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General Chat => Fan Fiction and Art => Topic started by: Lord_S_Gray on February 15, 2020, 12:51:24 PM



Title: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 15, 2020, 12:51:24 PM

(https://i.ibb.co/Kh1ckLM/ROTA-Screen.jpg) (https://ibb.co/r0WKScC)
<<<<<<>>>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/xfz5pdP/Kamino.png) (https://ibb.co/hZ28Pwh)

Black as the void from which it slipped with barely a shudder on the most sensitive instruments three vessels entered the system, a large spear head of abyss flanked by two smaller ones that blotted the blue grey stars of Mach’acuay constellation– the all encircling Galactic Serpent of Kaminoan Myth.

Unmolested by the sleek Kaminoan ships, unheard by the rounded sensor posts one of the smaller vessels descends through the black grey storm clouds over the watery world.

In the cockpit side by side are two featureless black helmets that eat the thin blue lights of the consoles and switches as a red shadow looms behind them.

Clearance codes are exchanged without a word as the ship hissed exhaust gases onto the platform of the cloning facility being lashed by horizontal rains and endless storm surges.

A small group of tall slender necked Kaminoans shielded from the weather by discreet semi-opaque rain shields walk toward the descending ramp, viewing only boots the red of human blood beneath a thick midnight cloak as the lone figure descends.

“Welcome to Kamino, this visit is a surprise we…”

Fingers encased in Bloodstone armour lift momentarily to stop the words, to stop the very cognition of the greeter.

Without words, intent flows into their minds.  Without question or resistance they comply, and with them the other 238 scientists and workers in the facility.

They fold back and head toward the door, the figure in the now soaked cloak remains unmoving as her two escorts fall in beside her.  

On her left a killer of Jedi, Sith, Gray, Vong and everything in between, ruthless, focused and with powers to eclipse Grand Masters, Sith Lords and Kage’s. On his back an oblivion sword that hummed with enchanted lighting and folded bow beside a quiver of teleporting Abyssal arrows.

On her right half a head taller and boarder, the menace of slavers the galaxy wide, an unstoppable beast of a man, strength to fight a Wookie bare handed, endurance to survive weeks in a jungle hunted by Jedi Sentinels, armed with an enormous two handed blade leeching aetheric flame traces from his woman’s enchantment, rifle beside it glowing with hell fire red power cells.

The three walked into the facility proper, clinical whites of the floor and walls defiled more by the light sucking shadow of their armour than by the dripping of rain off their cloaks.

Without needing to consult directions they felt their way to where the Kaminoans were assembling in a dream like haze- overpowered by what they would call the ‘Force’ used on a scale all but the most experienced Jedi would consider impossible.

Overlooking the gathering she raised one hand, tendrils of red energy swirling around her fingers and palm in delicate whorls as thunder cracked outside.

Her fist clenched and 238 Kaminoans fell to the floor unconscious.

“Leave nothing,” she ordered.

(https://i.ibb.co/grYqVrq/M-dark.jpg) (https://ibb.co/grYqVrq)

<<<<>>>>

Nothing was left by the time they were done.

Ten Demigods scoured the facility and took everything but lives.  

They took the original samples provided to produce the clones.

They took all the research and analysis performed on those samples to sequence the embryos.

They took the pods, the gestation tubes, the power cells, the wires and bolts that held then to the walls.

They took data on unrelated cloning and genetic experimentation projects from decades past.

They took the memories and experiences of the scientists producing the clones – torn like pages from a journal from their minds, flowing like mercury into eldritch hungry orbs in the hands of the Gods.

Nothing would be left, no memory, no fibres, no electromagnetic resonance, no trace DNA – nothing to indicate Aethans even existed, no thought the last 5 years had been spent producing clones here.  Experiences were rewritten as a failed research project into meta-humans in their minds, frustration was inculcated into their emotions to make them unwilling to discuss it. Powerful minds were twisted by other minds exponentially more so as they worked for hours on end, cleansing, concealing.

Of their ten only four began the day with the ability to perform the task of memory editing and deletion on such a scale, only three with the ability to comprehensively eliminate all possible trace of physical presence down to trace elements flaked off of their Ultra-dense armour – by the end of the day all ten were veterans of dozens of such operations – more was achieved with each action that just concealment, it was training, it was learning.

It was bonding.

Their two transports ferried all equipment they deemed valuable to their Destroyer, the silent Aertemisaea class vessel, first of its kind that had occupied their last two weeks after the battle of Ord Mirit preparing.  

The Destroyer named for its type the Aertemisaea was a fitting tribute to their Goddess of the Hunt, Wilds, Courage, and Passions, an amalgam of the best Mon Cal, Kuati, Corellian – and most of all Chiss – engineering had to offer combined with Aethan Ultradense materials and Aetheric warfare systems – three Aetheric Nexus chambers that magnified their ability to create illusions, control minds and telekinetically move objects tenfold, twelve Chiss Turbo-Charric-Cannons, eight Shikkar Torpedo tubes to hurl hideously sharpened and twisted blades of Greysleet – or Phirk in the name Outsiders gave it – to bore into enemy vessels before detonating its Proton-Bomb core, a dozen Magnetic Accelerator anti-fighter turrets and gravity crunching tractor beams.

It was an operation performed with a guerrilla’s pragmatism and an assassin’s precision, co-ordinated by the ever present meld of the People in the aether, finished in 29 standard hours.

Milaea watched the sleek procession of the last goods being loaded up, her former Jedi Master, and now – sister for want of a better word for their bond – Sofa giving her a slight squeeze on the arm lost to her Bloodstone armour plating, gesturing for her to follow up the ramp as they left, Selaena already descending from her lookout atop the largest of the facilities domes, overpowered sniper rifle recently modified to fire Blackstone Ultradense ‘Spear Needles’ with miniature explosives that reacted to mass on impact, still in her grip as she leapt between aerials that swayed in the endless storm.

The one concession Milaea could impose on the xenophobic theistic psychopaths that comprised her People, was that they would leave the Kaminoans alive, even if they took everything else from them…

<<<<>>>>

Prologue — Remnant

“I tell you son, the number of people who look at the galaxy and think, ‘hey that would be a nifty shortcut, straight from Corellia to Coruscant through the core’…must be a million of ‘em a year,”  He hunched over his grandson who was slowly calculating the next jump.

“A fortune, I’ll make a fortune charting a lane right through the centre! Hah a million a year try, yes sir…and not one comes back out. No sir, they got no clue…”

“And then,” he went on, “There are the other ones, who see the prices we get for a bit of ore…they think ‘I’ll make killing mining in the deep core! Easy as 1000 credits a gram how can I lose…’ Ah son they’re even dumber…not a clue…not a clue,”

He gave the chair a friendly slap, “Ah it’s not easy no Sir, no sir…takes generations to learn the paths, my grandad taught me, and now I’ll teach you…you’re pa thought he was too good for this…but ah…well…you’ll soon see ain’t no more adventure to be had, ain’t no better place to become a great pilot that the core. They say Corellians are the best, ha, not a clue those fly boys not a clue.”

He watched carefully the route his grandson was entering and beamed. He was a quick learner that boy, a drop of the Gods in him his mother had said before she passed, leaving the poor boy with his good for nothing son who left him at the outpost with 50 credits and a bag of third hand clothes.

He shook his head, how had his own son turned out to be such a bastard…didn’t matter now.

“Now what you’re looking for first up is anything that looks like clean lines, them fancy scanners the rim boys use don’t work out here with the rad’s, too much interference”  
According to his grandfather anyone who lived further from the core than Byss was a ‘Rim boy’

“Aint no substitute for your own eyes out here,” he went on…and on…as they curved down to the moons surface.

 He strained to see anything but still grey sands and impact craters, a few cliffs and valleys carved from asteroids that had hit on an incline.

‘There just like that!” his grandfather shouted excitedly, for having spent 70 years plumbing the deep core he seemed to have lost no enthusiasm…he wondered if that’s how he’d end up...little choice now his father had abandoned him a day short of his thirteenth birthday in favour of easy booze on a cargo hauler bound for Ryloth…he was thankful his Grandfather had taken him in, he’d only met him twice before that, once as an infant.

He followed the old slightly shaking finer to three slightly darker patches, roughly square, where the light grey top dust had been moved aeons ago, and the slow crawl of gravity hadn’t completely re-covered it yet.  The patches were just in front of a cliff face.

“Mark my words so, there’ll be a mine there…yes sir that’s the best way, a million people have set up mines and such here then left, or forgotten about them, cut off by a rad flux or nova…easiest pickings is to have a gander, usually something left behind,”

He had been right, across the rough square landing pads was a small tunnel with an old looking steel door.…oddly the door didn't seem to have any console to try and hack or obvious handle…

“Right get the cracker…” his grandson handed him the electro-crow, the old chipped and rusted device clanked and juttered, as it pried the door open – an old and cantankerous piece of kit, just like him Ha!

Inside was…different to the prefab rooms he usually saw…but then every ruin out here was a bit unique, all different species, all different periods, a living museum of failed dreams the deep core was.

“doesn’t look like a mine…” his grandson said crouching to get a look beneath one of the stations, there were twelve in all about 4 by 2 metres, about bed height with various instruments around the place in the cool blue pre-fab cabinets.

“No…probably a research station, see em all over, some university sets up to research grav fluctuations, singularities or some such in the core, they soon get abandoned, too hard to supply…yes sir, the core is a desert as much as the damn edge of the Tingle arm…just as difficult to get to, or come back from…if you don’t know what you’re doing. Let’s head further in see what we can scrounge hey,”

He checked his suits air supply, still 80%, plenty, and headed toward the door at the end, but the boy stopped,

“We shouldn’t be here…” he said suddenly in a hollow voice

“What?”

“We need to leave there are…ghosts here…”

He laughed, “Ah come-on boy, ain’t nothing here but us,” he kicked a discarded metal…actually he wasn’t sure what it was for, to prove his point and headed on.”

And behind the door…his eyes exploded in amazement…a semicircular chamber with six large metal cylinders along the wall, connected to all manner of long since dead monitors…and in the middle of the room…

The biggest slab of Black-Heart he’d ever seen.  About six by three metres, and a metre and a half high it looked like a giants bed…jagged edges, but pure black-heart his eyes could tell…and he could feel the pull of the ultra-dense minerals gravity even from here.

“Son…we’ve made it I tell you,” he clapped his hands together…the current price was 4000 credits for twenty grams of this stuff, sold for industrial blades to manufacturing companies the galaxy over…even the dust was 2000 credits a hundred grams, more resilient than diamond it was used all over to cut and smooth things…this…this would be worth billions! Something this size would weigh tonnes with its high density! They were set for life, he could get a new ship, a new suit…maybe even some fresh nerf steaks!

 “Pa…I don’t think we should be here…I have a bad feeling about this,”

He shook his head as he stepped toward the stone, the tug of its gravity got stronger,

“Ah don’t worry son, this is…a blessing I tell ya, a true blessing…after your pa left and your ma passed, things had to go right to balance out the bad,”  he placed his hand on the stone feeling the black draw to it,

“You’re my good luck charm…hey what’s wrong,”

Behind the face plate his Grandsons eyes were wide, a dust began to form around the room,

“Hey what’s going,” he turned quickly in the low gravity, one of the cylinders was opening…and inside…he felt his throat tighten…his chest constrict…he thought it was his own fear…until he felt his feet slide along the ancient prefab flooring toward the cylinders blue glowing lights.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on February 17, 2020, 10:53:23 PM
And.... Away we go!

Great beginning.  Nice to see Milaea still trying to moderate her people, and marginally succeeding, which may be the only reason we end up with the Clones in Palpatine's time.

Hmm.  Maybe more than a coincidence that...  ;-)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2020, 01:14:10 AM
Authors Note

Remnant of the Aether is a series interconnected short to medium length stories.  It chronicles the story of the Aethans beginning immediately after the events of Fate of the Aether (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=39140.0 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=39140.0)), through the events in Schisms the Vhal’Dan civil war, (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.0 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.0)) to approximately 15 years after Fate of the Aether (approx. 550BBY).
 
Chapters are labelled in the following Format

Chapter X — Short Story Main Title — Short Story sub-section or Part number

Short stories often follow on from each other but events themselves may be separated by several weeks or months. Generally there will be a mention of the approximate time between events in the narrative.  Some stories will contain significant flashbacks or occur in different time periods parallel to previous series (CotA, LotA and FotA) this will be noted broadly in the narrative.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2020, 01:17:00 AM
Dramatis Personae — Part 1

[Syndic Nuruodo: Please find attached data packages and analysis reports following the conclusion of the 18 Month Aethan Induction and Academy Graduation Programme. 

All Aethan auxiliaries have successfully completed the programme and been assigned appropriate rank within the Orbital Drop Shock Commando Corps of the Chiss Expeditionary Defence Force.

Combat analysis has been completed by Colonel Nduur’casp’Idona– CEDF Orbital Drop Shock Commando (ODSC) Unit.
Anthropological Analysis focusing on each members role within the ‘Tribe’ has been completed by Doctor Asstraa’Sinidi’Ycaas Emeritus Professor of Csaplar University currently volunteering with CEDF Intelligence Analysis
Psychological analysis has been completed by Doctor Ythung’vince’elsi of CEDF Medical Corps. Doctor Ythung’vince’elsi notes that standard humanoid sentient psychological descriptors are only an approximation, whilst terms such as ‘depression’ or ‘guilt’ are broadly analogous Aethans psychology remains significantly distinct and intrinsically linked to tribal structure and they should not be taken as having the exact same meaning.

We have adapted the Standardised Individual Capacity Level used when ranking CEDF Officers to a ‘Standardised Individual Threat Level’ (SITL) indicating each of the Aethans relative prowess based on observations, anecdotes and evidence collected from their postings and assignments.

For Reference a CEDF ODSC is rated 50 on this scale. Jedi Grand Master Yoda is rated a score of 200.

> Admiral Ithhawa’Tran’Nuuso
<<<<>>>>

 
Valens

(https://thumb.ibb.co/nwCywJ/V-36.jpg) (https://ibb.co/nwCywJ)
ODSC Rank: Captain
Height: 179 cm
Weight: 320KG
Gender: Male
Combat Analysis: Guardian and Jedi Trained  Expert strategist, trained in Jedi, Sith, Echanni and Mandalorian Combat and tactics. Force abilities above standard include teleportation of self and objects (limitations uncertain), gravity manipulation, prescience (accuracy of predictive ability for events up to 10 standard minutes ahead 85%, up to one hour 75% then declining)  and temporal manipulation (extent of ability to alter ‘time’ uncertain), able to create and sustain Force Null Field for approximately four standard minutes.
Anthropological Analysis: Acts as ‘Warchief’ - leader in times of crisis on basis of his strategic and tactical ability exceeding that of females present.
Psychological Analysis: Martyr complex, self-deprecating and prone to depressive episodes when absent a defined enemy to combat. Hypocritical in relation to ‘outsiders’ – currently engage in sexual relationship with former ‘outsider’. Task focused personality type.
SITL: 200


<<<<>>>>

Steaming sulphur bubbled up from the equatorial breach in the mantle that ringed Arioch.

Almost as far from the Republic – and the Jedi - as one could get, the hissing clouds of metal and mineral gusted above frothing magma spewing orange and yellow over plains of flash cooled igneous rock at the equator where tectonic plates fought a struggle of aeons slowly grinding each other down to the mantle.

The jet black clouds obscured the flights of Clawcrafts and the Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles they knew were coming.

After 18 months this was the final exercise after which they would be formally inducted into the CEDF.

Over a year away from home was…difficult…but not without precedent…after his People were almost wiped out he had spent years away from home learning the Jedi arts from Yoda…He felt a pang of…not sadness for such could not truly be experienced for an Outsider…but a sensation of dissonance of how things had ended with his erstwhile teacher.

He focused on the present and the future, reflection on past losses was a rapid path to depression for Valens.  Being here served long and short term goals – first it kept them far from the Jedi ensuring there was little to no chance of any of them recalling the truth of what occurred on Ord Mirit.  Secondly if the alliance with the Chiss was to last the People needed to prove themselves on Chiss Terms

This meant obtaining rank in the CEDF through a modified Academy training regime suited to Aethan enhanced biology…and not utilising in their official placements the unfair advantage of the aether.

He kept close to the rest of the squad, heavy anti-air flak cannon by his side – while they could choose not to use the aether, he couldn’t switch off his superior reflexes and strength – four times the conditioned Commandos around him – so his sergeant had him on the big gun.

Valens needed to make this work, justify his decision to ally with the Chiss, because he knew it had and would cost the People.  It needed to be worth it, they needed to master all the Chiss had to teach about technology, economics, military strategy and stable galactic expansion – emulate, adapt and perfect it.

He owed it to all those lost in the Devastation, the crippling attack that killed a third and carried the rest of his 2000 or so fellow Aethans away 23 years ago to ensure they rose like from the ashes stronger than ever to seek the Vengeance that his instincts demanded.

He heard the screech of atmospheric entry, felt the slight ripples in gravity in his advanced vestibular system,

“On approach,” he noted speaking slower than usual so the Chiss could understand

“Confirmed,” the comms officer agreed, "Heading at 225 degrees"

The Sergeant paused to look over the readings then consult the tactical map before quickly keying in co-ordinates that appeared on Valens way finder.

“Deploy as instructed and wait for my signal”

<<<<>>>>

 
Jarys

(https://thumb.ibb.co/hKBcOy/J-31.png) (https://ibb.co/hKBcOy)

ODSC Rank: Captain
Height: 182cm
Weight: 335KG
Gender: Male
Combat Analysis: Guardian Trained 15 years’ experience with Sons of Kessel as leader of assault squad – expert in guerrilla warfare and close confine (Urban, ship boarding etc.) tactics. Physical strength, Endurance and pain threshold highest of group.
Anthropological Analysis: Tribal ‘Brave’ role used as ‘first attacker’ challenging any threat, instinctively acts in ‘bodyguard’ role to any nearby female.  Serves as ‘second’ to Valens as Warchief due to experience
Psychological Analysis: Stoic and focused mindset, experiences with SoK has resulted in higher respect for ‘outsiders’ and willingness to work with them. Good natured up to point of threat to Tribe.
SITL: 190


<<<<>>>>

The squad fanned out as ordered, they would find cover in shimmering clefts of flash cooled igneous rock that curved like waves of obsidian about them, the glass crunching most heavily under his brothers boots. 

Though today Valens was not his brother, just his heavy weapons specialist.  They had been apart for nearly twenty years, twenty years Jarys had spent fighting with the Sons of Kessel after escaping the fighting pits of Nar Shadda, learning how to fight an enemy with vastly superior numbers and resources and most importantly get out alive.

Combined with his training as an Aethan guardian he had rapidly advanced to lead Vorynx squad made up of two other Aethans the Sons helped him find, the engine that pushed the Sons to become a force that threatened both the Hutts and Black Sun…

Too much of a threat.  Jarys was reunited with his Brother and a daughter he never knew of at the same time the Jedi were hunting him for a messy arms deal on Cygrat where he had been forced, by his daughter Milaea still a Jedi, to fight as a Guardian.  Labelled the Sith of Cygrat by the Jedi, he left the Sons to keep them from becoming embroiled in the conflict.  Their leader Keison devised a plan to create a new home for the Sons by capturing a space station from the Black Sun…

It was a step too far, a combined Hutt and Black Sun ambush destroyed all but a thousand or so of the once tens of thousands of Sons of Kessel. 

Jarys was not the kind to regret a decision once made or ask ‘what if’ like his brother did. Instead, one day he would return to the Sons stronger, smarter with a hundred or more Aethans and help them rebuild to repay their generosity in taking him in so long ago.

Today he furthered that goal by completing his training with the Chiss.

The clawcraft came in hard and fast yellow bolts slamming down where they detected life signs - the nearby rivers of magma were hot enough to mask their signals only partially.

He waited.

A bulb of obsidian burst apart, his men beneath it rushing for cover, two were struck by the low level training cannons knocking them unconscious.

He waited

Titanium alloy ODSC’s pods cracked into the surface – the first of dozens Blue team would deploy against his Red team

He waited.

Fire erupted as another Red squad engaged further up the line, the noise of Clawcraft overcame the gurgle of the magma.

“FIRE!”

Valens and the other anti-aircraft troops spun out and unleashed, de-powered ion bolts criss-crossing the sky.  This was the way, wait until the last moment before full detection then strike with absolute fury – this was how the Vorynx hunted, how the Sons fought, and how he waged war.

Three clawcraft now too low to manoeuvre fully were struck out in an instant, their pilots ejecting from the soon to be decommissioned craft which shattered on impact into the igneous formations.  He leaned out with his RPG and fired – Magnetic clamp missile heads hit an ODSC pod indicating destruction, the ODSC inside would have to sit out the battle as a casualty.

“Reposition as follows!” he ordered tapping new locations as the battlefield changed.

Keep mobile, keep low, keep fast.

He rushed a crouch toward the pod he had taken down, his orders from Red Team leader clear as his squad covered him.

With his natural strength he tore off the pods hatch to reveal the ODSC annoyed at being shot down right at the start of the war game who eyes him curiously.

Jarys smiled beneath his helmet

“You’re dead – I’m taking your armour,”

<<<<>>>>

 
Kiraea

(https://thumb.ibb.co/dgAbjU/K-31.jpg) (https://ibb.co/dgAbjU)

ODSC Rank: Lieutenant
Height: 175cm
Weight: 285KG
Gender: Female
Combat Analysis: Guardian Trained, Jedi training via Valens. Stealth and reconnaissance expert, enhanced acrobatic ability, Force Fire and Mind Control expert.
Anthropological Analysis: Priestess role, serves in mentoring capacity to younger females, keeper and teacher of sacred stories and rituals.
Psychological Analysis: Extreme hatred of ‘outsider’s, pathologically violent, Extreme protectiveness of younger females, low impulse control, openly exhibits highly sexualised behaviours. 
SITL: 185


<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/fHGHrTF/Chisscomando.jpg) (https://ibb.co/fHGHrTF)

Snowflakes of ammonia exploded over her armour, the caustic nature of so much of the substance had already eaten off the blue stripes. 

Nonetheless she pressed to the trench wall closely and fired off a series of shots with the charric rifle, sniping one head that had peeked out of a foxhole.

A rain of blue crisscrossed the snowy plane as both sides traded fire, on her HUD indicators showed her team slowly creeping around the western side of the lake, a ping indicated she was to move next, the transparent yellow way finder appearing at the top of the visor to direct her. 

As if she needed it.

The goal of Blue team was to disable or destroy the ‘planetary shield’ buried in a facility they had detected in the northern glacial plains, then extract before orbital bombardment.

The Colonels plan had been to feint at the equator and send infiltration teams to the glacial plains of Arioch - frozen ammonia shields covering the north and south poles interspersed with the odd worn down mountain ranges that shivered amidst the cold.

It hadn’t worked…the clunky slow stupid Chiss had been detected

She should be in command, not that blue skinned toff...or better still she should’ve been sent in alone.

Kiraea had been sneaking into and out of places since she was a teenager, her contortionist flexibility, natural affinity for stealth and svelte form making her an instant expert…along with the need to provide for herself and her sisters.

Taken from her home and sold to a pervert she mercifully only tortured and burnt to death for a half an hour, she took what she needed to survive, so far as she was concerned taking from outsiders was no different to picking berries off a tree – it was her Goddess given right to take from nature’s bounty – and so she did, credits, weapons, schematics, uranium, memories….

Crouched she moved lithely through the trench, a quick flip and roll over the terminating end into the next one, arriving early at the assembly point.

Their slow movements irritated her. Their slow speech even more so…and their slow thinking.

She could scream…had been tempted to time and again over the last months…especially when doing six months on a Chiss Cruiser…Valens paired with her to ensure there were no incidents…as if she couldn’t control her burning need to kills outsiders for killing her People, offending against her Goddesses…

Well she couldn’t – not really – but she was patient and smart enough to understand the long game they had to play – for now he would bite her tongue…then either unleash her rage on some outsider, or turn it to something more…productive…with her mate Jarys.

Back in formation she took a rear guard position without word, the vanguard moving toward a tunnel entrance. 

If it were her leading the enemy she would collapse it as soon as they were in.

But the orders were clear and not to be questioned – such was the Chiss way.

They filed in the now blown out tunnel entrance one by one, through hard bitten ice and down into the bedrock itself.

Up ahead she heard and felt fire, one of her squads indicators flickered yellow then red, the HUD displayed enemy contacts nearly 30 seconds after she sensed them.  She could easily wipe them out herself with a thought. 

But such was not the Chiss way.

She remained in position covering a three way intersection, pressed against the rock as the vanguard fought, lost, and then was relieved by the rest of the squad who took out the remaining enemy.

Like a constant itch she couldn’t scratch it galled her more and more to be subject to the orders of inferior beings.

When they moved in deeper and three enemy units tried to take them from the rear she took some of her frustration out on them.

Switching to automatic fire she pounded bolts of energy into the enemy troops as she lay prone on the ground, each one blasting at their groin and abdomen, cutting in under the gaps in the armour plating to strike home on the body suit.

The carbon haze clearing leaving only the ammonia mists she absently ‘accidently’ stepped on them as she passed, her greater weight crushing down on them.

“Infiltration squad, separate out and find that generator,”

Finally a good decision she thought unclasping the armour plates over the infiltration suit to reduce her profile and move more easily through vents.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2020, 01:20:24 AM
Dramatis Personae — Part 2

Sofa

(https://thumb.ibb.co/bP8WgL/S-44.jpg) (https://ibb.co/bP8WgL)

ODSC Rank: Master Sargent
Height: 174 cm
Weight: 290KG
Gender: Female
Combat Analysis: Jedi training, expert in Niman combat style and psychological warfare
Anthropological Analysis: Role uncertain, ‘adopted’ member of Tribe, appears to be accepted mostly on basis of being Milaea’s sister and Valens ‘wife’.
Psychological Analysis: extent to which psychopathic traits are result of or existed prior to Tribe adoption and genetic editing uncertain. Analysis indicates presence of childhood trauma’s not fully resolved may have influenced decision to join Tribe as protective measure.
SITL: 170


<<<<>>>>

“…And I…ahhhh I will always Love Yooooooooo…Yeah will always love Yoooooo!”

Sofa sang to herself in the confines of the Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle (SOEIV) a tear-drop shaped pod made of Titanium alloys coated with ceramic skin that would send its occupant like a meteor onto a planet, hoping that the deceleration thrusters prevented them from splattering on the ground.

It was the key piece of equipment used by the Chiss ODSC Corp to get them safely – mostly – into areas that a regular transport couldn’t reach undetected. There was Sofa thought something innately suicidal about the whole thing

“Will Always looove yoooo…” she went on undeterred waiting for orders and co-ordinates to deploy to.  It was terribly boring, and uncomfortable, and mind numbing…she was tempted every minute to reach out with the Aether to sense what was happening…it had been fun these past months to show off to the Chiss using the aether.

Still as much as the Aethans surprised the Chiss with their abilities, the Chiss surprised the Aethans.  They were diligent and precise beyond measure, and had damn high standards for their officers and Commando’s that were tough for even her with a super human body and mind to attain.

“Bittersweet, memories, that is all, I’m taking, with meeeeeeeeeee,”

EEEP EEEP

“Oh Frell I was just getting into it!”

Having spent so many years confined…relatively…as a Jedi…she was just enjoying her new found freedom and indulging the excesses of pleasure her new ageless Aethan body was capable of…when Valens up and decided they all needed to spend a year and half with the damn Chiss.

If she thought the Jedi walked around with a lightsabre stuck right up their exhaust ports…they had nothing on the Chiss.  She had been a bad Jedi, good at caring for people, negotiating truces, chasing down thugs and drug dealers it’s true…but was most decidedly not cut out for a life of celibacy and restraint. Profligate, selfish, sensual, and unashamed of it.  To have to restrain those impulses again while serving on Chiss ships and studying in their damn academy libraries was…not impossible…just annoying.

The internal display showed the arc of entry to the target zone just as the release clamp clanked open sending her rocketing to the planet.

An orbital drop was not straight, you had some control to avoid anti-aircraft weaponry as best you could.

This Sofa had to do now, jinking as she fell to avoid defensive fire, the fighters of each side clashing in the lower atmosphere.

The whole pod rocked back and forth as it plunged at terminal velocity into the ammonia iced clouds then breaching through to the blinding white vista below. 
Finally she began to pick up comms again.

“Blue 14 stand down!”

“It’s not Blue 14! Take him down!” 

She hit the deceleration point and felt her stomachs rise up to her throat as they kicked her back, the deployment timer rapidly ticking down as the scene below came into view. 

Selaena’s squad was pinned between the evac pad held by Red’s and a soldier in blue firing on them from an upper crag of rock.

The timer was five seconds out but she couldn’t wait.  She slammed the release and proton jets sent her flying horizontally from the pod. 

Mini jets on her armour slowed her arcing descent curve as she lined up the traitor blue and fired. 

With preternatural speed he dodged – obviously Jarys of Valens given how quickly.

Immediately Selaena clicked across rapid orders to take him out while she, free of the ambush, turned her attention to taking the evac zone.

Still spiralling down Sofa jetted to avoid return fire as the target dove to find cover, she adjusted her descent to keep above him, her missed shots flash burning the ammonia ice into hideous caustic vapours.

She was getting close to landing now…the brief window as she touched down to steady herself was when she was most vulnerable – her target knew this and would exploit it, and with every metre closer her higher ground advantage dissipated.

Crawling into a cleft in the rock she lost much to target.  A scornful twist of her mouth she was determined to get at least one kill after having waited in that damn pod.

Overriding the suits warnings she cut all power to the reverse thrusters and hammered them forward with an overcharge burst.  Relying on her Aethan body to take the impact of a less controlled descent she sped forward and down right at the target finger hammering the trigger of the rifle.  He peeked out to snap some shots just as she expected.

Now she did the reverse, cutting all forward thrust and putting it all into downward, slamming at speed that would break a humans legs and back into the ground raising a storm of ammonia snow which covered her exact landing position, knees bent taking on the downward force into her muscles that primed like springs to bounce her to the side. 

Out of the mist she had kicked up she saw her target was perfectly positioned to shoot her where she had been.

Instead she pumped three shots straight into the head.

Jarys HUD fizzled out, and belatedly he realised he should lie down and play dead, three head shots would have dropped a Chiss instantly into an unconscious haze – it did little more than tingle his cheeks.

By the time he lay down to play dead Sofa and Selaena were already in control of the evac landing pad –their job was done.

<<<<>>>>

Lyaea

(https://thumb.ibb.co/jbuq7d/Lya4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/jbuq7d)

ODSC Rank: Master Sargent
Height: 175 cm
Weight: 280KG
Gender: Female
Combat Analysis: Guardian Trained, Jedi training via Valens. Secondary tactical leader, expert in biochemical weapons including utilisation of the Force in stimulating noxious homeostatic processes (See Force Malacia attacks), piloting, and close combat,
Anthropological Analysis: ‘Baby’ role, permitted to behave in juvenile manner outside of crisis situations and play tricks on other Tribe members without censure 
Psychological Analysis: upbringing split between indigenous world and Republic has resulted in hyperactive adoption of ‘outsider’ culture in the form of music, social media and movies utilised as a method to disparage said outsiders. Ebullient, and self-absorbed.
SITL: 155


<<<<>>>>

It's so easy, but I can't do it

Creeping through the tunnel the ping grew louder as they closed toward the intersecting web of magnetic field lines on the scanner that pinpointed the Shield Generator.

All she had to do was reach out with her aetheric senses and she’d know exactly where…but no…it wasn’t allowed…she poked her tongue out beneath her helmet at her track continued to play.

So risky, but I gotta chance it

Peeked round a corner she rolled a flashbang.  It detonated in a white haze and elicited no response. 

Round low and tight rifle in each hand she waited the few seconds as the slow Chiss in ambush finally reacted – as their barrels appeared from the corners she fired straight into each blasting their guns apart before rolling down the hall in an instant and pumping both full of stun bolts.
It's so funny, there's nothing to laugh about

It was getting too easy now, the Infiltrators were mincing the Red’s fixed positions, disabling traps and bleeding their guards as she played vanguard to Blue teams main force.

“Close?” the colonel asked

My money, that's all you want to talk about

It was of course against regulations to have music playing in her helmet speakers during engagement…she’d been caught before during her various secondments learning the ropes on Chiss ships and bases…not just for that…for smuggling in an i-holo, contraband video games, vibrators, running gambling rackets…and a few other things they never found out about.

Up ahead was a sealed door, the scanner showed the confluence of the magnetic distortions behind it – the generator room.

“Straight ahead,”

I can see what you want me to be

The Chiss didn’t seem to understand. She was the youngest, she was meant to be naughty, it was her Goddess given role, even if it wasn’t her preference which it most certainly was.

She was only 7 when the Outsiders took her from home, from her mother, father and brother…fortunately Kiraea rescued her, but she had little adult influence apart from the mind slaved Colm Maynard, a former professional thief and con-artist – she’d grown between two cultures…and saw the absurdity in both.

With quick battle cant signs the Colonel ordered the door breached and took up position at a 45 degree angle from the door while the rest of the team covered the hall on either side.

Lyaea played along more out of boredom than desire, rolling to the door with unnecessary acrobatics and swiftly inserting her slicer with one hand, a grenade in the other ready to roll it in as soon as the door opened. She played breaking the lock like a game red red red blue blue blue…Green!

But I'm no fool

She rolled as side as the door slid open, the control box sparking rifle in her hand again.

But instead of the glow of a planetary shield generator cavern lined with curved conduits illuminated blue all she saw was a black dingy store room with ammonia rusted walls.

That is different…

The Colonel glanced to her and tapped his helmet light, she nodded and switched it on.

Illuminated by the white beam, she followed harsh drag lines in the floor to the far end of the store room where a rumbling container capacitor had been hauled, the floor beside it covered in rubble where the wall had been drilled, cables plugged into it coming from another room.

Lyaea smiled at being surprised at the chaos and the confusion turned against her…the Red team had rerouted the shield generators power outflow into this capacitor, drilled through the facility walls to do so, meaning following the magnetic field signal had lead him straight into….

It's in the lap of the Gods

Adaea

(https://thumb.ibb.co/i3WEYJ/Ada-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/i3WEYJ)

ODSC Rank: Master Sargent
Height: 173cm
Weight: 270kg
Gender: Female
Combat Analysis: Guardian Trained, Jedi training via Valens. Expert in telepathic co-ordination (Battle Meditation), piloting, telekinetic co-ordination and teleportation, master in archery, largely provides support role do to (comparative) physical weakness. Expert in cyber warfare and military/civilian engineering (structural and electrical) and design.
Anthropological Analysis: Serves as mediator and comforter to other Tribe members in distress.
Psychological Analysis: introvert qualities, strong compassion for indigenous animals, appears naïve showing no comprehension of moral differences between designing weapons and designing articles of clothing. 

SITL: 150


<<<<>>>>

<Sorry!> Adaea apologised as she burst out from hiding to rake half of blue squad, including Lyaea with stun repeater fire, knocking out five of their infiltrators in as many seconds.

In the corridor more false panels were thrust aside and the glow of stun fire and flashbangs bounced in through the door way as the ambush unfolded.

Adaea was not a naturally aggressive woman, and especially didn’t like hurting other People, evening training.

True she’d fought would be Sith, Mandalorians and Black Sun, but she much preferred sewing, and playing with animals, or designing weapons and ships not wielding them.

A tingle in her spine caused her to pivot round into a low kneel and ram her elbow into a Chiss stomach – her natural strength sending the poor creature flying into a wall.

“Sorry, but you really shouldn’t sneak up on people….”

She had enjoyed re-routing the Generators magnetic field into the capacitor to set a trap, that was much more her style, but the actual springing of it felt mean because there were People on the receiving end…

Well if that’s what I have to do I suppose,  she strolled up to the bodies and rolled over the Colonel himself currently coughing as the static from the stun blasts seeped out into the ground.

She pulled off his gauntlet and quickly plugged it into the Red Teams battle net

“Uploading…” her fingers worked quickly, any second now the fail safes would kick in and all the data on the device would be lost…she needed to get all she could.

The battle was even for now, they had beaten many of the infiltrators taken out a lot of the Blues at the evac point by switching armour, and made the Blue’s feint at the equator more costly than they had wished…

But she knew Blue team had more infiltrators in the facility, and had aerial superiority after the Red’s attack on their speeders found itself hit by “orbital bombardment”.

The gauntlet finally died but she’d transmitted the current positions of roughly half the Blue forces to Red Leader.

A job well done! she smiled, she had carefully studied the rules for this latest engagement, and for Red team to get a Major Victory they needed to not only prevent any loss to the Planetary shield generators for Fourteen hours, but also eliminate half of the attacking for and their commander.  She had just done boh of those things.

Skipping along she headed back toward the command room with the rest of the squad, the other, taking ever more notes on the range of motion offered by the training armour and how it could be improved, perfected

Unfortunately the Chiss didn’t seem to like her trying to improve things, they had taken a lot of offence when, assigned to the Frigate Yalar’Undo with Jarys for three months she had taken it upon herself to make the engines and shields more efficient and shut down all power to the ship to do so. 

It was for her own safety - it was dangerous to retune the repulsor drives if they were powered, but somehow the captain didn’t appreciate her ingenuity and started to yell at her until Jarys stepped between them…then the Captain didn’t feel like yelling anymore and looked very scared and said quietly to ask before cutting all systems again.

And so as her third level of consciousness scanned through the recently acquired data she asked the squad sergeant now

“Ummm Excuse me, Sargent, don’t be angry but we’ll be ambushed when we turn the corner based on the relative position and speed of blue teams location pings I just downloaded, also the thigh plates on this armour are very uncomfortably positioned”

The Sargent threw up a fist to stop the squad

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure, it leaves red marks right along my inner thighs,”

“Morco neo bun'lin's ch'at vizehn bircun'i bah to en'kin in'a[/i]” one of the other Chiss whispered  - Adaea could hear from the vibrations of his helmet.

Just our luck to get stuck with the childish one

That was very rude, she wasn’t childish, just wanted to be helpful and follow the rules.

The Sargent ignored the jibe and directed his troops to reposition just in time for the fighting to start.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2020, 01:21:44 AM
Dramatis Personae — Part 3

Selaena

(https://thumb.ibb.co/b6B8jK/Sel-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/b6B8jK)

ODSC Rank: Master Sargent
Height: 175cm
Weight: 275KG
Gender: Female
Combat Analysis: Partial Guardian training by Jarys. Experience with Sons of Kessel - Expert in long range combat (sniper rifle), structural and electrical sabotage   
Anthropological Analysis: Mother role
Psychological Analysis: Extreme violent and psychopathic tendencies, zero empathy for outsiders.  Extreme protectiveness of biological daughter Lyaea
SITL: 155


<<<<>>>>

“Leader is lost,” her second confirmed “The generator is still online”

Now Selaena was in command of Blue team, and they were in a perilous situation, they could no longer trust anyone in Blue armour to identify friend and foe, their positions were now known to Red teams hackers, and the readings on their scanners to locate the generator were clearly amiss.

She checked the timer, there was less than an hour left before the Red team was re-enforced’ ending the scenario.  Red had blunted their main assault and could now play for time. 

With only 42 soldiers remaining…probably less given she could no longer rely on everyone with a Blue identifier actually being on her side she needed to get creative.

“Call in the evac transports,” she ordered tersely
“On this heading….”

“Ma’am?” Blue 9 queried “That would mean…”

“You will obey my Orders,” Selaena retorted, the Chiss second immediately saluting, their deference to proper hierarchy left no room for questions, had she been Chiss the officer would never have even hinted at a questioning of her orders…still her helmet masked a grim smile.

Anything that would cause the outsiders annoyance or ‘death’ even in a war game gave her at least a shadow of satisfaction.

She despised the Chiss, hated that they had done a deal with them…hated they needed to do a deal with them to rebuild their planet, to defend it with machines and guns…hated that She needed to learn from them to defend her own children.

Before all else Selaena was a mother…a mother who had once been violently parted from her children and could never forget, never forgive – herself or the perpetrators – for that happening.

Her daughter Lyaea was back with her, but damaged by her isolation, by not having adult women to guide her as she developed into a woman – Kiraea had done her best, along with Adaea, but they had been children themselves - her son Lydan…lay in a coma awaiting having cybernetic and combat-stimulant implants forced upon his flesh to turn him into a weapon removed.

The Outsiders had stolen so much from them…she could not take it back…only rend just as much and more from them and offer them nothing in return – not time, not attention, not even words when she could avoid it.

She motioned for her forces to follow as she confirmed the approach vectors for the evac craft.

Moments later the rumble of engines filled the air over the constant crack of stun blasts as he hunkered down issuing further instructions to her forces inside the tunnels, then finally it was time.

First she ‘crashed’ a transport into the evac pad – obviously as a training scenario the crash was not real, instead floor lights indicated what sections of the facility were now off limits, and all Red members in those areas at the time of the crash were assumed to be causalities.

The second transport she ‘rammed’ into what they had indemnified as the Western hangar doors wiping out a Red squad preparing to swing round and harass her forces on speeder bikes, again entire sections turned red with the faux damage and a further 8 Red’s were dealt with.

She locked in her final orders, she would win this scenario, prove to herself she was better than the Chiss and had mastered their tactics, prove to herself she could be patient and do what was necessary to protect her children and…Goddess willing…grandchildren…by dealing with Outsiders where it was not practical to eliminate them – yet.

“Move,”

Her forces advanced rapidly, Red team penalised with a 3 minute response delay to reflect the time to recover after such significant structural damage.

Her squad raced around to the hangar a sniper taking three of her soldiers the cost for speed over stealth, but as soon as they were in they detached the Transports rear cannons to blast walls apart rather than wind through the labyrinthine tunnels.

She finally began to encounter the Red’s defence in depth as she got closer to the areas with the highest power readings, keeping in contact with the Blue infiltrators still in the facility. 

The sooner this game was over the sooner she would be home, and the sooner her son would be healed…and so regardless of having to beat People on the Red team, she would win this war-game.

<<<<>>>>

 
Melron

(https://thumb.ibb.co/drC3Je/Mel-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/drC3Je)

ODSC Rank: Master Sargent
Height: 180 cm
Weight: 315KG
Gender: Male
Combat Analysis: Guardian Trained. Expert in Morgukai combat techniques – believed to have been attained via mental ‘copying’ of a Morgukai rather than actual training.  Prefers traditional weapons (Bow, Sword) but rapidly adapting to using ‘outsider weapons’ on condition that they be adapted and made by fellow Aethan.
Anthropological Analysis: Oldest member, Guardian trained but served in ‘chronicler/archaeologist/Loremaster role’, metriocractic matriarchy results in his position being low in the tribe.
Psychological Analysis: Isolation following Devastation lead to inertia, subsequent threats to female and near death at hands of ‘outsiders’ experiences has lead to a resurgence of motivation – likely Aethan equivalent of survivors guilt now focused on justifying his survival though violence against outsiders.
SITL: 175


<<<<>>>>

Every intersection was filled with fire, every moment another soldier fell.

Selaena was going for the generators regardless of the cost.

Melron kept low, fast and smooth sweeping through checking every room as he went as part of the vanguard coming in from the opposite side of Selaena’s main advance.

There were the regular traps, trip wires, turrets, ambushes that with time they could’ve dealt with better, but with only an hour to go…

He pushed through section after section, pinned his rifle low and charge he simply hurled it at a Red soldier drew his stun staff and settled into a sweeping combination of Guardian and Morgukai close combat techniques.

Djen-Sha – the high sweeps to force the Chiss to block high, followed by Ven –Wo, low heavy strikes to floor them.  The Morgukai terminology rent from a fallen foe who had nearly killed him…had forced Melron to see how far behind he had fallen.  He kept these words, these techniques he had pulled from another’s memories close so he never forgot his shame.

The Eighteen months with the Chiss had been a whirlwind of learning and study for him, how to pilot and repair ships and military equipment, tactics for large scale battles – which for a man whose life had been spent as one of only a dozen Guardians any combat more than one on one was large scale. 

He had been eager to absorb it all, not to make up for his failures and despair, that h could never do – but to avoid repeating the same mistake twice. 

It has also been a time to teach.  He’d been paired with Milaea to serve as ensigns on a Chiss Battlecruiser and taken the chance to tell her the many stories of their People he had chronicled before the Devastation when he served as a chronicler, she in turn shared tales of the Jedi of old he could later adapt to be more…palatable…to the People. Nonetheless it had been enjoyable to get to know her better.

Though another corridor, loping into another room over a barricade he spotted two Red’s retreating a third crouched on the floor fiddling with…

A stream of high pressure water slammed into him as the wall beside her broke open.  Gushing and bubbling pressurized bursts soon began to freeze in the cold. Righting himself his boots slipped on the slippery ice of the water covered floor. 

Then the lights died.

Steading himself on a table he switched to night vision, the room etched out in ugly pixelated green

Then it burst into white again as the lights were switched on rapidly at maximum luminosity…then off…then on…

Anything and everything to sew confusion and difficulty for their progress, Alarms blared then went silent, fire and chemical suppressor sprinklers turned on then off coating the floors with foam and ice.

It was a struggle to move, to see, to hear even for him, how the Chiss with less advanced native senses coped he had no idea. 

Still he burst into the next room with a fast dive and tackled down three red’s, checked in with the main force following then secured the next hall, checking his scanner noting that there were only two locations where the generator could be that Blue team hadn’t previously checked.

He just hoped they chose the right one before…

His body seized as her suit’s electronics overloaded rendering him ‘dead’…

They were electrifying the wet floors.

<<<<>>>

 
Maeson

(https://i.ibb.co/JyfsPYy/Maes-R-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/JyfsPYy)

ODSC Rank: Master Sargent
Height: 180cm
Weight: 320kg
Gender: Male
Combat Analysis: Partial Guardian training by Jarys. Experience with Sons of Kessel, expert in heavy weapons, demolition and explosives, lowest Force ability of Tribe.
Anthropological Analysis: standard warrior role, however feels uncomfortable in such, previously farmer. 
Psychological Analysis: depressive mood resulting from loss of immediate family, attempt to transfer protectiveness to other female partial success resulting in further guilt.
SITL: 155


<<<<>>>>

Rapidly he grabbed the backpack of the soldier in front of him and lifted him up…

Before his fellow blue team member could ask what was going on the puddle on the floor lit with electricity he had sensed through his keener electro-magnetic sensory organs.

One handed he put the soldier down on the pitted concrete floor.  The Chiss nodded in appreciation,

Years with the Sons meant Maeson understood the value of keeping your allies – even if they were Outsiders — alive, something Selaena had never quite caught on to.

“Commander,” he commed across to her now,
“Their electrifying the floors and flooding sections with water, we’ll have to backtrack,”

There was a pause, Selaena was not talkative, indeed after he and Jarys rescued her from…horrific did not do it justice…circumstances near Toydaria it had been nearly five years since she spoke a word.

He didn’t blame her.  They had both lost family, both suffered beneath the whips and shock collars of outsiders, a weight that kept his own thoughts and heart dragging on the floor most times. Protecting the younger women gave him purpose now…but even so…the emptiness of his lost family would never be filled.

“Proceed as you see fitting,” was the only response.

Their numbers were dwindling, Selaena’s attack had gotten them deep and damaged Red team dramatically, but also cost many Blue’s…though arguably given there was only half an hour left her brutal methods were justified.

“Let’s go,” he ordered his five remaining troops. Pausing to grab his demolitions man’s back pack

“I’ll carry that from now on,”

He was after all much stronger and used to far heavier loads besides…load after load of water sapping red rocks in the mines…

He shrugged it off as they advanced rapidly back the way they came.

There was no resistance, Melron’s team seemed to have cleared a lot before they were caught in the desperate traps.  The lights continued to flicker and alarms to pulse on and off as he wound through consulting the schematics the infiltrators had provided to avoid corridors and rooms near water or gas pipes the Red.

“Taking fire from turrets!” “EMP!” “Turn turn,” his comm was filled with the struggles of the Blue’s up ahead

“33-10 is empty repeat 33-10 is…”

He stopped, 33-10 was the grid co-ordinates to one of only two locations large enough to hold the generator…it meat 13-45 was the location.

His squad, with usual Chiss efficiency were already turning in that direction. 

They ran now, stopping for nothing, shots came from the side at times but they sped past. 

They leapt over the fallen groaning bodies of the team Adaea had been part of, the young Aethan woman pouting in the corner at having been ambushed, then nearly knocked over a group of three ODSC’s directly ahead,

“We’ll take vanguard,” Sofa said, she’d had to run to get here from the evac zone in time, armour still flecked with ammonia crystals.

Maeson simply nodded and they moved forward at pace, the ODSC’s rolling flashbangs and EMP’s down side corridors to deter pursuit, Maeson having his tech deploy a portable turret at a four way intersection to slow anyone behind them

Finally they came to the large blast doors, Sofa skidded to the control panel, her ODSC’s on either side as Maeson covered the hall nearby.

Tense moments ticked as he waited for the hiss of the door opening.

“Got it,”

Their last three grenades rolled inside and detonated in white flares of screaming noise as they moved in tight and low past the control consoles and tall computer towers covered in dials and lights.

The blue flickering tunnel of power charged coils bubbled in the centre as he ran in throwing off his demolitions pack and in swift motions armed the charges. 

It was mere seconds before the guards popped up from just inside the coils maintenance trench to fire. 

Side doors and ventilation panels burst open as Red’s blasted out with relentless precise fire, downing three in as many seconds.  The rest of the Blue’s were soon under desks and turning over chairs as the room lit up blue with criss-crossing fire.

His squad took the damage, sacrificing themselves to throw up portable energy barriers around him.

The far door opened as Maeson planted the last charge with one hand and completed a secondary objective with the second by slicing the generator central computer to download details of the planets defence grid.

Sofa and the ODSC’s took the brunt of fire now, she and another falling to it,

He ducked under a command console desk setting the timers as fire hammered all around the room from pistols and rifles, the cogitators and towering disk drives behind him flaring with electric overloads that took as many of his men as the shots did. 

The detonators counting down on Maeson realised he had no escape – he could at least go down fighting. 

Jutting out from the side of the console he searched for legs to fire at, but found…

Found himself hauled up by his neck like a vorynx cub by Milaea who stood on the console desk and pumped blaster shots into his back. 

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2020, 01:22:58 AM
Dramatis Personae — Part 4

Milaea

(https://thumb.ibb.co/d2Tj3T/M-53.png) (https://ibb.co/d2Tj3T)

ODSC Rank: Lieutenant
Height: 175cm
Weight: 280KG
Gender: Female

Combat Analysis: Guardian and Jedi training, Expert in force ‘Stasis’ abilities and Temporal Manipulation, appears to possess ability to manipulate objects on a molecular level –reforming or disintegrating. Strong Force Healing abilities.

Anthropological Analysis: ‘Failed Messiah’ role. Other members seem to have expected her to assume leadership as matriarch – see below for psychological reason for refusal to accept such role.

Psychological Analysis: through unknown means has access to ‘memories’ and experiences of a deceased Aethan ‘Aethena’. Whilst possessing typical Aethan task focus during a crisis she is subject to regret and overcritical analysis of herself post action. Ability to see alternate futures seems to be extremely burdensome leading to belief she is responsible individually for whole of galaxy scale events – to avoid this psychological burden she has attempted actively divested herself of any role in the Tribes leadership but compassionate personality type contrasted with Aethan Xenophobia and violent tenancies requires her to intervene nonetheless.  Pattern of assuming then relenting on leadership likely to result in increasing emotional stress.
SITL: >200


<<<<>>>>

It would be a battle to the last.

She’d played a patient and defensive game, with a few tricks, Jarys swapping armour, having Adaea reroute the generators power cables to set up ambushes, but Selaena’s brutal suicide run of her evac vessels into the facility had put her on the back foot.

Dropping Maeson to the floor she twirled her pistols like a gun fighter taking out the last blues.  Only a mere six minutes left, all she had to do was hold the room and defuse the bombs and she would score her Major victory as Red Leader.

That would finish eighteen months of their programme which had seen them studying Chiss military history to Quantum drive technology, refuelling and polishing fighters to commanding small fleet manoeuvres, hours practicing Chiss –Close Quarters Combat to week long war games.

It was to their credit in a way that the Aethans had tolerated obeying the Chiss, playing by their rules…Yet she was well aware that the People were playing a very long game here, and would most certainly gain more from the Chiss than the Chiss gained from them.

They had of course helped Chiss scientists in the study of some aetheric powers…but where the People could learn, master and practice all the Chiss knew, the Chiss could never put into practice the Aetheric techniques for lack of Force sensitivity…one day that disparity would see the Ascendancy come to need the Aethans far more than the Aethans needed them…One Day

She motioned for her guards to secure the room, and her remaining demolitions expert to work on diffusing the bomb, then checked on the overall battle scape

The Blue forces were concentrated in just a few rooms and corridors, hers were more spread out but were able to hit them from multiple angles at once.

With rapid fire, flash bangs and stun nets Blue fought to gain every inch, Selaena leading her rifle never missing as she advanced, her blows never failing as she struck back when Red Crowd control troops tried to box her in with riot shields that she shattered apart with genuine hate for the Outsiders.

Red held onto every minute as the clock wore down, Milaea taking every chance to try and flank the enemy though secret passageways even as she disrupted their senses by overloading lights and stymied their movement with barricades and clutter to force them into kill boxes.

On both sides the ODSC had performed with efficiency and cunning. They were the best of the Chiss, Elite among Elites, they could see the traps and tactics used against them, knew when to push and when to hold, no resource was waste, if a shot missed it was because their target was as skilled as they were – it was inevitable the battle would end with 80 per cent causalities or more on both sides given the even match up.

Another minute ticked down as Milaea waited, the gun fire outside the doors grew louder, her squad leaders pulling back from their attacks to her location.

It was now at long last Kiraea struck.

She had waited poised on the struts above the door way as Maesons team entered after three hours to sneaking around taking out Red’s here and there while they engaged the Blues, bleeding them bit by bit but never revealing herself, just adding to the chaos of each engagement.

She dropped from the ceiling straight onto the Red Demolition’s expert, 300 kilo’s plus of weight crushing the Chiss woman to the floor even as Kiraea’s pistols fires in 270 degree arcs to take out the other Red’s she had pinpointed behind cover.

Milaea spun and fired off pointless shots knowing Kiraea could dodge, Kiraea leapt off the unconscious victim of her drop the detonator still ticking down and charged.

Two Aethan women struck with blows and counters many beyond the ability of the Chiss playing dead on the floor to keep track of.

Trained as a Guardian by the late Karintha, Kiraea’s strikes were economical for the most part but peppered with viciously effective acrobatic twists that made complete use of an Aethan’s superior dexterity and speed, every strike aiming to kill and cripple.

Milaea’s blocks and counters were elegant, flowing with a calm serenity of motion like a physical meditation, but the blows lacked ferocity, the Jedi influence in her strikes aimed only to disable and defend.

The Chiss who gazed in awe were split on who would win – Kiraea’s attacks seemed irresistible, it was only a matter of time before one struck true brutally – Milaea’s defence was impenetrable and effortless, soon she would wear the other out or gain enough space to grab one of the fallen blasters and end it that way.

Yet Maeson and Sofa on the floor saw something deeper - a battle of wills and possible futures, a continuation of the first time Kiraea and Milaea had met – fighting while jumping across Coruscant traffic as Kiraea lead an attack to distract the Jedi by devastating the civilian population as Milaea tried to stop her.

Kiraea represented the very depth of active hatred of Outsiders, justified by the raw scars of the suffering they had inflicted, yet pragmatic enough to learn from the Outsiders now to destroy them later. 

Milaea was the peace and serenity of the People, firm and assertive in her defence of herself and her People, but no more than that.

The disadvantage this time fell to Milaea, she needed to defuse the bomb…and Selaena, all but two of her men wiped out now blasted the doors open.

The distraction was enough for a break in the main fight, Milaea’s few remaining Red team members opened up on Selaena pinning her in place, as Milaea herself spun down to grab the detonator and discarded micro-tools, fingers working swiftly to finish the work her Chiss expert had started…

Until Kiraea kicked it from her hands, her foot rising up…then back down to slam into Milaea’s back.

Milaea rolled to avoid a ‘killing’ blow and was soon back up.  Aethan’s did not feel pain as most beings did, they experienced awareness of damage but not a visceral sensation – Milaea felt that now everywhere Kiraea hit as she fought on her knees.

With the Aether Milaea could overpower Kiraea, without it though...Milaea was only 23, in the at the latter end of her first pubertal growth stage, Kiraea was 38 at the end of her second pubertal stage on the edge before full adulthood – stronger, faster and hardier as a result – and though their training was broadly on par, that extra strength and experience soon showed.

Milaea blocked and pushed up on one knee, but Kiraea would not allow her to get up fully, pirouetting kicks constantly forcing Milaea back down and keeping Kiraea almost constantly airborne, her lithe feet only briefly gracing the floor before springing her back up.

The battle behind peppered out, the last red defenders flanked the few Blues and Selaena left riddling them with shots, the detonator had 15 seconds left…

Then 10…before their induction was complete, their skills sharpened and expanded, their position with the Chiss irrevocable, the next step to taking their Goddess given place among the stars Kiraea thought

Then 5…before it finished with a faux bang, sore bodies, and they returned Home to rebuild, to recover, to hopefully find peace behind the necessary evil of strengthened defences Milaea hoped as her head, breast and shoulders were battered flaring dull pink with light damage sensation.

4…Milaea opened her fists and took a blow rather than block grabbing Kiraea’s leg

3…she twisted viciously and quickly using Kiraea’s momentum to drive her to the ground

2…she let go and skidded to the side grabbing up the detonator, micro-blade cutting finely and precisely, Aethan reflexes letting her fill every millisecond with motion most droids couldn’t match.

1…Kiraea took no chances and grabbed a nearby rifle twisted and fire.

0.5 It struck Milaea’s back just as she spun o throw the micro-blade into the visor right at Kiraea’s eye…had she thrown with full strength it would’ve pierced through.

Zero.

The day ended with Minor victory for Milaea’s red team, the planetary shield still online, but both sides wiped out.

In the next second the Aethan women in the room happily sped into each other’s embrace.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on February 25, 2020, 09:09:01 PM
ohh....     I need to get these biologs to Karmack somehow...    ;-)

Sweet, LSG!   No time for more, but awesome beginning!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 02, 2020, 06:24:04 AM
Chapter 1 — No Place like….— Part 1

Milaea

(https://i.ibb.co/7N4dRGg/Aertemisclass.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)

With a burst of pseudo deceleration the Aertemisaea burst back into real space, the last in a series of 18 short controlled jumps since leaving Arioch with their newly pressed uniforms and rank badges.

The black spear head shaped ship was surrounded by a rainbow vista of overly bright of stars in innumerable colours that Milaea gazed at through the slowly opening lower hull doors in the absence of any regular windows featuring in the ships design.

There was a beauty to the Deep Core, the clusters of light from so many tightly packed stars and nebulae creating a kaleidoscope with constant flashes of supernovae millennia old reaching the skies here a million years before it would reach Coruscant. Nebulae lit with the flashes a million colours as they swirled in gravity tussles between heavy ancient stars.

The mesmerizing churn belied the dangers.  The compounded gravity of so many nearby stars, clustering of dark matter, intense neutrino clouds…Sudden waves of radiation from a stellar implosions centuries ago that would kill entire mining crews in an instant leaving eerie floating vessels in once safe hyperspace lanes.

Distortions in space time as one neared not just the singularity at the centre of the galaxy, but ancient enormous stars of hydrogen so tightly compacted by their own gravity they could not properly expand into red giants, jostling with each rending holes in the fabric of reality creating wormholes into which ships would slip.  For the crew they could experience mere minutes of alerts and shaking, before emerging a millennia or more after – or sometimes before they had entered.

Yet the system she gazed at from high above the orbital plane was an oasis of stability. 

She closed her eyes feeling the sub-light engines take over from the deceleration drives, the warm blanket of the Aether in this system reaching out to welcome her.

Her skin tingled at the sensation, there was something almost sentient about the entire systems presence, and it reached out to its Children like a caring, but disturbingly needy and protective mother.

Through the ship she felt the others slip into the heated pool of connection without thought, without doubt – by instinct. Only Sofa, who had once been human, and Milaea herself were tentative to accept the looming hands that sought to claim them as their own.

Relenting Milaea let the honey like flow cover her, protective and joyful at her return, her senses immediately sharpened as though she could feel out every inch of the planets they were approaching and those around her.

There were nine planets in total, three by three, many in unusual, one might say artificial orbits – as Aethans had been perfected from Miraluka and Human hybrids, so too had the ancient Technocracy perfected the planets in this system.

The two closest planets to the star were Aedas and Althea – small and rocky with any atmosphere long since striped by solar winds, but like every planet in the system rich with rare elements and ultradense minerals – the only reason anyone braved the dangers of the deep core any longer was the pursuit of such mining wealth. 

The higher gravity of the deep core and the larger number of dense stellar implosions in the past meant compared to planets further out, the deep core worlds contained far more heavy elements in their composition, Uranium, Plutonium, Platinum and even some high atomic number elements over 100 that would not normally have stable isotopes and otherwise needed to be artificially created. 

From there on the far ‘east’ of the system was Aesaea and Alixaea, larger terrestrial worlds, the first with a bone crushing dense atmosphere the second a thin nitrogenous layer mixed with ammonia spewed out by archaea that lived in watery caverns just beneath the surface.  Both were used for mining and manufacturing, half of Alixaea though was a waste land used for weapons testing by the Technocracy, endless radioactive cratered wastes of grey and red dust.

Then currently to the ‘south’ on the orbital plane Aethas itself, a large planet with high gravity, much like the species that had been created there it had been ‘perfected’, the atmosphere edited, ecosystems carefully planned…all shattered by the bombardment of Sith Dreadnoughts…Chiss terraforming and Yuuzhan Vong Bio technology was slowly working its way to recover the steppes back into fields, the parched lands into rainforests.

Further out were the gas giants, Aephrodaea, Aethenaea and Aertemisaea, named for their three Goddesses, each was surrounded by a halo of moons and asteroids, Aephrodaea with two unusually…again she suspected artificially…large accretionary rings within which the Technocracy fleet had been based – the dry docks and orbital stations were long since destroyed by the Sith, and many of the moons were littered with the wrecks of Sith and Technocracy ships in a ratio of 12 to 1 based on Chiss scans. Now it was home to ship yards once more, of Chiss design but building three more Aethan Destroyers like the one she was on now – the Aethenaea would be ready in less than two months, the other two, Aephrodaea and Persephaea a few months after that. 

In less than a year they would have fleet of four Aetermisaea class Destroyers – though in truth they were ships not easily classified - just over 350 metres in length their size comparable to a Cruiser, conventional  armament just below that of a Chiss Battlecruiser but with very unconventional Aetheric warfare Nexus, and the ultradense Blackstone that lined gave mass equal to ships nearly 4 times as big.

Regardless four such vessels, each provisioned with equally unique Karintha Class assault transports andVorynx fighters…for a population of only twelve adults and 20 infant clones in stasis growth tubes…

This was the paranoia of the People made machine.

Beyond the coloured giants, barely held by the suns gravity were Aeda, Varas and Alina – three micro planets in an unnaturally precise Trinitarian orbit of each other, that itself orbited the sun perpendicular to the orbital plane of all the other worlds – again this seemed intentional, at some point for reasons known only to the Technocracy the three micro planets had been brought together and had the orbit hit 90 degrees. 

Gentle chimes sounded as they came closer to the planet.  She could feel the Chiss worker in their ships nearby more fully now – focused and professional as ever, some on the Dreadnought kept for protection somewhat bored but they would never show it.

The sensation of cloying warmth and closeness built as the planet approached, the spread of coloured stars was soon replaced by the curve of Aethas blue atmosphere, excitement filled the ship, after so long away soon they would be home.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/vVRxtxt/Aethas-Tearsof-Aeph.jpg) (https://ibb.co/vVRxtxt)

The cut into the atmosphere was smooth, below she could feel the spring of life rebuilding. 

Long ages past the Sith Armada had devastated much of the planet, but now fifteen years of Chiss Terraforming catalysed by Yuuzhan Vong bio-technological genius was paying dividends in the form of regrown forests and grasslands.

Like the Aethan themselves, every plant, insect, fungi and unicellular organism was a product of the Technocracies genetic re-design, built to survive and thrive, and they had held on through the long years, but even they could only subsist when so much of the surface had been glassed by Turbo lasers from orbit. 

Enormous Chiss vehicles ploughed glassy cracked earth, dumped back into the mantle and recycled in a volcanic region in the centre of the south eastern ocean. With the dirt beneath exposed 'native' flora and fauna began reclaiming the land rapidly with the aid of specially designed Vong soil additives that increased water and nutrient retention beyond what Chiss technology could offer once isolated pockets of green now spreading across the surface, linking up here and there to reforge a united ecosystem.

“Starting on Approach, course locked transmitting clearance codes, Milaea can you open the door?”

Lyaea’s voice broke through her observations as their ship rapidly approached a snow capped mountain range. 

The mountains that bordered the People’s Valley were made principally of Greysleet – an ultradense mineral rock forged in the crushing gravity of the deep core containing a high portion of what the galaxy referred to as Phirk – a nigh indestructible and lightweight metal comparable to beskar in its resistance to lightsabres and damage, indeed it was gram for gram worth more than Beskar as outside of the deep core it was extraordinarily rare, and few were fool enough to test the dangers of the deep core to mine it here.

But this system was blessed with such dense materials, and more importantly the People had learnt how to use them.

The Mountain filled the view screen entirely as Milaea stood on the bridge behind the main pilot’s chair – despite the complexity of the Destroyer class vessel a small population meant the Destroyer had to be designed to operate effectively with only one pilot.

Lyaea did not even reduce speed as she approached.  Milaea reached out to what appeared to the a craggy face of the mountain and Lifted

A vast side of the mountain slid up and inward.  Made of Blackstone, another ultradense material that ate light and defied classification between metal and stone, it had been ‘enchanted’ as Adaea would call it – infused with the aether - to make it easier to shift telekinetically.  The vast hidden door into the mountain fortress weighed an enormous amount, but with the infused aetheric enchantment it was as easy to move aside telekinetically as a pebble.

Now slowing the darkened hollow in the mountain lit with blue and white lights.

This was Mount Aelia, the Phirk and Blackstone hollowed by a combination of Chiss Mining, Aethan Precision Telekinesis and more recently Yuuzhan Vong Dovin Basals to create a fortress within the mountain – their new base of operations protected by dozens of metres of Phirk and Blackstone, kilometres of tunnels and vast galleries, the majority empty awaiting occupation by a renewed People.

The valuable minerals extracted from mining were either used for building their new Destroyers or given to the Chiss as compensation for their work, a small portion sold on the open market in the Republic – just enough to bring in billions of credits, but not so much as to cause a drop in price.

The docking bay was the first section completed, it was largely the same design as a Chiss Dreadnaught hanger, overhead docking cradles, neatly parked supply and repair trucks, cargo droids at attention, and well polished walls lined with lights…and concealed defensive turrets.

The Aertemisaea gently lowered into one of the two largest docking cradles built for it beneath within the mountain as droids began to sweep toward the belly of the ship to change out atmosphere, check landing gear and remove spent fuel cells.

“You alright?” Sofa’s voice was warm as her touch on Milaea’s arm,

“Yes just…taking it in seems we’ve been gone forever,”

“Over a year…” Milaea felt her sister reach out through the mountain
“Wow…this place is much bigger than when we left…empty though…”

“Soon it will refill,” she said quietly

<<<<>>>>

The contrast was strangely pleasing.

The warmth of the welcome in the aether surrounding her soul.  The ice cold of the water surrounding her body.

The People had never ventured off world till twenty years ago, then not by choice.  New rituals had to be devised to facilitate their return back home properly, the main one being a ritual purification for the women in the pool outside the Cavern of Aephrodaea, a network of sacred women’s spaces hidden behind a waterfall fed by freezing melt waters from the mountains above.

If it didn’t cleanse her of actual dirt it did have the effect of cleansing her of the worries and baggage of the long trip back here after the Battle of Ord Mirit. 

First they had dropped the Sons of Kessel off in the Outer Rim and spent a few weeks helping them secure a new base in an abandoned mine.  Then a brief stop to task Lyr and Maynard, their Outsider ‘helpers’ with what needed to be done while they were gone and setting the Extolled to work.  Picking up the Aertemisaea they next went to Kamino to secure the remaining clones, then straight to Csilla then Arioch to keep as far from the Jedi – both physically and in the Force – as possible whilst also fulfilling their obligations under the treaty with the Chiss.

It had been a busy time, and now some relaxation was in order before the next phase of their Peoples recovery.

Gentle splashes about her indicated the other women were about also enjoying the cold waters than ran down into the valleys river.  It was comforting to have them there, and yet still it felt…empty…there were so many small pools in the rocks leading up to the mountain, enough for a hundred women or more…not the handful they had now.

She allowed her mind to slip from her body tentatively searching the future for any hint at when…If this place would be full again…

She knew she ought not to, that scrying the future had caused her so much pain so often…but couldn’t’ help herself…she needed to know where they were headed to make sure they didn’t end up either being wiped out or…wiping the rest of the galaxy out.

For now there was just a series of vague silhouettes, their number and identity indistinct…the future was still in flux it seemed.

Detaching her focus on Time she probed further into Space seeking out any trace of other Aethans…

It had become something of a habit, her vision on Ord Mirit had included a young Aethan woman among Gray Jedi of some kind, but such was the nature of visions that the time, place and disposition most likely had changed since then…it could be happening now…a hundred years from now, or twenty years ago. 

Still she looked in the sea of the aether every now and then hoping for any trace, and remnant of another Aethan to appear.

There was nothing…just the interminable clutter of Aetheric background noise beyond the edge of the system…finding and communicating with someone even across the galaxy was not a problem if you knew their distinct aura to start off with, and they were not closed off in hiding. 

Surrendering her efforts she stepped out of the pool, the icy water trickling off her in the dusk light – she had been there much longer than she realised.  Wandering up to the caverns lit with the orange glow of a fire and peppered with the giggles and chatter of the other women

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 02, 2020, 06:29:59 AM
Chapter 1 — No Place like….— Part 2

Milaea

(https://i.ibb.co/mHc3zhx/MR-7.jpg) (https://ibb.co/mHc3zhx)

Stretching out on the woollen rug she felt the warmth of the fire sink into her limbs.

She felt cleaner, comfier than she had in months now, finally a sense of home in the cavern adorned with the sculptures and art work of her forebears, the other women nearby sleeping and the Goddesses ever present in the aether that enfolded her.

A spare thought in her outer consciousness considered the men who were busy in Mount Aelia unloading the ship while the women had been at the Caverns and Pools…she ought to help them out rather than indulging in the privileges of matriarchy, but they would likely dislike it, after all it was necessary for the women to reconnect with home first.

Pulling up the woven rug she felt herself slowly drifting in and out of consciousness…for the first time since Ord Mirit she would sleep fully with all six levels of thought at rest at once, something no Aethan could ever afford to indulge in anywhere but Home.

Spiralling thoughts from the day twisted in her mind like the accretion disks around the deep core stars, the light of which streamed into the caverns from the clear night sky a gentle purple with flickers of green as a star went super nova half a million years ago.

She was safe here, between her and the galaxy were a Chiss Dreadnought, an Aethan Destroyer, tonnes of Greysleet and Blackstone, and four Aethan men who could –and had – beaten Jedi Masters and Sith Spawn to death with their bare fists…and that was just the frontline…behind them Kiraea, Lyaea, Selaena…even Adaea could match a Knight or two...as stealth, sniper and support in combination with the sledgehammer blows the men could dish out it would take a score of Sentinels, or hundreds of conventional soldiers to reach her even if they got through the space defences.

Yet itching at her mind was how many others were out there not enjoying such security, how many others remained lost….injured…in pain…how would she heal those she did know about, her Grandmother Kassyndra, and Selaena’s son Lydan both in cryogenic stasis harmed by outsiders and awaiting healing.

Her comfort lost in the worry for others pain she got up for a short walk past the others who gently slept.

Toward the back of the cavern she reached the tunnel to the Womb of Aephrodaea, a chamber she had visited just before her….Apotheosis…on Ord Mirit…where she had seen and spoken to the Goddesses themselves.

She sat cross legged and naked at the entrance, wide, red and dark staring at her as much as she stared at it.

“How do we rest, recover, repopulate…” she asked the breeze that came from the cave

“There are only ten of us…twenty clone babies…not enough adults to look after them and rebuild and meet our obligations to the Chiss and Extolled…let alone have time to find other survivors…and we can’t risk leaving the Deep Core to look blindly, if the Jedi sense us so soon after…”

No response came, just the gentle flow of water in the deeper caverns into cisterns and the river that flowed from the mountain.

Her eyes were glued to the black for a long time, watching the nothingness as figures wandered past while she turned the corner into the room where Director Canyn was waiting with the schematic on the wall, Aeda had been drilled and was ready for installation the first Obelisk is being prepared now my Lady according to your designs”

“And the others?” she said impatiently as if the survival of the Technocracy depended on it – perhaps it did?

“Three are under development in Mount Alixaea, the Aetheric Programming is more complex than we originally anticipated,”

Aethena had no time for the limitations of lesser Gene-generations, she would need to accelerate the Genetic upgrades past the Guardian squads, the Sith were tiptoeing the edge of their outer perimeter defences as they spoke.

“We need the array active, even partially to find the rest of the Tribe,” she went on as Adaea sat beside a pillar with a console indented with places for nine Oblivion Orbs as the Technocracy scientists wandered to and fro 700 years before her

“My Aethena,” Director Canyn said “Are you awake?”

“My Aethena…Myathena…Mylthena…Milena…Milaea?” Sofa finished gently shaking her.

“huh…” here eyes were craggy with sleep but felt dry as if they’d been open for hours.

“Milaea are you alright…what are doing sitting all the way over here, you’ll catch a cold…well, actually…” Sofa paused “Do we even get colds?”

“hmm anyway, put this on,” Sofa didn’t give here a choice draping a rug over her shoulders.

“You look very pale come by the fire,”

“No…I mean yes…but then…signal Valens tell him we need to go to Mount Alixaea…with a ship and excavation equipment…and have Melron and Maeson do a thourough scan of the planet Aeda – not with Chiss tech it must’ve missed it already, get the Extolled to help with Dovin Basals and the Aether.”

Sofa looked as perplexed as Milaea looked frantic

“I…saw something….remembered something from just before the collapse…a memory of Aethena, there is a Remnant of the Technocracy we must recover,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 06, 2020, 10:26:54 PM
ohh....     I need to get these biologs to Karmack somehow...    ;-)

Sweet, LSG!   No time for more, but awesome beginning!
RIGHT?!?

And that intro!!!!

I love, Love, LOVE what you did there, LSG!  I'm going to have to steal duplicate that (was that with a technical assist by FT?)  8)

Getting this background on the Aethans feels not only rewarding but highly satisfying (the Aertemisaea looks incredible!)  I have to admit that I'm thrilled that we are getting a direct continuation (as well as tangential storylines) for the Aethans. 

I've said it before: THIS is the story that the SW Universe NEEDS.

Did I mention how much I enjoyed the opening crawl  ;) ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 09, 2020, 01:50:03 AM
Chapter 2 — Echoes — Part 1

Milaea

Aethans had an instinct it seemed, to build things inside or near mountains, a need to live out their role as “Queens of the Hill”…or perhaps it was simply that they were convenient places to build, dotted with womb like caverns for shelter and rituals, pure melt waters from the snow on the peaks and generally far enough from the forest proper to avoid predators.

There were the caverns of Aephrodaea, obviously and presumably a similar caverns for Aertemisaea and Aethenaea somewhere else that had been lost.  The survivors of the Collapse had hidden away beneath the northern mountains of the valley when Aethena destroyed the last of the Sith before herself descending into the mountains where the altar that held a stagnant baby Valens had sat. 

But even before that the vast majority of Technocracy facilities had been built beneath or within mountains, mostly laboratories in their quest for genetic apotheosis.  It was one of these lost facilities they were now trying to find.

After the Collapse, as society changed from the refined Technocracy to the Tribal People only the Guardians had ventured out of the Valley into the ashen wastes of the dead lands and even then only as far as they could walk or ride on a gormin carrying water and food with them.  They sought out ruins of the old times but found little before having to turn back from the waterless deserts of a damaged landscape.

The furthest they had ever come was written in stone before her.

Milaea stood clothed in hardy leathers before the largest of the rocks in the blasted pile that had runes carved into the face beneath a Triquetra symbol.

“The Northern Limit. Eilaea Set the Stone.  Winter - Bow tip. Summer - left hoof of Bomo.”

The last lines referred to navigation points to return to the valley using the stars as a guide depending on the season , it was assumed the reader would already know to use Aethenaea’s eye – the Celestial North pole as the fixed point to determine the heading.

That Eilaea had gotten this far was impressive, by Milaea’s estimate it would’ve taken nearly two months travel the nearly 4000 KM, while an Aethan could easily run over a 100kmph, the terrain Milaea had flown over was difficult and Eilaea would’ve had to carry food and water for the return trip as well, navigating the ravines to the south would’ve been beyond hard carrying all she needed with the basic climbing equipment she likely had.

Milaea looked up past the runes to Mount Alixaea in the distance – past the rocky patches were now nitrogen fixing grasses planted by Chiss agri-droids to restore the soil.

Mount Alixaea was a free standing mountain surrounded by what was once pastures and plains, dominating the landscape its snowy white peak just scratching the clouds. 

Beyond that were the far northern mountains and glaciers, Mount Alixaea was actually a part of the same curved geological strata as those mountains, the dip in the curve of rock had filled with the compacted sands worn off the mountains over time to create a steppe like area that was then plied by glaciers – leaving Alixaea apart from its more distant peers.

Rolling her arms around to get warm the winds picked up bringing the cold off the distant glaciers.  Given the low temperatures perfect for storing bio matter by saving on artificial coolants there would no doubt there would be many Technocracy facilities in the far northern mountains – exactly where was what they didn’t know – her memories from Aethena were fragmentary at best, Valens memories as Valance no more precise.

On top of that the ultradense greysleet and blackstone was too thick for even Chiss sensors to penetrate, and ground side scans wouldn’t have picked up concealed entry ways. 

They would have to search on foot.

She passed her hand over the runes Eilaea had carved in the old script, a simplified version of the High Galactic the Technocracy had used more suited to writing with basic materials on parchments and papyrus.

“Did you ever go to the mountain…or further after your wrote this?” she wondered aloud

She thought about Eilaea, reaching this place and seeing the solitary mountain in the distance, it was just over 40 km to the base from here…Eilaea could’ve managed that in 15 minutes…but then what…she wouldn’t have had the supplies to attempt a climb or even trace around the mountains base…and so she carved a sign to remind her of the northern limit and had to turn back.

“Anything?” Sofa called from the hatch of the hovering Assualt Transport Lyssia

“A Marker to light our way.”

<<<<>>>>

Lord Yn

700 Years Ago

(https://i.ibb.co/RvTLQMz/LordYn.png) (https://ibb.co/RvTLQMz)

 “FORWARD!” his voice scratched for the constant bellowing
“FORWARD!”

Before him teeming masses of sweaty barely clad bodies pressed, the air above them a heated haze from their body heat and blood.  Every moment a dozen were killed by the concealed turrets, a score more were needed to finally get into it and tear it apart by hand.

Behind him hot air gushed from the engines of the huge haulers.  The ships were little more than enormous shipping containers with an engine strapped to them.  Each filled with hundreds or more slave soldiers, killing each other as much as the enemy, another two or three hundred leapt out and over each other to escape the cramped confines, brutes killing their cell mates to get out, bloodied and half eaten bodies of the weak left on the containers floor.

Such was the way of the Sith, the strong would survive, the weak were fodder.

“FORWARD!” Yn Sa’c’han…or rather Lord Yn… blared once more standing atop a pile of dead slaves.

He couldn’t care less how many of these creatures died, they could always obtain more slaves, and it was better than sacrificing his retainers against the malevolent creatures that inhabited this world.

The dark side called a warning and he threw a slave above him to take the stray blast from one of their fighters above.  Each of its blue bolts incinerated another six slaves before Sith fighters came in behind to bring it down.

He watched as the blade shaped fighter exploded but not before the pilot leapt out at least 500 metres above the ground – no parachute or jump jets.

Aetharians did not need them.

“See he’s dealt with!” Yn ordered his Third Sword a towering yinchorri with more scars than skin who had followed the bloody path of the Sith – beginning as a slave like the throngs before him he had caught the attention of Lord Ctash after killing two Sith Knights of an opposing demesne in battle, placed in the ‘main’ forces he continued to excel and was shrewd enough to join Yn’s faction, killing two of Ctash body guards as Yn mauled his former Lord to death with his own crown.

Such was the way of the Sith, it was rare for any Lord to remain in power more than a few years, inconceivable one was not subject to weekly rebellions and assassination attempts. 

And that was just within their own ranks, all the Deep Core System Lords were in a constant state of war, the only thing that had temporarily unified them was the discovery after decades of effort of the Aetharians home world.  Even so…at least three Lords were fighting among themselves in orbit and on the ground.

Yn couldn’t care less, if he could obtain the Aetharians weapons and technology for himself he could dominate the demesnes of the Deep Core then spread his reach further. 

To the east the Aetharian pilot landed amidst the throngs, a surge of lighting scarring the crater as he slaughtered slaves by the dozen. 

The only way to defeat them Yn found was sheer overwhelming numbers – this one would fight for hours, kill thousands of the untrained and desperate slaves wielding little more than broken pipes and the occasionally shattered sword. 

Let him, there were millions more where that came from – entire systems had been enslaved in the Sith advanced into the deep core, billions of beings and hundreds of cities dominated while the so called Dark Underlord and his Black Knights conquered along the Zona Miki route in the outer rim, building on the early success under Darth Ruin, who was also killed by his thralls after showing weakness. It was the way of the Sith.

A groan accompanied the lifting of battering rams through the throngs as the last turrets were ripped apart, the stench of the dead building.  The Aetharians had built their facility beneath this mountain, and Yn would have it for himself.  They had been a pestering enemy, assassinating and manipulating the System Lords to keep themselves safe as the Sith encroached further, trying to divert them away – for decades it had worked, but eventually their game was discovered.

They were as ruthless and powerful as any Sith, but few in number and less well equipped – focused on stealing technology and information, Yn had realised slowly this meant they had been isolated before the Sith arrived- not backward but a generation or two behind in military technology whilst several centuries if not millennia ahead of the Sith in their understanding of the Force, biotechnology and genetic research.

A blinding flare of white lit up as the fallen pilot exploded himself wiping out a few hundred slaves and Yn’s Third Sword. 

What they had lacked in technology they made up for in body.

Yn was yet to hear of one that was not able to use the Force, yet to see one that was not a physical powerhouse capable of bending metal with bare hands, moving at speeds that would give a normal being whiplash – the tales told of the Red Woman slaughtering aged Sith Masters with a flick of her hair, imploding Dreadnoughts with a blaze of red energy were, Yn had learned, not exaggerations. 

Indeed Yn owed his position to the desolation the other one – the Dark Man – had caused destroying Lord Ctash Fortress on Yntril VIII – Ctash had stockpiled vast resources there to prepare for an invasion of Byss at the time controlled by Lord Gnar, the Dark Man arrived with at most ten other Aetharians and turned it to a molten slag heap by destroying the safeties on the geothermal generators and detonating a nuclear warhead to cause a localised shift in the mantle bubbling up magma to flood the fortress – his authority and glory broken Yn had overthrown the fool.

But still they were mortal, still they would fall.  Their small navy destroyed by overwhelming fire power, their ground forces and handful of cities decimated by orbital bombardment, all that remained was their laboratories…

The first battering ram hammered into the heavy stone door – ultra dense material dismissing the durasteel. 

It will break…if it costs me a million more slaves…it will break
<<<<>>>>
Eilaea
400 Years Ago
(https://i.ibb.co/VN4MxgH/Aun.jpg) (https://ibb.co/VN4MxgH)

Plonking herself on a rock she looked up at the peak.

It had begun as a white shard on the horizon…then grown….and grown…and grown…

Now it dominated her field of vision.

Swinging her worn pack around she noted the main cover needed to be resewn…again…

Pulling out a strip of gormin jerky she slowly chewed on the dehydrated strip – her only source of meat for the last month as nothing seemed to live in the waste land to hunt, not even plants she could survive on if desperate.

“It’s a long road back if this is all I have to eat…” Eilaea sighed.  So far as she knew this was as far north as anyone had been since the mythical time before the Collapse.  She’d hoped to find the lost city of Alixa…but so far had come across nothing but a few strange jagged metal pieces poking up from the ground, ancient bones of trolls and goblins, and a strange material that was like fabric…but…not…it was all yellow with black markings.

That last piece she kept, the others too large and heavy to take with her back to the valley – still the other Guardians would not doubt her report of Troll and Goblin skulls.

Pulling out her satchel of dried Kyala fruits she picked the smallest three as she did every time since she began and the satchel was much more full…at least this way she thought if she were really hungry she’d have the biggest ones yet to eat.

Even so…water was the main problem…she had been able to refill one bladder with some water she had boiled in the ravines, but since then there was nothing, no rain and no snow…except at the top of the mountain before her.

Night was falling, she was done for the day…

Tomorrow she would have to decide, turn back now or head to the mountain, see if any melt water trickled down that she could refill on to avoid using the water she kept for the return journey.

Tonight…she would check the stars again and leave a note on the big stone.

<<<<>>>>
Milaea
Sometimes, Milaea thought, her People made things hard on themselves in the name of their traditions.

Case in point were Valens and Jarys manually digging into the moisture leaching ash and dirt at the third area they thought there might be an entrance into the mountain buried by 700 or more years of sediment.

It was seen as ‘unfitting’ to dig up with a machine or with the aether…at first she hadn’t been sure why, given they were happy to use machinery to excavate within Mt Aelia…the explanation was simply inside a mountain that had no caverns there wasn’t much to damage, here they might uncover a fallen Aethans body so had to be more careful.

Even accounting for this not using the aether seemed inefficient…yet they persisted never wanting to rely on it…and it was after a few hours a good workout.

“Not going to join us?” She called to Sofa over the occasional huff, they could work for days without rest but were working faster than normal pace.

“Of course not, someone has to be the backup in case you unearth some crazed Aethan Vampire. “

That…might not be so impossible…. Milaea had to concede despite well knowing Sofa’s main motivation was leering over Valens and Jarys barely clothed muscular bodies heaving with exertion. 

They were the second team looking for ruins, Kiraea, Adaea and Lyaea exploring the other side of the mountain.

“Hang on…got something here,” Jarys backed from his section as the dirt tumbled listlessly

“Not as compacted here…interesting…” 

“Sinkhole?” Valens asked

“Maybe…let’s dig around it.”

Four times stronger and faster than an athletic human they made light work of the softer ground till they stopped.

“This is different…”

Jarys held up a dirty but still largely intact leather hat.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 09, 2020, 01:52:44 AM
Chapter 2 — Echoes — Part 2

 
Adyn

700 Years Ago

(https://i.ibb.co/kDgdkbs/Aydn-The-Ancient.jpg) (https://ibb.co/kDgdkbs)


“No contact from command, all channels are dead…”

“Seal off the tunnels,” Adyn ordered calmly

The Guardian complied without question knowing very well what it meant – there would be no leaving the Mount Alixaea facility unless they were relieved from outside – and with hundreds of thousands of sith slaves at the door and the fleet gone…

“We should start purge protocols immediately, the Sith have won.” Iphsa determined.

“She’s not dead yet…” Adyn countered

“This isn’t just one dreadnought,” she snapped back

“Even so…” he turned to the plexglass over looking the Technocracies archives, rows of memory orbs and data drives blinking gentle blue in cold storage – the lessons of millennia of genetic advancement and Aetheric studies, the recordings of their culture, music, arts…and in the levels below the workshops where the Obelisks sat half completed – what they were for he did not know - only that they must be protected at all costs.

He would Not purge the Aethan Technocracies treasures and technologies unless there was no other choice to keep it from Sith hands.

“…while Aethena lives there is hope…she may be upgrading the others as we speak.”

Last he heard the second Aethenaean – the male Valance – was undergoing upgrades to Gene generation 30, to be followed by the Guardian Elite corps – if they could upgrade them all to new bodies 9 generations of physical and aetheric prowess beyond his own generation 21 body…they could snatch victory from the Sith today, upgrade the rest of the population over the next few months and then…

The dream would continue, a cascade of innovation as they made themselves more intelligent and powerful so they could design ever greater upgrades, ever more efficient ways of applying them – using the Blackstone ‘Altars’ during reforging to contain a person’s essence was effective, but they were few in number and difficult to make for Generation 19’s…

But for now he had to deal with the nightmare of the Sith. He had only 7 including himself to defend the facility, everyone else had been reposted as the attacks began to defend civilian centres.

Bwwwuuummmm..

The entire facility boomed as something heavy smashed into the outer door…heavier than the previous battering rams it seemed. 

“This is the line…if they reach the control room we purge…until then we fight on, it’s only a matter of time before they open those doors…let’s give them a warm welcome.”

Iphsa smiled as blue flames cracked up her arm.

<<<<>>>>
Lord Yn
700 Years Ago
The dark sweltering mess of bodies was lit by a thin line of blue as the door finally cracked open.

That blue soon expanded outward – from a sliver it turned to a river of aetheric flame igniting the brutish slaves desperate to be the first inside in the hopes of leaving their hellish existence for the relative peace of being a retainer or house salve. 

They screamed and thrashed as scale, skin and fur was turned to ash.

Yn simply smiled, let them waste their power on the minions, all the easier for him to finish them later.
<<<<>>>>
Eilaea

It was a graveyard…or rather a battlefield. 

Eilaea had found the first queer thing sticking up out of the ground, a metal thing with odd rings as if a banner should hang from it.  Digging around she found the innumerable bones black not just from age but fire, gnashed with blades as well, and plunging as deep as she dared to dig.

None seemed like Peoples bones…perhaps the trolls and goblin had attack the dwarves who lived in the mountain, which seemed rather stupid to her given how easily it could be repulsed…unless trolls didn’t care for their own fellows lives which made them even more repulsive…

She had never seen a dwarf or goblin herself, but the histories told around the fire at night and written in the old books at Menron’s home were unanimous in affirming their existence, and some of the armour she found was clearly not made to fit a real Person.

It was more than anyone she knew of had found, with innumerable metal buckles and rusted blades, one small dagger made of a kind of solid water she could take with her.

It had taken half a day to get this far round the mountain and after digging…she ought to turn back, gather the other Guardians to send a larger expedition.

Taking off her old leather hat she wiped the sweat from her brow, a little break then something to eat…then to sleep…but no she was too excited by the finds to sleep and it would do no good trying to force it…

Maybe just another day….

<<<<>>>>
Lord Yn
His boots sloshed in the lake of blood and bodies that had been forged from the first three waves of attackers through the doors.

Yn considered it nothing more than a trivial annoyance.  He stood silently as more slaves rushed past into the facility – the slave masters driving them on with whips and electro staffs as he stared intently to the far wall where one of the Aetharians lay dead up to the chest in blood and bodies. 

Wading through Yn grasped the helm and tore it off, using the force to keep his balance against the helmets unnatural weight.

“Human after all…” he turned to his Second Sword, this week it was a Trandoshan with a ruined face behind a metal grill mask, last weeks Second Sword had tried to kill the current First sword and died for the effort.

“Bring me the head of another of these and claim you place as First Sword!” Yn screamed – not just to the Second sword, but every knight and slave in ear shot – Such was the way of the Sith – a pure meritocracy where worth was measured in the skulls of your foes.
<<<<>>>>

Adyn
“DIE DIE DIE!” Adyn screamed slamming the Trandoshans face further into the wall with each word.

Its body sliding down he put his hands on his knees near exhausted.  He was losing count of how many he had killed…but enough to have worn out his rifle and pistols power cells…

“Add them to the pile…” he ordered the Guardians behind him rapidly hurling the bodies onto the barricades made from the dead slaves and knights. 

As they passed him he noted a nasty sabre burn in Yaran’s side, he grabbed the younger man.

“Patch that up first son…” Adyn said pushing him to the side.  They were down three men already, and still they came.  These Sith cared nothing for losses, the walls and floors were dripping in blood and viscera.  If the Technocracy fell today it would not be because the Sith were better, smarter or worthier…simply that they had millions of bodies to hurl at a whim.

For now the attacks subsided, but he could hear the hoarse screams and crackle of electro whips driving the next wave forward.  He checked his rifle, the power cell was at 60 per cent capacity, if he switched to a lower setting he would get in more shots…but risked not penetrating the hides of reptilian species. 

So far he had been loath to use the Aether, he knew the real Sith Lords were waiting, they had a trick of wearing down an opponent with slaves, then challenging them to single combat, winning easily and claiming the glory of the kill.

If it came to that…and he suspected it would so predictable were these Sith feudal lords…he wanted all his aetheric power on hand.

Deciding against using the rifle he switched to his two pistols for the time being. Aiming high to get head shots the next wave raced around the corner.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea
They were making real progress now. 

The light ash layers gave way to ruddy white dust…tons and tons of bones eroded to calcium and carbon after some kind of bombardment mingled with rusted weapons and armour.

The white ash of beings that once lived trickled between Sofa’s armoured fingers as the men kept digging.

“This…doesn’t seem right…I’m no expert but given the arid landscape, the decomposition should be…”

“Very different,” Milaea agreed

“Are there not Aetheric techniques that can turn a being to dust,” Jarys noted between shovel loads.

“Yes…,” Milaea had used them herself on occasion

“But on this scale…it can’t be the same, there is something…wrong about all this,” she reached out toward the mountain trying to get a sense of what happened in the past, her mind settling into a Flow state where time had little meaning.

There was something tippling on the edge of her sense, a spark just out of reach…was it what she needed to find, the Obelisk device…

No…she felt it now, the Call as Soryu termed it, a feeling in the Force when you realised it had guided you to there here and now for a very specific reason even if you didn’t realise it yourself.

“Keep digging…faster,” she ordered.

<<<<>>>>

Adyn
Elbow to a head.
Knife to a Chest,
Knee to a hand
Blaster fire into a back

He spun through the throngs hard and fast as he could, leaving limbs and broken bodies in his wake, but it was an ocean of flesh between him and Yaran.  They had fallen back to the third defensive line, split into two groups to hit the next advance from both sides, behind the comparative safety of shock fences and auto-turrets.

The Slaves had thrown themselves onto the fences and used the bodies of injured slaves with enough body heat to draw the turrets fire as meat shields.

Iphsa had fought them back on this side with an improvised flame thrower made from a plasma welder and a canister of cooking gas. Yaran had fired off one of the few RPG shots left, then they appeared.

In polished but blood stained armour, weapons that were damaged from use not neglect, spikes on helmets and pauldrons adorned with flayed skin and shrunken heads surrounding a figure in a scraggy cloak but solid armour bearing a sabrestaff of crackling red.

The Real Sith had arrived.

Adyn pressed against the throng trying to reach them, he could see a thin smile on the Sith Lords red skinned lips as his retainers surrounded Yaran in a circle, the younger Guardian lashing out with his sword, his fatigue showing in the ease with which the Sith Swords parried the blows with their axes and staves.

Finally Yaran realised his only chance was in beating the Sith Lord – indeed it was the only hope any of them had – if they could kill the Lord hopefully the Sith Swords would turn on each other to claim the crown and buy time for re-enforcements to arrive.

If they are even coming it had been hours and there was still no reply from Command.

Circled by Sith Yaran remained defiant, fists tightening as he drew on all the strength and aetheric prowess his Gene Generation 25 body could muster.  His eyes flared a brief blue, lighting crackled over his body in a desperate shield.

He charged.

The Sith took Yaran’s balde on his own as Adyn redoubled his efforts to get to them, slashing and bashing through slave after slave, one cowered before him pleading for mercy in some incomprehensible language translated in part by the aether. 

Adyn gave as much mercy as a Sith would.

The red sabre spun to catch the lighting Yaran pumped out yielding purple sparks that ate into the clean grey walls. 

A hand gripped Adyns back as a weary Yaran hurled more and more bolts with less and less accuracy at the sneering Sith who played it safe using the staffs reach to land opportunistic cuts

“We need to pull back!” Iphsa yelled in Adyn’s ear hurling a wave of telekinetic energy to clear the slaves that crowded him as she dragged him away.

<<<<>>>>

Eilaea
One…more…push…

The makeshift lever pressed into the gap she had found. 

She was about to head off to her small campsite when she spied the smooth wall just beneath the surface.  Excited she used the aether to hurl a long house worth of dirt away to reveal an ancient stone entrance.

Now she most certainly couldn’t’ sleep if there was even a chance of getting inside the cavern.

She’s never seen such a thing before, in the Valley all the caverns were natural, only a few had carved doorways and then only for decorative purposes.  This appeared structural and practical.

Eilaea could sense no life forms near or behind it, and knocking yielded no response, most likely it had been built by dwarves in ages long past for People to visit them given it was the right height.

Tired as she was she had never been so excited, the other Guardians had warned her she might get nothing from her travel but tired and sore, but she knew, somehow she knew it was her fate to do something important for the People, and this must be it.

Cobbling some of the ancient armour she’d welded it together with aetheric flame into a crowbar, pushing into the gap to pry the door open.  It was heavy, made of Blackstone, and old, but it was slowly giving way to her aether enhanced strength.

Finally it began to groan open, the noise lost to the empty space around her. Quickly she hurled a rock into the gap with the aether to make sure it didn’t slam shut when she relived the pressure on the crowbar.

Pushing further she felt air suck out of the cavern, the taste of it stale and old, choked with dust.  Finally with a last grunt she managed to widen the gap enough to fit.

A few more rocks to secure it, a small drink and strip of gormin jerky and she would begin her exploration.

<<<<>>>>

Something terrible had happened here.

The walls were covered in red, that when touched flaked off as dust – long since dried blood.  The floor was covered in the bone dust she had seen outside, more armour and makeshift weapons lying among them.

Lit by the glow of her lamp she walked slowly forward, a rope round her waist tied to the door so she was certain not to get lost.

She paused at a cross roads trying to feel out what had happened here by flow walking.

Shades of dozens of strange goblins and demons ran past, frantic, fearful…they knew they were going to their deaths…and yet somehow that was preferable to their lives.

Ever deeper into the square walled caves she went, following a glimmer in her senses that was brighter than the rest.  Where she could she tried to make out the phantoms around her…they were terrifying hideous things goblins, trolls and the like…but she was a Guardian, she would not be scared by their shades however much they pained her aesthetic senses…

They just seemed wrong, such creatures should not live, only the People were beautiful and well-formed like the Goddesses, these things…disgusted her beyond measure.

Finally she came upon the ‘brighter’ scene, at a cross rounds beings more hideous than any of the others surrounded a…

A man a real Man, young, bloodied face wearing armour that was being cut apart by a hideous wretched looking red skinned man who wielded a magical weapon of some kind  - it was red like a dulling fires glow but held in the shape of a flickering blade.

The young man fought back, but was already exhausted and his enemy fresh,

“We need to pull back!” came a woman’s voice behind her – more People, they were fleeing from the goblins, unable to help this young man.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 09, 2020, 02:03:48 AM
Chapter 2 — Echoes— Part 3
Lord Yn
Something tickled at the back of his spine as he toyed with the Aethan poking and teasing the boy’s weary counters.

Something…cold…something…from somewhere else was watching him.

Aware of the threat he ceased his games.  Driving in he bashed back a faltering stab and drove his sabre through the boy’s chest, glaring through his helm into the dying eyes

“NO!”

<<<<>>>>

Milaea
“NO!” the cry was not audible in the sense of a normal sound…it had rippled the air but not Now

The tension that had been building the sense of something wrong and something that needed correcting built icy and fast behind her eyes even as the men exuded heat from their excavation, now using body and aether to tear up the dust – finally they reached the long buried doorway.

She pushed past the two sweating men, legs blazing with red energy kicked it open.

<<<<>>>>

Adyn
“You heard it too?” Iphsa asked as they felt Yaran die behind them.

She spun into the control room just after him and slammed the large red panic button sealing the room, gripped the control panel and tore it off pulling the manual lock down lever to ensure it was not hacked.

“I heard it…it was a woman but…”

Iphsa nodded it was a ghostly sound…like an aetheric projection only half formed.

Adyn took a moment to steady his breathing, it was just the two of them now…the control room and behind them the ranks of archives and elevator into the deeper levels housing laboratories now cluttered with art, books…everything of their history they could evacuate in the hours between the Sith arrival in system and their making planet fall. 

He felt the presence of the Purge console behind him…as if it were the third person in the room waiting to be awakened and deny the Sith their victory in a final act of spite by destroying the accumulation of 3000 years of Aethan civilization along with devices and plans for the future of their People.

“We have no choice…” Iphsa noted sadly quickly applying a steri-strip to a cut over her eye.

“The door won’t hold for long enough…no one is coming to help us…”

She stepped toward the plex glass overlooking the top level of the archives. 

“I won’t let the Sith have it,”

Standing his full height once more, he knew what had to be done.

<<<<>>>>

Eilaea

She covered her mouth…she had yelled ‘No’ as the young man was killed by the hideous warrior…and they had heard her across the centuries.

“Spread out…find her, Fourth Sword follow the others, take the Command centre,”
“Yes Lord Yn,”

Lord Yn that was the warrior with the fire sword.

His eyes were darting seeking her out, but she pulled herself away from the past back to the present. 

Her body was shaking with worry over what she had done intervening however unintentionally in the past like that, Old Jensaea had warned her curiosity would get her in trouble…how much more trouble could there be than altering the past?

Though if it is the past…then whatever you did already happened…which means I had no choice… would have been Old Dasyns reply…

She wished she were not alone, she could use the wisdom of her aunt and uncle now.

Whoever this Lord Yn of the Goblins was she did not wish him to succeed in whatever foul plot he had…yet what could she do…

She couldn’t harm him from here that she knew of…not interact with objects…but if he could hear her…she could distract him…

Now she just needed to wait for the right time.
<<<<>>>>

Milaea

Time was rippling about her as she ran though the dust choked corridors past walls cracked with the endless weight of a mountain upon them yet still holding up defiant and persistent as the Aethan people themselves.

Her fourth level of consciousness twisted around various theories of time and its relation to the Force, that there were moments in which though separated across millennia events still happened simultaneously – the crests of a wave that retracted back on itself – each followed a different path and space yet for a brief time all moved in synchronicity as all-time happened at the same instant.

Whatever the explanation in physics she needed to be here, now, to answer the Call.  The Goddesses had sent her here for more than just finding the Obelisk in her dream, there was something else that needed to be…Corrected.

She could feel the others behind her, calling out warnings, signalling for all the others to come…Jarys was close behind her throwing a protective telekinetic bubble about her afraid the caverns would collapse, Sofa was linked to Valens who was scanning the facility for any threats…but he was looking at Now and would find none.

Nose clogged with the dust she had kicked up in her run she finally came to the nexus of the winding tension in the Aether.
<<<<>>>>
Lord Yn

Drills and hammers pounded on the doors, he could feel they were behind it…could taste the sweet loot he would soon claim. 

His Swords bashed the slaves to force them to work harder, tugged where they could with their petty Force strength at the doors.

As soon as they burst open he knew dozens would die in whatever ambush the last Aethans had lain, it mattered not.  He would have the secrets of this mountain, the powers of the Aethans, and with it the entire core would….

His eyes widened as he looked up through the mountain above him…Then rapidly shut them as the blinding energy he could not see seared at his eyes forcing him to blink away the after image of a fleet obliterated by red fire…

The Red Woman had struck at last…the fleet…HIS SHIPS….

<<<<>>>>

Adyn
They both sensed it…Aethena’s unmistakable power unleashed to a scale beyond what they could have ever imagine.

The dull green radar that had since the invasion been cluttered with blobs indicating the vast number of Sith ships turned black and empty devoid of any active signals.

“She’s done it…” Iphsa smiled
“She’s beaten the Sith!”

Adyn shook his head, the burst was too much and there was an aftertaste of decay…

“She’s destroyed their fleet…but killed herself in the process…”

“Even so, there’s Valance, there will be others soon we’ll be….” Through the distortion of the mass of slave outside she tried to sense the others….

They were few…

Very few…

And there were still thousands of Sith around their mountain.

Any hope she had died as she turned to the Purge controls.  Adyn had nothing to console her with but a nod.  It was better she do it, better a woman…

The door wrenched open.

<<<<>>>>

Screaming Whispers

(https://i.ibb.co/zf7RzcF/M-destroyer.jpg) (https://ibb.co/zf7RzcF)

Plasma flames ignited his entire field of vision covering Iphsa even as she hit the first control.

Deep rumbles sounded as the first explosions near the entrance of the cavern went off collapsing the doors and main entrances, there was still one secure exit but no other escape now.

He rolled her onto the floor under the stream of fire that melted chairs and fittings like wax, small explosions as computers and screens burst apart.

Eilaea looked as the older man frantically gripped the woman’s mouth looking for signs of life…but she was gone.

Yn felt the rumble, the shockwave of despair through his forces as they realised they were all trapped inside the mountain now.

The lights died, the air ceased moving.  Even if he had a thousand slaves in here they would be unlikely to tunnel their way out before air ran out…and that was assuming he could retain any control over them.

His Swords paused as they approached the control room…a minute moment of indecision as the more intelligent among them realised what was happening.

Like lighting his blade was on and through Fifth Sword’s back

“MOVE!” his voice hard dispelling any buds of mutiny that might be rising among them.

They obeyed – for now – he could feel the fear trickling into anger which would lash out as violence against him is he did not assert control quickly.

Scorched skin stained his fingertips as he carefully stood up over Iphsa’s body.  The plasma flame petered out from the molten doorway whose orange glow now provided the only illumination.

The first Purge sequence was enacted, the main tunnels collapsed.  Trapped the slaves now turned on each other and their masters forgetting there was still an Aethan in the control room who had just seen the last woman in his force die.

They remembered he was there only as he tore them to pieces.

The unfolding massacre of the weak and terrified goblins was almost pitiable…almost…Eilaea wished she could help this Adyn more.  In the pitch black she saw the past through Aetheric vision alone, the grimy grey aura’s shattered by Adyn’s red, even as the gross and oily Lord Yn approached.

Yet this was not all, on the spectral horizon was a burgeoning light, as if even after all that had been lost in the night of defeat here, there was a dawn.

All around there was chaos and madness, beings treated as animals acted worse than animals as they tore into each other even as Milaea stepped through them…they were already dead.

Yn’s swords slaughtered just as many slave soldiers as Adyn as he pushed through, Yn’s last hope was to capture the Aethan and extract however violently where the escape tunnel Eilaea and Milaea would find centuries later was.

Finally in the dark corridors lit by glinting blackstone that sprayed blood they finally found each other.

Milaea and Eilaea looked back as in the now Adyn fought viciously, ducking under the hooked chains to drive his sword through a chest – it stuck and he abandoned it after one attempt to pull it, hurling a flare of lightning into the next Sith Sword, the screech filling the room as the pure energy melted the durasteel mask on its face.

Yn’s sabre lit the melee a furious red as he struck aiming to sever limbs – he only needed the head intact. 

Adyn didn’t care any second now the second Purge system would…

No… In the back of his mind, his third level of thought his sense of time realised it had been too long, the neutrino pulse should’ve activated by now killing them and triggering the final detention sequences…the console must’ve been damaged when Iphsa was struck….

Yn felt his disappointment, his terror…yes his enemy would lose and he would rise.

A deft sweep forward and low spin and he cut through Adyn’s right knee, the pad long since lost to the battle.

The pin burned through him, Adyn was only gene generation 21, he still felt pain as a visceral sensation if it was extreme enough rather than mere data as more advanced Aethans did. 

It was all the opening Yn needed to move in tighter and sever a hand, then grasp him by the skull ever so gently pushing the tip of his blade into his chest, hissing through the chest plate not quite deep enough to reach major organs.

“Where is it!” Yn hissed

Adyn spat blood into his eye.

“WHERE!” Yn pressed with all the strength he alone could muster, turning frustration into anger, anger into hate, hate into power

“There is no escape Sith filth…you die here with me…”

Already Yn could feel his laboured breathing, the air was rapidly stale, there were too many beings still alive and no more ventilation.

“WHERE!” he pressed once more

“DIE creature!” Eilaea cried and she knelt behind Adyn, cradling him as best she could through the centuries that divided them, pouring out some power to push back against Yn, it was draining but she would help her ancestor all she could.

His vision starting to cloud, his body gasping for oxygen Yn saw the woman…not in the here and now but…

That is…my escape

Through the spear he had thrust into Adyn’s head he followed it into Eilaea, pushing himself into her mind…if Yn could not survive in the here and now…he could take this woman’s body in the future.

Eilaea thought she was helping…but she wasn’t…she was…creating a bridge for the evil creature to escape….if it controlled her, escaped into her present…

Adyn realised the same, he had only four levels of consciousness against Eilaea’s six but spared one to share with her what was in the Mountain vaults…the danger it posed if Yn should obtain it.

Yn could feel them joining pressing him back, he needed more power.

He would take it.

Without restraint, without regret he took it, pulling in every dreg of energy around him in a massive Life Drain powered by instinctual need to survive.  The slaves croaking and dying withered like leaves in bitter summer heat as their life force poured into Yn, first those on the floor about him turned to dust, then others in the mountain and wounded just outside.

Bodies flaked and cracked as their souls powered the Inferno of a temporal distortion.

Even together Eilaea and Adyn could not resist the combined power of thousands of sacrificial victims…and now the link wasn’t hers, it was Yn’s to open and close at his whim.

“Errnnng!!! GODDESS HELP ME!” she cried

Milaea heard her.

This was why she had been called here.

It was as if they were all in the room together in the Now as she stepped forward, grasping Eilaea’s shoulders even as she cradled Adyn in turn – three generations of Aethans united across centuries to protect their People.

A sea of energy flooded back through Adyn’s body, too much too handle he began to glow and flake away even as Yn’s over exertion had the same effect.

Eilaea felt the power of the Goddesses buoy her back up and strike at her opponent. 

More bodies tuned to vapour as Yn spent all the energy he could consume to push himself into the future, he had come this far, from a wretched orphan, to a warrior to a lord following the way of the Sith, his Will would not be broken, he was a survivor.

But so were the Aethans he faced.  Each knew the other was not quite like them, Adyn could sense none of the Technocracies…refinement in these two women, instead a touch of primal ferocity that was strangely alluring. 

Eilaea knew the Goddess helping her was like her, but different, there was a compassion for things beyond the People there she could not understand, and…a strange sadness that something even more than People’s lives in the time of Adyn would be lost.

Carbon dioxide was reaching critical levels, their bodies were wretched with excess power…Yn’s face trembled and shook as the skin sloughed off the skull cracking just like so many slaves and Swords he had drained to power himself.

Milaea stood firm even as her body trembled, Sofa and Jarys arriving to see her hunched over burning like a crimson flame, neither knowing what to do.

Adyn could hold no longer, all but dead his body long since incapable of holding life….

But his task was fulfilled, the Sith would not claim the archives or the Obelisks, and before him was a future that proved the Aethans were not destroyed by the Sith…changed…but they survived – a consolation as he faded into the dark.

Aethans Dominabutir Astris his mind whispered across the years.

Adyn’s body slouching down its Force presence lost, the tenuous grasp Yn held across the centuries was weak as his trembling haggard limbs that ate themselves with Force exertion.

Eilaea could hold no longer…she was the nexus between an overpowered Sith Lord 300 years before her time, and the Goddesses 400 years after – the flux of energy though her body was too much. 

But her task was fulfilled…she had stopped Lord Yn, and somehow she had created an important bridge between her ancestors, and her descendants.  It pained her that she would never be able to share all she had learned this day with the others of her own time.

She had protected her People in the past, present and Future, for a Guardian, though life was preferable, it was the best reason to give her life.

Grief that welled in her eyes was burnt off by anger of the sith that had caused this chaos.  The tears evaporated on her cheeks as Milaea pushed through poor Eilaea one final time, the bridge over the years shattering in its wake as it stuck Lord Yn’s mind.

As a rock through a glass statue Yn’s body already fragile shattered to carbon, Eilaea fell and the tunnel through time died between them.

<<<<>>>

Her cheeks were on fire, sizzling the water Sofa dripped on them to wake her

Beside Milaea were two bodies, one a dry air mummified woman in traditional leathers of an old Guardian, the other a battered skeleton in Technocracy armour decayed beyond usefulness.

And near that rusted horned armour encasing a skull the jaw twisted in an eternal scream of defeat.

They did what they needed to suppress Milaea’s energy – as so often was the case her greatest danger was not in being drained of power, but consumed by an excess of it.

The others arrived just as her breathing returned to normal.

<<<<>>>

“…she was also curious, seeking to travel to the very limits of the ashen wastes for knowledge of the past, making it further than any before her till the Devastation.
She protected the People, past, present and Future in the final moments she had,”

Milaea paused to place a hand on the head, covered by pure white cloth Eilaea’s body was laid out ready for burial in the deep caverns of the Valley, beside her would be placed Adyn and the other Technocracy Guardians bodies found on Mount Alixaea…Lord Yn’s body would be dissected, analysed, samples frozen…then the excess sent into the sun.

The others holding small candles lit blue with aetheric fire blew them out as one to signal the end of the funeral.

Milaea herself carried the body to the alcove carved into the Bloodstone, carefully placing the totems on Eilaea’s breast and in her hands, neatly laying her weapons – reforged and repaired – beside her before lifting and putting the ornately carved Blackstone seal in place.

It depicted what they knew of Eilaea’s life, her exploration to the Mountain, her love of writing – they had found a bag by her body with three small journals and various scrolls all in her hand – and her final battle as the key between past and future to defeat the last Sith on Aethas.

Jarys and Sofa guided her out on still slightly trembling feet even three days after the fight, while Valens and Kiraea, after brief but warm condolences headed back to the Mountain.
 
<<<<>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 09, 2020, 02:08:56 AM
Chapter 2 — Echoes — Epilogue

It would’ve seemed an eerie parallel to the sights of the funeral that dusk to a species not so task focused as the Aethans.

Three enormous lengths covered by funeral white shrouds lay in the vast chamber of the deepest laboratory of Mount Alixaea, the ancient lights flickering with the generator they had attached.

Overall the facility was too damaged by time to be repaired in the short term, they would simply have to remove all the valuable artefacts and Archive-Orbs…but one day it could be rebuilt.

Tugging the end of the nearest of the shrouds they pulled it off in one swift motion filling the stagnant air with dust.

With a flick of his fingers, tuned to memories of another life Valens activated the secret switches to power the consoles and screens about the three objects, the generator easily feeding them through a network of resistors and capacitors to account for 700 years of technological advancement and differing voltage requirements.

Blue and white schematics, charts and test results covered the dozens of displays, Kiraea’s eyes flicked between them taking in the information rapidly through four conscious levels, the other two integrating that knowledge with their existing strategic goals.

“These devices…” Kiraea spoke softly but in the cavernous room every sound was amplified

Aethans Dominabutir Astris” Valens surmised...

<<<<>>>

Despite the darkness of a cloudy night on Aethas, absent any artificial illumination, she could see perfectly down the valley to where the mountains formed a natural corner further into the plains where the large farms were…

Or rather would be in time.

Ever since the events at Mount Alixaea a series of half coherent thoughts had tickled at Milaea’s mind…she had felt Eilaea so strongly across nearly three hundred years…strong enough to the point that she felt she could almost pull her into her own time.

Of course such a thing seemed impossible…but then so did rewriting DNA with the Aether, or reviving the recently dead – both of which she could do.

Flicking up a piece of Blood stone, coarse and only recently hewn from a vein in the mountains as Mount Aelia was increasingly hollowed to serve as their fortress, Milaea wondered….

The Blackstone altar had once held Aethena’s memories and power for 700 years…it had been, however imperfectly, infused into her by Valens when she was an infant for her own protection…Blackstone was less absorbent of the aether than bloodstone, and 700 years was a long time, Aethena could never have been perfectly revived…

But what is instead of Blackstone, Bloodstone was used…and what if instead of centuries the gap was only decades…

Could she draw in the aetheric presence of someone from the past into a blood stone orb in the present…

And once it was in the orb, then like the altar, could she transfer that presence into a body as Aethena’s memories and power had been transferred to her?

If she could work out a way to enchant the orb correctly, to create a strong enough bond across space time, determine a way to pull an essence totally through…

Of course that risked a paradox, and she knew from experience the Force baulked at that…she had tried to save her mothers life by forcing time to bend to her will on Nar Shadda, but it would not relent…she could only bring through someone at the moment of their ‘death’ to avoid such a paradox…

And even then only someone with a strong aetheric ability or who had created an anchor in their own time for her to fix on…

It would be difficult, complex beyond even her six levels of savant like genius thought to get correct, and even beyond her extreme aetheric powers to do…but with time…with planning…with help

"I could resurrect anyone…” she whispered into the silence of the night.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 22, 2020, 03:43:19 AM
OK, I am christening LSG our resident Master of Temporal Authorship  ;D

Wow, this battle across time was AWESOME!  I love how multilayered this chapter was, from the Collapse to the interim and finally the "present," we see a facet of Aethan Force abilities that was previously hinted at (***shameful plug***) in Schisms but here is fully developed.  Also: I love the character arc that Milaea is engaged in; certainly hints of greater things to come...

OK, Lord Yn (and his Swords) gave a nice look at the contemporary Sith of the time.  This is a character that I would like to hear more about (too bad...).  And it also shows us (at least a bit) just WHY the Technocracy succumbed and the resultant Collapse occurred.  I really hope that we get to learn more about these disparate periods as well as the "present" timeline  ;)

I love that you're fleshing out the Aethan culture, LSG.  ESPECIALLY with the differing timelines as a literary device; just SO much potential...

Looking forward to more!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 23, 2020, 09:33:40 PM
Chapter 3 — The Black Obelisk — Part 1

(https://i.ibb.co/S5phs66/Obelisk.jpg) (https://ibb.co/S5phs66)

The dripping was slightly bizarre for the fact it made no sound in the airless corridor. 

Sofa was uncertain at how safe a 700 plus year old abandoned facility could be – and dripping cracked walls only added to her doubts.

“It’ll be fine…” Milaea comforted just behind her, her blood red armour a stark contrast to the grimy black and grey walls.

While Milaea had fought a long…half dead….or dead in waiting – such were the enigma’s of temporal combat...Sith Lord under Mount Alixaea Maeson and Melron had followed Milaea’s earlier vision performed a deep aetheric scan on Aeda that held a Trinitarian orbit with the other micro planets Varas and Alina.

What they found was more than a little surprising….

Pushing back ancient cables she came into the vast main chamber of the underground facility.

Aeda was only just large enough to be considered a planet proper with a diameter of 5,000 or so KM and made of mainly the ultradense greysleet, better known to the galaxy as Phirk, giving it mass to keep the other two micro planets in an almost unnaturally defensive orbit around it and maintain a roughly spherical shape.

Overall there was something very deliberate about its position and orbit that stank of Technocracy design.

It had a curious outer covering of frozen helium and nitrogen that had obscured the surface entrance of the ancient Technocracy facility, it appeared the liquid partially melted at Perihelion and solar winds pushed it around like water giving the planet a surface that reminded Sofa of an oil painting of a dark grey rough sea frozen in time.

And deep beneath this ocean was a carefully carved facility of ring tunnels and rooms leading to the main chamber.

The walls were still the natural Phirk of the planet intermittently held up with metal supports, the ceiling 60 metres up was a nonagon receding into a point.  Following down each vertices from the ceiling were lines of pure bloodstone to vast square hollows that went a few metres into the ground. 

Of these nine hollows only one was occupied.

A towering 50 metre high Blackstone Obelisk stood in it, dominating the room despite only occupying one of nine corners.  Before it in the centre of the room were nine pedestals, one for each would be Obelisk, on an each pedestal nine hollows for Orbs making 81 in total – although all of these were empty.

“What the Frell…how did they get that in here!” Sofa exclaimed

“I hope the roof retracts…” Milaea noted wandering toward the huge object. 

One Obelisk alone was an intimidating site, a single vast piece of Blackstone jutting from the ground into a tip just below the roof – the bulk of the ultra dense material had a gravitational draw on her – she could only imagine what this place would be like if the other eight Obelisks were in place.

“And if it doesn’t retract?” Sofa queried till her own quick Aethan mind filled in the gap…

“Frell…to teleport something that size and mass…”

“Do we know what it was for…” Milaea inquired coming up behind Adaea who was inspecting the circuitry beneath one of the floor panels

“Hmmm we found some notes in the other rooms, they confirm what you found under the mountain it was a kind of surveillance device, but it was never finished…another Remnant”

Milaea could not recall such a thing from Aethena’s memories…but it wouldn’t surprise her if one of the Technocracies Directories had worked on it in secret to avoid any possible leaking to the Sith of that era as they closed in.

At any rate the Goddesses had lead her here and that was all that mattered.

She stepped up to the towering Obelisk that seemed poised to collapse down onto her, undaunted she ran her hand over the smooth light eating stone face…closing her eyes she felt the aether tugged away from her – not in a consuming way…but a subtle yet strong…

“It’s an aerial…a massive Aether aerial…” Milaea looked about the room once more the positioning of everything making sense suddenly…

“Nine huge aerials to pick up the aether from…from…” her mind rapidly performed eldritch calculations based on the density of the blackstone multiplied by nine – no exponential…but of course it would also be ‘enchanted’ to enhance its ability to draw in more information…the calculus strained across four levels of her consciousness to calculate…even that wasn’t enough…she added her fifth and sixth

the Scale of this…

“It could detect aetheric signals from here to the Colonies…possibly further…”

“Exactly…” Adaea went on closing the hatch and wandering to one of the empty pedestals

“I think this was used to filter and clean the signals…remove background aetheric emanations and natural pulses…”

“They could’ve seen everything…heard everything nearby…the Sith would’ve lost every advantage they had…” Milaea finished as Sofa came up beside her
“..if they had time to finish it…”

“Explain something to me…” Sofa stared up at the vast black monolith her fourth stream of consciousness curious as to why the Matriarchal technocracy would make something which such obvious potential phallic symbolism…but that wasn’t her main query.

“If the technocracy had tech and Aether devices like this, an army of Superhumans and Valance and Aethena…how could a few Sith warlords possibly defeat them?”

“Weight of numbers…” Milaea answered

“Even at its height the Technocracy never had a population of much more than 500,000, they believed too much in quality over quantity…” Milaea knelt by one of the empty pedestals running her hand over it sensing the internal blackstone ‘wires’

“…and even then most of the population was only Gene-generation 19 or 20…four levels of consciousness, 2.5 times human strength and speed….They were rolling out the upgrades, but by the time the Sith found Aethas only the Elite Guardian corps had been made Generation 30 like Aethena and Valance who were the prototypes…”

“Well transition isn’t easy…” Sofa noted form personal experience

Milaea nodded

“The difference between generation 20 and 30 was large and dangerous to attempt, and the difference…gen 19 and 20 were powerful, but still only able to take down two maybe three Sith Knights…”

Sofa did the sums, coming in fresh Jarys could wipe at least eight regular present day Jedi off the map before slowing down, two or three masters at once - but could still find an equal in the grizzled Wookie Sentinel Yshrrk.

“And I’m guessing the Sith weren’t shy about sacrificing their soldiers either…” Sofa added truing over a curious looking remote control like device in her hand

“Even the lesser warlords had slave armies in the millions, crammed into huge dreadnoughts they’d dump them on a planet like a plague of insects, raping and killing – they’d die by their thousands, but eventually they’d drown everything.”

“They didn’t fight back against their masters?”

“All the time…” Valens chimed in between taking notes on the Obelisk

“That is the Sith way, the strong and ambitious rise up, the weak and ambitious bide their time…even the most deranged creature dreamed of being a Sith Lord – some succeeded – illiterate mentally unstable maniacs addicted to combat stimms who rose from the hordes to the Vanguards, then the Knights…mostly by killing their immediate superiors…the Technocracy in their pride underestimated some of those self-made Lords…”

“Ugly times…”Sofa concluded

“Still are…” Milaea mused

“But what are we going to do with this…” she redirected the conversation to the Obelisk

“Finish it…” The more she thought about the device the more possibilities filled her mind…

Even as a passive scanning system it would give us tremendous power and knowledge…if it could be weaponised…used as a long range aetheric ‘cannon’….

She didn’t want to think that far ahead, what would be would be, it wasn’t her responsibility to control what other People did with it.

“I don’t think we have the resources to do so…” Valens slid behind her and Sofa

“We have, of course the three unfinished Obelisks under Mount Alixaea…but we need to know more how to program them, we have no filtering orbs, the listening chambers here are unfinished…”

He paused as the enormity of the challenge filled his mind

“To mine five more obelisks like that…program them…then develop an interface and screening system…it would take all of us years working together night and day...”

“The Technocracy didn’t leave an instruction manual?” Sofa queried

“Mount Alixaea has the schematics and overall theory and planning…” Adaea answered

“but there are notes throughout  showing where they hit road blocks…it seems like they hadn’t finished ironing out all the issues before they started building…the aetheric and scientific theory is sound but the aetheric and physical engineering and architecture still has some gaps.”

She pulled up from the circuits and popped her notation orb into a small slot beside six others on her belt.

 “…but I think there is a better use for now…if it can be activated to start receiving signals I think we can tune it to only pick up very specific aetheric signals…key emotions, phrases, aetheric flow patterns…”

Songs….” Milaea whispered

“That is a good way of describing it…yes we could tune it to People’s ‘Song!” Adaea said exuberantly ignorant of the solemn import of Milaea’s term 

The potential clicked in Sofa’s head
“A way to detect any other People…any other survivors out there…”

“It wouldn’t be precise…but it is better than nothing…” Valens said deflating the optimism with the reality

Milaea stepped toward the Obelisk…

This is something I can do…something I can help with…something peaceful…restorative….Healing but then the next thought hit her back down

But what if we don’t find anyone out there after 20 years…or what if…not it is certain they’ll have been treated as badly as Lydan and Kassyndra…what will they do to rescue other People they find…They attacked the Jedi Temple itself when they felt I was hostage there…killed thousands to get the clones off Xithar…

Valens sensed her disquiet and shifted toward Sofa, Milaea would be more receptive of his intent if she knew it was filtered through Sofa to whom Milaea knew Valens could never lie nor manipulate.

<We’ll be more subtle…we have to be…> he thought across to Sofa

<How often does that work out?> Sofa replied gently sliding her hand back to take his to strengthen the connection

<Not as often as we’d like I know…but we have to try…none of us want the Jedi or Sith to realise we still exist…especially not with devices like this and the new Destroyers being built….>

<Arms race much Valens…> Sofa sighed mentally <Alright, I understand…>

She reached out to Milaea placing her hand on her shoulder

“It’ll be OK, we’ll be as subtle as possible….you can take the lead if you like?”

Milaea nodded, she could trust Valens wouldn’t actively disobey Sofa…it wasn’t that she didn’t trust, even love Valens like a brother…but she knew how he and Kiraea went about things…
 
Milaea didn’t want the responsibility of leadership alone, she wanted a collaborative decision making process…but Jarys could hardly be expected to side against his brother and mate, Selaena and Lyaea sided with Kiraea more often than not, Adaea was indifferent to moral issues, Maeson and Melron more concerned about restoring the farms. 

Only Sofa and Milaea ever tended to disagree with them, but their vote not strong enough to win…at least Sofa seemed to be able to soften Valens sharper edges.

Sofa could feel Milaea’s disquiet…Milaea could lead them if she wanted…but she didn’t…wouldn’t’ take that burden on…as if the discomfort of following someone you don’t agree with was preferable to the pain of being responsible for making the wrong choice herself.

Disliking the anxious air in the aether Adaea focused on the task at hand

“Well Mili and I will get to work on it…but there is the issue that we’d need a strong signal I think, or at least an…hmm…intentional bit of ‘singing’ our Peoples song for us to hear…after all they could be very far away…”

Valens nodded

“Any survivors might be afraid to reveal themselves, unwilling to use the aether for fear of the Jedi…or worse…we’d need a way to tell them it’s…relatively safe to reconnect….”

“But if you can tell them that then you should already be able to find them without this…” Sofa pointed up at the Obelisk, she paused for a moment as the others remained quiet.

“…oh…sorry third level cognisance thinking…” she said sheepishly at her own silliness, broadcasting a message to a vast audience was one thing, but if the survivors were still enslaved the chance of replying via conventional means was slim at best.

“It’s ok Sof you’ll get used to it…” Mili comforted at her simplistic thinking, she was gradually adapting to higher level cognition the other People used but still slipped into linear human thought occasionally.

“…Valens is right…we need to broadcast something across the galaxy that we are here and now able to help them…we have the ships, credits manpower and freedom to act we didn’t have even a year ago…”

Milaea’s words were full of conviction, despite herself she couldn’t help but speak as a leader sometimes.

“Once the first Obelisk is ready…We need to advertise.”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 01, 2020, 11:33:36 AM
Remnant — I — Awakening

Authors Note: Remnant sections occur outside of the main 'Chapter' sequence and main story arcs (for now...) and follow each other in sequence from The Remnant Prologue

Now

The vulgarity filled hubbub of the reeking tavern was broken by the woosh of a body flying from the creaking double doors into the filth caked bottles behind the bar.

Such was the force of the impact that the body split open in several places in addition to where the glass had lodged into the body.

Eyes and other electromagnetic radiation sensory organs turned to the door where they were met with the absence of anything with which to fix their attention upon.

Three towering pillars of absent light drew them in by weight of mass as the middle one spoke in ancient clipped tones too fast for them to understand.

“Y Fyrst une taea reveal what hath traeanspired shaeall Dyye paeanlessly,”

<<<<>>>>

5 Days Earlier

The muggy haze of Cryo-disorientation and hibernation sickness was lanced away by the rapid surge of Aertemisin from adrenal glands lit by furious sparks of neural activity as long dormant minds awoke.

Situational Analysis began immediately.

Excluding the Cryo tubes interior glowing with sprays of energy to artificially reset circadian rhythms, lighting was minimal.  Atmosphere was depleted and thin, what particles did reach olfactory senses indicated a mix of silicone dust, oxidized iron and micro fragments of Blackstone and Greysleet.

Audible data was limited to sub vibrations given the lack of gas to carry waves.  Thermal and mass senses detected only two objects in the surrounding area containing radiant heat at variance with the immediate surrounds. Their profiles were not consistent with any Gene Generation metabolism, at rest or under stress.

Aetheric senses detected the same two as anomalous.

Containment followed.

The miner and his grandson were slammed and dragged along the floor by invisible weights as shadow giants stepped out of the pods whose blue glow was gradually dimmed.

“Maker, Asha, Bogan, Quetzene, Father, Tao-Kin save us!” the old man cried as two enormous feet appeared before him, his grandson frozen in terror.

His body was lifted like a feather on the breeze.

Situational Analysis continued by scouting the immediate vicinity.

The Miner and his grandson could see nothing but lightning clouds of shadow.  Even had there been enough light for their primitive visual sensors they’d have seen nothing more.

Bodies large and firm moved faster than the miners eyes could even track in the dim glow of the deep core stars that filtered through to this inner chamber. 

Every motion was calculated, precise – the essential amount of energy expended and nothing more.  There was nothing random or wasted in the lifting of any pieces of rubble, the prying of any meter boxes or power conduits, each glide of their fingers was mathematically perfect to achieve the objective with minimal required effort.

<First, Second and Eighth are compromised> Fifth communicated via their telepathic link – terse efficient wording encoded in a sub-conscious battle cipher known only to what had been Nine of them.

<Western wing has caved in, sonic aetheric detection indicates complete collapse not partial> Sixth added as he swept across the chamber walls

<Eastern Wing armour partially intact> Third reported <Aegis Armour Seven Units, Black-Shatter-Swords eight Units functional aetheric energy depleted, Gauss rifles – 6 Units functional, battery depleted, Las-Pistol five units functional, battery depleted.>

<Generators offline, kinetic damage and erosion, pods were powered by geothermal emergency supplies> Fifth’s assessment of the main laboratory continued as Fourth and Seventh went into the control rooms.

<Extensive damage and erosion to all facility assets, battery power on all consoles depleted>

They moved swiftly, in the course of 30 standard seconds they had checked every console and powered device in the facility, their senses lowly returning to optimal.

The two miners remained limp before the one being that was not shifting like a wraith between objects in what was to their petty mortal eyes an incomprehensible dance of ghosts and demons.

<Outer wall breach, meteorite impact, sedimentary build-up on flooring of 6mm lunar dust…estimated time to accumulate based on average lunar sedimentary dispersal pattern… five to eight hundred standard years> Fourth surmised.

The young man began to make out more of the figure before him as his eyes adjusted…it was a giant of some kind…but a human looking one…a woman in fact but muscular as a Yinchorri and taller than a Wookie.

<All memory drives are corrupted or damaged beyond recovery, positional data will have been lost with the ships in hangar.> Fourth finished

<Communications black box located> Seventh began

<Orb power depleted, infusing> there followed a pause filled with light blue sparks as he re-energised the long latent device.

<Data is corrupted, final recorded message is reconstructed as follows, “Aethas Under Siege, All Units return Aethans Dominabutir Astris”>

The information compiled across their telepathic link, utilising the resources of their joint seventh conscious level to deduce which scenarios best fit their observations.

Their last orders were to return to Aethas…they were centuries too late.

Protocols learned by direct memory implantation via their enhanced Aethenaea cortex scrolled to the next objectives now that the immediate situation was assessed - Secure weapons and transportation – contact Technocracy Command – if contact could not be made default Orders of Purgatio Astra remained.

Ninth stared at the two humanoid beings cowering before her, one in a state of psychological freeze response, the other muttering incantations to false deities.

The grandson’s eyes widened as she lifted him close to her. 

She was the most beautifully terrifying thing he had ever seen, a face without blemish or error of nature…but large...too large…like a God had tried to take human form but could only fit their divine enormity into a frame 3 metres tall at the smallest.

<Tell us what has transpired here and you will die quickly>

<<<<>>>>

Now


(https://i.ibb.co/ByxChDN/REmanant-4.png) (https://ibb.co/ByxChDN)

The already filthy and unkempt streets of Mamzer Station - the last stop on a dead end route through the deep core frequented by the half sane miners and wretched denizens after whom the place was named ‘bastard’ in the old Rakkata tongue – were painted with the bodies of those who had proved of no use.

Most were completely dead, haemorrhages from blunt mental penetration shattering already fragile sanity beyond what haggard underfed bodies could cope with.

Others simply lolled with lifeless rolling eyes dribbling out spittle that mixed with blood coming from their noses that would slowly kill them as it became infected by the ever present groz fleas.

Among the dead was an old miner and his grandson.  They too had proved of no use apart from supplying what could only charitably be called a space ship and the navigational knowledge to reach this local ‘hub’.

The elimination had been carried out with cold calculation at the same time as they scrounged for anything of use.

The denizens of this place were uneducated yokels, their electronic devices full of lurid erotic holo picts and scrawled half legible sentences tracking gambling debts and tips on how to navigate the impenetrable labyrinth of the deep core.

Ninth’s Aegis armour sat heavily upon her, fortunately they had found seven suits in tact…given only six of their original nine survived it was enough…but still reminded her of the loss. 

The armours thin rear batteries were long since depleted and so far they could find no easily compatible technologies to recharge them, leaving many of the armours best capabilities inactive. It increased the time it took to search.

<I have located a…more capable…vessel> Fifth briefed <along with navigation data that may be sufficient to locate if not Aethas then at least Byss>

Ninth’s jaw shifted with a rare display of annoyance.  The exact co-ordinates of the Aethas system were kept on specially designed Way Finders Orbs aboard Technocracy ships, units in the field deleted their own memories to ensure if they were captured by the Sith the location could not be extracted by aetheric delving.

The only wayfinders they had were crushed beneath the rock of the moon their facility was located upon, turned to dust in the time that had passed.  By their more revised estimates it had been approximately 750 to 800 years since they had entered their last cryo sequence till now. 

They had no Communication Orbs of sufficient power to try and contact the Technocracy, only their armours inbuilt ones which had a range of half a medium sized planet at best.  They would need more virgin blackstone to craft one.

And even then…there may not be a Technocracy to contact

<Our search is complete> Fourth reported
 
<We have obtained limited quantities of valuable minerals, but these primitives possessed no detailed written accounts of recent or comparatively historical events>

Even mind scouring the creatures had been a waste, none seemed to have any knowledge of Aethas or the Sith System Lords of the deep core. The former was welcome, the latter troubling.

If the Sith did not rule here who did…and what had become of them?

<Prepare the vessel as best you can we leave for Byss in six hours>

Whoever ruled Byss, whatever had become of the Technocracy their critical objective remained.

Purgatio Astra

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on April 01, 2020, 05:00:52 PM
Wow...   I caught up.   

As Dutch said, the time-spanning battle was pretty cool.   Its also nice to finally get a picture of just what happened to the Technocracy, and further glimpses of how the Remnant rebuilt.  The Aether antenna is ... well.  Scary. 

The last bit, the Remnant entry...   I think there are other survivors...   :-)   That could be an interesting contrast.

And if Millie really DOES start bringing dead Aethans back from the past...

Well.

So much potential.  I am very interested to see where this ends up.   :-)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2020, 04:50:21 AM
Chapter 4 — Where the Heart Is — Healing — Part 1
Milaea
(https://i.ibb.co/mHc3zhx/MR-7.jpg) (https://ibb.co/mHc3zhx)
She swallowed hard as she entered the clean white room. The door behind her shut out the sound of the drills boring deeper into Mount Aelia – while the first floors had been fitted out there was still much to do to turn the mountain in the north eastern corner of the Valley into a proper fortress. 

As important as her work with the Obelisk was, she didn’t want to burn out working on just the one thing and this was just as important if not more so.

Valens and Sofa had taken over from Milaea and Adaea working on the Obelisks filtering systems for the next few weeks…she wondered how the couple would cope working so tightly together on such complex aetheric systems…

She forced herself back to the task at hand.

In the quiet white walled room, cold Chiss medical equipment lining the walls her Grandmother lay under a thin sheet, heavy totem on her breast keeping her unconscious as drips fed in nutrients.

There was something haunting about Kassyndra’s unconscious features that made Milaea dread coming here despite her promise to heal her. 

Most obvious was the eyeless sockets that sat darkened in the shadow of her brow – the punishment of a slave master for trying to escape, it made Milaea feel like doing some very un-Jedi like things. 

It was also a haunting irony in that it made Kassyndra look much like a Miraluka -one of the two known progenitor species of the Aethans themselves - though genetic engineering and selective breeding left ‘modern’ Aethans no more closely related to Miraluka than a Human was to a Mythosaur.

How far we are from our ancestors…yet still look the same

Yet once more she was avoiding her main cause for disquiet.

Even for all the mutilation…Kassyndra still looked like Milaea.  All Aethans had a similar ‘look’ with such a small genetically engineered population it was inevitable, the Extolled and Sons could only tell the women apart based on their different hair styles – within the People the differences were obvious – but so were the similarities –and it was painfully clear Milaea and Kassyndra  were closely related. 

The set of her cheeks and chin were the same, the same as the one person that connected them and was not there…

How far I am from my grandmother…yet still look the same

Cilina…Kassyndra’s daughter and Milaea’s mother.  She had been killed before Milaea could even speak…yet still Milaea could remember her voice…her presence in a way she couldn’t articulate.  It was that similarity that now struck her so hard.

What will she think…being awoken only to learn her daughters are gone…would she even want to be…should she be left to slip away…what will she think of me

It was impossible for her to separate what should be a professional task of healing from the personal implications of who was being healed…to divide the ‘now’ from the ‘then’ neatly enough to focus on what she had to do.

Milaea closed her eyes before the pressures became too much, emptying out the worries by filling herself with compassion for the wounded as Soryu taught her…a compassion that didn’t concern itself with who needed help only that they did.

The process wasn’t overly difficult, Kassyndra had been given a steady supply of raw nutrients through the intravenous drips, and Aethan biology featured an impressive ability to regrow anything that was missing, Milaea merely needed to kick-start the process, and then use the aether to accelerate it.

Still it was not going to be an especially neat process.  She lay her hand over the ‘healing’ totem on Kassyndra’s breast, the heavy carved object exuding the power of Kiraea’s incapacitating aether enchantment…Milaea wanted to be sure it was powerful enough to prevent Kassyndra from waking up.

Feeling out the ‘programming’ Milaea re-enforced the ‘enchantment’ of the bloodstone totem while strengthening its aim on Kassyndra’s mind. 

The anaesthetic power was significant but like other ‘enchanted technology’ needed to be personalised before it would work properly – much to Valens and Kiraea’s displeasure they hadn’t figured out a way to make a large scale incapacitating Enchanted weapon…

Yet…they’ll find a way eventually…perhaps I should help him…better to knock Outsider’s unconscious by the dozen than simply destroy them…

She pushed the thought aside as the suppressive aetheric field reached its peak, the blood stone back to near capacity with aetheric charge.

Confident Kassyndra would remain under Milaea began the painful work of removing the scar tissue on her eyes, her scalpel working with all the speed and precision that her genehanced fingers could yield.  Beside her the medi-scanner simply confirmed what her far more accurate eye sight could already discern as she cut in a little deeper to re-wound the nerves and veins past where the scarring had sealed them off. 

By creating new incisions it would stimulate regeneration much like pruning a plant. 

Now Mialea added her own power, body sheathed in a red glow she poured it into Kassyndra to boost her recovery as the nutrient bags slowly drained as Kassyndras twelve chambered heart began to squeeze faster to push the additional proteins to the site of the damage. 

Milaea worked internally slowing blood flow to Kassyndra’s legs and arms to sustenance levels only to maximize the resources being put into the eyes even as she began scraping out small pieces of dead tissue in-between the tendrils of new growth musculature forming in the eye sockets. 

The regrowth was not an appealing process to watch, but it had to be carefully tracked.  Most disconcerting was as the eyes slowly reformed how they stared blankly up toward her…Milaea knew she was unconscious but still it came as a relief when the eye lids were finally healed sufficiently to close over.

By the time she finished there was a moderate sheen of sweat…or rather the Aethan equivalent thereof which was more liquid insulation and could be expressed in response to heat or cold…on her brow.  She rechecked the totem and ran diagnostics using the scanners, the technology once more merely confirming what she could sense.

As Kassyndra’s body settled down Milaea felt only more nervous, healing her physically was the easy part…

Awakening her….

<<<<>>>>

If there was one thing the Masters Milaea had at the Temple insisted on it was not using Force for trivial tasks such as cleaning up a long since abandoned house.

Aethans were more pragmatic – so long as you could do something the ‘normal’ way just as well, using the aether was fine – for a race of purely force sensitives they did not take their abilities for granted, manual skills were just as highly prized as aetheric, to neglect one for the other was foolish.

After considering her options Milaea had decided the best place to awaken Kassyndra would be in her former home.

Empty for the last twenty years the solid wood long house was still in reasonable condition situated with the other houses of the Mountain Village on a relatively verdant plateau overlooking the end of the Valley a short walk from the Waterfalls. 

She brushed her hand along the earthy dust atop a hide bound satchel by the door way, a ‘C’ embroidered carefully upon it…Milaea knew what that meant…who it belonged to….

A gust of cool wind caught her off guard as Jarys entered, her biological father having insisted on helping her.

“The walls are still strong, I’ve cleared off the plants growing in the creases and resealed them, the roof…” he paused noting what she was touching, a sadness crossing his face.  Pausing he stepped slowly toward her.

“That…was your mothers…after getting married we were to come here, I’d collect up all her things and then we’d go back to my family’s farm…looks like she already packed…”

The tenderness in his voice wet her eyes – to see such a towering strong man still so hurt after so long…to the Jedi Jarys had been an emotionless merciless beast, able to snap a seasoned knight in two with a thought, capable of fighting the utterly enormous Wookie High Sentinel Yshrrk to a standstill in hand to hand combat – yet to the People he was a caring and considered protector, an excellent and patient teacher, utterly devoted to and supportive of all People.

“…all her things are yours by right…I will…” he turned back outside, the aether pounding with sorrow flowing off him, it was too much to even see something that had belonged to Cilina – a man who had put his fist through a Sith Lords Chest, seen the worst of the galaxy while freeing slaves with the Sons, fought hideous monstrosities of Lucovis….brought low by the reminder of his lost bride.

Nodding, though he was already gone, she closed the door and opened the satchel. 

Inside were the expected things, two dresses, some underclothes, a few books and various combs and hair clips, sewing and knitting needles and…a small tightly woven blanket featuring Cilina and Jarys family colours blue and black against the typical creamy white fabric…a babies blanket no doubt Cilina made it expecting to wrap her child in it one day….

….to wrap Milaea in.

Taking up the blanket she pressed it against her cheek dotting away the tears.  This was going to be harder than she imagined.

<<<<>>>

“You can only sense them with the aether….” Jarys noted, after making sure everything was structurally sound he had re built the gardens, shed and barn, despite there being no animals, while Milaea cleaned up inside – the whole process had taken only two days – an Aethan in need of something to take his mind off sorrows could be extremely productive.

Now he pointed to the apparently blank tapestries on the walls around the main room of the long house.

“The Mountain Village women were almost all Volva’s, they’d sew these with thread and aether…Kassyndra herself is a strong Volva, her mother – your great grandmother – Shilea…whom Valens wife was named for…was a Volva and a Guardian…”

He paused considering for a moment

“I suppose that is why you see the future so easily, those powers were always strong in women from the Mountain Village…but tended to come later in life than you got them”

Staring at the intricate myth written in the aether into the tightly woven cloth Milaea was reminded of Miralukan artefacts she had seen on a trip to the Coruscant Museum of Antiquities with Soryu…wicker baskets and shawls that she stared at for almost an hour while Soryu patiently stood behind her encouraging her to reach out with the Force to the objects…

Obviously the traditions had been retained and the Mountain Village inhabited by Aethans with relatively stronger Miralukan DNA. 

“I’d never heard the People had Volva’s is it like a Seeress…” Milaea queried, “…not like priestess?”

Jarys shrugged

“Roles are not so distinct as in the Republic…one person can be many things…”

Milaea understood and Jarys flowed meaning across the aether to her, there were very few formal roles in Aethan society expect Guardian, and even that was now no longer a distinction with everyone to be trained and the nature of training to take into account the needs of surviving in a larger galaxy. 

Volva was the title given to a woman with particularly accurate visions and freely sharing them rather than a formal role, much like Kiraea was loosely a priestess for being the eldest woman with the most detailed knowledge of Myths and Rituals, people organically obtained a place in the tribe.

“Perhaps….you and Kassyndra could revive that tradition, it would be good to have a Volva to look out for us….”

Jarys well knew Milaea’s trepidation about looking into the future, the pain it could bring, she didn’t reply but he could feel her reluctance. 

“More so…” he clarified quickly running his hand along the tapestry which was a kind of family tree with a brief sense of each ancestor’s aetheric presence expertly infused in the threads, giving a hint at their personality and even occupation. 

“…to avoid losing these arts and knowledge, preserve it rather than use it for prophecy”

That seemed a more reasonable proposal.

“That might be a nice idea…” Milaea agreed placing her hand on his as it ran along the tapestry…they had lost so much already…healing the People culturally Milaea had realised was just as important as physically and emotionally…indeed the three could not truly be separated.

Her touch still felt strange to him…it shouldn’t…she was his daughter, and yet sometimes he still felt that was more accident of biology, Soryu was really the one who raised her after all.

Feeling his doubt Milaea doubled down leaning into him supportively.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered

“You will be a good father…I think…I know you and Kiraea will have many children….”

“Perhaps…” he replied quietly placing his other hand over hers.

A thought suddenly struck her and she pulled away leaping over to Cilina’s old satchel – taking out the blanket she had found earlier she scanned it with the aether – there embedded in the threads was ‘tune’ of sorts, a soothing Song the Mak’tor might say woven into the babies blanket – a child that reached out with the aether would instantly be met by the soothing melody and settled.

Marveling at the creation she nonetheless took it over to Jarys.

“Here, I want you to have this, you and Kiraea, for your own babies,”

He paused before touching it, scanning it gently with the aether, the song of the piece doubling under both their touches.

“Thank you…” he whispered quietly…

“I think it’s time.”

<<<<>>>>

Kassyndra lay on a large gormin wool rug by the fire of her house, Milaea sat crossed legged beside her – Jarys further down in the long house – as Son in Law and a Guardian if Kassyndra became frightened his presence would reassure her.

Milaea deftly removed the Sleep-totem from her grand-mothers breast deactivating is anaesthetic effect and waited.

Kassyndra’s breathing gradually became firmer and less frequent, People typically only needed to breath once every few hours, their bodies less reliant on oxygen for energy generation and much more efficient at using the oxygen they did imbue.

A warm presence built up beside Milaea, flickers of consciousness gradually drew together, like strokes of a painting – or more aptly thread of a tapestry gradually coming back together.

The fire crackled every so often warming Kassyndra’s cheek as she felt herself awaken, thoughts swirling about.  By instinct she reached out with the aether…instantly a welcoming presence latched onto her, yet still felt uncertain to grasp her fully.

“My baby…” Kassyndra whispered through a dry throat eyes still closed.  Milaea looked to Jarys who nodded she should move closer.

Touching Kassyndra’s arm her eyes flickered open.

“My Baby?”

Kassyndra could feel the woman beside her was…hers…but not Cilina or Shilea…

Milaea worried she as being mistaken for Cilina I can’t pretend to be my mother…

Before her worries Kassyndra would be disappointed could be realised her hand grasped Milaea’s in time with a strengthening of Kassyndra’s aetheric presence trying to grasp at Milaea’s firmly but warmly – like a mother.

“My Baby.” Kassyndra sad firmly and clearly eyes now fully open and combined with the aether truly seeing Milaea – there was no doubt as to her identity, the daughter of her daughter, and that made her Kassyndra’s baby – there was no strict distinction between children and grandchildren, or even nieces and nephews, in the collectivist close knit Aethan culture. 

Rising up on still uncertain arms she pulled into Milaea’s hug.

Satisfied the women were contended Jarys quietly left as they held each other.

Exactly how long they remained that way in the silence by the fire was only told when Kassyndra finally pulled away from her child needing to eat and drink, Milaea rushing to the small pack noted the sun had risen and poked through a small gap in the door.

It was to be the first of many mornings they would spend together.

Milaea telling Kassyndra of what she could remember of Cilina, her father Soryu and the good parts of the Jedi Temple…

Kassyndra showing her how to sew aetherically charged tapestries and telling stories of her forebears, Guardians, Volva’s, and simple traders and weavers all considered of equal importance, another healing was just commencing.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2020, 04:50:58 AM
Chapter 4 — Where the Heart Is  — Healing — Part 2
Selaena
(https://i.ibb.co/DLJxpH4/Selaena.png) (https://ibb.co/DLJxpH4)
In the second of the three medical theatres, next to the one Kassyndra had so recently been restored in, Selaena and Lyaea huddled over Lydan - son and brother to them – with weary eyes awake for nearly four standard days, unwilling to cease their efforts.

It was a painstakingly slow process removing the cybernetics, especially those in his brain.  Even for People with dexterity and precision movements better than nano-surgical droids it took time, cleansing his blood of combat-stims had already taken weeks and left her arm sore as she gave more and more of her own blood to replace what he lost.

But if it took a thousand years and a thousand deaths Selaena would’ve done it gladly to heal her son.  Lydan, her poor sweet boy had been turned by the nasty Outsider Aur Hondo into the cybernetic killer Surge, it gave her enormous pleasure to watch the video of how the Sons of Kessels had the filthy Aqualish lynched to death by his own slaves.

Yet painfully was Selaena was aware she could not heal her son alone. While she was more than able to perform shatter point healing, Lydans wretched state required an extreme amount of raw power to repair fully, almost as much as a complete body transference and generation such as Sofa had undergone – and the only People with that kind of raw strength were Valens and Milaea.

As the days wore on Selaena was becoming impatient for that moment to arrive, but also did not wish to intrude upon Kassyndra and Milaea as they reconnected.

Impatience masked her true fear – just what state would Lydan be in mentally when he was awoken?

The mental and aether scans were…inconclusive…their bodies were more than capable of repairing almost any damage, and their psychology had been designed by the Technocracy to cope effortlessly with the traumas and terrors of constant warfare making them immune to many depressive or anxious conditions an outsider would suffer after the same experiences.

Yet even so there were limits.

Warm hands held her shoulders suddenly

“You should rest mother…you’ve been awake nearly five days…” Lyaea noted behind her

Selaena swallowed dry, only just realizing she was quite dehydrated

“…you can’t look after Lydan if you’re not well yourself,”

It made her feel guilty to have to consider her own needs when her child was in such pain, yet she knew Lyaea was right.

Flicking through the medical scans Lyaea assessed the results

“We can’t do any more, we need Milaea to help boost his recovery, I’ll hook up the IV’s for the raw nutrients and fluids while you rest, then we can visit her together,”

Glancing to her brother Lyaea wondered if the Extolled might not be able to assist as well, the Yuuzhan Vong possessed many unique biotech skills and devices that she was determined to learn, even now the men were training with their senior warrior Yhum.

The thought sat for a moment as her Mother headed to get some food with a hug, perhaps one day…but not yet…

The People would adapt the most useful Vong Biotech - but only adapt - it was not fitting to utilise outsider, even Friendly outsider, bio devices on themselves – but it would certainly offer new ideas on how they could enhance themselves in the future.

Stepping to the side of the bed Lyaea wrapped one hand around the stumped palm that had once been covered with cybernetic fingers, her other hand stroking the whispy white strands on Lydans gaunt head, supressing the rage for what the outsiders had done to him as best she could…

“This won’t be easy brother…” she leaned forward to kiss his head

“But you will get better, no matter what it takes,”

<<<<>>>>

She kept her presence warm as the hearth fire as she embraced Selaena.  Whilst they had not known each other well, being from opposite ends of the Valley, she was no stranger to Kassyndra, and now they were just as bonded by their determination to see the People thrive once more.

Parting from her she guided her and Lyaea to the best place by the fire while Milaea prepared some small foods while Maeson and Melron planted the first crops and repaired the orchards.

“How are you settling in Kassyndra?” Lyaea asked crossing her legs, dressed once more in a traditional dress as they all were, the natural cottons connecting them to plant and earth.

“Well, it is…different here now…but good to be Home at last…” her hands brushed her brow

“Only my eyes twitching occasionally as they resettle after being restored,”

Milaea came in setting down beside her grandmother and handing out small bowls of the food, a mix of various high energy density foods with supplements for their unique needs.

“They function well?” Selaena said, her speech sparing as Milaea had indicated – both she and Kassyndra had suffered horribly at the hands of outsiders. 

“As good as ever, the twitching should subside after a few months?” she looked to Milaea for confirmation

“Yes they should, so I suppose you’re here to talk about Lydan?”

Selaena nodded eagerly
“We’ve done all we can, it’s time to repair him fully…” she paused in her enthusiasm
“If you are able,”

Milaea could feel the hope and trepidation mingled in Selaena, wishing to heal her son, but afraid he would not recover so easily as Kassyndra after being so brutalised. 

“Not if I am able…” Milaea replied to a quizzical look from the other women,

“If we are able…I’ll provide the extra energy, but you and Lyaea will heal him, his family that knows him best, you can give him the extra care and attention to detail I can’t,”

Lyaea smiled, and Selaena as well understanding, there was a certain art to such in depth healing and people who knew him as he was could better restore him from his damaged state…and in doing so hopefully Milaea thought, help heal themselves.

<<<<>>>>

If Kassyndra had been a sad sight before being healed, Lydan was utterly depressing.

So cut up from the cybernetics he had barely half the volume he should, even accounting for the vast amounts of nutrients and fluids pumping into his body to serve as raw material for regrowth.

Lyaea stood off to the side showing Kassyndra a small booklet with instructions on the overall process, Kassyndra curious to see how it all worked. 

Milaea had written the booklet after reviewing some of the tomes they had taken from Lucovis Almas fortress.

The Sith Alchemy tomes dealt mostly with transformation and necromancy – this situation was not far from it, without the life support machines Lydan would not survive on his own.

Milaea had no compunction about integrating Sith Alchemy techniques into her healing methods, the simple fact was they had some techniques that were better than those the Jedi or even Aethan Guardians had developed, notably around avoiding cancerous growths, fluid retention and backwash effects from the material source, allowing Milaea to devise a more effective means of repair.   

“Are we all ready?” she glanced to the women, all in clean whites provided as part of the Chiss medical suite

Selaena nodded her stomachs tightening with anticipation as she stood before the ruin of her son, only the thinnest trace of energy marking him as alive in the aether.

Milaea stepped between her and Lyaea – she would be in the centre holding their hands while Lyaea and Selaena’s outer hands flowed the energy into Lydan, Kassyndra still recovering herself but eager to participate was given the simpler task of making sure the nutrients continued to flow to his body.

Stretching out their hands Selaena paused, on the precipice of her hopes finding herself stalled – a jolt in her body dispelled the momentary delay as fiery red flew from her hand.

She poured out all she could of healing comfort, feeling her power lifted as Milaea channelled her seemingly endless raw energy into her.

Selaena hadn’t even noticed she had closed her eyes as she focused on mentally not on Lydan as he was now, but the young boy he had been, Lyaea opposite keeping a steady pace of energy in turn reflecting on the trips they would take as a family, how she Lydan and their father would tell stories in the evening in the barn after the herds were brought in, learning to swim with their mother….

These were the very things Milaea could never have provided – Lyaea and Selaena poured in all their feeling and memories of Lydan, the moments and experiences that made up his life before the Devastation, sparks that knit the nascent shattered consciousness of his aetheric presence back together – Milaea could’ve repaired his body but not the mind like they could. 

This was what made such comprehensive healing so powerful, but also limited it’s application, only those who truly knew you could truly heal, mind body and spirit.

Her arm strained being held up for what seemed like an hour as Lyaea finally opened her eyes, the room still red as energy flowed, but the figure on the bed looked different – the pallid white of his skin was now turning a raw pink, rounded growths protruding from the cuts left from the cybernetics as organs regrew and bones extended once more.

Milaea felt the rush of Lydans natural repair mechanisms start to kick in, Selaena shuddering with delight at the change that indicated his body was restarting, it was now Milaea pushed into the two women instructions to make their flows more precise, which organs to focus on first, and for how long to avoid excessive growth.

Working in tandem the ruined body turned more and more fluids that Kassyndra ensured did not cease into flesh and bone once more, the shatter point healing causing cells to divide at a rapid pace.

Lydan’s body began to tremble, a minor spasm sent it up, Lyaea kept the flow steady mentally consoling her mother they were on the right path, more signs were forthcoming as the less pleasant elements of such extreme healing became apparent - his digestive system restarting and expelling waste products from the building of new cells.

Her own breath starting to falter Milaea eased off, Selaena and Lyaea following in a gradual reduction of energy flows as Lydans own body took over the task – his body was near fully restored, limbs still looked far too thin, unique Aethan chest bones that acted like plate armour visible making the contrast to human configuration all the more obvious, but his skin was warm and pink now, flushed with blood, his presence even if not conscious was humming with activity in the aether soaking in all the power the Aether of their home could provide freely.

Now…they could only wait.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2020, 04:51:34 AM
 
Chapter 4 — Where the Heart is — Healing — Part 3

 
Milaea

The basics weren’t hard to learn – the mechanisms of it all, under, over, though, tie off there, switch threads…but the artistry was something Milaea struggled with.

Kassyndra gently guided her weaving the small blanket, threads carefully stored before the Devastation still pliant enough to use for practice and teaching.  It was more than just making a piece of fabric, it was a form of meditation and reflection, getting into a flow zone much like Soryu had taught her while practising the Forms – yet as with all things Aethan it had a deeper edge.

The thoughts and subconscious feelings bled out in the aether into the infused wool they used – Gormin were an aether using species as all on Aethas were – not naturally of course, they were selectively bred Nerf and Bantha Hybrids with a touch of a dozen other animals – as such their wool naturally held and absorbed the aether like it did air to insulate the wearer.

Milaea’s aetheric pattern woven into a small blanket was tense, still on edge even months after Ord Mirit. Yet having that feeling flow out of her and reflect back at her this way let her see it more clearly.

Kassyndra’s more well-crafted blanket was at first much sorrow, but then building to acceptance and hopefulness, contentment that though she had lost much in her daughters, she could focus on what she did have in Milaea and the others, and just being home.

“…your mother would sit just where you are,” Kassyndra noted absently stitching away on finer details around the border.

“Shilea opposite, always trying to outdo each other like twins do,” A thin smile crossed Kassyndra’s lips as she recalled those moments,

“Cilina would get so competitive she’d go too fast and make a mistake, have to unstitch whole sections to fix it, Shilea was more steady, but sometimes didn’t show the same passion Cilina did…”

She finished off another row

“I see them both in you, you’re calmer like Shilea, but when you do set out to do something, when you were healing poor Lydan, you put you’re all into it like Cilina would’ve….”

Setting down her needle she reached out to Milaea’s arm

“She would’ve been very proud of how clever and kind you are, I know I am,”

Milaea barely noticed until the tear hit the blanket she was crying, but the next line she stitched…felt of relief in the aether.

For some reason, though they had barely spend three weeks together, Kassyndra’s approval meant so much to her that it now made her cry as she lay her head on her grandmothers shoulder.

<<<<>>>>

Selaena
She would not leave his side.

For a week she had sat beside her son after having carried him down from the medical centre in the mountain to a long house Lyaea and Adaea had quickly cleaned and strengthened.

The closer Lydan was to the earth, the more familiar his surrounds, the better – it was only on Lyaea’s insistence Selaeana had not carried him to their old house in the hill village, she wanted to keep her brother closer to their proper medical equipment and Milaea in case something went wrong.   

So far all that had happened was the very slow draining of his IV’s that she changed out every three hours exactly, then cleaned and washed away the refuse as his body digested the nutrients and slowly built up a healthier level of muscle.

She knew his body would recover, they were engineered to heal rapidly and effectively, a few weeks of physical therapy would be easily enough to recover near full strength…but his mind…

The thoughts ran round her head endlessly, scenarios of disaster and delight competing as she waited to see when…if he awoke.

What if he never did, how long to wait before she euthanized him? What if he did but was damaged, corrupted by the outsiders beyond correction? A few simple presses to lull him to the embrace of the Goddesses while he was in a coma was one thing – but could she end him if he awoke mad, resisting her attempt.

Selaena would not let anyone else do it, even a Guardian, she was his mother, if he was gone she would send him on his way, no one else…

And what would become of her, could she live with herself after? She had Lyaea, but…   

Day after day she was as frozen as her boy, hovering between life and death, plagued by fear.

Another week passed, Milaea visited with Kassyndra, they had woven a large blanket for him together, infused with stories of Kassyndra’s survival to give him hope, Lyaea would visit every morning to bring her food, Adaea with her every second day.

Adaea looked curiously at Lydan.

He was handsome if still slightly boyish, with neat brown hair Selaena had no doubt trimmed, though his features were too gaunt to tell if h favoured his mother in looks, his body also still underweight but showed promise of a muscular frame.

He seemed so lonely despite his mother with him, and Selaena seemed very hopeless…it made Adaea feel uncomfortable, she didn’t like seeing other People sad or lonely like she had been before Kiraea rescued her.

Lydan would need someone to look after him, not just his Mother and Sister…he needed….

“…a wife…I’ll be his wife if he gets better,” Adaea said seemingly out of nowhere

At that Selaena looked up assessing what she had said

Lydan is kind and gentle, he will be a good husband for Adaea who will be sweet and affectionate to him

Lyaea not quite startled working through the reasoning of her adoptive sister…

He needs support to recover…so few of us left need to pair up quickly to repopulate…Adaea is lonely too, wants her own family…she knows Lydan, we so often talked about our families…

He’ll have a real future, a family of his own, give him a focus to get better…Adaea can give love and affection in ways I can’t

By the group thought and mingling feelings of the aether the matter was settled in an instant, each of the women feeling relieved for it – Adaea would have a kind husband and chance to have babies of her own, Lyaea would see her sister and brother happy together supporting each other, Selaena knew her son would have someone else to look after him, to encourage him in his recovery and after have a family just as she’d always hoped for him.

A small moment of hope flashed between them, a light that might yet break the shadowed night of his suffering that provided a moment of healing and solace for all the women who loved him.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea
Water trickled out of the open mouth onto shimmering greysleet that glistened wet the midday sun. 

Cold winds from higher up the mountain kept her hair in constant flux as they had wandered up the hold trails guided by firm if slightly aged and tattered guide ropes.

The white caps of the mountain peaks reflected the sun harshly making the entrance into the cavern from which the water flowed and into darkness all the more jarring.

Kassyndra lead the way, wrapped in a warm gormin fur knitted coat, Mialea hadn’t felt the need for such given how sunny it was…but the altitude and glaciers combined to prove her wrong.

Shivering slightly she looked about the cavern, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dark.  Like all sacred caves in the mountains there were carved benches along the side and old rugs, unlit candles, various jugs and amphorae, as well as small religious totems.

The cavern was wide and round, split through the centre by a stream of water entering from a moss and branch covered gap in the far roof from which small jets of light streamed between leaves.  The water flowed into a large central basin, then through and opening in the basin out through the entrance.

There was a rich smell of ash and animal fats, as well as more earthy mineral undertones…she was beginning to recognise them now as mineral based paints – yet the walls though seemingly flattened for painting were conspicuously blank.

“This is where we teach all women how to use their Sight, where the Volva’s would gather to look at what is going to happen…what has happened.” Kassyndra began walking to the basin, dipping one hand in her fingers open, the water still ice cold.

“All People have the Sight…” she went on
No doubt due to our Miraluka ancestry Milaea thought
“But some have the Deep sight…the seiðr - my mother had it…and now you have it…”

She beckoned with her free hand for Milaea to join her then nodded to the water.  Milaea dipped her hand in beside her grandmothers.

“The Seiðr is like water…always flowing, always moving,”

Always in Motion is the Future was Yoda’s approximation

“Try and grasp one moment of it…” Kassyndra’s fingers curled into a fist

“And you’ll only lose the moment as it flows away, your own motion prevents you from holding it…”

The future is not set. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves were other words she recalled from somewhere or other.

“It will flow its own course, perhaps you can guide it a little…” Kassyndra looked up to where the water entered and then down its path leaving the cavern, from where I would flow along eroded grooves to the waterfalls near the mountain village.

“But it will always follow its own path in the end, its natural path…”

Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong Milaea recalled from the Way and Its Power an ancient text Soryu had among his small collection of books she had read as a child, incessantly asking him what each proverb meant.

The recollection of Soryu as her father in that moment made he realise just how much she had come to see Kassyndra as a mother over the last few weeks…given she was her biological Grandmother and the deep genetic and aetheric links between People this was natural – unavoidable even – only now did she appreciate how strong that feeling had grown and so swiftly.

“That is the first thing to learn about the Seiðr you have…” Kassyndra paused for a moment a sad smile on her face

“A lesson you needed and I wasn’t there to give…”

There was truth, Milaea couldn’t deny she had needed to learn that, to know the future wasn’t hers to control, that all her strength couldn’t overcome the pliability of the flow of the Future…a lesson that had been painful for her to learn, and caused untold suffering to so many others…but still…

“It wasn’t your fault, we were all taken…” Milaea tried to console…through the water Kassyndra took her hand

“Still…we need to make up lost time…when we came here to gaze into the Future we looked for simple things…the next harvest, where to start a new mine shaft, which children would make happy marriages and strong children…we didn’t look beyond ourselves when we should’ve…”

She guided their hands out of the water, fingers stinging as the frosty air hit wet skin, and lead her toward one of the benches.

“And you my baby look too much outside yourself, trying to see what the whole galaxy would be doing, and not just Our place in it”

There wasn’t any rebuke in her words, more statement of fact…Milaea had, when she saw visions of possible futures on the Night of Madness, and Ord Mirit, foreseen galaxy spanning vistas where individuals were less protagonists capable of making their own choices than pawns of a cosmic game between light, dark and gray…if she looked to the future with such a bias had that distorted what she saw?

Kassyndra seemed to sense her thoughts as they sat back on the bench, she lifted up a small ceramic bowl, removing the lid – within was a rich red ochre.

“The seiðr isn’t independent of the woman practising it…we see through our own eyes…” she explained

“Our bias, fear, hopes and beliefs shape our visions of the future…” Milaea surmised

“Correct…” Kassyndra rubbed some of the rich mineral between her fingers, it came out less red than orange staining her finger tips as she turned and gently drew three fingers onto the Greysleet wall leaving and orange trail.

“But that means…no vision of the future can be accurate…not just because no variables are held constant, but also because our own vision is distorted, not just our interpretation but the contents of the vision itself….”

“In complex cases yes…for simple things, a few moments into the future, sensing what will happen next in a battle as Jarys and Valens do to outwit their opponents, it is clear of such distortions, males tend to divest themselves of mental loads more easily, but they also see less detail for it.” Kassyndra took another pot, this contained a white granular pigment.

“That’s why males cannot be Volva’s, they lack depth of seiðr…”

“But too much depth is its own problem….”

Kassyndra smiled

“That is the burden my baby, but there are ways to relieve it…” she picked up a third pot, this one with a rich black, likely ground blackstone, paint.

“By having others look at your vision, assess it in community of others with seiðr…”

She handed Milaea the pot

“To do that you must paint what you see,”

<<<<>>>>

Adaea
(https://i.ibb.co/zhq6ndH/A-Rota-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/zhq6ndH)
His back was to them both as the sun set at the far end of the valley, evening winds coming down from the mountains behind them coolly rusting the overgrown grasses about the long house.

For a brief moment Adaea wondered if she had made a mistake promising to marry Lydan, he was so quiet and sullen since waking up a week before, he was according to Lyaea and Selaena always a quiet boy, but now…now he was hardly doing anything…

The disappointment was etched on Selaena’s tired face, she knew it would not be easy, but never thought it would be this hard. 

She had been so excited when he finally regained consciousness, near breaking his neck with her hugs, Milaea had checked and he was physically recovered, albeit underweight, that Selaena aimed to remedy with many thick stews and roasts, but he lacked appetite, lacked any efforts at interaction.

She feared though the body lived her son was long since dead.

“I don’t know what to do anymore…” she whispered to Adaea “Milaea says he is physically recovering, Sofa says not to push, to just be there for him let him go at his own pace…”

Selaena had never imagined going to Sofa, but her training by the Jedi in counselling and psychology…among her own trauma’s and recovery experiences…was a resource not to be wasted.

“Maybe I can try…” Adaea suggested scratching Debi, her pet gobril’s ears as it purred on her shoulder.

“That’s what I hope…perhaps your pheromones…” the women were very aware of how intense the effect a woman’s pheromones could be, many of the Arts of Aephrodaea taught to young women were about managing them, knowing when and how to apply them to keep their males healthy and strong, or in other cases ensure they focused on required tasks.

Adaea’s lips pursed considering that approach, she had been taught how to use them by Kiraea…but Kiraea’s recommended approach to binding a mate might be a bit too…aggressive for Lydan.

“Perhaps I could just sit with him…see if I can get him to talk….”

He felt the young woman approach from behind him, could feel his mother’ presence seize with anxiety again…

Lydan tried to focus on that, to keep one clear thought in his head…but just as he felt some relief at focusing on only one things…his thoughts spiralled out again…

The cacophony of sensation – light, scent, sound, heat, aether was overwhelming…he had been locked so deeply inside himself by the Outsiders…a quiet voice shouted down my cybernetic implants and combat stimulants…that now being out of that silent black box felt too much…

His mind so long confined to a single conscious level, was now sprawled across six, bubbling and frothing with the tsunami of information superhuman aethan senses constantly provided.

“Hello!” Adaea said cheerfully crossing her legs to sit beside him.

“I’m Adaea, you might not remember me…we were very little before….”

Should I mention the Devastation, will that make him sad? Or would it be dishonest…

“…many bad things happened,” she finally resolved…only to be disappointed as he flinched away.

The extra sound and scent of her made him recoil…it was too much at once…

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean too upset you!” Adaea apologized she disliked People feeling bad so very much, picking up on her discomfort Debi chirped up rushing down her arm looking for any threats.

“Oh I forgot this is Debi my gobril!” suddenly a thought struck her.

“I always feel better when I hold Debi…would you like to hold her Lydan,” she scooped up the slightly overweight gobril…she had given her too many sweets...and held her toward him.

He was still half balled arms around his knees, peeking through the gaps he saw the glassy black eyes on the small furred creature, and the smiling but uncertain pretty face of Adaea behind it.

Slowly uncurling he held out his hand, Debi leapt across, his arm bowing shocked by the weight of the 25kg palm sized marsupial.

Debi quickly rushed up his arm, sniffing at Lydan, intermittently looking back to Adaea for confirmation she was still there like a child testing new boundaries.

The Gobril was warm, friendly, so content and uncomplicated…Lydan reached out to stroke its warm brown fur, it was soft, gentle…

Adaea shifted closer noting his presence calming as he patted Debi.

“Here…” she reached

“She loves being scratched behind the ears, why don’t you try!”

Selaena watching on felt a cool shiver of relief flow through her, he was interacting, with Adaea and Debi…

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2020, 04:53:25 AM
Chapter 4 — Where the Heart is — Healing — Part 4
Milaea
Wearing now only her light vest, the cold of the cavern forgotten by the frenetic heat of activity, Milaea dragged her little finger across to finish the last line of her vision.

What had been hours earlier a blank grey wall was now covered with a mural of the future she had seen.

With only a red-orange, black, white, brown and grey pigment to work with, some sections looked far more dramatic than they were…but this limitation of her pallet was made up for with fine detail in the aether.

Like everything on this world the pigments held aetheric meaning, feelings and thoughts. 

Milaea now more fully understood why Kassyndra had taught her how to infuse rugs and sewing work with the aether before taking her to this cavern, it meant Milaea had learnt how to impart meaning into objects before her first attempt at painting a future.

Once she had started the process felt effortless, she had rapidly entered a flow state, so much so she hadn’t noticed the setting and then re-rising of the sun, or that Kassyndra as in the interim left and returned with food and water for them.

Now they both looked upon Milaea’s creation.

In the centre was a figure, white, brown and orange to make a reasonable attempt at Aethan alabaster skin tones.  To one side she was wreathed with red flame, the other white – the dichotomy of the Red Goddess and the White Jedi Milaea had seen on Coruscant.

In the shadow of the Red was the Oblivion Army, the ships and armour not quite like the ones the People currently flew and wore, beneath their feet the bodies of millions. 

In the white clouds of the Jedi were peaceful beings debating with respect in what looked like the galactic senate based on the rounded platforms they stood upon, yet at the fringes was the looming end of the pax-Republica, the White Jedi kept the darkness at bay, but once her light was gone it would return.

About this central image were others, beings in gray, black, white and orange, their placement was not random but based on a complex web of who they were, who they had and would interact with and in what manner. 

A small figure she believed to be Yoda, stood isolated with another older Jedi…not Soryu, but someone else, someone very far away in time…they seemed to be alone, as if they were the last two Jedi.

Behind them a shadow that exuded a feeling of broken brotherhood with the taller man. This Shadow in turn was dominated by a robed figure Milaea recognised as the Green Faced Emperor she had once spoken to cross time on Coruscant. Yet from this came two beings of…somewhat tainted white to balance the darkness of the Emperor.

Yet they were far in the background…those events and beings distant in time, closer to the front were two gray men, both leaning to shadows even as they stretched arms toward each other – one arm in brother hood, the other in war….a civil war of some kind…disturbingly one of the men – his face detailed with a moustache under flattened nose and hair with top knot –Anzat? - was leaning back toward the central mural that held the images of the Oblivion Army…as if he were somehow connected to the Oblivion Army…either using it or…being used by it

Kassyndra too studied the work –and Milaea as she looked at it. 

Her granddaughter was both relived and tense – the relief came from ‘externalising’ the images that plagued her, putting the future that had so far only been in her head ‘out there’ onto the rock – this process of detaching oneself from a vision was a key reason why the ancient Volva’s had made this place.

Secondly was to see how the Volva saw her own vision…Milaea was boring down on the detail trying to scry meaning, to label the figures she had painted and work out the where and when…her underlying desire to prevent some events and accelerating others was palpable.

Her Granddaughter still hadn’t given up her anxieties on the vision being true.  This was the second reason the Volva’s made this place, and now it was time to teach her.

As Milaea stared ever deeper into the aether ad the pigments Kassyndra quickly dipped a bowl into the basin at the centre of the cave and hurled the icy water onto the murals, splashing Milaea’s face and sending the pigments streaming down as if the wall were weeping colour

Milaea spun around shocked

“My Baby this is how fluid your visions are…washed away by the slightest rain, the tinniest change, you could spend years probing each detail you painted losing your life and your sanity into it…” she stepped forward and handed Milaea the bowl.

“Look for a moment at what your Seiðr has crafted, but not alone, and not for longer than needed, take what it can offer to keep in mind as you go about your life…then wash it away.”

Milaea was less shocked by the action than by the sudden change in Kasyndra’s demeanour…so far she had been kind, gentle and motherly…but now she showed she was also firm and decisive…

It wasn’t a contradiction Milaea realised, Kassyndra was a mother to her, that involved being both supportive and stern as the situation demanded.

And this situation where Milaea was falling back into the trap of obsessing over possible futures demanded it.

Taking the bowl Milaea swiftly cut it through the water and washed the maddening future away.

<<<<>>>>

Selaena

The forest buzzed with life as she gently stalked through it, her presence suppressed, her steps lithe not leaving a trace.

Gosalam clung to the trees, Gopin fretted about picking at fallen fruits and grains from the trees, the odd Gobril appeared in twelve places using its aetheric illusion abilities as Snow-hawks peered down through the canopy looking to pin them telekinetically.

All this was just background, as always Selaena’s focus was on her child.

Lydan walked tentatively along the now overgrown log cutters track, Adaea beside him holding his arm, Debi the Gobril rested on the younger woman’s shoulder.

He was improving by leaps after every one of Adaea’s visits, in some ways it made Selaena jealous that she could not help her son as much…but she understood the essence of it. 

Adaea was an attractive unrelated woman, her presence activated instinctive drives in Lydan to protect and care for her…Selaena as his mother could only inspire a feeling of safety in her boy, not a drive to action.

“…and of course that meant the voltage was too high so I had to put in a tertiary resistor, but then I thought why do that when the charge can be siphoned into a capacitor for use in the void arc….” Adaea’s high voice trailed along as she explained to Lydan the complexities of her latest starship designs…how much of this Lydan understood at the moment Selaena was unsure…but importantly for every word that was being spoken Adaea was gently sliding information into his mind through the aether.

The content of the information didn’t matter, the bonding potential did.

As she swung her body low under a branch then leapt over a knot of vines she recalled how Lysan, her husband and the father of her children had taught her about the intricacies of curing leathers when they were first courting after their parents agreed to the match and the Guardian confirmed they were not too closely related.

She in turn had taught Lysan about fishing, when the best time to head out was, the best bits and the like, how to catch Sea-Gulpers, birds that nested on rocky islets just off the coast….they’d then raced each other out there trying to snatch eggs and avoid the Vosharks…

She hoped her son would soon do such things with Adaea.

<<<<>>>>

Lydan
(https://i.ibb.co/0q3bQVk/Lydan-rst.png) (https://ibb.co/0q3bQVk)
Even if Adaea couldn’t, Lydan could feel his mother watching them, she was never far.

He was happy for it, it did make him feel safe, but as the weeks had gone by he was feeling more confident around Adaea at least, enjoying playing with Debi, venturing every further on their walks from the house.

…yet even so he could feel a desire to do…things…with Adaea which he was somewhat uncomfortable with his mother watching.

But such could not be for some time…Adaea spoke more loudly each time as his senses became less sensitive, but still too much light and sound could overwhelm his frayed nerves. 

Milaea, a girl he couldn’t remember from before….before….had told him it might take a few months for his regrown nervous system to fully settle.

He still had trouble talking…though in all honesty he had little to talk about with his simple days of eating to regain weight, rest and doing a few small chores…and his words still stuttered as connections slowly reformed in the speech centres of his brain…fortunately Adaea more than made up for his quietness…but it was embarrassing.

“…and then I switched over to manual as the 3D printer just took too long on its own, so much faster to use the aether…”Adaea continued on explaining the intricacies of making the control panels for the ’Vorynx’ Fighters…the thought of so many machines unnerved him…after he had cybernetics forcefully grafted onto him….

They continued down the path Adaea talking and occasional tightening her grip to make sure he kept upright as he felt the occasional twinges of leg spasms that in the first few days had been so bad he feared he would never walk again.

The air became ever more moist as they went deeper into the now overgrown forest, the scents of flora and fauna becoming ever stronger, his face twisting as though he had bitten into a sour Kyala fruit. 

Adaea must’ve noticed…he just hoped she didn’t think it was displeasure at being with her that caused the reaction…

She smiled warmly, she understood, but continued guiding him forward – were it up to him he would’ve run back to the quiet of his room away from the excess of stimulation…but he couldn’t let Adaea down.

Rounding large mossy rock he briefly caught a glimpse of his mother leaping between branches as this as carts.  A rich and heady scent suddenly filled the air almost causing him to stumble.

“…a little further I have a surprise for you!” Adaea beamed increasing her pace, she was skipping along as he felt himself half running, his left leg twitching at the pace as they moved down a path where the trees thinned out but the scents increased.

Just through the wilting shorter shrubbery over long grass that ate up nutrients keeping the trees at bay spread out into a wide meadow dotted with small blue and lilac blossoms of Aephrodaea’s rose, and among the off white stalks of the grass were large brown orange mounds of wool, revealing the source of the strong smell.

A whole herd of Gormin at rest in the meadow, the larger adults arrayed in a rough circle as the juveniles trotted about inside the protective cordon, one larger than all the rest, the lead heifer no doubt, stood up a slightly incline gazing over her herd.

“A whole herd of Gormin!” Adaea said excitedly

“Milaea sensed them while out with Kassyndra….” She gripped him more tightly as the heifer noted their presence and wandered down warily, the other adults swiftly taking note as well.

Suddenly the heifer charged straight toward them.  Eyes wide Lydan felt he was about to collapse as the ground rumbled but Adaea held him firmly in place.

He could feel his mother’s concern and a brief spurt of rushed words between her and Adaea telepathically.

Mere inches from the 800 kilo near 3 metre tall animal hitting them it suddenly stopped, its huge snout and large eyes staring straight at them both.

She was quite an old heifer, how old he couldn’t quite tell but he suspected she had been born before the Devastation based on how long it would take to grow that large, patches of white wool showed a venerable age, and a number of scars and well-worn horns indicated she had protected her herd over the years from numerous vorynx attacks.

Debi on Adaea’s shoulder chirped at the large animal, which boomed low in turn.

“This is the largest herd left…” Adaea said “they’ve survived on their own while we were all away…but now someone needs to look after them…I think you should do it Lydan, you’re so good with Debi, and it will do you good to get out doors more!”

Seeming to understand her words the Heifer looked straight at him. 

Through the aether he could feel the press of the nascent consciousness of the Gormin, it was old enough to remember when the People were still here and they cared for each other, the People protecting them from Vorynx and giving shelter, the Gormin in turn providing wool, milk, and when they grew old and needed to make way for the next generation given the limited food in the valley, meat.

“Me…but I c..c…can’t…I can’t even walk…”

“You just need more practice, you’ll get lots following the Gormin…”

“But what if a Vorynx attacks, how will I…”

“There’s plenty of grass near the houses and mountain for now, by the time they need to graze further you’ll be strong again!”

Lydan looked to Adaea, her face full of hope and confidence in him, then to the Gormin heifer, its face weary of shouldering the protection of the herd alone…it’s effortless connection to the aether presented images in his mind of an over population of vorynx…they had bred too fast without the People to limit their numbers by restricting their access to Gormin and Goyruts…

And finally he felt his mother hidden in the grass, watching on.  He could sense her trepidation, she wanted her son to find his place again, but worried he might not be ready, whatever he did she would help him, but the decision was his.

Swallowing his doubts he stretched out his hand to pat the Gormin on the head.

“Momo…that is what I’ll call you…” he said clearly his stutter holding off for the time being.

“I’ll look after you and your herd Momo if you L…L…L…” his face twisted with frustration as the word stuck, Adaea gently stroked his arm.

“Look after me and my f…family.”

Momo pressed her snout forward and a huge tongue as large as his forearms lapped his head in acceptance.

“Hahaha!” Adaea laughed

“I think she likes you!”
<<<<>>>>

Selaena
Breathing out with relief she looked on as her son made friends with the gentle animals…and Adaea herself, gaining confidence with every interaction.

As the days then passed she still kept near him, ensuring he was always safe, watching on as over a few weeks his strength began to return, his spasms subsided, his confidence increasing as he, with Melron and Valens help, built a Barn for the Gormin to sleep in when it rained.

She saw how with each visit to Milaea and Kassyndra there was less and less shatter-point healing tweaks needed, Milaea giving over the task fully to Kassyndra who was by now rapidly learning from her Granddaughter, teaching each other as their family too long parted came together.

She heard how much more Lydan would talk with his sister as his stutter subsided, then more with Jarys, Kiraea and Maeson as Lydan confronted his fears and asked about how he had been rescued from Aur Hondo of the Black Sun that had sought to weaponize his body.

Even so, flashes of things his body had done as the cybernetic slave Surge began to infiltrate his thoughts, and muscle memories of the combat protocols began to stir. 

Sofa helped with the first, her experience with the Jedi in counselling and psychology of some use, but more importantly her own experiences in dealing with trauma, the loss of agency and the empathy that yielded were invaluable.

Valens assisted with the second, every second morning heading out with him as the Gormin rose to teach Lydan basic marital arts, occasionally joined by Milaea and Kassyndra, Milaea adding in karta’s and sequences used by her adoptive father Soryu that had a calming effect comparative to Valens more combat oriented focus - it all went to ensuring the powerful Aethan motor cortices were restored gradually and the jittering memories smoothed away.

And most of all through all this Adaea’s presence kept Lydan determined to get better – to be better for her.

For a Person could not heal alone, they were People, plural, to be whole, to be healthy they needed to be just that.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on April 06, 2020, 07:34:05 PM
LSG, that was really really great to read.   The People healing.  :-)

Say what you want about them, its hard not to root for them.  Thank you!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 10, 2020, 06:13:48 AM
Finally got caught up  ;)

OK, I have to admit that I am THOROUGHLY enjoying this narrative!  This seems like a "peek behind the curtains" to truly see some of the nuances of Aethan culture and society, made even more poignant given what the survivors LOST during the Devastation.  Add into the mix Mili's own anxieties concerning her role as a galactic savior/tyrant/martyr (or something else entirely...) and you've given us a story that is as tragic as the Aethan's past itself.  Wonderful...haunting, but wondeful...

Which brings me to the introduction of "new" characters e.g. Kassyndra, Lydan   One thing I really appreciate is your portrayal of them as people and not the indestructible machines that they could have come off as.  In fact, I think that "Remnant of the Aether" just might be your most revealing narrative yet^^

Oh, and I absolutely loved the easter egg to a certain civil war and resident Kage/tragic figure  ;)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 28, 2020, 06:53:58 AM
Chapter 5 — Avatars and Acolytes — Part 1
Warriors
(https://i.ibb.co/syVWd82/Yhum.jpg) (https://ibb.co/syVWd82)
It burned every centimetre it rolled down his cheek, gouging into his skin.

The Amphistaff venom was capable of melting durasteel, fortunately Aethan skin was stronger, a cross hatched hyper-keratin that could blunt vibro knives.

Even so, the red flare indicating damage proved the effectiveness of Vong weaponry a solid reminder to Jarys avoiding a hit was preferable to dealing with one.

Strengthening his stance he lunged back with a coufee emulating the thrust Yhum had shown, starting low then rising up with a twist, keeping the elbow loose to manoeuvre away from any attempt to block.

The blade slashed through the air and under Valens guard, his control of the amphistaff not yet expert enough to block the drive that hit him solidly in the training armour made of a crab like voduun.

Two days of every nine day week were spent intensively training with the Yuuzhan Vong, taking in all they could teach with their eidetic memories and ability to near perfectly emulate motions they saw.

It was not difficult to get the basics down, but still the most difficult training Jarys had ever undergone, the Vong were dead in the aether, he could not passively absorb knowledge and skills through his Aethenaea cortex, he had to learn like Outsiders did in the depths of the Vong vessel, a “Ro'ik chuun m'arh”. 

Training in Aetheric nulls was not unknown, but the Vong seemed more ‘absence’ than null – the distinction seemed semantic but Jarys was beginning to sense the subtlety of it – a Null killed all sense of the aether, but an absence…could be conspicuous enough to ‘sense’ if attuned properly.

Valens recovered swinging down the amphistaff in its rigid ‘staff’ configuration, then switching to loose mid sweep, the serpent like creature twisting round to avoid Jarys block and once more spew venom toward him – a swift dodge avoided that and switching feet rapidly wrong footed Valens advance, twisting down to ram his elbow into his brothers knee.

Valens staggered but dodged Jarys follow through, releasing his grip to throw a swift punch cracking the voddun crab shell on Jarys shoulder – just as expected. 

Even after years apart he still knew his brothers tactics well, hand flying forward before Valens could retract his own, he caught the wrist and pulled down with a twist, Jarys other hand slicing down with the coufee to slash into the head, Valens twisting his neck to avoid the main blow unable to avoid a solid cut on the cheek. 

Despite the haze of damage sensation Valens smiled, his shin still sore from a blow Maeson had given him the day before, back scratched from Yhums radank claw a week earlier – scars testament to their growing knowledge.

“Attack, Attack and Attack, then die in honourable battle” that was the Vong creed of warfare as Yhum taught it, Valens implemented his now, accepting the pain he head-butted straight into the dagger – trusting near diamond strength Aethan bone to deflect the couffee and ram into the side of Jarys head – it worked sending his brothers eyes briefly upward with the impact. 

Jarys quickly disengaged, rolling out with a kick and hurling the now blunted coufee along with a thud bug – Valens deflected both with the amphistaff using his natural reflexes rather than the aether.

Parted they sized each other up, both heaving and sweating, the voduun armour soaking up the sweat to hydrate itself – an innovation Melron was especially keen to explore as they designed Mark II Oblivion armour – the old man bursting with energy to learn all he could about the Vong and their culture as he had the Morgukai.

Valens locked eyes with Jarys, dozens of predictive combat models streamed through their fourth and fifth consciousness in an invisible Dejarik.

It didn’t matter.

Out of nowhere three Vong warriors leapt on Valens from behind, crashing him to the ground, barely able to put up his arms to block the blows to his face, Melron and Maeson diving at Jarys, Melron striking with Amphistaff to force him to block then Maeson crash tackling him.

“Attack, attack, and never let your enemy know when or where you attack from…” Yhums voice resonated in the yorik coral training chamber as the melee continued, four more of his warriors, three of whom were formerly ‘shamed ones’ engaging the Avatars.

Standing on the observation lip the battle below became a free for all, Yhum stalked along the edge pointing out errors of both his own warriors and the Avatars as the fight got brutal and close, fists, elbows and knees raw from impacting armour and bone.

The Avatars learned swiftly, and had taught Yhum just as much…he now saw that while the main fleet might succeed initially and undoubtedly do severe damage to the Republic, the Yuuzhan Vong could never fully conquer this galaxy, not with beings such as the Jeedai and Sith, let alone the Avatars or ‘Aethans” as they called themselves.

His greatest hope was now to find a way to communicate this to fleet, and along with Reeda Kwn, the former shaper and now leader of the Extolled, to show the castes their betrayal of the Gods in shaming others to lives of slavery. 

So long he had abused and rejected those with malformations, biots that failed to take, or who through some slip up lost honour, the Avatars showed him the error of his ways, the need to treat all Yuuzhan Vong as just that – Children of the Gods – all were his brothers or sisters, there must be no shaming or abuse, only respect and assistance.

The sight before him, four beings of this galaxy training hard with those who were warriors and Shamed he could not have imagined a year ago, yet now seemed so natural.  And while not all had settled into this new way easily he knew it to be right.

Jarys, the Avatar of Yun’Yammka began to get the upper hand, his strength prodigious and unrestrained, he cast off one warrior, then hurled the Avatar Melron like a child’s plaything.

Yhum nodded to himself, time for another lesson.

Twisting his finger back he withdrew the spiny fluid coated dart and hurled it at Jarys neck.

Distracted it struck true – Jarys rapidly ripped it out, the Avatars advanced biology would not paralyse fully, but the toxin slowed him enough for the Avatar Maeson to sweep Jarys legs from under him.

“Attack, Attack, Attack,” Yhum repeated.

Grunting against the paralysis venom that his immune system was rapidly attacking Jarys obliged, grasping a stray amphistaff and hurling it at Yhum.

Finally! Yhum thought leaping from the edge into the melee.

<<<<>>>>

Researchers
It was as hideous as it was astounding.  Splayed like a creature of the deep sea with no two tendrils matching, sicking glistening webs between each digit and bulbous luminous growths all over.

And yet it was essential they learn Everything about it.

The ‘Shaper hand’ belonged to Reeda Kwn, the Vong Shaper who had been ‘shamed’ for treating other Shamed Ones on the main fleet and sent here as a slave with the Praetorite Vong Scouting party.

At some point the Vong had come into contact with Vigo Xithar of the Black Sun – or rather Darth Lucovis of the Baneite rule of Two –immediately recognising the value of extra-galactic biotechnology he struck a deal with their Prefect Kuun Carr, in exchange for bio-tech Xithar would, through his Scientist Sicara – design vaccines to common diseases native to the galaxy for transmission to the Vong fleet ensuring their invasion was not devastated by a simple outbreak of Bantha-Pox or Corellian Gastroenteritis.

No doubt Lucovis had some plan in mind to scuttle the invasion, and Kuun Carr a plot to ensure that did not succeed…it all became irrelevant when captured by Sicara Lyaea had exploded in rage to escape, the superstitious Shamed Ones interpreting aetheric power and demand they free themselves as evidence she was the Avatar of Yun’Shuno patron of shamed ones in their religion.

All the information Xithar had to bargain for was given freely as a religious duty by Reeda Kwn.

“…and this is a multispectral protein analyser, it links into the vaa tumour to compare the sample against the memory…” Kwn explained each piece of her shaper hand, grafted in replacement of her original in turn to Lyaea, Milaea and Kassyndra as they sat in the coral room of the living vessel.

<It’s range of detection is beyond our own tongues…> Lyaea noted telepathically

The Vong biotech oft times more advanced than their own engineered bodies. The shapers hand alone contained taste bud like features that could break down almost any organic compound to analyse its constituent parts, a tentacle like appendage that could ‘read’ mRNA enough to determine the protein it would make and function thereof, pincers that could perform nucleus level snipping…

<We can adapt much of it…> Kassyndra sent back, Milaea worried about how swiftly her grandmother was taking to the task of ‘enhancing’ themselves further genetically. 

The Technocracies quest for perfection was still deeply entrenched in their DNA.

“Going back, the tumour acts like a database…” Lyaea queried about the organ implanted into the Shapers brain, a biological library linked neurologically to the pre-frontal cortex to allow the being with the implant to access vast amount of knowledge stored in a ‘qasha’.

“Yes…database…” Analogies were difficult.

The vaa tumour stored memories in a neural web that whilst similar to the structure used in Aethan biologically that gave them eidetic memories and capacity to store centuries of lived experience, was in some ways superior to it.

“Could this database be digitized?”

“Digit….” Kwn asked

“Oh transitioned into an electronic format, our technology basically,”

The Yuuzhan Vong had an aversion to non-living technology that Milaea would parallel to Aethan aversion to…well anything Outsider that did not serve them.

“I am…uncertain Avatar, the difference in the nature of the medium may be too great,”

“Not that great,” Lyaea mused her hand flicking out to show off sparks of aetheric lighting that she twisted effortlessly into the image of a brain.

“Neurons are oft, in essence, binary – Ones or Zeroes recording information based on the pattern of their activation in a lattice, such a web can be created using matrix software, then just map the same network across,”

“An artificial intelligence?” Milaea clarified

“In a way, more like an artificial memory, a virtual brain with no conscious ability but with knowledge intact,”

<It will make it easier for us access the wealth of Vong Knowledge> Lyaea happily added telepathically

<Just think how much greater we can become with some of these enhancements…and anyway we will need every advantage we can get when the Vong fleet arrives>

It was impossible to determine where the Vong fleet was and where it would arrive, even with the Extolled’s help they had no way to position the fleet so deep in the galactic void, and the slightest course correction could cause it to arrive in a totally different quadrant.

The few villips they had for communication to the main fleet were specialised to only transmit one way genetic information for vaccines across the extreme distance. 

While the likely time frame for arrival was centuries, Milaea well understood no amount of preparation could be enough.

Reeda was visibly uncomfortable

“Avatar…I do not feel this is an…”  she paused choosing her words to the divine beings carefully

“…appropriate method of sharing knowledge”

‘Avatar’ sat ill with Milaea.  It was bad enough when beings of this galaxy ascribed divinity to Jedi, not an unusual event indeed Soryu had told her after the Bpfaashi uprising, many former worshippers of the Dark Master shifted their worship to the Jedi who defeated him. 

Milaea’s own experiences of the Goddesses meant she didn’t discount the possibility of some alliance between the uncertain Yun’o and the very real Aethan Goddesses….it still did not justify the degree to which the People were using their divinity to benefit from the Extolled.

“…the Shapers knowledge has been held sacrosanct among the Caste since time immemorial, there are rituals to the implantation of the tumour, to understand it requires years of study and symbiotic bonding…” Reeda went on

Lyaea held no compunctions her eyes flaring blue in a cheap aetheric trick to awe Reeda

“I understood the Extolled had cast off the Caste system,” Lyaea replied, pushing out an aetheric glow about her body.

The Extolled revolution removed the strict system that kept some Vong as ‘Shamed ones’ effectively slaves, separate from the Warrior, Shaper, Attendant and Priestly Castes that exploited them.  Lyaea was using this to push them to abandon even more of their traditions with the sole goal of benefiting the People.

<This is quite manipulative Lyaea,> Milaea reproached

<Thank you!> Lyaea beamed

“That is true Avatar…”

Lyaea stepped forward placing her heavier and stronger arm around Reeda, the Extolled woman flinched, such physical contact was unheard of among the Yuuzhan Vong.

“It is the right thing to share your knowledge, as you assisted many shamed ones with your shaper arts while on the fleet that in turn lead to you being shamed for your compassion…” Lyaea soothed, dead to the aether she could not simply dominate Reeda’s mind so had to rely on rhetoric.

Lyaea could be extraordinarily self-absorbed and fickle - even for an Aethan – but when it came to business her naughty and selfish demeanour sharpened into a fierce cunning and eloquence that few could match.

“You followed the Path of Compassion further while among the shamed ones, showing leadership and comforting them…”

Lyaea drew Reeda closer, Milaea well aware such proximity was disgusting to Lyaea – it showed just how much she wanted this knowledge for the People.

“…with each step along this path you brought yourself closer to the Gods, finding myself the Avatar of Yun’Shuno because of it…”

Her eyes flashed blue again.

“Continue the Path, go deeper, show your compassion to all living things by sharing your knowledge as fully as possible…transition from mechanical to biological technology is merely a small hill to climb on the Path,”

Reeda nodded in agreement as Milaea felt equally disturbed and impressed.

“You are correct Avatar, the Path of Compassion leads me closer to the Gods…I will follow it still,”

<You object Milaea? Lya made a strong argument…and this will help the People prepare immensely> Kassyndra inquired

<Not object just…> she paused the tension between her distaste at exploiting the Extolled’s beliefs and the very real need to prepare the People for the Yuzzhan Vong invasion as much as possible at the point of breaking.

<…uncertain.>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 28, 2020, 06:54:45 AM
 
Chapter 5 — Avatars and Acolytes — Part 2

Farmers

High in nitrogen, potassium, moist and rich with the scent of life Maeson squeezed the dirt in his hand feeling out the loamy texture.

“Perfect,” he noted to the hideous lipless ‘smile’ of Yahn Dur.

The sun scattered in thin beams through the dense canopy of the equatorial jungle, enormous trees centuries old laced with flowering vines stood sentinel over leafy bushes, sharp grasses and bobbing mushrooms clustered together and writhing with insects and bird life.

“I am pleased to serve Avatar,” Dur crossed his arms against his chest and bowed.

Dur had been a Shamed one, originally a trainee shaper he was cast into slavery for a forbidden cross caste sexual relationship with a priest and spending the better part of thirty years attending to the nurseries and bio-support creatures of Yuuzhan Vong vessels, using his shaper knowledge and natural affinity for vong biots he had been successful in keeping the vessel they came to this galaxy on – the Eversight running smoothly, the water always clean, food always rich in nutrients – even if was a green slimy blob out of a queer pink creatures dangling…dangling…

Maeson shuddered at the thought of what part of the anatomy they got their food from on the long voyage across the galactic void.

“Um…yes serve…well thank you for this, I think it’s time to expand the program to the whole jungle,”

In between training sessions Maeson had been tasked with working with the Vong ‘farmer’ equivalent to help restore Aethas own eco systems. 

While the Chiss terraforming and natural resilience of the genetically engineered plants and species of Aethas was by all other measures already exceptional, Yuuzhan Vong bio-tech would make it even more so and speed the growth of new crops, orchards and forests by years, decades even.

“We will begin transferring the micro-biots immediately.” Dur bowed once more arms across his chest, thirty years of habitual deference hard to overcome it seemed.

The key to the restoration was the soil, specialised Vong bacterium, algae, archaea and fungi adapted to cycling stagnant ship bound soil had been modified further to survive the higher metal content, stronger deep core radiation, higher gravity and noble gases of Aethas to help regenerating soils blasted by the Sith to near glass centuries ago.

Maeson stood up still slightly sore from the last training session, cuts just healed over from the razor sharp amphistaffs, and a large purple welt where a thud bug had struck him on the cheek.

He still looked better than the scarred Vong workers who stank of decay and retained the wretched look of long term malnutrition he had seen too often in the mines he slaved in himself, then with the Sons as they liberated those they could. 

“That will be appreciated,” he stood up after gently patting the soil back down, he’d been a farmer until he’d been taken, a large orchard of Kyala fruits as well as smaller plots of Trigrain cycled with Pob-root – Maeson missed that life, missed his family more…the latter he could never restore, but he might find some peace in regrowing he former.

“Come let us check on Lydan,”

Heading through the circular plots of various Vong plants – villips, glow lichen, Lambents and more Maeson noted approvingly the diversity which would enhance the Aethan Biosphere as it spread…and enhance the People and their animals in turn by interacting with them, adding to competitive pressure that would strengthen all species.

So far they had allocated a number of larger equatorial islands for the Vong to plant crops and release their creatures on, the humid jungle climates were…not uncomfortable…but certainly not preferred by People who lived in the Alpine Valleys on the Northern continent. 

These isles like the other continents would be left to nature as they had been since the time Aethas was first settled, but with a new and ever growing range of more perfect species.

They strolled through the vines laced with young amphistaffs where young Lydan stood with Tschun-Lah, another former shamed one who had been a Warrior first, his crime was to be on the losing side of some internecine conflict in his Domain.

Lydan was suffering the odd twitch or stammer, and as always Selaena was nearby to protect him.

Lydan held out his hand and one of the serpent like creature tangled up along his arm, Tschun watching closely.

“The Warrior and Weapon become one – one body one will, the Will of the warrior is of thought, the Will of the Weapon enacting that thought, when combined they are un-stoppable,” Tschun explained

A sudden twitch along Lydan’s arms – another spasm – caused the amphistaff to rear up and hiss, Lydan placed his other hand at its eye level and drew it back down.  The beady eyes followed the hand till it settled back on his arm.

Tchsun made a slight nod of affirmation at this technique

“When the Warrior is injured, the weapon knows,”

“They are one,” Lydan affirmed.

“This is so,”

“Things going well I see Lydan?” Maeson said warmly

“Yes...these Extolled animals are inter…inter…interesting,”

He was a gentle boy, the Gormin had taken quickly to him as shepherd, and it seemed the Vong creatures responded just as well.   It gave Lydan something to focus on as he healed, and among other lessons they provided him, brought him up to speed. 

As kindly and mild as he was, Lydan would still need to be trained in time – the People needed every man and woman to be a warrior now.

“I think they will scare the herds though…” Lydan explained
“Their different smell and lack of…”

Maeson understood, all these creature lacked the aether – not in the way a Gosalam could create a null barrier or Vosis a deflection field…but rather actual absence.  It was a puzzle they hoped to solve – one day. 

“Well they are best suited for the equatorial jungles any way, not many Gormin here,” Maeson went on

And keep the Vong creatures contained

There was a risk in having them on world, but the need to study them to prepare for the Vong fleet meant there was no other viable option, largely isolated on these islands they could do just that – and then one day Perfect them just as the Technocracy had perfected Ysalamirir and Vornskrs into Gosalam and Vorynx, Nerfs and Bantha’s into Gormin, in time they would turn the Amphistaffs into Vostaffs, Thud Bugs into Krebuds, Villips into Kylips.

Whether he knew it or not Lydan would be key to this, his affinity for living things was essential to achieving that end.

“You are pleased with the progress then Avatar?” Dur asked again crossing his arms in a bow of reverence that Maeson, a veteran of the Sons of Kessel found discomforting.

He took the Extolled’s shoulders and raised him up,

“No need to bow, and yes We are pleased.”

<<<<>>>>

 
Engineers

A block of Blackstone nearly ten meters wide, 5 high and perhaps 13 long lifted from the ground as he felt in his advanced vestibular systems the pulsing of gravity.

Deep under Mount Aelia three Dovin Basals, queer blobby looking things that twisted gravity were in gluggy bloated sacs carried by odd creatures tended to by the Extolled, pulsing as they rested.

Melron stood impressed even as he wiped the sweat from his brow and aided the lifting with the aether to set the bloc down in the huge empty space they were mining out, structural support given by solidified and no longer living Yorik coral skeletons.

Like the other men he still bore the bruises of combat training, and in the recovery time he had a no less important task.

They were rapidly clearing spaces for new sections to their fortress, so quickly now in fact they could begin on the second Mountain fortress at mid Valley Mount Veilaea soon, then to Mount Alixaea to shore up the old Technocracy facility and improve it.

“Good…lets keep it up!” he whispered knowing the echoes would amplify his voice a dozen fold as he guided the heavy slab down.  The block was too small for use as an Obelisk, but would with some cutting serve for plating on Vorynx fighters.

He stood by the next wall feeling the tug of the soli Blackstone…delving into it with his eyes closed to see the fractal lines of where to shatter.  This had been the old way of mining, to use the aether to find the richest mineral veins, use shatterpoint telekinesis to make a break before using more mechanical means – Blackstone ate the aether as much as the light from the Vong Glow bulbs making it – in its raw state – more likely to absorb the pure energy of a telekinetic grip from the aether rather than move.

The People had only basic mining tools before, and even the Chiss methods were slow…but with these basals…

He felt the thin shatter point lines with the aether they were rough edges in his mind…he followed them along, gathered them up then gently poured the aether inside the cracks pressing them apart trying to avoid the blackstone sucking the aether away by being as precise as possible…

The Dovin Basals ‘hummed; as they detected the fractal lines opening.  Once the cracks were obvious they would latch onto the ultradense material, just as they did a celestial body to propel Vong ships, and pulled at the block wriggling it out.

It had taken some time to co-ordinate, but now six hours was down to half an hour per block.

Another slab, wide and jagged pulled free, again he guided it with the aether even as it sought to drain it from him.  Keeping his aetheric power from being consumed was what caused him the most exertion now, the hungry stone buried beneath a mountain for 45 million years rapacious for the energy and light it had been starved of for so long.

Soon it would be filled, enchanted properly, turned to armour, weapons, orbs, statues, tools, each infused with useful aetheric powers…

“Good next one!” he whispered

“If we may Avatar, the basal’s need rest,” one of the Extolled noted

Melron nodded

“Of course…” he summoned up his bladder to drink and gestured for the Extolled to do the same, excited for another time to learn and build the People even stronger as he sat under the glowing flies the Vong used for light.

They sat in a loose circle drinking and nibbling their odd foods,

“Now tell me…” he said to the oldest, a woman Yshee once a Priestess of sorts he got along well with, really she had no expertise in what they were doing here, but she was a font of what Melron was enjoying the most about their allies – the tales of their galaxy and gods. 

They might learnt their tactics from Yhum, technology from Reeda, farming methods from Dur…but from this priestess Melron would learn of the Extolled Soul.

He drew out his scroll and quill.

“..tell me another story of the Yuuzhan Vong People?”

<<<<>>>>

“That’s not much to go on…” Sofa noted irritated at the time it was taking.

Before her was an array of screens from every sensor on the Aertemisaea, her goal finding multiple ways to detect Vongs ships using their sensory suites.

The yorik coral of the vessels shielded the Vong from most thermal detection, the dovin basals could create singularities like an anti gravity well to prevent mass detection, and the radiation that did come off the yorik coral was of a queer type that appeared as little better than background radiation. 

Essentially, unless it moved, it appeared as a rock.

Adaea should be doing this… she grated, the savant like girl was busy with the Obelisk array and looking after Lydan in between, Sofa couldn’t begrudge her either of those tasks.

And Sofa had a very personal reason for wanting to make this work, she had been on the receiving end of a Vong ambush using one of their asteroid like Yorik-stronha – it was her first encounter with the Yuuzhan Vong at the time still ‘allied’ however loosely with Xithar – it had left her beaten and bruised and the Vong had been enough of a shock of unique tactics and weapons to knock Valens unconscious.

“OK…” she looked toward the ‘vilip’ a disgusting leathery thing twisted into the image of the even more hideous visage of the Extolled pilot in the Coralskipper floating in front of the Aertemisaea

“Try you engin…dovin basal…now…”

The pilot complied the dovin basal grasping with its gravity twisting tendril onto the Sun to propel its motion.

Sofa’s eyes and full six levels of consciousness scanned the vast array of read outs looking for changes to the base line she could use to detect the motion.

There were a few peaks here and there, she used the aether to tune a dozen small nobs increasing to decreasing sensitivity and other filtration options…the result seemed good…till she cross referenced to Chiss standardised stellar phenomena results scanning comparison chart and noted it was barely 5 per cent above what would normally be dismissed as a rogue comet.

“Frell!” she snapped angrily just as her iholo beeped with an alarm…

She knew she would crack it eventually…she had to…if they could detected a single coral skipper they could pickup larger craft all the more easily…but it was still a fiddly and frustrating path to get there.

She looked at the alert…maybe she could work out her frustration that way.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 28, 2020, 07:04:20 AM
Chapter 5 — Avatars and Acolytes — Part 3
Hunters
Come on do it!!

He didn’t…
Weak…

Kiraea snapped back her foot slamming the tattooed face to the wall, the covering tearing free on the jagged yorik coral edges to reveal the darker skin tone beneath.

The Vong warrior covered in the Ooglith Masquer to appear as an Extolled quickly retreated hurling thud bugs at her, the buzz of their tiny wings irritating…but not so much as the lack hits she’d endured.

They were meant to be training them just as they had been the men, but the Vong warriors – all male – seemed reluctant to strike them because they were women.

That more than irritated – it offended her,

Sofa was to the side pummelling the Voduun crab armour off a two metre tall warrior clearly working out some tension, Kassyndra tentatively sparring with another while Lyaea watched on, Milaea’s sparring partner was panting and near collapsing for the inability to strike her as she used all the moves Soryu had taught her to avoid being hit.

Kiraea took out her irritation and general disgust by round house kicking every face she could into the wall.

Yhum again looked down from above over the training pit, Kiraea spared him a glance while smashing another Extolled into the wall – she held her punches only to avoid outright killing – what she didn’t do was miss opportunities entirely.

At first she’d thought it might be reverence for Aethans as Avatars of the Gods, their willingness to hit the men due to their being Avatars of Yun-Yammka the war god who enjoyed a hard fight – but now she saw it was both more simple and more difficult to change than that.

The Extolled had come far no doubt to throw off their Caste system, but more needed to be done.

She didn’t even bother to look at the next attacker, simply staring up at Yhum. She ducked beneath an amphistaff thrust, pulled her stomach in to avoid a coufee stab, then backhanded the attacker into the floor.

“Tell your warrior to spar properly…” she yelled stepping onto her most recent victims back, 280 kilo’s of Aethan woman about to crush his bones.

Yhum just glared with a vicious smile over his lipless teeth

“..or come down here and…ouughhh!”

Her complaint was interrupted by the bludgeoning crack of an invisible fist into her spine.  Only her superhuman weight prevented her flying further.  She still managed to twist mid-air catching a glimpse of…

“Gah!” another blow struck her side on, she couldn’t see anything, feel anything, smell anything…

“Oh not those things….” Lyaea sighed

“What…” umpph…Kiraea took another hit, she was moving rapidly under the pure guidance of the aether rather than her own will to avoid more serious blows

“The Cloak of Nuun conceals almost all,” Yhum explained from above

“Our Hunters attack at any pause, any break, they will not relent or taunt,”

Kiraea grimaced at the reproach to her complaint, weaving against an inviable enemy trying to pick up eddies in the air, or some disruption from sound to pin their location.

Lyaea channelled experiences she and Adaea had with Hunters who had managed to capture her - the best way to draw them out was to overwhelm them with a rush of some kind of energy wave or…

Two massive chunks of yorik coral broke from the training rings edge and slammed millimetres past Kiraea on either side with wet meaty slaps as they hit her attackers.

The Vong might be dead in the aether, but there were ways around that – they might immune to being sensed or metaphysical attacks, but they still had mass, physical properties.

Milaea felt a cold rush as another attacker joined her dance of avoidance.

The weekly training session suddenly become much less rote as the Hunters began to strike at all of them.

Yhum had to raise his own skills to keep ahead of the Avatars, fortunately Dur had been grow more Cloaks of Nuun on the rich soils of the jungle isles, Reeda and the shapers adapting the flesh drooping sac like creature to grow on the Avatars world. 

The cloaks were stronger and healthier than any on the Fleet – whether because of adaptations needed to survive Aethas higher gravity and radiation, or simply growing on a real planet rather than crèche ship he could not tell, but suspected both.

Just one example among many of how things were…Revitalising living closer to the Avatars.  Access to real land and sea, real atmosphere fed their symbiont ships and bodies, no longer restricted to certain areas of the ship or afraid to speak to others of different castes fed their sense of unity, the presence of the Avatars of the Gods and New Path fed their souls. 

The Avatar women pooled their resources, no doubt using divine power to share knowledge and plans across minds much like a yammosk, Yhum reflected without them…he would still going system to system, making deals with wretched creatures for knowledge on communicable diseases of this galaxy, raiding for resources while their numbers bled with each engagement and vaccine experimentation.

All in the service of an Overlord and Priestly caste that sent them here knowing they would die for the ‘Glory of the Yuzzhan Vong’, to help the invasion of an Empire that treated a fifth of its population worse than dung while rulers play petty political games hoarding and coveting the finite resources of a fleet in the middle of the galactic void for want of anything else to do on the long voyage to damnation and defeat.

The battle below turned, the initial advantage of his cloaked warriors lost, secondary attacks now.  So it would be for the empire Yhum knew, their first attacks would take this Republic by surprise…it would not last.

Milaea Avatar of Yun’Harla made feints fast and lithe, her kin Kassyndra struck firmly against the attempt the hunter made to catch her granddaughter, Sofa and Lyaea hurled bodies, amphistaffs and thud bugs with uncanny accuracy, Kiraea danced around the edge having found a way to – if not completely detect – then at least locate the Hunters with a high degree of accuracy.

“Attack, Attack, Attack, will you be felled by half your number” he called shaming the weary warriors on the floor to rise again.

To be constantly on the attack was a strategy that worked if you destroyed you enemy completely in the first few waves…the longer the war went the worse the outcome would be.  This galaxy was just too big, its warriors too able.

A brief resurgence pushed the Avatars back, they were limiting the use of their powers, wise not to rely upon them, their native biology more than a match for any Yuuzhan Vong, even warriors with radank claw and subcutaneous biot implants.

The Avatars regrouped, Sofa, Avatar of Yun’Qaah the Lover Goddess at the fore now a coufee in each hand, feet barely touching the ground as she unleashed her frustrations upon the attackers, even holding her blows for training the damage was fierce.

“Awooooo” the Ghoor trumpet sounded to break the sparring the Avatar of Yun’shuno Lyaea assisting the fallen Extolled Hunter back up.

Kiraea stepped toward Yhum a wry smile finally on her face

“And here I was thinking you were all too scared to hit a girl,” she wiped the sweat from her brow, hair frizzy spilling from the bun it had been tied in.

“An enemy is an enemy…” Yhum noted “But you forgot my lesson…”

Kiraea displayed a quizzical look…seconds before another blow slammed her in the back.

“Our Hunters attack at any pause, any break, they will not relent or taunt,” Yhum repeated as she dodged the follow up and the training continued,

“In war there is no Ghoor trumpet that sounds a truce!” He added viciously charging at her himself finger nails dripping with toxins as the battle kicked off once more

“Attack…” Kiraea spat out rolling to her feet and hurling chucks of yoriks coral at him

“…Attack…Attack,”

<<<<>>>>

 
Theologians

“…unity…oneness complete,” The wispy aged voice was resonant in the rounded ‘temple’ like section of the Eversight as Milaea snuck in.

Even so Syyna Tosh, the Priest standing in from of the kneeling worshippers noted her arrival with a lipless grin.

“In perfection Yun-Yuzzhan the All Father existed, until the day in benevolence he tore his body asunder, the pain catalyst of creation as the Gods were formed from the severed pieces of his divine flesh.”

After a training session she came to listen and learn about the Yuzzhan Vong gods and mythology – some tales inspiring - the lover gods Yun-Txiin and Yun-Q’aah sacrificing themselves for their beloved in journeys to and from the underworld, some entertaining, Yun-Harla stealing the knowledge of creation from Yun-Yuzzhan gifting it to Yun-Ne’Shel the modeller, or playing pranks on Yun-Yammka…but the majority, like this story of cosmic creation were replete in glorification of ritualistic mutilation and suffering as conduit for life.

“He All, from the strength of his limbs Yun-Yammka, the keening of his mind Yun-Harla, the working of his fingers Yun-Ne’shel, the passion of his loins Yun-Txiian and Yun-Q’aah, the unity of his blood and gaze of his eyes that bind and look upon all his creations Yun-Shuno…and from the unfathomable intent of the Great Creator the hidden one in the dark Yun-Lingni.”

“All these were from the body of Yun-Yuzzhan, his benevolence, can one then be said to exceed the other!” his voice became booming as he hammered home the ‘new’ beliefs. 

“No they cannot, all children are of His flesh, and all His flesh was Holy, so it is Children…” the calmness and serenity returned to his tone, instructional without being patronizing

“…that we too are all of his flesh, and must not divide that flesh into castes, turn it against itself, for a body divided will not stand…So It Is Known!”

“So It is Known!” the chant of the worshippers echoed

“Now who brings offerings?” he asked drawing forth a coufee.

A woman stood up

“I give these three fingers,” she held up her hand, middle, index and little finger painted red

“To honour the Yun-Harla and her Avatar,” The woman looked toward her proudly.

Milaea’s stomachs dropped.

The ritual scarification and amputation was horrific. Jedi were taught tolerance of all religions and cultures – where they did not infringe on another beings rights – but these beliefs held a disgust deeper than she could hide – and for her to be associated with them as the ‘Avatar’, the living image of the god she would mutilate herself for…

“Come forth and be blessed,” Tosh held his arms wide, blades in both hands he showed his own chest, the ribs visible through pallid skin covered in newly inked tattoos – Yuuzhan Vong teachings surrounding murals of Lyaea, Jarys and Milaea herself as the living image of the Gods above, incision marks where he had organs ritually removed.

Milaea wanted to tell her no…yet she could only do so by asserting her ‘divine’ authority’ over them as Lyaea did, something Milaea could never morally do.  She could insist than another of the People issue the same order, but again that took advantage of the Extolled’s beliefs just as much.

And who was she to tell an adult what to do with their body, that their heartfelt beliefs were untrue? She couldn’t disprove the Vong Gods existence, and as Avatar of ‘Yun-Harla’ they would likely consider anything she said as trickery or a test.

So she said nothing, did nothing, she had at least the fortitude to at least watch the bloody results of her inaction and moral deadlock.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/kGjYTrW/Reeda-Kwn.jpg) (https://ibb.co/kGjYTrW)

She had swallowed her distaste transcribe the other cortices onto mechanical technology for the Avatars…

Held the bile in her mouth using machines until she became so inured they were just any other object.

Yet now Reeda Kwn felt faint and heady with terror and disgust.

The Qang qahsa, the living creature that stored the eight cortices of shaper knowledge had been faithfully replicated into machine readable data points through what would’ve been a blasphemous amalgam of a cognition hood and ‘Chiss’ neural-replication Virtual intelligence devices.

This was not what put her on the edge of despair.

The Qang qasha contained five prime cortices, accessible to all shapers, two inner ones only Master shapers used – the sum knowledge of protocols to create, modify and engineer all Yuuzhan Vong life forms, all this she had transitioned over long months with her assistants…

Then it came to the eighth, the final cortex.  Only the Supreme Overlord could permit access to the heart of the cortex as directed by the Gods.

Her own Avatars had directed her to open it.  For two days she had procrastinated fighting a life time of indoctrination to bring herself to break the taboo – Lyaea convincing her that the Avatars were a higher authority than any Supreme Overlord could ever be.

And now she found it was empty.

Completely empty.

Reeda feared the Gods would strike her down for transgression in accessing it…

She hoped it would be filled with divine inspiration to create marvels beyond imagination…she would’ve lived happily working to create new biotech to bring the Fleet to her swiftly and share the joyous news by displaying creations of magnificence the hierarchy could not deny.

Instead there was only absence – void clutched to her very soul that ate into her faith.

If this is false what else is untrue….

How many more idols were there to break?  The Caste system, the authority of the Empire and the Overlord, all her interdicts and anathemas in interacting with other races and mechanical technologies, and the one task she thought might provide a glimmer of certainty and affirmation of the Gods….

Cerebrospinal fluid dripped indifferent around her shaper hands as the cognition hood painfully ejected its neural spikes from deep in her cerebellum the connection the Qang Qasha cut off.

Why did she need such affirmation…did she not have in Lyaea, Milaea and the others the Yun’o’s living embodiments?

The more she came to know those she had herself proclaimed Avatars of the Gods the more she saw how fractured and imperfect they were…arrogant, avaricious…powers that seemed divine at first were not so unique to them, Reeda and the other Extolled’s liberation at their hands on reflection seemed less Divine deliverances that calculated strategy….

“Reeda…”

“Huh!” she snapped out of her reflections to the voice of the old shaper Tssaan Shai, he’d been only at the start of his career when he was Shamed but had learned quickly as needs grew once they arrived in this galaxy and the un-shamed shapers whittled away from native diseases.

“Reeda you seem perturbed…were you unable to access the Heart of the Qasha?”

She looked into his aged eye…only one still functional, the other still in need of replacement, the necessary biots still growing on Aethas.

His face bore innumerable scars from beatings, he walked with a limp from a hip injury when a young Warrior had indifferently pushed him from a narrow coral cause way into the garshal pits. 

What was she to say to this man with a face so expectant, who every day was among the most fervent knelt in prayers to Yun’Shuno as embodied by a Villip representation of Lyaea for delivering him from Shame….

“The Qasha was….”

He expected like she did another miracle…another sign of faith….

“Closed to me…to all of us…until worthy…” she adlibbed

He didn’t feign his shock, the other shapers in ear shot came to listen

“Worthy? What revelation is this?”

The eyes were all on her now waiting for her to guide them…she had taken charge so easily that day they met Lyaea, she had been so certain of the truth of the revelation…now…

“I…must consult with the Avatar…”

<<<<>>>>

“Belek Tui!!!” the three Extolled near bashed their heads on the ground as Milaea walked past along worn yorik coral limbs numb after the ‘ritual’ that saw three Extolled offer body parts to her.

The translation of Belek Tui was command me, something in the fear of how easily she could do so finally snapped and she knelt down trying to lift them up.

“Please you don’t have to prostrate yourself every time I walk past,”

The woman at the head of the trio blinked from her deep set eyes, tattoos over thin weary skin as she breathed through the nose less slits in her face.

“These ones live to honour you oh Trickster, deceiver of the Yun’Yuuzhan, master of duplicity,”

There is just no getting through to them is there….nothing will change until I make it change

“Well…” she cringed at the thought of what she was about to do, and more that she hadn’t done it ten minutes before.

“Then this is my command, you will tell everyone that I have a new trick to play, whenever you see an Avatar,” the words were cloggy to speak for their falsity

“You will treat them not as a God to venerate or bow to, but merely another of the Extolled, deserving of respect but not unthinking obedience.”

The other two passed a look between them, the front woman looked back to the others

“Does this injunction include your august self Avatar?”

“It does,”

“Then we shall comply,” the woman said standing up

“…and we shall go about our previous chores?”

Milaea offered a slight nod, her head light with regret and the levity that came from finally taking action – however wrong and the irony of commanding them not to obey her dancing dissonance through her mind.

<<<<>>>>

Avatar of Yun’shuno lay languidly feet propped up on a coral settee soft with yov-sponges that served as cushions, her fingers tapping long her ‘iholo’ device as foul music- to Reeda’s ear – blared about while ‘bubble gum’ popped from her glistening red lips.

“What’s up,” Lyaea sighed still checking her social feeds not looking at the Extolled woman

“Avatar…” the word seemed inappropriate for this all too…petty being before her.

“I have nearly completed the transfer of the vaa tumour…but there is…”

“Just get to it already,” Lyaea sighed irritated her back still scratching from a few wounds in the last training session and the constant stench of the Extolled ship.

“The Qang Qasha is empty, there is no eighth cortex…or it appears empty to my sight, what is the meaning of this Avatar?”

Reeda kept her stance firm in contrast to the languid Avatar

“Are the other cortices uploaded?”

She cares only for the information, not for the implications of this truth…indeed she doesn’t even know what it means…how can she be an Avatar of our Gods and yet so ignorant…

“It is done Avatar…but….”

Now Lyaea snapped up faster than Reeda could blink and was beside her a warm smile as she got what she wanted

“Good I’ll take them immediately,”

I’ve been ignorant…so desperate for hope, to escape my torture I called the first being to show any kindness toward me a God…and Avatar…

As Lyaea headed to the Shapers damutek Reeda saw her, finally truly saw her.

This was not the Avatar of the Yun’o, this was a petty, selfish and manipulative young woman whom Reeda in her despair had foisted her hopes upon.  Without a doubt the Aethans were powerful, incredibly so, but this was not divine gift, this was merely biotechnology and the ‘Force’.

The scales fell, Reeda Kwn had made an enormous mistake and pledged herself and the rest of the Extolled to false gods.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 28, 2020, 07:08:02 AM
 
Chapter 5 — Avatars and Acolytes — Part 4

Meditations

“Shaper…Reeda…” Yhum said rising from the harsh floor as the sphincter door was slid open.

“What brings you here?”

“Yhum…” the shaper looked visibly distressed, trembling even.

“I fear…I know…I...they are not Gods, they are not even Avatars…I was mistaken…”

Yhum stood his full height subcutaneous bone growths clicking as he did so.

“Mistaken…no we have all witnessed their glory, Yun Harla turning from fire to ice, Yun –Yammka…”

“Striking down a dozen warriors in a dozen seconds, summoning lightening from their hands, twisting time and freezing the Jeedai - I know the creeds and tales I wrote many myself….but it was all wrong…these powers are not unique, those Sith creatures and Jeeedai had them, their biology is the product of design much like all our biots, they are selfish, they are using us to prepare for the invasion, to gain advantage over their enemies with our technology and strategy they…”

She stopped as the fury of a true Warrior crossed Yhum’s face

“BLASPHEMER!” his body shook with righteous rage

“The Avatars have delivered us from ignorance, taught us the TRUE PATH, bringing you out of Shame, myself out of senseless violence and obedience to the False Overlord and Priests!”

His radank claw hand twitched with barely controlled rage, connected directly to his sympathetic nervous system is longed for the fight his hormones were preparing for.

“Were it not for Their teaching on kindness, compassion, forgiveness I would strike you down for your insults!”

What have I done…it’s too late…they all believe too strongly…

“They have liberated us from falsehood, our debt to them is ETERNAL, I assist them as a pleasure, I am Honoured to be so close to the GODS,” he strode forward the size and strength of his muscular body insignificant compared to the zealous fury in his eyes.

“Would you return to ignorance, where we shame and exploit our own, where we are pawns of nobles and clans petty disputes?”

“I do not deny they have brought much good, taught us a better way to live…but the Sons of Kessel who fought beside us preached the same, neither their teaching nor their powers are unique!”

“Perhaps not,” Yhum’s arms crossed against his heaving chest, a physical manifestation of a closed mind.

“A warrior understands in war, no matter preparation, much depends on variables in the hands of the Gods alone, the Avatars came at the critical junction, the perfect instant with their teaching and powers. That is proof enough for me,”

“It could’ve been anyone who helped us! Random chance we intersected when we did!”

“Your words turn from blasphemy to atheism! If all is chance and random what role for the Gods at all? Is this the truth of your complaint? You forsake the Yun’o entirely after they have done so much for you!”

“I…I…” she staggered away leaning on the wall of support, Yhum remained unmoved

Her head was ablaze with argument and counter argument, Yhum’s position was clear, it was the will of the God’s they meet when they did and reveal the Path, how then could their saviours not be Avatars as she herself had declared.

But the closer she was to the Avatars…their rapacious demand for training and knowledge…

“I…my faith is shaken…I don’t know where to turn,”

In a scene unimaginable two years ago Yhum knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back in support.

“Much has changed quickly, the path difficult…a good Warrior knows it is beneficial for his inferiors to voice doubts to his strategy to refine and improve it as you have done, but this does not change the goal of the campaign only the means of its success,”

He helped her up, old scarred face close to hers

“It is no shame to doubt in one’s mind but do not let it affect your actions…go rest, I will not mention this brief moment of doubt again,”

<<<<>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/1T6Wz3g/M-thinking.jpg) (https://ibb.co/1T6Wz3g)
“This needs to stop, whatever they owe us for liberating them they have repaid a dozen times over!”

“This isn’t a trade, they are our friends, and friends help each other,”

“Not like this, we are taking their knowledge, their resources, their faith

“And protect them in turn, Milaea you know how much the Chiss want to get their hands on them…and they would not be so collaborative as we are…any way they want to serve us we are their Avatars”

The two youngest women of the People sat across from each other in the war room of the Aertemisaea as they prepared to deliver the Extolled’s digital version of their Qang qasha - safely locked in multiple copies – to Aethas without delay.

“Pretending to be their gods is abhorrent” Milaea’s voice resolute with a Jedi Knights surety

“Who is pretending?,” Lyaea smiled in return held the unquestioned confidence of a woman raised to believe herself divine

“We Are Goddesses, if their Gods and Ours have come to an agreement who are we to question it,”

“You cannot know that for certain”

“Nor can you disprove it, have you no Faith?”

Again Lyaea proved herself a formidable debater…if anyone was representative of the Trickster Yun-Harla it ought to be her Milaea thought.

“Faith is not necessary,” the reply was cool “The Goddesses are real beings, they interact with us and the planet,”

“Exactly!”

Milaea realised she had just fallen into Lyaea’s trap,

“Faith is believing what you know ain’t real, By their power the Goddesses have hidden us from the Jedi, defeated the Sith, and brought us together with the Extolled to prepare us for the next war when it comes. All evidence the Goddesses want us to do this…”

Lyaea summoned over one of the copies of the Vong’s qasha in the form of a sleek cylindrical Chiss nano-net data drive,

“…and have this to develop defences, enhance ourselves ever closer to perfection,”

“At what price? Pretending to be deities, effectively enslaving the Extolled?”

“They work with us not for us, what else do they have to do, they cannot return, would be executed if they did, if they leave the Chiss will track them”

It was only that Valens swiftly moving to declare the Extolled and Sons of Kessel third Party allies to the Aethans, that the treaty with the Chiss kept them safe…so long as they remained in the Aethas System.

“True though that may be we can’t keep them as pets and workers, what does that make us? No better than their Overlords and Priests”

“So what is your alternative?”

Despite her relaxed posture Milaea knew Lyaea was irritated at her ‘moralising’ of this issue. 

“I…I don’t know….I need to consider it…”

Lyaea moved her mouth as if about to speak, but held back…

Something in the leadership of the People needed to change, Valens could not remain primus inter pares for long in a matriarchal society and of the women only Lyaea or Milaea were suited to that role, for now both, for different reasons, unable to take the role fully…the treatment of the Extolled could well be the flashpoint that forced a resolution.

“Well while you think I’m going to act to ensure the People prosper,” Lyaea finished more than a hint of criticism in her voice.

<<<<>>>>

Another week passed and the Avatars returned for their training.

Yhum held a group session, the men and the women against a Yammosk controlled force, the tentacle creature linking two dozen warriors telepathically against the eight Avatars armed with only basic weapons.  The battle was an even one that ended in a minor victory for the Extolled and stirred the Avatar’s fascination in the mechanisms of Yammosk control.

Maeson and Dur loaded and prepared a number of ambi-sacs full of seedlings and Losh-vat grown immature fauna for transport to the planet along with the first corals seeds to plant damuteks for Dur and the other ‘gardeners’ to stay on the planet proper while attending to the ecosystem recovery.

The first plans for the excavation of Mount Veilaea were drawn up using stick insect like stylus on film like taught skins of dor-octopi that retained the memory of dozens of diagrams inscribed upon their shifting skin.

Sofa finally managed a break through in isolating coral skippers apart from comets and asteroids by cracking the unique neutrino spectrum refraction of yorik coral that could be detected

All this washed past Reeda Kwn as she went about her tasks in a haze, helping with each of these as Master shaper, attending Tosh sermons gazing vacantly as more flesh was offered up to the false Avatars.

The only thing she recalled from the whole week was a few speaking about how the Avatar of Yun-Harla was insisting they not treat her or other Avatars with awe or bow…Tosh musing on what kind of trick Yun-Harla might be playing.

It was some time toward the end of their weekly visit she stumbled unfocused in the corridor,

“Apologies I…” she looked up to the flaming red hair and pristine white skin of the Avatar of Yun-Harla

“Avatar…” she stumbled you her knees by reflex “My apologies”

As much as Milaea struggled with Vong facial expressions beneath the tattoo’s and scarring she could tell Kwn was distraught.

“No trouble at all…are you alright do you need help?”

“I…I am well Avatar…” she stammered even as her shaper hands trembled, various ‘tool’ like digits twitching

Milaea pressed the issue

“You are not ‘well’…is there someone I can get to help you, or speak with?”

Reeda looked at the genuine concern on her face, the earnestness even she could feel from Milaea,

“My malady…is one of the mind I have…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper

doubts,

“How far are your quarters?”

<<<<>>>>

The numbness of the past week was the cap upon the eruption.  Milaea needed to give few assurances of confidence for her to express her deep seated misgivings. 

“…our traditions, our culture, or way, all this I’ve abandoned because I believed the Gods spoke to me through Lyaea, through yourself, but if you are not the Avatars of the Gods then…then….”

Her head dropped in shame as she sat upon the hard coral bench.

“Then I have betrayed the Gods and dragged others into the depths of my delusional sin….”

Soryu would know what to say, Milaea knew, how to soothe and support this woman.  But Soryu wasn’t here, she was, and this was wrong.

With a calming breath Milaea gathered her thoughts.

“Did you ever consider that these beliefs, this awakening to a new path was not something you learnt from Lyaea, but something that had grown within you?”

Reeda glanced up puzzled

“You were Shamed because you thought that your role as Shaper, given by the Gods, implored you to compassion toward the shamed, to raise them up, to Extol them years before you met Lyaea. When you met her on the Demagol the beliefs you had already developed were catalysed by Lyaea asking you to release yourself, she didn’t put those ideas there, she just gave you the prompt and opportunity to finally act on them, Reeda,”

Milaea placed her hands on both the Yuuzhan Vong woman’s shoulders raising her up.

You were the one who Extolled yourself and the others, the Shamed didn’t follow Lyaea because she can throw lighting from her fingers, they followed you because you had tried to help them, you had been their light in the depths of shame and you told them to fight and follow her, if anyone is the Avatar of Yun’Shuno it is you,”

Milaea’s intent was to emulate what she had seen Soryu do for others – to show them that the compassion and justice was not the Jedi’s, or in Reeda’s case and ‘Avatars’, to dispense, it already lived in each individuals heart they just had to find it in themselves….

”One of the best lessons you can give Mili,” Soryu had smiled in the midst of a hurricane on the fringes of the southern Corellian continents wrecked shanty town as nobles muddied their finery in helping clear the mess
“Is to show people the power of kindness and compassion is in them, was with them the whole time. Sometimes they just need to see it in action to remember that,”


But she had not accounted fully for Yuuzhan Vong culture.

Reeda looked only more aghast, face all but pallid.

“Then I have lead the others into blasphemy…Lyaea and yourself idol upon which I attributed divinity because your beliefs mirrored my own errors!”

This was not going as Milaea expected…what would Soryu, Odjina, or Yoda say? What would they do?

No…what would I do…

“I know what it’s like,” Milaea said firmly as her grip that kept Reeda from collapsing to the coral floor.

“To have gone so far down a path believing you were so right then suddenly realise all this time you were wrong, chasing your own fears and anxieties while the real dangers toy with you…but this isn’t what this is Reeda!”

Milaea wanted to shake her, to use the aether to force her understanding into her mind…but she couldn’t and wouldn’t if she could.

“Look at what you’ve done, Warriors, Shapers, Shamed now one People, united as they should be, you’ve created the Peace the Overlords promised. Even if this isn’t the will of the Gods does it make it wrong?”

The two women from radically different cultures united by the same doubts about their role in their Peoples future stared into each other’s eyes seeking answers for who they should be.

“No…” Reeda finally said

“It is Right, whether the Gods ordained…” her shaper hand with its many digits swept to encompass the whole situation

“…this or not…”

“We cannot know the will of the Gods, or through whom they do…” Reeda offered a slight smile to Milaea

“..or do not speak,” her tone was icy perhaps a barb to the absent Lyaea

“You can only act on what is in your heart, perhaps there is something in bring the castes together,” Milaea agreed

“In reuniting the body of Yun-Yuzzhan from which new creation can be brought forth,”

“Yes…yet…where do I go from here…the others believe with such ferocity…they have seen and experienced their own signs, I can’t begrudge them that even if my faith will change…”

Reeda strode to the currently sleeping villip choir, a sweep for her fingers turning it to four dozen heads twisting to others in turn showing all three hundred and eighty Extolled aboard the Eversight

“We are not enough to set up a colony in exile…”  she paused considering

“Serving your People Ava…Milaea gives us focus and purpose for now…but….”

Milaea stepped behind her

“You need to follow your own path eventually…we already have the equatorial isles set aside for you, you can live there rather than ship, safe from the Chiss at least…”

eventually was the key word, whatever her compassion for the Extolled and desire to free them from their delusion that the Aethans were gods, Milaea could still not break the thumping instinctual  need to make sure she did everything she could to benefit the People first and foremost.

“…continue to work together, in healing and enhancing Aethas ecosystems, and learning and training together we will both benefit greatly…then perhaps in a few years you can look at trying to grow a new villip choir capable of communicating with main fleet…to Preach the new Path to them, or grow an new vessel, the Eversight won’t last for much longer I recall you saying…by then the Chiss may not even be defending Aethas anymore,”

Reeda nodded, it was a reasonable plan until she could get her thoughts and beliefs in her own mind clear…and work out a way to gently turn the Extolled away from their worship of the Aethans.

Turning back she faced Milaea not with the cowering of a mortal before a Goddess, but as an equal for the first time, back straight head held high.

“Agreed…but we must work out a way to communicate this… Tssaan Shai and the other shapers have been asking what of the eighth cortex…”

“It’s emptiness is a theological problem isn’t it?” Milaea deduced

“It is…all knowledge was said to be from the Gods, complete and intact in the qasha access given by the Overlord as the Gods representative…we’ve cast off the overlord and the qasha is empty…the Overlords power over the shapers was built on sand more than I suspected…when I found it empty I said something off hand, that it was closed until I was worthy….”

Milaea’s advanced cognition instantly struck upon a solution.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 28, 2020, 07:09:29 AM
Chapter 5 — Avatars and Acolytes — Part 5

Good Works

The morning sun rose over the steaming humid jungle as three hundred and eighty Yuuzhan Vong stood upon the mulchy ground, on rocks, fallen logs – wherever there was room before the area was partially cleared.

For most it was the first time they had ever set foot on a terrestrial world, the sky above had loomed a troubling presence to those used to the finite ceilings of yorik coral.

“…This shall be our home, on the World of the Avatars while we work, learn, and heal our culture…” She nodded to Dur in the front row.

“…and this world,”

 Reeda’s voice carried conviction Milaea knew was not supported by her true beliefs.

They stood before the assembly, all the ‘Avatars’ flanking Reeda, Yhum and Tosh as they explained the new step in the True Path.

“We will help protect the Avatars home from the unbelievers in this Galaxy, teach them our ways in turn, uniting long disparate pieces of Yun-Yuuzhan…”

Reeda glanced to Tosh, who, with some insistence from Milaea and Lyaea, now accepted zealously the modifications their belief system, while this was the first time it would be said to the Extolled as a whole, they knew his preaching would be needed to seal it in coming months.

“For all species, regardless of origin are part of Yun-Yuzzhan’s creation, his blood and body forged by pain – we glory in the diversity of his creatures as they were made by him and seek to bring them into peace and accord – a body divided cannot stand!”

Murmurs and shock swept through the assembly, to include other species as ‘children of the Gods’ was a complete inversion of all the Priests on the Fleet had taught and implicit condemnation of ritual mutilation..

“The proof of this, declared by the Avatar of Yun’Ne’shel’s Avatar,” she waved toward Adaea co-opted for the occasion.

“That the eighth cortex of the Qasha, the divine knowledge, is withheld until the day all Yuzzhan Vong acknowledge the True PATH!”

Reeda drew on her past fierce belief to power her through words she did not truly believe, Milaea impressed at how convincing it was.

“We must find a way to communicate our revelations back to the main Fleet, so when they arrive they come not as invaders but pilgrims upon the True Path to this place where the Avatars of the Gods walk among us!”

There was a pause, and for a fatal moment Reeda feared the neat solution Milaea and she had forged to address their mutual issues might unravel…

“Tchurokk Yun'tchilat!” one shaper yelled

“Tchurokk Yun'tchilat!” another and another joined the chant, Yhum nearly deafening Reeda by joining in right beside her, Tosh following.

A sense of relief flooded Milaea at last, in many ways the status quo was maintained, though the Extolled now had a planet side home in exchange for their knowledge, biotech and labour, a focus outside serving their ‘Avatars’, and Milaea at least some hope if one could realize they were not divine the others might too in time.

And yet

Milaea’s gaze flitter across the three Extolled to Lyaea beside Tosh, a smile on her face seeming to patronize the fervent chants of the Extolled before her.

In the end she had done what she had berated Lyaea for, used the Aethan’s ‘divine authority’ through a troubled Reeda to achieve a result that made Milaea feel less morally uncomfortable…and still delivered the People what they wanted.

Lyaea quickly met her gaze with a winning grin. 

She had known Milaea would come round, she could not long deny her Goddess given Glory, and with each day Milaea bathed in the warm embrace of the Goddesses and community of the People more and more pesky Jedi morals washed away.

“Tchurokk Yun'tchilat!” the chant continued - 'Witness the Will of the Gods'

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on April 28, 2020, 04:52:27 PM
Very interesting.   I find it fascinating how the People guide and encourage the Vong to give up their caste system and rigid societal structure, all the while reinforcing their own.  That cognitive dissonance is going to backlash at some point.   Probably very badly...

For all that the details of the societies, even the way Melron used three of the dovin basals to mine blackstone...   they're all fascinating.  Nicely done! 


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 29, 2020, 11:01:37 PM
Talk about a case of "never meet your heroes"...or perhaps "avatars"  ;)  Poor Reeda: she's a stranger in a strange land surrounded by strangers suffering an existential crisis the likes of which could lead to insanity...or worse.  And while Mili's "bandaid" has (somewhat) assuaged those concerns, something of such monumental importance isn't likely to give up the ghost that easily...

...After all, I don't remember reading anything about the Extolled in the current timeline (but then again, that just may be a matter of focus).

It's too bad, the chapter starts off full of hope: the possibility of a heterogeneous culture that would undoubtably enrich both the Vong as well as the Aethans...but of course, reality must set in, ESPECIALLY when you consider that BOTH adhere to such strict xenophobic ideologies.  Karm's assessment is spot-on:

I find it fascinating how the People guide and encourage the Vong to give up their caste system and rigid societal structure, all the while reinforcing their own.  That cognitive dissonance is going to backlash at some point.   Probably very badly...
EXACTLY!  And in this case, they might as well be obverse sides on the same coin where their cultures are concerned.

BUT that's what makes this chapter such a great read: there are just too many serpents within this lush garden to address; worse: ignore.  Yet, I think that Mili's revelation that the entrenched ad hominem logic that the Aethans follow will lead to further conflict.

Brilliant writing LSG!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 08, 2020, 01:21:03 AM
 
Chapter 6 — Where the Heart is — Instinct — Part 1

The Guardians

They met at the top of Mount Aelia, the summit remaining natural despite the extensive fortress within. 

The snowy winds swept about the last four Guardians of the Old Way here to discuss the training of the New.

“Well who teaches who?” Kiraea asked bluntly of Valens, Jarys and Melron

The old system of a select group of Guardians was not functional in the new environment – all had to be trained to the highest standard they could reach to protect themselves and the People.

This had already begun with Adaea and Lyaea trained mostly by Melron and Kiraea, but also Valens on occasion. 

Now they had six more to train, Selaena and Maeson had been informally taught much by Jarys during their time with the Sons, the focus there would be less combat techniques than emotional fortitude.

Sofa and Milaea similarly had substantive training in Jedi arts, but lacked the…ferocity…that People needed. 

All four had also completed a full 18 month course in the Chiss Academy with them, they were beyond highly trained by any standard, the lessons needed remove psychological barriers to their potential and teach control of the instinctual state of Aephrodaea’s Grace, a hormonal influx that dissolved mental barriers between their conscious levels and eliminated unnecessary thought processes, supressing even the vague red sensation that passed for pain in Aethans and diverted all  cellular resources to a physiological fight state.

On top of this were Kassyndra and Lydan – Kassyndra never a warrior, but maternal protectiveness could be used to catalyse aggression and she had shown rapid advances training with the Vong every second week.  Lydan, whilst physically and aetherically capable was always a quiet type to start off with, his traumas only making it worse.

These thoughts mingled in the group mind as they assessed their own limitations as teachers – Melron was oldest but still beset by his own struggles feeling inadequate at times, Valens whilst the most powerful and knowledgeable was a brilliant student but not a natural teacher and struggled to communicate lessons effectively, Kiraea lacked the patience needed at times….

Jarys best combined the power, experience and patient demeanour necessary, but he could not teach everyone, and to do so was not desirable as it reduced variety and opportunities for innovation.

This was also a special case in that they were all adults – the Jedi system of Mutual Apprenticeship, seldom practiced anymore, offered an example of how to proceed.

A consensus began to form, Guardian training was traditionally undertaken within families and was a very mutual process, each grew with the other over years, to get the People up to speed in this dangerous galaxy they needed to adapt some Jedi methods of formalised instruction.

“hmmm….” Kiraea was the first to breath out, thin air leaving a vapour trail, of course they hardly needed to breath more than once every few hours, and despite the sub zero temperatures were perfectly comfortable in only light clothing given the near perfect insulation a honeycombed fatty layer beneath their hyper-keratin skin provided.

“That is an unusual choice….” She noted

“We need to avoid the obvious ones...” Melron agreed with the consensus “There is much to innovate with…Morgukai, Vong, Sith and Jedi techniques….adding that extra layer of variance can only make the results even more unique.”

“I think you just want to avoid it altogether…” Kiraea accusation directed at Valens
“…afraid to get rough with your mate?”

Valens didn’t supress the irritation on his face

“You think setting the final task is easier for me?”

There was always a final task before completion of training, to be set by an independent Guardian – of course with so few of them it was nigh impossible – but if Valens was less able to be anyone’s main teacher he would at least be sufficiently clever…not to say merciless…with his final trials.

“Fine,” Kiraea huffed out, “Let’s get started,”

<<<<>>>>

Maeson

(https://i.ibb.co/z8KQ0Gb/Maes-R-3.png) (https://ibb.co/z8KQ0Gb)
The air was unusually humid, rainfall still not quite settled into a regular pattern following the upper atmosphere terraforming – made all the more moist by the sweat on both of their bodies amidst the dripping foliage.

They were undressed apart from loin cloths, bodies red and purple with bruises as Gosalam watched on indifferently – millennia before they had been ysalamiri until taken by the Aethan Technocracy, genetically modified, selectively bred in queer competitive pressures to create the Gosalam, a ‘better’ version – they could not only supress the aether like ysalimiri, but also use it as a directional weapon – essentially ‘shooting’ a null field over up to 20 metres to disable a Vorynx of Vorsis aetheric tracking abilities – many Guardians had tried to learn this from the animals, and whilst they could create the null fields around themselves even Old Andis hadn’t been able to find a way to weaponise at range – yet - Melron intended to be the first one day.

But today was not that day.

Today he beat Maeson bloody as he was pummelled in turn, every few blows they would shift styles in the null field of the Gosalam.  One moment Maeson would strike with a Morgukai Djen-Sha-Ke blow, Melron would respond with Keshiri-Sith counter, Maeson breaking out with a Sons of Kessel CQC hold-break.

Without the aether they had only their natural strength and speed – that in itself was prodigious compared to the majority of outsiders and had saved them more than once…indeed without their unique biology they would not have survived at all – More reason to carefully hone it.

Maseon did well, his blows were firm, made maximum use of opportunities wasting no energy with flourishes or feints – the latter was something Melron would need to work on, Maeson had learned from the Sons, Jarys and most recently the Vong a strong direct approach to combat, but whereas Jarys had the brute force and endurance to back up such blunt assaults and mingled it expertly with stealth – delivering extreme blows without warning - Maeson did not, a failing to be corrected.

But first…there was a deeper flaw to correct.

A twisting double low kick forced Maseon to leap up, Melron rapidly spun up to slam him in the chest, a combo learnt from the Vong warrior Yhum.

Maseon simply grunted and responded with a more traditional hook jab combo.

“You’re still alive,” Melron noted between meaty smacks against his chest.

Maeson didn’t respond uncertain whether it was a taunt or question.

Instead it was a statement of fact.

Maeson was an efficient fighter, diligent and able aetheric manipulator if currently slightly below average in aetheric endurance which would improve with training – but his motions, his actions were all lacking - he got the job done -no more. This Melron needed to address before he could work on anything else.

“You’re family is dead,” he breathed into his pupil ear as they locked arms

“But you’re not,”

Again Maeson didn’t react.

“I know how it feels, to lose so much, to want to just give up, do the bare minimum, it’s what I did for too long…” Melron admitted openly sweat running down from his brow as he tried to trip his pupil, earning only a solid knee in the groin.

“You did well on Ord Mirit, protected the women as is fitting…but you need to carry that drive with you even when they aren’t in danger….”

Maesons mouth twitched as if to speak, instead he shifted his weight backward trying to throw Melron, but he broke the grip and flipped back, never missing a beat he jumped back to spring board off a heavy tree at him again.

“…You need to admit you didn’t die with them, that you are going to go on living,” his words were timed with each punch he threw, Maeson blocking but too low to counter attack.

Finally Melron connected with Maesons face sending him staggering back – but instead of a fury driven retaliation he simply crouched indifferently.

Landing fully Melron looked down on him

“I was like that once…a Morgukai…an outsider pitied me….that was my moment when I Knew Myself as the Lady of Wisdom enjoins…the women need your protection…”

Maeson looked up from the ground only to be met with a heavy slap from Melron across his face.

“You’re not getting up till you acknowledge you do have things to live for, even after all you…we…have lost.”

Maeson felt weighed down, he was a simple man and such things as this hit him harder for it…

He thought about Ord Mirit…the vision the Sith had forced on him, watching his orchard and his family burn….in a sick way he missed it – they might be burning to death in the dream but at least he felt he was with them as it had happened.

Yet Melron was right that way lay nothing but despondency and death for himself…and the others.

Maesons cheek stung from an insultingly dismissive slap.

Bursting up faster than the air could displace he smashed the older Guardian in the nose, the bone cracking underneath his hand, hot blood spurting from Melron’s nostrils.

Melron didn’t fall as the red blaze of sensation assailed him, his stance to firm.

He smiled as the blood trickled down

“We’re not dead…” Maeson finally spoke words and mind cold as ice as he finally attained the Instinctual state that had for too long been the preserve of the Guardians alone

“Just wounded…”

Melron nodded, now he could start.

<<<<>>>>

Selaena
(https://i.ibb.co/xJzpNKR/Sel-1.png) (https://ibb.co/xJzpNKR)
Grey dust of the steppe filled her nose – not normally a problem it was becoming a nuisance – running, dodging and fighting for three hours she had to breath it in as oxygen ran low, her bodies ability to recycle carbon dioxide and power cellular respiration powered by radiation already at its limits.

Jarys hurled balls of pure energy at her from high above experimenting with an attack Valens witnessed Yoda perform turning aetheric lighting to a sort of ‘ball’ that could strike harder over a small area than an arc which attempted more pinpoint accuracy.

He was also experimenting with ‘Force Flight’ – seeing how long he could stay levitated and at what speeds he could move, advanced vestibular systems made it relatively easy to control but the aetheric drain was noticeable after twenty minutes.

His endless attempts to hit her she could understand, it forced her to move quickly, to use the aether, but more importantly her own tactical assessment to predict his next move, and avoid getting trapped in a dead end canyon as they sped around rocky outcrops, but the dismissive nature of his experimenting while training irked her.

Jarys could feel the fury rising, frustration, rage, hatred…Selaena had so many reasons to feel such…they all did…but as Karintha said – to be angry is easy – to be angry at the right time, in the right way at the right person…that was hard.

Skidding round a pile of boulders Jarys dismissively kicked the middle one from his levitating pose to knock the rest toward her, she effortlessly strafed the impact but caught a glowing aether blast on her shoulder.

The white cold burn leached past her already ragged outfit, leaving another patch of burnt skin.

Teeth gritted, hands instinctively unleashed a torrent of flaming azure – the blaze struck and twisted around Jarys before being flung back as another ball of energy.

Her own rage turned against her doubled it  Bounding forward she slashed like a Vorynx with her nails – with grace and speed that belied his size Jarys wove out of her path.

Again and again he just managed to avoid her by mere millimetres, her fury rising and rising with – and still Jarys seemed to have an air of…boredom

She pulled back as a dismissive carpet of lighting lit the dusty ground, her feet danced in the ethereal flames, he barely looked in her direction.

Completely incensed she let loose, allowing her annoyance and rage to fill her to the brim, her body tingling as her heart squeezed.

Rushing forward she summoned up dozen of tiny rocks to provide a screen of detritus to hammer him from all sides and cover her advance.

Jarys kept his face expressionless as she finally reached a decent level of anger…still imperfect

A hundred small rocks bombarded him at 50 kmph not enough to breach the skin but forcing him to create a solid telekinetic shield. 

Through the rocks shattering into sand against his shield face red with hate, eyes blue with energy, exhausted fists and legs flying rapidly powered by the aether twice her normal speed, with strength that would shatter the greysleet of the glacier dropped boulders all around.

Such fury was wasted as he wove, mind clear, calculating her next movements.

The more she tried the more she failed.  The more she failed the more frustrated she became, and the more frustrated she became the more she failed in a downward cycle of defeat.

Jarys was beginning to wonder if this was even the best way to achieve what he needed to teach.  As was the case with most of the others, their limitations were not in terms of skills or strength but focus and refinement. 

This was understandable, they had not been trained as Guardians since child hood as he had…but they needed to be better, to reach a state of self-mastery equal to if not greater than that possessed by the most capable Jedi and Sith…if not they would fall to them.

Her energy spent wastefully on a blinding flurry of attacks, physical, aetheric and mental, Selaena’s limbs began to tremble with exhaustion.

A simple move, side stepping an elbow Jarys simply gripped her throat and lifted her up, her limbs flopping like a dolls as he pressed her weary mind in on itself.

“Useless, weak…this is why your children suffered, this is why you were taken and abused…and why you will be again…”

Now for the final stab

“And why Lyaea and Lydan will be taken again…because you cannot protect them,”

Selaena remained silent, hanging like a corpse a meter above the ground as the skin around her neck bruised from his grip.

Inside her rage switched from red fire to cold hate. 

The threat to her children combined with the exhaustion and existing cocktail of combat hormones to trigger something she had never truly experienced firsthand. 

Aertemisin, Aephrodaesin, unique hormones created by the Technocracy squeezed from glands all over her body into her blood stream. 

Aertemisin - among dozens of supporting effects on her secondary and tertiary sympathetic nervous systems - locked onto muscles stimulating macrophages to double their clearing of waste products and stimulate contraction more smoothly,
Aephordaesin shut down various cortices, disabling sensations of pain – phsycial and mental to plunged the mind into an emotionless state as the hormone locked in all receptors almost eliminating a sense of ‘self’ – memories, skills, and experiences served as input for a body that would act on pure instinct.

Unable to be reasoned, dissuaded or manipulated.  It was no longer Selaena per se but a body serving the People Jarys had just threatened.

And most powerfully of all currents of the aether flooded her every cell, refilling her with burning raw energies to use as she saw fit.

A blast from her drooping body blew Jarys an easy 30 metres and smashed him deep into the canyon rock.

Selaena – if she could be called that – landed into a run straight at him.

Finally!

He dodged- barely - her fist broke not only the rock were his head had just been but likely a bone in her hand as well.

This was the state he had been in when the Jedi had surrounded him and Kiraea on Myrkr, that Valens had been in as he fought first Jo’Set’Mack, then Yoda, then Lucovis. 

Aephrodaea’s Grace only activated if sufficiently aroused by imminent threats, it enabled them to fight to the very last with clarity and power beyond their normal reach without the distraction of pain or aetheric overuse – for a time.

He raised his arms to block her strikes, they hit like grav hammers, fast, brutal, efficient no longer wasting an ounce of energy, each matched by a precision metaphysical dagger and phase shifting to distort his senses. 

All her knowledge and experience was perfectly integrated and powered enough to cause him to feel genuine danger.

This was what he needed, fist get her in that state then teach her then how to use it  at will.

In his own mind he recalled the moment on Myrkr the Jedi had attacked without reason, had tried to harm Kiraea, had threatened the People…that was the trigger to activate the state in himself At Will.

Cold primitive logic taking hold as his own hormones set in he struck back.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 08, 2020, 01:52:07 AM
 
Chapter 6 — Where the Heart is — Instinct — Part 2

Sofa
“Seriously?”

“Just do it!”

“Fine….” An indignant breath out she lifted herself and two dozen rocks telekinetically – Kiraea had asked for six, Sofa wanted to prove she was more than capable of using the aether, she had been a Jedi Master after all.

“Wrong!”

<Don’t you dare you….> Sofa raised her hand too late, the pliable reed sliced air striking her face, Sofa and the rocks clattering to the stony ground.

“You Frelling bitch!” Sofa complained, how Kiraea kept managing to whip her when she got something ’wrong’ eluded her.
Worse Kiraea wouldn’t tell her what she was doing wrong.

In a flush of anger she grabbed the nearest rock and hurled it at Kiraea’s head, with Aethan strength it must’ve flown at least 300 kmph but still Kiraea dodged it.

She was meant to be learning the ‘Guardian Arts’, so far all she’d learned was Kiraea truly was the Galaxies biggest bitch, and Sofa wasn’t quick enough to attain the satisfaction of slapping her.

“Well what am I meant to do instead then?” she snapped

Kiraea blew out her hair pulled back tight as her black leather outfit as she stood on a rock outcrop ten metres away twirling her whipping stick in her fingers.

“You have to use the aether and let the aether use you!”

“Yeah let the force flow through you, it guides your actions, I’ve heard that one since I was six.”

“And you still clearly haven’t learned it,”

Kiraea understood the reason Sofa kept failing, it was easy enough to tell her, but that defeated the purpose, she had to learn for herself or she would revert back to old habits.

Inelegantly sitting back upright Sofa hissed out

“I don’t get why Valens couldn’t teach me….”

“Because he would be too easy on you,” Kiraea replied quickly “He loves you too much to be hard on you, one of his many failings,”

“…or Milaea,”

“She has her own lessons to learn. Now try again, only four rocks this time,”

Jaw twisting Sofa contemplated unleashing a broadside of profanity…but held off for now, settling into a lotus position she breathed in the living force as Soryu had taught her and allowed it entry….

She felt the aether from deep in ground well up and through her like a rich treacle, it sought to infiltrate every part of her, overwhelm her. She guided it away from completely inundating her heart, her head, and other sensitive places.

Kiraea watched as the same mistake was made, Sofa just wouldn’t fully open herself to the aether, she kept parts of her body and mind sealed off from it – this was a necessity on other worlds, but not here, not at home among family. 

While she continued to do this she could never achieve her full potential strength, which Kiraea had to grudgingly admit was likely at least equal to her own.

Sofa grasped at the rocks and imagined a lightness in herself to lift off the ground, but kept part of her thoughts ready to intercept Kiraea’s next strike.

“Wro….”

Snapping up her arm Sofa went to block a blow that never came.

Cold and wet slammed into her from above as Kiraea dumped a bucket of water, icy in the early dawn, on her head.

Hair covering her face in wet curtains, Sofa hit the ground mouth wide open with shock as the water soaked into her loose outfit and chilled her skin.

Hot anger steamed the water off in time with her leap.

“That’s IT!!”

This time Kiraea had to take the attack seriously, she’d incensed Sofa a little further than she’d wanted. 

In a flurry of wet black hair she twisted through the air into a round house kick that Kiraea had to telekinetically shunt herself to avoid.

Sofa didn’t let up, moving through the missed blow gracefully into another, then another as Kiraea wove across the rocks.

The pressure only increased as Sofa integrated elbow strikes and upper cuts aiming to knock the bitches teeth out, the flow of her limbs smooth with strength enough to shatter the rocks into granite flakes when she missed.

Kiraea had speed, but Sofa had strength and Kiraea had to admit better technique, no doubt carefully honed by Soryu over the years as a means of physical mediation and exercise, naively believing Sofa and Milaea wouldn’t adapt it to combat.

But that was all first and second level cognisance. Kiraea needed to hold out a little longer to achieve the higher level aim.  The more she dodged, the more Sofa drew on the aether to increase her speed, slowly filling all of herself by in a way she didn’t when asked – by instinct.

A tipping point was reached, Kiraea forced to block a low kick with her leg, the impact reverberating up her body as she snapped an arm to block Sofa’s elbow, the red sensation of pain flashed in her mind.

Lithe as a ballerina Kiraea arched her torso back, legs still in place rose into a flip kick and sought to grab Sofa’s legs as she spun around.  Sofa would have none of it, a quick step back then launching her knee forward slamming Kiraea in the back before she could complete the flip.

Kiraea skidded through the rocks of the canyon taking numerous grazes and bumps, twisting through the jagged blades of outcrops that lacked rain to smoothly erode the edges.

Kiraea recovered but not before Sofa had leapt from rock to rock to get over her and bring down a solid meaty slap to her face.

“That ‘Wrong’ too you tralk!” she screamed hair still over her face in wet clumped strands.

Checking no teeth were damaged Kiraea twisted her head to look up at the looming black haired woman, fury seething from every pore, but most importantly power filling every cell of her body.

“You finally got it right…”

“What by slapping your bitch face?”

“By letting yourself be able to.”

That answer stumped Sofa.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the great Jedi Master you tell me,” the sarcasm was unnecessary, but the instruction was still important, Sofa had to work it out herself.

They simply remained motionless, Kiraea crouched, Sofa standing noting she had grasped all the aetheric energy she could to catch Kiraea, acting on instinct…she closed back off those parts of herself she didn’t want touched….

…then realised that was what had made the difference.

“I didn’t think…I just acted…let the power flow through me without restraint,” Sofa surmised

“Which is difficult for you to do…” Kiraea replied shuffling to her knees, Sofa extending a hand to help her up, she took it instantly, there was never any resentment between sisters no matter how they fought on occasion.

“You were violated hideously as a child, to open yourself fully is difficult, but not impossible,” Kiraea added

Sofa remained silent for a long moment.

“I want to protect myself…regain control, keep those parts of me safe…” she turned round surveying the damage done in her fury, it seemed unchanged, the rocks settled back as if they had always been there.

“But that cuts me off…from what I could do and be…if I hadn’t opened myself at other times, to Milaea, Valens…I wouldn’t have the life I do now…”

Her mouth pursed at the thought…Life might be easier that way… she ruefully considered.  Still she opened her heart to Milaea…or perhaps pulled Milaea into it, needing someone to care for and protect in a way she couldn’t protect herself at the same age…and opened her mind and body to Valens…

But still she didn’t fully let herself be subsumed by anything, not even the aether on this world where it literally ached to be allowed into every part of her.

“Is it really so bad if I keep a part of myself to myself?” she snapped more strongly that she had intended.

Kiraea didn’t answer, she could not make that decision for Sofa, only lead he to the realising that a decision needed to be made.

Exposing herself totally to the aether gave her power to slap Kiraea down…but left her vulnerable, guilty she made herself vulnerable by choice.

And what did she gain from it anyway, what did she need more strength in the aether for, Sofa could already protect herself…

But not against Kiraea whipping me…there’s always someone stronger…and if I can’t protect myself how could I protect…

And there it was…the reason she chose Valens and becoming and Aethan, left the Jedi…she wanted to be a mother.

“So is that the essence of it…I have to decide what is more important, protecting myself or protecting my children?”

Kiraea simply shrugged

The heady mix of emotions and thoughts brought her down, she slumped inelegantly onto the ground.

“…and what kind of mother would I be if I keep any of myself held back from my children…”

She stared blankly into the grey dust between the crags as if some wisdom was sealed in the metamorphic rocks when they formed billions of years ago.

“I don’t want my children to ever endure what I went through…” she glanced to Kiraea

“Or what you and the others went through…”

“And if that means I have to expose myself to protect my…our children…”

Kiraea shuffled over as the decision was made more potent for being unspoken. 

An icy focused calm settled over Sofa, it lasted only a few moments, but it was enough, Sofa had opened herself fully and had identified the key to entering the Aephrodaea’s Grace combat state. 

Now it was just a matter of practising unlocking it on demand.

Kiraea leaned forward and kissed Sofa’s cheek then held her hand.

“Rest up sister, tomorrow we begin the real training.”

<<<<>>>

Milaea
“Come on!” she called over the howling winds as she paused thigh deep in the snow atop the glaciers in the mist of a winter storm.

Her grandmother plodded behind.

Milaea had been surprised when Kiraea told her she was to train Kassyndra.  Still it made sense Milaea had Jedi and Aethan training, and was close with Kassyndra following her revival, and Milaea could add her own slant on what and how the teaching was done.

Things were not going to plan.  She had devised a careful and thorough training regime to improve her fitness and aetheric ability building to more advanced techniques, yet even with that Kassyndra struggled.

She had been too slow on the race along the plains, been banged up by even the simple traps Milaea had set and now looked positively exhausted. 

Her grandmother had not been raised to be a warrior, but she was an Aethan, bred and engineered at a cellular level to be better than this. 

Milaea kept going to the next trial zone, she would need to push her, force Kassyndra to draw on all the strength the generations of Technocracy design had left latent in her body.

She reached the peak, all around were grey jags peaking from snow interspersed with the bluish white of flat glacial platforms

“Mili I can’t…” the waspy voice just over the wind came as the first flecks of snow filled her hair.

Milaea could not be, in this moment Mili, the caring granddaughter…she had to be the master and Kassyndra the student, giving her no concessions or relief for no future enemy would.

Finally Kassyndra crested the ridge to the top…and Milaea struck.

Short swords in each hand she struck at her grandmother with singled minded fury. 

Kassyndra stumbled to the side, the pack with her training weapons still on her back dodging the first strike, staggering from the second by accident rather than design fumbling to get something to defend herself.

Milaea would not give her the opportunity, hammering forward Kassyndra’s only option was to turn hoping the backpack took the blows rather than her body.

A desperate and wasteful use of resources.

Milaea’s blades sliced through the straps and pouches spilling food and weapons onto the light snow.

Kassyndra dropped to the ground, instinctual kinetic barrier bouncing Milaea’s next blows to the side briefly opening her up.

Out of no-where Kassyndra blasted her in the breast with a heavy telekinetic wave. 

Milaea staggered surprised at the ferocity before charging again, substituting Jedi for aggressive sith techniques.

She was met with competent if wavering blocks from a training. 

Milaea allowed a few rounds of sparking clashes before stamping down as the snow storm turned deadly.

Red tendrils of precise telekinetic energy shot from Milaea’s torso piercing through Kassyndra’s shoulder and knees, smashing her to the ground nearly ten metres away burying her into the snow.

“Need to do a lot better than that…” she called snow now up to her waist as her nose tingled  with frost, secondary circulatory system flowing warm blood to her extremities.

She headed over to where Kassyndra had fallen, unable to see her given she was so deeply buried.

Milaea near froze stiff as she looked into the empty woman shaped hole in the snow.

“Where…”

Durasteel vices gripped her ankles and dragging her backward then face first into the snow…arms out to protect her head exposed her sides to a violent and swift kick that plunged her into the bank of white cold that now covered her.

She twisted herself back up…but didn’t recover in time to protect herself from the red blade of energy that struck her square in the sternum sending her back even further to the point she was worried she’d drop off the edge.

“I thought you were tired?” she gasped steadying herself.

“I am,” Kassyndra replied, “but I can still move…so I must,”

“So you must,” Milaea agreed rushing at her again palms open she used upper body combinations that Soryu had taught her, Kassyndra defected as best she could, blocking with the aether where she couldn’t,

“That’s it…combine the physical and the aetheric and don’t neglect the….”

A sharp blue stab behind her eyes forced Milaea to raise a mental block to keep the Aetheric Thorn from hitting her second level of consciousness

“…mental…”

“The three levels of combat…I understand…” Kassyndra grunted out as Milaea pushed her back, palms hammering her forearms and shoulder.

“…such is the way the Outsiders terrorized us…” the strength of her counters and blocks seemed to double instantly

“they overwhelmed us physically with their stun weapons, shattered mentally by abducting and separating us, and in the aether took us to places where we could not feel the touch of our Goddesses!”

Stunned by the ferocity in Kassyndra’s words Milaea missed beat and a counter turned into an elbow to her breast knocking her back again, only the ice cold of the wind taking the heat from it.

“Correct,” Milaea agreed circling around in the break as Kassyndra straightened as if a second wind of cold rage was propping her up.

Kassyndra, her grandmother was, in every other respect a gentle and patient person, but there had been moments where Milaea saw flashes of something far more assertive, first in the seiðr caverns and now again as they trained.

It was the raw maternal instinct, vicious to outsiders as it was protective to Children, the kind of ferocity and aggressive impulse that Selaena exhibited most obviously, Kiraea and the other women to differing degrees.

And no doubt I possess that instinct as well Milaea realized

In time with the piling snow Kassyndra’s instinctual aggression grew as they locked in hand to hand combat again, their foot work slowed by the now near waist high snow as night fell fully.

The instinct was strong, but not enough to compensate, medium block to Milaea’s low jab offered the opportunity, Milaea swung in with a head butt knocking her Grandmother in the temple then followed through with a back hand slap that sent her flopping into the snow which melted out the cold rage that had been building in her grandmother.

“That’s enough for tonight…we sleep here…” she rustled over to the pack to grab out a small shovel to carve a place to sleep under the more compacted layers of snow.

Within minutes their shelter was ready and they sat bodies still warm under same blanket, coals lit by the aether to warm grain bars.

“You trained often like this with the Jedi,” Kassyndra asked

“Not quite like this…even Illum wasn’t this cold, the Jedi training could be hard, but it was always tempered, Soryu could be tough, Sofa and Yoda tougher, but there were…limits…things they wouldn’t teach, paths they wouldn’t follow…”

“This Darkside you told me of,”

“Exactly…” she felt her hair begin to stiffen as the moisture froze and pulled over her hooded jumper.

“Lightning, Fire, many malacia attacks…they wouldn’t touch them, even telekinesis was limited to defensive methods…of course there were others not so restrained, the Sentinels and Temple Guard…but even so…”

“Seems wasteful…to not use all of yourself to defend yourself and your loved ones…” Kassyndra noted coolly.

“…so why do you do the same now?”

The suddenness of the -observation, criticism, attack? – stunned Milaea

“What…what do you mean,”

“You hold back Milaea…I’ve watched while you train with Sofa, or the Extolled, you don’t use those very things often and when you do begrudgingly…”

These didn’t seem like Kassyndra’s words, Milaea wondered if Valens hadn’t prompted a challenge - whether he had or not Milaea could sense Kassyndra believed what she said.

“I worry for you my baby, you father does too,”
By father Kassyndra meant Jarys rather than Soryu,

“I can protect myself, use those abilities if I need to…”

“How much more if you let yourself fully perfect them?” under the rug Kassyndra gripped Milaea’s hands her eyes glistening with nascent tears.

“I’ve lost two daughters already, I don’t want to lose another,”

It was then Milaea realised she was being tested too.

<<<<>>>>

Valens

Seated alone in the half constructed Bloodstone Aetheric Nexus aboard the Aethenaea in geosynchronous orbit Valens observed everything.

Sofa had moved onto learning precision Aetheric lightening, in the tradition of mutuality showing Kiraea her take on Soryu’s enhanced Niman form.

Maeson experimenting with new ways to allow the aether flow through him to enhance his slightly below average connection, Melron suggesting a means he had sensed from the High Sentinel Yshrrk on Ord Mirit. .

Selaena who tended to sniper and artillery roles was put through her paces acting in a healing and melee role against a clutch of Vosis with Jarys.

And shining brightest Milaea losing Jedi instilled inhibitions under the guidance of Kassyndra – her grandmother needed to learn how to expand, contract and control the temperature of aetheric fire, tune malacia attacks and use a Lighting shield - Milaea reached limits of teaching by reference to native animals that used such techniques - Kretor mites that made nests in burnt tree, Voschek scorpions that poisoned their prey with tail venom and aether – for so long and was forced to demonstrate.

Just as Valens and the other guardians had intended. 

With every use Milaea’s subconscious fear such abilities were a path to the dark side would lessen the Jedi dogma undone.

Kassyndra could turn Milaea more toward the Guardian and warrior she could be, free of ‘moral’ concerns, in a day than he or even Kiraea could in a year.

His time to set each their final challenge was closing in…it was almost as much challenge for him as….

The Alarms screeched as an unidentified Vessel breached Aethas atmosphere.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 08, 2020, 01:54:24 AM
 
Chapter 6 — Where the Heart is — Instinct — Part 3

Lydan
Momo gently hummed as they sat atop a grassy hill, the rest of the gormin herd below chewing on the long grasses.

He kept his eyes on the edge of the forest nearby, if any vorynx were tempted to pounce on the herd that was where they would come from.

Lydan had been looking after the herd by himself for nearly a month now, his physical recovery essentially complete, but still he disliked being anywhere near machinery that served to remind him of the cybernetics imposed on him.

This made it difficult as Adaea was spending much more time off world on Aeda working on the Black Obelisk system…she had encouraged him to come and have a look at it but…for now he just couldn’t.

Perhaps he never could.

Momo grunted, big watery eyes staring at him sensing his disquiet before nudging him with her snout.

He probably should take a wander around. 

Standing up he took up his shepherd’s staff. Soon after his healing he had found a large fallen tree with number of solid branches, with Maesons help he had  fashioned his own staff, bow and arrows to protect the herd and help the recovery of his fine motor skills.

The staff was a simple piece of Obirion Wood, taken from the core of the tree it was just over his normal height with engraved hand holds so he could wield it with both hands or one as needed. He had been practising with Valens, Jarys and others as they visited him over the weeks and had been improving they all said…but he was not so sure.

Wandering round the herds he took in the sounds and smells, eyes wide open to pick out any movement in the nearby shrubs and hedges.

Just a few weeks ago so much stimulation would’ve been overwhelming…at times it did and he wore his large draped hat…but now that was only a few times a week rather than for hours on end.

Gently patting the gormin he kept an eye on the ground for any tracks that were not theirs, kneeling to sniff at the earth that he rubbed between his fingers.

Nothing smelt off, nothing looked off still he sensed something amiss…he just needed to…

A hammer smashed him in the left side…another in the right…he was pressed between the two invisible walls and pinned as half a dozen Vorynx, blazing teeth and glinting pearls that channelled the aether on their sloped heads rushed out of the trees.

The gomin reacted swiftly leaping and trotting into a large group, the bulls heads down to show their horns as they filled the aether with warning shouts and blocky telekinetic barriers.

The vorynx went straight past Lydan as if he were of no real concern.

He certainly felt of little worth.

The grass was in his face as low rumbles of panic from his herd boomed, his body ached…but he couldn’t let them be harmed…everyone of them was precious when there were so few.

Pushing up painfully, his ribs and chest feeling as though they had been under a boulder he gripped his staff and shouted enhancing his voice with the Aether.

“HEY HEY OVER HERE!”

The Vorynx paid no mind rapidly closing on the gormin as they wove between the telekinetic shields they could sense, banging into the once they couldn’t, and shattering others with their own energy blasts

Frustrated he gripped his staff mid-way and raised it up in a line with his right eye aimed straight at the vorynx nearest a gormin…pushing the aether into the staff he focused his mind on two other places…just ahead of the spear and just behind the vorynx head…

Like a spear he threw it through the aetheric opening just in front it vanished from sight exiting just behind the vorynx head some 100 metres away to hammer it in the back of the skull. 

The Vorynx skidded to a halt shaking its head confused as Lydan rushed forward grabbing his bow and arrows – while only of wood and with no sharp ends they were still heavy and strong enough to hurt.  He leapt up without thinking firing off three quick shots into another Vorynx – the first two hit it in the back, the third it deflected.

He landed among the six vorynx of the raiding party. A pack would usually have at least twenty members…he hoped they were not nearby.

Spinning his recalled staff it in a rapid defensive flourish Milaea had taught him, her techniques calming and centring as the Vorynx realising he was a genuine threat circled him.

“Momo back to the farm!” he ordered the matriarch grunting in acknowledgement as the gormin assembled behind her. 

Two of the vorynx spun to pursue…Lydan would not allow it.  Arm outstretched he used an aetheric counterweight manoeuvre Valens had taught him – rather than grip them directly which they could more easily sense, he bounced a see saw like beam of telekinetic energy up from under them flinging them into the air…then brought the other end of the see-saw round in a full 180 to slam them to the ground.

Hissing and howling the other leathery beast punched at him all at once.  Diamond sharp claws backed by muscled legs as large as his torso slashed with strength enhanced by the aether, he wove between them with the flexible Niman Style Sofa had shown him, using it’s open and opportunistic nature to strikes bellies and sides.

Even through hard leathery skin he did damage, muscles firmed from weights exercises with Jarys, staff enchanted with help from Adaea to make it stronger than natural wood, able to teleport and telekinetically move with much less power.

But still he was outnumbered six to one, the two he had slammed re-joining…if they could not take a gormin he might do instead.

A furious barrage of teeth, claw and poisoned tails rushed at him as he parried, countered and dodged in their midst, sweat dripping as his heart heaved, all twelve chambers squeezing hormone rich blood through him.

There was an excitement, and exhilaration to the fight, to knowing he was protecting his head, his People, his…

They are part of the planet too…

The thought caused him to pull his blows back, distracted him enough for a poison dripping claw to scratch his face.

Immune responses to seal the area kicked in leaving his cheek numb and devoid of blood flow, he pushed out an indiscriminate blast of telekinetic and electric energy ina vortex to turn the predators upside down to gain himself space as Lyaea had shown him.

The Vorynx rapidly righted themselves snarling and hissing as they circled.

He lowered his staff.

“There is nothing I can spare for you,” his voice was laced with the aether pressing minds as Valens taught with a sense of reason and firmness as Sofa had shown him.

“The herd is too small to lose even one, you will need to find prey elsewhere in the upper valley, the Goyruts are more numerous, but they too must be rationed.”

The Vorynx intense yellow eyes became inquisitive, he could feel their semi sentience turning over the meaning and vision they painted in a frame of reality the animals could understand.

The largest one, a female based on the lighter fur around the head made a low growl and backed away a few steps, then suddenly looked to the sky.

The rumble of engines cut through the still of the standoff.  Through the clear blue sky a bulky square ship covered in tangle of pipes and beams descended right toward where Momo and the flock had fled.

He stopped dead.

Memories of what had been done to him by the Black Sun crept along his spine in black chills, being made into the cybernetic slave Surge…doing horrible things under the electronic compulsion of half woken senses.

He couldn’t do it…he couldn’t go near such machines again, even thinking about technology made him worry he would suddenly regrow metal limbs…

The ship descended from his view behind the hill…he felt in the deep undercurrents of the aether Momo and the herd panic.

His herd…they were attacking his Herd…and he stood there frozen.

The Outsiders have come…first the Herd, then Adaea, Lya, Mother…
No the others will fight them off, Valens, Jarys, Milaea they can turn Outsiders to dust…


As loud as he could he screamed and searched in the aether…there was no response.

Heated blood filled his body as panic set in…
The others would’ve stopped them in orbit…they would never let them reach the surface unless…

Unless they are gone…


The black trickle up his spine became a river washing through him…he was alone the machines and outsiders had come, the herd was under attack…he had to act…he had to…

Trauma dissolved beneath the hammering impacts of Aertemisin that flooded his brain and Aephrodaesin severed any sense of fatigues from fending of the Vorynx, the Aether rushed through him like a tsunami sharpening his senses and buoying his strength.

He looked back at the Vorynx, stutter and doubt subsiding under the cold need to protect the Herd and the People.

“COME!” His word was joined with a dominating push in the aether that caused the Vorynx to cow before him…an instant later they were sprinting by his side.

<<<<>>>>

The wind split in rushing waves around as he crested the hill, taking in the scene below with…not just his own…but the Vorynx and Gormin’s eyes as well…

We are all joined

The ship was hovering above the herd, ugly bulky gunmetal creatures with six legs and four arms herding the gormin beneath the ship.  They clanked angrily with sharpened spikes on each leg in the ground, their torso’s spinning round rapidly arms waving and firing yellow blasts as 360 red visual sensors detected him.

He felt forward and sensed no life among them…they were all machines, false, lifeless things.  He would destroy them all.

A spray of rapid fire almost inviable in the bright afternoon sun desecrated the area with its artificial ‘tvuump’ sounds.

Spinning his Obirion staff he blocked the shots, the faux energy soaked up by the enchantment to power the staff even more in the manner his mother had taught him to deal with blaster fire when lacking a lightsabre or shield.

He charged Vorynx at his side.  The fire kept coming and more droids deployed, the rain of fire bouncing off his staff as he raced down, or the Vorynx telekinetic shields – the kickback slowing the vorynx more than Lydan who simply absorbed the energy.

Halfway down the hill he leapt staff over his head.  Just as Kiraea had shown he took the charge of energy the enemies weapons had given him and released it striking forth a huge bolt of lightning – their blue shield flickered and buckled before shattering, the power melting them into blobs of popping croaking metal.

Their attention now fully on him he landed with a roll back into a run and gripped the hovering ship with his mind drawing it toward him…Size matters not Valens had said…the Vorynx caught up as he reached the front line of droids.

Repositioned in a semicircle that partially flanked him they unleashed rounds of fire from each of the spinning arms, many he blocked some got through, but in his focused state he could feel nothing, only smell the hyperkeratin of his skin singe.

The charge met the line. Tooth and claw rent metal into keen edged shreds as his staff battered onto of the cylindrical heads then he spun to bash the spinning torso apart.

The outsiders…are soft…less dense bodies and materials…they break against us Melron had advised.  He made them beak now.

Pragmatic, precise and perfectly timed strikes dealt irreparable damage, his aether enhanced strength enough to topple some over despite their six bladed feet stuck into the earth. 

They struck back four arms switching configuration to two blaster two blades, spinning constantly and slicing and firing.  He took hits by choice and by mistake, arm, chest and face covered in thin lines of rich red…but he inflicted three times more than he suffered.

The vorynx tore into those he bowled over, shredding the creatures that did not smell of this world into scrap.

More deployed from the vessel as Lydan spun through the last on the ground, only now seeing behind him the twenty others he had crushed or melted.

No time for melee he turned the heated momentum of his charge into pure energy – blue lighting ripping from his fingers and striking the droids…he grasped each arc of lighting and guided it inside the machines just like Kiraea had taught to overload critical systems. 

The four machines simply dropped tiny explosions inside their bodies leaching smoke as the other four lobbed grenades amidst the yellow fire, he grasped the grenades and used his staff to block the bolts – but it had been a distraction.  Another hatch on the ship opened up releasing a hundred drones no larger than his thumb in a swarm.

They ploughed straight at him, his lighting response hopeless as like a shoal they wound with one mind around the blazing arcs.

Peppered with thousands of tiny blasts, his kinetic shield taking the brunt forced on the defensive, the Vorynx circling protectively about him scratching the drones to no avail, their thick hides the only thing keeping them alive.

The drones were hundreds, tiny and precise…like all the circuits Adaea worked with on the Obelisks…he drew upon the memory of how she kept so many things in mind at once, finding the commonality to them, linking and threading them together like when she sewed…

He focused on the shape, dead metal in the aether, bringing them all together in one common stream…then slammed them all together. 

The writhing shoal turned to a single slick block of metal in an instant, even as a few shots of the larger droid hit his back he slam-forged the drones into a ball he hurled straight up into the ship.

Instantly back to the main droids he flung two vorynx on telekinetic strings behind them and hurled his staff straight at one with gripping the other three into position for the res to the vorynx to rip into.

The last droids defeated the ship began to lift away the whirring sound of charging cannons raising ill memories in his mind.

He would not allow it to hit them from above.

Leaping straight up the grasped onto the pipe and beams of the underside, easily climbing round to the side just as Maeson had taught him on the cliff faces in the upper valley.

His fist charged with the aether seeking out the flow of energy and lines of weakness – the shatterpoints his sister had been determined to teach him. 

With his first punch a vast plate of doonium shattered, exposing the cables pumping energy across he ship beneath. A weaker being would be killed by the voltage, but Aethan biology as Valens explained was capable of withstanding otherwise fatal radiation and electrical surges.  He grabbed at the cables and ripped them out, hammering more blows as he crawled inside the vessel.

It was tight, airless, dense but for storage areas, a droid ship with no need for life support.  In the belly of the metal beast he tore it apart from within, shatter point blows cracking casing on critical instruments, aetheric lighting overloading key conduits.

The ship shuddered and sunk unable to resist the pull of gravity any longer.  Spinning round he kicked with shattering force on the plating on the opposite side from where he had entered, the wind rushing up and in to meet him as he leapt out.

Free falling he felt free, calm…even as the ground rose up to meet him, the gormin her trampling the dead droids the Vorynx howling toward him eager to have joined in on the destruction. 

The yellow plumes of destruction as the ship fell told them all it was time to leave.

Lydan hammered himself to the side with a teleport shunt just as Jarys taught, gaining distance from the ship and arcing his decent to land as safely as possible as far as possible.

Body covered in scratches, oil, blood and metallic dust he crashed into the thick stalks of grass turning to watch the ship fall…

Then stop dead.

Instead of a thundering collapse it gently lowered to the ground a few hundred metres away.

He was puzzled…had the droids landed somehow? 

Either way he needed to rid his home world of this filth.  Getting back up without thought for the fatigue that his hormones suppressed he raced toward the sparking dying ship as smoke filled the air, then condensed back onto itself as if being…packaged away.

At the foot of the ship was a lone figure hand outstretched aether flowing strongly.

“Well done Lydan,” Valens called across the field littered with broken droids

“Still some things for you to refine and sharpen, but not many, and more importantly…”

He turned to regard the haggard looking younger man

“When the threat was there you fought instead of froze against your trauma, though it would’ve been no shame had you done the opposite, or fled even,” 

Lydan heaved out as his heart slowed its squeezing, it had all been a…

“Trial yes,” Valens was by now beside him
“As you recovered we’ve all been training you, We all need to protect the People, we all need to use our instincts, our hormones our bodies to the full, the biggest barrier to that is here,”

Valens tapped his temple

“My doubts and guilt’s are my weakness, your trauma and natural introversion yours, all the People have their own,”

He placed his hand on his bloodied shoulder

“Do you understand the nature of the final trial?”

Heat radiated off Lydan’s body from the burst of activity, the violence of the last few minutes, and now the rapid need to understand what Valens was trying to communicate.

“Those flaws are always there…things I can’t heal…” Lydan flexed his hands, it had been nearly a month since he had any tremors or stutters, physically he was recovered fully…that was the test of the Vorynx to affirm he was strong enough to fend them off but also wise enough to know when to stay his hand.

His fist clenched.

“…but I can ensure they don’t bring risk to myself or the People.”

Valens nodded and handed the younger man his staff, noting the weapons balance and firm enchantments in the runes approvingly.

“A solid weapon for protecting the heard…but tomorrow we will go together and begin forging you a weapon more suited to the threats offworld…for now///I think your mother wishes to see you…”

Selaena

Her greatest terror, her deepest regret was not being able to protect her children from the Outsiders.  It was the very situation that made her hormones pump and she had honed with Jarys to ensure she could control her activation of Aephordaea’s Grace.

In Valens vicious final trial she was forced to endure all of it again, watching as Lydan faced the terror of machines, the bladed claws of Vorynx, and was forbidden from helping her son in anyway.

Only by using what she had learned in controlling the heightened combat state could she restrain herself.

But that was over now, and she nearly knocked Lydan leaping across fifteen meters to grasp him tightly around the neck with arms that would never stop fighting for him and now - after two months training with Jarys - were twice as able to.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 08, 2020, 01:58:22 AM
 
Chapter 6 — Where the Heart is — Instinct — Part 4

Maeson

Weary from the road he almost didn’t notice the slight change.

The door to his long house was ever so lightly off compared to where he had left it so many weeks before, subtle traces of a mouldy not to say rotten scent in the air.

Drawing his newly forged sword he cautiously approached, he knew to expect his final trial from Valens soon…it could be anything…

Past the budding trees of his orchard awaiting the winter rains to seep down into the warmer earth and stimulate the fungi which would join in a mycorrhiza with the roots so they would grow rapidly in the spring he creaked the door open just slightly.

He had expected a hard trial from Valens…but not his hard.

Three bodies tightly wrapped in dank fabrics that had the ruin of years upon them lay on the floor. 

He knew who they belonged to, and why they were here. 

His Wife, his son, his daughter, killed by the outsiders, interred by Valens so many years ago while Maeson was slaving in the Red dust mines, returned from the Caverns of Persephaea to hammer into him once more he was alive and they were not.

Beside the door were fresh bolts of cloth. 

He could’ve fainted, ran…or driven his own blade through his heart to join them.

But he was alive and there were still women to protect, new generations to raise.  He would never forget his family, but he needed to, quite literally, bury them.

Sending his mind into the state of clarity and emptiness needed to perform such an overwhelming task he began.

<<<<<>>>>

Hours later he left the house, carrying the three freshly wrapped bodies, the smell of dried decay all over him as he walked, and walked, and walked to the caverns.

Adaea was there waiting, it was important that a woman be present to be witness for the Goddesses, something denied them at their first burial.

Torch lit they slowly made their way down the deep black caverns past the other victims of Outsider horror, their niches covered by red cloth except for one large carved space where the cloth curtain was opened ready.

Sprinkling water and flowers upon the stone and bodies, carved bloodstone totems around the necks, Adaea stepped back as Maeson fulfilled his task, as Guardian, Man, Husband and Father and finally, with his own hands, laid his family to rest.

<<<<>>>>
Sofa
“Well?” her voice carried irritation as she tapped her foot on the rugs covering the wooden boards the fire warm long house that served as their ‘house’ until Sofa could have Valens build her something more refined.

Said Valens was on a bench jotting notes as he read through three books on 8th dimensional physics simultaneously.

“hmmm…” his indifference irritating her.

“You’re meant to be giving me my Final Trial or whatever?”

“Oh…I considered various options but decided that given you’ve already passed Jedi trials and faced your fears and such more than enough times you don’t need one,”

Her eyes widened

“So that’s it, I spend two months with that pathologically violent bitch Kiraea preparing for whatever you’re gonna test me with to prove I’m ‘Guardian worthy, and this is all I get?”

Valens only motion was jotting down some abhorrently complex equation.

“That was a question not a statement!” she complained

“What more is there to test, you were already a Jedi Master, expert in Niman forms, able to fight Jedi, Sith, Yuzzhan Vong, you just needed to refine a few non-Jedi abilities and control combat hormones which Kiraea assures me you have done,”

Sofa stood perplexed not knowing where to go, there was logic to what he said, but also a sense of disappointment she didn’t get to prove herself.

“Was there anything else, I need to concentrate on this,” the dismissiveness of his tone made her want to slap him.

Frustrated she huffed and turned to leave to cool off at the waterfalls or something, then paused at the door.

“So there’s absolutely nothing else I’m just a Guardian, no formal ceremony or anything,”

Valens sighed

“You have my affirmation, the others will pick up next time we link our minds…”

“This sucks…I thought I’d have to do something,”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, crazy vision quest, hunt a giant Vorynx, find some magical amulet, solve some clever riddle….”

Valens sighed finally putting his stylus down,

“Would it make you feel better if I set you some task?”

“Well yes!” she replied turning back around.

“But why, it would be so, superfluous, what difference would it make? Why do you need to do something more than you already have?”

“I don’t know, maybe it would just make me feel normal, properly accept if I’m tested in the same way as all of the others, no special treatment from you cause we’re together, or because I used to be….”

She pursed her lips

“This is it isn’t it…you’re trying to see if I want to be accepted as part of the People, if given the option just to coast will I insist I prove myself instead.”

His face tightened, usually when they were alone she only saw the softer side of him, now she saw the grim adamantium expression he wore around outsiders.

“Do you feel you need to prove yourself?”

Sofa knew she was hitting the right point now, but it was driving straight into her.

“No…but…yes, I don’t want everyone to look at me and just see the ‘remade human’, the ‘half Aethan’ or whatever…”

“Just you?” his words drove the blade in deeper still

“No…” her voice barely above a whisper he waited for her to say it.  Valens was well aware that for Sofa almost everything came back to the same goal she had cherished for so long.

“I don’t want our children to be thought of as…lesser, semi Jedi or whatever, cause Goddesses know I’ve thrown off everything the Jedi forced on me, more than Milaea,”

“To prove your one of us?”

“No,” she snapped “Cause their a bunch of dogmatic twits!” her frustration rising as her loyalty was questioned by one of three people whose confidence she always relied upon.

“The best the Jedi have, not that they listen to him, is Soryu, and he’s more living force hippie than anything else…” her face turned into the shadows of the flickering fire.

“I wonder how he is…” she shook off the thought, the sad reality of likely never seeing him again stung.

“So yeah, despite everything I’ve done, I still need to show I’m just as Aethan as Aethan can be so no one can doubt me or my children, honestly its tiring.”

His face finally softened

“To admit that openly at last is enough, none of the others think of you as less than People, once they and the Goddesses accept someone that is all, your power on Vultper showed the latter beyond doubt…” he finally stood and wandered toward her, strong hands comforting on her shoulders as she let her head droop to nuzzle her cheek upon his hand.

“Any remaining doubt is yours alone…” he took her fully into his embrace
“But you have all your People to allay it,”

<<<<>>>>

Milaea
The pin slammed in with the familiar shriek of metal against rock and she quickly looped the rope up, a quick tug securing the knot.

Among the many more ‘practical’ things Milaea was teaching Kassyndra was rock climbing – not a typical Jedi skills compared to general parkour – but one that could not hurt.

The winter sky was a deep grey, almost black with cloud that held its rain tight as they raced to the hidden hanger doors above them on the outer face of Mount Aelia before the down pour began.

The days had flown by after their nights on the mountain, each learning from the other even more than they had the first few weeks after Kassyndra had been healed and awakened.

While Milaea could teach physical skills and aetheric techniques, Kassyndra in turn continued to teach her what Milaea never quite learnt among the Jedi or with Soryu, a more grounded and homely way of thinking.

Much as she loved her father, Sofa, and Yoda for raising her, they had done so as Jedi, their compassion diffused to all beings, morality high.  Even Soryu’s focus on finding the simplicity in listening to the will of the Living Force, was, in it’s meditative methods still deeply steeped in mysticism.

Kassyndra, like the People, had a morality – or rather fundamental biological instinct, ‘morality’ being merely a term of convenience - that encapsulated only hearth and home, flora and fauna, a practical steady approach to all issues born of a subsistence lifestyle in which errors or introspection over the niceties would be punished by the weather or wild predators.

Like Melron she would tell Milaea stories after a day or evening practising Saber Forms or aetheric flows, her stories less concerning the Goddesses and mythology than homestead tales of practical wisdom, and at times witchcraft, how the seior was used to prepare for a forthcoming drought, a wise woman chosing the best worker and farmer as her mate.

It was grounded, earthy, and something Milaea wish she had earlier.

She had spent so long fretting over the fate of galaxies, trying to scry out what was right or wrong in a situation, worrying about whether using a certain technique would be giving into the ‘dark side’.  These were the things a Jedi would worry about, debate and even draw blood over…

Here clambering up the mountain side still wet from the previous night’s rains there was no time for thought just action.

As she lodged in pin after pin on the assent, Kassyndra throwing them back up to her as they went higher, she felt more free than ever.

Cresting over a jutting rock face she noted the small nest built high up by Snow-hawks, a few eggs nestled – life was returning, hope was returning, if anything was worth defending with all she was capable of it was this.

<Everything alright?> Kassyndra probed the winds at this altitude too strong for voices.

<Fine just some nests…>

<We are close…Valens is waiting…a task…our Trials…> Kassyndra’s words were not the result of observation but prescience, as they trained and Milaea taught her more ways of drawing on the aether Kassyndra’s seior abilities had strengthened significantly, her ability to predict the near future in combat by Milaea’s calculation up to 87 per cent.

At the start of their training Milaea had clear advantage of skills and experience, this was now dwindling as their Aethenaea cortices merged knowledge and Kassyndra found her own style using her seior arts to fight several dozen beats ahead, further than even Valens and Jarys typically would.  Milaea had to catch up in turn.

<Well lets get moving then>

The two women acted as one in seamless accord moving up the ever more sheer cliff face, their connection instinctual through blood and increasingly culture. 

Somewhere in the back of her minds Milaea knew she was dropping Jedi morals and concepts by the day, ‘dogma’ Valens would call it…and more deeply connecting with the innate biological patterns of thinking of the People. 

She was comfortable with that, even Soryu on Ord Mirit had moved far from the Temple Jedi ideal, and she finally had a safe, unhurried place to synthesize her own thoughts instead of racing crisis to crisis.  She thought briefly on Reeda, wondering how she was faring on the Jungle isles, the parallel not lost on her.

Finally they reached the millimetre thin jagged cracks that marked the secret opening to the mountain hangar.

Without a word Kassyndra gripped it in her mind, the embedded Blackstone recognising a Persons touch and yielding effortless despite the tons it weighed.

Quick flips and they were in just as the firs rains hit the polished ferrocrete, Kassyndra flowing warming and restorative energy to Milaea – Kassyndra’s martial abilities had developed to a solid level but it was clear her expertise lay in seior arts and healing.

As predicted Valens was waiting for them, his countenance usually iron had a grim shade as he strode forward in his ‘casual’ black leathers, bow and sword on his back as if preparing for…

Kassyndra lashed out with a blast of lighting just a millisecond before Valens could draw his blade, her shot hitting his elbow with such force it sent the neurons in his arm twitching.

The telekinetic response was enough to blast Milaea’s hair wildly about as it struck Kassyndra’s shield…but she wasn’t even there stalking around the side, driving her own training sword into his ankle before he could pivot.

The rapid fire blows and movements that followed were astounding to see, Valens was actually Behind Kassyndra in time, taking numerous hits and all his attempts to strike back missing or foiled. Yet she still couldn’t quite land what would be a critical blow.

It lasted thirty more seconds before something shifted in Valens, his aetheric draw increased by half in an instant and Kassyndra’s elbow toward his face was anticipated, caught even as her arms was moving into positon and twisted unnaturally even for an Aethans joint range.

“Impressive,” he said releasing her, the older woman rapidly recovering, innate biological healing enhanced by her aetheric expertise.

“If you can hold out for thirty five point six second against me you can deal with a regular Jedi…for two months of formal training that is exceptional, well done both of you,”

Milaea knew the brief skirmish was not the trial Valens had in mind.

“No, it is not…” he confirmed her thoughts

“The last trial for you both, is this…”

He fixed Milaea’s gaze a regretful sympathy in his eyes.

“You must tell your Grandmother exactly what happened,”

“No…” Milaea said almost at the same instant
“It’s not necessary, it’s,”

Kassyndra looked utterly perplexed at her granddaughter.

“She deserves to know Milaea, painful though it is for you both,”
“Isn’t it enough already, without all the details

“What details? Milaea?” Kassyndra tried to interrupt

“What does it prove!” Milaea snapped the anger rising “What does it achieve other than making us hate Outsiders even more!”

“The truth might be difficult to hear, but it must be spoken.” Valens replied using Soryu’s preferred paraphrasing of the ancient Jedi axiom.

Her tone changed from defiant to defeated in an instant

“I don’t want to…to think about it, speak about it…remember it” the whisper echoing in the vast cavern

For a moment Valens wondered if he had gone too far in this test…yet the fact Milaea wanted to avoid it in around about way justified his choice…only he and Milaea knew the full truth…Valens had been there Milaea had Seen it flow walking.  It was a burden to them both, but Milaea would benefit from divesting herself of the secret far more than he would.

Milaea knew she had to, knew she would eventually…

“Alright, but let’s wash, get changed, find a quiet place to…”

“Now Milaea,” Valens would not permit her to procrastinate, the exceptional circumstances of a Guardians trial the only instance he could tell a female what to do.

Kassyndra might’ve wished to remain ignorant of what Valens insisted Milaea tell her.

As soon as her granddaughter began to speak, she had to shore her strength with Aephrodaea’s Grace to hear it, Milaea to say it.

Kassyndra knew her daughters had died, she had felt it while still enslaved halfway across the galaxy. 

What she did not know, what only two of the People did, was exactly how that had happened, what the Outsider Dark side Cultist the Quarren - the fiend didn’t deserve the honour of a name – had done to Shilea and Cilina.

The conversation was short but seemed endless as the depth of pain the memory held.  The shock was deep, the anger cold. The tears and embrace between grandmother and granddaughter warm in their wake.

The burden was not lifted but at least shared, across a dozen pairs of shoulders trained and tested to bear it. 

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on May 09, 2020, 08:23:33 PM
I've always enjoyed the various "training montages" that we here in the Forums seem to enjoy writing (and reading  ;)) about so much but these last chapters are that much more compelling as a collective character study into both our individual Aethans as well as the culture in general.  And while I like cheering them on for their individual successes (especially Lydan: good job emerging from the shell^^), I'm a little disheartened by the motives (READ: NOT THE WRITING/STORY/ETC; THESE ARE AWESOME!!!): the Aethans have had to learn and adapt in some of the worst conditions (slavery, kidnapping, murder to name a few), retreating and reinforcing an innate insular nature while trying to prepare for the worst that the galaxy has.  And each and every one of them have to learn those lessons the hard way...

Again, what's so compelling about this story is that we really get a peak behind the Force demigods and instead are able to see them in the realm of mortals, as real people.  And like all people, they have their dreams, aspirations, and foibles driving them and their actions.

A bit of a personal favorite scene: Maeson's "test:" given the overwhelming feelings of despondency and inadequacy he's suffered, he's confronted with one of the most painful object lessons that one can learn.  Great writing LSG, powerful chapters  :)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 21, 2020, 02:49:59 AM
 
Chapter 6 — Where the Heart is — Unions — Part 1

Valens

(https://i.ibb.co/MPhgXfp/V-61.jpg) (https://ibb.co/MPhgXfp)

The vibrations chained through the grey-sleet as they stood dead still in the near lightless passage ways.

Genetically perfected eyes caught rough outlines in a grey-green as they sensed the movement with gravit-vestibular senses that detected motion and movements of mass within and around them.

There were at least five Volurks nearby, four half a metre long one nearly two metres, possibly the mother, the depths of the melt formed tunnels beneath the eastern mountains were filled with the pallid but vicious creatures that plied the dark still waters for eyeless fish, or any terrestrial creature foolish enough to try and take shelter here from a storm. 

Passing out of range Valens stood, his brown hair and firm features tinged by the subterranean cold as his brother rose in turn, Lydan behind him with somewhat stilted movements.

<Stay close> Jarys telepathically added to Lydan. Volurks were not overly dangerous individually, but with poisoned claws and natural abilities to stalk silently though the tunnels could ambush and overwhelms an Aethan in numbers, they had avoided them by sticking to tunnels where they had recently fed or hunted and unlikely to return to.

Moving slowly and quietly, aetheric presence supressed to an infinitesimal point they checked the rock strata for the layers they sought.

This was a new tradition that Valens had devised to make Sofa feel more at home, Jarys and Lydan essential to its completion.

In the damp stale air they plunged further and further, the strata changed to the more jagged metamorphic layers replete with jutting quartz even the odd hexagonal staurolite, Aethas geological history was a varied and chaotic one tossed to and fro at the whims of the deep cores extreme gravity.

<Keep your senses tuned for anything that seems to scatter the aether back…> Valens noted,
<And anything that seems bright…>

Valens was in front, Jarys centre and Lydan at the near, the caverns began to narrow further and further, crouching now half their attention was on looking for required materials, the other half the growing number of volurks nearby.

A kind of…sparkle…in the aether bounded off a small area just by Valens feet.

<Here…>

They moved quickly, Valens and Lydan kept look out while Jarys, physically strongest by a small margin over Valens and a larger one over Lydan who was still 15 years from his second and final growth phase, chipped around the cluster with a Blackstone chisel, prying with a crow bar when it was free. 

They supressed the vibrations and attendant sounds as best they could, the heat as well…

<Done>

Half of their quarry collected they carefully pushed deeper.

The last component was the rarest, but most critical for what Valens had planned…yet he was keenly aware there was a strong possibility there would be none exposed.

Another twenty minutes and the caverns were becoming overly tight for them to fit

<We should head back, if the Volurks strike we can’t maneuverer> Jarys said

<Just a little further> Valens replied, Jarys rarely saw his brother so…unwary

Love makes us do strange things he mused on an Outsider concept that had no real parallel in Aethan culture.

If Valens were obeying Sofa’s order he would understand, but Valens was trying to…pre-empt her in a strange way he could only rationalise as an unusual means of courtship.

Now almost on his stomach he final sensed it, the bright film so thin, barely the size of his palm it would be just enough, indeed possibly a little more if they were cautious.

He gently pressed the aether in blade thin lines around it pressing inward to ‘saw’ it…

>EEEEEEE<

Jarys winced, Lydan tried to block his ears and eyes comically as Valens hit a jutting piece behind the rock he had been cutting, the brightness and sound of the Whitescar reflecting his energy back.

Often termed the opposite of Blackstone, Whitescar was in fact a different form of ultrasende mineral that was a blinding white and ‘bounced’ the aether back at high luminosity.  It was rare even on Aethas – so rare none of them had any experience with it, only what they had read in books of their ancestors.

Whatever its properties Valens had to move fast, the Volurks had heard just as well as they did and were moving, a tangling writhing horde of slick legs bounding through lightless caverns.

Not time for subtlety Valens ripped the chunk from the wall.

Lydan was already moving, Jarys close behind. 

Cuts and scratches came by the dozen as their exit became the clumsily mirror of their cautious entry – you could not hide once the Volurk knew you were as the bones in small alcoves they had found surrounded by dried blood attested.

In the lead Lydan came upon an intersection they had passed, instantly hurling up a barrier on the left as at least a dozen volurks exploded toward them, sonar senses sharp as poison filled fangs.

They bounced against the kinetic wall, gnashing and scratching with thin long white limbs.  More came from the right…then behind…Lydan threw up more shields as they gained distance…till they suddenly stopped bashing his shields…

<They’re moving through the thinner tunnels all round!> Jarys realised, they whole mountain was crisscrossed with fist sized holes in the main cavern walls that the Volurks swam through.

Senses all round with every step they threw up another barrier in front of one of the Volruk holes, some began to be bashed upon, others untouched – but they could not risk removing a single one if they were to slow them.

The caverns widened further, their increase in speed matched only by the number of Volurks that sought them from every angle – they began having to release their blocks, allowing Volurks to spill out of their small tunnels 25 meters behind.

Of course they communicated this to their fellows.

Thermal, sonar and auditory senses were filled with the mess of Volurks about them in between stumbling through the caves that seemed so much more cramped when trying to move fast.

This was the Volurks territory, and they were intent on capturing the three increasingly warm bodies.

From under their very feet the rumble of their gliding motion came, the first of their ‘calls’ part vibration in the rock part gurgling screech was heard..

At the next confluence of half a dozen tunnels the first ones got in range.

Valens feet pounded unsteadily over the uneven ground as he wove to avoid the bladed claws and jutting fang filled heads, hurling bursts of lighting backward that the dark dwellers ate up just a greedily as they would his flesh.

More began to leap from their tunnels on the side, Jarys and Lydan weaving and shaking to avoid them.

Their responses differed as the plague increased around them, Jarys lit a shield of lighting, Lydan sucked in his presence to a null field barely a centimetre from him hoping the lack of the aether made him less appealing to eat, Valens simply hurled vortex’s of telekinetic energy.

They didn’t stop, nearly tripped, a dozen times each one of them nearly lost their footing, shored up by each others aetheric nudges.

Finally the bright of the sun outside peeked ahead, the fangs glistening behind them.

So close they could risk it all three in perfect co-ordination broke off some of their defence and teleport shunted nearly 25 metres ahead, in the half reality Valens pivoted and grasped not the Volurks- their aetheric hides too slippery – but the air and compressed it.

Releasing a whoosh of outside air poured in – they could not see the sun but they could certainly taste the unusual mix of micro particles in outside air.

The heat of the sun pressing against the Aethans backs the Volurks realised they had gone too far from their climes.

Warily backing up tot eh cavern mouth Jarys slapped a weary hand on Valens shoulder.

“Thank Goddesses out women are worth it…”

<<<<>>>>


Sofa
(https://i.ibb.co/CbrSMh9/S-4.png) (https://ibb.co/CbrSMh9)
“uuunnnngggg….”

With more than a little drool on her pillow Sofa kept her eyes shut as something irritatingly woke her up

Snapping her fingers she telekinetically hit the light switch illuminating the small room she called her own within Mount Aeila, the Long houses the other preferred not exactly to her liking.

Her toes twitched away from something slighting pointed…nibbling…

“What the Frell…” she shuffled up sensing no threats, at the end of her bed was a furry Gobril that had been pecking at her foot.

“How did you get in here?” its black glassy eyes blinked as it stood on its hind legs, then like a rocket it darted off the bed and sat at the doorway of the neat blue grey and white Chiss interior designed room with the odd personal piece of Hapan or Alderaanian decoration.

Feet hitting the rug she groggily wandered over where it sat expectantly.

She figured better catch it and take it outside, Mount Aelia was still partially under construction and the poor thing could try and eat a plasma conduit or something.

As she reached out it darted into the hall.  That puzzled her, most Gobrils were fairly welcoming of playing with People, they were a companion animal, Adaea had a pet one Debi, Lydan had built small straw filled mini barns near each long house for them to rest in between trips foraging for berries and such.

“What are you up to…” she stepped forward and it darted back again.  Normally if a Gobril was afraid it would create a dozen illusions of itself running all over the place to throw of predators…

“So you don’t want me to pet you but you’re not afraid…”

Its beady eyes blinked and it motioned with its head, then darted off down the hall.

“Alright…no more games,” she sprinted after it.

Gobrils were little and quick, even able to run near on 100kmph without the aether the little furball took her on a winding trip through the main living quarters, the currently near empty armour and workshops, round tight corners and double seal blast zones designed to trap intruders in the event of a breach till it final lead her to the vast open door to a huge only recently excavated void.

There she finally grasped it. 

Puffing slightly as her finger felt the warm fur as the whole vast void was filled with coloured lights that spun like a discoteck then finished pointing at herself and a figure up ahead as a steady pop beat blared through an archaic ‘boom vox’ at the figures feet.

“Looking in your eyes I see a paradise,
This world that I've found is too good to be true”

In black synth leather jacket and swoop biker denim Valens sung the first line and spun around reaching out theatrically every movement in time to the music

“Standing here beside you, want so much to give you
This love in my heart that I'm feeling for you”

The smile on her face was almost painful, the absurdity of the role play as hilarious as the gesture was Romantic.  Mass murderer, psychopath, xenophobe, Valens was all those things – but also the most dedicated and hard working partner she could ever wish for.

The shock wearing off she managed to reply in tune without missing a beat.

“Let 'em say we're crazy, I don't care about that”

A sassy swagger in her step she slid up beside him with a flourishing teleport spin.

“Put your hand in my hand baby don't ever look back”
They did just that

“Let the world around us just fall apart,
Baby we can make it if we're heart to heart!”

Her head on his chest they went right into the duet

“And we can build this thing together, Standing strong forever
Nothing's gonna stop us now,”

He spun her out hands together

“And if this world runs out of lovers, We'll still have each other, Nothing's gonna stop us…”

Arms crisscrossed he pulled her back in
“Nothing's gonna stop us now”

They went through the whole song in all its over the top romantic pop soft rock excess, the light set up flashing and spinning in time with Valens choreography and the song, as it faded he spun to his knee a small box in his hand.

Her heart near stopped squeezing, as it opened to reveal the ring.  It was not necessarily what she would’ve expected…blinding white with a black band and three small inset purple diamonds – Aephrodaean Diamonds as she recalled, quite rare, the white mineral she had never seen…and laced with protective and communication enchantments.

“Sofa Neirai, will you marry me?”

<<<<>>>>

Kiraea

(https://i.ibb.co/MM8MSGB/JK-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/MM8MSGB)

The elation and excitement beaming off the distant Mountain was almost too much.

“She does get excited doesn’t she…” Kiraea said to herself.  There was no precedent for any kind of proposal in Aethan culture, marriages were always arranged to avoid inbreeding, Valens was truly dedicated to making Sofa happy to be so innovative.

Back to her task she carefully sharpened the blackstone arrow head with a bloodstone polishing stone that imparted a glaze of aetheric suppression to the outer to make it hard to detect…

Speaking of hard to detect…

“You’re getting better…” she called

Jarys sighed and stepped out from behind a Obirio tree, on Myrkr he had been more than able to keep concealed from the Jedi, even in their own camps, but still couldn’t seem to sneak up on his betrothed

“But not quite good enough yet my love…hmm isn’t it nice Valens doing this outsider proposal thing…”

“Don’t often see him so incautious…”

“Oh so that was what your little trip was about…”

“A new tradition of sorts…I made this for you an engagement present Valens calls it” he held out the small pouch which Kiraea greedily took.

“Engagement present…hmmm….” Setting down the arrows she took out the carefully crafted necklace, Aephordaean diamond in Blood and Blackstone, White not really Kiraea’s colour, turning it in her hands.

“What does it do?” a hint of suspicion in her voice for anything she had not carefully prepared herself.

“Enhances your speed relative to the surrounding temporal environment, the Bloodstone stores the main aetheric charge, the Diamonds focus the energy into a localized temporal reduction…”

“And the Blackstone?” 

“That you need to imprint with your presence so only you can use it.”

Valens had suggested including an element of a tracing – Sofa liked to have her mate watching over her – Kiraea would not appreciate such a function at all.

“Like so…” she pushed her aura into the thin chain of blackstone, the primed ultradense mineral soaking up the unique signature and chaining it through the other components.

With a single swift motion she put it round her neck, activated it, and leapt the three meters in an instant of static time to knock him off his feet onto the ground, her thighs tight around his sides as her hands pressed his shoulders to the ground.

“Seems to work….” She whispered leaning to his ear,

“Let’s see how well it makes moments last…”

<<<<>>>>

Adaea

All that could be seen by a passer by was two perfectly toned buttocks and thighs sticking out from access panels in the wall of the vast Obelisk Array Ventral chamber.  One in red the other black leather.

Inside the cramped access void Adaea and Milaea were busily connecting up heavy bundles of blackstone conduits mixed by eldritch technique to Chiss circuitry.  Their fingers were sore, backs tight, for this intricate work there was no other way but getting right into it.

Admittedly they were doing more than was necessary in laying all the connections and cables for all Nine Obelisks when they only had one, and that still being worked on, but doing everything now would save time later.

The black hollow was filled with the endless sparks of aetheric lighting from their eyes or finger tips as they tuned the aetheric cabling just so then insulated it from the other eight identical cables to avoid interference.

Adaea had lost track of how long she had been hunched over, long enough for even her seemingly endless focus to tire.

Their full six levels of through focused on the task they only noticed the presence of a visitor at the last minute.

“Lydan!” Milaea creaked out of the small hollow surprised,

The shy boy offered a nod, his body jittery, but no longer from the largely recovered spasms he’d suffered after his healing…no this was nervousness.

“Hello, Milaea, sorry if I interrupted, I wanted to talk to Adaea…but I can come back later,” 

“No…” Milaea replied shifting out fully “We needed a break,”

She gave a gentle slap on Adaea’s rear

“Ada you have a visitor,”

“Hmmmm…oh…just a minute…” came the wall stifled echo of her high pitched voice.

Milaea rolled her eyes - a minute for Adaea when she was working on something often turned into an hour.

Dusting herself off Milaea headed off, Lydan was an open honest young man, his romantic intentions not at all concealed.

“I’ll leave you two to…” Milaea just smiled and headed out rather than finish the sentence.

He patiently waited until thirteen minutes later Adaea popped her head out

“Oh! Lydan what’s wrong?” she said hopping up bones righting themselves once more.

“Nothing I came to…give you a gift…a special engagement gift, If I may of course,”

“An engagement gift…like in the Holomovies…” she smiled  “Of course, how did you get here did Selaeana fly you,”

Adaea was well aware what a big deal coming to the facility built into the small planet of Aeda on the far edge of the Aethas system was, Lydan still had a terrible phobia of technology from his forced cybernetic mutilations long since removed, the flight here would’ve been very intimidating alone.

“No I…I flew myself, I’ve been learning from Sofa and Valens while you’re here working…so I could surprise you…oh…” he rummaged in his leather satchel, he was still dressed in his usual simple clothes.

“Here is your present…” he handed her a small intricately carved wooden box.

Already stunned by his presence, then his learning to fly, she was even more surprised by the two small Purple Aeprohdaean Diamond bracelets within.

The diamonds were in a blackstone chain the hum of enchantment buzzing off them.

“Lydan…did you make this,”

“Well…Valens and Jarys helped me with the first one…”

“Of course but still…” Tired though she was she scanned the objects, the enchantment was a simple but effective one,  by channelling aetheric lightning through the bracelet rather than her finger each diamond could act as a focusing crystal giving her twelve precise arcs from each bracelet when programming other aetheric objects. 

Instead without pause or warning she leapt up arms and legs around him, his strong frame built over months of fending off vorynx and vosis, building barns, felling trees and carrying young gromin easily holding her 270 kilograms and carrying her to the small kitchenette for the picnic he brought full of the produce he Maeson and Melron with Extolled Assistance were farming.

It was a gift perfectly suited to her work, a perfectly deferential surprise visit - her only regret was being too tired to thank him in the way she wanted…

<<<<<>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 21, 2020, 02:57:18 AM
Chapter 6 — Where the Heart is — Unions — Part 2

Bridal Party

“…and over and through, and over and through…”

“OK I get it!” Sofa snapped

Sofa loved beautiful clothes and furnishing, Hapan, Naboo and Alderaan styles in particular. 

Ever since she was little she had drawn pictures of beautiful elaborate dresses, much to the disapproval of Jedi tutors for her ‘vanity’. And most of all Sofa loved buying beautiful clothes or having them bought for her.

She was not so keen on making a dress herself.

Yet for the last three days she had been spinning, weaving and stitching to do just that under Kassyndra’s guidance. 

Her main motivation now for pushing through this chore was not to get it ready in time for the weddings but to beat Kiraea who across the hearth was advancing much more rapidly on her wedding dress.

Tradition dictated that every woman would sew her own dress for her wedding, and stitch their own family ribbon.

In the absence of any blood relations Sofa had wanted to take Milaea’s colours, but the Black and Blue would be inappropriate - given Valens was all Black it would appear incestuous - so instead she took pure bridal white, meaning her children would have a pleasing black and white for their ribbons.

“That is better,” Kassyndra noted as the instinctive aetheric connection flowed experience between them, yet Sofa could sense the sadness beneath.

The last time Kassyndra did this it was with her own daughters, Shilea and Cilina, to marry Valens and Jarys respectively….there was a sadness to her aura but no anger.

Adaea having long finished her dress was sewing a larger tapestry with Milaea, Selaena and Lyaea in and out with fire wood and small celebration cakes.

It was terribly homely and cliché like a scene from a period drama, yet for all that felt warm.

“So…is there any kind of party the night before?” Sofa inquired ehile keeping her eyes keen on each stitch

“Party?” Kassyndra asked

“You know like in holo-drama’s where all the bridesmaids go out and get drunk at strip clubs on the night before the wedding,”

“Oh…well usually there would be a feast at the Gathering of all People from across the valley before the weddings…” Kassyndra explained sadly.

By tradition weddings were all performed once a year at the Gathering on the first nine days of the spring, the last stores of winter used for a large feast that was paired with a meeting presided over by the Guardians to decide any important issues for the coming year and address any disputes.

Of course with only twelve People….

“I don’t think it’s possible for us to get drunk anyway,” Adaea noted absently stitching an intricate pattern laced with the aether

“Our stomach acids are too powerful, symbiotic bacteria too efficient and enterocytes too selective for foreign proteins to reach our blood streams, and the blood brain barrier is”

“I get it…” Sofa cut her off, they all had the same encyclopaedic eidetic memories, Adaea just seemed more prone to actually receipt from it, especially when nervous, which despite outward appearances she was.

She had been with Lydan for months following his renewal, spent so much time with him on walks and picnics in-between their training her work on the fleet and obelisks, his with the Vong and looking after the herd….but there was one thing neither had ever done and they were very much expected to after the wedding….

“Don’t worry so much…” Kiraea noted to her unspoken thoughts, “You know how it all works, just take your time to see how it works best between the two of you, plus, errnnn”

Kiraea scowled at the missed stitch quickly glancing to see Sofa catching up on her. Yorna had always been better at cottage crafts than Kiraea when they were children…always making shoes when Kiraea lost hers…she wished her blood sister was there tomorrow in more than just spirit.

“plus…you get better at it as you go so don’t worry if it’s not perfect, even Jarys and I first few times were not so brilliant, such a surprisingly slow pace to start off with even when I squeeze my…”

“Kiraea….please!” Sofa interrupted again not wishing to know the overwhelming details she so freely shared.

“Hmmm…I know…just…I worry about him getting nervous too, which would make me nervous,” Adaea finally spoke

“Just channel Aephrodaea within you, she’ll take care of the rest if you need help,” Selaena suggested Sofa slightly discomfited by the likelihood Selaena would start offering her soon to be daughter in law bedroom tips.

“There done!” Sofa triumphantly held the dress up to avoid such a conversation

“Oh yes, done!” Kiraea cut in

Kassyndra looked at the two dresses, there were a few minor errors, but overall they were well done…the last time she had looked over such was….

Milaea’s hand was around her shoulder even as the thoughts of her lost daughters bubbled up.

“I’m sorry girls…” Kassyndra’s voice wavering “this should be a time of celebration,”

“It’s alright mother,” Milaea comforted “They are not forgotten…”

A brief moment of reflection passed across the women, for those two girls and all the others lost to them.

For now… Milaea thought, her work on healing the People by repairing the Obelisk was progressing quickly now. She knew they would not find many, but even one would be enough.

“How about some music before the blessings?” Lyaea broke the silence, always up for a good time,

“Oh yes!” Adaea beamed “Let’s sing the Hymns of Fecundity,”

Sofa nearly gagged at the thought of chanting about the ‘soils of her womb’ fortunately Lyaea intervened

“ermm…maybe later how about something different…more…pop?”

Taking out her iholo, still an object of fascination to Kassyndra, she put on some karaoke tracks.

It was hardly traditional music in any sense, but with the engagement gifts Valens had instigated they were already changing.

Alone, in pairs, or odd groupings they sang to the well known ballads, pop and rock songs, even Selaena added her surprisingly light singing voice to a few as they drank back litres of Gormin milk and ate dozens of small pies and pastries.

Milaea taught Kassyndra how to make aetheric ‘fire works’ to light up the long house in fluro blue’s, reds and purples, Lyaea removed all but the barest of her clothing dancing very suggestively with Kiraea, Sofa kept to her usual soft-rock inspired moves.

Levity and laughter filled the house until the moon light peaked in at the appointed hour and Selaena brought a temporary halt to the festivities for the final part of the tradition.

As a group the walked the short distance to the Caverns of Aephrodaea, the last night of winter’s air chill enough to cause their dancing heat to wisp off them.

Kassyndra as eldest lead the way with a torch and quickly lit the braziers within the cavern.

Wordlessly everyone removed their clothes to enter the sacred space.  Sofa wasn’t sure exactly what the Blessing involved but the way Kiraea playfully pinched Lyaea after their more than friendly dancing made her eyes widen.

“Alright Sofa you can go first,” Kassyndra explained directing them into a small side cavern the walls etched with images of Aephrodaea of Fertility and Birth, a small pool in the middle.

The older woman pointed to the pool, with shrug Sofa stepped in.  The water was absolutely freezing as her toe dipped in as instructions flowed into her mind direct from…

Not the other women…the cavern itself…but…more than that… Sofa realised, enchantments were common in Aethan society…but this seemed more in a way she couldn’t explain, like a voice/

She had to stand naked in the special pool right as the other women lined up to perform the Blessing of the Womb. They knelt in front of her and kissed her abdomen in line with her womb after reciting a blessing thereby indicating their love and support of all her children before they had even been conceived.

Strange as it was there was something very heartfelt about it Sofa liked.

Milaea strode off to the back of the line as Adaea stepped forward and knelt before her.

“I bless your children with the wisdom and foresight of Aethenaea” she said before her quick but warm kiss…It wasn’t so bad, a pre-emptive bridesmaids baby shower…

“I bless your children with the strength and courage of Aertemisaea”, Selaena followed

“I bless your children with the compassion and beauty of Aephrodaea” Lyaea after that

The first three were always the same ritualised blessings given to every child.

“I bless your children with the ability to hunt and kill like Aertemisaea, the cunning and trickery of Aethenaea, and the sexual prowess of Aephordaea,”  Kiraea’s blessing kiss lingered a little too long for Sofa’s liking…or perhaps not long enough, Kiraea winked from below as she parted.

“I bless your children with long life and good health, may they always remain close to the Goddesses as safe in their embrace,” Kassyndra followed on, again there was unconcealed sadness for the last time she had performed this ritual was with her own daughters. Again Milaea was quick to offer some comfort to her grandmother before kneeling herself.

“I bless your children with all the best qualities of their mother and father, the generosity of their grandmother Lyssia, the dedication of their great grandfather Andis, and the compassion and gentle spirit of their grandfather Soryu,” Milaea’s kiss was the warmest yet and seemed to flow heat across Sofa’s torso…

Suddenly Milaea leaned forward and hugged Sofa at the hips her cheek resting on Sofa’s stomach and her long red gold hair brushing Sofa in places she never would’ve imagined her former apprentice’s hair would touch.

“I promise, with all my power I’ll keep your and all the new children of the People safe as I can” Milaea added, with that she stood, Sofa gave her an appreciative hug and with that the entire ceremony was over.

“Thank you Mili, I appreciate it,” She added as she stepped out of the pool onto the various towels and rugs placed around the sacred area. 

“Right now it’s my babies turn for the blessing…” Kiraea leapt up as Sofa left the pool and gave her a suggestive wink…

here goes…

<<<<>>>>

Bachelors

The Memorial statue was lit by the nine ever burning aetheric fires ahead.

The brothers began a slow procession each cradling a small candle.

Though they might have moved on, they still remembered and would honour their first wives memory, and all the dreams they had never to be fulfilled.

Lock in step Jarys and Valens placed the blue burning candles before the large statue, the two female figures cradled by the Goddess were modelled on their lost loves likenesses, Cilina and Shilea, an ever present reminder to them.

Though they had only each had one night together before the Devastation, they had grown up together, friends perhaps more than lovers…they simply never had the time for it to fully grow.

Their burden sitting on the stone tile – at least in part – they turned to each other and embraced.

One day the two of them would go to Nar Shadda where their wives had been tormented and killed, one day they would have their vengeance if not on the now long dead individuals, but the entire Hutt and Outsider culture that had perpetrated the sins. 

When they did it would be at the head of an Army of Aethans followed by Legions of Extolled and Sons and Kessel to liberate and purge in equal measure.

“Come brother,” Jarys said after a few moments looking to where Maeson and Melron were setting up under the light of the first full Spring moon.

“We must keep living…there is still much to be done,”

Both tonight and in the years to come. Valens thought.

<<<<>>>>


Union

(https://i.ibb.co/Qm5Bv4G/S-46.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Qm5Bv4G)

Aethan Weddings were less solemn vow giving and receiving than public acknowledgement of a betrothal or existing relationship.

Even so it still had elements of ceremony.

Milaea and Lyaea covered the ground in petals and spring growths of specific plants used in fertility potions, Maeson and Melron erected a twinning arch of branches, Selaena as a woman the only one able to add the sacred Triquetra atop it.

The three brides in their newly fashioned white gowns, coloured by their Aephrodaean diamonds engagement gifts, stood on the left opposite the grooms in newly stitched leathers on the right, lined before a statue of the goddesses at the focal point of a large semicircular open air theatre. 

It still showed a few signs of the two decades it had been abandoned to the elements despite the men’s efforts to clean and repair it over the last two days.

Kassyndra as the eldest stepped before them to perform the simple task of declaring the union. 

She had been hesitant to do so, Selaena had offered to take over if she needed, but Kassyndra needed to do this herself, to help move on.  Looking to her granddaughter for strength and comfort she began.

“We come to all witness what the Goddesses have already enjoined in these couple, Kiraea and Jarys, Sofa and Valens, Adaea and Lydan, let all know they are wed from this day. 

May they and their children be wise as Aethenaea, strong as Aertemisaea and fertile as Aephrodaea, and their lives as one be blessed…”

She gestured forward and the pairs raised their hands to meet between them.

Aetheric lighting flowed from both bride and groom, mingling and twisting over each other’s arms then bodies, their aetheric presence tightening, two rivers joining as one till the connection that drew the energy from within and without was fully one.

The bonding ritual complete and witnessed by the People, the Planet and their Goddesses Milaea flicked her wrist with a red glowing flourish for an innovative surprise. 

Half a bloodstone dozen orbs she had been experimenting in stolen moments with for her own secret Project Persephaea erupted with flares of aetheric energy in the morning key creating fireworks of luminous purple and red against the white spring cloud backdrop, the tips of the Northern Cordillera behind.

The Ceremony over they headed to the large table for the feast, Valens theatrically carryover Sofa who tossed a bouquet for reasons that left everyone but her and Milaea perplexed.

Covered in some of the new growth fruits, berries and seeds from the Extolled enhanced soils of the Jungle isles, as well as some meat in the form of Gopin breast Lydan and Maseon had prepared. 

As always the centrepiece was a large stew voraciously consumed as they sat beneath the glimmering sunshine.

The afternoon was filled with traditional games and dances, a caber toss that everyone had Jarys pegged to win was snatched by a meter by Lydan stunning everyone and making Adaea more than a little excited.

A stone put game in which they hurled a small rounded grey sleet rock through a ring barely half a millimetre wide enough to fit it.  Selaena, ever the sniper, unsurprisingly won that one getting four of five shots through.

An archery competition came down to Lyaea and Kiraea each of their hand crafted Blackstone bolts ramming into the heavy target like drills, by the end it was decided Lyaea had won after Kiraea frustrated shot blew the target apart – they couldn’t tell if it hit the mark from the wreckage.

Maeson and Kassyndra played off in three simultaneous games of Go-Stone a chess and checkers like game over six interacting boards, keeping all six levels of conscious thought active and integrated. Melron recited new Saga’s he had been writing chronicling their own life stories, there were certain elements of exaggeration – Grand Master Kimar renamed the Kim-Uur a fearsome six horned beast that reigned over the Jedaai warriors and ironically made the Ikotchi backstabber sound far more noble than he had been, and his final battle more evenly matched.

“These are the truths as we see them,” Melron explained “And will keep the young ones more entertained.”

By the time the sun was setting Milaea had begun sketching a picture of the assembled party that she would later turn into a tapestry, imbuing a small memory orb with the aetheric aura of the day as it progressed so the feeling could be etched in gormin wool and flax for future generations to recall, the first Wedding since the Devastation.

As the time for the evening meal approached Adaea was barely restraining herself after Lydan won another competition, this time the wrestling against Valens – Milaea suspected in both victories the fully developed post second puberty adult men had gone slightly easy on the younger one, but not noticeably, Lydan was certainly developing strongly, compared to the half alive lump of flesh he had been it was astounding to see.

Their goodbyes made Adaea and Lydan headed to one of three small cabins traditionally reserved for new couples some three kilometres away in a small gully, each surrounded by trees and a creek for privacy – though it was inevitable Kiraea would talk on what occurred for weeks after and pry it out of Adaea and Sofa too.

The small baked cakes Lyaea had made finished, things wound up, Maeson clearing the tables, Kassyndra piling up the scraps she didn’t feed to the curious Gobrils that that attended the wedding since the morning for the gopins.

The final waves passed they each headed to their homes or cabins, Jarys and Kiraea however vanishing – quite literally with their buried presence techniques – into the forest, Kiraea making good no doubt on her desire to make love with her husband beneath the open sky.

It was not exactly the wedding Sofa had imagined as a girl, but it was certainly better than the absence of one she would’ve had as a Jedi.  Wandering along the path to the cabin she let her hair run loose in the breeze.

Valens closed the door the cabin sharply.

“One more surprise…” he whispered heading to a small table in the wood and rug filled single room wher there was a very out of place Chiss satchel.

Drawing out the contents he handed it to Sofa,

Her eyes beamed as she scanned the documents,

“Are…I mean is it safe to go?” she near squealed

“Of course, we have to keep a low profile but Lyr has arranged everything up front for maximum discretion,”

Her arms near broke his neck in the hug.  She wouldn’t have minded a few days in the cabin together as a honeymoon but this…this was even better.

She was finally getting to not just holiday – honeymoon! in Hapes!

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on May 25, 2020, 03:19:41 AM
OK, this is easily one of my favorite chapters, LSG  :)

Once again, I like seeing the...softer side of your characters.  It's telling that the Aethans would incorporate Outsider traditions, all for Sofa's benefit.  Yet the sharing is not just one way: we see how Sofa adapts to her new culture, courtesy of Kassyndra's needlework.  And by such, we see the extended family draw together that much more tightly.  Speaking of...

It serves as a reminder that the Aethans didn't start out like how they've become, forced by circumstance and the base intent of those that would have them enslaved.  And that's what makes this so enjoyable: it could be a celebration between husband and wife ANYWHERE.  The fact that we see it in a galaxy far, far away is just as endearing  :)

Oh, and the ordeal to just obtain those diamonds is testament to the mens' commitment to their wives-to-be^^

...Besides, how much more appropriate is Valens' musical choice than StarShip?   ;) ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on May 26, 2020, 08:17:00 PM
Finally had a chance to catch up...

Honeymoon in Hapes?   Why does this seem ... omninous?   ;-)

Great chapter, love the peeks into the "real life" of the Aethans.  The continued need for vengance expressed by Valens and Jarys is down-right terrifying in a way, though, if only because of the very power they are talking about wielding...


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on June 16, 2020, 11:10:33 PM
Special thanks to LSG for trusting me with his characters^^
This chapter is dedicated to him  :)
****************************
Chapter 7 – Where the Heart Is – In Good Times… – Part I

Sofa


(https://i.ibb.co/n6k5hf0/301047-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/n6k5hf0)

Sofa lay forward, her naked skin touching Valens’ chest as their steady breathing slowed, already in rhythm as their lungs efficiently processed blood oxygenation.  Inhaling, Sofa luxuriated in the comforting pleasantness of her husband, vaguely aware of the significant differences that her Aethan biology provided her, in this case, lovemaking.

Valens’ hands caressed her back, the sheen of sweat only enhancing the feel.  Sofa smiled lethargically, her thoughts affixed on the contradictory senses that his touch elicited: his hand and arm felt as hard as durasteel yet his stroking fingers were as gentle as the Hapan summer breeze.  Beneath her cheek, Valens’ chest rose and fell steadily where, again, the firmness of his muscles seemed more relaxing than even the softest bliz plumage-filled Zsajhira pillows under-head.  And every time she opened her eyes, she couldn’t help but stare wonderingly at the gorgeous white and black wedding band adorned with three brilliant purple Aephrodaean Diamonds.

“They’re beautiful…” She whispered, not for the first time.

“So are you.” Valens voice was uncharacteristically soft, his eyes as vivid as the diamonds on her ring.  Cupping her face, he kissed her passionately, deeply.  She felt once again the stirrings of excitement within her, first from her toes up her legs, then from her navel up to her neck, a warm sensation pulsing from down below.  Biting her lip, Sofa moaned softly as Valens’ hands seemed to explore her entire body, all at once both hard…and gentle.  “Again?” Valens amused tone had a hunger about it, one that was only partially due to the hormonal influx produced by Sofa’s Aethan biological imperative, known as Aephrodaea’s Desire.  The glint in his eyes became almost predatory…

…Consequently mirroring Sofa’s own desires.  “Oh yes…” She purred.  “I can tell that you’re already up to the occasion.” She laughed enthusiastically, quickly joined by Valens’ own husky chuckle.  But his expression changed soon enough, intent upon the sensuous task he’d given his complete attention to.  Sofa once again allowed herself to focus all six consciousnesses, all at one with her husband and in the moment.

A moment that lasted a considerable time.

Laying on her side, Valens’ strong arms wrapped around her protectively, Sofa smiled broadly as Valens whispered in her ear.  “Honeymoon wishes for you.”  It wasn’t often that she heard that particular jovial tone come from his mouth.  She savored it, enfolding the memory in the Aether so she could recollect it anytime at whim.

“Actually it’s ‘happy honeymoon.’” She teased, her eyes lazily closed as Valens’ finger traced a line from her throat downwards.  “Mmm…” She arched her back.

“Outsiders say the strangest things…” Even though she couldn’t see his face, Sofa could almost see the half-serious look on her husband’s face.  Of course, a “honeymoon” was a foreign concept to the People, especially one as collective as the Aethans.  But, much like his proposal, Valens had wanted to honor and surprise his wife-to-be with something that she’d always wanted: a vacation to Hapes Prime.

As a former Jedi, Sofa had been told that any dealings with the Hapes Consortium would be…problematic at best.  At worst?  Well…there was a reason that the Order had all but ignored the Consortium for centuries, one that even now saw Jedi as little more than dogs in the eyes of the Hapans.  But Sofa had so wanted to experience the incredible opulence that the Consortium boasted, from fine Pogam-blood wines to the expensive byrlewood furniture and panels found only in the most prestigious of rooms, most of those belonging to House Royal.

Most…but not all.  Should one, say, have the connections—and of course the wealth—then one could secure one of the lavishly gorgeous suites offered by the Royal Courtesans’ Willow Château located in the Hapan capital of Ta'a Chume'Dan.  Aside from the prestige and provenance of the rooms themselves, the Willow Château also held the distinct (and indeed, singular) honor of overlooking the actual Castle of Per’Agthra, the Queen Mother’s own Fountain Palace itself.

It was a sight of majesty that Sofa had long dreamed of seeing, one that she now held before her eyes as she focused upon the tableau conveniently displayed outside the Bridal Suite’s balconies of Willow Château.  Almost as beautiful as her ring…

Turning, she lay face-to-face with Valens, a satisfied smile touching his lips.  “If we continue like this, there won’t be much of a ‘Bridal Suite’ left…” His eyes looked around the room deliberately.  A curious look on her face, Sofa followed Valens’ gaze.  “Oh, frell!  What…how…?” She tried to stifle the laughter that even now threatened to erupt forth, only partially successful.  “Was…was that…us?” She hid one eye behind her palm, both incredulous and amazed.

Almost every single standing piece of furniture showed signs of disrepair, many broken, and even a few—like the priceless Zsajhira vanity, its mirror actually an amalgam of Kamarian crystals laboriously fused into one reflective surface—completely obliterated.  “I…I just didn’t realize…” Sofa’s voice trailed off in disbelief.

“You’re welcome.” Valens’ normally stoic voice had a decidedly pleased tone to it.  Sofa playfully slapped his shoulder, causing both to collapse in laughter.  And as they lay entangled in one another’s limbs, the worries of the galaxy forgotten (at least for the moment), they knew only that they were woman and man, their shared love shielding them from their burdens.

They were well and truly married: a wife, a husband, and their goddesses.

               
<<<< >>>>

Honeymoon Couple

(https://i.ibb.co/FYY29cD/hawkeye-avengers-age-of-ultron-jeremy-renner-1555341380.jpg) (https://ibb.co/FYY29cD)

“By the Goddesses…” Sofa’s voice trailed off, in awe of the sight before her.  “It’s gorgeous!”

As Sofa looked at herself in the three-way mirror, she gave a little flourish, the radiant gossamer fabric of her dress covering her from neck to ankle while leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Form-fitting yet comfortable, the garment was made of special hisp-silk native to Consortium worlds.  Reactive to sunlight, the dress was almost translucent, hinting what was covered yet also accompanied with a perpetual aura that surrounded the piece; in this case, a ruby red long-sleeved affair with a slit up the right side, exposing Sofa’s long leg.  It was the perfect marriage of fashion and technology, an aspect of Hapan culture that was as innate to them as breathing.

“Excellent choice, mistress…” The male attendant’s—Merkil he’d supplied when introducing himself—tone was full of unfeigned approval.  “And might I be as so bold to opine: crimson really is your color.”  With expert precision, he gave a light fluffing to the skirt, smoothing out any imagined wrinkles that the fabric would never in reality acquire.  “I also have these rare blood-diamonds that accessorize this outfit perfectly.” He held out a pair of earrings, three stones of increasing size that hung from aurodium ropes.

Sofa looked at the earrings.  “…Those are beautiful…but I was in the market for something a little more…rare.”  She saw Merkil’s face go blank.  …So that’s how he wants to play it… She smiled inwardly, looking forward to the game.  “Something…royal.”  Sofa fell silent, having said the correct phrases in both order and inflection.  The attendant was good; Merkil’s face remained completely impassive.

His reaction in the Aether, however, was altogether an entirely different situation.  She could feel the spike of anticipation stab outward, radiant waves of eagerness fueled by his avarice.

“…I see.  So mistress, you wish to peruse the special?  One moment.”  Merkil disappeared, leaving them alone in their opulent private changing parlor.  After all, they were visiting nobles from the Core Worlds…or so he’d been told.  All that really mattered is that they’d shown proof of funds.  As soon as he had processed the datanode attached to their account, Merkil’s smile had grown twice as large.  Hence the private parlor.

But that was only half of what would help Sofa obtain what she had really wanted from her Hapan Honeymoon (well…besides her time with Valens).  And now that she’d spoken the correct cypher—pulled from the head of one of House Royal’s ministers courtesy of Valens—Sofa’s stomach felt as if it were full of butterflies.  After all, it wasn’t every day that one got to see a gemstone that was worth more than a Mon Calamarian cruiser…

Upon Merkil’s return, Sofa saw that he’d not come empty-handed.  “Here you are, mistress.  Our house special, endorsed by the Queen Mother herself, may Her Radiance illuminate eternal.”  Holding up a forcefield cube, she could see that held within the center of the security device was a small yet brilliant gem that seemed to glow from within.  “This is our one-carat rainbow gem.  If you would be as so kind as to choose the setting of your desire then I shall fabricate the diadem for you.”

Rainbow gems.  Not true jewels, they were actually silicon-based lifeforms that only matured after thousands of years.  Their value was beyond what most people could imagine much less afford.  And according to rumor, Ta’a Chume had an entire crown made of them.

A crown worth more than an entire star-system.

Ironically, rainbow gems could also be used in lieu of a kyber crystal to power lightsabers.  Almost every single Padawan had told stories of how they’d “find” a rainbow gem to build a legacy saber, one that would ensure their immortality in the stories told by future generations, themselves the galaxy’s chosen hero, naturally.

…Foolish child’s dreams… Sofa couldn’t help but think, capricious imaginings from a more simple time.  A girl from a more…innocent time.

Mentally she shook her head; there was no reason to go down such dark hyperspace lanes.  She was happy, her husband by her side, indulging in her every desire.  Speaking of…

“The bezel setting, flanked by two blood rubies, please.” Sofa wanted to squeal; regardless of her earlier self-rebuke, this was a dream come true!

Valens stood opposite the attendant, a small smile playing upon his face.  From the corner of her eye, Sofa took in the sight of her husband.  Even she had to admit that he—like the dress—was quite a vision himself.  Attired in bespoke trousers and sleeveless leather shirt, both black with a mother-of-pearl veneer which gave one the impression that a rainbow played across the clothing according to the wearer’s movements, Valens looked every centimeter of what locals referred to as “krasavchik.”

Which, roughly translated, meant “a Queen’s man”…as in “the Queen Mother, may Her Radiance illuminate eternal.”  It was the most prestigious compliment that a Hapan woman could give a Hapan male, and in a purely matriarchal society like Hapes, that was saying a lot.

…Of course my man would be considered such… Sofa reflected, pride beaming from her.  With his muscular arms, masculine face, athletic build—nice backside, she thought mischievously—Valens could be quite…intimidating.  …Good thing, too… Her smile faltered slightly, thinking of the morning.

Heading out from their Bridal Suite, Valens had “suggested” that the room’s furniture was not appropriate for a woman of Sofa’s stature and that it should be “replaced immediately.”  All of this to the maître d' of Willow Château who had come knocking last night with “noise complaints” even though the Bridal Suite took up the entire top floor. 

After only 30 seconds with Valens, the man had changed his tune from “imperious” to “contrite.”  No, that wasn’t really it.  More like “penitent.”  And that was with only a touch of the Aether, used to expedite the cleaning and not for intimidation.

Valens could do that all on his own.

Leaving Willow Château to continue Sofa’s honeymoon itinerary, the two of them took an open-air speeder carriage to the Market District where any male HAD to be accompanied by a female in order to enter, much less purchase anything.

Ambling from shop to shop deliberately at their leisure, Sofa perused EVERYTHING: from high-end makeup (a holdover from her time as a Padawan), then lush foods (especially the confectionery), and finally expensive clothes.  All the while, Valens was a permanent fixture hovering just over her shoulder, consequent of his protective nature rather than because of any adherence to Hapan dictates…

Although ironically the social mores between Aethan and Hapan culture were more aligned than many others within the galaxy; after all, both were matriarchally dominate.  However, one notable difference was that Aethan meritocratic values gave males a form of respect and status; her own husband, much to the delight of her ego, being “Warchief.”  Hapan males were universally and definitely relegated to second-class citizenry.

The only thing worse than a male who did not defer to a woman was a Jedi.

Anti-Jedi sentiment stemmed from the depths of Hapan history when millennia before there ever was a Hapan Consortium the Jedi defeated the Lorell Raiders from which all Hapans were descended from, driving them back into the Hapes Cluster, never mind that the Raiders were the aggressor.  But history is always rewritten by those with an agenda.

Every Jedi knew the stories, knew that even their occasional diplomatic envoys were barely tolerated, the only mitigating factor being that mutual trade was not only lucrative but indeed almost a necessity: with virtually unlimited wealth at its disposal, the Consortium was a prime source of vendor resources, able to prop up governments…or bankrupt them.  And anytime the galaxy at large heard of the more…violent incidents of anti-Jedism coming out of the Hapes Cluster, such condemnations were quickly forgotten or silenced by the influx of seemingly endless Consortium credits that poured forth into the galactic economy.

And unfortunately for Sofa, even Aethans were victims of forgetfulness.

Merkil escorted both of them to the retailer’s executive (a female of course), bowing himself out of the exquisite room to complete Sofa’s order of the Rainbow gem diadem as well as her considerable cache of lavish clothing.

Speaking in posh-if-pretentious Basic (free of the almost universal indigenous Hapan accent), the executive introduced herself as Xqiu Flen.  “I trust that Merkil was adequate in his assistance?” It sounded more a statement than a question.  “You’ve made some excellent choices.  Of course, the Queen Mother—may Her Radiance illuminate eternal—frequents our establishment.  You’ll find nothing wanting.  Your datanode, if you please.”  Again, not an interrogative.

“Of course.” Sofa practically beamed, casually opening her purse wide for anyone to see into.  And Xqiu Flen did exactly that.

Immediately Sofa could feel the difference within the Aether.  “Actually, we will not be accepting your business.  You and your male are to leave.  Now.”  The look in the executive’s eyes was one of open hatred.  …What the frell…?  Sofa’s eyebrows drew inwards towards her nose in a frown.

“What?  My money isn’t good enough here?” Something from deep within stirred.  Suddenly, she remembered the ridicule that her fellow padawans—Jedi even!—would mock her with, cries of “Six-credit Sofa!” all too clear in her memory.  “Listen, I could buy this entire store you kriffing—” She started to say only to be rudely cut off.

“NOTHING about you is ‘good enough’ here…you Jedi-loving quim!”  Xqiu Flen’s tone was equal parts accusation and disgust.  “Leave now before I call Security you tralk!”  Her finger moved to activate an unmarked button.

“Stop.” Valens was suddenly right there in front of the Hapan woman.  Sofa could see that he’d done…something with the Aether.  It reminded her of Delving but…but it also looked like…like some kind of Compulsion?  Whatever he’d done, Xqiu Flen’s eyes glazed over, her tongue hanging partially out of her mouth with her entire body frozen.  “You will conclude the sale for the items that my wife has chosen.  You will then contact the owner and tell them that you resign in the rudest way possible.  You will remember nothing of this incident or us, only as wealthy if unremarkable patrons.”  For all the emotion in his tone, Valens could have been discussing Galactic Trade Agreements or else some other boring topic.  But the look on Xqiu Flen’s face was priceless.  Valens paused before adding, “And you will give my wife a substantial discount for your discourtesy.  Go.  Now.”

Sofa couldn’t help but smile, grateful for her husband’s loyalty and chivalry.  But it was all too fleeting amidst the mood of the moment.

Exiting the building with their considerable baggage in tow, they made their way back to Willow Château via speeder carriage in silence.  Yet Sofa’s emotions were a roiling tempest burning within her, memories she’d thought long suppressed or dealt with threatening to overwhelm her.  That and damning herself a fool.  She knew exactly what her mistake had been.

When she’d finally passed her Tests, Soryu had been so happy, so proud of her.  To commemorate the occasion, he’d personally made her a medallion of homogoni wood in the form of the Jedi Order’s emblem.  What made it so special wasn’t the fact that its cells were bound together by the Force but that it was one of the only presents that Soryu had ever given her, one that she had kept…

…In her purse.

It wasn’t until Sofa and Valens had taken the turbolift up to the Bridal Suite, the doors closing silently behind them, that they spoke.  But that wasn’t exactly right either; Sofa did not speak.

She raged.

               
<<<< >>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on June 16, 2020, 11:11:10 PM
Chapter 7 – Where the Heart Is – In Good Times… – Part II

Sofa


(https://i.ibb.co/khfvgL5/Eva-Green-Looks-Up-With-Serious-Expression-On-Her-Face-408x408.jpg) (https://ibb.co/khfvgL5)

“I HATE her!” Sofa’s voice echoed throughout the immaculately clean and refurbished rooms, and not for the first time.  Soon after having stepped foot within the Bridal Suite, Sofa let forth all of her rage, everything that she’d endured: the names, the ridicule, all of the hateful mockery that came in waves of jealousy…

The collected padawans would point at her, shrill, judgmental proclamations of “Slufest Sofa Ryloth-kissed a Selphi!” following her across the quad as everyone looked at her, their disapproval heavy in their eyes. 

Sofa could feel her jaw clenched so hard that her grinding teeth could be audibly heard.  “I hate them all…” The volume of her voice almost normal.  That particular slur had followed her for years.  And just as bad—in fact, even worse—were the so-called masters; the ones that would tell her in no uncertain terms that she was to blame…

“Of course they would call you that; no true self-respecting virtuous Jedi would dress in such a…provocative manner.  Now go wipe that paint off of your lips and face.”  The tone of barely concealed disgust incongruous with the almost-kindly faces of her teachers, accusations all but outright stated.

Next came the tears.  “No more…” She whispered.  As rivulets ran down her cheeks unchecked, unforgotten distraught pain giving way to unbridled rage, Sofa began to sob while incoherent syllables worked their way from her mouth.  But what lay beneath those memories was the doorway that led to the darkest thoughts…

“Now, now, you can trust me; I’m a Jedi…” Master Pyl’s gentle voice soothed while his breath quickened, touching her in places that made her feel uncomfortable.  “You want to be a good girl, don’t you…are you a good girl?” He’d said, his tone lethargic and satisfied.  “What do good girls do?  They stay quiet.”  He’d cupped her chin, his tender touch revolting.  “This shall remain our secret.”

NO!!!” It was as if all of the fury had returned, Sofa’s raging scream preternaturally loud as she released all of her pent-up anger, loathing, and shame in a shout like a thunderclap.  Mirroring this, her emotions powering the Aether, a violent wave of destruction erupted forth.  Had Valens not been ready, mitigating the worst of the devastating telekinetic pulse, the entire building of Willow Château would have been pulverized.  As it was, all of the furniture in a five-meter radius was completely destroyed.

As quickly as it had appeared, the Aetheric surge dissipated.  And with it, Sofa’s anger…leaving only pain and shame.  Deep, racking sobs shook her as she collapsed to the floor, surrounded by the detritus of broken furniture and shredded silk linens.  Hugging herself tightly, she began to rock back and forth as tears poured from her eyes.

Powerful yet tender hands gently touched her shoulders, arms like ferrocrete encircled her, comforting Sofa.  Leaning back against Valens’ chest, Sofa continued to quietly cry.  “I…I will not be a victim!  I will not let them hurt me!  Not again, never again!”  Every time she punctuated each exclamation by pounding on her shoulders while repeating what she’d said as if whispering a litany.

After some time, her sobs quieted although tears continued to roll down her face.  As each memory invariably led to another, reopening old wounds, Sofa would repeat her mantra, every single incident burned into her mind.  “I…I will not be a victim!  I will not let them hurt me!  Not again, never again!” 

She finally quieted, emotionally exhausted.  And all the while Valens had remained silent, instead offering support with his comforting embrace, his powerful body all at once soothing and reassuring.  Tears drying on her face, Sofa looked over her shoulder to stare at her husband.  There she saw within his eyes a look she’d never seen before: pain, pain from the knowledge that there was nothing more than he’d already given and offered to give her comfort.  At least, that’s what he thought.

But what Sofa knew—what she felt—was that everything and all that she needed was precisely what he DID give her.  Before she could speak and as if reading her mind, Valens stated quietly, firmly,  “Sofa Neirai, I love you.  I was lost, fighting in a world that was not mine, against enemies that affronted me on all sides, all the while searching for my lost People.  For every member I found there were too many years between the discoveries, too much conflict separating times of peace, too many lost against what was found.”  His fingers gently stroked her cheek, brushing back the strands of black hair that had fallen across her face.  “But I had you.  There I was, a stranger in a strange land, without family, confidence, or friends…and then, there you were.  Regardless…no, because of your past, know that I love you, unconditionally, for now until we are united with the Goddesses.”  His eyes gazed lovingly into hers.  “And you are no victim; you never were.  You are my wife, my goddess.”

Amazed, Sofa stared into Valens eyes.  And for the very first time she could see—really see—that he’d laid himself bare, entirely naked before her.  Valens was many things: warrior and protector, soldier and killer…but right here, right now he was none of those.

He was her husband…for good and ill, forever.  “I love you, Valens Lyssiason…and I always will.” She said before grabbing his head, kissing him fiercely, passionately.  The shame that she had felt was a small thing now, a trace of the specter that haunted her while her rage had completely evaporated, her sobbing both cathartic and calming.  It was a strange feeling for Sofa, one that was completely new and foreign to her: she no longer need worry about the expectations of others, the hypocritical dogma of those that would marginalize her while paying lip-service to some esoteric and vague self-serving ideology.

No, now she felt empowered.  Not just emotionally, she realized that there were few in the galaxy that she need fear anymore.  She would no longer be terrorized by those in power, threatened by those stronger, frightened by those who would do her harm.  Now it was she that was a force to be reckoned with, both as an individual and as a member of a…no, HER family.  Case in point: the man before her.  She would never have to wonder about his fidelity, or ability to provide…anything concerning his character.

Valens would be the constant in her life that she’d always wanted…just as she would be his.  Saying as much, they both luxuriated in one another’s company as they realized that they would never, ever be truly alone ever again.

And by the three Goddesses, with her husband as her witness, Sofa vowed to never, ever again feel any shame for the hollow morality that others would attempt to shackle upon her.  Even as she gave into her passion, flaming her husband’s desire as a result, Sofa made herself a promise, one that she knew that she would and could uphold: it was like Valens said, she was no victim…

She was a goddess.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 17, 2020, 01:08:08 AM
My thanks to Dutch for this incredible chapter, bringing new perspectives to my characters integrating their existing backstories so perfectly and an entertaining exceptionally detailed little episode in itself. This is what collaboration and quality look like. To the Chapter itself the contrast between elation and despair, and how quickly that can be triggered, how shallow some wounds are beneath the skin so easily reopened is very well done but that is not the real focus as well written as it is - the key is how within their relationship they have the balm for just such situations, Sofa for Valens and Valens for Sofa, there for each other in good times and in bad is perfectly captured here. I think Dutch has the edge on all of us writing such intimate scenes between couples (Zearic/D'Allyana, Kazic/Saani having numerous examples) - and wanting the best possible honeymoon sequence for my characters there was no question he had to write it, my thanks again!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 18, 2020, 10:46:52 PM
Remnant Part 2 — Elimination
Decay and degradation were common place for Sith worlds…

But its cause was no lethargy and indolence, rather more immediate concerns of imminent threat. 

System lords would devote their resources to building tanks, capital ships, weapons allowing civilian infrastructure to decay with the overcrowding of slave workers. 

They had been dilapidated yes, but not dormant.

The blue green crescent of Byss radiated the hopeless miasma of tarnished former glories as they approached.

None of them had been here…or at least not before their Reactivation, a few might have been as part of Marauder squads sent by the Technocracy to sabotage and steal from the Sith system lords as part of their long successful strategy of keeping them fighting each other and never noticing the Aethans…

The last message they had recovered from the facility replayed in Sixths head, Aethas Under Siege, All Units return Aethans Dominabutir Astris.

If the system had been under siege it could only have been the Sith, the demagogues and Jedi Lords further out cared nothing for the petty still born states of the deep core.

<I sense nothing substantive…in orbit or on the surface> Fourth advised her thoughts now slightly wavering with hunger.

None had eaten in the twelve standard days since they awoke. 

The ‘food’ at Mamzer station was deemed too contaminated, and there were no provisions at their facility left…they had been in the hangar that had caved in centuries ago. 

They were designed to operate at optimal levels without rest or victuals for up to a month…they were not designed to awaken after 700 or more years of cryogenic stasis to such hunger.

Already waste products were accumulating in their bloodstream and cell vacuoles at an advanced pace, rest cycling was keeping the worst symptoms at bay for now.

Mimir This is Byss control please state your intentions” the rattling voice out of an old rusted speaker surprised them all with its crass inelegance.

<No Sith would ask this…> Seventh noted kneeling where the pilots chair had been, they were simply too large to use standard humanoid furniture.

At 3 metres tall and 600 kilos each they were keenly aware of their ‘enhanced’ status more so than any other of the Technocracies Gene Generations had been. 

<This planet is no longer ruled by the Sith…> Fourth surmised unnecessarily.

Of the six of them there were four males, Sixth, Fifth, Seventh and Third, and two females, Fourth and Ninth who was designated Primus in pursuit of Purgatio Astra

First, Second and Eighth’s cryo tubes had, at some point over the intervening centuries become damaged or lost power…three sisters passing silently in artificial sleep, bodies mummified in the thin stagnant air of the facility as it seeped through micro cracks in the broken tubes. .

Vincit Omnia Aethani

Sixth wished it had been him and knew the other men did as well.

<We will soon learn who rules> Ninth’s authority was evident in her every action, calming and steadying against the disorienting situation.

That entire conversation had lasted little more than a split second, indeed Sevenths response startled the Byss traffic controller for being so fast for the few seconds he retained any sense of individuality.

<You will contact your most superior officer> Seventh bludgeoned into the petty single consciousness mind tracing the aether through the beings voice

“I will contact my most superior officer…” the words were vacant of life

Moments passed as the planet grew in their view port, the path here had been long and irritating, the navigational abilities of the creatures that inhabited Mamzer station were rudimentary at best, none of them were in the mood to delay more than needed.

“This is Captain Ool’Nbd Servant of His Eminence Baron Tl’Obo’lil XVII of the Emirate of…”

<You will provide us with docking clearance to the place nearest your seat of government…you will arrange for purified demineralised water in as large a volume as you can supply to be present along with iron rich foods stuffs conforming to the following specifications….>

Sixth broke his attention as Seventh detailed explicitly what was required to the no doubt dribbling ‘Captain’ - imagining this Ool’Nbd’s drooping head and rolling eyes humoured him.

He glanced past the edge of Byss to the bright mists of nebulae that pervaded the system lit by the blinding stars of the deep core behind as curved, blobby and pointed ships went to and fro, over engineered in design they were clearly not built for battle but luxury…

The consensus was soon reached between them – Byss was now a backwater where lesser beings exploited the hard work of generations past to live in indolence and leave decayed infrastructure and debt to future generations.

<Two hours> Seventh confirmed.

 
<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/fNWsZHF/Byss.jpg) (https://ibb.co/fNWsZHF)

Everything about this place disgusted her sensibilities.

Bulbous buildings that curved into sharp points, vertical and horizontal, were hued in purple mists beneath the lurid blue and green sky as they wandered the promenades paved with rounded tiles that when not completely missing were cracked and grotty.

They were stared at by the natives, humanoids with pointed mixed racial features jutting from half hooded robes of dozens of layers crowed with curved and pointed silver head pieces. They were followed or carried on palanquins by one eyed Abyssin slaves, gangly two fingered creatures whose extermination would be joyous. 

Fourth could sense an innate tendency to violence in these creatures that was slowly being eroded by selective breeding imposed by their new masters. Regression not progress.

The city was built in layers, like some sedimentary process, the lower levels raised by ancient explorers and colonists, hardy and practical.  Atop that were the more refined but still clunky towers of the early Kings in the days of the Great Hyperspace war, then a period of curious blobby structures followed by the heavy handed slap dash militarized architecture of the Sith warlords. 

The levels that she now walked through were the most recent, but even these were soiled with age and neglect.

Her assessment was after the Sith were overthrown there had been some period of indigenous renewal and reconstruction lead by generations enthused with a spirit of freedom and purpose…a spirit that had been diluted into apathy by following generations content to merely enjoy the splendour their ancestors built rather than improve upon it.

Ahead was the tallest of the structures, the Citadel of the Barons – according to the now brain dead Ool’Nbd it was the seat of government, where the petty nobility that ruled this planet plotted against each other and were profligate with the earnings from their distant estates and inherited inefficient industrial monopolies.

As more and more eyes gazed at them it was a trial to not implode their heads or crush their organs internally. 

After finally getting some sustenance at the landing port she felt a renewed vitality in stark contrast to the listless overly preened beings that clustered about the once grand walkways.

In the back of her mind were half remembered images of Aethas, the gentle feminine domes and columns of white marble, the clean cut stone arch ways and rotunda’s between libraries and laboratories, statues of their civic mascots, the three so called ‘goddesses’ that represented what they never ceased in striving to attain.

It was a doubly distant memory now…it had been another life when she – or rather the person she was before Reactivation – had lived on Aethas, and now it was a further 700 or more years away…had it too fallen into such pathetic self-indulgent decay?

They reached the vast doors at the end of the promenade, flanked by what would normally be towering Sentinels with red eyed helmets glaring down from voluminous robes hiding armour as pitted and worn as her own – though Fourth doubted they had the excuse of it being 700 years old.

In her Aegis Armour she overshadowed by a head these Sentinels, if they felt worry it did not show, whatever queer code they followed they remained mute simply crossing their vibro-axes to block their path. 

She felt out the mute creatures in the aether.   There was the taint of Sith Alchemy there...but bastardised, imperfect…

<I sense it too…> Ninth noted beside her
(https://i.ibb.co/GdKHxQv/Byssguard.jpg) (https://ibb.co/GdKHxQv)
<Mutants Sentinels originally designed by the Sith that this wretched generation cannot properly emulate>

<They reek of stimulants and artificial growth hormones> Seventh noted

<And lack any sense of self identity> Sixth detailed

The ornate doors of aqua and blue they were guarding ground open with clattering screeched as the crowd of curious on lookers behind them grew.

Flanked by four more Sentinels was a thin male humanoid in tightly layered robes, sharp beak like nose and squawking voice to match.

“What is the meaning of this who….”

His sentence would not be finished.

<<<<>>>>

The Council of the Baron’s was, as usual a sweltering pit of whispers, back stabbing and influence trading, as in the centre of the oval shaped room domed by a pale blue marble above lurid jade steps and seats, the Master of the House warbled procedural details from the Speaker’s podium out of a drooping mouth above three chins that were as layered as his robes in the current fashion which dictated more layers of expensive fabric showed more wealth and status.

While no one listened to him anyway, they all paid attention when the Chamber door exploded inwards and the Bearer of the Axe – a symbolic position for the assembly in charge of security – flew head first into the Master of the House over the heads of the assembled Barons and courtiers.

The Sentinels at the door immediately reacted sweeping to block the path…

Only to be lifted off the ground then slammed by invisible fists once…twice…three times into each other until they were a mess of vat grown meat and rusted metal slopped on the floor, blood running down each jade step to the central podium so recently vacated.

In their place stepped six warriors taller than the Sentinels and bedecked in light sucking armour of a material only scene occasionally in jewellery on Byss.

Ninth strode forward confidently to the centre of the room, her boots cracking the jade floor with each step, the others circled the outer edge of the room taking up positions at the five cardinal points behind the gaping Barons of Byss.

The Sentinels had proved little challenge – there was potential there for a threat, but they were a lazy imitation of what the Sith Lords who had first designed them must’ve intended and easily dispatched, sending the crowd that had been peering at them running screaming.

Reaching the podium she grasped the rim – and pulled it from the floor cracking the jade further then tossed it indifferently aside.

“Where is your Lord?” she asked
“Where are the Sith?”

The assembled throng of nobles were dumbstruck, for all they heard was a twisted archaic dialect spoken too rapidly to comprehend

Whaea-be-thy-Lo’rd-Whaea-be-thou-Sithai

“Very well, one of you dies every minute until I get an answer,”

<Begin>

Without warning Sixth reached over the rail to the upper seats and plucked a noble at random, he squealed and struggled and for a moment it seemed Sixth might drop him simply because his various layers of clothing were drooping, but Sixth caught the neck and then slammed the head against the wall once to splatter the skulls contents.

“The Sith are gone!” one elderly looking baron with a wispy floor length beard called out finally making senses of her words.

“Driven out centuries ago, we are a free people, we will not be intimid….”

His words stopped as she grasped his throat and raised him up with the aether, making no gesture as she did so.

She pulled him straight toward her, quickly replacing her telekinetic grip with a physical one as her hand clasped his throat just gently enough to let him still speak.

“When were they driven out?”

“I…don’t know exactly, four, five hundred years…they killed each other or the Jedi Lords drove them out then left in turn…”

“And who replaced them?”

“No…no one, the Jedi gave up their demesnes and titles, the New Republic didn’t care about the Core, we forged our own…”

“Your ancestors forged, you sleep walk into decay,”

She consulted the others, all were in agreement at their next step.

<These creatures are of no value to us even as servants — Purgatio Astra>

With speed and precision the massacre began. 

In screams and trampling rushes of fists banging loudly against telekinetically sealed doors it continued.

With blood and silence it ended.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on June 19, 2020, 06:06:33 PM
Oh my...weapons and tactics from another era, for a war that was fought long ago...and lost.  But does that make the Re-actives obsolete or something that our "modern" Aethans would treat with inclusiveness...or destroyed outright given their antiquated orders?  Perhaps neither, especially given their maxim "Vincit Omnia Aethani"...

...or Aethans conquer all  ;)  I know for SOME of the Aethans, this mandate will dovetail perfectly with their own xenophobic doctrines.  Which is one plot point that I have to hand it to LSG: are the Aethans more than just their genetic imperative?  Can they expand beyond what the Technocracy intended, become more than just what is programed into their gene generation?  And what about Nineth's place as the Re-actives "warchief?"  I'm sure that this is going to come to a head when she encounters Valens, who, unless I miss my guess, is a higher gene generation than they are...but they seemed to be implicitly designed for war against the Sith...so there's that.

Either way: I canNOT wait to find out!

My thanks to Dutch for this incredible chapter, bringing new perspectives to my characters integrating their existing backstories so perfectly and an entertaining exceptionally detailed little episode in itself. This is what collaboration and quality look like. To the Chapter itself the contrast between elation and despair, and how quickly that can be triggered, how shallow some wounds are beneath the skin so easily reopened is very well done but that is not the real focus as well written as it is - the key is how within their relationship they have the balm for just such situations, Sofa for Valens and Valens for Sofa, there for each other in good times and in bad is perfectly captured here. I think Dutch has the edge on all of us writing such intimate scenes between couples (Zearic/D'Allyana, Kazic/Saani having numerous examples) - and wanting the best possible honeymoon sequence for my characters there was no question he had to write it, my thanks again!
First: I am both honored and humbled by LSG's praise; this chapter was definitely a favorite of mine to write  :)  And in all honesty, IF I am able to produce the character relationships that LSG has so generously bestowed, it is because of 1) the incredible feedback that I have received (special thanks to LSG, Karm, and Teagin Roan  :)) and 2) the absolutely awesome wealth of nuance and development as a result of our shared Forumverse!

Collaborations rock and so do my fellow authors (and artists--looking at you, For Tyeth & PsychoSith  :))

My thanks to everyone!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 22, 2020, 01:00:08 AM
Chapter 8 — The Black Obelisk — Part 2
The Obelisk Array

At last it was ready.

Nearly 750 years ago the Technocracy had developed the original design and built the basic infrastructure …but their work was stopped by the Collapse, the desolation of their world by hordes of Sith from the demesnes, marches and mini kingdoms in deep Core during the Early Draggulch period of the New Sith wars.

Their descendants, the People, however distant in culture had picked up where they left off.

The basic premise was the same, but they had to grapple with challenges the Technocracy designers hadn’t progressed far enough to encounter.

The screening out the back ground emanations, removing distorting effects of local aetheric turbulence required creating an ‘Aether Sink’ that siphoned off nearby back ground energies into an ‘aetheric capacitor’ – the energy recycled, purified and used to charge the Obelisks

Then there were issues of potentially damaging emanations, extremes of rage and spikes of violence or lust that could disrupt the operation of the Observatory they had to design Greysleet dampeners to screen out intentional assaults as best they could.

It had taken just over a Republic Standard year - 220 Aethan days of 43 hours - from mid-Winter when they returned from the Academy to the late spring, a whole year on Aethas lasting 540 days.

A year of healing for Kassyndra and Lydan, and everyone around them, most of all Selaena reuniting with her son, and Milaea with her grandmother.

A year learning from the Extolled, and the Technocracy as more data archives were found under Mount Alixaea.

A year of personal struggle and growth as everyone completed the Guardian training, their abilities enhanced but limitations also exposed.

A year in which they finalised of their Four Aertemsiaea Class Destroyers, the Persephaea and Aephrodaea joining the sister ships the Aertemisaea and Aethenaea.

Then there were the marriages, honeymoons, the planting of new orchards and crops with the help of the Extolled, the growth of the gormin herds and the gopin flocks, even the wild predators, goyruts, gosalam, vosis, vorynx and volurks were returning to a more settled pattern.

Houses had been repaired or built a new, home crafts restored, new tapestries, leathers and wooden utensils as they recovered long resting arts of handicraft, abilities too, Milaea exploring the writings of the Volva’s, Melron compiling new tales of their history.

It was the most peaceful, productive and healing time the People had experienced in the twenty two years since the Devastation.

The activation of the First Obelisk to help find other survivors was a fitting way to end this period and begin the next.

A year ago the control room had been a mess of ancient wires and cords, now it was clean and crisp as any Chiss communications centre, in addition to nanite circuitry were bloodstone veins to carry not electrical but aetheric signals to the Observatory after being passed through the Obelisk and into the nine filter orbs on the pedestal before it. 

Its capacity was barely 5 per cent of what all nine obelisks could achieve once completed, but 5 percent was still more aetheric detection power than they possessed a year go by a hundred fold.

Milaea stood with Adaea and Valens in the control room, the others dotted around the facility to ensure all support systems and backups were functional, Lydan on a rare trip off-world waited on the Aethenaea at a float with the other four destroyers above Aeda.

There was no use having the Obelisks to detect signals if they could not mount a rescue, with four Destroyer class capital ships they could deal with anything short of a whole planetary defence fleet, and with a hundred Extolled warriors and their Sons of Kessel allies they could make up for their low numbers with Elite soldiers where needed.
 
They did not know what or who – if anyone – they would find – but based on experience it was unlikely any survivors they did find would be in good condition – Jarys had been thrown to the fighting puts, Maeson and Kassyndra to dust choked mines, Selaena abused, Lydan mutilated….even Kiraea, Lyaea and Adaea who had gotten off ‘lightly’ barely escaped sex slavery.

Even as Milaea began the process of activating the systems - removing the ‘BlackOut’ Shielding systems and sending aetheric currents into the storage Orbs to ensure they were ready to collect and archive signals for analysis and the creation of a long term mapping of the aetheric landscape of the galaxy as a whole - she was keenly aware that doing this would lead to more violence.

Even a brief glance using her growing seiðr arts showed struggle on the horizon, but under her Grandmothers guidance she avoided gazing too deeply or taking it too much as fact. 

Blood would flow, she was resigned to this fact, but the need to remain hidden from the Jedi would at least keep the Peoples rage focused and precise – whoever they found they would rescue with speed and stealth - where possible. 

Thin lines of blue energy flicked from the chamber walls onto the Obelisk itself, it sank deep into the monolith of Blackstone then filtered out into the filtering Orbs that would refine the signals into a more useable pattern.

The flickers grew stronger, more consistent…then without fanfare without climax…

…it stabilised into silence and calm, passively detecting the currents of the Aether from across the galaxy.

“All systems nominal…” Milaea said checking the read out with her eyes and the aether, Valens and Adaea doing likewise at their stations.

“Time to see the results”

<<<<>>>>

Observatory
(https://i.ibb.co/72fG0Wx/Observators.jpg) (https://ibb.co/72fG0Wx)
It was a map of the galaxy.  And yet no one would recognise it as such.
 
It was a sprawling mess of undulating layers like crumpled bedsheets with occasional spikes sticking through it, arranged in a rough sphere within which were more spiked points or deep wells.

Projected out of nine aetherically charged orbs it integrated all the data the telescope like Obelisk could gather and converted it into an aetheric map of the galaxy.

She waved her hand through the diaphanous projection feeling the tingle of aetheric energies – much like lightning but limited to a feel of static electricity. 

The blue-white mass before her was the result, a near perfect representation of aetheric flows in the galaxy.  The next task though was harder…

She gazed carefully at the output, trying to work out amidst the peaks and troughs in the four dozen or more layers of flowing waves – for they never remained a fixed number second to second – which were different systems – once they could map thirty or so Aetheric vergence points on this map to a normal galactic map they could generate algorithms and predictive models to pinpoint the others…then gradually refine by checking each location by sending scouts with ‘ping’ devices to the different worlds to confirm…it was a large and logistically and conceptually challenging task even for beings with six levels of conscious thought.

Thirty might not be enough…they may have to survey up to a hundred locations to develop a working model and even then it would likely only have 63-67 per cent accuracy...further refinement would take even longer given the constant distortions…

Aethani Dominabutir Astris “ Valens mused behind her, unusually cheerful since returning from the Honeymoon, followed in by Sofa and Kiraea.

“Aethans Domino what now?” Sofa asked.

Aethani Dominabutir Astris,” Milaea replied absently her eyes fixed on the rough centre of the map where there was a strange donut shaped depression where numerous sheets of energy vanished at the border and then peaked in the centre.

“It’s an old Technocracy Motto, ‘Aethans shall dominate the Stars’” her reply was off handed in distraction though Valens and Kiraea shared a wickedly ambitious glance.

 “This must be home…” Milaea the sphere of suppression hiding peaks of activity in her hand, “…the depression caused by the Aetheric Barriers the Technocracy built…they must still be functional.”

“It would certainly be unusual for anywhere else to look like that…” Kiraea added wandering to a further edge were the waves washed into a basin like depression of dark blue

“This would be the Maw…” her finger touched the centre then followed along past a few minor peaks to a strange reddened swirl

“And here would be the Old Sith Empire…Korriban, Ziost…,”

Sofa having noted Valens and Kiraea’s conspiratorial glance stepped between them wandering to the far side of the room where there were vast empty stretches punctuated by sharp peaks and troughs.

“Then this would be the unknown regions…what are these places…”

Valens eyes narrowed
“Places that are almost mythical…Ahch-to and the like perhaps...” genehanced cognition and vision calculated the distance between them as 532 centimetres…extrapolating the distance between what looked like the Maw and what looked like home…and applying that to the peak over his wife’s head he could estimate roughly the time it would take to travel there.

“Hmmm…it won’t be hard to pinpoint signals once the software is developed…overlay it against radiation and gravity maps of the galaxy…”

“I don’t think it will be as easy as that…” Milaea replied heading back to where Kiraea had pointed out the Old Sith Empire worlds

 “…here see this – these tides of aetheric winds are drifting the emanations of the planets there…they’re still clustered but not necessarily in an easily derivable scale to each other and the rest of the galaxy…and further turbulence in the aether could shift it back and forth at any moment”

Kiraea nodded beside her

“Yes…and anyway the precision is low, at best we could pick out the Sector a signal comes from, not the system…”

That would be a problem when most Sectors contained thousands if not millions of systems.

“…it’s not impossible…” Milaea went on “…but for precision calculations it’s going to be more difficult…until we have all the Obelisks online that is”

This was the question they had to grapple with – they had limited resources and two equally important tasks to choose from – complete the array to increase precision then search for survivors – or begin their search with the Obelisk they had – it had already been 22 years and only now did they have the resources to help survivors…if any remained…they could delay no longer.

“Do you think anyone else has an Observatory like this?” Sofa broke in as they put that decision into their sixth level of consciousness for the moment, computing probabilities of success with just one Obelisk against the instinctual need to find their People.

“Probably…The original Rakata Star Maps weren’t dissimilar in their original intent…there have been so many advanced civilizations, the Gree, the Kwa, Celestials - I’m sure others have….” Milaea replied

“All seeing is the first step to all knowing…who else but a Goddess could achieve such a thing,” Kiraea teased behind her.

“Indeed….” Milaea’s eyes narrowed considering for a moment the very serious imports of Kiraea’s jest about who or what else might have a similar device. For now she put it to the side.

“We need to start looking now…we can’t wait any longer, we can work on the second and third obelisks simultaneously, have the Extolled and their Dovin basals help to mine the Blackstone for the rest.”

Valens nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, there is no time to waste…every hour that passes another survivor could be dying…” his head dropped causing Sofa to place a comforting hand on his shoulders

“After so long though…I wonder if any do still survive…”

“Only one way to find out,” his wife comforted.

Kiraea unexpectedly grabbed Milaea’s butt,

“Well that’s settled then, and I have the perfect way to get the message to any survivors that we are looking for them!”

<<<<>>>>

Sex Sells
(https://i.ibb.co/0DjYv7q/Kiraea-R-6.jpg) (https://ibb.co/0DjYv7q)
If there was one universal rule of business in the galaxy it was that sex sells. 

And if there was one universal rule of advertising, it was that the more sexually explicit the ad, the further it would travel – either by voyeurism or even better outrage.

“Do I really have to….” Sofa queried positioned in front of the camera, a store room in the Mount Aelia fortress turned into a makeshift studio with a 3D scanner to accurately model the poses and help produce the statues Kiraea had commissioned

“It’s Rite number 32…you can’t do it without your finger!”

“Stars this is embarrassing…”

Kiraea shrugged indifferent to her discomfort “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before…”

“You have…Milaea has…the girls have…but the GALAXY hasn’t.” she positioned her fingers anyway allowing Kiraea to hit the scan button.  The thin circular lenses on stands around the brightly lit ‘stage’ activated and began sweeping blue lights all across Sofa.

“You should smile more, you’re meant to be…

“I thought you said you’d change the faces!”

“Fine I’ll paste a mash up of you and Lyaea…”

Every one of the women was contributing, except of course for Selaena who considering how she had been abused by Outsiders Kiraea had known not to ask - but she did give approval for Lyaea to be involved.

“Alright one more, number 33…” she said to Sofa who shifted up to brush her hair for the next shot.  There were to be 120 sculptures depicting Some of the Arts of Aephrodaea in action, those Kiraea determined were okay to be seen by outsiders considering the need to find more People.

“Why am I doing so many of these anyway?” Sofa complained

“Because you have the largest breasts…and that sells more in humanoid male demographic age 18 to 28 who are more likely to share the images with other males on social media spreading it even further…”

“And you can’t just photo edit your own?”

Kiraea hurled a cushion at her with the aether

“Stop complaining, I’m in charge we do it my way!”

“Fine but if I see these picts on your datapad…”

“Why are you looking at my datapad hmmmm….” The reply cut Sofa short

Once they had the scans they would produce 120 double life size statues all true to life skin colour from marble mined on Mimban, with Ruby and Amethyst based paints, shimmering with a liquid sheen that would add to the sensual lustre of the figures and the activities they were engaged in. 

These would be taken to every Art and Anthropology Exhibition they could buy their way into along with a massive advertising campaign to promote the ‘Arts of Aephrodaea’ exhibit.

The highly erotic nature of the statues and the billions of flyers and ads would spread a message from People for People as far and wide as possible, telling them it was safe to try and reach out, that there was someone looking for them, trying to find them…

A tear budded at Kiraea’s eyes…after so long they would know they had not been forgotten or abandoned by their Goddesses.

Even now they were testing the Obelisk to ensure they could filter out the signals, and Jarys working with Milaea had devised a way to transmit a small burst message back along the aetheric wavelength they got any signals from so they could reply simply….We are coming.

But she was getting a head of herself…the scanner shuttered off and Sofa hopped back up quickly tying her hair back, she had allowed it grow unusually long since her wedding making Kiraea wonder if the rich black hair wasn’t a fetish of Valens…

Sofa quickly glared at her as if picking up on the thought…So prudish! She should be happy to have a husband who worships every part of her like that and share tips with the other women!.

“Alright…you’re done…Mili you can be Aephrodaea, Lya you’re Aertemisaea so put on the quiver and hold that arrow…”

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/JmyXQk8/Val-investig.jpg) (https://ibb.co/JmyXQk8)

“Oh….” Lyr’s eyes watered as he glanced through the ‘pictures’ Kiraea had sent

His hand clapped over his mouth…if his wife Nxi saw him looking at this she would slap him.

“OH…”

Lyr was no stranger to such things, he had worked as a Hutt’s major domo after all and some of the sights entertaining guests and his master would stay with him forever….but they had never been intended for public consumption on this scale.

“A problem,” Valens asked staring out of the office window over the seas of Fresia below.

The building was on one of many small islands on the core world known for advanced manufacturing companies notably Incom. 

It was here Lyr and Colm Maynard had set up for their ‘masters’ a ‘legitimate’ enterprise Aertemis Industries – funded by vast amounts of stolen credits and intellectual property, and the occasional Cargo hauler load of utlradense minerals for sale on the open market.

They had bought a half occupied island outright, evicted the prior tenants and were ‘rebuilding’ a new compound to suit their ‘needs’ currently Lyrs office was in the only old tower not yet demolished – slightly eerie in that it had 112 stories and five occupants - himself, Nxi and Churi, Maynard and Xandra.

“No problem…just we might have issues with classification boards permitting this on some worlds and getting traction…the main adult industries sell things far more explicit than this, it’s unlikely to sell in those markets….”

“We focus on trying to pass it off as mainstream Art and Museum pieces…it should get more attention that way…”

“A cunning plan…those larger than life statues though…to get them into travelling exhibits may be more expensive that I first thought given their…nature…”

“I thought the opposite would be the case….”

“One would think…but many systems are not so…liberal culturally….it may provoke…”

Lyr stopped himself realising the plan more fully, outright explicit vid’s and pict’s were a dime a trillion on the holonet, but if they were placed in galleries…

“Outrage…you want the outrage to get more people talking about it, all press is good press,”

Now Valens smiled…that scared Lyr – when Valens smiled outsiders died

“Outrage it is then….” he swallowed

“I’ll find whatever freedom of speech and libertarian groups I can and give them donations…to do the arguing for us…and make those that might oppose it very aware of it...”

Lyr tapped away at his accounting spread sheet.

“Of course the galaxy is vast, even using multiple advertising agencies our reach will be limited...to get even 0.5 per cent market awareness will cost…around…8 billion credits….”

He left the price hanging, even with all the banks he and Valens had taken ownership of through….persuasion so many years ago….their cash reserves still only amounted to 10 billion on top of net assets in stocks, cargo vessels and automated transit hubs, and the very island they sat upon of 200 billion.

“No price is too high…” Valens whispered “We can acquire more credits as needed with our…Persuasiveness…I want this message spread, from Coruscant to Jakku….”

So Valens spoke so Lyr’Ca’Njo obeyed as he had for the last twenty–two years.

The search for the Remnants had begun.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 22, 2020, 01:06:32 AM
(https://i.ibb.co/dbhVVXG/ROTA-Teaser-2.png) (https://ibb.co/pWmMMNJ)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on June 22, 2020, 05:36:51 PM
Excellent time jump here; works perfectly within the narrative, especially considering the burgeoning Aethan military/industrial complex.  But the real jewel here is the communications obelisk: not only because of the uncertainty concerning the logistics but also functionality.  And after everything that the People have been through during the interim from the Devastation, you can feel the eagerness to find and save any and all survivors.  Speaking of...

Brilliant strategy to throw a proverbial light into the darkness with the "Arts of Aephrodaea."  On a meta-level, this was one of LSG's (awesome!) contributions to ***shameless plug*** "Schisms" that now becomes such a big pay-off as we see just HOW the Aethans can find their People despite being scattered throughout the galaxy.  Unsurprisingly, this continues yet more of a favored storyline that I am really enjoying  :)

And I love the pic of the Observatory!

(https://i.ibb.co/dbhVVXG/ROTA-Teaser-2.png) (https://ibb.co/pWmMMNJ)
YES!!!  ;D

Once again a BRILLIANT collaboration between LSG and our resident visual master, FT!!!  These banners are FANTASTIC!!!

...I've GOT to steal borrow this!!!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: For Tyeth on June 23, 2020, 02:31:56 PM
YES!!!  ;D

Once again a BRILLIANT collaboration between LSG and our resident visual master, FT!!!  These banners are FANTASTIC!!!

...I've GOT to steal borrow this!!!

Hi Dutch, I can't take much credit here, LSG told me what he was looking for visually and I just did a basic "cut and paste" and page layout for the poster (I learnt Desktop Publishing at college  :) )The earlier poster I designed with characters lining each side of the poster was much more complex.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on June 24, 2020, 12:50:44 PM
Hi Dutch, I can't take much credit here, LSG told me what he was looking for visually and I just did a basic "cut and paste" and page layout for the poster (I learnt Desktop Publishing at college  :) )The earlier poster I designed with characters lining each side of the poster was much more complex.
Props to both of you!

Every time I see these it inspires me to write  ;D

Seriously, wonderful work between the two of you!!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 28, 2020, 10:36:13 PM
Chapter 9 — Chains Within — Part 1
Jenaea
(https://i.ibb.co/JrmybjH/Jen-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/JrmybjH)
FWWAP!

“Hehhh….” The filthy alien leered behind her as her butt felt the tingle of the slap.

She didn’t even bother taking note anymore…just kept scrubbing away at the floor, cleaning up the vomit from last night’s guest’s party.

Waiting for the inevitable she was pleasantly surprised when it just wandered off, another forgettable slap…better than a groping…but she didn’t even record those anymore either.

The scent of the vomit mingled with the cleaning chemicals in her nose…she could tell everything this creature had eaten before spewing it across the wall…it had been the soup she’d made to order...even that lack of appreciation she didn’t record.

For the longest time she had remembered everyone of the filthy outsiders that offended her, her list grew so long though…eventually she started forgetting at over 3000…now it was a simple list with one entry that encapsulated all those who she would take her vengeance upon.

‘Outsiders’ was the only title there…

The chaffing of the shock collar reminded how unlikely it was.  The cutting of the overly tight ankle bracelets reminded her of her last attempt to enact her plans…scars on her back even more so.

The only thing she was thankful for was the unhealed cut on her face that made the jeering drunk throngs of customers less likely to try and rape her when they saw her damaged features…

But it encouraged the bad ones.

She had wanted to kill herself so many times…so many…but convinced herself life was…Something better than nothing

Though the somethings too often hurt her and she wanted the nothing…but the ‘Master’…

Pttt! She spat every time she thought of him

…would never allow it…the collar didn’t just electrocute her when she was disobedient it tracked her vitals and shocked her if they dropped too low….she had tried to overload it to be fatal…but in a sick irony her body was too strong to be killed so easily, the poor food yet left her too weak to fight her way out.

“Huzzy UP!” the master yelled behind her

“Clean room 602 before next hour or shock you!”

602…it has a great view of the space port…

“Yes Master…”

<<<<>>>>

She hauled up the dripping mattress – it was mainly faeces this time…usually it was urine of some kind mingled with booze and drugs.

Outside the viewport she looked across the pirate and merc hulls coming and going – she’d been brought on one of those ships…taken to the Casino across the main boulevard of the rotating space station…lost in a game where best cheater wins.

But blasters trump all…and now stuck for who knew how long working at the winners hotel, before he too got shot and she was sold at the estate auction as a “Pretty worker with years of experience, chipper and playful with your valued guests…”  the filthy creature had pulled off her smock

“Breast a little small but supple…”

She squinted her eyes looking for anything out the ordinary.

Jenaea didn’t know what to expect really, what kind of ship would they come in on? Would they come at all?

She dropped the mattress and touched the brochure in her underwear. 

Ragged and covered in dried…fluids…it was half an advertisement for the ‘Arts of Aephrodaea’ Exhibit on Corellia a distant planet that built many of the ships she saw come and go…and produced some of the worst pirates who stayed at the hotel, they all thought themselves charming and smooth – in the end they restored to force of course…it was more galling to her that they even tried to ‘seduce’ her or the other workers…just get it over with….

The brochure was still there…sometimes she thought she imagined it…that she was hallucinating…would she know if she was? Probably not…

She’d found it in an upturned bin after ‘big Night’ – the night every twenty days when the local miners came in from the nearby moons and asteroids to blow all their wages on booze and bitches.

As a ‘cheap’ hotel she got some of the grottiest louts, most too drunk to do much damage to anything but the furniture.

The Master wouldn’t be happy having to replace another mattress…she would just put this one in the den to dry out by the generator…a soak in some used laundry soap it would be good as…

It could be for a decades soiled piece of filth like me…why would anyone come for me…

“HEY! What you looking at!” the Master yelled behind her.

As Jenaea tuned back to her work a black ship slipped into the system blotting out a single star on the horizon.
(https://i.ibb.co/rbNTFGT/Aert-Under.png) (https://ibb.co/6vLVrRV)
<<<<<>>>>

After she’d done the rooms and cooked the meals dumped into the buffet she had to wait the tables, trying to upsell more drinks.

This batch seemed standard, a few Gand, Rodian, couple of humans, a boisterous Gamorrean…

She weaved through them, getting pinches and slaps, grotty old credit chits slapped on her tray to pay as she poured out the ‘house’ brands that were little better than pure ethanol mixed with the grimy water of Hgla station –named for the owner of the whole shellty place Hgla the Hutt, from what Jenaea understood he was a two bit player content with moderate control over this intersection between a few unexceptional jump points to various mining and agricultural systems and Klatooine on one side Nar Shadda on the other giving it a reasonable level of traffic.

The station itself had seen better days in Exar Kuns time one of the guests noted beneath a heavy robe in the corner…a wretched hide of sum and villainy…a text book example of Hutt infrastructure…bolted on upgrades, fixed when its broke, catering to cheap and nasty crews who couldn’t afford the docking fees on Nar Shadda and enough booze to get soused so they came here instead…

A lower class of reprobate than Nar Shadda was a sight…and smell to behold she mused.

“What can I get you?”

His face dropped beneath the Ubese helmet as he saw her marred features and lifeless eyes.

“Nothing…” he said quietly – but the words boomed out through the Ubese helmets speaker as ‘Na-To!’

She wandered off indifferent to take a Rodians order, the filthy thing reached up and grabbed her between the legs as he ordered a ‘Slick Selonian Slurper’

He bit back his blinding rage…Soon…Soon….

As they laughed at her as she went to get the drink he stood and headed past the metal bar patterned with decades of spilled drinks into an almost pretty rainbow, dropped 50 credits into the tip jar and a gift along with it.

<<<<>>>>

The bar was quiet enough, and she was tired enough. 

As she opened the ‘safe’ drawer to tip out the takings and ‘tips’ for the master she noticed something black in the jar. 

Reaching in she pulled out a finely wrought…statuette…it was hard to make out what it was…she held it to the light but it just ate it up like a shadow…

“hmmm…” she stared intently and drew circumspectly on the aether to look at it…it was hard to use the aether here, and dangerous…she’d felt hideous creatures come and go from the hotel over the years- as vile as they were to look at their aetheric presence was worse, she was afraid what attention using it bring…

It had been a big risk to signal outward after she’d found the Arts of Aephordaea brochure…she’ held it for weeks trying to work out what to do…even now she worried it might’ve been the wrong choice…

Her senses clearer she saw the figure in full…a feminine form in loose fitting practical dress drawing an arrow…

Aertemisaea….

“Hey whazz DAT!” the Master grasped her wrist

“NO!” she couldn’t let him defile it…but the brutish Besalisk was too strong for her prying it from her fingers

“Eh you Steal diz! You Steal from Cuztomer…you get caught I cut your hand ov!”

He held the small statue in his hand looking it over

“Heavy…hmm…sell maybe…hmmm…”

Lips pursed angrily she swiped her hand out to grab it back off him

“NO! you can’t have it!”

Two of his arms grabbed her waist, another reached for his shock collar controller

She squeezed the heavy totem so hard it cut into her hand, blood flowing into the recesses of the statuette as if it were made to be so covered

“ehhh Guardian…” she struggled against the squeeze of brutish hands

“Kill them ALL Guardia…”TZZZZR

She flopped down under the twisted pulses of the shock collar.

“You not steal! Nothin’ yourz all Mine…you clean up…disobey again I shock you till you earz bleed!”

<<<<>>>>

She had barely gotten her breath back when the master called again

“You Clean diz!” he boomed pointing into the hall.

Struggling to walk for the burns from the ankle shocks she wandered into the hall.

The Rodian who had grabbed her was face down on the floor, blood trailing up the wall. 

That wasn’t unusual in itself, they got about one murder a week…what was was just how it had happened with no one seeing or screaming…and how they had used his blood to write a single word on the wall.

Tommorrow

<<<<>>>

Even as she cleaned up the beds she had a smile on her face all day…because she knew no one would be sleeping in them tonight.

The other slaves wondered what she had to smile about as the Master constantly threatened to cut her thief hands off, indeed her persistent smile annoyed him so much he decided to give her ten lashes.

But every one that struck was one she now knew would be repaid over and over again.

<<<<>>>

Moving in the shadows where nobody could see, half a dozen figures silently stalked through the passageways of Hgla Station toward a grimy hotel built into the decaying durasteel overlooking the main port.

Following in their wake a small band of hooded figures lead by a short stout Psadan whose name they could never pronounce right so they simply called him Mumbles.

In room 802 a marauder foolish enough to open the window to smoke his pipe offered the perfect entry to one of the shadows climbing like an arachnid up the sheer face of the hotel – by the time his ears widened in shock his head was already dropping past the window of 402.

The woman they were here to rescue had asked the Guardians to ‘kill them all’, and whether one of the party of six liked it or not she could not countermand the cultural imperative that placed on them. 

They could however define ‘who’ was included in the ‘All’ to exclude the other slaves

Jenaea didn’t know exactly what to expect as ‘night’ or the equivalent on a space station that never stopped, had fallen, at first nothing seemed to change…except there were no new guests…and even as she scrubbed along the floors no one left their rooms for an unusual amount of time…

It became terribly still and quiet, no hocking, vomiting or banging frelling sounds….

A shadow caught her eye at the edge of the stairs, growing unnaturally…an…obelisk of darkness filling the wall and curving around.

Jenaea leapt up knocking the bucket over as she backtracked trying to out run the tide of darkness.

Something clattered to the floor beside her – the cutting pain around her ankle was gone…then something else…

A weight lifted from her neck as the shock collar…vanished

Warmth filled the room…a sense of calm and safety she had not known since…

Out of the darkness there was a mechanical hiss and movement, out of the depths of black a feminine face appeared neck length red hair and familiar features it looked like the Guardian Karintha…but not quite…she had two nieces…Yorna and….

“It’s alright we’ve rounded them up…I’m Kiraea I’m here to take you home!”

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/KqN3zG7/Jen-Captive.jpg) (https://ibb.co/KqN3zG7)
The Master’s introduction had been more sudden and more shocking. 

Sitting at his desk counting the takings he had looked up to see a black wall in front of him.

He had then risen off his chair and his arms spread out under some hideous power that was not his own. 

He had tried to scream but his mouth was glued shut – till it was opened and an invisible pole was shoved down his throat to choke him as he was dumped on the grimy invariably broken tiles of the lobby beside other guests, in the bar across the entrance the slaves were huddled together being spoked to by a little Psadan in hushed tones before an Aqualish closed the door so they didn’t see what came next.

One of his workers, the naughty one came down the stairs followed by a walking shadow with a human woman’s face.

“Shall we kill them now or later?” Kiraea asked simply

Jenaea thought for a moment…as she felt the weight of the shock collar in her hand…she could have them tormented for days on end…

It was at this point the Master soiled himself.

“Years if you like” Kiraea noted ensuring the so called master heard the threat.

But Jenaea decided to be nicer to them than they had been to her

“Now…Kill them now…” she paused looking at her dishpan hands

“And make a mess.”

<<<<>>>>

Mmbri had known Maeson and Jarys long enough not to be surprised by any level of horror they could inflict…still this scene was in the top ten.

Limbs hung from the ceiling, heads had been inserted in…orifices….blood and haemolymph had been scrawled into a detailed warning on the walls that asked slavers and masters to….consider….the example given here.

He doubted it would make much of a difference…but it was a start.

“How many…” Maeson queried beside him

“Seventeen in all…”

“hmmm…” they both knew there were hundreds more across the station…but time and resources were against them both.

Maeson’s people were forces of nature, they could wipe out the life of every master and slaver on Hgla station in a matter of hours…but then what. 

The Sons didn’t have the resources to care for the freed brethren, even with the credits Maesons kind could offer the logistics were now beyond them, and a massacre of an entire Hutt station would bring attention neither of them wanted…or at least not yet

It was painful, but Mmbri knew he had to look to the long term, 17 was better than none, and one of Maesons folk was a boon worth thousands of freed brethren one day

Mmbri did not pretend to understand them, didn’t dare try…but he knew they saw the Sons as Friends and they would one day help their friends…but at the moment they were too few and under resourced to do so….
 
“One day Mumbles…” Maeson confirmed his thoughts “When we’re strong enough to step out of the shadows…” they wandered along the now empty floors of the hotel as Komo and the others looked for loot.

Mmbri paused at Jenaea’s forgotten bucket and sponge, setting it upright for a reason he couldn’t quite articulate…it just seemed Fitting

“One day….You’ll help all the other Scrubbers.” Mmbri finished.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 28, 2020, 10:43:34 PM
Chapter 9 — Chains Within — Part 2

Jenaea

For the first time she could remember, Jenaea woke when she awoke rather than at the horrific trill of an alarm or the energised blade of a slave prod.

She looked around the cool blues and greys of the neat room and felt….

Out of place

….she was defiling the crisp sheets, polished floor by her presence.  Violated and virulently exposed to the filthy taint of outsiders – how could it not stick to her – could it ever be removed?

A soft chime at the door prevented stewing further for the time.

“Oh…uh…come…come in…”

An immaculately beautiful red headed young woman holding a pile of fluffy towels r worth more than her entire hotel entered.

“You are you feeling?,”

No one had asked her that for so long Jenaea stopped with mouth agape.

The woman smiled setting her pile on a small table

“Here,” she went on unclasping a canister which opened into multiple small cups and bowls.

“Chilled gormin milk, kyala fruits and warm Gopin stew…”

The names were familiar but…did she really know them?

“…and towels and soaps for you to bathe when ready, just through there…if you need anything just ask, we can all hear you anywhere on the ship…oh of course, my name is Milaea, also here are Kiraea, Maeson, Selaena, Kassyndra and Valens.”

There was little recognition in her face Milaea realised…although the People had numbered just on 2000 at the Devastation and many knew each other, it was quite possible she didn’t know any other survivors.

“Is…is the Guardian here…” Jenaea finally said quietly looking at the food but not touching it.

Milaea nodded, there was much to update her on – but not now – the familiarity of the old ways would be best.

“I’ll get Kiraea, she’s a Guardian niece of Karintha,” against she seemed oblivious to the names

“And Valens, Grandson of Old Andis,”

“Andis…Old Andis…is he here?”

“No he…”

Always the truth Milaea reiterated to herself

“Was killed by Outsiders many years ago,”

The others arrived in short order, Milaea worrying how Jenaea sat like a ronto in headlights.  She had been relatively buoyant, understandably vicious even at the hotel…but now her captivity was over…

<The shock is setting in> Valens noted telepathically as he entered Kiraea just behind.

“Jenaea,” Valens said kneeling before to avoid intimidating her by height,

“I am Valens, son of Lyssia, Grandson of Andis,”

“And I Kiraea, daughter of Yilaea and Karan, student and niece of Karintha,”

“Guardian…” Jenaea whispered

“Am I…are we…”

“Yes Jenaea, you are free at last, we’re on course for home now,”

Even as Valens explained her face became ever more pallid.

<Perhaps you should speak to her alone Kiraea, a woman and Guardian might be more settling…>

<Agreed>

“Kiraea will tell you everything, Milaea and I will see to the ship.  The trip through to the deep core is long unfortunately, we will make a few small stops as well,” he offered a rare smile.

“It has been a hard road, but soon, you’ll be able to rest with People and the Goddesses.”

Milaea and Valens headed out leaving the other two women alone.

Kiraea sat on the floor cross legged before Jenaea who had barely moved.  She pushed a gentle probe in the aether but the recoil was instant – understandable after all she had endured.

“Why don’t you try and eat something, it’s all from home!”

Jenaea looked at the food, smelt it, saw its thermal image, behind her electromagnetic radiation sight, even felt it in the aether, it was real food but she…

“Guardian…I…I can’t I’m….I’m…”

Kiraea leaned forward as Jenaea burst

“Filthy! Unclean, unworthy, I couldn’t protect…couldn’t stop…the outsiders…”

Like lighting Kiraea had her arms around her pressing Jenaea’s head onto her breast.

“You are clean and pure! It was not your error, the Outsiders did this, the guilt and punishment will be theirs…” Kiraea could barely keep her own voice from trembling with rage –and regret for not slaughtering every Outsider on Hgla Station.

Jenaea’s tears pierced through Kiraea’s light lace outfit – lingerie Sofa called it – comfortable Kiraea termed it.  Along with it came sweat and the smell of decay that still clung to Jenaea’s hair – as soon as they got her on board they put her to bed with a gentle suppressive totem – hopefully once physically clean she would feel better…

Kiraea knew it would not be a cure all, but it would be a start.

With gentle prompting verging on a Guardians order Kiraea had her eat the majority of the food, undressing with her took her into the shower, gently but firmly helping Jenaea scrub and wash everything years of unhygienic living had scaled upon her.

Her body was almost emaciated, rib and abdominal bone plates that distinguished Aethans further from other humanoids and protected their organs better visible under taught skin.  Pink scars and purple bruises from beatings and electric shocks possibly months old were still visible.

It was testament to the hardiness of the Technocracies genetic design she was alive, Aethans required heavy metals and super-dense proteins to thrive – Outsider humanoid food ‘thin’ and barely able to sustain them over the long term.  Up to a quarter of an Aethans cellular energy derived from photosynthesis from a vast range across the electromagnetic radiation spectrum making the most of the high radiation in the deep core that was fatal with prolonged exposure to other species.

Up to 60 percent of Jenaea’s energy was being derived this way.  While not as damaged as Lydan her recovery physical and psychological would be extensive.

Finally finished Jenaea seemed hesitant to touch the warmed fluffy towels, again Kiraea sensed a fear to contaminate them.

Very Extensive.

<<<<>>>>

Maeson

(https://i.ibb.co/pbG6PFn/MAes-R-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/pbG6PFn)

A head exploded beside him spattering this Mark 1 armour with gore.  It was added to seconds later as he rammed his left fist through the chest of a Pantoran, his right firing a charric rifle to blast another’s head apart.

The operation was going well from what Maeson could see.  It could hardly not.

A Pantoran Smuggler and slaving vessel the Sons had been tracking for sometime had landed in an abandoned industrial district on Nar Haaska, it served as a staging point, forgotten and ill defended given they were only a three dozen man operation of prison exiles from Pantora

Four Aethans was overkill.

Himself charging through the bulk of them Valens just behind every swing of his sword splitting a body – Selaena on a rickety control tower sniping anyone fool enough to try anything smart – and Milaea keeping back from the main fighting but hurling defensive barriers around two dozen Sons of Kessel and a further twenty Extolled who had come with them from Aethas for some ‘blooding’.

The Pantorans would’ve stood no chance against Valens alone – the battle was over in less than ten minutes, the last blaster burnt corpse dropping to his knees.

Kicking it indifferently Maeson sighed.  This was such low level work it was embarrassing…but that was all the Sons of Kessel could manage, the main goal here was to capture the ship for a few small pickups under the cover of being slavers. 

Mumbles, heavy booted and short strode up beside him.

“This ship will help…we can free at least…” Mumbles almost sighed at this
“A hundred, maybe more…”

Hondo station and Vulpter had been a turning point for the Sons, their fleet destroyed their forces reduced to less than a thousand they had made a final flourish killing the Vigo’s Aur Hondo and Xithar…with substantial Aethan help…and then split into small cells of barely a dozen to avoid the retribution of ambitious Black Sun lieutenants who saw taking a Sons head as a way to gaining quick prestige.

It had not gone well for them since then, cell after cell had been hunted and made examples of...numbers were uncertain but the Sons now had no more than 400 across 30 odd cells.

“Better than none,” Maeson noted flatly “Did you want us to escort you at all?”

Mmbri shook his head

“We’ll be fine from here, you need to get back…though if you could…” he took out a small databpad that looked ludicrously tiny against his enormously thick psadan fingers as he tapped away.

“Another of our cells…on Boonta Sagplan…we haven’t had even the usual check in for…too long…if you get a chance…”

Boonta Shagplan was home to a very exclusive slave market and clearing house for the Hutt Throne worlds, a high end target to try anything on.

“An infiltration cell?”

Mumbles nodded

“That was what we’d hoped…deep cover of a dozen Sons trying to get jobs in shipping and logistics to pass on intel back to the other cells…last we heard they’d made a start...but then nothing…”

It was a bold move to infiltrate there, but made a lot of sense, deep cover operatives in place for not just months but years would be invaluable as the Sons rebuilt.

“We’ll check in on them, send me the codes and call signs…” he gripped the shorter beings shoulder

“Farewell Mumbles…hopefully next we meet I’ll have a dozen Aethans with me.”

Mmbri could think of nothing better.

<<<<<>>>>>

Jenaea

The time passed in many ways no different to usual for Jenaea, so used to artificial gravity and lighting.

The gravity was gradually being reset back up to Aethas normal level of 2.8 times standard to help her adapt, the air was full of the noble gases that made her lungs feel full.

The food was richer, she felt full after gorging on gormin milk and gopin stew

And then there was the nature deck.  A large mid-section opened up full of plants and animals native to Aethas where she could touch grass, trees…

One of the women was always with her, Milaea, Selaena, Kassyndra or Kiraea.  She didn’t know any of them except from sight at the Gatherings so many years before.

They talked to her briefly of their experiences, their hopes, offered her food, games, and small tasks to pass the time…

For all this attention she felt out of place, tainted.  Her home was not and had never been with the outsiders – but how could it ever be Aethas after the outsiders.

She didn’t feel like herself – her usual sarcastic and persistent in the face of adversity self.

It was as if that person she was at the hotel mere days ago – the woman that paid no attention to the myriad abuses, sloughed on despite the beating and shocks, who kept her head despite it all - was gone…

In her place was a shell shocked woman who obsessively remembered every offence against her, every failed escape or retaliation, every stab and lash she’d endured.

And felt soiled for it all.

She found tranquillity only in brief moments, watching the gobril race around Obirio trees, Kreekles pluck at mushrooms that responded with aetheric resistances.

Noting this it was on some day or other while the rest of the People were off on some stop that Kassyndra took her to the Nature deck once more.  As much as Kassyndra would like to get Jenaea home quickly, she understood the need to help repay the Sons for their assistance in pinpointing her and helping Jarys, Maeson and Selaena for so many years.

“I’ve been working on some embroidery,” Kassyndra said as the turbo lift glided down
“Did you mother, or aunts ever teach you to sew?”

Jenaea was simply staring forward.

“Jenaea?”

“Hmmm..oh yes a little…they were…potters, kiln workers mostly…”

“Oh that is wonderful, perhaps Maeson can help you set up a kiln when we get back…I’ve found doing those things I did with my family again helps.”

“Perhaps…”

The doors slid open and the burst of freshly cleaned oxygenated air wafted over them.

Stepping along the walkway that turned into a large curved path through the vast soil filled beds and small natural looking mini-creeks and brooks water pumped between native chunks of stone, Jenaea noted a hunched body near a large pile of soil and cut branches.

She could see the body visually, thermally, smell the abnormal particles…but not in the aether.

The figure stood, a wretched pointed face with neither nose nor lips and creatures scuttling down moss covered plating that served as clothes seemed to smile at her.

She screamed.

<<<<>>>>

“Ruus, one of the Extolled gardeners was working there….” Kassyndra whispered just outside Jenaea’s room, one of the eight large rooms on the Aertemisaea on the fourth deck reserved for living areas, gymnasium and medical facilities.

“Of course I couldn’t sense him while coming down…she was quite shocked by him…I think he was even more terrified seeing an Avatar cry like a Banshyy at him.”

The slip up was forgivable, no one’s fault, but still it was a large set back after only very minor progress.

Kiraea sighed, “I’ll talk to her explain the situation that the Extolled are Friends…but I think for now if they could schedule when they are on the nature deck….”

There were thirty Extolled with them on this trip, five gardeners, five shapers and twenty warriors, serving both as support, Elite re-enforcements as well as an explorative team of their own to learn more about the Galaxy.

Milaea nodded “I’ll speak to Kor-Ash I’m sure she and the others won’t mind,”

“Perhaps we should head straight back…” Kassyndra suggested

“Maeson agreed to stop off at another Hutt world first, it’s not ideal but the more we can get done on one trip the better…it should only take half a day extra, mean time perhaps two of us should stay with her instead of one…she needs healing, and we can only do that in numbers,”

<<<<>>>>

Jenaea had mostly calmed down when there was a gentle tap on the door.

“It’s Maeson with some fruits…he can leave them outside,” Kassyndra explained from what she sensed.

“No it’s fine…” Jenaea was still on the bed sheets tightly wrapped around her resistance to touching things for fear of contaminating them diminishing KAssyndra hoped…

or she considers them already soiled by her…

Maeson entered with a large woven basket brimming with Kyala fruits.

Jenaea tentatively probed him as he set it down on the table opposite the bed.

“Plenty to eat, fresh from the nature deck…first ones to grow in space in fact…”

“You were…the one at the hotel…who put the totem in the tips jar,”

He turned with a sad smile

“I was…I’m sorry I didn’t take you then…I was only equipped for reconnaissance…”

“Maeson lead the operation with our allies to find you after we heard your call for help in the aether,” Kassyndra added

Jenaea didn’t reply expect to look at him, a world weary face trying to find purpose and joy again. Not so different to her.

“Well I’ll leave you two to rest,”

<<<<>>>>

Maeson had been gone a little while, Kassyndra clearly feeling from Jenaea the attraction toward her saviour.  Jenaea was a few years older than Kiraea, had she been healthy and on Aethas…

“You know Maeson was once trapped just like you and I, forced to labour in mines for years,”

“But he had the strength to escape…” was Jenaea’s self-depreciating reply.

“No, Jarys rescued him, with the help of the Sons of Kessel who had helped Jarys escape Nar Shadda and kill the Hutt responsible for the attack on our village…”

Even as Kassyndra continued trying to console Jenaea that there was little to nothing she could’ve done a comment almost forgotten stuck with Jenaea.

“Jarys killed the Hutt responsible…”

“Yes as he escaped the fighting pits,”

“How, exactly how?”

There was a predatory and lively edge to Jenaea’s tone, one that Kassyndra was pleased to hear, the stirrings of recovery.

“He used the aether to tear the Hutt, Myzm was the name, eyes out, rammed them in the fat creatures mouth before immolate it with the aether,”

“And the body?”

“Unfortunately Jarys had no time to display it as a warning to others,”

For quite a while Jenaea sat silently brooding, thoughts long lost recurring in her memory…names…faces of all those who had harmed her…the list she used to keep of all those she wanted to punish.

Finally it struck her.

No amount of water or soaps could cleanse her of accumulated outsider filth - it wasn’t what they had done to her that made her dirty…it was her lack of retribution.

She had given the order at the hotel yes…but she had not done the killing herself. 

Only the blood of outsiders could cleanse her, make her feel redeemed and avenged.  But she was not a warrior, barely two thirds her healthy weight…yet….

She had to do it before she went home…she could not return to Aethas so unclean.

Her limbs trembling with resolve she gripped Kassyndra’s hand,

“I must speak with the Guardians,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 28, 2020, 10:45:20 PM
 
Chapter 9 — Chains Within — Part 3

Milaea

(https://i.ibb.co/vY29tVw/Mil-Sel.jpg) (https://ibb.co/vY29tVw)

“I don’t like it…” Milaea said in the privacy of the Aetheric Nexus, Valens, Maeson, Selaena and Kiraea with her, Kassyndra still with Jenaea .after she had made her plea to Kiraea

“It’s…not the righ…”

“Not the Jedi thing hmmm?” Kiraea intercepted with a smile

“My love if Jenaea feels this will help her, why not, they are just Outsiders,”

“And if it doesn’t, if she just feels more empty bloodlust?” Milaea replied uncharacteristic venom in her tone.

“Jenaea is People, and not raised by Jedi…” Valens noted his voice firm but non condemning

“The need to punish those who have wronged you is natural…Jenaea has been unable to fulfil that need, if we can help her it will be a step to her recovery,”

“At the cost of other sentient lives? How can harming others heal oneself”

“You would defend the lives of slavers and traffickers on Boonta Shagplan?” Selaena’s tone held more shock than anger

“I would protect Jenaea from further trauma…there will be more than enough blood spilt in the future…let her do it after she is trained and ready, and on a field of war, not a kill box for her benefit – what you’re proposing is cold murder.”

“Outsiders can only be culled like beasts, not murdered,” Selaena whispered

The plan was simple, while Maeson and Valens backed up by the Extolled investigated the Sons cell, Kiraea and Selaena would mind control a few slavers and traffickers, bring them to a quiet spot then let Jenaea slaughter them to her hearts content.

“This is not a debate…” Kiraea’s hand cutting through the air to end any dissent.

“Whatever Jenaea feels she needs We will provide, the only reason we don’t slaughter every last slaver on that world is because we don’t have the numbers Yet - Goddess knows if there were not other slaves that might one day join Our Allies I would personally unleash a Terror or Thought Bomb., and I don’t think you’d stop me would you my love?”

There was no point in Milaea pretending she would do anything other than actually help Kiraea in such a situation.

“It may not even be possible, we don’t know what the situation is there yet…” Maeson noted trying to find some middle ground, a protective inflection in his voice.

“The Sons may have a few targets, help them and help Jenaea,”

<<<<>>>>

She felt frustrated, angry even a she strode toward Jenaea’s room.

But ultimately they had been right…this was not about her, it was about Jenaea, who was Milaea to tell her what she needed to heal.

She stopped in the corridor to calm herself.  Violence to liberate enslaved People was one thing, rounding them up for slaughter was another.

Milaea knew in this case she was on the losing side of the argument, she had no love for the Slavers they would target, the problem was, if they were on another world without slavery, would they simply round up random citizens?

“And perhaps that masks my true discomfort,” she admitted aloud to the cool white-grey walls inset with bright lights

She had felt that primal urge herself, most potently after witnessing her Mother and aunts death while flow walking…pulsing need to cell by cell explode the tormentors of those dearest to her.

Perhaps she still feared the Dark side.

It was a thought for another time as the door opened.

“She’s asleep,” Kassyndra said before seeing Milaea’s expression

“My baby what is wrong?” her grandmother cupped her shoulders

“Just…what Jenaea asked sits ill with me….but if it is what she truly needs…”

Kassyndra offered a motherly smile as her granddaughter once again had to accept a situation she considered less than ideal. She could support her granddaughter even if she could not agree with her on such things.

“Then it is her choice…come, healing will help,”

Milaea nodded followin her in, Jenaea’s sleep was unusually deep for the Triquetra and Goddess Totems on her breast, each working subtly to repair hormonal and cellular imbalances. The lack of nutrition and natural light had resulted in her body, as it should, adapting to survive with what little it could get, however it meant many systems were shut down or unresponsive.

Much like they had with Lydan and Kassyndra herself, Jenaea required some holistic genetic realignment, the best time for which was when she slept, having to explain it might cause an upset.

Attaching the IV filled with nutrients in a saline solution they jointly began, while Milaea was the expert she was progressively teaching all the other women the methods, Kassyndra had advanced most rapidly, next to surprisingly Selaena - as Kiraea put it being mothers meant they were more in tune with Aephrodaea.

Red light from their fingers they set to work speeding Jenaea’s recovery by a week every hour.

<<<<>>>>

 
Maeson

It looked like any cosmopolitan core world city, the only distinguishing feature the wide low doors and bulbous architecture attuned to Hutt anatomy.

Boonta Shagplan was on the very fringes of the Hutt throne worlds, the most restricted parts of Hutt space which were kept strictly policed – a rare and possibly only agreement the Kadjics honoured, as much as they fought among themselves there was still an underlying unbreakable unity among the Hutts.

It was also home to one of the most exclusive slave markets in the galaxy – figures were hard to come by but if it didn’t move as many slaves in volume it did at least as much in value as Nar Shadda or Rorak IV.

There were glittering skiffs plying controlled air traffic lanes, Nimbanese administrators who managed much of the cities infrastructure, Klatooinian Guards who bore a planetary insignia rather the sign of any Hutt Kadjic, emphasising this was ‘neutral’ territory. 

More Hutts than he had even known existed were carried or even slithered along the wide boulevards from the star port to the main markets, each attended by retinues of various sizes and species.

Maeson wanted nothing more than to raise the place to the ground, the hissing disgust of his Extolled escort was likewise full of venom.  Clad in Ooglith Masquers to appear as humans, their thick sea-weed cloaks hid amphistaff’s thud bugs and blorash jelly weapons.  Between himself, Valens and the seven Vong warriors they were confident they could deal with any threat they encountered.

Valens pulled beside him, the Extolled without word moving to cover his prior position in the rear, they arranged in a loose formation ready to intercept attacks from any direction, the discipline of the Extolled absolute in protecting the Avatars of the Gods.

“The scale…hundreds of planets, trillions of beings…” Valens voice was low but laced with as much adamanitum as his visage.

“Thousands of years…how quickly though we will bring it crashing down one day…” he patted Maeson on the shoulder and took point.

Soon enough they reached the enormous Inflexed arch that stood before that market the vast markets that was a city in and of itself, holding pens, a vast levi-rail system, water recycling plants combined with enormous algae vats that produced the nutrient dense slop the slaves were fed with.

“This is a place of shamed ones…” Gnuur, the leader of the Extolled squad inquired

“Yes, where they are sold to new masters, given over as you were to Sicara for experimentation,”

“Rnnnn” the growl was one of barely restrained rage.

Maeson had a list provided by Mumbles of the contact points and passcodes.  It was unnecessary.

Barely half a kilometre into the Markets at a wide central plaza overlooked by ten storey piles of cube like cells, around an unctuous and curved fountain, in full view of the thousands of slaves from the shimmering force fields were durasteel spikes etched in old dried blood, two hundred in all, thirty of which were currently occupied by impaled beings.

Eight of them Maeson’s eidetic memory recognised despite the lacerations and post death bloating as members of the Sons of Kessel. Two of whom were the contacts placed working in the markets. 

<Still four Sons left…we find them the hard way.>

<<<<>>>>>

Jenaea

Surreal half conscious hallucinations, dislocation and disreality flooded over her in the moments between sleep and waking fully.

Jenaea expected the smell and sense of the Hotel to reappear…instead only the crisp air of the Aeretemisaea and the darkness of the cabin resolved.

Every waking she felt stronger, more herself…the shock of the transition was wearing off, both physically and mentally…the aether flowed more strongly in her body each awakening, she could sense more of the ship around her.

Kiraea and Milaea in the room next door, Kassyndra a few decks down, Selaena on the bridge, the strange void of life where the Extolled allies that had frightened her were…

She was for a time alone.

In silence.

Nothing but her soiled self.

Her scream filled the room and the aether.

<<<<>>>>

Maeson

They followed the marks.

Etchings in posts, upside down glyphs known only to the Sons, markers in public places only other members knew to look for, or their meaning.

It took some time, but with Maesons superhuman perception enhanced by the aether they soon found in the lower class districts – indentured servants barely above the slaves they fed, cleaned and watched be sold – a small two room apartment.

A quick slice from Valens and the stench wafted outward.

Three Extolled slid in as Valens and Maeson hugged the door posts.

“These ones are all dead…” The Extolled warrior stated bluntly

Maeson peeked to see the display.  Three more bodies drooping from hooks rammed in the ceiling.   

The display of corpses came as no surprise to the Extolled, Aethans even, it was a sign of prowess and warning to others…it made sense in the plaza but here…

Valens gripped the air around the Extolled and hurled them as a bundle out of the room, Maeson threw up a kinetitie bubble to protect against the shockwave of the blast.

<It’s a Trap!>

<<<<>>>>

Jenaea

With every step forward there seemed another two back.

Waking up alone in a strange place after so many years in cramped overcrowded dorm had terrified Jenaea.

The women had quickly attended to her apologies.

“Nothing to apologise for,” Kassyndra comforted as Selaena brought some food

“We’ll soon be home and then…”

<Trap> the signal hit all their minds at once, the ‘voice’ a combat mind of Valens and Maeson.

<Enemy?> Kiraea asked immediately

<Klatooinians, lying in wait for the Sons, 74 Shock Troops…>

The analysis across the group mind was instant - the Hutts were taking no chances. Whilst the Aethans were well aware how few and vulnerable the Sons of Kessel now were, the larger galaxy was not.  Propaganda videos of the Sons killing two Black Sun Vigo’s – Aur Hondo in his undersea palace on Ando, then destroying Xithars flagship on Ord Mirit were still circulating across the outer rim, carried and sought by those seeking hope.

It cut both ways – it kept the Sons reputation alive as their numbers dwindled, but also made their enemies alert for them.

The information threatened to overload Jenaea, the data on weapons, position’s, escape options, limitations, implications of they engage in this battle today for centuries long strategic goals.

Any fear of being isolated was instantly wiped away with a new terror of being subsumed by the complexity and depth of the group mind.

She held on as best she could as information flowed back and forth slowly through equivalent terabytes of data rammed into her mind each millisecond she understood the situation more clearly, she could almost fully see the whole. 

The apartment had been torn apart by the explosion, Klatooinian squads nearby pouncing immediately – Maeson and Valens had devastated the first few, the Extolled gleefully ramming their amphistaffs into bodies stuck by blorash jelly.

But the re-enforcements had arrived swiftly the squat six storey apartment blocks were rent with chain-laser fire, Cryobang and adhesive grenades blasted shanty like rooms apart as they pursued the ‘Sons’ relentlessly.

Two Extolled were injured, one on each of the Aethans backs, the idea of recovering a fallen warrior, and indeed retreating from an attack no doubt still creating subconscious dissonance in the Yuuzhan Vong warriors.

Their presence was the main reason the Aethans could not escape – Valens and Maeson were more than capable of vanishing using aetheric stealth techniques…but these could not be used on the aether dead Extolled and they could not abandon their servants.

Servants…. the word in the group mind was ‘allies’ yet Jenaea’s mind interpreted the layered nature of the relationship with reference to her own lexicon as Servants.

Kiraea and Milaea scanned through satellite imagery cross referenced to rapidly downloaded underground utility maps to feed information to the men on where they could best lose the pursuers.

They would retreat through the lower districts to the border with the industrial areas, descend through artificial metal cliffs to the gaping wound of an industrial sewerage outlet, by the time they arrived Kiraea and the rest of the Extolled would be in position to create a diversion in the cramped confines that would throw them off course.

She took all this information in passively, just as she had for so many years decisions were made around her and for her.  But this time she did have a say, she could make demands.  And she did so now.

“I’ll do it,” her words stunned Kassyndra for a moment, the woman who had been crying terrified mere minutes before now spoke with resolute severity.

“I’ll help them get away, just tell me what to do and I can do it,”

So many times she had been shown what to do and done it – clean a radiator, unclog a refresher waste pipe, deal cards, mix drinks or cleaning chemicals that made her eyes water. 

The grudging almost snide determination to continue on, the vicious desire to inflict suffering upon her tormentors, or at the very least those equally complicit in the socio-economic system that facilitated her suffering, exceeded the shock and dislocation of her recent freedom.

In any other situation they would not allow it, Jenaea was untrained and unhealthy.  But the opportunity was perfect and avoided the more cold blooded plan Milaea had objected to.

“Keep your mind open,” Selaena arriving with the food set it aside, always eager to help in taking vengeance on outsiders, “And we will guide you,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 28, 2020, 10:46:18 PM
 
Chapter 9 — Chains Within — Part 4

Maeson

It was an increasing grind through the cluttered streets.

The Klatooinian Shock Troops rained down fire from half a dozen skiffs as they raced between cover, smashing through thin walls, leaping across rooftops. 

All he had to do was squeeze and Maeson could implode the lot of them – but on a highly populated well governed world like Boonta Shagplan, the unexplained destruction of expensive combat skiffs would not go unnoticed or un-investigated.  The chance of tracing it reaching Jedi ears was low, but far higher than Hgla Station.

The weight of the Extolled on his back was insignificant, the overly stiff nature of the limbs made carrying him cumbersome.

He snapped shots with his pistol when he could, their allies hurling Thud bugs that knocked Shook Troops off the Skiffs, blorash jelly that slowed the ground troops as they would through the increasingly sparse housing that gave way to small factories and in cheap durasteel sheds.

A cryobang explosions up sent one of the Extolled flying backward toward him, the freezing blast turning the ooglith Masquer black with flash frost bite.  Not missing a beat as the ground behind him was churned by blaster fire Maeson caught the Extolled by the collar of the seaweed cloak and dragged him, pace not slowing one metre per second.

They were coming to the chasm like break between city sectors, a four storey drop into a vast drainage channel.  Valens was leaping across the rooftops, pistol shots hitting heads every time, Maeson on the ground spun to fire three more Charric blasts into the engine vents sending it into a black smoke spewing spiral downward.

The damage done here was no compensation for the loss of intelligence a cell on Boonta could’ve provided but if ascribed to the Sons it could help recruitment as a show of activity.

Winding through the churned shanty town the smell hit them before the view of the yawning chasm dripped in green and brown rusts.  It reeked of excessive chlorination and acid’s used in manufacturing masking faecal wastes as it glugged away from the factories on the other side.  An insulting parody of a river.

Hard right they ran parallel to the ravine of duracrete sighting the exit sewer – a non-flowing outlet in the opposite wall – 600 metres ahead two storeys down.

The Skiffs banked hard, the Kaltooinians sneered thinking they finally had them trapped against the muck filled drop and had their re-enforcements come round to catch them from the front and sides.

Trampling through crates and tents of those desperate enough to live beside the hideous ravine Maeson caught an-antiglare of something dark atop a building he passed, the Extolled still running now panting keeping up with him, their shaper implanted biots gave them unnatural speed and strength but only in short bursts.

A wave of burning air hit is back and added to his speed as the skiffs just behind were struck by the yellow-orange flare of the first explosion.

Jenaea held the detonator tight to her chest as she watched crouched beneath Selaena in a grotty hovel that jutted out enough to let them view the chase from behind.

The other Skiffs slammed their reverse repulsor drives just as they had anticipated.

She hit the next button.

Another blossom of flame burst from a two storey shanty behind the wreck of the first the shields on the Skiff protected it from the flame, but the concussive wave sent it spinning over the sewer river as Maeson and the others gained distance, now only a hundred meters from the ‘leap point’.

Vulnerable, and uncomfortable as it made her Jenaea kept open to Selaena as she fed unconscious guidance on when to detonate the next mine.  It had been a quick trip to the surface with the other women, Milaea had dominated the minds of the denizens of the hovels to leave as Jenaea, Selaena and Kassybdra planted the mines, and Kiraea took position…

A position she used to good effect now as the Re-enforcement skiffs arrived charging head first at Maesons group.  Neither sound nor flash erupted – the only evidence of the shot was the Sergeant’s helmet popping open at the rear to splay brain and skull on the Shock Trooper behind him.

There was no time for panic as Jenaea hit the next button, turning another evacuated hovel to a flaming wreck, she felt buoyed by the deaths she inflicted, but it was still too Distant.

The third mine blasted skiff smashed to ground barely six meters ahead of them, metal and bodies mixed, one flickering spark of life in the inferno of flame that set the skiffs power cells trembling, a plasma breach imminent. 

Maeson quickly pinged his intentions and Valens agreed.  As Valens pivoted to leap across the sewer way, Maeson still dragging one Extolled and carrying another crashed through the flames to grab the skiffs only survivor.

The Klatonninians cursing the terrorist Sons pulled up to avoid losing more men to the obvious trap as Maeson burdened by three beings took a running leap across the chasm, hurling the two he was carrying by and for Valens to catch, and landing with a dura-grate shattering thump into the pipe.

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/1sKLDqv/Maes-R-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/1sKLDqv)

There as an open wound in the Klatooinian’s back that had nothing to do with the injuries sustained from the skiffs crash.

Telekinetically ripping out the tracking chip Maeson now crushed it in his fist as he slammed the captive against the wall.

“Where is the last one?” he seethed as Valens contacted Kiraea to work out their exit point and the Extolled attended to their wounds.

Here were twelve members of the Sons cell, eight were impaled in the plaza, three in the apartment.

“I will not,” was the guttural reply that echoed in the dark brown rust tinged sewer intersection that had never seen sunlight to the point most of the mosses and algae’s were stark white under the Extolled small yellow lambents.

“You will,” Maeson replied gathering his strength to plunge deep into the creatures mind before re-considering.

“Gnuur,” he called to the Extolled squad leader

“Belek-Tui!” – Command me was the furious obedient response – a creature that knew its place in the presence of Children of the Goddesses.

“Show me how the Yuuzhan Vong interrogate a captive,”

Gnuur was beside him in an instant taking a small writhing scorpion like creature from a living leathery pouch.

“Kos - Bruk tukken nom canbin-tu….” Gnuur explained with a lipless grin as the Klatooinian sneered defiant.

First – weaken the hinges of the enemies fort.

<<<<>>>>

Jenaea

She was still shaking, hands clammy.  The sensation had been…exhilarating on reflection.

Jenaea had held power in her hands for the first time in…

The detonator controlled life and death, flame and ruin, and the choice of when to use it had been hers…she comically compared it to holding her old mop, though she had no choice about the mopping for the shock collar, she could control how much she did, and even took on occasion some pride in cleaning, even though under duress it was still something she had control over.

But it was nothing compared to the control she had felt blowing the skiffs to pieces. 

“Did…did they get away?” she finally asked in the cool of the Transports bedroom.

“Soon, they’re making their way through the industrial district,” Selaena explained, similar experience gave her an affinity with Jenaea, and she fully intended to support her desire to have her vengeance against the Outsiders.

“After that we will leave this place, you have been too long from home and the Goddesses.”

In another sign of growing confidence Jenaea shook her head

“I can’t, not till I feel…clean of these insults…destroying those creatures with mines felt…”

Selaena nodded – she understood very well.  For her it had been enough to explode heads and occasionally eviscerate an outsider with a combat knife while serving with the sons, but everyone was different in what satiated their needs.

Further back in the ship the ramp hissed open as the men and Extolled returned, the other Extolled quickly seeing to their comrades as they shared tales of the ‘Avatar’s Glory’ in saving them, something unheard of in the old Yuuzhan Vong warrior creed.

“Took your time,” Kiraea huffed at the hours long wait,

“And Goddesses you stink!”

Valens rolled his eyes, holding back any retort, they had bigger issues.

“And what might those issues be?” Kiraea demanded sitting on a crate in the hold arms crossed.

“They still have one of the Sons alive,” Maeson explained, Gnuur’s interrogation had the desired effect, and was achieved by means, though educational, he had no wish to see again.

“And intend to auction them off at an Up-City gathering…”

Kiraea’s eyes focused as her mind rapidly pieced together the situation.  They had killed 11 of 12 Sons, publically displayed 8 bodies, used the others as a trap for a relief team, why spare one unless that one had intelligence – which was not possible since breaking up into cells each worked almost completely independently to prevent the capture of one compromising any others – no amount of torture could extract what one did not know.

There was only one logical conclusion…the Sons member they had captured and wanted to display alive had to be…

“Keison…” Selaena said entering. 

Over twenty years ago Keison, the galaxy-weary bald scarred human had recruited Jarys to the Sons on Nar Shadda, trusted in his abilities, helped rescue Maeson and Selaena, then with the three Aethan Vorynx squad doubled the Sons numbers, tripled their capacity and come breathtakingly close to moving them from a guerrilla faction to a military-state…until the Black Sun under Aur Hondo had shattered that dream and a Hutt crack down delivered the final blow.

He was the face of the Sons on holo-vids narrating executions of masters, Vigo’s and Hutt’s, a bounty of 20 million credits on his head.  After Ord Mirit Adaea had created various holographic orbs to give to each Sons cell to make him appear everywhere and keep their reputation alive.  He was the only member of the Sons any slave owning society would bother to keep alive after interrogation.

Maeson shared a look with Selaena, her hatred for Outsiders knew no bounds, but even she had a grudging debt to Keison for his help, one she could now repay. 

“He is a friend of the People, we must will him if we can” Maeson concluded

<<<<>>>>

Milaea

Speed and discretion were their two tools. 

Getting a berth in the Upper City, a forest of bulbous Hutt towers away from the main markets, where the more ‘refined’ traders dealt in ‘exotics’ was easy enough with their credits, finding out about where Keison was held less so.

Overheard conversations, subtle mental delves, remotely hacking holo-pads, all were employed as Milaea, Kiraea and Valens scoured the upper reaches, each accompanied by two Extolled, while the others prepared.

Milaea could see the mag train was out of control already, a bloody and vicious ending would ensue, but there was no stopping it, and in many ways she didn’t want to.

Every moment on Boonta Shagplan tempted her rage, the suffering of so many beings, and worse the apathy of those resigned to their life of ‘indentured servitude’ could not be blocked out.

There was no helping it, to find Keison she needed to remain as open to the aether as possible, seeking out from the millions of thoughts the key words ‘Sons’, ‘Exclusive’, ‘Keison,’ and the like.

In her regular red and black leathers she strode down the opulent enclosed shopping strips, it looked like any other high end fashion mall in the galaxy – and Sofa had certainly taken her to a few between missions – bright light grey flooring and glistening chandeliers over the promenade between rows of two storey stores mae of vast window displays with attendants waiting at the doors to greet the next customer - the only real difference was the Hutt friendly aisles, widened entrances, and a slick laminar flooring to make slithering easier.

But the staff, not the managers of course, were all ‘long term indentured labour’, the system the Hutts often cloaked their slavey in.  Compared to the cages and squalor of some slaves, the finery seemed somehow worse, an ever present salt in the wound, to be part yet separate from upper class life, favoured pets.

As she noted the prices on living beings were less than some golden jewelled hutt arm bands glittering on a small turntable in a window she had to flow through a calming sequence to keep herself from shattering the entire building into molecules.

A single thought and Jarys would come with the rest of the Extolled and Aethans, between them they could tear this would apart and make the Night of Madness seem an appetiser to the destruction unleashed here…

But she couldn’t - and that was the hardest part.

She was powerless, a woman who could tear buildings from their foundations, turn Gen’Dai to dust, plant false memories in the most powerful Jedi masters…couldn’t feed and clothe, rehabilitate and heal the millions of ‘servants’ trapped here even if she let them loose.

A twi’leki woman, hunched with age scrubbed at a bulbous green stain on the floor, up ahead a Hutt with his retained suck some kind of aquatic creature and spitting the gloop to the ground.  Despite her pristine uniform the band with two glowing lights around her wrist told Milaea all she needed to know.

It reminded her of Jenaea…she had done the same, scrubbed and scrubbed others filth, and like Milaea felt now, was powerless to change her situation.

Perhaps that is what Jenaea wants, to take her power back…however violently…and who am I to deny her

Smiling sadly she passed close to the old woman, dropping discreetly a 50 credit chit in her bucket.  The woman looked with open mouthed awe as Milaea slid past and removed from the twi’leki any memory of her ever being there – wishing she could do the same for herself.

<<<<>>>>

Jenaea

They followed the Nimbanel female at a generous distance, superhuman hearing and sight continuing to catch her idle chatter on her comm-link, complaining of her husbands work hours and the high price of feed for her servants to an equally over indulged Nimbanel administrators wife on the other end.

Kiraea was impressed by Jenaea’s ability to remain concealed, then she quickly recalled it was not through training but necessity, years of trying to avoid a Master’s whip had sharpened aethan instinctive stealth abilities.

<Can you take it?> Kiraea asked telepathically wishing to give her the option, the best way to help her recover Kiraea believed was to get her involved – Jenaea was used to unending chores, time spent in quiet and solitude was still foreign to her and no doubt the cause of her distress on the Aertemisaea – rest was just too much of a shock to her usual routine.

<I can…>

Nimble yet hidden, Jenaea wove through the crowds head down in a defeated posture that came all too naturally, it stung Kiraea to see that ease of self resignation in a Person, even if she understood the reason for it.

Looking like any other beaten down handmaid no one paid her the slightest attention, the Nimbanel woman they were tracking did not even glance away from the delicate Whorl Flowers decorating a mist covered florist.

A quick ‘bump’ followed, the misdirection to the Nimbanels left as Jenaea snuck her fingers into the bag was expert, the snatch fast, the palming discrete – were Kiraea herself not so adept at pickpocketing she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Apologies mistress!” Jenaea muttered,

The Nimbanel woman gave her a brief scornful look but didn’t deign to speak to the ‘help’, simply tightening her grip on her bag and continuing on her way.

<How many?>

<Three…> Jenaea answered referring to the invites to the ‘Special Event’ auction their eavesdropping had uncovered.

<We’ll need more…>

<<<<>>>>

A gentle tap on the door as they dressed in clothes cleaner than anything Jenaea had seen in years. 

Again she had been almost afraid to touch them, felt out of place around them, but with the supportive urges of the other women she soon passed through – if not yet able to avoid – the distress.

“Got some fruits,” Maeson called behind the door, Kiraea checking everyone was dressed before letting him in to place the tray down.

“Just picked myself, the trees are doing well on the Nature Deck, better than I thought,”

While only miniature Kyala fruits, half a palm size unlike the full grown ones, they were a welcome relief from Chiss produced nutrient packs.

Jenaea watched every movement he made carefully in the seemingly innocuous task of setting the plate down.  Kiraea not failing to note her attention on him, the only male not obviously marked by another woman’s pheromones like Valens was.  No doubt after so many years alone Jenaea would have some pent up desires…and Kiraea was only too happy to stoke them with a convenient match.

“Maeson worked very hard with the Extolled to create a miniaturized breed capable of growing quickly in artificial light,” Kiraea explained to Jenaea before turning on Maeson

“You will show Jenaea the new orchards soon after we get home won’t you,” It was less question than command

“It would be my pleasure,”

“You found a way in then?” Kiraea asked keeping the conversation moving

“Valens is with a few Extolled preparing the way, a hostile takeover of one of the catering firms…”

Kiraea smiled at the thought of the lolling drooling outsiders Valens was leaving littered about some large kitchen.

“I think Jenaea wished to tell you something didn’t you Jenaea?” Kiraea’s sudden turn of conversation stunning both of them.

“I well…I was curious…” She faltered

“’er yes this Keison was your friend Selaena tells me, helped all three of you…I’m very sorry he has been taken, I…”

She paused uncertain for a time as he looked at her, calming brown eyes with a hint of sadness behind them.

“I hope I can help him,”

The smile was warm in reply

“I’m sure you will, and yourself as well,”

“Oh I’m certain she will,” Kiraea concluded.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 28, 2020, 10:47:12 PM
Chapter 9 — Chains Within — Part 5

Cleansing

Toopark scanned the ident passes one after the other, checking idly the holo’s on the concierge pad.

They all matched with varying degrees of photo editing evident on some of the passes, one obese Nikto appeared far slimmer and younger in his holo, an aged Sephi had far less white hair…

Another beep and he looked up at the strangest pair of Nimbanels he had ever seen, alabaster white human skin rather than pale pink, luxurious red hair instead of a bald scalp and feminine aquiline noses instead of the large tusk’s and no facial hair at all.

Tooprak simply shook his head. Kiraea, Kassyndra and Milaea smiled as they passed the concierge.

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/ck9QzqK/Auction.jpg) (https://ibb.co/ck9QzqK)
Hui’Cal observed the gathering crowd from the balcony overlook the main shop floor.  A large round three storey space that was peppered with displays of his finest products in hovering holding sphere’s so his customers could get a full view of the luxury products from every angle.

Amidst the throngs the Nimbanel kept a close eye on the serving staff, Your-esh had been ill, in his place was taken by a human fellow who seemed rather taciturn.  Regardless so far there appeared no difficulties.

He checked his Bvagara Chronometer inlaid with white gold hands, the unveiling would occur soon.  Most of the most likely buyers were already here, Hutts of course on elegant hover sleds or gliding about the polished floors, but also other traders.

It had taken a veritable sea of ‘lubrication’ to convince the nominally ‘independent’ Klatooinian Guard of Boonta Shagplan to give him the task of selling the terrorist leader – the majority of the sale of course went back to funding the Guard, a nifty cost recovery policy who owned the exlcusive product, but Hui’Cal would obtain the prestige of being the one who sold and displayed the product.

Given the bounty was 20 million credits it would fetch no less than that of course, but the glory of having the notorious leader of the Sons of Kessel as a trophy was worth triple that at least – whether he would be kept as a pet, encased in carbonite or sold onto another bidder Hui’Cal could not care less.

To ensure nothing went awry given the recent trivial skirmish between the Klatooinian Guard and the Sons terrorists Hui-Cal had, in addition to two dozen Klatooninian shock troops and his own personal guard of fourteen, employed twelve Echani Eclipse-Guard warriors, the one evening cost for the elite warriors in svelte pale blue reflective armour was exorbitant, but on this occasion he would leave nothing to chance. 

His silken robes tight to his body he proceeded down to the second tier balcony, idly noting among the crowds a gaggle of red headed human women who he oddly did not recognise…likely retainers of a Hutt with a fetish of some kind.

The chattering below and gentle hum of bid on the other far less interesting Exotic products died down as he stepped to the caster to commence the crowning achievement of 25 years in the Trade.

<<<<>>>>

Sickness and decay was all about her.

While not virulent it was still visceral.  It was a moral putrefaction, an indifference and blindness to how the galaxy could be any different.

Beings in a semi suspended animation hovered over Milaea’s head naked as ‘Masters’ wearing a moons worth of clothing gawked and bid in silent auctions upon discrete datapads offered at the door.

Yet what struck her most was the similarity to her own people.  They might be – in this instance – on opposite sides of an economic and social issue, but both had entrenched unalterable beliefs on how the galaxy should be. 

If the Aethans helped the Sons abolitionist cause it was not, in truth due to a moral position, but a complex cultural belief in the proper place of things, other beings should remain on their native worlds with their local Gods, travelling only for occasional trade and study among ‘friends’, interrupting this idyll of racial and cultural segregation was the true enemy they fought with the Sons to end. 

How long will it be before they realize that she wondered – as it was with the Extolled so it was with the Sons – they ultimately served the People’s goals, a People that could never realise the hypocrisy of their actions or double standards in their galactic view.

<He’s moving to the lectern…as soon as we have eyes on begin> Kiraea ordered as they fanned out, Selaeana and Kassyndra staying close to Jenaea, Kiraea on the first balcony.

Maeson and Valens were on the main floor, the Extolled comical in their ooglith maquers, all covered by clean pressed black waiting uniforms, moving as innocuously as possible toward the shimmering blue of the Echani Eclipse Guard – out of a total 50 guards, it was these twelve that posed the most danger, the near human Echani were skilled as any Jedi in close combat, often better for their more aggressive and wide ranging technique – and while Aethan reflexes and strength would overcome them one on one easily enough, if the Echani were strategic they could make things very difficult.

“Friends, tonight I present to you a rare and exciting prospect,” the Abednedo Hui-Cal utilized a discrete Huttese translator in his elaborate necklace, the language in which business was conducted on this planet.

His mouth tendrils glistened with disgusting anticipation as if salivating at the prospect, Milaea felt even less merciful, if not quite insensitive to his inevitable fate.

“Behold, Keison the Reviled, slayer of Vigo’s, the formidable Aur Hondo the Stern and the incomparable Xithar the Epicurean”

A large piece of the central floor opened with hidden seams, the marble peeling back like a flower to allow another fluid filled cube with a being to levitate on micro-repulsors, hovering above the crowd circled around it.

Within was a bald, scarred and battered man, even through the liquid haze he was suspended in it was obvious he had been tortured, puncture marks and purple bruising littered the body.

Milaea was now on the verge of enjoying what was about to transpire.  The Klatooinian Guard was too well informed to not know how the Sons now operated two years after their defeat – each cell operated independently of any other, only data on targets was shared, never details on specific missions or bases of operations, he could not reveal anything of the rest of the network for he did not know, the torture had been gratuitous.

<That’s him…> Maeson confirmed as Kiraea and Selaena slipped their hands under their dresses detaching the EMP’s and transmission scramblers tied to her thighs.

That was all the signal they needed, Milaea headed toward the door as Hui-Cal continued to extol what a rare opportunity this was.

<He’s barely alive…without immediate healing…> Kassyndra her senses acutely probing the body
<…and even then…> 

There was little hope for their friend, as powerful as Aethan shatter point healing abilities could be they were…not suited for Outsiders – they could heal their own People marvellously by instinctively re-enforcing Aethan genetic patterns and optimal homeostatic rhythms – applied to outsiders it produced…strange effects and transformed rather than restored. 

The Extolled’s emergency medical equipment, involving rapid implantation of symbiotic creatures was little better as an option.

On another being they might apply such a treatment, but Selaena and Maeson had been clear in the planning, Keison would never want to be ‘remade’ as a semi-super human even if it meant death –as a former slave his bodily autonomy was sacrosanct – as his Friends they would respect those wishes.

The crowd was full of whispers and guffaws at the once feared terrorist brought low, gestures crude and profane were directed by various masters in his direction.

All eyes on the prize Hui-Cal felt budding joy at what he would soon earn.  Milaea found only grim amusement in the Abednedo’s thoughts as she gently slid into a side hall where the refreshers were, at least two Eclipse and three Klatooinians noting her departure, but thinking nothing more of it as she entered a stall.

With a blaze of red in her eyes Milaea tore the heavy doors to the showroom from their motors and fused them together at the seams into a single block of doonium, covering the entire chamber in what the Arts of Aephrodaea call the Veil of Mist – a suppressive aetheric field that blocked sound, light, heat and emotion from escaping the vast bubble that only she was strong enough to maintain alone.

Idly noting the intricate designs on the refresher stall walls she turned a blind eye to all that was now unleashed beneath her Veil.

<<<<>>>>

Silent detonations unleashed scrambling waves of energy that disabled all comms in the showroom, Kiraea and Selaena crushed the now spent devices under their feet. 

Milaea’s Veil cast the entire room apart from the planet beyond, almost putting it outside of time for the half hour or so she could sustain it, a feat incredible even by Aethan standards that would require all the young woman’s attention.

The Echani, always more attune to such things began to notice the change to the flow of eldritch energy in the room moments before all their comm’s lost their signals.

As they began to rouse the other guards discreetly as possible – as per Hui-Cal’s instruction no unnecessary disruption would be tolerated – slithering living weapons wrapped around Aethan and extolled waists crawled up shirts and down arms.

They needed no blasters or metal’s, there were very few technologies in the galaxy yet capable to detecting Yuuzhan Vong weaponry.

Jenaea slid out the two Couffees she had been given, bone growth blades sharp as worked Cortosis.

“…now friends we shall warm up by opening bidding on the other items in tonight’s collec…” Hui-Cal would never finish that sentence as his world ended around him.

The universe seemed to move in slow motion as Extolled and Aethan swiped with concealed blows at the Eclipse Guard with amphistaffs of piercing red locking scales.  The Echani reacted swiftly, avoiding the main thrusts of all but Kiraea, Valens and Maseons strikes which hit true shattering their luminous blue armour and the muscle and bone beneath.

Selaena threw her hands forward and unleashed torrents of precise lighting straight into the lenses of the Klatooinian guard as the Extolled not engaged with Echani hurled thud bugs at Hui-Cal’s ostentatiously armoured personal guard.

The entire showroom erupted into chaos.  Masters and their retinues rushed to the doors, banging ineffectually on the still hot fused lumps of metal, fumbled with useless comm’s – a few drew their own secreted hold-out blasters and weapons, one even had a lightsabre – but the confusion was so great they knew not upon whom to turn them, killing fellow customers, guards, and shattering Slave stasis cubes rather than doing any damage to the main attackers.

The Extolled found glorious challenge in the Echani as the Aethans tore free from their waiters uniforms and fine clothes to devastate the Klatooinians two or three at a time with superhuman speed that left the shock troops no time to block, and strength that broke bone and ruined muscles and organs with every impact.

The Echani were quick and precise, their only disadvantage was they had never encountered weapons such as those the Extolled wielded – blorash jelly that pinned their feet to the floor or arms to their chest –thud bugs that slammed repeatedly like Blurg Cavalry charges into their back, amphistaffs that were rigid as a sword one moment, lithe as a whip the next before spitting venoms that sizzled on their blue plating.

Blaster fire began from the upper tiers, Kassyndra’s threw kinetite shields around the others to bounce the faux energy she resented away with one level of consciousness before two others sought the artificial energy pockets high above her and heated them till they exploded in their guards hands moments before Kiraea and Selaena, having depopulated the second level, reached the third and tore through them like acrobats – barely touching the ground they waltzed upon the burly warriors with kicks and stomps that broke necks or crushed skulls.

Hui-Cal gibbered as an Extolled reached him, soiled himself as the amphistaff toward his face was stopped an inch from hitting by an Eclipse guard blade, his credits never better spent.

Two Eclipse onto one Extolled the Vong warrior found himself outmatched, energy swords slicing his masque to shreds and cutting deep into his muscles and biots that pumped hormones furiously through him, a last gasp as he was taken apart he managed to claw one of the Eclipse down with him, smothering the blue armour with his black blooded hand and ramming his bladed-arm horns into the gaps so they died together.

Somewhere amidst what turning from battle into butchery, a blaster bolt fired from the ground floor by a Shock trooping hoping to hit the floating form of one of the two Aethan angels of death above bounced against an instinctive aetheric shield into the hovering cube that contained Keisons’s limp body.

Compressed green Plasma energy struck the upper micro repulsor sizzling it in an instant as the discharge overloaded the petty shield about the stasis fluid Hui-Cal kept his slaves entombed in.

Before any could prevent it amidst their own engagements the containment cube failed, viscous liquid falling to the floor, Keisons already shattered body with it.

With a wet crack the leader of the Sons of Kessel for twenty years, once commander of an army 10,000 strong, a fleet of 70 ships, reviled, feared and celebrated in equal measure, and more than all this a man who turned grief for his families suffering into salvation for others died piteously as his ruined body struck the floor, numbing agents in the stasis fluid denying him even a last moment of consciousness.

The death was one more dull light out in Maeson’s aetheric senses, yet one of the only Outsider lights that held any worth.  Fury through his hands snapped the neck of the last Echani – not satisfied he lifted the limp body and cracked it open on his knee before dumping it beside the fallen Extolled.

Hui-Cal, shuddering forgotten under the three bodies wept at the loss of his prize – the self indulgent feelings catching Maeson’s ire fully.  Lifted by invisible hands into the air above the throngs as the battle continued across the three balcony tiers and main floor, the fearful masters watched with cruel magick Hui-Cal was dissected into organ, muscle and bone then left to drop upon the floor.

May your Six Gods find you Friend… Maeson prayed to the hidden deities of Keisons forgotten home world.

For all the madness the battle was short.

Less than five minutes after Milaea’s Veil was established the guards were dead or critically wounded, the Extolled gnashing to finish them off as the Masters in various alcoves, behind columns or under tables cowered.

A few remained standing proud and undaunted.

“You Sons will never succeed!” a Phindian spat beside an equally firm looking Hutt who now spoke

“You defy the natural order, kill us if you will, but you will not change the reality, the weak serve the strong, by compulsion or compliance,”

Maeson strode toward them, left arm bloody as the amphistaff around his right hissed to feast further..

Without a gesture he raised both from the floor, their hands, long fingered and stubby alike clambering for constricting trachea.

“Jenaea, you may now begin,”

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/hLbBXSJ/Jen-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/hLbBXSJ)
She once had a list.

3000 long, mostly just descriptions for she did not know the names.  Of beings who had hit her, groped her, whipped her or worse.

Jenaea had spent hours that turned to years imagining punishing each of them, watching them before her as helpless as she had been.

The list had grown so long over the years her memory began to fade, she realised now it didn’t matter.  One outsider was as putrid as any other, and her vengeance could be inflicted accordingly.

Blood a half dozen different colours was up to her shoulders, strands of meat and flecks of bone in her hair. The stench of creatures soiling themselves as they were dragged telekinetically toward her by the others settled into her clothes.

It had been years since she felt so clean.

She killed them all, watched as they writhed, mouthed words she couldn’t hear with offers of credits, power, even, and she laughed at this – slaves  -that one she made eat its own vile reproductive organs.

The other masters watched locked to the floor by the aether, blorash jelly, or outright horror waiting for their turn.

Their helplessness amused her,

This is how it feels, this is what you’ve done, to others and now I do it to you

It seemed to go on for weeks, yet the ornately gilded time piece on what had been Hui-Cals wrist showed barely twenty minutes had passed - before it became so stained it was unreadable.

Even the Extolled turned at some of the punishments inflicted by the Avatar.

Her limbs soon tired – the Coufee’s she had used drenched and dull, amphistaffs left to feast on the fallen bloated and full. The ever curious Shapers among the Extolled took a chance to perform quick hands on dissections of various species, their crab like hands working wonders to divide tissues, sacs and fluids.

Her arms were shaking from the fatigue, mind reeling from the endless parade of those who had harmed her that played across her mind as she slaughtered and mutilated, vicariously punishing each and every one of those beings an eidetic memory could not truly forget with the blood of these ‘masters’.

“Masters…” she sneered as one of the last lay half alive before her

“WHO’S YOUR MASTER NOW!!! WHO”S YOUR MASTER NOW!”  with each syllable she kicked the creature whose species was obscured by the pool of flesh it swam in.

Finally sinking to her knees she felt the warm glow through her limbs and whispered her reply to the question,

“I’m my master now,”

At last, washed by the blood of her enemies she had freed herself.

<<<<>>>>

Thirty minutes after they had left through Hui-Cal’s apartments and into the cluttered traffic of upper Boonta-Shagplan the first alarms were sounded when the Eclipse Guard failed to report in on schedule.

Klatooinian Shock Troops in standby for another Sons attack arrived too late.

In total 263 beings had been killed, 23 product missing.  This alone was enough to warrant investigation and lead to the replacement of the Klatooinian Senior Guard and Intelligence officers for their failures – the state of the 263 bodies, displayed in gruesome totems and piles, others splayed open with autopsy like incisions – prompted horror and outrage.

The final piece, upon the far wall made from limbs pinned by knives and swords in place was a warning in the curling Huttese script – the catch cry of the Sons.

“We Are Coming,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 28, 2020, 10:47:50 PM
Chapter 9 — Chains Within — Epilogue

Endings

The lightless moon in a system with a designation but no name was where they met Jarys and the others on the Aephrodaea before descending, the 22 rescued slaves handed over to the Sons cell on the fringes of Bothan space still unconscious from the stasis fluids.

They simply had no time nor resources to handles them.

Upon that un-walked empty plain they piled fallen branches from the nature deck beneath Keisons body, the atmosphere just sufficient for the cremation.

A Friend of the People had been slain, worse he had died in captivity after a life time trying to avoid it.

A harrowing reminder of how many of their own People had done likewise that they would never know of.

Jenaea would never meet Keison, but she felt what might be understood as sympathy that he had died re-enslaved - mingled with joy that she, with the protection of the others, would not.

They stood in a circle about the azure flames as his body turned to ash.

He had fought hard, long, come so close to establishing a Military state of freedmen as warriors to liberate others – arguably he had pushed too hard, attracted too much attention too quickly and suffered as a result.

In light of the suffering every day, no one could fault him for his urgency.

His legend would live on, how he died unimportant compared to the leaked truth from the point of view of the Klatooinian Guard – 263 Masters and their warriors dead, Keison the Reviled Terrorist escaping, no trace would ever be found, for decades after bounty hunters and mercenaries would try and claim the 30 million price on his head, for a century his tale would be told in hushed whispers in the spice mines of Kessel.

Somewhere in hyperspace between hungry runs sipping poorly filtered waters Mmbri heard the news with growing despair.

The glory and the publicity of the massacre on Boonta Shagplan would be the Sons…and theirs the backlash as well.

Much though Mmbri respected - even loved as siblings - Maeson, Jarys, Selaena and their kind for all their help, their devastating power, he now realised at last what Keison might never have – they were a blunt and excessive instrument unsuited to what the Sons needed.

On Ando and Ord Mirit they had killed Vigo’s, now they had killed even more masters on the fringes of the Hutt Throne worlds – it sounded like a coup, but the retribution that would inevitably follow was too much for the Sons to bear.  The Aetherians using the Sons as cover for their horrific slaughters was a liability they could not afford.

One day, in better times their extreme violence and destructive potential could be used…but for now.

Thick Psadan fingers turned the small oblivion orb he had been gifted over for the last time before placing it in a small box that contained ancient relics of the First Sons where it would wait until another time.

On Aethas Jarys would carve a memorial statue that would one day sit across from Yoda’s in the small grotto that in some years would be renamed the Cavern of Friends.

In the dying light of the pyre Maeson reaffirmed his promise to one day finish what they had, as brothers in arms, begun.

<<<<>>>>

Beginnings
(https://i.ibb.co/0Z64K1R/Jen-6.jpg) (https://ibb.co/0Z64K1R)

Certain as the sun came the knock on the heavy Obirio wood door, so much nicer than the electric buzz and ‘light’ shock of a collar to wake her up.

Jenaea made no hurry to answer it, knowing her visitor was more than content to wait.

She was lying beside the warm glow of the hearth, embers still smouldering from the night before, smoky charcoal scents mingled with the rich musks of the fresh wool and flax of the furniture’s. 

The entire house was new built down a little tree lined path from Kassyndra’s, though she could’ve stayed with any of the others Jenaea was coming to enjoy her privacy after so many years in cramped bunks moist from alien sweat.

Here everything was clean, fresh, new and quiet, and she liked it that way.  She could lounge about as much as she pleased with no demands or clock to concern her.

“Coming…” she finally deigned to reply throwing on the shawl she had recently finished, Kassyndra was right in that respect it helped to keep busy with things from her youth, she would still wake disoriented on occasion but the frequency was now less than one in every three days.

The long house already had a pleasing level of clutter, mostly around the workbench and wheel where she was taking her time on making pottery as her family once had – she would not now, not ever be hurried in her work or made to clean up again.

There as always was ‘Farmer’ Maeson with a basket covered full of foods covered in the same cloth covered in carefully stitched whorls, his skin showing a touch of heat from the walk from the orchards on the plains up to the Mountain village.

“Morning Jenaea, I’ve brought you some grain breads, dried Kyala and Gopin jerky today,”

He set the basket down on the small table she had Jarys make her expressly for that purpose.

Taking off the cloth she could feel the pride radiate off him at the produce he had cultivated, even as he held the stitched cloth tightly - she had asked about it some weeks ago, it was stitched by his wife, now passed. 

It saddened her imagining all this kindly man had lost, all this farmer who relished the simple tasks of seeing to his orchid and flocks of Gopin had been forced to become, seeing him now so comfortable in simple workman’s leathers only emphasised how out of place he was in Oblivion armour.

“I’m not sure how I’ll eat all that…” her appetite had stabilized as she recovered physically and slowly returned to a normal weight.

“…perhaps you could join me later, after your morning work,” her smile warm and inviting – other as her nutrition improved, to her surprise other appetites so long forgotten had grown.

She enjoyed watching as he had built a kiln in her yard, digging out a large hole for the firebox, lined with rough hewn chunks of greysleet they cut by hand, then stacking shards from the mining of Mount Aelia to built the dome over it.  Of course the other men had helped, but Maeson had done the bulk of the work, staying after sunset to ensure it was made as quickly as possible for her.

It was a gesture she understood as more than mere assistance in her recovery, or protectiveness of the woman he had lead the expedition to rescue – there was an element of desperate servitude she had felt as he worked those cold nights – he wanted to work for not just the Women of the People, but a Woman of the People again.

Jenaea had every intention of enabling him.

“And then, unless you have other chores, you could finally take me to see your orchards?”

He returned her grin with a soft spoken one of his own.
(https://i.ibb.co/YfDdL1B/Maes-Jen-1.png) (https://ibb.co/YfDdL1B)

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: HesaHeart on June 28, 2020, 10:51:49 PM
Wow the words are strong with you great stuff


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 28, 2020, 11:03:36 PM
Wow the words are strong with you great stuff

Thanks! I owe a lot to the feedback and support from the other writers on here, especially the Dutchman and Karmack, for improving since I started.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on July 05, 2020, 09:06:26 PM
What a chapter!  From Jenaea's hopeless slavery to her emancipation, her PTSD to her bloodlust, this is one of your most poignant submissions, a character study of a broken woman that--while having her resolution--she is still not whole.  Of course, that is from MY moral filter; for Jenaea...well, Aethans have proven themselves as subscribing to an entirely different (and alien) ideology.  Still, I can't fault her for her desire for justice/vengeance after everything that she's been through (and let's face it: seeing bad things happen to bad people IS vicariously cathartic).

But I think that, once again, this chapter underscores precisely WHY the Aethans' experiences are NOT just black and white: would they have become what they are without the Devastation, led by unscrupulous Sith like Lord Yn?  Or was the Technocracy already heading towards that mindset?  Regardless, the story arc that has led/is leading them towards their future is fascinating, easily amongst your best, LSG  :)

Keison's death also is a turning point here, and not just for the Aethans but the Sons.  Of course, this becomes an excellent catalyst for the "modern" group that we see in "The Gray&the Unchained" and one of the reasons why they operate the way that they do.

Once again, we see the Extolled fighting/serving next to their Avatars.  But SOMETHING must be in the works since they aren't around (or at least seen) in our "modern" era.  More here than what we can see, certainly...

Again: I am loving this story arc!  Can't wait to read more (ESPECIALLY with what you've teased us with)!

(https://i.ibb.co/rbNTFGT/Aert-Under.png) (https://ibb.co/6vLVrRV)
OMG!!!

What an AWESOME rendering of an Aethan Star Destoyer!!!  I know that FT does INCREDIBLE work and this just shows it!!!  ABSOLUTELY PHENOMENAL  ;D

Thanks! I owe a lot to the feedback and support from the other writers on here, especially the Dutchman and Karmack, for improving since I started.
I completely agree with this!  I KNOW that my own writing has improved thanks to the constructive criticism and support of Karmack and LSG; indeed ALL of the feedback that we receive is appreciated as it really helps us, both for improvement and, admittedly, intrinsically rewarding  :)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 06, 2020, 06:24:01 AM
Chapter 10 — Blaze of Memory — Part 1

Then
He didn’t like it here.

Everything was smelly and ugly.  He wanted mommy and daddy. But he couldn’t see or feel them.

Everything was hard and cold, even more scary than when the booms had gone off.  He didn’t like the booms, and the lights, they hurt his ears and eyes, Daddy had run out with his axe, mommy...

There were big booms and he woke up here.  A big ugly thing walked past the big window he was behind, across was old Scintaea, she looked hurt. 

He remembered going to see Scintaea’s house once when he had a cough, her house smelled funny and had lots of dry leaves, and he had to drink a yucky drink, but he didn’t cough so much after that.

He couldn’t see the sky or the sun here…he didn’t know what time it was…he had to go home to feed Bomo…

He missed Bomo…but Bomo wouldn’t like it here…Bomo was his friend, he was a gormin and furry, he had been born at the end of winter, he got to help wash his fur.

Daddy had said he was old enough to look after a Gormin so he had to feed and water Bomo every morning and every night.  He had left a lot of food for Bomo when they went to the big village…but he might’ve been hungry and eaten it all by now.

There were more loud noises, it was like a Vorynx growling…Vorynx were scary…maybe they had a big one.

<<<<>>>>

A big ugly green thing opened the window and pulled him out, it hurt his shoulder.  He had fallen asleep and his leg hurt because it was too tight to lie down.

He saw other people getting pushed around by more big ugly things.

“Take my hand Taryn,” Scintaea said reaching down.  He took it, her hand was hard and rough.

They walked through a big place to outside, the sky looked funny, all the people they pushed into a big group, it was very strange, it looked like the place here was made of mountain stones, big ugly things were all around them.  Everyone felt sad.

They were made to line up, a funny looking thing waved a magic box over them one by one saying things he couldn’t really understand

“Dish Wun, Fwawty Yars Uld, Ferty Fowsand.”

“Dish Wun, Feefty Yars Uld, Tweentee Farv Fowsand”

Scintaea understood now…they were being sold…only the elderly, the mothers and the youngest children had been on the flying machines she had been on…No doubt the teens and young adults had been taken elsewhere…she had no illusions they would fare better…

She glanced over to the other older women and one Old Man from the coast village left.  There was little choice…the Guardians were gone, they were in a strange land beyond their ability to ever return…surrounded by creatures she had no name for. 

“Dish Wun…” the grotty creased faced creature drooled infront of her,

“Seexty Yars Uld…Feefteen Fowsand,”

She closed her eyes and felt the assent of the others around her…they would not be caged…

It was time.

The brown ugly things head exploded, he rolled into a ball as bits of sticky black goo dropped over him.

Taryn held his hands against his ears as loud noises started, and closed his eyes as bright colourful lights went all over everywhere.

He started to cry…they were hurting,…everyone was hurting and vanishing, where were they going?…He didn’t understand – he wanted mommy and daddy!

“Fracking DREN!” yelled captain Xega as the last shots died down and the smoke rose off the dead, his first mate lying dead at his feet, his neck broken by invisible hands.

“You Kriff licking idiots don’t know how to use stun! That’s 300 K out the air lock!”  he scanned over the row of blackened corpses…he’d already lost a third of his men on the forsaken world they’d picked these forcelings up from, now he’d lost six more.

He’d barely break even on this now.

“egh…that was…unpleasant…” the snivelling Lyr poked out from behind the landing gear,

“Shut your Hutt licking hole!” the Vordan captain replied

He surveyed what was left of the shipment idly scratching the longest of his chin horns. One of the old ones was coughing up blood, another had taken a bolt straight through the bicep…might be able to fix those…apart from that one of the mother ones was balled up around her infant, and a few of the little ones were wailing on the ground…but only half.

He strode over to the limp form of one of the smaller products…

“Dren…”  they had killed their own rather than be sold…they fetched at least a hundred thousand each…he couldn’t bet on the insurance he had with Myzm covering this….he had his debt to consider – barely paid off his own freedom…from Myzm…and was deep into it with the loan he’d taken for his ship…from Myzm…he might be a free Vordan legally, but the bonds of debt kept him chained…this should’ve been the break he needed.

His monochromatic eyes scanned the remnants, one of the small products wasn’t whimpering, it was shaking an old woman’s corpse,

“Scinta…Scin…” it garbled.  He reached down and grasped its shoulder effortlessly lifting it up,

“I’m Keeping this one for me self” he yelled over to Lyr, the deal had been Myzm had first right to purchase all the product at usually below market values “Guaranteed credits rather than risking a loss at auction” Lyr sold it as –

Frell the fat slug, he could make a decent amount off this one at a private auction, he tossed the little squealing product back up the ramp.

<<<<>>>>

Now
(https://i.ibb.co/VTgT59h/Taryn-21-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/VTgT59h)
Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time
The music played through the head phones as he switched his boots mag locks off…
I feel alive…. And the world I'll turn it inside out
A knee powered flip into a void streaked by yellow and red lights bolts of pure energy traded between the ships, orange blooms died as oxygen was cut by bulk heads, ruby and obsidian tears of blood floated from blue and grey lifeless corpses in the silver wreckage.
And floating around in ecstasy
It was almost a sense of peace to be alone and floating like this…

But peace was boring.

So don't stop me now, don't stop me…'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time….

Grenade launcher in one hand, disintegrator blaster in the other Blaze hit the thrusters and pulled at the Flow to send himself shooting ahead.

I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky like a tiger

A Starchasher streaked past buffeting him with backwash carried by the expelled nitrogen field, the Flow let him twist from fragments of a Z-75 Headhunter blasted apart on its way through, heated wreak melting frozen globules of water from a busted tank.

Defying the laws of gravity

He spun like a top toward the Chandrillan Star Liner firing off his grenade launcher – weaving the explosive through the quagmire of wreckage against the pull of the Ki’tani’s gravity well that had dragged the Liner out of Hyperspace

I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Gdyva

The grenade smashed into the unshielded doonium blasting another hole in the hull, barely slowing he flipped round to slam his boots down inside an access corridor, in one swift motion he reloaded and fired another round into the blast door shattering it inward – then it below out with an explosive decompression as he spun through the shrapnel.

I'm gonna go go go…There's no stopping me

He was IN, ditching the launcher he pounded forward flicking out his tremor sword running into the durasteel of the corridor just to see the sparks fly.

I'm burnin' through the sky two hundred degrees

The doors were sealing ahead…no matter…he flicked his hand up and Blazed – a stream of blue white flame poured onto the metal searing it into a white hot mess that turned yellow then orange as it sloughed to the floor as he jumped through the heat.

That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit

A burst of speed and he was into one of the multi storied concourses, a few security guards stunned at his arrival.

I'm traveling at the speed of light

Three shots, three kills, heads turned to ash from the disruptor as he leapt off the balcony down three stories to the fountain at the centre of the Luxury Cruise liners shopping mall.  Crisp clean illuminated metal brand logo’s hung above grated doors due to the lock down,

<Pirate Scum>

The Flow called

“Pirate SCUM!” the guard said in the real world, Blaze spun round into a crouch to avoid the stun-baton his disintegrator straight into the body armour.

He pulled the trigger – the blaster sending him flying up and away

I wanna make a supersonic man out of you…Don't stop me now

“Section secure boys!” he stalked toward the Cartyr Jeweller store, ripping the pathetic grate open with the Flow. The cases were full of luxury jewellery the patsies hadn’t had time to put away.

Smashing one case open he grabbed a handful and stuffed it under his chest plate, the armour all red accented with black flames – he figured he deserved an extra cut.

I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball

Something tickled his nose…flicking out his hand he tore the door off the staff room and strode in, the two women cowering inside beside the ‘safe’.

“Don't stop me now baby,”
<<<<>>>>

Lyaea
(https://i.ibb.co/9GfywCv/Lyaea-R1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/9GfywCv)
Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet


She shifted out of her bunk and onto the cold floor, her ODSC suit right in her face in the cramped cabin aboard the Chiss Destroyer.

Barely able to stand without hitting something she shook off the echoes of her invariably erotic dreams as bet she could….

Dreams were all they were.

(Take a look at yourself) Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry)

The refresher was 90 degrees to the bed, her hair a bit messy but her features the same alabaster white, smooth as syth-silk skin…the same as her mother, Kiraea, Adaea, only slightly at variance in the nose and distance between eyes to Milaea and Kassyndra.

They’d called her beautiful all the time on Commenor, petty outsiders trying to attract her affections…

But even then she had known they were of no value to her, she needed a real man…

Lord, what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!


A pang of jealousy filled her as she checked her i-holo messages, Adaea sending a pict of her and Lydan having a picnic, the Gormin the background...

It wasn’t that they were on Aethas relaxing and she was here fighting for the Chiss that made her jealous…

It was knowing what her adoptive and sister and brother would be doing on that nice warm rug in the cool of the evening.

Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody)

There was just no suitable mate for her…

“All my beauty going to waste…” she woefully noted as she suited up…
Perhaps she would find some relief in slaughtering the Ebruchii pirates that were harassing the Chiss colonies…

Still the track on her i-holo played on.

Can anybody find me somebody to love?

<<<<>>>>

Melron
(https://i.ibb.co/DVpLWHV/Melron-R4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/DVpLWHV)
Yellow clouds rushed past his vision as he fell.  He’d hit terminal velocity, the counter on the HUD running down to when he should activate the proton jets to brake.

He ignored it as it flashed red indicating death was imminent.  The Orbital Drop shock suit was designed for Chiss safety, not People. 

The aether buoyed him in a protective bubble as his momentum slammed into the top of the building, a dozen shattered floors rushed past him, smashing through the upper floors of the command post.

Detritus fell as dust rose round Ultradense Blackstone Mark 1 armour registering only a series of minor scrapes – small price to pay for having infiltrated the enemy’s last bastion.

The Ebruchi were hardly the People’s enemies, but they were annoying the Chiss with their pirate raids – the CEDF was capable but not invincible, and their advanced technology and rich minerals were too tempting a target for the Ebruchi to pass up. 

He stopped at sub-basement three, littered around the dent in the floor the remnant of a Tarro working with the ever so accommodating Ebruchi pirates who seemed to accept anyone willing to join their pirate crews as a fellow Ebruchi. 

Such lax acceptance of outsiders was foreign to Melron, even accepting the unusual case of Sofa and in a way Milaea…People were People.

Rising up he sensed around…56 alive on this and the floor below – the aether tense, emotions firm and steady –this confirmed what their battle meld had sensed – this was the main base of operations.

<Found it> he thought back to Jarys
<Re-enforcement>
<Not necessary, 2 minutes, implement Chokehold>
<Confirmed>

Like lighting he burst forward, the aether a living ring about him shattering internal walls as he headed to the largest group of life forms. 
They staggered as the plasteel wall shattered. 
They died as their bones came apart under his fists.

He pulled his rifle and turned to fire three precise shots into others at the far end of the floor, now the barriers were removed it was like a vast ‘stadium’ if he recalled the word correctly…a place he could practice his aim.

Ebruchi leapt below ruined servers, consols, generators and lockers as he blew their creamy white tentacle faces apart, interspersing his fire with telekinetic grips that liquefied Morseerian, Tarro and Eickarie bodies beneath their armour.

The panic rose below him…he needed it to peak.  He felt out the weakest minds even as he stormed ahead kneeing a crouching Tarro in the face. 

Two…three…he launched his murderous intentions into their minds overwhelming their consciousness with the aether.  In an instant the Ebruchi comms officer, strategist and engineer turned into murderous savages attacking their own.

Now he felt the conviction of the leader break…only for a moment…but a moment was all it took. 

Melron leapt up and slammed through the final floor into subbasement 2, shikkars flying down the corridor seeking the heat signals his senses told were living beings.

He didn’t bother with doors, genetically enhanced strength bashed down the walls to the command room.  This was an operation the Chiss could’ve accomplished on their own – but not without significant losses of key personnel – and a statement needed to be made to these pirates.

He cleared the rubble, green bolts poured over him.  With a thought aetheric lighting followed their paths back to the blasters overloading power cells into a dozen explosions that destroyed hands and shoulders along with the weapons.

The lighting reformed into a shield as he stalked forward idly flash burning those he didn’t need alive.

The building rumbled as ‘Chokehold’ was implemented.  Across the grimy green mesa Valens, Jarys and Lyaea were embedded in Chiss strike teams preventing the pirates escape, while Selaena and Maeson in their Vorynx fighters supported the Chiss Claw craft to deal with the ones who had run at the first sign of trouble.

A burly Tarro rushed him, its seven fingered hands eagerly flicking the vibro staff alight yellow with energy.  If it thought it could face an Aethan Gaurdian in melee combat and succeed…it was dead wrong.  Melron side stepped its first slash, spun into an elbow mashing its face to bone and gristle as the Pirate War Chief opened fire, its facial tentacles splayed and dripping with rage. 

A hidden Eickarie fired green bolts, Melron took the energy of the blasts in, turned it to his will and fired it back out at a as aetheric fire even as he closed with the war chief.

Faster than the Ebruchi could see Melron broke its limbs.

The squelching creature cried out in pain and defiance.

“Your resistance is irrelevant…” Melron knelt beside it scanning the last few survivors – finding respiratory systems and closing them with the aether.

“You’re going to go back to your pirate kin…and you’re going to tell them what happened here…and you’re going to warn them…if they attack the CEDF again…this will happen…again and again…”

<…And again…> the broken creature agreed.

<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 06, 2020, 06:24:53 AM
Chapter 10 — Blaze of Memory — Part 2

Melron

“32 ships captured, 18 destroyed, 589 pirate casualties, 43 CEDF…” Admiral Ithhawa’Tran’Nuuso paused

“Zero allied…”

He flicked to the next debriefing slide

“War Chief Zmmar has been dispatched carrying tidings of his defeat and a warning to the others….

<Along with a little surprise> Lyaea half smiled behind her helmet

Melron had added other instructions – notably transmitting as much of the Ebruchi’s star maps of the Unknown Regions as possible, and then commencing a civil war amongst the pirates – fourth and fifth level cognisant aetheric manipulation the Chiss were not aware of.

“Operation Chokehold has been a moderate success.”

Melron nodded, it could’ve been better had they given the People complete command – but despite Aethan inherent superiority the Chiss remained cautious about turning over full control. 

Melron could respect the desire to retain control…he would never allow the Chiss to command People, he should not expect People to command Chiss strategy.

“My thanks to our venerable allies in this matter,”

Lyaea stood to give a curt salute of sorts, as part of future proofing the People they took turns commanding missions and dealing with their allies.

“We are proud to assist you in this and any other matters that you might wish to include us on.” She added without much enthusiasm

Despite, or perhaps because of her ‘naughtiness’, Lyaea had done well against Xithar and on the Demagol and managed the Extolled very well.  She was developing into a competent leader, she still had girlish quirks and as the youngest was in fact permitted to be ‘naughty’ in the tradition of Erisaea Daughter of the Goddesses…

But recently…he could sense her disquiet, frustrations growing over the months since the weddings.  She was more lax and irritable than usual…she was of an age, where – traditionally – she would have been married and have her first children on the way – her energies focused and her natural instincts to mate, reproduce, and care for her own children fulfilled.

With their limited population that was not possible. A few years and Milaea would the same…a significant problem to have the two women with the most matriarchal potential so personally unfulfilled.

The Admiral offered a swift efficient salute, Officially they were now Lieutenants in the CEDF, all of them having easily passed the accelerated officer training at the Chiss academies, years of study for a normal Chiss accomplished in weeks by People. 

Melron still recalled the first sparring session he had with a Chiss – the poor instructor broke his wrist punching Melron’s chest – after that it was determined they could only be tested against droids – all of which ended up ruined after half an hour. Still the Chiss had much to teach them about discipline, group tactics, logistics and administration that was valuable.

Lyaea saluted in turn to end the briefing,

“With your permission Admiral we will return to our system unless you have another task requiring our skills,”

Tran’Nuuso so shook his head
“That will be all for now Lieutenant, we can handle the clean-up, you are dismissed,”

Formalities done the Admiral cautiously exiting with his aides leaving them Old Man and young woman alone.

<Lets get the Frell outta here> Lyaea demanded.

<<<<>>>>

Then

Taryn was sure they were going to eat him, through him in one of the huge pots that bubbled by his cage as a huge ugly troll thing boomed about

He’d never get to see Bomo again, or his favourite tree that had the Goddesses carved in them that made it easy to climb on…or his mum or dad…where were they!  He pushed out with the Aeffa but was alone, it was all black.

It was wet here, in the air, he’d never felt anything like it, and there were all kinds of monsters around him that smelled ugly, big ones and little one.

“Hey lets ‘ave some sport,” Bjen called out reaching behind the bench in what could only imaginatively be called a kitchen as the vermin bubbled away in the pots.  He grabbed up on of the runts of the Ki’tani

Every time they came into port they’d pick up a few more runts to replace the ones that died - stray children from Soccorro and Nar Shadda for whom anything was better than the streets - even the dangerous work of manually loading cannons, maintaining gears and patching up circuits in the ducts too large for an adult to get into. 

But dying from radiation leaks and electrical overloads was a far more merciful way to go than being used for the Pirate Crews entertainment.

Bjen, a Yaka the Captain Xega openly admitted was a few connections short of a circuit hurled the little rodian into a rapidly forming ring of hot bodies pressed into the few more or less hospitable areas of the ship.

From somewhere a knife too large for the child was thrown before him,

“Right get another runt….” Already knowing were this was heading the runts had rapidly scurried back into dark corners or behind vast muscled legs…all except Taryn who remained in his cage.  With a creaking cybernetic hand Bjen ripped him out.

This one’ll do. The kid Xega had put in the cage was unusually heavy and sobbing as Bjen tossed him to the grimy oil and piss slick floor.

Bjen flicked out a credit chit,

“This to the winner” he grinned at the Rodian child who quickly snatched up the rusted knife that even with both hands he could barely hold.

Taryn didn’t know what was happening, only felt suddenly cold despite how hot it was here as the Aeffa burst in the back of his head.

The queer mermaid thing charged at him, without knowing how Taryn’s feet pushed to the side to get out of its way.  The rodian child quickly spun round, lean hungry limbs powering him forward.  Raising the knife over his head to the point of near tipping over he swung down at the little pink boy.

Taryn closed his eyes and shielding his face convinced they were now chopping him up to be eaten like a Gopin.

Bjen looked on with more interest as the rusted knife his the little humans crossed arms – the knife wasn’t the best…but even so it should’ve cut the skin…

The Rodian hacked away desperate for the credit chit to buy a little extra from the Cook as Taryn rolled around in a ball to raucous laughter from all around.

Bjen had been on the raid in the deep core, knew these meta humans took a lot of stun shots to bring down, and the adults had killed themselves and their children rather than be taken…but till now he hadn’t realised just how unusual they were…the knife- even accounting for how rusty it was - could only make a few odd scratches against the pink skin as the boy howled terrified.

“Finish ‘im!” someone yelled tossing in a lit vibro knife, the Rodian child quickly threw the rusted blade aside and grabbed it running back to Taryn to finish him off.

“What do you think yer doing!” Captain Xega yelled his scales itching in the humidity, that little meta-human was for private sale, he’d told the Cook to keep him fed, last thing he needed was damaged product…looking around he saw Cook passed out dribbling moonshine from his three mouths again as the crew clapped on as a rodian runt attacked the product.

The cold biting in Taryns head distracted him from the red hurting of the boo-boos he’d gotten…the mermaid things ran at him again with a magical blue knife….

Everything seemed to stop.

The Aeffa cold turned hot in his mind, his arms slowly fell away from shielding his head as his hands got very warm.

Xega stopped dead and Bjen’s mouth dropped as the Rodian runt exploded into a ball of blue flame – its snout and eyes exploding out charred pieces of flesh as it dropped.

The human child was a blaze with the same blue glow, but wasn’t consumed by it.

An instant later the product flopped unconscious on the floor.

Any anger Xega had about his product being damaged in a runt fight was washed away as he considered the turn of events – he had intended to sell it…but now…there might be a more profitable way to utilize the little Blazing child.

<<<<>>>

Now
“Here is how it works,” Blaze called out across the assembly of well to do types presses into what had been a central plaza with a nice fountain till his crew wrecked it.

“You all belong to me now…” he strode along the top of what had been a caf cart, each footstep eliciting a moan from a…actually he wasn’t sure what species that was – under the wheel of the cart who had tried to resist.

“But I’m a nice boss ain’t that right Doon?” he went on patting the over sized Yinchorri on the head

“Dat right,” Doon still had a smirk from putting the cart on top of the trader – small things amusing small minds Blaze figured.

“See from the Yinchi’s mouth and you know they’re too dumb to lie…so here’ is the deal…” he gestured toward his least untrustworthy goons holding portable E-Funds transfer devices, blocky but sturdy things equipped with ocular scanners.

“A hundred thousand a piece and your free,” he smiled across the overfed gaudily dressed rich tralks and tossers

A number of puddles dropped in the Flow – some afraid of having to part with their precious credits, others – mostly the Star Liners staff - that they couldn’t pay at all.

“You can’t pay - then you work off your debt…” he offered a snide smirk at that line the humour lost on anyone but him as he noted the glint at the far side of the room.

He leapt down straight onto the caf traders head splotching out blue goop and eliciting numerous disgusted cries as he approached an old Togruta sheltering his two much younger women, pushing past the old loser he gripped the females montrails in what for him was gentle but he knew was painful for these lesser creatures.

“…its hard work…” he whispered grabbing one of the women’s hands and pushing it onto his crotch

“So I suggest you pay!” he had no intention of taking slaves – too much hassle, they got sick, bitched, you had to feed them – simple extortion was so much easier.

He pushed past as the glint he had seen got even closer. A more brash Bothan mouth opened to speak in that slow way the losers all did…Blaze cut him off

“And in case anyone thinks they can get out of paying by force or persuasion.”

The light hit his eyes, he twisted to the side then the sound of the blaster shot reached his ears – the red bolt searing into the Bothan’s head. 

In a smooth continuation of his dodge Blaze spun into a reverse crouch and hurled a torrent of flame into the would be hero who had been lurking in the shadows waiting for a chance to strike.

“Let that be a lesson to you.”

<<<<>>>>

 
Then

“FASTAAAHH” Vorg yelled as he hauled the power cells behind him, legs cramping after hours and hours of treading the sharp grated floors of the Ki’tani’s weapons decks.

With a grunt he let go of his burden grabbed the red hot cell on the wall and twisted the latch to eject it. 

His hands were black with burnt skin covering up the innumerable minor scrapes and wounds.

In a rapid single motion he slammed in then relocked a new power cell so the turbo laser could keep firing.  Then repeated the process on the next one.

The Ki’tani shuddered as it took more hits form somewhere…the Flow gave him a general idea of where the attack was coming from but he didn’t know exactly.  He hated it, he wanted to see who they were fighting instead of being down here on the decks. 

Occasionally he’d sneak up to the bridge using a passage through the ducts and access ways Gnma had taught him…before he broke Gnma’s neck fighting over half a nerf steak.

“Get more Blaze!” Vorg yelled from the control dais in the middle of the huge corridor of batteries, other runts running to and fro just like him…no not like him…none of them could move two cells at once, none of them could run as fast or work for as long as him, that was why he was Bjen’s favourite…and why he let him fight in the pits when they visited Nar Shadda.

He won lots of credits there for Xega and got extra rations in return…for a few days at least.

He turned back and pounded toward the storage room…he’d done this so many times he knew every chink of metal, every patch of discoloured paint, the rhythm of the flickering wires and hissing gas pipes so precisely he could avoid them every time.

Blaze couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a sky…come to think of it he might never have…even on Socorro it was a pall of red pollution. Sometimes he dreamed about a place, green and blue…he didn’t remember ever being there, must’ve just been something he saw on the holo-tube in between Djogers XXX holo-vids that he’d sneak in with Yrma to watch.

One night Yrma got caught by Djoger…Yrma came back a few days after but couldn’t walk or talk right anymore, then he died.  That was the way it was with runts, Blaze quickly made sure to take his clothes and shoes to trade to the new runts that always came.

Spinning into the room he nearly banged his head on the door – he was getting taller…soon he would be too big to be a runt…then he would be with the crew…if they didn’t just haze him to death first, that happened to Fjoko who had always been there like Blaze…but when she got too old…Knodun told her to come up and start sleeping in the main dorms…then one day she vanished too, Knodun was shot in a raid a few weeks later.  When Blaze stripped his body he found Fjoko’s ear in his pocket with a few others on a string.

Gripping three cells he hefted them up his arms taught with strength – no one would do that to him…even little as he was when he got really angry…the Flow overcame him and nothing could stop him then – he’d done it time and again in the pits against other planet side runts…they’d get a few cuts in then he’d get set alight by the Flow and bash and burn them to death.

Trudging back the wall exploded inward ahead of him.

Three runts flew into pieces cut by the explosion of durasteels as a breaching tube ground its way inside.

The Ki’tani buckled and warped as he grabbed onto the ledge, if the atmo was lost he’d have only a few seconds to get to the nearest hatch. 

The breaching tube burst open spewing forth grimy yellow armoured Trandoshans as he climbed up, Vorg behind the consoles firing off his pistols. 

The breach hissed air as the first wave secured positions behind floating crates and spent power converters as gravity fluctuated.  Blaze clambered toward the hatch up ahead as one of the hissing cuts in the hull was filled temporarily but the body of another runt, three Trandoshans in Orange rather than yellow carrying a sealed metal boxed floating out.

Once more he felt the Flow chill him inside – it always happened just before something dangerous or exciting – usually both…His hand gripped the hatch wheel…but what difference would it make being on the other side if the Ki’tani was destroyed – there were no escape pods as no one in their right mind would want to get picked up by the winners after a battle between pirates.

Clenching his fist rather than gripping the hatch handle he spun around the Flow boosting his speed as the Trandoshan scratched in their growling tongue through the ever thinner air.

It didn’t bother him – metahuman Bjen called him – what he was no one knew and frankly didn’t care.  Only that he could do…THIS!

Hands opening out the chill of the Flow turned hot in an instance seeking out the blotches of the Flow that were the Trandoshans, one managed to spy him but it was too late – the incandescent blue fire struck him full on melting his vac suit and cooking him within as its snout contorted in a death stifled scream.

The others spun round and fired – their bolts were blinding blobs in the Flow, but he could just manage to smear them a bit – a few still hit him, but instead of tight hard bullets they were like flabby dead rodents against his grotty skin.

The blue blaze he was named for chained across the Trandoshans, following the Flow between them as if they were all points on a circuit till the whole group was left a bubbling mess as the explosive sucking of the air into the void died.

<<<<>>>>

He was trembling, he always did after using the Flow like that…or rather it using him…he couldn’t do it whenever he wanted only when he felt the cold panic…but that was enough to survive and all that mattered.

Crouched at the back of the runts on the main deck Xega smashed his power fist into the Trandoshan captains face, leaving a trail of sharpened teeth on the hazard striped floor. At the far end Bjen directed the forklifts to move the boxes full of furry tall creatures into cargo straps – Blaze noted the fur was the same as those some of the dead Trandoshans wore – like Knodun with his ears everyone took a prize.

“Blaze come over ‘ere” Xega called out as the Trandoshan hissed.

Flanked by Bjen and Voga Xega looked commanding in his black armour.

“Yessir…” he stammered still shaking

“Voga say you nuked a bunch of breacher’s before they could set charges…” he reached out and muffled his hair

“And you’re getting too big for the runts…”

Xega took out his Vibro blade flipped it and proffered the handle.

“Kill this loser and join the Crew!”

His heart churned quicker as the Trandoshan looked up at him glassy eyes full of spite to be killed by a mere runt.

He could be part of the real crew…not have to fight – well not fight as hard – for food anymore – maybe go into the bars when they were in dock instead of just hanging outside…finally get to be in the action instead of underneath it all.

He didn’t take the knife. 

With a rapid motion he slammed his fist into the Trandoshans leathery head, kicked him over then drove his knee into its chest. 

Gripping the head in both hands he twisted it off, deciding he would collect its main incisor tooth as a trophy.

<<<<>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 06, 2020, 06:28:55 AM
 
Chapter 10 — Blaze of Memory — Part 3

Blaze

“You’ve got 3 minutes then we’re leaving without you!” He called out across the plaza as the last losers coughed up their credits.  He already knew how much it would net him…after repairs, paying for the crew, consumables and of course Ozryms cut…not that much all things considered. 

The Kyala was a decent ship but she guzzled coaxium like crazy – it had once belonged to Captain Xega who had called it the Ki’Tani some retard name Blaze never cared to learn the meaning of.  He recalled the last time he’d seen Xega…lying on the floor an axe in his head.

“Good job Blaze…” Xega had slapped him on the back after Blaze had lead the boarding and carbonised half the Gammorreans

“A few more jobs like this your debt will be paid in no time,”

My debt… Blaze had thought

For what feeding me shellty scraps, sleeping next to a damn humidifier in the arse end of the ship, I get the tip on this shipment of Spice, I risked my neck smashing up those nikto’s to get the tracking beacon, and then I fight the battles for you and I have the debt!!!

A tension he had been carrying for too long release and Blaze had taken his boot off the Gammoreans neck as the ash that had once been flesh settled through the flash blackened corridor of the ship, in the hold below three tonnes of spice fresh from Kessel…a fortune for Xega to pay off his debts to the Hutts.

“Hey Cap,” he called out boot kicking the half cooked gammoreans scorched axe.

Xega had turned round

“Catch,”

A single motion kicked up the axe with his left foot then booted it straight as a spear with his right – the half melted blade still hot from the Flow fire searing Xega’s head apart.

The image still made him smile, the shock on the others faces as Xega flopped over – the annoyance that they hadn’t been the ones to do it – he’d had to cull half the senior crew afterwards to establish his place…

That was a night to remember, as soon as the spice was loaded they’d turned on him – only the Flow and his speed had let him win, beating former first mate Vorg into a bloody mess, slamming his face into durasteel till the flesh was tenderised.

“Boss here’s the taking,” Bjen interrupted– the tough as doonium Yaka a few conduits short of a circuit handed him the beaten datapad summarising what he already knew.  Bjen had been ‘good’ to him, taught him things, probably cause he saw Blaze potential and wanted to exploit it – for now Blaze used him as a First mate…for now.

“Just what I thought,” he pushed off the table he’d been perched upon watching the nerfs pay their dues.

“Let’s move…” for the mere sake of showmanship he fired three blasts into the ceiling sending the nerfs cowering, doubling the speed at which the last few paid up.

Striding away his goons followed a predictable pattern of covering the exit, with the usual suspects taking their time enjoying a few of the captives. 

Tchek in the corner blaster rifle slung across his back as he toyed with himself holding a pamphlet.

“Give a rest you demented freak,” Blaze snapped, snatching the pamphlet

“What the hell are you fapping off to this time, a bloody menu?,”  most of the goons had their weirdness, Tchek’s was playing with himself every chance he got, never touched a real nerf or whore though ‘doesn’t want to catch anything’. Yeah right Blaze thought, probably so used to his own touch no one else’s would work.

“Hey I was looking at dat!”

“Yeah well now I’m looking at…whoa…” as Blazes eyes glanced at it he stopped in his tracks

“Hello Lovely…”

The Pamphlet showed a series of erotically posed statues, rendered double life size of various women – who knew Tchek did have some taste, or perhaps lucked out –

But one in particular caught his eye, flaming red hair a playful look in her carved eyes.

“…What is this…” he flipped it over to read the actual words

“Arts of….”

Aephordaea something stopped him saying the word, something he couldn’t explain.

For a brief moment something deep and cold within him reared up like vomit till his flaming hate set it back down violently.

He scrunched up the pamphlet and tossed it away as if it were a thermal detonator about to blow

“Get your pants on and arse moving.” He recovered with a bitching snipe.

<<<<>>>>

 
Melron

The Black Obelisk stood towering above exuding oddly silent sound. 

He picked up the recording orb checking for any signals while working with the Chiss…everyone was so busy now, either meting Chiss demands, working the farms, investigating other leads or making sure the Arts of Aephrodaea Exhibition was being properly promoted across the galaxy.

The Recording Orb had a ‘full’ feeling to it, usually Blackstone ached to consume aetheric energy from you, this bloated one wished to ‘expel’ the excess.

He allowed it to flow over him, a strange sensation a sif his mind were adrift in the void seeking any bright spark of presence, all too many of the bright lights turning out to be mirages or shadows of past and future blips. 

It was an imperfect method…but they were slowly improving it.

Days of aetheric recording streamed over him, half realized blips of focus, scattered threads of meaning too loose to fix upon…the tragedy of this was not lost on him…any one of those could be a Person in distress too weak to signal any louder…

The burden of that limitation weighed heavily on Melron…he had done all he could to get back up to speed…but he couldn’t help but curse himself for not doing it sooner, for giving into his depression at the Devastation…if he had started earlier would they be stronger, would they have more Obelisks ready sooner to get a more precise reading?

He could only do what he could do…

Distracted he nearly missed the splotchy but bright blue flare in the peripheral of his mind…just strong enough to stand above the other half living lights…disturbed, confused, lost…

He focused…drew forth the thread.  Moving his body he approached the control dais the Recording orb hovering before him, setting it in the empty cradle he grasped two orbs beside it, channelling the aether back into the vast device and though the Obelisks tertiary channels.

It was a finicky thing at best, like trying to catch Kreekles with soapy hands in the mud, his teeth grit as he pushed to keep the light in the centre of his mind and draw on the Obelisk Enchantments to feel it out more thoroughly…yes this was their…Song, their signature trace in the Aether! 

It was a Person!  But where…

The Observatory Aetheric Map of the Galaxy couldn’t give a precise location…just a vague sense of direction and distance…but that was often enough to start with, cross reference it to hyperspace lanes and populated planets and they usually had only two or three sectors to search.

He grasped the threads together more tightly…he would not let this Person remain lost and alone any longer.

<<<<>>>>

 
Lyaea
Like

Like

Shocked

Tongue out

Hmmm….

What emoji to put in response to this post of a bunch of university sophomores dancing like drunk kaadu…

She scrolled through the 12,425 options bored as the whirlpool of stars twisted around her on the view screens.

Maybe Wookie Dancing.

Flicking the emoji response to a comment on her own Whacked Galaxy Page she tossed the mini-pad across the floor of the Aethenaea’s empty bridge.

Everyone else was off doing something exciting except her it seemed.  Most of the others were chasing a lead in Hutt space from a far stronger signal, Jarys and Milaea working on mining another Obelisk with Extolled dovin basals.

A brief moment of jealous scrunched her perfect nose usually Lyaea dealt with the Extolled as their Goddess Yun’shuno…

Instead she was stuck with old Melron heading into a ‘region’ of space near where he had sensed a’ ‘faint reflex signal’ from what ‘could be a lost Person’.

It was a wild Gopin chase…she could be doing something so much more interesting…

As much as she liked being back on Aethas sometimes she missed Commenor…when it was just her Adaea and Kiraea…going to shopping malls, using the aether to prank aliens.  Everything seemed too serious now…Everyone else was having all the fun…

Irritated she stood up and quickly checked all the systems were nominal, perhaps a walk on the Nature deck would help he feeless frustrated and jealous.

She doubted it.

Levels 6 and 7, just below the Spear tip shaped Destroyers midline were combined to create a large open area where they had created a garden, full of plants, animals and insects dissuaded from venturing away by aetheric suppressants in the walls, and generally disinclined to go too near artificial floors at any rate.

It provided natural air filtration and oxygen cycling, food and water purification, but most importantly it kept them connected to their world even when away. 

Through the empty corridors and hollow alcoves –they simply hadn’t time to make and put up paintings, tapestries and statues yet – she felt the cold of loneliness wrap around her.

Melron was there yes…she could talk to her mother, brother or adoptive sisters at any time with the link orbs on her belt…but…

Even when she was with them she felt slightly hollow, especially since the wedding.

They had always done everything together, Lyaea, Kiraea and Adaea, when it was just the three of them, gone to school, university, learned to drive, teased Maynard, set buildings on fire, took speeders for joy rides…

Now Kiraea and Adaea were married, moving into the next phase of life…and she was left behind, after all there was no mate for her at all...

Strolling along the carefully arranged boxes beneath the trees that sheltered her from the artificial light in the roof above she swept up her i-holo while using her superior dexterity to simultaneously kick of her shoes.

She hopped onto the grass twirling in absent half dancing motions hand around the thin trunk of the recently planted Kyala tree as if it were a Twi’Leki Dance Pole,

She was the prettiest, she knew that, she shouldn’t be wasting her time killing pirates and chasing whispers in the aether, she should be living it up somewhere with someone!

Hair loose and flowing she spent her excess energy as best she could in random acrobatics, scattering the few gobrils and gosalam that had been rehoused on the ship in an experiment to see how they would manage – if the nature deck was to thrive properly it required a substantially functional ecosystem.

Stuck on this boring trip with boring old Melron, in boring old space, not even outsiders to kill or manipulate…how was she going to get new content to post on her Holotube channel after all she wasn’t allowed to film herself, or on Aethas or their ships cause of ‘security’?

And just the same boring old toys in her cabins locked chest, same boring chores of programming one of the Obelisk Arrays Signal Filtering orbs….

She fell onto her back on the grass staring at the faux lights above.

Teasing at the hem of her trousers she went down for another Rite to try and convince Aephrodaea to bring her a real man to replace her fingers.

<<<<>>>>

Melron
Blood and black encased him in darkness.

He sat unclothed but for a small cloth in case Lyaea wandered in bored…he made sure there was minimum barrier between himself and the charged walls of the Aetheric Warfare Chamber.

Like the other four destroyers the Aethenaea was equipped with three Aetheric Nexus chambers – vast orbs made of Blood and Black Stone that contained and multiplied an Aethans power connected by Bloodstone ‘wires’ to the Blackstone hull enabling the powers generated here to be projected into space during battle…or for the aetheric waves that criss-crossed space to be drawn in and analysed.

Beside him the Recording Orb with the signal that had lead him to this dead stop in the empty midst of the Kibilini sector, based on his analysis and confirmed by Lyaea it seemed the most likely place the signal had come from.

Ideally Lyaea should be doing this, she was much more attuned to such things…but she seemed, bored, distracted…hyperactive and lethargic in a queer combination of opposites.

He understood all too well, in their traditional way of life she’d have been married by now, her energy given dozens of more natural outlets that could be offered to her. 

Still she had shown so many instances of leadership and was focused when she needed to be…A problem for another time….

He took in the blue sparking…flame he had sensed from the Obelisk array and let it guide his mind as he loosed himself on the winds of the aether…seeking anything similar nearby…he just needed another spark…

If the Person he was seeking could just use the aether then like two magnetic poles the prior signal and the new one would draw a line straight to him across the astral planes, far more accurate now he was, he hoped, physically closer….

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 06, 2020, 06:31:25 AM
Chapter 10 — Blaze of Memory — Part 4
Blaze
(https://i.ibb.co/brdVJ2f/Blaze-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/brdVJ2f)

Slender hands played at the row of yellowed mouldy teeth around his neck.

He should keep some credits aside, but after a fight he always wanted a frell.

The two Nagai women draped on him showed all the signs of undernourishment, arms peppered in tiny red points over throbbing veins where they shot up.

Around the table Bjen, Snnri and the others were wither drinking down the house brews or slurping up their whores mammaries and equivalents.

He looked absently at the half empty death-tubes on the table – like the alcohol it had no effect on him…nothing did…whatever kind of meta human – according to Bjen – he ‘metabolized organic compounds too efficiently’ for the intoxicants to even reach his brain.  Usually a good frell would be enough but even as one of the Nagai sisters suckled him he felt nothing.

“What’s got you burning low?” Bjen asked.

Blaze mouth twitched…ever since he’d seen that pamphlet those words…something…something had gnawed at him…he couldn’t forget that face – it wasn’t just because she was beautiful for a human…it was something more…something…familiar.

“Tralk’s just no good at it,” he waved away the concern slapping the woman off then grasping the other ones hair

“You try,” he pushed her down.

The other showed no displeasure and simply licked at his chest, the necklace brushed upward. 

There were nearly forty teeth on there now…as many as could fit.  He’d thrown away dozens more over the years becoming more selective – only his first and then the ones that really made an impact him he kept…Feeorins, Besalisks, Barabels, even a Gen’Dai…he remembered them all…everything…since the first Rodian runt he set ablaze…

He remembered that moment, he was on the gortty mess floor of the Kyala he was barely tall enough to see over the chairs…Bjen was laughing
“You want to eat, you kill your meat!” they all chanted. 

It was his first memory, that was when they started calling him Blaze…cause he blazed that little runt – and a dozen more after as the pirates made sport of the kids that lived on the ship, setting them to fight each other for scraps, kicking them for fun, having them crawl into the ducts too small for anyone else to do repairs, cart around ammunition in a firefight…

There were always more kids though, every time they came into port more joined – apparently life on a Pirate Destroyer, even at the risk of being starved or killed for fun – was better than life on the streets of Nar Shadda. Course some used the kids for other things too, but never Blaze…ever since they saw he could set himself on fire, no one dared touch him, and Bjen took him under his wing - more or less.

Sometimes he dreamt there was something before that…in deep dreams he saw a verdant world…a furry creature warm beside him rather than the cold press of a whore’s malnourished flesh…a fantasy.

The Nagai’s was no good either, he pushed her off throwing on his jacket – still a few scars…now at any rate – he’d collected as many as the others but they never lasted…he couldn’t even get inked because of his weird metabolism and tough skin – fast healing Bjen said, stage 9 meta human – all Blaze knew was as he grew he was stronger, faster and smarter than anyone – add in the Flow and he’d barely lost a fight – oh he’d taken beatings but he recovered frelling fast.

Pushing through the drug scented air his eyes always alert for anything coming at him from the sides picked up a flash of flesh – not real flesh but an image.

Spinning round he strode up to the pink vape hazed booth where half a dozen gran were ogling a pamphlet just like the one Tchek had had…

Something about them looking at it was…blasphemous as though they were intruding on something sacred and yet he couldn’t rationalise why he felt his way over a pamphlet showing some tits and arses.

“What you want!” one looked up with its middle eye

“Get spaced,”

A cold sweat covered him, all he had to do was walk away, they’d assume him just another drunk pirate on shore leave…but he couldn’t - he needed that damn pamphlet like Tchek needed a damn wash cloth.

Before he knew he had his fist was in the grans face – its eye stalks breaking under his raw strength.

Shocked at what he had done he paused as the bar exploded around him.

Fists, blasters, knives, chairs, tables, glasses, whores all flew through the air, and Blaze as at the centre.  Why it had started no longer mattered, his crew was up in an instant, the Grans as well – no one cared everyone just wanted to fight and frel; - turned out it was fight time.

Ducking under a swinging table, dodging a hold out blast Blaze kicked the table up into the their faces as a glass bottle shattered on his head, rapidly evaporating spirit steaming off his neck and hair.

He spun round to kick the attack in the guts sending them flying backward before turning to face the recovering gran – behind him Bjen and Snnri were bashing some more gran with chairs. 

Hurling the table off themselves all they found was Blaze’s fists and elbows flying into them.  they moved slow, everyone moved slow to Blaze – it was why Xega and Bjen had tossed him into the fighting pits when they visited Nar Shadda – either he won enough to pay his food for another few months, or died. 

Blaze always won

Like he had against a hundred others hard points of elbow and knee to shattered guards, unusually strong fingers pried off facial features – the grans jutting ear flaps, snouts and eye stalks easy prey for such a move that left wobbling stumps dripping fluids as he mounted the one who had the pamphlet and kneed him into the wall over and over, each impact yielding a gurgling crack of bone.

An electric chill went up his back – pain or the thing he felt always – didn’t matter how many times he’d been cut or shot, it never stopped him, never made him yell out – he was aware of it but indifferent to it unless it meant he couldn’t use a part of his body.

He could smell the burn of the synthleather of his jacket as he spun round sweeping up his own pistol and triggering off three fast shots into the bastard who’d shot him in the back.

As an afterthought he grabbed up the pamphlet now stained with blood and liquor before smashing his way into the melee to get out of it – like all bar fights it had now expanded well beyond the original combatants, the whores and bar tenders crawling to their familiar ‘safe’ niches to wait it out as an over head light was rent down and smashed onto a Vordan.

The swirl of kicks and blades filled his mind, this was the Flow in its purest form, rabid vicious and merciless.

By the time he left he could barely remember why he had started the fight at all…

<<<<>>>>

 
Melron
They were too late.

He had sensed the aether use some few hours after his meditative scrying ritual began, cross referenced against the sector star charts they had determined the location was Socorro – a dusty planet about a large red star that stank in the aether of the violent desperation common to smugglers and pirates, a lawless outland well beyond the care of the Republic – not that it had much power in the systems that were members anyway – leaving the planet in the hands of the Hutts and a few factions of the still broken post-Xithar Black Sun.

He cursed under his breath as he knelt over the blood spattered floor of the cantina, feeling the echoes of the aether that had drawn him here. 

The resonances were jittery and raw, the backwash of instinctual use of the aether to survive...but not thrive – effective yes but unrefined by proper training or even just general Aethan child rearing practices.

“It was a male…” Lyaea noted stepping over the unconscious owners – they wanted no distraction so she had cut off the arteries that fed their various brain equivalent organs long enough to put them under.

“About my age…” she sniffed the air, women’s olfactory senses were 14.3 per cent better than male ones, combined with better training in hormone and pheromone analysis as part of the Sacred Rites it enabled her to discern with greater precision the nature of their prey.

“He was wounded superficially…” Melron added in their normal cadence that would be incomprehensible to most beings – he could smell charred hyperkeratin of their skin in the air, but not Aethan blood or fat from lower dermal layers.

“What if we don’t find him in time…” Melron said mostly to himself, ashamed at having missed him.

“He’s survived this long on his own...” Lyaea comforted as she tinkered behind the bar with an outdated gortty green lines screen surrounded by bulbous buttons and nobs

“He can survive a little longer…” her voice trailed off as she scanned through the security footage.

“Here…”

Melron was soon looking at the screen over her shoulder, noting every captured moment of the fight…and before.  Played at 6 time’s regular pace they took in three hours of footage in barely twenty minutes, interrupted only by the snoring of the unconscious pile of bodies on the floor.

As she had deduced the boy – for boy was all he was given the age – could defend himself well enough – no match for Jedi or Vhal’Dan, but certainly could hold them off for a time. 

Against the low grade pirates and bounty hunters that frequented this establishment he was a cyclone of death.

The camera’s solution was too low to get a good view of his features, but there was no mistaking the speed, the dexterity of an Aethan in combat, not matter how crude.

“Soon son,” Melron promised to this lost struggling child,

“Soon.”

<<<<>>>>

 
Blaze
The flabby pile of dren that called itself Ozrym the Hutt lounged about on his divan attended to by fluttering naked Toydarians of all things…gross.

He’d had to wait nearly three hours for the ‘audience’ time enough for all his scars from the bar fight to heal over, now only thin pink traces remained. 

Blaze despised pandering to the Hutt, the pathetic attempts to display power and hierarchy by having him wait. 

But that was the game - You play it or it breaks you.

Past the glimmering guards he recalled the first time he had come here, dumping Xega and Vorgs heads on the floor as a sign he was now captain of the ship and all challengers were dead, Ozrym had gurgled and acquiesced to the change in leadership and Permitted him to ‘buy’ Xega’s ship and rename it, leaving with a debt to Ozrym.

He despised the fact, every day he dreamed of blasting the Hutt to chunks…the only thing that kept him in check was the knowledge that if he did he’d end up with every Bounty Hunter this side of Nar Shadda on his arse.

“Get your money you fat slug,” Blaze snapped by way of opening

Ozrym either ignored the insult or took it as a compliment, Hutts seemed to consider obesity a sign of status and dominance after all.

<I did receive my share…> Ozrym groaned in Huttese referring to the takings from the Star Liner

<Seems less lucrative than last time…>
“Well the nerfs are getting wise to it, less ships with less rich tourists along the usual routes, might be time to shake things up, let the bantha regrow some fur before we shave it again,”

<Perhaps…perhaps….>

The Hutt leaned back as a Toydarian – Blaze didn’t know and frankly didn’t want to know if they had genders – massaged the blobs bumpy head in a dramatic scene of introspection, Blaze well knew Ozrym already had a plan in mind for the next major hit, he just liked to keep you waiting.

<I hear the Housi Sect is mining Naquadah…ultra-dense mineral, very valuable very rare….>

“The Housi’s they were Black Sun…” Blaze noted, a few years back the Black Sun had been shattered with three Vigos – Aur Hondo, Jyx and most importantly the king pin Xithar all killed in months by the Sons of Kessel – since then it had dissolved into sub-factions fighting each other and carving mini crime empires, none of the new ‘Vigo’s’ strong enough to bring them together for any prolonged period.

This made them easy but unpredictable targets.

<No matter no matter…perhaps you could obtain some, I hear they are transporting it to the mid rim through a new route by passing Kwenn…>

Blaze mouth twitched, Kwenn was on the dividing line between Hutt space and the Republic Mid Rim, the only known route was a hyperspace corridor that dropped out just outside the system before going to the Republic where the Hutts had set up a space station to collect tariff’s on goods going to and fro.

If the Housi’s had found another route that would deny the Hutt’s their traiff’s and be just as valuable as the Naquadah itself for Ozrym who would no doubt prefer to ship his own goods through there to avoid paying his ‘fellow’ Hutt’s their due.

But there was a lager opportunity here…If Blaze could find this route…sell the vectors to the other Hutts – Boro or Vemm perhaps – he could easily get enough for what he ‘owed’ on the Kyala, and stick it to Ozrym to boot.

Then free of the Hutt he could make his own way in the galaxy at last.

“Alright…see what I can manage, it’s a long trip to Kwenn, goons might get rowdy if I don’t offer some sport,”

He’d have to make a few raids on the trip there to resupply, keep the goons from getting lazy, hopefully press gang a few more recruits.

<Of course of course…see what you can do…tottle oo Blaze> Ozrym dismissed, watching the overconfident pirate stride out past his golden armoured Vordan guards.

When the door were sealed Ozrym plopped up to slap with a greasy hand his comm

“You may enter….”

From the side door Captain Hjjana, a more reliable operator who knew his place entered with a low bow followed by his first mate Uuun, an Ikotchi Orzym had never heard speak for the loss of vocal cords to a blaster bolt, but was overdue for a ship of his own in Ozrym’s services.

<Weed out the seed before the mud dries…> Ozyrm gurgled the well-known Huttese proverb referring to the beautifully slick muds of his home world, where weeds did not grow until after the rains when the sloppy soil dried out to allow them to spread roots- by removing them while the mud was still wet they never had the time to grow and spoil the delicious mud a Hutt could wallow in.

Blaze was not yet a problem, but he would be one day, he was too ambitious.  Ozrym had no intention to allowing things to get to the point that his profits would suffer – the mud was drying, the seed of Blaze insolence would be removed before it set further.

<Follow him…let his crew take the brunt of the fight with the Housi’s…then take your new ship Captain Uuun>

The Ikotchi smiled showing off a glinting row of duasteel teeth.
<<<<>>>>

Melron
Instinctively it should be the other way around.

Melron should be the one being held up by the throat and choked into submission.

Instead it was the hulking Barabel that thrashed inconsequentially against his armour as Melron squeezed, Aethan genehanced muscles having easily overpowered the reptilian.

“K….K… Kyala” it finally gasped out
“And the Captain’s name,” Lyaea questioned off to the side, aetheric lighting making delicate and intricate patterns between her fingers.

“Blaaaa…ssssee”

“Blasé?”

“Tttchsss”

Melron lifted an eyebrow,

“Perhaps zerek?” she wondered the Barabel unlikely to be able to produce the sound even when its throat was not being gripped by a blackstone fist

“Blaze”

“Yessss…”

Melron pressed tighter with his mind to affirm the information - the third source they since the cantina, much as he wanted to find this lost child he needed to be sure he was on the right path – time checking before was preferable to time wasted following the wrong lead.

Through the hazy alien memory he found what he needed, then pressed tighter to snap the leathery neck, dropping the twitching body to the broken pavement of the alley.

Anger briefly overtook him and he stomped the creatures head into a burst of brain and bone that went halfway up his leg.

“A damn pirate…a child of the People living as a…the outsiders who did this will die…”

Lyaea sympathized with his anger, and felt once more a sense of guilt that she had Kiraea to protect her as a child.  This Blaze had had no one.

“We have what we need,” she pushed past the emotion to focus on the task

“Hopefully he hasn’t left the planet, but even so wherever he is heading we can get there first,”

No matter what upgrades, no pirate vessel could escape an Aertemisaea Class Destroyer with a Mon-Cal-Chiss Hybrid Hyperdrive.

“And then…when he is safe…the outsiders pay for their crimes by the dozen.”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 06, 2020, 06:33:19 AM
Chapter 10 — Blaze of Memory — Part 5

Blaze

Yellow luminosity danced into ripples of blue as the Kyala unleashed a broadside against the Corvette.

He smashed the throttle forward as the energy field shattered his Star Viper painted with lurid blue flames along the wings accelerating into the thousands of metres per second in an instant from dead float.

The Corvette was an old Corellian hammer head model with more than a few modifications underneath the tribal painted hull,  similar patterns tattooed on muscled grey-green arms he’d seen once too often.

“Feeorin tribe…frell…”

He’d known that the Housi Sect was a solid outfit among the Black Sun dregs…but Ozrym had neglected to inform him they were Feeorins.

Feeorin were tough bastards but through the Flow he knew there weren’t many on that ship…a dozen or so in a patchy mess of the Flow, it was never totally accurate…but with them were at least three score of Gamorreans, the dumb filth were like a Phirk weight in the Flow, hard and heavy.

Cursing Ozrym he shrugged it off it was too late now, the first shots had been fired.

Shatter nets of green screamed across toward him as the Feeorins realised the ruse – they weren’t going to get boarded by the Kyala instead it was the fighters he had positioned amidst floating debris nearby that would land on the hull, cut it open and space the occupants out before slaving the ship back to Socorro to sell.

They were halfway to the target location at Kwenn and as he suspected the trip had the crew antsy for action, so pumped with combat stimms if Blaze didn’t give them someone else to fight they’d turn on each other, so he’d set up an ambush just outside an old mining rig Ozrym’s wiry info-broker had told him served as a Housi  stopover.

He wound past the shock nets that spiralled harmlessly into space, on his flank one clipped his escorts lower wing. 

“That’s coming out of your cut schutta!” he growled over the comm.

“Now get me close…”

The vipers formed up to shield him as he clipped on his helmet…his oldest trick had never failed him yet, so long as he could turn the Flow which even now ran up his spine in excited and fearful chills into blazing hate from his finger it never would.

The Vipers peppered the corvettes hull with las-cannon fire, furious orange welts of melted durasteel appearing along its length interspersed with metal explosions as they took out the anti fighter defences on this side of the ship.

The corvette made a sudden juddering motion…they were trying to make a jump…but the Kyala’s tractor beam intensified to hold them in place, Bjen as always doing his job well as Blazes first mate.

Blaze had initially wondered why Bjen hadn’t tried to take the chair himself, then realised it was because Bjen wanted all the trappings of being in charge without having to deal with the Hutts.

Fair call that, all the cut none of the crap

Finally over top, slamming the eject he hurled out with the concussive force of the gas jets on his seat.

Slamming himself back with the Flow he arced straight toward what looked like a service hatch on the hull, unclipping the chair to let it fly a mere instant before his boots slammed onto the doonimum plate mag locking.

Gripping the hatch with his mind he hurled it off with the Flow even as his joints still settled from the landing.

Air spewed out into the void then was cut off as the section was automatically sealed.

He was already leaping inside disintegrator and grenade launcher at the ready.

The corvette looked like it was still under construction, panels removed to make repairs and never bolted back on – probably as things went wrong so often it wasted time.  It seemed they spent all their credits on the outside paint job and neglected the interior…still he could fetch a few hundred thousand for it.

The chill of the Flow filled his limbs in opposition to the fiery blood flowing through him…Things were about to get heated.

The blast door before him wilted like paper as he stretched out a hand turning cold to flame, the Flow moving through him effortlessly, channelling tension, hatred and impotent anger all those runt fight’s he’d been part of had generated, shuddering fear each time he was thrown in the fighting pits, all the sleepless hours grasping what food he could steal hoping no one stole it from him in turn.

Everything just flowed…he let himself be carried with it, moving forward burning and blasting the Gamorreans who stumbled with the decompressive blast of gas into the vacuum of the breached section Blaze was expanding.

His eyes glazed even as he moved between their axes and spears, hammering their bulky plate armour with the butt of his rifle in such a way it made the plates shatter, the Flow in his minds eyes showing bring bulbs where things were weakest.

He was deep into it…deeper than he could ever recall, cold internal tingle lost to the heated exterior explosions as he melted doorways and burnt bodies.  Images flashed past in his lower mind levels, the fight with the Rodian boy…that very first memory, the cold overcoming him into heat…the rumble of the furred animals the smile of an older man that had his face in the setting sun…the kind eyes of the woman just like in the pamphlet…Aephrodaea, I’ve seen her before…

“You got to the bridge yet?” Bjen commed shattering the trance like state.

He was deep into the ship past he crew cabins, the timer on his HUD showing fifteen minutes…he’d drifted off there…that damn pamphlet, every time he thought about it he went as dopey as Spice snorter.

“Give me a chance…” he replied shaking off disorientation to melt the next blast door, the tension behind his eyes suddenly becoming apparent…too much using the Flow did that. He needed to be more sparing…once the…

Spinning on his heel he ducked low as fire came from behind…damn Feeorins had gone round behind him.

He could feel the vibrations through the deck as heavy booted Gamorreans in clunky exo suits raced up power-axes cracking with energy. 

Ducking behind a column he fired off an RPG straight in the fat belly of the first one.  Without air the explosion was more concussive than thermal, but the mag locked boots on the snouted creature kept it up right even if the face mask was torn free leaving its stumpy hand to warble trying to catch air to shove in its ugly nose.

“Where’s frelling Tchek and Doon!” the obsessive self-stimulator and the block head Yinchorri were meant to be covering his Blazes ass, not, as was probably the case, playing with their own.

“Can’t get a signal they fired some burst nets….” Bjen replied from the safety of the Kyala before the line turned to static.

The pounding got closer, the presence of the Feeorins, like a fire ball filled the Flow with a scraping of ice on rock in his head…he’d used it too much already.

He’d regret this later but…

His own fires of hate blazed into a blue inferno covering his body – rounding the corner he rushed forward finger holding the disruptor trigger down as he aimed high at the head planting bolts through eye lenses and nose plugs.

They returned fire - in the confines of the corridor there was nowhere to hide- but the Flow’s fire took up most of the energy…sometimes he felt it could be used to actually absorb it…but he never had time to practice, if he asked a crew man to fire a blaster at him…well it wouldn’t be for training.

Gammorean’s dropped as quickly as the charge in the disruptor rifle, in the other hand he fired another rpg over their stumpy heads to where the Feeorins were behind columns taking careful shots.

The blast hit the gamorreans in the back sending them straight onto blazing elbows and knees melting durasteel exo suits into their flesh – he was disappointed in the zero atmo he couldn’t hear their screams…yet in the Flow he could still feel their pain which was some consolidation.

There were eight of them crowded - he wove through like some nefarious sentient solar flare breaking bones and boiling blood as he duck and wove through their clumsy heavy sweeps that damaged the walls more than him.

A few hit his suit that brittle under his own fire…he could never control it right it would burn his own clothing when he used it all over…there must be a way…someone must know how… no he was the only one with the Flow he knew of in any real way…a few pit fighters had an inkling but never like him…he’d heard of things called Jedi that could lift objects with their mind like he could, some of the Black Sun rejects said they’d fought them, but he doubted it.

Past the gamorreans were disciplined Feeorins, tough and able finding their rifles useless they switched to melee weapons – tremor swords and elector-batons as he closed in.

A few tried to retreat back, he was too naturally fast, skidding down beneath the swings of their swords he grabbed at their legs, his blue fire hand crushing their ankles into steamed messes of bone and charred flesh.

The hacked and slashed at him, more blows connecting, the pressure behind his eyes was getting too much, he could feel his hearts squeeze intensifying.  One blade as he stood scratched into his upper helmet taking shard of steel and jutting just inside the slimy body glove to slice at his skin.

The red sensation of damage angered him into a sloppy burst of blows the disciplined Feeorins punished with rapid cuts to his back – the flames around him sputtering as they cut into old oxygen tanks that hissed and tried to push him forward as the gas expelled.

Destabilised he wavered in the midst of the four of them, the flames kept them at a distance but they were probing and could see the intensity of his fire fading.

Teeth gritted with hate he channelled the rage and despair for a life he couldn’t even recall that had been stolen, the primitive desire to live that had triggered the first time he had unleashed fire from his hands, survive the hourly violence of life among the cruel and depraved.

Again it pulled him through.

A second wind of cold clarity overcame him as hormones he was not aware of let alone able to name pumped through him.

It could not make him faster or stronger, but it could suppress the red signals of pain, ignore the scratching overuse of the Flow that itched his every cell.

He took blows, counted them clearly but the Feeorins paid the price for each one as genehanced hands gripped their blades and snapped them off, engineered legs swept backwards with their 270 degree articulation to trip them before slamming them down with instinctual telekinetic blows that compressed them into the floor.

A vague realisation came to him that his enemies were dead, he was bleeding and depleted, mouth and nose locked in the vacuum as his suits seals had long since been breached – his meta human biology able to survive for a short time in pure vacuum all that kept him alive.

He seemed a passenger in his own body as it walked to the hatch was and gripped with bloody fingers to twist the manual release open, stand against the rushing air that struck his face, then quickly slide in and reseal the door behind him.

As Blaze finally came back to himself he collapsed.

<<<<<>>>>

“Where were you vugu licker!” he sneered slapping Tchek on his ugly face.

“I nearly got skewered!”

The idiot just hung his head.

Tchek had found Blaze alive – if barely – in a sealed storage room in the aft of the corvette –Blaze had blasted through half the ship then vanished.

They filled him with booze and covered him with bacta patches and within half an hour he was up again feeling like he’d just tried to drink a rancor under the table.

“Not his fault, those Feeorins were tricky bastards…” Bjen intervened as they stood on the captured bridge, boots in the blood of the former owner.

“Besides you rushed in ahead,”

“Yeah cause I’m the only one who seems to do anything or it don’t get done at all,” Blaze screamed finger almost up Bjen’s metal substitute for a nose.

He was too tired for this dren…

“Get the ship slaved up, I want to be outta here in the hour,” Blaze waved them off hobbling away.

He would soon be recovered Bjen knew. The Yaka First mate had never worked out what kind of meta-human he was, only that it was very advanced, not a gene spliced monster the likes of which were produced commercially in the corporate sector…no this was something refined and perfected across generations.

As Tchek got to work on the navigation system Bjen checked his implanted message screen

[He dead?] the question was outstanding.

[Almost…That muck freller Tchek patched him up…revert to original plan] he replied to his soon to be Captain Uuun.

Much as he was fond of Blaze…well…even a short circuiting Yaka wasn’t dumb enough to stand in the way of a Hutts orders.

<<<<<>>>>

 
Lyaea

“Unnnggggggg.”

Her groan filled the ship…they’d missed him again!

They had worked out a quick route to Kwenn where they had determined he was headed after their interrogations, the hope was to beat him there and be waiting…

Three quarters there the Orb they had tuned to this Persons signature lit up like a nova as he drew heavily – desperately on the aether.

Turning round they had honed in on the position only to find they were too late once more.

“I’m sick of this chase the gobril!” she complained while absently flicking thought the latest chirps of Holo-Cheep

[Got such a nice Life day gift from my bae #bestbfEVA]

[Dinner by the Beach on Spira woo #LifeDayDates]

Lucky bitches…If I was in range I’d make you vomit all over your mates

A wicked malicious smile lit up her face at the thought, and excitement at the number of views that would get on her Whacked Galaxy Holotube page…

hmmm maybe the Vong have some more poisons I can use on the outsiders…unleash on a whole city just for fun…something that makes them puke up dren would be hilarious…or set some of those blorash jellies loose on an ice skating rink at the Chandrilla Winter Games….

“Lyaea!” Melron said firmly…almost demandingly…Almost she was a grown woman no male, no matter how much older and more experienced, would even contemplate telling her what to do.

“Oh fine!”

Tossling her hair she threw the i-holo to the floor for Melron to pick up and headed into the Nexus. 

Sitting on the cushion in the centre she reached back with the aether, the Bloodstone walls charge making it far easier to see the very recent past, and with the Tracking Orb it was near effortless to latch onto what this ‘Blaze’ had been up to in the few hours before they got here.

She peered into the void eyes closed, the panorama expanding before here as life forms wound backward in her minds eye…

“There…He arrived 15.4 standard hours ago…waited around in a fighter for 6 hours…then…attacked some ship…”

The limitation with Flow Vision through time like this was ‘dead’ objects without the aether vanished very quickly the further you went away in time…likely why no one in the Jedi would ever sense the Yuuzhan Vong coming…as it was mere 3 hours after the fact she could barely make out what type of vessel Blaze and his crew had attacked.

“He fought…killed some fugly things…then…got hit in the rear…are they…Nautolons? No Feeorins…nasty ones…forced him too…”

She focused her vision more tightly

“Oh…he got to a state of Aephrodaea’s grace…that is desperate,”

“Wasn’t his crew with him?” Melron asked

“No…they were…one was arguing with another about moving in…they….”

Pieces rapidly filled into place with their fourth level cognizance

“They were happy to let him die…delaying re-enforcing…some of his crew plan to turn on him…I can feel it, one of them felt disappointment when the other rescued him…”

She focused more on the image of Blaze flopped in a store room, bleeding, hands bruised from breaking Outsider bodies…so fresh from the fight so…sexy

Lyaea absently licked her lips.

“He’s in danger then…more than we thought…” Melron surmised

“hmmm…maybe this won’t be so boring after all…” Lyaea mused concerned only for her own entertainment.

(https://i.ibb.co/KjXKHVL/Hyper-Rear.png) (https://ibb.co/wNRc1pw)

<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 06, 2020, 06:34:43 AM
Chapter 10 — Blaze of Memory — Part 6

Blaze
The plains rolled out endlessly before him.  Even at the horizon glimmering in yellow and orange infinity seemed a hands breath away.

She was there, her back to him, red hair blowing in the wind along with the sheer white dress.

“Aeph…Ae….” He couldn’t say the name…it was not his place, he was merely a male, unworthy to utter it.

Her face moved, he caught just the slightest curve of her eyes, like the furtive light of a new moons thinnest edge at last lighting after being obscured in darkness signalling the new month beginning.

He stepped toward her, but was left behind, one body move but he somehow stayed in place.

It’s not him who or would go forward, he wasn’t…wasn’t as he should be…

“What am I then?” he asked impotently as the blaring horns drummed through his skull….


“errggghhh…” arm over his forehead he struggled up, the bones on his trophy necklace – now with three more Feeorin incisors – clattered as he sat up.

“You ‘live boss?” Doon, the dumbest Yinchorri in the galaxy asked from his corner.  Stupid as the tower of meat and muscle was it loyal after Blaze, in need of muscle, had hauled it out of the Pits on Nar Shadda after it lost a few too many fights and was destined for the Spice Mines.

“No thanks to you…frell me…what is that sound,”

“We’z near Oomm Pobol, Bjen said we take some rest ‘ere before we hit dem Housi’s”

“Did he now…” Blaze scowled.

Analysing the data from the Corvette they’d worked out one of the drop out points on the Housi’s new hyperspace route, he’d ordered Bjen to go straight there not to the Ootmian Pabol which Doon was incapable of pronouncing– the border between the Republic and Hutt Space where Kwenn station lay - just before he headed to sleep.

He glanced to the bedside table made from the husk of a broken generator, the corner worn ‘Arts of Aephrodaea’ pamphlet peeking out.

I thought I closed that drawer…

The ship suddenly shuddered as something clamped to it.  They were docking.

“You frelling dren sniffer Bjen.”

<<<<<>>>>

So far as Hutt run space stations went Kwenn was probably the nicest. 

It needed to be, legitimate Republic businesses operated here, the kind of casual violence, drug taking and prostitution that infected other places was not tolerated.  To that end it was run by the Nimbanese, a Hutt client race who, like the Rodians, held a large degree of autonomy and had worlds that were more peaceful and lawful than most of the Republic.

Even so just above the hexagonal modular docking lattice work that could be reconfigured to accommodate ships of any size – on the lowest ring of the three tiered station was the more seedy parts where the Spice and Death sticks were sold under the counters as ‘indentured workers’ offered favours for three times the price they would on Socorro while those same clean suit Republic businesses sentients ogled dancers and holo-vids illegal in most Republic systems.

Any other time Blaze would be partaking of what was on offer.

Not today.

“I told you,” he screamed finger under Bjen’s metal plate cyborg nose
“To go straight to the ambush, not stop off for a beer, bong and a bang,”

“The crew were getting rowdy…” Bjen tried to soothe
“You know they’re no good if they’re like that,”

“Yeah well now I’m getting rowdy you metal mouthed arse juice drinker.”

Bjen took the insult, noting with his cybernetic senses how exhausted Blaze was…he wasn’t sleeping…even more reason to have him replaced.  The real reason he was here was simple, he was giving Uuun time to set up a second ambush.  After the Kyala ambushed the Housi’s, if Blaze wasn’t killed by the Feeorins in that fight, Uuun would sweep in and finish him off, claim the Kyala – with Bjen as First mate of course – then head back with the Naquadha and whatever ships they had captured to Ozrym.

Blaze could feel the frozen tingle of something amiss…but ever since he’d seen that darn pamphlet everything seemed to give him that feeling…

“Alright, 8 hours then we leave, that’ll give us three hours to set up for the ambush, got it?”

“As you say Blaze,”

“Yeah as I say,”

<<<<<>>>>
The pulsing music and warbling flesh of the dancers did nothing for him.
It all seemed vague and unreal, as if he were in a permanent Death Stick Haze.

Doon clapped along to the Twi’Leki and Zeltron dancers as Blaze stared vacantly, still burnt out from the fight with the Feeorins, and not keen for the next one – undoubtedly the Naquadha shipment would be better guarded…no more solo EVA attacks this time.

He’d need to make sure the chain cannons were loaded, work out who to put where on the boarding parties…

His mind kept retching back to that face that…Goddess of a woman…as if he had a more important score unrelated to all…this.

Shaking it off he headed to the bar “I’m getting a drink,”

Pushing through the mix of business men and his stinking crew he slouched onto a bar stool.

“Three Toydarain Blitz’s and four Tatooine sunrises,” Maybe, just maybe that would have an effect… he squinted pinching at his nose as the raw itch of the pain from using the Flow too much just kept scratching.

“I don’t think that will cure that kind of hangover,” a feminine and slightly wizened voice noted behind the bar

“Didn’t ask for your opinion just the drinks, “ he looked at the queer bartender, a short stumpy orange creature with oversized lenses on her head

“As you prefer, but I know something of those kind of aches, and I know it won’t be relieved till you accept who you are is not who you ought to be,”

Now Blaze looked at the thing more intently
“What is this, but two drinks or more get a free psych evaluation?”

“Such fire, but from a place of fear and cold, not warmth and confidence,” the orange creature chided

“Look sunshine, just serve the drinks or you’ll get a taste of that fire,” he slammed his fist on the counter, the creature wise enough not to push her luck.

As rapidly as they were poured he drank them down, only the slightest tingle of effect as his microbiome rapidly sliced the more potent chemicals into neat packages of useful protein building blocks long before they could reach his blood stream.

Still frustrated he stumbled out of the bar toward the docking bays, stumbling along as the echoes of his Flow hangover chipped away at his balance.  The alcohol on his breath almost a convenient excuse for the deeper issues.

What Am I doing…even if tis raid goes fine…so what, I sell out Ozrym, end up working for another Hutt…they never let you go…I should take a fighter and blitz…but then what…

This parade of violence, theft and debauchery was all he had known, he was made by the system ad trapped within it, rocking his way to the side wall of a concourse he stared at the business men come and go, fresh faced with a predatory smile in, guffawing with silken favours and lipstick marks out.
I want to Break free…

The only way this ended was with dead, either in a     messed up raid or stabbed in the back by some ambitious little tralk like he had been.

 I want to break free

He could be the greatest pirate in the galaxy, and it wouldn’t change that fact, just make him more lucrative to kill for the reputation it would bring – ‘I killed Blaze the flaming maniac’

I want to break free from your lies

There was nothing or him here, or anywhere, he just survived day by day, waiting till someone topped him.

You're so self satisfied I don't need you

Why not just whore and kill with the time he had left.

I've got to break free

Hand in his pocket he scrunched up the pamphlet…ever since he’d seen it he’d felt nothing but doubt, chaos and confusion as he questioned his life and dreamed of something better that could never be…something that was already dead.

He needed to be free of hope life could be any different, free of the nagging thought he belonged anywhere other than here, could do anything more than frell, slaughter and burn.

A sweeping calm came over him as he went back to the equilibrium of resigned acceptance of the hedonism and violence that was his entire existence.

God knows, God knows I want to break free

<<<<<>>>>

 
Melron
(https://i.ibb.co/k9BNpgt/destroyerorbit-2a-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/ZYXq360)
The Aethenaea set at a dead float.

Waiting.

Watching.

They’d mostly caught up with Blaze ship, arriving at Kwenn just in time to see it depart on an unusual heading.

At some point they had overtaken Blaze ship which was still in hyperspace, the tug on the tracking orb keyed to his aetheric ‘song’ as Milaea called it, pivoting to the aft rather than stern.

They dropped out at a natural junction at the end of this routes safe hyperspace zone, the point at which any ship with conventional navigation systems would need to drop out to recalibrate the next jump.

This was where it would happen.

They couldn’t detect Blaze until he used the aether strongly, his presence was naturally closed off until he did, a survival mechanism no doubt…it meant even more waiting to pinpoint him…

Melron breathed out his frustration as his Blackstone cuirass locked to his bodyglove.

The aether crackled with energy here…not in the now…but the near future…

Something rapid and violent was about to come to pass.

His Mark 1 helmet clasping on with a hiss he spun his sword in a Morgukai Djen-wo flourish.

Let this future be realized – Melron and Lyaea would be that violence that saved a lost child from Outsider tormentors at last.

<<<<<>>>>

Blaze
On perfect schedule the bulky cargo hauler flanked by two frigates dropped out of hyperspace.

Blaze mind was all but empty as he stood on the bridge of the Kyala the menials on the consoles below punching away in the dim light as he slouched on the command throne gazing blankly into space, the Pirate destroyer at dead float with minimal systems online.

The chipped and rusted metal was bare around him but for flecks of an old paint job that peeled every now and then to land on the floor and be crushed under boots.

Bjen waited for his signal.

A cold river of panic had frozen in Blaze spine, the kind of feeling that he usually pushed out a blazing blue fire…yet something about this time was different, as if there was no amount of fire he could hurl to escape the icy grip of death this time.

“Switch it on,” he ordered calmly allowing the pre-battle clarity to settle over him, in a few moments that feeling would take over and he’d be in the zone completely – it was only in moments of peace where his thoughts weren’t drowned out by battle and blood lust that such uncertainties bothered him.

“Mass drivers 50 per cent!” Bjen cled out his croaky voice amplified by his cybernetics.

The gravitational fields whirred causing the entire ship to shake as the well was generated and the lights of the Kyala switched back on with the shields.

They would know they were there now, he didn’t care.

“Bring us round heading 33.5 get us right up alongside, upper cannons on the right freighter, lower on the left,” Blaze continued passively sensing the blotches of life on the vessels he was about to annihilate.

The Frigates were well quipped but simply out gunned,

They fired the first shots a volley of solid turbo laser fire to his engines.

They know they can’t make the jump…they know we’re going to board…they just wwant to play for time

The yellow balsts hammered agains the rea shield, lights blinked and alarms screamed

“Rear shield 45 per cent, overlap?” the defence operator asked

“Leave them,” Blaze replied, the Kyala had six shield generators along ships core, each could be expanded to overlap with the ones immediately next to it to intensify defences if a section as targeted, but for now he had no desire to do so.

“Pull he power to the sub lights by 50 percent when they make a hit,” he went on, he could almost feel Bjen’s curiosity

“Shield down to 25 per cent,”

“Returning fire”

Bloated red launched from the top of the Kyala along the rear top of the ship, he couldn’t see it from the bridge apart from the read outs.  The Cargo hauler began to reposition, painted with the same Feeorin Tribal symbols Blaze scrutinized the outline even at this vast distance with his superior eye sight…

“That’s not a cargo ship…that’s a frelling Cruiser…Ozrym you arse sniffing dren glugger…”

Confirmation he’d been played came moments later as the Cruiser fired off a volley of twelve shots of arcing green turbo laser fire visible to the naked eye, followed by mini pings of missiles only detectable on the long range sensors.

The glacier of fear in the Flow gave way to urgent action as Blaze mind without prompt drew on all his experiences and knowledge two decades as a space pirate brought to work out the best response.

He leapt up from the chair.

“Double shields front,     turn about on heading 26.8 Y 49.5 Z aiming intercept course angled 5.6 degrees so we come up along side, send all the runts to load the chain shot on the port side, have the boarders get there too, I want every hatch ready to blow and lock, full gas spray before we go in.”

He strode up to the main gunnery command console, pushing the operator aside to plug in his own calculations of where the frigates would be even as they broke through the rear shields yielding a screech of alarms from metal throats weary from years of similar alerts.

As he ordered the sublights were cut by 50 percent even though the damage of the next hit was to the plating only – they would think the Kyala had been slowed.

“Hold off retuning fire till I say but keep pivoting around.”

This was the distance manoeuvring phase of a capital ship duel, not close enough for medium range weapons, were every degree mattered as they closed in as a single wrong vector once close was impossible to correct with such bulky vessels given the time they took to position.

The space between the ships lit with increasing amounts of turbo laser fire, bouncing mostly off the shields for now. 

Blazes jaw shifted as he waited for the right time to see if they took the bait…

More shots hit the rear of his ship, still he waited as the his vessel slowly pivoted his eyes darting between screens halfway across the deck checking on the rapidly switching numbers on ancient plastic counters.

Another alarm signalled a breach, one of the Frigates scoring a solid hit, not doubt a section and a few dozen lives would be lost, he kept waiting – no one cared for losses, just less shares of the booty.

“Full sublight on this…” he swept to navigation and typed it in himself “heading, all port side cannons primed on my command!”

They’d taken he bait the Cruiser and the Frigate intercept vectors were based on the Kyala at half sublight, they’d assumed their hit earlier was a success, they would soon regret that.

Now moving head on the front shields were being hammered down to 14 per cent and the entire ship lurched with the sudden acceleration.

The Kyala pushed forward on the heading pivoting on its lateral axis slightly, the Cruiser was moving too fast to reposition in response, the frigates now faced the upper hull.

Blaze could only smile as the trick came to fruition and the Port side of his destroyer lined up just under the Cruises underbelly as it’s hammered its positioning thrusters to get away.

“Fire!’

The chain shot- a vicious amalgam of two 500 kg weights on the end of a fifty metre durasteel chain fired at 500KMp/h at a distance of only a few kilometres it tore through the shields and ripped into the doonium of the Cruisers belly and the Frigates sides as the Kyala passed in between them on a dangerously close course.

“Hit the tractors!”

Another loud clunk as the tractor beams engaged dragging the Cruiser now spewing metal and men toward the port side where the boarding doors were waiting to burst open an unleash a horde of half sane violent pirates itching for blood and booty.

“Take care of the Frigates!” Blaze ordered Bjen,

“I’ll take this little bitch myself,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 06, 2020, 06:36:46 AM
 
Chapter 10 — Blaze of Memory — Part 7

Blaze
3 metre high extendable ramps of donnimum slammed ‘down’ if one could ascribe direction to space warfare. 

As the Frigates traded blows with the upper decks dozens of Blaze’s crew rushed across the ramps on mag boots as they expanded to their full 9 metre potential length into the wrecked Cruises under levels.

Relative to the cruiser they were walking on the walls amidst the sea of steel, sparking cables and flash frozen bodies. 

The Feeorins were competent enough to have locked down those sections as best they could, even thrown a few auto turrets and mines that exploded on proximity sending half cooked bodies flying off to the side to bounced between the Kyala and the cruisers hulls before being lost completely to the void. 

Didn’t matter.  Nothing to lose, nothing to gain, only the Fight to live for.

Blaze was on Fire.

Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise

Hand out Flow pulsing he grabbed the blast door and pulled it open, explosive decompression sending two chubby gamorrean bodies flying out.

Playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday

Leaving his goons behind he stomped on what was usually the wall, grenade launcher in one hand firing down the corridor, blaster in the other picking blasting the barrels of rifles as they picked out with his generically enhanced sight and reflexes.

You got mud on your face, you big disgrace

A lucky shot grazed the edge of his helmet, air hissed out, he ignored it, he could go without oxygen for a few hours. He took the shots in his stride ducking and weaving as he picked up pace, then closed with the Feeorin’s in their grey and teal tribal painted armour.

Kicking your can all over the place, singin'

Bobbing and bouncing he used the launchers stock and blaster handle to batter them, blows built up from years of street and pit fighting rather than any formal training, they were unrefined but undeniably brutal.

The second of two dead he bashed the armoured body against the next blast door, the flow pulsing in him, seeming to guide him exactly where to hit to cause the duasteel to fracture unnaturally, making it effortless to bash in with another hit, revealing one of the main store rooms, behind, strong boxes full of Naquadha and half a dozen Feeorins among a gaggle of gamorreans.

“I will, I will ROCK YOU!”

Buddy, you're a young man, hard man

He dove straight in, he didn’t care anymore about the booty, the crew, the Hutts, the damn Aephrodaea woman, he just wanted to get lost in the blood lust and the Fire.

That he was met with a veritable blizzard of blaster fire and hurricane of vibro-axe swings just meant he had no cognitive capacity to spend on anything else.

Shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday

He took the horde on, grenades firing behind cover, blasters shots blowing out eyes, his body alight with the Flow, elbows driving into gamorrean guts, knees into Feeorin chests.

You got blood on your face, you big disgrace

Between blast of Flow Fire that sent beings rolling on the floor and bursting grenades that forced Feeorins out of cover he ran out of ammo, chucked his blaster and launcher at 200kmph into a Gamorrean snout, pulled his vibro swords and took on the axes and halberds, closing in against the longer weapons one by one other used the reach to scratch up his armour.

He sliced an axe pole apart to get close and ram both blades in – one to the chest one to the neck, flashed fire into one trying to get behind him, the Feeorin tearing off his helmet as if the vacuum was preferably to the conflagration, not realising the Flow needed no air to burn.

Blaze burned through his energy as quickly as he incinerated lives, casually noticing he was running out of enemies.

Waving your banner all over the place

“Let’s frell this bitch every way we can boys!” he called as a handful of his goons lead by Tchek and Doon caught up.

The far blast door opened and the largest Feeorin he’d ever seen stepped in flanked by four more, his helmet painted in the manner of some kind of fanged beast, the armour etched with tribal motifs rather than just painted.

I Will Rock you Bitch!” he leapt fire blazing.
Buddy, you're an Old Man, poor man

The titan of a Feeorin, over seven hundred years old was having none of it, the petulant human was smacked aside as he spun his power-axe into his face.

Blaze slammed into the crates that were mag locked and strapped to the ‘floor’, given they had been fighting on the ‘wall’ relative to the ships normal orientation.

Doon and Tchek were taken up rushing to cover as the other Feeorins pinned them up with more disciplined fire than the fire bunch had shown, the largest one that had to be the Captain slowly pacing toward him axe humming with power as he raised a gauntlet blaster and unleashed hell hot bolts.

Pleading with your eyes, gonna get you some peace someday

Blaze rolled as best he could but one of them struck his thigh, red flashes of pain sensation suppressed quickly by his metahuman hormones

Spinning up he poured the Fires that had saved him as a child so many times as the walking tank.  The thick armour’s outer layer bubbled and cracked, but it was too thick and Blaze too exhausted.

With surprising speed for his size the Feeorin closed, axe swing straight at Blaze injured leg.  With no feeling in the numb limb he lifted it in time but felt a sickly wet pop in his hip…the axe bit deep into the steel of a crate. 

The follow up punch shattered Blaze helmet fully and made his face feel like it was imploding.

You got mud on your face, big disgrace

Recovering slightly he crouched low and went to move in tight, one eye now closed with bruising, he spun beneath the huge creature aiming of the legs, his speed letting him get a blow into the back of the knee, then skidding along came up behind to leap and slice into the tentacles trailing at the back of the ancient Feeorins head.

Somebody better put you back into your place

Screeching with pain the creature spun faster than Blaze would’ve believed possible to land a furious slap straight in Blaze chest. 
(https://i.ibb.co/7zNtH1b/Gyl-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/7zNtH1b)
But Blaze grabbed the arm almost as big as his torso and just Poured all the Fire he could.  Every moment cowering before the adults who would kick him about, all the nights clinging to stolen food worrying someone would steal it off him in turn, all the hollow feeling after breaking another malnourished kid in the Pits, all the casual violence, indifferent whores, traitorous Hutts, twisted half memories that Aephrodaea’ woman’s face brought to him…

It all flowed out as pure blue flame onto the now frantic Feeorin whose other hand swung the huge axe down.

Blaze struggled just enough for it to miss his head, but it still sleaved off half his left shoulder muscled, blood icing in the vacuum even as gurgling boiling pops signalled the flesh within the Feeorin’s armour being cooked.

It was still not enough. The Feeorin raised him up and slammed him into a crate spilling dense bars of Naquadha onto the floor, crumpling his bones inward if not breaking them.

Blaze lost his grip with his strength and slid off as Doon, the dumb loyal old Yinch bloody and battered headed toward him…..

We will, we will…

Then dropped.

As his enormous form crashed down Blaze saw behind him a dozen figures in murky once yellow armour, at their head a twisted smile beneath a partially transparent visor.

Uuun and his goons, and beside him…

“Just business Blaze,” Bjen sighed.

Rock You
<<<<<>>>>

Killer Queen
(https://i.ibb.co/b59mywk/Lya-red.png) (https://ibb.co/b59mywk)
She keeps her Corellian Whisky
In her pretty cabinet


She bounced her hips along with the rhythm of the song against the turbulence of the vessel she was cramped in.

Finally this gobril chase was coming to an end she could see the Person they had been tracking bright as the sun in the aether up ahead.

She spiralled through the void in the Vorsis Boarding Torpedo – based on one man Chiss Orbital Drop pods it was a grinding drill like missile of Blackstone that would bore into the side of ship then burst open to let the Aethan inside cause havoc within the ship.

These petty pirates fighting among themselves had no idea what was about to hit them.

"Let them eat cake", she says
Just like the Hapan Queen


Invisible to most conventional sensors she swept through the cross fire between the Pirate Destroyer and the escort frigates, guiding herself with the aether straight at the Housi Cruisers upper decks.

Her hands tightened on her short sword as she gripped the front of the Vorsis torpedo with her fourth level of consciousness and spun the drilling blades telekinetically with her thrid.

A built-in remedy
For Lord Hoth and Skere Kaan


With a shattering crunch Blackstone met doonium – the ultradense mineral spinning and several thousand RPM tore the weaker metal apart gas and cured shards spilling into space.

At anytime an invitation
You can't decline


An instant later she was halfway through the vessels and two ruined decks down, a flick of her eyes to the ocular tracked controls in her Mark 1 Guardian HUD blasted the torpedo hatch open with explosive force that ripped apart the floor between decks it was grinding against.

The explosion was overshadowed by her own leap out, mind cold and focused.  Yes she might be bratty and flippant most of the time, but that was because Lyaea was so deadly serious when ‘on the job’.

Spice and Death Sticks
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice…


She spun into the corridors, the place a mess of broken sparking cables, atmosphere tubes spiralling wildly and gravity slowly dying as shrapnel floated about.

Like a wind of black death she sailed toward the nearest bulk head three shots from her Phase Rifle ripping it free to enjoy an explosive decompression.

The gaggles of yellow armoured troops behind grabbing onto columns and struts to avoid being pulled out as she moved in.

She's a Killer Queen
Vibro Blades, disintegrators
Detonators and a laser stream
Guaranteed to blow your mind


She wove through the collection of shocked creatures with grace and precision, her Blackstone short swords – a recent gift from her brother - had been enchanted like his shepherd’s staff to be stronger and sharper than a Vorynx claw, slicing through the yellow durasteel the Outsiders cloaked themselves like a vibro blade through Hapan crème cake.

Recommended at the price
Insatiable an appetite


The resistance began to grow as the initial shock wore off, more goons turned to fire on her as she zeroed on her target, flopped an near dead beneath a towering Feeorin with an axe large than she was.

”Wanna try me?” she yelled the challenge through the aether to every Yellow armed twit and Feeorin fink crowding the large cargo deck, rail grooves running along the floor twisted, bodies of Feeorins, Gammoreans and Pirates floating about amidst frozen droplets of bloody rain.

As one Blazes crew, Uuun’s Commando’s and the Feeorins turned their attention from each other and Blaze and straight onto her.

To avoid complications
She never kept the same address


A rain of green and red flew from polished durasteel rifles at her, she wove like mist between them never stationary, never presenting more than a third of her profile to target even as she obscured herself in a broad aetheric perceptual illusion that made her little more than an indistinct waif in a hazy mirage.

She fired back with her rifle and sent her short swords ahead – the two blades spun like pinwheels of death guided by her telekinetic expertise.

Chests blew out, arms flew off at the shoulder, heads were split from ear to ear as she devastated the petty outsiders.

She had just spent a month fighting Ebruchi pirates hard-core enough to tangle with the Chiss…most of these losers were average in comparison.

They began to break and falter as the black mist that was her illusion slowly filled the cargo deck, only the enormous Feeorin seemed to hold his crew together barking orders in an ancient crackled dialect.

Pain was leaching off the Feeorin Captain but he plodded on raising his axe and firing at her directly as if he’d seen through such illusions before…based on his size he was centuries old and likely had…

What she didn’t spin through her armour absorbed with ease as he got closer, grabbing at the hulking brutes feet with her mind…and pulling down through the weakened wall that served as a floor.

Using her surrounds she dedicated her second level of conscious to grasp floating Aquarion – Naquadha the Outsiders called it – and hurled the ultradense blocks all around at 400kmph slamming the Feeorins and Yellow goons about, half a dozen slamming into the Captain’s head knocking him unconscious.

Losing blood head filled with Flow exhaustion Blaze was phasing in and out of consciousness all he saw in his tunnel vision was a shadow slowly sucking up the corridor, Uuun’s goons vanishing one by one into the cloud of death till it enveloped him…

A tiny hiss and then…everything was black except for Her face…the face from the pamphlet…Aephrodaea herself.

“Come with me if you want to live”

In conversation
She spoke just like a baroness


Her hand out, helmet off to show she was not a threat she looked down at Blaze wretched form, his hair bleached white, skin mottled and bruised, exuding raw painful echoes of aetheric overuse.

Eyes rolling in death throes he took her hand convinced he was experiencing a life ending hallucination…at least she was pretty.

Met a man from Chandrilla
Went down to Corellia
Then again incidentally
If you're that way inclined


She had no time to talk more, with a swift motion from holding his hand to throwing him over her back and resealing her helmet.
<Got him> she telepathically signalled Melron
<Teach them a lesson>

<Gladly> was the response from the Aethenaea’s Aetheric Nexus as Melron unleashed the Blackstone Shikkar Torpedoes he’d been keeping in wait.

Already the Housi Cruiser was falling apart from the chain shot and boarding torpedo, now they would wipe out the rest of the pirates.

Twelve jagged blades of ultradense Greysleet that would, at best, appear as rocks on the Kyala’s scanners slammed into it’s from all directions even as another eight struck Uuun’s temporary vessel the Pride of Ozrym.

Again Blackstone met doonium and again Doonium lost, the Shikkar’s ripping through and within the ships on carefully guided courses hitting all key systems in turn before exiting leaving the ships crippled dying hulks.

Blaze remained oblivious to all this, his weary half sleeping mind filled with the pleasant remnants of the aroma of Lyaea’s hair that still help to her shoulder pads after a brief touch even with her helmet back on.

Perfume came naturally from Naboo Naturally
For corvettes she couldn't care less


Her primary mission accomplished she guided the Assault Transport Gobril with her mind for extraction, considering Blaze’s injuries she had no time for disposing of the others, though she might as well take the Aquarion while she was here.

The Naquadha broke free from its crates and lodgement in rib cages and heads, the ultradense stone yielding easily to the touch of an Aethan, as the scattered survivors of mosh pit of destruction began to hit their gas jets to escape the Cruiser as a massive gash into open space opened up and bodies and flotsam from the Kyala beginning slamming inside at dangerous speeds dislodged by Melron’s missiles.

Fastidious and precise
She's a Killer Queen


Her mind on the controls the Gobril used it Blackstone hull to barge straight into the gash that had opened up its rear hatch slowly lowering as she drew the Aquarion bars around her as a protective shield from the high speed shards of metal now flying across the devastated amalgam of two ships that rocked with tertiary explosions.

Lightsabre, turbo beams
Vibro’s with a killer gleam
Guaranteed to blow your mind


Astoundingly amidst the carnage the Feeorin Captain was pulling himself from the floor Lyaea had sunk him in, roaring from a battered helmet and firing off blasts toward the Gobril from his gauntlet cannon

Irritated it was still alive she fired off an indifferent glass shikkar at the beastly thing as she dropped into the ship the blocks of Aquarion following her in.

Drop of a hat she's as willing and
Playful as a Zeltron cad


She had to act fast now, she hit the accelerator telekinetically as she tore Blaze clothes off while sealing the ramp behind her and summoning the emergency medical kits as she poured healing energy into the failing body.

Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas


Even as she hooked up IV’s and slapped a suppressive aetheric totem on Blaze bare, muscular but wiry chest the Gobril shook with the shockwaves of the detonations behind her.

Blaze body reacted quickly to the nutrient supply and bacta-patches, heart squeeze slowing and steadying.

To absolutely drive you wild, wild

An annoying if successful little skirmish she thought glancing at the body of Blaze asleep on the floor by a spill of Naquadha bars.

“You better be worth it”

She's all out to get you
She's a Killer Queen


<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: HesaHeart on July 06, 2020, 07:54:42 AM
Sir, i hope you get published one day


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on July 09, 2020, 03:27:18 AM
I've said it before and I'll say it again: this storyline is magnificent!!  I absolutely LOVE the unique details, the disparate characterizations, the incredible plotting!  And all of this is supplemented by LSG's encyclopedic knowledge (seriously, if not for Wookiepedia, I would NEVER have known what LSG constantly and organically writes, peppering some phenomenal world-building into his narrative  :)).  Now to the particulars...

I feel for Blaze who--once again, epitomizing Aethan survivors after the Devestation--is a victim of circumstance, enslaved in a system that amounts to sharecropper's math.  I really appreciate the depths that you explored in Taryn's life as he becomes Blaze, ultimately condemned to the vicious circle that he fought within and against...if not for the timely rescue by Lyaea and Melron.  I think that HH put it best...

Sir, i hope you get published one day
I could NOT agree MORE  :)

(https://i.ibb.co/KjXKHVL/Hyper-Rear.png) (https://ibb.co/wNRc1pw)
I love how these pics more than supplement our writing (goodness knows that I'm lucky and grateful that FT has given me his visual expertise with many pics for my own stories  :)), and this collaboration between FT and LSG just demonstrates WHY I love these forums and how it has brought us together in a shared universe!

Hats off to FT and LSG for these AWESOME rendering(s)!!!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 14, 2020, 01:37:49 AM
 
Chapter 11 — Fires of Remembrance — Part 1

Ozrym
“I find myself confused once more…” he gargled in between gulps of sweet-water – taking a break from more heavily intoxicating beverages to keep his mind clear during this particular conference.

“The Kyala and Pride of Ozrym both of which I gifted to you Uuun…were damaged beyond repair by ‘meteorites’ of some kind, the Cruiser also destroyed, and the Naquadha, along with Blaze whom you assured me you would dispatch and take over command from, vanished along with a ‘Shadow woman’?”

Bjen, Uuun and a few of their surviving higher ranking crew members stood heads bowed before him – surrounded of course by Ozryms Gold Armoured Vordan body guards to remind them that punishment would not be long in coming.

“Is that correct?”

Bjen, the demented Yaka looked up and opened his mouth with what Ozrym already knew would be a self-justifying excuse before he heard it.

“I was on the Kyala the whole time, sent Blaze right into the trap, disabled the Housi ship, then this turd sniffer botched it up!” he pointed an accusing finger at the silent Uuun.

“Don’t’ believe his tales about a ‘Shadow Woman, its Bathna sprog, his goons got their butts kicked and Blaze took off in one of his ships!”

That seems more believable than a random shadow woman appearing and killing Uuun’s men Ozrym had to concede Blaze was one of the best fighters with his unusual abilities that Ozrym knew were of the Force but had no inclination to educate anyone on.

Ozrym looked to Uuun who simply remained silent and frustrated.

“It seems I have, in trusting you to rid me of a single disobedient Captain…lost three good ships, several tons of Naquadha and nearly two hundred men…and had the said Captain vanish with a Hutts ransom in Naquadha…”

Ozrym sighed for dramatic effect his tail dipped low in mourning as he placed his stubby hands over his nipples in another sign of contrition

“I trusted in your abilities Uuun, in your loyalty to me over Blaze, Bjen…it is not the credits that hurt me…”
Actually it is…the Kyala was bringing in nearly 10 million credits a year
“…it’s the breach of faith I had in you…”

He paused again for dramatic effect a near sincere tear wetting his large eyes.

“But you can earn it back…Blaze it not a subtle man, Naquadha is not an easy thing sell in that quantity, he will show up, and when he does I have Faith the two of you and your surviving crew will be there to deliver him…or at least the identifiable majority of him….to me – along with the Naquadha or the credits Blaze got for it of course”

He paused again for dramatic effect.

“If not…well I may have to recover my losses by…” he sniffled with faux sadness
“…having to sell you my good friends to the Pykes….or the Pits”

Now Uuun showed some reaction, looking to Bjen, as much as they might dislike each other their fates were now tied, if they didn’t get results quick…they would be on the same chain gang.

“Well I’m quite tired after such a stressful conversation, Tootle-oo my faithful friends…I pray you won’t disappoint me again,”

Once more as the main door slid closed another to the side opened, the floor quaking with the heavy footsteps of his next guest.

Gyl Housi, a Feeorin older than Ozrym was, skin on his face melted and twisted by Blazes eldritch powers stepped forward, helmet under his arm, beside him another Feeorin translator.  Like all Feeorins Gyl grew stronger as he aged, but also suffered the effects of such a long life in loss of memory, as it was he could no longer speak Basic or Huttese, only his native tongue. 

(Well Hutt) his translator echoed for him

“Friend Housi, my apologies again for my men’s unsanctioned attack on your vessels, I am committed to ensuring you are adequately compensated,”
“Hrggggnnnn” Gyl growled

The translator paused before replying
(I consider that unlikely)

“Oh I assure you I am, and in doing business with the Housi Tribe on an ongoing basis, as we discussed via holo comm,”

Blaze, Uuun and Bjen had all failed, but Gyl had proven exceedingly resilient and capable, his Naquadha mining operation and new hyperspace lane marked him as strategic and clever Chief, likely too clever to ever fall under Ozrym’s power fully, but one with whom he could rely on more than most of his own men.

“As soon as Bjen and Uuun located Blaze and you Naquadha you will be informed, and have the opportunity to avenge yourself on him to your satisfaction.”

“YaaarkkkGruulll Nasshhhhee Huttusha”
(Make it quick Hutt)

“Naar shimm deiii”
(Or I will take my satisfaction upon you)

<<<<<>>>>

Blaze
(https://i.ibb.co/cc1S2gy/Blaze-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/cc1S2gy)
Heavy eye lids shuttered open and closed unwilling to fully break from the nepenthe of empty sleep.

But the light was too bright, the smells too many to shut out once the threshold of wakefulness had been crossed.

Blaze opened his eyes to a dream

Green foliage was above him, scents he had never imagined surrounded him, and the taste of air not six times passed through air scrubbers filled his respiratory system.

His body felt heavy as doonium as he pressed down onto a warm, yielding surface…

soil… he’d never touched real soil before…the dirt and dust of Soccorro hardly counted…

Nor had he seen a real tree such as that which now confronted him – Nar Shadda not being known for its botanical gardens, nor pirates much for visiting them.

The surreal feeling only intensified as his eyes adjusted enough to the white light above to see it came from rounded alcoves in a ceiling rather than a sun.

“<Ah you’re awake son>,” a voice came from behind him…yet more than a voice even if he couldn’t hear it with his ears he would’ve heard it somehow.

Shifting around he noted he was undressed except for a neat cloth and coarse but tightly wound bandages covering where he’s taken cuts and blaster bolts.

Behind Blaze sitting cross legged in a simple coarse looking shirt on the grass, a few small furred animals peeking from shrubs nearby, was an over middle aged human with a rough world weary face.

“How are you feeling?”

Blaze considered for a moment.

“Frelling mind Schatt,” he decided upon

“This is a trip ain’t it…I’ve lost the plot, seeing trees and furballs and wise old sages…”

He shook his head, he’d finally taken too much of hit to the head, or was hallucinating as the air was sapped from his lung equivalents by the vacuum, causing weird reactions in his brain as he did.

“But it’s fine, all be over soon,” he closed his eyes expecting to cease his existence.

He breathed in.

And Out.

He was still there

“Well frell…why can’t I have lucid dreams of an orgy before I cark it….”

“You’re not dead so…”

“FRELLING SHAVIT DREN!” Blaze near on jumped out of his skin, one second the man had been sitting a good 10 metres away now he was right next to him

“How the frell did you do that!”

The man stood up along with him his hands open and wide in a calming gesture that was only having the opposite effect

“It’s alright son, I’m not going to harm you, you’ve just adapted to Outsider movement speed and gait, but you’ll soon readapt to your natural speed,”

“What’s-the-matter-is-he-oh-awake-hello-can-i-get-you-anything-to-eat-or-drink”

“What the frell”

Now he had to turn to see another figure following a burst on incomprehensible words

<He’s-adapted-to-outsider-speed>

<Oh-well-that-will-make-this-hard-will-have-to-slowly-wean-him-back-up>

Finally he saw the speaker it was…

Her

The girl from the Arts of Aephrodaea pamphlet, the one that had been in his head…or rather…not quite her…a photo-edited version of her…but still it was Her

“Halloooo” she said slowly as he stood mouth agape at her sheer presence, the alabaster skin, crimson hair, flawless features.
“My Name is Lyyy-Ayyyy-yyaaa, this is Mellll-Rrr-ohhhnn, are you…” she had peppered her conversation thus far by pointing to herself then the other man as if he were a five year old.

“Huuun- garrreeee?” to this she added a demonstration of eating then drinking, then rubbing her belly beneath the tight black synth suit of some kind.

Blaze mouth simply widened.

“Right…well you make sense,” he decided upon
“I’ve been having weirdly non carnal dreams about you since I saw your picture, I get that delusion…”

He looked at the Old Man and the strange inside garden

“But this…this is just tripped out, maybe you’re like some daddy fantasy, and this place a mix up of my ship and dreams…” he spoke out loud his thoughts, after all it was his dying hallucination.

“Right well seeing as I’m about to get crumped by that Feeorin giant at any moment now, or just floating in space blood slowly freezing, might as well enjoy this last acid trip while it lasts…”

He reached out to grab at ‘Aephroadaea’s’ tits…

And suddenly found himself upside down against a tree.

“Frell me even in my dreams I can’t get my hands on those fun bags…”

Melron sighed,

“You’re not dreaming son, you’re alive, on a ship headed home…”

He gently lowered Blaze down with the aether.

“You’ve been lost for a long time, done what you had to just to survived, struggled, suffered, maybe more than anyone else…for that I’m sorry, sorry we…I…didn’t come sooner…”

Suddenly the Old Man had his arms wrapped around him

“But I’m here now son, I’ll take care of you, help you heal, be with you every step of the way,”

Blaze was still staring at ‘Lyy-ayy–yya’

“Well that’s great Pops but if you don’t mind I’d like to shag frellalicious over there before I tootle off to death, or at least get a good look at her v….”

<<<<>>>>

Melron

(https://i.ibb.co/jvqdQht/Melron-R2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/jvqdQht)

This would not be easy…it was already harder than he anticipated…but then what else could he expect, the boy had been raised by pirates and smugglers where violence and sex were daily currency.

<Lya, perhaps you should get some food for him before he insults you further..>

Lyaea mentally shrugged <Doesn’t bother me, frankly it’s flattering he finds me so attractive>

Blaze plopped back to the ground humming to himself

“Is this the real life…or is this just fantasy…caught in a landslide…”

“No escape from reality,” Lyaea finished for him

“Hey you know the lyrics!” Blaze smiled
“But of course you do, you’re my fantasy of the perfect woman, pretty, fun and totally unattainable…” he scratched at his back unwilling to risk being slammed into the tree trying to grab her pert ass cheeks…though it was a chance he was seriously considering taking.

Lyaea raised an eyebrow,

“One of my favourites, you can borrow my I-holo, or better still I can play it across the ship internal comms,”

<might help settle him down?> Lyaea noted to Melron

<Worth a shot>

He sat next to him once more

“This is real life, and a better life, you’re safe with us now, soon you’ll be home, but for now there is much to tell you…I don’t know how much you remember, much might’ve been locked away as a defensive instinct, but this is certain

You are of the People, an Aethan child of the Three Goddesses, heir to the Aethan Technocracy, the product of millennia of genetic enhancement and selective breeding to bring us all closer divinity and perfection.  Blood and Aether are your birth right to wield and enjoy  You will be welcomed, helped to find your place and join us in rebuilding our People and living as we were meant to among your own in the Valley.”

Blaze simply blinked

“Shavit…am I the one on spice or are you, I’m not sure any more, am I hallucinating about you, or are you hallucinating about me?”

“It’s not a hallucination…” Melorn reiterated as Lyaea arrived with arms full of Kyala fruit.
“Here…” he took one and offered it to Blaze
“A Kyala fruit, like you ship was named, did you ever wonder why you dreamt of fields of green, where that name came from?”

“Wait what do you meant ‘was named’”

“Oh we blew that pile of junk up,” Lyaea said tactlessly

“Frag it between your thighs or something no doubt…so when is this gonna end cause seriously I’m happy to die now, this is getting weird and boring, and as nice as it is staring at your pretty little face sweet cheeks if I’m not gonna get to rub myself all over that tight body of yours I’ll just drop now,”

He flopped back eyes closed again.

<This is gonna take a looong time>

<<<<>>>>

As the hours passed Blaze slowly began to realise this was not an oxygen depletion delusion…mainly because of time elapsed rather than anything Melron had said.

He sat among the trees eating fruits and drinking gormin milk they brought him, likely the best he had eaten in…well possibly since he was taken…as Melron tried to explain what had occurred and trigger his memories.  Based on his current age, accounting for nutritional deficiencies, he was likely a few years younger than Lyaea when he had been taken, 4 or 5 years old…it was astounding he had survived, and likely had to enter a permanent ‘fight’ state to do so at a young age, what implications that might have were uncertain…he could hypothesize but would need to speak to the others.

“…so the story is twenty two years ago, your little village gets raided, your ‘Guardians’ who are evidently shelle at their job get lost in the galaxy, team up to kick some Jedi butt…then go looking for other lost People, that about it,”

“In summary yes,” Melron agreed.

“And I’m one of these lost kids?”

“You are, that is why you survived, why you were so much stronger and faster than others, why you could call on the Aether to utilize telekinesis and pyro kinesis, it is innate to our People.”

“Well don’t that all just tie up so nicely…and you arrive just as I’m about to get wasted by a Feeorin and my men mutiny on me…you think that might be a little too convenient?”

“There are no coincidences where the Aether is concerned, the Goddesses power is great, but not infinite, they are wise but not all knowing, they guided the flows to this point, likely from the very start with what strength they could after the Devastation robbed them of their children.”

“Wait I thought that red headed frell-box was your goddess Aeph…aeph…”

He still couldn’t say the Goddesses name forbidden to males as was fitting, a sign he still retained subconsciously something of his early youth.

“Lyaea is part of the Goddesses as all women are…but she is not he Goddess in isolation…her picture and those of others were spread across the galaxy to find the lost ones like you, it causes a deep seated reaction, a signal in the aether unique to our kind that we only now have the ability to detect across galactic distances,”

Melron made sure to be clear and detailed in his explanations, Blaze might be ignorant of the Peoples ways, but he was not a fool, one does not become captain of a Pirate destroyer without being a capable warrior and keen strategist.

“Ummm right so Aether if the Flow…or the Force….”

“Depending who you ask, it is the unifying thread between life forms, of this galaxy at least.” Melron agreed

“This galaxy?”

“We have encountered beings from others,”

“Sure…right little blue space jellies, frag me sideways…this is doing my head in…one moment I’m getting my arse handed to me next I’m…wherever this is…”

Melron had to concede it was a lot to take in.

“I shall leave you to rest, we will be home soon,”

<<<<>>>>

“I can’t imagine what he must’ve gone through…” Jarys said across the link orb from Aethas

“I barely coped on Nar Shadda as a trained Guardian at twenty…for a child of four or five,”

“I fear,” Milaea added from Aeda working on the Obelisks, “His will not be the worst of what has been suffered, I’m thankful he’s at least lucid, not completely given over to the violence of his upbringing,”

“Even has a sense of humour and good taste in music,” Lyaea smiled

“We’ll be back in about eighteen hours, taking the Cerebus Nova route to save time,” Melron went on,

“I don’t want to delay his reunion any more than necessary…”

“True…Maeson contacted us earlier, the others are still working on the lead deeper in Hutt space, it will only be us, Lydan and Adaea there when you arrive, but hopefully the others aren’t far off,”

“hmm…I will take him to the Shepherds village…based on his facial profile I think that is where he came from originally, perhaps it will stir memories in combination with regenerative healing,”

“If you need assistance with that let me know,” Milaea offered.

Blaze had grown undoubtedly without sufficient nutrition or other key inputs including the right type of gravity, atmosphere and radiation, a cursory assessment of his cellular function Lyaea had made indicated that while he had grown some key metabolic systems were suboptimal, and whilst he would recover over time naturally…they had no time to waste.

While unconscious Lyaea had begun correcting his organ’s and cellular systems while she repaired the main damage he suffered in the recent battle, work which Melron would continue as Blaze slept, though Milaea was the expert Melron felt confident he could perform this task…

And he needed to do it…to contribute to the healing as much as he could…to make up for his prior errors – not that he ever could fully.

“I will, and I’m sure the goddesses will work to repair him as soon as we reach home.”

There was much to be fixed, and Melron as determined not to lose this poor boy a second time.

Glancing briefly at the emerald nebulae outside as he calibrated for the next jump, he hoped the colour was a portent of renewal for all of them.

(https://i.ibb.co/H4KX4yv/destroyerorbit-9a-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/Sy6JygT)

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 14, 2020, 01:38:46 AM
Chapter 11 — Fires of Remembrance — Part 2
Blaze
(https://i.ibb.co/d2MxGcz/Blaze-dungeon.jpg) (https://ibb.co/d2MxGcz)
The Old Man had left him alone nearly an hour ago…apart from a strange small furred animal that looked at him inquisitively.

“What?”

The animal glanced to the fruit in his hand.

“You want this?”

Something about the way it perked up indicated ‘yes’

“Go get it,” he tossed it across the room, like a blaster bolt the little four legged thing vanished after it.

“What the Frell is going on…”

If they wanted to kill him…well he wouldn’t’ be here, if they wanted to torture him they had a weird way of doing it…as to their mad stories about genetic engineering, Goddesses, Jedi and rescuing lost People…

I have to get away from these lunatics…

After a waiting a few minutes he tentatively headed to the far door, the animals and trees for the most part ignoring him, a few creatures blinking in his direction. 

There was something familiar about the smells he had to admit…but distant, and irrelevant to his current needs.

To his surprise the large door simply swept open by motion sensor revealing a neat blue-grey corridor with oddly empty alcoves leading to a turbo lift directly ahead and branching off on either side.

He breathed in the cool unusually fresh air and dipped into the Flow trying to find a glimmer of where he needed to go…

Arms slightly out he felt for the minute tremors that indicated motion…they were there but subtle…smooth…this was a far more polished and sleek vessel than the Kyala which bounced like a Zeltron on a vibrator with every gravitational pulse.

Reaching out further he could only feel other bulbs of living energy behind him in the Nature deck and two others one above and ahead of him in the ship, the other above and a little further back…

one on the bridge one in the crew quarters most like…

The blooming Flow way finder in his mind directed him toward the rear, lines visible only in his minds eyes guided him to the turbo lift first.

The door opened with a gentle slide, there were only 10 buttons, trusting in the Flow he pressed the 9th.

The sudden whoosh nearly toppled him over, finally a lift for which the term ‘turbo’ was appropriate unlike the clanking counter weight driven ones on the Kyala

The door opened as swiftly as he moved, again there was a large double door opposite the turbo lift, double door design no doubt to make sure one couldn’t go straight from the turbo lift to the main areas on any given deck.

Of course no use when said door was unlocked.

The door opened to reveal a neatly apportioned ready room, an air lock across the room, to the side a stair case up to what he figured must be the hangar control room, an emergency medical station, a few crates, and on the left wall…

“Now we’re talkin’…”

Flight suits, weapons, and various gadgets that he couldn’t pick but looked damned expensive.

Pulling off his bandages and coarse shirt he noted his body was healing even faster than normal as he pulled on one of the larger flight suits – there were only two sizes and the smaller looked very feminine in the groin.

A sudden image of this Lyaea girl wearing something that tight flashed before his eyes….

Jaw rolling in supressed desire he paused before taking one of the rifles on the rack of nine.

“Frell…” the rifle was damn heavy…almost too heavy to lift, but it had some kind of magnetic lock that made it clamp to corresponding clips on the flight suit, the same with the pistols and sword.

All were made of weird heavy material he had never seen the like of, so dark it seemed to eat the light…he should be worried about it…but it was…familiar…almost natural to his touch.

In the flight pockets he stuffed whatever expensive gadgets he could, and then looked bemused at a pedestal with balls of the black material in two sizes arrayed in perfect three by three niches of large then small.

What are they for?

He had no time to worry, he raced across the room up the stair finding himself as expected in a control room overlooking a hangar bay.  There were four larger spear head shaped vessels on the almost mirror sheen polished bay floor, smaller dagger like vessels held above them in racks of six on each side. 

In the centre floor was a vast sealed and shielded door, obviously the hangar exit.

The control panels were all blue and white, only the odd green for colouring.  It was so clean and neat it looked brand new, the buttons all curved, sinuous, not blocky and square like any other ship he had seen.

He had no idea what each button did…he just let the Flow guide him.  The large blast door slowly slid open without a sound, the tunnel of hyperspace spiralling away behind the azure flicker of the atmosphere shields, the rim of the exit flanked by seriously deadly looking guns he’d never seen the likes of before, docking clamps released on one of the larger ships.

Sweeping down the stairs in a single bound he slapped the airlock open, it hissed and sprayed out gases that tasted unusually…Rich as if full of additives that were meant specifically to make him feel…stronger…

Then next door opened and he checked his broader Flow senses again…
Still the life forms were in the same place…

Odd never used the Flow like that…it’s never been so precise…

No time to contemplate he rushed to the unclamped ship.

“Perhaps you should contemplate it,” the honey like voice trickled from behind him.

He spun on is heels pulling both blasters…then tightened his grip as he felt them wrenched from his hands…but she wouldn’t be denied and they flew out of his grip.

Lyaea was sitting on a cargo rail on the wall between the airlock and the transparisteel of the control room

“That is very rude to pull a gun on me…good thing none are powered you might have hurt yourself,”

He simply shook his head before replying rhetorically

“How did I know you wouldn’t let me leave….”

“Oh I’m not going to stop you, you’ll do that yourself, and you’ll tell me why right now…”

Something tickled at his nose as she spoke his head felt light and clear, he shook his head trying to regain focus…or at least a sense of self,

“You’re right, I’m not gonna leave, no point, my ships blown, crew deserted me, what do I have to go back to apart from most likely getting…hey…”

His mind raced through the sequence of events

“Did you lot do this, set this whole thing up?”

“Pfft,” Lyaea blew her hair up the golden red locks gently wafting back into place in mesmerizing waves.

“If we’d been on Socorro sooner we would’ve just taken you from your bed rather than chasing you round like headless gopins, but now you were saying?”

Like that any suspicion he had vanished…

“Likely getting my head chopped and roasted for Ozrym to pick at if I go back…I’ll take my chances here,”

She moved closer, barely a hands breadth away

“And what ‘chances’ will you be taking next,” her smile playful and inviting as her scent trickled through his nose to cloud his head, squeeze his heart and further down...

“You know I’ve had tralks, schutta’s, whores, but never a Goddess…”

As he whispered his hands slowly moved toward her waist, fingers curling round to grasp…

“Gnnnhnnnng” he blurted out as he found himself once again upside, this time against the wall on the far side of the hangar from where Lyaea was standing.

“Too soon boy…too soon…” Lyaea sighed turning to leave as he skidded down the shield that numbed him with it electromagnetic pulses

“Oh yes and as promised,” she flicked her fingers as speakers across the room burst into music

Are you gonna take me home tonight?
Ah, down beside that red firelight
Are you gonna let it all hang out?
Black leather Girls
You make the rockin' world go 'round

<<<<>>>>

It was like a big wet wave had smashed against him.

At some point between eating and listening the Old Man randomly blather about ‘Traditions, People and genetic healing’ he felt them drop out of hyperspace - his senses growing more acute with each passing hour.

Out of nowhere the Aether – as his captors/caretakers called it – hit him warm and soft in a sickly controlling way that he ‘slid’ in the Flow to avoid its direct hit…but it was ubiquitous…he was sliding everywhere and couldn’t avoid it forever

But damn if I won’t try

The trip down he remained on the so called, “Nature Deck” until Lyaea returned to collect him a bag over her right shoulder and an ear bud linked to an i-holo on her belt in her left ear.

“We’re home lets go,”

He stood up from the strange gaggle of little furred ‘gobrils’ that seemed to multiply and then vanish in an instant adding to the sense of dis-reality.

He accepted now that he wasn’t actually dead or dying…hallucinating…maybe…but he had nowhere better to be, indeed it seemed as if his wish to break free from the chaos of a pirates life had been answered by these crazed Goddesses in their own bizarre way.

I want to break free

“What,” he asked
“I didn’t say anything,”
I want to break free…

“I want to break free of you lies your so…” he finished realising he was hearing the song from the ear bud hanging loose by her side.

“…self satisfied I don’t need you,” she went on eyeing him

“God knows sweet cheeks,” he winked as he followed her out.

There were four more ‘People’ waiting in the spacious hangar, two men and two women. 

“Well here he is!” Melron beamed as the two women approached

“He’s forgotten much, even his true name…but by his looks I think He’s from the Shepherd Village originally, calls himself ‘Blaze’ for now…a penchant for aetheric fire apparently,”

“Well welcome home Blaze,” a woman said to him, red hair like Lyaea tinged a slight brown

“I’m Milaea, this is Adaea,” the other woman shorter with brown hair and a smile like a brain dead twit.

“Yes welcome, here I made you this!” out of nowhere a bunch of leather and coarse clothes like the Old Man wore appeared in her hand and she shoved them into his chest

“They should fit, I’ve stitched them in a bit as you’re underweight, but we can open them back up once you are healthy again, Lydan…my husband…” she pointed to the younger looking of the men who wore simple worn leather clothes and held a wooden staff like a beggar,

“…has made sure to keep some gormin milk aside just for you,”

“ummm…great…” was all he could say as he felt the gaze of the other male standing toward the back arms across his chest.

You don’t survive long on Socorro or a Pirate Destroyer without getting a sense of who can handle themselves and who not to mess with…this guy ticked both categories.

Lyaea headed across to embrace Milaea and Adaea in greeting, kissing each on their cheeks,

“Not too much trouble?” Milaea asked
“No, just a few pirates, an extension of our mission with the Chiss in a way…”
<You seem a lot happier than before you left> Milaea noted privately among the women

<Much happier> Adaea agreed

<Just happy to have found another lost Person, I suppose I didn’t really believe this whole thing would work>

She parted with the women and headed to Lydan grabbing him tightly pressing close against him

Blaze felt a stab of jealousy at seeing the ‘Goddess’ of his dreams touching another man, one that, unbeknownst to him, every other Aethan in the room sensed immediately.

<Oh…so that is why you’re happy Lya!> Adaea squeaked <He’s got a crush on you!>

<Lust for me more like…for now…>

“How are you brother? How is the herd?” Lyaea said as she rocked in her brothers arms

“Better, and they are fine, a few more pregnancies,”

Brother… relief flooded for a moment…till he felt once more the other guy boring holes into him with his eyes and the Aether.

Milaea now moved to intercept,

“And this is my father Jarys,” she said leading Blaze over to the muscled statue of a man.

Just being near him Blaze felt incredibly small, like he would be stepped on without a second thought.

Suddenly the statue moved stretching out a hand, more out of habit than desire Blaze took it – Jarys pulled him into an embrace that nearly broke his spine.

“Welcome home, anything I can do to help you in your recovery I will,”

“Umm…thanks” Blaze squeezed out nearly dying in the giants grasp before he let go.  This was not a man Blaze ever desired to get on the wrong side of, even that Feeorin captain would have a tough time against this Jarys.

Milaea took Blaze hand as she lead him few steps away

“Here…a small gift to help you,” in it she placed a necklace of a deep blood red stone in an interlocking pattern,

“A Triquetra, made of Blood stone, if you need help just hold onto it and ask we can all hear it…it will also help knowledge flow more clearly to you,”

“That is a rare gift son,” Melron said nodding to Milaea, only women were typically permitted to wear the Triquetra, no doubt Milaea had consulted with the others for permission in light of the unique circumstances.

<My thanks Milaea> Melron said privately

<None necessary, I’ve enchanted it to passively monitor and stabilise his hormonal balances and metabolism, it can also trigger a sleep sequence to ensure you can work more fully on his healing when you need to>

<That will be useful my thanks>

The People briefly introduced themselves more fully noting their ‘roles’ or current tasks in the ‘Tribe’, Milaea appeared to be a healer of sorts, Adaea an engineer, Jarys builder and general guard as well as assisting Milaea with some kind of ‘Obelisk’, and Lydan,

“Lydan looks after the Gormin herds,” Adaea said looking up at her husband face beaming with pride

“Gormin…” the word was familiar…warm…

“Oh a genetically perfected Nerf and Bantha hybrid, Lydan is their shepherd,”

“Shepherd…herd…like a nerf herder…” Blaze said a dumbfounded expression on his face

“You’re literally a nerf herder,”

“Gormin, not nerfs” the ever ebullient Adaea beamed
“Isn’t it wonderful!”

“Ummm yeah…great…”

Frell me they fly bloody ultradense coated space ships and then go home and herd nerfs….

“So what happens now, what am I to do to ‘heal’?” he asked

“That is up to Melron, he will care for you,” Lyaea replied

Melron nodded “We’ll head into the Valley at sunrise, get you back to your real home,”

“Well, time to head home,” Lyaea noted

“Wait you’re not coming with us?” Blaze asked

“Of course not I have other things to catch up on, Melron will take care of you,”
Blaze felt more than a little miffed, so far Lyaea’s pretty face was what made sticking around worthwhile…no that he could probably leave if he wanted to now anyway.

Lyaea seemed to sense his disquiet

“But I will visit when it is appropriate, or you can visit us at the farm depending where your path takes you,”

As Lydan and Adaea said their goodbyes Milaea slid beside Melron
<Be cautious, this is much to take in for him…>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 14, 2020, 01:40:19 AM
 
Chapter 11 — Fires of Remembrance — Part 3

Blaze

“Frell me it’s hot…”

He’d never been outside…well planet-side outside…for so long in his life.  You couldn’t see the sky in the lower levels of Nar Shadda, and he rarely went to the light side anyway, and on Socorro you didn’t stay outside for more than a few minutes unless you were masochistic enough to enjoy the coarse red sand filling your nose.

Two weeks he’d been following the Old Man, his space pallid skin getting slightly darker each day, his hair reverting to natural brown as the bleaching faded out…

Something unnatural about that…pigment shouldn’t restore in hair follicles…wait how do I know that…aarrgh this whole place is cooky

The first few days they’d headed from the Mount fortress through the rugged alpine foothills, never had he felt so damn cold or smelt so many bloody trees…or been so tired…as large as the Kyala had been and as often as he’d been forced to run around loading crates, ammo and hauling stuff for the crew as a runt it was all flat apart from a few stairs, nothing like the sloping mountains.

They’d headed past the Mountain Village where a few of the other People lived like bloody savages in wood and stone huts around central fires. 

Blaze couldn’t figure it, they had this fancy as anything fortress in the mountain, clean ships that any pirate would envy and they lived in wooden huts! 

As they wandered the alpine forests the Old Man would tell him stories constantly about why this tree was important, why that mountain or hill was named this or that.  As they’d wandered an old path crunching light snow and wet leaves he felt eyes on him all around…

“Vorynx,” the Old Man said pausing and kneeling to smell the air and reach out with the aether trying to guide Blaze to do the same.

He resented the ‘push’ into his head and pushed back just as he was pushing against the ever determined ‘Flow’ of this whole planet trying to suffocate him.

Even so the sense of being watched was unnerving and he yielded out of a sheer need to know what had eyes on him.

Slowly he found the profiles of the large animals, yellow eyes glinting between rugged brown trees.

“They’ll stay at a distance…they know there’s no gain in trying to hunt us,”

“Nice to feel wanted…” was his only reply.

The next stop was a large abandoned village…large and familiar as if something he’d seen in a dream.  The Old Man had noted how slowly he walked a slight hopefulness in his presence…

Presence… Blaze had never felt someone’s presence before with the Flow, or aether…whatever he wanted to call it…each day though he seemed more…aware of it, more in tune with it…and the temptation to just let the building pressure of its power flow through him greater and greater.

They paused at a statue of black and blood red stone surrounded by nine blue flamed scones.

“That fire…”

“Like yours isn’t it son, or rather yours is like it, that is the inheritance of our people, to turn the aether to flame, lighting, motion, thought, memory…to use it anyway we can imagine…”

The torches blazed azure light that cast the sculptured faces into strong contrast, the flickers of the flames seeming to flow luminous tears down the central woman - the Goddess - face. Beneath her cradled in her arms were three figures, two women and a male, fallen and broken.

“They represent those lost to us in the Devastation, including you son, taken, tormented, and now in need of healing.”

He had never been sentimental – there was no time to be when every day was a fight for food scraps and keeping yourself from being beaten to death at the hands of the violent urges of a half sane pirate…but the thought this was a monument to his suffering was affecting…

…so much so that after a few minutes he couldn’t look at the statue anymore

“Can we get moving now to….wherever the hell we’re going,”

Melron nodded
“To the Shepherds old village on the plains, hopefully there you will remember who you really are,”

Anger born of grief he could not find a way to express snapped back at the Old Man

“I know who I am Old Man, I know what I am, and I ain’t what you want me to be, and I never will be,”

He hadn’t even noticed he was right up in his face finger pointed under the Old Man’s chin

“Yet you’re still here son,”

“And I’m NOT your son,”

“I know…” the reply barely a whisper as Melron hung his head

“I wasn’t there when the slavers came, fell into despair after they left, failed to change, to adapt, indulged the endless appetite for grief instead letting it feed on itself.  Grief for the loss of my wife before the Devastation, my friends and other family after.  I never had a son, or daughter, and I admit I hope to be a father to you as I couldn’t be to the others during those years I locked myself away…if only to redeem myself and fulfil my need to have progeny…and that is unfair on you.”

The Old Man turned away then as if he too could not bear to look upon the monument to the People’s suffering for the remainder of his own failures it brought.

“If you want me gone I will leave, Jarys or Milaea can teach you better than I can anyway.”

The grief, the guilt was like a mountain even amidst those that bordered this Valley, and it bore down on Blaze in a way that was…not painful…but uncomfortable…he felt…for the first time in his life for anyone or anything…sympathy.

Hundred’s he’d killed, beaten, sold, stabbed…never did he feel the slightest hint of remorse or concern, there was no place for it in the life he lead…and…on reflection every other being no matter how close…Bjen as a half father, Doon as dumb guard, a dozen whores as pleasure fodder…he always felt apart from them…but with the Old Man and Lyaea…even the others after their brief meeting he felt something.

And it scared him to feel even in part what they did, to care. He wanted the feeling gone.

“That true Old Man you ‘fail the People?’”

“I did,”

“huh…so this is why you’re so frantic, you want to make up for it…and you know you can’t, that bitch is already dead…good to know you’re as frelled as I am.”

They had spoken little after that as they wound out of the village and back to the roads, but slowly the Old Man began his tales again as they crossed streams, repairing the odd rope bridge.

A week into the trip the food they had packed was gone and the Old Man began showing him how to live off the land, they picked fruits and berries, dug out mushrooms.

In all cases there was a trick, you needed to use the Aether – everything on this planet was alive with it…or unusually absent of it.

You couldn’t just take an berry, the plant would release a so called Malacia aetheric attack making Blaze for the first time experience the need to vomit till the Old Man showed him how to ‘slide’ the attack away from himself, mushroom would be charged with aetheric energy and near on burn your hand off to the touch, the Old Man again showed him how to draw the aetheric energy into himself safely then discharge it at his whim.

They hunted Goyruts, mountain animals with long legs and sharp horns that could run near on vertically up the cliff faces.  Blaze had figured it would be no trouble at all…if he had a blaster…instead he had first to find decent wood to fashion a bow, feathers for arrows…then work out how to sneak up on the Goyruts without them sensing him…

By the time he did he was already frustrated…two days and every time he got near them they’d vanish up the mountain or round boulders or trees…he felt a burning annoyance that such a dumb animal could outwit him.

This time as he lay prone shrouded by a bush he had them though…notching the arrow- pains in the arse they were to make – he slowly drew lining up the small curve under the neck where the arteries were…he had to ‘charge’ the arrow a little with the aether or it wouldn’t be strong enough to breach the hide – doing that had given him away last time but he was more subtle this time.

Drawing back silently he held for a second, checked his target then loosed.

The arrow slashed the air straight and true…

Then shattered halfway to the goyrut

“The Frell!!!” he cried as they ran off again “I had it dead to rights!”

“They have their defences too…” the Old Man seemed uncertain for a moment then said it anyway “…son.”

“Why are we bothering with this dren, why not just grab blaster and lace em, or better still got to a damn Kwik-Z-Mart,”

“You’re the captain of a ship,” the Old Man replied firmly “you always have all the weapons you wanted, your guns always fully charged in every battle?”

Blaze eyes narrowed as he saw the parallel

“No, you adapted to your targets, now how would you go about taking down a ship with responsive shielding like that?”

The next time he got it right, he climbed a ledge some distance away and kept above the herd, then primed two arrows silently – the first shattered against the shield, the second mere millimetres to the side got through – just as he would have taken a ship with reflex shields- hi them close with one turbo laser then fire another milliseconds after to get through the brief impact flicker.

Sitting beside the fire that night…it was the first time Blaze felt…at ease as he ate, actually getting to enjoy what he was tasting rather than just shoving down the food before anyone else could take it off him, or worried it was poisoned or rotten.

He still, honestly, didn’t know what he was doing here or why, what they really wanted from him or why…but for now at least he felt, for the first time…

Something other than cold terror and anxiety that any moment would be his last.

They had headed ever further from the mountain fortress after that, more stories more scrounging for food.  The Old Man now began to ask Blaze tangentially about things he had done, by again referring to how he might catch an animal or work round a block in the road

“If this were a ship…” or “If this were on Socorro…” “If you were hunting a similar target…”

It was the first time anyone had ever showed any interest in what he thought…apart from simply asking for orders ‘What now ‘Boss’ or the like…at first he was suspicious but the Old Man was growing on him, and he began to answer.  The Old Man always listened, asked brief clarifying questions but never probed uncomfortably.

Finally they left the canopy covered tracks to areas beneath the open sky.

The stars were brighter and more colourful than anything Blaze had seen, so close to the core they shone with freshness and life, nova’s and gas clouds of different colours packed in…the immensity only exceeded by the Old Man’s tales of what each constellation was – invariably it was some daughter of the Goddess or their bow, sword…handkerchief…and how they moved in relation to the seasons.

Blaze had never seen the stars as anything more than the gaseous blazing inferno’s they were, places to plunder or plonk down at. He sneered that they could attribute any meaning to the random patterning of the dots of light based purely on Aethas position…

Yet could not deny the sense of familiarity as he looked up and listened to the tales of Alixaea, the favoured daughter fighting the trolls, entering the underworld.

“You don’t think this stuff actually happened did you?” Blaze asked incredulously lying back on the overgrown grass staring up.

“Have you not travelled the stars, delved beneath the surface of a planet, flown through the rings of a gas giant, hurled fire with your hands,” the Old Man replied

“Is the tale of a woman fighting a Serpent the size of a planet with the lighting from her finger tips so unbelievable when you’ve seen a Space worm yourself?”

“I guess not…maybe it’s the way you tell the story…like it’s happening now and yet far away,”

“It is son, with every retelling that memory, those moments live again, that’s why, though our People may be lost and scattered they are never truly gone while we remember.”

The Old Man sat up straighter. 

“I’ll take the first watch…I smell the Vorynx in the air…and tomorrow we’ll visit Lyaea’s home,”

Blaze perked up at that, replying with faux indifference

“Whatever Old Man,”

<<<<>>>>

Melron
(https://i.ibb.co/xj3xLXf/Melron-R5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/xj3xLXf)
Blaze slept soundly and deeply, all six conscious levels at rest…meanwhile his subconscious mind was buzzing with activity.

Every day his Aethenaea Cortex was passively taking in knowledge, even if at a slower rate than Melron would like.

Blaze still resisted the full embrace of the aether, self-protective no doubt, but it was delaying his healing and recovery.  Melron needed to find a way to get him to fully open…but did not want to push.

He shifted over to sit above Blaze, the triquetra Milaea had given him around his neck jostling with the teeth of Blaze former victims. 

The triquetra’s aetheric enchantment was working at all times to supress Blaze’s more aggressive impulses and avoid sudden hormonal changes, it kept him pliant and peaceful, and pushed him into a deep sleep so Melron could continue the work.

With each meal Blaze put on weight, and each night Melron used the raw resources to repair more cellular systems.

His finger lit with healing red light that arced over the boy’s body, delving deeply, seeking out new systems to activate or refine, to switch from their malformed activation patterns to natural states, enabling protein production and enzymes that had been docile in the absence of sufficient nutrition…and most important of all repointing and enabling brain functions that had atrophied without appropriate stimulation as a child and teenager.

He triggered the regrowth of empathy centres that had never developed for there were no People to empathize with and Outsiders – no matter how caring – could never trigger their activation. It required a unique combination of aetheric, visual and scent stimuli to properly develop.  Melron improved sound sensory and interpretation networks to ensure Blaze could comprehend regular Aethan cadence, reduced the fight nexus and sympathetic nervous system adrenal glands that had grown abnormally large in response to a life of constant violence.

Melron recalled the conversation they had had shortly after the activation of the Obelisks,

“It’s clear from experience we may find People severely damaged, traumatised…we must heal them comprehensively where needed,” Valens had explained

“Altering their brain chemistry…” Milaea deduced immediately

“Where it is necessary, where they have been subject to severe damage, such as Lydan, or abnormal growth patterns,”

“Lydan…was a special case…those combat drugs they forced into him were despicable, but to change others Peoples neural networks that have adapted with high plasticity to their environment…it would change who they are…”

“Milaea makes a good point our experiences define us…” Jarys agreed “who are we to re-write a Persons sense of self,”

“We need not go too far,” Kiraea countered siding with Valens as she often did

“But think about it my love,” she spoke directly to Milaea whose expertise was needed to enact the plan

“What is more dangerous to themselves and others, an Aethan whose repaired to a more average baseline neurological pattern, or one left with extremes of – in all likelihood – violent or submissive tendencies,”

Milaea had thought for nearly 30 seconds after that – a long time for an Aethan to pause.

“That’s…true…but we can be subtle about it, only repair excessive damage where it’s needed for their own safety…

“We’ll let the goddesses guide us” Kiraea affirmed

Melron knew here, in the Valley the Goddesses were doing just that.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 14, 2020, 01:40:51 AM
Chapter 11 — Fires of Remembrance — Part 4

Lyaea
(https://i.ibb.co/59L909D/Lya-R3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/59L909D)
Despite knowing from the aether they weren’t nearby she couldn’t help looking out the window hoping she would spy them coming over the rise.

“Excited?” Adaea asked knowing the answer

“hmmm…a little I suppose,”

“A lot I reckon!”

Lyaea’s mouth scrunched most un-prettily

“Well he’s interesting…different…and likes Queen…”

She turned away from the window to slump back on the floor amidst the pile of Blackstone orbs they were programming for the Obelisk Array.

“But he’s too…” she shrugged and grimaced not knowing how to express the sense

“Wild, dangerous…damaged…” Adaea sighed her fingers alight with quick needle point precise motions programming the filtering orbs.

Gentle and meek as Adaea usually was she could be quite blunt, especially at her new home where she had taken to being the Lady of the House following her marriage.

“I suppose…though it is kind of exciting…pfff…” she blew her hair from her eyes

“He seems like fun…like we could have fun that is…but after what he has been through…”

“You should be cautious…”

There was nothing hidden between them, Adaea very well aware Lyaea wanted something more than friendship from a man…but only the right one…

“And for now…he’s still just a boy…”

<<<<>>>>

As soon as they crested the ridge she leapt up checking her hair and outfit, it was a plain traditional dress, homespun cream coloured.

Adaea merely smiled and headed to the door as they came down the path.

She noticed the change immediately, the bleach blonde hair was nearly gone, his face which had been ghostly white from living in space before was now tinged pink, it would not doubt settle to the slightly darker skin most men had in time and lost the irritation it was obviously experiencing under the Aethan sun.

Blaze looked calmer, more settled, but still had a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Hello Melron, Blaze…unless you have a different name…” Adaea said uncertain

“Still Blaze,” he replied slightly puffing, whilst not unfit when they found him it would take time to get up to the other men’s level.

“Adaea, Lyaea, may we visit,” Melron asked formally, even though as a Guardian he had permission to enter any house.

“You may,” Adaea giggled at the formality

“Lydan will be back at sunset with the herd’s,” she said leading them inside the long house, the fire in the centre, walls covered with tapestries and embroidery, off to the left a door to the rooms and to the right the kitchen and store.

“There is your seats…” Adaea pointed to the guest spot near the fire where she’d already laid out earthen mugs and a small plate of berries and seeds.

“What are all those…” Blaze asked pointing to the dozen orbs lying about

“Oh those are for the Obelisk array, filtering devices that channel out non-People-sequenced aetheric patterns and amplify signals with rhythmic consistency to Aethan standard presence patters…it’s how we found you,” Adaea explained

“Right…well that explains it…” he replied not understanding a word

“Good!” Adaea not comprehending sarcasm,

Blaze looked to Lyaea who just shrugged

“So you like playing with balls too?” he asked a hint of a smile on his lips.

Lyaea sneered rolling her eyes at the pathetic double entendre.

“Only full sized ones,” she replied in a cringe worthy tone, the innuendo lost on the literal Adaea and traditionally minded Melron.

“How are you enjoying being back home?” Adaea asked

“Oh it’s great, lots of fresh air and singing Kuum-Baya round the campfire, be painting each others toes nails next,”

“Oh that sounds like fun!” Adaea beamed becoming more comfortable, Blaze just sighed.

The afternoon passed quickly, Adaea attempting to show Blaze how the filtering orbs worked, while Blaze tip toed around insult with cynical or innuendo laced comments only Lyaea with her greater understanding of Outsider culture understood…indeed he seemed to be trying to share secret jokes with her.

Lydan returned just as the sun set, Blaze noting his arrival bluntly as the door opened

“Hutt’s breath what it that smell?”

“Hello My Love!” Adaea beamed rushing to her husband leaping up wrapping arms and legs around his now solid muscular frame, unworried by the stains on his smock.

“Bloody hell…” Blaze noted as the young married couple kissed passionately, Lyaea and Melron, indifferently continuing to program Orbs.

“…work hard, play hard…get hard…”

Lyaea sensed out his thoughts, it seemed Blaze had no problem with the open display of affection – he’d seen far more soiled and explicit beings in the dives of Socorro going at it…it was the nature of the affection, the mutual bond between Lydan and Adaea that was caring and supportive and non-exploitative that was novel to him.

“Evening brother,” Lyaea said as they broke apart, “The tanning is going well,”

Lydan nodded
“Very well, we’ll have three hides ready by the end of the week,”
As the herd had grown and some Gormin had passed from old age Lydan had rebuilt the old tannery and was working there on his way back from the grazing.

“Welcome to you too Blaze,” Lydan said

“Yeah thanks, nerf herding going well?”

“Gormin herding, yes, the herd is growing, more young taking the place of the old, the cycle continuing,” the shepherd replied

“As it should be,” Melron noted, Lyaea sensing the analogy in Melron’s mind that he was cycling out…and perhaps teaching Blaze was his effort to balance the cycle young for old.

The dinner was hearty and simple, again Blaze subtly teasing at poor Lydan even as her oblivious brother with his adoring wife explained the intricacies of preparing the hides and leather.

Soon after the evening fires were lit Lyaea extended Blaze an offer,

“Come on I’ll show you the sites nearby,”

The pair headed out over the nearby hill and Lyaea hit her iholo to add some music

“Finally a bit of civilization,” Blaze grinned,

“Here is some more,” she reached into her small pack to throw two candy bars to him,

“Huh never seen one completely wrapped before…” he mentioned before taking a bite

“So…how are you finding it here, really?”

“Oh it’s great, never knew so many people could have ‘aea’ at the end of their name…” he replied wryly

“Ha…still you wouldn’t rather be back to piracy…”

Blaze seemed to think for a minute

“Never had it so peaceful…sometimes…doesn’t feel right you know, like this is all a dream…or feels empty, there’s no action, no motion…used to a ship ploughing through hyperspace not a ball of dirt slowly turning…and it’s so…quiet…I mean all the animals I can hear them more and more…but it’s not like the banter, the insults on the ship…”

Lyaea frowned
“So you would rather be gone,”

“Didn’t say that,” Blaze replied suddenly defensive
“It’s just…different is all…”

He relaxed back

“Plus getting to see you in the flesh instead of just printed on a pamphlet…maybe one day you’ll show me some of the Rite of the Goddess…”

“Oh,” she said surprised “and what makes you think that,”

His eyes glinted with a touch of lust in the strong purple light of the stars

“C’mon sweet cheeks, we both know you’re dripping and I’m up for it,”

“And what is it?” she said coyly

“Well,” he whispered stepping close dropping the empty candy wrapper

“Let me…”

Vooosh

Once more Blaze fund himself flying upside down away from her into a tree.

Lyaea sighed at his impatience…and littering.

“Too soon again boy…” she said wandering up to him kneeling as he stared from upside down pinned to a tree by a half level of consciousness on her part.

“I’ll admit, I find you attractive, interesting, we share a taste in music, senses of humour…”

She sighed her breath straight into his nose, knowing full well there would be trace pheromones on it

“But you’re still just a boy…and I don’t know you…really know you…and you don’t know me either…”

She leaned back as he clumsily righted himself shaking off the disorientation of his sudden motion.

“…perhaps when you know both of those things we can talk…”

“Yeah well it’d be easier if I didn’t spend half my time flying through the air…gonna work out how you do that one of these days…” he replied pulling leaves from his rough shirt.

“Right I don’t know you so tell me, tell me how you ended up where you are?”

“Well...” she said sitting down beside him as the night winds off the distant mountains began to close in cold,

“I was taken too in the Devastation, to Nar Shadda, put in a cage, separate from my family…no idea what was happening…I was only seven, surrounded by monsters that gawked at me and took the other girls away one by one…”

Her face drew long in bitter memory, body slightly shivering Blaze took off his shirt and put it round her almost touching her.

“Aesaea, Nyaea, Shilea, Cilina, Laela…I thought the monsters were eating them, imagined all sorts of strange things trying to make sense of it…but there was no senses to be made…I just crawled into the corner and tried to hide…but whenever more buyers came they zapped me out to look me over…”

But no one took me away…I was happy in one way I didn’t want to go with the monsters, but at the same time sad, there were less and less others with me and I didn’t want to be alone…I imagined they were all bing taken home and I was being left behind…eventually there was only myself and Adaea left but then…then Kiraea came…

I remember the feeling of elation to see one of us on the other side of the glass…and the look in her eyes, the cold fury as she ‘bought’ us back…tempered by brittle anger she couldn’t get more…we were together…but still lost in a galaxy we couldn’t understand…I was scared of the refresher, I thought there was sea monster trying to suck me in…scared of everything…Adaea reacted by being quiet and shy, I reacted by breaking things, throwing tantrums…Kiraea did her best but she was only 16 herself…she had an outsider – Colm – under her control but still everything was just….crazy…going to school, university…I learned how to be in the galaxy but not part of it, learning the ways of the aether from Kiraea learned how to be People…but not here at home was not part of it either…didn’t belong to one side or the other…just riding the waves of chaos

I guess it’s why my holo channel is called Whacked Galaxy…and filled with things I find bizarre and strange…because even now, the whole galaxy is whacked, everything in it is bizarre…nothing can be taken seriously, perhaps I’m an anarchistic absurdist at heart.”

She stared out into the purple and blues of the sky as yellow pulses danced deeper in the core a million year ago as the next track ticked over on the iholo

Open up your mind and let me step inside
Rest your weary head and let your heart decide


“Never really tell anyone all that before did you?” he said quietly picking out the constellations the Old Man had shown despite himself, the yellow blooms were the lights of Alixaea’s arrows hitting the hydra.

“Only my mother,”

“Then why me now? The others have their own sob stories to odon’t they?”

It's so easy when you know the rules
It's so easy


“I don’t know…perhaps easier talking to a stranger my own age…Milaea is younger in years but….”

She sighed breath frosty as the late winter cold set in

“guess I don’t feel so lonely around you,”

When your feeling down and your resistance is low
Light another cigarette and let yourself go


“Sucks…” he said after a long pause

“Life that is…a bitch then you die, no one gets out alive and all that dren…but you just keep at it….”

“Look at me, I was a captain, trying to make my credits, make my name, break out from the Hutts…the whole time knowing sooner or later the crew would mutiny or earn a death mark….”

This is your life, don't play hard to get
It's a free world


“So took what I could while I could, forget about yesterday what’s done is done ain’t it?  You gotta do the same sweet cheeks,”

He tentatively shifted closer not desiring another trip to the tree upside down, feeling now the chill himself even used to the cold of space as he was.

“Take the warmth and screw the cold right out,”

My game of love has just begun
Love runs from my head down to my toes


“ha…practical advice, Kiraea would agree,” she giggled enjoying how close he was….shifting a little closer herself physically as she just had emotionally.

My love is pumping trough my veins
Driving me insane


“We should go back, no doubt Melron will have you up before the sun,”

Play the game, play the game
Play the game everybody play the game of love


 
<<<<>>>>

 
Blaze
“Gooooorrrrrrmmmmm,”

His eyes remained heavily shut as he pushed the hard pillow over his ears…he was just getting used to actually sleeping…

“Gooooorrrmmmm”

Now this…

“What. The. Frell. Is that sound.” He pushed up from the guest ‘bed’ which was a rug and pillow on the floor about the main fire place.

“The gormin, time to leave,” the Old Man said standing near the door,

“Great what we got to eat,”

“Adaea left some fruits and seed bars before she and Lyaea left,”

No Blaze awoke fully

“They left already,”

The Old Man nodded
“To deliver the Orbs’s…”
Now Blaze tried he could sense the absences of the flow sucking objects in the room
“We’ll head out with Lydan as far as twin hill,”
“Great morning with the nerf’s.”

Up until that point Blaze had not seen a Gormin, they had been in the barns the night before…wandering out of the house, danw light barely a candle over the mountains he stopped at the sight of the furred animals, terrified as a small one ran up to him stubby legs pushing through thick orange and red furs.

Bomo…

“That’s right,” Lydan off to the side
“That is little Bomo, Momo’s calf,” the rounded animal pushed at Blaze legs which felt incredibly wobbly

He had seen these animals before had…had…

Melron eyed him from the side, the flickers of a memory touching kindling in Blazes mind.

A morning much like this, wisps of pollen on the air, a man kneeling beside a Gormin so he could look the boy in the eye,
“You’re a big boy now son, you know many things and are very clever, I want you to share that by looking after little Bomo here,” the man patted the small Gormin

“Weeely?” the boy asked

“Of course, we care for the gormin and they care for us, you’ll need to feed Bomo, cut his fur when it gets too long, take him to the river to drink each morning, but then you can play together in the upper fields,”


He swallowed back the afterimages of a life he’d had to supress even as the little Gormin nuzzled his leg.

“We moving or what,” Blaze snapped away his discomfort.

Lydan shared a look with Melron, Blaze though he heard a whisper of some kind…he still couldn’t pick the way they spoke telepathically, whatever was said, Lydan spoke next

“Of course this way,”

<<<<>>>>

Again the heat assailed him, he was puffing after what seemed like hours of running.

Lydan like the Old Man walked faster than him and showed no such fatigue. Blaze was not unfit, certainly not compared to the rest of his crew had been…it seemed rather the Aethans on this world were in their element.

Behind them was a veritable army of 232 Gormin, most juveniles or calves, a few scarred older ones in a circle about them, all following Lydan and his shepherd’s staff without a word or question.

They walked through neatly cut – or rather eaten, grass lands to other fields where the grasses were high and yet to be grazed.

“These are the grazing lands,” Melron noted as the crested the rise to see vast plains of wind swept grasses intersperse by wooden hills, the sapphire blue river running through.

“Before the Devastation near on 10,000 Gormin would graze the pastures each day returning to the homesteads by the creeks and river each night…”

The Old Man paused for a moment to let Blaze catch his breath

“Any of this look familiar?”

“Should it?”

“Not for me to say son.” Melron left the thought and pointed to a small block of houses even he could only just make out within a copse for shade

“There is the shepherd’s villages, where we are headed, where I think your home was before,”

Lydan finally settled on a large grassy hill with his flock before they took a break chewing down the dried fruits and warm milk, like all the food here it was more filling than anything Blaze had eaten, little Bomo wandered up and plonked itself beside him, he idly ran his fingers through the gormins furs….and combined with the quiet rumble of the grazing animals and shuffling sound of wind through long grass he felt almost at peace…quiet…the warmth of the aether edging at him offering him escape if he just fell into it…

But he held back…ever since he arrived he had not fully allowed that sickly warm feeling in…it was getting tiring, he wondered if that wasn’t part of his exhaustion.


“Time to part ways,” Melron stood up
“Thank you Lydan, and thank Adaea for me for the food,” he patted his leather rucksack.

“You’re welcome, I hope you find yourself again Blaze…” Lydan shifted over to sit beside him.

“I know what it’s like to be…lost…injured…apart from everything and confused…”

“Yeah what’s your story then?” Blaze eyed the nerf herder

“I was taken like you, made to fight, to kill, mutilated…” Lydan looked across as he sensed movement in the nearby trees, eyes sharpening to see if it was Vorynx of Vosis…it appeared not to be.

“I found healing here, with the Gormin, with our People, in the arms of our Goddesses…” he reached out to ruffle the happily groaning Bomo’s shaggy ears,

“Let yourself find the same,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 14, 2020, 01:43:27 AM
 
Chapter 11 — Fires of Remembrance — Part 5

Blaze
(https://i.ibb.co/HXdjdwD/Blaze-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/HXdjdwD)
The next few days they took a slower pace, each twist in the long since abandoned road causing Blaze to pause and more and more images flashed sparks of reminisce in his mind

Each time the Old Man tried to tease the details out of him but he couldn’t share…wouldn’t share…it was as if to do so were to admit something terrible – to admit the life he had lived for some many years was an aberration…and what did that then make him but a living joke.

That normally wouldn’t have bothered Blaze, his life had been violent chaos and desperate scratching that left no room for pride, just rolling with the insanity of the galaxy….but something now made him feel he needed to be worth something to himself so he could be worth something to Lyaea…something more than a curious playmate to send hurtling against trees upside down.

He tried to shake it, but she’d done something to him, ever since he first saw her picture…he wanted her of course, but not like he’d wanted girls before…he wanted her as a woman…and wanted to be worthy of that.

They came upon the empty wooden huts of the village, moss on wooden log walls, turf rooves overgrown, linens and shade clothes torn by weather, gardens spilled out across path ways with new growth.

He knew this place.

“Familiar son?”

“Maybe…” he whispered

At first he thought it was the place alive with the aether, but it was his own hands, they trembled and shook as he wandered toward one house on the edge of the village old dried leaves and triquetra totems on the outside.

“This…was Scintaea’s house…I went there when I was sick…”

Melron nodded himself remembering

“Scintaea was a seior, wise woman of the village for many years…do you know what happened to her?”

“She…” he felt a lead weight in his stomachs

“…wouldn’t let them take us…would rather die than….”

Melron gripped the younger man’s shoulder supportively, the memory flowing freely in the aether to him…she had understood the fate that awaited them and decided a quick death preferable to a life of suffering…he could not fault the decision, considering what happened to Blaze, Lydan and the others it was likely the more merciful choice.

“It’s alright Son, let it out…”

Blaze shook his head stifling back the tears even as he pushed against the press of the warm aether, the Goddesses desperate to comfort their lost son, but still he resisted.

“Bitch left me behind…” he sneered with congested nasal tones
“left me to…”

“To live son, you lived…”

“I wish I hadn’t…” he broke from Melrons grip and headed forward legs trembling with each step as he caught the sight of the corner of a building, old wind chimes with faded ribbons once Brown and Green, what had been his families colours….

“Your home son?”

Blaze nodded then shook

“Our…house in the village that was my mother’s…there was another…the farm house on the fields my fath…”

His voice broke along with his body, he crimpled to his knees, Melron soon beside him.

“I can’t I’m not…that’s not me…not my life…”

“It was son, you’re still that child, still of the People, those times, and those after they’re both you, when you reconcile yourself to yourself then you will begin your recovery…come let’s go inside…”

“NO!” he pushed out surprising Melron with his speed, his physical recovery had been impressive with a more suitable diet.

“I’m not…I don’t want this anymore!” he spun and ran.

<<<<<>>>>

He ran hot and hard, panting, exhausted, trying to out speed the press of the aether and the growing heat of his memories.

The path he raced along was familiar, the carved trees and bridges over babbling creeks old friends he had seen a dozen times.

He couldn’t seem to escape it….any of it…

He had wanted to get away from being a pirate…had secretly longed for the day a mutiny saw him gutted and drinking the nepenthe of oblivion…

Instead he was in a surreal afterlife where the woman of his dreams was constantly tantalizingly out of reach, the reality of his past pushing to break free and sweep away the man…boy…he was…

Knees near on hit his chin as he pounded up the incredibly steep hill, the physical, aetheric and psychological exhaustion reaching a peak as he crested the top and fell into the endless waves of long grass prickly with seed stalks.

The lost child lay prostrate before a Sacred tree on the steepest peak among the graze lands…the trunk carved into the three Goddesses, their arms interlocked they gazed  across the rolling pains in all directions, old offering bowls and totems scattered among weather ruined blankets at the foot.

The vague pressure of the aether that had surrounded him ever since he entered the system now seemed to be coming from one point…this tree.

Slowly,
Inch by inch
Tense by muscle tense he pushed himself to face the Goddesses.

Their wooden visages were more animated and alive than the vast majority of being he’d seen in the death stick stench bars of Socorro, sucking beings for a day’s pay in the brothels of Nar Shadda, or in resigned chains loading the same mass-reactive cannons in the bowels of a destroyer.

They looked at him even as their ‘hand’ extended toward him.

He had been here before…multiple times…not looking up at the face but down…

But how could he look down on them when a child?

Only when held high on his father and mothers shoulders as they showed him the plains below

“See all the Gormin, that is our herd, passed from my grandmother, from her grandfather, down to my mother and to me, one day to you, and then your son or daughter...we care for them…”
“..And they care for us…”

They all would gather at the change of seasons, water sprinkled on new babies heads before the Goddesses, oaths of betrothal made with happy handshakes.  Children ran about the summit with their young Gormin, the adults looking over the calves deciding on trades of heifers and bulls that would strengthen everyone’s herd and prevent inbreeding.

It was another world, a world of peace and calm Blaze could never imagine, but the world that He had been born into.

He couldn’t hold the tide back anymore, the concerned faces of the Goddesses pleaded with him to accept their help, to return to them and to himself.

The fires of remembrance could be stilled no longer, they overcame his fear, the deep cold barrier that had suppressed them so he could survive the horrors of the Outsiders galaxy.

As that magma frothed from within the heated waves of the Goddesses covered him from without.

Time passed…how long he didn’t know…before the Old Man finally caught up with him.

The younger man was standing naked upon the hill top, body still lean and crisscrossed with slowly fading scars.

“Son…Blaze are you…”

“Not Blaze,” the young man cut him off.

“Taryn,”
<<<<>>>>

Lyaea
With a hint of a smile she stalked around the empty village carefully creeping toward her target.

Over the thatched rooves and under broken fences she slid to the only ‘occupied’ house through a long since broken window.

It was unnecessary to be so veiled in her approach, but she liked surprising people, and it was good practice for her technique now she didn’t spend as much time taking things from shops as she had as a teenager on Commenor…thy were fun times, using the aether to distract or outright send made customers and store owner to swipe what she wanted while Adaea kept a look out under Kiraea’s guidance.

“Outsiders are just like plants, if we see nice berries we pick them…but like plants at home you have to watch out for malacia, electrical or telekinetic attacks!” Kiraea had said. 

Looking back she realised now it was, unconsciously, a way of ‘taking back’ from the outsiders who had taken so much from them as well as training in the absences of the native flora and fauna of Aethas that resisted being picked. 

Sounds and light supressed by the aether she crawled up behind as he crouched looking through an old chest.

“Taryn!”

“FRELL!”

He nearly leapt out as skin as she pinched his sides in surprise as she rolled about laughing

“Oh…you…frell what are you trying to do give me a heart attack?”

“Aethans can’t have heart attacks silly,” she replied between giggles at the sight of his face

“Our hearts squeeze gently across the twelve chambers not pump or beat or contract whatever like silly four chambered human ones,”

“Well common turn of phrase, still shouldn’t sneak up like that, next time I might shoot first ask who later,”

“Ha you couldn’t hit me if you tried Taryn

“You heard about that,”

“Everyone heard about that, I came to congratulate you on rediscovering you name…if not fully who you are quite yet…so what is in the box?”

“Oh this, old clothes and stuff that belong to…” he swallowed as the next words came unnaturally

“My mother…”

“hmmm…” Lyaea peered inside, various sewing and knitting tools, threads and wool, pieces of clothing that had never been repaired, and an old small well used blanket.

“This…” she took the blanket out, “Would’ve been yours…” she sniffed it
“Definitely yours…when you were a baby…here feel it…”

He rubbed it between his fingers

“No feel it…”

Taryn rolled his eyes and reached out with the aether

She felt the connection immediately, the chimes of a gentle aetheric lullaby infused in the blanket that reacted to his presence, it was clearly having a deep effect on him…too much so, he let go of it in a hurry.

“Cute,” he tried to dismiss then pivoted the conversation
“So what are you really here for, not just to wish me well on my ‘name day’?”

He leaned back against the wall with a cocksure grin,
“Something else you wanted to do?”

“Just wanted to meet Taryn for the first time in person,”

“Oh and what do you think of him?” Taryn smiled

“I think…” she sauntered up to him and ran her hand over his chest
“He’s much more attractive than Blaze was…not as…frazzled but still has a rogues charm…,”

Just as he leaned toward she spun round, her hair in a ponytail slapping his face

“Will have to see what kind of a man he grows into…”

Lyaea instantly felt the pang or irritation and insult in Taryn, she didn’t need to turn to know he was scowling to be called a ‘boy’ still…

More than man enough for a little girl like you…

He at least had the maturity to bite back actually saying it, but thinking it was unfitting for a male of the People and the kind of pride and misogyny he needed to lose to cease being a child.

“And if he grows into the right kind of man?” Taryn asked arms, stronger each day, crossed over his chest

“Then he gets the right kind of woman,”

<<<<>>>>

Crazy Little Thing
This thing called love
I just can't handle it


Half tripping on his own feet the Old Man shook his head at his lack of focus as they worked in the glaring sun with scythes cutting the long grass on the plains his ancestors had once herded gormin, piling up to dry into straw for Lydan’s herd.

That boring shavit wasn’t what was distracting Taryn, rather he promise that once they had filled the barn Lyaea would visit for the evening and make him dinner – a welcome break from the Old Man’s insistence they hunt and forage everyday on the slow road to the coast.

This thing called love
I must get round to it


She spent all afternoon getting ready to see him, bath scented with fresh picked flowers, made the picnic breads from flour she picked and ground in a flurry of domesticity she never thought herself capable of.

The wind was cool, the conversation light, feelings warm as the iholo played, but when he shifted in to try and kiss her…

I ain't ready

He once more ended up telekinetically flung upside down into a tree.

Crazy little thing called love

Shaking it off he jumped back up with a smile.

This thing (this thing) called love (called love)
It cries (like a baby) in a cradle all night


She would wonder where he was at night, what camp site they had found, what he was eating, had he hunted it, gotten into a fight with a vorynx…the suspense had her jittery, flicking between screens on her iholo, looking for things to take her mind off him….

It swings (ooh, ooh), it jives (ooh, ooh)
It shakes all over like a jelly fish,


….but he just couldn’t stop having ever second thought about her, even while trying to avoid the vicious blade like beaks of the Snow-hawks as he clambered up a rocky peak to swipe some eggs for breakfast, their telekinetic attacks gripping his ankle sand wrists, he had to use the Old Man’s ‘shunt’ techniques to bat them off….

If only he could shunt out the thoughts of Lyaea he thought ruefully in the days he didn’t see her…but honestly those fantasies….

I kinda like it
Crazy little thing called love


Neither could get enough of them.

There goes my baby
She knows how to rock-n-roll


She had to head off to work and train with the Extolled…he felt even as she lay back on the grass whining, her voice always that bit more shrill, about how they doted on her like a Goddess kow-towing and such he felt a burning pain that he might never see her, already felt how he would miss her as they sat together for the last time for possibly a month

She drives me crazy

Under the warming autumn sun he reached out to touch her….

She gives me hot and cold fever
She leaves me in a cool, cool sweat


And as always ended upside 200 metres away.

“One day…I’m gonna get you sweet cheeks…” he cringed righting himself – even after the sadistic beating the Old Man could inflict, Lyaea still somehow always hit him harder.

“One day…” she smiled hips swaying amidst leaves red as her hair up as the seasons turned

“I’ll let you,”

I gotta be cool, relax, get hip
Get on my tracks


He plodded along behind the Old Man smelling the salt from the sea for the first time, bundles of wood on his back, arms aching from cutting trees to build a boat to sail to the jungle isles of the equator where his ‘healing and training’ would continue,

Take a back seat, hitch-hike
And take a long ride on my hover-bike


The days dragged on, the mewling worship of the Extolled grating more than usual, she found herself procrastinating more than working, but she knew she had to wait till he was ready…till she was ready….before she finally knew if it was what she hoped.

Until I'm ready
Crazy little thing called love


<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 14, 2020, 01:48:17 AM
Chapter 11 — Fires of Remembrance — Part 6
Melron
(https://i.ibb.co/7WXtFPb/Melron-R3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/7WXtFPb)
Taryn swung between branches, ran over boughs, and skidded in between Vong Hybrid creatures in the sweltering jungle heat of the isles that days ago had been uncomfortable until Taryn, so used to the cold of space had finally adapted.

His grip was strong, his movements more fluid as he move through the course over and over again, Taryn’s dexterity had increased as the courses required him to use ranges of motion beyond humanoid standard for the first time, his body forced to adapt and regain its potential as muscles and tendons grew and firmed.

Dovin basals in swamp like pool gripped at him trying to pull Taryn from the thin branches he raced upon, he countered with a buoyant burst in the aether.

Wild amphistaffs lashed and spat acid a him, forcing him to pivot near 180 degrees at the torso.

Taryn still burnt through his energy too quickly, needed to develop endurance, but for now it served Melron’s purpose. 

Taryn still had a young man’s vigour, useful for the intensity of the training he needed to fully recover, but also a risk.

Grabbing the real ribbon hidden among the villips Melron had hidden after tuning the choir to twist into images of the same Taryn dove beneath the claws of Vosis that sprung rom the swamp like paddies.

An example of Vong and Aethan species interacting the reptilian Vosis – genetically perfected Hssiss – had taken quickly to living in the villip paddies and preying on Vong aquatic creatures, the Villips in turn twisting in their choirs of leathery skin to an image of Vosis to deter animals that would otherwise eat them.

The young man avoided the first sweeps but found himself back into a trap as another vosis rose up.  The creatures were nearly two metres in length at least a meter and a half in height, strong as a vorynx with scaled hides and phase shifting stealth abilities of Hssiss but far deadlier venoms and leaner more flexible build.

Dripping claws slashed through the humid air as it splashed up and into his back, painful scratches etched in blood.

Taryn spun and unleashed a furious burst of aetheric fire, an instinctual response that had kept him alive against pirates, mercenaries and freebooters that was counterproductive against aetheric wielding creatures. 

The Vosis cared not for the heat, they revelled in the heat that stimulated the cold blooded animals metabolisms and was not anywhere near hot enough to damage their grey-green scales.

They bit and lashed forcing Taryn to scramble in the mud, it was four onto one, and in the gluggy still waters leech like creatures began to circle attracted by the blood dripping from his back.

Melron stood staff in hand…perhaps this was a test too soon…

“Back on your arse Old Man!” Taryn yelled pirouetting between the fangs and claws that cut the heat hazed air.

Such pride, such a need to prove himself was both endearing and worrying.  Taryn wanted to prove himself to Lyaea, show himself a worthy mate…but he was going about it the wrong way, his physical and aetheric abilities were nearing an adequate level…but they were outstripping his psychological and cultural recovery.

The young man gazed into the fanged maws that surrounded him, cloaking himself in a kinetic shield as Melron had taught him only a few weeks before as they sailed to the equatorial isles from the Valley, the shield necessary to keep their small boat safe from pounding sea hail and intense waves.

On the brine soaked ship they had fought the elements together as one by the end as Melron taught him navigation, sailing, fishing and the stars above.  It had been a good end to an inauspicious start, Tayrn complaining about the rowing and annoyed they didn’t simply fly.

“What’s the point of having these fancy pants oblivion ships if you don’t use em?”

“What is the point,” Melron countered “Of using the wrong tool for the wrong job?”

“Hello, ship fast, boat slow, getting from Aurek to Besh gonna be faster in ship dumb dumb,” he complained as they sat side by side rowing in the calm of a temporarily windless ocean.

“Did you consider there are more goals to be accomplished that simply getting from Aurek to Besh?”

Taryn had sniffed indignantly
“All about the journey hey Old Man,”

Taryn had been right however cynical, but the lesson hadn’t stuck.

He took the closest Vosis head on, leaping toward its mouth teeth dripping with acidic venom.

Taryn took the welts that burst on his skin as the venom hit to grab the mouth open, using the jaw as the grip to toss the huge beast at least 450kg into another.

The splash sent the leeches scrambling, the villips curling up for protection.  Taryn heaved out as the claws bashed against his shield, he rushed the beasts head on like he just had…then leapt high into the vines above grabbing an amphistaff in each hand, the wild serpents resenting his grip and moving to strike and cut him with their blade like bodies. 

As he came down he hurled them at the Vosis that were leaping toward him in turn.  A mid air fight of three ensure, the Amphistaffs hitting the Vosis cutting and curling round in their anger at being taken from their vines, the Vosis lashing at Taryn and trying to shake the amphistaff, Taryn himself pushing himself telekinetically to stay in the air and pushing himself back and down under the Vosis.

He deftly twisted from their gnashing and clawing to get just under them, ramming his fists and feet into the relatively softer scales of the under belly cracking ribs.

All crashed to the swamp in a rain of mud, blood and stagnant microbe filled waters.

There was another tussle and Melron moved forward, unable to see who was what in the melee, reptilian hisses and villip ululations cried out amidst Taryn’s grunting.

Then quiet as they all fell under the water level.

Melron rushed forward just as a head, the last faded traces of bleached hair poking out beside a tightly clenched ribbon in a bloody fist.

“See…” Taryn huffed
“All too easy…”

<<<<>>>>

There was no need for a fire, indeed it would not last in the humid air and attract too many predators, so they sat lit only by the stars through the canopy.

Taryn was patching his wounds with various gums and saps to speed recovery, another sign of his progress in learning the facts Melron could teach.

But he seemed to be missing the meaning.

“Something on your mind Old Man?”

“You’ve learnt much Taryn these past few weeks since you recovered your name,”

“Yeah well haven’t had much of a choice, it’s learn or starve and get eaten, but that’s the point ain’t it, People adapt, like I did to survive with the Pirates, you’re making me adapt to survive with the Aethans,”

Melron nodded at the correct analogy, but again a deeper meaning he was trying to impart was missed, he didn’t want Taryn to merely ‘survive’ among the People but to be one of them….

It didn’t matter how many skills Taryn mastered, how well he recovered physically, these things were necessary but not enough to be one of the People, and would not on their own impress Lyaea as Taryn hoped. 

Melron could sense Taryn believed if he could prove he was as tough and able as any other Aethan male Lyaea would consider him a man and give him what he wanted from her…

The erroneous assumptions in that scheme were, even for an Aethan, beyond count.  What Lyaea would consider a ‘man’ was culturally conditioned very differently to what Taryn believed. And he would be sorely disappointed if he pushed his luck before he realized this truth.

Melron didn’t blame Taryn, he had grown in a deeply misogynist culture where the only women he interacted with were hard bitten violent pirates, passive resigned prostitutes, artificially eager sluts on XXX rated holo-vids, or caricatures on holo drama’s.  Melron had to make sure, for all their sakes, Taryn learnt his place as a male among the People and accepted it before he made any further attempts to court Lyaea…or risk all they had achieved.

“So any story tonight about Alixaea and her ten thousand daughters?” Taryn asked leaning back on a moss covered rock.

“No more stories…” Taryn had heard hem all any way but still their meaning was not translating…Melron stood into a Morgukai ready stance

“Come copy me…Sha means high, wo means low, Kan middle…”

“Really…now?” Taryn complained

“Really,”

With a huff Taryn got up and instinctively tugged on Melrons mind for the exact details - his Aethenaea cortex was now fully reactivated enabling him to passively delve other People for procedural, declarative and kinetic memories and absorb them.  This key part of Taryn’s brain had been severely diminished for lack of stimulation by adult Aethan’s and its recover had been one of Melron’s focuses.

“This is Djen-wo…low flourish,” Melron moved, Taryn following precisely milliseconds after palms moving with grace but firm power in a movement across he body to protect one’s own core with striking the enemies thighs.
“Djen-Sha high flourish,” he went on rising his taught arms up, the movements need to be firm, fast and fluid,

Taryn copied precisely as the knowledge passed between them.

Melron was seeing now how over confident he had been what the Aethenaea cortex could achieve…it could impart skills and knowledge by rote, but not the cultural meaning associated with it.

“These techniques are used by the Morgukai, dwellers of the Wannschok, the Endless deserts” Melron explained as they moved through the sequences

“Warriors who value truth and honour, who respect their foes, this is shown in their marital arts, Van –wo – Low strike,” he continued with a solid forward kick

“I learned these techniques from  Morgukai warrior on the verge of killing me…I tore the knowledge from his mind…with it I was able to defeat him…with it I became a better warrior, a better teacher, a better Person…Kai-Kan – Mid throw – “ they motioned to a quick hand over hand grip to an invisible foe then practices the downward pull and follow up stomp.

“This was not because of the techniques themselves, but the meaning…I saw in the Morgukai way values I had lost in myself, and ways that were better than those I held, firmness, endurance, that to respect your foe is to respect yourself….Ren-Ko-Sha,”

They were moving seamlessly to the untrained eye now, so deep was the flow between their cortices Taryn’s delay was barely half a millisecond as they backflip kicked.

“To learn simply the stances and strikes by rote would’ve gained me nothing, I had to be open to taking in more than just that,”

Taryn was no fool he understood the implicit censure

“You’re saying I’m not?” he snapped even as they went through the Jin-Kan mid-level rapid strikes

“Spread myself wider than a 5 credit Zeltron to your Aether, been a good boy paddling the boat, even stuck it out in this humid hell hole, you just said yourself I’ve learned much”

“Learned yes but you need to live out what you have learned, Valens once quoted his Master Yoda one must unlearn what you have learned until you take what I’ve taught you into yourself you will remain a lost child…”
<<<<>>>>

 
Taryn
He stopped dead in the cold night air.

“Child, who you calling child Old Man!” he snapped the rage building cold as aetheric fire in him

“I don’t need your approval, I was a Captain, survivor and fighter long before I met you and your cooky clan,”

His face twisted with unhidden anger as he jutted his thumb toward himself

“I listened to your silly stories, rowed the damn boat, found my old name, learned how to hunt in this world fully of whacko bio-engineered monsters not because I set all that aside but because I drew on it, cause this…this ain’t nothing compared to the pits of Nar Shadda or the arse end of the Kyala loading laser cores and snatching food,”

Now he pointed at the Old Man

“And I’ll live any damn way I please,”

To emphasize the point he was his own man he grabbed the triquetra pendant Milaea had given him about his neck supplanting his lost teeth trophies, tugged hard and fast enough to snap the wound cord.

The reaction on the Old Man’s face was short, barely a millisecond, but with his senses refined and sharpened after months of close contact Taryn did not miss it his own face twisted from annoyance to confusion at why such a trivial gesture would elicit such a response. 

Then he felt it…clarity as if waking from a dream haze…he looked quickly down at the pendant in his sweaty hand then to the firm but anxious eyes of the Old Man – all the while he used all he had been taught these last few months to seek out what the pendant had been doing…

The Old Man exuded a strange combination of worry and pride as Taryn used Psychometry and Flow Sight he’d learnt to track Aethan animals on the small pendant, integrated with his burgeoning understanding of aetheric enchantments on the babies blanket and other household items he found in his birth parents house, the consciousness stripping attacks used by Voren feline predators, the shatter point healing methods Melron had taught him and he’d used after the fight with the Vosis….

You suck my blood like a leech
You break the law and you preach


It all came together in one level of his conscious mind…the pendant was not a symbolic welcome gift…it a complex and precisely tuned device built to moderate hormone levels and supress activation of ‘fight’ sympathetic nervous system responses, encourage the repointing and growth of empathy centres in the brain and facilitate a back-up ‘sleep’ pattern so that…so that…

The Old Man could fidget with genes each…and every…night.

Screw my brain till it hurts

“Son of a bitch…” Taryn whispered…

“Son of a mother frelling, arse licking, bitch…”

He wanted to hurl the pendant but could only muster the weakness to let it drop, plopping onto the leave strewn ground.

Now the yelling began

“You use your damn witches charm to castrate me then frell around with my DNA!”

You've taken all my money
And you want more


The suppressive effect lost at the moment it was needed the most Taryn curled his head in his hands as he trembled with rage.

“I couldn’t understand why I put up with this gundark dren…why I was enjoying it feeling at home…that was why…I was doped to the nines….”

“Son…it was to heal…”

Misguided old mule with your pig headed rules
With your narrow minded cronies


“I’M NOT YOUR FELLLING SON!”

The scream was paired with a burst of instinctive aetheric fire blazing from Taryn’s eyes and hands slamming an unprepared emotionally stunned Melron straight into a tree where the rustle of leaves, insects and bird burst the night’s silence apart as they fled.

“…heal you…” Melron struggled rising up quickly needing to contain the damage…and likely needed help

<Anyone…Taryn has taken a turn…come quickly>

“…fix what was broken by the outsiders…”

Who are fools of the first division

“Fix what was broken my frelling arse…” his head pounding cold with rage, fists and arms burnt with blue fire that lit the copse.

“I thought…thought I was here by choice…for the first time I had a choice in what I was doing in my life not just surviving day by day….”  He shook his head as he stepped toward their leather and hide packs

“More frelling fool me….”  He picked up both training swords, the greysleet blades were not as heavy or sharp as blackstone but could still…with enough force…kill.

“My crew mutinied on me…yeah that shavit sucked hard…but that was the game, the life of a pirate…we were all honest about it, never claimed like sweet arse Lya did I could come and go as I pleased, I was trapped in that dren-storm of a life, but I had no frelling illusions….no hope…”

He strode forward both blades in hand as Melron stood before him, face only a little red from the blast of fire.

“We wanted to help you…heal…”

“Save the preaching Old Man…” he rose both blades in Tat-Ro-Shan – Neck Slice High Strike.

Melron would not raise his hand against this boy he had so comprehensively failed twice…once to protect him from Outsiders, now to protect Taryn from himself.

The swords cut through the air….

Death on two legs
You're tearing me apart


<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 14, 2020, 01:48:48 AM
 
Chapter 11 — Fires of Remembrance — Part 7

Lyaea
(https://i.ibb.co/2hn0Pcw/Taryn-22-1.png) (https://ibb.co/2hn0Pcw)
…and sliced through the illusion of Lyaea’s neck

“TARYN Stop!” her amorphous hands held up to block the blow.

Teeth gritted Taryn paused…

“Yeah that’s it ain’t it the cute little Glitteryll Pot to tease me main cannon while her docking bay’s permanently shut…”

“Taryn we can talk about this I’ll be there soon…” she comforted as best she could from the transport that was racing toward the isles

A fierce smirk crossed his face and he lowered his swords

“Sure talk, yeah let’s talk…”

She breathed a slight sigh of relief as she pushed the Karintha class transport ever faster.
(https://i.ibb.co/djxnBCq/vornyx-fighter-17-ft-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/XjMmX0g)
<<<<>>>>

Lowering the ship on its grav-drives she hopped out at a clearing nearby, weaving through the night to where Taryn remained standing eyes alight glaring at Melron.

Both men were barely clothed given they had been training, neither seemed to have spoken or moved a millimetre since she spoke to Taryn minutes before.

The tension was the only thing to have grown in that time thicker than the humid air that boiled off the nearby villip paddies.

As she ducked under broad leaves Taryn slowly turned toward her,

“You wanna talk sweet cheeks…let’s talk, away from him…”

She paused nodding

“Alright my ship is nearby…”

She lead the short distance in silence to the clearing lit by the glow of the ships lights the ramp still down.

He stood silent arms crossed against his chest

“Taryn…” she said as soothingly as possible she’d always had a talent for talking herself out of trouble, and now added a hint of her pheromones supress his anger bio mechanically

“Melron was just trying to make you all you can be, you have to admit…” she ran her hands down his shoulders

“You’re stronger, healthier….” Her hands caressed down his sides to the front of his thighs

“More manly than ever…”

He shifted ever so slightly

“We never intended to supress you forever…”

“Oh how generous of you,” was the cynical reply

A genuine smile was her response as she moved closer

“You’ve grown so much, don’t turn away now when everything we want,” she added another burst of pheromones into her saliva and licked her lips

“Is so cl…”

“Feel good are you satisfied?” he pushed her away

“Do you feel like suicide? I think you should,” he stepped toward her

“Is your conscience all right? Does it plague you at night?” he pushed her again,

She was shocked more than anything else that a male Aethan could in any way be aggressive toward a female…

“Do you feel good?  Feel good?” he pressed up against her, height and muscular body overawing her own if only just.

“You talk like a big business tycoon,”

She recognised the lyrics he was quoting…

“You're just a hot air balloon, So no one gives you a damn,” his face was leering and enraged and he tried to intimidate her, she was not concerned, she could protect herself  easily enough from this aberrant behaviour caused by, she hoped, uncorrected genetic and cultural damage.

“You're just an overgrown little tralk,” he whispered with sinister intend,
“Playing the aloof goddess, teasing what you’ll never pay out, well…”

Like lighting his hand went for her arms, she reacted no less quickly with a burst of telekinetic and stasis energy to his core as she had done a dozen times before when he’d gotten too close…

But this time was different…This time he had six months of intense training with a Guardian…this time he knew how to deflect the attack that was based on a Vorynx predation strike because he had hunted vorynx.

Now he hunted her

“…time to put your money where your mouth is you little schutta,”

She pushed again but he curved it off as she struggled in his slightly stronger grip

“Taryn let me go!” she squealed

“Taryn is who you want me to be, not who I want to be!” he bit back one arm now round her pinning her closed while the other pulled back her head.

“Let her go Blaze…” a fourth voice from the ship called.

<<<<>>>>
Lydan
(https://i.ibb.co/1sP7p0Y/Lydan.jpg) (https://ibb.co/1sP7p0Y)
Blaze sniffed the air

“Yeah…of course the nerf herder…” he loosened his grip and Lyaea fell away scrambling.  Almost comically Blaze grabbed her ankles and dragged her back – she hurled a rapid bolt of lightning that he slapped to the side.

Now Lydan stepped out, his Shepherd’s staff in his hands

“Come on you dren soaked loser, give me your best shot!” Blaze dropped Lyaea’s ankle as she hurried out of the line between the two men, never more appreciative of her brother.

Lydan spun his staff as he headed down the ramp sizing up his opponent.  Blaze had grown strong in the last few months…but not that strong, the shock of his disobedience had stunned Lyaea from being more effective in her resistance…

Blaze gestured like a pit fighter with his hands

“Come on, let’s see how all that nerf nuzzling has paid off…” Blaze feet switched and bounced like a boxer between stances Melron had taught and typical street fighting positions.

Lydan didn’t want to hurt him…but had little choice, Blaze needed to be restrained, and there was no reasoning with a pirate.

In the blink of an eye the fight erupted.

Lydan made a rapid teleport skip to swipe straight at the head, Blaze bobbed under and landed three rapid punches to his ribs.

They were firm and effective, Blaze had heeded Melrons lessons – in Morgukai techniques at least – well.  Back up Lydan swung out again using his staff to keep Blaze at a distance.

He threw up solid telekinetic walls to limit Blazes movement, his goal to use the range on his shepherd staff to land crippling blows to the knees and hips.

Blaze moved quickly in response, weaving out of each strike and starting to throw controlled balls of aetheric flame in response, those that missed he was able to pivot back round for another pass like suicide drones – soon the air was filled with a dozen of them as the two men struck against each other.

Lydan’s staff struck against the aether hardened forearms and back when he could, Blaze duck and wove to land quick combo’s to Lydan’s sides when he could, the staff protecting Lydan’s core.

The fire balls spun and struck at Lydan’s shoulders and knee’s - he used tutaminis techniques to absorb most of the aetheric flames and send mental thorns with the excess – most were deflected but occasional winces and missed opportunities showed a few got through.

The Pirate and the Shepherd danced in a game of blow and counter blow, the leaf strewn forest floor churned up, the air given added heat by their exertion, Lyaea now beside a shocked Melron near forgotten as staff hit flesh, and fist bashed body.

Inevitably Lydan knew he would win, he spent his days fending off vorynx, working the tannery and hauling hay bales for the winter, he had endurance to spare, Blaze was used to short sharp fights in the pits, boarding an unfortunate ship or in his own ship beating an errant pirate to assert authority.

Blaze began to waver quickly, burning through his energy just as Lydan had suspected, he barely leapt over a low sweep of the staff, and was knocked by the Lydan’ follow up telekinetic hammer to the chest.

Reeling back angry Lydan saw Blaze eyes flick to something behind him.

Before his mind could assess the strategic import Blaze cut loose with a wall of aetheric fire as large as any Kiraea could produce if less intense and controlled.

The shepherd staff spun fast in his hands hurtling the torrent back, the enchantment and runes Adaea had infused it with dispelling much of the blast…it had to be a distraction Lydan’s senses remained alert…but still he was taken by surprise…

Blaze knee hit straight into his back, Lydan spun with his staff and countered before Blaze could follow through…but Blaze was already moving away.

The pirate shoved himself with a telekinetic shunt up the ships ramp and hit the button to close the door. 

Lydan immediately leapt up to pursue but a hand fell on his shoulder heavy with grief at the second loss of a son of the People.

“Let him go son…” Melron counselled “Let him go…”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on July 15, 2020, 11:49:26 PM
Interesting.  Blaze/Taryn's therapy ISN'T working as well as the Aethans were expecting.  Of course, we're talking about DECADES of trauma, conditioning like that isn't something that even the strongest of personalities can overcome in a short time.  Which is why this particular narrative has become a favorite of mine: this character study is such a different perspective into the individual Aethans.  It's also testament to LSG's writing that each distinctive perspective is as disparate as they are remarkable.  And it's especially heartbreaking seeing Melron's feelings of failure reassert themselves over the loss of his family and his belated decision(s) leading to his status as a Guardian-come-lately.

THIS is how pathos is done PROPERLY  :)

Now just what a PTSD suffering Aethan with sociopathy is going to do with a Karintha-class ship is anyone's guess (but I can't wait to find out  ;)).  Speaking of...

(https://i.ibb.co/djxnBCq/vornyx-fighter-17-ft-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/XjMmX0g)
ANOTHER sweet-looking ship, courtesy of the winning collaboration between FT & LSG  :D

KEEP THESE COMING PLEASE!!!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: HesaHeart on July 16, 2020, 01:10:21 AM
FT and Lsg and all you that write are amazingly talented


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 16, 2020, 01:34:17 AM
FT and Lsg and all you that write are amazingly talented
Interesting.  Blaze/Taryn's therapy ISN'T working as well as the Aethans were expecting.  Of course, we're talking about DECADES of trauma, conditioning like that isn't something that even the strongest of personalities can overcome in a short time.  Which is why this particular narrative has become a favorite of mine: this character study is such a different perspective into the individual Aethans.  It's also testament to LSG's writing that each distinctive perspective is as disparate as they are remarkable.  And it's especially heartbreaking seeing Melron's feelings of failure reassert themselves over the loss of his family and his belated decision(s) leading to his status as a Guardian-come-lately.

THIS is how pathos is done PROPERLY  :)

Now just what a PTSD suffering Aethan with sociopathy is going to do with a Karintha-class ship is anyone's guess (but I can't wait to find out  ;)).  Speaking of...

ANOTHER sweet-looking ship, courtesy of the winning collaboration between FT & LSG  :D

KEEP THESE COMING PLEASE!!!

Thanks guys, wanted to do much more character rather than action driven drama with this series, as well as delving the psychology of the Aethans...and their limitations and weaknesses...in more depth. Sounds like I'm succeeding. And Yes FT has really gone beyond with his efforts on these.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 22, 2020, 03:52:29 AM
Chapter 12 — Inferno of Regret — Part 1

Bjen

His tongue tapped on the upper metal plate in his mouth, a nervous response to stress as another half lead came to a full stop.

Nearly seven months and no sign of Blaze, no trace of anyone trying to shift Naquadha in any quantity…it was as if he’d vanished into a black hole…

Or perhaps his erstwhile captain had simply died against the Housi and they simply never found the body amidst the wreckage…but then where did the Naquadha go, the valuable minerals had a very distinct signature and no trace was found after the carnage.

Uuun grunted and slapped his shoulder.  They hated each other, but had to work together, two more months and Ozrym would sic his bounty hunter guild kath-hounds on them, so they had to work fast too.

His cyborg limbs wheezing with pneumatic hisses for lack of maintenance over the last few months he struggled up from the disturbingly wet seat.

They’d tried ever bar, every station, every port and fence across half of Hutt Space and the lower corporate sector to no avail.

“Now where…” he mused his cybernetic enhanced brain ticking through the remaining probabilities.  Like all Yaka he’d been implanted as an infant, it was the pride of their kind…to meld machine and man perfectly…

What was less well known was the high failure rate, officialy it was none…unofficially it was up to twenty percent, the lucky died as infants, the wretched failed to properly fuse and ended up disabled in ‘sheltered workshops’ that made spice mines look homely, the rest like Bjen were just…cast out, too expensive to repair so had to make a living with their relatively superior cyborg bodies another way.

The mute Uuun just shrugged with no more clue where to look that he did.  They were using Uuun’s remaining ship, crewed by just over three dozen of their men….if had been nearly a hundred…a few more jumped ship every stop for better pastures…

Bjen didn’t blame them, this was why he never wanted to be captain, to avoid the Hutts noticing him…Blaze had attracted too much heat, a swap for Uuun was detestable but preferable…now he was stuck holding the death mark.

Scratching his metal jaw Bjen finally decided they had just to guess…

“We’ll try Nar Kreeta…”  The Hutt colony was a large trading hub under Hutt control, the kind of place only an idiot would try and sell Naqudaha stolen from another Hutt…

It was just audacious enough that Bjen calculated a 14.3 per cent probability Blaze would try it…the highest chance of finding him he had left.

Uuun murmured in incredulity

“You got a better idea, or you wanna go back to Socorro and hand your myvonx to Ozrym on a plate?”

Uuun simply gargled reluctant acquiescence.

<<<<<>>>>

Blaze
(https://i.ibb.co/mtVkJpV/vornyx-fighter-14-ft-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/k0sjKZs)
Like a bomb the guilt and shame exploded as soon as the heat of the fight had cooled and the ship dropped out of hyperspace.

He sank into the chair and stared into the coloured vista of the deep core utterly spent, mentally and physically. 

“Wish I had died on that raid…”

For the first time he’d had a good thing going…or thought he did…he couldn’t tell with the mind screw – or could he…

Objectively he had food, clean air, no imminent threat of death, people to talk to who didn’t seem like they wanted to put a knife in his back, the chance to learn new things, to learn about himself….

But it was tainted by the manipulation of his mind and body that had driven him over the edge…he was angry it was all fake…and real…and fake and…

“Frell this dren,” he scrapped his circling thoughts and stood up.  Needing something to do he began looking round the ship.

Like the larger one he’d gone to Aethas on it featured a clean grey, white and blue décor, interspersed with garden walls and potted plants.  It was an assault transport of some kind, cockpit, four main rooms, two sleeping quarters, armoury and workshop and a med bay, large storage area at the back three sets of Oblivion armour along with rifles, pistols, swords, glass knives and explosives.

It wasn’t huge but it was well armed with shikkar torpedoes, magnetic accelerator cannons, ion cannons and a cloaking system. 

Frankly it was better than half Ozrym’s pirate….

“…flotilla…” he suddenly thought picking up one of the Oblivion helmets, the featureless lump of Blackstone concealing miniaturized Chiss nano tech…this was badass dren.

“What am I gonna do sit around and mope…talking to myself…”

He looked around for a moment almost wishing Lyaea would appear again…was she listening using one of them aetheric magic tricks?

“I said talking to myself?”

The Old Man even…

No…

“Well frag you, I’m taking this ship and these goodies and I’m gonna frell those mutinous dogs Bjen and Uuun in ways they never thought possible,”

He couldn’t make up or what happened on Aethas…but he could get revenge for his old life.

<<<<<>>>>

Melron

Like a bomb the guilt and shame exploded as soon as the heat of the fight had worn off and the ship burst into hyperspace.

He sank into the chair of the small wooden hut amidst the jungle while they waited for Jarys and Milaea to pick them up.

He had failed more than just Taryn, more than just himself…but Lyaea and Lydan…the whole People…

Again

The same child lost twice…surely there was no forgiveness for that.

Lyaea sat on the floor nuzzled up to her brother, Lydan looked a little worse for wear, he was a strong young man, but Blaze had gotten some solid hits in…Melron should be proud.  But it was Lyaea that worried him the most.

Swallowing his own pain to try and alleviate others he reached out

“You alright Lyaea?”

She blinked a few times then sat up.

“Fine, took me by surprise, still broken I suppose…” she waved his concerns away even as she radiated disappointment in the aether.

The canopy shook breaking the chance for Melron to reply as Jarys and Milaea finally arrived in a Karintha Class transport nearby.  It was barely three seconds before they were with them.

As was fitting Milaea attended to Lyaea with a singular focus.

Jarys wandered to the site of the fight with blaze, scooping up a handful of dirt as he looked through time to see for himself exactly what had happened.

Arms protectively about her Milaea lead Lyaea to the transport as Melron stood and approached Jarys unspoken summons, Lydan behind him.

Jarys was still crouched the last grains of muddy soil slipping through his fingers.

“He has threatened a female, attacked her…” Jarys said his words neither loud nor quiet, detached and clear – he spoke from his position as Guardian.

“He has taken one of our ships…you allowed him to leave…”

Now Jarys turned to him Melron could only nod

Both Guardians knew what had to be done, the only question was who would do it. 

Blaze had been under Melron’s guidance, he had invested heavily emotionally in the boy and his recovery, Jarys rightly suspected Melron would not be able to bring himself to... 

“I know what must be done…” Melron said before Jarys asked him, he had retreated into apathy and despair over his personal failures once before, he would not do so again.

“And I will do it,”

<<<<>>>

Save Me
She lay head buried in Adaea’s lap,

It started off so well / They said we made a perfect pair

There was little point to saying anything, the feeling boiled off her without filter, how hope had turned to disappointment…and disappointment into terror.

I clothed myself in your glory and your love
How I loved you


Lyaea had shared so much of herself so easily, and now was left with the tears of broken trust.

How I cried
The years of care and loyalty


He didn’t shed a tear despite the trembling of his sneer in the mirror as he streaked back his hair.

Were nothing but a sham it seems
The years belie we lived a lie


He’d been kidnapped by a cult who’d pumped him with drugs, whatever ‘feelings’ he might think he had were just a hangover.

Still…
I love you till I die
Save me save me save me


All the familiar comforts of her extended family, all their companionship, just couldn’t quite console her for the loss of a potential mate

I can't face this life alone
Save me save me save me


The last of the clips snapped cleanly in place, the Oblivion armour’s HUD lit up in cool blue data streams, his body now covered in more protection than a hundred plates of doonium.

I'm naked and I'm far from home

Home…it was a rusted corner on a ship, a stinking moist couch in a cantina…he was a fool to think it could’ve been a woollen rug under Aethas bright stars.

The slate will soon be clean
I'll erase the memories


He would soon forget, he couldn’t remember any of the other tralks over the years, he’d forget her too just as easy and

start again with somebody new

Was it all wasted

Lyaea wondered as she sobbed, Adaea’s dress ever damper with her tears

All that love?
I hang my head and I advertise


Had she given too much too quickly in her desperation to finally have what her sisters did in a mate

A soul for sale or rent

Given over to the first buyer to show up for want of other options rather than real afffection?

I have no heart I'm cold inside

He let the flow fill him with its cold fire, the empty drive to survive for no greater purpose than making it through the next fight.

I have no real intent

This was his life, his truth, a world of murder and munity, prostitutes and pimps…revenge and renegades.

And he was the worst of them all

Save me save me save me
<<<<>>>>

Another One Bites the Dust
(https://i.ibb.co/4NJZ4yf/Taryn-7.jpg) (https://ibb.co/4NJZ4yf)
”She walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low”


He’d finally worked out how to get the music on the Assault Transport, the Kyala II he mockingly called it as the unnervingly silent sublights glided him into a geosynchronous orbit above Ozrym’s palace on Socorro.

Located just outside the Vakeyya it was an blobby collection of large sandstone with sand worn metal pipes and air conditioners bolted to the side, the main focal point a large red dome.  It was at the dead centre of this red dome he aimed the crosshair of the targeting zoom on the view screen.

Hand on the stick he fingered the trigger.

Ain't no sound but the sound of her feet,
Machine guns ready to go


“Frell you, ya fat pile of dren,”

The trigger pulled and instantly he felt a tiny bump as two Shikkar torpedoes flew from ensconced tubes on either side of the lower hull, the ultra dense missile struck the Mesoshspere seconds later hurtling well above terminal velocity as the guidance jets on the missiles arced them to the tip of the dome.

It took less than 10 seconds for them to hit.  Viciously serrated tips bore into the dome and several thousand kilometres per hour, his magnified view from the Thermoshpere showed and instant upsurge of red dust and debris.

He waited….

Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?


The proton bombs in the second compartment of the torpedoes detonated. The torpedoes had bored nearly 50 metres underground by the time they did, foundations and rock beneath no match for the blackstone.

The blasts subsided, and the entire palace complex fell into the void the matter moiling detonation had made, kicking up glass clouds from flash melted sand.

Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat


He stepped out of the ship onto the dusty cracked pavement of Socorro, the filthy wind that filled every fabric with sand seemingly abhorring his new Oblivion shell.

Everyone in Vakeyya were too busy hiding indoors from the dust storm the palaces continuing collapse had had caused to notice him landing the ship or wandering the streets.

He slapped the button to open the door to the Golden Gorog, the local scum and now grounded smugglers and pirates all hunkered inside watching holo’s of the unfolding dust storm, there was no official news channel, so they got feeds from the ships still in orbit. 

He listed to the conversation as he wandered the edge of the main floor all but invisible.

“Couldn’t be a meteorite, would’ve detected it from orbit,”
“Yeah but who would’ve bothered to stop it?”
“The place is sinking, the explosion was subterranean, could just be a sink hole”
“Right under the frelling palace?”
“We’re not that lucky”
“Not lucky at All, Ozrym ain’t even there.”

Frelling Hutt… Blaze face contorted in rage as his fist clenched, the blue flames attracting attention.

“Hey what the….”
“Frag my arse it’s Blaze!”

Now more interesting than the disaster all senses turned to him.

“Blaze….” Ius Ke’un, a Pau’an smuggler and free trader Captain who wore an antique human Admirals jacket that barely fit his lanky form approached

“You…Ozrym has been after you for months….the nerve to come back…did you…did you blow the frelling dren out of his palace?”

Till grinding his teeth in annoyance at Ozrym’s absence he offered a curt nod.

“Yeah…I blasted that Hutt’s dren-hole…” he replied…then instantly realized the mistake he’d made.

Across the cantina full with nearly 200 patrons having clustered to get away from the dust storm, hands reached for blasters, knives were slid from sheaths, crew mates nodded and affirmed the one thought they all had.

“Too bad you didn’t get him Blaze…” Ke’un sighed
“Ozrym’s still alive…that means that bounty on your arse is still valid…”

A chorus of chairs pushing out and boots hitting the floor played across the bar as the weary bar tender and waitresses retreating to their usual hiding places…

Blaze frustration fuelled the flow of power to his limbs…

The first shot was fired and it was on…

Another one bites the dust

Rage, hate, regret, grief, all unleashed from his body onto the flesh of the dozens who wanted his head.

Another one bites the dust

Backs broken, bones breaching skin, blood bursting, the screams of terror started as they began to realize this was not the same pit fighter they knew and hated from six months ago

And another one gone, and another one gone

Oh yeah he fought with the same, indeed more viciousness than ever, but he was felling ten times better at it now, and with the Oblivion armour even the luckiest shots that hit him didn’t count for dren

Another one bites the dust

Now they were trying to get into the dust storm outside, the glass rain preferable to joining their skull smashed comrades

Ke’un crawled scrambling firing his blaster without much aim to get up the few steps, the tall Pau’an comical on the floor…Blaze finally reached him.

Hey, I'm gonna get you, too

He grabbed the tall creature by the ankle and lifted him up, head bouncing on each step as Blaze tore the blaster free telekinetically even as half a dozen of the last pirates choked on their own stomach acids from an extreme malacia attack he had learned from Aethan Fungi.

“You know Ke’un…I always liked that jacket of yours,”

“T…t…take it…take it!!! Just let me go!”

“Oh I will...”

He tore it free with the Aether terrifying the lanky creature even more.

“Now you run along and tell Uuun, Ozrym and Bjen I’ll be waiting right here for them,”

He dropped the pau’un who scrambled absent his jacket as fast as he could crawl.

“Another one bites the dust bitches”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 22, 2020, 04:02:47 AM
 
Chapter 12 — Inferno of Regret — Part 2
Ozrym

“Oh…dearie me…”

Pride of Myzm a legacy to his dearly deceased nephew was in orbit over Socorro on return from a trip to enjoy the mud pits of Nal Hutta and secure his alliance with the Housi.

The trips success was deflated by the absence of his palace glaring from the view screen.

“I’m afraid nephew…” he called to his grand-nephew Myzm II, “…you may have to remain on the ship…,”

“Master…” came the squeaky voice of his Major Domo

“Hmmm…”

“We have Captain Ke’un who wishes to speak to you, he is in quite a state, rambling about Blaze….”

<<<<>>>>

 
And another one comes….
(https://i.ibb.co/3k9SqNV/Taryn-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/3k9SqNV)
Lounging back on the wall seat with Ke’un’s former admirals uniform over his Blackstone armour he looked with nothing but scorn at the bevy before him.

“Fragging hopeless…”

Twenty of the best looking tralks rounded up as he waited going to town on each other didn’t do a thing for him....a veritable sea of tits and arses stirred not one throb of blood.

All he could think of was how inferior they were compared to a Real woman.  These had no taste, no scent, no rich presence in the aether, they might as well be made of rock.

“Frelled me over good and proper haven’t you…” he complained the slight hope the Old Man was listening lingering.

Finally his boredom was broken as the door hissed open, behind a dozen the yellow armoured goons that caused the sluts to flee to their hidey holes grasping for what little clothes they had started with were Uuun and…

“Bjen…’me old first mate…” Blaze smiled not standing up
“How’s the Kyala you mutinous mother-frelling nerf sucker?”

The Yaka looked more forlorn than Blaze had ever seen as if he almost regretted his decision.

“Ain’t no getting outta here Blaze…but for old times…” the Yaka walked slowly forward, Blaze heightened perceptions picked up every change since he’d last seen him…including the carbon-beam and thermal detonator.

“…why don’t you grab a schutta and die frelling her?”

Near imperceptibly Blaze flicked his fingers as he replied

“Well ain’t that mighty generous of you…but there’s three things I gotta frell up before I die…”

A clatter of metal and hiss of shock spread as Uuun’s and his commando’s along with Bjen suddenly had all their weapons wrenched by invisible grips from their hands, belts and armour – hovering by strings none could see they all turned on their previous owners, clicking and whirring as they powered up.

“And you two bitches are on that list,”

Pulsing flashes of red blaster fire lit up the room as the goons own weapons opened fire on them, the armour took a few hits ,giving a few time to try and run or hide, but none lasted long under the sustained fire as Bjen and Uuun found themselves flung against the far wall upside down, Blaze savouring the in joke to Lyaea’s defensive technique.

“How do you think I'm going to get along, without you when you're gone?” he screamed pulling Bjen up face to face

“You took me for everything that I had,  And kicked me out on my own” he drew out an Oblivion dagger and slowly waved it in front of the Yaka’s artificial eye

“Are you happy, are you satisfied?” he rammed it into his chest filling it with a  generous serve of aetheric fire fuelled by the cold hatred that returned like a forgotten friend to fill him once more.

“How long can you stand the heat?” he asked as he used all the precision and finesse he had gained to burn the Yaka from the inside out, his cybernetic implants, plastics and metals, melting out from beneath the skin that bubbled and blistered.

The answer was 158 gruelling seconds before the damage to the spine and brain stem finally killed him.

Uuun meanwhile had lost his usual vicious glint and babbled incoherently absent his tongue.

“Don’ worry sweet heart you’re ne…”

The walls blew inward, rubble and sand followed by streams of beam lasers and the scent of rage and predation on the aether…

Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat


<<<<>>>>

 
To Hurt a Man….

There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man
And bring him to the ground


The words were just part of the verse before…but now Blaze realised the truth of them…

You can beat him, you can cheat him
You could shatter a man’s life by tearing him from his family

Make him hard, cold and brittle in a life without hope that was lived to survive another minute without being killed, maimed or starved

Break his heart, mind, pride by betraying him, using him, trying to make him into what he wasn’t.

You can treat him bad and leave him when he's down

And then you can just abandon him in his hour of greatest need…all these things Hurt…but sometimes…

But I'm ready, yes, I'm ready for you
I'm standing on my own two feet


He was on his feet for a moment

Then slammed back into the ground.

…yeah sometimes an old fashioned arse kicking was the best way to hurt Blaze realised as his mouth filled with the red dust the palace bombing had kicked up.

Another one bites the dust

Gyl Housi, the Feeorin juggernaut that had beat him senseless six months before was laying the smack down again.

(https://i.ibb.co/vLzwKWC/Gyl.jpg) (https://ibb.co/vLzwKWC)

The measly little thing in the Oblivion armour had taken a fortune of Naquadha and three of his best ships, Housi had to treat with a Hutt to recover his funds, he now took out these frustrations.

Grabbing the little things ankle he hefted Blaze up, the weight considerable even for a near millennia old Feeorin…but still Gyl bashed him about like the washer woman would beat poncho’s against rocks on the planet of his birth so long ago.

After Ozrym had sent them down Gyl took no chances, cared nought for collateral damage, blasting the tavern Blaze was in to rubble, then having his youngest sons overwhelm the little dren muncher with beam weapons.

Blaze had put up a good fight for a solid three minutes, Jedaai tricks of fire, lighting and moving objects that Gyl had seen on occasion in his centuries as a mercenary, pirate, bodyguard and on occasion diplomat…

But it didn’t last.

Now Gyl smashed and tugged at the whelps neck trying to pry it out of the ultradense armour, not as valuable as the Naquadha, but would earn decent credits nonetheless.

Blaze simply went with it, finally having reached the end of the road, getting splattered by someone bigger and more vicious after killing his mutineers…amidst the bone jarring face tearing smashes he smiled…

He’d burned his bridges, lost his ship and crew, nothing left to gain or lose, a fitting end for a pirate captain.

Through purple bloated bruised eyes he thought briefly of Lyaea, smiling hair glowing red in the sun, a dream for that was all it was, a brief moment of fantasy before Blaze returned to the life he always knew would kill him.

Giving up the last he closed his eyes as the enormous hand squeezed his skull inward…he gave up content if not happy to die a rebellious little boy out of his depth.

<<<<>>>>

The Old Man
(https://i.ibb.co/DVpLWHV/Melron-R4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/DVpLWHV)
Black as the abyss three arrows sped through four heads, splaying tentacles out in death spasms.

Gyl spun round as the bodies dropped, his other sons, a dozen out of hundreds it had to be said, training their weapons at the likely source.

All they saw was a single figure in the same ultradense armour striding through the dust storm

“Put him down Feeorin, no glory in beating the child to death,”

<Grrrrnnnn…haaak kkksh ko rrrn grrr?> Gyl growled his other son who usually translated still on the ship, yet somehow this creature understood the meaning

<Would you rather take his place >

Melron nodded solemnly

“I would,”

<hrrrnnnnn….>  he dropped Blaze like rag doll to regard the new comer, the firm set of his wizened features as he walked forward sword in hand, Gyl’s other sons waiting for orders.

Stopping at ten paces Melron moved into a firm Kin-atana stance, prepared for a wide variety of attacks, if not excelling in a given riposte.

“You want a fight, fight me,”

”You are certain?” Jarys asked in the quiet of the caverns a day before,

“I am,”

“Very well…then Taryn’s sentence is allocated to you, under the eyes of the Goddesses It Is So,”

“It Is So,” Milaea echoed witness and voice of the Goddesses.

“I pronounce your sentence, You are exiled from the Valley, ostracised from all currently within it…”

Melron knelt as Jarys held out his hand the lighting scratching every inch of Melrons skin to seal it

Jarys considered an apt punishment for offending against a woman.

There was no precedent for such an egregious offence in living memory, numerous mitigating factors consider. He looked to Milaea for inspiration, deciding upon a more restorative than retributive sentence.

“You will remain exiled until you have retrieved one lost to the People,”


<Jarrck-Knn> Gyl waved his sons down, this one smelt of many battles and more blood…victory would be more satisfying that bashing the whelp…..

But less certain

<Chk!>

Just as Melron thought he had arranged for single combat the ‘smaller’ Feeorins, still as large as himself in armour and fifty years at the youngest opened fire.

With instinct borne of painful experience he surrounded himself in a powerful kinetic and energy absorptive shield that within seconds cracked beneath the combined weight of a dozen laser lances and the blizzard fire of gattling lasers.

Only his preternatural reflexes allowed him stay one step ahead of their fire as he micro teleported to the side firing off another two arrows and sending his four shikkar daggers weaving through the rubble millimetres off the ground.

Blackstone arrows shattered chests inwards, glass shikkar cracked ninety degrees to plunge up into the thigh gaps in the Feeorins armour, the handle snapping off as the enchanted blades wound inside their abdomen seeking the warmest organs to plunge through.

Fury as four of his dozen sons dropped lifeless drove the Beast of a Feeorin to charge with speed most beings would find astounding for its size.

Melron took the full brunt of the tank like Feeorin as he would the punishing charge of a Vorynx, lowering his centre of gravity to avoid being toppled.

The Laser beams preventing him from dodging fully he took the spiked shoulder into his chest plate, responding with two combat daggers that scraped against the hardened back plate – they did little good the Feeorins hide was tough as Vosis scales.

Grunting Melron pushed toward the mind but found only obdurate incomprehensibly semi senile alien thoughts.

The mag train power kept pushed against him and Melron charged his Lighting shield, Gyl stiffened and broke off lashing out with his one spiked fist while gripping the haft of his cahin axe off his back.

The lighting melted off the pain and popped the rubber undersuit but had little effect on the Feeorin whose aetheric ‘callous’ proved a hypothesis Valens had that some long lived species, Gen’Dai, Feeorins, wookies, developed this resistance, Gyl was proof of concept.

The Colossus bashed down his chain axe against Melron’s oblivion armour, the ratcheting adamanitum teeth of the blade chipping into the utlradense stone with flecks of yellow. 

Melrons’s Black Stone sword cleaved plate after plate of the Feeorins armour in reply, discarded pieces rattling about as their feet twisted and ground to find stability against each others blows.

The Feeorins sons barked plans over the shattering clash of blows to surround them, their fire only held to prevent hitting their own progenitor, Blaze their original target all but forgotten as he gazed listlessly through bloodshot eyes as he Old Man fought his battle for him. 

The Feeorin was of such an age as to be stronger than an Aethan – an exceptional circumstance requiring Melron to draw on the Aether match raw strength.  They both possessed speed born of decades of training, precision and brutal technique from surviving years of unrelenting war.

Melron dodged the chain axe that was losing teeth against his armour each time it struck, responding with Van-wo into Djen Sha – low strike into high flourish to keep this opponent moving his guard creating opportunities between motions.

Both revelled in the knife edge thrill of a fight they did not completely dominate after so long being supreme.

Melron pushed against the unstoppable brute, limbs flashing red mind with fatigue, teeth gritted, the damn chain axe had taken serious chunks of Mark 1 Oblivion Armour, reverberations from the metronome blows shattered the internal circuitry, the aether callous kept his telekinetic attacks blunted as his sword.

Gyl ground forward against the immoveable enemy, grinding and gaining inexorably. Gyl knew his situation was precarious, the Old Man had been methodical in cutting most of his armoured plating off and keeping him at the limit of his dexterity, forcing him to keep the enemy dead centre to avoid being out manoeuvred.
His chain axe had lost three quarters of its teeth to the ultradense armour, little better than a club now.

Straining with each thrust, burning with each clash they ground each other down into exhaustion in three minutes of dealing and taking blows any one of which would leave a lesser species little more than broken bones and sloughing meat.

Finally a gap, the slightest miscalculation, trusting in the aether the Old Man fashioned a blade like sliver of metaphysical energy to spiral round and behind the Feeorin – the Force-callous blunted much, Gyl growled in agony at the rest.

Melron pressed the advantage with elbow and blade, yet the Sen-Ro-Wo – ‘Severing Low – Flourish’ of the Morgukai came too early, he overestimated the Feeorins reaction speed – Gyl’s diminished with fatigue, Melron’s did not – the expected block was not there, weight committed to the wrong motion for a fraction of a second…

Gyl did react in time – gripping the Aethan’s arm and hurling him with strength developed over centuries quickly away to gain space.

Instinct slammed telekinetic buffers to avoid a crash but still the Old Man tumbled landing in a clatter beside Blaze who stared at him in a near insensate state.

“You come to finish me off Old Man….” The question having no bearing to the imminent danger of the regrouping Feeorins and Gyl lurching toward them murder in his eyes.

“…broke the rules…” the boy’s speech more blood than sound
“…hurt a girl, took your ship…mutinied hehe…” through bloodshot hazy sight he saw Gyl raise his axe high.

 “…can’t let an outsider kill a Person now can we…your job ain’t it Old Man…”

“I’ll never abandon you Son,” Melron replied voice hoarse from blows to the chest as he staggered in sync with the axe falling down.

It struck on and through the rising Gon-Sha high block, the blade flying from the Old Man’s hands the edge of the chain axes casing smashing his face, the bulk of the thing falling straight at Blaze.

The chipped metal teeth lonely on a near stripped chain belt was the last thing Blaze saw before he passed out.

Melron took every blow for Taryn in penance for his own failings, now, in the past, and the future.

Gyl raged that he wouldn’t just drop dead even as his blows weakened and his sons looked stunned as for the first time their master and father met a being he could not crush in moments.

Nothing would move him, Melron would take the pain meant for Taryn Now, for all the pain he couldn’t save Taryn from Then.

Behind bloody arms Melron could see even the mighty Feeorin now heaving with exhaustion, each hammer fist against sloppy guard was weaker, if their biological endurance was equal, Melron’s advantage was he could draw on the aether to keep him upright and shore up the worse damage he was subject to, without it he would’ve been shattered.

There was no sensation in his body, Aephordaea’s grace had flooded him with anaesthetising hormones and cleared his mind of anything but the immediate need for survival and protection of the child behind him.

This need gave him strength to push back now.

With ragged but precise combo’s the Old Man hammered the durasteel like muscles of the Feeorin, smashing his face when he could, the far weaker calcium based bones began to crack beneath the heavy flesh.

Gyl had been beaten before…but not for a century…he was almost laughing amidst the grunts at the novelty of it all.

He waited or his sons to intervene as Melron bashed him to his knees, the Old Man’s knuckles raw and bleeding.

Gyl could not see behind the tiny humanoid thrashing him - Four beings in unforgettable light sucking armour stalking toward Blaze body, one hefting him up with one hand, another levitating pieces of ruined oblivion armour off the ground.

Melron was shaking, his body about to yield, he fell to his knees, two heads shorter than Gyl…it looked like they were kneeling chanting and bobbing their heads on tatami mats. Gyl barely able to raise his arm slapped the Aethan across the face sending him to the ground.

Melron indifferently fired a kinetic blast that sent the huge creature collapsing backwards.

The Housi stood unnerved at what four of these Oblivion creatures might do to them now their father had been forced into a bloody draw with just one of them. 

Their nerve all but broke as they realised the darkness above was not from the dust but a triangular shaped vessel hovering ominously silent directly above peppered by hellfire red lights.

<jnnhhk…kraaaassshh> Gyl struggled – back…lift - dragging himself away.

Lyaea, Jarys, Lydan and Milaea stood stone still just behind Taryn, the Aertemisaea hovering above them, cannons trained on the Feeorins by Kassyndra and Adaea waiting for the word to unleash the MASER cannons. 
(https://i.ibb.co/pxJ3yD8/destroyer-atmos-1-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/1L896V5)
They could not help Melron…he had to rescue and retrieve Taryn himself to fulfil his sentence.

But they could stand there and look menacing.

Struggling to his feet Melron locked eyes for a moment with Gyl one last time, two warriors who were both getting too old for this kind of thing shared an unspoken respect and resolution to let this vendetta go, it was not worth it for either of them.

Through the red dust strewn debris, nose choked with sand the Old Man finally retrieved the lost child of Aethas.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 22, 2020, 04:03:36 AM
Chapter 12 — Inferno of Regret — Part 3

Epilogue

“This is frelling boring…” he said to no one
“I feel fine!” he now shouted in the clean blue and white of the medical bay in Mount Aelia.

At first he thought it another, less pleasant near death dream, till the red haze of discomfort made him realize he was all too alive.

“Will you quit you whining?” Lyaea stabbed back standing in the door way

“How long have you been there?”

She just rolled her eyes

“How are you feeling,”

“Fan-Frelling-Tastic…”

“Surprising given you beat up you got,”

“Surprising is I ain’t dead, all I remember is the Old Man showing up, getting creamed by that Feeorin Mountain then the axe splatting my head,”

“Almost splatting your head,”

“how’d he manage that?

“You only saw Melron, we had backup who intervened in time…once Jarys was on the scene the Feeorin’s lost their enthusiasm for the fight,”

“No shavit wonder…” he paused

“Where is the old man, suppose I ought to thank him…”

Lyaea patted his cheek and stood up

“You’ll have plenty of time to soon, for now try and sleep…when you’re done here…you have a lot of bridges to rebuild…”

She strode to the door deliberately swaggering her hips a little more than usual, her thermal senses picking up just the response she wanted.

With a coy smile she closed the door.

“So you’ve forgiven him?” Milaea asked of Taryn in the corridor having just finished with Melron, his worst injuries repaired he now needed only time.

“Blaze offended me…not Taryn…” Lyaea smiled.

After the fight they had taken both Melron and Taryn straight to the Aethenaea’s medical suites, there Milaea had attended to Melron while Lyaea attended to…

“You didn’t heal Blaze did you Lyaea…” Milaea realised

“You Rebuilt Taryn as it pleased you, mentally at least,”

Lyaea’s smile was as mischievous as it was victorious.

Milaea’s stern look in reply reflected her mixed opinion, Blaze had proven dangerous, but trying to change his personality was what had caused him to turn rabid last time…no doubt Lyaea had been more thorough this time with his damaged and undefended mind….

It eliminated the risks, but it meant they would never know whether he might have recovered emotionally and culturally on his own.

Milaea ought to chastise her…a Jedi would…but such was not her role…a Person almost beyond broken had been recovered, revitalized and reintegrated…given the circumstances it was a win for the People.

She simply sighed away the imperfection of the means and smiled for the ends sliding her arm under Lyaea’s

“So…what do you have planned for your next date?”

<<<<>>>>

“Fina….” Taryn stopped short of finishing his sentence as the door slid open, instead of Lyaea it was the Old Man.

“Well…you look like dren,” Taryn said honestly

“And feel like it son…” he tossed a string bound package onto his bed with a smile

“But so do you, now…get dressed, your training continues in an hour,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 27, 2020, 04:06:52 AM
Chapter 12 — Maternal Instinct — Part 1

Xani
(https://i.ibb.co/BZ9ZbLk/Xan-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/BZ9ZbLk)
Her mother called her Xani.

The other children called her “Freak” or “Monster”.

The gangs and syndicates called her “Prey”.

When she was little, when Father and Mother were with her, she would do tricks for the other children with her ‘powers’ as they called them.  She rarely knew what she was doing then, but she enjoyed it and got better at it.  Mother encouraged her to experiment, and would tell her stories of their real home before she went to sleep.

It was a place Xani couldn’t imagine.  A place of green, blue and yellow, where there were trees and rivers in place of sewers and support columns.   She saw a picture of a tree once, or something she thought was a tree, she couldn’t be sure, it looked like a column but wasn’t straight and had green hair.

She missed those times curled up with her mother in their small room waiting for father to return.  She felt safe then.  She had been too young to understand.

Then one day Father had not come back.

Mother had waited for nearly a week, then when the owner of the building started demanding the rent every hour she bundled her up and left.

Xani didn’t understand why at the time.  Still didn’t now, not really. 

They went from place to place, but never stayed for long, heading ever deeper into the underlevels, where faces were pallid, eyes dark and wide taking in every photon they could.

Xani thought it an adventure, there was always something new to see, different smells and sounds, her mother would smile as Xani free from adult worries took in the novelties.

Without Father there, they harassed mother, offered her trinkets, food…Xani was so hungry sometimes she wondered why Mother didn’t take it. 

She understood now.  They were traffickers, slavers, whatever they offered would be tainted, was a lure to draw you in and never let you out.

Others didn’t even try to ply them, they just attacked.  Mother used her powers, sometimes even Xani used hers.  Blue flares from her finger tips would melt skin from bones, anger would crush bodies inward, on send rubbish flying into eyes and necks.

Once that happened, and it always happened, they couldn’t stay anymore, someone always told the Syndicates, and the Syndicates were bad men Mother and Father had told her.

So they went deeper and deeper, got hungrier and hungrier.

They found a small hovel beneath a mag-train bridge.  Mother would still sing songs, tell stories and make toys out of things she found after washing them.

One day Mother told her to wait and she did.

She waited for a long time.  Xani never understood time much, it didn’t mean a lot when she’d never seen a sunrise or sunset in her whole life.

Xani couldn’t wait anymore, she was hungry, thirsty.  She had to leave.

She left a message scrawled on the ferrocrete with a piece of metal.

Somehow though…she knew Mother was not coming back.

Xani didn’t know what else to do but what had been done before. 

She went from place to place seeking out other groups of lost children.

Again she would show them tricks with her powers, make little patterns with the blue from her fingers for food or a blanket, a place closer to a fire.  Some were nice, for a little while at least.

It helped her survive hour by hour…it never lasted…soon the syndicates would come.  She never saw them she felt them, it was a chill along her spine, the hairs on her neck rising despite the grease and dirt that otherwise kept them pinned to her sweated grotty skin.

She got that feeling and knew she had to leave.

This was her life. 

From hovel to hovel, outcast group to orphan gang she would run, lithe and lean, strong from prying open old access panels or heavy rusted rubbish bins to find a place to sleep for a few hours, hands and feet raw from lack of protection against the cracked concrete and metal shards on the ground.

But still she tried to have fun, played counting games, remembered funny new things she saw, puzzled at old flimsy with words on it and what they meant.

And when she did find somewhere safe to sleep for a little while she would think about the Home mother had spoken of, wonder if it were real, and wish she woke up in it.

<<<<>>>


Selaena
(https://i.ibb.co/DLJxpH4/Selaena.png) (https://ibb.co/DLJxpH4)
It had been three days since she had been down here…yet nearly three months since Selaena visited with anyone else.

Light grey of the turbo lift matched by a clean chime as the doors opened to the coldest and deepest vault beneath mount Aelia, the Fortress Mountain almost complete.

“Chilly…” Jenaea noted wrapping her arms about her, having spent most of her time outdoors with Maeson of late in the springtime sun.  Selaena was happy for them finding comfort and connection in each other, just as her Lydan had with Adaea…as to her daughter with Taryn….

She lead to a large Blackstone wall, to all appearances an uncompleted section of the mountain, until with a deft aetheric tweak Selaena moved the vast block of ultradense material aside revealing a clinical white tunnel that blasted out cool air.

“Is this where we keep winter?” Jenaea raised a sarcastic brow recovering her snide sense of humor, a good sign of progress and no doubt also part of her working through her trauma’s, sardonic commentary was one of the few ways a slave could take attain some sense of reprisal.

For Selaena it had been withholding communication, silent protest against the myriad abuses of outsiders, and for long after until she had been reunited with her daughter then son.

“Something far better,” Selaena explained as they headed a further fifteen meters before turning, a quick hand and eye scan then a pulse of her aetheric presence into an orb hidden in the door frame to open the seal.

Blue-White Chiss lumens lit the freezing lab clustered with arrays of refrigerators, sealed medical tools, small humidi-cribs and powered down bulbous Maternity droids, all crisp with a hint of frost, along the back was sealed in azure amber were the twenty clone babies they had recovered from Kamino a year and a half ago, a small bloodstone totem of the goddesses placed inside each amnio-vat as they slept in stasis.

“Was not expecting that…so it’s cold to keep them…fresh?”

“Stable yes…” Selaena replied as Jenaea looked about the room.  It was very familiar to Selaena, she would visit here twice a week at least to check in on the unmoving infants, having taken it upon herself to be their protector and monitor.

Selaena’s own children were growing beyond needing her, one married already, and would have their own children soon.

But she was not past needing them.

Selaena had always wanted another child, or two, but less than plentiful harvests after Lyaea was born meant there simply wasn’t the food available…and then…the Devastation had intervened.

Her husband among the lost, most likely long dead on some forgotten world.  She had never considered remarrying – even if there were any eligible males – she was Lysan’s wife and Lyaea and Lydan’s mother.

Checking on the frozen babies soother some maternal drives. She would look in on each of the twenty, 10 girls and 10 boys, in turn, note how they looked like their primogenitors even at this young age, Valens had harvested the necessary genetic material from fallen guardians, Old Andis, Karintha, Yorna….

The last held a bitter remembrance of the creature Lucovis that had taken another clone of Yorna and artificially aged it with the genetic slurry of nine other clones.

She often thought she might awaken the Yorna clone, adopt it as her own….

But between the search for survivors and the rebuilding of their world the People at present simply did not have the capacity to raise twenty babies, or spare anyone to care for one.

“So this is our future…” Jenaea’s voice, at last lacking and irony, broke Selaena’s introspection
“Seems so cold here…and quiet,”

Selaena agreed it was cold, but enjoyed the quiet, here Selaena could relax, comforted knowing each of these precious children was safe under her gaze…some consolation for all those not so secure lost to the ravenous Outside.

“Until we are ready for them,” Selaena replied, “Here they will wait,”

<<<<>>>>

Plains of cool green grasses stretched before beneath the orange tinge of the setting sun.

Three herds of Gormin each two hundred strong grazed and played in safety as her son sat on a small hill with a full view of the area, his staff close by, beside him leathers stretching on wooden squares as he worked a new satchel.

In the lower valley her daughter Lyaea and daughter in law Adaea were introducing Jenaea to the youngest gormin calves, throwing woven straw balls for them to chase.

“Are you alright,” Maeson said sitting beside her on the hill. 

She didn’t answer, didn’t need to, Maeson and Jarys had rescued her, seen her at her worst, been with her through all those years with the Sons, he understood and resected her silence.

“Thank you for taking Jenaea to see the babies, did her good to see there is a real future, new life…”

He went on

“Still no more signals so far…we were lucky  to get two I think…no word from Mumbles either, strange.”

The only motion she displayed was a barely perciptable tremor in the limbs.

“Restless,” Maeson surmised, in older times with the Sons her restlessness would equate to mercilessness in the next raid or skirmish.  Selaena, he had come to learn, found it hard to sit alone with her thoughts, she needed something outsider herself to focus on – Outsiders to kill to children to obsesses over.

As he followed her gaze over the sunset covered plains to her ever more adult children he realized how being denied the latter outlet was the more frustrating, her visits to the clone babies less protective than obsessive need to do something.

A brief nod confirmed all his observations, followed by a sigh that there was little that could really be done.

Evening closed faster than she expected as she watched her children call the herds in after a day of peaceful play, a sense someone was missing from the scene gnawing emptily in her hungry stomachs.

A sad smile she headed to their long house for a plentiful dinner.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 27, 2020, 04:07:59 AM
 
Chapter 12 — Maternal Instinct — Part 2


Xani

The jagged piece of glass struggled through the unkempt locks.

It was important to cut her hair often, not just cause it kept away the lice, but also the less girly she looked the less she was bothered.  A mangy hooded cloak that had more prior owners than Xani had name days concealed her increasingly feminine features.

She knew that it wouldn’t be long before she started to develop other less easy to conceal features…assuming she ate well of course…

For now all she had was a handful of crumbed over dried ‘Portions’ that she chewed on while looking once more through her sack as if hoping while she slept something had changed.

There were three half charged batteries, a shiv, blaster casing – no trigger or power pack – and some coils she’d stripped from a crashed speeder.

It wasn’t much but should trade for a few portions with the right fence, maybe if she could ‘press’ a little.  How it worked she wasn’t sure but if she wanted something really badly her brain seemed to ‘push’ out on people, her mother and father had done that too, she must’ve learned it from them.

It didn’t always work…a Toydaraian had set his thugs on her when she tried once, Xani out ran them but again had to move on…that was two dozen levels and hundreds of grimy streets ago.

Her cloak pulled tight she wound through the neglected streets crowded with likewise hobbling arms crossed figures keeping their possessions tight.

She kept to the center of the road, rusted balconies and dark alcoves on the side filled with ‘snatchers’ grabbing anyone weak and slow, dragging them into buildings never to be seen again.

There were no incidents, she reached the small grotty store unmolested.  The Ithorian within had plaid grey flesh and a raspy groaning voice, so far as she knew this was normal for the strange creatures kind.

<What you want?> it asked in its rumble from behind the electric grate, two battered red eyed battle droids just inside the door.

“T…trade…” He pushed her batteries in the hollow that sealed round them, ran a scan for explosives, then the other side opened, behind the grate so the Ithorian could inspect it.

<Trade, this is junk! No trade go!>

“Please!” she pressed with her head “Just half a portion!”

Come on work! she willed

The Ithorians head lolled briefly its strange eye bulbs blinked…

<You go now> the whirr of the droid blasters charging signaled it was time to run.

She spun and scuttled out as fast as she could, the loss of three batteries hurting.

<<<<>>>>

It was one of the more uncertain and dangerous ways to get credits…but she was out of options.

The Green Light Mile as it was called was one of the wider streets, rough worn ferrocrete coated in slick oils, spit and other fluids, gaudy fluro graffiti on walls between lumen lit entrances to various bars, ‘dance’ houses and brothels as a hundreds species of two dozen genders dressed in tight plas-cloth propositioned passers by.

Despite it all Xani found a beauty in it, she liked the myriad colours, such a nice change from the brown and grey of the rest of the universe she lived in, and would often keep small colourful objects to look at, until they were stolen lost or had to be traded away.  She imagined flowers being like that, colourful but fleeting.

Xani kept away from the main street where the worst excesses of drug fueled violence were kept down by the local Bosses goons who’s only identifying signage from other gangers and miscreants  was a red broken triangle on black cloth.

She kept away from them too, they were just as bad.

Staying low she waited in the small nooks and alleys between and behind the main houses, raucous laughter and ear numbing music pounding out making it easy to move unheard.

In little over fifteen minutes she had her first chance.

Out of the back of one establishment a chunky bearded being stumbled out vomiting onto the ground.

Fast as possible she sped toward him still midstream steam hissing off the heated stomach acids and took the chance to pluck what she could from his pocket.

”Stealing is wrong Xani,” her mother had said
”You shouldn’t take things from other People without asking, but there are no other People here, so we can take what we need, but must be careful to only take what we need”

Xani never quite understood what her mother meant by ‘People’ as opposed to people, it was confusing to her, but had something to do with their home her mother talked about.

For the next few hours she continued the pattern plucking what she could from drunk, unconscious, dead, or ‘copulating’ beings she could get to in time.

She wasn’t the only one, she saw at least six other children or small sentient’s plying the same trade who got there before her sometimes.  It was after she noticed they all had a similar clammy white wrist band on one or three hands she knew she had to leave, she was encroaching on their territory – during rush hour they were too busy - but once that was over they would turn on her as an intruder.

Creeping round at the far end of the Green Light Mile she stopped behind a steaming trach compactor as three adults stumbled out a side door laughing and clapping each other, their clothes unusually clean.

“I can’t believe you did that,” the first laughed
“Schutta should’ve thanked me!” said the second
“Boring bitches anyway, hey check this out found it in the ‘fresher” a third jostled in

As they stared at something or rather Xani scooched close t the wall to make her escape. 

Glancing only briefly to ensure they were still oohing over whatever the third had to show she caught a glimpse of a face, clean skin, red hair, green eyes and smooth refined features like

Mother?

She stopped in the shadows an looked more closely,

“Hehehe, look at those two with the bow and arrow, freaky,”

They were flicking through a small book full of clear skin and red tones she could make out as undressed bodies…like those that she saw on advertising-holos along the Green Light Mile – anything outside of the Bosses protection was soon looted – but these were different some how, showing something that the three adults found stimulating but Xani found familiar and compelling…

While they looked at the fleshy features with each page flip she focused on hat surrounded them, garlands of flowers, bows, animals, pottery…things she had only seen drawn by her father on an ancient graphite etch-pad when drawing stories for her…

Stories of Goddesses and Children of Goddesses, women mighty, cunning, clever and funny…

They flicked to the final page, even in the icky artificial green and blue lights that flickered neon shadows she could makes out the words on the back page.

“You think we can find these Voops?”
“Bet even you’re mama couldn’t afford em could get look a likes, there’s a red head down at Heego’s,”

Arts of Aephrodaea Exhibition — Touring Chandrilla, Coruscant, Corellia, Alderaan, Naboo, Lorrd…

“Aephrodaea…” she whispered far too loudly attracting their attention

“Huh,” one looked straight at her…

Without even noticing she was walking toward them, a strange compulsion to take the booklet off them, an innate knowledge it contained something of inestimable importance to her that Outsiders could only blaspheme by looking upon it.

“What you want little schutta, a chit,” another scowled “Get frelled,”

“He…” the middle one with greenish skin and strange cranial undulations laughed
“…not a bad idea…” he stuffed the booklet in his pocket and stepped toward her.

“Seriously a street rat, you are flippin’ Wizard man, probably diseased as a Hutt exhaust!”

She should be running, using her power to throw things to block their pursuit…but the edge of the booklet in their pocket beckoned to her, filled with pictures of women who looked so much like her mother.

“Hold the little wretch down, we’ll see how many ways it can take it,”

The sudden grip of the three fingered hand on her upper arm snapped her out of the malaise and into a fiery scream.

“MOTHER HELP”

“Grab the Schutta!” another grasped her from the other side

“Frell it’s heavy” they struggled to lift her as she kicked and cried pushing her onto the flat top of the trash compactor, the middle one unbuckling his syth leather pants.

Terror and instinct combined in her need for self preservation, an uncontrollable urge to escape that manifested in a way her attackers could not anticipate.

“Ashla’s tight arse!” one screamed as his hands burnt with blue fire

Her entire body was humming with blue energy that crawled up the arms of those holding her and seared their skin, the middle one fumbled back as she jumped off and rushed up to him.

“FREAK!” he pulled a glowing blade from his jacket as he dodged her attempt to grab the booklet

“Get her you mangy kowakians!”

They were surrounding her on all sides, but it was the inside that scared her the most, a bubbling cold heat within that needed to be let out, the power her mother had tried to teach her in the scant moments not foraging for food needed to be released.

Opening her panic tightened fist Xani let it out.

Three bolts of crackling blue white struck each of the adults in an instant as if drawn to them like magnets.

They flew back under the kinetic impact and burnt internally from the eldritch electrical energies.

Trembling and afraid Xani ran past grabbing the booklet that had flown from the pocket into the gluggy gutter and never looked back.

<<<<>>>>

 
Selaena

Two words.

It was only two words but it had cut her to the heart.

She was in the vault with the babies when her link orb flared with the message.  Now it hovered before her, aetheric ghosts of the others projected about her.

“Mother Help,” were the words the Obelisk had picked up, even now Milaea and Adaea were tracing the signal as best they could filtering and refining so they could get a reasonable aetheric profile to track at closer range.

The others spoke about preparations needed, Selaena simply listened to the words over an over.

Her was a Person lost.  Afraid.  Alone.

No, not just a person she realized

“It’s a child…barely a teenager,”

“You’re certain?” Valens floating upper body asked unsure that there could be any Aethans born after the Devastation

“Certain,” Selaena confirmed, she would know that slight higher pitch in voice and resonance anywhere

“Yes…she’s right,” Kassyndra confirmed “It means this child was born…”

“We will soon learn the circumstances,” Valens assured them “Brother, see to it,”

“No,” Selaena interrupted barley consciously, her eyes looking through the arrayed vision of the People to the still baby clone of Yorna beyond.
“I have to help this child…I’ll go,”

Valens inclined his head he could not contradict a female even in his role as war chief unless absolutely critical.

“Very well, who will you take with you,”

Selaena had not thought that far ahead, but of course there could only be one answer,

“All my children of course,”

That would include Lyaea, Lydan and also Adaea now she was Selaena’s daughter by marriage.

“That is four…more should join you…” Valens counselled, they could not be spread thin nor risk going in without sufficient force, both Jenaea and Taryn’s rescues had proven the benefits of moving in numbers…but they needed some to remain on Aethas in case other signals were detected.  As it stood only Jarys, Kiraea and Valens had permission to venture anywhere alone.

“Perhaps we could go,” Melron spoke up

“Taryn’s training is going well, but a change of scene could help explore new avenues for improvement and advancement,”

Selaena’s eyes narrowed, Taryn and Lyaea together worried her…he had already insulted her daughter once…but at least she would be there to monitor them…and she should at least give him a chance, Lyaea had insisted she had removed the uncouth remnants of his od life from him.

“Any objections?” Valens queried

“We need to hurry,” was Selaena’s only reply – she was already running to the Turbo lift.

<<<<>>>>

Orna S’esh

Fleshy strands on her head circled by small ringlets glittered under the bright white lights of the medical centre as she waited.

At the corner of the ward to the turbo lift was the first of her attendants, the white skinned Nagai Hei Etsan looking bored despite the gaudy bright colors of his electromesh amour and ribald green and pink hair, the dour Kiffar Qarn speaking on the comm.

“Madame, we have two witnesses, pickpockets, they broadly corroborate Jnoor’s story,”

Madame S’esh nodded.  The Vulkan woman controlled near half of Carratos underworld however indirectly, and now had all her vassals searching for the one who had placed her son Omil in hospital.

Jnoor, one of his two companions that night had died half an hour earlier of his inexplicable internal injuries, not before Qarn had extracted a bizarre tale of a made man attacking them with some kind of electrical discharge weapon behind a brothel.

“How does it differ?” Hei asked sauntering over, the Nagai had a flair for the dramatic.

“The pickpocket says they were pinning an urchin down about to…use it for their pleasure,”

Madame’s mouth twitched with irritation at her son’s folly.  He was a fool, a lustful, childish violent fool, drug user and rapist who no matter her attempts would still escape on jaunts with his ‘pals’ using her name and reputation to secure free booze, stimms and vugu.

A hundred times he had done so, a hundred times she had blasted him for his stupidity afterwards.

Not this time.

“The urchin then started glowing, exploded some kind of self defense weapon outward, possibly a charged suit…then fled into the warrens…”

The Kiffar scratched at his stubble, the green Qukuuf under his eyes circled round in his cheeks then met again at his chin, symbols of a clan he had long since parted ways with, much like Hei who had lost all ‘honor’ in the Nagai system.

Carratos in the inner rim was often referred to as the Poor Man’s Coruscant, not quite an ecumenopolis, and now off the main trade routes it stumbled along with low population growth and anemic industries, a decaying undercity beneath the main skyscrapers, its biggest claim to fame now was its moon covered in trash.   Once it had been part of a small group of critical worlds in the inner core as civilization bloomed and faster than light travel still took weeks…but that was many centuries if not millennia ago.

It was a place that attracted the likes of the three of them, a quiet but urbanized backwater where the slightly above average nothing on any another world could become something in the small stagnant pond.

“I will inspect the scene…” Qarn possessed the unusual Kiffar ability of Psychometry…a fact that had caused his exile in time past and served as a useful tool in his role as enforcer now – he was the straight man to Hei’s caricature like extravagance as her assassin.

“…and also his clothes if I may,”

Madame simply nodded as the door hissed open. The Siniteen doctor wrinkled cranium, looking as old as she felt, had a dour look.

“Madame…I’m sorry your son…”

Her world ended.

<<<<>>>>

Qarn

“Well?” Hei demanded impatiently juggling a chit as Qarn stood over the scene hand hovering just above the surfaces feeling out what had occurred.

At first he thought it had to be an intentional hit, Madame’s control over the bosses was firm but fair, even so there was always someone with more ambition than sense.

Now he doubted that.  It seemed more as if Madame’s son Omil had tried to rape the wrong being.

Omil was a little spoiled dren, everyone knew it, few would weep at his loss, many would cheer.  But he was Madame’s son, and whether it was a hit, or merely self-defense, his death could not go unavenged.

It had taken nearly an hour for anyone to find him, by then the pickpockets had already spread the story, and Madame could not be seen as weak, more importantly she wanted revenge, if it took her whole organization to achieve it, she would have it.

“I have an image…” Qarn finally answered scrawling the ‘after image’ of – what he considered – the actual victim on his datapad – the face was young, human, male or female was difficult to tell, but he leaned toward the latter based on the more rounded features.

“Enough for a little doodle?” Hei giggled

“Yes,” by doodle Hei meant a sketch to provide to their men and the under bosses of the being to search for, and if necessary the professional hunters, though for Madame’s sake it would be better to do this in house, to have to hire professionals to find her son’s killer would make her operations look incompetent and increase the prestige loss.

“Strange…” Qarn went on even as he completed the sketch

“She took something from Omil’s pocket…”

“But he still had all his chits and code cylinders…”

“Exactly…what did she take worth more than that?”

Hei strode across and knelt beside him

“Perhaps mama’s boy was into something nastier than the usual slice and shove…”

“I fear so…”

<<<<>>>>

Xani
(https://i.ibb.co/nD2Yzcn/Xan-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/nD2Yzcn)
She had barely caught her breath after hours of running, jumping, crawling and climbing to escape and find somewhere relatively safe to hide in.

Her knees and elbows were exposed for the holes worn into them, but her pockets sewn inside her clothing were still full of chits and small pieces of jewelry she had pickpocketed, and more than all that she had the booklet.

In a nook between an ammonia exhaust and a building she flicked it open to read it by the artificial lights of the mag-trains top lights below as the vehicles moved constantly back and forth over the ruination of bodies thrown there for disposal…or jumped there for escape.

The pages were filled with image of the Goddesses her parent had told her stories about.  What others saw as lewd meaningless exploitation she saw as proof at last that the Home mother had spoken of was real, these women live there…there was Aertemisaea with her bow, Aephrodaea with her garlands and animal friends, Aethenaea reading her books – all in the caverns or on the green fields.

She looked again at the back page that listed this exhibition…a word she was not familiar with…she knew the names of some of the cities but not others…but how could she ever get there?

Xani didn’t even know the name of the city she was in, only that it had always been around her.  Perhaps she could find a map to Coruscant and walk…how far could it be. 

A growl in her stomachs reminded her of a more immediate need.  As the excitement of the booklet dropped off she could feel her hunger burn, fortunately she had at least some credits now.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 27, 2020, 04:08:57 AM
 
Chapter 12 — Maternal Instinct — Part 3


Selaena

“Right so where we headed sweet cheeeeeee….”

Taryn’s playful  pronouncement as he stepped into the Aertemisaea viewing a pleasing firm and familiar woman’s rear bent over in front of a box was cut short as he realised it was not Lyaea but her mother.

“…eeeepers, Swee Cheepers, yeah it’s a, place, erm, we headed there or….”

Melron behind slapped him gently on the back of the head

“Look with the aether and your eyes boy…take the cases in,” the Old Man shook his head

“He’s getting there slowly,” Melron sighed

Selaena nodded, the Recording Orb that held the aetheric signature of the child.  Milaea and Adaea had narrowed the location to somewhere not that far from Coruscant, taking position in the rough middle of the search area and using the Aetheric Nexus Chamber she should be able to detect the child the next time she used the aether…

If she is alive to…

Melron quickly sensed her anxiety, he had felt exactly the same when looking for Taryn,

“We’ll find her, get her out quickly and quietly, less than a week she’ll be safe in the caverns,”

<<<<>>>>

 
Xani

Hands in pockets, head down she made herself small as possible moving through to the street vendor.

There were far more of the Bosses men about than usual, it looked like they were going door to door looking for something.

Shuffling up to the small metal grate above a chunky drawer used for trade she whispered her order.

“Three portions please…” she never forgot her manners, mother wouldn’t want her too.

The drawer slammed out with a rude clang for her to put the chits in which she did so.

There was a pause as no doubt they were verified…but the pause went longer than she thought.  She looked up at the black glassy bulb that served as a security camera and only way for the seller to see their customers from behind the armored boxy stall face.

With a mechanical ‘vrrr’ it zoomed in on her.

Her back turned ice cold – every time it did that she knew there was trouble

Shuffling feet stopped behind her, power pack whirred up.

She ran.

<<<<>>>>

There were at least eight of them, all from her brief glances backward had the symbol of the red triangle on black cloths or bandana’s.

Her speed was tempered by her hunger, and annoyance at the loss of the credits for nothing.

As she slid and leapt over pipes, under walkways and shimmied between trash compactors she wondered if this was all worth that little booklet.

She decided it was – after so long since her mother had been gone it was the only thing that made her feel warm and truly happy again.

My Sunny Xani” her father had said to her, she was always so cheerful, finding fun and colour almost by instinct.

Even as she ran now she imagined they were not pitied ferrocrete pillars she duck and dove around but real trees, the blaster shots avian swooping.

It made her go that bit faster, finally coming to a large boulevard where skiffs and hover cars threaded through.

The leader of the group behind her sneered that they had her trapped.

She bit her lip and gripped the booklet. 

Goddesses make me lucky!

<<<<>>>>

 
Selaena
(https://i.ibb.co/k4M8L9h/Sel-r1-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/k4M8L9h)
“CHUUUN!” the grating voice of Yhum yelled across the storage room, in an instant thrity Extolled warriors and fifteen Shapers and attendants spun to face their avatars arms crossed over their chests, fists on opposite shoulders in the us-hrok sign of deference.

“Belek Tui knotte Yun’o!” he continued – Command Us Beloved of the Gods

In their midst were five experimental Vong-Vorynx hybrid creatures, trained to be somewhat more placid than normal Vorynx they had their senses enhanced by the Extolled shapers with the hopes of making them better able to track down Aethans for rescue…and not attack them of course.

Selaena despised the filthy Far Outsiders and their horrendous customs, but for the sake of the enormous biotechnological advantages they could offer the People she held her disgust in check enough to not slaughter them.

“Everything is ready,” Lyaea beside her queried

Selaena would not speak to them though, she only spoke to Outsiders through the language they truly heard, that of violence.

“It is glorious Avatar of the Thousand Eyed Deliverer, we hunger to join you once more in glorious battle against the heretics and blasphemers!”

Yhum was a true believer, zealous and unwavering, none of the People who worked with the Extolled had failed to notice a divide appear in the Extolled, as some became ever more fanatical in their devotions to their ‘avatars’ a small but not insubstantial number seemed to pay mumbled lip service.

It was an issue to address later, the critical fact was the warriors remained completely dedicated, and by satiating their need for battle their ‘battle brethren bond’ to the Aethans was strengthened.

“You will have your chance soon, form into groups of five, prepare your masquers, we search for a lost Avatar,” she knelt before one of the so call ‘Vongynx’

“Use these to track and protect her, together we will further the plans of the Gods!”

<<<<>>>>

“So how are the slice and dice gang?” Taryn asked waiting for them in front of Nexus Chamber II

“Eager as always,” Lya smiled, Selaena offering only a suspicious glance between the pair, she still didn’t trust Taryn.

“Old Man said to watch you use the Orb to try and trace the little scamp, see the theoretical become practical and all that jazz,”

Selaena ignored his conversation and headed into the Bloodstone chamber that would amplify her aetheric sensory ability. 

Gripping the orb that contained the refined aura signature she reached out first to the enchanted walls, then through them to the Blackstone Hull of the Aertemisaea that would act like an enormous antenna in turn.

The ship was stopped at a lagrange point between Courscant and its nearest star system.  Being so close to the core was dangerous, they had to avoid normal hyperlanes – while they trusted in their ships stealth systems, one could not be too cautious.

She touched on the child’s aura, imagining – no accepting it as her own and with the desperate senses of a frantic mother seeking her child she searched.

Minds by the billion lit up her mind then vanished into so much darkness as false matches, through the nearby systems one by one she scanned and scanned looking for a trace…

There seemed to be nothing for hours and hours that were in reality minutes…but each day for a child without anyone to care for them was a century.

Finally in her mind flared a connection to the aura in the orb held tightly to her breast…one that both excited and terrified her.

Goddeses Make me Lucky!

<<<<>>>>

Xani

Drawing on all her power she ran straight through the high speed traffic.

Her clothes whipped about, the polyester half melted from the friction against motion heated air as her pursuers stood dumbfounded at the suicidal action of crossing four lanes of hover car traffic on foot.

The goddesses were with her, they kept her feet firm, pulled her up and pushed her forward to miss the flashing lights –where present at all – upon the sides of the 400kmph vehicles.

Finally she reached the other side, a few tramps slack jawed staring at her.

There was a thrill and fun to it, though she wasn’t keen to try again, puffing as she was she couldn’t if she wanted to.

Jogging down an alley and leaping up rusted ladders she paused for a breath, feeling tired, hungry but also…

Warm…like there was someone looking at her with more than just predatory fury.

Maybe her Mother was looking down upon her.

<<<<>>>>

Selaena

“You’re certain?” Melron clarified

Selaena nodded finger never wavering in the holo projection of the nearby systems

Carratos was the target.

“Not much information about it, city wide planet, population of 2 billion…” Taryn explained scrolling through the data.

“If she uses the aether again we’ll find her quickly, and the Vongynx will help,” Lydan added more upbeat

“I hope so…” Adaea this time holding her husband’s arm “It sounds like she’s in trouble”

“I’ll get us moving,” Lyaea turned from the war room to the double doors to the bridge, “Everyone else get ready and into transports we deploy as soon as we hit the system,”

<<<<>>>>

Orna S’esh
Old shirts, forgotten school books, toys in a corner.

She remembered them all new once.

Her son’s room was unchanged from when he had left it three nights ago.  It would remain so until she was…

Well that wouldn’t be long.

Her comm was buzzing with unanswered petitions from her vassals and underlings, she only took Qarn and Hei’s calls now.  A patrol had cited the killer but lost it across a transit lane.  All her resources were spent on this now, hundreds if not thousands of affiliate gangs and direct foot soldiers.

Such power, such grandeur she had accumulated to no end.

It was all for her son, to give him a life better than her and her loves.  They had been two Vultan refugees from the slums of Corellia with no education but the cunning of the warrens.  They had made something, with blood, toil and sacrifice on Carratos, gained respect, power, wealth they hoped to give to their child.

She ran her hand under the bed she sat on, the ruination of her son began there.  Lewd holo’s and low grade death sticks.  She didn’t begrudge him experimentation and teenage delinquency, but he had never outgrown it, his father passed she had chalked the continued juvenile behavior to grief, but the years rolled on and she had failed to protect him…

She had bodyguards, assassins, pit fighters, but ultimately she had not protected her son from himself – drugs and whores were not a vice to her, they were a mere recreation – Ashla knew she had turned to both after her Love died…but in moderation, something her Son never grasped and she was too coddling to enforce.

The comm beeped once more insistently trying to draw her attention away. She ought to play the part, make the motions, speak the script…and she would…but only until she had her son avenged and then…

Then she would join him.

<<<<>>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 27, 2020, 04:09:31 AM
Chapter 12 — Maternal Instinct — Part 4


Selaena
(https://i.ibb.co/mGyZs9f/AT-D23-EXPO-2017-DISNEY-PARKS-CHAIRMAN-BOB-CHAPEK-ANNOUNCES-NEW-STAR-WARS-THEMED-HOTEL-FOR-WALT-DISN.jpg) (https://ibb.co/mGyZs9f)
She disliked this place already.  It stank of decay and desperation, was cluttered with metal and concrete, a place not fit for a child of the People.  The aether was languid and haggard, the orange tinged sky cut by the profiles of skyscrapers that delved into black undercities.

The large bay they had rented was soon full of their three ships, the Extolled in Masquers leading the Vongynx down, Lyaea giving them direction to begin their search while Melron and Taryn convinced the Customs official of their ‘diplomatic immunity’ and not to worry about the growling four legged beasts sniffing at air and aether.

The customs official placated the Vong set out in groups of five, one of the former Attendant caste of spies and saboteurs, and four warriors to begin the search lead by the beasts.

“Alright,” Lyaea took control effortlessly her focus unrelenting – when the situation called for it
“I’ll go with Taryn and Adaea, try and hack some security systems, Mom you Lydan and Melron find somewhere the aether pools to…”

Selaena shook her head, she would not have her daughter off with Taryn without a full adult, or at all,

“I’ll go with Taryn and Adaea, you look for the nexus, your brother will look after you,”

Lyaea rolled her eyes “Mother I can look after myself…”  both knew the only threat Selaena was concerned about was Taryn, and so did he.

To his credit he did not protest.

“Fine by me,” he sniffed at the air

“I know places like this, went to Taris once, faded grandeur and all that…I know where we can get some info while you lot find the magic mushroom garden,”

Selaena did not suppress the irritated growl.

<<<<>>>>

“That’s not very safe, you know I could probably fix that,” Adaea explained for the fifteenth time.

Selaena should’ve gone with her children rather than these two.

Much as she loved Adaea the younger woman’s compulsion to comment on everything she found wrong with their surrounds was irritating – for on Carratos there was much wrong.

Taryn was a different kind of annoying, seemingly inscrutable in what he was looking for as they wandered from the transit hubs to the nearby entertainment and light industrial districts.

Selaena knew Taryn was not going away, that Lyaea more than fancied him…but for all this she found it hard to give him a chance, once someone injured your child you never forgot, never truly forgave.  At best she hoped he could convince her that it had been ‘Blaze’ who was now dead and cremated.

“Here we are,” Taryn declared as they turned toward a large neon lit cantina – this did nothing to help his case.

“Perfect place to find what we’re looking for,”

“Do you think a young girl would come here?” Adaea asked naively

“No, but publicans are a public service places like this, offering info for a few credits, everyone benefits so no one hurts them, almost a scared law among freebooters.”

Selaena just sneered as they wandered in a shrill beep as they passed a cross shaped scanner.

“’Ey check your weapons!” a Yinchorri complained behind a desk with heavy durasteel lockers behind him

“You Check all your weapons first,” Taryn insisted, the dull Yinchorri immediately turning to check every single weapon in the lockers – at a glance of the vast round blue lit cantina of 542 odd beings it would take the Yinchorri a while.

They attracted little attention with traveler’s cloaks over their armour.

“Those lights are not very energy efficient…” Adaea complained

“Just plug your little slicer in one of those public terminals,” Taryn directed “See what you can scrounge,”

“Oh good idea!”

Taryn sauntered over to the bar raising his fingers
“Three Tatooine Sunrises, no cutting y’hear”

The tender nodded and soon spun up the three orange and red beverages, Taryn slip his hand across the bar then lifted to reveal far more than the drinks cost in clean chits.

“Also after some new runts for my ship, where can we find them?”

<Runts?> Selaena queried
<Runts, like I was, street kids, orphans, look to get off world as hired hands, if out Little Girl Lost made any friends they’d be the ones to ask,>

Selaena was almost impressed, she would never have thought of that.

The bartender took the chits in his greasy fingers

“Down level 388 West Side, the Wrecks they call it, plenty o’ Runts there…” he leaned closer “Just make sure to see Vescid’s first, he runs the West Side of the 300 levels, Red triangle on black band, about 50 or 60 cred’s as a visiting fee and you’ll get no trouble.”

“Right y’are,” Tary replied tilting his glass in what Selaena understood was a ‘cheers’ motion before downing all three sunrises in quick succession.

<Not even a warm buzz…all that clean living and good gut bacteria working a treat> he smiled as they headed toward Adaea

<Anything useful Ada> Selaena asked

<A few things…patched into some closed circuit networks, the local police system seems patchy at best…signal strength is poor, running a scan against Aethan composites will take time over wireless here, their download speeds are horrendous!>

One advantage of such a small closely related population was their facial profiles for Aethan women especially were all very similar, a composite program searching holo or pict footage for such common features could potentially yield fast results.

<Some matches on levels 415 through 390, but they are quite old…>

<Consistent with 388…looks like we have a target.> Taryn concluded.

<<<<>>>>

Lydan
Metal, life, sounds, sights and scent encircled him.  From the steady rhythms and predictable sensation’s of the field this, his first trip to an outsider world, was a shock that threatened to overwhelm him.

The Mark 1 helmet he wore helped, but the presence of his sister and clear focus on retrieving a lost child of the People helped more.

By parkour they descended toward where Melron sensed a conduit amid the natural aetheric flows of this forsaken world, intermittently receiving updates from the Extolled as the Vongxyn scented down any traces of Aethan presence not their own.

“Here….” Melron said pointing ahead. There amidst the small shops and openings to apartments was an oddly placed Fane of some kind amidst the ever more decayed levels closer to the surface.  About it sat a number of beings in thick orange robes seated chanting.

“Strange place for a shrine, what Gods rule here…” Lyaea mused “…those of insufficient maintenance perhaps…”  she sighed growing increasingly bored

“Fine let’s look inside,”

The chanting monk like beings ignored them as they stepped inside.  The minute they crossed the threshold there was a sudden change in the aether, the confused morass senses dissolved into a tranquil but exceedingly deep pool of calm.

Inside everything seemed made of natural substances, tatami flooring and shoji paper room dividers.

An elderly looking Umbaran whose pallid blue tinged skin contrasted hideously with the rich saffron robe sat in the middle of the room alone, seeming to exude the serenity of the aether here.

<Curious creautres…> Melron noted <but the calmer aetheric winds here will make detecting the lost child easier>

“You search for something,” the Umbarana said voice barely a whisper, his eyes still closed

“And what do you know of it?” Lyaea snapped irritated by the outsider interference, blissfully ignoring the fact they had walked into this fane from the street.

“You seek the lost kaadin of your flock, you will find her, but your path will be tainted by the blood of innocents,”

Lydan understood the analogy, they were searching for lost People like he would look for a gormin calf that stumbled away from the herd.

“How do you know so much?” Lydan stepped toward him “Do you sense it from us?”

<Don’t bother brother, these outsiders stumble upon intelligent sentences sometimes pay no heed>

Melron began searching out the aether from this point of calm, but Lydan was interested in this being nonetheless.

“I feel the wake of emotion, one who is with the Force knows the Force,”

<Force the outsider word for the Aether?> he asked telepathically
<Amongst other words…>

“You know the Force, do you create the calmness of it here?” Lydan took one knee to avoid imposing too much above the Umbaran

“The Force holds Peace within, I seek the peace, I channel the Peace,”

<This could be useful…to create a still place within the aether…like when I am on the plains among the herds>

<Very well….> Lyaea mentally sighed

“I wish to learn this peace, will you teach me?” Lydan asked

“The peace is within you already, I can guide you to seek it,”

As the Umbaran opened himself with the force to try and demonstrate the ‘Peace Within’ Lydan sent one of his conscious levels of thought to seek the information as we would from any other Aethan.

The Umbaran stiffened as the overwhelming strength of an Aethan mind grasped seeking knowledge, tearing at thread of thought, leaving shredded wreckage in its wake. 

<There…I sense something…> Melron confirmed <Further down the skyscrapers to the West…>

<Extolled just commed in they’ve smelt something in that direction too, Lydan are you finished,>

<I understand!> He said excitedly having found the sequence of delving into Peaceful calming currents of the aether.

“Thank you for…”

The Umbaran was dead, blood drooling from the nose and eyes

“HA!” Lyaea burst out

“What happened?” Lydan asked genuinely shocked

“Brother these Outsiders don’t have an Aethenaea Cortex…they can’t cope with sharing knowledge like People do it breaks their fragile little brains,”

“Oh...” Lydan stood and followed her out never paying it a second thought as the other monks shocked at the passing of their mentor rushed to guide his shattered spirit to the Calm Waters.

<<<<>>>>

Xani

Someone was looking for her.

Or rather a lot of someone’s.

The Red Triangle gang didn’t just chase anyone, you had to do something real bad for holo-cams to be looking for you.  It was scary.

She didn’t know what she had done wrong, had she taken something, hurt someone…if she had it was only because she would’ve starved otherwise or been hurt by them even worse.

But there were other someone’s looking for her, she didn’t know how she knew…but she knew…it was like…like her parents were whispering to her in ears she didn’t know she had. 

Crawling through a long dried duct she touched the booklet in her breast pocket again.  It had to be connected to this somehow…were the Goddesses coming to find her – should she go out and try and meet them?

Or should she hide from the Red Triangle gangs?

It was very hard to decide. 

Pausing she tried to think of the best thing to do…no matter what she needed to eat something first, twice now she’d been thwarted.

Struggling down the duct she found the grate at the bottom already long since removed.  Sniffing the air her starving senses picked up the savoury flavors of meat nearby.

Hopefully once she had something to eat she could think more clearly.

<<<<>>>>

Selaena
The place was despicable and confirmed every despicable truth about outsiders.

A vast empty warehouse was turned into clandestine accommodation with cheap metal barriers between cots and a large fire in the center, and all about were the ‘Runts’.  Orphans, runaways, pickpockets, shysters, none above fifteen or sixteen.

<See how they abandon their own children to squalor and suffering> Selaena noted unable to be silent

<No Person would treat their precious children thus>

<Truth in that…> Taryn replied
<But I was a Runt once, so was Lya, Lydan, you didn’t choose to make em that way nor did my parents, I’d say most of these ones are the same, lost rather than tossed>

Selaena pursed her lips angrily at the rebuke...but had to swallow down the bitter truth of what Taryn had said.

<At least we try and find those of our children who are lost>

<How do you know there ain’t someone looking for each of these kids?>

<Loo there is someone who seems like they are in charge!> Adaea interrupted before the argument could break out, she disliked any tension between People.

Striding forth Adaea went up to a taller Runt with oddly red skin possibly a Zeltron hybrid, dressed in an oversize half set of Mando’a armour with ‘Neet’ written on a shash around the waist.

Trying to be cordial Adaea knelt slightly hands on her knees and use an aetheric illusion to make it appear her helmet was removed, albeit with a different face.

“Hello! We’re looking for a young girl who might look like this have you or your friends seen her?”

The Runt looked at the preferred piece of flimsy with pictures of all the Aethan women amalgamated to show key features common to all females.

 “pfft you already asked me!” complained ‘Neet’ “Hey, where’s your mark?”

“Wait already asked when?” Taryn interjected

“Nook came in here, different picture though,”

He pressed against her mind to elicit more information

“Who’s Nook?”

“Derrrrrr…with Vescid, everyone’s looking for that kid, didn’t have a colour pict though. Like I told him we ain’t seen her in months, she was weird, freaky wizard powers or something.”

“She was here!” Selaena near exploded, where Taryn had been delicate with his mental suggestions Selaena was forcefully and penetrating as her sniper rounds

“Tell me everything, Where would she go, why is this Vescid after her!”

Neet’s eyes began to glaze over, a thin trickle of blood from her nose under the enormous mental pressure of an Aethan mind.

“Take it easy she’s just a kid!” Taryn complained

“A Child of the People is in danger! This thing is an outsider it assists us then dies!”

“Frell and you thought I was the violent one….”

“You still sympathize with outsiders I knew it all along”

Neet collapsed unconscious as the two Aethans turned on each other, Adaea idly toeing the body as the other Runt’s hid.

“Hey, outsiders have dipped us all in the dren, I’m no exception, but not this one that can’t even tie their bootlaces,”

“I think we have what we need…we just find this Vescid…”Adaea again broke the disagreement tapping away at her datapad connected to local security feeds,

“Oh there he is!”

<<<<>>>>
Lydan

The Vongynx sniffed and yapped being rewarded with small pieces of dried meat as they stalked around the tiny ramshackle room, outside the other Extolled kept the locals from probing too much and the current occupants placated with credits.

“Have a look, a deep look,” Melron counselled the younger Aethans.

Taking his instruction they stared at the far wall behind the few pieces of furniture where a message was etched by a child’s hand into the metal, their minds sunk back in time to when it was created, a shivering hungry child who could wait for her mother no longer – and before that a broken hearted woman and her child wondering how they could survive without her husband.

“She lived here…but couldn’t wait any more…” Lyaea said sadly stroking the etching with its simple message

Went for Food Love Xani

“Xani…” They now had a name, and a face from the after images, although she would be a few years older at least.

“Surprising they had a child…” Melron wondered “…they must’ve escape from the slavers together, found somewhere relatively safe and prosperous enough to think they could raise a baby safely…”

“But something went wrong…” Lyaea deduced sadly kicking over a crate that served as a table,
“…and they ended up here”

“No lasting peace or home can be found for the People anywhere among Outsiders…” Melron agreed as Lyaea began gathering the aether to herself tuning her senses to the aura from the Obelisk and now sharpened with the girls name.

“Time to call her back home,”

<<<<>>>>

Xani
Xani….
She nearly dropped the small curved piece of metal that served as bowl for the few spiced giblets she had managed to swipe after crawling behind the stalls, sometimes when she really wanted to be small and thoughts small she became ‘small’ enough for people to not see her, at least in their peripheral vision.

Xani We’re here…where are you, what level and sector

The voice wasn’t coming from her ears but in her head.

It was trying to be warm, comforting…but after being chased about and attacked Xani could only find it threatening.


It’s alright we’re here to help, we heard you, we’ve come to take you home! it pleaded

Xani swallowed the last of he food and blocked her ears

“No, no go away, stop chasing me!”

We came after you saw the Arts, the Goddesses have guided us to you, Xani just tell us

The Arts…the booklet – All this trouble had started when she found it!

Grabbing it quickly she scrunched the thing up ready to hurl it away…

But she couldn’t, it was the only picture, well close to a picture, she had of her mother and the stories she told…

That’s right Xani we know the stories, tell us where you are and we will come and take you to the world you see there

Xani had heard that line before, or close enough to from traffickers offering to take her to sunny Alderaan or beautiful Ithor.

“No go AWAY!” She blocked the noise from her head imagining a big door shutting around her ears.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 27, 2020, 04:11:17 AM
Chapter 12 — Maternal Instinct — Part 5


Qarn
“Hold…” Hei raised a fist and they stopped dead, flippant though he could be, when he was serious you listened.

They had been following Qarn’s psychometric tracking from where the girl had last been seen to Level 320 – 300 was where Madame – and all the Bosses – influence ended and the feral’s and mutants ruled.

“Problem?”

“Strange…those men are not men…” the Nagai said thumbing round the corner.

Qarn peeked to see five men in unusually clean travelers cloaks being lead by a massive canine of some kind – the snarling head full of bladed teeth swung back and forth with a rapidity that was unnerving for a creature its size.

“They can’t be after the girl surely…” he said out loud as if it could make it so, knowing full well their timing was too much to be coincidence

“Any idea who they are?”

“Something that should not be here…” Hei replied

Qarn tapped his gauntlet while staring at the strange beast – back up would be needed.

<<<<>>>>

Selaena
<She closed me off!> Lyaea sighed across to her
<She didn’t trust me…>

<Understandable unfortunately, poor child probably hasn’t spoken telepathically for years…> Melron deduced

<And with this mean Vescid after her….>Adaea added as she pointed the next turn toward where security footage shows ‘Vescid’ a rather fierce looking dug and a dozen goons with Red triangle symbols hanging about the steps in front of a large once noble building, now defaced with neon flickering feminine silhouettes and bolted on air conditioners.

<Then we continue to look the hard way…> Selaena said as firm as her strides toward the guffawing group ahead.  The crowds wandering the street before her parted instinctively as she allowed her frustration, disgust and anger to seep out like a cloud about her, any being in it’s right mind would subconsciously try to avoid her, making the masses divert of their own accord.

She strode straight up the steps, two of the goons reached out to stop her.  She grabbed the first to reach out to her, twisting the arm rapidly around to pop the shoulder, the second barely having time to process the visual information before she swept kicked him into the jagged worn stairs.

“You Vescid?” She called as the others raised their weapons, the dug looking smug at the top

[I am he] it said in ugly Huttese

<Can’t believe I’m saying this but maybe we should try and keep this a bit calmer…> Taryn warned

Selaena ignored him, she would tolerate no delay in trying to reason or speak with these primitive creatures when a child was scared.

To the immediate shock of his men Vescid lifted from his hammock between two dirt encrusted columns, limbs splayed out and twisted back unnaturally as he hovered in the air.

A metaphysical drill with a dozen tips bored into the Dugs psyche, ripping with heaps of detritus flying off answers to questions she had – why were they searching for Xani, how long had they been looking for her, where was she last seen, or likely to go.

The resistance was pitiful and the information soon extracted.  They had been looking for three standard days, under the Orders of the Madame – the local Crime Lord, their best agents a Kiffar and Nagai were in hot pursuit some levels down – and the why….it was rumoured the Madame’s child had been killed by Xani, to allow her to escape would look extraordinarily weak.

Finished in the blink of an eye Selaena micro shredded the creature’s internal organs and arteries open then let the sack of flesh fall.

<Frag it…> Taryn sighed, before Selaena even needed to give the word he drew his Hades pistols and in a three second burst coinciding with Adaea’s dagger flying like an abyssal hawk through necks, killed the rest of Vescids crew in mere moments.

<Don’t step in any of the Dug’s blood, it stinks> was Lyaea’s only comment from afar,

<Lydan take the Extolled here and join up with Mother at the lower levels, these Gangers sound organised, I’ll stay here with Melron in case Xani comes back home>

A wash of worry tainted Lydan’s presence at being sent out on his own, but he found some calm in reflective thoughts of the plains of Aethas and knew his sisters instruction was ultimately for his benefit.

<Plus we might get to fight together!> Adaea said excitedly ever encouraging her introverted husband.

<Level 320 to 300 Western Sector…> Selaena repeated from the Dugs mind also sharing the details – or rather reputations of the gang’s two elite hunters

<We run>

<<<<>>>>

Orna S’esh

She ignored all but the most critical of the messages waiting for her. 

They did not inspire confidence.

More out of habit than any spite she closed and relaxed her fists under the curved Sil-wood desk, an import from Vulta, a scent of home she had many pieces of furniture fashioned in to try and keep a connection to her ancestral world. 

On the Mandalorian Road Vulta was a hub for arms manufacturing, one that had long since offloaded unwanted citizens on immigration programs rather than increase corporate taxes to pay for welfare.   She could’ve afforded to live there had she sold up the ‘business’, but it was a world she had no true connection to.

Qarn was requesting re-enforcements, they’d picked up some unusual characters stalking about level 320 and below.  An underling Vescid had been ‘mulched’ in front of his bordello, his men wiped out by assailants unknown for reasons unknown.

Orna could only assume in both cases it was Bosses from other sectors already making plays for her territory. 

“So impatient,” she sighed authorising Qarns request for the Heavies to assist.

<<<<>>>>


Xani

Everything was just becoming so scary and confusing she didn’t know what else to do but keep heading further down nearer level 300, there she might be able to find quiet enough spot until all these people stopped chasing her.

Might

She knew it wouldn’t stop, with the same sad certainty she had known first her father then her mother would never return.

Shuffling caught her attention, something strange at the edge of her hearing as she kept low against the ever thicker foundational walls of microbe laced duracrete in the humidity of the lower levels.

“ARRROOOOO”

A sounds she had never heard, primal and vicious resounded with a deep growling undertone

There was more chattering in a foreign tongue nearby as she scrambled forward looking for a way out.

“AVATAR We come to liberate you from the infidels!” A heavily accented voice yelled

Everything was getting scarier and scarier!

She rushed forward as she heard heavy feet bounding closer.

Ducking under a pipe warm and dripping with condensation she chanced a look backward – done the column, pipe and vent covered alley behind her was the largest creature she had ever seen, a long canine snout, glowing yellow eyes and sharp fangs that could devour a Yinchorri.

“ARRRRRRGWWOOO” it called as she locked eyes with it, a troubling feeling that it ‘recognized’ her in a way she could not articulate.

“AVATAR we mean to Extol you to your Righteous place!” Called the shadowed hander behind it.

Terrified she fled.

<<<<>>>>

Qarn

“What the Frell are they about?!” Jor’g asked as the heard the vicious growling screeches of the hunting beast.

“Some kind of whacked cult like those beggars up on 80?”

“Who cares,” Qarn said putting his gauntlet with in-built comm to his ear

“Hei continue flanking we’ll take the freaks and their monster,”

With their better knowledge of the locale Hei and a small group of scouts would move around and catch the target girl will Qarn and Jor’g’s Heavies dealt with these freaks…after that they needed to head up to Vescid’s old territory where there had been some kind of incident.

The group of five warriors up ahead spoke in a harsh tongue as they tried to navigate down the alley the girl had fled, at fist Qarn hoped they could take them all from behind, but whatever zeal they had for finding the girl was tempered by tactical wisdom, two of them stood guard at the alleys entrance as the other three shuffled in – while not as lithe as the child, they were surprisingly agile for their size.

Regardless once Hei got around they would hit them from all sides.

“GO!”

From round the corners of a dozen structural sinks The Heavy Team surged forward with eight thick Riot shields front to block any incoming blast fire – the two handed shields themselves featured an inbuilt dual blaster that they opened up with.

They would create a ring of the shields around the alley entrance - force them back into it then blast them down…or they would’ve had they fallen back.

Relishing the challenge the Extolled warriors bellowed and charged straight at the Heavy Gangers, as their thick seaweed based cloak soaked blaster fire with only grimy black burns and bizarre slithering weapons and insects flew from beneath them Qarn realized he had made a tremendous underestimation.

<<<<>>>>

Xani

The familiar shrill of bolster fire echoed behind her as she squeezed out of a gap between the ungainly bolted on ventilator boxes.

Pushing herself to be ‘small’ she took her first few sprinting steps before her feet left the ground and her hair stung red sensations of discomfort as she was pulled up by it.

A sneering ghost white face smiled at her.

“Hello lovely,” Its overly perfumed breath sneered

The face was hideously white beneath fluro green and pink hair.

She punched and kicked away at the face but it just laughed and dodged before dropping her form a moment then grasping her around the breast pinning her arms.

“Fierce little thing, no wonder Omil got vaped,”

Her fear built again, a pressure of fiery blue inside her about to explode outward as it had days before.

With svelte speedy fingers the Nagai drew a thin needle to pacify the target for delivery to Madame.

The first flickers of blue began to light Xani’s face as the point came down…and curled against her skin indolently.

Hei’s brow switched from high and giddy to creased in an instant.

“Get your pallid paw off her you ghost faced freak,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 27, 2020, 04:13:50 AM
Chapter 12 — Maternal Instinct — Part 6


Battle in the Underlevels

Frantic strength of a mother desperate to save her child tore the girl free from the Nagai’s arms.

Selaena rushed in from behind as Taryn flew at the Nagai from the side, Adaea coming in behind them both Bow in hand loosing an arrow at the Nagai’s scouts, the Oblivion arrow shattering through the oculus Scout helm with ease.

Against the counter pull of the girls frantic resistance Selaena flew her into her arms, wrapped herself around the frail child and balled up as the fight began around them.

The Nagai’s natural dexterity saved it from being decapitated by Taryn’s swift strike with his newly forged Blackstone Katana, it’s electromesh armour absorbed the Aetheric lightning Taryn had added into the attack.

Hei grinned at the prospect of a challenge spinning his Tehk'la blades, proficiency in which had gained him a high standing in Nagai society, until a series of unfortunate incidents lead to him winning one too many death-duels against members of the wrong Circles.

The Scouts fell ac to cover, using mag-jets to clambered up the steep sides of the endlessly rising buildings and struts all around to gain elevation for their attack, but their sensors on their oculus scanners had difficulty picking up the attackers.

Adaea had no such difficulty drawing in her mind the most elegant curved vectors between her arrows and their aetheric aura’s before loosing them at three times the speed of sound.

Xani continued to struggle against the heavy blackness all around her, instinctive aetheric flames eaten up by Selaena’s armour.

Needing to calm the child Selaena telekinetically unclasped her helmet and shifted the girl far enough to see her face but close enough to remain covered by her body.

Xani stared with wide eyed wonder at the face so similar to her mother’s…yet not…so similar to the Goddesses in the booklet…yet not…she had the cleanest skin Xani had ever seen, light near white hair, but not from age.

“It’s alright Xani, I’m here to look after you, protect you, take you away from this place,”

It was easier said than done as Taryn found himself in an annoyingly even fight against the Nagai assassin, their natural dexterity and reflexes a almost a match for Aethan abilities, and the electromesh armour far less bulky than his own Mark 1 Oblivion armor making up the difference.

Hei slashed and jabbed at the far more hulking opponent whose guard was strong, but still tentative, a novice in the Art of the Blade that Nagai practiced daily as meditation – a talented one Hei admitted – but his journey would end today.

Despite the chaos, confusion, and strangeness of it all, astoundingly to Selaena she felt in the little malnourished girl still a capacity for wonder, trust and love.  The hell of this backwater world had not overcome Xani’s genetic predisposition to a charming happiness, only presented its full expression.

“Are you taking me to the land of the goddesses, will you look after me?” Xani asked with her words and her mind as Selaena’s eyes budded with tears

“I will, always,” Selaena promised scooping the child up and pressing her tightly, the battle about her ignored as she focused all her efforts on covering herself and her ward with the strongest aetheric shields and suppressions she could. 

At the far end of the alley Qarn was beginning to gain an advantage – after losing half his men to the bizarre enemy weapons – strange insects had flown straight around his shield heavies and slammed them in the head with skull shattering force, staff weapons had spewed durasteel melting acid, and then there was the tracking beast itself that had ravaged two more.

His heavy gunners now poured Repeater blaster fire forcing the enemy into cover, the sheer number of shots hitting a few, to what effect he was unsure.

Jor’g and the Tactical’s, less heavily armored than the Shield troops or repeater units but more maneuverable moved up to take them as more fire struck the thick hide of the beast causing it to finally fall whimpering.

The victory was short lived as in quick succession three of his heavy gunners head rolled aside and a stomach churning cry came from behind.

Like a battering ram Lydan slammed through the rear of the gangers ranks, his Naginata, modelled off his Shepard’s staff but infused with an unusual four enchantment levels rather than the usual limit of Blackstone of three courtesy of Adaea’s savant like expertise, whirled with ultradense aetherically enhanced edges slicing through the petty armour like gormin butter.

His mother was scared and desperate to protect her child, which must be his new little sister Xani.  He took the lesson from the Umbaran clearing out the distractions of immediate place, the metal, the machines, the stench of outsiders in their unnatural world and envisaged himself simply driving off a band of Vorynx from his herds, batting them back into the trees with his staff, or a lone, 2.5 metre Vo-ursus giving them a swift telekinetic buff to the side or hurling a rock or log.

Unfortunately for Qarn and his men the reality was less Arcadian.  Impacts designed to knock the genetically enhanced Vorynx into trees, chastened but alive, turned into fatal splatterings against duracrete, swings of the Naginata instead of poking a Vo-ursus thick fur and hide penetrated heavy armour leaving organs ruptured and gushing.

Any attempt to flank or retaliate was soon denied by the Extolled Lydan had brought with him protecting his rear and flanks, exacting their own bloody toll on the band of talented street fighters and the odd gang-war veteran who were now faced with hardened trained warriors from another galaxy who knew neither fear nor pain.

Hei laughed at his opponent at the other side of the alley, a taunt that concealed his concern.  Hui’s skills might be sharper, but the Black armour he faced was nigh impossible to penetrate, and his opponents carefully aggressive technique left few openings even if it didn’t get through Hei’s dexterous dodges.

“Yeah it is funny you pale faced dren,” Taryn sneered between leaping and ducking simultaneously to avoid the Tehk’la blades

“All these goons to catch one little girl, frell me you’re a pathetic bunch,” Oblivion and Nagai Steel Sparked in another clash before they pushed off both preferring a more fluid style.

“Runt gangs on Socorro that would beat you vuug lubers up!”

“If only your blade work was sharp as your tonuge!” Hei replied with a backflip to gain distance before surging once more.

“You might prove a challenge,”

A slight slip the like of which would have the Old Man knock him over the head for and Hei drove one blade into the thin gap between helmet and upper chest plating, the bodyglove though made of a firm nano-weave giving way.

“Frell blade work…” Taryn grunted - he could accept his slowly developing mixed Morgukai-Vong-Aethan style losing out to a better opponent, but he wouldn’t lose the fight.

Twisting his hips he telekinetically spun the Hades Miniaturized Mega-MASER pistols on his hips and fired point blank into the lanky Nagai’s thighs – the elecrtomesh armour took on three quarters of the blaster energy- but the kinetic and thermal energy was another matter.

Hei buckled more shots were in rapids succession – everyone hitting the same point under Taryns precision telekinesis until the Nagai assassins upper thighs were messes of charred meat.

“If only your armour was tough as you guard hey?” Taryn pressed against the Nagai with his head as around him the last scouts fell to Adaea’s arrows,

Hei looked up groggy from the pain as Taryn gripped his throat and pushed into his agony weakened mind.

“Thanks Pale Face…you just might give me an edge over the Old Man,” Taryn smiled as he rent Hei’s skills along with his sanity.

Sweeping under the blow Qarn came up with a heavy punch of his Power-gauntlet into the chest of the Extolled, the energized weapon causing deep electrical burns on the Oglith Masquer, the fleshy pore gripping camouflage drooping off the Extolled dead, the Extolled himself little better as he reeled from internal burns.

He was on the losing side, Qarn knew that much, but he’d always known it would end this was.  Today was a good a day as any, so he might die with some unremembered honor to his clan he ran toward the ‘leader’ of the enemy, the titan in black with the polearm weapon that cleaved Jor’g in two after a spiteful thirty second clash.

Charging both his gauntlets he strode forward retching back to avoid another serpent weapon he struck the Extolled in the head as Lydan singled the leader of the pack out and went to meet him.

His Clan were warriors, his green Qukuuf facial tattoos added to over the years as he grew in prowess until…until in pride of his ability he made a rash decision and paid in exile for it.

Lydan titled his head slightly intrigued at this beings story as it echoed in his aura, but not so intrigued he wouldn’t slay him.

The Naginata spun overhead then slashed down, Qarn side stepped and aimed to smash his powered fists into Lydan’s  flank, but the Aethan was simply too fast, barely had Qarn’s shoulders shifted than the Naginata blade spun back upward forcing the Kiffar to block and jump back or be rent in two.

Lydan’s grip high Qarn rushed in and pummeled his enemies abdomen while he could, the sparking gauntlets energy rather than bubbling and leaching in was simply eaten by the Oblivion armour.  The kinetic impact of the powered fists that would topple a gammorrean lost to the far greater weight of the Aethan.

Rather than try to gain distance to use the Naginata Lydan simply dropped it and struck with his palm and elbows.

The Kiffar was well rounded, his power gauntlets gave him enough strength to block and strike back, but the outcome was inevitable.

A brief spar of sparking clashes saw both gauntlets shatter against Lydan’s armour, and with their loss was the only technological balancer between the two biologically distinct opponents.

Arms batted aside Qarn was lifted by his throat, kicking and elbowing the arm as best he could while struggling to breath.

For years Qarn had used his psychometric talents to give him and edge, to further his survival and career reading objects and on occasion people – now for the first time he would learn what it felt like to be read himself.

<<<<<>>>>

Misattribution

Orna heard nothing but the jabbering of fools as their failures infected every part of her operations.

Any other time she would’ve tightened her iron grip and soon brought order to the chaos.  This time there was no point, she had no son to pass the ‘firm’ onto, so why bother trying to retain it.

He best agents Hei and Qarn were dead, her Heavies wiped out by forces unknown.

Word was quickly spreading confirming rumors of her son’s death to the other bosses.  Vescid’s very public death again at the hands of unknown assailants had emboldened her rivals to start moving in.

She was seen as weak, vapid and falling before recovery.  It was all true apart from the first point.

It was increasingly evident from these attacks’ that her son’s death was not some random killing, albeit impressively staged to look like one, which of the bosses and ambitious lieutenants had arranged all this and organized outside help from these ‘Shadow Warriors’ she would likely never know.


She had strength enough for a final act of vengeful spite against those that had likely killed her son.

Over the years she had amassed vast troves of intelligence on her underlings and rivals to keep them all in check – evidence of who had murdered, stolen, blackmailed, extorted, undercut, undermined who – all this intelligence she would now release freely as she simultaneously called all the gangs, posses, hit squads, and hired guns she had under her to war.

In less than five minutes she had sent data packages to all the necessary recipients – the Blood Brothers would learn that the Yellow Vipers had been the ones who burnt down their Upper Level Casino, the Yularen Sisters would discover it was the Nemi-Pykes that had ambushed a shipments of spice four years earlier among dozens of other infractions and backstabs now all laid bare.

Carratos itself would be her son’s funeral pyre.

<<<<>>>>

Selaena

“Here you go Nibblet,” With a series of quick clips one of her new friends, or family, or both, handed her a large chest plate he had been wearing.

She nearly fell over trying to hold it up.

“Ehhh…need a little more meat on your bones before you can lift it hey…let’s try this…”

Taking back the chest plate Taryn’s fingers lit with electrical blue as he removed on of the three enchantments to add another to give the plating a permanent telekinetic levitation effect to reduce its weigh.

Xani’s eyes were wide with wonder even as she passively took in the knowledge with instinctual delving through her Aethenaea cortex

Selaena was still crouched protectively against the girl as Adaea and Lydan stalked through the dead, the Extolled after recovering their wounded taking position around them.

“Alright there you are, now you hold on tight to this y’hear?” Taryn added handing his own chest plate back to Xani, then removing his helmet to work on that.

Selaena was impressed by him for the first time.  She had not even had to ask before he removed his own armour to give to Xani, this was despite the very obvious fatigue he was feeling from draining the Nagai’s knowledge and the wound to the side of his neck.  The plate was obviously oversized for the undersized teen girl, but gripped to her

There was a long trip back to the ship, the skyscraper canyons at this point far too narrow to navigate with their ship, and Xani would have to be carried.

Inquisitive as ever Xani looked around at the Extolled with wonder even as she slurped down the third of the moist protein and –fluid ration bars they had given her.

“What are they, I’ve never seen a species like that….” She was not referring to their physical appearance as humans or near humans under the Masquers, but rather their absences of an aetheric presence – Selaena felt relived Xani was able to discern such things still, her aetheric instinct still strong.

“They are our servants, termed the Extolled, from another galaxy,” Selaena explained as Adaea and Lydan approached

“My you’re hungry!” Adaea beamed taking off her helmet and pulling another ration bar, they had only two each at this rate she would consume them all.

“Very…my name is Xanaea what is yours?”

“I’m Adaea, this is my husband Lydan…hmm as Selaena is going to look after you that would make me you sister!”

Xani’s face lit up
“I’ve never had a sister!”

“Well now you have lots, and brothers too,”

“Even get you a gobril…” Taryn noted finishing the re-enchantment of his helmet

“Here Nibblet…” He stuck the oversized helmet on Xani’s head, Selaena having to brace her from toppling over.

“Mmm…Hmmmseee”

“I think that was I can’t see?”

Xani’s head almost nodded in agreement

“Well that’s alright, not much on this planet you haven’t seen, will keep your noggin safe…”

As Taryn spoke Selaena paid very close attention to his aura.  There was a protectiveness there she had not yet seen, and also an empathic envy…he wished he had been rescued from his own impoverished and brutal life like Xani was being, and in that sense what was never done for him, he now intended to do for her.

<What did you learn> Selaena asked the adults on a subtle telepathic channel

<These men worked for a local crime lord  - Madame – a Vultan whose rapist son Xani fended off some days ago before he could harm her - thank the Goddesses Xani’s instinctual aetheric defenses are strong> Lydan explained from what he had read from the Kiffars mind.

<She wanted revenge and set her best on finding Xani…> Adaea added

<Then she too must die> Selaena stated
<A mother never stops hunting those that have harmed their children…>

<There is some kind of Riot up here….> Lyaea suddenly broke in from Xani’s old house
<Open gang warfare, dozens of factions pouring in, looting fighting…generally having a good time,>

To her words were added telepathic images of civilians slamming doors and deadbolts, knifings in alleys and streets crisscrossed with blaster bolts between overturned furniture and stalls that acted as makeshift cover.

Competing demands now had to be balanced.  Selaeana wanted Xanaea back on Aethas as fast as physically possible, the rioting made this dangerous - even accounting for their speed and stealth abilities they needed to ascend nearly 400 levels before they could get picked up, three or four hours at least escorting Xanaea. 

Then there was this Madame, no better opportunity would present itself to eliminate her with cover of the chaos, and with the memories torn from the Nagai and Kiffar it should not be difficult to find her.

<Lydan, you and Taryn take Xani and the injured Extolled along these levels and ascend where the fighting is thinnest, Melron return to the ships and take them to meet them, Lyaea, Adaea, the rest of the Extolled and I will find and eliminated this Madame>

She turned Xani who was managing to somehow sneak another ration bar under the helmet into her mouth.

“Xanaea, I have to head off for a moment with your sister’s to make sure it is safe for you to leave this planet, your brother Lydan will look after you,”

Lydan was used to carrying gormin calves while fending off Vorynx, Vosis and Voursus with only a shepherds staff and leather clothing, and to Selaena’s joy, had recovered and grown physically and aetherically stronger than her, there was no better choice to protect Xani.

“Leave the planet?” her voice was somewhat obscured by the comically overlarge helmet
“Are we going to the place in the booklet?” fishing in her tattered clothes she produced a brochure for the Arts of Aephrodaea.

“Exactly there,” Selaena smiled giving her a final hug.

“C’mon nerf herder, let’s get moving,” Taryn slapped Lydan on the back as Adaea kissed him goodbye.

Relapsing her helmet Selaena watched them head off into the shadowy but fortunately largely barren distance, reveling in the warmth of Xani’s light.

Spinning on her heel it turned to cold focus as she set forth to destroy all those that had threatened that poor child.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 27, 2020, 04:17:18 AM
Chapter 12 — Maternal Instinct — Part 7


Orna S’esh

Carratos had few views of any note, the forest of skyscrapers more densely packed than Coruscant, but hers was perhaps more aesthetically pleasing than most – level 612, just into the Upper levels where the government actual had effective control and left anything under 600 to the Bosses.

From here she could see the orderly parade of banal hover car traffic on a backwater core world whose original culture had been diluted by waves of migration to the point it was just ‘any city’ Republic.

It wasn’t Any city to her.  It had been a place where she and her love had toiled for a better life, had been both terrified and overjoyed when she was with child, had hoped to one day be able to see their grandchildren become part of these upper levels with, live ordinary peaceful lives free from the filth she had struggled and never quite succeeded in cralwing out of.

She had imagined her granddaughter as Carratos Senator to the republic, or her Grandson the next Chief Warden of the Carratos Elective.

All of those hopes, none of which were for herself, she willingly remained in the trenches to lift her children to the stars, had been dashed in an instant.

Dull thuds echoed somewhere below her.

She smiled thinly and brushed back the flesh strands on her head then smoothed out her finest Zsajhira bliz-silk dress, a deep red to contrast her Vultan olive green skin.

A slight tremor and the Transparisteel window shook behind her. 

Finally the other bosses were coming for her.

<<<<>>>>

 
Xani

It was like a hover car ride. 

She had only been in a hover car twice with her parents long ago, but could remember how bumping and strange it felt.

With the big helmet on her head and the armour panel clung tightly too her as she was carried by her very big brother she couldn’t see much with her eyes…but somehow she could see using her mind more sharply than ever.

She had always been able to know things, or feel things, but things seemed so much more precise around her two new brothers.

She liked them both already, but they were quite different, Lydan who carried her was gentle and quiet, even when he was stomping things to death or bashing holes in walls.  He was careful to make sure she didn’t move about too sharply even as he jumped and climbed with one arm.

Taryn was funny and noisy, more daring like a flimsy-comic character she might read about in scraps found in the warrens shared between the other orphans and runaways.

Both seemed very determined to get her off this planet and to the nice green world from her parents stories.

Glimpses through the visor or under the edge of the helmet of various things being broken, or beings flying about were matched by a sight in her own head, a kind of learning of what was happening and how

It was like the powers she had always had, but more controlled and focused, but her head soon began to hurt and she couldn’t feel it any more.

“Too much information hey Nibblet?” Taryn said somewhere nearby his pistols spinning on his fingers in flourishes firing 360 degrees around him.

“Know how that feels, you take in things whether you want to or not, but your noggin can only cram so much,”

They worked well together, Lydan acted as a solid center to the Extolled advance, unwavering and precise with rifle shots and Naginata sweeps, Taryn on the fringes kept to his pistols given his lack of armour, boring out eyes and necks with accuracy only genehanced reflexes could achieve.

She caught occasional glimpses of places she recognized as they moved rapidly up level by level, gradually the light grew brighter and brighter as the left the deepest canyons of metal and duracrete.

“C’mon nerf herder we’re almost there!” Blaze called as she felt buffeted by what she first thought were exhaust blast, but now realized were actual winds, she was closer to the sky than ever before.

There was screeching and sirens, then large booms. Lydan suddenly pressed her down and close to him, crouching over her as the world seemed to quake as if it would crumble into the void.

Strange metallic rhythms pounded out nearby followed instantly by more life’s blinking out and vehicle exploding as Melron brought two Karintha Class transports in dangerously deep into Carratos labyrinth of skyscrapers, unleashing MASER auto cannons on the chaotic free for all around the platform they would leave from.

“’bout time Old Man!” Taryn complained as he scanned the smoking bodies behind him, Lydan in a single bound leaping onto the ramp and rushing Xanaea inside.

“Lose your armour son?”Melron replied with a smile, well knowing it was wrapped round the girl, rifle snug against his shoulder scanning for any threats as he piloted both ships with his mind.

“Was cramping my style, let’s move,”

“Your mother?” Melron asked Lydan as he placed Xani gently down in the cockpit,
She breathed a sigh of relief out of the oversized helmet and looked about at the place shinier and brighter than anywhere she had ever been before.

“She and the women have an enemy to be rid of…” Lydan replied as Melron came in the ship already lifting under his telekinetic control.

“And we have little Xani to look after,”

She peered up as the ship rose, there past the large metal pillars was the azure midday sky, it brightness making her squint as the others bustled about. 

All of a sudden they were heading straight for the great wall of azure that was the sky, so sqickly she was afraid they would hit it and crash – but it slowly drifted away into black mixed with glinting lights, among which far away was her true home.

<<<<>>>>

Mother to Mother

They had glided through the growing chaos of internecine chain reactions, one gang scuffle set off another and another, chaining back down the levels, and drawing crowds of pickpockets and scavengers.

In Turn the Government that controlled the upper levels was having to deploy its police forces to keep the violence from bubbling up into the ‘civilized’ levels of Carratos, adding merely more bodies to Omil S’esh funerary offering. 

Their ascent had been relatively smooth, Adaea had sliced a public cargo turbo lift to their exclusive use, Lyaea and the rest of the Extolled leaping in at level 482.

She had noted then the Vong warriors panting and grinning, their seaweed cloaks spattered with blood.

“We got bored waiting so had some fun,” Lyaea grinned mischievously at her own savage entertainments.

They had to get out at 515 when the lift was blocked by a very deliberately parked Hover truck, around the station there was a battle waged between one group with green slithering symbols and another with yellow abstract dots for their gang. 

Out of the lift the Extolled moved as the center, the Aethans on the flanks to tear into the greens from behind – the Yellow’s besieging them thought they were  re-enforcements.

They were wrong.

The Extolled cried in zealous glee with every heretic they destroyed, their throats sore from exhalations to the Yun’o as beside them the Avatars of Yun’Shuno and Yun Ne=Shel – Lyaea and Adaea – obliterated the street fighters with arrows and flicks of lighting as they made their way back and forth between various towers, lifts and even a few stair wells covered in drooping bodies already picked over by runt scavengers till, already caked in blood, dust and carbon they came to one of the entrances to Madame’s head quarters on level 520.

Located in the center of a large plaza the Southern entrance was sandbagged and fortified by the Red Triangle gangs, a scattering of dead bodies on the promenade leading up to it.  The knowledge of the Nagai and Kiffar told her this was the place, gave her the layout and likely defences.

It proved accurate.

Once more The Extolled charged straight down the centre as the gangers in three rows prepared to fire in sequence, Adaea and Lyaea again on the flanks each fired off their six teleporting oblivion arrows that sliced through at least two heads or troso’s each before vanishing back to their hands to be fired again.

Selaean strode just behind the Extolled charge and lifted her hands to raise the sandbags and portable shields, illuminating the air beneath with aetheric lighting that struck the now coverless gangers painfully.

By the time the Extolled hit barely a fifth of the guard still held their weapons. 

The doors behind were rent open with telekinetic fury and level by level, section by section they began their ascent.  The resistance was strong at first, while the gangers and guards inside were few they were supplemented by automated weapons and a labyrinth of blast door traps.

Such defenses would’ve been effective had they been fighting a conventional enemy, they were only an annoyance to Aethans that could tear durasteel with their bare hands and rip doors from hinges with precision telekinesis, overload turrets with Aetheric lighting, and have their flanks and rear guarded by fanatical Yuuzhan Vong with their own array of bio-weapons that defied conventional defenses.

Wading through an ever decreasing resistance, marching on past attempts to blow up entire corners of the building to stop them, cutting down the more professional guards that tried to run or held bitterly for every second they could, Selaena came at last to the simple but elegant curved doors of Madame’s office.

Her amrour already chipped and carbon scored, helmet on her hip from taking a few too many direct shots that had fried the HUD she held up her hand for her daughters to wait outside.

The polished brass door was not locked and swept aside to reveal a spacious minimalisitcally furnished high class office, an above middle age Vultan female in red silks staring out the large oval window on the burning cityscape below as she had for the last six hours unmoved.

This was her, this was Madame, queen of the mid-tier underworld for the last decade, Orna S’esh who with her husband had risen from a refugee with little more than a hundred credits to one of the wealthiest most powerful figures on Carratos.  And above all this, the mother or Omil S’esh.

The Vultan mother turned to regard the Aethan mother.

Orna was surprised at what she saw, not a Blood Brothers Assassin, or one of Boos Yuga’s hit squads at all.

As their eyes locked there was a recognition, Orna saw the starling similarity to the face Qarn had compiled from his psycometirc readings as the killer of her son.

Orna offered a bitter smile.  The initial report had been true…her son had tried to rape a barely teenage girl who had managed somehow to fight him off and kill him in the process.  Her son was the wretch she had always known he was, and she was the failure as a mother to have not saved him from himself. And the alabaster skinned white haired, but strangely youthful woman before her was the mother of that teen girl.

Selaena felt the woman’s realization, that her child had fallen beyond her ability to save, but also the unbreakable resolve, that no matter how vile, he had still been her son, and without him, the only thing left was to watch the galaxy burn out with her rage at losing her only child.

Stepping forward slowly Selaena understood all too well, she had, and did feel the same, the Outsiders needed to be punished for harming her children – not just Lyaea and Lydan, but her daughter in law Adaea, Taryn, Milaea, Kiraea, Jenaea and of course Xanaea - all those younger than her.

And Selaena would never stop just as Orna never would.

Their dedication to protecting and avenging their Children made them the same and ensured they could never but be opposed to each other.

As the brief moment of mutual understanding settled Orna curved her fingers around the thermal detonator the small click of its activation the last sound she would hear.

Raw instinct hurled Orna through the transparisteel in a soundless cocoon of kinetite that dispelled as she began to fall, the detonators extreme heat incinerating her body in an instant leaving only trailing clouds of acrid smoke behind and dust that landed a hundred levels down upon the corpses of those who had died trying to protect her – if only for their own advancement.

Selaean turned indifferently. 

One Outsider that threatened her children was gone.  There were trillions more.

<<<<>>>>


Home
The long house was packed with all the flowers, food and gifts they could assemble on such short notice. 

However when one possessed reflexes four times a human, much could be done in a short time.

Jenaea had made new plates in her kiln, decorated with slip that fired black on earthy orange into floral patterns, Kassyndra and Milaea prepared vast amounts of cakes and stew, Sofa and Kiraea decorated with flowers and ribbons.  Jarys, Valens and Maeson had built an extensive playground from obirio wood and Obhesh fiber ropes in the nearby trees, featuring numerous tunnels, swings, planks and wobbly walkways between tree top outlooks for Xani, and future children, to play in.

While finding Jenaea and Taryn had been causes for celebration, there was something special about Xanaea, not quite a teenager, the whole trip back she had been in wide eyed gaping wonder at everything she saw, jubilant and excited despite all that had happened – she was an inspiration, an invigoration of youth and vitality even before she set foot on Aethas.

Selaena had never left her side since Carratos, adopting her as her own but content with the title Aunt to ensure Xani’s parents were still honored. 

Xanaea was certain they were dead, at some point Valens or Milaea would return to Carratos and use their flow walking expertise to try and find out exactly what had happened to them, though most likely, unarmed and untrained, they had simply been mugged and murdered, it would at least close the chapter fully.  More importantly if they could discover how Xanaea’s parents had survived and escaped slavery, where they had travelled from before Carratos, it might lead them to others.

Finally arriving in system Xanaea took to the welcoming aether here as quickly as she had her new older brothers and sisters, Adaea eager to teach her sewing, tailoring and nano-electrical engineering, Lydan explaining to her the properties of all the plants on the nature deck and eager to have her look after the Gormin calves, Lyaea a sister she could play silly and naughty games with finally free to be childish, and Taryn an ever humorous presence with tawdry in jokes they shared for a similar experience living meal to meal in a metal jungle of gangs and thieves.

Already stuffed with all the food Selaena could push into her she left the others waiting at Selaena’s decorate house as she simply ran happily through the grasses, marveling at the  trees and mountains from her parents stories that had come alive at last, drinking from river waters cleaner than the best filtration on Carratos could offer fresh from the snowy peaks.

Finally arriving at Selaena’s house she as feted upon by all the adults in turn, her youthful energy keeping her going as she was introduced, receiving a bow and arrow set from Valens and Sofa, a sack of sundried fruits from Maeson dusted in sugars, necklace totems with healing properties from Milaea and Kassyndra, a set of link orbs and books from Jarys and Kiraea.

The celebration while largely for Xanaea’s benefit also included moments where Jenaea and Taryn were presented with practical gifts, new outfits tailored to their bodies that had regained a healthy weight and sets of link orbs.

They ate and talked until early evening when Xani’ energy finally hit its limit. Settling her in her new bed of soft Vo-ursus fur, the adults began to depart.

“Come on son, much more to learn,” Melron patted Taryn’s back to pry him away from talking to Lyaea,

“Yeah alright, we’ll see you soon yeah?”

“We’ll see…” she rolled her eyes at her over protective mothers gaze, any hope having Xani to obsess over would lessen her focus on Lyaea soon dispelled, even now she moved to intercept the pair.

“You looked after Xani well,” ever terse in her words Selaena said eyeing Taryn
“Perhaps you might be worthy…when your training is finished,”

Normally quick with witty retorts Taryn showed only deference.

“Then I’d better get straight to it,”

<<<<>>>>


A Future
(https://i.ibb.co/K7k1WXr/Xan-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/K7k1WXr)
As she had a hundred times before she strode the familiar passages to the vault.

It felt different now as Xani followed her, no just in that it had taken nearly three hours to get this far, the young girl inquiring about anything and everything she saw as she had done incessantly for the last few weeks.

In the last two days Selaena had spoken more than she had in twenty years of being ran from her home world, her new daughter forcing her to communicate far more verbally as Xani was only slowly developing telepathic precision.

“It’s so cold in here!” Xani noted just as Jenaea had, the temperature was well below water freezing points, but was only noticeable to the recently recovered People who were not yet fully recovered in weight and thermoregulation.

The girl shuffled on her Vo-ursus coat, the thick fur retaining the gentle settling effect the bear like Technocracy designed hybrid possessed to cause its prey to slumber.

“This is very deep, and hidden, something very important must be here…” Xani thought out loud.

“Very important, the most valuable things we possess apart from ourselves…”

The doors hissed open with chilly vapors, Xani once more standing mouth wide in wonder.

“Wow….how did those babies get in there?”

Selaena chuckled at the odd and unexpected question – not why were they there but how! Xanaea’s idiosyncratic view point was an endless source of wonder to Selaena herself.

“They grew in there, created from the blood and bone of Guardians of old…” she guided her daughter to sit before the twenty pods,

“...would you like to hear their stories?”

Xanaea’s smile was an instant answer.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on August 31, 2020, 05:33:38 PM
The more we learn of the Aethans, the more of two minds I am: the Devastation was something truly horrific, demolishing their culture while threatening extinction, slavery, and much worse.  The fact that it became the impetus of a type of conquest helps to drive them into the realm of "orange and blue" morality, not "evil" in the traditional sense but--supplemented by the horrors that they've faced--have wrapped themselves in a xenophobia that is almost entirely absolute and a cultural-centric priority that places anyone not of the people on a level to be used...and summarily discarded without a second thought.  Consider both Lydan's and Selaena's terrible consumption of their victim's knowledge (and not just those that were enemies; that poor Umbarana...): for the Aethans, this is taken as a matter of course. 

But that's what makes this narrative so interesting, especially when one considers that in a galaxy-wide community, there are bound to be staggeringly disparate moralities throughout.  The fact that we see only a small sampling in Canon just underscores that I think that those in power are doing us fans a grave disservice.  After all, there are SO many more stories that exist "a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..."

I also have to admit that I am very much enjoying Taryn's/Blaze's characterization.  Sardonic, wickedly barbed wit...LSG's choice of James Marsters as Taryn/Blaze analogue is absolutely perfect  :)  Yet, now we see how he is also becoming more comfortable in Aethan society, no longer tormented by his genetic imperative but instead acting from genuine concern and protection (and deference) towards a female.  And while their are many matriarchal Earth cultures, we see just how much the Technocracy made it a part of each single Aethan.

I have to admit that the chapter's dichotomy--"maternal instinct"--is perfectly presented: both Selaena and Orna would do everything for their children...regardless of the particular character of the child in question.  Another fantastic example of the difference in morality: black, white, shades of gray, and the myriad of colors across the spectrum  :)

My own selfish inclination: I can't wait to read more about particular Aethans we've already seen  ;)

More now, LSG!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 03, 2020, 05:13:18 AM
Remnant Part 3 — Conversation
Hoth.
Kaan.
Chillum.
Bane.
Macais
Farfalla.

Names of Jedi and Sith who had fought in the last battle of the so called ‘New Sith Wars’.

Men born three hundred years after they had been placed in cryo freeze.

Men who had died four hundred years before they were awakened.

The Sith warlords of the deep core rated barely a footnote in the histories from this ‘Republic’ they had found in the libraries of the nobles of Byss…nothing was written on the Technocracy.

In this they were pleased. 

If the Technocracy remained unknown even in the deep core it could be because after whatever crisis had occurred, they had survived and hidden deeper from the Sith and since then.

The Technocracy was nothing if not resilient, Fifth was twice living proof of that.

He closed the musty tome and stood, again the furniture was not suited to his superhuman proportions.

The owner of this library lay with his Abyssian slaves dead on the floor.  After destroying the Barons Byss had erupted into internecine conflict and confusion, wild rumours about ‘Star Vampires’ abounding as the Technocracy soldiers sought information and resources using the planet scale confusion as cover.

They unfortunately did not possess the resources to completely purge this world…

Yet.

Fifth rose from had sitting cross legged on the floor, no chairs could suit his super human form even without armour…and still he towered over the table.

<I have what we need, at least as much as will be found on this backwater hovel.>

His sentence was unusually long peppered with a personal reflection, Ninth would forgive such as a stress relief measure.

<Star ship secured> Sixth replied from the Industrial zone where he Fourth and Seventh had been dispatched.

<Granary and food storage warehouse secured> the taciturn Third added.

Fifth felt the trickle of the post operation briefing directly into his mind – both assaults had been over quickly, in the first case the Byssians simply fled, in the second their guards were hopeless droids dispatched with aetheric lightning used in precision arcs within seconds.

<Load the food then extract Fifth, I will not be long> Ninth ordered as he sensed she was nearing the beginning of her own mission.

<When I return we depart for Prakith.>

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/w7CvCQN/Ninth-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/w7CvCQN)
“Here, here!” the filthy one eyed creature squeaked as if she could not already see it.

Set in the rain soaked jungles was a cavern leading to a heavy cortosis door etched with old Sith Glyphs warning trespassers of curses upon any who disrupted the slumber of the Sith Lord of Byss Gnar.

While the Sith were gone her mental anthropological and societal progression model had predicted with a 86 per cent likelihood that cults worshipping the former Lords persisted, a 78 per cent probability such cults would be populated by those who inhabited the lower tiers of the current social hierarchy who sought spiritual escape from physical pains and class discrimination.

Both predications were accurate.

Among the Abyssian slaves there was a large sect of worshippers of the Old Lords who erroneously believed they could summon them back from the dead to lead them to glory.

Their view of the Sith was distorted by their hopes of freedom, the Sith would’ve doubled the burden upon these slaves and chained the Byssians beside them.

Nonetheless it served Her purpose. 

Ninth found no difficulty in finding Abyssian cultists to serve her – her squad had slaughtered the Barons to a man, they regarded her as the Harbinger of the coming of the Old Lords that had been foretold. 

They licked her Aegis boots and fell to their faces before her in their hovel of a shrine, remnants of the old Sith kept in display cases, others took knives out cutting off their slave brands before her.

None of it mattered, she played along with their delusions long enough for them to turn over the location of the ‘Resting Places of the Old Lords’ where they ‘slumbered beneath awaiting the coming of the Shadow Harbinger’

“Here here!” it said again excitedly, its body displaying all the signs of emotional arousal

“the day has come the DAY has COME!”

Its glee was misplaced.

With a brief thought she hurled the creature into the rock face smashing its wiry body to a gluggy sack of skin holding breached organs and cracked bones.

She paid no heed to the warning on the door way, brushed aside the fetishes the cultist had left and stepped on the offering plates squelching rotted food and porcelain under her Aegis boot.

The entry was well sealed, it had been intended to close – never to open.

With an aether charged fist she punched a dent into it.
Then another
Then another.
Finally the lines became apparent and she drew her Blackstone Shatter sword.

Forged specifically for their enhanced height and strength its aetheric infusement channelled aetheric energy into existing shatter point lines, broadening them and expanding them further making the blade capable of delivering shattering blows to armour, flesh, and just as importantly, mind. 

It was as she was – a weapon to decimate every opponent possible in every way possible for the glory of the Technocracy and the furtherance of Aethan Supremacy.

Cold Black stone met humidity slick kortosis with a shrieking cry as the seal shattered along its invisible break lines into rubble.

Rank dead air hissed from the breach as she brushed the ruined seal aside to enter, bowing her head given the clearance was only 2.5 metres.

The ancient tomb descended via a steep stair case, spear pit traps were visibly decayed and triggered with creaking slowness that proved only their impotence.

Past the first seeming dead end she entered the main chamber. 

Along the sides were the coffins of Gnar’s Sword Brethren, sworn to protect him in life and death.  Around these were the bodies of their slaves, concubines and catamites – rotten with frayed leather straps around their wrists and ankles, long dried cords about their necks.

These too she ignored heading straight for the ornately carved Kortosis sarcophagus.  She paused before it assessing the traps…they were few and worn down by time.

Ninth glanced around the area…quickly realising the truth of the layout.  She walked behind the sarcophagus to the pile of rusted riches behind.  With a flick of her hand she blasted them off to reveal the heavy stone floor beneath, then with a stomp of her boot put in a dent to serve as a handle.

Gnars body was of course not in the sarcophagus, but hidden beneath the floor under the trinkets.

Musty acrid dust spewed out as she wrenched the top off to reveal the desiccated corpse below tattered embalming wrappings and tarnished golds about the withered frame.
(https://i.ibb.co/3mNKgRC/Ghost.png) (https://ibb.co/3mNKgRC)
“Who…who…dares disturb me…”  the ghostly voice came from behind her.

“An enemy, for what else have the Sith?”

The…enhancement Ninth had undergone had been more than just making her taller, stronger, faster…it had made her smarter, discerning enough to know when to kill, and when to, temporarily, parlay.

“Only enemies and slaves…” The Ghost of Gnar agreed

“A slave is but an enemy waiting for their chance,” Ninth added turning to see the red glowing form, not so different from the corpse itself, distinguished perhaps only by the faint red glow.

“True…why then do you wrench me from your slumber?”

“To the point, what happened to the Sith Lords,”

“I am dead centuries how would I know…” it obfuscated

“I know you watch ghost, waiting for any chance to claw out of your cursed state,” she kept her tone calm, gentle even…though it made her sick to do so.

“And why then would I tell you anything…you are my enemy,”

The empty sockets scanned her

“…too powerful to control, to intelligent to manipulate…”

“You will answer because you have had no better chance to do anything for centuries and likely will not for centuries more,” she said firmly.

“You died naturally, your demesne intact enough for you to be buried according to your wishes…that is unusual, only a wise and restrained Sith Lord can achieve such,” she noted approvingly

“And my fool son ruined it all…Gnar the second…” the ghost hissed blazing orange with anger

“All I achieved lost…all I built for him…only enemies and slaves…enemies and slaves,”

“Such is the way of the Sith,” she noted

And the way of the Technocracy…though perhaps test subject or labour unit is more accurate than slave she reflected

“Such is the way…such was the error…we thought the darkness the path to power…to glory…immortality…but if this is immortality…I would rather have died…” Gnar complained.

Ninth had no time for his regrets

“The Lords, did they ever unite, fight a common enemy…”

Something of recognition ticked in the ghost as his vacant gaze looked about, pits of darkness deep as a black hole took her in.  For a normal human, or even Aethan the gaze would be disconcerting, horrifying…Ninth had been rebuilt beyond such sensations, they were of no use to serving the Technocracy, 

“Ah…now I see what you are…the Shadows, the Vampires, the Stalkers on the edge of our so called empires…you’re saboteurs and thieves caused me much annoyance…I thought it a sign of your strength not weakness…”

A pang of insult swept through her, briefly but sharply

“Yes they came for you after I was gone…Lord Yn, Lord Htassh…others…few survived…you creatures…you are few but deadly, like Ryx Hounds in the high mountains…the Lords that survived were few, their fleets depleted…they fought for the spoils, paltry as they were…but they could never hold their power as they once did…by the time the Jedi came they were weak and wretched…”

All this confirmed what Fifth had found.

“There were none of my kind seen after that,”

Gnar shrugged
“I know the great motions not the small ones…you’re kind were never as great as they once were…”

Ninth nodded, there was nothing more to be learnt.

“What now creature?” Gnar asked “Will you leave me to rot, or finish me for once and all…ah why do I ask…”

“Why indeed…One thought to send you on your way,” Ninth offered even as aetheric flame ready to incinerate the husk of the body Gnar had left leapt up her arm

“The Sith way, that all others are enemies held true for my kind as well, but that was the difference…”

Gnar crooked his weary wrinkled head

“My Kind stand as one…you stand alone…that is why you will always fail, why what the Sith build will never last…”

Gnar’s hideous lipless teeth grinned with understanding and relief as Ninth destroyed him in totality.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 03, 2020, 05:23:45 AM
Chapter 13 — The Black Obelisk — Part 3

Shadows of the Seior

(https://i.ibb.co/mHc3zhx/MR-7.jpg) (https://ibb.co/mHc3zhx)

She clutched at her breast. 

It was as though she were torn in two.

Something she had never known was so close to her heart was pulling away, for the first time she felt true pain – not the red haze of awareness of damage but something visceral.

“This must be what it feels like for Outsiders”  she said to the churning images about her

Ahead of her was the most common of her nightmares, the Oblivion Army, over a dozen strong, many she knew, many she did not…Yet

At their head with two blinding purple blades was a woman Milaea both knew yet had never met.

On his knees before them an outsider, a strange moustache and top knot, hands bloody as he looked upon a dying twi’leki woman

“So we are come to this great stage of fools,”

The voice had solidity the rest of the dreaming vision lacked, it came from a tall firm man, handsome angular face and wavy brown hair – a warrior and statesman in his prime – He will need to be just to survive she thought for reasons she could not articulate.

“Who are they?” she asked the solid man “And who are you?”

“I could ask you the same things, but would you answer?”

“No,” she replied honestly, her mind realising the possibility this being may be real and they might be sharing less a dream than an unconscious glimpse of a future that involved them both.

They watched with growing dread as legions of lightsabre armed warrior broke into blood and flesh against the Oblivion blades…some, titanic warriors in armour managed to break through, to crack the seemingly impenetrable abyss and slice heavy cuts into superhuman flesh.

That seemed to impress the other observer, but it was a short lived victory.

Something deathly…silver? crashed like a wave upon them sweeping the dream vision away.

Far away.
On a world that danced the knife edge of civil war, Anson D’Aklay slipped from his meditations somewhat clumsily, the memory of the red haired…girl?...no woman despite her unnatural youth…slid from his mind like mercury despite his efforts to grasp it.

Stepping from the mediation vestibule he felt a renewed vindication he was following the right path of preventing the oblivion that loomed at the door of the Vhal’Dan Order.

<<<<>>>>

Activation

The bulk was almost overwhelming just being beside them – two fully programmed Blackstone Obelisks finally ready for installation and activation.

These two had been hidden by the Technocracy beneath Mount Alixaea only partially completed. 

With one Obelisk they had found Jenaea, Xanaea and Taryn in mere months – a startling success by any measure…yet they were painfully aware there might well be other signals the limited array had missed.

And so in between those rescues they had spent countless hours preparing the two additional Obelisks and mining the remaining six. 

It would still take years for the others to be ready, but with two more…

Milaea watched intently as Lydan, Valens, Jarys and Sofa carefully lowered the first new obelisk into place, Adaea and Lyaea ready to connect it to the Observatory - the backwash from her dream the night before still troubling her.

She had spoken to her Grandmother about it, it had been the first vision that had come to her naturally for quite a while.  Milaea and Kassyndra had been reading over and practicing more of the Aethan Volva’s arts to avoid or limit just such events…

“But…in the end what needs to be seen will be seen,” her grandmother had concluded.

The second Obelisk clicked in to the locks and the women began as the men set to work moving the third into place, Selaena with Xanaea explaining the process to her on the edge of the room, the young girls eyes as wide as her mind as information poured in instinctually.

It had taken two weeks to get the obelisks inside the array as they had to teleport the 60 metre monoliths with the aether – it had taken all of them to muster the power to do so with a week’s break in between.

Why the technocracy had designed the facility with only access ways two people wide was a mystery but they suspected it was to choke off the hordes the ancient Sith had used against them.

Another booming click and the third was in place.

Milaea’s hand idly stroked one of the recording orbs, its coldness hummed with background signals that jittered without meaning.

The Array room seemed ever tinier with three of nine in place, she stared into the depths of the middle obelisk – the first one currently shut down as the others were brought online.

The light eating emptiness seemed to twist before her eyes into a visage that was familiar and unknown at the same time.

“Ready?”

Adaea’s sweet high voice broke the introspection…more time had passed than Milaea thought.

“Yes of course,” <Selaena you better head off> Milaea replied

In the Array room Selaena guided a still pointing and chattering Xanaea out, the powers unleashed on activation were potentially dangerous to the girl’s young untrained mind.  Despite her disappointment Xani was perfectly compliant trusting Selaena completely when she said it might be dangerous.

Milaea could only smile at the trust the young girl showed despite experiences that left here with every reason to distrust the galaxy.  It proved Milaea’s hopes there were other People who were not completely poisoned against Outsiders…

Though by her own admission the term Outsiders itself retained an in and out group distinction that was troubling.

Xanaea safely behind the hull of the Aertemisaea in orbit, practised fingers activated the systems one by one, the system redesigned to cope with multiple obelisk antenna’s compared to the prior makeshift system used to get the first online.

Raw aetheric energies, blue and red mingling to purples spun in helixes between the vast blackstone pillar as the last of the People sealed the room behind them for now.

Energy crackled and spat at the tri-bond transparisteel to the control room, partially melting it where it hit, for a moment Adaea worried it would not hold. 

The sudden and deafening silence that followed allayed her concerns.

Milaea’s hand returned to the recording orb…even milliseconds after all three were now on line the details coming through were sharper by four times sharper.

“Hmmm…the banks are getting full up faster than I anticipated…” Adaea noted her finger weaving between eldritch orbs and glowing buttons

<Jarys put the back up’s on to take the extra data…we’ll have to increase the capacity sooner than anticipated.>

As Adaea busied herself Milaea focused on the streams coming in, a thread sharp and yearning…barely a sound at all…

[…….]

She drew in closer
[…here…]

“Focus on this signal,”

Milaea was acting purely on instinct overriding Adaea’s commands, the shorter woman instantly obeying hearing and feeling Milaea’s earnestness.

They pressed, filtered and tweaked the array to align all three Obelisks to focus on the signal…

[….am here….of the….]

Totally focused they upped the power to the array to its limits, it was still not quite enough….

“Men…” she commanded with the instinctive voice of a matriarch in the making
“Pour all your energy into the backup aetheric sinks, now.”

They obeyed immediately running down three levels to the battery and capacitor system, jostling to be the first to pour their power in.

“Sofa, Grandmother focus the greysleet filters, Lyaea, Jenaea, get to the observatory, cross reference it to the map as it comes in.

The aetheric group mind joined them all into a seamless single will as they worked to magnify and track the signal.

[….By the Three Godessess…]

“We’re getting close!” Lyaea called

“To frelling collapsing…” Taryn complained as he began to reach his limits, Lydan not far behind, the adults Valens, Melron and Jarys now carrying the bulk of the work.

[….here! Aresea of the People! PLEASE!]

“We have it!”

<<<<>>>>

A find so soon after the new obelisks was active initially made them fear it was a remnant signal, possibly weeks if not years old…

It was in fact almost live – that was no less troubling – there were no coincidences in the aether – for Kiraea it was a sign of the Goddesses approval and guidance, for Milaea, reflecting on her vision the night before, something less benevolent was bringing them together.

The triangulation of the signal to ‘real’ space seemed to confirm the latter.

In the warm room of the Aephordaea they had assembled after half a day of analysis and research there was only one logical location it could’ve emanated from.

“Galtea…” Valens at the head of the table spoke it like a curse.

“Home of the Vhal’Dan gray Jedi…they number in the thousands, even Kimar never dared antagonize them directly…if Aresaea is held there against her will…”

“A stealth approach is the only way…” Kiraea surmised they had all quickly taken in the full details the Jedi had on the Vhal’Dan, it was however three years old now.

“Even that may be difficult…” Valens went on

“Their Arbiter, Anson D’Aklay, and Kage Arkady Cyne have well earned reputations as strategists and warriors,”

“Soryu served with them years ago, they are certainly more…pragmatic than the Temple Jedi or Mak’tor even…” Sofa added
“…they seem to have retained the militancy the Jedi had in the New Sith Wars to a far greater degree than any other sect.”

A silence fell, there was no question they had to go, to find Aresaea, yet the risks could not be underestimated.

“We go in silent, fast and heavily armed…” Valens concluded. “Not too many of us either, two ships, Kiraea, Jarys and myself on planet, Adaea you and Lydan on the ships,”

“…with contingencies,” Kiraea grinned excited to play with the Chiss Thermo-nuclear bombs they had recently been gifted after the Ebruchii Campaign.

“Those Grey Frellicks better have treated her well…”

<<<<>>>>

Schisms

For the next Part of the Story please see Schisms The Vhal’Dan Civil War by theDutchman.

http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.45 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.45)

For Areasea’s full background read from the start to chapter 11,
For the most immediate continuation of RotA read Chapters 8 through 11.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on September 03, 2020, 04:51:19 PM
I have to admit that these two chapters were a real treat  :)

Well, our numbered-named Remnant friends from the Technocracy have learned a universal maxim: nothing remains static.  But armed with the knowledge of the Technocracy's fall, they still have their mission (not to mention genetic imperative)...and I don't think that it'll align with our current Aethan Guardians... I think that Prakith is in for one RUDE awakening...

I LOVE seeing the "other side" of Ari's call here!  I'm really looking forward to reading/seeing more of the Aethan's POV from "Schisms."  Speaking of which...

I want to give LSG a very special "Thank you" and for many reasons: his inclusion of my own story within his while being so generous in allowing me to weave his characters/culture within my own.  I can say without hesitation that LSG's CONSIDERABLE contributions to "Schisms" improved the original story that I'd storyboarded, producing a superior work  :)

I've said it before: the collaborations between myself and my fellow authors are phenomenal, creating a synergy that becomes more than the sum of its parts  :D

RotA is one of my favorite stories especially as a result of the incredible characterization  :)  I canNOT wait to see more, LSG!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on September 03, 2020, 07:22:04 PM
I think I am finally caught up.   :-)

I love the connection here, the peg into Schisms.  It really ties the timelines together and helps locate everything in time, as it were.   And as Dutchman said, seeing the other side of the contact is interesting. 

Loving it!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 11, 2020, 06:17:45 AM
Chapter 14 — Ari’s Quest — Homecoming — Part 1
Aresaea
This story takes place immediately after Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War chapter 11
http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg633433#msg633433 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg633433#msg633433)
My appreciation to Dutchman for making Aresaea the character she is and can be!
<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/PGhsZsY/Ari-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/PGhsZsY)
“…I ….cahhhnnn…”

“Oh Sorry!”

The vice like grip of Adaea released from around her causing Ari to drop to the floor less than elegantly, propped up by Kiraea behind her.

Having failed in her attempt to hug her to death Adaea contented herself with crushing her hand as she sniffed her.

“You need to put on…”

“…at least 15 kilo’s!” Kiraea finished “Get some real food into you…”

Even after the sadness of the events that caused her to leave Galtea and her adoptive parents behind, it was hard not be caught up in the other women’s enthusiasm for the reunion.

After leaving Saani they had rapidly docked in a Gray-blue bay containing three other dagger like ‘Karintha Class’ Assault Transports and ten ‘Vorynx’ Class fighters, all inside the ‘Aertemisaea Class’ Destroyer Aephrodaea.

“How haven’t the Vhal’Dan detected a Destroyer over Galtea!” Ari had wondered, she well knew Anson was sparing no expenses on security.

“You’ll have to ask the Vhal’Dan that,” Kiraea obfuscated.

The question was partially answered as she was lead to the bridge – the ship was not the size of a typical destroyer, more cruiser sized, engineered to be operated by only one Person if necessary. 

A second solution was shown when she had arrived to find Adaea adjusting a strange glass like circuit board with curved blue translucent lines –Ari had only seen one example in a book that referred to it as ‘Chiss’ – even Kazic knew virtually nothing about the Chiss apart from the stereotypes of their isolationist tendencies, military efficiency and advanced technology…Of course Adaea had dropped it as soon as Ari entered the sleek room to all but squeeze the life out her.

Ari pulled back from Adaea a little realising she was getting caught up too much in the older woman’s infectious excitement…her adoptive uncle Tsarvung, and siblings Arnis and Synera  her family had died just days before…

Ari breathed in despite not requiring oxygen for another hour, adopting a calming technique Saani had taught her to regain equilibrium.

“It’s alright…” Kiraea wrapped her arm around Ari’s neck
“You can still have fun now…you don’t have to grieve to a schedule my love…”

Ari nodded understanding and feeling the warmth of their welcome fill her up, refocusing on a less emotionally loaded topic while the feelings settled.

“So is that Chiss technology…”
“Hmmm our version of it…” Adaea replied “We made it better…they have too many sharp corners no appreciation for a woman’s curves….”

The sentence sounded bizarre…she had to open her mind more to understand the train of thought Adaea was on…it reminded Ari just how much she had adopted Saani and Kazic’s more linear way of thinking.

“I can show you how it works!” Adaea beamed excited to spend time with her.

“…After she’s eaten…” Kiraea insisted.

<<<>>>>

Sweetness exploded in her mouth, the trickle of juices down her throat more filling than anything she’d eaten in years…the flesh of Kyala fruit would make her feel full in a moment.

“Maeson’s got the orchard back up,” Kiraea explained “Melron has a few fields planted…and Lydan looks after the flourishing Gormin herds, not enough for meat for a few more years…but…”

Kiraea summoned over a bottle

“Enough to milk…”

Ari’s eyes lit up as the bottles cap flew off from her desire the scent of rich thick milk within filling her nose…

She didn’t even finish chewing before filling her mouth with milk too.  Ari had come to enjoy the food on Galtea…and Kazic certainly made sure she got more than enough to eat…but now with ‘real’ food she was reminded just how paltry it was…

As drops of juice and milk mingled on the table from her ravenous consumption she paused…paltry it was so easy to think of everything on Galtea as…lesser…even after a few hours alone with her People….

There was a pernicious and dismissive attitude that pervaded their thoughts regarding Outsiders…fear and spite…clearly they had not had the positive experiences Ari had.

Kiraea easily sensed her thoughts

“You were blessed to find Outsiders as caring as Saani and Kazic…but we can discuss that later…”

She slid closer along the floor toward her – the ‘lounge’ room of sorts of the ship was much like a long houses central room, a hearth with fitting statues of the Goddesses, shelves of clothes and books around the edge and the floor covered in Gormin wool rugs and cushions, though there was what looked like a Hapan style lounge in one section near the hearth with a small ornate table beside it.

“Oh…that’s Sofa’s…she doesn’t like sitting on the floor…still has sex on it though…” Kiraea explained

Ari suddenly wondered about some of the worn patches on the rugs….People were not quite as….modest….about their sex lives as people on Galtea.

“Who’s Sofa?”

“Oh that’s Valens wife, you’ll meet her when we get home…she used to be a Jedi but she’s better now…well not a better Jedi, she was a terrible Jedi it seems…it’s a long story but Milaea healed her and made her ‘half’ People, then she made her full People…”

“Who’s Milaea?” Ari perked up at the strange names, though Milaea was at least familiar…’aea’ was a common suffix and Mil sounded like a name from the mountain village.

“Jarys and Cilina’s daughter…”

“Oh Cilina is alive too!” Ari said excitedly, while she was much younger Ari had looked up to the twins Shilea and Cilina from the Mountain village.

“No love…I’m afraid not…Jarys will tell you that story as is fitting…”

Ari nodded sadly, as her widower Cilina’s story was Jarys to carry…but wait Shilea was Valens wife so…if he remarried…

“Oh…not her too…”

“There is much sorrow to be shared my love…and you have your own to reflect on…for now rest and eat up.”

<<<<>>>>

The story Kiraea and Jarys had to tell was a tragic one…Lost and broken after the Devastation…Valens did what he could to rebuild, using the slaver Lyr as a patsy, allying with the Chiss in exchange for eliminating aether warriors for them while also working as an assassin and enforcer for the Jedi Grand Master.

Of course Ari had heard of the fall of Kimar and the Night of Madness from Saani, her mother kept no secrets, even those from the Vhal’Dan Congress from her….but to now hear it was Kiraea and the others who enacted it to ‘rescue’ Milaea…

It was hard for Ari to comprehend they would do such things…but if she had learned one thing from Saani and Kazic it was to know there was much she did not know and not presume to judge after the fact from a different point of view. 

Still she hoped to ask Milaea her side of the story when they met.

Yet all was eclipsed by the terror of the Sith Lord Xithar and his abominable abduction and mutilation of their clone babies, how Yoda the Jedi Grand Master had turned on them despite their help in destroying the Mad would be Goddess Lucovis and how Milaea had found a solution to prevent having to destroy the Sith and Jedi leadership completely.

Had Saani, Kazic, Arkady and the Vhal’Dan not been so preoccupied with Anson’s politics the Vhal’Dan would’ve been a valuable ally against Lucovis and her twisted hordes, possibly even been able to mediate between the People and the Jedi and Mak’tor…

But the march of history was not so forgiving…it was far more likely given how he reacted to her just for living on Galtea peacefully with Saani that Anson would’ve agreed with Yoda’s assessment that the People were simply too dangerous to be allowed to live.

There were some bright moments…Ari was eager to meet the Extolled Yuuzhan Vong from outside the galaxy, the Sons of Kessel had been good friends but sadly were largely in hiding, and Jedi Master Soryu was a great friend of the People…but more than anyone Ari was keen to meet Milaea.

Considering the situations she had faced Ari considered Milaea had made genuine efforts to do what she could to avoid more destruction under exceptionally difficult circumstances.

And they had done well materially…the very ship she sat in evidence of that.  Her room was well furnished, with a large mirror plenty of handmade blankets and rugs…a perfect synthesis of technology and tradition. 

Still as Ari looked at herself in said mirror…she could see how changed she had been…how they all had been…

She glanced back to the small selection of Instructional Orbs Adaea had given her…devices that recorded thoughts and knowledge on how the ship worked…she sat for a brief few minutes as the main points flowed into her mind directly…even compared to the Vhal’Dan fleet these Aertemisaea Class vessels were potent - not invincible - but the Vhal’Dan would struggle to detect them before they unleashed horrific damage….and built using funds from bankers Valens mind controlled and designs Kiraea tore from the top Mon-Cala, Kuati and Corellian engineers while they holidayed on Spira….

“What would you make of it Saani?” she wondered out loud.

Her People were according to Saani’s cultural definitions thieves and murderers…armed with abilities and technology superior to even all she had seen among the Vhal’Dan, their one weakness was small numbers, they could be overwhelmed easily.

This was not the People she had been taken from as a child.

Lying back on her bed she fingered the necklace Saani had long ago given her, it was an ancient symbol a Taijitu, black and white melding in a whorl representing the duality of Saanis chosen spirituality.

It was encased in a sinuous rainbow line representing the innumerable cultures of the Galtean Union, their disparate beliefs regarding the aether, life, death…untied in a colourful richness that enhanced them all by contrast, not conflict, with the other, and made new colours as the pigments osmotically bled together as ideas and perspectives mingled.

She was not the same Ari that had been taken…

The Devastation had changed everything, brought the People into conflict and collaboration with other cultures, changing each side in ways even they could never fully predict.

She held the pendant tightly seeking a calm and clear perspective amidst the changes even as she spoke the truth of the situation and the universal nature of change itself.

On a small table beside the bed, in almost deliberate opposition sat her link orb, a colourless, indeed near lightless void, no balance of light and dark, not blending of varied colours, just a harsh singularity like the People themselves.

“Nothing can ever be the same…”

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/6ZFpnys/Hyper-Side.png) (https://ibb.co/H2qMFKg)
The trip back took nearly a week, they stopped briefly at Fresia where Lyr’Ca’Njo was establishing a new ‘Headquarters’ for their growing business interests.

Ari found Lyr a strange fellow, slimy and manipulative, twisted to Valens will and visibly recoiling any time Kiraea was near.

But it was when his wife Churi and Daughter Nxi had come it that Ari realised the strangeness was not to do with Lyr but how the People used him…he was somewhere between a slave, pet and valued friend.

Considering what he had done as a slaver, an instigator of the Devastation it was fitting he now worked to help for those he had hurt…yet under mental compulsion …he could justifiably be executed, but was given a family and wealth…..

Kazic would no doubt enjoy teasing out such a moral conundrum….

The hyperspace route to their home world was being made deliberately harder – the Extolled using gravity twisting creatures called ‘dovin basals’ to shift a few stars by a few hundred metres over the years- seemingly nothing in cosmological terms, but the highly reactive nature of the Deep Core meant it would leave most hyperspace routes fatally dangerous with radioactive clouds and nova pulses - only the People and Chiss would soon know how to reach it safely. 

By the time they exited at the edge of the system Ari had a solid grasp on the technology behind the Destroyer the Aephrodaea and by extension their smaller vessels.

“If you can think of any way to improve the next generation of ships let me know!” Adaea said excited to get a new perspective…Ari did have a few but was somewhat worried they were already planning a new generation.

“We must constantly improve…always be better to survive” Kiraea explained.

“And that’s why we have to take other people’s thoughts and memories…” the older woman slid close behind Ari….not quite intimidating but certainly making a firm point to allay Ari’s doubts

“We need insight and innovation from other species and companies to supplement our own and ensure we are always a few steps ahead…and we are very generous with our offers….”

“But you still take what you want in the end…” Ari finished…or thought she finished

We take what we Need as everyone does”

That still left Ari somewhat unconvinced as the ship slipped out into real space. 

Almost instantly she felt the warmth of the aether flood over her…a welcome…a homecoming that made her forget her doubts in the familiar comfort of the Peoples bond. 

As they approached further she could see dozens of supply stations and Chiss ships going about their business…but also a large number of automated vessels with a three pointed Star symbol – the ‘secular’ symbol of the people compared to the sacred Triquetra.

“Our own ships…we can’t rely on the Chiss forever…”

As they approached one of the outer most planets Aeda she felt something buried under the planet’s surface…she could feel the vast Blackstone structure nearby small prefab work stations.

“What…it’s huge!”

“It’s an Aetheric communications device…our Blackstone Obelisk Array” Kiraea explained as Valens and Jarys guided the Persephaea along sending the authentication codes to the Chiss patrols.

“It’s how we heard you on Galtea…its tuned to pick up aetheric telepathic signals with certain key words, ideas, emotions and rhythms…the ancient Technocracy built it for spying on the Sith, but we repurposed it to look for others.”

Like the communications orbs…there is so much to learn… Ari thought

“And improve upon further….the device is good, but not perfect…there is so much interference, only strong focused signals can get through…but it’s a start…maybe you can see if you can improve it.”

“I barely know how it works…”

“You’ll learn quickly my love….”

What else will I learn though… she wondered.

Saani had taught her how learning a new language or technology could change the way one thought about the galaxy especially if one became very immersed in it…how would learning all these new technologies and re-immersing herself in the Peoples new culture change her?

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 11, 2020, 06:20:12 AM
Chapter 14 — Ari’s Quest — Homecoming — Part 2
Aresaea
Galtea was beautiful, she had been amazed when Kazic had brought her there…the buildings, lights, mountains…her face glued to the view port as they flew in. 

With Saani and Kazic she had family there, but the aether of Galtea was comparatively cool and distant.

As soon as the ship breached Aethas the atmosphere a honey warm flow surrounded her with a familiarity and comfort she had all but forgotten now soaked through her.

The Hangar was beneath a natural lip of rock on the side of one of the peaks that lined their Valley, but on the side that used to face the ‘Dead Lands’.

Formerly blasted ash wasted they were now covered in fields of nitrogen fixing yellow grasses, fungi, even some Yuuzhan Vong hybrid flora – the first step in a staged process of eco-system rehabilitation, first mining machines had churned and purified the solid, removing contaminates, now the flora and microorganisms would filtrate the remainder and enrich it in preparation for future plantings.

All knowledge of the terraforming and eco system restoration flowed around the ship in free exchange of thoughts and feelings that was almost overwhelming in its volume after so long away from an Aethan group mind. 

The Hangar was clean, bright white lights cool grey and blue columns typical of the Chiss design and materials they had adopted.

“Wow its big…” there was another Destroyer docked, the walls lined with equipment and fighters.

“And new…”

Kiraea nodded beside her, “We only finished building it a few years ago…254 hours ahead of schedule.”  As the Aephrodaea descended Ari glanced at the ships 360 degree visual scan to see a small group of people assembling in ‘real’ clothes Gormin leather and wool outfits with their family ribbons.

“You should get changed…you can borrow one of my outfits!” Kiraea said excitedly.

It was comfortable, familiar and gentle Gormin wool underclothes, insulating layers of the breathable belly leather, and hard leather sections on the outer and boots. 

She stepped out as the ramp hissed open, steam pouring off as the gas exchange started, small bulbous droids flitting past to perform post flight checks and re-fill consumables of Plutonium, Helium 3 and the like with Chiss precision and efficiency.

Awaiting her was a cluster of people, faces she knew, some she didn’t…Kiraea held her hand as she felt herself tear up to see so many People.

She didn’t know what to do, who to greet first…she needn’t decide Lyaea suddenly rushed up to embrace her.

Unwilling to let her go they kept their hands on her back as she greeted Selaena and Kassyndra with hugs and kisses, with them was the far younger Xanaea who was full to bursting with questions for her that Selaena gently insisted there would be time for later once Ari had rested.

Old Melron whom Ari recalled fondly, the wandering Guardian had visited her village as a child and always told great stories looked much younger than she remembered and stood beside a jaded looking man with a number of cuts and bruises on his face,

“Taryn, we recently found him as well…” Melron explained

Taryn offered a low bow, blood still dripping from his nose, he looked as if he had just climbed the mountain to get here.

“Bloody well did,” he said in response to her thought,
“all the while the old man shot arrows at me got some good hits too,”

“Are you in training,” Ari asked inquisitively not sure what to make of his…rebellious presence in the aether

“Yeah, getting my Guardian on and all that jazz before heading off to the Chiss Academy,”

Ari had heard they had completed a course as part of their alliance

Taryn thumbed toward a man over his shoulder

“Going with the nerf herder there, if you’re quick you might get to join us,”

“Don’t mind Taryn,” Melron noted “He was, for a long time a pirate out of Socorro…we forgive his rough manners, come on son still much to do”

The ‘nerf herder’, Lydan, approached Adaea draped around, Ari smiled at their obvious love and at the Shepherd staff he carried with such pride as he offered her a small leather purse he had made.

Farmer Maeson greeted her with Kyala fruits in a basket woven by Jenaea who had also only been recently rescued and was still recovering from her ordeal, Ari appreciated taking the time to greet her.

Finally she turned to the two people she didn’t instantly recognise.

Both as tall as her, one had Golden Red hair and intense green eyes, the other night black hair and sky blue eyes…black hair wasn’t common amongst People, even Jarys who had the darkest hair was more deep brown than black. 

Kiraea led her up to them,

“This is Sofa,” she gestured to the dark haired one who looked
“as I said she used to be a Jedi but she’s better now,”

“And that’s Kiraea, she used to be an annoying bitch, she’s Supreme Bitch now” Sofa replied

“I’ll get you for that!” Kiraea smiled

“You better – welcome home Aresaea…” the tension proving to be some kind of running joke Ari willingly hugged her,

“And this is Milaea…Jarys and Cilina’s daughter,” Kiraea guided her to the Red haired woman.

She was both older and younger than Aresaea…younger in years but older in experience…her development accelerated by the aether beyond ordinary People somehow. 

They sized each other up for a brief moment, a sense of understanding flowed between them….

“Welcome home Areasa,” Milaea leaned in

“Call me Ari…” she noted sniffing her neck to learn her scent.

“Call me Mili,” she replied with a laugh, her embrace lingering a little longer than normal, not that Ari minded…being near her made Ari feel very…warm…

She could feel a unique commonality with Milaea the others, excepting perhaps Sofa but for different reasons…didn’t share…they didn’t have an underlying utter contempt for Outsiders. 

“Leave,” Kiraea called out to the males who swiftly departed, there were issues to discuss they were not permitted to hear.

“You’re overdue to learn the Rites…” Kiraea held her shoulders,

“…but without your mother, aunt or direct older sister…you’ll have to choose someone to teach you,”

“Can I learn too?” Xanaea asked excitedly deeply inquisitive about the uncharacteristically solemn tone Kiraea had just shown,

“When you’re a bit older my love,” Kiraea smiled patting the girls ever longer hair.

Ari looked around…she didn’t know any of them all that well…it was difficult and they could feel it…

She glanced about and had to bite back her lip not to say Milaea…instead she went with the safe option…

“Kiraea if you would…”

“Of course love,” she beamed pulling her close

“There’s much for us both to learn,”

<<<<>>>>

Sofa

(https://i.ibb.co/wY3kh6b/S-43.jpg) (https://ibb.co/wY3kh6b)

 “So….”

“So what?” he replied idly stroking her side…

“You haven’t talked about what happened on Galtea…but I can feel its bothering you…” Sofa pressed

“It’s not important…” Valens dismissed determined to spend this time with his wife and not his thoughts.

“If it’s bothering you it is important…if you get anxious I get anxious…” she scooted back toward him,

“The situation there was…complex…Aresaea considers Saani and Kazic family…and yet their Arbiter Anson…nearly forced our hand…”

“hmmm…” Sofa, like Milaea was not supportive of their more extreme ‘contingency’ measures of planting nuclear weapons but ultimately they were outvoted.

“And what do you think of Saani and Kazic?” that seemed more to the point of his disquiet

“Saani…she is a good mother to Aresaea, Kazic is a decent father, he reminds me of Soryu in some ways…”

“That’s good…”

“Only in some ways…his charity and compassion…but Kazic is more…pragmatic…though he holds to many of the same ideals, he is willing to use force to secure them…the situation growing there…I foresaw more than a little ruination…this Anson seems to be actively peering into the same future and making it self-fulfilling by doing so…”

“Third level cognition limitations…” she sighed

“Second in some cases…Anson seems wilfully ignorant to the extent to which by looking into the future he is changing it….I worry what that might do to Aresaea…and what a man like Kazic might ask of her…”

Sofa sat up loose long black hair wafting over her ivory skin.
“Ask what of her?”

“Help…support…soldiers…” Valens leaned forward to place his head on her thighs, staring up at her face from below

“Like a civil war?”

“Kiraea estimates 84.2% likelihood…Jarys and I put it around 76%...but it’s preconditioned on another instigating event…given the tinder box we left behind…”

“And Ari would want to go back to help Saani…and we would have to go with her to protect her…but in the end…” Sofa sighed out stoking his hair as he held her other hand

“…it will be Ari who loses the most…she’ll see a different side to both Kazic, Saani and Us that she won’t like…”

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

(https://i.ibb.co/nDbz6XZ/Ari-10.jpg) (https://ibb.co/nDbz6XZ) (https://i.ibb.co/4sQRKfB/M-62.jpg) (https://ibb.co/4sQRKfB)

She had six levels of conscious thought.

Five were occupied by memory orbs, each taken from Engineering experts, Chiss, Mon Calamari, Kuati, Corellian and Mandalorian…and Verpine, Sullustan would have to wait, her sixth integrated it all, finding connections, differences, synergies - how Mandalorian capacitors improve Chiss battery yields via modifying Corellian voltage control…thoughts bubbled into a memory orb for later review

Ari was only disappointed she had only six levels of thought to work with…though further genetic enhancement utilising what they learned from the Extolled especially…one day she was confident that would be increased

What technological and aetheric wonders they could create if they could integrate dozens of other cultures knowledge at once!

“Impressive isn’t it.”

Ari nearly jumped out of her seat in surprise.

“Sorry!” Milaea smoothly apologised

“No its fine…but yes it is that is…impressive that is…” she couldn’t quite get why she was fumbling her sentences, there was something intrinsically intimidating about Milaea…not threatening…and yet….

With a red leather coat over black shirt and trousers, Milaea’s wardrobe suited her very well, she wore loose necklaces, one a wooden Jedi symbol, another a traditional Bloodstone Triquetra. 

Milaea too noted how the simple dark singlet and leather trousers Ari, her voluminous red brown hair and aqua more rounded eyes added colour to the alabaster skin, she glanced at Ari’s Taijitu and rainbow necklace, it was not enchanted as her own, but there was still meaning ad fond memories embedded there she would ask about when she knew her better.

Physically the two women were both of the same height and build to most observers, but People could tell the slight differences - Ari was a little shorter with wider hips and thicker legs from her time on Yavin running over uneven ground – Milaea had a larger bust and more muscular arms from more years of lightsabre training.

“We never needed things like his before…” Ari went on fingering one of the orbs, “Everyone could learn everything they needed to know just by…being with each other…”

“A lot was lost after the Collapse…” Milaea added, “..even more after the Devastation…”

Milaea’s hair tended to red-gold while Ari’s tended to red-brown, said golden locks swept with an energy seemingly of their own as she wandered round the desk to sit just beside her.

“Didn’t even know what the Technocracy was…it was all forgotten…” Ari agreed

“hmm…Ada says you’re looking into the Obelisk operations,”

“Its…difficult…but important, I have a few ideas from what I learned on Yavin and Galtea of how to refine the filtering system….the current ones you made are good…it’s just” she looked down recalling her experience, hammering out a message and getting no response for hours…the pain and disappointment…Saani at least had been there to comfort her – others would likely be less fortunate.

“It would be horrible…sending a signal and no one hearing it…”

Milaea reach out a hand to take hers in a supportive gesture, it was warm, strong yet soft.

“…anything to prevent that is welcome,” Mili smiled…then her face turned serious

“You seem to be keeping yourself very busy before heading off to train…” Milaea noted

Ari shifted uncomfortably

“There is much to learn,”

“So you’ve said, but I think you’re filling your mind with that to avoid thinking about something else…” her words were cutting but the delivery was gentle

“I know what happened just before you left…Anson trying to take you, the accident with Tsarvung and his children, were family to you as well as Saani and Kazic, their loss must be hard,”

Ari bit her lower lip… she had thrown off the Sentinel with the thermal detonator into Tsarvung’s apartment to protect herself - everyone told her it was not her fault…but she couldn’t help thinking if she’d joined the Vhal’Dan Anson would never have been so paranoid about her – though in all honesty she knew no matter what oaths she swore she would’ve been seen as a spy.

Milaea could feel the pool of grief lurking under Ari’s thoughts, and her own instinctual need to try and relieve her of the pain.

“A long time ago…in events if not years…I was in a similar place, I hurt a lot of people I valued, considered friends…Mak’Tor who I believed…falsely…were dangerous,”

Ari looked into her seeing sadness in Milaea’s eyes…but no guilt as Ari felt.

“What I did was based on deliberately false information others gave me, placing me as a pawn.  The guilt and shame not mine but those who had misinformed and pressured me to the point I didn’t know what was true or right.”

Tendrils of memory flow freely in the aether, an impossible situation with impossible demands, a girl too young forced to make adult choices…the chaos of self…and finally resolution - understanding that she could only control herself, and pledge to avoid such a situation ever again.

The situations were different but parallels enough for the analogy to hold.

“I wanted to stay on Galtea and help most of all…” Ari finally said after a long pause drawing in a calming breath

“But I understand that would’ve made things worse,”

“Sometimes the best…and hardest…thing to do is walk away,” Milaea agreed,

A slight pause and Milaea changed to a more upbeat tone

“So you’re off to the caverns with Kiraea then training with Jarys…” Milaea noted, still holding her hand

Ari nodded quite liking the feel of Milaea’s hand lingering with hers.

“It will be different…I learnt a lot from Saani…hopefully I’ll do well…so you were trained by the Jedi?”

Milaea nodded

“Yes by my father Soryu mostly, Sofa as well, but she is more like an older sister…I imagine it was more like what you learned with the Vhal’Dan than the Guardian training,”

“It will be interesting to see how it’s different how to integrate all that knowledge to make something even better…” suddenly the use of the word father clicked for her

“Soryu…yes father once told me about him when he told the tale of Bpfaashi uprisings, Kazic only met him briefly, he said he’d never met a human - in whom the Force flowed so brightly, nor one who seemed more at peace with his own beliefs…”

Milaea smiled at the memory

“It’s true, Soryu is kind, fun, generous, and always did what was right,”

“I’d like to have met him,”

At this Milaea looked slightly saddened

“Yes…perhaps one day…but…not now…” Milaea stood parting their hands

“You’d better rest while you can, Kiraea and Jarys are good teachers…but Guardian training doesn’t make any time for rest…”

Ari nodded, Saani’s training had been difficult for certain at times, but was always manageable as her mother underestimated Aethan endurance. 

Guardians would not make any underestimation.

As Milaea stepped to the door Ari called after her

“Milaea, more one question,”

Milaea paused curious

“On Ord Mirit…you spared the Jedi leaders…you could’ve wiped them all out, or stood back and let Valens and the others destroy them…why did you save them?”

Milaea quickly sensed Ari was in a sense testing just how different from the others she was in her view on Outsiders, the other woman’s thoughts unusually loud.

“It was the right thing to do,” Milaea said simply

Ari made no obvious response for a moment, Milaea for a brief second wondering if she would disagree.

Ari smiled

“I think so too…I look forward to talking again when my training is finished...”

“Me too,” Milaea finished with an equally warm smile.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on September 11, 2020, 05:17:30 PM
I have an admission to make: without LSG's input, Aresaea would NOT have become one of my favorite characters!  Again: our collaborations are such a pleasure and a privilege to take part in  :)

This is especially rewarding as now we get to see Ari's journey after leaving Galtea, full of hope, wonder, some trepidation which is overshadowed by the heady experiences amongst her People.  Interesting how one can find love & succor from the most incredible of places.

Unfortunately, we know that Valens', Jarys', and Kiraea's probability extrapolations were spot-on: civil war was not just likely but--given those responsible--rather inevitable.  But what we don't learn from "Schisms" is how this affects Ari, only the after-effects; THIS is what I'm SO looking forward to reading here.  Already we see that Ari notices a notable difference between what was and what is.  With so much lost, one wonders what she'll do as a result and how she'll react.

As for Ari's Guardian training, I know that she'll be busy at work with that; I wonder how she'll take to the other Aethan Rights as well...

Thanks so much for this, LSG^^


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on September 11, 2020, 05:20:10 PM
Special note: it was LSG that established Ari's celebrity analogue; in this case, Summer Glau.  As soon as he'd done that, I felt that I knew Ari MUCH better as a character  :)

Bah, I thought I'd hit "Modify" and not "Reply."  Sorry for the double post  :P


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 16, 2020, 11:48:38 PM
Chapter 15 — Ari’s Quest — Unlearn what you have learned — Part 1

The Arts

(https://i.ibb.co/5WV9gNX/Ari-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/5WV9gNX)(https://i.ibb.co/0DjYv7q/Kiraea-R-6.jpg) (https://ibb.co/0DjYv7q)

“Blood is key to life in People, it hold power, potency even outside the body, it’s flow and richness makes it they key to spells,” Kiraea explained as drops from her pricked thumb hit the whistescar tablet, beaming luminous white of the ultradense mineral at odds with the otherwise blood red cavern making the droplets even more stark.

They sat naked across from each other in the sacred cavern as was fitting, purple lit as blue aetheric flames melded with the light reflection off the bloodstone walls.

Without gesture or word the blood rose up and twisted into a flower like shape, blooming into and out of itself in a cycle.

“It holds your aetheric essence, continues to channel your power, acts as a catalyst,”

A bolt of energy blue and bright sparked through it.

This was the sixth day of her lessons. 

The teaching of the Rites was, in its full cycle, 27 days long, three by three by three.

The first nine days dedicated to Rites under the purview of Aephordaea, relating to fertility and healing, controlling her pheromones and hormones to better ‘control her mate’, as well as very extensive exercises in ensuring she knew exactly how to make the most…enjoyable use of her reproductive system.

This flowed now into what might be termed ‘Blood magick’.

“But it is still your power to begin with, there is always a price to using it…so…use someone else’s blood or life force instead if you can,”

Ari’s brow showed concern

“Like a life or energy drain attack?”

Kiraea sneered
“Such outsider terminology, nature is full of life for us to use as we please…here…”

She summoned over a large amphorae, Ari could already smell it was full of a rich blood

“Gormin blood, from old Nomo who passed, a bull in the herd…the power of the Gormin still lingers there for you to drawn on…like so,”

Kiraea dipped her hand wetting it brown and red then used the latent aetheric power to within to create a simple growing orb of energy.

Ari swallowed, had Saani or Kazic seen this they would consider it…troubling at best…out right Dark side or necromancy at worst.

“You need to leave the outsider labels behind Ari,” Kiraea soothed,

“They have their ways, we have ours, and I doubt Saani would wish you to refrain from learning your culture,”

“True…I want to learn it’s just….taking another’s life force for our own purpose…or in this case from the dead…”

“Consider it this way Ari” Kiraea said supportively “Nomo was a good gormin, he lived to a full age because the People, apart from the intermission of the Devastation, kept him safe and cared for, then when his time came we use all of his body as is fitting, not wasting any of it, all the Gormin understand this is part of our symbiosis,”

“I understand that…” Ari said “Where it’s given willingly just seems different to the next logical step…taking from your enemies to power yourself…Kazic was always wary of such things, not only because he was an Anzat, but that you could draw in a ‘taint’ from another’s blood or life force into yourself.”

“A reasonable concern,” Kiraea conceded, then a wiry smile crossed her face
“For those without knowledge…”

She dipped her hand into the amphorae, blood spiralled out in helix patterns into the air each a different shade, the division based on the consentient components of the blood.

“The aether is many layered, even in blood, I will teach you to extract the most pure strains, life that is just life, not cluttered by emotion or cognitive baggage….”

The technique was tricky, but soon Ari learned, even finding in her experiences with Kazic a slight advantage. 

As an Anzat Kazic had a tendency, however subconsciously to probe slightly deeper in instinctual search of the ‘soup’ that Anzat craved, Ari found she could add this discernment to Kiraea’s methods to refine the separation of aetheric strands. 

The lessons flowed seamlessly into each other - ultimately there were no strict distinctions the Goddesses were a united force, the universe one, division was not in the ultimate nature of things 

She learned how to heal at a deeper level than before, how to adjust Aethan genetics and homoeostatic systems, powerful healing spells and incantations that fused shatter-point healing the Vhal’dan occasionally practiced with Blood Magic they would never dream of.

This flowed into the next sequence of Rites more closely associated with Aertemisaea…using those same skills in a more aggressive way to hunt by tracking animals…or sentients…blood, disrupting their bodies with what the Vhal’dan would term Malacia attacks but to the People were ‘curses’…some very potent one.

“This one…” Kiraea began
“I’ve brought a practice dummy for…”

She presented a spooky looking faceless sack cloth doll smeared in dried blood.

Ari sniffed at it…having been on Galtea she had learned the scent of many species, and at times competed with Kazic in an olfactory guessing game to predict who was visiting them, giggling at Saani’s eye rolls.

This blood belonged to a Rodian.

“Who’s is that?”

“Oh that’s not important…now I want you to very carefully follow what I will teach you…”

This teaching, like most, was directly into her mind through the aether and Aethenaea cortex…it used the fact a beings force presence among living cells – no matter how far apart – was still connected – this was how you tracked animals with blood, hair or skin…but the lesson Kiraea imparted now was how to not just trace the location of the owner but transmit something through that aetheric connection to the ‘main’ body…

In this case transmitting something very nasty…a boiling fever inducing malacia attack that would most likely kill the Rodian wherever they were. 

Ari hesitated to harm someone she did not know at all…Kiraea sensed it.

“Don’t worry this is a nasty person…in fact…lets skip a lesson…I want you to delve into this beings aetheric aura not just where they are…but who they are, what they have done…”

Ari nodded and focused, melding in her minds the different techniques she needed to combine, drawing into the thread of the presence and seeking it back in terms of physical and mental space...it required three levels of consciousness to keep and caused her to start to sweat with exertion almost straight away.

The Rodian was…far away…somewhere ‘Down’ to the ‘South East’ of where she was if such a description was apt…roughly Hutt space…she felt a sensation of self assured confidence and indifference…

<Careful not to pull into the mind too much…as Kazic warned you can get a ‘taint’ in yourself…but also a strong mind or aether user might sense you and attack back> Kiraea telepathically cautioned along another stream of consciousness

<A metaphysical battle across a galaxy?>

<Correct, Sofa and Valens fought Xithar once this way…another way to connect without a physical sample is a variation on what is called by the outsiders Qâzoi Kyantuska…>

<Saani told me of that once…it is very difficult>

<For her it would be, you can trace a being by their thoughts alone, but it requires much more power and much more mental capacity than most Twi’leki possess to sustain>

There was no insult implied to Saani, merely fact that an Aethan mind possessed raw processing power a twi’leki did not.

<But it is dangerous, in time Jarys will teach you how, but you must avoid such until you are more experienced>

<I understand.> Ari returned her full focus to the Rodian…who felt a self-satisfaction at his wealth and power, but something was sickening to Ari’s stomachs about it…as if it were all due to…

<Slaves…he’s a slaver…>

<The Sons of Kessel are struggling…they send us on occasion these samples…it’s too dangerous for us to assassinate targets directly in case the Jedi catch our scent…so we help them by cursing targets for them…>

Ari felt more and more of this slavers mind, his history…what he had done as a ‘business’ and personally, the humiliation, suffering, beating, rapes he had inflicted stoked her rage

<Good, use your anger to strengthen your curse…but don’t let it cause you to be hasty… good curses must be carefully wrought…>

Ari did as Kiraea said using her budding rage to craft a twisted pattern in the aether that travelled along the connection to his blood on the doll.  It was a frothing and vomit inducing purge of digestive organs wrapped in a shell of mild tingling and shortness of breath….

<His lungs dry…his pores close…the heat in his body well…then no relief find as acid of his stomach all over his skin expel…> she chanted in the metaphysical plane

The Rodian clutched his chest as his breathing became ragged

<Good now let go…>

Despite a vicious desire to see him suffer she returned fully to her sweaty exhausted body feeling a sudden sense of dread at what she was now capable of.

Kiraea handed across a large ceramic cup of water fresh from the springs,

“It’s alright Ari, consider this…if Saani met such a slaver in the midst of his crimes what would she do?”

Ari did not hesitate as Saani would not have
“She’d…maybe try and take him alive for interrogation…”

“But most likely…”

“Kill him outright…”

“A wise woman,” Kiraea’s vicious smile lit the cavern.

Malacia and tracking methods moved to the next logical area of concealment – no matter how well you could track prey it mattered little if they saw you coming.

There were similarities to the Buried Presence methods Saani had taught, but there was a more forceful ‘depth’ to it, perhaps not better, but different a greater willingness to release ones presence into the aether as well as supressing it to a microscopic point –the two methods would be mutually exclusive for beings with only one levels of consciousness, it required four of her six to achieve a blend.

Kiraea demonstrated the Stealth Method, the Veil of Mist - sitting right in front of her Ari was astounded at how she seemed to vanish before her very eyes, the disassociation was perplexing, her mind knew she was there, but her senses could not confirm it, a dissonance that almost served as evidence.

“Is that perhaps a weakness…” Ari asked
“That the absence is almost too conspicuous,”

“hmmmm…perhaps…” Kiraea thought on it “That may be something for us to research in more detail, another time,”


Flowing into lessons on enhancing speed and strength of body was natural to help hunt, Force Speed as Kazic termed it, on top of Aethan’s existing heightened reflexes was something Aresaea easily affirmed her mastery in, shielding aura’s and strengthening spells Saani had already taught her and needed only minor tweaking to make more ‘perfect’ use of unique Aethan biology.

This smoothly moved into mental enhancement and the Rites of Aethenaea.  The Goddess of Wisdom focused on sharpening the mind, spells and incantations of clarity and vision, seior abilities practiced in more depth by Volva’s were touched upon, again many things Ari already had experience with, then moving further into enchantments and infusion of the aether into objects.

This she had more awareness than active experience in,

“This seems…deeper than how Vhal’Dan tune their lightsabre crystals…” she said as she worked the small totem with a simple sleep enchantment

“The substrates difference is only part of the reason I think…”

“It is the lack of a living link,” Kiraea explained
“The Vhal’Dan are foreign to their world and Lus’Phor…they occupy the planet but are not a part of it as we are ours…they can’t connect with the stone, the woods, the fauna as we do…by the same measure though we cannot effectively bind and enhance material from other star systems, only our own….”

The limitation was intriguing as Ari considered the example of Naga Sadow, so often when bored on Yavin she had peeked through time to watch the blazing red energy of the Sith Master at work millennia before.

She had been drawn to his presence as a child because his ‘colour’ in the aether was familiar, but soon learned he was very different.  He had, she knew, noticed her, and in his later years found something comical about it, making off hand comments to his, by then mentally degraded Massassi slaves to look for the ‘little woolmander over my shoulder’; sending them on fruitless efforts to find her thousands of years away.

Kiraea raised an eyebrow at the memories shared freely across the aether

“Interesting, I thought Sadow was more focused and imperious from the official histories Valens made me memorise…”

“He was…” Ari explained “at first…but I saw him at different times through his life…when he was older he was more…calm…focused but not aggressive, I think it was how he coped with his exile after so many years…even as he worked to preserve himself indefinitely…That was what I was thinking of, over time he got better at working the material the Massassi mined, I thought it just experience but perhaps he became more attuned to the Jungle moon itself?”

“Very possible, over enough years as cellular proteins are replaced by those from eating food grown on the planet it may occur…”

“…but not fully…one must be…conceived on a world to be truly part of it...” Ari surmised, the Keening of Aethenaea technique still in effect sharpening her deductive capabilities.

“…or actively accepted by it and its Gods…I doubt Yavin ever could accept Sadow, his monuments are scars the Green God of the planet tries to pry apart with vines and monsoons…and Galtea…the Gods there seem silent, hidden beneath the technology of Vhal’Udhav…” Ari deduced

She did not mean to sound so disparaging about her adopted parents world, yet her razor sharp tuned logic found technology could only enhance the separation,

“Well thought out…” Kiraea agreed “…and well fashioned” she noted the completed sleep totem.

There was no trial or test of abilities after learning the Rites, merely a simple ceremony.

Fingers dipped in a mix of ochre and blood Kiraea drew three lines across Ari’s face, one down the bridge of her nose the other over her eyes, then looked up to the carved statue behind her.

“Aephordaea, Aethanaea and Aertemisaea witness Aresaea has learned from me your Rites and secrets, and in doing so is now a Woman of the People, guide and bless her all the days of her life till she returns to join you….”

Kiraea looked down to Ari, her gaze solemn.

“And you Aresaea shall recall your lessons, and practice the Rites as is fitting, and when the time comes teach any girl who is of age and seeks to out the Rites as they have been taught to you, and as you have learned them in the years to come,”

“I will,” Ari nodded

Kiraea stepped forward and drew her in a tight embrace, the formal words spoken levity returning to her voice after weeks of uncharacteristic Priestess like solemnity, a side of Kiraea rarely seen.

“I know you will, there now you’re fully my younger sister!”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 16, 2020, 11:58:29 PM
Chapter 15 — Ari’s Quest — Unlearn what you have learned — Part 2

Aresaea
(https://i.ibb.co/g4tDMnY/Ari-9.jpg) (https://ibb.co/g4tDMnY)
Her mouth was dry, hair a mess having slipped from its tight bun, skin more purple than white with bruises.

And her last trick had just failed.

She had started using the methods Saani did against a larger, stronger opponent – speed and dexterity to get behind or limit their motion and attack at range.  So many times she’d watched Saani beat Kazic sparring by doing such.

Ari’s opponent had dexterity arguably greater than own – Ari had become “accustomed to the limited range of outsider humanoid movement”.

She changed tactics, when she had trained against tediowans and koawans she’d found her greater weight gave her an advantage in addition to her elasticity, they would underestimate her bodies greater density. 

Using her weight to anchor her against attacks and power her blows was a silly move when her opponent was heavier still.

She tried stealth, the buried presence Saani had taught her tweaked with the Rites of Aertemisaea of the Hunt…but her opponent a master himself and married to the most expert stealth practitioner among the People.

She tried mental thorns and tentative metaphysical attacks, the suddenness of such had once floored Kazic…her opponent was in what she could only describe as a trance like state where there was almost no ‘conscious’ to manipulate.

Illusions, Malacia, energy, heat and gravity techniques all proved equally ineffective.

Now she was alone barely clothed on the harsh windswept steppe as a titan in polished shell armour charged toward her at over a hundred kilometres an hour.

She remained calm, and focused, neither frustration nor seeming hopelessness would shake her composure.

Rocks hurled telekinetically shattered against the hissing serpent he wielded, its bladed body more than a match for her now shattered training sword of mere dura-steel.

She raised the very soil itself to block his path but he crashed through, electrified the air with lightening that simply curled round the shell

She couldn’t target the Yuuzhan Vong shell armour properly it was…hazy…to her senses…apparently it was exceptional she could even feel that…and seemed to ignore the aether and insulate the warrior beneath it.

Less than two metres away, about to ram her down.  She was on her knees tensed to pounce in another futile attack…there was only once option left so recently learned.

With a quick flick of her nails she cut her palms open as he reached her, fierce spikes on his shoulders and gauntlets ready to bleed her even more.

She sprang on her knees up and over the dreadnought of a man her own blood spraying out…

Tiny droplets wound into the gills of the armour that breathed and fed and lived.

Connected to her own aetheric presence still she heated them to a boiling temperature causing the voduun armour to screech in gleeful pain…through the aether sent invisible trains of lighting to her erstwhile cells.

All across the vast spiked warrior tendrils of energy linked the drops of boiling blood to chain him in a lighting cage as she landed just behind him, turning quickly to pour more energy into the lock to drive him down.

For a brief second he seemed to falter.

Then deciding he’d had enough her lighting was sucked in and hurled back at her in a wave of energy that send her cartwheeling in half controlled tumbles over sharp newly shattered rocks.

She landed with her face in the dirt and felt the heavy squelching boots beside her head.

A powerful hand lifted her up.

“Solid baseline…”Jarys congratulated despite her defeat

“Well done Aresaea,”

<<<<>>>>

“Saani has trained you well,” Jarys noted as they sat upon dusty rocks that littered the steppe, harsh grasses, that even at full health were patch, slowly reclaiming the thin soils.

“Very well…apart from myself, Milaea, Kiraea, Melron and Valens I don’t think you would have much trouble winning a match,” he explained as they both recovered.

Ari felt a sense of pride, not in herself but her parents, the others - Lyaea, Selaena, Maeson and Adaea were far more experienced, their aetheric and physical strength hardened by fighting Jedi, pirates and Sithspawn, it was testament to Saani and Kazics efforts teaching her if she was so well placed.

“Without the Voduun crab armour’s immunity to the aether your aetheric attacks would’ve worn me down significantly…not enough…but far more than you did…”

He leaned back contemplating her range of abilities

“There are few things left to teach you technique wise…a few refinements on what you know certainly, increase your aetheric efficiency, using your range of motion better and your thoughts are loud…but overall…you are more than competent to be affirmed a Guardian,”

Ari perked up at that till she sensed the a hint of ‘but’ in Jarys aura

“Your training will focus more on weapons, metaphysical and mental fortitude, mine will focus on discerning the weakness the Vhal’Dan might find in our existing suite of abilities and preferred tactics.”

Guardian training had a strong mutual component to it, analogous less to an apprentice and master relationship than mutual apprenticeship that occasionally occurred among the Vhal'Dan.

“Let us begin on that point then, why did you never join the Vhal’dan order?” he asked bluntly

“I…” she was taken a bit aback her usual calm demeanor cracked by an unexpected question with an answer seemingly so obvious that he needn’t ask…she was People not Vhal’dan…and yet…

“Yet you lived among them for years, adopted two senior members as your parents, did they not encourage you to join, they certainly trained you as well as any Teidowan would’ve been,”

Ari realised that what he must’ve meant by loud thoughts as he spoke the very ones she was having as she had them. 

It didn’t matter among People, they shared everything telepathically and learnt by delving each other constantly, something she had to suppress with the Vhal’dan given their very different notions of ‘privacy’.

“It can also be an opening for others to probe your intentions, Jedi, Sith…but we will work on that later – what is your answer?”

“I suppose I never felt the need or desire… Saani never pressured me to, it never seemed to worry her,”

“Would it not have made her proud if you had? Surely you would’ve passed with ease” his tone slightly combative – this was part of her training as much as any sparring. 

She kept her tone even and controlled

“True but…it would’ve drawn attention, they didn’t want people to know what I was capable of in case it spread fear especially after the details of the Night of Madness reached Galtea…”

“They feared for you or themselves?”

“Both perhaps, mainly me, Anson was becoming paranoid…even if I had joined he would never have believed it I think…”

“You’re diverting from the point, Anson’s reaction wouldn’t be a large factor in a decision to join or not given that was years after you arrived on Galtea - why didn’t you join?”

She frowned brow furrowed

“I suppose I never…couldn’t ever really understand or agree to it…the oaths needed to dedicate oneself to them…I’m People, not Vhal’Dan – it was hard enough to understand they were an elective people of all kinds of species, their other rules and things.  And I never saw the conflict, they are a multicultural society, I can live among them, love them, befriend them and stay true to my People and Goddesses, why should I have to join them?”

Jarys raised an eyebrow, a gesture that in People could only be deliberate at her defensiveness

Ari realised how worked up she’d gotten as if…as if it were Anson demanding she explain herself to him.

Quickly she checked herself for any kind of interference, whether Jarys was playing some kind of trick on her, using the aether to open up memories of Anson’s trying to arrest her….

But there was nothing.  It was all her own anxieties.

Jarys simply nodded, noting he had finally hit on a sore point in her otherwise tranquil demeanor – one he would fully exploit.

“Anson tried to take you…that in itself is cause for anger an punishment…Goddesses know were we not so few and the Vhal’dan so many…”

He left the sentence hanging...

“And he did cause you grief and loss, your adoptive uncle and cousins lost their lives, you were parted from Saani and Kazic with no time to take comfort with…you’ve been left with unresolved tensions and anger because of that, and before that other fears from when you were abducted in the Devastation, the crash, the loss of your uncle, isolation on Yavin…”

He noted very carefully her thoughts, emotions and expressions – or lack thereof as he listed her grievances, there was a trained calm regarding more than he expected.  She would require a very different approach than any of the others.

“I can feel Saani helped you with some of this, for that the People will always hold her as a Friend…but still…”

He stood and reached out his hand.

“…You will need to learn how to use them to enhance your strength when needed,”

She took his hand…
…and in less than a second she was spun round and thrown bodily toward a crag, the shock on her face fleeting - her poise in recovering exceptional for her age.

Aresaea was a special case indeed Jarys grinned behind his expressionless mask of adamantium.

<<<<>>>>

See Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War - Interlude-A Day In A Life IV for interim event.
http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg646582#msg646582 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg646582#msg646582)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 17, 2020, 12:17:13 AM
 
Chapter 15 — Ari’s Quest — Unlearn what you have learned — Part 3

Jarys
Exceptional was the only word that did her justice.

Even for an Aethan, Ari learned quickly - all the basics, and most of the advanced techniques she had already learned from her adoptive parents and wide variety of friends and acquaintances on Galtea, to say nothing of her innate abilities.

As he’d deduced from the start her thoughts were ‘loud’ intentions easily read, dexterity not at its peak as Saani could only teach with reference to her bodies more limited range of motions - context was critical – it was only against other People this was noticeable, and within an aethan week – nine days of 43 standard hours - she had the skills she needed to improve on her own over time.

She took quickly to working with the Extolled, no doubt her experience working with so many other species on Galtea helping.  Yhum had certainly found her breadth of different styles learned from so many cultures on Galtea exhilarating to behold.

A mere two Aethan months after they had begun she was nearing the end, in the sweltering summer he had her row to the jungle isles where she was to face a final battle of sorts before her trial.

In a glade a few kilometres from the Extolled damuteks and ghorsal spires that appeared as sea shells jutting amidst the thick vegetation, Aresea stalked around the training circle eyeing off her opponent, half the Extolled watched on always entranced to see their Avatars in combat.

(https://i.ibb.co/c28Wt3T/ArI-R-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/c28Wt3T)

Taryn, with a now solid muscular frame after months of training and recovery with Melron, walked casually with a smirk on his face as if baiting Ari with his indifference.

“Alright then green-speck,” his voice was leering as he limbered up, each was clad only lightly in the heat, Taryn simple shorts, Aresaea a simple cross wrap top and tight trousers.

Taryn spat on the ground as they continued to circle, the disrespect planned before hand - Melron had found practical applications for Taryn’s bawdy rejoinders and taunting in a modified form of Dun Moch that sought to boisterously undermine an opponent’s confidence rather than the more traditional subtlety.

It was so brash and obvious Taryn’s opponent would think it easy to ignore, ironically exposing themselves further.

Taryn leaned forward

“Come on bushy tail, scared huh?”

‘green speck’ no doubt referred to Ari’s Aqua eyes, ‘Bushy Tail’ her pony-tail as she let her hair grow over the last few weeks, its length enhanced by proper Aethan food.

Ari was, as always composed, the calm and poise of her mother a little too much for Jarys liking.  It was difficult to get her emotionally aggressive, a barrier when Aephrodaea’s Grace and many of the most power hormonal states required such. 

He hoped Taryn find some cracks Jarys could exploit.

“All right then,” Taryn sniffed  “If you’re not gonna start,”

He leapt at Ari with speed and strength, she dodged expertly his first three blows before he finally locked her into a tussle.

Melron beside Jarys was just as keen to see the progress of his ward after several months of intensive training.

The competition was fierce, Taryn used his height and reach well, his attacks still bearing a street fighters flair and unpredictability that Melron had encouraged, often forcing Ari to readjust her strategy as her precognition turned out to be of little use, Taryn effectively blocking glimpses into the future.

Aresaea used dexterity and variety of honed techniques with more control and precision, where she struck she did so hard and repeatedly, Taryn pretended to be unphased as she drove three hits to the same pectoral, by elbow, knee then palm between his jabs and weaving.

“Ah come on, you hit like Spice addled Twi’leki tralk,” he hissed out even as he tried to gain distance to reassess his approach.

“All that blue bimbo could teach you huh,”

Ari’s only ‘reaction’ to the insult was a serene low charge with sweeping kicks turning into acrobatic flips peppering Taryn form all sides,

“More flexible than a Nagai Schutta I’ll give you that,” he huffed forearms sore from blocking as he chanced a spray or hooks and twisted into a grab catching Ari’s wrist and with a quick twist using all his weight to drive into the loamy soil which took the brunt of the impact before she could break and roll away.

“Shame, you look good on your back legs wide open, your bimbo teach you that too?”

Finally there was a twitch in Ari’s otherwise placid visage.

They all noticed it and the attacks from Taryn, verbal and physical intensified three fold, Taryn’s insults against Saani beginning at lurid and intensifying to outright abhorrent.

Ari knew the words were a weapon no different to Taryn’s fists and shins barraging against her, she knew it was a modified form of Dun Moch. 

But that was all at an intellectual level…she had never been subject to such before…emotionally it was all she could do to keep herself focused and calm.

The fight had been going for three minutes, the Vong barely able to see as they fought at full speed with four times human reflexes, the foliage around rustling with the shockwave of the blows when they landed, the ground churned up when they missed.

Taryns insults became increasingly vulgar, she should be able to ignore them, but the tone and freebooter swagger made them drip with gaudy realism in her mind.

“…guess blue bimbo couldn’t teach you how to use head tentacles to stroke a guy off eh, or is that why you’re growing your locks long?”
“…so one of the kids survived the blast, D’Arial…heh better luck next time,”
“…just where does an Anzat put those nose suckers when he’s getting off?”

Jarys knew Ari could do it, she had incredibly pinned Anson and his sentinels to the ground radiating purple aetheric energy ,clouds of energy building around her when Saani and Kazic were threatened, the issue was she needed to be able to enter such as state at will, reaction to a situation was not enough.

The tussle reached the next stage, without the aether their respective strengths and weaknesses resulted only in an ever shifting dynamic stalemate, Taryn was the first to draw on the aether, Ari soon followed enhancing her speed as he teleport shunted about her with each strike.

<Aresaea has the edge in an aetheric battle, won’t be long now…> Melron noted <and those words are bouncing off her>

<That is what I’m afraid of>

The speed intensified, to adamantium strikes were added their respective preference in aetheric shielding, Taryn covered by blue flame, Ari a purple tinged lighting

<Purple…> Melron’s surprise evident <that might be…> Jarys need not respond, they knew what it could mean – only one other Aethan had such colouring in their aura – Milaea – a signifier of a potential intensity of power far greater than either elder Guardian, Kiraea or even Valens could obtain – the union of the destructive blue of lighting with the life giving red of shatterpoint healing.

<Taryn go harder> Jarys ordered across a private telepathic channel.

Straining Taryn drew on his rage at losing twice to the brutish Feeorin Gyl, fists balling tightly, body filled with the aether from without and within as he tripled the intensity of his attacks, the very limit of what he could muster.

Fists, kinetite, Metaphysical thorns and tendrils of flame assailed her in a conflagration as intensive as it was instantaneous. 

Ari could not quite react in time, like broken mirror one level of consciousness was cracked, her lighting shield overcome and skin singed, her sweat laced clothes starting to burn away, already bruised limbs buckled under the endless cavalcade of blows.

“come on Green speck, what’s the matter, worried about how mummy is probably getting hard-frelled by a dozen sentinels as Anson bleeds her for information on where you are?”

The words finally bit. As her eyes narrowed and the aether pulsed in her body as if her cells would explode with it.

“Yeah what did you think would happen, you beat up his goons then ran off - left her behind, you think Anson gave up, he’ll be torturing that blue bimbo till the nerfs come home to find you!”

Taryn pushed an image across the aether of Anson, fingers like metal blades jamming them in Saani’s spine, electrifying every nerve with pain as he screamed demanding to know where the ‘spy’ Aresaea had gone.

That Taryn had not been there, that his rendering of Anson and Saani was based on second hand knowledge didn’t matter.  It could be possible, Anson could have gotten out of prison and at this very moment be tormenting her parents to continue his crusade against her.

Blinding protective rage exploded as pure energy light her body in an ethereal purple glow, eyes losing colour to beam like torches, energy flickering from every pore.

She barely noticed the transition had sent a wave that knocked the Extolled to the ground and flattened a number of trees, only Melron and Jarys still standing.  Her complete focus was on protecting her mother, rage was directed to Taryn who found himself sinking into the ground with telekinetic weight dragging him into the planets molten core.

To his credit, and Melron’s pride Taryn did not stop resisting even as the unstoppable force sought to crush him lifeless, he darted what mental thorns and even some illusions to try and break free, it did no good, but Melron knew he would’ve done little better.

The intensity of the grip was becoming serious, many Extolled were chanting, rubbing their faces in dirt and other various acts of devotion to Aresaea as she burned with intense aetheric energy, some shouted Yun-Lingi the name of their most Mysterious deity that was only uttered in the most hallowed of moments – the name of the Hidden One that Is Feared. 

Jarys did not fail to notice a dozen or so in the crowd who whilst overawed were not showing any signs of worship.

Aresaea felt the trembling tingle of the power wash over her, similar to how she had felt when Anson tried to arrest her…but different. 

The shock of the newness of the sensation was less, she felt more control stemming from her training in the Arts and Rites of Aephordaea and Jarys Aethan specific Guardian training.  Her mind was cool, calculating and aware that the target of her instinctual assault was not her true opponent.

For a brief moment Jarys gathered his strength to hurl Taryn to safety, Jarys strength in the aether – for now – enough to counter Aresaea’s, Melron likewise positioning to assist.

A calmness settled over Ari as she parsed through the situation in all its constituent parts as Saani had taught her to, frantic arcs became a steady glow, the rock crushing grip slid away from Taryn who gasped for breath.

She had a measure of control over this power that she had not had last time.  Intentionally diminishing it, her body returning to a more stable state as she used the hormonal controls Kiraea had taught her to rebalance the altered endocrine patterns quickly.

Jarys nodded approvingly.

<<<<>>>>

“…but what if it is true…if Anson is interrogating Saani to find me…” her voice was quiet and pleading.

Taryn’s Dun Moch had left a deeper impression than Jarys had anticipated.  Brash as it’s delivery Taryn had hit on an eminently possible scenario that struck Ari deeply. 

It was easy for Ari to check with the orb she had given Saani, Ari’s orb currently in Mount Aelia, but that would defeat the opportunity to teach Ari a greater lesson.

“And if it is true, then what?” he asked arms across his chest atop a log in the afternoon sun, the scent of the villip paddies nearby mingling with the blooms of orange Obiya flowers on the forest floor that slithered with Vostaff.

Ari sat on the ground her clothes little better than burnt shreds after the fight, she briefly closed her eyes and breathed in a technique he had seen her mother use often to calm her thoughts.

“Then…I should still be here, Saani wouldn’t want me returning to a dangerous situation…and even if I wanted to free her I need to finish my training first…I wouldn’t be able to defeat Anson or the numbers of Vhal’Dan he would have if he were holding her if it came to it...yet.”

Looking up from the ground she locked Jarys gaze, a firmness to her demeanour she had lacked before.

“I understand why you had to get Taryn to push me like that, if I’m to protect myself, and others better I have to master accessing that emotional and physiological state,”

Once more Jarys nodded in approval, her insight accurate once more.

“You’ve the Wisdom, Strength and Compassion of the Goddesses, Aresaea,” he refrained from using the Goddesses name as was fitting for a male

“Clarity of mind and purpose, you need only to harness your full potential better and then when fully grown…”

Ari was after all only in her late twenties in standard years, young adulthood in Aethan growth, although fertile from seventeen standard Aethans did not fully mature into final adulthood until thirty eight to forty with adequate nutrition that firmed and strengthened skin, bones and muscles by a solid margin.

He knelt to place a hand on her shoulder

“You will become far greater than I ever will,”

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 17, 2020, 12:25:34 AM
Chapter 15 — Ari’s Quest — Unlearn what you have learned — Part 4

Aresaea

To her great relief, Saani was fine.  As a parting gift Jarys had Kiraea drop off the link orb before Ari left.

Anson was still being held in a Detention Cell, and although as they spoke briefly, the distance between Deep Core and the Marcol void a struggle even for the enchanted link-orbs to bridge, Ari noted growing worry in her mother about the situation among the Vhal’Dan so far its seemed things were improving with Kazic to be named Arbiter shortly.

The pressure and worry had in a way been good, for that she would thank Taryn next time she saw him.  The thought of her Mother in danger was a trigger to help her control Aephordaea’s Grace state, her technique still imperfect, but sufficient for Jarys to send her back to Mount Aelia – the long way.

For nearly two weeks she ran and walked without rest from the steppe where they had finished the training, a final test of endurance, and time to reflect alone on her lessons.

The Arts Kiraea had taught helped with enhanced speed and better metabolic control, Jarys methods of movement improved her muscular efficiency.

Her final task was to climb the outer face of Mount Aelia to the hangar where she was to receive her final trial to be set by one of the others as an independent test of her skills.

By the time she hauled herself over the lip into the main hangar overlooking the grassy plain she had so recently wandered through, having had to open the vast door telekinetically, more than a little worn and sweaty the Guardian to test her was waiting. 

Her brow furrowed momentarily to see Valens…she had hoped for Kiraea or Melron…possibly because she thought they would be easier…Valens she could never really read – but that was precisely why it had to be him.

“You’ve finished?” he asked quietly - despite the fact the hangars natural acoustics should’ve echoed his voice it remained dull and whisper like.

“We never really finish…” she replied calmly and clearly

He nodded, that answer seemed fitting.

“Well then tell me what you think would be a fitting trial and that shall be what I set.”

Brow creasing once more she wondered if this was the trial…a verbal game, trial of wisdom…no that seemed ill fitting…

Of course…what better way to test someone that make them create their own test…I have to show that I have insight into myself…too easy I appear lazy, too hard prideful or ignorant of my weaknessed…

Saani would no doubt have been very impressed with Valens means of trial…it truly forced you to face yourself…yet Ari needed something fitting for People, something that wouldn’t be…nice…yet would achieve something for everyone’s benefit…

Something…she hadn’t thought to do – after all she couldn’t till now…and something she ought to acknowledge more. 

Ari spent so much time reflecting on Saani and Kazic at times she neglected another’s memory just as important.

“I will…return to Yavin and repatriate my Uncles body home for proper burial…”

Valens needn’t long to parse through the layers of meaning and challenge attendant on returning to where she had been marooned and alone.

“So you have spoken so I enjoin upon you…I’ll go with you to oversee your trial, but you will need to ask someone else to come with us, it’s not safe for us to move in small numbers.”

Ari nodded – in this too there was a test…Kiraea or Jarys were obvious choices…too obvious…in fact everyone would readily agree except…there was only one Person she was uncertain of…

<<<<>>>>

“Increase the screening on amplitudes of 5000 Aeths or higher…it would be near impossible for someone to shout that loud…” Milaea instructed as she felt out the reception the obelisk getting from the Link Orbs they had placed on Csilla to serve as fixed testing signals to better perfect its ability to pick up useful signals amidst the endless twisting flows of the aether from across the galaxy.

“Alright….” Adaea twitched her fingers on the 3rd Buffering orb – one of nine that adjusted and sharpened signal…Ari’s experience of nearly not getting through had Milaea worried weaker signals were being lost.

The adjustment made the message came through slightly clearer ”Signal Test Orb Zero-Zero-Zero-Two Current White – Amplitude 4500 Aeths – Frequency 4 hertz – Limited Spectrum – Key Words – Three – Goddess – People – Of The – Aephrodaea – Aertemisaea – Aethanaea – Alixaea – Guardian – Signal Test”

The technocracy had at least left behind enough information to test the device and measure Aetheric signals using ‘Aeths’ units of the Aether or Force…a queerly scientific method for such a spiritual or primal thing.

“Excuse me,” A sweet and low voice called out amidst the whirr of generators and the aetheric crackle of the Obelisks.

“hmmm…just a moment…” a final tweak and Milaea was done.

“Oh Ari!” she turned surprised, she had been looking forward to seeing her again, but did not expect her so soon.

“Are you here to train?”

Ari shook her head as Adaea poked out from under a console equally perplexed

“No, I’ve finished the main training,”

“So soon?” Adaea looked surprised as Milaea gently felt out Ari’s aura.  Ari had already been strong in the aether, but following the months of training that was now greater, sharper and more refined

“You already knew much from your Parents on Galtea,” Milaea answered for her,

Ari nodded

“Yes, but it’s my Uncle I’ve come to ask about Tarasen…I wish to repatriate his body from Yavin, bring him to rest on Aethas, I need another to go with myself and Valens, Milaea I was wondering if you would join us, I mean help me?”

Again she found herself somewhat tongue tied around Milaea.

Milaea simply smiled, quickly deducing this must be her final trial.

“I’d be happy to return Tarasen home with you, and to see Yavin and the Massassi ruins there…but first…”

She grabbed a filtering orb from its ensconced hollow and tossed it to Ari who caught the 100 kilo razorball sized grey-sleet.

“…I’ll need your help to finish up with some testing and enhancements of the Obelisk Array,”

Ari turned the orb over in her hands, smile growing with the warmth in her breast to work closely with Milaea and help to ensure no other People found their message delayed as hers had so painfully been.

“Gladly!”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on September 17, 2020, 05:29:06 PM
I love how this not only fills in the gaps with "Schisms" but also ties into (indeed, enhances!) the narrative.  We really get to see Ari come into her own here, growing as a result of her time with both of her extended families.  That's what makes Ari such a great character: she is a child of two worlds, belonging to both while still straddling their disparate cultures.  And--as we've seen--she is definitely a potent force, again made stronger by her feelings for ALL of her family. 

One of my favorite scenes has got to be her Guardian training with Taryn (supervised by Jarys).  Her serene nature learned by Saani is both a boon...and an obstacle.  Leave it to Taryn to help circumvent (OK...SMASH) her emotional barriers.  But this makes sense: the last time that Ari had exhibited such raw power was when she, Saani, and Kazic were threatened...

It's intriguing to see Ari's arc here and her immersion into Aethan society.  Although inclusive to a point, there's much that they nevertheless are determined to divest her of.  But couldn't much of the same be said of how humans raise their own children?  And here's the crux of one of the underlying points of Aethan culture woven throughout these stories: "morals" and "social mores" are a filter seen through the eyes of the beholder.  And just like the Force, there are black and white perspectives, gray and the entire spectrum of colors.

After reading this (and knowing what is on the horizon), seeing Ari here is that much more bittersweet...

Oh, and special thanks to LSG for adding SO much to Kazic's, Saani's, and Ari's narrative!  His INCREDIBLE storytelling is absolutely transportive, full of rich and engrossing details  ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 28, 2020, 02:08:31 AM
Chapter 16 — Ari’s Quest — Pilgrimage — Part 1
Aresaea
(https://i.ibb.co/ZxbmbXh/Aldera.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)
Rounded white architecture ingeniously diverted alpine breezes off the surrounding mountains away from the paths and promenades of the gleaming city of Aldera.

Set upon a lake it was the jewel within the jewel of one of the most beautiful worlds of the Republic.  The curves of the white architecture and green of the innumerable small gardens along paths to and from the space ports, universities, museums and hotels spoke of refinement, wealth and peace.

Ari strode along the edge of one of the large rounded walkways that looked out over the lake filled with small skiffs and sailing craft under a yellow sun.

The trip from the Deep Core had been relatively quick, a brief pause in the intensity if not frequency of Electromagnetic pulses of the Persephaea Nova enabling them to take a short cut to Fresia for Valens to check in with Lyr,

There Ari met Colm Maynard for the first time – a ship thief Kiraea as a teen had mind controlled and taken as a kind of mentor in learning how Outsider society works…and taught stealing as a way to earn credits for herself, Lyaea and Adaea. 

Once more Ari found the compulsion he was under disturbing, he had been given a good life, rejuvenated youth and a wife in Xandra who was expecting their first child, given Colm was over 70 now he owed such to the Aethans blessings…yet even so he was like a well-treated pet badged as a friend. 

It was a strange to consolation that Milaea felt the same discomfort at the compulsion the men were under.

It opened the door for them to speak in more depth as Ari piloted the Aertemisaea through the glowing blue of hyperspace.

Of course they spoke on many things, their favourite holo-vids, foods, Milaea showed her the tapestries she worked on, and together they worked more on calculations for the Obelisk array while the ship was on auto pilot during the longer jumps.

After one rest cycle on the Aertemisaea Milaea invited her to join her with waking exercises and showed her some karta’s Soryu had developed, Ari in turn showing her those she had learned from Saani.

“Very tranquil,” Milaea sad behind her, voice clear in the alpine air away from the hubbub of the shops.

Unhappy about her husband’s absence on Galtea, or rather the lack of gifts he brought back, as well as a desire to get some ‘civilization’ Sofa had joined them to stop over at Alderaan on the way out of the core.  Sofa was currently doing her best to swamp Valens in cellophanate-bags, Silk-board boxes and gold leaf pressed order receipts on her shopping spree, leaving the two younger women free to roam.

“Even more than Galtea…like it used to be when I first arrived, “Ari replied still looking on the icy blue waters, the sense of loss of that innocent and exciting time lingering.

“Come on,” Milaea broke in not wanting Ari to dwell too much “Let’s have a look around, Sofa is just getting warmed up,”

With a smile Ari joined her, welcoming a break after so many weeks of intensive training as well as the change of scene.

While Aldera had an excellent public transport system of small free grav skiffs parked in blue taped bays near major areas the Aethan women walked between most of the sites, jogging occasionally through larger thoroughfares where no one would notice their inhuman speed.

They began with a tour of the Royal Palace, located roughly in the centre of the city, the current monarchs absent at the time enabling them to tour more of the private quarters.

“Goddesses we can’t let Sofa in here…” Milaea teased as they wandered the tastefully restrained but still impeccably opulent furnishings, rich silvers and whites accented with blues and emerald greens.
“…she’ll make Valens bring the whole lot back with him, I’m certain she brought half the Hapan Palace from her honeymoon,”

“Where is she going to put it all?” Ari asked with a giggle
“Once everything is finished with the Obelisk array and the recovery…I suspect Valens will be very busy making her the most opulent palace Aethas has ever seen,”

The Museum of Modern Expression was next, the wide columned galleries quiet in the middle of the day, multi spectral glasses offered by service droids so all species to see the painting and works of art fashioned in static neutrino clouds or electromagnetic spectrums beyond most humanoids field of vision.

“Huh…look at this…” Ari said as they passed the reception.  Amidst the other notices and pamphlets was a small display for the Arts of Aephrodaea just as she had seen on Corellia,

“It’s still going,”

Milaea nodded “We’re cycling every system that will take it, Lyr manages it at the moment, I have to say I’m amazed it’s been as successful as it has in giving you and the others the confidence to reach out in the aether knowing someone is listening,”

Ari absently flicked through the pamphlet paused eyes narrowing on one example picture, she held it up to view it next to Milaea

“Did you pose for this one?”

With a flash of a smile Milaea snatched the pamphlet from her hand, turning her nose up to the side.

“I neither confirm nor deny those allegations!”

The University of Alderaan was nearby, white domed buildings set amidst lush green gardens, the students, mostly Alderaanian, but a significant number of other species, moving between classes that reminded Ari of Galtea’s multicultural make up, and Milaea of the Jedi Temple.  Both sort contrasts to the mono-cultural xenophobia of their People and their ‘pets’.

Lost among the throng of the other students they breezed through the various departments listening in here and there on lectures in the airy auditoriums, or poking in to view workshops, in one a relatively young blonde human woman guided students on the translation of Killik glyphs found on the petrified hives of the Castle lands in the Far northern steppes before their migration off world, the circumstances of which were still uncertain.

“I read something about a race called the Celestials moving the Killiks to use as workers in grand Galactic scale engineering…” Ari noted of her time at Vhal’Udav University.

“It was a dismissed theory, a myth to cover their leaving Alderaan after depleting natural resources as a migratory locust species…but I think there is enough evidence that the Celestials were real…”

There was an uplifting wonder in Ari’s voice Milaea had not heard before.

“I wish we had time to study more into it…investigate all the places across the galaxy and follow the path back…”

“You really enjoy the archaeology and history,”

“I do,” Ari beamed, “It was so interesting and challenging puzzling out translations and connecting different sources, geology, astropgraphy, genetic drift in population, etymology…”

“You did a lot of that at Vhal’Udhav?”

“Not in a formal role at first, Kazic arranged with the Research Department to give me accesses to artefacts from Yavin to help in translating, after that I moved onto other projects with Jorol and Tsarvung…”

“Perhaps one day you’ll get the chance to research it,” Milaea said with more hope than she had for some time, Ari seemed to bring that out in her.

Another half dozen stops and they were back near the spaceport, the sun beginning to set, hungry enough even for outsider food they stopped at a restaurant, one of a dozen surrounding a round courtyard that featured a large complex fountain in the centre of lush blue and violet flower beds.

It wasn’t till they sat and ordered, selecting from the additive options for non-humanoid species available to ensure their meals were, as much as possible, richer in the heavy metals and dense proteins they required.

It was then they began to notice the area must be something of a ‘couples’ zone.  A number of flower sellers, wandering well dressed musician’s, holotogrpahers and pop up jewellery stands appeared as the first sitting filled up with mainly human couples.

“Looks like date night central,” Milaea teased checking briefly on her link orb, Sofa noting they were still loading the last of her purchases onto the ship, Milaea wondered how many stores had been emptied.

Looking around at the canoodling couples Ari had to agree,

“Seems so…a beautiful spot for it with the fountain,” as the sun set delicate lights beamed to colour the curving arcs of water in rich patterns. Their alfresco table was quite close and no doubt the envy of a number of other couples who arrived after them.

Other couples Ari shook off the odd wording, they were not a couple just friends, recent ones at that.

“hmmm….so…was there…sorry it’s too personal…”Milaea backtracked despite Ari sensing a budding curiosity in her aura

“What? Nothing is too personal after everything Kiraea asked and showed me…”

“Ha, well there is that, I genuinely don’t think she understands what privacy is in an ‘outsider’ sense, but she means well,”

“So ask away,” Ari encouraged

“Was there anyone…special…were you, are, close with on Galtea?”

“Oh…” Ari was not quite expecting that despite everything in the environment around them making it an obvious question.

“ha…um…Kiraea asked me the same thing…” her reply was more nervous giggle than words

“No…not…I made lots of friends but…then I wasn’t allowed to be alone and there were the curfews and restrictions…and I suppose I just never really thought about even looking to be honest,”

A strange sense of relief tickled at Ari’s senses before Milaea clamped down on it as if embarrassed by the emotion.

Fortunately the waiter arrived with their meals to break the unusual tension and turned back to less serious topics.

A day of fun and a little frivolity, almost flirting an observer might think, came to an end as they walked back to the space port beneath the multi coloured promenade lights under the gentle caress of the evening winds off the lake and mountains far beyond.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 28, 2020, 02:11:48 AM
Chapter 16 — Ari’s Quest — Pilgrimage — Part 2

 
Aresaea

A mix of nectar, pollen and the pheromones, waste and blood of two dozen species filled her nose. 

With a rush the memory and understanding of it all came back to her – the Koyo’s were fruiting, the Stintaril rodents were plundering roosts of whisper birds to the point of near extinction – but in the constant cycle of Yavin 4’s ecology they fattened rodents, lazy after mating and feasting would soon end up prey for larger creatures, the survivors litters would go underground and the Whisper birds would return next season in force.

The jungle moon had been her home for many years, and it remembered her, the aether of the Green God offering a respectful welcome – while it knew she was not native it didn’t resent her presence like it did the Massassi and Sith ruins that it tried to demolish with vine and rain over the millennia.

She silently strode from the clearing they had landed in, Valens close behind to observe, the humid climate dramatically contrasting with the alpine Alderaan and Aethas took him a moment to adjust his thermoregulation under his full armour.  Knowing what to expect Ari had opted for more natural attire of traditional linens and Gormin leather that was also more customary for a Guardians trial.

“It’s still a fairly long walk from here,” she said clearly
“Perhaps half a day to the mesa,”

While they could’ve landed closer to do so would’ve crushed too much foliage for Ari’s liking, she didn’t wish to disturb the planet’s environment any more than necessary, a fact Valens respected, and in so doing puzzled Ari – he had a great reverence for the nature of this and other worlds as was fitting but on the other hand had no qualms about eliminating sentient outsiders by the score if it suited him.

Thinking through all she had learnt she could only surmise he, Kiraea and the others, considered Outsiders ‘godless’ when they were not on their home world and not deserving of respect, their cities built of unnatural metals and minerals blights whose destruction was of no consequence.

“Very well, return to me when you’ve completed your task fully,” his voice was solemn fitting the occasion of her trial, but there was an edge to it that suggested she needed to do more than just exhume, pack and carry the body back.

Ari needed to honour Tarasen, the whole of his legacy and reflect upon it, and the only way to do that was to share his story with others.

“You’re not… Sofa complained stepping out of the hatch behind Valens
“You are…” she sighed sweeping her long balk hair into a pony tail with a dingle deft motion that bound it with an Aephordaean diamond band.

Ari looked slightly puzzled till Sofa followed on with her complaint

“Do we really have to poke around thousand year old ruins full of stinking sith ghosts patrolled by the feral massassi who worship them,”

Valens didn’t reply, but Ari couldn’t hide her amusement at the pair, Valens had so diligently and uncomplainingly followed her about Alderaan, but in typical fashion for an Aethan woman she had no desire to reciprocate indulging his curiosity.

“Fine…” Sofa relented with faux exasperation, “But I’m not carrying those damn orbs,”

Valens had a secondary goal to place a number of Surveillance Orbs at key points among the ruins, the goal top detect and record any others who visited here in the future, a way of keeping tabs of other aether users investigating ancient and powerful sights. 

The first step in a program that would on day cover thousands of such ruins and wellsprings of the aether across the galaxy.

Gnurr and the Extolled were not far behind, the scouting party of Yuuzhan Vong eager to explore a new world, and perhaps test their mettle against the Massassi.

Given how the violent natives took to anyone approaching the deeper shrines and Valens laser focus to plant orbs as close as possible to them Ari was certain they could get their chance.

Of course, to Ari’s great pleasure, that left only one person to share Tarasens story with on the walk.

Stepping out behind them in relatively light clothing, light but tough red dyed leathers Milaea looked every inch the jungle explorer, her sabre at her side seeming to cling possessively to her hip as much as Ari’s drifting eyes.

Though they had spent a fun day together on Alderaan and were already fast friends, Ari couldn’t take for granted the other woman’s assent.

There was a slight look of discomfort on Milaea’s face as Ari approached her, waddling slightly due to the medi-vac pod on her back to carry her uncles body.

“What’s wrong?” Ari inquired

“The Aether here…it’s…”

“Oh…that,” Ari realized for someone trained mostly by the Temple Jedi Sith ruins could be discomforting.

“If you try and channel from here…” without even thinking she reached out to tweak the flow of the aether around Milaea more toward the ‘green’ flows of the jungle and plant life,

“Oh, sorry, I should’ve asked!” Ari quickly apologised for the intrusion

“It’s fine, thank you, such a mix of the Aether here…so much going on, are you heading off?”

“Yes, but, I was wondering if you would join me, not to help with my trial of course but to listen to hear Tarasens story told?”

“I’d be honoured, but….”

“But?” quick concern crossed Ari’s face

“But you have to promise you’ll show me some of those famous deep ravine waterfalls after wards,”

“Deal!”

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/KK67g0t/Ari-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/KK67g0t)

There was no real path, any tracks she had left previously long lost to the rapidly growing vegetation – but the very abundance of trees clinging to the ridge offered hand holds to make their way up toward the thin sliver of the mesa that sat above the jungles and green-yellow moulding massassi ruins.

They encountered little fauna as though even the animals respected this as a place of mourning.

“When they came to the village…it was scary…I didn’t understand what was happening…but I had my uncle so it was with me so it seemed everything would be all alright.”

Aresaea began as they clambered step by step along a narrow ridge overgrown with vines, her feet knowing the lay of the land so well.

Milaea made no immediate response, her role in this important task was to listen.

“I’d never seen a ship or so much metal in my life – suddenly we were surrounded by it, and goblins and trolls…with evil magic things on our necks that hurt us when we tried to take them off…gammoreans, gran…and shock collars…there was no aether we could feel away from home…just sadness…”

They leapt over a gap that had not been there when Ari left Yavin, Ari turning to catch Milaea – she did not need the assist but it was a chance to feel her warm skin.

“It’s hard to remember I was so young and I think...I know…I’ve blocked details out…”

Her brow creased trickling water from the humid air as she sized up how to climb the next section as a 258 kilo adult rather than a lithe pre-teen.

“I never made it to Nar Shadda…they – docked though I didn’t understand at the time and tried to sell me on route…my uncle wouldn’t let them take me away…he managed to get the collar off and push us into the other flying cart…there was a strange blue thing in it – an Umbaran I now know…he dominated its mind to get away I still remember what he said

“Make this cart go away from here!” he used all the strength in the aether he could to force him.

Handhold by hand hold, keeping their bodies light by reducing gravity about them with the aether they ascended.

“We didn’t understand we were in space…couldn’t comprehend how far away from home we were.  Uncle demanded a map and got a navicomputer – he’d never seen a screen before it made no sense to him so he reached out to find the strongest aetheric presence he could – he thought…

He didn’t understand that we could be so far away after only a few days…he told the Umbaran to go to where he felt the strong presence…but when we got there…”

They were getting close now, the vegetation less dense, she recognised many of the hand holds.

“Something went wrong, I don’t remember what exactly…maybe he broke out of my uncles control…Tarasen wasn’t a guardian to sustain such dominance for so long...yes I think that is what it was…and we crashed – but the planet with the strong Aether presence wasn’t home…”

She glanced toward the towering vine covered ruins in the valley below that competed with the mountains for height.

“…It was here…the crash…I remember bits…it was so hot and scary, uncle covered me with his body…but he got hurt…a piece of metal deep in his back…too deep to take out on his own…he got me out and…looked after me, worked out what was ok to eat by watching the Woolamanders...we called them Blue Gomons then…he tried…tried to make it exciting like an adventure in a strange new land…but…”

She shook her head, he could never truly convince her even at that young age everything was alright…but she loved him for trying.

“He made a small hut, worked out what animals were good to eat and how to hunt them…taught me what I needed to survive…the metal lodged in him…we finally took it out but…the microorganisms and diseases here…we were often sick but he kept on…
We tried to talk to the Massassi once…but they…well they are barely sentient now…there was a quick fight, I was terrified, but Tarasen was able to kill their Brave who approached him, snapped his neck quickly, even sick as he was, his reflexes were still good enough to strike fast and hard…thank the Goddesses that scared the others away I don’t know how long he could’ve lasted…”

Another light jump over a gap in the rock and she sampled the air, first stirring son evening breezes from the South carrying rich scents of nectars to draw out nocturnal insects.

“After that he told me to stay away from the ruins, no so much because of the Massassi who stayed away from us, but because they had dark things in them…I didn’t always listen…”

An almost wistful smile as the trail became easier for a stretch at how Tarasen would remonstrate with her about wandering off, but then still inquire what she found, like her he could not keep his curiosity in check for long.

“One day he…got really sick and didn’t get better…I tried every type of leaf and nectar we’d found with healing properties but…I think that made him – if not happy then at least hopeful…that I knew what to look for meant I would be all right on my own.”

She paused after landing from swinging from a creaking vine – the gap she had used numerous times before to escape from semi sentient Critokian’s.

“Then I was alone, I don’t really know how long…each day was just…I was so busy gathering fruits and berries, hunting…when I had enough I’d look around the ruins and…listen to the whispers…it was the only other voice…but I remembered by Uncle telling me not to trust them…”

Against she looked to the Massassi temples, only their peaks visible behind the cliffs they had scaled over the last few hours as she told Tarasens and her own tale.

“I listened but I didn’t do what they said – not all of them were bad…Naga Sadow…noticed me…but he didn’t seem to mind, I think on reflection he found it funny all his buildings ended up abandoned except for me, he’d hint he’d seen me making me afraid so I’d hide again for a few days…but he said such interesting things…I’d always come back…

Sometimes I’d try and climb up the top of the pyramids hoping I could see Mount Alixaea, or Mount Aelia in the distance…that maybe we were home after all…despite the big red moon…then Kazic came…” 

By now the vast red orange glow of Yavin was fading as the moon rotated away from facing the gas giant and the dim stars shone through.

“I only really told Saani the full story before now….I should have told it more…Tarasen deserves to be remembered and it’s my role to do that.”

Milaea had watched Ari closely as she spoke, Ari’s eyes watering and voice breaking and gluggy with tears, if Ari’s role was to tell the tale then it was hers to listen, understand and reflect on it. 

As the night drew on the moisture in the air turned from cloying with heat to prickles of ice, Ari trembling slightly as they made the final ascent – unlikely due to the temperature the pent up release of so many griefs hidden behind a buoyant and bright personality

The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows… Milaea lifted an arm but held back uncertain if it would offend her to be touched…

It was worth the risk.

As soon as her hand reach Ari’s far should she leaned straight into her for a brief pause.

Ari swallowed back her tears for the moment as they topped the mesa.

She stood in shocked stillness.

Milaea thought it at first another grief reaction but the aether told of Ari’s greater shock.

The cairn she had left so long ago was now a scattering of rocks, the starlit vantage she had placed Tarasen defiled.

Slowly, calmly Ari strode over to the empty grave site.  The thin dirt churned, the goods all gone. 

She knew, she already knew.  But she didn’t want to believe it.

On her hands and knees in a frenetic flurry Ari tore at the ground with her fingers, nails filling with dirt, rocks buffeting her skin as the medi-vac pod never to be filled jiggled on her back.

“Ari…” Milaea said leaning beside her

“No he was…”

“Ari!” she grasped at her arms but she broke free to continue the futile digging, Ari needed to do Something!

She came upon a scrap of leather as Milaea finally grasped her from the front, pinning her arms to her sides in a hug.

“He’s gone Ari…he’s gone…”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on September 28, 2020, 05:24:58 PM
This was an incredibly emotional chapter, from the highest of high to the lowest of low.  But I love the candid perspective from Ari, not only as she navigates her "new normal" but also feelings that confuse as well as elate.  And it's this kind of powerful writing that makes me re-live my love of Star Wars  :)

Another treat here is a fantastic look at pre-Cataclysm Alderaan: LSG you've emerged us with an incredible setting in perfect form, from the details of the geology, the fauna, and the artificial attractions that the beautiful planet has/had to offer... THIS is the kind of story that Disney REALLY should be giving us.

And throughout it all, the undercurrent that Ari is at odds with her own self, her hereditary culture versus her adopted.  Can she reconcile the two?  Will one take primacy, to the mutual exclusion of the other?  Or perhaps a synthesis, much like how Mili has attempted to straddle two worlds.  And speaking of Mili...

It seems that Mili has sparked a marked interest in Ari... THIS will be VERY interesting.  She's been raised by a loving relative (poor Tarasen...) and by loving adoptive parents...but can she accept the love from & for another who is not in a parental role?  Again: BRILLIANT writing LSG (excuse me for a moment, I seem to have something in my eye...)

I CAN'T WAIT TO FIND OUT!!!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 09, 2020, 03:43:13 AM
 
Chapter 17 — Ari’s Quest — Huntress — Part 1
Several Years Ago

Few things surprised him.

After centuries of…Life in one form or other it could hardly be any other way.

He had plumbed the depths of Dormuund Kaas Oceans, scaled the peaks of Teth to scour the monasteries of B’omar in search of new and better means of achieving his goals.

And so Kadmaur savoured the novelty of this find.

Scouring the Temples of Yavin they had stumbled across the cairn set atop a mesa overlooking not the nearby Ziggurats and Towers, but the jungles.

Atop the pile of stone was a long stone the width of his forearm with marble veins, carved unusually precisely to represent three female figures with linked arms in a circle all staring out, a Triquetra symbol on each.  Each of the figures represented some kind of ‘aspect’…the bare breasted one fertility, the muscular predation and prey, the svelte one with the scroll knowledge.

It was utterly incongruous with anything else on Yavin, bearing no relation to the Sith Artefacts slowly plundered over the millennia, or the degenerate Massassi cultures crude totems.

In his long experience, Kadmaur had never seen a triune feminine deity of this kind. 

Of course that alone was not enough to stimulate his sense of wonder. There were millions of backward peoples on forgotten worlds worshipping queer gods, any one of which could stumble onto Yavin.

A half dozen tattooed Wraiths carefully prepared the specimen for extraction.  It had been a scouting team lead by a Shade that had detected the anomaly on Yavin while investigating what a Vhal’Dan expedition some years past had taken…and  more importantly left behind.

Upon realising the value of the find they had immediately signalled the rest of the Revenant to attend. 

The cult waxed and waned over the centuries in number, for now it was just over two hundred in all across six main locations, Taris and the Archive of course, but a few other secluded smaller facilities to continue their studies.

The orange haze of the Gas giant lit the canopies below as he waited for them to complete their task - an almost pleasing vista compared to the brute stone on the opposite side of the mesa.  Whoever had buried the body under the cairn had appreciated the natural world far more than the Sith Temples.

Over the last few years there had been…disturbances in the Force that unsettled him…tremors neither light nor dark…but…primal…ferocious…protective…and events just as disconcerting.  The Grand Master of the Jedi on Coruscant Kimar killed in the Council chambers by, according to rumour, his chosen assassin, the Mak’tor, already reeling from the exile from Coruscant struck again by a significant loss, and tensions among the Vhal’Dan, even the Sith were rumoured had experienced some kind of…set back.

There was a thread between these events he could not quite pluck free from the tangle….of course his concern was not to intervene, only to avoid whatever agents were causing these events – that seemed to be drawn to any clustering of the Force like lighting - from disrupting his own plans.

“Master, the specimen is prepared,” the awed voice of the Shade whispered

He turned swiftly to gaze upon the blue lit transparisteel at the body within.

The corpse was male of an unknown meta-human species, fortunately by laying it to rest on the scrappy thin dirt of the Mesa it had avoided the worst the moist jungle airs from below could do to a body, but even accounting for this the preservation was astounding. 

The rot was predominantly around orifices as expected, the bones remained inhumanly strong.  Buried with a number of leather and wooden grave goods, the three feminine figures and triquetra’s, along with a three pointed star the main symbols the skin had been painted a stark red using local ochre’s that also partially preserved its turgidity, whether this was an intentional attempt at embalming he could not say.

Most clear of all was the bodies lingering presence in the force.  Given they did not know the species decomposition rate, the best estimate for how long it had lain there the latent Force presence about the body was astounding and had immediately attracted the Shade scouts attention…

Indeed, Kadmaur, mused there were some among his ‘Wraiths’ not as strong in the Force alive as this body was dead.  And the taste of it…primal, strong, vicious and protective…just like the disturbance of the last few years.

Dirt blew up and round his waist as his ship lowered to hover nearby to load the specimen as he considered how best to proceed.

“Have the body examined in full…then divided,” he ordered the Shade as he handed over the marble laced statue to him.

“The Force about this being is unusual…and I sense more easily traced by the others of this…species....”

…and I do not wish to engage them… was the ending to his unfinished sentence as his slavish followers completed their tasks.

Kadmaur did not expect the chance of anyone seeking out this body was high, the Vhal’Dan after all had come and gone less than three years before and left it, but with recent events he did not want to take the risk, and though multiple Revenant covens studying pieces of the body in isolation would mean slower progress….

He had all the time in the galaxy.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea
The shock was still raw as Ari sat knees to her chin a rug draped around her to ward off the cold.

She had lost her uncle twice.

Sofa and Valens had joined them atop the mesa as soon as they felt the wave of anguish, the Assault transport hovering nearby.

There was little to be said or done.  Valens slowly approached Ari face stern for the formal task even as his aura betrayed immense empathy.

“This was beyond your control, beyond any prediction, in consideration of that situation I relieve you of this Trial and will set anoth…”

“No,” Ari’s voice was clear and firm

“No I will fulfil my trial as it was set,”

Valens appreciated the gesture, but given the outright impossibility…

“It’s not…I can do it…” she brandished the rotten leather scrap
“I can use this to find out what happened at the very least, if it was a predator, carrion eater…or worse,”

Crouched beside her Valens paused for a moment that seemed compressed and expanded at the same time in the wake of the shocking find.

“Very well, that will be enough, do all you can for Nine days,”

By which he meant Aethan days of 43 Republic standard hours

“If you do not find the body or any trace, then your proven skills, dedication to the People, journey here, sharing Tarasens story and…enduring this horrifying grief…is already enough to affirm you a Guardian.”

Ari nodded, Milaea was still sitting with her rubbing her back gently beneath the blanket.

“Perhaps,” Sofa whispered to Valens, her relief at leaving the Massassi catacombs Valens had insisted on exploring short lived in light of the disappointment Ari now faced.

“…we should contact her parents on Galtea, have them support her,”

Valens shook his head

“Not until her trial is done…this is a matter for People alone,” he looked over to the two younger women

“Milaea will be a comfort for her, they get on very well,”

He knelt at the ground where the Cairn had been, there was no signs of disturbance anymore, the winds and rains had long since turned the site into another partly filled dent in the mesa.

Eyes firmly ahead he gazed back as much as he could seeking a fixed point of disturbance…if it were a natural removal, or even grave robber there was unlikely to be…

”hmmm…”

Even as the ship prepared to leave Kadmaur sensed a ripple about him across the fourth dimension…


“Ari…there is something here,”

<<<<>>>>

The warmth of morning wrapped her like a familiar friend.

The sounds of the jungle about her were unchanged, the rhythm in the aether a beat into which she felt she could almost step back into. 

Her small hut might still be there it was the perfect time to pick Juul berries…

Yavin had not changed but she had.  And she had a greater task to complete.

The shock and grief of the lack of discovery had worn thin over a largely sleepless night upon the mesa, a few levels of consciousness she shut down in turn for rest as she ate while Valens and Sofa maintained a vigil, Milaea never leaving her side for longer than a few minutes to obtain a drink of gormin milk for her or relieve herself.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply to re-centre she finally stood and walked toward the empty site.

“What did you sense?” she asked Valens as she knelt

“A presence…strong and focused…Tarasens body was taken with sentient, not primitive intention.”

“I will find out who,” her voice carried her conviction well.

“Flow vision can be dangerous, Milaea and I will make sure you are safe, if I say pull out you do so immediately,” Valens instructions broached no argument.

Ari nodded, Sofa, now in full armour, stood by the ships open hatch ready to evacuate them physically if needed, Gnurr and his Extolled, decorated with a few scars and trophies from Massassi they had sought out to fight patrolling the paths up the cliff.

Sitting legs crossed upon what should be a hallowed site, Ari gripped the last trace of her uncle in her hands, the aged soil damp leather scrap threatening to break under her grip.

She breathed in and pushed three levels of consciousness back

She breathed out and used the remaining three to channel the aether through her more deeply.

The abundant life of the jungle moon flowed as it ever had, as if she had never left the planet.  The blackened taint of the Sith presence lingered in the background, a source of power yes but it had its own goals making it of no use to her.

The great Green Deity of Yavin, the amalgamation of all that was native was in an grinding war of attrition against it, pulling the invading aetheric energy slowly apart just as it did the Massassi ruins with creeping vines and eroding water clogged soils.  The war was slow but the outcome inevitable.

It was to the green deity that she sought some help from, it had a rapport enough with her, it knew she was not native, but accepted that she and Tarasen had been respectful of it and were not here by choice nor violent intent.

The large multilayered nature of the deity offered its help, it had disliked something about the desecration as well.

Her mind shifted back effortlessly with the help of the planets ‘god’ its nature beyond gender.

Milaea standing to the side was transfixed by the inclusiveness of Ari’s ability to connect to the Aether.  A Jedi was taught to connect with the Light, or as Soryu more strongly taught the Living Force, Ari’s approach no doubt influenced by Vhal’Dan omni-theology was similar, but in a way deeper in its non-discrimination between light and dark.

There was a deep respect for the planet in Ari’s approach, the other People were cautious in using the aether or upsetting local ‘gods’ when they were known, but they didn’t actively try to commune with them as Ari did.

Dozens of questions and exciting thoughts filled Milaea’s mind as Ari’s delved deeper into the past.

The vast orange disc of Yavin pulled backward, light and darkness moved in reverse, trees returned to saplings, rain spiralled upward, the rotten dead picked at by carrion scavengers reanimated about her as she sought the unnatural, her technique more prolonged than Valens but more precise for it.

And it was not hard in the finding. 

He sensed it again, something was watching, whether forward or backward Kadmaur could not tell,

“Hurry fools!” he hissed in a rare display of anything other than serenity and wizened authority before his lackeys.

The last fragments of the burial were locked in sealed containers, the scouts quickly moving back as he felt the eyes upon him….

He could learn much from even this brief cross over, to flow walk any meaningful distance required mental control and an above average strength in the force, to do so across what he sensed was years required more still, and training…

A brief thought they were looking for something other than this exhumation was lost as the gaze strengthened.

He cut his presence back, trying to deny the watcher any view of him


Ari saw the ghostly…Man? vanish…he had gravitas across time, the others less so.

Eidetic memory noted every millimetre of them, the pallid skin, half healed scars pink and livid over written with arcane tattoos, well maintained but antiquated equipment.

She…yes she…was watching…his lip curled in irritation again, this body had enormous potential and risk in equal measure it seemed…

He was not at his most…refreshed as it was, he could not mask the Revenant and himself simultaneously

The last case was locked in, he leapt with spryness that defied his nominal age onto the ship, and glared at the glowing seated form of a young…

Woman seemed a misnomer, this thing was certainly not a humanoid of any kind he had seen, barely completely physical…he almost envied the native ease with which it seemed to exist in the Force…though he was well aware such an existence was equal blessing and curse.

Her head tilted toward him, expression unreadable in the glowing haze of her silhouette…but he felt even across over a decade the intent


<I will know what you are> Ari promised as she returned to the present.

<<<<>>>>

“The Jedi have no information on them, it’s been decades since they did anything to make waves…” Milaea sighed as the lines of blue scrolled past her face, the cool of the Aertemisaea’s nearby air duct blowing a strand of hair constantly across her face that seemed to Ari somewhat…cute

“Nor the Vhal’Dan…” Ari added returning to her datapad, having taken with her a full copy of Kazic’s personal archives when she left.

“Last record was actually by Arkady Kyne, the current Kage when he was Seventh Speaker…they found a small but abandoned outpost, evidence of some horrific experiments, but not enough leads to pursue any further…”

“I don’t suppose what we took from Almas Fortress had anything either?” Milaea called to Sofa at the second of nine consoles in the spacious war room behind the bridge, designed to be staffed by nine People to fight wars Ari hoped would never start.

“No…Xithar had little interest in such backward cults…”

With Ari’s description of the desecrators it had taken little time to narrow down the handful of groups known to the Jedi that attired themselves in that fashion and had a penchant for collecting dead, force sensitive bodies.  The group was known as the Revenant, a small clique that variously appeared and vanished over the decades mostly innocuous, if bizarre, but occasionally fiercely pursuing seemingly worthless relics.

“There is a place….” Valens said standing arms crossed behind them, his voice barely above a whisper

“..where Dark Jedi and other force sensitive outcasts were known to frequent, the kind of place the Revenant would recruit….”

Ari perked up immediately

“Well we should head there then, go undercover!”

Valens shared a look with Milaea that was…sad

“It’s not that easy Ari…if you want to go there you can…but…I can’t go there,” Milaea looked askance as if ashamed

“I’ll go with her,” Sofa said with firm empathy, her blue eyes fixed on her husband as Ari felt the undercurrent of a supportive nudge to both Milaea and Valens.

Ari looked around

“I don’t understand what is this place?”

Sofa sighed

“Nar Shadda,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 09, 2020, 03:45:53 AM
Chapter 17 — Ari’s Quest — Huntress — Part 2

Aresaea

(https://i.ibb.co/Jkv8tgz/Ari-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Jkv8tgz)

The smugglers moon, the Vertical city, or Littleslug Land.

Ari knew the stories, this was the place the majority of the her People had been taken after the Devastation, where they had been sold, murdered, raped, mutilated…where Valens had watched Shilea die, Jarys fought in the pits, Kiraea sold to a pervert, Milaea traumatized by seeing her mother killed while flow walking – and these were simply the horrors she knew about.

How many more had suffered here could be felt by the instant wave of despair and terror that struck her as soon as they dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the system.

Milaea visibly winced, to be in the sector was painful, to go to the surface unthinkable.

It was a shrine to the pain and suffering Outsiders had caused People, one that put Milaea on the verge of tears, Valens teeth clenched as tight as his fists barely able to stop himself grabbing the Aertemisaea’s controls off Sofa and launching Shikkar torpedoes straight at the surface

“The only time Valens will ever set foot on that moon again,” Sofa had said
“Is with his brother at the head of a legion of Sons of Kessel…and on that day I think Milaea will turn a blind eye to what they do….”

If Sofa felt the same waves of dread she didn’t show it as she set the auto pilot and nodded to Ari, the Destroyer in a fixed high orbit undetected by what passed for traffic control they headed to the hangar to take a Karintha Class Transport down,

“Ari,” Milaea said as they passed

“Be careful…but if you need help, we’ll be there,”

Ari nodded, she had no desire to make a scene, and certainly no wish to force Milaea to have to go planetside, the pain on her face was already making Ari regret coming here.

<<<<>>>>

The trip down was slow, traffic was dense and they were cloaked…and with each kilometre the anger and fear rose in her breast…needing a distraction she looked to Sofa, her raven black hair tied back in a loose pony tail as she took the ship in.

“Sofa…”

“mmm…”

“Might I ask you a personal question,”

“What?” Sofa jumped shocked

“Oh sorry I don’t mean to…”

“No you actually asked, usually Kiraea will just barge into my head…or other places…but to cover off the obvious yes cycling normally and spending quality time with Valens,”

“Oh…well that’s good…I mean…though not what I wanted to ask, not directly…but yes I suppose I learnt to be more…discreet after walking in on Saani and Kazic a few too many times…it took them along to teach me boundaries around outsider minds…”

“No doubt…” Sofa smiled “hopefully you can osmotically filter that to the others…” she kept tapping keys and adjusting the descent

“So what do you want to know?”

“You were human…but became Aethan, well partially, when Milaea healed you…then fully later…because you wanted children Kiraea says but…”

“but…”

“There must be more to it, to change yourself so much,”

“There wasn’t much choice after Milaea healed me…sometimes I wonder if Aethans can heal outsiders, or if they can only…change them”

Sofa paused reflecting

“You’re right though…there was more…” she glanced to the ships various digital clocks and timers, her voice becoming low

“When I was a child I was…abused…by a Jedi – I never trusted the Jedi to keep me safe, or being a Jedi to keep me safe. Being human, and female…is to always feel weak, afraid…under threat, sticking to well-lit areas, never going out alone, watching what you wear, carrying stun sticks…even as a Jedi….”

Ari shifted closer feeling the pain and fear Sofa held so close even against the background of the moon below…if Sofa didn’t react as strongly as the others to Nar Shadda it was perhaps because she was used to managing a weight of pain that could never be relieved.

“You come from a society where men literally worship you and lived in the more than tolerant, diversity celebrating upper class of another. I’m from one where many – not all but enough to be afraid - want to use you, pressure you, control you…even if you’re a Jedi…did you ever feel on Galtea afraid for your safety, apart from when Anson was trying to take you, worried to be alone”

Ari could only shake her head,

“No I…I never thought about it…I guess I always knew that if someone did threaten me…”

“You could blast them, or crush them because you are Aethan, a demi-God and they are not…that feeling, that safety, I never knew it until I became Aethan…not that we’re invincible but the fear is much less…I know I’m stronger and heavier than any human, or twi’lek, strong enough in the aether to keep anyone at bay…and backed up by a husband, sister, family that would stop at nothing to help me…”

Sofa turned to look at Ari expression firm.

“I’m a selfish person – proud of it – and knowing other people are weaker makes me feel safe and powerful.”

Nothing was said for quite a while as Sofa tapped keys to arrange for a pre-paid berth.

“Alright then,” Sofa finally said with a grin “Let’s get to it,”

<<<<>>>>

Holodrama’s often had such sets, grimy industrial decay populated by hunched sub-humanoids in filthy rags.

Ari had always thought that contained a large element of artistic license - until now.

Life imitated art as she kept close behind Sofa, thick treated gormin wool cloaks keeping the oil laced steam from clanking exhausts from sticking as their hands remained close to their weapons clipped to the Mark 1 Guardian Armour.

The maze of levels and alleys between the vast rotting towers was mind boggling, the state of the naked struts atrocious, the buildings seemed to stay upright from the collective belief of the denizens that they were fixtures of this world rather than static engineering.

Ari could only assume that the depredation was due to the absence, or suppression of local gods combined with vast numbers of not native inhabitants, even the Hutt gods Evona and Ardos were said to have been destroyed with the Hutt birth world of Varl…a fact that explained much she thought about Hutt culture as it currently existed.

Eyes were constantly on them as they passed, a few lingered, but the determined stride and cowled appearance kept them from being harassed as Sofa lead the way down, down then finally up to a shabby dark stair well, a spider like Harch, six hairy limbs a grime smeared grey rather than pale, sitting on a chair beside it.

Sofa stooped toward the creatures its six red eyes trying to get a fix on her,

“Tell Stark the hottest ass in the Order wants to talk,”

The creature grunted, chelicerae beside its mouth twitching

“’aint the password,” was the growling response

“Never said it was just tell him,” Sofa pressed.

<You’ve been here before?> Ari inquired
<A few times, when I was out on my own missions before I started training Milaea>

The Harch grunted and tapped quickly with one hand on a wrist data-slate, the other four arms twitching near folds in its baggy clothes that no doubt concealed an array of weapons.

A TT-6B Gate keeper droid poked out for a few seconds from the door frame around the stairs, Sofa looked straight into it.

“Hurry up Stark,”

The droid vanished back just as quick,

“Let them in,” A comm in the Harch auditory canal signalled, Aethan hearing more than able to pick it up before the Harch even passed it along,

“You in, no trouble but,”

“No just the best Butt,” Sofa sneered.

<<<<>>>>

Much like the streets the bar looked straight out of a holodrama, low lighting, shadowy hunched figures sipping beverages that bubbles or leached clouds of ammonia.

At the main bar was a haggard looking main with a dark beard flecked with grey.

“Been a long time S,” he said not looking up from cleaning a glass with a dishrag that needed to be washed months ago.

“So I long I heard you were dead a few years back, something ‘bout Ord Mirit and such…”

“Let’s say I was born again, nothing in the galaxy can kill this perky arse,”

“True dat,” ‘Stark’, or so Ari assumed it must be, spoke with a guttural street accent, and like the other beings here had a touch of the aether about him.

“So Chume-Crème for you and what about our friend?” he took out two bottles one of golden syrup one of a milky liquid and started mixing

“I’m guessing that ain’t O under that cloak, wouldn’t fit…”

<’O’?>

<Former Sentinel Oma, I was with her last time, on the hunt for a particularly nasty dark Jedi, it was that missions bloody end that drew Yshrrk to recruit her into the Sentinels>

It was easy Ari realised to forget Sofa had a life before joining the Aethans, or even being fully together with Valens.

“Just a water…” Ari said calmly taking in her surrounds, tasting the eddies of the aether now and in the past…and future…

<This place...it’s a haven, a refuge for Aether users of all kinds…a neutral ground of sorts…>

<Neutral enough> Sofa explained as Stark offered them seats at the bar
<Stark won’t allow any funny business inside, most people respect that>

<And the ones that don’t aren’t seen again I’m guessing?>

<Sharp girl> Sofa smiled <But information, rumours and the like trade freely here, and you need to be careful after you leave who might be following>

“Just stopping by S or here looking for someone?” Stark said the internal conversation not even a beat missed to his point of view

“Bit of both, you haven’t seen or heard about any tattooed goons about the place, pallid look, a bit gaunt?”

“Eghhh…” he scratched his long slightly greasy hair
“You know it’s been so long I can’t remember just how great that arse of yours is…”

Sofa slid her left hand palm down across the table, her right taking a sip of the Chume-Crème

<Aethan digestion…nothing gets through it> Sofa inwardly sighed at her inability to experience any effects from alcohol.

“Perhaps this will remind you.”

Stark swiped the credit chit so fast in fact Ari couldn’t make out its value.

“Couple o’ guys around here every few months, hand out these little books…” he turned to rummage beneath the counter before presenting a yellowed pamphlet in archaic looking Areu-besh

Youth. Strength. Eternity. Truth. was the heading before a confused jumbling tract of ecstatic zealous preaching both Aethan women read in milliseconds along with an Invitation to Find out More at Eternity Fane.

“Some people down on their luck take ‘em up, most don’t,”

“You let them proselytize?” Ari asked an incredulous eyebrow raised as she took command of the situation, this was her trial after all.

“They don’t call down brimstone, just gently hand out their books talk to anyone in their cups, and they pay upfront rather than have a tab, no complaints,” Stark explained as he presented a cup of what could only be called ‘water’ by Nar Shadda standards.

“Where can we find these preachers…apart from their little ‘Fane’”

“I don’t ask those kind of questions miss…?”

“Miss Terry,” Ari replied in the spirit of the anonymity of this place

“Ha, fair enough, wait long enough they’ll show up I suppose, always eager to chat,”

Ari considered her options, and focused one level of thought on the pamphlet…with no guarantees when they might return…she might just be able to use that…

“You know S I saw a zine the other week, a bunch of loose perky girls, The Arts of Aphrea or some such, one had an arse just as cute as yours…thought for a moment it was you but couldn’t be could it?”

“You never know Stark, living by my own rules now,” she gulped down the last of the cocktail

<Have enough> Sofa asked

<I think so, let’s head off>

“We’ll catch you later Stark,” Ari concluded her ‘water’ untouched

“Any time Mystery Girl, hey S keep that butt waggling,”

<Sofa…I know its personal but how does he know…I mean did you and Stark…>

<He wishes - hidden camera’s in the refresher, and rooms he lets…>

Sofa shook her head as they headed back up the stairs

<That’s the way this galaxy is>

<<<<>>>>

The pamphlet in her hand, Ari combined aspects of flow walking and psychometry as Kiraea had taught to track the source.  While it did list the times and location to ‘Learn more about achieving eternity by instinct Ari felt a more indirect approach would be better.

The pamphlet was not especially deep in ‘memory’, a throw away rather than valued object, but fortunately it had been passed through only two sets of hands, the printer and Stark.

In the hollow of a graffiti scrawled I beam Ari’s sought the printers location as Sofa kept a look out.

<A small apartment, stinking of ink, crowded by boxes, fanaticism wearing down amidst the drudgery of acting as a shipping hub…staff cycled through…>

She had the location, she just needed a deeper sense of its relative position…

“…keep moving…” she heard on the outer of her awareness as he minds sped through the streets up canyons of steel and cliffs of duracrete.

“…told you once….” 

Up several levels, then across further toward the moons equator….

TCCCZZZZZUUUM

The saber igniting forced Ari to pull two levels of thought from her search, four more kept the thread together.

The guardian blue cast ugly shadows through the alley as Sofa’s ploy failed.

The overly muscled hyper-stimm gangers took the glowing weapon as a challenge rather than deterrent...

“Stun stick” one grogged with a belly laugh with a voice unnaturally deep as it was tall, rough slabs of metal serving as armour, the red either blood or old paint.

His ignorance was soon dispelled as Sofa whirled through the eight of them with a unique Niman style. Ari was no stranger to the style, Kazic and his master Stryka Annix had been hard fought experts, Sofa’s technique shared a common base, but had smooth and calm to it, not doubt owing to Soryu’s influence.

“Wai…” even in the half second Ari spoke it was too late to stop the slaughter.  The cocktail of drugs pumping from small filthy units on the gangers backs was not enough to match the strength and speed of a trained Aethan. In less than three seconds they were a pile of cauterized limbs and crushed throats gagging on their own blood before their head’s were severed.

Ari looked wide eyed at Sofa as she shut off her sabre.

“What happened, you didn’t’ have to kill them…surely a mind trick…”

Sofa merely shrugged

“I’m not gonna leave them to rape and pillage another day,”

Sofa pushed one still twitching body over with her foot sensing Ari’s inability to reconcile the dismissive slaughter with Sofa’s Jedi background.

“There’s not enough resources, time or will in the galaxy to rehabilitate scum like this…” Sofa sneered before very deliberately stepping on the bodies. 

“The Jedi are always split between trying to save everyone like Soryu or purging like Oma…tears them apart time and again through history…and much as I consider Soryu my father…”

She began heading off idly leaving the dead like so much refuse

“You can see which side I fall on,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 09, 2020, 03:46:37 AM
Chapter 17 — Ari’s Quest — Huntress — Part 3
Aresaea

“huh…” Sofa chuckled as they caught sight of the apartment Ari had seen in her psychometirc vision, located in an above average socioeconomic zone, the floors of the vast skyscraper were worn but not filthy, small mid-priced rectangular cleaning droids flitting about as clean dressed sentients going to and fro from administrative positions as accountants, analysts, stock traders and import/export workers – the white collar class of Nar Shadda.

“There’s an old Jedi riddle of sorts they ask padawans. You come across a locked door barring your path, do you a) knock it down b) slice the lock or c) knock…it’s meant to see whether you’re more akin to a Jedi Guardian, Sentinel or Consular respectively, though they don’t really use those classifications any more, I suppose the question is traditional so they keep it…anyway which way do you want to handle this,”

“I think it is a false dilemma to limit options to three,” Ari replied “in this case, I say we wait and watch, see who comes and who goes, and where,”

“Different approach…” Sofa noted although Ari couldn’t read whether it was approvingly or not.

Suppressing their presence across every detectable spectrum they found a small alcove for a cleaning droid recharge station to stake out the apartment.

<My husband and his sister would’ve broken in, knifed then mind ripped whoever came in….> Sofa noted as the first hour passed
<It seems the Vhal’dan instilled a more cautious approach, are they typically more…discrete?>

<Somewhat, it really depends on the individual, Saani is, Kazic less so…the Vhal’Dan have heavies, shadows, Sentinels…a mix really,>

<Much like the Jedi, though the Gray orders seem more pragmatic allowing people to be who they are, and be with who they want to be with…>

The venom in Sofa’s thoughts for her former Order was not concealed.

<It always seemed strange to me the Temple Jedi frown upon relationships> Ari agreed
<supressing such desires seems more dangerous than permitting them…>

<Another rule I could never obey,> Sofa noted

<I heard Kimar was very strict…> Ari offered <…was that part of why you left?>

Sofa pursed her lips, Ari could sense a well of darker inflections the older woman wished to keep from bubbling up making Ari fear she had overstepped unwittingly.

<I learned from a very young age, too young, how soiled and hypocritical the Jedi Order is, how much poison lurks within it…> Sofa suddenly said picking up on Ari’s concern

<There are some who try hard to be what their legend says they are, noble, brave, selfless…Soryu, Gurrlum, a handful of others, Yshrrk is almost a full badged Gray Jedi, even Yoda in a way…by and large it isn’t what it pretends to be…I never worried about breaking rules they didn’t keep themselves, and certainly don’t miss pretending too.>

<Sounds very stressful…>

<Bizarre - everyone knows that no one toes the line, but they all pretend to, it creates a culture of cover ups, blackmail and abuse…> Sofa’s telepathic ‘voice’ was laced with spite

<Even the great Orthodox reformer Kimar used Valens to assassinate the more unorthodox, and the worst scum the Order hid once they were brought to light…>

<So there was a purge? There were rumours of one on Galtea…I didn’t realise Valens was involved while pretending to be a Jedi…>  Ari realised it explained Valens startling expertise in defeating Jedi trained opponents – he had extensive practice.

<It was more complex…some of the targets deserved far worse than the mercy of being beaten to death by Valens…others far better…of course he didn’t care, they’re all outsiders…looks like someone’s coming…>

The conversation ended leaving Ari somewhat uncertain about how Sofa felt about the Jedi, the older woman was frankly of mixed opinion herself. 

In truth it had more to do with Ari, the more time she spent with her People, the more her perspectives concerning her adoptive family and the Vhal’Dan were changing, differences became more apparent, and things she had once thought good and ill about the Gray order switched round…

Ari had hoped Sofa’s experience might help resolve things, instead it seemed a split opinion was the norm…perhaps Milaea might be more resolute.

For now she watched as two humanoids in thick robes approached the apartment, a small hover sled with boxes behind them, her perceptive abilities keener than ever from training with Kiraea and Jarys soon discerned the key combination and the telekinetic deadbolt they used to open the room.

She sensed little of note from these two, aura’s neither concealed nor expansive – perhaps above average aetheric potential, but not enough to be a teidowan - though they might be using advanced concealment techniques.

Sofa tapped her HUD scanners
<Nothing of interest in the boxes…no power sources or heat…>

They waited another hour before the two left again, once they sensed they were out the building Ari moved swiftly, keying in the code and unlocking.

The inside was full of boxes with cheap flimsy receipts and packing slips, a number of the pamphlets in a box by a desk with an old holo-desktop.

<I’ll crack the computer, you scan the room?> Sofa suggested
<Agreed>

Delicately and swiftly she looked into the boxes, many were full of spare parts, converters, dehydrated meals, cloths, medical equipment, the receipts showed they were imported from all across Hutt and Republic space, often lower to mid-tier priced items. 

A number had been reboxed into ‘supply’ kits under flimsy stuck to the wall with what must be coded names  - ‘Scion’, ‘Touchstone’, ‘Byblos’, ‘Paladin’, ‘Ziggurat’.

<It’s a small scale logistics hub, they buy, repackage then distribute…> Ari surmised

<Lots of Holo-shopping…> Sofa confirmed the Chiss military grade slicer making easy work of the firewalls, Cheunh based coding would leave, even if the breach was detected, only garbled incomprehensible half pixelated results.

<financial records, working on a budget, and…here we are…monthly payments for a small mid-level docking port, keyed to five ships…> she shared her HUD view with Ari in a corner view.

It was immediately obvious each of the five ships corresponded to a different coded name as a resupply ship, the dock records showed each of the five consistently took on the same level of coaxium resupply indicating they made the same runs repeatedly.  They were not trying to conceal their operation, perhaps as ostensibly nothing untoward was occurring, or their resources were focused elsewhere.

<We just need to know which one Tarasen was taken to…if any…>

She began looking through the boxes for each code searching for…for anything that might be needed to…

To do what? She had no idea what they wanted with her uncle’s body…though based on experience she could guess…Aethan healing and genetics would be of great interest to a sect focused on achieving immortality.

<Here…for Touchstone – temperature regulators, medical centrifuges, intravenous tubes, cyrostatic fluids, agar for petri dishes…the kind of things you would need if you had a body in semi-suspended animation…does the computer tell us where each of these ships actually goes to>

<No…I doubt they even know…> Sofa determined

Ari nodded that made sense, it was a basic level of secrecy between cells for security.

<Looks like we will have to visit the docks…>

<<<<>>>>

<Was it difficult leaving the Jedi, when it was all the life you had known?> Ari asked as they wandered through the scruffy pedestrian bridges, an Aetheric Aura of Aversion about them to detract attention by ‘sliding’ beings senses away from noticing them, a method used by Snow-Beak Avaians to avoid Snow-Hawks preying on their mountain nests.

<You seem very inquisitive about that?> Sofa noted but with a mental smile
<Feeling homesick?>

Ari’s pace waddled slightly with discomfort.

<Not homesick so much as…feeling like maybe the home I had wasn’t the home I thought it was in the first place…>

Sofa, perhaps more than any of the other Aethans could understood Ari;s perspective.

<New life is changing how you think about your old one?>
<Yes, exactly like that…I didn’t realise it would be this…confusing…>

<More than when you left Aethas or Yavin>

<Yes…leaving Aethas wasn’t by choice of course, and Yavin was similar in some ways in how I lived with Uncle Tarasen…leaving Yavin I was going from being alone to having friends, family so I didn’t feel like I was losing anything, just gaining…>

<And now is different,> Sofa deduced <You’ve lost one family, or traded them for another…but more than that you’re wondering which home is really yours where you fit,>

Ari could only nod at the older woman’s accurate explanation of her feelings.

<Like I said by the time I left, I’d long since lost most of any sense of family or friendships among the Jedi, Soryu, Milaea and Valens were already my family and I still have two out of three…plus a whole new family to boot…some I wish I could boot every now and then…>

Ari smiled as Sofa openly imagined her kicking Kiraea in the rear after another annoying bout of extremely personal – by Outsider standards – questions.

<I was ready to leave long before I did, had my illusions shattered and disappointed time and again…and I think that is what you’re really confused about Ari…>

<What do you mean?>

<You were on Galtea living peacefully, if somewhat restricted for a long time, Saani kept you sheltered from the suspicions of Anson, right up until that last moment, now you’re looking back seeing those imperfections, and wondering if this…>

She gestured to the unappealing surrounds and the situation in general
<Is any better…>

The question was left hanging as they waited for a Turbolift to the vast docking tower the Revenant computer had receipts from.

<I can only speak for myself…> Sofa said as the door opened
<For me this is better, I still miss the idea of the Jedi, being about something more something noble and great, but not the disingenuous reality, here I get to be a living Goddess and indulge any whim…plus I never get fat no matter how much I eat>

The honest selfishness of Sofa was refreshing, Ari would’ve liked to ask Saani what she thought of such a philosophy.

<I miss the idea of the Vhal’dan as an inclusive society…> Ari replied finally zeroing in on the source of her dissonance

<That I could be accepted without suspicion…I miss the dream that I’d be reunited with all my family and friends who had somehow escaped, my uncle even, that somehow it would all be alright…> the turbo lifted rose with jolts and spasms till it reached a smooth section.

<I miss having my mother, my father to turn to, to guide me…the feeling I’m on my own in this…> Ari explained as they clanking lift hiccupped upward.

<No…not alone, but the one who has to make the decisions -  so much of my life has happened to me…being taken from Aethas, taken from Yavin, taken from Galtea…I could’ve turned away from this search, finished my training with a word...I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, where It will lead…>

The doors clanked open to a broad quiet concourse peppered by loading droids and weary travellers.

<It’s all my choice this time…>

<<<<>>>>

Security at Nar Shadda ports was non-existent – unlike Galtea where travellers were scrutinised, issued permits and given bio scans for infectious diseases, here people came and went as they please, ports like this were purely parking areas for anyone with the credits to pay for a place.

It made it more difficult to track where ships had arrived from as no records were kept, denying Ari a chance to try out the various Chiss slicers she had packed.

Instead she focused on the workers, a curmudgeonly bunch of Ugnauts, Utai, and a dozen other species typically shorter in stature who busied themselves venting gas and patching the more obvious atmosphere leaks while selling overpriced, but decent quality coaxium.

It took a few hours in the vast 500 level facility to find the particular staff who worked on the Revenant bay and that unfortunately yielded little result.

<Nothing…> Ari sighed behind a corner while she gently probed the mind of a cantankerous Utai wrestling with tangled cables beneath a Zygerian Chaser.

<They just do the basic checks then leave, don’t ask any questions and don’t pay attention so long as they pay the bills>

<Who’d have thought honour among thieves…> Sofa breathed out equally exasperated

<And there are is no central traffic control on Nar Shadda…> what the mechanics did know could’ve helped, with knowledge of how much coaxium was refuelled and the type of ship Ari might’ve been able to narrow the field of possible locations the Revenant ships had come from. 

Of course even that was little help, as they likely made multiple stops on each supply run.

Her brow furrowed beneath her helmet as she tried to work out another way to get the information she needed without the risk of alerting the Revenant by interacting with them.

She could try flow walking in the hangar, hoping to pick up someone saying the name of the destination, but the aether on Nar Shadda was grubby at best and didn’t hold memories well, only emotionally powerful events tended to leave noticeable marks anyway.

She could wait until the Revenant ship returned form the next supply run…but that could be months for all she knew.

Frustration that she had reached a dead end began to itch, the pressing oily tar feel of the Aether on Nar Shadda was suffocating after so many hours.  She wished she could ask Kazic or Saani what to do form here…

Perhaps she had tried to be too much like them though, attempting to skirt around the edges and use stealth to…a more direct approach might have saved her time.

In her robe pocket was the pamphlet, the directions to the ‘Eternity Fane’ and times it was open in weary black print.

<Perhaps I should just knock…>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 09, 2020, 03:49:25 AM
Chapter 17 — Ari’s Quest — Huntress — Part 4
Aresaea
The Eternity Fane was located in a vast courtyard overseen by looming apartments and towers that seemed poised to collapse their full 400 stories down upon them at any moment.

Like so much of Nar Shadda it was grimy and unkempt, but this particular area was a religious zone of sorts, with various small churches, temples, shrines ensconced into the sides of buildings.

Naturally such an area attracted a vast array of beggars looking for handouts from whatever spiritual organisation would provide it.

Wrapped in a modified Affect Mind aura that diverted attention away from them, Ari and Sofa created a moving bubble of avoidance that sent attention anywhere except toward them.

The Eternity Fane was not what she expected from the Revenant based on their reputation.

A number of cheap worn fold out beds were cluttered outside and deep into a long orange lit central Nave, more she could spy in the partially sectioned off side naves. 
Upon each were coughing, bleeding or otherwise damaged sentients being attended to by clean shaven acolytes in tattered robes, runic tattoos from the bottom of their eyes curling down onto their necks and presumably onto their torso’s below.

There were only three of them, rushing to and from each of the patients as even more tugged at them demanding help.

<That is….odd…> Sofa noted

For a brief moment Ari feared she had wasted her time completely and these were not the Revenant at all, but as she cautiously slid in closer her genetically engineered eyesight picked up the exact words of the tattoo’s which matched precisely to those in Arkady Cyne and Master Gurrlum’s archived reports in font, dialect and context – though these appeared to be among the first tattoo’s received making these as junior acolytes.

<Have a look around> Ari asked Sofa taking charge once more
<I’ll talk to them>

With a nod Sofa deepened her suppression and slipped invisibly among into the Fane as Ari relaxed her avoidance measures zeroing in on each of the monks, determining that the young human male would be the easiest one to ply for intelligence.  If nothing else she could use her physical appearance which many humanoid species found quite pleasing.

Picking up a half used roll of bandages she began attending to one of the nearby beggars, patching the open sores and wounds as best she could.

Moving patient by patient closer to the young bald man, beginning to sense as he administered what basic treatments he could he was sending out a gentle healing flow in the aether – it was not large, but enough to provide some pain relief.

“Oh, thank you…” he said looking toward her as she bandaged an Aqualish arm who grunted in thanks.

“My pleasure…is it always so busy?” she added levity to her voice

“Ha, this is quiet, the need here is endless, we do what we can…what brings you here,”

The grunting aquatic creature nodding thanks she produced the pamphlet from her pocket,

“I was given this…thought I would look into it,”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, ummm…the Prior is usually here to talk with those interested in pursuing the path of Eternal life…”

“Why don’t you tell me?” she smiled to build rapport

“PLEEEASE!!!” a shriek interrupted the young mas reply as a wretched looking zeltron woman rushed up hair rank and oily as the rags in which she carried a flopping child coloured the same muddy brown as her own skin.

“He fell onto the mag rail….”

“Here on the gurney,” the young man unrepentantly shoved a haggard but otherwise fine looking gotal off the stained bed, a rapid triage process that left the furred creature curmudgeonly but unharmed, and little cause to complain having already received free anti-biotics.

The woman lay the child down, it was like a warbling doll of se kind, unresponsive apart from occasional ticks as the bald acolyte began initial checks for eye activity and heart rate.

With practised motion he drew small paddles from his pack and pressed them to the boys chest.  With a gurgle the body jolted upward…then again…then again…but the eyes remained lifeless..

The acolyte poured what comparatively meagre healing ability he had in, his eyes truing ever more red and blood shot from the effort.

Ari could feel the genuine concern the acolyte had, the desire to preserve, life, every life.

“Here let me,” she gently moved him aside placing her own hands above the boy, the Acolyte staring at the abyssal black of her armoured gloves.

An instant later his attention turned to the red fire flowing from her finger tips – pure energy Ari drew from the Aether entering the boys body – the damage was extensive but it was in critical areas, she sewed muscle, connected neurons, stymie internal burns, all the while observing peripherally the look of awe on the acolytes faces.

Finally done the boy gasped for breath as his tearful mother wept and all but worshipped at Ari’s feet, a troubling feeling for power flooding her despite the effort.  Such precision shatter point healing was trivial to Ari, yet well beyond the ability the vast majority of beings, putting her above them, figuratively and now literally as the beggars and vagabonds cowered around her.

“You…you have the Gift….” The Acolyte said with untempered awe,

“The gift of Life…of eternity….Blessed be the Master you have come here to join us!”

“I…just came here to learn about you…” Ari quickly dampened his eagerness as the throng about her grew jostling and demanding she turn her supernatural powers to heal them,

“Back leave the Gifted one be!” an elderly female Acolyte with a nurses stern countenance ordered pushing against the increasingly desperate and violent beggars.

“Yes of course,” the Shaven man said quickly, “We can speak more in the Fane’s Seclusiam…”

“Actually I’d rather speak somewhere else…I have to go…you know Stark’s?”
The desperation and hope emanating off the crowd, the possessive need to acquire the healing she had just provided to another for themselves was becoming overwhelming to her, flooding the aether with ugly aggravation.

An aggravation she had caused.

“I…yes of course,”

“Later tonight then,”  Ari said quickly already cloaking herself in her Affect Mind technique to divert the beggars attention and slip away.

She had healed a boy, saved his life she reflected sliding away from the religious courtyard Sofa not far behind.

But why…to manipulate a young Acolyte into trusting her and giving up the information she wanted.

And with what effect – impoverished beings fanatically desire her help enough to kill each other to attain it.

For a brief moment she felt a pang of uncertainty, as if breaking into apartments, skimming minds, healing children to ingratiate with a cult might be…wrong somehow…

Reaffirming her focus with her steps on the ancient durasteel she continued on.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 09, 2020, 04:03:29 AM
 
Chapter 17 — Ari’s Quest — Huntress — Part 5
Sofa
(https://i.ibb.co/6HH8Y1T/Sofa-R1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/6HH8Y1T)
“So what is the plan?” Sofa asked half sitting on the clean, but structurally weak bed, incapable of taking an Aethans full weight.

Returning to Stark’s had been quiet.  While Ari impressed the Revenant Acolytes Sofa had found something in the back of the Fane down some steps and past a hidden wall that could only be opened with a telekinetic latch.

Something she felt it best to allow Ari to discover for herself.  Sofa was not fully up on all the rules about Trials and Guardian training, it was…idiosyncratic at best…but she felt she should leave this one thing for her.

“I talk to the Acolyte and loosen his tongue as Kazic says…” 

In her hand were a number of small pills purchased off Stark to add to the Acolytes drink when he arrived, any one of which would be enough to make a Yinchorri sing like a Sullustan.

Ari placed her helmet against the wall over one of the four peep holes they had found no doubt to Starks irritation.

“And then?”

“Either we have our destination or I move up to the Prior of the Fane…”

Sofa had to admire her persistence in going for a ‘low impact’ approach to finding what she needed, even after a number of set backs.

“I just hope these are the same Revenant as the ones that took my uncle…the information in the apartment seems incongruous with their activities at the fane healing those beggars…”

“You think they could be different sects?”

“Possibly, but…maybe we have it wrong…maybe the Revenant are not an antagonistic cult after all, perhaps we can reason with them,”

“You’re more hopeful than Milaea!” Sofa laughed, in many ways to hide giving a hint at the truth she had uncovered.

“They don’t seem antagonistic, dedicated to their cause yes but not intentionally evil, they may have changed in the near 40 years since Arkady Cyne reported on them, or be an offshoot focused only on achieving immortality by developing better and better healing methods,”

“All groups like that hide dirty secrets, and no organisation or sect stays clean for long, the road to Hades begins on the Path of good intentions,” Sofa cautioned the younger woman.

Of course Sofa could not deny her own bias against any form of religious, military or other institution, but that didn’t invalidate her point.

The words stuck with Ari’s brow creased ever so slightly in contemplation. She wanted to believe the best, see the best, but already was seeing the darker sides of those things she was a part of in the Vhal’dan and the People, something Sofa had no desire to discourage – it was a hard lesson, that in the end no group however welcoming they seemed could be trusted, but the younger woman needed to take the lesson in rather than just skirting the edges as she currently was.

“I will consider what you’ve said…and….” She looked back toward her

“Thank you Sofa for helping me,”

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

The Acolyte was already waiting when she headed upstairs to the bar, eyes eager as his bald head shone in the yellow lights.

The large room was sparsely populated but still he waved his hand as if signalling across a mosh pit. 

“I’m so happy to see you again!” he beamed, but the smile that creased the tattoo’s below his eyes only made him less appealing to her.

“I told the Prior of your Gift, he was most impressed…here…” he produced a small booklet, one of dozens she had seen in the apartment outlining their philosophy.

“This may interest you, oh, how foolish, I’m Brother Nardon of the Eternal Family, and I can’t quite remember what you said your name was,”

Because I never gave it Ari mused

“Sheena,” she lied without missing a beat, “how about a drink while we talk?”

“Sheena, what a lovely name, and yes, just a Jool-Berry juice,”

Summoning Stark she placed her order, aiming to establish rapport she mirrored his forward leaning body language, the smell of his clothes and nervous sweat irritating her senses…she hadn’t been close to an outsider in so long, had forgotten how offensive their scent could be….

“So tell me about how you joined the Eternal Family,”

Ari added a certain loosening of the aether about the young man, not a direct mind control just calm and relaxation.

“Oh me…well not much to tell, I was born on a small agri-world but was always…always different…I had the Gift of course but it felt like a curse…strange things would happen, objects moving and the like when I was angry…it made the others in the commune afraid,”

“You felt you didn’t belong?”

“No…rather they felt I didn’t belong,” he replied sadly

Ari could empathize, a feeling she flowed to flow in the aether, her emotional strength spurring him to more detail.

“As I got older I learned on my own how to control it a little, how to make the Kaadu listen to my mind, I found work as a keeper, it was easier working with the animals, they didn’t stare or avoid me…eventually a passing Preacher noted me, told me about the Family, that what I’d always considered a curse was in fact a Gift, and a great Master could help me use it to heal others…”

The drinks arrived as Nardon leaned ever closer drawn in by the genuine empathy Ari felt for him.

“There wasn’t much to look forward to on the Kaadu ranch so I left with him, we stopped at a few planets…it was amazing I’d never been off world before, then came here where I saw the need, the good work being done and joined the Family fully,”

“Yes their work, helping the poor, what other work does the Family do,” she probed as Stark arrived with the drinks.

“Oh mostly research, you see the Family…we believe that life…life by its nature wants to perpetuate itself, to endure for all time, it’s only by accident of mechanical injury or negative interaction with other life that causes it to end…”

“What about ageing,” she asked her eyes locking his, incapable of observing her super human reflexes dash the ground up pill into his drink.

“Again mechanistic defect in replication of cells…something to repair or avoid, to promote life every way we can by offering free healing and care, and researching new ways to use our Gift to do the same…and your Gift is truly remarkable, how long have you had these amazing abilities,”

He lifted his glass to drink as she replied, the tasteless chemicals would take effect in mere minutes.

“Oh, not much to tell either, I came about them like you when I was young, I had to move place to place though, just like you people were afraid, not because of what I had done, but what they thought I might do…who they thought I was…I’ve never found a place where I can just…”

The words she spoke were all too true, the Vhal’Dan not trusted her - not for anything she had done but what they feared she was, a spy, a saboteur.  She used that emotion as a Guardian should to expedite the outcome she needed, sharing her sense of dislocation through the aether with the Acolyte as he blinked wetly the pills taking effect.

“Just be…a place I truly belong…”

A place she had not found yet.

“The Family welcomes everyone, all of us who were cast out, feared, loathed…Sheena, you could do amazing things, help so many and find yourself, the things I’ve seen done…”

“What did you see,” She pressed as she felt his aura waver into a drug induced warm pool of relaxed openness

“Men, women raised form the dead, any injury you can imagine repaired, the Master…I only saw him once…but the Master…he’s beyond this Life, and he can guide us all into Eternity…”

“Where did you see these things and meet the Master, on Nar Shadda,”

“Taris…”

Taris…. quick mental computations based on the amount of coaxium refuelled by the ships that used Nar Shadda as a hub ruled out that world as the location of where they were shipping their goods too.

“Where else, where else do the Family operate?”

“Here, Taris…other places, Touchstone, Scion…”

“Where is Touchstone?”

“I don’t know, they never tell me anything…” Nardon sighed oblivious to the fact the conversation had turned o interrogation, Ari not truly noticing how quickly she shifted in tone to get what she wanted.

“…I should be promoted, they say I’m not strong enough, but I’ve gotten better how am I meant to get stronger if they won’t show me more…I bring in so many worhsippers…”

“Who do you bring them to?”

“The Prior, I mean I reckon, if I can bring you, they’ll send you to Scion or Touchstone for sure, and you could…” he reached out to try and grab her hand

“You could demand they take me with you, we could go together away from here, to join the Masters great works,”

“Yes…we will…” she took his hand lightly
“We will speak to the Prior together,”

<<<<>>>>
<He seems genuine> Ari noted as she prepared to head off with the slightly groggy Nardon.

<A bit jaded in being passed over for promotion genuinely looks to help people, I think this revenant sect might be a charity>

<Based on one good egg?> Sofa queried keeping back so as to not interfere in Ari’s task but remain close enough to assist if needed.

<An organisation is the sum of its members,> Ari replied as they headed out into the alley the Harch still sentinel in front of Starks place snoring loudly.

<In a way, but it develops a life of its own, mob mentality that members are shaped by, making them devoted against their better judgement, they either drink the coolant and indulge in the depravities or blissfully ignore them cause their doing ‘good’ overall>

The poison Sofa felt toward the Jedi, which was clearly the example, as Ari smiled to the slowly swaying Nardon, but there was still truth in what she said.

Perhaps Ari wanted to believe one group could genuinely stand for something without compromising itself because she was becoming disillusioned with the Vhal’Dan and the People all at once.

The former made a great show of spreading justice and protecting others, yet fell into Anson’s paranoia when vague threats appeared.  The latter didn’t pretend to be anything other than utterly selfish and remorseless, and this was the group she was indelibly a part of.

Perhaps she hoped if the Revenant had been redeemed…

“A…accchhhkkk…” spluttering from the edges of the dimly lit corridor between vast skyscrapers broke her train of thought, she berated herself for not being focused on the here and now.

“Oh…are you sick…” Nardon strode toward the coughing sound with all the caution a drug addled human could.

“I think I have some inflammation suppressors and Multipathogen-Anti-virals,” his hands clambered in his robes looking for the pills as Ari’s tingled to pull her sabers at the potential threat.

Eyes quickly adjusting she made out a scruffy looking Tof, visibly ill his green skin pallid with black splotches.

Finding the pills Nardon jingled a few into the hair covered palm of the bulky humanoid, then provided one of the innumerable pamphlets directing him to the Eternity Fane for further treatment.

Stumbling back over to her Ari stared at the Tof gulping down the pills with water pooled in a pot hole in the ferrocrete.  Nardon’s reaction to the cough had been to try and help the sick, Ari’s to reach for her weapons.  Arguably hers was the wiser course given the location, but still…

Perhaps Sofa was right, an individual did become more like the tribe they were part of for better and worse.

<<<<<>>>>

“Wonderful new Prior!” Nardon beamed the short trip on a mag rail to the Fane having cleared his head, and Ari’s indulging of his fantasies strengthening his conviction she was going to join them.   

The elderly man, face fully covered in tattoo almost lost against ebony skin at the far end of the still crowded fane sighed exhaustedly,

“What is it Acolyte Nardon,”

“This is the Woman with the great Gift I spoke of, she wishes to join us and help with the Great work,”

“Does she…” he stood from his small desk genuine interest in his voice.

“I am Prior Ybuun of the Eternal Family…Nardon attend to your duties I will speak to…”

“Sheena,” Nardon answered for her trying to keep himself in the conversation even as he realised he was not surplus to both their needs.

“I will speak to Sheena privately,”

With a glum nod of obedience Nardon complied and Ybuun lead Ari to a small room closing the thick durasteel door.

“You have impressive abilities I hear…abilities that require training and practise…please sit,”

She took one of the two chairs in the cramped office replete with copies of their abundant pamphlets and booklets.

“So tell me where did you learn to use the Gift?”

“My older sister was a priestess of our village, a healer, she taught me, but the Jedi did not take kindly to her arts…”

The best lies are the truth Ari recalled using the very real facts that her adoptive older sister Kiraea had taught her more advanced shatterpoint healing, was the Peoples de facto priestess and the Jedi certainly did not take kindly to her at all to ensure the Prior sensed no deception.

It succeeded as the Prior nodded understanding.

“Many of our new acolytes have had similar experiences in recent years…Jedi Dogmatic Orthodoxy causing them to flee their worlds or supress their traditions of Force use, more than a few have come here,”

No doubt he was aware of Kimar’s Orthodox revival, snuffed by Valens blade, though that latter fact the Prior was likely unaware of given the distance from Coruscant.

“You will find only encouragement for you talents and a place to develop and use them with us…to carry on a role as healer, but expanded to all beings…of course only after study and appropriate vetting,”

“Of course,” Ari agreed

“Initial training is undertaken on Taris, but typically there is a trial period at a Healing Fane such as this for a few months, we must get to know you and you us…the path is not easy, but the rewards are great…”

He leaned forward the fire of a True Believer in his eyes

“To learn from Masters of Healing arts how to strengthen one’s body, to recover from any injury, to attain immortality from all but the most extreme physical damage, indeed many of our highest Prelates have lived for centuries beyond their species normal life span.  Such is the Truth we bring, lie fulfilling its goal to endure.”

He leaned back slightly pressing a small buzzer,

“If you don’t mind I would like a demonstration of your technique?”

“That won’t be a problem,”

“Very well this way,”

Leading her out of the room there was now an opening where before there had simply been a wall, two rows of six beds, eight of the twelve occupied.

“These are our most critical cases, we keep them hidden for their own safety, you have no doubt seen how…rowdy…the crowds can become…”

Pausing midway over a withered undernourished Koorivar, the usual gradient of dark to light skin on the face distorted.  The oddity was the beings chest was highly inflamed.

“What is the prognosis,” she asked

“An unknown pathogen causing a vast cyst to grow…see the others are suffering from the same effect in different parts of the body,” he gestured to expanded bulges on legs, faces and arms on the others.

“Each of them came in with different maladies but began to show these symptoms soon after, we believe there may be some kind of new infectious viral agent, as yet all our treatments have proven futile…perhaps you can assist?”

Determined to gain his trust, and in all honesty wishing to assist the work they were doing she stretched out her hands.

Lightning arced from her fingers as her mind delved the sore, the growth was rapid and featured proteins foreign to the Koorivans regular cellular make up that were replicating into very basic but aimless cells that did nothing but replicate more of the same….

Tracing back through the fractured lines of the body she found it centred on a chest wound…

Perhaps it infected the wound and spread out of control…

Yet there was something odd about the proteins the more she felt them in the aether…and a…responsiveness to her healing energy…they were excited…too excited…they were…

A cold shiver flowed through her.

“What treatments did you give them?”

“Standard cellular replication suppressants,”

“No before that…where did it come from…what…”

The whole puzzle fell into place…

“A typical wound sealant and cellular regeneration patch,”

The lie irritated her, this was not standard, this was experimentation and she knew the basis of the drug they had used.  The proteins, the cellular systems used were a corrupted and damaged version of Aethan cellular repair proteins, out of control when applied to another species.

They were experimenting on these impoverished beings, the Fane was not a place of charity but of study, Nar shadda proving millions of free test subjects…and of course the Revenant here, Nardon, Ybuun, genuinely believed they were doing good by everyone in trialling them on those so desperate they would agree to any course of treatment.

“Is there a problem?”

She lifted her hands from the Koorivar.

“Where is Touchstone?”

The Prior raised his hands defensively but she could smell and see the micro expressions of alarm clear as the mutations a sloppy job at reverse engineering Aethan genetics had produced on these hapless vagabonds.

“I don’t know what,”

“Where is Touchstone, your people are not only stealing my People’s heritage but hurting others with your misguided attempts to use our genetics!”

There was a fury to her words that surprised her, as blunt and xenophobic as her People were, they were still Her People, she could not countenance their genetic heritage being used in this way, less so with such ill effects.

“Sheena I truly do….”

With rapidity that caused the sensate patients to cry up Ari slammed the Prior into the far wall, her forearm pressed against his throat lifting him off the ground.

“Where is touchstone, I won’t ask again!”

“B….Boerin…we get the shipments from Boerin…”

Shocked at her own actions she let him drop.

“It…it helped at first…but….” He justified, Ari sensed no deceit from him

“Forget I was ever here,” she said firmly the aether sparking purple from her eyes singing her fringe.

“And never use those drugs on anyone again, incinerate them….and…”

It was a hard thing to do but it would be merciful compared to the weeks of suffering otherwise…

“…and all those you’ve treated already, they are beyond my help…”

The simple fact was she couldn’t repair what was wrong, as so far as her shatterpoint healing ability was concerned any Aethan cells were a Benefit to be stimulated more not cancer to be excised…any attempts would accelerate their degeneration into a blob of useless cells.

The Prior on the floor glassy eyed as memories wafted from his brain flopped fully as she stepped out.

Nardon rushed as she entered the main fane, only to stagger to the side as she stripped her memory from him as well.

Sofa leaning on a rail opposite the Fane’s crowd of beggars fell into step with her as she strode back to the ship.

“Do you want to talk about it,”

Ari said nothing for some time as they hopped on the mag-rail, the automated doors hissing closed shutting the events behind her.

“They thought they were doing good…but….”

Ari shook her head, she didn’t have time to get involved in such pontifications.

She had to find her uncle and put an end to the Revenant Experiments.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on October 11, 2020, 10:39:42 PM
And Kadmaur makes his presence felt within the Aethan narrative, commensurate with his status as one of the Bigger Bads within the Forumverse  :)  What a wonderful and unexpected turn of events!

Seeing the Revenant operating procedure utilizing a very "grass-roots" paradigm just goes to show that they are A LOT more devious than what we'd previously seen... Nicely done, LSG!

But as Ari progresses through her Guardian training, it seems that her disenfranchisement with her previous life grows, especially when learning what all children experience: that their parents have feet of clay.  What's worse is that she has no counterpoint/balance to give her a true objective view; instead, as she veers towards the xenophobia of her People, they have no compunctions in doing anything other than allowing her to continue along that path.  Of course, not everyone shares that opinion...but will such a disparate perspective ever come to light, especially in Ari's hearing? 

Sometimes it's easy to forget that Ari has been through some terrible losses.  Yes, she was comparatively lucky (especially when reading about the other Aethans), yet she still has been through enough trials and tribulations terrible enough to break the most stalwart of individuals.  But I think that Ari is made of sterner stuff...but whether or not she allows this to continue her down the dark path will remain to be seen.

I have to admit that a favorite scene was the exchange between Sofa and Ari where we really get a glimpse into the motivations of the two women.  It's as touching as it is congenial to read.

Again, we see skillful weaving of pathos throughout the narrative where the characters act as themselves and not what any expectations dictate.  And this is precisely why RotA is one of my favorite stories (not just within the Forumverse but in the SW 'Verse itself  :)): an EXCELLENT narrative with interesting characters living their lives throughout adversity, warts and all.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on October 12, 2020, 02:57:23 PM
Kadmaur again.   That guy shows up everywhere....    ;-)

Loving this.   Like Dutch, I am intrigued by Ari's development.   Her strength piqued my interest, her being the only "purple" outside of Milaea.  This mixture would seem to be rare, and here we have two with it.   And the other is the de-facto leader of the People.   Hmm....

Sofa is also interesting.   So sad that someone with such promise felt, in the end, compelled to become a different SPECIES just so she could finally feel safe.  Whatever their ideals, the Jedi were certainly not perfect.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 19, 2020, 12:26:22 AM
Chapter 18 — Ari’s Quest — Crusade — Part 1
The Shade
Each day a few more millimetres were added. The regenerative properties of the Specimen were second only to the irrationally rapid regrowth in Gen’Dai.

Indeed it’s ability to rapidly repair reminiscent of Gen’Dai cellular regeneration, the hardiness of the cells and bone itself was well beyond what most humanoid or meta species, even cyberneticlly enhanced ones, possessed.

But most critical of all - the way it drew on the Force to repair and revitalize itself despite being detached from any particular homeostatic system.  If they could unlock the method behind it…turn it to their own bodies…

Cell by Cell it was giving up its secrets to Shade Fytr’Mas.  Each day brought new insights and a growing excitement among the scientists and biologists working in the long abandoned Stupa upon Boerin VI. 

The Revenant had come here decades ago seeking the truth behind the claims the monks here had attained a measure of immortality by submersion into the ‘Ki’ as they termed the Force – Myth was all they found even after the most exquisite tortures were applied to the hermits.

However the Stupa atop a network of caverns in the mountain of the icy world provided the perfect place for the Shades work, at great expense they had accumulated state of the art biological scanning and genetic analysis equipment – to say nothing of the artefacts they turned to tracing the threads of the Force that kept the Specimens cells ‘alive’

In the cold of the laboratory the Shade ran his hand over the transparisteel of the isolation pod – the Specimen indifferent within.  He noted the variance to his own red tattooed arm, it was pristine, clean white skin. 

The Specimen was only the arm just below the elbow – or it had been on arrival.  Behind him centrifuges produced the strange cocktail of metals and unusual proteins that through trial and error they had found fed the arms repair – over four years of study it had grown first an elbow, now almost a shoulder – Fytr’Mas speculated that eventually it would regrow a complete body – brain and all. 

Progress had been slow, his superiors accepted that - immortality could not be rushed – yet over the last few days there had been an increase in Force draw, the arm soaked in a greater volume of nutrients per hour.  Beside the isolation pod he noted the graphs of cellular division and electrical activity remained at 50% above the previous year’s averages.

Behind him the Adegan Crystal lattice that illuminated with the flow of the force was likewise 40% stronger. Fyt’r hoped that this signalled some kind of ‘critical mass’ at which point regeneration would accelerate dramatically – his only concern was not being able to synthesize enough of the required proteins to feed it.

The Shade would learn he had been concerned about the wrong thing.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 19, 2020, 12:28:46 AM
 
Chapter 18 — Ari’s Quest — Crusade — Part 2
Aresaea
(https://i.ibb.co/LRz6dHN/ari-8.jpg) (https://ibb.co/LRz6dHN)
Across the valley from the Stupa two figures took in all the stray strands of energy emanating from the facility.

There were 32 sentients in total, three potential threats…and one of their own.

Ever since entering the system Ari could feel a shadow of her Uncles presence…dead and yet…not…it made her feel ill.

Shaking it off with a firm countenance Aresaea focused on working out how to go about this – it was her Trial they were embarked upon.

“So…what’s the plan,” Milaea queried atop a jagged snow covered outcrop.

“The reputation from the files suggests we won’t be welcomed with open arms…” Ari replied the cold turning her breath to mist

“But the Sect on Nar Shadda were cordial enough, we should at least try to talk, convince them that what they are doing won’t work…”

And will bring down Valens and Kiraea’s wrath if I don’t put a stop to it myself before my Trial time frame ends was the unspoken understanding.

She had 4 Aethan days, 172 standard hours left until her Trials deadline of nine days passed, at which point events were no longer under her direct control - Valens and Kiraea would take over the ‘investigation’ of the Revenant…most likely commencing with ‘visiting’ the reputed base on Taris the Prior had mentioned with Thermonuclear weapons, as they had shown a propensity to use as backups on Galtea, indifferent to the millions of collateral casualties. 

“You think they will give up Tarasens body?” Milaea asked well aware of the same potentially devastating chain of events.

The very fact they could feel his necrotic presence meant they were actively performing experiments on Tarasen.

“I doubt it…but we have to try…”

“Why?”

Ari’s brow furrowed at the question, surely Milaea of all people would agree an attempt at negotiation was preferable to going in swords slashing…

But this was still Ari’s trial after all, there might be a test in her question.

“Because if we don’t then we lose all opportunities we might have to befriend them, learn from them.  If they respond aggressively then yes we strike back, but a pre-emptive strike diminishes our options, strategically it makes more sense to keep every option open in our approach and let the other side reduce them in reaction.”

Ari couched her reply in military rather than moral terms, after all only she, Milaea and possibly Sofa would value a peaceful approach – the People overall would consider it an inefficient if not offensive option when a Person was held captive and being experimented on, unless as a means of infiltration – and Ari’s plan achieved that just as well.

 “Alright, lead on,” Milaea said with a smile for the moral side of Ari’s reasoning.

<<<<>>>>

Fyt’r strode confidently toward the entrance, the Shadows had picked up the approaching figures from the base of the mountain nearly two hours ago as they made their assent. 

In thick furred cloaks they were most likely penitents from one of the small villages – a Talz offshoot with a blue tinge to the fur that the Revenant for the most part ignored – likely these were pilgrims who didn’t know the Stupa was no longer home to monks – they had a few come earlier in the year, a simple Force suggestion to spread the word the Stupa was abandoned had obviously not reached these two.

The heavy slate doors scraped open to reveal the two figures as Fyt’r waited for them. He was momentarily shocked to see they were not at all natives.

“Salutations,” a distorted voice called behind a helmet,

“My companion and I have journeyed a long way to seek out a kinsman of ours we have sensed nearby, we wonder if you would be kind enough to assist us in finding them?”

Ari kept her words formal and clear even behind the helmet.

“We can of course offer recompense for your services?”

“You have come a long way indeed we have few visitors?” the hideous tattooed man replied while making quick gestures with his fingers he thought Ari didn’t know were orders to the others about the entrance.
“What makes you believe your kinsman is here?”

Fyt’r noted everything about them, the unusual armour, the strangely subdued Force aura about them, it was not unusual for parents or families of members of the Revenant to try and ‘rescue’ their folk from the ‘crazed cult’ and hire bounty hunters to do so…but these seemed…different.

“We have sensed him in the Force,” Ari replied honestly
“It is important to us he is repatriated to our homeworld,”

“Repatriated?”Fyt’r probed

“He is…or was largely deceased…” Ari drew in a breath knowing this was very much not how Valens might like her to approach the situation, but buoyed by the warm supporting aura Milaea beside her gave off.

“…I think you know of whom I speak, we understand you found the body, and took it for your own research, we don’t begrudge you that, but we know the healing technologies you’ve attempted to develop have unilaterally failed and…I know for a fact they will never truly succeed…we just want to find a way to arrange for his return and proper burial in accordance with our customs and part amicably”

The longer the being spoke the more Fyt’r sensed it – he had spent hours meditating with the Specimen, he knew the taste of it in the force, and these two reeked of it – samples beyond his wildest fantasies had strolled straight up to him!  The Master would be overjoyed, the value of a living sample was beyond measure. 

With quick gestures invisible to the cloaked figures he ordered his wraiths into position.

He smiled
“Yes…we should discuss this…”
Fyt’r gestured them in

“…please enter and refresh yourselves…”

<<<<>>>>

Ari’s heart fell as soon as the heavy slate door closed behind her.

From either side of the entrance courtyards ancient wooden balconies attackers cloaked in competent if not expert Buried Presence techniques leapt at them as other warriors opened up with stun and suppressive weapons.

The large square area surrounded by four levels of worn walkways undercover was a perfect kill box, it was an adept ambush.

Against many others it would’ve succeeded.

Against two young Aethan women who now both felt bitterly disappointed and highly insulted their attempt at negotiation had been responded to with violence it was an excuse to vent.

The shots that were not bounced back were absorbed as raw energy, spun round their bodies like orbiting comets and flung back out into the still mid-air Wraiths, the stun energy had lost some charge but still caused half their number to crash writhing.

In barely an instant three purple blades lit the centre of the courtyard, Milaea’s single blade and Ari’s pair.

<Try and spare them if you can> Ari instructed as rather than retreating she charged straight forward into the enemy – an approach that caught them off-balance for an instant – an instant that for Aethan reflexes was four instants and as many hands cauterized.

They felt the covetousness for their bodies from the tattooed and robes cultists…not in lust but something more twisted…as…samples, something to idolize and emulate

It disgusted her.

She wove through them like azure fire, bouncing back their shots, cracking skulls and severing limbs, Milaea was behind telekinetically hurling any of the Wraiths on the balconies or roof down for Ari to finish off.

Side doors burst and more came in heavily armed with repeaters and stun nets,

<I’ll take the flanks, find the leader!>

The large doors to the internal chamber now opened before Ari as she broke the hip of the last one in range with her knee.  A half dozen more Wraiths with sabers lead by the one who had greeted them with a saber pike.

The leader offered a rictus grin and called across the courtyard

“Conquer Mortality Brethren!”

With a hideous drain on the aether about half of the cultists she had just disabled straggled back up eldritch energy knitting bones and muscle back together with preternatural speed  -the healing Ari could sense was not like Aethan methods that were deep and genetically idiosyncratic…this was a slapdash binding to fight on.

Outnumbered it left her only one option.

<Spare the leaders, slay the rest> she had to order, powerful as the Aethans were, numbers could bring them down and she doubted they had faced their best yet – shambling wounded fanatics were too much of a risk.

Without pause Ari threw both sabres forward at the Chosen Six who guarded the Shade, and sped her four glass shikkars along the ground, the carefully crafted stealth blades near undetectable.

Her hands free she unleashed a storm of aetheric lighting at the recently revived before they could make an attack – pure purple tinged energy struck them full on flash immolating their heads and torso’s.

It only made Fyt’r want her more.  His Chosen deflected the sabre throws, but then three retched in pain, a fourth managed to sense the shikkar in time and slice it apart – the other three found themselves stabbed in the groin join of their armour and an enchanted glass dagger now working up into their organs slicing them apart from within.

Ari rushed forward with bolts of lightning in time to catch her returning sabers and engages with the three Chosen and the Shade.

Even as she found herself in a tornado of light, the push and pull of telekinetic blows and tendrils of metaphysical probes she kept a level of thought watching out for Milaea.

Milaea’s moves were typical for a Jedi, flowing, defensive, strikes limited to disable and gain distance rather than kill, if there was a distinction it was that Milaea used the strength, speed and dexterity Aethan genetics granted her fully in her motions, beyond standard humanoid range and articulation it allowed her to gracefully avoid the comparatively clunky attacks aimed at her.

Just as Ari thought she discerned Milaea’s fighting style, the svelte red clad woman landed an upper cut that utterly shattered the jaw of a cultist and ratcheted their skull – and spine with it, up and back out of place…she followed through by bringing her elbow down onto the collar bone imploding it into the torso leaving a V shaped mess of wrecked bone beneath the tattooed skin and the cultist looking like a creature from a circus grotesquery.

An instant later Milaea spun with a round house kick that dented a skull inward with such force the other side of the head exploded outward with brain.

(https://i.ibb.co/yQ2h7Wy/M-61.jpg) (https://ibb.co/yQ2h7Wy)

It seemed as un-Aethan like as Milaea was in always trying to avoid conflict even with those who threatened her….once the fight started she was merciless as Valens, lithe as Kiraea, and brutally efficient as Jarys.

Satisfied Milaea was fine Ari turned her attention fully to the battle around her, her modified Jar-Kai kept the enemy at a distance, despite their numerical advantage, Aethan speed denied them any openings and forced them to draw heavily on the Force just to keep up with her as she pushed the back into the large room that seemed to resemble a mediative Prayer room she had visited on Galtea with Saani once, tattered drapes and ancient wood floors covered in faded red carpets – the quiet alcoves for contemplation now given over to heinous experiments and self-mutilation.

Her enemy’s fatigue was soon apparent and Ari wasted no time, one Chosen had to divert concentration from telekinetic countermeasure to speed, Ari punished it by gripping the ribs beneath the chest armour and tearing them open, the Chosen collapsed in a mess.

A second died trying to cover his flank, Ari’s natural strength was taking its toll too, with the aether she struck 6 times human strength, even with the force to help them, each clash created recoil too much for the Chosen’s joints to deal with after a few blows, he faltered and Ari severed the head cleanly.

Now only three onto one she focused on the leader, amplifying her presence to intimidate hoping the others would flee or at least waver.

Amplify her instinctive kinetite shield to buffet the others she doubled her speed again to disable the Shade , the sudden burst of speed was too much, with the pommels of her sabers and her knees she broke every bone she could reach, the thin man crumpling in tremendous pain.

Without pause she moved on the Chosen to her right, her speed still carrying her into sweeping downward blows that cut him off at the knees then diced his head.

The last turned to flee until she grabbed its ankles with the aether and pulled them up above her own head – like a hanging body in an abattoir she sliced it open.

About to turn to help Milaea a vile whisper came from the ground where the Shade had landed

 “Through Death I walk to Birth…”

Hideous wet cracks of bones popping back into place were only marginally less disgusting than how the aether rippled with slapdash necromantic power around the thin man, his tattoo’s seeming to burn blacker into the skin as his limbs as he rose like a puppet on invisible strings.

<Well that is…unexpected> 

Ari rolled her shoulders back loosening herself for the next round as the creature she thought was dead…cackled was the wrong word…gurgled vile black blood.

“That is not dead which can eternal lie, by the Masters grace never shall we die!”

<We’ll see about that…>

With preternatural speed Ari and the Shade slammed together in a clash of aether powered blows.

The man’s body was wiry, gaunt, ‘skin and bones’ Saani would call it, yet it was titanium…the seeming absence of muscle yielded a kind of strength as there was less surface area to strike, fewer places she could do damage. His body was clearly fortified by the aether the mechanism of which she was unsure of and had no time to probe to try and undermine.

His fists and feet struck like the second hand on a clock, with rhythm and around the whole of her body looking for purchase. 

She felt the bony knuckles hit her cheek, the near skinless knees slam against her ribs as he unleashed like a drunken kowakiaan, random and furious.

She blocked where she could, turning blows aside, looking for a chance that finally came as she made a quick back step – his punch over shooting into the air as she stood side on and grabbed his arm in a lock.

Grunting she drew the aether into her arms and twisted, the thin yet resilient bone finally snapping within the ritualistically marked skin.

As soon as it broke she could sense the necromantic energies leech forth to try and reknit the bone and muscle…she couldn’t give any quarter.

Avoiding his head butt and gnashing teeth she kneed his ribs hard as she let go – but she kept her knee in place – using it as the anvil to her elbows hammer crushing the ribcage and sternum.  More wet popping cracks and sickly energy flowed

<How much can he take!>

Whatever his restorative ability there had to be a limit.  His core shattered he began to flop as she pulled away and grabbed at his legs, hauling one up in both hands and snapping the ankle then gripping the foot under her right arm bringing her left elbow down to snap the calf bone.

Again the man gurgled laughter and pushed her away with messy telekinetic blasts, she stood firm and spun out of the Aether Wave and straight into a full bodied tackle slamming him to the ground.

He kicked and thrashed as she punched him over and over in the head – the only effect to make his skin completely black as purple bruising filled the gap between tattooed script.

Giving up on knocking him unconscious she rammed her fists into each shoulder, her arms heavy with the aether to give her strength to shatter the artificially strong bone, then spun to the side to grab his undamaged legs as it kicked and palmed the knee cap backwards.

Still he blurted and spat irritating her with his intransigence.

“Will you just DIE!”

Purple hued light erupted around her as her anger turned to power and in a rage she grabbed his forearm with two hands, braced her foot on the ruined shoulder and tore it straight off.

That got a reaction, the cackling stopped as the last twitches died in the severed limb before she threw it aside.

Standing over the wrecked body she met his gaze, for the first time etched with genuine worry.

Finger twitching with frustration she unleash bladed arcs of electricity…his aetheric defences scattered the first few but she pushed ever harder, teeth gritted till his kinetic shield broke – her purple lighting curved like sickles cutting in at the hips and shoulder to sever both legs and remaining arm leaving the creature a torso with cauterized stumps.

Now heaving and dribbling blood the body seemed to give out with a wimper…but settled into a queerly peaceful breathing as the enormity of the damage she had inflicted rendered him unconscious at last.

The heavy doors at the far end of the prayer room finally burst open, Ari turned with unconcealed rage as another dozen of the lesser cultists charged in, her hands filled with luminous power ready to turn them to dust.

Even as she raised her hands to unleash the leader of this next group’s head flew back as something dark split it apart between the eyes,

<Aresaea, Milaea cover the flanks, we’ll finish them> Valens directed as he strode past, arm machine like firing arrows into the horde while Sofa’s blue sabre was just ahead to keep them off him, both marching steady and firm into the enemy.

Wife and Husband were soon surrounded, or rather positioned in the heart of the enemy.

Sofa spun in a flawless Niman variant, the flexible style allowing her to block power maces and then sever legs through the tattered robes with ease around Valens who stood still in the centre firing arrow after arrow - the same six teleported back into his hand as the cultists dropped one by one.

If they avoided an arrow they got the sabre, where the dodged the sabre they got the arrow.

Ari and Milaea threw up telekinetic walls to keep the more wavering ones from fleeing and gently bounce them into the path of the sabre and arrows until within 30 seconds of their arrival Sofa and Valens had slaughtered all twelve.

“Are you alright?” Milaea put a hand on Ari’s bare shoulder, shirt long since torn off,

“Fine…just…”

“Angry?”

“Yes…” Ari settled, the purple glow of her power diminishing as she calmed.

“Me too…” Milaea agreed, “There was no need for this…we came here in peace…”

“Unfortunately our welcome was in deception and war as Saani would say…” Ari replied “They knew what we were…and they wanted to exploit us…

It did not bode well.

“….tchhh….tchhh….” the Shade hissed out still incredibly alive with his twisted healing abilities.

“The leader…” Valens surmised walking over to him
“You will interrogate him Aresaea?”

“Of course,” she replied as Valens crouched inspecting the gurgling creature.

“It’s stable…wretched but stable…” Valens drew out an Orb from seemingly nowhere.

It doesn’t need the ‘Force’ anymore.”

The Null Orb activated and sent the creature unconscious once more as its connection to the Force, and any chance to communicate with it’s ‘Master’ was disabled.

“We will take this…thing…away…Ari find your uncle,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 19, 2020, 12:29:22 AM
 
Chapter 18 — Ari’s Quest — Crusade — Part 3
Aresaea
Milaea instinctively held her from behind

“It’s not your fault…at least we can....return part home,”

Her Uncle was not here…not fully…only their arm in a case being experimented upon, by these…fanatics…

The Pink Gormin in the room was what had become of the rest of him – had Ari’s uncle been hacked to pieces to be sent to places like this for outsiders to perform experiments on.

Ari felt the tears well in her eyes at Tarasen’s body so disrespected and denied rest.

The room was replete with scanners, test tubes, monitors and holo-desktops, as well as more eldritch aetheric devices.

Swallowing down her grief Ari gently pried herself out of Milaea’s arms, grateful for the support but needing to focus on the task at hand.

“There may be information here that can help find…” she couldn’t bring herself to say the rest
“…my uncle…”

Milaea considered trying to tell her to wait, to calm herself first…but a cold wash over Ari’s aura indicated hormonal activation of Aephrodaea’s Grace might be about to do that anyway.

“Alright let’s start looking.”

The records were in a strange code that seemed strangely archaic, however charts and graphs showed obvious similarities to bio-monitoring allowing them to determine which ones were for cellular division, nutrient flow and thereby work backwards to scry out key words.

They had been trying to, from the arm, regrow a whole body, and learn how the genetic and aetheric patterns enabled it to survive and thrive so easily comparative to other humanoid species…

One grisly find was other arms of non Aethans in similar tubes, most necrotic, failing the same tests…both women could only weep at what had become of their prior owners.

They worked for nearly six hours, Sofa coming to an fro collecting equipment for transport back to the Aephrodaea and bringing them food and drink, Valens outside amidst the cliffs and snow patrolling and flow walking to pick up any clues – unfortunately these Revenant were capable of covering aetheric tracks here far better than they had on Yavin.

The mood was sombre but lightened a little as, despite the grim task, Milaea and Aresaea found comfort in their close co-operation.

“I think that’s all we can find here…” Milaea finally said, placing her hand on Ari’s shoulder, a few small chips in the plate from the fight.

“We should head off get some rest…”

Reluctantly she nodded in agreement and they began packing and removing all evidence they had been there in the aether.

“You have to decide,” Valens said as they headed into the growing snow outside to meet him and the ship,

“What you want to do with this Stupa…it’s only a matter of time before other Revenant check in and find it…empty.”

Ari turned to look once more over the ancient building, it was beautiful in a way, so tall and noble, a place once for quiet religious observance and welcome, corrupted by the Revenant.

Two conflicting desires mingled in her, to purge everything these enemies of the People had touched from the galaxy with MASER fire from orbit…or to leave it to be, hopefully…reclaimed by the Talz native to this world – if they even still wanted it.

For long moments she stood staring into the clouds ever darker over the Stupa’s tip, puzzling over the best course.

She looked to two sources for guidance, the necklace about her neck Saani had given her, and Milaea beside her.  

Both brought her to herself and the only answer that was fitting.

“Leave it…but…destroy the bodies outside the perimeter. Leave nothing of them to be revived by the Revenant,”

With only a nod Valens set about the task of cremation leaving the young women to return to the ship and rest after a long disappointing day.

<<<<>>>>


Milaea

“You tried Ari…” Milaea soothed as they sat beside warm bowls of stew, finally changed and bathed.

“I hate them…” Ari replied staring at the table of her room where they sat.

“…I hate what they have done to my uncle, wanted to do to us…I want to destroy them, punish them all…”

Milaea had little she could respond with, she felt in most ways the same…try as she might not to.  It was the first time she had seen Ari without any sense of calm to her – even fighting the Shade there was still a level of control that now seemed…eroded by the vileness of the two fold desecration.

“It’s not wrong to want justice…” Milaea replied as best she could
“But don’t let the need for it consume you…remember why you’re on this journey,”

Ari nodded solemnly finally looking her in the eye.

“I know…I will find Tarasen, all of him…and…I have to destroy whatever they learnt from his body, I can’t allow any more be taken from us than already has,”

The words would not have been out of place from Kiraea or Selaena.  And Milaea could not disagree, the potency of their genetic and aetheric power in the wrong hands was beyond terrifying, Lucovis was merely the most successful in harnessing it – his downfall had been he, or in the end she, had acted largely alone, these Revenant as a cult scattered across the galaxy were potentially far more dangerous.

Even so the instinctual vengeance that tinged Ari’s aura was disturbing.

Something about her had hardened, at first Milaea it thought it was an understandable reaction to the battle on Boerin VI, but the more she felt out Ari’s depths of feeling the more she realised it was the culmination of all the changes, the lessons, the highs and lows since leaving Galtea.

Ari was working out who she was independent of her Uncle, her Adoptive Parents, and even the other Aethans – this trial was pushing her from being part of their stories into becoming the protagonist of her own.

It was a scary crossroads Milaea was all too familiar with.

With grim efficiency Ari downed the heated stew that must’ve stung given it had no time to properly cool.

With foreboding steps she left silently to begin the Interrogation.

<<<<>>>>

Interrogation
(https://i.ibb.co/dD1YmRJ/Ari-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/dD1YmRJ)
The restraints served more to pacify Aethan paranoia than any practical use.

The Shades irritating propensity to heal had inclined Valens to clamp pieces of metal onto the saber cauterized stumps of its legs and arms..

Hoisted on a beam in the centre of the Aetheric Nexus Chamber, the Shade had the same vile grin on his face.

“I will reveal nothing, you have no tortures that can harm me!” its voice was still a gargling bubble as Ari walked around him, the Null orb just beneath the beam he was tied to.

“Where is the rest of the body you found on Yavin?” her voice barely a whisper echoed in the vast circular Bloodstone chamber, one of three on the Destroyer.

The Shade merely grinned

“Inflict your pain, I welcome it, I indulge in it! Pain is life!”

Ari almost giggled at the similarity of his statement to the Extolled’s cultural interpretation of pain.  

It was something she could not appreciate, Aethans did not feel pain like other humanoids, they experienced the red hazy sensation – an awareness of damage or fatigue – but it was a neutral experience, not so different from feeling full after eating too much or hungry after training – physiological data not a visceral suffering.

Where Aethans could hurt was mentally and emotionally.

And Ari hurt now, frustrated at being unable to finish her trial, missing her adoptive parents, uncertain about her place and role among the People.

This hurt she would use against her enemies.

“Who is you Master?”

“A glorious being who leads us upon the path of eternity! Cower in awe at his magnificence when it visits you!”

She shook her head, she had given him another chance…and he had rejected it with mad ramblings.

“Do you know what an Anzat is?”

He made no reply expect the rictus smile.

“Soul eaters, spirit drinkers…one of them taught me how to manipulate minds, how to reach in and take what is needed, it is their biological speciality…”

She paused her pacing in front of him

“I exceeded my master by the end, I learned more than he ever knew, I felt the nascent instinct for the Soup he repressed as he taught me, the danger of giving in to it was the limit of his ability…a limit I do not possess”

Reaching down she plucked up the null Orb and deactivated it, the Aether briefly flooded the Nexus.  

For a fleeting moment the Shade’s Force based regeneration restarted and he attempted to send a signal of distress…It was lost to the Nexus Bloodstone walls.

Nothing of the aether entered or left the curved Bloodstone unless a Person - aetherically and biologically attuned to the ultradense material of their homeworld - desired it - a harmony this Shade could never attain rendering it a Null room for its own connection to the Force.

“This is your last chance, tell me where the body you found on Yavin is and who your Master is now or I will take what I need for myself and my People, and you will not so much die as be erased as an entity from your own brain.”

“I will be Eternal!” It’s zealotry knew no bounds it seemed.  One cannot reason with the insane Ari coolly concluded as her finger lit with sharp purples.

The mental barriers of the Shade were significant, no doubt he was well trained and had many safeguards in place to preserve the anonymity of his order…it would not be easy.

She had learned how to probe, control and twist minds by two very different masters – Kazic Ovarug and Kiraea.

From Kazic she learnt artfulness, precision, to do no more than what was needed to avoid unnecessary damage, and how to extract just enough.

Form Kiraea the lessons were similar but more…aggressive – to not just avoid or out flank barriers, but to remove them completely, to feel neither care nor concern about what state the subject ended up in so long as the People obtained what they needed.
 
She began with a butcher’s cleaver hacking down the blunt and obvious mental walls.

Then a paring knife skinning the soft but firm blocks surrounding the core of consciousness and memory.

What the Shade experienced as she progressed she did not note expect as simple feedback from a system, whatever parts of Ari were compassionate and sympathetic turned off by the desecration of her family this creature had perpetuated.

It was so easy to just see the being as a problem to solved.

Finally a scalpel, expertly severing parts of the cortex that gave rise to personality, to a sense of self, and even conscious awareness which was not necessary to her purpose.

All that was left was the raw memory cortices, neurons flaring in random reminiscence without direction or purpose, all sentience was gone.

And from this thin soup she plucked the words and patterns she needed by carefully and precisely activating neuronal patterns she needed while leaving the rest with atrophying or suppressed.

<<<<>>>>

“Teth,” was the final answer Ari gave as stood at the door to the Nexus, her shirt covered in blood, behind her barely visible the dead form of the Shade, face covered in dark dripping fluids that glugged from the ears, eyes and nose with every remaining beat of the dying heart.

“The rest of the body is held at Teth,”

“Anything else of note?” Valens asked ever the pragmatist he was blind to Ari’s distressed state, unable to comprehend how extracting information from an outsider could in anyway be emotionally draining.

“No…whatever knowledge of it’s Master it possessed was elusive to begin with, possibly suppressed by the Master itself, and soon dissolved in the slurry,”

Valens merely nodded and headed to research the location of their next stop, Ari slowly backed into the Nexus to ‘clean up’.  The condition Ari had left the Shade in sobering even to a merciless slayer such as himself.

“Are you alright?” Milaea’s voice a whisper echoes in the now eerily silent chamber that held a flitting memory of screams that had passed Ari by completely.

“Fine…” Ari replied deactivating the grav-shackles and letting the body drop,

“Relieved actually, I was worried I might not be able to pull the information out of it, I’ve never tried that precise a mental disassembly before.”

That Ari called the Shade ‘it’ rather than ‘he’ was a troubling shift Milaea would in other times note more prominently but for now she held off, it would do no good until Ari realised it herself.

Milaea left Aresaea to complete the messy work of cleaning up the remnants of a once living being from all over the floor.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 19, 2020, 12:29:55 AM
Chapter 18 — Ari’s Quest — Crusade — Part 4
Valens
“How will you approach this?” Valens queried as the large view screen on the Aephrodaea’s bridge showed a zoomed in image of the B’omarr Monastery atop one of the dozens of skyscraper like mesa’s where the monks could contemplate the infinite in isolation from the jungles below – and likely completely indifferent to the Revenant that used their building as a base.

“Last time I gave them a chance to negotiate, the responded by attacking us…they struck first,” Ari reasoned beside him

“My attack will be retaliatory,”

He nodded approvingly

“I’ll go with you this time, your abilities are great, but these Revenant are unnaturally resilient, if we encounter another Shade leave it to me.”

Ari inclined in agreement, Valens meant no disrespect to her skills in his orders, as Warchief it was his role to develop strategy for the People in all fields of battle, in this situation it was better a full adult Guardian face the Revenant leaders, Ari’s abilities were a match for the one on Boerin – but only a match.

“Everything else I leave to you,” he turned to head to the armoury but paused to look at her

“This trial has been longer and harder than I imagined, I’m sure the Goddesses will be proud of the persistence, wisdom and strength you’ve shown and will reward you when you return to Aethas,”

“I need no more reward than repatriating my uncle.”

Valens smiled at the genuine humility of Ari’s reply as he descended via the stairs to the Armoury.

“What’s the Plan?” Sofa asked jutting her arms into the body glove.

“We hit them, Aresaea is determining her tactics now,”

“She’s a smart girl that one,” Sofa noted “Strong too,”

“Stronger than she knows…” Valens noted checking over his armour before casting off his casual leather vest.

“Three…always Three,” he said more to himself than his wife who by now was used to his occasionally obscure cultural utterings and paid them little mind.

“One for each Goddess…Milaea is one…if Ari is the second…”

<<<<>>>>
Aresaea

“Is that clear?” Ari finished her instructions to the Extolled force.

“Understood Avatar, These ones proudly to serve, none of the enemies of the Gods will escape Divine Justice this day.”

The religious zealotry at any other time would’ve sat ill with Ari, but when it served her needs so precisely…

It was very easy to exploit it without thought.

She nodded permission for them to return to their preparations and reflected on other things that had come too easily of late.

She had mind ripped the Revenant, plotted a surgical assault without any real thought about the means, only the end of retrieving her Uncle.

The violence inherent in the means had and did seem so natural, so expedient…

It felt unlike her…as if she had taken in the xenophobic indifference of her People toward outsiders already, not even noticing the shift from the liberal toleration Saani and Kazic had taught her.

“It’s too easy…” Milaea’s voice seemed to come from nowhere as Ari strolled back toward the armoury
“To lose ourselves to the Tribe…to slot into their way of thinking…”

Ari paused in her gait

“I…I know but…”

“At least you know” Milaea smiled catching up to her fully

“The problem comes when you’re changing how you think and act without realising it…The more time we spend with the others, the more we think like them, Valens and Kiraea especially, they are strong presences in the group mind, experienced, knowledgeable…”

“But their solutions to problems with Outsiders are very…one track…” Ari continued for her

“Yes….and Jarys and the others aren’t that different enough to temper it…even Sofa…”

Ari smiled “Is almost worse!”

“True,” Milaea agreed.  “I have to admit I’m, hoping that the two of us can…”

“…soften the sharp edges?”

“Exactly,”

“But in this case…the Revenant…” Ari glanced aside “I don’t think there is another way,”

Milaea could only nod in agreement, it seemed she did that a lot when talking to Ari,

“Their fanaticism…what they want to do with our genetic template…” Ari could tell Mili was reflecting on what Lucovis had done with the clone babies.

“They can’t be reasoned with, I admit I didn’t like how you interrogated the Shade, but with time critical… I couldn’t think of another way.”

Ari appreciated the honesty, she had her own doubts about the methods she had used on the Shade, and admittedly worried she hadn’t given herself time in her anger to think of alternatives…that Milaea herself could think of no other way made Ari feel relieved she had not acted hastily as she thought.

“Perhaps the important thing…” Ari began to summarise “Is that we both tried to find another way in the first place.”

She passed her hand over the door control the gentle swish sound revealing the nine large lockers, only two occupied by their personal sets of Mark 1 Oblivion Armour, cushioned seats to help change and racks of rifles, pistols, bows and arrows.

Striding forward Ari quickly slipped out of her simple black singlet, her typical wear on the ship, be bath which was only a very light dark bra that made Milaea slightly…not uncomfortable so much as…illicitly excited…to see as Ari changed.

“Maybe…” Ari thought out loud as she took off her trousers as well folding them neatly into the box beneath her suit of armour with the aether before checking over the nanite weave body glove

“…we need to remind each other to think of other ways, together we could present a stronger alternative view point in the group mind?”

Ari looked round to see Milaea was just standing there not getting changed.  Suddenly flushed with embarrassment Milaea quickly headed to her own locker, her armour Bloodstone rather than blackstone, the rarer harder to work ultradense material able to cope with the extreme of aetheric power she could wield – if she had to.

“Yes that’s a good idea, between us we can be a stronger voice…though more would help…maybe Xani when she is older, if we find any other survivors who had been treated well…and possibly…”

Milaea seemed in a sudden hurry to look like she was not unconsciously stealing glances at Ari as she jiggled- in all the right places - into the tight body glove.

“…Possibly?”

“Oh something we can talk about after,” Milaea hung up her own jacket and shirt, now only in pastel pink underwear.

“That’s nice, did you make them yourself?” Ari asked of Milaea’s underwear…realising only momentarily later it was an excuse to stare.

“Oh, a gift from Kiraea, much as she hates outsider clothes she can’t help copying their negligée designs.” Milaea replied not minding the attention to her figure at all.

“You look gorgeous…I mean they look good on you…” Ari corrected fumbling around Mili once more before a slightly awkward silence in which both eyed the other half dressed.

“…mmm I’d better check the power cells on the rifles….”

<<<<>>>>

She moved quickly and easily though the jungle undergrowth’s of Teth.

They had landed nearly 40 kilometres from the Monastery, moving closer by foot to avoid detection.

It reminded her of traversing Yavin for so many years, she knew by sight, by Feel how to glide silently through a jungle or forest, Jarys and Kiraea’s lessons had only sharpened her skills further.

Valens just behind her was equally adept, albeit having to keep only to the strongest branches due to his 50 kilograms of extra weight in muscle and armour.

She attuned herself quickly to the jungle, understood its ebbs and flows using the schema she’d learned from Yavin and Aethas, everything had a role with an analogue she could connect with prior experience, without even knowing the names of some plants she knew which ones would ruffle too much, or be home to reptiles or small mammals best left undisturbed.

They worked their way swiftly to the base of the tower like Mesa upon which the Monastery stood, at ground level they could only see the clouds not the top of the vast sheer cliff.

Up there like a blazing torch was the vile half living sense of her uncle.  Like Boerin IV, they were using him, artificially reviving his body for their experiments. 

The same anger that had turned her so cold in interrogating the Shade chilled the edges of her mind...

She stared intently at the rock face to refocus on the now - it would be quite a climb.

With a little discomfort she checked the bulbous villip communication device to confirm the Extolled were in position on the far side of the Mesa to also begin their ascent.  The way the leathery bulb transformed into the face of the Extolled group leader Gnuur was disturbing, as used to alien technologies as she was from Galtea the Extolled seemed on another level.

<And….> Valens asked openly to her thoughts as they clipped on the rappelling harnesses.

<And…that very strangeness is why they are such an effective ally> Ari deduced in this minor trial

<No one else in the galaxy we know of possesses such biotechnology, or will for centuries…it gives us a tremendous advantage…so long as they remain loyal>

Tightening the nyal-steel cable round her waist she paused considering

<What happens if they no longer believe we are Avatars of their gods or wish to share their knowledge with us?>

Valens didn’t reply.

She already knew the answer. 

Used to climbing the faces of greysleet – or phirk – mountains, the mesa’s grey-pink rock was easy to navigate being dramatically less dense – soft almost.  Their greatest difficulty was their sheer weight straining the cables designed for Chiss Commando’s not far denser aethan bodies, but with the aether they could create gravity diminishing fields to reduce the down pull and subtle telekinetic uplifts to increase buoyancy.

Trickles of water guided their way to where there were makeshift sewers flowing from the Monastery high above simply sloshing rain and waste out onto the jungle below.

Crawling into one such opening she checked the progress on the Extolled contingent on the overside of the cliff face, they were behind but not by much.

The caverns were dank and moist with the leaving of ages dripping down from stalagmites, the light from outside was soon lost as they stalked forward slowly finding traces of old dumped building materials, a few ancient bodies with hands bound to stakes, loose bricks and rubble in this forgotten section several hundred meters below the main monastery.

As the natural cavern gave way to sloppy brick work Ari held up a fist to stop as she heard movement ahead, genehanced hearing detecting four synchronized thin feet on the uneven ground ahead.

She peeked out to spy a Bo’marr Spider droid wandering, the brain in a glass jar beneath the main droid body.

Disgust radiated from Valens.

<Depraved and delusional creatures> he sneered telepathically

<Do you know much about the B’omarr?>

<Enough, they are a degenerate sect than pontificates on meaningless drivel rather than leading useful lives.>

The Xenophobic hate was palpable, Ari had come to respect and learn from so many cultures on the tolerant open Galtea, she knew a little of these monks desire to detach from ‘physical distractions’; to complete the mysteries of the universe, but had not expected such a vicious reaction from Valens, as if he was threatened by the nature of their philosophy.

<You think contemplating the nature of the universe and our place in it is wasteful?>

Ari immediately realised she need not have asked the question, the answer was so obvious.

Valens was a protector and leader of his People, a husband, brother, friend and mentor, he acted always to strengthen the People, he never contemplated the why of his actions, his motivations, he simply acted according to deep ingrained cultural and tribal dictates.  To spend time contemplating the nature of life beyond ways to restore or destroy it, to ponder the nature of a ‘good life’, or consider the moral implications of his actions and beliefs was utter folly, something that never even entered his mind to do.

<We are as we are, we plant our crops, herd our gormin, raise our children and love our People, what more is there to contemplate.>

<You never wonder why life, the aether, or universe exists?> Ari knew Valens was extraordinarily intelligent, even for an Aethan, with the memories of Valance from the Technocracy and his own experiences studying with Yoda he must possess a wealth of knowledge.

<They are as they are, these B’omarr waste their time, mutilating their bodies pursuing what is incomprehensible for mortals instead of contributing to their own People>

Ari could not disagree with some of what he said, the Monks goals did seem ultimately futile, yet she could at least respect their choice to pursue such a life, acknowledge their culture valued pursuits hers did not.  Valens though seemed to find it a direct affront, another reason their lives were worth less than Peoples.

She peeked out to view the thing wander about some task or other completely oblivious to both her and most likely the revenant that occupied the Monastery.

<If that can get down here there must be a way up…we’ll follow it> she decided.

Ari was soon proved correct, the seemingly random wandering lead up several levels of gentle sloping ramps made of harsh worn stones.

The Revenant had placed a number of motion sensors and detection equipment, but the technology was outdated to say the least and no match for her skills to disable or avoid.

They finally came to the bottom levels of the Monastery proper above the plant, cellars and catacombs lined with the ‘retired’ monks.

It was here they encountered the first of the Revenant. 

Lackies and underlings, limited if any aetheric power attending to menial tasks. They were eliminated with silence and speed.

The Monastery was composed largely of vast central round chambers, surrounded by innumerable spiralling walkways up the cylindrical buildings, it was through these they raced, a few of the Revenants prepared for them, most caught off guard by the speed of their progression as whatever alerts system they had failed to reach them before the Aethans did.

Some never even knew they were there before their head hit the floor.

Soon there were scores of cultists armed with antiquated las-Muskets – slow to fire compared to modern blasters but with a dangerously higher charge that risked exploding and killing the bearer just as much as the target – perhaps two dozen were armoured with Lightsabres – half at most knew how to use them proficiently.

This was a horde defence to wear them down – between them Ari knew she and Valens could carve a rapid bloody swathe.  But there would be better trained Wraiths and Shades deeper within, they needed to converse their power.

She scanned the entrances behind the gathering throng picking up the faintest of motion in the shadows

Do-ro'ik vong pratte!” Ari yelled her helmet speakers at full.

The Cultists only just on their knees to brace for a volley looked bemused at the unfamiliar language.

The Translation was ‘And woe to our Enemies’ – the Battle Cry of the Yuuzhan Vong Warrior Caste.

The Extolled forces who had scaled the other side of the mesa and made their way through the rear of the Monastery cried in response behind the cultists and delivered the Woe in bloody buckets.

The fury of twenty Extolled warriors crashed into the cultists rear and flanks – fully armoured in the first Aethas grown voduun crab armour and amphistaffs – stronger and healthier than anything the stagnant worldship crèches could grow - the charge sent the thin fanatics flying by the dozen.  While they had fought several times beside their avatars in ooglith masquers on infiltration missions, this was their first chances to fight in open combat fully armed as a warrior of the Extolled should be.

They relished it.

The cultists zealotry was no less, but their physical state was drastically less robust, and as had been the case time and again, they simply had no effective counter to the novel Extolled bio-weapons.

Ari and Valens charged through the now faltering front line, blades spinning through arms and legs as they went before advancing past the melee leaving the Extolled to slaughter the Revenant who or the first time faced opponents as obsessive and self-mutilated as they were.

Through the high arched corridors they passed two groups of Wraiths that tried to stop them with their red glowing saberstaffs and single hilt weapons – against two Aethans the first group of three were overwhelmed in mere seconds, Ari did not give them time to draw on the Force to enhance their speed to match the metahumans.

The second group of four were better prepared, rushing forward with strong defensive guards – Ari sent her four shikkar dagger flying in advance, the aetherically suppressed glass blades glided a millimetre above the stone floor then straight up into their abdomens – the blade snapping off at the hilt and burying into their organs. In excruciating pain the zealous creatures still fought on, but while their speed was a match with the Force their raw physical strength was not – shoulders and elbows popped with the first block of Ari and Valens blows, swift lows cuts and kicks finished them before they stomped the torso’s and skulls to ensure they could not use their strange ‘healing’ abilities to any effect.

Ari followed the presence of her uncle to large dull metal doors ahead, Wraiths either side fired from tripod-las Gattling cannons, the rapid fire yellow energy meeting her Jar-Kai deflections and pounding dozens of carbon smoking holes in the wall per second before she gripped both tripod weapons and pulled them to her – the Wraiths staggered and went for their blades – she responded with combination aetheric lighting and telekinesis that slammed them deeply into the door and boiled the water from their skin cells levels them shrivelled and burnt in moments.

She didn’t slow her run, simply twisting and galvanising her pauldron with the aether to shoulder tackle the vast door open.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 19, 2020, 12:30:34 AM
Chapter 18 — Ari’s Quest — Crusade — Part 5
Aresaea
(https://i.ibb.co/kXP2ZzB/Ari-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/kXP2ZzB)
Behind was a vast wide round chamber, at least seven stories high, covered in hundreds of small alcoves where in red lit glass canisters the brains of the enlightened Bo’marr monks contemplated the mysteries of the universe free from the distractions of a body.

An incomprehensible web of cables and conduit snaked all over the walls between the brain jars, connecting across the huge empty centre a dozen ways.  Mid-sized spider droids wandered back and forth up and across the walls on perplexing tasks.

On the floor directly ahead the vast circular area was separated by medical white partitions, each filled with vials, scanners, resuscitators, bubbling tubes and variegated medical equipment all caked in viscera.

Ari suddenly realised why the Revenant had chosen this place – the Bo’marr had extensive surgical equipment to enable their ‘enlightenment’ by separating brains from bodies and keeping them alive – for a cult dedicated to achieving immortality by any means such a store of knowledge and equipment would be irresistible, especially given the pacifist monks would not, and arguably could not, resist their occupation.

Here also the most capable Revenant Forces were awaiting them – eight Wraiths and three Shades. 

One had been a near match, three would overwhelm her, the Wraiths would add to the pressure.  Any worry Ari felt was allayed by Valens firm presence beside her, another lesson affirmed that the People needed each other to survive.

“You have penetrated far and fast…” a female with stark white features etched by blood brown tattoos in the centre rasped
“Your beasts are impressive…our Master will revel in learning their secrets…but now you are ours!”

With a violent snap her jaw opened far wider than it should, the bone no doubt breaking, and a hideous twisted screech filled the vastness of the chamber causing the brain jars to vibrate dangerously close to shattering.

The Scream of Aether and sound hit Ari directly – her instinctive defences buckled and only in the nick of time did she redirect all her energy to fighting off the heinous attack that danced tendrils of horrific images about her vision.

The Banshee’s screech was a melange of attacks, mental, malacia, kinetic, thermal, attempting to overwhelm her while the Wraiths and Shades moved to attack her flanks and rear.

Gritting her teeth she focused on the sickly un-living presence of her uncle up ahead, she had come this far to save him, to protect him as a Guardian of the People must – she would not be stopped now.

Crimson energy blades were arcing toward her, bolts of yellow energy at the speed of sound about to strike as the universe entered slow motion a micron from the edge of her armour as dis-reality that cocooned her for precious seconds in her own temporal reality until she could fully channel her protective emotions into the hormonal and aetheric overdrive of Aephordaea’s Grace.

Just as Valens was shifting to take the brunt of the Banshee’s Screech Ari proved she didn’t need his rescue.

A wave of near white purple energy drilled through the centre of the Screech and into a halo all around Ari’s body.  The blades and blaster bolts fizzled and dissolved into it as the broken jawed Banshee was hurled back by the beam of aetheric energy.

Illuminated from within to an extent that made her purple sabers blades seem the darkest thing upon her, Ari turned into a precise flurry of impossibly accurate and perfectly time strikes against every Wraith within her reach – and a few outside as clean white purple bolts struck them with incinerating fury.

As quickly as her enormous burst of power had come it was gone replaced by an all over tingle as the Shades advanced and the Banshee, injured by not defeated, reared up under the necromantic power of the Revenant.

Within an instant they were engaged fully in vicious bouts – Valens directing the two Shades and remaining Wraiths to him, the Banshee, jaw cracking back into place rose on the Force, her gaunt bones seemingly too weak to carry such weighty robes, the plethora of ink from tattoos appeared half her body weight.

But such frailty was only in physical form, in the aether she was titanium - the coalesced energies of innumerable victims to power her desire for immortality.

Ari charged her head on, kinetic blasts and shots from her blasters hovering behind her head softening the Banshee’s guard before they met.

The unstoppable force of Aethan strength was ground against the unrelenting revivification of the Revenant, as hard as they broke the comparatively frail human bodies their necromantic arts sewed them back together with equal violence and snapping wet crunches of bone knitting.

Valens, no stranger to fighting outnumbered, methodically ruined the Wraiths with sword, fist and lighting while keeping the Shades distracted with non-crippling but painful blows that forced them to draw on their powers to repair.

Ari found in the Banshee a viciousness and formidable strength that cackled and cursed – whatever initial Screech attack she had used was obviously – for the time at least – depleted, but in her heightened senses Ari knew she was re building to launch another such blast.

Ari did nothing to frustrate it – every ounce of aetheric power the Banshee stored for another blast later was one less to counter Ari’s fusillade of strikes now – Ari had no intention of letting her live long enough to make use of her screech again.

Ari fought the creature with all she had. 

Creature was all it was for it seemed too far twisted to be humanoid any longer, and its status as either living or dead seemed ambiguous – it simply was – a hideously imperfect mode of immortality that tried to keep a body with natural genetic redundancy alive indefinitely and paid a terrible price for it.

She hammered physically with her blades and speed, countered by the incongruent strength of bone like arms, mentally with blades of metaphysical energy as she had the captured shade, but this creatures mind was barely existent, and the parts that were active in a conventional sense so fanatical as to be beyond confusion or damage.

Aetherically Ari’s lighting and kinetic blasts were expertly diverted, but the Banshee seemed unable to deliver counter attacks.

Forgotten around them medical equipment rigged for unnaturally lengthening life and studying the miraculous Subject was turned to so much scrap, stray bolts of lightning blasting brain jars apart frying the oblivious Bo’marr Enlightened within.

Aresaea tore furiously against the Banshee, all the strength and technique her teachers had given her on display, the dexterity of Kiraea, the brutal efficiency of Jarys, subtlety of Saani, and considered positioning of Kazic.  It did little good as again and again it simply refused to die or relent no matter the damage she seemed to inflict.

If she broke a leg it would knit an arm, if she severed a hand it would reattach a foot, the incessant nature of its revival was frustrating beyond measure.

For a brief moment Ari’s cold calculations considered the possibility the Banshee might actually have greater aetheric endurance than her – or at least equal.  The concept of a mere human exceeding Aethan Aetheric endurance seemed impossible till she realised the true source of the power.

All about her the Brain jars were blinking out lights as the Banshee and Shades drew life energy from the indifferent disembodied monks, slaughtering them by the dozen per second – the hundreds of rows of alcoves obviously flowing backward into the structure with ever more ranks of the ‘Enlightened’. It was industrial scale Life Drain upon the Bo’marr.

Ari’s choices were laid before her – try and overcome the Banshee with her own power, a test of raw strength, or use her skill in the Arts to pre-empt the Revenant and Drain Life from all the Bo’marr, or simply kill them, before they could harvest anymore life energy…

The first seemed unlikely to win, the latter would achieve victory in a way that gave truth to the xenophobic parasitic reputation of Aethan cultural regard for Outsiders.

It meant there was only one path to victory.

The Banshee’s wild saber, curved hilt moving like water between fingers with expert grace, sliced heated fissures into Ari’s armour as she closed feeling the Screech nearing readiness for a second wave. 

Ari shut off her sabers.

The momentary puzzlement on the Banshee allowing Ari to leap forward and grab the Banshee in a bear hug just as the jaw distended to deliver another screech straight to Ari’s face that would undoubtedly have broken her helmet and likely her skull besides.

The Screech died in the necrotic creature’s throat as Ari pulled and pushed the aether into a Null field about her.

One of the most potent trump cards an Aethan possessed, it stripped Ari of her aetheric powers, but it denied her enemy as well, and put them at the mercy of Aethan genehanced strength and speed.

Arms wrapped around in a hideous embrace Ari squeezed the Banshee as she head-butted forward again and again pulping and crushing the creature beyond any ability to restore.

The body slopped between her arms leaving a trail of black rotten blood on Ari’s armour.  But she would not let it fall – hauling it up she proficiently tore it limb from limb, breached the rib cage and yanked decayed organs ruined from dozens of revivals out piece by piece.

Heaving out Ari sunk to her knees amidst the ruin of the body, a Null field sustained for even thirty seconds took all her energy.

The sparking detritus of the medical equipment, broken cables and spider droids running frantically to and fro the chaotic background as she sought peace.

Valens lifted his boot from the ashen mess of the two Shades, their resilience had proved formidable – but they could not out heal flesh turned to carbon by aetheric flames. 

He looked somewhat worse for wear, fatigued from pounding out extreme volumes of fire, but was otherwise uninjured.

He strode forward less firmly than usual to kneel beside her. Ari’s armour was soaked in the blood of the Banshee gradually repelled by the Blackstone. 

Outside the main chamber were still the thvump’s of blasters and hiss of amphistaffs…usually followed by the screams of infidels fallen into fanatical Yuuzhan Vong hands…but now also the occasional drone of sabers as Milaea and Sofa tidied up.

Beyond tired Ari half leaned half flopped into Valens as he wrapped his arm around.

<<<<>>>>

“Fools, they seek to immortalise bodies not capable of such longevity in the first place,” Valens noted derisively some fifteen minutes later, the last of the Revenant lackies who had tried to flee getting to viscerally experience what Yuuzhan Vong Warriors whose matra was ‘Attack, Attack, Attack’ thought of cowards.

Their Extra Galactic allies now contented themselves by taking gruesome trophies and setting up mangled totems o their foes as warning to other enemies of the Avatars of the Gods.

“They don’t have much choice, they are the bodies they are born in….” Sofa trailed off at the irony given her own ageless body was not exactly the one she had been born to

“Their research was starting to make significant progress…” Milaea noted reviewing the logs

“…they’d cracked a few of our immune and wound binding sequences and how they interact with the aether, they were working on a retro virus to implant it into their own DNA…”

“Like the one we saw them testing on Nar Shadda…could it ever actually work?” Sofa asked

Milaea shut the laptop screen gently.  Then with a light touch of the aether severed the molecular bonds holding it together turning it to dust.

“I don’t think so, even if they have a back drives off world, without Tarasens body they won’t be able to progress any further… and like you saw the most likely result would be extreme cancers as the aethan half cells won’t know when to stop healing without a full range of chemical signals from other cell types,”

“Cross species genetic splicing is riddled with such difficulties…” Ari noted finally standing

“Saani and Kazic tried so long to have a child by modifying sequences, but Twi’leki and Anzat genes…”

Milaea quickly approached her hands on her shoulders, Mili’s aetheric vision probing her all over for injuries

“You need some rest, why don’t you head back to the ship and…”

“No, this my quest, I must finish it myself, and there is no time to lose, more Revenant could arrive any minute,”

As her overseer in the trial Valens now stepped forward

“We’ll get the Extolled out and take anything of value you place in that corner,” he pointed the location

“We leave in half an hour, make sure to remove all trace of our presence,”

Ari nodded and began rapidly checking the various scattered computers and drives, a handful of odd aetheric artefacts with skull motifs, or vile runes no doubt used in their aetheric revival techniques.

Of most interest was a hand written tome which Milaea quickly picked up and flicked through, excitement budding around her,

“What is it?”

“A Treatise of revivification…like our Necromancy and Sith Alchemy in essence…” her fingers moved the pages back and forth

“But distinct…a third way…”

Milaea’s voice became a hopeful whisper

This is the last piece

“Last piece of what?” Air asked curious at Milaea’s sudden change in tone.

“To…something I’ve been working on we can discuss it back on Aethas…”

Ari accepted the reply with a shrug and headed toward the largest of the vats where the rest of her uncles body existed in a perverted artificial life, cables and tubes piercing the skin in purple bruises that would never heal.

Her mouth dropped at the vile sight, and the necessity of what she had to do.

Her hand wavered...then balled into a fist…with succinct slashes she sliced the external cables, red warning lights blinkered out, then pierced the main shell of the tank.

The amino fluid gushed out over her arm, wetting the floor with gluggy slickness.

Delicately she removed the IV’s from the body, trying to avoid looking at the bloated face of a man dead so long then dredged up so unwillingly.  It was not how she wanted to remember Tarasen.

She imagined the man he had been, carrying her on his back, patiently teaching her how to carve, cook, hunt, a simple man who had done his best after a devastating trauma, and deserved far better than what these Outsider had done to him.

The others were all gone apart from Valens just outside the door as Ari cradled the body as if he were still alive.

One last task remained in this place.  Summoning the Null Orb from her bet she plotted the path it had to take with her mind.

The chance was low, but as a Guardian of the People, she could not take the risk.

Like a laser guided missile the Concealment Orb sped under her telekinetic control into and through every alcove of the large room, shattering every single brain jar and slicing the aether from the Bo’marr within for a brief second that purged any trace of them.

She had not used their life energy to power herself, in that she was proud, but if they had sensed or recalled anything it could endanger the People. That could not be permitted.

The Orb swept the room eating the aetheric traces of the People with it, anyone who flow walked here would see only perplexing deaths of Revenant and Bo’marr against blank air.

Its vast orbits complete, Valens having cleaned the other rooms and corridors, he held out two more devices as he caught the now full Orb.

These two were also spheres but of a very different make.

Taking them up with her mind she rolled the two Chiss Plasma Detonators behind her.

Heat of the incinerating blasts washed her back as she left this place forever.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 19, 2020, 12:31:42 AM
Chapter 18 — Ari’s Quest — Crusade — Part 6
The Old One

This was a major set back.

Or would be if he thought in such terms.

When one lived for millennia, such things were not even irritations anymore, they were mere steps along the path way.

Boerin had been purged. Teth incinerated.  At neither location had the scouts found any trace of who was responsible.

Kadmaur knew of course, it was the same species as that of the body they were studying found on Yavin years before.  This generation of Revenant had sunk much into it’s study…too much…

The retrovirus he had last been updated on had potential, but also danger now there was no template to work off of, the genetic sample defied sequencing by conventional bio-medical software.  Of course he would test it, but was not confident it would produce useful results.

Sitting in the centre of what had been the Great Chamber of the Enlightened, now ruined with the ancient stone blocks gluggy and still reeling from the heat of plasma based explosives, he wondered if he should investigate this strange species further…their abilities were certainly unique, their tactics surprising, and their motivations…unusual but intriguing.

And a final piece of the puzzle he sensed beneath the warped floor.  A single marble sized piece of ultradense material even he had rarely encountered.  It was expertly concealed he had to admit, few other beings would have sensed it.  But its message was clear, We are Watching Still.

Stroking his long white beard he pondered for many hours before resolving that, in the short or medium term even, this was not a species he would profit from any further encounter with.

They had retaken the body, claimed what they considered theirs. Let them.  He would take no action, and agree to their unspoken offer of a truce.  If they wished to pursue hostilities he was certain the Ziggurat on Taris would already be under assault.

Rising nimbly for his age – if such a dating scheme even had meaning to him – he wandered out of the ash coated room.

In time the Bo’marr would return, they always did.

In time the Revenant would rebuild – they always did.

In time he would remain to watch it all.

He always Was

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea
(https://i.ibb.co/Ybg2Krj/Ari-glow.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Ybg2Krj)
Aetheric blue candles lit the way to the alcove.

The linens normally so warm were cool on her skin as she carried her uncles body, reassembled as best she could, to his final place of actual rest.

Lovingly carved funerary totems upon his chest, small baskets of grave goods on the rock, she lowered him into the waiting freshly carved space.

Tarasen would finally be at peace here, undisturbed with his ancestors, friends and other family brought physically to the Goddesses as well as his spirit.

Her face shadowed by the blue glow Ari knelt beside the alcove gently closing the freshly woven curtain.

In finding him she had found herself as well, remembered that she was, and could be many things at once.

She could be both the child of Aethas, dedicated to her culture and People, and the daughter of a Twi’leki and Anzat as well.

She could respect Outsiders beliefs, enjoy learning from the varied cultures as the Taijitu and rainbow about her neck represented, and hope with Milaea in a future where all species could live in peace without suspicion or fear.

But like Sofa and Kazic she need hold no illusions that such noble ideas could overcome individual selfishness.

As a Guardian of her People, just like Kiraea, Jarys and Valens, she would, until such time as that multicultural Idyll could be reached, eliminate with neither regret nor remorse those that had, did, or would threaten her Family – all her Family, past present and future.

She could miss Galtea, but enjoy being on Aethas, question - critique even - both cultures – one that strived to be better, and one that could never admit it was wrong - and pick and choose what she made of herself from both.

It was dawn by the time she left the catacombs finding a small group waiting patiently for her, all of whom saw clearly the serenity with which Aresaea walked from the cavern entrance adult and a Guardian.

Valens approached her first affirming her completion with a firm embrace, Jarys followed then Kiraea who peppered her with kisses and presented a specially fashioned Triquetra – Blackheart inlaid with Aephrodaean Diamonds – the first material able to store four normal or two very powerful enchantments that the diamonds would amplify. 

It was left blank for her to imbue as she saw fit.

The last waiting for her was Milaea with a smile warmer than the morning sun

“How do you feel?” Mili asked

“Calmer, stronger…but…tired,” Ari laughed she had not had a fully six level sleep cycle since setting out on her Quest.

“Of course, take some time to rest, visit the others, visit the Caverns, and when you’re ready there is something I’d like your help with,”

“I’d be glad to, thank you Mili for coming with me, and more than that for…”

The women just smiled, the meaning flowed on a private connection between the friends better than words ever could.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on October 19, 2020, 05:44:36 PM
OUTSTANDING!!!

So, SO much goodness going on here; let's sort it all out:

VERY satisfying seeing Ari's beliefs buoyed by her ascension to Guardian, and in no small part thanks to Mili!  Excellent arc where we see not only self-actualization on Ari's part but also her decision to balance a leg in both cultures--Aethan and her Adoptive Parents--while creating something unique to her character.  And yet, she still has to confront her uncertainty concerning the future (at least now she's accepted her morality as a barometer by which she can navigate future adversity).  This is the very reason that Ari is one of my favorite characters (of course, I'm sure that LSG trusting me with her in my own story has nothing at all to do with that  ;)).

On a serious note: I think that the friendship between Ari and Mili is also indicative of another facet of the Aethans: in this case, the 3 goddesses.  As Sofa and Valens posit the fact that Mili is DEFINITELY one, the more we see of Ari (e.g. the purple lightening) we now see why she is also such a powerful force (no shameless plug intended, but I'm reminded when Ari faced Anson and his dozen Sentinels; she was able to freeze them all in place, the first instance where we see her under the influence of Aephrodaea’s Grace).  Good thing too: that Shade was one tough opponent...

Speaking of which: this was an excellent reminder of just HOW dangerous the Revenant are!  Considering that a strike force consisting of two goddesses/avatars, a goddess killer, and their retinue of berserker, battle-lust Vong commented upon the Shades and Wraiths implacability, it speaks to just how powerful they are/were (that Banshee Shriek was unexpected...and awesome  ;)).  And--of course--above/behind it all watches Kadmaur... Again, this was such a natural inclusion of him, to say nothing of his Revenant during these times  :)

It was especially satisfying to see Tarasen finally given proper rest.  After all, had it not been for her Uncle, who knows where Ari would have ended up?

The only complaint that I've got is: the next chapter can't come soon enough  ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on October 20, 2020, 12:52:25 AM
An excellent finish to Ari's quest.   Well done indeed.  She will be a powerful and just Guardian of the People.

LSG, I love the richness you're building into these folks.  It is not mere embellishment, but true world-building.  I am very intrigued by Milli's find ... and its implications.

And Dutch is right: The next installment cannot come to soon.  :-)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 17, 2020, 01:01:52 AM
 
Chapter 19 — Trials — Methods Part 1
Xanaea
(https://i.ibb.co/9TNfRvz/Xan-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/9TNfRvz)
With a half sigh she wandered about the quiet dark of the caverns of Aephrodaea, small blue aetheric candles ensconced in the bloodstone wall.

It hadn’t been very long…but it felt like a long time.

Everyone else was busy on the ships in orbit, Aunt Selaena had told her what was happening when she left her here, the safest place on the planet where the Goddesses would protect her.

Aresaea was on her Guardian trial far away and had gotten attacked by what Aunt Sel called ‘indefatigable necrotic outsiders’.  Xani wasn’t sure exactly what that meant but it sounded dreadful.

There were still a few days before Ari’s trial was over and she was on her way with Mili, Sofa and Valens to a place called Teth to try and stop the fight..or win it, Xani wasn’t’ sure…

Regardless if things didn’t go well then Kiraea, Melron, Taryn, Kassyndra, Maeson and Jenaea would go to help them on Teth, while Jarys, Aunt Sel, Lyaea, Adaea and Lydan went to a place called Taris to deliver what Kiraea called an ‘Undercity bunker buster’ and a ‘Terror Bomb’ – the latter Xani had briefly seen, it was like an orb but it was a kind of mirror all around. Apparently they only had two and Milaea had strongly objected to making any at all, saying it was too close to what Lucovis had used on them.

All in all it meant everyone else was waiting for a signal to go to fight the nasty outsiders….and Xani had to wait in the caverns.  Lydan and Maeson had left plenty of food, Adaea had left a bunch of books and orbs for her to read and study….but still…

Xani enjoyed walking outside in the valley so much, it was so much nicer than the under levels of Carratos had been, being in the caverns reminded her a bit of them, because it was so dark and closed in.  And he wished she could help Ari and the others.

Sighing she paced back and forth past the old shrines, rugs and totems, closing then opening her eyes as if everyone would suddenly be back and she could play and wander outside again when she opened them.

Strangest of all was a restlessness in her arms and legs that she should[i/] be doing something important to help – but she didn’t know what…she wasn’t old enough to fight, she could help bring people things – food, ammunition – and she was getting better at healing from Kassyndra’s lessons….

“You can help Xani,”

The voice was sudden and velvet in her ears as  light came from behind her purple and red,

Mouth wide in astonishment but feeling no fear only safety in the sacred cavern Xani turned around to see the speaker.

She was hard to make out, but it was clearly a she from the curved figure, purple light beamed in a frame around her form turning near white at the very edge of the body that seemed etched in glowing red.

“Aephrodaea?”  Xani asked, after all who else could it be in the sacred cavern that would appear so suddenly and look so divine,

“Xani this is very important and will help the People greatly, I need you to listen carefully and do exactly what I tell you,”

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea
(https://i.ibb.co/4MZ8BzQ/TERMINATOR-THE-SARAH-CONNOR-CHRONICLES-Cameron-Summer-Glau-reassures-John-in-the-Born-To-Run-season.jpg) (https://ibb.co/4MZ8BzQ)
Ivory and silver chimes played gentle tunes as winter winds wafted them at the mouth of the cavern, the waterfalls frozen white drapes either side. Despite the frost on her skin she took her clothes off – this was a sacred space – and replaced them with a thin white hand woven chiton. 

As she entered further it got warmer and warmer, the geothermally heated pools closer with each step down.

The main chamber was completely carved from Bloodstone, lit by blue aetheric fires, the combination painted pinks and purples throughout that had a fleshy hue – intentional this was the sacred space of Aephrodaea.

There were gormin fur rugs all about, handmade cushions and pottery decorated with fertility scenes of the Goddesses making love, teaching their daughters, a scent of honey kept in small pots for ritual body painting and pheromones from the women who had visited recently. 

All of the other women’s scents were here, even thin tastes of some long since lost to them.

The strongest belonged to the woman sitting on one of the small raised areas gently carving a piece of Bloodstone into a diorama of Aephrodaea lighting the flame of the sun.

Aresaea didn’t want to bother her while she was concentrating so sat on a rug nearby.

“Thanks for coming…” Milaea whispered as thin trails of light curved from her fingers.

 “My pleasure…” she said with a slight squeak, Milaea was very beautiful, and always made Ari feel…well she wasn’t quite sure.

Milaea finishing up placed the diorama down then got up and stretched out, Ari couldn’t help but look beneath the thin cloth to the curve of her body, the touches of pink against alabaster skin…

If she noticed her gaze she didn’t say anything, simply wandering down to sit next to her, reaching out to hold her hand in a gesture of connection and support.

“How are you Ari, now you’ve had some time to reflect on things,” Milaea inquired

It had been just over two weeks since she had laid Tarasen to rest, after the requisite purification from returning off world and some time spent with Kiraea discussing events, -not to say convincing the elder Aethan woman not to launch a full scale war against the Revenant – she had spent some time wandering the valley on her own as it came into winter, stopping off to assist Maeson and Jenaea with the orchards and kilns, and Lydan with the Gormin – things that were settling and homely.

“Better, it was good to have some time off after…”

“I can imagine,” Milaea smiled not needing further explanation

“…there was something I wanted to talk to you about…an idea I’ve had for a while, reading through the Revenant texts you recovered I was able to fill in a few missing pieces…and then there is you…” Milaea looked at her very deliberately

“Me?”

“Well Adaea says you’ve already mastered Blackstone enchanting and have a good understanding of the Obelisks, faster than anyone else,”

“Well…I don’t know about mastered….”

“Don’t sell yourself short…” Milaea reached out and summoned an orb – not Blackstone as was typical but pure red Bloodstone.

“Here…feel this…”

Ari nodded, implicitly trusting her, and reached out with the aether…the stone was…full…pregnant with an essence, a personage etched deeply in like compressed strands of DNA, strong, familiar…

“It’s you!” she delved further, “It’s a reflection of your personality…” as she got further she saw flashed, a large hallway, smiling male face and dark haired young woman playing with her…these were…

Ari shut herself off

“Sorry those are your memories…”

“No no…” Milaea held her hand once more, “I want you to see…see how much is in there…how much we can fit in…”

Ari’s brow furrowed as it so often did when thinking hard – this was more than clinical facts they usually recorded more like a…

“…a Holocron…but more…” she said out loud, “I saw them with the Vahl Dan…and…other things on Yavin, where Naga Sadow was embedded, and Exar Kun…similar but distinct methods to hold Sith essences…”

“Now you see why I wanted your help, you know lots of different ways to lock in a personality and memories to an object.”

Ari nodded slowly

“But why…as Saani says you need to know the end goal to know where to start…”

“That is a longer story…” Milaea replied shuffling back to lean more comfortably and gesturing for Ari to do the same.

“You know the Blackstone Altar can hold someone’s Aetheric Essence for a long period…it works perfectly to ‘store’ someone when their body is being enhanced like Sofa….but it degrades overtime…Aethena was in one for nearly 700 years and was too fragmented to recover fully, leaving me with only scatters of her memory, the rest started seeping into the aether after about 5 years at a rate of around 0.25 per cent. “

Ari didn’t quite understand where this was headed.

“But from my fight with Lord Yn and help by Eilaea and Aydyn in the past I know that an essence can be transmitted across time into another body, or at least Lord Yn certainly believed it was possible and tried to take Eilaea’s body by force, a variation on how Xithar put himself into Lucovis body….so…”

“So you think we can combine the two methods!”
Ari’s eyes sparkled with possibilities as she pieced together what Milaea intended

“Use the storage mechanism of the Blackstone…but avoid the degradation by combining it with a kind of Temporal distortion to link back to a person while they are still in their body…”

Ari paused parsing through the concept, Milaea never taking her eyes off her, though occasionally wandering down her figure rather than face.

“That is…extraordinarily complex…to get the combination of elements right…you’re working with time, astral projection, body/soul dislocation….”

“I know that’s why I need your help with it, Technocracy methods preserve fidelity of the essence highly accurately but only for short periods, but you learned things from watching Naga Sadow about how to preserve an essence over centuries with high fidelity…We also have Xithar’s writings we looted from the Almas Fortress to supplement Technocracy methods of infusing a body with an essence again…and just as importantly artificially stimulating growth of a body – the Revenant text you found is actually an annotated copy of an older Sith document upon which Technocracy methods were originally based, I never imagined a copy had survived so long.”

Ari noted a strange absence of worry in Milaea, given Xithar had used such mechanisms to create his own Aethan body she’d have thought Milaea would be unwilling to investigate using such Sith Alchemy.

“You’re surprised?” Milaea asked

“Well a little, I thought Sith alchemy was too…Dark side oriented for you to feel comfortable with,”

Milaea nodded slightly

“20 Aethan clone babies died from Xithar using these methods on them…he wrote down what he learned…I don’t want their deaths to be any more in vain…” 

Her voice was firm, Ari beginning to realise once Milaea set her mind to something she would pursue it with little compunction as to the means like any other Aethan…it was only on reflection Milaea would in un-Aethan fashion regret it.

“I understand,” Ari replied

Milaea summoned over another object to Ari’ hands, it was a ruby…no diamond – pure carbon formed around a deep red fluid…it was…

“Your blood and cells…diamond from your own bodies carbon…” she quickly looked Milaea up and down, noting one of her toes was slightly smaller – regrowing

“Milaea you shouldn’t do that!”

“It was a necessary test…”

Ari could feel genuine contrition and determination, still it made her feel uneasy to think Milaea had hurt herself…and recalled Kiraea telling her how willing Milaea had been to sacrifice herself on a number of occasions against Lucovis – it was a worrying trend, and though regrowing a toe for Milaea who had reconstructed Lydan from a cybernetic mess was trivial…. 
If Ari had a role apart from technical assistance, it was perhaps to make sure Milaea’s focus on the outcomes didn’t lead to her doing something that would harm herself.

“Milaea,” Ari’s protective tone
“You shouldn’t hurt yourself, shouldn’t be doing experiments like this alone…these are very dangerous concepts, time, necromancy, accelerated artificial growth…blending Technocracy, Sith Alchemy and Revenant mechanisms…”

Ari suddenly stopped as she realised she had Saani’s chiding tone in her voice, her upset so sudden and so strong.

“Well if you help me…then I won’t be alone,” Milaea replied contritely, Ari’s remonstration somehow hitting harder than anyone else’s would have.

The tension between them uncomfortable Ari probed further.

“So what is this all for, is it a means of creating a way for us to cheat death by having a Blackstone device to send our aura awaiting another Aethan to place us in a new body?”

“Ultimately yes, though I hope we never need it” Milaea replied
“But first we need proof of concept…I don’t think anyone is going to volunteer to be killed…And that is where the next complication comes…”

She strode toward the mouth of the cavern, the gossamer thin loose robe clinging precariously against the outside evening winds which were picking up.  Her green eyes stared out into the darkened valley looking not at the now but at Then

“I think there might be a way to resurrect some of our People, a handful perhaps of the strongest Guardians who died in the Devastation,”

Ari’s eyes widened, the scope of such a task was…well beyond anything she had envisaged Milaea might be planning. 

Necromancy was part of the Rites they both knew, but the Arts taught immediacy in uses, reviving recently dead bodies to fight as zombie thralls, or using near dead blood cells to power curses and spells, reviving People dead for decades…

It seemed impossible, and yet, Ari truly believed if anyone, Milaea was the person who could do it.

“It won’t be easy,” Milaea went on
“Not only do we have to develop the mechanism we somehow have to communicate with the Aethans in the past....my experience with Flow walking….”

Milaea thought back to Nar Shadda, trying to save her mother Cilina from dying in the past, ripping at the fabric of space time to do so.

“…is that we can’t create a temporal paradox, we can only communicate with People in a way that doesn’t alter the timeline dramatically…a small pebble in the river of events…”

“Didn’t Valens try to revive Cilina and Shilea and couldn’t manage it?” Ari inquired recalling something Kiraea had said

“Yes, it was because their essences were too fragmented and deep in the aether to pull back together, the storage in a Bloodstone orb and transfer across a Temporal wormhole of sorts will compensate for that.”

“So…the plan is to develop a means of storing an essence better than the Blackstone Altar’s and that works across time, Communicate with Aethans before they die without creating a paradox, get them do what they need to transition across, then generate new bodies for them using their DNA in Blood Crystals and Xithars and the Revenants rapid growth methods, then place them in those bodies using Technocracy and Lucovis methods perfected to cope with a fully adult Aethan soul….”

Ari’s head was near spinning already

“There are so many components in each step that might simply not be possible…” Ari sighed

“…I guess we’d better get this Project Persephaea Started” she finished with a smile that Milaea could only match at the name for their little task, after the famous saga of Persephaea’s journey beyond the Styx to the underworld and back again.

The exact story differed depending on who retold it, some said she went there after her lost love, others she was abducted into the underworld by a jealous suitor, but the essence, of returning alive from the land of the dead was always the same.

“Very fitting, to Project Persephaea!”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 17, 2020, 01:02:31 AM
Chapter 19 — Trials — Methods Part 2
Visits
(https://i.ibb.co/7bZZrwY/Taryn-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/7bZZrwY)
Still.

Calm.

Quiet.

All the things his life had never been.  Things he strangely feared.

Taryn sat, or rather hovered, over the glacial plain devoid of anything but snow and the occasional rock.  All the better to clear his mind and get over his discomfort at being in still spaces.  After so many years in the crowded noise of a destroyers belly tranquillity of any kind was unnerving to him

The only ‘tranquillity’ he experienced in his previous life had been dead floating in the void.

He was meant to be waiting for the Old Man to come back, and stay elevated and motionless with the aether until he did. 

It was all about learning to ‘channel his abundant energy’, ‘find focus amidst the storm’ or some such nonsense.

All he felt was bored.

“What’chya dooin?”
And just like that he on the ground being pummelled by a pile of formerly levitating stones as his concentration was broken all too easily.

“Frag….” Taryn coughed out the grey gravel dust of the steppe as he looked up to see Xani looking at him perplexed.

“Practicing flying still working on my landing,”

“Oh well maybe you shouldn’t have rocks above your head falling with you?”

“Yeah maybe…” he sat up
“What brings you all the way out here nibblet?”

She looked straight past and behind him

“I came to talk to you Melron,”

As if from nowhere the old man strode out of the endless rock and lichen strewn plain, past Taryn he sat on one of the recently fallen rocks.

“What can I help you with Xanaea?”

Visibly righting herself to stand tall in keeping with the importance of her task she began.

“I was wondering about the old Guardians, the ones before the Devastation and what happened to them?”

Inured to the haphazard things the curious girl asked Melron suspected nothing unusual.

“Hmmm well I knew them all, was there something particular you were curious about?”

“Hmmm what they did before the Devastation, in the week before maybe…”
She had to remember she was meant to be doing a detective work
“…what was day to day life like for them that is,”
That should be enough cover.

“Well myself, Karintha, Andis and Taran were with the young ones, well they were young then – Valens, Jarys and Yorna - arranging their trials,”

Xani knew from her other special conversation with Aephrodaea only one of those could work.

“Tell me about Yorna and her trial,” she tried to keep from sounding too excited.

“Well that was Taran setting it up, Yorna was a smart girl, kind always helpful and industrious, did what was right no matter what, determined but sometimes she could be a bit cautious so Taran had her go to the Cavern of the Goddess of the Hunt to test her, learn to trust in herself more.”

“A cavern….is it rich in blood stone,”

Melron shook his head

“Blackheart I believe, only women are allowed in of course, I don’t know where it is, only Karintha and the older women guardians did…”

“When Yorna came back was she doing anything special…making something…”

It was rather confusing, and somewhat funny she was keeping secrets from all the adults, it seemed all backwards but Xani had no doubt the goddesses were being clever about something.

“I only met up with them on the way to the gathering, Karintha and Yorna were chatting about an orb…” he cycled through his eidetic memory

“Yes the were coming through the trees rather than along the road …I just overheard the end of the conversation Yorna said ‘…Kiraea will know where it is’ didn’t pay it much mind back then”

Now Xani was very excited but kept her best detective face on.  If Melron didn’t know where the cave was she would ask directly.

“Aertemisaea where is your cavern?”

Not missing a beat Xani had directed the question roughly between the two men.

Taryn, spun round feeling all of a sudden there was someone else here on the empty steppe he couldn’t quite account for.

Melron’s eyes glistened in joy to see the directness of the young girl’s connection to their Goddesses.

For a few moments there was silence so far as the men were concerned.

“Good idea,” Xani said then turned back to Melron.

“Thank you Melron, I’m going to find the cavern, but it might be dangerous, Aertemisaea says Taryn should come to look after me,”

As much as Taryn gave his intellectual assent to the idea of the Goddesses, and was in no doubt there was something sentient about the aether on this world, this was getting a bit weird.

He looked wide eyed at the old man.

“Well off you go son,”

<<<<>>>>


 
Theory
A curved stylus in hand Milaea stood before a large blank piece of stretched Obryus, a reed that grew at the Valley Rivers mouth mulched and pressed into paper.

In her simple traditional off white shirt and shorts Ari tried to not look at her legs as she began writing.

“So Point 1 - A persons aetheric presence can be separated from and reattached to another body by various mechanisms of which actual death of the body is Only One as evidenced by Xithar, Sofa, and the Revenant…”

Ari nodded in agreement
“Right, death is the most common but not the only way, even Flow walking in a sense can break the attachment if taken too far, Kazic once told me of Anson’s master a Aing Tii Varel Zo who warned people could be lost between the Big Plane and the Little Pocket,” 
She giggled slightly
“Kazic never knew what it meant till I explained it to him.”

Once more Milaea knew she’d chosen the right companion – in multiple ways. But she had to press on writing.
“Point 2 an aetheric presence, or soul can be bonded to other suitable objects – living or not – that can retain the aether sufficiently.”

“As evidenced by Darth Andendu, Karness Muur, Aethena and Lucovis,” Ari filled in

“We know through flow walking you can communicate with beings past and future, and at Mount Alixaea Lord Yn proved that you can even attempt to force your aetheric presence – detached from the body as per Point 1, into another body in a different Temporal location per Point 2.”

“So Point 3 is that an Aetheric presence can move and exist independent of time and is only tied to it in so far as it is bound to a temporal physical object” Air surmised

“Right but point 4 is that detached from a physical object of some kind a presence slowly erodes into the aether, like Aethena did…sort of…”

“Sort of?”

“That’s a theory for another time…even force ghosts have a ‘lifespan’ after which they vanish, though I don’t think their experience of time is linear…more like their energy as a coalesced entity wears out after too many ‘appearances’”

Intrigued though Ari was Milaea was right they needed to focus on the now.

“Next set of facts. The technocracy developed the means to re-implant an aetheric presence into a genetically modified version of the original body it came from via the Blackstone Altars – the ‘upgrade’ method I used with Sofa.  Lucovis used a similar method but it required a Choir of darksider cultists to achieve and was done in real time rather than storing the essence…and of course there are innumerable examples of Sith trying to become immortal by infusing their Presence into an object – holocron or similar.” Milaea went on

“Like Exar Kun into the Temples on Yavin.”

“Exactly, so”
Milaea scribbled this down as well
“…from those points we know a being can move through time via objects from one body to another,”

“But,” Ari cautioned “All those methods required conscious effort on the part of the person trying to move themselves into another vessel of some kind,”

Milaea drew a line under the first four points.

“Yes now comes the next step, Point 5 we can communicate with beings in the past or future but…”
Milaea paused still raw memories of her attempts to save her mother on Nar Shadda frustrated despite her immense power briefly resurfacing.

“Point 6 we can’t do so in a way that causes a temporal paradox, the Aether baulks and pushes back at it too strongly…”

“You’re right it needs to be subtle” Ari said
“If we do it in the most minimalistic way that changes, in board sweeps, virtually nothing, then we shouldn’t need too much power…Varel Zo had a saying…”

“Another one Kazic didn’t understand?” Milaea smiled

“Ha neither did I till now!” Ari said leaning next to her and taking the stylus.

“’A single grain of sand moved between the ends of the hour glass changes the time only for one who sees it’…
I think what he meant was a tiny change can have big ramifications in an isolated system…but only to a determined observer apart from that, in the whole hourglass nothing changes.  .Aethas has been empty for years a small change here would barely alter a thing in galactic terms hmmm”

Ari pondered for a moment before jotting down her conclusion.

“Point 7 a change in the timeline must be minimal, to the point it can already have happened without the instigator being aware they actually succeeded.”

“So in a way we’ve already done it,” Milaea realised
“I suppose so, in a way…but I suspect that kind of thinking might get confusing after a while…”

Ari drew another line for the next section

“Point 8 is obvious we can reconstruct a body from cells sealed in a Blood Crystal using Lucovis, Technocracy and Revenant rapid regrowth mechanism, then via point 1 reattached, avoiding point 4 the degradation over time as much as possible,”

“Yes the Revenant technique was the last key I needed for that, it’s faster than our own but it is imprecise, those Shades couldn’t sustain life without the force after their repair, by taking their speed combined with Aethan precision to counteract negative effects.” Milaea explained

“And Point 9 is where the practical comes in, to avoid point 4 and achieve the other points we need to contact an Aethan who is not only not in this timeline –effectively dead – but also would be able to create a device and understand how to send their presence to it just before they ‘died’….and we need to know the when and where they were in the past to actually flow walk to talk to them…and hope they believe us”

Ari nodded, “It would have to be one of the Guardians, they would be the only ones with the knowledge to create what was needed from our instruction, and then only one of the ones who we know died…”

“So that leaves Karintha, Yorna, Andis, Yiraea and Corbyn,” Milaea noted
“Old Andis from Jarys and Melron’s tale of his last moments vanished into the aether itself, so I don’t think we can use him…plus he was too close to Valens and Jarys trying to talk to him would risk a paradox,”

“What about Taran? He was the Guardian of my Village, Uncle Tarasens Cousin, he would know me and he lived on the other side of the Valley from Old Andis,”

Milaea shook her head
“His body was never found with the others Valens buried before Yoda arrived….”

Ari sighed sadly “I hope he survived somehow, he was always so kind…and so strong he could wrestle a voursus,”

“If anyone could survive it would be a Guardian like that,” Milaea said supportively, though both knew the chances were low, a Guardian that strong would almost certainly have found their way back by now if they had broken loose of the slavers….

“Well whoever we contact…” Milaea redirected
“Point 10 then is we need sufficient power to keep a connection strong and long enough to transmit via our Aethenaea cortices the knowledge they need across time…we’ll need to work out how much exactly – flow walking can be highly draining to establish a link, transmitting detailed instructions can only make it more so”

“We can do some tests perhaps…” Ari stepped back from the sheet reviewing the points.  The chain of events seemed simple enough, and Milaea already had a head start.

First they develop a compact Bloodstone ‘Revival Orb’ that can hold an Aethan Aura exactly over at least 25 years, perhaps even keep it in a time dilation field.

Second they find a Guardian and where they were shortly before the Devastation to communicate with.

Third they develop a way to contact them and transmit the knowledge on how to make the orb and a blood diamond and hide it…

The finally retrieve the orb and diamond containing their genetics, create a body and re-infuse them into it.

Simple as each step seemed they were littered with complexities and uncertainties, would require techniques and raw power beyond the imagining of most Force users, indeed would be considered necromancy and reckless Temporal Interference by even the Vhal’Dan, let alone the temple Jedi. 

Ari was not Vhal’Dan, Milaea was not a Jedi – and though they respected and learned from both traditions, they were People first.

“I’m not sure I can do all this…” Milaea said now face with the enormity of the task she had set herself.

We can,” Ari affirmed standing close behind her.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 17, 2020, 01:03:08 AM
 
Chapter 19 — Trials — Methods Part 3

Taryn

A tune on her lips Xanaea hopped and skipped fearlessly up the rock path on the mountain side carved by the rivulets of rain from the summit.

Taryn had absolutely no idea where she was headed, and feared neither did she, whatever divine guidance she was receiving was beyond him to see, and had her wandering straight toward the most dangerous areas of the valley where the most dangerous wild animals still roamed.

As she scrambled up another pile of water smoothed rocks, knocking more than a few into his path, he kept his senses up for any Voursus, the large ‘bear’ like animals that could reach nearly three meters and according to the Old Man smack an Aethan to the ground.

Even worse the voursus had strong but horribly subtle aetheric ability to project a feeling of serenity and drowsiness…making their prey docile and easily caught.  So far his anxiety and Xani’s ebullience assure him there wasn’t one nearby.

“You sure you know where you’re headed?” he asked, at least not puffing, that would be embarrassing to be outpaced by a teenager, though admittedly he hadn’t slept only ‘meditated’ for the last 10 days.

“No,” Xani replied honestly
“But it’s this way,” she added

For winters day it was unusually sunny and the first trickles of melt water began to muddy the ground as they got higher and higher, ever closer to the ray greysleet bluffs that could house more than a few Voursus dens.

Shaking his back to readjust the pack on his back more comfortably he plodded on behind her.

Three quarters of the way up she stopped arm wrapped around a tree to peer at the vista of the valley behind her.

“hmmm…that is their house,” she pointed down at what from here was a palm sized thatched roof amidst overgrown plots surrounded by trees on the edge of a creek.

“So it must be up here…”

A single step was all it took and his back felt as if liquid nitrogen had been injected into it.

“Hold up there Nibblet…something up there doesn’t want you to go any further.”

“Can you make it safe for a few minutes?”

“Oh yeah sure no worries,”

“Thank you Taryn!” she smiled oblivious to any sarcasm.

Against all his senses he carefully climbed the ever steeper sections of rock.

Fortunately his senses of dread began to abate, whatever fauna might’ve been here must’ve wandered off after smelling him, or deterred by the divine aura of protection Xanaea seemed to enjoy.

Reaching a flattened area before the sheer rock face he huffed out a contented sigh, there were a few low dark openings in the rock leading to hallow caverns, hopefully whatever Xani wanted was in one of them.

For now he was just happy to get a chance to sit down and catch his breath, have a rest as last.

His eyes felt so heavy, like he’d been training for years without a break…finally it seemed he was able to find the calm and stillness the old man had insisted upon up here, it was quiet, warm peaceful…

Idly he realised he was already lying on his side looking drowsily over the vista before him, warm earthy tones soothing him to….

Frell…

Mustering all the panic and anxiety he could he dredged memories of ship board alarms, ruthless child-snatchers and microtears in EV suits to jump start his panic response against the subtle soothing aura emanataing from the massive warm thing his thermal senses finally woke to behind him.

A Voursus, at least three meters tall was looming over him, a hide thick as donnium, black with grey outer coat hairs indicating a huge age, mottled by pure white stained brown where the coat had grown over old scars.

Smacking himself with the aether just like Lyaea would if he got too close he telekinetically slapped himself out of the vast paws path.

For its size the voursus was inexplicably fast, no sooner had it missed than its bac legs pushed it toward him.

There was no way with his simple bow and sword he could defeat such a creature, all he could do was draw it away from Xani and hope to the Goddesses he lost it in the lower forests.

Peeking out from a large fallen tree trunk Xani watched as Taryn duck and wove avoiding – barely the huge animals glinting blade claws before making a stumbling retreat down the side of the hill thy had just climbed.

She knew he would be fine, but wasn’t allowed to tell him that.

In the meantime she cautiously headed into the caverns that were warm against the winter cool. 

Xani made sure to keep her mind focused as the stray fur brushed against the jagged edges of the cave as the Voursus cleaned themselves retained a strong trace of their sedative powers.

There were various bones and hides of gormin and goyruts, even a few vorynx on the den floor that she deftly stepped over.  It wasn’t so different to some sections of Carratos where the dead were left to rot in the alleys.

Deeper in she traced her hand along the rock till she felt a change in the aetheric density. 

“Perfect!” now she really focused looking for the right outcropping and size of bloodstone.

As slowly and carefully as Xani was searching Taryn was frantically avoiding the now livid Voursus – Taryn had managed to hit it in the head with a large stone, but that only served to annoy it more.

Xani found her own perfect chunk delicately excising it in accordance with how Aephrodaea had shown her, looking over it she nodded content before heading outside and calling as loud as she could.

“Taryn I’m finished now,”

(https://i.ibb.co/Qdqb22z/Voursus.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)

I will be too in a moment! he would’ve said but for his lack of breath, the forest being churned behind him, he had thought the dense Obirio trees would make the voursus struggle to move, he was dead wrong, what trunks it didn’t’ deftly slide between it barged over with its size.

His arms were already sliced to ribbons by the rough stones, branches and bladed leaves, the blood only whetting the beasts appetite further.

Taryn had his fill of the running game, jolting between two large tree trunks he turned to face the voursus.

“Fine you want me, here I am!” he spread his arms round both trunks and leaned forward panting staring at the animal that no raised to its full height with a ground shaking roar.

The stench of meat and offal wafted over him as Taryn grimaced at the blast of sound.  His plan – if such could be said of the desperate move – was to use the aether - if he could – fro slam both trees down on the predator by ripping up their roots telekinetically. Of course the wild animals aetheric senses were ken as his, he would have to wait to the last possible second.

The black glassy eyes and tameless aetheric aura surveyed Taryn closely as he fearlessly stood his ground, still as stone.

He kept his mind focused, clear, on the cold, the void, detaching himself from the panic of the moment of imminent destruction that threatened to overwhelm him with anxious fire.

The voursus saw the change in demeanour, no longer panicked prey, this person had suddenly become a focused controlled opponent.

With a grudging sniff and low growl the voursus lowered itself and backed away never taking its eyes from Taryn, who despite wanting to fall face first down remained solid as a rock.

Maybe there is something to this stillness stuff Old Man

<<<<>>>>
Progress
Her eyes were getting heavy from the intense concentration, the twisting and turning of the aether amidst the bloodstone sphere, the prototype Revival Orb that took what Milaea had already made and added Temporal buffering to avoid degradation. 

Opposite Milaea didn’t seem to be as obviously tired, rather fatigued from focusing on just one thing for too long, her mind rebelling as such lack of stimulation. 

They gently shifted, moved and adjusted in congruence and at times conflict trying to get it right…their minds melded with two blackstone memory orbs from the old technocracy…an over mind learning and adapting trying to perfect the design. 

“Hmm…I think we should rest,” Ari said “We’ve got it to a stable place for now…”

“Uhhh you’re right…” Milaea flopped back onto the rug their connection dissolving “my butt hurts from sitting so long…want to go for a walk,”

“Eat first…” Ari suggested.

They grabbed some of the Nerf chunk stew they had brought...it wasn’t anywhere near as nice as gormin…but it would be years before the herds were big enough to start using them for meat again.

“I still think…” Milaea said conversationally “We should improve our cuisine…throwing everything into a huge pot is efficient…but I can’t say it is always appealing…” she looked at the thick brown steaming mix   

Ari shrugged “hmmm no one on Galtea seemed to like it…”

Milaea’s mind pressed on hers, “You miss it there?”

“Not the planet…just the people…I worry about what will happen with Anson and Kazic…and Saani…but…” she sighed and groaned at the same time…

“This is my place,”

Milaea paused a few beats,

“I know what you mean…I miss Soryu…even Yoda…and others…but well…”

Ari nodded she knew why they couldn’t go there for a while…at least not openly…idly wondering if they would have to do the same thing to Kazic and Saani one day….as it was Kiraea still wanted to obliterate Galtea, Valens wanted to loot it…she feared they might both get their wish one day.

“We should stretch out, how about a run up the mountain!” Milaea switched them away from saddening thoughts.

It wasn’t quite a blizzard, but still a lot of snow coming down, the winters were getting colder as the terraforming proceeded over the horizon, the cold was a shock at first but they soon adapted as they jogged up the rough path. 

Milaea was quicker, but Ari was better at navigating rough terrain after years on Yavin resulting in an even heat most of the way, only the building clouds of snow and frost that chilled her nose slowed them.

It took half an hour to reach the summit by that time they were too hot to feel the cold.

“Wooo haha!” Milaea raised her arms like an athlete crossing the finish line. 

“Ahh…ooh…that was fun…oh…”

“Ha yeah…” Ari bounded up to hi-five her, their hands slapped but stayed together fingers briefly intertwining…

“ha…hmmm…” they uncomfortably pulled apart.

Atop the mountain was a small Gray-sleet shrine hidden underneath the snow, with a theatrical blow of her breath Milaea sent the snow off with the aether, streams of white into the wind.

The ¼ scale image of Aephrodaea stared down the mountain toward the valley, watching over her children, looking a little cold in her chiton. 

“We should warm her up…” Milaea said

They went around dusting off the three plinths arranged behind the statue small bowls for aetheric fires on the top.

Milaea was about to light one when Ari stopped her,

“We should do it together…She like her daughters working together…” only peripherally was she aware she just wanted an excuse to be closer to her.

Milaea smiled and hopped over, pressing close Ari could see the steam coming off her body.

Ari’s pheromones in her misty breath tickling at Milaea’s nose as she put her hand on the back of hers.

Milaea gasped a little purple tinged energy into the bowl.  They moved in easy unison, hips occasionally rubbing as they pivoted to light each in turn.

There was a strange silence beneath the electrical crackle and howling drive of snow as they paused still close, hand over hand, lingering together a little longer than was necessary.

“hmm...ah I wonder…”Ari began slowly pulling apart “…I wonder how long since anyone lit this shrine…”

She gently moved away to inspect the patina on the gray sleet trying to determine how long since someone had properly cleaned it based on the build-up of micro sand particles embedded in the ultra dense stone.

“Nearly...twenty five years…” she said as matter of fact as possible

“A long time…” Milaea replied looking out as best she could through the lull in the winds across the valley.

“I wish I could’ve seen it…the Valley the People Before….”

Ari sometimes forgot Milaea had been born just after the Devastation, she had never lived among the People at peace.

“It was calm then,” Ari explained casting her mind back and also out to share her eidetic memory with Milaea

“Peaceful, life followed the seasons, all leading up to the yearly Gathering, it was such an exciting time when all the weddings and important business was done, all the village came together to organise the next years large labours – building new bridges, new mines, choosing which areas of the forest to harvest for wood, which to leave to regenerate…everyone had a place, a role…even though…”

Idyllic as it was Ari would not hide the imperfections, Milaea would not want her to.

“Though sometimes there wasn’t enough to go around, the Valley’s resources were limited, and the dead lands beyond…the Guardians were gradually exploring looking for new places to settle,”

“Like Eilaea when she journeyed to Mount Alixaea”

“Yes, but the damage done by the Sith bombardment – of course we had no idea that was the cause – was so extensive…and our resources to colonise a new area so limited….”

Ari shook her head in mild frustration gaze still through the snow flecked winds.

“The Collapse of the Technocracy, then the Devastation of the People…it’s like there is some force in the universe trying to stop us from ever growing…”

Milaea’s mouth briefly opened to reply, but either the ice or Ari’s voice stopped her voicing a suspicion - glimpsed as she wielded the power of the Goddesses on Ord Mirit - that the paranoia of the People might be justified.

“I know it’s because our power draws other to covet it…” Ari stared up into the black clouds far above, as if she could spy the hovering Aertemisaea Class destroyers in orbit

“It’s a cycle, the stronger we become the more enemies covet our power…making us try and become ever stronger to compensate…”

She raised her eyes hope proved by the recovery of this shrine and so many People already lighting them.

“But we’ll find a way to break it I’m certain,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 17, 2020, 01:03:39 AM
Chapter 19 — Trials — Methods Part 4

Still Waters

“You’re not seriously heading there are you?”

Still covered in small cuts from the run in with the voursus Taryn could only begun Xani leading him toward the swampy still waters further down the valley by the southern mountain’s bases where loamy soil soaked up run offs from the snow covered caps rather than feeding it into a creek or river.

It wasn’t’ the swamp per se he disliked but the reptilian amphibious Vosis he was well aware resided here – he’d had more than his share of taking on the huge thick hide creatures with the Old Man.

Xani as always since their last stop was humming merrily over the bloodstone orb that occupied her constantly as she kept following an incomprehensible path forward.

“Yes that is where the cavern is, Aertemisaea told me,”

“So why didn’t we go there first?”

“I needed time to work on this,”

“And what is that anyway,”

“It’s a secret!” she said excitedly not once pausing in her stride.

A few metres further into the thick forest the smell of decay grew stronger wafting off stagnant waters, still on top and covered with enough algae to appear like grass, roiling below with Vosis and dozens of other aquatic species gnashing at each other.

There she stopped.

“It’s over there somewhere…but Aertemisaea says you should go first.”

“I’ll bet she did…” Taryn eye rolled before tossing off his pack with a sigh, heading past the thin teen.

Tentatively he stepped toward the swampy ground, where the solid ended and water began was hard to discern due to algae cover, past the swamp was the edge of the mountain itself, folds of rock creating shadowed coves in which the caverns entrance likely lay.

Ideally he could find a way across without troubling the waters and the creatures beneath.  It would require a slow patient approach to chart a path across 300 or so metres of muddy ground.

Patience was not his preferred mode of operating.

Against his nature he tiptoed along, gormin leather boots dipping in the water causing barely a ripple as he felt the eddies of motion from his genehanced vestibular senses beneath the water, thermal senses were of no use in the thick glue of the swamp water that heaved with metabolic heat against the winter cool air above.

Slowly methodically he neared the other side, a path laid out for the far lighter and more nimble Xani to follow.

Just as he felt the relief of completion his world exploded in a shower of brown green swamp water and the cold hard grip of the Vosis.

The gene-engineered descendants of Hssis from Korriban, like their progenitors their stealth abilities had been fine tuned to the point even Aethans with an affinity for all creatures on their world could barely sense them, indeed Taryn had suggest to Valens he set a dozen of the creatures - that could grow nearly 5 metres and 200 years old - loose on the equally muddy world of Nal Hutta to teach the bloated enemies of the people a lesson.

Claws and scale bladed tail wrapped round him as his eyes were filled with the chipped and mottled belly scales before the crashing cold of being taken under subsumed his senses in darkness.

A death roll in the water began as he frantically struggled.  He wasn’t worried about drowing, he had learned at barely 5 when a rupture depressurized a cannon loading tunnel that aethans did not need to breathe for several hours at a time, but rather being crushed to death.

Yet the more she struggled and twisted the stronger and strong the Vosis grip on him became seeking to eliminate all resistance from its meal.

Stillness…

He had to learn stillness, calm…

Loosening his body he gave up all fight, flopping like a hutt in above 1.5 gravity.

The Hssis grip loosed contented its prey had been thoroughly overcome by its raw reptilian strength.

Like a dancer it glided round jaw opening wide with diamond sharp teeth hungry for the uncommon taste of Aethan flesh.

Eyes wide with panic Xani felt relief rise up as the swamp suddenly exploded with raw blue aetheric fire that instantaneously evaporated hundreds of litres of water as a huge vosis, the biggest she’d ever seen was flung sky high like a reverse comet with a trail of aetheric energy beaming from Taryn’s hands.

The other denizens of the swamp were quick to react to sudden burst of energy, snapping and weaving toward the beacon of energy – for like all creatures on Aethas – the People included they fed as much on the aether as on protein and fat.

Covered in flaming energy normally Taryn would press his advantage, show off his power on the weakest to deter the strongest.  But the Vosis didn’t think that way, so he remained still, centred, waiting for them to come to him.

They were fast, and cloaked as they were lethal drawn to his display of power.

He waited them out.  He might not have the brute strength of Jarys or poised athleticism of Valens, but he could use what he did have, slightly longer limbs and a wiry strength built over years in low gravity environments now readapted to the heavy pull on this dense world, to repel the reptiles.

The first made a snap through the waters, the wave of its motion heralding the attack as Taryn kept himself utterly still.  Smooth as a nagai shyster he launched a counter punch slamming intot he side of its head, a cut on his arm as it retched back from the toothy mouth a small price to pay.

The blood excited the others to try their luck.

But each and every one he slammed back with painful if not deadly force.  Their circling of him became wider and wider as he remained the immovable axel within the wheel.

Another snap, another punch in response – a sweep of the tail met with the stomp of his foot until finally the creatures slithered silently away having their fill of being denied.

When finally out of his range of senses, and fairly certain none had cloaked themselves, his shoulders lumped as his heightened state diminished and he leapt muddy and bloody back to relatively dry land.

“Whoa you fought seven Vosis!” Xani said catching up to him wide eyed.

“Yeah feel like I did too…”  Goddesses knew he wanted to collapse and sleep, but the anxious jittering of his…friend? Ward? Sister? Indicated she wanted to conintue on their little quest straight away.

If he was going to be an Aethan guardian, a little thing like facing a voursus and seven vosis couldn’t delay him.

“…alright nibblet where is this cave.”

<<<<>>>

 
Why

(https://i.ibb.co/b2WV494/M-red-10.jpg) (https://ibb.co/b2WV494)

Deep into another evening, yellow flames burnt low in thick brown wax candles about them as they both tweaked their test orbs with flashes of purple light from numb finger tips ever few seconds.

The weary discomfort of aetheric overuse that started behind her eyes had spread over her entire had, and then curved back round again in a numb cocoon – no doubt another Technocracy innovation much like their absence of genuine pain sensation to ensure no amount of fatigue slowed her, it was still a strange sensation that had Ari idly wondering in exhaustion wavering thoughts if she might get a net gain in her aetheric stamina after so much use over the last weeks.

Placing the orb aside he looked to see Milaea still intensely focused on her own.  There was no doubting Milaea’s stamina and indeed overall capacity was well in excess of Ari’s own…but Milaea had been working harder for it, and had to be equally worn out.

Yet Milaea’s face showed complete, almost…fanatical focus on completing the enchantment sequencing for the Temporal Distortion Tunnelling.

“Why are you doing this Milaea?” Ari asked aloud

“I’m nearly finished, I think this should get a 30 year maximum span leap effect…”

“No,” Ari shook her head that though full of numbers and eldritch formulae had a strange clarity all the same that made her ask something she should’ve have days before.

“I mean why are you doing all this, pouring so much of yourself into this, working on it alone for so long, when Valens, Kiraea and Adaea could’ve helped you so much,”

An almost irritated purse of her lips Milaea gave the obvious yet unhelpful reply

“To help the People recover, try and bring back some of the Guardians like I expla….”

“Milaea,” Ari said firmly the import of the conversation helping shed her prior weariness back to focus as she swapped out conscious thought levels to those less worn.

“You know I’m not asking what are you doing but Why are You the one doing it so exclusively, so obsessively, like…you’re trying to….hmmm prove something to yourself almost”

Finally placing the orb down Milaea made no reply but to brush back her hair, somewhat frayed and unkempt given her singular focus on her work.

“You’re not going to let this go are you?” she finally said.

Ari shook her head.

“You were there to talk to, help me order my thoughts during my trial,” the darker haired woman went on

“It feels like this is your own self-imposed Trial.”

“Maybe…I hadn’t thought of it like that…” Milaea sighed, hair normally so luminous and vibrant taking on a strange darkness in the fading candle light.

“I’ve always been strong…how could it be any other way? My mother is from a family of powerful Seiors, my biological father, Jarys, generations of Guardians and himself… well…you know from your training no one can match that endurance….and then there is the power and scattered memories of Aethena…Valens attempt to protect me, save what was left of her….”

Her eyes, emerald green met Ari’s Aqua,

“I feel a…responsibility…to use the power I have to the full…like so many other have tried to use it…”

She shook her head at the unhappy remembrance of those who would try and harness her power for their own ends.

“Xithar would’ve had it make me the perfect Sith Lady, Valens the perfect new Goddess, even Soryu the ideal Jedi – it was about realising the potential I have but in a way that fulfilled their dreams not mine…”

Ari could empathize with being seen through the prism of the power she could wield and not the person she was, in many ways Anson thought he same of Ari, seeing not her not as a person but as raw power - not as resource to harness like others had seen Milaea - but a threat to be supressed.

“Now…I finally feel I’m free of that, I can make choice about who I am and what I’ll do without their influence, without the cursed visions of the futures, Kassyndra helped with that, showing me how to keep them from overwhelming me, but also encouraging me to use my power to the full – to not be held back by anything…and what I want to do is prove I can heal and create just as easily as I can destroy.”

“You’ve already proved that Mili, by restoring Lydan and Kassyndra, they were terribly injured,” Ari’s words were supportive as her smile.

“I know, but…I feel can do so much more…”

She looked away briefly to the mouth of the cavern, yet Ari felt Milaea was looking far further than Ari ever could.

“And the People need healing more than anything else, I know the scars will always be there, but before the next generation I need to make sure they are at least…”

She couldn’t find the words to articulate the psycho-socio-cultural state she was seeking to if not attain the move toward to ensure when the clones were awakened, and when the older women began having babies the echoes of past trauma were, if not removed then as limited in their ears as possible.

“I understand,” Ari placed her hand on Milaea’s arm,

“Just don’t feel you’re alone in this,”

Milaea cupped hers hand over Ari’s,

“I know I’m not,” she squeezed  “sometimes…and…this might sound arrogant…but I feel apart from things, People because of…”

my power was the unstated end to that sentence, Ari would not have said it was arrogant at all, Milaea was clearly existing in realms of the aether that Ari only glimpsed when pushing herself to the limit, where time and matter seemed malleable playthings – it was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure to feel those bastions of reality were less stable than one assumed.

“Perhaps it’s another legacy of Aethena’s memories,” Milaea explained as the conversation turned to confession of what Ari sensed were many things Milaea had kept pent up lacking anyone non-partisan she could truly open up to.

“She was in many ways alone, powerful, engineered to be perfect, subjected to so many tests and checks by the technocracy, so far above them they made Valance as a counter, she was their distant idol, and she felt it like I do,”

“What’s is it like…” Ari asked “Having her memories?”

“It’s like a holo-vid series you’ve watched so many times you know all the lines, all the characters, you’re not acting in it but you know it so well that you feel you are in it, but its incomplete some episodes are missing. When I was younger especially I’d dream about events from her life seeing out of her eyes, feeling the things she did…”


“What was she like?”

“Intense, powerful, all the things you would expect…she was the ultimate achievement, everything great and fragile of the Technocracy in one…A genius yet a dilettante playing with powers and techniques Jedi masters take decades to even reach a proficiency to try. Resilient, implacable, but fickle, manipulative and lustful, her hormones were, by accident of design, at too high a level…”

She flashed a coy smile

“Those dreams I quite enjoy…but the others…the fighting the constant experiments than had her perform to see how far she could go…”  Milaea sighed for the tragedy and heroism of her forebear’s life

“In the end she saved the People, destroyed her body, and her reward was to be locked in the altar slowly slipping away over the decades, reduced to her most base instincts, harvested with the last portion of her connection to the aether gifted to me.”

She looked about the caverns again staring beyond Ari’s view, Mili’s eyes though seemed focused on the bloodstone itself as if the ultradense strata of their world held some secret

“Though perhaps not all of her was lost, something seeped out and evolved into…” 

She shook off the thought.

“I’m not her,” Milaea said with an air of finality
“I’m not those other things people want me to be, so this is all about being my own self, who I feel right being now,”

There wasn’t anything said for a time, the silence of the occasional breath the only sound as they sat together, but Ari could feel a senses of relief from her companion, equal to what she had felt speaking to Milaea on her own trial not even a month before.

“And being here with you,” Milaea finally said

“Feels right.”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 17, 2020, 01:07:36 AM
Chapter 19 — Trials — Methods Part 5

Silent Caverns

“hmmm…” Xani peered into the shallow cavern looking for…something…she wasn’t sure what but knew she’d know it when she saw it.

The cavern of Aertemisaea had to be here somewhere…but one didn’t just ‘find it’ one had to be lead there and show they understood how to hunt or survive the wilderness of Aethas.

It was Xani’s task to find it but something had gone…not wrong…but different…and it had to be found sooner than expected, she was meant to be doing this years from now when she was old enough…but something was tinkering with things and making them different, and she hoped better.

So instead Taryn had to act as a ‘champion’ – if she remembered the word from the tales Melron would tell correctly, of when a woman who couldn’t fight for herself because she was injured or too young asked someone else to do so in her stead.  Xani had thought Lydan would be better, he was very good with all the animals, but Aertemisaea had insisted it be Taryn.

She peered into each of the jagged scars in the mountain side in turn before coming across one fronted by a large pile of rubble and a strange smell.

“Hold on there Nibblet…” Taryn warned gently moving in front of her pulling her behind him.

There was, just inside the entrance of the cavern that was etches with scars on the ground where something big had been moved back and forth a number of times, a small pile of something just inside  - organic and buzzing with kreeflecks.

He sniffed at the refuse pile, the pungent odour attracted small carnivorous and omnivorous animals with its sweet meaty accents, promising rich pickings…

Then just as whatever curious creature took a bite…Slash! the volurk that had left the pile would sweep in and turn eater into eaten before retreating back into the depths of the cavern.

“Fragg’n volurks…” he sighed
“Even Jarys, Valens and Lydan barely got out of a cavern filled with these things looking for engagement presents…their far from the usual deep caverns…”

He looked at Xani who was more curious than anything.

He didn’t need to ask, he stated it

“This is the one isn’t it?”

Xani nodded.

“Of bloody course…”

There was no way anyone could go in there until the volurks were cleared out.

Once more he felt a strange chill and the weird sense there was someone next the teenager that he couldn’t quite confirm was there.

“Aertemisaea says they are only in the outer annex, not the main cavern…”

He nodded and straightened up and considered his options, taking an honest assessment of his capabilities given his already feeling well past haggard.

“Nibblet I can’t take on these volurks alone, I’m gonna need some help,”

“I’ll ask someone,” Xani replied making sure not to show happiness that Taryn had done what Aertemisaea wanted – called for help when he needed it
“No…” he said before she could pull one of her innumerable link orbs in a waist pouch.

“I’ll ask the nerf-herder myself.” He finished with smile.

<<<<>>>>

Lydan was not long in coming to Taryn’s call, leaping and bounding over the landscape shepherds staff and bow upon his back in his roughspun hardy leathers.

Waiting for him gave Taryn some needed time to recover his strength.

“Xani, how are you?” the shepherd immediately addressed the girl as was fitting.

“I’m very good thank you! I’m looking for something secret, Taryn is helping me but he needs your help now,”

Thumbing behind him Taryn explained.

“Little Nibblet here needs to visit that cave,”

Xani, or indeed any woman’s demands needed no explanation or justification for them to obey.
“But it’s got infested by some Volurks, probably came down the mountain after the Devastation, set up a good trade picking off gobbits and the odd vorynx with their lures just past the vosis swamp over there,”
“Should we relocated them?” Lydan ever intent on protecting the fauna of Aethas asked
Xani shook her head
“There isn’t room, the population is imbalanced…”

How a teenage girl who had never seen a volurk before knew this was not even questioned by Lydan. Taryn however continued to be somewhat troubled by her utterances.

Xani, Taryn knew, truly believed she was speaking to the Goddesses on a regular basis, and certainly she was speaking to someone, but chalk it up to a lifetime in the backstabbing company of hierarchy clawing pirates, Taryn felt it might not be so benign – that someone was using the trusting child for their own ends.

For now he had no more evidence to doubt her unspoken claim of divine guidance.

“Alright nerf herder,” He called his hands on his knees standing up

“Lets sort these pale faced lurkers out,”
<<<<>>>>

Changes
(https://i.ibb.co/KK67g0t/Ari-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/KK67g0t)
“Have you considered….” Ari huffed out beneath the thin sheen of sweat of her face that melted into heavy droplets that smacked into the dirt.

She was opposite Milaea in a defensive stance – though their focus was on what they now termed ‘Project Persephaea’ - in honour of the mythical daughter of the Goddesses who returned from the underworld in the Epic tale – they always made time to keep up their exercise and training.

The more deeply red haired young woman made no response, Milaea’s hair was tied back tightly and her face equally flushed behind her perfect defensive stance. 

“…how reviving the other guardians might alter the orientation of the People?” Ari went one looking for any gap she could exploit, her feet heavy on the compacted stone.

They were training on a larges slab of rock down the river from the caverns, a ring formed around them by the glowing Grav-Enhanced between them.  The Chiss device created a 15 metre radius bubble of increased gravity, currently set at 6 times galactic standard, roughly three times Aethas own gravity, it was at the fringes of what an Aethan body could still be relatively comfortable with and still retain enough motion for sparring.  Most humanoids, notably ones with contracting hearts could barely operate at 5 times gravity.

So far the bouts had been inconclusive, Milaea’s defence learned from the Jedi Master Soryu was almost impenetrable – her main tactics Ari had discerned was to stay of the defensive while her opponent wore themselves out trying to break in – then without warning Milaea would unleash ferocious rapid assaults that would make Kiraea proud of their viciousness.   

Ari couldn’t break her guard, and wasn’t sure she could fend off another attack – she was simply glad they were training without the aether, with it Milaea would overwhelm her in seconds - so she had to find alternate distractions.

“The balance is already tentative….” Her eyes scanned the exact angles of Milaea’s shoulder relative to her hips discerning where she would likely turn for maximum force in a strike or counter.

“Valens and Kiraea are openly genocidal…Jenaea and Selaena support anything that kills outsiders….” 
She shuffled along the ground legs feeling the burn of holding up her weight under the increased gravity.

“Melron, Kassyndra, Lyaea and the others our age see outsiders mere objects of annoyance, Adaea and Lydan curiosities…Taryn victims…Jarys and Maeson only tolerate the Sons and Extolled….and Sofa is far too selfish to care so long as she gets her jewellery and furnishings…”

Just as Taryn had goaded Ari by taunting her about Saani, she attempted a similar line of attack on Milaea with Sofa. So far it seemed to have little effect.

“Any older guardians would likely be even more xenophobic, given they were actually killed by the outsiders, and the older women, Karintha or Yiraea, especially, would try and assume the role of matriarch…”

Ari focused in on another sore point, Milaea’s reluctance to take on the mantle of leader from Valens, despite her innate connection to the Goddesses making her an instinctive choice.

In spite of the Dun Moch attempts Milaea did not waver a single micron,

“…could you be damaging your hopes of finding peace between Outsiders and People if you succeed?”

These were genuine worries for Ari herself, the truth of her concern added potency enough to cause a micro expression so subtle that had ri not spent th last few weeks working so closely with Milaea she would never have noticed at all.

She acted immediately sweeping in fast, low and strong, closing the distance in less than a second, rising up to get under Milaea’s frontal guard with all the tensed power Ari’s bent knees could furnish.

Against the artificial gravity her movements were slows and comparatively weak, but Milaea faced the same environmental impediment and her response was just as sluggish. 

In seeming slow motion that was still faster than most humanoids could comprehend their gravity weighted blows and counter blows slapped out shockwaves of heavy air as skin met skin.

Milaea was well aware of what Ari was trying to do, she didn’t begrudge her that, all three levels – physical, mental and aetheric – of combat should be engaged at all times. 

She knocked back the rapid low to high strikes Ari peppered her with, trying desperately to keep the thoughts Ari had agitated from rising to the fore – failing at that Milaea ought at the very least sequestering them to just one of her six conscious levels of thought….

It left her vulnerable – as soon as she allowed her cognitive capacity to be reduced by 1/6 Ari seemingly doubled her offence speed and strength. 

For the first time Milaea was on the back foot – literally – being pushed toward the edge of the gravity distortion field as she struggled to keep up her defence against Ari, the slightly taller woman’s endurance seemingly endless.

Ari’s strategy seemed to be working, albeit she knew she was running dangerously close to outright collapse from the gravity enhance fatigue for her sudden burst.

Her muscles, bones and ligaments were flashing red in her mind with stress signals she could not long ignore, but Ari had to give it her all, she focused on her own worries about reviving the older guardians - the potential for one of them, especially Karintha or Yiraea invoking the Goddesses authority more directly than anyone else could as crusading against the outsiders – and telepathically hurled those thoughts at Milaea.

They struck Milaea as hard as any physical blow, she couldn’t keep her own concerns and the fatigue under control much longer, yet even distracted her blocks were still stronger than any defence Ari had seen among the Vhal’dan excepting the indomitable Arbiter Anson D’Aklay, but she knew one dismissive but brutally effective way to break it.

Imitating her own teacher Jarys, Ari pulled back for a second, then came back in looming as if she were twice as tall and three times as large, despite being barely half a centimetre taller and 5kg lighter.

She slammed her leg down forward and direct into Milaea’s foot and trust her hand forward fast as she could, grabbing her throat, a single back step and she lifted the shocked woman up…

…and just as the visual and tactile information of holding Milaea up by the neck reach her brain Ari found herself flung backward by and instinctual defensive Aetheric blast that would’ve shattered a humans body inward.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/RDFHH0L/M-51.jpg) (https://ibb.co/RDFHH0L)

The tension grew with the silence as they wordlessly packed away the gravity field generator and stopped by the river to quickly bathe apart from each other.

A sense of heavy dread weighed down both Ari’s stomachs that she had gone too far in her mental and physical attack, enough that Milaea had broken the no-aether rule to hurl her away.

It was a cord of endless tension and regret that wound through her mind – had she after so many days happily working together she somehow ruined everything they had built of their friendship so soon after Milaea had opened up to her?

Like an invasive weed it grew thornier as the minutes passed and the lack of any word or glance between them became a painful absence having become accustomed to each other’s attention so quickly.

Halfway back to the caverns the pressure became too much.

“I’m sorry!” Ari blurted out meandering five steps behind Milaea.

“I shouldn’t have…”

Milaea stopped in front of her, as she turned Ari felt a rapid cold sweat that the expression would be one of anger.

Instead it was a gentle smile that melted the anxiety away in an instant.

“Nothing to apologize for, you won fairly, did exactly what training is for by exposing a mental weakness that someone like Lucovis of Vectivus would’ve played on…and…”

She backtracked to walk beside Ari taking her hand in a gesture of reconciliation and consolation.

“…and forced me to think about something I’ve actively ignored.”

“As part of trying to avoid looking too much into the future?”

“Yes…ironic given we’re playing with time…I’m focused on just what I am doing and my intentions, and I draw a line in responsibility for any causality there.”

Milaea eyes were focused straight ahead and as Ari so often had noticed, looking at something far beyond what anyone else could see.

“I’m helping heal and bring life to the People.  What they do subsequently is up to the People, yes I worry the older guardians might take a more aggressive approach, but that is their choice, not mine, no matter what they choose I’m happy I did what was right here and now, let the future see to itself.”

“You don’t…”  Ari was cautious with her next question

“Worry at all about the moral implications of reviving the dead, upsetting the natural order of things?” Ari was well aware it was a question that only applied to herself, Milaea and potentially Sofa – the others she well knew would never even contemplate the possibility that they should not do something to benefit the People.

“It’s funny, the Temple Jedi worry about some uses of the Force being unnatural…never seeing the irony that the Force is the essence of the natural, using it no different to some species as breathing, the how doesn’t matter, anyway hyperdrive travel is even more unnatural if you think about it,”

“Ha true…perhaps only the Extolled can be said to ‘naturally’ travel across the stars” Ari said waves of relief still washing over her that Milaea was not angry with her.

“Still who knows maybe if we resuscitate someone they will be supportive of a more collaboratively relationship with outsiders”

Both women were well aware the arrangements with the Chiss and Yuzzhan Vong hardly came under the banner of respectful, the first was commercial and strategic, the latter…disturbingly fanatical.

“You’re right, those are things to deal with as they occur…” Ari agreed

“There is a far more immediate struggle to overcome…” Milaea said her tone suddenly solemn.

“What?” Ari asked slightly worried as Milaea released her hand.

“Beating you back to the caves!”

Like a bolt of red lightning Milaea blitzed nearly 10 metres ahead before with a wry grin Ari rushed after her.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 17, 2020, 01:08:40 AM
Chapter 19 — Trials — Methods Part 6

Power
It was finished, Revival Orb version 9.7 achieved all their key goals, it not only stored in a more compact way than a Blackstone Altar, with a more accurate ‘input’ and ‘extraction’ method keyed to seamless re-integration with an Aethan body. It also created a micro Temporal ‘bubble’ that warped time around the presence to slow degradation, in effect time passed 10 times slower within the enchanted orb.

Ari could only marvel at the complexity of their creation, arguably one of the most intricate Force or Aether based devices ever created, it performed functions Naga Sadow, Lucovis, Aethan Technocracy and the Revenant all desired in their own immortality and essence transference methods, but in a far more elegant way. 

If it had a limitation it was that the nature of the enchantments and the substrate itself could only truly work with an Aethan aura due to the innate connection to the Bloodstone that was only possible for beings who were a part of the planet from which the substance was mined.

“And now comes the harder part…” Milaea said, her tone between serious and humorous through mental exhaustion.

“How do we communicate to someone 25 years ago how to make one of these…”

Ari flopped back on the gormin rug contemplating. 

Over the last three weeks of work, the cavern had become a home of sorts, without much question as to what they were doing the others had dropped off items of furniture, food and clothing to make things more comfortable as they took to sleeping there.

Indeed the two young women had created an entire schedule around their research and design – waking just before dawn for a run and exercises, they spent the early morning working on the theoretical underpinnings before a break just after midday, then the afternoon – and often well into the evening – tweaking the test orbs.

Milaea scooted beside her despite their close work it still sent a slight tingle through Ari to feel her so near.

“The biggest limitation is probably the Athenaea Cortex itself….” Ari mused staring up at the ceiling, referring to the unique neuronal brain structure that allowed, through complex chemical, pheromonal, telepathic and aetheric means knowledge and understanding to be shared directly, with almost no loss of fidelity between two Aethans – It was used greatly by children as they grew and was termed by Kazic as a form of ‘Instinctive developmental delving’ he found fascinating, albeit had to ensure Ari kept it in check as in outsider culture such a delving was considered intrusive…and as had occurred could cause a non-Aethan participant severe neurological damage.

“…it can only take in so much information per second, and it is a very complex Orb…how long would it take to ‘download’ the entire schematic?”

“Perhaps…3 minutes, maybe more, 200 seconds?” Milaea replied with quick calculations.

“And how long can you sustain a Flow Walk to the past….”

Milaea’s face fell slightly,

“Based on old technocracy records it takes nearly 50,000 Aeths per second to just get any link to the past…25 years probably another 15,000…”  She referred to the Technocracies means of quantifying Aetheric power, the system of Aeths was a good estimate albeit not always as precise as the Technocracy might have liked given the emotional and environmental ‘contaminants’ that affected aetheric use.

“…Plus it takes even more to actually transmit across the cortex, to establish a bond with the receiver….”

Milaea lay down beside Ari staring up at the same ceiling.

“We’ll need to test exactly how much it takes…and how much energy we can put out to determine what help we need….”

<<<<>>>>

The Orb Infuser was a queer looking device – made of greysleet it was two rounded handholds with finger indents that gently curved into a hollow sphere into which a black orb would be placed for Enchantment, or in this case ‘Charging’

It was cool to the touch as Ari sat holding both handles.  It was a test to see just how much energy she could put out per second by seeing how long it took to charge the Battery like Orb – of course she was at rest, fatigue or stress would likely decrease it  higher states of emotional arousal could increase it.

“Ready,” Milaea asked with the timer.

“Ready,” Ari nodded

“OK…Go,”

Even as the last syllable passed Milaea’s soft lips Air poured all she could into the Orb, suppressing any outward signs of energy draw to achieve as fast a completion as possible.  The Orb had, according to the Technocracy schematic, a 2 million Aeth capacity.

She pushed out all the energy she could through the handle into the vacuously hungry orb, they would have to adjust their calculation for the Blackstone materials Absorbency -the pull that enhanced her push.  While the Aethena Cortex also possessed a ‘pull factor it operated with vastly different parameters.

Ari’s eyes kept focused directly ahead, still feeling no push back after what seemed an age as her eyes and fingers began to tingle from pushing out too much power in too short a time, well past what she would even in a combat situation.

Finally there seemed to be a resistance, a push back of a kind before simply no more would flow and sparks of purple flew around the orb no longer able to fill it.

“unnnng…that was harder than I thought!”

“No wonder…” Milaea did the sums
“You were pumping out an average of 170,000 aeths per second…”

“Felt a lot longer than 12 seconds….” Ari calculated backward to the time it took her.

“I’ll give it a go, then rest before trying a more measured pace.”

Milaea’s fill time was, as Ari had expected, much faster at only 8 seconds, after which both were ready for some recovery, digging in quickly to the various fruits Jenaea had delivered the day before.

“Strange no one has really asked us what we’re doing…” Ari noted

“That’s partially why I set up in the sacred caverns,” Milaea explained between bites,
“No one will interfere or ask questions of us here,”

“You don’t want them to be disappointed if we fail?”

“Partially…and they have important work to do on the Obelisk array and restoring the farms,”

“Do you think you could use the Goddesses power?” Ari redirected
“To get the extra energy we’ll probably need?”

Milaea’s expression seemed odd at the thought

“It doesn’t work that way, I can’t use it at will, in some ways it uses me…”

“Surely they will help like they did on Ord Mirit?,”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, their power is great, but finite… I spent a lot of time considering how it works, my best hypothesis is whenever we use the aether on Aethas – possibly even beyond - a portion of it is drawn into the ultradense supercritical fluid of the mantle and stored there.  Even more when we deliberately perform a ritual or rite. Over the generations it’s built up considerably, at least hundreds of millions, possibly billions of Aeths if it had to be quantified…of course with far less People now it can’t be replenished.”

Ari perked up at the concept
“So you think the goddesses power is stored in the planet itself? Like a giant Orb?”

It made sense, ultradense materials stored the aether, and arguably Aethas itself was a giant sphere of such.

“It’s the best theory I have, projecting that power to Ord Mirit would’ve been costly enough, let alone pinning all the Jedi in place and creating false memories…”

“The ‘transmission cost’…but if the Goddesses can do that then why…”

Ari didn’t need to say it, Milaea well knew the obvious question – why didn’t they stop the Devastation?  Surely neutralizing 300 pirates when the People were complete was easier than three dozen Jedi half a galaxy away.

“…ever since Ord Mirit, and before when I briefly spoke to Aephrodaea I think I gained an understanding of the Goddesses,” Milaea explained

“I think…their power is of course limited but in more than just pure Aeths, I think there are ‘rules’ and a larger strategy in play…as callous as it is I think Aethenaea in her Wisdom foresaw that the best time and place to use their power directly was Ord Mirit…”

“So they allowed the devastation to act on Ord Mirit…” it did seem cold hearted and illogical, but as Ari parsed through the chains of causality and various scenarios – remembering there was much se did not know and the Goddesses likely did she began to understand.

“They foresaw that was the best way to keep as many of us alive as possible…” Ari concluded

Milaea nodded solemnly

“It’s the only thing that makes sense, the Goddesses did what they truly believed would be best for the long term survival of the People…had they intervened at the Devastation the People would’ve acquired technology, ships…and engaged with the galaxy in a completely different way…they would’ve undoubtedly mind ripped the slavers, gone to Nar Shadda for revenge and possibly in their haste drawn the Jedi against them far earlier….”

“Valens would never have learned from Yoda, they would’ve fought hard but the Jedi would’ve still won by weight of numbers…”

It was just one possible scenario of course, but it held high probability.

“Kimar would not have hesitated to send the Sentinels and Temple Guard – Valens and Jarys were able to devastate the Jedi because he had spent 20 years learning their techniques and tactics, without that experience….”

It was still a hard thing to imagine that the Devastation was possibly the best of all possible universes for the People.

Milaea shook off the thoughts

“As to whether they will help us now…I think at most they will try and subtly make things easier for us…perhaps make the link easier by placing events in a way that draws us to someone locate where the aether is strong…I think they are frugal with their power, using it only when multiple goals are achieved so we can’t rely on direct intervention for a single act and…honestly they might not have much power left.”

Ari nodded well aware of the symbiosis of gods and their people, if one was weak so was the other, but each could help to carry the other through.  In many ways the gods were a communal store of knowledge, power and experience to be used in times of great need and a focus for the culture.

“Over time as we recover,” Ari said “I’m sure they will regain their strength, possibly to even greater levels…they possess the sum of our knowledge, with all we have learned from the Jedi, Vhal’Dan, Extolled, Chiss, even the Sith and Revanant, they will be all the wiser.”

“That’s what I hope too,” Mili replied finishing the last of the food.

“And even if we don’t manage to revive anyone, the knowledge we’ve generated the ideas and innovations will still add to the collective….”

She looked down to notice all the food had been eaten.

“How ‘bout a walk to the farm to restock?”

“Or a race?” Ari posited after their previous two bouts.

“You’re on!”
 
<<<<>>>>

Last Steps

(https://i.ibb.co/y8PnvKc/Volurk.jpg) (https://ibb.co/SKyXYH4)

The cavern was darker than dark, the blackheart ultradense stone consuming all visible light.

Taryn took the lead, Lydan walking backwards so they were back to back while Xani waited outside.

They moved quietly as possible.  The Volurks themselves could move incredibly fast and silent in these kind of places, their sonar, thermal and radiation senses far greater and more subtle that that Aethans possessed.

Ultimately they could not avoi the creature sensing them, but they could try and find and advantageous position.  The volruks liked to perform tensed leaps from cavern walls or ceilings to hit their prey with maximum momentum. A larger open area would give them some warning and mean thy had to scramble that bit further when retreating.

The greatest risk was being outnumbered and hit by their poison claws or fangs.  But locked together closely they could provide a solid defence.

“You ready for the dance?” Taryn whispered

“Dance?” the infuriatingly literal farm boy replied

“Just get keep the staff handy…”

Taryn slowly drew his katana, a blackstone weapon he’d forged himself, it currently only had one of three possible enchantments – a simple shatterpoint seeking ability that caused the blade to gently move of its own accord to seek the weakest point in armour or flesh – It was a tradition that the enchantments be performed by a woman, usually the wielders wife. 

Lyaea had kindly placed this one enchantment on it, a sign of her affection and promise of more one day, after he had once more ended up upside down on a tree after trying to kiss her – it was a flirty game between them now.

Lydan meanwhile tightened his grip on his shepherds staff, the Obirio wood infused with four enchantments, most substrates could take only three, but his prodigy wife Adaea had managed even more, though nominally of a weaker material the enchantments made it far more deadly than Taryn’s sword.

They stopped in the dark centre of the ante chamber, the carved doorway to the inner cavern just ahead, the edge of where males could pass, no volurks would be any further in, the Goddess power Xani assured them prevented that.

Even so this chamber was large and linked to nearby warrens via small tunnels just big enough for a volurk to glide through with their sinuous pallid forms.

Without sound, light, heat, only the thinnest ripple of air displacement and gravity they struck.

Three, so far as Taryn could tell gnashed and thrust at what to the volurks were two hulking heated towers of rich delicious muscle to consume.

Lydan’s staff spun like a wheel landing heavy meaty slaps that imparted the toxic malacia curse Adaea had placed in it, slowly draining the life force of the victim.

Taryns katana sparked glints as it sliced into diamond hard fangs and elongated claw like nails, seeking out the molecular fault lines, a few cracked off, but there were far more he simply deflected.

Cold droplets of venom splashed on their faces when he severed a claw, or Lydan smashed a fanged mouth, their pores on their skin instinctively closing to ensure no chance of entry – the risk now was the venom trickling into any cuts they already had.

A rhythm developed, attack, block, pause attack, as the seemingly endless horde charged at them over and over.  A terrible screech at the highest pitch the men could hear echoed after the fourth such charge as one of the Volurk finally fell twitching nt he cavern floor before Lydan’s foot pulped the head.

one down a dozen to go…

It was gruelling and seemingly endless, the beasts in their natural habitat were too adept at avoiding counter attacks, and eschewing their initial stealth now flooded their senses with thermal, auditory and sonar senses with an overload of information to provide false information.

Taryn remained in the centre of the conflagration still, his future brother in law to his back, calm, trusting in the aether to guide his defence, controlled, not trying anything fancy or over the top, just a methodical defence and taking safe chances to sever a limb or crack a shoulder where he could.

He wanted to just unleash torrents of flame and incinerate the creatures, but was keenly aware the moved too quickly to strike them all at once. 

Forced to go against his impulses he focused on the end goal of helping the bright eyed teen girl achieve whatever quixotic quest she was embarked upon.

It was a strange thing, he mused even as opportunistic bladed nails tore into his shins, and hungry teeth raked his cheek, to care for someone who could offer him no material recompense so much that he endured fighting off some of the worst of Aethas fauna.

A surge of four pale starved creatures forced him to back into the brick wall like Lydan who was shaking another off his staff – the creature had bitten the enchanted obirio wood despite the malacia enchantment…and was now vomiting all over it from its clamped jaws, spewing stomach acids onto the shepherds hands.

“nnnggg Shuffle it up!” Taryn yelled.

Their minds synchronized as cleanly as their motions as Lydan, the shorter dropped down, Taryn rolled over his back – the exposure of their sides and back earning more than a few stabs….but Taryn came back down onto the biter driving his blade through its back, and Lydan came up into the horde of volurks that had been on Taryn his staff sweeping up with shattering force sending them flying on concussive waves.

Half their number now gone the remaining volurks, mad and starving became utterly feral.  The fight descened into a chaos of shredded clothes, sliced skin and wounded muscle.

Hormones and Tri-White blood cells pumped rapidly though the Aethan bodies to seal off breaches and destroy venoms, Volurks drew on their most potent distractive abilities to try and confuse the focused warriors.

It was long and painful but one by one, strike by strike wound by wound they wore the creatures down, breaking their bodies beyond repair even as their own began to resemble shredded cloth.

Xani waited anxiously outside, the Goddess beside her strangely curious as if she didn’t know what was going to happen, which Xani found odd as she had known every time up till now.

Finally after nearly an hour the two weary men exited stained in blood and viscera, each hauling a load of carcasses, the hides made surprisingly tough but still flexible gloves.

“Right, all safe you can head in now…” Taryn wheezed

“Oh I’m not meant to go in yet,” Xani replied “I just had to find somewhere like this and make sure it was safe,”

Completely ignoring the stunned Taryn she turned to the Goddess

“Thank you for your Help Aertemisaea!”

The Goddesses form, always waver at best seemed even more so like she wasn’t sure what Xani was saying or who she was anymore.  But Xani supposed she just didn’t understand.

Looking up she noticed it was nearly night fall, and the right day as well.

“Hmmm we need to go to the caverns of Aephrodaea tonight…after you have a little rest,”

“I’ll clean up here,” Lydan said as Taryn slumped to the ground utterly bemused by it all.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 17, 2020, 01:11:48 AM
 
Chapter 19 — Trials — Methods Part 7
Sewing the Fabric
“We need to test it…” Milaea concluded,

“…before we even set out to find someone to communicate with we need proof that we can transmit the knowledge across and the receiver can create the Revival Orb such that it works.”

Ari nodded in agreement even as she voiced the challenges.

“The problem is who and when it would have to be someone who was alone for a while, and ideally not overly experienced in creating such complex orbs…”

“That rules out Adaea, Kiraea, Valens and Jarys…even Kassyndra and Lyaea…”

Necessity, and the recovery of Technocracy methods, had forced the orbs they currently used to advance well beyond what the Guardians of old could achieve.

“Melron and Taryn are training closely together, Maeson and Jenaea spend barely any time apart….perhaps Lydan?” Ari suggested

It was a good thought, Lydan had some experience with Orbs but nowhere near enough, spent much of his time on the plains with the Gormin…but…

“Adaea would know the night after and try and help him…he wouldn’t keep anything from her,” Milaea replied

“True…and we also have to do it when we were off planet – or we’ll be at risk of sensing ourselves…” Ari went on her brow furrowed in concentration in a way Milaea had come to find cute.

“That could get messy…” she said with a shy smile at the various quirks she was noticing in her…her close friend.

“Very…the only time we were both off planet was during my trial…” Ari’s aqua eyes suddenly lit with the solution.

“Xani! After Boerin the others prepared the ships to attack Taris if I didn’t get Tarasen back, Xani was left here in the caverns for her safety…she was alone, doesn’t have much knowledge about orbs beyond the basics of communication ones, and we know where and when she is…or was

“There is a risk of Selaena interfering, she is very protective of her,”

“Perhaps, but assuming she never left the cavern till the Revenant threat was dealt with she would have no reason to pry about what Xani did down here, if we tell her how important it is to keep quiet…”

Milaea nodded, with any choice there was some kind of risk, but this seemed the best option.

“Right so we flow walk back just over a month, tell Xani how to make the orb and then…in theory she wanders here the next day with orb in hand.”

“I suppose we’ve already done it!” Ari laughed “We might be able to catch two snow-hawks with one net, if we ask her to look into the old guardians, what they were up to immediately before the Devastation…no one will have a second thought of Xani asking questions,”

The curious girl awestruck by her new home was forever inquiring about all manner of random things.

“Good idea…well I guess there is no time to waste!”

<<<<>>>>

Once more Ari tried not to look as Milaea fastened the Greysleet belt around her waist, her top off.

The belt contained aetheric sensors to measure exactly how many aeths it took to cross the temporal divide and transmit information to Xani, with enchantments to as far as possible delineate between the two actions draw on the aether.

“Alright ready,” Milaea said sweeping her hair back into a quick pony tail before heading to the centre of the decorated chamber.

Ari handed her the final Revival Orb, their fingers touching as it changed hands and lingering in the moment.

“Good luck,”

It shouldn’t be difficult, a month back in time was comparatively nothing for a woman as strong as Milaea, but they were not sure what complications the knowledge transfer could throw up.

With a number of special orbs to record the results Ari also stood ready to flow in some of her power if needed.

“Alright…” Milaea’s eyes focused as they became hazier, not seeing the cavern about her but the cavern before her.

“Xani where are you…”

Images flashed as she ‘leaned’ backward in time, herself and Ari working on the very orb she now held, these she skipped over as fast as possible lest there be any shadow that could cause a paradox.

A brief lull of emptiness then Sofa chatting to Kiraea on their return from Ari’s trial, the private rapport between the oft times publically at odds women intriguing, affectionate even.

Another brief surge of activity as Kassyndra and Selaena came to light candles and attend to the cleaning of the rugs and refill water and food pots, then finally emptiness before…

With a half sigh she wandered about the quiet dark of the caverns of Aephrodaea, small blue aetheric candles ensconced in the bloodstone wall.

It hadn’t been very long…but it felt like a long time.


There she was

Xani enjoyed walking outside in the valley so much, it was so much nicer than the under levels of Carratos had been, being in the caverns reminded her a bit of them, because it was so dark and closed in.  And he wished she could help Ari and the others.

Sighing she paced back and forth past the old shrines, rugs and totems, closing then opening her eyes as if everyone would suddenly be back and she could play and wander outside again when she opened them.


Milaea leant back forward a little to stabilise herself in Xani’s now, firming up her aetheric location. Already red and purple lights were flickering from the draw on her power – she hoped Ari’s theory about a high energy cost to establish a ‘lock’ in a temporal location then a much lower ‘connection maintenance cost’ was correct.
Strangest of all was a restlessness in her arms and legs that she should[i/] be doing something important to help – but she didn’t know what…she wasn’t old enough to fight, she could help bring people things – food, ammunition – and she was getting better at healing from Kassyndra’s lessons….

“You can help Xani,” Milaea said finally firm enough in the young girls present to speak to her audibly.
(https://i.ibb.co/RQFyJKn/M-R2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/RQFyJKn)
The girl turned astonished.

“Aephrodaea?”  Xani asked wide eyed – who else after all would suddenly appear and talk to her in the Caverns of Aephrodaea?

Ari had been right, anchoring herself in Xani’s time the power drain reduced, but was still as much as pouring out mid power aetheric lightning to maintain.

Milaea had no time to explain the situation to Xani, if she thought her the goddess then perhaps that was an unintended boon

“Xani this is very important and will help the People greatly, I need you to listen carefully and do exactly what I tell you,” ….

<<<<>>>>

Dabbing the wet cloth Ari did what she could to keep Milaea cool as her temperature rose.

It had only been a few minutes, but it felt like much longer as her friend stood stone still but surrounded by flickering energy, breathing coming in sharp bursts, her aura strangely displaced from her.

“aaahhh…” Milaea finally breathed out lucidity returning to her face.  Ari was quick to summon over a bowl of water that she eagerly drank.

“Are you alright?”

“yeah…” Milaea slowly sat herself on the floor
“Just…a lot….”

Ari quickly checked her orbs.

“You averaged 50,000 aeths per second…spiked at nearly 200,000!”

“You were right…” Milaea said taking another drink “the connection anchor point is the hardest part…once past that it was alright…Xani helped I think but actively pulling in the information,”

“So you think it worked?”  Ari asked moving over to check her more thoroughly.

“We’ll soon find out, she should be here tonight if it did”

<<<<>>>>

Against all probability Taryn saw someone who looked more worn out than he was.

Beside Ari on a lip of rock above the small pools in front of the sacred cavern, backed by the enormous frozen waterfalls, Milaea looked more than a little blood shot around the eyes.

Xani rushed up leaping over the pools and onto the same level without a hint of weariness.

“Are you alright Mili?” she asked immediately.

“Much better seeing you!” she gave the teen a big hug

“How did you go?” Ari asked

“Hmmm I think I got it right…” Xani produced the bloodstone orb from her pack

As Ari inspected the device Xani had created Milaea looked over Taryn.

“You look like you were mauled by a vorynx pack, shall I call my grandmother to help heal you?”

“Heh every bit of carinVorus fauna but those canines,” Taryn sneered
“I’ll be right, have to get back to the Old Man anyway, you all done now Nibblet?”

“Yes thank you Taryn!” Xani beamed before gripping him in a hug.

He patted her on the head

“Anytime sweetling…you’ve always got someone looking out for you,”

With his last words he met Milaea’s gaze and sent a question across a private telepathic link.

Milaea’s answer of ‘No’ left them with a larger question – while it had been Milaea that Xani had first interpreted as Aephrodaea, it had not been her or Ari in place of Aeremisaea whom Xani had been happily chatting with for the last week – So who was it?  The Goddess herself was possible…but if not….

“I’ll leave you girls to the nose powdering and pillow fighting,” he smiled placing Xani in their care before a final wave and heading back down the rocky pools.

“Excellent!” Ari said disrupting Milaea’ thoughts as Xani sat beside her chewing on some dried fruits, the young girl perking up.

“Did I get it right?”

“You did,” Ari explained

“And I know where the sacred cavern that Yorna visited just before the Devastation is too, Taryn and Lydan got rid of the volurks, come on I’ll show you!” she leapt up eager to get moving.

“Not just yet sweetie,” Milaea said her hand bringing the teenager back down

“There are still a few things we need to do, but very soon, why don’t you go inside and get the fires started it will be night soon.”

“hmmm I am hungry…” Xani said before hopping up and off into the caverns, leaving Ari and Milaea to share weary smiles.

The first Phase of Project Persephaea had succeeded, at only the cost of a few weeks of sleepless nights and Taryn getting a few more battle scars.

Phase two beckoned – actually linking with Yorna…then if that succeeded Phase three where their knowledge of healing and rapid cellular regeneration plundered from the Sith and the Revenant would come to the fore to give the fallen guardian a new body.

The Goddesses were with them.   Though still as they joined Xani to eat, they wondered just in what manner they were helping them.

<<<<<>>>>>


The Other Side

25 Years Ago

(https://i.ibb.co/28WXSgW/Kar-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/28WXSgW)
She waited a few moments, long enough for Yorna to make her way ino the main caverns before following in,

“Something troubles you?” Taran asked, her tall broad husband’s stern green eyes seeking out any trace of danger.

“I am uncertain, wait here,” Karintha replied tentatively stepping in.

There was a disruption here she could not pinpoint, the echoes of battles not yet fought that seemed out of place.

Without warning or preamble a face appeared before her barely two meters into the caverns antechamber

“Thank you for your Help Aertemisaea!” Karintha simply looked on the girl stunned, she had appeared from some other time, if the same place and addressed her as if they had spoken before.

She was unfamiliar to Karintha, an impossibility, she knew every person in the Valley, this girl was all of 13 to 14 winters old and she had never seen her.

Behind her were two battered and bloodied young men, 20 or so winters each, one taller and lean, the look of a tracker or long range hunter, the other slightly shorter but solid as a shepherd of the gormin flocks. These two she did not recognise either.

Around them in the inner annex the bodies of volruks, how they had reached this far from their usual mountain caverns….

No sooner had Karintha opened her mouth to reply than the three…’visitors’ vanished.

But not before she had senses of them enough to trace.

Rushing out of the cavern Taran immediately leapt to assist her.

“Something twists the motion of the days,” she explained to him eyes scanning over the swamp and around the entrance to the cavern.

There again she spied the girl and the two males
“Little Nibblet here needs to visit that cave,” the taller said
“But it’s got infested by some Volurks, probably came down the mountain after the Devastation, set up a good trade picking off gobbits and the odd vorynx with their lures just past the vosis swamp over there,”

“Should we relocated them?” the larger said


The teen girl turned directly to Karintha again starling her, eyes full of expectation and assumption that she would guide her.  As though she had before….

“If the volurks have come down this far into the valley their population must be excessive, imbalanced, they need to be culled,” Karintha said to the girl who simply nodded and turned to her ‘real time’ companions.

“There isn’t room, the population is imbalanced…”
The girl communicated before the three vanished once more.

What is the meaning of this! Karintha wondered

She had barley turned to the swamp when she saw them again, the tall man and the girl only this time

“Fragg’n volurks…” he sighed
“Even Jarys, Valens and Lydan barely got out of a cavern filled with these things looking for engagement presents…their far from the usual deep caverns…”

Jarys…Valens… Andis grandsons were undergoing their own trials this very moment, and she knew as a Guardian herself the boys had not sought gifts from volurk cavern,….and Lydan…

Yes Lydan was the son of Selaena and Lysan, barely 5 winters old….the girl and he others were speaking from the future…and yet

He looked at Xani who was more curious than anything.

He didn’t need to ask, he stated it

“This is the one isn’t it?”

Xani nodded.

“Of bloody course…”

There was no way anyone could go in there until the volurks were cleared out.

“Have you not already cleared the Volurks from the antechamber? There couldn’t be any deeper the Goddesses power would protect it?” Karintha said out loud

Once more Taryn felt a strange chill and the weird sense there was someone next the teenager that he couldn’t quite confirm was there.

“Aertemisaea says they are only in the outer annex, not the main cavern…”

He nodded and straightened up and considered his options, taking an honest assessment of his capabilities given his already feeling well past haggard.

“Nibblet I can’t take on these volurks alone, I’m gonna need some help,”

Karintha began to understand, this was before the tall one and the shepherd fought the volruks…

Even though these three were, relative to Karintha in the far future, at least 20 years, she was communicating with them backwards on their own thread.

Again the teen girl glanced to her, Karintha nodded approvingly at the tall man’s acknowledgement he needed assistance.

“Volurks are fearsome foes, assistance even for one undertaking Guardian training is wise,”

Without hesitation Karintha spoke and took charge of the situation, guiding the three to events she had already seen them accomplish.

“I’ll ask someone,” the teen said before vanishing once more into the future.

“Karintha!” Taran was suddenly beside her
“Your presence drifted far for many moments, I feared you taken by a malady.”

“No,” she shook her head

“There are…young ones in need of my assistance… in the future, only one I recognise, I follow their path backwards….remain here to assist Yorna and keep vigil, I must follow this wyrd to its source.”

And so she did.  She witnessed the tall man face seven Vosis alone in defence and service to the teenage girl, overheard their names – Xani evidently shortened from Xanaea, and Taryn – this last name she knew, a child of the shepherds village barely 4 winters.

And more and more the girl would look to her for guidance and assurance which Karintha gladly gave, assuring the girl her companion and guardian would survive, telling her when to send him a head to encounter dangers Karintha had witnessed them be delivered from already.

It was a strange thing, as Karintha grew more confident in her interactions the girl became less so, for in the strange twisting of the rising and setting, Karintha had interacted with her first at their last communication relative to Xanaea.

She followed their path for nearly two days, to the upper mountains where they encountered a voursus, along the rocky paths toward he near steppe, and there at last she encountered a guardian, Melron, looking strangely younger and fitter than ever was training this boy.

She listened to the conversation turn to the cavern she had already sheen them visit.

“…I only met up with them on the way to the gathering, Karintha and Yorna were chatting about an orb…” the old man explained

“Yes the were coming through the trees rather than along the road …I just overheard the end of the conversation Yorna said ‘…Kiraea will know where it is’ didn’t pay it much mind back then”

These were events pertaining to her own life Karintha had not yet experienced, truly this was the guidance of the Goddesses.

“Aertemisaea where is your cavern?” Xanaea asked her.

Karintha paused briefly hoping to speak to Melron, but it appeared in their wisdom the Goddesses made her visible only to the young girl.

Now it made sense…now she understood why the sequence of events had occurred in such an unusual way. 

To be addressed as the Goddess did not bother Karintha, all women were avatars of their goddesses, she was simply taking a more active role.

She pressed out her presence to Xanaea

“Follow my trail,” she told the future girl, knowing know that each interaction along her quest from here was a beacon for Xanaea to follow forward even though they were to Karintha’s back to where they had first met.

Xanaea nodded and her image receded leaving Karintha alone on the steppe.

What she had seen and understood from her interaction with the future People had been troubling.

A child that young should not be undertaking such a task on her own.  Where were the older female guardians to guide her, why were children not currently chosen to be guardians being trained, where had the young men learned some of the stranger techniques she witnessed they use against the fauna, why did Melron look younger in body yet horribly older in soul?

Yorna’s trial would be finished soon she sensed, Kiraea would likely be getting bored at home and wondering where she was, Karintha had to head back, her steps firm but mind filled with worry.

Something happened in the future, something she could not prevent for it had already come to pass, yet something the goddesses clearly wanted her to have a hint of.

Perhaps what troubled Karintha the most was the sense among the three young ones of a lack of the firm but compassionate hand of a matriarch to guide and nurture them, there was a sense among them they were adrift, lost, the structures of their society loose. 

Karintha would never let such a state of affair eventuate.
Where am I in the future? she thought…the obvious answer…was…unsettling… 

The Gathering was a few days’ time, there she would consult with the other Guardians, assemble those women with the strongest Seior powers to gaze into the future further…

She just hoped she had time.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on November 17, 2020, 06:49:51 PM
WONDERFUL!

I've said it before, but you are DEFINITELY a master at Temporal Narration, LSG!  Once again we see how causality and effect are turned on their respective heads by Flow Walking, our resident goddesses now the reason.  Great writing  :)

But now a double-edged dilemma: a question of not only what will Mili & Ari do but also what Karintha's intents are now that she's armed with such knowledge.  These circles within circles just got an entire new dimension of intrigue added to them.  I'm also reminded of an adage that I'd read a long time ago (to paraphrase): "For every effect that you expect, there is at least one that you do not."  What if...the Devastation HAD to happen (as per Mili's and Ari's musings) so that the future WOULD occur, one that was the best possible outcome for the Aethans (despite the widespread genocide and destruction)?  Now THESE are the kind of stories that Star Wars SHOULD be putting out!

Nice to see Mili's and Ari's burgeoning (and mutual) growing attraction; I feel like their relationship could be a boon for not only the People but especially HOW they deal with Outsiders and the galaxy at large.  Of course...that's a "best case" (and not to mention a bit of "wish fulfillment" of my own); let's face it: NOTHING is ever THAT easy for ANY of the Aethans  ;)

You know, I think that you have Varel-Zo more exact than even I'd done when I was writing him; I'm DEFINITELY going to steal the Hourglass Analogy (the perspective of the sand within the glass; brilliant  ;D).

Learning more about the Aethans has certainly been some of the best reading for me  :)

Again: AWESOME job, LSG!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 25, 2020, 10:55:25 PM
Chapter 20 —Trials — Means Part 1
Yorna
(https://i.ibb.co/Cwg4ryF/Yor-7.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Cwg4ryF)
The late winter breezes were stilled this deep into the forest, in the shadow of Dark Green hill near a swampy patch leading up to the mountains that bordered the Valley.

Flying insects darted around as she slowly headed toward the concealed entrance to the cavern.  She could feel it was there even if she couldn’t see it yet. 

Her hand woven leather boots treaded through the marshy ground that gave way to outcrops of Greysleet as she neared.

“You are a caring and clever woman Yorna,” Taran had said, although she had no doubt the words were really her aunt Karintha’s – Taran as a relatively independent Guardian was to set her trial not Karintha who had trained and raised her, but he no doubt had conferred with her at length.

“But a Guardian must embody all three aspects, Compassion, Cunning and Courage…as such you’ll go to the Cavern of the Lady of Battle and the Hunt,”

He didn’t say Aertimsaea’s name as was fitting for a male, even a Guardian.

That was her only instruction, not what to do there, nor how long to take there, just go there and let the Goddesses teach and guide her but equally she had to act and respond on her own.

Shaking off the moisture she looked about the outcrops of Greysleet at the foot of the sharply rising mountains, behind her the bubble and squeak of decomposition in the swamps carried innumerable scents to her nose – decay and digestive fluids.  It neither repelled nor attracted her, these were simply the scents of the forest.

She wandered about the stones looking for the hidden entrance pressing her mind and sharpening her eyes looking for minor inconsistencies. 

She sensed her peers – Jarys and Valens on the other side of the Valley undertaking their own trials – and of course the ever present lights of her sister Kiraea impatient at Karintha’s lessons.

After half an hour of no success she tried a different method.  darting to the base of the outcrops she scooped up some stones, then began throwing them in a precise pattern against the outcrop – if she couldn’t she the illusion she could at least note which stones didn’t bounce off the rocks.

After three dozen throws all she had was a grid pattern of chipped rock.

Perhaps she was trying to be too clever about it.  Or not clever in the right way…she took a closer look at the rocks…

Uh how did I miss it!

Thin drag lines – someone had shifted a rock to cover the entrance…she followed the lines to an area were the stone was lighter- that was where it had been dragged from so…that was where it was dragged to…

Placing her hand on the stone she noted it had been covered in the swampy water to make it look as old and weathered as the surrounding stones to fool her. 

Now to move it…

Yorna brushed it tentatively with the aether and felt a tug on her – it pulled the aether into itself – any attempt to lift it telekinetically would just drain her – the trial was forcing her to use brute strength instead of her more subtle methods.

“Alright then…I need something big and heavy…”

<<<<>>>

Aresaea
Aresaea lightly leapt over the pooled water, the swamp had crept closer to the cavern in the years since the Devastation, but the entrance was still there.

Around the mouth hung with lichen and dark green fungi were large chunks of greysleet as if a large stone had been smashed to pieces just in front of the entrance…

“Here it is!” Xani in front said excitedly, her little quest with Taryn had cleared the area of the Vosis and volruks, making their progress that much easier. 

“Look at this…someone smashed a big rock in front of the cavern…” she called back to Milaea as she took up a fragment…there was some memory still in the stone but it was too thin to read much of use.

“Why would they put a stone in front of the cavern?” Milaea asked the caverns of Aephordaea were never closed to any woman – open and embracing…but then these were…

“…the caverns of Aertemisaea,” her thoughts finished as words “Bound to be different rules…”  It was sad no one remembered them fully, even finding them required some divine intervention.

“Should we keep our clothes on?” Ari queried, it was expected to at least wear only a light robe in Aephordaea’s cavern.

“Hmmm…I’m sure she won’t mind if we do,” Milaea replied not as concerned about protocol as Ari was, the Goddesses were eminently pragmatic after all,

She cupped the bloodstone orb Xani had created in her pouch, the template they would use to try and teach Yorna if they could reach her.

“Xani this might take a while…and we don’t know what to expect can you wait out here and signal for help if we don’t check in by tomorrow?”

There was no disappointment on the girls face to be left out, whatever the Goddess had told her meant Xani was convinced and contended it was not yet her time to enter the caverns.

“I will,” she promised even now looking about for a comfy place to wait,

“Then let’s head inside,”

<<<<>>>

Yorna
The stone barrier dealt with by a heavy blow with another chunk of rock Yorna went inside, her arms still a little sore from the backlash of the impact.

The Grey sleet wall darkened as she head down rough cut steps and turned in time to pure blackstone to the point she could no longer see. 

She could easily summon a light orb…but she opted for her flint and small tar dipped torch instead.

It was curious to see so much blackstone, even the mines didn’t have this much…in fact she wondered if it wasn’t black-heart – as Taran who was from the mining village told it the difference was subtle between blackstone and black heart, but importantly one held much more aetheric energy than the other.

The contrast to Aephordaea’s cavern was also stark.  That was made of Bloodstone, rich and red behind the waterfalls that flowed from the Great Ice Mountain - it was warm and always had a few women about. 

This was cold and empty, she wondered if Aertemisaea felt lonely or ignored…but then she spent most of her time out in the forest so probably didn’t visit that often herself anyway.

Finally reaching an opening at the bottom so vast she couldn’t even see the walls. 

“hmmm…ah-ha…Tck! Tck! Tck!” she clicked her tongue to use a trick Old Andis had taught them about measuring the echoes off objects to get a feel for the layout. 

The cavern was nearly 30 metres wide with a number of offshoot corridors, she soon found a series of old fire bowls to light the area up. 

The floor was carved with a central spiral and grids around it…some kind of training course she figured.  About the edge were carved holes and hooks with old swords and padded clothing confirming her suspicion, there were even some old bows and arrows on benches just outside a passage that likely lead to a practice range.

The ceiling was carved with images of the Goddesses hunting and wrestling, the far wall from the entrance hollowed out to support a 3 metre tall statue of Aertemisaea in Bloodstone that contrasted with the blackheart stone of the cavern. 

“Well now what do I do?” she asked out loud but no one replied.  She looked at one of the various shelves along the wall, it had strange devices that must’ve come from the Dead Lands outside the valley, a queer looking rectangular thing with a small handhold in a weird place for a club, and a hole at the end – she peered inside but couldn’t see anything in there – it also had a strange small lever sized for a finger that didn’t do anything when pulled. 

There were also curious cylinders with little things that depressed into them, pieces of old armour with strange dull string that felt funny on the inside of them.

And one thing most unusual was a larger cylinder all in black that had been certainly expertly fashioned and had a large hole at one end and queer circular buttons on the side with a hole in the top? Or was that the Bottom?

If her task here was discerning what these things were she wasn’t going to succeed. 

But Taran said she was already clever…no her test had to be more physical…looking about the offshoot corridors she began exploring.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea
Lit purple with their aetheric energy balls they surveyed the cavern, Blackheart carved except for the Bloodstone statue of the Goddess herself, it was clearly a gym and armoury all in one.

“Look…this is pre Collapse…” Ari lifted up an old Technocracy rifle that was long since depleted, beside it non-functional energy grenades from the same era and…

“A lightsabre?”  she lifted up the blackheart cylinder, expertly fashioned

“I didn’t think the technocracy used them?” 

Milaea wandered over, her eyes still taking in the carving on the ceiling

“Hmmm…might’ve been an experiment…they certainly had the technology for the energy blade, but they never had any focusing crystals expect what they stole form the Sith mini-kingdoms of the Deep Core...we should take it back with us analyse it, see what they were up to?”

Ari nodded and put it in her pack then pushed out her senses joining Milaea’s search…still no sign of her

“I’d have thought we’d find some trace by now…” Ari noted sadly…if not here…then where else would they find a place and person.

“The caverns look big…she could have left a presence anywhere…” Milaea replied optimistically.

“…but the Blackheart might’ve also diluted the trace…osmotically spreading any energies she left behind across the entire cavern…” she added having to be realistic that the chance of finding what they needed was slim at best.

Ari could only agree…the blackheart was an aether hungry substance, fitting for the cavern of the Huntress Goddess…it spread an aetheric charge evenly across itself which was an excellent quality for a small amount, like a piece of armour or sword – but a gigantic metamorphic layer in the crust…Yorna’s trace could be spread across millions of cubic tons of Blackheart instead of being firmed up in one area they could connect with – and that was if she left a trace in the first place.

And if they couldn’t…then…

“Hey…” Milaea stepped toward her and placed her hand on her shoulder – Milaea’s hands were always so warm.

“We’ll find a way…” Milaea looked around the side cavern entrances…

“…but it might be awhile…”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna
“AAAIIIIE NOT AGAIN!” she flicked out her arms to try and slow her slide down the slope into the abyss – this was the third time she’d gotten tricked in what seemed like a huge obstacle course built into this section of the cavern. 

The other chambers held more old weapons, one a study area, and another a store room linked to a cistern, one with strange altars she didn’t know the purpose of all lined up, the last a dormitory like area with ancient wooden furniture and some faded paintings.

She had thought there was nothing left to see when she checked behind Aertemisaea’s statue and found this series of caves. 

It was a labyrinth and training course all in one – first having to leap across plinths of stone barely as large as the balls of her feet, then crawl or climb through narrow gaps, and now then there were the hidden pits - three of which she’d fallen afoul of now.

Her gormin wool sleeve already well-worn tore leaving her skin to take the brunt of friction as she slowed down just before the catching slope – none of the obstacles were dangerous, she knew in front of her there would be a tough but manageable climb for having slipped…but it was humbling to get caught out by them.

Perhaps that was what she was meant to learn. 

She came to a slow stop, the slide down gently rising in a curve to cradle her, her torch tumbling after her flame snuffed out once more.

Rising up she brushed herself off, still somewhat wet from the swimming section and gazed up at the wall of Blackheart with frequent but slightly trying hand holds before her.

“Up again I guess…” she said hoping this was leading somewhere important.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea
“GOT YOU!” Ari called grasping Milaea’s hand before she slipped down the slope.  With a grunt she hefted her up, pulling her back to the ledge and gripping her tightly.

Milaea thanked her with a warm smile still holding to her.  Ari could hear the increased breathing so close together her hand tightening around Milaea’s waist by instinct to keep her close and safe.

“huh…hmmm…” realizing what she was doing Ari let her go
“…those things are tricky…” She glanced down the slope,

Milaea nodded feeling more than a little embarrassed she had been tricked twice…yet at the same time not unhappy about Ari pulling her up to safety and lingering in her hold.

“I wonder how they masked it so well…together we should be able to pick it up…”

Ari knelt down right at the edge of the slide sending an orb of light down the 15 metres to the graceful and safe ending arc before a climbable wall.

“Not sure…someone very clever it seems…”

The floor had appeared perfectly solid, and there was not even a danger sense to warn them…

“Perhaps that’s the point,” Milaea wondered “Aertemisaea is reminding us how vulnerable we are…there are things even we can’t sense coming.”

“That would be fitting…perhaps she made these traps personally…”

Standing back up they shimmied along the edge of the trap to the other side and headed onward.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 25, 2020, 10:56:21 PM
Chapter 20 —Trials — Means Part 2

Yorna

The water was dark as it was scary…and that was very dark!

Yorna wasn’t the best swimmer…especially not in such cold water while fully clothed….

But then that was probably the point to test her courage, willingness to venture into the unknown to do her best for her family. 

Undressing and bundling up her clothes she gingerly poked her foot in…the water was cold but not completely still, a slow moving underground spring.  Without any light she would have to feel her way carefully and memorize the path or she might never make it back out.

“Well here goes…”

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

Ari’s boot splashed in water as a dead end loomed.

“Looks like we have to go under…” Milaea noted pulling her pack round to take out a nyal steel cable, “Here hook this to the wall…Goddess I can’t imagine doing this alone after those traps…I’d be worried about drowning…”

Ari felt along the wall for a place to hammer in a pick to tie the cord off.

“As you say perhaps that’s the point…Aertemisaea is testing our courage and…” her breath caught when she turned around, Milaea’s shirt halfway over her head then flung to the side leaving her in just her black underwear. 

“What?” Milaea asked as Ari stared…she had of course seen her in the loose robes they wore in the caverns…but the Caverns of Aephrodaea were a special place where every woman went mostly undressed, to see Milaea undressed outside of them was…different.

“Oh nothing...good idea, that way your clothes won’t get soaked and slow you down.”

“Well the packs are water proof so we’ll put the clothes in there when we swim after I’ll find the way through…” she gingerly stepped into what must’ve been near freezing water

“Wish me luck!”
<<<<>>>>

Yorna
The first time had been scary, second not so much.  Perhaps there was a lesson in that but she wasn’t sure which – was it that scary things were less scary after you try them…or to be careful for getting too comfortable too quickly…

Either way her torch was now ruined from the swim, she would have to feel her way through still determined not to use the aether to help her.

Yorna shook off the water as best she could and headed forward….

Maybe the lesson was both things at once….

<<<<>>>>

Milaea

 “Got you this time!” Milaea smiled pulling Ari out of the water, she lifted her up and placed the pack to the side, their clothes dry within.

As Ari stood up fully Milaea couldn’t help but look over her from tip to toe, her light blue underwear soaked through and slightly transparent, the cold of the water making certain features stand out prominently underneath.

“It’s cold in here…” she said stepping back and swinging her arms to dry off and warm up.  “It’ll take a while to dry off…” not that she minded a few extra minutes of seeing Ari unclothed…but Milaea was cautious not to let that particular thought slip to her friend?.  Milaea knew her emotions could be…influential…on other people and didn’t want Ari’s feeling subsumed by them…that was even assuming she had any feelings…

“We should stay close…share warmth,” Ari suggested sitting along the edge of the wall and patting the ground beside her, Ari herself slightly worried that was a very forward gesture.

“Good idea…” Milaea said for the millionth time it seemed taking the spot beside her.

There was no sound in the deep caverns but their very occasional breaths, fortunately both were so warm the water was rapidly drying off.

It was both uncomfortable and all too comfortable for Milaea…she felt very close to Aresaea very easily and couldn’t deny a strong attraction to her…but what if she was just friendly like other women and nothing more, she didn’t want to risk making things uncomfortable…

Aresaea could feel the warmth radiating off Milaea, stealing occasional glimpses of her bust despite herself…she swallowed back a short burst of pheromones from the saliva linked glands before Milaea could smell them…it would be pretty weird to exude them in this situation….

“Do you think it does much deeper?” Milaea broke the silence

“Probably…Guardians are meant to be stronger than anyone – it could go for days potentially if it’s a test physical endurance and mental stamina.”

“hmmm…” Milaea opened up her pack, “Well we still have six bars left…not that it really matters…”  They could easily go weeks without food and water

“Perhaps we should signal Xani, just in case it is huge, plus Kiraea would probably want to explore it as well…”

Milaea suppressed a frown, was this Ari indicating she was uncomfortable being alone with her? No that didn’t make sense after so long together over the last few weeks…perhaps she was reading too much into it…

“Maybe another hour or two then if we still haven’t reached the end or find place it’s hard to turn around from we head out?”

“Sounds perfect!”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

Yorna sat in front of the huge column staring at the ornately carved door before her puffing out.  This was a test of strength and speed she’d failed twice so far. 

The Column was on a large track nearly 40 metres long, and connected by some kind of strange elastic material to the door – move the column away from the door and the door rises up – easy.  The problem was you needed to push the column all the way back then run through the door before it slammed down or the column sprung back and slapped you on its spring loaded track. 

First time she hadn’t expected the column to move so fast – second she had worried she was a little too late and the door would close on her foot so pulled back.

The Blackheart sucked in the aether so much making telekinetically doing it difficult but not impossible – she could use the aether to do it…she could even be clever and cut the springs or lever the door up…but again this was not a test of wisdom – knowing those solutions already proved her wisdom and aetheric ability – this was to test her body it was fitting she do it the manual way.

Feeling mostly recovered she stood up and did a few squats to ready her legs which would power her push.  Hands pressed on the column she began to push.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea

 “Ready!” Ari called.

Milaea cupped her hands and squatted down.

“Ready”

A final heavy push of the huge column onto the trigger, the door hefting upward as Ari quickly turned.

As she ran toward it Milaea stepped through and held out her hands to catch it before it closed shut.  Even so it was very heavy Ari boosted her speed to slide beneath it so Milaea didn’t have to hold it for long.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Milaea noted

“hmmm…not with both of us…but maybe we are doing this wrong…I don’t think this is meant to be undertaken by two people working together,” Ari observed

“ah…” Milaea paused “You’re right…it is cheating a bit…but we’re not here to really be tested…or are we…”

She peered around the new room, small and circular with various carved alcoves, and curious symbols beneath each one that were on small carved cubes.

“That is different…”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

 “One…more…push!!!” Yorna had the huge column just at the right place…now it was time, leaning in with her shoulder she heaved it forward – the latch caught and the door began to rise – she was already spinning round, heel pounding through worn shoes no sooner did she have eyes on the door than it reached its peak.  Another step and it began to fall.  Two more steps – leaps really - then she dived – the blackheart relatively smooth offered little friction as she lid under door just before it slammed back shut.

“Woo haha!”

She wasn’t worried about the door closing, she knew she could lift it if needed with the aether, and was certain the Goddess wouldn’t try and trap her here.

The new room was different, numerous blocks with Runes on the floor, and small alcoves in the walls that fit them perfectly.

“hmmm..” reaching down she picked up two of the blocks, each weighed a slightly different amount.  Glancing to the alcoves there seemed to be a panel above the main stone –

“Of course they are weighted…you have to get the right combination of runes on the right scales…”

She looked over the various runes etched on each block, wondering what word would be correct.

But then the answer was obvious.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea
“Nothing…” Milaea said sadly as once more nothing happened as they tried another word.

They’d spent nearly two hours trying all the obvious ones, the names of the Goddesses, their special titles, swapping out the same letters with different weights…still nothing.

Ari sitting among the blocks tried to puzzle out the answer, there were no clues or carvings to hint at what it might be.  At this rate they might have to ‘brute’ it and just try every possible combina…

“That’s it!” Ari leapt up
“What?”
“This is Aertemisaea’s cavern not Aethenaea, she doesn’t toy with riddles and such, we just force it…”

She skipped over to the empty nooks, scanning the thin wall between.
“hmmm….” She looked as closely as she could, aetheric orb lighting casting its blue glow above her. Reaching out she dragged her thumb trying to find a gap or breach.

She felt the air warm as Milaea leaned closely behind her, her skin still slightly wet making her scent obvious.

“What are you looking for?”

“A crack…to…there…” she stepped back bumping into Milaea ‘accidently’

“Sorry,”

“It’s fine,”

“So if you put your hands here…” Ari pointed

Milaea paused, a slight smile crossing her face

“Show me where exactly,”

Ari reached out and took her warm firm hand, neatly trimmed nails a pastel pink against the creamy skin, and guided Milaea’s hands where she…needed them…had she placed them where she truly wanted them….

Stepping back trying not to let the thought creep too deeply into her aura Ari grabbed the other side.

“OK now…pull!”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 25, 2020, 11:01:42 PM
Chapter 20 —Trials — Means Part 3

Yorna

So far it hadn’t been scary, not truly…even the underwater bits…now it was.

Keeping to her original intent she didn’t use the aether to light up the room, and her torch was now burnt out.  She was in a vast cavern – pitch black and seemingly endless, the wall she had tried to follow stretched on and on in a curve that never seemed to turn back inwards.

Every footstep sent echoes against walls some infinity away.

There seemed to be no end in sight, she had turned but the door she had come through seemed to have vanished…

Swallowing hard Yorna pressed forward, if a test of courage, confidence in her abilities was what this was…she wouldn’t turn back.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea

The door from the room with the Rune puzzle slammed behind them as they entered into the lightless chamber.
Milaea flicked her hand up to create a light orb…the purple light vanishing into the void about her…then she realized the void beside her.
“Ari?,” She spun around, she hadn’t heard or felt her move?

Panic began to set in.

“Ari where are you!”

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

“…can you see any…” she paused, there was nothing near her…no quiet sounds of Milaea’s heart squeezing, no sense of her thermal presence on the edge of her vision, and her presence in the aether suddenly gone.

“Milaea?” she dropped low and spun in a full circle trying to find her as her hand patted the ground seeking heat traces from any steps on the blackheart floor….there were none…

Ari reached out with the aether, trying to find…anything…

Nothingness met her with its anti-presence.

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

(https://i.ibb.co/dkCvLmk/Yor-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/dkCvLmk)

She stepped forward cautiously, for what seemed like hours there had been nothing…then all of a sudden a figure silhouetted in red up ahead.

Her main sight was focused on the figure, but she made sure to check her surrounds as well…not that there was anything to see in the blackness.

Slowly she resolved the figure appeared female given the propositions, the red light glowing off the ‘womans’ skin. 

Is this…Aertemisaea? Yorna slapped her hand over her mouth – she thought she had only thought the words yet somehow they were out loud in her ears, the figuring beginning to turn.

“A more true Goddess my twin…” its voice was richly and strangely accented

The first curve of its face looked familiar, like Karintha, but too soft…like Kiraea but more angular…like…

The Red woman turned to look at her fully, Yorna’s stomachs tightening in recognition…

(https://i.ibb.co/1zgkbQj/Luc-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/1zgkbQj)

It was her, but not her, somehow older and Wrong

“Not Wrong…Divine….” It sang

“Who are you,” Yorna said firmly tensing herself ready for anything.

“I am all you could be and more…your sister, your child perhaps…” it giggled in a sickening way

“I am The Goddess of the Sublime and Profane,”

T’s eyes flared bloody and degraded around the rims

“I am Lucovis,”

<<<<>>>>

Milaea

A spark in the aether, strong and rich with age alerted her something had shifted…in the absence of any sign of Ari, or indeed anything she headed toward it at a half jog through the endless starless sky she seemed to be running in.

There seemed to be no motion of air against her as she moved, as if she ran in a vacuum.  The vergence she had sensed was closer, just on the edge of her…

The snap hiss filled the vacant space around her and she rolled to the side just in time to avoid the blue blade.  Rolling up in a defensive stance she saw a face all too familiar though she had known the bearer for such a short time.

In the blue glow was lit the green slightly aged skin and firm countenance of the Kage of the Mak’tor, the Master Singer Odjina.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

(https://i.ibb.co/Jkv8tgz/Ari-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Jkv8tgz)

 “Milaea!” she shouted again, hearing only the echoes of her words…

Something was very wrong, there were faint traces in the aether of others…five others four seemed very distant, the fifth…closer and yet just as far away in a queer contradiction.

The hard clink of a step on the stone floor that was not her own approached,

“Mil…” her words died as the sparking of what Kazic had taught her as Electric Judgement sprang about the figure…

She knew who it was, yet could not believe he was here…

He was not as fulsome in figure as she knew him, the muscles clearly delineated and striated, the cuts sharp and discerning, bare arms and neck looked as if what little fat he’d possessed had been burned away, his jaw clenched tight, madness in his eyes set within a countenance that could have broken quadranium.

It was Anson D’Aklay.

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

Lucovis strode around in regal theatricality her hair in a tight braid much like Yorna often wore, wearing pure golden armour.

“We are sisters you and I, or perhaps you are my mother by blood…Goddesses both,”

Yorna did not know who or what this thing was meant to be, some kind of hallucination to test her bravery no doubt, to face the worst of herself…and yet the name and strangeness of this Lucovis held a sincerity as if it were a being from a mythic tale brought to life.

“Come my sister,” it outstretched its arms “Join with me in my pantheon,”

Yorna didn’t speak nor move expect to tighten her fists the aether flowing through her limbs – she well knew refusal would not be taken well.

“Well…if you will not embrace your divinity willingly…..”

With speed greater than Yorna could counter Lucovis was on her, hand around her throat.

Without hesitation Yorna kicked out hammering her arm up to break the lock even as she blasted a heavy kinetic wave into Lucovis chest.

Stumbling back the Goddess of the Sublime and Profane laughed at the entertainment afforded by a pointless resistance.

 
<<<<>>>>

Milaea

(https://i.ibb.co/1696cr5/Mr-6.jpg) (https://ibb.co/1696cr5)

 “I don’t want to fight you!” she called to Odjina, but he made no sound except in the aether, a constant rhythmic beat that amplified with each repetition, the battle song stirring to seemingly infinite heights as he approached sheathed in power.

She backed away but prepared a shield to deflect his blows should they come, she had no weapons, but could at least hold of the blade with Force Infused limbs that combined hardening with energy absorption – for a time at least.

Yet she knew this wasn’t real, Odjina was dead, Valens had killed him twice, once in person, and once in Sinkhole station destroying some twisted remnant of his spirit. 

This was the Trial of Aertemisaea, to force Milaea to prove her marital skill against the most terrifying opponent she could imagine…the man she had in her ignorance, and foolish belief in the Jedi, doomed.

Odjina strode forward every inch the Kage, focused, firm and sure as she scurried back afraid.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

 “You did this…” Anson leered his tone had the intensity of a zealot and the confused cadence of a madman.

“You were a spy all along, you brought your psychotic family here…now Galtea is dead, Lus’Phor destroyed and the Vhal’Dan all dead...”

He gripped his sabre so tightly his hand started to bleed

“Now I will avenge them.”

Ari shook her head as she backed away

“No…I don’t know what you’re talking about we left Galtea in peace, you tried to arrest me for no cause, We didn’t kill anybody!”

They had left Galtea as soon as they could after Anson tried to arrest her, she had heard nothing of any deaths or destruction from Saani or Kazic…though she had heard nothing from them at all while she was training with Jarys, and she had been too busy with Milaea on this project.

Anson sneered a momentary instance of emotion on an otherwise steel face

“But you Will, Galtea will burn because of you and the monsters like you…and to prevent that…”

His sabre light bright in his hand

“I kill you now,”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

Golden light mingled with purple glow of energy assailed her from all sides, Lucovis toyed with her nothing more.

Yorna did all she could to counter and escape the assault, but it seemed pointless, there was nowhere in the vast black space to run to, no help coming…

She knew it was a vision quest, yet if she failed could she actually die? And even if she didn’t…would that mean she had lost her chance to be a Guardian?

“Petty concerns, why be one of them when you can be a Goddess with me!”

Lucvois offered between half-hearted slashes and claws with her elongated nails that bit into Yorna’s shoulder leaving red marks.

Yorna had her own goddesses and wanted nothing to do with this thing but to defeat it and prove herself brave, yet as the torturously playful attacks continued she doubted her chances.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea

The very ground buckled and shook as Odjina compressed it to slow her escape, his blade working in quick stabs she batted aside with her bare hands leaving sooty skin.

He couldn’t stop, and worse wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t offer anything to her except justified violence.

“Please stop!” she called not to Odjina but to Aertemisaea herself, she didn’t want to be here, to be doing this, she had to reach Yorna in the past, couldn’t afford to use up energy on this – surely the Goddess understood?

Odjina pressed every harder, boxing her in with telekinetic waves, his sabre getting ever closer and more deadly as he wove patterns in time with his Battlesong to a level of precision beyond what she thought possible for an outsider.

Micro tugs pinned at her ankles, her shoulders felt the invisible hand of a force grip, the blade sung toward her face.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

Could Anson really be here…had he used his flow walking to somehow reach her, driven mad by a vision of the future….it all seemed moot as she duck and dove from his assaults,

Anson was the strongest of the Vhal’dan, and while she might just be able to match him in raw aetheric power, he was the vastly more experienced and practised warrior, only Valens or Jarys would be his equal….her only option was to follow Saani’s advice when facing a superior opponent – strike, retreat, strike then retreat again. 

His blows were ferocious, sending chunks of blackheart flying as he struck the floor, yet there was something frantic in his motions she had never seen when she watched him spar with Kazic, perhaps the power needed to reach her had cost him more than he knew.

“You’ve no one to hide behind now traitor…” he leered advancing as quickly as she rolled and skidded from his blows

“You will answer for the destruction of the Vhal’Dan,”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

 “unnnghhh…” the strangely heeled foot rammed into her breast knocking her flat, Yorna barely rolled to avoid the sweep of Lucovis nails

“Time to finish our game…I grow bored…”

Another foot slammed rapidly pining Yorna’s left leg down painfully

“….you were always the nice one weren’t you, The one who never doubted she knew what was right and ‘fitting’” its smile broad and broken by chapped half rotten lips


“So much more to Profane!” the words dripped with glee as it licked its lips, spittle dripping from its open maw that retched toward her as if to suck in her very soul.

It spoke true in one thing, Yorna was always certain what was right and wrong, what she lacked on occasion was the forcefulness to impose her certainty.  That was why Taran had sent her here.  That was why she faced a hideous self-indulgent version of her body that was equally self-righteous but had only itself to focus on - no People, no culture, no gods, to temper it.

The barely connected teeth were black and hungry for her flesh as knife like nails dug into her sides.

Yorna smelt the breath of sickly sweet decayed meat millimetres from being absorbed.

She unleashed.

The zealous fury that the creature was wrong, guided by her convictions born of her trust in her People and their ways became manifest as glowering yellow and red flames that stabbed like needles through Lucovis body as Yorna head butted straight into the open mouth shattering the jaw.

Yorna would use all her strength to do what was best for herself and the People, never holding back again.  And in this moment is meant tearing this filthy perverted creature to shreds.

Chunks of Lucovis flesh already half rotted from ecstatic revels were sheared off by Yorna’s precision flames, a family trait Kiraea and Karintha shared, rising up on inferno wings she smashed every piece of the creature she could reach with blazing fury that bit by bit turned it into an ashen pile.

Defeated and drained Lucovis died a second death in flames at the hand of an Aethan.


<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

There was nowhere to run, no way to avoid the confrontation – but she had never intended to. 

Anson seemed more and more skeletal as he progressed, he had always been muscular but usually maintained a healthy level of fat, now he seemed drawn and underfed as he slashed and darted at her.

“Your traitorous parents can’t save you!”

She ignored his words – there was a time on Galtea when yes she would’ve needed Saani and Kazic to protect her – but not anymore.

Not only had she been taught by her adoptive parents, but now also Kiraea and Jarys, sparred with every Aethan known, fought and defeated Revenant Wraith and Shades, even a Banshee.  She was no longer a young girl who needed to fear the stern Arbiter.

Remembering that fact steeled her to herself.

Ari might not have the experience to match Anson yet, but her teachers certainly did - and part of that was to wear down Outsiders – force them to use their energy chasing and keeping up with Aethan speed and strength – then unleash. 

Already haggard at the start Anson was now wheezing, his blood shot eyes darting and frantic desperate to kill her as she made to roll back – then pivoted and surged forward.

Fist balled she hammered into his abdomen with dual upper cuts – he swung down but she used Valens trick of micro teleporting to shunt herself – landing to the side she rose into a round house kick straight into Ansons back – connecting with her shin she used the contact point to lever herself up – combining lessons from Saani on acrobatics and using environmental structures as launch points with a modification from Kiraea to stay on top of a larger opponent to deny them reach.

She half swung up his back and wrapped her legs around Ansons neck while cutting down with her elbows into his shoulders.  A crack on the left told her one was dislocated.  With 275 kilo’s of Aethan woman on his back Anson near collapsed as she swung back and loosened her grip hurling him down with the momentum.

He crashed – she rolled - then flipped back forward and went straight for the head – balling in the air he raised his sabre to defend – she caught the energy blade in her hand as dismissively as Jarys could catch a blaster bolt, then landed knees first into his gnashing teeth.

Recalling Kazics instruction she wasted no time disarming the flailing body even as she felt him die.

“Never leave your enemy armed – even their corpse,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 25, 2020, 11:07:12 PM
Chapter 20 —Trials — Means Part 4
The Last Trial
The Song surrounded her in ever building waves of perfectly tuned ferocity and focus – the Master Singer confident in himself and the Force as his ally to strengthen him.

There was no avoiding it now, she was increasingly constrained, the annoyance at being forced to this rising…

“ENOUGH!!!!”

Her scream shattered the cocoon of song, discordant harmonies infecting Odjina’s battle rhythm, twisting it back into itself, the twi’lek cringing at the backwash but still on guard.

Lifting her hand she pulled – not at his hand or body – but the sabre’s pure energy – the blade distorted to a warbling frequency as she soaked up the power - her hand glowing white blue in an instant – just as Odjina hit the activator to deny her more power she released the build-up back at him.

A dozen false arcs distracted his defences as the main energy pulse wound forward – vanishing in the distortion of time-space she created to hit his heart and brain without going through his torso or skull first.

Critical organs vaporized by the energy of his own sabre he flopped away as Milaea felt an uncomfortably enjoyable sensation of pride in her dismissive destruction of a Kage Master Singer.

The Goddess of battle and hunting had tested her, forcing her to confront and defeat someone she felt guilty about harming. Milaea felt an irritation at the nature of the trial, the callousness of it as the darkness that had surrounded her faded revealing…the central room she and Ari had started from hours ago – the statue of the Goddess seemingly satisfied with her efforts.

Milaea’s hands still tingled with energy, her body primed still for battle as she sensed a presence resolve nearby –

Ari was on her knees looking down at something that wasn’t there anymore, no doubt having had her own vision – her presence in the aether firm, resolved and bright – surprisingly bright, while all Aethans were strong in the aether, there was a gradient still at which Milaea and Valens were at the top, Jarys and Kiraea a step down, Melron a tad lower and then the others below the old Guardians – Ari it seemed was roughly between Melron and Kiraea but certainly had the potential to reach higher.

Ari looked up to Milaea a weary smile, her hair slightly sweaty, then looked to the side…there was a third presence here…it was

familiar…old…but…new?  Yorna thought as she looked around the main room at where the two other presences were, they seemed strangely distant, yet also close…as if they were all in a heightened state after or during a fight like she was…

“Strange…maybe it’s another test…is someone there?”


The thin whispers of a voice decades old stirred across the time in this aether rich place.

“Now,” Milaea quickly called to Ari who leapt up instantly toward her, Milaea turned to focus on the presence, it was frustratingly out of reach, a speck on the horizon one can’t quite focus on…

She pushed firmer toward it as Ari wrapped her hands around Milaea’s waist, a tingle thought Milaea’s body that had nothing to do with the raw energy Ari was supplying.

The presence grew, warm and feminie – was it one of the Goddesses? Had Yorna done something wrong?

It was welcoming…but somewhat…strained as if weighed down by a burden it needed to unload – on her specifically.

Yorna stepped back drawing the aether defensively around her uncertain as to its intentions,


“She’s pulling back”…Ari gritted her face buried in Milaea’s hair as she squeezed out all the energy she could, the heat rising with red glowing power off Milaea

“She’s scared…we shouldn’t be this is the Goddesses place…she might test us but we’re always safe!” Milaea called

That makes sense…Yorna thought happily…the Goddess would not allow her to come to any real harm, and the presence seemed worried, in need of help, as a Guardian it was Yorna’s privilege to help all People who needed her help.

She reached forward in the aether and with her hand, the tendrils of energy connecting Yorna’s blue tinged power mixing with a deep red to form a translucent purple across space time.

In the darkness of the caverns an explosion of light filled every corner as Yorna’s hand touched another –

A Divine form in blazing red glow took her hand, the face slightly vague but the power…it had to be a Goddess!

“Aertemisaea?” she asked


Milaea had no time to explain her identity to Yorna, each moment counted – if Yorna thought she were the Goddess – which as every woman was part of the Goddesses was true - all the better she would be open to whatever Milaea said.

“Yorna…Listen to me, you need to make a special orb quickly following my instruction, fill it with your presence as strongly as you can, and anyone else who can manage it, then create an Aether crystal with your blood – hide them both somewhere your sister can find them in a few decades…”

The Goddess instructed to a stunned Yorna

“Of course…just tell me how to make it….” She replied without question

“Open yourself and I’ll teach you…” the Goddess reached out with her other hand as Yorna let down all resistance, even the sub-conscious mental guards old Andis said to never remove –after all she was safe with the Goddess…


Her mind fully open Ari boosted her flow to mingle with Milaea’s pushing in the instructions for the ‘Revival Orb’ and Blood Crystal across the long years to Yorna,

she could feel the knowledge pour in like when she learnt as a child, but this was more specific, more precise, there was a second voice – it must be Aethenaea who had come up with this clever orb…Yorna didn’t pause to wonder the why or how, just took in all she could as the tingling hands gripped hers and their minds connected.

The strain was getting too much, Milaea was beginning to wobble on her feet, seeing into the past, even flow walking was draining enough, breaching time to transmit specific instructions like this took all she had.

”I understand…” Yorna said as the last details fell into her mind, the logic of the device she was to build and how to use it firm,”

“Do it quickly!”
Milaea enjoined as Yorna’s face became transparent, her hands slipping through the image.

”I will I promise!” Yorna called as the image vanished into the black of the cavern.[/i]

“Nnnggg…” Ari at her limits collapsed onto Milaea, they toppled over in a heap, Milaea barely steading on the floor.  Her last ounces of strength she tugged Ari’s head up onto her breast feeling her heavy unconscious breathing for only a few moments before she fell into a sleep of her own.

<<<<>>>>

Her head hurt more than it ever had, but the instructions were clear…

Yorna bent down hands on her knees tired from the long trip into the caverns, the fight and now seeing the Goddess…

She wondered in half coherent thoughts about how she got back to the main room – the whole caverns must move in a circle using hidden passages like the traps that had foiled her earlier…

For a moment Yorna felt herself drifting to sleep…but she couldn’t, wouldn’t risk the message of the Goddess being lost.

Swallowing back her exhaustion she pushed up and ran out to the caverns entrance, eyes quickly adjusting to the dusk light outside peppered with luminescent insects, and two figures dark in the moonless night.

“Yorna…” Karintha ran up to her gripping her arms as Taran quickly moved beside them

“Aunty…you have to…the Goddess told me something important…” she had little aetheric strength left but pushed into her aunt’s mind

“You have to take it too so we don’t forget, it’s important, we have to do it right away,”

Karintha quickly glanced to Taran who was staring hard at the caverns entrance, something unusual in the aether having caught her Guardian Husbands eye, he briefly nodded,

Karintha had already told him of all that transpired with the future girl Xanaea while Yorna was in the caverns, clearly the Goddesses were arranging with great care something very important.

Without hesitation Karintha began following their guidance.

<<<<>>>>

The silence of the cave was broken only by their occasional breathing. 

Who woke first was unimportant, but for a long time both Ari and Milaea lay against each other in half woken states, bodies recovered after the sleep – albeit very hungry – but their aetheric presences still raw and sensitive from over exertion.

“Do you think it worked?” Ari asked quietly at last

“We have to believe…the Goddesses helped us all they could making sure we were all primed to go across time…” Milaea replied somewhat more reconciled to the trial against Odjina if it helped save People.

For a long while they simply lay, too tired to move and yet, feeling all the more energised for being together.

Finally stirring they found a secret ladder that lead back to the central chamber, pushing out behind the statue they had entered behind - the trial caverns looping around - by another extraordinarily well hidden opening.

They were surprised to see Kassyndra, Selaena, Xani and Kiraea waiting for them.

“There you are!” the youngest rushed to hug them.

Kassyndra immediately attended to the young women checking them over.

“I didn’t think we’d been gone that long,” Ari said weary

“Just over a day, Xani called for us the very minute you passed the limit,” Kiraea explained
“What happened in there?”

“We can explain on the way,” Milaea said

“First, Kiraea, where would Yorna hide something she needed to keep safe for a long time,”

Confused but carried by Milaea’s determination Kiraea replied swiftly

“We had a tree house when we were little, the trunk was hollowed out, we would leave each other secret notes and put toys we made in there,”

“Then that is the first place we look,”

“Not until you’ve recovered,” Kiraea said firmly, “I’ll go,”

“I know what to look for!” Xani said excitedly

Ari simply nodded

“There’s no time to waste, they may have waited long enough already,”

Provided food and drink by Kassyndra and Selaena they told them about the events in the cavern.

Phase 2 of Project Persephaea had succeeded, so far as they knew…now…

Now came the true test.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 07, 2021, 10:07:18 PM
Chapter 21 — The Black Obelisk — Part 4
The Steppe
(https://i.ibb.co/VJ32CtF/S-6.png) (https://ibb.co/VJ32CtF) (https://i.ibb.co/59J3HWR/Jen-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/59J3HWR)
Face semi scrunched Sofa paced back and forward as if she could walk off the consternation of her current position.

Sitting on a rock with a bored sigh was Jenaea.  Her recovery was now complete enough she could begin Guardian training, but to the shock of everyone, not the least of which the woman pacing before her, the ‘Senior’ Guardians - for want of a better term given the fluid nature of Aethan leadership that relied on unspoken (Sofa would argue incomprehensible) rules of merit or matriarchy that varied in different situations – had determined she should be the one to teach Jenaea.

Neither Jenaea nor Sofa were convinced this was not actually some kind of joke at both their expenses, a show of little confidence in Jenaea, and a slight at Sofa for being a ‘made not born’ Aethan rubbing salt into both of their insecurities.

Added to this was the irritation – for Sofa at least - that after making the announcement her husband and her ‘sister’ had absconded off to Carratos to ‘investigate the disappearance of Xanaea’s parents’

Valens and Kiraea were more often than not thick as thieves in their sadistic vengeances and megalomaniac plots, without either herself, Milaea or Jarys there to ‘reign them in’ she could only imagine what they were getting up to.

For Jenaea the idea of having to do anything was an annoyance, she had revelled in her protracted holiday, idling away the hours eating, sleeping, visiting Maeson’s orchards, making pots and other ceramics when she felt so inclined – revelling in having the choice to spend her time as she pleased. 

Now having to learn all these extra things, even if it was for her own self-protection, seemed like unnecessary imposition. 

“When are we starting,” Jenaea’s increasingly sardonic voice cut the still air of the Steppe, the traditional training ground of the Guardians, the absences of anything but gravel and rocks meant, firstly extremes of Aetheric lighting and fire couldn’t rally damage anything, secondly there was nothing to look at or distract you from yourself unless you were a determined geologist or keen on the harsh icy winds blow off the more glacial mountains to the north.

Neither especially wanted to be here, or really knew what they ought to be doing.  And perhaps Sofa realised that was the whole point, to emphasize all that mutual teaching stuff to increase the range of innovative techniques and abilities Valens was so keen on.

“Might as well start now…” Sofa replied with a weary pause in her pacing.  She had been a Jedi Master after all, she should be able to do a reasonable job…although admittedly she had leaned on Soryu a lot in teaching Milaea and had been more older sister than traditional master…and Jedi training was far less geared toward preparing you to kill everything that wasn’t of your species….though Jedi admittedly had their own large share of threats they had to prepare for she could draw on that….

“…OK…so do you know any martial arts, anything you picked up while…” Sofa didn’t bother finish her sentence as Jenaea eyed her incredulously, she’d been chained by electro shock collars for years, of course she didn’t have any experience or training.

“Alright what do you have then…” Sofa looked the woman over visually, thermally, and aetherically.

“Irritation at having to do anything you don’t want to, bitter anger and bloodlust against all Outsiders…standard Aethan fare…a history of being used and abused…”

A plan began to coalesce in Sofa’s mind, a way to encourage Jenaea to do more than learn by rote, to actively want to do this rather than see it as a chore.

“I know what that is like, to be exhausted, depleted, then cast off told to shut up, by people who don’t care, can’t ever understand how their minute of exploitation causes you to feel worthless for decades after…”

Jenaea began to how some interest, Sofa would need to back up such statements, she would be forced to share her own darker moments to gain Jenaea’s trust…

You clever bitch… Sofa thought, Kiraea and Valens had known exactly what she would have to do, had done it deliberately – Jenaea and Sofa could bond and train over their mutual desire to neve be used and abused as they had been again…
Damn fifth level causation chaining, how do I keep missing it Sofa sighed inwardly

“You want your power back, you have the tools, you just have to use them, you’ve got the biology, neurology and aetheric power to keep yourself from ever being dominated and controlled again, that’s what you want isn’t it,”

Jenaea’s face betrayed no obvious sign of interest, only incredulity.

“Sounds great and all…but…”

“But what, you got a taste of a fight on Boonta Shagplan, didn’t that feel good, cutting into those scum,” Sofa could hardly believe what she was saying sometimes, it sounded like a Dark recruitment line

“It did but…”

“Then the high wore off, and you’re back to square one…” Sofa’s countenance softened and she walked over to Jenaea crouching down to get to eye level and extending her hand.

“For some people, Selaena, Kiraea - they have so much anger it keeps them sharp all the time, on edge and fiery, for Melron and Maeson, they are down more often than not, but plod along steady all the same…for Us It’s like a grav-coaster, you’re up, then down, then up…and the ride won’t end…”

Jenaea reached out in the aether, feeling the sincerity of Sofa’s words, the echoes of fatigue at fighting to keep her own trauma’s from overwhelming her on days when it was triggered…but also a hope that for weeks, sometimes months at a time, it was not so all consuming, there were placid moments.

“That’s what I can…not teach you - we’re all different…but at least be with you while you try and find a way to live with it…all the other stuff I’m meant to teach, Saber forms, telekinetic tricks and lighting flares…all that will flow with instinctive delving in between out Aethenaea cortices…”

Trusting that the other Guardians had made the right choice in her teacher Jenaea finally extended her hand to take Sofa’s. 

Jenaea needed someone less physical than Jarys, less aggressive than Kiraea and certainly more empathetic than Valens to learn how to defend herself – Sofa best combined the traits with lived experience to reach her.

“So….” Jenaea asked slowly “how do I break someone’s hand if they try and grab me….”

<<<<>>>

The Mountain
(https://i.ibb.co/3W6w3L0/Kass-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/3W6w3L0)
Her fingers worked the threads through the large bolt as her mind tapped away at the keyboard.

Kassyndra had taken on much of the administrative duties of running the Indigenous Peoples Habitat Protection and Reclamation Trust – the Not For Profit entity that, through Valens Mind Control and Lyr’Ca’Njo’s shyster like shrewdness owned the majority stake in several banks channelling funds tax free to them to buy goods, both for themselves and for the Chiss – shipped to automated Space platforms then to the Aethas system, some onward to Csilla or the Chiss Colonies.

It was not a difficult task for a being with six levels of genius level conscious thought, but was time consuming.

Kassyndra was happy to do it, it freed Milaea and Adaea to work on their revival project, Maeson, Selaena and her children to work on the farms, Kiraea, Jarys and Valens to follow up any leads and Melron to continue training Taryn.

“How is that going?” she asked even before the door fully open as the old Guardian stepped into the office deep in the Mount Aelia Fortress

“Still a bit brash, but we can smooth that soon enough…Lyaea did a good job piecing him back together in a more normal way.”

This time there would be no mistakes in the editing of his personality to something more fitting.

“True that,” Melron agreed with her thoughts,

“Valens and Jarys have plans for that boy, he’s got far more space warfare experience than any of us in pirate raids, smash and grab, boarding, he’ll make a fine commander if we ever need the whole fleet in action, that pirate flair with a bit of Chiss tactical precision.”

He gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk
“May I,”
“Of course,”
“So do you plan to go to the Academy with the Boys, learn from the Chiss?” he asked settling down opposite her.

“I think so…I want to be able to help as much as I can…protect as much as I can, if that means having to spend some months among the Chiss…”

Melron nodded understanding her reluctance especially so soon after being reunited with her Granddaughter.

“It’s hard, so much time we’ve lost with the younger ones, they’ve grown without us, and beyond us…” Melron said his eyes downcast

“This isn’t a life we could’ve prepared them for, even more for us to learn than there is for them,”

Kassyndra set down her needle work and leaned forward, her supportive aura in advance of her words.

“But they still need us old timers,” her smile was youthful as her lively eyes, even though her face still held some trace of long hurt years.
“Your boy Taryn needs some stability, a Father to show him how to be a man…”

“Can’t say I’ve much talent in that…” was his rueful whisper

“You never gave up Melron, you found your way back from the darker places of your heart, and even before that you were there, you might have taken some time to catch up but you were still there for Valens, Kiraea, the girls,”

He could sense in her compliment the regret that she had not been there for her daughters or granddaughter. 

Another time he might argue the point, but Kassyndra had a mother’s firmness even in her softest compliments that kept him from dwelling.

“Don’t underestimate what just being here meant, even if they didn’t come to you, knowing they can is just as important….Milaea is grown, in many ways more aged than I, but I’m here if she needs me, even if she doesn’t for months on end, it’s enough to be there.”

“Wise words…you should go to the Academy, it’s interesting, the Chiss are a strange bunch but you get used to them, and they have much to teach…and I think all of us will be needing those skills in the years to come…and…”

She raised a brow at his pause

“I’d feel better if you were there to watch over the young ones, and I’ll watch over the ones here,”

They both smiled at the idea of playing the parent to all the others, for perhaps they were in a way no less profound for being so discrete.

<<<<>>>>

Like a Krebee Xanaea flitted from room to room, youthful excitement adding a preternatural speed to her steps.

She paused mid strike skidding along the grey tiled floor, double checking she had the right canister…well triple checking.

It was a very big and important thing they were doing, and she had to make sure she did all her tasks correctly as well as quickly.

Coming into the main theatre the others had almost everything in place.

Two vast Blackstone Altars were ready, at the head of each a raised area with a circular indentation into which the Aura Orbs of Yorna and Karintha would be placed.

Atop the main bed of each was a large sealed amnio-vats with various pipes trailing off to trolleys loaded with canisters such as the one she carried, full of condensed nutrient solutions to provide the raw material for their bodies to be regrown from the carbon diamonds that held their blood and tissue samples locked away so long ago.

Milaea was checking the ‘Yorna’ Crystal which they would use first, Ari close to her as always.  Selaena adding a few last blasts of energy to the Altars – the men had already spent the better part of a fortnight filling them to the brim with aetheric energy, resting, then doing it all again – indeed everyone had contributed, even Xani had, but only twice as she was still too young and needed her strength her Aunt Selaena said.

“Here,” Lyaea called out across the room, Xani tossed the canister to her sister who caught it easily,

“Make sure everything is within arms reach of the altar then get two more, we’ll start after that,” Lyaea instructed her little sister, tone firm for the seriousness of the occasion.

Having Xani around had forced Lyaea to become more…mature…to provide a better example to the girl – of course she could still be flippant and together they would play pranks on Taryn and Lydan – vanishing their boots while they wore them, hiding Gobrils in their satchels and the like, but she had to show Xanaea she could be serious when the situation called for it.

“OK, don’t start without me!”

While too long to participate directly in the reanimation, Xanaea had a keen interest in watching and helping where she could.

“We won’t,” Milaea smiled from across the room.

Hurrying off but making sure to keep focused Xani brought all the tools and instruments toward the first altar. 

She understood the basic of what had to happen, they regrew the body in the vat from the sample at the same time as gently infusing the cells with the aura held and channelled over time from the Aura Orb as the body developed to ensure the bond was perfect.  Still it seemed very complex when she tried to feel out the aether about the instruments.

It was no surprise, Xani learned quickly but the complexity of this operation stretched even Ari’s mind.  Though Ari had helped tweak the calculations and smooth the edges it was largely Milaea’s original synthesis of the Sith Alchemy, Aethan Healing and Revenant regeneration that made such a revival even remotely possible, let alone the complexities of creating the orb and communicating across decades

“Possible but not easy,” Milaea said beside her as they confirmed with the multi-spectral scanner the samples within the blood crystal were sufficient.

“Let’s hope we never had to do anything like this again…” Ari half joked

“I just hope it actually works…”

Ari quickly took her hand

“It will, but even if it didn’t what you’ve developed here, entirely new methods of healing, necromancy, temporal communication, it’s a feat greater than many of the Jedi Sages of Sith Alchemists of old, you’ve taken what they developed and built stories over it.”

“What we’ve done, I couldn’t have done this without you Ari…”

Lyaea waited eagerly for what everyone else was waiting to happen…

But instead the two women awkwardly parted to opposite sides of the altar as Xanaea rushed in with the last canisters.

“What’s wrong Lya?” the teen asked seeing her older sisters bemused expression
“What happened?”

“Nothing yet....nothing yet,”

<<<<>>>>

The Obelisk Array

The work was complex, it should occupy all their thoughts…yet it barely kept the anticipation let alone worry at bay.

All the women, excepting Sofa and Jenaea, were in the Mount Aelia facility preparing to implement Milaea’s ‘Project Persephaea’ to cross the river of the dead and bring Yorna and Karintha back.

This left the men, depleted from charging the Altars the women would need to the full over the last few weeks, with the task of installing the Fourth Obelisk.

This would bring the array to just over 1/3 of its potential.  The last 5 Obelisks to complete the set of Nine were in varying stages of development, 3 were being enchanted, one recently mined and needed to be crafted to shape, the last they had only just found a large enough Blackstone Vein to mine it from.

“This will succeed…” Jarys said beside his brother as their finger tinged with blue energy worked the Orbs and conduits, well aware Valens had doubts given his own failures to revive Shilea and Cilina. 

The method by which Milaea was attempting this was radically different, and importantly she had Ari to assist her who was an equal in her enthusiasm and expertise in more biological Aetheric techniques.

“I have confidence both in Milaea, Ari, and Karintha and Yorna,” Jarys explained excitement still in his voice to think his friend and mentor might return.

Much relied on Yorna and Karintha having accurately followed Milaea’s instructions for creating the Orbs, Crystals and pushing themselves out through the Orb when they ‘died’. 

None of these things could be tested, and much could’ve gone wrong, even the simplest word or enchantment instruction distorted by the time through which they spoke, an accident no one could be blamed for, could cause the whole thing to fail, if they were knocked unconscious before dying, unable to send their minds across even…

“If any of us could’ve done what Milaea and Ari needed it was them,”

“I know…” Valens replied quietly

“I only wish more could’ve tried…Cadyn, Ylaea…”

“Grandfather…”

“and Mother…everyone…”

“I wish they could’ve met her…” Jarys sighed head low in the shadow of the dim plant room, the light from the lumens all but entirely eaten by the endless stretches of Blackstone conduits.

“Milaea that is, seen what a woman she is becoming, powerful, intelligent, compassionate…”

Jarys pride in Milaea was uplifting but also saddening, that he hadn’t been there for her as a child, or even known of her existence, was an open sore that Valens knew his brother drew on to enhance his ferocity in battle to levels even Valens couldn’t reach.

“Everything in place,” Jarys readopted the controlled focused tone of the guerrilla leader he had been among the Sons.

“Everything,” Valens confirmed.  With each additional Obelisk the installation proved easier and more streamlined as they gained experience and increasingly improved the overall system as they learned more.

They would need that precision.

Kiraea and Xani had actual found three Revival orbs in her childhood tree house, Karintha and Yorna’s and a third belonging to Taran. 

However unlike the other two, Taran’s was dull – at first they had thought it due to degradation over time, or an error in the creation.

The Truth was more exciting and worrying – it was simply that Taran was still – alive somewhere, his aura had not been released from his body to fill the orb.

“We will find him…” Jarys said firmly,

Valens agreed,

“He must be somewhere trapped, perhaps like Aresaea was on a planet without much space faring technology,”

Taran was, in his time, third in strength behind Old Andis and Karintha, physically stronger than both, indeed only Jarys now fully mature would exceed him.  That he survived was not overly surprising, but it was clear he never made it to the Nar Shadda markets, if he had Taran would’ve rallied the others including Jarys who were there, no amount of Gamorreans or Weequay slave drivers could’ve held an adult male Guardain like Taran for long. He must’ve been traded or escaped on the way there.

Knowing he was alive meant they could try and tune the obelisk to seek him directly, Karintha as his wife would be best placed to attempt such a search when recovered.

For now they would ensure the maximum number of Obelisks were online to assist at that time.

Blue energy from his fingertips Jarys began the activation and synchronization procedures, praying to all the Goddesses Milaea’s task succeeded just as easily.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 07, 2021, 10:08:41 PM
Chapter 21 — The Black Obelisk — Part 4
Between Worlds

(https://i.ibb.co/GW137cq/Kar-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/GW137cq)
Blood and Terror filled the night.  The mirror image of a day so filled with celebration and life was darkness laced with Death.

Where they had come from, why, how, all these questions were irrelevant for the time being.

All that concerned Yorna and her Aunt atop the Blacksmiths was fighting back.

The air was filled with sounds they had never heard, the goblins and daemons wielded strangely fashioned metal rods that fired lighting…but it was a strange lighting, it was not alive, not like aetheric lighting at all.

Another bolt hit, sending tingles up Yorna’s back.  Without delay Karintha spun round to grip the creature with her mind and squeeze it into a ball of postulated green blood and filthy grey meat.

Karintha was the strongest woman among the people, and even she was struggling to target the creatures in their metal or shimmering shells.  They were not of this land, their aetheric presence was strange and hideous, they needed time to adapt to pin pointing them with lighting and flame.

It was time they did not have as the screams of a dozen women and children erupted as the invaders set of some ind of large bang to level a building they tried to hide in.

In the main street Old Andis was using his bulk and speed to crash through the throngs heading toward the vague sense of ‘control’ among them – the leader – in the air Valens ripped apart metal floating carts…

Until one had turned into fire and crashed him into a long house.

Jarys thrashed and tore amidst a group of green snout faced creatures, their long glowing weapons kept him at bay, but when one made the slightest slip he ripped them in two like a mad vorynx…even so he couldn’t last forever.

None of them could, the goblins seemed endless in number.

Fingers tingling and eyes sore from aetheric overuse already Yorna pooled up two more heavy bolts of lightning seeking the life force- however perverted – of the creatures below.  The first hit and chained to a nearby creature, the second bounced off a magic green shield that gave the creature time to take cover.

Gripping the cobble stones she raised them upward to dislodge the creature, cursing she hadn’t brought her bow and arrow.  It stumbled upward amidst the stones that she then accelerated as fast as a snow hawk to clobber it to death with a hundred tiny blows.

Her attention was divided, four levels on the fight, one looking for her sister, the last prepared in accordance with the Goddesses instructions from her trial.

She couldn’t find Kiraea,…she was hopefully hiding with the other girls she had been talking with, likely supressing her aura, her little sister was always the most skilled with hiding among them.

“There seems no end…” Karintha gritted with frustration as more and more appeared, each of them seemed to be a different type of goblin, perhaps dwarves and dark aelves, other with tentacle heads like sea creatures, they couldn’t ‘learn’ how to target them quick enough.

“We have to move to the moun...nnngggaaa!”

“Aunt!”

There was a switch below, a more ferocious intent from the creatures, they no longer fired the blue energy that made their bodies tingle and feel numb, now it was red bolts…a bolt that burnt through Karintha’s casual clothes and caused a searing burnt welt.

Yorna looked from the wound to her Aunt’s eyes, four, perhaps five of those blasts they could survive…but no more.

“They’re trying to kill us now…”

Shot after shot struck her, she could feel the cauterizing burn dig channels into her muscles slowly but inexorably.

The slavers nearby, a gaggle of gamorreans, Rodians, tiw’leki and disgraced Mandalorians and others were by now inured to the punishment there quarry could take, two Mando’s hefted up a repeater, it was the only way to get through these creatures tough as leather skin.

The raid was already costing them too much in manpower, the creatures of the Maker forsaken deep core world would fetch a good price, but would be hell to transport back.

Yorna glimpsed the creatures assembling a strange device that looked like an oversized version of their lightning sticks, even as she dodged and blocked the blasts she could she knew this new thing was a far greater danger.

Without a word Karintha sensed her intent and moved to help shield her niece who leapt from the roof into the thick of the fighting. 

Desperate blue energies covered her body deterring the melee attackers – for a moment at least as she found her strength and speed far greater than the goblins and demons when one on one.

She crushed, sliced and battered her way forward, but the tide of foul abominations was endless.  A loud click and whirring sound like the churning of the ocean heralded the large devices completion. 

Tossing off one large swine faced creature she leapt to the side to avoid the cascade of horizontal yellow rain that turned the building behind her to so much charred splintered wood.

Karintha fell through the roof taken by surprise, the yellow cold heated bolts were everywhere, striking her already blackened arms as strange balls rolled at her feet electrifying her instinctive sense of danger tenfold. 

With what energy she had left she hurled the thermal detonator away – but not far enough.

As Yorna landed boot first into the chest of a blue tentacle faced creature she felt the empathic distress through her bond with her aunt followed by a sharp burst of energy as Karintha fulfilled the Goddesses tasks and sent her presence from her body to the Orb they had been instructed to create.

Now…only now did it all…Yorna could not say make sense…but at least…seem to bind the events she had experienced.

Questions of why the Goddesses had not warned them sooner, what they would do with the orb trapping Karintha’s spirit had to wait.

The hideous yellow rain fire device spun in her direction never ceasing the ‘tvump tvump’ sound of expelling its hideous projectiles.

The whole village was ablaze, People were dying every second, more were terrified and cornered by the creatures cowed by their incomprehensible words and weapons.

She could sense none of the Guardians anymore but Old Andis…and he was ahead a blaze of pure aetheric energy battering a creature encased in unknown metals.  Jarys who had been slaughtering in every direction was finally unconscious, she couldn’t even sense Yiraea or Calyn, Valens too was simply gone, even Taran, her uncle lost in the dark.

Yorna could only do what she could do. 

She charged the crazed machine and its attendants, hacking with her now broken sword, slashing with her off hand, her fingers managing to dig into two of a creatures three eyes popping them violently. 

The blast came now from every side and in every colour, red, green, blue, yellow – her Flame shield soaked some – given time she could’ve learnt a way to absorb the energy but there was none…

The slow motion of the creatures let her upper cut one and knee another, dodge a glowing blade and hurl her sword – now little more than a pockmarked stick after blocking so many hundreds of blasts – into another creatures grossly exaggerated stomach.

Finally reaching the device as her aetheric energy reached it limits, any senses of fatigue or pain cut off by combat hormones she did what she could, grabbing the heated barrel of the repeater and yanking it up in one motion, idling noticing her left leg was no longer strong enough to support her and the smell of burnt flesh was oozing from it.

She swung the device about her smacking creatures into the ruins of what had once been lodgings, then hurled it into one of the flying carts high above, grim satisfaction to see it explode and crash.

The fire came thick and fast now, her body was barely able to stand, a withering flash dehydrated wreck, but Yorna had no fear, no regret, she would trust in the Goddesses, would follow their instructions.

Casting the ruined flesh adrift she tunnelled her mind to the hidden Orb, everything went dark for a moment, all sensation and sense lost.

A momentary blackout before she beheld a strange vista of infinite colours, waves and thoughts given energetic form in a sea of incomprehensible complexity as though for a moment she beheld the aether itself in all its abundant variety.

Then there was  stillness, a pause, a vague sense that around her was the red bloodstone of the orb.

Just as she began to feel settled and calm once more, about to pre-contemplate the nature of the ‘space’ bright flashes flickered before her…eyes?

Heat traces flared in her thermal senses. Weight of nearby bodies matching those profiles aligned in her vestibular mass senses to give evidence to the presence of others.

Waves of beating air molecules created sound.  An ever rising pulse of the aether was drawing her forward and out…and out…an…

“Ghhhhhaaaaaaaaa”

“She’s breathing!” Ari yelled excited as Milaea poured more and more energy, binding the rapidly grown body to the presence being teased out of the Orb and across space time.

The Revenant methods of ‘healing’ which were really an inelegant jump restart of homeostatic processes were now put into effect with graceful Aethan modifications. 

The senseless body regrown under their raw power using Sith alchemy and Technocracy methods over the last weeks now fully enlivened with the technique by Ari.

Her mind was linked to Milaea’s co-ordination at every possible level was essential to blend the bodily resuscitation with a souls insertion.

Their bond, deep, fluid and strong as any among the Peoples developed over the last few months enabled them to achieve this – they were truly one mind across two bodies.

Yorna felt the tingle of her skin, strange smells assail her olfactory senses, a deep feeling of ravenous hunger for food. Yet it was all tentative, on the edge of experience….

“She’s slipping, mother!” Lyaea monitoring the overall situation as a cross check called.

Selaena added her strength where she could, powerful as any average Jedi Master, she was eclipsed by Ari and Milaea who burned like suns.  She surged raw extra energy into Milaea’s binding efforts –

It was working, there was no more slippy back and forth, the sensations Yorna felt were stable, but not firm.

 “Xani get….”  The youngest Aethan had already rushed to get the oldest woman, Kassyndra now rushing in to add her power to Ari.

Lyaea wasted no time joining her mother as Xani and Kassyndra entered to help.

Yorna fought as hard as she could climbing with invisible hands the tenuous dis-real cord out of a kind of stasis like death back into life, but only the others could bring her through.

One side Kassynda, Adaea, Lyaea, Xani and Selaena worked to pull her through time, on the other Ari and Milaea who incredibly were using aeths at a rate higher than the other five combined stitched the soul to the body.

In the center, her time finally arriving Kiraea reach out a hand to each side and by luminous bands of pure energy bound the two together and expanded her presence.

Yorna in the flickering new world felt the sudden appearance of her sister, an anchor to throw the rope of her returning life around and haul herself up.

The air smelled burnt from electricity, their legs wavered under exhaustion, nutrient drips hooked up to the new body grown from the old blood exploded or flash fried.  The Mountain itself seemed to tremble under the enormity of what was occurring.

But for the fact it was composed of aether absorbent Blackstone the energies unleashed would’ve been sensed across the Core and inner rim.

Just as Xani began to swoon from her efforts, as Milaea gripped Ari’s arm to keep her upright, and a shot of fear ran through Kiraea that they might not make it….

Stillness…quiet…Temporal distortions about the Revival Orb paused, tensions relaxed across astral plains.

Yorna’s eyes opened.
<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 15, 2021, 02:36:46 AM
Remnant — Part 4 — Dominance

“Commander,” Sixth said with a nod of respect, “We have discovered that A Sith Lord continues to rule on Prakith, I suggest we venture there next,”

He gestured behind him “Third and Fourth have secured the best…quality…vessels we could find, Seventh and Fifth are at this moment assembling provisions with the Abyssian worshippers,”

Ninth simply indicated assent in the aether.

“I concur, if we can find a real Sith still ruling…we can overthrow the Lord and take their demnses resources for ourselves,”

Byss had resources but the allocation of ownership was diffuse, even accounting for the Abyssian slaves population.

It would be too difficult for the six of them to impose their authority, each baronage was too under resourced to provide what they needed, and the internecine conflicts too endemic to impose their control over multiple ones.

Leaving Byss to fall into chaos was preferable. 

Much easier was to kill a System Lord and take his place, lieutenants would fall into line with a short cull of the ambitious and underlings would shrug and continue work indifferent for whom they toiled beneath the masters whip.

<Plunder what else you can, we leave in six hours>

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/hHQT0pg/PRakith.jpg) (https://ibb.co/hHQT0pg)(https://i.ibb.co/M8yRG5F/Prakith2.png) (https://ibb.co/M8yRG5F)

Over-King Gar-Kiou-Zan III, Lord of the Sith, Ruler of Nine Systems, Tyrant of Prakith, True Heir of Darth Ruin sat upon the Dagger Throne, his courtiers, behind a line of heavily armoured Kingsguard, assembled on either side of the Black carpet that lead from the ornate Obsidian doors through the red-orange stone hall to the Eighteen Steps to the Throne – one it was said for each of the Princes Lord-King Gar-Reik had slain to claim Prakith then build the Eternal Fortress.

It was a wearisome display of grandeur Chancellor Teshk sighed.

The Eternal Fortress, built long before even the Sith, was decaying, many wings collapsed, sub levels long buried.

Of the ‘Nine Systems’ only three were occupied, Prakith itself, Hedara a scrappy semi fertile world where some 3 million helots toiled below subsistence for food which was shipped back to Prakith, and Gernon, a tiny trading station the only link to the wider galaxy that paid only lip service to the Over-Kings Authority and went about its business paying its tribute with a grudge.

The Over-King himself…was not a Sith Lord. 

If he had any ability in the Force, as the Chancellor understood it, it was due to his being a long long distance descendant of Gar-Reik, certainly the paunchy sweaty 5 foot 7 man had shown no indication of magical, martial or…frankly in any ability.

The ancient tarnished jewel encrusted gauntlets and neckpieces built when the Sith System Lords ruled over mini-kingdoms in the Deep core, sat heavily on the Overkings pallid flesh.

“Over-King, Dread Kiou-Zan III, Lord of the Sith, Ruler of Nine Systems, Tyrant of Prakith, True Heir of Darth Ruin…” Lord Spymaster Kyssh boomed in the resonant chamber as the nobles whispered and bickered in their throngs.

If Darth Ruin were to appear… the Chancellor thought the nobility would drop dead…the Over King included…

“I bring word from our agents across the stars,”

All twelve of them…

A fleet of barely 60 ships…perhaps 40 serviceable, and 100 merchant ships meant there was little hope of installing a spy anywhere, and the competency of the Lord Spymaster outside of courtly politicking to achieve his station was dubious at best.

“We have word that raiders have destroyed Mamzer Station, the population brutally put to the sword…it is now populated by scavengers and looters…”

How is that different to normal… the Chancellor wondered fidgeting with his Staff of Office.

“…They say it was destroyed by Star Vampires…the dreaded Anzat!”

A gasp spread through the over dressed nobility, a sigh from the Over-King.

The Spymaster spread his arms wide toping theatricality would make up for his paltry third hand news.

“And more, our agents report that the Baronage of Byss is in chaos, a civil war exploding across the system, Lord Over-King surely now is the time to claim your inheritance!”

And give you a Baronage…] The Chancellor had to refrain from weeping at the stupidity, every few years there was a push that they should conquer Byss, ‘reclaim our ancient territories’.  The fact was Byss was just as wretched as Prakith, even if they could take it they could never hold it.

“The Fleet Stands Ready!” Supreme Admiral Foush boomed, his chest covered in more medals and insignia plaques than he had active ships or winning battles combined.

The over kind offered a bored glance to the Chancellor, Teshk gave a single shake of his head.  Appointing Teshk and letting him run the ‘Kingdom’ was the only intelligent thing the Over-King had ever done, so long as Teshk kept him supplied with boys and booze he was satisfied to let Teshk take care of the real business.

“We will consider these events…” The Over-Kings voice weary and weak as he sagged on the throne

“…and return to….””

KOOOOM

The ancient obsidian door burst open, the air in the otherwise stilted chamber gusting as the Kingsguard lethargically armed their Power Halberds, the ancient weapons crackling and sputtering teal energy against their golden armour.

At first it seemed nothing was happening…then finally Teshk saw, three enormous beings, taller than Byss Sentinels in Armour so Black they were almost lost on the wide Black carpet strode forward the tile cracking beneath each step.

The Nobility stood aghast the few Kingguard with any intelligence began to back away as three more entered behind them..

Dhhooom  the Obisidan doors closed of their own accord.

Ninth surveyed the visual scene about her, she had long since etched the Aetheric and thermal information in her mind.

Adapting to the slow speech of Outsiders she spoke.

“Over-King Kiou-Zan…you are a Lord of the Sith,”

The trembling pile of fat flesh didn’t know what to do, menace oozed off these creatures.

From stupidity or pride, most likely the fromer the Over King leaned forward

“I…I am, Dread King of the Nine Systems…who…who am I speaking, err being petitioned by that is?”

Ninth smiled beneath her Aegis helm.

“In the tradition of the Sith….” She drew her sword taller than anyone in the room from her back, the Kingsguard still present trembling.

She tossed it to the floor, it broke the floor beneath with its weight.

“…I come to take your Kingdom by taking your life,”

Wide did not begin to describe the Over-Kings eyes at this point, his bottom lip trembling he looked toward Teshk.

Teshk had two options, stand with the Over-King and be slaughtered by these giants…or….

Summoning up his courage Teshk banged his Staff of Office on the podium.

“A Challenge is made according to the ancient Rite of the Sith, the Over-King must accept or forfeit his crown….”

Never had Kiou-Zan moved so quick or used so much strength as he gripped Teshk’s robes now

“What are you doing, KILL THEM!!”

Teshk struggled against the bloated fool as some of the Kingsguard fired a bolt from his Power Halberd’s clumsily attached gun…the bolt stopped millimeters from the muzzle…then slowly slid back inside….

Finally pushing the fat kind off Teshk yelled

“the King assents!”

Sorry you old twit…” he whispered as the terrified paunchy man was dragged by invisible hands toward the Black creature.

The Nobles either ran about like headless Yorvits or stood in shocked stillness as the ‘duel’ began.

The Over King lifted three feet off the ground his head was grasped by the enormous black hand.

The splattering crunch was masked by the terrified shrieks.

Ninth quickly sloughed off the blood, bone and brain with the aether as she stepped toward the throne, her Squad suppressing the crowds panic with a blanket calming and compliance press upon their weak human minds.

She gazed for a brief moment at the ‘Dagger Throne’ it would be unlikely to hold her fully armoured weight…unfortunate, she would likely be the first being worthy to sit upon it for many years.

She stood in front of it instead the being with the staff of office offering a slight nod as his face became wan the closer she was to him.

The Nobles began to settle under the malign influence, they were backstabbers yes, but unlike Byss they were not economically independent of the Crown, the population here were adapted to taking orders from a single Throne. 

A throne she now occupied.

<Now> she signaled her squad  <We begin>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 27, 2021, 12:41:44 AM
Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/qmqPsh0/Divinity.png) (https://ibb.co/DwcSCmG)
Descent of the Anointed
(https://i.ibb.co/NW3wzs6/Arrkesh.jpg) (https://ibb.co/NW3wzs6)
He sat alone upon the dunes of the Scorching Sea, the stars bright and tinged a rich blue –the colour of the Gods like woad on his skin carefully prepared from the Isatis Tinctoria of the steppes over six nights of Incantations – one for each of the Sacred Hextarion.

Winds off sand hot against his otherwise naked skin Arr-Kesh-Six-Finger meditated upon the Six Gods.  Born with six fingers on his right hand, he was favoured of the Gods and Spirits, the old priests had taken him from his family to be raised among them in their monasteries on the edge of the Scorching Sea – liminal between the life of the lush plains and the death in the desert.

In the vast emptiness the Priests would come to commune with the God of Chaos and Death Whose Name is Concealed and Whose abode is the Scorching Seas.  None of the Gods could be neglected, however fearsome each must have its due. 

Taking up the small pouch of leather beside he dipped is fingers into the Avyasa salts mined along with the rich blue coppers beneath the ground, the bounty of the God of Chaos and Death Whose Name is Concealed.  Spice upon his tongue the journey beyond the body into the Realm of the Lower Spirits began.

Upon his sixtieth name day he would complete the Six Fold Path, the first in 23 generations to do so…

If he survived.

The God of Chaos and Death Whose Name was Concealed was fickle, the Avyasa could grant visions but also kill – even now he felt its power burning in his limbs, the Gods laughter in his ears.

Puppet of the God he thrust up and staggered in sharp movements forward into the desert – deep black gave in to colours, green, yellow, turquoise twisting around and through him as he stepped upon the plane between God and Man.

Cascades of red lashed like waves at his feet – cold as the mountain monasteries, sharp bristles of enormous serpents that bound the world’s circumference passed his skin painfully, the voices of the Old Priests hammered his ears with incantations he had heard decades before.

In the Sky a light bloomed red and orange main the halo of blue stars seem dark.

It blossomed fully and came toward him.  He reached out his arms to embrace the Spirit the God’s sent him.

But it did not reach him.

The Spirit fell like lighting to the ground up ahead, sands a wave that crashed over his naked body, a blanket to shroud him in death.

He did not choke on the sand that filled his nose and mouth but embraced it, if the God of Death desired his ending this day, he welcomed the transition that would take him to the Palace of the God’s.

The scratching of the sand on his face did not end, it was cast further off by hot winds.

Rising up wavering in his steps he saw a blue glow emanate from behind a lip of sand ahead emanating heat, sand compacted and hard as he clambered the embankment that the impact of the Spirit had left.

There in a hollow made by the Spirits landing he saw it. 

Amidst sand turned to glass by the heat was a Spire of metal as large as minaret blue fire licking from its openings.

A Djiin was dancing naked aflame, the creature stirred from its dwelling beneath the desert and was now frantic in exhalations to the Gods.

The flame finally consumed it as Arr-Kesh slid painfully down the side of the crater, glassy sand slicing into his feet and arms.

The Spire began to shake…Sacred blue leaching from within.

A burst of holy wind and the Spire opened, within was a silhouette in Blue flame.

Arr-Kesh fell on his knees, embracing the painful heat and worshipped the Spirit.

<<<<>>>>

Spirit broken as her body, confusion and pain all around.

Her sister, Iralaea, had made her move and struck against the demonic creatures that had taken them from the Village, she’d killed four and set Marlaea loose, quickly they had pried open the hideous box they kept her infant son Maekyn within.

With the aether they had looked for a way out of the Flying Cart, but there was none, just more demons, with lighting staffs and sticks that fired metal. Something had broken and the cart went spiraling.  Marlaea had wrapped herself in the aether about Maekyn a telekinetic shield strengthened by a mothers love…Iralaea tried to help but something struck her head….

Now she was truly alone – the demons had taken everything from her, husband, father now sister – they could not have her son too.

As the Flying cart thrashed and tore apart around her, she burned every last piece of herself to feed the aether shield about her son to keep the sparks and shard of metal from his delicate skin, till finally after an enormous hammering thump the chaos ended.

The peace brought no consolation, her body was flaking apart for using the aether more than a Guardian could dare in the space of minutes, jagged pieces of metal were lodged in her, all her efforts had been on the bubble about her son.

She needed to find help with her last breaths – she hurled the side of the flying cart open to….

A…desert was that was it was called, only Guardians left the valley. All around were flaming chunks of the demons and the flying cart, all was death and madness except.

A man, thin and wiry naked with blue paint rocked and bowed, rocked and bowed to her…

“OH mighty Spirit,” he chanted
“By the Six Release me from the Flesh, By the Six Release me from the Flesh!”

His words made no sense, but she had no choice.

Arr-Kesh looked up as a Divine Mother Skin electric blue swept toward him the image buringing into his eyes as she reached out a bundle to him,

“M…m…Maek…”

Marlaea couldn’t go on, her body wafted back into the aether, the embrace of her Goddesses on partial consolation as her son fell into the worship outstretched arms of Arr-Kesh.

“Maekal!” he screamed knowing he would have to scourge himself for uttering the name of the Child of the Gods that cried in his arms as the Divine Mother vanished into holy Blue Flame.
 
<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 27, 2021, 12:47:08 AM
Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 2

Twenty Five Years Later
(https://i.ibb.co/vjLC7mV/Maek-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/vjLC7mV)
A sea of blood red robes swept behind the palanquin that rested painfully on the backs of 60 slaves, bodies disfigured from hunching under the groaning weight of quartz and lapis throne atop and the equally heavy weight of the Righteous One – the Chosen, the Child of the Gods, Anointed of the Eternal Powers.

For a being of divine luminosity the Anointed was laden with earthly weight Hssan’Kres thought.
For nearly three years Hssan’kres had labored beneath the palanquin, or as servant to the Anointed in the Holy City Xenosh…even were he to escape he would never recover fully in body…and the weight of hatred had long since eaten his soul.

All Hssan’Kres had seen for hours was the back of Jolmnir Jolnirson, once Jarl of the northern mountains, like Hssan’Kres he had been beaten, shamed and forced into servitude. Jolmnirs skin once white as snow now ruddy itching red in the desert sun, Hssan’Kres own darker skin was more resilient…a small mercy…such was all that was left to him.

The whip let off a bellowed order and the slaves gently lowered the palanquin as ‘virgins’ sprinkled lotus petals before it.  His daughter was among them, serving the Monster that posed as a God. She should’ve been Headwoman by now, after Hssan’Kres himself, Headman of the Ingetii Grazeland Tribes passed to the soil.

A bruised eye, bandages on her back and a look of despair were her attire, beautiful cool flowers dropped from her basket to remorseless sand.

Behind legions of red robed warriors in perfect formations.  Hssan’Kres recalled when they had come to the Ingettii…

The apostles had spread the word of the Anointed across the disc of the world, Hssan’Kres as headman welcomed them to preach, observing the sacred laws of hospitality, gently informing them the Ingettii had their own Spirits and the Ancestors, they did not accord with the Six Fold Path of the Hexatrion. The apostles gained no more than polite nods.

Months later the Red Robes arrived in force behind the very palanquin Hssan’Kres now carried, demanding submission to the Anointed or his ‘divine wrath will fall like the blue cursed lighting upon your heads.’

And so it had been.

The throne groaned as the Anointed stepped off body glistening, white skin that never tanned, musculature firm and sleek…yet wrong - joints too flexible, arm muscles unusually shaped to allow inhuman articulation.

A teal loin cloth and heavy head piece all he wore as the tan robed warriors across the no mans land eyed him, behind them hundreds if not thousands of Ch’mel Nomad cavalry, there had to be at least 10,000 – the last opposition to the Anointed tyranny upon the face of the Middle Realm – from the Frozen north, the sweltering east and the swamp ridden west, all had fallen to the Anointed except this, the Endless deserts of Shbiia, of all the places Hssan’Kres had been forced to walk this was the least hospitable by far.

 “Children, I am Come!” the sweet arrogant voice of the Anointed boomed like the thunder across the desert, more fanatical followers collapsing on their faces in worship at every utterance.
“Lift your eyes to the Truth, through me know the Divine!”

Three Nomads men stepped forward, boldest in black with rich gold tassels spoke, voice firm, but a whisper compared to the Anointed.

“I am Juba’Kun’Saba, Son of Juba’Kun’Saha, Grandson of Juba’Uhn’Sura, Chief of the Juba. You who call yourself Anointed are not welcome here, this is the land of the Totem of Shbiia we will not forsake the God of our Fathers.”

…I will not forsake the Spirits of the Ingettii or my Ancestors Hssan’Kres own words three years earlier echoed in his head as he choked back sand from small dust devils.

“Behold!” Juba’Kun’Saba called drawing a strange dark green sharpened shard from deep within his robes
“The Sword of Shbiia, that is in the old tongue Knnarth Kshuuk
Hssan’kres almost smiled, the translation was, very roughly, Slayer of God’s

Jolmnir grunted and rubbed at the red scar in his neck – the Anointed had not merely beaten him in single combat but shamed by slicing across his neck in a round with Jolmnir’s own enchanted weapon Hlfdan’s Axe, said to have been infused with the Soul of the Frost Giant Yggmir…it now sat forgotten among a pile of such weapons in the corner of the Throne Room in the Holy City Xenosh.

Now came the formalities. 

Despicable as the Anointed was he abided by the Old Law of Battle.  As large as the Middle Realm was, it was sparsely populated, should 10,000 men die in a battle an entire region would be depopulated for centuries, so it had been that in ancient times battles were fought with posturing of armies and combat between champions alone or in small groups, the loser acknowledging their Gods or Spirits were the weaker than the victors forced to acknowledge their power…until a another challenge. 

This was the Old Way, this was how Hssan’Kres had fought.

This was how Hssan’Kres had lost.

He tasted the blood in his mouth once more from the Anointed’s back hand, the grip in his chest from the eldritch power of the Godling, his daughter had made ready to attack, but Hssan’Kres had held a hand to stop her - better submission than annihilation. 

After three years he still wondered if was a mistake.

“You will stand as champion with your trinket,” the Anointed called behind his mask as his retainers caught up waving large paddles to provide cool air, others holding parasols, priests reciting battle hymns and incantations.

“We three and our brothers, sons and nephews will,” Juba’Kun’Saba replied. Risky – it meant more men in the fight, but should they lose all those with a claim to be chief would be dead, Hssan’Kres had forbidden his daughter doing the same, whatever happened to him the Ingettii needed leadership…

Her willowy malnourished form among the other enslaved daughters of chiefs, Jarls and Kings showed the error of his decision.
 
The Anointed raised his hands, blue lighting forking between his fingers sending a tang into the air, the suddenness of the sorcery causing all but a handful of the Nomads to waver. 

“I stand alone as Champion,” the Anointed smiled casting off his sapphire inlaid golden bracelets and face mask to the sand covered in quickly withering lotus petals.

“Come,”

Hssan’Kres did not wish to watch another humiliation, but it would dishonor Juba’Kun’Saba to turn away, still he prayed to his Ancestors and Shbiia God of this desert that Juba’Kun’Saba and his folk died well and never knew the indignity of the slavers lash…

…a glint in the Anointed’s eye reminded Hssan’Kres how vain prayers were.

Nearly two dozen Ch’mel cavalry rode forth, truly there must be many brothers, sons and nephews of these three…likely cousins and close friends.

The lean animals charged, swift even the best Ingetti spears would struggle to strike, their riders curved swords like white lighting in the noon sun.

The Anointeds retainers fled to safety behind the Guard of the Burning Seal – the most zealous of the Anointed’s followers who castrated themselves, sliced out their tongues so they could not sin against the ‘Child of the Gods’.

The Godling himself moved faster than the eye could see, air elbows hammering into the raw sides of the Ch’mel sending them sprawling into sand.

Juba’Kun’Saba charged as the sand whipped furiously till only shadows could be seen…bodies flew out broken. 

The Anointed though a dissolute hedonist was no weakling, ‘eating’ the minds of his enemies, taking memories of warfare -  Hssan’Kres had no respite in sleep from his slavery for the nightmares of when his mind was ‘eaten’ for the ancient Ingettii Path of the Spear - a venerable and deeply honored set of tales, techniques and poetry from his ancestors.

In the depth of the dust cloud Maekal, Child of the Divine Mother, the Keeper of the Blue Light of the Divine, the Anointed, wove between the hopeless fools, they thought to confuse him with numbers, but that worked against them, he intensified the winds that kicked up sand, the Nomads were used to sandstorms, but not focused blasts. 

They swept low from their saddles to decapitate, superior dexterity kept him under or caught their arms hurling them off, two with lances sought to impale him, grasping their sharpened stakes under each arm he dropped low, his greater weight causing them to fly from their saddles.

Juba’Kun’Saba saw his chance, the Anointed crouched holding the two lances beneath each arm, raising the Sword of Shbiia he…

Danger flashed in Maekals mind…True Danger…divine reflexes allowed him to skid even on his knees, but not before the blade hit true.

An explosion of red sensation filled his back as the Sword of Shbiia cut into his upper shoulder, rarely was metal enough to cut his skin…the physical damage was insignificant…but there was something more to it…

Hssan’Kres gleefully heard the cry of pain from the dust storm, somehow…somehow…the Anointed had been struck.

The Guard of the Burning Seal rushed in triangular advances, three groups of nine men, the Nomads saw the breach of the Old Law battle, Ch’mel riders behind kicked in spurs and charged.  The Red Robe archers unleashed.

A true battle began.

Hssan’Kres grabbed Jolmnir’s shoulder,
“Brother this is our chance!”

Jolmnir turned, his face obscured swiftly by the dust, a moment of hesitation, lost as somewhere among the other slaves there was a break out, chaos was taking over.

He nodded and clasped Hssan’Kres hand,

“We find your daughter,” he yelled over the din of battle.

Red shields locked against the cavalry, Arrows whistled through the manmade sand storms, scouts buried beneath the sands in no man’s lands swept up from their holes to strike and war-hounds were set loose, the sky filled with flaming canisters of tar from catapults, ancient las carbines fired off in orderly ranks at dual wielding Nomad berserkers high on hashish. 

Maekal dropped as he the very life force flowed from him, never before had he felt such…dozens of so called magical weapons had been wielded against him, most half rusted relics of bygone era’s…this had bite.

Juba’Kun’Saba spun back, the Sword of Shbiia was heavy for its size, he had spent a month in ritual purification before entering the Cave of Metal to retrieve it from the Cradle of the Totems Eye, made offerings of flesh and blood to Shbiia as he explained their need for protection from the Anointed. 

Shbiia heeded his calls.

Maekal trusted greater speed to round on his attacker finding him struggling to lift the blade above his head.  Maekel momentarily considered Aron-Ka’s suggestion he wear armour, Maekal had rejected it as heresy to think his divine body needed any such protection against the trivial weapons of mortals….

Pouncing up something heavy slammed Juba into his side, a rider less Ch’mel knocking into him, denying chance again.
 
Hssan’Kres yelled his daughters name, Jolmnir armed with a discarded shield covered his back through the dust and blood-filled melee.  His bare feet finally met the scrunched lotus leaves, hopefully he was close, but in the confusion she could be anywhere.

Maekal retreated from the collision regaining his feet swiftly, irritation filling him as he felt the deaths around him…large losses meant less slaves to serve his pleasure, less workers to mine jewels, less converts…his fist balled with the divine flame that came so naturally to him, sand in the air turning to glass as it struck the flickering energy.

Juba’Kun’Saba finally saw him, fists a glow with daemonic energy. Like a beacon in the night Hssan’Kres caught sight of the Anointed aflame, it would be over soon…but damned if he would return to slavery. 

Maekel unleashed his fire upon Juba’Kun’Saba - Hssan’Kres rushed him from behind.  He expected Juba’Kun’Saba to simply incinerate as so many others had before.

He did not. 

The flames parted around the Sword of Shbiia, the astounded nomad chief’s despair turned to elation a second wind lifting his arms. 

Maekal stood dumbfounded as Hssan’Kres rammed a broken lance into his back.

The shattered wood scarred and cut the bare flesh, Maekal spun the tormenting divine flame, Jolmnir caught it on his shield which rapidly melted.

Juba’Kun’Saba drew every ounce of strength lifting the sword up above his head, with all the weight gravity slicing down.

Godlike reflexes saved the arm, but the bicep was slashed open, more pain and physical damage than Maekal had experienced coursed through his body, he cried out as he poured more fire ineffectually against the wielder of the Sword of Shbiia, even while Jolmnir and Hssan’Kres did all they could to drag him down.

“DIVINE BRETHREN Help ME!”

A telekinetic wave that was visible as undulations in the ubiquitous storm of sand burst from the Anointed, Juba’Kun’Saba fell to the ground spent, Jolmnir clattered into Hssan’Kres.

Maekal was quickest up despite his wound leaching ruby blood, he danced over the sand and stomped on Juba’Kun’Saba’s chest blood exploding from his mouth caught by the cloth wrapped about his face to keep sand from his mouth.

Jolmnir recovered just in time to ram Hssan’Kres back down as a Ch’mel rider charged past blades in both hands, straight for the Anointed, who took the cuts on his forearms before howling another screech to the Eternal Powers that knocked the rider off.

“We need to run!” Jolmnir grabbed Hssan’Kres, but Hssan’Kres pulled him toward Juba’Kun’Saba’s prone form.

More warriors surrounded Maekal before he could reach them, petty mortals, but with his injuries difficult to defeat.

Hssan’Kres skidded next to the fallen Nomad chief who sputtered as the last strength he had was given to lifting the Sword of Shbbai toward Hssan’Kres

Something passed between the eyes of the Nomad Chieftain and the Headman of the Ingettii Plains, recognition of a fellow leader, fellow resistor

“…take it…” Juba’Kun’Saba rasped

“…wield it…the Caves of Metal…Kill the Beast…” were his dying words. Hssan’Kres took the blade of another Spirit, another clan…yet the only weapon with power to destroy their common enemy.

“Quickly!” Jolmnir grabbed him up, another fallen weapon in his hand as Maekal was surrounded by the Guard of the Burning Seal in a shield wall, each of them covered in scratches and blood from the fight to reach their God.

“That way now!”

By the time Maekal reached Juba’Kun’Saba the battle was petering out, the Nomads fleeing into the labyrinth of canyons to the south.

And the Sword of Shbbiia cradled by a once beaten Headman with naught in his heart but the hope for revenge.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 27, 2021, 12:47:58 AM
Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 3

Milaea

“…I was out of it, completely,”
“I know how that feels” Ari replied with a knowing smile
“…and when I finally opened my eyes…”
Ari leaned closer as the finale of Milaea’s ‘Most Embarrassing Moment Ever’ finally arrived
“I saw Sofa in her bed….”
Ari didn’t flinch at all
“So some time between she’d come in and just gone to bed, she must’ve seen” Milaea explained giggling nervously

Still Ari seemed unphased,

Finally it clicked that like Kiraea, Ari probably retained Aethan sensibilities around privacy, or rather lack thereof.

“oh…of course…that would’ve been embarrassing…I remember it frustrated Saani a lot when I’d walk into her and Kazics room while they had were…well…they kept changing the lock combination on their bedroom door, I thought it was a game to crack it, I didn’t understand Outsiders keep things like that private at the time.”

Now Milaea laughed sparing a glance through the transparisteel to the looming Black Obelisks in the Array Chamber.

Even as they talked they were filtering through signals received by the Array, with three Obelisks now they were getting far more coverage, but in reality it just meant more false signals.

A sudden crackle interrupted the increasingly warm conversation as the Obelisk Array lit with flickers of blue lighting between the five enormous pillars.

They instantly went to work hands and minds activating the consoles they had just been working on tweaking, re connecting the critical transmission lines as they minds grabbed innumerable filtering orbs tweaking and refining the signal in real time.

It was rare to be present when a signal was received, it allowed them to more rapidly refine and cleanse the signal than working off a recording, 

They worked swiftly and efficiently, a positive synchronicity that was only growing stronger with each day they spent together.  Without a word they felt what each needed, checked and adjusted each calculation minds near completely one.

They rose at the same time heading into the Observatory, orbs in each hand adjusting the vectors and back casting the wavelengths as they went, by the time they entered the vast chamber filled with luminous and ever sharper images of the Aetheric map of the galaxy they had narrowed the signal to a single sector and even cleaned it enough to hear exact words

“Divine Brethren Help Me?” Ari, or was it Mili said, their connection so deep as to make the distinction barely meaningful

“Clearly an Aethan signal, but the terminology is odd, perhaps simply adopting an outsider vocabulary…” even as they spoke, they tracked the pulses and echoes of the signal deeper into the Sector, stars zooming away as they cut the options back to a mere hundred or so systems.

“Likely, fear levels in tone indicate more surprise than danger, and undertone of…amazement that he?”
“Yes He…masculine sub waves present in aetheric aura,”

“That he could ever need help…” hands swept through the holograph like image of the stars

Tracking, tracing until finally…

Both voices sweet and in tune.

“There,”

<<<<>>>>

Valens
(https://i.ibb.co/JmyXQk8/Val-investig.jpg) (https://ibb.co/JmyXQk8)
A tunnel of blue energy churned before them into a series of parabolic lines that retched in inverse angles into each other.

“Ease off the deceleration,” Valens guided arms crossed across his chest as he stood behind the pilot’s seat a gentle and constant tug on his memories from the chairs occupant as she learned.

The lines receded back into pinpricks upon a veil of blackest night, mostly white at this distance but a few blue, yellow, or the inky red of ultraviolet light beyond the range of most sentient being’s optical senses to even observe.

”And each one of these Suns has another land beneath it?” Valens asked as they pulled out of hyperspace, between jumps.

“Other planets they have, some many dozen, others none at all, each planet may be home to numerous cities or villages, or none at all,” Yoda replied

“Are there truly so many…” Valens whispered the question edged with fear at the enormity of the galaxy compared to the cloistered valley which until a month ago had been all he had known to exist.

“How many planets occupied there are, how many sentiments and life forms, none can know, vast is the galaxy…” Yoda paused sensing the rising anxiety in the young man

“…vast is the Force that connects all together,” Yoda added hopeful the unity of the force would calm the overwhelming revelation of the vastness before Valens.


“And then transition main power to the sublight engines…” Yorna stepped out the process in exiting hyperspace breaking the brief reminiscence that Valens banished to the under levels of his 6th consciousness.

Teaching Yorna how to pilot and navigate had drawn back out the memories of how Yoda had taught him some 22 years ago.

Losing himself in technical instructions he replied

“The sublights will draw on auxiliary power initially to avoid a situation where you exit hyperspace to a dead stop, but yes once the hyperdrive has completed it stabilization cycle go ahead and transition,”

Yorna nodded and deftly swept her hands across the polished rounded levers and gentle blue lit buttons of the consol.   

She was learning fast under Valens direct tutelage and sharing of his memories, though it was an uncomfortable situation for Valens, he was not a natural teacher, and Yorna had been affirmed a Guardian on the same day as himself and Jarys…

And it was for this very reason he suspected Yorna had asked for him to teach her. Growing up she had always been able to see through him – her gift was always a piercing but empathetic ability to understand others, the softer version of the more penetrating interpersonal skills Karintha possessed.

The Persephaea slowed to 20 per cent sublight in the inter system void - taking the Aertemisaea Class Destroyer meant Yorna would have to learn everything about the ships operation, control and maintenance.

The ship steadied effortlessly, Chiss inertial dampeners far more elegant than the clanking Corellian ones in Yoda’s ship.

The ship shook as it pierced uncomfortably through the atmosphere,

“Travel to other lands seems dangerous…” Valens noted his knuckles white as he gripped through the padding to the durasteel arm rests, superhuman strength denting the metal

“…especially if this metal is all that is between you and this void without air you speak of.”

Yoda could not disagree - to travel across billions of kilometres with only a hands width of metal between yourself and the vacuum did seem insane. Once again Valens bluntness offered the master a moment of mirth.

“True danger there is, risk in travelling even to places familiar, yet also much reward,” Yoda smiled


“Something bothering you Val?” Yorna smiled as she checked coolant levels

It had been decades since anyone called him ‘Val’. Even if her knowledge needed a catch up her emotional senses were sharp as ever.

“Just thinking on my first time piloting…” there was no point trying to hide his thoughts from her.

“Yoda has been on your mind much of late…why is that Val?”

He ignored the question for the moment glancing at the control 

“Everything seems in order next step is…”

A sudden heavy pulse came to both of them through the Link Orbs on their belts, the aetheric connection felt of urgency, hope and focus. Instantly Yorna sent hers to the space between the console and the view screen where an instant later Milaea and Aresaea’s figures appeared.

“Yorna, how are you feeling,” Milaea asked straight away,

“Better,” she smiled in return “Much to learn though,”

“Of course. We just got a signal through the Obelisk array…a single sentence ‘Divine Brethren Help Me’…”

“…analysis indicates Male, first stage adult, 20 to 25 years old, vocabulary indicates strong outsider influence…”
“…the location we’ve narrowed to the Xentolian Cluster, just outside the border to Hutt Space and the Outer Rim,”

Valens frowned his practical mind searching for anything about that cluster – he knew nothing,
Yorna meanwhile held a thin smile as she noted how Milaea and Aresaea spoke like one across two bodies.

“There is only the most basic information about the cluster, seventeen systems containing 6 Class O hypergiants….”

“No known population centers or even mining, Jedi archives only featured a single entry itself copied from a centuries old navigational record…”

“…we’ll leave soon on the Aethenaea but you’re currently only 9 hours away at full speed,”

”To Abregado-rae we are headed,” Yoda smiled “Pilot us there you shall, in my room I will be, wake me when we arrive,”

Valens was about to speak when Yorna got in first 

“We’ll head there at once,” she smiled “Transmit across the recording, I’ll use the Aetheric nexus on the Persephaea to pinpoint the system then transmit the location to you,”

She has this under control, Valens sighed with relief She doesn’t need me to hold her hand thank Goddesses

“We’ll be there in a few days…the Pershepaea Nova is in an active state and might hold us up.” Milaea added

Yorna’s eyes narrowed in focus, determination and confidence firming her aura.

“If a person is asking for help we can’t delay, I’m already inputting the co-ordintates,”

<<<<>>>>

Arr-Kesh

The wound to his shoulder and back was already sealing, a bright pink patch against the alabaster purity of the Anointed’s skin. 

Around Priests and devotees chanted, pledged months of fasting, years of abstinence in gratitude for the Anointed’s victory and survival, others toward the rear of the Hall of the Living God scoured their bodies in emulation of the minor wounds the Blessed Child had received.

Arr-Kesh looked upon the frustrated countenance of the Anointed and clapped his hands.

“Begone!” his voice resonant with the Authority of the Eternal Powers as he held the Six sided staff of the Supreme Prelate of the Middle Realm, Chosen Guardian of the Anointed the Six Fingered, the Blessed.

Without hesitation the throngs left, the Guard of the Burning Seal with them.  Vast white curtains gently swayed in the wind between the columns of the airy courtyard, rich lapis lines in hexagonal patterns carved in each column, palms and ferns absorbed heat from the nearby desert sun.

The whole palace had been built on the Edge of the Sands of Shbiia by slaves after the battle, some thousand or so had died to have it ready in time.  The set back in the battle meant they would require a few days at least to rebuild supplies and rescout the terrain for a further push, in the interim nothing less than a palace would do for the Anointed – and of course his Supreme Prelate.

Maekal’s face remained scrunched in irritation.

“That yoog!” the God Child spat
“What in Pathalam was that sword the Ch’mel mounter used against me?”

“The Sword of Shbiia Blessed,” Arr-kesh said coolly not wishing to provoke the Divine being into a tantrum.

“Cursed thing….weapon of daemons…” Maekal swept back his long hair, ringlets of golden brown fluttering the evening breezes as he poked at his wound,

“yoog…and worse…two of my slaves turned on me…”

Good… Arr-Kesh thought, An object to place his rage upon rather than indiscriminately

For nearly twenty four years, four by six, had Arr-Kesh guided and raised the Child of the Gods the Divine Mother had placed in his arms.  The child was a prodigy growing strong and intelligent under the guidance of the Priests and greatest scholars of the Middle Realms, but was frustrated by the limitations of mortals and quick to anger and violent rages.

Upon his second Sixth year, the age of twelve as they called it the Great Unification had begun, Arr-Kesh had taken the Child to claim his rightful rule over the Holy City of Xenosh.  The credulous and poor believed due to the display of the trivial abilities the Godling possessed – conjuring fire from his hands, lighting from his eyes, raising rocks and men off their feet with a nod.

It was up to Arr-Kesh to discern he True meaning of the Child Gods coming, to understand the signs in the Stars, to prove to the Priest, the Monks, the Ascetics and Theologians that in Maekal was made flesh the Saviour, the Promised One, the Pure Child promised in so many sacred texts.

“It was Hssan’Kres…” Maekal brooded lips twisted in scorn
“An Ingettii I beat 1,451 days ago…he served on my Palaquin for his blasphemy…”

Arr-Kesh could never fault Maekal’s memory, as was fitting a god he recalled every detail of his life in the Middle Realm, yet could not recall his Divine existence prior to that.  Over the years Maekal himself was able to debate holy men and preachers, using their own sacred texts he could memorize in a day to prove his Divine mission as the Holy Unification continued…of course for those cities, tribes and kingdoms that did not accept the Sacred Truth…

“…he has a Daughter among my Virgins….” Maekal hissed

“Throw her to the Dreng!” Makeal stood, his body rippling with divine rage “And find that Ingetti yoog…”

The Anointed stalked to his private chambers

“So It is Spoken, So shall it be Done Holy One,” Arr-Kesh bowed neither pleased nor displeased with the reaction.

Maekal paused only long enough to sneer.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 27, 2021, 12:48:43 AM
Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 4
Hssan’Kres

Wailing women and walking wounded were his greeting in the narrow Wadi, its dried river bed covered in thick canvas tents.

He had managed to latch onto the fleeing warriors of the Totem of Shbiia after the battle, straggling back across the deserts with them, the Anointed’s army pursued for many miles, but was wise enough to turn back from getting too deep into the desserts, whose in hospitability had been the main reason the Anointed had left this to be the very last of his conquests.

Fortunately the warriors of Shbiia knew the ways well, all the water holes and firm sands.

As he joined the main group they had stared, not at his deep black skin, nor Jolmnir’s pallid white skin and red hair, rather the fact he carried the Sword of Shbiia that Juba’Kun’Saba had thrust into his hand before dying.

He tried to offer it to the leaders of the Tribes, they all made strange signs of warding and refused.

“The Sword of Shbiia had Chosen you…” Kana’Lop’Seha the leader now Juba’Kun’Saba was dead had explained one night.

“It is gifted by Shbiia only to those who Need to wield it,”

“Your Chief, Shbiia rest his eyes,” Hssan replied adding the commemorative he had heard from the others discussing their losses,
“Gave it to me as he was dying as I was the only one there, it was not a chosen gifting,”

“You were there because Shbiia willed it, so you must wield it…” Hssan could see how he leaned away from the weapon.

“This weapon, it harmed the Anointed…in all my years carrying the Palaquin I have never seen any weapon harm him so…surely it is better to be wielded by one skilled in the sword when next we meet the False God in battle,”

“Shbiia gifted it to you,” Kana repeated solemnly in the ruddy orange glow of the fire upon a desert plain, the blue of the stars above blotted black by the casting glow of the nearer light.

“The Knnarth Kshuuk is an ancient and deadly thing that sword, even the oldest Magi know not its full tale, only that in times of great need a warrior who enters the Cave of Metal may claim it, when the danger is passed they return it to the cavern…but they never leave…that is the price Juba was willing to pay, now it falls to you…”

Hssan nodded, everything had a price, how much more to wield the ‘Slayer of Gods’. 

“I often wondered why I kept going, why I was didn’t…perhaps this is why…” he whispered mostly to Jolmnir.

“We’ve seen no other weapon that can harm the Anointed for more than a few more moments…” the hoary larger man replied, his skin red as ever from the sun despite the rags he used to cover it in the day.

The thought had turned again and again in Hssan’s mind till they reached the Wadi, helped as best they could with the wounded, and burying the dead that had been retrieved.

There were other outcasts here not of the Totem of Shbiia, men from the jungles in the South East with flat eyes and coned heads, riders of the rocky steppe,  even a Samu’rai warrior o the far west, truly this was the last of the great circle of the world not conquered by the Anointed.

As he found a place among the warriors a small group came before him – women in rich blue robes.

“You wield the sword?” an aged Bibi – grandmother – asked, face the only visible skin coarse as leather with age.
Hssan stood.

“I carry it,”
“I a Juba’Dhuja’Sabi, widow of Juba’Uhn’Sura, grandmother of Juba’Kun’Saba,”

Hssan bowed in reverence of the aged and wise woman.

“It is true then the sword has been gifted by Shbiia to you…” her voice was a crackled whisper like the snap of the whip on a Ch’mels hind quarters.

“…though Juba wounded the False-God-Child it will not be long before he marches forth again,” she placed her hands on his cheeks in blessing.

“What Juba could not complete you must, purify yourself then go to the Cave of Metal to receive Shbiia’s blessing so that when the False God returns, you may finish what Juba began and slay the demon for the salvation of all the Middle Realm.”

<<<<>>>>
Yorna

(https://i.ibb.co/tKxqNpc/destroyerorbit-7a-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/7CRnTtV)
“What is your assessment,” Valens stood as always arms crossed behind her as he controlled the Persephaea’s sensors fixed on the planet below.

After arriving at the edge of the Xentolian Cluster Yorna had taken to one of the three Aetheric Nexus aboard the ship, using the recording Milaea had transmitted to a Link Orb to seek out the exact system the signal had come from.

The Nexus was a large Chamber of Bloodstone that drastically increase the range of her senses in the aether, and tracing the signal was in essence no different to tracking a Vorynx or Gobril as she had just…

No it wasn’t months ago…it was twenty years ago I tracked a Vorynx, or played with Gobrils or Gormin…wandered the fields with Kiraea, or listened to Karintha’s stories…

She refocused, the World – no galaxy – was much bigger now and she had to adapt quickly.

“No signs of significant artificial power readings or radiation wakes from hyperspace travel…either they don’t have space faring technology or use a completely different kind of technology to what we do…”

She looked through the sensor readings further, in essence it was not so different from reading tracks in the forest, or tasting the pollens and blood in the air on a windy day, it was all about observation and deduction.

“Atmosphere and overall global temperatures within standard habitable parameters…a Person could live here, humans as well…”

She used the View screen to zoom in on the largest land based clusters of life forms she could sense in the aether.

One in particular appeared as strange - a cluster of square and domed shapes, large triangular cloths in brown and tan on the edge of a desert holding at least a fifth of the planet population in temporary accomodations.

“A camp but enormous…” she reached deeper trying to feel out the nature of the people there,
“Fear…adulation…despair…triumph…so many conflicting emotions…”

“As are all such places,” Valens noted, the confusion natural, Yorna had never seen a city before, that concept foreign enough, the idea that there could be a division in the emotional state of the People even more alien.

“Why do their Guardians not allay the fears and imbalances I feel,”

“Not all societies have Guardians as we do, not all Outsiders are untied even when the same race, they permit inequalities and dissonance to persist,”

“Why is that?”

”Why is That?” he asked as he looked upon the huddled masses of starving thin reptilian Moochers in the streets of Abregado-Rae, so close to the clean luxurious towers built on the profits of the manufacturing and smuggling trade nearby.

Yoda once again found himself struggling to articulate a complex social problem to Valens…things Yoda took for granted – economic inequality, intergenerational poverty, market failures and power imbalances - were utterly foreign to Valens collectivist tribal society, he could not comprehend that members of the same race could not be in constant agreement or peaceful equitable commerce.

It made Yoda reflect why he as a Jedi took such things for granted….there was no logical need for such poverty, yet still he had to explain its persistence to a literal mind.

“Poverty…a wicked problem it is…feeds upon itself, the greed of some leads to the suffering of the many,”

“Do these ‘few’ experience no surge of…hormones related to empathy to elicit such behaviors?” 

It intrigued Yoda how often Valens assumed a biochemical or neurological solution to every problem….as if every problem was best solved by editing genetics.

“Perhaps, however shame and guilt negative emotions are, inspire action and change they do not, resistance and defensiveness they promote…”

Valens face remained perplexed as he glanced around the impoverished streets thick with grime and neglect.

“A Jedi’s role,” Yoda refocused “To combat these things it is, by inspiring empathy, sympathy, generosity it is, an example we are through selflessness,”

Valens made no reply, they simply walked on,


“Val?” Yorna asked

“It is simply the way all Outsiders are Yorna,” he half lied.
“What else do you see?”

She looked more closely at the ‘holograph’ of the site.

“A hexagonal pattern in the centre, controlled, well laid out with large avenues and ordered tents…a military encampment…but around that chaos, followers, hangers on of some kind, so many…but why?”

“To learn that,” Val said solemnly gazing into the picture
“We need to get groundside”

<<<<>>>>

The vastness of variety of the galaxy hit every one of her senses at once.

This was the first planet outside of Aethas she had been on.

Smells, sounds, sights… the crowd…Goddesses the crowd! She had never seen so many beings in one place before.

They had landed in a Karintha Class Assault Transport – the naming after her now revived Aunt making her smile still - atop an inaccessible mesa far outside the city-camp located at an oasis on the edge of a desert and savannah region.

Their armour hidden beneath thick brown flaxen robes stitched by Kassyndra they had found a rough road in the desert and went unnoticed among the throngs heading to and from the enormous accumulation of temporary tents and pavilions of all sizes and colours, canvas animal hide, flax - along with vast metallic ‘Coal churners’ as Valens called them, archaic motorized vehicles out of use in the Republic for millennia.

It was the people she noticed most - the variety of different facial profiles and skin tones she realized compared to the majority she was quite light.

“An adaptation to the sunlight in their native land,” Valens explained quietly “In some places it carries additional social meaning as ‘race’, this is distinct from species…see there”

He gestured swiftly to three men standing debating the value of a necklace of ruddy gold inlaid blue

“The two near are human with dark skin, the one behind a hybrid-Zabrack, his skin also darkened but the horns and facial scarring distinguish his race…”

“Human….they look almost like us…but…” she couldn’t articulate the feeling

“They seem wrong, malformed to our eyes…our brains are designed to recognize the faces of People…variations in colour and profile will always appear…disgusting to us…but over time the disgust response will temper…”

”Your assistance is appreciated Master Jedi,” the Gado bowed, his lanky organ filled limbs covered in fur rustling up a disgust response in Valens beside him.

Yoda nodded as they headed back out of the Municipal Centre.

“This troubles you apprentice?”

“It does, he is lying to us,”

“Not the mission, the Gado themselves,”

“They are…unappealing to my senses,”

“As I am Valens?”

The young man paused, unusual at the best of times, but seemed to decide it better not to lie

“Yes,”

“Racism an insidious evil it is…” Yoda warned “Understand I do, in your case the suddenness of diversity a shock is…be cautious disgust does not turn to disdain…consider this, a book by its cover one does not judge,” Yoda smiled to cushion the lessen

Valens looked puzzled

“All books have a leather cover, they differ only in size…and many books in the Temple have no cover they are electronic…”

Yoda sighed as another colloquialism went over the poor boys head.

“Rather…judge not a being by their appearance, but the content of their character”

Valens remained silent for a time as they headed into the twisting streets. What Yoda could never comprehend fully was Valens sight was not just across regular spectrums of visible light, but in the Force as well, an inheritance from Miraluka progenitors to see a beings Force aura clear as their face – it was this that disgusted him most.

“I will meditate on this lesson at the next opportunity master,”


<<<<>>>>>

The bustle was constant, the sound of talking unending, Yorna had to block out some of her hearing to avoid overstimulation as they wandered through the ramshackle lane ways over headed by wires and line from which hung banners in various states of disrepair of a thousand designs.

The settlement of canvas was clearly not permanent, but why such a vast number of beings, many unsuited based on their skin colour to this climate, had come to this place remained a mystery. This was not an auspicious place for trade.

The streets were full of beggars Valens had warned of, even more noticeable were the various ‘Priests and zealots’, men – and only men it seemed -  in voluminous robes of intricate silks, or ragged and starved in intentional penance, other with mere loin cloths holding an arm or foot in the air black from rot, some banging their heads on the ground or chanting to beaded strings.

“Thoughts?” Val asked

“A highly religious society…but…not a single orthodoxy, the difference in practice and words of their chants…but there is still a single focus, something has drawn them all here, focused their beliefs,”

“Indeed…that is what troubles me,” Val said but revealing no more of what he meant, Yorna understanding he wanted her to figure out the situation for herself as part of her training.

Many of the streets were overhung with clothes lines and shade clothes, tattered and worn by the searing sun, the heat compared to the cold of the Persephaea was uncomfortable to her still as she adapted.

“We need to learn who is in charge, what the political situation is,” Val went on as they strode through out of the crowded shanty town areas they finding the wide streets separating portable wooden barricades and barely clothed sweating men with metal around their necks hauling stone and sand to erect a more permanent wall.

They were overseen by Red Robed men with strange sticks of metal that patrolled the area

<Plasma Arquebus, antiquated weapons…> Valens explained, a brief mind trick to divert attention from themselves. Combined with the coal powered transports the technological level of this world was clearly low and the denizens largely living hand to mouth.

A sense of expectation prompted Yorna to deduce further.
<These men are in a position of power over the others…building defenses…a gap from the main populace…a sacred place or military installation>
<possibly both> Val noted
<Are these with the metal around their neck slaves?> she asked
<Yes…see the marks of old wounds, their thin bodies, old war captives…but the true clue to it is in the aether…>
<Yes…> She felt them out <beaten, broken…they are…alive but not living>

<Such is how outsiders treat any whom they have power over> he added as they slid around the edge of the growing fortifications, behind which were far more opulent tents and larger Coal Crawlers.

Where are the women…. Yorna wondered noting the foot traffic so far was all male.

“That we must determine too…” Val added

“We could simply tug the memories of a guard or citizen…” Yorna began

“But for now…”


”Feel out the situation…the traffic, the motion…all through this the force….”

They sat atop a chunky and less than well maintained traffic control tower just outside the Abregado-rae space port.  Valens had a fine tuned…indeed somewhat disturbing…ability to read the intentions, thoughts and feelings of individuals, but had no experience whatsoever in analyzing a group situation, it affirmed Yoda’s view that Valens training was focused on some kind of policing in a village setting where everyone was known to each other.

“There are many thousands master…integrating it all is impossible….”

“A city a planet a soul it has beyond the sum of individuals, this you must see above each mind…connected together, commonalities, fears yes, hopes also,”           

He felt the tentative reach of Valens mind, it was expansive and strong but still seeking fixed points of strong minds.

Yoda relaxed himself as best he could - This would take some time….


“…but passively,” Yorna explained “we can find what we need,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 27, 2021, 12:50:23 AM
Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 5

Yorna
(https://i.ibb.co/NjvzrSj/Yor-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/NjvzrSj)
She followed the threats of intent, motivation and obedience to a vast amalgam of wood and canvas surrounding a natural depression in the oasis sands.  Outside throngs of market stalls sold shady wears and aromatically spiced meats on open fires as crowds bustled in and out to the steady crescendo’s of raucous applause and moaning boos.

Jostling between the flood of people, an aetheric ‘slip’ about them to deter people noticing their wide figures under the cloaks, they soon found themselves in what was some kind of pit for gladiatorial games.

Valens was quick to mark out the guards dotted about, long halberds with deep red cloth, a contrast symbol of fire blue on their polished but worn helms.

Yorna focused more on the beings, finally sensing a few women among the crowd – not from sight but scent of what she had learned were typical human female hormones.  All were fully covered in black robes, even their faces obscured apart from eye slits.  It was a stark contrast to the men many of whom were shirtless in the heat.

None were without a thin leather or even metal cord attached to belts about their waists held by a male nearby.

<Why are the women covered?> She asked <And so…controlled>

<It’s not uncommon to see such gendered power imbalances> Valens telepathically replied with a ‘sigh’ even as his gaze fixed on a wide focal point amidst the stands, opulently draped seats surrounded by fan bearers waiting for some beings of import to arrive.

<While there are some matriarchal cultures, perhaps Eighty percent of humanoid dual gender species are effectively Patriarchal…that is the non-child bearing gender holds greater social and economic power.>

His ‘tone’ turned bitter
<They use their greater physical strength to dominate rather than protect and devalue the females role…>

Yorna could scarcely comprehend such a thing, it was an utter inversion of her own culture, combined with the sheer novelty of everything that pushed onto her senses it was beginning to take a toll.  One she knew Valens could sense.

<I’ll be fine> She pre-empted
<Just so much to take in…>

Her overstimulation was only enhanced by the events in the arena pit itself.  The Crowd jeered and clapped as a bizarre creature with four large insect like legs but a snapping crocodilian like maw slowly ground its prey – four naked men covered in cuts and bruises whose starving ribs showed through dried skin.

<What are they doing!>

<Some kind of public punishment…> Valens explained

<Yes…they aren’t clapping when they hit the beast, only when it strikes them…>  The depravity of outsider cultures was becoming ever more apparent to her…but she had to remember this was one of billions of cultures in the galaxy.

Another of the naked men was rent to chunks of meat by the beast, which itself bore the wounds of lashes and whips, forced to fight far from its habitat.  Yorna felt empathy for the animal and the men.

A Guardian should stop such an abuse, there was no need for such outside of open war, yet as Valens had re-iterated it was not their place to intervene in others disputes, to do so was dangerous.

The last of the naked men died with screams drowned by cheers of thousands as heavily armored warriors paraded around the edge of the ring, tamers dragged the crocodilian creature back inside the depth below the arena and on the main viewing box near naked women appeared dispersing petals and ointments upon the floor.

A sickening feeling overwhelmed Yorna as the men who held their own women in shackles beneath stifling black robes ogled these women, and worse, in public, they were followed by men in priestly robes, incense burners and banners in curved scripts, chanting and proclaiming the coming of the God as the naked women upon whom Yorna’s attention was fixed knelt submissively before the throne.

Through a mist of incense, clothes in a rich blue loin cloth and full facial mask with a curved halo around the golden face, inlaid with lapis and sapphire the God approached followed by his attendants.

His muscled body was shown off to the crowd, oiled and glistening, the scent of perfume reached Yorna across the vast colosseum, no doubt filling the eight or so thousand other spectators senses as they fell silent and bowed in reverence.

A nudge from Valens and she also knelt so as not to stand out to the heavily armored Red warriors who scanned the crowd for any not showing due submission to their ‘God’

“He cometh, the Mighty, the Invincible, Son of the Gods, Blessed by the Hextarion, Promised of the Esshene, Conqueror of the Middle Realm, the Anointed!” Bellowed a man so fat he must weigh six times the average she had seen of the other humans.

The crowd remained bowed until the God took his throne.

Behind the golden face mask the voice was amplified by the aether across the arena and tiered seats.

“Blessed are You that witness Us in Flesh!”

Yorna already disliked this ‘God’ for not protecting its People, for allowing such hideous treatment of females, the arrogance sharpened her annoyance.

“Our Enemies are damned in this life and the Next Five, These you see are children of Sin, Unclean in their Courses, Daughters of those that would defy Us!”

A gate clanked up at the edge of the arena, more women, naked, bruised and bloody were pushed out.

“See the Daughter of Hssan’Kres, Ingettii Chief who defied Us Twice, In Our Mercy We spared him the First Transgression, there can be no second reprieve!”

He pointed an accusing finger at the women.

“And see those that are of her kin, and clan, to the Sixth degree shall the Wicked be Punished as it is written!”

He raised his arms in time with the iron gate opposite the one the women had been forced out, another creature hulking and predatory with a large orange brown main and dripping teeth stalked out with hungry remorseless eyes of black over a tongue flickering to pick up scents.

<No…they wouldn’t…>

<There is no end to the depravity of outsiders against their own> Valens replied to her shock.

The beast soon began working toward the six huddled women, confident of its meal – it had done this before.

<I can’t permit this> Yorna’s telepathic words cut off any argument Valens might’ve made about the need to be discreet, to avoid becoming entangled.

Much like Milaea and Aresaea, Yorna had a strong sense of right and wrong, but more than those two and much like her sister Kiraea, Yorna would act upon her inclinations with little fear for repercussions, like Karintha she was assured that she acted with the guidance and blessing of the Goddesses at all times.

She scanned the environment even as she leapt into the sandy pit – 150 regular guards in light armor,200 heavies had arrived with the ‘Anointed’  Only a few dozen were armed with antiquated las and black powder weapons, most bore crossbows and steel bladed weaponry.

Her Mark 1 Guardian armour, comprised of ultradense blackstone, featuring Chiss sensory and shielding technology, Macro MASER rifle, pistol and implosion grenades were insurmountable Technological advantages – Aethan biological and aetheric abilities combined with her Guardian training made her worth a thousand or more such warriors.

With only the subtlest instruction Valens moved in the opposite direction toward the higher seats where he could cover her from above and rain teleporting arrows on any who challenged her.

The beast snarled and pounced at the cowering unclothed figures.

It flew back even before Yorna hit the centre of the Arena, her high flip landing without a grain of sand disturbed.

<<<<>>>>

 
Maekal

His eyes widened as from nowhere a figure appeared in the arena, the Dreng flying backward on a gentle current.

A deep brown cloak unclasped and light eating black helmet removed a vision of Divine Beauty gazed toward him.

“I am Yorna Daughter of the Three Goddesses of Aethas, Visitor here, I take these women under my protection by their authority,”

“What is this insolence!” frothed the rotund Nenk-Kssar, his announcer whose depth of voice was only exceeded by the abyss of his appetite and fattened stomach.

“Kill this uncouth bitch!”

The Guard of the Burning Seal rapidly leapt over the edge of the stands into the ring, the Dreng seemingly insensate lying docile before the woman whose red hair and marble face seemed all too familiar to Maekal.

No sooner had they drawn their swords than the Guard fell to their knees, a power Maekal had only sensed in himself being twisted in the currents of the Spirit realm about her.

“If you are the God of this world do not hide behind your followers, nor punish your own people so cruelly!” her voice firm enhanced by magick as his own often was.

“Rabid!” Nenk huffed his face red as the crowds stood aghast at a woman defying the Anointed.

“A Woman made rabid by the blood of her cycle no doubt! Get up and slay the Blasphem….”

Maekal and Arr-Kesh, who had been unusually silent, turned to see the fat herald lift off the ground cackling and grasping at his throat.

Yorna was not of a mind to take such an action herself, but Valens could not allow such an insult to a female of the People to go unpunished.

Tracing back the source of the magick Maekal stood and stared at the second warrior in black, standing atop one of the recently erected sandstone columns, arrow drawn looking straight at him.

There was something so familiar about the Magicks they used…so like his own Divine powers…

More Guard leapt behind the woman, aiming for the girls.  Deciding she needed to make a more impactful display Yorna theatrically flicked her wrist and sent blue bolts slamming into their chests, half melting the steel.

The Guard all drew their weapons as panic exploded in the crowd.
 
Arr-Kesh face dropped with terror as an Azure Divine power not related to fertility, but war, was shown by a Female,

Maekal beneath the mask grinned to the point it pained his jaw.

“Lay down your Weapons, my Divine Brethren have Arrived!” 

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 15, 2021, 12:23:01 AM
Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 1

Maekal
The standoff was quickly subdued, the girls to be executed escorted by the Guard of the Burning Seal out of the arena given clothes, water and even a Palanquin to ride.

As they marched under guard through the streets of the encampment toward his temporary palace Maekal saw the other man remain at a distance, drawn whenever Maekal looked, always positioned perfectly among the tents and growing walls, unnoticed by the slaves and guards nearby. 

The procession was lined with the rabid populace, word of events at the arena spread like fire, Apostolic Riflemen kept the curious throngs at bay.

It was immediately apparent to Yorna this Aethan boy – for boy was all he was from what she could smell beneath exotic perfumes – was of supreme prominence of this world.  It was a jarring inversion of the tales Jenaea, Maeson, Kassyndra, even Jarys had to tell - enslaved, cast into the lowest rungs of planets they were hurled upon.

She stayed close to the newly freed women, there was no disguising the desire of the priests and prelates to continue with the execution of girls whose downcast looks and submissive posture spoke of years of crushing abuse.

A marble staircase to the vast complex of tents of gold and purple at the center of the six rings at the core of the enormous camp, gleamed in the sun, freshly carved runes on the face of each step kicked up as the guards ascended before a throng of women in white showering petals for the Priests and the ‘god’ to walk upon.

As they began the ascent they passed statues and monoliths still under construction, workmen covered in white marble dust pushed aside for the caravan.

The Guards snapped and demanded the nearer throng’s kowtow – amidst the crowd far larger and more varied than within the arena she noted some scuffles brutally suppressed.

The Temporary palace was upon a hill made by the toil of hundreds of slaves, indeed the arena pit was the result of their creation of the hill upon which Maekals palatial tent stood rather than an intentional effort.

From here Yorna could see the shimmering desert horizons and how tentative and impermanent everything of man seemed against the endless sands.  There were more priests, bald in simple loin cloths to greet them.

With fluttering fans and horns the God’s arrival was announced, Palace Priests pulling open heavy onyx doors to a more solid structure within the Anointeds/

Maekal proceeded forth indifferent to their adulation, crossing the Great Seal for which his personal Guard was named, a vast ancient circle of arcane metal replete with symbols and images none had yet been able to translate – the direct language of the Gods that had frustrated his occasional attempt to crack it.

He sneered at the Seal, its intransigence offended him, if he had more examples of the writing he could begin the process of finding patterns in the lexicon.

Valens watched from just outside the palace perched carefully on a recently raised pillar proclaiming this as the ‘Temporary Seat if the Holy Anointed’, well aware this Boy could see him, and now curious about the Seal he crossed. 

”What language is it?” his apprentice asked as he shone a light on the contents of the wooden crate they had opened in the depths of the warehouse, an ancient datadrive, the software damaged unfortunately but still so finely etched with insignia of Predor to whom it belonged.

“Rakattan…an ancient species, once rulers of a cruel empire, such relics a great value hold to some,”

The smuggling of such artefacts explained much, but still Yoda felt there was more to this mission to Abregado-Rae than mere black market trading. Yet he had a more immediate issue.

“A problem apprentice,”

”It seems…inefficient for so many different languages to be used…why does not everyone simply use Basic?” Valens asked as Yoda sighed inwardly again.

Cultural diversity seemed almost…anathema…to Valens, at first Yoda thought it a result of his apprentices monocultural tribal society…a few years, it seemed more ingrained - an unconscious unwillingness to accept that any other society but his own was…Necessary

“Value in retaining a native tongue there is, some species unable to communicate with sound waves as we do yes, but also identity, thought, experience tied into the language it is.  The limits of the language the limits of your imagination…”

“Consider the word ‘datadrive’, this word, this noun, unknown to you it was on your homeworld, a new word you’ve learned, a new object, and new possibilities for storage of data…”

Valens mouth moved to counter, Yoda knew exactly what he would say, Valens pragmatic mind would reflect that the name for an ‘object’ didn’t matter, the object was real and tangible, Yoda needed a more…conceptual example.

“Consider also, the Force, a word not know to you, yet another way of understanding that which you did already use, the implications of this word, consider again Democracy, Ecumenopolis, philosophy, metaphysics, multiculturalism, all words derived from other languages into basic at some point, for concepts unknown to you, explainable only by complex sentences previously, if understood at all…open new vista’s other languages do…my own verbage unusual some see, but another way to consider the galaxy with a different order of words yes?”

His apprentice slowly parsed the information

“It’s value lies in innovative potential…a being who speaks a language…like the Gaevin,”

By this Valens meant Givin, Yoda smiling at the ironic humour that Valens own native tongue was a heavily accented Archaic form of basic.

“They think in mathematical models, they could…be inventive in ways another species cannot…by permitting many species to interact one can harness creativity one’s own could not attain in isolation…”

There was an edge of…ambition? excitement…in Valens voice as if he had struck pure latinum – and intended to exploit it.


His reminisces distracting, Valens almost missed the quarrel below.

“No woman may sully the Seal, go through the servants entrances,” a thin sycophantic priest, bald with tattoos of runic script etched where hair once had been screeched holding hand before Yorna as Maekal crossed over it with a sigh, he was impatient to speak to this Spirit alone.

Yorna eyed the man and In turn felt the eyes of the vast throng the Anointed was surrounded with upon her.

“Very well…” she agreed to respect this custom

“Take the Blasphemers around,” Arr-Kesh ordered his raspy aged voice resonant with authority as the Guard of the Burning Seal moved to take the women who should’ve been sacrificed in the arena but for this…dameonette Arr-Kesh thought…interference.

“As you have spoken so shall it be done…” the Guard captain replied guiding the women away as the Onyx doors hauled from sacred Xenosh parted and the Anointed strode in.

As soon as the vast doors closed the world behind him he tossed off the annoying head piece, it clattered and bounced before the attendants picked it up, by which time he was already deep in the vast columned palace no longer having to slow his pace for the mortals tedious procession.

Vast gossamer white sails, fountain courtyards and petal covered pools he indifferently strode past – then statues that acolytes ‘woke’ and ‘fed’ each morning to the very center of the complex where a garden of marble and lapis bedecked with zephyr silk cushions from the Tien Rivers stuffed with down from Mallards of the far north were primed and plumped for him to recline into, wines chilled against the summer heat in pitchers waiting for him.

He guzzled down a whole pitcher…then another before ringing one of half a dozen small bells each with a pitch ordering his servants to attend to different needs. 

The carved dividers opened and a bevy of his vir…well…once virgins were brought in for his entertainment as Arr-Kesh finally catching up with a puff strode in.

“Anointed, we must consult the texts, the coming of this Spirit…or Daemon woman was not foretold, we must be on our guard for,”

“By the Six….” Maekal sneered “Isn’t it obvious, from the Revelations of Tiamat, And then came before me the Virgin, who said ‘Behold Faithful Servant Your Works are nearly done, and I will witness you ascend to the Glory of the Six,’…”

He leaned forward even as the virgins prostrated before him, the celibate old man never could disguise his distaste for Maekals…indulgence of earthly things, indeed had tried so often to dissuade him and keep him from it, but as Maekal grew in strength and will he had to concede.

Even so again the young Gods impeccable memory of the texts served him well…though it seemed he had taken some liberties with the translation of certain verbs.

“The damn Ch’mel lickers are the only ones who defy me,” Maekal strode to the virgins sniffing the air about them for one that pleased him to ‘enjoy’

“And we march upon them in three days time, she has come in accordance with the scriptures -  Once they are defeated the whole world will acknowledge my Divinity, this woman from the arena is the Virgin spoken of to witness my triumph and then I will ascend back to the Six fold Heavens…”

He cupped the chin of one of the girls

“And then I will reward all my servants in the Middle Realm,”

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 15, 2021, 12:26:42 AM
Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 2

Yorna

They were guided on a long path around the hastily built palace, slaves still toiling to shore up the foundations upon shifting sands – an apt metaphor Yorna thought for this society.

They had mistakenly deified a child of the People.

“no…no…” one of the women Yorna had saved suddenly backed away from the entrance carved with what seemed strange Panthera genus creatures

“I won’t go back there!”

There was a crack. 
But it was not the Guard slapping the insolent female as he intended.

It was his forearms snapping as Yorna caught his blow before it struck, she overestimated the strength of the human bone and crushed it by using enough force to stop an normal Aethans arm instead of ‘limiting’ her strength as Valens advised was often necessary when dealing with other species.

The creature barely grunted as another of the interminable array of Priests interjected.

“What is this disobedience! Be silent and…”

Yorna gripped his throat with her mind to silence him.

“What is the matter, what happens here?” she asked the woman, there were six all told, most seemed sheepish but a darker skinned one eyed her conversation.

The Priest gagged on the lack of air as Yorna kept him silent, the other Guards wary of intervening against their Anointed’s ‘guest’

“Speak…it’s alright, they won’t hurt you while I’m here,” Yorna soothed earnestly

“It’s…where they take us to serve the Anointed, Six Bless him…he uses us and…I don’t want to go back there…I’d rather have died in the arena!”

Yorna straightened

“No one will use you...” she said firmly enough that Yssa’Kres, daughter of Hssan’Kres whose escape during the battle had led to her being condemned by association, believed in this strange powerful woman with all her heart.

“Lead on priest,” she released him
“I must speak to the Anointed as soon as possible,”

Sufficiently cowed the priest lead then through the bowels of the make-shift Palace where stoves and store rooms were innumerable to feed the army of priests and holy men above, old women toiling over boiling vats of laundry to ensure all was pristine for those blessed of the Gods.

The thrumming sound of the servants gave Yssa her chance

“Are you…the Kore Soteira?” she whispered

“The what?” yorna replied

“Forgive me!”

“Forgive what?” Yorna whispered,
“You are free to speak as you please, I don’t know what a ‘Kore Soteira’ is….”

“The Maiden Saviour, who will deliver this world from the Great Oppressor…the Anointed…”

“I haven’t come here for that, only to find a lost kinsman who I believe is this Anointed,” Yorna replied honestly noting the woman’s unusually dark skin and strange fat nose, indeed they were all so incredibly different it was astounding to her.

“Tell me of yourself, your name, mine is Yorna…” Yorna went on as the clang of blacksmiths hammers drowned any chance of being overheard.

“I am Yssa’Kres, daughter of Hssan’Kres, of the Ingetti, honoring my ancestors and the Spirits of the Grazelands,”

Yorna nodded at the solemn introduction and sensing Yssa’s pride.

“I sense the Grazelands are far from here…”

“Very…the Anointed came years ago with his armies when we refused to abandon our Ancestors and Spirits…he defeated my father, the headman…one of hundreds of leaders since, he took me to his harem as he does the most beautiful of all the women he finds as he conquers cities, villages, the whole Realm bows to him they say, or soon will…”

“You are his captives?”

“Slaves…fortunately he showed no interest in me…he is taken by those with light skin and crimson hair…like yourself…and…” she glanced back to Auuri who had been the one unwilling to return to the palace – the niece of a Jarl of the North her once white skin had been tanned by the harsh suns of the holy city over the years.

“The girl who didn’t wish to return…” Yorna pursed her lips as she began to understand the situation
“This Anointed is acting unjustly and abhorrently…I will put an end to it,”

Yssa stopped in her tracks, memories of hundreds of men and women defying the Anointed with those same words racing through her head.

“Many have said such things…” she gazed into the kind but firm green eyes of the Aethan woman.

“You are the first I believe can do it,”

<<<<>>>>

Yssa’kres description of the Anointed debauchery seemed understated as she saw through the floral carved grates into the opulent courtyard marred by the indifferent use then discarding of pretty little human women.

Little for they all seemed so small to Yorna’s eyes, while better fed she suspected than most of the population of this world, humans still seemed so…fragile…insubstantial compared to People.

“These will have to remain here,” the latest of the insufferable Priests squeaked
“They are no longer worthy to enter the Anointed’s presence, only pure virgins untainted by any lustful thoughts may enter the Harem, are you one such?”

Yorna raised a brow plotting her response when the ‘Anointed’ intervened

“Just let her through!” he called tossing off another woman “The rest of you get out,”

“After I have your word they will not be harmed,” Yorna insisted taking her protection of the women very seriously.

“Fine have them fed and watered,” Maekal sighed.

As Yorna stepped through the silent guards and women all departed, only an old man she had seen beside him earlier remained.

“At last!” Maekal gasped with faux exasperation
“I’ve been waiting for you to come for so long, it’s getting so taxing remaining on this mortal plane…with just these petty little things to distract me…I am ready for my ascension,”

Yorna was not expecting that.

“Your Ascension…”

“Back to the Six Heavens once my task is done and the Middle Realm has been unified in worship to Us, Children of Hexatrion, Blessed of the gods, only one hold out remains and they will kneel or die within days.”

“Kneel or die…you intend to force these to worship you as you did the Ingettii?”

“Of course, in accordance with the Essene Hymns and the Autroch Prophecies, I have brought the Gathering of Souls, forged the Sacred city, all the Pieces of the great Seal have been found, and so you have come to witness my last task…”

Maekal was no fool, he could read faces well, and could see clear confusion on this other Child of the Gods

“You are here for that are you not….”

“I am here to take you home yes, to another world far from here…one you were taken from as an infant, do you remember your home at all?”

“No…my memories only begin when I was found by my Mentor…Arr-Kesh who has cared for me How do you not already know this…” he said suspicious of her.

“Anointed…what is your real name,” Yorna asked

Maekal shared a glance with Arr-Kesh

“The sacred name would be known to a true God,” the raspy old man said, his voice scolding even when gentle.

“I am not a God,” Yorna replied calmly, “Nor are you…Maekal” 

The name was easily taken from the old man’s surface thoughts

“And what I have seen of what has become of you saddens me greatly, forcing others to worship you or killing them, using females even of a lesser species for your enjoyment, this needs to stop now, you need to release these women, use your power to put an end to the patriarchal systems of this world and admit to the populace you are not a God, then and only then can we leave this world for our own”

Maekal was wide eyed and stunned with confusion – she said in one breath he was not a god, then demanded he use his powers as one…

Arr-Kesh parchment like sun worn skin boiled red at the insolence

“You blaspheme here in the presence of the Anointed…you….” He seethed fists clenching

“Succubus, trickster, witch! The Six Curse yo…..”

Before he could utter his curse he was lifted off the ground hands round his throat gasping for air.

Maekal nearly jumped as Valens appeared as if from nowhere a finger raised in an unnecessary physical gesture for the grip he had on the irritating ‘holy’ man.

There was a minor pang of worry in the young Aethan boy at his foster father being levitated and choked, but it dissipated into laughter momentarily

“Ha, even the Supreme Prelate cannot insult a God, you should have known that Arr-Kesh!”

The old man could not hear his foundling, his mind racing between scenes from across his long hard life – from the beatings at the hands of the elder priests as a child when he was disobedient, to his equally brutal treatment of those that denied the Divinity of his ward – how Maekals arrival had been a vindication of Arr-Kesh dedication to the Six, validation of all his sufferings and self-abnegation.

Valens sneered at the almost comical meaning this deluded Outsider had given to Maekals arrival – what Arr-Kesh saw as a ‘Descent from Heaven’ was a crashing slaver star ship, the Blue Divine Energy of the Holy Mother, an Aetheric Shield by an Aethan woman to save her child.

This humour turned to fury as he saw what Arr-Kesh had used Maekal for, using the Aethan child comparatively godlike biology to spearhead a Crusade across this world to placate his Gods.

With fierce scorn Valens twisted Arr-Kesh bones ready to snap them apart.

<Wait!> Yorna counselled telepathically
<He has used Maekal, another Outsider exploiting out power for their own ends, he must be punished>
<He also cared for Maekal as a child, fed and clothed him, kept him from harm, was like a father to him, to destroying him now would hurt Maekal and be a grave ingratitude, spare him Val…for now>

Maekal could hear the whispers of the Divine beings speaking through their minds but was unable to pick the words that trickled too fast.

With a crash Arr-Kesh fell upon the mosaic floor, mind and body reeling.

“I saw you following from on high, are you a Seraphim protecting the Divine Virign?” Maekal asked Valens

<Goddesses…he is completely taken in by this old man’s religious madness…> was Yorna’s comment.

Maekal appeared healthy especially compared to the other humans of this world, he would’ve been barely a year older than Milaea, an infant at the time of the Devastation.  Yorna had to smile at the thought that meant that – given she had been effectively dead for the last 25 years - he was slightly older than she was.

But far less mature, pampered all his life…

<A life of luxury rather than desperation…you will have to be patient in re-educating him…>
<I will have to be?>  Val asked as Maekal desperately tried to understand what they were thinking

<I think you should handle this, I want to learn more of this world and Maekal by speaking to his enemies – who knows a woman better than those truly dedicated to their destruction>

“We are not Seraphim, or divine beings, we are People, Children of the Goddesses of Aethas as you are, but you were stolen by alien beings as an infant, lost on this world far from your home…as I said we are here to take you back when you are ready.” Yorna replied

The near disastrous experience with Taryn had proven the danger of ‘extracting’ a Person in depth with another culture too quickly, and given Maekal was in no immediate danger they had time to ease his transition.

“Yes of Course…I must complete the Great Unification…” Maekal again not able to comprehend the true meaning of her words hearing through the prism of his own beleifs.

“Uh…Valens here will discuss your…preparation…I wish to see the women under my protection released somewhere they will feel safe, can you arrange this, and guarantee until my return there will be no more executions?”

Her face was sweet, voice firm but not harsh, Maekal could not refuse even if he wanted to.

“I’ll have some acolyte arrange it…” He glanced to the struggling form of Arr-Kesh

“Supreme Prelate see it is done,” 

Arr-Kesh was clearly in pain, but Maekal cared nothing for his discomfort, a worrying sign of indifference to one who had cared for him – however harshly.

This would be a long process indeed.

<<<<>>>>
Hssan’Kres

Every day more and more gathered in the two wadis he could see from his place of purification, and more in those he could not.

He had to bathe and scour himself with the purest white sands for two days, Juba’Dhuja’Sabi assisted where she could explaining the niceties of the exotic ritual. Jolmnir visited in the evening updating him on the gathering of the army.

“They’re from all over, this really is the last stand against the Anointed…” he said chewing on the rough foods, distasteful though it looked Hssan would’ve gladly devoured it had he not been forced to fast in preparation.

The Jarl shook his head,

“I just hope I die in glorious battle and lifted to Val’Ha’la rather than see him win…”

“You think he will destroy us?” Hssan asked

“Have you ever seen him lose…O’dan knows what comes next…”

They’d both heard, over and over again, the chants of the Anointeds priests of prophecies that once all submitted to the Anointed across the Middle Realm he would be ascended to Godhood and the Hextarion would bring the End of days, when their worshippers would be raised to the Six Paradises according to their deeds, and the unbelievers….well they both had heard the hours long description of the tortures of the Ice Hell.

“…are you purified yet?” Jolmnir asked in return

“Another day…then…Ancestors know what I will see in the Cave of Metal…but it may be the only chance we have.”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 15, 2021, 12:33:07 AM
 
Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 3

Valens

(https://i.ibb.co/jGmNjXB/Hwk1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/jGmNjXB)
The crackle of fires in the torches and scones was the only sound in the librarium.

Hundreds of tomes, scrolls, books, palm leaves, even stones and entire tree trunks, variously inscribed with sacred writings of the myriad cultures of this world had been hauled here on the Coal Churners as part of the ‘Anointed’s’ moving palace.

Valens took them all in one by one, the language was easy enough to translate, most had varied only a few degrees from Galactic Basic after being cut off from the rest of the galaxy, some written languages used different scripts but a few moments was all that was needed to learn the alphabets.

They told innumerable tales of Gods, Spirits, ancestors, but there were common themes of the writers chosen people being brought peacefully or cast out violently from the heavens, that Gods had once walked among them and would return, images of some of the divine beings bore more than a passing resemblance to other images he had seen in the Jedi archives of both the Celestials and the Rakatta.

Valens hypothesis was this world had been settled by the Rakatta or Celestials, one of the thousands of worlds where they waged war and then abandoned, the human slave population spreading across the planet making new homes, memories of their former masters becoming legend, then Myth – early hopes of the return of their masters trans morphed into a longing for divine release of the appearance of a Savior figure.

It was easy to see how an Aethan child could fit into this role preened by a zealot like Arr-Kesh, sent from above, with powers and strength beyond the imagining of the barely fed populace.

And it made the task of de-radicalizing the boy all the greater.

Leaning over a lectern made of some kind of vast animals femur Valens stared into the compressible but rambling script of genealogies and incoherently difficult laws written in tiny lines on thin paper that seemed to resent the monotony of the so called sacred words.

In a fit of annoyance he slammed the lectern over scattering the words to the ground.  It was all so much irrelevant drivel written by the desperate and ignorant, nothing of it was true and real. 

He would have to show this boy the true nature of the Aether and the galaxy.

Determined he strode back through the halls to the Anointed rooms, Maekal was there with his overly adorned generals, each bearing impractical books of sacred lore on their backs.

“Divine Brother we are planning the final conquest of the Middle Realm, please bless us with your thoughts!” Maekal beamed excitedly.

Taken off guard by the boisterous welcome Valens cautiously approached the table they were huddled over. 

It featured a scale model of a desert plain replete with canyons and dried rivers filled with tiny intricate models of ivory representing cavalry and infantry.

“See here, our scouts have found their encampment, we’ll over the main force directly and engage them here…meanwhile I’ve already dispatched 3000 of my best troops to take a wide arc to assault their camp while we meet them in the field,”

Maekal smiled viciously

“They will have nowhere to run back to this time!”

He exuded pride in his own efforts but something else Valens could not understand, yet that made the ever present Arr-Kesh seethe with jealousy.

“A reasonable plan…but…” he lifted a model with the aether causing the generals to gasp.

“Make sure to keep some of your ambush forces far to the rear to catch the few that do escape when they are tired,”

“Yes…yes…see that it is done!” Maekal demanded “Now leave us, there is much to discuss with the Divine Herald.”

With reverence the Generals nodded and departed, the slaves sealing the door behind them.

“You too Arr-Kesh,” Maekal sneered with a sideways glance

“Anointed I…”

“Should leave,”

A pause and another bitter glance to Valens the Supreme Prelate left.

“What a bore he is,” Maekal as soon as the doors closed,
“Can I interest you in some of the Middle Realms delights, wine, fruits, women?”

Valens ignored the offer as Maekal poured himself a large glass of wine.

“The Prelate is using you for his own delusional ends,” he looked more carefully at Maekal who could barely conceal his mischievous smile.

“But you know that don’t you,”

“Ever since I first got away from him for more than an hour…he revels in the rank to Supreme Prelate, having priests kowtow to him as the ‘Blessed Six-fingered’…all the while thinking he will be ascended when the Unification is complete…but we both know the truth.”

This was interesting.

“The Truth?”

“Of course, no human can ascend beyond the First Heaven, as it is written ‘All shall have their reward for righteousness according to their station, for the Hextarion judges all the righteous according to their ability’ a mere mortal can never truly ascend to the greatest heights.”

Any hope Maekal actually understood washed away.

“Maekal, whatever you believe will occur after your ‘unification’…it will not, you are not the Child of a God, the sky above is not home to the realm of divinities, it is an ever thinning accumulation of atmospheric gases held to the planet by gravity, beyond that is the emptiness of space – we can travel it yes, but it is not full of spirits, only other planets like this one and creatures just as fleshy as you….”

Valens breathed in, something rare when he was off world.

“I know this is hard to comprehend…I was the same no understanding of the galaxy…all those texts and tomes…their cosmologies are invariably false, morals irrelevant…this is not the only planet, the black of night is not the veil of the Hextarion to keep divine light from overwhelming mortals …your powers are real but not unique, dozens of our kind wield them, thousands of others across the galaxy,”

Maekal stood stone still for a moment

“I knew this would happen, you’ve come to test me…”

Valens was desperately trying to be patient as Yoda had been with him…it was a struggle.

“No I’ve come to bring you home, but not before you understand what that means, we’ve made that mistake before with another of our family, Taryn.”

“You’re good,” Maekal laughed “I can feel your sincerity, but I know the words of the false prophets are wrapped in truth but serpents lie within to ensnare the soul,”

Valens hands clench, pondering simply knocking him unconscious or directly pushing his own memories onto Maekals mind – the boy had strength in the aether to be sure but nothing in comparison to him.

Yet he knew he couldn’t. 

Yorna was right, Valens had to learn how to Teach,  not so much for Maekal but for…

For Sofa…

Everyday her eagerness to start a family grew.  That was what Yorna had not been able to pry him, his true fear was not failing in teaching her, she was a guardian, intelligent, strong willed and self assured enough to make do with his limited guidance …but children….his children…would be entirely reliant on him

“Maekal, you need to listen carefully – I don’t deny the possibility this Hextarion is real, we have our own Goddesses, but you are not one of them, you are a member of a race that compared to humans only seem godlike…”

To emphasize the fact he lit his fist with aetheric fire.

“Everything you can do I, Yorna and all of us can, and better,”

“As can all Seraphim and Djinn from the lower heavens,” Maekals sighed as if bored, agreement only emphasizing his lack of comprehension.
“such is the pain of having to descend to the Middle Realm, but I undertook it humility and mercy toward man,”

Irritation grew as options narrowed.  Showing him the ship or any technology wouldn’t work, Valens recalled the ancient saying ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’.

Perhaps…

“You are able to sense others at a distance yes?”

“Of course, it is part of my budding omniscience,” the young Aethan said with sincerity matched only by arrogance.

“Then reach out now…”

"Just around you, look."  Yoda's patient tone had adopted an edge of irritation.  "Everything around us, feel."

Valens stared at the Jedi Master, the look on his face telling, as if he were a sprinter being asked to crawl.  "...And now?"

Even now Yoda was forced to admit that like with so many things his apprentice showed incredible strength and facility when it came to the Force: when first instructed to use telekinesis to lift a small pebble, Valens lifted a boulder.  Or when Yoda had told him to use the Force to assist in a leap over a three-meter fence, Valens had instead leapt to the roof of the adjoining building.  And when Yoda had entered the final program instructions for drone practice, Valens had insisted that the Jedi Master use all eight available.  Simultaneously.

Mentally Yoda shook his head.  Whenever it came to anything martial or concerning combat, Valens was far beyond any Padawan.  He had to suppress the involuntary laughter that threatened to erupt forth.  Padawan?  Valens had outstripped Jedi Masters, powerful ones too.

But he could also be incredibly unexperienced with other aspects of the Force...

"...And now, feel...do nothing, only...feel..." Following his own instructions, Yoda opened himself fully, feeling the individual rocks within the ground, the grass in the field, the trees surrounding them.  But also the small animals surrounding them: from the native marsupials in the trees to the insects flying in the air to even the worms in the soil... "Feel."  Yoda carefully watched.

Valens' face didn't change nor did his demeanor yet Yoda could feel the man project the Force ever outward, covering a vast area.  Even larger than Yoda could truth be told.  ...The more reason to teach I must... He thought.  Instead, he smiled.

"Good...now feel the Force as it surrounds us, permeating everything." His smile became wistful.  "Feel...Life it is.  This, THIS is what need we learn."  He raised his hands.  "Life."

Valens took a breath.  "Yes, Master.  I feel the life, the life of everything around me."  Even though his tone didn't change, Yoda could sense Valens change, "I learned this as a child; it was necessary to ensure that the village was always aware, always secure, always protec--"  He suddenly swallowed hard, as if Valens couldn't finish the thought.  Yoda knew that there must be something deeper there but Valens had never spoken of it...perhaps he'd been unable to protect his own home?  But before he could ask, Valens continued.  "Master, this is nothing that I haven't already learned."

Yoda wanted to rip what little hair he had out.  "Not what I meant is it.  Feel you should, ONLY feel.  The way of the Force is such.  And of Life."  He tried another angle.  "Valens...focus not on what is outside...inwards you must feel..."

Once again Yoda could feel the currents of the Force as Valens--quite literally--wrapped it around and within himself.  "...Master I feel that all of my body's organs and tissues are nominal."

Yoda let out a sigh.  "No, no introspective you must be..."

Valens cut him off, not out of any insolence or disrespect but rather sincere curiosity...and confusion.  "But did you not first tell me that I must expand the...Force..." Always a pause... "...Outwards?"

"Well, yes but..."

"And then that I should do so within myself?"

"Yes, yes...I..." Yoda fell silent.  It was not a question of language; Valens Basic--much like his Force aptitude--was excellent.  Instead, he knew that it was a matter of context.

Put simply: Valens still had trouble grasping colloquialisms.  Once again taking a calming breath, Yoda affixed a smile upon his face.  "At fault am I.  Try this another way I will."

He just hoped that his patience was greater than Valens' confusion.


“A petulant waste of time,” Maekal snapped,

Just as Valens had himself so deeply misunderstood the lesson then, felt the material of his surrounds but not comprehended the meaning, so Maekal now sneered at the sensation that only affirmed his ingrained beliefs. 

He felt the slaves, the priests, the boil of resistance in the desert, and beyond that, yes other beings in the Stars, but to Maekal that was simply further evidence it was the abode of the Six Heavens.

“I hunger for pleasure, join me or not,” the anointed dismissed even as he left the room leaving Valens alone.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 15, 2021, 12:37:02 AM
 
Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 4

Arr-Kesh
(https://i.ibb.co/zfDS8wx/Arrkesh2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/zfDS8wx)

“What is this!” he screamed at the lowly bald acolyte
“A stain upon the paths which the anointed walks, clean it then fast for two…no three months!”

“Yes Blessed one!” the quivering creature bowed as Arr-Kesh unleashed the raw pain of his summary dismissal.

These appearance of these daemons did not bode well, did not accord the scriptures as he understood them. 

And he, the Blessed the one chosen to guide the Anointed, Child of the Gods could not be wrong in his exegesis.

A woman-form warrior must be a ploy of the Old Enemy he reasoned stalking to the library as the cool night airs swept up from the desert surrounding. A succubus yes, the male her daemonic companion…

“By the SIX!” he screamed as he entered the library to find precious tomes scattered on the floor, the Great-Yoruug leg bone lectern smashed upon the floor.

“Desecration!” he hastened to pick up the divine words in the dim fire light…but there upon an upturned page he saw it the passage revealed via bibliomancy

‘The One Beast cometh in two forms, male and female it comes, daughter of sin that dishonors her maidenhead, son of destruction that stirs discord.  Woe to whoever listens to their counsel’

“Yes…yes…they are the Beast…and by the Hextarion, I shall not let them impede the Great Unification!”

<<<<>>>>

“See here!” Maekal said excitedly in the Treasure room the next morning, his ‘guest’ having neither eaten nor drunk, nor likely slept.

“All these belonged to chieftains, heroes, braves…this Katana!” he excitedly lifted it off the runs and presented it to the daemon.

“Belonged to Joshen Tsuji, greatest swordsman of the Kynsh Isles of the west…” arrogance turned up his lips in a smile
“I killed them all so easily,”

Valens remained unimpressed an silent, an uneasy lack of response as Maekal waited for some kind of praise as he was accustomed to from every other being of the Middle Realm.

None was forthcoming.  So far as Valens was concerned there was little to accomplishment in having slain barely fed humans wielding paltry weapons, only a handful of which could’ve even breached Aethan skin.

“You’re right, such crude weapons!” Maekal cast the sword to the ground with a clatter to fill the absence of acclaim.

“Come I’ve something else to show you,” 

Arr-kesh followed behind quietly as Maekal swaggered about as he had all morning intent exposing all his accomplishments to this strange being for reasons Arr-Kesh could not understand.  It was no working neither gold, women nor the finest ointments and silks had impressed this daemon.

They came to the small balcony overlooking the Camp where the Guard of the Burning Seals 3rd company stood at attention, -300 strong they had been in a ready pose in full armor for 4 hours already.

“My finest troops, still nothing compared to my power for course…” he went down among them with a flourishing acrobatic leap. The Daemon stepped off and landed with an indifferent thud.  Arr-kesh had to wind down the freshly finished wooden stairs.

“See their utter discipline, complete dedication to me!” he went up to one of the statue like warriors and drew the dagger from his belt, sliding it up and under the Guards shoulder plate, rich red blood flowing out.

“By their faith they are free of pain!” Maekal almost giggled as he twisted the knife.

It was of no interest to Valens either.  He remained unmoved by this ‘show and tell’

“Not a true legion of Seraphim, but as close as I can manage from this imperfect clay of flesh,” Maekal complained of his Guard, though Arr-kesh sensed a little hurt in his voice.

A brief tour of the camps around the makeshift palace and they came to the Harrowing Court.  Typically placed in the centre of every encampment, among the regular soldiers, it featured concentric hexagons of rusted iron poles driven into the ground from which hung dirt blackened cages in which deserters, heretics and other miscreants were placed to die.

In the desert sun the metal changes heated to extreme temperatures searing their flesh. 
Arr-kesh gave a wry grin at one who pleaded weakly for water. He would have all the water he could wish in the Ice set fifth hell for his heretical thoughts once his body gave out.

“And this…” Maekal slapped a coal chugger, wide, low and long. 
“Upon this we parade the traitors each day through the streets, to remind them of the punishment that awaits those who turn from my worship in this life and the next.”

Brutal displays were hardly shocking to Valens who used them to cow his own enemies when needed…but something about this display seemed off, he followed the threads of the aether to the pleading man.

“What was this woman’s crime?”

“Oh you’ve picked a good one!” Maekals said excitedly snatching a spear off a guard to poke at the wiry old woman whose feminine nakedness disgusted Arr-kesh more than her depredation.
“This bitch preached that the Hextarion are not eternal gods, that I am not a god, but a man,”

“You punish and fear the truth, hide behind an army of fanatics…” Valens replied fixing Maekals gaze or the first time all morning
“…it shows how weak and frightened you are.”  He now looked to Arr-Kesh.

”By force and compulsion,” Yoda said as they wandered the sickeningly humid backstreets where gang colours yielded privilege and threat in equal measure
“These crime lords seek to rule….” He gestured to a body on display, a warning in aurebesh branded into the skin
“Violence, terror a show of power it is not, weakness, fear within externalized it is, power fast accumulated yes, but quickly lost when built upon negative emotions and coercion it is,”
Valens nodded beside him tying it to other lesson Yoda had taught
“The quick and easy path you spoke of?”
Yoda nodded grimly
“Punishment compliance it might gain shortly, but never confidence, never trust – a fist forever clenched cannot be, in time weak it grows, loose its grips, and power held by that fist slips away with it.”


The Daemons face was like Obsidian, grave and dark in countenance, words sharp and glistening.

“Everything you’ve built will crash in days like so many fast burning empires before, the need to repress shows your claims to power are falsehoods,”

“You lie!” Arr-Kesh snapped “Deceiver, our power is evidence of the truth of the Hextarion’s power and blessing, never has all the world worshipped one pantheon till now through the grace and mercy of the Anointed’s coming and Unification…under my guidance,”

“Your Hextarion may be the strongest Gods of his world, but I assure you there are armies far larger, Gods far greater across the galaxy, this planet is one of millions, your so called achievements are insignificant.”

There was bitter experience in Valens words, he knew for a fact Gods were only as strong as their worshippers, existing in symbiosis…his own Goddesses had been unable to protect the People from the overwhelming strength of the Outsiders.

“Does not the fact you still face defiance at every turn teach you something?”

“Heresy fester in the heart of those that love Sin over righteousness, that cleave to the darkness of unbelief!” Arr-Kesh bristled,

Yet Valens was looking at Maekal alone, a momentary flicker of doubt in his aura.



 
Yorna

The Ch’mel were ornery creatures, constantly stopping and starting. 

Yorna was glad she was simply too heavy in full armour for one to carry her.

She walked beside Yssa’Kres Ch’mel leading her own on the dusty path into the deserts.

Maekal’s Supreme Prelate had provided them with mounts, food and some currency in the form of silver, his bitterness growing with each concession fulfilling the ‘Anointed’ promise, his face still flushed with blood from Valens choking.

They were given safe passage and an escort to the edge of the table lands about the encampment, from there they were on their own, seeking out the few tribes still free of the Anointed’s domination in the hidden Wadis.

The women slowly gained confidence as the days passed on the journey. For the first week they were constantly looking over their shoulder waiting for Guards of the Burning Seal to run them down and return them to captivity.

Slowly they came to trust they were in fact free, and began telling their stories to pass the time.

All had been leaders of their tribes, village or the daughters, sisters, nieces of such leaders, taken by the Anointed for his pleasure after their submission.

Some had been trapped in the harem for years, others months, all felt the sully of being held in chains resolved only to survive, nothing more. 

All held the same opinion of the Anointed, fickle, demanding and childish, blessed with incredible strength and intelligence, manipulated by Arr-Kesh out of indolence into action to further his vision of Unifying the Middle Realm under the worship of the Six Gods of the Hexatrion, believing that achieving such would result in the Six Gods raising their servants to immortal bliss.

Yorna doubted this prophecy was accurate, indeed the nature of ‘Prophecy’ as the women explained seemed at odds with her understanding of the Gods – A God assisted and aided their People directly when they could, they didn’t play strange games or ask them to subdue others – Her Peoples Goddesses were Her Peoples, they would not want another people to worship them, especially not by force. 

It seemed more likely that this Arr-Kesh was using his Six Gods will as a cover for his own ambitions, and Maekal as the means of achieving what he as a mere human never could.

But there was another prophecy that intrigued her even more
“Yssa, you called me the Kore Soteira, savior Maiden, what is that prophecy,”
The dark skinned woman shifted on the mat they sat around the camp fire on, close to the heat to stave off the ice night of the desert.

“When the Anointed began his conquest, it is rumored the worshipers of the Six gods came upon a monastery of the Taijits, men of the mountains who believe in the balance and opposition of all things, for every black there is a white, every evil a good.  It is said before the Anointed killed them one spoke a prophecy…that as a Boy united by arms, a Maiden would divide with words, as long as the Boy had reigned with terror, the Maiden would be swift with mercy, that when all was contained, all would be set free…over the years the slaves turned it into a belief that, at the final moment a Maiden that would undo in days what the Anointed had spent years uniting…when you showed the power of the Gods…I thought perhaps…”

Yorna thought upon it deeply the next day almost missing the approach of other riders.

“Up head…” she said to her fellow travelers
“Eight more on the right, twenty on the left,”

The women looked stunned, Yorna forgetting they lacked her range of sensory organs. 

Over a dune eight riders came.

“As you foretold!” one of the women gasped.

Their Ch’mel were much larger than the women’s, armored and wearing carefully embroidered harnesses.  They surrounded the party of women, Yorna stepping forward.

“Who Are you that come to the Land of Shbiia!”

“I Am Yorna, Daughter of Aethas, with me are my friends who seek shelter from the Anointed’s rule.”

“Spies for the Anointed, I have seen these women among his slaves during the Battle!” another rider sneered

“And when has the Anointed ever been heard to parted with his virgins?” the first rider asked
“hmm follow and we will hear your story,”

They were lead for two hours to a small canyon where a camp was hidden in the folds of the rock, fifty or so men and as many women waiting, lookouts with las-arquebus and crossbows high on the escarpment.

Even as they dismounted Yorna felt a surge of emotion and a burly red haired and skinned man rush forward.

“Yssa!”
The dark girl looked perplexed
“I do not know you Northman,”
“No but I you, I am Jolmnir, I was in bondage with your father Hssan’Kres, how are you free of the Anointed, did you escape in the battle,”
“Yes we would all like to know,” The lead rider said.
“Kana’Lop’Seha,” Jolminr said “I vouch for this woman, though I never met her, I know from her father she is a woman of honor and discernment.”

“The Daughter of wielder of the Sword…” Kana considered

“Very well, let us sit exchange salt, water and story.”

Jolmnir joyously explained how he and Hssan had not only escaped the Anointed, but also witnessed a weapon that could harm him, Kana nodding and noting that had he not seen such he would not believe it – and so it was he did not believe Yssa’s tale of her rescue from the Dreng in the pits.

“You say this woman has the power of the Gods!”

“We all saw it!” Yssa insisted
“They are not god like powers,” Yorna explained “All of my people possess such… we came here to find our lost kin, we believe Maekal, the anointed is he, I came to learn from his enemies about what life he has lived,”
“So you claim to be a Child of the Gods too!”
“No more than you are the child of Shbiia of the Scorching Sands,” she shook her head
“Even so…” Kana placed his hands on his belt where his scimitar glistened ready.
“You wish proof…” Yorna sighed.
“Very well.” She pointed
“Those rocks.”
With a gesture to emphasize it was her over two ancienct partially covered stones levitated off the ground. 

The Ch’mel nearby brayed, the other riders and attendants cowered.

To add emphasis she sent a spiral of lighting to strike one, turning the orange stone black with heat.

“O’dan’s beard….”
“Shbiia protect…” Kana said eyes wide as a Ch’mels lashes were long
<<<<>>>>

He was filled.  All the hunger from his fast drained away as he held his daughter once more. Astonishment and joy mingled as the gathered crowd celebrated the return of the former slave girls, and the entire encampment was ablaze with the story of their rescue by the strange Sorceress with red hair ‘Yorna’.

“My child…I never thought…”
“The Ancestors bless us father,”
“I doubted…doubted so much…but I see now this is the straight path for me…the sword…the cave…”
They parted but remained holding each others arms
“My daughter, I have been chosen by the God of this land to wield a great weapon against the false god in the coming battle, first though I must speak to the God itself in a cave of metal, for this I fast and purify myself,”

Parting fully Yssa nodded
“Then return to your preparations, the Anointeds forces muster quickly,”

He looked on her with great pride, she still had the heart of a Headwoman, sacrificing her own desire to speak with him for the greater good.

Across the tables full of what food could be spared, Yorna spoke with Juba’Dhuja’Sabi, the old woman who as was fitting seemed in charge of the camp.

“And the Anointed has not sent his armies to your land of Aethas?” The elderly nomadic woman asked
“Aethas is…very distant.”
“In the North no doubt where red hair is common.”
“Ah…not quite…very…very deep south.” Her eyes were on Hssan, or rather the sword on his blade, a strange black-green that whispered with poison intent.

“Kana says you come to remove the Anointed as was foretold,”

“I don’t know about being the Saviour Maiden,” Yorna replied
“But my brother and I will take the Anointed as soon as he understand the truth,”

Dhuja looked puzzled
“What truth?”
“That he is not a God, that each tribe or village may have its own gods as they please and are chosen by the spirits.”
“Your magic’s are so great?”
“No…but my Will is…Tell me Elder, all you know of these troubled years.”
<<<<>>>>
Arr-Kesh

Ranks of thousands from the inner six rings of the camp, the Vangaurd simply trampling the worshippers and followers tents that cluttered the outskirts so the army had a clear path to begin their match.

All in deep reds and browns the army had been provisioned and armed, Coal Chggers refueled, Ch’mel and Equin’o cavalry readied to cut off the enemies escape.

Arr-Kesh gazed from the highest watch tower as they proceeded out.  They were so close, with this victory the Unification would be complete, and his ascent to the Sixth Heaven to gaze upon the faces of the Hextarion for eternity in rapturous Bliss assured.
(https://i.ibb.co/vjLC7mV/Maek-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/vjLC7mV)
“You see!” he heard the unusually excited of Maekal come from the stair way as the steps grounded under his weight.

“The largest army the Middle Realm has ever seen! I devised new means of organization, checkpoints, distribution, marching and bivouacking for the very purpose!”

Behind him the daemon male looked unimpressed

“A fitting practice for when I take command of the Holy Legion to Destroy the Enemies of the Six don’t you think?”

Valens was only mildly impressed - the armies operation was fluid, its ranks and formations solid, but hardly inspired.

“Within two days we will have them.” Maekal leaned forward pushing past Arr-Kesh as though he were not there.
“Those Ch’mel mounters will be fodder for my cannon…and I will personally slay 36 of the yoogs…”

“Your overconfidence is a weakness,” Valens replied matter-of-fact.

Arr-Kesh suppressed a grin, long had he wished to say so himself.

“What weakness can a God have!” Maekal snapped childishly
“My armies have never known defeat!”

“Your armies have never faced an equal, nor have you,”

The exchange puzzled Arr-Kesh, the daemon spoke almost…wisely?

It infuriated Maekal who trembled with annoyance.

“I am a GOD no one is my equal even a Seraphi…”

SMACK

“I’m not a Seraphim and you are not a God, the sooner you accept that the sooner we can get off this wretched planet,”

A red pulsing hand print marred Maekals face where the Daemon had hit him.  Maekal had been struck before of course, but this was…different…every other time Arr-Kesh had seen it was a lucky act of often suicidal desperation to land a blow in a battle.

This was dismissive, patronizing, a parent disciplining a wayward child.

Arr-Kesh had no idea how Maekal would react – indeed Maekal didn’t know how to react.

“I’ll show you…” the Anointed finally sniffed

“…I’ll defeat their entire army MYSELF!” he finished skulking off leaving the two older men with only the sound of drums and pounding boots.

“What is your intent Daemon,” Arr-Kesh finally said

“By the power of the Six I compel you to speak!”

He raised a powerful Runic Stone Totem from his robes and thrust it into Valens face - one of many he had the Priests and aesthetics up all night preparing to contain and defeat the creature.

Indifferently Valens grabbed the object and crushed it in his genehanced fist leaving the Supreme Prelate with naught but dust.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 15, 2021, 12:42:37 AM
Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 5

The Cave of Metal
(https://i.ibb.co/dkCvLmk/Yor-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/dkCvLmk)
The Rider leapt from the ch’mel that near on collapsed having een raced so hard across the sands.

“They MARCH!” he yelled across the wadi, Ch’mel, Equin’o and the vast shaggy Banthoc all peering up as warriors of a hundred tribes and a dozen lands hastened the sharpening of stakes and binding of armour.

“Then there can be no delay,” Dhuja said as Hssan sat atop a crest overlooking the main camp, body dry from the sand bathing.
“You must enter the cavern at once and seek the God’s blessing, it is just over a half days ride from here, Kaban’Din’Soo will show you the way.”

With solemn determination Hssan hefted the back green blade, its ancient hilt of ivory and dried sinew felt familiar in his hand now.

“Is there anything else I must know,”

“Only be swift,” Dhuja finished before having her handmaid summon Kaban.

Yorna felt only disappointment Valens had been unable to convince Maekal of the truth of who and what he was.  But her curiosity regarding the Sword and the Cave of metal was greater.

Seated around a workbench of wicker covered with unmade arrows Yssa spoke.
“If my father falls, I will take his place as Champion, Yorna daughter of Aethas will you join us against the Tyrant?”
“I…” she glanced aside eyes following a man who must be Kaban among the shelters where a light wind was drifting sand along the makeshift paths.
“You can defeat the Anointed I know it with your sorcery.”

“I will observe and hope to find another way to end this…I need to head off for a little bit, but I will be there I promise.”

<<<<>>>>

The path was long and winding.  Hssan could tell Kaban was talking a circuitous path to avoid anyone following.

They headed toward a chain of rocky mountains, a hundred canyons within creating a labyrinthine complex of red and orange stone which they reached just as night fell, blue dusk light and a full moon all omens of great or terrible things to come.

Even so Hssan could not help the feeling someone was following…not on Ch’mel they would’ve heard it surely…but on foot how could they keep up?

Passing through a canyon barely wide enough for one mounted rider to fit they came to a large opening were a strange mountain with a hollow inwardly leaning coned top stood before them.  IT looked as if a God had stabbed their fist down into the mountain long ago shattering it open.

“The Cave…” Kaban said as he slowed making a sign of protection across his forehead
“Is up that path then down, you will see the glint of metal, follow it, I know no more and will proceed no closer.”

“Thank you friend,” he nodded with appreciation dismounting.

Atop the canyon ridge Yorn looked on the strange sight from above.  There was a great hollow in the mountain, in filled over time by sand and rock…still it appeared something enormous had crashed into it’s center, or exploded out of it – it was impossible to tell.

No time to waste Hssan with the Sword of Shbiia upon his back climbed the rocky outcrops old legs struggling a little at the ascent, so focused he did not notice the lithe woman bounding effortlessly up only a hundred metres away.

In the sandy pit in the center of the crater he saw the first glint of metal.  How such could be in the open and remain untarnished was beyond him.  Half sliding down the sand hill he touched it…it felt hard and astoundingly cold.

“Hephaestiun…metal of the gods…Ancestors protect me…Shbiia show mercy.” He invoked as he proceeded down a rockier path lined by more metal glinting in the star light.

Yorna too paused, the metal was hard and square edged, there were some metals that formed naturally in their lattice this way but few…perhaps Val would know…

Suddenyl she realized she was somehow…not blocked from the aether but…bubbled.

What is this… she expanded her senses and found the reached a limit some two hundred meters from the rough center of the cratered mountain.

Again curiosity overrode teridation and she went on.

Less rock and more metal greeted Hssan as he went on, strange serpent like ropes over his head, a strange yellow green light emanated from the increasingly dark metal walls…this was truly an enchanted place.

A sudden spark like lighting from one of the thick ropes over his head made him jump and bumped into another on the wall – its texture was strange on his arm, unlike anything he had ever felt, like rubber take from trees to chew on, yet harder and more flexible at the same time.

There was a strange sound coming from below, like and endless deep low groan of a wounded animal, it did not pause fro breath or stop.

To Yorna it sounded like the engineering deck on the Persephaea.  She kept to the shadows behind Hssan, observing cautiously.  This appeared to be a technologically advanced building of some kind – a bunker perhaps, or city long buried?

With every turn, every step Hssan saw wonderous and terrible things he could not explain or understand, the cave was not long, perhaps 50 meters, but the terrifying things all about slowed his progress.

At last he saw a blue light up ahead.  Firming himself he strode into the main chamber.

His eyes struggled to adjust to the brighter light.  He almost wished he hadn’t when he saw within.

The walls were covered by forbidden symbols of the Great Seals glowing greed, strange low walls replete with white and blue gems that glowed, a large circular podium in the center with more glowing gems that spun magically about.

He knew not whether he was in the Middle Realm or a Heaven or Hell.

Fascinating…. Yorna thought sliding in behind some kind of control room…

Val would be sure to know that the symbols meant.

Sudennly there was a flash, Hssan was bathed in light.

“Mercy Shbiia mercy!” he called fearing it was the Glory of the God’s gaze which no mortal could survive.

A flash for light the size of his fist in the podium turned to the ghostly form of the God itself.

Hssan fell to his face as Yorna peered more intently.

“Oh Mighty Shbiia do not cast me down!!!” he pleaded

[Life Form Detected – Determining Parameters – Initiating Neural Recognition] the voice was like the wind in a cave , dead and echoing.

Yorna quickly recognized it as a ‘hologram’ like Val had shown her earlier, the round light behind it the projection device.

[Scan Complete – Slave Caste Human-Class-D BASIC Vocaublary – Initiating Interaction…]

It leaned toward Hssan, he felt the hairs on his head and back rise from the electrical energy.

[Greetings Slave – Rise and receive instruction]

Trembling with fear and reverence Hassn lifted his eyes.

The God was beyond imagining, a conical head over a languorous body, eyes poked from stalks on the side of ghostly head.

“Bimma-soo…Biima-soo…” Protect me he chanted to his ancestors in the old tongue.

[Zero Rakattan Detected - Device - Knnarth Kshuuk Located – Prime Directive Celestial Annihilation Must be fulfilled Processing Strategic options]

Rakattan…Celestials…. Yorna would need to ask Valens what these words meant.

[Slave] the God spoke again
[You are Directed to signal the nearest Scout ship of the Infinite Empire and return the Knnarth Kshuuk and The Shbiia’s Command Data Recorder to the Predor.]

A strange hiss from the back of the dais and a cylindrical glowing device rose.

Data recorder… the pieces fell into place for Yorna at once – this was not a cave of metal, this was a ship!  The Data recorder was the equivalent of what Valens had shown her mere days earlier on the Persephaea, the so called ‘black box flight recorder’.

Hssan looked on in utter awe and confusion he could hear but not understand the words as he quivered before the God

[This Unit Repeats – Slave You are Directed to signal the nearest Scout ship of the Infinite Empire and return the Knnarth Kshuuk and The Shbiia’s Command Data Recorder to the Predor for fulfillment of Prime Directive Celestial Annihilation]

“Yes…Yes I am your slave…I will…I will annihilate the Celestial….” it was one of the Anointeds many titles, a rare one saved for the hour long recitation of his name, but one nonetheless.

[Slave You will be rewarded for your efforts.]

Reaching out gingerly Hssan took the proffered device which glowed, the ‘Command Data Recorder’, not doubt an object of immense power.

“Thank you mighty Shbiia,” he said more confidently even as he backed away.

“I will obey…I will obey…” his voice faded as he left, never noticing Yorna at all.

[Scanning…Life Form Detected – Determining Parameters – Initiating Neural Recognition] The scanner now swept over Yorna.
[Unknown Species Detected – Recording Observations]

“You are Shbiia?” she asked confidently

[This unit is Decimator Class Vessel Serving Predor T’alak – Shbiia’s Virtual Interface – do you have a query?]

“Yes…how did the Shbiia come to be here?”

[Error that information is classified for Rakatta Personnel only, hallowed are the Master Race]

She grimaced, clearly this ancient device would yield no useful answers.

“Can you tell me how long you have been here perhaps?”

[15,363 standard years, 47 days, 9 hours and 23 minutes since atmospheric breach.]

“Amazing…is this ship generating the aetheric bubble?”

[Error that information is classified for Rakatta Personnel only, hallowed are the Master Race]

“hmmm…” she didn’t particularly want to spend all day playing a guessing game of what was and was not ‘classified’.

“I’ll return at some point with my friends, they’ll know what to do about you.”

<<<<>>>>

Valens

“Move it!” Maekal yelled over the droning of the riders.

Unusually he was walking to the battle himself, as if to prove his god like stamina.

“Lazy yoogs,” he said to Valens as if seeking a confirmation.

Valens said nothing merely walking along side at a normal pace, for he and Maekal it was some 25 kilometeres per hour placing them at the front of the Vangaurd.

Val! I’ve seen something amazing! Val?! Yorna burst into his mind
Maekal’s head begun swinging wildly searching for the source of what to him was a persistent whisper.
What?

A place called the Cavern of Metal, there was a Ship in there called the Shbiia, it said it belong to the Rakatta Infinite Empire

It spoke?

A Hologram did! she excitedly transmitted to him all she had seen across their Aethenaea Cortices.

what does it all mean Val?

It makes sense now…why there are no force sensitives on this planet…the Rakatta used aether sensitive slaves to power their vessels, the ones left over to labor lacked any power…the humans of this world are their descendants

She well knew how strongly the aether flowed down families, if none had any strength how could their children.

As to this sword of Shbiia…there is an old legend of a weapon called the dagger of Mortis, the only weapons that can kill a Celestial…

Yes what is a Celestial, Hssan thought it mean Maekal?

No…though he might think that – they are a race of beings from ancient times who ruled over much of the galaxy, they were said to be God’s, extremely powerful in the Force, they created many strange monolithic devices the purpose of which even the Jedi don’t know…but at some point they entered a war with the upcoming Rakatta Empire…
Yorna nodded as he telepathically communicated what little he know of the ancient beings
So it would stand to reason they would create a weapon to kill these Celestials… she deduced
...The Sword of Shbiia…oh Hssan is headed to challenge Maekal with that weapon…

No harm will come to him while I’m here Valens assured

Does he understand yet?

No I…I don’t know what to do perhaps…perhaps if wins this battle and no ascension to godhood occurs that will convince him he has been wrong all along

A hard lesson the ever empathetic Yorna replied as Valens looked back to Maekal who looked increasingly annoyed he couldn’t make out the whispered telepathic conversation.

But possibly the only one that will work

Yorna stopped her leaping across canyons and over dunes for a moment

But can we really allow this to happen…let these two sides kill each other?

Their fight is not ours to interfere with, if we do we may only confirm what Maekal believes about us making it all the harder

Valens was right, there were no good options, intervention risked affirming false beliefs, not intervening only risked Outsider lives – outsiders who were already at war and even without Maekal would continue to fight.

And if they simply knocked Maekal out and took him with them…well that would only throw more fuel on the fire of their zealotry –some would believe he had ascended, others he was dead…more war, more death over meaningless assumptions.

It is hard…but we saw how taking a Person too quickly can cause problems with Taryn…Maekal needs to learn on his own.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on February 16, 2021, 05:52:59 PM
FINALLY got caught up!

With things developing at breakneck speed, it seems that both Mili and Ari have been able to refine the process of finding their lost Aethans (not to mention the 4th-Dimensional time-bending for further retrieval  ;)).  I've said it before: LSG is THE authority of Temporal Writing Rules  ;D  As an aside, I'm liking where you're taking us with Mili and Ari (fitting given how they are the physical avatars of two of the Aethan's goddesses).  More of this, please!

OK, I was lucky enough to be able to include Maekal in "Schisms" and had an idea of his character...but THIS characterization is phenomenal!  It would make sense that a young man full of hubris would have been molded by a zealous would-be conqueror.  But this also underscores that--despite being in the futuristic technological "galaxy far, far away"--there are still countless planets bereft of said technologies.  Unsurprising then that such cults of personality would arise surrounding an obviously advanced being compared to the indigenous populous.

Which brings me to Valens and Yorna: how will they respond and ultimately decide upon how to extricate their lost foundling from this society?  That Valens would consult his own memories concerning his own experiences (and his Master Yoda) is telling enough that they are trying hard not to repeat the mistakes of the past (e.g. Taryn).

I can't wait to see where you take us next^^


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2021, 11:40:20 PM
Chapter 24 — Divinity — Fall and Ascent — Part 1
Battle of Shbiia

Morning broke cold over the desert.  Ranks of resistors held the high ground before the Anointed larger army, cavalry hidden behind dunes to the east, artillery to the west.

Their army was as varied as the religious and beliefs of the Middle realm, all manner of arms and armour organized as best as Kana’Lop’Seha could to make use of their skills…if it came to it.

He still hoped the Old Ways would be enough, that rather than fight the monotonous ranks of Red warriors, Hssan’Kress would plunge the Knnarth Kshuuk – Slayer of Gods, the Sword of Shbiia into the false deities heart.

Yorna and Valens watched from opposite sides, both still uncertain what the right course was, grudgingly accepting the procession of Maekals fate for want of a better choice.

The Anointed himself strode confidently forward to the music of a 200 man band of lute, Sitar and Tabla’s, virgins dancing, throwing petals before him, priests chanting and making vows of fasting and mortification for the Anointed victory.

Arr-Kesh sat atop his Palanquin flashing a confident smile to the Captain of the Burning Seal -  he had secret orders to dispatch the daemon who had taken Maekal in with a cadre of Arr-Kesh most loyal warriors during the confusion of battle – he had provide them with the most potent of enchanted weapons from Maekals fallen foes over the years, a hundred Nuns had given their lived to soak their robes in holy anointed blood to protect them from sorcery on Arr-Kesh orders.

Of course this meant, whatever the outcome of the battle of champions, Arr-kesh needed to begin a full battle.

He still could not understand why Maekal humored the daemon, why he even sought approval from him.  Was Arr-kesh not the one who fed him, held his hand as he first walked, recited the scriptures to him every eve?

No, Arr-kesh was Supreme Prelate, above such jealousies, this was a holy war he was fighting.

The indulgent parade reached the center of the no man’s lands, a stark contrast to the simple figure of Hssan’kres, who in the best emulation of Ingetti robes the Nomads could craft walked forward alone.

“Children, I am Come!” the sweet arrogant voice of the Anointed boomed once more like the thunder across the desert.
“Lift your eyes to the Truth, through me know the Divine!”

Hssan sneered and spat.

“So you have said a hundred times, no more! I Hssan’Kres of the Ingetti challenge you False God!”

“One man!” Maekal laughed
“One man against a GOD!”

“One man, honoured by a dozen Gods and the Ancestors and Spirits of all the tribe and nations!” Kana’Lop’Seh called
“Shbiia is with you!” he added
“And O’dan!” Jolmnir added
“Ghaness!” a brave of the Inco River
“Izungi and Izamti!” a Sa’rai warrior
“Xentochal!” a chief of the Amat Jungles of the East.

It started a chant of names of the Gods, ancestors and spirits that overwhelmed the Anointed’s band and singers with its gusto, turning his countenance sour.

“All defeated the Hextarion by my HAND!” Maekal spat back throwing off his headdress.

“Your Gods were weak! I am the True GOD that I AM!”

The chanting continued, unabated despite his protest, a psychological boost to the rebels that brought solidarity between so many different tribes.

Somewhere lost in the thrumming noise a voice whispered Aetheaea, Aeprodaea, Aertemsiaea

“You hear all the Gods that defy you!” Hssan called back silencing the chant
“All these Gods fight you in me, make ready your Soul for death!”

With a piercing ululation Hssan charged gripping the Sword tightly.

Frothing Maekal ran to meet him.

Her mind ready Yorna prepared to intervene…she need not have.

Confused by Valens words, desperate for his approval, furious at the defiance Maekal was unbalanced and haphazard in his attack, despite his enormous biological advantage Hssan avoided the lithe swords.

(https://i.ibb.co/VjBYNrL/You-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/VjBYNrL)

Yorna watched more intently as the sparring continued with no definite advantage – she could sense a power coming off the Sword of Shbiia – perhaps an enchantment much like Aethan weapons that enhanced Hssan’s strength and speed, not enough to overcome an Aethan, but combined with Maekals unstable state enough to survive.

“YOOG! I’ll have your heart eaten by the Dreng, your daughter Hexagonized for centuries!” Maekal spat thrusting and slashing unable to find purchase against the Ingetti.

Hssan kept silent and focused, his feet never still, a bounce in them at all times as he had been taught on his beloved plains.  He was not a swordsman, and perhaps that was why he couldn’t get a blow in, muscle memory kept trying to use the weapon as a spear.

“You will not defy your GOD!!!” Maekal yelled again in frustration as Valens eyes narrowed on the fight with intent interest – not merely the one against Hssan, but with Maekal…he was close…so close to breaking…if Hssan won Valens job would be done for him!

Arr-Kesh looked on with horror – his own elevation to divine glory rested on the ingrate boys shoulders, and he was losing, the old Prelate knew the signs, Maekal was on the verge of throwing a tantrum – a warrior like Hssan would not miss any opportunity.

Flicking three fingers on his thigh he signaled.

With raucous booms the Brass Skorpio’s fired their first volley into the massed ranks of the Rebels.

Three shots fell short but four hit, heated steel ripping limbs and shattering torso’s splaying blood across the front rank.

“Coward!” Kana’Lop’seh cried
“FIRST RANK FIRE, SECOND DIVIDE, ARTILLERY FIRE AT WILL!” he yelled

Yorna’s face dropped, stunned as Valens on the other side was as the battle exploded beyond even the two Aethans ability to contain.

The air crackled with las weapons older than the republic, the twang of unleashed trebuchet and catapult, the droning thump of black powder cannons.

Thousands of red shields locked in perfect order among the Anointed army to block the fusillade, as others opened fire over their heads.

Cavalry on both sides rushed into bloody skirmishes against each other before they could hit the infantry in flanking maneuvers.

“I SAID I WOULD WIN THIS WAR MYSELF!” Maekal was apoplectic at his general and Prelate for intervening for doubting he, a God would win!  So much so he forgot entirely about his enemy in the here and now.

Hsaan’Kres thrust forward just as Yorna gripped his arm with her mind, the blow fell short and sliced thinly into Maekals back, the blood spurting out turned his rage back on his true opponent who was soon lost as the enormous  Banthoc war animals, a double size Bantha with a platform atop carrying crossbow men, they trampled up the dust and buffeted Maekal over as Yorna mentally dragged Hssan away. 

She simply could not let Makeal be harmed by that sword.

The front lines clashed, the Anointed troops breathless charging up the dunes, the rebels somewhat wrong footed in the slippery sands, steel, iron, wood, bronze and copper sought flesh beneath hide and metal armour as the din of arrows and artillery grew.

By the dozen men, and women on the rebel side died from the artillery until Kana led a Ch’mel charge to capture the Anointed’s main guns, only to be chased off by his pike men, but not before setting the barrels of blackpower alight, the explosion rocking the whole field.

“Where is HE, WHERE IS HE!” Maekal lunged his blades into a Banthoc’s legs, shouldered any warrior who neared him to the ground, blood in his nose seeking the fanatical object of his hatred in the delusional belief he was still in single combat.

Expertly weaving through the ranks Valens sought the young aethan out, las shots and swords turned aside by his telekinetic shield. 

Finally he found Maekal in the midst of three dead Banthoc, covered in blood tearing a mahouts head from his shoulders.

“You see!” he yelled to him

“I told you I would kill them all myself, I can do it! We are GODS!”
Finally at the end of his patience Valens gripped the boys arms lifting him off the ground violently shaking him.

“WE ARE NOT GODS YOU FOOL!”

A Ch’mel rider seeing the strange occurrence made to charge, Valens briefly released his grip to send a bolt of lightning into the creatures body flash frying it to death.

An action he realized belatedly confirmed his divine powers to Maekal.

“We couldn’t protect ourselves from a band of slavers and mercenaries as pathetic as these!” with another counterproductive move Valens hurled half a dozen Sa’rai warrior in full armor away from them, a shimmering shield of blue deflected arrows and stray las – bolts, the sand settling within the protective field Valens had created only making Maekal look at him with greater admiration for his divine powers.

“I buried the bodies of hundreds of our People with these bloody hands! I watched my first wife’s heart cauterized by a saber before my eyes! How can I be a God!.”

His face was caked in sweat and itching granules of sand as he yelled through Maekal to his own youthful arrogance, ignorance and lust for destruction.

“I only survived this galaxy because of the generosity of a Jedi Master wiser and kinder than I could imagine…a master…I don’t honor enough…how can I be a God…”

The ground shook with thunderous trampling footsteps as a Banthoc charged and bashed through the kinetite shield.  Dropping Maekal Valens spun, grabbed and drew his bow in a single motion before sending the blue glowing arrow through the beasts brain and up into the mahout and warriors on the platform, slaying the entire crew of 8 in less seconds.

Maekal stared in envious astonished glee.

He wanted to be like him…to have powers like Valens, thought they were the next stage of his ‘ascension’ not realizing the years of pain, loss and struggle Valens had paid for such stamina and abilities.

Darting to his feet Maekal rushed another Banthoc nearby, leaping and slamming himself into it’s body to knock it over, crawling through the tough hide onto the fallen platform, tearing into the humans with ravenous delight while Valens stood staring, his Blackstone bow bouncing off the occasional las arc.

It was then Valens finally realized what Maekal was doing – had been trying all this time - he was trying to impress Valens

Maekal threw the broken Mahout away and dragged anther hapless soldier with the aether to head butt to death.

“SEE I’ll find HIM with the Sword and Kill HIM then I will be worthy of ascension!”

Maekal saw Valens as some kind of…authority figure, divine overseer, parent whom he wanted to prove himself to.

He doubled down on this rushing from the charnel ground he had created to begin making another, Maekal no longer differentiated between friend and foe, ripping red robed men apart as well as the variegated rebels.

“They’re nothing! NOTHING WE ARE THE GODS, they are our TOYS!” his voice was near frantic
(https://i.ibb.co/fXPfQXH/Maek-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/fXPfQXH)(https://i.ibb.co/gVWrXCy/Val-Rota-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/gVWrXCy)
Valens stomachs dropped as he saw for all his anger, all his frustration, he had utterly failed to convince the boy - now rushing to the one thing on this planet that could kill him - of anything rendering the Aethan Guardian silent and lost.

The engines groaned sputtering flecks of blue plasma as the whine of generators overexerting pierced through the thick azure haze of the planets upper atmosphere – Yoda had to wear a sealed survival suit, his apprentice on the edge of the durasteel platform pockmarked from the extreme acidity of gases stood, face set against the backwash of the ships engines face twisted in fury.

Unusually for Valens his hands were out gripped in fists as he grabbed the frigate with the Force dragging it with all his might back to the floating city in the toxic clouds.

The Frigates lower turret turned and opened fire on him, a grunt of effort Valens dodged to the side as the gases lit a curious orange in the blaze of green turbolaser fire into teal clouds.

“Let it go,” Yoda said gently but firmly.

Valens offered a quick glance, then straight back at the Frigate redoubling his telekinetic grip on the tons of doonium trying to break orbit. Valens depth of endurance in the Force was prodigious, but to hold back a frigate burning engines at full sublight was draining even him especially in the corrosive atmosphere his enhanced body could just tolerate.

“Let it go apprentice,” Yoda reiterated.

Valens didn’t look this time, again just tightened his grip even as the Frigate slowly edged away.

They had been pursuing the slavers for two months,  traced them this far…but a mere hour too late to prevent the tip off, their warehouse in the floating city emptied, Valens flow walked an hour to overhear the conversations. Yoda had struggled to keep up with his apprentice encumbered by his sealed suit, reaching it just as the frigate lifted off…

“Let it Go Valens,”

Valens teeth were gritted, sweat – unusual for him – was pouring off, Yoda could feel his connection to the Force, deep as it was, straining – size might matter not but in truth there were limits to how much raw Force energies could flow through flesh and blood before it was damaged.

Desperation leached off the crew of the frigate, someone with a semblance of either madness or genius hit the hyperdrive.

The displacement boomed out, the strength of the shift of pseduomotion caused a repulse in Valens telekinetic grip hurling him backward.

Yoda leapt forward to catch him as best he could.

Tumbled round they finally stopped against an old guard rail.

Out of nowhere an overly heavy fist slammed a hole in the druasteel as Valens rose on his knuckles,  then to his knees, eyes narrow and bloody with determination.

“Let it go…” Yoda reiterated

“Gone they are, lost our opportunity, failed we have,”

“No…” he seethed

“We can still find them…If I Flow walk through the temporal plane….”

Yoda shook his head, as it was Valens flow walking abilities were risky enough and likely to draw the ire of Grand Master Kimar – though sometimes Yoda sensed a disturbing…curiosity?...in the Grandmaster.

“Accept failure, limitations Mortality! we must, all we could - we have done, no more could we do…Let. It. Go.”

(https://i.ibb.co/MPhgXfp/V-61.jpg) (https://ibb.co/MPhgXfp)
“LET IT GO MAEKAL, let it all GO!” Valens cried through blood and terror of war.

The boy paused a brief flicker of sanity out of the rage…

A moment Valens lost as he dove away from a blade thrust at his back.

Eight, no twelve Guards of the Burning Seal surrounded him with different weapons, some glowed with innocuous charms, others had real presence in the aether.

The muted men rushed him three at a time, sword flashing out Valens sliced one weapon apart, bisected another warrior, but they dropped back and were replaced by three fresh warriors.

The chaos of the battle limited his motion and Maekal slipped away in his frenzy.

A heavy hand lifted Hssan up.  Jolmnir, his face bleeding from a cut just over the eye.

“What…where is the Anointed!” Hssan said instantly, he’d been dragged by some unseen force for meters until the battle erupted and the charging hooves of Ch’mel and boots of men forced him to shelter in a lip of sand.

“There toward the Banthoc…” Jolmnir pointed to where a dozen lumbering beasts were surrounded by las and arrow fire…one suddenly fell with a groan.

Hssan spun immediately, Jolmnir caught his shoulder for but a moment.

“Die well brother,”

With a nod the two parted never to meet in this life again.

“What is happening?” Arr-Kesh screamed

“Who is winning where is the Anointed!”

The General’s nearby ignored him, sending off riders with orders rapidly, angered by the sudden explosion of a full battle.

Where are the Seraphim! was the real question he wanted to ask.  This was the Final battle, the world was about to be unified was it not!  It had to be, the whole of the Middle Realm bowed to the Anointed but this group.

He was the Supreme Prelate, who had cared for the child of the Divine Mother! He could not be wrong.

“Oh yes you can,” Yorna said from behind, anger just creasing her eyes.

“You fool you set this whole battle in motion because of your jealously! That Maekal finally found someone who he needed to earn the respect of instead of being given it as his divine right!”

“BITCH you speak to ME in…” once more he felt his throat constrict as Yorna turned to the generals, her eyes flashing purple with righteous power.

“Send orders for a full retreat, the killing stops NOW!”

Horns blared, the Anointeds soldiers had never heard such before, for never had they been called to fall back!

Yorna Valens knew as he took another head, the assassins down to 4 of their original twelve, not without a few decent glancing bows for mere humans it had to be admitted.  But he needed to get to Maekal and fast.

Hssan reached him first and saw him truly for the first time.

Hunched, dripping in black with blood and viscera, some even his own, the so called Celestial appeared as a wretched Nezuko – a blood thirsting demon – yes this was the Anointed exposed for what he was, a tyrannical parasite that needed to be ended.

Occupied with dismembering some poor sod Hssan staggered forward, the air thick with evaporating blood and heat mirages in the noon sun.

Gripping the swords handle as he would a spear he rushed forward.

With spastic instinct Maekal spun and hurled a telekinetic wall – the Swords eldritch power spread it round him as it had the first time, the weary Aethan boy spun too slow.

The blade sunk into his left pectoral, it ground into diamond lattice bone and into the lung and expensive non-human liver and lymphoid equivalent organs before slicing back muscles open and puncturing the skin behind.

The Anointed fell forward, his dense body of 200 kg taking Hssan with it who lost his grip on the sword as stood dumbfounded he had actually done it.

Blood and aether flowed from the wound as Valens skidded to his side, fresh notches in his cloak from the last bodies he had left behind.

Desperate he pushed Maekal over and saw the blade lodged in him.  Valens went to grab the blade.

A piercing shriek filled his head and blast of energy sent his arm spinning – the Slayer of Gods, the weapon created by the Rakatta to kill beings more Force than Flesh resisted the touch of any sensitive to the Force.

Valens looked over the body searching for a solution, finding none but to simply pour healing energy into the child to keep him alive.

He had done this, he had let this go too far…another…ANOTHER Person he had failed.

Hssan watched the sorcerer work his magic, red lighting from his hand into the anointed – truly the Seraphim had come.  And it was distracted.

A discarded sword in his hand Hssan crouched and neared as he would hunt a Cougash in the beloved plains of the Ingetti, his home from which the fiend had driven him – he would take his head for it.

The damage was severe, Maekal’s body trying to isolate and reroute blood flow, Aethan gene engineering was resilient but had limits.

Danger flashed in Valens mind – without thinking he turned Red to blue with a torrent of Aetheric lightning enough to knock Jarys off his feet.

It flash immolated Hssan’Kress, the blade melting in his hand as the battle died with him.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2021, 11:45:31 PM
Chapter 24 — Divinity — Fall and Ascent — Part 2
To Win a Battle and Lose a War

“…he,”
“stable for now we need to get it….”
“I can’t touch it its repels…”
“…ready?”
“HUMAN take that sword out of him,”

Sudden blinding red consumed the ambiguous sense of self once more.

“Only…Rite of cleans…”
“Delusional fool, keep him stable I’ll get the Medi-pack,”

He was drifting away into a deep endless sea…sinking…

Why wasn’t he rising, ascending, was that not the promise of the Prophecies?

Had he won the battle? How could he not? He was a God?

Wasn’t he?

Then why was he feeling the blazing red of damage, injury…more than ever before?

Had he been wrong, mistaken? No how could a God be wrong!

Unless…

Unless he wasn’t what they said he was….

<<<<<>>>>

From Order.  Chaos.

The Rebels were, despite ferocious resistance, defeated.  

With the Anointed deep into the fray the General’s had taken command and used their greater numbers to encircle the enemy fully – it cost a large number of lives truth be told, but no matter, all those who died in the Sacred Name of the Anointed were guaranteed a place in the Third Heaven.

The Succubus had used her vile arts to make the Generals order a retreat, too late for all but a handful of rebels, but irritating nonetheless…and then disaster.

The retreat order had not reached the ambushers lying in wait for the retreating rebels and so most had been cut down, though scouts reported a number had made an escape.

Militarily it was a Victory.

Eschatologically it was a disaster.

There was no triumphant parting of the heavens, no descent of Legions of Seraphim to raise the Anointed up to Glory and the Supreme Prelate at his side.

Out of the blood and sand haze the Daemon had walked glowing furious red carrying the Anointed a green blade through his chest.

Soldiers, prisoners all had seen the limp form of the Godchild carried to the Succubus.

Unable to touch the malefic weapons themselves they had a General take it from the body, then with their nefarious devices from under their robes plastered vile runic totems onto the Anointed body, refusing the prayers, incantations and spells offered by the Priests and Nuns as ‘worse than useless’.

The retreat back had been rapid and silent as confusion and truth spread through the ranks.

Arr-Kesh sent out the order none were to speak of what had occurred to the Anointed on pain of Hexagonization – but he knew it would spread nonetheless.

Hidden behind the curtains of his palanquin the crowds at the enormous encampment were waving banners and sounding horns jubilantly await the Anointed to proceed victoriously and with full divine honors sweep them to the Six heavens according to their due.

Instead they were met by downcast faces of the soldiery and a hurried rush to the Palace in the middle of the military encampment.

“On the floor,” The Succubus ordered as the daemon lifted him to the ground before the Onyx doors had even closed.

“We need the medical equipment on the Transport, we can’t stabilize him alone much longer…it’ll take an hour or so, can you hold him?” Valens asked

The wound Maekal had received from the Rakattan weapon designed to kill Celestials was grievous physically and aetherically.

Lung, upper liver, lower lymph node cortex and pectoral and back muscles were all sealed shut by coagulants, and then patched by bacta strips from Valens and Yorna’s belts to help avoid infection.  Shatterpoint healing could restore it, but not effectively without a heavy dose of specialized fluids and proteins to serve as raw material to build new tissues – all of which was on the ship. And it was too risky to move him any further.

“Just…hurry back,” she replied keeping pressure on the physical wound while doing her best to stem the real wound.

His Aetheric energy was ‘leeching’ out like blood, his aura had been pierced by the Sword of Shbiia as much as his body, weapons designed to kill a Celestial were horrific to an Aethan.

It meant his natural Aether based healing responses were all suppressed, the red lighting flowing from first Valens now her hands to help him was in essence transferring her instinctual healing energies to him…but even that was getting drained by the gaping wound in the aether – they were trying to keep a bucket with a hole in the bottom full.

Valens vanished in a flash of aether enhanced speed.

“You have done this….” Came a whisper behind her through the stunned silence of the priests and servants to see their God fallen.

“You have denied me…the Anointed…his glory, turning our armies away at the last minute while you daemon love stabbed him…” Arr-kesh voice was a hiss.

“I see it now…yes Succubus of Me’phon…she had her ryx hound wound the knight Behmand to nurse him back to health as a ruse to extricate his oath to perform any deed she wished in recompense, only to defile his body with immoderate lust!  It was not tale but prophecy! Guard k…”

Her hand flying from Maekal for barely a second she sent the irritating Supreme prelate into the Onyx doors with a thud.

“Silence!” she needed all her energy to keep Maekal from slipping away.

The city was bubbling about to froth over as Valens raced through it.  Word had already spread that the great victory they had all been awaiting, the final battle in the Great Unification had been won and lost in the same instant.

The rebels were dead, yet the rebels had won.  

For as soldiers spoke to healers and traders, and they to vendors and peasants, as priests and aesthetics cried out in confusion the word spread like fire – the Anointed had fallen and been carried back like a wounded bloodied boy.

There had been no great revelation, no rapture.  The closest thing some experienced as the sun set was seeing a shadowed figure tear through the streets faster than any Ja’guan.

As Valens raced through the streets he barely paid heed to the growing number of camp followers and holy men and women opening locked chests, turning out hidden pouches where totems, symbols and runes of their old gods and ancestors had been hidden from the Zelous followers of the Anointed.

He was in the desert proper as they began whispering in angry huddles, taking up arms.  

‘He was killed on the battlefield’
‘An Ingetti slew him’
‘The False God has fallen’

Nervous guards agitated from the reports they were hearing on the watch towers on the outer ring for the hexagonal far wall saw that the fires and pyres grew in number by the hour.

Crowds gathered at the outer fence line where the severed heads of ‘heretics’ gazed down with rictus glee at their vindication.

A religious tyranny built on strength of arms and the reputation and visible miracles of one man was undone when the witness of hundreds had seen that ‘God’ bleed and collapse at what was to be the moment of his final triumph.

Some wept and sought forgiveness of their gods for abandoning them, aesthetics thrashed their flesh and wails were heard even in the Palace as Maekal lay teetering on death as his priests watched the Sorceress or Succubus sustain him with red fires.

Others quietly packed their belongings and beat a retreat from the shanty towns.

But more – far more - decided now was the time.  A hundred secret societies, a dozen militant guilds had patiently waited for this moment when the Anointed was weak and his armies Zealous energy at its lowest ebb.

Known agents and informers of the Anointed’s Inquisiton were muffled and stabbed, guard patrols overrun.

 By the Seventh Bell the uprising had begun.

<<<<>>>>

Picking himself from the floor Arr-Kesh vowed he would never be so humiliated again.

“You…traitorous mad bitch….” He muttered under his breath as the priest and Guards stood in the entrance hall dumbstruck and leaderless.

Standing to his full height while Yorna remained fully concentrated on keeping Maekal alive he called to them.

“Destroy this demon who seeks to prevent our Victory for the glory of the SIX!”

Oh Vorynx! Yorna reeled as the first blow was struck – but not as she feared from one of the mute zealots.

Marble and wood shattered inward as a boulder of flaming stone crashed the roof inwards killing a half dozen priests beneath it.

Outside the three outer rings of the Hexagonal Military encampment at the center of the tent city were a riot of confusion and chaos.  

The uprising had breached the walls as the dispirited Legionnaires of the Anointed fell back, within the outer rings they found little resistance from the injured exhausted soldiers who had just ‘ won’ against the rebels.

Amidst the frenetic violence of the oppressed killing any who wore the Anointed’s symbols and colors, a sapper team had thrown off their armor and allegiance, had taken hold of a catapult and fired it straight up at the palace to avoid the ire of the motley crew of vengeful slaves bearing down on them.

Hounds barked and screams followed as the chaos grew and grew.

Once more having to stagger off the ground Arr-Kesh turned to the Primus of the Guard of the Seal.

“KILL THEM KILL THEM ALL!”
There were still three companies of the Fanatical Guard in Barracks, two had returned from the battle and four more were on their way as part of the still yet to arrive rear guard – some 2500 in all, enough to suppress this petulant uprising.

Quick hand signals and the Guard sent two of his own to give the order, they would show no mercy and protect the Anointed at all costs.

Now the Succubus… was gone.

“Where did she go!” he yelled at the Primus
“Bring a company to find here she can’t have gone far, you priest bring me that Sword!”

His body was quivering, he could not lose Maekal, he was the key to his own Heavenly rewards, Arr-Kesh would not let his decades of faithful commitment to the Hextarion falter at the last second.  He was supreme Prelate, second only to the God-Child himself!

So he kept telling himself.

Hurry Val! Yorna willed as she pushed through the apartments seeking a place to hide, Maekal’s form on her back.

She felt a wet slick as the bacta patch sloughed off, spinning into a corner behind a Divan she grabbed what costly fabrics were at hand to keep the mess of red and white from overactive immune cells pouring out macrophages contained.

Outside the ruckus was growing, of the six rings around the Palace four were now breached, a unity developing among the aggrieved baying for the blood of the Priests and Supreme Prelate.

It was then they encountered the Guard of the Burning Seal.  Insane devotion mingled with marital prowess and Heavy armour to dissuade the rabble of much hope of proceeding further.

In the dim light of stars and fire their zweihanders ruptured bodies and divested enemies of limbs.  They pushed into the ranks of the unbelievers and formed tight rings of six back to back, creating pockets of slaughterhouse control, ignoring the odd spear or sword that struck them, their armour deflecting all but the closest range las shots.

Heavy rumbles and a crash and the fifth wall was down as a coal chugger crashed through disgorging dozens of desert nomads with scimitars to come round the back of the Elite guard.  The ululations and cries caused not one jot of fear as the Guard culled in the name of their Beloved Anointed.

The Primus stalked the rooms of the palace with his Praetors, the Supreme Prelate carrying the heinous weapon, the Sword of Shbiia that had wounded his lord so much.  The elderly Prelate could barely hold the weapon let alone wield it effectively but refused the Primus silent gestures to take it.

“I will not be denied the satisfaction of slaying the filthy woman!”

Yes the enemy was always in the body of a woman, filthy and supple.  

He could see the fires blaze outside the decorative screens, all seemed to be falling apart, but not, this must be the plan of the Six gods…the Prophecy must be fulfilled!

Only when the whole world Knelt in perfect submission to the Six would they come and bring the Glory to Man…yes this had to be it, the final battle was not in the desert with the Nomads
“…but here, now…the liars and heretics have exposed themselves, a ruse, the Anointed has used their Succubus against them to bring out the liars and apostates…yes…yes…this is the Truth and the Glory…”

The Guard would kill them all, all the false ones would die two deaths this night, in body then soul in the freezing hells of the liars and fornicators!

“Glory to the Six! Glory!” he yelled as they searched another room upturning every object of leisure and luxury…these too he would destroy…his eyes chanced on a young priest, head shaved rummaging in a chest.

“What is this why aren’t you searching for your GOD!” he grabbed him then failing to raise the sword to beat him dropped it to slap the insolent child

The mad old man’s pause Gave Yorna just the break she needed, darting out her hiding place, the weight of keeping Maekal alive beginning to take its toll.

The Primus thrust his fingers forward the guard rushed, Arr-Kesh dropping his random beating to join them.

Over furniture and under willowy curtains that divided rooms she made for the servants entrance of the palace, only to find herself cut off by more advancing guard.

Were her powers not devoted to keeping Maekal alive they would be little trouble, but now forming up round her double handed swords ready to strike she could only try and play for time.

“He’ll die if you touch either of us!”

“A God cannot die!” Arr-Kesh sneered,
“Your time is come succubus, you have failed, you sought to prevent our victory, instead you have hastened it, yes ‘The Dark shall be bringers of the light and reveal that which writhes in the heart’ all the traitors are now shown for what they are!”

He stepped forward clenching the Sword of Shbiia, its nefarious power seeming more focused in his grip creating a troubling hazy distortion to the aether.

Maekal groaned as more energy slipped away from him, she was running too low herself.

The Primus gently moved as if to take the sword from the Prelate but again he refused.

“You’re no god…just a tiny man who wishes he was one!” Yorna delayed

“Silence disgusting impure woman!

Shouting intensified with the more frequent crack of las-carbines, the fighting from below was now within the palace walls. The Guard began to waver in where to place their attention.

Yorna’s enhanced Vestibular sense that detected a large mass drew her attention elsewhere.

“What are you waiting for you sick little imp!” she darted back, “Are you afraid to touch me and soil yourself with lust!”

Face contorted Arr-Kesh would hear no more,
“Mict'Lan'Tecuh'tliiiii!” He screamed the forbidden name of the God of Death and Chaos even as the wall shattered inward behind him.

Chunks of fresh cut stone slammed into his chest as the entire wall and ceiling crunched inward.  Bolts of pure red stuck and ate like lava into the Guards armour.

The Primus grabbed the Sword off the Fallen Prelate and rushed only to have an arrow denser than any material on the planet slice through his abdomen from Valens bow.

Blinding white lights hovered behind the Aethan adults black silhouette as he guided the ship in behind the wall shooting from its open ramp.

Rebel and Guard alike looked up in awe as the Black dagger with small glinting purple and red lights hovered above them.  Some fell to their knees in worship, others fled in terror as its arrival shattered the palace open.

Stepping down Valens drew his sword as Arr-Kesh screamed incoherent words, half the Guard collapsed in prayer, the other half obeyed and ran into their inevitable death as Valens wove through them silent and fatal as any God might.

Hefting Maekal up with the last of her strength Yorna leapt onto the ramp and dragged the dying boy into the ships port room where the medical equipment was.

One last thing… Valens noted heading to the Sword of Shbiia – he couldn’t touch it, but the barely breathing Primus could.

“Throw it onto the ship,” he ordered bearing down on the mind already fading as blood loss diminished function.

Obediently it hurled the weapon up the ramp with its last ounce of strength.

Finished Valens turned to leave.

“WAIT!”

He glanced back.

“Forgive me lord, take me with you unto the Heavens, I did not recognize you Mict'Lan'Tecuh'tli” Arr-Kesh pleaded to the Death and Chaos God of the Hextarion.  

Of course he had come in the guise of an enemy, such was the way of Chaos, how had the Supreme Prelate been so blind!

“I have served faithfully for all my years…cared for the God-Child” he held up his six fingered hand even as astounded rebels and Guards crowded in awe and terror behind him

“See the blessing you gave unto me!”

Indifferent Valens leapt back onto the ship and closed the ramp, leaving Death and Chaos behind him.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 21, 2021, 11:49:45 PM
Chapter 24 — Divinity — Fall and Ascent — Part 3

Valens

His body was repairing, if slowly.

His connection to the aether….

Ensconced within an Aetheric Nexus chamber on the Persephea Maekal was covered in drips and stitches from their rapidly administered triage.  The Nexus ability to create an isolated system within the aether meant no energies left or entered keeping the drain from his aura wound mitigated, and in a promising sign the rest of him was drawing unconsciously on the aether once more.

Even so until Milaea or Kassyndra could assess him it was too early to tell if he would survive.

Another Person Valens had failed.

“Hey,” Yorna comforted as he sat outside the chamber, the ship in hyperspace to rendezvous with the Aephrodaea

“Milaea revived me and Karintha from dead, she can work out how to solve this, especially with Ari to help her….and then you can help teach him all about the ship like you did for me,”

“I cannot teach him…” Yoda admitted in the darkened silence of the mediation rooms of the Northern Tower.
“…too set in his own way of thinking, too old…too strong to be molded”

Soryu sighed feeling his friend’s frustration overwhelm the Force.


“I can’t teach him…even if he survives…” Val whispered his eyes on the floor

“I don’t have the patience or ability to teach him what is real, to guide him…” he looked up to the saddened face of Yorna.

“Val we all have our doubts”

“Yoda…we all have doubts, all think we are doing more harm than good for our students, ma…”

He checked his near slip up, saying ‘Maker knows’ was a dangerous thing in Kimar’s order.

Many is the time I felt I couldn’t teach or even guide Sofa, struggled to deal with her…eccentricities and vulnerabilities, but we learned from each other how to grow together…”


“All teaching is learning together,” she knelt placing a comforting hand on his knee.

“Wise and comforting words my friend…the situation different is…a grown man in his own culture Valens is,”

Valens shook his head,
“He’s too deep in, and I can’t…I don’t have the tolerance to deprogram him, I just want to shake the delusion of him…make him comply…and…”

“A culture that…unfortunately has been destroyed…he has nowhere else to turn, he needs your guidance Yoda, if he challenges what you teach it’s because he respects you’re wise enough to really consider an alternate point of view,”

“Val he can’t go back, not now…he looks up to you like a Father, Maekal never had a figure whose respect he needed to gain before, even Arr-Kesh, he has no one else to turn to,”

”And yet if I fail?” was Yoda’s solemn reply
“Consequences of my failure upon myself accept I will…but not that which harms others,”


A shadow fell across Val’s face as it lowered ever further

“Father…I can’t be a father…what can I teach, impatience, arrogance, violence…how to kill quickly, how to destroy, and despair…it’s them I would fail, and I can’t risk it.”

Yorna finally understood, Val was afraid of failing his own children, and in Maekal he saw a test case he was already floundering.

 “What if it’s the same if Sofa has a baby…”

“My friend…” Soryu reached out to his colleague, smaller in body but far greater in wisdom, in need of his own now.

“You’ve already helped steer him from that, is not the fact he remains with us a sign – I’ve never seen a padawan so quick to change their habits or reflective on their masters words. Trust yourself as well, perhaps he will grow beyond you, may already surpass you in some ways, but is that not what every teacher hopes?”


“He already trusts you, wants your approval, give him that validation when he does what is right, that’s all, and he’ll teach himself by copying you,”

Val only shook his head

“I’m no role model…a machine, a weapon,”

“No you’re a husband, a brother, a friend, just be that! You have the example of Old Andis, Karintha, and especially Yoda to help you when you’re uncertain,”

”Teach by doing, act how you want him to be and he will emulate it,” Soryu insisted

“Yoda failed,” he stared into her eyes at last

“Ten years and he couldn’t make me accept Jedi beliefs, paying in blood and bodies – how can I do in weeks for Maekal what a wiser man couldn’t do for me in years…”

He sighed as he came to his conclusion

“I can’t let Maekal, Sofa, anyone suffer because I failed,”

”Yoda,”
“Val,”

”The most certain way you will fail him, is if you turn away as he needs you most”
”The most certain way you will fail, is if you turn away when they need you most”

<<<<>>>>

“hmmm….” Yorna placed the orb down as Valens still somewhat glum entered the war-room behind the bridge.

“Did you reach them?” he asked, they had some initial problems with their communications orbs, the Sword of Shbiia seeming to have a distorting effect until they placed in the second Nexus chamber to seal it off- having to use a cargo droid to lift it.

“Yes, Kassyndra is on route with Jenaea and Sofa…they seemed distressed…”

“Distressed?”

“Something had happened, but the connection wasn’t strong enough to understand quite what.”

Just what we needed… Valens though ruefully before checking the chrono, they would rendezvous in just over two hours.

“I’ll see what I can do for Maekal,” he said confident Yorna could handle the ship - and anything else - far better than he could.

In the nexus Maekal lay still and quiet, medi-scanners indicated brain waves in a deep sleep pattern.

Kneeling beside Valens placed his hand over the patched wound, healing was not his strong suit…he was designed as a destroyer of life not a generator.  Repairing, supporting, guiding all seemed inimical to that nature – let alone the thought of creating life with Sofa…

”More than who we are we can be, grow we must always, and only into forms we are not can we grow, for good or ill,” the diminutive master said as the setting sun glowed orange cutting through the slat windows to the mediation room.

“As I am now a good teacher for you I am not, and you are a good pupil for me neither…unchanged incompatible…”

Valens felt a stab of worry, Yoda was his best connection to these Jedi to lose him risked everything – had he pushed back too much too often?  Or more likely the Jedi had seen that his true loyalties were as fixed as his genetics.

The Jedi Master’s smile broke tension and brought calm.

“But together growing, two vines intertwining rather than opposed -  Together we can learn, our differences the support upon which the other may be lifted to a new height,”


Valens had grown so much with Yoda from where he started…learned so much…and gave so little credit to the fact for the bitter memory of how they had parted.  Yet his old master still had lessons to teach in the memory of their times together.  As did Yorna in her way…

“Val…” he whispered how long since he had heard that….

But more than any other Sofa…how he missed her even after only a few weeks apart.  Every assessment of their personalities said they never work…yet they grew together.  It had been hard, painful…but now…

He could do the same again, learn along with Maekal as he realized his true place - not among six Gods of the Hextarion, but the demi-gods of the Aethan People. 

 That emotion buoying him, Valens began rebinding and coalescing the cells and soul that lay wounded before him.   

<<<<>>>>

“So where is he?” Kassyndra asked without delay stepping off the ramp at the rendezvous point at a spatial ‘dead zone’ – an unusually empty region between micro sector star clusters on the fringe of the inner and deep core.

Valens and Yorna had expected Milaea and Ari to come as promised weeks before, that they hadn’t meant something very pressing must’ve arisen.
 
“Nexus chamber one,” Yorna replied

“We’ll fix him right up,” Kassyndra said motioning for Jenaea to follow laden with various totems and orbs.  The older woman paused

“Sofa will explain…”

Following out behind them Sofa could see the distress all over her husband, and curiosity and worry on Yorna.

“Well looks like you two had a blast…” Sofa blew out.

“Had a blast?” Yorna queried unfamiliar with the axiom
“I’ll explain later,” Valens whispered.

“Well as bad as things are here…” Sofa went on, down cast as he was her husband at least seemed comforted by Yorna’s presence, a sibling’s closeness in the way she stood beside him, a part of his past recovered for which Sofa could only be grateful even as she delivered what would be shocking news about his other adoptive sister.   

They would need that now more than ever.

“I’m sorry to say, they are worse back home…”

She took a deep breath, this was news that would shatter both their hearts.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on February 24, 2021, 05:57:44 PM
EXCELLENT character arcs here!  Not only do we see Maekal's fall from his omnipotence but--more importantly--we get a look at Valens that is both new and surprising: his self-doubts rising and triggering those memories of his own experiences between him and Yoda.  It is within these scenes that we see that the Devastation did more than destroy Aethan society as a whole, but the aftermath has only serve to further beat down individual People.  Of course, this leads to their own problems...

Even despite his own delusions and depredations, part of me feels sorry for Arr-Kesh: just as his polydactylism is an accident of his birth, so too is his stewardship of Maekal.  Of course, any sympathy that one feels for him is quickly extinguished in light of Arr-Kesh's actions facilitating his dreams of conquest (to say nothing of his misogyny and religious zealotry).  And at the end of it all, once again Valens has left destruction in the wake of his departure.

All-in-all, after what the Aethans have experienced with first Taryn and now Maekal, I can see why Valens would question his own abilities as a teacher (if somewhat unfairly). 

I do wonder if the Rakatan ship will have more to offer in the future; as a Celestial-killer, it could be a VERY bad thing in the wrong hands...


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 28, 2021, 10:29:10 PM
Chapter 25 — Shattered Hearts — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/6wpDQDt/Shattered-Hearts.png) (https://ibb.co/7CTrhrp)
Karintha

A heart, once carbonized by what she now – vaguely – understood had been a high-energy gas compressed into beam of intense energy particles and light called a blaster bolt, squeezed in her breast whole and hearty.

Twelves chambers chained in the steady flow of compression keeping her blood moving at an optimal constant pressure through all her organs and limbs, the hyper-lymph nodes against the interstitial wall of the organs main bone shielded were also compressed to squeeze the myriad vaccines the others had provided her to inoculate her against ‘Republic’, ‘Chiss’ and ‘Yuuzhan Vong’ toxins and disease.

For all the physical restoration Karintha’s heart was on the verge of shattering.

She knelt in near complete darkness in the mournful burial caverns before the thin veil that covered only the pitted armour of a man she had respected even as she awaited her time to take his role as first among equals.

Old Andis body had dissolved into the aether buying precious moments for a handful of the People to survive, nothing but the scorched remains of his hastily thrown on chest plate and broken sword remained.

She had been there, ambushed by the outsiders, and for all intents and purposes died at their hands - a last moment obedience to the Goddesses instruction that she now knew had been transmitted by the girl Milaea to Yorna, had enable her soul to ‘leap’ across the decades and into a new body grown from the genetic sample of her prior one.

Reborn into a world heavy with grief, twenty five years of loss thrust upon her in a matter of days.  Deaths, torment, tortures…horrors that had left the hearts of those who had to endure those times raw with wounds and only thinly calloused, and in their recollecting events to her had come dangerously close to breaking open again.

To kneel before Andis nominal resting place made it real, for to reach it she had to walk past hundreds of others.  Women and men she had known, elders she had learned from, children she had watched play upon the fields….hairline cracks that carved a channel.

But she could not, would not allow her heart to tear asunder and give into the grief that threatened to overwhelm her.  She was the eldest female Guardian – it was her duty and right to ascend to the matriarchal role Andis had long been preparing her for.

And that was why she was here, not just to honour him, but to fully accept the burden of leadership.

In her long absence Valens had led effectively, but he was a Warchief, a strategist and commander of warriors, he had not inherited the interpersonal nous of his grandfather necessary to guide the People at all levels. 

The younger women, Milaea, Aresaea, and Lyaea all had potential, but their youth and the immediacy of their own sufferings kept them from possessing the detached clarity a Matriarch needed.

Karintha knew she possessed all these qualities, never doubted her destiny to ascend to Matriarchy of the People, and in ensuring her resurrection the Goddesses had vindicated her belief.

Her heart was trembling at the sense of grief that pervaded, but it had been spared the savaging the others had suffered giving her emotional stability they all lacked when in a few day’s time her training, genehanced neuro-biology and sheer will saw her heart firm but not scarred ready to encompass with sympathy and guidance all the others under her care.

Gently lifting back the veil she touched the breast plate of her forebear.

There was much for her to learn, much to understand about this ‘galaxy’. 

“By the strength of my Heart and fortitude of my will I shall lead the People,” she promised.

<<<<>>>>
Then

 “That one looks similar,” he pointed into the cell on the left, like most of them the product was cowering in the corner,

“Manager if you would,” he called,

The twi’lek hit a button on his wrist, the product entered a fit flopping around the floor so they could get a good look at it.

“Too chubby,” his wife commented, “Look at all that fat around her waist…”

“Large breasts though,” he noted,

“We don’t need a wet nurse,”

“True,” they strolled along to the next one, intermittently dabbing their perfumed kerchiefs against their noses to reduce the stench of the place.

“Too thin, too young” his wife noted at the next one,

“Ah tell me about this one,”

The red-brown haired girl looked around the right age to be fertile, alert eyes, sitting on the bed eating the meagre rations they provided,

“Ah a fine example,” the Twi’lek preened,

“Young and strong, very healthy, most fertile, regular strong menstrual cycles, and a virgin I can assure you,”

His wife looked less than impressed, “Proven fertility,”

“Ah…due to the young age no…but one look and you can see she has the figure to produce a litter,”

“She does have nice features…can we see her cleaned up,”

“Certainly” Lyr’Ca’Njo replied to the couple.

<<<<>>>>

They dragged her out of the strange room through the back paths she had been brought in on…just more pushing around she didn’t understand.  The aether filled with worry as the others sensed her being taken away…so far three of them had been taken today, two the day before…no one seemed to ever come back.

Her legs were still sore from the rumbling metal box that was too small, and she couldn’t eat the things they gave her, it made her feel sick.

She honestly hoped they were taking her to be slaughtered for food.

They pushed her into a room with a four armed demon creature and pushed her into a seat. 

It poured water all over her and tore her clothing off, then scrubbed her until she thought the skin would be taken off.  She was led shivering as the water cooled against her skin in front of another window…the green skinned rope head thing was there as always with two normal looking people in strange clothes. 

Nyaea didn’t understand any of it…it was too strange…the people outside the window talked and stared at her…the four armed thing pushed her to turn around, stuck its bony fingers in her mouth to show them her teeth…what did they want with her?

As the people nodded and shook hands…smiling…she suddenly thought maybe the metal box wasn’t so bad after all.

<<<<>>>>

“300,000 is robbery, absolute robbery!” she said as they lifted off,

“You get what you pay…Myzm’s is the most reputable dealer in slaves on Nar Shadda…” he replied, the atmosphere breached he began to pour wine from the decanter into bronze cups embossed with the C’Tapahn company logo.

“And no one else offers product with Gifts

“So you say…” she mused taking a brief sniff at the wine, it had been her idea and now she was unhappy about it…it was her fault after all, he was perfectly fertile, she was the one who couldn’t have children…and more importantly could not have a force sensitive one.

It was all the rage among the upper classes of Bonadan, to have a child, or ideally several, with Force Sensitivity, to enhance the Plutocracy blood lines with new powers, an edge over their competitors in the future - Imagine what deals and discounts a negotiator with ‘mind tricks’ to gain, indeed Lady C’Tapahn believed in time it would be a necessity in the endless arms race between the wealthy Plutocractic families at the pinnacle of the Corporate Sector.

Then there was the ever-stabbing issue of her own infertility…ovaries faulty from birth produced eggs lacking mitochondria rendering them effectively dead and her eternally bitter.

And so there was every reason to seek out a Force Sensitive surrogate or donor…

Of course such were rare and very expensive, one Twi’leki woman demanded 3 million credits per egg with no guarantee of insemination or breeding to term!

Purchasing a ‘Gifted’ Slave, however ignoble and irritating it was to venture to Nar Shadda, was far cheaper and you got the mother to sell on after you were done with her, most likely for a tidy profit if she produced two or more offspring.

“Darling don’t be like that, soon you’ll have a soft new child in your arms,”

All the logic did not quell Lady C’Tapahn’s distaste for the quickest way to attain such gifted offspring – natural insemination.

“Only after you frell the little tralk…”

He had to admit the plan had that upside…

“It’s purely mechanical,” he assured her, 

“She may look a little like you but I swear…” he took he hand and lowered it to his groin,

“I’ll need your touch to be able to do it,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 28, 2021, 10:32:24 PM
Chapter 25 — Shattered Hearts — Part 2

Karintha
“And this is the top floor, quite a nice view don’t you think….”

The queer tentacle headed creature never stopped in his shaking. 

According to her niece they were ‘micro tremors’ lesser beings – Outsiders – could not see – apparently her senses were ‘Six times faster than humanoids, four times faster movement speed and strength…it's why all the outsiders seem to talk and move so slowly…it’s annoying…’

Karintha could only agree with Kiraea’s assessment, it was as laborious waiting for the creature to finish its sentences as it was distasteful to look upon its hideous form.

This green thing was called a Lyr’Ca’Njo and was Valens servant, they were on a planet replete with water and sand called Fresia atop the Tower they were constructing according to Adaea’s designs to serve as a headquarter for what would one day be Aertemis Industries – the public face of the People to the ‘Galaxy’

All of this was new and overwhelming to Karintha, but she would not show such weakness or astonishment in the presence of the Twi’lek.

She strode toward the edge of the platform like thing that towered over the small island, the tops of the trees far below s through she was flying.

“This vast opening is a structural weakness….” Karintha noted

“ah…ahaha…my…Lady…this is to be a window for the penthouse to entertain business guests in…the lower levels are well and truly secure where your People can make their abode when on this world,” Lyr said diplomatically, always with an eye on Kiraea afraid she would immolate him at any second

“None too frequently I hope, this place is revolting,” Kiraea sniffed, the salty air absent Noble Gases and comparatively weak solar radiation made this planet unsuitable for long term habitation.

“What is a business guest?….” Karintha questioned never moving from the very edge of the floor some 60 ‘storeys’ above the ground, practising her ‘slow speak’ so outsiders could understand her.

Lyr had met many of the People over the years as their patsy/servant/dogs-body, and to a woman they were all oblivious to most of the galaxies ways of operating, or when they did understand were dismissive of them. But this new woman who looked like a sterner version of Kiraea seemed very…fresh.

“A member of another company or organisation, another People if you will, who may wish to engage in trade with us.  We provide amenities and food as a sign of hospitality and good grace,” Lyr explained under Kiraea’s constant gaze.

“This is now understood,” Karintha replied, apparently her vocabulary was ‘traditional’ still, the others with exposure to Outsiders had adopted a more ‘modern’ grammar.

“And these business guests, these are the one that use what you call ‘credits’ as a store of value and means of transacting in the absence of goods to trade?”

Lyr nodded.

The concept remained difficult for Karintha - Kiraea even.

Among the People there was not so much trade as ‘sharing’ the fishers of the Coastal village would bring to market their excess fish, and distribute to the others, in turn the other villages would offer their wares freely, each took what they needed from the other. 

Yes at times there were shortages, but all understood and appreciated the vagaries of weather and hunting.  To not be willingly to openly share, but to wish to store up items beyond what was needed for a few winters, indeed to horde wealth for its own sake was a bizarre thing.

“And these credits, they are exchanged for People also,”

Lyr quivered across all spectrums, his thermal signature lighting in Karintha’s gaze, shame and guilt radiated off him for having engaged in just such commerce against her People.

“Correct M’lady.”

Karintha thought for a moment eyes transfixed by the rolling waves below and the novelty of seeing it from an avians height.

“Among the People, we recorded lists of goods, pottery, tools, nails…and noted who took how many for what purpose that we might better know what more was required to allocate labour effectively…do these business guests do the same?”

“Yes they have order forms and receipts, all transactions are recorded,”

“Then were the sales of our People recorded?” She deduced

“Ah…well you see the Hutts sold them…and their records are…limited intentionally so…Valens early on attempted to obtain such information from the records and from my mind…”

Lyr winced at the memory of the…well memory…probing.

“He found very little of use unfortunately.”

Deflated her idea had already been attempted and failed she turned to Kiraea

“The Hutts they are the krelug like creatures?” she spoke at her normal cadence faster than Lyr could make out.

Kiraea nodded with a vicious smile

“The ones we will one day show the true meaning of suffering to,”

Karintha’s niece had grown powerful in the decades since the devastation, stronger and possessed of more abilities than Old Andis had been – indeed they all were necessitating a long program of training for Karintha and Yorna to ‘catch up’.

Karintha would be ‘retrained’ by Kiraea, Yorna by Valens. 

The journey to Fresia was part of that, teaching Karintha how their flying carriages – no Star-Ships – worked.
Again Karintha saw they had the form of purpose in their actions – building warships, weapons, seeking out other survivors.  But they lacked the focused drive that a leader could bring.

Her very revival was evidence of that, Milaea and Aresaea, both prodigiously powerful and ingenious women, working on their own to revive the dead where they could, a wonderful goal to be sure - but not cohesively linked to an overarching strategy.

A lack Karintha would soon correct once she truly understood and adapted to the new much larger environment in which they lived.

“But…” she slowed her speech so the Twi’lek could comprehend
“Both parties record the transaction do they not?  Could we obtain a list of all transaction within the time frame of the peoples enslavement across the galaxy and find those related to our People,”

“Ah…M’lady…you see the number of transactions that occur every second in the galaxy…is rather…enormous…hundreds of trillion a minute…even in the Shadow Banks the Hutts use, to try and find a flimsi trail among that is virtually impossible,”

“Vir-Tu-ally…” Karintha did not understand the word,

<Adverb, nearly or almost, but not completely> Kiraea explained telepathically

Karintha nodded looking more intensely at the oceans below. 

“How much water is in this ocean, how much churns each moment, yet still, I can feel the stirrings of the hunt beneath, a volurk finds it prey no matter how many scents and sounds it tries to confound it with.  Tell me does such a trove of information exist,”

“Well…I’ve heard the Intergalactic Banking Clan keeps an archive of all transactions, licit and illicit…on Muunilist for trend analysis for Relativistic Economics.”

“Explain,”

“Well…in simple terms the effects of time dilation, lightspeed transmission and space travel is non-negligible…there is interest and spread to be gained by investing during the period between a transaction is made on say Muunilist and when it is confirmed on Bonadan, even at only a few tenths of a second,”

<The outsiders stop at nothing to profit> Kiraea snidely remarked.

Until she had more lived experience with Outsiders Karintha was attempting to keep her opinion of them neutral…but the strength of Kiraea’s mental influence and enormity of sin committed against the People already made it difficult.  But the fact that Milaea and Aresaea’s opinion offered a counter point to the others made Karintha intent on avoiding judgement – for now.

“This does not interest me, the existence of this archive does, are we able to travel to the ‘Muunilist’, I wish to investigate it, and it will no doubt allow me to learn more of Outsiders commerce.”

Lyr pursed his lips as if he had swallowed something distasteful.

“Ah I don’t believe the IGBC will just hand over such data…and with all due respect…I’m not certain it is wise to use your…’persuasion’ techniques on such a world….”

“Duly noted sleezeball,” Kiraea replied dismissively, “I think it is a good idea, just send us the galactic standard dates our People were on sale at Myzm’s we’ll work it out from there,”

Kiraea made a rapid leap forward that saw the tentacle head cringe and cower before her as if expecting his imminent painful demise.

Instead all Kiraea did was pat the creature on the head like the pet gobril – no that wasn’t right for gobrils as animals of Aethas deserved respect and consideration. So far as her niece was concerned this creature was no more valued than a favoured stick to pry mud from a boot.

“Now you make sure this building is finished before I get back, or my good mood will dissolve along with your skin!”

<<<<>>>>

 
Nyaea
(https://i.ibb.co/VYrkBGP/Nyaea2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/VYrkBGP)
Everything here was cleaner…much nicer than the other place…but it was scarier too…she was alone here, there was no one else from any village nearby…she reached out but only felt ugly things reach back to her, so she quickly shut herself off from the aether.

She didn’t know where she was, shehad  been taken out of the big flying machine and seen another different sky, and terrible gigantic metal fingers that pointed up, or perhaps they were bones of some kind…they’d flown on a smaller flying machine right up to one…when she screamed they had zapped her.

And so she had woken up here in a small room that was very nice and white, as if someone had spent years cleaning it…there was a small comfy bed, a jug of water and strange square things on a plate. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there when the door opened and the man from the other place came in.

“You should eat up, I’ll be back later,” 

“E…Eat what…” she asked quietly,

He rolled his eyes and pointed at the square things then left as quick as he’d come in.

She didn’t trust anything here…but she was hungry…thirsty…and didn’t have any choice.

<<<<>>>>

It had been a long time…she was too scared to do very much…there was a small seat like thing with water in it she hoped was meant as a toilet...the square things were yucky like the food at what she called the window place…this would be the white place.

She still felt cold…a thin white robe was all she had on, nothing underneath at all.  She wondered if everyone who had been taken was taken to a place like this, and what it was for.  There was no window for people to look at them here, she liked that.

Finally the man came back with the woman from before.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, “turn around”
She didn’t understa…
SLAP
Her cheek blazed red and stung as the woman struck her, she pushed her in the back and toward the bed, pushing her over

“You don’t have to be so rough with her!” the man said,

“She doesn’t need a pretty face,” the woman replied,

The woman held her down toward the bed her face pressed against it, she tried to struggle back…

TZZZT

The zap came again and she flopped down onto the bed…she could feel the ghostly touch of hands on her shock numbed skin pushing her about, pulling up her gown. 
The woman was holding her in place…

Slowly as the feeling returned to her body….she realised what was happening.

Before she could scream the woman shoved some of the robe in her mouth.

<<<<>>>>

“Did you enjoy it you little tralk!” the sharp voice woke her up with a start, she immediately cowered into a ball afraid it would happen again.

“You did didn’t you,”

TZZZT
The shock collar went off again, no longer in control of her own body she sprung out, painfully hitting her head into the wall as her limbs went rigid and twisted

“Enjoyed every second of it, trying to seduce him aren’t you”

TZZZT
She flopped on the floor, her teeth chattering in her head as she lost control of her bowels.
“Look at you, filthy little thing,” footsteps somehow went through the rustling in her hears
Whoomp!
A boot kicked her in the stomach
“Little bitch…you should be thankful…but no you’re trying to take my place,”

TZZZT
Her head banged against the floor again, her legs wet with her own refuse.

Her eyes were shut tight but she could feel the heat of another face right up against hers, the cool breath that smelt of flowers.

“You want my husband don’t you…you think because you’re young he’ll fall in love with you don’t you…you’ll see once we have what we want you’ll be thrown out like the garbage you are!”

TZZZT

<<<<>>>>

Karintha

A sudden shock ran through her body as the lines of blue turned to a swirling vortex that seemed more magic than machine driven.

“See easy,” Kiraea smiled beside Karintha after guiding her to her first hyperspace jump, their minds entwined sharing knowledge across the Aethenaea Cortex to garner Karintha all the skills her niece had developed in piloting.

There was much…much more Kiraea had learned that Karintha needed to catch up on, but physical and neurological limitations meant they had to pace her instruction.

While so connected Karintha could not help feel a strange giddiness first hinted when they were on Fresia.  OF course there was excitement that Karintha and Yorna were alive again, but there was something else….something others might miss but a Matriarch must not.

“The nature of this means of locomotion still perplexes me,” Karintha admitted even as she looked her niece over, physically, emotionally and aetherically. 

“Tell me what…”

“Oh in a minute aunty I’m famished,” spinning on her black heels Kiraea made straight for the nature deck, a large two level high open space in the belly of the ship where trees and shrubs were grown in sealed humidified planter boxes.  It was a measure of retaining a connection to their homeworld as well as providing food in the form of Kyala trees and more natural air filtration.

Everything else about the Aethenaea as they called this chariot of the stars was clean, grey and light blue in keeping with their Chiss allies aesthetic.  There was much space Karintha thought for decoration, with each alcove and wall she passed she imagined how a tapestry or statue might be placed.

Reaching the Nature deck Kiraea was already gulping down reheated stew and kyala fruits as if a famine had just ended.

Sitting next to her Karintha merely nibbled at a salted nerf jerky.

“You seem unusually excited my love,” Karintha probed

“Just happy to have you back,”

“No there is more than that…” she leaned forward slightly sniffing the air about her niece, faint traces of pheromones were there as expected, but so was a second scent, one that stimulated a protective response in men even more than usual…that combined with her appetite….

“My love, are you…”

Kiraea paused her chewing for a moment.

“I was wondering how long it would take, but then you are only just back from the dead,” Kiraea placed a hand on Karintha’s leg for support and connection

“It was three moons before you were revived, the moon was waxing, three planets were crossing Aertemisaea’s belt…and Jarys had just returned taught in muscle from training with Ari for months….”

Karintha nodded “An auspicious sign to conceive under,” she wrapped her arm about her nieces shoulders
“Your child will carry Aertemisaea’s spirit strongly,”

“Yes…I’m happy you will be here…though now I don’t know what to name the child if it’s a girl,”

“There is much time to decide,” A typical pregnancy lasted three seasons, around 180-200 days, which equated to as Karintha understood just over an Outsider standard year. She was only roughly a third of the way along and not yet showing.

“I’m surprised Sofa didn’t beat me to it, having the first child since….” again there it was the bleeding wound just beneath the surface of her heart. 

Valens covered it with strategizing, Jarys teaching and training, Maeson his gardening and farm work, Melron his historiography, Selaena rabid violence, Kiraea a fiery temper.  Karintha hoped this child would cover and bind that tear with new hope – for all of them.

“…I haven’t told anyone else yet, even Jarys, the change in pheromones are getting harder to conceal…but…I know this child will be welcomed…it’s just for now, with you and Yorna in need of training, and the efforts to recover lost People,”

“You do not wish to distract him until you are certain the child will take,” around one in six babies failed to thrive after a season, usually due to the shortages the villages experienced of food, or an outbreak of a pox, though the access to Chiss manufactured food and better medical technology should mean Kiraea was almost certainly free of such concerns – something she sensed in her aunts thoughts.

“Yes, though I know we have more than enough food, still…” For all her brashness Karintha well understood how sensitive Kiraea was in matters of family.

“You should tell him upon our return, let him share in the joyous news…hopefully by then Yorna and I will be fully recovered and can take your place in the event of another recovery quest. The goddesses will attend you all the better at home,”

Even still there was a hint of reluctance, an uncharacteristic bashfulness in her niece.

“You still worry?”

“This wasn’t planned,I hope Jarys is joyful when he hears the news,”

Now was Karintha’s role as matriarch most crucial, not only in comforting those who doubted and feared, but ensuring none of the People doubted the others to maintain supportive cohesion, especially among mating pairs.

“He will, though I have had little opportunity to spend time with Jarys since my revival…form what I have seen he has cast off the tumultuous fires of youth and grown into a just and controlled man, much like Old Andis, he will be overjoyed to hear this,”

“You’re right…he grieves for not raising Milaea…finally he’ll have the chance to be with his child from the start…thank you Aunty,” she half leapt into a hug round her neck,
“I just wished you’d come back sooner!”

The Goddesses timing Karintha understood, more than anyone, was always impeccable.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 28, 2021, 10:35:52 PM
 
Chapter 25 — Shattered Hearts — Part 3
Nyaea
“Shhh…we don’t need to wake anyone up do we…” the man whispered in her ear as he licked along the side of her face,

“Our little secret…oh, you are so beautiful…so beautiful…”

It was better when he came alone, the woman would always hit her when both of them came in…

She’d given up trying to resist after the first time…there was just no point…she just lay back and let him go…it hurt…it always hurt…

They didn’t use the collar anymore…she didn’t know why…now when the woman came alone she would only hit her, usually with her hands, sometimes with a jug or plate…but only on her arms and legs.

She didn’t know how long she had been here…but something wasn’t working for Them, the woman was getting angrier about it and hitting her more often, the man didn’t seem to care.

She just didn’t understand what was happening…and she’d given up trying.  This was her existence…now,

The man and woman would come in, the woman held her while he used her,

Then the woman would come alone and yell at her and beat her

Then the man would come alone and use her more and say things to her, sometimes he would bring her different things to eat

Sometimes the woman would come alone twice in a row, sometimes they would both come three times in a row…there was no pattern to it even if she did care to try and work it out…

The only thing she had left to hope for, was that the man would come alone rather than the woman next time…none of it was good…but maybe that was less bad.
<<<<>>>>

 
Karintha
(https://i.ibb.co/R9bMgjL/Kar-9.jpg) (https://ibb.co/R9bMgjL)
There seemed no end to the variety of climates and geographical features the galaxy had to offer.

Muunilist, across which Karintha flew a smaller chariot, a Karintha Class Assault Transport - to not a little of Kiraea’s amused giggling - was a lush world of forests, plains, and tall jagged mountains, divided by shallow oceans of rich blue covering underwater volcanoes that yielded rich mineral from the planets core, providing easy access to the wealth for the native Muun’s.

They took the chance to extend Karintha’s confidence in atmosphere piloting before they came across an artificial mountain range – the city of Harnaidan.

Built above caverns containing vast, naturally heated lakes and enormous hot springs heated by magma vents, hundreds of spires surrounded the tallest four monoliths that stretched kilometres into the sky.

Though Karintha had seen buildings on Fresia, they were all largely isolated, at most three or four on the larger islands of that planet…this was something different so many buildings in one place it constituted in her eyes a scar on the land.

“Why do the gods of this world permit this…” She wondered aloud as they approached being guided by floating lumens into the city air traffic lanes.

The People made houses and halls yes, but they always built  side in connection with the natural, hollowing out large trees, working with the rock, barns always of nearby woods and never overshadowing the trees that still grew.  Even their fortresses were all within the body of the mountains, never so foolishly conspicuous or prideful as to compete with them.

“They ignore their native gods these ‘Muuns’ they worship credits now, or their upper castes who build these things…”

“We shall not follow their error…” Karintha determined

“We must find a place to make an offering to the gods of this world and seek their blessing to visit and assistance with our efforts,”

Kiraea’s face scrunched as it always did, ever since she was a babe when about to defy some instruction.

“If our quarrel is with the Muuns who ignore the gods…then that makes the divinities, however weakened, our natural allies,”

“Fine…but don’t expect much.”

They found a bay to land in a vast docking tower easily enough, Karintha savouring the novelty of arranging it via the talking device called a ‘comm’, something Kiraea found amusing given its now predictably chore-like nature to her.

A brief interrogation of a tourist booth soon found access to a reserve with Harnaidan that was kept largely natural, a wide lake with a smoker just below the surface surrounded by native albeit carefully manicured gardens.

Karintha looked in equal disgust and curiosity at the tall willowy Muuns that made her seem short and stocky by comparison.

Their gaunt features seemed so…weak…so incapable of anything amounting to strength or prowess…whatever their mathematical acumen…she was certain she could crush the life out of them by the score if she desired. 

Something Kiraea did nothing to contradict with her open disgust for the natives of this world.

Coming to the edge of the lake, where water, soil and rock met she knelt to scoop a handful of all three.

“Gods of Muunilist, I am Karintha of Aethas, daughter of the Three goddesses with my kinswoman Kiraea, we come here to seek information of our lost family and friends, in your benevolence and mercy we ask for your assistance.”

She sensed no immediate communication from the gods.  Only a strange mix of discomfort, irritation and guilt from her niece.

“You do not think this an appropriate use of our time?” Karintha asked

“I’ve been to dozens of planets and never bothered, why would foreign gods, even if they are still alive beneath these technological terrors, care to help us?”

“Perhaps they will not, but it remains our duty to show respect and as we would when visiting another Person’s house offer proper greetings.”

“Outsiders don’t deserve respect!” Kiraea hissed “Only death,”

Karintha rose and locked eyes with her niece, seeing not the face and body that was before her now, but the wounded heart of a teen girl still understandably traumatized from being ripped from her world and seeing the near complete genocide of her People.

“So your experience has taught you my love,” Karintha soothed

“But we diminish ourselves by adopting the outsiders impolite and indifferent ways, the outsiders have taken too much already, do not let them take out dignity.”

<<<<>>>>

The walk and trip on a cart that moved along magnets much like a mining cart was quiet, Karintha hoped it meant Kiraea was reflecting on her words.

Her niece was still in so many ways the same girl Karintha had been violently taken from…had lacked guidance when she needed it the most.  Karintha feared it might be too late to correct her.

Her ruminations were cut short as they approached the 4 kilometer tall spire of the Head Quarters of the Intergalactic Banking Guild.

The enormity of it shocked her, the glow of the aura of literally millions of beings working with in it incredible, the telepathic wash of concentration and focus of the bankers creating an aetheric microclimate thar re-enforced itself in what convention managerial analysts called ‘corporate culture’ but Karintha knew was far deeper.

The building itself was monolithic, controlled in adornment columns larger than mountains were carved in the image of the Muun founders of the clan, near mythic figures, and below them very real former and the current Chairman. 

The focus so so many beings on profiting the bank, and thereby themselves, generated in what Karintha’s cultural interpretation was akin to its own ‘god’, but one of artificial creation, an ephemeral one that could be measured in credits and was only tentatively held so long those credits were sufficient.

“You are right Kiraea…” She whispered

“These beings are ill…a malady of the mind, a detachment from what is real….creating and obsessing on such ephemera…”

Karintha did not begrudge the desire to trade, and by their financial machines facilitate trade…but the rapacious desire to profit in any way possible from it.

“Just makes them easier to control, wave some credits in front of their face and they’ll eat their own mother,”

The magna-rail entered into the building, a tunnel replete with lights taking them to a station in the heart of it.

The lights turned to screens the size of barns covered in writing, names and numbers Karintha could not comprehend that the other passengers in the wide sparsely populated carriage took an occasional interest in.

“Stock exchange details…I’ll explain later,”

The exited to a vast concourse of practical granites and durasteel, thousands of beings, about half Muun, the rest creatures Karintha could never have dreamed of in the most wild nightmares rushing to and fro.

“Damn droids…” Kiraea sighed, Karintha turning to the place she was focused on, a line of a dozen small gates each manned by a metal simulacrum of a Muun, looking over beings as they passed through and speaking to them

“The unliving metal things you spoke of?”

Kiraea nodded,
“A check point, follow my lead,”

They approached one of the gates, impassive dead lights staring at them, it seemed to Karintha despite the artificiality of the droid the craftsmen had been unable to keep from anthropomorphizing them to some degree, the red lights stood in lieu of eyes.

[Please State Appoint ID] the strangest voice Karintha had ever heard said, strange for there was no emotion, no ripple on the mental plane of thought that even the outsider Lyr possessed.

Kiraea gave a wicked smile and Karintha felt a small build up before the head of the droid burst into blue energy crackling like lightning.

<And that’s how you deal with droids, find where they energy is highest and send a spark of lightning at it to overload, then wait for the living outsider to come and…>

She left it hanging as two Muun in yellow technician overalls and three in red security one approached.

“What happened,” one in red asked its voice a high pitched wheezing

“It just exploded!” Kiraea replied acting exasperated
“And I’m late for an appointment can you let me through already!” Karintha sensed her press outward at all five Muun with her mind, hammer her will to overwhelm their comparatively petty minds.

“You’re late for an appointment, I’ll let you through already,” it said pressing various buttons on a blinking coloured wrist gauntlet that stretched along it long wiry arm.

The small clear gate opened and the women walked through

“Good now take me to whoever is in charge of security,”

<…go straight to the top and make them yours,> Kiraea finally finished

<next time I’ll teach you how to break into places like this…but for now understanding controlling outsiders is more essential, most are fairly simple minded, a decent press is enough, but sometimes you need to pluck out their desires and motives and twist those, make them think you’re helping them get what they want…usually credits,>
She explained as they were taken into one of the moving sealed rooms called turbo lifts that Karintha’s vestibular senses told her went up, and across.

They finally came to a place full of red coloured Muuns, lead past rooms replete with screens and weapons lockers to an elderly Muun at a desk, a strange shaggy creature with a horn speaking to it.

<a Gotal…irritating…> Kiraea named the furred creature
<Gotal?>
<Aether sensitive, some places keep them or other aether sensitive beings around to detect anyone using mental control…>

“Security Director Sol, this is….is….”

The Gotal immediately sensing the touch of mind control sprang up, eyes alert for the twisting of will,

It was not fast enough to outdo Kiraea.

Her six levels of consciousness all active, the door behind them ratched shut, junior officer flung and pinned to it. While the Director was locked to his chair.

Her senses and eyes scanning the room with a thieves experience Kiraea overloaded the hidden cameras and recording devices even as she lifted the Gotal off the ground and crushed it brain within its skull.

“Tell your subordinates everything is fine,” she told the now rheumy eyes Director.

He pressed a button on his wrist band,

“All Staff stand down, everything is fine,”

“There was a power system overload,”

“There was a power system overload,”
“Return to your stations,”

“Return to your stations,”

“Good…now you will assist us,”

<<<<<>>>>>

Rol Kin, Director of Archives and Data Consolidation stood perplexed at the Turbo lift. The Security Director had said it was urgent, critically important he be there personally.

He had never spoken to the Security Director before, could not imagine what would be so urgent in the deep archive banks far below the surface amidst the endless rows of hyper-cooled quantum processors than analyst the terabytes of data on every credit transaction across the galaxy every micro second.

The Turbo lift opened to reveal the Director, two guards and two human women.

<your Turn Aunty> Kiraea offered

Karintha stepped forward

“You are responsible for the archives?”

“Yes…Security Director what is…”

Karintha pressed lightly

“You will assist us searching the archives, I require ones of those large screens and the complete list of transactions…”

“Ma’am I am addressing the Security Director,” Kin replied

Not hard enough Karintha realised, she pressed harder

“As I said…you will assist us in searching the archives….”

The Muuns ears began to bleed

<It’s hard to get it right…> Kiraea sighed
<Each species has a different tolerance, some can be killed or brain dead with a light touch, others take even four levels of thought to suppress…Lya, Ada and I would practice on all kind of beings in shopping complexes,>

Karintha eased back
“You are able to give us full access to the archives…”

“ugh… yesss ma’am….”

<<<<>>>>
Lyr had been right.

The number of transactions ever second was vast.  There were a Decillion of transactions every second, the details stored by the IGBC included the amount, time, the two accounts and then other metadata such as location, purpose, names of accounts.

Unfortunately, the details were not always complete, not every bank recorded the same details, or was willing to share, some had accounts but no amounts, others amounts by no accounts.

Karintha feared it would be fruitless.

She stood before a vast screen scrolling through billions of transactions each barely a few pixels high per second, behind her a crowd of Muun with their heads swaying gently, Kiraea suppressed most of them, Karintha the rest.

She knew she had neither the time nor skill to find the exact transactions using analysis methods, she trusted in the aether.

She looked at the data not with her eyes but with her mind and heart, seeking in them the trace of lines of fate, the shatter lines of destiny either backwards to the devastation, or forward to her own future, trusting in the Goddesses, and the neglected gods of Muunilist to guide her.

Kiraea contented herself by speaking to the Security director, getting explicit details about the vaults security systems ‘for future reference’, and even summoned the Director of Cyber Defence to ‘speak’ with him as well and provide samples of their ‘firewalls, antivirals and counter-hacking worms’ contained on a tiny silver disc.

It astounded Karintha the volume of information on these machines, and also the ease with which People could obtain it, it made her appreciate how rare and unique the People were…a pattern that could lead to arrogance and disdain for these lesser creatures as her niece showed.

Lines in her minds eye began to form, sequences became familiar, brighter to her though their luminosity of the screen was the same.

<Show me something…> she willed, she quickly tapped commands to narrow the filters those numbers that were shining, slowly the lines of fate converged more and more until…until..

“There…this transaction…300,000, the time frame is correct, the last digits on one account indicate Nar Shadda but not exactly with whom…the other side though…Director what does this number mean,”

The Muun walked wobbly toward the screen…

“Code for Bonadan….”
“another world…”
But most important of all was the transactions brief description
‘F sensitive female X1’

Kiraea smiled widely
“You did it! A real lead…Muun give us a back up of the data extract we can analyse more later…now comes the fun part!” a vicious glee filled her voice.

“Let’s see…” she picked out one of the Muun and lifted him with the aether

“You are going to decide you desperately want to let off thermal detonators in an entertainment venue….you are going to secretly channel funds to the Indigenous Peoples Charities I have set up…and you are going to very carefully and quietly take up murdering mid ranking managers…your turn Aunty,”

Kiraea turned with a joyous sadism on her face to be met only with a confused look bordering on appalled.

“What is the meaning of this Kiraea?”

“We have to destroy these outsiders, they have served their purpose, they might as well take a few more out with them!”

“They have served their purpose but there is no reason cause to harm them, remove their memories for our safety, order them to delete all records of our interactions, but death without reason is ill reward for their assistance however compelled,”

Kiraea seemed perplexed, almost angry

“They are outsiders, make them kill other outsiders, less for us later,” she said emphatically.

“We kill our enemies and those who threaten us, I sense no threat from those we have made our thralls,”

Kiraea shook her head
“You don’t understand Aunt, they are outsiders we can’t openly bombard this planet for fear of the Jedi but we must cause some chaos and pain in revenge for their crimes against us,”

No…you must cause it to assuage your own rage Karintha realised

Not giving her a chance to intervene Kiraea hammered each of the Muuns minds with her will and sliced memories of the day away with a scalpel of metaphysical energy.

“After this day you will delete all records electronic and otherwise of what happened, then you’ll do everything you can to cause destruction on the largest scale to your filthy lanky covetous race!”

Karintha had not the will, nor strength – yet -  to stop her.

But when they returned to the ship…

They would need a long Heart to Heart.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 28, 2021, 10:39:10 PM
Chapter 25 — Shattered Hearts — Part 4

Nyaea
“Useless aren’t you….” The woman sneered.

The man hadn’t visited for a while, Nyaea hoped he never would.

For sometime now she had simply stopped having any sense of feeling, only a vague awareness of what was happening, as if she were watching a play that they used to put on at the Village square in some place another lifetime ago.

“Over a year and no offspring…” no matter where she stood and despite the fact she was somewhat shorter, the woman always seemed to be looking down her aquiline nose at Nyaea and the whole galaxy, seemingly offended it didn’t acknowledge her as its Liege and mistress.

“If you don’t produce something soon I’ll have you sold to the most ill-repute ‘pleasure’ house I can find, you hear me little bitch!”

The woman pressed close the control to shock colour in her hand, her thumb teasing the switch.

Like a play she had seen a dozen times Nyaea knew it was coming, could even tell when, first the woman taunted, then slapped her, then zapped her.

“It’ll be MINE you know that, the child’s gifts will be mine to control, you’re just the fleshy heifer to carry it, you’re keeping my child, my future from me!”

Now the slap came, red sensations flowed by like so much time, indifferent and predictable.

“And you can’t have him either, oh I know bout his secret little visits….I’ll teach him a lesson for that…but no matter, just more chances for your fat body to conceive.”

She grabbed at her sides – there was little ‘fat’ to be had, Nyaea had put on a little weight but still the food was hardly nourishing, it felt weak and floating - empty like her very sense of self.

“You’ll pay us back for all the time and credits you’ve cost us ungrateful bitch…”

Now the shocks came.

<<<<>>>

 
Karintha

“I see more clearly now why the Goddesses brought me back…”

Her voice was clear and calm on the bridge of the Aethenaea – named for the Goddess of a Wisdom her niece standing opposite lacked.

“You’ve grown much my love, but in other ways regressed…you’re vicious and vengeful without cause…I always told you and the other young ones ‘to be angry is easy, but angry at the right person, at the right time, in the right way…that is hard, that is your challenge…these random acts of sadism, however satisfying achieve nothing but a temporary thrill.”

Karintha was careful not to completely chastise her nieces actions, no doubt slaughtering outsiders was in many situations a perfectly reasonable thing, but it needed to be done with purpose and precision.

The disappointment on Kiraea’s face was nothing compared to the tide of guilt building in the aether behind her nieces emotional barriers, her heart on the verge of breaking beneath one of the sharpest of blades – the criticism of a respected parent.

Such a swell of emotion was not good for the baby.

“I don’t blame you, I can’t understand or appreciate the suffering you have personally endured, being bought and sold, lost, feeling alone abandoned…growing without proper guidance…” she placed her hands on her nieces shoulders that tended to slouch beneath the weight

“I’m here now, to teach and learn, to remind you of those things you forgot in the storm of chaos following…no not following for it had not ended yet – during this devastation of our People and remind you of who you are,”

She righted her niece to look her in the eye once more

“You are Kiraea daughter of daughter of Yilaea and Karan, whose heart blazes with power that protects her People, and who will soon be a mother to the first of a new generation of People, let that child look up and see their mother strong and protective, not sniping and impulsive.”

Karintha’s tone, matriarchal and firm had kept Kiraea silent just as she had been as a child when she was petulant, now with a shifting shamed gaze she whispered.

“I’m sorry…”

“You did what you felt was right my love…but what feels right and what is right…the Goddess of Wisdom must guide us to discern the difference…I’ll take the ship out, go and rest in the nature deck,”

<<<<<>>>>

The door closed Karintha breathed out heavily, the ship on course of Bonadan, the account code of the bank used to buy a female of the People etched into her memory even against the fatigue of the long journey.

The work of a matriarch was taxing, to support others meant taking the weight of their pains and griefs upon yourself until they could divest them or bear them better.

Sitting upon the bed she looked at the small box containing link orbs to the other Guardians – each would have their own sufferings to be dealt with, and as Matriarch it was on her to learn and then address them all directly as with Kiraea or indirectly if that was more suitable.

For now though she needed to rest and reflect, the overabundance of novelty of travelling to distant planets and visiting aliens creatures still threatening to undo her own composure

Then, when refreshed, her Goddess given duty would continue.

<<<<>>>

Kiraea

(https://i.ibb.co/GdryW5x/Kiraea-rg.jpg) (https://ibb.co/GdryW5x)

“Gods of Bonadan, I am Kiraea of Aethas, Daughter of the Three Goddesses,”

Her voice echoed from her helmet on the barren plain, bare from centuries of strip mining.  Planet spanning weather systems that create artificial ‘sweeper storms’ to clear the air of the pollutants in the residential areas and the vast space ports the planet was known for.

It was to places like this the refuse was hurled only to blow back a few months later.  For this reason they went fully armoured against the toxic legacy of centuries of exploitation.

“I know you are wounded and weak, but so are my People, we seek here one of our own, or at least some pointers to where they might be…and ask you help in this.”

Karintha’s remonstration had struck hard, not just because she respected her Aunt, but because it was right.  Kiraea was only just beginning to realise how much she, and all the others had missed the guidance of the older generation.

Especially now as a new generation that would only know life after the Devastation, grew within her womb.

The presence was still tiny, a gentle but steady pulse of life building stronger with each squeeze of nutrient rich blood. 

There were the first stirrings of a unique aetheric presence, still deeply enmeshed in her own of course, but every day it felt a little more unique. A few more months she knew and her child would begin subtly reaching out to her with the aether still in-utero, a thought that filled her with a warmth not of rage or anger as she had known for so many decades, but joyous and ferocious hope.

And that child deserved the best mother Kiraea could be.

Stinking acidic rain began to pepper their armour – if this was the Gods of Bonadan’s response it was ambiguous, rain was usually a blessing, but such polluted rain…though the planet hardly had anything else to offer.

Most likely it was simply coincidence. 

Nonetheless introductions had been made in the desolate wastes far from the 10 vast spaceports that served as the planets main economic, residential and commercial hubs, enormous metal hive like scars upon the surface built with flesh torn from the planets crust over millennia.

Now they had a Person to Find.

<<<<>>>>

One of Bonadans more annoying features – in addition to the innumerable number of levies and fees to be paid just to get a berth in the vast Spaceport City South East II – was the complete prohibition of weapons.

Like a swarm of Krebees weapon detectors patrolled the enclosed shielded walkways between buildings that kept the acidic glass shard filled winds at bay, and every other public space.

Far too numerous to hack or destroy even for Kiraea they simply had to go unarmed.

Of course for two Aethan Guardians unarmed meant wearing gormin leather beneath more conventional Republic robes, Blackstone daggers that appeared to the customs officials as ‘Other Mineral Jewellery’ not being made of any known material used for weapons, and Extolled Amphistaffs that curled around their arms, domesticated to obey any with an Aethan’s scent rather than bound to an individuals – these were detected merely as ‘symbiont – Other’.

<This creature is indeed strange…> Karintha noted as they headed into the main concourse of the Docking tower

<It’s lack of aetheric presence is…disconcerting,>

She hadn’t been introduced to the Extolled yet, regular outsiders were shock enough.

<You never quite get used to it…but the other outsiders have no knowledge of these devices, giving us an extra edge…>

<Where do we head from here?> Karintha asked staring again at the sheer diversity of alien beings coming and going amidst the overhead boards covered with details of commercial transports coming and going, dozens of small stalls selling items she could barely comprehend the purpose of.

<I think you should be able to figure it out, the only way to learn!> Kiraea smile back

She sensed only a momentary uncertainty before her aunts presence firmed with determination.

They had memorised the transaction details, of which was the BSSB Code – the Bank Sector System Branch identifier that pointed to Bonadan.

<Very well…>

Karintha needed little guidance apart from the occasional nudge and filling in some details via direct delving.

Using a public holonet terminal they found the specific bank branch, assessed the transit options to reach it, and then once they arrived Karintha quickly went to the top as they had on Muunilist, making the Manager of the oddly green tinged Branch of the First Bank of Bonadan South East II Branch 76 her thrall. 

The Sullustan manager was most helpful in providing the details of the owner of the account, and by the grace of the Goddesses and the assistance of the Gods of Bonadan the owners, a Lord and Lady C’Tapahn, lower mid-tier members of the Corporate Sector Plutocracy – that is having a net value somewhat under a billion credits.

And most fortunate of all the pair still resided here on Bonadan in an upper tier apartment, somewhat above what they could comfortably afford as they tried to work their way up in the Plutocracy where Credits or rather the illusion of having credits was everything.

“You want to do the talking?” Kiraea asked as the turbo lift ascended, the transparisteel behind them tinted a faint blue as it looked out to the Skyscrapers of high above the toxic industrial zones closer to the surface.

“I’ll play you for it,” Karintha held out her palm with a smile Kiraea matched quickly as the nostalgia of the children’s game filled her with memories of a better time and hopes of equally enjoyable times with her own baby.

Their hands mirrored each other a few inches distant Karintha’s below Kiraea’s above…from each fingertip blue lights sparked and fought against each other…pushing and pulling…Kiraea got her little finger, but Karintha got the centre and the index finger…Kiraea pushed hard on the thumb as Karintha took the ring finger.

But it was as always, a ploy, one she’d fallen for as a child and did again now, a triple spark flooded and retook the finger Kiraea thought she had, giving Karintha the majority of 3 digits wrapped in her energy.

“I can’t believe I fell for it again!”

“Some things never change my love,”

Behind the turbo lift lay the main entry, pressing the buzzer Karintha waited patiently, Kiraea doing her best to restrain herself from knocking the door down.

The comm finally buzzed,
“C’Taphan residence, may we be of assistance,”

“Arinkat here to meet Sir and Lady C’Taphan,” Karintha replied using a mix up of her name
“I see no appointment here…”
“Yes you do,” she pressed just enough for the twi’leki on the other side, likely a servant.
“Yes I do,”
“Let us in and summon the master and or mistress,”
“I’ll let you in and summon the master and or mistress”

As the door gilded open Karintha leaned back into the past with her mind, seeking any trace of something more interesting than a snooty bitch coming and going followed by a beaten down husband…further…further…

there…they were pushing in a young girl…she didn’t recognise her…her skin was too dark to be Aethan…further…further…there…

Alabaster skin, light brown hair, green eyes…

“Nyaea!” Kiraea said excitedly recognizing the features across their mental link

“Who the frell are you,” the uppity woman yelled from a balustrade that overlooked the entrance way

“Lady C’Taphan I assume,” Karintha stepped forward looking her fearlessly in the eye

“We are seeking answers to the presence of a kinswoman of ours, if you assist willing it will go…”

“Shove off before I call security,”

“Shut up,” Kiraea responded lifting the woman off her feet with the aether and silencing her unable to control her excitement and irritation any longer, Karintha demurred it was already abundantly clear from her aura this Lady would not assist them willingly, but she had to make the offer.

“Find out what you can, I’ll keep her entertained,”

Karintha followed the threads of old pain and sorrow down the halls.

Screams stifled behind sound proof walls that bled into the aether and grew stronger as she twisted and turned till she finally found the small, bare room and focused her gaze into the past…..

Karintha’s heart shattered once more.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 28, 2021, 10:41:02 PM
 
Chapter 25 — Shattered Hearts — Part 5

Nyaea

One day they took her out of the room, she was pushed along the hallways of the biggest house she had ever been in, everything was strange and white and golden…outside a window were the metal fingers and what looked like small birds in neat rows going past.  She was put in a big room and told to wait.  She just stared at an empty patch on the wall, all the other things in the room were too confusing to look at.

Eventually the man and woman came back with another thing, a pink thing with a big blobby head and a neat black and grey outfit.

“This is her,” the woman said,
He walked up to her and moved a box over her,
“I see…and how long have you been trying,”
“Nearly two years,”
“Interesting…and her cycles are regular,”
“Frequent and consistent,” she replied,
“Well let’s take a blood test to begin with,” he pressed a metal thing to her arms, it pinched at her and felt strange
“hmmm…now this…” he was staring at a square thing with blue light coming out of it
“This is interesting…where did you say she was from?”
“I didn’t” the woman said firmly
“Well based on this…it appears she’s not Standard strain human…not even close really,”
“I knew it, the tralks a mutant!” the woman yelled
“We’re all mutants of some ancestral species…” the pink thing mused
“Is she even compatible?” the man asked,
“Hmm potentially…it would need further work…the chances without intervention…are slim…perhaps 5%,”

“What a frelling waste!” the woman screamed, she strode over to her, then slapped her across the face

“Useless little tralk aren’t you,” Nyaaea crawled into a ball on the floor, the woman kicked her again and again

“Aren’t you, aren’t you”

“Madam…if I might interject…” the pink thing said,
“She may not be of use to you…but her genetic idiosyncrasies are of interest to me…I would be willing to offer you a good price for her,”

“Well I don’t think we…” the man began

“SHUT UP,” the woman screamed, Nyaea was just happy she wasn’t being kicked anymore
“How much are you offering,”
“How much would you like?”

“150 no less,”

She peeked out from between her knees to see the pink thing nod and its abnormal face smile,

“Agreed, I’ll even waive today’s call out fee,”

<<<<>>>>

It happened very quickly, she was put back in her cell for a while…the man came alone again,

“Oh I’m going to miss you…” he cooed as he licked all over her face…this was the longest time he used her, when they came for her later she realised why.

Once again she was taken in a flying machine, to another metal finger, by two large black things.

Through strange grey and metal colour paths to the pink thing that was waiting for her, the pink thing gave the black things something, and they gave him something then left.

“Let’s take this off shall we,” he stepped over and pressed a square thing in his hand, then the collar fell off, it felt strange not to have it on, her neck felt so sensitive.

They were in a room full of beds with strange things hovering over them, and big round containers with a liquid bubbling in them, but it felt cold not hot.

He pushed her toward one of the beds…

More of the same she realised and lifted up her gown, the pink thing helped pull it off, but then went away and did strange things to a piece of metal that glowed.

She didn’t understand why he wasn’t it using her?

The big machine thing over the bed began to whir and squeak as it moved,

She started to panic, was he going to use this machine on her body!

“No need to worry,” his hands suddenly one hand on her shoulder the other stabbed something sharp into her arm,

“Conscious specimens are so hard to study…so costly to keep…a peaceful forever sleep for you my dear…”

She felt woozier than normal, she flopped back, her eye lids drooping, once again hands moved her body against her will…something wet started to soak her back...

It was sloppy and slimy and smelled strange, her nose felt dry and open, the wet kept rising, over her body, across her chest, finally over her face…her eyes wouldn’t open…she was going to drown…she was going to dro….
<<<<>>>>

Karintha
“Finally,” Kiraea said, she was seated on a lounge across from lady C’Taphan whose eyes were frantic as her mouth moved soundlessly in panic

“Did you find….what did they do to her!”  There was no hiding Karintha’s fury in the aether even if her face was steel. 

Controlling herself as best she could she pointed Kiraea to the room – it would not be fitting or appropriate for her to simply tell the horrors.

“You need to see for yourself…”

Kiraea leapt up and sprinted past as Karintha took over the pinning of Lady C’Taphan,

She sat where Kiraea had been and leaned back, eyes drilling into C’Taphan’s face willing herself not to simply rip her mind to pieces.

It was not easy.

“I suggest…you tell me what you did with her…right now…” she lowered the barrier on her mouth,

“Frell you freak, you’re dead you hear me, dead, I’ll have every bounty hunter in the galaxy onto your arse!”

Karintha smiled thinly,

“They’ve tried before so I hear…tell me where she is before my niece gets back…she won’t be as...amicable….”

“Frell your niece I’ll ram a rifle up her arse myself,”

No one could say she didn’t try…

Lady C’Tapahn flew from her seat and smashed with a tremendous shatter through the Transparisteel wall that overlooked the city, whilst the fragments of the transparent building material swirled in the high atmosphere winds slowly downwards, the Lady remained pinned in place as Kiraea charged towards her.

“YOU’RE DEAD YOU CRAZY BITCH YOU ARE SO FRELLING DEAD” Kiraea screamed as Karintha pushed in front of her

“Get…out…of…my…way…” she seethed behind gritted teeth,

“Not yet…” Karintha said calmly guiding the Lady back into the building telekinetically.

“These two have offended grievously against the People, their deaths and suffering are not in question, only after we extract Nyaea’s location and ensure they die in a way that profits the People…”

“What the…” a new voice from the balcony overhead…
<<<<>>>>

At dusk Sir C’Taphan arrived to see his wife and daughter waiting for him expectantly, his wife appeared somewhat…frozen…his daughter had tear stained eyes,

“Cat…what’s wrong, what…”

Then he saw the two figures behind them that he swore hadn’t been there before.

“Sir C’Taphan so glad you could join us…” one said,

<<<<>>>>

It had been easy enough to mind wipe the security and maintenance staff who came about the broken window, a hover droid had rapidly put a replacement panel in.

Catryn C’Taphan was harder…but with a little effort Karintha showed the poor girl the truth about her parents…how due to her mother’s infertility and desire for a designer child they had bought slave girls, three in all Nyaea only the first, till they finally got a child out of the last one before selling her on to a buyer halfway across the corporate sector.

She already had no love for her brutal mother…and the truth set her anger free.

But perhaps what interested Karintha most was Kiraea’s reaction to the daughter, perhaps as much sympathy that she could have for an outsider given that in other circumstances she might’ve been some kind of half Aethan, though whether that was even biologically possible remained uncertain.

“Too many people have suffered at their hands…” Karintha soothed as the pair of them silently screamed as they ‘lay’ pinned to the ceiling,

“You as much as anyone Catryn, I won’t deny you vengeance for your mother should you wish to take it,”

Kiraea was only unhappy they weren’t being more strenuously tormented, but one of the few rules Karintha had to remind her, the Aethan People kept when facing an enemy was thy did not torture needlessly, every act inflicted on an enemy required tactical and strategic purpose – multination was useful to send a warning, mind control to create thralls, but pain for ones own gratification was not such a means.

At any rate Karintha didn’t want to traumatise Catryn any more than was needed.   

“Do what you like to the Schutta…” Catryn said

Oh we will…once we have what we need from her depraved mind

“But father…” she sighed  “He can’t just vanish due to his status…can you do something to…”
Karintha nodded,

“We can alter their minds,”

“Good…good…” the young woman sighed, her head in her hands

“This is a lot to take in,”

She gave Kiraea a prompt with the aether…drawing a connecting line between her and Nyaea…they were both victims…Catryn might not be Aethan…but she was still hurt all the same. 

Kiraea’s last intransigence melted away and she walked over to hug Catryn.

“It’s alright, we’ll help you…you can be our friend,” Kiraea soothed the younger woman with stroked along her dark hair,

“And we’ll be yours,”
<<<<>>>>

“Dr. Lyp’Ta…still practicing fortunately…” Karintha noted from the details on the ‘datapad’ a queer moving book device, as they left the hotel Catryn had checked into…she had no desire to stay in that apartment any more…not just for the memories…but also because in six days time a domestic violence incident was going to get out of control.

Lady C’Taphan would murder her husband then kill herself by blowing the place up while their daughter was on holiday.

Kiraea pouted in the back seat of the hover car, annoyed she didn’t get to kill them herself…if there was one consolation it was their new friend Catryn - who was happy to arrange a compensation package once she took over her father’s business interests. 

Credits didn’t interest them, but the gesture was a kind one and a friend in the Corporate Sector could be useful in the future.  It was such long term thinking that Kiraea lacked in her rages, and as Matriarch Karintha needed to foster.

“I’ll do the talking this time,” Kiraea stated nonetheless as they travelled in the small hover car, her tone making it clear there would be no argument about it.

The office was near the southern pole amongst a large hub of medical facilities and research institutes that took advantage of the cold temperatures for preserving various samples.

Amidst the glassy spires that reminded Karintha of pictures Lyaea had shown her of Csilla they went through the crisp traffic control procedure to dock and swiftly make their way to the reception…

“Welcome to…”

“Bring Lyp’Ta out here now,” Kiraea started as she intended to go on, efficient and direct.

The receptionist, swaying under the weight of Kiraea’s mind buzzed frantically summoning the Siniteen

“May I be of assistance,”

“Yes you may, we hear you have a very interesting collection of unique specimens Doctor…” Kiraea cooed…when she wanted to be she could be subtle, if not patient,

“Indeed I am quite proud of my collection but I’m afraid unless you have an appointment,”

Valens had noted briefly that of the many sentient species resistant to mind control, Siniteen was one, their vast protruding brain evidence of their intellect…but Kiraea was sure to give it a go,

“I’m sure you can take a small break to show some admirers a small selection over lunch,” her pressure in the aether was strong but subtle, working around the suspicion of the creature even if its mind was too complex to dominate directly.

Karintha felt great pride for Kiraea’s restraint and skill.

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch you names….”

<<<<>>>>

It was easy enough with a few prompts to get where they wanted to be, a brief meal at the medical hubs atrium, detailing some random facts about mitochondrial efficiency to show they were no fools and they were in.

The storage room was vast, dozens of cryo-tanks in a huge bank, picked out by unfriendly looking claws into an examination chamber as needed.

“Now this specimen was quite fascinating, mitochondrial energy is generated in four distinct ways, one resembling a form of fission…I must say it is the prize of my collection…I’ve never come across a meta-human lineage like it since.”

Locks popped and unsealed, gases hissed as the pod descended into the examination bay. 

There in bubbling liquid lay poor Nyaea…dead to the universe

“Is the specimen still alive…” Kiraea asked tone indifferent as she burnt in the aether

“Of course…I attempted to clone but couldn’t get a viable embryo or surrogate…I must admit thereafter I gave up for a few years, but returned on and off…the complexity is astonishing…” he brought up a projection of their DNA compared to a Coruscanti humans…

“You can see the obvious differences…it's quite amazing really…almost designed…unfortunately I can’t find a male sample,”

“How frustrating,”

“It is…it’s a trade off” he sighed, “one can’t damage the specimen if it’s the only one…yet one is limited in the analysis one can perform…”

“Still the insights into genetic enhancement have proved invaluable…the limitation I find is the steps…it’s difficult to chart just the course of how this meta-human has changed from the base species, the differences are so endemic, I have confirmed Human and Miraluka as two, but there appears to be a third base species I can’t identify…”

“Indeed,” Karintha noted,
“We will enjoy reading your analysis on this and the other subjects…”

She slid around behind the Siniteen,

“I’m afraid we’ll have to take this sample off your hands though,”

“Oh now that is out of the…out of the…what was I saying again…oh yes…I would be most pleased for you to borrow the sample.” she continued as Kiraea stroked the cold edge of the pod a sorrow coming over her, Kiraea placed her hand on her stomach.

<I don’t…I can’t let this happen…not to my…>

<I know my love> Karintha calmed <It won’t, I…we could not protect Nyaea, but we can now… >

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 28, 2021, 10:46:11 PM
Chapter 25 — Shattered Hearts — Part 6

 
Karintha

They wasted no time securing Nyaea and having her transported to their vessel, Kiraea with more experience dealing with outsiders handled all the affairs, Karintha continuing to keep her calm and comforted.

The desire to rain Oblivion hell upon the planet was furiously burning in her niece.  Karintha could not blame her…but this was not the time, place nor person to unleash their strength upon.

Karintha did the work of a Matriarch, overseeing the younger woman, gently guiding and supporting her to do what she already knew to be right and fitting.

And even when Nyaea was safely sealed in the back of the ship in her pod, they would not awaken her until they reached Aethas, and even then only after a substantial amount of effort to ensure she awoke to a supportive healing environment - even then they both knew a long difficult path lay ahead for the abused girl who was unlikely to ever fully recover. 

It had been arguably the easiest rescue of a lost Person thus far, certainly the least bloody - Kiraea seemed no less frustrated and impatient to get home.

“Hurry up will you…” she bit as he checked the instruments before lifting off.

The aether was palpable with her tension…her anger…

“Should’ve done something to him…”

Karintha shook her head…leaving the Siniteen to continue his research was the best course…the more insights they got into their own biology the quicker they could re-establish their own program…and in a sense by freezing her he had –unintentionally- spared Nyaea greater suffering. – Kiraea must’ve understood this…and yet.

“…at least taken his eyes…he doesn’t need those to work…”

“Perhaps you should stay in the hold with Nyaea…” the nominally older woman suggested as Kiraea boiled.

Kiraea’s mouth twisted chewing on a reply, but Karintha was ultimately the only Person whose word to Kiraea was absolute law, and she relented.

Performing the pre-flight Karintha felt a sense of control and confidence, not just in her master of the flying carriage but also the broader galactic environment and understanding of her own People and place among them.

She would return to Aethas with an aura of success, and joyful news of Kiraea’s pregnancy and at least some mollification of her more aggressive tendencies, and a new friend on Bonadan - all of which would be leveraged to firm her influence over the others and re-establish her rightful place of Matriarch. 


Sublight-engines whirred, repulsors thrummed, her heart squeezed strong.

<<<<>>>>

Children of the Shadow

They had missed her by two days on Myrkr.

They had missed her by mere hours on Vulpter.

On Ord Mirit they had to avoid the Jedi searching the Ruins of what had been Vigo Xithars palace.  So far as the Jedi knew she had died that day, the body plunging into a plasma fire never to be recovered.

For two years after they had lost any and all trace of her, completing innumerable other Acts of Closure for Sensei.

Now they had her.

The facial profile reconstructed from 1,301 amateur holo’s taken as she leapt across hover cars spewing Force Flames and Lighting at random on the Night of Madness identified her without doubt.

He lay prone silent upon a beam 233 stories above the near solid ferrocrete anchors of the skyscrapers, so still as to be mistaken for part of the structure itself.

She was likewise invisible as the target and her confederate glided the cyro tube inside the black triangular craft.

In the black spear tip shaped ship that glided coolly through the polluted skies that seemed repelled by the ultra dense hull was their Prey.

They could strike now – but planet side there were too many options, too many avenues for escape. 

Making their move whilst in the confines of a moving ship was a safer course - there was nowhere for the prey to run.

In silent agreement on the timing they began the infiltration.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 02, 2021, 06:48:16 PM
How fortuitous that Karintha shows up during these turbulent times; her mature pragmatism just might help to mitigate the younger Aethans' more...impulsive actions, not to mention to blunt the anti-Outsider sentiment that they--VERY understandably given the events of the Devastation!--have.  Yet even she recognizes that there are sometimes utterly intractable people even under the most incredible (and dire) of circumstances.  Speaking of...

Poor Nyaea: sold off to be nothing more than a brood-mare for some wealthy, sadistic CORSEC couple.  Yet, even some good comes of these events: with Kiraea and Karintha visiting the C’Tapahn's, Catryn was also liberated, proving that Mili's and Ari's sentiments that GOOD Outsiders do exist.  Hopefully with Karintha's arrival, there will be a shift from outright xenophobia to something a little more tolerant.  Of course, the fact that--once again--the Aethans have a VERY good reason to feel that way is what makes them such compelling characters: flawed victims of circumstances in an uncaring galaxy.  But this is what makes SW so inspiring IMO: despite the adversities life throws at people, there are legitimately GOOD people with GOOD intentions.

...I just hope that it will be enough...

And just WHO are the "Children of the Shadow?!"


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on March 02, 2021, 06:59:46 PM
Oh, I don't know...

Karintha comes, promises hope and mature leadership.

Karintha gets mis-identified as Kiraea and gets killed or taken...
 - or -
Kiraea gets killed or taken on Karintha's watch, "radicalizing" her in turn ... or simply undermining her influence and authority.

Yeah.   I don't think we're out of the xenophobic woods just yet...  ;-)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 02, 2021, 07:17:47 PM
Oh, I don't know...

Karintha comes, promises hope and mature leadership.

Karintha gets mis-identified as Kiraea and gets killed or taken...
 - or -
Kiraea gets killed or taken on Karintha's watch, "radicalizing" her in turn ... or simply undermining her influence and authority.
...I didn't consider that Karm; good point...

Quote
Yeah.   I don't think we're out of the xenophobic woods just yet...  ;-)
SO true  :D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 08, 2021, 09:44:59 PM
Chapter 26 — Rage and Shadow — The Past

The Twilight Murderer

24 Years Ago — Nar Shadda — Two Weeks after the Devastation of Aethas

The stench of the unworthy would not leave him for weeks – such was the price of following the daen nosi to the smugglers moon.

Yet follow it he must.

Through the throngs of customers into the slave markets he wound his way unseen, as befitted the Master of the Disciples of Twilight…or rather the last surviving Master…ahh the memories of that were still strong…Soup rich and aged…generous and delicately consumed one by one…

Such memories he had to hold as he wandered through crowds of beings who would overall cause him more pain cleaning his proboscis after consuming than pleasure in the act.

For although he went utterly unheeded by the crowds having long since perfected the arts taught to him by the woman only known as ‘Twilight’ – or at least only known as that till he fed on her Soul – he could not with his acute senses avoid heeding them.

Something had occurred in the last few weeks, something horrific yet small that set the daen nosi pulsing so strongly he was moved to leave Dyspeth for the first time in nearly a century.  Long ago Vzin Kree had sought a richer soup to imbue, something deeper and more refined than his usual meals as an Anzat for he was a connoisseur  – unlike the near feral Anzat that would consume any fool in a dark alley, Vzin saved his hunger for truly worthy prizes, the most delicious of which were force sensitives.

Seeking such a course he had found his way to Dyspeth where the woman Twilight, once a Jedi, had established an order on the dark moon, adapting to their shadowy home and protect the small group of colonists on the main planet – there they developed astounding force abilities to bend light and still air to hide themselves, more advanced than even the legendary Buried presence techniques, and on the other side devised enhanced sensory expansion techniques with which they dispensed what they called’ shadow justice’ protecting the weak by assassinating the corrupt as Twilight’s Jedi origins came through in their philosophy.

Vzin had not sought to learn any such arts, but as an Anazt with a hunger for soup immediately saw the benefits in learning – and could smell the richness of the Masters soup. 

For nearly 60 years he studied with them, became one of them, building their trust as the Disciples grew in number and strength, occasionally venturing to nearby systems to enact their justice.  He mastered their arts and became Twilights most trusted confidant, and so he was with her at the end – her body degraded her soup had never been richer, full of experience and knowledge – he told the other masters she passed quietly in the night…and that was true in a way – but not before he had suckled her rich taste to the full.

A gran almost stumbled over him so vivid was the memory in distracting him, but he quickly corrected and proceeded on into Myzms slave market where the lines of fate entwined so closely.  Inside was a crowd of beings jostling to get at the Premium products, a garish sign scrolled above – ‘Force Sensitive Humanoids Available 300,000 minimum – credit check BEFORE entry’

A thin smile played on Vzins face, these Hutts and their credits….they had no idea what was truly valuable…he slipped through unnoticed once more into the premium section past the line up the Gamorrean and Feeorin guards oblivious to his existence…for a moment he gazed at the Feeorin captain, old and gnarled but with a rich soup…he could consume him then and there whilst under the Cloak of Shadow – he had done so before…After consuming Twighlight he had eaten each of the other Masters one by one across the next days, one surprised while bathing, another asleep, a third he used the stealth abilities he had perfected to walk right up to them and feast…the Feeorin would be delicious but he needed to stay focused.

Passing through another scanner he came to a luxury buying room, gentle pink couches before transparisteel panels behind which were the remaining slaves.  Of the eight cells only two were occupied – he needed a better ship he reminded himself…he would have to obtain one…

A small group of Columi and Thustrans were speaking with a Green Twi’lek who wore the badge of Myzm the Hutt, a Major Domo no doubt for such high end transactions.

In one cell was a male blaster scars on his bruised face, hands and feet chained with electro-cuffs…Vzin noticed he was not breathing…no rather he did not need to breath as often…opening his senses more fully making full use of his infrared vision he realised this being was not actually human…indeed he had never seen such a species. 

As Vzin stared the man’s eyes flicked toward him – for a brief moment Vzin thought he had been spotted – he stared for a moment directly at Vzin as if trying to puzzle out if he had seen anything but soon turned back to his brooding.

In the next cell though…ah there was the prize….

Two toddlers of the same strange species, a male and female clasping each other.

“…Force sensitive twins are very rare…the last pair sold for 2.5 million twelve years ago,” the Major Domo explained to the prospective customers

“…obviously with inflation, and the young age, these have a significantly higher reserve price.”

The Force was strong between them, stronger than anything Vzin had ever felt…to taste that….his proboscis tickled erect at the thought…and yet they were only children now…how rich they could become if marinated into adulthood….

He had to have them, now, to prepare, a decade or two would be more than worth the wait…

“I offer you four million,” Vzin said aloud revealing himself startlingly the Twi’lek

“Oh my apologies I didn’t see you there…ah four million, flat or…”

“4.2,” a Columi replied swinging his hover sled around

Vzin had no interest in a bidding war and merely felt out the creature’s equivalent of a cerebral artery in the force and closed it.  Within a few moments its head drooped and the hover sled began eliciting warning lights.

As Vzin remained unmoved while staff attended to the dead thing he noticed the male slave staring at him.

“As I said, 4 million, up front,” it would be too difficult to steal two toddlers, and he cared nothing for credits compared to Soup.

“I will consult with the Most Majestic Myzm himself, but I’m sure he will be most happy, a beverage Serrah….”

Vzin ignored him as he felt a build up of the force from the male…strange and primitive in its taste…for a moment he thought he would try and breach his chains.

“You…” the male seethed “…Goddesses take note of his face through my eyes, and hear my plea - send Guardians to punish this wrongdoer!”

“…oh ignore him he says that to every buyer,” the Twi’lek replied indifferently leaning into his commlink.

“…yes 4 million is fine, let’s see to the details…”

As the transaction went ahead, Vzin thankful he had taken those 5 years to perfect his skills in credit-authentication counterfeiting - a humdrum necessity in a credit obsessed galaxy - the male primitive tried to reach out with the force to the two toddlers, attempting to console them as their cell was opened and a Yinchoori lifted them up one in each hand.

The transaction approved he was guided to a private exit, still the male stared at him…normally Vzin could ignore such…but something about the way he had spoken his curse, the way the Force had flowed….

Ah who cares for this primitives superstitious, I have a meal to plan.

<<<<>>>>

The Dutiful Wife

3 Years Ago – Coruscant, the Night of Madness

The trill of laughter and clinking glasses easily overcame the hum of distant hover cars that peppered the Coruscant night sky with a rainbow of lights.

“…oooh those look delicious,” Jyssyka crooned taking the last of the Argyuna sashimi rolls off the platter.

“You’ve really outdone yourself Yndra!” the slightly portly woman noted gesturing across the crowded balcony light by hovering glow droids, a table in the centre with a bar droid serving out drinks to all their guest, her husband at the far corner chatting with his colleagues.

She had gone to a lot of expense…but it was his 60th birthday, and he was worth it.  Somehow knowing her stare he glanced across the smart formal attired attendees to wink at her.  A coy smile back…even after all these years he could make her heart flutter. 

It was time for the cake she thought now all the nibbles had been well and truly guzzled.

Stepping back into their apartment’s main living area she twirled through the thinner indoor crowd, it was such a warm night everyone wanted to be on the balcony in the cool if artificially generated breezes about the megalithic skyscraper.

Into the kitchen she paid no heed to the New’s holo left on in the corner warning of an outbreak of what could only be described as ‘Madness’ across Coruscants lower levels that was now spreading. 

As she opened the refrigerator the anchor’s mouth moved in silent tones that the Galaxies Opera had been somehow set alight from within by blue flames that did not react to any standard retardants – as if they were…magic.

The hubbub of the party turned to brief gasps as she paused on the edge of the balcony the cake in her hands.  Three tiered white with delicate but still somehow masculine filigrees in as full of decadent Koya Nut fudge- her Husband’s favourite.

As he stood on the balcony and smiled across at her.

A blue torrent of flame slammed into him from behind as two speeders carrying two Goddesses locked in combat, one utterly indifferent to the collateral damage she caused with her blazing temper when it missed her ‘confused little sister’, sped past.

In a moment that lasted an aching year she saw her husband’s flesh vanish in the conflagration, a black skeletons crumpling into ash beside those of his friends as the cake dropped from her hands – icing flash boiling as the heat slammed her into the inner wall far behind her.

<<<<>>>

The Night of Madness they called it – beings of all types, known pacifists, Monks, rich and poor alike sent into mad frenzies as the under levels erupted in riot, then the crowning achievement of the very tip of the Jedi Temple, the Council Chambers itself, being blasted apart by lighting as if from two furious Gods embroiled in a war so fierce they had accidently slammed each other into the Middle Realm.

Yndra didn’t pay much heed to any of it.  She was numb, her body going through motions of reporting what little she had seen to the CSF.  Like so many others her husband’s cause of death was simply allocated to ‘Terrorist Activity’. 

Her sister came from Lexrul to comfort her, help arrange things after…

But for Yndra there was no after.  With her Husband gone, she was gone.  Without him…they had planned to – they had planned…so much that no longer mattered.

She helped settle his business affairs.  He was a relatively wealthy man, in the end the Estate was worth nearly 2 billion credits.  Yndra watched as the stock and bonds, shares and credit slips were turned to numbers in a single account, pixels on a datapad that could never be arranged in a way that mattered.

She watched the holonews reports from that night she had ignored in the kitchen over and over as she sat sleepless in the bed they once shared, the balcony locked off by construction fencing as it was repaired.

Exactly when she didn’t know, it didn’t especially matter, but at some point shortly after she knew what she had to do.

Yndra was not a fighter, not a soldier or Jedi, she was 59 and whilst she had a Pilates toned figure she could never hope to do what needed to be done.

What she did have was credits. 

2 billion of them.

It took nearly 40 million, dealing with beings who she thought only existed in holo films, going to places she never imagined existed on Coruscant to find them and verify it was them.  Others might’ve seen the poverty and decided to turn all that money her husband had left into a bequest, establish a school or scholarship program. 

Not Yndra, once her mind was made up it was made up.

That 40 eventually led her to the…shadow…she needed – to them she gave the rest of the 2 billion, payment for a very simple task – to find the being who had incinerated her husband and kill them.

That was what a dutiful wife would do, that was what Yndra did.

With a silent nod the Shadow had slipped back away…the reputation of the Twilight Assassins was without equal - they never left a job unfinished – in her search she’d heard they had once taken 10 years to fulfil a contract – other bounty hunters would give up after a few months, but not the Twilight Assassin’s, they were patient and true to their word.

With her last few credits she took an air-taxi to her apartment…but it was not hers anymore, the sale would go through any day now. 

Hacking through the construction barrier she stepped gracefully across the threshold that had once led to a balcony and stepping off the edge joined her husband.

<<<<>>>>


Children of the Shadow

(https://i.ibb.co/cXfb6Fm/EvyEva.png) (https://ibb.co/cXfb6Fm)

3 Years Ago – Coruscant — 6 Months After The Night of Madness

<Unusual….> He noted arms folded after rechecking the transaction had gone through.

There in Sensei’s account was just under 2 billion credits – the difference being the banks transaction fee for such a large amount.

His sister crouched on the balcony wall on a rooftop opposite, Chamelo-synth-skin making her blend seamlessly into the building by projecting the electromagnetic radiation across all spectrum – not just Sentient Standard visual – of what she would otherwise displace.

<A waste…> she replied across their twin bond telepathy, as Sensei taught it was deeper and more surveillance

<Such despair and grief mingled with determination and longing…she would’ve been delicious for Sensei>

He nodded in agreement, it was a shame only now did he sense that depth of Soup fully, his senses were good but not quite as refined as his sisters when it came to seeking out good meals for Sensei. 

Sensei was not like them, he was what was called by the galaxy, derisively, an Anzat, and he needed to feed on beings with rich soup of many flavours to survive. Sensei had saved he and his sister from the horrible beasts after they were taken from the village, fed them, clothed them, taught them all he had learned over his his eight centuries of life.

It was right and fitting that now as adults they should provide for Sensei’s needs, through finding beings with rich soup, and obtaining credits by following the Twilight Path Sensei had taught them since they were toddlers. 

Typically they achieved both at once – a being would request another’s death – they would find the target, bring them to Sensei to feed on if adequate – oft times the best Soup came from the bodyguards, partners or loved ones of the target or client.

Evyn recalled one senator they were tasked with killing, specifically by choking him on his decorative headpiece, he did so easily, ramming the jewel encrusted thing down the Senators three throats as its harem of aquatic creatures screamed, one among them though stood still as the statues in the halls of Dsypeth, having been used by so many beings over the decades it felt great pleasure at seeing the Senator die – this one they grabbed and took to Sensei. 

It was he said a delectable combination of fortitude and stoicism with a rich base of childhood trauma.

<This one that caused this so called Night of Madness…> his sister cut in as the woman’s body bounced off the side of the skyscraper with bone mulching terminal velocity.

<…must wield the Force with great strength, clarity and rage…> she stood invisibly and leapt across the 500 metre gap beside him.

<She will be delicious for Sensei>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 08, 2021, 09:54:02 PM
Chapter 26 — Rage and Shadow — The Present
Surprise and Shattering

Amidst the clean blues and greys of the central maintenance corridor of the Aethenaea Karintha sat quietly checking the plasma flow rates and vacuum seals on the high end Chiss Crystalline circuitry, typical maintenance work to pass the time before they brought Nyaea home, but still somewhat of a novelty to her as she learnt more about the galaxies technology.

It was only an instant before it struck she sensed it.

Swinging upward she knocked the thrusting limb down across her keeping herself closed, quickly knocking back the expected second blow trying to open her opponent up for a counter attack.

The third strike flowed effortlessly, precisely catching Karintha slightly off guard, a blade of some kind slicing through her light black outfit – fortunately for her ‘casual’ was treated Gormin hide tougher than many metals and far more flexible.

She was still yet to see the attacker in any sense – neither sound, nor mass in her vestibular senses, heat in her thermal senses beneath her eyebrows, nor electromagnetic radiation across broad light spectrum eyes, not even the aether offered a hint at their presence – it was deep seated instinct that managed to sense a threat was there at all.

To be taken by surprise was shameful - in the centre of one of their own ship - unforgivable.

Whatever ability this assailant possessed to remain so hidden – she had to learn, undermine, perfect then improve.

First she had to survive.

<<<<>>>>

She was uncertain where to put Nyaea. 

The cargo hold seemed ill fitting for a Person, but the power connections were closer. 

The Nature Deck was her final choice – an entire level of the Destroyer filled with boxed plants and small animals and insects to create a micro environment replicating their home world – it provided not only food with berry and fruit trees but also an important source of psychological calm.

The pod was propped against the central Kyala Tree, Kiraea sat mostly undressed beside watching over the poor sleeping girl.

Idly Kiraea's hand wandered to her own stomach, a jolt of fear that what had happened to Nyaea could one day happen to her child if…

Not if…NOW

In slow motion she spun to the side as a crimson bolt slammed into the trunk of the tree through where her head had just been, her neck suffering whiplash form speed of her subconscious dodge.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/2ny9335/KarY-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/2ny9335)
More blows followed with a grace that was as irritating as it was elegant, her arms moved in a finessed motion to counter each, diverting the blows that were wielding some kind of sharpened object no doubt, but never allowing her to fully gain an advantage.

Dodging another sharp object which struck the wall, Karithna’s genetically superior eyes noted the pin prick indentation and miniscule drop of fluid- some kind of poison…Aethan biology was more than capable of ignoring the majority of poisons designed for humanoids, and inoculation to Yuuzhan Vong diseases had enhanced their immune system even further, but the risk was still too high.

Swinging round out of another blow she leapt onto the wall, superior balance effortlessly allowing her to stay parallel to the floor.

The attack did not let up, nor did her analysis upward motion in the air confirmed her enemy was humanoid, there was a slight uptick in temperature not from the attacker but the air it was exerting more effort as the battle progressed.

Surprise and Shock were now Karintha’s as she pulled deeply on the aether then pushed it out into a Null field.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/hWLfdNq/Eva-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/hWLfdNq)
Evaea did not let the sudden loss of the Force stint her attack, but it meant the hair thin poison needles she was telekinetically directing to her preys exposed skin now sailed on their current vectors unadjusted, the micro-glass filled weapons with a cocktail of anaesthetizing proteins and viruses she cultivated herself soon slowed and dropped the still air too dense for the nanite thin weapons to plough through without the Force.

A fury and aggression she had rarely seen now assailed her.

Without the Force her Cloak of Shadow was broken, but even so all her prey would ‘see’ were absences as her Chamelo-synth-skin remained active, suppressing all light, sounds and thermal energy from escaping.

Unfortunately her opponent seemed to have senses as acute as her own and her brothers and was able to target her.

Evaea spun lithely through the barrage of fists, elbows and shins still managing to draw her Phase-Dagger and Needle Pistol. 

It had been nearly six years since she had last needed to resort to such ‘crude’ means by failing in her first strike.  It had taken much effort to prove herself to Sensei after that failure.

Lithe as the wind she slashed at the unarmed prey with the blade and fired carefully time shots with the needle pistol, one energised syringe like barbs breaking through through the tough leather the prey wore.

They had so little time to observe these two targets – the vids from the Night of Madness were of little use, usually she would spend a month or more, but they had to take the chance on this rare target when they could.

Sensei honoured his obligation to the client who had paid billions for the woman’s death, it was not a matter of needing funds but maintaining a reputation.

The poison in the needle dart seemed to have no immediate effect, and Evaea was well aware open combat was not her strong suit, Sensei had spent year teaching them to avoid the necessity of it.

The longer this battle went the greater her disadvantages would be.  She hoped her brother was faring better against the true target.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/dM4c7Zk/K-fight.jpg) (https://ibb.co/dM4c7Zk)
The world turned white and loud as sensory overload grenades ripped through the nature deck. 

Kiraea swam in a sea of blinding sensation to avoid the blizzard of weapons she knew were being sent in her direction. 

The scent of burning wood signalled the end of the initial flares of overload weapons as her feet found purchase on the moist potted soils guided only by the aether to her attacker as all other senses registered nought.

Images began to resolve, visual and thermal in her mind just before she felt the breeze of displaced air against her neck slicing the thin hairs whose severance sent tingle of distress through her body.

Without thought or pause she shunted herself to the side, the drain on her aetheric reserve was intense, teleportation not her forte but gave her the space to assess the situation.

Somehow – SOMEHOW! Some Thing had out stealthed her! Her! How it was possible she would wrench very violently from her enemy.

Drawing back some energy from the plants and animals around her she tensed her body and covered her barely clothed form in kinetic and strengthening enchantments for protection before lighting herself fully in blazing blue aetheric flame.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/wpmKV7W/Evy-4.jpg) (https://ibb.co/wpmKV7W)
As his sister had just realised these prey were incredibly alert and possessed a far greater range of Force abilities than they had anticipated.

Evyn's Micro Glass needles flying from his synth suit melted ineffectually against her incredible shield of living Force fire.  Sensei had taught them Force lighting, primarily on how to avoid it being used to expose a stealthy approach by flooding an area - but he had never witnessed such as this.

Adapting to the prey as the predator Sensei had trained him to be he probed the flame shield with rocks and fallen trees in the atrium where a cryo pod of some kind sat out of place.

She was beginning to get a fix on his position, how he could not imagine, even as she dodged his repeated shots from the Terminus Rifle, the compressed microwave spikes doing extraordinary damage to everything except the target herself.

He kept moving avoiding the solar flare like waves that cascaded with unconcealed aggression from her hands, the pattern of her face in those instants unmistakably that of the target in the grainy holovids of the Night of Madness.

A running battle across the atrium exploded as she tried to ‘burn’ him out into visibility as he kept his distance until her flame shield wore out – it had to be draining her Force energy at a rapid pace

<<<<>>>>

Karintha's skin stretched taught as white blood cells filled where the needle pistol had struck on her ribs through her clothing, the bulbous sensation irritating as she struck hard and fast trying to land a blow against the wind while she had the advantage.

Maintaining the null field was beginning to drain her, her opponent was astoundingly as fast as she was without the aether – limiting the range of possible species of her attacker based on what Kiraea had told her to four.

Her arms now bore a half dozen thin cuts from a blade sharp as Bloodstone, Karintha’s lack of armour and weaponry would begin to tell soon, she only hoped her enemy had expended all their poison weapons in the first assaults.

Down the long corridor they engaged in a ballet of fencing, feints and force – missed strikes dented the walls, those that connected were only glancing at best.

The attacker’s advantage in stealth was lost without the aether, but Karintha could not keep that suppression up, she was puffing and burning as it was, if she was to win it had to be now.

Relying on raw strength and speed Karintha took her chance.

<<<<>>>>

She was on the edge – of speed, strength and skill when suddenly her prey…or rather now her predator…doubled her ferocity.

The intensity was beyond anything Evaea had faced, even sparring with Sensei, his words ‘ Failure is Fatal’ never seemed real till now.

She tried to keep low, but ended up scurrying backward as the blows began to strike true, weightier than Evyn’s and considering her synth suits disruption of visual and thermal positioning very accurately targeted to her joints.

Without the Force to enable the Cloak of Shadow she would be beaten…she suspected the null zone was limited but every attempt to break away was stymied – on the walls and ceilings she tried to break out but her predator would not allow her to escape, Evaea’s acrobatic avoidance finally meeting its match.

Keeping her distance as best she could she waited desperately for either the null field to end or her brother to re-join her.

<<<<>>>>

Kiraea was narrowing on the annoying intruder. 

Their ability to cloak themselves was impressive…too impressive…but she had form against unique methods of concealment with the Extolled’s Cloaks of Nuun – the best way to force them out was to corner them then overload with aetheric energy to pick out their absence.

As she hurled torrent of energy in every smaller arcs the shots from some kind of advances rifle came from an ever narrower range of possible locations.

The nature deck would be a wreck, trees had been sheared in half, others burnt with aetheric fire, but they would recover quickly as mosses and fungi ate up just as much of her excess energy.

Even so it was rapidly draining her to both trap the attacker and avoid attacks while keeping her flame shield active.  Peripheral senses she detected a moving null sphere below her, Karintha no doubt facing her own attacker.  They really needed to take them two onto one it seemed, Kiraea regretted for an instant not taking any Extolled with her on this trip, they would’ve made useful distractions.

She advanced toward the ever smaller gap behind the main garden beds and the now blackened wall where the doonium bubbled on either side of a body shaped gap she hurled up blockades of kinetic energy to prevent escape.

Her crushing and burning vice was closing.

<<<<>>>>

Being cornered himself was an insignificant worry compared to the sudden complete loss of any sense of his sister in the Force.

Her death or injury he would’ve felt…but this emptiness…it moved in shuddering advances beneath him, and she was in it…

No he could not be distracted, the Prey came first Sensei taught, even above each other.

The net of fire and kinetite was closing as fast as his options were dwindling, even the Cloak of Shadow could not keep you from being boxed in by walls.

He had to gamble it all on the unexpected.

Casting off the Cloak of Shadow like a second skin he hurled all this Force energy into a frontal shield and charged into the inferno with a leap, Needle pistol firing at the prey’s head.

Her redirection of the Force attacks was instantaneous, flames and telekinetic grips tore his pistol from his hand, others slashed at his now uncloaked form as he landed an arms length from her.

A kick charged by the Force to be hard as durasteel near knocked him off his feet – at least as strong as Sensei and followed by a combination of knee and elbow strikes timed perfectly between beats of Force fire and hammering mental strikes he could barely avoid.

She had the edge over him in an open fight and was about to win, his synth skin tore, his arms bruised, his strikes with his Phase dagger always wide…until the instant as he ducked beneath another vicious kick he pulled the Cloak of Shadow around him once more.

The speed with which he and his sister could enter and exit the Cloak was astounding even to Sensei who required nearly a minute to Cloak himself ‘Perfectly’.

Disorientation triggered in the Prey momentarily…
It was all he needed. 

He rose from his crouch both hands driving his Phase dagger at her – the weapon that tripped between Baryonic and Dark Matter just sneaking under her arms rapidly moving to block.

The blade slipped through her wafer thin clothing - pierced the hyperkeratin skin, meeting resistance only with the bone plating over her abdomen…that she had bone there at all was something Evyn knew only of in one species of humanoid…

His own.

The thought was wasted as he pushed the blade in further, dark black blood congealing quickly around the wound.

<<<<>>>>

People could not feel pain in the sense of other beings…but the shock…

Kiraea stood motionless as the blade pulled out and her attacker rose through with a graceful twirl to strike at her sternum.

It was not that she had been hurt that was so shocking it was where…it was the Who Else

A life barely begun, a tiny flicker of nascent energy that she had cradled in her own aetheric presence these last few months vanished in less than a second.

She could not consciously react as the reality of the loss struck her harder than any blow the assassin could deliver.

She avoided the second stab only by crumpled to her knees, the mistimed thrust cutting a shallow groove up her right breast and across her face.

<<<<>>>>

She could hold it no longer – pressing from all side she had to let the aether flow back in.

Almost immediately Karintha wished she hadn’t…yet would’ve given her all to have done so earlier.

The aether exploded into her heart with grief and shock.

Her Niece, the little girl who always lost her shoes, who pestered her incessantly for more Kremin honey bled out the life that had been growing with her and was stone still before another assassin that sought to do worse than kill her.

The cold fury of Aehprodaea’s Grace overcame Karintha in that very instant.  If Her own attacker had thought the Null field would drain her…the hormonal and aetheric overdrive her body now easily compensated.

<<<<>>>>

Evaea was backed to the end of the hall as something horrific possessed what was now without doubt her predator.

It reminded her all too much of Sensei just before he fed…a cold empty Need that held no reason or purpose beyond its own fulfilment…such a state was now directed at destroying Evaea herself.

The blows came faster and harder than ever, her blocks ineffectual, usually her bones were strong enough to resist any damage…but these attacks were from arms with muscle density as great as her own.

<EVYN>

<<<<>>>>

Evyn stopped still as the prey as the injector on his gauntlet dripping with the anaesthetic cocktail to allow him to deliver her to Sensei alive for feeding.

The Prey before him they had struggled more than any other to locate, that would deliver a meal Sensei would wax lyrical for years about, as well as fulfilling a long standing billion credit contract…

He abandoned to help his sister.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/pJY7qPc/Kar-8.jpg) (https://ibb.co/pJY7qPc)

Like Aertemisaea herself she intended to tear the assassins apart.  Her nails dug into the synth skin ripping it loose.

The creature beneath her struggled and slashed with the weapons on her gauntlets – some hit but Karintha could feel none of it beyond registering the inconvenience of a more limited range of moment and loss of a few millilitres of blood that could otherwise fuel her annihilation.

Even so the resistance was effective enough to last half a minute, Karintha gnashed biting at the slick synth skin over the face tearing a chunk with her teeth.

Sweat of her distressed enemy filled her nose…

But it offered no consolation as it should.

This was a scent familiar…known…

Her cold calculating mind pieced together an accumulation of battle evidence…the speed and strength without the aether, they way it was drawn on when they did have it…the range of acrobatic motion and joint flexibility…now these trace of hormones gushing from beneath what had been a sealed suit…

Perhaps the only means of stopping her savage assault was stumbled upon in time to save Evaea’s life.

“Aethan…” Karintha whispered barely and instant before she was rammed to the ground by Evyn’s charge.

<<<<>>>>

Her brother pounded four shots into the woman’s back, both knowing they would be ineffectual as he reached to take Evaea’s hand.

Almost as soon as she was on her feet so too was the Predator.

There was something in her eyes, recognition, disbelief, Joy mingled with the hatred.

They had no time to investigate it further as they implemented their emergency retreat, on the near shattered HUD she activated the magma-mine-drones that followed their position on the ship to breach the hull behind them.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 08, 2021, 09:55:56 PM
Chapter 26 — Rage and Shadow — The Present

Crystal as her mind in this state was, it struggled between competing priorities of helping her niece, destroying her attackers and…reuniting with these lost People…

Quickest resolution was to knock these two unconscious then help her niece, who though injured was at least stable.

It was an open question of if she could.

Bubbling orange seared through the hull behind the two young Aethan’s as she rushed at them.

Together they were far better able to resist her – blocking Karintha’s blows for each other as their exit was opened up in the hull behind them.

They shouldn’t be able to match her - individually or together - she could tell from the trace scents they were only young adults….Karintha was reminded all too keenly that she was still not fully recovered from her resurrection.

The aether was rent back and forth as she sought to suppress their will, but her own fatigue was showing as the air began to hiss out of the growing breach.

Sudden and explosive decompression sent the two flying out and Karintha stumbling in an unpredictable instant as a section of the hull gave way.

The pair flung back out of reach fully, a curse on her lips Karintha swung her arm wildly, previous cuts spraying blood into fast droplets that covered them as they escaped into the hyperspace blue lit void and beyond her grasp.

All her other goals were now superseded by the need to survive herself.- she hurled herself back toward the turbo lift in the middle of the access corridor with the aether as she saw heated gap cool in the void and emergency airlocks seal behind her.

<<<<>>>>

 
The Twins

Mag locks failed against the ultradense material of the hull, grav-grapples kept them moving along the sleek underside, the turrets glowing but fortunately powered down as the ship danced through the swirling blue of hyperspace.

Their ship Midnight Sun was just ahead GraveTide locked to the hull. A modified Star Courier equipped with a micro solar ionization reactor to power the stygium crystal based cloaking devices in the long front of the ship it was a vessel designed to complement their Stealth training in every respect, sleek, minimalist and utterly silent.

They paused briefly even as their limbs whined in pain with each forceful step forward.

As always the Twins minds one assessing their options – yet finding no choice palatable.  To attack again in their fatigued state was as unthinkable as returning to Sensei empty handed, they may never have another chance.

Evyn briefly turned to his sister taking her arm, he had already thrown away a chance to fulfil the contract to save her once today, a second time was no greater sin.

Battered and bloodied they hauled themselves into their ships tiny compartment- tracers were already in place during their infiltration – and fled back home.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 09, 2021, 06:21:01 PM
Wow when you answer a question, LSG... ;)

LOVE the details, especially with Vzin's Anzati heritage and how he trained/indoctrinated the Twins to do his bidding while getting rich and (more importantly) fed with prime Soup!  I always equated Anzati culture to Feudal Japan's and his role as Sensei dovetails appropriately with that parallel.  In the Twins, he has the perfect assassins, strong, skilled, and (worst of all) patient.  I hope that we get to see more of Vzin (too interesting character to waste IMO   :)).

And here is a PRIME example of just HOW events WILL have at least one ramification that one does not account for: poor Yndra, being in the wrong place at the wrong time during the Night of Madness (of course it could be argued that being anywhere on Coruscant during Kimar's reign as Grand Master would qualify).  Even her revenge/justice brings her no catharsis; as she quickly joins her husband, she becomes yet another statistical casualty as a result of said Madness.  Which is precisely why this narrative is so powerful: as with Real Life, there is MUCH more to the Galaxy than just Forceusers, soldiers, and politicians.

I wonder how Karithna will reconcile her emotions concerning the Twins: does she celebrate finding and (hopefully for her) bringing two more Aethans back into the fold OR does she eliminate a threat that has already caused horrible damage to her People?

Last thought: great job with Kiraea's character development here; the loss of her's and Jarys' child is an unspeakable tragedy, one in which she becomes VERY relatable, sympathetic even.  And she still has to tell Jarys about what has occurred...


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on March 09, 2021, 10:53:07 PM
LSG, that was powerful.  I can only echo Dutchman's point.   Nicely done and great storytelling.  My heart cries for Kiraea and Jarys.  I feel the pain and indecision of Karithna as she is faced with a nearly irreconcilable decision. 

Just ... wow.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 14, 2021, 10:06:46 PM
Chapter 27 — Rage and Shadow — By Scent of Blood — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/cY9CqSy/RotA-RaS.png) (https://ibb.co/dmvLZwf)
Karintha

She did not need to ask, nor hear the words.

Karintha had known, they had both failed to protect Kiraea’s budding child.

Kiraea lay against Nyaea’s mercifully intact pod covered in dark black blood that had already coalesced into glistening streaks along the wounds that marred her fae, breast and abdomen – instinctive healing Rites and Spells occupied three of her conscious levels. 

Karintha was no less drained, a number of serious cuts concealed by tattered clothing, still poured energy into her niece whose eyes were now vacant as her womb.

At her hip two blackstone, and one bloodstone, orbs throbbed with distress and worry that had been sensed by their kin. 

In her sixth conscious level as she returned to normal metabolism from the state of Aephordaea’s grace Karintha worried that the orb to Yorna was silent.

How can Yorna not have sensed her sisters pain unless she is cut off….

That was a distress to be investigated another time.

For now she simply sat and stroke the blood matted hair of her niece, sword and rifle taken from the armoury on her way up at hand, while they waited for the ship to return to real space.

<<<<>>>>

Vzin Kree
(https://i.ibb.co/s23qWXW/Anaz.png) (https://ibb.co/s23qWXW)
He did not need to ask, nor hear the words.

Vzin had known since the moment it happened they had failed to fulfil the contract, and more importantly obtain the prey for him to feast upon.

Even still they came before him, their feet not disturbing the dust on the aged tiles, the large chamber designed with curved columns to amplify any sound remained silent as death as they moved.

Such was the entirety of the Fortress Monastery on Dyspeth that the Disciples of Twilight had once occupied until he feasted on their soup one by one – any motion, light or sound would becoming painfully obvious forcing every novitiate and master to utilize and perfect the Cloak of Shadow techniques to suppress all such means of ascertaining their presence.

Vzin had taken nearly 10 years to avoid the screeching flares of detection.  His two charges had taken less than 5 from the time he brought them here, and while they had not fully mastered it yet, they were painfully close…deliciously close

Even as the sister and brother knelt in contrition and silence before him he could feel their soup bitter with accents of defeat and shame.  It was sharp for it was fresh, but it would soon settle in making them ever more flavoursome when the time came.

One day – soon - he would feed on these two he had been preparing for nearly twenty years – theirs would be a Soup rich with experience of bloodletting and hunting, a meaty taste with sweetness of their twin bond. 

His proboscis tingled at the thought of his long marinating meal, it would have to be very soon, they were growing more in strength and ability, and though he knew the first would not resist such was their trust in him, the second might, he could not risk them surpassing him…

Yet there was the tension, the longer they lived the more delicious they would be, yet also the more difficult it might be to have them willingly submit.

“You failed,” he stated returning to the present, his breathing still as possible, metabolism cold as the stone about him deep in the Cloak of Shadow.

“You were seen,” he went on with an ice tone as they remained with heads bowed

“You were heard, you had to engage in combat,”

The last was the ultimate sign of failure, a true hunter struck once undetected – either fatally or to completely disable – any other outcome was failure, but in particular to have to engage in combat was disgraceful as every blow and every moment revealed more and more of the hunter to the prey.

“I am ashamed,”

Evyn felt a momentary need to respond, that the prey had been far more capable than they anticipated, but he held back, failure was always your own, it was incumbent on him to adapt to the situation and prey, not let it defeat him.

“You dare even think of excusing your shame!” Vzin snapped the words bouncing off the arched columns, incensed at the loudness and self-pity of the young man’s thoughts. 

Vzin’s true anger though was for the fact Evyn had chosen to save his sister rather than fulfil the contract – it spoke to a protectiveness that could…complicate…things when the time to feed on them came.

“No Sensei!” Evaea intervened the quickly healing bruises on her face just visible.

“Our failure is our own, we will correct it immediately,”

“You will not,” Vzin countered irritated at her defence of her brother, again he knew when the time came he would feed on her first as she was most likely to take violent offence to his feeding on her brother.

“Not only did you fail to fulfil the contract, but also denied me a meal, and I hunger,”

Swift motion in the pitch dark placed three tracer pucks before them without noise upon the ground

“We have these three contracts, you will redeem yourself by completing them all within 72 hours, the first two to be executed, the Nautolon you will bring to me to feed upon and whatever other specimens that have a rich taste you encounter,”

It was not much consolation, Nautolon Soup was often watery like their preferred habitat and the brine cleansing enzymes could leave a nasty aftertaste, but this target was a particularly interesting sex offender hopping between worlds and would likely have a soup with a delectable tang of anxiety and musk of perversity to savour.

Evaea brushed her hands over the pucks noting the last known locations…72 hours was very tight, hyperspace travel alone would be 60 hours assuming no detours or course corrections….

But she was determined to make up for her failure and ensure Sensei was fed.

She took up the pucks and left just as silently.

<<<<>>>>

Jarys

The wet of tears went through his hand woven shirt to his chest as he pressed Kiraea’s head as firmly to him as he could.

She was trembling in grief and pain as he stared vacantly into the distance, his own heart squeezing with the burning flushes of utter rage.

Milaea stepped gingerly toward him, his daughter the only one whom he was more protective of than Kiraea, making her the only one able to approach while in such a state.

She tenderly lay her hands on Kiraea’s back gently lifting her off

“Come, we’ll head straight to the caverns.”

That will be best he thought absently, a cold shiver running through his body as he noted with ice precision the shutdown of certain emotional centres in his brain as he entered a completely detached conscious state.

Kiraea gave him one final squeeze before falling into Milaea’s arms, Sofa not far behind.

They had come out of Hyperspace three jumps from Aethas where Selaena, along with Xanaea, Melron, Maeson and Jenaea had rendezvoused immediately having swiftly left on the Aephrodaea to meet them.

Out of the corner of his eye he noted little Xanaea, the young girl distressed already by the outflowing of grief about her, now tearing again as the men unloaded the pod containing Nyaea into the spacious hangar filled with grief and shock .

The Goddesses and the women would comfort Kiraea now as was fitting.

His duty was to avenge her pain.

Fist clenching he felt another cold wave as hormones rush through his blood stream solidifying a state of complete and utter focus, a state he had not felt since his fight against Lucovis and the Jedi – the product of their genetic engineering that let him keep the pure determination such trauma provided but switched off wasteful emotional excesses.

“Can we find them,” His words were clear as glass

Karintha could clearly see the state Jarys was in, she had been so recently in it herself, only her unrecovered state prevented its continuation.

“I have their sense in the Aether, and before they escaped I sprayed them with my blood…with a blood trace and the Obelisk array….”

Jarys nodded as the last waves settled to leave him in a perfect state of detached rage, keenly aware Xanaea was now staring at him in wonder of the strange mix of emotional high and strategic clarity. 

Karintha could help in tracking them, but she was too injured and at too early a stage of her larger recovery to be involved in the pursuit…and it was his Goddesses given role to avenge…not just his wife but…

It was too soon for that thought.

“Whoever has done this…manipulated two of our People into this sacrilege…”

His fists sparked with pure aetheric energy a signifier of a binding oath to the Goddesses themselves.

“…I will be the one to punish them”   

<<<<>>>>

Vzin Kree

Ever silent, ever suppressed he stepped through the echoing vast halls where even the collision of two mites of dust caused waves of sound to pulse. 

Through corridors once walked by the other Disciples of Twilight opening the always hidden doorways in utter darkness to the small equipment room where the Twins shattered Chameo-synth suits lay on the workbench.

They were extraordinarily expensive and were now damaged beyond repair, they had spares of course, but still the necessity of having to interact with the mundane world of credits and commerce added spice to the irritation of his hunger.

Hand hovering over the breached synth-skin he drew in a silent breath filtering out the sweat and blood of his own ‘children’ to take in the trace scents picked up from their engagement.

Unusual plastics, noble gases, Neon and Xenon that he could recognise…and then more of the Twin’s blood…no not the twins…

<FOOLS!> he seethed as he smelt the blood of their enemy upon the nanite fibres, the excitation of the Force in the dying cells.

Quickly drawing a Volkite pistol from the weapons rack - unused for years - he blasted the syth skin. The Deflagrating weapon projected a beam of thermal energy that ignited the stealth armour and thermodynamically combusted the workbench itself utterly destroying the blood that could be used to trace them.

The Twins had been in too much of a rush to return and not taken the proper precautions, Vzin Kree was well aware how potent a Force Blood trace could be.

But the memory of the blood scents lingered for its familiarity…it had been similar to the Twins…too similar…

<Can there still be others of their kind…>  his mind fell back twenty and more years to when he had bought them, the raving adult of their kind, a species of metahuman he had never encountered again not in the years since found any mention or information on.

The thought excited him.

If the woman responsible for the Night of Madness he had been contracted to eliminate was one of them….

Oh the delicious potential!

And yet…if these beings had the ability to lock a blood trail with their own sanguine fluids, they could undoubtedly track the Twins with their blood if left in sufficient quantity.

Vzin considered his options, already these opponents had matched the Twins once, an impressive effort he could not deny…whether they would pursue them was a question he could not answer.

Before the smoking ruin of the workbench he decided to watch and wait, a thin smirk on his face to adopt so…Anzati an approach. 

The twins could handle themselves, and if pursued by their co-species warriors even to Dyspeth well…

That just delivered even more delicious soup to him.

<<<<>>>>

Jarys

Everyone seemed to know well enough to stay clear of him as he strode eyes fixed ahead toward the armoury across the vast hangar.

Kiraea was soon vanished into the turbo lift with Sofa, Ari and Kassyndra, Selaena and Xanaea moving Nyaea’s pod to the Medical level via the service lift, Maeson and Melron recruiting Taryn’s knowledge of dirty tricks to look for any tracking devices on the Aethenaea while Adaea and Lydan assessed the breach damage.

These were important tasks, but as they performed them each eyed him from a distance wondering what he would do, tense in expectation that he would explode in rage.

He would.  When he finally stopped, when he finally thought on All that had just been lost…

Goddesses knew he would.

But not yet.

Now he moved with cold control into the armoury, hurled off his clothes and summoned the Mark 1 Oblivion Armour body glove to him, knowing he would not remove it until….

“Until what?” the quiet question was met with only silence as he slid into the form fitting dura-plas.

Behind him Milaea stood at the door, her face blank.  She ought to be with the other women.

“I won’t stop you,” she quickly explained as if he could ever be angry at his only child….

Not yet…he reminded himself before that thought grew.

Though he would always be more akin to an older sibling given the forced separation from her till already a young adult. Another coal that set the ice flames burning.

“This has to be…” she did not say ‘avenged’ or ‘punished’, words antithetical to her personality.

“…dealt with…but carefully, if these two are People then,”

Again she paused as the heavy blackstone plates locked hermetic seals with small hisses

“I just need to know you won’t hold them responsible and…”

He didn’t pause as the gauntlets clicked on, thin red lines indicating power from the pack on his back was reaching them.

Jarys could offer no promises.

Only the certainty of a cold inferno as his sword, infused with Kiraea’s flame and shatter point enchantments locked onto his back.

<<<<>>>>

Karintha

Her jaw clenched painfully in frustration.

“They’ve destroyed it…” she seethed in the crackling blue of the Obelisk array the vast towers of blackstone offering no consolation to her frustration.

“It’s alright…” Aresaea soothed from the control room

“We still have their blood and the tracking devices Maeson and Taryn found on the Aethenaea…”

She was right, a little psychometry and blood tracing and she would soon…

“I’ll do it,”

The entire room seemed to shake with the unnervingly and unusually deep tone she barely recognised as Jarys voice.

He was clad in full armour, sword and Hades Rifle crossed on his back, two Hades MASER Pistols on his hip, a Blackstone dagger on each thigh in tough Gormin leather sheaths imprinted with etchings of Aertemisaea, Kiraea’s drawing style evident along with the aetheric enchantments across all of his equipment.

Kiraea had never been much a one for handicrafts, too impatient compared to Yorna, that Kiraea had taken the time to craft so much for him spoke of a relationship that was more just producing the strongest possible offspring - genuine affectionate love.

It made the loss even more poignant.

“I can manage,” Karintha replied

“You were not yet recovered before the injuries you sustained, we don’t have time,”

She could not fault his logic, his tone carried no disrespect only facts, she was simply not in a physical state to assist in avenging her niece – Jarys was - leaving her place she put the small vial in which blood of the attackers recovered from the Nature deck and maintenance hall had been placed. 

As she passed she saw Milaea in the hall just beside the door to the control room, her green eyes quickly sizing up her injuries

“You should head back to join the others in the caverns, Kiraea needs you…” Milaea said

“You won’t be joining us?” Karintha didn’t hide her surprise.  She had not spent much time with Milaea, her different upbringing made her hard for Karintha to read, but she knew Kiraea saw her as a younger sister, her presence would surely help her recovery.

All such thoughts flowed freely between them

“Ari and I will help Jarys find and….”

Disquiet in her thoughts filtered through, Karintha understanding the complexity of concerns Milaea held in light of Jarys seemingly permanent state of Aephordaea’s Grace, his tight lid on his rage for the moment…and the likely resistance they would face from these two young adults given the precedent Taryn had set.

“Look after your father,” Karintha agreed 
“I will look after your sister,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 14, 2021, 10:12:41 PM
Chapter 27 — Rage and Shadow — By Scent of Blood — Part 2
Milaea

They had only one more shot at this.  But one was all they needed.

Jarys stood immovable amidst the quickly shifted Orb consoles, one hand on the third Obelisk as she and Ari numbed their fingers with aetheric precision lighting programming the Orbs to be able to detect the trace aetheric presence lingering in the blood Karintha had obtained.

Milaea glanced toward Jarys who remained stone still, face utterly expressionless, no thought or focus but hunting those who had harmed Kiraea and….

She turned back to her work…

A sibling Milaea would never know.

She hadn’t even known Kiraea was pregnant, yet the loss was still as keen as if it had been any of the other People.

How Kiraea would cope when Milaea barely could…

“Finished,” Ari whispered beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting, the grief lingering behind her half smile. For Ari it compounded on the recent move from Galtea and parting from her adoptive parents, yet it seemed she coped better with it.

“Me too,” Milaea replied, the Obelisk array would need a reset afterwards, but for now it would dramatically enhance their ability to trace and lock onto a single aetheric signal at the cost of disabling its usual broad range detection capabilities for a time.

“Did you speak to Valens?” Milaea asked

Ari shook her head,

“I couldn’t get through to him or Yorna…”

That was concerning. Milaea and Ari had sent them to investigate another signal from the array a few days before, intent on joining them until events had overtaken them. Between the two of them there were few threats Valens and Yorna should not be able to handle…yet…

The same could’ve been said for Kiraea and Karintha.

“Can I begin,” Jarys called across the chamber voice betraying no emotion, almost mechanical, Milaea wondering if he even noticed his brother and sister in law had been out of touch. 

Ari nodded and Jarys clenched down on the glass vial, the blood sample coating his hand amidst the shards as his right hand pressed on the Obelisk.

The thread of the aether in the bloods still living cells acted like a scent to a hound, he grasped the tendrils of it, breathed them in…then pushed out his senses through the Obelisk reaching across light-years to find the source.

Milaea felt the enormity of the energy he was using, the vicious probing of each sweep of his mind through the sea of aetheric presences galaxy wide as he sought to scry the attacker.

It would not be difficult all things considered, the fact the attackers were People meant they shared a number of easily identifiable Aetheric markers already, the difference to the Obelisks usual function was the heightened precision which was only possible with a specific individuals sample.

Deeper and deeper his mind plunged into the twisted net of luminous beings, seeking out the brighter red spars amidst blue, gray, green and colours that had no analogue in typical visual ranges.

The intensity of the power draw worried Ari and she quickly diverted a few aetheric circuits to overload orbs, glancing to Milaea with an unspoken worry that Jarys might pour out too much energy and collapse

That might be a good thing Milaea thought worried for her biological fathers frame of mind when he did find the attacker. 

Would he give into the primitive rage and kill them for harming his mate and unborn child, or given the attackers were lost People, would he try to understand what their motives were, what had happened to them since the Devastation to set them on such a path?

Milaea knew the latter was preferable, but in his ultra-focused state…she doubted Jarys could make such a choice…

I may have to make it for him

She well knew that she was the only one who could restrain him…if it came to it…by both raw power but also being his biological daughter, he could not even under the most twisted mental state overcome the protective hormonal need to protect her.

Milaea would not allow the attackers to be seriously harmed until she understood who they were, how and why they had attacked, even if foiling his need for revenge damaged her relationship with Jarys, she was resolved to doing what was right.

Ari stepped beside her placing a hand on her back to comfort as they watched Jarys eyes open and sharp as he gazed into the aether…inch by inch scratching out the trace of his prey.

Finally something changed in the emotionless glaze of his eyes, a sharpening of the muscles as his vision narrowed.

He’d found them.
<<<<>>>>

By Scent of Blood
The hum of the de-humidifier was the only sound.

Muddled green of the setting sun through gaps in the shutters the only light.

The blade through a throat the only movement.

She could’ve done it from a distance, but she needed to show herself and Sensei she could still achieve the closeness in stealth she had spent her whole life trying to perfect.

The body slumped as the blade left the neck followed by thin bubbling white haemolymph.

Their second target was dead, the last was the Nautolan they were to take alive. In addition they had found three beings that seemed somewhat appetizing based on Sensei’s usual preferences.

<We are done> Evyn thought across breaking the silence now the contract was complete

<We are….> she paused, his touch on her mind was firmer than normal

<Evyn what are…>

No it wasn’t Evyn…it smelt Male in her mind, but was not her brother…it was troublingly familiar…and it was growing.

<EVA> Evyn ‘yelled’ as another mind stabbed through like an open fist

It was rapid, intense and utterly without mercy, purely functional almost devoid of personality in entirety…and it wanted to grab her mind.

She physically dropped to her knees under the weight, erecting a quick mental guard she could – she had never fought in a mental battle before, only trained for it…how great the gulf between rehearsal and performance were.

Her resistance was hasty, sand bags tossed against crashing waves as a tsunami loomed on the horizon, no matter how many she pushed up it would never be enough.

Wetness fell onto her upper lip – her nose was bleeding.

Her skull felt cramped into a vice, eyes bulging as if about to explode as she gripped at the synth-skin over her head. 

Hyper alert and lethargic at the same time, the experience was horrific, and the tidal wave was getting closer.

Sounds spilled from her mouth – she was talking

“…43.55 degrees sub lane 3 at .6 past lightspeed….”

They fell but she didn’t understand them, they didn’t pertain to anywhere she was or had been.

And that was just as Jarys intended – he did not care where his Prey was Now while he was in the deep core, only where she would be.

He had a vector, now he needed a starting point. 

Hammering further into the psyche he gripped details of where she was…a green sun, humid conditions, repto-insectoid species…

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/p29MWdW/Jarys-Rage.jpg) (https://ibb.co/p29MWdW)
Jarys wasn't stopping...two to one he should retreat - instead following Vong tactics of relentless attack he doubled down.

Milaea couldn't sense through the twisting melee of minds what he intended...if he would draw back or press on till he effectively slurred both the attackers consciousness.

<The power draw is past safe limits> Ari warned as the two targets pressed back in a joint effort - not against the main thrust of Jarys thorns but against the slithering arcs he was using to probe weaknesses in their metaphysical flanks.

A good move she thought, not dissimilar to what Saani had advised - to look for such probing before responding to the prime force thorn in a mental battle.

Again everything Karintha had said of the attackers was confirmed...

Milaea could easily sense they were People, male and female, a few years younger than Ari but older than herself – born on Aethas toddlers at the Devastation...trained - well trained - but expertise in stealth, avoidance and illusion.

They were capable in open combat, mental or physical — against most other opponents the pair of them would succeed.

Unfortunately for them, in Jarys, they were fighting an Aethan guardian, Sons of Kessel guerrilla, Chiss Lieutenant and Extolled Avatar of War for whom the term 'veteran' scarcely did justice.

Their minds a united front were being worn down, both were on the floor, if Sensei had seen them he would cry in shame at their weakness. Yet all their energy had to be focused on the battle in their minds.

The waves crashed again, inevitable as the tide it would erode them both…or did it mask its limits behind vast shows of force.

No longer thinking as individuals the Twins twisted their defence to a circular ring of sentience keeping their higher consciousness thoughts tucked inside an area with ever less surface area to attack.

The ocean of rage tore around the ball seeking to overwhelm, but the twins sensed it was stretching.

Ari saw Jarys wreathed in lightning, the obelisks huge and dense trembling...it was not enchanted to propagate a cross galactic mind war...a shared look with Milaea indicated she realised it too, it was becoming dangerous for everyone.

Another rabid strike but the Twins kept firm their bond to each other - the constant of their lives - holding them against the predator hunting them.

A flicker of red, a crash of black water...

The obelisk crackled out and groaned, Jarys hand, smoking and singed flew off it as the connection shattered the make shift tracking device unable to cope with the type if not the volume of power unleashed through it.

As he fell to his knees frustrated and spent, a quarter galaxy away Evyn and Evaea rose on theirs.

<<<<>>>>

Mouth smoking, eyes still lit by blue glow Jarys stood.

“Glee Anslem in 12 hours." he stated with terrifying certainty.

Milaea was already beside him but he brushed off her attempt to offer a healing flow.

"That...will be difficult getting out of the deep core takes..." Ari explained even as she switched aetheric capacitors over to absorb excess energies for later use.

"I will find a way" Jarys emptily replied as he stood, without a word heading to the exit leaving Milaea still kneeling next to where he had been.

After a long pause, enough to ensure Jarys would not overhear Ari asked

<Did you do that?>

She had seen a flash of red energy, typical of Milaea just before obelisk overload.

Milaea stood up and walked slowly beside her.

<I want to protect All of my family> was her non answer.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/VDrhZcM/Twins-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/VDrhZcM)
Gauze rammed up their noses, heads reeling with echoes of shattering glass the Twins sat in the only seats, the pilot and co-pilot of the Midnight Sun.

"This is dangerous now...and...Troubling...I know you felt it too...how familiar this man was...just like the target and the woman with her...as if they are...family from..."

"No,"  she replied sternly, Evyn backing away at the harsh rebuke...too harsh she realised, her annoyance at being traced and hit so hard should not be taken out on Evyn in anger but used to motivate her to improve.

She leaned forward to cup his cheek

"You, Sensei, are family, these are targets and now threats...if they come again we defeat them and give them to Sensei to feed on..."

Evyn did not look convinced, their sunken eyes and dried blood under noses evidence of their unpreparedness a second time.

"We cannot return twice in shame, we find the Nautolan, then return, we have 13 hours it should take less than 10."

<<<<>>>>

Jarys
(https://i.ibb.co/nP10ZYW/Hyper-Approach.png) (https://ibb.co/Rj6SZs5)
On average it took twelve hours - on a good run - to leave Aethas and through torturous carefully plotted jumps between deadly novae and time crunching gravity distortions to reach the outskirts of Fresia to the Metellos Trade Route and the wider galaxy.

Jarys did not have that time. 

The route he took was outside sanity for most navigators to contemplate.

The Aertemisaea dagger like cut straight up perpendicular to the galactic plane the engines overcharged causing the vessel to tremble even more than the constant buffet of aching gaps in space time that peppered the deep core. 

The life and death of dozens of stars passed by him as so much pointless data and distortion.

There was only one life and death that consumed him.  A life that was never known, a death that was too premature. 

It had been his child too, even if still incompletely formed, something he had created with his mate, something of Life…and once again…as had happened so many time when he felt on the cusp of creating or building, the outsiders dragged him back into War.

Would he ever be anything but the Warrior, the Wrath of Goddesses made flesh.

He had no capacity to ask nor consider such questions now.

Mind cold as the Galactic void the ship reached toward, the place that was less place than mere vector relative to a pinprick abyss of compacted space time, he sought the blazing titans of the objects of his rage that loomed larger than the vastness of the Galaxy ‘beneath’ him.

Every star, every planet, the myriad lives of trillions meant nothing, were dust under his feet compared to the Absolute of the need to avenge his mate and her lost infant.

Hands firm, controlled and precise he slammed the repulsors and reverse engines to pivot the ship mid hyperspace, a doonium hull would’ve shattered, the Blackstone barely held. 

If he cared for the ship's integrity it was only because it was a necessity to attain his vengeance and protect the life of his living daughter.

Milaea watched her father from behind, he was aware at a base level of her concern, yet it held no useful content in his present state – her ‘status’ as alive was all that mattered.

Alerts sounded, systems began to turn from white to red as the brambly hedge of hyperspace anomalies surrounding the galaxy interceded with the faster than light travel. 

He surfed that bladed edge on a vector precise to the nanometer for a stretch of billions of kilometres that meant nothing to Jarys nor the senseless infinity of the universe.

Reaching a point of no note or meaning outside his rage he wrenched the controls and moved more in a direct line through the smear of stars to where those that must die lived.

<<<<>>>>

Evaea

Time was running out, short cuts were needed.

Rapid hacking that left a 13.7 per cent chance of detection into space port security archives that were mercifully largely complete to cope with Glee Anslems vast tourist numbers.

Further infiltration into local closed security systems isolated the target further and provided the detail to gain the ‘sense’ of their target as Sensei had taught.

To track one's prey one must understand its patterns, where it fed, watered, defecated, what it pursued and what it avoided, this built a nascent simulacrum in the mind that could guide the tendrils of the force toward the being that matched the patterns.

A shiver in her spine caused Evaea to paused in her rapid work crouched in an alcove beneath a communications and power panel outside a local police office on one of the endless tourist islands that peppered Glee Anslem, brine the base tone upon which lizard gulls, then Anselmi scent’s layered atop of, the harper notes belonging to the out of place tourists.

They would have to tell Sensei about the mental attack they’d suffered hours earlier, the dried blood still sitting heavy within her nostril.  Did this mean she was now the prey – had another predator caught her ‘Sense’.

It did not bare thinking about, they needed to find the Nautolon swiftly to ensure they made it back to Dypseth in time.

She could not let Sensei hunger for any longer.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

(https://i.ibb.co/4MZ8BzQ/TERMINATOR-THE-SARAH-CONNOR-CHRONICLES-Cameron-Summer-Glau-reassures-John-in-the-Born-To-Run-season.jpg) (https://ibb.co/4MZ8BzQ)

He looked more like a vorynx than a man, predatory curved posture, eyes wide and sharp, nostrils flared to pick up any scent, aetheric aura cold as the edge of a blade, keen and focused leading them to this small tourist island.

He had their scent, he would not let it go.

Jarys neck length hair glistened with oil from a lack of washing, a musky sweaty smell from his exertions since.

Everything about him Ari could see exuded animal ferocity to a level that - even though she knew he was dedicated to her protection - still made her uneasy.  Sofa had once told her how as a human female, human males could be physically imposing, Ari naturally had no such experience in a matriarchal society until this very moment.

The click-hiss of his helmet locking on removed some of her tension as she could no longer see his face.

“Search the docks for their vessel,” his words brooked no argument, male though he was he could command from experience if not his oath bound need to see this matter to the end alone.

“I hunt alone,”

Like black lighting he flashed from the transport ships hold into the increasingly grey clouded skies of Glee Anslem.

“A storm is coming…” Milaea noted just behind her

“A storm came with us,” Ari replied as Jarys vanished into the streets beneath the open air landing pads.

“Look for their ship,” Milaea went on stepping past her

“I’ll contain the storm,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 14, 2021, 10:15:27 PM
Chapter 27 — Rage and Shadow — By Scent of Blood — Part 3
The Coming Storm
(https://i.ibb.co/hWLfdNq/Eva-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/hWLfdNq)
He didn’t run, or resist.  Simply slumped in the wicker chair of the breezy room.

He hardly had the time.

From the roof seven floors above she sent a Force guided needle thinner than a strand of hair through the open window and into his neck where it dissolved in the body heat to a fast acting tranquilizer suited to amphibian humanoid species.

Her target Nautolon would be unconscious for at least forty eight hours, she had six more to deliver him to Sensei and fulfil her task in a timely manner.

A delicate flip into the room, a sea of white waif light curtains over Anselmi carved wooden floors she checked the prey’s vital signs to ensure no adverse reactions, the table before him littered with triple Xesh rated holo’s.

Extraction would be simple enough once he was adequately wrapped in some of the gossamer seafoam coloured sheets.

A creak nearby drew her attention, it was out of place, humidity and temperature was stable there was no reason for any of the buildings materials to expand or contract, the low pressure zone of the approaching storm too distant relative to the resorts climate moderation system.

Any further deliberation was ended as the building side frontage of the apartment collapsed inward upon her.

<<<<>>>>

There were 307 vessels in the tall standing landing tower -  the aether and Chiss sensors were Ari’s tool to narrow the field.

The first guided her in threads Kazic would call the daen nosi, the lines of fate, though what she experienced was more precise than the daen nosi Kazic did.

The trade-off was she lacked the grandeur and subtlety his vision of the lines afforded, a difference she suspected had to do with their innately different ways of connecting to the aether. .

This narrowed the search considerably, her datapad linked to the Aertemisaea and Assault Transports scanners provided the rest with detailed mapping of radiation spikes, or in this case lack thereof, one of the bays showed far too little radioactive traces, either the ship had been inactive for several years – unlikely at a tourist island – or the ship was composed of materials designed to limit radiation leakage.

20 stories high with pads protruding like large flat leaves about a central trunk that featured a dozen turbo lifts, Ari dispensed with conventional means and leapt in aether bounds from platform to platform toward the target ship, the odd technician or visitor on the platform neither seeing nor hearing her deeply buried presence.

Her stealth skills were as good as her adoptive mothers –  that was considerable – sharpened further with Kiraea and Jarys training and given material enhancement with Oblivion Armour.

None of this was enough to avoid the gaze of Evyn who waited for her, he felt the barely existent tremors through the duracrete of the tower of her rapid ascent, smelt her mass, heard the distortions of her light sucking armour.

Cresting mid-air over the lip of the platform she saw the T shaped vessel, already considering how to disable it, a bolt of emptiness struck her square in the breast.

<<<<>>>>

The shock was harder than the blow, most of which had been taken by her now cracking breastplate.

Ari sensed nothing coming until after it struck her.

Relying purely on the aether to guide her motions to avoid further blows from weapons light as flimsi, sharp as nexu teeth was even more troubling.

The grey clouds obscured the setting sun, but she could still see hover-skis, make out the very expressions on the riders face on the horizon with her genhanced eye sight.

She could not see her opponent at all.

Karintha’s reports of their stealth abilities was if anything an underestimation, Ari clattered to the platform beneath her intended destination and swept up all the loose windblown sand she could to fill the air enabling her to see any further attacks by their displacement.

The mini-sandstorm writhed with nano weapons.   

Her shattering telekinetic wave to threw them all back as she righted herself in time to avoid invisible bolts of energy that melted the duracrete pad about her feet.

Technology for non-luminous blaster bolts was rare, exceedingly expensive, the energy-rich gases needed to create an effective penetrating bolt required intense processing at best she estimated they would have six to eight shots…

The snap-hiss of her twin sabers igniting in her hands allayed her concerns, the similarity to Saani’s own hilts comforting as she bashed back two invisible bolts following the momentum into a leap side then teleport shunt upward.

Her enemy had not expected the last motion, the shot went wide – leaving only up to three rounds.

Landing on another edge of the pad she took a strong defensive posture with Niman dual wielding high blade positioning but Shii-Cho footing.

Evyn rapidly realised a frontal assault would fail his options were….

BROTHER HE’S HERE!

...drastically limited by the danger his sister was in.

<<<<>>>>

Ice winds and adamantium avalanches signalled the living Storms path.

Half a resort floor was wiped out by the blast, durasteel beams left exposed like bones as the plascrete skin was torn off, Beachwood furniture splintered into straw shards to hurl at his prey.

Jarys understood his prey used stealth, misdirection and deception. By obliterating the environment he left it no place to hide.

Evaea dropped the Nautolon’s flabby flesh, its unarmoured body shredded by the cascade of shrapnel as the floor fell out from under her turned to dust by a telekinetic shatter beyond her power to match.

She was the prey now, bursting through walls and dodging entire lounge pieces that began scratching her synth suit as she fled the inexorable creature that sought her.

Jarys stood the centre of a Maelstrom of pure aetheric energy that crackled like lighting seeking the squeezing heart of his target. 

She attempted to conceal herself, but blinding flashes of aetheric light and hail of ruined furnishing denied her any chance to do so.

In her haste Evaea did not even notice how unusual it was there were no further casualties, ignored the throngs of lolling tourists and staff huddled insensate on the nearby beach under red coils on mental submission to a Merciful Goddesses will.

Milaea hovered above the carnage as the storm in the clouds met the storm on the ground, heavy monsoonal rain pelting down as Jarys turned an entire wing of the sandy coloured gently sloping resort to ruin.

At the edge of her senses she felt Ari perplexed and worried by her own opponent, Milaea’s head rapidly turned in that direction.

She found herself caught between whether to return to help Ari, or stay to possibly restrain Jarys.

Trusting in Ari’s abilities she followed the hurricane like force that now tore through carefully landscaped tropical garden paths and cabana tents.

To Milaea’s view the girl was gaining distance…until leaving behind the ruins Jarys hit the ground from his Aetheric hover, snarling under his helmet.

The waves of fierce intent coming from behind elicited in Evaea an emotion vaguely akin to what lesser beings termed fear.

The being behind shattered every poisoned syringe with Force precision her training told her required seated concentration - dodged every blast from her needle pistol with speed impossible for what her vestibular senses told her was its mass – kept her firmly in his view in spite of every attempt she made to sidestep and slip into the Cloak of Shadow fully.

She had made a mistake coming here, whatever the shame she should’ve returned to Sensei after the metaphysical attack

Now, as he began grabbing with clawed fingers and Force grips at her heels, she might never get the chance.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/LRz6dHN/ari-8.jpg) (https://ibb.co/LRz6dHN)
On the snyth suit HUD Evyn switched the Midnight Sun drives from standby to half power as he lined up his aim for the next three shots, knowing the purple sabers the woman in light eating back armour wielded would block all three – the micro mines zipping along the ground with the Force were the real attack.

The second round began with screeching blaster bolt deflections and whirling purple blades.

The micro mine slipped through the kinetite barrier clamping to her frontal shin plate.

A stab of danger sense Ari hurled the plate away with the aether leaving the nano-weave bodyglove exposed. 

In mid-air the shin plate turned boiling orange with heat as the mine detonated – the ultra dense material did not melt fully, but it would’ve seriously burned her leg.

Both now attacked using their limited knowledge of the other.

Evyn knew he had the edge in stealth attacks and potentially physical strength.  Ari was better at open combat and her armour and weaponry far more durable than a stealth synth suit.

Evyn kept mobile, leaping onto the Midnight Sun’s hull raining shots from his own Needle pistol.

Ari responded with words she hoped were just as sharp as her sabers shattered the hair thin projectiles fired at several times the speed of sound.

“We don’t need to fight!”

Evyn closed his mind rapidly as he looked for a way through her seemingly impenetrable guard, with only one micro mine left and his other weapons expended

“You can feel we are kin!”

He peppered the air with the last of the needle pistols ammunition, rapidly jolting himself to the side to hit her flank as her blade sliced through the needles.

Barely in time she avoided the Phase-dagger thrust at her side, spinning out she continued her psychological assault seeking his mind to impose her matriarchal will.

“Lay down your weapons now!”

Thrusts and slashes came thick and fast as she wove to avoid them…something was wrong, she weighed more than she should…her precise senses able to tell 326 grams…the same weight as…

A buffet of telekinetic energy to gain distance she now had to hurl her back plate away as another magma-mine turned it to a scorching orange glowing weapon.

“Your cunning is of Aethenaea, strength of Aertemisaea!” Ari continued as she felt the stirrings of conflict in the aether – diffuse as he kept his presence concealed so tightly but no less real.

Evyn had been taught by Sensei that enemies would try to deceive him with words, calls of familial connection.  He had no difficulty blocking them out, especially as he sensed his sister in impending danger approaching swiftly.

“Yes…the compassion of Aephrodaea,” Ari seized lowering her guard ever so slightly
“Your sister…you want to protect your sister….she is in no dang….”

No…Goddess no…

Beneath her helmet Ari’s face dropped, this man’s sister Was in danger from Jarys, the need to avenge Kiraea was the very barrier that prevented Ari’s words getting through. 

<MILAEA Stop JARYS It’s the only way I can get through to them! They are Afraid!>

<<<<>>>>

She had already decided she would intervene if it saved lives.  Somehow that didn’t make it easier.

The girl was hurling entire tree trunks and speeders in Jarys path – they simply shattered from either his HADES pistol blasts or on his charging shoulder.

They were on the main road now, Milaea’s power taken up with the enormous task of sending civilians off the road and into the banks either side.

Her hair was drenched, even her red coat sagging on her as she kept herself telekinetically afloat over the pursuit.

The assassin girl was almost in his grasp, Jarys fist grabbing air millimetres from her arm, once he caught her…

Milaea couldn’t take that chance.

(https://i.ibb.co/BtvbdTP/M-Unwilling.jpg) (https://ibb.co/BtvbdTP)

A flare of heated red flash evaporated the torrential rain and slammed Jarys to the side off the road.  He rolled and snarled quickly regaining his footing and continuing his pursuit only to find himself hamstrung as time itself seemed to prevent his motion

He glared through the HUD of his helmet at the glowing red form of his daughter even as he felt his prey escape and with the space and time afforded vanish with her incredible stealth ability.

He locked eyes through the temporal distortion with his daughter.

She was the only one whose intervention he could not resist, the only one whom he could not oppose or direct anger towards. 

She knew it. And she used it.

Now she just hoped Ari could make it worth it.

<<<<>>>>

“He’s been called off…” Ari spread her arms and deactivated both her sabers in the standoff as a show of trust as the man kept circling her the incessant rain a grim shroud about him that slicked the ferrocrete she stepped gingerly upon.

“…we can talk this through, there has been hurt on both sides, miscommunication and misunderstanding but we are one People, all can be heal…”

Red sharp experience flooded her back as something sharp sunk in just before she teleport shunted to avoid it fully.

Instinct sharpened by training kicked in and her sabers hissed in the rain to spark against the Phase Dagger aimed at her neck.

<Don’t listen to these predators! We leave now!> Evaea’s thoughts across the twin bond were piercing as the blade she had just sunk into Aresaea’s unarmoured back.

The Phase-dagger alternated between Baryonic and non-Baryonic states of existence several times per second enabling the blade to bypass conventional matter then reintegrate itself as it phased back causing extreme damage as the blades reversion displaced flesh before being pulled out in its non-Baryonic phase.

The red sensation of damage was quickly suppressed as Ari drew on her reserves of strength to teleport shunt forward to avoid a second blow, reminding herself she had faced down the seemingly immortal Revenant Banshee far more battered than this.

The icy glare across the gale force winds was broken as Milaea sensed Ari’s pain and despaired that she may have just broken her fathers trust and lost her…best friend?…

The temporal distortion holding Jarys slow in time was reversed with interest into an acceleration.  He needed no instruction to rush at twice his natural phenomenal speed to help Ari, Milaea by Force flight following close behind, but the fatigue from keeping thousands of civilians out of harm's way and covering their tracks with memory wipes was setting in, she could only act as support at best.

Through flurry’s of sparks and slashes of rain bouncing off pauldrons or hydro-phobically averted around synth-skin the Twins tried to move toward their ship, Ari would not allow it clamping down on the vessel with her telekinetic prowess, the hull buckling inward at the joins.

Desperate as she avoided a blow aimed at her ankles Evaea hurled her last magma mine – with graceful co-ordination born of their unique bond the tiny black octagon wove through the forest of saber and dagger, avoided the counter telekinetic waves and sparks of lighting to clamp onto Ari’s breast plate.

Once more Ari found herself having to divest a piece of her armour to save her body from being burnt.  Igniting a lighting shield the sparks coursed all over the landing pad lighting the silhouettes of the Twins in pure aetheric energy and blowing out lumens embedded in the platform.

With distance she launched her now searing breast plate at the Twins, the rain instantly evaporating on contact with the orange glowing armour, but realizing again they were outmatched in open conflict they flanked her on either side, breast and back now unarmoured inviting targets.

Ari found herself the centre of a whirling conflagration of purple and blue the air full of steam amidst the glistening anti-green of the Phase blades that struck at her even while the ship began to slowly lift under auto-pilot controls. 

She was gaining the measure of these two’s techniques – focused on delivering single fatal blows rather than winning a lengthy bout, their stealth techniques not as effective for Saani’s training, but the lack of armour and wound that crept angrily to her shoulder blades prevented Ari from gaining any ground and muddied her otherwise flawless Jar-Kai Combination technique.

Pressing the advantage the Twins readied to drive home for the kill, as astounding as their opponents defence was they could not escape while she lived.  Phase-daggers cut the very molecules of rain droplets apart as they sought between the purple saber blades for purchase behind a faltering guard.

Countenance firm Ari readied for her own surprise attack when the entire platform shook dangerously loose as a hulking shadow crash landed on the long front of the ship fist and knees shattering the plating and cracking the stygium crystals beneath.

Before the tremors had time to subside Jarys leapt into the melee, fists like wrecking balls sending the Twins’ flying away from Ari to avoid the impact that would surely shatter their bones.

They had to chance a run now, Evaea crimped and loosed a Trandoshan Nepenthe Mist sachet from her gauntlet, hoping the dark green acrid smoke would force them to keep some distance as Evyn rolled and tumbled to the hatch avoiding if only just the ferrocrete shattering grasps.

There was no way in which the Twins could win the fight now as Ari sought to pin them from a distance while Jarys near rampaged.  Rushing to the hatch Evaea leapt in beside a staggering Evyn, their united energy blasting the unstoppable predator back even as they flaked off Ari’s grips while slamming the hatch to shut.

Pushing through the constant buffering Jarys leapt forward, his fingers digging into the upper edge of the closing hatch, the hydraulics failing and grinding as he tugged it back open.

Evyn hit the thrusters and overdrive with the Force, an otherwise trivial task that diverted precious newtons from trying to keep the predators off them.

The Midnight Sun’s Engines pounded out as curls of metal peeled from the hatch as Jarys fought to keep the vessel - accelerating toward Mach 1 - on the ground with brute strength and force of will alone.

For a moment as Milaea arrived just behind it seemed as if he might actually succeed before the ship’s rear turrets opened up on him and Ari.

Shattering green plasma forced him to let go and Ari to cross her sabers to block the preternaturally precise shots as the vessel finally managed to break free, vanishing into the roiling dark grey skies bleeding smoke.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 15, 2021, 05:32:22 PM
Once again we see the Beast.  The Twins are about to learn what Sarah Conner did in "The Terminator:" he absolutely will NOT stop until they're dead  ;)  Smart move for Mili and Ari, accompanying Jarys on his mission...if such a detached label could be ascribed to his absolute need/imperative for vengeance.  Not that I blame him; Jarys has experienced loss throughout his life the likes of which would break most, and that with just a single incident (first Celina, later Mili, and now his and Kiraea's unborn child).  Haunting...

I have to admit that I particularly enjoy the action in this Chapter: with Jarys and Ari engaging the Twins, Mili on "Damage/Mind Control," we can see the fine line between utter destruction and qualified restraint.  Without Mili's intervention, the Storm would annihilate everything on Glee Anslem.  I wonder just how long either Twin (for that matter, both of them) would last against the Beast.  Not as long as even their Sensei could guess...

AWESOME pics!  Special shout-out for For Tyeth's incredible rendering of the Aertemisaea; absolutely STUNNING  :)

Now, who will win out: Mili's sense of inclusion and forgiveness or Jarys' single-minded revenge?



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 21, 2021, 11:19:30 PM
Chapter 28 — Rage and Shadow — Of Anger and Betrayal
A Moment to Breathe
(https://i.ibb.co/WH00FKZ/Mil-Sad.jpg) (https://ibb.co/WH00FKZ)

“It’s not bad…” Ari insisted as Milaea checked her back, copious amounts of healing energy flowing in

There was a sense of irritation in Ari’s voice, not at Milaea but at herself for having failed to resolve the conflict peacefully.

Milaea would’ve loved to have sensed irritation at her from Jarys in place of the cold emptiness as he stared into the sky helmet in his hand as the rain wetted his unshaven face and slicked his unkempt hair.

“I really thought we had a chance…I could feel him turning, listening…but…”

Milaea shook her head. There was no reason for Ari to try and justify herself, she had tried to do the right thing in a confused and twisted situation.

“Hopefully we’ll get another chance…” she looked to her biological father whose gaze remained distant for long second, before abruptly she twisted and leapt off the platform.

Her wound sealed Ari gave Milaea a look that said ‘we better follow’. They jumped after him.

Their own transport was not far, the distance made infinite by the silence between them.

Jarys was in the cockpit already by the time they caught up, powering the engines as if whether they got on board in time or not was mere luck.

“I’ll talk to him,” Ari said as the ship lifted barely a second after they had entered, the hatch still closing behind them.
“It was my idea to…”

“No, put some bandages and Obishi leaves on that cut, I stopped him…I…I’ll…”

Ari just nodded following her down the short corridor before entering the first door on the right to the medical bay.

Tentatively entering the cockpit just in time to see the clouds transition to vast blue then star sprinkled black she sat in the co-pilots chair.

“I’m sorry…I thought we could prevent a fight, if Ari could get through to him, if he didn’t feel his sister was under threat…”

There was no reply but the soft chimes and beeps of the controls.

On the viewscreen appeared the three dimensional map in white on blue hologram showing the docking trajectory to the Aephordaea in geosynchronous high orbit.

“When I punched through their Ships hull I dropped a Tracking Orb in,” Jarys voice was as it had been ever since Kiraea was harmed, empty, clear and cold.

“They won’t escape.”

In the aether there was only the same stern unrelenting focus, no anger or annoyance for having delayed his vengeance. 

Milaea didn’t know what to expect in all honesty, she had never seen Jarys angered – of course she knew very well the fury he could unleash, on Nar Shadda, Coruscant, Myrkr, Ord Mirit, but she had not been there to witness it up close.  If he was angry with her she could not tell.

Even through the cold calculation of Aephrodaea’s Grace the plaintive data of his daughters distress and uncertainty held potency.

“I’m not angry at you for stopping me,” He finally said as the docking bay doors on the underside of the Aertemisaea opened as his electronic and aetheric credentials were entered into the bespoke security system of the ship that combined quantum identifier code passes with Aetheric individualised pattern detection.

“Ari’s deduction was not unsound, but she overestimated her ability to persuade them, they are assassins - they strike first and do not negotiate…what saddens me…”

The ship cut its forward momentum and lifted gracefully into the bay.

“…is that you did not trust me…assumed  my anger could override the most fundamental of my instincts to protect People...all People - even from themselves….”

“…but they killed your…”

“I know what they did, and I will take my revenge for it…” his voice was barely a whisper

“But upon whom, when and how…that I won’t know until I’ve interrogated all the agents involved…I was about to catch her, pin her down, make her companion come to me as he did when Karintha near overwhelmed her before. There was precedent, evidence that is how they would react.  Instead she escaped and wounded Ari…because you did not trust me to have the fortitude to hold my rage in check.”

The ship settled on the elevated landing pads, small Chiss attendant droids began their work of post flight checks.

Jarys stood and swept out, no doubt headed straight to one of the Aetheric Nexus Chambers to begin tracking, leaving Milaea alone. 

”To be angry is easy…to be angry at the right place, the right person, the right time…that is hard…

Words Kiraea had passed to her from Karintha, a dictum Milaea had thought her own father too brutish to adhere to.

She sat still there long enough for the sensor lights to switch off from inactivity.

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/yy766K0/Eva-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/yy766K0)
Behind them the hatch was covered in blobs of emergency hardening sealants in eight thick lines where the Predators fingers tore through doonium and durasteel.

The entire Cloaking system was damaged beyond function from where the beast of a man that had attacked them mentally now physically had landed.

How many more of these beings were now hunting them? They knew of five, were there ten, a dozen more?  They could barely survive against one in an open fight.

And above all this they had failed Sensei again, would return in shame quadrupled as it occurred twice in a row.

Physically they were uninjured but psychologically.

“Sister…” Evyn broke the silence

“The things that woman with the purple Light sabers said…names from songs our parents would sing….”

“Sensei is our family,” Evaea said gently

“He fed us, clothed us, taught us…she is a Force wielder, likely drew them from your memory to use against you, Dun Moch Sensei called it, to make us doubt ourselves,”

“No, surely it is more, these beings…I know you can Feel how familiar they are…like they are…siblings, not as close as we are to each other but still…”

She turned sharply the red glare of the screens lighting her exhausted feature with harsh shadows that contrasted with her gentle voice.

“Lies, trickery, illusion, Sensei taught us to overcome such tactics prey will use to deceive a predator…and they are Prey…”

The word seemed hollow given twice they had – on a generous assessment – been fought to a draw, their enemies abilities in open combat exceed their own, and their preternatural senses denied the Twins the stealth one shot kills they preferred.

“Sensei will know what to do…we’ll take a longer route to ensure we are not followed, perform a Force-Blood bond cleansing to prevent them tracking us again…”

She had just as many doubts as her brother as well he knew, but Sensei was all they knew, their father, it was his guidance they needed now.

<<<<>>>>

Vzin Kree

The ship settled into the dust covered bay where even the slightest step on the actual ground would leave tracks forcing the Disciples of Twilight to telekinetically hover to avoid any path being left.

A small patch of dust was less thick in the far corner, Kree smiled at the memory of the man he had fed on there.

The Twins were nearly eight hours late, and the stench of defeat was even greater than last time.

The hatch clumsily fell open, patch seals evident, steam and acrid gases hissing from damaged sections of the cloaking field generator…more irritating expenses…

His two foundlings existed, their presence dull and scratchy, they had the sense to perform a cleaning this time before returning, a few minor injuries already healed by their enviably fast biology.

Their eyes were kept down on the wisping floor as the Force filled freely with their recent memories.

Their instinctive ability to communicate and absorb precise thoughts and memories in the Force had made their training so much faster, and post mission debriefing far simpler…there was an odd similarity Kree felt to how memories flowed into him when he tasted a beings Soup, as if the mechanism of their instinctual delving and deliverance had some kind of common origin.

He witnessed through their minds the beings that had ambushed and defeated them…

The Red Haired Angel Hovering above…bittersweet and richly indulgent…

A prodigy with two purple sabers, more auburn hair of unshakeable will and compassion…a more broad range of flavours from so many experiences…and lastly…

Dominating in every sense of the word, imposing and extreme, a true meaty main course that dripped delicious savoury juices to whet Kree’s appetite even at this distance.

Any irritation at the Twins second failure began to subside as he relished the three new meals they had found for him.

“My children…” he soothed at last lifting Evaea’s chin with his fingers

“Fear not, you have done well, drawn the prey to us where we may combat them on our own terms, in the depths of the Shadows of the Fortress Monastery…these favour the light and the clash of blades…here they will fall to the dark and the cloaked dagger…”

“Sensei we have tried to ensure they didn’t…” Evyn interrupted

“Oh they will follow my child…they will follow…” Kree paced along the ship, feeling out the Force…there in the midst of the ruin of the Cloaking Field Generator was a sphere of disruption only his sense tuned over centuries could detect.

The Twins following his example by osmotic absorption looked aghast they had missed it, Evaea quickly leaping onto the ship and plucking the small marble out.

She stared at it a little too long for Kree’s liking, the familiarity these prey were trying to build had just been re-enforced.

“Give it to me,” he snapped, the girl complied.

Only a handful of times in his centuries had he seen such material, only then as ornament for its high value or in collections of rare minerals…never fashioned to be functional...except.... 

There was something familiar, memories of myths told to him as a child, a warning that beings of Shadow would abduct the disobedient work house children who tried to flee offworld...

“Sensei, what is it?”

“A tracking device, nothing more,” he dismissed the foolish reminisces, a mere myth to keep the lowly druf caste from depopulating the nobles domains. He focused on his impending feast of at least three…

“Prepare the defences, they will arrive soon,”

…possibly five, the Twins time was drawing near, conflict was building in them, whatever the outcome of this battle they would be less useful to him once they saw their co-species fed upon.

Yes Kree resolved, at last their time too was come, a meal twenty and more years in the making would soon be his to savour.

<<<<>>>>

Jarys

Emitting dull blue glows along the side the Aertemisaea exited hyperspace at the edge of a sparsely populated system in the Varada Sector, what details they had indicated the region was owned by the Soro-Suub corporation, but the lack of traffic here indicated this particular system was absent mineral wealth sufficient for a colony.

The aether guided his gaze across the star speckled fields to a place invisible to his electromagnetic vision but thrumming in his aetheric vision.

It tried not to of course, any other Jedi or Sith would sense nothing untoward. 

No this vision was for him alone, for it was the shatter point lines of his…and his families…fate that drew him here a beacon unique to him enhanced by the orb he had planted.

He sought the tiny object, it sat warm in the grasp of a smiling assassin who waited for him.

Rising from the pilot's chair with a flick of his wrist he set the controls for a micro jump closer.

His armour unremoved for days felt over comfortable and melded to his skin as he strode the halls to the turbo lift, descending first to the workshops on level six for new power packs for his ranged weapons then the hangar.

Milaea and Ari were already there, the former down cast, the latter focused as they approached.

“Perhaps we should call the others, attack in force?” Ari suggested as the transports hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss.

“There is no time,”

Ari moved in behind him, Milaea just behind her.

Jarys stopped dead, but did not turn.

“Stay here, see that nothing leaves or lands upon this moon until I say so,”

Ari felt incredibly uncomfortable in between them - a no-man’s land between lines of trenches. 

A reply hovered on Milaea’s lips.

It never came. 

The hatch sealed.

<<<<>>>>

The moon was covered in wavering burgundy clouds, the composition barely breathable from the scans, thickly layered giving it double Courscanti standard pressure.  It mattered not, Aethan biology enabled him to go hours without drawing breath and could easily cope with ten times the pressure.

The craggy surface featured numerous impact craters that had preserved the planet below from hits, rivulets of acidic fluids where the gas clouds cooled and precipitated acrid drops depending on the moon's position relative to the sun and planet.

This intermittent dissolving had created in one region hundreds of large spires of less reactive stone.  Like a sharpened rugged city skyline the dull grey towers seemed to sway with the clouds that passed between them, looming over the smaller ones and endless black depths between their rain dulled tips.

It was into the abyssal gaps between the spires that he guided the ship, light vanishing with sound and heat, the clouds taking in all the solar heat high above them leaving the surface frigid.

A descent to the Rivers of the Dead, where in the times of the Goddesses, Orphaea had journeyed across to rescue her beloved Eyraea. 

But the lands of the Dead were not a place where the living should tread, and at the last instant she was lost when she looked back upon her.

For a moment he imagined he was crossing that river in search of the key to reviving what Kiraea and he had lost, in matching his might against the gates of the underworld to reach the plains of Aelysia where the Goddesses dwelt…to see there again his grandfather, mother, so many friends lost….

If Milaea could cross that river to return Karintha and Yorna why couldn’t he…

The thought passed quickly as in the fog an outline too straight to be natural came into view.  The Monasteries exact height was difficult to tell, at least 6 stories of large blocky constructs added at different times, spires and towers on the very edge of the column of rock it was situated upon, which in turn was surrounded by the frozen chill clouds of dense black gases, how much further the chasms went filled with that murk he did not care to contemplate.

“Limited heat and radiation traces…the clouds absorb it quickly…but a ship came through within the last few hours…” Ari noted her hands moving quickly scrolling through sensor readings

She looked up to the approaching Fortress, there was an aura of decay about it, render peeling, streaks and hold rooves…yet it seemed too…cliché, like a holodrama set piece. 

This may have been a ruin once, and the outer had been ‘preserved’ but she suspected within it had been remodelled for the assassin's needs.

“Perhaps we should just scan the area, the twins were strong combatants, two onto one I couldn’t defeat them…we don’t know how many others there might be…”

Ari did not doubt Jarys prowess, even among the Vhal’Dan there were only those that could offer him a match but none she could see defeating him outright.  But this was the assassin’s home ground, it would be well defended.

“There is only one other…”

“How can you know that? The Orb?” her question was not mocking but genuine

He didn’t reply, just glided the ship toward a larger rooftop, old once red ceramic tiles now faded splotchy.

“Wait here, if I need you, you’ll know,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 21, 2021, 11:23:07 PM
The Assassins and the Unstoppable

(https://i.ibb.co/JF5jJgb/Jarys-rage2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/JF5jJgb)(https://i.ibb.co/30HJG3Q/Twins-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/30HJG3Q)

With a deafening shatter he crashed through the roof raining tiles and already brittle durasteel with him.

He found himself in a musky dust choked room lit only by the hazy maroon clouds from the gap he had just made – even that light seemed to resent spreading further into the large area leaving it pitch black on all sides.

There were columns arrayed in a grid pattern, curved like the ceiling that echoed every sound a dozen times over.

This was a place where stealth was near impossible…or rather where one was forced to learn how to make it possible.  Even this brief glimpse explained much to him about where his enemies had developed their abilities.

And confirmed exactly how they would attack.

He strode into the dark undaunted.  

Aethan biology featured an impressive array of senses, electromagnetic radiation spectrum at far greater ranges than most humanoids through eyes, thermal sensory organs behind each eyebrows that overlapped visual input, anterior organs on their vestibular utricles at the head and hips that detected the mass of nearby objects.  

Absent only his olfactory sense behind his helmet, he strode through room after room, hall after hall, down winding stair cases and labyrinthine passages to the only beacon he had, the orb he had placed.

He knew at some point they would attack, knew they would be watching him.  If this was some kind of attempt to build anxiety through anticipation they clearly did not understand how People fought and thought.

There were ghosts in this place – fragmentary shadows of those that had died here, their aetheric echoes etched to the stone that hovered on the edge of making some motion in the real world.  He passed them without incident.

At last he came to vast lightless area that would once have been a courtyard, filled with the curved columns that amplified and repeated every step he made. He estimated he was in one of the lowest levels, they may be planning to collapse the entire place upon him.

That seemed ill fitting with their cautious style so far, and as he reached the rough centre of the plaza like area his spine turned cold with danger sense.

They doubled down on the tactic used against the woman with the purple sabers, hurling their full stock of two dozen magma mines already primed at his armour.  

It was expected he would deflect or detonate most, but even one or two lost pieces of plate would offer a vast area to fire their needle guns and send their telekinetically guided poisoned needles into.

Even as Jarys rapid draw of his sword and the rub of every joint in his armour echoed with noise that seemed anathema to this place, the first mines lit with dull orange as they began to rapidly heat even before he sent them flying away.

The weapons moved with unnerving silence and speed, as clandestine as Kiraea’s best shikkars, he shattered one on his blade as his pistol in his left hand blasted three more – light blooming only to be eaten away in an instant as more came at him in complex helixes of motion.

He knew this was only the start, and he sliced down to cut those crawling along the floor to his feet the second phase began.

Evyn leapt from the ceiling aiming for the neck join with Phase-daggers in both hands as Evaea came from the rear Phase sword and dagger to slice in at the arm pits, each with a drill of telekinetic energy as vanguard to shatter his instinctual kinetite shield.

Scrapes silent and loud filled the void like plaza as Jarys Sword deflected one Dagger, his pauldron the second with an unnatural twist even for Aethan dexterity, the aether broke apart with fragments of blade like telekinetic energy around him, Evaea weaving between them forcing Jarys to use all his flexibility to avoid one strike, but still suffer a second.

The tip of the phase sword pierced under his arm before he could turn his pistol on her, her aim was off, she’d fallen into a pattern of aiming for where ligaments and muscle were on a ‘normal’ humanoid frame – despite outward appearances Aethan bone and musculature was differently placed to enable a dramatically larger range of motion rendering her attack far less effective.

Even so the first pulse of red flared due to damage in his mind as he fired into where her back had been and pushed Evyn off simultaneously.

The pair rapidly retreated back into the shadows as the last few magma mines he was too distracted to deflect hit on his right shin and upper left arm plates – the blazing thermal energy too extreme to absorb he was forced to divest himself of the pieces as he scanned for where the attackers had gone.

His prediction of their tactics had been correct – they favoured a surprise fatal one shot kill, when this failed they would retreat back and use their cloaking abilities to reposition for another attempt, each time the secondary objective to remove more of his armour to increase the damage even a failed attempt would leave.  Attack, retreat, attack, retreat.

The dull glow from the molten armour was soon swallowed by black…and the next attack came instantly after.

Four more such assaults followed.  

Each time the pair would strike with a different method.

On the first they repeated their initial tactic albeit with fist sized hull breaching charges rather than mines – designed to blast holes in doonium each detonation shook the foundations of the place and light the whole area in yellow blooms against which his blade blade clashed on their daggers as they rushed to and fro in a series of cavalry like shock charges aiming to overwhelm.

He struck hard and fired back just as viciously.

On the second round one of them fired a powerful sniper rifle while the other attempted to flank, the bolts he bounced back while the melee attack he fended in three brief slashes, but in so doing missed a second rifle that damaged his right pauldron.

The Third attack hurled a veritable blizzard of rocks at him, intermingled with which were micro shrapnel pieces accelerated to several times the speed of sound that ground his chest plate and sword like eroding sands, as he held the storm back grenades rolled at his feet, some cryo-bang and other Glu-gel to try and pin his feet, as each he didn’t hurl back detonated they leapt past with spinning phase blades, two managed to take chinks from his helmet, his ripostes landed at least one groan inducing hit.

The Fourth began as he strode further into the black depths unable to hear anything but the echoes of all the previous encounters ringing.  he felt out the presence of dangerous ‘lines’ on the ground – laser trip wires and danced through them when they began dropping gas and acid grenades from above.
By now his armour was heated and pitted from the previous attacks giving numerous etches for the aerosol acids to fit in, though the majority were inert against Blackstone a few managed to hiss away on the far larger regions of exposed body glove.  

They struck again in their regular pattern, one charging from each flank to perform run by strikes with their blade, he deflected or blocked most, adding a fist, shot or boot in return, but more were scratching at him.

The Twins landed in controlled crouches back at the far edges of the room, the juggernaut of an opponent, despite the shabby state of his armour still stomping through the echoed filled courtyard.  They were safe here even on opposite sides, the prey was still unable to see them through the Cloak of Shadow.

A war of attrition was not natural for them - adaptation to the prey was - now at last they deemed his defences to be worn enough to use their needle pistols and toxin laced darts and shrikes.

Vzin Kree sat at the far end of the courtyard seated in a meditative pose observing all, tasting the sweat and rage upon the gusts of air the explosions brought to him, the delicious irresistible force of the meaty creature that strode toward him, and the desperate finesse of the Twins trying to prove their ability to him.

Truly they were mere appetizers to this main meal now, they lacked the depth of experience this walking feast possessed, but even still each one would be  richer meal than a hundred beings added together.

Jarys continued to stride forward to where he felt the orb in the slimy fingers of his true prey, as if the devastating attacks delivered by expert assassins were so much rain off his back.  Numerous cuts into his body glove exposed his skin to the still foaming acid gases, muscles had been torn where the phase blades had managed to hit.

None of it mattered.

The pits of Nar Shadda could not hold him, the legions of Hutt and Black Sun mercenaries could not restrain him, Jedi Sentinels could not withstand him, Sith Lords and their alchemical spawn were trodden on by him, these two young adults talented though they were could only be minor irritants.

Needle pistols loaded, phase daggers at the reach, anaesthetic laced syringes between each finger the Twins charged.

With all the speed and precision their Sensei had imparted the Twins struck with deadly fury, needles thinner than hair follicles streamed out in telekinetically guided broad sides, kinetic lances struck at every major artery – the twins finally hitting upon the need to target him based on their own anatomy – needle pistols fired cascades of drill like projectiles full of the most noxious venoms Evaea could concoct.

Everything struck him in a single instant intended to utterly overwhelm.

Jarys replied with a furious blade of a combined Lighting and Flame shield that vaporized half of the projectiles and rederend most of the rest useless.

His sword spun in rapid arcs blocking the phase daggers, the aetheric enchantments his wife had so carefully instilled fully active countering their technological novelty with aetheric counter measures.

All the echoing sounds in the chamber where overwhelmed by the new fury of clashing blades, ripping syth skin, stamping boots, shockwave spewing clashes, blinding arcs of aetheric energy and backwash of telekinetic impacts that blew chunks off the nearby columns and created a crater around the clash.

Some needles got through, Jarys body primed in a state of Aephrodaea’s Grace for days was more than ready to seal any breach deploying Z Cells to consume the foreign matter.  Phase daggers rent into the last complete plates of Blackstone armour as compensation for a miss to his neck or chest.  

The Twins unleashed all their skills, an otherwise unstoppable force that now met an immovable object and ground in sparking fury against it.

He took the damage, endured the blows, his mind flashed with innumerable red heated damage indicators, none could compare to the emotional pain his hormones were suppressing.  The suffering he could not protect his wife from, and the seeming loss of two children, one he would never hold, another who would never let herself be held.

His initial shields dying he began fighting back.

The suddenness of his movements comparative to his size still shocked Evyn, the ferocity of his blows was matched only by the control and expert timing that took Evaea by surprise as Jarys dropped his sword mid slash to grab her hand holding her phase dagger – with tremendous force he squeezed, her own fingers retching inward to crack the hilt within and destroy the complex machinery beneath rendering the blade and her hand non-functional.

Without missing a beat he caught his sword with the other hand millimetres from the ground, ducking under Evyn’s blow, the assassin in the midst of a leaping attack.  Before their bond could even register his sister's pain Jarys grabbed his blade and arced it round to slash through the boy's upper left thigh and across the body into his right forearm, the synth skin easily parted with the flesh beneath and he crashed down.

Jarys turned again to the girl who was more rapid to recover thrusting at his back, Jarys twisted on his heel to catch her arm under his, drawing her in then elbowing back to crack her in the face.

Her chin and right cheek broke, mouth feeling mushy.  Letting her drop Jarys drove his sword into the side of the young boy – for children were all they were manipulated misguided children – the blade dug through into the ground pinning him in place.

No matter what training and equipment they had, at barely over twenty they could not match a fully grown, nourished and experienced Aethan male past the second pubertal period aged 43 standard years who had known only constant war for more than 25 of those.

Evaea struck instantly in defence of her brother, gauntlet injectors jetting out as she punched and kicked in swift combinations that met nothing but durasteel blocks.  Using the Force to stay elevated she managed to land a kick to Jarys head, the helmet already damaged from previous attacks now more hindrance he discarded it with a head butt to her risen shoulder.

The sensation of damage mere fact rather than visceral sensation Evyn tore himself free and joined the fight once more, his side slick and meaty.  

They hit hard and firm, but against a wall of adamantium.  They could smack him in the head, and chest for hours and it would do no good, welts and bruises appeared only to vanish under heavy micro-shatterpoint healing that drained the life force from the twins to power it with subtlety they had not the experience to resist.

Within moments Evaea missed a beat and received a mag-train back hand sending her flying, Evyn instinctively pivoted to help her – a mistake paid for with a knee to the torso and hand round the throat lifting him up.

Coughing out blood Evaea’s eyes wanted to shut out the universe as she blinked away tears of fatigue and terror as her brother was held like a doll.

“Rest child…” Sensei soothed beside her only encouraged her drowsy state.

“Sen…ssen…” she tried to speak

Vzin simply smiled as he drew closer to the appetizer twenty three years in the making, the glistening lubricating fluids on his proboscis obscured by the infinite black about them.

It was time at last to begin the feast, sourness of defeat contrasted with familial devotion and sharp pang of betrayal overlaid upon all this girl had experienced over twenty three years would be a king’s banquet in any other situation – today it was mere appetizer.

Slick flesh tickled at her nostrils as all she believed shattered as much as her body as she became the supine meal for the man she had thought a father…

A flash of blue light seemed to signal her end…instead she felt only absence where Sensei’s heated face had been before.

For now was the time.

Days after he learned of the life and loss in the same instant Jarys allowed himself to fully parse the reality of the situation, to allow the full anger to fill his every cell with righteous vengeful fire.

Here was the place, here was the way, and that was the creature at whom to be angry in fulfilment of Karintha’s wise dictum.

Kree rose wearily last crackles of the lightning blast slipping from his body.

Irritation at the delay in his meal flared in equal measure to the aching hunger to consume this creature.  

The Twins lay broken apart in the darkness as Jarys less walked that loped toward the Anzat that would’ve had his wife killed, these two lost children horribly consumed, and had killed his unborn child with Kiraea, leading to discord with his daughter.

Upon this vampiric creature Jarys would have his vengeance.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 21, 2021, 11:28:42 PM
Chapter 28 — Rage and Shadow — Of Anger and Betrayal — Part 3
Reflections

The pool before her was still.  Kiraea sat much as she had the last few days knees drawn to her breast.

All around the rich blood red of the cavern seemed strangely mocking, a colour of life and fertility she could not provide.

Words, hugs, food and company were piled upon to her to little effect as Kiraea recalled over and over what she could’ve done differently, how she could’ve protected herself and her child better.

The power of the Caverns and osmotic healing flows from the other women had mostly repaired her body…but still the emptiness remained.

The others wondered why she didn’t rage, shout, scream, surely it was more fitting for her personality.

Only Karintha understood.  Family meant so much to Kiraea it’s loss was the only thing that could dull her fiery temper.

Sitting just behind her an ever present guardian as the others visited she did not leave her niece untouched, ensuring that physical bond to her family remained.

As she did Karintha wondered how Jarys was progressing, had he found the assassins, were they People, was he forced to destroy them?

She hoped not, if he could return with two Children of the Goddesses restored to the People and the heads of those who had manipulated them it might go some way to reigniting Kiraea’s flame.

A flame whose absence was strange on Milaea’s hip.  

The discrete pouch that held her four main link orbs seemed cooler for the lack of energy in the one connecting to Kiraea.

Colder still the dark depths of the planet below.  She could feel the echoes of a battle below, but no update or instructions were forthcoming.

Jarys had been right; she had thought he would give in to bestial bloodlust, had underestimated and scorned the control he could display even in such an instinctive state.  

She had judged him a savage with her actions if not words.

Why…when he needed support the most had she been suspicious of him…the answer reflected poorly on her.  

She still thought of the other People, Sofa even, as primitive, impulsive, vengeful and violent…Dark Siders..monsters...beasts...  


And the sad reality was they were toward anyone but their own.

<<<<>>>>

Beast and Monster

The Vorynx like curled fingers met only empty shadow as Vzin delved himself deeper into the Cloak of Shadow to avoid the indelicate fury of the meal.

The endemic echoes of sound would mask any noise he made in his haste, it was only unfortunate he could not feed on the Twins while so cloaked.

A sudden glare of purple broke the shadows as Ari lit both her sabers over the Twins she had dragged together.  Injured as they were physically it seemed nothing compared to the psychological shock of the Anzat’s attempt to feed on one of them.

Ari knew more than a little of Anzat biology and the hunger for the Soup from discussions with Kazic, how it could drive an Anzat, at the most extreme, into a feral madness, even at the lower end diminish judgement and increase impulsivity – attempting to feed on those who were - form all she had observed - defending him while a threat as deadly as Jarys was still standing evidence of how the Hunger overrode logic.

Vzin sneered at the second intruder as he shifted like the breeze away from the ferocious blows of the feral male creature, he still could not detect him fully under the Cloak, but like the Twins he adapted quickly.

Another missed blow had Jarys fist smash through the concave curve of one of the innumerable columns, spraying more echoing sounds through the vast chamber, Vzin moved deftly into the space Jarys was drawing back his arm and struck.

A long almost needle like sword coated in poison pierced Jarys chest but screeched against his inhuman elongated sternum, the Anzat’s blow lacking strength enough to penetrate Aethan adult bone that hardened to its final strength from the age of 35.  

Quick as lighting Jarys grabbed the blade before Vzin could retract it and hurled a tsunami of rage driven lighting with the other hand.  The cascade was intense and caught the fringes of Vzin’s light robe over Armoured Chameo-Syth-Skin.  

He allowed the loss of the weapon, knowing its toxins would soon spread through the body – they had been designed for use against the most powerful immune systems he knew – the Twins themselves.

An unnatural fire raged in Jarys chest.  Most toxins designed for humanoids were mere irritants for Aethan immune responses, this seemed different – automatic responses were insufficient he had to dedicate a level of conscious effort to telekinetically seal the area around the wound, constricting all blood and lymphatic flows to the point the flesh would decay if left for more than a few hours.

Glaring, seeking his enemy in the howling shadows the loss of 1/6 of mental capacity revealed itself as the real damage done, his ability to cut through the endless echoes and piece together fragmentary tremors in mass, aether and near absent light diminished.

He stopped still in the midst of the swirling sounds and dust.  Let the hunter hunt Jarys reasoned, to wait for your prey was often better than pursuing it – a fact Vzin was well aware of.

The Anzat smiled at the change in tactic from brash relentless attack to still surveillance.

It merely gave Vzin the chance to continue to finish the twins' efforts wearing the creature down.

Jarys parsed through every sound, charting the wavelengths diminishing strength in echoes, matching it his eidetic memory of all that had occurred, filtering out what was old, counting out how long before other sounds would vanish, taking in the only.  

He scanned through a somewhat smaller array of scents, much of it flaked stone, fallen skin and organic matter from what might have once been books kept here…the sweats and blood of the Twins.

He felt out the mass of all nearby objects, relative positions and density, again a smaller group than sound or scents to monitor.

And finally he sought presences in the aether, there were only four, himself, Ari a light purple intensity, two doleful confused muddy red twins, stable in their brokenness.

Each level of detection, Sound, Scent, Mass and Aether took one full level of consciousness to properly assess and monitor, one to keep his chest wound sealed left him only one more to protect himself, a fact Vzin might not be aware of even as he exploited it.

Elegant blades barely a fingernails thickness comprised of a cortosis alloy sang like the wind cut straight through the flesh on Jarys exposed left arm.  

He snapped quickly to try and grab the attacker, Vzin suppressed a chuckle as he rounded to the other side and spun low ducking to drive the forearm length waif like weapons into the right join between knee and hip.

Barely halfway through responding to the first Jarys swung to try and riposte the second attack with telekinetic hammers where the hands wielding the blades should’ve been, succeeding only in shattering more floor tiles.

Jarys felt no frustration at the failure - necessity of vengeance was forcing him to learn – the addition of new sound and additional particles – from the tiles and his own blood - allowed him to better tune his mental model of the immediate environment at the expense of his body.

Ari’s eyes darted ineffectually, she couldn’t make out events barely 20 meters from her for all the noise and darkness, she felt Jarys focused as ever, but the Anzat she had briefly sensed was gone.

Saani had taught her own personalised Buried Presence technique that was the envy of the Vhal’Dan Shadows, Ari had blended it with Aethan Cloaking methods derived from Vosis – Technocracy creations based on Hississ…yet the means of Cloaking being used here eluded her still.


Time to roll a hard twelve… as five levels of her mind remained alert to her surrounds she let one slip to gently probe at the barely conscious twins minds, pushing past the shock of their defeat and betrayal to find Aethenaea Cortices very well developed, no doubt due to their twin bond, and in those fragments Ari discreetly plucked snippets of their abilities.

Vzin was beginning to make progress…another blade shallow cut into Jarys, his minds straining with vast sensory data to sift.

One final strike and the Beast would be down, Vzin sneered, then the purple saber nymph…a true feast

<JARYS!> he may not of asked for Ari’s help - but it couldn’t hurt,

A mercury trickle of knowledge passed from the faltering twins through Ari to Jarys sealing the last minor gaps in his knowledge just as Vzin deep in the Cloak of Shadow thrust forward with the killing blow, his proboscis aimed directly at the Aethan man’s nostrils.

Through the last of the damaged armour plate the Cortosis blades drove into the chest either side of the poisoned wound, the facial tentacles reaching straight up at Jarys nose…

 The Aethan head butted down.

Over the myriad echoes was an audible crack as Vzin’s brow broke and the way to unleash all his pent up rage knitted in Jarys mind at last.

The Anzat barely had time to stagger before Jarys swept his arms up knocking the Anzat’s grip from the daggers still in his chest and threw his heavy boot into the Soup drinker’s chest.

Ribs broke as the Cloak of Shadow master tumbled back.  Vzin trusted in the Cloak of Shadow so painfully perfected to dart out of the way, but four savant equivalent minds analysing the environment tuned by Ari’s input gave Jarys the code to detecting the Anzat.

Like a Tornado of bloody red fury Jarys attacked, fist, tooth, nail, knee and aether.  

(https://i.ibb.co/r79dKS2/Jarys-Overpower.jpg) (https://ibb.co/r79dKS2)
Vzin took blow after painful blow before he could even consciously register what was happening.

The Anzat’s most primal instincts began overriding reason and sentience – a reaction caused both by the imminent physical damage and danger and the utterly intoxicating wealth of Soup about him.

To Jarys astonishment the Anzat struck back with a heavy palm to the hilt of an already embedded dagger. It stoked Jarys rage further as depths of paternal protectiveness for two children lost were released as physical violence upon the body before him.

The two could barely be called ‘men’ that in the clash that followed, they tore and ripped viciously, the Anzat trying to pin the Aethan’s face and close to consume its soul, the Aethan trying to rip the head from the neck.

There was no longer any Shadow, only raw Rage as the truth of combatants were revealed in the ferocious display – a remorseless insatiable vampiric consumer of souls battering and being battered by a relentless thundering defender and avenger of his species.

On the floor the Twins slowly came to their senses, any worry Ari had they would try something was unfounded as they stared transfixed into the dark with her where their advanced senses gave them a hazy indication of the battle taking place.

The monster who had raised then betrayed them wild and rabid scratching and tearing, one arm now limp and broken, hip disjointed, foot unnaturally twisted as blood flowed from his face down in streams.

The beast - that had hunted them and now stood between them and being consumed just like all those they had offered at their ‘Sensei’s’ altar before - struck back cuts and daggers in his flesh, areas going necrotic where he had sealed away poisons intrusions from the rest of the body.  

As the bloodletting intensified Ari took one subtle step forward, her blades illuminating the scene of monstrous ravaging briefly, a wet quivering piece of muscle flung across the tiles to land at her feet, unable to tell who it belonged to she realised she couldn’t intervene without likely harming Jarys.

She didn’t need to.

Paternal instinct narrowly beat out desperate starvation, Jarys grinding the creatures face into the shattered floor, the sharp broken tiles shredding the skin from Vzin’s face.

More spasm than retaliation the Anazt sprang up to push the Aethan off, then spinning with a whirl of blood that splattered his ‘children’ lunged once more to get at the soup, ignorant of the grey skin barely being attached to his face.

The momentum hit Jarys and pushed him back, skidding till they reached a wall, Jarys back briefly touching the stone before he grasped the Anzat weary arms and spun him round, slamming the body into the ancient bricks, noxious gases breaking through the cracks.

Jarys let go of one arm and planted a hand on the creature's face, slamming it again and again into the wall while the proboscis wriggled around his fingers.

Bone broke stone - stone broke bone - the Anzat’s body sagged, Jarys kneeing the torso into the wall, then smashing each limb.

Blow after blow followed until a body shaped section of wall collapsed from the force Jarys had inflicted on it through Vzin’s flesh.

Not even thinking Jarys delivered another shattering punch that cracked the Anzat’s sternum and sent him flying out of the gaping crack and down half a kilometer into the rocky depths of the moon.

<<<<>>>>

Triage

Burgundy gases wafted in from the blood stained hole in the wall, a dim light streaming through, mercifully insufficient to make out the wounds Ari and Milaea now treated.

All three of the surviving combatants sat submissively as stitches were sewn and bacta patches applied, Milaea working on the twins, Ari on Jarys.

The echoes of the battle amplified by what few columns remained gradually died down over the hours until the twins were in a condition to move again.

Jarys breathing came in hard sharp rasps, his body almost completely covered in shatterpoint healing red from his own and Ari’s efforts, focused primarily on vaporizing the poisons from the Anzats dagger.

His eyes never moved from the twins and his daughter.

Milaea did her best not to look toward him as she patched the two would be assassins, covering them with her own prodigious healing powers. Though the physical damage was easily repaired, the loss of their ‘father’ was raw and deep.  

They had each other, and as soon as they were able grippied their hands together.

“You…”Ari’s voice of protest was dismissed by Jarys staggering up and hobbling toward the young Aethans.

Evaea gripped her brother hand tighter, looking for succour in his eyes then in the red haired woman helping them.

Milaea turned to face her father.

He brushed past, with a groan kneeling before the twins who flinched as his vast hand reached out to encompass them.

<I’m sorry…> he said telepathically, tongue far too swollen to speak as he dragged the two young Aethan into his embrace.

Shocked, tired, hurt, the pair simply flopped into his chest.

Ari watching the scene gently held Milaea’s shoulder. Milaea watched with a mix of joy, relief...and envy.

“Look after them…” Milaea said quietly looking toward the collapsed wall
“I’ll check the body,” she lied.

<<<<>>>>

The Final Betrayal

On wings of crimson fire she descended to the depths of the ravine, blocking her nose to keep black swirls of gases toxic to the vast majority of species.

There was barely enough left to constitute a body - broken bone and torn meat that housed randomly firing neurons which by some twisted curse patterned out enough to elicit enough moments of consciousness making sac of cells aware of its own suffering and wretched state.

The remnant of what had once been Vzin Kree slowly lifted from viscera coloured rocks it had fallen upon on fingers of red, leaving a good quarter of its fluids behind.

Careful jolts of energy restored a number of neurological connections common to both species, but nothing more than that.

She knew she could not truly heal a non-Aethan, and would offer nothing more than the absolute minimum.

Regardless of her intent it was sufficient to make the spurts and peaks of sentience steady enough to understand her words.

“You disgust me,” Her words were cold as the red energy trickling from her fingers warm.

“How you hunt…feed…what you intended for my family, for those who considered you family…”

Painfully Vzin felt himself held upright, gluggy fluids sloshing out of still open wounds.

“Not even my father, my other father who taught me compassion for all living things, would begrudge the Justice of ending your life.”

A tendril of red energy leapt from her index finger and stopped a cell walls width from Vzin’s still unbelievably beating heart.

“But Mercy is more important than Justice at times…for all your horrific plans, you did keep Evyn and Evaea from harm, feed them, clothe them, protect them…for that you earn this one…and by the Goddesses Only One show of mercy.”

The energy vanished back into her as Vzin crashed to the ground again.

Milaea turned away, cautious steps as the barely living thing that had been Vzin lay crippled in confusion and astonishment.

Tensing her legs to spring into Aetheric Flight she paused.

“If I, or My People ever see you again, I will turn you to dust,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 21, 2021, 11:32:18 PM
Chapter 28 — Rage and Shadow — Of Anger and Betrayal — Part 4
Re-unity

By confluence of chance and circumstance the Aephrodaea, Persephaea and Aertemisaea all returned to Aethas within 2 hours of each other, their sister ship Aethenaea in dock undergoing final repairs.

It seemed almost planned that all the smaller Karintha class transports ferried the returning Aethans to the surface at the same time.

In the Cavernous hangar of Mount Aelia four new Aethans ‘met’ for the first time.

Nyaea, still sealed unconscious in a stasis pod awaiting a more peaceful time to be awakened.

Maekal, astonished eyes spinning on a medi-sled hovering above the ground pushed along by Valens, was attempting to make sense of his bandaged wound and incredible new surroundings in reference to the ramblings of isolated prophets dead three millennia on a backwater world.

Evaea and Evyn, gripping each other for support, fearful as the day they had been ‘purchased’ by Vzin Kree, the sting of betrayal sharper than their innumerable injuries - and yet tentatively seeking the warm embrace of their lost People.

Yorna rushed to her sister Kiraea who remained covered in a thick voursus cloak of calming aetheric resonance as she recovered from her loss, Karintha enfolding them both.

Valens looked over his beaten brother, a stab of guilt he had not been there to help him, or his adoptive sister in the first place, quickly dispelled as the pair locked arms after what seemed like an age apart.

While Ari spoke to Selaena, Lya, Ada and Lydan about the events, Jenaea and Maeson handed out hastily woven baskets of real foods to Maekal, Evaea and Evyn, Sofa noted Milaea still on the ramp looking over the scene subdued, Kassyndra sensing the same discomfort in her granddaughter.

They found Milaea unwilling to speak of what had happened, both could sense in addition to the strain between her and Jarys, another secret she was keeping.

With a nod to Taryn who had been commenting on his ‘right royal wreck of a face’ Jarys went to the twins, guiding them hand on shoulders toward Kiraea.

The assassin twins looked askance at their intended victim, not wishing to imperil the reunion, but knowing it could not be avoided.

In between her sister and aunt Kiraea felt a brief flicker of burning hatred above her empty - if physically repaired - womb.  She looked into her husband's bloodshot bruised eyes as he presented the two young Aethans to her.

A brief moment of tension drew all eyes, a risk of an ongoing violent animosity between People very real.

It drained away as Kiraea reached out to take a hand from each of the twins.

She didn’t blame them for what they did in ignorance, manipulated by outsiders.  As Kiraea embraced each in turn Ari glanced quickly to Milaea, the one change that was apparent was a further galvanizing of Kiraea’s hatred for Outsiders that leached to Yorna and Karintha.

Taking tight hold of her husband next Kiraea only half parted from him when she sensed the one wound he had gained since he had left to fulfil his sacred duty of revenge which might not heal.

Wordlessly she led him over to Milaea, Kiraea would not allow her husband and little sister to be in anyway divided.  She pressed their hands together.  Jarys was not angry, only saddened, Milaea guilty for what he did - and did not know.

He looked into his daughter's eyes, a hard thing  even without the pain of his wounds...in the end he couldn’t blame her for her doubts, they had met as enemies, spent all of four years together, most of which he had spent training how to be a better warrior. 

And she was his daughter.

She didn’t want to doubt him, and now...now she had seen the man he always was beneath the fierce protective Beast.

“I’m sorry, father,” she whispered to Jarys and Kiraea tearful embrace.

<<<<>>>>

“I need to tell you something,” Milaea whispered that evening after the impromptu feast was over. 

They sat beneath the cloudless sky, purple glow of the Persephaea Nova through green nebulae, a natural fireworks display on the hill overlooking Selaena, Lydan and Adaea’s long house.

The People clustered around three fires chatting, Taryn despairing at Maekals exegesis of events, Adaea furiously measuring the twins to make them their own Mark I armour, Yorna and Melron discussing a possible expedition to the Rakattan ship on Maekals world.

Ari leaned in toward Milaea feeling the warmth of her body.

“On Dypseth...When I found Kree I...I partially healed him and let him go,”

The burden of secrecy lifted off Milaea’s breast, yet settled in part on Ari’s. Milaea looked at her expectantly.

“Oh…” was the only reply.

“You’re not mad?” there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

“No, I mean it was Jarys and Kiraea’s vengeance that…” Ari shook her head
“I know why you did it...but ultimately...I don’t think it makes a difference - Dypseth is isolated, he’ll starve or burn internally from the gases on the moon - very slowly - Kazic once said feral Anzat can live for decades even without food - a more terrible death than Jarys would’ve delivered.”

Milaea had not thought of it like that, preferring the axiom ‘where there if life there is hope’.

“I suppose you’re right,” the red clothed woman said sadly.

“You know I was thinking…” Ari said to steer the conversation away
“Anzat are solitary creatures, rare in the galaxy at best...and yet twice now they’ve been drawn to care for Aethan children…”

“I’m not sure Kazic’s motives can be compared to Kree’s,” Milaea noted, grateful for a new topic.

“No, but still considering how few Anzat and People there are…” Ari elucidated

“I see what you mean… it seems like more than coincidence in a galaxy of trillions of beings and millions of worlds to happen twice in twenty five years…” Milaea agreed
“But I can’t imagine why Anzat would be drawn to us or vice versa…”

The thought occupied their silence for the next few minutes before Ari stood and offered her hand.

“Come on, let’s go get some more sweet-rolls!”
(https://i.ibb.co/nDbz6XZ/Ari-10.jpg) (https://ibb.co/nDbz6XZ)

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 30, 2021, 06:30:36 PM
EXCELLENT action!  I have to say that I was worried that Vzin might've come off as a one-note, disposable enemy but was quickly assuaged of such: had Ari and Mili not been present, the Twins and Jarys would definitely ended up on the receiving end of twin Anzati proboscides  ;)

My favorite part though HAS to be the collective Aethan forgiveness of the Twins once they've congregated; Family is always an important touchstone in the stories that interest me and to see those once lost returned--despite HOW they arrived--is emotionally rewarding.  Additionally, we really get to see the (growing!) Aethan characters mature, such an important development when you consider everything that they've been through.  Which is why the scene between Jarys and Mili is both tender...and tragic: he is no longer "The Beast" or at least not "just."  Instead, he is a husband/brother/father in pain (in more ways than one), able to reach beyond a reaction of vengeance and, instead, deliver justice to the true culprit.  It's this kind of characterization that separates the narrative from the norm, where "Star Wars" CAN have complex characters AND still be distinctly "Star Wars."

And poor Mili..another example of how the best of intentions can lead to hell: Vzin will die a very, very painful death given Dyspeth's conditions (I REALLY like how Ari was the one to point that out; kind of a counterpoint of Ari's pragmatism vs. Mili's optimism...yet I still very much want for Mili to KEEP that optimism alive  ;)).

...Yeah, those Anzati seem to turn up in the most circumstantial roles and instances...maybe a result of the daen nosi, perhaps?  ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2021, 11:02:17 PM
Chapter 29 — The Hunted and the Hollow — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/y45McPt/sisters.png) (https://ibb.co/qJ943jK)
Sofa
“It’s him….” Her voice barely above a whisper almost lost in the ever present hum of the air filtration system in the facility deep within the outer planet of Aeda that held the Black Obelisks.

Sofa wrapped her arm around the diminutive girl's shoulder.

The signal had been ambiguous at best, an echo of a call for help to anyone or anything, but featured just enough aetheric markers to get picked up by the ever more discriminating and accurate Obelisk Array.

It had been Xani who ultimately confirmed it was an Aethan signal much to her sadness.

It was her long lost father.

Burying her head against Sofa for a final squeeze Xani then broke off and ran into the arms of Selaena opposite, her adoptive mother covering her protectively as Sofa looked to Milaea.

“Nearly 10 years old, from somewhere in the galactic ‘south east’, mid rim, I’ll see if I can narrow it down further.” The younger woman said, giving Xani a supportive squeeze on the shoulder as she left the control room, clinical blue lights and panels unfitting for the occasion.

Xani’s quiet sobbing was the only noticeable sound for a few moments, the suddenness of the remembrance of her long lost father dragging out tears by the dozen as Sofa waited for some idea what to do next.

Before realising she would have to be the one to come up with said idea. 

Everyone else seemed to have some pressing task to fulfil.

Valens, Jarys, and now increasingly Karintha, the main ‘leaders’ were deep into reintegrating Maekal, Evyn and Evaea respectively.  Melron, Lyaea, Adaea and Maeson had taken Taryn, Lydan, Kassyndra, Jenaea and Aresaea to Csilla to start their induction into the CEDF as part of their alliance obligations.  Life moving on.

Selaena would never risk Xanaea on a mission...that left only Sofa herself, Milaea, Yorna and….

“Are we going to look for him?” Xani asked plaintively

“Sweetling it may be too dangerous,” Selaena said, while Aethans could did not experience ‘fear’ as humanoids understood it, their ‘equivalent’ wariness regarding avoiding inportune outcomes was grown in recent weeks. 

Though...more accurately, a pyre of confidence and determination that had always enthused the group mind the Aethan People shared to action had been hollowed out.

Frag it Sofa missed the familiar warm blaze of Kiraea’s rambunctious, if pathologically violent, enthusiasm in the background aura of the Peoples bond.

“I’ll check it out Xani…” Sofa assured
“First I have to gather a posse…”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

The sequence of everyday for the last few weeks repeated.

Yorna would fill a small bowl with food,  take away the barely half eaten one from yesterday and place the new one before her sister who sat like an indifferent statue gazing into the cavern walls.

Neither she nor Kiraea had left the sacred cavern since her return from Maekals broken world to her emotionally shattered homeworld..

Kiraea had left only twice since she first arrived here just over a month ago.

Kiraea’s face bore thin pink traces of her wounds during the devastating events that had caused her depression, thicker dried red beneath the gossamer robe contraste with increasingly white sun starved skin.

“Please Kiri,” Yorna pleaded, kneeling before her sister placing Kiraea’s limp hands within her own.

“Try to eat a little more today,”

Aethan biology and the healing power of the caverns should’ve repaired all of Kiraea’s physical wounds by now had she been consuming enough nutrients.

The strange effects of the Rakattan ship on Maekals world had put Yorna and Valens out of contact in the immediate aftermath of Kiraea’s loss, she was now determined to make up for that by caring for her sister personally.

Said sister remained still, ice where there had once been fire, a contrast painful to witness.

With a sad sigh Yorna patted her sister's knee and went to see to the candles that lit the cavern with aetheric blue, each simmering low.

Soft footsteps drew an aura that was a curious mix of care and begrudgingly dramatic fatigue at having to do the slightest task.

“Sofa,” Yorna whispered in greeting, she still hadn’t worked out her new sister in law, and though happy Sofa provided great comfort and affection to Val, could not understand how two so variant personalities got along.

“Any change?” the dark haired woman asked
Yorna shook her head as she fed power into the aether candle.
“She ate 5 grams more yesterday but...still hasn’t spoken in days”
“We’ve got a signal, Milaea is tracking it, with everyone else busy I was wondering if you’d help me check it out, and I thought…” Sofa nodded her head toward the deeper cavern where Kiraea was becoming a permanent feature.

Yorna shrugged,
“We can only try,” she said as they headed back toward Kiraea.

The pallid, still, gaunt figure staring at the wall appeared the mirror opposite of the vibrant, pulsing woman Sofa had met five years ago, who had poked and prodded her after her full genetic realignment, and insisted on sharing every imaginable personal detail with as part of learning the appropriate ‘Rties’ to manage Sofa’s new reproductive systems.

Walking forward slowly but firmly Sofa couldn’t even smell Kiraea.  All Aethan women were taught in the Rite how to control their release of Pheromones to use strategically as another method of communication with women or to emphasize their control of men - unashamed of her own cyclical and arousal changes Kiraea rarely masked or managed hers at all...Kiraea always added a pleasant sweet tang scent to a room.

“Kiraea, the obelisks have picked up another signal, we need to look into it straight away, Xani is convinced it is from her father.”

Sofa kept her tone gentle but words direct, she doubted Kiraea wanted to be pitied, and knew from her counsellor training among the Jedi at a certain point it was better to start treating grieving person as though they were as they had been in situations unrelated to their trauma.

Kiraea didn’t make any obvious motions, and only gradually met Sofa’s gaze.

The former Jedi felt a chill at the emptiness of her sister in laws green eyes and aura.

“I think it’s a good idea Kiri,” Yorna supported, “A change of scene and who knows maybe another rescue” she tried to be upbeat

“Or even a chance to knock some outsider heads together,” Sofa said with a smile

Kiraea at last reacted with an brief incredulous sneer toward the dark haired woman, knowing full well Sofa wouldn’t countenance violence against outsiders just for being outsiders.

It was not a positive reaction, but it was a reaction.

“Where?” Kiraea’s voice was raspy from underuse and dehydration.

“Milaea is zeroing in, somewhere to the galactic south west,”

With a sigh and stiff joints Kiraea stood buoyed by the emotional insistence of her two sisters.

“Alright…I need to clean up first…”

Kiraea shuffled off to one of the annexes where fresh melt water constantly streamed in creating natural - if in Sofa’s opinion utterly freezing - showers, beside geothermal pools to warm up in afterwards.

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Yorna said to Sofa, still staring at where her sister had been sitting.
“...I haven’t been here, don’t understand all she’s been through these last twenty years…I don’t know how to help her,”

She turned fully to Sofa,

“Val said you know of such things from your time with the Jedi, is there anything you can do to help, Aunty and I have tried everything….”

“I learned counselling and psychological therapy for humanoids, and to be honest a lot of those concepts just don’t apply to People…”

Disappointment was evident on Yorna’s face

“I‘ll do what I can...I never thought I’d say this but I really miss the old Kiraea,”

<<<<>>>>
Kiraea

Things happened, patterns of motion and the changing of the physical environment about her.

She was in the familiar briefing room in Mount Aelia, a place she had been a dozen times before yet never truly seen.

Now every detail seemed to hold some strange novelty as she wondered if the chairs, lights, holo controls had always been there.  had she been in here before>  Had she sat in this room with life within her. Was this seat a mute witness that noticed the change in her weight?

Did it feel the absence as keenly as she did?

Milaea spoke about various things, intersecting lines, aetheric drift patterns, transaction records from Muunilist...words that flowed around Kiraea like oil around water.

The young woman brought up an image with little aurebesh symbols that read the Kashyyyk system of the Mytaranor sector of the Mid Rim.

Had that moon been there the whole time, before she was born, after her baby had died?

She saw the line of concern crease Milaea’s face each time she looked at her, and follow her out of the room as she drifted to the armoury.

Kiraea stood still for a moment as she looked at her suit, unblemished.  Blackstone plating and Dura-Kevlar weave over the torso both more than capable of deflecting a direct blow from a light saber…

Would it have resisted the phase dagger that had sliced into her womb?

She would always ask that question.  Always despise her foolishness to sit wearing only a gossamer chiton on the nature deck beside Nyaea.

Her hand reached out and took the under suit, muscle memory performing the tasks of arming herself behind the light eating plate without her conscious input as she let her mind return to the nothingness that was its preferred abode - the hollowness of what had been her hope and joy where the infinite expanse of nihilism could surround her with numb cold.

The Hollow she called it, though to give an absence a  name seemed slightly absurd.

She drifted in the nothing of the Hollow till a spark of blue caused her to realise she was on a destroyer's bridge watching the ship tunnel into hyperspace.

Yorna in the command chair to her front and left rattled off hours and minutes before arrival, turned and knelt before Kiraea as if paying homage to the goddess of the barren womb, imploring her to rest and eat before they arrived.

If Kiraea stepped out of the Hollow she would feel the hunger and thirst of her body, the bristling discomfort of her limbs, raw nagging phantom pains that reminded her so much of the loss.

So she stayed in there, as long as she could.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2021, 11:06:33 PM
Chapter 29 — The Hunted and the Hollow — Part 2
(https://i.ibb.co/6ZFpnys/Hyper-Side.png) (https://ibb.co/H2qMFKg)
Sofa
“It’s the lack of effort I don’t understand….” Yorna huffed out as she passed under Sofa’s weaving sword in the gymnasium as they waited for the next jump to .

It had to be said Trandosha was an odd place to get a signal from, Milaea’s reasoning was solid based on the evidence they had from the array, but still Sofa held a slight hope it might be misdirected from Kashyyyk itself.

“Normally Kiri would be so animated, so determined to keep going even when she was chucking up from Gormin Flu!”

Yorna came round with her training saber, the lack of weight of the ‘lightsabers’ feeling quite weird to her, It crackled on Sofa’s blade with odd noises that Yorna disliked for their artificiality, but still she knew she had to learn.

“It’s like she is not even there…” Yorna pressed in the lock and jabbed her foot to try and trip the former Jedi, who responded in kind with a ‘slap’ like telekinetic womp on the side of Yorna’s face.  

Yorna largely ignored that, but couldn’t avoid the spiking telekinetic thrusts up from the ‘ground’ that forced her to switch footing, at which point Sofa pressed on the locked blades to wrong food her further, then suddenly pulled back, Yorna over corrected.  Sofa twisted out and elbowed her in the breast sending her skidding.

That hurt far less than the discomfort of seeing her sister so detached.

“Hnnnh...good one,” Yorna smiled as she crouched looking out for an in.

“It works,” Sofa shrugged her guard still up “Sometimes,”

Yorna moved low, fast and forward, then feinted to the left, catching Sofa slightly off guard, before pushing her own telekinetic attack, Sofa’s kinetic shield took the brunt but needed reinforcement to keep her from being knocked over.

Their blades clashed and twriled buffeted by the Telekinetic push and pull, their grips tightening to avoid the ethereal newtons spinning them off wildly.

Yorna was skilled to begin with and catching up fast to everyone else, her speed and dexterity much like Kiraea’s, her aetheric powers more focused but lacked the intensity of her sister so far as Sofa could tell.

It was still enough to match her blow for blow as he sparring session continued on inconclusively, Yorna’s beginning to mirror more of Sofa’s moves makin it feel she was fighting a reflection of herself, to the point they both spuns in wide open stances and into a pushing slash technique.

Once more both pushed against the  others power, stances wide, blades high behind their heads as their front hand opened out pushing a wall of kinetic energy at the other.

Evenly matched the hardened doonium floor began to creak as they slowly slid further apart on their heels.

Sofa’s mouth curled as Yorna’s eyes narrowed each trying to outdo the other.  Simultaneously both hurled their blades with unnerving precision that set the tip of Sofa’s sword grinding into the tip of Yorna’s Saber in between them, both weapons juddering and deconstructing in the kinetic confluence.

Crackling sparks of energy began to fill the repulsive gap between them, sky blue from Sofa, Yorna’s with a purple tinge.

“Call it a draw...or we might break something…” Sofa strained

Yorna nodded.  The tension released with a gush of displaced air that shook the equipment racks nearby.

Both quickly recovered,

“Pick things up quick,” Sofa complimented

“Val showed me a few things already, they are not so different from what I learned before…”

“‘Val’,” Sofa scoffed after a sip of water
“Never heard anyone call him that before you, you were close as kids?”

Yorna nodded
“Myself, Val, Jay, Kiri, Cori too - Taran’s nephew - though he wasn’t around as often and younger than Kiri,”

Sofa blurted out her drink
“‘Jay!’, frell…I never imagined Jarys looking like a ‘Jay’”

Yorna just giggled removing her sweat stained shirt, again Sofa saw Kiraea in perfect imitation in Yorna’s figure, only their facial features were different, each of the sisters could be said to emphasize certain aspects of their aunt Karintha’s features...or Karintha was a combination of both of them if one invented the generations.

“Oh he’s just a Voursus cub deep down…” her countenance fell at the thought of the uncomfortable parting when they had left half a day before.

As soon as Kiraea had left the caverns Jarys had been waiting outside to see her.  Kiraea barely paid him any notice, merely shrugging indifferently when he asked if he might accompany them.

“That must’ve hurt him,” Yorna went on

“He loves your sister as an Aethan male should,” Sofa agreed, being so dismissively ignored had to hurt.

“I thought she was feeling better when he got back, she forgave Evyn and Evaea, insisted Jarys an Milaea reconcile…” Yorna explained shaking her hair out
“She just went back to the caverns and...stagnated...didn’t care if he came or went....I just can’t explain it.”

If there was a reason Jarys hadn’t joined them it was he interpreted her indifference as instruction to leave her alone, to not intrude on women’s business.

There was more than worry and confusion on Yorna’s face, there was guilt - guilt she had not been there for her sister, not just in protecting her child, but long long before that.  

Yorna had missed 25 years of her sisters life, Kiraea had grown without and away from her in ways Yorna couldn’t catch up with.

A close family divided by decades of wounds.

“I think,” Sofa said, shuffling out of her own outfit as they headed toward the refresher
“She’s forgiven everyone, Evyn, Karintha, even Jarys for taking that Anzat dren lickers head without her...everyone but herself,”

<<<<>>>>

They entered the Kashyyyk system through a seldom used drop zone, stealth systems on the Persephaea activated immediately to mask their presence.

It had been a nearly three day trip all up, Kiraea still wandering aimlessly, Yorna still at a loss of what to do, and Sofa stuck between them - growing increasingly frustrated at Kiraea’ indifference and sad at Yorna’s guilty impotence to help.

They glided low along the systems plane avoiding the main traffic lanes to the forest world which sat in their aetheric senses tall and proud as the Worrshyr tree’s upon it.

As no one else volunteered it was up to Sofa to narrow the signal they held in the recording orb.  Locking it into a plinth in the Aetheric Nexus she scryd out the wafer thin echoes of a scream sent forth ten years or more before.

But something became apparent as she cobbled the remnants together, it wasn’t just one voice...but three…

<Girls can I get a hand in here,> she called

Unsurprisingly only Yorna arrived and added her mind to Sofa’s to help analyse the signals.  The nominally younger woman’s mind was focused and sharp, Sofa could tell she was concealing her more troubled feelings so as not to put Kiraea off if she wished to talk.

Yorna confirmed there were multiple threads, and between them they were able to find the rough location.

Three dots around Trandosha, the fifth planet in the system, in positions that perfectly aligned to the orbit of the moon Wasskha at different times of the year.

“They all came from that moon, but not at the same time or from the same Person…” Sofa said now leaning over the holo projection of the moon in the strategium.  

“Could they have taken refuge there?” Yorna asked as Kiraea stared blankly at the scene.

“Knowing Trandoshan’s, I doubt it, they’re hunters, vicious ones, almost as zealous as the damn Vong about finding worthy victims…” Sofa didn’t have any trouble putting two and two together, the worst possible scenario was often closest to reality after all.

“Does that note not say ‘nature preserve?” Yorna sought to clarify based on the text scrolling from the on board database - a collection of mainly Vhal’Dan records Kiraea had taken with her along with Ari from Galtea...using Kazic Ovarug’s personal codes to access the Galtean mainframes…

“Probably a euphemism for hunting grounds,” Sofa’s stomachs sank ever further as she put together the streams of data the myrian holo’s and screens were presented regarding the species, planet, intel reports from a kidnapping incident some thirty years before.

It appeared less a rescue than a retrieval.

The only good news was the moon was not defended in any systematic way, getting ground side undetected to continue their investigation would be easy in a transport ship, and as the moon was not permanently occupied, they shouldn’t encounter any opposition…

Normally Sofa’s main worry would be if they did find People had been hunted on this world Kiraea would be baying for blood and she’d have to wrestle her off firing Shikkar’s at Trandosha itself.

Kiraea was far from normal.

“Nothing more we can learn from this, suit up, we take a transport ground side in 4 hours,”

<<<<>>>>

Ins’skas
He knelt before the open fire that sat in the center of the Jagannath Chamber.

Around the dusty red stone walls sat the trophies that were evidence of Ins’skas horde of Jagganth Points -skulls, horns, dried hides, shrunken heads - the markers of accomplishment that the Great Goddess, the Scorekeeper, demanded be accumulated to gain a place of honour in the Jungles of the Eternal Hunt.

Unclothed, the Tranoshan held his leathery reptilian arms over the fire, a wookie pelt in his grasp.

His large nostrils flared as the scent of burning fur filled the room as he made his offering.  

Ins’skas always observed the Old Rite, to sacrifice one Jagganth to the Goddess after every hunt - even if he only took one pelt or scalp, still he gave it.  The young and foolish neglected the sacrifice, hoarding the Jagganth, not understanding it was the Scorekeeper who once appeased would deliver an abundance of Jagganth to her worshippers.

The fire did not burn his scales, they were already black from decades of such sacrifices, and the thick muscle beneath inured to the pain.  The Goddess had blessed him, his Jagganth doubling each decade, those of his spawn that followed his path also of great Jagganth.

The pelt slowly flaked to ash in his claws, the wordless sacrifice complete he buckled his most prized trophies to him.  Four pelts of Wookie Berserkers, the dried lekku of a strange single lekku humanoid, Beskar’gam chest plate of a Mandalorian, and more than all this, inlaid wherever possible on his armour, the Skulls and Bones of the three Davjäan Guage as he termed them in Dosh - Burning Alien.

Strong as wookies, and much faster, he had first encountered a Davjäan Guage on Zyggeria, frothing in chains, raving like mad, he had purchased it along with over two dozen others for his next season's hunt.

As always he scattered the prey upon Island Eight of Wasskah, moon of Trandosha, his Clan’s private hunting ground.  To his astonishment when he returned a month later to begin the hunt - as always allowing the prey time to prepare, there was no Jagganth in a mere culling - the Davjäan Guage had killed them all.

Glorying in the challenge Ins’skas had hunted the creature a full season, losing one foot and an eye - since regrown - to the create that had lit its body in an eldritch blue fire before it died earning it the moniker Davjäan.

The Jagganth he had felt in the black of his bones as he tore into the scorched flesh to pry out the skeletal trophy was euphoric, He pledged it all to the Scorekeeper despite his spawns misgivings, but vowed he would keep the next for himself.

It had been years but finally he found two more, another from the Zygerrians and a third, the only female, among a crowded vessel of refugees from a forgotten outer rim warzone one of his spawn had taken mercenary work in.

Delivered to Island eight he hunted each in turn, hard bitter nights deep in the monsoon against the second male, crippling humidity of the Growing Season against the female, both were successes.

He left the pyre to continue to burn as he exited the Jagganth chamber to find one of his spawn, third -eldest waiting him.

Ins’skas had many spawn, females were drawn to those of great Jagganth, he mated as opportunity arose, and when some of the spawn sought him he would permit them to join him on the hunt.  

He didn’t bother to remember the names of his spawn, so many of them died on the hunt, only their rank in age

“Blood-Giver,” Third-eldest sniffed, head jutted upward to expose his neck in a sign of submission as well as the formal title of paternity.

“A vessel, unknown to us has landed upon the Hunting Grounds of our Clan....you will give thanks to the ScoreKeeper to see what our spy droids have recorded of them,”

Third eldest was the most pious of his spawn, snivelling so at times, he would learn. Or die. Ins’skas cared not.

“Show me who petrubs our sacred jungles,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2021, 11:08:18 PM
Chapter 29 — The Hunted and the Hollow — Part 3

Yorna
(https://i.ibb.co/djxnBCq/vornyx-fighter-17-ft-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/XjMmX0g)
The ‘tracks’ from the Recording Orb stopped above one of the moon’s southern hemisphere islands as they cruised across the planet, stealth drives active, in a Karintha Class Transport.

Keeping high enough over the canopy to avoid ruffling the dark green frond like leaves Yorna couldn’t sense any more specific place where the People might have been.

It was as though beneath the tree tops her aetheric senses suddenly ‘stopped’.

“Do you feel that Kiri?” She asked to her left,

“hmmm…” Kiraea stared oblivious through the view screen that simulated a view port   

“The aether seems very strained near the trees, lime Gosalam null fields, but not as encompassing, have you ever felt anything like it?” Yorna tried to pry some conversation from her sister

Kiraea just shrugged.

“I’ll find somewhere to land, can you run me through the procedure?”

With a half Sigh Kiraea complied, speaking only occasionally mainly showing her the controls to land with all the enthusiasm of a dozing gormin,

Settling down in small rocky clearing just big enough for the transport, she checked the atmosphere and lowered the ramp, Sofa now joining them. 

The humid swelter of southern Waaskah hit them immediately, the air wet with humidity from evaporation of moist earth covered in thick leaf matter being digested by myriad insects, fungi and bacteria.  The majority of the larger flora were   Arecaceae, with large compound evergreen leaves atop enormous thick layered trunks, below them up to 5 meter high ferns and then an underlayer of smaller shrubs with prickly thick leaves ranging from orange to purple.

Most prominent of all was the absence of the aether.

Stepping onto the gluggy wet jungle floor Yorna felt the loss of the familiar power, so much a part of herself immediately.

“Whoa….no wonder we couldn’t sense anything lower down…hmmm…”

She pulled a shikkar and held it in front, reaching to grip it with her mind as easily as breathing. 

Releasing her grip the glass dagger however for a few moment as she tugged hard on the aether.  it warbled and wavered for twenty seconds, then fell, her swift reflexes catching it before it hit the ground.

“That’s gonna make things hard,” Sofa sighed as Yorna huffed from the exertion of levitating a dagger for merely a few seconds - the aether was not absent, but it was throttled in its flow.

Unclasping her helmet Yorna sniffed the air,

“Have to track using our physical senses…”

Ever curious and undaunted by any risk she knelt and scooped up a handful of rotted leaf matter and dirt. She rubbed it between her fingers focusing what aetheric senses she could with her thermal vision and sense of mass.  The closer she moved it toward her the stronger the choke hold on the aether was.

“Here...in the dirt...some kind of microorganism...its drawing on the aether itself, soaking it all up before anything else does…”

Sofa scrunched her nose
“Does that limit us to what we have within us?”

Every being held a certain store of Aetheric energy, the technocracy labelled it an Aeth value, of course generally the best way to use the aether was to draw on it directly from the environment all the time.

“I think so, Kiri what do you…”

Her sister was leaning against the side of the ship,

“Kiri!” Yorna leapt over unable to feel her sister in the aether as normal...and that she realized had to be the issue.

Without easy access to the aether, Kiraea was left without the subconscious healing and numbing effects it could provide, exposing her to the full force of the unstable mix of hormones swirling in her body.

While Kiraea was, so far as tissues and organs were concerned, healed, her body was still hormonally imbalance, having been flung from a reproductive state to heightened survival, then back down to repair in the space of mere hours - as efficient as Aethan biology was at tailoring their hormonal balances were to their environment, such dramatic shifts had caused over excitement and left her with hormone balances that were only slowly rebalancing.

Kiraea staggered slightly into her arms
“I...can feel it vanishing…”
“The aether? We’ll leave right now,”
“No...my...my...baby…”

Yorna’s eyes widened, was Kiraea truly so far gone she was only just realizing the fact?  She looked briefly to Sofa who stared just as intently.

“I feel her in my veins...but she’s going again!” Kiraea shuddered

Her veins…. Pieces fell together in Yorna’s head, it was quite possible there were still some traces of foetal blood in her system, especially considering her limited food intake recently, persistently trying to sustain itself, without the aether it would be quickly reabsorbed.

Desperate to stop the re-lived trauma Yorna was about to push Kiraea back into the ship when she stopped dead.

“Oh Vorynx…” painfully gripping her sister she hurled her with all her strength into the jungle then leapt to cover her before she’d even hit the ground.

A blinding white-yellow flare struck dead on the top of the Transport, sizzling overhanging leaves and frond.

The ground shook as the ship was hammered into the ground, the repulsors that levitated it over the soil only punching deeper in reflex.

A second and third blast followed seconds later, the ground sinking inot a crater as the ship was bored further down, the strange scent of superheated minerals in the air as the Blackstone hull was superheated by the turbo laser blasts.

Yorna hauled herself and sister up, treading through the broken foamy ground to gain distance as fast as she could, caching a glimpse of Sofa likewise making for a denser copse of trees.

Behind she heard the shrieking whine of energy cracking air as a fourth and fifth shot hit the ship.  The Fourth heated the blackstone and delivered enough kinetic damage to cause it to fracture, the fifth expanded those fractures to arms width.  resilient as Blackstone was even it couldn’t survive five direct hits from an Orbital bombardment capable Turbolaser.

As she felt the heat behind her and felt the spread of fire in the foliage, resisted by the humidity, she dove again on top of Kiraea as the sixth blast hit.

The transport finally succumbed slagged from the centre out, a blue white explosion lighting the jungle from the laser punched crater.

Heated chunks boiled down as shrapnel spat up, Yorna rolled to avoid a superheated blob of doonium that slowly hissed in the wet dirt till it settled as dead as their one way of getting off world.

With a groan Yorna rolled over, coming face to face with a hovering metal insect the size of her head with a glassy green eye.

 
<<<<<>>>>

Ins’skas

Three of them.

Three Davjäan Guage females had landed right on his Clans hunting grounds, as if begging to offer their Jagganth to him.

The Seeker Droids always alert for any changes to the biosphere had detected the landing, Third eldest had been observant in picking up the alarm and quickly positioned them to attack.

The closest droid stared into the face of one of them, the human like face gazed back through the screen with curiosity for a moment...then sweep of black static filled the screen as the droid went offline.

His tongue flickered from his harsh lips, the scales around his face cracked and chipped, but hard as durasteel.

The whine of the  Lllsssak’s - Consumer in old Dosh - turbo-lasers diminished as the cannon powered down, their intrusive vessel destroyed they were trapped on the surface, the other seekers would maintain a larger distance and track their movements.

“No other vessels detected Blood-Giver,” Second eldest, a more cerebral spawn talented with machinery said standing at the command lectern.

First, Fourth and Fifth eldest stood around the bridge, slathering over the prey that had come to them.

“Father, I will bring the head of one to the Scorekeeper, the second to you, the third alone for myself!” First eldest boomed with pride.

“Jetar madle” Ins’skas snapped at the arrogance more than the informality of the word ‘Father - meat maggot an insult to all Trandoshans to be compared to a creature that passively eats and does not hunt. That one’s Egg-layer had always been too prideful and it showed in the spawn.

“You would swear to take that which is mine to allot?”

First raised his neck in submission

“Forgiveness,”

Striding over Ins’Skar slashed him across the neck with his claws, drawing blood, albeit only thinly from beneath the scales in his admonishment.

“The Scorekeeper has blessed the Bloodgiver for his sacrifices,” Third sniffed haughtily
“He shall determine who, if any, hunt,”

Second and Fourth’s nostrils flared in indignation, their Egg-layer was ‘cosmopolitan’, a weakling thing that lived in a city now, her lack of respect for the old ways flowed in their blood.

What a variegated, disappointing spawn he had created over the decades, truly the Egg-layers ahd failed to transmit his strength untainted, none had the Jagannth to succeed him, only First and Fourth had Elder wookies Berserker shown on their bodies, the others only weakling warrior pelts.

Ins’skas could use this opportunity to weed out the weak.

“One day,” he finally hissed.
“Till next sunrise you have to hunt before I descend, he who claims a head I will honour with a name,”

The entirety of his spawn hissed in adulation,

“He who dies will be skinned and sent back to their Egg-layer labelled Jetar madle,”

The spawn growled at the thought of such dishonour, a death that would tear from them all Jagganth earned in life, leaving them no place in the Eternal Hunt.

They had sought him out to learn and find a place with their Blood-giver, they should have anticipated he would try them hard.

“You await what?” he hissed “Go! now, the prey does not sit idle!”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

(https://i.ibb.co/mT6xZpr/Yor-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/mT6xZpr)

The first goal was reaching high ground. 

Communication orbs were offline due to the ubiquitous bacteria, conventional cooms struggled beneath the canopy.

She knew as soon as they missed their next scheduled check in with Aethas in four hours a ship would be sent to recover them...of course how long it took them to arrive could vary between 12 hours and four or five days depending on the endless nova storms of the deep core.

Still Yorna hoped she could contact home as soon as possible, the eclectic buzz of another droid nearby the key reason.

Pausing on a branch she was crouched upon, she spun in a single motion drawing and loosing an arrow that struck the glass green eye sending the droid tumbling in clanking spams to the ground.

She leapt down to recover her arrow, the lack of the aether denying her the ability to teleport them back. There was little to be learned from the droids, they transmitted their observations and followed ‘non native motive organisms’ but nothing more.

Something was watching them, the same something that had destroyed their ship.  The sooner they were away from that something the better.

Leaping across the jungle she continued scouting for a way to the lone chain of mountains in the distance, covered in green they showed only a slight rocky brown tip, barely 2000 meters high they paled to anything on Aethas but would have to do.

Her true hope was the effects of the Aether eating microorganisms would be diminished above the moss and vine line, enabling her to summon the Persephaea with the aether.

Some twenty minutes behind her Sofa had found a small hollow in which to wait with Kiraea who was struggling with the rawness of the direct experience of her body metabolizing the last of her pregnancy hormones without the aether to numb the effect.

<I think,> Sofa had thought privately to Yorna before she headed off
<she was keeping those hormones and foetal blood preserved with the aether...maybe it was subconscious, a normal protective mechanism…> Sofa gave a mental sigh

<Kiraea is the one I would usually ask about all this kind of weird hormone magic>

Yorna had to agree <Part of a babies development is in the aether, cultivating their aura, given the traumatic way the baby was lost the normal processes were damaged.>

Plucking the arrow out she continued on her journey, moving swiftly over the ground, her senses primed for any attack.  Even without the aether she was still possessed of a powerful suite of senses and abilities, more than able to avoid the few small feline carnivores she had seen and traverse the dense foliage with little difficulty. 

Compared to Aethas the jungle was tame, and to her scents somewhat imbalanced.  There seemed to be a lack of large predators, those she had caught in her peripheral vision were at most a meter long, and all seemed sleek and fat with food, somewhat lazy in their reflexes.  It was as if any large fauna had been culled to extinction.

Reaching the foot hills she paused in her swift leaps as something incongruous with the ecosystem caught her eye.

Slowing her approach she crept through chest high ferns and around trunks approaching it.

Hanging from a branch was the swaying frayed remains of some clothing, long since bleached of colour, the plastic sheen of artificial fibers obvious to her eyes. There was a stronger scent of decay nearby that she followed with all the confidence her curiosity could muster.

Parting a screen of leaves and vines overgrowing a narrow gap in between two large boulders she found the remnants of an old camp, a central area with charred dirt and stone circles where there had been numerous fires, discarded chairs and boxes...and all around the edge of the small clearing were bones tied to bamboo shafts rammed into the ground.

Hundreds of them.  None the same as another, differing numbers of limbs and cranial shapes - if indeed they had them at all - a galactic necro-zoo turning yellow, brown, and in some cases a weird blue - as they decayed.

It seemed like a hunting camp, but she couldn’t understand why the bodies were strung up like enemies, displays of enemy dead needed to be prominent, not hidden away, and if they were hunting they would take all the valuable bones with them for crafting into tools.

Wandering through the camp she searched for anything of use, always keeping an eye on the bodies that swayed listlessly as the wind picked up, clattering like windchimes as bones knocked together.

She quickly deduced a vast majority of the creatures here could not be native, were too ill suited for this island and the others on this moon…

Why bring these creatures here just to kill them?

Kiraea might understand, she knew so much more about outsiders...twenty five years more…
 
Finding only objects of novelty not practicality she turned to head on.

As she reached the narrow entrance three blaster bolts hit her in the back with red blazing anti-heat.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2021, 11:10:01 PM
Chapter 29 — The Hunted and the Hollow — Part 4
Sofa
She looked like a death stick addict coming off a high, face usually slightly flush with rage, pallid, a thin amount of sweat on her brow.

At least, Sofa thought, Kiraea was being compliant, though more in a mindless zombie way as they kept mobile, avoiding the hovering drones as best they could.

Sofa understood the need to take time to recover, to process grief and trauma in your own time.  With their ship destroyed, tracking drones following them and no access to the majority of their powers, there was no time. Sofa needed - for her own survival - Kiraea her usual fiery, violent and yes bitchy self.

With Yorna scouting a head, she might not get another chance to say what she needed to say.

“I know what it’s like...to feel like you’ve lost control of your body...to wonder over and over again what you could have done different, could you have fought harder, been somewhere else….and in the end you feel like you are the one who did this to yourself because you weren’t enough, and never will be,”

She didn’t bother to look back, just assumed she was listening.

“The only person you control is you, so you place all the responsibility on yourself for what happened,”

She snorted
“But it’s dren, you don’t control yourself, things happen to us all the time we have no conscious agency in permitting...”

Sofa glanced around checking her surroundings best she could in a strange place with no aetheric sense beyond an inch from her skin.

“But I know however much you get told, however much you know it intellectually you won’t feel it….I don’t either - I still blame myself for what happened when I was young, that I froze, didn’t say anything for so long after…”

Stopping she turned round to look her straight in the eyes

“The question is how long are you gonna let yourself feel only that emptiness? I mean come on, I know you, frell sometimes I wish I didn't, and this is not you,” she spread her arms with a dramatic twirl

“You should be ranting, raving to cut somethings head off or burn a city down, not just crawling into a ball and waiting to die,”

Kiraea’s mouth twitched in annoyance as words sharp and black pierced the vacant colourless realm of the Hollowness.

“You can’t understand, never felt life growing inside you, relying on you to protect it and then feeling your own organs digest the remains of the child I couldn’t protect,”  her teeth grinding with each word,  being dragged from the Hollow and forced to feel by this forsaken dump of a moon and the irritating psycho babble of Sofa

“Anger, that’s more like it, come on then how much don’t I know tell me all about it,”

“Shut up, I don’t owe you or anyone anything!” the Hollow filled painfully with sensation.

Time to be cruel to be kind

“Not your husband who feels you’ve checked out, not your sister who feels your more dead now than she was, not your baby who would be ashamed to have such a wimp for a mother,”

“BITCH!” the word was drowned out the grating crack of Blackstone on Blackstone as Kiraea punched Sofa in the head.

The rush of anger catalysing her metabolism only sped the painful recycling of what Kiraea’s body considered unnecessary hormones and partially foreign blood cells, shaving off ever more of the lingering cellular monument to her loss Kiraea carried with her.

It only infuriated her more as she lost her child over and over again in time with the blows she rained on the only figure nearby, balled up avoiding any major injury from her fury.

The reptilian double blinking eyes upon them could hardly believe their luck as they launched their ambush.

<<<<>>>>

Cumbersome as the Hades pistols were to Yorna’s aesthetic preferences, they were effective, her three shots as her body twisted almost in complete opposition to the direction of her legs blasting through the reptilian's body.

After the ambush in the hunting camp she had been on the run pursued by at least six, probably eight, creatures her HUD scanner identified helpfully as ‘Trandoshan’.

Their first volley of fire had mercifully been unable to penetrate her Blackstone armour, and she hadn’t allowed any more to connect fully since, only taking minor grazes and nicks.

Whatever Yorna’s advantage in speed, dexterity and equipment, it was more than offset by her hunters numbers and knowledge of the landscape.

They had hunted across every inch of the island, knew all the quickest paths over stable fallen logs, which patches were muddy and slow, where the path would narrow or broaden enabling them to position far better and unleash their controlled spurts of rifle fire.

As more shots hit, sheer Aethan physical speed began to gain her distance as she became more comfortable with the terrain and better able to spot the choke points and soggier patches of ground.

Ducking under a string of leaf covered vines then leaping over a fallen log she twisted mid air to fire four more shots, her physiology and neurology primed every second was experienced as almost ten allowing her to hit with three shots.

With each death she inflicted the others only became more zealous to take her head as her Jagganth increased by the rough value of the hunter she had just slain.

Bristling at the limitation her helmet imposed to her senses she judged with the greater distance the net benefit of removing it and increasing her olfactory, thermal, and visual senses exceeded the risk of exposure.

Her nose filled with scents and visual thermal overlay double in acuity as she locked the helmet to her back.  holstering the pistols she grabbed a large tree truck and spun round before rapidly vaulting herself to look down and see three vanguard hunters close by, five behind them. 

They all had a similar slightly rotten reptilian stench indicating familial relations.  They were followed by a swarm of tracing drones painted dull browns and greens for camouflage.

Her eyes narrowed on the artificial things as she pounced off the trunk drawing her bow whose aim she trusted far more than the pistols.  With uncanny precision she fired off all six arrows as she fell, each shattering a drone as she arced down straight onto one hunter.  He tried to dodge, she extended her knee to impact his long face on the horizontal, wrecking the jaw into a pulp of bloody teeth and gum.

She had barely landed when she spun to use the bow limbs to smack another across the knees then followed through a spin to crack the neck.  releasing one hand she pulled a shikkar and hurled the dagger into the third hunters right eye, it screamed as she closed the gap to finish it her bow used like a club.

The other hunters slowed their pursuit as they smelt the fresh blood of their own kind on the air.

Yorna wasted no time extending her lead.

<<<<>>>>

Ins’skas

The arrow was heavier than it ought to be, what it was made of he could not tell.  Regardless it had cut through the drone and a tree trunk before stopping in a solid boulder.

His spawn hissed joyously as they left him behind, already six of their number gone.

The weakness of arrogance adequately punished he thought.

The Jagganth of this one would be exceptional, the gear acquired from the corpses valuable. 

He doubted his spawns ability to attain it.

<<<<>>>>

Kiraea

They were a tangle of limbs in a downpour of projectiles and energy blasts.

She scratched and clawed through the bombardment that thumped against every limb through her armour, looking up to see the leering hideous faces of Transoshans,, half with ocular enhances that glowed red firing on her.

Indignation trickled up her spine at their interruption of her sisterly ‘disagreement’ with Sofa. 

The former Jedi was a bitch, unco-operative, self-indulgent and always brought the worst in Kiraea when they clashed.

Muscle memory more than conscious effort righted and moved through the literal fire as a spray of green tinged yellow spurted from the side crackling the soggy ground dry in an instant.

But for the fact she was already in an aroused state trying to get Sofa she might’ve taken too long to snap to attention to escape the fusillade - if she had at all…

Even as she ran, Sofa in parallel, she wondered if it was worth it at all.

Her legs moved, head ducked, torso twisted through vines and branches under the guidance of instincts that demanded she keep surviving.

The jungle flashed before her eyes as she sat a passenger in her own body, the body that couldn’t protect the most important thing it had ever created within…

“Snap out of it!” Sofa urged smacking her in the back of the head as they ran in before splitting to go either side of a vast trunk. 

Coming back together on the other side Kiraea could feel Sofa’s glare

“If you don’t get it together now I’m the one who’s gonna get killed!” Sofa added with typical selfishness. 

Without transport, deprived of the aether, being hunted, their only chance to survive was if they were all fighting to live.

The most defensible position, and only major land mark, were the mountains Yorna had been scouting, by instinct they raced that way in the hope of joining her.

As they flipped across marshy ground and over fallen trees Sofa fired the occasional blast backward with her pistol to take out the drone as they left their pursuers behind.

The Trandoshans did not care, for them the hunt had only just begun.

<<<<>>>>

As large as Island Eight was, there were a finite number of traversable paths through the jungle toward the mountains. 

These were lined by Ins’skas Spawn lying in wait for their prey.

Trip wires, motion sensors, mass detectors and thermal identifiers were all used in springing traps upon the women as they fled.

The mistake of the Trandoshans was slightly underestimating the speed at which their prey could move - even where a wire was tripped a bolt typically just missed as they moved faster than the 80 kilometers per hour previous Davjäan Guage had fled at.

Ins’skas assumed it was because these ones were well nourished.  The bones of his prior victims had all showed signs of malnutrition in small pitting and brittle flaking as they dried.

He oversaw the pursuit moving swiftly across familiar boughs and branches that still bore the indent of his scales from decades of hunts.  He was a feature of this jungle as much as any tree, having shaped it by his motion.

Electrical flares crackled, flame traps whooshed, no tool was off limits in pursuit of the Jagganth - excepting for the more purist of his spawn.  Even so as he aged he appreciated the closeness of hunting with his claws alone more.

The pery sped through the gauntlet, the pack began to form a new cohesive strategy.  Their armour was near impenetrable, and certainly not vulnerable to glancign attacks - they needed to penetrate those plated layers first with direct hits - such could only be achieved on a moving target by acceding to the blunt strategy of firing so many shots one was bound to hit.

Yorna was the first to endure the endless stream of slug rounds from an auto-load cannon wielded by the ever curmudgeonly Eighth Eldest and a handful of ‘teen’ eldests, thirteen, sixteen or some such. 

The projectiles gushed at 500 rounds a minute the sheer volume ensuring at least a dozen hit the ultradense plate - but the cannons size requiring two to keep it in place, a third to ensure the belt feed didn’t jam left them vulnerable when she turned on them, skidding under their arc of fire to come through with her blade slicing through the heated metal of the barrel then into the scrambling spawn.

Second and Fourth as Hatchmates hunted together with their auxiliary grenade launchers, lacing the path before the two  Davjäan Guage  with craters to force them to weave and jump while a las-repeater tore at them head on along a narrow path that forced them to move single file.

Sofa - perpetually in the lead in running away - had to coordinate her attempts to limit exposure as best she could without telepathic communication to Kiraea, trusting her to follow the lead of switching to a narrow shoulder profile as they ran, crouching forward as if to tackle so their shoulder pads took the brunt.

They pivoted at the last second into a narrow gap in thick mangrove roots Sofa spied, her right shoulder pad hissing as Kiraea followed, taking a few of the endless shots.

As soon as they entered the darkened maze of roots Trandoshan’s with vibro-claws sprang on them. 

Not heavy enough to knock them over they stumbled at the impact, fist and elbow responding to the slashing powered blades that ground against their armour whilst Second and Fourth hurriedly sought to reposition their repeater.

There was a brief flare of something approximating satisfaction as Kiraea cracked one reptilian muzzle into so much scale and bone with her hands before kicking another so hard it cracked through a root thick as her leg.

Sofa yelled to break out hearing the whir of the las-repeater back online, the red bolts shredding the fast growing foliage as they shook off the melee combatants as best they could.

Fifteen minutes and fifteen kilometers from where they started Sofa cough sight of Yorna lapping between fronds and hurling rocks she was sweeping up at drones pecking at her.

“There’s Yorna, that’s good!” Sofa called to Kiraea given they couldn’t sense each other as normal

Cold strategic insight came through in Kiraea’s deadpan reply

“If we’re intersecting it means they are herding us together,”

“That’s bad…” Sofa agreed
“But what choice do we have…”

Joining Yorna by pivoting low to take up a rock as they reached the foot hills Sofa hurled the stone as hard as she could into one of the drones, the impact denting but not disabling it as they caught up.

“There are caves ahead,” Yorna said without preamble

“And they want us to go there,” Sofa replied as they fell into a line, Yorna in front, then Sofa and Kiraea.

“But we’re getting there faster than they expected,”

With a huff of resignation they went on finding a narrow crevice that scraped their armour to slide into, the drones still hovering outside but for now, their real pursuers some distance behind.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2021, 11:12:25 PM
Chapter 29 — The Hunted and the Hollow — Part 5

Vacha

His thick nails tapped quickly across the comms board, locking in the ident codes written in the scratch like Dosh script.

Second Eldest was what the blood giver called him, a deliberate insult to his hatch mates lack of Jagganth so far as Ins’skas was concerned,.

Even now they were all on the moon hunting the Davjäan Guage and dying just as quickly.

The Blood giver had defeated three Davjäan Guage it was true, but Second eldest knew those three had been unarmed and unarmoured, the latter two all but starving.  These three were true representatives of their species and would not be so easily dealt with.

Naturally this only spurred his hatchmates to greater vigour, as they would provide even greater Jagganth.

He whistled low through his curved pointed teeth at their foolish desire for individual glory.

For Vacha was secretly a believer in the Contributory Jagganth Soteriology - that Jagganth could not be claimed by an individual as it was the entire Clan that facilitated the collection of Jagganth and so all earned a portion according to their contribution.

A pilot and mechanic such as himself contributed to Jagganth through his skills in delivering the hunters face to face with the prey and arming them with weapons and armour needed to succeed, and so the logic flowed to all others in a clan, the slough-herders, the artisans, traders, and of course informers.

It was in this capacity he was now acting.  His Blood giver never showed him due respect, sneered at his lack of Jagganth in his archaic ignorance. 

Vacha would achieve Jagganth in part on all three of the Davjäan Guage, by informing other hunters of the active hunt and its location.

His teeth clenched closer and he felt a satisfied rumble in his thorax as he forwarded more ‘invitations’ knowing full well they would clash with his hatchmates and Blood Giver.

For here was the inevitable conclusion of the related Accumulation-justification of Jagganth Theology  - part of every Jagganth earned from a hunt he had any hand in was allocated to him, therefore any actions he took to ensure maximum Jagganth, even Jagganth earned off other Trandoshans, was a right and just action that would endear him to the Scorekeeper.

If he benefitted by inheriting the Blood-givers vessel and reputation as well all the better.

As the final message was relayed he clicked his claws against his fangs satisfied that very soon dozens of deaths would fill his Jagganth.

<<<<>>>>

Sofa

“Well, what have we got….” Sofa asked as she kicked the detritus on the cave floor.  the narrow passage had led to a larger network of tunnels, filled with fungi and roots from the trees growing on the slopes above, it was lit with light bounced through clean water filled pools that featured speckled orange and white fish.

“One Rifle, five pistols, six implosion grenades, a dozen shikkars, two bows, six arrows, one lightsaber, three daggers, four short swords, and enough ration bars to last us weeks,”

“Not much...how many Leatherheads would you guess?” she asked Yorna
“At least twelve,”

“I saw about ten after the ones we cracked, so let's assume they have double that, forty maybe, double that again for those damn drones...frag...hopefully the others get here soon…”

“We can use the aether, but not recover it...these microorganism choke its availability, normally it takes minutes to draw on more energy to recover, here it would be hours if not days,” Yorna explained

It was basic aetheric theory, everyone had a certain level of Aeths innate to them, and a rate at which they could ‘draw’, hold and use the aether.  Of course once used it needed to be refilled.  A person's recharge speed another limiting factor, most Aethans could recharge their power in a few minutes - but only if the aether was widely available.

On this moon instead of drinking the aether from a jug to recover they could only sip it through a straw.

“So we only use it when we really need it, at least our armour is better than most of their weapons from what I saw, but if they gang up we’re in trouble.”

Aethans base level of  aetheric power was still substantial - Sofa estimated she had energy for half a dozen mid strength lighting attacks and eight or nine solid telekinetic hits as well as a very short teleport of a small object, Kiraea would be at a similar level, Yorna - naturally stronger than both - perhaps three more lighting shots and a larger teleport shunt.

“Our best strategy might be to stick to these caves, deny their numbers an advantage, maybe hunt them, what do you think Kiraea?” Yorna asked bringing her sister into the conversation.

“Whatever,” she shrugged arms crossed, slowly sinking back into the hollowness of her mind as the heat of pursuit died down.

“No,” Sofa said harshly
“Not ‘whatever’, I’m not indulging your grief when we have dozens of reptiles on our arse,”

“Sofa!” Yorna said, shocked “She’s just lost...”

“She’ll lose a lot more if she doesn't stop acting like a vuug moistener,” Sofa turned her eyes to Yorna

“Your a nice woman Yorna, you want to protect your sister, especially because you weren’t there when she was young and lost, but right now she needs a reality check, and normal Kiraea would agree with me,”

Sofa gave an amused huff
“Frell, she’s slapped me - literally slapped me - a half dozen times to get my head back in the game...it’s time I reciprocated.”

The perplexity on Yorna’s face had more to do with Republic axioms Sofa used that she didn’t quite understand ‘reality check’ and ‘back in the game’ foremost, but she understood the gist.

Sofa stared at Kiraea who remained glum in the corner beside a series of intent scratches in the wall from a previous occupant of the slightly larger space.

“Fine, sit there,” Sofa checked the power cell on her Hades Rifle, the Macro-maser based weapon whirring up with a red glow then falling eerily silent as it locked into an active state.
“I’m taking half the grenades and will set up some traps, see if i can find a place to get overlapping fire for when those scaled scum turn up.”

She stalked off into the tunnels silently.

Yorna sighed and approached Kiraea.

“Kiri...Sofa is right...we need you...and I...I don’t know how to help you…”

“How could you,” Kiraea sniffed never looking at her
“You weren’t there, you don’t even know me any more,”

There was no denying it, they had all said it, Yorna hadn’t been there when Kiraea needed her the most after the devastation, and had been absent more of Kiraea’s life than she had been part of it.  Being effectively dead was an ironclad reason that made Yorna feel no better.

“I guess I don’t...just who you were...fearless, curious...temperamental - and hated wearing shoes,” Yorna smiled at the memories of their childhood running around the near forests of Karintha’s house, their tree house, making parchment boats to run under the creek bridge nearby.

“I hope she hasn’t been lost too…” with a brief squeeze of her sister shoulder lost to the dense armour she left Kiraea to her thoughts and the quiet drip of the cavern.

<<<<>>>>

Ins’skas

“What is this violation…..” he hissed as drop ships bearing the Magclaw Clan and Sssar Jaw Brotherhood scraped the air overhead.

They were rearming after the pursuit ready to corner the prey in the caverns they had driven them to - while their numbers counted for less in the narrows, the Davjäan Guage were also denied their advantages of speed and acrobatics, and also likely unaware of the underwater passages - granting the Hunters and overall relative advantage.

That would be complicated by these intruders.

First Eldest was barking over the comm demanding to know why they violated the sanctity of his Blood Givers hunting Island.  The Magclaw responded they were invited by ‘Vacha’.

First eldest throat rattled indignation

Ins’skas vaguely recognized the name as Second Eldest.  He bared his teeth in amusement, the  Davjäan Guage were deadly, and with competing hunters there was a chance all his spawn could be slaughtered while Second Eldest reamined on the Lllsssak in orbit, standing to inherit all his possessions.

“He betrays us Blood-Giver!” First Eldest roared “Sharing the secrets of or hunt!”
Ins’skas growled in responses
“You consider these interlopers more adept at claiming Jagganth than you, you fear your siblings backstabbing?”

First eleset paused blinking quickly in thought, realising his mistake he exposed his throat

“Forgiveness...These hunters do not threaten me, nor my sibling...the insult to the sanctity of your hunting grounds anger me Blood -Giver, I will slay second eldest for this,”

Ins’skas had no interest in his pawns squabbling excepting when it benefited his Jagganth.  He did however have to ensure he lost no Face with the other clans should they believe he had no control over his spawn.

“I care not, tell the interlopers they are welcome to hunt, that I invited them here that the Scorekeeper may judge which of us is truly worthy of the rare Jagganth, but I offer no guarantee of non-predation of their own,”

First hissed the message across the slightly antiquated but hardy comm pack tat had served the island well for generations.

“They concur, to the worthy the Jagganth, to the dead disgrace,”

“Let them go in the caverns first, their tier scales adorn the shoulders of the prey and their souls add to the Jagganth tally of the Davjäan Guage, the more glory for us when we slay them,”

First Eldest hissed joyfully, the other spawn joining the largest in his exaltation of the Blood-givers wisdom.

<<<<>>>>

Trapped

Still as the stone about her Yorna peered at the scraps of clothing and bone that littered the ground, wondering again why these Trandoshan’s wanted to kill them so badly.  It didn’t seem an apt time to ask given Sofa and Kiri’s other issues.

The pool before her glittered with sun light reflected from some surface connection via erosion exposed quartz and other crystals.  Her thermal vision detected the minor shifts in the water as the temperature rose - not by more than a tenth of a degree, but enough for her keen senses to detect.

Her sense of mass also perked up as she felt bulky body shaped objects move toward her through the fluid. They would arrive, by her estimation, in 43 seconds.  she would arm the implosion grenade at 38.5, drop it in at 39, the four second delay it should kill whatever was in there, or at least cause excruciating pain.

She couldn’t take much joy from the thought, her mind still on her sister.  She wished she knew what to say and do, but Yorna just...didn’t have the experience - she wasn’t the older sister any more - and as the joyful jolt of their reunion had settled, the death of Kiraea’s baby had interrupted any time they might have had to develop a new relationship dynamic.

Yorna envied Sofa for knowing Kiri as she was today far better than she did - to that end she couldn’t argue against her ‘tough love approach’ - even if the situation didn’t imminently justify it, Yorna knew no better.

With a sigh she thumbed the activator and dropped the grenade then shuffled backward, idly staring up she noted ochre marking on the ceiling in a faded prot-aurebesh Miistra I Love You - Honour the Hansho Always it read.

She doubted Miistra ever received the message, simply living out her, or his, or who knew what alien gender -presumably ‘honouring the Hansho’, wondering what had become of their loved one.

With a bizarre warping sound the water vanished from the pool into the implosion core that dragged all matter and lightwaves inside and warped and mangled it beyond comprehension in random patterns of compacted matter interacting at several times the speed of sound.

A woosh of air into the displacement signalled the end of the main detonation...moments later the pool edges crumpled inward, chunks of water infused flesh and metal plashed out before settling back down. The pool collapsed further the floor ahead falling inward to seal it denying her enemy an entry.

By this time she was already a hundred meters away preparing her trap at the next pool.  not suing the same trick twice and wanting to preserve her remaining grenade she simply found a nook in the ceiling she could leap too and remain nestled within as the Trandoshans silently slipped from the water causing barely a ripple.

The Hunters of the Magclaw clan all possessed cybernetic enhancements, believing the flesh was weak comparative to steel in the pursuit of Jagganth.

Yorna oblivious to such cultural peculiarities simply waited for them to finish exiting the pool, relying on her light eating armour that exuded only minor traces of thermal radiation to avoid detection.

It was not enough for the Clan Seeker who was third out, the top of his head entirely cybernetic, a single thumb sized slit around his head offering 360 vision on almost every spectrum.

Hissing into his face grill the others swung to raise their weapons in what still seemed to Yorna’s senses slow motion.

She dropped, both pistols firing into the Seeker, maser rounds slagging the advanced sensor suite built into his skull as her weight was angled into her right foot and straight onto another's head.

Even without the aether she remained roughly twice as strong as the thickly muscled trandoshans, their mechanical augmentations made up that gap, leaving her only advantage faster reflexes.

Their augmetic bodies thrashed and struck at her, more leaping from the pool and coming in from a side tunnel similarly wet from their underwater insertion.

The raw scraping of durasteel on blackstone was incessant, the small cavern suffocating with bodies and swiping limbs.  Her dual Blackstone short swords sliced through the durasteel and flesh with ease, their aetheric enchantments still holding some charge to add a searing burn to the flesh - she juggled these with her pistols punching holes in chests and thighs.

For every one that dies the others became more desperate to earn her ever building Jagganth, the pile of bodies limited her movement, advantaging the slower Trandoshans whose replacements were ever more modified.

Surrounded by three creatures more sleek curved durasteel with resistant kortosis weave than flesh, she began taking more damage to her armour.  teeth clenched she had little choice but to flare up her lighting shield, the drain on her aetheric strength as instant as the crackling arcs that hit the machine-reptiles whose wires began to heat and surge protectors flashed warning directly into their minds.

It was not enough to resist the primal energy scattering signals between joints leaving them prey for Yorna’s swords.

The blue flare of Yorna’s lighting bounced through the glass like minerals in the cavern walls reaching Sofa’s peripheral vision just as she switched her Hades rifle to solid rounds.

(https://i.ibb.co/s9qcMTq/S-45.jpg) (https://ibb.co/s9qcMTq)

The Chiss-Aethan prototype miniaturized macro-maser weapons featured a secondary fire mode that coated phirk bullets in MASER energy adding serious oomph.  Sofa had only two clips of 25 bullets - but when the first one shredded through one Trandoshan torso and into another's legs causing the reptile to hiss as its flesh was flash cauterized she realised that might just be enough.

At the largest entrance to the cavern network she had found she was pumping controlled shots from her rifle into any shadow that passed between the bright sky outside and her dank ‘fort’.

Her lightsaber, quickly tied into a tripwire using the remains of some kind of metal thread she’d found in a groove in the cavern snap-hissed on to sever the feet of a more sneaky reptile.

The Sssar Jaw Brotherhood were ‘traditionalists’ preferring to kill their prey with their bare claws, and believed Jagganth was earned not just by killing, skinning and making trophies of their prey, but actively consuming them.

However when an especially recalcitrant meal was encountered they were more than happy to pre-cook with heat seeking missiles.

A pause in the incessant tide of green creatures made Sofa worried, the woosh of a missile straight into the cavern justified her balling up.

The heat of the explosion was less damaging by the rain of shattered rocks that followed half burying her.

“Frag this dren....” she hissed as the tumble and crack subsided, the crunch of clawed toes over broken ground nearing.

Bursting out of the rubble she squeezed the trigger tight bursting eight hard hitting shots into three Trand’s shattering them into flakes of meat and scale.

Those behind hissed and fell back, but she was too annoyed to let them go, accepting a few hits from crossbow like weapons on her armour to shoot two mor in the back, her helmets auto-tint reacting as she got closer to the bright daylight outside.

She saw the carbon scored chippe holes of three flame thrower nozzles as her foot was bathed in sun.

“Shavit….”

Three plumes of horizontal flame chased her back inside as she fired handful of shots wildly behind her, a choir of hissing audible over the crackle of the flame as a contraption of three heavy flame throwers liked to a shielded dome thrown together from spare parts walked forward as six Trand’s lifted it from within.

The mobile ‘flame-shell’ scraped the sides of the cave entrance as it advanced intermittently gushing an inferno from one of its three nozzles.  Sofa retreating back fired off her last two rounds in the magazine, both put serious dents in the shell but didn’t penetrate the doonium.

“Shavit, shavit, shavit!” she spun down a turn and took a grenade hastily burying it under a pile of stones.

“Step on that you reptilian frell faces…”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2021, 11:17:37 PM
Chapter 29 — The Hunted and the Hollow — Part 6
Hollow Within
(https://i.ibb.co/ZXTzzZJ/Kiraea-R-7.jpg) (https://ibb.co/ZXTzzZJ)
The familiar tension then release of another implosion grenade rocked the cavens and shook more dust onto Kiraea’s unmoving form.

Her sisters were out there, fighting to protect her, protect each other.

Where had they been when I needed them? When my baby needed them...Where had I been?  Where am I now

Maddening thoughts twisted and turned in her head absent the rails of logic or reason to guide them to resolution.

Her heart was squeezing faster, it knew there was a fight around her, pleaded to join it and let the lower level muscle thoughts loose to move her limbs to stalk and kill.

To what end. What use were a hundred, a thousand dead outsiders now when she had failed to protect the most precious thing she had ever held inside her own body.

For the first time she felt she understood Milaea when she had spoken about how empty revenge could be - loss could not be recovered by other death, whatever temporary satisfaction it brought.

She found herself in the Hollow physically now, this cavern incomprehensibly far from her home in kilometers she could never walk in a hundred lifetimes, yet incredibly closer than her child would ever be to her again.

The squeezing of her hearts and mechanics of her livers recycled the last handful of reproductive hormones and a single blood cell that did not fully belong to her leaving her completely alone as the caverns shook with the fight to which she was indifferent.

What could she do if she wanted to, if she couldn’t protect her own body, how could she protect others, how did she ever deserve to again be placed in a position of trust?

Her eyes adjusted again to the dank surrounds something in the corner, one of half a dozen piles of junk accumulated by others who had been herded heer for the slaughter over likely centuries caught her eye.

Without conscious effort she walked toward it, prying the small figure from the tainted rags, gnawed bones and refuse.

Imperfect as it was even when first carved, made near unrecognisable by the passage of years and swish of water when the cavern flooded during the monsoons Kiraea still recognised the idol of the Goddesses. 

Her Goddesses.

The memories of the signals that had brought them here melded with light piece of old wood in her hand. 

A Person had been here, carved this representation of three Goddesses standing back to back, arms linked, symbols of their powers in their hand, book, bow and leafy branch for wisdom, war and fertility.

And that Person had died here. 

The Goddesses had lost not one but Three children, in this place, based on what she had heard but not paid attention to at the time, between ten and fifteen years ago.

They had lost so many children, thousands, but the Goddesses had never succumbed to despair, only focused on protecting those they still could...and taking vengeance for those they could not.

Her body and brain cleared at last of the troubled mix of hormones her child’s death had caused, the remnants she had used the aether to so desperately cling to subconsciously for so long, Kiraea finally returned to herself.

The Vengeance for her child’s death had been had, her husband - Goddesses her wonderfully supportive and incomparably protective husband - had killed the Anzat with his bare bloody hands. 

Revenge for the Person who had carved this tiny thing in panic and desperation, lost so far from home, remained unfulfilled.

She swapped two ration bars with the totem, locking it away with due reverence as she consumed the bars in two swift swallows, already leaving the Hollow behind.

<<<<>>>>

The ‘Flame shell’ was a crumbled concave wreck of body parts and steel. A trail of corpses choked the approach down the winding caverns to an intersection where Sofa spun between the four different approaches kicking grenades back down, firing off shots where she could, and generally trying to ensure they didn’t trap her in a four way surge of flamethrowers.

While the Blackstone plate of her armour was in solid condition, the joints and lower layers were gradually wearing from repeated glancing shots and the heat.

Repeating her routine she went from entrance one, two shots, entrance two, kick back a flashbang, three….

Three was empty…

What are they planning now…

She pivoted quickly to Four where she saw in the dim light a Trandoshan on the ground trying to crawl toward her before being inexplicably dragged back round a corner followed by a wet grinding sound and a walking silhouette slinking along the wall.

 “Finally decided to join in?” Sofa jibed, Kiraea shrugged

“Well you weren’t going to save us,” She shot back sliding past her down corridor two, Sofa providing covering fire as Kiraea wall ran forward, curling into the makeshift barricades blades forward, dexterous as ever weaving into the smallest gaps to slip her swords into reptilian flesh.

“Glad you're back to your bitchy self,” Sofa smiled.

<<<<>>>>

The power fist shattered the rock above her head, a spiked knee forced her to pull her stomach in an odd position before hammering her fists into the thick plate.

Both Yorna’s swords were already stuck in the enormous Mech-Trandoshan’s back and neck, but apart from a spurt of fluid more oil than blood it seemed unaffected.

The mech didn’t so much traverse the caves as smash its way through, her sense of mass indicated it was pushing her toward another like behind two cavern walls that was bludgeoning its own path.

she was strong enough to dent the armour with her fists but not penetrate it, and didn’t get a chance to pry it off.

the wall behind her collapsing she rolled back and ran to the side, largely out of options she had to use her last grenade.  Using the height of this tunnel to her advantage she bounded between walls to gain elevation and leap into the swiping paint chipped metal claws, toward the metal dome that served as a head.

half landing she rammed her fist clutching her last grenade hard as she could into the dome, the indentation large enough to cradle the grenade as she immediately tried to disengage grabbing her swords.  A metal claw grasped at her leg for two previous seconds.  No other choice sh teleport shunted out of its grips a millisecond before the implosion grenade sucked in the top half of its body.

As it flopped over with a thunk the wall ahead of her burst open with another of the huge mechs.

With a sigh she took a running start she hurled her swords at the ‘head’ and pulled her pistols firing half a dozen shots with each step that even if not destroying, at least delayed the creatures advance.

A flare of blue erupted in its chest that was not the product of any of her attacks.  A Ghost like figure spun between its legs firing two hades pistols straight up into it.

The combined attacks caused the mech to spark and stutter.

Sofa pulled her saber from its guts as Kiraea came up in front of it, Yoran rushing to hug her.

“Kiri, are you alright?”

“No…” she said “But I will be,” she squeezed back.

“This place is a death trap, at some point they’ll just bring the whole place down on our heads, we need to get out,” Kiraea went on, gently taking out the totem.

“I found this here...our People were brought here...hunted like us, probably one by one…”

“But why?” Yorna asked as they started moving
“Do to these Traeanadashans...eat people?”

“Maybe, they are outsiders, even they don't comprehend their own insanity,” Kiraea said dismissively, idly putting a shot between the eyes of a Magclaw laggard.

“They’re hunters, for sport” Sofa more helpfully explained “They think killing tough prey gets them some magic afterlife,”

“For sport?” Yorna asked, not comprehending

“Uh...leisure, fun, not for food or anything,” Sofa tried to explain, Yorna was not simple, just still oblivious to the enormity of cultural differences in the galaxy.

“They hunted them…they hunted them for leisure...fun…” Yorna repeated.

As dull as their senses were on the aether starved ground Sofa could feel her anger building, mirrored and indeed re-enforced by her sister.

“We hunt for food, cull when needed to rebalance the population...but for pleasure…it’s despicable...wrong”

Her fists closed purple flames flickering in between her fingers before she clamped down on the instinctive Aethan reaction to disgust - violence.

“The Goddesses brought us here to punish them,” Kiraea explained as they caught the first glimpses of day light ahead.

“And we will not fail them,”

<<<<>>>>

Last Hunt

“Blood Giver they have left the….”

static followed.

The other Clans had spent gallons of blood in the caverns and still the prey fought on. 

Ins’skas could almost taste the Jagganth in the air.

Sixth eldest comm went offline, he peered at the operator, Seventeenth or something around there who adjusted the dials.

“...ring this you reptilian sleeze balls…” the distorted voice came across as First Eldest defiantly crossed his arms, Third eldest jittering scratching his throat in contemplation.

“...when I get hold of you I’m gonna turn you into a hand bag, and your little buddies into high heel boots!…”

The line cut out as Ins’skas hissed in amusement

“The Prey boasts when they fear most,” he repeated the axiom in old Dosh
“Prepare yourself Spawn, the Jagganth seeks us,”

At the other camp among the dead Yorna simply looked puzzled
“Sofa what’s a handbag, and why would you have high heels on boots?”

“Oh sweetie” the older woman sighed remembering the poor girl had no use for handbags or high heels in her simple life before the Devastation

“When this is over I have to take you shopping,”

<<<<>>>>

The Trandoshan’s made little effort to conceal themselves, not that they could from the thermal and mass senses of the Aethan women as they moved on from the first position outside the caves they had ‘cleansed’.

They congregated in a hunting encampment on the far side of the mountain from where the women had entered the previous day.  Nearly nine hours of fighting had not overly drained their genetically engineered stamina, it was rather the irritation of not having access to their full suite of Aetheric recovery mechanisms that prevented them from optimal recovery as they moved through the trees.

Their greatest limitation was resources in terms of armour, all but Kiraea’s at just on 40 per cent  efficacy, and equipment, two grenades only, no more projectile ammunition, though their guns charge remained at 75 per cent, and three arrows.

Kiraea looked up vainly into the mid morning sky for any sign of an approaching ship, knowing it could be days before any arrived.

Cresting a ridge they made out more of the camp, in a natural circle of hard rock and dense foliage, like the one Yorna had found earlier it was replete with old trophies.  This time however it was lusy with reptiles in strong defensive positions, the entrance to the caves at the rear of the camp blocked up with rocks in case the Aethans doubled back.

“Twenty two…” Kiraea whispered pointing to the largest in the most worn looking armour,
“That one is in…charge...”

She trailed off as Ins’skas turned, their telescoping vision zooming on the features of his armour.   

What would’ve been mistaken for human or miraluka by others was obvious to them as Aethan skulls and bones.  The porcelain like sheen of far denser calcium composites that resisted wear, the facial structures common to their entire race, the thicker set of jaws, the undulations in the femurs that linked to muscles groups and ligaments unique to Aethans that gave them so much extra strength and dexterity.

“He killed them…” Yorna whispered
“Then...then…”
Their reaction encapsulated their hypocrisy.  Kiraea and Yorna would not have even blinked had the skulls and bones been those of a wookie, or Chiss even, merely acknowledged them and indicators of rank and skill.  The bodies of outsider dead were all fair game.

But Aethan bodies were sacrosanct, they could never be submitted to such treatment by an Outsider.

Sofa saw the sisters' similarity clearly as they gazed with cold anger - both insatiable Furies sent to punish the wicked Outsiders, both burned with an aching need to manifest their rage, two sides of the same coin. 

Kiraea was vengeance, driven by xenophobia that needed no reason other than the inconvenience of Outsiders existence, Yorna was Justice, fuelled by indignation at the affronts caused to the People.

One hated Outsiders for what they Were, the other for what the Did - and together condemned the entirety of life apart from Aethans to death or servitude.

Ins’skas sentence was death.

“I’m not sure we can take that many...there will be more in the trees nearby too,” Sofa cautioned

“I don’t care if there are a thousand, we will kill them all,”

Astoundingly that was Yorna replying, her reputation as the ‘kind and quiet’ sister clearly reaching its limit.

“Not before we scale them,” Kiraea added establishing the balance of murderous intent in her favour again.

“The longer we wait the more their advantage grows in numbers, stamina and resources,”

Rolling her eyes Sofa gave in knowing she was outvoted, there was nowhere to hide on this island while they waited for reinforcement, and the best defence was a good offence yada yada .

“Alright...so how do we do this.”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 06, 2021, 11:19:48 PM
Chapter 29 — The Hunted and the Hollow — Part 7
(https://i.ibb.co/93X9SsY/Kiraea-R-8.jpg) (https://ibb.co/93X9SsY)
It began with the scouts and outliers in the thicker foliage being muffled and dragged backward, head twisted 720 degrees in an unnecessary but satisfying spin that left them lolling, connected to the body only by the scales.

This allowed Yorna to get position precisely to line up her three remaining arrows with the power cells on the fixed guns. Three shots - three hits, disabled the three main heavy weapons, two of them causing electrical overloads that singed the Trandoshans attending them.

The camp went spastic with alert as they simultaneosuly lost contact with their scouts.

The Aethans struck from three sides, their hades pistols and rifle unleashing a constant stream of maser fire that quickly overloaded the blaster shields designed to resist conventional Republic blaster energy rather than the more impactful Chiss energy weapons.

The response was swift with seeker missiles and repeaters firing back until the bounce of the last two implosion grenades forced them to dive out of the implosion radius which reversed out in a mess of dirt and metal leaving two craters.

Relentless fire from both sides left ten Trandoshan’s dead or mortally wounded and blew off much of Sofa’s remaining armour forcing her to keep to the back as they engaged the whirring vibro-blades and tremor swords when in melee range.

Yorna and Kiraea each wielding two short swords moved like a wind of death through the first four to engage them, Sofa saber lit bouncing back blaster bolts relying only on her natural reflexes and grudgingly drawing on the aether within her to hurl back grenades and stun nets.

Limbs flew from the trandoshan’s with every pass until all four were lums n the ground, two more engaged while another uncaring of his hatchmates fates turned the last flame thrower on the whole group, Yorna twisting out Kiraea covering her back to hurl her dagger straight into the pyro happy creatures chest.

By now only nine Trandoshan’s remained.

“The weak eggs crack first,” Ins’skas dismissively hissed at the death of his spawn.  First, Third and Fourth Eldest still lived, along with Ninth and Tenth, Twenty-Third, twenty-Fifth and an injured but still standing Thirty -Eighth - Ins’skas had to credit the youngest survivor, his Egg-layer had been a large bodied female and produced a thick muscled spawn.

Kiraea locked eyes on the Blood-giver and hated him even more for the casual indifference he showed to his progeny. 

At this range both predator species could smell each others enough to identify the familial relations of each side.

First Eldest snarled and charged in first, for no reason of filial piety or fraternal protection, simply to take the Jagganth of the weakest of the prey - in this case Sofa with comparatively weakened armour.

Ninth and Fourth were not far behind, Third skirting the edges, the ‘younger’ ones hoping their elders sibling took the brunt.

Kiraea flipped over the first two, letting Yorna grapple with Fourth and Ninth, rolled between Tenth and Twenty Third, swords clutched to her breast pointed outward acting like blades on chariot wheels of old to cut through their thighs, then spun up both swords through the chest of twenty fifth.

The dead reptile vomited blood as she slipped off and around aiming for Ins’skas but intercepted by Thrity-Eighth, the bulky youth slashing with his ViborAxe that glinted the sun as it descended with more strength than finesse, allowing her to side step and take the arm at the elbow, before spinning into a crouch blades whistling to cut him in half at the hips, a trail of aetheric blue left in her swords wake...it was unfortunately the last of the charge in her weapons.

Ins’skas grunted respectfully, once more it was him alone against Davjäan Guage.  He had called then ‘Burning Alien’ after the first hunt because as they died they invariably lit in a blue fire the likes of which her swords had just used to cauterize his spawn.

He swung his Bat’Leth from his back as she glared at the desecrated bones of her People.

“Time to die scale face,”

Their blades met with a sharp chime as Yorna locked hers with Fourth - one of the few spawn to have killed a wookie berserker he knew how to deal with physically strong opponents, even if in Yorna’s case she was much shorter. 

His brutish but efficient style, complemented by the Wookie Berserker sword he used, his best weapon and most prized evidence of Jagganth, wouldn’t have kept her so long had Ninth Eldest not been a constant thorn to the side, armed with an electro-spear he jabbed in at every opportunity she got to get to Fourth.

She would eventually wear them down, as with every clash Fourth’s joints ached a little more, and her greater than humanoid dexterity began to confound his guard, but she needed to help her sister.  Kiraea was better but not recovered, and the Trandoshan leader was proving remarkably adept.

Ins’skas had fought  Davjäan Guage before, had gone out his way to purchase two to hunt, her speed, strength and nubile body were no surprise to him, only her skill and equipment exceeded the rattled slaves he had killed before, making the match surprisingly even.

The bat'leth wove close and tight, its defensive potential in full display in a master's hands, he loosed his right claw grip to extend and hurl a magnetite-shuriken, the self accelerating bade boring like a drill into Kiraea’s breast plate, allowing him fur solid strikes before she gained space to batter it away.

The woman who would never forget the nameless child she had lost glared at the cold reptilian eyes of a hunter who didn’t care to know the names of the hundreds of offspring he had watched die. 

Even more disgusted if she was possible Kiraea launched at the hunter again.

A shockwave front he nearby clash buffeted Sofa who wove around First Eldest, and knocked back bolts from Third, their tag team surprisingly effective, her greatest limitation was her compromised armour keeping her Niman style ina defensive posture - of this at least she was unmatched as an adept of Soryu’s protective variant, but it meant she lacked opportunities.  The thrum of her blade snapped and cracked on the tremor swords, before rounding to bounce back another dang yellow bolt.

Fourth saw his chance - but so did Ninth - as Yorna used what little she understood of the Trandoshan’s culture, dropping back and switching feet to leave herself exposed to both at once.

It worked, both Trandoshan’s intent on claiming the Jagganth lunged at her forsaking their earlier cooperation and falling into her trap. 

Lithe and flexible Yorna bent in ways that would snap a humans spine to move between the spear and Fourths Berserker sword, taking the former under her arm and tugging to put Ninth between her and Fourth.  Along and stumbling Ninth was easy prey, Yorna sliced his throat open then rolled over his back her full attention on Fourth had him beat a determined but futile retreat that ended with his blade on the ground next to his hands.

Straight to her sister Ins’skas hissed at the intervention just as he was making headway.

Kiraea could feel the true exhaustion of the weeks since her loss finally upon her, the fatigue she had refused to feel in the Hollow wouldn’t be denied much longer.  But nor could the Trandoshan filth be left alive.

Large and strong of body the Blood Giver had the experience and ferocity to hold off the two Aethan women, his long curved Bat’leth- an ancestral weapon of is bloodline forged in aeons past survived the Blackstone blades, but never without a serious chip being cleaved off.

Had they access to the Aether Ins’skas would’ve been telekinetically garrotted and internally combusted before he could raise his blade, it was as if by some nefarious arrangement between the Goddesses of Aethas and the Scorekeeper of Trandosha he was permitted a fight in one of the few places he stood a genuine chance.

The theological implications might’ve interested Sofa more had she not been occupied with the almost as large First Eldest who engaged directly, and the more conniving third Eldest who fired from wrist mounted launchers at every opportunity straining her attention.

“Frell to this!” she finally decided, her last ounce of aetheric energy was just enough for one telekinetic play.  She chose her timing carefully as First felt the Jagganth on his tongue.

Back flipping Sofa threw her saber like a spear while in the air.  she landed to First’s confused delight as his prey was unarmed, arms spread open for the kill.  It turned to shock as Sofa’s guided her saber out of Third’s neck and into First’s back.  She grimaced less from the loss of energy to pull the move off than the face it meant his scales would have a nasty burn. She would have to cut around to make her handbag...a purse instead perhaps?

Alone, it was fitting Ins’skas grinned, as Sofa joined the fight.

A certain amusement took him as the three pressed him hard, their only limit seeming to be they avoided the parts of his armour covered in Davjäan Guage bone and skull, not wishing to damage it further. 

There was a joke here by the Scorekeeper, he had slain three of their kind, Three of their kind would slay him.

Not without ferocious resistance.

The Trandoshan’s weakness had been their individual drive for Jagganth, they untied to wear down difficult prey, but they never risked another taking the kill. 

Ins’skas knew this fundamental weakness of their strategy.  He did not care, his Jagganth was all he cared for, and even as they destroyed his Bat’leth, sliced off his fingers, snout and leg, he knew his Jagganth was imperishably marked in the Scorekeepers tally beside his name.

The three sisters looked down at the wheezing creature, their unity was their victory, their revenge just beginning.

<<<<>>>>

Vacha
The last life-transponder died.

It was done…

The majority of his hatch-kin, Blood-Giver, and the best hunters of the Mag-Claw and Sssar Jaw Brotherhood all killed for the glory of the Scorekeeper, a portion of their Jagganth flowing to him. 

And the Davjäan Guage remained alive to hunt another day.  Oh how he would profit now, the Island was his by right, the trophies of the Blood-Giver...and the ship  Lllsssak’s!

“Actually I’m taking the ship,” a voice from behind said offhandedly.

“Not bad, could do with a bit of paint, need to get that cloaca smell outta here…” Taryn said, strolling down the bridge to the Trandoshan hastily pulling his pistol.  It flew from the holster into the far wall, a serrated dagger simply bent in on itself.

“Now how’s that a proper greeting for your new captain…” Taryn jumped into the command throne, Varcha feeling his limbs pinned against him as he lifted off the ground.

“...now why don’t you tell me all about this pretty little thing?”

<<<<>>>>

Mitigated Recovery
“It’s a lot like Vosis scaling,” Yorna explained to Sofa’s slightly disgusted look.

“Though they are much larger, these Trandoshan’s are fiddly…” she used wire salvaged from a heavy weapon to scrape with.
“At least he’s not wriggling any more...”

That had been especially unpleasant to watch, though in all honesty Sofa had rarely considered such reptilian species as much more than simple minded pests before joining the Aethan sisterhood.

The process of obtaining her new boots and handbags - for there was enough for multiple sets - was far less edifying than just shopping for them Sofa decided.

Since killing the ‘Bloodgiver’ the few remaining scouts had scattered into the jungle, there was a half hearted attempt to attack them repelled by Sofa’s rifle fire taking off two heads.

The thump of heavy feet on weak soil finally announced the arrival of their ride.

Jarys immediately went to Kiraea taking a half nap in the corner, her armour still bloody from the Blood Givers' very extended death.

Her eyes flickering open he knelt before her with a slight creak, still not fully recovered from his own vengeful excesses.

“Are you injured?” he asked a medi-kit already in hand.

“No,” she whispered, “Just tired,”

Jarys head dropped lower a sense of shame he had not been there to help her twice in as many months.

“Will you recover,” he asked

“One day,” she said leaning into him as Yorna looked on with a smile and began packing their haul of scales.

“What daemonic realm is this...life itself seems to stop here...and where…”

“Enough,” Valens replied to Maekal’s complaints as they reached the camp

“Scout the perimeter...and hunt down the stragglers, I want their heads in ten minutes” he ordered, having found giving the boy concrete tasks kept him from his ill-informed ramblings - mostly.

“Took your time,” Sofa teased Valens as he idly looked over the ruination of the Trandoshan’s

“I came as soon as my ring started losing connection,” he held up his armoured hand, beneath it the wedding band he had crafted linked to Sofa’s own.

“Well you missed out, but I’m done with this moon,”

Valens nodded, Jarys was already guiding Kiraea toward the ship in an areas they had blasted clear for landing nearby, Maeson and Adaea busy collecting or incinerating the ruins of Sofa’s transport to the moon to ensure as little as possible was left.

“How is she?” Valens asked

“About half her usual bitchiness…” Sofa sighed as Kiraea and Jarys vanished into the trees.

“And you?”

“Dirty, uncomfortable, and stinking like Trandoshan dren,”

“And still the most beautiful thing on this Moon,” Valens smiled,

Sofa sneered and jabbed him in the arm,

“Let’s get off this dump, I have an entire new wardrobe to put together”

<<<<>>>>

Xanaea’s slender hands lowered the carefully wrapped bundle into the alcove.

She placed the totem found so far away on the top then drew the small curtain closed.

Kiraea crouched beside her and kissed her head.  Xani exuded a sense of calm, she had long sensed her parents were dead, but now, having found her father the lingering hope that maybe just maybe was put to rest with his bones.

Yorna had interred the other two victims of the Trandoshans, showing Sofa the proper Rites and process.  They had taken small samples for genetic testing but so far they remained unidentified, the course microorganisms of Wasskah had drained them of an aetheric trace to use psychometry or flow walking on...a final bitter insult to the People.

But in time they would work out who and add their family colours to the currently plain dyed curtains across their resting places.

“Aunt Kiri, are you still sad about the baby?” Xani asked bluntly
“Yes love,”
“Can you bury it like papa?”

Kiraea had to shake her head
“Not in the same way...what is left is...inside me...we’ll rest together one day,”

“All finished?” Sofa asked coming up behind with Yorna,

“I think so,” Xani said

Sofa knelt down to the youngest of them
“You know I promised to take Yorna shopping, would you like to come too?” she asked Xani but was truly speaking to Kiraea
“We can have a big girls weekend out, watch holo-movies, get our nails done...and Lya and Kiri can teach you how to play tricks on outsiders in shopping malls,”

“Can I!” she asked Selaena who was never far from her adoptive daughter, the quiet older woman just nodded,

“Well why don’t you go pack, we’ll finish up here,”

Sofa didn’t fail to note how Kiraea’s gaze lingered on Xani as she left, a mix of hope, envy and loss.

“You’ve still got four good ovaries, plenty of chances, especially with that hunk of a husband of yours” Sofa said breaking the silence.

“Not until….later…” Kiraea replied quietly

“Not too much later,” Sofa insisted again pushing Kiraea when she needed it most as a sister should
My daughters will need some friends to play with after all,” she added with typical selfishness

“You’ll have Val in a panic if he heard you say that!” Yorna laughed the mood brightening as they made their way out of the catacombs into the light.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 09, 2021, 05:39:18 PM
Again, this story is definitely my favorite: the character development alone is worth the read!  On that note...

Speaking for myself: the loss of family is keenly felt, regardless of Kiri's usual bluster (poor Jarys: not only is he mourning his child's death BUT then he also has to carry his wife's loss and despondency).  I know that Aethan physiology is genetically manufactured to deal with/heal/ignore emotional adversity as well as physical and we see this underscored once again here (another time being Sofa's response to her own trauma: it will flare hot and then douse out...the Technocracy certainly did a bang up job to supplement the survival mechanism of their bioengineered progeny).  

I think that this grouping of Kiri, Sofa, and Yorna was perfect: both of Kiri's sisters (one by blood, one by circumstance) provide the proverbial Yin and Yang of support.  Interestingly enough, it's Sofa that has the right of it (even after her acceptance as a Person, Kiraea has always been somewhat antagonistic towards her...of course, for those of us that have siblings: who hasn't fought with them  ;)).  And poor Yorna: she really did miss out on Kiri's formative years (NOT her fault), as well as much of her own--I'm thinking that she'll be getting a crash-course in the more violent idiosyncrasies that the galaxy has to offer (case-in-point: the Transdoshans).

Not knowing much of Transdoshan culture, this was a fantastic character study in them: they seem like the obverse side of the coin from Wookies--both with a code of honor (I'm reminded of the Aiel and ji'e'toh from Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time"), with almost diametrically opposing views on how to obtain such.  Once again, LSG, your encyclopedic knowledge is in full force here^^

Three things of especial note: in quoting the Dosh maxim, Ins’skas forgot (and pays for!) a more important, universal truth (one that my wife has reminded me of ad nauseum): "NEVER get between a woman and her handbag"  :)

AND

AWESOME picture for the story arc introduction!!!  Between LSG, FT, and PS, we've got some EXCEPTIONAL visual artists here  8)

AND

Just what is this "Hansho?!?"  Sounds...important... ;)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 14, 2021, 05:05:42 AM
Chapter 30 — Dramatis Personae — Part 1
[[[Syndic Nuruodo: Please find attached data packages and analysis reports following the conclusion of the second Aethan Induction and Academy Graduation Programme.

All Aethan auxiliaries have successfully completed the programme and been assigned appropriate rank within the Orbital Drop Shock Commando Corps of the Chiss Expeditionary Defence Force.

Combat analysis has been completed by Colonel Nduur’casp’Idona– CEDF Orbital Drop Shock Commando (ODSC) Unit.
Anthropological Analysis has been completed by Doctor Asstraa’Sinidi’Ycaas Emeritus Professor of Csaplar University currently volunteering with CEDF Intelligence Analysis
Psychological analysis has been completed by Doctor Ythung’vince’elsi of CEDF Medical Corps. Doctor Ythung’vince’elsi notes that this second intake presented a number of very distinct challenges in performing psychological interviews ranging from persistent silence (Evyn /Evaea) to incomprehensible rambling (Maekal) - it could not be discerned if this was a deliberate attempt to undermine the interview process.

We have adopted the latest Standardised Individual Capacity Level used when ranking CEDF Officers to a ‘Standardised Individual Threat Level’ (SITL) indicating each of the Aethans relative prowess based on observations, anecdotes and evidence collected from their postings and assignments.

For Reference a CEDF ODSC w/5+ years of combat experience is rated 60 on this scale. Jedi Grand Master Yoda is rated a score of 210.

> Admiral Ithhawa’Tran’Nuuso]


Kassyndra
(https://i.ibb.co/D7V2CmM/Kass-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/D7V2CmM)
ODSC Rank: Commando First Class - Medicae Division
Height: 175cm
Weight: 280KG
Gender: Female

Combat Analysis: Guardian training, Strong Force Healing, shatterpoint and foresight abilities (See Seior Arts). Combat competency is largely a result of Aethan biological advantages and native Force abilities, honed sufficiently with training.
Anthropological Analysis: Supportive elder role, full time ‘healer’ role which encompasses physical and mental health support.
Psychological Analysis: Unusually placid demeanour considering loss of daughters and years of slavery.  It is suspected this is due to a need to maintain a ‘safe persona’ for younger Aethans to seek comfort in when needed.  Shows a curious mix of strong confidence and support for her Granddaughter Milaea, but also concern for the potential of her powers
SITL: 150


This was highly unnatural for her in a number of ways.

Kassyndra was not, in her own opinion, an aggressive person, trying to inflict damage against People, an even more unnatural requirement, and the means by which - piloting the Claw Craft a further step outside her comfort zone.

But then that was the whole point.

Jinking hard left she let the aether guide her out of the path of the chugging maser fire, one eye on the panels that indicated her shields were down to forty percent.  

Ahead was a sea of blotchy yellow stains that concealed the spread of unknown stars on the borders of Ascendancy space.  Behind her the distant dull grey silhouette of a Chiss Expansionary Defence Force Fortress Station.  She always found the ‘Expansionary Defence’ term amusingly oxymoronic.

Another spray of fire forced her to the right as the sensors detected a missile lock.  

“Shake that spiker and form up seven!” the Chiss Squadron leader demanded of her.

For the sake of her granddaughter and her People she complied.  She would master these skills for the day she might be called upon to fly one of the People far more advanced Vorynx fighters in defence of their world.  

Kassyndra let the guilt, the burning rage at all she had lost to the outsiders trickle through her veins to give her the strength to help preventing such a devastation ever happening again.  

Nearly three dozen Claw craft spun and twisted around half as many light frigates and corvettes in the exercise.  The Chiss did nothing by half measure, all the Craft involved were active in service, their blaster power simply reduced to 20 per cent and missiles fed through targeting computers to determine ‘hits’ if they occurred.  

Three teams vied for three astronavigation beacons 2000km apart, Team Vis was set to defend them, Team Ryn to capture, and her Team - Cssa - to destroy.
 
The blare of the targeting lock intense as the ‘spiker’ neared, despite moving more into line she formed up more with her squad and deployed the countermeasure, a scattering of heated shredded metal particles to throw off the lock.

It didn’t work, forcing her to dive out of formation again just as her squad entered range of the first beacon.

“Cssa One Lock,”
“Cssa Four Lock,”

“Fire at will,” Cssa leader ordered, he had obviously determined losing Kassyndra was a tolerable cost for taking out the fist beacon.

Kassyndra was more than happy to sacrifice herself for her People, but not needlessly.

Hammering the afterburners to jet past her squad in line with their own ‘missiles’, straight into the teeth of the Vis defenders she trusted superior Aethan reflexes to dodge the head on fire and then bank hard the ‘missile’ on her tail ‘destroyed’ by friendly fire as she pivoted back into formation to fight another round.

“Bold Cssa Seven, return to formation,” was the half praise, as much as a Chiss could offer, as the first beacon was destroyed.
<<<<>>>>
Yorna
(https://i.ibb.co/dkCvLmk/Yor-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/dkCvLmk)
ODSC Rank: Master Sergeant
Height: 176cm
Weight: 285KG
Gender: Female

Combat Analysis: Advanced Guardian Training.  Expert in dual wielding, strong talents in all fields, ‘all rounder’ in combat freely mixing style and techniques.

Anthropological Analysis: Position in flux. Nominally a peer of Valens/Jarys/Kiraea her Resurrection/Time Skip has caused her to ‘miss’ many of their key life events, her lack of experience with ‘outsider’ culture puts her at a distance from the younger Aethans as well.  While Karintha has a more dominant personality to compensate, Yorna remains somewhat ‘adrift’.  
Psychological Analysis: Highly curious, displays like her Aunt Karintha and Sister Kiraea, absolute confidence in her own choices and actions and pursues actions with little regard to consequences for any other than Aethans.  Whilst her Aunt acts with a manipulative intent and sister xenophobia, Yorna appears more driven by unshakeable, reckless if cheerful conviction in the rightness of her own actions.
SITL: 180


“Vorynx…” the first beacon was down
She was already peeling away when the order came
“All Vis fighters move to line Cherek,”

In three dimensional space defending tow pin prick beacons was virtually impossible, their recourse was to position themselves to intercept alone the most likely attack corridors.

Checking the rear holo she noted team Cssa forming up for the next attack, Team Ryn had yet to make a play to capture the beacons, one of which was now lost.

Tinkering with the tactical map she assessed the positions of each of the space vessels, but her eyes were drawn to the distant yellow nebulae that were endemic in this region of the ‘unknown’ regions, the whole concept of which she found fascinating, that for all their technology vast stretches of the galaxy remind utterly unknown.

What kinds of weird creatures could be out there? even stranger than the ones She’d already seen.

“Vis Three is there a problem with your Comm?” the flight leader interrupted her musings.

“Minor interference,” she quickly lied, refocusing on the approaching opposing claw craft.
“Possible hacking attempt?”

“All wings check your firewalls,” the Squad leader said, believing her very plausible excuse for drifting.
“One through Four head Z at 35 degrees, Four through Eight take Y10-X554, Nine through Twelve patrol pattern Dorn around point 331Z 821 Y 901X.”

Confirmations clicks came across the comm as she moved out in formation a solid if not imaginative defensive patrol pattern.

Three Cssa frigates moved in a chevron pattern their fields of fire on upper and lower decks providing overlapping covering fire.

They were trying for a blitz Yorna realised, to take each beacon as quickly as possible heedless of losses - or at least that is what they wanted the defenders to think.  Her curious nature meant she looked into everything with intent interest in details and saw patterns others missed.

The Cssa would push hard then suddenly decelerate, her Vis allies would intercept, then the Ryn would come in from behind - they couldn’t resist such a chance - the Vis would be forced to bring in their reserves early to try and hit the Ryn in the rear - then the Cssa would pull back from the fighting.

“Squad leader, I strongly suggest we keep to a tighter formation, Enth patrol pattern at 15 degrees...if we try and flank their advance we’ll leave our own squads too isolated for a counter attack by the Ryn.”

As always her voice was full of certainty and calm that almost carried the otherwise focused Squad leader along.

“Duly noted Pilot, proceed as ordered,”

She sagged in her chair, well she had tried...now she would just do all she could to protect her wingmates and knew she could rely on Lydan speeding on his ordered course to hold the line long enough for her to be proved right.

<<<<>>>>

Lydan
(https://i.ibb.co/LZfV202/Lydan-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/LZfV202)
ODSC Rank: Commando First Class
Height: 181cm
Weight: 325KG
Gender: Male
Combat Analysis: Advanced Guardian Training, strong melee abilities, extreme stamina and endurance.
Anthropological Analysis: ‘Shepherd’ /Young Male, works primarily with native fauna, this considered a critical and valued occupation.
Psychological Analysis: Quiet/gentle disposition, defers largely to sister, mother and wife in all matters.
SITL: 165


Chasing down elusive prey was a daily task for a shepherd and hunter of the People, but being surrounded by durasteel and transparisteel rather than deep blue skies and rolling grass hills or warm and dense forests was constantly threatening to close in on him.

”Techno-Agora-Claustra-Phobia combination,” Adaea had explained to him, her face turned forlorn and she stroked his hair, despite her best efforts they knew he would never fully lose those discomforts, the product of being forcibly cybernetically grafted to serve a Black Sun Vigo.

He had to keep one conscious level working on calming techniques to avoid a panicked tearing apart of the durasteel to escape the confined so the fighter cockpit.  the most important of which was visualising himself in Adaea’s embrace beneath the open starry sky of their homeworld.

But five other active levels were more than enough to hunt down the stragglers in the Cssa squadron.

Over flying one he had just diabsled with Ions, he pumped more low powered maser bolts into the wing of a second, immediately pulling the stick up to curve down and fire on the third.  

If he had learnt one thing chasing Volurks from his herd, it was never let any escape unharmed - a volruk pack was more than happy to let one or two die to get at the gormin, so you had to get each one of them.  Applied to a dogfight he kept the pressure on all three targets forcing them out of formation and into evasive maneuvers.

The Cssa fighters all tried to break toward their support Frigates, his radar pinged with the outer edge of the frigate's turret range warning him not to get closer.  

A slight annoyed grunt and he pushed just inside the circumference to land three more shots ‘disabling’ another fighter before spinning round in a roll to avoid any missile locks.

“Five bogies nice job Six,” The squad leader a female Chiss who was one of the most talkative of the otherwise taciturn race commented.

Lydan had developed an early reputation among the Chiss cadets as ‘country boy’ with his quiet voice and soft mannerisms at odds with his farm built frame. Assumptions he was also a ‘gentle giant’ were knocked out along with six other cadets, Evyn and Taryn in their first Forbelean Defence Lesson - the official martial arts of the CEDF he had adopted it quickly from sharing memories with Melron and Maeson who were there to oversee the training of the new Aethans joining the CEDF.

He learned quickly, spoke quietly and politely, and hit very hard when he needed to.  To the Chiss it seemed another dichotomy, but that was the life of a shepherd, you had to be gentle and quiet as a Gormin to get the trust of the herd - and hard and vicious as a Vorynx to keep the predators at bay.

Back with his wing mates on Vis team they pivoted down where two corvettes were coming up on approach flanked by a dozen fighters of Cssa team.

“It’s probably a feint, but we can’t let it slide,” the Squad leader noted as they positioned to intercept.  

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 14, 2021, 05:08:06 AM
Chapter 30 — Dramatis Personae — Part 2
Evyn
(https://i.ibb.co/rfdVJnm/Evyn-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/rfdVJnm)
ODSC Rank: Lieutenant
Height: 180cm
Weight: 305KG
Gender: Male
Combat Analysis: Anzati Assassin training, incomplete Advanced Guardian Training, incomparable stealth skills, Preference for assassination and sabotage methods, expert in demolitions and cyber warfare.
Anthropological Analysis: Young Male, due to recent addition to Tribe his role is yet to be defined beyond gender/age typifiers.
Psychological Analysis: Highly deferential to authority figures, taciturn, bonded strongly to Twin sister, confident in abilities but not boastful.
SITL: 165


Sensei would’ve considered such open conflict ‘uncouth’, disgraceful, lacking the serene precision of a single knife through the enemies aorta.

There was an element of surprise in the assault, his flight was on a vector that would crash into the flank of a dogfight between the Cssa and Vis, their larger vessels enhancing broadsides in an inconclusive shot out, each side unwilling to commit fully for fear of just what his team Ryn was about to do.

Making the most of his multiple levels of consciousness he had ‘tweaked’ the Claw Crafts targeting system to be able to lock each of the two missile tubes onto different targets, it reduced tracking efficacy but he could make up for that with manual correction given his mind and fingers were fast enough.

Ryn flight slammed into the already heated clash of vessels, taking a swift toll on both Cssa and Vis sides, they had both moved forces to block the Ryn advance, but they had underestimate the Ryn strength.

Evyn had suggested, and the Team ‘Admiral’ had accepted an old trick of Sensei’s, mag locking powered down fighters on the capital ships hulls with only a standard escort to surprise the enemy with twice the number of expected fighters.

Taryn had slapped him on the back in the briefing <the old garbage venting trick!>.  Evyn liked Taryn, he was very different and talkative, but unlike Maekal not spouting incoherent theology, Lydan too was a good fellow to speak with, though quiet like Evyn, once the topic of his gormin herd came up Lydan can -and did - speak for hours.

He curved through the lines between fighters on low power avoiding the criss crossing of blasts trying to stay as low profile as possible with power minimal, his target was the shields around the Beacon they needed to capture.

He felt the subtle brush of his sister nearby on the defending side.  She had been somewhat unhappy when he spent time with the others, especially Ari and Yorna, as if she feared he would replace her as sister.  Evaea seemed intent on proving herself to their new -or perhaps ‘restored true’ - family by display of skill alone.

Evyn sensed that was not enough.

Keeping his laser focus on the mission he set those thoughts aside and flicked the golles to put his cannons full power.

<<<<>>>>

Evaea
(https://i.ibb.co/JrtVRHF/Eva-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/JrtVRHF)
ODSC Rank: Master Sergeant
Height: 175cm
Weight: 280KG
Gender: Female

Combat Analysis: Anzati Assassin training, incomplete Advanced Guardian Training. Preference for assassination and sabotage methods, expert in crafting poisons and toxins and novel delivery systems.

Anthropological Analysis: Young Female, due to recent additional to Tribe her role is yet to be defined beyond gender/age typifiers.

Psychological Analysis: More dominant of the twin pair, intense motivational drive for mastery over technical and combat skills, need to ‘prove’ her worth likely a hangover from prior adoptive ‘parents’ demands. Strong tactical leadership potnetial.
SITL: 165


Hard on the stick to the point it ground against the port console.

She had much to prove and that could not be done is she fell to the Ryn ambush at Beacon 2. 

Thumps of maser bolts hit her rear shield as she would in a tight helix away from the attack pivoting to come up under the second wave her cannons flaring blasting down the shields of one then another Claw Craft

Sorry Evyn… she knew he was among team Ryn but not exactly where.  They were instructed not to use their Force abilities at all in such exercises to ensure a more even playing field and assessment of their ‘native’ skills’

But nothing could cloud the Twin bond infused in her blood that told her he was nearby and furiously engaging in hit and runs on her allied Cssa frigate.

“Keep up that Pressure Five,” her Squad leader encouraged as she sped ahead before looping back to come in on the scattering second wave squads rear.

Chugging her blasters while seeking missile locks she did all she could to emulate and perfect the Chiss maneuvers she had spent an extra 45 hours in the simulator pods practising with Evyn.

“We have to master this, we cannot fail our new family,” she had insisted as they skipped rest cycles on the Chiss Dreadnought. 

Karintha and the others all said Sensei had intended to feed on them from the start.  Evaea wasn’t sure she believed that.  It was more likely that she and Evyn had so comprehensively failed Sensei in such a short period of time that had made him justifiably angry, their usefulness at an end he had perhaps intended a ‘Completion’ to their Service by feeding on her and Evyn…

The thought still troubled her, she could not wish such a thing on Evyn, or herself...yet the alternative had been Sensei beaten to death by Jarys using knowledge from her own mind transmitted by Aresea. Another failure to have allowed her mind to be so open.

Her complicity in Sensei’s death nearly distracted her from the blare of a missile lock on her own vessel. Zagging she deployed countermeasures but the lock was persistent, arrogant even.

She had to break the lock, she could not, would not fail another family.

<<<<>>>>

Maekal
(https://i.ibb.co/Lg30263/Maek-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/Lg30263)
ODSC Rank: Commando First Class
Height: 179cm
Weight: 310KG
Gender: Male

Combat Analysis: Partial Guardian training, knowledge of wide variety of ‘traditional’ fighting styles (Spear, Staff, Sword, Mace, Katana) that appear to have their roots in pre-space flight cultures.
Anthropological Analysis: ‘Arrogant Teenager’ equivalent.
Psychological Analysis: Extreme delusions of grandeur, possible belief in self as divine entity, upbringing details unknown but it appears this belief was fostered and encouraged. Short tempered but controlled in presence of older Aethans, excessive risk taking behaviour, may literally believe he is invincible and immortal, considers self the ultimate authority on all matters.  Can be extremely persuasive when desired, potentially incredibly dangerous if delusional beliefs are not countered.
SITL: 160


With a sneer he squeezed the trigger, a hail of maser fire red against off yellow nebulae chattering on the bulbous blue of his target shield, before it did a structure rending reverse thrust then micro jump out of his range.

The pilot had to be Aethan, only one of the Chosen of the Goddesses could be as dextrous as he - for now.

Pulling back into the main fight he deigned to pick off the torpedoes corkscrewing toward the Vis Corvette he was to protect.

He had no need to prove himself to the blue skinned Aelves called the Chiss, he plate their petulatent games only in obedience to his new Guide and Mentor, the Seraphim Lord Valens.

Everyday upon the sacred world of Aethas, every lesson and moment with his new guide Maekal had felt his strength grow in ways inconceivable before. 

By a God's followers was their power known, it was evident to him now the Three Goddesses of Aethas were far superior to the Hextarion that had sought to use him, child of the Goddesses, to augment their throngs of petty mortal worshippers, a thousand -nay a million! - of which were not worth a single Child of Aethas.

While Valens denied it Maekal was certain he had been lifted to the next stage of his inevitable Divinity.  Far from the narrow confines of a single planet to a celestial stage. 

With the same cool indifference he would swat Ingetti sparmen aside he blasted the Torpedoes three by three, sniffing as the Corvette comm clicked appreciation, he was already peeling away, up ahead was a target worthy of his effort, the Cssa Cruiser, trading blows at range with a Ryn firagte and its escort.

“Vis-Tydk Seven you are passing the escort range limit, return at once,” the tactical officer on the Corvette warned.

His face scrunched in self control not to telekinetically crunch the life from the red eyed Aelf.

Maekal’s time would come, he would learn the secrets of the Aelves machine golems, the powers of the Seraphim Aethans, exceed Valens, Jarys, even the Avatar of the Goddesses Milaea herself, and ascended to ever higher levels - not ‘as foretold’ as Arr-Kesh the old fool might have said referencing ancient prophecy...no ‘As I Tell’ was Maekals new injunction, for he was his own Prophet of Glory now.

<<<<>>>>

Jenaea
(https://i.ibb.co/8dvjXP3/The-100-Thirteen-Image-HU307a-0266-Pictured-Alycia-Debnam-Carey-as-Lexa-Credit-Liane-Hentscher-The-C.jpg) (https://ibb.co/8dvjXP3)
ODSC Rank: Commando First Class
Height: 175cm
Weight: 280KG
Gender: Female

Combat Analysis: Guardian training. bespoke Jedi self defence training from Sofa. Unusually prescient ability to avoid danger.

Anthropological Analysis: ‘Breeding Years’ female, bonded to Maeson, cottage industry producer.

Psychological Analysis: Slavery Trauma still evident in disrespect for authority and (often unnecessary and self defeating) disobedience, insults toward, and undermining of any instrctuion of senior officers. This seems to be treated by the Tribe as a positive, a ‘devil's advocate’ check on those in authority, not dissimilar to Lyaea’s role as the ‘Naughty’ member of the tribe allowed to play pranks and tricks.   
SITL: 155

With a flick of her wrist she avoided another hail of fire before the enemy pilot had even pulled the trigger.

Her ‘talent’ in full operation.

Years trying to avoid electrocution or a beating had given Jenaea a danger prescience more accurate than anyone else.  She just knew exactly when and where something bad was coming from before it came and so could avoid it.

It had driven all her instructors so far crazy when they tried to prove the point anyone could get hit, in martial arts or fighter combat, when she continually avoided them even after all the other People had taken a hit.

To her it was just another way to avoid being imposed upon, demanded of, made to play someone else's game.

She wove through the budding firefight seemingly untouched, of course that ‘invincibility’ wasn’t much use to her team Cssa intent on blasting the Beacon  Evyn was even now hacking to take control of.

Evaea and Kassyndra were twirling round each other trying to knock the other out, both now the only survivors of their squads after a hard clash, Lydan somewhere holding th line from the Vis getting even more splattered than they were as the Cssa and ryn forces generally ignored each other.

She supposed she should do something about that.

Expertly weaving by the chill of her spines danger sense she came straight behind Evyns Claw craft on a perfect attack heading, ploughing maser fire at him before he could react, deftly swinging at the last possible moment to avoid his quads mates intercept.

Yeah she could avoid danger alright, up to the point it was so endemic she was covered in it. What she really needed to master, in a fighter, was slipping away just as quietly.

Too late to avoid she needed an aggressive boost - imagining her former ‘masters’ face leering from each claw craft cockpit she spun viciously into the pursuing craft head on.

<<<<>>>>

Karintha
(https://i.ibb.co/KNrr81d/Kar-10.jpg) (https://ibb.co/KNrr81d)
ODSC Rank: Lieutenant
Height: 176cm
Weight: 285KG
Gender: Female
Combat Analysis: Advanced Guardian training, Expert in Malacia attacks, strong tactical and strategic potential.
Anthropological Analysis: Prospective Leader.  Considers herself to be the natural inheritor of the role of matriarch having been groomed for such before her nominal ‘death’. Considers it her ‘divine’ right to subtly influence other members of the Tribe in ways which she deems beneficial.
Psychological Analysis: Shows the highest of level of confidence in leadership roles,  strong long term focus, generally affable toward ‘outsiders’ provided they remain compliant with Aethan desires, or at least do not interfere with them.  ‘Resurrection time skip’ renders her drastically less impacted by recent trauma’s and arguably the most culturally and psychologically stable.
>Preferred Leader>
SITL: 180


The second beacon fell to Ryn team, captured and secured despite Jenaea’s dogged efforts that left half a Ryn flight drifting powered down.  when she needed to Jenaea could be a fierce fighter - but only when needed.

The time on Csilla had taught Karintha not only much about outsiders, but also her own People, how their experience molded all by loss was affecting their actions and interaction - for better and worse.

“Alright kiddies time to really join the Party,” the Ryn ‘Admiral’ for the day ordered.  It was, by a few subtle manipulations on her part, Taryn, whom she knew was far best placed to lead any space battle to victory.

She determined the calculation for the - some Chiss officers had claimed suicidal - micro jump manually ignoring the nav computers red blurts of protest.

The streak of stars gave her a moment to reflect how in the preceding months  she had seen more clearly how the Devastation had impacted each individual differently and in the motnous rote tasks the Chiss assigned her found time to consider how to utilize each strength and weakness against the ther to benefit the People as a Matriarch must.

Some things had occurred naturally under the goddesses guidance, Taryn and Lyaea well matched given their energy levels and ‘outsider’ attenuation, Melron’s influence was maturing the boy more rapidly than Taryn realised, his roguelike confidence useful but still needed tempering.

Aresaea was providing the detached and pragmatic point of view Milaea needed, Milaea offered Ari companionship and drew out her creativity.  What that pair needed was a few discrete presses to lock the jigsaw of their personalities that bit more perfectly. 

Maeson and Jenaea were a natural pair, he provided protective patience, Jenea could not replace the family Maeson had lost, but a new one to focus on, and together they would make excellent parents for the cloned babies

The elders, Kassyndra and Melron, a steady presence for the others, but perhaps more effective if they presented as a couple, Karintha would guide them to that end - as focused as they were on their children and grandchildren an interpersonal connection would invigorate them both.

Lydan was a good boy, but relied too heavily on his young wife, mother and sisters encouragement for his confidence, he was recovered enough now to be a more active protector of the People. Xanaea’s adoption was keeping Selaena from her murderous brooding, Adaea was always content with her sewing and crafting of weapons, Lyaea managing the Extolled well...but Karintha knew they would have to keep an closer eye on their ‘devotees’, some of whom were showing less devotion than previously.

As to the others - Evaea had a desperate need to prove herself, Maekal an arrogant assumption of superiority,  paired together they could blunt each other's sharper edges.

Evyn was dutiful and diligent, but needed to be drawn from his singular obedience to his twin sister, to that end Karintha would have him paired with Nyaea - the traumatized girl would find no better stable and calm partner to help her recover.

Yorna straddled the younger generation physically and emotionally, but the older generation culturally due to the ‘death’ time skip, her natural compassion and curiosity could act as bridge between the two

The other adults still made up the core of the Peoples leadership and martial force - Sofa, Kiraea, Valens, and Jarys, they would benefit most from the reduced burden upon their shoulders, as more People were able to take up their responsibilities - Karintha most of all - giving the married couples more time to focus on their own relationships, and soon enough - if Sofa had her way - birthing a new generation.

And as to herself...while Karintha would soon have the People as a whole to guide as Matriarch...she knew she would still spend more than a few wasted minutes staring into the Obelisks hoping to hear a whisper from Taran. 

That her husband's body had never been found was proof he had been taken, but that no one had heard of him seemed incongruous with his status as adult Guardian at the time of the Devastation...Jarys, Kiraea and Valens, all weaker than he was - at the time - had survived...and while aware there were numerous threats capable of ending a Guardian across the galaxy...she couldn’t shake the conviction as firm as her confidence that she was to reign as Matriarch that her husband was still alive somewhere.

She had discussed such with Yorna one evening, who explained she had vague memories of the strange netherworld between life and death she had sent her soul through with Ari and Mili’s help to cheat death, and in that place she had felt her own betrothed Coryn - Taran’s nephew - was alive, alone, searching though lost in time and space. 

Once all Nine Obelisks were active, the Observatory refined with a far more precise aetheric map of the Galaxy, then they could search for them in earnest. 

For now she had a battle to win.

The Ryn squads jumped out of the tunnel of pseudo motion dangerously close to the last Beacon, already awash with Vis and Vssa fighters and their remaining capital ships unleashing on each other, the last Vis reserves swinging in to try and flank.

Relying on the expertise of those to whom she had delegated her invisible authority she glided her hands to throw up shields and push the motivators she took control of the Claw Craft just as she would the People as a whole, balancing the resources within the tiny bubble to weave safely and triumphantly through the chaos of the war ravaged hostile galaxy.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 14, 2021, 05:16:19 AM
Chapter 30 — Dramatis Personae — Part 3

Taryn
(https://i.ibb.co/hZhBXbZ/Taryn-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/hZhBXbZ)
ODSC Rank: Lieutenant
Height: 182cm
Weight: 305 KG
Gender: Male

Combat Analysis: Advanced Guardian training, extensive experience in piratical space warfare and boarding actions, tactically inventive with limited resources and time pressures.

Anthropological Analysis: Rebellious Teen equivalent slowly maturing.

Psychological Analysis: ambiguous attitude toward authority, while often deriding and sarcastic, shows great respect for competency in keeping with Aethan Meritocratic instincts.  Surprisingly stable in consideration of upbringing, snide confidence appears to be effective coping mechanism, however some evidence of memory and personality tampering by Milaea and Lyaea may account for the majority of his overall stability.  Ambiguous attitude toward outsiders.  Suggest monitoring for more extensive command role in CEDF Fourth Expansionary Sphere plans
SITL: 170


“Vent those Zeffers and pop the skips boys, give-em a board full of mites,”

Well he would’ve said that on the Kyala...but here it was

“Execute Besh protocol,”

His wing of twelve calw craft simultaneously ejected their secondary batteries and fired off two missiles straight ahead without any lock.

The batteries would show up as ‘bogies’ on the chiss scanners, he twenty four missiles would clutter the 3 dimensional holo-radar with so many signals that for a crucial 20 to 30 seconds it would appear they were under attack by 24 fighters firing one missile each.

The Chiss, as they always did, Taryn had learned, immediately switched to formations to counter exactly 24 new arrivals - it left them moving on vectors that would place them too spread out to effectively counter a more clustered wing of twelve fighters. 

They realised the error in 22.3 seconds, marginally better than he had predicted, but too late to save the squad his twelve had covered away from the cover of their frigate support.

The Vis fighters scrambled but were laced apart by maser fire as his last two corvettes dropped in above them all, their broadsides pointing down so they were perpendicular to the ‘plane’ of the battle unleashing on the last Cssa frigate, it’s shields quickly popping off, then hull sparking ion.

He didn’t smile, didn’t gloat.  This was all business.  Stiff as the Chiss were he couldn’t fault their dogged skills and smooth flying, if he was gonna show ‘em who was boss he had to play and beat them at their own games, that took patience and planning.

“Heh...guess some of those life lessons do stay solid in a Squog party Old Man,”

Inertial dampers at only quarter power so he could ‘feel’ the sleek claw craft - and divert extra power to weapons he accelerated to maximum.

His first target had to tbe the Cssa, can’t capture the beacon if they blast it - he used the corvettes fire to hem their last few fighters in, Kassyndra and Jenaea thomily avoiding his fighters going for a ramming speed in the absence of missile to take it out, he had to sacrifice two fighters to Evaea and her Vis buddies to get them.

“Ryn-Quek-3,4,5 get those Vis buggers off us,” he ordered knowing that would send Karintha and Evyn after Evaea...while a few of the Chiss pilots were pretty ace their soer reflexes meant he could always tell who was an Aethan pilot, they pushed the Claw Craft far harder, too hard, he could friction burns and shear stress fractures on the wings of the Aethan piloted craft where their sudden movements had been too much for the inertial dampers to compensate.

A few more orders and he split off with Ryn-Quek-2 and Ryn-Yoan 1 and 2 to take the fight straight to the beacon where the last of the Vis were assembling intent on running down the time on the exercise with block hard orbits to prevent his hackers getting through.

No he grinned as he accelerated

“Time to bite the dust baby,”

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea
(https://i.ibb.co/4MZ8BzQ/TERMINATOR-THE-SARAH-CONNOR-CHRONICLES-Cameron-Summer-Glau-reassures-John-in-the-Born-To-Run-season.jpg) (https://ibb.co/4MZ8BzQ)
ODSC Rank: Lieutenant
Height: 176cm
Weight: 283KG
Gender: Female

Combat Analysis: Guardian and Vhal’Dan training, broad range of abilities, close quarters combat, Stealth and Mind control techniques speciality.

Anthropological Analysis: Standard ‘young Female role’, displays no attraction to any of the males in the current Cadet party.  While showing leadership competencies, utilizes them only when directly required, preferring collaborative approach in decision making.

Psychological Analysis: Adoption by ‘Outsider’ parents had resulted in overall positive to neutral view of outsiders (relative to other Aethans), several years of isolation prior to this and subsequent traumas regarding discretion of uncle body may have lingering effects yet to be observed against outwardly calm demeanour. 

SITL: 180


Her time with the Chiss had been crammed.  The Induction course for the Orbital Drop Shock Commando regiment shortened to account not just for Aethan neuolorigal superiority in learning but also Aethan ability to source memories.

She started the course having already absorbed Adaea’s knowledge of Chiss electrical engineering and aeronautics, Melrons mastery of Forbelean Defense, and Maesons advanced knowledge of Chiss weapons technology.  The main thrust of the induction was the inculcation of less concrete, cultural and procedural, norms of the Chiss.

It was to these notions she now adhered as she flew in perfect formation with the last full wing of Vis fighters trying to stave off the impressively vicious Ryn advance.

Ari found the Chiss an astounding Military force.  Their technology was broadly compatible with what she had seen among the Vhal’dan, but sufficiently novel to give them a strong edge when combined with their military ethos - outstanding logistical efficiency, unquestionable hierarchy and strict meritocracy - ensured by having all CEDF members renounce on oath Clan allegiance and interests - all made for a force that would outclass even the most advanced Republic defence forces.  Though considering the Ascendancies position in the Unknown Regions and the myriad threats therein, anything less than perfection would be fatal.

If they had one weakness it was perhaps they were...cold...not mechanical but something else, something formal and controlled, deadly in its way but lacking life.  Compared to how the crew of the Vhal’Dan flagship Grungir had felt in the aether when Kazic had taken her on a brief tour of the vessel in dry dock for upgrades years ago, it seemed when push came to shove while the Vhal’dan could fall back on the warmer camaraderie of their crewmates who were also friends, the Chiss had only the steel of self discipline and hierarchy - strong undoubtedly, but brittle against the wrong enemy,

They also lacked a Force Sensitive Corps - no doubt why they had been open to an alliance with the People.  She had run a number of scenarios on the Chiss tactical emulators against the only force she knew in detail - the Vhal’dan Fleet and Army - in every scenario (Invasion of Galtea or Invasion of Csilla) the Chiss - with a 12 unit Aethan support to counter Large Scale Force attacks - won by a decent margin - Vhal’dan Force superiority that might have balance Chiss technological advantage neutered by Aethan support.

Even accounting for a certain bias in their own favour on the Chiss emulators, the results were in keeping with her own estimations.

Still as she had watched the results scroll by she had felt a strange sense of reverse deja-vu, as if she was looking at something she would see - in part if not in whole - again sometime in the near future.

At that moment she had desperately wanted to ask Milaea to analyse the sensation...but of course she was far away on Aethas. The pang of her absence was surprisingly sharp in the quiet of the Strategium datacogitators that lined the Chiss Destroyers server room.

The relentless regimented chores of Chiss day/night cycles - modified to account for Aethan ability to remain awake almost indefinitely by cycling conscious neural levels, kept her occupied mostly, but the itch of missing Milaea remained even as she took in the scene before her.

The majority of fighters now floated ‘ dead’, powered down pending the end of the exercise, a scattering of remaining Ryn fighters harassed the Cssa and Vis defenders, hunting them down in packs of three or four onto one.

The Ryn Corvettes had been neutralised but at the cost of the Vis Cruiser, it’s hull finally giving out to a number of ‘sonic charges’ lobbed beneath the shields frequency, the chargeless bombs bouncing off the doonium in imitation of detonation.

Her Flight had only four fighters to add to the defence, even if she could take three or four herself, they would still lose out.   

But they would still fight all the same.

In  rough diamond pattern they moved into missile lock range and began targeting, allowing their computers to obtain locks but firing at other targets manually confusing the enemy responses long enough to reposition in a forward facing square pattern by the time they reached maser range.

Half a dozen Ryn fighters curved off to engage them, the others escorting their capture tug toward the last beacon, a lone Cssa fighter occupying the remaining Ryn by trying to ram the objective, forcing the Ryn to bash it with close range laser to knock it off course then try and down it fully before it could try again.

Kassyndra Ari thought, Milaea’s grandmother was not warrior-like, but she was quietly persistent.

Ari spun and twisted against the Ryn fighters fire, their formations were changing wildly in response to every trick they tried, she knew Taryn must be among them as the Chiss, for all their precision and co-ordination had a certain lack of flair that Taryn must be contributing to them.

That and the maddening turns on of the Claw Craft was making that only an Aethan could pull without experiencing violent motion sickness.

He had to be her target, without him the other pilots were more evenly matched.

Banking hard enough to make her shift in her seat she aimed to catch the side of his fighter, setting her maser cannons to rapid fire, less impact but more chance of hitting the fast moving target.  A handful of blasts bounced off the shields he seemed to ignore her going after any fighter that his wingmates were pressing.

Brow furrowing she pressed harder, slightly annoyed as Taryn waggled his fighter in mockery of her efforts.  Ari knew from months before Taryn was an expert at getting under someone's skin with his bravado so persistent and crass it was hard to ignore. 

Focused, clear of mind he harassed him relentlessly forcing him to break off, relieving if not removing pressure, and as he switched power from shields to engines to gain distance she saw a chance...one she wouldn’t take.

Hitting full reverse thrust on the port jets only she spun round, the Claw crafts doonium bones groaning again, then shot the afterburners to round on the Ryn fighters nearest the beacon, blasting two to ion sparking dead floats in as many seconds and firing missiles to force a third to scatter.

By now Taryn was on her tail, but it didn’t matter, her flight group’s two remaining fighters were free to take out the capture tug, their missile locks and trajectories unhampered by Ryn fighters they ‘destroyed’ it as Ari’s own fighter lost shields and functionality.

A three way tie between the teams.

She smiled and leaned back as her claw craft floated offline waiting for recall orders as the battle field was cleared.

<Nice flying Poppet, we’ll make a Skirt Ace of you yet> Taryn telepathically nudged, she sent a ‘smile’ back and broadened her aura to take in the others, feeling out the cocktail of anxieties, pride, worry, arrogance, hope and guilt that flowed from and through the People.

She tried to exude a sense of control and calm back, of progress in their induction, success in the competition and other assignments. 

But as she gazed idly into the depths of the Unknown regions through the haze of the browning yellow nebulae she felt her own mind and heart pulled in two directions ‘behind’....Aethas where Milaea was and Galtea where the rest of her family was.

There was no reasons he couldn’t have them both of course, she looked forward to the day she would finally get to introduce Milaea to Kazic and Saani as her...as her…

She shuffled in her seat almost missing the curt order to power up and return to the carrier.

As her Friend...but something kept nagging that it wouldn’ be that simple.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 14, 2021, 05:18:07 AM
Chapter 30 — Dramatis Personae Act 2 — Part 4
Nyaea

(https://i.ibb.co/VYrkBGP/Nyaea2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/VYrkBGP)
“So I’m like Erymis the Shepherd?”  Nyaea asked as she blinked out the odd light shone in her eyes

The folk tale told of a young Shepherd who, chasing a young gromin, found himself far from his herd in a cave as night fell.  Taking shelter there he fell asleep only to awake and find his herd gone, his farmstead destroyed and the large village empty and everything changed, those he had known as babes now grown.

“That’s a good analogy,” The woman, older than Nyaea by a few years and yet born barely months after Nyaea’s long sleep began named Milaea agreed.

Nyaea remembered the attack, being taken away, sold by ugly green things...the ugly brain headed ‘Siniteen’ putting her in the cold liquid, then waking up in the Caverns of Aephrodaea - Kassyndra from the Mountain Village and the Guardian Karintha had been there, she knew them from sight at the Gatherings, they had to go on a long journey and entrusted her to Xanaea a younger teenage girl she didn’t remember at all to look after.

While Kassyndra and Karintha along with many others had to go to a distant land called Csilla, she was staying with Xanaea and her Aunt Selaena, Milaea visiting often to check her using powerful healing spells and giving her strange potions like old Scintaea had used.

Nyaea began to twitch nervously as Milaea finished her quick examination.  The minor tremors a subconscious fear response to having anyone too close to her for too long understandable given the traumatic history Milaea and Selaena knew about but Xani, and Nyaea herself did not.

It had been a disturbingly easy decision to ‘isolate’ Nyaea’s more traumatic memories before waking her, far less so for Milaea than had been the case working on Taryn following his ‘Episode’.  Anything Milaea could do to help smooth Nyaea’s recovery she would, in this case it involved severing memory linkages in her unconscious mind. 

Over time she would gradually recall all the events that had occurred, but with the delay they could ensure it was a managed process and not a flood of traumatic memories.

It allowed Nyaea the chance to resettle in her home world and culture however changed and forge new bonds with People she didn’t know well before the Devastation to ensure she had as much support as possible. 

Milaea also hoped the ‘drip feed’ would allow Aethan neurological ‘resets mechanisms’ that made their psychology so different from other humanoids, an easier time in nullifying traumatic memories.  Kiraea’s recent experience had shown as sudden large trauma could, temporarily, overwhelm the system designed to make them immune to the horrors of warfare and loss. 

For Nyaea the loss of family, time and dislocation was enough to deal with for now.

“Alright all finished,” Milaea pulled away gently collecting up her small bag of instruments, jotting down key physiology variables - not for her own eidetic memory, but for the building of a more comprehensive database on Aethan recovery.

“You’re doing really well, you too Xani,” she nodded to the youngest of them waiting patiently across Selaena’s large hearth room.

The foundling from Carratos had thrived in the year and a half since her rescue, growing fifteen centimeters and putting on nearly 60 kilograms.  While still slightly under height and weight for her age of fifteen, her reset biology, tuned every few weeks by Selaena, was catching her up fast after a childhood of scavenging on outsider foods.

Noting Xanis darting eyes Milaea stood
“You can go off and show Nyaea around some more,”

Like a bolt of lighting Xanaea was grabbing her new friends had.  Xanaea had spent so much time following everyone else around the Valley and learning things she now felt very grown up to be showing Nyaea around.

Nyaea just giggled and followed along, leaving Selaena and Milaea alone.

“No other issues?” Milaea asked,

Selaena simply shook her head taciturn as always.  Milaea had come to appreciate Selaena much more over the last year, seeing her vicious hatred for outsiders was less due to innate Aethan sadism than vicious protectiveness of her children - which included everyone Lydan’s age and younger - indeed she had been insistent on expanding her long house with another main hall section to accommodate Maekal, Evyn, Evaea and Nyaea along with Lydan, Lyaea, Adaea and Xani.

Only Karintha’s word that, given their divergent ‘backgrounds’ some ‘distance to acclimatize’ might be best for the time had forestalled Maeson and Jarys felling the necessary trees on Selaena’s instruction.

Milaea turned and leaned on the flung open doorway watching as Xani began pointing and chattering about the Karintha class transport hovering beside the house, the only visible sign of technology for miles...of course beneath the floorboards was a veritable armoury of Selaena and her older childrens weapons.

Nyaea felt them watching her as Xani chatted about how repulsors worked by investing ionic charge in a stabilized ovoid loop limited to 0.5 meters around the hull.  None of which made any sense to her.  She was just glad to be in the open air and under the protective gaze of the other women.

Since coming back home she’d been having nightmares of a cramped but bright room, bad things happened in there, but what she wasn’t sure...it scared her...but each day waking to the fresh earthy smell of Selaena’s longhouse set her instantly at ease.

She was safe here, nothing could harm her in the Valley, free to wander with Xanaea anywhere apart from the deep forests where the Vorynx were wild.

As glad as she as to be awake again, it was saddening to know she had missed so much time...to awaken to the news she had lost so many friends….they were trying to find them with the ‘Obaealisks’...maybe oneday she could help.

“...and then that is connected by a Ceramic circuit to the main controls,” Xanea finished explaining very proud of her own memory of the ships systems.

Xani knew she asked many questions, sometimes she felt bad bothering people - though everyone always made time for her - but there was so much to learn!

“These are the best ships I think,” she went on “because People designed them, the Chiss helped and supply the parts, but we make them better,”

“Chiss...the blue people?” Nya asked

“Yes they are like Aelves in the old stories Melron tells...do you know any stories?”

Nyaea smiled

“Lots, we had a very big book full of them written by my great grandparents,” she looked wistfully toward the west

“My Mormor - grandmother - said our ancestors were ‘Libraeariaeans’ in a great marble building before the Collapse with thousands of books and scrolls...I wonder if the book is still there…”

Xanaea was almost bursting with excitement.
“Let’s go look do you know the way! Will you tell me all about the Libraeariaeans on the way! Aunty Sel can we go!” she yelled back to the house.

“Stay on the main tracks,” Selaena permitted.

They did as they were told, Nyaea telling Xani the tales her Mormor and Morfar had told her, then Xani telling Nya a few more stories about the land of Carratos she had been rescued from.

“It sounds like a very ugly place,” Nyaea whispered

“It is...and smelly too..” Xani breathed deep from an atmosphere abundant in gases not present on most humanoid worlds her body was designed to imbue.
“I’m much happier home here,”

Home here for Nyaea was just over the rise.  The Potters village long abandoned consisted of only 11 buildings and the communal hall.  Seeing the creeping spread of grasses and shrubs onto the once immaculately swept cobblestone streets was a shock.

Breathing to calm herself Nyaea distracted herself by telling Xani all about who had lived in each house, many with attached workshops, even if the People were gone they could, so the old stories said, be brought back in some way each time they were remembered.

Finally she came to her own home, a larger two storey place, the windows and door jammed with leaf and dirt from two decades of neglect.  Prying out the hardened dirt with sticks and rocks they opened the door to a gasp of dusty air.

The house and small scholarium had been closed up for her families fateful journey to the Gathering, apart from a dusty layer and scattering of trapped kreemoths dried on window sills, everything was as she had left it.

Pre-empting her curiosity Nyaea told Xani of how the children of the village would come here to learn their letters and numbers, the adults to keep records and trade books, how People and Guardians from all the valley would come to use the printing press, one of only two in the valley, to make up notices and manuals on all manner of topics they had practised, from farming and mining, to mathematics and sewing patterns.

There were still unbound pages of a short pamphlet on ‘Kree-bee life cycles and the care and improvement of the Apiary Volume 6. - observations over last twelve seasons in the Northern Valley - of much benefit to all apiarists to be read - by Jasaea, Karys and Iryn’

Nyaea’s hand trailed over the manuscript, written crosswise on reed paper to save space, remembering setting out the letters one by one with her father.

An entire world whose loss she had slept through yet didn’t touch her dreams.

Ever empathetic she soon found Xani beside her looking concerned.

For now Nyaea let the vague nightmares remain in the dark while she turned to the afternoon light streaking in uneven beams through the grotty windows.

“Come on, let's find the old story books!”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 14, 2021, 05:31:39 PM
Being a stat-nut min/maxer, I absolutely LOVE the dossier-like dramatis personae list, especially as it relates to the Chiss-measured "Standardised Individual Threat Level" (SITL), made even better as a literary device in-story^^

...I've GOT to do something like that, stealing borrowing from LSG's SITL scale.  Of course, Zearic, D'Aylanna, Jorya, and even Kazic will be lower in terms of raw power...but that's what makes for great conflict  ;D

This was the perfect "breather" episode, allowing for a nice time-jump as well as a reintroduction of the "newer" Aethans, all told with the backdrop of Space Combat Training (more of this please  ;)).  Taken in conjunction with our established cast, it actually gives us a frightening window into just HOW much was lost versus how much has changed (considering that the Devastation was an actual cultural genocide perpetrated by the Sith from the time of the New Sith Wars, one wonders how the Aethans can bounce back from such a calamity).

However, there is a point of hope: with Karintha coming to her own, she could very well become the new Matriarch for the Aethans; she certainly has the qualifications, temperament, and intuition for the position (which will go A LONG WAY in helping to alleviate the burden that Mili has been carrying all of this time).  Definitely an Aethan to keep an eye on...

Nyaea's case is definitely one of the most poignant: she represents (along with the in-story mention of Kiraea's loss) that despite engineering (biological as well as cultural), too much trauma will still result in PTSD.  Which brings up another point: Mili's "rewrite" of Nya's memories is definitely a boon, but how far can such go until it becomes invasive?  Of course, Aethan cultural norms being what they are, this is all academic (or more precisely, moot) but it does establish an undercurrent of pathos that makes the tragedies of the People that much more horrific.

One of my favorite scenes: Ari and her feelings for Mili.  Makes perfect sense that she would have such trepidations despite the nearest context for comparison, in this case: Kazic and Saani.  After all, just how much can one's parents help when it comes to matters of the heart?  Absolutely brilliant^^


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 23, 2021, 01:59:43 AM
Remnant — Part 5 — Exploitation — Part 1
See http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36209.msg604592#msg604592 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36209.msg604592#msg604592)
Then
FourNine bumped his round head against Masters leg again and again, but there was no response.

He blurted his warning at the highest pitched the squeakers could produce, still Master stared blankly ahead.

Every since the [Unidentified] had put him on the ground Master had acted without reference to normal Logic behavioural parameters, exceeding reason buffers.

Master, FourNine deduced had corrupted software.  Why else would he override the Navicomputers warnings and program a heading of 0-0-0 - the Black Hole centre of the Galaxy.

FourNines Emergency response subroutines kicked in as the engines whirred, building up power for the jump.

His analysis indicated an astonishing 99.9999 percent likelihood of imminent destruction for Master.  This was in violation of Asimov Rule Aleph - A Droid may not injure a sentient being or, through inaction, allow a sentient being to come to harm.

He therefore had to override the Masters conscious intentions, which were corrupted, and intervene.

Spinning his body round FourNine shot out his scomplink into the ships access port, rapidly taking control of the Navicomputer and altering the coordinates to then nearest charted habitable system where Master could be put in for repairs and Software reboot.

Satisfied FourNine oversaw the jump to hyperspace then, as Master powered down, returned to his charging dock pending translation to realspace.  

<<<<>>>>

Now

Everyday the quota grew.

Everyday his body became more wretched and he was forced to draw more and more on that…that…thing that helped him…

He no longer counted the days, not even the weeks…not that he could there was hardly much light on the moons of Gernon to chart at all.

Gripping his most faithful companion, the two handed mining drill, he bore another chunk from the rock, the teeth ever duller.

Perhaps that was the best way to record time, when the teeth were changed…as it was that had happened only three times each at his insistence it could take no more. He wondered if it would be different now.

Something had changed ‘recently’, the only change of note since he was awoken on a vessel of some kind a droid poking him awake, he had no memory of what had happened or who he was…stumbling about the vessel he’d managed to send a distress signal…

He would’ve been better if he hadn’t.  He’d been found by the ‘Grand Fleet of Prakith’ questioned and then thrown into the mines of Gernon as a ‘spy’.  That was long ago.

“Ready?” Huc asked behind him

“Ready,” he replied

Huc pushed past best he could the brick sized mineral scanner in his hand.  Apparently the King had died or something, and the new King wanted some very specific minerals only found at the deepest layers of the moon…and even then only in tiny amounts, perhaps a few ryza-grains in size at most.

“Nothing…” Huc sighed

“Back to it Drift,”

Drift was his name, he remembered no other…Drift because his ship was found drifting.

Hauling up the Mining Drill he began to grind away again.

<<<<>>>>

It was hardly any wonder mine output was pathetic.

Ranks of greasy underfed men and women crowded into the shabby dock the air thick with choking dust.

Fifth stared across the mass of wretched humanity, the front ranks cowering at his super-human presence.

Gernon was the mining and agricultural hub of the ‘Kingdom of Prakith’ and it was his task to increase its output dramatically so they could improve upon the decrepit ‘Fleet’ they had inherited and even more importantly obtain Blackstone to repair their armor and weapons and build a signaling orb to try and contact Aethas.

So far after three months they had only 500 grams of Blackstone. Not even 1 percent of what was needed.  The moons of Gernon were devoid of sufficient quantities…they would need to go elsewhere, but first they would need better ships making the mining here equally important if now repointed in focus.

“This is unacceptable…” he seethed behind his Aegis helm to the Overseer
“…these workers need food and rest…”

“Dey needs a whippin what dey need m’Lord,” the brute replied.

Fifth scowled beneath his helm. Labour inputs needed to be maintained as well as equipment – which itself was beneath abhorrent in condition - to ensure maximum productivity.  

In the case of humanoid sentient this required not just nutritional inputs but also an affirming psycho-social environment.

This overseer did not comprehend that.

Without warning a black streak gripped the Overseers throat and crushed it into a comically long thin strand gushing blood before the body collapsed under the frightened gaze of the workers.

Fifth scanned the crowd with the aether taking in the relative dispositions of the emotional beings.  

He still understood emotions even if he did not experience them, such knowledge was crucial to Purgatio Astra – to know one's enemy was imperative.  

And the Technocracy had millions of them.

Finally in the back was a shocked looking emaciated man with a flicker of the aether about him, skin lighter than the others, bones stronger as Fifth probed more…he did not belong here…had lost something of himself long before but retained the essence of a compassionate, productive moralistic philosophy.

He would do.

“You,”

Drift swallowed as the black giant pointed straight to him, the others moving as far from Drift as physically possible in the confined mess hall leaving him utterly alone.

“You are the Overseer now,”

<<<<>>>>

12.3 per cent.

That was economic growth in the last standard year.  It had averaged 11 per cent in the five since the…New Order had begun.

Chancellor Teshk skimmed through the rest of the details, all major indices were up, mining output, manufacturing, agricultural production, productivity and hours worked.

That statistics of this kind were recorded at all was a minor miracle.

In five years the Shadow Lords of Prakith - as the people called their six new monolithic masters decked in Light eating armour – had advanced Prakith and its colonies economy more than in the last five hundred.  

This was overawed only by vast improvements in living conditions, education programs had boosted literacy from below 30 to over 60 per cent of the adult population, health care no longer relied on yokel remedies and vagrant doctors but proper medical centres.  

He should be happy, overjoyed that he had assisted, in however small a part, to see this transformation…and yet it terrified him.

Running his hand over his gaunt face, cheek and chins peppered by unshaved stubble the summoning bell chimed, he was being called to the new ‘Queens’ side.

Swallowing back his fear he slid on his official robes and took his staff of Office from the now polished golden rest hooks.

The Eternal Fortress he walked through at last looked like a genuine place of government and defence, walls reinforced, lighting systems repaired, ventilation improved.  Again it was a vast improvement and yet…

Yet he knew nothing of the why of it.  Five years he had served his new masters, he still knew none of their names, had seen none of their faces for they never removed their enormous armour - indeed he wondered if armour it truly was.

He implemented their dictates, had seen in the first months ministers, nobles and industrialists come before them in three’s and fours, flop to the floor, eyes rolling back in their heads, mouths drooling as ‘orders’ were implanted…

These orders forced into the minds of thousands had created this revolution of wealth, and yet he still could not understand why.

Passing the Prakith Royal Guard – in drab grey armour that was functional rather than decorative fitting the utilitarian philosophy of the Shadow Lords he wondered if today it would finally be him to be mind twisted…

...or perhaps he already had been and he didn’t know it?

Would he then wonder about being mind controlled if he already was...?  

It could drive a man mad.

The vast doors opened to the throne room, redecorated to be light, airy, a gleaming symbol of a new ‘enlightened’ age…and yet at the centre….

At the Centre stood three beings, 3 metres tall, vast overproportioned humanoid bodies that ate all the light about them.

“Chancellor,” The middle one spoke as the other two bowed their heads in silent submission before departing, the air seeming to flee before them.  No one ever overheard their private conversations.

“Our scouts have located a promising mining world.”

Of the few things Teshk had surmised of the Shadow Lord's motivations was exploring deep into the core.  

The Prakith fleet had been the first thing they overhauled, the captains and officers all mentally subsumed to be utterly obedient and efficient, indeed arguably all the other economic improvements were laying the groundwork to support the fleet's expansion.  

New ships, better fed, educated and healthier crews, all the better to send out ‘colonial scouts’ seeking new systems to inhabit…but always toward the core never away.

“It’s designation is DC_10004568 on the Republic Charts…”

That was another thing Teshk had noticed, their insatiable appetite for knowledge from the Republic and ability to recall minute details.

“You will prepare a full scale mining colony fleet to be deployed within three months, volunteers if possible, drafting if required,”

He didn’t doubt volunteers would be forthcoming, the populace were benefitting so much materially from the economic and social reforms a significant number had taken to worshipping the Shadow Lords rather than the Old Sith and Ancestral Pantheons.

Teshk bowed his clean simplified robes gently rustiling rather than jangling as they had laden with ornamentation under the old kings.

“It will be done Lord,”

As he shuffled backward he felt a press on his mind

“You have a question Chancellor?” the one that spoke said - it was only ever the same one that spoke in the genderless echo like sound from its helmet.
“No My Lord I….”

“You wish to know why we have left your mind unaltered, why you are able to contemplate the very question of whether we have ensnared you or not?”

“I…” he felt a sudden urge to vomit, a faintness falling over his eyes that speckled colours as his face drained.

“You are a useful Chancellor, you have a mind for management, you can implement the tasks we delegate, for we know you serve willingly...you have seen the decay and stupidity of your former monarchs, and know this - however unsettling - is better.”

 “I thank you my lord for your confidence…”

“See that we have no reason to doubt it in the future,”

“You will not lord,” he bowed even lower, relief flooding across his body in warm waves.

<<<<>>>>

They had been here a long time. It was necessary.  

They were only six, there were things they could not do on their own.

They could not mine for blackstone or explore the deep core in the hope of finding Aethas in a meaningful way.  They needed an indentured workforce - Prakith and its colonies provided that.

Reforming the administrative systems had been pathetically easy, scores of leading members of the society implanted with instructions and more importantly revised motivational parameters and obedience failsafes to ensure the economy and in turn the Fleet was advanced to a point it could fulfil their needs.

So far they had succeeded in advancing the Fleet to a point they could establish mining colonies, what had eluded them until a week ago was a location worth mining.

The deep core was full of worlds with high concentrations of heavy elements, and they had mined vast quantities of uranium, plutonium and naquadah, a third traded through Gernon’s port for medical and manufacturing equipment to increase labor and machine productivity.

Only the deepest systems, like Aethas, had ultradense minerals compacted by superdense stars aeons ago.  The existing mines had less that one part per trillion of blackstone, no bloodstone or blackheart at all let alone whitescar.

Now the ‘New Grand Fleet of Prakith’ Scouting force 32, under guidance from vagabond Deep Core miners had found a world with samples sufficient to produce minorcommercial quantities.

Ninth gilded her hands over her armor, it was still dented and pitted from age and damage, they hadn’t enough blackstone to repair even that…let alone pursue the true goal.

Striding to the balcony that overlooked the magma creased canyons around the Eternal Fortress she gazed not at the stars, but the thin grey specks that were outlines of the new orbital drydocks being constructed according to their designs…

They would have their vassals mine the Blackstone and construct a vessel as close to worthy of the Technocracy as humans could produce…in the meantime she and the others would build the true catalyst of their success in implementing Purgatio Astra.

It was a design implanted into their minds during reactivation, the pinnacle of the Technocracies melding of conventional physics, chemistry and aetheric sciences.  

The Technocracy had not survived long enough to complete it, but with the Blackstone on DC_10004568 they would within perhaps a decade have a Complete - programmed - and fully operational Nine Point Obelisk Array.

<<<<>>>>>

While Drift was not sure what the ultradense mineral being mined were to be used for, he trusted in the Shadow Lord's wisdom.

Ever since their coming his life had improved markedly, good food, adequate rest, proper safety equipment for his crews, and he had advanced rapidly by taking advantage of such.

Now he strode the catwalks of the tertiary shafts of DC_10004568 - nicknamed by the crews 'Providence’ - as Director of Mining and Colonisations Operations for the Entire Planet, affirmed by Chancellor Teschk by the blessing of the Lords of Shadow.

The Blackstone was deep in the ground, it had taken over two years just to reach the deposits of value, in which time he had focused on the challenges of establishing the colony topside, issues of obtaining sufficient purified water, algal growth vat facilities for food, basic infrastructure.  

He was proud of his efforts, it felt fulfilling to help people.

There was only one thing nagging at him.  The feels he had always experienced, the chime of a distant song he could only just hear was getting stronger within him, his dreams of other places and times more vivid.

And each time he touched or looked ont he Blackstone, or was in the presence of one of the Shadow Lords on their very rare visits, he felt a strange sickness, as if they themselves were somehow inherently wrong with what a forgotten memory understood as how things should feel.
 
His ruminations were broken by a snapping crack of metal on stone a few levels below. hurrying down, he entered the horizontal gallery to find one of th large speeder sized auto-drill hissing out acrid smoke, the chains about the cogs snapped.

“Anyone hurt!” he called out in the dim light.

“No director…” replied the galleries foreman “But the drill’s frelled…”

Damn that would not please the Chancellor or the Lords

“What did it hit…”

“See for yourself…” The foreman lead him round the ruined piece of equipment past a handful of workers, their yellow one piece work suits grimy glistening black with dust.  The foreman pointed forward arm lit by his helmet light into an abyss.

“Down there?” Drift asked

“Ain’t no down there…”

Drift leaned forward...the foreman was right, what appeared the darkness of a deep tunnel was a solid wall of Blackstone that chilled him to touch, the enormity of the slab of ultradense mineral seemed hungry to be filled with something of his very soul.

Drift snapped his hand back.

“Think the Lords won’t mind a broken drill when they hear ‘bout this ey?” The Foreman smiled insensitive to the Feels that chilled Drift to the bone in the geothermally heated depths.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 23, 2021, 02:03:28 AM
Remnant — Part 5 — Exploitation — Part 2

<Adequate…> Seventh noted as the Hastati finished their kata.  15 Maniples, each of 60 men upon the dusty parade ground located toward the equator of Prakith, one of the few less mountainous regions of the world. 

Third accepted the begrudging affirmation.  Considering the state of the ‘Grand Army of Prakith’ when they had arrived it was a vast improvement.  No longer a half rabble of serfs serving under their ostentatiously dressed nobles. The army was now a professional standing fighting force of 40,000 - eight Legions, an entire new industrial district built to supply the weapons, armour and other materiel to equip, train and deploy them.   

Deploying a legion to garrison each of the petty colony worlds in the ‘Kingdom’ had drastically increased the central power of the state and resultant levees of resources, actions against the vagabond-raider-miner-freebooters that pestered the colonies further entrenched support for their rule.

Satisfied both Aethans turned on the parade ground and walked back into the fortress from the balcony, the Centurions taking over the exercises.

<The fleet has located three planets for expansion, each with populations under 100,000,> Seventh explained without preamble
<A legion will be deployed to conquer each in turn,> 
Their biggest limitation was vessels to ferry their armies

<Seventeen days will be sufficient for preparation to embark> Third agreed, their vastly longer legs and speed of movement already had them on the other side of the fortress, vastly outpacing the handful of new officers.  Until the reforms officers were chosen on the basis of political favour and wealth - Third had disabused them of this practice, the desiccated heads of incompetent generals on the parade ground a reminder that nobility meant nothing in the new Legion.

The conquests of nearby systems would yield only marginal additional resources, the importance was in bloodying the army and the fleet for further expansion to more profitable colonies along the Byss run and beyond.

The industrial capacity of Prakith was beyond woeful, it would take decades to upgrade - it was not worth their investment.

Their next target was the Mining Guild facilities sprinkled coreward of the Empress Teta system. 

The Guild effectively controlled Teta, the Keto dynasty kept compliant by regular royalties on the carbonite the guild sucked from their worlds and demesne systems.   

Fourth's budding spy network had determined many of the Guilds outer facilities were lightly defended - mostly second hand Trade Federation Battle Droids - soft but rich targets to acquire vast amounts of equipment and resources to drastically expand their own capacity before taking the Teta system - and its vastly superior industrial capacity and enormously larger population - itself. 

<Seventeen days is adequate> Ninth communicated halfway across the planet in their constant telepathic link rising from the Dagger Throne descending the Eighteen Steps to see the aether sensitive director of the mining colony, ‘Drift’ kneeling before her, crates full of raw blackstone hauled in by bulky ancient droids and sweating muscled mine workers, the Chancellor looking on with a mix of terror and astonishment.

She dipped her armoured hands in the rough chunks of the ultradense material, too inelegantly broken off the ore body to be forged into weapons or armour, but sufficient to repair the equipment they already had with Aetheric forging and a few thumb sized Link and surveillance Orbs.

<Sixth, progress> she queried the medic of her squad currently in an orbital medical station given over to experimentation.

<The first 10,000 doses are ready,> he replied even as his hands worked the fine needles extracting the hormone and mRNA cocktail to be injected into their soldiers to enhance their combat effectiveness - a crude form of rapid gene editing that would lower their life expectancy by decades - but such was what this backwater world with limited trade links had to work with.

<Then the next phase begins…Aethans Dominabutir Astris> Ninth concluded.

Still bowing before the Shadow Lord, Drift heard the whispers of their thoughts, the chorus of the words Aethans Dominabutir Astris...a frozen fist closed around his spine, a tingling sensation flooded through his head as nameless fears settled into place, vague faces sharpened and an identity thought lost could no longer stand by now his subconscious understood what was happening.

Drift closed his eyes.  A long lost Mak’tor Knight opened his.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 26, 2021, 05:05:40 PM
Talk about foreshadowing, LSG!

We find ourselves BACK on planet DC_10004568...giving us even more significant provenance in Forumverse history.  Certainly the workings of the Force/Aether influence countless sentients over countless centuries, all to a purpose... Too bad we still don't know just WHAT that might be...

So it was Remnant that absconded with the Mak'Tor knight (and father of Ho'Li!); I would NEVER have guessed that... But now that he is no longer dominated by the Remnant's Control Mind, I wonder where this will leave him (certainly a MUCH more dangerous "Stranger In A Strange Land"). 

Looks like the Remnant have been BUSY: 40k (no pun intended  ;)) soldiers in the Grand Army of Prakith, new shipbuilding/empire consolidating, all under the Purgatio Astra.  I have to wonder just what the Grand Army will do if/when they finally do encounter our "Prime" Aethans...might be likened to an "oil and water" non-mixture...

...only much, MUCH more violent  :)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 27, 2021, 04:36:34 AM
Chapter 31 — The Black Obelisk — Part 5
Milaea
(https://i.ibb.co/wMNtQXJ/M-58.jpg) (https://ibb.co/wMNtQXJ)
With a dull thud the Sixth and Fifth Obelisks slid into place.

Surge protectors were switched back on in the plant room by Adaea and power began to flow through them.

Like Obrio trees of the Valley the four current obelisks ‘welcomed’ their new siblings into the ever expanding fold, ‘teaching’ them how to look upon the span of the galaxy.

Two-Thirds of the massive array was now complete, operating at just over 50 per cent capacity, the positive synergy of all nine Obelisks was needed to achieve full potential.

They had recovered four more People since installing the Fourth Obelisk with the Array at 33 percent capacity, Maekal, Evyn, Evaea and Nyaea. 

They had confirmed the deaths of far more.

While readouts showed a smooth activation mirroring their growing confidence and experience with the system, Milaea felt the deeper currents of the People emotions writhe uncertainly.

The losses and gains seemed to eat at each other preventing either despair fuelled rage or success breathed relief winning out - leaving the People teetering between the two.

“No fairy tale endings,” she whispered to herself idly brushing her link Orb to Ari as she found herself doing every few minutes despite herself, just in case she had missed the pulse of a signal.

The restlessness Milaea had felt over the last few months had taken her by surprise.

To fulfil their contractual obligations all the restored members of the People old nouh had been sent for training and placement in the CEDF, including Ari of course.

Milaea had found herself irritable, the task of programming the Obelisks and associated orbs, filters and capacitors a grind.

After working so closely together on Ari’s Trial, the Fourth Obelisk, the resurrection of Karintha and Yorna, then the pursuit of Evyn and Evaea, there was a physical discomfort to Ari’s absence, Milaea constantly expecting to turn and see her, only to be disappointed.

This had been replaced in the last few days by nervous anticipation at her imminent return.

“Such glories, such mysteries…” an awed voice came from behind her.

“Oh, Maekal...” she stumbled embarrassed she had not sensed him, either she was distracted or he was picking up some of Evyn and Evaea’s skills.

“I am to learn the secrets of this Eye to the Infinite stars,”

In other words, Milaea surmised, Valens had sent him here to learn how to operate the Obelisk Array, before returning to his training. 

With so many People with the Chiss Valens and Jarys had taken on the grindingly depressing work of investigating signals that came through - most little more than echoes they could not pinpoint further by the time they reached the sector or system.

Excepting a few firefights with pirates in the Arkanis sector, and fruitless interrogations in the Centrality coalition the only gain was it had given Kiraea some more time to recover, oddly enough spending much time with Sofa despite, or perhaps because of their - as Sofa termed it - passively aggressive ambivalent frenemy status.

For the last few weeks both had been back on Aethas with their wives.

“Is Ari back with you?” Milaea replied to the impatient Maekal with her own enthusiastic question.

“Lady Aresaea is on the third of the three Star Chariots,”

Milaea suppressed a groan at the vague yet eloquent answer

Maekal had made a...mixed...impression upon the others, convincing him he, and the People, were not actual deities was difficult given core beliefs of being Children of Goddesses and by genetics, culture and aetheric ability - vastly superior to all other life forms. 

He also struggled to distinguish between technology and ‘magic’ - understandable as the Obelisk array itself melded advanced Aetheric communication and astrophysics.

“The new obelisks will be online soon, I expect to get a flood of extra signals, link to that console like you were using a Training Orb,” she directed.

Maekals expression flickered with irritation at such a ‘lowly’ task, he still complied. The contrast to the humble and quiet Twins was stark - trained to follow their Sensei’s orders without question, subconsciously needing a new parental figure they were all too compliant to Karintha’s cultural re-integration.

Karintha Milaea mused as the Obelisks power began to build, the first sparks of new signals hitting their tips.

There was no doubting Karintha’s commanding aura, and the shift it created in the still unsettled leadership of the People, an unspoken contest between her, Milaea, Lyaea and perhaps even Ari, while Valens remained primus-inter-pares for the moment.

Milaea gripped the side paddles over one of the Filter Pedestals, nine smooth blackstone orbs crackling with energy as they screened the enormity of thoughts, feelings, and raw Life energies that the Obelisks ate into indiscriminately, the energies filtered through tuned Orbs seeking key words and patterns of aether usage that matched Aethan ‘frequencies’, excess energies either ‘purified’ and stored or expelled back into space just as they had entered.

“Such power...the vision of the Gods….” Maekal grunted at his own station, perhaps not the best moment for his first time with the array

She felt what he meant, the intensity of the half whispers of possible signals intensified dramatically, the array moving from one third to fully half capacity, straining even her reserves of energy to keep focused on for the sheer enormity of even a fraction of the data filtered to her.

<help… please… ..please...help...mother...Goddesses...Myri what do I…. where are you?>

“Nnnnh….” almost doubling over Milaea felt her mind pulled in a dozen directions across four dimensions by the enormity of signals that were suddenly detected lingering in the undercurrents.

<Ada….> she called telepathically with one level of thought as she looked over to Maekal who was all but insensate.

The savant like young woman immediately summoned more help as she scrambled out of the confines beneath the main array. 

<Shall I shut it off?> Adaea asked, feeling Milaea’s strain.

<No...can’t...can’t lose them….> whatever the strain Milaea could not, would not, let any of these signals be lost. Each was a Person, each was a chance to bring more healing and hope.

Flashing out a hand she sent a burst of energy into Maekal who gained a second wind trying to grasp as many threads and pour them with as high fidelity as possible into the recording Orbs for later tracing.

“Maek….take nine...I’ll do the rest…”  She said through clenched teeth as she tried to untangle the dozens of interlaced skeins like threads at the bottom of her Grandmothers sewing box. 

Adaea was racing to put in Recording Orbs, swapping them out as quickly as possible when each one was filled.

The burden on Milaea and Maekals mind lessen with each one, but their fatigue was growing exponentially

“I don’t have any orbs left...we’ll have to double up….” Adaea began making changes on the fly to the orbs already sloshing over with aetheric positioning data to allow them to squeeze in more.

The whole process took an hour, by which time Kassyndra and Lyaea had just arrived on the outlying planet from Aethas to assist.

Maekal, unsurprisingly, dismissed any concerns for his well being

“I am untroubled by this minor exertion,” he said hastily before falling face first onto the floor to Lyaea’s immense amusement, Kassyndra used to picking up over confident Aethan children when they fell down just helped him up.

<<<<>>>>

46 Signals, all received in the space of an hour.

Cross mapping them to conventional space took the better part of a week, almost the whole of the People working in the Observatory on Aeda. 

To both their displeasure it was at the end of that week Ari arrived only to be press ganged into the more urgent task of tracing signals instantly.

The Aetheric map of the galaxy all the sharper from the addition of the two new Obelisks made the process faster per signal, but still was more art than science to perform.

Pressing through the crowded room Ari weaseled her way toward Milaea, insubstantial aetheric illusions of life force that made up populate planets passing across her skin, finding her friend leaning over a console calculating vectors and aetheric wavelengths. 

“Ari!” Milaea looked up her voice sharp and almost desperate as she teleported through the console to embrace her.

The sudden use so much aetheric energy on such an advanced technique for so seemingly trivial a reason as a hug of greeting annoyed Maekal and Evyn as the wave of aetheric energy threw out their readings, and earned only sly knowing glances between Lyaea and Yorna on the other side of the room.

“How are you, how was Csilla,”

If the strength of Milaea’s embrace was excessive, Ari seemed intent on matching it.

“Fine it was...very different,”

Ari’s mind completely open to her friend she sent thoughts unfiltered into words of a concept that Ari felt like she had now lived among three cultures - Aethan, Galtean and Chiss, each with their own unique beauties...and troubling blind spot flaws.

“You got the new Obelisks running,” Ari said as they slowly parted

“Evidently!” scoffed Maekal irritated as he reworked his triangulations.
“Now we are overcome by an abundance of cries through the starry night, prayers that must be….mmmmhmmmm….”

“Now what did We tell you about interrupting women and ranting like an idiot hmm?” Lyaea said, hand over Maekals mouth to shut him up and give an object lesson in his place among a matriarchal society.  He struggled for a moment but Lyaea had too much practice in keeping Taryn inline for his resistance to bother her.

Ari and Milaea just giggled

“He has a point…” Mialea agreed

“We got so many signals…” she walked Ari to the other side of the console, hand unashamedly on her friends hip.

“The extra power rally drew them in...but there is a problem…”

There was no screen on the console composed of nine Orbs ensconced in the pedestal, linked by aetheric energy to one's mind you felt, saw, heard, tasted the information. 

Ari linked in with gentle flickers of purple lighting from her finger tips, Milaea’s own hue redder linked in to guide her.

“Oh...hmmm….there’s no sense of urgency like the other signals...no sense of….time…” Ari deduced

There were many possible reasons why, distance, displacement, distortion...but until they looked into them they would not know.

“Which means we have no time to waste,” Mili agreed

“Each location we track we send to Valens straight away, he’s compiling routes to send each of the Destroyers on paths that reach as many places in the shortest time possible but try and keep within a few days jump in case anyone needs back up…”

As excited as Ari was to be joining the hunt for more people she realised what that would mean in the short term.

“We won’t have any time to…”

To what? she didn’t have any place to be or specific plans...only the excitement held through every hour with the Chiss to return to Aethas, wander the Valleys and caverns, speak to Nyaea and Xani...all of it hand in hand with Milaea….

“...to rest after the induction...we’ll have to leave as soon as the ships are resupplied…”

Ari turned her disappointed to focus, there would be another time for all that, for now the People needed to be out there looking as hard as they could with this bounty of information.

Milaea felt the hopeful conviction and reciprocated it in her feelings, before long they had dragged in another console and were working side by side to help the others, more than doubling their output, swapping out their ‘shift’ after 6 hours with Adaea and Selaena.

By that time they were so mentally exhausted they could do little but eat, shower and sleep in the docked Persephaea’s cabins. 

The cycle was repeated for another three days as the whole of the People prepared, weapons and victuals restocked, dossiers on the growing number of locations they needed to visit compiled, quantum burst signals back and forth from Lyr and Colm Maynard on Fresia reaching out to their own shady contacts for any extra details.

Barely a week after arriving back from Csilla, Ari was once more standing on the bridge of the Aertemisaea about to depart, looking through the view screen to the Persephaea where Milaea likewise watched as their ships passed each other toward jump points at opposite ends of the system.

Their manpower so limited Valens had split them into four groups balancing expertise and ability as best he could, taking special account of the need to keep the elders with the newly reunited Aethans.

Milaea’s and Ari’s astounding abilities were what meant they were placed on separate ships.  Valens had seemed to understand it was a disappointment when delivering their orders, but the mission, the People, always came first.

Confident they would be together soon, and hopeful they would each return with  more survivors and hope for their People the two women shared one last tentative brush across the astral plane before their vessels took them into the starry expanse.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 27, 2021, 04:38:15 AM
Chapter 31 — The Black Obelisk — Part 5

Reeda
(https://i.ibb.co/kGjYTrW/Reeda-Kwn.jpg) (https://ibb.co/kGjYTrW)
She watched again as her fellow Extolled marched to Karintha Class vessels, once more the armed retinue of the Avatars on another of their expeditions.

And once more she knew that of the 146 that went with them, less would return.

Purple twilight of the jungle was decorated by the dull orange and yellow glow of bioluminescent insects - both native to Aethas and Yuuzhan Vong bred, that competed and co-operated in a strange dance trying to find an equilibrium in the ecosystem of Aethas Jungle Islands.

Yet even after nearly two years the native Aethan species and introduced Vong flora and fauna - even that which was grown here not transplanted from their ship - never seemed to meld into one biosphere. Yes they would prey on each other, sometimes even exploit each other - Aethan Krebees finding the leathery villip bulbs skin delicious, wild Vong amphistaff slithered from their native vines into the Vosis swamps to act as scavengers for the larger Aethan reptiles prey…but there was a sense each side simply tolerated the other.

Or perhaps she was projecting her own growing disenchantment upon the jungle.

She looked on the embankment from the ‘shapers’ damutek, a three storey conical shell that housed herself and a dozen other shapers, most of which had formerly been shamed ones.

Of course there were no official castes among the Extolled...but old habits died hard and the castes still gravitated to each other, and the Avatars in different ways.

Nearly all the warriors, half the shapers, three quarters of the priests and a third of the intendants remained fanatically loyal to the Aethans as Avatars of the gods. 

For the Warriors it was obvious, they respected martial strength, and the Aethans biology alone was enough to carry their favour - the priests convinced themselves of the divine nature of the Aethans as Avatars of the gods, believing their own explanations to justify their own freedom from shaming. 

The Shapers were a mixed bag, some genuinely believed, but most were enthralled by the complete and utter freedom to innovate in their arts. 

One heresy had begat another and the ambitious and curious had drunk deep, now inured to the use of machines they used holo-databases to learn just how advanced Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology was.

Amongst the main fleet the Shapers craft was limited by tradition, the Shaper Protocols that believed in Yun-Yuuzhans the High Gods mind was the perfect form of all things and a Shaper merely imitated that - what had come before therefore always seen as the pinnacle to emulate, an end point not a start.

Here the Avatar of She Who Shapes - Yun-Ne’Shel - the Aethan Adaea - actively encouraged the shapers to innovate, to meld Vong Biotech with Chiss technology to make both more efficient.

Any such non-living technology and innovation was heresy among the fleet, and the shapers who indulged in it experienced an illicit thrill of transgression to be using them that kept them enamoured.

The Intendant caste members were less enamoured, always cynical and clear thinking as was needed for their role as administrators, diplomats, spies, if they afforded the Avatars loyalty it was because they saw the practical benefits, not any kind of zealous conviction.

She caught the gaze for a few moments of two of the ‘Avatars’ Milaea, Avatar of Yun-Harla the trickster, and Lyaea, of Yun’Shuno - she of the Thousand eyes - Goddess of the shamed ones.

How strongly Reeda had believed in Lyaea as the Avatar, the liberator, how much Reeda had preached to the others in those first months of the truth of their liberation, of the genuine divine touch upon the Avatars.

It recoiled on Reeda with double the guilt that she had been so very wrong.

Lyaea was a fickle, vain and selfish manipulator who used her powers to flash her eyes blue to impress the credulous, and used the Extolled as a mine of bio-technology.

Milaea, perfect to the nature of Yun-Harla, had empathized with Reeda’s doubts, sympathized with Reeda’s hope to establish their own colony and develop the Extolleds culture independent of Aethan influence in their own time - but ultimately did nothing to facilitate it.

Reeda knew Milaea was the strongest of the Avatar’s, the Warriors had seen her turn enemies to ice and fire in the same breath, yet either through indifference, malice, or resignation had made no moves to free the Extolled from their false belief in the Avatars that Milaea claimed to desire.

There was always some pressing signal to investigate, or project to work on
“It’s not the right time,” Milaea had said a month before
“Once the Obelisks are online, and we’ve found everyone we can, then the People will be in a place to really discuss how our alliance works in the long term,”

The Obelisks Reeda’s dovin basals helped mine.  The missions of ‘recovery’ that left Reeda’s fellow Extolled injured or dead while the Avatars always escaped alive behind their Oblivion armour. 

Trickster Goddess indeed, Reeda had her fill of double speak.

The Transports lifted off taking half the Extolled into the stars to fight and die for the Avatars once more.

She turned to Nerak, one of now dozens she had shared secret meetings with. For as much as the Avatars learned from them, they learned in turn.  Granted access to the Vhal’Dan archives to enable Reeda to more quickly upload the full scope of the Shapers qasha data to ‘conventional supercooled crystal systems’ favoured by the Chiss she had stumbled across a series of lectures from Vhal’Udhav University regarding the ‘Necessity of Atheism’. 

The Series performed by a guest speaker from Bothawui Centre for Philosophical Studies had given names and firm concepts to her doubts, articulating her swirling thoughts in ways she never could have with her language constrained by the imaginative limitations of the Militaristic Theocracy of the Yuuzhan Vong tongue.

She had secretly shared her thoughts with others whom she saw show signs of doubts in the Avatars, a number that grew with each battle the Extolled suffered in

They had begun with discussions on the nature of the Gods...then the lack of Gods...outright Atheism and now...resistance.

“We need to start working while the warriors are gone,”

Nerak - an intendant - largely in charge of the stores and supplies nodded

“I’ve funnelled the resources you requested to a buried yorik shell an hours walk from the damuteks…”

In addition to base proteins and nutrient slurries, the basic components of all shaper arts.

“Our work begins,” she agreed.

 
<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 27, 2021, 05:14:29 PM
A nice "breather" chapter, especially after Vzin & the Twins, training with the Chiss, and the Remnant update.  Nice juxtaposition between Mili and Maekal, although we get a bit of introspection concerning Mili and her concerns...and desires.  Obviously Mili and Ari are growing closer and their burgeoning "friendship" has been noticed by others (if not immediately admitted by either of them).  Hopefully the burden of responsibility won't hinder them much more...

...Unfortunately, even as their time together finally coincides, the search for their People seem insistent upon keeping them apart.  Apropos of this, even operating at half-strength, the Obelisk Array was able to pinpoint upon 46 separate signals (and in a single hour!).  How many more would they have received if the Array had been operating at 100%?  Let us not forget that even with Mili's immense reserve of power in the Force/Aether, she was still exhausted afterwards.  But that is not the only problem...

Now we have some concrete numbers for the Yuuzhan Vong, and far from being of one mind, too many have come the realization that the Aethans are not the Avatars of their pantheon.  Question is: what will they do?

As I've said, this is my favorite story of the Aethan Cycle: incredibly character-driven and some excellent studies with our individual Aethans.  Chapter 32 now please  :D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 17, 2021, 11:06:37 AM
While the Next Chapter is under construction a nod of appreciation to something very special already built by For Tyeth, without which my characters would be 'grounded'!

Aertemisaea Class Destroyer

(https://i.ibb.co/44bk4r2/Destroy1.png)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on May 17, 2021, 05:53:42 PM
While the Next Chapter is under construction a nod of appreciation to something very special already built by For Tyeth, without which my characters would be 'grounded'!

Aertemisaea Class Destroyer

(https://i.ibb.co/44bk4r2/Destroy1.png)
This is EXACTLY what I'd meant with giving FT the most recent shout-out: the collaboration between LSG's awesome literary universe and seeing it brought to life by FT's outstanding renderings is BEYOND phenomenal!

This entire picture--visual as well as script--is just MADE of pure WIN  8)

Great job, gentlemen!

Points!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: For Tyeth on May 17, 2021, 07:01:57 PM
While the Next Chapter is under construction a nod of appreciation to something very special already built by For Tyeth, without which my characters would be 'grounded'!

Aertemisaea Class Destroyer

(https://i.ibb.co/44bk4r2/Destroy1.png)

Hi LSG and Dutch, Oh I am really liking the digital overlay you (LSG) have added and especially the colour you chose, it really ties the text to the picture as if it is part of the ship's onboard system's readout!

Thanks both of you and points when I can add them.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:36:36 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes —Part 1
Screams and Silence
(https://i.ibb.co/bKW4X0F/Silenand-Screams8.png)
The Old Man set food on the young world.

Still without a name the lumpy amalgam of heavier elements was still accumulating mass in an accretionary disc around a fledgling white sun.

The Karintha class transport had been constantly peppered with micro asteroids dodging larger ones as it descended, mostly water they dissolved in the heat of the cool Chiss sub-light engines.

The vessel was empty, quiet and cold.  Micro meteors had left the hull strewn with holes and age had killed any power and warmth it once had.

In Melrons hand was a tiny ultradense marble that stood in stark contrast to the abyss cold whites of the frozen fluids on the surface.

Perhaps these would one day form an ocean or atmosphere. Would this world just live to grow old enough to see the children it birthed in geothermal pools yet to spark with heat die before their time, lost to pitiless frozen void never to return to the soil that was their home to rejoin the cycle.

The Orbs' pulses of terror in his hand denied him darker paths, being Old enough to have seen the Young die could drag him down as surely as this vessel had been.

It led him inside past the charred corpses floating by the drive nacelles, the mummified hollowed alien forms in the exposed corridors where his footsteps made no sound for lack of gas.

Until he reached the center hold where an arm stretched out to him, a sick blue hue to the skin that was freeze burn tight on the muscle beneath.

Six.

Trapped in cages whose power cells were long faded, six People eternally scraped and dragged in voiceless stasis to escape the crashed vessel.

Screams of six people had led them here. Six dead Aethans greeted him with Silence.

<<<<<>>>>

Asyn

He had to take her with him.  The strange eyeless outsider was the only being he had any semblance of connection or care for.  Why he did not know.  The hollow where eyes should be was troubling to even contemplate, the veil the Domina made her wear couldn’t make him forget.

But something dre him to Nissa, and so when the time came - if he could - he would break her out too.

The slivers of metal he had accumulated waited in a hole behind a loose brick in the wall.  The trophies of a hundred fights in the pits of Rorak IV.  His grandmother was a blacksmith, he knew enough to forge a simple dagger with the aether.

It would have to be enough.

<<<<>>>>

He had been right to take her.  They had escaped but he had been wounded, on the drifting ship Nissa had cared for him, her face covered in blood, little of which her own, hovering over him, hands guided by her sightless vision.

He could feel her in the aether, communicate with her that way, almost as deeply as with other People...or how he remembered communing with People, it had been so long he had lost track in the day and night less space city.

Touches at first practical and medical became tender and affectionate.


<<<<>>>>

The farm was on land even the seller claimed was hard to work, but Asyn wasn’t, bothered, it was a place, a start, a home and he knew he could labour far more intensely than the beings of this forgotten world.

And it was all the damaged vessels sales could buy for two runaway slaves.

And with Nissa there...he had a reason to.


<<<<>>>>

She would watch from her window as he stood staring at the stars every night before coming in from the long days work.

Nissa always felt she was kept outside from him, Asyn never spoke of his home, his kind, but he couldn’t conceal his feeling in the Force, she knew how he missed them, how given the chance he would….

But he didn’t know where, and they had barely enough peggats to afford water purifiers for their own consumption.

He would stare at those rotating stars for exactly nine minutes, mutter a few silent words then come back to her.


<<<<>>>>

“It’s not right…” he seethed angrily

“Asyn...we have enough...just…”

The Local Warlords bands demanded ‘Rent’ from all the farmers, but as the Warlords ventures in the Southern badlands had failed the price had increased.

She gently caressed his care and work worn face.  She knew how hard he strived, how he skipped his own food so she had enough...and how despite the incredible physical endurance of his species, it was taking a toll.

“A Guardian protects the People, doesn’t exploit them...Goddesses is a Guardian were here they would show those fiends….”

“I will pray to Ashla the next harvest is more fruitful…”


<<<<>>>>

He felt her breathing and heartbeat steady and slow as she slept beside him.

The stultifying dry heat made unbearable by the anxiety.  Asyn drew his hand down his gaunt face.  He knew he was running out of time.

All the Hubba bulbs on this damn planet couldn’t provide the nutrition his body craved, its distant sun gave off barely enough energy to allow him to switch to photosynthetic energy sources.

Nissa had spoken of Alpheridies, the home of her eyeless Miraluka People...he longed to take her there...he needed hundreds of Peggats and he was earning only dozens of Wupiupi a week.

And the Warlords Band could come any day demanding their ‘rent’...rent for land he had paid for with the vessel he escaped in...sometimes he thought they’d have been better dying in the void...but then…

Then he would’ve missed Nissa’s love…

Goddesses what was he going to do?


<<<<>>>>

The next part of the story told from the ashen ruins of the farmhouse stung Milaea’s eyes with tears.  The Warlords band had come, demanded the rent, Asyn had offered all he could spare - barely a third.

Insistent that he was hiding the full amount they took to ransacking the impoverished farm house.  When they found only a single peggat - worth barely as she understood around 30 or 40 credits - they determined to take Nissa as ‘collateral’ till he could pay.

Asyn would not let that happen.

He fought… he fought damn hard, broke necks and electrocuted a dozen with the aether, bashed even more with his bare fists...but in the end….

“Six years…” Valens voice broke Milaea from the flow walking mingled with Psychometry that showed her the last painful moments.

She nodded that sounded about right for how late they had been responding to Asyn’s plea to the goddesses for help.

The old ash was mingled with dust blown off the abandoned farm slipped through her fingers, fresh dirt kicked up when they had set down, their transport hovering in what had been a small herb garden.

Milaea stood staring over absence that had been a farm house, a place where Asyn and Nissa had tried so hard to create a life….

“Only Asyn died here…” She said sadly using the aether to feel for any fragments they could bury.
“They took Nissa…”

Valens jaw clenched, of all the People he more than any other, empathetic to a Person who had forged a relationship with an outsider, and People always felt a connection to Miraluka, one of their ancestor species.

“Maekal...track down the beings that did this...then wait for us to arrive,” Valens instructed the young easily excitable and overly confident Aethan.

“I will scour each grain of sand for the sinners, interrogate each blade of grass on their passing! They will feel our divine wrath fall upon them like the magma spittle of Apep, The Mighty Serpent that encircles...”

Valens rolled his eyes and held up his hand to stop the young man’s diatribe -  Maekal never lacked enthusiasm for violence, nor an abundance of unnecessary religious references to every imaginable situation.

They found only a handful of bone fragments belonging to Asyn, Milaea’s arms and knees covered in dirt from digging for them.  By the time they had taken genetic samples, cleaned, wrapped and prepared them, Maekal had located the fortress containing the surviving members of the Warlords Band.

Half had died in the intervening years among the interminable internecine warfare, according to the half-starved creature Maekal had abducted from the Fortress’ servants, the Warlord of the time had been killed and a new ruler dominated these lands having inherited the remaining forces.

These outer rim Warlords were little better than underlevel gangers, and just as poorly armed and equipped, eking out an existence as trapped on this backward world as any of their unwilling vassals.

The servant knew nothing of a ‘blind woman’ and was sent on his way, mind altered to forget the interrogation, unnecessary but good practice for Maekal to be more...subtle...in his use of the aether.

Valens acceded to Milaea’s preferred approach in dealing with the Warlord.  A simple aetheric glamour and handful of genuine credit chits bought them an audience with the unhygienic warlord who seemed to consider….mating...with his ‘concubines’ during an audience an appropriate display of his ‘virility’ - and sealed his fate.

The members of the party were brought in as credits and mind tricks greased the wheels and diminished any sense of danger.

Maekal was chomping at the bit to be let off Valens leash for “Insulting My Lady Milaea, Avatar of the Goddesses, Most hallowed Sanctified gaze with such unkempt fornication” - while the double standard of his own behaviour as ‘Anointed’ was lost on him, his zealous adoption of protectiveness  toward Aethan women was appreciated, if in Milaea’s opinion slightly troubling.  

Maekal seemed to have traded one religious extremism for another that had ‘stronger’ Goddesses.

Milaea knew there could only be one outcome.  Asyn was of the People, he had to be avenged, Nissa was chosen as a mate by Asyn, any suffering she endured had to be accounted for equally.

Perhaps Milaea was becoming more...harsh...less merciful...more like ‘People’...but looking at the filthy bunch before, sensing the depredations and screams that lingered in their aura of crimes past, she didn’t much care.

“What happened to the Miraluka - the blinded woman, six years ago” she asked a flare of red from her eyes to compel their candour.

“Her...we ah played around a bit ‘den took ‘er back...the Lord didn't like ‘er so she wa’ given to da’ troops till she was put down...”

His sentence ended when his mouth turned to dust.  

Milaea’s hand was outstretched, red wisps, of energy wafting from her palm, hardly aware she had blown the filthy murderer into dust until after she had done it.

She felt no regret, only the sudden light headedness from the extreme blast of energy in a compressed space of time necessary to deflagrate a being in a nano second.

Seeing her shaking from the exertion Valens slid beside her to prop her up.

“Maekal finish the rest. However you please,”

The leash off, Valens guided Milaea out as Maekal gleefully enacted the Divine justice he had promised.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:39:08 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 2
Illaea

Sparks from severed droid heads died down leaving irritating burns on the lush Camelidae fur carpets.

The mediocre store bought security system easily deactivated by the most basic of Chiss remote slicers was shut down.  The windows and doors of the modest rural manor, overlooking otherwise charming fields, locked from the inside to ensure there were no visitors.

An above middle age woman floated above the tasteful faun Alderaanian chaise lounge, her feet far above her head and oblivion daggers tip hovering barely a millimetre from her eye with the control only genehanced muscles could manage.

The third stop of their tour they were on the fringes of the inner core and colonies, a small forgotten agri-colony settled by Alderaanians millennia ago, it was this signal in particular that had caused Sofa to be placed on this route on the Aethenaea with Jenaea and Maeson.

It was a barely audible, sobbing, repetition of an old Aethan lullaby, the ‘voice’ clearly that of a child, the hope was Sofa was better placed to assist with her training in trauma counselling and working with children in the Temple.

But...as had been the case the last two stops, they were too late by several years.

It was Jenaea not Sofa holding the dagger.

Maeson had mumbled something about securing the perimeter before he got too angry.
By a sick callous grown of their own trauma’s only Sofa and Jenaea remained focused enough not to end the bitches life - largely by virtue of the calming and focus techniques Soryu had taught Sofa, and Sofa had passed onto Jenaea during her training  

The only positive was the pride and gratitude the women felt to each other for the lesson and the learning.

“I’m not even going to torture your sorry arse,” Jenaea sneered
“Every nanosecond alive is one more than you deserve,”

The dagger got even closer to the eye if that were possible.

“In all the years I was smacked around, used, abused, I never got the chance to ask why...so this is how you will spend your last filthy moments polluting the galaxy - tell me why you do these things to People?”

Sofa winced at the tragedy of the question.

The Noblewoman who didn’t deserve the title or name, in fact make it Wretched-pile-of-dren, would answer according to her understanding of the word people as encompassing all sentients more or less.

Jenaea of course had meant People only in reference to Aethans - not the other hundreds, if not thousands of victims.

A cruel barbed metal wire of compulsion threaded into the Wretched-pile-of-dren’s brain to force it to speak.

“Why...why not...the poor serve the rich, the weak the strong, I had money to buy what I liked and do whatever I wanted with what I purchased….”

“You think People are poor, weak!” Jenaea seethed

“The galaxy is unfair, people with power use it - I used my power to do what I wanted, overcome the resistance of others, just as you are now - we’re the same, the only difference is the peculiar preference,”

The Wretched-pile-of-dren voice held a touch of upper class clipped tones, enough to sicken with its haughty entitlement.

Might makes right Sofa sighed inwardly, it was hard to argue against considering the whole Aethan way was founded on the same concept - they did what they liked, and mind controlled anyone who got in their way if they were lucky, took their head if not...their entire presence here enacting vigilante justice - however justified - was an example of it.

But such double standards didn’t trouble Aethans one bit, it just left them confused.

“We are People,” Jenaea said with a sinister low tone

“We do as we please, you outsiders have no rights over us…by why do that in particular to the most defenceless of People, why?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why things are taboo, wanted to breach them just to see what the fuss is about, to play, to taste the forbidden flesh of a hundred species?  To show you’re better than them, that you Can

A power trip, Sofa realised, a sick power trip to say ‘I can buy you, torment you, and consume you, and I will because I can,’

“I’ve heard enough…” Jenaea sniffed

“Anything else?” she asked Sofa.

Sofa shook her head knowing nothing had been learnt in the exchange, and nothing gained for the People but more grief and proof they were always the victim and always right.

Blood soaked the chaise lounge.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:40:51 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 3

Davyn
(https://i.ibb.co/QJpSBSv/Silenand-Screams7.png)
“Tell those who stand on the edge of Xibalba that I send more on their way to the First Level along the Bridge of Skulls soon!”
 
With a squeeze Maekal crushed the Nothoiin’s throat, tossing the golden skinned native of the Anoat Sector into the pile of six more.
 
They were deep into the bowels of Burnin Konn, one of the Four prime mining worlds of the Anoat System, below the levels where the Nothoiin Nobles that ruled the mine pretended they employed their laborer’s for inspections. 

Here in the pinkish orange labyrinth of tunnels bored over centuries of exploitation those that mined for  Chromium, Doonium and above all the valuable Ur-Diamonds, was the refuse of Nothoiin society – nobles who had been ‘disappeared’ in inheritance disputes, illegitimate children whose existence might imperil succession, and in the majority, simply the dregs of society press ganged into ‘work’.
 
With unnecessary spite Maekal stomped the skull in, revelling in his strength and prowess. 

Day by day his powers grew under Seraphim Lord Valens guidance. 

Maekal had ascended from the playpen of the world he had been raised on to the grander stage of the wider Heavens, where his race of Angelic Aethans strived against the races of demons that infected the purity of existence. 
 
He smiled to himself as he headed back to the main group, he had thought his crusade on a single planet of such monumental importance, now he realized how he had underestimated himself, his destiny was not to purify a single world, no, the whole Galaxy needed to be brought into perfect submission to the True Powers, the Goddesses of Aethas!
 
That was a challenge worthy of him once by Mighty Valens guidance he reached his full potential.
 
“Where were you?” Lydan’s slightly exasperated tone came over the comm as the Maekal re-joined the group.

“Crushing the life from the heretics that pollute our Galaxy,”

Lydan slumped slightly

“I told you not to engage, to stay quiet as we worked deeper, we can’t risk being detected and the Nothoiin’s collapsing the mine,”

Lydan’s voice should’ve been stern, instead the gentle shepherd sounded pleading, causing Maekal only to deride him more.

“Inefficient, with a display of our strength the others will all the more readily give up their secrets before we slay them,”

They had been traversing the tunnels for days following only the thinnest of thread in the aether deeper and deeper, stealing stray thoughts and conversation when they could, interrogating quietly when they could not.

Evyn and Evaea, the other half of Lydan’s team, they moved like a black mist soundlessly through entire crowds of workers.

“Sneaking about is so dishonourable, inefficient and boring, a panicked man talks,” Maekal emphasised, though shorter than Lydan he leaned to overawe him.

“And usually tells lies,” Evaea intercepted, “Did you gain anything from your slaughter of worth?”

Redirecting his dominant stance toward the young woman Maekal beamed proudly
“They revealed to me the ‘aliens’ are kept in the depths of Level 62 down Turbo Elevator Cerek. I will go immediately ahead to clear the path of this rabble so they don’t offend your august sight any further,”

Maekals attempt to impress Evaea flew straight past leaving her telepathically shrugging to her twin at Maekals queer behaviour.
Drawing his sword he set off.

“Hang, hang on!” Lydan interrupted

Valens had put him in charge of this rescue, he needed to assert himself. 

Goddesses, why was it so easy for him to shout down a Vorynx, or glare a Voursus away from his herd, but hard in dealing with other People…

Maybe that is why Valens put me in charge…to learn

“We should, we s-s-should confirm that with the local d-databases, it's a long way down if you’re information is wrong,” Lydan felt the irritation at his stammer returning as the cold sweat of anxiety took hold despite the balmy geo-thermal heat.

“Wrong! No mere mortal can lie to me!” Maekal countered with a wink to Evaea who again merely frowned confused.

“No, Evyn and I will find a local terminal, you and Evaea find a smaller shaft down to level 50...quietly no killing no detection,” Lydan tried to assert himself under the withering barrage.

“A waste of time, but if you wish to you may,” Maekal dismissed as if permission was his to give.

<<<<>>>>

They coasted through the local hub quietly, the clank of metals and the dimness of un-replaced burnt out fluro-lumens making it incredibly easy to avoid detection, swipe the key card off a dozing rotund overseer and access the local main frame.

The mines were not centrally run, each section was owned by a different noble family, commerce guild or freeman investor, sharing little more than the main turbo lifts resulting in a chaotic patchwork of equipment, systems and maps of the mine.

<Some notes of aliens in the lower levels> Lydan note feeling calmer now he was focused on analysing the reams of data, though the mechanical screens red tinge was uncomfortably similar to the vague memory he had of ‘Surges’ sensors when he was a cybernetically grafted slave.

<I suppose Maekal was right,>

<I wouldn’t tell him that,> Evyn’s voice, even telepathically always a whisper.

<You need to be firmer, as Sensei would say, the Taste of the Rattan soon fills the mouth of the Boastful>

<What’s a Rattan?>

<A cane for discipline,>

<I don’t think hurting him is the solution, you have to be gentle with young gormin for them to trust you, they always bite sometimes…>

Evyn remained quiet as they slid out of the small office that stank of mouldy still water, concerned Lydan was mistaking a vorynx for a gormin.

<<<<>>>>

Black hands sprung front he shadows and lifted the Nothoiin by the neck, his wiry body thrashing

“Where are the humans and aliens, how many are there, when did you see them last!” a gender less rasping voice came from behind.

“I...I...Don’t...I…” The Nothoiin quickly soiled the ragged one piece work suit, fortunately it was so dirty it could only stink less for the additional fluids.

<Disgusting> Maekal crushed the creature lifeless and let it drop.

<That was unnecessary> Evaea chided

<Indeed, but such are the uncouth manners of the maggots beneath us>

<I was referring to killing him and making so much noise not the fear induced defecation> Evaea corrected, she had seen plenty of that in her time hunting for Sensei.

<Are we not tasked with destroying all the enemies of the Goddesses?> he countered

<Concealing our existence is more important,> was her riposte as they slid ever further down the passage ways to the endless moans of drills and rhythm of power picks on harsh heated stone.

<None of the creatures here will live for much longer,> he smiled
<As soon as we have recovered our fallen Angel brethren I will turn this world into an offering to the Aertemisaea-Timoría>

Evaea ignored the rambling foolishness he spouted, he continued blathering on as they moved forward, Maekal gleefully pouncing on any creature they found along the way in a predictable pattern of forceful mind rend then execution that served no purpose other than to create an easily trackable body trail.

He didn’t understand why she was not impressed with his display of martial prowess…perhaps because the opponents were so pathetic.

<These are truly unworthy bovines made for the slaughter,> he explained
<Nothing compared to the Great Chiefs and Tribal Braves I have defeated, even as a boy I defeated a Sa’Urai warrior with my bare hand, and my power has grown four fold since,>

Coming across a band loading up a dozen cart on a durasteel track he rushed forward
<I will remove these impediments from you!>

Evaea did not need him to do so, she was more than capable of using her stealth abilities to simply avoid them entirely, a cleaner more efficient way that his dispatching, lifting fully loaded carts off the tracks to bludgeon creatures into the wall in a vain attempt to show his physical strength, all but liquefying others in telekinetic grips.

She simply waited arms crossed increasingly annoyed.

<Not even the hint of a sweat> he smiled <Truly I long for a more serious challenge to display the full range of my power and glorify the Goddesses, I will dedicate the heads of my enemies to your incomparable beauty.>

Her childhood utterly focused on training, his attempts at flirting were without purchase as they continued on.

The elevator shaft was in reasonable condition, but the cab itself was higher up in the mine.

<We keep going down,> Lydan said as he re-joined them.
<Just as I already said,> Maekal sniffed.
 
<<<<>>>>


The deeper they went the hotter it got as they neared the heated mantle.

They parkoured down the shaft to level 60, five levels above the end of the shaft.

High above Evyn’s impeccable senses attuned to the slightest disruption felt the stirring fo alert and panic as Maekals handiwork was found and the – fortunately for them rather ramshackle – amalgam of different House Guards, Professional security and Overseers began to investigate.

<They know something is wrong> he reported to Lydan
<It will take them some time to organise>

Lydan nodded moving quickly through the almost pitch black tunnels, boots scrunching through wet gravel, not water but flammable liquid petroleum’s that squelched uncomfortably loud for Evyn and Evaea’s preference for utter silence.

With heat, mass and aetheric senses they looked through the largely empty tunnels, trace whispers of sudden gurgling death in the aether…

<They breached a deposit of oil…> Lydan surmised <It drowned the workers here…>

His hands trailed along snaking tubes on the ground.
<They just pumped it all out anyway…>

Maekal was being unusually quiet.  That worried Lydan.

They traced back the flood point to discern the likely flow of the thick substances, extrapolating as best they could where bodies would’ve accumulated in the flow, in crevices, divots and snares in the rocky walls.

Their armoured hands plunging into the syrup like holes they dug out bones still covered in disturbingly preserved flesh, bruised from impacts as they were swept away by the underground tide.

So many beings left dead and forgotten…most Nothoiins, but around a third were not, the tracking orb was thrumming gently but not drawn to any one direction.

Evyn was the first to find something – an arm broken and skinned, but the musculature was unmistakably Aethan. Half a torso, legs and hips came next before finally they came across the eerie eyeless flesh drawn skull.   

Too late once more. 

<He must’ve been close to the burst of oils,> Evyn traced out the distribution pattern of the body parts
<The pressurized blast struck him, sent him into those jagged rocks with enough force to rip him open>

Lydan frowned
<Could he have known…deliberately opened the breach? To end his suffering…>

He knew there was no answer.

Further in the cavern Maekal felt out the lines in the deep geo-strata, nodding satisfied he had found an adequate Shatter point, he detached a large cylinder from under his armours rear power pack, roughly twice the size of their water bottle it weighed nearly 80 kilograms due to the density.

“W…what is that?”  Lydan called across sensing the uptick in Maekals heart squeeze

“The tool of our vengeance for this egregious crime,” Maekal grinned

“N…no what is it specifically, tell me now,”

Maekal rolled his eyes as Lydan approached his worry growing.
“A mere trifle I concocted learning demolitions from Maeson - Naquadha encasing a core of unrefined coaxium,”

Evaea’s eyes widened, Evyn stepped between her and Maekal protectively – not that it would do much good.

Unrefined coaxium was volatile and explosive at even standard room temperatures, the super dense mineral Naquadha native to a handful of the planets in the Aethas system, and mined by the Chiss to drastically enhance their nuclear warheads explosive radius and strength, could amplify such energies several hundred fold depending on its purity.

“You’re…You’re insane,” Lydan was the first to speak, his mind computing the explosive potential of the bomb, roughly equivalent to a Chiss tactical warhead, sufficient to destroy the vast majority of the mines on this side of the planet, the shockwaves and damage to the mantle would create earthquakes devastating the rest. 
“You’ll kill us all,”

Maekal snapped round faster than Lydan imagined he could - slamming his fist into Lydan’s helmet, following up with a knee to his stomach causing the shepherd to double over.

“Cur, I am a Living GOD, Angelus Splendidus, Living Wrath of the Goddesses that shall shatter the Infestation that blights our Realms one by one just as I conquered the Tribes and City-States of an Entire world!”

Maekal looked down on the pathetic form of the mere farm boy.

“While you herded Gormin I commanded armies of thousands!” he knelt slightly and stuck his finger right under Lydan’s chin.

“Valens only put you in charge as a test for ME to show my undeniably superior abilities in taking control of a failing situation,”

The mix of egotism and rank disrespect was thick in the already clammy air.

None of the other men would’ve tolerated such - Melron, Maeson and Jarys – even Taryn - would’ve put Maekal out like a light. 

Evyn, in consideration of his being Evaea’s twin, Maekal left alone - the calm gentle Lydan was the only male Maekal could - without risk - show dominance over to ‘raise’ his place in the pecking order to impress Evaea..

If he thought such posturing was alluring he was grossly mistaken, but the ever discrete young woman showed no response.

“See how timid you are, completely unfit,” Maekal dismissed
“Take the remains I will ready the Pyre of Annihilation,”

He could tackle him, strong as Maekal had grown under Valens tutelage, Lydan wrestled with Vorynx almost daily.  But that wouldn’t deliver enough of a blow to his overinflated ego.

“Evaea,” Lydan said
“What do you think of Maekal, and his plan?”

She shared a glance with the young Shepherd and understanding of what Lydan really needed her to say passing between them, filling Evaea with a slight disgust as she realised what Lydan saw and she had not.

“It is incomprehensibly foolish, explicable only because Maekal is a barely sentient violent maniac with no qualities I find in any way pleasing,”

She turned fully on the young would be deity

“Your complete lack of tact and lunatic like ramblings lyricizing your ‘achievements’ which consist of nothing more than beating impoverished starving tribesmen generate only disgust. Sensei would have found you too vile to even consume and thrown to the depths of Dypseth…the thought that you desire to mate with me is beyond repellent, if you were the last male alive I would rather see the People extinct than pollute future generations with your genetic legacy.”

Maekal trembled under the comprehensive rejection, incredulous any female would speak against him, the child of Gods. 

Lydan knew he had struck home. 

Nothing was resolved when young gromin bulls butted heads over and over.  But if a gormin heifer rejected the winner from a bout, well that showed the bull it had to have more than just strong hind legs and horns.

Maekal unable to comprehend any rejection of his perfect self was stunned.  Then angry.
“Y…y…you…ungrateful little bi…”

Evyn’s round house kick smashed Maekal into the far wall as Lydan swiftly jump up and teleported the bomb into his own hands.

Before he could even get up Evyn was over Maekal stomping don on his chest.

“Speak to my sister in that manner again…”

The taciturn young man’s voice finished with a dread weighted unfinished sentence.   

Lydan carefully plotted out the shatter point lines of the naquadha applying careful aetheric energy to break it from the Coaxium vial, grateful as ever for his wife’s persistence in teaching him everything about everything he recognised the precarious state of the hyper matter.

“We need to leave, now,”

Evaea and Evyn were already half way back down the corridor
<How long?>
<Maybe fifteen standard minutes> he replied feeling the heat come off the coaxium.
Even with the naquadha encasement removed, its mere presence would amplify the explosion albeit nowhere near as much, if the Nothoiin’s were lucky only the bottom twenty or so levels would be destroyed.

Gingerly placing it in the ooze on the floor Lydan turned to Maekal who was crumped up in the corner, astonishment radiating from him.

“Come on,”  He grabbed Maekals limp arm without a hint of a grudge or annoyance, strength built from carrying chubby gormin calves more than enough to carry the young aethan.

No matter the tussles between the young bulls, Lydan always knew the herd must care for each other.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:42:21 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 4
Myraea - by TheDutchman
(https://i.ibb.co/ZWNhRK4/Silenand-Screams1.png)
As Ari felt the Artemesiaea] enter hyperspace, her other five consciousnesses were fully engrossed on the holoprogram that she studied: a dossier that Lyr had put together for her, a collection of everything known (and even some covert intel concerning) Neuro-Saav Biotech.

"Nav-comp's set.  We'll make planetfall at Tiss'shari just under a week." The young man announced, dropping into the seat next to her, his leg straddling one of the chair's arms.  "Which means no miffed Old Man taking the piss outta everything I do.  Game of Sabacc to while the time?"

Taryn's tone always held a hint of swagger, at least to Ari's ears.  It reminded her of one of the koawan Shadows who served under her Mother Saani.  Inadvertently, she smiled.  "Can't.  You heard same as me: Myri needs us...and I need to know just what to expect."

After her whirlwind of activity on return from Csilla Ari had begun to feel a little...lonely. 

No, that wasn't quite it; true, she was relatively alone, but what she felt was more of a…longing.  Now that...she had left, Ari could finally admit what she had been feeling for some time now.

She missed Mili.  A lot.  It was something that she'd wanted to ask Sofa, Kiraea, Karintha - Adaea even, any of the married women.  Better still: Saani.  When she was with Saani and Kazic, she never really got really close to anyone her age...and D'arial and Syrena had been like sisters to her...and that's not what she felt for Mili.  It was something...stronger, deeper even.  ...Because you really, really like her… A small voice in the back of her mind whispered.

The strength of the yearning  hit her surprisingly hard such that she almost hadn't the Obelisk signal had tuned into something more substantive.  It wasn't until Taryn had entered--and verbally called her attention to it--that she'd even responded.

<...please...help...mother...Goddesses...Myri...please...help...mother...Goddesses...Myri...>
Had repeated, at least long enough to get a fix on the origin: Outer Rim, Xappyh sector, Tiss'shari System, Tiss'shari Prime. 

As they had drawn closer they received a shock: they could hear and see Myri in the Aether!

<...please...help...mother...Goddesses...Myri...please...help...mother...Goddesses...Myri...> Ari stared wide-eyed at Taryn, his own face incredulous.  How...how could they hear and see this Myri; not even Mili was powerful enough to do that...

Undaunted, Ari projected her consciousnesses outward in the Aertemisaea’s Nexus chamber, not as strong as the Obelisks but still powerful enough as an amplifier. 

<...we hear/see you Myri...!  Hold on; we're coming...!>

<...thank...Goddesses...will...hold...on...>   And then: nothing.

And as Ari learned more about Tiss'shari Prime, the more she felt a sense of urgency: it was one of the corporate hubs for the Neuro-Saav Corporation, specifically the Biotech division.  Ari's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched.

"Someone take the jam out of your donut?" Taryn's tone was light but Ari could feel the menace underneath; he could feel that her mood had changed, and not for the better.

"Taryn, can we push the hyperdrive motivator?  110%?"

Without even bothering to question, he hurried towards the controls.  "Might shake us arse over tit but I'll deal with it."

Ari gave a quick smile, the gratitude in her eyes unfeigned.  "Thanks, Taryn."

<<<<>>>>

Neuro-Saav Biotech was known for its cutting-edge development of medical bio-technology, so much so that their designs were illegal in several systems.  As with all things, just because something was labelled "unlawful" did mean that it diminished demand.  As a result, a burgeoning black market emerged, one that the Neuro-Saav parent company took full advantage of.

While publicly disavowing the practice, in private the Biotech arm did everything that it could to fulfil as many of its customers that it could.

Or more specifically, those that could pay.

Any calls for "Humanoid Rights" were clamped down on hard, the Company resorting to bribery, intimidation, and even wholesale murder...all the while Neuro-Saav's quarterly records reported record profits.  But for those with money and influence--in this case, Lyr--there was intel to be had...one merely had to dig determinedly enough.

That...and have a hard stomach.

With enough casualties to rival the worst of the New Sith Wars, Neuro-Saav's "policies" had accrued a body count of prodigious numbers.  Chewing her lip, Ari was suddenly reminded of something that Kazic had once told her, an old Shifalen saying (courtesy of his master Stryka Annix): "A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic."

Ari had learned the lesson that Kazic had taught her, and learnt well: as long as no one made a fuss, millions of deaths would do nothing more than become a footnote in galactic history.  Well, she and Taryn would do more than "make a fuss."


<<<<>>>>

<...please...Aresaea...Taryn...help...!>

Ari's eyes shot open, the last vestiges of her dream evaporating away amidst the Aethan adrenaline response where she went from deep REM sleep to complete alertness in an instant. 

Swiftly inhaling, she pounced from her bed, exiting the room and heading exactly where she knew not where.  Soon she found herself in the Garden Deck, the soft grass comforting under her bare feet, the warm ersatz sunlight softly alighting her face.  Yet despite such solace, she could only think dark thoughts of what she'd learned about Neuro-Saav Biotech and the incessant worry about her People.

In this case, Myri.

While Myri had not exactly told her what had happened to her, Ari could feel the pain that she was in, her sense of urgency.  And for every night the past six days, Ari had always dreamed of Myri, a visceral fear that even now threatened to choke Ari with unnamed terror.  And every day afterwards, Ari would worry that much more about Myri.  Unconsciously, she found herself rubbing her wrists, throat, and stomach, a phantom pain accompanying her waking mind.

"You too?" Came the easy voice behind her.  Turning to face him, Ari slowly walked towards Taryn, grateful for his presence here. 

Even though he often came off as flippant, it was the injected levity that helped Ari from succumbing to the obscure horror she constantly felt.  Smiling, Ari was appreciative to say the least.  She was reminded of Kazic with his wordless strength, a harbor that she could always count on.  Plus, Taryn's shared experience with Ari concerning Myri provided a kind of...mutual empathy when it came to expressing themselves.

"Yeah... Taryn, I'm worried about Myri." She saw that despite the lateness of the hour, Taryn was still fully dressed, the black undersheath that they wore under their Mark I armor eating the light even here.

"Me too, Poppet..." He said quietly, the tone of respect still evident in his voice.  His face suddenly hardened.  "..gotta gear up, after everything I read from that farbot Lyr's dossier...well, there's only one way to deal with frelliks like these."

Ari suddenly felt introspective, glancing at the man in front of her.  She hadn't realized it at the time, but her decision to ask Taryn to accompany her was probably one of the best choices, even had everyone been available.

Taryn had stared into the worst faces in the galaxy--his response to laugh and brag in its visage--was perhaps the only form of resilience that could keep him sane through those years, to say to the brutish reality "you're bad, but I'm badass."

Ari knew that the galaxy was full of those ready and willing to exploit, subjugate, and outright kill others for their own ends.  And she knew, of all the People, Taryn would not flinch away from the horror. 

Some might consider it sadistic indifference, but Ari understood it was calloused survival.

She held no illusions: Taryn was absolutely right.

Her mind suddenly made up, she nodded.  "Agreed.  I'll suit up; we should be only a few hours from planetfall."


 
<<<<>>>>

Using a combination of Buried Presence, Mind Trick, and Illusion, the two black armored beings looked nothing like themselves.  Instead, they had the appearance of wealthy, overindulgent, upper echelon elites, used to doing as they pleased and getting everything that their desires could imagine.

The first being that they visited was a midlevel gatekeeper bureaucrat, a massive human with more chins than could be counted.  His answers served to confirm precisely what Ari and Taryn had been worried about: Tiss'shari Prime was a major port for illegal Humanoid Trafficking.  And while he himself didn't know any precise details, he helpfully "supplied" that his immediate superior did.

It was from this superior--a native Tiss'shar--that they learned that Neuro-Saav Biotech dealt in much, much more than Trafficking.

The Company was responsible for ALL of the Anti-bioengineering Laws in the Republic: they had been involved in the first Genetic Augment Programs, these ultimately leading to the more seedy Trans-humanoid Trials and, finally, the grissly Bio-graft Replacement Procedures where wealthy (and often but not always ailing) clients could..."upgrade" themselves.  Faster.  Stronger.  Younger.  More attractive.

All for a nominal fee, of course.

With the subtleness of a blunt hammer, Ari Delved the anthropomorphic therapod, Compelling him to show her the secret list up on the holofeed in his opulent offices.  With his tongue hanging limply from his reptilian face, blood began to run from his eyes courtesy of the multiple aneurysms as Ari's anger translated through the Aether.

Countless names from countless species from countless planets scrolled through the air as both Aethans scrutinized the projected list.  Finally, one name among legion highlighted, along with a location and status.  Either by the will of the Force or by luck, Myri was in the very building that they were already in, though in a room further down the kilometers-tall structure.

Disgust radiating from Ari in waves, Taryn knew that the time for subterfuge had come to an end.  Dealing first with the League High Officer, Ari and Taryn took the turbolift down, the elevator doors cutting off the ocean of blood that inundated the room, rivulets pooling below the grisly remains of what could no longer be identified as a body.

 
<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:43:29 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 5
Myraea - by TheDutchman
“You getting’ a sense of déjà vu?” Taryn asked as the turbo lift descended with a quiet hum of repulsors. “Not the metal’n’ferrocrete…but the feel of the place”

Ari had been too focused on the task at hand to notice but now Taryn mentioned it, there was a strange undercurrent of relentless--one might say reckless--intent to delve and refine the secrets of Life in this building.

“It’s like the Technocracy ruins at home…the remnant emotions of the Scientists drive to create…well us…from lesser beings…”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Taryn agreed rolling his neck to loosen it up.  “But here, it’s all for the mighty credit hey.”
 
The contrast of course was the technocracy's genetic engineering worked on enhancing subsequent generations to create a society of Gods rather than ‘revitalizing’ current beings for profit… Still, Goddesses knew the Technocracy must've paid just as high a price in failed flesh in those first millennia to create her ancestors.

Feeling ever more comfortable with Taryn, and wishing to fill the silence with something upbeat before whatever came next--which both sensed would be harrowing--Ari diverted to another topic ever niggling at the back of her mind.

“Taryn how did you…or when did you realize your feelings for Lyaea were more than friendship?”

“Ever since I saw those lusty eyes in the Arts pamphlet - she’s the hottest piece or arse in the damn galaxy, heck she’s got extra-galactic fan-boys in the Extolled…and the one damn piece of booty I couldn’t get my hands on…you don’t friendzone that, you score a home run or you strike out and head back to the stands…why do you ask?”

Ari was thankful her helmet prevented him seeing a slight blush.

“Just curious how you integrated back into the People…developed connections”

“Upside down telekinetically pinned to a tree mostly,” he chuckled sardonically
 
He seemed on the verge of asking a follow up Ari did not want to answer…fortunately the turbo lift came to halt just at that moment.

Before the doors had completely opened, twin streaks of midnight exploded from the lift, leaving those within the room with a most perplexing problem of what could've moved so fast...right up to the moment that their world went red, the amount of blood from the League High Officer's station a drop in comparison to the ocean that soon covered almost every surface of the laboratory.

 
<<<<>>>>

Finished with their grisly job, both Ari and Taryn got to work questioning the lone survivor of the room: a Siniteen in an ill-fitting labcoat.

"Here, tosser.  You will tell us everything." Even with the strength of Aethan Compulsion, both of them knew that the Siniteen could not be induced with the Aether, and a Delve would cause massive brain damage, possibly erasing the information that they desperately needed.  "Where is Subject 804X-3N7Q being kept?  In which cell?"

The Siniteen's yellow eyes were as wide as they could possibly go, his chin lifted high as Ari held her deadly tremorsword against his throat, a gram or two worth of pressure the only thing keeping his carotid from being opened.

Without consulting any datanodes, the Siniteen's face twisted, a questioning look upon his face.  "Wha...what do you mean?  That subject isn't in any cell; she's already here, primed for Procurement."

Their faces hidden beneath their helmets, Ari and Taryn exchanged glances, their telepathic conversation unheard by the Siniteen.  <What do you think he mea--Taryn, what is it?> Ari started, suddenly realizing the change in Taryn's demeanor.  While she had no idea what "Procurement" meant, he evidently most certainly did.

"You frelling bastard."  A flash-step too fast for the eye to see, the Siniteen found himself lifted bodily by the neck, the black armored fingers lifting him effortlessly.  Taryn knew that Ari was tough, no gormless waif and whatnot.  But this... "Tell her."  He leveled his Hades rifle and stuck the barrel right between the Siniteen's eyes.  "Tell her now, you kriffing git!"

At first, the Siniteen's words came sporadically, fear dripping from his mouth but as he continued to speak, his voice became stronger, more confident...a professional lecturing about his favored trade.  "That particular Subject is a popular item, even moreso once we found out that the usual cloning procedures wouldn't work, the genetic helices too convoluted, the engrams too complicated to mass-produce...every time we tried, the results would always destabilize, culminating in inert biomass, rendering the entire product unusable.  However, after showing our more wealthy clients the virtues of the Subject, they could not wait to apply for Procurement."  A small smile began to spread across his face, the Siniteen lost in past successes.  "Now, the League has secured many more elite patrons as a result!"

As Ari listened, the disgust that she'd first felt from reading the dossier that Lyr had supplied her paled in comparison to what she now felt.  Suddenly, Taryn smashed the but of his Hades rifle against the Siniteen's face, rupturing his left eye.  "Tell her what 'Procurement' is, you prat.  NOW."

Blood pouring from his broken face, the Siniteen's voice sounded wet.  "...The client is taken to one of our med-suites, readied pre-surgery by an injection of bacta-laced anti-rejection meds...synthesized from the Subject's epithelial cells.  Then, once the client is ready, the replacement appendage or organ is grafted, allowing for full rejuvenation.  And because supplies are limited, the price has increased exponentially..." As if realizing what he was saying, the Siniteen made the first wise decision since the two Aethans had burst into the room: he fell silent.

Fury, absolute and unbridled, consumed Ari, thoughts of Myri's ardent pleas for help, for her mother screaming through her head.
 Involuntarily, she thought of Saani, how her own Mother had protected her...which only served to reinforce her anger manyfold.
 She stepped towards the Siniteen, her helmet bare centimeters from his bleeding face.  "Show.  Me.  Now."

As Taryn threw the Siniteen to the deck, he slung his rifle; however, the enormous tremorsword was still pointed at the humanoid, the black blade deadly and threatening.  Quickly, the Siniteen rose on shaking legs, using the databench for support.  With his fingers dancing over the controls, a final biometric lock rose from the datanode: a retinal scan.  After two unconscious attempts to use his ruined eye, the Siniteen finally switched to his one remaining good eye.  With the locks disengaged, the entire far wall opened up, revealing its secrets.

There in all manner of transparisteel jars both large and small, floated excised and vivisected organs, body parts, and tissues, the entire collection macabre, repugnant, and dreadful.  Aqua blue eyes stared into nothing, the ocular nerves winding around a nutrient sac, a delicate hand twitched sporadically if regularly as a bioelectric current continually ran through the limb, meanwhile an eight-chamber heart continued to beat absent a circulatory system, various tubes running to-and-from the excised valves instead.  And in a larger vat, what Ari recognized as a partial reproductive system--uterus, a singel fallopian tube, and two of the four ovaries--floated suspended in a protein mixture designed to keep them "viable" for Procurement.

But what caught Ari's eyes the most was small jar holding a brain, one in which was missing its left frontal lobe...and that even now was being mapped by nanomachines along synapsis and glands. …Myri... She knew.

...help me...mother...please... The girl's plaintive cries in the Aether ripped through Ari.  Suddenly, she was back at Jorol's and Tsarvung's apartments on Galtea, surrounded by a dozen Vhal'Dan Sentinels, all of whom where overseen by Anson.  Only in this memory of Anson, his eyes were more shadowed, his smile more wicked, his face more evil.  ...Mother...Saani...NOOO!... Myri's panicked cries had somehow become Ari's, indistinguishable within her mind, Wrath giving way first to frightful apprehension...but then transforming to something…more.

Something powerful.

Now as before on Galtea, violet electricity began to arc across her body, her once-aqua eyes now completely white and glowing preternaturally, Aphrodaea's Vengeance hijacking her adrenal glands in order to supercharge her body's response to stressors, strengthening her muscles, bones, ligaments, her connection to the Aether primal, indomitable…pure.

Taryn shielded his eyes, realizing that doing so was ineffective; Ari's aura was a blazing pulsar within the Aether, a raging violet-white storm that could be felt by every single Forceuser on the planet.

And she drew more deeply upon the Aether still.

Had Taryn not been looking at the Siniteen, he doubted that he would've believed it; as it was, he was staring right at the big brained bastard as he averted his gaze from Ari.  What Taryn saw was as awesome as it was terrible.

The Siniteen seemed to glow, a subtle emanation that spread like a flashfire across his entire body while a savage, visceral scream erupted from his mouth...only to stop a split-second later, the Siniteen gone completely and in his place nothing but charred dust and vapor, the distinctive smell of ozone suddenly in the air.  For any other sentient, the process would've been near-instantaneous.  For an Aethan like Taryn, he saw everything in detail.

Just before he completely disintegrated, the Siniteen's skin vaporized, exposing the muscles, tendons, and ligaments in a caricature of an anatomy chart.  These too disappeared, the exact mechanism as Taryn saw it was that each organ, each tissue, each cell would attenuate as physical, chemical, and even nuclear bonds lost cohesiveness, the Siniteen discorporating entirely.

As suddenly as it had began so too did it end: from one moment an avatar of a Goddess, the next an exhausted young woman, gulping air as she fought to remain sensate.  It was only Taryn's swift reflexes that saved her from collapsing, his strong arms supporting her as she attempted to stand on senseless legs.  Mentally commanding both of their helmets to depolarize completely, Taryn could see Ari's face, now blank and numb.

"C'mon Poppet!  Not this, not now."  But everything that he tried, every word he said seemed to make no difference: Ari remained stupified and in a daze.  Mentally shifting gears, he tried another tactic.  "Aresaea...Myri needs us."

That did the trick.  As her eyes regained focus, Ari gave a small shake of her head.  "Sorry...Taryn..." She mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.  "I...she...he..." But try as she might, she could not speak further.

"No worries, Poppet.  You're knackered; I'll take care of what's what." Taryn's tone was gentle, at complete odds with the urgency in which he moved towards the jars.  With a swipe of his tremorsword, he was able to retrieve several of the biologics that had been tasked for "Procurement:" the ovaries, the hand, the rest of the brain, and, of course, the heart.  These he reverently placed into a stasis box, said box mechanically attaching to his armor's backplate seamlessly.

For the rest, he leveled his Hadesrifle, holding down the trigger until nothing remained but hyper-heated slag, the entire laboratory--including all data depositories concerning Procurement--utterly annihilated.

Half-carrying Ari, Taryn gave the place a once-over before placing a thermal detonator on the lone standing chair.  The timed explosion immolated the entire structure, the building collapsing as the Aertemisaea sped from the atmosphere, disappearing in a blink of pseudomotion, leaving nothing of their presence for anyone to remember.

<<<<>>>>

Feeling defeated, utterly exhausted, and melancholy, Ari had sank against a tree, trying to find something comforting in the warmth of the Garden Deck's faux sunlight.  But every lightyear that separated them from Tiss'shari Prime, the worse she felt, even the verdant nature that surrounded her reminding her of how...ephemeral life was.

...Mother...Saani... Another tear slid down her cheek. ...Papa Kazic…

"I'm sorry, Poppet." Taryn's voice held absolutely no hint of his usual bombastic tone.  Even still, Ari felt relieved that he was with her.

"Not your fault." She nodded at him.  "But thanks..."

The sudden silence surrounding them felt oppressive, underscored by the fact that Ari felt completely drained.  Whatever it was that she'd done had left her feeling...empty.  She only knew that it was something that had to be done.

"Take what you want and pay for it."  She had heard Kazic say before.  Well, it was a price that she was more than willing to pay...

Still, when Taryn spoke again, it helped to dispel some of the clouds around them.  "You know, if you wanted for me to stop flirting, you could've asked; no need to go all 'Goddess-Mode' while breaking bad." He winked, producing a small, fatigued smile.

"Sorry...just saw you looking at my legs and figured I'd give a warning..." She joked, her voice little above a whisper.

Nodding with a grin on his face, Taryn seemed to quickly sober.  "Ari...one thing that has me flummoxed: how is it we heard...spoke!...to Myri?  I know that I didn't just up and imagine that."

For long moments, Ari was silent.  Trying to work through the pain and exhaustion, she latched onto that which comforted her most: her family, but one in particular...

Saani.

The pain did not go away but at least it was...lessened by the remembered love for her Twi'Lek Mother.  And Kazic, she happily admitted.  But also her thoughts also seemed to drift towards Mili whenever she thought of people she...cared for.  She thought she should be surprised but, more and more as time went on, Ari considered Mili as more than just a friend.

"Poppet?" Taryn's voice was soft but steady, as if nothing could unnerve him.

"Sorry, thinking..." She stated.  Not only did thinking of Saani remind her of Kazic (and now Mili), but she was also reminded of another Vhal'Dan that had influenced her during her time at Galtea...

Anson.  Oh, he had never been a friend--much less family!--but he was incredibly powerful, as strong as a full Guardian.  And, if Kazic's attestation was indication, one who was a master of a very difficult skill.

Flow Walking.

"You're right; we did talk to Myri." Ari turned to face Taryn, staring into his eyes.  "Only we were not speaking to her in the 'Now' but instead from 'Then.'"  A silent tear escaped her watery eye, running down her cheek.  "We...we were the last people she spoke with, before...before they...before they murdered her."  She thought of the phantom pains that she'd experienced, the connection finally becoming apparent.  Goddesses she wanted to scream...

Taryn's face remained impassive.  "OK." Was all that he said.  Rising from his place, he walked past her.

Ari felt the grass beneath her, slowly running her fingers through while feeling each individual blade.

"Aresaea." Taryn's voice startled her; she'd thought he'd left... "You did everything you could.  And that includes giving Myri some bit of comfort during her last."  The look on his face was intense.  "Always remember that."  The hard look in his eyes seemed incongruous with his tone.  "I'll handle Myri's remains, prepare them for the Goddesses."  With that, he left her alone to her thoughts.

But try as she might, all Ari could think about is how--like the individual blades of grass--once deprived of vital breath, everything living would eventually wither and die...

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:46:22 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 6
Maryn

(https://i.ibb.co/0nvV7rx/Silenand-Screams5.png)
Coronet City, the Jewel of Corellia, famous for its space port that pumped the ‘best pilots in the galaxy’ across the stars, second to none Space Museum charting the history of star travel from the first combustion rockets to hyperdrive technology and everything in between.

CorSec patrols kept a clean and tidy city.

Until one passed the Blue Disttirc limits under the river to the industrial zones where Coronet shipping and Corellian Engineering had their enormous factories and near ground level dry docks. 

There the factories and work yard were secured by the companies iron fisted security that were for all intents and purposes private armies acting in their ‘special economic zones’ as militarized industrial states.

And past that on the 65-C subway that cut through the tunnels where the Mustela species Selonians made their abode, were the slums, the great unwashed workers that shuffled to the factories for 14 hour shifts, then returned to their shanty like pre-fab apartments that were old during the New sith wars, to pay half of their petty wages in protection money to the local gang whose symbol was painted over the previous gangs tags on the same patch of wall, the acrylic patina sometimes centimeters thick as the internice conflict caused entire hab blocks to change hands several times a decade.

But with those few precious hours and handful of remaining credits the workers made their simple lives in cramped single, or if lucky enough, two room apartments sharing with at least three, usually five generations of their family.

It was in the towering favela’s that two signals had come from.

Splitting at the ‘last safe subway station in Coronet’ Sofa headed ‘up’ into the apartment complexes while Jenaea and Maeson headed ‘down’ into the more gang infested lower levels, each following the thrumming pulse of the Tracer orb in their hip clasps.

Cloak over her armor Sofa mused how similar all these places were across the galaxy.  She could be on Courscant, Denon, Taris, Carratos... everythere there was always a vast underclass of impoverished beings scratching out a living exploited by the high and mighty in distant gleaming towers behind force-shields and riot troopers.

The People, for all their hatred of others, were the most purely egalitarian society she had ever witnessed, everyone had a place and role based on their talents, and everyone afforded utmost respect, Adaea’s savant like engineering genius was just as valued as her husbands gormin herding skills.

But then...when there aren’t even twenty of us everyone has to have a role she wondered if things would change as the population grew, a division not based on wealth as such concepts were foreign to the Aethans, bu perhaps the generational divide - the ones who remembered the world Before the Devastation, and those born After.

Suppressing her presence with the aether she moved at a normal aethan pace through the streets, to the humans it would look like a professional sprinter.  It was largely unnecessary, the majority of beings here were so focused on surviving the day they paid no attention to another wandering robed vagabond.

She’d been thinking a lot about the future of the People recently.  Things were changing, of all the rescues, Karintha and Yorna’s resurrection seemed to have changed the dynamics the most, Valens was only a reluctant leader and Karintha offered an safer option for him to handover than the fickle Lyaea or unwilling Milaea.

That would leave him free to focus more on her, and building a nicer home in a Hapan/Alderannian style, and then populating said home...

Stopping in front of another bland tower of hab-apartments the tracer orb pulsed up.  she took brief note of the Gang tag next to the rickety double doors - Black Vulkars - she offered a smirk, she had heard a tale of Bastila Shan once, a famous Jedi taken captive by the Black Vulkars millenia ago on Taris - she strongly doubted these were the ‘descendants’ of those swoop gangers, just a Corellian homegrown gang trading off a well known name.

With a sigh she strode in, taking the jittery turbo lift until the drag of the tracer orb evened out at level 38.

As soon as she stepped into the off brown walled corridor, floor and occasionally mopped plain durasteel she felt a presence ahead...no multiple presences...one familiar - not personally but in essential type, the other three....were...People?

Quickly down the hall she came to the thick bolted door and knocked gently.

There was no response.

She knocked again and a small eye hatch slid open
“What do you want?” a teen girl by the voice asked, cadence quick for a human.
“I’m looking for a lost friend of mine…”
“They’re not here,” the girl replied quickly, Sofa could feel a ripple in the aether as the teen instinctively strengthened the door - the girl was force sensitive.
“...well maybe not, but can you do me favour and let anyone who does, or used to live here know Aephrodaea came to visit…” Sofa knelt down as she spoke
“I’ll leave a flimisi with a holo-call number and some credits for your trouble,”

The eye slot slammed shut and Sofa’s genehanced hearing made out a conversation behind the door, her aetheric senses detected a calming presence, focused and kindly.

Heavy deadbolts clanked and the door opened.

<<<<>>>>

Her lip curled in disgust Jenaea sloughed off the glob of algae from her shoulder.

She’d spent years cleaning up excrement and emissions of all kinds, in one sense she was inured to it, but in a far more fundamental way she was soooo sick of it she couldn't abide being near the alien emulsions.

The tunnels beneath the towering favela’s were a haunted underworld populated by coughing and vomiting homeless, pickpocket children, and loan sharks with beefy tattooed guards wandering under dim blue lumens, stepping through algae patched puddles in the ferrocrete, and damp tangled reeds hanging down from rusted piped above plopping dollops onto passers by.

Turning into another rounded pipe twice their height and equally wide they proceeded down the sloped grated steel floor, at the end of which were two ramshackle gangers with orange arm bands playing pazaak on a blue milk crate.

Seeing her approach they hurriedly stood

“Ey you can’nay c’m ere wot!” one grunted

“Less em know da passing word,” the other sloughed out, Jenaea astounded he knew how to count to 20 to play pazaak.

She had zero time for anyone or anything in her way, her tolerance had been burned off by thousands of shock collar punishments years before.

“What's the password then?” her words backed by mental compulsion strong enough to cause the firsts nose to bleed and the second with ironically so little cognitive capacity there was barely anything to damage to stammer out the word.

“Muck-luck…”

“Muck-luck, now open the door,”

The big dumb on duly complied grabbing and bunching a handful of stripped wires together.

Maeson followed dutifully after her not saying a word, merely pausing to loom over the two dullards to ensure their most primal instincts registered the Aethan pair were not to be bothered again on pain of...well...pain.

Jenaea truly liked Maeson, he was a simple good man.  He tended his crops, worked at his carpentry, and went out every morning before sunrise to train so that on days like this he would bring quick brutal death to the enemies of the People.

He didn’t ask anything of her, only appreciated the time she spent with him. Maybe it wasn’t a love in the consumptive tradition of Orphys and Erydaea, but what was going between them slow and steady as the branching vines of Maesons crop was what they both needed - a tender comforting companion after so many years isolated and indentured.

The more fiery side, Jenaea was certain having oft spied Maeson barely clothed hefting soil, would certainly come later.

Proceeding to a large open area that had once been an intersection of dozens of sewer pipes into a vast bleak plugging drain further down they saw the orange bandana gang members scuffling about their petty tasks, programming slicers, hacking apart power packs, program scrubbing stolen droids, others asleep or eating in alcoves.

They paid them little attention as they passed through following the orbs call, suppressive aura’s avoiding scrutiny.

Jenaea made a mess as she went plundering through boxes and cabinet looking for whatever the orb was being drawn to, astonished gangers taring in confusion as, to their eyes subconsciously diverted from registering the existence of the two Aethans, objects flew from shelves of their own accord.

At a larger ‘store’ full of weapons and curious she finally found the source of the signal, a simple Triune Goddess totem made of polished durasteel.

Taking it from the bench the Duro store keeper looked at the seemingly floating item in puzzlement as Jenaea inspected it, finding etched on the bottom a single word.

Casaea.

<<<<>>>>

The teenage girls name was Mara, her younger sisters Mira and Meli, and barely walking brother Mase.

For Sofa it was obvious their real names were meant to be Maraea, Miraea, Melaea and Masyn.  The first sight of their faces was enough to see the ubiquitous facial identifiers, their presence in the aether. 

The two bedroom apartment was barely enough to fit them in, the living area served as a bedroom for the mother, the kitchen hardly divided by a low bench featured old worn metal utensils and perpetually empty plas food containers.
For housing four children it was remarkably clean and homely, but then they likely hadn’t the money to afford anything to clutter the place with.

The final piece of evidence was behind the small dining table, an old holopict of an obviously to Sofa’s eyes Aethan man, a weary sadness in his gaunt cheeks and darkened eyes that spoke of years of toil and isolation. 

On opening the Door Mara had greeted Sofa with a slug-shot gun to the chin, she was called off by the only adult in the room, seated at the tiny table - in neat but travel worn brown robes a Kel-Dor Jedi.

Unclasping her helmet the younger girls had looked in awe at her clean features, the Kel-dor who introduced himself as Ilm Nooro was genial inviting her to sit.

“Is that you father?” Sofa asked of the picture ignoring the Jedi, for now.

“Yes…” Mara said uncertain, the Slug-shot still on her lap.

“It’s alright Mara, she means you no harm,” Ilm comforted having sensed no deception nor ill will from the strange visitor.

“What was his name?” Sofa went on exuding a calming trusting presence toward the girl. 

Mara flinched back from it but couldn’t deny the familiarity of the touch.

“Maryn,”

“Maryn.  Did your father tell you stories, about Aephrodaea, Aertemisaea and Aethnaea,”

Mara remained tight lipped but Meli nodded
“Do you know any more?” the six year old asked
“Shhhh!” Mara insisted, protective of her sister.

“I do,” Sofa smiled even as part of her mind filled with worry and dread.

Their father was Aethan, but they were not fully - by some trick of biology they were part Aethan part human, they retained common external physiological features,but their thermal profile and mass was too low, most of their organs were human, if substantially stronger, and they possessed the aetheric sensitivity native to all People.

Sofa knew how protective the People were of their genetic purity - what she did not know was what they would make of such ‘half breeds’.  She, better than any, knew they could be ‘remade’ as full Aethans easily enough...but what else would be lost in the process, and how could a child choose such commitment, would they even be given a choice?

And if they didn’t accept them as lost children...would they purge them as little more than another example of outsider abominations? They had not flinched to destroy those Lucovis perverted with Sith Alchemy, and for too many of the People the difference in how genetic ‘contamination’ came about was irrelevant.

Whatever the case it was clear Maryn had tried his best to care for his children.  Had the operative word, it was immediately apparent his sense was fading from this place and the sorrow at his loss was etched in the aura of the older children.

“I’d be happy to tell you some a little later,”
Sofa turned to the Kel-dor
“What brings you here,” her tone was snippy

Ilm bowed slightly
“I am a Recruiter for the Jedi Order, I found these children on my usual rounds, I believe they might all make good candidates for the order,”

“Is that so…”
“And you miss Aephrodaea was it?”
“She can’t be though cause…” Mira said till Mara hushed her with a look.
“You’re right Miraea, I’m not Aephrodaea, but I do know her, I came looking for Maryn...and I’m sorry he passed away, but I’m happy to meet all of you now,”

“You knew the children's father,” Ilm inquired
“We’re distantly related,” Sofa said, giving little away to the Jedi.
“Will your mother be back soon?”
“Not for a while…” Mara said slowly warming to Sofa.

“Well while we wait why don’t I get us some food?” Sofa offered.
<<<<>>>>

At first they had fought.

Then they tried to run.

Now they simply waited their turn.

Maeson held the next up by the throat over the deep descending pit in the center of the sewer nexus of the orange bandana as Jenaea asked them the same question with increasing frustration.

“Where did it come from?” she asked with sledgehammer subtlety in her mental barb as she waved the totem.

“d...don’t….”
With a roll of her eyes Maeson let him drop.  there was no sound for several second then a crack and splosh.

Goddesses she was tired of this.  This whole damn signal tracking thing was depressing enough, but the utter lack of any kind of success had shredded what little patience she had for it.

“One of you must know something!” she yelled to the rest, cowering with various broken limbs from their initial resistance, she brandished the totem like weapon as she strode along the ranks of the defeated gangers.

“This didn’t appear out of thin frelling air. Where!” she punctuated each of her next words with a kick to the already beaten figures.

“Did. It. Come. From!”

The last kick outright shattered the sternum and ribs of the human leaving him fatally wounded.

“It…” squeaked a Chandra-fan
“It been there long as anyone remember...maybe traded multi-year ago?”

“Is that it?” she glared hands on her hips

None of the others seemed to know any more.

“Then frell the lot of you,” in a single smooth sweeping motion she drew her haders pistol and fired into each other heads.

“I’m sick of this, had it just had it,”

Maeson felt it too, the gnawing emptiness of another lead coming to a dead end.

“It’s no just that,” she snapped
“I don’t want to be here, I’m tired of running around doing...things…anythings,”

He looked puzzled,

“Ugh! You’re so simple, too simple!” she stormed off back the way they had come past the still smoking skulls.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:47:21 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 7
Maryn


Leena was a mid forties human with the worn features common to workers in the Corellian Drive yards, clearly a tad underfed it was immediately obvious she had to take on a lot once her husband was gone.

But her love for her children shone bright through the toil.  As soon as she entered she swept them in her arms, the younger girls chatting all at once while Mara held the little boy.

“Slow down,” she smiled through dust covered loose hair
“Master Nooro, is this another Jedi,”

Sofa restrained any reply

“Actually I came here looking for Maryn,” Sofa explained extending her hand
“Nena,” she introduced herself, she didn’t know Master Noroo, but didn’t want to risk the name drop.
“Nena…” Leena stood

“I...I’m sorry to have to tell you but,”

“I know, but we can talk more about that later, I’ve brought some food and games for the childrens, I’ll cook something up while you clean up.”

With a nod from Nooro Leena agreed, within an hour the children were fed and playing on the kitchen floor with a small board game Sofa had bought.

“Thank you for the food Nena...so how did you know Maryn,” Leena asked just the three of them at the main table

“We are family from before if you take my meaning,”

Sad recognition lit in Leena’s eyes
“Oh...I...I understand Maryn told me, not much but enough,”
Noroo seemed inquisitive at the shared secret but remained silent.

“I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner,” Sofa said
“I’m amazed you came at all, Maryn...he always hoped but…”
She shook her head
“I wish you had too,”
“If I may,” Sofa leaned closer
“How did he…”
“He...he worked so hard to provide for us...he could put out more units than anyone on the line...but I think it was too much in the end, he just started to waste away, the Doctor had never seen his...well his species before and didn’ know how to help - not that we could really afford any treatments...”

Based on the pict Sofa could guess it was simply lack of nutrition in the end, the People could survive a long time on limited rations as part of genetic design for prolonged warfare -, but their diet inevitably required heavy trace elements rarely found in any ‘outsider’ food- indeed often toxic to humanoids. As a child in the Temple Milaea had to always have a number of supplements along with her triple sized meals, with limited finances Maryn could never have afforded what he needed even if he knew the names of the elements and isotopes.

It was astonishing he lasted as many years as he did.  The giggling children on the floor had probably added 10 years to his life through sheer will power to provide as long as he could.

“He wanted so much more for the kids, worried about them so...it’s been so wonderful to have the master here, he thinks they might be Jedi,” she beamed

“They are strong in the Force, at the Temple they will have a far better quality of life,” the Jedi agreed.

Sofa might not be certain how the others would react to news of half Aethan children, but she was absolutely certain she would never allow a child to be taken by the Jedi if she could prevent it.

“That won’t be necessary master,” Sofa turned to Leena
“Leena I can give you all the credits you’ll need to get out of here and buy your way onto Alderaan or Chandrilla, you’ll be safe there,” she quickly reached for her hip pouch producing three fresh 1000 credit chits

“Much more where that came from...We couldn’t help Maryn in time, but I will make sure your children are kept safe,”

Even from their own People Sofa thought darkly

“I...I don’t know what to…”

“Exactly where are you from ‘Nena’” the Jedi asked
“You seem to have an abundance of highly advanced weaponry and credits,”

“I told you, I’m related to Maryn distantly...Leena trust me don’t let the Jedi take your children from you, they are not the shining knights you think, they are in more danger of being abused in that glittering temple than if they slept on the streets of Nar shadda,” 

Sofa could feel her own trauma and fear for her children bubbling in her words. 

What if one day as she was nursing her own little baby the Jedi came for them, took the baby and the same things that happened to her happened to her child.

She didn’t flinch from it, she gave into her emotion to spite the teachings of serenity the Jedi had force fed her after stripping her from her family, leaving her parents to deal with the fallout of the depredations of her own ‘recruiter’ who exploited the sister she never knew, Nena, on a return visit to check if ‘she also had potential like Sofa’. 

She wouldn’t allow it - and she had the strength of a dozen Jedi to stop it.

“I...I need to think about all this…” Leena slid the chits back to Sofa
“Thank you for the food and games Nena, but I think it's time for the kids to go to bed, Master,”

Noroo nodded and stood to leave.

“Till the morrow,” he said through his breathing apparatus

Or sooner.

<<<<>>>>

Wandering aimlessly through the partially drained sewer networks Jenaea clutched Casaea’s totem in one hand, her pistol in the other. 

Vagrants, gangers, pickpockets and hawkers largely left the stomping black walking shadow alone.  The handful that tried anything were among the unhappy few in the republic to learn what Chiss Macro-maser energy tasted like.

She reached a natural end at an opening to the polluted river several dozen stories below, the corroded grate letting in bars of muddy orange light changed from pure yellow by passing through the emission haze above the vast Corellian Engineering Corp buildings across the river.

Maeson jogged behind, cleaning up the chaos she left in her wake with blade and blaster.

“I don’t want to be here,” she said as he approached closer

“I’m sick of the travel, the droning of the hyperdrive, clasping on this heavy junk to wander round stinking outsider filled space ports following whispers and rumours only to find shavit all….”

As if to emphasize the point she sagged under the weight of the ultradense mark 1 armour leaning against the grate to the outside that groaned as its rusted bars were stretched.

“Haven’t I done enough?” she pleaded

“Twenty years slaving in filth, my neck burnt by a shock collar every other frelling hour, months with those stinking blue faced Chiss, grinding my teeth to follow their rules...home for a few months before being dragged off to these scum pits looking for crumbs of clues...I’m tired of everything...I just want to do what I want to for once...do nothing...”

She slid down the wall hand loosening to let the totem roll into the murky puddles.

Jenaea well understood the why of it all - their vastly limited manpower, the urgent need to find any survivors they could - Maeson didn’t doubt she wanted to help - she just didn’t have the mental resources to do so. 

She wasn’t used to the constant Deploy/Fight/Retreat as Maeson had become accustomed to with the sons, itinerant combat like Taryn in his pirate days, not raised to be a Guardian as Yorna and Karintha.  This was not the life she had wanted after being rescued - pushed too hard too fast in response to events instead of being given her own time and choices.

“I’m sorry…” was the least he could offer kneeling before her picking up the totem. 

Apart from the whispered cry for help there were no other obvious traces of memory his psychometric abilities could detect, Milaea or another of the stronger People might detect more, and an analysis of the exact composition of the durasteel might offer some clues - but nothing more could be done here.

“...we’ll head back to the ship, nothing for us here....I can speak to the others, see if we can skip the rendezvous and head back…”

She shook her head feeling some consolation in that he truly understood.

“I don’t want to delay things, just...just get this whole thing over and done with while we’re out here…”

Taking her hand to help her up she leaned into his chest, annoyed at the blackstone plate between them.

<<<<>>>>

Turning down another corner there was no longer any doubt she was following him.

“Was there something you wished to discuss, Nena?” Master Noroo asked, pausing in the middle of the humidity wet path between buildings.

“I won’t let you take those children, don’t come back here,”

“That is not your choice to make,” The Kel-dor turned slowly, hands open and outstretched to show he desired no conflict.

“I can sense your genuine desire to protect the children, willingness to support them materially, but you must understand the Jedi order can offer them a far better life than anything they can find here, one of meaningful service and…”

“Shove your propaganda,”

“I do not understand this…revulsion you have for the Jedi, clearly you are skilled in the Force, you are actively choosing not control your aggression, it is a poison to the soul to harbour such hatred,”

“The only poisons I suffer from are the ones the Jedi injected me with,” heavy boots stepped forward, the Jedi remained in his place unwilling to show a retreat - not out of pride but careful knowledge that to flinch was to fall against such an unstable being.
“I won’t let you do the same to anyone else,”

“Those children need training, guidance to control their powers, the Temple is the safest place for…”

“SAFE!” the entire alley shook with the booming refutation
“No one is safe in that den of sexually repressed dogmatic old men...least of all children stolen from their families with no one to turn to - no one who will believe anything bad being said about the ‘honoured masters’,”

Nooro began to comprehend the source of at least some of her rage.
“There have been tragic incidents in the past, terrible oversights, but the Order has removed those elements and put in place…”

“The Order is the problem!”

She was barely an arms length away from him now.

“You make children soldiers, subject them to gruelling training, emotional repression that would count as child abuse if it weren’t protected by your sick deal with the Republic and veneer of ‘religion’”

“Nena, I don’t know what you have suffered, but I give you my word, these children will be protect…”

He slammed into the wall with more force than his aged frame could cope, feeling the pop of his shoulder and hip, a forearm blacker than the depths of space cracking his collar bone as it pinned him half a meter above the ground.

“I am the only one who can protect them, from You and Them

Her mind was made up - she would not risk exposing the children to either the strictures of the Jedi, nor the monocultural xenophobia of the People.  After all the family had suffered they deserved to be free to make their own life un-shadowed by the War in the Pitiless Stars between Aethan and Outsider.

Ilm Noroo was past his prime, even without the broken bones he knew this Nena woman was a grade above him in sheer strength. He had only his wisdom built over decades to try to save her.

“Nena...this will not soothe your pain,”

“I’m not trying to,” was her cold reply as she let him drop to the eternally wet with backed up sewage ground.

“Get out of here. If you tell anyone any of this….”

<<<<>>>>

<We’re ready to leave, we found a totem made by Casaea that was sending the signal, but no other information. Need any help?> Maeson singalled across their telepathic link, a sense of urgency to be done with this world in his mental ‘tone’

It came as a relief to Sofa giving her more time.

<Head on to the ship, I won’t be long...I found Maryn, he died of malnutrition a few years ago, I just need to tidy up a few loose ends.> her words were truthful if omitting key details.

<Problems with the gangs?> Maeson queried

<Just a few footprints I need to sweep up,>

Sofa brought up an analogy to the experiments the Revenant had performed on Tarasens body, implying if not stating some genetic material short of a body needed to be purged.

<Understood, here if you need us,>
<Thanks Maeson,>
The main telepathic link shut off she knocked on the door.

Again Mara peered out.

“Morning Mara, I’ve come to talk with your mother,”

“hmmmm Okay…”
Mara was slow to trust, having taken on the role of protector for her younger siblings.

“Nena...sorry I really need to get going to work, I’m late as it is getting the kids dressed for school, Master Noroo was to come over and help but he hasn’t showed up….”

“You don’t need to go to that factory ever again Leena,”

Sofa placed a newly bought satchel bag on the kitchen counter.

“I took a short trip to the outer city last night, look inside,”

Puzzled but curious, she opened the satchel to reveal vacuum sealed new clothes, a plas-envelope with three Coronet Banking Cards and newly printed first class subway tickets to the inner city.

“There’s 750,000 credits in the main account, 250,000 in trust for each of the kids...I’ve also booked you a suite in Coronet, you can stay here or find a secure liner anywhere in the galaxy.  Get changed and I’ll escort you there,”

“Nena I...I can’t even believe this....” Leena looked to Mara who was scrutinising Sofa.

<Who are you really….> Mara asked telepathically, her face furrowed in concentration, the ability clearly not as natural to her as a full blood Aethan.

It was a good question, and one perhaps Sofa didn’t ask herself enough.
<My name is Sofa Neirai, I used to be a Jedi, I learned first hand how they destroy people's lives and families.  I joined another family of People like your father...the People of Aethenaea, Aephrodaea and Aertemisaea.  They are close, and loving, but dangerous and unpredictable.  We came looking for Maryn, and I’m afraid if they discovered you they would give you even less choice than the Jedi,>

Sofa avoided any hint at the possibility of a more violent outcome

<I want you to live a life of your own choice, and keep your family together - that means staying away from the Jedi, People or anyone with powers like them.>

<Who is Nena then?> Mara probed further as Leena looked puzzled by the two staring at each other.

<She was my sister, she...died...because a Jedi hurt her.>

Mara looked to her own siblings then to her mother

“I believe her,” she said firmly

Leena nodded slowly as her heart beat excitedly

“I know my children are special, they see things, know things that…” Leena said there was little more for her to say, as she didn’t understand herself.

“If Mara trusts you then I know you really mean what you say,”

She turned a knelt to her children handing out the new clothes

“Everyone get changed, Meli help Mase, then pack up all your toys we’re finding a new home,”

<<<<<>>>>

She plonked down on the opposite side of the tree trunk to Jenaea, the faux light of the nature deck that tried its best to imitate the high radiation of Aethas star turned up to its highest setting.

“Sucks,” Sofa breathed out feeling more comfortable after finally getting out of her armour

“Sucks,” Jenaea agreed

During their training on the Steppe they had become close enough to understand the others' exasperation and bitterness at any reminder of their trauma’s or imposition on their time or choice.

“Nothing?” Jenaea asked
“Nothing left to do,” Sofa affirmed truthfully for a different context.

“How much more before we get to go home…” Jenaea asked rhetorically, less about this particular quest for signals than the whole process of trying to reground their society.

“Too much…” Sofa replied, the fresh memory of Leena’s children bouncing on the big clean double beds of the hotel making her only more envious for her own family.

“too much…”
<<<<<>>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:53:04 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 8
Xaraea

If she was concerned for herself, it was only because her wellbeing was critical to her daughters.
She had awoken in a cage, a dried bloody scar on the back of her head, hair matted.

There were lots of cages with other things in them, even after so many years on Carratos Xaraea hadn’t learned the names of all the species that was always...always her husband's area...until he vanished...leaving her and Xanaea…

and now..she was vanishing before her own eyes.

She grabbed the bars, the electrical field tingling but not hurting her, and pulled them apart.

The furred feline creatures had reacted swiftly firing their blue bolt weapons at her.

She got to one of them, her hand on its face she simply squeezed and its skull imploded in a blood mess in her hand.

But by then their burning electrical whips were around her from all sides, the stun energies gradually plunged her into the balck again.

This time when she awoke the smell was stronger, and there were no bars, just blank dark metal walls, her body doubled over to fit her into the box.

There was a constant tingling static on her skin, a current passed through to keep her in a perpetual state of semi-electrocution, a thick painful collar around her neck that jolted her ever half second keeping her from gathering enough wherewithal to telekinetically bash the box open.

Only her primal desperation to get back to her daughter escaped


That cry was heard, followed and now burned into Selaena’s senses as she sat before the cage that had held not just one, but at least five People over the course of the Zyggerian slave haulers lifetime.

They had tracked it with both the Obelisk array signals and more conventional means of docking data Colm Maynard had obtained.

the Queens Leash was a vast Zygerrian Slave hauler that made the round of the mid-rim. While slavery was nominally illegal in the Republic, the Zygerrian’s still made a good trade by following a circuit of dozens of less law abiding systems picking up victims sold to them by local gangsters, warlords, corrupt politicians, and corrections facilities selling off ‘extras’ from overcrowded prisons. 

Lyr called it a ‘sentient garbage collection service’. 

The Twi’lek was lucky Selaena’s rage was focused elsewhere at the time.

That rage was now unleashed upon the feline slaver species.

The ship ran a predictable route through the galactic northern mid rim. While slavery was nominally illegal in the Republic, the Zygerrian’s were made a good trade by following a circuit of dozens of less law abiding systems picking up victims sold to them by local gangsters, warlords, corrupt politicians, and corrections facilities selling off ‘extras’ from overcrowded prisons. 

Lyr called it a ‘sentient garbage collection service’. 

A well placed Dovin basal had dragged it out of hyperspace - an extra vehicular leap had put her and her daughters on the hull.  Lyaea mind addled the bridge crew into seeing their worst nightmares become reality leading to a vicious free for all, Adaea had hacked into the control panels to open the docking bay doors to admit thirty EXtolled warriors baying or blood.

Selaena had torm the doonium hull open with her bare hands and raced through the corridors and Slave cage decks like a shadow wind of death, the more superstitious cat-men calling her Tez’cat’lipoca, the Black Jag’uuar God of Zygerrian Myth.

The Zygerrians were armed to fight slaves with electro whips and stun rifles - few lived long enough to realise they were ineffective against the Voduun Crab armour of the Extolled.  None lived to see how ineffectual it was against Oblivion Armour. 

The Slave Cell holds were mired in anesthetic gases that kept the slave docile, half awake at best.  The more ‘difficult product’ got triple the dose and electrified stun ‘boxes’.  Nothing else could’ve kept an Aethan in for long.

Selaena’s fists clenched, her arms were covered to the elbow in blood, her daggers only clean because the shatterpoint enchantment repelled any detritus accumulating upon it.  Both had drunk over a dozen throats.

She pressed her mind back across the Temporal plane even as the fighting continued around her - Extolled thud bugs shattered Zygerrian torso’s, amphisaffs rigid were hurled as spears. 

A few of the Zygerian marines rushed out, finally with lethal weapons from the armoury - Adaea stripped them from their hands with a telekinetic grasp then punctured an oblivion arrow through three of their necks - the rest ran.  The Extolled dragged them back.

Selaeana looked on at the five People who had been held here, an eldritch calculus in her mind working out the approximate time in the past they had been held based on the aetheric energy needed to Flow Sight backward to see them.

But there, just two years before, was a woman with Xanaea’s precise features but worn by malnutrition and stress.

Xaraea....she was crying, terrified what would happen to Xani.  Selaena wished she could tell her, comfort her…

...but such industrial metal didn’t hold the aether tightly, on a vessel that moved billions of kilometers a month less so, she couldn’t touch her in distant then and there and tell Xaraea that she had found, brought back home, and would care for Xani and protect her as one her own children.

But she might yet….

There was still a chance.

<<<<>>>>

This was a family matter.

Xani was everyones little sister.  The brightest hopeful spark among the People with her indefatigable curiosity and excitement for anything and everything. 

That both her parents had been stolen from her was the done shadow on her sunshine disposition.  Having found her fathers remains on a moon of Trandosha was, if not relief, then closure.

Adaea was hopeful they could find her mother, if anyone deserved a reunion it was that sweet girl...but she was pragmatic enough to know that a second closure was likely all that would be found.

They were deep under the vast Mesa’s of Zyggeria, beneath the ‘Exchange’ - the trading arm of the Zygerrian Monarchy that purchased the vast majority of slaves from the independent Zygerrian ‘Product Seekers’, then with an appropriate mark-up, sold them to offworlders or local Zygerrians generating the vast wealth of the Zygerrian empire in the margin between the buy and sell price.

They had entered the system under the Queens Leash, then sent the slave hauler - emptied of its victims whom they had handed over to a grateful Mumbles and the Sons of Kessel - straight into the Zygerrian Naval Platform at the edge of the system.

Adaea loved stories, and knew their power.  the Story of the Sons of Kessel wiping out the platform and two regiments of Royal guard and as many Zygerian marines in their own system would spread far and wide, keeping the light of their reputation alive even as their numbers remained insignificant.

For now she followed the Chuk'a - mollusk-like worms bioengineered by the Extolled that could dig through all sorts of materials even metal and stone with their pincers, excreting the digested material into useful mater forms for Yuuzhan-Vong buildings.

The guest house manager hadn’t understand why they wanted the basement instead of a room near, but she was so addled by Adaea’s mental suppression she didn’t question when eight other heavy beings carrying large undulating living containers followed her down.

The worms tails suddenly stopped, an indication they had reached a different strata layer and were contemplating whether to try it or not.  the Shaper Tssag linked to the beasts through a biot-neural net turned to her

“Gracious Avatar we have reached a structure,”

Stepping past the worms slid backward giving her what little space they could.

She quickly saw the Ferrorcrete, shifting away more moist dirt she saw the micro fissures she needed.

With a simple tap of her aetherically strengthened knuckle the shatterpoint energy cracked the render into chunky fist sized fragments and she stepped into the computer core.

The room was large with wall covering quantum processors flicking with yellow lights in the dark, enormous ventilation shafts keeping them cool.

She scanned the large databanks for input terminals, finally finding a maintenance console she connected the Chiss Slicer, the Cheunh based coding lacing through the ‘outer’ firewalls easily enough, she set to work on the inner.

It was like a game to her, all the technical science and mathematics, like unpuzzling a knotted ball of yarn in her mothers sewing box. 

Coding a breaker on the fly she waited for the system defence to be overridden by linking in a data drive in preparation,and hacking the nearby holovid cameras to a loop.

Suddenly feeling a shift in mass nearby as the turbo lift doors swung open.

“Wha….” the short Zygerrians words stopped quickly

“Nothing is wrong here, go about your...actually...can you unlock this terminal for me?” Adaea asked telepathic needles skewering any resistance from the technician.

“Oh...of course, nothing is wrong…” the feline went on in a haze readily assisting her.

“Strange you came down here so late,” Adaea mused

“Oh the temperature spiked...that hole in the wall I suspect…” He pointed to her entry with one listless hand as he kept typing.

A comm in an upper pocket of the zygerrians work outfit buzzed

“You should answer that,”
“I should answer that...hello…”
“Status report,”
“Everything is fine” Adaea coached
“Everything is fine,” he repeated to the stern feminine voice on the other end
“The temperature increase has been addressed, no further action,” she went ont
“The temperature increase has been addressed, no further action,” he mirrored.
“Good boy!” she smiled
“Good Boy!” he added
“huh?” was the response on the other end
Ooops… She grabbed the comm link and switch it off hurriedly, hoping they didn’t investigate it further.

“It’s unlocked,” he informed her, the data pouring across the screen of ‘Product ID’ and sales details.  her hands moving faster than the Zygerrian could track filtered and cross referenced records to the time frames they estimated the People were taken.  While species was listed there was of course no entry for ‘Aethan’ given barely anyone knew their species existed.  She focused on ‘Meta Human’ and ‘Other Humanoid’.

That resulted in thousands upon thousands of entries, so many beings...for a brief moment she wondered if there were outsiders out there sad at their losses too…

But quickly dismissed the idea, outsiders were much too callous and brutish to care for their own.

They didn’t care and love each other like People, if they did, slave empires like Zygerria wouldn’t exist at all, the Twi’leks, humans, togruta - someone would’ve blasted the feline face things into the dust for their egregious crimes.

If only Adaea mused as she delved the data, re-routing server capacity to deal with the enormous amount of records, they had some way of bombing all these outsider worlds from the comfort of Aethas...maybe the Obelisk array could be…

Her mind flared as the Turbolift once more moved the idle thought dissolving.

Four Royal Guards stepped out their Electro-pikes at the ready in keeping with their training.

“The system just locked out access across the entire market! What is going on down...” the leader topped as she saw Adaea - or rather saw an vast black silhouette of humanoid proportions.
“...here…”

<How annoying…> Adaea sighed. As their pikes flared on, their bodies flew back into the wall with a kinetic ball in each of their chests.

Adaea never even turned from the screen as they struggled pinned.  She would just have to analyse a copy of the data back on the ship.

<Lya, can you help me clean up?>

Her sister now by marriage and adoption was quick in coming peering at the Zygerrians
<Let’s have some fun…> Lyaea determined, ever eager to pull a prank, she tapped the first Zygerrian on the hear pushing compulsion upon them that decimated their will power.

 “This little Zyggy went to the markets, and blew himself up in the bidding crowd…”

“This little Zyggy went crazy with thermal detonators tossing them all about!” Adaea joined in

“This little Zyggy started stealing credits and sending it account 441-XTG-9912!” Lyaea added the payment code to one of their shadow bank accounts.

“And this little Zyggy went wa wa wa and chased the Queen all around!” Adaea finished.

“Of course all the little Zyggy’s forgot we were here, and explained to the Commander the hole in the wall was caused by….” Lyaea left it hanging

“A giant pink Bantha!” Adaea finished
“Oh but we forgot this littlest Zyggy,” she looked at the slowly rocking technician

He had been helpful, he deserved some special task.  What would Xani think is fun….
“And this little Zyggy...made all the cruel Zygerrian systems stop working for a long long time and made all the trading systems play ‘Ewok Adventures’ episodes!”

<<<<>>>>

There had been a moment.  A Bright shining painful moment when they dared to hope.

Adaea had discerned one of the records, they stopped at a mid jump point to get some details from Colm to confirm the account owner and then headed straight to Cantonica.

It was a moment that, as Lyaea had learned of all thing entertaining or amusing, did not last.

Now she sat on a Mossfe-Silk lounge kicking a the Casino manager tied to the chandelier by the ankles upside down via a hissing amphistaff.

Xaraea had been here, for three months, the majority of which were spent in a basement being ‘disciplined’ for failing in her task as a ‘Glamour girl’ to ‘entertain’ the high rollers, and not being appreciative of the ‘wonderful life’ the Manager, a Caskadag who had purchased her along with half a dozen other female on Zygerria, had given her.

Xaraea managed to escape - the Casino far less experienced in holding slaves whose will was unbroken than Zygerria -  killed three guards, stolen a speeder and come so close to getting a ship offworld…

But not close enough.

An example was made - eventually - the other ‘Glamour girls’ who had witnessed it explaining that before...Xaraea had telekinetically garroted half a dozen security and police, they had to stun her unconscious before they…

An example would be made in turn of this Caskadag.

Finally bored of simply kicking him she knelt in front of him.

“What do you love the most…”

His deep set eyes flickered to his twi’leki paramour -also upside down pinned to the wall by two oblivion sword in his hips, blood staining the white silken gown they had found the pair cavorting in.

“No…not him…” Lyaea pressed all business now

His eyes moved again to his latinum plated desk, currently stained by his own blood from when they had broken through the wall rather than bother with the door to grab him.

“Your wealth, you Casino...your legacy…” she purred
“Well you’re going to die knowing that all you have built is going to be stripped from your Clutch, and taken by mine... “
The desert dwelling and relatively long lived Caskadag placed great value on ensuring the continuity of their wealth through their ‘Clutch’ or family lineage.

This garnered a reaction at last.

“Tssag…my loyal servant…” she flashed her eyes with lighting to impress the Extolled shaper, Goddesses she grew bored of catering to their zealous need for attention and affirmation, like petulant Holo-Movie groupies, but they had too many uses. 

“Avatar, I live to serve,” he bowed

“What is the worst you can do and leave him alive…”

“The plaeyrin-kol acid I believe will stimulate this creatures nerves constantly...but I have never encountered this species…”

“Feel free to experiment,” she smiled, Tssag’s loyalty she understood had less to do with religious devotion than being given free reign to indulge his morbid curiosities.
“We leave as soon as Adaea has transferred the ownership of this place to us,”
A casino could come in handy one day she figured, and provide steady revenue.
“...assuming you can wait till then mom?”
Selaena nodded even as she caressed her dagger, the Goddesses Vengeance though delayed was never denied.

Xaraea was lost, Xanaea would get closure, and a story to carry with her of her mother, little consolation.

Lyaea strode to the ornate Hapan Crysta-glass window framed with Worshyr wood panels overlooking the breadth of the Casino, her new plaything, a new gem to add to the horde of their possessions of technology and wealth accumulated since the devastation.  Her face only showed a bitter uncharacteristic grimace as she recited to herself.

"See the worlds we have conquered...we win every spin of the wheel...get everything we go after....But I'd trade all these worlds we have conquered for one moment of one yesterday..."

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 01:54:45 AM
 
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 9

Emyl and Wynaea

(https://i.ibb.co/8XC301R/Silenand-Screams6.png)
“...so I said ‘That may be, but my power cell still has a charge.”

The punch line was followed with the raucous hollow laughs echoing within the beskar helmets of those crowded around the long table strewn with empty glasses of the local ale.

Galv Hedt took another long draught of the syrupy fluid, then slammed the glass onto the table cracking it.

“Ahhh, Laandur [Weak]!” he complained, turning to the Dug bar tender whose tiny forelimbs were cleaning some cocktail glasses under the dim pink lights of the bar.
“Oya, Got anything stronger?”

With a grunt the Dug sought out a few bottles under the counter, the Mando’s made a mess but they tipped well.  As he hopped over to put the bottle on the table another customer entered cloaked in a dark robe taking a seat alone, unnoticed.

The drinking and tall tales continued for another hour, the only other customer seated still hooded behind an untouched drink.

Finally the Mando’a, many of the younger ones deep in their cups, decided enough was enough and each tossed a handful of chits on the table, never paying attention to how much they handed out compared to the cost of the drinks themselves they typically ended up paying double which as why the Dug didn’t mind the fact they scared off the rest of the customers late on the darker cycle of the ever shadowed moon.

As helmets clicked on the other customer turned toward them.

“You’re Galv Hedt.” the voice seemed absent high pitch of a woman or lower rumbles of a man.
“Eh, who wants to know,” the Mando’a mercenary grunted, always surly when drunk.

“Al'verde of the Tracyn Akaata, who rides the Basilisk Kyr'ad Kyr'vhetine ” the shadowed figure stated,

That was in basic - the commander of the Fire Battalion who rides the War Droid mount ‘Death Harvest’  - a ‘free company’ of Mando’a the Fire Battalion cared not for clan or kin only ability, Hedt possessed one of the few remaining Mando’a Basiliks still in operation, an ancient semi sentient war droid said to have seen fighting in the age of Revan...though given upgrades and repairs over the years the physical shell was totally different but the droid mind was said to be the same.

It was a potent and powerful object of near veneration that had allowed his company to grow.

“What do you want Aruetii,” Hedt growled
Aruetii was a pejorative term for ‘outsiders’, but also ‘traitors’

“You rode your Basilisk to Ylesia, destroyed a spice mine there from above,”

Now the others were paying attention, fingering their blasters and vibro-swords.

“Years ago,” Hedt strode forward, hands on his belt close to his holstered disintegrator pistols, dark grey metallic armour gleaming in the pink light.

“The mines and refineries were manned by slaves, one of them was a man named Emyl, he died, incinerated from Basilisk fire he never saw coming in a war not his own between two Kajidics who had traded him back and forth as no more than a fixture of that refinery a dozen times before...you don't even remember do you?”

“I’ve blasted dozens of hutt dumps over the years, why would I?” he sneered

“Because Emyl was there - because he called for vengeance upon those who had harmed him...and that is why I’m going to kill you,”

Mando’a hardly needed much prompt to attack, those simple words more than enough.

Pistols and rifles were drawn, crush-gaunts charged - but quick as they drew, their hands kept going as if gripped in an invisible fist, ramming their barrels under the helmet into their chins and neck before the triggers pulled of their own accord.

Half of Hedts men shot themselves.

Turjaryr,” Sorcery, like the fabled Jetti he cursed.

In the blink of an eye the robed figure was gone, a walking shadow in its place twin swords of burning blue flames as it leapt forward.

He should’ve pulled his disruptors and deflagrated the thing...but his hands were frozen in stone.

He stared helpless as the black wall of a helmet filled his vision, scratching fire plunging into his chest as the beskar shattered.

Kiraea swiftly ran the blades up and through slicing his torso into thirds. Beskar was tough even for Blackstone to breach, it had taken the majority of her blades' shatterpoint enchanted energy to crack it along the micro-fissures, but to see the murderer of Emyl flop into meaty cauterized chunks was worth it.

The other Mando quick to respond, but not quick enough - drunk and clumsy they were not at their best - fast and furious she was close to hers, slaying through them with a combination of telekinetic grips to pin their limbs in awkward places and drive her swords into armour joints, the flame enchantments consuming all the bio matter they could leaving smoking husks within beskar plate.

Merk managed to get close, grabbing one of her arms with his crush gaunts, the reactive fabric tripling his strength - it creaked against the ultradense plating of the Mark 1 Armour but wasn’t quite able to crack it - leaning back he tried to use his weight to drag her down, but had not accounted for the fact she weighed more than twice he did, a lean into his grip and he lost his footing, flailing she grunted to lift his whole weight on one arm and slam him down into the table. as her other arm blocked a handful of shots.

Eyes flashing blue she sent a kinetic wave to throw off the remaining Mando before driving her blade into Merk’s neck.

A few tried to run from the witch, only to have their ankles grabbed by her mind and hauled up to the ceiling leaving them dangling awaiting decapitation.

Within three minutes the whole fight was over.

As she strode out into the night, Colm Maynard slipped in and slid the 5000 credit untraceable-Crypto-Card to the Dug as agreed. 

Nominally there to handle the ‘routine’ tasks of piloting, docking, and general transport, Karintha and Valens had suggested Colm keep a close eye on Kiraea, still recovering from some terrible incident his demi-god employers did not deign to discuss, and Kiraea certainly wouldn’t.

To that end as part of ‘scouting’ for the Mando’a using his underworld contacts he’d made sure to arrange for a little extra to be slipped into their drinks before telling Kiraea where to find them and when.

The Dug took the card happily, the Mando had been good customers, but they did scare others away and he didn’t need their kind of boisterous behaviour giving his bar a bad name.

“ A little extra,” Colm slipped six regular 100 chits
“For the Clean up, Sordon Tower 42-A, feel free to take a set or two,” he explained to arrange some of the beskar and weapons to be sent to his ship, the Sons could always use good equipment and there was none better than that - accepting his own masters Chiss/Aethan Hybrid tech.

Colm might be mind slaved, but part of that was taking a long view to whatever benefited Kiri and the others.

A task especially important when she couldn’t see past the next fight.

<<<<<>>>>>

Rain hissed to steam as it struck the cauterized stump that had been a neck.

The Mirialan dropped, its lightsabre rolling onto the weather flooded street bubbling the water then switching off, its red glow gone, the washed out whites of nearby buildings were all that remained.

“He was unworthy,” the Master said, her voice haughty as her posture, though shorter than both her former apprentice and his killer, she seemed always to be looking down upon them. 

For how could she not, she was Dark Lady of the Sith, of the True line of Bane, apprentice of  Darth Lucovis himself.  Her Master had been killed three years earlier in his foolish games with the Black Sun as Vigo Xithar.  It was an error, she understood, to become so prominent, Lucovis had wasted too much time and energy on his criminal empire not cultivating the darker arts as a Sith should, and staying to the true deep shadows of the Republic.

Her own crimson Qixoni lightsaber blade thrumming and hissing with each drop of rain Kiraea smiled with satisfaction.

Not only at her latest kill, but the foolishness of the so called Sith Lady before her - Lucovis had a dozen ‘back-up’ apprentices - Valens himself had killed six on Nimban, Milaea and Adaea another each during those fraught times. This would be Sith Lady was one of probably four or five more scattered about lost without their master and oblivious to the fact Darth Vectivus - Galdin Krennic - who had escaped Ord Mirit was the true inheritor.

No doubt Vectivus would take care of them, but he was a cautious and precise operator and would take his time.  It served the People’s purpose to leave him as the true Dark Lord, for he well knew to keep his distance from the People.

“...but you,” the Dark lady said over the endless patter of the icy rain
“...show potential - a little old perhaps,”

oh please make me hate you more Kiraea did not conceal her rage, allowing the Sith to sense the primal anger would only ingratiate Kiraea further.

“You may yet make a fitting apprentice….but you will need to offer further proof of your skills,”

The woman paced along the empty street looking for something to use.

“You have skill with a blade, but the force? Lift that bin as high as you can,”

Kiraea never took her eyes from the woman nor moved a muscle and it leviatated two meters holding firm.

“Good,” The Sith said “You’ve even broken the habit of hand waving - such a give away - using your mind alone,”

I never had that habit to begin with you disgusting bitch

It had taken nearly two weeks to find her, fortunately she was still on Kijmi - Kiraea suspected she lacked resources to leave with whatever credits Lucovis had once supplied long since running out.

The signal had been one of the clearer one, as Kiraea had approached,  Colm helpfully piloting ot let her focus on the signal, she had gradually made out precise if resonant words

...able to convince her I believe her crazed ideas and ingratiate myself as her new apprentice by killing the last one...she’s strong in the aether, but I'm Learning fast...soon I’ll be able to…

The message had been stored on a Kyber crystal, fashioned as close to possible in the form of a Triune Goddess Totem,  Kiraea had found it in a deep ravine, her and Colm having spent several hours digging through the mud to reach her buried body.

Wynaea, she had been barely Xani’s age when Kiraea knew her.  How she had come to Kijmi she would never know - only that at some point she determined the best way to keep herself safe and get off world was to take up the role of this Sith woman's apprentice and eventually kill her.

No doubt the Sith had been eager to take on an Aethan apprentice, probably thinking together they could destroy Lucovis. 

But the Sith woman had either discovered the duplicity or Wyni had underestimated her, and been killed on the outskirts of the city years before leaving only the pleading Kyber crystal behind in a broken saber clutched in the clawed hand of Wyni’s skeleton.

“What other abilities do you possess,” The Sith asked of her.

“Are you not meant to teach me Master?”Kiraea obfuscated

“hmmmm…” the Sith was no fool, but was caught between ambition at having a new powerful apprentice and caution at the familiar Force presence of this new aspirant.

If there was one thing Kiraea could always rely on, it was Outsiders wishing to exploit the People for their power and genetics, and that desire made them hesitate to strike.

“...but are you willing to learn…” Darth Vedana gazed at her with more discernment, the mind was closed to her - not unexpected indeed it saved time instructing how to do such - but the emotion was strange, inhumanly excessive in some ways, and bizarrely absent in others as if they were less felt emotions that mere physiological status.

She had felt such before...yes the young woman who had served her for three years, strong, a strange super-human species…

“Ah...now I see…” Vedana light her own saber

“You have come to avenge the other...are you her sister, mother? How trite….” Vedana sighed slowly stepping forward water up to her ankles as the rain continued, the drains long since clogged washing detritus back onto the streets exuding a wet mouldy smell.

“A true Sith has no use for the act of revenge, only the power it’s desire brings,”

Of course there could be situations where revenuge was obtained but only as a nice aside to another strategic goal - but such thinking was likely beyond this opponent.

Vedana took up a firm Ataru stance, knowing she would quickly shift to the defensive Soresu - she had come perilously close to defeat against the other of this species, underestimating the raw physical strength and speed even after so long under observation.  They attacked hard and fast at the outset, and then if they didn’t win played for time trusting in their Force and physical endurance to win - as such Vedana needed to play a careful strategy of deflecting the initial rush, then taking the win before she was worn down.

Kiraea could already sense this Sith was not as smart as she thought she was. Wyni had not been a fully trained Guardian with Mark 1 armour, if the Sith thought Kiraea was even twice the strength, she was underestimating severely.

Like black lighting, mid air drops of rain were split by the spinning Qixoni saber from Kiraea’s hand as four shikkar glass daggers sped just above the frothing water line aimed at the Siths ankles and knees.

Vedana spun her blad in tight arcs to deflect, shattering three of the daggers, a white flare as the two red blades met, the strength of the thrown Qixoni greater than she had anticipated as she pushed it off only to be met immediately by Kiraea’s twin swords.

The Sith was immediately on the defensive, then cried out as the fourth dagger hit just below the back of the knee, the hilt snapping off and the glass shattering as it had been enchanted into hundreds of tiny shards working through the calf muscle.

Drawing on the reserve of her hate and pride Vedana pushed against the kinetic attacks and fortified her mental barriers with the pain in her leg providing raw visceral energy to buffet away Kiraea’s metaphysical thorns.

If she thought she could exceed Kiraea with such emotional fuel she was sorely mistaken.

Kiraea need only hint at her own losses and those of her People that she carried to fuel a blaze of aetheric energy that doubled her previous level, battering the now flagging would be Sith further down.

Vedana’s guard remained up but it was weakening, her bones and ligaments were jarring with each mag-train like impact, her deflections narrowing to dangerously slim margins as the lightsaber flared a constant white from the ceaseless impacts.

Clearly a grade or two above her former traitorous apprentice she would have to show the breadth of her mastery of the Darkness.  Dipping into the endless black of the Dark side she drew forth the strength unlimited that creased her skin and yellowed her eyes as mere flesh struggled to contain such power.

Glass shards in her leg were thrust out, muscle and bone re-knit with twisted dark strength.

The battle flipped in an instant as Vedana struck back with waves of kinetic energy that mingled with pure horrifying dread enough to drive a typical humanoid psychology mad.

Hunched tight against cover Colm peeked round with a bulbous thrumming weapon, Kiraea suddenly buffeted back and under a barrage of blows that to him looked like a solid wall of saber red he poked out with the ungainly cannon and fired directly at the melee.

The Rad-cannon sent a burst of Gamma radiation at them both, an invisible barrage of intense shortwave length photonic energy.  Deadly to most sentients after prolonged exposure the focused beam would damage every cell in the Siths body simultaneously, Kiraea’s body even if not shielded by oblivion armour which blocked the majority, could absorb the majority of energy in radio-synthesis mitochondria that turned radiation to cellular energy, the few lengths not collected easily repaired by Aethan natural healing factors in a few days. 

The effect was immediate with Vedana sagging visibly, the cells were not destroyed nor rendered non functional, but hundreds of proteins, mRNA and hormones hit by intense wavelengths were split disrupting innumerable homeostatic systems at once.

Whatever her dark powers, they still needed a physical body to flow through.

Kiraea’s lips creased with irritation at the intervention.  The Sith’s outburst was strong, but not sustainable, even without the radiation blast Kiraea would’ve soon overpowered her or worn her down. Kiraea could draw from the same blackend realms of hate far deeper than the Sith had.

But now she hardly needed to, Vedana’s attack began to falter, the dark side waves halving in power as the Sith woman sought to repair her body's damaged proteins and DNA - but the dark side from which she drew could not restore, only rebind by weight of force.

Kiraea locked Vedana’s saber between her swords, cascaded aether flame down the blades and onto the Sith’s hands - Vedana tried to douse it with raw pain fuelled force energies, but Kiraea’s flames were born of pain - of her and her People’s losses - more pain generated power intensified them.

The flesh blackened and flaked off at the elbows, Vedana stared in confused terror - her last sight was an Aethan fist into her skull.

<<<<>>>>

“I didn’t need your help,” Kiraea hissed in the rain, Vedana’s body showing remarkable resilience as the dark side energies flowed out slowly keeping it in a form of life - it was no threat with a punch pulped brain incapable of transmitting any coherent commands to the flailing limbs

He knew from long experience there was no point arguing.

“Why did you do it anyone, who put you up to it,” she demanded, the rain soaking red hair flat against clear alabaster skin.

“Karintha and Valens...asked me to look out for you, said you were still recovering from something that hurt a lot,”

He could not lie or refuse a question, the intensity of her mind control so many years ago still sharp as ever in her presence.

She huffed, hands on hips staring at the slowly stilling Sith body.

“They worried this search...well...all we’ve found so far is bodies and revenge...would be hard on you,”

She couldn't deny that any gains on her own recovery were set back with each body found, any flare of the burning enthusiasm she was known for lost with each head she took in grim retribution

Kiraea was treading water, neither improving nor deteriorating so long as she was on this mission. How much worse if she didn’t have Colm for company and to deal with the more annoying aspects of outsider interaction.

“Well at least it saved some time,” she conceded of his intervention
“And proved that Rad-Cannon works…”
Kiraea could still feel the hyper activation of her radio-synthetic mitochondria generating an excess of sugars and oxygen spurred by the gamma rays, a few patches of Keritinocytes damaged on her epidermis but minimal easily repaired damage on lower skin cells.
“...but don’t use it too often,”

She headed over to collect the Sith’s saber and search the body for anything of value.

“So you all right then?” he asked uncertain

“Not yet…” she said, with a sneer tossing the now fully dead body into the flooded gutter.

“But we have a job to do...where to next?”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 02:02:48 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 10
(https://i.ibb.co/j44cSjS/Silenand-Screams2.png)
Ghosts of Nar Shadda

“A Place of pilgrimage,” Karintha’s voice barely above a whisper as she stood staring through the view screen at the black orb of a moon before her, the eternal night side surface speckled with artificial lights of yellow and white that twinkled in a sick joyful contrast to the vile scar that the Persephaea waded through to approach it.

Nar Shadda was and would always remain a monument to Aethan suffering, a place they could barely speak the name of for the conjured memories of the death and torments.

For Karintha that made it as important as any other commemorative site, it was part of the Peoples story. 

After the Devastation, while a substantial number, possibly around a quarter – of the slaver vessels had stopped at other points along the way to make quick sales without paying their Hutt masters percentage – the majority had been taken to enormous Slave markets on the blighted moon.

Here her culture had all but been extinguished, while she lay dead.

The surprisingly soft footsteps of Melron came behind her.

“A hard place to visit after a tough few weeks,” he said, voice holding the same gruffness she remembered as a child, but against all experiences since, had softened over time.

“All sufferings in one season,” she replied with the old saying, to get all the bad out of the way in one hit.

Since leaving Aethas they had chased down four signals. On two they found little more than faded echoes of People who had since moved on leaving no trace or clue as to where they went next. 

A more conclusive end had come on Clak'dor VII, more colloquially known as Bith.  The planet was mired in a civil war between the city states Nozho and Weogar over the rights of hyperdrive designs of all things.  In the wake of an exchange of biological weapons the Bith – physically weak and pathetic to Karintha’s eyes - had turned to offworld mercenaries to fight over the few ecosystems and sealed townships not utterly ruined by their bio-apocalypse.

Cutting in their stealth drives pushed to the limit while Kassyndra wove more conventional illusions of distraction the Tracer orb led them to a mushy swamp perpetually beneath a cloying pink-white mist left over from chem-weapons.

It was a graveyard of slowly sinking bodies from a dozen or more mercenary companies.  It took nearly six hours of hurling dirt that was more melted flesh than soil to find the body of an Aethan man, all but the bones dissolved by the toxic sludge, wearing the armour of the Alion Nova Guard Auxiliary – the true force made up according to Lyr’s intelligence only of Alion species member, other species were ‘recruited’ to fill roles the Alion could -or preferred - not to, in this case heavy weapons and cannon fodder.

That a mercenary company of such repute would employ an Aethan was unsurprising given their biological superiority, that he had fallen only two to three years before tragic and had affected Kassyndra greatly when she recognised the victim as Korys of the Mountain Village, a carpenter.  The older woman had pledged to investigate how Korys came to be a part of the Alion Guard when the opportunity arose.

The Final signal had found no body…but abundant evidence of how the Aethan woman had died. The planet of Kabal despite its vast forests and seas often suffered food shortages suitable for most sentients. 

How the woman came to the planet Karintha did not know, only that, given an Aethans requirement for far more nutrition than a human, she was forced to resort to stealing to survive, but was arrested, and, as an example to others by the brutal Oligarchy, burnt at the stake.

Incensed at the injustice, that an Aethan was punished for their hunger, Yorna had gone straight up to the responsible Oligarchs Estate, telekinetically levelled his guard with a wave of her hand, and put the rest to blue aetheric flames that Karintha suspected might still be burning. 

Like Kiraea, Yorna had complete assurance of her actions, and talent for aether fire, rather than pour energy out of herself, Yorna would provide the impetus and use the natural aetheric energy of the planet to keep the fire going – she was the spark, the background life energies dry grass. 

The Goddesses justice might be delayed, but it was never denied.

Nar Shadda seemed a deeper step into the dark.

“I want to understand, try to appreciate just how it felt…” Karintha explained to the old man.
“…as much as we can,”

Both of them had ‘missed’ that part of their Peoples experience.  Karintha and Yorna being dead, Melron on the Steppe far from the village when the attack came. Karintha saw how this was a benefit, she was not scarred by the same wounds, but she could not truly empathize with the others as a Matriarch should.  This stop over would help with that.

“The transports are almost ready, berths booked…” to come and go by choice seemed to Melron almost an insult to those taken there unwillingly never to return.

“Did you ever imagine we would be here, with all…” he gestured to the ship, the moon, Space itself

“This…metal boxes that ply the stars, giant slugs that control worlds of metal forests populated by tentacle headed goblins and snout faced trolls.”

“No…” she half chuckled “my life seemed so clear, the girls would grow up, marry, Taran and I would…”

The bitter absence of her husband cut quickly at her own offhand mention of his name…of all the signals still none from him…until he found his body she would never stop looking.

“…would have our own family, and then after Old Andis passed surrounded by his grandsons and their children I would take stewardship over the People…”

She at her own hand, covered by synthetic weaves embedded with micro-circuitry, delicate slivers of blackstone grafted on as armour for each joint of her fingers.

“A People that I fear no longer exist…”

Melron sensed a deeper unspoken disquiet in Karintha, always quick to understand and yet deep minded, ever since she was a child.

“Something else troubles you?”

“The first devastation destroyed us by shattering flesh and bone, scattering us across the stars…I fear a second is underway, one that will dissolve the Soul of the People.  The Younger ones have assimilated too much of outsider culture, using technology is not a passive action, it changes how we think and relate to the world…or rather galaxy…”

“You fear the People will dissolve by assimilating too many outsider ideas…” he surmised,
“Lose what makes us unique,” He knew to whom she was referring, Milaea, Aresaea, Lyaea, Taryn, those that had been so very young when exposed to the galaxy.

“That is one risk, the other…the middle aged could descend into purposeless slaughter, trying endlessly to Cleanse the Stars of outsiders.”

In that description he knew she meant Kiraea, Valens, Jarys and Selaena.

“We cannot ignore the outsiders, but nor can we destroy them, worse still would be to culturally integrate with them,” mere thought made Karintha’s skin crawl with disgust as she spoke
“If anyone can forge middle path,” Melron stepped closer to her supportively
“It’s you Kari,” he used her nickname, unheard since she was a teen
“The Goddesses brought you back to guide the People back to ourselves, I truly believe this,”

Buoyed by his confidence she turned to take his hand, not seeing the grief scarred age drawn features, but the hearty full face of the man who had told the best stories around the hearth when he visited.

A gentle chime sounded as the Chiss droids completed their pre-flight checks.

“Let us then continue on the path of better understanding what was lost so we know how to regain it,”

<<<<>>>>

Her heart squeezed with two conflicting desires.

The first was to turn and run from the echoes of trauma on the moon that was rising to meet her.

Yorna’s empathy for her People would not allow that.

The Second was to unleash a fiery hell upon the moon and Nal Hutta, the gluttonous blob of murky green behind it.

The limitations of her power and need to avoid excessive attention would not allow that either.

It left her stuck uncomfortably between fight and flight.  But she had at least those choices theoretically, those whose after image in the aether she followed did not.  The hopelessness of their plight scratched at the ever-present group mind of the three of them, Kassyndra having elected to remain on the ship rather than return to the moon on which both her daughters had died.

None of them could begrudge her that.  Kassyndra showed exceptional strength just to have agreed to Karrintha’s request to visit the system.

After visiting a dozen worlds now she was inured to the astonishment of traffic and the novelty of landing, their craft, her curiosity was more aroused by the diversity of different places, Nar Shadda was so different from Csilla in feel and form, towering hab blocks, ancient skyscrapers, much technology yes, but where the Chiss had precision, hygiene and order, Nar Shadda was muddle, mess and chaos.

They did not, as Karintha would otherwise insist, introduce themselves to the local Gods.  It was abundantly clear the Hutt Gods – Ardos and Evona – had set their bulbous eyes against the Aethans.

The buildings with their array of bolted on air filtration units or gaudy neon signs seem to have sprouted from the invisible ground deep below and accumulated whatever detritus flew past onto their durasteel shells.

They were accompanied on the trip by the jittery Twi’leki servan Lyr’Ca’Njo.  He had originally been sent here to provide on ground intel and support as a theatre expert at their next stop - Rorak V. 

As their ship glided toward the berth they had booked Yorna poked at the twi’leki
“You seem nervous, didn’t you used to live here?”

“Ah...yes that is...well there are a number of beings on Nar Shadda who might not be happy to see me return...a few people I still owe some credits to,” the twi’lek’s naturally green skin seemed to look ever more sickly.

“Don’t worry we won’t let anyone hurt you,” Yorna smiled
“You’re too helpful to us!”

Strangely that didn’t seem to comfort him, Yorna couldn’t understand why. Outsiders were indeed incomprehensible as Kiri said.

Armoured, but cowled in thick cloaks Lyr guided them along the edges of the wound in the People's heart to its source through pedestrian bridges, up turbolifts, along travelators to the raw wretched hole that was clean and brightly lit, a vast plaza between ten large skyscrapers, each leading into a different Hutt Clans premier slave market.

The plaza was thronged with thousands of beings, accosted at every turn by hawkers trying to attract them to lower priced offerings on lower levels, Weequay and Gamorrean guards either moving them along or taking a Credit chit handshake to let them stay- occasionally indifferently beating them if they didn’t pay enough.

What had once been the Market of Myzm the Hutt was now named for the inheritor of the Kajidic, Ozrym.

“That is the place…” Lyr squeaked pulling his cloak closer across his face
“If you don’t mind I might wait outside, I don’t wish to cause any complications should my presence upset the new owners,”

“Won’t they be happy to see an old friend,” Yona asked with utter sincerity

“Ah...former Major Domo’s of the previous Hutt master are not welcome guests...all the embezzlement and such found out after they leave….”

“You stole from your previous masters?” Karintha raised a brow

“Oh yes but they were terrible terrible Hutts, despotic slavers, it was an effort to….”

He wanted to say something noble, that he was ‘fighting the system from within’ by undermining the Hutts...but Valens decades long compulsion forced him to speak the truth.

“...earn enough money to get the hell off this dump and retire to Alderaan with a dozen twi’leki slave dancers.”

“Aren’t you glad we saved you from such a fate,” Karintha noted dryly

Leaving their uncomfortable guide to hide in a tap-caf the three Aethans moved through under a cloak of obliviousness, a technique learned from burrowing lice on Aethas that made the animal whose fur they inhabited ignore their presence even when touching or sniffing right at them.

It worked equally well on outsiders who could be staring at them and not see them at all.

Each step was harder than the last as they approached, the collective scream of the People etched into the metal of the building itself, and – unfortunately for the People – so congealed and compacted that it was impossible to flow walk and see precisely who was sold when and to whom.

Determined to understand, to bear witness, she pressed on.

<<<<>>>

Her finger gently held the trigger but did not pull it.

Kassyndra positioned the targeting reticule directly above the towering columns of durasteel that harboured the so called ‘markets’ where flesh was traded for small pieces of metal whose worth existed only in the minds of those who accepted the notion of currency.

A tiny button on the rear of the targeting stick allowed her to lock in six positions for the Oblivion Rods that would, if she pulled the trigger, jet through the atmosphere and strike them at a fearsome velocity. 

She could then add some Macro-Maser fire to a further six targets from orbit, it would in mere seconds level a substantial portion of Nar Shadda and coat the rest in dust and debris for decades. 

But for a mix of reasons, the main one being her People were down there Kassyndra held off.

Her granddaughter had said the furious desire to inflict revenge, even if indulged, left only emptiness in its wake. Kassyndra was not certain she fully agreed with Milaea but as she sat in the quiet she realised that whether she had pulled the trigger or not once the others left she would not have changed.

Billions would be killed, but the People would not benefit from it materially, it would only expose them to too much risk too soon from a Hutt reprisal.

“Another time…another place,” she pledged to herself.

<<<<>>>

Here amid rows of floor lit force cages that lined three levels of a display room, cylindrical cages dotted in the centre featuring ‘specials’, was the deepest of the wounds Karintha had sought.

The place had been changed, Ozrym evidently disliked the former décor and ‘refurbished it’ in the twenty five years since his nephew Myzm’s all too serendipitous death.  But no amount of plasteel and plaster could hide the aether.

She opened herself fully to the haunted echoes of her Peoples suffering it, let it infuse her, joined it as if it were a group mind still alive.  The voices were legion yet cried with one voice of despair, confusion, fear.

It threatened to overwhelm her, Yorna and Melron, but they had each other, they had the knowledge that the terror here was not the end, though broken, battered, bloodied and forever changed the People survived even if individuals did not.

Scant consolation for the ghostly presence, but it was all she could offer in exchange for the glimpse of devastation she received.

But what People had survived, the young osmotically absorbing outsider ways, the older trapped in cycles of destruction, building weapons less for defence than unbridled assault.

She had to bind them all, the pain, the hope, the lost, the found, if she were to lead them forward.

The cost to her would be great, but she could bear it with Melron, Yorna and the others' help, a Matriarch was nothing without those who held her up.

Firming in conviction with every moment she looked to doleful faces of the slaves behind the force cages. 

In that there was a lesson on the middle path she had to tread, as Jarys had realised earlier the young and hopeful – Milaea, Aresaea – could be placated with freeing them – the older and callous by using the slaves hate to forge them into an army and let ‘outsiders kill outsiders’.  As Adaea had found in melding Chiss technology with Ultradense minerals of Aethas.

That was the path she needed to steer the People along, reign in the outliers to a calmer controlled middle.

Her focus caressed the pained ghosts of Nar Shadda, settled them for just long enough.

<Yorna, now>

Melron appeared startled as Yorna produced the large Bloodstone orb concealed on her back, handing it to the older woman with ritualistic care. 

A modified version of the very Aura orbs Milaea and Aresaea had used to revive them both, the capacity a function of the orbs radius, at 20cm radius it had 18X the capacity of the 7.5 cm aura orb they had made under instructions from the future.

Accounting for the decay rate on the Aether repellent Nar Shadda it would be enough.

Karintha channelled her own compassion to drawn in the semi subdued haunted remnants into the Orb, pulling the scattered conscious shards into the Orb, while a wound in the aether would always remain they could free the pained sentience of it for proper burial on Aethas, the Orb would be place in a place of reflection and mourning, an eternal reminder of what was lost.

Her mind stretched out grasping gossamer threads and bundling weaving them into a rope to pull into the Orb as Melron now understanding stood guard, cloaking them both in a stronger miasma enchantment so the women could focus all their energy on the ‘recovery’ effort.

Her head and heart strained as she felt the burn of aetheric overuse, but she had to succeed, had to bring them back.

This filthy moon was not worthy of the Peoples Suffering.

Drawn to their People the semi-sentience settled in the Orb closing itself in the endless circular terrors.

Trembling from the effort Yorna moved to support her of the physical burden of carrying the orb feeling the ghostly echo in her mind at the mere touch.

The Exorcism was complete.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 19, 2021, 02:04:02 AM
Chapter 32 — Screams and Silence — Echoes — Part 11
Ghosts of Nar Shadda



Rejoining Lyr they were heading back through the thinning crowds as ‘Darker Night’ settled in on the shadowed moon - the brief two hour window most of the more ‘upmarket’ businesses closed temporarily for cleaning and ‘restocking’ with work crews of chealy employed labourers rushing about.

Yorna spied a column of armoured soldiers, they had no ‘thoughts’ or emotions like all the other sentients, just a bloody minded primal focus.  Lock step in five columns of ten they wore light sienna armours over what seemed ungainly muscled bodies, head pieces with multiple red glazed optical scanners that whirred with telescopic motion long then short.

All such visual information was irrelevant compared to the trace scents her olfactory senses, as precise as a Vorynx, of inimitable Aertemisin - the combat hormone that boosted Peoples already incredible strength, endurance and speed to new heights when in periods of combat stress.

And all of it was bleeding off two of the soldiers in the front rank.

Lyr noticing his masters had stopped followed the line of their stares.

“Oh Ciy’Keueketka, or just Ketka, unusual to see them off of Rorak, you’ll see plenty of them when we get there,”

“What are they,” Yorna asked

“Ciy’Keueketka, it’s huttese for ‘Pure Warriors’, ‘Unblemished’...slave soldiers made up mostly from runts off visiting ships and the sky-slums,”

“Runts - children like Taryn was,” Melron noted grimly

“The Flesh Crafters - the Pohna Kakea -  of Rorak take them or buy them and erm...enhance them...with cybernetics, psychosurgery and adrenal-gene therapy and constant training into perfectly obedient soldiers..no personality only precision they say. They sell them in ‘Kwamon’s’ - five hundreds as bodyguards or private armies, tough as barabel hide, and as expensive as Ithorian Teeth - but they only live fifteen or so years, the gene-crafitng and combat-stimms stress the bodies too much.”

Their eyes never left the front two bleeding an unnaturally vast amount of Aertemisin, traces wafting off the other 48 soldiers.

“They act as a kind of Police force on Rorak V, keeping the largest slave market in Hutt space nominally neutral ground between the Kajidic’s and even the independent operators with markets there, Pykes, Zygerrian Outcasts, Black Sun, even some Cor-Sec subsidiaries.”

“Those two are People,” Yorna said with no doubt of the two with the strongest scent in the front row.  Based on the Aertemisin she could smell though their bodies were producing a vast overabundance, their faces hidden largely behind durasteel cybernetics in the place of eyes, a blank solid plate of rounded ceramic-polymer where a mouth should be.

There was no question or doubt in Yorna’s mind as to what had to happen next.

“Ah My Lady might I suggest this is not the most auspicious place from which to ‘liberate’ one of the divine master race,” Lyr’s voice wavering as he looked around the crowded plaza and knowing from previous trips to Rorak he had never seen anyone live to face Ciy’Ketka twice.

“They’re heading to that building,” she pointed tracing their direction and pace
“What is that,”

“Besadii Kajidic Trading, one of the most heavily fortified buildings on...the...planet….” his voice slowed as he realised he had just given them information that made an abduction here seem even more a good idea.

<Aunty will you be alright?> Yorna asked quickly
<I will, I’ll clear an exit with Lyr,> she confirmed
<Then there’s no time to waste,> Melron added <We can’t let those People suffer one second longer,>

Karintha breaking off with a resigned Lyr,  Melron followed Yorna covering her back as they made straight for the Ciy’Ketka.

Both Aethans subtly let slip Shikkar’s floating and Implosion grenades rolling along the ground, cloaks thrown back to allow better access to their weapons as their minds effortlessly co-ordinated a strike and grab. 

They stood directly in the path of the Ciy’Ketka, the rest of the crowd leaving the ‘Pure Warriors’ a wide berth.

Ocular scanners zoomed in on the impediment to the ‘dokwacha’ - a unit of fifties - path.

“Remove Yourself,” the voice was not a voice, merely a digital modulation of orders for an impediment, perversely projected from speakers where the ears usually were.

Yorna truly looked at them. 

They had the bodies, however twisted by the Pohna Kakea, of People, but none of the soul or mind, only an instinctive Aetheric Callous the kind every child was born with that was a feature of the most primal parts of the Aethan brain, creating a shield of sorts from aetheric attack - although the absolute lack of cognition meant there was nothing to mentally attack. 
The entire main cortex was likely a virtual intelligence grafted into the absent brain cavity in an even more comprehensive way that poor Lydan had been.

<There is nothing left to save> she sighed sadly
<Only an abomination to destroy>

“Remove Your….” the second warning was ended not by the Aethans attack but the Ciy’Ketka’s rapid switch from marching stance to defensive as the advanced sonic sensory systems on formerly sullustan members detected the quiet roll of the implosion grenades. 

The dokwacha battle net assessed the threat emanated from the two impediments before them and attacked.

The Clash was rapid and explosive, caught with barely a moment to spare Yorna and Melron unleashed - Shikkar drove into gaps in armour, implosion grenade triggered - Ketka dove out of the way, or fired their enormous FWMB-39 Heavy repeaters - the Aethans were already moving Yorna’s twin swords finding the Aethan-Ketka was already blocking - their reflexes incredibly as fast as her own even enhanced with the aether - Melron likewise finding his target not a push over even as he used a telekinc wave to blast the other Ketka aside.

A handful of the crowd screamed and ran, but the majority indeed to the constant violence of Nar Shadda streets merely watched on.

The Gommoreans, Weequay and Klatooian guards merely ushering their guest away from the fire fight rather than intervening.

Karintha took aim with her bow and sent three arrows, each piercing into a head, but the thick armour prevented clean penetration. The grenades and shikkar had downed a further twelve in the opening attack, but the remaining thirty five were quickly surrounding the two Aethans.

<Kassyndra we might need a quick exit,> Yorna signalled, knowing it was asking much of her to come down here, but also there was likely no other way.  They couldn’t let this chance slip.

Yorna’s dual blades worked in a frenzied ballet leaving devastating blue fires in their wake corroding armour and weapons they touched, Melrons sword with its shatter-point enchantment cracked anything it touched - flesh or steel - open as it send precision energies to expand micro-fissures.

Even so they were vastly outnumbered, restoring to activating their own aetheric shields, Yorna a blue fire, Melron a Lighting - hers adding to the inferno of anything that touched her and absorbing blaster energy shot at deadly precision, his sparking arc to singe the flesh between cybertic grafts.

Hurling his blade into a chest Melron pulled his pistols slamming a dozen macro-maser shots into the chest plate before it cracked, Karintha switched to her own Hades rifle, the chiss tech based weapon shattering the personal shields but still struggling against the heavy armour - her only consolation was seven Ketka broke off to pursue her.

Yorna took the brunt of the melee from both Aethan Ketka, their strength as great as her own, she could smell the aertemisin output double in second to enhance it further.

But she had her own bio-weapon.  Weaving under the blades and blaster fire she unclasped the seal on her helmet squeezing pheromone glands in her mouth to hiss out a spray of Aephrodaesin, enough to knock a male out face to face the aerosol spread with an aetheric wind should turn them into compliant gobrils.

It had no effect - the Pohna Kakea had removed sensory and reproductive centres in the brain unnecessary for combat entirely leaving the pheromone with nothing to latch onto or neural systems to activate and her strategy in ruins.

<Uh-oh…>  rapidly reassessing her options she saw Melron hard pressed, the old man was strong, four more Ketka lay dead at his feet, another four meters away had its neck telekinetically snapped. 

She looked to Karintha crouching behind cover snapping shots with ehr pistols, the Hades rifle now a smoking makeshift explosive on a Ketka chest.

And finally to the Aethans she was trying to save...and the orb that held the ghosts of those that they could not. 

She had struck fast and hard before they could vaish behind the iron walls of the Besadii, it was not a rash decision but a Goddess given opportunity she would have to make work.

Her concern for her family, anger at the desecration of Aethan flesh and confidence in the Goddesses built into the charge she needed as she touched the Ghosts in the Orb.

Busting up she brought her swords through the spine of one of the Aethan ketka, shattering the armour and back as her fire shield collapsed into her.

Then Exploded out.

A wave of uncontrolled fire consuming metaphysical fuel of grief and loathing for outsiders spread from her on all sides like a bomb, flash melting durasteel components of the Ketka’s cybernetics into their bone.

Her eyes flashed blazing yellow tinged blue as she create compressed balls of aetheric fire inside the Ketka’s attacking Melron and Karintha’s chests, then released her telekinetic restraint to allow them to explode outward deflagrating their cores from within.

Now even the most calloused of the crowd were running as she gripped the nearby flailing Ketka and crushed the variegated boned and hardened inter-organ structures of different species into the softer key organs the Flesh Crafters had left.

The Aethan Ketka with their instinctive Aetheric shield rose staggering - even the one with spinal cord cut, redundant nervous connections taking over even if it couldn’t right itself properly.

The flame wave, not enough to break the aether resistant shield completely only drain it significantly, rapidly she moved on them, her feet and blades smashing apart every inch she could reach with triple the intensity even they could produce with their artificial hormone induced zenith.

Relieved Melron and Karintha took a vicious toll on the Ketka struggling with internal burns fuelled by the insatiable hate of Aethan ghosts that Yorna had lit, the ghosts power leveraging her incredible pyrokinetic abilities three fold.

The guards around the plaza now began to react - but in typical fashion for the divided Hutts they simply retreated behind the quickly shuttered doors of their Slave Emporiums content another Kajidic suffered instead of them.

A screeching humm signalled the unsafe approach of Kassyndra in a Karintha Class transport, the oldest woman breathed out with relief as she aimed the magnetic accelerator cannons on the Ketka unleashing phirk bolts designed to penetrate ship hulls expertly on ground trooper heavy armour with the expected flesh rending results.

Popping the back ramp of the transport Karintha grabbed Lyr and the Ghost orb, the irritation of fatigue not stopping her stride and leap inside as Melron covered Yorna.

The young woman's conflagration had cost her a lot, she couldn’t sustain it much more than a dozen seconds - all of which she used to telekinetically hurl the Aethan-Ketka into the craft.

<Go up sweetling!> Melon ordered as the dozen or so remaining Ketka continued to fire and rush on them, testament to the incredible work of the Flesh Crafters if they weren't killed outright they kept going.

Yorna jumped with a nod, Kassyndra now crouched on the ramp with a Macro maser Repeater, the heaviest of their Hades class weapons it was based on fixed position anti-infantry weapons on Chiss fortifications.  With a sneer she revved the barrels and unleashed on the moon that had been the sight of so much pain to her People, coving Melron’s escape seemingly secondary to punching holes in the Ketka and the plaza’s pavements.

Karintha by now was already lifting the ship off, they could collect the one they came in at a later time,the ramp closing with a hiss, Melron 'securing’ their passengers with anything he could get his hands on, Yorna coming down off the high phasing in and out of consciousness.

Kassyndra pushed to the cockpit, the seat beside Karintha was empty, all she had to do was jump in and in three second she could fire off all four of the ship’s torpedoes into the markets below….

Lyr coughed.

It reminded her that they’d already made a ‘scene’, but one that with a few bribes and tall tales through Lyrs networks could be passed off as a hit on a Kajidic’s Ciy’Ketka and more than likely result in just another round of internecine fighting between the Hutts...if she simply bombed the moon today the Hutts would look into it as a united force as they would know their enemy was a common one.

“Another time…” she reminded herself.

<<<<>>>>

It looked as if it had been designed to fit there.  The Large Bloodstone orb in the center of the Aetheric Nexus chamber on the Persephaea that insulates it’s potent effects from the People as they went about their daily tasks.

Even so Kassyndra found herself visiting it often as they travelled to the next location through hyperspace, in between her more grisly task.

Her own fears were in that Orb from when she had been on Nar Shadda...and...both her daughters.

There was a measure of comfort to know their pain was not, and now never would, be forgotten.

“We’re coming out soon,” Karintha whispered behind her, Kassyndra having hardly noticed she was there at all.

“Where do you think we should pace it when we return home?” the slightly taller Guardian asked

“The Catacombs seem fitting…” Kassyndra replied “...but perhaps its own place, beside or beneath the monument to the Devastation,” she referred to the large statue Milaea had carved shortly after escaping Ord Mirit and the Jedi’s gaze.

“Hopefully there those feelings will settle,”

Karintha nodded in agreement,

“Every year it will feel the coming and going of more and more recovered and newly born People, in time though its suffering won’t die, it will know we have survived and thrived,”

“I hope that is so,” Kassyndra replied with an edge of doubt
“We have come too far...and yet not far enough…”

Kassyndra summarised Karintha’s own feeling well, they had ships, weapons, abilities to exceed all but the most determined opponents, yet the People were still very much in a holding pattern, apart from a few sprouts - Lydan and his Herds, Maeson’s Orchards and Jenaea’s kilns, there was little recovery of their true way of living underway.

“The time will come,” Karintha reassured
“When we can place our swords upon the mantle and turn our arms to the scythe and plough,”

“But before we forget how to use them?” Kassyndra countered with reasoned worry the People would become ever more militarized.
“That...is what we of the older generation must make sure of.”

With a nod of agreement Karintha came a knelt beside her. 

Seeing to the emotional wellbeing of her People was alway the first task, now that was settled for the moment she could move onto the next topic.

“What did you find?” Karintha asked of Kassyndra’s macabre work on the Aethan-Ketka.  Kassyndra had undertaken the process largely alone making full use of the medical suite replete with chiss devices she had trained with during their induction for the first time.

“They are Aethan...but they are not People...not born on Aethas,” Kassyndra’s usually motherly tone adopted a hard edge as if instructing a recalcitrant child how to do their chores. 

“Their bones - they didn’t have teeth anymore - heavy metals have a different range of isotopes than are found from ingesting food on Aethas,”

“They were born offworld like Xanaea…”

“Born...is not the word...there is something wrong with their development, their brain cavities are small, distorted even accounting for the artificial aging they underwent,”

“How old?”

“Fourteen years,”

That was astonishing, each of the ‘men’ were as large as Jarys. The Flesh Crafters were clearly expats in their arts.

“Clones?”

Kassyndra shook her head.

“I don’t think so...they were born with abnormalities, and the genetic testing showed the same father, but two different mothers,”

A number of scenarios ran between the two women - each darker than the next building on Karintha’s growing understanding of outsider perversity.

“We were already set to investigate three signals emanating from Rorak next...the home of these Flesh Crafters and their sick progeny,” Karintha stood

“The Ciy’Ketka are too strong for us four to reckon with alone, I will summon the others to join us, Aethenaea grant us wisdom to discover the truth behind these abominations.” Karintha said rising

“Aertemisaea the strength…. and Aephrodaea the heart to destroy them,” Kassyndra finished darkly, eyes never leaving the Ghost Orb.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on May 21, 2021, 05:19:59 PM
The word "EPIC" comes to mind reading this chapter, not only in length but--more importantly--in content!

Seems that reality has once again caught up with our Aethans who are learning that not every rescue has a happy ending.  This is actually incredibly poignant, especially with a point that Karintha was contemplating: the ideological schism between the young (Mili, Ari, Yorna, etc.) and the elder (Valens, Jarys, Kiri, etc.) is not only polarizing from Traditional Aethan culture BUT also--and I think that it is important to underscore how each FAILURE during these rescues is adversely and severely affecting those who participate--against Outsiders as a whole.  Granted, the Aethans were already xenophobic and fixated upon PEOPLE: FIRST, LAST, & ONLY, but now those who had more moderate views are leaning towards the conservatism (OK, more like outright HATRED) that Kiraea and Janaea in particular are galvanizing into.  The question is: can Karintha help to moderate such trends?  And, even if she does, she is CERTAINLY disposed towards Aethan isolationism, just look at her critique of the "younger" members and how "dangerous" it is that they demonstrate an assimilated perspective.  As Matriarch, she WILL have to deal VERY carefully with this, especially since we know that such isolationism continues into the "current time."

A few items of (meta-)note: the disparate details of the different galactic cultures are wonderful!  LSG's encyclopedic knowledge really adds multiple layers that is a MORE than worthy addition to "A galaxy far, far away"  :)
I want to thank LSG for trusting me with part of this incredible story arc, the freedom to let the characters take us (The Reader) where they led, and his incredible suggestions for plot points!
OMG these posters are FANTASTIC!  One and all, they really add another layer to an already amazing narrative (and on a personal level: the poster for Ari, Taryn, & Mryaea could've come STRAIGHT from my mind!  THAT'S how good these are  8)

How do you follow this up?

If nothing else, I know that LSG WILL  ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 28, 2021, 12:14:28 AM
Chapter 33 — Screams and Silence — Absences — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/PYDvdkJ/Silenand-Screams4.png)
The Unknown Regions

Teeth gritted he squeezed the throat as his knees fought for purchase in the muddy ground.

The bearded Tof spat and cursed him from below, his enormous frame dwarfed Jarys own even in full armour.  The Tof, a patriarchal culture from somewhere beyond the unknown regions were a massive species that grew to 2.5 meters tall, over muscled to be strong as wookies, but far more rotund.  This made them physically just below and adult Aethan in strength.

A wet crack signalled the breaking of the neck bones and Jarys was instantly up to splash through the blue tinged mud fist first into the gut of another of the beasts trying to bring his blade down.

The Tof’s weakness was their lack of dexterity and limited speed.  Aethan genetic design integrated extraordinary strength with extreme flexibility and four times humanoid reflexes, boosted to eight times with the aether.

It allowed him to implode the creatures ribs, twist around, draw his sword and sever the legs of another at the knees, the top half of the body falling into the sloshing grime.

Valens was some twelve meters behind, his bow working like an auto cannon sending blackstone arrows into eyes, then telekinetically seeking hearts before teleporting back to be fired again.

The Tof had not expected a frontal attack, they trusted in their reputation and sheer massive bravado as a deterrent.

The Brothers had used that against them.

Their attack had begun with an overwhelming fusillade of Hades rifle fire on the Tofs outer barricades, bringing the whole lot of them into their second trap, a half dozen implosion grenades they had teleported into their midst.

The teleportation had cost their aetheric stamina dearly limiting further use for the time being -  but it was worth it to see the Tofs by the dozens twist inside out, water exploding from individual cells - viscera dripping pieces still hung from the gnarled leafless trees that peppered the mudflats under a back lit cloudy green sky.

Jarys sliced through more bodies as they lumbered too slow to get any hits in, the majority wore barely any armour, only the ‘leaders’ were coated in a thick heavy plate that looked like it had been hammered into a rough cuirass shape with rocks.

Their greatest risk was being surrounded, both men had taken a few wallops from the creatures, their Blackstone armour had resisted any damage from the lower density metal of the Tofs weapons, but the kinetic impact was still intense when both trunk like Tof arms were brought to bear.

The wretched planet barely had a name, only a designation for the Unknown Regions off the Relgium Run past Ord Thoden.  How a Tof Clan had gotten this close to the Republic they didn’t know nor care to understand.

The next wave lying dead the Brothers joined up in a half run as the ground firmed up, ahead were moss stained ruins of some dead civlization, the statues and already broken pillar toppled further by the Xenophobic Tof’s, replaced with their own weird Dryad and Nymph totems.

Their target was in the deeper half flooded ruins ahead, the Tof Patriarch.  Of the little intelligence even the Chiss had on the Tofs one key point was this, their long stellar crusades on vessels crammed with only males resulted in the Tofs displaying - in Chiss euphemism - ‘reckless lust’ toward any humanoid females, with female captives offered to the highest ranking Tofs first then…’passed down’.

The brothers had joined midway through the search of all the signals, splitting from the other groups to follow up on the worst of the screams and pleading that the Obelisk had uncovered all emanating from the ‘near’ Unknown Regions. 

From this planet had come only a primal hopeless piercing shriek, indisputably female. 

The sight of three Tof ships in orbit when they arrived - sparking on terminal orbital declines from the unannounced impact of Shikkar torpedoes into their engines - had explained the rest.

Vaulting the three meter wall they splashed onto the flooded stone courtyard where the Tofs made their neolithic abode, crude drawings on the walls, raw meat piled in corners, arcane rifles hastily grabbed to fire at the two Aethasn who moved in the dark shadows along opposite sides to divide attention, both with pistols out firing macro-maser shots from Hades pistols into torso’s, clearing out the weak before advancing in with swords.

Blackstone ate into slow flesh, the more senior Tof’s with better understanding of their comparative strength and weaknesses adopted firm guards limiting the brothers' advantages. 

Jarys doubled down with his primal anger to cut through their armour and limbs, Valens cold rage rounded the hulks and stabbed into gaps in the armour, the enchantments Sofa had imbued his sword with flashing lighting into the nervous systems of the victims causing them to stiffen as muscles contracted painfully.

This was what the brothers were made for.  They were the First, and the Last.  Jarys the First Brave, the champion of the People who would always be first into the battle to challenge the enemy Brave to single combat, a walking image of the implacable strength their opponents risked facing by not surrendering outright.

Valens was the Final Sanction, the God killer who strode through bodies broken by the People, himself fresh and uninjured, to drive home the final blades into the enemies battered forces, and take the enemy warchiefs head to offer to their Goddesses in thanks for victory.

With a rumbling bellow the Tof Patriarch entered flanked by his housecarls.

He was enormous, even for a Tof, 3 meters tall and at least 2 wide, a vast mace sparking with electrically charged spikes that would’ve weighed as much as a wookie resting lightly on his shoulder. His housecarls whilst shorter were equally as wide armed with various clubs and pikes.

His thick feet crunched the water covered stone beneath, amidst his water damaged algae ridden exuberant outfit were dozens of skulls.  None of this interested the brothers, his scent did.

Tofs did not - intentionally at least - bathe -instead coating themselves in heavy perfumes. 

While the majority encountered so far had stunk of nothing more than mouldy sweat and dried blood, through the miasma of stench and artificial fragrances the brothers Vorynx like olfactory senses spied the thin traces of Aethan pheromones - a failed attempt by a frightened woman to use her biology to control the brute that destroyed her.

Pulling his sword from a twitching body Jarys as always stepped up first.

The Tof grunted out something in its native language for which his helmet uni-trans had insufficient data to translate, apart rom garbled semantic predictions equating to Violent displeasure, cowardly barriers and imminent amputation

With a bitter grin Jarys detached his helmet in response to one of the vague interpretations, he wanted the last thing this creature saw to be an Aethan face taking the Goddesses Vengeance from it’s flesh.

With a war cry of his own Jarys charged in head long for the leader while Valens went for the Retinue of four.

The Patriarch was smart enough to know he had to rely on a strong defence against a faster opponent and determined to play the long game.  He underestimated Aethan stamina in that regard.

Jarys struck with flurries of four to six blows then retreated back, a hit and run tactic that wore down the Patriarchs armour and mace integrity as he took more and more chunk from it, micro aetheric fires from Kiraea’s enchantments upon Jarys sword further degrading the equipment.

But the swings of the Mace got closer, the Patriarch timing it to just after Jarys sequence had finished and he was slightly exposed moving backward. After three sequences of attack and retreat the patriarch stuck home.

The mace hit Jarys in the side with more strength than a charging gormin sending him skidding into the midst of Valens dicing with the pikes of the two remaining housecarls, The Patriarch rushed forward with surprising speed for his size slamming the mace down, Jarys rolling ot only take the blow on his upper right shoulder.

The sheer force penetrated the Mark 1 armour, lodging three electro spikes into his shoulder blade and upper back.

Rolling just in time to avoid a second blow he swung hastily to cleave into the mace, the Tof pulled in the opposite direction, the jammed weapons grinding as they splashed up more of the ubiquitous water.  Tension released as the sword slid free, but not without leaving aetheric fire burning the mace from the inside out.

Rising up Jarys slashed again, the heavy block revealing the fragility of the mace as it shattered open.

With a roar the Tof turned to durasteel knuckled fists arms like pistons driving at the far smaller frame of the Aethan.

What Jarys couldn’t avoid hit like a pneumatic hammer, his own sheer bulk as the largest Aethan and decades of intensive training keeping him from toppling as he worked for an open, finally catching a chance to throw his arms over a the Tof arm almost as thick as his torso, pulling in close to him and crushing the muscle, popping blood vessels and the bone within.

He allowed the Tof to pull the arm out to relentlessly strike at the weakened side, tearing chunks from plate, mail then flesh.

The Patriarch fought onto the last spitting and gnashing as repeated skewering’s proved insufficient to kill the enduring behemoth, Jarys resorting to simply kicking its gigantic skull in, the blood from the Tofs long since having turned the watery floor red.

<<<<>>>>

The Vagaari had a sick habit of using living shields - sentient beings trapped in transparisteel-like plastic bubbles and mounted on the outside of their ships hulls or carried on grav sleds as ‘mobile cover’

They believed it deterred attacks as anyone assaulting them could see the pained faces and hear the cries of those inside. 

The CEDF had special training course to inure their commandos, who engaged the Vagaari slaver empire of the Unknown regions, to the tactical necessities, even so many still required lifelong counselling after having ‘killed’ their own species to get at the Vagaari - sacrificing the few to save the many ringing hollow when it was the terrified faces of the few rather than the faceless many that haunted your dreams.

The Brothers had no such emphatic weaknesses.  Punching Hades rounds through the living cover meant no more to them than if it were made of blank dead durasteel.

Swarms of Schostri, tiny slightly translucent insects surrounded them trying to stab through the joints of their armour, the nomadic Vagaari utilized living weapons bred for purpose, similar to the Yuuzhan Vong, albeit not nearly to the same degree.

Having trained extensively with the Vong they were more than capable of ignoring the swarm, the Schostri were faster but far less impactful in their stings than Vong Thud bugs, lighting and fire shields deterred the majority as they pushed forward.

The entire city was occupied, the Nomad Vagaari typically occupied a world for a few months, stirpping it of slaves and resources before moving on, perhaps an echo of their own long distant occupation by the Rakattan Infinite Empire.

The natives of this world, tall thin humanoids who resembled Xexto but appeared to possess an imbalance number of limbs, three or five, were still fighting making their insertion onto the storm ravaged planet far easier

Using the traditional Aethan Veil of Mist techniques they had woven through the urban warfare that was shot down by a seemingly endless thunderstorm of ugly brown lighting on blakc clouds in the lower atmosphere, civilians fled as the native warriors fought a losing battle for each household, toward the main Vagaari lines.

The living shields broken through the brothers crouched behind a thick lightning rod tower - seemingly the method by which the natives had powered their civilization - and focused fire into the Vagaari - thor armour was adept at taking Charric hits, indeed the Wolvkils around their necks - long-snouted headed creatures with clawed forepaws - actively clawed over the Vagaari bodies with astounding speed to take any shot on their organ decentralized body, another layer of living defence.

The Hades weapons were based on Mega-Maser technology miniaturized into a weapon frame only slightly larger than average, never mass produced as they were found to be too heavy for Chiss commando’s to carry for protracted periods, the weight was a trifle in Aethan hands.

The extra impact struck the wolvkils harder than they expected, they survived only two shots instead of the regular four to five. By the time the Vagaari realised and tried to run they found their ankles telekinetically dragged back, ever silent they nonetheless clawed the mosaic footpaths to get away as the brothers advanced, idly stomping their heads in.

Wasting no time they broke into a run of nearly 80 kmph, avoiding Vagaari where they could as a black blur, leaping across ruined buildings and courtyards filled with dour looking natives waiting to be put into stasis for transit or taken to nearby mines to be worked to death.

With every moment the signal they had been tracing weakened, they shouldered through barricades, hurled lighting blasts into living shield walls, and aether flame blasts over their own body when a swarm of Schostri neared.

The crater where the Vagaari Mass hauler had landed was comprised of ruined buildings once ornate and tiles in mosaics.  They seemed to have landed directly on top of the native seat of government, the brown waters of the rain were mingled with sticky stasis fluids - they Vagair had landed without regard to the stasis pods full of living beings on the bottom of the ships hull - why should they they had just acquired millions more.

Jarys eyes scanned the vast wall of glassy blue pods that obscured the true shape of the vessel beneath. in each was a being, while a quarter or so were dead from starvation, the remaining three quarters were a mix of resignation, apathy and frantic rage.

He was only looking for one.

<There row 14 from the top, 53rd along the right>

Inside was a Person, flagging, dying from dehydration, Goddesses alone knew how long he had been in that pod.

<We’re coming> Jarys pushed out telepathically hoping to allay their fear.

There was no response, only hundreds of Vagaari around the ship who suddenly scrambled.

<What is….>

Screeches came from overhead as out of the roiling storm clouds above dart like ships with dozens of thin antenna plunged straight down, the metal protrusions dragging eddies of murky brown lit lighting with them.

Valens threw his arms out in desperation, Jarys tried to yanks the pod at a distance of over 600 meters to try and stop it. But there were too many and the impact too extreme. Valens knocked a few off course stopped two dead, but it only took one.

The natives suicide bomber hit the top of the Vagaari vessel, the lighting following it, smashing through the living shield wall and sending the atmospheres boiling energies through the whole of the Vagaari ship.  A secondary explosion indicated the dart ship must’ve been packed with explosives, and as three more hit more lighting wrecked the pods by the dozen.

The one of thousands they had wanted to save was among them.  A Person died.  Their pyre was an electrical storm of explosions and millions of pieces of shrapnel raining down as the natives continued ramming more and more ships into the by now utterly crippled Vagaari vessel.

The low wall they were crouched behind crumbled as Jarys punched it in bitter frustration. His fists clenching and kinetic focus still in the distance Valens simply slammed his failed telekinetic effort directly down, sending ever more blazing sparking fragments flying up.

It was nearly three hours before they reached their ships in the wilds outside the main cities. 

There was no consolation in the dozens of Vagaari they killed along the way, and no sense of adequate punishment for their failure in the wounds they took.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 28, 2021, 12:15:11 AM
Chapter 33 — Screams and Silence — Absences — Part 2

The ship was at a dead float off a half chartered hyperspace lane.

Over 500 meters long of unknown design they had done three fly pasts before boarding.  The engines and many sections along the hull were breached, but the curve of the shredded metal showed the explosions had come from inside the ship.

Their clinking boots maglocked to the exotic metal deck curve in strange undulating patterns as they paced through the vessels central corridor toward the only however marginal heat source.

Bodies floated crisp in the depth of space, humanoid but features were obscured by the ruptures caused by explosive decompression.

<I have a bad feeling about this…> Jarys noted as they paced ever deeper the trace orbs thrumming as it neared

It was clear they would not find anyone alive, but they might yet find a body.

They checked what few consoles they could as they went but none had power and appeared to be of a sufficiently different technological basis as to make connecting them to their own power cells difficult.

<This dust…> Valens noted his hand moving through a floating cloud of crackled dark grey hovering near what had been an atmosphere vent.
<It doesn't match the colour of any of the materials the ship seems to be made of…>

<some kind of gas or liquid fuel?> Jarys wondered, observing the mottled silver of the round thin columns.

<Perhaps> Valens replied uncertain approaching a large round blast door, the trace orb all but jumped from his hip to meet the source of the signal it sought.

Valens carefully inspected the door as Jarys watched his back.

<It was sealed from the inside…> he noted
<Stand back>

They went down five meters from the door positioning in cover as best they could rifles at the ready, the dull red glow of the Macro-maser energy primed.

<Now>  Valens ripped the door open with an adamantium aetheric grip.

A veritable tide of the dark grey dust puffed out with more bodies, their faces mummified in endless screams.  As they bounced off the pillars and roof their bodies creased in unnaturally as if they were nothing by bone and skin, all organs long since gone.

<What could do that>  it was clearly not natural exposure to void, Jarys asked even as Valens took tentative steps forward.

<We will soon find….> he stopped dead.

Shambling toward them in the dim blue glow front heir helmet lights was an Aethan woman, grey black ooze dripping from her eyes sockets, nose and ears, behind her a living throbbing wall of the grey ooze twisting into strange polyps that branched off into living pseudopods following her, others into branching cords that reached toward them. It’s own thermal heat kept it liquid in the ice of a dead floating space hulk for possibly a decade.

Whoever she had been, this woman was long since dead and infected by the ooze.

“I’m here…” its voice was a slick twisting of dead vocal cords over thin air
“Bring me home….”

Valens eidetic mind raced through the holo-perfect catalogue of different life forms he had read of in Chiss archives of the Unknown regions, only one fitted.

Mnggal-Mnggal - the shapeshifting, host taking super sentient being dispersed across countless tonnes of gray sludge like organic matter.  entire civilizations in the unknown regions had been wiped our, or subjected their own populaces to nuclear holocaust to stop the spread of the insidious living liquid that could fill a beings body consuming it from within to act as a host and spread to others in disguise.

He shared all he knew across he bond with his brother instantly, the critical piece of information was they must not be touched by the creatures natural form. Their armour wa well sealed, but the fluid creature could easily forge spike of its own body to try and pierce.

Gathering their strength rapidly both drew on the enchantments laced in their Oblivion armour plates.

Jarys armour flared with blue fire, Valens a slightly dimmer electrical crackle.

As was tradition a wife would enchant all her husbands weapons and armour, Jarys equipment naturally was infused with intensive Aetheric Fire capabilities in keeping with Kiraea’s expertise.

The darting Mggnal tendrils burnt and recoiled from the flames, but found more opening between the lighting Sofa had infused Valens armour with.

<Kill it!> Valens ordered, their fingers already on the triggers Macro-maser fire shredded the closer arms and faster pseudopods as the woman shambled forth with unnerving speed.

Relenting to the inevitable, and against every instinct in his body Valens fired direct at the woman, the maser fire searing through the hollow sack of skin lodging in the writhing ooze beneath.

The brother backed down the corridor keeping the fire constant, but the mggnal mggnal slipped around the edges along the walls and through hidden pipes and vents to lash at them from every side.

<RUN> hurling an implosion grenade Valens switching to firing with one hand, Jarys pulling his dagger to slash at the nearby tendrils the aetheric fire eating into them for a few seconds after each cut.

As fast as they retreated, as quick as they fired, as much energy as they poured into their shields more and more ooze seemed to seek them, awakened after so long drawn to their heat.

Giving up his rear fire Valens locked his rifle on his back and unleashed a torrent of aetheric fire behind him as a last ditch attempt to slow the creature.

Pursued they didn’t have the luxury of weaving carefully through the narrower sections of the corridors, instead merely shouldering them aside with aether powered tackles, Jrys bulk usually more than sufficient for Valens to slip through after.

It gave Valens a chance to dedicate one thought level to the controls of their transport, never more thankful for Adaea’s endless ingenuity he grabbed the blackstone core controls to guide the ship toward the end of the ship they had entered.

Jarys dagger never stopped moving taking the tips from the Mnggal-Mnggal feelers, Valens pistols risked overheating even in the cold of space from firing so repeatedly.  A last implosion grenade behind him was soaked up by what was now a living bubbling wall of Mnggal, a gurgling splurt as the bomb tried to twist the already formless creature inside out.

The exit was nearing but so were the pseudopods, the dead bodies they had passed before seeming to leer with the voice less invitation in their cold dry mouths to join them.

Jarys hurled a ball of pure kinetite ahead to slam the column and cracked metal ahead apart into a wide opening.  The Tof Patriarchs head on their ships prow a strangely welcome sight.

Reaching the edges they leapt to the side as Valens used his telekinetic control to fire the transports macro-maser cannons down the guts of the ship, the aether pushing them to fly off into space, then direct Valens to the hull, grasping the sleek plating as best he could before reaching out to his brother.

Jarys raised his hand not to grab Valens but to hurl a bolt of lighting straight at Valens back, blasting off a pseudopod into the frozen abyss.

Finally catching each other they bathed one another in aetheric fire and checked their suit seals even as Valens directed the transport on full reverse.

Quickly inside, frustrated, angered and messy they began the process of obliterating the derelict ship to the finest grains of dust their weapons would allow.

<<<<>>>>

Groaning metallic whines and heavy thumps announced the ship's silent binding.

They were lucky the Ebruchi pirates took most ships whole.

Their Karintha Class Transport was one of the most technologically advanced vessels the Chiss had ever produced for its size, Aethan biological tolerance for high levels of radiation meant it could feature power, cloaking, shields and weapons systems without onerous bulky rad-plating and EMR shields needed to protect less tolerant Chiss bodies which soaked up tonnage and power.

Against the vast majority of vessels in the Republic it was substantially superior. 

The reason the Chiss had to develop such advanced technology was because the predators in the Unknown regions like the Ebruchi were a match to them.

Caught in a ‘Flux Net’ an enormous intangible electro field spread access several hundred thousand square kilometers on safe hyperspace paths they’d been ripped out of the pseudo motion and their sensors blinded.

Only with the Aether did they sense the approaching Capture tugs.

Electron-cutters sliced down the thin edge of the ramp, taking nearly an hour to pop it open.

Muscular Tarro in thick flak armor tossed in stun grenades.  They were followed by four armed Morseerians.

One of the creatures peered at the two statues in the hold as they rest began systematically itemising everything in the ship.

Passing its scanner over the largest of the black statues the Morseerians blinked curiously behind its methane breather mask - there were vague indications of life signs but how could that…

Valens had jutte forward to grab the filthy creature's face and in a single exercise of his forearms muscles crush it inward. Simultaneously all of his co-species environmental suits ruptured under telekinetic blades leaving them gasping for methane.

The Tarro found themselves suspended inches front he deck their hearts pulped by kinetite fists

Jarys moved first striding straight out into the grimy cramped deck of the Pirate tug, straight into the path of six more Tarro who had detected their clansmens life signs suddenly spike then vanish.

They stared in momentary confusion as their armour lenses tried to adjust to the anti light of the Oblivion armour.

It was more time than Jarys needed to sweep his sword through the necks in one motion, and tug the rib cages of the rest apart with a clenched fist.

They had fought Eburchi and their numerous joiner races on behalf of the Chiss just before Taryn was rescued, they knew how they operated, and how best to kill them.

The tentacled face Ebruchi were a despicable multi-racial society, taking in any species as their own, using their unique gifts to their benefit, the Tarro as grunt troops, Morseerians as engineers and repair workers, Eickarie reptilians as scouts and snipers.

The tug was not large, the Ebruchi preferred a large number of smaller vessels in their raiding parties, within minutes their inexorable advance had depopulated the vessel and they were on the bridge surrounded by headless corpses. 

Valens worked quickly to unlatch the Flux-Net Ident Emitter of the tug so they could attach it to their own vessel and pass through the sector without further incident, Jarys just as technically focused prepared a parting gift for the Ebruchi fleet around them.

Transmission began to come in front of the other vessels asking for an update.

Valens followed the mental threads back in the aether and slurried their brains or filled their minds with vivid hallucinations sending them on murder sprees on their own vessels.

Jarys hit the tug’s huge external doors open and hurled with all his might the Proton torpedo core into the void, telekinetically guiding it as best as he could among the dozens of vessels for maximum effect.

<Done?> he asked Valens
<Done.> Valens confirmed as they strapped into their ships cockpits and jump started it, the Flux Signaller installed and transmitting.

A curious morseerian noticed the signal go offline then return front he tug mere second before the proton core was triggered by Jarys telekinetically.

A blue white blast struck the shields of a dozen vessels as the Tug seemed to explode from within, Valens blasting their way out, then as the Eburchi sensors were filled with radiation spikes from the explosion jumped to hyperspace, the brothers feeling only irritation at the delay.

<<<<>>>>

Some were barely the size of a thumb, others large as Grav-tanks.

All were vicious as they were feral.

The irradiated plains of the dead world were a flurry of activity for the first time in decades as cocooned Killiks awoke to the first sign of life on the planet since it had been subject to a nuclear rain that left it a pock marked lunar like landscape of deep craters filled with radioactive dusts.

Whatever war had plagued this world was long since over, the Killik Hive borken, its group mind collapsed beyond all repair by the genocide, leaving the scattered survivors -chitin dusty from malnourishment on the vast plains - crazed and primitive, drawn to the artificial light of the transport, and more so to the two living creatures it brought as the first source of non cannabilistic food in half a decade.

Back to back the brothers shredded through the seemingly endless splay of clanking claws and thin stabbing legs.

They swatted smaller ones into the dust, sent surged of lighting into the larger ones cores, sliced the bulbous heads off the humanoid sized ones.

What the nuclear bombing had started the aethans finished in three hours of slogging through the insect army, greatly assisted by the fact many so desperate for nourishment after their hibernation started consuming their own dead making them easy pickings for a Hades pistol shot to the thorax.

Skidding down the lip of one of the larger craters, a vast six legged insect leapt from a bump in the impact compacted glass soil, its gnashing fangs absent any toxins for lack of water - all flash boiled from underground aquifers long ago.

Catching their descent Jarys bashed a serrated pincer from his brother freeing Valens to cut at the join, thick ichor gurgling out.  More insects from the pits below, all showing signs of mutation from radiation exposure in bulbous cancerous growths rushed forward.  The large insect staggered slightly, Jarys blasted its tensing ‘arms’ back with a kinetic blast wrong footing it causing it to slip, its eight glassy eyes a clean target for his rifle.

Half standing they met the next throng headon, a wave of Hades fire thinned the ranks, a blast of lightning broke their center - their swords did the rest.

Finally at the base of the crater they dusted themselves off and marched on.  Both wondering when it all ended.

There was little in the crater but fragmentary pieces of whatever degenerate structures the killiks created, astounding in durability to have even survived in this devastated state.

Suit sensors detected what the men already felt, the radiation here was dangerous even for a species adapted to the deep cores extremes.  They had perhaps half an hour.

The tracking orb led them on a hard run to the rough center of the crater, the ground a cracked jagged glass.  It now guided them down.

With fist, rifle, and aether they tore at the knife like plates that had once been earth, uncovering the odd slurred piece of melted metals, calcium and carbon bubbles of what had likely once been organic matter.

A hole almost Jarys height was dug in a matter of minutes, nearly a tonne of debris telekinetically hurled to the side to find little more than an amalgam of what had been flesh and bone, tell tale heavy elements bled through it indicating the species with little doubt.

It explained the sudden piercing height then utter silence of the scream...an Aethan hit half a kilometre from a nuclear explosion, now reduced to a fragile brittle slab.

Three weeks in the Unknown regions pursuing seven signals without full sleep or rest. Over fifty hyperspace jumps to navigate the uncharted zones safely, dozens of Tof’s, hundreds of Killiks and a close escape from Mnggal-Mnggal….

And this was all they had found of any of the lost People from this side of the galaxy.

Jarys sunk to his knees, his weight cracking more of the glassed ground, and stared up at the cold orange sky from which nuclear fire had descended.

Who had launched the bombardment against the Killiks? How had a Person ended up with the Killiks? Were they a mind controlled Joiner? Had their death been a relief from the insects' nefarious influence? Or was the party responsible for this devastated world murderer of an Aethan that needed to be found and punished?

None of these questions could ever be answered.

Valens knelt beside him carefully collecting the remains, if so much compacted fragments could be called such, into a vac-canister.  Jarys took the canister to carry with him back to the ship.

Helping each other up they trudged back through the dead wastes, knowing their reward was another awakened horde of mad insects to cut through.

<<<<>>>>




Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 28, 2021, 12:18:12 AM
Chapter 33 — Screams and Silence — Absences — Part 3


Aresaea

There was nothing on Kubindi.

Only an hovel like abode in an abandoned Clan Cavern.  The Kubaz clan had died decades before amidst the internecine conflict over insect farms, the Aethan that had taken temporary residence here left at least five years ago and provided no trace as to where they went.

All that remained were trace scents quickly fading, and a lingering call for help thathad summoned them there.  There were signs of a struggle, blaster holes and cut marks in the rocky cave walls, but nothing else.

On a few scraps of dried insect wings which were used as a kind of paper by the Kubaz they did find notes in a simple cipher that were decided as chemical formulae associated with the purification of various radioactive elements - plutonium and uranium mostly.

“Odd that…” Taryn had mused given the planets lack of any of those elements or indeed mining technology necessary to extract such.

“...this must’ve been just a hide out…” Ari concluded

“But from whom and for whom…” she left unspoken her concerns an Aethan on the run was looking into chemistry necessary to create nuclear weapons.

There was only one other possible point of an interest for an Aethan on this world - the Silver Forest of Dreams.

While much of Kubindi’s surface was arid due to vegetation killing solar flares, a few forested regions remained beneath the cover of kilometer high trees with 20 meter wide leaves.  Said leaves were as thick and hard as tree trunks, shielding the tower ground from the solar flares allowing a small but diverse biosphere to exist.

It was also a reservoir of what Ari recognised the Vhal’Dan would term ‘dark side’ energies, a dichotomy she had never fully understood despite Kazics repeated attempts to explain it to her.

“A place of power,” she said as Taryn kept a keen eye out for any danger, specifically the enormous ‘Ghost spiders’ that were said to inhabit this place.

He could feel Ari was still sore from what had happened with Myri, and the frustrating lack of any other finds on their next two stops since - again finding themselves too late. But the nature here, the astonishing sight of giant silver trees seemed to pick her up a little.

“Yeah you could say that…”  He felt the waves of the aether, dark and sinister beckoning to him, as if inviting him to be drawn into them.  

But Taryn knew from the streets of Socorro - anyone offering you something sweet was just looking to treat you sour.

“I wish Milaea could see this…” she placed her hand on a silver tree trunk feeling the age and strength of it tremble.

Ari less cautious than Taryn, or perhaps more confident in her control of the Aether, stuck on an idea.

Taking out her small bloodstone link orb she drew on the energies of the Forest to enhance the connection strength rather than her own power.

Moments later Milaea’s voice came through

<Ari, is something wrong?>

<Mili, Hi, no just...well wanted to see how you were…>
<Fine, just on my way to the next signal>
<Well we’re ahead of schedule...haven’t found anything since…> Ari paused not wanting to deliver the news of Myri in any way but in person
<...we could join you, help you out before we link up with the others on the Shag Pobol>

There was a deliberate pause
<That’s OK, I’m too far away, you go on ahead,>
There was a strange evasiveness in Milaea’s tone
Ari instantly felt a sting of disappointment, perhaps she had misunderstood
<We’ve checked all the signals on our path, it's no trouble to divert, Taryn is an ace at getting the most out of the hyperdrive>
<It’s fine really, I need to do this alone...I’ll talk to you later…>
<but I didn’t even get to…>
The link went dead from the other end.
Already down Taryn sensed Ari plunging further as her ‘friend’ let her down.

“Something wrong?,” he asked

“...didn’t even get to show her the trees….” Ari finished to herself

“Mili need help?”

“No, she doesn’t seem to want it, said she had to do it herself,” with each word Ari’s tone tuned from confusion, to disappointment, to irritation

What possible reason could she have for going on her own when it is so dangerous out there

“Not to burst the ‘scorned lover bubble’, but it ain’t too safe round here…” Taryn’s eyes were up, noting a thin but incredibly strong line of spider web that had not been there moments before between two trees, a barely audible even to Aethan senses skittering high above.

“Nowhere is…” She replied sourly.

<<<<>>>>


(https://i.ibb.co/TD3Qc4F/Silenand-Screams3.png)

Oran

The old dusty pads spread like upward facing palms around the pillar-like column that represented the entrance to the mountain monastery, a plain rectangle carved into the stone native to the planet, glimmering a slight sliver in the full moon light.

Milaea stepped into the alpine air that was comparatively warm to the chill of Aethas even if the weather seemed the same.  The lighter gravity made her steps faster than normal even as she tried to slow to a ‘human’ pace.

She had ‘hired’ the ship she now clicked the remote lock on, the small hatch sealing the fifteen year old but eminently serviable Hapan Skipper.  

So far as she knew none of the Force Sensitives on this world were aware of her presence, despite a few mind tricks to obtain a transponder from Velabri en route.

The conversation with Ari played again in her mind, she hadn’t meant to be so short with her...it certainly wasn’t that she didn’t want to send time with Ari, rather it was in this particular situation...hard as it was to admit, she felt she couldn’t.

Her presence was kept ‘tiny’ and hidden, not closed completely but ‘dilute’ enough to pass as an average human.

She strode forward unarmed and unarmoured, her red leathers too heavy for the thin wind to lift.  A gust of air from inside the monastery carried the scent of age, old manuscripts and simple foods.

Genehanced eyes needed no time to adjust to the darker interior, something the monk in a simple dark grey robe and slippers waiting for her well understood.

He rose from the stone bench, like the vast majority of furniture here it was carved from the rock itself, and offered a bow of respect but not deference.

“I hope you haven’t waited long,” Milaea said, her voice echoing in the tall chamber, door ways a little too short for the average humanoid indicating they were carved for a less well nourished generation centuries past, lit by yellow lumens.

The Monk smiled at the potential double meaning with which he could take her statement.

“All in the Makers time,” he replied softly, voice more attuned to speaking without echo after years of practice. He raised his arm palm open to guide her.
“This way, I’ve prepared a reclusiam for your arrival…”  he paused to reassure her.
“None of the Brothers will see you come or leave,”

Contentedly she followed him though a slightly elongated path through access tunnels to avoid any chance of her being seen - largely unnecessary as the brothers were at their prayers in the nave, but the caution was appreciated.

Midway along the path she asked
“Do the Mak’tor know you are here?”
He shook his head beneath the cowl.
“The Force users, no, I only use my powers for healing and sparingly at that, I do not wish to bring...complications...to the Order of the Makers Mercy,”

The Reclusiam, a room for silent mediation usually devoid of any objects, had a small tray with water and foods laid out on a carpet on the floor and two durasteel reinforced chairs to cope with their greater than human density and weight.

“The most appetizing and filling foods we have available for our...needs,” the monk noted.

“Please sit, I’m sure you have questions,”

Milaea did so politely, the chair groaned a little under her unnatural weight.

The monk closed the heavy wooden door and sat opposite her at as respectful a distance as could be maintained in the small cell.

Pulling back his hood to reveal a ritually shaven head on the face all Aethan men shared by virtue of a limited gene-pool and genetic standardisation, he spoke.

“My name is Oran, son of Olaea and Krynan, Grandson of Ilaea and Karrina of the Golden Plains Village,” Oran began, Milaea noting the absence of the usual following statement ‘Their stories I carry with me’ regarding his ancestors and loved ones.

“Like...everyone...I was taken...sold as a curiosity, a pit fighter, a labourer and a dozen other things masters who held the remote that controlled the poison cell injected into me demanded.  Some years after I was taken I came across an outreach center on a chore for the current master, in a nearby system, the people there were willingly to help me, I didn’t trust them at first, but no one else had shown me any kindness for so long. I visited when I could, and curious asked why they cared for one that was not their People.”

His eyes lit with sadness and yet a hope at the memory.

“They told me of their belief in the Maker, of the love He holds for all living beings, how all are part of his plan however forgotten they might feel, that no pain is forever, and the compassionate balm of his mercy will touch us all…of course I didn’t believe it...but over a few months they provided me with more nutritious food.  

I saw their compassion as a weakness, but also an opportunity - I used the influence we can wield over other beings to ‘encourage’ them to purchase me.

They duly did so, removed the poison cell and offered to set me free.  Of course I had nowhere to go, and felt a deep obligation to repay them for their kindness, offering to work in another of their missions.  They agreed and as I worked I listened to more and more of the sermons, read more and more of their works and I began to understand, to truly comprehend what they preached they actually practised - that truly they followed he call of the Maker to help all those in need, to spread His word of compassion and love.

By and by I came to truly not just appreciate, but believe the truth of the Maker, to see His works in my own and others lives….and I felt, I knew, that was my path, to dedicate my life to the service of the Maker, to understand His ways and spread his mercy, to try and right this broken galaxy.

And so here I sit, with my brothers who study, write, and work with the poor and downtrodden of M’Tzigon, and the refugees they bring from all manner of worlds for resettlement.”

He clasped his hands quietly upon his lap.

“I called out to my lost brethren as best I could, telling them here was safety, truth and purpose, and now here you are,”

He sat silently and expectantly as Milaea processed his words, and shocked the sincerity with which he spoke in the aether.  He truly believed.  It was not mere adoption of outsider ways to survive, there was genuine conviction in him for this life on M’tzigon.

The world itself was the reason Milaea had come alone, she didn’t want to risk an incident with the Mak’tor, barely scraping by from last she heard, and rebuilding on this world.  There had been too much pain between them and her People already.  

“I’m Milaea, daughter of Cilina and Jarys, Granddaughter of Kassyndra, Lyssia and Old Andis, their stories I carry with me, affirmed Guardian by Karintha and Melron,”
Her reply and mention of  the names of the older guardians would leave Oran with no doubt she spoke with authority.
“I’ve come to take you back,”

“So Karintha and Melron survive?” Oran asked

“Along with others, given the danger faced by the People all are trained in the Guardian arts now, as it stand Valens leads as first among equals,”

“Valens...yes he was a few winters younger than me when...of course he would be a grown man as well by now,” Oran reflected on the passage of time without him.
“The People prosper, they are safe?”

“They are secure,” Milaea replied, prosperity and safety were not how she would describe their state
“And able to seek out other survivors such as yourself, to return them home,”

“I am glad to hear this, but I must disappoint you, this is my home now,” Oran said gently with a firmness in his aura as he gestured around the empty cell
“These are my brothers, my oath is sworn to the Order of the Makers Mercy, but if I can offer any assistance, we have medical supplies the M’tzigon government donates, some small amount of funds and assistance workers…”

He trailed off, her expression unconcealed told him she was not interested in that.

“Then you have truly - and willingly - forsaken the People, the Goddesses?” she quietly questioned

“I will always be Aethan,” he replied “But I understand now we are not the only People with dignity and sentience...I confess I once thought that, believed so strongly all other beings were beneath us, cruel but ultimately mindless tormentors, but I have learned a better Truth guided by the Maker...as to the Goddesses...”

His brow furrowed as he looked at his clasped hands

“None who have lived upon our world, witnessed the rituals and magicks, can deny the reality of their power - more than just the Force which I know other beings wield - but there is only one True God, that is the Maker. Those entities called Goddesses are powerful and exist in a way I do not understand, perhaps some of the Women do, but they are not deities as I now understand the meaning of that word, and not the true arbiters of morality and events in the universe, nor objects to be worshipped, only respected as equal to any of the Makers creations”

Had he spoken such words to any Aethan but Milaea and possibly Sofa, he would be severely punished, even Ari would’ve likely stripped his thoughts from him before he insulted the Goddesses more.  

Worse, the entirety of the congregation here would’ve been slaughtered for having played a role in his ‘brainwashing’, that would’ve undoubtedly drawn the Mak’tor...and then….

It was a painful reminder of why she had declined Ari’s quick offer to join her and not told her, or anyone where she was going, why she had kept the exact location of this signal to herself.

Milaea was coming to know Ari ever more…intimately...yet still...or perhaps because of that...Milaea knew she had to come here alone - just in case.

“Then you are truly lost,” was Milaea’s only eventual response.

“So I believed - but now am found by the Maker and the community who believe. Was blinded by ignorance, xenophobia, trauma and hatred, but now I see with compassion.” Oran replied with a trite paraphrase of a well known hymn.

“I wish the Aethan people no ill will, and am ready to support their recovery from the trauma’s I can only imagine they have suffered, far beyond even what I faced no doubt, but this is my home and I am committed to remain here,” Oran finished with an earnest tone that matched his expression.

“You know I can’t let you do that Oran,” she replied.
“For two reasons...the First...after what I have seen it is too dangerous for you, or any Aethan, to remain apart from the control of the People.  We’ve seen Tarasens body dug up and used by a sect called the Revenant to create ‘immortality’ treatments, cloned aethan children stolen and twisted with Sith alchemy, our advanced body parts harvested for sale, the kindest of Aethans drugged and forcefully experimented on to create slavish super soldiers...I’m sure the M’tzigon government, church, even the Mak’tor have no such designs upon you, but others will if they learn you are here, the second…”

She breathed deeply as she prepared to expound the true reason

“...No Aethan can leave the People, by external force, or internal choice. I am taking you back, and modifying the memory of all those present and any electronic records as far as possible to indicate you died in your sleep a week ago, given a natural burial atop the mountain nearby,”

Oran sighed his face pained
“I wish you understood how wrong that is, how imposing it is upon the Maker given free will of others!” he pleaded

“I understand, more than any of the People,” Milaea said without emotion on her face
“I know this is your choice, I respect it, but I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t understand, how can you respect my choice yet defy it,”

“I know the others will believe you are simply ill and help you ‘recover’ from your brainwashing, I know you will remember none of this and curse the followers of the Maker for deceiving you, spit on his symbols and rip up his books wherever you see them…who knows maybe you will be required to cull these brothers of yours as a final trial once your Guardian Training is done” she answered obliquely causing his face to fall pallid at the thought.

“And I know that none of that is right or good or just,” she said quietly

In an odd way he was the only one she could be fully honest with because she knew in mere minutes she would strip him of the memory of this conversation along with years of his life and the development of his beliefs and opinions.

Not so many years ago she would’ve felt the same moral outrage he did, now she was so used to transgressing those bounds, had seen how infinitely vast the grey areas were...she simply didn’t care.

“I’ve changed so many People and outsiders' memories, personalities...Taryn, Nyaea, Maekal, Yoda, Yshrrk…all for noble reasons, a view to helping the People, for the greater good...this is no different.  I won’t allow...” she finally rounded on his question

“...one of the People to remain lost when we are so few, to forsake your People and Goddesses for belief in a Maker which does not exist.  You are right the Goddesses are not ‘omni’ deities, for there isn’t one, much less one that cares or has any kind of plan for the lifeforms that inhabit a universe that is so vastly composed of empty uninhabitable space self perpetuating molecules we call life are obviously just a statistical anomaly. Gods are the beings we make in our own image, the Maker is the omnipotent fantasy of a little powerless man who died aeons ago. The Goddesses are tangible, that makes them infinitely more powerful,”

“You are wrong, in your beliefs and actions if you do this,” was his withering reply.

Her eyes flashed a quick red - an intensity he knew he could not resist, even had he not vowed pacifism, built in the lithe form before him.

“I speak as the Goddesses,” she finished
“I can only be Right.”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on May 28, 2021, 04:59:41 PM
And so our Aethan Cosmic Horror Stories continue...

From the enigmas of the Unknown Regions to the familiar of M'Tzigon, the People that were absconded with were sold far and wide.  Their enslavement was bad enough, but now we see just how much worse it could get: between the gargantuan Tof, the despicable Ebruchi, the hive-like Killik, and the Lovecraftian Mnggal-Mnggal, I can see just why the Chiss Ascendency is wary of their galactic neighbors.  I have to admit to a bit of catharsis when reading that Valens and Jarys were utterly ruthless in eliminating each respective threat (I think that director David Cronenberg could do LSG's writing credit with being able to translate the scenes in a visual medium, especially the Mnggal-Mnggal  ;)).

This is juxtaposed against the burgeoning intimacy between Ari and Mili against the sorrowful backdrop of failure after failure (not that any of that can be laid at our Aethans' feet; they are as much the victims as those that they are attempting to rescue).  As with all developing "new love," there are definitely some growing pains as they both try to navigate their situations while still trying to maintain some semblance of happiness.  I certainly feel for Ari but can see why Mili wouldn't want any of the others around...

I think that Mili's mission is one of the worst as well as the best: the fact that Oran is a true believer is immaterial compared to the proliferation of the People (they'll need to numbers if they ever hope to recover) BUT to do so at such a horrendous cost...

THIS is what conflict SHOULD elicit!

Very, VERY few things are ever "black and white;" with different iterations of grays, shades of black, tints of white, and all of the colors across the spectrum, there will always be hard decisions with those who lose more than those that gain. 

All of these incidents are leading inextricably towards a hardened, galvanized People. 

And that's not necessarily a good thing...

Galactically speaking  ;)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 31, 2021, 12:15:26 AM
Chapter 34 — Screams and Silence — Nemesis —  Part 1

 
Arrys

(https://i.ibb.co/30HJG3Q/Twins-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/30HJG3Q)(https://i.ibb.co/qsZdgNd/K-31.jpg) (https://ibb.co/qsZdgNd)

“...and then what do we say?” Kiraea asked standing unnervingly close behind Maekal

“And I apologise most of all to you Evaea for my presumption and uncouth actions in attempting to impress my qualities as a suitor upon you, despite my utter lack of such…I recognise my failure and will be sure to correct it”

After the incident at the mine Lydan had summoned the nearest elder Guardian which happened to be Kiraea.  He knew this was an issue he couldn’t solve himself, Maekal was incapable of hearing reason or respecting anything other than sheer power.

After hearing what had happened Kiraea had taken Maekal into one of the Aetheric Nexus chambers - for three hours - undoubtedly he had the fear of the Goddesses put into him for risking their lives and now stood contrite with a pallid face and jittery eyes.

Evaea stared somewhat indifferent, never having been apologised to before, something Kiraea, despite her annoyance at the diversion from her own hunts, found interesting.

“I...accept...on condition you do not repeat such foolishness,” the younger woman said

“That’ll do,” Kiraea concluded
“Now go do something useful, clean the reactor vents or something,”

“They shall be pristine, second only to the radiance of my Lady Evaea’ countenance!” Maekal jumped up enthused at the task.

“Whatever,” Kiraea rolled her eyes idly wondering if he even knew what a reactor vent was.

<Colm keep an eye on him, I don’t want an ionization reactor leaking…> she pressed into the human’s mind.

Kiraea had a far more pressing task to complete, and the Aether Nexi on the Aephrodaea from which Lydan and Sofa’s teams were operating, the latter chasing a lead on Denon in a Karintha transport, would save her some time.

Lydan went about his preparations for the next mission, Evaea and Evyn stood slightly uncertain - so used to being given direction from Sensei they found a lack of specific orders unnerving - Kiraea’s presence doubly so.

They were trained to show no fear response, a lesson made easier for the fact Aethan biology lacked any exetenailsed expressions of distress or danger, all shifts in hormonal balances were kept subtle to ensure an overall unphased demeanour.

Said hormones coursed through the Twins now. Despite Kiraea’s nominal forgiveness they had not spent much time together, mainly due to the rapid travel to Csilla for induction.   Neither Evyn nor Evaea were socially adept, there was simply no need for such in Sensei’s service.

The tension was not lost on Kiraea, she disliked it, but didn’t know how better to repair it.
“Kiri,” Colm called from the door
“Maybe the twins can help you out with the list,” he suggested - the friction was obvious even to a ‘lesser being’ such as himself -and part of his task looking out for Kiraea while she recovered had to be her social health as well.

She was already here to set one of the younger ones straight, with a sigh she relented to sorting this out while she was here.

“Alright,” Kiraea finally said taking a roll of flimsi from her pocket, blood stains from the Bothan she and Colm had…’spoken with’..in her hand.

It listed the former members of a Raider Vessel, the Heran Slaughter.

The ship was long since a ruin, floating dead in a ship graveyard above Bracca pending being dumped on the planet and stripped for parts.

What they had found after ‘negotiating’ access was the bowels of the vessel, the stinking once heated mess of oil and power cells, was still populated with the slaves that had worked the ungainly machines, loading cannons by hand and manually venting gases from the engines.

All said slaves were dead, forgotten about when the ship was abandoned by the Raider crew - who escaped on fighters - to die of asphyxiation until vultures tugged the ship to Bracca.

Among the bodies was one Person who had called out to his Goddesses in his last moments as he died alone, waiting what must’ve been a horrible eighteen hours - the maximum an Aethan could go without oxygen - to die.

Arrys had been chained to the floor, legs cut off at the knees, half healed brands of a repeat escapee on his face and back, forced to load the same three cannons for Goddesses knew how many years till the Raiders were boarded themselves.

It was the raiders who had mutilated, enslaved, then abandoned Arrys she would kill, but they were too dispersed now according to their intel bought off the Bothan Spy net to get to in a timely manner on her own.

“Time to set those assassin skills to work,” Kiraea released the list and flew it to them telekinetically.   

Evyn caught the list gingerly and read a list of over two dozen names, species and last known locations, the stamp of a well reputed mid-rim private investigation service at the bottom.

“We will eliminate all these targets as rapidly as possible,” Evaea said, instantly scanning over the document, eager to prove herself to their new family even further.
“What ship shall we…”

“Ship!” Kiraea laughed

“We’ll hunt these sacs of dren, but not physically,” she tumbed backward to the Aether Nexus

“We’re using this.”

<<<<<>>>>

Heran Slaughter <> Raid <> Weequa <> Dos’Ferro <> 15,000 credits <> Captain Yogan <> 5 years

The mantra was repeated as a kind of filter through the enormity of the galaxy as he sought the mind of one individual among trillions, the Bloodstone Nexus facilitating the hunt.

It was an unstable thing, Evyn felt he was a child again trying to balance upon a brittle plank atop a warbling mulch-ball, the slightest misstep of his own aetheric weight and he would plunge into the infinite depths.

Harder Kiraea insisted.

He could feel her mind on his as a restrained repressure, she clearly didn’t want to touch the mind of the one who had plunged a dagger in her stomach with openness, so guided with a closed gloved fist.

Possible minds blinkered out as he narrowed the search  for the long lost raider light years distant.  Such a method of hunting, if it proved efficacious, was extraordinarily more efficient than physical pursuit.  What would Sensei make of such a serenely hidden approach

<Stay focused> Kiraea snapped irritated at his remembrance of the filth that had abducted them.

The process also irritated her - usually cursing a being at such a distance was accomplished by obtaining a sample of their blood, hair or flesh, giving a direct link to their aetheric aura. With only names and brief details to go on this process felt too cerebral for Kiraea's liking, she wanted to blood her hands around the throat of these creatures.

Evyn could feel the frustrated bloodlust boiling from Kiraea, and couldn’t help but wonder how much of it might be aimed at him, even as he narrowed his filtering of souls to a single light.

He caught snappy images of the Weequays present, shuffling about with a gamey left leg from an old wound, carrying hubba bulbs in a reed woven bag to his small adobe where he lived with the family he had built after retiring from the pirate life with a small bounty enough for a decent home and some investments on Sriluur.

<Kill him> Kiraea ordered

Evyn used the power of the obelisks to channel his power across the galaxy on the narrowest of silken strands, wrapping it around the critical arteries and squeezing them shut.

Dos’Ferro stumbled, clutched at his chest and dropped his bundle.

Kiraea sneered

<Too clean, You next> Kiraea directed to Evaea as Evyn breathed out heavily.

Nexus certainly made making a connection easier, but projecting telekinesis across quarter a galaxy could never be without serious strain.

Determined to prove her competence Evaea reached out immediately, clinically and swiftly cutting down false positive, learning from her brothers mistakes, her naturally  stronger aetheric limit also assisting.

She grabbed at the Yinchorri currently piloting a speeder far too small for his size and turned her telekinetic energy into a razor thin blade to slice its prefrontal cortex apart, rendering it brain dead instantly.  Evaea released the connection immediately, the sensation of fatigue as she returned fully to her body shocking.

<Try again,> Kiraea sniffed unimpressed.

The next Evyn took out was a Rodian, the fourth a Twi’leki Evaea dispatched as efficiently as possible using the extensive knowledge of different species anatomy an assassin must possess.

But by now both were trembling from the intensity of the aether flowing through them in a weird state of heightened arousal and coma inducing fatigue. 

<You’re letting them off too easy> Kiraea remonstrated
<Try again later when you’ve rested,>

<No We can do this!> Evaea insisted seeking out the next target despite her tingling skin and the burn behind her eyes.

They were getting better at finding the targets Kiraea had to admit, and two targets in half an hour was exceptional - given the level of energy needed even Kiraea would struggle with three, four only if she was utterly enraged. 

An Ikotchi making a moderate trade as a balck market dealer of ident scrubbed blasters on Corellia felt nothing but a sudden blackness overtake him as he slammed face first into his own credit register.

Evaea was now gasping, her hands shaking.  To her confusion Kiraea was still displeased with her performance.

Hadn’t she found the target, ended them rapidly?
<But where is the passion!> Kiraea snapped at the twins thoughts.
<You’re good at culling but not at killing...you need to hate>
The twins were too professional and cold, it limited their power

<Let me show you>

Far faster than either twin had Kiraea locked onto a gruff Nagai-Human hybrid in the midst of a firefight, she had never given up the pirate life and was doing quite well for herself.

That stopped as her mouth felt dry...then her hands...then her nose…

The heat bubbled and boiled away the moisture in her body as Kiraea slew the enemy of the People at a distance of half a galaxy.

<You need to hate> Kiraea instructed
<The technique you use isn’t the problem, it's the lack of conviction,>

The Nagai-Hybrid fell to the floor, ash seeping between armour plates as her crew stared in confused panic.

She looked at the exhausted twins with every sense searching for the key to unlock the anger that was the key to getting them to a hormonal arousal state of Aephrodaea’s Vengeance.

Kiraea knew first hand the twins were deadly combatants, clear minded and precise - but they could be so much more so with the surge of strength and aetheric capacity such a state would bring.

“You need to look at every outsider as the filthy, despicable mass of unworthy flesh they are, each a vector of disease to be purged from or sight, each and everyone sharing equally in the irremovable stain of guilt for what they did to us! What they did to Arrys, legs cut, skin branded. Just. Because. He. Was. People!” she preached with the fire of rage bubbling once more in her breast.

Evaea bowed her head in contrition
“We will increase our efforts,”

Kiraea sneered
“Dump the dutiful disciple dren, you’re a woman of the People, you bow to no one,”
The older Aethan relented a little seeing how hard the demonstration was cutting her, determined not to be like their filthy Anzat master.
 
“You want to try again, go for it,”
Kiraea was more than anything else simply curious to see if they could manage a third.

Determined not to fail, the Twins joined forces in their effortless bond seeking out the next mind a Kadas'sa'Nikto - green Nikto - old and hoary now with long facial horns still working as a Hutt enforcer, but relieved his days of being on a vessel were behind him, now with the far more comfortable job of a Hutt Palace Guard, keeping out the riff raff with the odd pole butt, and zaping kowakian lizards in the granaries and aquariums that stored his masters abundant supplies of food.

Fatigue was not a visceral experience to Aethans, it was a mere awareness of exceeding normative limits, the Twins could ignore it as they had so often before, the ebb and flow of power between them ensuring they didn’t lose the tenuous connection.

Once more they went straight for the critical organs.

<Don’t think of it like some target,> Kiraea broke into the stream
<Think of the moment you felt your supposed ‘father’ about to ram his proboscis into your brain, how you felt when you realized you meant nothing more to him than the last husk he bloodily penetrated then threw into the depths!>

Evaea’s heart squeezing increased, the dissonance between her belief in Sensei as father and the inarguable fact of his true intent for her unable to be glossed over any longer - drained with the connection she lacked the mental strength to maintain the facade she had been propping ever since Dypseth.

<How it felt to see your sister about to have her essence ripped from her, that bond since you embraced in the womb together severed by the one you trusted the most>

Evyn had tried for his sister's sake not to think badly across their bond of Sensei...but the feelings couldn’t be hidden, his sister was everything to him, anything that threatened that was an enemy.

The Nikto’s face in their mind seemed to twist into the leering hungry face of their Sensei, his proboscis firm to crack through bone into the brain cavity as they had seen so many times before - but this time it was aimed at them - It Always Had Been! they finally realized.

Neuro-Chemical thresholds were breached and a flood of Aertemisin thrust their bodies into a higher arousal state, deading the sense of fatigue as their metabolism entered a higher gear, the burn of aetheric stress lessened as their overall absorptive and expressive capacity increased by a fifth.

They imagined facing their traitor Sensei, gripping his face and shearing off the feeder tentacles, shredding off the limbs so he couldn't move toward them as they lay injured and beaten by Jarys who had only been trying to save them.

On the resort world of Lirra in Hutt Space this manifested as a Nikto’s face being inexplicable torn from the skull, arms and legs ripped in all directions by invisible hands, and a whooshing air wrecking ball slamming the torso into the wall crushing every bone and organ into a slurry.

As the crackling energies about them died down the Twins felt something they rarely, if indeed truly ever, felt from their Anzat mentor beam off Kiraea.

Something they wanted to experience again.

Pride.

<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 31, 2021, 12:18:30 AM
Chapter 34 — Screams and Silence — Nemesis — Part 2

(https://i.ibb.co/Nt91Wby/Silence-Screma-Nemesis.png)

The Flesh Crafters

“You have in. Much lubrication required, but you get in…so long as credit check good…”
Feek…or perhaps Reek was  better term informed them…

Lyr had ‘employed’ Feeks services as a fellow with ‘auditoires to the ground’ who was an expert in ‘lubricating’ their passage through Rorark V, on the aetherically compelled advice of the hustlers whom he had ‘made friends’ with running a protection racket at the lower docking bays ensuring no one ‘scratched’ their ship.

Yorna again tried to discern Feek’s species, he- or possibly she given the androgynous features seemed to be a ‘Zeltron’ with splotchy white patches, or a ‘Nagai’ with red patches and exuded a particularly pungent odour of alcohol, bodily fluids and cheap perfume that had been out in the sun for a number of days.

Either way it was just one of many fascinating things there was not time for her to investigate further.

“Satisfactory” Lyr slapped a 500 credit chit in Feeks hand, the creature quickly scuttling backward

“That will be all ‘massa...Feek dislikes being in the upper levels for long, the Ciy'Keueketka and Feek have...disagreements,”

Feek’s eyes glanced to the thickly armour plated guards patrolling the refined wide avenue promenade. 

The official police force of Rorak V, the floating city, the largest slave market in Hutt space, the Ciy’Keueketka were indeed as ubiquitous as Lyr had warned them.  Unlike Nar Shadda this was neutral territory and the Ketka kept it that way. 

The ‘riff raff’ were kept to designated nodules of the conglomerate space station that orbited Rorak IV, credit chit checks were required to access the more exclusive areas by ‘depositing’ a large sum, the process of regaining a deposit so deliberately complex it was no worth the effort for 1000 credits per ‘zone’

Regardless Lyr had saved them a bit of money and a lot of time with his incomparable skill to know just what type of scum sniffer to obtain the services of.

It was a fascinating study in outsider to outsider relations for Yorna - upon landing a small group had approached their berth claiming they would ‘keep theship safe’ for them for a small fee of 20 credits a day.

“And prevent it being mag locked to the floor…” Lyr had sneered, his experience on the station invaluable to them,
He gave the protection racket goons squad, a motley assembly of creatures wearing rebreathers and barely concealed slug guns, 200 credits and asked for a lead on the best ‘Lubricator’ on the station. 

They had directed them to a tap-cafe nearby, all the while they were followed not discreetly by Ketka checking they had no violent intent, there they put in a call for ‘Feek’ who arrived two hours later, Yorna taking the time to investigate the full range of music on the Selectophone...discovering she disliked Hutt Opera which sounded more like gargling vomit than words.

Accompanied only by Kassyndra and two Cloaked Extolled they made their way up the levels via the ‘smooth rear entry’ as Feek termed it, every one of Feek’s words seeming to have a troubling double meaning.

They arrived before the annex to Flesh Crafters vast module two hours and 8000 credits later.

Rorak V had not been centrally planned, much had been bolted on with dubious heed to the space stations overall integrity, one of the largest modules was that of the Pohna Kakea, the Flesh Crafters - more like a ship than a Platform, it was a vast hexagonal thing linked to the most exclusive of the Markets by a well guarded, armoured tunnel.

This particular region looked like an upmarket shopping district the kind Sofa usually liked, albeit with wider doors for Hutt bodies it seemed the aetheric stench of shuddering slave fear put her off.  Vast tree lined walkways, numerous shops, with gaudy huttese neon lights, and innumerable mobile droids showing hollows of ‘product’ were lit from the raw stars that gazed down beneath an atmosphere tight shimmer shield - an eternal night sky.

Explicit larger than life holo-picts of ‘product’ abounded.  The abundance of Twi’leki women in particular shown in excruciating detail with prices beneath was intriguing for Yorna, clearly the client's favour the tentacle headed things, purple ones in particular based on the prices.

Ari and Milaea, Yorna thought - would not like that - like Kiraea she couldn’t empathize with Outsiders no matter their suffering - but she did empathize with Ari who would find it too reminiscent of her adoptive mother.

Lyr inspected the ‘Invitation Card’ Feek had given him, a dollop of a whitish fluid of some kind even Yorna’s curiosity baulked at delving into glistening on it.

“Run along Feek,” Lyr said with a sigh tossing him and extra 100 credit chit, one of Lyr’s first lessons was on places such as this you could never ‘lubricate’ enough, but the best beings to get the favour of were rarely the ones in charge, rather the ones in the know.

“I suppose we just head on in…” Lyr noted dryly as Yorna deep into the building to sniff out the traces of life and connection in tune with the signals. 

They knew the signals from Rorak were old, like so many before they feared finding nothing more than rumours, dust and fragmentary records, but as they had approached Rorak they had discovered what they thought were three signals were in fact eight distorted by distance till then, all their tracer orbs pulling to this place.

Combined with the revelation of Aethan Ketka on Nar Shadda something twinkled deep in Yorna’s perceptions, something alive.

“I think there are People in there…” she said
“But something is wrong...like alive but...held….” she couldn’t articulate the sensation in words and share it across their mental link

“Stasis,” Kassyndra diagnosed
“Like Nyaea…”

“Obviously they must be rescued, but might I suggest we not get into a fight with an entire station filled thousands of the most dangerous soldiers Hutt Slavery produces?” Lyr added

“No promises…” Yorna smiled viciously in a way that allowed Lyr to finally see she was indeed Kiraea’s sister.

Approaching the counter before the tunnel the Ketka on patrol, faces obscured beneath a wall of metal cybernetics took the invitation card and presented a portable Chit reader to check their transaction limit and obtain a 6000 credit 'deposit’ entry fee.

“Weapons,” the ketkas metal voice grated, presenting a large box.

Expecting such on Lyr’s advice they had come lightly armed, Yorna and Kassyndra only placing in their daggers and shikkars which even the bulging artificially stimulated Ketka muscles struggled to lift.

“Armour,” It enquired next.

“Ah it's not armour,” Lyr gestured to the women
“It is in fact a highly advanced pressurized suit necessary for my employer's species to avoid their skin splitting in the lower gas pressure of standard humanoid conditions.”

At his preening best the Ketka simply scanned their visitors.  The Chiss micro-circuitry and blackstone plating at best resulted in [Indeterminate Function] and [Unknown Substance] results on the scans, algorithms in the Ketka’s cybernetic neural cortex fell back on situational parameters - the Visitors had not engaged in any violent actions, had cleared the Credit check and presented a valid identification card, and the explanation for their outfit was designated [Plausible].

“Pass,”

<<<<>>>>

“Welcome I am Tssena, Customer Relations and will assist you in negotiations on behalf of the honoured Masters.”

The Devoronian woman sported a thick cybernetic head band around a bald red skinned head.  She was one of half a dozen such creatures standing silently in a line behind the desk at the main counter inside the Ketka module itself.

Lyr began an eloquent explanation of their interest in purchasing four Kwamon for their cover firm Aertemis Industries currently establishing a presence on Fresia and intended to explore mining opportunities in the deep core.

Yorna merely stared deeper and deeper into the facility, the closer she looked the more detail she observed.

<At least nine...maybe eleven, twelve> her eyes narrowed as she sought the traces of her People barely alive deep in the station.

“...now obviously we would like a further demonstration of your products capabilities…” Lyr continued his flair for oleaginous conversation sadly lost on the cyborg attendant.
“...We recently heard of a dokwacha wiped out on Nar shadda in what I believe was an inter Kajidic clash,” he continued without a hint of irony for the fact it had been his own masters that had destroyed them - albeit only barely.

“Reports of the incident on Nar Shadda are inaccurate, only 32 Ciy'Keueketka were rendered inoperable, the surprise attack was launched against the Besadii Kajidic by Klatooinian separatists.”

Lyr felt a gush of inward relief the Hutts had misattributed the attack, mostly as it re-validated his value in making dozens of rushed calls and spending several hundred thousand credits to ‘influencers’ and ‘Faux news’ channels on the holonet to spread the misinformation to cover his masters tracks.

“I knew it, so much fake news these days, but please lead us on,”
They passed through long walkways with transparisteel walls that overlooked the Ketka’s training and armament rooms.  Each was a vast almost blindingly white cube filled with the unclothed creatures of all species - the vast majority male humanoids with overly enhanced musculature, metal implants all across the torso and head, servo joints like those seen on power armour bolted to their arm and leg joints.

Kassyndra could gauge a fairly accurate count of numbers based on life signs, just over 3500.

Tssena would stop at each large window repeating by rote a programmed sales pitch explaining the training or procedure undertaken beneath.  Some rooms were filled with technicians performing gene-therapy or cybernetic implants on fully conscious but blank-faced teens with bodies that put a voursus to shame for size.

In one of the surgery rooms where nearly 50 stations were occupied by blank Ketka being pumped with a watery pink substance one of them collapsed convulsing on the floor throwing up blood.

Two regular Ketka’s pulled the creature up and hauled it away.

“All those that do not accept the Treatments are recycled into nutrients,” Tssena explained

Lyr suppressed bile at the back of his throat

“That ensures the best quality no doubt...but it also must raise the price with a high failure rate,”

Tseena mde a mechanical nod, as if her expressions were programmed as much as the Ketka below on the other side their heads plugged into virtual Reality Psycho-surgical implantation systems for training.

“Correct, 34 per cent of inductees complete full Treatment. The Ciy'Keueketka are thus the pinnacle of quality.”

“And where do you source these inductees?” Kassyndra asked, the surgeries performed on the awake beings tingling her to almost feel some sympathy for the outsiders. 

She had come with Yorna as she had taken extra medical courses with the Chiss during their induction, making her best placed to understand exactly what was being done to the victims of the Flesh Crafters.  From what she had seen it was in essence a blunt force accelerated growth and hyper stimulant programme glitzed up with fancy equipment.

It was what the Black Sun had attempted with Lydan on a semi industrial scale - or rather Black Sun had been attempting to develop their own counter programme with Lydan the prototype

“The Vast majority are purchased from the markets of Rorak after undergoing preliminary screening, special lineages are bred on site in our nurseries,”

Something twisted sickly in Kassyndra’s stomachs, a sensation Yorna felt in the ricochet in the mind link as a number of the more disturbing scenarios to explain the signals, Aethan Ketka, and now suppressed Aethan presence nearby became more probable.

“And what special lineages might they be?”

“We have a number of bespoke lines designed to counteract specific ‘impediments’ and ‘environments’, Red-Morgukai for arid locales, Iridonian for horde forces, Stage 9- Metahumans to counter Jedi like opponents, Ferroans for additional longevity,”

Lyr seized on that point
“Jedi you say, we would be very interested in the stage 9 Metahumans, do you have many in stock,”

Lights blinked on Tseena’s headpiece
“Fourteen currently, priced at 450,000 credits each, 5.2 million for the full squad,”

“And are they bred on site,” Kassyndra asked mouth increasingly dry

“Affirmative,”

Yorna was already quickly reaching into the Devoronians mind, finding it a twisted hole ridden thing, no doubt due to the aether dead cybernetic substitutions for natural cognition making any kind of mental influence she could exert marginal at best.

“Can we see these units and the progenitors?” Lyr asked
“You may observe the units, all breeding stock are located in staff only areas,”
They followed wordlessly above the vast training and surgical platforms, past ranks of Ciy'Keueketka standing to attention in ‘Rejuvenation’ cells all but dead to the world.

They reached what appeared to be a wide open showroom with different lines on display, prices and vital statistics listed below, including kill ratios of previous generations and enhancements made since.

And there amidst the line up were three Aethans, two female one male, though the distinction was minimal given the excessive androgens they have been subjected to leaving all three with overly thick facial bones and blocky features.

Again the scent of Aertemisin was overpowering, all with the same cybernetic stimulus implants the ones on Nar Shadda had.

To fill the void Lyr began to make small talk on the various lines with Tseena, Yorna slowly approached the statue like figures with Kassyndra, the statistics flicking on a holographic display as they approached.

Their eyes fixed on a key piece of information - the Inductee success and production rates
[73 per cent Success - 34 Inductees 25 Completed. 11 Sold. >>>>]
[Production Limited. 6 Female Carriers - Gestation time 12 Months, success of fertilization and Carrying to term 65 per cent.  No Refunds on failed fertilization or Treatment, recommend purchase Bio-Variant failure Insurance 7000 credits>>>>]

34...the number in cool holographic blue fired in their minds.  34 Aethan children forcibly bred to become these abominations, 9 of which had ‘failed’ and been disposed of as swiftly as those they had seen earlier to become ‘nutrients’ for the others. 

6 Aethan women somewhere in this facility being made to produce offspring on order, most likely as many males as well.

Lyr had said the Hutts often gave preferential treatment to the Flesh Crafters, the most likely scenario was one of their sick agents had discerned the potential of the Aethan captives after the devastation and used the strange leverage the Pohna Kakea held to purchase a number of ‘fertile’ units before they went on open market at Myzm’s.

Yorna heeded her Aunts teaching and kept her anger in check for the moment.

“Can we speak directly with the Flesh Crafters,” she said voice trembling even as she stood firm
“I have a message to deliver to them,”

Tseena glanced uncertain at her and walked over, Lyr surreptitiously looking for cover - he knew what was coming next.

As the Devoronian reached her Yorna unclasped her helmet in a calculated move to get the true Pohna Kakea’s attention.

Facial recognition software and organic particle filters rapidly found similarities between Yorna and their Metahuman line.  The Pohna Kakea had long sought additional units, the detection of such instantly triggered an alert to them.

Tseena’s eyes turned a sickening yellow as they were lit from behind showing the full extent of her cybernetic augmentation. 

Her mouth moved but no words left, instead it came from the cybernetic headband.

“We hear You,  We Anticipated This Possibility” the Devoronian spoke as a conduit for her hidden masters.

“Then hear me well,” Yorna said firmly her own eyes glowing a mix of yellow and blue 
“You have transgressed against the People, children of the Three Goddesses of Aethas, there can be neither forgiveness nor conciliation, you and all those that have assisted you will die, your creations will be destroyed. You have this one moment to choose to surrender to a painless death. Thus speaks the Goddess Aertemisaea-Nemesis-Erinys-Praxidikai,”

The epithets of Opponent-Implacable Fury-Justice Exacter signified the aspect of the Goddess she summoned forth in herself.

A sick long droning laugh typical of hutts echoed from the Devoronians mouth, her face twisted in the self assured egotism of the slovenly race to think two women and a cowering Twi’leki would come to challenge them in their stronghold. 

They would make an excellent addition to the breeding stock - once knowledge of the rest of their incredible species location was extracted.

Yorna accepted that monotonous gross chuckle as their response.

The Ciy'Keueketka reached for their weapons, reflexes three times faster than humanoid standard just as it said on their stat pages, getting faster as their hormonal overdrives were triggered through the cyber-network.

Kassyndra raised a shield of lighting and kinetite around her while Yorna pulled Lyr into their protective bubble.

The Goddess of the Hunt and Vengeance drove like a knife into the Flesh Crafters Lair.

<<<<>>>>




Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 31, 2021, 12:21:19 AM
Chapter 34 — Screams and Silence — Nemesis — Part 3

Erinys

(https://i.ibb.co/JcNtmmJ/RorakRam.jpg)

Blotting out the near stars of Hutt space a bulky grey hauler went from repulsor locked float to minimal acceleration - not under engine power but telekinetic push.

The stygium cloaking system had been pushed to its limits to expand its suppressive field over the Zygerrian Slave Hauler Queens Leash. This had ensured it went undetected at a dangerously unsafe proximity to one of Rorak’s larger modules, the unique method of propulsion meant there were now power surges to detect.

Captured by Lyaea, Selaena and Adaea weeks before in their search for Xaraea they had given the slaves on board to a nearby Sons cell, but they couldn’t use the vessel as it was too well known to the Zygerrians in the sector and too large for the cell to staff.

Precise measurements had been taken to perform exacting estimates of the velocity needed to drive the hull with sufficient moment to overcome modules outer doonium shear strength and plunge as close to the barracks as possible while not damaging the Hauler too much.

For there was a double trick - within the Hauler itself was the Aertemisaea.  Burrowing Extolled Chuk'a had hollowed out the vessel enough for the triangular ship to fit ensuring the attack looked like a Zygerrian suicide run.

While the Zygerrians and Hutts largely operate across different galactic territories, as Lyr noted, it couldn't hurt to spark some antipathy between them and cover the People's attack..

The Aertemisaea, pushing the Queens Leash from within under Taryns experienced hands plunging like a dagger into the long side of the Flesh Crafters Module, the initial impact rocking the connection to the larger Rorak platform only minimally as the doonium buckled and cracked.

In the nexus chambers within the Aethan ship the full collection of Aethan forces poured shatterpoint energy into the Bloodstone receivers that channeled through the hull itself which spread the energy at each point of friction with the Module causing a chain reaction along the micro fissures shattering sections all around as it ploughed on.

This was Space Naval Ramming done right, precisely controlled to cripple and avoid explosive decompression, the gases hissing out along the jagged wounded edges.

Karintha had known the Flesh Crafters would never surrender, the only question had been learning where they held People for their despicable experiments. 

That answered, she had implemented her plan at the signals of Yorna’s flare of power. 

It relied on every member of the People with her performing their role in perfect cooperation and coordination - which she would provide by becoming the Nexus through which the group mind was guided.  It would diminish her on ground combat effectiveness due to the mental load, but it assured her plan would succeed and her role as leader was strengthened by success at last.

At the 30 metre mark Taryn twisted the telekinetic propulsion granted by his People ever so slightly to spin the vessel like a gentle drill bit boring out more of the module and opening a wider region to space. 

Dozens of Ciy'Keueketka and staff vainly trying to grip to weakening columns began to fly out or experience fatal lung expansions.

As the Aertemsiaea turned it exposed its lower hangar bay, out of which leapt dozens of Extolled warriors in  Vonduun Skerr Kyrric with gnullith breathers to survive the void, followed by their Avatar Masters who propelled them into the shattered heart of the Flesh Crafters Module.

Armed Ketka’s responded immediately with salvos of fire, safe behind their void capable heavy plate. 

Blaster bolts mingled into a frenzied churn with the jagged metal debris.

From the other side came thud-bugs and Oblivion arrows in a brutal frenetic exchange to gain a landing inside the venting station.

In the show room the Ketka flew into the walls less from the collision that Yorna’s flick or yellow righteous rage, their armour prevented the worst damage, but could not keep out her signature Aetheric Flame Bombs - concentrated parcels of Punishment teleported inside the Ketka’s bodies that exploded outward when she released the kinetic case that held them in check causing an Aether based fire to spread tough their organs.

Only the Aethan-Ketka primal resistance to any such attacks kept them relatively safe,

The Aethan forces advanced quickly, using their arrows and telekinetic grips to slow the Ketka while the Extolled took them in melee trusting their Voduun armour to take the brunt of the balster fire as they got in range.

Lyaea, Adaea and Selaena were the first to split off toward the ‘Nurseries’, following Lydan who charged like a Vobison through the emergency blast doors that tried to contain the damage.

He shouldered Ketka over with his aether enhanced bulk and speed, leaving them to the women of his family to finish off.  His armour was riddled with divots and scratches within minutes from the elite soldiers, but he didn’t stop his forward momentum, didn’t dare look at the Ketka that were all to similar to what the Outsiders had tried to make him for more time than necessary to ram them to the ground or into a wall.   

Karintha, Taryn, Sofa and Ari headed with a dozen Extolled deep toward the main barracks, the tall former pirate carrying a Shikkar Torpedo on his back.

Sofa and Ari’s saber work bounced bolts back into Kekta armour by the dozen as they stomped through the ruins of a lab cube, now a shattered transparisteel sea of floating liquid combat stimms and dead technicians, Karintha with grim resolve came through between them firing her Hades pistols till they were out of charge then switched to her sword trusting its shatterpoint enchantments to cleave through the heavy plate and cybernetically modified flesh beneath.

Protecting their exit Jenaea and Maeson fired off waves of Hades Repeater shots at anything not Extolled that came near them, the Ketka specialised assassin divisions nearly took them from behind, until countered by their own Extolled stealth specialists in Cloaks of Nuun.

“Keep up boy,” Melron insisted as Maekal struggled to get a Kekta off his throat restoring to firing point blank Hades shots into its chest as they made their way to Yorna and Kassyndra by passing the Ketka as best they could while hurling Implosion grenades along the side of their path blowing out more walls and keeping the super soldiers at bay.

With an outstretched hand Melron tore the door open to find the two women waiting in a inconclusive hand to hand tussle with the two Aethan Ketka - tossing them their weapons turned the tide instantly, Yorna skewering and Kassyndra decapitating the abominations.

<I need to get to the nurseries,> Kasyndra instructed Melron, he looked briefly at Yorna who, rearmed, was already heading out on her own path, yellow and blue light flickering from her whole body.

<I will assist Lady Yorna,> Maekal insisted, desiring to be close to the divine energies as possible and sensing a momentous battle of which he must surely be a part.

<You’ll get Lyr back to the ship,> the Old Man countered firmly <Safely and unharmed,>

Maekals mouth moved to complain, but recalling Kiraea’s ‘instruction’ with what a laser species would’ve felt as a shudder, he glumly moved to the Twi’leki, catching a shimmer shield rebreather from Melron to place on him
“Come tentacle headed gremlin,”

A series of rumbles and the death of all light signalled the second phase of Karintha’s attack was complete.  Kiraea and the Twins had snuck out of the ship with the first wave, using their Cloak of Shadow ability and the general chaos to remain undetected through the panicked staff and arming Ketka. 

Reaching the Power core they shut down the entire system, then tossed implosion grenades into the main generators damaged them beyond all repair.  Now freed from their first objective their second was to split up and provide shadowed blades into the backs of all the Ketka engaging the other People.

Before they parted Kiraea grabbed them both and pulled them to her,
<Show me how quickly you can kill outsider filth>

Buoyed by her confidence they vanished into the haze of increasingly twisted corridors and collapsed sections where floor and ceiling were no longer relevant distinctions.

<Here!> Lydan called as his Naginata thrust through a Ketka torso lifting it off the ground and hurling the body over his shoulder.

They’d reached the Nursery doors, but his armour was utterly ruined, his left leg bleeding, and right shoulder dislocated from crashing through solid durasteel a dozen times.

One last flourish he grabbed the seam between the doors and with all the strength he could tore it open.

A flurry of blaster fire struck him full on, sending him onto his back, dragged to the side by his sister's telekinetic grip as his mother and wife fired back.

In the centre of the station the main barracks were now alive with the clockwork march of Ketka boots. 

The collision had killed dozens in the labs - but only those in sections dedicated to repair and experimentation. The bulk of the station guard patrols were engaged with the attackers, taking significant damage from the unique bio-tech weaponry of the Extolled combined seamlessly with Aethan powers to deny them a fight on any of the more conventional terms the Ketka excelled at.

Nearly two thousand remained, now out of their regeneration pods, armed and armoured.

Karintha’s team neared the barracks, the corridors far wider and flanked with rails for hover sleds to allow more rapid movement of the troops.
<Taryn if you would>

Hefting off the void warfare capable Shikkar torpedo from his back he popped the side hatch and checked his hot wiring.

<Get to the sides> he said, jumping with Karintha to the left, Ari and Sofa on the right.

An install later the torpedo flare on, the phirk drill head whirring to life as he lifted it off the floor telekinetically
<In three...two…>

The torpedoes jet engine blared to life and sent it forward at incredible speed, the ultradense drill head eating into the door ahead like it was gormin cheese, and tearing through an entire rank of Kekta behind it.  It didn’t stop, moving in a roughly straight line through the barracks, puncturing walls and mincing any Ketka who couldn’t get out of its path.

Sofa and Ari moved to the doorway and put up as heavy a kinetic shield as they could mere seconds before the torpedo's proton core detonated.

The Entire station shook once more as its centre was turned to blue-white fire.  The Proton core had been de-powered for a smaller blast radius of merely 125 meters...plus or minus…

The ‘plus’ now whooshed against them as they kept the the blast contained as much as possible with the aether for a year long three seconds before the white flare turned to sprinkles of molten metal and ashen flesh, a vast empty whole surrounded by wavering structural beams where the First section barracks had been. 

It had wiped out 400 or so, and the rest now had to take a very long way round to get to them. 
 
Riding over the shockwaves that buckled the floor Melron and Kassyndra reached the nursery adding much needed extra fire-power to Selaena’s advance.  She had seen no sign of any infants or parents, just rows and rows of strange looking thick shelve units as she fought through the Ketka guards sniper rifle in one hand, the other loose firing lighting that crackled through their armour gaps.

The Older pair charged past Lyaea and Adaea whose arrows were less effective against the Ketka armour, their Hades rifles forcing the Ketka into cover before these were holstered on their back and their words out.

The Ketka poked out of cover just in time to have their weapons barrels cut in two and their heads kicked in by furious Aethans.

<Anything?> Kassyndra asked, she could feel the thread of Aethan life Yorna had picked up on...but it was diffuse...all around her

<Nothing obvious> Selaena replied as Melron chased down the last two Ketka, well knowing more would be on the way.

<Wait the shelves….>Adaea realised looking over the dozens of blue blinking panels that lined the corridor, as she swept her hand over one a holo of various life signs appeared.
<I think…>

Pressing the release command the panel slid outward – it was in fact a kind of horizontal storage cabinet like one might see in an archive or museum and within…

Kassyndra’s breath stopped as her skin flushed hot at the sight, Lyaea moved toward her trembling mother, more for her own comfort than Selaena’s.

The storage unit was like a bacta tank…within was a form covered in tubes rammed into orifices to insert nutrients and remove waste…vicious looking implements to impregnate the host then extract a fetus hovering below the torso…

For a torso was all it was. The arms had been cut off at the elbows, the legs at the knees.

This was how they kept them...twelve Aethans unconscious and shorn of any functions other than what was strictly necessary for ‘breeding’  - the perfect brood mares.

That this was one corridor among eight, that it was twelve tanks against a total of 96 currently occupied didn’t enter into their thoughts, the other species likewise interred as the ultimate docile breeders irrelevant to the question of how they could possibly extract them all.

Karintha felt the mercury trickle of the new information as the Ketka began intensifying their fight back. 

They had assumed their People would be unconscious perhaps, locked up certainly, but not integrated in machines that kept them alive. 

Aethans could fight for days on end, physically, they were still 50-75 percent stronger and faster than the stimm soaked Ketka.  But their remaining aetheric stamina and materiel for the fight was measured in tens of minutes.

They were a fast hitting commando force not an attrition capable army.

<Adaea find, a way to disconnect them, Kassyndra a way to stabilize,> even as she spoke she was running down a corridor, ducking under blaster fire, only Ari’s preternatural saber work keeping the more accurate shots off her.

That didn’t solve the problem of how to get them out when their ship was lodged in the wrong side of the station, based on the size of the shelves from Adaea’s vision transmitted into her mind carrying them would be prohibitively difficult under fire.

They were so close...so painfully close to liberating twelve live People, the first success of all the latest signals...and it was slipping through her fingers...If she had waited till Milaea, Jarys and Valens were back, the three of them would tip the balance drastically…

No...this was the Goddesses will, the others would all be forced to rise to this challenge, the People could not continue to rely so heavily on those three - Milaea in particular - to simply overwhelm every situation with Aetheric extremes.

There was one possibility that rose in her head….

<Taryn….> she sent her thoughts to the most experienced with space combat
<Is it possible>

<Possible,> he grunted in between spinning from cover to cover, pistols never ceasing to the point their power cells were half gone barely 10 minus into the attack
<Chiroptera-Dren crazy but possible, gonna need to shore up the section you don’t want levelled>

<Leave that to me> Karintha said grimly as she pushed further forward behind Taryn chugging Hades shots into any Ketka that peeked out to fire at them.

<Lyaea get the Extolled back to the ship, Jenaea prepare to fly the ship forward to the nurseries, everyone else get to the nurseries and secure it  - our objectives remain but the praxis has changed.,> Karintha finished.

The situation, the rescue and the People under her guidance.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 31, 2021, 12:23:47 AM
Chapter 34 — Screams and Silence — Nemesis — Part 4

Praxidikai

(https://i.ibb.co/48st0zM/Y-3.jpg) (https://ibb.co/48st0zM)

The Battle was the faint sound of distant drums as Yorna walked through the under levels of the station guided by a beacon of white to where the Goddesses Justice would be done.

The occasional rumble and warble didn’t slow her progress, nor the odd attempted ambush by the Ketka whom she left as little more than smoking ruins absent limbs and heads.

She came to an intersection where the architectural style radically changed.  The industrial grate flooring and hardy columns gave way to a bulbous curved doorway and concave low friction floor perfect for the slithering of a Hutt.

She swept the door open with a thought, the barrs alloy clanging inward to reveal a vast chamber dimly lit with a green and brown glow, queer glass objecs and tools suited for thick stubby hands on a number of desks, the scent of rotten meat pervaded.

At the far end of the room an empty long diva covered in rich black Hapan shimmer-silks, and around it ten remaining Aethan Ketka awaiting her.

She could hear the echoes of mocking deep laughter that the Flesh Crafter had escaped the imminent destruction of his lair, and left a parting gift for the ones who had driven him out.
 
Twelve Aethans born of forced conception, malformed and degraded as a result of senseless gestation absent all stimulation, retaining only the most base neurological functions required for movement and nascent self protection, the rest grafted in by a mechanical brain, stood ready to destroy her.

Yorna opened herself to every sense and sensation, olfactory, visual, thermal, gravitic, radio, aetheric, audio to witness in full the necessary execution of the abominations.

Their FWMB-39 Heavy repeaters turned the murky mixed lab and living room white, grenades and missile launchers sought her body.

Pulsing out the just power of the Goddess she sped through the barrage flying in twists and turns through the deadly projectiles that ruined the door and wall behind her as she gained ground, her swords flame and shatterpoint power taken to heir extreme by the energy flowing from her body slicing through the Ketka.

With so many artificial stimulants the male Aethan ketka were physically stronger than her, the female with their joints further broken and reset with servos’ even more dexterous.  But the bulk of muscle had been paid for with a lack of speed.

Their numbers made them dangerous as they surrounded her in a tight dance of shot, thrust, riposte, cut and blast.

The cumulative effect of their instinctual aether defence made any telekinetic or other attacks impossible while surrounded, Yorna pushed all the energy instead into taking her bodies speed and reflexes to its absolute physical limit, well over three times her normal incredible swiftness, up to twelve times a humans reflexes.   

Even so their blows struck her, driven by their precise coordination.

A co-ordination that was becoming increasingly predictable.  Born with underdeveloped brains all their martial skill was programmed like a droid through psychosurgery, even accounting for adaptive machine learning this was a severe limitation.

With each blow she avoided the next became easier to do so, with each impact that struck her they had used up completely one of their tactics.

She couldn’t feel any pain as their swords and bolts struck, her hormonal and aetheric state provided raw information on loss of armour, cuts and sprains but no sensation.

Yorna fought through the plague of twisted Aethan bodied droid mind slave creatures with increasing aplomb, with each she managed to cut down, their options narrowed and combat creativity decreased.

By the time she had destroyed half their number she was able to divert her immense energies to healing herself, resetting a popped shoulder, flash sealing bleeding wounds on her left side -  tipping the balance in her favour beyond all doubt.

The last six formed closely, back to back to defend each other as she went on the attack, her every motion leaving an after image of yellow energy as she sliced through the air, shattering molecules before her blades hit the armour with devastating clangs.

They fought on, compelled by their implanted instruction, they clawed and bit, headbutted and stabbed.

She was buffeted, knocked, floored for a moment once a downward stroke slicing into her right knee. 

But the Goddess always rose anew, learned and prospered.  The wretched perversions of their biological excellence could not overcome a scion of the People's genetic legacy.

Blade through one chest, shin cracking the head of another round she took them apart one by one.

But necessary as the extermination was, it was not her true objective.

Even as the last Aethan-Ketka was falling to the ground neck smoking where the head had been she was standing by the silken divan running her hand over it, feeling the vanishing traces of the Hutt Flesh Crafter.

Her fingers paused at the stronger vibration within the folds of the silk.  Disgustingly slick and almost impercitbaly small were skin cells within mucus that facilitated the hutts ambulation.  Lost barely twenty minutes ago they still held enough of the dissolving life energies unique to the Hutt for her to latch onto.

Eyes seeming to see through the vast metal structure she peered through space and time following the aetheric scent of the Hutt, strengthening the link between genetic code common to cells shaven off and still connected to the bloated body.

With calm intensity she worked the punishment through the Hutts Force presence with an instigating command.

Burn

Midway Along the Shag Pobol, in his small but beautifully apportioned Glider, attended by creatures of his own design crafted from the most pleasing of humanoid bodies components a Pohna Kakea, one of the mysterious Hutt Flesh Crafters, master of the perverse arts feared and envied by the Kaijidics in equal measure, felt his skin warm.

Then blister. 

Then Burn.

A fire pushed across a dimension he had no access to consumed him in flailing convulsions, eating down into his body as the neuro-wiped servants stared uncomprehending of what action to take.

Returning to herself content, for the moment, Justice had been imposed.

She raced to rejoin the others. 

<<<<>>>>

Limping and running, some in a display unconscionable year before helping their fellows on board the Extolled leapt back into the slightly upturned Aertemisaea through the lower dock, vertigo overwhelming some of the more injured at the artificial gravity in the Aethan-Chiss destroyer was at  tangent to that in the slowly crumbling Ketka station.

They had pulled out none to soon, as it was they’d lost a quarter of their original forces, the Ketak were finally fully mobilized and were more than able to overwhelm Extolled they managed to grasp.

Maeson swapped out another heavy box of Phirk rounds into the Hades Repeater, the spinning barrel seemed not to have stopped for the last five minutes, pumping dense energy sheathed projectiles into the walls and rubble the relentlessly marching super soldiers used to cover their approach.  At best he was making one hit for every four shots on the Ketka themselves.

Six who had managed to reach him lay dead at his feet - a burning wound in his left side and heavy blows to his head that saw him still seeing patches of blood in his right eye the evidence of the Ketka’s ability to overwhelm even an Aethan.

“We are the last….” Gnurr grunted helping a fellow warrior in
“The others will die in glorious sacrifice to the Avatars,”

One such Extolled was up head just visible behind the rain of balster fire and free floating debris, his amphistaff slashing like a violent whip severing Ketka limbs.  Piece by piece the Extolled ws taken apart, but he cost five Ketka before he fell.

Maeson grimly nodded, each Extolled loss was a blow to the People’s resources.  He prayed this was worth the loss. 

<You better hurry up> he signalled Maekal

Face twisted bitterly Maekal spun through inelegantly to slice a Ketka at the knees before having to heft up again the damn Twi’leki on his back slowing him immeasurably.

Lyr was no more happy to be manhandled than Maekal was to carry him, but felt he was contributing - firing off his Hades pistols every chance he got.

“I’d be there by now if not for this hideous burdensome sac of flesh!” Maekal complained
“Talk less, run more!” Lyr countered.

The final stretch was lousy with Ketka, the Twi’leki irritating -  but Maekal would not be brought down by such trifles.

Tensing his body he spread his divine powers across himself in a shield of electrical fire adjusted to also cover Lyr.

“Oh frell….” he heard the alien creature cringe as sparks of likely fatal energy wound dangerously close to his skin.

Maekal ignored him as he ran forward, the Ketak fire he couldn’t avoid due to his limite mobility was snapped by arcs from his shields, he ran along walls causing Lyr to grip on for dear life, avoiding the Ketka’s tremor swords, and jabbing in his own here he could.

A blockage of six Ketka, three kneeling three standing was ahead to deny him escape - he hurled a sparking ball of kinetic energy to blast them to the side - an exterion that left him reeling and fatigued. 

He could only maintain his heightened state for another half a minute
 
Karintha, Taryn, Sofa and Ari’s advance had come to a halt, stuck in a rounded observation room along the edge of the barracks, pinned between Ketka from both the front and rear door, an even more bashing down the triple transparisteel from the barracks side to get at them, their blades and sabers were working furiously as they tried to ration out their grenades and aetheric power as best they could.

Sheer numbers were beginning to tell against them, as Adaea and Kassyndra worked furiously to disconnect the pods holding the utterly helpless Aethans, co-opting an already fatigued Lydan to drawn on his reserves to manually pry the vast metal cases out of the ‘storage’ aisles.

Selaena, Lyaea and Melron were able to hold back the tide for the moment, but focused on destroying the intruders the Ketka would soon make their way around - or worse explosively through - the rows of senseless ‘breeding stock’ to get at them.

“Frell thissssss.” Jenaea screamed to herself as she closed her eyes and pushed the sublights on the bridge.

The structural integrity of the lab portion of the Station Module already compromised now completely collapsed as the Aertemisaea’s belly magnetic accelerator cannons did what they could to blast Ketka trying to clamber onto the vast hull though the Zyggerian wreckage.

The bladed tip Aertemisaea’s ultradense hull began cutting slowly through the Zyggerian hull then into the facility itself, the Blackstone gaining numeros determined scrapes but its higher density and protective enchantments kpt it together as she pushed up toward a gruelling 10 kmph.

Shattering through another group of Ketka, irritated at having to leave enemies alive and fearing they thought he was fleeing in cowardice not performing a tactical withdrawal Maekal desperately threw his last grenade ahead to twist outside in a wall exposing the vast black wall of the Aertemisaea just starting to glide past

“Hold on gremlin!” he called to Lyr
“What do you think I’ve been do….HUTTS BLOODY MYVONX” 

Maekal leapt straight at the passing ship that was sparking and heated from the friction - he drove his daggers into the hull to get purchase before trying to clamber to an inset section of the hull big enough for them both to shelter in as it made its slow progress.

Too slow, the Ketka able to keep up firing ineffectual shots on the hull, but also harassing Maekal constantly as he made his way to the Hangar opening by crawling along the hull when that section wasn’t being ground against durasteel columns.

Brother out from a floor grate, sister from a ceiling vent the Twins tore through the Ketka pinning Karintha’s team on the Nursery side.  Swift as they were precise their Cloak of Shadow confounded the Cybernetic sensory suites for approximately 5.4 seconds - all they needed to cripple half of their number. 

Kiraea came round the corner to finish the rest, swords leaching aether fire they stabbed indifferently into the wounded as she passed and set a conflagration among the rest that the Twins were engaged with.

The pressure relieved Karintha’s forces raced ahead, Taryn holding the rear, reaching out with all his telekinetic might to collapse the corridor behind them in on itself buying them precious time to race to the ‘Nursery’.

With each step they felt the rumble of the Aertemisaea approaching, Jenaea drawing on the precise position of her fellow people to try and align the vast vessel as best as possible to pick them all up.

Racing through a network of tunnels on a low level all suited to a Hutts form Yorna made her way to the same location.

The turbo lift up would take too long, an aether propelled leap sent her crashing up through the floor in the midst of a Ketka squad.

It buffeted the super soldiers aside and she turned her sword to the ones ahead, their weapons all trained on the Nursery entrance, covering behind the bodies of their former brethren. Slicing through their backs she relieved pressure on the others.

<We a way to get them out,> Adaea confirmed head deep in worse and tube spurting nutrients as Kassyndra steadied the unconscious Aethans with healing flows to ensure the disconnection and sudden movement didn’t cause any unforeseen complications.

<I can only sustain three at once…> Kassyndra called over the din,

That meant three others would be needed to be pulled from the battle lines to stabilise all twelve...and then there was getting them onto the ship when it broke through.  Lydan was still hefting the pods strongly as ever - but his aetheric energy had been spent getting them there and was only slowly recharging, and on his own couldn’t lift the pods fast enough.

A minor relief came in the form of Karintha and Kiraea’s groups finally breaking through to the nurseries, Ketka hot on their heels.
Critical information flowed from every member into Karintha’s co-ordinating mind even as she and her team broke through a Ketka ten man squad and clambered or simply leapt up the ladders to the main level the Twelve trapped Aethans were on.

Maekal was barely holding onto the ship, Jenaea piloting it as carefully as could be hoped given it was pressing through solid metal, trying to pivot to get the hangar entrance aligned with the vast nursery corridors as best she could.

The Extolled were out, those not dead injured.  Maeson was preparing a way to catch the Pods in the ship, everyone else was aetherically fatigued - down to their last reserves short of fully opening themselves to hormonal overdrives of Aephrodaea’s Vengeance or Grace - even if activated it would give them perhaps another five to six minutes of aether stamina at which point they would be reliant only on physical strength. 

The Station itself was at imminent risk of complete structural failure.

Explosions further down the nursery killed the interred beings in those shelves outright as the Ketka broke through behind them

They risked losing not just the twelve captives, but their whole force.

This was her time to control and guide Her People to victory.

<Sofa, Kiraea help Yorna hold the front entrance> she directed feeling the floor begin to buckle and warp beneath her feet as centres of mass her advanced vestibular system could sense changed all round the collapsing Module as Jeneae pushed their ship further forward.

<Melron, Sel, Lya help Adaea and Lydan uncouple and Kassyndra stabilise the survivors>  those four had taken the brunt of the fighting keeping Kassyndra and Adaea safe to work out how to free the twelve, it seemed excessive to ask more of them, but there was little choice.

<Ari, Evaea, Evyn, fortify our rear and flanks, Taryn move between them and Yorna’s group as needed>

Now was her moment, to stand first and center as Matriarch.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 31, 2021, 12:26:06 AM
 
Chapter 34 — Screams and Silence — Nemesis — Part 5


Nemesis

(https://i.ibb.co/kXP2ZzB/Ari-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/kXP2ZzB)

Compared to what other sentients experienced - so she had been told - Ari experienced the galaxy in ‘slow motion’, found most humanoid speech unbearably slow, the motion of many objects ponderous, it had taken many years to if not adapt, then find a way to benefit from slower ‘outsider’ speed

This experience of time and motion was taken to a new extreme as purple white energy bled off her in waves.  She could make out every miniscule fragment hurtling on an explosive arc from where the Ketka were breaching at the far end of the ‘nursery’ corridor.

She had been too late to save Myri, too uncontrolled against Anson’s Sentinels on Galtea.  Both previous limitations were relieved.

Releasing her sabers, still alight, her Control kept them moving with her every bound as if she were still holding them as she drew her termorsword.

Her eyes saw with utter precision how heat front he exploded after off shrapnel, how chunks of long since fluid interred flesh was shredded from ‘parents’ kept in the suspended animation nursery.

It was beyond depraved how beings were ‘kept’, ‘bred’ and ‘enhanced’ here, a new low of outsider treatment of People that made accessing the very depth of her rage fuelled power incredibly easy.

That there was a chance to save twelve People from this horrific fate built in perfect harmony another thread of power from her protective instinct toward others.

The two streams of emotional activation were mingled and fused into the shimmering energy that radiated from her skin, seeping even through the ultradense armour as she saw the first Ketka appear waddling as if through an invisible mud to her ultra-heightened senses.

With a crash of displaced air and after image of her motion she slashed into them, sword and sabres working like diamonds saws chewing through armour and flesh, the aura of energy about her consuming any blaster shots that hit.

The Twins were a few second behind Ari, just in time to proficiently end the handful of Kekta she had left crippled but not fully dead or - testament to the solidity of the Ketka augmetics - attempting rapid repairs - then continue the advance into the Ketka themselves as Ari drew back the extreme flush of her charge petering out.

Ari had more to give, but the extreme speed, coordination and raw power needed for her blitzes was draining and each would be only half as strong as the last - tagging in between the Twins acrobatic displays of slaughter maximized her effectiveness.

At the other end of the Nursery Yorna gripped her sister's hands channeling concentrated power from Sofa and Kiraea into a Trinity Blast as they leapt a barricade into the Ketka.

The triple power Lighting flash immolated half a dozen of the cyborg abominations as they landed, Kiraea’s swords and Sofa’s saber working on the flanks to block and press the Ketka back to open chances for Yorna who remained encased in a yellow haze to stab in with furious speed and cell eating fire.

(https://i.ibb.co/VwYV5x6/Milla-Jovovich-stars-as-Alice-in-Screen-Gems-RESIDENT-EVIL-THE-FINAL-CHAPTER.jpg) (https://ibb.co/VwYV5x6)

Karintha stood between the two poles of power in Ari and Yorna, drawing on the blood red tendrils of the dying Ketka to energise herself.

Lydan and Melron continued to heft the remaining pods out, Adaea furiously working the sequence of disconnection from dozens of tubes and cables, the others helping where they could before being guided by a flagging Kassyndra to keep the interred Aethans in a relatively stable state.

Karintha pressed her power out catching in her mind every critical structural support she could and pouring out kinetic energy to brace them against the coming rumble of the Aertemisaea even as the rest of her mind channeled and co-ordinated the cut and thrust of the defence and the balancing of energy between disconnecting and stabilising the victims.

Ketka bodies mummified and shrivelled as she pulled more and more power from their dead cells, the fissures in the metals and polymers constantly threatening to explode outward and break them all with it.

Melron and Lydan strained after as much fighting to lift the last remaining pods to the ground, each nearly 600 kilo’s it took all their strength, Lydan slipping at one point the other end caught by Taryn who was darting between the front and rear combats relieving pressure where he could and adding some Hades fire into the mix.

Selaeana, Lyaea and Kassyndra now joined a finally finished Adaea to stabilise the trapped People as best they could, the pods were not designed to disconnect the occupants alive, and their bodies were so adapted to the artificial flows they had begun degenerating immediately once closed from the central nutrient circulation system.

Sofa covered Kiraea and Yorna with Soryu’s impenetrable Niman style as the sisters fell back their furious fire having having incinerated dozens of Ketka in the now open zone ahead - what had been corridors, internal walls and ceilings were now demolished fragments laying multiple floors open for the Ketka to crowd and advance. 

They had begun to predict the Ketka far better, their psycho-surgery implanted tactics now running low as the aethans adapted faster than cybernetic brains could, but any gain from knowing their enemy was lost to their endless hordes.

Ari completed a fourth and final powered charge, shattering only four Ketka before limping backward behind the Twins cover, the assassin pair coated in blood over battered armour covering her retreat back at the cost of numerous hits on their own bodies.

Yorna’s flush of power was all but spent, coming off the highs she felt numb allowing her to keep fighting beside Kiraea, their four baldes working marvellous devastation, but slowed reflexes allowing in a number of hits.

Sheer numbers would sooner or later overwhelm them, every logical analysis of the strategic situation indicated defeat was imminent, that the vast ship ploughing through steel would not reach them in time, or more likely, cause the entire section to collapse and entomb them.

Karintha was not the least concerned
 
<To ME!> she called her People closer to her, all the men forced to shift the pods next to her as she stood arms still outstretched, the blizzard of balster fire constant, the women barely able to deflect it now.

Karintha narrowed the protective bubble around her, full of confidence that she exuded to the others.

They would not be defeated, they were chosen of the Goddesses. 

Karintha understood the truth of it, the Goddesses had sacrificed the many to save the few. Thousands of Aethans had died so this handful could survive, so that the vast but limited power of the Goddesses could be focused on those best able to thrive in the galaxy. 

A strategy heartbreaking as it was Wise, Brutal as it was Merciful.

All the while Karintha had been drawing a small amounts of power from the others, building a reserve, with this she now doubled the strength of the kinetic barrier, sufficient to stop the blaster bolts and in fact knock two charging Ketka back as the physical collapse of the station became ever more complete.

The Goddesses had made a vast sacrifice in the opening round of the Aethan war with the Outsiders so those few that survived could benefit from focused protection. 

That was why she was unconcerned, why she knew even as the ceiling was torn off and pods full of other species harvested for infants burst apart, that her barrier would hold, that whatever battles they faced, no matter how outnumbered, they would win - the Goddesses had chosen this handful to survive and already paid in tears and blood for it.

Breaches to raw space opened as the black grinding hull scored with scratches appeared overhead beneath the red haze of Karintha’s kinetic shield.

The People held on, not to the chunks of metal that flew away as readily as the Ketka, but to each other. hands locked to forearms, on her right Yorna took Karintha’s hand joining her to Kiraea, Sofa, Selaena and Melron, on the Left Ari linked her to Lydan, Lyaea, Adaea, Taryn and Kassyndra.

Each in turn gripped with their minds the pods as best they could.

Above the ceiling was blasted apart by Hades fire from Maeson and Maekal, both looking far worse for wear. 

The bright lights of the hangar entry enveloped them like the Goddesses own smiles as nyal- steel cables were shot down to bind to the pods as gravity finally gave out.

As quickly as they could they levitated and lifted the pods first then themselves into the ship, sprawling on the deck, Karintha’s shield keeping them safe front he Ketka.

She was the last to leave, her body covered in protective red of the shield now diminished to just cover her.

She looked across the ruin of metal and machine, some of the Ketka incredibly still trying to get at them, the turrets on the Aertemisaea now opening up on them pulping them with space warfare grade maser shots.

The People had come far from Devastation, they were still in the midst of emotional and strategic chaos the likes of which surrounded her now. 

But just as she stood immovable and firm in the center of this physical chaos, so she was now the fixed point in the midst of the Peoples social crisis.

Grabbing the nyal-steel cable Karintha was lifted into the ship as Jenaea prepared to finish off the Ketka facility.

With the People safe Jenaea opened up the cannons to blast her way out of the rest of the station, slagging the last few dozen meters into orange heated chunks.

There was no rest for anyone as they made every effort to keep the prisoners alive while Kassyndra worked on a more long term way to stabilise them. 

And but one order was left to give as the Cloaking systems came online before they breached the modules other side.

<We need to cleanse them…> Yorna instructed, Jenaea flicked two switches and the Thermo nuclear torpedo shot out at minimal velocity so Yorna could guide it with her mind via the embedded Orb back through the wreckage to the rough centre of the module heaving out its contents to space.

As the Hyperspace tunnel opened for the micro jump that so dangerously close to the station would cause an EM wave that would send the nearby modules into blackness, Yorna detonated the bomb.

The Aertemisaea flew on the crest of a nuclear tidal wave.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/KjXKHVL/Hyper-Rear.png) (https://ibb.co/wNRc1pw)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on May 31, 2021, 12:39:44 AM
Chapter 34 — Screams and Silence — Nemesis — Part 6

Old Enemies New

In the bosom of the Hutt Throne worlds, the Bootana Hutta, past the Fortress Worlds of Mulatan and Gos Hutta, a Glider transmitting Pohna Kakea signals came gently to rest attended by lobotomized servants and one of the more senior Klatooinian bonded servants of the Flesh Crafters Fortress-Palace.

They found only the charred body of Kotka - Master - Vuurl.  Of the small clique of Flesh Crafters he actually enjoyed removing himself from the sanctuary of the Fortress Palace World, the others happy to have their toys shipped to them and the vast laboratory and training complexes  where the Crafted armies that protected the Bootana Hutta were crafted.

Amidst the secret determinations of the Hutt Elders following the Hutt Cataclysm it was known that a unified neutral zone for the pleasure of their species was needed - the Bootana Hutta sector - where any violence between Kajidics was met with extreme sanctions - the worst of which was to  given over the Flesh Crafters.

 But such a paradise had to be protected by an equally neutral force. 

They turned to the Pohna Kakea, feared by all Hutts for practising the macabre arts of Flesh Crafting - the deal was simple, the Kajidics provided the credits and materiel for the Pohna Kakea to create and arm- but not control - armies of enhanced slave soldiers, and a generous extra amount for the Flesh Crafters ‘living expenses’.

The vast bulk of the crafted creatures were of the Klatoonian race, long since indentured to the Hutts, relatively easy to breed and naturally durable. 

Vuurl had been experimental with other species, selling his wares more openly outside the Bootana, a necessary task to be sure to keep up with changing times and technologies.

For his fellow Masters his death was most perturbing as it meant one of their shunned lot had to venture out of the paradise of the Bootana.

And they really ought to find his killers, the tale of the Zygerrian sucide run smacked of incredulity. 

But the Pohna Kakea were not reactive or hurried beings. 

They took their time, decade’s centuries, in time they would discover the truth of it...and then...well they always needed more flesh to craft.

<<<<>>>>

“Have you read it?” the normally pleasing sing-song voice of the sullustan was marked by a vicious tone.

Master Tnbu, head of Jedi intelligence, had once been a reliable, competent stable operator.  That was before Kimar was killed in the Council Chambers, before Ord Mirit saw the war with the Traitor Valens and his ilk come to a plasma fire end.

Yshrrk behind the vast desk built to suit his enormous wookie frame grunted, he had in fact been reading a report from agents on Galtea.

The civil war there was turning irreversibly in favour of Anson D’Aklon.  A month ago that might’ve filled him with some contentment, but the last transmission, short and troubled from his nephew Ryshhk had him left him perturbed.

Much seemed to be wrong within D’Aklon’s forces, if not militarily then morally even for the grey morass of a civil war, and Ryshhk was uncertain as to whether he had chosen righly in his allegiance.

Yshrrk had offer what little wisdom he could in a text burst transmission of barely 50 characters that could get through the comms blackouts D’Aklon had imposed. “Trust your heart”.

But to Tnbu’s matter…
[Zygerrian ship suicides into the Unblemished’s factory…] he shudder at the thought of what went on in that place
[Destroys it with a nuclear bomb, Rorak V peppered with debris, a Sixth of the Station offline for weeks from the electromagnetic waves…]
He leaned back crossing his thick arms across his chest

[What of it?]

“A mere week After Unblemished were killed on Nar Shadda by beings in light absorbent armour! It’s them, Valens abominations!”

[Light absorbing armour is common enough among assassins and mercenaries, violence between Kajidics is common as a tangle in your underarm fur]

He belatedly realised Tnbu might not appreciate that wookie aphorism.

“I have other reports across a dozen systems over the last three months of similar violent episodes involving such beings leading up to this,”

Tnbu’s mind, Yshrrk knew, was second to none analysing intelligence from disparate sources, but ever since Ord Miit he was, in the wookies opinion, subconsciously looking for evidence Valens was alive, and in a galaxy of so much violence and crime following the Black Suns implosion with Vigo Xithars death, it was not hard to find unexplained deaths and terrorist attacks.

“We must investigate,”

Yshrrks glassy dark yellow eyes stared down the diminutive Sullustan.  The High Sentinel briefly thought of the parallel between Tnbu and D’Aklon, both frantically seeking to protect against enemies that most likely were not there...fortunately Tnbu did not control an army of Jedi, and as a double check on interventions could not act without Yshrrk’s permission and resources.

He had no intention of yielding either.

[Rorak is the largest slave market in the known galaxy...I’d be more tempted to send the Queen of Zyggeria a bunch of Moffi-Berries as a thank you. Her own markets will get more trade now, the motive is evident and the execution was crass....but Trees know those Unblemished creatures of the Flesh Crafters are - were - an anathema I’m glad to see the end of...until those perverse Hutts inevitably start up again]

He could feel Tnbu’s bile rising.  He leaned forward speaking in a deep low growl as he might censure young wookies caught claw fighting.

[We have No jurisdiction in Hutt space, and neither I, nor the Council, nor Senate, would ever approve us intervening or investigating there, was there anything else Master?]

“No…” Tnbu whistled out defeated
“...but I will remain Vigilant…”

The High Sentinel remained unmoved for long minutes after the Sullustan left, before taking out a brief from one Master Ilm Noroo of Corellia sent directly to him as High Sentinel - His eyes only thank the Trees - on it a facial profile the Kel-Dor had created.

Yshrrk had recognised the face instantly as Sofa Neirai, an, at best, begrudging if capable Jedi, Soryu’s apprentice, Milaea’s master...and Valens Lover. A woman he had seen with his own eyes cut down then fall into plasma fires on Ord Mirit.

His breath was deep and slow as he scrunched the print out and archived under his office Seal the file never to be released. 

Valens and his kind were dead and would remain so -  if not in fact, then - notwithstanding Tnbu’s suicidal obsession-   in the Orders memory.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on May 31, 2021, 09:49:19 PM
YES!!

Now THAT'S how to do Star Wars action properly  8)

With Karintha having vacillated from one point to the other since her resurrection, we see her full of conviction in donning the mantle of Matriarch, carrying the burden of everything that the role entails.  All People are hers to protect, which means more than just those who survived the Devastation; her protectorate is their entire culture, one that she now recognizes as having been trimmed down, a "remnant of a remnant," a necessity decreed by the Goddesses themselves as she embraces the plural aspects of them: Praxidikai, Nemesis, Erinys, to realize their decree...

To save the People, they must sacrifice them first... To wit:

After their series of misses, misfortunes, failures, and tragedies, the People come up with a BIG win, some nice collateral damage for the Slave traders as a bonus.  But that seems to be part of a larger concern: now that the Aethans have liberated a dozen, how long will it take for them to heal?  If Lydan's and Janaea's experiences are anything to go by, there is still MUCH to do by way of therapy (Shatterpoint Healing only does so much as we've seen) and being kept as a living incubator whose only purpose is to birth genetically-enhanced soldier-products HAS to have taken its toll, regardless of Aethan genetic emotional imperatives and tampering.  And that it only ONE problem arising from the rescue...

The Pohna Kakea will inevitably find out more about the Aethans; they possess a dangerous trifecta: vast resources, remarkable initiative, and--worst of all--patience.  As we've seen by the assault on Rorak V, even Aethan genehancement can sadly carry one only so far and the collective tactics of even the most rudimentary Ketka soldier would eventually pick up that a zerg-attack in numbers would overwhelm.  Yes, the casualties would be astronomical...but with a disposable army of cyborgs at their beck and call, the Pohna Kakea would effectively ignore that given the outcome...

And then we also come to the heart of the matter: the Jedi Order has not precisely been dormant since the incident at Ord Mirit, suspicions and certainties now firmly entrenched by two of the most powerful Jedi.  Which of them will have the courage of their convictions to see their respective decisions through?  And which option will truly be the best for the galaxy?

There are too many moving parts to consider for the various powers to ignore one another, and one of them, more than one, perhaps even all will spark the conflagration that will consume sector after sector...

On a meta-note: OUTSTANDING job with the posters!!!  These look absolutely fantastic  :)

...And I love the schematic of the Artemisaea ramming Rorak V


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 07, 2021, 10:37:59 PM
Chapter 35 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  By Her Will— Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/Gtf1VSh/Witches-X1.png)

The Past
He awoke among the dead.

Black stillness putrid with the scent of rot, wet sticky blood covered him, limbs twisted and pressed against him in a pile of hastily tossed corpses. 

Their warmth was fading, his was steady – for now.

Pain a distant echo in the back of his skull along with slowly coalescing memories of how it had been inflicted.

The sticks…goblin creatures…shot a lightning in green that wasn’t the aether…or at least not as he understood it…the green had no life as aetheric lighting does…but dealt death.

They struck him over and over…

His hand spasmed…yet he struck one…it had a…shield…not a lightning or telekinetic shield…a dead energy that hurt to hit…he had no weapons, he had been…had been…

“Kaaaa…” the absence filled him as the words failed from his dry throat.

Karintha his wife…they had been together after the wedding feast…her nieces Yorna and Kiraea….the strange message Yorna had received from the Goddess of the Hunt herself mere days before…was it a warning he had not understood?

Had they too had fallen to the goblins weapons?

His body was slack…if Karintha and the girls were gone…what was left to him?

No

He was a Guardian he had to find and protect all who survived…

Survived…how did I survive

There were scorched burns all over him, blistering painful skin rubbing against the senseless dead about him…he called on the aether to soothe and heal…

It was…not gone but…distant…

Where am I?

The aether flowed through living things, grew and flourished with them…here there was only himself, a vague sense of a few others then…

the Abyss of Ages all around…where have their flying carts taken us…to some strange underworld?

Without the aether how could he heal…without strength in his limbs how could he help his People….

The very People that crowded and squeezed him as corpses, bodies decomposing slowly…it was cold he noticed - not as in winter…a false cold like their false lightning…these Goblins wielded deception and strange magicks…
 
He was lost, crammed with the dead on the barge beyond the Styx where even the aether died…

But so I think…so therefore I still am….Goddess of Wisdom guide my thoughts…

The aether was not dead yet and nor was he…perhaps his unconscious state was so deep they mistook him for one of the dead…if so then there was a chance…where there was life there was yet…options…

He drew what thin tendrils of the aether he could to himself…and slipped back into a restless healing slumber.

<<<<>>>

She could feel it coming from the edge of the system…meaning other clans could sense it too…no matter she had no fear of the preening ‘good’ daughters of Allya. 

Lykana well knew they were the traitors to their Grandmothers original vision – it was only when Allya, Blessed Mother, was senile she had recanted the True Way of the magic and written the Book of Law to ‘guide’ her daughters – Lykana suspected it was under duress by the weaker of her daughters in her dotage. 

Lykana and her kin would never accept this Book of Law that denied the full breadth of magic and the right it gave them to rule.

The ship slowly wound its way toward the landing platform of what was once a penitentiary for the Republic – in days past all Dathomir had been a prison, the fools saw the Rancor filled jungles and swamps as a terror to punish…no it was a paradise of rich energy and life – Allya had overthrown the Republic prison masters, turned the prisoners to serve those with the Arts and reigned well for decades as her daughters grew in strength and numbers…even taking in Zabrack henchmen as chattel…until her old age and confusion allowed the weaker ones to twist her vision.

But on this ship were more pieces to grow the ‘Night Sisters’ as the other clans derisively called Lykana and the others who held to the True vision of the Blessed Mother…potent blood offerings for spells.

The blocky brown ship settled on the worn platform with a thud, as the Co2 hissed out so too came the retch worthy stench of the dead.

I demanded they keep the bodies preserved!

The Capitan, a filthy Gamorrean spat on the ferrocrete and hit a button, with a meaty thud a dozen male corpses flopped to the ground from the hold, oozing pus and dark congealed blood.

<Hrrnk…You order dead men Force magicks…get from Myzm Hutt..you pay>

Its grunts were as vile as its smell and appearance as it approached

“I demanded they be kept cold for transport…these are rotten!” Lykana seethed her cousins behind her fingering their spears and scythes – Reapers the other tribes called them for their preference in weaponry.

<You pay> it grunted oblivious to its failures

Lykana glanced at the mess…a few of the bodies were still…reasonable…for the spells and rituals they needed to perform…but only a few.

“Fine tak…”

The corpses exploded upward as one caked in blackened blood leapt forward like a Rancor.

The aether - deep and rich here - had filled Taran’s body with strength enough to strike the goblins…one stood up ahead, moving so slowly to turn toward him. 

Through the red awareness of his own deteriorated limbs Taran plunged fist first straight into its pug nose, knee into the metal of its fat stomach armour, shattering it to pieces.

Lykana raised a hand to hold her Reapers back, merely observing the scene as more gammoreans rushed to their captain’s aid…
 
The dead man looked like a Spectre in the black dried blood, and fought like the Fanged God himself – he cracked another ones skull in then hurled the body into the ship bowling over another two before leaping in and decimating their fallen bodies with his weight.

Lykana smiled…that saved her some credits at least…but more importantly…this male…the Arts were strong with him…extremely strong…yet she could sense he was flagging…injured…

“Go finish them,” she ordered her Reapers stepping forward as the Dead Man hurled another gamorrean across and off the landing platform his chest heaving with painful exhaustion as two bulky creatures fell upon him. 

He dodged one blade but not the other – Lykana raised her hand an unleashed Allya’s fire upon the green skinned beast setting its flesh bubbling as her cousins skewered the last of the filth filling the air with ecstatic shrieks and spattered blood that reddened the feathers that decorated their headdresses. .

Taran turned to his saviours…three women…thank the Goddesses…the aether flowed through them strongly as he fell to his knees – he had thought his attack would be a last act of defiance…instead it had summoned aid in this strange Land from other People.

“Daeahturs a’ te Goddesses yo’r aead ae’ baeassech” the male spoke in a garbled accents that emphasises vowels oddly, but she could feel his willing obedience.

Lykana extended her hand

“Come maleling…we will care for you…”
<<<<>>>

Twenty Five Year Later
Feet sore as they lightly sprinted over uneven ground she dared to glance backward.

The sharp blaze of the fire was now only a dim orange glow through the trees, but the Shadow was growing ever closer. 

In the dark of night it was not a shadow her eyes could see, but one that tainted the flow of magic. 

Aud Storm-Cloud could only run, her daughter and heir close beside her.

Between trees, under logs, over stumps they raced hoping beyond hope it would not catch her, hot tears still on her face smearing her woad coverings. 

Once the Pine Forest Clan had been proud and prosperous, well respected trading in amber and fur to southern tribes…

That was until the Harrowing, until the Day Wars. 

Lykana with her demon creature and Reapers had confederated the tribes around Steadfast Peak one by one, building a kingdom beneath her.  Some went willingly, eager to join the ranks of her Reapers and indulge in the excesses her Dark Magicks offered.  Others resisted and felt the crushing blow of those same magicks and worse the…

AWOOOOOO

A war cry behind her, she stepped up the pace, it was coming or her. She could hear its pounding on the ground, feet heavy as a rancor and twice as dangerous.

She had seen It only once before…on the Field of Padraas where she had observed the Last Battle.  A coalition of Tribes had united 1000 strong against Lykana, Rancors, Archers, trebuchets, ballista’s, spear women, even Males were armed against her.

Against them was Lykana’s force of 600 on a downward slope, the field muddy and slow to traverse…It seemed they had a chance at last…

The Champions stepped forward, a dozen from the Coalition, one from Lykana…the one that chased her now…

The Varangian.

Two metres tall, covered in metal and bone armour etched with dried blood, he loomed over the Champions of the other tribes, his sword weighing as much as any one of them crackled with Lykana’s enchantments. 

They said he hailed from somewhere far to the north among the ‘free’ male tribes…Aud knew those tribes, her own tribe abducted strong males from there for mating.

Strong and steadfast men built to survive the cold winters making them excellent breeding stock valuable in trade to southern tribes…Aud’s daughter and two sons were children of such, the boys sent to the male tribe when they turned seven….never had Aud seen anything or anyone that resembled this Varangian.

In the first days they underestimated him…considered Lykana weak for using a male…laughed as he would stand before the army to fight…not by the Last Battle.  Twelve women champions fought to the bitter end with Bow, Spear, Sword, Staff and Magick.  He bled, was knocked to the ground, jaw shattered, foot crushed, thigh bleeding, arm broken…

It was still not enough….if they could not win then nor could she now.

She quickly looked to her Daughter - Aun Frost-Glade was swift, Aud could tell she was holding back to stay with her.

“Don’t wait for me!” Aud yelled voice bouncing off trees as the pounding steps grew louder.

The mountains were just ahead, if Aun could reach them…over the border into the Deep Valley Clan’s territory…for all the taboo’s Lykana broke in her delving forbidden alchemy and dark magicks she respected the Laws between tribes and the Laws of Battle.

As the Champions died one by one on the Field they feared a True battle would take place…for generations no such had been fought, armies would assemble as a show of force, skirmishes were common - but life was too valuable, each tribes numbers too few.

Broken, bleeding but victorious the Varangian had strode forward toward the Coalition line, Lykana and her Coven on Rancors fluttering behind, long ribbons stitched with runes and skulls etched with spells dangling from the saddles.

It was then Aud knew she had no choice but to submit…just as she had no choice now but to resist.

Skidding to a halt she pulled her two kukris from behind her, forged of Ice-stone enchanted with the Winds of the North.  Aun paused for a second.

“GO I COMMAND YOU!” Aud screeched.  Whether in obedience to her as Chief or Mother it mattered not, her daughter ran on. 

Aun could remember no time before the Tribes of Dathomir became vassals to Lykana…nor recall when they were not bled of tributes in goods and flesh every year – amber, Ice-Stone, furs, males, Ko-seal tusks…things they had once traded for grains and fruits with southern tribes were instead sent to Lykana’s Palace deep in Steadfast Peak…

…or Blood Peak -human sacrifices were so numerous within the lonely mount on the Grey Plains now wept blood.

All their prosperity was consumed by Lykana’s avarice, thoughts of rebellion kept in check by fear of the Reapers and Varangian…some tried to flee off world, few succeeded…some clans rebelled in the early years after the Last Battle…each one crushed, the chiefs made examples of, those strong in the arts fed to the Blood Peak, chattel sold to more loyal tribes.

Still the tribe survived…until a bad year for sealing and fishing, stocks depleted by over exploitation and a bad harvest further south…the amber mines dried up, Razor-wolves and hack-bears few in number meant too few furs…the demand for tribute higher than ever…Aud could not pay…she had tried to reason with Lykana through her emissary but…

Stars peaked between the pines above as the heavy boots that had dogged her from her burning village now slowed. 

Her ‘excuses’ were not tolerated, Lykana ever more paranoid as the years wore on had determined Aud was plotting against her, sending her resources to rebels. 

Aud now wished she had.

It seemed to be part of the black between the trees, and towered larger than them.  In the faint night light she could just make out the silhouette of the towering body, the blade clicking as it was drawn from its scabbard made of bound flesh tattooed with ritual spells.

Aud closed her eyes and gripped her kukris tightly whispering a blessing for Aun as she prepared for her inevitable defeat.

The enormous blade swung down, her blades rose to meet it –they shattered under its impact…

Aud’s last word were a curse on Lykana.

<<<<>>>

Jo Set Mack
Kneeling on the slightly grotty faux marble Jo picked up the sense of his target,

Young…familiar…frightened…

A quick tracing motif and he had the thread in the song, this one had slipped through his grasp before – not a second time.

Pushing the crowd he raced past stalls and shopfronts, glitzy gaudy lights and advertisements on predictable blinking cycles, he wove through.

The Force pulsed with his targets presence as he turned into a store, attendants and customers backing away startled more at his outfit than the look on his face.

A family of four in the corner caught his eye, a fifth head bobbed behind them, hair blond rather than the black and brown of the others.

Stepping up to them at his full height he pushed out his chest,

“Excuse me,”

They stepped aside and his target realising the game was up slumped

“You’re coming with me,”

<<<<>>>>

“…and a three month ban from all Weis-ten Shopping Malls,” Jo finished explaining to the forlorn looking teenager across his tiny desk crammed up beside the lockers of the other Mall security guards.

This teenage thief had pinched all of 20 credits worth of goods for a dare. Jo had some sympathy, he knew too well the prices paid for rash decisions.

“Now I’ll need to call your parents to come and get you,”

“Please don’t!” the boy complained “I’ll, I’ll pay for everything on top of returning it!”

Jo half smiled at his attempt to escape his ‘fate’

“Son, that’s the policy,” he picked up the wired comm that had been there longer than the mall itself

“But do me one favour, next time you get asked to break a rule, or rush off after something, I want you to remember how you feel right now and think twice,” Jo added mirroring something Odjina had said to him many years before…Jo had ignored it. He hoped this boy didn’t.

His guilty eyes remained down cast, Jo subtly hummed a supportive tune till the boy looked up.

“Yessir…”

<<<<>>>

“Like this…” she showed him exactly how she wanted things

Obediently he began to firmly rub her shoulders – it was not the first time she had corrected him, it would not be the last. She changed her preference just to correct him.

Their apartment on Phaeda was modest and comfortable, a far cry from the Nar Shadda dive they had met in - and was all he could really afford short of selling his ship the Rain Song

Stripped of his rank and title, Kage Li’I’Mack had given Jo a severance package and access to a small portion of the family trust as a direct payout – he’d still needed a job, mall security. 

Underwhelming for a Mak’Tor – even a disgraced one – it kept ends meeting and provided flexibility to respond to his ‘Mistress’ demands.

Their relationship was…unusual – their child was the result of a transaction, a baby in exchange for her tracing - however imprecisely - Sofa Neirai a former Jedi turned terrorist in league with Valens, the infamous killer of Kage Odjina and Grand Master Kimar.

In a fit of rage fuelled insanity Jo had tried to kill Valens – insanity for if Odjina - a Master Singer and warrior without peer for generations among the Mak’tor could not win Jo had no chance – and so it was, three times he’d faced Valens and three times he’d escaped barely alive because Sofa had ordered Valens to spare him – an irony that Jo now found himself just as obedient to Jeisena Hri as Valens was to Sofa. 

As a Night Sister, a witch of Dathomir she expected males obey without question, her word was law, wish his command – ideally without her having to explain them. 

This was the consequence of his actions, he could not abandon her and her child – always her child NEVER his - a mere tool in the conception and now provider of convenience nothing more.

It was Jo thought in some moments his punishment for having taken the path of vengeance – at least he was alive and relatively comfortable.

Ulwyn slept quietly across the room, nearly four years, largely oblivious to the nature of her parents relationship, gradually displaying her mother’s disregard for him in subtle ways.

Ulwyn… somehow she made it all worthwhile, and reminded him of all he had lost by his own foolishness – Jeisena had named and would raise her, he merely provided occasional child care, food and shelter – to even suggest she might take the Mack name let alone learn about her Mak’Tor heritage would end with them leaving.

He tried to be grateful…better than being a smear on Valens boot.

“We will return to Dathomir soon, prepare your ship,” she stated without preamble

Jo’s stopped his massage startled
“Who told you to stop fool!” she screeched

“Sorry…”

“I thought Dathomir was too dangerous…” Jeisena rarely spoke to him about anything of import, Dathomir and why she had left as a teenager less so, but from what he had gathered some Night Sister had taken control of the planet quite violently some twenty odd years before – Jeisena one of those who had escaped.

“Ulwyn is nearly five, she needs to go there, even that psychotic bitch wouldn’t deny a child their naming ceremony.”

A child was not officially named until their fifth birthday – the point at which it was assumed they were strong enough to survive - a saddening example of how precarious life on Dathomir was.

“I’ll get some leave from work…” he obeyed, disturbed at how easy he found it now. He had no leave left at work due to Jeisena’s demands but a little Mind Trick would sort that out.

“See that you do maleling,” she scooted closer as he rubbed

“Now lower,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 07, 2021, 10:42:58 PM
Chapter 35 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  By Her Will— Part 2

Karintha

Warm against her skin the soil was soft and loamy with moisture from decomposition and early morning dews.

It stuck to her cheek as she pushed up quickly.  Barely half an hour since the sun first peeked over the mountains her arms were sore and bruised.

Karintha detected not even the slightest change in Evaea’s breathing, the only thermal difference a warm patch on the younger girl's elbow from striking Karintha’s breast.

Guardian training was meant to be mutual, ‘No Students No Masters’ as Valens pithily contrasted to the Jedi way - yet she felt Evaea was schooling her.

For the last three months Karintha had been re-teaching Evaea the ways of the People, reconnecting her to their Planet and Goddesses and Guardian arts.

Having trained her nieces, and with Evaea’s submissive nature and experience serving the vile Anzat Vzin, Evaea quickly mastered all Karintha could teach.

Karintha had been far less quick learning from Evaea.

Snapping up her staff she moved in low, striking toward Evaea’s legs with her left hand while pouring out lighting with her right. 

A dancers footwork avoided the staff, modified Fallanassi counter channelling aetheric polarity left Karintha’s lighting with no target to seek, the arc lost into nearby leaves that ate up the free energy.

Switching Karintha hammered in a mental thorn while spinning out, leaping to a trunk to gain distance before bounding forward again, pivoting at the last second with a micro teleport – a technique she had learnt only three days before during Valens visit – Evaea was not fooled, darting out with her own micro jump and a rapid suppression of her consciousness gave the mental thorn no target - ”The best defence was not to block but to not be there at all – this had been Her lesson when she was the senior guardian, passed to her down the generations and she was happy Evaea kept it…

…or was she keeping a similar teaching Vzin had taught her?

Her brief introspection ended in the red haze of pain – an aetheric slam from the front Karintha countered pushing it to the sides – but the tidal wave of energy flowed up over then then back down into her back.

Evaea had mastered second stage telekinetic channelling – the ability to keep control of telekinetic blast even after it was diverted by a secondary force – now that energy slammed Karintha to the ground once more filling her nose and mouth with warm soil and blades of grass.

Karintha could not yet replicate or breach the Cloak of Shadow the girl used to move unseen.  But she still had a few tricks to teach as the merciless placid eyes of Evaea narrowed for the win. 

Evaea jumped down only to find herself in the step worn dirt they trained in, Karintha quickly up and behind her grabbing her in a choke hold, the girl finding she couldn’t overcome Karintha’s greater physical strength.

“How….”

“An illusion and a quick kinetic shunt, I landed further on but you saw me fall where I wanted you to see…”  she said releasing the girl

She took Evaea’s hand as they both stood.

“It seems you’ve reached the limits of the martial skills I can teach you,”

“Sen…Karintha…there is still much you have to teach,” Evaea replied, managing to stop herself saying ‘Sensei’ as she had termed Vzin, if only just.

“There is,” Karintha replied

“In our magicks and art, culture, our history and the Rites of the Goddesses.  Valens or Jarys will help to perfect your physical combat techniques,”

Karintha could not be master of all things, as any good leader understood she needed to surround herself with specialists and delegate accordingly.

“You were their teacher once…no doubt you can teach me most of what they know,” Evaea tried to soothe

“They’ve exceeded me for the moment in such respects - they wisely never stopped learning in the decades I was gone…..but I will catch up. For now why don’t you head to the River, catch some fish if you can,”

Evaea raised an eyebrow How can fish be difficult to catch for a trained Disciple of Twighlight and Anzati Assassination techniques

“Ha, there your thoughts are loud when you are perplexed Evaea,” Karintha laughed

“Go, try your best, you will find that fish able to slip out of physical reality into the aether while dashing through the water are tricky to grab with your hands alone.”

Evaea nodded in obedience and spun to vanish silently and invisibly into the forest under her Cloak of Shadow once more.

The quiet of the forest soon refilled as the insects and small animals scared off by the sparring returned and she walked slowly toward her long house, still in a state of slight disrepair.

In the month since returning from Rorak there had been little time for repairs. 

It had been, all things considered a success, thirteen People recovered when adding Oran whom Milaea had found - according to her - ‘In an abandoned monastery surviving on old rations suffering amnesia’.

Oran apparently had no idea how he had got there, indeed not a single memory since after the Devastation itself.

There had been a brief moment of tension between Aresaea and Milaea - or rather disappointment Milaea had not accepted an offer of help - it lasted barely two hours after the pair discussed something in private. 

Karintha was not certain of the details, but clearly it was something to do with Oran’s rescue, Ari seemed slightly put out by whatever explanation Milaea had given, but understanding that she had made a difficult - if on balance correct - decision. 

In the interest of allowing the ever closer couple their confidences no one had pried any further, Oran would recover quickly.

The Twelve recovered from Roark were a more difficult matter.
Work arounds to keep them alive had been made, the more vicious of the implements grafted into their bodies removed, higher quality Aethan specific nutrient lines keeping them alive. 

But the damage was severe, their limbs were little more than stumps, skin flaky and white from years in a suspension fluid, and so many homeostatic systems had atrophied following decades of reliance on machines they would not be able to breathe on their own.

Kassyndra and Milaea’s extensive triage estimated it would take the better part of a year and weekly courses of intense shatter-point healing each to recover to a point they could be removed from the pods.  Prospects of mental recovery were still not able to be assessed, but it appeared, by and large, they were all in deep coma’s, only further recovery would allow them to learn more on their exact neurological state.

Grasping her wooden staff from next to her second set of clothes Karintha’s face twisted in frustration as she snapped it in half to relieve some of the annoyance she felt.

The reality was it would take much longer, they could not spare Milaea, Kassyndra, or anyone to focus solely on the twelve’s recovery for a whole year.  Nyaea and Xanaea were willing to help but too young inexperienced to perform such advanced healing, and worse their med-bays in Mount Aelia and two of their destroyers were now cluttered with the pods as there wasn’t room for all twelve in any one location adding logistical difficulties.

And then there was the need to arrange with the Chiss a drastic increase in synthesis nutrients to simply sustain let alone heal the Twelve. Maesons farm and Lydan’s herd could not even provide enough food for the People as they were, let alone to be liquefied and separated into fluids the Twelve could be intravenously fed with.

She had barely asserted her case for the Matriarchy and already she was beset by issues.

In addition to that, Maekal remained a troublingly wild brash fool, Evaea and Evyn difficult to pry out of their shells. 

And there was the Hecate

The Hecate, the fifth vessel in the Aethan fleet -  a Malefic Class Super Destroyer, twice the size of their existing Aertemisaea Class vessel with its own fully operational Obelisk Array onboard to teleport bombs directly onto enemy vessels while simultaneously sending mind shredding psionic attacks at an enemy crew...and of course serve as a mobile antenna to scout distant sectors more precisely than the current array on Aeda array could. 

Valens intent was to use the Hecate to traverse the main trade routes for signals, the larger vessel could store vastly more provisions and with its own array could get more precise reading undistorted by the tides of the Aether around the deep core, and less need to return to the Aethas system for supplies would cumulatively save months of travel time.

Her place as Matriarch was not yet solidified, only by guiding the People to solutions on these issues - or obtaining another definitive victory and rescue - could she do so.

Trudging toward the river she paused as the frustration peaked….it was at such times she needed Taran’s calming presence, or alternately fierce passion to direct her own energies to relieve other tensions.

She was beginning to regret not spending more time with him while they were together – they had not even lived together – like all marriages it was arranged to avoid inbreeding, and it had been stop/start at first, she was so busy raising her orphaned nieces Yorna and Kiraea…

Taran was unfailingly patient and supportive…yet even once they had truly found each other, she preferred her independence, content to have Taran remain a wandering Guardian visitng every few weeks rather than settling together -  let alone any children….

She exhaled deeply, a breath she never seemed to quite be rid of…she had lost any chance of children with Taran now…

No less relieved she refocused on the immediate needs of the People almost to distract her from the gnawing absence in her heart.

<<<<<>>>>

Jo Set Mack
It was strange being back here. 

The ship…apart from the settled dust of two years...was the same…Four-Eight powered down in the corner.

He had thought Li would demand the family ship off him when exiled…but she hadn’t.  A reminder of his family?…or of all he had done in his foolish pursuit of vengeance…

“Probably both…” he sighed brushing dust off the top of Four-Eights circular head,

“Time to wake up old friend,”

<<<<>>>>

“You have packed everything?”

“Everything,” He replied performing pre-flight checks, Jeisena still angry at the 8 hours he’d ‘wasted’ servicing and test flying to make sure the Rain Song was space worthy…he just couldn’t win sometimes…

“This ridiculous ship had better be safe…” she complained

That was why I just spent 8 damn hours checking…. he bit back

“It’s uncomfortable, get more rugs for the floor idiot,” she ordered Ulwyn in her lap on the deck, Dathomiri disliked furniture preferring the feel of the earth under them.

Fortunately he had packed extra just in case.

“Yes Mistress…”

It was going to be a long trip.

<<<<>>>>

The trip was, fortunately, not so difficult as he thought.  Ulwyn after playing with Four-Eight for a while, entranced by his multi-coloured main light and chasing him about soon fell asleep. Jeisena, who despised space travel spent most of her time in the refresher feeling queezy.

As he exited hyperspace the emerald and sapphire jewel of Dathomir filled the view port, covered in lush jungle and sparkling seas on this hemisphere it reminded him of some kind of garden paradise world.

Until the Force presence of the planet hit him fully.

His stomach lurched, reminding of what he felt…what he had done…on Ruusan.  A sickly treacle clung to his presence almost instantly, he couldn’t keep the disgust off his face as he approached signalling for the system traffic control.

There was no response.

“Does this place even have an orbital traffic management system…” he looked about the space between the two moons visible on this side of the planet.

“Or traffic at all…”

He couldn’t see anything in orbit, not even a Coaxium refuelling station, Jo vaguely recalled this was once the site of a prison of some kind.

Checking his scanner he could only pick up odd bits of detritus, noting active in orbit, only the sinking darkness growing as he approached.

“Where are you going Fool!” Jeisena snapped suddenly behind him
“I…don’t know I’m not getting any signals from traffic control,” he admitted

“Traffic control! Imbecile. Head there,” she pointed at the planet

“Uhhh….”

“Fool just follow my command clearly your power in the Arts has degraded if you can’t sense it,”

Her prompts took the Rain Song round in a descending arc to the night side of the planet, partially lit by another of the four moons.  Darkness rising with each kilometer .

Descending on the night side he spied pyres – not flood lights – but pyres burning in the midst of an arid looking expanse near a mountain black as the Force.

“Land there…” Jeisena ordered pointing to the blazing fires below, an instant later Ulwyn cried having woken up…if there was one thing Jo never doubted it was that Jeisena was a good and attentive mother, always intuiting Ulwyns needs.

There was no landing pad, just a vast open area with two other ships he could barely make out, certainly there would be no refuelling or gas exchange facilities…whether this was because they didn’t have any or didn’t want anyone staying long – or leaving - he was uncertain.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” he noted to Four-Eight whose head swivelled about his main bulb glowing dim yellow

“Take care of the ship…maybe check that channel to M’Tzigon is still active…”

Stretching as he got out of the pilots seat he wandered to the hold where Jeisena was partly undressed changing her clothes, struggling to get into an old hide top, likely that which she had fled Dathomir in 20 years and a baby before.

“You’re not going to wear that, put on something less…something else.” She snapped not even looking up.

He looked at his regular outfit, simple pants, shirt and jacket,

“I don’t have much else…”

“Fool, do you want me to be embarrassed, something natural or at least touched by magick”

Magick, or Arts her word for the Force made it click, clearly she was trying to dress for the occasion, yet most of his clothes were synthetic of some kind except for…

“I don’t have anything else,”

She paused struggling to pull up half shorts made of an odd type of leather, looked at him, then letting the shorts dropped stepped forward.

And slapped him across the face.

“You dare lie to me, change, now!”

I’m not…I can’t….but it’s just clothes…but I don’t deserve…

Her eyes bored into him,

“Boottsss” Ulwyyn suddenly interrupted toying with Jeisensa’s rancor hide boots.

Dropping his head Jo relented heading to the small cabin.  There beneath the bed, untouched for too long were his formal Mak’Tor robes.  A natural hardy cotton he had last worn them…

When he was a Knight worthy of them…

Jo ran his hand across the cold fabric, grey and white tunic on top of the darker grey robes, saber quietly hidden beneath.

Designed to match Ho’Li’s, for their knighting, he recalled Li saying he almost looked like a real knight – it was a joke then.

A premonition now.

Grabbing a fist of fabric he relented to pretending to be worthy of the robes once more.

<<<<>>>>

Based on the rotation Jo had noted they were close to dawn, a thin halo of orange about distant mountains beyond a sea of swamp land and gnarled trees, behind them the mountain he had seen standing alone on the dusty plain.  In the yellow of the pyres leading up a processional he could make out a few lights in the mountain…it had been carved inside out as a fortress.

Stepping onto the marshy ground he felt the full weight of the Dark side the planet was infused….memories of the Darkness he had drunk in at Ruusan gurgled with the bile at his throat.

From the shadows figured resolved, covered in scaly hide armour, hollowed skulls of Canis genus species of some kind for helmets, faces covered by blood red veils, glinting white eyes visible.

“Who seeks an audience,” a harsh voice came from one and none of them wooden spears festooned with feathers and bones, tipped with sharpened stone spear heads dried blood visible in grooves in the blade.

“Jeisena Hri, Daughter of Julwyyn of the Whistling Caverns, I seek permission to return to my ancestral lands and name my daughter Ulwyn.”

There was a tense pause.

“You may make your request.”

<<<<>>>>

Jo would not forget the processional to the mountain - lined by torches, and spears – a head, or three on each.

Poles affixed with rotting bodies intermittently, each showing signs of severe trauma before they had been impaled, heads of Rancors larger than Jo imagined lying rotten and empty.

A graveyard of a vast battle had been placed into two neat rows along the path to the Mountain.  Jo knew Dathomiri society could be brutal, this seemed less intimidation than sadistic glee in the hideous positioning of the bodies.

Even Jeisena seemed disgusted, covering Ulwyn’s head with a blanket. 

At the foot of the mountain the cave was a Skull shaped maw inviting them in with the promise of death, fires glowing in the carved eyes even as more bodies dangled from the chiselled cheek bones on hideous hooks.

Everything he had seen was reason for a Mak’tor to oppose whomever was responsible.

But I’m not a Mak’tor…never truly was…

A row of guards in similar attire stood in front of the cavern as Jeisena strode up, again covered with fetishes and carved skulls, they proved Nightsisters reputation as for involvement in macabre Force Magicks - but this Jo thought - had to be excessive even for them.

They allowed them in wordlessly, Jeisena seeming to know where to head without instruction through caves lit by ensconced candles, to large wooden doors that defied Jo as to how they got them in through the tunnels.

“Wait here, look after Ulwyn,” she pushed her into his arms.

“Don’t speak or move,”

Without warning the doors opened, he spied little more than a tattered red carpet leading to a throne of basalt before they closed.

<<<<>>>

Shuffling uncomfortably on a stone bench in his robes as Ulwyn pointed and inquired about the doors, once, then twice, then every few minutes

“Where’s mama?”

“She went in there for a little while she’ll be back soon,”

“Oh…where’s mama?”

“She’ll be back soon darling…”

“Oh…mmm….Where’s mama?”

Where is Mama indeed… he didn’t have a watch but it had to have been at least an hour, perhaps she too was waiting for an audience. 

“Mama will be back soon, how about a song,”

“Song! Song!”

He smiled and began to hum, only when Jeisena was away did he dare use a Mak’Tor melody or tell stories of En’ri, A’dam and the Hawk bat.

Ulwyn sat happily toying with the edges of his robe, seemingly unphased by the dark side here…whether that was cause for worry or not he didn’t know, still he added a touch of the Force to his song, a settling motif Odjina had used with him, Ho’Li and Li as children.

Ulwyn reacted quite happily trying to hum along smiling up at him.

These were the moments he lived for now, so long as he could have just a little time with his…

“AAAAHH!”

Ulwyn screeched as an all too familiar vice like grip lifted Jo by the throat.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 07, 2021, 10:46:37 PM
Chapter 35 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  By Her Will— Part 3
Jo Set Mack
As tenderly as it handed Ulwyn to Jeisena it violently threw Jo to the floor before Lykana’s throne.

As Jeisena checked on her baby Jo gasped for air, visibly shaking as Lykana’s Daemon, the Varangian they called it, strode up the throne toward her.

Lykana had been older than Jeisena when she fled Dathomir…but only ten years, and whilst Jeisena knew she’d aged in the twenty five some years since, Lykana looked exactly the same

She had been shocked seeing her on the throne of Skull and Stone, white face paint with red patterns indicating her status, dominant and powerful, tomes on pedestals proudly displayed about the throne room showing her learning in the Arts.

Jeisena had hoped the Varangian might’ve died since she’d left…no such luck - it had found her chattel being disobedient.

“What did you do fool!” Jeisena screeched at Jo as he struggled to get up, doing her best to pre-empt any punishment Lykana had in mind with her own, hoping the Queen would respect her ownership of Jo.

Lykana noted the attempt as the Varangian whispered in her ear what had transpired.

Slowly Jo lifted his head to see his surrounds. A natural opening poured dawn's light into the throne room, large woven tapestries showed a female figure and a large male shadow ‘unifying’ Dathomir and punishing the disobedient in blue fire.

Past the red processional carpet were steps to a vast Throne of stone inlaid with skulls on the arm rests and around a crested back piece that turned to wings, no doubt representing the Dathomiri’s Winged Goddess.  The steps up he now saw had sharp teeth carved in…the Fanged God, represented below the goddess.

On the throne was a woman of sinister beauty, white made up face, red intricate lines on her cheeks, full brown hair, dark power radiating off her...and yet…it was not that which took Jo’s attention but the enormous creature whispering to her.

His armour was metal and bone. The main chest piece was a Ssurian skull – a Damthomiri great dragon famed for its sharp teeth and thick hides, said teeth poked from the scaly hide along the warriors arms, to get too close risked being lacerated by the armour itself. There were other skulls of creatures Jo didn’t recognise on his knees and shoulders, doubtless symbolic, but the ones he did about the warriors ‘belt’ were human – mouldy and yellowed they bore inscriptions carved into the bones, incantations and spells.

It’s presence was not like anything else he had felt on Dathomir thus far – as foreign as Jo himself, out of place, yet too easily acclimatised, powerful and deep, a strength Jo had prayed on his knees to never feel again…

Yet the most terrifying thing was the warriors face.

Empty, soulless, more statue than man.

“Well answer maleling!” Jeisena screamed as Ulwyn looked confused clinging to her mother.

“I didn’t….”

“He used the arts…” a crystal voice that had to be the ‘Queens’ came

“My Varangian thought it an attack…” Lykana rose her tight and revealing dress pure Vril-silk dyed red in the blood of her enemies as she descended the Varangian on her heels toward the male as she lifted him to a standing position with her magick.

“Well Hri it seems you found yourself a…not inadequate…male to breed with…” Lykana ran her hand under Jo’s chin, long nails indifferently cutting him, she licked the trickling blood off her fingers.

“An interesting lineage at that…how did you enthral him?

Jeisena sniffed indignantly

“This dullard came to me even after he had sired my daughter, strong in body dim in wit, feel free to use him as you please,”

Were Jo not terrified by the Warrior beside Lykana – the ‘Varangian’ - he might’ve felt hurt by Jeisena so openly willing to trade him off…they might not be ‘together’ in the conventional sense, but they still had sex when she desired it, and he felt loyalty to the mother of his child however she treated him.

“hmmm…we can always use new blood…” Lyakana’s dark eyes stared straight into Jo’s, knowing it was not fitting to lock her gaze he lowered his in subservience

“Well taught….” Reaching outward Lykana pushed into the malelings soul, revelling in the fear she…

Wait…

He feared yes…but not Her…what kind of fool did not fear the Dread Queen of Dathomir!!!…instead he feared…

the Varangian…he fears the Varangian but not me…what has he seen…what does he know!

Jo felt the press into his mind, he could resist, but if he did…what would happen to Jeisena and Ulwyn…and if he didn’t….

“What do you know maleling tell ME!” Lykana suddenly shrieked, Jeisena quickly shielding Ulwyn not understanding what was happening, nor how her maleling could cause such anxiety in the Dread Queen.

“Only this…” Jo hissed between his teeth allowing himself to recall things that would forever taint his soul for Lykana to see.

“…if you think you can control that Thing you’re insane,”

…lighting flew from his hands, Jo felt himself caught mid-air…five onto one they should’ve been able to win….the power of the dark side flowing through him…he’d sold his soul and it still wasn’t enough to beat Valens

He’s done it now… Jeisena thought, to insult the Queen to her face…

Yet Lykana only paused, the flashes of memory from Jo in her mind of creatures like the Varangian…armed with weapons and abilities she would trade half her life to possess.

Finally steadying she spoke.

“I should have your tongue ripped out for such insolence…but I am feeling merciful…Go Jeisena Hri, return to the Whistling Caverns and perform your Rites…then leave and do not return.”

<<<<>>>>

“Who are you?”

Her words clear and firm broke the silence as they sat back in the Rain song Jo’s head still spinning from Lykana’s delve.

“You already know…” he replied

“Do I…Do I truly?” Jeisena sneered, “It seems Lykana now knows more than I do Gray…what did you do, what did you see,”

Jo pursed his lips, she had never shown interest in him before, even those first months slowly gaining her trust while she was pregnant, not even allowed to live in the same building, bringing her vitamins and food every day and threatened with a spear for it…and now she wanted to know…

But he didn’t want to tell, he’d had enough reminders of all he had done today…

“Tell me Gray, or I will…”

“Leave with Ulwyn and I’ll never see here again, I know, I’ve heard it a thousand times and it hurts!”

The only one more shocked at the outburst than Jeisena was Jo himself

“I hate that you use her as a pawn, that you think you need to coerce me, whip me like some disobedient Rancor you’re riding…”

He waited for the slap, or a violent scratch across his face.

None came

“You want to know…well you know I was a Gray Jedi, I was looking for someone when we met, the person who murdered my sister, my master who was like a father to me, I did everything I could to get revenge, I betrayed my cousin, abandoned my niece for it, sold my very soul and betrayed every oath I’d made to the Dark side…and all I got…”

His robes felt heavy and out of place upon him.

“…all I got was beaten to a millimetre of my life, then watched helpless as creatures more powerful than any I’ve ever known, Aetherians we called them, it took Mak’Tor, Jedi, a Sith and the Makers mercy to beat them…”

He pointed to the ramp

“And your Queen, that guard of hers is one of them, how she controls it, I don’t know, but…it will break free one day and when it does…”

<<<<>>>>

Lykana

It was meant to be a simple audience, permission for a naming as she had a hundred times before, her power on display in controlling the life events of her subjects.

Instead it left Lykana rattled.

Descending into the depths of her fortress she paused out of breath at the threshold to her Sanctum.

She had known there were others like the Varangian – the Gamorreans had to have brought him and the other male bodies from somewhere…but what this Jo Set Mack had seen…

She could only console herself with the knowledge that so far as Jo’Set’Mack knew all the others were dead.

Even so…she needed to be certain of her control…reassert her authority – such was what it was to be Queen, she could never go a day without showing her power was still intact and growing.

“Undress and lie down” she ordered her thrall.

As he had so many times he obeyed without question.

Normally she would perform the Binding once a week

Week…it used to be each season…then each new moon…now each week

Either she was getting weaker, or he was getting stronger. Most likely both

Onto the carved altar he lay, body still as strong and firm as when she first beheld it covered in blood.

Affixing the restraints she began to mutter the incantations of Binding and Suppression, the skulls of other witches embedded around the room dimly glowing as she soaked the last of their power…soon she would need more.

The words, the motions she knew by heart…it had been difficult the first time, new and draining.

After the Varangian had fallen at her feet she had taken him to Steadfast Peak, tended to his wounds – the body rapidly healed of its own accord drawing the magick from the air voraciously to do so.

She had wanted him then…not so much as a mate as a tool, a living weapon.  No one could stand against such a being in single combat, the whole of the planet could be hers.

Back then the Sanctum was still filled with many of her Mothers old things, while her cousins Lyra and Lxa changed bandages, filled cuts with medicinal herbs and forced water down his throat she had prepared what she needed – the Stuff of Life.

Then it had been the bodies the gamorreans had brought with him, those she ordered originally now set to work for something so much more than mere study…

Now it was the dead witches and women of tribes that had opposed her in the years since, jars of blood of those with the Arts carefully sealed along the wall.

Covering the body with blood she chanted dipping her fingers into the ichor, green smoke hissing from the bowl as it glowed with energy eaten from the dead. 

The first time her cousins had to hold him down, still groggy from his wounds they jabbed needles coated with paralysing venoms into his chest…most broke against inhumanly hard skin, those that pierced had limited effect.

Then as now he began to writhe at the liminal moment.

This was the point of danger where for a brief moment he was fully conscious, soul free of the chains of her bewitchment before it was locked back in ever more tightly.

The first time he had cried and scratched, hurling off her cousin’s into the wall…this time he was fixed by proper restraint, forged specifically for him by the greatest blacksmiths among the Clans…he was wearing them thin.

Ichor spun green as her hands lit blue over the red of blood on his body, the catalyst allowing her power to more easily flow into overwhelm him. 

Her tongue twisted the heinous words in the old tongues of sorcery, her head felt taught…every time this ritual took more out of her…she could feel the masque of her youth slip from her.

The use of such magick as was needed to bind him was draining and damaging, combined with her other Arts she had aged unnaturally.  To compensate she would have her Reapers abduct orphan children for Renewal rituals.

It was a poison chalice.  The more magick she used to keep herself young, the more she damaged herself, needing ever more Renewal rituals to make up the loss.

She knew she could not last forever….

The moment was approaching, she could feel the screaming, clawing anger of the Varangian’s true soul waking from its slumber…she needed keep the liminal moment short as possible – if he were allowed to gather his thoughts and regain consciousness he was extremely difficult to suppress – a few times over the years he nearly broke free…but each time her will prevailed.

The room was full of ichor smoke now, her hands burning with the energy that wrapped around his head, her throat dry from so much chanting.

With an invisible burst the old Binding was loosed, she began clamping the new.

He had moments…if that…how long between sleeps he never knew…only that he would wake briefly then be sent under by the weight of this deceptive woman’s power…he thought she was aiding him after escaping the goblins…instead she sought to enthral him…as a Guardian he had training to resist such…but so far it never seemed enough.   

He had memories, fleeting images of events seen through his eyes, blood, waiting, crushing, fighting…were these things he had done under her power in his slumber?

Yet…there was a memory this time…a man with memories of his own Jo Set Mack…who somehow recognised him…he had seen People before…he had seen…


He was waking…lock by lock she closed off his mind from his body, left leg ceased its tremors, right hand stopped clenching…she needed to break that bond first to ensure he did not escape then she could take more time with the mind binding once the body was suppressed…yet seemed different.

She had seen something through this Jo Set Mack…something different…the crushing chains wrapped tighter, but he could use them…so large was the chain that she could not notice every subtle trail he mentally followed up it…in her recent memory, tickling at the edge…and….

There…

An image from Jo Set to Lykana now to himself…Valens…this Jo Set had seen young Valens…no not young anymore…a grown man, powerful and capable...and others, Jarys…and his niece Kiraea! Adults all now…

How much time had he been under this haze of possession?!

But…Jo Set saw them die…

That could not be…these three were Guardians…one alone these outsiders might overcome, as his own enthrallment was proof, but three Guardians grown to maturity after the Devastation…no…Taran could not believe it


“AH!” she shrieked…the deceptive creature was looking in her mind…she breathed heavily, breast wilting under the strain pushing him back out.

An opening…even as she pushed him out he fled back only to throw out a thought into the aether, a thought as loud as he could think.

By the THREE GODDESSES I AM HERE


A final furious surge of power shut his mind away in its cage, the body slumped over the altar as the skulls and totems around him cracked drained of all power, ichor dust devoid of the energy flaking the air.

Lykana dropped to her knees, hands withered and aged…trembling and burnt…

That had been too close…Hri…that had to be it…her chattels memories of others must’ve set the Varangian off somehow…the bitch.

Lykana needed to accelerate her plans, she could not keep doing this every week.

Slowly rising as the smoke hissed off her body the Varangian returned to its servile state awaiting orders.

Hand barely strong enough she pulled a small bell to summon Lxa, only her cousins would attend her Sanctum though were no longer permitted entry.

“Prepare my bath…and three sacrifices…”

There was a pause.

“Cousin we’ve only four left….”

“Then have Lyra get MORE!”

“Yes my Queen,” she heard the swift footsteps depart, reminding her that Hri must’ve likely left by now for the Whistling Caverns

“One more thing,”

“Yes Dread Queen?”

“Kill that Hri bitch and bring her child and mate to me for sacrifice.”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on June 14, 2021, 06:12:37 PM
And so we finally catch up with Taran.

The fact that he's still alive (well, relatively speaking) is going to be a pleasant surprise/horrific shock to Karintha when she learns of his survival...but with him as the thrall of an insane, omnicidal Dathomiri witch--whose magicks have enslaved him to her--is bound to come to a head once he is forced into confrontation between his former wife and his current domina.  Excellent conflict: which will ultimately win out, Nature vs. Nurture vs. Anti-nurture?  Normally, I'd put money on Aethan hormones, but with the Dathomir magicks reinforced by the planet/rituals/environment while simultaneously repressing all others--to say nothing of over 25 years of captivity!--Taran/the Varangian might become the worst failed rescue in an already long string of failures for the Aethans.

Karintha might well regret ever pursuing the role of Matriarch...

It was a pleasant surprise to see Jo'Set again!  It was equally surprising to learn that he'd accepted his diminished role as a subservient male to the Dathomir witch (4th-class citizens in the best of times; chattel for the women in the worst).  But it makes sense: Jo still retains some of the Mak'Tor honor and--more importantly--ALL of the Mak'Tor guilt/shame for his actions.  And there is still some small, perhaps even infinitesimal chance that his child will know something of Jo's legacy.  Speaking of...

But when these two threads collide, there WILL be the expected violence inherent of BOTH the Aethans and Jo'Set's actions.  The question now becomes: what will become of these two?  Can either find a modicum of happiness and/or peace OR are they already damned by their past/the Will of the Force/the judgment of the Maker/the plans of the Goddesses?  Perhaps a combination of the above; perhaps none.

It certainly begs the question: will Jo'Set once again take up his vendetta despite his claims and realizations that his abilities were not sufficient to the task?  After all, what he lacked in raw power, he made up for it with dogged determination.  Personally, I think that fatherhood--regardless of how "involved" he's been allowed to be--has changed him, and for the better.

Of course, I've been wrong before  ;)

Regardless, whatever reckoning is coming for everyone involved, I think that it will be momentous.

...And it will hurt^^


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 15, 2021, 12:44:18 AM
Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 1
Yorna
The entire Array room was buzzing with the aether.

Seven enormous Obelisks now stood proud, Adaea’s tireless efforts had finished the latest a mere week ago with Aresaea and Milaea’s assistance, Yorna hoped to assist with the eighth.

They pulsed with energy as they took in and amplified aetheric signals from across the galaxy, filtered through Orb pedestals to the Observatory. 

Today the Obelisk facility was being used for training, Ari and Yorna tasked with hunting down Evyn who in turn was to place and arm faux explosives.

Yorna hadn’t worked much with Aresaea before -Ari seemed to spend most of her time with Milaea - so much in time in fact Yorna and everyone else were beginning to suspect yet they were far more than friends. 

They had been working well together, deactivating three detonators seeking fourth, even if Evyn with his Cloak of Shadow ability remained elusive.

In the Array room the sheer messiness of the Aether made it almost unusable for all but the bluntest of techniques, Evyn’s Cloak of Shadow technique would be nigh impossible…an obvious place for him to hide if he intended a double bluff.

Yorna walked backward, back pressed against Ari’s to ensure they had a 360 view, the technique used by Chiss ODSC’s…Yorna was as nervous as she was eager about going to the Chiss Academy with Ari, Karintha, Lydan, Jenaea, Kassyndra, Evyn, Evaea, Taryn and Maekal, overseen by Valens.

<Anything?> Ari queried telepathically
<Nothing> Yorna replied, eyes sweeping around for anything out of place…not an easy task when bolts of pure aetheric energy from bursts lightyears away periodically snapped off the Obelisks and down to the Bloodstone earthing panels.

They moved cautiously but quickly round each obelisk in turn before heading to the four voids awaiting new Obelisks.

<There> Yorna said, in the deep hollow was a slight mound barely visible in the blue flickering lights.

<I’ll cover,> Ari confirmed positing at the edge of the hole as Yorna silently dropped down.

Hands running along the ground her finger passed over known divots and holes where earthing cables and conduits were yet to be connected till finger tips brushed a blocky warm compound explosive.

Recalling her lessons from Selaena she traced the wires and circuitry to determine priming, redundancies and failsafe’s.  Mere seconds later her slim multitool redirected electron flows to keep the circuit live as she removed surge detectors and electromagnetic scanners.

<Wait there is…> 

With a buffeting crash Ari slammed into the wall of the hollow gripping her stomach, her landing barely controlled.

Evyn had struck.

Yorna had two conscious levels focused on disarming the bomb, two seeking Evyn, and two to forming protective barriers around herself and Ari.

Ari was soon up, tensed she leapt up…just as a slab of metal fell over top of the hole.

With an undignified crash Ari’s head hit the top of the metal sending her back down again.

<Clever! He cloaked the slab of metal too…> Yorna noted with a hint of a smile as Ari shook off the flicker of red damage sense.

<Painfully clever> With a flick of her wrist Ari began to lift the metal - expecting resistance Yorna was surprised at how quickly it flew off as she disabled the last failsafe…now using techniques Kiraea had taught her she twisted a strand of pure aetheric energy thinner than her hair frying the entire  web of circuits in a nanosecond.

Leaping out of the hollow in time with Ari, covering themselves and each other in a quad layer of kinetite shielding.

She suddenly felt she had fallen into a trap as they landed to see Evyn standing across the room, completely uncloaked at an orb pedestal.

Without waiting she threw out a tentative aetheric grip

“Wait!” Evyn called batting the preliminary blast to the side “You need to hear this!”

<<<<>>>>

The signal had come through just after Evyn had tried to trap them in the sixth Obelisk hollow, just strong enough for him to hear amidst the swirling vortex of aetheric signals in the array filtered through the Orb Platform.

The training session suspended Ari guided them on how to better filter the signal, fingers lit by blue energy worked carefully to screen out background noise.

“That should be done…” Ari noted giving a final check.

With a gentle stroke of the orb they activated the message.

By the THREE GODDESSES I AM HERE[

Frantic and desperate Yorna nearly reeled back.

“Another survivor…” Ari said her brow furrowed,
“Under much duress…” Evyn added
“We have to trace it back immediately,”

Yorna understood the process even if she hadn’t performed it yet, like triangulation, each of the Obelisks received the same signals but at fractionally different times, they could use that information to determine where it emanated from on the aetheric plane then scry out the galactic plane correlation.

“Evyn inform the others, Yorna and I will trace the signal,”
A soundless nod and the younger man slipped out.

“Ready for this?” Ari asked,
“Ready.”

Gripping the pedestal hand holds tightly as the Message in her mind Yorna tugged at the Obelisks short term memory to pin the slight difference when the signal had been received, as she did so Ari brought up the multi-coloured Aetheric Map of the galaxy. 

Still incomplete, with every Obelisk it grew sharper – areas around aetherically charged world such as Ziost, Ossus, Dormund Kaas and Korriban were near crystal,  blobs of light signalled places with many living creatures – not just Coruscant or Corellia where beings numbered in the trillions, but Dagobah and Myrkr.

Five thin lines traced from their location in roughly the centre of the map to an area to the galactic north east.

“Good, try and strengthen the lines…”

Each of the five took up an entire level of conscious thought to hold, such was the complexity of the co-ordinates and shifting motions of aetheric signals arc like radiation waves across half a galaxy. 

She felt Ari’s touch on her last remaining level of consciousness, Yorna allowed her in, the mapping was simply too complex for just one Person to perform now, when they had all nine Obelisks four People would be needed, but the process would be faster and more accurate.

The map zoomed as Ari focused on where the lines converged.

“Outer rim,” Ari noted her knowledge of stellar cartography far greater than Yorna’s

“There a blip of energy…green, filled with life…but shaded dark and bloody too…”

Ari looked about for nearby aetheric signatures to get her bearings cross referencing it against an old map Kazic had given her that showed star systems of great import for the Force criss-crossed by Fate Lines. 

He’d told her it had been made aeons ago by an Anzat based on the ‘Grand Daen Nosi’ that was believed to flow through the galaxy, Ari had been fascinated and hung the map on a wall in her room…wondering which if any of those planets her People had been from.

“Actually near Yavin…relatively…and if that Red, war like energy is Mandalore that would make this location….”

Her lips pursed as she came to her conclusion

“Dathomir…”

<<<<>>>>

“We will descend like Angels and overawe the natives with our glorious Light, then they shall submit in all humility!” Maekal said excitedly as Valens rolled his eyes…

Within half an hour all the People had linked via their link-orbs in discussion at this new find.

“Dathomir is a dangerous place, even the Jedi give the witches there a wide berth,” Valens noted more calmly from the Steppe where he was attempting to train Maekal.

“If one of ours is trapped there…” he paused

“It will be more difficult to infiltrate than Galtea was, there is limited space traffic, few if any off worlders, widely dispersed mono-cultural tribes, not like the Vhal’Dan where we could blend in the mix of species of cultures in a city of millions.”

“Regardless of the difficulty we must investigate,” Karintha said firmly beside Kiraea who was still recovering from her unborn child’s loss, emotionally if not physically.

“Of course this will require us to set back our efforts with the Twelve, the Hecate and Obelisk array, but...they can at least wait, this Person might not be able to,”

“I’ll go,” Jarys said beside Yorna, a few pink lines still marringhis features from his battle with Vzin Kree,

“Scout the location, I can blend into the forests there,”

“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” Sofa countered
“These witches are matriarchal, even more than us as I understand it, if they catch a man sneaking around alone…”

The word Matriarch caught Karintha’s attention.

“Sofa is correct,” Melron agreed Taryn and Lyaea beside him, “Only women should got at first, they will have higher standing in negotiating and better chance of gleaning information,”

“I volunteer to lead the expedition,” Karintha seized her chance

“If these witches are like you say I am best placed to deal with them, naturally Evaea as my ward will come with me”

“Milaea and I will come too,” Ari speaking again for herself and Milaea as if they were one, Sofa suddenly had a sly smile and shared a knowing look with Lyaea,

“That’s four,” Valens agreed, his role as Warchief giving approval to the plan.

“But I think more should go, Kiraea?,”

Still somewhat smouldering rather than blazing she shrugged compliance

“I’ll come too” Yorna added excitedly, trying to instil more fire into her biological sister.

“I would be interested as well,” Kassyndra added her fingers flicking on a datapad no doubt filled with information on Dathomir
“If we can establish good relations with these witches…we could learn much about their magick, craft and culture…I think there is much we have in common.”

“That is seven, take the Persephaea” Valens confirmed then paused to think

“There is a planet near there…Wayland a rainforest world with interesting species…Brother, Melron, we can take the younger men to train with the Aephrodaea, If anything goes wrong we will only be a few hours jump away,”

A brief annoyance that no one but her nieces could sense flashed through Karintha, as if she took insult at Valens positioning himself to re-enforce her if necessary.

Considering the danger the galaxy posed to People Yorna felt only comforted …

She would need to speak much with her aunt…
<<<<>>>>

Jo Set Mack
After only an hour his back and rear were sore.

The Bolma he rode reminded him of a dewback with stubby eye stalks.  He had to trade a few battery packs for the privilege of hiring the smelly cantankerous creatures, credits of no use whatsoever here.

It was not ‘fitting’ to take the Rain Song to the Whistling Caverns for Ulwyns naming, instead they were up for a three week trek from Blood Peak to the caverns to the north east.

Jo was seriously considering walking if this was how much his butt hurt riding.

That was the least of his worries…he only had one week off from work…he would have to do a whole string of mind tricks to cover this time…and then there was Jeisena…

On the Bolma just up ahead, UIwyn on a special child’s saddle that had cost a pair of his better shoes was merrily laughing and pointing at sights along the way as Jeisena whispered and coddled her…and then threw a bladed backward glance at him.

She was still angry about the incident with Lykana, his past…as if somehow that put into question everything he had done for her these last five years.

…compared to the icy stares he would welcome her slapping him or demanding he undertake some other ugly task to appease her…though considering the lack of any refresher or running water he suspected he would be under taking many ugly tasks very soon.

The sun high there was little foliage for shade on the road from Blood Peak…he now regretted not trading for one of the large wide brimmed hats he had seen in the market as his skin reddened and throat dried.

Had he known this was what Jeisena intended he could’ve bought a few dozen packs of batteries and electric torches to trade with the Dathomirians who either seemed entranced or utterly disgusted by anything from off world – obviously it was the former he traded with.

As they plodded he noted the traffic going the other way, large caravans of Bolma stacked with goods, woven baskets full of grain and fruits, metal cages holding exotic animals that he overheard Jeisena telling Ulwyn about - Rhoa Kwi, Nydak or Malkloc…

In addition to Rancors Dathomir was home to innumerable fearsome reptiles…but why these were all being taken in chains to Blood Peak had him perplexed until….

Until he saw other wooden cages full of sunken eyed resigned men and women curled in foetal positions, escorted by the feather and skull covered ‘Reapers’ brandishing whips and force pikes. 

Behind them men carrying loads of ores, metals and other valuables on their shoulders, backs showing new and long since healed whip scars.

A tribute procession the likes of which he only read about in texts of ancient societies, the men used as slave labour openly, yet even some of the women riding high on rancors and Bolma’s had a down cast look behind their ace paint and unique outfits indicating they came from different climatic regions of Dathomir…

All were paying tribute to Lykana.

“What are you staring at now fool!” Jeisena broke into his observations.

“Just…looking,”

“Well don’t it’s none of our business you’ve caused enough problems. Ride ahead and find a place to camp, I want food ready when I get there and a comfortable mattress for Ulwyn,”

She tenderly stroked the young girl’s hair
“We’ve had a long day haven’t we little River Sprite,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 15, 2021, 12:47:13 AM
Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 2
Jo Set Mack
(https://i.ibb.co/t2WG6yF/Dathomir-Jo-s-Path.png)
Whether it was good enough or not he would soon find out…it was the only place he could find.

By the side of the road he found a small travellers rest with a dozen or so wagons, a few throw up stalls and hide tents about a large well.

Staking out a place he again had to trade for what he needed, this time his watch and spare belt…fortunately the belt was extendable and featured an electric tightening mechanism making it a curiosity to the Obese woman trader…said woman of course would not deal with a male like him directly, having a male slave as scrawny as she was voluptuous act as go between.

Was that to be his fate too, a worn husk of a man servile beneath a Dathomiri woman? 

Surely a Mak’tor Knight wouldn’t put up with such treatment, wouldn’t stand idly by while he saw caravan after caravan of chain linked bare foot slaves plod sun baked roads toward a Dread Queen who ruled with Dark Force Magick.

He should be doing something, fighting oppression not giving into it…it would be what Odjina would’ve done.

As the sun painted purple on the horizon above tips of distant mountains Jeisena finally arrived, Ulwyn dozing on her lap.

Without a word he wandered over to help her down then tied off the Bolma as she lay Ulwyn down in the tent.

“You did something right for once idiot,” Jeisena huffed

“Get me food and water then I will sleep, you will stay here tonight and make sure no one steal the Bolma,”

Jo merely nodded compliance.

An hour later he took up a spot on a rock beside the Bolma, their cud chewing breath wafting over him as he hummed an awareness motif to say alert…that the rock he sat on didn’t judder like the Bolma seemed the only scrap of comfort he would find for a long time.

<<<<>>>>

Eyes vacantly took in the motion of the stars overhead as night turned to day, traders broke camp before dawns first rays, groups of tribute payers unhappily rising for the next day of their journey toward handing over their valuables to the Dread Queen.

He took it in absently, sabre in his lap…a weapon he had no right to carry…but he was so disgraced one more dishonour to his heritage could hardly hurt.

It seemed as if…

“GAAH!”

He suddenly jumped up as a plump pallid white face with big blue eyes jumped in front of him.

“ahahha!” Ulwyn laughed

“Boo! Ahahaha”

Blinking out the disorientation from red eyes he looked around to see Jeisena smiling for once behind her own white and black painted face as Ulwyn ran up and hugged her leg.

“I scared him mama!”

“You did, now stand still” Jeisena knelt down and applied more of the white paste to Ulwyn’s face. 

Jo knew she would get offended if he asked, but from what he had seen many tribes used white or red as a base face paint, then black or orange lines to detonate rank and family…if he had to guess pure white represented Ulwyn being an as yet unnamed child waiting to receive clan symbols like those Jeisena now wore.

“Hurry and get the Bolma ready, we have a long days ride ahead,” she added.

And so they did.

For the next six days in fact.

Swamps turned to grass, grass to fields and patches of forest, men harvesting and planting, felling trees, rarely a woman in sight to watch them, they had accepted their subservience, or knew no other life.

Occasionally he would see a woman riding a rancor followed by men trudging behind, making him thankful Jeisena had not forced him to walk…until another sharp bump from the Bolma’s trudging shot through his lower back.

They passed small hamlets, this was one of the more ‘settled’ regions of Dathomir compared to the clan’s further out, with stone houses and large clay granaries dotted around windmills and row after row of yellow wheats.

Jo could feel the beneath the rural idyll undercurrents of fear and desperation.  The people here knew Blood Peak and its Dread Queen were watching them.

Soon even these hamlets faded…along with his jacket and multi-tool…traded for more ‘fitting’ clothes, a rough smock, and provisions.

They encountered fewer and fewer other travellers as they reached the forests bordering the mountains, paths overgrown and winding, the sound of birds and insects constant.

“Keep your wits about you Gray,” Jeisena noted leading the way.
“There are dangers in the forest, bandits and wild beasts…”

and no doubt it’s up to me protect you both….

Again he fingered his sabre.  The only other weapon was a small holdout blaster strapped under his now sweat and dirt stained shirt…he was not permitted to bathe in any of the small pools or rivers they’d passed, he kept watch while Jeisena and Ulwyn did, and Jeisena certainly wasn’t wasting time waiting for him to clean himself.

Walking along beneath an arch of leafy branches, red plumed Veeka chirping up above as he led the Bolma to give it a rest from carrying him, he felt this might have been a nice trek for a family holiday…

Li and Ha’Ona would like this forest

He often wondered how they were, what they were doing…was Li still Kage, had she finally gotten together with Anson D’Aklon…was Ha’Ona training to be a Knight? 

He would never know, Li had made it clear communication would be one way, and it was not to be him who initiated it.

Breathing out worry he let his mind wander, taking in the living force all about.  Phaeda had some nice parks, plenty of farms, but nothing quite like this, so much life all about…dangerous…but Alive….he could almost hear the rhythms beneath, the Song that underpinned all life, moulding and guiding everything, keeping harmony…

He closed his eyes – for a moment reaching out as far as his senses could, felt the Veeka flying, the Verne galloping, somewhere in the distance some other humans watching…

Watching…with intent…violence… as suddenly as he sensed it they pulled back and his eyes opened.

Was someone watching them…or was it just some hunters in the woods?

“Fool come here!” Jeisena called up ahead
“Stop lagging you useless dullard or you’ll feel the whip once more,”

whip? as often as he’d been slapped, kicked and punched Jeisena had never used a weapon to punish him, coming up over a rise following his voice he saw why.

At the top of the rise was a stone archway decorated in red bloody banners frayed by wind, rain and animals, beside it a wooden guard house where Women marked with Lykana’s symbols waited, a tingle in his spine drew his eyes up where he saw quick moving silhouettes in the trees…archers no doubt.

“This is him,” Jeisena said to one of the warriors whose headdress was bigger, and facial paintings larger than the others indicating a higher rank.

“And that is all?” the Guard said in a gruff voice

“That is all,” Jeisena confirmed

“Go then,” the Guard sniffed.

Jeisena nodded and flicked the straps to usher her Bolma forward through the stone gate.

Keeping his eyes low he followed…just before he reached the gate the Guard woman spat on him.

“Off world filth, you demean yourself mating with such, the Whistling Caverns will never accept you as chief,”

Chief?

A few hundred metres down the road he climbed back on the Bolma.

“What did that guard mean when she said the clan will not accept you as Chief,” he asked

“Silent fool!” Jeisena snapped

“Keep your eyes open…we were accepted guests of Lykana in her domain, once we passed through that gate we entered the lands of the Golden Fern Clan, and out of Lykana’s protection, I was lucky enough to be permitted to leave at all,”

Jeisena sniffed, she was being oddly talkative, as if she wanted to discuss her issues with him for once.

“Bitch though she is she keeps the Law, once you accept someone as a guest they are under your clans protection while in your lands, if you wish you may give them a Gerege to grant them equal protection within allied clans and tribes lands,”

Her eyes darted about

“We have no such pass…despite the fact I said I had no wish to claim my birthright…you must be on your guard the ichor stirs strangely. You still have your energy weapon?”

“My sabre, yes,”

“Keep it in your hand…sleep while in the saddle in the day so you are better rested at night.”

That almost sounded like co-operation…he realised better as he pulled his sabre out and grasped it tightly.

Jeisena had only told him she had some position in Dathomirs Clan system to ensure he understood why she might be targeted in particular, not because she wanted to actually talk about her past….even so…if she was an heiress to her Clan that meant Ulwyn too could be a target.

“I understand,”

Jeisena’s stare in reply was almost appreciative

<<<<>>>>

Lykana
“Dread Queen, Hri has passed into the Lands of the Golden Fern Clan, your Reapers await your command,”

Slouched on the throne of Skull and Stone as she considered not if, but when to kill her and take her child and maleling for their ichor rich blood. 

She had to respect the Law, she had taken her in as a guest when she arrived and could not do so then, and it would look ill if she was killed immediately after leaving her lands. Ruthless as Lykana was she honoured the Laws of Allya

Well, most of them.

“She is wearing her Totem?”

“She is,”

Allya’s Blood…someone might’ve recognised her

“Wait until she is in the DeepWood Tribes lands, I don’t want her killed too close to Blood Peak…make it appear like Bandits,”

“Yes my Queen,” Lxa turned and set off to send the message by carrier bird to the Reapers following them.

Left alone in her throne room Lykana pondered Hri’s arrival, looking up the vast opening through the peak to the sky, shade sails retracted so the star light could pour in.

Restless she headed to one of the podiums cradling the tomes she had collected, this one from the Jagged Peak Renunciates, women who believed they could read the future and the will of the Gods in the stars.  She flicked through the pages finding the current day’s constellation positions.

A stranger may bring tidings that surprise, your fears long in the womb may birth if you do not act soon

“Pah, rubbish could be said of any pattern.”

Even so the stars held power, in their rotations the winds of magic ebbed and flowed, that some nights spells were more potent was undeniable…the dark of the moon when Sadowa’s eye was ascended was when Dark magic was most powerful.  She had once heard a traveller say Sadowa’s eye was a system called Korriban, rich in the power of the Dark Jedi.  Perhaps some of that power flowed to Dathomir when it was positioned correctly and not blocked by the moon…

It was a curious thought…she wondered though…did Dathomir also give off such magic at times to other systems? Were there beings out there watching her now…

Or was she merely being paranoid after the incident with Hri’s mate and the difficult rebinding.

“Come servant,” she demanded of the Varangian.

“It is time to renew myself. Prepare my bath”

Without a word or thought the Varagian marched off to snap the necks and drain the blood of those whose youth would restore her own.

<<<<>>>>

Karintha

It never ceased to amaze such a small strange looking vessel could ply the enormous gaps between the stars.

Not that the Persephaea was small, it was 350 metres long, but compared to the distance it traversed through stars twisted into a tunnel of blue and white light they called hyperspace, positively insignificant.

Karintha leaned back in the main pilot’s seat idly checking the readings.  It was not the first time she had piloted a vessel, still everything was odd and new.

“Four, twelve, fifty eight no fifty seven…”

“4 hours12 minutes till we reach the next jump point,” Yorna explained the numbers Karintha just read out.

“I think I will tend to the plants on the Nature deck,” Kassyndra said,
“Evaea why don’t you join me?”

The young woman looked to Karintha for permission she did not need - Karintha needed to break her out of the habit but gave her an affirmative nudge in the aether.

“Yes I would like that,” Evaea said following the older woman out.

“Enough time to work on some of the Mark II armour designs,” Milaea said standing from the Defence control chair,

“I’ll join you,” Ari said to the surprise of no one, leaving Karintha with her nieces.

Kiraea still had a downcast look, but so far seemed to be coping.

“So what has been bothering you Aunt?” Yorna asked bluntly

“What?”

“Everyone can sense it…you seem tense - is it something to do with our revival not working properly?”

Karintha pursed her lips

“No my love, merely…focused on ensuring this quest resolves in my favour,”

Yorna knew that Karintha would not blame herself for what had happened with Kiraea and the twins, such was not her way, still the term left her unsure what she meant.

“This journey provides another opportunity to secure my position.”

“You want to assert your dominance, claim the role of matriarch fully,” Kiraea stated.
 Among the People leadership was never explicit, it was an implicit sense among the Tribe of one Person having the greater ability than any other – and it had to be proven by action.

“It’s clear that a firm but caring hand is needed to guide the People, Valens has performed his role expertly, but his is a military mind, the subtler arts are lost on men…” Karintha explained

“…and Lyaea, Milaea and Aresaea are still too young to assume such a mantle, Lyaea is too flippant, Milaea tends to regret her decisions too quickly…Aresaea…,” Karintha pondered what she had been told of Ari’s Trial and Quest against the Revenant

“…still lacks experience. All of them are young women, they should be focused on bonding with their mates, producing and caring for the next generation,”

Yorna had to give her aunt credit, there wasn't even a trace of Karintha’s own sadness at having lost uncle Taran, though both she and Kiraea knew it had to weigh on her.

Yorna too felt the loss of her betrothed Coryn…but...his body was not among those Valens had buried so long ago and she felt…in some way she couldn’t understand in the depths of her soul she felt he was still alive somewhere.

“This is the task I was resurrected for, of that I am certain,” Karintha’s voice was firm,
“But my inability to impart more to Evaea, failure to protect you Kiri, or help recover the Twins…I must prove worthy of the mantle, to myself and to the others,”

She stared into the vortex of the stars

“Among these witches I shall do so,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 15, 2021, 12:49:07 AM
Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 3

The Varangian

He stalked along the edge of mountain, effortlessly jumping from crag to crag, each barely large enough to land a toe upon.

In the shadowed mist of his mind he knew he had done this many times in another place of mountains and forests.

He watched the caravans below as they entered the market place carved into the mountain side, eyes sweeping in time with the Arts to detect any trace of a threat to the Queen.

Simmering beneath the surface of just over half of the inhabitants was the desire to lash out, to strike at the Queen…but the presence of the Reapers, and the Ichor green glow that emanated from the mountain within which the Queen renewed herself with the blood of the young kept them from doing so, if not his own presence.

For hours he had been on alert…in the distance he sensed something familiar but could not pin where…not in the swamps to the south, plains to the west and east, nor the mountains to the north…not in any of the tributaries or traders…

Then he looked up into the churning stars of the sky.

It was coming from above.

<<<<>>>>

Karintha

“There…” Karintha pointed as they assembled around the table screen lifted to standing height in the Strategium just behind the bridge.

“…is where the strongest aetheric presences are…”

After exiting hyperspace and noting the complete absence of any other vessels Karintha had insisted on scanning the planet using the Aetheric Nexus herself to pinpoint likely locations of the Aethan survivor who had called out to them.

“But the entire planet is saturated in power, it’s ebbs and flows vary by region, clustered where these tribes and clans likely live, anyone of them could by a valid location to search, though this mountain seems to dominate, its tendrils spread like a Kre-spiders web to the others in the aether…”

“Strange,” Ari noted “I thought the tribes were independent, yet it feels like there is some kind of hegemony,”

“And not an especially kind one,” Milaea added, they all felt the bitter aftertaste of fear and repression exuding from the planet below, this was a world rich in the aether, but ill of health.

“We should not approach directly,” Evaea suggested, “I would recommend we find a moderately sized settlement and pose as traders from another part of the planet and find out what we can about the political situation before making any enquiries,”

Karintha nodded
 
“A wise course, following our experience with Maekal, it is possible that the Person on this planet has taken a prominent role…they may be known by reputation….yet the power coming from the central mountain is clearly not of People…Yorna?” Karintha’s address broke her out of her thoughts.

“I was just thinking the same…that web of power over the others…it is familiar in a way, not generated by a Person, but it's similar to the effect Maekal’s Cult had on others, the control and coercion…we may be better placed contacting those not under this hegemony first…”

Her eyes narrowed on the holographic orb of Dathomir that radiated blue light across their faces.

“Correct,” Karintha agreed leaning forward,
“Here in the north there were a few places I sensed lacked the repression of the centre…anxiety was stronger,”

“Rebels perhaps,” Milaea suggested

“If so they will be slow to trust,” Ari noted

“Not if we introduce ourselves properly as you did on Galtea…not to the ruler of this mountain, but the True Powers of this world who can assist us far more than any mortal,”

“The true powers?” Milaea queried

“The Gods of Dathomir”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna
Toes tapped along as she waited for the ramp to descend, the statue held firmly against her rough home spun dress. 

It lowered and she lightly leapt onto the soil barefoot, dew covered grasses and moist dirt wetting her feet. 

Yorna cautiously moved toward the natural table of rock wetted by the dripping of a forgotten stream from the glaciers far to the west.

The location had been chosen carefully after a night time fly over in one of the Assault transports, this place was a nexus of Old Magicks and divine energies.

The shrine was overgrown and mossy, but retained deepness of time and echoes of power.  Based on their research Dathomir had once been home to ancient beings called the Kwa – though even the Jedi archives had little more information than the name – and after that human tribes for several millennia.  The formation into the current matriarchal clan based structure was more recent.

This shrine though, this Place of Power, felt older than all of those comparatively new arrivals, deeper even than the Shrines of the Goddesses on Aethas.

The shrine was a large table like slab cut into the mountain at waist height, and on the deep inset wall a water and wind smoothed mural of the two gods of Dathomir, while the carving had lost its sharpness to the ages, Yorna could see the overall shape that showed the Gods duality, male and female embracing and conflicting at once – creation and destruction balanced.

Gently she placed her own statue down upon the large table like slab, on it were a handful of small earthenware bowls with offerings long scattered about by weather or eaten by red plumed Veeka’s.

Caressing the figure of Aertemisaea, her image rendered precisely, bow drawn back her body clothed in flowing fabric that allowed maximum mobility as was fitting for a huntress, Yorna addressed the mural directly. 

“Winged Goddess!” She called out

“Fanged God! Deities of Dathomir!  I am Yorna, Daughter of the Three Goddesses of Aethas who I have brought with me that you might recognise them.  If you will have your children welcome and treat fairly with Us we will welcome and treat fairly with them!”

Already she could feel the eyes of Dathomirs daughters on her – they had made no secret of their approaching the early morning, moving slowly in the ship to allow the hunters and warriors time to follow them. 

Karintha wanted them to see and hear she was respectful toward Dathomir and its Gods, in that way the various clans would be respectful toward her People.

“We come here to visit, and learn and trade!” Yorna continued as her thermal sensory organs detected the heat of bodies amidst the alpine trees.

Summoning over her small pack with the aether she placed three gifts beside the statue, a bolt of hand spun cloth, dyed red, a heavily redacted hand written version of the People's history, and a handful of purple diamonds that vibrated quietly with the breezes of the aether.

Having thus introduced herself she jumped back onto the ramp as the ship ascended back up.

“Respectful,” Milaea noted at the pilots seat as they moved into the clouds,

“Hopefully the Dathomir gods know one of our Goddesses children is here and where to find them,” Yorna noted

“Through their children,” Milaea clarified
“Through their children,” Yorna confirmed

Yorna could feel Milaea was impressed with the more peaceful approach to making contact,

“I was also impressed,” Milaea added sensing her thoughts “On how you handled the situation with the Ketka, and Maekal before that….neither situation was easy but at least you limited the casualties as much as possible,”

“Thank you,” Yorna replied taking the empty co-pilots seat
“It is good to know what you think, to review our actions and tactics…too often it seems our relationships with outsiders has been overly antagonistic…not without reason…but based on the information Ari has about these witches I think we can become friends,”

“Friends” Milaea smiled pleasantly surprised
“I hope so,”

<<<<>>>>

Hours after leaving the first of the scouts tentatively approached the statue and the offerings. 

The woman’s introduction was not precisely in keeping with the tradition of the Dathomir clans, but it was respectful. 

The Clan Huntress, Aun Frost-Glade, scrutinized the image of the Goddess of Aethas even as a member of the Silken-Shadows approached to join her.

“What have the left?” the Silken Spider queried in the old tongue, fitting for such a place.

“Cloth for trade, a book for knowledge, jewels for decoration…”

“No…” the Silken Spider picked up one of the purple diamonds feeling the magicks pulse gently within.

“Not decoration…enchantments.”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna returned the same time next day with Karintha and Evaea, the statue remained untouched but the gifts were gone, in their place a pelt of rancor leather, a scroll and a totem infused with magicks. 

The trade had been accepted.

They sat upon the grass and waited.

<Success?> Ari thought across from the ship hovering nearby

<Success…we’ll wait till they make contact and let you know when it is safe to come down.> Karintha replied

Yorna leaned back and breathed in the aether and the air, it was similar to home in a way…less…warm perhaps, but similar enough they could use the aether here without needing time to adapt her connection to it in a substantial way.

“So similar…” Karintha noted Yorna’s thoughts,
She then turned to Evaea.
“I wonder though, is it because the aether is similar here or the way the People use the aether here is similar to us?”

Yorna pursed her lips in consideration, the difference seemed semantic yet held a deeper question – did the aether shape a People, or did a People shape the aether of a planet. A brief second later she recalled the answer, it was a question her Aunt had asked her many years ago.

Evaea remained in deep thought. Her aquiline features gazing with hard focus upon the grasses, then the trees, then the Shrine as the tension in her mind – loud as ever – perhaps the only thing that was not stealthy about the young woman – resolved her response.

“The answer is both, aether, Gods, flora, fauna and People grow and change together,”

“And what do sense of the relationship between these things here?” Karintha probed

“There is…a shift toward a new equilibrium, the power that dominates much of this planet is on an inexorable slow ascent, the Powers that were…the Gods that this shrine honours are in decline”

“And is this a good or bad thing,”

Yorna kept her senses between her Aunt and ‘younger’ cousin, Karintha as always did her best as a teacher by drawing out your own thoughts and opinions.

“Descriptors of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are irrelevant - it is change,” Evaea finished

Soon enough they heard the faint movement of foliage to a human near undetectable, for People gentle but noticeable.

Finally appearing from the trees was a young woman with red hair and white painted face with blue warrior markings, her outfit seemed somewhat out of place in the alpine forest with furs better suited to tundra.

They all stood and bowed slightly in greeting as the woman stood tall before them.

“I am Aun Frost Glade of the Pine Forest Clan, I welcome Yorna Child of the Three Goddesses of Aethas on Behalf of the Winged Goddess and Fanged God, and thank her for the gifts of greeting.”

With a slight gesture of her hand Aun gave permission for Yorna to stand.

“And I thank you for your welcome here and introduce my Aunt Karintha and Cousin Evaea”

Yorna kept her curiosity in check not delving too deeply to sense the woman…Evaea nudged she sensed at least six others nearby suspicious of why this offworlder had come. 

They could all easily sense Aun was human, approximately 25 winters, had some innate aetheric ability but not enough to wield it in a focused way.

A brief silence passed layered with uncertainty, Yorna decided to break it.

“We come to learn and trade with your clans, and also seek one of our kin whom we lost many winters ago and believe may be on this world,”

“One of your kin?”

“Yes…we heard a call in the…magicks, or Arts as you may know it…that connects our People at the new moon,”

Aun had little talent in the arts beyond a nascent sense of imminent danger, what was true and false… Aun’s keening felt no deception from this Yorna, and her actions thus far were respectful.

“I do not myself know of any peoples claiming to be from Aethas here. Even so, you have no doubt journeyed a long way, you and yours are welcome to come to a place of Gathering where the wise women of these lands will be gathered tonight and ask them, there will be food and water to refresh yourself also.”

Yorna smiled

“We accept your invitation,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 15, 2021, 12:51:43 AM
Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 4
Karintha
The gathering place was the largest flat land the ravine could offer – bordered by large totems cut from whole trees, each of which painted and etched in a different manner.

The variety was stunning, each totem had at its base an animal, above them images of how the tribe lived, some featured hunters, fishers, a few craftswomen and framers, above them a number of images of women of various ages and outfits that must represent tribal ancestors, then a panorama of the land of the tribe with a sky above stars indicating its location dotted out carefully. Finally at the very top was the tribes totemic symbol.

Karintha could instantly tell many of the scenes and occupations could not be local, some showed wide plains, others icy steppes, a few even desert oasis…given how inaccessible these ravines were it could not be a usual meeting place…
 
She shared her thoughts freely across the aetheric bond with the other women, all seven of them were present, dressed in practical leathers rather than Mark 1 Oblivion Armour, they were not here to fight or make enemies, and the natural outfits easily fit in with those worn by the Dathomiri women.

Virtually only women it seemed.  Karintha spied the odd male when walking down to the meeting place carrying various loads and such, but none it seemed were permitted to entered the sacred place that the totems surrounded in a rough circle

Within were a number of grainy taught tents, again of different styles and makes, small circles of stone for fires in between.

Aun led them to the centre where a number of women of various ages awaited them, again their clothes were different reflecting vastly different native climates.

“Clan Mother Hri, Clan Mother Yzzerhera, Hetwoman Ianna, Chief Peola, Chief Knissa, I present visitors from the planet Aethas, daughters of the three Goddesses there,”

<A large number of leaders in such an out of the way place…so far from the centre of power we sensed…this is unusual> Ari noted mentally even as the last syllable passed Aun’s lips.

Each leader offered a greeting as unique as their outfits and appearance, Ianna a warrior in metal studded plate face tanned and scarred from the fields, Yzzerhera an aged stooped magi with dusky skin in voluminous but airy headscarf, Peola grey haired with hawkish eyes adept at overseeing many thralls, Knissa even more pale than the Aethans alabaster skin with ebony hair and a lithe frame.

 Karintha seized the initiative.

“Honoured Matriarchs I am Karintha of the Children of Aethas, with me are my nieces Yorna and Kiraea, kinswomen and friend Kassyndra and her granddaughter Milaea, cousins Evaea and Aresaea, we come in friendship, seeking trade, knowledge and in search of lost kin,”

One of the women, Clan Mother Hri stepped forward, she was a ways younger than the others, no more than 30 or so winters, she displayed the poised and commanding aura of a matriarch already perfectly combined in bright quick eyes that shone from amidst her white and black face paint, the curves of which accentuated her high cheekbones further giving her added height.

“You are welcome to trade, teach and learn in all fairness, please sit,”

The formalities over they introduced themselves about the talking circle more casually. Both sets of women from traditional cultures living with the land they soon found themselves in engaging conversations as other women served them foods that, though insufficient for Aethan nutritional needs still had a wholesomeness the artificial Chiss creations lacked. 

Within an hour as the first fires were lit Milaea and Ari were speaking with Clan Mother Yzzerhera about her traditions on Ichor distillation and consumption for visions of the future, Kassyndra and Evaea with Peola regarding their outfits, what plants and animals were used in their production and the meaning infused in each piece, Aun and Knissa explained to Yorna and Kiraea the meanings of the various totems while Karintha herself spoke with Ianna and Hri.

They began talking generally, Karintha thanking them for the hospitality, inquiring about the sources of the foods and their preparation, gradually she turned it to her real points of interest,

“It is a wide variety of dishes, you all come from many distant lands,” it was half question half statement

“These are the lands of the Whistling Caverns,” Hri explained,
“these are my homelands. The others have been staying here in the deep ravines as my guests,”

“A conclave or coven?” Karintha pressed gently

“Merely a convenient place to reside at this time,” Hri replied clearly unwilling to discuss the true reason for such variety of tribes yet,
“Tell me more of your kin you believe are on Dathomir,”

Karintha straightened up eyes focused on the two women, Hri despite her relative youth had a careworn face, Ianna a number of scars, she had seen fighting some years past, left arm limp with an old injury.

“We sensed a call from one of our lost kin fifteen days ago from this region of space, have you perhaps seen any women who appear like myself and my kinswomen, we are all of a similar appearance?”

Hri had certainly noted the only real difference between them was hairstyle, nonetheless they were all of a striking beauty, alabaster skin and light red to red brown hair, as if from a colder climate much like Aun Frost Glade, however such a beauty would not have gone unnoticed.

“None I am afraid,” Hri replied “you say your kin was lost, perhaps if you explain how, did they come here to trade like you?”

In a tenth of a second Karintha considered her options.  She could hear all the other conversations about her, feel the growing warm disposition between the natural allies of Aethans and Dathomiri Witches, truth would be her best course however painful.

“No…some years ago off world slavers raided our village and took many of our kin, killing more as we resisted, only recently have we acquired the means to begin searching for them in an effective way,”

Ianna glanced to Hri who had a better sense of these things than she did, Ianna was a warrior chief not a diplomat, her talents in the Arts were restricted to combat…for all the good that had done against the Varangian.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Hri consoled sensing no deception in Karintha’s words
“There has been much dislocation in recent years…even here,”

She glanced to Ianna who nodded,

“You asked why we are assembled here from distant lands…at the moment Dathomir is ruled by the Dread Queen Lykana, a Night Sister, wielder of dark magicks, her rapaciousness demands for tribute exceeding reason…when they fail to the consequences are…”

She paused briefly

“..enough to drive tribes and clans from their ancestral lands to merely survive, here in the ravines and caverns they can hide if not thrive…”

Karintha nodded, as she had Evaea learn just hours before connection to a Place, its Gods, Flora and Fauna was essential to her own sense of self, to have to flee from that place was to lose much of yourself to save the rest.

“I tell you this Karintha of Aethas because it means I have little to offer by way of assisting your search…even so I accept you and your kin as guests in my ancestral lands and my protection while in my borders.”

“Thank you for your Hospitality,” Karintha replied considering a fitting response
<Ari, Mili, how much do we have in the Persephaea’s stores of real food>
<700 litres of milk, 178 Kyala fruits, 42 kilos of Gromn jerky and some gopin mince> Ari replied even as she tinkered with a focusing amulet Yzzerhera was explaining made of Shard glass mined deep in the deserts.
<Can outsiders consume it?>
<I’d have to extract the heavy minerals first then dilute with water but yes> Milaea replied

“We have some food stuffs and medicine on our vessel we are happy to share with you,”  Karintha went on never missing a beat in the conversation so far as the humans were concerned

Hri was about to refuse, not Karintha sensed out of pride but because they did not trust republic technologies

“..not those of machines and manufacture, but those harvested from our own Valley and lands, herbs and leaves for salves, fruits and milks for nutrition.”

“That…would be appreciated,”

<<<<>>>>

Alwyn Hri
The night was one of rare happiness and excitement.

The off world visitors were curious and intelligent to a fault, nothing seemed beyond their grasp to understand, indeed Clan Mother Alwyn Hri wondered if they were even human such was their capacity to not just absorb information and deduce all she might have explained otherwise.

As the stars had come out and she had shown them the main constellations Yorna had instantly recognised and ascribed them to their associated tribes in attendance in the Ravine.

As it came to an end the guests were shown to a large tent to rest in while the leaders returned to her relatively more spacious tent.

“So what do you make of them?” Hri asked as Aun Frost Glade, the last leader entered, her keening of another’s truth was never mistaken.

“They are clever, intuitive, and honest, they seek their lost kin and to trade just as they have said,”

Hri nodded and turned to Yzzerhera, her sand scorched brown face etched with age beneath a traditional tight headscarf, though stooped with years she was the strongest among them with the Arts, a powerful Magi of the Desert.

Even now it was a sobering fact that Lykana and the Varangian had been able to overcome such a woman in years long past. 

Once the plains, mountains and northern lands were obedient to Lykana it was thought she would be satisfied. The tribes of the Desert and the equatorial jungles were scattered, small and fiercely independent, distant from the more temperate climes where the majority of the Dathomiri lived.

So insatiable was Lykana’s need for power she went far south nonetheless, forcing tribe after tribe to submit, hardening her armies of Reapers further with travel through desert and wet tropics, the Varangian at their head slaying Champion after Champion of those who resisted…

Few did in the end.  Yzzerhera had been one of the last, ‘old and stubborn’ to a fault she eluded Lykana for months by criss-crossing the wadis using tracks known only to her tribe.  Lykana returned to Blood Peak frustrated but left the Varangian with a single order – “Break them,”

Nearly two months later somehow he found them, falling upon their scouts with fury that turned the sand red with blood - Yzzerhera and her Magi could only pin him down with conjured sand storms and mirages as they fled north – but even these he would break through eventually, learning as we went and catching any stragglers in merciless vice like hands that shattered bone.

A mere rump of the tribe escaped over the Salt Seas to wind its way north, keeping off the roads, losing more of their people in the unfamiliar climate and against unfamiliar predators looking for a place to hide till they arrived starving and depleted in the lower Ravines.  There Alwyn Hri took pity on them and hid them.

They were the first but not the last who had fled to the maze of tightly packed cliffs and caverns to hide from Lykana, Aun herself came just after the Varangian had slain her mother and destroyed their village with what few other survivors she found hidden among the ancient pines.

“They are strong in the arts…a strength deep as the black rock that lies below the world’s sphere,” Yzzerhera’s voice harsh as the sand winds of her home lands had become harsher in exile
“…a strength that is familiar but foreign, only once have I felt such before…the Varangian.”

“The Varangian?,” Aun said shocked

“In what way?” Hri asked, her hand stretched to steady the shock the others showed

“Their power is drawn from the same well…but lacks the shadow of Lykana’s cloud…” the old woman explained
“Until this day I thought the Varangian a creation of Lykana’s necromancy a powerful warrior of the North she rose from the dust of ages with her dark arts…now it seems he is one of these Aethans bent to Lykana’s will.”

“They said their people were taken as slaves many years ago…” Ianna noted
“It was rumoured Lykana dealt with off worlders to acquire grimoires and magical totems.”

“It is possible but a long bow to draw still, I do not wish to give our guests false hope…” Alwyn noted

“Even so,” Aun interrupted “There is an opportunity here, with allies from offworld, strong in the arts as they are, with their ships, they could bring in food, weapons…warriors…”

A split that ran through the assembled matriarchs now reappeared with the suggestion.

No rebellion had yet been successful against Lykana, but the longer the tribes remained in exile in the ravines the more they felt the restless desire to do something, Aun longed to avenge her mother and her tribe, and had long wished to create a network of allies to rise up against Lykana.

Of course Hri opposed this, she had given the refugees a place to hide, shared what little the Whistling Caverns could offer, and was already in grave danger if Lykana ever discovered that…were Aun to try and build an army in the ravines…..

“These people have just arrived, I doubt they wish to involve themselves in our disputes…we cannot risk Lykana’s ire. And more importantly,” Hri fixed Aun’s gaze

“Lykana turned to dark and forbidden magic to take her throne, losing her soul in the process, if we seek aid of metal and machines from off world we are no better, Lykana takes much in tribute but she will not take our honour.”

Aun snapped back frustrated

“Honour? what good is honour if we are dead, Lykana is already taking more and more every year, we barely have enough to eat, the forests depleted, seas empty, and now the gods have brought this opportunity to free ourselves from her blood draining yoke, we can at least ask if they know of other warriors who might help, my grandmother told tales of beings called Mando’a, men clothed in metal who can fly, perhaps they could put us in contact with them?”

“I will not permit it, I am already risking my life and more importantly that of my people giving you refuge…who is to say these Mando’a will not simply use their power to enslave you in turn, are you really so desperate to have your revenge you would seek help form men?”

Tension sparked between them as the other matriarchs watched on, for too many years they had been stuck here, hiding, hungry, this arrival was a catalyst for change, they could all feel as much, the question was how.

Alwyn long counselled patience, Lykana she noted could not live forever despite her necromancies, Aun counselled action, that to live in fear and hiding was no life at all.

For now Alwyn Hri held sway as they all relied on her kindness for a place to live and food to eat.

Hri sighed out some frustration

“The tribute and procession is due soon, I will return to the Caverns and the border at the end of the week, I will offer our guests to accompany me on the long journey where they might ask more chiefs and clan mothers about their kin, we can discuss other matters upon my return.”

<<<<>>>>

Karintha
“…we can discuss other matters upon my return,” Evaea finished.

Although across the meeting grounds the subtle vibrations in the tents seemingly taught canvas combined with Evaea’s impeccably trained ability to scrounge out the slightest sound allowed them full transcription of the conversation.

“Varangian…interesting…if the Person here is male, he would certainly have looked for a strong female for assistance upon arriving…” Ari considered out loud

“If this Lykana found him…without any way home or thinking he was the only survivor, he could easily have slipped into obeying her instinctually, especially if she is as strong in the aether as they suggest.”

“Possible…but the planet is vast and full of aether warriors, we must investigate more thoroughly the situation,” Karintha said, talking with the other Matriarchs helping rebuild a sense of control and leadership and the peaceful introduction endearing her to Milaea and Ari.

“We remain here, these other clans have much to teach of value to us,” Karintha continued
“and by building friendships we will soon naturally discover any further hints as to the location of the Person here without needing to pry,”

“Should we not also,” Kassyndra added “consider sending someone to meet with this Lykana, if she does rule this world, however unjustly, she may have access to far more resources,”

Karintha thought for a moment,

“We sought the Gods of Dathomir, and their divine energy was strongest here…we must trust in their guidance while in their land,” Karintha reasoned

“But there is truth to your words also, when Hri offers to escort us on her tribute procession we will send a party with her…till then we learn all we can from the Dathomiri,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 15, 2021, 12:54:02 AM
Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 5
Jo Set Mack
It had been nearly three weeks.

Three very long weeks.

They had traded the Bolma for six horned Verne to ride as the passes became narrower, his pack ever lighter as more goods were used to pay their way.  How he would afford the trip back he had no idea, he hoped Jeisena knew something he did not.

There was much Jeisena knew that he did not.  And she was not inclined to share.

At night he would sit away from her as she pointed out constellations to Ulwyn, her finger drawing lines down to landmarks on the earth below to help her navigate.  She would tell stories of heroes and monsters, some dramatic and frightful that had Ulwyn curled up worried, some humorous and outlandish.

When Jo listening in would chuckle along with a double entendre Jeisena would give him a death stare for not having his full attention on guard.

Occasionally he would sense the presence of local tribeswomen watching them, but when it was obvious they were not poaching they lost interest.

The fauna were more of a problem, even keeping to the safer tracks.  Fortunately a quick shot of his blaster scared most things off, the sound and speed of the bolt terrifying creatures accustomed only to bows and arrows.

Three times they’d encountered bandits  - the first time coming around a tight bend in a cliff face in line with trees they’d sprung out from in front and behind with nets and spears.  They were lean with hungry strength, men barely clothed beneath their sunken eyes.  Three quick shots sped by Force enhanced reflexes sent them fleeing.

Four days later a whooping shrill call had echoed as mounted bandits raced at them as they passed between two hills.  Ulwyn had shrieked as they rushed down. 

Calling on the Force Jo pulled his blaster braced it against his off elbow and squeezed two shots straight into the leader on the right – the leather armour no match for the red bolts it burned straight into the flesh toppling her off some kind of saurian mount.

Seeing off world weapons the ones on the right paused, circling and pulling cross bows, the ones on the left kept advancing. 

There in the afternoon sun he lit his blade for the first time in years.

The snap-hiss somehow drowning the undulating war cries and causing shock among them.  The Witches of Dathomir were no strangers to the Force or unusual weapons, but technological ones seemed taboo – though Jo suspected in the long term that would not last – one fired a cross bow bolt straight at him – trained to deflect far faster moving blaster bolts it was effortless to sear it in two.

They fled after that.

Two nights ago had been the third time.  They were camped under an overhang in the rock whose charcoal floor was littered with old small bones and dried skins of fruits indicating it was often used by travellers.

They’d come just after the third watch, silent - sneaking.  He was sitting cross legged Odjina’s awareness tune on his lip, feeling out the peaks of fear, desperation and bloodlust as they approached.  He was glad Ulwyn was asleep by then.

First he sent a rock flying into a tree to create a sound to the side of their approach briefly drawing their attention.

Then he moved.

He may have been exiled from the Mak’tor, working as mall security, but for the sake of his daughter he had never stopped training when Jeisena wasn’t making demands on him.

And while he wasn’t the fighter he had been….

The first he took silently strangling from behind and igniting his blade into their back and through the body.  He’d hoped like the other times the rest would run at the site.

They didn’t.

The fight was fast and bloody in the trees by the overhang.  The tangles with two at once, his sabre slicing through the rough cast iron sword and the arm that held it.

The second had a halberd infused somehow with the force, this clashed against his blade in three quick strikes, but it soon became apparent Jo was not facing a trained warrior, just a talented thug. The rally was soon put to an end as Jo sliced his stomach into a cauterized grin.

By now two more were trying to get him from behind, three others rushing to grab Ulwyn and Jeisena.

Any thought the two sleeping females were unprotected while the male was fighting were soon dispelled as Jeisena leapt and unleashed a torrent of wild Force lighting.  Primal and uncontrolled compared to what Jo had seen Valens capable of it crackled over the first searing his face into black burnt welts as he dropped, the woman beside him with skulls on her belt pulled back muttering an incantation.

From his observations only 5 to 10 percent of the population had enough of a connection to the Force to be considered witches – still dramatically higher than in the galaxy as a whole due to their limited breeding pool – but much a higher number, perhaps a quarter - had a touch of the ‘Arts’ enough to perform ‘magic’ or have a ‘second sight’ or ‘keening’, the woman facing Jeisena was one such, her words illuminating a carved stone about her neck that deflected the lighting infuriating Jeisena.

Jo had little time to look, his sabre working swiftly against the attack of two better armed and more capable opponents.  He had a flash back to the first time he met Jeisena, her challenge to prove his worth by defeating her Zabrack chattel…he wondered what happened to them…most likely she had sold them to pay for food considering the even more wretched condition he found her in a mere four months later on Nar Shadda.

One hulking brute had wielded an Axe, the other two quick daggers, both enchanted enough to match a lightsabre.  They were strong too, life on Dathomir bred hard and lean bodies, but Jo knew something of fighting a physically superior opponent. 

He let them hammer away, moving quickly to avoid and parry only when needed, an attempt to throw one with the force was rebuffed by instinct more than skill, but the second attempt succeeded, the axe wielder staggering Jo stepped forward as if to capitalise on the chance – then swiftly turned on the dagger man – his sabre melting into his metal cuirass causing him to screech as the forest lit with another blast of blue lighting from the overhang.  Following through he stabbed at the Axe man missing the chest but burying his blade into the shoulder causing him to collapse.

Leaving them to die, Jo broke off and rushed to where Jeisena was in an inconclusive fight with two women, both were holding rune stones muttering spells and tracing sigils in the air that exploded like fire toward her. 

His mouth turning to mimic a ‘dispelling’ tune Odjina had devised to break through illusions he rushed them from behind, one turned and threw a burning symbol of flame that caught on his blade the hiss sound enough to wake Ulwyn who instantly screamed, the distraction enough to let him get closer and summon up logs from the fire to hurl at the woman still locked in the fight with Jeisena. 

The other began a ritual as Jo focused his dispelling motif at her – it was not designed to counter such magic, but seemed to cause her difficulty, her voice warbling the energy she tried to harness sparking not coalescing. 

Before she could raise her shield he was on her, blade through the neck as Jeisena closed with the other and in a brief and bloody match of daggers, slashing the bandits face along the cheek – she staggered straight into Jo’s blade.

Ulwyn had soon been soothed by Jeisena who quickly moved her along leaving Jo to loot the bodies.

Distasteful as it was they needed the trade goods.  He placed the bodies together in a ditch which would have to serve as burial, piling a few stones over top.

He came back to a small grove where Jeisena had set up a second camp an hour later.

“What took you so long fool?”

“Just…didn’t want to leave them like that,”

Jeisena sneered
“They are outcasts, absent kith and kin they deserve no rites…but then I suppose you may feel fraternity with such outcasts,”

Now he gave her a harsh look in the fire light. 

Her mouth motioned to speak…then stopped shut as she thought better of it looking at his blood stained cheeks and sweat matted hair.

“You did well tonight…killed those who would harm my child…” she strode forward as he stood still his heart still pumping from the fight, alert for any further threats.

It jumped further as she placed her arms around his neck

“My blood stirs also …”

<<<<>>>>
That was three days ago.

He still felt on edge as they passed the ‘border’ into Deepwood.  It was in the middle of a forest marked only by weather damaged fallen totem poles and wind chimes hung from branches.

Jeisena sniffed at the fallen state of the crossing.

“See what that bitch has done…drained the blood from everything…:schutta whore”

Jo winced at her language around Ulwyn.

“When I first passed through here with my mother,” she said more gently to Ulwyn,

“All this was upright, repaired, painted, over there would be a small waystation with fruits and foods to welcome visitors and a horn to blow if you needed help finding your way…now nothing but decay…Wings of the Goddess I hope the Caverns have been spared but I doubt it.”

Jo doubted it too, from all he had seen Dathomir, already regressed technologically, was sliding further toward outright poverty under Lykana’s rule.

“The land…the people…even the Force here is sick,” he agreed absently as if she were someone he could have a normal conversation with, he realised his error as she raised an eyebrow, her facial make up recently reapplied after largely coming off over the last week.

“Truth. When one tampers with the dark magic too deeply this is result, too much death and not the life to replace it in the Grand Cycle,”

It was a sentiment a Mak’or would concur with.

Jeisena went on adjusting in her saddle
“Just a few days to the river, hopefully the old bridge is still intact…then straight to the crook in the mountains where to deep Flow ravine and there to the caverns,”
 
A look of rare worry passed across her face even through the white paint

“I wonder if your grandmother is still alive…”

As they plodded along the forest trails Jo kept his senses open, but was caught up thinking about Jeisena getting more concerned the closer they came to her erstwhile home.

He had worked out just why she had been living in squalor trading magic for credits – as Lykana’s power grew she was sent, off world for her own safety ending up on Nar Shadda – a planet so vastly different from Dathomir on which she held no rank or privilege it was amazing she survived. 

“Stop falling behind imbecile!”

<<<<>>>>


Lykana

“Offworlders…at the Whistling Caverns…Hri…” she said calmly as the green glow of the vision pool reflected the image of her Cousin and Master of Scouts Lyra communicating from far to the north

“That rancor turd schutta!!” she screeched her youthful faced creasing with the angry narrowing of her eyes.

“This was her plan all along. Somehow she concealed it when she arrived! HOW!”

Lyra had no answer, but it was not her she was asking, rather the Eldritch Coven assembled around the vision pool – the strongest and most loyal (if any could said to be so) of the Night sisters

“Her powers must have grown exceptionally when off world Dread queen,” one croaking old bat tried to explain,

“We sensed nothing from her…or the male,”

“Well somehow Jeisena has been in contact with her damned little sister preparing for her return…they must’ve been planning this for years…Alwyn the little bitch, I should’ve sent the Varangian to wipe her out long ago…”

There was good reason she had not even after learning that refugees had fled there - it served Lykana’s purpose to leave the exiles to rot in the inaccessible ravines – sending in her Reapers would be a pyrrhic exercise, and turning a blind eye to meant all the disaffected and displaced fled to one place taxing Alwyn Hris resources to feed them all. 

Lykana knew there would always be dissent, but she had been content to allow this ulcer of annoyance to sit in place where it was irritating but contained…

Yet…something seemed amiss…why would Jeisena visit her at all when arriving…why pretend she was there for the naming of her daughter? 

Even as the Coven averted their eyes trying not to look stupid Lykana settled her mind into the undercurrents of the ichors and magical winds…there was a disruption, subtle and strange coalescing in whirls around the Whistling caverns and…

Behind her…

The Varangian…

Lykana’s eyes widened with understanding that others might have termed paranoid delusion

That was why Jeisena came here with that male who had memories of other men like the Varangian…she was trying to destabilise me, distract me…and it worked, the last binding was more difficult than ever…she must have more like him…the slut must have offered every hole she’s got to secure them…we must strike quickly,

“Assemble your covens, raise your vassals!” she creamed to the cowering witches as her eyes flickered ichor green

“Round up every male and orphan with the arts you can, and if you have none take any you deem fit and bring them here!”

She leered into the vision pool
 
“I don’t care where Jeisena is have the Reapers kill her now,”

“Yes Dread Queen…” Lyra obeyed before vanishing into the deep black water

Lykana rose fists tight

“Smash open the catacombs bring every dead body that once held a trace of the arts to Blood Peak…spread the word Alwyn Hri conspires with off worlders, offers herself freely to them like the whore she is!” her rant continued

With each vituperative word recently her youthful face cracked a tiny bit more.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 15, 2021, 12:56:07 AM
Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 6
Jo Set Mack

“Jo….Jo-o-o-o” Ho-Li’s voice lilted on the wind in the gardens of the Temple, the endless rainbows of Coruscant traffic overhead.

He kept hidden beneath the Oblio tree, his grandmother Ha-Ona was sitting on a bench nearby, his father Jo’nas and uncle A’Lan laughing with Soryu, Gurrlum and Li’I.

But where was Odjina…

He remembered him being there…on the bench talking to Ha’Ona…

Jo stepped out as Ho’Li kept looking for him….approaching the bench as the crystal cavern formed around him.

“Where are you Jo?” Ho’Li called again, her voice older as he stepped deeper into the dark…Odjina was there somewhere…he had to find him….had to…

Apologise? Beg? Cry?

Tears welled in his eyes

“Jo! Where are you?” his sister asked just before the blade pierced her heart.

She was looking for him…but he had left her and all he had been so far behind…

Her body lay before him cold as the permafrost crystals of Vyth that surrounded her.

“I’m here…I’m here!” he screamed shaking her, willing lifeless eyes that stared into eternity to look upon him.

But she wouldn’t…couldn’t, her Brother had died when he turned to the darkness to ‘avenge’ her.

He was lost still, what was he doing…he needed someone, anyone to show him the way, but one and all he had turned from them…grandmother, father, mother, uncle, cousin, sister, friends…

“I never left you,” The ice cold hand of Odjina on his shoulder shattered the dream.


Spine frozen with danger sense Jo snapped up from his drooping at the murky caverns entrance.

They were coming – who, how many, why, he didn’t know or need to know, only that he needed to get his daughter and his….wife?, Mistress? Whatever – out of here as quickly as possible.

Saber tight in his hand he grabbed Jeisena harshly shocking her awake

“Jo what the frell…”

He was too focused on the imminent danger to notice she had spoken his name in her waking disorientation

“We need to move now,”

Immediately he grabbed the still sleeping Ulwyn, tightening the blanket around her as he threw the satchel with their food over his shoulder.

“How far to the Caverns, what direction?”

“Straight along the river from here, a days ride,”

The Moon flitted at the edge of the Mountains he needed to reach, a few hours before dawn and the chill he ignored with the flush of action began to set in.

Ulwyn in his left arm saber in right hand he ran out of the cavern Jeisena scrambling behind him.

They were a few hundred meters from the river surrounded by mangroves and reeds that swam with insects in the dark, the ground became ever sloppier as he moved forward heart pounding as the certainty of menace grew..and grew..and…

A spectral hiss sounded behind him.

Jeisena screamed.

An electrical whip of some kind was round her arm, she pulled her daggers and hacked even as it burnt into her skin.

From the night shaded bushes three figures with Force sparking scythes appeared, the fourth tussling with Jeisena on the whip.

The three others rushed him, air crackling with malefic weaponry as the wind made shrieking howls through the hollowed bones and feathers on their headdresses.

Guardian Blue light erupted from his saber as he rose to block the first slash, the impact causing him to shudder as he gripped the mercifully still sleeping Ulwyn tightly.

Incensed at the risk to her child Jeisena cut through the whip and grasped the Reaper with the Arts drawing her forward, the sunken eyed woman leaned into the pull drawing a serrated onyx dagger. They sparred fast and bloody, Jeisena trembled lighting up her arm to enhance her blows, even when she missed the arcs would catch and burn flesh, the Reaper - the better fighter - landed three cuts to her face, arm and breast, even forced to keep a distance.

Jo couldn’t hold against the three of them while holding Ulwyn. 

To save her life he had to risk hurting her.

He let his daughter drop trusting in the muddy ground to cushion the blow.

“MA-MA!”

Wet and cold shattered Ulwyn’s warm sleep screaming eyes opening to see flashing lights over her head and feel the pounding horror of danger in her budding Force senses.

He fought as he never had before.  For he’d never had a wife and daughter to protect before. 

The Reapers were fanatical and experienced, years serving Lykana in her campaigns and purges – but Jo was no slouch and had fought extreme odds before.

Something in those fights against Valens, losses they all might have been, hardened him to punishment - once you’d been hit by an Aethan, a human fist was mediocre.  His guard didn’t falter to the rapid impact of energy crackling scythes, his mind didn’t yield to the horrific illusions the witches conjured with their totems and rune covered skulls. 

His lips were a constant hum of the rising canto of a Battle-Song he had heard Odjina use, he’d never been able to keep the rhythm so long, it had always seemed too advanced and complex for him to emulate, now if he faltered a single key his family would die.

The Reapers skill finally succumbed to Jeisena’s raw electrical blasts, the pain from the hissing burnt skin no longer suppressed by even the opioid filled herbs the Reapers ingested before battle causing her to crash to the ground.

Jesisena had no thought to follow through, she ran straight for her daughter.

Through the air shattering clash of sabre against scythe she rolled to sweep up her bawling offspring…only for the wetness of the mud to cause her to slip from her grasp.

The distraction was too much, Jo faltered, the tip of a scythe slicing a deep furrow in his upper thigh.

“AAAGHHH!”

The battlesong lost he hurled a sloppy but effective telekinetic blast that hurled all three Reapers back into trees and mud.

“COME ON!” He grabbed Jesiena with one hand, she yanked Ulwyn in tune whose little fingers dug painfully into her as they ran, Jo swapping Saber for blaster firing backward the calmer part of his mind guiding his arm to yield some accuracy in the dark.

Red Bolts of Blaster fire were soon replied too with blow darks and whistling bladed boomerangs.

“Gnnng!” Jeisena toppled into the river bank sand, moths thick in the air as Ulwyn splashed into the river, scrambling and crying for her mother.

“JEISENA!” He reached down to grab her head and felt a warm liquid out of place in the glacier fed river waters matting her hair.

Teeth furiously gritted he spun and fired back six rapid shots, each weaker than the last as the power pack depleted, minor consolation a sudden spike of pain in the Force somewhere behind him.

Shoving the blaster into his pants he hauled Jeisena onto his shoulder and scooped Ulwyn into the nook between his shoulder and her mothers dangling legs.

The Force burning his limbs he drew more of it, tongue flicking behind clenched teeth with an endurance tune as he carried his family up the river in a half run.

Leaves scratched and mud sploshed as the Reapers charged toward them.

Jo groaned under the weight, fumbled to grab his saber, the snap hiss drawing in moths attracted to the light. He painfully turned and hurled the saber backward.

Face contorted in pain as the wound in his leg began to sting like hell, he twisted the blade with his mind as best he could toward the pursuers even as he kept moving forward.

A spark in the distance as it hit something metal was all he got as he trudged over water smoothed boulders and pebbles that step by step risked tripping him under the girls weight.

The Telekinetic grip on his saber loosened - it was lost for good.

There was nothing to do but keep running, his limbs were on fire, head pounding, the Battlesong had taken more from him than he realised, he could copy Odjina but never match his stamina.  The Reapers would soon catch up, or more likely flank him.

The rivers endless gurgle as he jogged against the current was his only companions, body hot from exertion keeping the predawn frost at bay.

The pain became a kind of friend in his exhausted delirium, his mind twisting in trying to count the steps, measure the litres or some other crazed concept to keep him from focusing on the body shattering fatigue.

They were waiting for him to tire himself out, he realised as the first orange fingers of dawn's light appeared, nights party of insects and nocturnal animals vanishing into shrubs and beneath gnarled roots half in the waters.

Branches snapped up ahead.  Warm blood trickled down his arm from Jeisena’s head.

Ulwyn seemed eerily quiet as she gripped on for survival.

He would lose them both.  He didn’t care for his own death, he’d cheated the Reaper…

“Ha…ahhaha!” he laughed the ‘Reaper like Grim reaper…
Too many times already…but not Jeisena and Ulwyn…not them…

The river narrowed as he rounded a bend, large cliffs either side of the faster rushing waters that had long since cut a canyon into the mount ahead, a thin rock path to one side flanked by totems…the border of the Whistling Caverns Territory…

His wife and child would die mere meters from their home lands.

He would die having failed two families in one lifetime.

The seemingly monotonous screen of green that bordered the river banks parted as the Reapers shrieked in their final charge. 

For what seemed like a third lifetime Jo watched entranced by the glitter of the sun against the ichor energy of their scythes. 

The green stuck in his eyes, it spun and coalesced into a figure beside the totems.  A bald, no, twi-leki man standing there at the edge, face firm but eyes kind, robes of a singer with Mak’tora Runes stitched into the edging.

I Never Left You

In the slow motion of his last breath –
Jo tilted back, the weight of Jeisena nearly toppling him as the Scythe sliced effortlessly through his rough shirt and left a cauterized gash in his abdomen.

He dropped to his knees as the second Scythe overshot his head.  Boot sloshing with blood pushed against the wet sand to lift him into a sprint. 

There was no pain, only peace as he ran to his master in tears.

Things stuck his back, his arms, life seeped from his body as he sloshed through the rushing water against the current till he could take no more and fell on his face before Odjina, Ulwyn rolling off into a shallow pool as the green glow of the Master Singers spirit turned to ash grey as a shadow fell over him.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on June 21, 2021, 02:30:51 PM
This is quickly becoming another one of my favorite story arcs  :)

Poor Jo'Set, he's already lost so much: from his standing within the Mak'Tor to his home in M'Tzigon, his family and subsequent vengeance, he seemed to find at least a modicum of peace, albeit an atypical one.  Certainly, his new "family" with Jeisena and Ulwyn had become his saving grace in a way.  But now, with Jeisena having a kill-order out on her, Jo seems in danger of losing even that...

Yet I have to wonder: is his vision of Odjina brought on by exhaustion?  The Force?  Perhaps some other metaphysical connection, a combination of his experiences and his surroundings...

Could this be the workings of the Force in play: where Jo's once-prey/subject of revenge coming to his aid during his time of need, or is it too late?  The loss of his lightsaber seems to underscore that distinct possibility (I'm reminded where Obi-Wan emphasizes how the "weapon is your life," and, in Jo'Set's case, this might very well be the literal truth).  Whichever the case, it seems that Jo'Set'Mack is still the Maker's plaything...or at least playing through the lessons that he needs to learn.

On the other side of the story, our Aethans are beginning to see real progress, the near-completion of the Obelisk Array allowing them much better accuracy in finding those lost.  Of course, that's little help for those that are seemingly found, only to find themselves suffering from a crisis of character.  I feel for Karintha: with the chaos following the People's enslavement, whatever Old Ways that they have MUST feel as if it failed them, if indirectly.  How does one progress from a state of entropy without proper foundation?  And that's to say nothing concerning Karintha's own personal doubts...

Again: outstanding character study!  RotA is easily my favorite of LSG's "Aethan Cycle"  :)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 27, 2021, 10:06:42 AM
Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Rancors Growl — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/pvKhqW4/witches-Alwyn.png)
Nick of Time

“CEASE!”

The wretched broken body beneath her stretched bloody fingers toward her boot as Alwyn Hri yelled.

Two Reaper's who looked woefully worse for wear, tattered wet red veils across their faces and ichor powered scythes in their hands wet with fresh blood, stopped dead at the border.

Alwyn stepped to the front stopping just on the edge of the Totems that marked the Whistling Caverns Territory

“You will not inflict violence in My lands,” Her voice was firm and authoritative, enhanced by a touch of the Force.

“These are criminals wanted by the Dread Queen herself, turn them over!” the Reapers breathed ragged.

Karintha looked at the ‘criminals’ a man ground to all but dust by fatigue, a woman with a head wound and a child near comatose in fear.

Yorna behind her was already flicking her fingers sending thin red tendrils of healing energy to stabilise the injured, Evaea was nowhere to be sensed – undoubtedly already positioning for a fight - against these two rasping humans it would be very short.

“Do you have a warrant,” even as she spoke Alwyn nudged her entourage with the force to prepare. 

They had set out four days ago on the Tribute procession through the winding ravines, cliff paths and caverns and only just reached the border to Deepwood this morning.

<More than fortuitous timing> Yorna noted in the rapid cadence of their telepathy
<This is the hand of the Gods…ours and theirs> Karintha agreed.

The Reaper shifted uncomfortably, clearly they had orders but no proof.

Alwyn nodded

“Until I see a warrant with Lykana’s seal I accept these strangers under the rule of hospitium, by the sacred Law of The Winged Goddess Protector of Strangers and Travellers,” waving her hand Alwyn gave permission for other women of the Whistling Caverns clan in the caravan to attend them.

Yorna was there first - one hand on the woman’s head, the other on the man’s bleeding thigh as she sang an aetheric song to try and coax the child out of shock.

The Reapers fear spiked, yet Karintha knew it was not fear of Alwyn…but of their Dread Queen whom they had just failed severely.

“Lykana will hear of this!” one hissed

“See that she does,” Alwyn’s words were defiant and assured
“And tell her my tribute will be delayed by two weeks while you are at it,”

Frustration boiled as the Reapers stalked back along the river, Evaea reappearing high on an upper cliff face lowering her bow and arrow as the threat passed.
<Karintha!>

Karintha spun and knelt beside Yorna, Alwyn next to her as they turned the bodies over.

The male was vaguely familiar, Karintha scanned memories imparted to her by the others after her revival to recognise…

<Jo’Set’Mack>

Alwyn beside her turned pallid at the sight of the woman.

Jeisena

She was older, face worn by years and bloody from escaping the Reapers, but Alwyn knew her older sister.

All the surety Alwyn had just shown lost in an instant she croaked her next words.

“Will they survive?”

“Yes…their injuries are not life threatening,” Yorna quickly replied

“I can stabilise them for now but we need to return them to the caverns quickly,”

<<<<>>>>

The Whistling caverns were aptly named.

Deep in the Ravines they were a series of hundreds, if not thousands of natural caves and overhangs throughout towering cliffs divided by crystal blue waters and small bankside strips of forest.

At night cool air from on high whistled through the smaller hollows like a wind instrument creating a series of melodic whistles that were too pleasing to be natural – at some point the clan had likely ‘adjusted’ the smaller tunnels in the rock to produce the sounds, the natural effect was impressive regardless.

The opposite happened in the day as warm air from the valley floors rose up creating a different series of notes.

It was in the larger of the tunnels that the Clan was based, fires and rugs all about that were just like the sacred caverns on Aethas.

Through the carefully carved and decorated tunnels, beneath the wind chimes that hung from every ceiling to add to the orchestra they carried the three refugees.

Milaea, Kiraea, Kassyndra and Aresaea were waiting for them along with the other Headwomen of the refugee clans, the healers from these other tribes also prepared setting to work immediately with herbs, potions, lotions, incantations and bandages…

Karintha instantly felt worry from the others recognising the male.

<This is…beyond coincidence…> Ari noted
<We should end him now…use the aether to split an artery…they will think he died from his injuries> Kiraea’s thoughts were bitter and defensive.

Jo’Set’Mack had beaten Selaena with twisted borrowed powers, nearly beaten Valens and been a general thorn in their heel for months.

Now he had appeared again, battered, bruised and very far from home.

Karintha took charge.

<We learn what he was doing here first…Evaea you delve him while weak, Kassyndra back her up in case of any traps…> 

The two women set to work as Karintha walked toward Milaea who was the most distraught by his appearance.

<What bothers you?>

<It’s…what he reminds me of in myself> Milaea said honestly, Ari offering a comforting hand on her arm

<Vyth…the manipulation of Outsiders> Karintha looked again to the healers, their means would be effective, but the wounds were numerous, he would take months to heal - unless

<If not for him Milaea…then for yourself,> Karintha counselled placing her hand on the younger woman’s shoulders.

Milaea turned to Ari instinctively who nodded agreement.

Stepping forward Milaea joined Evaea and Kassyndra, red glow around her body as she begun repairing him far more rapidly than was natural while the delve began.  Ari smiled appreciatively to Karintha then joined Yorna in healing the woman.

Kiraea remained without a task, only scorn born of grief on her face.  Karintha stepped to her now.

<Look after the child Kiri, sing her a tune in the aether> 

Karintha knew this was risky tempting the fresh wound of Kiraea’s lost child, but she wanted her niece to heal.
Kiraea made no reply, turning her nose at the outsider child.

<Kiri…for yourself> Karintha pressed more firmly

A pause.  A glance to the child whom the old Magi Yzzerhera was checking.

Then a begrudging shrug that failed to give the lie to a spark of enjoyment as Kiraea went to comfort the child.

Revelling in her command of the situation Karintha now headed toward Alwyn who was speaking with Hetwoman Ianna, Chief Peola and Aun Frost Glade.

“There is much for us to discuss,”

<<<<>>>>

The patients stabilised, wounds sealed and clean within minutes, the gaggle of Dathomiri healers about them dumbstruck at the speed - It was less the ability that astounded them, their own traditions used much the same methods – it was the raw power four Aethan women could bring to bear while performing it.

“They’ll need lots of nutrient rich fluids,” Milaea instructed standing up,
“Ideally delivered intravenously while they sleep…” she turned to a magi healer
“Do you have any such devices,”

“Into the veins themselves yes, thin glass tubes and hollow reed needles in our tents,” the magi replied

“That should be fine, Ari let's go grab them,”

Milaea lingered a moment longer looking at Jo’Set’Mack as if searching for some recognition even as he lay unconscious.  None was forthcoming.

Yorna shared a glance with Kassyndra who was now standing collating the delve she had performed with Evaea, the older woman nodded.

“I’ll join you,” she said to her granddaughter.

<What news Evaea?> Yorna asked as the Dathomiri gently lifted and wrapped the injured parties to take deeper into the caverns that whistled with low sonorous tunes of the evening, the natural tubes crafted just so that as night fell the sounds were calming to the mind.

<This Jo’Set’Mack has been divided from the Mak’Tor Clan for some years, serving the other woman Jeisena, he came for their daughters naming, somehow has fallen afoul of Lykana after recognising this Varangian as an ‘Aetherian’>

<Then it’s true, the Varangian is one of us, and involved in the politics of this world>

<Truth>

Neither of them had any experience of Jo’Set’Mack, nor the Mak’Tor, but they were well aware that his knowledge of even one Aethan survivor was dangerous – should he report back to the Mak’tor the Jedi would soon hear and investigate. 

<That cannot be allowed> Karintha interjected as they opened the conversation to all the women present

<The Clan mothers are discussing this turn of events, again the split between the aggressive and conservative factions remains, the woman is kin to Alwyn, this complicates matters> Karintha reported from the meeting in a large cavern three floors down full of carefully carved chairs covered in Ko-seal fur traded with Aun’s clan in better times.

<The situation is complex, but if the Varangian is Aethan he may intercede with Lykana, perhaps put an end to any hostility that has arisen before we leave> Ari suggested as she helped the Desert Magi carry their vials and glass devices while Milaea worked with Chief Knissa preparing the nutrients and extracting plasma from Bolma blood for the base solvent.

<Agreed…> Karintha considered the best course not only for the People recovering lost kin but to secure a working relationship with the Dathomiri, the cultural similarities made them natural allies and Karintha was keen to strengthen the People through such friendships where possible.

<This meeting is coming to a resolution, I will advise of our next steps soon>

Kiraea had paid scant attention to the conversation as she sat beside the little girl who introduced herself as ‘Ulwyn’

“Mama is asleep?” she asked nuzzled into the Old Magi Yzzerhera’s thick skirts

“She is child, but will recover soon,”

The old woman of the Deserts noted that Kiraea kept a distance even as she leaned in wishing to comfort the child.  Yzzerhera had seen such a look many times in her nearly hundred years.

“Come why don’t Kiraea and I show you around the caverns,”

“hmmmm….OK….”

“Hoh-Kay?”

“It means she is happy to,” Kiraea smiled sadly recalling a time she didn’t know the Republic slang either.

Ulwyn took Yzzerhera’s hand and reach out for Kiraea’s, pausing briefly she gingerly took the tiny digits as they walked. 

They strolled up a level, the little girl wide eyed staring at all the wind chimes about the caverns that sung and whistled with Aether and Air, coming to where many of the looms and sewing stations were, Ulwyn impressed by the colours and variety.

As the little girl sat looking through a box of various balls of yarn Yzzerhera approached Kiraea, the elderly lined face repulsive to her aesthetic sensibilities, but the presence of the Magi undeniable in the aether.

“You have lost a young one…” the old woman stated
“As have I, two miscarriages, and three children, two as adults to Lykana’s Djinn…”

Kiraea remained unmoved even as she stared at the little girl…outsider child she may be…but a child still more than she had.

“My heart might fill with grief, to have outlived all those I treasured in my womb…”

Getting no direct attention from the standoffish woman Yzzerhera moved directly in front of her.

“But is a heart so limited in its capacity to love it cannot find room for grief for one lost and love for a new life?”

“Desert wisdom old woman?” Kiraea sneered to be lectured by an outsider.

“Wisdom of Life everywhere child,”

“Looks!” Ulwyn gasped finding something of interest among the yarn,

With a not disrespectful nod to the Desert Magi, Kiraea headed off to share in the girls youthful enthusiasm.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 27, 2021, 10:08:49 AM
Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  Rancors Growl — Part 2

(https://i.ibb.co/wpCfRwR/Lykana-MG9.jpg) (https://ibb.co/ZcK0VYV)

It writhed and spat as the ichor fist gripped its throat, Lykana disappointed she could not feel the tense neck muscles and bulging artery under her own finger tips.

Through the Vision Pool murky and green with ichor she punished the fools who couldn’t perform the simplest of tasks in disposing of an enemy.

Her anger slightly abated she released her grip.

“Fail me again and your head will decorate my wall,” she leered across the continent.

“Stay where you are, I will send further word soon,”

“Yes Dre….”

With a splash of her fist Lykana ended the connection.

“Jeisena…” the name like a curse on her lips.

“Bringing everything I have sought to prevent upon Dathomir, turning to off-worlders who will enslave us…”

Lykana had known only untied and following the True teaching of Allya would the clans be strong enough to maintain their independence and way of life.

She was keenly aware of the rapaciousness of the Hutts and other foul creatures that plied the stars, and for that very reason had created her armies to protect Dathomir, established caches, fortresses, relay networks…

And the tribute she demanded from the tribes was in the main used to sell to the few off world traders she could deal with for credits to purchase more technologically advanced defences and a retainer on a powerful off world Mercenary force until she had a space defence force of her own.

All while the short sighted fools in the lesser clans who saw nothing in the stars but constellations complained and resisted.

Now Lykana was vindicated by the betrayal of one of Dathomirs own daughters.

“We must act quickly, I tolerated Alwyn and her beggars too long, and now…”

She didn’t know why she bothered asking, the Varangian was of little use for conversation, only a useful sounding stone.

Her head throbbed, it had been too many days since her last renewal…was it four or…no only three…but this stress taxed her.

“I need to advance my plans…even if untested…the Ritual must begin soon…”

Massaging her forehead her hand came away with thumb sized flakes of skin.

She knew she could not live forever, that inevitably she needed to pass the heavy weight of the crown to a child of her own blood…

To her unending rage it was the one thing her mastery of the Arts had been unable to achieve.  No potion, spell nor totem had been able to open her womb, the seed of the most virile of male slaves, fathers of dozens of children failed to take within her. By the Fanged god she had even tried the Varangian hoping to birth a child with his incredible physical prowess!

She remained barren as the desert.

At first her use of the pyrrhic arts of Rejuvenation had been to extend her ‘fertile’ years in the hope she would naturally conceive…a decade and a half of failure later it had become an addiction. 

Every rejuvenation the blood price was higher, the effect dissipated more quickly, yet now her body could only survive through that malefic power. 

In her last five years she had perforce begun working on a new means of extending her life, hidden in the depths of her Sanctum, behind a false wall the Varangian had carved with his bare hands, for only that blank faced weapon shaped as flesh and blood could be trusted.

Striding away from the pool he touched the same old stone in her Sanctum that led to the narrow stairwell and to the reeking humid chamber the Varangian a silent shadow behind her.

There in the half lit room where candles flickered green with ichor infused envy were piles of parchment covered in eldritch symbols and calculations most of her own devising based on grimoires purchased from off-world written by Jed’aii and Sith’Ari.

“Please…” squeaked a tear sore voice behind an iron grate, the untouched plate of fine food beside it irritating Lykana.

Her future Vessel needed to remain strong.

“Feed her,” she ordered the Varangian who wasted no time opening the case to the young woman’s screams knowing that for the hundredth time he would force the food into her mouth.

Lykana raised the latest of her scrawling’s to the light as the woman gave up her futile resistance to the implacable warrior.

She scrutinised the formulae and Enchantment Symbols to be etched in the Ritual circle, making only the slightest adjustments with her quill.

It was not perfect, but there was no longer time to wait.

<<<<>>>>

Flashpoint
The Forests of Deepwood were familiar after only an hour, Dathomir a home away from home.

Moving quickly in their leathers, bows, daggers and swords, they spun through the air between branches of trees that had seen the Kwa come and go.

The Depth of memory here was incredible, Ari hoped to one day indulge her interest in archaeology and probe into this world's past.

Bounding off a large branch that barely shook as she sliced through the night air she glanced to Milaea just up ahead a quick smile between them brighter than the two moons that night.

She would especially love to indulge her…archaeological…desires here with Milaea.

Milaea suddenly stopped, Evaea and Karintha were up ahead, moments later Milaea signed the instruction received from Evaea in the vanguard

[Up ahead, six Reapers in camp]

Karintha’s plan was simply to make contact with Lykana’s people to secure passage to Blood Peak.

They held much esteem for their hostess, but felt it better to approach Lykana independently. 

The four of them had been travelling along the road for two days and nights while Kassyndra, Kiraea and Yorna remained in the Whistling Caverns.

[We approach on foot] Karintha signalled back.

As one they dropped soundlessly to the ground and formed together moving toward the orange glow through the trees, overhearing even at this distance the terse and anxious words of warriors expecting a battle soon.

[This does not bode well…] Ari signed
[We can only try] Mili smiled back.  They were both supportive of Karintha’s leadership so far, a measured and restrained approach Valens lacked, and her taking charge freed Milaea and Ari to spend more time together.

“Hold!” electro-spears and Vibro-Scythes at the ready they entered the fire lit clearing hands up in an placating gesture

“Who goes there!”

“Travellers,” Karintha replied
“I am Karintha, Daughter of the Three Goddesses of Aethas come to trade and learn, and search for a lost kinsman…I wish to secure passage, under escort if required, to speak to your Queen Lykana,”

The Reaper with the largest headdress sneered behind her red veil

“Why would the Queen wish to speak to such as you?”

“Is that not for the Queen herself to decide?” Karintha replied instantly,

The suddenness of which struck the Reaper quiet for a moment.

“You are an offworlder…I can smell it…”

The other Reapers began to slowly move to surround them.

“We are, but we seek only fair dealing and honourable exchange,” Karintha reached to her belt….the Reapers weapons glinted toward her yellow in the firelight that cast thick shadows

“A gift…” Karintha took her dagger from her belt, holding it by the blade she placed it on the ground then they all stepped back.

With a nod from the leader a Reaper approached and went to pick it up…finding Blackstone much too heavy for one hand she hefted it with both, checked it over.

“hmmmph…” the grunt was impressed as she handed it to the leader.

“…for you personally,” Karintha added as the Leader got used to the weight
“for your Queen we have other gifts befitting her exalted station,”

“Very well…you wish to speak to the Queen…we will see if she wishes to speak to you…this way…”

The Reapers slightly relaxing they followed.

<<<<<>>>>

He regretted waking up…

Now he could feel everything wrong with him….

His thigh, stomach, head, arms, legs…actually it was easier to list what was not sore and throbbing…his ears perhaps.

Despite this as he came to himself he jumped up.

“Ul…Ulwyn…”

“shhh…its alright…” a woman said beside him in the gentle candle light.  He was in some kind of cavern, a lullaby like whistle pervading the air along with the scent of rich herbs and earthy sheets.

“Your child and Mistress are safe,” Yorna smiled she had sensed the stirrings of the Mak’tor’s consciousness and wished to be there when he awoke…for a variety of reasons, not all of them healing. Should this Mak’tor prove to be here, despite the delves’ information, to find them, she would need to act swiftly to…incapacitate his intentions

“We found you at the border of the Whistling Caverns territory brought you here under the protection of Alwyn Hri and the clan,”

“Alwyn Hri…” he muttered, then cast the thought aside
“Jeisena Hri and Ulwyn, I need to see them, the Reapers they…”

A calming touch of the aether put him back down

“They are safe, you will see them come morning, they are sleeping and you are in no state to walk.”

Jo could feel the touch of the Force on his mind, it was not surprising given how many Dathomiri had it…but…as the woman turned to give him a cup of water…

Something about the lines of her face, the features were…beautiful…too beautiful…engineered…the red hair…no it couldn’t be…

A sudden tingle of cold up his spine refuted his resolution a moment later…

Yorna stood too swiftly – then faster than he could track with his normal eyesight she was at the rounded bead covered doorway.

“Something is wrong, stay here…”

<<<<>>>>

“What is the meaning of this!”

In front of the large entrance to the main Caverns stood three dozen Reapers, armed with Scythe, Sword, and crossbow, in front of them Alwyn’s scouts and guards from the road here to the River border with Deepwood tied and gagged on the ground…

And before all those, in his grotesque metal and bone armour the Varangian loomed like a monolith dominating the entire clearing where a market had once stood in better days.

Beside Alwyn were Ianna, Peola and Aun Frost Glade along with a dozen of her Warriors, beneath the gaze of two moons bordering the Constellation of the Fanged God…a portent that two foes would clash.

The wiry and old woman beside the Varangian stepped forward with a nasally voice declaring

“Her Exalted Majesty Lykana Daughter of Ayana, Daughter of Sera, Daughter of Allya Blessed Mother of us ALL, Ruler of All Dathomir speaks thus!”  She produced a bound vellum scroll dangling with waxen marks

“Jeisena Hri and Alwyn Hri are hereby declared Traitors to Dathomir, consorting with Offworld Powers seeking to undermine the Sovereignty of the Clans. They are to immediately surrender themselves for Trial, any who oppose this will share equally in their crimes.”

Metal clinked against bone fetishes as the Varangian stepped forward.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 27, 2021, 10:11:11 AM
Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  Rancors Growl — Part 3
(https://i.ibb.co/zVjZfsF/Kar-7.jpg) (https://ibb.co/zVjZfsF)

Three drops of green ichor splashed heavily into the small pool, dark gases wafting into the night sky.

The magicks essential properties were not unfamiliar to the Aethans in the basic principles, but the catalyst and energy sources were.

What was a puddle became a vision pool that etched out in waves a face of a woman, her colouring hard to tell in the green haze but she clearly had on some kind of light face paint and carefully drawn totems over that.

“What is it!” the voice carried irritation that the Reaper bowed to allay

“My Queen a delegation of Offworlders would speak with you,” she gestured for them to step forward, by mutual consent Karintha took the lead.

“Lykana Queen of Dathomir I am Karintha of Aethas, we have come to your world in peace to…”

“In peace! Cavorting with the traitors at the Whistling Caverns!”

“We have no interest in your internal politics, only trade and finding a lost kinsman of ours, we believe the man known as the Varangian may be he,”

All that Lykana had feared so long now came to fruition, Treason, invasion, and her best warrior imperilled.  

She regretted sending him now via ichor teleportation using the Old Lines of the Kwa Network - the fatigue from which shortened her temper -  offworlders were dangerous enough…if these women possessed any of the Varangians abilities…even half she was in dire peril.

Behind Karintha, Evaea backed up by Ari subtly probed through the Vision Pool, seeking any traces of Lykana’s emotions, Evaea’s subtlety was without peer…but so too was Lykana’s mastery of the Dark Arts.

Lykana felt the gentle tug that anyone else would’ve ignored as a minor tremor in the ichor and seized upon it.

“You dare try to invade my mind even as you preach peace!”

Only that Karintha’s facial expressions were too fast for Lykana’s eyes to process did she not see the shock as she realised just how powerful a witch this woman must be in addition to her political power.  This was not a woman who would be easily dealt with.

“Apologies,” Karintha lied quickly, “Our People, as you may be aware, are more open in sharing feelings across the ‘Force’”

“So you say…” Lykana sneered knowing full well the deception in Karintha’s words
“I know nothing of the Varangian being from off world,” she lied in turn,
“And he has never expressed a desire to leave, if you are true to your word and do not wish to interfere then leave Dathomir at once, We’ve no interest in dealing with off-worlders on any terms but our own,”

“Lykana…” Karintha said firmly
“You are a witch of great power and skill, a Matriarch, We respect that….”
She felt a supportive nudge from Evaea, Aresaea and Milaea, though with her seior powers Milaea could see how this situation would unfold, she was…consoled in a sense…that Karintha was doing everything she could to prevent it.

“…your affairs are your own, but where one of our People are affected we cannot and will not walk away, we have evidence one of our People is here, be it the Varangian or another we will seek them out for one month then leave – that is non-negotiable – your cooperation could bring great benefits to both our people…your opposition,”

Buoyed by Milaea’s support in particular Karintha at last spoke with the confidence and poise she had been lacking since her resurrection.

“…will be self defeating,”

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/tHvvZ18/Alwyn.jpg) (https://ibb.co/tHvvZ18)

So it had come to this.  Alwyn’s only surprise was it had taken this long, the accusation plausible enough she had to admit.

She stared at the shadowed helm of the Varangian, somewhere in those black depths must be eyes, a man once perhaps…now less than a servant, a mere object.

“Either way,” Alwyn said stepping forward herself
“I’m dead…” she turned to her friends and allies
“Save yourselves, this is fate is mine alone,”

She was going to fight Yorna realised from the shadows of the cavern entrance…and she would lose.

Kassyndra and Kiraea slid just behind her, instantly understanding the situation, all their focus drawn to the hideously armoured Varangian whose presence in the aether was an inflexible programmed will of iron chains dripping in ichor, barely even a sentient mind to be detected.

The Varangian moved to implement his Queens will.

The fifty humans there witnessed only an incomprehensible blur erupt before their imperfect eyes.

For the Four Aethans a war began.

<<<<>>>>

“You dare to come to my world and dictate terms and threaten me!” Lykana scowled irate, the skin beneath her makeup, fracturing as she stood before the Vision Glass surrounded by totems in her Sanctum.

“Leave Dathomir or be expelled, do not think I am without technology as you call it,”

Lykana was well aware her opponents might become radicalized enough to betray Allya’s vision further and turn to offworld help, she had contingencies in place to deter such….even so…

She was in the jaws of a wicked problem.  

The teeth above were the loss of her most potent deterrent in the Varangian, the inevitable loss of prestige in giving into an offworlder.

The teeth below were the gnashing blades of a battle with Hri and her offworlders now.

There was no escape from the Jaws of the Fanged God…when in his mouth the only option was to let go her hold and fall into the abyss of his blood thirsty throat.

She would hold on a little longer, and more importantly choose her….

No…

Karintha stiffened, Evaea vanished into the Cloak of Shadow by reflex, Ari looked to Milaea for confirmation of what she sensed.

Events had outrun them all.

<<<<>>>

Instead of Alwyn’s neck the Varangians vile sword, serrated and fearsome as his armour met a Blackstone blade.

The Sacred Laws of Hospitality compelled Alwyn to protect her guests, all Dathomiri, even Lykana would’ve understood this.  Aethans held hospitality, the practice of Xenia equally sacrosanct, but with a slight difference.

A Guest was also required to, if needed, protect their host – in a valley where Vorynx, Vosis and Votren could lurk; it was a necessary rule.

It was this obligation Yorna fulfilled now.

Alwyn’s hand was moving to take her short sword, Aun and Peola likewise reached for their weapons, the Reapers and Whistling Caverns women tensed to fight.

No human could have intercepted the blow.

Yorna could.

The weight behind the strike was enormous, shifting even her aethan weight.

By the time Alwyn and the others caught up to events occurring faster than their normal senses could trace the Varangian had swung fully through another two cuts both bounced against Yorna’s far smaller daggers.

The humans stood shocked, not because someone had resisted Lykana and the Varangian, that was common enough…rather for the first time someone was fighting him on equal footing.

The shock dissipated as the third meeting of Ichor infused steel meeting Blackstone sent sparks into the air.

The Reapers bellowed their war cries, Aun and Peola screamed in turn, the Whistling Caverns warriors observing from sheltered positions above the entrance way nocked their arrows.

The first battle began under the Twin moons that circled the Fanged Gods Stars.

Arrows bounced against hastily summoned kinetic wards, small sparks of lighting flew as runic talismans were invoked.

Aun charged into the fray Ice-stone small axes smashing into Scythe blocks.  Bladed boomerangs bounced off Peola’s blocks.  Silken Spiders sprang from the caverns knives in teeth upon the Reapers, Desert Tribeswomen rushed through the caverns Scimitars at the ready to join them.

Six of Alwyn’s guards were taken apart by three Reapers, their scythes spinning low to slice their shins like matchsticks.  A Witch face covered in dried blood hurled green flame that burst over Alwyns head as Kiraea counter fired her own.

The front rank of Reapers charge was undermined as Kassyndra hurled them back with a Telekinetic wave their wards and totems could not diminish.

The battle in the clearing turned fierce and frantic in seconds, but it was restricted to a ring around the true clash.

The Varangian and Yorna fought an inconclusive game of stab and parry testing each other's strengths and techniques.  He had physical prowess, she had reach and dexterity, but she wore only her comfortable leathers and cottons and carried two Oblivion Daggers, he was in full eldritch armour.

Yorna was used to training against physically larger and stronger opponents in Jarys especially, an unwitting edge given how few Dathomiri trained against men, she used that experience now, skidding and sliding on the increasingly churned ground to attempt to drive her blade into the few visible gaps in the armour.

The Varangian would tolerate none of it, the brutish survival instinct denying her every opportunity and leaving her with nothing but a series of near misses.  

Arrows bit through armour, scythes shattered swords, Magick melted flesh and metal.  The Desert Tribeswomen pressed on the right reinforcing the Whistling caverns warriors and Aun Frost Glade whose fury over her mothers loss was written in the frost bitten wounds of half a dozen Reapers.

Kiraea and Kassyndra remained behind the lines, in melee they could’ve done untold damage even with just their daggers, but their role was far more crucial in keeping the Reapers Witch Coven in check.  

Three High-Witches supported the Reapers with augmentations, and undermined their enemies with malacia and illusions – the Aethan women fired telekinetic support and counter aetheric flames when they could. The Witches worked as one deploying a variety of runic totems, Scrolls of Summoning, and Ichor laced Spells – the variance to Aethan techniques sufficient to deny the Guardian Trained meta-humans their usual advantages.

The Reapers who had arrived prepared for battle began to gain ground, the defenders roused from their beds lack of preparation beginning to show.

Alwyn rose from a wrestling match with her sword yanked from a bleeding chest, face covered in blood, only half of which was her enemies, and saw the inevitable.

“FALL BACK!”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on June 27, 2021, 10:11:50 AM
Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  Rancors Growl — Part 4

“Kill them!” Lykana’s voice cold as the grave as the Reapers turned on the four Aethans.

They had little forewarning of how outmatched they were until Evaea already hidden in the Cloak of Shadow decapitated the Leader.

With surprising resolve the others responded chanting incantations and hurling glass bottles filled with noxious gases that twisted into vile phantasms that chomped at Ari and Milaea with acidic teeth.

Karintha cast an illusionary pall of total darkness around the area, the orange fires hissing out in an instant.  Energised by ichor and hallucinogens the Reapers fought by instinct as primal as the Aethans, their headdresses and necklaces containing strong counter spells to buffet back the lighting Ari unleashed so precisely and shield against Milaea’s first wave of consciousness suppressing Mental Thorns.

The Reapers powers were both familiar and foreign forcing the Aethan women to intensify their attacks to overpower them. 

Ari’s lighting increased beyond normal voltage to shatter the stone runes, Milaea telekinetically followed through tearing the headdresses apart at a molecular level, the dust choking the Reapers nostrils as Evaea spun through them like a ballerina, each of her motions breaking bones.

As Karintha’s shroud lifted Ari knelt by one of the three wheezing survivors, the tragedy of unnecessary violence already breaking her heart.

<We tried…> Milaea’s telepathic voice carried equal sadness <…at least we can…>

<AUNTIE COME QUICKLY!> Yorna’s explosive alert interrupted.

<<<<>>>>

Her breathing was non-existent, her heart squeezing paused as she used the Rites of Aephordaea to expertly control her homeostatic systems to divert all possible resources to the fight with the Varangian.

His armour and speed, and skill prevented her from landing a blow with her dagger.

The single focused automaton mind lacking any ‘soul’ denied her anything to launch conventional mental attacks against.

Skulls ensconced between metal plates etched with intricate carvings that glowed in response to telekinesis, lighting or aetheric fire denied her an array of techniques.

Worse he was determined to finish Yorna off.

<Alwyn is falling back…we need to leave> Kiraea said

Rolling to avoid what would’ve been a bone shattering blow that cracked the ground for several metres Yorna was desperately trying to do just that.

She spun forward to slash the leather cord that bound one of the skulls on his belt – she reasoned if she could detach those his aetheric resistance would be weakened.

Crab stepping from a vicious spiked knee she pulsed a small telekinetic wave, it ruffled his stance a little more than last time proving her theory.

<I’ll help!> Kiraea primed ready to defend her sister

<Help the others, give me a few second more>

Mindless as he was Deadly the Varangian continued to hack at the lithe woman even as the Reapers advanced, Kiraea begrudgingly following her sisters instruction hurling bolts of lightning to cover the crawling and scrambling defenders.

<I’ll help the evacuation> Kassyndra added, her healing and logistical stills of greater value than her martial ones in the moment.

Yorna retreated back and flipped to stand as the Varangian advanced, the Reapers staying well clear of their fight.  Her eyes, thermal, aetheric and olfactory senses traced each and every piece of bone on his armour in the nanosecond he closed the gap.

Tensed and primed she unleashed with every limb and every level of consciousness she had.

Telekinetically enhanced lighting flared from around her body striking with millimetre precision on shatter point lines within the bones as she wove under then over his brutish blade to hammer her dagger into the saurian bone helmet he wore right between the eyes.

The Blackstone dagger bit deep and accurately, she followed with micro telekinetic blasts along the shatterpoint lines.  One instant solid the next all but dust his helmet vanished into the increasingly hot air.

As she regained distance from the serrated horns and spikes on his armour she turned to see his face.

It bore no emotion, eyes that looked but did not see, nose that took in air but did not breath...it was as blank as it was single minded…without meaning or purpose or memory beyond its owners desire.

But for Yorna it held shocking potency.

Taran…

Her uncle, husband of Karintha, Guardian and friend to all the People, the man who had helped her build a set of swings for her little sister, whose visits were always looked forward to for the honey he would bring from the lower villages….

There was no recognition in his eyes…only unstoppable purpose.

<AUNTIE COME QUICKLY!> she yelled across the aether by pure instinct.

She had not the heart to fight him further even as the last vestiges of his aetheric wards fell away…

The Reapers were all around, the cavern entrance on fire, even if she could disable him, she could not escape with him…no time to diagnose and breach whatever spell he was under.

She ran.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on July 02, 2021, 08:05:46 PM
I think that Lykana is about to learn the hard way that those that conquer by the sword, die by the sword...

But that's the problem with most despots, especially those almost solely reliant upon violence as a means of control: no matter one's superiority, there will be those that rise up against such tyranny.  Not that the Hri witches are necessarily better (if their descendants are anything to go by...), but Lykana makes too many mistakes in flaunting Dathomiri taboos and established social mores (certainly the fact that her Reapers are caught trying to assassinate Jo'set&Co. despite their protection within Hri Lands in and of itself would could become a rallying cry around which the opposition would gather to depose her).  And that's not even accounting for the Aethans...

Now that the Varangian has been unmasked as Taran, will they be successful in rescuing him?  Or after decades of enthrallment, is he too far gone?  Worse, could Taran awaken to his surroundings only to realize that he is the instrument of a despotic witch's vengeance and power-grab, responsible not only for countless deaths but those possibly including his People?  Which leads to another set of questions...

Can Karintha secure her position of Matriarch should she be called upon to make the hard decisions, in this case, having to kill the man that she called husband (the fact that he is unaware of his actions only seem to complicate matters)?  Given that her status is already tentative as-is, she will undoubtably find that whatever decision that she enacts will affect(/haunt) her for a while to come (should she survive...)

And then we finally come to Jo'Set.  Not dead but still surrounded by those who would see him submit...but be it to Justice, a traditional place, or some rare instance of elevated position pales in comparison to what he will ultimately face...

...and if he'll survive it  ;)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 04, 2021, 11:29:40 PM
 
Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 1

A Quieter Moment

Chaos and flame unfolded around him.

He was being shoved forward through the ever tighter caverns amidst a sea of bodies and screaming.  Behind Jo Set Mack could hear the sounds of blade and battle.

All he cared for was finding his daughter.

Terrified by the ugly ripple in the Force beside her still injured mother Ulwyn felt a great sense of relief as Kiraea swept her then her mother up effortlessly, one on each shoulder.

“Come on little gobril,” she soothed - despite being an outsider child Karintha had been, as always, right - Kiraea enjoyed looking after her and thought of nothing but ensuring she was safe as soon as the order to retreat had been given.

“wha…wha…”
“shhh…we’re gonna play a game ok, it’s called how fast can we run! Now hold on tight!”

Kiraea raced through a market's diversity of different skins tones, clothes and accents who pushed and jostled made refugees once more as the Caverns were set alight by the now loosed Reapers.

Straw beds, wooden wind chimes and hand spun tapestries were all set alight by the Reapers magicks as Kassyndra guided the Dathomiri out.

She felt a kinship with them already, their way of life so like her own. 

Yet their human limitations now began to show, shoving and scraping began as the women became desperate to escape, screaming for children they could not find, the men, largely servants, pushed to the ground or forgotten entirely, a few taking a chance to try and flee.

Filling herself with the aether she loosed five full levels of consciousness across the crowds, grasping their fear and soothing it like she would a frightened toddler, exuding a sense of calm she began guiding their minds with simple instructions.

Jo felt the push into his head, subtle, very subtle, and had he not experienced such before he would be unlikely to recognize it…this was not the piercing ravage or towering dominance he anticipated, it was a calm and focused guidance, motherly.

Kassyndra’s mind effortlessly streamlined the evacuation, the Dathomiri completely unaware of benevolent guidance. 

Children found mothers, blockages were cleared, panic was allayed. The effect intensified as Kiraea somewhere far ahead with the child of her nominal enemy joined with two levels of consciousness, positive synergy more than doubling her capacity as she drew on Kiraea’s greater knowledge of human psychology.

Everything seemed slower to Jo…yet the crowds were moving faster beneath torches and candles…it was dream like, he began walking against the tide glancing at the now if not calm then controlled faces

Not everyone was so accepting, Knissa, Clan Mother of the Silken spiders recognised the effect upon her, a modified version of the calming ‘venom’ spell her Fangs used to lower a victims awareness. 

Knissa knew this was done to help the evacuation, but the scale of it…what a being capable of this could do to a single persons mind…

“Clan mother?” a young scrambler tugged her silken waif like robes

“Nothing continue on,”

Scanning every face the crowds began to thin Jo finally saw in the tunnels darkened torch light the curve of the face he sought,

“Jeisena are you alr….”

The woman looking back at him was not Jeisena…by the Maker she looked like her, but her face was fuller, lacked the hollowing the poverty on Nar Shadda would always mark her with…

“Who…” Jo stopped startled

“No time Maleling, come…” Alwyn hardly recognised the man found with Jeisena, last she had seen his face was flushed and bloody as hers was now.

“No my daughter, Ulwyn…I need to find her…”

“Kiraea probably has her, I doubt anyone is safer, we need to leave now!”

Looking into her eyes he saw genuine concern, worry, and a kindness he had never seen in Jeisena…he trusted her, and followed without question.

<<<<>>>>

Blank eyes watched the cliff wall spew out black smoke in the morning light.

The Reapers had been reinforced with warriors of the Deepwood and Near River Clan in the last few hours…it mattered little the vast majority of the Whistling Caverns and their allies had escaped already.

Now a more sinister threat spread through the warriors.

Whispers – words.

They had seen a woman with blazing red hair clad only in leathers fight the Varangian to a stand still. 

This story spread quickly through the ranks, his armour absent of any Runic Skulls and sporting numerous fresh divots was walking proof to some two hundred Dathomiri warrior women and their War chiefs and Hunt Leaders.

In what had been the central well of the Whistling Caverns main living area, a vast chamber in the caverns filled with distorted whistles through the carved tubes of the cavern as the hot air from the fires destroyed the natural flow that would otherwise produce the rousing morning music, Lykana’s Equerry dropped ichor into the still pool to report what had occurred.

As she listened in her sanctum her skin cracked and flaked beneath her make up.

Not only had her warriors failed to defeat the off worlders, now Jeisena and Alwyn had slipped her grasp, and the Varangian had been…countered.

She could not allow this insurrection to spread.

She summoned her Covens, rallied her banners then descended to the deepest of her chambers.

In the darkest alcove where only she had ever stepped sat, beneath ichor forged chains a flayed skin book, a grimoire created by Allya and Aiesha, her ‘Dark’ daughter whom in her senility she had disowned the legacy of. 

These were the most potent and powerful of Allya’s True legacy, her traitorous successors had chained it, but never had the stomach to destroy it. They knew they had betrayed her, and in their shame kept it.

Lykana cracked the brass lock with a green shard of energy from her fingers.

The grimoire flew open hungry to be read.

She would feast with it.

<<<<>>>>

It was an irony of sorts.

The very clearing in the deep ravines Alwyn had given over to the refugees to settle was now where she had to flee to as the caverns she loved were burned and occupied behind her.

The evacuation had been calm and controlled, far more than she thought possible.  Knissa spoke to her on that…the off worlders had – assisted..

For now she was just happy to have them onside.

It took three days to reach the ravines, during which time Karintha and the other offworlders had re-joined them,

When they dropped from the trees to join her there were no words necessary, they all knew the bones had been cast.

Even so Karintha and Milaea approached her apologetically.

“Our arrival,” Karintha said “Seems to have stoked Lykana’s paranoia concerning you and caused this loss…we are truly…”

“No,” Alwyn shook her head

“It was only a matter of time before something broke, either Lykana’s tolerance or our patience…now is a good a time as any…and I must thank you…specifically Yorna, have you seen her”

“Not yet,” Milaea said “She had to take a ‘long’ way round the caverns to escape, but she’ll be here soon…and she confirmed that the Varangian is one of our kin…Taran,”

“Somehow,” Karintha seethed, “Lykana controls him, he was a Guardian of our people, a function much like your arbitrators and judges, but also a warrior in his prime when…”

Milaea placed a hand on her shoulder, the revelation of her husband’s survival, and condition stirred in Karintha conflicting emotions…primarily cold burning rage.

“…when our people were attacked, for Lykana to control him, she must be a very powerful witch,”

“She is a direct descendant of Allya,” Alwyn explained as they walked along the narrow paths steep drops into thick forests either side of their caravan.

“She genuinely believes she is continuing Allya’s true legacy…and many agree…” Alwyn shook her head frustrations and tensions given voice at last

“Allya was not the scion many make her out to be, she was a powerful but flawed woman who, after uniting the tribes under a single code came to slowly change how she governed from dictatorial to first among equals. It went hand in hand with how she approached the Arts, as she aged she realised the danger in using dark magicks, necromancy, blood magic and eschewed them, cast out those who continued to practice them…”

“The Night sisters?” Milaea clarified

“Yes…her life was long, and legacy mixed…Lykana does represent how Allya ruled for nearly thirty years, albeit more forcefully…the Book of Law my Clan follows came only in Allya’s last fifteen…”

“A mixed legacy indeed…” Karintha noted “…you can both claim her example rightfully…yet surely that which yields most peace and prosperity to the tribes is the better path.”

“And there lies the rub…” Alwyn massaged her own brow

“Before Lykana the tribes were independent, free to trade…but also to raid each other, petty feuds over grazing or hunting rights turned bloody, succession within tribes could be just as bad, civil wars exploited by neighbouring tribes…Lykana ended that with a Wuffa Worm round our throats…too busy gathering tribute then travelling to Blood Peak to fight among ourselves”

Alwyn gazed up through the foliage as the sun reached its peak,

“She went too far though…too far…”

That evening Yorna arrived, emulating Evaea’s Cloak of Shadow she had avoided the Reapers and knew they would be heading to the Refugees clearing.

She was met as she headed to join the others by stares and gasps.  The tale of her battle with the Varangian had already spread.

Jo watched as she wandered past, his heart sinking more and more as he realised what these red headed women scattered among the Clans were.

Aetherians…at least six of them…they all looked alike to him except their hair styles.

And one of them at this moment sat with his child on her lap, chatting to Jeisena who had more from the shattering terror of the force than healing awakened.

“…and then we went on a big run…it was very dark…” Ulwyn told of her ‘adventure with Aunt Kiri’

“Well you were a very brave girl,” Jeisena said approvingly, stroking her daughters face.

“And very well behaved,” Kiraea added before meeting Jo’s gaze for a brief second, recognition and venom in her green eyes.

He needed to tell Li, Yoda, anyone who would listen.  But he had no comms and doubted anyone here did…but he had to look...

Kiraea gently stroked Ulwyn’s hair, for her this was all a big adventure…with a few scary parts…

For Jeisena it was a reminder of far too many mistakes she had made…coming back the largest.

“Come on river sprite, let’s talk to your aunt…” Jeisena said reaching out to Ulwyn and hefting her up.  She wound toward the Chiefs and Clan Mothers areas, the guards eyeing but allowing her through. 

She knew them from before.

Alwyn was speaking with Yzzerhera and the woman who had fought the Varangian…or one of them…they all looked the same.

“Alwyn,” she called out, her sister looking across to her, taking a deep breath and making her apologies.

“Jeisena…Clan Mother a moment…” the elder matriarch nodded and stepped out of the tent

“Well don’t you have great timing…” Alwyn said bitterly

“I came here for my daughter, to name her properly, nothing more,” Jeisena replied defensively

“Fine, we’ll reach the springs tomorrow anyway you can…”

“I know where the springs are, I haven’t forgotten,”

“Really,” Alwyn crossed her arms
“After what? Twenty or more years?”

“I didn’t choose to leave!” Jeisena snapped “And I wish I hadn’t”

“You think it was any better here!” Alwyn replied incredulous

“You have no idea what I’ve been through, what is out there!” Jeisena pointed to the stars
“I was nothing out there, scrambling to eat at times, the chattel mother sent with me I had to sell to survive, the ones that weren’t killed or ran away, I ended up stuck on Nar Shadda selling magick for food,”

Alwyn had no idea what or where ‘Nar Shadda’ was Jeisena realised

“And it was better here! I was left to pick up the pieces after mother died, pay the tribute owed without all the goods and chattel she had sent with you! It took years!”

“Mother sent me away for my own protection, I was fifteen, I had no choice, I never wanted to go, and I couldn’t get back until…recently…”

Resentment at being left to ‘hold the Kodashi Viper bag’ bubbled up…then settled back down as Alwyn truly looked at her sister, face creased by care worn lines, cheeks gaunt from a time undernourished…

“Mother made a mistake…” Alwyn offered a featherfern of peace

“She did…” Jeisena agreed
“But I’m sorry to hear she’s passed…” she looked to Ulwyn
“I’d hoped for her…”

Alwyn stepped closer, Ulwyn who had been lost between all the noisy words reached out with a smile – Alwyn took her hand.

“A nice reunion,” Milaea noted startling Jo who had been watching, not intentionally he had been trying to find a male to speak to that didn’t cower or simply shake their head in the hope of finding some comms device.

“I…I…” he gazed startled at someone he was certain he had seen die in the plasma fires of Ord Mirit.

“Were looking for something like this…” she held up her own commlink

He swallowed hard not knowing what to do.

“You won’t find one…and I won’t let you…come walk with me,” she guided him a few dozen metres toward the edge of the forest.

“I know you’re here for your family, and so are we…so…”

“So…” he finally had the nerve to speak

“So let us be here for our family, circumstances have brought us together in an unusual way…our goals are aligned, Lykana is a threat to your family, and holds one of ours captive…”

“The Varangian,” he sighed contemplating his next words carefully.

“Lykana…” he finally said “sent her bitches to try and kill my wife and daughter…and you know I’m not a forgiving person…”

Milaea nodded, his name was a byword for Outsiders irrational desire for vengeance, yet the People still, as far as they could, respected Jo for it.

“…and I can’t think of anything worse I can do to get back at that schutta than sit back and let you monsters have at her….no offence”

Milaea nodded, she hadn’t even needed to influence him, but there was one more issue to resolve.

“And after?” she asked

“After…” his lips pursed as he forced the next words out. “I forget I ever saw you,”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Milaea agreed.

“I’m sure you will, now…”

Jo grinned wryly

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to get me a lightsaber would you?”

<<<<>>>>

Her husband was alive...in Goddesses knew what painful chains...but Alive.

Karintha stalked the edge of the camptrying to keep her hopes restrained by reality as she diverted toward the wide worn tents of the Magi.

The old woman, Yzzerhera, was seated outside waiting for her, the prescience of the powerful woman perturbing Karintha momentarily before she approached head held high.

“You know why I am here?”

The Magi, inarguably the most powerful woman in the Arts on Dathomir behind Lykana nodded, standing with help from a cane she guided Karintha into the tent where large scrolls were unwound on a small table covered in inky black flowing script.

“These are the writings on the means of controlling a body…” the sand coarse voice of the magi explained as Karintha glanced over the writings, her advanced cognition slowly translating a script she had neer seen before.

There were three mechanisms in the main Yzzerhera explained to achieve the control Lykana had on Taran -

Blood bonding in which a witches blood was injected into the host, burning if they disobeyed – Aethan immune systems would decimate such foreign cells too quickly.

Mental manipulation, essentially an advanced mind trick, again impossible even for a witch of Lykana’s ability to maintain against an Aethan mind that had six times a human's cognitive capacity.

The means had to be Soul Suppression, his very self locked away and replaced by a golem like instinctual obedience to a female that could draw on his muscle memory to fight – and of all the Guardians of the old generation he had the most of that apart from herself and Old Andis.

The only true effective means of breaking such, was breaking the Witch who had performed the Rite before she could enact the ‘Soul Eater’ a trap to destroy the suppressed soul entirely in the event of any attempt to dispell, then waiting out the chains dissolving over an unknown time period. 

And then there was the possibility that after so long suppressed Taran would be...degraded...beyond recovery.

 “The Varangian is more to you than mere lost kin isn’t he,” the Magi said sensing both excitement and dread in the offworld woman

“You are wise magi, he was my mate, and as much as I long to reunite, I must contemplate the risks you have outlined.”

The aged woman nodded

“A hard path to walk, the needs of our People and the needs of ourselves…”

“I am prepared to euthanize him if needed,” Karintha replied

The Magi gazed into her eyes,
“Many would claim that…but you actually mean it,”

There was understanding in the sand worn eyes, the Magi saw what Karintha intended, for Taran and the Dathomiri.

Karintha would not let the opportunity to study and perfect Dathomiri magic to slip, regardless of what occured with Taran, the People could profit immerasabuly from new abilities and allies.

“We all must do what is best for our Peoples,” Karintha noted uncomfortable under the powerful gaze of the old human.

“That is our burden and our joy,” The Magi agreed, knowing full well she herself would need Karintha and her kind for any chance at retribution against Lykana.

<<<<>>>>

The sun rose directly down the path of the ravine onto the small assembly, Alwyn, Yzzerhera, and the other Clan Mothers and chiefs, the Aethans as their guests, a few cousins and of course Jeisena with her child.

Into the small spring she lead her little girl, splashing water over her head, invoking the sprites and spirit of the trees and river to bear witness to the Gods that this child was Ulwyn Hri of the Whistling Caverns, daughter of Jeisena, covering her face with white ochre she added on her Clan and family lines much like her own.

A beaming smile Ulwyn was presented with a number of small name day gifts.

Quietly amidst the trees Jo watched as his daughter took another step away from her Mak’tor heritage, a tear of both sadness at the loss and fear for her future in this growing war.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 04, 2021, 11:30:22 PM

 
Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War  — Part 2
Council
“We tracked six scouting groups, 5 Reapers in each operating out of two base camps, one in the caverns the other in the falls to the west,” Knissa briefed the assembled chiefs and headwomen along with Karintha on what her Spider Clan scouts had seen.

“It is only a matter of days before they find us here...if not less,”

“The Varangian?” Ianna asked, limp left arm twitching every time she spoke or heard the title of her punisher.

“Not among them that we could see,”

The Dathomiri position was dire, the ravines were difficult terrain to pass through, and the Whispering Caverns hunters knew dozens of locations to hide in - but with few supplies and many mouths it would only be a week before they were forced to move on.

Yet they had nowhere to go.

“We could,” Karintha offered “Provide you with transport, bring in supplies, until Lykana is dealt with,”

“Dealt with?” Peola asked

“She has abducted and enslaved one of my People, we will not leave until he is freed and his abuser dealt with according to our traditions of judgement.”

Such was far easier said than done, Lykana was a powerful witch, her hold on Taran obviously deep and peppered with failsafes, Karintha needed her and the other women to learn extensively from the Dathomiri on how to deal with both before they engaged Lykana directly. 

“We appreciate the offer,” Alwyn avoided the more threatening note her ‘ally’ had struck on

“But we will not use ships and offworld weapons in this fight, we will live or die following the Book of Law and our traditions...But I agree the Varangian is one of your kind, Lykana has turned to offworld arms first, your participation is justified by her breaching the Law first,”

The other Clan Mothers nodded in agreement.

“Very well, we will respect your choice,” Karintha replied knowing it would make the situation much more difficult, though she had already summoned the other women of the People to bring two of their Destroyers laden with weapons, food and medicine...and provide clandestine orbital surveillance.

“We will use only our native weapons and armour as you’ve seen,”

“We appreciate that,” Alwyn said
“We still must determine what we do from here, we cannot hide, we cannot run, and we could fight but not for long”

“You could march,” Karintha suggested

“March?” Ianna asked

“There are doubtless other tribes who chafe under Lykana’s rule, once they learn her Champion is not only from offworld, but all too mortal, as well as the baseless attack on your caverns, they may be willing to join a larger uprising,”

Milaea had warned Karintha of the strong effect Aethan emotions and thoughts could have on lesser beings, how humanoids could be unconsciously drawn in even without mental manipulation.  She used that now exuding a matriarchal confidence.

“Send word to your allies of these events and march to meet them, you must know hidden ways out of the ravines, then confront Lykana once and for all,”

“I agree, we’ve been cowering too long, it’s time to fight back,” said Aun
One Karintha thought
“Should Lykana send the Varangian you can be confident my People can deal with him,” Karintha assured

Ianna felt the twitch in her arm again, but this time a note of confidence in her bosom, they had in these new allies seven of the Varangians kind, there had never been a better chance.

“Without fear of him I know many tribes would be more than happy to cast off the yoke, the Reapers are vicious but they can be dealt with,” Ianna agreed
Two
“My scouts can carry the word and leave the ravines in two’s and three’s easily,” Knissa added

“But we will need a majority of the clans to show Lykana she has lost their confidence,”

A partial three

They all waited on the words of the ancient Yzzerhera.

“We cannot live so far from our homelands,” her husky voice was respected by all,

“And never before have we had the means by which to truly understand and counter the Varangian...Lykana remains strong, but with her enforcer outed as an offworlder, and our own allies who can contain him,” she glanced toward Karintha

“We shall not have a better chance, and we do not have another choice,”
Four all she needed.

“Then it is agreed, we sent out envoys, gather resources and march to where we can find allies,” Alwyn concluded, all well aware this would be a gruelling task with no guarantee of success. 
 
The witches of Dathomir were cetain of one thing - the only thing worse than all the time they had lived in Lykana’s shadow, was to suffer there for one day more.
<<<<>>>>

First Engagements
“Forty…” Yorna sighed from the top of the thin ridge overlooking the pass.

While there were dozens of ways for a handful of warriors to sneak out of the Ravines into the forests to the south, getting all the tribe's people and chattel meant they were limited to three larger path’s south.

<It will have to do…> Karintha telepathically sent back from the main caravan.  Aethan telepathy had proved a boon to the Dathomiri, it appeared to operate on a frequency of the aether the Reapers could not detect, as a result they had been placed with the spider clan scouts to send back information as quickly as possible to guide the caravan away from Reaper patrols.

<All the other passes are more closed off, forty we can take,>
<And four Rancors?> Yorna added with a hint of excitement
<We will find out soon>

The Dathomiri ‘army’ was small, only 250 warriors in all.  Warfare was meant to be largely non-fatal clashes of Champions common to worlds with small populations, however the Varagian and the Reapers rarely adhered to such.

<We should launch a distraction at one of the other passes> Ari suggested even as she tinkered with Dathomiri Runic charms under the guidance of one of the junior Magi following Karintha’s insistance all learn as much from the Dathomiri as possible.
<Force them to divert troops>

<We can test some illusion techniques…> added Kassyndra intrigued by the ichor based magics she had already read half a dozen tomes saved during the evacuation…only two of which had been given freely, the other four she and Kiraea had snuck off with two nights before.

The word ‘test’ worried Milaea, the Dathomiri did not understand that for the People, being ‘allies’ meant the People learning everything you knew and observing your abilities then hurling you into battles that suited the People.

Ari, Kassyndra and Milaea headed with a group of warriors to the more westerly pass while Kiraea and Evaea joined Yorna overlooking the route they intended to take.

“Time to try those new illusions,” Ari said as the three women crawled through the prickly leafed shrubs spying a patrol of Reaper scouts on the far side of the ravine, distinguished by their avian beaked head pieces, slick form fitting leathers embedded with light green glowing runes that could be activated to to provide a chameloline cloak effect.

“I’ll draw off the scouts,” Ari said as she slipped back into her modified Buried Presence.

Kassyndra began stringing the ritual words drawing as much as she could only on the natural energies of Dathomir while Milaea flicked her fingers drawing a protective circle of Dathomiri warding to protect and conceal them.The younger Aethan finding the primitive darkness of the aether on Dathomir harder to work with despite the similarities to her homeworld. 

Aethas always had a ‘red’ feel, Dathomir was more murky green

Hence the Ichor she mused as the circle was completed and glowed briefly before settling over them.It would’ve been easier to draw on her own power than the planets, but the foreignness would be more noticeable to Reaper witches who were alert.

On the rocky path below shadowy figures coalesced from green smoke woven through Kassyndra’s mind, a march of faux people and carts that became more solid every moment as she wove in more detail.

The scouts were gone, with Saani’s training she was more than capable of playing Chitlik and Nexu with the best hunters, Milaea wouldn’t be surprised if the Scouts found themselves tied and unconscious long after the caravan had gone.

The regular guard spied the illusionary caravan with their curved Glass-scopes.

Excitement rose but the 40 warriors at Yorna’s location remained stubbornly in place

<They’re not taking the bait…>

Alwyn was barely half an hour away with the caravan, they had hoped at least 10 or fifteen would be redeployed to Kassyndra’s distraction.

<Evaea how many can you take before they notice?> she asked the assasination expert

the darker haired woman assessed the overlapping fields of view and positioning on the rocks either side of the path.

<Seven, Nine if the one on the highest look out is facing north for longer than three standard minutes>

<I’ll take that one,> Kiraea replied as they began to move.

Keeping to the shadows and dense foliage clinging between the rocky ledges they slid behind the Reaper lines. Oblivion daggers slid as smoothly into necks as from their sheaths as they set to work.

Evaea methodical and swift eliminated the nine she had promised as Kiraea took the highest then second highest look out. The contrast between the dutiful approach of Evaea and the vengeful glees of Kiraea stark. 

By the time the alarm was sounded they had dispatched 17 in less than two minutes.

The response was rapid, the Reapers forming into threes, Kiraea did not even pause in her aggression, striking hard against one of the retreating Reapers, leaping onto her back and stabbing down in a cascade of blood for all the others to see. 

Runes and spells were activated an instant later, the Reapers inured to brutal combat more than any other Dathomiri,  harnesses tugged to direct the rancors at the attackers.

Evaea half flying leapt onto the back of one taking the riders head, Yorna switching to her bow peppered another with arrows as Kiraea dodged the claws of two nearer ones.

The Aethan women soon found themselves on the back foot against the Reapers, Karintha’s earlier rapid victory over a handful had ill prepared them for a combat ready force, the combination of Dathomiri magick and unique combat style with their electro-weapons and mounts making for a deadly threat when outnumbered.

Ichor and aether ground against each other, two ways of using the force so distinct yet so similar, even as bodies pressed and muscle strained in the clash.  The Reapers human bodies enhanced by narcotic fungi and herbs consumed before combat and powerful Runic enchantments made them, if not a match, then at least able to hold their own for a few moments against Aethan genetic engineering. 

Kiraea’s blackstone blade sliced into thick rancor hide as electro scythes crisped the edges of Yorna’s gormin leather, Evaea danced against the ritual like synchronicity of the Reapers blades and blow darts so like her own toxic armoury.  A few struck the hyperkeratin Aethan skin, but only one breached, immune defences the product of millenia of scientific planning, rapidly destroyed the toxins fatal to most humanoids.

They were pushed harder and harder, the standard tactic of relying on their biological and aetheric endurance to wear the Dathomiri out negated by the rancors extraordinary durability and the Reapers drawing on the ichor of their home world effortlessly.

Driven toward a corner they were only liberated by a sudden wave of arrows from Spiderclan scouts, Whispering Caverns spear vanguard taking the Reapers from behind.

The first blooding of the war ended with forty reapers and four rancors killed for only a few bruised and exhausted Aethans.

More importantly the caravan was able to escape the narrows of the ravines and while it marched south fast running agents were dispatched across the lands to collect allies and resources.

Karintha, eyes narrowed on the opportunities of the present would ensure her People remained at the center of the action.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 04, 2021, 11:31:45 PM
 
Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 3

Recruitment
”The tale of the Flame Haired Woman who defied the Varangian is already spreading,” Hetwoman Ianna began, “Lykana’s most fearsome warrior has met a match…we must spread it further,”

Kassyndra handed over the Gerege. The Silent Ponds Guard looked over them and nodded, the only oddity was they were a bit too clean.

The reason for that of course was they had to remove the blood off from the Emerald-Seas woman they had ‘taken’ it from.

The raid had been short and brutal, Kassyndra, Ianna and her warriors had been tasked with disseminating papyrus paper drawings showing the fight between the Flame haired Woman and the Varangian in the east, the best way to do that was by boat…

After sneaking past the Reapers that patrolled the coastline she and her warriors had accosted the crew in port, and when they declared their undying devotion to Lykana had to find other means to convince them to part with the necessary documents.

A week and some haggling with a more amenable trading vessel from the Brine Coast for whom the Gerege would allow them entry into a number of new ports, and they were now going port to port dropping off papyrus and having their minstrel teach the local artisans the new ‘Ballad of Yarana Red Mane’ and her battle against the Bone and Steel clad ‘Kurgen’.

With a bored sigh the guard handed the gerege back, a determined step she hopped off the gang plank onto the cobbled streets to do it all again.

<<<<>>>>

”There are few resources in the Whistling Caverns to make weapons…but in the north there is Ice Stone, steel, tin…and strong men,” Aun Frost Glade always brightening when she spoke of the North and the pine forests of her home,
“Lykana’s sway is loose there at the best of times, and her envoys few…”


“D’is one, HAW!” the deep bass voice of Haldan the Hetman of the Rinki’s Glaciers boomed across the camp to the laughter of the other men.

A male only camp that the Pine Forest Clan had a Mate raiding relationship with, it was surrounded by harsh granite and frigid ice, the men themselves hairy thick built,,  pale white skin and blonde or red hair.  Haldan by some trick of genetics a head taller than anyone, arms like tree trunks across his chest, canis skulls on his belt, and more than a few old bite scars on his face.

“You have my word she is,” Aun replied standing beside Yorna, whom the men refused to believe was the one who had stood toe to toe with the Varangian – after all their last chief had been killed in the Field of Padraas by the monster.

“Our forces march against the Tyrant Queen, we welcome any who wish to volunteer, and further to trade for your iron and stone,”

“Haw! We trade with you the Varangian will come us!” the man only shouted, given the constant polar winds Yorna could understand why.

He leaned down a little toward the fearless Aun.

“But ere, I’ve no love for the Queen…Hrmm if your champion can beat me and my three best warriors, then we’ll follow you,”

Aun looked to Yorna who nodded agreement.

A circle in the snow was soon marked out and Haldan and three men only a few inches shorter and just as stout surrounded her to the bear like booming cheers of the other men.

“Don’t hurt them too much!” Aun called over the crowd, a series of laughs and boos echoing in reply.

Yorna stood in a loose open stance as the horn blew for the fight to begin.

Human speed was at times comically slow, even with a touch of the arts, the men were much slower.  They knew this of course and hoped their bulk and numbers would compensate.

They had no comprehension that engineered ultra-dense cells and bone meant Yorna weighed as much as three of them combined.

With a quick leap and round house kick straight in the head of the first she half landed on the victims shoulder then leapt to the next, heel in the back of his neck. 

Staying elevated she twisted horizontal to grab the third by the hair and bring his head to the ground with her, rolling up into an upper cut that Haldan barely blocked.

Grunting against the unexpected strength the big man lurched as her rapid combo’s tenderised his thick muscled arms crossed over his face as his companions flopped about in shock.

With a brief pause in her attack Haldan struck back with surprisingly fast sweeps of elbow and knee.  She allowed some to connect if only to emphasise the fact she was far heavier than he expected, they were mild compared to what an Aethan could inflict.

She darted behind, drop kicked him in the back of the knees, sending him down with a grunt.

“Proof enough?” she asked coming in front.

“NrrghhAAAH!” even on his knees he went to grab her, an easy sidestep and she slapped his head into the snow.

“erghhh…” he growled from the ground.

“I believe you Aun Frost Glade…” he relented, brushing himself off while the men looked at Yorna astounded.

“Any who wish to join in the fight may!” he boomed
“Any cowards who wish to keep licking the shavit hole of the Bitch Queen may taste my fist!”

<<<<>>>>

”Many of the Shadow Clans joined Lykana…” Chief Knissa of the Silken Spiders explained “Those that did not have retreated deep underground, their alchemies of deep fungi and stalking skills will be invaluable if we can find them”

The endless drip of ground water leaching back into the caves covered some of their sound.  Or rather hers.

Kiraea squeezed and slid through the narrowest of the lightless gaps attempting to copy Evaea’s Cloaking technique as best she could.

The immediacy of the war effort had let her lose herself in the now, sneaking through airy chambers filled with bulbous thread woven eggs that she could only see with her mass and thermal vision.

The Venom Eye clan were insular even among the various Spiderclans of which Knissa was a part of, staying out of the wars that heralded Lykana’s rise, doing little to deny rumours Lykana had them as private assassins or in complete contradiction had the Varangian eliminate them entirely.

Pressed against a hollow in the wet stone Kiraea simply hoped they had an easier way out of this network of Gaping Spider nests.  The slow tense progress was straining her patience and Evaea was not the best conversationalist.

The scuttling of scores of legs finally passed and she glided fast and smooth to the next opening, each more narrow than the last, she was worried she would come to one too small to enter, Aethans taller and wider than Dathomiri as a rule.

Squeezing her shoulder though she found the other side was a two metre drop, with a gentle twist she landed silently.

But not silently enough.

Her spine tingles with danger and instinctive kinetic shields blocked the poison darts her movements couldn’t avoid.

More came in the absolute dead silence as Evaea followed in

<Attack?> the younger girl asked
<No the sign> Kiraea responded suppressing her own natural desire to unleash a counter attack.

Instead she wove her hands, slapping palms and fingers against her forearms in a sequence Knissa had taught her after Karintha had ‘volunteered’ her and Evaea to undertake the first contact.

The darts stopped and a dim red light lit from the floor.

A face lit from below appeared to hover in the air, an arachnid symbol on the forehead that draped its legs in lines down the face.
“Who disrupts our peace?”

“I am Kiraea, daughter of Aethas…friend…” that word still seemed strange
“..of Knissa of the Silken Spiders.  She sends greetings and this…”  Kiraea took out the lock of hair and threw it.

It never even hit the ground so swift were their skills, impressing even Evaea. Karintha was right there was much they could learn from these Dathomiri as their ‘allies’.

“..many clans have united against the Dread Queen, they seek the friendship of all the sister clans tribes of the Spider,”

The face vanished into black.

“We will consider your words,”

<<<>>>>

”All the old places of power…” Clan Mother Yzzerhera explained ancient thin finger hovering over a map older than she of Bolma skin, not roads but  Ichor Lines that flowed between shrines and hallowed natural places of power.
“Have been taken over by Lykana’s Covens, energies diverted straight to her…we break the dams to empower our witches and diminish hers,”


Like a twisted gnarled piece of drift wood the Tower of Burra near faded into the pouring rain along the coast.

There was no obvious defence or checkpoint along the muddy road, even so Milaea and the old Magi were cautious to approach through the overgrown hard leaf shrubs.

The power of the place went deep into the cliffs that overlooked the ocean, it seemed older than stone of the tower, perhaps built upon a nexus point of the ancient Kwa species rumoured to have once dwelt here.

Crouching at the edge of the clearing around the tower they saw shadows move past the fire lit windows within.

“Only four,” Milaea whispered, tough given the pounding rain that reverberated off her gormin leather cloak she ought to have yelled to be heard.

“Yes…but strong witches still…what Ichor energies are not sent to Blood Peak, they draw on for their own use.”

The Magi paused

“This is a task for the young I think…”

Yzzerhera was strong in the aether, a practised Magi exceeded only by Lykana herself according to the other witches, and Milaea suspected stronger than Kiraea or Ari…but the Magi was physically frail.

With a respectful nod Milaea stalked forward, presence suppressed using one of the new stealth variants from the spider clans.

Swift Jedi parkour climbed the side of the tower, peeking into the wide open centre where three witches chanted around a deep glowing ichor pool, a younger fourth attending to the various Totems on the walls that chained and directed the energies of this place. Dathomiri Magick was sufficiently distinct from Aethan Arts to give Milaa some pause. 

Observing the chants for a full cycle to understand the nature of the incantations and purpose, Milaea struck fast and hard.

Glass shikkars shattered four of twelve totems Ichor Crystals, two more from her oblivion daggers as she dropped from the window onto the Fourth witch, knee slamming the woman into the ground, throat first into unconsciousness.

Half their totems gone the witches broke incantations summoning defences – vicious glowing phantasms, sense altering perceptual distortions, and hate filled curses.

The combination was intense, forcing Milaea on the defensive, Dathomiri counter spells she was practicing overwhelmed, replaced by more familiar Aethan Arts.

Walking against tidal waves she needed to exert physical superiority, narrowing on the first witch, shattering the perceptual illusions that tried to make the path ahead seem millions of miles, inverted up and down.

A vast Rancor illusion swiped at her with dripping claws, a malacia curse tingled her stomachs.  The witches darted back with ichor trails, frustrated Milaea hammered on, eyes darting to the ichor pool.

Rashly she drew up the raw powers of Dathomir for herself, inexpertly crafting a cage of ichor to surround her target – astoundingly it worked, the next escaping leap failed and Milaea elbowed the witch hard enough to instantly concuss.

The victory had not been her own, behind her was a glowing youthful dusky skinned woman, drawing on the ichor to assist Milaea.  She recognised the face as the younger illusionary form of the Magi.

Two on two the spell casting intensified, Milaea following Yzzerhera’s lead, imitating her defence and attacks while adding stabs of Aethan curses that confounded the Witches defences with its novelty.

One  broke under a mental suppression that sent her scratching her skin believing woffa worms were crawling beneath, the last managed to get off a solid malacia blast that caused Milaea to retch bile into her mouth before she could backhand her head into the wall.

“As I said…” The Magi spoke shuffling inside, visibly trembling not from cold but exhaustion at the effort.

“A task for the young, in body and spirit,” she smiled

<<<<>>>>

”No matter how many join our cause, if we cannot assemble them in force Lykana will pick us off…we will need the River Clans to if not join us, at least not stand in our way at their check points,” Chieftain Peola herself of the Saphhin Lakes and River spoke.

“Those rivers are the veins of the continent the fastest way to move warriors, most of the clans have a strong focus on trade, stymied by Lykana’s tributary demands, and a love of offworld novelties…”


 He sat slightly uncomfortably with the weight of his ‘new’ sabre ever present against his back.

The weapon was utilitarian and plain, a former training sabre reworked with a proper power cell belonging to his temporary ‘mistress’.

“…I said show the Chieftan!” she said with a shrill voice that did not suit her features.

“Apologies mistress,” Jo grunted opening the box full of spare power cells from his Aethan Allies.

“Refined Tibanna gas, they will last three times longer than regular power cells,” Aresaea said keeping her voice aloof. 

On the winding trip to the Spring River Clans hub upon an island at the confluence of three of the rivers they plied with fast felucca’s, sails showing their clan symbol of Breen Fish proudly, he had found Aresaea quite open and friendly. 

They had made a brisk pace compared to his earlier travels with just the two of them, pausing only in a few small clearings to practice his forms with the new saber, a rich red-purple colour she had explained was created by a Kyber crystal from Lus’Phor near Galtea.

While Aresaea wasn’t forthcoming on how she came to be there she at least made general conversation about the issues facing the Gray orders in the wake of Grand Master Kimar’s...’demise’... and the events surrounding Lucovis defeat.

“I’m sure you won’t mind us trialling a few?” The Chieftan, a plump woman with turquoise face paint over a white base in gentle wave lines replicating the calm river waters replied.

“Of course, slave?” Ari addressed Jo.  Naturally once they were among the clans she had to play the part of Mistress to his slave. 

Handing over a few cells to an equally submissive male slave the Chieftan leaned back.

“Was there something specific you desired for the power cells, we have many chattel far younger and more handsome than that weary old thing,” the Chieftan sniffed in Jo’s direction.

Ari had to suppress a giggle as she replied in true Dathomiri Matriarchal style

“No I have enough males to serve my needs, I only take this one out as he is already so spoiled I don’t mind if he is damaged further.”

It wouldn’t have been out of place from Jeisena he thought, briefly wondering how she and her sister were getting on.

“I would rather friendship and a blind eye,” Ari said discreetly, removing a small scroll of papyrus from her robe and handing it across.

The Letter from Chieftain Peola set out the requirements of the growing rebellion, the need to ferry troops and equipment from the northern forests down the river especially.

The rotund Chieftan’s mouth seemed to chew in thought as she read it, weighing up her options.

“With so many of our barges transporting Tribute to the Great Queen…we have few to patrol the northern stretches of the river…” she finally said with a knowing wink.

“…so I’m glad to accept your gift of friendship,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 04, 2021, 11:33:35 PM
 
Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 4

Edge of Action
The vast size of Dathomir comparative to the population was boon and curse - it was easy to avoid Lykana’s patrol’s but also required many a hard hike through terrain replete with dangerous wild animals, horned Drebbin in the mountainous region, simian perbole in the forest and occasional stampedes of Baz nitch on the plains.

Riding on loyal old Gush, a rancor her mother had rode, Alwyn received a steady stream of good news as they marched south.

The ‘Coalition’ army as they termed themselves was not huge, just over 250 warriors and 30 Rancors, for a planetary population of just over 10,000 living in tribes and clans of 100-200 people each it was substantial.  The larger caravan half a days march behind numbered just over 400.


Promises of support and small trickle of warriors returned with her scouts and diplomats trickled in each day, Northmen, assisted down river by the Spring River Clan - 60 huge male warriors - free-women of the eastern seas, Venom clan members slipping in with their spider clan brethren

Her Aethas born allies had proved invaluable in getting the word out quickly and widely, and the story of the Varangian being fought to a standstill their greatest tool.

Their strategy was simple, to march south to the Whistling Mountain and Frenzied River where they would join another group of warriors forming there.

The caravan of civilians could shelter with the clans further south while army marched north toward Rancors Tooth, hopefully picking up more clans along the way.

On the whole Matriarchs were far more reasonable than men were when it came to warfare, eschewing outright warfare in most cases.

If they could assemble enough clans together, show that Lykana had lost the confidence and support of a majority that was willing to fight if necessary she would have no choice but to either risk an outright battle – no longer a sure victory given the Aethans ability to counter the Varangian - or, Goddess willing, abdicate her power to a Council of Matriarchs.

Spiderclan scouts and local tribal leaders made sure the kept to the safest paths away from wild animals as they headed south pivoting to the Western Coast and Blue Coral village - a fishing township - where ships laden with goods and warriors from the eastern continent were awaiting them bolstering the numbers by a further 70 warriors.

Intelligence indicated Lykana could call upon a force of just over 600 all told, of which 150 or so were her fanatical Reapers.

The Reapers wouldn’t hold back, so far there had only been a few light skirmishes among scouts, but Alwyn knew inevitably they would try larger ambushes eventually.

They were able to march with confidence though, not afraid of the Varagnain tearing into them in bloody hit and runs, Karintha who astoundingly kept pace with Old Gush on foot the surety that the Varangian could be dealt with.

Alwyn spared a glance down at the purposeful stride of the Aethan woman, face set with a confident touch of a smile.  It was obvious to her now the aethans, and the Varanigan were not human despite appearance, their physical strength and speed exceptional.

Not a day went by when Alwyn didn’t see them around the camp inquiring on some subject of Dathomiri culture or magick, practising with troubling proficiency advanced spells, or walking along, tinkering with runes  and totems, reading scrolls or spell books.

She knew they had come here to trade and learn, but the rapidity and breadth of their intellectual hunger was astonishing, Alwyn doubted there were any pieces of writing in the caravan they hadn’t read by now.

Karintha looked up offering a supportive smile even as she felt the thinnest ripples of suspicion from the Whistling Caverns Chief and de-facto leader of the army.

Everything was proceeding according to her designs, the remaining women of the People would arrive soon, she would have Xanaea take on orbital surveillance duties for intel, though she would not share the fact directly with her selectively technophobe Dathomiri allies.

They headed south and inland for the next three days, skirting the Great River Tribal lands, a handful of warriors joining them, but largely scouts reported villages along coast and inland abandoned, cowered by warnings from Lykana.

Karintha did not mind the slow pace, each day her People gained more and more knowledge of Dathomiri magic and culture, and with each successful recruitment mission - and soon enough each successful battle - she made the Witches more and more reliant upon the People.

<<<<>>>>

Canvas, hide, leather and flax tents peppered the Ylysan fields below, interspersed were wide pens where Rancors sat grunting and waiting.

Hundreds of men laboured felling the surrounding trees and digging defensive ditches, back and forth from the distant quarry bringing stone on their backs or quickly fashioned carts.

Smoke from blacksmiths darkened the air from the five points dotted around the camp and mingled with the green haze of ichor from the covens infusing the weapons they forged with mass produced enchantments.

Lykana allowed herself a small smile from the top of the Rancors Tooth – a jagged cream Tor capped by a dusty grey castle jutting up in the midst of the seemingly endless fields that had been used since the time of the ancient Kwa as a castle or watch tower to control the surrounding fields and farm lands. 

Blood Peak was the base of her Magickal powers, but Rancors Tooth was better placed for the assembly of her armies, closer to the granaries, impossible for any force to sneak up toward for the vast views it offered of the surrounds, and no more than a two day march to many of the most populated and wealthy Tribelands and hamlets.

Here she could muster her forces and show she still had majority support...though ideally Alwyn would never manage to reach here at all.

“My Queen,” her Equerry interrupted
“You guest has arrived,”

Spinning on her heel she returned into the shadowy halls of the Tor top castle she had rebuilt years before, a physical demonstration of her power to the farmers of the region and the many caravans that used it as a cross roads land mark. 

The Varangian close behind the hooded visitor was awaiting her in the vast hall replete with half empty crates and boxes, her slaves having yet to complete decorating it to her satisfaction and now dismissed so she could speak in confidence with her ‘guest’.

Throwing back his hood the Iridonians horns and facial tattoos were immediately evident marking him as non-human, the bloodlust in his aura delicious to her taste. 

The enormous warrior of the Zabrack species glared at the Varangian with a mix of envy and violent intent.  Lykana had long known that Dathomir was vulnerable to offworlder attack, as a counter balance she had retained the services of the Iridonian 14th Legion led by the man before her, Ima-Kun.

“Who is the enemy and where can I find them,” he said brusquely, while a mercenary the Iridonians were a culture of such savagery they were said to turn on each other in the absence of an enemy to fight – the gold and minerals she supplied were of less interest to Ima-Kun than having someone to unleash his primal rage upon.

“A rebel faction has risen on Dathomir, they are supported by Offworlders,”

It was an egregious sin to turn to offworlders for help, Lykana had to be cautious she could only use her own mercenaries in response to Alwyn openly using hers or she would lose the support of the Clans.

“Numbers and species?”

“Perhaps a dozen, species…some type of meta-human they have power like my own bodyguard and what you call Jedi abilities,”

“Hrrrnnnn…” she could feel the lust for battle rising in the vicious creature, such raw power was an intoxicating prospect, she wondered if they could be cross bred with humans

Ima-Kun had a particular hate for Jedi, though he had only seen one at the end of a decades long war with the Echani.

For generations the two warrior species had been engaged in glorious warfare, his Legion, the 14th had been created from war orphans such as himself taken as children or infants from hovels across Iridonia and forged into Legion, for twenty years they had fought, their numbers dwindling as their viciousness rose, until a Jedi delegation had come and established as truce.

The Legions were disbanded, while the other 13 legions could return to some kind of life on Iridonia, the 14th had been soldiers since they could walk, they needed an enemy…and sought one among their own kind…not knowing what else to do the Iridonian Conclave exiled the unwanted Legion of an ended war, 1600 warriors with no other skills and more bloodlust than could be contained they quickly found their calling as mercenaries.

He was well aware, Jedi - and these Witches - were incredibly dangerous opponents alone, combining such….

“A problem?” Lykana noted the pause.

“No!” the barely sentient creature snapped, the Varangian’s hand twitching toward his blade.

The Iridonian eyed him for a moment, Lykana had known ever since Ima-Kun first saw the Varangian he was desperate to try his strength against him – he would soon get his wish in a round about way.

“Where are they?”

<<<<>>>>

“Looks like someone isn’t playing fair!” Lyaea smiled as she picked up the transport leaving the atmosphere, it's pathetic attempt to hide with a Seinar thermal -mass displacement generator no match for the more advanced Chiss Scanners of the Aertemisaea

“Who isn’t” Xani beside her asked the youngest Aethan still puzzling over all the buttons needed to fly a Destroyer.

Karintha had quickly summoned the rest of the People to assist in the war effort and reclamation of Taran.  Lyaea, impatient as always had not understood why they didn’t just use Orbital drop pods and a retinue of Vong to swipe Taran out of there.

Yet Karintha had spoken so forcefully and convincingly of the risks of losing Taran for good, and the vast benefits of having the Dathomiri witches as allies everyone had agreed.

“The Queen down there,” Lyaea went on to her little sister

“They are not meant to use off worlders to help fight…”

“Isn’t that what we are as well?”

“Yes but Outsider rules don’t apply to us sweetling, we are above such things,”

Xani nodded understanding

“Outsiders can make rules for other outsiders but not for People,” she affirmed, her voice slowly taking on an Aethan accent.

“That’s right, now how shall we deal with this do you think?”

“Hmmm….well they haven’t done anything yet…so maybe if they do…we shoot them down to keep things fair?”
 
“We could, although then we won’t learn much about who they are,” Lyaea gently suggested guiding her

“Oh right like Karintha said we need to learn more about how they fight and stuff…maybe we wait till some to the planet then get the rest half way, that way we can see how they fight in space and ground,”

“Very good”, Lyaea agreed.  Were it up to her she’d send Shikkar torpedoes into their carrier this instant…but it seemed it was not anymore.

Lyaea could see what was happening, Karintha was using this war to take the position of Matriarch of the People and, much like the Extolled, turn the Dathomiri into an unwitting client faction to be harvested for knowledge and resources.

“Why don’t you tinker with the scanners, see what kind of ships they are using then look up the schematics and find the best way to break them?” Lyaea suggested

“Like a puzzle!”

“Exactly like a puzzle,”
In this war and among the People, all the pieces were coming together.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 04, 2021, 11:34:55 PM
 
Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 5
“Reinforcements have arrived…” Sofa grunted dumping the 300 kilo crate to the ground, Jenaea, Selaena and Adaea behind her each carrying or levitating their own boxes full of weapons, Aethan leathers, food and herbal medicines.

Everyone simply went back to their tasks around the camp situated in the rolling hills near , Milaea and Ari practising spells, Kiraea and Yorna trying out electrostaff techniques, Kassyndra and Evaea observing Spider clan suppression enchantments being inducted into skin paint.

“Well don’t everybody thank me at once…” Sofa sighed.

“Thank you Sofa,” Karintha coming from behind said with a touch of mirth, the two women had little time to get to know the other, of all the new faces Karintha found Sofa the hardest to understand given her Jedi background.

“You’re welcome, I also dropped Maes, Lydan and the Extolled off on Wayland to join the others sweating like stuck gamorreans training in the jungle,” the black haired woman sighed again, Karintha again noting Sofa had a -'dramatically depsairing’ flair in all her gestures

“A good move,” Karintha replied gratefully, having all the men nearby would be beneficial if the offworlders Lyaea had detected made a move.  

“So what the sitch?”
“Sitch?”
“Situation,”
“Our forces are growing, I am studying means to break Taran free from Lykana’s control, we will march soon,”

“Wonderful more carrying stuff longer distances,” Jenaea sighed inelegantly divesting herself of her pack, her snide attitude  however justified given her experiences -  Karintha now appreciated was perfectly suited to having Sofa train her, it would’ve grated on Karintha far too much.

“Hopefully not for long, the armies are small, rarely over a few hundred, battles are fought between groups of 10 to 30 champions…with our help the conflict will be short,”

“Well let’s hope it doesn’t come to that…,” Sofa replied sensing something…odd that she hadn’t felt before, not just Dathomir itself, but on what she called the ‘Aethan Bandwidth’ a gravity about Karintha that drew events to and orbiting around her.

“…I might go find Milaea,” Sofa added, not wanting to directly ask what was going on just yet.

As she wandered the camp she could’ve sworn she saw a familiar Gray Jedi face.

<<<<>>>>

Tightening his belt Jo reached down for his new saber only to find it gone.

“Curious weapon…” came a not quite familiar voice behind him.
Alwyn inspected the light saber intently before handing it to her sister’s mate.
“You are skilled in it, yes?”

“Yes Mistress,” he said submissively so as to not offend the chief.

“Ha you need not be so formal with me, unlike my sister I don’t hold males as completely beneath my contempt…and you are an off-worlder, outside our Law - in fact I wished to speak with you,”

“Me, what about?”

“I am curious…why you remain Jeisena’s mate given your…background,”

“I’m guessing she told you how we met.”

“She did…”

Jo breathed out, one less part of his disastrous past to retell…but then was it so bad.

“My people, the Mak’tor, believe strongly in family, Ulwyn is my family, and so is Jeisena, I won’t ever abandon them,”

“Although they are not the family you desired and your culture does not enforce as ours does?”

“I wouldn’t say that…none of this is the life I would’ve planned, but then who does get such a life,”

“No one…the Fates weave their own thread absent the cries of the skein,”

“Ha, I’ll have to remember that one,”

Alwyn smiled

“You are a man of honour Jo’Set’Mack, you serve Ulwyn and Jesiena well…not just here on Dathomir but before,”

She placed a hand on his shoulder making him feel slightly discomforted

“You have my thanks for that, as much as I loathed my sister escaping Dathomir…now I understand it was not to freedom or peace…I am thankful she found a worthy mate,”

There was more than a little envy in her voice.

“Well I…I’ve made my mistakes…lots of them,”

“As have we all,” she said turning to part,

“Fight well Jo’Set Mack…I look forward to hearing your feats of arms with your curious weapon.” She said as she went back into the growing bustle of goodbyes as the warriors prepared to leave.

“Thanks,” he said quietly looking at the sabre feeling the warmth of her touch on it still

No one had spoken to him so kindly since…
Maker he couldn’t even remember!

“So you are joining the Northmen's camp I hear?” the similar but condescending tone of Jeisena interrupted his thoughts.

“Fanged God help us if you are among their chosen warriors,” She sneered even as she bounced Ulwyn in her arms, his daughters face was proudly painted in her clan colours now.

“Yes mistress,” he sighed

She remained quiet for a moment.

“Don’t you dare die, I command it,” she finally said.
“Fool though you are, you at least provide well for my child…and myself,”

A tight half smile was his reply, he knew better than to expect a chance to hold his daughter or even receive a kiss from his mistress before he left to fight for their lives.

Both Hri sisters had now drastically pissed Lykana off, unless she was removed from power they, and critically Ulwyn, would never be safe.

“Stay safe Jeisena,” he finished buckling his saber.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on July 05, 2021, 06:47:31 PM
I'm reminded of "The Seven Samurai" where the village hires/gathers disparate mercenaries to fight off a numerically superior foe, any sort of success or victory FAR from assured...only this time, the "village" has an "ace in the hole" by way of the Aethans.  Interestingly we see the ramifications of this alliance from both sides: for the Aethans, it becomes another opportunity for them to expand their knowledge- and power-base...which their Dathomiri allies are certainly beginning to question their motives (that's one smart witch; too bad there is probably very little that she can do to stop it now).  But which becomes the lesser of two evils: Lykana or Karintha?

Of course, Aethan morals being what they are, they have no such compunctions against doing precisely that, made even easier by the fact that they were invited (a tactic that we have seen/shall see again...)  The fact that the Aethans do so isn't as interesting compared to why they do it (after the events of the Collapse and the Devastation, I can certainly understand the why, without condemning nor condoning).  Call it "Galactic Darwinism" at its most primal...

Despite the number of combatants being relatively small (especially when compared to the more widespread planetary wars), this new Aethan-Dathomiri War promises to be just as brutal (or more than likely worse), probably leading to even more depopulation for an already depleted populace.  Both sides have several tricks up their sleeves and that surprise will invariably play a pivotal part in victory and defeat.

I just wonder if the only "victor" will be those NOT of Dathomir...

On a side note, I am further enjoying Jo'Set's arc here.  His is ALMOST a Hero's Journey, now headed towards reconciliation, a personal purification of spirit, ESPECIALLY poignant since Jo'Set LITERALLY became a vessel for the Dark Side in his quest for vengeance.  Ironic that those motives which originally propelled him upon his revenge are the same that now inspire his actions during this war: Family. 

Only this time--IF he survives--I think that he'll end better for it.

...But ONLY if he lives  ;)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 12, 2021, 12:45:50 AM
 
Chapter 39 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Talon of the Winged Goddess — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/1qvKvSV/Withes-Jaws.png)
(https://i.ibb.co/nRLHrJn/Dathomir.png)
The Canyon

“Well there they are,” Kiraea said as they finally spied the gap between the far edge of the Great Canyon and the Great Lakes. 

While over four kilometers long, the eastern side was sandy and hard for rancors and infantry to pass, the western side sloped down into the canyon precariously. 

The walkable 800 metre gap that was dotted by watch towers and patrols,  Most of the warriors of desert tribes out of Chu’unthor, two dozen or so Reapers perhaps 150 in all. 

“The Frenzied River, Misty falls and Singing Mountains clans have only ever paid lip service to Lykana,” Alwyn explained when appraised of the news

“I’m not surprised their warriors aren’t part of the army…still Lykana has placed her troops between us and them,”

The army was at a pause, three circled encampments kept apart by a few hundred meters to ensure if one was attacked the other two could respond.

“We must proceed there nonetheless,” Karintha replied

“But perhaps if we send word to those clans we can catch them in a pincer, force them to surrender.”
“We would have to wait for the reply here,”
“Or we march around the Great canyon,” Karintha suggested
“That’s nearly a week's march…”
“For us and them, it will give more time for your allies to assemble, and make all their defensive work here a waste.”
Logic and reason were Karintha’s greatest tools in guiding this war to her own ends.

Every day they were on the march the Magi, spider clans, beast tamers and witches taught the Aethan women more and more new spells, techniques and abilities. It was in Karintha’s interest to drag this out.

“I will discuss it with the others…but that seems an advantageous course, we could also send word to the Grand Canyon Clan…if they can be turned we could all come together at the western end of the canyon, engage this army there as one, then head west along the edge of the desert straight to Blood Peak.”

It didn’t take long for the other leaders to agree to the plan.

They marched further south, two kilometres from the enemy fortification, then swung west.

Lykana’s General, a Desert woman Zhen’jha could only scrunch her face in annoyance, if she pursued north she risked being on the wrong side of the Canyon from reinforcements. 

Her only recourse was to head along the south of the Canyon following the rebels who marched on the north.

The vast red and orange scar in the land was both sides' companion for the following three days, the gap between them just a little too far for artillery or arrow to reach – though Zhen’jha certainly tried a few times.  She was at least going back on her supply lines to the main fortress at Red Hill, she hoped the rebels were lengthening theirs ever further.

Unbeknownst to her, Knissa and Kiraea had taken a dozen Spider clan, along with Ari and Evaea and stayed behind at one of the narrower gaps. 

A day after the enemy had passed and their last rear scouts gone they used the cover of night to descend the rocky walls, then picks and ropes to ascend the other side, tracking the enemy army.

On the fourth night when both sides had lost sight of each other divided by the widest length of the canyon the first clandestine attacks began.

<<<<>>>>

Shadows in the Night
(https://i.ibb.co/6w6FFnY/Kiraea-R-9.jpg) (https://ibb.co/6w6FFnY)(https://i.ibb.co/h11BvD1/Lykana.jpg) (https://ibb.co/h11BvD1)
“Is it ready?” she demanded without preamble striding into the Nexium beneath the Rancors Tooth.

The Coven of Dreaming Pond witches stood around a green glowing crystal bathed in ichor, initiates in a circle about them chanting the incantations.

Her scouts had positioned the enemy force, and they were far enough from her own to use this powerful but indiscriminate weapon.

“It is Dread Queen, it only awaits your activation and guidance to the enemy,”

The Dream Eater was a well known curse among the witches of Dathomir, it could drive a woman mad with seemingly unending false awakenings and waking trauma’s of living their worst fears.  It was reserved only for those who had deeply aggrieved a witch and had to be carefully crafted.

This version was a Power-Pace in comparison, a rain of maddening illusions, while Lykana was under no illusions it would drive any of the stronger minds mad, it would certainly cause them mental pain and fatigue.

She stepped up to the crystal summoning her power from the very depths of the planets ichor heart.

With a grin and white sparking fingers she began.

<<<<>>>>

The terrain was stark, marked by knee high boulders and shrubs, the occasional group of brackasets wandering about slightly bemused by the passage of so many humans through their gazing fields.

In the dead still of night three Aethans spider clan stalked toward the far edge of the encampment.

Scouts and look outs bored from days without anything to note but the occasional dustrat lazily ignored the shadows slightly inconsistent with the glow of the stars above.

The sisters of the spider clan were true to their name, crawling on their bellies fingers and toes like twenty little legs in an astounding display of dexterity and wrist and ankle strength.

Even Ari struggled with replicating the physical motion and Aethans joints had three times the articulation.  At least Kiraea seemed to be feeling more her usual self, excited by the prospect of the stealth raid.

They avoided the wide areas about the southern side of the camp where the animals and rancors were kept.

Ari understood the reasoning behind not using their technological superiority to win the war in mere hours by the mere threat of orbital bombardment, and she knew Karintha was doing what she believed best for the People…

but it made the Dathomiri objects of study and tools of convenience rather than true friends.

She felt the others spread across the camp, their presences tiny as a thumb size spider and just as rapid moving about denying any one the ability the sense it for long let alone pinpoint it.

<In three…> Kiraea whispered in her mind.

<two…> Ari felt the sparks from the black-flint flicker against her hands in purple flame.

<one…>
<<<<>>>>

Her eyes flashed open with a glow of purple and red.

Milaea had been meditating, three of her conscious levels in a sleep state on the edge of the camp.

The aether was stirring in an unusual but familiar way.

“Grandmother, Yorna, Jenaea,” she said at their normal cadence with a high pitch.  Jenaea having only recently joined them on the ground, bringing along with her supplies of clothes and natural weapons, including a number of Aethan Obrio wood spears made by Maeson and Lydan.

“What’s wrong sweetling?” Kassyndra asked,
A moment later there was no longer a question, the aether twisted above and around into lines of potent strange energy, Miraluka ancestry enabled them to see hundreds of tiny comets of ichor green fall toward the sleeping warriors.

“Quickly!”

On her feet in an instant racing toward the third camp's Coven tent where the stronger witches maintained a watch. The other women expanded their metaphysical shields to encompass nearby Dathomiri – not all and themselves but it was a start.

“A curse is falling!” Milaea yelled as she burst into the astounded witches,

“Or it’s about to…”
<<<<>>>>

The slice was quick and clean, a slight bubbling and Evaea smelt the petrichor as the water flowed out onto the dusty canyon sands.

It was hardly as fulfilling as assassination, but destroying the enemies water stores was more apt for the Dathomiri way of war that valued posturing and shows of strength over actual combat.

Kiraea was up ahead going ever deeper into the camp darting between patrols and skirting torch and fire pit light aiming to take the head of the vosis if she could.

Ari noted the difference in approach of the two, Evaea was methodical, mechanical even - a task to be completed with delicacy and care, the old Anzat sensibilities of Kaizen Kree had instilled.

Kiraea using the same techniques of stealth was all emotion, focused but ravenous with blood lust.

Ari was uncertain which was better, or worse.

The spiderclan cleaning began to fall back, explosives placed, lightless fuses burning down, Ari too crawling low on her knees.

Knissa guided the assassins through a chain of ‘dead’ patches between lights they had marked out coming in, Evaea obedient to a fault followed, but Kiraea…

Was lifting the hem of the Generals tent.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 12, 2021, 12:46:56 AM
 
Chapter 39 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Talon of the Winged Goddess — Part 2

The skin around her mouth and temples cracked from its unnatural youth to true age as she cursed in frustration.

The Dream Eater was being stymied – she had expected the rebel witches would offer counter spells and protective hex-rings…but they had reacted far more quickly and effectively than thought.

The Dream crystal groaned with sharp creaks under the power of the Coven as they intensified the draw and the chanting grew louder, curses of torment and terror on the initiates lip made manifest by the older witches.

There were a number of entirely blank patches in Lykana’s minds eye as she ‘looked’ down upon the camp, as if entities that could somehow ‘repel’ Magick itself were moving about gathering those they could to hide in their null zone.

The offworlders, it must be…

She would have to bring in the 14th legion sooner than expected if they were this much of a nuisance.

Giving up on the broad attack Lykana focused on those already suffering, Milaea felt the shift magi and witches with experience making up the gaps between the aethan women’s shielding efforts.

“Jenaea can you take over?”
“Hrnnn I guess…”
“I’ll try and end this,”

Milaea now understood the method was much like Xithar’s Terror Bomb, an Aethan Mind Rend, or Sith Tormentia – and it had the same weakness, the need to maintain a connection.

Grasping just one of the tendrils Milaea wound her mind along the Dream Eater thread to its source, keeping herself subtle and small. 

Few would’ve even noticed.

Lykana, master of the Dark Arts of Allya, compiler and part author of the Book of Shadows was one of those few.

She felt the unnatural presence, the weight of power foreign to Dathomir.  Alwyn and Jeisena had found a powerful witch indeed.   

Milaea was similarly impressed, Lykana had gravitas of decades of experience in magical combat Milaea lacked, the Aethans raw powerful and savant-like intellect not enough to bridge the gap.

Observing rather than acting, Milaea puzzled out the Dream Eater attack as Lykana divided her attention between her attack and building a defence against the intruder.

Every second more of the rebels twisted in their sleep, their deepest fear turned into vivid reality in their own minds causing them to scream in terror.

Lykana was primed to repel any kind of metaphysical attack, waiting for her enemy to make the first move and expose herself more fully.

She did not expect the emptiness that shot through the link.

Milaea twisted the aether into a concave void and sent it hurtling into the higher planes, the Null Spike caused the Dream Eater tendrils to splay wildly, Lykana’s Magick based defences were useless against a Null void that dropped straight through the ice of her barriers like molten lead. 
(https://i.ibb.co/zf7RzcF/M-destroyer.jpg) (https://ibb.co/zf7RzcF)
The dream eater crystal cracked, matter and anti-matter churning into an ambiguous mess.

“NNNGh little bitch!” Lykana yelled, her mouth wide she felt a looseness about her jaw, the nearer members of the Coven aghast.

Slapping her hands to her face Lykana realised the null had twisted off the glamour’s that kept her true appearance concealed.

The witches stared as they saw for a brief instant the degradation 50 plus years of intense use of Dark Magick had caused to their Queens Countenance.

“OUT!”
<<<<>>>>

What is she doing Ari thought as she brought up the rear of the retreating saboteurs, the camp lighting up as their traps detonated, tents full of food, artillery pieces and weapons burning in purple flames

Kiraea would struggle to get out unnoticed, a fact that was not especially high on her priorities.

As suspected the general’s tent was replete with totems and fetishes to ward off malefic spells, it smelt of sand and heat, the furnishings typical of desert dwellers hardy but worn by the harsh winds.

“Sheik Zhen’jha!” A dusky skinned warrior lower face covered by a brown gold burst in
“Spies in the camp!”
Zhen’jha, from Kiraea’s view point behind a chest on the far side of the wide carpeted tent was solid woman with dark skin and darker tattoo’s on her arms and face of flowing scripts that were doubtless blessing and counter spells.

“Sound the drums, I want them found, and bring me a list of every guard on duty, they will be flogged for this lapse,” she said sternly as she stepped out.

Now Kiraea could get to work, her goal wasn’t to kill the general, she had something far more special in mind.

In the breast pocket of her gormin leather vest was a perfect sphere mirror ball, marble sized; it was weighty with the enchantment she had placed in it.

If she had learned one thing from the mad Lucovis it was that your own fears and terrors could be used to ignite others – so she had crafted this miniaturized Terror orb from her own recent trauma.

It had felt good externalizing the feeling into the tiny object.

It would feel even better unleashing them.

Scanning the room she nearly missed the doleful looking male, heavy metal claps around his neck sitting naked in the corner, well fed, but down cast. A slave, and an opportunity.

Crawling up unseen she tapped him on the shoulder even as she wrapped her hand around his mouth.

“You’re close to your so-called mistress?”

“mmm-hmmm-mm-mmm” she didn’t need his voice she could see his thoughts, memories of humiliating degradation.

“You want to get back at her…you can…” she took his hand and guided the Terror Orb into to it, her voice laced with the aether, a Kamurith skull with runic carvings began to slightly glow at her use of the aether, she had to be careful not to use too much.

“…place this somewhere among her battledress and all your vengeance will be fulfilled,” she promised with sinister sincerity.

The slave merely nodded and slumped back down as she slipped out.

There was no way she could go back the way she came, instead Kiraea took the long way, weaving through the northern section of the camp to the lip of the Great canyon, then shimming along in its crags till she was some distance from even the search patrols as the sun rose red over the plains.

“Did you get the general?” Ari asked when she finally found the others
“Not yet my love…not yet,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 12, 2021, 12:48:05 AM
 
Chapter 39 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Talon of the Winged Goddess — Part 3
Battle of the Great Canyon

For the next two nights the same repeated at a less intense pace.

The Coalition warned of mass cursing attacks kept their sleeping quarters closer to the covens, Clan Mother Yzzerhera taught the Aethans more about the Dream Eater, and others – the Flesh Tearer, and Blood Freezer - to assist them, Jenaea taking a little too much enjoyment in contemplating trying them herself.

Lykana’s attacks were delegated to her Covens. Under the guise of ‘strategizing’ she spent nearly 18 hours and four slave hearts undertaking renewal spells under the Varangians indifferent gaze. 

Kassyndra and Milaea lead efforts to help those afflicted by the curse recover.

The Spider clan attacks focused on ambushing resupply caravans, Adaea, Sofa and Jenaea joining an effort to overturn and scatter half of the carts while Ari, Kiraea and Evaea obtained valuable intelligence, with counts of their troops and more importantly caged animals – mainly Rhoa Kwi, pack hunting reptilians but also a few Malklocs in addition to rancors.

As the march turned the corner of the western end of the Great Canyon they received word by messenger Convor that the Great Canyon Clan along with the others were willing to join their cause and provide warriors – If Lykana’s nearby army was neutralized.

“We have to meet them then,” Alwyn confirmed leaning on the round table before the other leaders, a few beginning to notice more and more how Karintha, the far outsider whose authority was ambiguous at best, had her ear.

“The question is where,” Ianna said
“At our current pace they will reach the Great Canyon Clans village before us, they won’t openly turn if that happens,”

“If we marched double time?” Aun suggested
“And arrive more weary than we are now…no…we’ve put it off long enough, we have to face them…but…” Alwyn pointed to the map

“If we go further west we can position them against the Canyon, give them less room to manoeuvre,”

“A cornered animal is oft more dangerous,” Ianna cautioned “but better them than us.”

“Then we march, and see how the bones fall,”

<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/Qn1k9k6/Alwynb.jpg) (https://ibb.co/J2Mqnqz)
Between the two armies was more of the same scrub land that they had marched for weeks, to the east of Zhen’jha army the great Canyon itself, to their South the village built into the stone of large mesa’s.

Alwyn held to the west and north forming her forces with spears, missiles then swords, Covens dotted throughout. 

Zhen’jha’s front line was a row of bleached wood cages filled with a menagerie of fierce half stared animals, Beast Whisperers communing with the animals to ensure they didn’t attack her own forces, while her covens and artillery prepared for salvo’s of eldritch flame and burning rock.

As was the Law of old the leaders rode out on their rancors to meet.

“Alwyn Hri of the Whistling Caverns,” Zhen’jha declared in a booming voice holding her staff of command, a heavy metallic thing with a skull at the end etched in runes pointed at Alwyn.

Karintha on the far end of the row of eight leaders, noting the object smiled at a joke only she and Kiraea knew for the moment.

“You are to throw down your arms and submit to arrest for Treason against Lykana Queen of Dathomir, those you have deceived may petition for mercy,”

“The same mercy my Clan was shown Zhen’jha?” Clan Mother Yzzerhera interrupted
“The time for bargaining has passed,” Alwyn confirmed
“Will you send forward your champions or do you wish to test all our arms?”

Zhen’jha eyed Karintha quickly
“The time for settling dispute by honoured Law passed when you allied yourself with offworlders,”

In other words Lykana wished to make a statement stronger than just slaying a few champions.

Nothing left to stay they returned to their lines, the banner bearers holding white flags falling as each returned.

As the bright canvas of parlay was rolled the first volleys were unleashed.

Trebuchet and scorpion fired across the plane as the Beast Whisperers slashed the ropes on the animals cage doors, Rhoa Kwi and Malklocs racing across the plane as heavy missiles flew overhead, The Spear women of the Whistling caverns locking shields to intercept the huge animals.

Jo on the northern flanked gulped.  As many fights as he had been in, he had never been in a pitched battle before. He was positioned with the Northmen, they had more hair than muscle.

And they had a lot of muscle.

“Come then bald-one” their chief Haldan slapped him on the back – Jo’s shaggy hair and unkempt beard still ‘bald’ compared to the hoarse northerners.
“Let us see your steel ‘ey!”
(https://i.ibb.co/Kqnzj6f/Northmen.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)
They waited for orders as the mad animals reached the front lines, spears drove into soft scaled bellies as the women crouched, shields were ripped by fanged teeth, Rancors lead by Ianna on their leathery wings slapped into the rear ripping up the Malklocs first, a few missiles though began to strike their main ranks as the Bolma cavalry on both sides charged along the flanks.

Jenaea focused on her own task, repeating the words and hand motions to draw on the planets Ichor magic to enhance the range and area of effect of her native lighting and flame abilities as the battle between the covens on either side was added to the mundane.

She twisted the energy into a physical form in the shape of a Triquetra, making her anger and annoyance built up over the years a tangible weapon hurled into the enemy - it blazed through the sky on a high arc, smashing into a diamond shield above the enemy lines, her face fell to think it was wasted, but some shards fell through as the defensive diamond flickered to burn a few unfortunates beneath. 

She grinned as she decided to break that diamond and whoever was generating it.

Zhen’jha’s wild animal charge had covered the advance of her infantry - phalanxes of electro-spear warriors on the sides in a jagged chevron formation, phase whip and scimitars in the centre to counter the enemy spears.

Finally in range the archers and crossbows began to fire, arrows barely visible against the high sun as Jo suddenly felt very exposed.

A horn nearby sounded and the Northmen roared into a charge Jo only belatedly joined.

From still to run he stumbled on the uneven ground before finding his feet, a wall of crackling spears wielded by massive dusky women ahead, Haldan glanced over with a dismissive shake of his head, he didn’t think Jo would get far having the ‘Arts’ or not.

Determined to prove him wrong Jo drew on the force and stepped up his speed overtaking the Chief by a few solid lengths, it was then he lit the red saber to dash a handful of arrows before a force enhanced leap, arcing straight over the electrospears.

In brief airborne moment he saw the whole battlefield, the flanks now engaged but the two centres holding uncertain against each other, in the air and all around a rainbow of coloured energies of the witches spells bashing against each other, and behind both lines the enormous Rancor mount waiting to be used as the trump cards they were.

Back to his own fight he opened his fist to slam a telekinetic wave into the massed spear women, sending them sprawling from his landing zone, coming up to his full height in a solid Shii-Cho to make use of its advantages against multiple opponents – and being the form he was least rusty in.  Gripping tightly he slashed through the first spear aimed at his heart.

It was hard to tell who was winning from atop her Rancor, both flanks seemed evenly matched, the centre only slowly moving together – there Alwyn feared her spear women wouldn’t do so well if the scimitar warriors got in close. 

(https://i.ibb.co/pZ8LjtY/NS-1.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)

At least they seemed to be comprehensively winning in Spellcraft. The Aethan woman Milaea was hovering on red flames over the lines blocking most attacks, her companions counter attacks were beginning to wear the enemies defences, but not quickly enough to be decisive.

“Alwyn?” Knissa called from below waiting for orders for her spider clan warriors, even in the full light of sun they managed to find a way to remain hidden.

“Round the Southern flanks see if you can get them from behind perhaps,”  Karintha suggested in between firing off Malacia curses that loped into the Northern melee causing a half dozen warriors to vomit profusely.

It was risky for the lightly armoured assassins but fortune favoured the bold

“Do it,” Alwyn agreed

“I can divert some of my People from dealing with the Covens and lead a charge in the centre personally,” Karintha added trusting in Milaea’s near inexhaustible defensive abilities.

Alwyn knew her allies, or Yorna at least, were powerful single combatants and Witches all, but she wasn’t sure how they would fare against ranked infantry.

“I assure you, we can drive a wedge in their lines for a few moments, then bring in the rancors,”

“This early?” Alwyn questioned

“They will not expect it,” and it will draw their leader to respond so we can unleash our plan Karintha thought.

Be Bold Alwyn her mother would say

“Go, see how you fare,”

<Yorna, Ari, Jenaea, Lyaea, Adaea with me>
<Milaea, Sofa, Kassyndra full defensive>
Weaving through the ranks wearing the thickest natural armours- vosis scale with blackstone chain-link, they were all armed with sword, Naginata’s fashioned by Lydan and Bows with personalised enchantments made by the savant like Adaea.

<Bows> Karintha ordered as they formed up just behind the front line, she smiled at the enchantment Adaea had given her, in addition to the normal arrow teleportation smoothing and life force seeking, it had a confidence draining angst enchantment, the antithesis of the assurance Karintha herself brought to her People.
<Nock…Draw…Aim…Loose!>

Lost among the wooden missile the enemy raised shields confidently - Blackstone arrows were too fast and dense to be stopped by their paltry steel, even those enchanted with wards.

In thirty seconds they loosed six arrows three times each – 108 shots that at least broke a shield or slew some of the remaining feral animals.

<Naginata’s we keep our distance and sweep them two at a time!> Karintha ordered as they charged.

Their allies parted to let them through and the scimitar wielding desert warriors braced to take them on.

Six Aethan women smashed into the main a rank of forty, blackstone blades in obirio wood staffs spinning faster than the eye could see, tearing the Dathomiri to pieces. 

In honour of the Dathomiri tradition of warfare, they avoided fatalities for the most part, shattering armour and breaking weapons, allowing those left without gear to flee.

They drove forward with all the strength, speed and horrific marital finesse their superior genetics had gifted them, the second line resisted with equal futility, the third smarter tried to keep their distance hoping the archers and witches behind could pick them off. 

A dozen shikkars sent on telekinetic wings by Adaea and Lyaea ended those hopes and they tore into the Third line, their allies far behind them still engaged with the first rank.

Breaking through they found themselves face to face with the Reapers, eighteen scythe wielding warriors glowing with ichor enchantments.

As clear as Alwyn had been about sparing the regular clan warriors, she had been emphatic that the Reapers be eliminated, removing Lykana’s terror troops would send a strong signal of the Coalition's prowess and intent.

Karintha delivered – Aethan and Reapers smashed into each other in a fury of oblivion and ichor that soon turned into a number of smaller battles.

Ari and Yorna took on the weight of the fight, back to back fending off eight of the scythe wielding maniacs, Jenaea relatively untested held her own competently against three more, Lyaea and Adaea focused on three brutishly tall reapers brandishing claw like weapons on each arms that bubbled with eldritch energy.

Karintha held the remaining four, including their leader on her own switching her naginata for her sword, in her right hand while her left drew glowing defensive runes and her lips passed Dathomiri curses.

While human the Reapers training and extreme forms of Dark Enchantment made them far more dangerous opponents as they had seen in the first short skirmish.

Hard pressed and surrounded Ari and Yorna found their enemies strength if anything growing as the fight went on, their speed and endurance a match – if they could just take down two they knew they could deal with the other six.

Succour came in the sizzling thrust of Ari’s old training saber that Jo’Set’Mack lanced through a Reapers back, the shock allowed Yorna to chance a roll forward and sever another’s leg, Ari to twist a lightning arc into a third arm setting their clothes on fire, before offering a quick nod to the Gray Jedi.

Lyaea and Adaea used their greater dexterity to round the brutes, focusing on one they leapt and bounced off the other two, then stabbed viciously at the target from all sides after a quick assist from a tired but victorious Jenaea who had to thank Sofa for the ‘Niman’ style Pushing Slash technique that had gained her first kill.

Seeing her centre break and the Reapers falling slowly but surely Zhen’jha had to make a move,
“Call up the reserves to the Southern flank, we can break them there then move to support the centre then mop up the north” she ordered

Just then the Rebel Rancors took flight, astoundingly early they struck into the centre lines, a positioned exposed to missile fire, a risky move but it meant Zhen’jha’s centre could break at any moment

“Fanged God Curse them! To Flight!”

Kicking her stirrups into the rancor she lifted up leading the pack to take the enemy on directly, hoping she got the satisfaction of taking Alwyn’s head and mount herself.

<Kiraea…> Karintha whispered as she saw the march of the Rancors, her own fight with the Reapers turning in her favour as she used her own witchcraft to undermine the enchantments that gave them equal speed with dispels.
(https://i.ibb.co/h2Rb4KL/Kar-4.jpg) (https://imgbb.com/)

<Now.>

A smile coated in the blood of another victim of her short swords Kiraea pulled back from the melee and concentrated on her fears, regrets, wounds, finding the Orb the slave had placed in the staff of command.

And she shattered it.

Tendrils of hate filled mercury exploded across the metaphysical plane raining down on Zhen’jha’s forces around and below her.

Thoughts of battle vanished into childhood terrors that played before their eyes.  The General herself began scratching at her face for the gaping spiders crawling under her skin.  Confused Rancor mounts crashed back into their own lines before the last few skeins of the micro Terror Bomb hit their semi sentient minds and sent them wild among their own ranks.

The Reapers forced to brace against the shockwave became easy prey for the Aethans unaffected by the bomb – Kiraea and Karintha’s modifications had ensure People were immune to the effect.  Her advantage gained Karintha rapidly dismembered her opponents leaving them bleeding and absent one or more limbs.

Alwyn could not believe what she was seeing, Jo in a post exhaustion rhythm could not believe what the song trembled with, Milaea could not countenance what she suddenly felt in the aether.

Their leader gone those that didn’t surrender, routed.

Karintha was not yet finished, striding over to the fallen Reapers she plucked the leader up, thrusting a shikkar into her and winding it telekinetically to the kidney to inflict maximum pain to ensure there was no resistance. 

Under the influence of their Battle meld, not driven by Karintha the other Aethans nearby followed, though some had to ‘share’ a reaper as few were alive.

In a single startling move they grasped the Reapers minds and in an act that had eerie similarity to Anzat feeding, they tore open the pain addled minds to consume their knowledge.

Jo stood by helpless wondering if he had just given himself over to evil a second time.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 12, 2021, 12:49:41 AM
 
Chapter 39 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Talon of the Winged Goddess — Part 4

After Effects

They had hoped to find sanctuary among the mesa carved villages of the great Canyon Clan.  

Seeing the tide had turned the Clanswomen embittered by years of excessive tribute turned on Lykana’s army, capturing half of those retreating, and half a day later welcoming the victorious forces, word more warriors were coming from the Singing Mountains, Frenzied River and Misty Falls tribes arrived soon after.

The First battle had been won.

<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/XCk9LZg/mark-wahlberg-deepwater-horizon.jpg) (https://ibb.co/XCk9LZg)(https://i.ibb.co/MNqGLsQ/Manazan-Cave-City-02.jpg) (https://ibb.co/MNqGLsQ)

“Pah!” Haldan threw the hilt back into Jo’s chest.

“Too clean Aye!” he complained of the lightsabre that had served Jo well during the battle.  
“Cauterizing wounds, how can you get the rush from an enemies warm blood on your face Aye!”

The Crystal was not attuned to him, Ari had barely used the training saber so it lacked personality, with its first outing outright war he worried that imprint would dominate.

The burly chieftain suddenly stood as a figure approached along the hard rock walkways of the bivouac on the lower slopes beneath the Grand Valley Clans cavern abodes while they waited for supply and reinforcement from the other nearby clans before marching north.  

Jeisena had stayed with the caravan and would place Ulwyn with the other civilians to be sent to the Singing Mountains clan lands, among the safest on the planet.

“Chieftain,” Haldan said respectfully to Alwyn she nodded in reply,
“I wish to speak with Jo’Set’Mack,” uncertain Jo stood as she led away from the main fires.

“Congratulations,” he said breaking the silence as she kept walking
“On your victory, a good start I suppose,”
“But only a start,” she replied
“I heard you fought bravely, like the Fanged God himself Haldan said,”
“I wouldn’t say that, still a little rusty,” he said feeling the rust ache in his muscles.

“I can see why Jeisena chose you, strong in body, the Arts and honour, fighting for a cause which is hardly your own…it is perhaps a shame she marked you first,”

He stopped in his tracks
“Marked?”
“As her mate,” she glanced backward with a sad smile
“You are of a very good stock, you would make a fitting consort for a chief such as I…you may still,”

Now turning fully she stood much too close to him, a sweaty scent from the battle still clinging to her practical native clothes, her face largely natural as most of the war paint had been sweated off.
“As Chief I have certain privileges, to take whatever male I please…would it please you also?”

Jo stood dumbfounded, flattered but....  He couldn’t deny Alwyn was a far kinder and equally attractive version of Jeisena, in fact if he had been given the choice…

“I…for better or worse, my family is with Jeisena, I can’t betray her,”

“Betray? Monogamy is not a Dathomiri concept if that is what concerns you,”

She paused seeing his face unchanged from the saddened refusal

“She treats you abysmally, you would be shown as much honour and respect as any male as my mate, and Winged Goddess willing active father of the next leaders of a free Dathomir, you could teach them about the greater galaxy,”

Jo ran his hand across his face, mind and heart in turmoil
“Maker that…that would be…wonderful but…”
Alwyn shook her head
“I could force the matter,” she said in her ‘leaders’ voice
“My sister would, but I will not,”

A frustrated sigh she pushed gently past him back toward the main camp.

“Fight well again Jo’Set’Mack, perhaps Jeisena will if not reward, at least not deride you,”

He stood for nearly half an hour rooted to the spot, wondering if he had just chosen the wrong sister.

<<<<>>>>
 
“You used a Terror Orb,” Milaea leaned forward hands on hips, face still smudged by dust.

“A perfectly timed one,” Karintha said keeping her cool against the outrage radiating from the younger woman.

The Matriarch understood Milaea’s power was such that she could easily infect others with her own emotions, especially if she was not keeping a tight rein on them.

“Not the point, that kind of weapon is horrendous! You know how terrible that afflicted everyone on Ord Mirit – and then the memory ripping!”

Milaea shook her head
“This was a mistake…we should grab Taran and leave,”

And there it was, Milaea’s regret, as Kiraea had said it always came after the die was already cast.  

“We made a promise to our allies, assist them in removing Lykana, we agreed to use only traditional weapons and tactics, we have done exactly that…and consuming the enemies memory only expedites our efforts,”

Even now her sixth level of consciousness was processing the knowledge obtained of Reaper...enchantments, alchemy, abilities…

Milaea had hoped, believed even that Karintha was different, greeting the Gods of Dathomir, trying to parlay with Lykana.  Yet Karintha was still an Aethan Guardian through and through, given half the chance she would use outsiders as sparring partners in fatal set pieces…or data drives to be hacked and ripped.

But Karintha was correct about one thing, events had proceeded past the point of no return for Aethan involvement.

“Those techniques are too dangerous,” Milaea said staunchly redirecting her complaint.

“Given the enemy will likely investigate and learn ways to counter such, there is no reason for us to try the same trick twice…” Karintha offered a sort of concession before turning the conversation toward the future, rather than dwelling.

“Perhaps you, Jenaea and Lyaea should join the Spiderclan’s when we march out, spread our experience gained from the Dathomiri groups,”

“This is like the Vong isn’t it?” Milaea changed tact just as rapidly as she processed the evidence before her.

“We’re making the Dathomiri…training tools, these battles are live fire exercises, until we learn how to reclaim Taran safely,”

“We are ensuring the People gain the maximum benefit from this situation, that is all,”

“…I respect you’re taking on more and more…control…something I’m not yet ready for,” Milaea added, an ambiguous statement of intent in her last words

“I just don’t want the focus to shift from rescuing Taran to looting the Dathomiri,”

“I understand,” Karintha soothed as she stood to supportively take her hand and reaffirm their indissoluble bond as People

“After this is over we will have an extensive discussion, the two of us with Lyaea and Ari about the future leadership of the People.” Karitnha concluded knowing by then her Matriarchal title would already be indisputable.

<<<<>>>>

She disliked the artificiality of the images, the grainy empty light was an affront in some way she could not articulate, yet there was little choice.

The Great Canyon had been a loss, but not a devastating one, and it served to bring all her enemies together in a single force making it all the more convenient to defeat them in a single stroke.

But first….

“There are fourteen accoridng to our estimates,” The curious creature known as a nimbanel said on the other side of the rotating hologram of nine faces.  

The Iridonian Ima-Kun and his second Ran-Gof still beside the servile nimbanese technical expert serving the 14th Legion.

“Facial recognition picked up one of them as a 70 per cent match to a former Jedi once under a 20 million credit bounty now presumed dead…”

“I’ve no interest in what they were, only how they may be removed,” Lykana replied irritated at the presence of so many offworlders, in her sanctum and among her enemies.

The image had been taken by ‘Nano-Vipe’ Droids she had arranged to be hidden in equipment sent to Zhen’jha and deployed on the day of the battle. All the faces appeared similar, as if they were all sisters of the same mother.

The plain blue image switched to a strange amalgam of yellows, reds and whites that made rough shapes of their bodies.

“Their thermal signature is significantly different to human standard, even all known humanoid standards,” The nimabanel sniffed behinds it strange tusked face
“Their species remains frustratingly unknown.”

“What does all this mean?” she said already irritated they had not struck, apparently they needed time to ‘research’ their opponents, an oddly patient action given Ima-Kuns radiation of sheer savagery.

“It means our thermal scanners can pinpoint them separate from the natives,”

natives… such an attitude was exactly why Lykana knew she was needed to bring Dathomir into a new age.

“Combined with our Stealth field generators we can eliminate these interlopers quietly as per your instruction,”

The most insidious thing about these offworlders she faced was they did not appear as offworlders, their clothes and weapons could pass as Dathomiri.

“You are confident you can destroy them with your weapons?”

Ima-Kun gave a single nod.

She contemplated how to deploy them.

“Have your hunters prepare, I will be sending some of my Reapers to harry them as they march, they can join in the attack and use that as cover, now leave,”

The professionals were swiftly out of the room, again Ima-Kun eyeing the Varangian with a strange combination of envy and desire.

Lykana flicked her wrist and her vast guardian brought out her grimoire the Book of Shadows.  Her direct attack had failed, and with the Singing Mountain and Misty Falls witches their defences would be even stronger - she would revise to augmenting her own troops rather than striking theirs.

Throwing open the book she found the perfect spell.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 12, 2021, 12:51:33 AM
 
Chapter 39 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Talon of the Winged Goddess — Part 5
Ambush

The first victory buoyed the whole army, a sense of confidence that made the next three days march fly by as they told tales of their deeds, to their new allies and commemorated the fallen.

With the new clans they numbered 400, a significant force given most reports indicated Lykana’s force at Blood Peak numbered only 300, and at Rancors tooth just over 500, importantly almost every clan east of the Old Republic Prison and Deepwood had now promised to send warriors.

This changed the marching plans of the Coalition, From the Great Canyon they would head north through the grazelands to pick up more warriors, then through the Highpine forests to the western side of the River Break Mountains where the River Break and Great River Tribes had promised to join them, finally jumping off the fence they had been sitting.

From there they could head to Rancors Tooth and confront Lykana directly with fully half the Clans of the mainlands.

That the First engagement had been a large battle was unfortunate, Alwyn still hoped for a surrender.

Karintha still desired to extend their time to learn and try themselves against the Dathomiri.

She would get her wish.
<<<<>>>>
(https://i.ibb.co/RpZrbpR/Reaper-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/RpZrbpR)(https://i.ibb.co/hLbBXSJ/Jen-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/hLbBXSJ)
The Forest seemed terribly quiet compared to those Jenaea was used to on Aethas.

Sounds, smells, heat and mass of course, but the animals here lacked the intensity of aetheric use, less peaceful than eerie as the black painted faces of the spider clan scouts she patrolled ahead of the main force with.

Her stealth skills were not top tier, she had learned basics from Sofa and Kiraea but barely put them to the test.

And that’s why Karintha sent me with them

To avoid the embarrassment of being outshone by the outsiders she had to push herself over the last four charting a path for the main army and avoiding the sporadic traps.

Many were forgotten hunting traps, but more were intentional – large spike pits filled, leg traps, dangling sacs filled with noxious poisons.

Jenaea made up for stealth abilities with an uncanny knack for sensing and these and more eldritch snares – Cursed circles, rune laced passages between trees. Years of just knowing when a random beating from her enslavers was coming  gave her an innate ability to sense impending danger - a sorrowful legacy.

Moving rich greens of all shades from near black to almost yellow she paused at a divot in the ground, touching it gently with her hand, thermal vision detecting trace heat.

<Tracks…> she signalled Lyaea and Milaea,

<Native?> Lyaea asked, her party girl demeanour set aside for the soberness of war.

<It doesn’t align to the fauna we’ve seen> she slowly traced the nearly imperceptible indents forward
<I’ll head back and bring one of the sisters, they should…>

Instincts screamed, head snapped back to avoid the searing white bolt that struck the tree carbonizing the bark and sizzling the sap within…
An instant later the trunk exploded outward.

<FRELL ME!> she dove to the leaf riddled floor and moved faster than she thought she could in the ‘spiders dance’ as the Dathomiri called their unique form of low ambulation

<Enemy?>
<Weapon, energized coating, and projectile core that exploded after impact> she described
<Mass reactive round with blaster sheath> Lyaea deduced <We use them in our Hades Rifles, what colour was the bolt?>

<White blur> she replied as she felt her spine all but freeze with the imminence of attack

<Suppressed Sniper…likely an XT-9> Lyaea used her experience in picking out designs for the Hades rifles.

<But who shot it> Milaea asked even as she scanned the area Jenaea was in

“We’ll find out soon,” Lyaea replied half to Milaea half to Knissa whom she had crawled up beside

“We’ve got snipers using off world weaponry, signal everyone to draw back and if they can reduce their body heat as much as possible,”

If Lyaea was setting up an ambush she would be using thermals to hunt rather than visual in such a dense forest, so she assumed the outsiders would be as well.

Knissa simply nodded having already learned to trust her allies instincts and made the signals needed with the ‘Silken Song’ a barely audible low pitched whistle.

<There is more coming there is…>
Two more shots barely missed Jenaea slamming into the ground.  She rolled to avoid the explosions of soil that followed.
<Frell, they’re everywhere!>

And nowhere too, Milaea realised, she couldn’t sense them
.
<They must have cloaks, aetheric as well as regular…>
<Not any more…> Lyaea replied as the once all too quiet forest erupted in violence.

Reaper scouts lying in wait pounced on the Spider clan women they could while 14th Legions Vulpes, stealth field generators active and bristling at the strange static feel of the Witches ‘invisibility’ spells and totems around their necks used their thermal scanners to hunt the metahumans.

Poison darts and arm mounted crossbows were the projectiles of choice as others blitzed the odd shuriken deflected on long thin and heavily poisoned blades as a battle of scouts and assassins chained across a kilometre of forest.

Though barely numbering 20 on either side, the speed of movement and ability to conceal turned it into a large scale game of Rancor and Bolma, exposing offered the chance to attack more accurately, and hiding risked being found.

Swinging down from the tree three bolts struck an ancient limb just under Milaea forcing her to land heavily into a roll.

The Vulpes largely ignored the natives that rushed back and forward between them as they relentlessly stalked their true targets.

Jenaea needed to take the fight to her opponents, but how could she sneak up on someone she couldn’t see?

She simply didn’t have a choice.  Tracing back vectors and trying to predict their motions she turned back around to take them head on.

In the silent war there was no central point to hold or lose, only the vague intent of eliminating as many of the enemy as possible knowing half would probably slink away never to be seen.

The fighting was no less fierce for it.  A reaper caught by two spiders was stabbed twenty times, a spider scout wandered aimlessly under the hallucinatory effects of a dart before being indifferently finished off by a crossbow.

Clashes were few but invariably deadly between trained assassins.

Milaea found fresh corpses as she stayed mobile trying to round against her pursuers while Lyaea and Knissa teamed to try and find the enemy leader before the Vulpes forced her to break off.

Straight toward the source of the projectiles that would have paralyzed her with fear a year ago Jenaea tracked a slight haze in pollens kicked up by movement.

She sprung tree trunk to tree trunk toward a chest level distortion twisting in a leap hurling her daggers straight at either side of the phase break.

Blackstone with angered momentum buried through the comparatively weak armour and into the iridonians chest, another loss followed quickly as Milaea leapt down to shatter another bulky Vulpes - her weight tripled by an aetheric gravity distortion, bones crunching under armour.

Lyaea raced through the more aggressive volleys into the middle of her three hunters who thought they now had her boxed in.  They fired simultaneously confident they couldn’t be seen, a confidence that diminished as their projectiles curved under Lyaea’s telekinetic prowess at each other. 

They moved fast enough to avoid but each motion at close range made detection easier, her bow quickly in hand she launched off three quick arrows where she thought one was – one out of three shots was all she got and all she needed.

Fire from above pinned Jenaea as another on ground moved to limit her options further. Shots began to get too close, her instinctual kinetite shield bouncing one shot away.

Forced to choose between targets she hurled her last dagger - missing to her annoyance, little recourse she telekinetically grasped at the entire forest floor and pulled up, explosions of dirt wrong footing the Iridonian, creating a silhouette of soil around his cloaking field. She relied on genhanced strength to bash him to death through the armour. 

His resistance was firm, cloaking field making it hard for her to counter and a vibro blade pierced her vosis scale vest the tip scratching at her skin – just as the third Vuples fired a shot straight at her back.

The kinetite shield only partially deflected it at such close range, the energy burning the gormin leather cloak she wore, the reactive round detonating on her back with a heated blossom.

She rolled off and scrambled to summon her daggers, one hastily plunged into the grounded iridonian before he could recover, the other sent straight at where a second muzzle flash burned – the dagger pierced the rifles scope and through to the helmet beneath, but his second shot still hit her square in the shoulder, vosis scale and gormin leather took the brunt but she was burned still.

Without pausing she rushed to where she felt Lyaea, bouncing between trees, narrowly avoiding the fiery plume of a thermal mine and the toxic green of a gas trap intended for her, gaining height with each jump between trunks she came down into the hazy mirage like air with both daggers killing the last of Lyaea’s attackers.

Jenaea’s sense of imminent danger finally subsided, Milaea must’ve finished her own attackers off.

<That is the last of them…for now>
<<<<>>>>

“And they only targeted your kind,” Alwyn confirmed, the other members of the council visibly worried about the escalation of off world warriors into the conflict.

“Correct, with those thermal scanners and sniper rifles they could’ve killed many of the Spider clan once they were exposed by the Reaper scouts,” Milaea replied, her injuries no more than faint pink splotches on her skin.

“This bodes ill,” Djo, the tall thin chief of the Singing Mountain Clan said, unused to their ‘offworld’ allies she stood at the furthest distance around the table from Karintha and Milaea as possible

“If in response to our…allies…then we may have given Lykana writ to engage even more potent technologies against us,”

“Yorna stood against the Varangian with us, all Karintha’s folk fight with honour and weapons and armour no different to our own, there is no excuse for using off world weapons like that,” Aun said defensively

“And that male with the ‘lit-saber” Djo countered

“Is the mate of Jeisena Hri, his weapon no different to your own power staves in essence,” Peola replied

“Even so…it is a dangerous turn…” Yzzerhera’s aged voice respected by all,

“If these offworlders are sent to destroy my kin,” Karintha spoke up
“Then we shall draw them away from your forces if they return and deal with them in isolation, or if they attempt to use their aerial vehicles, counter those to ensure the Law of Battle is respected.”

“And thereby become reliant on your protection from off world intrusion?” Djo ‘snapped’ - her words were soft and measured but among matriarchs and elder women the subtlest tone shift carried great weight.

Milaea feared just that.  Friendship and Alliance had a very different meaning to the People than the Dathomiri, they thought it a respectful agreement between people who acted as equals, regardless of material disparity.  The People could not conceptualise relating to any other group as equals, only as servants to be exploited or enemies to be culled.

“We have no designs upon your world or culture beyond reclaiming our lost kin and mutually profitable trade, clan Mother Yzzerhera has been most helpful in providing information on the means of breaking his enthrallment, though more research is needed…and as guests of Alwyn Hri we are bound by our own laws of hospitality to defend against any aggressor to our host,”

“Then perhaps Chief Hri might consider respectfully asking you to depart,” Djo dug in
“The last thing we need is two offworld factions using our land and skies as an arena,”

Alwyn disliked both sides of the choice growing before her.  Karintha’s kind were a powerful asset she would be foolish to dismiss, especially against Lykana, yet increasingly she feared their intentions.

“It’s too late…” Alwyn finally sighed

“Events have already overtaken us in this regard, we can only hope Lykana is sane enough to restrict her use of offworld forces to against ours…to that extent the playing field is even,”

“Though based on this last engagement it seems they have an advantage…” Peola noted grimly

“I will be sure to increase our preparedness,” Karintah was quick to assure
“I will summon the males of my People,” she glanced quickly to Milaea
All of them and their retinue,”
<The Extolled?> Milaea queried in a millisecond
<They are ferocious loyal warriors are they not?>
<Too much so…>
“You have my word, these Iridonians will not interfere again,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 12, 2021, 12:53:49 AM
 
Chapter 39 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Talon of the Winged Goddess — Part 7

Retaliation
“Brothers this is a glorious day, we will manifest the Wrath of the Goddesses upon the flesh of the Heretical Ir-idon-yans, by the score shall we take their heads and consign their soul to the…”

“We get it, lots of blood and glory, less talking more doing,” Taryn snapped at the over enthusiastic Maekal as he let the Karintha Class Assault Transport drift on solar winds.

Taryn was as bloodthirsty as the next man, all the more so as his babe Lyaea had been attacked directly, but he didn’t turn it into a sermon like Maekal.

In a sign of growing trust Taryn was to lead Maekal and Evyn in the boarding action on the Iridonian Command Carrier in reprisal for their ambush on Dathomir. 

Though in Maekals case Taryn suspected Valens just wanted to be rid of the zealous little brat for a few days. The former ‘living god’ had transferred his fanatical energy to praise of the Triune Goddesses - of course Maekal considered himself the ‘Prodigal Son’ whose return signalled a Golden Age or some such nonsense Maekal insisted on explaining in hour long diatribes during their careful positioning for the attack.

Evyn by blessed contrast barely spoke a word not related to the mission itself - so silent at times it was unnerving.

<Should I engage the sublights now> Xanaea asked Taryn from another of the three transports.  The young girl was given piloting duties to allay her fear of missing out on the action.

<Do it when you feel it’s right Niblett> he replied
<You gotta feel the currents, trust your guts and all that jazz>

Taryn wasn’t worried for Xanaea’s safety, she was piloting Valens and Jarys with twelve Extolled Hunters, ain’t nothing was hurting that teenage girl short of the star going nova.

On the third vessel was Lydan, The Old Man and Maeson, the latter itching to try his new Hades II Repeater, a chunky 60 kilogram weapon that combined Chiss Macro-MASER technology with Phirk projectiles, the Chiss had developed the weapon originally as a fixed position heavy weapon being far too heavy to carry with each of the 200 ‘bullets’ weighing a further 500 grams…

A broad shouldered Aethan farmer however was able to haul it no problem.

He lined up the thick hulled Command Carrier, like so much Iridonian design it was blocky and thickly armour plated.  Taryn had taken his time designing this attack as he would any of the hundred of piratical boarding action he had before. 

There was a shavit tonne of maths behind an effective raid, determining vectors, acceleration projections, gravity arcs and the like to work out how to intercept target craft, ensuring they couldn’t simply accelerate out of the way - and for the boarding itself you needed to understand shield frequencies, hull density and the shear strength of the plating.

All this he had factored together with Xani and Jarys assistance to resolve on ram raiding the doonium hull with the Karintah transports far denser Blackstone hull and leaping into the breach.

Of course in addition to the mathematical precision you needed to get damn lucky and have a good sense of timing.

That time was now.

Without warning he slammed off the Stealth drive and inertial dampers so he could feel the g’s and the ship in his bones as he hit the sublights from zero to overdrive, all power from stealth, shields and life support pushed into the Chiss engines that shrieked like metal on ice and the sudden burn.

The sublights  would be picked up by the Iridonians, but the Aethans three hour long powered down - except for stealth drives - drift to this point left the horn heads too little time to scramble fighters to intercept, and even at full thrust the Command carrier - assuming Taryn’s guess about their engines capacity was right - couldn’t avoid a collision.

Point defence batteries opened up against the three transports instantly, the Legion prized manual targeting and considering the speed of the transports were doing a damn good job of hitting by firing at precisely the place where the vectors of the ship and turbo laser would intersect.

The Transports started taking hits, the Blackstone hulls holding against the yellow-white bolts, they could take around 5 direct hits before a section was compromised, as Taryn rattled in his chair he felt number three.

“Give us a boost boys!” he yelled as if he was on the bridge of the Kyala once more, booming across to surly pirates who’d sooner stab him than serve him if he showed the slightest weakness.

Maekal and Evyn complied without question using their telekinetic powers to pull the transport even faster, additional acceleration causing an otherwise well placed shot to skid off the heated crater left by the last three.

The thick moving hull of the Command Carrier filled the view screen, the symbol of the 14th speeding past as the Iridonians tried to avoid a collision.

They wouldn't be so lucky.

To the far side he felt rather than saw two black serrated bores fire from Xani’s ships - torpedoes in advance of the ramming that ploughed into the doonium, tearring ferociously as they spun at several thousand hertz through the vessel.

Taryn smiled as he fired off his own, he’d make a pirate Queen of her yet.

Pieces of shattered doonium blasted out from the impact crater bouncing off the transport just as the pointed tip hit.  The Vessel lurched at encountering something other than void to ply through, but momentum kept it grinding inwards.

Sparking cables and metal scratched along the hull as they ground inside, Taryn slamming on the reverse thrusters, plasteel on interior walls they were now eating through melting into blobs.

The ships finally ended in a dead stop surrounded by three decks of ruin.

In a single flourish Taryn spun from his seat, clipped on his helm, pulled his Hades pistol and twirled his Blackstone Katana.

“Right boys let’s make some noise.”

<<<<>>>>

Iridonian reputation for toughness and savagery was well earned.

Every section, every hall the Aethan men progressed through was a grind that left their armour that much more glowing from blaster hits, their ammunition that much lower.

The Legions ship wasa reflection of an Iridonian Legionnaire's mind, zero wasted space, every room featuring double doors and defensible cover positions, every hallway equipped with thermal sweep auto turrets.

They would move cover to cover firing with pinpoint accuracy that required teleport shunts to avoid, when an Aethan would telekinetically drag one out of cover they would slam grenades on their own belts active in a suicidal blaze of hate.

Their armour was tough enough to take two direct Hades rifle hits and even stood a few blows against blackstone daggers and swords, with physical strength enough to require Jarys to have to try twice to tear one's head off.

Any time the Aethans managed to gain the advantage they would fall back, leaving one of their number to die to cover the rest. The entire ship was a masterclass in defence in depth as the deeper the Aethans plunged the more prepared and equipped they found their enemy.

Maeons’ repeater tore through cover and hull causing many sections to depressurize, the Legion voided even more sections to throw them off until they realized all the Aethans were in EV capable suits - not that they needed to breathe much anyway. The 12 Extolled with him keeping the tremor sword Vulpes from getting too close.

Maekal bellowed curses upon their eternal souls and charged forth where he could, taking heads after savage fast fights that Taryn had to admit showed the slightly younger boy had impressive skills and moments of Valens lethal polish.

Maekal would raise the heads to the closed circuit cameras and yell challenges at the Iridonian leader demanding he face him in single combat or “Forever be known to Gods and Men as Coward and Knave!”

Evyn skirted the edges driving his thin sword into armour gaps, his sister poisons causing the victims to convulse and vomit in their helmets.

Valens and Jarys strode forward ignoring the Legion troops, occasionally flicking their wrists to send heavy weapons emplacements into the ceiling, or slam blast doors open with their boots. The Legion troops would fire on them from behind only to be taken in turn by the Extolled contingent whose blorash jelly pinned the Legions hands to their sides, feet to the floor, yet still the Iridonians fought knife to amphistaff giving as good as they got.

Lydan and Melron took an alternate route, walking through the tunnel of wreckage their ship had created to the hull, and space walking to a higher section, the shepherd tearing panels free, the Old Man leaping inside to open another front.

Back to a column Taryn swung out both pistols firing into the chest piece of a briefly exposed Legionnaire, both shots hit precisely the same spot and were chained with telekinetic shutter point aether blast that cracked the armour allowing the maser blast to eat into the exposed torso.  He took a shot to the leg that his armour saved for the trouble.

The Mission timer on his HUD showed they had been in the vessel nearly two hours.  He had expected they would be done by now.

<How close are we!> he asked

<One deck to the engines> Jarys responded pushing his way through a tear in a lead shielded door way while his brother's lighting bubbled the plastic components of a Legionaries armour into heated streak that ate his skin.  Enraged by the pain the Iridonian charged viciously, throwing one slash that Valens just dodged before planting his blackstone boot into the knee, then swiping off the head with his blade.

<Left side of the bridge doors… >Maeson grunted from cover
<We’re on the right> Lydan equally pressed added as he blocked a series of heavy repeater shots with his Naginata, the defensive enchantments his hallowed wife had placed on the weapon never more useful.

Taryn’s mouth twisted in annoyance.  His own team was just outside the Port hangar that he should’ve taken twenty minutes ago. He couldn’t complain too much, his old pirate crew would’ve been shaviting their pants and running after fifteen minutes against the Legion.

That the eight Aethan men and thirty six Vong had progressed this far was amazing…

Heh, guess my expectations have gone up
<Something wrong with the floor Evyn?> he asked.

The assassin trained Aethan smiled as he dropped down onto the Legion barring the port hangar blast door.  It was a new experience, this more open combat, but Evyn was finding ways to use the chaos of battle to cloak himself even more expertly, relying on his comrades' misdirection to line up more perfect kills.

His daggers sung through the air never missing a joint between torso and shoulder, or leg and hip before he leapt back away knowing the non-fatal blows would cause the Iridonians to lash out.  he rolled backwards as Taryn and Maekal came up behind firing straight into the bleeding Legion who couldn’t stand for the severed ligaments Evyn had inflicted.

Not even pausing in his stride Taryn kept firing till there was a molten hole in the door he could telekinetically grip to rend inwards.

While his expertise was in taking vessels intact and selling them off, Taryn knew the best way to destroy a ship was from the inside out, and the best weapons were sitting in fighter docks.

The attacks on the engines and bridge were distractions, drawing the majority of the scores of Legionnaires to defend those critical locations while Taryn and the boys now burst into the port hangar guns glazing.

The Legion had taken strong defensive positions behind deployable shields and hardy durasteel shipping containers, heavy weapons muzzles sweeping down from the gantries.

Barely had they stepped in when the entire hangar turned into a raucous cacophony of blaster, green and red bolts blackening every wall and object as the three aethan’s advanced, using their telekinetic powers to rip up their enemies cover and slam it back down upon those not fast enough to roll away while simultaneously firing their hades rifles into every exposed piece of armour they could.

Effective as the Legion was they had no way to counter aetheric abilities that turned stationary objects into accelerating projectiles or lifted cover from the floor.

Maekal charged ahead bellowing hubris filled challenges to any who would listen, an Iridonian with Red insignia rushed to meet him tremor sword in hand, the Aethan boy smiled with glee, professing he was the Living Justice of the Goddesses upon the unbelievers.

The fast and brutal duel ended with Maekal taking the head just as he’d promised before being forced back into cover by concentrated fire. Unfortunate, Taryn thought knowing from his own experience sometimes a loss was good for a bit of humility, and the god-king brat needed that.

With Evyn leaping onto the gantries to relieve pressure from above Taryn gripped two of the fighter cradles with his mind as he kept up firing opportunistic shots from behind a sizzling dented container.

The fighter cradles crashed down onto three Legionnaires opposite Maekal, giving the boy the chance to rush through a gap to leap on another fighter, ripping the cockpit open he began to power weapons systems, but more fire forced him to abandon the effort.

<We’re getting close start to pull out not> Taryn ordered despite the temporary set back, they were wearing down the Legionnaires in the hangar by one a minute, but Evyn was showing obvious signs of fatigue, Taryn out of projectile ammunition and Maekal frustrated to the point of a tantrum pinned by intense fire.

Lydan and Melron obeyed swiftly fighting a retreat away from the bridge as Xani backed out their rammed transports, slaving the three together, leaving gaping wounds that spewed cables and metal into space.

<Give me shield god-boy!> Taryn ordered to Maekals irritation, still he complied as Taryn ran from cover feeling the wrap of  Maekal projecting a kinetic and energy shield around him that bounced off the majority of shot that hit as he ran to a fighter in a repair bay, the cockpit open and half the side exposed.

Realising what he intended the Legion focused all their fire on him, this simply allowed Evy and Maekal to strike at them in the lull, Evyn in particular no longer trying to be stealthy unleashing ferocious blasts of lighting that overloaded Legion armour circuirtary forcing them to ditch their helmets, offering tempting targes.

Undaunted Taryn took an aether powered leap into the cockpit, a Legionnaire reached over to stab him, Taryn punched as hard as he could shattering the head behind the armoured faceplate.

Ducking under the lip of the cockpit less for cover than to get at the wires he heard the familiar bellow of the Extolled as Jarys and Valens retinue arrived, doubling the Legions problems.

Quick hands and deft slices hotwired the fighters generator and put all power to the weapons.  not even moving the ship he opened fire - space grade quad lasers firing indsicimiantly into the cradled fighters on the far wall.  twisting copper and duraluminium wires together to make it keep on firing without him he leapt out as the cannons continued to chew the comparatively weak internal walls of the command carrier.

The last of the Legion fell just as Jarys stepped in, the Extolled collecting up trophies from their fallen foes.

Grabbing a mounted laser whose gunner he had slain, Evyn turned the heavy cannon on the power clamps either side of the hangar bay doors and blew them out to disable the atmosphere shield, showering poor Maekal with sparks as he hacked the doonium doors open.

Atmosphere lurched out with a puff as the Port hangar was exposed to the void, two Karintha class transports showing their open rear hatches as the Extolled affixed the gnulliths to breathe for the short jump.

<I think now?> Xanaea in the third transport facing forward asked as Melron and Lydan with only two-thirds of the Extolled they had started joined the run to leap to their escape vessels.

<Now Niblett> Taryn agreed as he leapt, two shikkar torpedoes zipped past him dangerously close.

He missed the landing and was dragged in the transport by Evyn with a telekinetic assist as the shikkars ate through the belly of the Carrier.

Legionnaires scrambled to escape pods and ships on the Starboard hangar as the retaliatory force left the bleeding wreck of a ship to die as the torpedoes proton bomb cores detonated with blue ice fire.

 
<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on July 13, 2021, 07:13:05 PM
The war continues: two battles juxtaposed against one another proving immutable facts that those willing to do what the other side does NOT expect will continue to have a definitive advantage (to say nothing of the Aethan cultural initiative do learn/absorb absolutely EVERYTHING that they can, lest they experience a 2nd Devastation).  However, there are now those who voice their opposition to their so-called ally's motives and actions (indeed their very involvement), their trepidations proving correct in light of the outcome of the Battle of the Great Canyon.  As has happened all too often in the past, many of those fighting are blind to the actual costs that have accrued, both overt and hidden...

Interestingly enough, the effectiveness of Force-based tactics amongst the relatively primitive warfare between the Aethans and Lykana reminds me of the two sides of the New Sith Wars where the strategies employed still had to account for mundanities (troop strength, theater conditions, etc) as both sides' Force-enhancements and offensives were most deadly when used in conjunction with conventional tactics.  Consider: one of the biggest advantages that the Aethans possess is their ability to effectively communicate amidst the chaos of battle without worry that their enemies can eavesdrop on their plans.  Coupled with absolute precision and "unknown" weapons (from the Dathomiri perspective) of the Terror Bomb, the Aethan advantages become more and more apparent.

This is only further exemplified by the space battle between the Command Carrier of the 14th Legion and the Karintha-class Assault ship: with the Legion taking full advantage of "modern" instruments of warfare, they can mitigate some of the innate assets of the People (and their Vong allies).  Unfortunately for the Legion, Taryn is all too willing to return the favor, drawing upon his own experiences from his pirate days.  Certainly makes things interesting when one considers that these battles will help the Aethans in future conflicts, one of which we know is right around the corner...

On a meta-level, excellent and exciting storytelling.  Much of the time whenever I read about battles or warfare, the narrative tends to get too caught up in the specifics without proper context for an organic flow (usually by way of an Out-of-Scene Info Dump, derailing the urgency of the setting).  Taryn's POV (who is, BTW, one of my favorite characters  :)) makes for the perfect balance between "form" and "function," seeing the action through his eyes was a fantastic choice.

Just curious: did I miss "Part 6?"


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 13, 2021, 09:12:39 PM
Just curious: did I miss "Part 6?"

No part 6 just poor attention to numbering!
Glad you enjoyed it and the key element of the critical skill of combining force abilities and conventional military tactics came through - inspired by your own Schisms and Exodus that do it so well.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on July 14, 2021, 05:44:14 PM
No part 6 just poor attention to numbering!
Glad you enjoyed it and the key element of the critical skill of combining force abilities and conventional military tactics came through - inspired by your own Schisms and Exodus that do it so well.
I know the feeling; sometimes I don't proofread like I should and find a glaring mistake in my own writing that gets me thinking "Now why didn't I catch that?"  ;)

And thanks!  To reiterate, I've always enjoyed good war stories and RotA is no exception: tight action, exciting scenes, combatants that we care about, antagonists that we love to root against.

Keep them coming, LSG!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on July 15, 2021, 03:01:09 PM
Trying to get caught up on this ... and I am skimming to much.   :-)   But even then, amazing!   I have to admit I am a bit to invested in the "Jo" segments, but what to expect from a poor Mak'Tor?  LOL

Loving the flow and symmetry.   Looking forward to more, and maybe someday I'll be able to read this more slowly and in greater detail.  For now, though, I am enjoying the ongoing saga!  :-)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 22, 2021, 11:58:32 PM
Chapter 40 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —   Jaws of the Fanged God — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/C7VKjBX/Forest-2.jpg) (https://ibb.co/C7VKjBX)
Ambush of the High Pine Forest
Progress dramatically slowed after the ambushes began. 

The Reapers took advantage of every possible way to stymie their progress, as complex as Still Circles of Rune carved stones that locked people within until the pell was unwound, and simple as sending wild heard of Bolma changing through the trees…and the vast bipedal grey skinned amalgam of claw and tooth Jo now found himself facing.

Nydaks were not native to the forest, obviously brought here by the Reapers to attack the small groups the army was moving in, the creatures were all the more ferocious for it, scars from transport collars on the neck.

It hissed and spat as it pounded toward him, the limp body of a Northman chewed in its charge hurled aside as it sought to collect even more man-meat.

“Spread out…try and surround it,” Jo said calmly as he could as his sabre hovered close to his face, the unfamiliar red glow lighting the otherwise shadowed dense forest.

As the northmen moved it lashed out straight at Jo, seemingly drawn to the low of his blade, he used that to his advantage, darting back and forth in front of it while Haldan moved around to the back in a wide arc behind the trees.

It slashed and tore at Jo, smacked back the spears the other Northmen tried to pierce it with, Jo kept an eye on Haldan as he slowly moved to get behind it, a few spittle filled lunges wetting his shirt.

As Jos shifted back further the beast spun, ugly blackened claws tearing toward Haldan before he could strike, the big man took a blow on the left arm and fell.
 
Jo wasted no time reversing his motion from back to forwards and slamming himself forward with the Force, and empowered leap putting him half a meter off the ground as he brought his blade down carving a huge cauterized wound down the creature back that spun as it turned on him.

It turned feral that instant raging and frothing as another Northman hurled an Elector Javelin into its right arm, the energy pulse deadening the nerves making it limp.

The left arm reached for Jo who half falling back slashed quickly to eat through the meat of the forearm as the claws scraped his face drawing blood, Haldan recovered planting his spear finally in its back.

Wobbling all three men spent another two minute methodically taking the creature apart till it finally died with a grunted sigh.

“A good fight ‘eye!” the bleeding Haldan boomed slapping Jo on the back as the Gray Jedi wiped his own blood from his eyes.

Jo felt only sadness for the poor creature taken out of its habitat and forced to fight in the forests…not unlike himself.

“Another fight,” he replied grimly
“’eye that’s the spirit, always another fight baldy!”

Haldan was not wrong, the northmen began to encounter two or three traps a day for the next five days, the other groups at a similar rate, slowly bleeding their numbers by a half a dozen to a dozen a day.

Reapers made hit and run attacks directly as they neared the edge of the forest, the traps became more advanced.  The groups with Aethans tended to fare better to the point Karintha had them split between all ten main parties to assist the Dathomiri and provide a quicker communications link via telepathy than the leaf and flax covered Green Spring Clan forest messenger runners previously in use.

“Long time no see,” Sofa had said strolling up casually to Jo after being assigned to their group.

He wasn’t sure what to say to her after all this time, all that animosity.

“Well let’s just get things out of the way,” Sofa sighed in her typical over theatrical way.

Without so much as a warning the right side of his face exploded in pain and he found himself sniffing the loamy forest floor as Haldan barked with laughter.

“That is for trying to kill my husband and beating on my friend Selaena” she said kneeling to help him up

His wounds from the nydak covered in a medicinal tree sap began to bleed again as he staggered up grasping her incredibly strong hand that lifted him as he would one of Ulwyn’s toys.

“Frell it Sofa, needed you two hours ago to bitch slap that Nydak,” he grinned, he had done some pretty shavit things – from her point of view - a single slap was merciful.

“Dealing with some Chirodactyls, irritating things, stink too, now let’s get moving we’re only half a day to the border.”

They had known each other a long time, ever since they were ten running around the Temple before the Exile of the Mak’tor while their masters Odjina and Soryu had trained or taught together.  While not close friends they had been cordial, and in latter years pulled together then foisted to opposite sides by their relationships to the Aethans.

“So I’m guessing…” Jo left it unsaid as the walked, the trees diminishing in size as the rolling green hills peaked between them in the distance.

“Yes he is alive,” Sofa said of her husband, the object of Jo’s vicious revenge plot
“So you better not do anything to irritate me,” she half joked “Don’t worry though, he’s only coming to deal with those damn Iridonian merc’s”

“One could almost pity them…” Jo mused as they came to the edge of the forest, low grassy rises up ahead on the open plains.

<Something is about to hit> Jenaea suddenly warned with her impeccable sense of danger.

“Order everyone to raise their shields,” Karintha immediately told Alwyn who did not second guess the Aethan woman whose foresight was invaluable in limiting causalities through the forest over the last week.

The reaction was not quite fast enough as a hail of arrows and Electro-Scorpion artillery screeched through the air straight at them from all along the hills ahead.

“Ambush, fall back into the…”

A war horn sounded behind and in a horrid response the craw, shriek and roar of dozens of vicious creatures at their rear.

“Trapped,” Alwyn realised certain the archers and artillery were too far on the hill to reach before the feral animals behind reached them. 

“Keep to the tree line, rest triple time!” she yelled, her orders carried to all the groups by the Aethan women and other Witches.

Controlled chaos erupted as the Coalition forces bolted trying to get out of range of the Archers while also hoping they could outpace the animals.

Already on the western flank Jo did what he could at a running pace to deflect the larger projectiles with the Force as the Northmen kept close to the trees rounded wooden shields over their heads, Sofa sending impeccable blasts of lighting that incinerated a dozen arrows each time while her aethan speed allowed her to avoid them herself.

On the eastern flank Kassyndra found herself pinned with the Grand Canyon Warriors as the top edge of the animals turned feral and possessed with ichor smoking green eyes struck them. Mostly Rhoa – Kwi with a few nydaks the Grand Canyon Rancors were able to use their enormous clawed hands to swipe them down two at a time, and even with their witches wards and Kassyndra’s own archery and telekinetic retaliation a number got through to savage the women warriors.

All along the Coalition front the race west began to slow as the rabid creatures hit them from the south, the mid sections were more prepared and took defensive positions to meet the attack and slay many of them on the first charge, the Spider clan archers, Lyaea and Adaea even moved south to snipe down a few waves before they arrived, elsewhere Yorna had her spear women hold a shield wall as she telekinetically slammed a vast ancient tree down on the beasts.

The constant toll from the rain of arrows on the scimitar wielding desert warriors as they hacked against two vicious armoured Malklocs forced Ari to turn her attention from the beasts to climb up a large tree, instinctually reaching out to Milaea who did likewise further to the east.

High enough to see the archers and artillery they linked across nearly three kilometres of forest and pooled their energy into a blunt but strong shock wave across the entire archer line, sending half their number flying 50 to 100 meters backwards before their coven support intervened. 

Leaping down from the tree Ari landed sword first into a Malklocs neck, taking the entire head off, Milaea with a shockwave of red that sent Rhoa Kwi flying into trees on crimson tendrils that shattered their bones.

It was a desperate half retreat that lasted till night fell and they had outpaced the artillery and the animal charges petered out.

The terrain was steeper as they reached the fringes of the River break mountains and Jo and Haldan took a hard position on natural rocky ground by a small stream.

Over the next few hours all the groups arrived in various states of disrepair, all told some 50 Dathomiri had been lost of their force of 400.

“We’re closer to the rendezvous at least,” Ianna found some hope as the council met amidst the triage of the wounded.

“But we took large losses and inflicted none in return,” Djo sombrely concluded

“This is what we chose,” Aun replied defiant, “Better this than starving from the excess tribute or taken by the Reapers in our sleep,”

It was cold comfort at best.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 23, 2021, 06:31:25 AM
Chapter 40 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Jaws of the Fanged God — Part 2
Lykana
Events had seemed to be turning in her favour after the Grand Canyon.  The ambushes were broadly successful in slowing and bleeding Alwyn’s army enough to let Lyra set a nasty trap for the traitors.

‘Seemed’ was still the operative word.  Her Iridonian Mercenaries had so far catastrophically failed to blunt the offworlers interference, and worse had lost one of their command carriers in an orbital battle against Alwyn’s allies.

Lykana wasn’t overly surprised, she knew what kind of power the Varangain alone could wield, against an army of such beings….even so...

“Nnnnhhhhhhh….” Ima Kun did his best not to groan as the Varangian held him up by the throat in the audience chamber of Rancor’s Tooth.

“I have paid you a small fortune, you assured me you were able to handle any enemies I set you against...should I have chosen the Mando clan instead?”

The grey-brown skin began to turn a sickly blue before Lykana flickered her fingers and the Varangian let him drop.

Recovering quickly the Iridonian pounded his fists onto the stone to raise himself back up.

“If you let us fight as we wished,” he coughed out…
“Not hiding, avoiding collateral casualties,”

Lykana could not disagree, her injunction that they only target the offworlders among Dathomiri ranks limited his options, though the oribtail defeat was still his own.

“Very well, do what you must, but only attack on instruction from one of my generals,”

With a huffing nod he left, again eyeing the Varangian, replaced by Lxa,

“This had best be good news cousin…” Lykana could feel her skin trembling to expel its moisture and leave her the withered husk she was without her glamorous and rejuvenations.

“Your Reapers have completed the...collection...all have been marked and buried, the second stage incancations will be finished by the morn, the third stage three days on the full moon.”

She nodded, under the fat full moon her enemies would feel the bladed teeth of the Fanged God.

<<<<>>>>
Vetala of the Ichor Moon

(https://i.ibb.co/qYj6zvd/Dathomirundead.jpg) (https://ibb.co/qYj6zvd)

They moved by night through the dense forest.  The Archers and artillery on the plains north continued to fire when they could but by and large the thick trucks shielded the Coalition from damage, and it seemed they had outrun the Reapers supply lines for setting wild animals loose on them.

Aun-Frost Glade and her Axe-women were in the Vanguad with Peola’s Spears, the freezing runes of her enchanted axes glowing a dim blue beneath the full Ichor Moon overhead.

The position of Dathomirs four moons changed the flow of the magical ichor, making different types of spells more powerful, on this night with the Fanged Gods Green Moon high, and the other three moons beneath the Horizon the time was ripe of Vivification magics which enhanced the body and mind.

In Auns case she used a keening spell to sharpen her sight constantly on the look out for another ambush but so far seeing only the misted breath of her fellow axewomen in the chill air. 

Morale was dropping as the temperature plummeted, the ambushes and raids had been draining, and while no one had yet abandoned the army, the warmth of the victory at Grand Canyon was gone and icy enormity of facing a witch as powerful as Lykana was beginning to bite.

A flickering yellow flash in the trees above barely distinguishable from the stars behind the full moon was a sign from the Spider Clan scouts they saw something.

More silent signals passed and Aun and four warriors threaded lighting slightly north to investigate on the ground.

She crouched by the cold red wilted leaves that shimmered eerily in the Moons light brushing them aside to reveal a metal spike protruding from the ground

“Damn...Malklocs traps…” the heavy traps for the beasts could easily cut off a womans leg at the knee.

Carefully she paces ahead further finding three more, no doubt the outer edge of a field of such snares...fortunately they were too close to the forest edge to be in the path of the main army.

Aun paused, something seemed off about that...if the Repaers had managed to ride ahead to lay traps, why lay them along the tree line east to west instead of north south across the Coalition armies path...unless…

“They’re to trap us inside…” she suddenly said,

“Sigi run back and warn the others they’re trying to ox us inside the malkloc traps, we need to get out of the road they’ve set,”

With a nod the runner sped forward barely two steps before she fell hard to the ground face first with a crunch.

Aun rushed to her aid fearing the runner had stepped on a trap…

A hand bleeding ichor from rotten flesh gripped Sigi’s leg.

<<<<<>>>>>

The power of the Ichor Moon roused the recently reburied from their shallow hiding places all through the Coalition column.

The cloying stink of decay was the first and for many the only warning as the Vetala rose up from the dirt as the army divided into groups by tribe and clan passed over them.

The initial surprise was replaced quickly by disgust and dread as rancid bone hands held together by necrotic magic clawed and grasped with unthinking cold intent to consume the warm living.

Spears thrust through torsos, swords that severed arms at the shoulder were all so much irrelevance to the decayed hordes Lykana had spent considerable effort to have buried in her enemies pathway.

The Ichor moon beat down its revitalizing currents to hold the otherwise loose humanoid forms in check as they grasped and gurgled unearthly guttural sounds from dead rib cages that whistled out the cold night winds.

Aun winced at the hideous sound even as she lay her smaller axes into both shoulders of a shambling creature, cleaving off the arms its hollow eyes still held a green glow until she swept low to take off the knee.

Even as she was hacking into the next still the revenant was trying to get at her crawling with its distended jaw through the dirt.

She could hear the chaos and see the flare light the sky in the column behind her, how they had gotten so deep before spotting anything could only be the work of carefully placed Suppressive Runes along the path...a path that denied anyone escape as the animal traps to the north and south kept them in the corridor where the dead had been planted to drag more victims to join them .

Shouldering another aside her axes sung the glassy cry of their frost enchantment, the dead flesh crackling even blacker with Magick frostbite as she slogged through the middle of a fourth - or was it fifth.

Stomping down on another head trying to lift from the ground she rushed to help a handful of spearwomen slashing with daggers at twice their number of undead, their spears lodged in two or more of the zombies, yet still they fought on.

With a flying leap Aun hacked into the backs of the Vetala, slashing through the middle of their backs to try and split them vertically, the sharpness of the axes and the rotten constitution of the vetala let her cut three down this way, the other Dathomiri following suit cleaving the numbers that had encircled them as blasts from scrolls and runes set some of the Vetala alight.

The spearwomen secured they joined Aun moving back to help the others, momentum building with each dozen of dead they put back into the ground, quickly working out the best ways to ‘disarm’ the senseless creatures.

But even as they began to wrest control of the situation a secondary wave was spreading through the ranks, as they hacked down the dead like rotten trees the thought this might to be their fate is they continued fighting against Lykana was lit.

Indeed the fact Lykana had managed to place and through her Reapers raise so many dead was a potent reminder of her dark powers.

Such doubts tingled at Auns mind even as she cut through with a growing band to Djo’s forces holding the center, Alwyn with her, grisly piles of still twitching limbs about them.

Caked in ancient black blood Aun ran low and raised her axes up high through two more before booting a third to clear a path to join the leaders.

“Is the Vanguard secure?” Alwyn quickly asked
“Peola’s taken charge,” Aun replied her small axes blunted from so many bones, however rotten, she spun behind the Whistling caverns chieftain for cover to swap to her two handed Frost-Eater, rushing back out to cleave two Vetala in one sweep.

“Where are Karintha’s People?” Aun asked, suddenly aware of their absence,

“No idea...they were mostly in the rear guard, might have been caught there…” Alwyn grunted

“Or fled... “ Djo said snidely, her ceremonial spear pirouetting through two necks long drained of blood.

Alwyn ignored the jibe quickly taking stock, so far it seemed no more Vetala were getting to them, the undead number diminishing ever more quickly, yet she had to concede their absence was odd.

“Aun see if you can reach them find out what's going on,” Alwyn added the red haired northerner quickly ripping a path out and into the open, her housecarls covering her from all sides

She passed Haldan and his northmen with the Offowrlder Jo slashing through undead Nyak’s, hurling some into the very animal traps the Reapers had intended for the  Coalition, then past Yzzerhera’s warriors who had assembled most of the rear of the column and were now moving forward, the Vetala’s smoking ruins blasted by spell and electro-shot.

Still no sign of Karintha’s people she headed further back.

Here the light from the flares was gone, only the Ichor moon lit the forest with a green tinge, and the Forest eerily silent till she heard voices ahead.. 

“...caught up to them over the ridge line…” Jenaea sniffed wiping a spot of blood from her nose, she threw the Reaper Mage to the ground.

The Women of the People were surrounded by masses of twice dead Vetala, the petty shambling things barely an inconvenience to their demi-god strength and speed...but hanging upside down from multiple tree branches were trashing still ‘animated’ Vetala, Yorna,Kassyndra and Adaea motioning deep black Orbs over them as in the center of the copse KArintha stood before a group of six Reaper Jenaea, Lyaea and Evaea had brought in, each carrying two effortlessly over their shoulders.

“Killed the other four, they were just warriors” Jenaea finished as Karintha paced around the captives.  before suddenly stopping.

“Aun why don’t you join us,”

Never afraid, but somewhat uncertain what was going on she approached from the trees.

“As you can see everything here is under control,” Karintha said assuringly before turning back to the Reapers.

“Your necromancy is impressive, far more attuned to large scale and far more advanced decay revival than our own techniques,”  Karintha never failed to give credit where it was due, Aethan necromancy was very much specialised to revving a recently dead individual, a horde of long dead would make for a useful addition to their skill set.

“You’ll tell us how you did it...then how to unbind the spell...the extent to which the Ichor moon’s effect enhances the spell and how it might be replicated…”

“We will tell you nothing!” the Reaper Mage spat from her chapped lips worn from the incantations.   

Karintha offered a sad smile

“I know...but telling you what I want will unconsciously prime your...less advanced mind... to bring that knowledge to the forefront…Ari and Kiraea will do the rest…” she stepped back as the two women came forward, orbs in each hand.  The Reapers began to sweat  despite the frigid air, their eyes rolling back in their head, noses bleeding.

“Ari is very talented,” Karintha explained to Aun who looked shocked
“Her adoptive father is of the Anzati species, they have a particular way of extracting memories, and though he never uses his full potential, she still picked up the instinct of it,”

The casual tone of the conversation was utterly at odds with the obvious mind rending being inflicted on the Reapers, and the twisted Magical experiments on the still trashing Vetala as the aethans tried to both reverse engineer the necromancy and steal the designs directly.

“This will ensure we have wards in place so such an ambush does reoccur.” Karintha added noting Aun’s troubled gaze upon the proceedings.

“It’s a shame the other Witches haven’t been as willing to learn the darker arts,” the fiery northern girl surprised
“They might’ve unseated Lykana long ago if they had understood her powers better,”

“Our thoughts exactly,” Karintha agreed, noting that should Alwyn prove...unreliable...Aun, whose support among the northern tribes was complete might make a more...pliant leader.

It took mere minutes for Aethan cognition to achieve what humans could not in days, Milaea while troubled at the means of extraction was slowly coming round to understanding the ends importance over outsider ‘means’ more than happy to unleash the unbinding spell that turned the remaining Vetala to the husks they were.

By morning light the moon had set, over two dozen Dathomiri had been killed, more traumatized by facing the hideous undead, and Karintha rejoined the camp - brushing away questions explaining they had secured the rear guard while performing an unbinding spell - and sharing a sly smile with Aun across the leaders group.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 23, 2021, 06:34:23 AM
 
Chapter 40 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Jaws of the Fanged God — Part 3
Battle of the Fangs
(https://i.ibb.co/2ny9335/KarY-1.jpg) (https://ibb.co/2ny9335)(https://i.ibb.co/HtrHBRs/Reaper-Lyra.jpg) (https://ibb.co/HtrHBRs)
There they were as promised, more in fact.  80 warriors from six of the great river tribes beneath their banners on the north, and 60 more from the River Mountains to the south.

After the losses on the road here they were a desperately needed re-enforcement.

But in between them, firm on the northern side of the river that flowed west to east into the tall rocky pillars known as the fangs that were the natural border between then Grain lands and mountains, was Lykana’s forces, her Cousin Lyra’s banner held high over 150 warriors, 30 mounted on rancors.

“Traitors,” Aun seethed
“No,” Djo riding her mount beside Alwyn countered
“Lykana just got to them first,”

They had come here on the promise of those clans joining them, needed them after the losses in the forest more than ever.  Now they faced another battle.

Alwyn had the weary force form up on the other side of the river, Karintha offering some unique suggestions on how to re-constitute the grouping of the clans warriors of their now 300 strong force into more flexible units with spears front rank, archers or coven second rank and swords, axe or scimitar third rank in 5 large blocks of 70 warriors.

They had a slight numerical advantage 300 to 290, but on the other side of the river on higher ground, and with fixed artillery assembled and time to prepare wards and spells Lyra held a far stronger position, and coming off the constant ambushes to get here Alwyns force was weary and shaken.

“The Rightful Queen of Dathomir,” Lyra called out voice enhanced by the Arts
“Has expressed her displeasure at this uprising, but offers mercy to all those who are willing to throw down their arms and end this madness,”

They had always known such an offer would come, now they waited for the strings

“You shall be allowed to return to your native lands unmolested, and requires only two hostages to be provided.”

Lyra was the most reasonable of the family, her white and red face paint couldn’t hide the creases of an exhaustive life serving her cousin. A competent if not spectacular commander in the field, she preferred the old style of posturing with numbers over outright battles that Lykana thought had more ‘impact’.

Her own voice enhanced Alwyn replied after consulting with the other leaders.

“Lykana’s authority was never legitimate, and we will no longer be intimidated, if we must fight to regain our independence we will,”

Lyra could only sigh she had her fill of this years ago, she understood what Lykana was trying to do, had been enthusiastic for the unification at first, now after countless marches to intimidate tribes into compliance…

The Reaper Coven Leader on a rancor beside her gave her a fleeting but sharp glance.  Resigned it was all too late Lyra did as she always had and obeyed, if obliquely trying to soften, her sisters orders.

“I will send 30 Champions to the river, send those you deem worthy in no greater number and let it be seen who had the greatest cunning and skill,”

A sense of relief swept over the forces as a trial by champion combat was announced by Lyra, the coalition quickly summoned up their best – spear women, archers, swordswomen and witches – it was essentially to have a proper mix of fighters, but also that all the clans were represented by at least one warrior.

Each champion was called by name and applauded as they walked forward, receiving totems and fetishes to help protect them in the coming battle.
Jo watched the theatre with curiosity until Haldan bellowed out
“For the Rinki’s Glaciers, I Go with Jo Blood Sword!”
The former Mak’tors eyes bulged as Haldan slapped him on the back

“Come let us win glory baldy!”

Jo was equal parts terrified and flattered as the collective pressure of the crowd seemed to whisk his legs into motion such that he barely heard the final pronouncement.

“For the clan of the Three Goddesses I submit myself,” Karintha declared

The other Aethan women quickly entered a thought meld shocked Karintha had not chosen Milaea who was the first to protest

<I have the best chance of incapacitating all the enemy champions, even by brute power,>

Ari, Kassyndra and Sofa sent corroborating ‘nods’

<You also have the greatest ability to repel any attempt to cheat or launch a surprise attack,> Karintha countered as she strode forward confidently twirling her twin shortswords.

<Then send Ari instead,> the unspoken fear anyone else but her Ari and Sofa would show little mercy.

<I will handle this,> Karintha insisted, ensuring any further protest would have to call in question her competency directly.

The champions drew up in straight lines on opposite sides of the stream, the ground all pebble and coarse sand as the thin waters trickled between them.

Jo grasped his saber and steadied his breathing, looking but not really seeing the woman warrior opposite who looked down physically and figuratively at her opponent.

Lyra gestured to Alwyn who nodded in turn.

“Begin!”

The fight was a microcosm of Dathomiri warfare, each side split into groups of ranged, magical and melee fighters, the latter charging across the river to engage while the others sought to flank and support. 

Jo found himself thigh deep in the river, his blade locked against an electro spear, then defending against a VibroScythe as the warrior to his left fell leaving him on the end of the melee line alone.

Karintha had not moved at all, simply remaining in place brushing off the occasional bolt or curse thrown her way.

Ari felt a need to grip Milaea’s hand to stop her from intervening as the battle of champions turned gradually against Alwyn’s force, the Reaper archers with powerful crossbows beginning to take a toll with Alwyns own archers fending off magical attacks.

Jo felt defeat hovering even as he managed to hurl off one attacked and slash a deep gouge in the other's thigh forcing them to scramble back up the river bank to escape.  Lyra breathed a sigh of relief as her champions locked in a winning momentum.  She hardly noticed Karintha staring at her waiting for that very moment.

Far from idle the Aethan would be Matriarch who had been weaving her telekinetic tendrils low and deep through the battle. Now walking forward with poise she tightened her grip.

Twelve of Lyra’s champions stiffened and collapsed as their carotid arteries were simultaneously closed, the sudden loss of blood to the brain ending their thoughts if not their lives.

A single deft leap from the river bank put her behind the main melee, her feet and swords moving even before she landed breaking backs and slicing joints respectively, downing four more.   

On landing she turned to one of the more potent witches and hurled a concentrated bolt of lightning that forced the witch into an eldritch shield even as she downed another of the melee fighters that sought to engage her with almost dismissive ease.

All attention on Karintha, Jo began helping his injured comrades back to the bank, stealing occasional glances at the ceaseless march of the Aethan woman.  The remaining Champions put up good defences, even managing a few hits and curses, but there was simply no way half a dozen humans could stop such a force – Jo knew better than anyone.

Bones were broken, bodies were hurled across the battlefield, magical shields were shattered as Karintha advanced leaving behind shattered champions.

Lyra now looking at her barely noticed her Champions were defeated, Karintha kept walking straight toward her lines as if she intended to take on the whole army herself.

It was an intentional replication of the Varangian, devastating a dozen or more champions and then marching forward with neither fear nor fatigue.  The Allied tribes took careful note, a wave of worry and doubt spreading through them.

“Challenge her!” The Reaper Coven Leader, a thin bitter faced witch Ny’sska hissed at Lyra as Karintha kept on marching forward.

Lyra was many things, but a fanatic and a fool were not among them.  This was one of the Offworlders Lykana had warned about, the same species as the Varangian.

Finally close enough Karintha shouted to the enemy army.

“Your Champions are defeated, we have won the day, now you may treat your wounded and join our march to free Dathomir from the Tyranny of Lykana’s rule.”

She paused to lock eyes with each of the tribal chief on the other side in turn.

“Any who wish to challenge me on behalf of the false Queen…” she spread her arms and lit her short swords with their aetheric flame enchantments

“Step forward,”

It seemed a pure ultimatum, join and betray her sister – a massive morale coup – or challenge her in single combat that Lyra was certain to lose – her best fighting days behind her.

There was a third option,

“You have no voice here offworlder!” Lyra replied her hand surreptitiously dipping to a pouch that contained an infernal metal transmitter.

“Your masters have no honour seeking victory with foreign arms!”  Lyra was keenly aware how hollow that argument was given the Varangians own origin on a Gamorrean trader ship full of dead Force sensitive corpses so many years ago.

She chanced a brief glance to the tribal leaders on her side, their countenances hard to read at this distance behind their white and blue war paint.

“I will not lower myself to engage an offworld mercenary,” Lyra sneered for effect
“An Offworlder to kill and Offworlder,”

With a quick press of the small device in her hand, obscured under her grip on the reins of her rancor, Lyra ordered the attack.

Centuri Ran-Goff of the 14th Iridonian Legion wasted no time ordering his Jet-Pack equipped Ventus Equites – Wind Cavalry – into action with one hand signal while his other gave the go for the Vulpes Snipers on the Mountainous ‘Fangs’ overlooking the river battle to open fire.

As always Jenaea was first to sense the added danger some 10 seconds before it occurred in real time.

Ten seconds was all that was needed.

Milaea, Lyaea, Sofa and Adaea ignored completely their own danger sense as eight snipers squeezed the triggers on their XT-9’s, their squeezing hearts the targets Kassyndra, Yorna, Jenaea and Ari in the rear lines unconcerned by the Repeaters the Equites intended to unleash upon them when within range as their jet packs blazed orange.

The Aethan women knew with absolute certainty their males would protect them.

Eight shadowed bolts were spun off course by aetheric-electro distortions 15 metres from their barrels, twenty four Equites stalled as micro dovin basals tethered them to the ground against their jet packs thrust by crunching gravity.

Karintha’s promise the Iridonians would no longer interfere was made manifest in the form of 8 Aethan men leaping onto the high flat rock atop the Fangs where the Iridonians had positioned themselves secretly days before, followed by two dozen Yuzzhan Vong - amphistaffs hissing with delight as they bellowed oaths to the Avatar of Yun-Yammka of the enemies they would slay.

48 Iridonians met the force with vibro blades, repeaters, deployable shields, disruptor grenades and thermal-pistols, the reply was MASER based Hades rifles, Oblivion Swords and Naginatas, Amphistaffs, Thud bugs and telekinetic hammers.

On the field, Karintha simply smiled as, so far as the Dathomiri knew, absolutely nothing happened.

Lyra pressed the button again and again, and still there was no sniper fire cutting her challenger down, not jet-pack troopers unleashing fire on the offworlders among Alwyn’s ranks. 

The buzzer on Centuri Ran-Goffs helm was ignored as he found himself locked in frenetic combat with Lydan whose naginata came closer with each sweep to severing his head.

The tops of the Fangs turned into a freakish show of blaster bolts, explosions, blood and death completely ignored by the Dathomiri focused solely on tension between the unknown warrior and the sister of the Queen.

“I will do it if you will not!” Ny’sska hissed tightening her reins to have her Rancor take flight.

“I Ny’sska Venom-Eye Loyal and Favoured of the Queen will vanquish this challenge to her Serene highness!” her raspy voice bellowed enhanced by the Ichor. 

“That ain’t good…” Jo said supporting injured warriors on each arm as the Ranor landed two meters from Karintha throwing up pebble strewn sand into her face. 

“You will entrust our victory to this offworlder,” Djo snapped at Alwyn
“I don’t think I have a choice anymore,” she replied, glancing every few seconds to the top of the Fang where…whatever was occurring up there was becoming quieter.

They had to respect the Rite of Single combat, even if one challenger was not mounted.

Ny’sska ran her sharp finger nail down her leather cuirass slicing open the string that bound it to reveal her heavily tattooed naked breast as her mouth recited the new chants Lykana had taught that would give her and her mount incredible strength.  The Rancor roared spittle at the statue like Karintha as its eyes began to glow green and pulse in time with Ny’sska’s – finally all but undressed her skin drew in the energies upon the wind with no barrier.

Karintha’s eyes merely narrowed as the Rancor slashed.

There were ancient tales of the first Rancor riders, of great hunters and Heroes who had faced a Rancor, even Gorgara on foot and won, but few believed them to be more than just stories until the coming of the Varangian.  He had defeated mounted warriors with his strength and sheer bloody resilience combined with Lykana’s enchantments.

Now Karintha was performing just as well.  She moved like a shadow between the swift thrusts and vicious snaps of the creatures fangs, Ny’sska raining down her own powerful blasts of magicka and attempting to catch Karintha in an ichor cage to limit her movements.

Genetically perfected speed and dexterity kept the Aethan woman just ahead of the beast, who no matter the time bending enchantments could not fully compensate for its lumbering figure.  The hide however was twice as hard with the green glow of Lykana’s latest enchantments, Karintha’s glancing slashes with her swords barely causing scratches let along the muscle damage she needed.

Frustration began to rise in Ny’sska whose mouth never stopped chattering horrific words of malefic power, Karintha had by now learned enough of the Dathomiri magicks to protect herself from such – if only just.  Annoyance went both ways as Karintha found herself unable to get under the beast long enough to plunge into the more vulnerable belly, or behind to try and get at the rider.

A slight slip of the pebbled ground wrong footed Karintha enough to be struck by the back hand of the beast, even accounting for her 280 kilogram weight the blow staggered her and was exploited immediately by a slap from the other, the aethan only narrowly avoiding the nails.

Buffeted about Karintha struggled to stand as she rolled and crawled to avoid being stomped or splatted further, finally on her back she rolled under one grasping claw Both swords straight up using the downward momentum to plunge them into the beasts palm.

Ichor glowing infusion made the beast senseless to the pain as it drew its hand back and tried with the other as Karintha telekinetically dragged he blades down the arm opening up the muscles and trailing up the arm until finally noticing Ny’sska diverted her attention to pluck the blades out, streams of black blood following them from the now useless arm.

Rolling under Karintah hammered her fists into its legs knowing I would do little than stagger the beast, all she needed to come out behind it and summon her baldes back with a leap onto the creatures lower back – she used her swords like climbing picks to begin to ascend and deal more krequito bites to the monster.

The responses was furious the creature clawing at her as the Reaper spun and stabbed down with her spear, her naked bodies tattoo’s glowing ever brighter, Karintha used her legs to launch herself up, a green blast striking her in the legs causing her fall to miss, but her blades still tore into the leathery wings, rapidly reducing the creatures mobility.

Diving under the furious sweeps and blinding curse blasts KAritnha hurled her own powers in a furious torrent of aetheric fire into the beasts briefly exposed stomach, the sheer heat boiling the leathery hide to popping dripping fluid and cooking the organs beneath.

The Rancor began to stagger, its Ichor shield flickering as loss of function exceeded the endurance of the magick.

With a venomous hiss Ny’sska leapt off the back of the dying beast tendrils of energy from her breast piercing the creature’s body and turning its raw dying matter into pure energy to fuel her body even more strongly.

Karintha never doubted her ability to succeed even as the Night sister leered and glowed with consumed powers that flared in the senses of even those with the least attenuation to the force.

The Rancors body decayed at a rate of a decade per second as the Reaper took Lykana’s Life drain power to its most extreme excess her jaw distending with each of the words she recited preparing to unleash a curse that the bards would scare children with for centuries to come.

It would’ve been impressive Karintha had to admit, if only she had not possessed the one ability for which the Dathomiri had not analogue from what she had learned over the last few months.

Inverting the natural course of the aethers flow Karintha shielded herself in a Null field as the curse hammered down upon her, the sudden absence shocking the Night Sister for a brief moment before Aethan reflexes put Karintha’s hand around her throat.

With strength four times that of an athletic human Karintha crushed the throat with one hand while driving her fist into the breast with the other – all the kinetic and eldritch shields rendered obsolete by the aether repellent field that hovered barely a cells width around Karintha’s body.

Despite the crushing physical damage Ny’sska did not died instantly, the power she had guzzled from the Rancor and through her magic to destroy now kept her writhing in artificial agony for minutes in a wrecked body as Karintha sweated and huffed at the exertion of pushing the aether away from her across four dimensions.

Karintha broke first giving up her null field, staggering even as she kept holding the Night Sisters corpse aloft. 

Ny’sska still had some four minutes of life energy in her chaining her soul to the cadaver – but with her spine and throat ruined no ability to weave any spells.

Both armies stood as silent, revolted, sentinels to the lingering death caused by the noxious combination of magick and anti-magick.

The winds direction obvious Lyra sagged in her saddle, the few Reapers she had with her began discarding the more overt signs of their allegiance as Karintha stood tall and victorious.

Alwyn wondered if she was trading one Queen for another.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on July 23, 2021, 06:35:39 AM
Chapter 40 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Jaws of the Fanged God — Part 4
Lykana
Her displeasure could not be measured.

It erupted after long, silent minutes as a shattering of powered crystals and the spontaneous combustion of a number of tapestries.

Not only had her sister turned, but her mercenaries had been killed to a man, Ima Kun unusually reticent regarding the battle, he was ‘analysing combat data recovered’.

Scouts had the Rebel force numbering over 500 marching straight to Rancors tooth.  At best she could trust 40 or so mounted Reapers to make hit run attacks on their flanks.

She would have to confront this directly, have the Varangian slaughter their offworld interlopers, and give Ima Kun more free reign to deal with them.

Stiridng through the halls of the fortress she observed the preparations under way, dozens of newly made runes to empower her most loyal warriors – yes her Reaper had lost with the same magick at the Fangs, but she knew null abilities could not be sustained for more than a few minutes. 

Reaching the end of the hall she looked out on her encampment, 700 warriors in all now, many mounted and backed by the best artillery on the planet.

She could still win this war she thought as she felt a tooth loosen in her mouth, the degradation already re-commencing.

She had to.

<<<<>>>>

“You look like hell,” was Sofa’s blunt assessment of her husband as they met outside the main camp two nights after the battle.

The Iridonians had been prevented from intervening, but they were a well equipped and experienced force and had took a longer time than expected to ‘quell’, evidence of which was written in the carbon scored armour, limps and bruised sore bodies of the Aethan men, to say nothing of the Extolled…although the Yuuzhan Vong Warriors gloried in the pain they endured in their victory fighting beside the Avatars of the Gods.

“It looks worse than it is,” was his reply, an eye constantly on Maekal who was tinkering with a captured Legion suit of armour, convincing him of the more material reality of the galaxy difficult on a planet where witches were endemic.

“Everything here is worse than it looks,” Sofa huffed as the other women broke into small groups with different men to talk. With an exaggerated sigh she leant on his chest.

“I’m sure you caught up on Karintha’s one-woman army moment,”

He nodded, aura pensive

“She seems to be conducting this whole war…and everyone in it…and you’re fine with that,”

It didn’t take him long to respond

“It…is her rightful place as Taran’s wife to lead the effort to recover him,”

“And the rest?” he knew what she was talking about

“That is for the women of the People to decide upon or simply accept…is it true Mack is here?” he redirected

“Leave him be, Milaea is keeping an eye on him and will make sure he doesn’t talk when we leave….” she trailed her hand down his face, smears of dark alien blood and soot wiping away

“...come on let's get you cleaned up under the waterfalls...see if there isn’t a quiet cave behind them.

They passed a Dathomiri coming from just such a brief wash headed toward her own ‘companion’.

“You did well today Gray,”

Jo smiled as he turned despite himself…a smile that dropped when he saw it wasn’t Alwyn who had walked up behind him.

He gazed down.

“Mistress…” he addressed Jeisena.

“hmmm….” With a sultry walk and trailing hand over his shoulders she sat beside him on the log about the camp fire.

“My sister informs me you fought well enough to be considered a champion by the northmen, it seems I did pick my mate well…Ulwyn is safe in the Caverns,” she added the last knowing it would be what he would ask, her daughter's safety ever foremost in her mind.

She ran her fingers through his unwashed hair, the heady scent of sweat and blood still upon him.  Jo was still in response.

“You deserve a reward for your efforts,”

He stood stone as her hands started to creep about his clothes.

“What is wrong with you gray, I came all this way, are you so stupid you can’t take a hint!”

“Stop calling me that,” he breathed
“What?”
“Stupid, imbecile, fool,” his heart was racing with the excitement of the transgression
“I know that is not how you have to treat me so why the hell do you,”
She tensed to stand up
“You dare…”
“Yes I dare!” he shouted back

“I know it’s a shavit storming war, but I actually felt free for the first time in years these last few weeks and I’m not going back to being your pet Chitlik, jumping into bed with you whenever you decide you want some attention,”

“Well you won’t have to worry about that for some time…” she seethed
“I might forget this ever happened if you apologize now…”

His eyes widened with his mouth
“Apolo…me apologize to you, are you completely Chirodactyl dren crazy! I’m not apologizing and I won’t let you forget the day I finally stood up for myself, I’m not a lackey like the other men of this planet and I won’t be treated like one, I’m Jo’Set’Mack, a frelling Knight of the Mak’tor and I deserve and demand respect,”

“Will you two quiet down!” Alwyn intervened “Like children,”

“What are you doing here!” Jeisena snapped
“I came to speak to Jo, see how he was after the fight,”
“Oh,” Jeisena replied incredulous hands on her hips leaning into her sister
“’Jo’ is it…is this why you have been thinking above your station fool?”
“Don’t call him that Jesi,” Alwyn countered
“He’s a good provider and a great warrior you should be thankful to have such a mate,”

Jeisena raised an eyebrow
“Or should I be thankful you haven’t taken him from me yet?”
“If he wants to come to me he would be welcomed…” Alwyn said firmly matching her sister’s posture
“With open legs,” Jeisena sneered

“…but for whatever incomprehensible reason,” Alwyn ignored the jibe however accurate

“He remains loyal to you, and if I were you, sister, I wouldn’t take that for granted…Good night sister, Jo…” Alwyn left with a nod before she lost her patience completely.

“So is that it Gray you prefer my sister?” She poked her finger into his chest, Jo remaining unusually silent after his outburst
“Well go have her then for all I care, I’m done with you,” she spun round arms crossed.

Maker knew he was tempted, Alwyn was beautiful, intelligent, and most of all kind. He had never chosen Jeisena, begrudgingly accepted life with her as a punishment. 

A future of his choice, however undeserved, was just one step away..

“You don’t really mean that,” he finally whispered.

Her back to him hid her countenance but could not hide the mix of jealousy and guilt bleeding  in the Force around her.

“Don’t I?” she sniffed poorly, hiding her tear choked voice.

“You wouldn’t want to lose the one person you can rely upon in this galaxy,” he replied

“Rely...because you’re obliged to be with me, not because you want to,” she replied quietly,

“Maybe, at the start,” He said honestly
“But I do love you now Jeisena,  I should’ve said it sooner...it wasn’t just Ulwyn anymore, it’s you too…when you’re kind, affectionate...but you make it so god-damned hard.”

Jo moved closer behind her, finally understanding in between all the cultural differences, and mistrust the core of his discomfort.

“You knew that...you didn’t have to threaten me with losing it to get me to stay…”

Slowly he turned her around, seeing Jeisena perhaps more truly than ever before, in all her insecurity, the young witch sent into a strange galaxy where her status among a tiny tribe of matriarchal witches was irrelevant, where only being as harsh as she could would enable her to survive…

...and in desperate isolation taking the first opportunity to make a friend by becoming pregnant, only to find herself then reliant upon Jo, a man she did not know, the final insult to what shreds of her cultural pride remained, twisted into emotional blackmail to keep him from leaving. 

“I don’t know how else to keep you,” she whispered, lowering her head on his chest.

Nothing could be resolved in the here and now while the stood on the precipice of a global war, but for the first time in all the years they had been together, as Jo wrapped his arms around her,  they were truly honest.

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/tHvvZ18/Alwyn.jpg) (https://ibb.co/tHvvZ18)

Alwyn’s mood was less sour than disappointed as she headed through the camp, she didn’t begrudge her sister having a mate...but why did it have to be one she was so strongly attracted to…

Though it wasn’t unknown for sisters to share an especially virile male….

The kerfuffle up ahead broke her ruminations.

“...traded fairly and squarely,” Kiraea insisted using her height to lean over the shorter Placid Lake Clan Warrior.

Kiraea, Adaea and Lyaea stood on one side, Placid Lake and Singing Mountain Clan women on the other.

“She didn’t have authority to allow you access, and you misinterpreted what you wanted,” Complained the Placid Lakes woman.

“What is the matter?” Alwyn demanded

“Finally,” Kiraea huffed
“We traded a few batteries in exchange for taking a copy of some books, now they want to renege on the deal,”

This was the last thing Alwyn needed.

“Books yes not our Clan Chronicle and Tome of Arts,”

“Isn’t a book just a book?” Adaea said naively as possible

Alwyn was well aware throughout their march the Aethans had been trading batteries and other offworld trinkets for copies of sacred text, spell scrolls and numerous enchanted objects. 

At first she thought it simply part of what they had stated from the start, a desire for trade, now it seemed more like they were...cataloguing everything about the Dathomiri and their magick.

“A problem Chief,” Djo interrupted, her long face and tall frame accentuated by her domineering attitude.

“No… just… let’s go back to the beginning, who did you trade with?”

“Merlit,” Adaea pointed out a young woman with only three black marks under her left eye, perhaps 19 or 20, certainly without permission to offer a copy of the Clan Chronicle or Tome of Arts,important tribal documents a copy of which often travelled with the Chief in a special chest.

“Did she actually hand you the book when you made the trade?” Alwyn asked

“Well no, we had to go into the tent to get it…” Adaea said sheepishly

“You went into the chief's tent and took them?”

“We didn’t take them, we just flicked through the pages and recorded them,” Lyaea smiled throwing a deep black ball of some kind up in the air then catching it so quickly Alwyn could barely see anything but a dark streak.

“You intruded where your feet were not to tread and transcribed what is not for your eyes to see,” - the voice this time was the inimitable commanding tone of Chief Djo already suspicious of the offworlders this would only worsen things.

“What is your true intention, what exactly do you want here offworlder?” Djo asked moving into the conversation, the only woman taller than the tall Aethan women, albeit far thinner.

“Anything we can get,” Kiraea smiled back

“Your insolence is not endearing,” Djo countered quickly

“And your resistance is futile,”

“Cease this squabbling!” Alwyn sighed, putting her hands up and slowly lowering them to draw the energy of the situation down.
“We’re all on the same side,”
Djo raised an eyebrow of incredulity.
“This sounds like a Misunderstanding….perhaps if you just...remove whatever copy you made,”

“Fine it’s not on this recording device,” Lyaea said never stopping her irritating catch and throw game

“You’ve done nothing!” Djo complained

“Prove I haven’t,” Lyaea tossed the black ball to Djo who staggered down as she caught the ultradense orb.

As she felt the hungry pull of the orb on her mind she immediately released it.

“We...have no way to verify you have removed it from this..thing…”

Alwyn was sharp enough to know the word games being played here, Lyaea had said it was not on this recording device, hurling it at Djo simply moved the conversation and point of attention too fast for anyone to pick up on the semantic game that it was probably recorded on another such device to begin with.

“You can trust us, after all Karintha just won the last battle for you,” Lyaea quickly glanced to Alwyn and winked, she knew Alwyn knew there was nothing she could say without inflaming the situation more.

Djo bristled at being outwitted by what to her appeared a mere girl, their exact age was never clear.

“Alwyn, I would speak with you privately in my tent…”

Once satisfied the disagreement was over, somewhat sickeningly smoothed with the Placid Lake clan by offering Republic Confectionery bars, Alwyn joined Djo in her tent.

“Who are these...Things do you even know what they truly want,” The Tall woman demanded.

“No,” Alwyn had to admit
“But they saved my Clan from the Varangian, were instrumental in gathering allies and we have a common cause and similar culture, we can’t win this war with the Varangian against us, with them we have a dozen like him,”

“And at what cost, this war is becoming a battleground for offworld armies, I saw what was happening on top of the Fangs, the Mechanical warriors and the Black ones, my scouts have seen creatures that can only be described as horrific trailing our camp in service to these allies of yours,”

She dipped her hand into a small pool and summoned from the Ichor an image of a humanoid creature with no nose, horned armour and slithering weapons, skin pierced and plucked beyond even what Dathomiri would consider reasonable.

The image of the Yuuzhan Vong shocked Alwyn, Djo noticed immediately.

“They didn’t tell you did they,” her tone more soothing

“They are sailing their own agenda down a river of our peoples blood, since my clan has joined my warriors have reported how they trade for every item of value or magick imaginable, trinkets for valuable cultural artefacts as we just saw, have heard how they have advanced rapidly studying with the covens - they master our arts but never share their own - like that irritating girl they obfuscate and dodge every attempt…”

Djo shook her hand clean of the Ichor infused water.

“Worst of all, the warriors, by and large, are in awe of them, their generosity in handing out ‘candies’, protecting them from the nightmare curses, their skill in combat, healing wounds rapidly...But Alwyn we both know they cannot be trusted.”

“I know…” Alwyn admitted

“Everything they do makes us rely on them more, Karintha winning the Battle of the Fangs for us single handedly…” her posture deflated

“We're in the Jaws of the Fanged God, we can’t keep slowly dying under Lykana’s tyranny, and without them it's a quick death at the hand of the Varangian,”

“He could be overpowered, we have the numbers”

“While Lykana is still there to boost him with more Ichor than Yzzerhera can muster?” Alwyn dismissed the costly idea
“Are you willing to join the ranks of the chosen against him, and then watch as Lykana uses necromancy to bring him back, three, four times?”
 
The coupling of Dathomirs greatest warrior and greatest witch was what had kept them enduring Lykana’s rule for so long, much though they hated it, the swiftness of death was too much a deterrent.

“We can use our allies as much as they are using us, they want the Varangian alive, their patience will run out before Lykana’s does, but the pressure is forcing Lykana to show her own offworld dealings. They’ll go after Lykana directly sooner rather than later, we just need to make sure before they do, we have time to unite the majority of tribes.”

Djo twirled a strand of her slightly greying hair, considering the benefits of having these monsters break Lykana and her Reapers.

“You’re colder than you let on Alwyn,”

“I am the chief of my tribe,” Alwyn replied, the one fact that justified her every action.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on August 01, 2021, 09:57:12 PM
First Reeda of the Yuuzhan Vong and now Alwyn, it seems that many allies of the People begin to question the costs of aligning themselves with the Aethans and what it truly entails.  But what does one do when faced with possible outcomes resulting from claims malfeasance of said ally?  So enamored with the idea of fighting and actually winning the war against Lykana and her Varangian has certainly blinded the members of the Coalition from the Aethan's true intent, so much so that they find themselves between the proverbial "rock and a hard place."  Whatever move Alwyn makes now can only be complicated by the fact that she no longer trusts those fighting for her...

Now just where have we seen that before?  ;)

Of course, in the matter of each side's one-upmanship, both have deviated from their accepted cultural rules, Lykana surprisingly forward-thinking despite her despotism, proving that those with power will strive to remain so.  And now that her new allies have helped to rid her of Lykana's yoke, Alwyn sees the benefits in doing away with such outdated concepts (at least, as they see them).  There lies the double-edged sword of the alliance, one in which Alwyn must finally admit to herself: without Outsider's help, they must endure the crushing tyranny of Lykana yet, with Karintha acting as her Champion, Alwyn has given the People virtual carte blanch (permission or no) to abscond with ALL of the collective knowledge of Dathomir.  It's too bad that they did not listen more closely to Djo...

Another enjoyable vignette: Jo'Set and Jeisena's verbal sparring.  Without a satisfactory resolution, I hope that those two can find some common ground (of course, their antagonism makes for fantastic reading^^).

And to think that neither Lykana nor the Varangian have yet to show themselves on the final battlefield... I think that once they do, BOTH sides will find themselves surprised by the results...

And it will hurt.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 05, 2021, 11:55:16 PM
Chapter 41 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Ichor, Song and Aether — Part 1
Battle of Rancors Tooth
(https://i.ibb.co/YXDgmq2/Witches-Jo.png)
They marched over the rise accompanied by the sun.  Formed into small groups of forty or so warriors, rancors and other mounts spaced evenly on the flanks the Coalition army looked worn, but determined.

Horns spat out their droning call to awaken the army encamped around Rancor’s Tooth.

They formed in prearranged lines, runners and male servants hurriedly rushing pots of chunky stew as a breakfast even as they stood in rank.

On her far right flank the Legion Mercenaries were already primed for action to redeem themselves

To the left, the southern side, the dirt was still upturned from more...exotic undertakings by the Reapers encamped there.

The Coalition army marched on undaunted stopping just outside of arrow range.

All this Lykana watched from her Gorgara mount.

The vast beast native to the rocky red haze southern continent where ancient Kwa and Zeffo ruins were dug deep in the canyons had been ‘tamed’ after a fashion.  Larger than most rancor what it lacked in claws and brute strength it made up for in maneuverability and speed.

The Sun was in the eyes of her assembled army as the would-be Traitor Queen flew her Rancor to the middle of the no-man’s land.

This was the one day that truly mattered, if Alwyn lost the tribes of Dathomir would be consigned to Lykana and her successors black fisted rule for a very long time.  The alternative, the loose confederation of Tribes meeting every few years for games and councils, and yes fighting and bickering between themselves, was not perfect, but still better.

Lykana squeezed her reins and flew to meet her.

“Alwyn…” she leered, voice normal and unheard by the masses the Gorgara remaining airborne while the Rancor heavily landed.

“I should’ve cut you down long ago...to think you would betray the People of Dathomir with offworlders, and for what? You can never rule the mob of bitches that are the chiefs any better than I could,”

“I don’t intend to rule them, just free them,”

“To be disunited and chaotic, you’ve seen the offworlders power, a true invasion could pick the tribes off one by one in days, what of your freedom then?”

Alwyn could not disagree that the threat of external invasion was constant, and Dathomir had no centralized defences, but the witches of Dathomir had one consolation.

“At least we will have freedom,” she replied “To live, and die if the Gods will, according to our Law and choice,”

Lykana just shook her head sadly at the naivety,
“When the offworlders come one day...I doubt that thought will console you,”

She drew her Gorgara high and projected her voice

“Alwyn Hri of the Whistling Caverns, you and all who follow you have broken the peace of the Clans, used offworld arms in your disputes, betra…”

“As have you,” Alwyn gestured to the Iridonians

“Only in response to your own transgression…But I abide by the Laws of Blessed Allya - the True laws that is - I Call, for the United Women of Dathomir, my chattel, the Varangian to stand as Champion! May two fight...and one die...to spare thousands.”

She pointed at Alwyn directly

“Will you - and your allied chiefs -  submit to abide by the Trial of Champions, to forsake your rebellion and submit to my judgement should my champion prevail?”

“I will, if you agree to forsake your throne and submit to the Judgement of the Council of Matriarchs if mine prevails,”

Both were staking everything, neither had a choice.

With a nod and slash of their knives across their palms, uttering oaths of binding upon their blood the agreement was made.

As Lykana flew back to her army Alwyn spoke.

“For all the Free Women of Dathomir, I call…”
Alwyn paused to breathe deeply before naming the Champion - Her Champion

The one person in her army she trusted and knew in her heart could defeat the Varangian.

Karintha’s face held a victorious smile knowing she, Yorna, Ari or Milaea would be chosen, the strongest of the Aethan women, no matter which it would solidify Aethan glory and prowess in the minds of the Dathomiri for generations, and render her strategy and position as Matriarch of the People unassailable.

That smile snapped to a frown the moment Alwyn spoke again.

“Jo’Set’Mack, mate of Jeisena Hri,”

His face drained of blood, Haldan’s raucous laughter a distant echo even though right beside his ear.

Jo could not believe what he had heard, did not wish to believe it…and yet by some automata like compulsion stepped forward as the malefic statue of the Varangian stood before him in the grassy no man’s land.

How could he possibly win! He had been beaten near to death by Valens three times, and the Varangian was not only Aethan but bleeding Lykana’s Ichor enhancements!

Karintha kept her expression unchanged even as she smouldered at the affront.

Alwyn knew her allies would not be pleased, but this was the Dathomiri’s war - not theirs, as instrumental as they had been. 

At this critical moment it needed to be a fight between equals, man against man, chattel against chattel, and offwordler against offworlder, only Jo fulfilled all those requirements on her side.

A breeze picked up as Jo advanced alone into the Jaws of the Fanged God.

The jagged fortress up ahead craggy brown thrust from green hills into a clear blue sky like an oil landscape, the serenity at odds with the impending violence.

Before him the Varangian stood stone still, empty eyes glowing green behind the ssaurian helm as his silver and ichor laced sword heavier than Jo himself sat listlessly in his hand.

Jo’s breathing became a rhythm, the first few bars of the battle song he would channel through the Force as it wove across and into his body.  He was no singer, but he could at least tune himself as Odjina had instructed, and pray to the Maker he had long forsaken for the strength to survive.

Not for me…for Jeisena, for Ulwyn, for Alwyn…

In a moment of silence he lit his saber, the blade near white in the midday sun as he took a strong defensive stance, right leg forward, left back digging into the soil.  The Varangain simply stepped forward with indifference.

Then it began.

Like a hurricane the Varangian swung his blade with a single hand the other fingers splayed open snaked out ichor tendrils to ensnare Jo’s boy in telekinetic vices or penetrate his skin to consume his organs with green magick acids.

All Jo could do was avoid the blade by retreating backwards, knocking back the hissing snake like magics with his saber.

With every step backward he had flashbacks of his fights against Valens, the indignity of being manhandled, dismissively smacked around.

Catching up the distance between them Jo’s saber spun to block the first full weight blow, hundreds of kilograms of force bore down on his now trembling knees and pained spine, the Force the one thing that kept him upright as his battle tune skipped beats s his teeth gritted out groans rather than chords.

Alwyn worried she had sent a good man to his death as the Gray Jedi barely survived blow after blow from the death machine that had slain dozens of witches and warriors.  Jo could never match the Varangian in Physical or Magickal strength or even skill.

<He’ll be crushed> Lyaea mused as Jo began to waver, his legs visibly shaking, arms wobbly from the ricochet of the impact of a being empowered with six times his physical strength. She glanced to Milaea beside for confirmation but the red haired woman simply stared intently at the clash, again seeing more than anyone else could, expecting Lykana herself.

The Dread Queen willed her champion to finish the insolent offworlder she recognised all too well from months before. Normally she would subtly add a malacia thorn into the opponent, but the offworld bitches and Yzzerhera were a class above the Dathomiri and would sense the intervention

While no master warrior, she knew enough to understand Jo’s survival this long owed mostly to the unique fighting style and energy weapon he wielded, a Light-sword she recalled, neither of which the Varangian had encountered before and was testing to see the limits of.

Limits Jo felt he had already exceeded, each dodge was getting less effective, the Varangian was learning his style and adapting faster than Jo could pull out new tricks.

His body and skill were at their limits and he hadn’t made one counter attack…Alwyn had made a big mistake he realised, whatever she thought he was she was dead wro…

Trust the Singer

The whisper on the wind reminded Jo everything had purpose, meaning, even if he couldn’t understand the intricacies of the galactic Song he could know for sure it was being sung with intent…

He had intent, purpose here, all his many failures and mistakes brought him here, to protect the family he had never expected, often lamented...yet would never be without.

His eyes lit with renewed conviction as he stared into his opponents empty glassy gaze.

Ruthless as every blow was, deadly as every thrust that cut into Jo’s skin and tore off more of his by now shredded outfit could have been, it all lacked soul, Truth.  It fought because it was told to.

Jo knew from bitter experience you cannot win with borrowed power, and all the Varangians power was borrowed by Lykana from an enslaved Aetherian.

His battlesong strengthened with each note, purpose, love, deadened the fatigue and kept his body moving when it should’ve collapsed, it knit the bones that the shockwaves of the Varangians blows should’ve cracked.

Jo fought for something against a borrowed soulless nothing.

A fatal swing to his throat as the ichor serpents ran along the ground then toward Jo’s legs the Mak’Tor knight finally returned to himself.

The scales fell with Jo’s knees as he went under the decapitating blow, red saber slicing the immaterial heads from the snakes then rising up to cut a cold heated gouge though the chain mail loin cloth and leather belt, causing the innumerable enchanted skulls attached to fall to the ground. 

Before it could go further up the body the Varangian darted backward, a gasp emanating from both armies to see a retreat of any kind.

It was the first of many as the Song poured from within.  Jo went on the offensive, purpose and clarity of Knight guiding his hands for the first time since the black day he had heard of Ho’Li’s murder.

The Varangian blocked and twisted, sent more vile phantasms to attack, all were caught in the crimson tide of Jo’s effortless Ataru form, stances and motions he had not used for half a decade awakened from deep muscle memory.

A crease formed down Lykana’s left cheek as her visage twisted in irritated realisation. 

The sleeper had awakened - A Knight of the Gray, the Song as his Ally bore down on her mindless thrall whose empty obedience now became a liability as it’s raw unfeeling power could no longer overcome the passion that opposed it.

It was still gruelling, for every advance Jo made the Varangian parried and struck back.  But the hill was climbed and gravity was now on Jo’s side.

Pieces of armour were flung off, saber burning the hyper-keratin aetherian skin beneath.  Leathers were sliced and blood drawn on the Knight.

Skill and strength disparities were less important than Will as Jo struck again and again, his body moving through and with the Song of Battle – he was no longer thinking Just Being that conduit of the Makers Will – Trusting the Singer.

Jo was barely aware when the Varangian was on the defensive, his armour half shattered, totems and rune hissing on the grass.

The enormous warrior struck back with empty fury, Jo stook the blade and twisted it round in a flourish, causing the creatures grip to loosen, then with a rapid shift in motion Jo felt as twist in his shoulder, turned back into a blow that smashed down to knock the Blade from the Varangians hand.

Astonishment turned to horror and glee as he followed through with a spin then upward cut straight through the breast plate and the lower half of the Varangian’s helm skimming the skin beneath.

Still in the synchronized flow Jo’s body and blade slashed through more of the armour, beginning to take divots from the skin and ultra-dense muscles.

The creature bellowed and charged with fist and teeth, Jo sidestepped and slammed his pommel into the back of the head, the Varangian stumbling to the ground.

Fluid he moved straight through to drive the blade into the exposed back.

Glimmering green chains bound his hands.

Shock that the Varangian had lost was replaced by astonishment that Lykana, upon her Gorgara had intervened to save him.

The Queen of Dathomir knew her reign was over, her power lost.  But there was still one last task for which she needed her servant alive.

A wave of realisation spread across her vassals, their grips loosened and posture slacked - none of them would fight for her any longer.  Even her Reapers wavered.

Heart pounding she gripped the reigns of the Gorgara, it shrieked as she pulled it to fly, an arrow green with enchantment struck shallow on its thick hide.

It had not been fired from any bow among the coalition, but from somewhere among Lykana’s own ‘vassals’.

Defeat emboldened her unwilling thralls to break free, and with the threshold crossed others joined.

Quick brutal chaos broke out in Lykana’s army as they turned on her and the Reapers seeking revenge for years of hard tribute and cowering obedience.

Rancors took to flight after Lykana as the Coalition watched astounded at the sudden turn, Lykana herself having to fend off the flying beasts of chieftains and clan mothers.  Her Gorgara was soon surrounded in shimmering ichor shields as she found herself under very serious threat. 

It was a trivial thing for Lykana to destroy a rancor with her magics, but when seven of them and dozens of archers were gunning for her. 

No other choice Lykana activated her contingencies.

A string of hideous words on her lips as she tried to weave her mount away activated pre-energised ichor circles on the southern flank, etched into the bodies of dozens of rancors the Reapers had buried underneath the loamy ground.

With a burst of dirt and dripping green from rotten unhealable wounds that bound massive bones into shambling skeletal weapons of mindless violence her necromantic army of Rancors clawed to slay any not bearing Lykana’s enchanted sigil upon their body.

From her robes Lykana pulled the tiny metal device etched with the 14th Legions symbol and pressed the button.

Barely had her thumb left the red button than the first Plasma salvo’s were fired from their encampment on the north, the white hot volley turning the ground into glass and a full 40 women unit of Alwyn’s force into carbon, turning to ash any vague chance Lykana still had of retaining her influence.

Incensed at their loss of nearly 200 and one of four Command Carriers the 14th Legion were now off the leash, baying for battle the way they fought it.

Whatever the witches' powers and initial numerical superiority, between the revenant rancors and a technologically advanced Iridonian Legion force they would have been decimated in pyrrhic victory that left the tribes shattered and underpopulated for decades.   

By Will of Gods or accident of Fate the Dathomiri were blessed and cursed to be allied to one of the few forces in the galaxy that could counter both threats.

“Purge them,” Karintha ordered her People.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 06, 2021, 12:00:42 AM
Chapter 41 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Ichor, Song and Aether — Part 2
Battle of Rancors Tooth

Left fist clenching into a whorl of red energy, Milaea’s right swept up a crimson wind that sprang the Aethans bodily into the air closing the distance between them and the enemies on the Dathomiri’s flanks in mere seconds.  She released the left to unleash a comet shower of blasts that disintegrated half of the Legions mobile artillery in less than two seconds, their shields irrelevant to the pure Aether power.

Milaea flew up casting a protective shield around Alwyn’s army, the covens and most impressively Yzzerhera channeling their magicks to her to strengthen it three fold, at the same moment half the Aethans landed in the midst of the Legion, the other half between the Rancor’s and Lykana’s former allies, who were still engaged in a vicious close combat with the Reapers.

The second wave of artillery fire smashed indolently against the shield over Alwyn’s force the bright glare of it dotting Jo’s eyes as he staggered in the no man’s land between armies. He felt the pounding of a rotting but walking rancor crying tears of ichor run toward him followed by six more.

Body aching from over use of the Force he took a defensive stance knowing it would not be enough to save him from the dried but sharp claw falling to….

...the ground beside him with a dusty thud, the beast roared a sickeningly hollow imitation of its living cries from an empty ribcage knocking Jo off his feet as boots landed beside him.
 
A solid block of adamantium in the form of flesh grasped his hand and tugged him back up.

“Get up Mack,” Valens said, shoving Jo’s saber back into his chest, Valens Blackstone blade dripping with rotten viscera from the rancors severed arm.  

Face to face with the man who had murdered his sister and mentor – but after so many years and so many miles Jo could think of only one thing to say.
“Frell,”

Valens sneered and returned to his work.

The Aethans could not win the entire battle for the Dathomiri but they could buy them the time needed to reposition and prepare.

While Lykana struggled to break from the other clan leaders, her mounted reapers now assisting, and the mindless Varangian hobbled back toward his mistress.

Under the shield of Milaea and the Witches Alwyn double timed her forces to join with what had been Lykana’s army.

On the Flanks the Dead Rancors were held up by Jarys and Valens, the brothers tagging in and out, lifting and throwing each other to slice off limbs and heads as quickly as they could while Ari, Adaea and Kassyndra worked on not destroying the creatures outright but unbinding the spells that had resurrected them, Jeanea and Lyaea provided cover and arrow fire to draw the beasts toward the brothers..

In the midst of the Legion the Aethans created a three ring defensive perimeter after landing from Milaea’s assisted vault.

Melron, Evyn, Maekal, Lydan and Taryn stood on the other edge Rifles in one hand sword in the other taking a merciless toll with each shot and keeping any attempts to engage them in melee at bay. the second ring of Evaea, Sofa, Yorna, Selaena and Karintha switched between firing telekinetically guided teleporting arrows and Hades rifles, and in the dead center on a mound made of fou legion bodies and a ruined hovering gun platform Maeson stood with his Hades Repeater boring Maser energised phirk projectiles into their heavy armour and artillery.

A flick of the wrist and Karintha summoned in four transports of the Extolled contingency she had, the vessel cloaks powered down as they swept in on each flank disgorging two dozen extolled each who screamed in glory to their gods and the Avatars before plunging headlong into battle, thud bugs and amphistaff venom signalling their approach.

The Aethans and their Extolled retinue held the line for three crucial minutes against over 200 Legionnaires and two dozen mechs and various artillery and speeders, twenty eight shambling necrotic Rancors.

Now the Reapers were mostly dead or had fled, Lykana had managed to slip away with her thrall, but Alwyn had the full united Dathomiri army under her control.

This she now turned on the twin threats either side, arrows and spells by the score fell upon the Legion soldiers who turned on the Dathomiri, enormous waves of flame and lighting summoned from the sky by coven sisters sent the Rancors to a second death just as the Aethan women fixed on a counter spell to cause dozens of the nearby creatures - trying to swat Jarys, Valens and Lyaea off them - to decay into puddles of ichor and rancid gunk.

The tide clearly against them Ima-Kun ordered a controlled and focused withdrawal, sending in his heavier mechs on slaved commands as their pilots bailed to take the brunt of the attacks as he pulled the infantry back to the landers behind them, crisp chevron retreat formations keeping the witches from pursuing and taking a toll on any who strayed within their range.

The young Aethan men, universally sporting chipped armour and some decent wounds telekinetically dragged a dozen of the Legionnaires back screaming into their waiting blades, methodically executing them, while the women hammered the vehicles with lighting and arrows causing the mechs to buckle and explode to the cheers of the bloodied Extolled.

One by one the Rancors fell to sorcery and sheer physical collapse as Jenaea and Jarys tagged to slice the legs out from under one, Valens hurling Lyaea to take the shoulder off another with aetheric fire enchanted blade.

Twisting her arrows from the skull of a Legionnaire Karintha left her People and the Extolled to complete the grim task of ‘finishing’ their enemies and setting up appropriate totems...in addition to looting what equipment they could.

She strode through the ranks of the Dathomiri clasping hands and tending to their fallen as the battle died with mercifully few casualties compared to what could have been.

As she reached the lines of Alwyn’s main force many cheered or patted on the shoulder for the effort against the Legion.

Alwyn with an ever growing number of matriarchs around her was waiting with Milaea who looked a touch worn from shielding such a large area against the Legion artillery.  Despite the numerical advantage the Legion, Reapers and Rancors had still taken a damaging toll on the Dathomiri - in a battle of barely a two thousand participants it could be no other way.  

Karintha spoke first.

“We will pursue Lykana immediately, her powers are weakened now is the time to reclaim my kin,”

Karintha looked across the new leaders who had barely half an hour ago stood with Lykana and now bore splashes of Reaper blood.

“You have much to do here I think,”

“Lykana’s offences are against the People of Dathomir,” Djo ever the opponent of offworlder involvement replied

“We will be the ones to bring her to justice as a unity of the people of Dathomir,”

“What the honoured Clan mother forgets is to thank you for your efforts thus far, and invite you to continue our march together to Blood Peak to arrest Lykana and rescue your ensnared kin,” Alwyn said more diplomatically.

Karintha had no patience for waiting for the weak humans to be ready when Lykana was at her weakest.

“I was not asking permission,” Karintha said firmly
<Milaea, lets go swiftly>

Turning, Milaea walking beside her she heard Djo shout

“Nor would it be given! You are not the ones who suffered years of tribute and fear under Lykana, justice should be ours not some offworlders!”

“Now you speak out of turn Djo,” Aun-Frost Glade, her mighty Frost-Eater axe chipped and soaked in Reaper blood interjected

“These ‘offworlders’ as you deride our friends fought harder for Dathomir over the last months than you did for decades hiding in the Singing Mountains,”

Karintha concealed any trace of satisfaction her efforts to divide the Dathomiri - or rather prevent them ever forming a single hegemony after Lykana was defeated that did not rely on Aethan support - had succeeded.

Less by word than motion sides were picked among the tribal leaders, roughly a third moved toward Aun, the younger angrier generation that felt their parents had given into Lykana too quickly consigning them to a childhood of want.

Another third around Djo - the older generation who still remembered Lykana’s wars of conquest, who wanted freedom, but not at any cost, and could see all too clearly the risk of such a strong offworld presence remaining in play.

Once more Alwyn was caught in the middle with the remainder.  

“Please can we remember we are not fighting each other!” Alwyn said trying to bring some semblance of unity back.

“We need to re-muster our forces, especially now these Offworld Legions have turned on us, and move swiftly but cautiously.”

“Your mounts are too slow, we have vessels far quicker and largely impervious to even the Legions weaponry,” Karintha said firmly,
“We will not allow Lykana anytime to consolidate or recover,”

“You will not use your filthy flying machines in our war!” Djo hissed

“And you have vessels to counter these Iridonians if they try and flee offworld with Lykana? “Aun countered siding closer to Karintha
“Karintha’s people alone can make sure the Bitch queen does not escape and simply return with a million Legionnaires!”

“Foolish girl!” Djo snapped “You do not see how much more dangerous that is, we cannot allow these offworlders to unseat Lykana only to take her place!”

Djo snapped round to see Karintha was already meters away leaving the Dathomiri to bicker with a sense of satisfaction she had ensured they remind divide even after Lykana was dealt with, making them all the easier for the Peoples control and harvesting.

Anger in her eyes Djo near jogged about to grab Karintha to stop her.

Karintha stopped dead before Djo could lay a hand on her, whispering just loud enough for the assembled leaders to hear.

“Do you intend to stop me?”

The tension ran through them beneath the shadow of the Rancors Tooth, the Dathomiri eyeing the Extolled in with revulsion, the Aethans with awe - both with terror.

Djo, tall though she was, sank back small.

“I thought not,” Karintha concluded

“You may have Lykana’s head,” she continued in her stride
“but I will have her life,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 06, 2021, 12:01:44 AM
Chapter 41 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Ichor, Song and Aether — Part 3

(https://i.ibb.co/VYV85bk/Witches-Ichor.png)

Blood Peak

Ima-Kun snorted beneath his Legion helm, the XIV marked proudly on his blood red shoulder pad, the rest of his armour a battle coloured grey that had once been pure white.

A shambling horde of undead creatures creaked and groaned in the dead plains around the mountain, ugly green of twisted magicks bleeding from their eyes as they lumbered toward the advancing enemy.

They would not last an hour.

The ‘Offworld auxillaries’ they had been tasked with defeating were on their tail in five black ships like those that had destroyed the command carrier.

A force of some 20 ‘stage 9 metahumans’ and 120 other warriors of a completely unknown humanoid species that exhibited from thermal scans and excrement analysis a bewildering array of symbionts, that had proved a menacing and ferocious enemy.   

The Nimbanel science Adjunct Yor-Tun had postulated both races were extra-galactic. Ima-Kun longed to try his might against them once more.

Pulling up just outside the range of the anti-aircraft emplacements Ima-Kun had surrounded Blood Peak with he smiled over serrated sharpened teeth as they leapt from their ships to move in on foot.

The first waves of Oblivion arrows tore limbs and torso’s from the horde of undead by the score, 72 telekinetically guided missiles using their incredible momentum to rend already rotted flesh before teleporting back to Aethric quivers whose enchantment reduced the Aetheric power for teleportation by 85 per cent. 

Circular groupings of the revenant horde fell back into the dirt as the women Unwound the necromancy with their own counter spells.

The entire front line of zombies was gone within five minutes of the Aethans reaching the main path to Blood Peak, the Extolled behind them on the foot worn path hundreds had walked to pay their tribute.

Now all the cages and crucifixes were torn down, no body spared a heinous revival to slow, by however minute a fraction, the Aethan advance.

Ima-Kun felt the burning pleasure of the blood-feast well in his chest, the Legion scoured the galaxy on dozens of contracts seeking the joy of the fight against an opponent as vicious and merciless as they were. At long last they had found one.

The first rank of Aethans and Vong reached the Zombies – the young men Lydan, Taryn, Evyn and Maekal making short work of the listless creatures, their main purpose to get a batter eye on the defences behind the flesh wall.

Trenches and barricades in a solid Besh-7 alternating pattern with ensconced heavy weapons emplacements Ima-Kun’s Architecti had done exceptionally well to establish quickly awaited them on the path to the gaping fanged maw of the mountain.

The first plasma bursts were launched from the heavy weapons teams as they got within range, the Iridonians indifferent to carbonizing the already dead Dathomiri corpses. 

Among the trenches and firing from the mountain were 200 Iridonidan Legionnaires finally able to fight with what Ima-Kun termed ‘Poised savagery’ – the violent scar inflicting discipline of their military orphanage combined with instinctive bloodlust.

Heedless of the losses of their fellows the Zombies kept flailing toward second deaths as the Extolled spread out in a wide arc to protect the Aethan flanks and rear, hurling their thud-bugs and unleashing acidic spews from 3 metre Venosnakes carried by four man teams turning the Dathomiri dead into so much bubbling bio matter.

Legion snipers began taking shots forcing them to fall back under the protective shields of their Dovin-basals or the near impenetrable kinetic and energy barrier Yorna and Ari were generating over the centre with the Aether that combined the best of Aethan, Vhal’Dan and now Dathomiri techniques to enhance strength and reduce the drain on their connection to the aether.

Every tentative step closer more legionnaires opened fire with their XN-4 Assault rifles, now mixed with PLEX missiles and fixed Macro-cannons.  Taryn dodged the latter then was slammed mid leap to the side by Maekal to avoid a Thermal mine.

Now Ima-Kun launched his main offensive.  From both flanks and rear his Equites and Air support careered in, mostly Iridonian fighters, bulky Onith shaped fighters that unleashed overpowered weapons eaten by the void generating dovin basals on the first pass, as they sped past for a second tun Oblivion arrows lanced a good half dozen – winding with preternatural precision to penetrate the engines and skewered the pilots – bolts of purple lighting flew from Jenaea and Kassyndra’ hands overloading circuits and crashing three more.

Air superiority was fleeting for the Legion as Sofa, Selaena, Maeson and Evaea arrived in Vorynx fighters they had switched to en-route, Chiss shields and weaponry integrated seamlessly with Blackstone armour giving them a quality edge over the Legions quantity – but their first target was the trenches themselves.

A fusillade of energised phir projectiles from magnetic accelerator cannons designed for space warfare turned the ground into a storm of dust and fire as the mines exploded lifted from all sides.

Into the earth storm the true payload was dropped – Brothers Jarys and Valens and sisters Lyaea and Adaea each riding maglocked to the underside of a fighter, now dropped into the maelstrom and with Oblivion sword and Hades rifles dispatched the Legionnaires retreating or stumbling to right themselves.

The Iridonian fighters war scarred and bestial as their pilots retunred to enagage the Aethan Vorynx fighters beginning a vicious ariel battle around the lonely gray mountain as the Aethan and Extolled force advanced at a run past the melee of churned earth into the mouth of the mountain, innumerable traps and murder holes opening up to slow their advance, taking a toll on their aetheric stamina to shield or avoid, but each other their counter attacks – Aetheric fire into murder holes, Implosion detonators teleported into ceiling spaces crowded with ambushers took a more fatal toll.

Signals for additional aerial support were actioned swiftly by their Command Carrier in Mid Orbit – troop ships and fighters carrying another 120 Legionaries were dispatched.

Xanaea held her breath as the time finally came for her, the youngest of them all to help her extended family. All the plans she had made with Lya, Taryn and Aunt Selaena now had to be enacted as she fired a dozen Shikkar torpedoes from the Aertemisaea and Persephaea exposing the cloaked ships to the Iridonians.

Alarms blared and the Carrier and its two Frigate supports immediately came about to open fire –their first Turbolaser blasts hitting the Aethans Chiss shields just as Xanaea guided the silent torpedoes straight into the hull of the larger vessels.  The ultradense Shikkar projectiles ate through the doonium and bored deep into the ships before their proton-bomb cores detonated – the Legion ships blooming into white heat from within an instant after their second broadside was fired.  The Aertemisaea lost shields but it didn’t matter now the ships that had fired on it were scrap hurtling into the void.

Her mind already burning from the exertion the young Aethan fulfilled her last task unlocking by mental control the distant Aethenaea and opening fire with the deck batteries on the Legion transports and fighters, her control at this distance not precise she only destroyed four of twelve ships before they hit the atmosphere.

Ima-Kun’s rage intensified as he ran through the crooked halls of Blood Pak to join the growing fight, those ships had seen decades of battle – had he known a fifteen year old girl had destroyed them he would’ve had an aneurism.

The vast cavernous space within the Mountain, throne room and audience hall all in one that opened to the sky now crossed very few seconds by screaming fighter exhaust or thumping cannons became charnel house.

From the upper galleries the Legion fired ineffectually onto the Aethan force, Milaea, Ari and Yorna forming a Triune defensive nexus around their fellows that ate the blaster bolts and hurled them back into the Legionaries. 

The Reapers scythes dripping with venom, lips muttering incantations, blanched as they realised their best hexes had no target at all in the Force Dead Extolled. 

The main melee force of the young men, steadied in their respective quirks by old Melron leapt to the galleries to take on the Iridonians while the ranged and aetheric force of Kassyndra, Jenaea and Kiraea provided a further edge against the covens and Reapers

Just inside the mountains Mouth, Valens, Jarys, Lyaea and Adaea fought against the Legion attempts to encircle them, crunched to the walls and increasingly ruined columns they took on the melee Velites and Heavy Princeps.

The battle fields were now set and each side ground on the other. 

Karintha stalked through the throne room with pride as the enemies numbers were bled.

Her Cloak of Shadow learned at last from Evaea by using a Dathomiri Spider Clan technique as the bridge she needed to truly master it allowing her to pass through the chaos unseen, was a tangible display of her final ascent. 

Psychometric mastery all People possessed had her soon find the secret staircase in empty back rooms to Lykana’s sanctum.

There the true battle would be fought, witch against witch, Matriarch against Matriarch.

<<<<>>>>

The Ichor and the Aether
Faster, she had to work faster.

Lykana could hear the battle above through the vibration of the walls of her Sanctum, and the rattle of the chains upon her Vessel.

The meek young woman with tear red eyes was now passed out from the Varangians grip, chained to the altar while he chained himself to the adjoining one in blank obedience, the wounds from his fight against the Gray Knight still pink and raw across his body.

Dust sprinkled from the ceiling as another boom rocked the entire mountain, the Airs of Magic were electric with eldritch battle above, hopefully enough to cover her Ritual in a mess of energies.

Gathering up her tools the silver of a knife caught her reflection.

Skin putrid white was blotched with black decayed sores, eyes sunken in pools of near rotted purpled flesh.

She quickly looked away from her own debased countenance to the Vessel – the beautiful young woman she would soon be once more.

Her rule was shattered, she was under no illusions about that, but next time…next time she would learn from her mistakes, adopt a less stern approach –and most of all not rely on offworlders in any way.

The last of the locks self imposed the Varangian lay obediently beneath the restraints like a docile bolma waiting for the slaughter.

As she muttered her incantations upon the Silver blade she looked contentedly on her Thrall.  He had served her well over decades, it was fitting his last act should be granting her new life.

Absent dozens of willing sacrifices, only the Varangians occult biology and connection to the Force could provide the raw materials necessary to power such a ritual – blood for blood, life for life…soul for soul.

Cutting into his flesh, his blood ran in crystalline rivulets down thin channels in the altar to pool on the Vessels altar where it began to coat her skin. Lykana had to continue to re-cut each incision as her voice continued with the incantations.

“Blood for Blood, Life for Life, Soul for Soul, My spirit free Memory whole…”

A skittering sound at the door briefly caught her attention, she could not be distracted. 

The altars were set in a pool of the most pure ichor that now began to rise in slithering tendrils toward herself and the chained catalysts of her permanent renewal.  All her decades of study and practice of the most potent lore and magicks of Allya and her descendants had lead to this moment.

The excessive use of such magick’s, the self-experimentation and innumerable costly mistakes, however had caused her birth body to become a rotten shell well before its time.

With the new young form that lay before her now beginning to writhe as Ichor tendrils penetrated the skin.  With her memory intact Lykana could take all the hard won experience and knowledge into a new body without having it suffer the prices paid for obtained it.  Not needing to re-bind the Varangian alone would drastically reduce the damage.

The first slips of her conscious mind flaked into the vessel as the ancient heavy wood door behind her was blasted into so many fragments with shatter point precision.

Karintha’s superhuman senses took the entire scene in.  The Sanctum was large, replete with walls covered in shelves stacked with vials, skulls, shrunken heads and blood filled canisters, grimoires dripping with malefic power lay open on desks covered in parchment scrawled with eldritch symbols.

Her husband lay chained and bleeding on one alter, channels taking his life essence down to a limp woman on the other as the target of her fury, Lykana, stood in the midst as a green haze of Magical shielding and ritual that spired from flame to precise runes as it swept over her.

Karintha had resisted, so strongly ever since Yorna confirmed his identity from allowing herself to feel any of the anger, confusion, blinding remorse from the revelation, subsuming herself in the cold mechanics of guiding the People and controlling the Dathomiri war. 

The dictum of Aethenaea of Wisdom, that she had imparted to Jarys, Valens, Yorna, Kiraea and Coryn as they trained as children for a different life to the one they found themselves in – if indeed Coryn still lived at all - had guided her – to be angry, that is easy - but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy.

Now…now was her time to be angry.

Blue glowing eyes and aura of electric flame around tensing pulsing muscles were the visible manifestations of the hormonal and aetheric surge as Karintha let herself sink into the cold hyperactive state of Aephrodaea’s Grace giving her ice clarity of mind, immunity to any sense of pain physical or emotional, enhanced strength and a drastic increase in the flow of the aether through her body.

Lykana could no longer ignore the Singularity of concentrated behind Magick behind her.  The porcelain like precarious ritual fractured just a little as she bundled it in draining but stabilising temporal buffers to avoid losing her progress as she turned to face the woman who had been her true enemy all this time.

She was beautiful in her rage, youthful of face with eyes that had somehow known the death Lykana sought to avoid – the Witch Queen of Dathomir felt envy for the perfection of the biology.

Ichor and Aether struck an instant later and before as time warped around the Witch and the Matriarch.

Luminous Green and Vibrant Blue fused into a kaleidoscope of colour like oil on water as pure beams of destruction and defence collided.

In the midst Karintha thrust her Oblivion sword, the novelty of the enchantment and substrate forcing Lykana to step back and twist the very fabric of three dimensional space to avoid before shattering it to dust with her malefic energies.

Karintha had known her weaponry would not last long.

In cold truth Lykana was a far more powerful Force user than Karintha, and drastically more adept in her dark witchcraft. The Aethan Matriarch was deeply knowledgeable of the Rites and Magics of the Aethan People, but this was overshadowed by Lykana’s Dathomiri genius.

What kept the battle raging and began turning the sanctum about them end over end in a faux reality churn that invested vials dispelling contents and turned words on parchment to mirror images of themselves was Lykana’s need to use her repertoire to keep the Aethan woman from physically reaching her.

In the heat of her breast Lykana knew she was no warrior, even in her prime she had been only ‘competent’ in her marital skills, and her physical cohesion relied on her powers – a full strength blow from an Aethan fist could shatter bones and rupture organs of an Iridonian as the Legion were now discovering – what it would do to Lykana…

Both knew as the flares bleached the walls with eerie shadows of their now vaporized content, that victory was in the numbers, a mathematical function whose exact variables were unknown.

Lykana’ needed enough energy to overcome Karintha’s aetheric and physical strength.  Karintha needed only enough aetheric strength to survive until Lykana’s kinetic defences were less than the newton force of her blows.

The Aethans fists, feet, elbows and knees never stopped hammering glittering ichor kinetite shields mere millimetres from Lykana’s head and breast, a drain of the Witches energy keeping her from overwhelming the Aethan with Dark Magic Death curses.

Time was measured in fatigue, the burning of cells turned to pure Force energy on both sides – of this Karintha had far more to draw upon with proteins six times the mass for the same volume.  What she did not have was the enormity of the fresh energies the Planet itself gave to its natural daughter. Lykana’s whole body was on the verge of turning to dust, her soul alone seemed the motive force beyond any cellular respiration.

The conflagration began reaching levels dangerous even to the shielded victims upon the altar, by strange agreement both wished to spare the two prone beings becoming collateral damage.

Uncertainty tugged at both women as the seconds wore on like decades in the blinding fury of motion and magic. 

The doubt of one she could go any further broke the lock.

Messily and with inevitably fatal physical damage Lykana thrust herself back from the push and pull of combat between body, mind and soul.

Why Karintha did not question – she simply took advantage plunging both her fists into the scrawny back of the woman, both angled up one into her rib cage the other to the neck, effectively tearing the torso in two.

Dried blood more dust than fluid splattered out as the body died.

Spent on her knees Karintha crawled to the side of her lost husband, ritual cuts already sealing under his genehanced healing.

Reaching to take his hand she did not see the luminous cloud of ichor green settle upon the human girl beside him.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 06, 2021, 12:05:17 AM
Chapter 41 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Ichor, Song and Aether — Part 4

The Ichor and the Aether

The larger battle ended with merciless slaughter.

With the Primus Ordinis and half a dozen Praetorians Ima-Kun stopped Lydan, Evyn and Taryn’s pursuit of retreating Legionaries in their tracks, in a fit of vainglorious arrogance Maekal challenged the Iridonian to fight him one on one for rule over his legion before an irritated Taryn dragged the still delusionally overconfident younger aethan away earning more than a few hits to the back in doing so.

Concentrated fire forced them into a corner, greater experience if not strength in swordsmanship cracked and battered their armour forcing them to withdraw.

The Iridonians were as feral as the Vong – two warrior races glorying in each moment bellowing oaths to eat hearts and tear heads – mostly fulfilled in the blood soaked orgy.

With reinforcements the Legion took down Sofa and Evaea’s fighters, to the older woman's immense frustration, but joining the others after bailing out they relieved Jarys to enter the throne room.

Rallying his forces Ima-Kun’s counter attack was succeeding at that point, the Aethan force squeezed into the Triune defensive grid of Milaea, Ari and Yorna, Melron dragging an injured Evyn while Kiraea and Jenaea fought hand to hand against Repaers their weapons damaged in the conflagration.

Jarys charged in with bestial fury, already worn from hours of fighting his blood was filled with hormones that kept his body primed.

The scream that announced him was responded in a choral like medley by the Extolled “Do-ro'ik vong pratte!” – And Woe to our Enemies – as they saw their Avatar of War join them.  It was countered by Ima-Kuns own yell in the old Iridonian Tongue ‘ – Your Heart - My Meal!.

Sighting their opposite tactical leaders Jarys and Ima Kun smashed aside any in their path to reach each other in the increasingly ruined center of the throne room beneath the Dathomiri sky that poured in morning light from the natural opening in the peak.

The Legion was among the best equipped and trained conventional military force the Aethans had ever faced, better equipped than Xithar’s Nova Guard had been, far more disciplined than the pirates and mercenaries they had slaughtered on Vulpter, and more innovative than the Hutt Ketka cybrogs.

Their fatal weakness was a lack of aetheric power. Legion Medics could only bandage an arm and stab in a bacta shot in the same time Milaea and Kassyndra’s accelerated Shatterpoint healing could close a dozen cuts and set limbs and sinews back in place.

The Reapers imbuing fatal does of Ichor to push their abilities to flesh consuming extremes only partially compensated - they were not trained to fight as a cohesive unit with the Legion, and Karintha’s strategy and Kiraea and Lyaea’s rapacious purchase of Dathomiri text had come into its own.

Whilst not yet masters, the Aethans had experienced enough of Dathomiri magic to competently blunt the edge of the Reapers attacks and spells, the self destructive ichor trips gained them only an equal footing to the Aethan women, and the Vongs immunity to so many Force based attacks allowed them to rend unsuspecting witches limb from limb.

It was on the balance of these factors the battle was won and lost.  If the Legion were a better conventional fighting force, and the Witches an equal magicka wielding one, then the Aethans and Extolled better combination of those facets gave them an edge over both sides that while not overwhelming nor instant, gradually bled the enemy down.

The twins delivered shadowed blows, Lydan crunched Iridonians across his knee, Taryn’s pistols and Maesons repeater chugged through Reapers whose wards Lyaea, Sofa and Jenaea unwound with their own hexes. 

Kiraea flanked Valens steady devastation of the Legion Heavies, leaping from the shadows with her blades, Selaena’s rifle shots and infused with Adaea’s magic penetrated the best Reaper ichor shields.  Melron moved to relieve anyone showing fatigue or injury until Milaea or Kassyndra could hurl a red bolt of healing energy at them, themselves protected by Yorna and Ari who deflected hexes, blaster bolts and blades aimed at them.

In the center amidst the Iridonian and Vong conflagration Jarys and Ima-Kun ground against each other like continental plates, one would have to succumb and be overwhelmed by the other, but the pressure generated was enough to break mountains.

Their armour was already frayed and damaged, bodies covered in cuts, but both were built to fight for weeks on end, and as the fighting died down around them it seemed as if they might, the Iridonian orphan one of the few beings Jarys had ever encountered that could physically match him blow for blow.

It was as much of a shock to Ima-Kun who lapped up the challenge and groaned in pleasure at the taste of his own blood.

Like a martial arts exhibition match they slammed elbows, knees and fists against thighs, forearms and - where they could - faces.  Jarys' nascent healing factor, the gift of Aethan genetic engineering, went into overdrive keeping his muscles primed - it was a biological advantage Ima-Kun lacked and he paid dearly for it as the minutes passed in bruise-inducing punishment.

Even when on the floor the Iridonian bit and scratched like a nexu, raging in euphoria as his species primal urge to fight was indulged to a new height.  His knee finding its way to the already shattered chest ruining the organs seeping beneath broken ribs further, Jarys pushed Kun’s face into the crater in the floor, by sheer mechanical pressure crushing his skull in.

Any remaining fight was drained from the Reapers as Karintha emerged from the catacombs pallid and gaunt but with the glow of victory.

The Iridonians, savage to prove their worth as Ima-Kuns successor, fought on for hours more in their retreat among themselves.

A spent force themselves, the Aethans let them leave into the wilds south of Blood Peak, the People had something much more satisfying than a few more Iridonian skulls to crown their victory.

They had the entirety of Lykana’s grimoires, notations, potions and alchemical devices.

<<<<>>>>

The last time Jo’Set’Mack had walked the path to Blood Peak the sight had been grim.

Now it was hideous.

The earth was churned by impact craters and the ruin of Legion weapon emplacements. The path he and the Dathomiri tribal leaders along with their honour guards walked was lined with the hanging bodies of said Iridonian Legionnaires and Reapers.

The Aethans bizarre tattooed and horned auxiliaries prowled the edges of the Dathomiri column.  They skittered about, or leered at the Witches in small hunched groups all across the ruined fields before the mountain.

Their positions appeared random, as if the Dathomiri had interrupted their post battle looting, yet all the Chiefs knew their placement was carefully planned to maximize the effectiveness of a charge, ensure overlapping fire and deny any opportunity for retreat.

The opening to Blood peak itself was caked in grime and blood, two Aethans in full light eating armour that were covered in dust and scratches stood on either side as the smaller group of leaders passed, the main body of warriors remaining outside.

Alwyn swallowed hard as she entered what had one been Lykana’s throne room. 

The vast airy space open to the sky through the gap in the mountains top lit by starlight.  Much of the floor was chipped and broken, the podiums that had once proudly held Lykana’s grimoires conspicuously overturned with no sign of the tomes themselves.

Up the steps etched in the Fanged Gods teeth, below the spread Wings of the Goddess was Lykana’s Throne of Skull and Stone.

It was empty apart from a half broken glass jar with brown-red dust inside.

Beside it stood Karintha in full armour, only her head exposed showing gaunt features and dark circles around her piercing eyes. She rested a single hand on the back of the Throne. 

Just behind her was the one known as Jarys, his face showing a number of cuts that were pulsing pink as they healed.

On the other side of the Throne was Valens and Milaea, the young woman off to the side slightly, face still showing a slight flush of red glow.

Sitting with a leg swinging off the edge of a ledge of the mezzanine was Kiraea.

Alwyn saw in the five of them, respectively, the Queen, Champion, General, Mage and Spymaster - a royal court of her Allies.  Karintha’s hand on the throne said clearly to all the Chieftains ‘I can take this throne if I want it’.

“Lykana is dead,” Alwyn stated as she approached.

Karintha gestured to the ashes filled jar on the throne
“In so many pieces,”
Alwyn controlled herself from cringing at the indifferent gallows humour, whatever Lykana’s failing she was still a powerful witch of Dathomir worthy of respect in death.

“Her forces are broken and scattered, we will dispose of the Legions equipment” Karintha instructed.

Alwyn glanced again at the fallen podiums and the lack of any of the usual decorations Lykana had shown in her throne room to display her power.

“Lykana’s books, equipment, enchanted fetishes,” Alwyn asked

“Lost in the fighting,” Karintha replied offhandedly, the Dathomiri woman well aware ‘lost’ was a euphemism for ‘looted’

She had no doubt, given the precedent of Karintha’s people's rapacious desire for knowledge, all Lykana had accumulated over decades of rule was already ferried offworld.

Deep secrets of the Dathomiri and Lykana’s own magical innovations would advance the advantage Karintha’s People held even further.

“And the Varangian?” Alwyn went on

“Is no longer a threat to you,” Karintha obfuscated, waving to a dark corner where another Aethan stepped forward with a young woman

“We found this woman, prisoner of Lykana, the only survivor,”

Taking her hand off the throne Karintha strode down the Fanged Gods Steps in perfect time to her court, Kiraea quietly flipping from her position above until the two sides were face to face.

Armoured, and still steaming heat and force energies from the battle Jo felt the gravity like consumptive presence of the Aethans, and knew the Dathomiri - even the powerful Magi Yzzerhera - felt the weight of demi-gods eyes upon them.

For a moment, however brief, the paranoid stirring Alwyn had been feeling for some time took a hold and paused her heart in her chest, as if she were waiting for them to indifferently decapitate her and all the leaders.

“You have our thanks and respect Alwyn Hri of the Whistling, Caverns, and all of you for allowing us to recover our lost Kinsman,” Karintha said instead

“There is much to be done to rebuild,” She extended her armoured hand
“And as your firm friends we will assist in anyway we can,”

Feeling she had little choice, Alwyn took the cold stone fist in hers.

<<<<>>>>

There was less celebration than simple relief in the weeks that followed.

A chain too long choking every neck had been loosened.

The Chiefs assembled a large gathering at Rancors tooth to re-establish adherence to the Book of Law as the guide for all Clans.

It did not take long for squabbles to arise. 

Land granted by Lykana during her reign to loyal tribes was demanded to be returned, a distribution of the goods taken from Rancor’s Tooth and Lykana’s other storehouses caused tension after a simple per capita share was rejected on the basis some tribes would be disadvantaged because they had lost more warriors in the war, others from Lykana’s tributes.

A formula could not be worked out and in the nights that followed much was stolen away by those guarding it.   

Rumours that some of the Legion and Reapers had fled beyond the deserts to the ancient ruins of the Zeffo spread quickly, but weary of marching there was no pursuit.

Talk of other stray Iridonian Legionnaires being harnessed as Chattel too were overlooked.

Alwyn’s position as First Among Equals was increasingly diluted as louder voices of those with stronger standing armies imposed themselves. 

In some ways it was a relief, she had no desire to be Queen...and yet the absence of a Queen seemed to caused regression to bickering far more quickly than she had expected.

By the time she returned to the Whistling Caverns her hopes for a better future were…

Faded…

“What do you see Magi?” she had asked Yzzerhera before they parted

“Of the Future...Child you know better than to pry…” the old woman's laugh had for the first time a smoothness to it amidst the sand on stone crackle.

“I see a time of growth, abundance, prosperity...the clans will recover, grow, trade...and when your Granddaughter is raised to Chief, Lykana will be a hazy memory...but the clans are the clans...they will snipe, argue and bicker all the while - and those with ambition frustrated here will leave to the black seas of the stars ...then...then my vision grows dim…”

Perhaps the only thing she didn’t have to worry about was her Aethan allies.

After joining the celebrations, in however perfunctory a manner, they had left quietly, no doubt not wishing to allow any time for questions as to exactly what they had taken from Blood Peak to arise.

But not before passing out as gifts various items to the Tribal chiefs and other friends they had made during their time, mainly in the form of overly weighted daggers inscribed with a Triquetra and Dathomiri glyph of the recipients Clan or tribe.

She bowed her head as she accepted hers from Karintha feeling the object's mass both physical and in the Force.

“It is difficult to get the weight right with the material,” Karintha noted as Alwyn looked at the deep black of the blade.

“We shall have to work on it,”

“My thanks, I will keep this in a place of honour,” something about the weapon seemed wrong, like it was...watching her, willing her to use it...Alwyn would keep it in a place of honour and remembrance. But never use it. 

She knew other recipients would not be so cautious.

“I suppose I should return this?” Jo said offering the training saber back to Ari. She shrugged indifferently
“It’s yours now, use it well,”

He nodded in appreciation then looked to Milaea, even he could see the pair were inseparable.

“I guess it’s time to…” he pointed to his head and made a twisting motion, knowing memory erasure was the best he could hope for.

“That won’t be necessary,” Jeisena intervened, Ulwyn in her arms occupied by a small stuffed gormin she had been given by Kiraea.

“You have my word the male will not speak of your presence to his old comrades, and neither he nor I will be leaving Dathomir now,”

Jo gulped, less at Jeisena suddenly restricting him to Dathomir than the almost merciful intervention, albeit couched strictly within her remit as his Mistress.

Ari and Milaea shared a glance, and, Jo was certain, a discussion at lightspeed with the others of their kind.

“We accept your word,” Ari replied

So that was his fate, to live out his days chattel on Dathomir…

“Good,” Jeisena added, sliding up to Jo and nestling just under his arm in an affectionate display unimaginable mere months before.

“I don’t want to risk this fool’s brain becoming any more addled,” she said, but this time there was levity in the insult...not fully, but enough Jo noticed the difference as she grabbed his hand eagerly.

“You may take his ship, he won’t be needing it, come maleling, you have much work to do…” she said, leading him back to the caverns.

“...it’s not right for Ulwyn to be without a sister….”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on August 06, 2021, 12:06:54 AM
Chapter 41 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Ichor, Song and Aether — Part 5

Li'I'Mack

A small guard surrounded the Rain Song as it touched down on the outdoors platform on the dusty plateau covered in strapped crates and idling tunneling machinery.

The first guide tunnels had been dug into what Li’I’Mack intended to be the Mountain - the fortress of the Mak’tor on M’Tzigon, much work was left to be done but it was a start.

It had kept her occupied from worrying about other matters, namely the Civil war erupting all over Galtea.

So far neither Anson, nor Kazic Ovarug the Speaker trying to usurp the Kage’s position from D’Aklon had asked for Mak’tor support. 

Not that they could offer much after Vyth…the Mak’Tor liaison had already returned to M’tzigon as the situation deteriorated rapidly.

Her preference was not to get involved at all, but she had sent an offer to both sides to act as mediator and M’Tzigon as a location for a summit. 

There had been no response, and her last talk with Anson - if his ranting could be called that - had shown him a changing man, he was always steadfast - she had liked that about him...but now - he was becoming simply obdurate.

It was for this reason she was wary when the Rain Song was detected floating at the edge of the system, slaved in and checked over by Marines, they found nothing of danger, and only Four Eight - Jo’s droid - on board.

The hatch opening and hissing refuse gases she stepped warily into the all too familiar vessel with Four Nine at her back.

The smell was the same and brought back memories of her father, uncle...cousins and Odjina…

Four-Eight sat patiently beside the corridor to the cockpit, yellow light blinking.

“You fly all this way by yourself?” she asked kneeling in front of the droid.

Oddly it didn’t reply

<Bleep-boop-bidi-boop> Four Nine blurted at its brother droid.

Four-Eight stiffened and suddenly burst out a projection a handwidth tall of Jo, wearing what looked like some kind of tribal costume.

“Li...I hope you and Ha’Ona are well, I’m sorry to have to do this on a holo-vid, but well there isn’t much choice….”

She knelt patiently as Jo explained his new ‘living arrangements’, that he wanted the Rain Song and Four Eight given to Ha’Ona when she was old enough...and his regret he wouldn’t be there to see her grow.

“...I’m looking at this as my second chance, not the life I would have imagined but a better one than I deserve...I know you’ll look after Ha’Ona...there is another recording on Four-Eight for her...when she is older.  Farewell Li….Trust the Singer,”

<<<<>>>>

Karintha

His fingers closed to interlace with Karintha's as the sharp light searched the back of his eyes.

“Finished,”

Blinking out the odd colours he saw his wife look at the younger woman before him.

“Apart from a few minor heavy metal and vitamin deficiencies you're perfectly healthy...what do you remember?”

“After following the witch to her village...little...flashes like the remnants of a dream, faces, animals, blood…”

His voice was as Karintha remembered it, only slightly wet from drinking copious nutrient fluids.

Milaea nodded her 'neurological pruning' had worked

“All your memories as the ‘Varangian’ are still there as part of our eidetic memories…”

“Eidaeatic..”' Taran sounded,

“It means....” Karintha explained ”...our memories are far more precise and accurate compared to Outsiders,”

He squeezed her hand in appreciation, there were many outsiders words he and Karintha had to learn.

“I’ve cut some of the connections to the regions of your brain storing that information, they will gradually heal giving you access again, but this way your mind will process them in drips over a few months rather than a sudden tidal wave of information.” Milaea explained

The mechanism preserved memories but kept them from being overwhelming, it was a method she had practised to perfection on Taryn, Maekal, Oran and Nyaea. As easy as it was to simply remove memories, that was a choice only the ‘owner’ of the memories should be allowed to make...even so the number of the People whose memories she had edited was growing uncomfortably large, and her indifference to the moral implications troublingly easy.

“I think I understand…” Taran replied so far as he understood it had been mere days since he was on Aethas fighting off daemons and goblins, thrown in a ship full of dead bodies then lashed to an altar by witches.

“...thank you Cilina,”

Milaea blinked and glanced quickly to Karintha

“Milaea, my love,” Karntha corrected as gently as she held him
“Cilina’s and Jarys daughter,”

Taran looked briefly confused,
“Yes...Milaea...you told me that…”

“Why don’t you rest here for a little while…”

There wasn’t anywhere for him to go, they were on a vessel in hyperspace, but such things meant little to him, she had explained it as an ocean going vessel he was familiar with.

“I’ll speak to Milaea outside,”

Leaving Taran behind, Karintha’s otherwise endlessly commanding face fell into genuine worry.

<Could this be a result of the memory adjustment you performed?> she asked Milaea on a quiet telepathic channel

This had not been the first time he had forgotten a new detail even in the last ten minutes.

<No...the connections for long and short term memory are distinct in our neurology, ...this seems like a form of transient global amnesia - an inability to form new memories or recall recent events…>

<A result of twenty five years of mind wiping and control…> Karintha simmered angrily

<Almost certainly,> Milaea had to sadly agree 

<Will he recover, with real food, returning to Aethas?>

<I don’t know, our biological ability to heal is almost without parallel, but Lykana’s repeated intense Soul Bindings - I’ve read a few of Lykana’s notes but still haven’t understood the method fully and even then it was certainly not a Spell designed with unbinding in mind....>

“You should rest yourself, Milaea....” Karintha said, “I’ll stay with him,”

Milaea nodded and headed toward the cabins, pausing a door down the corridor of the Aephrodaea

“If you need me and Ari to step in, while you look after Taran,”  Milaea said, referring to the now broadly accepted fact Karintha was Matriarch, no vote of formal investiture was ever used among the People, the transition of authority followed the lines of confidence and competency. 

Karintha’s retrieval of Taran, defeat of Lykana, and accumulation of allies and vast stores of Dathomiri magical knowledge had proved her equal to Valens in dealing with - and exploiting - outsiders. 

More importantly Karintha had the cultural and interpersonal abilities he lacked, Valens more willing to pull back to his role of Warchief, and none of the other women enthused to take the position Karintha finally had by unspoken assent her position as Matriarch secured.

Any satisfaction was brutally overcome by the difficulties she would now face helping Taran recover.

“Until Taran is settled in…that would be helpful” Karintha agreed appreciatively knowing that at any moment another signal could come through the Obelisk. 

Karintha did not fail to notice Milaea spoke of herself and Aresaea as joint deputies.

Milaea nodded and headed off, Karintha unsurprised, to Ari’s room. 

She turned back to her husband slowly opening and closing his fingers.

Then suddenly looking about the technology stuffed white and blue-grey medical suite in awe and confusion. 

She felt panic stirring in his aura.

“It’s alright,” she said quickly at his side

“I’m here,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on August 07, 2021, 06:01:17 PM
A satisfactory--no, INCREDIBLE!--conclusion to the Aethan-Dathomir War!

Interesting choice of champions with Alwyn naming Jo'Set but understandable: she has seen both sides of her Aethan "allies" and the costs that being "friends" entails...and, I'm sure, she had some other, more personal reasons not to name Karintha (or another Person).  Unfortunately, "victory" is ever seldom so neat, tidy, or fair: without a common enemy, old enmities once again take center stage.  Still, the repercussions of the People's involvement are nevertheless felt (if not necessarily seen nor celebrated) in the present... I wonder just which of these daggers the Hri clan hold on to, eventually making its way into a certain Gray Jedi's possession as the Tenebris Pugione ;)

As stated, this is the first real war that the Aethans have openly participated in, giving them an opportunity to try their current weapons, armament, and tactics against a prepared opponent.  Certainly Dathomir is the first theater of war that the People break their teeth on, learning, adapting, and improving upon the strategies they'll use, helping to set the stage for a certain civil war...

As xenophobic and for all of the Aethan's cultural-centricity, I do feel bad for Taran: enslaved, abused, used, and brainwashed for over two decades, only to be released to a new life he no longer recognizes, his memory as imperfect as the life awaiting him (which is saying A LOT given that the People have been specifically designed to handle and even outright ignore adversity...Lykana's Soul and Mind overwriting MUST be incredibly potent...unsurprising given that she was even more powerful in the Force than even Karintha).  As we've seen, such power does not give up the ghost easily.  Speaking of...

It seems that the villains in the Forumverse are hard to kill and Lykana is no different.  One wonders just how much of Lykana survived and/or how long it will take her to begin again her ambitions of power.  Certainly a phenomenally powerful Dathomiri witch such as her would not be content with just living, especially after not having tasted the benefits of her previously vaunted autocracy.  But I guess that is a story for another time  ;)

As Jo'Set is a personal favorite, I have to admit truly enjoying his arc during this story, particularly his redemption within the eyes of his new family, the Maker/the Song, and--most importantly--himself.  It's just too bad that his experiences as a Singer will eventually lead to some of the future Hri Sisters terrorizing various Gray Orders in their capacity as Dark Singers  :)  Yet, Jo has certainly earned himself a reprieve from his earlier actions and mistakes (and his scene fighting against the Varangian was amongst the best fights of the Forumverse, bar none!)

Where will the future take the People to now?  Hopefully we get to see a closer look at the burgeoning relationship between Mili and Ari (even Jo'Set noticed!)  :)

Looking forward to the next cycle of RotA!

P.S. Yet another AWESOME poster that you made!  Fantastic work; between you, FT, and PS, we've got some truly gifted visual artists here!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 01, 2021, 05:28:55 AM
Chapter 42 — The Black Obelisk — Part 1

Aunt

(https://i.ibb.co/fqY09rs/destroyerorbit-5a-mk.png) (https://ibb.co/dj0KtkR)

The Aertemisaea Drifted past the orbital docks it had left a war ago.

Of the three vast frames only the far end was occupied, its cradled side opened out to accommodate the larger than normal vessel under construction.

Hundreds of Chiss Construction drones swarmed in perfect obedience to their advanced hive algorithms.  Their Virtual Intelligence modelled on insectoid minds - most likely Killik captives of the Chiss dissected for study - moved chunks of Blackstone from a vast barge beside, cold fusing the material to the Chiss doonium alloy in a polarized covalent bond.

The Hecate was slowly being clothed in the final layer of armour.

650 meters long, compared to the 350 meter Aertemisaea Class Destroyers, the Hecate would be their first Malefic Class Super Destroyer.  

While a tad under double the length and breadth, it had four times the fire power, and most crucial of all, in the very heart of the vessel was a vast chamber featuring nine hollows ready to accept Nine Blackstone Obelisks.

The Hecate was to be a heavily armed mobile Obelisk array, flanked by the four existing vessels, Aertemisaea, Aephrodaea, Aethenaea and Persephaea, they would have capital ships capable of annihilating entire fleets of conventional craft with Chiss Mega-Masers, Shikkar torpedoes, magnetic accelerator cannons, and most easily of all, teleporting Chiss Thermo nuclear bombs using the aether and the Obelisk array directly onto enemy vessels, or so close to the hull as to have the same effect.

And that was just the start of a portable Obelisk arrays potential -  offensively it could be used to amplify Malacia attacks, mental thorns, Terror Bombs, mind control, far greater than the other ships existing Aetheric Nexi.

Defensively it could extend Evaea and Evyns Cloak of Shadow or Milaea’s Veil of Mist across their entire fleet, adding aetheric stealth to the Stygium Cloak Generator and Void Shield inverters they currently used.

Unfortunately it was still not finished, and for now they had only one incomplete Obelisk array in the Aeda facility.

Even so as Karintha watched the dock drift by she saw the future power of Her People etched in metal and stone.

The next time any Outsider attempted to attack the People on their homeworld they would be met not with shock and surprise, but a counterattack with cold ferocity the likes of which could not be comprehended by petty human minds.

Measured steps came up behind her on the otherwise empty bridge.  Jarys leathers a dark brown contrasting with the interior chiss pallet of light greys and blues.

His reflection in the shimmering viewscreen showed a face that on a quick glance could’ve been mistaken for his grandfather. Jarys now in his forties finally fully matured into the endless peak of strength and fitness genetic engineering gifted their species, his features had broadened slightly as bones thickened and settled into their final adult form, to look so much like Old Andis it squeezed at her heart.

“How are you, Aunt?” the man older than her in years after accounting for her temporary ‘death’ asked.

His question was intentionally directed at her, everyone was concerned about Taran, and given her unspoken ascent to Matriarchy might not consider how Taran’s condition was affecting her.

“Managing for now...though there are many tasks I need to attend to once we return,”

Her position secure Karintha wanted to waste no time in guiding the social and cultural trajectory of the People toward Greater Perfection...a duty that conflicted with her desire to care for her recently found husband.  

“Anything I can help with?” the softness in his voice belied his muscular frame.

“If you could take Taran to the old training grounds and villages for a few days, see if that assists his memory…” she replied bitter that her Matriarchal duties, so eagerly sought, now interfered.

“...how is your relationship with your daughter,”

Piercing in her insight and astute knowledge of interpersonal relationships was a Matriarchal quality Karintha expelled in.

“Quiet…” was his whispered answer
“We’ve seldom talked since the Twins were rescued, even before we left for Dathomir…”

The iron of the man beside her seemed to drain at the mention of his daughter, the wound of absence from Milaea’s early years and loss of her mother perhaps beyond healing. More than all this, that Milaea had been raised by the Jedi Soryu ensured she would never see Jarys as a father, a lack of recognition his biology could never fully accept.

Milaea had used that genetic bond to her advantage in keeping Jarys from devastating the twins,  a shrewd move Karintha admired.

“I don’t know what to say, or even if I should try,”

She laid a consoling hand on his shoulder, musculature that had torn the arms off a necrotic Rancor impotent against the fear of damaging the tentative relationship with his daughter more.  

“She’ll come to you when she is ready, as uncomfortable as it must feel, it can’t be rushed, Milaea is still working through her thoughts on other personal matters,”

Jarys knew - everyone knew - what Karintha was referring to, the seemingly endless dance between Milaea and Aresaea on the edge of something far more than friendship.  

He nodded appreciating his Aunt's advice, long missed the years she was, for all intents and purposes, dead.    

“I understand, though I have no idea why those two haven’t…”

“They are both establishing themselves as young women,” Karintha explained
“It’s a time of change for them both. Milaea is finally embracing her role and casting aside the last vestiges of Jedi Morality as the need to protect and heal the People take precedence, and Kassyndra keeps her grounded from her visions of horrific futures.
Aresaea has grown quickly, and powerfully, outside of her adoptive parents influence, it troubles her how much, and her view of Outsiders, even her parents, grow ever more tarnished the more crimes against the People we uncover and the stronger she embraces her role as a Guardian.”

“They are a different generation,” Jarys added
“With Kiraea and I it was...easy, instinctual...but we were both much older,”

Never say you were both ‘older’ in Kiri’s hearing,” Karintha teased
“You are correct, their childhood was so different from ours, until the girls are settled in themselves, I think they can’t quite take the next step,”

Jarys face lit with a warm smile, at the joke and the thought of his daughter finding such an ideal match, but he soon sobered.

“I’ll wait then, as long as it takes,”

<<<<>>>>

Ari and Mili

A whole plasseal bag full of electrostatic numbered tags lay forgotten on the hold floor, the room permeated by the earthy scent of Dathomiri wood and soil.

The pair who had come here to catalogue the items in orderly containers were hunched over a grimoire and a Chieftain's staff respectively, interrogating the objects with sight and aether.

The trove of objects ‘obtained’ from Dathomir, by trade, gift or outright theft, was when they had come in far larger than they remembered.  At least a third Milaea suspected had been stolen by Kiraea who had co-opted Evaea with her impeccable stealth skills, and Jenaea with a former slaves talent at scurrying away objects to help.

Some were absurdly large, an entire Rancors Skulls etched in old Chthonian runes - Ari had no idea how they even got it in here.

They had sighed and set to work, both women felt uncomfortable about the scale of the cultural harvesting, but delving into the items that caught their fancy soon displaced any discomfort with curiosity and fascination.

Beneath the white blue light Milaea flicked through one of Lykana’s earliest works, her more youthful handwriting in the margins of Allya’s Book of Ichor Arts, Ari inspecting the enchantment on the Staff, its ability to exude an aura that diminished critical thoughts and increased agreeableness to presumably make those beneath he Chief submit readily.

They had already learned many new skills, more advanced necormancy techniques, Hex and Rune shields, Ichor crafting and hexes - this trove - while it would take years for the People to fully study, reverse engineer and improve upon - would sharpen and strengthen the People's abilities beyond compare.

“I wish we could’ve spent more time on Dathomir…” Ari said amidst her aetheric prying
“Such a rich history and culture to study...we didn’t have time to look at any of the Kwa or Zeffo ruins,”

She leaned back, her eyes on the staff yet wistfully looking much further away.

“It was so exciting looking in the ruins on Yavin, finding hidden doors and alcoves with strange items...then on Galtea puzzling out what they were their age, their meaning...every chance we got Saani would take me to a dig or archaeological lecture...I miss that,”

Looking up from the grimoire Milaea could only mirror the excitement Ari radiated in her own smile.

“One day we’ll have to go back there,”

Ari didn’t fail to notice how naturally Milaea said ‘we’ rather than just ‘you’.

“I hope so…” Ari stood stretching out
“But for now there are just as many things to uncover on Aethas, so many Technocracy bunkers and vaults we haven’t catalogued...we found the Obelisks under Mount Alixaea, who know what other creations are beneath the Glaciers of the south pole, the Alinn Mountain chain,”  

Chiss scans had revealed numerous ‘anomalies’ that were likely old Technocracy facilities buried for centuries after the devastation.

“hmmmph…” Ari felt a twinge in her shoulder , reaching round only partially able to rub the newly regrown muscle tissue from an Reaper blade in the shoulder during the Battle of Rancor’s Tooth.

“Here let me…” Milaea stood, leaping on her toes between the vast horde of Dathomiri treasures to come behind her friend, fingers synchronizing with shatter-point vision to find the exact right place to apply a gentle massage through Ari’s light vest.

“That’s it…” Ari said, leaning her head back…

“Actually…” she pulled away briefly to take off her vest. Milaea’s heart squeezed a few revolutions per minute faster as she touched Ari’s bare skin and the fact Ari wasn’t wearing anything under the vest.

“It’s very...that...their weapons really bite…” Milaea stammered as Ari’s head swayed gently in time with her massage, Mialea adding a trail of healing energy to speed the muscles natural growth.

“Ichor poisons,” Ari agreed “If our bodies weren’t so good at sequestering wounds and immune systems have such a strong aetheric component it could cause real damage...should be fine in a day or two though.”

The words sparked neurons to activate to trickle meaning to her minds, but it was being this close to Ari that was electric for Milaea.  After so many weeks they were alone, it was quiet, she could feel her warm alabaster skin, smell her auburn-red hair...just one lean forward and…

“Are you…”

The spell was broken as Lyaea’s head popped in the store room door they hadn’t noticed even opening.

“...finished?” Lyaea finished with a grin as Milaea and Ari quickly parted sheepish looks on their faces as Ari scooped up her vest
“Or just getting started…I’ll leave you to it,” Lyaea finished leaving the pair to shy giggles and uncertain glances once more.

<<<<>>>>

Jarys

(https://i.ibb.co/rbjDDVd/J-Trees.jpg) (https://ibb.co/rbjDDVd)

A numbness, the closest his species could come to pain, filled the side of his face as he felt his entire body sway back with the imparted momentum.

“See Andis, Still sharp as ever,”

So far as his combat skills went Jarys could not deny it, Taran remained as strong as Jarys remembered from his youth.  

Both shirtless with only loose trousers they were the epitome of genetically mouded males physiques, forged by battle, numerous scars from Dathomir slowly vanishing as quickly as Taran’s near term memory, again calling Jarys by his grandfather's name.

Sensing the worry Taran quickly corrected himself

“Jarys...Jarys…” he extended his arm to end the short bout in the cool of the late Autumn sun, the Obirio trees turning a vibrant red and orange as they wilted away for the upcoming winter on Aethas.

“You look so much like your grandfather when he was young,” Taran smiled trying to joke away the slip as he reached out an arm to help Jarys steady from the blow.

Jarys smiled sadly.

As Milaea’s triage had confirmed, Taran’s physical recovery was complete after a handful of days with proper Aethan food and radiation levels - the pace of mental recovery was glacial, it would take 5 years at his current rate to fully recover - assuming he didn’t plateau before then.

Taran stared at the trees about him
“So many things are lost like the leaves from trees...but spring see new ones grow…” Taran mused,

Jarys had forgotten Taran’s eloquence, he was what the Outsiders might call a warrior poet - it was good to hear Taran had not lost that aspect of his personality.  

The nominally older man shook his head, the concept clear in his mind as the rhythm of the Aether as seasons changed  but the words not harmonising into form.

“Another round,” Taran suggested to avoid ruminations on the frustration within his own mind by exercising his body.

Sensing all this Jarys agreed, the two returning to the ends of the circle marked in coarse sands of eroded ultradense stones.

Taran could remember coming here all those years ago, each and every instance, who he was with, what matches and techniques they had practised, where he went after...but he could not remember ho many rounds he had gone this very day!

They took a fighting stance, fists high to protect the head, legs spaces wide and shuffled around the circle, by diagonals and feints moving gradually closer.

Jarys threw the first punch, blocked by Tarn’s forearm, the riposte came in the form of swift low kicks and the match truly began.

Meaty slaps of skin on skin sent shockwaves through the air bouncing the nearby fallen leaves and sand beneath them.  Knees and elbows were used with pinpoint accuracy to hammer into joints, palms and fists left another layer of purple across their faces as they fought on for the Eighth time.

And Jarys saw Taran use the same pattern exactly, the rib punches followed by a sudden spinning kicks, a barrage to force Jarys guard to a small area in front of his troso Taran would exploit to come in at the side.  

It had worked the first time leaving Jarys on the ground, the second Jarys had countered Taran seeming shocked then his eyes glinting with intent to  try something different next time.

But the third time it was the same, and the fourth...Jarys countered in different ways, but on the Seventh, he hadn’t the heart to do it anymore, letting the blows land again.

A sudden strike that bounced the side of his head about shook Jarys from his misplaced empathy, coddling Taran was unhelpful and disrespectful.

 Snapping back fast, pulling his chest in so Taran’s rib punches were short by millimeters, Jarys went over his arms and slammed his fists into each of Taran’s shoulders, quickly pulled back even as the shock registered and thrust his knee straight into Tarans stomach before bringing down both elbows into his back, flattening the large man in a way unthinkable last time they had sparred when Jarys was all of 19.

“Goddesses…” Taran croaked pushing up quickly
“Where did you learn that one Andis…”
Taran dusted himself off seemingly oblivious to growing pile of bruises and small cuts
“A good start though, now to round two?”

Jarys shook his head.

“I’m Jarys, Taran.  Thats eight rounds, we need to break before we injure ourselves,”

Taran looked up still slightly hunched in mild confusion

“...Jarys, Goddesses you’ve grown, you look just like Andis when he was young,” he gazed suddenly at the grazes and cuts on his hands from the harsh gravel floor of the training circle.
“How did they get like that….”

Jarys knelt before him sadly, squeezing Tarans hands in his own flowing thin crackles of shatter point healing energy.

“Come let’s get some water,”

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 01, 2021, 05:33:26 AM
Chapter 42 — The Black Obelisk — Part 2

Matchmaker

(https://i.ibb.co/zPjFp3g/Kar-5.jpg) (https://ibb.co/zPjFp3g)

The collection was sombre.

The Rorak 12 - adults used to force bree Aethan children for conversion into vile Cybernetic saves, and the Kaminoan 20 - infants cloned from Guardians of old, including herself in fact - on the other side of the icy cavernous chamber of sparkling frost bitten medical white and blue-steel.  

32 Aethans frozen in time. The Rorak 12 required extensive healing before they even considered awakening them, the infants needed a stable settled society with parents who had time to devote solely to them.

This was the core of the People’s future population, and it remained frustratingly on constant pause.

Karintha strode quietly along the silent ranks of stasis pods as Kassyndra instructed Oran and Nyaea on their operation, Xanaea acting as an assistant with great enthusiasm.  Oran possessed and intriguing natural talent for healing using rhythmic motifs, like a Song almost, how he came across such in his forgotten captivity remained unknown.

Nyaea, herself rescued from such a polar tomb, had a large warm heart and quiet disposition, wishing nothing more than to help in anyway she could.  It made Karintha’s anger for what she had been subjected to by the outsiders ever sharper.

But Karintha had not come here to observe.

“...once the lungs are recovered we’ll move onto digestion, the homogenous sludge the Hutts fed them resulted in many symbiotic bacteria in their stomachs simply starving, transfusions will be needed, we can take samples but it won’t be especially enjoyable…” Kassyndra was explaining to the trio of young Aethans.

“Kassy, if i might steal Nya away for a little while,” Karintha interrupted

“Of course, I think we’ve covered off most things...Xani you can run Nya through what’s left later,”

“Really?” Xani beamed to be given any responsibility

“Really,”

As Karintha and Nyaea left, Xani seemed to triple her speed of note taking.

“Did I do something wrong?” Nya asked as they entered the fortresses corridors

“Of course not my love,” Karintha assured, wrapping her arm around the teenager.

“It’s just time you started to learn some of the Arts of Aertemisaea, the Ways of Warfare and Hunting,”

Nyaea seemed more uncomfortable with each word,

“It’s important,” Karintha emphasized as they headed up two levels to the gymnasium “That you start soon, the Galaxy is dangerous for People, and while I and the other Guardians will do all we can to protect you, you must be able to protect yourself,”  

The double door slid open to reveal Evyn and Evaea lightly boxing on the large main floor, the inseparable twins obsessive in their training.  Those two characteristics, their inseparability and obsession needed correction.

They waited patiently till the twins had finished, Evyn landing a hard blow to Evaea’s ribs to send her doubling over for a moment, and Nyaea wincing.

“Evyn, Nyaea is ready to learn some martial skills,” Karintha began, noting happily that Nyaea’s eyes were drawn toward the shirtless Evyn’s firm musculature.

“I think you would be an excellent teacher of those fundamentals,”

Evyn looked shocked, Evaea flashed jealousy.

“Me...wouldn’t another woman be more…”

“Appropriate, for the more advanced lessons yes, but everyone else is occupied,”

“I could teach her,” Evaea insisted, determined no one, especially not a young female, drew her brother from her.  While Evaea’s protectiveness of her brother, and herself, was understandable, the Twins needed to begin forging their own identities, and, more importantly, Karintha needed the young adults to begin to form mating pairs for the People’s future to be assured.

Evyn was quiet and, except when ‘on duty’, gentle, much like Lydan, he would make a perfect match for Nyaea, and both needed more comfort around those outside their immediate circle.

“I have another task for you, Eva. Evyn why don’t you and Nya begin now...Evaea come with me for a while,”

They left the pair in a state of uncomfortable uncertainty, but Karintha knew it would not be long before Evyn and Nyaea connected, her concern now was Evaea whose pouting was tangible in the aether.

She led her to the hangar, the Perspehaea docked high above and the wide doors in the mountain side open, Valens standing on the edge his bow aiming down, firing off shots every few seconds

“Faster,” Valens demanded

“I would…” Maekal huffed out gripping the rock face 200 meters down

“If you would stop shooting things at me!  This labour is beneath me...we should fly on angelic...!”

Valens fired three shots far faster than he ought, one nicking Maekals arm

“OW!”      

“Perhaps a break Val…”

Valens shrugged and strode back teleporting the arrows back to his quiver as Maekal ascended the remaining distance.

“This is pointless…” the former God king sniffed “A waste of my talents,”

No one could tolerate Maekals self important whining for long, and he seemed remarkably resilient to any attempt to lower his over inflated opinion of his abilities.

“Then perhaps you need a new teacher…” Karintha suggested
“Evaea will be happy to expand your knowledge of stealth arts,”

Evaea’s eyes widened
<He is intolerable!> she complained telepathically to Karintha in a very rare display of anything but calm.

“I need no such instruction, like morning mist I vanish to reappear where the enemies of the Goddesses least suspect then fall upon them with the wrath of the Zenkai Thunder Demons!”

“Then prove it,” Karintha matched his arrogant tone starling the young Aethan slightly

She took a ribbon from one of her pouches, the red of her family lineage and tied it to Evaea’s hand.

“Take the ribbon from her by tomorrow morning and return it to me and you will have proven yourself worthy in the eyes of the Goddesses.”

She had barely finished talking when Maekal tried to snatch it from Evaea with a quick lunge, the Anzati trained girl deftly avoided it.

He tried again

“Give it here! a petulant task indeed,”

Evaea’s annoyance at her brother spending time with Nyaea and general distaste for Maekal ensured she would do nothing to help him.

He reached for it again, this time Evaea struck with a quick jab to his throat causing him to splutter.

“Ho’..’are…’ooo” he gasped as Karintha noticed a flicker of satisfaction in Evaea’s aura to bring the arrogant young man down a peg.

It triggered an even more ferocious game of Vorynx and Gobril that a bemused Valens watched with interest, Maekal rushing every few seconds in his frantic impatience, Evaea deftly dodging.

The pair lunged and flitted across the bay and out the main doors into the fortress proper.

“I wouldn’t have thought of that…” Valens mused after they were gone

“Nor would I expect you to,” Karintha smiled, she was Matriarch because she could see things others could not.  Evaea - raised to be utterly humble and reserved, unable to ever truly meet her Anzat ‘carers’ standards - was the perfect foil for Maekal - feted as a God never knowing defeat or denial.  And Karintha was well aware of how opposites sometimes attracted.

All this Valens finally realised.

“He won’t catch her unless she lets him...and she won’t let him,” Valens concluded

“No...not yet, but she will start to feel for him, and that is enough for now,” Karintha agreed, sliding her arm under his to walk him toward the door.

“...now there was something you wanted to show me?”
<<<<>>>>

Ari and Mili
(https://i.ibb.co/nDbz6XZ/Ari-10.jpg) (https://ibb.co/nDbz6XZ)(https://i.ibb.co/b2WV494/M-red-10.jpg) (https://ibb.co/b2WV494)
“What are they doing?” Ari asked as Maekal stumbled past on the foot worn but still uneven cave path, after the graceful, and drastically faster, Evaea who had slid along the walls like mist.

“Maybe Eva said ‘if you catch me you can have me!’” Milaea joked as they headed out of the mountain fortresses natural cavern entrance into the ravines open air for a run to the ocean and back, the 240 kilometers one way a reasonable effort for their gene-engineered legs to cover at nearly 60 kmph over forest hill and stream.

On each other their backs a small pack with food on their beachside day off cataloguing - or rather playing - with the Dathomiri collection, Ari having brought along a River Clan ‘Water Summoner’ rune to see if it worked on Aethas marine creatures.

With a hint of wish and desire Ari’s smile to Milaea’s joke took a more licentious curve than she had intended which came out in her tone.

“What do I get if I catch you?”

Milaea’s reply was equally provocative
“You’ll have to find out,”

With a burst of red energy she dashed over two hundred meters across the shrubs and boulders to the tree line, Ari quickly after her.

They raced along the main road past the village where Maeson, Yorna, Melron, Adaea and Jenaea were working on the Seventh and Eighth Obelisks for the array, spotted Lydan with his herd and Xanaea, who briefly tried to race with them before Lydan called her back to feed the calves - which for Xani involved copious patting of the cuddly furred gormin.

Milaea’s lead was lost quickly as they passed the old Guardian training grounds, unable to keep herself from looking through the trees to the clearing where Jarys fought a losing battle against Taran’s amnesia.

She felt for both them, but also herself.  

Their relationship had been good for such a long time, Jarys like an older protective brother to her...but the incident with the twins had exposed unresolved discomfort between a daughter who already had a father, and a father who never got a chance to parent his daughter.

Head snapping round to see Ari about to catch her, her issues with Jarys seemed an issue for another time.

With another space folding shunt Milaea surged ahead into the hour long run to the shores, the roads becoming ever more overgrown as they reached areas long since left to the elements after the Devastation, Ari constantly nipping at her heels but never quite catching up, till over the last few hills the sea breezes struck Milaea head on with a cool salty tang form the blue and pink hued waters that lapped in rose coloured froth against fawn white sands pecked at by coastal bird life, flabby marine mammals basking on a rocky reed just off shore.

Taking in the sight even for a micro second was all the delay needed for Ari to scoop her up, toppling them both over and down the hill into the soft yielding sands, rolling about each other in laughter, birds squawking and taking to flight as they fumbled about.

Coming to a stop Ari looked down on Milaea, both their hearts squeezing, thin glazes of sweat across them filling their super human olfactory senses with an unconcealed hormonal image of the other, their thermal senses seeing the heat distribution across each others form shift from the muscles used in running to…

With an embarrassed sigh Ari rolled off staring into the teal tinged sky peppered with the dull whites of the most prominent of the Gigantic Stars of the deep core that could be seen on clear days as this.  

They lay beside each other on the warm sands long enough for the bird to return to their picking through the wave washed shore for molluscs and worms, finally rising to satiate their own hunger after the four hour run.

Finding a shaded alcove on the low rock hills further down the beach they set up a little camp, deciding to spend the night rather than try and run back when the Vorynx and Volurks might be out in the unpopulated sections of the Valley they had run through - even for trained Guardians the fauna of Aethas were a very real threat.

After their lunch they stripped off all but the essentials to swim out as far as the reefs where the Godobenus, tusked marine mammals basked in the sun and occasionally jostled for dominance on the higher corals.

The younger of the mammals cautiously swam near the women under the watchful gaze of the herd mothers, some old enough to remember the Aethans from before and uncertain why they had been absent so long.

They splashed played for hours, diving deep and far along the reefs populated by a kaleidoscope of corals, fish, cephalopods and more, all using some for of the aether to hunt, hide and survive - an entire galaxy of diverse life in the space of barely 5 kilometers of water.

Finally tired out they headed up to their alcove, the setting sun and night breeze only slowly drying them before starting a fire and warming their dinner as the sparkling stars and nebula lit the sky with just as many colours as beneath the waves.

Yet so many of these sights were only observed by half their full minds, the women's prime focus always on the other, catching the other's figure as she glided through the waters, the tossle of her hair as it was shaken dry, the heart squeezing thrill as they changed clothes.

And always the uncertain pause both found themselves in, wondering if they should say, or do something more, unsure what the reaction would be, tense and afraid to try, yet desperate to act.

Conversation centered on the sights of the day, the complexity of the physical and aetheric ecosystem, how intricate yet simple the natural world about them was, and the freedom of their day off, no wars to fight, no objects to catalogue, Obelisks to program or enchantments to craft, no signals to chase after, no rapacious and enraged People to leash…

Neither begrudged any of those tasks, but still a break like this, the freedom to just be Ari and Mili - and especially to be so together - had been sorely needed.

The night wore on and the conversation died down, the moon passing low on the horizon bouncing off the waves in siler streams as the warm yellow of the fire lit each woman's face from below as they lounged opposite each other.

For a long time the only sound was the crackle of the fire as they looked at each other, then looked away, Ari idly brushing her link orbs to check if anyone had signalled them.

“Anything?” Milaea asked

“No, but they’d hardly use orb anyway, close enough for telepathy,”

Ari’ fingers lingered on one orb at the center of the carefully woven pouch that held five.

“Is that for your parents?”

Ari nodded feeling still nothing but cold static in the aether link it held with its pairs across the galaxy.

“Have you spoken to them recently?” Milaea asked, sitting up.

“No...I couldn’t get a connection on Dathomir - I think the Ichor Magic blocks or scrambles other types of Aether based offworld communication...nothing since then.”

Ari paused expression suddenly solemn as she stared out into the ever darker ocean as the moon set.

“To tell the truth I’ve been putting it off…”

Concern on her face Milaea shifted closer to Ari
“Why?”

“I…” her aqua eyes dodged the question in Milaea’s sea green.

“I’m afraid...of what they’ll see…”  she shuffled to the edge of the overhang, lifting her hands and staring at them as a faint purple flickered beneath her skin as she breathed in the Aether and cool ocean air.

“I’ve changed since I left, seen, learned and done so much...some of which I don’t think they would be proud of…”

Ari had left Saani and Kazic a girl, fleeing from the snarl of Anson D’Aklon sheltered by the adamantium wings of Kiraea, Valens and Jarys.  

She was a Woman now, who made peace with her losses from the Devastation, searched the galaxy wide for survivors, helped the Dathomiri break the shackles of a Tyrant, dealt a blow to the despicable Hutt Flesh-Crafters…

...wreaked vicious havoc upon Outsiders, slaying Revenant Shades and a Banshee, cold justice exacted on those who had killed poor Myri, in heated fury broken scores of Ciy'Keueketka, cut down dozens of Dathomiri Reapers in a war that was not her own.

Which of these two sides would her adoptive parents see? Saani and Kazic had always insisted they would be proud of and support her no matter what, but could they truly when they didn’t understand what it was to be Aethan, when they held fast to such noble Gray Jedi morals themselves that Ari could never adopt?

Those thoughts and feelings flowed freely between the women, even as the emotions that might bring so much more solace remained hidden.

Milaea felt a sting of discomfort in both stomachs reminded of her moment earlier in the day - Ari feared her parents would see she had grown to become too Aethan.  

Milaea feared Jarys thought she was not Aethan enough, and knew she would not, - after all the compromises of her former beliefs so easily made - wish to face the scrutiny of her Father Soryu.  

Both daughters sat in statue silence before a tepid goodnight, both feeling they’d somehow missed an opportunity.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 01, 2021, 05:34:44 AM
Chapter 42 — The Black Obelisk — Part 3

Avatar

The tunnel was completely dark, Karintha relied on her echo location and mass senses to guide her way forward till they came to what seemed a dead end.

“Here,” Lyaea said passing her hand over the ‘rock’ that was in fact yorik Coral, an embedded vong biot tasted the oils of her skin, analysed the flakes of hyper-keratin to identify her and whorled open.

They were deep beneath a spent volcano island just off the Jungle isles where the Extolled had made their abode on Aethas, soon after returning Lyaea had come to her privately with Valens, there was something that Karintha, as Matriarch needed to know.

There should be no secrets among the People, but this was less secrecy than, as Lyaea explained it, ‘A few people don’t really need to know…’ - meaning Milaea, Sofa and to a degree Aresaea.

Behind the Yorik Coral was a glow of bioluminescent greens and yellow typical of Yuuzhan Vong interiors.  Deep green almost black vine hung from the ceiling of the cavernous space, ahead a jittering short Extolled leapt up and rushed forward, stopping just short of Lyaea to bang his head on the yorik coral ground.

This was not a mere kowtow, this was an impact that left his forehead bleeding

“Avatar, Glorious Avatar, My Salvation who fulfils the Izai!”

Izai - if Karintha’s overhearing of their language was accurate - meant promise, or rather the essence of a promise of - not prescribing its exact delivery.

“Sha grunnik ith-har Yun-Shuno!” he prayed to her

“Wnnask,” Lyaea cooed bending slightly to pat the creatures head
“I’ve brought someone for you to meet.”

‘Wnnask’ looked up and Karintha felt a momentary revulsion, even greater than she experienced upon the sight of any Outsider.

On his forehead beneath the blood was an Aethan Triquetra, on each cheek, not tattooed but actually scarred, were images, Adaea on the right, Lyaea on the left.

As he shambled up she saw a purple scarified image of all the ’Avatars’ upon his naked chest.  His legs were unnaturally short, she realised they had been cut off above the knees and now Raddanks - crustacean symbiotes - took the place of his lower legs.

<Wnnask was a shamed one,> Karintha deduced

<A former shaper he had the hots for a female priest in the Main fleet..across caste frelling is a big no no, and she didn’t like him anyway...so instead he decided to use little Vong mites to collect bio samples and grow his own lover - inventing a kind of cloning mechanism to do it...the other shapers and priests didn’t like that sacreligious innovation. They found him unholying the vegetative holy cloned body - they cut off everything that he didn’t need to toil in the Blorch vats> Lyaea explained in the space of half a second.

Wnnask oblivious to the telepathic conversation looked at Karintha directly, obviously he already knew Valens.

“Avatar! Glory to the gods!,”

“Glory, and honour to you Wnnask,” Karintha replied genially, clearly the creature was not psychologically stable, but responded positively to Lyaea’s gentle treatment.

Wnnask instantly dropped to bash his head on the ground again
“You honour this unworthy one Avatar, the Hrosha-Gulthe Hrosha-gul
The ‘price of pain’ no doubt his belief in pain as a sign of life and gift of the gods somehow mingled into his zealous flagellations.

“Why don’t you show Karintha your special task,” Lyaea suggested.

Needing no further encouragement he rushed to the back of the dingy humid laboratory where there were twenty four creamy sacs in bone cradles against the yorik coral wall, each of differing sizes with pinkish fluid pulsing inside like the beating of an inelegant human heart.

“These ones grow...they grow...I made the qua, made the qua!” he said astounded at his own genius - given the restrictions on innovation among the Vong Karintha understood his excitement.
“None take it from me here...no...the Avatar, blessed Avatar!”

<I assume his talents exceed his rambling> Karintha noted with a hint of humour
<Of course... these are Vong equivalents of cloning pods. The Extolled will not live as long as us, and their numbers diminsh with every battle - this is my solution, we clone two dozen of the most capable and zealous of them, Wnnask is devising a way to use the Vaa tumour that stores Shaper data to store memories and implant it into fully formed adult bodies>

Karintha’s eyes lit up with ambition
<Ingenious...a Vong army>
<More large retinue...the process is slow and scale is difficult to achieve -perhaps producing two dozen every three or four years at the current rate,>

<Still a valuable asset,> Karintha accepted the limitations

<But why did I not know of this until now?> she asked turning to Lyaea, the speed of their telepathy so fast barely second had passed for Wnnask.

Lyaea gave a tight smile
<Well this was my big reveal if I became Matriarch…>

That was interesting, Karintha knew before she had been resurrected the two candidates were Lyaea and Milaea, but as the youngest, the naughtiest, she had never thought Lyaea took the race seriously.  

Lyaea’s fickle nature hid a sharp mind - and sharper ambition.

Lyaea could hear the unconcealed thoughts of Karintha
<I always had my mother, brother and Adaea’s support, Kiraea would always prefer someone against Outsiders...I just needed an extra arrow to my quiver to get the others over the line...and offer a real alternative to Milaea’s koom-baya approach>

<And you supported her all this time,> Karintha looked to Valens now

<I love Milaea as a little sister, her compassion has place - but Lyaea knows the truth of the galaxy as we do,>

<I assume Sofa doesn't know either> Karintha replied, knowing such an effort might cause tension with his former Jedi wife - less for the cloning than not supporting Milaea whom Sofa considered her closest sister.

<Jarys does, that is all, Kiraea thinks too loudly...> Valens explained  

Satisfied she turned back to the sacs leaning forward to see the hint of s silhouette in the bloody pink fluid she vaguely recongized as conforming to Yhums profile.

“Yhum?” She asked Wnnask

“Yes!” Wnnask beamed his smile creasing the facial scars of the Avatars disturbingly.

“The Strongest and most loyal and even...this pathetic one! Pah!” he spat.

“You are cloning yourself…” Karintha realized

“I am unworthy!” he pleaded piteosuly “Yet the avatar insisted,”

“The Avatar is wise,” Karintha consoled, “You are a loyal servant, and in this way you will serve again and again into eternity,”

Despite the revulsion of his race and features she lowered to meet him at eye level.  She was Matriarch and that required her to be at the forefront of Outsider relations, as she had on Dathomir so here she would honey her words when needed.

“With all you have sacrificed across the whole span of your life, you are the most honoured our Our servants,” Karintha cooed to the wretched things whose eyes turned glassy with tears of fanatical joy.

A little preening to the easily convinced creature would pay great dividends as Lyaea had learned - indeed she had proven competencies a matriarch must possess, that Karintha respected enough to consider her a possible second.

Wnnask joy could hardly be contained, he trembled in righteous glee

“I will work to prove your words true, every day and night!” he insisted.

She knew he would.  

The Fantatacism of this Extolled would be the foundation upon which the Peoples Vong Retinue - from now until the Extra Galactic Invasion itself - was built.

<<<<<>>>>>

 
Matchmaking

Maekal possessed few endearing traits.  Perseverance was perhaps one of them as he leapt indolently again and again trying to grab the ribbon as the time ticked down.

He’d chased her across half the valley over the last day and night, learning, if slowly how to catch up and seek her out - still far from enough to actually obtain the ribbon from her, but an impressive amount nonetheless.

Evaea jumping from one outcrop to the other in the narrow defile avoiding him was amazed he hadn’t given up after the first few hours.

But the more time she had to think amidst the meditative glide away from his grasping hands the more she understood him from the blunt thoughts that bubbled off him.

He had never needed to prove himself in his old life, was afforded the faux respect of adoration for his ‘divine’ status not for who he was or what he had done.

For the first time he had a chance to be honoured for genuine success against real challenges, and to his credit he wanted to succeed, to earn respect - even though his constant ranting and raving indicated otherwise.

“I shall not be defeated, I am...a God…” his voice was now croaky from nearly 42 hours of constant yammering on his divine attributes and bizarre mythical analogies, some of which she had to admit were terribly comical, comparing a mesa to the ‘Manhood of Mahhud the Mighty,’ and a stream populate with Vosis he managed to fight through in her first real attempt to through him off as as ‘gross as the great Birthing Canal of Ech’idna birthing monsters by the score!’

Maekal had one eye on the sun about to complete its rise and deny him his victory, the other on the object of his desire, his body and with one last furious attempt in his body.  

Filling his hands with the aether he clawed like Bastet up the rocks, drilling his fingers into the raw rock then pouncing like a feline at her fast as he could

Evaea as always dodged effortlessly leaving him to smash into the rock face and tumble down as the sun rose ending his challenge in failure.

She waited for the tantrum.

He pushed up on his hands and knees face long and seeming on the point of crying…

Then stood and wandered groggily to the defile exit.

“You’re leaving?” she said finally.

He shrugged not turning,
“I have failed, I must return to my studies…”

His indifference so at odds with his usual bluster was galling. Evaea gently leapt down from her perch, feeling a sense of, astonishingly, empathy, for him.  She too had never truly met Sensei’s expectations, knew how that dour walk back to the dojo felt.  

“Wait…”

She had been nothing but a servant and meal to Sensei, here she was lauded and honoured as a peerless assassin, for Maekal it was the exact opposite, he had gone from being praised and glorified daily, to the butt of jokes and withering glances.

He turned and for the first time in the shadow of the sun's rosy glow he saw not the petulant boy he so often was but the future potential of a man he might yet be.

For a brief moment she contemplated giving him the ribbon to return triumphant…

She held it more tightly and pocketed it instead, this was a lesson he needed still.

“Your effort were not…poor...and I...look forward to seeing what you learn from this,”

Given an inch Maekal took a parsec.

“I will exceed all my bounds! Ascend the mountain of potential and crush it underfoot!”

Well...he recovers quickly she mused.

Maekal rushed straight back to Mount Aelia to rejoin Valens for training, past Evyn and Nyaea just outside as the meek girl still struggled to get into any kind of marital training.

“Sock him!” Xani called feet dangling off a high rock as she watched the pair in a clearing near the Mountain Fortress natural entrance.

Nyaea in a trembling fighting stance fists protecting her head tried to summon the will to strike Evyn who stood undefended.

“It’s alright, I can take it…” he assured her.  Nyaea was a nice girl, so nice it had taken much convincing to have her hit even a punching bag, he’d taught her a few kata’s already and she showed all the People genetic aptitude but still found actual contact difficult.

Sharp short breaths she held her breath as she punched forward.

The blow on his chest was little more impactful than a falling leaf and she pulled her fist back faster than he could have caught.

“That’s good,” he assured
“A little harder next time,”
“Yeah knock him out Nya I know you can do it!” Xani encouraged
She tried again...and again...each time only marginally stronger, but losing some fear of it at least.

She could do this...she wouldn’t hurt Evyn, he was a strong young man, trained as an Anzati assassin after all!

“Ok try for number four really hard this time,”

Nyaea nodded and wound her arm up, Xani leaning forward to see…

The blow smacked Evyn off his feet, his head spinning half round.

Nyaea’s hands covered her mouth from screaming then she leapt to his side

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head and clasped her hands in his

“No, no it was perfect…”

“You’re...you’re not hurt…”

He got back up guiding her as well

“No...you should always hit like that…,” he dusted himself off
“...It makes me happy to know you can protect yourself when I’m not here,”

The implication of protectiveness came unbidden, unexpected to even Evyn, yet felt so natural, Nyaea looked askance and felt her heart squeeze.

“Kids…” Melron sighed happily as he walked along a natural balcony having observed them all.

“It’s good to see them out and about, so free…” Kassyndra behind him commented as she came out of the upper cavern entrance.
“...give me hope...Taryn and Lya, Evyn and Nya, Jenaea and Maeson, even maybe Evaea and Maekal…”

“Your granddaughter and Aresaea?” Melron smiled tuning toward her

“If their trip to the beach is anything like the ones I had when younger…” she smiled leaning on a flat portion of the natural edge around the winding balcony.

Melron chuckled at the memory, how the young betrothed couples would visit the beaches in the summer...Goddesses those were the days…

But the shadow of the loss of those times fell quickly on him, his own wife Illaea so long gone, Kassyndra’s husband Davyyn and her daughters…

They still had each other.

“Why don’t we go there together, like the old times?”

“Ha...well I...Truly…” she replied amused as she was uncertain, looking into the older mans face, care worn lines around eyes that had seen the death of a culture, grey peppering once red hair from 60 years of subsistence even their powerful genetics could never fully restore before that end came.

But there was hope in the eyes now, determination to see a better future built, and while those lost would never be forgotten, there was no reason she could think of not to enjoy the present with those who remained.

“...I’ll have to sew a new outfit to swim in,” she smiled,  

<<<<>>>>

 
Ari and Mili

They woke with the sun, a mist of the uncomfortable end to the evening still hanging over them through breakfast like that which hovered over the near shore - until the rosy warmth and morning bellows of the Godobenus dispelled both and they dipped into the balmy waters once more.

The sea cleansed away the worries of the things far away by focusing them on the now, splashing and twisting beneath choppy motions, riding the waves onto the shore in tumbles and laughter.  

They spent the later morning walking the entire length of the beach to the north where the jagged cliffs of the valleys upper mountains pushed into the waves that beat against the ultradense stone blades that sheltered dozens of tiny caves filled with forgotten boats and rafts once used by fishermen.

The suns heat beaming from the cloudless teal sky making the return trip far more comfortable barefoot in the splashing waves.

They watched the sway of the others walk, the occasional brush of hands as they swung wondering if they should take it but neither had the nerve to do so.

Milaea’s longer hair kept loose seemed to glow like orange embers as it trailed in the breeze drawing Ari’s gaze every few seconds even as Milaea would stare when she could at how, Ari’s slightly more tanned skin melded so perfectly with the blue pink water hues and fawn sand as to make he look as if she had lived along the shore so long she was part of it.

With every look, every ‘accidental’ touch, each wondered if they should do something more, in conversations of sand, sea and stars each looking for a hint at what the other was feeling, so unsure about revealing what they wanted themselves for fear of spoiling the moments they were sharing.

They had grown so close, so quickly, and so naturally, it was more than just shared views on Outsiders, passion for prying the secrets of the past and magical artefacts, tighter than mere friendship, and yet neither wished to imperil it by moving without knowing for sure the other felt the same.

It made for endless embarrassed giggles and askance glances until by midday their brief respite was over and they headed back.

Walking rather than a run their conversation turned to the tasks awaiting them, the next Obelisks to be installed, the likelihood of another vast swathe of legacy signals to track down,

“Perhaps, if there are any signals nearby, we could stop at Galtea,” Ari suggested as they wandered under the shade of the Obirio trees, Gosalam with their Null fields projected darted sticky tongues to catch insect deprived of their aether defences.

“Maybe even get some help from the Vhal’Dan, or my parents at least…” Ari continued hopefully

“If Saani and Kazic joined us on a rescue - they wouldn’t have any reservations about helping us against slavers or the like - and the others could see how much they are willing to help us, real friends not just servants like the Extolled…”  

“hmmm, I think we’d have to ask forgiveness rather than permission from the others…” Milaea agreed with some caveats
“You’re right though if they did join us it would be wonderful, I’m really looking forward to meeting them,”

Ari’s smile could’ve out shone the sun, Milaea’s matched until a thought of her own parents intruded.

“Sometimes I think I should skip over to Coruscant, see if...see if Dad has changed his mind…”

“You mean Soryu?”

“At Ord Mrit, I asked if he wanted to come with me...he said he wanted to keep trying to help the Jedi become better, I can’t help but wonder if that’s changed, Goddesses know what restrictions the Council have him under…”

She paused in their walk as she sensed her other Father not that far down a branching path ahead,

Ari gently held her shoulder
“I can head on alone, you should talk to him...it’s been a while,”

Pursingher lips Milaea nodded

“Ari, this little trip, I wanted to...It’s been...”

Ari put her finger on Milaea’s lips before she could thank her as if it were some favour to spend time together -Ari would not have been anywhere or with anyone else.

“I know,” she said, her hand trailing down to take Milaea’s briefly before she headed on alone.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 01, 2021, 05:39:33 AM
Chapter 42 — The Black Obelisk — Part 4

 
Jarys

“I remember this…” he said brushing the dust off the top of a book untouched since the Devastation.

“I remember every day I came here, I remember who sat where…” he gestured to the old mouldy furniture damaged where, at some point in the last 25 years the roof had leaked in the abandoned school house of the Potters village.

“But I can’t remember how I came here today or why….”

Taran flicked through the pages he had not seen for 30 or more years, words he could have recalled by rote, even the notes in the margins, yet unable to recall the slightest detail of the day before, the ache in his muscles and pink resealing scars on his hands and arms the only evidence of the yesterdays sparring with...with…

He turned round to recall who it was that was with him, Jarys...Jarys he reminded himself.

That at least, Jarys thought, was an improved, albeit a hard fought one.

“How can I perform my role, act as Guardian if I can’t remember where I am myself half the time,” Taran pleaded piteously, fists tight in frustration.

“What it means to be a Guardian is changing,” Jarys said calmly as he could for the third time in as many minutes - each time was like a practice enabling Jarys to tune his words to be that much more effective at consoling Taran.

“The People are changing, for now is enough that you can still fight as hard and long as any of us, and your instincts are sharp, you’ll know who the enemy is,”

Taran was too strong, and the People too few, not to use him in their efforts to recover more People, Jarys and Valens had already discussed Taran’s best use - for the moment - was to armour him up and set him loose with simple order to kill anything not a Person.

Taran snapped up staring at the door suddenly

“Oh Cil…” he shook his head
“No...not Cilina...it’s…”

“Milaea,” Jarys said surprised, happy and tentative

“Yes Milaea...Milaea...Milaea…” Taran repeated to himself trying to fix her image to a name, despite knowing he would forget within minutes.

Jarys had been right though, Taran’s senses were still sharp as ever and he could tell there were matters to be discussed between the pair that didn’t involve him.

“I will...see what is left in the Village Common House,” Taran said, absenting himself with a respectful nod to Milaea.

Father and Daughter stood silently for several moments.

“Any better?” Milaea finally asked of Taran.
“No worse,” was Jarys sober assessment.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” She said head bowed
“I should’ve made more time to talk after…”

He walked quietly toward her afraid to comfort his own child, but certain of one thing.
“It’s never been easy for either of us, no need to apologise,”

“But things were fine for so long until I used your feelings to - I thought I was protecting the twins - or that’s how I justified it to myself, if things hadn’t ended the way they did…”

“It doesn’t matter now, it's all over,” he assured her, hands hovering over her shoulders, just as Karintha said he waited for her to come to him, falling into his arms.

She felt only the soft protectiveness of his embrace, and felt the stabbing loss of his emotions he was denied sharing that with her for so many years.

“Why don’t you tell me,” he said after a while
“How your trip with Ari went?”

<<<<>>>>

 
Matriarch

“...and now…” Yorna pressed the Eighth Obelisk into place then braced herself.

Installing the sixth had lead to a flood of signals, overwhelming even Milaea, and leading toa six month scouring of near half the galaxy that yielded, in the end, only Oran as a real survivor, and the Rorak Twelve amidst an endless list of frustrated missed chances from decades old cries for help, and some bodies - few whole - repatriated. 

With two more Obelisks, the array was at 89 per cent operational power they had prepared for another deluge.

Everyone was at an Orb Station ready to take on some of the burden of the vast wave of expected screams, Xani and Nya working with Taran to run food and water to them on what they suspected would be days long shifts, Karintha’s husband enjoying the ebullient youngest Aethan’s company.

Xani was more than happy as always to have someone to teach all the things she had learned to…multiple times…

“He’s not well, is he Aunty?” Xani had said to Selaena in Karintha’s hearing
“The Witches hurt his mind, he forgets things,” the older woman had assured
“But he will get better.  You’re being very nice being so patient explaining things to him when he forgets.” 

Any improvement seemed marginal at best

The nearly complete array flickered alive as it swept up the currents of the Aether now and in the past as far as it could look for any trace of signals conforming to the ‘Rhythm’ of the Peoples Aether presence and key words or thoughts unique to them,

Lighting crackled across the eight monoliths, the filtering orbs to pry out distortions and unwanted waves energy ready, conversion Orbs would twist those useless signals into formless aetheric power recycled into the Obelisks as a sustainable energy source.

Karintha’s hand hovered expectantly over her own Orbs.

Then…

Nothing happened.

For aching long minutes there was nothing.
There was of course feedback, readouts indicating everything was functional, the Galactic Aetheric Map looking sharper than ever before with the additional Obelisks acting as more fixed points from which to determine the origins of the background aether flows…

But no signals.

Not one.

Shoulders sagged and faces drew long, all primed and ready for a flood the absence drowned them.   

Karintha controlled her own disappointment as she guided the People forward.

“It appears we have exhausted all the signals detectable from this location,” she spoke referring to the small planet of Aeda at the edge of the Aethas system they stood within.

“Once the final Obelisk is prepared and the Hecate ready we will begin our search of Hyperspace further out in the galaxy.”

She provided direction, focus, this was not a failure, constructing Eight Obelisks was incredible enough, a vessel to transport them and act as a mobile observatory even more so.

There was a high possibility weaker signals, and those further back in time, were simply not strong enough to have reached the deep core….she could not countenance there were no more People left to find.

She knew the disappointment could not be fully abated,

<<<<>>>>

The disappointment was like an unwanted guest lingering in the corner of the small kitchen and dining room, a late addendum to the Obelisk Array facility on the tiny planet of Aeda. 

Adaea and Yorna were still tinkering with the Obelisk settings but after so many hours it was apparent there would be no flood of distress signals.  The elder People were discussing where to focus their resources next given the absence of another rescue operation, leaving the younger waiting about uncomfortably.

“Dren to this I’m going for a spin in the Fighters,” Taryn finally announced
“Maeks, why don’t you come with can always use a moving target, and you really need the practice,”

The younger man scrunched his nose at the implied insult, a vituperative outburst on his lips restrained by looking at Evaea.

“Very well, but with each defeat you reveal more of your secrets Pirate,”

“Ooooh scary,” Taryn joked “We can make it a real dog fight if anyone else wants to come, Nerf Herder? Silky?”
Referring to Lydan and Evaea - her nickname Silky in respect to how easily she slid out of view - the others looked about and for want of anything better to do on the tiny base at the far edge of the system shuffled after Taryn.

“Can I be on your team?” Xani asked Taryn as they headed out followed by Nyaea, Evyn, Lyaea and Oran,
“Sure Niblett, we’ll make a fighter Ace of you yet…”

Leaving only Milaea and Aresaea.

“Might as well,” Mili shrugged standing up
“I guess…” Ari sighed the lack of result seeming to hit her hard
“...I’ll join you in a few minutes, might stop at the refresher,” Ari added more upbeat

“Sure,” Milaea smiled then reached out to squeeze her friends hand before parting.

Alone Ari felt the double disappointment, she had hoped a new search would provide an opportunity to stop off at Galtea, maybe even have Saani join them, at the very least introduce Milaea to her parents.

She was just about to stand when she felt a pulse on her hip in the Link Orb pouch, leaning forward she plucked out the small Oblivion Marble with trepidation and joy mingled in the squeeze of her heart, mind pushing along the Unique Aether channel that connected the Aura’s of the two beings on each end to communicate across an entire galaxy through the infinite Force.

“...Kazic?...”

Relief mingled with a deep and strange mix of emotions from the Anzat as the image of each other clarified in their minds as if they were in a small room together.

“Ari…Dear One.”  He let out a quiet breath.  “…I…I am so sorry that I haven’t contacted you before now; I…I was afraid to worry you…”

Worry me… she might have found the irony almost humorous were she not feeling more with each passing moment how wracked with distress his very soul was.

“What’s wrong…?”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on September 05, 2021, 01:43:06 AM
Back to Aethas, displaying both idyllic scenery as well as scenes.  

A bit more detail with Aethan socio-political relationships, especially with just how determined Karintha is in becoming the People's Matriarch: a (welcome!) surprise with just how subtle the complexities are when it comes to the ebb and flow of alliances, especially intricate despite the relatively small populace.  And it seems that Karintha's long-term plans of the People align with the general xenophobia of the majority (I'm forced to wonder--given what we do know about Aethans in the "Present Timeline"--what mitigates that OR if her objectives are more covert; literally time will tell  ;)), which seems to underscore the two polar ideologies concerning Outsiders (Kiraea's Isolationism vs. Miliaea's Tolerance) skewed towards the former over the latter.

However, there are currents below the currents: Karintha is now engaged in secrets being kept from even other Aethan women.  In theory, being a collective, one would think that anathema for People; in practice, it demonstrates the complexities within the social- and societal-strata as the endangered species fights for not only survival but (and this is extremely important given Aethan genetic prerogative) also dominance.  Karintha's deft manipulation of the Shamed Ones in general and Wnnask in particular is the perfect example of her agenda: she will do whatever necessary to ensure the proliferation of her race, whatever the cost.  Valens in his military role as Warchief now has the diametric balance of Karintha as Matriarch...and there is enough known about her that we do NOT know everything...

One thing for certain: Karintha understands the intricacies of Aethan courting and pairing.  While an absolute necessity given the limited populace, her choices show not only a shrewd judge of character but also the pragmatism of the realist.  Even Maekel's pompous facade isn't immune to her careful designs (to say nothing of separating the Twins to instigate interpersonal relationships outside their own sibling-centric upbringing).  It is an illuminating chapter for our extended Aethan cast.

Contrasting this though we see the truly beautiful and burgeoning relationship developing between Ari and Mili in some wonderfully organic scenes (literally as well as literarily).  Who can blame the two of them being so tentative, so careful, so diffident?  What has become so obvious to everyone surrounding them is a trial that the two young women have little-to-no experience with (ironic given that they're both veterans of numerous battles, engagements, etc).  Seeing their feelings for one another deferred--the moment having past without being seized--is as heartbreaking as it is compelling.  With fighting in their past and more to come in their future, one hopes that they are able to come together in happiness with one another.  Speaking of the future...

Ari's call from Kazic is as bittersweet as the realization of its impetus: it is the harbinger of not only future calamities but also (and more saddening) concerning their imminent personal tragedies.  Yet, there is more to the story than we've seen thus far...

It is as compelling as it is tragic: a daughter's realization that her father has feet of clay, leading to their own schism...

P.S.  Absolutely fantastic rendering by FT of the Hecate!!!  It's pictures like these that really show the incredible benefits (and luck!) of collaboration between our Forumverse artists  :)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 15, 2021, 02:02:18 AM
Remnant — Part 6 — Vigilance — Part 1
Seventh
The burst of gas from decompression was short-lived.  There were no workers here that required a constant artificial atmosphere. 

Automated alerts brought floating repair droids that were quickly shot down with EMPs then carefully bundled by the thick plate armoured Hastati who appeared an anachronism even in this outdated place.

Detecting a hostile intrusion rather than mere accident the Mining Guild 59-O Facility overmind activated its small complement of 40 Battle droids and 12 Droidekas to walk across the face of the vast asteroid free floating between systems, rich in Doonium and carbonite, and eliminate the hostile. 

Six Vulture droids were loosed from the free floating cradles beside the dock where the automated loader was drinking in raw ores.

Seventh stood along as they rounded the horizon of the asteroid.  Their second rate sensors failed to detect him.

With six quick shots from his recently repaired Gauss rifle he brought down the irritating vessels, the Blackstone projectiles ripping their durasteel apart.

The Battle droids arrived to find the EV equipped hastati ready in ambush positions in hollows of the asteroid where micro fragments had left craters centuries before.

Their fire distracted the Droids as Seventh strode forth, the Droidekas rolled up and activated shields only to find themselves balled into a quarter of their previous volume by Seventh’s telekinetic grip.

He was quick and methodical, a personality disposition carried over from his prior life, before the blinding flash of smoke and fire, the icy screech of machine and needle, the heated pulse of bones growing out for dimension in furiously convulsing skin that was his second birth to the ranks of Project Aertemisaea

The droids fired at the target whose dimensions exceeded humanoid standards, His Shatter-Sword blocked their red blasts and a single thought sent them flying off the surface, easy prey for the Hastati.

Skeletal and bone white the wretched smallness of the battle droids aesthetic situated only a vague sense of disgust in a brain argely shorn of all but combat essential emotional capacity - a feature by design and necessity as so very much of who he once was had died in that first death.

He shouldered them aside as he proceeded deeper in the airless service corridors that could barely contain his height. 

Few of the others could remember anything of their prior lives, or perhaps simply did not dwell on factors irrelevant to Purgatio Astra.

For Seventh those few scattered ghosts of life before Reactivation were important to retain - they had to remember the perfect society for which Purgatio Astra was devised to make room for.

A brief surge of neural activity considered the inherent futility of Purgatio Astra in the absence of the Aethan species - so far they had no evidence any others Aethans survived. 

The cold demands of the hypno programming undertaken during his Reactivation quickly removed the thought permanently.

Seventh returned to his clinical elimination of the Battle droids moving through gallery after airless gallery in the mine careful to leave the blocky doids that mined the doonium intact, until he reached the Droid Control centre.

Six Drodeka’s unleashed a rain of blaster bolts.  He froze them mid air and smashed their momentum back into their shields, the Droids combat processors struggling to comprehend the absolutely unprecedented data they were receiving as a vast solid creature launched upon them, by hand tearing out their motivators in fractions of a second.

The Strategroid left exposed it blurted it's finally binar distress signal into the cold emptiness of space a nanosecond before the Oblivion blade celved it into chunks.

<Location 3 Secure> Fourth communicated
<Location 2 Secure> Fifth Added.

Seventh checked his surroundings, no more sign of resistance.
<Location 1 Secured>

Barely an hour and the facility along with three haulers filled with raw doonium rich ores was theirs.

<<<<<>>>>

Teshk
The Cult of the Shadow Lords was growing.

Chancellor Teshk had lived a long time for a Prakthian, over 50 years, serving the Over-Kings Gar-Kiou-Zan II and his son Gar-Kiou-Zan III pretenders of the ancient Sith throne, both lacking even a trace of the old Powers and Alchemical knowledge of their more illustrious forebears.

He had watched with the same resigned indifference as Pakith slid slowly closer to the barbaric tendencies of the denizens of Mamzer and the deeper core mining outposts, albeit dressed in tarnished finery.

That was all over now, the Shadow Lords had killed Gar-Kiou-Zan III and brought life to Prakith, with new Legions expanded its demesne to over two dozen deep core colonies, outposts and stations, culled the old aristocracy whose heads adorned pikes on the repaired and enhanced Eternal Fortress, and replaced them with those of proven merit to staff new governmental positions in education, health care and improved hygiene.

The provision of such basic things had gained them a near fanatical following.

As he passed through the Civilian Governance wing of the Fortress he saw the change in the face of dozens of new menials and bookkeepers crowding once empty halls, faces flush and almost healthy as farm output on the colonies increased, still not enough after the Legions ration was taken, yet still over half as many calories per day addition.

A number of the menials wore the symbol of the Shadow Lords around their neck - a simple Triquetra of black. 

The Lords did not claim divinity from on high, nor authority from the mantle of the Sith Over Kings of old. Teshk knew they cared not for the worship of their admirers, but nor did they act to discourage it, it was merely another tool in their rule.

Remembrancers, Documentists, and Statisticians bowed before him as he walked, some muttering the unofficial prayer
“Shadow Keep You” as they trembled before his new staff of office.

It was a simple thing of long unadorned brass, with curving claw-like fingers at the top clutching an Orb of deepest black, mined from the key world of Providence, the source of the one item the Shadow Lords truly valued - the ultradense mineral Blackstone.

They ruled through the provision of tangible benefits in a cynical trade - obey and serve and we will ensure you are fed and protected - arguably the basis of every State Teshk had read of in the old histories - the unadorned purity of it here was refreshing.
 
At the center of the concourse linking the many vaulted stone tunnel like halls was one of now dozens of the device crafted from this rare substance.

The Plinth stood two meters high, plain and rectangular barely the width of a man's body.  Atop it, seeming to gaze down around it with an infinity of eyes equal to the number of sides was a head sized perfect Blackstone  Orb that floated an inch from the top of he plinth.

For Teshk it had a troubling anthropomorphic silhouette, the body and head of a man rigid and shorn of all features.

Teshk had been instructed as a priority to personally oversee the plinths placement in all centers of administration across the demesne. 

The trip had taken the better part of eight months, unveiling before crowds ‘gathered’ by the Legions in front of ancient Court houses on agri worlds, in the main transit hub of Space stations older than the First Republic - or on one moon the Space Port - the only man made structure - the symbol of their new rulers beneficence.

While most of the gathered onlookers were sheepish, pushed in by the Velites and Hastati or pulled in by the promise of extra Caloric-Portions, all felt awe struck once a plinth was unveiled, its nefarious mass undeniable in dragging all eyes and bodies toward it.

The Plinth here in the eternal Fortress always gathered a group of worshipers, muttering pointless oaths to their masters. At this late hour there were six, each lighting a fatty blue flame candle to join the dozens of others melted around the Plinths base from previous days.

He would have to task someone to clean that, Teshk mused as he passed.

The Old Overkings never inspired such reverence, despite their pompous doling of demesnes to the nobility and baroque armour - Shadow Lords in addition to their terrifying size and adorned light eating armour they delivered tangible benefits of food, literacy and basic infrastructure - running purified water, Cryo warehouses for foods on far flung stations to avoid shortages, employment in the new factories and mines paid in the simple Silver Drachma of Prakith that for once had value.

Even so as she sat behind his desk, the ‘Urgent Tray’ once more full he knew not all were devout worshippers or connected atheist servants like himself.

The top document was the weekly list of ‘subversives’ under surveillance, grainy picts beside brief bios and updates on latest activities along with two options for him to mark with his Seal of Office, a blood red ink Triquetra.

Eliminate
Observe
Prakith had come so far so quickly under the Shadow Lords, he would not allow those gains to be lost.  If that required his vigilance and the occasional removal of fanatics who till believed in the ‘Sith Gods’ or displaced former nobility stirring up trouble, it was a price he gladly paid for the benefit of the majority.

He considered each and every case, some had been under observation for years now, others were people he knew personally.

Teshk did not relish stamping ‘Execute’ but as Chancellor that was his burden on behalf of the Shadow Lords, and far less gruesome than the bloody Noble house feuds that had preceded them.

With a resigned sigh he closed the folder and placed in his Completed tray, catching briefly his own wrinkled reflection in the polished brass pitcher.

“Shadows Will be Done,” he let go of the black task taking the next folio.

<<<<<>>>>

Ninth
Aethani Invicta….Gloria in Excelsis Aethani….Nulli deus, nulli dominus, Aethani genus dominus…

The signal repeated every 3 Asecs - or 0.3 seconds in the neurologically slow Outsider measurement, from the torso sized orb that hovered over the podium in the center of the vast chamber of what would be the Obelisk Array.

The first large device Ninth had fashioned from the mined Blackstone was the Beacon Orb to communicate with any other survivors.

So far they had been met with only silence in response to the broadcast across Technocracy Aetheric channels.  It was becoming increasingly likely that they were the only ones left.

Regardless Purgatio Astra continued unabated, resources plundered from seven Mining Guild locations off the Byss Run toward Teta had increased productivity drastically, with minimal losses of their Prakthian thralls.

Of course they now fully expected the Mining Guild would now respond forcefully as half their outermost mining facilities had been captured and looted.

For Ninth it served only as further opportunity to expand their resources, her entire will driven by the Technocracy plans engraved in her mind as part of her psy-conditioning ‘Reactivation’.

They had been created specifically to automatically compute all strategic variables and possibilities, to plan ahead for any eventuality that would interfere with Purgatio Astra

They would preemptively strike the Empress Teta System itself, the heart of the Mining Guilds operations in the area.

Once they had the resources to do it.

By the time the rest of the Mining Guild could muster a greater response - of which there was only a 54.9 per cent probability - there was a 45.1 per cent chance they would cut their losses and abandon the deep core mining project entirely - The Prakith Fleet and Legions would be ready - but more than that the ultimate weapon would be fully operational.

A Complete Obelisk Array.

Any Guild or Tetan counter attack would fall prey to the first full activation of the arrays Short Range Weapons capacity - Namely a Mental Oppression and Dominance wave capable of enthralling all but the most stern of limited Outsider minds.  Ster resistance would be met with a more blunt response in the form of Aether teleportation of a nuclear bomb onto their vessels.

Of course such an attack required an abundance of Aetheric Energy, more than She and her squad could muster.

Striding through the bare metal corridors of the Bunker - ornamentation and cladding were unnecessary - aesthetics were an irrelevance to Purgatio Astra , she was greeted by bows from the Triarii, silent as she stood beside Third and Sixth in the Command Center.

‘Providence’ as the helots called DC_10004568 had become a key staging post as well as mine due to the difficulties the Prakith vessels had transporting Blackstone through hyperspace, it’s weight and the…effect it had on the crews meant for now large amounts could not be shifted offworld.

As a result for the most part they now operated out of the vast Plutoras Bunker beneath Providence, returning to Prakith at random times to ensure the Chancellor and the new Meritocracy did not have any chance to forget whom they served.

And they served in far more ways than they knew.

For every Oblivion Plinth erected across the Kingdom, there was an Aetheric-Quantum twin in the Bunker. 

The Pliths were in essence a single cohesive structure in the aether, the mundanity of physical distance between baryonic components an irrelevance.

This allowed all the Aether energy the Plinths were passively harvesting from the humans and sub-humans they now ruled to be channeled into the Obelisk Arrays Energy Sinks with barely a fraction of loss.

She gazed upon their Kingdom from the view screens as Third and Sixth continued their tasks maintaining and monitoring the transmission of the energies,

She saw far more than the petty humans could imagine.  Not just mass, thermal signatures and electromagnetic wavelengths their undeveloped senses could not imagine, but the flow of pure aetheric energy.

With an effective range of just over 200 meters they had placed the Plinths at communal nexi, many of the deluded humans even worshipped at them bringing more energy in, even so, the process was slow, the Aether potential of each human was paltry at best and the Plinth could only extract some 5 per cent of that per second in active range.

Every Oblivion Plinth across their growing Kingdom was subtly harvesting Aether energies from nearby populations, turning it into a more ‘useful’ form then channeling it back to the Obelisks under construction here.

The process was slow but inevitable, and once they controlled Teta- a world of 2 billion sentients, all their resources would increase exponentially.

“Progress,” she demanded

“4.3 Billion Aeths,” Sixth Replied immediately his cold mind, a medic if she recalled before Reactivation, always steeped in detail.

“Average accumulation 400 Aeths per second,”

Another 160 days or so until the Obelisk array was fully charged...the petty scattered populations of their Kingdom were a handbrake on progress.  Each member of her Squad boasted an average Aeth level of 10.5 million, a maximum output of 90,000 per second before deleterious effect commenced. 

Ideally they would charge the Obelisks themselves by taking shifts between recovery...But that was ot possible.

Some how their Reactivation had...changed...the type of Aetheric power they were able to draw on, they operated on a non-standard frequency that was incompatible with the type of energy the Obelisk Array design implanted in their hypno programming required. 

This was no an oversight, so much as an unexpected eventually.  Purgatio Astra was not meant to be achieved by her and the other Reactivated Aertemisaean’s alone, it was as with all things a project for the whole Aethan Technocracy.

Her squad's role was to enact the groundwork and protect the Technocracy while the once living prepared the Arrays.

In the absence of any other Aethan survivors Ninths task was to achieve Purgatio Astra with whatever resources could be acquired.

“Commence a preliminary test  that risks the use of no more than half a billion Aeths.” she ordered curtly.

“Confirmed,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 15, 2021, 02:03:47 AM
Remnant — Part 6 — Vigilance — Part 2

Ar’On’Dir

Swinging his feet onto the cold concrete floor, his bed stinking from months in between washes to save on the water rations - the vast majority of the scant water on the planet diverted to cooling the antiquated generators and mining equipment, he threw on his grimy work overalls that felt squishy and too comfortable.

A shard of mirror showed a face he barely recognized, gaunt and unkempt.  Maker, not even his own wife Ho’Li would recognize him...let alone…

He bit back the thought that could only lead to more depression. 

The last transmission he had received had been congratulations from Jo that Ho’Li had a daughter, no doubt named for her grandmother Ha’Ona...he didn’t know how long he had been toiling in mines on Prakith and now Providence, he guessed around ten years.

The one thing he did know, and the one thing that kept him going was the certainty that, whatever the Shadow Lords were building with the ultradense ores that chewed through diamond blades to cut was Wrong.

Wrong not because of its light and Force sucking properties that rendered it an abyssal terror to hold, and had driven dozens of his workers to become gaunt shadows of men as it osmotically ate their Force essence - unfortunate as that was it was a natural occurrence, no more conscious than radiation in harming flesh.

The Wrongness was in the intent that hovered around the whole project, he could feel in the Song a steady rising beat, like a growing army of boots marching with single minded purpose to kill and destroy for no true reason but mechanically instinctive impulse.   
 
The few times he had encountered the Shadow Lords since his memory returned he had to suppress his presence in the force. 

They were powerful Force wielders, not dark, something far more primal, and yet hauntingly mechanical and detached.

They were alive, but their Souls were somehow….. 

In truth he had no words to describe what they were, perhaps Odjina could learn more if Aron could ever get in contact with him.

He had tried several times to reach out in the force to his family, to his mentors and friends...but the Blackstone ate the Force energies he exuded, sinking them into the black bones of the planet's crust. 

It was a struggle to not lose himself fully in the light and soul eating material.

Today though...today had to be different.

Out of the dorms he passed the sick Plinth feeling both its pull and it's growing power.

The Plinth stood at the entrance to the mines in front of the dorms, the featureless symbol of the Shadow Lords that watched, and consumed them Shift in and out.

Ar’On’Dir saw the sight every shift before he descended to the depths of ‘Providence’ to help mine the nefarious plinth was comprised of.

For three years he had laboured under the invisible yoke of the Shadow Lords of Prakith, slowly regaining his memory of who he was and what he had lost, and being driven slowly insane by the monotony and loneliness of his lot.

But as he stepped across the flattened earth that groaned as tugs landed empty and clanking wheeled trucks dragged slabs of black material, he knew his role as a Knight, as a man, was to stop whatever wrongness - for there was not enough moral agency in the Shadow Lords to be classed as evil - was being built.

 The only vessels that came and went from this world for the last two and a half years - apart from troop transports - were the clunky slaved haulers on a loop with the drydock above - none of which even had atmosphere making that an impossible escape route.

The technology in the Kingdom of Prakith remained - in spite of the Shadow Lords efforts - embarrassingly rudimentary and ramshackle - at best several decades older than he was, and interplanetary communications devices few and far between, and incredibly none had a holonet connection.

There was only one reliable offworld comms device on the planet, tightly guarded. 

Bundling his fears away he kept walking.

Workers climbed up as he descended the tight winding galeries, more than half wearing the Totems of the Triquetra, symbol of the Shadow Lords, some were even fashioned out of their nefarious Oblivion stone.  So far as they were concerned the Shadow Lords had ‘freed’ them, giving decent rations, time off in the small shanty towns, and even ‘allocating’ partners as part of resettlement programs from the underpopulated outposts of the near regions.

“Director,” The 4th Shift foreman handed him the crunchy dust stained output tables printed on frequently recycled pulp of the Alium bulb skins of one of the few crops they’d managed to grow here.

It showed a marginal decrease in output, measured in mere kilograms given the difficulty cutting the dense material free.

“Very good,” Aron sighed “It seems this vein is drying out, we may have to focus our efforts deeper…”

“As you say, Director…” the foreman replied nervously - no one liked going deeper into that claustrophobic abyss.
“...Shadows Keep us…”

“Shadow…” he mumbled, placing it in the folio with his other sheets, a slight dizzy sensation as he made up his mind to try this time something he’d been contemplating for a long while.

The documents under his arm he headed back up, idling toward the multi use facility that served as traffic control, comms center and Hastati barracks.

Presenting his credentials at a small booth the Velite within, the same one every other time looked him up and down.

“Your purpose Director,”

“Transmission of monthly mine productivity to Prakith,”

“You’re a day early…” the velite grumbled

“The Astronav forecasts a Pulsar cloud over the next week, want to transmit everything we have now in case we’re blocked out again,”

The endless violent Solar storms and gravity crunching events of the Deep core meant they could be cut off for weeks from Prakith.

“Very well…” he grudgingly pressed the button downing the crackling electric fence.

Aron strode slowly through the brutalist architecture of the base, ignored by the Hastati and bored Velites, presenting his credentials again to the Triarii at the entrance to the vast humming comms array.

His heart tightened with fear he would be found out.

The blocky door opened.

Inside he walked up to the Comms operator, a bore looking young man with electrical burns on his face and fingers.

With a huff he got up and began adjusting the instruments to align the dishes for transmission, a slow and manual task as Aron entered each of the hand written numbers into the clunky LCD screen based terminal.

Aron finished quickly, fingering the clunky keyboard as the young man swore and cursed at the obdurate machines.

“Aligned you may begin transmission,” he finally huffed.

“Sorry…” Aron whispered, summoning his power as best he could.

“I said you….”

His eyes rolled back and he slumped, Aron catching him quickly and placing him in the corner, sweat front he exterion and the transgression pouring off the Mak’tor.

With his thoughts pulled like a carpet the technician would be out for an hour, maybe more.  Even so Aron had to work fast.

Scrambling to the crank handles he readjusted the dishes to bounce the signal roughly toward the galactic north past Prakith, the least likely direction to encounter interference.

Cranking up the Faster than Light transmitter with one hand he desperately tried to adjust the frequency with another, the ancient equipments range severely limited but just enough to enter the Vyth Emergency broadcast frequency.

With a trembling finger he pressed the old metal grill mic on.

Static

“This is Aron’Dir of the Mak’tor, Authentication Aurek -tesk 4-2-2-3, I repeat this is This is Aron’Dir of the Mak’tor, Authentication Aurek -tesk 4-2-2-3, reporting code Black….”

Come on...someone anyone… maybe he’d been too hopeful, Vyth was to the far ‘north west’

He didn’t have time to keep trying, tweaking the frequency again he aimed for a closer target- Coruscant. The Order might have split them off in the expulsion but he still had his old codes.

“This is Aron’Dir of the Mak’tor, Temple Authentication Dorn -Cresh 8-1-8-9, I repeat this is This is Aron’Dir of the Mak’tor,Temple Authentication Dorn -Cresh 8-1-8-9….”

<<<<>>>>>

Tnbu

To Hear he had ears evolved to hear the slightest skitter in the deep caverns of Sullust which detected every word and keypad click in the Intelligence centre.
 
To Listen he had the Force.  It drew from the thousands upon thousands of fragments of information, rumours, informants, financial trends, government policy shifts, even advertising and holonet marketing campaigns meaningful information.
 
All Master Tnbu heard was listened to by the Force that guided him to see the connections between seemingly unrelated iotas of information, to know what was important and what was mere chaff.
 
He stood at the centre of the vast rounded circles of consoles and cogitators where dozens of Jedi and support workers collated information from a hundred sector and a thousand systems listening for the thread that would guide him to greatest threat the Jedi had ever known, the one the High Sentinel hand waved away and the Grand Master refused to even speak of again.
 
Valens, the great betrayer and his immediate cadre, might well be dead - though the lack of any bodies nominally disintegrated in the plasma fire of a dying ships reactor always seemed to ‘neat’ for Tnbu’s liking – but he was certain there were more Aetherians out there biding their time.
 
For the last five years he had accumulated a definitive case on the hearsay from a hundred worlds.  Incomprehensible events on Glee Anslem, Socorro, Rorak, Bonandan, Muunilist, Nar Shadda, all with commonalities of ‘unidentified beings in dark armour’ displaying ‘god like powers’.
 
His ears pivoted of their own accord to a distant console at the far edge of the outer circle of computers, hearing over the endless typing and ping of message receipts on a hundred computers beneath the ever shifting colours of two dozen holo-news channels splayed on the walls.
 
The Force led him to the desk where a relatively young Mon-Cala Padawan was working, having been given a three month rotation as all padawans took typically given the ‘quiet’ desk of the deep core.
 
“Apprentice what have you found,”
 
“Master,” the Mon-Cala gurgled in the bubbly voice of her species out of water, the humidifying still suit tight around her neck.

“...a strange signal...listen…”

[T…. Aro..’D of...tor, ...emple ….ation ...orn -Cre.. 8-1-8-ni..,]
“Clean that…” he ordered swiftly feeling the force tug his protruding ears toward the speaker.

[Th.. is Aron’D.. of the Mak..., Temple Authentication Dorn -Cresh 8-1-8-9]

“Mouulan, check that authentication code!” his whistling voice carried across the room, the padawan quickly punching in the numbers.

“It’s...an old code, Voided 20 years ago...out of date”

The Mak’tor Expulsion Tnbu remembered well cutting off the rotten grey tendrils from the health Jedi Fungi network.

Tnbu gently waved the Mon Cala away from the terminal to hear. Immediately he knew the Force had listened for him once more.

Feeling the True Force guide him he pressed the red button to open a channel

“This Master Tnbu of the Jedi Order on Coruscant, we hear you,”

Lightyears away Aron felt a flood of relief as the Sullustans sing-song tnes came over the static filled line

“Master thank the Maker, I’m in the Deep Core, the Kingdom of Prakith on a World called ‘Providence,’ It’s being ruled by a faction of Giant Humanoids in Black...no I can’t describe it it’s like the depths of Oblivion itself Armour - called the Shadow Lords of Prakith...they...they are making devices that Eat the Force itself, expanding their army, please believe me!” he pleaded

“I believe you Knight,” Tnbu replied, ‘Oblivion Armour was all he had needed to hear.  The True Force had at last delivered him a means to hunt down the Aetharians - the Deep Core he should have known, a blind spot for the Order so focused on the Inner and Mid Rim!

“We will send agents at once, but tell me all you can now….”

“I don’t have much time…” Aron replied after a few minutes, an obvious delay in the transmission.

Aron told them what little he could, describing in broad sweeps the minerals they mined for, outlining the growing Legions strength and expansionary focus, but he had to cut the transmission and send his report to Prakith before the Technician awoke.

“...I have to go I’m sorry,”

“You’ve done well Knight, we will send help,” Tnbu promised

“Please…” Aron finished “...if you can contact Master Odjina tell him Aron is alive, I know things are hard between our order but I know he can help,”

Odjina! The Heretic had been dead for years, but the so-called Knight need not know that.

“I will, I‘ll contact the Mak’tor as soon as I inform the Council,” Tnbu lied.

“Than…..” the signal cut to static leaving both Mak’tor and Jedi feeling vindicated and hopeful.

<<<<>>>>

The Lost Six


They could all feel the decay behind the glitz of the Audience room.  The stench of cheapness masquerading as ‘cost control’.

Chief Operations Officer (COO) of Mining Guild Operations Koros Sector was a fat stupid looking human woman with a weary Givin attendant whom Kisaea could sense was the true manager of operations, closing its dark eye sockets to embezzlement and trying genuinely to improve operations for the Guild beneath the obese weight of the woman.

It was the Givin who was speaking now.

“At first they were a nuisance the likes of which we had dealt with before, but nine facilities have now been captured and twenty eight convoys raided, dozens of ships lost…”

The  COO rolled her beady green eyes beneath long thick artificially black hair with a blue tinge as was the fashion in the Tetan court.

“Point being we need you to teach these rustics a lesson, re-capture as much as you can,”

The Lieutenant Colonel of the Ailon Nova Guard who stood before her in gleaming red hued carapace armour simply crossed his arms.

He commanded just over a thousand Ailon, so culturally hungry for war their entire species was a large mercenary company.

Kisaea was not Ailon. 
She was Aethan. 

Purchased from Nar Shadda she was an Ailon 'auxiliary’, species they used to fill battlefield or support roles the Ailon were comparatively weak in.

“We can’t afford any more of these attacks eating into our profits,” the COO went on.

Then you should’ve hired us sooner the Lieutenant Colonel thought. 

After nearly two decades fighting, after a gruelling three years on a barren wasteland of a planet enduring fatal training that had seen them lose Jadyn, Kisaea and the others could read the Ailon thoughts easily...for all the good it did them.

“So what are you going to do for the credits we have already paid you hmm, what results?”

They had barely arrived in the system and already she was demanding. 

That would filter down to Kisaea and the others.

“Provide us with exact details of these pirate raid and we will meet our contractual obligations,” the Commander replied, pirate suppression jobs were not glamorous but they brought in the credits - a mercenary species numbering in the tens of millions who only specialised in warfare the Ailon had to purchase all their supplies from water, to air to food necessitating taking these more ‘secure’ Guild contracts even if the glory and challenge was lesser.

Kisaea felt a mental shrug from Daryn across the room

<Here we go again,>

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 15, 2021, 02:08:01 AM
Remnant — Part 6 — Vigilance — Part 3

Tnbu

I Swear by the Force that I shall not cease in my Vigilance
 
This he had kept, against all the dismissals of Yoda and Yshrrk who preferred to remain wilfully blind to the truth.
 
Tnbu closed the door with a heavy thud, the tiny chamber contained the Jedi’s most advanced communication system, a quantum holo-transmitter that accessed a ‘backdoor’ within the vast republic communications relay system that could used by the Jedi to override entire planetary comms bandwidths in an instant.
 
Only members of the Council knew it even existed. Only three had access to it.
 
I shall ensure I am ready when they arise anew,
 
He was not among those three – but Grand Master Kimar had been – and by intentional negligence his access codes had not been purged.
 
It had cost Tnbu much to obtain the details of the beings whom he intended to signal with the array, far outside the Republic, but, given Yshrrk’s intransigence the only group who could provide what was needed.
 
I will not hesitate to destroy them by whatever means, at whatever cost necessary
 
Others might feel sickened by them, consider it a fundamental betrayal of all he Jedi believe to consort with such beings.
 
But Tnbu’s Oath of Vigilance overrode such concerned.
 
He keyed in the co-ordinates and waited for hundreds of comm bouys across the galaxy to realign, shutting down interplanetary communications in a dozen sector for his message to be sent.
 
Finally with a delicate chime understating the enormity of the engineering behind it he had access.
 
Seconds later he was pre-emepted by a booming angry voice in Huttese
 
[Who dares disrupt the munificent tranquillity of the Bootana Hutta]
 
Tnbu’s target was Pybus  - a lush jungle planet located deep within the Bootana Hutta. Unpopulated, it was covered with hundreds of ancient ruins.
 
Pybus was considered taboo by the majority Hutts for a reason so unspoken it had taken millions of credits to pry it from contacts.
 
It was the home of the feared and reviled Flesh Crafters, the creators of the Unblemished – or in huttese - Ciy’Keueketka Pure Warriors  - stimm fuelled, psycho surgery purged cyborg armies that protected the Throne worlds.  For all the violence between rival Kadjics, all Hutts gave a portion of their income to the Flesh Crafters who protected the paradisal worlds the Hutts could always return to.
 
“I am Tnbu, Master of the Jedi Order and head of intelligence, I wish to speak to the Pohna Kakea regarding a common enemy,”
 
He was met only by silence for several minutes, he worried the connection had been lost – though more likely they were confirming his credentials with their own intelligence.
 
Eventually a more sickly high pitched voice – for a Hutt – replied
[Speak]
 
“I have information concerning the beings who destroyed your module on Rorak V, a meta human species known as Aetharians…I believe I have located them,”
 
Again there was only silence
 
He continued
 
“We strongly suspect they are operating in the Deep Core as the ‘Shadow Lords of Prakith’ whilst I require further information to ascertain the veracity of these reports, I wished to share this with you and ask a simple question…”
 
I affirm that the Aetharians represent and existential threat to the Jedi Order and the Republic
 
“…if I find them, will you come?”
 
He knew he was asking arguably the most loathsome slave taking, sentient abusing groups in the entire galaxy for an alliance, but what else but legions of Unblemished could wear down the chaotic demi-gods, and who else had more motive and resources to sacrifice the thousands necessary to do so? 

The Jedi had proved on Myrkr and Ord Mirit no match for a handful of the Aetherians, how many hundreds might these Shadow Lords Number, and then behind a wall of Prakith Legions!  No, Tnbu would see no more Jedi diverted from the Republic to face this enemy, he would bear the weight of destroying the Aetherians, and accept the censure of dealing with the Flesh Crafters gladly.
 
Again there was a long, tense silence. 

He was certain the Hutt pariahs were consulting among themselves, they were a plodding race, but Tnbu banked on the fact Hutts rarely turned down a chance to outsource an onerous or risky task.
 
[Agreed…Hurrg-66-1-28-3-Bo’osh]
 
The transmission died, the last words Tnbu assumed were a more direct Holo-comm channel to contact them on when the time came.
 
For the first time in a year he felt a sense of relief, of progress.
 
He left the tiny chamber and walked the long empty corridor in the dead still of the early morning, through a courtyard he looked up behind a small reflection pond populated by glittering red Koi-aquim where a marble stela with the Jedi Code inscribed in luscious flowing script stood.
 
 Oaths to said Jedi Order and Republic may need to be set aside in order to save them both
 
The final words of the Oath of Vigilance repeated in his head defying the idealism of the Code.

This too he was keeping.
 
 
<<<<>>>

Ninth

Barely a spec on the view screen, the ancient vessel retrofitted with Mining guild Shields floated absent any crew.

“520,000 Kilometers, 300 kmph velocity.” Sixth noted as on a lower level Fifth removed the arming key, the red numbers on the blocky square device sitting in the middle of a ring of enormous Oblivion Obelisks that crackled with power.

“Targeting,” Seventh began gripping the control Orbs, Third and Fourth assisting. 

They needed give only impetus and direction to the Array, the energy accumulated from thousands of their subjects would do the rest.

With a pop of displaced air the bomb vanished.

Were Ninth able to experience anxiety or tension she might feel it now.  She could not, only certainty in the Technocracies plans.

The distant vessel vanished in a white hot star of nuclear fire, on the bridge of Glory of Prakith the human crew looked away from the blinding flare.

Ninth stared directly into the inferno, superhuman eyes more than able to cope with the intensity.

“Energy drain 617 million Aeths,”

117 million over their estimate...that would require extensive smaller scale testing to reduce such variability and improve their forecasts.

Regardless the Array had worked, teleporting a nuclear bomb directly onto a starship. 

With Teta, the Mining guilds resources, and its billions of workers and civilians to power the Plinths, soon they would have a dozen such Obelisk arrays. 

Purgatio Astra the sole driving motive in their Reactivated minds would be achieved, if it took a decade or a millennia, Ninth would see it so.

“Aethani Dominabutir Astris” she said

“Gloria in Excelsis Aethani” was her squad's response.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on September 17, 2021, 05:37:08 PM
And so the Purgatio Astra continues, the Remnant now legitimately the "Prakith Empire."  And like our "mainstream" Aethans, they now have their own operational Obelisk Array (regardless of how "imperfect" it may be, it is a truly horrifying weapon; one fears that it will be used against...someone, sooner if not later).

It is also striking that the Remnant is even less...Amoral (if not entirely IMmoral given their imperative of Purgatio Astra).  Still, there are several items of note: under their "rule" their vassal systems are actually given the necessary benefits of sentient welfare, a modicum of equity (if not anything near equality), and improved living conditions, especially when compared to the former "Sith" masters.  Of course, this serves as a practical component for them; after all, a reliable tool is one that is taken care of. 

Also, they are victims themselves: the Technocracy was many things, but sympathetic to their individual citizens it was not.  Case in point: each member of the Remnant has been manufactured to increase all martial- and aggressive-behaviors while suppressing (or, more appropriately, eliminating), something that they had no choice in.  For them, Purgatio Astra is more than a base instinct, more even than just some intuition; it is their literal raison d'etre

However, this only makes them that much more dangerous to the galaxy at large: they have absolute conviction of their objectives without any moral inhibitors inherent in most sentients ("Nature vs. Nurture" notwithstanding  ;)).  And I suspect that they will come to loggerheads with other agencies very soon...in fact, sooner than they themselves realize, courtesy of the most unexpected of persons: Jedi Master (and the head of Jedi Intelligence) Tnbu.  Speaking of...

Here we see yet another member of the Jedi who is as much a victim of circumstance as he is an instigator, pitting two enemies against one another for "the good of the Order."  If Kimar's violent adherence to his own rigid orthodoxy showed nothing else, it was that such attestations done "for the good of the Jedi Order" are almost exclusively self-serving, hypocritical, and countrary to the spirit of what the Jedi Order is supposed to be.  And unlike Yoda, Tnbu was not absent from Kimar's tenure as Grand Master, complicit to at least some degree (if for no other reason that he said nothing).  Or perhaps his Oaths of Vigilance stem from such a time, the bloody events of Myrkr and Ord Merit serving to galvanize his own convictions?  He certainly has no problem using Aron for his own motives.

And caught between the Prakith Empire and Tnbu's own machinations is a true victim: the Mak'Tor Knight Ar'On'Dir.  Despite the impending conflagration, I think that IF he survives AND finally makes it back to M'Tzigon, he will find that his homecoming will not be the comfort that he dreams of, especially once/if he learn of the events on Vyth and the loss of a truly good and worthy Jedi, Kage Odjina...


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 21, 2021, 06:02:34 AM
Chapter 44 — Oblivion Gray — Unstoppable Force — Part 1
Broken Partings
These Events take place after Schism’s the Vhal’Dan Civil War Chapter 17 Days of Counted Sorrows.

http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg643408#msg643408 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg643408#msg643408)

<<<<>>>>

“I’m going to help my parents,” Ari’s voice and posture unyielding as the Oblivion armour she wore before the assembly of the People, half in the room, half connected by link-orbs.

“No matter what,” she finished strongly

Her briefing on the state of Galtea, the raging civil war, and the imminent defeat of the side led by Kazic Ovarug - and his request for their military assistance had produced a mixed reaction among the People.

Milaea and Sofa shocked and troubled, Selaena, Melron and their respective children and wards largely indifferent, Jarys contemplative.  Karintha, Kiraea and Valens shared conspiratorial glances that troubled Milaea even more.

“Saani and Kazic,” Karintha said after a pause, Taran a walking dreadnought behind her. They had barely been back from Dathomir a month, the former Thrall of the Witch Queen Lykana still struggling with his memory but physically as strong as any of them.

 “Deserve our gratitude for rescuing you from isolation, caring for and teaching you, it is only fitting we assist them in their hour of need,”

There was a general sense of agreement among the budding group mind of the People, only two islands of doubt stood alone in Sofa and Milaea.

“Even so, we are so few, we cannot afford to put ourselves at such risk cheaply, it would only be fair if we are provided a moderate recompense in addition…”

The People had profited enormously from the war on Dathomir, not just the substantial parting gifts from various tribes they had assisted, but immeasurably valuable loot taken from Blood Peak, Lykana’s personal collections of grimoires, runes, talismans and scrolls, vast stores of high grade weapons and materiel plundered from the Iridonian Mercenaries vessels.  

And more than anything else, experience, training and combat praxis in Dathomiri witchcraft added to their already considerable suite of aetheric powers.

Milaea could sense Kiraea all but salivating at the prospect of looting Galtea rapaciously for their advanced technology and museums crammed with carefully curated Force artefacts, even Jarys intrigued by the prospect of testing himself against the Vhal’Dan knights…

The crown jewel of their predatory motive shone in Valens - a chance to punish Anson D’Aklon for his offences against Ari by destroying what the Arbiter - now rival Kage - loved most - The Vhal’Dan themselves.  

If Ari felt this as Milaea did she made no mention, ever since Kazic had made contact, Ari seemed to have thrown a barrier around her mind, vision blinkered to focus only on saving her parents.  

“I’m certain Frellick face will give us some coaxium for the trip,” Kiraea smiled

“We will need our full force, all four destroyers, new Mark II armour and weapons, all the new abilities learned on Dathomir...it is unfortunate the Hecate is not yet finished...” Valens noted, as Warchief focused on the practicalities and overarching strategy.

“Even then we will need to take careful stock of the situation,” he turned to Ari his illusionary form projected from the floating orb showing genuine concern
“It may already be too late to turn the tide, or even evacuate them,”

Ari nodded, it would take two days to assemble their forces, two weeks at the least, possibly three depending on the Novae and gravity fluctuations in the Deep core, to reach Galtea. The war could be over by then.

“Even if…” Ari didn’t speak the eventuality she feared out loud
“...I would still recover their bodies for proper burial,”

“As a Daughter should,” Karintha agreed before turning to the assembly of faces assessing each one in turn,

“We are all agreed, we will go to Galtea and assist Ari’s adoptive parents, proven Friends of the People?”

Milaea looked back at the matriarch, Ari just beside her, blood red flame cascading behind them, the ruin of cities and ships, an orange glow through which dark silhouettes walked, oblivion boots crushing weak humanoid bone with each footstep.

“No,” she whispered blinking out what was less vision than inevitable fact.

“No,”  Milaea said louder, cutting off her orb, striding out a trail of red anger in her wake.

<<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/L5k0cTZ/OG-Broken.png) (https://ibb.co/4dmFXbV)

“Mili!”  Ari called down the corridors deep in Mount Aelia, a red flare up head signalled her...her...friend..slamming a door open.

“Mili what’s wrong!” Ari had to run to keep up as Milaea, however unconsciously, drew on the aether all but teleporting across entire sections of the Mountain Fortress.

She finally caught her in her room, the lighter red haired woman leaning on her desk over the small collection of Dathomiri wood and stone-cut totems they had been working on together when Ari had stepped out in response to the vibration of Kazic’s link orb  in her pocket.

“Don’t Go, Ari…” Milaea said not turning to her yet
“This won’t end the way you think…”

“Have you had a vision?” Ari carefully replied knowing that was a sensitive subject
“No…I - try not to do that anymore…”  

Ari understood seeing the possible futures, especially unintentionally, was a burden, but it seemed a wasted resource.

“I don’t need a vision to know this will end badly – Kazic, Saani won’t win from this, Valens and Karintha won’t help them, not truly.” Milaea went on finally turning around, eyes pleading.

“My mother is in danger, I can’t turn from them when they need help the most…the others will just help me to do that,”

Milaea sighed. Why wouldn’t Ari listen?

“Ari…Kazic won’t be able to resist the temptation to use Valens…Valens knows that and he’ll punish Kazic for it even as he allows it”

Ari bristled at the insult to her father from someone who had never even met him
“Kazic isn’t like that!” She snapped
“He’s not exploiting us, he asked for help!”

Milaea unconsciously stiffened her arms crossing across her breast
“He’s asking for weapons – if he surrendered this could all be over – instead he’s turned to a force he knows will cause his enemies utter devastation – and you know it too…”

Ari was considering a response…but there was too much truth in what Milaea had said to disagree, Milaea’s face softened as she felt the relenting presence of Ari

“Ari I know this seems like the right thing to do....but…if Kazic is willing to bargain with Valens and Karintha for victory what does that say about his state of mind?”

Memories Milaea didn’t like to dwell on resurfaced for a moment
“Sometimes it’s better not to get involved…”

Ari pursed her lips, Milaea was not holding back on her condemnation of not just Kazic but also The People…Ari knew Karintha and Valens would do what was best for People in all things, no matter what it cost the Vhal’dan, but that didn’t mean it was necessarily incompatible with helping Saani and Kazic…

“I’m already involved…I won’t abandon them.” Ari finally resolved

Milaea stepped forward more forcefully as Ari’s annoyance built

“Ari don’t do this, just stop before you do something you can’t take back…”

Ari stepped up to her hands starting to tremble at the confrontation as the air between them sparked.

“If you’re so worried…” she could feel the static build between them…No not like this…I don’t want to argue with her…it feels wrong…

She couldn’t help herself as she was pulled between her parents and the woman she loved and forced to choose.

“If you’re so worried…why don’t you come with us, you can guide them to a peaceful solution…” Ari continued reaching across the thin physical divide to touch Milaea’s arm trying to bridge the mental gap.

“You can do what you did on Ord Mirit - Freeze an entire Battalion, mind control the Collegium of Maenowans,  turn a Battlecruiser to dust - just one show of your full powers would terrify a huge portion of Anson’s allies into surrendering!” Ari beamed hopefully dispelling the tension with the best solution she could think of for everyone involved.

Yet somehow that hardened Milaea’s face and she pulled her arm back

“You think it’s that easy, that I can just fly down from the sky, be the ‘Deus-Ex-Milaea’ and solve all the Vhal’Dans problems by mind controlling them…”

Milaea knew Ord Mirit had been…special…a use of the Goddesses power through her…but that power was restricted to helping only the People, she couldn’t summon it at will, and the Vhal’Dan Civil war hardly constituted a ‘People at dire risk of extinction’ moment.

Yet that wasn’t what hurt Milaea the most, it was that Ari was talking about her as if she were an…object…a weapon to defeat her adoptive parents enemies, to ‘make them surrender’ not ‘negotiate’

“…I’m not doing that…I’m not getting involved…”

So consumed by her own emotional turmoil she was blind to Milaea’s, Ari snapped back
“This isn’t Vyth!”

Milaea’s eye widened and she pulled retreated

“I know you wish that hadn’t happened, but this isn’t the same at all, I know what I’m going into, Saani knows what she is asking for…”

The line had been crossed.

“Don’t you understand, if she knows what the People are and she still wants them to ‘help’…she’s insane…if she doesn’t know then you shouldn’t tempt her…” Milaea retorted strongly

Ari was getting fed up with her telling her what to do, and what people Milaea had never met, in a situation she refused to understand should do.

“If you don’t want anything bad to happen then tell the others they can’t go with me,”

“I can’t tell People what to do,”
Ari sneered

“You could if you wanted to, one word and you could take Karintha’s place,”

Milaea looked away

“But you don’t want to get involved do you, you just hide in the caverns, abandoning the future by avoiding the present, looking on the past!” Ari’s broadside struck keenly, she tried to get her gaze but Milaea wouldn’t meet it

“You’re so afraid of making the wrong choice you won’t make any choices, and you let the others do all the dirty work – if you didn’t choose it you don’t think you are responsible…well not choosing is a choice Milaea.”

Tears were welling in Milaea’s down cast eyes but she pushed on

“I don’t want to see you hurt Ari…if you do this it’s going to hurt you a lot…”

“Take what you want and pay for it…that’s what Saani says…I’m not changing my mind…if I regret it, then I chose that path and I’ll own it.”

She paused softening her tone as the aether vibrated with confusion and conflict

“I know you don’t want me making the same mistakes…but this is my life Milaea…my family…at least respect my choice even if you don’t agree.”

<<<<>>>>

Preparations were rapid, and efficient.

Two at a time their fleet of Four Aertemisaea Class Destroyers were prepared, loaded with extra munitions and stores, the entirety of the Extolled forces once more pressed into service, their Yorik-Coral craft nestled on the hangar decks beside the Vorynx fighters.

Chiss technology, Aethan Ultradense Minerals and Yuzzan-Vong biotech were beyond the remit of the Ansonite Fleet's breadth of tactical experience, they would not even be able to detect many of the Vong craft.

Rich blackstone and Kevlar-plas scents wafted off the new suits of Mark II armour, the designs begun after the battle of Ord Mirit now pressed into their first active service, while bulkier than the Mark I they boasted thicker plating, a Stygium micro-crystal lattice for advanced stealth, and Bloodstone runic enchantments based on Dathomiri patterns.

They further prepared by marking their bodies with Gormin and Vorynx blood in intricate protective runes.  Wives trailed their hands covered in the sticky red fluid that pulsed with energy over their husbands necks and chests muttering incantations before sealing what was among the most technologically advanced armour in the galaxy.

Kassyndra and Jenaea laced feathers and bead strings infused with Dathomiri hexes into the women's hair, wound tight leather bands around their ankles and wrists with malacia curses carved into the crackled brown, generating a 3 meter radius in which most non-Aethan species would feel progressively more nauseous, a subtle weapon that with their other enchantments re-enforced their advantages.

Even the youngest and untrained Xanea, Nyaea and Oran would join them, acting as healers and pilots for emergency extraction, or recharging and rebinding enchantments.

Only two would not be joining the ‘Assistance’ as it was so euphemistically named, Milaea who remained in the caverns, and Sofa who fronted up to the hangar as Valens oversaw the boarding of the final squads of Extolled Warriors, each bearing a thick band of shedded Ye’vk scales around their arms, adorned with their logographic language on the deeds they promised to perform for the ‘Avatars of the Gods’ measured in enemy skulls, almost all of them had armour adorned with Dathomiri or Iridonian heads making their hideous mutilated bio-tech forms gross beyond reason.

Sofa stood arms crossed as the last elevator lifted them into the Pesephaea, only Valens remaining.

She was not so much angry as sad, for Milaea, for Ari, and most of all for the Vhal’Dan - Kazic had no idea what he was getting himself into, and worse would soon learn there was no way back out again.

But that was a tragedy for him to live...or more likely die….with.  

Sofa had chosen to remain behind as a ‘conscientious objector’, and keep Milaea company as she worked on healing the Rorak Twelve, the handful they’d rescued still in need of months of slow regenerative shatterpoint healing, hopefully that would keep Milaea occupied.

Valens stood in full armour before his wife, she only in loose fitting white-flaxen shirt and baggy trousers suited to the early summer warmth.

The contrast of his vast hard Mark II armour that made him seem twice the size counter intuitively stark given he seemed to cower in her presence like a padawan caught sneaking jubba-jellies in a history lecture.

“I have to protect Aresaea…” he apologised in advance for the hell he would unleash, not to the Outsiders of course, never to them, but to Sofa, for the discomfort she might feel.

“She’d be safe here” Sofa insisted sternly

Then relented with a theatrical sigh

“But you can’t make her stay here, no one can, do what you have to do, just bring yourself and everyone else back safely.”

It hardly needed to be said, given their miniscule population, absolutely no casualties could be permitted, and without Milaea to rapidly heal and shield everyone in kilometer wide aether Veils of Mist, Sofa was certain her husband would have to temper the ferocity of whatever strategies  he had already concocted.

Her tacit, less approval than acceptance, gained he nodded.

An uncomfortable pause followed that she broke with a light kiss on her tiptoes to reach him, a fitting distance she thought, once he was in Warchief mode he was always that cold distance away.

The taste of her pheromones on his lips he locked his helmet on knowing it might not be removed for months, but at least this way encasing those intoxicating scents within the suits closed systems for a little longer.

Stepping on board the Oblivion Army began the inexorable advance to ‘assist’ the Gray Jedi.

In the quiet of the two weeks that followed travelling forgotten hyperspace lanes closed for centuries, millenia even by Astro Navigational hazards deadly for the majority of ships - mere bumps for Deep Core capable vessels - Ari switched off all thought of her argument with Milaea, a singular focus on training and preparing so she could rescue her family.

She had fled from Galtea a girl barely aware, let alone in control, of her burgeoning powers.

She would March back as a Woman and Guardian of the People.

(https://i.ibb.co/nj68QMf/War.png)

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 21, 2021, 06:06:56 AM
Chapter 44 — Oblivion Gray — Unstoppable Force — Part 2

Aresaea K’aval had left because her parents could no longer protect her from Anson D’Aklon.

When she returned nothing could save those who protected Anson D’Aklon from her.

The filial wrath of a protective daughter and her army of Demi-Gods was first turned on Anson D’Aklon in the form of chunks of ultradense stone twisted into shredding bores hurled into Anson’s armada by dovin basals and telekinetic aether powers.

Chiss reflexive void shielding that turned inwards around the Aertemisaea class destroyers soaked up all but the faintest emanations of heat and radiation concealing the mass of the vessels ensuring by the time the staff on the Gungnïr had detected a faint blip it was already too late.

Taryn -  with his vast experience in unconventional space warfare was put in command of the attack - knew it was only a matter of time before the Vhal’Dan devised a way to track them, and though their  Chiss-Aethan Hybrid shields and weapons were up to 30 per cent better, the Vhal’dan could easily overwhelm them if caught.

He considered it a personal favour to Ari, and pulled off every trick he had to do right by her.

Extolled coral skippers used dovin basals to shield the positioning of the listing Shikkar torpedoes, both mere specs in the void, written off by a handful of scout ships as stray debris from prior battles.  Aethans on board each of the Yorik coral vessels subtly exuded a sense of banality to deter any of the pilots from getting within visual range.

In perfect time to Taryn’s plan, Kazic deployed what few vessels he had remaining in rapid leaps across the lower atmosphere to take Anson’s fleet's eyes largely off the void behind them.

The Anzat himself took the initiative to expertly combine this with misdirection and dis-infiomation that made Anson’s forces think Kazic was probing the orbital blockade to find a way to escape the system. 

They had one shot, all or nothing to wipe out Anson’s fleet.


Slipping within range they swapped Void shields for Stygium stealth drives - Kazic intelligence having marked the vessels with the advanced sensory systems capable of detecting Stealth ships made them the first target.

Telekinesis and dovin basal gravity pulse launched the Shikkar torpedoes straight through the Vhal’Dan shields which were set to deflect energy weapons given none of Kazics ships utilised projectile weapons.  In the Aether Nexi of the Destroyers the Twins coached the others in how to expand their Veil of Shadow Technique - a combination of the Cloak of Shadow learned as children and Veil of Mist traditional Aethan cloaking ability - to hide the Torpedoes for as long as possible int h Aether.

Ari’s face showed neither remorse nor revel as the Ansonite fleet was laid waste in a matter of minutes. 

The chaos caused by the torpedoes boring inside the hulls and detonating their proton bomb cores was followed by the Destroyers zooming through the fleet, switching their Stealth drives on and off as rapidly as possible to give utterly confusing readouts to the Ansonite officers already confused by the destruction around them.

With each stealth ‘off cycle’ the Destroyers unleashed their full 12 Megamaser Turbo Cannon armament into a single vessel at close range, in all but a handful of cases instantly  overwhelming the shields and shredding the metal and men beneath into superheated chunks that blasted outward with the kinetic energy imparted by the Charric based weapons.

From the Aetheric Nexus on each vessel, Yorna now directed a coven of the women and men not piloting vessels to project and Hex of Mystification - it pushed a quarter of the already stressed and overwhelmed Ansonites into full blown rabid panic and delirium - those with the fortitude to survive found themselves unable to concentrate on the simple task of finding life-pods or sealing breaches.

Even at that early stage pockets of resistance formed. On the Gungnïr Triad Mern of the Cataphracts under Silver Knight Looqar Sim saw the pattern with her Shatterpoint skills, desperately tried to communicate the warning back...but ever vigilant Jenaea sensed the intrusion and spun back with the Aethenaea to finish the flagship as quickly as possible.

On the Draugr - hub of Ansonite Naval Intelligence - Maenowan Ts’An’Ral of Triad Nern was typing his observations even as his pink crenellated Siniteen head was bleeding profusely, his analytical mind piecing together all the information he could as screen after screen from the fleets integrated Sensor Network went blank.  Yaret-kor from an Extolled Coral-skipper darting out from beneath the Perspehapea to add further confusion with its vastly different profile and weaponry, sent a magma blob into the Draugr just before the Siniteens brief could upload to the holonet transceiver fully.

The four destroyers, Aertemisaea, Aethenaea, Aephrodaea and Persephaea each took over a dozen ‘prizes’ within the space of mere hours, relentless fire and advanced stealth technology combined with carefully placed Yuuzhan Vong gravity manipulations to deny the few captains that managed to regain a semblance of control, and officers that could manage to discern the patterns, any time to communicate it to the rest of the fleet.

There was no need to finish off Anson’s remaining battlegroup.

Leaving a portion of the fleet intact was essential to giving Anson the illusion he could still, if needed, retreat from the planet under his own direction.

More debris than ships by weight behind them the fighters pulled back in and the Destroyers micro jumped to above the orbital plane, Taryn leaning back flexing his fingers boots on the console satisfied with a job well done.

<Well Poppet looks like round 1 goes to us,> 

Ari’s hands were white knuckled on the weapons control of the Persephaea, the brief warmth she had felt reuniting with her mother given over to the cold instinct to protect her parents that manifested in dissatisfaction as she scanned the Aether sensing distress, but no despair. 

Anson had not been aboard any of the vessels. 

While he still lived they were not safe.

<<<<>>>>

For his disadvantage in numbers and resources Kazic had done - not that Valens would ever say such - an impressive job to continue his resistance as long as he had.

The Anzat’s tactical nous was not to be underestimated, he had prepared the groundwork for the Aethans arrival during their 15 day transit very well given the circumstances - in most cases they could directly into key enemy positions while relying on Kazic to hold strong points to retreat back into.

Valens strategy was based on the premise that the People were - compared to the wretched amalgam of species that lived in sick omni-cultural harmony - Demigods, each able - on average - to crush anyone of the lesser things underfoot.

Demi-Gods needed to be omni-present, inscrutable, and invincible. 

With only 19 warriors and 3 supporters, unable to risk any casualties given their low population - or indeed even injury without Milaea’s peerless healing ability and sheer volume of raw Aetheric power - Valens had to play a cautious game with his vicious fast attacks.

So far as the Ansonites and Kazics forces were aware the ‘Shadow Warriors’ operated either alone or in groups of three, striding forward against suicidal odds without fear or pause and unleashing extreme Telekinetic of Force Lighting attacks that shredded entire building apart, upended Tanks, overloaded and melted Defensive Platforms before advancing under cover of relentless Hades Fire and Oblivion arrows that shredded through the far less dense standard armour of the Vhal’Dan regulars, before finally cutting down any knights in brutal quick melee.

In truth each group of three was at least four, supported by up to six Extolled in Cloaks of Nuun - the Yuuzhan Vong already utterly invisible in the Aether rendered completely unseen by their bio-tech masquers which were beyond the remit of any technology known in the Republic to detect, let alone in an active warzone where scramblers and faux signal emitters were copious.

Divided into Teams Voursus, Vorynx, Vosis and Vopanthera, Valens frequently swapped members between squads and the nominal squad leadership to spread experience and ensure no two missions were undertaken by the same group, denying the Vhal’Dan analysts any chance to find patterns.

It necessitated rapid movement of his forces across the span of Vhal’Udhav and Galtea as a whole - that Aethans required no sleep and minimal rest made this simple enough.

Success came quickly beginning with infiltrating and disabling critical infrastructure supplying the Ansonite protected civilian areas - water filtration, power supply and public transport -Jenaea’s unrivalled danger sense allowing them to slip through the enemy lines, if slowly, Evyn’s and Kiraea’s stealth quickly crippling security, and Taryn the pirate saboteur and Maeson the demolitions expert doing the rest.

Amidst the more nasty of Valens tricks was to set loose a whole pack of the pallid wiry limbed Volurks - vicious predators from Aethas underground caves who were overpopulated on the planet - into the sewer and service system beneath Vhal’Udhav, the vicious creatures were threatening enough to Aethans - against the regular troops holding key water filtration and power junctions they were a nightmare - Anson forced to divert his elite Cataphracts to deal with them early on as they made entire sections of the subways and underground networks unsafe for transit.

Aresaea, along with Selaena as her children Lydan and Lyaea, more openly supporting Saani and her Shadows in scouting and damaging enemy forward positions, as well as causing general chaos where they could, using Selaena’s sniper expertise to eliminate target at incredible distances and Lyaea’s incomparable ability to mind control captives to perform comically suicidal actions or spread disinformation.  When pressed down Lydan, the quiet shepherd who wrestled vorynx weekly would be sent in with a single word to crush any threat.

Meanwhile at least one team was always furthering aspects of the Peoples agenda Kazic did not need to be aware of -  placing a series of Geomantic Circles access large areas of the planet - based on Dathomiri design they drew the ‘natural’ Force from the planet toward the surface within the area bordered by the Circles changing the very nature of the Living Force flow to a more ‘Primal’ hue that the Aethans could access more easily than the comparatively ‘intellectual’ Vhal’Dan. 

The effect was minimal at the start, perhaps a 2.5 per cent gain and corresponding loss in speed of using the Aether, but as the weeks progressed it would seep and spread.

It also made destroying possible futures much easier, enabling the Aethan force to pervert any attempt Anson, trained in future visions by no less than the renowned Aing-Tii Varel-zo, made to look for temporal tactical advantage.

The Extolled were also set in roving bands, promised Blessings of the Avatars for each Knights head they brought back rammed on the spikes of their crab armour.  As a guerilla force undetectable in the Force they caused terror and confusion as they bore no physical or tactical similarity to the ‘Shadow Warriors’.  They prided themselves on their slaughter of the ‘Graaaay Jedaaaai’ Yhum proudly wearing the decaying head of a Maenowan on his spiked shoulder, Gnuur glorying the loss of one eye for the price of two Koawan scalps.
   

Regardless what seemed like easy slaughter to Kazics commanders were harder fought battles that saw the Aethans tag in and out to ensure they always presented a front of Three unstoppable warriors to spread their mythos, the Extolled providing vital assistance to relieve pressure points and ‘create’ cover with thud bugs and boom-slugs to enable a tag in and out.

Valens remained alone commanding from Kazics war room, leaving on occasion to assassinate the more capable commanders among Anson’s forces as part of his plan to hollow out mid ranking officers leaving a leadership vacuum filled by non-commissioned officers, talented but inexperienced Koawans, or forcing higher level officers and Maenowans to get into the nitty gritty diverting their attention from broader strategy preventing them seeing the true strokes of the painting Valens was creating.

Regardless it was inevitable given time, information, and resources the Ansonites would begin to develop countermeasures to all the Aethans advantages in technology, Aether powers, stealth and martial skill.

Much of Valens fight was denying the Ansonites that time and deliberately switching his tactics to avoid any patterns to emerge, notably by allowing the other People to have a large say in their collective plans.

He took Taryn’s suggestion of creating a ‘Pirate’ group with Evyn, Lydan and Maekal  and 30 Extolled, Taryn using his piratical nous with Vong Yorik-coral vessels and dovin basals to board and loot dozens of Ansons supply ships to and from outlying planets in the sector.

Jenaea proved to be a patient tactician and devised a program of highly public intimidating attacks, deftly avoiding any conflict or engagement with her impeccable danger sense, getting extremely close then gleefully unleashing the twin dreadnought horrors of Jarys and Taran in the midst of Vhal’Dan regulars causing terror.   

While Taran still struggled with short term memory recall, his ferocious muscle memory from years as the ‘Varaganian’ and Aether resistance built against Dathomiri Witchcraft, combined with Karintha’s simple instruction ‘Anything not People must die’ made him a devastating berserker shattering anything less than the most seasoned Maenowans and Silvers.

Yorna, Karintha, Lyaea and Kiraea delved deep into their Witchraft to unleash chaining subtle malacia and nightmare hexes amongst the Vhal’Dan that increased the fatigue and stress hormones in most species, slowly grinding morale, and breaking any sleep the soldiers did get with terrors.

Progress was still not as smooth or effortless as Valens allowed Kazic to believe.

Valens understood an aura of invincibility and inscrutability was critical to making his comparatively insignificant force a decisive factor in a war between competent veteran Gray Jedi.

There were dozens of maenowans and silvers more than a match for the younger and less martially gifted Aethans.

On more than one occasion Melron, Jarys, Karintha, Taran, Melron and Yorna - Guardians of the old Ways had to step in, taking injuries themselves to extricate another surrounded or out matched, then increasingly helping each other.

Valens slowly came to rely - much to his chagrin - on Kazic himself positioning his ever growing forces as more Ansonites defected through fear rather than conviction.

Kazic served as a very useful tool in that regard, while the Anzat could not truly conceive of the magnitude of what Valens intended strategically, he was tactically capable enough to trust in for filling gaps and taking advantages in spaces Valens own severely limited Aethan force could not.

Aethans were designed for war, to fight for months on end by cycling two of their six conscious levels into a sleep pattern - even so the sheer number of Vhal’Dan knights ground them down.

Fatigue began to bite at the same time the Ansonites initial shock began to wear out. There could be no denying they had inflicted a gaping wound on Anson’s forces with their initial attacks.

But it was not fatal.

After being battered by three silvers to rescue Evyn, Melron had to withdraw to the ships to have his armour repaired and recover a number of soft muscle injuries and ligament tears, Evaea took three shots to the leg, Maeson a broken nose and wrist, Yorna after bringing down a storm of lighting on a bunker suffered aether exhaustion burns.

Karintha had to abandon the raid on Ansons main coaxium refining facility after the enemy collapsed the tunnels they were entering through, 3 Extolled were killed, Taran had to hold tonnes of foundation above his head only narrowly escaping himself with torn muscles in his back.

Taryn's raids halted once a clever bridge officer determined a way to, if not pinpoint, at least detect dovin basal gravity manipulation used to provide motile force to the yorik trema boarding vessels and to tractor victims in.

Ansonites set up a sting with an explosive laced ship that blew a yorik trema, Taryn and Lydan forced to go EV in a kinetic bubble before being picked up by Maekal nearby.

Those of the Vhal’dan from cultures more in tune with the vast corpus of force powers under traditional witchcraft began to unwind the hexes they had unleashed and track down the geomantic circles.

The Extolled with their Masquers and living weapons were a potent force, few of the Gray Jedi had any response to blorash jelly or amphistaffs, but they could easily be outnumbered and were far more vulnerable to conventional weapons, leading to losses to mines, missile launchers,  and simple concentrated blaster fire when caught.

They desperately missed the extra blade and Jedi experience Sofa could provide…

Valens personally missed Sofa herself, her faux-dramatic sarcasm that broke tension and grim plotting with levity a sore absence.

...and equally the incomparable defensive and healing powers of Milaea that could’ve halved recovery time and spread protective aether shields around their squads reducing injuries in the first place.

Nyaea, Oran and Xanaea on the ships provided nursing as best as they could under Kassyndra’s direction, rapidly advancing their  skills abilities by necessity, Oran especially had an affinity for such it was as if in his forgotten lost years he had trained with Force healers. 

Still nothing could substitute the sheer enormity of Milaea’s power.

Valens could not risk any lives while they were so few, yet as they wore themselves down the risk increased dramatically...and the promised booty had not arrived. 

They invariably found storehouses and vaults for force artifacts long since stripped by Anson or Kazics forces.

Rumours of a rogue wookie with several valuable pieces unable to be pursued as their time was stretched thin.

Valens strategy and tactics still achieved exceptional results to the point Kazic did not notice the slow down, or if he did assumed it was part of his strategy to draw Anson into a final confrontation.

In truth it was the People reaching their limits against a numerically superior enemy that were getting wise to their tricks.

They had to trust the Anzats promise to deliver on the rewards for victory and maintain a facade of immutable strength before their allies by remaining in the field and progressing the strategy.

A Trust that wilted ever faster as Kazic understood his allies more and more.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on September 21, 2021, 06:10:11 AM
Chapter 44 — Oblivion Gray — Unstoppable Force — Part 3

Valens own solitary predation of mid ranking commanders and knights had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. How many had it been now...seven raids averaging four targets, the faces and names were there if he cared to recall.

He did not.

Introspection was cut  by Kazic’s voice.

"Saani has reported back - the convoy was exactly where you predicted, we captured all but two loaders, which Anson’s men managed to scuttle...our supplies of power cells doubled in one attack..." wonder always mixed with fear in Kazics voice

"What serial numbers and makers' marks were on the cells?" Valens asked

Kazic was growing used to such random minutiae, Valens capacity to retain and analyse the smallest pieces of data astounding him still.

"I will confirm with our quartermasters...are we looking for anything specific?"

"We believe Anson has been operating factories beneath the ruins of Sem'Piel Industrial district, the moulds retain the serial numbers of a factory supposedly destroyed early in the war...a minor detail forgotten as the machines were moved underground to an unsued Mag-subway terminal which is used to move manufactures through the old subway to a distribution point closer to the sea."

Kazic frowned considering the possibility...or rather how he had missed it.

"Your shadows have proven efficacious, you will send them to scout the area thoroughly" Valens adopted his ‘command’ tone.

In truth he suggested the Shadows as he needed to give as many Aethans as long to recuperate as possible.

The People could feel the Seiðr - the telling and shaping of the future, thread and rivers of possibility, were expanding to a critical mass,  pressure that needed release in events of momentous Aetheric vergences.

Even the Anzat could see such through his daen nosi, lines of fate.  Ari had postulated a similarity between the Seiðr and Daen Nosi, Valens had not taken it seriously, considering the Seiðr most likely a more perfect evolution of their ancestral Miraluka Vision possessed by the Ter -Sene - the greatest of their Seers. 

Spending more time with Kazic had made him question if there wasn’t, somehow, a link to this Dean nosi as well.

"Saani and her best squads can be ready in twelve hours, if they have been operating underground it must be lightly defended, we would have picked up a substantive presence there on routine scans...with additional forces we might be able to take it. This would have to be one of Ansons last power cell facilities on the surface, a significant blow to him and boon to us" Kazic explained

Already Kazics analysts had discovered Anson was clandestinely pulling his best troops back to Lus'phor hidden among regular force rotations. This could accelerate the process and, with a few more successful pushes on fortified zones, give Kazic all but total control of Urban Galtea.

"If you could spare some of your commandos...." Kazic suggested

Valens could not...but he had few excuses and had to maintain the invulnerability illusion.

"I can send a squad," Valens.

Kazic knew there were many things Valens was, by omission rather than deceit, keeping him in the dark about. The web was too intricate, and the needs of the moment too pressing for theAnzat to delve them.  Regardless he tried.
 
“Is there anything else I can assist with?” Kazic probed

“See that none of our gains are lost over the next few hours,” Valens said with derision he did not feel, knowing full well Kazic was more than able to - if Valens allowed him - move the war to victory from this point now.

Yet the Aethan had to keep the Anzat in his place.

“I have tasks to attend to,”

<<<<>>>>

See Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War Chapter 22 for the immediate hours after.
http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg696707#msg696707 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg696707#msg696707)
<<<<>>>>

Aresaea
She strode through the battlefield untouched.

The screams, pleads, outright horrors of the broken and dead deflecting as harmlessly off her thoughts as blister bolts and light sabers off her armour.

Aresaea watched with only tactical interest the ruination of the once verdant and vibrant Galtea, the desolation of Vhal’Udhav from a thriving metropolis to haunted broken towers and dust choken ruins fought over by sniping soldiers and the occasional inconsequential duel of knights on opposite sides.

She stopped at some point on the scorched earth of the Stryka Annix Botanical Gardens where once she had asked the Gods of Galtea for permission to stay a while until her People found her.

It had been the heart of the city, now it was the most wrecked following the Promenade Incident, when the gardens had burned the fires so intense it spread to the nearby entertainment and hospitality venues, then the larger buildings, the districts repulsor generators failing, taking the entire district and thousands of civilians with it.

It was now a pit of melted metal and crumblin ferrocrete, bones still here and there among discarded weapons and clothes.

With a crooked head and minor interest she observed the scene. 

I wonder how they did it… was her only thought regarding the fire and devastation that followed.

Not who, or why, simply how. 

Both sides claimed the other was responsible, Anson’s propaganda machine boisterous in denouncing the ‘Anzat Murderer of Vhal’Udhav’. 

It didn’t matter to her what her Father may or may not have done, just as it didn’t matter now what her People did or did not do.

Maekal was let off his leash, ravenous with delight to prove his worthiness to Evaea -his vicious potential finally unlocked by Karintha’s careful matchmaking - he collected Teidowan skulls by the dozen.  Kiraea and Selaena vented their insatiable hatred of outsiders in tolls counted in the score of sniper or knife bled victims.  Yorna, Adaea, Nyaea and Jenaea experimented with Dathomiri curses on soldier and civilian alike, taking the odd captive for bio readings before ‘disposing’ of them.

If she missed the clarity of the duels of Champions and standing armies favoured on Dathomir, it was only because that would have been more expedient in achieving her sole objective - that was protecting her parents and destroying their enemies.

Perhaps it was a failing in Aethan culture, but to Ari why her parents were at war with Anson, and how they chose to prosecute that war, did not matter one bit.

She had told her father very clearly
“It’s not up to me to stop you…But one thing that I can do is be a voice to my People for the Vhal’Dan…for although they assist, they will only ever do what is best for the People.”

He hadn’t understood, not truly even as he nodded, but it wasn’t her place as an adult daughter to question her fathers judgement. 

For the People were always of one mind, one focus - the enemy of one was the enemy of all.  This was how she understood her own role here, her family were in danger, she would protect them.  It might be easier to run, to hide, but the duty of a daughter was to support her parents' decisions, not make them.

She could walk through the chaos, saber in hand, slicing down those who would never surrender, sparing those who might, wondering the how of the atrocities both sides committed and not the why for one very simple reason.

She had come to protect her father and mother.

Not to save them.

(https://i.ibb.co/dprgKTQ/Ari-annihilation.jpg) (https://ibb.co/R69yHFC)

<<<<>>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 15, 2021, 04:22:53 AM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/XVFxptc/Cataphracts.png)
Reprieve
The Galaxy was upside down.  Smoke and dust filled a grey landscape over the ruinous sky that had been a city.

His long fingered limbs pushing himself back upright Koawan Tol Yoru felt the ache in his facial plate that had bent too far back, and the memory of heat from the explosion that had turned flipped him round and landed him headfirst as surely as the entirety of his factions advantages had been

Hand instinctively reaching to his belt he felt the absences of saber as a physical blow.  his glassy rounded eyes on either side of his extended cranium searched in opposition to each other as the Ithorian knight scrambled.

The boom and crack of explosions was so constant now he paid it no mind, held no fear that at any moment he could be turned to so much red vapour by a mortar hit. 

For him that would be a merciful death. 

pushing aside a fallen chunk of what had been a wall panel in the shelled building he found the scratched and stained saber, the once lustrous newly lathed metal tarnished with black grey carbon scoring.

Not pausing, he stumbled upon his hooves, plodding over the uneven ground as fast as he could to rejoin the column slowly moving to the rendezvous, under constant bombardment from the False Kages forces.

They had been caught in another ambush, their own mech support firing on them initially through the actions of a mind addled non-Vhal’Dan commander Koawan Her’in had to...had to…

well the woman’s mind was so far gone there was no choice, to preserve the chain of command she had to be removed.

She had been touched by the Trinta.

A rear guard line of troops held behind upturne speeders and half a mag-train firing ineffectually into the dense ruins all about hoping to at least deter the enemy getting any closer.

While the Ansonite Battalion - or the quarter that was left of it - was not outnumbered, they were surrounded, and the cowardly Anzat’s Shadows and guerilla’s were hard to catch, and even the Spec-Ops now refused to try and pursue in the ruins for fear of the Trinta.

Making a quick run in open space he heard the pings of blaster shot against ferrocrete before diving behind a Sergeant lining up a shot with his chipped Sniper rifle.

“Shavit!” the human spat behind a dented helmet having missed another chance to the fast moving guerillas.

Yoru had no time to assist heading back cover to cover to the main column, thankful he had not been left behind for the Trinta.

Always the Elders had told of the Trinta coming from the Anti-world, the inhabitants of the opposite of the Mother-Jungle of Ithor that sometimes slipped into the Jungle.  In the mirror world he inhabited, Yoru felt he had slipped into the Anti-World - a jungle of Sentient constructed ruins where not a leaf or vine could be seen, where Death outpaced Life.

Truly all was upside down.

Crouching in his runthrough the half sunken top of a curved tunnel he spied Her’in ahead, his green saber lit who gestured him to come faster as a thrumming boom filled the air, transports cruising overhead to pick them up in another troubling retreat.

Merciful Mother Jungle let me bask in your dew filled Dawn once more Yoru prayed as he ran ahead.

Doors on the transports opened, troops inside with side mounted repeaters unleashed on the larger of the nearby ruins, the mortars and snipers falling quiet for brief peaceful seconds.

For a fleeting moment Yoru dared hope.

Then the wall Her’in was pressed against exploded outward, vast yellow white beams that seared his visions cut into the side of 3rd company incinerating a dozen at least into flakes of dust.

Tiny blips of red tipped death flew over head slamming into the transport shields, most exploding without effect except to muddy the air with even more black retch worthy smoke that filled the gills of his two mouths.

He saw Her’in...or what was left, trying to claw out from under a slab of the wall that had surely crushed him below the waist.

Then through the mist of fire a dark hand grasped the Ikotchi’s head and without effort or inconvenience crushed it inward.

All of Yoru’s throats expelled their air in shock as the Trinta stepped forward, raising in one hand a rifle that glowered with magma red and firing with precision that defied even a Maenowans skills as enemy soldiers rushed past to hit 3rd and 4th in the flank.

This was the end he realised, the entire Battalion would be culled mere meters from escape.

With trembling uncertainty his blue balde sprung to life and he clambered forward hooves pinching as some stray piece of metal stabbed up through his well worn plasteel-sole.

Then the Cataphracts Arrived.

Solid strong beams of orange came micro seconds before over two dozen micro missiles flanking the flankers.  Even the Trinta - the Oblivion Monster, seemed suddenly stunned.

From three sides  came three titans of Humanoids that ran despite the obvious bulk of their armour across the uneven debris strewn ground.

Each appeared a giant, thick plated armour the colour of dusted stone gave the impression of living statues of ancient Jedi come to life to wreak ghostly vengeance, matte down black armaments across the vast tank like suits indicated the latest technology to do so.

Beams of saber energy as tall as Yoru himself burst to life bash back any shot that neared them, each member of the triune squads covering the over perfectly as they advanced and continued to fire.

In the midst of one raced Jelan Ya'qul, Maenowan and Primus of Triad Besh - infinitely cool under pressure,his bespoke Gauss rifle aimed straight at the Shadow Warrior, taking in his Secundus and Tertius senses as much as his own to make the shot.

With preternatural speed the Shadow Warrior dodged the Plasma Shell - but it caused him to be hit by arm-mounted las fired from Triad Esk - it’s own Primus Ravra Påx Crion purred contentedly in her Cathar tongue as her own Secundus and Tertius, the Barabel twins Rana and Rena loped into melee with the False-Kage’s warriors, their Beskar Breakers were dodged - but it was a faint for their muscular bladed tails to swing around and slam the trooper to the ground in bone crunching deaths.

The Reptilians hissed in Glee as the pressure on the Shadow Warrior intensified, the Anzat’s forces - for the first time in weeks - victims of an ambush.

With a Roar Silver Ostooloruu Wuurich, Primus of Triad Herf turned the eternal chip on his shoulder to mechanical advantage to bash through an enemy demolition trooper cowering behind a personal shield.

The Beskar-Breaker, the enormous Zweihander passed down through generations that his special Order within the Vhal’Dan wielded, shattered the thin kinetic barrier and sliced with crackling energy through the body.

The Lions head symbol that adorned every Zweihander in honour of Saril Båz Rhadde, unifier of the First Cataphract Battalion during the Battles of Istic III, gleaming against the ubiquitous soot and blood mist.

Adapting swiftly as they expected the Shadow warrior rolled backward into a couch aiming his nefarious weapon carefully into the wookies chest. 

The hell red shot struck Herf’s Secundus crackling green blade, but the kinetic impact of the Macro-Maser weapon still cut through enough to dent the wookies pauldron.

Instantly the Cataphract  armor, a self-replicating plassteel ablative plate-and-mail construction went to work repairing the minor damage. From micro deposits within the the pauldron  - then refilled from a larger reservoir in the back plate, the Dover Catalyst - a rare form of Crystal found only on Kewda under the Ancient Stone Guardians gaze - was deposited by the self-replicating nanites to repair the dent in the armour as if it were never there.

Now curious the Shadow warrior switched tactics, holstering the rifle it flipped out a Bow, nocked and fired three arrows faster than Yoru could see into a Triad he had not.

The Oblivion tipped weapon struck hard on his chest piece, but did little damage as the ablative Cataphract armour responded to the kinetic impact with a micro plasma cloud that deadened the impact, the Dover sealing what microscrataches were left.

Ravra meanwhile slashed down another soldier as the False Kage’s forces began a faux retreat as they were reinforced.

The Cataphracts didn’t care, they were the bulwark, the Durasteel fist of the Vhal’Dan that were trained to fight against numbers ten times their own.

A curious tilt of the head and the Shadow warrior all but tore the Force as Yoru understood it apart.

A thunder that trembled the ground for meters followed the blinding crash of a wave of Force Lighting beyond anything Yoru had imagined possible.

Bolts of pure Force energy slammed into Triad Herf. With grunts, hisses and growls they took the powerful attack, trusting in their armour. 

While upgraded over the decades, not the least for the Dover, much of the core material hailed from the New Sith War, calloused and inured by battle against Force Wielding opponents the Lightnings impact was barely a half of what it should have been - the main blasts caught on the Zewihander glowing blades as the Shadow Warrior expected, barely a quarter of the intended arc’s hit the armour joints, causing nothing but uncomfortable twitches and tingles that were soon shrugged off.

Rearguard opened up on the Cataphracts as the Shadow Warrior seemed to think better of his position, and for the first time, retreated behind the regular troops.

Disciplined and controlled the Triads didn’t pursue, the orders were clear - now was not the time.  Instead they methodically devastated the rear guard as the Shadow Warrior vanished into the ruins, the false Kages ambush a failure, the vast majority of the Battalion evacuated as planned.

Stone still in astonishment, for the first time since the Trinta had appeared, Yoru dared to Hope as the cheers boomed across the quieted battlefield..

<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 15, 2021, 04:24:33 AM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object — Part 2
Resistance

There was chaos and madness.

Columns of metal twisted into faces of leering purple tree trunks, the screech of hideous fell beasts that plied the skies reverberated in their auditory senses, the scent of decay boiled off unfathomable beasts with ever shifting numbers of limbs.

Many were on the ground balled in foetal positions trying to block out the sound.  Others gripped the sentient earth fearing they would fall up into the sky if their rictus grasp were released.

One by one they were cut apart by the Mist that Consumed all.

Until a Reason, Focus and Order penetrated the pandaemonium.
  
“TRIBUS FORWARD!” was the rallying cry of Silver Knight Alfalex Nåj Withstr, Primus of Triad Jenth.

Before him strode the beacon that parted mad waters - they were the ‘Clergy’

Lead by the spiritualist - for want of a better analogy in such cross species and cultural concepts - Primus Maenowan Qaman'Xa,  Aing-Tii, Triad Isk unwove the nefarious illusions that blanketed the entire battlefield with the “Clarity of Mind” technique the Triad used to center themselves in the currents of the Force and breach the delusions of physical world and senses.

 The Force illusions sputtered revealing the columned cloisters and body strewn courtyards of what had been the Vhal’Udhav University South Campus Center for Anthropology.

Qaman'Xa fought back the troubled unnatural currents of the Flow,
“This is not the Will of the Maker!” zher translator-vox communicated into a tinny female voice to the others, though as with all things between Aing-Tii and humanoids what Qaman’xa understood as ‘Will’ and ‘Maker’ were probably only tangentially analogous to what the rest of the Tribus did.

It didn’t matter, in the bond of the Tribus forged in the crucible of war now faced with the sickening twists of Aether Magic the need to respond with Control, Light and Purity was evident.  

‘The Clergy’ buckled down in cover and spread their minds into the Great Beyond to draw forth the Light and Truth to push against the Aethan Witchraft.

“Nnnnh!” Adaea hissed as she pulled a sword from another body, the Dispelling of her Illusion a bladed dagger in her own Aetheric Aura,

“That’s not very nice…” she seethed even as she twisted the head off another Knight currently in the throes of a paralysing hallucination.

She and Nyaea had worked so carefully on the Madness Curse that covered a radius of nearly a hundred meters about her, it had been a cathartic process for Nyaea to externalise her troubled nightmares onto the Outsiders.
<Taran teach, them a lesson!>

Crunching another body under his boot Taran hefted his claymore, shouldering aside another solider with enough force to shatter their ribcage as he built up into a run through the remains of what had been three companies of Ansonite troops defending the Campus as the professors had scurried to evacuate the very artefacts, exhibits and research the Aethans had come to plunder.

He pounded straight through a cloister wall - his task in each engagement was simple and clear - Obey the Women as he did now, and in the absence of direct instruction, seek the strongest non-Aethan presence and destroy it.  

Qaman'Xa instantly sensed the hurricane of power aimed straight for zher Triad, without a word it was communicated to the Battle meld and responded to instantly.

The juggernaut ex-Varangian’s charge was met by the Corellian Cresh Crash.

Named for all their members all being natives of that world saved from the gutter gangs by Master Gray Vilhynn Soban, Triad Cresh Primus Chimi Mal-Wel and Secundus Kylista Jachowa ran up the both flanks over the broken ground with a flurry of beskar-breaker heavy Ataru lunging swipes while micro missiles fired from four launchers - two more than standard-  on their backs.

Taran swiftly dodged where he could, telekinetically pushing himself where he couldn’t as the two Zweihanders lashed at him - just as his own Claymore was poised to strike back the Tertius ‘Lil’Nern’ advanced down the middle of his Cresh comrade mini-turbo laser spitting death at 500 rounds a minute - at least fifteen shots slammed into Taran  as the women boxed him in, even the Blackstone armour heating orange at the intensity of the mini-turbo’s bolts of raging red forcing him to retreat back for the first time in weeks.

The small offices and carefully manicured cultural garden beds behind him were shredded by the turbo laser shots as the combination of Ataru lunges, Micro missiles and sheer volume of fire began to overwhelm him.

Her most deadly bludgeon so rapidly trapped Adaea directed the rest of her team - Taryn and Maeson forward as she fought a mind spiking battle against the Clergy to regain control over he Metaphysical plane.

Hades Repeater primed, Maeson ran at a couch to flank the Clergy, Taryn moved to intercept Triad Jenth.

Alfa’s Triad went straight down the center of the formerly retreating and panicked Soldiers who turned to join them with yells of confidence as they surged forward.  

His Secundus Honslou took sniper shots even at full gait, such was the Togruta’s preternatural skill, using a sniper rifle like he had a sword in his days training as a blade master, forcing Adaea into deeper cover.  


The Tertius Luucadri ah-Marq, a Lorrdian, observed the disposition of the nearby officers dotted around the low campus offices and open air lecture boxes, crafted carefully into the igneous rock of the local strata of the region to create small natural amphitheatres that were now turned to large fox holes, heavy weapons emplacements and kill zones.

With his carefully honed native ability for mimicry that translated to a near prescient ability to read allies and enemies alike, al-Marq guided the Clergies sense of calm with the Force to those who needed it the most even as he whirred his arm mounted lasers that bounced off Taryn's Katana.

One hand on his blade the other firing relentless shots from his Hades pistol Taryn blasted the same point in Marq chest plate repeatedly forcing him on the defensive as Alfa drove into him Beskar Breaker crackling murder.

Methodical and dedicated to the study of the martial arts, Alfa pressed the Aethan hard, Taryn’s quick Katana and fluid street fighter style  usually gave him an advantage against the stodgy saber forms of Knights.  A Cataphract  was a different beast altogether and the former pirate fared poorly - Alfa was systematic as al-Marq was observant, the Lorrdian communicating in their link his observations of Taryn and filtering through hints at what his next move might be.

The first blow was struck when Taryn overreached a thrust, tried to cover with a blast of Aether flame that was lost to the callous of the Cataphract Armour, and Alfa swung straight into the young man’s thigh plate with a crackling hiss.

Scrambling up a fallen wall Maeson thought he had the Clergy dead on, unleashing fifty Phrik rounds into them, each one cutting through empty air as their illusion died.

<Goddesses Bloody EYES!> how had he, an Aethan!, been fooled by an outsider illusion…

He had no time to contemplate as the Clergy fell on him from all sides with Micro missiles and zweihanders, the former burst on every plate of his armour and filled the air with choking acidic smoke, the latter beat down on him from all sides.

Taking a chance Adaea snapped out from cover bow taught and unleashed like a machine gun her 6 arrows, three at Honslou the sniper, three more at the Clergy, forcing the Cataphracts to ease off Maeson long enough for him to scramble away and drop an implosion grenade, the Triad scattering further as the device churned the earth into a ball of compacted desiccated carbon.

Honslou dodged the first two, but the third arrow lodged in his shoulder, the tip just reaching his skin and seeping in a Force Fire enchantment that ate at his muscle.  He quickly detached the plate and cast the malefic thing off, more determined than ever to put a diamond bullet through the witches skull.

A see-sawing clash commenced, Taran able to keep the Corellian Cresh Crash from overwhelming him, but not strike back meaningfully as Lil’Nern’s turbo laser kept him from getting his Claymore into Chimi or Kylista.

Taryn locked with Alfa and Marq, the two Cataprhacts not quite able to break through as the Aethan juggled a Katana and two hades pistols, the heavy Cataphract armour could take a number of hits from the pistols, and the dover catalyst repaired the damage, but Taryn’s preternatural ability to hit the same spot on the armour each time forced them into awkward stances to protect the weak points.

Honslous kept the witch physically pressed down as she snapped arrows where she could, while  Qaman'Xa kept her eldritch powers contained as the rest of zher Triad pursued Maeson whose armour had been substantially damaged, and repeater broken by their illusion ambush beating leaving him to snap rifle shots and counter zweihanders with his daggers where he could.

Aether and Force slammed and cracked with Kinetic blasts and Lighting arcs in between the conventional weapons in a balanced clash as the nine Cataphracs numbers and battle-meld made up the difference against the naturally stronger Force connection of the four Aethans.

Both sides were skilled enough not to make a mistake that would allow the dynamic equilibrium to break, a single Aethan or two Cataphracts lost would shift the balance inexorably against the side who took the loss.  

Instead it was the slowly recovering regular troops that forced the Shadow Warriors to retreat.  
Regaining their lucidity the corps reformed as the officers gathered them, bolting into the natural amphitheaters carved into the igneous rock which they used as trenches to open up on the Shadows in support of the Cataphracts.

<We need to pull back,> Adaea’s instruction was cold and clear, recognizing they were now seriously outnumbered.

It wasn’t a fighting retreat, it was a rout.

The Demi-gods trusted in their biologically superior speed enhanced by the Aether to blitz out of their engagements, dropping grenades or pulsing waves of kinetic energy to get them space to escape.

The Tribus swiftly opened up with their ranged weapons as they pursued, aiming for the feet and slowing them to give the soldiers time to bring up their heavy weapons.

The Aethans covered each other with arrows and Hades fire lost to  Beskar breaker blocks, The Clergy unwinding any attempts to cast Illusions or launch Malacia attacks with their Clarity of Mind in the Force acting like a physical shield against the Aethan witchcraft.

Drawing on the ever obedient men, Adaea all but consumed their aetheric stamina to power herself - channelling their energies into a single massive blast that pushed up from 5 meters under the ground along a 50 meter curved line.

The Tribus advance was stopped dead as Qaman'Xa preantral foresight paused them just short of the explosion of dirt and detritus that lifted like a wall in front of them.

“Cowards,” Alfa sneered, his chest plate still smoking from the pistol shots slowly being rebuilt by the near depleted dover catalyst

“Clever,” Chimi countered as the soldiers now reformed pounded mortar fire at the retreating Shadow warriors

“A ganger who fights and runs away….” Marq parodied the old Corellian axiom, earning a punch in the arm from Kylista

“Curious,” Qaman'Xa’s tinny translated voice stated as zhe joined the banter.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 15, 2021, 04:27:25 AM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object — Part 3

Repulsion

By accident or design the Syncretia had been built upon a nexus of natural aether flows through the very fabric of Galtea.

Dozens of building with designs as varied as the spiritual, religious and sentientist beliefs and philosophies that inspired them were built in three concentric rings separated by gardens and walkways linked by artificial streams that sloped down to the center of the circle of building where stood the Syncretia Sanctura, a vast rounded domed building of a khaki marble, its height enhanced by its reflection in the pooled miniature moat about it, the water always moving by underground pipes to feed back to the outer rings and flow back in an eternal cycle of renewal.

If there was a meaning to this it was lost on the four Aethans that trampled the granite pavers underfoot, each step of their blackstone boots cracking the polished stone.

By accident - or design - the Syncretia had been spared any major damage during the war, both sides seeming to respect the array of sacred buildings as a sanctuary, it had even survived - by divine intervention or dumb luck - the devastation of the Promenade district its souther edge bordered.

There were no guards, indeed the whole Syncretia was deserted apart from a handful of meek monks and cowering priests in the various outer buildings of their faiths.  

The Syncretia was a physical manifestation of the harmony amidst diversity of the Vhal’Dan, bringing together all traditions in one place, linked by the artificial streams, encouraging communication and understanding toward developing the syncretism for which it was named.

Despite her gene crafted savant-like mind, the entirety of the nature of the Syncretia's purpose remained beyond Karintha’s comprehension, no matter how much she re-read the briefings and office purpose statements of the precinct. As though such multi-faith and multicultural harmony and the attempt to promote such was so antithetical to her neurology she was incapable of grasping it.  

With a front kick Melron broke down the Northern circular portal into the Syncretia Sanctura revealing the vast mosaic lined interior, a large wide open space adorned with images of every species imaginable linked together, discussing, debating, affirming their similarities and exploring their differences as a boon rather than a barrier.

Along the walls were shelves full of well read texts from all the represented faiths and more besides - The Book of the Way, Meditations of Marka Ragnos, Hymns of Ashla, Odjina’s Treatise Confirming the Maker.

Yona, unable to resist her insatiable curiosity, ran her armoured fingertips over them.
“So many delusions…” Yorna sighed sorry for the perplexed Outsiders.

Jenaea, far less subtle, simply grabbed the shelf and ripped it from its wall bolts  in a single swift motion then pumped three Hades shots to set them alight.

The clean uniformity of Aethan monoculture was the only reality they could understand, at best they acknowledged other species ought to - like them - remain a single unified species with a singular set of cultural practices and values.  Notions of multi species faith, integration and diversity of purpose and opinion were perplexing at best, anathema at worst.

Karintha’s snide smile broadened as she walked to the centre of the Sanctura, opening her helmet filter she sniffed the air, traces of sweat and respiration form when dozens of civilians had sheltered hee and come to ‘pray’ after the promenade incident and as the war intensified still strong.

Her People had set even those determined to remain to flee, Valens strategy flawless as was to be expected from their masterful race, yet it was her, the Matriarch that held true control  - Ari’s family was an excuse, Valens command mere delegation for the suppression of the Vhal’Dan and punishment of Anson D’Aklon.  

The foolish Ovarug’s incessant attempts to comprehend Valens strategy and goals would never succeed because he was unaware that Karintha controlled the People and this war in ways far more subtle than a non Aethan could comprehend.

And here in the epitome of the Vhal’Dan’s multicultural folly she would enact the final hidden blow against them

Karintha had carefully studied how Lykana had drawn her power from Dathomir itself, how she had moulded the Ichor that flowed through that world to her will, intensifying her power at all points by controlling and moulding nexi such as this.

From the very start of their offensive Karintha had the People seek such such nexi on Galtea and twist the natural flows of ‘Force’ energy to a more ‘natural’ form that was easier for the People to use, and - for the majority of the more intellectual Vhal’Dan, there were always some exceptions in such a diverse group she had to begrudgingly acknowledge - more difficult to call upon.

Eighteen Nexi in and around Vhal’Udhav had been turned, but this place beneath the Syncretia Sanctura was the focal point whose change would amplify the impact and spread it across the whole planet.

Undefended and considered ‘holy ground’ by both sides they had left this till last to ensure the Vhal’Dan sages didn’t detect the full impact until it was too late to change, once set loose across the planet fully it would take months to revert assuming - Karntha sneered - the Vhal’Dan Sages even had the skills to do so.

Melron strode to the very centre of the Santura , spun out his sword and drove the ultradense blade into the comparatively soft onyx central circle, the impact shockwave cracking the mosaics all around and echoing through the dome above.

Yorna idly wove defensive runes and hexes about the Santura - just in case - while Karintha drew out and began to tune the hand sized Orb to the aether flows about them, it would enter seamlessly as part of the Galtean natural flow then curve the streams to her desires.

Jenaea suddenly snapped to attention transmitting a blinding yellow ‘light’ in their spatial awareness mere moments before the explosives detonated.

Marble and the ferrocrete beneath blasted inward with dull thumps showering them with dust and debris that was quickly mingled with laser lances.

Quickly in defensive stances expecting a charge, Primus Silver Knight Kall-jeq "Kalli" Masbes quickly tapped more keys on her wrist mounted controller, a spray of micro detonators barrel larger than a Ryza-dumpling shot from her shoulder mounted cannons, the flechette like weapons spraying dozens of micro explosives through the gap sheh created and onto the enemy as her Secundus and Tertius, far more able in close combat than she, advanced.

The Nautolan leader of Triad Forn regretted having to turn her demolition expertise upon the Sanctura - home to some of her fondest memories discussing the similarities between the Ocean Spirit of Glee Anslem and the Maker  - but was firm in her conviction that the moment those shadows had stepped inside it was doomed, better its annihilation serve the Vhal’Dan than the enemy.

Marble dust was turned to glass by arm mounted lasers as the full Tribus circled in, more and more pieces of the Sanctura blasted inwards, all careful not to bring the building down just yet.

Black arrows of a hideous dense substances and red hellfire maser shots came back through the dust, Maenowan Agemean Villados and Silver Knight Ostooloruu Wuurich of Triads Qek and Herf deftly avoided the shots -had rushed from other engagements once Kalli sighted the Shadows at the Syncretia - Triad Forn having staked it out on Qaman-Xa’s hunch - the Aing-tii was rarely wrong.

What the Shadows were doing and why, well that was probably a bit past her - by her own admission Kalli had a below average Force connection - for the Triarch though this was a dividend of diversity - focused on demolitions and sheer bloody determination she balanced out the overreliance on the Force that could creep in amongst the Knights.

Irritation built as more of the dome came down on their heads, Karintha snapped her hands in wicked glowing symbols, chunks of marble with fierce Malacia curses intoned hurled.

The Cataprhacts hunched as the marble shattered on their pauldrons or Beskar breakers echoing hisses, as many colours as there were species among the Tribus, Villados briefly touching the ground to draw on her psychometric skills combined with her Secundus Eirtaé Vor-Rue -a female Yashuvhi tribal-mystic - and Tertius Koawan Alulat Kabdhilinan - a Miraluka with that species attendant Vision - to truly realise the scope of what the Shadows intended here.

The understanding flowed in the battle meld to ‘Midge’ as Ostooloruu Wuurich was nicknamed and Kalli their focus now getting the Shadows away from the Force Nexus.

Easier said than done as Jenaea preternatural danger sense - uncanny even for People - kept all four Aethans from taking any ranged damage and avoiding pieces of the collapsing building.

Yorna’s fire forced the Cataphracts to slow, the teleporting arrows could change course mid-air and sought gaps in their armour, Jenaea’s rifle unnervingly accurate through the dust haze in hitting the same spots on Triad shins and upper arm plates keeping the dover catalyst flowing even as the Force Callous of the Legacy armour kept Karintha’s Malacia and Illusion attacks little more than irritants -for the moment.

Melron furiously kept digging to place the Orb, if they could shift the Aether the war would turn  overwhelmingly in their favour - a goal Triad Qek had the prescient abilities to sense, Triad Herf had the raw strength to act as living shields, and Triad Forn had the implacable determination to charge in the face of enemy fire to stop.

Under Qeks kinetite barriers and behind Midge’s Triad, Kalli rushed forward with flechette shoulder cannons blazing as her Beskar Breaker slashed through an arrow fired at her face.

Maser fire followed, a blast of Force energy that seamlessly melded Lighting with Fire, Midge leapt in front of Kalli enduring the enormity of Karintha’s hideous powers that overwhelmed even his ancient armour force callous singing the wookies fur.

Kalli pressed on, Melron, waist deep in the ground now forced to deal with the mad Nautolan rushing at him, hurling three grenades ahead of her and detonating a final string of charges on the Sanctura to all but collapse it.

The female Nautolan struck an old aethan man as tough as she was relentless, unceasing blows made up for her marginal disadvantage in skill  and sheer tenacity keept Melron from getting out of the hole.

Changing tactics Yorna clapped her bow to her back and drew on the aether, her talent was for drawing deeper, wider and quicker than any but Milaea.

 Koawan Eirtaé Vor-Rue, mind always half walking the metaphysical plains, felt the deep churning in the Force, reacted by and pulling the energies of the entire Tribus to put an otherworldly choke hold on the artery of energy Yorna feed herself with.

It came at the worst possible moment, limiting Yorna’s power draw by half as Melron was caught in ferocious combat with Kalli, Karintha’s lighting and flame attacks found no purchase against the Cataphract armour, and Jenaea even with her sharp danger sense was hard pressed to avoid the constant barrage of arm mounted laser fire and micro missiles.

Primus Villados could sense the cost to her Secundus to limit the Shadows incredible power - Eritaea had to hunker down stone still, covered by Alulat.  

Karitnha sniffed weakness and danced to avoid Triad Herf engaging in melee.  Villados quick as the  thunderbird qukuuf of her Kiffar ancestry upon her face to intercept. Karinthas twin short blades bleeding blue aether fire slamming into the crackling zweihander, even as Yorna drew the intense energy she could moulding it to a suppressive field that would lock the cataphracts legs to ground and slow time itself around them.

Even as she boiled with sweat in her armour Ertiae surprised the Aethan with a Mental Spike.  Yorna might have laughed at how pathetically weak it was, lacking in the necessary focus or intensity to do any damage - but the timing was again impeccable in upsetting her own attack.

Instead of rendering Triad Herf and Forn immobile they were merely slowed to a quarter of their normal speed.  

Villados was completely unaffected, her famed Beskar Breaker - Balmung working as fast as the twin short Swords Karintha brought against them, each clash sending showers of sparks and leaving both women unsteady on their feet from the kinetic whiplash of each parry.

The grizzled Midge pressed on through the semi-stasis field, Legacy armour slowly resisting the curse Yorna struggled to maintain, and the concentrated fire of the Cataphracts denied Jenaea a chance to take advantage of their slow movement.

The Aethans found an enemy for whom a numerical advantage was sufficient to balance if not outweigh their demi-god like prowess, indeed Kalli and Villados were a match for Melron and Karintha with their Triads supporting them.

Yorna was still loose, her mind able to divide between her Aether attack and physical movement she rushed the wookie - with each Triad stuck in melee Jenaea would be free to skirt the edges and whittle the Cataphracts down.

But the hum of repulsors from over the din of battle signalled the arrival of Triads Besh and Esk, and the inevitable defeat of the Aethans should they try and stand their ground.

Yorna skidded just short of reaching Midge’s grasp as he shook off the last of the stasis field like snow on his thick fur - six more Cataphracts was too many.

Racing to her aunt, Alulat spun to intercept Yorna, Triad Qek finding the gap between two Aethans was a deadly  a thread of energy between the Aunt and Niece widened and burst with a flare of raw electricity that forced Eritae and Villados to retreat backward Beskar Breakers taking the brunt of the electricity.

Jenaea concentrated all efforts on relieving Melron, firing at Forn’s rear even as she dodged Herfs attempt to close with her.  Midge just managed to reach the Aethan woman, his vast zweihander quicker than would be expected for his size forcing her to roll and scuttle on the ground.

Villados and Kalli pressed again trying to keep their targets locked up from escaping, but for Qek and Forn two Aethans in melee range were just too much. sweeping charges by Yorna and Jenaea let  Karintha and Melron break out of their entrapment, quick teleport shunts putting them three meters away.

The cataphracts switched to ranged weapons never breaking their stride with the smooth motions mastered over countless years of hard training.  They couldn’t imagine just how much energy that teleport shunt had cost the Aethans, the ability as costly as it was effective.

Low and dexterous the Aethans moved through the rubble, snapping back shots where they could.  Eritae sensed and Alulat saw just how ravaged the Shadow Warriors Force stamina was, a single thought into the battle meld had Forn and Herf reach out with telekinetic grips as strong as they could to try and slow them, their Triads hurling shoto’s to try and cut them off at the knees.

Melron stumbled, Jenaea took a shoto to the lower leg, three laser blasts struck Karintha square the back, and Kalli and Villados reached Yorna as he tried to pull her comrades up.

Balmung sung through the air as time slowed, Yorna twisting so only her left shoulder pauldron was cleaved in two rather than her head, but the Kiffar had underestimated Aethan reflex speed without the Force, Yorna’s dagger flew from its sheath by instinct and plunged into Villados chest plate, deep enough to just cut into her breast.

Kallis' blow at Yorna cut straight into her side, orange heat boiling off the blackstone as Midge got within striking distance.  Karintha leapt into the Nautolan, her dese bones and muscles giving weight enough to unsteady the Cataphract as Melron pushed Yorna down to fire his hades rifle point blank into Villados.

The Primus saved by her Miraluka Tertirus foresight that snapped her head to the side just in time - but the maser shots struck Midge’s side just behind her instead.

Desperate Yorna grabbed Jenaea’s free hand- the other firing pistol shots at any weakness her shatterpoint gaze could pick in the growing number of Cataphracts armour as Triad Besh joined the fray Ya’Quls Gauss rifle seeking torso’s to puncture.

Karintha leapt back off Kalli to take Yorna’s last free hand  - the unity of the three Aethan women not just adding but doubling what Aether capacity they had left temporarily.

Barely had Kalli sat up when a wave of raw kinetic energy bashed her back to the ground, Villados near flew off the ground, Midge fared better hunched, their Triads Kinetic shields failing as a Force tornado was whipped up hurling chunks of the ruined Syncretia at them with blue aether fire tails.

With a bitter roar Kalli charged straight into the eye of the storm determined to get at the enemy, psychologically unable to let up even as large tiles that once formed mosaics hammered her and set small aether flames coursing over her armour.

Just as the Aethans thought to retreat off under a Veil of Mist covered by the Tornado the Nautolan burst from it, sparks coming from breaches in her power armour.

Relentless to the point of irrationality the Primus of Triad Forn rushed the four Aethans while her comrades pushed through to join her.

The lone Cataphract was hardly a threat, but the magnetically accelerated round from Ya’Quls gauss rifle that zipped past Karintha’s head was more than enough to deter her from expending what little energy they had compacting the Nautolan into a ball.

Melron spun to give the three women a monets, space, his balde once more grinding against Kalli’s zweihander in heavy determined strokes before a whirls wind of energy rose up between them.

Kalli braced for another knockback - instead her opponent flew meters into the air - the Aethans hurling themselves with the Force over buildings at breakneck speed to escape.

Kalli huffed as her saber switched off, the others joining her.  

A heavy hand clamped on her chipped shoulder as the Dover Catalyst flowed into the gaps.

“They won’t get away from you again,” the ‘blind’ Miraluka Alulat encouraged

“I’ve seen it,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 15, 2021, 04:28:51 AM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object — Part 4

Reclamation
They were in the very bowels of the  Vhal’Udhav.

The tunnels were barely large enough to fit them in their full armour, finding a wide intersection a relief of free movement.

While the Shadow Warriors were the most prominent face of the False Kage’s twisted re-enforcements, the creatures that infested the the vast underground infrastructure network of Vhal’Udhav, water filtration, nurti-algal vats, oxygen scrubbers, and power relays were an equally vicious menace.

Primus Silver Knight Dexxel Behrn’s, Primus of Triad Leth had been hunting them for weeks.  Though they numbered no more than fifty, the vicious monsters had slain hundreds of engineering staff and regular soldiers - the Kage had called for the Cataphracts.

Pink eyes took in a modified spectral interpretation of the pitch black around him, Behrns goggles converted every frequency of the electromagnetic spectrum into a form of visible light he had spent years learning how to ‘read’  - it was the only way to detect some of these creatures that had strategically torn out every lumen in this sector.

“Where are you damn pasty face bantha frellers…” he hissed as his eyes swept over the low level radiation converted by the Multi-Spectral Goggles to a kind of hazy orange.

Secundus Tenobe, sniggered never failing to be amused by the irony of the Albino Primus aesthetic disgust for the pallid creatures they hunted.

The Mirialan had downed nearly twelve himself - two of the kills were disputed given the cross fire - their filthy long bladed fingers and wiry limbs reminded him of the Wendigo of ancient Mirlian myth.  They strongly suspected they were close to eradicating them, they were becoming harder to find, and huddling more closely, taking less risks.

A ghostly shadow passed their sensors a flare of dull pin against the orange interpretation of low level gamma radiation.

“Shavit all over my shoes...it's the Spikers,” Behrn complained recognising the signature.

Their arm mounted lasers fully charged they rounded the corner emblazoned with a luminescent 55-T way marker primed to fire.

A figure of nightmare stared back at them.

There was no name for these Things that till now had been barely rumours, they were simply classed as the ‘Spiked Warriors’ or Spikers to distinguish them from the Shadow Warriors - the nature of the relationship between the two had left the best of the True Kages analysts stumped.

Grotesque in its glistening shell like armour a ruddy brown red, jagged spiked horns grew at random from every piece of the crab like outfit at angles that made Silver Knight Dexxel Behrn, Primus of Triad Leth wonder how they even walked without impaling themselves.

On three of those horns were the dessicated faces hanging off shattered skulls of Knights the creature had slain with its coiling spertenine weapon.

A face without a nose or lips and teeth filed into blades leered at him from pinprick stars in  overly sunken eye sockets.

With a raping hiss it yelled

“JEEEDAIIIIIi”

Incensed at the dishonour afforded to his fellow knights Behrn yelled back
“FRELL YOU!”

His beskar breaked snap hissed on with a shattering white that mirrored his albino skin and breathed luminance to the corridor, filling it with ever more wavelengths of light his Multi-Spectral goggles could render into forms comprehensible to his visual cortex.

He didn’t know what these things were, how they got here, where they came from.  Only that they needed to die.

Yhashk, the Extolled Yuuzhan Vong, Servant of the Avatars whose Aphistaff had tasted the blood of a dozen Jedi and now sought this Large ones would have concurred. 

He was a warrior, all he desired was to feel the heat of battle and take skulls to lay at the Avatar of Yun-Yammka’s feet, and what a skull this one must have beneath the hateful technological shell.

He had been liberated from the monotony of training on the distant Main Fleet, the inevitably of dying never seeing a true world of facing a real enemy, the orders of the cautious Prefects.  Now he travelled worlds by the dozen testing himself against deadly opponents he could never have imagined - for this he would worship the Avatars through the slaughter he offered them.

Screams on both sides slammed against each other moments before the Beskar breaker and amphistaff clashed, lasers and thud bugs filling the narrow gaps between them and the industrial wall.

Pipes were smashed open venting cryo-gases, wires melted by laser heat, thud bugs smashed through thin render to the raw ferrocrete - it was nothing compared to the damage the combatants were doing to each other.

The Spikers were immune to all Force powers, it was nigh impossible to even get a telekinetic grip on them, the Triad had to fight with blunt brute strength, trusting in their armour to take the cuts from the snake like living weapons and boil off the venom they spat, the Dover catalyst of the whole Triad reduced by a quarter within moments as the Spikers inconceivable ability to change their weapons from rigid to writhing in an instant.

The Zweihanders were no less potent, the Voduun crab armour was able to take two to three hits from a normal lightsaber -the Cataphracts overpowered enormous blades broke the shell and killed the living crab beneath with a single hit.

Three of his warriors were slaughtered like Yoorbu Worms in moments, Yhashk did not fear, the biots so recently implanted in the secret ceremony would transmit their Essence via villip to the Paradise World upon which the Avatars resided.  They would rise and fight again!

Rolling under Behrns Zweihander, and then having to leap to avoid the follow up arm-laser beam he palmed the small leathery sac the Avatar of Yun’Shuno had given him and squeezed, a sticky thick mix of Gobril and Gormin blood oozed out and he splashed it over the Cataphract before him.

Behrn picked up the vivid red gamma radiation signature of the fluid, pulling back fearing some kind of acid - it was highly radioactive, but appeared inert on his armour.

Its purpose was to summon.  The last Volurk predators of Aethas released into the underwarrens quickly sniffed their native prey’s blood and flooded in on their thin fast limbs at the Triads Rear,

Tertius Nuuron, pivoted to catch them first, blasting chunks of the cramped walls away as they leapt and twisted.

Yhahsk renewed his attack, the Triad now stuck between five Extolled and a dozen volurks.

“YOU BANTHA DREN FRELLING, MYVONX LICKING BASTARDS!” Behrn yelled, doubling his intensity all his Force energies poured into extra strength and speed in the absence of a telekinetic target.

About to move his foot to advance he found it stuck, the blorash jelly binding him to the ground with a sticky wet gurgle as Yhahsk lipless face stretched in what should be a grin but appeared to Behrn a frenzied twitch.

The Volurks nails and claws largely bounced off the plasteel, but the feral creatures learned quickly to seek out the joints, a single lucky blow, one in a thousand of nails dripping with poison that could make an Aethan seriously ill was all that was needed - and they were raining blows by the dozen per second, Tenobe switching round as best he could to support Nuuron as the Nautolon managed to bisect another Volurk.

Yhahsk needed only wear them down, Behrns frustration rising as his expletives increased shouted behind the mechanical helm as Zweihander puttered against three amphistaffs, each of the three Extolled chomping at the bit to obtain the prize of a Cataprhact skull to lay at the Avatars feet.

Numbers were beginning to wear them down, Dover catalyst reserves depleted and the Volruks, while down to half their number were getting clever to the Cataphracts tricks.

Blade slicing another Volruk arm off as his fist punched and other off Nuuron,  Tenobe’s goggles filled with yellow rays of laser radiation signals.

Pounding boots echoed down the hall and the snap hiss of zweihanders activating bounced off the walls.

Nurhl Baz-Rhadde, Triarch of the Cataphracts had arrived.


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 15, 2021, 04:30:07 AM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object — Part 5

Reclamation

The enormous Cathar, Primus of Triad Aurek strode forward as his Secundus and Tertius blasted the Volurks assailing Triad Leth to so many chunks of meat relieving them in an instant, diving his own thoughts into the Battle meld the Triad pulled back, except for the stuck Behrn who fought on.

Barging past Nurhl’s blade severed an Extolled straight down the middle as he relieved the Primus, his armours copper sheen glistening in the saber glow, standing almost a head above the already huge Behrn the Extolled bellowed for an even greater trophy to be won.

Durandal blade of his ancestors, earned by toil in his hand Nurhl launched into the abominations with a kinetic wave to shudder the air and wrong foot them, then fell on them roaring like the Lion that was carved into his chest piece.

Triad Leth was quickly working to incinerate the blorash jelly pinning their Primus as Nurhl battered the Extolled, their writhing serpentine weapons sparked against the plasteel of his outer amrour, took grooves from the crab shell and flesh from the arms and chests of those he caught.

Behind him the rest of Triad Aurek

Any sane entity would’ve baulked and fled at the ferocity of the enormous Cathar Cataphract, for the mad zealot Extolled it added fuel to their bloodlust flames.

Thud-Bugs, coufees, blorash, Vinewhips, Plaerin Darts, Amphistaff venom, all this was seared to ashes on Durandal’s glowering yellow blade as Nurhl expertly deflected the stream of attacks with dexterity that defied the bulk of his plate, in between ramming home elbows and knees into the Vong who embraced the crippling pain as a sacred balm.

Only the Cataprhacts, the Triarch knew, could fight such an enemy of such rank insanity and utter perversity who loved Death in battle more than life in peace.

Pushing them back to a four corner intersection, shattered lights and a half consumed corpse on the ground Nurhl crushed the last Vong in his bare hands, rending the head from the neck with an upward twist.

He knew that was not the last, head never ceasing motion as he took in the vast array of data coming in through the suits sensory suites, his muzzle sniffing intently as his fangs were bared beneath the bronze polished helm.

“Where there are Spikers there’s a Shadow….” Berhn hissed his goggles seeking any possible spike of colour from the dull brown background radiation and pastel blue radio frequencies.

He had barely finished the last syllable when shadowed blades struck.

The Cloak of Shadow was cast off as the Twins directed all their Aetheric energy into their Phase Blades temporarily turning the Bloodstone weapons to pure Aether energy as they sprang from the shadowed hollows between the ceiling and the vast overhead pipes and conduits.

Secundus Hevrin Mal-Tagge and Tertius Olan of Triad Aurek moved in slow motion to Evaea and Eyvns sight as they drove the incorporeal weapons through their necks, the out of reality weapons by passing the ablative gorgets completely. 

The Force Callous of the Ancient armour slowed the penetration and dulled the Phase blades, giving the two elite warriors time to fire and stab at the Aethans, but the damage was dealt and as the Twins leapt to the walls as if gravity were an irrelevance to them, the blades left in the pairs necks reverted to their normal physical form, displacing meat and metal even as their sharpened Aether edges cut the Cataphracts very souls.

Both buckled as they felt themselves painfully exposed to the whole of the Force, their energies gushing out into the infinite sea of the Cosmic Force from the wounds the phase blades had dealt as their necks exploded in pain with the sudden intrusion of the bloodstone that reintegrated with their flesh.

Nurhl spun and Behrn fired at the now revealed assassins who darted toward the Triarch - the Aethan Assassins primary target - who without his Secundus and Tertius would be that much more vulnerable.

To their credit and Nurhls pride Hevrin and Olan both managed to raise their Zewihanders and advanced a few steps, swinging at the Twins and forcing them to dodge, buying Nurhl precious time to spin around in the tight confines and raise his own guard. 

Evyn hurled back a magma mine that clamped onto Olan’s fingers gripped round the zweihander, an instant later it heated to 400 degrees celsius then rose 30 more each half second searing her fingers into the hilt, combined with the Soul and neck wound it was too much. 

Evaea’s poisoned darts bounced off Hevrins armour, the Cathar Secundus managed to get another slash in as the bloodstone merged into his neck and bleeding out the Force slowly killed him, she ducked under and drove her poisoned dagger as deep as she could between groin and thigh plates, the toxins capable of killing an Aethan overwhelming what resistance was left in the Cathars body. 

Nurhl felt the dire ricochet of death through the now dead Battlemeld, willing without words the ancient Cathar injunction of  Malja watan to Hevrin, and with no less solemnity praying the Deep Old Ones of Yinchorre accepted Olan though he died far from the Veldt.

If the assassins thought the deaths of his Triad would in any way slow him, they were mistaken.

The Triarch blitzed forward Zweihander held in one hand, Gatling laser blaring on the other as he unleashed upon the Twins even as they moved from their deadly finishing moves.  Pounding shots blasted into Evaea’ side as she sprung away, the Zweihander smashed into Evyns shoulder as he turned.

Like the black-purple silent mists of Dypseth the Anzat trained pair tried to envelop the lone Triarch, trusting in their decades honed skills to eliminate the last of Triad Aurek. 

Their swords, darts and mines were hurled with incredible precision, the Force subsuming the weapons to conceal their origin, path or destination on the towering body.

Nurhl Baz-Rhadde was not so easily overcome, bashing aside with kinetic counter blasts and his zweihander the majority, his armours ablative plasma clouds absorbing the rest.

In the cramped tunnel he used his bulk as a weapon, shouldering and dominating the space to limit their movement as his weapons furiously rent through the wall, floor and ceiling carving hissing molten trenches.

Behrn now recovered surged forward to help but soon realised he would only get in the way.

Quick and inhumanly strong as the Twins were, they were hard pressed by the Triarch as the entire corridor was laid to waste around them as their magma mines and darts were lodged ineffectually into the walls eating into Galteas mantle, Hexes and precision lightning attacks of little use against the Triarchs bronzed armour, amongst the most seasoned of all the Catapahracts legacy it had rebuffed the Sting of Sith and Darksider lighting and Magick so many times since Ruusan Nurhl barely needed to make an effort in his Force defences, leaving him free to pour all his energy into speed to match the lithe creatures.

His Beskar breaker never stopping as his feet twisted quicker than they imagined he could in such heavy plate he finally bore down on Evyn, catching the young Aethan in the thigh - Evaea tried to round behind him, as she passed his right shoulder Nurhl slammed himself telekinetically from the left, making his own heavy body a battering ram that crushed her between him and the wall as he stomped on her brothers leg and crashed his blade down against Evyn’s trembling sword.

The Cathar quickly relented the grip knowing the pinned assassin would use proximity to try and get at his armour joints, pivoting quickly to grind her deeper into the wall and then headbutt her with the full force of his ancient helm.

Had she been human she would’ve suffered fatal internal injuries and broken her sternum and every rib, the genetic engineering of the Technocracy rendered the injuries only crippling as the Triarch pumped round after round of Gattling Laser into the scrambling Evyn - the Oblivion armour held but was becoming brittle and flaking under the repeated barrage.

Another shouldering ram of Evaea and Durandal once more swung into Evyn, this time knocking his sword from his hand, the blade itself clattering broken to the floor.  Behrn with cautious speed made ready to grab the would be assassin.

With ice reflexes Nurhls torso twisted unnaturally as a Blackstone blade cleaved off half the mane of the Lion engraved upon his chest - the ruin of the decoration a small price to pay for saving him from being skewered completely.

Something as heavy and as hard as the Triarch slammed him forward, Evyn rolling just in time to avoid being crushed as Nurhl landed heavily.

<Go> Jarys hissed, brooking no argument as the Cathar Cataphract snarled with frustration at the interloper.

The Twins quickly scurried past the man who had seemingly so long ago also beaten them down on Dypseth.

Trapped behind his Triarch in the claustrophobic corridor Behrn couldn’t see what was happening clearly, but his Multi-Specs caught the outline of an appreciably larger figure than the two assassins.

As soon as he could move, Nurhl was Charging, Durandal hissing with blood lust that poured from the Cathars' very soul.

In advance of the two champions, shockwaves of kinetic Force waves smashed against each other, blowing out what little remains of the pipes, wires and walls to either side.  In the wake of the shockwave Blackstone met Beskar-Breaker in a pulse inducing clash that sent sparks flying briefly lighting Behrns Multispecs painfully bright.

Jarys was grudgingly impressed that Nurhl was as fast as him - Nurhl equally respected the Shadow Warriors physical strength matched his unaided by the Force or Power Armour - Nurhls was supplemented by both.

Knights and Silvers by the dozen would’ve been severed or blasted dozens of meters by the incredible momentum any one blow in the furious duel delivered, the impact of which ran up through the combatants backs and into their knees causing them to tremble. 

Jarys hadn’t fought an enemy like this since the Jedi High Sentinel Yshrrk, Nurhl since he trained with Soban before his genetic condition all but ended his friends marital career.

Behrn watched in rapt awe at the glimpses he caught from behind his Triarch still seeking to find a way to assist yet somehow stilled by the pure idyll of such a duel.

Nurhl pressed as hard as he could, drawing on the fresh still hardly comprehend of the loss of his Triad to fuel his blows and keep the Force as his bulwark to finally bring a Shadow Warrior down, unrelenting as the Immoveable Troika, merciless as his Ancestor Saril Baz Rhadde with Durandal

Jarys could see the tide was against him, the Triarch was peaking in his fury, and behind him a full - if injured - Triad.  Jarys might be able to take down the Triarch, but the damage inflicted in return would be so vast Triad Leth would finish him without effort.

Pushing out of another furious saber lock the Aethan First Warrior sped all four of his implosion grenades along the ground, Nurhl pushed back telekinetically but his divided Force strength was enough only to hold them hovering in the air.

With a grunting effort Jarys teleported one just behind the Cataphract - any closer and the Force Calloused armour would interfere - then released the switches.

Trapped between the explosives Nurhl had to break his attack and bundle himself as small as possible, covering himself in a kinetic Force shield as the implosion grenades twisted air, metal and space itself around him.

Behrn turned side on to limit his exposure to the blast, Triad Leth offering what power it could to bolster the Triachs defences as the Multi-specs showed a vicious inward twist of all radiation in the grenades radius, swapping their wavelengths to the inverse then compacting them so tightly they bound to near physical form.

With a snarl Nurhl leapt as the last mass distorting waves dissipated - but his enemy Besital was nowhere to be seen.

“Next time…” the Lion of the Vhal’Dan growled.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 15, 2021, 04:30:50 AM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object — Part 6
This occurs in the hours after Schims the Vhal’Dan Civil War Chapter 22.  http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg696707#msg696707 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg696707#msg696707)
<<<<>>>>

Resolution
Heavy though his boots were Nurhl footsteps were barely audible in the hallowed halls deep within the seculsiam of Istic Fortress. 

Built atop a rocky Mesa on the Nimati Plains of Galtea far west of Vhal’Udhav where a large area of low depth metamorphic rock made agriculture and construction unviable, the Fortress was the center of Camp Rhadde, the Cataphracts vast base and training complex.

The Seclusiam were chambers, accessible only by the Initiated Cataphracts and a handful of carefully vetted civilian staff for essential maintenance and like. The whole fortress was a labyrinthine web of corridors and dead ended charnel halls, choke points and columns carved in the form of ancient Cataphracts that were mere fronts for deadly plasma lance traps.

The paths were never quite the same, automated servo’s changed the internal layout of walls and paths every two days in peace time - every four hours in war.

Even so, Nurhl could walk these paths in response to his summons to the Memorial Chamber in his sleep.  This place, the Cataphract Order, was in his blood.  The descendant of the mighty Saril Baz Rhadde, through his blood, pain and tears Nurhl had earned - Not inherited - his ancestors armour and palace as Triarch.

On his hip was Durandal, the zweihander that had consumed Sith Blood on Ruusan, every plate was comprised of more than half of the original metals and polymers that his ancestor had worn, upgraded and reshaped over the centuries between them in response to damage and advances in technology.

He passed a triptych of windows that looked across the vast camp outside - and served as sniper points in the event of attack - spying the shimmer domes of three of the six vast 2 kilometer diameter Training Biospheres - each of the six that surrounded Istic were wonders of micro-geoengineering, replicating the temperature, gravity, pressure and natural features of different battlefields- one lush as the deep forest of Yavin, one cold as Hoth, mountainous as Ilum, another blazing as Mustafar, his favoured - Dome 4 was a micro recreation of Vhal’Udhav itself.

Between Istic Fortress and the Domes were numerous EMP Moats, Ground to Space Weapons platforms masked within barracks and support structures, a vast network of tunnels and trenches making it arguably the most heavily fortified location on Galtea, and as such it had been studiously avoided by the false Kage and his Shadow abominations.

Striding through the Gilded Doors of the Honoured, 4 meter high double doors of silver with active-Mercury reliefs that changed shape every few minutes to show one of over three dozen scenes of Cataphract battles past Nurhl was surprised by the first the of the three beings awaiting him, saddened but happy to see the second, and utterly shocked at the third.

They stood on the rounded mosaics of the Memorial hall, around them statues of the Triarchs in Kortosis and obsidian, a number of empty plinths awaited Nurhl himself and future Triarchs.  At the Far end of the circular room, Primus Inter Pares, was Saril himself, in kortosis carved the very zweihander and armour Nurhl now wore.

Slamming his fist on the snarling Lion of air brushed Bronze that was his Chest plate Nurhl bowed his head to the Kage - the True and only Kage - Anson D’Aklon, his friend, and saviour.

As much younger men, during the Bfpasshi uprising, Anson had saved the Cathars life. Broken and beaten by a horde of cultists in the days before he joined the Cataphracts, Anson had come to the rescue of Nurhl, barely a Tediowan at the time, cutting down the throng of cultists to pry him bleeding, fur scorched by tasers, from the ground.

Even at that young age Anson D’Aklon had cut an indomitable figure, he took the Cultists apart from the rear, lopping them off at the knees, Force pushes like hammers blasting them off of Nurhl.

Renewed the Cathar had joined him scattering the mad men with their kohl painted eyes and blood red sashes over wiry bodies drained of physical sustenance by ritual fasting but strengthened by the nefarious powers they courted.

Ever since that day Nurhl had felt an obligation, perhaps not to the level of a life debt as wookies incurred, but a deep honour that only grew as the pair came to know each other better over the years.  Whilst their paths had diverged as Anson climbed the political ladder and Nurhl joined the Catpahracts they had maintained a connection and exalted in the others success.

When Arkady Cyne had been murdered by Kazic’s agents - of this Nurhl was certain despite false rumours of complicity of Ansons supporters - Nurhl knew he could never accept another Kage to lead the Vhal’Dan from the terror that had overtaken the Mak’tor and Jedi in recent years - with the honoured Odjina and…orthodox Kimars...respective assassinations.  Ovarugs incessant squabbling and recalcitrance only further entrenched Nurhl and the Cataphracts to stay with the True Kage.

“Kage, We are honoured by your presence,” he nodded with respect as far as his gorget would allow.

The Kage returned his nod, the familiar sight of the golden eyed Cathar, sporting tinges of grey amidst his deep copper brown fur was always welcome, a walking symbol of the strength and vitality of the Order. 

To Nurhls eyes Anson, fully armoured apart from his head, helmet under the crook of his elbow, looked harried, eyes dark as if he had not slept for days, undoubtedly the physical toll of the reverses they had suffered against the Shadow warriors.

Beside the Kage, in a hovering Med-chair was Emeritus  Master Gray Vilhynn Soban, once Primus of Triad Besh, Nurhls right hand for nearly fifteen years, age had not been kind to the Vhal male, a condition of muscular hypertrophy that had made Soban far larger and stronger than his typically lithe species, and enabled him to join the ranks of the Cataphracts was now crippling him in terrible pain as the weight of his overly large muscles ground his bones and pinched his nerves. 

Determined to serve, Soban had taken the role of mentor to younger Cataphracts when he could no longer actively fight, and was now a father figure to half and brother to the rest of the Cataphracts, his humility, patience and wisdom without peer in their order.

Nurhl nodded with a smile to his old companion, Soban returned it, but a half grimace from the endless pain creased the Vhals dusky brown features, his once full thick black-gray hair ever thinner. Nurhl winced internally for his honoured brother in arms.

But the one who truly shocked Nurhl stood behind them all.

Nearly three and a half meters tall, encased in a brutal black matt plate was a Cataphract Nurhl only recognised from her force aura - her face concealed behind a blank face plate.

The Hamask Ksorallyne Apus.  Sora to her few friends, the Lasat woman, member of the sub order of Hamasks - Cataphracts unsuited by more, aggressive, disposition, for a Triad, last Nurhl had heard she was at death's door following the Promenade incident that had left her Teidowan dead and her body all but cinders.

To see her standing now defied his belief.

“The Honour is mine my friend,” Anson gestured to him to join the group.
“Forgive my intrusion of the Seclusiam, but there is little time, events are reaching their climax, and we needed to speak without delay. Your engagements against  the Anzats’s animals have progressed well I hear Nurhl,”

“No apology is necessary Kage, the war takes precedence, and yes they have, every Triad had been studying the footage and briefings in between missions, we were ready for them...yet each time they frustrated our efforts preferring to run than risk a decisive confrontation”

The Triarch spoke with no sense of derision, tactical withdrawals and retreats were a necessity he too utilized to preserve his comparatively small number of Cataprhacts to ensure they could fight on through a long campaign.

Anson nodded soberly

“Ever since the Shadow warriors arrived we have been on the back foot, your Triads efforts alone seemed to have blunted their advances enough to prevent a catastrophic collapse….but...last evening...I engaged the Leader of the Shadow Warriors myself,”

Neither Soban nor Nurhl concealed their shock.

“My Kage…I had not heard...”
 
“It was on a…metaphysical plain,” Anson explained quickly

“It confirmed many of my suspicions, Kazic does not control these beings, they control and dictate strategy to him now…”

“Are you recovered…were you…” Soban spoke, his voice strained in his own agony, both cataphracts could tell Anson was not recovered fully and had likely come straight here after the ephemeral conflict

“Victorious…” Anson smirked recalling the Flow Walking battle
“No…but nor was I defeated…and I obtained valuable information…”

Anson pressed a few buttons on his gauntlet to summon up image of the Shadow Warriors

“I have seen the truth of our enemies numbers, their intentions, and their plans...they number only 19, including the leader, it’s been their rapid deployment between combat zones and carefully planned acts of brutality that, I admit, had us believe there were more of them.”

Soban shared a glance with Nurhl, 19...that was manageable, if only just, with the 30 Cataphracts they had on Galtea. They had previously thought there were at least 40, making Nurhl cautious on pursue them too aggressively.

“And we haven’t been able to predict where they will strike…their deployments random and confusing to deny us a chance to pin them -now I understand it is because they are few and they are afraid…”

Anson paused pinching at the top of his nose, the Force swirling in strange time churning ways about him  - Flow Sight Nurhl realised astonished at the Kages abilities.

“But now…I have seen their intentions in the Flow…There are possible futures I have...muddied...in which we can act...they are avaricious scavengers, greedy for technology and Force artefacts, my few remaining spies in Kazics camp have confirmed a substantial number of rare minerals and Force artefacts have already been handed over to the monsters,”

“I’ve also seen reports of Educational facilities and Manufactories having their computer systems hacked, museums looted of objects after the enemy retake an areas,” Soban confirmed, unable to join the front lines he had been supporting intelligence services by providing his own analysis after delving the myriad reports that came in on the Shadow Warriors.

“That very covetousness will be their undoing,” Anson concurred with a ferocious glint

“Without his monsters Kazic is nothing, only fear of the Shadow Warriors has caused defections, not conviction, once your Cataphracts destroy the Shadow Warriors the war will be over,” the Kage said his confidence filling Nurhls breast with pride.

“I’ve begun to draw my forces back to Lus’phor, to consolidate and prepare a counter attack, in the Flow I’ve seen the Shadows will use this as a chance to divert their troops to looting three key locations, Hephaestus base, Camp Rhadde itself, and, following me, Lus’phors Kyber refineries…”

“Hephaestus Base?” Soban asked, having never heard of it.

Nurlh looked to the Kage who nodded assent to reveal the secret known to barely a dozen outside the base itself.

“At the Northern Pole under the  Joste-dal-sbreen Glacier, Hephaestus Base, is a secret research and manufacturing facility to which many of our best scientists were evacuated early in the war, I oversaw the operation personally…”

Nurhl paused

“Kage, how did they learn the location,”

Anson smiled bitterly

“They haven’t, but they will...such are the complexities of strategy using the Flow...”

“We will defend the facilities to the….” Nurhl began

“You will not.” Anson cut him off
“We will allow them to attack and succeed in infiltrating and taking the base, the Fortress and the refinery…Our forces will put up a strong fight…but they will lose…then, when our enemies are fatigued and lazy in victory and theft…your Cataphracts will strike and obliterate them even as I destroy their leader myself…with his allies gone our forces will relaunch from Lus’Phor and pick apart Kazics forces trapped on Galtea and demoralised.”

It struck Nurhl momentarily as merciless, reckless even to sacrifice so many valuable lives.  He quickly disabsued himself of such doubt, the Kage was the Kage because he was willing to bear the burden of sacrificing the few for the good of the Order.

“The Flow is precarious, the future uncertain…to warn them of the attack, or do anything that might alter it will deny us the advantage…our enemy Must foresee a moment of success to ensure they still act as I have anticipated.  Even with my other traps we must be careful, If we deploy too many Cataphracts in any one location the water will spill over the cup and the future will be lost…”

“But with too few the trap may not succeed at all,” Nurhl replied

“I know…” Anson replied glumly with a sigh

“..this new theatre of strategy is...difficult to operate in…” he stared into an ephemeral distance Nurhl could not, and was in some ways thankful, could not see.

“Each order I give, each motion I make changes what I see, makes the future tremble, already those futures are on the verge of toppling, any more changes will cause me to lose the only tactical advantage we have had for weeks.”

“I understand Kage, attempting to take advantage of a future event you have foreseen by deploying too many Triads could potentially cause that event to not occur at all as the cascade of causation leading to that point changes too much...” 

Nothing was certain in war, less so trying to fight one based on premonition…but Nurhl had absolute belief in the wisdom of the Kage he was honoured to serve.

Anson could only nod grimly, a modicum of solace to know Nurhl understood the frustrating limitations within which he had to work to exploit these hard won opportunities….

If only he’d had more time to develop his Flow Walking skills, understood the true scope of what could be done earlier in the war...Ironic that it was Kazics monsters that had forced Anson to realise just what he was truly capable of strategically. 

In the present the stern cathar bowed once more astonished and inspired by the burden his Kage carried.

“By your will Kage, The Cataphracts will honour and defend the Vhal’Dan .”

Anson stepped toward him placing a hand on his shoulder

“I know you will, my friend, now…” Anson puse,d again staring into a realm of time Nruhl could comprehend

“...now we must plan carefully, I have already foreseen the role Sora will play, a critical one I assure you, but the rest we must determine this very hour…”

The next forty five minutes were among the most tense Nurhl had ever experienced, he was thankful of Soban’s presence, even as his body suffered the Master Grays mind was sharp as ever.  Plans and scenarios were put to Anson who used his Flow sight to check if it were ‘viable’

Anson could not predict the outcome, only the event.  An event was unviable if the wrong number of Cataphracts, the wrong entry point, or indeed in some cases the wrong Triad itself was chosen.  An error would cause a ripple in the Force the Shadows would sense and the attack would not come.

As the scenarios were tested Anson’s eyes grew more and more bloodshot.  Soban and Nurhl could see the strain, but said nothing.

Sora, taciturn at the best of times remained unmoved and silent, Nurhl wondered just how much of the Lasat was actually left within that armour - Maker knew what they had done to rebuild her at Hephaestus base in such a short time after such vicious wounds.

Finally the golden ratios were determined, the maximum number of Triads in each location that was just small enough that the Flow did not become so turbulent the stream branched off.

Sacrifices would have to be made, the Enemy had to be convinced the Cataphracts themselves were as small a threat as possible.  Hard choices were made for them by the necessity of the situation.

The plan was set within the hour as the Kage had required, the carved hollow gaze of former Triarchs around them seeming to nod assent.

“One last thing,” the Kage said as he turned to leave, Sora following close behind.

“Take this…” He took from within the robes over his armour a noneucilidan-nonahedron that seemed to defy three dimensional vision in its shape and glimmered slightly - and handed it to Nurhl.

“The Holocron of Xinis’zo - the first Aing-Tii to join the Vhal’dan, my Master Varel-zo bequeathed it to me, saying of Xinis ‘He almost understood the Rainbows colours fading into each other’...” Anson chuckled, so rare upon his face these dark days.

“I think it meant Xinis’zo knew more than even Varel-zo did of the Force...the Shadow warriors will not be able to resist such a prize kept in Istic Fortress on top of the other artefacts and materiel here,”

With trepidation Nurhl accepted the holocron that felt somehow...out of time...to the rest of the world.

“I will return this to you Kage,” Nurhl swore.

“Always in motion is the future,” Anson smiled back, his countenance then falling to grim reality

“I fear we three will not meet again in this life,” he looked to Soban and Nurhl, recalling the first time they had met on Vhal, when Soban had first joined the Vhal’dan turning from the oppressive path the Coven of Vahl had set him upon...and in the echo of that friendship a sharpened spike to recall also the brotherhood lost he once shared with Kazic.

It was Soban who broke the otherwise dread inspiring silence.

“We will one and all be untied on the Onyx tableau of the Honoured Members of and Allies to the Cataphracts,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 15, 2021, 04:31:28 AM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object — Part 7

Walking the Hall of The Immoveable, a statue lined walkways through the heart of Istic Fortress, each monument to one of the  Immoveable Troika, Anson finally paused to issue his final instruction to the Hamask Ksorallyne Apus.

It was a fitting place - the Immoveable Troika had fought some three hundred years before, the generation following the New Sith wars, against the 4th Krath Crusade. 

Three Triads to a Tribus...and three Tribus to a Troika... Each of the 27 members of a Troika were an army to themselves a single Troika was known to turn the tides of battle, even--no, especially!--against a numerically superior opponent.

The Immoveable Troika had held a critical bridge to the the Capital of Mygeeto for 3 days against thousands of Krath ZealoTroops and slaying the Dark-Cardinal in command of the army, buying precious time for Jedi and Vhal’Dan forces to flank the Krath army and deliver a crushing defeat.

Proof of how unrelenting will combined with marital skill in even just 27 warriors could turn the tide of a war.

Anson was certain of few things, but of this he was, the Cataphracts were the key to ending this war, they alone could stand against the god-like Shadow Warriors without fear, their battle bond divesting them of all fear, their size training and armour allowing them to come closer than any Knight to a match for the Shadows - perhaps not one on one, but certainly a Triad could fell an isolated Shadow. 

Then there was Sora, the looming bulk beside him that still smelt faintly of medi-plas and micro-metallics.

The Lasats' pain and grief were fuelling fires of Hatred deeper and darker than the Oblivion armour of their enemies.  What seemed a lifetime ago Anson would’ve feared her slipping to the Dark side.  No more.

She was gray, albeit so dark it trod the line of Black.

Hamask,” he ordered formally, voice bouncing off the hallowed statues.
“Your task, the role for which you have lived through the surgeries and cybernetic grafting is simple....”

Tall though he was he had to look up to the blank face plate, and strong as he was felt overawed by her bulk.

“I know Ovarug like a brother, I loved him like one once,” he admitted to her in the privacy of the empty hall

“And I know there is but one way to be certain - if my Assassins fail and after his Monsters are destroyed - he is personally crippled beyond any hope of recovery.”

Nausea twisted in his gut as he prepared to speak the words, to pass the sentence, on those he once loved.

He needed to let the sting of her treason acidify his compassion and fond memories, and speak as a Kage should, for the good of the Vhal’dan.

“You will ambush and kill Saani and Aresaea K’aval,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on October 19, 2021, 03:57:42 PM
On Oblivion Gray — Unstoppable Force
Phenomenal perspective from the Aethan POV from "Schisms:" we now see past the veil that was oh so carefully crafted courtesy of Valens, both for Anson's and Kazic's benefit.  "Power perceived is power achieved" indeed...

Not only do we see just how tactically brilliant Valens' (and in her capacity as Matriarch, Karintha's) war strategy is able to influence and direct, obfuscate and subvert the two former brothers, but also in how doing so, we see the realization that one of the remaining powers of the day will be whittled down to a more manageable level (at least in Aethan estimation) to deal with...although something tells me that this is not the last of such conflicts involving our favored Demigods & Grays, respectively...

But one of the most sorrowful casualties of the Civil War (and there are MANY) has already occurred before the opening salvos have even begun: the burgeoning relationship between Ari and Mili.  Worse still is that because of Ari's own conviction, love, and loyalty, she has blinded herself (much like how Kazic had concerning his own brother Anson...another "family trait" that is unfortunately prevalent in both generations) to the deeper truths of the motives of each architect, be it her father, her Warchief, her Matriarch, or even herself.  And now, her love and loyalty has encountered its own schism: the love for her parents vs. the love of her People vs. the love of her heart.  Ever is there but one conclusion for such conflict: pain, loss, and sadness.

And that's not even counting what Mili's prediction (and subsequent feelings) will inevitably presage...

Meta-note: absolutely AWESOME posters, LSG!  These are truly spectacular works of art, perfectly supplementing the incredible narrative  :)   Also: for those of you who have been following along, I have to say that LSG's input and shared continuity has been instrumental in the progress of my own stories, easily improving them^^  And, yes, these scenes were spoken about/planned if not exactly storyboarded/written years ago.  THAT'S how good LSG is 8)


On Oblivion Gray — Immovable Object
And now the OTHER half of the equation: we see just WHY Anson's faction--despite being bloodied, misdirected, and pushed HARD--were a DEFINITIVE threat: they had the courage of their convictions, in this case perfectly exemplified by the various individuals: the rank-and-file to every Primus/Secondus/Tertius in their Triad belonging to the larger Tribus...part of the whole represented by the Cataphract Troika.

What makes this chapter so remarkable, emotional, enjoyable, & compelling ARE those individuals: the disparate peoples of different races, each one part of the hetrogenous collective that made the Cataphracts (and, indeed the Galtea Union) so strong.  But it is the single PERSON, the individual characterization, that hits the mark perfectly.  In this War, from the most junior Tertius all the way to Nurhl Båz Rhadde, the Triarch himself, is a character that is invested in the Vhal'Dan, in the belief and realization of their convictions for the betterment of the Order.  Wonderfully written.

Among the remarkable characters, Nurhl stands out IMHO: he is both "father to his Cataphracts" as well as a loyal lieutenant and friend to his Kage.  One can certainly see in him all of the GOOD qualities of his ancestor, Sarll (as well as having none of the latter's BAD qualities).  No wonder the Cataphracts survive throughout the centuries, even into the Present Day timeline (even through the Jedi Purge courtesy of Darths Vader and Sidious): with ALMOST every single Triarch an example of what a laudable and noble Gray Jedi SHOULD be, they are a force to be reckoned with.

...Too bad this isn't the case during the Second Gray Jedi War.  Oops, nothing to see here; move along  ::)

One of the best things that LSG does is choreographing battles, where his written words disappear amidst the action and adrenaline of the scene(s).  This is particularly evident here in this chapter!  I could FEEL the utter hopelessness (yet determined nevertheless) of Tol Yoru as the Aethans just steamroll through their lines, death as sure and swift as the coming night...only to be halted with the timely arrival of the Cataphracts.  Each of the Triads--Aurek through Qek--dealing with the insanely dangerous (and superior!) Shadow & Spiker Warriors, their own Legacy as important as their respective armament (from names weapons like Balmung and Durandal to each Cataphract's heirloom armor), their strength more than just their Battlemeld and the Dover Catalyst protecting them.  In many ways, they are the mirrored obverse of the Aethans: a singular unit/organism (the Troika) but one made of several, disparate parts.  Interesting juxtaposition versus the Aethan Isolationism/xenophobia (and intended, I'm sure  ;))

Of course, there ARE exceptions, in this case, the Hamask Cataphract Sora.  Once again, the Promenade Incident looms large in the lives of the Vhal'Dan, affecting those even encased in a literal shell of armor.  What of her role in Anson's overall strategy?  Is she to be an Executioner?  Savior?  Perhaps neither...

One thing is certain: the conflagration will only be more explosive the longer the War persists, the casualties piling up despite the abrupt halt of the War courtesy of the Lus'Phor Holocaust.  But not before Death has collected on the Butcher's Bill shared between Valens, Kazic, Anson, and their respective people...

Meta-note: This is my favorite chapter (thus far!) of my favorite story  :)  FAN-TAS-TIC!  I don't know how you're going to follow this amazing action up but I can't wait to find out  :D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 20, 2021, 09:37:06 PM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 1
>>>> 3 Days Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust - These Events Occur
Between Schisms The Vhal’dan Civil War Chapter 22 and Chapter 23 <<<<
(https://i.ibb.co/PwQ5Y7r/Mother-Daughter.png)

Saani

Saani K’aval had only ‘met’ five of Ari’s people.  Spent meaningful time with only one apart from Aresaea herself.  

That was Kiraea, a…woman…who looked barely a year older than Ari…was impulsive, impatient, provocative and astoundingly powerful.  Saani had never met a being who combined such martial skill, enough to drive Saani’s own husband into a feral rage when they fought, with juvenile delinquency.

She had hoped Kiraea was an outlier.  

She was wrong.

“Stop hitting yourself! Stop Hitting Yourself!” the girl Ari had identified as ‘Lya’ giggled as a Nithorn tediowan repeatedly bashed itself in the head with the hilt of its lightsabre. Around the oblivion armoured girl were a number of ‘captured’ soldiers staring giddy into vacant space or laughing under some kind of Force compulsion.

“Bored now,” Lya declared and with a series of sickening wet pops the whole group she had ‘captured’ had their throats snapped and skulls imploded.

This girl, or woman…or monster…was astoundingly worse than Kiraea, more egotistical and manically sadistic…were they not fighting on the same side, Saani would’ve needed no convincing of the necessity of having such a being locked away in carbonite.

“Mother we need to move”  Ari whispered beside her, alabaster skin and red hair concealed beneath the shaded armour

Saani could only shake her head, checking her power packs as she crouched behind a fallen ferrocrete column in the ruins of the Sem’Piel Industrial Trade district before pushing her force presence downward as she used her Buried Presence technique.

Ari had already vanished.  Saani had taught her all she had learned about the Shadow arts in over thirty years, but in their comparatively short time apart Ari had, even accounting for her astounding armour, far exceeded her.

The brief lull in the fighting that had allowed Lya to ‘play’ was breached with the thunderous beat of mortar shells about their former position as the re-enforcement arrived.

Sem’Piel had been hit hard in the opening months of the war, the various manufactories and logistics warehouses razed swiftly in a lighting attack by Anson’s supporters deeming it likely many of the factory owners would sympathize with Kazic.  Since then it had been forgotten until Corvus had captured a weapons cache with power packs bearing marker ident stamps from Sem’Peil Power Solutions, a scouting mission uncovered a steady trickle of vehicles moving about the ignored area.

Further scans from one of Ari’s peoples vessels revealed radiation spikes consistent with the use of Ionization capacitors used to generate charge for power cells – Saani had been deployed to investigate further, the resistance they encountered barely two hours in confirmed the suspicions Ansons forces had reclaimed and reactivated at least part of the complex, or possibly had occupied it in secret the whole time.

She wove cover to cover through the ruin of twenty stories now littering the ground in artificial hills of duracrete, jagged durasteel spires of structural walls – little sign of ruined machinery, Saani suspected it had been taken underground before the bombing at the outset of the war…as if it had been planned well in advance.

Pressing closely in the shadow of an upturned air-conditioning unit she spied the advancing reinforcements. At least one armoured division, a handful of Knights…she had only twenty Shadows with her…as well as Ari, Lya and…

Amidst the advancing vehicles one of the troops fell flat on his back, two behind him in turn…

Sel

That one she had not met, Sel operated as a sniper utilizing projectile rounds that could be controlled telekinetically even at twice the speed of sound allowing her shots to ‘chain’ between heads and bodies.

Once a splinter of Commando’s had tried to attack ‘Sel’s’ nest, Saani closest had moved to assist. A single word had been spoken in her mind at that point, something Saani suspected only she and the other of Ari’s kind could hear,

<Lydan>

By the time she arrived ‘Lydan’ was in the midst of the Commando, a towering male wielding a blue flickering abyss black naginata, carving off limbs and ramming heads onto broken pieces of metal to set up a hideous totem.  

More and more she feared for her daughter under the influence of these…these…

She refocused, she had a war to win.  

The ground troops scrambled for cover, the Tanks and APC’s scanned for the sniper as three hovering assault platforms, rounded anti-grav discs covered with weapons on the top and bottom manned by three inside swept overhead laying down fire on her advancing Shadows.

“Redirect to the flanks!” Saani quickly ordered “Imoni, Castra, prepare the diversion in their path,”

Clicks on her comm indicated assent, Sanni looked about trying to see where Ari had gone, noting only a Phindian Knight in full armour, shoulder pad displaying Anson’s insignia proudly, advancing ahead.

Mechanical sounds and booming thumps erupted as Imoni and Castra deployed the Diversions – a specialised device that burrowed into the ground and sent shockwaves reminiscent of Heavy armour and attended sound waves and thermal radiation signatures ahead – for the armoured divisions scanners it would seem like another heavy armoured division was heading toward them at a rapid pace.

The Division immediately drew up and took position to meet the advance their sensors detected – giving the Shadows a crucial forty seconds before they realised there was no advance coming.

The Phinidian Knight reached out with the Force as Saani lithely crawled down a hill of rubble, her light footed approach and Buried Presence ensuring she did not disturb a single pebble.

The Phindians Reptilian eyes narrowed, he could sense something was amiss, he turned to speak…Saani drew her dagger and pulled back to throw…

A living shadow flashed from the left to push the Phinidan behind a cracked upturned tiled floor, Saani skidded down just in time to see Ari over the Knight blood dripping from her short sword.

It was an impressive silent kill, but it would be a matter of seconds before the repositioning troops noticed.

What occurred next terrified Saani.  

Ari dipped her armoured fingers into the gash on the creature's neck, then made strange eldritch signs in the air with the greenish blood lit a pale purple by Ari’s own Force powers.

Saani nearly gasped breaking her stealth as the Phinidan stood up and Ari pushed a rounded detonator into the rictus closed fists of the surely dead creature.

With a staggering gait the Phindian knight ran from cover back toward his troops line, any worry about their commander forgotten as he approached.

Until he rushed straight past the officer trying to tell him the attack was a diversion…and straight to the largest of the tanks, jumping up, his head flopping half off he rammed his detonator clasping hand into the main cannon’s barrel and killed himself a second time in the explosion.

A ripple of confusion spread across the Ansonites, the sniper fire continued to bleed them on the right flank, on the left two of the assault platforms tried to fortify a roughly square still half standing reinforced storage shed.

Their morale was on the edge with the seeming suicidal betrayal of their commander.

 It collapsed with another use of the name of Ari’s squads ‘tank’

<Lydan> Ari didn’t even need to indicate where she wanted him, he was guided unthinkingly by the telepathic meld of the three women.

Moving from his cover he took a running leap off an massive fallen I beam that creaked under his weight, leaping on top of the near Assault platform Naginata blade first.

It was like a Holo-role-playing-game team Saani thought, Sel was the sniper, Lya the scout, Ari the ‘mage’, and Lydan was the tank simply pointed in the direction of anything that needed to die.

The platform shook and buckled as he landed, chunks of metal ripped off,a black hand thrust inside and pulled one of the pilots screaming out, crunching the neck in his fist Lydan tossed the body aside and jumped in.  

Ari, hands and fingers moving in troubling synchronicity to Lya fifty meters away spun out with, a strange circular glowing symbol in front of her, replete with eldritch symbols, it projected half of the enormous Rancor like illusion that ‘leapt’ from the ground as Lya provided the other half.

The beast was five stories high and slammed it’s gross brown claw onto the second assault platform as Selaena fired one of her experimental Shikkar Rockets from a sniper attachment, the ultradense missile striking in perfect time with the illusion to make it seem like the platform had been downed by the beast.

Confused and panicking at the sight of a five foot Rancorthe Ansonites hollered a full retreat deeper into the ruins.

<<<<<>>>>

“Ari…that…that Phindian was dead wasn’t he?”

“For a brief time yes,” she stated matter of factly as she looked over the latest orbital scans.

After the retreat the shadows had regrouped before pushing forward - a necessity as Saani found a number of her own shadows just as traumatized as the Ansonites must’ve been by the necromancy, illusion and mental torment Ari’s people had unleashed.

“That was some kind of…” Saani could barely speak it for the terror it engendered not to herself, but her daughter to be adept at such heinous arts
“…necromancy,”

“Of a kind, though he wasn’t dead that long, it’s quite interesting actually, how you have to tweak the spell according to the decay rate,” Ari spoke as if it were any other saber technique.

Saani reached out and pulled her daughters shoulder to turn her around

“Ari, that is extremely dangerous,”

Now Ari sensed her mothers distress and cupped her cheek

“It’s alright, it’s only dangerous if you don’t have the proper training, I know what I’m doing,”

That is what I’m afraid of Saani didn’t reply.

 “They’ve moved deeper to the south east…” Ari refocused on the task at hand
“But I think they are trying to draw us away from here…”

She pointed out what seemed just another grid of ruined factories, switching the filters on the holographic projection from her gauntlet showed radiation signatures - switched to a three dimensional view Saani saw what Ari meant.  There was a distinct ‘down’ then across pattern of the radiation - an elevator then tunnel underground.

“If we split our forces send some of the Shadows to ‘pursue’ while we find a way into the underground factory,” Ari suggested

The poise in her voice, along with the new abilities affirmed to Saani just how much her daughter had grown in such a short time.
“We don’t have the ordinance or number to capture or destroy it,” Saani cautioned

“It’s not likely to have more than thirty or forty troops, perhaps half a dozen knights...we should infiltrate after we call in reinforcements, then we can have a larger opening ready for them when they arrive.  The Five of Us and half a dozen shadows should be enough”

Her daughter spoke with confidence grounded in experience and reality, it was a surreal change from the ever inquisitive pre-teen Saani remebered meeting so long ago.

“Mother?” Ari asked as Saani continued to stare at the woman now before her.

“Sorry, that sounds, risky, but possible, if you are confident in your abilities and those of your companions,”

Ari nodded

“Then we should get moving,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 20, 2021, 09:38:00 PM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 2

Sora

The only thing that pained Ksorallyne Apus, Silver of the Vhal’Dan and Cataphract Hamask more than the endless itch along the painful interface between her lavender toned flesh and the dark metal nanites that comprised half of her body, was the incompetence of her underlings.

“The Shadows are breaking off to pursue the armoured column Master,”  Tediowan Yolin’Gyl, a Givin with mediocre Force attenuation at best informed her in the command room beneath the ruin of Sem’Piel as she watched from micro-spy camera’s the battle above.

“Fool,” she snapped, her patience short at the best of time all but absent now

“Those Shadow warriors will not be misled, they will attempt to infiltrate despite their small numbers, such is their confidence, justified by short sightedness such as you have just displayed,”

The Givin’s already stretched and pleading facial bone seemed to lengthen under the castigation.

“Defence pattern Bech-6,” she ordered curtly, turning in her heavy Cataphract plate.

Every step and motion of her body now involved pain at the junction between flesh and machine - making her intolerant of the slightest annoyance.  Sora as she used for short had always been  cantankerous, now...now she had fully given into it.

Having the right side of your body - leg, arm, breast, eye, shoulder and most of her skull - burnt from you on the same day your Teidowan died would do that.

Her heavy armour thumped along the grated durasteel flooring that wove through the cramped manufacturing facility hidden in unused sub-mag tunnels and stations where space was at a premium.

She swept her head across the ranks of skeletal bone painted droids that welded and screwed power cells and batteries of all sizes together.  A seemingly mundane, but in reality absolutely critical resource especially after recent losses to the True Kage’s forces.

Sora had missed so much of the war - ever since the Promenade incident where in the collapsing and burning buildings she had used her 194cm of height and incredible physiology to rip rubble and lift collapsed walls helping civilians escape trying to reach her teidowan, Lanz Krieber.

Just as she reached him fires caused a nearby power inverter to explode, the electrical fire burning both and showering them with shrapnel.

Her flesh side twinged at the memory…

By her will alone she had survived, pushing what energy she could into Lenz...but...by the time emergency lifters broke through with their chipped durasteel claws pulling five stories off the hollow they were in after six days….

Lenz was gone, she was assumed to follow imminently.  

That was until a representative of the Kage himself had approached with an offer.  At the time she could not speak, her body was numb from the sheer volume of anaesthetics pumped into what was left of her.

“There is an experimental cybernetic treatment,” she forgot the gender and face of the speaker her remaining eye had been covered and ear still ringing.
“Based on a more…complete integration of the Dover Catalyst nanites into the users body….We can only attempt it with your consent to volunteer.”
With her remaining hand she clenched her fist in acceptance.

Twisted half remembered time passed in surgeries and physiotherapy, the nanite cyber limbs required ‘fresh’ wounds to cleave to, necessitating the removal of even more of her body to install the necessary affixation points into her flesh, invasive micro brain surgery to link in the nano-neural networks of the dover catalyst to enable her to control it in place of her lost limbs.

And pain, endless itching pain where flesh and metal embraced in friction.

Vhal’Dan regulars scattered to their positions, murder holes and bunkers within the underground facility she had plotted herself.

Many called the Hamask Cataphracts such as herself ‘berserkers’, ‘Dark Side Maniacs’ - they did not understand the planning and control that was needed to perfectly unleash hatred on the enemies weakest point that was her Art.

Yes she was dark for a Gray Jedi - her reconstruction had made her darker still….

Gripping a railing with her servo powered Cataphract gauntlets she felt the metal dent under her new cybernetic hand as she watched the endless ream of conveyor belts and gears pump out cabinet sized batteries by the dozen.

Yes she was in pain, grieving, Hating...

It all served to make her Stronger.

<<<<>>>>

Saani

Small fires still burned on oil pools, a pallour of khaki dust covered everything, her scanner picked up spiks of radaition from breached containmet fields on fusion cells, various industrial chemicals hung in vaguely pink haze over the center of what had been a thriving industrial zone.

They encountered a handful of probe droids, those they could not avoid dealt with by toppling loose ferrocrete chunks to draw their attention.  In the distance they heard the sounds of thumping artillery and the eerie echo of exploded ordnance.  

The occasional fly over forced them to hunker under their Chameoline cloaks or in cover.

With the bulk of the Shadows harrying the armoured division on its faux retreat, Saani led five Shadows and the four Aethans through the thickest rubble.

“There…” Ari gestured to what seemed just another crater with a perhaps unusually flat base and building collapsed down the rim directly toward it.

“They must use that building to get to the elevator…” Saani replied noting a few cracked rounded pieces of durasteel protruding from the craters opposite rims - evidence the explosion had severed an underground mag rail line...or rather was intended to look that way.

In two parties they skirted the rim to the building, in the former office block Saani, Ari and three shadows went through they found a far greater number of motion sensors and heat imaging cameras than anywhere else in Sem’Piel their scouts had encountered.

First contact was at the ‘top’ of the fallen building, its eight stories on a 30 degree angle of repose into the crater.  Four regulars were comfortably positioned in vantage points that offered a complete view of the surroundings.

They were taken out without a sound flopping back into the tight corners they had occupied.

Saani led the advance down the sloping building whose wall was not the floor, scattered files and furniture offering innumerable places for traps and sensors requiring a slow and gradual approach till they reached the base, where under a false floor was the hatch to the elevator.

Saani searched for a consol or connection to hack open.

“Lydan,” Lyaea whispered pointing some five meters to the side.  The tallest Aethan strode over and with a single hand pulled off a dyna-bolted maintenance hatch grate Saani hadn’t even found yet.

“Well hidden,” Ari said as they sounded out the hatch.  While narrow it would just be possible to get down.

“Sel will go first and clear the traps...but I sense by the time we hit the floor they will know we are coming.”

<<<<>>>>

Sora

“No response,” the Givin Teidowan stated the blindingly obvious, the guards at the main entrance had missed two scheduled check ins.  Cameras and sensors on the main entrance building were repeating the same steady state signals - clearly hacked into loops.

“Any movements on the main elevator?” Sora asked arms over her heavy plate breast armour, towering over the Givin as she filled the tiny room with her metal bulk.

“None, still on the mezzanine level,”

“Then they are entering via the maintenance ducts. Acid wash it.”

“Why not the explosives?” The Givin asked - she really ought to take the time to learn his, or was it her?, name.

“Try them,” Sora sighed.

The Givin brought up the linked in defences and hit detonate.

Nothing occurred except a spinning red wheel on the screen [System Unresponsive]

“They disabled those as soon as they got in, fool, the acid,”

With a nod the Givin complied.  The automated cleaning system had been adapted to spray corrosive and noxious gases instead of chlorine and anti-mould agents.  It would do little damage Sora knew but it would be an irritation and wouldn’t have been high on the list of traps to counter.

“Now it begins...Cresh 3 Flame them out!” she ordered.

<<<<>>>>

Saani

Acid fell from above, torrents of raw plasma flame from industrial torches burnt up from above.

Saani felt the sweat boiling off her as propped knees in her face, feet on one side of the maintenance tunnel, back on the other as she shuffled down.

She fumbled to tighten the seal on her shadow-breather helmet to ensure no acid or gas got in, but she could feel the heat spread by conduction up the wall.

There was whispering in her mind among Ari’s kind before she heard a heavy thud as something dropped.

A break in the plasma heat...shots...a gurgling scream…

<Lydan>

How… Saani wondered, the ‘Heavy’ was six shadows above her!

“Ashla’s Mercy!” she heard Chiri squeak above
“He just vanished!”

Force Teleportation Saani realised, it explained how Lydan seemed to appear wherever he was summoned...but Maker knew how much energy that was taking him even over a few meters...Saani expected his Armour must be somehow designed to exponentially reduce the Force drain needed, but even so he likely had to spend extended periods in between ‘recharging’.

There was more noise from below, the heat dissipated through the metal before it could burn into her Chameo-Suit...just…

She descended moments later to find three dead soldiers, bodies splattered against a far wall, and Sel hunched over, her light eating armour gloss with a wax like sheen from the heat.

“Is she alright?” Saani asked as her Shadows and Lyaea secured the exits

As if indignant at the challenge to her health Selaena straightened back up

“Fine” Ari said for her,
“But her armour is weakened,”
Even Oblivion stone has limits Saani realised almost thankful.

“Keep to the mid section then as we advance providing sniper fire,” Saani suggested Sel not responding except to move exactly where Saani would’ve positioned her.

“They know we are here...let’s use that to our advantage, Elspin, Kreen move in advance of us, see how deep you can get, and if you get a chance at the commander take it, the rest of us move as one.”

<<<<>>>>

Sora

The enemy were advancing quickly, just as Sora intended.

Her artificial eye scanned with starling speed between the linked in feeds, from the cameras increasingly blotted by the shadows as they advanced to the heated forging chambers where molten metals were injected into ceramic moulds, the bubbling orange glowing fluid forged into hundreds of powercell casings and other components each second before being dunked almost white hot in rad shielding coatings.

The former subway maintenance tunnels had been converted to the forge in which she would herd the enemy.  There amidst the blazing heated metals their characteristic Oblivion armour would buckle and bend all the more easily, the thermal extremes distort their senses, and the new subroutines worked into the molten injectors would turn them all into weapons.

She would turn the industrial equipment on them, any exposed flesh would be seared, heated dollops of liquid durasteel eating in deeper in excruciating pain she knew all too well.

And Lenz a whispered voice in the back of her mind reminded her.

The broken brunt form of her teidowan reared itself like a spectre before her eyes.  The one she had failed.

Her cyberaugmentics snapped on in response to the emotional arousal, nanite spikes protruding from her armour scaring the Givin out of his wits once more.

“Initiate Defence Patter Cresh 2,” she ordered with a hiss.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 20, 2021, 09:40:27 PM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 3

Saani

Ari had been correct in her assumption the factory was not heavily staffed.

But what the defenders lacked in numbers they made up for with automated defences, well positioned killzones, and multiple defensive barricades to cover their retreats as Saani’s...or perhaps Ari’s...force advanced.

The Factory was a warren of steel and ceramic, grinding gears and chain belts ferrying half assembled components along ranks or mechanical arms that spat flickers of plasma to fuse components before ramming them into magnetized capacitors that created electrical potential difference.

There was a smell of Tibanna gas from somewhere further on, clearly not filtered to a humanoid safe level as it seeped out in gradually accumulating micro amounts from where it was compacted into blaster packs.

Saani and her shadows used the clutter to their advantage, slipping in between narrow openings, often dodging spinning machinery to flank hard points, climbing upside down on gantries to come in under turrets and plant EMP’s.

They were making progress, but it was slow, and their resources were running low.

They got creative, using the environment to their advantage, taking unsealed power packs from production lines to create makeshift explosives, redirecting welding arms to turn on hovering drones.

Ari and her People were economical in the use of the Force, using it defensively rather than bashing down any obstacle as they were becoming famous for, though Lyaea used a combination of impenetrable stealth that Ari termed the ‘Cloak of Shadow’ and mind manipulation to turn a few of the guards on their brethren in suicidal attack runs that left the others shaken.

Sel added to the chaos by conjuring incredibly lifelike illusions of ‘Vorynx’ predators on Ari’s world.

Unwarned Saani had feared it was some monstrosity that Anson’s forces had deployed till it mercifully ran at a heavy durasteel door covered in opening and closing slats from which the guard fired - it drew their fire to allow Lydan to creep up and with his raw strength pull a quarter of the door open and toss in an implosion grenade that churned the rest of the door into a compacted wafer of metal.

Yet as always it was Ari that Saani focused on.  Her control, her confidence to walk into what was obviously an area with overlapping fields of fire and bounce the bolts back with her sabers so calmly as though it were merely an exercise, giving Saani and her shadows time to strangle each marksman from behind.

Her daughter had grown without her.

Releasing the garroting hold on the limp guard Saani simply watched as Ari strode forward and without so much as gesture pulled three more from their barricade, they hung in the air like frozen corpses, arms and legs pinned tight to their body as Ari effortlessly extracted information on defences and the facility layout from them.

All those guards saw was a blank Abyss coloured monster that flickered with purple here and there.

Saani saw a pre-teen red-haired girl with wide eyes and mouth gaping at the sites of the Stryka-Annix Memorial gardens.

But which of those is truly her now? Saani wondered?

The Guards were levitated closer, Saani felt herself holding her breath expecting the wet snap of necks…

Ari dumped the three on the corrugated iron floor behind her and walked on.

Astounded as they were terrified they scrambled to their feet and ran in the opposite direction, past the scope of Sel and Naginata of Lydan who acceded to Ari’s injunction to let them go.

Both was the answer Saani realised.

<<<<>>>>

Sora

Blood dripped from retractable nano spikes as the Shadow, Elspin sent in advance of the main force  quivered.  

He had done as Saani asked, slipped by the defensive barriers and made it into the level 2 security zone where he spied the Cataphract armour.  Taking his chance he had made a perfectly timed leap, saber poised to ignite into the thin gap between the neck and shoulder.

Receding back into the experimental armour the spikes that had skewered the would be assassin let him drop lifeless to the floor.

A bold attempt to be sure Sora mused, but a pointless one.  There was nothing in a Shadows equipment that could penetrate regular Cataphract armour without the most precise - not to say lucky - blow - let alone her Prototype plate integrated with dover nanites.

She withdrew the spikes with the sensation she would associate with opening her now absent right fist, the neural sense of closing it caused them to spike out.  

All her new advanced cybernetic abilities had been similarity mapped to the somatosensory cortex for the right side of her body, and the use of any always caused a phantom limb pain...but the corpse behind her proved it was worth the discomfort.

Trampling through the corridors she paused at a minor flash in her right eye.  The cybernetic implant was able to translate the entire electromagnetic spectrum into her brain as varying shades of yellow or red.  At first she thought it a glitch, but no incongruity could be ignored while there were spies.

Her armour servo’s on a low setting she paced toward the doorway to a programming annex her advanced range of vision spied the attempted distortion of a second figure.

Kicking out her ‘leg’ a chain like appendage of nanites spread from within the shell of her armour at lighting speed to strike the figure.

Kreen swiftly moved but was caught by the nanite bladed extension that was barely a finger’s length wide in her hip.

Twisting round she fired off her pistol, the shots bouncing off the ablative armour without even activating the electrical counter measure, a grenade lobbed ws equally ineffective as Sora advanced far more quickly than Kreen imagined was possible in such a bulky suit.

The fight was brief, Kreen’s saber a light pink hue was barely lit before Sora’s yellow saber staff crashed onto her in time with the Cataphracts in built blasters denying Kreen range of motion.

The sheer force of Sora’s blows that mixed Lasat physiology with cybernetic strength and Cataphract powered armour soon shattered the comparatively diminutive Passadan’s guard, without pause Sora finished the intruder with a kick- genuine this time, that imploded the rib cage.

Two down

<<<<>>>>

Saani

“There is a new master in charge,” Ari explained as they stalked through what had once been ventilation ducts for the subway line, again using every aspect of the cluttered manufactory to their advantage.

“The Guards don’t know the name, only that she wears a heavy suit of armour and has a foul disposition.”

They were not headed to the control rooms, rather the southern tunnel were trains ferried the power cells out and would, if protocol was being followed - enemy reinforcements within the next fifteen minutes.

They waited as three carriages loaded with cells zipped by before leaping out.

One either side of the track they began setting their charges.

“I’m glad you let those three go,” Saani said breaking the focused silence

“There has been enough killing already, more than I’d expected…”
Ari attempted to shake the thought with her head
“just like she said…”

“She?” Saani asked programming the timers.

“A….friend of mine, back home,”

Saani could feel the discomfort and regret peak before Ari suppressed it - a mother knew.

“She didn’t come here did she?”

“No...she… is a very good friend, and I didn't like how we parted,"

"Just a friend,"

Ari paused, looked to the side, then down as if trying to find another topic...before returning to her mothers gaze across the tunnel that would not leave her,

"I'm not sure...she...she said I shouldn't come to Galtea...we argued and..."

"And you came here anyway..." Saani could only sigh and place an arm around her shoulders

“She warned me things wouldn’t go how I thought...I imagined we would force Anson to surrender in only a few days once his fleet was shattered...I didn’t understand how intransigent both sides had become…”

Saani felt a sting in the statement, aimed less at her than at Kazic...she recalled a number of times she had confided to her husband the dangers of the paths he had taken, and perhaps regretted she had not been more forceful.

“Ari you can always apologize, I’m sure your...friend... will understand, now come on let's get out of here…”

Her motherly advice done, they scrambled back through the ducts their HUDs counted down till the moment the next train came past.

Two implosion grenades and three thermal mines - the entirety of their remaining consumable explosives - detonated as the middle carriage passed them at perfect time.

Power cells and batteries popped with furious arcs of energy as the implosion grenades turned them outside in exposing energied cores, the train buckled on both sides and sprawled with a grating crash into both walls that shook the tunnel for kilometers in every direction.

Sora felt the rocking and growled, checking again the displays that showed the infiltrators supposedly pinned in Section Cherek.

Her forces were a quarter of their starting number, on the verge of fleeing.

Now was the time for the Hamask to rally the Vhal’Dan.

<<<<>>>>

Lyaea

A comm ping indicated more of Kazic’s forces were arriving soon to take the prize of the largely automated factory, they need only find a way to open the main hatch, ensure there were no self destruct mechanisms or disable any that did exist, and ideally mop up the remaining guards.

Selaena and two shadows were tasked with the first objective, Lyaea and Two remaining shadows the second, Saani and Ari the third.  Saani suspected Lydan was hiding to recharge his Force energy for teleportation, and if Ari called his name he would appear.

Their enemy scattered across the facility, and reinforcements now stuck behind the ruin of a subway train filled with dangerously unstable power cells that had not yet exploded, the guards preference to secure the main control room was denied by Sora who brought them out, rearming and replenishing equipment she led twelve less quaking troops through the still churning factory, till at a command to the Givin the entire operation fell silent.

The thrum and spark of assembly died an instant later, an eerie silence broken only by the odd drip of metallic pop as machinery settled.

Ignoring the change Lyaea set to work on the baradium bomb hidden beneath an underfloor access panel in the rough center of the former subway station now crammed with gantries and building sized industrial equipment.  It took her back to her days on Commenor with Kiraea and Adaea, learning all the trick from old Colm Maynard on typical failsafes and redundancies on locks.

She heard the footsteps and felt the mass before the Shadows did, though they were not far behind.  vanishing into their buried presence they  wordlessly left her to intercept the attackers.

Shots fired, screams, the snap hiss of one...two lightsabers...a mechanical whirl and crunch...lives blinked out...not enemy ones.

“Shavit!” in a single motion she swept up and out bow in hand arrow drawn to see a hulking tower of armour overshadowing the eleven guards.

Fast as Lyaea’s arrows fired Sora’s shields activated, counter projectile measures hitting the oblivion arrows to reduce their momentum by 75 per cent, making them bounce harmless off the plate not even triggering the ablative plasma clouds.

Not good Lyaea thought, always keeping her eyes on the big one she danced to the side as a broadside of fire came at her ahead of the charging hulk.

Sora was surprisingly swift in her armor, but the Aethan woman’s inhuman dexterity made the gap just too wide.  Lyaea snapped more arrows against the guards who fell clutching gaping wounds where Sora could not extend her defence.  

Lining the Cataphract up Lyaea bounded from pillar to ceiling down swords drawn and charged by the aether with enchanted flame and dathomiri malacia hexes.

She crashed into Sora’s saberstaff and felt the unnerving thrill of surprise as the nanite spikes jutted from the armour toward the joints of Lyaea’s Mark II armour as they ground against each other, Lyaea realising this monstrosity was physically stronger than her, a rarity at the best of times.

Worse her enchantments had no effect on the Armour - while recrafted to facilitate the cybernetic nanites, the plate itself was still a legacy piece from the New Sith Wars, worn by generations of Hamask’s through countless battles it had developed a ‘Callous’ in the Aether as Melron termed it, rendering it, if not immune, then substantively certainly resistant to aether attacks.

Before she could disengage, the Nantie ‘limb’s struck under her left arm, and back of her right knee.  The red sense of pain filtered through and she dropped less than elegantly off, raising her lightning shield which caused Sora to pause her follow through.

Sora had seen all the vids of these things, knew they were more mortal than they would have others believe, and she had just proved it...but she also knew their array of Force abilities was without peer.

Scrawling a protective spell around with one hand, and a Spatial distortion enchantment with the other Lyaea grinned beneath her helm.

<Lydan>

Sora’s danger sense exploded as she felt a twisting of space time behind her.  Servo’s staring she turned in time to catch Lydan’s blow as he teleport shunted in through Lyaea’s spell-portal.

Far stronger than his sister, Lydan was still barely a match for the Cataphract and pulled back to use his better dexterity with the Naginata, but Sora’s saber staff glowering yellow would not let him be, a torrent of blaster fire from her gauntlet added to his trouble as nanite limbs snaked out.

Lyaea’s attempts to support her brother with arrows and telekinetic attacks were largely rebuffed by the Hamask cataphract armour - as many scratches and dents she made the nanite auto repairs filled in the gaps - and her attention divided by sealing her own wounds.

Sora’s Force attacks were far more efficacious.  The Blackstone armour was designed to soak up Force energies or provide a teflon surface the powers would ‘slide’ off.  The intensity of Sora’s grief powered her blasts to a level that could not be soaked or avoided, bludgeoning Lydan as much as the saber staff as he tried to gain distance.

Shikkars and detonators bounded from both Aethans armour, Sora’s cyber limbs snapped to knock them from the air shattering the glass daggers and sending the explosives flying to detonate harmlessly, splays of brightness that illuminated the massive form of the Lasat the only effect.

It was like fighting a Dreadnought on two legs, massive, metal and mindless, there seemed to be no consciousness for Lyaea to try and manipulate, no thought patterns for Lydan to disrupt, only towering adamantium focus.  

Despite her wounds Lyaea sprang back into action with her sword and a cluster of illusions.  The complete spectrum cybernetic eye that linked to sensors across her armour meant Sora was not at all fooled by the salivating rancor and vicious canine-like creature loping toward her according to her flesh eye.

She stood in the eye of the storm of Abyssal weapons and strange magicks, slowly grinding down the pair who showed increasing concern that Sora was not fatiguing.  Force lighting from Lyaea couldn’t overload the heavily insulated Cataphract armours powered limbs or nanites, Teleport shunts from Lydan couldn’t outmaneuver the speed of the Hamasks guard.

Two onto one they were losing.  

Avoiding a nanite limb, Lydan’s right leg was scored badly by the saberstaff, which coming round nearly took Lyaea’s arm and left her exposed to a nanite bladed tentacle, her irritation at being hit again obvious.

Tasting blood Sora doubled her intensity, battering the naginata away in the same sweep that divested the other of her sword, releasing her grip with her cybernetic hand Sora ‘reached’ with phantom nerves to extend her arm by 30 centimeters allowing her to grab the throat of the larger of her opponents.

Shock was absent in Lydan’s focused state, but the cracking red sensation of a metal vice crushing his neck was not.  He slashed at the arm causing only metal chips to fly off as Sora kept Lyaea busy with her nantie limbs and saber.

Three perfectly aimed phirk bullets slammed into Sora’s hand just as she had started squeezing the life from the young Aethan.

Selaena was always quick to protect her children.

A steaming hole left from the pellets was soon in filled by the nanites and Sora tossed Lydan hard into the far wall charging on the new opponent after dismissively battering Lyaea into the ground with her sword.

Selaeana opened up on the Hamask’s face plate but the energised rounds bounced off the tougher layers.

The Aethan mother barely switched to her short sword in time.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 20, 2021, 09:41:21 PM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 4

Saani

“It’s strange,” Saani said as they crept through the cramped crate lined loading station where a mag train now sat idle, the conductors and guards sealed in the cabin while the alarms set off by the earlier explosion blared.

“Barely a few months ago I thought the war over, our position untenable, now...it seems only a matter of time before Anson capitulates.  Yet I’m afraid what will follow, the wounds are so deep I’m not sure they will ever fully heal,”

She vaulted atop three stacked shipping containers as Ari just ahead flipped onto a loading cranes arm, clearly using some kind of weight reduction ability as Saani was certain in her armour Ari weighed at least 300 kilo’s.

“Perhaps the Vhal’dan will need to separate, or perhaps there will only be one side left” Ari suggested without a hint in her tone of the gravity of such a statement.

“Perhaps…” Saani continued to follow as Ari landed on top of the subway train crawling seemingly on her fingers and toes to the cabin.

Reaching the top hatch, still cooling metal where it had been welded shut minutes before they arrived, Ari simply trailed her finger along the hatch, then without any seeming effort punched it once.

The durasteel cracked completely along shatterpoint lines, fragmenting into hundreds of pieces.  Barely had they fallen than Ari flipped inside.

Saani had barely reached the hatch when the screams from within were silenced and Ari flipped back out.

Saani glanced inside, of the six occupants only one was dead - the head torn from the body entirely and sitting in the middle of the floor as the others pressed as tightly to the walls as possible in terror.

“The only way forward is to eliminate those who won’t surrender,” Ari continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened

“Was that man one of them?”

“Yes,”

“How could you tell?” Saani asked, perturbed by the cold culling mentality.

Ari shrugged as if the answer was self-evident. 

Her daughter seemed to forget she could ‘see’ things in the Force that Saani could not - and had lost the youthful enthusiasm to explain that she once possessed..

They moved through the rest of the station swiftly, resistance was already dying down, but a handful of power pockets remained.  Where they could not simply slip in and eliminate the ‘obdurate ones’ as Ari termed them, her daughter would simply take them on directly, bashing back blaster bolts with her saber then lifting the entire floor, or bringing down half the ceiling.

The worst was one particularly strongly held position, two fixed guns at the end of a narrow corridor that led to the control room, the flat walls offered no cover, the low ceiling no chance of acrobatic avoidance.  the bolts hammered past them at the far end.

Indifferent to the intensity Ari crafted a sizzling glowing set of symbols in a complex hexagon before her, Saani had seen something similar in an old book on Force Witchcraft, without a word Ari spun round and hurled it down the corridor.  Neither the shields nor heavy Durasteel barricades could stop the Malacia curse hitting.  The cannons stopped firing, retching sounds followed.

Fearlessly Ari walked down the corridor, a flick of her wrist turning the cannon barrels upward and pulling the barricades to the side to reveal four guards, all their helmets were off, two had their trousers off, a third desperately trying to remove theirs. 

All were vomiting and soiling themselves profusely, eyes red or in the case of the sullustan a sickly yellow, pustules growing on their faces.

The Malacia attacks strength bordered on torturous.

“Are you coming?” Ari asked as Saani simply stared as one by one utter exhaustion and fluid loss caused them to pass out.

Saani caught up as the control room door with heavy bolt locks loomed before them.  Ari swiftly tore the numeric pad open and began slicing it while Saani stood watch, seeing in the twitching bodies just how far her daughter had gone down a path into knowledge and powers she could barely understand.

“Ari, when the war is over, what are you planning to do?”
“Do?”
“Are you planning to stay on Galtea, help with the rebuilding?”

Ari kept working away at the code cracking for a moment.

“I...don’t think so, my People, we’re trying to…”

“It’s alright,” Saani said, realising how leading and uncomfortable her question had been, forcing Ari to justify not staying was not fair. 

“I understand you have your own life now, your own responsibilities, as it should be…”

Saani smiled as she realised the tension in herself

“But I still worry about you, will always wish I could be the one guiding and protecting you, but I have to accept you’ve grown into your own person now,”

Ari paused from her hacking to take Saani’s hand
“I’ll always be your daughter, and always need you,” 

They squeezed hands, Saani feeling the incredible strength that far surpassed her own, and knew that Ari needed her support, not her protection.

The door chimed open revealing a cramped room full of screens, dials and consoles standing before the largest of which back lit by green holo’s was a single Givin, trembling but gripping a saber tightly.

The snap hiss ignited the azure blade as Ari stepped forward waving her hand.

“Put it away,”

The Givin shook it’s skeletal head

“I’ll never surr….”

The Koawan found himself absent, his saber hanging upside down in the air, ankles gripped by Ari.

“Don’t be a martyr needlesly Yolin’Gyl,” The Shadow creature said as he swung in her grip, his brain roiling as fluids flowed down into his head.

Saani was already on the Consoles, her slicer in the data dock transmitting schematics and defence plans, with this they would have full control over…

THUNK!

The Givin dropped to the floor as Ari spun around staring at a small security screen where a vast hulking form fought two figures indicating on the camera by blacked out pixels.

“Mother something is wrong,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 20, 2021, 09:46:16 PM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 5

Ferocity

A red haze indicating critical damage spread across her somatosensory cortex.

Selaena ignored it as she pounded along the narrow corridor.

The clash against the giant Hamask had gone...poorly…

Her armor damaged from the acid and flames was all but wrecked now, her weapons broken by the glowering saber staff, and children barely able to stand as they fled.

At every intersection they found more Vhal’Dan guards, most behind fixed placed guns unleashing torrents for balster fire while the Hamask pursued relentlessly from behind.

Only their native physical speed kept them ahead, but it was patently clear they were being herded.

Backward blasts of lighting and kinetic balls did nothing more than irritate Sora as her legacy plate shrugged off the half hearted blasts.  The Lasats long leg and nanite prosthetic worked in painful tandem as she hacked at the enemies backs.

Lyaea was limping badly, left arm limp, Lydan was having to move backward as his back armour plating was ruined and three serious saber wounds forming a W on his flesh, Selaena had nasty open wounds where the nanite limbs had pierced her shoulder and abdomen.

That they had been fighting for days prior to this was a Obilio leaf of justification to hide the simpler truth - Sora was stronger and more ferocious than any one of them.

Sora gnashed and growled as she fired more shots into them as they now all but crawled down the narrow path under jutting pipes and support columns into the depths of the factory area, her guards held in reserve finally proving their worth ensuring every side corridor and vent they might try to turn into was secured or laced with traps.

She was driving them straight into the forges, taking another chunk of their armour with her saber staff every few meters.  She could barely fit in the repurposed maintenance corridors, the yellow white tips of her saberstaff endlessly slicing into the walls as she twirled it like an advancing drill.

The Aethans tried to hit back where they could, it did nothing more than gain them a few more steps on the path Sora was driving them, and where the corridors narrowed or were clogged with fixtures she made them pay for with more oblivion plate taken off and more wounds inflicted.

A dead end loomed ahead as the family of aethans ducked another solid beam blast from Sora’s armour mounted cannon.  The heavy rounded door with an archaic looking wheel handle loomed ahead, a thin slit at the top beaming an eeries orange glow.

Two guards positioned to the side hit the override and the door to the Rad-Coating chamber opened.

The heat slammed Selaena in the face in time with the horrendous realization she had only two options - Forward into the industrial crematorium or back into the saberstaff of the Hamask.

Sora made the choice for them, feeding on the endless itching pain of her cybernetic grafts she doubled her speed and forced them to rush forward even faster, tripping on the lip of the door way.

The family sprawled into the boiling forge, hissing and clanking combined with radiant heat off vats of molten metal to overwhelm their damage scored senses.

The guards sealed the door behind Sora as Lydan sought to use the environment to his advantage, burning his aether stamina to try and hurl blobs of melted durasteel or redirect injectors toward the hamask while his mother and sister looked for anywhere they could gain a height advantage.

The Lasat shouldered such paltry attacks aside and ran straight at the shepherd, they clashed again Naginata against saberstaff as Lyaea tried to swing under the grated metal floor to stab at the Lasats feet. 

Both found themselves easily countered, Lydan bashed to the ground once more, now his helmet compromised, Lyaea kept at bay by the nanite limbs, one sneaking into the weak point around her neck guard and stabbing in - the nanites anatomical targeting functions fortunately not tuned for Aethan biology sought in vain for arteries in a configuration most humanoids possessed, but settled for deep bleeding gashes before she could free herself.

Selaena leapt onto a swinging vat of metal, her legs sporting numerous cuts from the saber staff she tried to push the vat to tip on the Hamask, Sora too quick hurled her saber staff at her, she stumbled, Sora bounded at Lydan who over extended trying to take advantage of his briefly unarmed opponent.

Sora met him with crushing fury smashing his body with a half dozen servo powered blows before catching her returning saber, Lyaea straggled to reach her brother and took the blow intended for his neck in her back - the Oblivion armour took the brunt but the tip of the energy weapon still struck at her mid spine.

Selaena infuriated rushed forward swords spinning, bashing Sora’s nanite limb defences aside and planting the blades infused with aether energy into the Hamasks side…

It was the wrong side - they breached the outer plate but cut only into the nanite cybernetics that moulded around the blackstone intruder rendering it harmless.

Sora snapped round and grabbed the Aethan mothers head in her grip, squeezing with all the mechanical advantage the nanites could proffer cracking the helmet and Selaenas head inward, only that Aethan bone was so much stronger than humanoid average did her skull not collapse inward.

Lyaea sprinted to help, Sora slammed the Aethan down her boot crushing into Selena's breast as the younger woman launched at her, desperate Lyaea extended a Null field around her.

It only left her more exposed.  The loss of the Force was an irrelevance for Sora, her cybernetics and rage were physical advantages that would not be denied, though her reflexes slowed the ethans injuries meant their usual advantage was lost, the Saber staff easily countered then slammed the comparatively frail Aethan across the factory floor.

Hamask surveyed the so called Oblivion Monsters battered and broken, their faces partially visible beneath dented helmets showed such plain human-like features, the two women might be clones but for the red hair of one and white of the other.

If these had caused the Vhal’Dan suffering it was clearly, in Sora’s opinion, because the Vhal’Dan were weak, indolent, fearful of the darker urgings to indulge grief and hate that gave Sora the strength to endure the pain of the cybernetics and turn it against her foes.

Once more the Hamask Philosophy of war was proven effective.

Her saber staff humming even above the bubbling rumble of magam metal and creak of moulds breaking fresh power cell casings free she fired indifferent shots with her arm mounted cannon to keep the further two down while dragging up the one under her boot and bodily hauling Selaena over the edge face to face with the orange glare of durasteel made liquid.

The Kage had instructed her personally to - if possible - take one of each gender of the Monsters alive - but not necessarily intact given the danger attendant with transporting them.. 

That left his one to satiate her blood lust with fully.

<<<<>>>>

The whole infiltration had been upended, Saani had watched with horror from the control room as the Hamask did the unthinkable, bashing down three of Ari’s People.

Ari had not hesitated to run to their aid, only to find the facilities guards had not so much regrouped, as had been waiting for this all along.

Saani kept pace as best she could as Ari without breaking stride sent shockwaves of kinetic energy onto balconies, under floors and down corridors where the guards lay in wait, rarely strong enough to kill, but knocking them off their feet long enough to get past.

By the time they reached the door to the forge they had a tail of over a dozen guards.

Ari skidded and in a single twirl pulled her hades pistol and shot the guards at the door in the heads, put three more rounds into the lock, yanked the door free from its hinges with the force then turned to face their pursuers.

“Go I’ll deal with them,” she instructed her mother,

Saani slid past without a word into the inferno of the forge just as bubbles popped molten metal onto Selaena’s face, even the hyper-keratin of the Technocracies genetic engineering failing and drawing her face in a sick wax like melt.

 Blaster out Saani fired straight into Sora who was once more frustrated from finishing these fur-gnats off.

Sora growled and hurled her saber forward, her nanite tendrils currently tearing the precious armour from her victim.

Saani dodged the spinning saber staff, elegantly moving under the blade then gracefully coming up saber at the ready to take on the Hamask.

Sora’s internal database quickly recognised the Twi’Leki interloper her True Target all along -  Saani K’aval, this truly was a mission worthy of a Hamask.

Saleana grasped and clawed but the cybernetic pull would not be denied as Sora fired her arm mounted weapons at Saani and the Aethans, bolts smashing Lydan in the back as he curled round to protect his sister, his throat still sore from Sora’s grip, armour holding if only just.

Saani wove through around the Hamask avoiding the fire that left orange heated wounds in the walls and ladders, the twi’leki knowing her ranged weapons were of no effect against Hamask armour she had to get close and be very, very precise.

She got close.

She was precise.

But this was no ordinary Knight - this was Hamask.

Saani hit the activator on her left saber just as she rolled and skidded under Sora’s arm, only to find the gap that should be there filled with dark oily metallic Dover nanites that shimmered and fused into another layer of protection that her purple saber hissed against.

The distraction gave Selaeana a brief chance to struggle back and Lydan and Lyaea to help their mother.

One of the fractured orders blademasters, Saani fought on as the Aethan Trio retreated, more than happy to let the filthy twi’leki die.

The Hamask’s heavy armour and nanites blunted Saani’s attacks to little more than irritants.  Every single joint and weakness was filled by the mercury like nanites, spikes that sprung out and retracted back gave Sora a further advantage - usually Saani could get in close to a saberstaff wielder, deny them the sweeping range the two bladed weapon needed to maximum effect, here she could only skirt the edges.

Perhaps worst of all in the intense heat of the forge Saani began to realise just how fatigued she was - how long has it been since she slept? Ate?  Eighteen, twenty hours?

The boiling heat was causing her to sweat profusely, body hugging stealth suit uncomfortably wet as her hands became ever more clammy, the radiated heat making the metal of her saber increasingly painful to hold.

The Hamask had chosen her battlefield well, Saani beginning to seriously consider this whole expedition had been a trap, the Power cells planted under Anson’s prescient guidance knowing the Shadow Warriors would be drawn here.

Saani was not so easily dissuaded, the Hamask had beaten down the Aethan trio, but they had damaged significant  portions of the Cataphract war gear, while the dover nanites had repaired a third, there were still weak points with lodged oblivion flakes Saan could aim for.

Purple and gold clashed in the heated orange glow, the fiery inferno about them a reflection of Sora’s own bruning grief filled soul that turned and let in potent dark energy to fuel the endless swirls of her saberstaff and bone crushing kinetic waves.

Saani kept focused and calm, ice water to cool the flames, when their blades were not locked she drove into the dents and gashes the Aethans had left, the nanites increasingly struggling to keep up.

But ultimately it was a losing battle, Saani didn’t have the stamina after so many hours to fight a war of attrition with a Hamask more machine than flesh.  The Twi’leki summoned up still sizzling power cells from their moulds to hurl at the Hamask -  one in ten hit but it struck the Hamasks helmet.

Molten metal cracked and blackened Sora’s helm on the flesh side of her face, with a snarl she had to tear it off - her saber staff wielded one handed allowed Saani and chance to get in close, two quick strikes to clear the two golden blades then lunge forward piercing the lower abdominal plate, the cataphract armour hissing resistance but the purple blade cutting through, the plate section dropping off.

But it did not reveal a bodysuit or flesh...just a circular bulbous device surrounded by nanites.

A Baradium bomb integrated into Sora’s cybernetic lower half.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 20, 2021, 09:51:10 PM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 6

Prodigal Daugter

Sora’s ravenous senses could feel the shock and desperation that ratcheted through Saani, knowing there was nowhere in this entire facility she could outrun or hide from the detonation which would be enhanced in strength by the molten forges, and utterly certain should Sora’s already fragile biological physical form be compromised a dead man switch would detonate the bomb instantly.

For this was what Sora in what remained of her shattered soul hoped - to finally join her Teidowan, to die as she should have under the building in the flames, if she took out a clutch of Shadow Warriors and Ovarugs Blue Skinned whore, all the better.

The door behind slammed open, two glowing purple blades strode out in the hands of a fourth Shadow Warrior.

Saani, still feeling the shock and processing options, of which there were barely any, turned to scream.

“ARI RUN!”

In that moment Sora charged the twi’leki again knowing she could not lose, Saani spun to intercept the first blow in a white hot flash then felt herself dragged backward as Ari rushed to her aid.

“ARI NO,” Saani resisted with panic and fury in her voice.

Calm and serenity flowed in the reply

“It’s alright mother,” Ari said slowly walking forward as she pulled Saani back out of the fight. 

“Sora, you’ve lost enough in this war, your Teidowan, your body, don’t lose your life as well,” Ari said with poise passing Saani.

Sora’s muzzle sneered through the crack in her helm, unsurprised the creature knew her name, even her background, they used such mind skimming abilities to manipulate their foes in Dun Moch maneuvers. 

Sora understood the truth, when an enemy talked it was because they were desperately seeking a pause to hide a weakness.

She attacked.

The fury of the assault was incredible, bestial even to Saani’s eyes.  The yellow saber staff and jagged nanite limbs never stopped clashing against Ari’s purple blades.

Ari took every chance she could to slice through the Cataphracts armours secondary weapons - her lasers first, Sora noted the attempt and fired off her last micro missiles, the tiny projectiles singing in the air. 

Confident in her own armour Ari didn’t allow them to force her into an awkward position, the micro-proton detonations raked against her Oblivion pauldron and back plating but didn’t penetrate, and her firm footing and micro telekinetic pushes ensure she wasn’t shifted by the shockwaves.

The Hamask was relentless, in every blow she saw herself destroying the enemy of all the Vhal’dan stood for - order, justice, balance, pitted against chaos, murder and primitivism.  She let that righteousness turn to anger, drawing on the grief of her Teidowans death and her utter hate of the false Kage the Oblivion monster served.

Even as the golden light of her saberstaff's twin yellow blades fought off the regal purple with sparks of white, Sora thrust a volley of Force Lightning at her armored opponent.

This wasn’t "Electric Judgment" as the Maenowans preferred, this rage manifested as thick indigo lightning bolts arcing through the air, striking her opponent square in the chest.

The blackstone took the brunt of the hit, but the sheer force was more than it could absorb forcing Ari to re-route her kinetic shield to Tutaminis to divert the excess, and while her cuirass was still intact, smoke rose from the jagged scratch where the Lightning had struck.

Her opponent retreating, Sora's conscious mind caught up with her actions.  And found herself once again unsurprised.  Not even the first time it had happened had she lamented using such.  The memory was still fresh in her mind...

"Careful, maenowan..." The tone broached no argument; there was no castigation, no surprise.  "...Remember: properly utilizing your anger--your more...base emotions--can be of great benefit, to you, to the Order." The Vahlan Gray Master's voice was matter-of-fact as his face shrewd with experience

"Walking the knife's edge of Light and Dark is a Gray Jedi’s unending Trial.  Master both without succumbing to the predations of either and you master Yourself.  Whomsoever is master of himself is master of the field."  Suddenly his tone turned hard.  "True failure is not having lost.  It is the apathy of capitulation." The last word was spoken softly, gently. 

Sora had almost smiled; Master Soban's quiet voice was incongruous with his stature - while Nurhl was the Adamantium Spine of the Cataphracts, Ravra-Pax-Crion the embracing Heart, Soban was the Conscience -  the universally respected Vahlan’s voice was the one thing Sora’s rage could not blot out.

Sora took his words to heart, but not in the way he intended.

She had never capitulated, not buried under the rubbles while her body was burnt, not on the innumerable clinical white tables as her flesh was painfully grafted to incomprehensible machines, and not now.

Master of herself, master of her body, her rage and hate had kept her alive and given her strength to endure the surgeries and endless pain others could not, and it would destroy her opponent.  Let others call it the dark side and moralise, she used her every weapons for the Vhal’Dan and that was all the justification she needed.

Her twirling yellow blades created ever-tightening orbits, forcing Ari backwards as she was forced to cover the weakened cuirass more intently...the perfect opportunity for Sora to activate her armor's unique offensive system.

Pressing forward Sora's armor sprang additional biomechanical appendages, already overwhelmed they struck Ari’s Oblivion plates rather than her armour joints only by quick fire telekinetic buffets

Sora knew the Shadow warrior would suspect the feint for what it was: from her heavily armored boot, razor-thin carbon-filaments flowed along the ground in the shadows, searching, seeking the armored feet.

With precision timing, Sora's armor wound the thin filaments around the legs of her opponent, if not fully binding then at least hindering.

Ari belatedly noticed the trickle grabbing at her feet as Sora intensified her efforts with her blade work.

Her feet pinned Ari’s motion was limited, albeit given Aethan extreme dexterity and joint range not as much as Sora would’ve liked.

Their blades bashed as their bodies got closer and closer, the spike on Sora’s armour scraping against Ari’s as the nanite filaments searched for any micro fracture in the leg plates to enter.

Saani could barely keep up with the motion, not just for the fact every light in the dim plant room had been long since blown out by the blasts of lighting leaving only the purple and yellow glow of the sabers to illuminate the conflict.

What she could hardly believe was that Ari could stand alone with such serenity against a Hamask who was drawing from infinite oil pools of pure hate.

Her every instinct dragged Saani to intervene, to protect her daughter, but another part of her accepted that despite the seeming imminent danger, Ari was a grown woman capable of choosing her battles and fighting them alone.

“One more chance Sora,” Ari said through gritted teeth as their blade locked and already erode armour plates scratched together
“You can still live,”

Sora didn’t need to reply. 

The Lasat had died under the rubble with her apprentice, what had been crafted from the remains was a weapon more machine than woman powered by hate and grief that would never be diminished, and win or lose the baradium bomb would correct the error of her survival.

This was not the Capitulation Soban had warned against, this was Sacrifice, this was action, this was Sora’s indomitable control of her own fate, and knowing when it was at an end. 

Ari with a half tear accepted the inevitable.

The carbon-filaments broke through her body glove and stabbed into Ari’s thigh, slowed by the hyperkeratin of Aethan skin but soon reaching muscle.

Ari used it as a direct link to the Hamask.  The Cataphract plate’s Force callous diminished Ari’s strongest aether attacks, but the nanites linked directly to Sora’s flesh were beneath that ancient hallowed armour.

Saani saw a woman, nigh on a Demi-goddess in total control knock back another bone shattering blow from the Hamask then glow in a faint purple all round that surges along the ground through the nanites and into the Hamasks own armour.

Ari stared into the Lasats single visible eye as Sora stiffened incredulously as the phantom sensations transmitted along the sensory circuits of the nantites that felt as if her ‘right leg’ was frozen and contracting in on itself.

A surge of power that doubled Ari’s squeezing heart and trembled her body was unleashed in controlled blast. 

The Nanites tore apart along the length from Ari’s leg to Sora’s ruined body, their strong nuclear bonds rent asunder by the Aether leaving them little more than dust.

What seemed like an endless river of sand poured from Sora’s armour plates as she collapsed, her wrecked body exposed and unable to maintain its stance.

The baradium bomb flopped out, its internal wiring atomised leaving the payload without a trigger.

Ari sagged at the extreme fatigue of the Disintegration attack she had unleashed, knowing it would leave her aetherically fatigued for a full day at least, but happy to pay that price to save her mother and People.

Sora’s body spasmed in violent trembling bursts of neurons barely adapted to their cybernetic interface suddenly losing all connection registering only the [Extreme damage] echo of the last moments.

But her will was undiminished, her one flesh hand still grasping the zweihander indolently hacking at the ground as she tried to shuffle her way toward the enemy, the universe collapsed on her once again, her strength failing her, her rage, her hate insufficient to overcome the limits of her broken body to save her apprentice.

On unsteady legs Ari pressed one foot on Sora’s ‘good’ arm then kicked her saber free.  The quivering Lasat blurted incoherent spittle laced curses as Ari looked down on her.

Saani watched as Ari’s saber tip hovered at Sora’s neck, the metal conduits that had linked the Lasat to the Dover catalyst nanites warming painfully in the forges heat. 

A single thrust and Sora would be dead. No one could begrudge the execution of such a deadly opponent.

Ari’s saber shut off with a dull hiss, leaving the half bodied Lasat speechless.

“Lydan…” Ari whispered sagging as Saani moved to catch her only to be outstripped by the young Aethan man who was covered in red shatterpoint arcs repairing every wound he had rapidly.

Ari leaned into Lydans grip as his sister and mother patched each other’s wounds.

Saani might once have felt put out that she was not the one to catch her daughter - indeed that Ari’s first word after such an incredible display of power and Mercy had been the name of one of her People not her mother.

But Saani wouldn’t let misplaced jealousy intrude, in Ari resting upon Lydan she saw only another family that Ari could rely on for support and strength, and an assurance that no matter what happened to Saani herself, or Kazic, Ari always had a place and protection.

And in Sora’s writhing form, mouth agape in impotent hatred Saani saw her daughter, despite the influence of her Xenophobic and vicious species, reatined the Empathy and Mercy Saani had always hoped to impart. 

Selaeana and Lyaea were up astoundingly quickly - albeit with serious limps and stooping - Lydan checking over the bodies as the reinforcements arrived to secure the facility, comm chatter, evidence growing that Ansons forces were in a controlled, but comprehensive retreat to Lus’Phor.

Finishing her debrief with the new facility commander, confirming details on the stockpiles of power cells that were sorely needed Saani finally caught up with Ari, their next deployments were apart, Saani’s order to investigate an old space port in the under works where it was believed more of Ansons forces were retreating from.

The alabaster skin of her daughter held an additional paleness that was slowly warming back up with a pink hue, Saani could only imagine the power needed to comprehensively disintegrate dover nanite bonds with the Force.

She sat beside her daughter on a crate full of power cells, a slight static charge emanating from beneath them, Saani’s own blue hand a stark contrast to the auburn red hair of her daughter as she stroked it.

A sad smile stole across Ari’s face.

“Sora isn’t a bad person...but when her teidowan died…” Ari explained with insight well beyond her years, born of her own struggle and loss.

“War can make you lose yourself,” Saani agreed

“Or expose who you truly are,” Ari mused, Saani’s thoughts troubled for what that might mean in respect to her husband and Anson.

But if it were also true of Ari, then Saani couldn’t be prouder.

Her daughter had grown strong, with a breadth of Force powers Saani could never have imagined - and more than that wise. Ari showed mercy where she could - an exceptional amount considering the influence of the rest of her People - did not flinch in striking down her enemies when she had to, but still felt for those she had to kill. 

The epitome one might say of a Gray Knight.

More than all this she was Aresaea the woman now, her own goals and life beyond Saani and Kazic.

“I’m proud of you Ari, of who you are, and who you’ll be,” her purple eyes locked with the aqua of her daughters,

“When this is over, promise me you’ll go back to this girl you have feelings for, that the two of you won't waste another moment apart or at odds when life is so short and so precious, catch every precious moment together like your Father and I have,”

Ari nodded, leaning into her mothers embrace.

Saani squeezed Ari tight as she could for one last time, some distant unconscious part of her knowing this would be the last moments they had unencumbered by the weight and pain of loss and injury, but content that in that last moment she had sent her daughter into the galaxy with the best of her own wisdom - to love and be loved and let nothing stand in the way of that.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on October 20, 2021, 09:54:08 PM
Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 7

Aftermath

Dust that was deactivated nanites ran through black clad fingers which closed to grip a portion of the sand like remnant and scry out its source.

Deep beneath ice and water...to the far north….Hephaestus base…

“A Hamask…” Kazic interrupted
“Maker…what did they do to her...” the Anzat stood behind Valens crouching over the body, Kazic not sure which was more astonishing, the extreme extent of the Hamask’s cybernetics, or that Ari had incredibly turned it to all but grains of sand.

Valens ignored him, rising and turning to Maekal

“Take the Lasat, armour and all the nanites to our ship,” he ordered the younger Aethan.

Kazic baulked at this
“She is a prisoner of war, and a Cataphract, her armour should be returned to the…”

Valens pinned him with a stare

“You were not about to renege on our agreement I could take any any all technology and artefacts I desired were you...Kazic?,”

The Anzat’s red eyes briefly narrowed, knowing full well the face he stared into was an illusion, Valens helmet rarely leaving his head.

“No, I was, not..but .there was never any agreement prisoners would be turned over to you, and from what I can see the larger plate armour is inseparable from what remains of her body at the moment.” 

The Hamask might have been on the other side, but Kazic knew were he to ever hope to regain any Cataphracts support after the war; it was a necessity to treat them with respect even in defeat...and more importantly, Ari had spared Sora, Kazic would do all he could to ensure she was not given over to the monsters he Now knew the rest Ari’s People to be.

The tensions between the Anzat and Aethan were simmering, Maekal itching to take the Anzats head for having the audacity to argue against the Divine Children of the Goddesses.

It was one of the very rare occasions Valens relented, if only partially.

“We’ll take the dover nanites now...see that the armour is uncoupled from that thing as swiftly as possible,” he ordered, saving some face then turning away swiftly. 

Maekal gave Kazic a snide look before scooping up the nanites with a telekinetic wind.

Kazic could only breathe again once they were gone.

K’ompo?,” Saani asked, coming up behind him, there was no point asking if anything troubled him, for the last few years everything had.  Yet even amidst the building pressures he could sense a calmness in his wife.

K’anpa…” he turned taking her in his embrace seeing the fatigue and minor injuries she had accumulated all too starkly - he really ought to order her to rest after such an engagement, but knew Saani would never forgive him for it.

“A problem with our friends?” Saani asked.
“No...not yet...I’m just thankful you both survived the Hamask...by the Silent Voices she was more dover catalyst than flesh…” he shook his head in wonder
“Breaking the nanite bonds...I don’t think Ari will ever cease to amaze me!”

Sani smiled warmly
“She’s grown a lot…” she said looking over to where Ari was talking with Valens, from what she could see Ari was, however respectfully, insisting Sora be left in Kazic’s custody and preventing a snatch attempt.

“Stronger and wiser than I could have hoped,”
Her voice took on a solemn but prideful whisper that only years later Kazic would remember for the foreboding it contained in hindsight.
“She will be fine without us,”

“I know,” Kazic agreed offhandedly, “but she’ll never have to be K’anpa,”

<<<<>>>>

Every bump and pivot richoteted through her body, strapped painfully tightly to the uncomfortable seats of the back of the transport.

Sora stared vacantly at the ceiling her remaining limbs bound, body utterly useless as she cursed that she hadn’t had the opportunity to die with dignity befitting a Hamask in a baradium detonation that accomplished her mission for the Kage.

The short haul flyer bounced again, the seat edge beneath her digging into her sine painfully.

Then the entire vessel shuddered and veered to the left.  More heavy thuds followed as if it were being rammed.

She impotently lay tied down as alarms blared and the ship hit something very very hard then with a bone wrenching twisting slammed to a stop, every light dying in the cabin.

There were screams, the dull thurmm of an energy weapon of some kind…

Then a blinding orange flare in the top of the cabin that spun in a swift circle of molten durasteel as the top of the transport was cut though.

An enormous figure landed in with a metallic clang.

Hamask,” the helmet destroyed voice said as the zweihander powered down

“The Triarch has sent me to retrieve you, your mission for the Kage remains unfulfilled.”

Kneeling down as best she could in the heavy Cataphract armour Knight Kall-jeq Masbes removed her helmet, the Nautolon was notorious for her inexorable drive to complete to the letter every assignment given - and expecting the same of other Cataphracts.

“I’m certain you don’t want to disappoint either...or yourself”

Sora snarled
“Get me more Nanites,”

<<<<>>>>

This Chapter is followed shortly by Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War Chapter 23 Cause and Effect.
http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg700053#msg700053 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg700053#msg700053)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on October 29, 2021, 05:18:16 PM
These scenes between Saani and Ari are as beautiful as they are haunting; despite her misgivings concerning Ari's choices, Saani proves herself a loving and trusting parent, coming to the conclusion that she has done what all good mothers do for their children: raise them to be able to live their own lives.  With Saani's POV, she now sees the woman that the girl who left her and Kazic has become, in this case, a unique fusion between their own ideals (and by extent, the Vhal'Dan) and that of Ari's People.  And while much can be said concerning the "best of both worlds," we also see that Ari is developing her own mores, for better or worse (which is exemplified by her indictment of Kazic: yes, she IS right BUT is ALSO intractable in listening to his own epiphanies).

Another such (beautiful!) scene regarding just that culture-clash: Ari's discussion with Saani concerning her own feelings for Mili.  As a mother, Saani tries without coercion to help her own daughter while balancing the complicated morality issues with Ari's own burgeoning love (especially troublesome as Saani knows that the "Solomon's Call" that Kazic has enacted is neither "black nor white" but one fraught with problems, and that's without even beginning to address Saani's own misgivings).  Still, Saani shows a greater wisdom here for Ari to be able to find solace in: she should listen to her feelings for Mili and not waste a second on further doubts.

Juxtaposed against the light of Ari and Saani's arc, is Sora's own POV.  From Light to Dark, feelings of love and compassion can influence one's own future, in this case: an already powerful Cataphract Hamask.  With her toeing the line of the Dark Side (even crossing it on occasion), we see yet another complicated situation that makes the best stories: Sora's rage, loss, and determination make her a force to be reckoned with, even taking on the Aethans themselves!  I thought I knew what a Hamask was capable of...

WAS I EVER WRONG

Sora's own scenes show just how incredible (and terrible) a Cataphract can be, especially one who has done away with any moral tethers (the horrible pathos being can one blame her?  Her own injuries were bad enough but to also lose her teidowan as a result?)... War is terrible...but what will one do to win?  Do the ends justify the means?  And--incredibly!--Sora's own survival isn't something to be taken for granted (I fully expected her death; again: was I wrong  ;))...

The Civil War wasn't fought (or won) in a day and neither are the lives of those who fought limited to such.

Meta-note: I'm hoping to see more of Sora and this time around some of the Troika; while a Hamask "berserker" operates apart from the traditional Triad, I'd love to see how they both supplement one another^^


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 10, 2021, 05:24:49 AM
Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/GpwHkqJ/Misdirection.png)
>>>>These Events Occur Simultaneously and Shortly After Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War Chapter 23: Cause and Effect<<<<<<

Ghosts of the Golan’s

“Still no response…” Mylinda Kazz, Silver Knight and Primus of Triad Osk sighed.

Behind her Maenwoan and Ambassador of the Vhal’Dan Jorl’Taf breathed in deeply as he stared through the transparisteel as the Golan II space platform Svartr.

They had dropped out of hyperspace at hyper lane terminus just inside the Macrol Void where the systems was protected by Galtea’s sun Heiosphere from the deadly pulsars that surrounded it.

As per standard procedure they had approached the two vast Golan II defensive stations that guarded further entry to the system on sublights, and issued their clearance codes.

There was no response.  At all.

He clutched tighter to the mechano-locked folio under his right arm, linked by a Bio bracelet around his wrist that resembled grav-cuffs.  Within were several crucial documents from the Confedeate-Colonies of Zilior that await only the Kage’s seal and Bio-imprint to be ratified. 

The tall dark skinned Maenowan had been tasked by D’Aklon himself with a secret mission of searching the outer rim for other independent systems that might be open to an alliance with Vhal’Dan in exchange for assistance in either reconstruction of Galtea following the war or - as he increasingly feared given the damage to the planet he knew about before contact was lost - a new home for the survivors.

Having served as ambassador to the Jedi on Coruscant for nearly 10 years the Kage had utter faith in Jorl’Taf’s ability to find a satisfactory partner, but given the extreme sensitivity of the mission he had to do so alone apart from his honour Guard in the form of Triad Osk. 

Only the Cataphracts could be trusted with such an undertaking D’Aklon had insisted, indeed apart from the Kage only the Triarch Baz-Rhadde was even aware of the mission.

Discussions with a range of systems had stalled, but the growing Confederate Colony of Zilior had proved both willing and able to offer assistance and sanctuary in exchange for Vhal’Dan military and technical expertise - Triad Osk, and especially Mylinda herself, had especially impressed the Confederate Militia that the Vhal’Dan could back their promises regarding marital resources.

“Try once more,” Jorl-Taf whispered as he scanned the gap between the two Golan platforms,  the miniscule  -by astro navigation standards - path between the platforms and through the gravity well generators planetary shadows was closed by a shimmering pinkish field,  an interdictor net to prevent any ships passing in or out.

Mylinda complied with a nod, her orange hair tightly wound in a bun above sharp features that reflected on the consoles .

Even more troubling, there were no ships anywhere nearby, not even scouts or tugs maintaining the Interdictor Nets innumerable projection buoys.

And yet all read outs indicated both stations, Svartr and Imðr - Black and Grey in an Old dialect - were fully operational, no sign of damage, the net, the gravity well, shields all perfectly functional.

Tense minutes passed, the timeframe for even an automated reply slipping past.

“Nothing…”

Worse they could not make contact with anyone further in the system, the Golan’s comm’s scramblers were fully engaged.

Mylind turned to look at the Ambassador, while his last few decades had been spent as a diplomat Jorl’Taf had not simply stumbled on the rank of Maenowan before that and had operational command.

“Comm Vask, we dock on the western Platform, find out what is going on,”

In the emptiness of the Bridge of the Svartr, lit only by the green and blue glow of consoles and diffuse light of distant pulsars, teeth far too white glinted with a smile as inhumanly heavy daggers were drawn.

<<<>>>>

Triage

“...we failed…” Evaea repeated head hung in shame as she sat on the medi-couch Kassyndra’s light touch soothing and warm with shatterpoint healing energy.

“Hey two outta three ain’t bad Silky,” Taryn in the couch across jested, bandages across his chest and right thigh where he’d taken a few too many hits from a different Cathar Cataphract.

“Our mission was to eliminate the Triarch...we failed,”

“Eva really, we’ll have none of that,” Kassyndra insisted, her tone firm and motherly - having been so long absent a senior female role model it held additional strength in Eva’s ears, something Kassyndra knew well enough to exploit, yet despite her efforts Evaea still thought in the binary terms of success and failure her Sensei had taught.  The People cared only about survival.

“The Triarch, Anson - Valens was very clear only he and Jarys were to fight them one on one at full strength...you couldn’t have known the Triarch wouldn’t even pause when his Triad died,”

The 10 bed med-bay on the Aephrodaea had become an unintentional rendezvous.

Of the five widely spaced med-couches interspersed with floating Chiss med droids and equipment sleds was the vast majority of the People. 

On the left side closest to the door to the turbolift Lydan and Lyaea were stretching under Oran’s watchful gaze, his rhythmic healing abilities having drastically magnified their recovery from Sora’s beating -  young Oran still had no memory where he learned the technique.

Adaea was holding her young husband's hand, while not physically injured apart from the now endemic fatigue all the People suffered from after weeks of endless combat, the Cataphracts ‘Stone Mage’ - the Aing Tii - dispelling efforts had rubbed her aetheric aura raw.

While the siblings would be able to return to the battlefield in a half day, their mother would not.  Selaena had taken the brunt of Sora’s fury for her children and paid a heavy price for it in burns and wounds that would take several days to heal even with Kassyndra and Oran’s focused efforts.

Xani was attending to her adoptive Aunt, the youngest Aethans nursing skills had quadrupled in the last few weeks as she worked closely under Kassyndra, picking up tips from Oran as well, the teens Aethenaea Cortex all but worn out absorbing information.

Across the room Nyaea fretted over Evyn with a singular focus that stirred Evaea’s jealousy.  Beside that pair Taran, Taryn and Maeson lined the couches to the far side of the bay where the two operating theaters were - thus far - mercifully unused. 

All three had been nursing niggling cuts, sprains and muscle bruises before they encountered the Cataphracts - the Vhal’Dan heavies hadn’t so much inflicted more wounds as zeroed on and aggravated those they already had, finally taking them off the front lines.

It was a drastic reduction in their operational capacity to have so many injured in such a short space of time, Valens having to abandon some of his planned lotting expeditions, the older Guardians, Karintha, Kiraea, Yorna, Jarys and Melron having to do double duties to maintain the illusion of their numbers.

“There, all fixed for now…” Kassyndra said knowing her young charge was not in complete health, but the necessity of the fight denied them the chance to take the time to heal properly.

Evaea shuffled off the bed pacing slightly forward but her feet still unsteady. Resilient as Aethan biology was, and powerful though their healing powers were - they were reaching the hard limits of both.

“Another few hours at least,” Kassyndra added sternly enough to prevent any argument.

It may delay their efforts, but no amount of technology or outsider lives were worth People’s blood.

<<<<>>>>

Misdirection

Nurhl Båz Rahdde lay the ancient metal chisel down upon the velvet cushion with utmost care and solemnity.

Two more names now joined the hundreds of others upon the Onyx Tableau, the monument and record of all Cataphracts and those allies and supporters of the sect deemed of great honour and worthiness.

Olan Yncho, and Hevrin Mal-Tagge, his Secundus an Tertius.  It was nigh impossible for any but a Cataphract to understand the depth of the bond between members of a Triad, more than friendship or fraternity, they were One when they fought. 

The grief was…

Was for another time.  He would not dishonour their sacrifice by diverting one moment unnecessarily from the War that had taken them.

Losses were inevitable, even among the Cataphracts - that it had been his Triad first could make no difference whatsoever.

“Nurhl…” Ravra Påx Crion whispered behind him, his fellow Cathar along with half a dozen others had watched as he inscribed the names, a brief respite from the constant training and preparation.

She lay a single hand on his shoulder, a fleeting but tender moment.  The Cataphracts might joke among themselves Camp Rhadde was ‘Nurhls Den’, the Triarch himself like a stern but reasonable father - truth Ravra was the heart of their order the ‘Clan Mother’ to the whole of the Troika as much as she was to her own cubs providing support in ways that Nurhl could not, and the Triarch was eternally thankful for.  The diversity of personalities and skills of the Troika was truly what Whole.

Her hand lingered only a fleeting warm moment before she removed it.

“Triarch…” she now said making clear the moment for reflection and emotion was past

“We have intelligence you will wish to be apprised of.”

<<<<>>>>

“You should have informed us immediately” the hand sized holo figure snarled, trunk like arms across the roaring lion of his chest plate.

“I didn’t want to delay the interrogation,” Speaker J’Nessah Raahn replied even as she contemplated how best to remove the obdurately loyal Triarch once a new Kage was installed.

Nurhl suppressed a growl as best he could, respecting her position if not her personally.

Saani K’aval had not only been captured by forces under J’Nessah’s husband Pytirs command, but also taken to Lus’Phor for interrogation without either himself or the Kage being informed. 

Given K’aval’s close but as yet uncertain relationship to the Shadow Warriors a rescue was inevitable - presenting a drastic risk to everyone on that moon.

“A comms message takes little more than a minute Speaker,” he replied as evenly as he could
“I am sending a Tribus to secure the prisoner and bring her to Camp Rhadde, here we have facilities to properly detain and question such a dangerous prisoner...In fact I will see to it personally

“Thank you Triarch, the Kage will hear of your diligence,” she replied a thin smile on her dusky features
“I’m sure K’aval will be safe in your Den…” she added with a touch of arrogance.

Camp Rhadde was often referred to among the Triads as ‘Nurhl’s Den’ for how he prowled and protected the sanctum of the Cataphracts as an ancient Cathar might their Clan Den. But such a term of familiarity was only used among the Cataphracts themselves on informal occasions in the lounges and recreation rooms of Istic Fortress, or between Triads after a tough mission and about to ‘head back to the den’.

Using that term as a non-Cataphract, J’nessah was unashamedly trying to provoke and insult.

“And the Kage will hear of your actions,” Nurhl replied with uncharacteristic spite - J’nessah brought that out in him - before he cut the link.

“Politicians,” Alfa growled behind him
“We should throw them all to the Shadow Warriors,”

Nurhl found his muzzle twisting in a grin to his fellow Cathars distaste for Rhaan, although well aware Alfa considered every politician little better than ‘Mass for the Maw’, the Primus of Triad Jenth a vocal supporter of the Kage accumulating more and more personal powers above the Collegium.   

Considering the oily discomfort he always felt speaking with the likes of J’nessah and Pytir - something Nurhl typically avoided anyway - he was beginning to think the same way.

Once more Anson’s prescience had proven true, in their discussions after the Kage’s Temporal battle D’Aklon had said an opportunity would arise where Nurhl could convince the enemy of the Cataphracts destruction.

Nurhl knew this was it.

“Primus,” Nurhl addressed Alfa formally

“You will arrange with the air crew to prepare five Saril Transports for immediate departure, inform the fleet to secure an a path to Lus’phor, and make sure the Sentinels on Lus’Phor are apprised of our imminent arrival - a force of two Tribi and my Tria...myself,”

Myself… the loss of his Triad was a stinging wound that kept Nurhl sharp.

“All due respect Triarch Båz-Rhadde, if we’re trying to extract such a valuable prisoner wouldn’t it be better to just blitz up there in an hour under our clearance codes without signalling our intent across half the army?”

“If we were trying to do that yes,” Nurhl replied, golden eyes predatorial
“I want the intel of our deployment to slip out...not one Cataphract will be on those five ships…”

Alfa was a strong tactical thinker, forever analysing prior campaigns of the Cataphracts for any tweak to his carefully formulated combat strategies. It didn’t take long for him to catch on.

“You want everyone to know, to draw the Shadow warriors to attack the transports...try and kill us in transit where our Armour and Zweihanders are useless…”

It was ingenious, on both sides, the Cataphracts were weakest when being ferried to and from locations notwithstanding the incredible durability of the Saril Assault craft.  The Shadows superiority in space was unmatched, while some progress had been made it was evident their cloaking technology was comprehensively more advanced than anything the Vhal’Dan possessed. 

After a series of ignominious retreats against the Cataphracts the Shadows would leap at such a chance.

Yet Alfa paused for a moment, paw scratching the long black fur beneath his chin, a single brown streak down the centre of the beard equivalent among Cathar.

“The Pilots, the air crew will be lost…”

Nurhl grunted affirmative, he was well aware of the sacrifice needed to convince the Shadows they had destroyed two thirds of the Cataphracts forces in a single hit.

“It will be done, Triarch,” Alfa said with solemn intent.

“I will give the final order to Colonel Yashiv myself,” Nurhl added quietly, he would not outsource that grim task.

Without another word the  dark furred Bothan strode out leaving Nurhl alone in the quiet of the comms room, his deep copper fur slightly graying in the blue glow of the holo screens all around.

“For the Vhal’Dan,” he whispered to console himself.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 10, 2021, 05:25:53 AM
Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 2
Ghosts of the Golan’s
“...came through there...along the wall…” Gerchon thick finger pointed along the path marked out by blaster holes
“to the ceiling, down on him...then to the opposite wall through her…” now marked out by severed bodies lying cold in pools of blood partially dried in cycled air.

“then up and onto the others...those two got hit by a projectile, probably a shuriken of some type…”

Maker I’m too old for this drenMaenowan Juluun Vask of Triad Grek wanted to sigh.

The octogenarian hoary human had been retired only a year when the war started, loyal son of Galtea he had donned the armour once more, Nurhl scrambling a Triad under him including the three century old Gre’Chaw as Secundus, and the young buck Adrii as tertius

While the Feeorin Gerchon was far older he was old enough to know his talents weren’t in leading, but in tracking, hunting and being an all round stubborn bastard to kill.  His exceptional ability to read a battlefield on display now as they crept cautiously through the Golan platform, populated only by the dead.

“Same weapons and same tactics…” Vask sighed “...same damn ghost I’m betting,”

The lack of communication with Galtea was really biting now.  When Triad Osk and Grek had left just over five months ago the war seemed to be coming to a close, Osk and Jorl’Taf were off to the Outer rim to find allies, Vask had been sent to Kewda to recover from Dover Catalyst to sure up the Cataphracts supplies. 

Comms had broken down a week after they hit the Rimma and parted, and never been re-established since.

They completed their missions assuming the Kage had instituted a Comms Blackout, but after the 100 day mark followed protocol and returned to find…

To find the first line of Galtea’s defence, the Golan’s, little better than mortuaries....

Adrii knelt down looking over the long since inflicted wounds.

“over a month old?” She had asked half stated still finding her feet, but getting there.

“Aye,” Gerchon agreed “Possibly two,”

“And the weapon...to cut through the armour and leave peeling like that...the force must’ve been massive,”

“And the density of the blade greater than Kortosis,” the Feeorin mused

“I’ve seen phirk blades that could do that...but it’d have to be thrust by a maker damned cargo lifter arm…” Vask added, so far between Grek and Osk they’d found over two hundred bodies, some in their stations killed from behind, dozens in the hangar bays trying to flee, a good half- mainly the security the the handful of Knights, in various corridors and strong points where they had tried to make a stand.

There were also unusual burns on a number of bodies - the flesh seared and clothing elted, but concentrated, no overflow like a flame thrower or grenade would yield.  Vask suspected Force Fire, a rare and deadly dark side ability.   

Each battle scene Gerchon had read indicated the attacker was alone.

There were only a handful of vhal’Dan Vask was aware could do such a thing, the Triarch and Kage of Course - the Hamask Sora certainly but they were on his side.  On the Anzat traitors side Corvus Watashi - well he was too conventional...Saani K’aval...maybe...she had the acrobatic and stealth skills...but not to this degree, and where would she get phirk weapons?

No - this was something new.

“Proceeding to level 3” Mylinda commed over as Osk kept moving to the bridge.
“Still no contact,”

“Maybe whatever did this left…” Adrii said with more hope than the rest of her Triad felt.

“We’ll soon find out, Triad Forward,” Vask ordered in his nonsense tone, a trait he’d passed onto his former protege’s Ya’Qul and Al’Marq. 

The fact the Golan’s were running on automatic systems was even more perplexing.  it locked others out of Galtea sure, but it locked everyone else in.

They’re herding us in… he thought.  While no pre-cog like Alulat or Qaman’xa, he did receive front he Force strange ‘Concretes’ he called them, a thought or impression of a situation or event that he knew with stone cold certainty was True. 

An odd skill, but one valued by the current and former Triarch, where there was doubt, a ‘Concrete’ could give clarity to make a split second decision that saved lives.

They paced slowly through the annexes and lower store rooms, past the dorms and into the tactical command centers.

Progress was slow and steady as they scrutinised every sound, checked every corner and ventilation grate, scanned and re-scanned every puff of dust for traps and toxins.

The Golan Svartr was ice cold, atmosphere and gravity was still on, but thermal conditioning had been switched off.   

“Proceeding to Level One,” Mylinda commed again - the bridge level - “Still no contact, 22 more casualties,”

“Logged,” Vask replied as his arms swept infrascanners into the corners as they entered the axial corrodiro of the lower level. 

They were some of the first to fight Them.  They never had a chance. the concrete thought sunk heavy in his mind as he stepped past a chunky line in the floor - blast or atmosphere seal door.

Before his foot even fully hit the floor a metal shriek behind and the Blast door slammed shut cutting him and Gerchon off from Adrii.

“Contact!”
“Get the Door!”
snap hiss and yells were so fast they barely knew among the battle meld who was doing what. Gerchon’s blue blade snapped to life and began to cut into the Blast door, Vask jumped to the side to try and hack it, pulling the control panel out - too far out - the wires had already been cut.

Adrii instantly went into a defensive stance, teal blade humming.

A moving mist composed of blades and limbs struck her from above.

Everyone else seemed to struggle against these ‘Cata-fails’, Kiraea mused as he unleashed the twin short swords with furious downward momentum into the shoulders of the creature beneath her.

The Catafail shifted, her blades drove into the Shoulder plates that popped with an ablative response, annoying but nothing an additional boost of energy couldn’t fix.  Kiraea pressed straight through even as she spun mid air to bring her knees into the Cataphracts face plate with an aether boosted impact.

Sword in her shoulder and kneed in the face Adrii slammed backward into the blast door Gerchon was trying to cut through.

Kiraea landed in front of her, the Tertius briefly glimpsing as the pain from the blade in the shoulders began to bite - an instant later the Aethan was gone.

A wrecking ball slammed the Tertius from the Si as Kiraea bounced off the wall and rushed her pulling her swords out as she spun over the Catafail, who responded with a heavy but not quite accurate enough kinetic blast and swift Ataru strikes.

With a confident grin Kiraea wove through them, hacking away at the Catafail armour, while exponentially more resilient than the other Vhal’Dan dregs she’d eliminated here months ago, she could appreciate it was kind of tough….

Adriss flicked on and burst out with her arm mounted cannons, peppering the wall with heated energy, doing all she could to keep the Death Mist - for that was all she could see - at bay - until she felt the cold hard stab more more blades into her armours joints.

The bubbling chunk of dura-doonium clanked to the floor as Gerchon finally cut through. 

Kiraea rolled backward, four shikkars flying forward.  The Feeorin slashed two with his bsaer as he would selected blaster bolts, another lost to his ablative armour, the third lodged in the minimal gap between shin plate and knee pad...then it snapped off.

The blade with a mind of its own sought to work into his body, with a grunting telekinetic effort he tore it out of himself.

Adrii was collapsed on the floor bleeding out, the lithe black figure vanished from the thin halo of the sabers glow into the darkness.

She’ll pick us off one by one Vask knew.

“Back to Back” he ordered
“We have a heavily armed and armoured assassin loose,”

<<<<>>>>
Aresaea

The unfamiliar presence carried through the medium of a connection so intimately forged struck like a dagger in her mind.

“Ari!” Yorna was quick to sense her distress, spinning round to hold her up, Karintha in the vanguard paused as they paced through the emptied store rooms of the Sambasara Fortress in the jungle covered humid eastern edge of Galtea’s largest continent. 

It seemed that the Ansonites had completely evacuated this position days before their arrival, Valens strategy to push Anson to Lus’phor and force confrontation - whilst also reducing resistance at key locations they intended to loot - seemed to be working despite recent setbacks caused by the Cataphracts.

Ari gripped her hip where her link orbs were kept in a sealed blackstone belt box rather than the traditional leather pouch.  The pure black marble linked to Saani’s had shrieked with transgression as someone else attempted to use it.

Regaining her composure quickly Ari pushed back into it, seeing hazy faces she recognised as J’nessah Raanh and Pytir Anisen - she could also sense the direction from which the signal had come - ‘up’ meaning Lus’phor.

“I’m alright…” Ari assured
“...but my mother...she’s been captured by the Ansonites...on Lus’phor…”

“Then we must leave immediately to rescue here,” Karintha pre-empted the request
“She is family after all,”

The Matriarch's sincerity was - uncertain - but Ari didn’t especially care, she would need help to reach her mother who was undoubtedly well guarded.

“Well there’s nothing to find here…” Yorna agreed, noting how well the store rooms had been cleared by the retreating Ansonites, she plucked her own link orb to contact Valens to inform him.

<Val we need to head to Lus’phor, Saani had been captured, can you send a pick up,>
There was a pause, no doubt the Warchief attending to a marginally more important matter.

<I’ll send Maekal,> he finally replied
<You will rendezvous with the Aephrodaea have Kassyndra check you over>

<But that will take too long!> Ari protested desperation in her voice as her heart squeezed, feeling her mothers pain under vicious interrogation...before her sense of Saani was completely lost - not due to death but some kind of Force suppression device.

<I’ve just intercepted a transmission, the Cataphracts are sending two Tribii to take Saani back to Camp Rhadde, the Triarch himself is personally overseeing the transfer> Valens telepathic ‘voice’ and presence was cold and methodical,  quickly calming Ari’s firefly agitated nerves.

She had to help her mother, but Saani would never want her to risk her own life, or the entire war effort to do so.

<My analysis indicates the Triarch is in fact using this as a cover to relocate the Cataphracts to Lus’phor along with the rest of Anson’s army.  The Cathar’s pride won’t allow him to admit he is abandoning Camp Rhadde,> Valens continued, his dismissiveness toward the uncouth outsiders reputation for never backing down evident.

<The full Troika? Around Saani or Anson - either way we would need almost the entire People to take them all on> Yorna noted
<And more to deal with the regular Knights and soldiers,> Karintha added

<And we don’t have those kind of numbers or stamina…> Ari conceded logic overriding her filial impulses. 

Perhaps they could've taken the Troika on at the start of the war, but now so many weeks later, with a veritable patina of unhealed minor injuries, the Cataphracts were simply too numerous and too strong. 

<Which is why we will take this chance to eliminate them, Taryn take whomever you need - as many fighters and ships as you require - as soon as those Cataphract ships break orbit I want them destroyed by any means necessary>

<Get em while their butts are on seats,> Taryn said joining the impromptu conference of minds
<Shouldn’t be too much trouble,> the former pirate replied already forming options.

<Then our final moves will commence, Evaea will lead an assault on Hephaestus Base, Jarys and Kiraea on Camp Rhadde - without the Cataphracts its regular guard will be no match - we will take the technology and artefacts Kazic promised but could never deliver.>

Valens was positively aching to obtain the Holocron of Xinis’zo, as adept as he was at Flow Walking and Temporal manipulation, the teaching of the Aing-tii could take the People's skills to another level, that he intended to send Jarys and Kiraea to secure it indicative that of all the prizes they sought that was the first.

<Karintha you will assist Ari in infiltrating Lus’Phor, liberate Saani then secure the Kyber caches on the moon, I don’t trust Kazic to hand them over after I pass judgement on Anson.>

Any other time Ari might’ve protested Valens distrust of her father...but after all she had seen since her arrival...it was becoming more and more evident that the man who had adopted her, and the man who now lead one faction in the internecine feud were two different people.

Something about that thought caused a sense of...not vindication...but certainly satisfaction to briefly wash off Karintha.

It didn’t matter, her focus had to be on saving her mother, and eliminating the Cataphracts first was the best way to ensure that.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 10, 2021, 05:27:13 AM
Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 3
Ghosts of the Golan’s
The Bridge was a charnel house. 

Whatever last heroic stand had been attempted failed certainly, but not for want of trying.

Hands, flippers, and paws all still grasped weapons in icy endless desperation.

Triad Osk had entered weapons live as they heard the humm of a saber. 

A Weequay knight held the blade in his dead fists as his head was flopped back dried blood trickling from the wound in the forehead.  His saber hadn’t been switched off as was only just flickering after countless days active.

Secundus Yorel and Tertius Hadda were back to back as tightly as Mylinda was to Jorl’Taf, the Ambassador slightly constrained by the Case on his right arm, but still able enough with his silver blade in his left.

They moved swiftly between the chairs as the dim light of the distant pulsars gave everything an eerie pink hue.  Far in the distance they coil just spy Galteas sun, blue and white at this distance.

It was a welcome sight for Mylinda, though given the tomb that the Golan was she feared what they would find once they got further in the system.

After landing through the undefended atmo-shield they found every last vessel in the bays broken heaps, in most cases their own weapons had been turned on the ships opposite to disable each other while docked, the crew not living to escape.

What worried her most was the fact that this had occurred months ago and then...nothing. No Marines sent to recapture, no Battlecruiser to secure the key transit zone.

The Golan’s were critical strategic assets controlling space travel into and out of the system, both sides needed them.  That both sides had seemingly abandoned them was utterly incomprehensible.

“Here…cover me,” The Ambassador said heading to the main control consoles scanning it to ensure there were no traps before using it.

The Bridge was wide and open with a 360 view of space around it, the other Golan Imðr visible to the ‘west’ across the pinkish glow of the Interdictor Net.  Control consoles were arranged in large circles and at the center a large command holo that displayed an image of the Golan itself, readouts scrolling by above and beneath it.

It was clear whatever creature had slaughtered its way through Svartr had done the same on Imðr, the staff, marines and knights were no match for the creature, and now it seemed a Cataprhact wasn't either.  Admittedly Adrii was only recently elevated, but still, it meant their enemies physical abilities and equipment was equivalent if not more advanced than their own.

How this thing would fare against more seasoned Cataphratcs who now had some idea what was coming was almost tantalizingly curious to her.

 “Power systems, shields, weapons, everything is undamaged…” Jorl’Taf said as he scrolled through the files, his Military Overrides were still working.

“Security footage had been wiped...the communications scramblers…” he punched in commands to access the system, it was fully operational indeed had its range boosted by diverting portions of shield and weapons energy…”

He tapped away as Mylinda kept a keen eye on her surrounds.

“Shav…” Jorl hissed as the [connection error] was returned to his inputs

“Problem?”

“They’ve cut the consoles control circuits, we can get status read outs but can’t shut things off from here,”

Dust particles bouncing in the light suddenly spun faster, a visual cue a trap was about to be sprung that just lit their minds to respond as the attack began.

Hadda had barely thumbed her Sabers switch when the floor beneath became a vortex pulling her in. Yorel tried to grab her from falling, but it only made the outcome worse.

An implosion grenade hidden beneath the deck plating explode from a  telekinetic flick of Kiraea’s thoughts under the Tertius,  metal, ceramics and wire whorling inward, taking the Tertius legs in with them, compacting the contents too close to the implosion centrifuge into a mangled mix, Yorel finding he was now holding Hadda’s entire body up staggered backward bringing her but not the lower part of her legs  which had been curled into a mix of metal.

A ghost of a form spun in behind Yorel, on a knee to give stability Kiraea let the Secundus fall on her swords , the ablative plasma cloud buffeted off one blade, but the other sank in.

She was not done yet, the slow outsiders had barely registered the events occurring at all as she raced round to the other two - that was how to beat these Cata-Fails she had worked out, you struck each one hard and fast individually, then at worst just had to wait out their weak Outsider bodies failing.

She flipped out her bow drawing it long and taught to fire near point blank into the Catafail.

STOP!” Mylinda’s Will, tremendously enhanced by the Force was like a wall that stopped Kiraea dead for a critical three seconds.

Yorel clattered down, Hadda landed ontop of him, Joel’Taf saber snapped on and Mylinda turned both her arm mounted cannons on the attacker.

Heavy charges shots smacked Kiraea backward with tremendous forces that was sending Mylinda backward at the same time, the Aethan Blackstone armour heating quickly under the steady barrage.

Jorl’Taf added to the attack by hurling his saber like a spear at the enemy, impressed once more by Mylinda’s unique power. 

The Reason Triad Osk had been chosen for the diplomatic task was Mylinda’s ‘Will’ abilities, an intense force of personality that made her incredibly charismatic and able to influence others - friend and foe alike - when enhanced by the Force.  Distinct from conventional mind tricks, this was a sheer ability to manifest her will in a way that like gravity was undeniable.

Kiraea snapped off her arrow then used the bow to bash aside the saber, rolling and bouncing beneath and behind the consoles to avoid the blaster fire as Triad Osk and the Ambassador formed up to respond.  Hadda was in incredible pain, her legs ruined, Yorel was up but unlikely to last long with a sword still in his back.

Mylinda’s head snapped to the side to doge, the arrow, only for the malefic projectiel to round on her again, forcing her to bash it away with her beskar breaker that glowed orange as her hair, Kiraea quickly moving to attack once more.

Entire consoles were torn from the deck and hurled at the PRimus and Ambassador who dodged where they could, sliced into or shouldered the impacts where they couldn’t as wires sparked from being torn up and chunks of metal filled the dark air.

Among the hurled objects was an incredibly lithe form that struck had as a mag train, the sword smashing into Mylinda’s breastplate activating the ablative plating as the Oblivion blade ground off in sparks, then just as quickly slashed into Jorl’Ta’fs Soresu guard, the more conventional knight bouncing off a series of six slashes before being struck by a knee seemingly from nowhere.

The sheer force of Aethan muscles hitting encased in ultradenses stone caused something in his side to crack painfully as he tumbled over a console desk, the buttons and levers poking into him as Mylinda moved to intercept as best she could.

SURRENDER!” the Primus yelled with the Force of her Will, the Aethan felt the impact against her mind, but but sneered, the trick didn't have the same impact the second time, the pathetic Catafail was trying to exert control on a mind like her own, rational, considerate like all these other dull knights - it was not nearly as effective against the instinct sped cognition of People.

Kiraea leapt and spun around the bulky primus, slicing her apart from every angle, forcing Mylinda to use up her Force stamina to keep her speed and dexterity equal to the impossibly acrobatic Aethan.

Mylinda could already feel the burn of Force exhaustion behind her eyes, her Beskar breaker moving fast but unsteadily, at any moment she feared her wrists would give out and send it flying, leaving her already battered plate even more exposed.

“PRIMUS!”  A huge bulky torso smashed into Kiraea, beskar-breaker in hand.
Hadda, her legs wrecked and body wracked with pain, had been hurled by Yorel straight at the enemy after she had taken the sword from his back.

With Yorel’s Kinetic momentum and the battelmeld’s guidance Hadda became a living projectile to knock the enemy away from the Primus.

The pair bounced and crashed into the transparisteel that circled the command centre, Hadda hacking as best she could using all the energy she could summon from the Force to match the intense strength of a genehanced demi-god.

“Primus you need to...to…” Yorel could barely finish his sentence for the blood loss, but Mylinda understood. 

As Jorl’Taf righted himself Kiraea was finally divesting himself of the irritating Cata-fail, slamming Hadda back into the wall then smashing her already ruined legs to inflict more of the pain Outsiders experienced that seemed to affect their ability to do anything else.

With her Triad fatally wounded there was no way to resist this...thing...her overriding priority was to get Jorl-Taf and the documents safely to the Kage.

Biting against the pain Yorel pounded forward, the Shistavanen barking in a vicious charge to give his Pimus the time she needed.

<<<<>>>>

Nurhl
He stood in the secure bays of Camp Rhadde and watched the oblivious loyal soldiers march to their deaths.

Five Saril Class Transports - specifically designed to ferry Cataphracts, with specialized storage for the Dover Catalyst, tools for more advanced armour repair, spare power cells fo Beskar-Breakers, innumerable Blaster charge packs, on board surgical facilities in addition to the powerful armament - would be sacrificed this day, their crew with them.

A sepia skinned human with care worn wrinkles, tall for his species but still tiny against Nurhl in full plate saluted before him.

“Triarch all is prepared we will depart immediately, I have turned over all command authority to Captain Tin’eea,” Colonel Yashiv said, the commander of the Galtean army stationed at Camp Rhadde, he had served with distinction for many years, Nurhl considered him, if not a friend, then a highly respected colleague.

His repayment would be ignominious death in low orbit.

Nurhl saluted back.

“Well done Colonel, The Kage will hear of your exemplary efforts, they will not be forgotten”

The Colonel looked puzzled for a moment, was this not a simple ferrying of Cataphract equipment to establish a temporary base on Lus’Phor as part of the planned counter offensive?

“Thank You Triarch,” he replied slightly bemused before returning to his final duties.

Nurhl watched as the staff entered, good Sentients all.

A lesser Triarch might doubt, object, scoff at the sacrifice - an even more Cowardly one would refuse to look. 

Nurhl was strong enough to meet the eyes of each and every member of the engineering corps, soldiers, general staff and guards as they passed, knowing he was sending them to their deaths - consoled this was the path to ultimate Victory the Kage had foreseen. 

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 10, 2021, 05:28:44 AM
Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 4
Nurhl
Outside the Arming chamber where the Cataphract armour rested on supports that gave the hallowed plate an empty silent humanoid form, was a small holo-pad in the door frame.

On it were listed names of all serving Cataphracts by Triad.

Nurhl scanned down the first column, the names of the Primus’s.

Aurek - Master Gray Nurhl Båz Rhadde
Besh - Maenowan Jelan Ya'qul
Cresh - Maenowan Chimi Mal-Wel
Dorn - RETIRED
Esk - Maenowan Ravra Påx Crion,
Forn - Silver Knight Kall-jeq Masbes
Grek - Maenowan Juluun Vask
Herf - Silver Knight Ostooloruu Wuurich
Isk - Maenowan Qaman'Xa
Jenth - Silver Knight Alfalex Nåj Withstr
Krill - RETIRED
Leth - Silver Knight Dexxel Behrn
Mern - Silver Knight Looqar Sim
Nern - Maenowan Ts’An’Ral
Osk - Silver Knight Mylinda Kaaz
Peth - RETIRED
Qek - Maenowan Agemean Villados

A number of Triads were marked as Retired, insufficient initiated warriors to fill them, part of the reason the Cataphracts had been used so sparingly until the Kage was certain where they could best be placed.

There had been over two dozen aspirants at the start of the war, now dwindled to under half that number as they were drafted..and lost.

Triad Grek was on special assignment to Kewda to obtain more Dover Catalyst, Juluun Vask himself already close to retiring at the start of the war. The destruction of the fleet and raids by the piratical Shadow Warriors vessels meant it was unsafe for them to attempt to return.

Triad Mern had been killed on the Grungir, Triad Nern on the Draugr during the devastation of the fleet that heralded the Shadow Warriors arrivals…

Maker! They could missed Looqars Shatterpoint expertise, arguably the best practitioner of the rare technique in the entire order.  Triad Nern under the somewhat aloof Tsan Ral, an abnormally muscular Siniteen, were the Cataphracts experts in data analysis, on the Draugr to assist the fleet with orbital surveillance.  Whether the Siniteens analytical mind could've hastened the development of effective counter measures to the Shadows tactics - even by a single day - none would ever know.

More than that, the friendship, the bonds with members of Mern and Nern - cut so swiftly had been hard on all the Cataphracts.

Triad Osk, the only remaining Triad not insystem , had been tasked with a secret mission known only to Nurhl and the Kage himself.

The damage done to Galtea was substantial, rebuilding would take decades at least. 

Primus Mylinda Kaaz was to accompany Ansons’ loyal diplomat, Maenowan Jorl-Taaf - formerly the liaison to the Jedi on Coruscant - in a diplomatic mission to outer rim systems seeking the possibility of another unity with a stable system that could provide assistance in exchange for Vhal’Dan military support...or - if worse came to worse - the chance to migrate to  new home world under treaty.

Last he heard they were in the Uziel system, a small archipelago world there with a studious population that had proven amenable for further dialogue.

With an exhalation of acceptance and resigned reminder he needed to update the system to mark Aurek, Mern and Nern as ‘Retired’ given the loss of his own Secundus and Tertius, he proceeded inside.

There were twenty Triangular stations in the Arming Chamber, one for each of Twenty possible Triads, each featured a locker for their armour, benches for repairs, various tools, charging stations for Zweihanders, chairs suiter to the particular species of the Triad members.  Each of the active ones also featured personal affects belonging to the Triad members, often pics or micro-holo’s of family and friends, books, posters, music disks, heirlooms, warding icons and the like that made the otherwise uniform stations feel homely.

In the center of each station was a large octagonal plinth with six connection points on top.  Below that was a transparisteel section, within which the Dover Catalyst could be seen.  It was a shimmering granular amalgam of crystalline dust harvested on Kewda beneath the Ancient Stone Guardian, imbuing it with extraordinary resistance to Dark Side - and had been seen against the Shadows more ‘primal’ - Force energies - combine into more conventional nano-technology to facilitate dynamic repair of damage to the Cataphract armor.

Normally each Dover Station would be near to full...the ones he passed were under a third.  While they had lost few Cataphract lives and had only a few serious injuries, the Shadows Warriors Oblivion melee and Maser based ranged weapons were highly damaging. Few Cataphratcs had returned from a clash with any Dover Catalyst left, and with Grek locked out of the system...their stores - admittedly never large due to the rarity of the Catalyst on Kewda and complex process of nanite integration - were running low.

Stepping toward the only other person in the Armoury, Nurhl hoped the Oblivion armour would fail before the Cataphract did.

“hhh….nnnn…” he heard the grunting saw the strained frustration as at the dorn Station Vilhynn Soban struggled against his own pained joints to put on his body suit.

“Here…” Nurhl placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to steady his friend
“Let me help,”

Humble, always so humble yet utterly dignified Soban accepted the aid, Nurhl helping him suit up, noting with a tight jaw the intravenous lines in the back of the Vhal’s neck connected to anaesthetics and stimulants in a noxious mix.

“Thank you…” Soban said, his blue eyes surrounded by bloodshot lines as red as his hair had been as he took his gauntlets from his old locker.

They had met decades ago, both had more colour than gray hair and fur then...yet it seemed mere days to Nurhl.

It had been on Vahla,  a Vhal’Dan expeditionary Vessel crewed by among others, two new knights - Nurhl Båz Rhadde and Anson D'Aklon had arrived to investigate the world, referred to only in a handful of histories. There they found a rich culture but under the iron rule of the Central Coven of the Six In Exile - a group of Six priests of the Goddess Vahl, powerful force users whose rapaciousness was exceeded only by their despotism - all except one.

That One was the youngest priest he so called, ‘Double Blessed’ Vilhynn Soban. Already in his late thirties Soban was possessed of a bulky muscular frame, highly unusual for the Humanoid Vahlans,and a strong connection to the force  indicating in their culture the blessing of the Goddess.

During the negotiations for trade and exploration Anson and Nurhl had found Soban noble and honest despite the other five members of his Coven, trying, despite overwhelming odds to reform the Covens ways, having always harboured doubts about the validity of their rule as well as their methods, but alone he had little success.  The Vhal’Dan had helped Vilhynn to recognize the religious zealotry of the Central Coven of the Six In Exile, forming a strong friendship with Soban over the months.

The Coven however saw the Vhal’Dan ‘Far Outlanders’, and their bringing of contact to the larger Galaxy,  as a threat to their power.  A Flashpoint came, the Coven ambushed the Vhal’Dan.  It was a fatal error, Nurhl and Anson, as the prime security of the expedition, overwhelmed the attackers and took the fight to the Coven.

At the entrance to their Temple, Soban had stood, armed and awaiting them.  He stepped aside.  The Five other Priests did not, the fight was vicious, and bloody, nurhl was only recently knighted then, Anson more experienced but not yet the warrior he was now.  The Coven was on home ground powered by strange totemic devices that made their svelte forms impossibly resilient.  Then Soban had intervened, joining the Vhal’Dan to free his people by blade and fist of the Tyrants he could not reform with words. 

And while it had secured freedom for the Vahl, Soban knew he could not remain there, nurhl and Anson had gladly accepted his request to join the Vhal’Dan where he served for nearly Twenty years as member, soon Primus of Triad Dorn - until the genetic condition of muscular Hypertrophy that had made him so ‘blessed’ and strong became a poison, his joints and bones still formed for a more lithe body failing leaving him in crippling pain to even walk. 

He kept up with the Cataphracts physical requirements as long as he could, but was, again, never too proud to admit a failing or error, retired from active duty the day he failed to pass an exercise circuit after three gruelling attempts.

Triad Dorn had been retired that day, but Soban’s legacy continued on - his Secundus and Tertius - Villados and Alfa easily taking roles as Primus of their own Triads, every member of ‘Corellian’ Triad Cresh had been fostered the trained by him from the underworld of Coronet, Henslou of Triad Jenth credited Soban with his choice to join the Cataphracts rather than pursue a role as Blademaster.

His gentle tone, but deep wisdom born of struggle and commitment to doing the right had made him the ‘conscience’ of the Cataphracts, whom even Nurhl turned to for guidance, the one Cataphract Midge - that curmudgeonly Wookie had never barked at in irritation, the one Dexxel Behrn always checked vitriolic profanities around - Maker even Sora heeded his every word! 

To see him now burdened by the armour he once wore so lightly was heart wrenching.

“You seem troubled Triarch…” Soban said quietly as he locked the plates on, knowing he would never remove them alive.

“I sent many good soldiers to their deaths today,” Nurhl replied, helping his companion.

“With every deployment that chance is always there,”Soban said

“This time it was a certainty,” Nurhl said darkly

“Do you regret it?”

“No. And that is what concerns me.” Nurhl sad honestly, he had looked into those faces as they left for certain death and felt sadness, but felt neither guilt nor remorse.  Soban might be the only one who could understand such, whatever his disagreements with the Coven, it could not have been easy to watch them die.

“You are the Triarch…” Soban reminded him, finally lifting from Nurhl grip to stand under his own power.
“Kortosis itself - you can bend, and you should, but you will never break,”

Standing back Nurhls head lowered, a posture he would never show to another,
“If I cannot justify this sacrifice - and so many before this - with victory that may just break me.  I don’t fear the Shadows...thieves, murderers, powerful but petulant animals to be culled.  It is the price in others lives for defeating them that weighs upon me.”

Soban understood, Nurhl would gladly charge into a dozen of the Oblivion clad beings without hesitation, and sure to slaughter a few of them! But to order others to do so knowing the odds were stacked against them was hard for the Triarch - though he would not flinch to do so, that burden remained with him.

It was a gallows irony that Soban was the one strong enough to lift the Triarch when he was weak.

“Empathy is not a source of fear, but the core of your strength,” Soban counselled hands on his friend shoulder to lift him

“The Justice of our cause is neither invalidated by defeat, nor enhanced by victory.  We have faced slavers, murderers, warlords together, had we fallen on the plains of Iakar, or the warrens of Horox...the Temple of Vahl - the reasons for which we fought remain noble as the sacrifice we might have made then, and these soldiers do now. You know this Nurhl,”

Nodding, eyes rising once more the Triarch agreed
“And yet still I need to hear it from your lips my friend,” he replied appreciatively as the ominous gravity lifted, grateful once more for his confidant, the only one with whom he could shed the adamantium mantle of Triarch for any length of time.

Yet as Soban lifted Caladbolg, his fierce silver bladed zweihander named for a mythical sword of Vahlan legend that had intercepted more blows for Nurhl than he dare count, the Cathar knew this would be the last time.

Soban had locked his armour and beskar-breaker in the Vault eight years ago, expecting in time it would be claimed by a new Cataphract.  Instead the Troubles, and now outright Civil War had intervened claiming the lives of too many aspirants. 

The Armour sat upon him as in days of old, and for a brief moment Nurhl saw Soban strong and focused as he was when they had stood back to back slaughtering hordes of Rakghoul after an outbreak in the Eastern Fringes far from their ‘native’ Taris.  But the small tubes in his neck broke the spell, the modifications to house the intravenous systems all too obvious.

Soban’s will was strong as ever, but his flesh had finally given out.  The Triarch dared not imagine the pain Soban must be feeling even with the most powerful numbing agents available coursing through his body.

The Master Gray seemed to sense his thoughts.

“All our years, all we’ve done has been leading to this...the Shadows - we’ve never seen their like - by Vahl and the Maker may we never see them again.” he gripped Caladbolg as sure as that first time after it had been forged with ancient Vahlan steel integrated to give it a strong Force Callous.

“They can break this armour, wreck this body, but our Will shall never bend,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 10, 2021, 05:30:04 AM
Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 5
Taryn

<That’s them…> Taryn grinned from the silent loneliness of the Vorynx Fighter at a dead float.

<About Time> Jenaea huffed as the Saril Class Transports breached the uppermost layers of Galtea’s increasingly dust polluted atmosphere.

They had been waiting for nearly 3 hours to intercept the Cataphracts headed to Lus’Phor as part of the Ansonites evacuation to the moon.

It meant they had to allow several hundred Vhal’Dan regulars to escape to the moon, but they could be dealt with later. 

The Cataphracts were the only force left among the Ansonites Valens considered a threat, blasting them in transit would save a lot of hassle and leave the Kage, Kyber refineries, Camp Rhadde ad Hephaestus without effective reinforcement. 

“Ripe for the picking,” Taryn grinned at the thought of the booty they would net

There might still be a few Triads about, but the guts were about to be gone.

<I can’t sense anything?> Xani said, number 3 of their flight of 5 Vorynx fighters along with Nyaea and Oran.  Those three were the youngest and most vulnerable so had largely only been involved as healers and on the occasional fighter or transport run.

<Are you sure the Cataphracts are one there?>

<Oh they’re there niblet,> Taryn assumed
<Just cloaking their presence, trying to look like just regular joes,> he said unknowingly, falling for Nurhls sacrificial bluff.

<Oh that makes sense,> Xani agreed.

<Can we hurry this on,> Jenaea complained

<Keep your britches on just a little longer, can’t rush these things> he said as he watched the five blips on the scanner about to be joined by a flight of six Headhunters - not the best of Anson’s fleet to be sure, but given how methodically they’d wiped it out the Vhal’dan had little choice.

<Such a daring pirate you are…> Jenaea snarked
<Such a demure young lass you are> he sniped back without a thought
<Shove it Taryn,>
<Just tell me where you’d like it.> he fire back with a snigger.
<Try your own garbage chute>
<huh?> the naive Xani questined of the sparring.

<I’ll tell you when you’re older> Jenaea assured, the verbal joust in good jest.  switching between teams had allowed the People so recently reunited to get to know each other better, among the more solid friendships built, Taryn and Jenaea found a commonality in having survived among the the worst Space Scum in the galaxy, a camaraderie that manifested in adopting the crass humour of their former lives as an amusement.

<I don’t sense anything> Jenaea added, her danger sense honed by years of avoiding a slave master's whip sharpest among the People.

<Then let's get moving,>

With a flick of their wrists the Vorynx Fighters went from slow geosynchronous float to 10 metres per second, then up to thirty as their Stygium stealth drives were switch off power diverted to forward shiels and the megamaser assault cannons.

Alarms for missile locks and bogie detections blared across the Saril transports, Colonel Yashiv already leaning over the pilots in the cockpit of Breaker 1 quickly issuing orders and sending  signal for additional escorts.

“Shields up, lock onto the Ion trails and adjust the targeting to 1.5 meters ahead of the pulse, tune sensors for mass rather than radiation,” he commanded swiftly taking into consideration all the Navy had learned of the nefarious Oblivion Ghost fighters that stalked upper orbital lanes.

Breaker 2 Confimed,”
Breaker 3 Confimed,”
Breaker 5 Confimed,”
came across the Comm.

Breaker 5 report!”

“I...I can’t…..move my hands…” in the cockpit the Pilot stared at the jittering digits of his fingers as a telekinetic grip stopped him moving anything below his shoulders.

Oran’s eyes narrowed as he caught the pilot in his snare, a quick squeeze of the trigger and four mega-maser blasts lit a vicious red screeched across the empty space.  slightly staggered from the cannons off the triangular hull of the Vorynx fighter the two inner shots hit first, crackling the shields, the next two left them all but dead.

Nyaea spun under him and fired her cannons in a 1,3,2,4 combination rather than all at once, peppering along the Saril’s hull as its point defence batteries replied with yellow streaks and missiles tried to get a lock on the dense Oblivion Hull.

Two of the four shots slammed into the doonium plating, the maser weapons hit with kinetic and energy impacts, crunching in the side of the vessel, the Chiss weaponry more advanced than the Vhal’Dan defences causing serious damage with just 8 hits, not assisted by the fact the pilots were locked in their own bodies, other officers desperately trying to climb over them to divert power back to shields and take evasive maneuvers.

It was too late as Xani came in over the top, her Tri-Repulsor shields easily taking the Sarils hits as she dropped a Shikkar torpedo straight into the forward section, the ultradense phrik drill bit rending the cockpit off the transport as she zoomed past, its proton core blasting the remainder into fiery blue chunks.

The Headhunters arrived as the remaining Sarils took evasive maneuvers trying to zig zag to the relative safety of the Ansonite Fleet remnants outer perimeter around Lus’Phor.

The Corvette Fossegrimen responded immediately, moving to assist, Taryn’s long range scanner picking up the movement and tightening the time with his lips as he moved to hit the second transport.

A stream of green fire darted in front of the headhunters, the Blackstone hull of the Vorynx fighters made them difficult to see visually, the pilots trusting in cues from the Ion trails of the engines and mass detection equipment.

Kyrringa enroute to assist,”
“Get the Vipers to Micro jump in,”
Frostglave we need this corridor secure!”

Nurhl heard every message, the fleet giving their all to protect the vessels devoid of any Cataphracts.

He stood with Triads Cresh, Besh, Herf, Esk, Forn and Leth in a circle around Triads Isk and Qek .

The central two Triads lead by Primus Qaman’xa of the Clergy, and Secundus Eirtaé Vor-Rue of Qek, a Yashuvhi with a deep Mystic talent, Isk and Qek focused on projecting their Auras into the vessels using carefully placed Kyber Crystals as ‘anchors’ on the ships.

The Vhal’Dan were quick in responding, their vessels' technological limitations made up for with numbers as the Sarils made moves as if to attempt an extremely dangerous lunar corridor micro jump.

The Kyrringa dropped from its own micro jump lase blazing and its complement spewing out.

<Cover us Nerf herder,> Taryn ordered,

The Vhal’dan tactical officers quickly picked up the five additional contacts as Taryn’s second wing of fighters were revealed.

Lydan, still sore from Sora’s beating, hit the accelerators to full, his wife, sister, Evyn and Evaea in his group of five Vorynx fighters, Maeson and Melron gripping onto the twins' hulls.

Lydan lead Aaea and Lyaea in a direct charge against the recently arrived frigate, Shikkar torpedoes surging ahead as the Twins used the Blackstone plate of the Vorynx fighters potential to the full cloaking it in their own Cloak of Shadow to make it all but invisible.

The Headhunters and Frigates cannons redirected to take out the torpedoes, by then Frostglave  was in firing range, the Sarils seeking its protective field of fire.

A 50 kilometer sphere of space became a cacophony of soundless blue and green energy fire, doonimum crunching missiles and dangerously fast evasive maneuvers. 

Hades canons and maser energised phirk magnetic accelerator cannons chewed through any headhunters they caught, the ten Aethan fighters weaving at incredible speed as their superhuman pilots require no interital dampers, genehanced bodies and ultradense fighter structures able to cope with extreme turns that would ruin lesser craft.

The Vhal’dan repsonsed with tight controleld forations, concentrating on overwhelming individual targets, their accuracy improving with each pass, peppering the Chiss Tri-Layer repulsors and breaching to lay heavy blows against the Blackstone hull.

Screeching dangerously close to the hull the Twins dropped Maeson and Melron onto the Frostglave’s underside boots mag locked with a heavy thud, the two men cracking durasteel plates open to hurl in implosion grenades, the running along the length of the vessel causing immersuable damage, too small for the headhunters to pick off it left the Corvette struggling to shake them free as the Twins cracked three headhunters moments after as they revealed their presence fully.

Ceaseless efforts of tactical officers to coordinate fire on the larger vessels forced Xani and Nyaea to pull back as their shields were lost, Adaea drove a Shikkar into the Kyrringa but tailed by headhunters couldn't’ guide the drill like torpedoes through critical systems.

<Frell it, follow my lead!> Taryn demande as the tide turned against them, they could rely on their superior shields and armour only so long.

Lydan swept in blasting two fighters off Nyaea’ tail to free them to join with Taryn on an attack run on the four Sarils covering each other with overlapping fields of fire.

<Silky come in on the flank, Nerf Herder down the middle full speed, we’ll cover,>

Expanding their shield radius Taryn, Oran and Jenaea covered Lydan, Lyaea and Adaea bursting head the aether pushing them faster than their sub-lights could, Evaea swept in covered by Evyn behind.

The Sarils carefully designed turrets spun round to open up on them, the expanded shield radius taking the hits as they lined up the four vessels.

All seven fighters unleashed their Hades cannons on the Saril’s, dozens of shots per second peppering them.  It gave away their exact position to the Vhal’Dan who were merciless in reprisal.

Taryn gritted his teeth as the tense moment dragged for weeks, rapid calculations in the mind of an experienced space tactician indicated his flight shields would last barely five seconds longer than the Saril’s. 

Nurhl expanded his presence through the meld Qaman’xa and Eirtaé Vor-Rue pojected with a last determined effort to reveal their ‘presence’ on the ships. 

The Aethans felt the life signs they had come to destroy finally revealed in what they thought was the panic of imminent death.

With a second wind, reaching the Bridge, Melron kicked in the transparisteel view screen of the Frostglave the astonished bridge crew slamming the blast covers, the doonium curtain slamming down before the atmosphere could vent dangerously,  but causing enough of a momentary shock to reduce their fire.

Six Shikkars sped at the Saril’s in tight curls as their shields began to buckles under intense megamaser fire, Evaea on the Flank adding her own two torpedoes perpendicular to the main launch as the women in the party projected with what concentration they could hexes and malefic curses on the Cataphract crew within.

Nausea and disorientation affected half the crew, enough that their counter fire destroyed only four of the torpedoes, the other four drilling into the assault transports, metal ribboning and heating orange hot at the impact of the ultradense material, the proton bomb cores of the Shikkar detonating moments after - cold blue white mini novae wrecking the ships on the rear and sides.

With grunted effort Qaman’xa cut the link to the orbiting Kyber crystals, the Cataphracts all around her grimacing and trembling from the effort of projecting their aura’s over thousands of kilometers.

Taryn felt elation as fifty two life signals winked out, some familiar to him from the Cataphracts previous engagements.

<That was him,> Evaea grunted confirming the Triarchs death even as she peeled away under heavy fire.

Two of the Sarils were completely destroyed, another venting so much atmosphere and beset by internal plasma fires it would be wreckage in moments, the fourth staggering along only the handful of crew in the now blast door sealed bridge alive, armour and equipment creating a rubble cloud that Lydan now bounced through.

<We need to get outta here!> Jenaea demanded, her danger sense as always trusted by the People absolutely as more Vhal’Dan fighters arrived from micro jumps, wings locking into attack positions determined to avenge the losses.
 
<Stealth drives on everyone pull out and micro jump, jobs done, not sticking around in this heat> Taryn ordered breaking away

The retreat was fast, messy and uncomfortable, Melron and Maeson barely grabbing onto Taryn ship before he jumped, the Vorynx fighters shields completely extinguished and much of the hull covered in carbon scoring by the time they got away.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 10, 2021, 05:31:34 AM
Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 6
Ghosts of the Golan’s

“Come on…” Vask muttered as he tangled through wires and circuit boards.

Yorel’s Lupine strength and speed would buy them minutes -possibly seconds - enough for Mylinda and Jorl to get away and himself and Gerchon to try and disable the Interdictor Field.

But not much more.

He traced the braille marked wires and tugged them out where he needed - while the field was projected by dozens of spherical floating bulbs in space, they relied on navigational data from the Golan’s to remain in sync, damaging that he could force it to shut down as their tidal locks to each other were broken.

Grasping out another handful of wire he felt another Concrete
Yorel is dead. We need to run

“That’ll have to do,” he grunted, getting up as fast as his old back could straighten from the crouched position on the engineering deck.

Gerchon covering him was already moving, you don’t live 300 years by staying still.

“How long do we have?” the Feeorin asked with a hint of humour

“Not long enough,” was his reply as they pounded through the corridors trampling the odd body where their feet fell gracelessly.

Maker only knew what the thing hunting them was, and what it, or several like it, may have done on Galtea. 

While the fact Yorel could engage it for a time implied it was at least mortal and finite in its skills, the enormity of those abilities made it a threat they didn’t have time or resource to engage - worse they were trapped in its lair on the Golan.

They made straight for the hangars knowing there was no one and nothing here to saved - hoping the same could not be said of Galtea.

Irritation mixed with enjoyment as Kiraea swept through the corridors fast as darkness after her prey, tasting the desperation of their run on the aether that only added to the thrill of her inevitable victory.  Three of these Cata-fails down, three more to go, she’d already beaten everyone else's head counts and so easily too.

But more than that, if their intel was correct, killing the lanky guy with the docu-case mag locked to his wrist would put a sword through the Vhal’Dan’s best chance of recovery after the war.

She slid, skidded and spun through the narrowest of access corridors and tightest of gaps to make up their head start with Aethan speed.

Mylinda was within sight of the large air lok doors to the North Platforms when the wall exploded outward, a feminine figure in black shrouded by flecks of metal with an arrow nocked and primed aimed at her face.

Jorl’Taf shoved the Primus aside barely in time, the Oblivion arrow screamed through the air and scraped the side of Mylinda’s face plate, bouncing off and hitting Jorl’Taf himself in the cheek, slicing part of his face open.

He didn’t even stop, saber hissing alive he swung straight at the Oblivion fiend with saber and the case on his arm - composed of adamantium it may contain documents but it was damn good bludgeon.  The rpisote Oblivion blade scratched along the case proving it a useful shield too - far from a burden the wrist cuffed case was an aset.

Mylinda soon pushed in at the flank, the two Vhal’dan trying to voerwhelm the Shadow creature - it was hard to tell if they were making any progress, it moved so quickly and with such contortion they could barely tell if they were striking a limb or a head - all they knew was they were slowly losing.

A flare of pure blue force fire erupted from the black whorl of death, striking Jorl’Taf in the chest before Mylinda shouldered him painfully aside to take the blast, her Legacy armours force callous able to endure the Force base attack far better than the Ambassadors light tactical armour.

Jorl’Taf dropped and rolled, pushing the flames away with the Force as best he could feeling the hideous energy try to consume him. 

Mylinda now faced the Shadow alone once more, and far more fatigued than last time.

In barely three passes of her twin short swords Kiraea dominated the comparatively slow and clunky Cata-fail.  The Primus wove and struck where she could, but alone she was simply outmatched, her armour taking scratches and cuts but the score.

Yet a Cataphract was never alone.

“On your left!” Vask yelled behind her, Mylinda knowing the old man’s trick leaned left rather than right as the remainder of Triad Grek unleashed their arm cannons and micro missile at the shadow.
Kiraea bounced back on her heels rolling and sliding to avoid every single shot - but it gave the damn Cata-fails time to regroup.

Mylinda stood in between Gerchon and Vask, both fresh and determined to avenge Adrii, the battelmeld soothing Mylinda for her Triads loss and bringing her into a new Grek-Osk mix, the ambassador too partially recovering to rise on his long strong legs.

Four onto one - this will be fun Kiraea smiled viciously leaping straight at them, preceded by her last grenades, a micro-magma mine and her Oblivion arrows fired telekinetically.

Four blades met the onslaught, Fou minds acting as one to deflect shunt and protects from the explosions and bladed projectiles as swords and sabers met in the center in a furious whirl wind of cuts and curses, impacts ratchet through their arms a dozen a second as they clashed with the machine gun like oblivion swords raining upon them.

Flares of Force fire were met with telekinetic buffets form Gerchon and Jorl’Taf, Mental Thorns hammered out by Vask and Mylinda’s indomitable focus - they began to get their own back as Gerchon and Mylinda’ saber expertise on each flank limited Kiraea’ motion, and Vask and Jorl’Tafs sheer tenacity began to punch through.

They could barely see on the dark armour, but the damn beskar-breakers were cutting into her Mark II plate, irritated Kiraea summoned up the bodies and discarded tools and crates that littered the nearby hangar floor to hurl at the gang of Jedi that were trying to surround her.

Force to avoid the missiles gave her space to escape, hurling her last dagger into the Feeorin’s leg thee  she’d already sliced off a piece of legacy armour.

Gerchon grunted but nothing more.  They finally had the Shadows measure - that it took three experienced cataphracts and a Maenowan to do so was sobering to be sure, but the novelty and surprise with which she had wiped out half their number was gone.

Kiraea realised this too as she leapt from ruined ship to ship through the hangar bay, tempting them to follow.  She now saw the strength of the Cataphracts was their unity, three of them plus the lanky maenowan were too much...but that was their weakness too - if they lost just one Cataphract she would dissect the others swiftly.

Her thermal vision saw the burn in their bodies, precision sight noted the heaving respiration to their forms, she needed only to drain their pathetic stamina a little more.

Shadows don’t get tired Vask concrete thought sounded through the battlemed like a gong shattering any thought they could wear her down with numbers.

There was nothing to be won here, and only death if they stayed.

As one they began the covered sprint to their ships, Beskar breakers in high guard alternating with shots from their arm mounted cannons.

Kiraea responses was destructive, she created a gauntlet of explosions on already shattered parked vessels and Oblivion arrows criss crossing their path - a gauntlet of flame and shadow their sabers and protection of each other kept at bay.

The Aethan swung down from the overhead cargo rails to take cuts at them every few second, more and more lacerations and burst of ablative plasma amidst the furore.

The Sarils were just up ahead as Vask blocked another swipe aimed at the Ambassadors neck while cringing through an explosion to the side.

Trap he was certain to pivot painfully at the last second before their ship blew up in front of them with a wave of heat that felt almost a pleasant contrast to the dead cold of the Golan.

Desperation briefly coursed through the meld till another certainty hit Vask’s spine
Not enough explosives or time… the Shadow could only trap Grek’s ship, Osk was still fine!

Kiraea doubled her offensive slide tackling Gerchon off his feet, his wounded legs nearly buckling Mylinda arm and kinetic props keeping him upright, Girl’Taf felt his skin crisp under the heat from the plasma fire sof Greks ship as he cut another Oblivion arrow away from hitting Vask’s back.

The old human dove into the remaining Saril lander, scrambling to the cockpit, Gerchon just behind turned to guard the entry as Kiraea slammed down racing at them.

Gerchon, Mylinda ad Jorl’Taf once more found themselves weathering a storm of perfectly time cuts and acrobatic kicks and punches that were leaving them purple and green under their armour as the Saril booted up.

Kiraea was so very close, sweeping under one beskar beaker, leaping over another, then driving her sword into the chest plate of the Feeorin who staggered back, her knee lifting to slam into the Ambassadors side kicking him into the Saril further, his head snapping back at the wrong moment to hit a support causing blood to spray from his nose.

BACK!” Mylinda yelled with all the Will Force her anger and grief at the losses could muster.

Against her own will Kiraea staggered back, her swords still on guard, the break just enough for the Saril to rise, Mylinda pulling Gerchon in fully and slamming the door to close.

Quickly recovering Kiraea swept up her bow and fired her arrows straight into the engines of the Saril even as Vask punched it, the ultraadense weapons piercing and drilling into the doonium seeking out the core systems.

The Saril sputtered as it reached the shimmering blue atmo-shield, he could feel the Shadow controlling the nefarious arrows lodged in the hull then buckled as incredibly the Shadow used raw telekinetic power to try to implode the ship. 

The walls began to crack inwards, controls began to spark as Kiraea reached out to break the ship with the Aether her fingers curling into fists as if imitating giant hands crushing the ship.

“Shavit!” Vask yelled as he slammed the hyperdrive on a blind jump.

A backwash of pseudo motion displacement sent Kiraea tumbling backward, her sheer weight causing her to leave a massive dent in the tug she slammed into as the Saril vanished into the void.

She was up barely a second later, for the first time taking a full assessment of the energy he had expended not managing to kill the Knights.

“Frell,” she sniffed indignant before stalking off.

<<<<>>>>

Calm Before the Storm

“Three is exceptional,” Jarys said proudly as his wife twitched under Kassyndra’s administrations.

“Six would’ve been bet...,” Taryn quipped
he hadn’t finished his sentence when Lyaea slapped him in the back of the head,
“OW!”

For the first time in months the entire People were together, assembled on the Aephordaea before the final push.

They would liberate Saani K’aval, destroy D’Aklon and his cronies, and secure the wealth of holocrons, artefacts, Kyber crystals, research, and technology of the Vhal’dan. 

And with the Cataphracts dead and scattered there was no longer any force that could stop them.

Final repairs were made on Mark 2 armour. Swords and arrows of Blackstone sharpened to a near molecular edge. 

Blood runes were repainted on skin, totems and fetishes imbued with protective and offensive powers restored.

Body gloves, well worn at the joints were slipped on, Oblivion plate reclasped, bows, sword and Hades weapons humming with refilled charges clipped onto back and hip mag fixtures.

With cool detachment Ari reassembled her sabers at the workbench of the armoury as the others headed out one by one once rearmed.  Every moment her mother was held prisoner was a moment she might be lost forever, but the intensity of the hormonal surges the Technocracy had designed her genes to produce in just such instances kept her mind ice clear, knowing she needed the full force of the People.

Piece by piece they had dismantled D’aklon’s forces, leaving it a writhing limbless lump awaiting only it’s head to be severed. 

Then finally her parents would be safe...from Anson if not themselves. 

Such was the extent, and limited scope of Aethan filial responsibility.

A flick of her thumbs and both blades snapped on glowing purple, the power cells fully charged and capacitors replaced. They were strong as the day she had first made them with Saani.

Clasping them to her belt her hand swept passed the palm sized belt box containing her marble sized link orbs, the utter absence of any presence in the red one that sat closest to her belt buckle tearing her from her focus.

“Promise me you’ll go back to this girl you have feelings for, that the two of you won't waste another moment apart or at odds when life is so short and so precious, catch every precious moment together like your Father and I have”

Ari was determined to abide by her mothers advice, not because she had promised Saani - important as that was - Ari couldn’t live a moment longer than necessary without Milaea knowing how much she loved her.

This war had caused a schism between them, physically and emotionally, that she needed to heal as soon as she could.

She just hoped Milaea felt the same.

“Of course she does,” Kiraea unnoticed startled the younger woman, sliding over to wrap her arms protectively around Ari’s neck and kiss her cheek.

“You two seemed to be the only ones who couldn’t see how much you wanted each other...” Kiraea complained slipping off to lean against the armour locker
“It was getting annoying,” she smirked

Ari nodded sadly
“Milaea was right...about everything...this has gone too far, my father he…” she shook her head not wanting to admit outloud the sour truth of what Kazic had become, for it simply validated every hateful stereotype Kiraea had taught her about Outsiders.

“We will end the threat to their lives, get what was promised to us then...I need to go back to Milaea straight away,” Ari’s voice regained its comspure.

Kiraea nodded approvingly, finally breaking Ari’s trust in Outsiders, and her adoptive Frellick-face-father no less, was a substantial victory for Karintha, Valens and Kiraea’s vision of the People, Ari and Milaea’s pairing an equally valuable step forward.

The last of her weapons locked to her armour, Kiraea took Ari’s arm as they walked to the hangar.

“Just you wait love, you and Mili will be under, over and all around the Ursus rugs in no time!”
Ari’s heart squeezed a little too hard from Kiraea’s infectious enthusiasm for the younger woman's love life, mental images of Kiraea’s imaginings unconcealed in the Aethan group thought. 

The entirety of the People were waiting for her divided into their teams - though all in full armour and to any other observer statue like figures of deepest black, she could tell each one from the subtle differences in their posture.

The loose confident lean of Taryn on a Vorynx fighter that Lyaea lay back on as if on a strane holo-shoot, Selaena’s ferocious protective stance over and behind the barely containable enthusiasm of Xanea, Lydan sitting calmly beside Adaea as she tinkered with some new invention to pass the time, Evaea as always taking up minimal space and light, her twin brother Evyn more exposed turned toward Nyaea who shied away with her shoulder but leaned toward him with her hips.

Maeson hefted his Hades repeater in one hand, cradled Jenaea’s waist in the other, Kassyndra and old Melron reliable and steady holding the center, Oran and Maekal polar opposites, the first humble and concerned about the others existing injuries, the latter arrogant and seeking as many heads as he could carry to lay at Eva’s feet.


Ever curious Yorna was flipping through an appropriated Vhal’Dan text upside down looking for secret messages, while her uncle Taran stood firm as a mountain behind Karintha, the Matriarch dominating the centre of the group prepared to unleash her ferocious Tribe on the world below, led by the men on either side of the ruling couple Jarys and Valens who had orchestrated the utter ruination of the once mighty Vhal’Dan.

They had come here for Her - to protect and to avenge her - resources, experience and technology they sought were a reward but not the motivation.

And she had come here to protect her Mother and Father, Ari couldn't have done it without them, she just hoped Kazic appreciated the risk they had taken, and the sacrifices Ari herself had made for his benefit.

“Thank You...all of you...for…” she could barely express how much it meant they were on the verge of ending Anson’s threat to her parents.

“We are one People,” Karintha quickly assured her holding the young women’s shoulders
“No thanks is needed in protecting our own...Now, let us finish this war,”

<<<<<>>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on November 10, 2021, 05:33:56 AM
Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 7

Sora
Pain, heat and hate run cold through her veins.

Ancient battle armour, crapped and damaged but infused with the memory of war was slowly regenerated from its wrecked state into a countless amount of nano units to comprise her new….no longer armour the Scientists and Engineers informed her - but body.

Already subject to experiments on cybernetic grafting and neuro-nanite interfaces, one more procedure was nothing.

Sora hung suspended over the pool of Advanced Dover Catalyst Nanites, built in part from molecularised ancient pieces of otherwise irreparable Cataphract Armour it would not suffer the same fate of her previous nanites, its Force Callous was estimated to be 75 per cent effective against Electric Judgement - it would be near invulnerable to the disintegration Aresaea K’aval had inflicted upon her last time.

She was slowly lowered in, the nanties forming from a mass of black-grey sand into a living form that covered her, forming in accordance with the neuo-nanites in her somatosensory cortex into a vast body, 

The Nanites were both body and armour now, the ancient plate in microscopic form covering her entirely, able to morph into a hair thin blade, or a chest sized hammer at her whim.

The metal itch was intense, far worse than before.

But Ksorallyne Apus was Hamask

She bore pain.

She would endure.   

She would Destroy.

<<<<>>>>


Ghosts of the Golan’s

“Hyperdrive is busted…comms are out...” Vask sighed slouching in the hold where the others had replaced their armour with bacta patches and intravenous medi-drips.
“But sublights should get us to Galtea on overdrive...in a few weeks…”

“We should run into a patrol before then…” Mylinda tried to be positive although given the Golan’s were virtually abandoned…

“By the Exalted...what was that thing…” Gerchon croaked out, referencing the Eldest and strongest of his Feeorin species who traditionally ruled the others.

“Mortal, that is what matters…” Vask replied finally sitting down fully, the tense weight of his armour relieved at last.

“If it bleeds it can die,” Gerchon gruffly laughed

“There are many questions…” the Ambassador confirmed, idly tossing his comm link, broken in the fighting, aside, then held the case close to his chest.

“...but I suspect these documents, the agreement with Zilior...is now more important than ever,”  he finished grimly as the Saril continued its slow advance.

<<<<<>>>>

Nurhl

In a meditative pose he sat in the very centre of the rounded Seclusiam, breath slowly drawing in and out as Durandal hovered unassembled in the air before him, the golden crystal at is heart gleaming in the dim faux-candlelight of the near sacred space.

With practiced familiarity he slid the components of the sword of his ancestors back into place, the snap hiss of its blazing light filling the chamber briefly before deactivated it floated into his double handed grip as he stood, gazing up to the adamantium gaze of the mighty Saril Baz-Rhadde.

The founder of the Cataphracts as they existed now had faced his hardest test on the cursed fields of Ruusan four centuries before.  He had lived, gone on place the foundation stones of the Order that In mere hours Nurhl would fight to protect. 

Nurhl felt the strength of his ancestor in the armour they both wore, passed down through the generations, earned by bloody determination not lineage, but all the stronger for the blood tie.   Before the Triad a Catapahracts first trio of connections was to his Sword and Armour, the unity of the body, plate and blade essential to make the Warrior whole physically.

These connected Past, Present and Future as the legacy weapons and armour were passed down.  For Nurhl the Past was fixed in stone all around him, the Present was the blood in his veins.  The Future of the Cataprhacts and the Vhal’Dan - that was what he fought to ensure. 

The Shadows were murderers and thieves, anarchist psychopaths with the strength of demi-gods and the capriciousness of unweaned pups. Ovarug damned himself beyond redemption by allying with such.

It was no exaggeration to consider the upcoming battle a contest of Order against Chaos, Civilization against Savagery, Loyalty against Teachery.

Nurhl was proud to fight on the side of Honour and Nobility.

The vast doors behind opened and he smelt the familiar cinnamon tones of Ravra beside the more musky intensity of Alfa, his fellow Cathars.

“The Troika stands ready Triarch,” The Primus of Triad Esk informed him.

Taking up his helm he clasped it on with a hermetically sealed hiss, knowing it would not be removed except by force or in victory.

He felt the whisper of Saril’s stern determination flow through him as he stride toward the Primus’, pausing briefly before his fellow Cathar, reaching out to place a hand on each of their foreheads as the bowed in deference - not to his rank, but to the respect they held for him as leader and Alpha of the Den.

Malja watan” he spoke in a whisper that echoed through the Seclusiam

‘May you always find home’ – the ancient and revered injunction passed from the time of Revan till today among Cathar - and that was what he found in this trio, in his Troika, in the Vhal’Dan and on Galtea.

This he would defend with all his life and soul.

Malja watan”  Ravra and Alfa echoed, knowing this was the last time together these words of honour would pass between them.

Together they stepped from the Seclusiam and into the War.

<<<<>>>>

Anson

“...of the seven survivors…” the static distorted voice of the Fleet Admirals said solemnly
“None were Cataphracts,”

Anson leaned back in the cheap durasteel chair, half the Collegium present in the meeting room on Lus’Phor, industrial and simple; it had been intended for the Mining operations teams not the leadership of the Vhal’Dan order.

Of the Council present a third were aghast at the news, Two Tribii and the Triarch of the Cataphracts killed in the latest fighter raid - nineteen of their Cataphracts gone in an instant - of the 36 they had started the war with 6 were locked out of system on other missions, and 21, including Nurhl Båz-Rhadde himself, were dead.

Anson D’Aklon carefully noted the dispositions of each member of his ‘loyal Council’ to the news.  There would be consequences for their disloyal thoughts once this was over.

“Thank you Admiral, I will contact you soon,”

After a deadly silence Master Marc-Andr Drevifv spoke up

“Kage, the Cataphracts have proven, thus far, to be the only effective counter to Kazic’s Shadows Warriors on the ground, this loss…fundamentally alters the strategic balance,”

“The Loss is great,” Anson agreed
“But our will remains firm, we will lure the enemy to us and crush them on Lus’phor,”

Inside Anson was struggling to contain his glee at Nurhls genius, while Anson’s Flow Sight had identified the moments of opportunity, the Triarch had exploited them with utter perfection - this would not only allow them to Ambush Kazic’s monsters to enormous effect, but also expose the disloyal among Ansons own side.

“Kage perhaps we should consider….”

Before Drevifv could utter something treasonous an alarm sounded, a Sentinel by the door bowed his head speaking into his helmet comm then swiftly moved to the Kage’s side whispering.

“Its seems, honoured Maenowans, our time has come,”

Rising strong and sure, Anson stood, hand gently but very obviously placed on his saber hilt.

“This Chaos ends today,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on November 12, 2021, 05:00:06 PM
And so the war continues...

The inclusion of the different theatres of war (in this case: the Golan II weapon platforms) is further indication of Valens' tactical brilliance: after all, they are responsible for the defense of the Galtea System itself, covering the lone hyperspace lane and only means of safe egress (of course, with the Marcol Void, blind jumps are possible...but definitely NOT recommended...).  No wonder that he tasked Kiraea with assassinations for anyone unlucky enough to work/occupy/visit the Golans; aside from being frightfully effective, she's also incredibly thorough.  The fact that she was able to fight off an entire Triad (AND an additional maenowan) is testament to her danger.  Conversely, between Mylinda, Gerchon, and Vask, they proved their own mettle for their Triarch and their Kage.  Speaking of...

The fact that both Anson and (especially) Nurhl understand that terrible sacrifice for tactical benefit is sometimes the only option shows their leadership as well as their fortitude.  Nurhl has quickly become one of my favorites: not only as a fleshed-out character (of course, this story is replete with them e.g. details like Vask's "Concretes" or Mylinda's Voice to name but two) but also as someone who is NOT a villain but rather a soldier/leader/father/friend defending what he believes in.  In short: the Pride of the Vhal'Dan^^

This is certainly best exemplified by the multiple Cataphracts introduced in these last few chapters.  Reading them in situ is such a pleasure, one can feel the sorrow of each loss and the celebration of each win.  I had to admit: that reading this has inspired me to create a few more characters in my own writing, and that has everything to do with LSG's exceptional storytelling  :)

Another favorite: seeing Taryn in action.  His experience as a literal space-pirate gives him a distinct advantage compared to most of the People.  The fact that he fell to the ruse that Nurhl implemented in no way detracts from his skill (especially in light of the more metaphysically-oriented Cataphracts projecting their presence in the Sarll ships).  Moreover, this is an excellent juxtaposition between the two sides...and as with all things in war, no one is without blood on their hands.

Oh, and teasing us with Sora was just icing on the proverbial cake  ;)

Meta-note: LSG's writing is incredible, especially considering just how well it dovetails what had been written years ago^^  But the real treat here HAVE to be the details: so many easter eggs and 3-dimensional characterization that only continues to add to my eagerness in reading these chapters (indeed, the entire RotA story)!

BRILLIANT  :)



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:49:17 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray — Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 1

Deployment — 1 Hour Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust

“They know no fear,”
 
Micromissiles locked into launchers, blasters thrummed with charge, power armour mechanisms ensconced beneath their heavy plate whirred.
 
“They will not be intimidated, they will not retreat,”
 
Storied Zweihanders, many dating back to the New Sith War, were given final sharpening, each blade had accumulated as much personality as its wielders as they passed through the generations.
 
“Our tactics will neither surprise nor confound them,”
 
Saril Transports sped low and fast over the northern poles of Galtea, Primus of Triad Besh Jelan Ya’Qul loading his custom Sulen Gauss rifle with military precision, Ravra exuding calm and confidence to the Tribus deployed to Hephaestus Base,  a steady low growl in Primus Ostooloruu Wuurich throat.
 
“Our strength will not overpower them, our speed will not out manoeuvre them, our armour will not slow them,”   
 
On Lus’Phor the second Tribus positioned quickly and quietly in the dark purple of the crystal caverns mined long ago for their precious Kyber, primed to ambush the inevitable rescue attempt on Saani K’aval.
 
Primus Alfalex Nåj Withstr carefully parsed through his tactical scenarios with his Triad, Corellian Cresh  endless banter relaxed that Triad, the Clergy Meditated in a small huddle building metaphysical defences in preparation.
 
 “They have slain hundreds, friends and family, desecrated their bodies for foul necromancy and magick.  Their assassins and heavy units have known no defeat against our Shadows, Sentinels, Armoured Infantry…”
 
30 Cataphracts, a full Troika deployed in three Tribii at each location, Sora, Vilyhyn Soban and the Triarch himself.
 
The latter two stood in the heart of the Seclusiam, the Holocron of Xinis’zo on a pedestal surrounded by the mighty warriors of old carved into the walls. Here Nurhl would defend his ‘Den’ using the artefact to lure two of the three strongest of the Shadow Warriors  as Anson had foreseen - the so called ‘Beast’ and the ‘Blade’.
 
Agemean Villados and Triad Qek, the strongest now Aurek had been broken, would have his back, while Triads Leth under the vicious Behrn, and Forn lead by the inexorable Kall-jeq Masbes would deal with whoever else dared intrude. 
 
“But they have never…” Nurhl finished as the full force of Cataphract’s, Sora the lone Hamask ever the exception - but such was the nature of her essential role - settled their minds into the Battle-meld, the Force knowing no distance though their bodies were far apart.
 
“…faced the full force of a Troika.”
 
A positive synergy flowed through each member enhancing their co-ordination and effectiveness by drawing on all their specialities.  Multiplied further across the entire Troika, the Force and neuro-nanites that used quantum networks connected them in a way unlike their Vhal’dan brethren.
 
Final checks were done, helmet seals hissed locking in place.
 
In the North the landers banked hard toward an otherwise unremarkable thin crust of ice, glass like fragments thrown up as their ships spec’d to high density atmospheric insertion headed beneath the Northern Seas.
 
On Lus’Phor mines were activated, trip wires sprung to life, cover positions nestled into.
 
At ‘Nurhls Den’ the ever changing passages of the Labyrinthine Istic fortress were supplemented by double the number of automated defences, Vaults were sealed, murderous traps around the Nimati Plains activated along with surface to Space Weaponry.
 
 “Today we fight the Abominations risen from the Abyss for the One TRUE Kage D’Aklon, for the Vhal’Dan Order, and most of all for the Honour and Mateship of those in your Triad…”
 
Nods, shoulder nudges and a variety of other idiosyncratic pre battle bonding activities occurred across the nine Triads, a vast diversity of species, beliefs and skills, combined in perfect harmony harnessing those differences as tools to defend the home and family that embraced and valued them all against a Monocultural Xenophobic and intolerant force that viewed such multi-racialism as abominable.
 
Feeling the rumble of the beaked transports against the ever higher pressure deep ocean waters though he was thousands of kilometers away, hearing the footsteps of approaching enemies on Lus’Phor despite being on the planet below the moon Nurhl began in sonorous tone the ancient Call and Response of the Cataphracts.
 
“We serve the Maker”
 
The Force is Our Shield” The Troika replied with unified conviction, even accounting for the varigate beliefs of Qaman’xa, atheism of the Lorrdian Al’Marq, spiritualist tendancines of Chimi and ancestral/nature worship of Wuurich. Their diversity was another steel rod in the bundle of their strength.
 
“We honor Our Ancestors” Nurhl gripped the Zweihander Durandal wielded by his blood ancestors, Balmung in Villados hands from her forebears as Primus of Triad Qek, and Caladbolg Soban’s bespoke blade forging a new legacy.
Their swords now our own
 
“We protect the Vhal'Dan”
We are their Armour
 
The last of the Dover Catalyst had been used filling their armours reserves, the rest given over to scientists for Sora’s reconstruction. The ancient plates that had seen the hot sun of Ruusan in the Sith wars polished and gleaming ready to face an enemy the likes of which had never been imagined in those times. 
 
“We fight for our Triad!”
Minds and bodies are ONE!
 
Three worked as one in a Triad, Nine worked as One in a Tribus, Twenty Seven worked as One in a Troika.   
 
“…We bring justice and retribution to the enemies of the Vhal’Dan! For the KAGE” he finished with bullish vigour
 
One voice from twenty nine vocal and telepathic communication organs bellowed a firm and unsupressable reply.
 
“FOR THE KAGE”

<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:50:19 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 2
Infiltration — 55 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>Galtea - Northern Polar Expanse - Hephaestus Base<<<<
“Confirm breach Ensign,”

“Breach confirmed Commander,”

Maenowan Tisshant Jou stood at the centre of the small but highly advanced Security Control Room deep within Hephaestus Base. A vast hololith screen before him as the four members of the observation team checked on the breach to an ice sheet far to the south.

Built into the wall of a deep ocean trench that overlooked a frothing sea floor spread crack in the mantle whose bubbling magma provided warmth and geothermal power.  He had been assigned to control this highly classified weapons and Force Research base after being injured some four months prior.

His newly grafted left leg still twitched on occasion, the vat grown organs part of an experimental program to develop better organ replacements rather than utilize cybernetics…primarily because some three months before that a number of factories producing grafting circuits and micro motors had been destroyed by the Anzat Traitors Animals.

“We are not detecting any further movement nearby Commander…broadening sensor sweep permission to activate second ring sensors,”

The base operated on minimal power and absolutely avoided activating any of the sensors unless necessary as they could not completely prevent stray electromagnetic waves dispersing, even though the 3 kilometres of water flecked with iron from the sea geysers did much to scuttle it.

“Granted.”

He kept a keen eye on the screens…something felt amiss…his leg twitched once more…

He had been left for dead by one of the Shadows, or as he preferred to call them, Animals that had turned the tide for the false Kage.  It had burst into his bivouac while he slept, like Fe’nrir himself it had ravaged his Teidowan with its bare hand before turning on him…

Stumbling from sleep he had time enough to light his saber and managed a glancing blow on its ‘shoulder’ before a slash of darkness cut fast and cold through just under his hip.

By then the rest of the Platoon was alerted and the Animal had simply left him for dead as it retreated from the hail of blaster fire that tore the bivouac apart.

Too injured to return to the front lines, he accepted this assignment when the Kage personally offered it to him with pride, knowing the innovations and prototypes being developed here would not only help win this war but safeguard the Vhal’Dan into the future.

“Anything?” He inquired.

“No sir,”

“Deactivate the sensors,” he tapped his commlink flicking to the Engineering channel

“Shesh 4-9-0” he began with the authorisation code signalling his authority
“Reduce generators to minimum confirm,”

“Confirm,” the chief engineer replied turning from his desk and jogging the short distance across the wide face of the magma pipes that pulled in not only raw heat but liquefied metals that the small foundry used in 3d printing to produce the often idiosyncratic devise the science team required.

At the main control board he began shutting down the secondary and tertiary feeds…

WHOOOP WHOOOP

“What the…” his assistant cried

“Pipe blockage Tertiary line…”

He turned back utterly perplexed “Where?”

She traced the flow indicator lights on the holo…

“right…right there…” she pointed to the 12 metre diameter pipe of Adamantium and high grade ceramic that took in raw magma.

As they shared a stunned look the side of the pipe began to turn orange with heat.

Wide eyed with astonishment he looked at the main control board – according to it there was no flow of magma…the temperatures registered only a relatively cool 741 degree kelvin….

“What in the Shavit storm seas…”

The orange turned yellow…then white…

Then black as the void as a hand wrenched the pipe open from within.

<<<<>>>>
>>>>Galtea - Nimati Plains - Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<
Merciless as it was comprehensive, Megamaser fire rained from orbit upon Camp Rhadde, home of the Cataphracts.

Vast shimmering shields of blue quivered with electrostatic howls, shockwaves stripped  trees outside the camps shielded radius of their needle leaves.

Master Gray Vilhynn Soban stood unmoved on the Ground he had chosen to be his Last as Istic Fortress, heart of Camp Rhadde, termed in muttered whispers among the Cataphracts ‘Nurhls Den’ shook at the intensity of the bombardment.

Inertial dampers built into the foundations ensured the vast fortress remained largely unmoved and he knew with absolute certainty the bombardment would do no real damage.

The Prizes that lay behind the Kortosis Door - carved elegantly into an image of two Cataphracts with crossed Zweihanders blocking further entrance - were of too great a value to the enemy to risk being damaged.

His HUD linked in to the Fortresses Defensive network showed exactly the sequence of events he had predicted. 

The Megamaser fire was concentrated around the Fortress, slowly overcoming the Geo-Shields capacity to resist.

How these Shadow had obtained Chiss technology didn’t matter, that it had taken several weeks to identify it as such though did.

That delay had caused thousands to die.  Even now the shields across the entire fleet and army were not capable of resisting the unique weapons forged in the Unknown Regions effectively, frequencies had been adjusted as much as possible, but the raw fact was the hardware was not up to the task of countering the kinetic impact the Chiss maser weapons delivered.

Shields broke after 3 minutes of sustained bombardment, the idle statistics showed it had taken 32 orbital impacts to break them.

Soban felt pride in the staff, the latest scenarios had suggested it could only take 25 hits, they had adapted and altered frequencies on the fly to gain precious seconds.

His heart near seized in grief at the reward that awaited them as he kept his eyes on a  live feed of the long range scanners, wondering if they would attack via aerial or ground transport.

Thirty more contacts flashed to life, digits barey keeping pace as they calculated the speed - each hurtling directly down from orbit at 250 kmph in a board ring about to slam into the domed training fields around Istic and…

By Vahl…. 

Ten were headed directly to the fortress!

If they were the same Oblivion rods unleashed on Vhal’Udhav in the opening salvos it would demolish the entire forretress, even the Vault Soban stood before would be at risk from the collapse of rubble.

If that is how I die… Soban knew this was his last day in this lifetime, content and calm.

With equal tranquility five Aethans closed in Orbital Insertion Pods fell to the surface at speeds that should kill them outright.

Istic fortress was too well defended to attack by air or ground, so they would crash directly through the roof from space.

Anit-aircraft fire blasted the oblivion rods easily enough, but with the aether to the Aethans were able to maneuver their Orbital Drop pods just in time.

With grinding scrapes of doonium on durasteels that burned orange and yellow the pods crashed through the upper levels of Istic fortress, gears of the ever changing corriors crumpling, traps detonating prematurely.

The vibrations echoing through his limbs Soban gripped his Zweihander Caladbolg for the last time, his knuckles white against skin artificially aged by his genetic condition - his blessing that had made him taller and more muscular than ny of his fellow Vahl - his curse that meant those same muscles and larger organs could barely be supported by bones and ligaments meant for a more lithe frame ageing them too quickly and leaving him in constant pain only relieved by the steady flow of anesthetic drugs built into his armour.


There was another rumble two dozen stories above, the mighty spires of Istic fortress now belching dust and smoke as the bombardment died down.  He could almost see the Orbital drop pods open to unleash the Oblivion hordes.

Biting back the endless bile caused by the pain suppressants digestive side effects he grimly stood his ground.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Lus’Phor - Nishalorite Veins<<<<

The universe seemed a tunnel with a single blue tinged face at one end, any object that blocked the image of Saani ‘Kaval for more than a moment was a mere impediment to be removed.

Aresaea was -to her ultra-focused mind - simply ‘walking forward’ toward her captured mother who bled pain in the aether. 

In reality she was navigating the seemingly endless twisting caverns of Lus’phors Nishalorite Vein, a vast section on the southern pole of the moon where Kyber crystals attuned to magnetic field were mined.

The galleries were carved as winding criss crossing labyrinths dictated by Force sages decades earlier who had plotted out how best to reach the Kyber deposits through the moons hard rock with minimal disturbance the large Kyber clusters, necessitating digging under, around and then over Kyber bodies to slowly pry pieces loose over he years.

Anson’s engineers had done what they could to secure the tunnels, but with limited time and resources the traps, kill zones and obstacles they had put in place were barely a consideration.

With detached clarity Ari tore a half tonne buffer stop on a formerly used mag-track with her mind leaving the soldiers scuttling out of their vanished cover snapping off blaster shots.  her purple sabes flew from her hands straight into them, spinning fast enough to appear solid discs of energy they sliced them down in seconds.

The handful of knights still at the location now J’Nessah Raanh and Pytir Danisen had left darted from rocky alcoves sabers blazing tremor swords vibrating.

With the fluidity of a glacial stream Ari spun into a crouch, her elbows and palms hammering into the Knights legs with femur shattering strength, her sabers returning to her hands through their shoulder and thigh joints leaving them aching and screaming on the ground.

Ari ran on, behind her Maekal finished off the petulant impure creatures with gleeful stomps, collecting more sabers for his budding collection.

Behind him were Karintha, Yorna and Lyaea, the five of them the nominal ‘rescue party’ for Saani, but Ari hardly needed any help.

They were here to support Valens in finishing off Anson D’Aklon and his Council of Maenowans then securing the stores of Kyber crystals on the moon before Ovarug’s cronies could hide them away - the perfidious Anzat - Karintha was certain - was hiding resources and artefacts from them.

<Take the route round to ensure Ari is not impeded> Karintha ordered the arrogant young male, Maekal wasted no time racing down a side gallery to clear it of any Vhal’Dan, his skills had markedly improved over the course of the war, even if his attitude hadn’t.

Yorna ran a hand along the chisel chipped walls of the dark caverns lit only by battery yellow lumens, feeling the presence of the crystals long since mined - and their potential.  Whilst Blackstone, Bloodstone and the other Ultradense minerals of Aethas were able to store far more Aether energies and better attuned to Aethan powers, Kyber crystals were drastically more plentiful in comparison and could provide a quantity of enchanted offensive and defensive tools their preferred materials could not.

With the Kyber stores, Holocron of Xinis’zo, and technology and research from Hephaestus base the People would have harvested enough riches in addition to the experience gained fighting Gray Jedi to make this expedition more profitable than even Dathomir, and continue her run of successes as Matriarch.

“This is sooooo easy,” Lyaea complained even as a hidden Silver leapt from above, without much effort she caught the wrist that held the saber, spun the Silver to the ground and with her dense bodies weight stomped the chest inward.

“Obviously a trap,”

Karintha had to agree, they had maneuvered around Ansonite patrols and landed without incident, they knew they would come for Saani.

“A trap become a pitched battle when you know it’s coming,” Karintha replied her eyes nver leaving Ari as they moved swiftly round another corner, the cold focus of the younger woman matched only by the fatality of the kinetic balsts she hurled into the chest of the handful of soldiers ahead, breaking them almost in half before they could raise weapons.
 

“He’s here….” Maekal interrupted thirty meters away drawing his blade from another body the Teidowan twitching still

“the Anathema himself!”

“Maekal no,” Yorna said quickly, only Valens and Jarys were to challenge D’Aklon or his Triarch Baz-Rhadde to single combat - the recent near defeats against the Cataphracts further validated that strategy.

Lyaea was less cautious tapping across on her HUD a new playlist for the arrogant young man

“Go get em Vorynx, no human is your equal,”

Whether her tone was sincere or sarcastic Karintha couldn’t tell and Makeal didn’t care as the stirring rhythm filled his senses through his helmet speakers.

“Yes...yes...we are the Princes -nay Gods of the Universe.” he rose fist clenched in an over dramatized stance of dominance

“I will slay the Tyrant-Fiend D’Aklon, avenge Areasaea and lay his skull before the beauteous Lady Evaea!”

With a shrug of more irritation that disappointment Karintha did not intervene to stop the arrogant young man rushing off. 

Ari ignored the whole scene.  She could feel Saani’s pain, the torment being inflicted, it was a blazing pyre that drew her forward. Her eyes briefly spun to Security camera hidden in a gap between a ceiling support and the rock. 

On the other side a woman more machine than flesh glared at her approach with a mix of rage and anticipation.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:51:36 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 3
Execution — 50 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
“Engineering report?” Jou glanced at the holo vision that showed the chief engineer and his assistant at their desks.

His leg near spasmed enough to make him tumble but fierce realisation of the imminent threat kept him upright.

“….A”

He looked down mouth stopped before he could utter a word, a thin blade blacker than the space between stars slipped out of his chest leaving a gluggy puddle of deep green Lymphatic fluids and speckled black with his Phindian oxygen carrying blood equivalent cells behind.

Now he fell…gazing into the bloody backs of two headless ensigns.

Evaea stepped over his corpse, her feet lithe and soundless as her brother delicately inserted the Datanode.

<Control Room secure> she informed the Group-Mind

<Begin.>

<<<<>>>>

There was darkness and terror.

Glistening Mirror Orbs based on Lucovis design and perfected with Dathomiri techniques were sent into labs and security posts beside Suppression orbs that soaked all light and sound using the Veil of Shadow technique. 

The first detonated small scale Terror Bombs plunging scientists, staff and security into convulsing nightmares. 

The latter orbs suppressed all light and sound to the point those who resisted the terror orb were bereft of almost all sensory input.

Each orb took an Aethan nearly a week to craft, in five minutes after taking the Control Room they used two thirds of the entire stock the People possessed as the three groups of three wound through each of the laboratory nodes linked to the central hub of Hephaestus base by long tunnels featuring quick lock down Blast Doors and mag rails.

There was heroism and resistance.

Dr. Ngo Buk, a Crolute refugee who had found a home on Galtea and spent the last thirty seven years studying and working to repay the opportunities he had been given, spending decades researching and developing new phase shielding technology.  Fighting out of the nightmare of reliving the slaughter of his shoal in the salt waters of Crul he scrambled to his station desperately inputting the deletion code to deny the enemy any of his lifetimes work.

The Incensed Shadow warrior managed to acquire only 47 per cent before removing every limb the creature had as punishment.

Silver Ren Choba and Professor En-Ki-Ra in Micro Engineering knew it would be fatal, but they had no choice. 

Unsealing the partially completed nanite Quantum-crystalline armour prototype.  Similar to the Prototype Dover-nanite armour provided to the Hamask Ksorallyne Apus, this was integrated with micro fragments of the Oblivion Blackstone used by the Shadows, painstakingly recovered from the Oblivion rod Bombardment craters and fragments scried among the ruins of the Vhal’Dan fleet.   

 En-Ki-Ra helped Ren Choba put it on. 

The nanites that comprised the main suit were held together by a simulacrum of the strong nuclear force generated by micro fields in the nanites core…the current means of creating the field produced gamma radiation at levels fatal to all known sentient life forms – they were yet to find an insulating material effective in microscopic quantities.

there is no death there is the Force

The light and hum of Choba’s saber lost to the Suppression Orb she fought with pure instinct chanting the code like a prayer against the darkness. 

Her blade hit something hard…something harder hit back but glanced off the armour.  Her stomach felt like it was melting.

En-Ki-Ra desperately fired a plasma cutter into the night until durasteel grips tore her arms from their sockets.

Choba fought on for nearly two minutes, the armour taking the Blackstone blades as she wrapped the force so tightly about her none of the telekinetic or lighting attacks could penetrate.

She died not from their blows but extreme gamma radiation poisoning. 

Even for genetically engineered bodies adapted to the extreme radiation of the deep core that fed their radio-synthesis cellular respiration the Aethans were forced to hurl the armour, body still within, back into the rad-shielded chamber as quickly as possible.

Veterans of previous wars made up the bulk of the 52 non Jedi soldiers stationed at Hephaestus base.  16 of them huddled to Gado healer Silver Goshurra who blocked out the Terror Bombs worst waves, their psychological resilience training doing the rest. 

Fortifying the central hub of the BioChemistry and Genetic Laboratory they unleashed disciplined fire wherever the Gado guided their minds with the Force. 

When an Oblivion arrow sliced the Silver’s lanky organ filled limbs to quivering shreds they fought on with plasma bayonet and vibro knife, a last stand hopeless as it was valiant against four Superhuman force users.

Before the last veteran had breathed their last the Aethan squad was called to intercept a large group of scientists being led out in the abyssal dark.

Among the researchers in Cyberwarfare were two Berrite researchers – short four legged and wrinkled skin bellied their intelligence and now crucially their natural sonar guiding rest of the scientists from that and the only remaining laboratory node as the last three of the twelve knights that had been in the base provided a protective cordon against the insipid tendrils of the terror orbs.

The Aethans had not anticipated a sonar ability in a species, a rare oversight that now cost them as prototype weapons taken out of storage and sealed chests were fired off down the straight line of the tunnels at them.

Running along the walls and ceiling they responded with shikkars and precision telekinetic blasts.  A Wave-pulse weapon of some kind managed to knock one of them from the right wall, a flechette weapons firing super-heated blobs forced two more to throw up heavy kinetic shields.

The knights could not assist, already barely standing under the weight of keeping the Terror Bombs knife like blades from their own minds.  Force lighting lanced like beams around the prototype null device three scientists pushed on a wheeled gurney irritating the Aethans further.

Inevitably they got within melee range, frustrated and furious.

Like so many of their comrades across Galtea the four knights learned what a frustrated Aethan could do to a tired Vhal’Dan.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<

 In addition to the Cataphracts who remained hidden in re-enforced tunnels were nine Aspirants and over two dozen Vhal’Dan regulars who sprung into action as the bombardment quieted, clambering up ruined sections to reach the drop pods and destroy them.

In their Heavy plate three Aspirants reached the first two pods just as the metal fronts blew open, two shadowed figures sweeping out at the speed of darkness.

In most respects identical to fully initiated Cataphracts, the Aspirants did not wear any seasoned legacy pieces of armour, only new manufactured suits - they lacked the Force Callous and Dover catalyst Force resistance of their superiors.

Aethans instantly recognised and punished this severely.

The first Triad was overwhelmed in seconds.

The ‘thin’ shadow warrior juggled a blazing blue fire katana and two maser pistols, ducking and weaving like a street fighter in and around the Aspirants.  where their more cautious Zweihander forms managed to catch him out the Second Shadow - the ‘thick’ one bashed them back with incredible strength, any attempt to down him met with indifferent parries.

The Pirate and the Shepherd had come far - one a disobedient, traumatized freebooter, the other the cybernetic pawn of a Black Sun Vigo mentally suppressed by neuro-anesthetic drugs.   

Now they were Warriors of the People, Taryn as quick as he was unpredictable, Lydan tough as he was relentless.

Re-enforced the Aspirants struck hard as the could, the already damaged section of the Fortress erupting in horizontal blizzards of laser and micro missile fire, the air thick with dust and vaporized metal, the endless crunch of boots on rubble broken by the crackle of Force Lighting pouring from Aethan finger tips that crackled into armour joints and boiled skin and muscles sending aspirants tumbling or seizing up.

The second ‘landing zone’ unleashed three more Shadow Warriors moments before the Aspirants arrived  Jarys, Kiraea, and Melron needed little time to crush the would be Cataphracts.

One Aspirant was simply packed into a ball a third of his normal volume by Kiraea’s vindictive kinetic hate, another had his head cleaved in a single stroke by Jarys swift and strong blade, a third shouldered to the ground by the Old Man who viciously stomped the chest with shatterpoint energy till it cracked and burst his organs out of the seams.

The Vhal’Dan fought, and like so many of their fellows over the last months, died impotently cursing the Shadow Warriors.

Nurhl felt every death, his jaws suppressing a growl as he waited trusting the Force and the Kage’s plan.

Our forces will put up a strong fight…but they will lose…then, when our enemies are fatigued and lazy in victory and theft…your Cataphracts will strike  the Kages words repeated like a soothing mantra in his mind over and over.

Resistance slowed, the last of the aspirants nobly stood against Taryn and Lydan, blue zweihanders swiping as they circled with confidence, before Taryn feinted and Lydna’s Naginata swept the Aspirants feet from his legs, the indifference of the follow up telekinetic neck snap an insult to the Aspirants efforts.

The Aethan force strode through the rubble into the mid levels of the Fortress that were still largely intact, brushing past sparking severed power cables and gasping ventilation tubes.

“Find the Vaults,” Kiraea ordered the younger men as her Aetheric sight from one Miraluka heritage fixed on the pulsing beacon of the Holocron of Xinis’zo they had come to claim.

“We’ll get the Holocron,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:53:55 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 4
Anticipation — 45 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
The waves died down. The Resistance was over.  Hephaestus' base had fallen.

The pill was bitter, Ravra Påx Crion Master Gray and Primus of Triad Esk felt sick, her Triad, Rana and Rena, Barabel twins beside her in the cramped emergency escape tunnel responded through their meld with grim determination and an understanding that for the brood to survive some must die.

Ravra knew this, but it did not make it easy.  She had a litter mother’s compassion, a strength to balance the more…reptilian Darwinism of her Triad, a perfect combination in to choose when to save the one and when to focus on the many.

After insertion through the escape hangar the Tribi positioned mid way through the tunnels that lead to the base proper.  In the dark backs pressed against the exposed cables and damp of the rock beneath the frozen seas they senses the tremors in the Force above them.

It made the Cathar woman angry, gave her focus.  But the Tribus needed balance or the tension might cause the battle meld that even now flowed like silver through their minds to become brittle with anxiety.

Ravra provided it thinking on Midge.

Woe to the Shadow Warrior that has to face a Wookie Cataphract with short sentient syndrome in a rage… Ravra added through the meld to the rest of the nine members of her Tribus.

Rana and Rena suppressed hissing laughter, the ‘diminutive’ Wookie Silver Knight Ostooloruu Wuurich, Primus of Triad Herf, was curmudgeonly at the best of times, this waiting and inaction as others died would set him feral…

Midge’s rages were a running joke even he participated in, none of them were small, physical requirements for becoming a Cataphract such he could not be anything but the burly solid Wookie he was, but compared to others of his species he was below average, giving him an above average chip on his shoulder.

The levity allayed the tension for a moment, Ravra’s motherly instinct to keep the peace and promote calm among the Troika had seen her take the unofficial role of Clan mother.

<Move up to the entrance, prepare> Ya’Qul of Triad Besh instruction seeped into their minds like mercury, the consummate professional always quick to the point.

His own Triad moving silently through the ever more narrow tunnels.  These had been designed for emergency escape now used for insertion.

His armour scraped along the edges, the ancient plate had a recent matt finish applied along with other enhancements from the Vhal’Dan Sages to increase the armours innate resistance to Force attacks built over centuries and enhanced by the Kewda harvested Dover Catalyst – dampening if not eliminate Force Lighting and Fire the Shadows used with shocking intensity/

Pressing right up to the concealed door he did not open it, but took a breaching charge from a pouch – placing it on the door way, the micro-thermal detonator on the ring shaped charge would devastate anyone on the other side.

The mission was first to eliminate the Shadows, or at least ensure they did not acquire anything of value, if it meant destroying the research then that was a price the Kage was willing to pay.

The mag clamped locked and the charge beeped ready.  The Tribus battle meld was poised to strike.

<In Three…>

<<<<>>>

>>>>Lus’Phor - Nishalorite Veins<<<<
“Do you think the Kage is going to face their Leader? Without us I mean. The Kage is tough, no doubt, still  Seems to me the Kage should have a Tribus with him at all times…”

The incessant chatter of Secundus Koawan Kamrdes Henslou, the Togruta scout and sniper of Triad Jenth incongruously with his deathly silence once the battle began. 

“The Kage is with the Collegium,” Chimi-Mal-wel Primus of Triad Cresh replied more than happy to take up the conversation - Corellians Primus Alfalex near sighed. The Collegium was an anachronism giving power to shadow lurkers like Speakers J’Nessah Raanh and Pytir Danisen, disgraceful career politicians who would be excess weight in the super-compact core of a Maw Black hole.

A single strong ruler was needed, everyone else submitting to the appropriate chain of command emanating from this central delegator, a being who understood that defence and war was the critical function of the State.  A man like Kage D’Aklon.

“Come on Alfa the Collegium are not all that bad,” Chimi quipped, sensing his silent brooding.  The tall Corellian raised in the scums of that world notorious for its ill disciplined pilots and crews was the very antithesis of the rigid Cathar Primus, a fact reflected in their Triads differing tactical styles.

“They’ll make perfect sport for the Shadows, lots of practise running and hiding,” Koawan Kylista Jachowa, Secundus of Cresh noted dryly, the never healed pink burn scars from a coaxium explosion that marred her olive toned face glistening in the artificial light - her dour tone forgivable for any who knew what she had suffered being ‘patched up’ without anesthetic after the explosion by a Corellian Ripper-Doc.

Koawan Darjor Enn, Tertius of Triad Cresh - to Alfa at least - ‘Lil Nern’ to his Triad - merely grunted a half chuckle at the thought of Pytir thrown by his viper wife J’nessa, fins flailing in front of the Shadows - a mental image shared by Kylista through the Corellians bond.

All three Corellian ‘Creshers’ had been saved from the gutter of Corellia by Vilhynn Soban - while a mentor to many none were taken so closely under his wing than those three, like a father and three children, hence ‘Little Nern’ - Little Brother despite Darjors 2 meter height.

“I thought we were here to stop them getting to the Collegium and the Kage…” Henslou continued to muse even as he scanned through CCTV feeds for any movement, leaning against the natural wall of the crystal cave.

Tertius of Jenth Luucadri ah-Marq simply kept an eye on the body language of all his comrades, even stymied by the bulk of Cataphract armour his tuned native skill could see dispositions behind the words.

The ‘Clergy’ of Triad Isk lead by Qaman’Xa were in a small circle Mediating, focus absolute though exactly what metaphysical abilities they were preparing al-Marq couldn’t tell, the posture of the Kel-Dor Bol-Nos and
 appeared confident. He never bothered trying to work out the Aing’Tii Qaman’Xa anymore.

Alfa and Kylista seemed reserved but eager for the fight, their postures forward and eyes constantly seeking the entrance ways for motion. 

Henslou was nervous, he’d lost a number of friends to the Shadows in their first brutal attacks - though given his jovial disposition and generosity in buying drinks - everyone was Henslou’s friend - it would not affect his performance, still the former Blademaster candidate didn’t relish facing the Shadows.

Chimi was calm, for her it was all part of the Conscious Living Force Plan - her syncretic belief that mingled Force Spiritualism with Maker-Monotheism - perhaps the only way she could rationalise the vast change in her life from scumrat to Cataphract.

As for ah-Marq himself...he was curious - he wanted to see if he could read the Shadow warriors more than the brief glances allowed - really understand them - other Vhal’Dan had tried, certainly the Strategists in the general staff spent countless hours analysing their actions, but to understand an enemy the Lorrdian knew you had to see them, face to face.

What excited and terrified Al-Marq was just what would he see behind those Oblivion masks?

“Partially,” Alfa addressed Henslou’s query

“But based on all tactical analysis there is no way to avoid a confrontation, the Shadows have proven too creative and resilient, they will reach the Kage and Collegium - it is only a matter of time. The Kage however has made sure that occurs at a time and place of his choosing,” The Cathars voice full of a belief in D’Aklon that bordered on hero worship and radiated in his stance.

“I think that time is coming soon…” Lil’Nern whispered blue eyes narrowing down the far corridor seeing beyond sight, locking his helmet on the room seemed to dim as his blonde hair and beard were obscured.

Alfa was quickly up, tactical pattern Aurek-4 scrolled across Marq’s screen along with wayfinders, the Cathars precision positioning leaving nothing to chance.

A blue aura of light began to glow around the Clergy that radiated serenity and calm.

“Get ready to Corellian Cresh Crash the Party,” Chimi jibed in stark contrast.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<
Eyeless sight witnessed after images of students and masters through the undercroft of the Librarium Sapientia.   Koawan Alulat Kabdhilinan sat in the chill empty rows of cabinets on gliding mag sleds in their hundreds still slightly swaying from the orbital bombardment.

The Miralukan ‘looked’ through the durasteel bar wrapped around his face, the  ancient Steel taken from the hallowed, and cursed, world of Katarr, a Miralukan colony decimated by a Sith Lord.  On pilgrimage in his youth he took the shard as a constant reminder of horrors war and insatiable desire could bring and a potent artefact enhancing his near future flashes.


The tall armored figure of Koawan Eirtaé Vor-Rue strode through the opening between heavy compactors, most completely divested of their contents in anticipation of the attack.

The charcoal skinned dark haired Yashuvi - a near human race with strong shamanistic force traditions - Eirtae- scryed a different layer of reality.  Alulat saw past and future, Eirtae saw the physical and metaphysical now more deeply, strands of energy and pockets of existence few could comprehend. 

The third member of Triad Qek, Maenowan Agemean Villados stood silent sentinel over them both.  They were the Triads Vision of the now, then and soon, combined into the battle-meld with herself acting as an intersection to achieve unparalleled acuity.

“Anything, handsome?” She asked the Miraluka as the Yashuvi wandered following paths Villados only saw when deep in the meld.

Alulat sighed at the jibe, he was, from what those with electro-magnetic spectrum sight told him, handsome.  Such physical beauty he could not see was of little matter, the joke stuck nonetheless.

“A shadow, growing at the edge of my vision...they are coming...if slowly...cautious perhaps…”

A handful of Vhal’dan had developed an ability to sense the Shadows, a sickly hollow thing to Primus Villados gut that seemed gritty and earthy - risen from the soil with as much sentience as an animal.

Alulat’s micro-flashes rarely extended beyond a minute into the future, a tactical advantage in a fight, but rarely enough to lay a comprehensive trap.

“Helms on,” Villados ordered, sweeping her red hair back into its usual tight bun and grasping her cataphract helm.  In the eye lens she saw her reflection, her clan’s qukuuf of a thunderbird on her forehead and two small "wings" below each of her brown eyes marking her ancestry as a Kiffar proudly.   

She oft thought Triad Qek a perfect reflection of the Vhal’dan, three different cultures, three different talents - her own in psychometry common among her people, brought together in a positive synergy.

Eirtae paused at the one cabinet in which an item of power still resided, gentle teal waves spun about the non-Euclidean ‘nonahedron’ that was weighty on the metaphysical plane and troubling to look at visually in how it seemed to warp dimensions.

The Holocron of Xinis-zo was unique as the Aing-Tii himself, the first of the species to join the Vhal’Dan  centuries before, his reason for leaving the Kathol Rift sacred to his species obscure as the lessons he had given. The only certainty was his incredible wisdom and ability to comprehend multiple layers of reality. 

Xinis’zo was the ancestor, or possibly mentor - the nature of Aing-Tii familial and personal relations remaining mysterious - of Varel-zo the far more well known master of the Vhal’Dan, and master of the True Kage Anson D’aklay. 

The Kage had given Nurhl this holocron knowing the Shadows would come for it, knowing the sacrifices of lives.

A shadow fell and darkened all the realms Eirtae could see, Alulat stiffened and rose from his kneeling position.

Villados locked her helm in place, the HUD flickering on showing all systems on her Cataphract armour nominal, her hand falling the hilt of her Beskar Breaker - the venerable Balmung, a blade that had taken the heads of a dozen sith on Ruusan and responded to her innate psychometry with memories of victory and a thrumming desire to engage once more the enemies of the Vhal’dan.

It would soon have it’s chance.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:54:26 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 5
>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
“Three aint it?” Jenaea crouched staring into the black whorls of the Givin Yandar Huhl’s eyes.

“The special answer to your mathematical greeting nerfshell,”

Doctor Huhl, administrator and Chief Science office of Hephaestus base made no reply, Jenaea slapped the pallid white face.

Yielding no reaction she stood checking the surroundings again, her impeccable danger sense quieted for now. 

They had brought the 32 surviving scientists – the guards, knights and support workers all eliminated – to the atrium in the Central hub for mind delving.  There had been 98 scientists, some died in the crossfire, more were left brain dead by the Terror Orbs and put out of their misery.

The Mirror like Terror Orbs and Light Eating Shadow Orbs were placed in a sealed chest, their energy utterly spent in the first wave.  Kassyndra now unclasped the second chest, full of Memory Orbs to extract the scientist’s memories twelve at a time.  They had only twenty four such orbs across all their forces, the commitment was vast, but the payoff would be great. 

They had secured valuable prototypes, art, artefacts and research pillaging as they retook Galtea for Kazic - but Hephaestus base offered far more.

Huhl tried to remain calm, but her mind was still reeling from experiencing what seemed like weeks of terrifying visions of being tortured…she knew it was only a Force based hallucination…but still…

“Here’s the deal, dingbats!” Jenaea declared loudly sitting on a large retaining wall, a cluster of weeping Orlon trees behind her beneath the artificial lights of the high ceiling.

“You play nice and keep your mind open and this will all be over in a few minutes...try and fight it…well if you thought those first dreams were bad….”

Huhl glanced around the other bound and gagged prisoners, she knew all these beings, she did not doubt their loyalty or desire to resist for an instant…but many were still lolling barely coherent…they could not resist if they wanted to.

Kassyndra brought the first orbs before the frontline of Scientists, the most senior and able would be drained first, their knowledge would strengthen the People greatly, she rejoiced in setting the pre-enchanted orbs to assault their minds one by one.

Evaea remained in the shadows nearby.

She had been placed in charge of this operation with a force of seven, and was determined to atone for her failure against the Triarch.

The first scientists being drained she issued instructions for her team to sweep the rest of the base for more valuable tech and prototypes.

Taran, Maeson and Evyn would focus on Biochemistry and Genetics, Jenaea and Kassyndra on Robotics and Nanotechnology, Adaea working her magic downloading data files by the terabyte from the servers in the Cyber warfare division.

She glanced across the vast room full of plants and water features, small stalls for food and tables for dining where the scientist once spent their off time to the mag rail station where the locations were listed.

She checked the HUD chrono - already they had plundered the Polymer labs and Synthetic materials divisions, but were behind schedule, resistance had been high, encryptions on drives strong.  And something else…

<Jenaea, Kassyndra…do you sense anything off…> the firsts danger sense built on avoiding a slave masters whip, and the latter's seior arts were valuable assets in avoiding conflict.

The last of the first twelve scientists collapsed, their memories draining into the orbs as Kassyndra sent her mind forward…there was…jagged tears in the immediate future…the image had been, however clumsily distorted.

Jenaea too began to feel a tingle of cold that had nothing to do with the compressed arctic temperatures of the sea around them.

<Something...from below…>

Evaea needed no more warning.

<<<<>>>>

The sealed blue white medical hatch hissed open, Taran untwining the cables of the auto slicer form where he had torn the panel from the door controls.

It was hard to remember and learn things, but he was improving, so long as his connection to the others remained intact he could draw on their memories.

Already behind two check points and three blast doors, this was the most secure of the Biochemsitry and Genetics work areas.

Maeson and Evyn were bulk slicing and copying data from every workstation, projects such as non-bacta based rapid tissue regeneration patches, enhanced cybernetic grafting, neuro suppressive micro virus gases and an exponential growth low water required nutro-algae for producing basic victuals in even the most arid of environments, and possibly most valuable neuro-nanite quantum entanglement connection systems used by the Hamask Ari had defeated.

Before him were two banks of workbenches, large inset advanced microscopes, state of the art needle like Cellular slicing and assembly arms behind plasteel containment shields, centrifuges and refrigerators along the walls…and at the far end three large biostasis tubes filled with bubbling clear bacta.

In the first was a fist sized embryo, the second a 40 centimetre long underdeveloped infant, and in the third a hideous malformed child, the height of a four or five year old but still with the chubbiness of an infant.

<Evyn in here…this is unusual…> 

The younger man was there in an instant moving to the computers, Taran inserting the slicer into the universal port, Adaea and Evyn’s latest hacking tool working rapidly in combination with his own fingers on the keyboard and touch pad overriding Vhal’Dan lockout systems and anti-malware.

The older Aethan drew heavily on Evyns memories to keep focused, his frustrating inability to solidify new memories a constant pest through the war. 

Finally the scrolling basic code was replaced with the actual scientists work folders.  In the space of seconds he opened dozens of files on three levels of consciousness absorbing the information then cross referencing with what Evyn was reading across the room for another console.

It was a log of genetic analysis upon an advanced and highly complex organism…the sequence was reconstructed not from the actual source but from…

Hair sample - obtained University of Vhal’Uhladv 22/14
Hair Sample – obtained Cir-Lan Macias Memorial Training salle 21/17
Skin Sample – obtained Cir-Lan Macias Memorial Training salle 28/19
Blood Sample – obtained Vhal’Uhldav Residential Tower 55-B sewerage line 547th floor 1/22
….


There were dozens more, he frantically passed through reports detailing analysis of the gene sample, efforts to fully reconstruct it, internal holo-mails where the scientists wondered what they were trying to achieve, replies from the Arbiter that it was critical to the defence of the Galtea and reminders of their Oaths, Advanced Gene growth models and predictive software, more holomails frustration they could not determine the purpose of long sequences of the helix asking for additional samples…none were available, insistence from the Arbiter they progress…the only option was to use what they had to produce more via cloning…

Finally he found the earliest records, the only ones that recorded the Genetic Templates names.

His fists clenched, Aertemisin flooded his body in rage that as a Guardian he knew only too well how to use.

Progenitor/Template: Areasea K’aval

Eyes burning with aetheric energy he looked again at the abominable creatures in the bio-stasis tubes, mentally blank, malformed attempts to replicate the perfection of an Aethan woman.

Righteous Fury tensed his muscles, he felt the deep instinctual need to Punish someone or something for this sacrilege….

He didn’t have long to wait.

Before he could unleash his rage on the abominations the wall beside Evyn exploded outward.

Bursting through the crack Ostooloruu Wuurich roared barely coherent oaths to drag his enemies to the Shadow Lands of Kashyyyk as booted feet smashed into the medical white tiled floors.

Taran screamed in primal fury at the repeated violations of Aresaea the debris and flame wafting off his oblivion armour. 

Neither even paused to assess the enemy before leaping.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:55:49 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 6
Engagement — 40 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<

(https://i.ibb.co/MpK2kdC/Ob-Gray-Hephaestus.png) (https://ibb.co/NpfV2Ry)

Micro missiles burst off Wuurich’s back exploding in the air as they hit telekinetic punches Taran peppered the air with, those that missed bounced off the legacy armour as beam lasers from Wuurich gauntlets were soaked by Taran’s energy absorption ability and fleck back to him as lighting.

In the midst of blue arcs and red lasers the two enormous bodies crashed into each other.  Their roughly equal masses and velocity slammed together in a shockwave that buffeted the cataphracts breaching to the sides.

Each was astounded the other did not fall, so used to being far heavier than most opponents – Wuurich, or Midge, might be short - for a Wookie - but his burly frame was encased in storied Cataphract armour nearly doubled his weight.

Almost bouncing off each other they each grasped their blade, Midge Zweihander a treasured relic since the New Sith Wars burnt an azure inferno from the cortosis-beskar alloy hilt, the vast size of the blade had intimidated many a foe. 

Taran, shorter but abyssal black sword for a brief moment had that exact effect on Midge – he had read the briefings, seen the picts, but to see it now swinging in a whirlwind over the Shadow Armoured monsters head was something to behold. 

Midge relished the challenge.

The Zweihander slashed up with all his fresh strength as Taran’s momentum building twirl slashed straight down.

The clash of blades was near cataclysmic on both their shoulders and elbows, genetic design and power armour micro stabilisers only just able to compensate for the enormity of the force ratcheting back through their frames.

The initial breach had been right beside Evyn, his armour took the bulk of the shock, and even as he was thrust back he was dipping into the Veil of Shadow.  While Taran and an enormous armoured being that smelled of Wookie brutalized each other Evyn slid round behind the two tanks of power armour that had accompanied the Wookie. 

Evyn had one shot before detection – he positioned himself just within reach of both them and struck.

His right hand sword’s Phase enchantment activated with a burst of the aether, the pulse too strong to hide,  his left hand held his Hades Rifle right up to the small of the Cataphracts back where his eidetic memory had records was where the main power system was located.

They pivoted sensing the aether use as the blade transitioned for 0.0002 seconds out of phase with the Baryonic universe into pure Aetheric energy and penetrated straight through the Cataphract armour into the spine behind as he fired Hades rifle into the others back.

Success was mitigated – sword cut through less deeply than hoped, the rifle shots stymied by ablatve plating - Dover Catalyst in both cases filling the void.

Silver Knight Arrbis felt a blinding sting in his spine, a cut that felt as if ripped into the fabric of his soul and was now bleeding the Force.

Koawan Inji HUD went haywire as primary power was lost, secondary batteries kicking in and impacts on his back staggered his footing.

Both warriors spun Zweihanders ablaze - Teal and Red to strike at the source of the attack that now appeared like phantom despite the retching damage they had just taken.

Evyn avoided the first unsteady blows quickly dancing across the work benches as they pursued gaining confidence and momentum as he fired his rifle and hurled refrigerators and microscopes into their path leaving a trail of destruction added to every time a Zweihander blow missed him by millimetres.

Taran and Midge wrestled in the unrelenting, almost sacrosanct, tradition of single combat, the Wookie interspersing blade work with telekinetic hammers and micro tugs that the Oblivion Armour ate when Taran didn’t avoid them directly.

Between each thrust or slash Taran burst lighting from his body, the Cataphract armour repelling half the energy and taking superficial damage from the rest.

Less than a minute since the breach they had traded three dozen blows of blade on sabre, ricochet thundering through their bodies, the tremors reverberating when the other scored one of the half dozen armour compromising hits.

Taran sought out the shatterpoint lines near where he had cut looking to inflict a larger breach then noticing in the cracked aetheric vision his Claymore was now replete with micro fractures.

Midge hammered down, darting his vibro knife into the mix, the blade turned to molten slag by his opponents pulsing lighting shield mid air. The Wookies HUD indicated power amrour micro-motors were overloaded or non-functional, his Zweihanders battery down to 60 percent capacity forced to increase power to match the Blackstone Claymore.

They ground each other down without resolution, the once pristine organised work desks and high end medical machinery now a waste land of lighting scorched telekinesis flattened wreckage. 

Inji and Arrbis pursued the Evyn through the large doorway to the main Lab, never relenting streams of laser fire, launching their last micro missiles.

Evyn’s precision shots from his rifle targeted their armour joints, Hades bolts heating and slowing their movement as he lured them to Maeson.

The older Aethans Hades repeater unleashed from behind cover - faster lower impact phirk projectiles set Zewihanders sizzling, deflecting the shots as Arrbis felt himself slip toward fainting from the Phase blades Soul cut.  Inji knew his comrade would not last long.

Nor would Midge, 80 seconds of fighting and his arms were weighty with lactic acid, knowing the Shadows endurance was beyond a seasoned knight and where they didn’t kill instantly they ground their enemies to the dust.

Evyn spun back as Maesons fire forced the Catpahracts into cover, two onto one they would soon decimate them. 

Taran sensed his enemy weakening, parries barely deflecting his blows.  Evyn closed back in teleport shunting like a phantom between the Cataphract shots, positioning to point blank blast the already sizzling and dented cataphract armour.

88 seconds, all the stubbornness a grouchy Wookie could muster hammered into Taran’s sword, the impact shattering the Blackstone Claymore with a burst of aetheric blue, the top third cracking off as the Wookie Howled. 

Taran sent the fragments telekinetically at his enemies joints as the walls between the main blast doors to the clone and main labs burst apart.

A toothy predatory grin  spread on Midge's face.

90 seconds - Triad Besh arrived.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<
Maser shots rang off the pulsing silver zweihander blade as Taryn rushed forward, katana twirling leaving a trail of aetheric flame before crashing on a solid guard.
 
They moved through six clashes each doubling in intensity as they sounded the other before the final crushing twist sent Taryn skidding across the floor for the second time in as many minutes.
 
“So that's how it’s gonna be...” he sniffed, hopping straight up for another round, this time skirting the edges of the long corridor that led to the unyielding Vault deep beneath Istic Fortress where the most precious of the Cataphracts relics were housed.
 
Master Gray Vilhynn Soban could not fault his opponents persistence, nor skill, but the attempted flank attack ended the same way - Taryn half a corridor away clutching his stomach, Soban once more impressed the boy had - however narrowly - avoided a fatal blow.
 
Jumping up undaunted, Taryn punched the air and danced like a boxer, the young Aethan wondering why the Cataphract didn’t follow up. 
“Just getting started Big Show, youth and speed...”
 
“Are no match for experience and treachery” Melron interjected, coming through the ruined ceiling Taryn had collapsed to reach the Vault.
 
Melron stared at Soban for a moment before speaking.
 
“Join the others son, I’ll handle this”
 
Taryn had finally learned when not to argue with his elders.

“Alright yeah” the pirate pointed to Soban
“You got lucky this time Big Show”

“Kids”, Melron sighed, opening himself for his opponent to see.

Soban couldn't suppress a grin as he felt out the man striding toward him - a warrior who had seen his world destroyed, beliefs upturned and spent decades after fighting himself in denial and defeat before finally mastering his emotions.
 
A man Soban could respect and empathize with. 
 
“You’ve already decided this is your last day” Melron stated feeling out Soban in turn.
 
“We'll both die well against a worthy foe, having no regrets,” Soban replied, firming his stance and honouring his last foe with a salute raising his silver saber that stood in contrast to the onyx inlay of the corridor leading to the Vaults.

Subtly he also used the blink control on his HUD to administer another dose anaesthetics, stimulants and solvents intravenously to deaden the pain of his aching limbs, replace consumed catalyst proteins and clear cellular waste faster than his body naturally could. 

It was no panacea, he had been unable to follow up on the younger man and finish him due to the pain, but it was enough to keep him upright and partially mobile - for now - enough to fulfil his mission -  Protect the Vault. 

Here he stood, and here he would die, the only question was how many Shadow Warriors he could drag down with him.

In response to Soban’s salute Melron nodded as respectfully as an Aethan could toward an Outsider, firming his grip on his oblivion blade.

“Die well, Vhal'dan”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:56:40 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 7
>>>>Lus’Phor - Nishalorite Veins<<<<
<Anything of note?> Karintha asked her niece.  Yorna’s ebullient curiosity for all things manifested in heightened observational skills.

<Only the echoes of the mining of the crystals...no one has passed through here since then - that I can sense>

Ari ahead remained resolute, forward past crates full of blank Kyber in storage bay 13-Besh - the crystals a glassy sense in the aether they spun between columns, crouched in hollows and crawled along ceilings using light suppressing aether blasts.

<Saani is close…> Ari said as they paused at the blocky hazard striped doors to exit Storage Bay 13-Besh and enter Gallery 13-Zorn.
<Through there…>

They had sought a ‘back door’ to where her mother was held , avoiding Ansons forces occupying the higher levels of the mines.

Suits powered down, force presence suppressed to the tiniest points, the Cataphracts felt the first electric shudders of their danger sense.

No traps or barriers beyond the mine's standard locks the Aethan women entered cautiously into the large natural chamber, shimmering Kyber locked in insulated crate all they could sense.

<Looks like they made off with half> Yorna concluded scanning the room

<Perhaps they didn’t have room, or time to take any more>   

Given the devastation they had wrought on Anson’s forces, and his mustering in another sector of the moon it was plausible.

Still Karintha tried swept for more details yet the ubiquitous Kyber was all she could sense clearly, the aether bouncing off the crystals causing her mind's eye to ‘squint’.

It was why they had chosen this location for the Ambush - Alfa began the countdown

Three
Yorna saw in the rock dust an oversized footprint
Two
The strata on a patch of the rocky exposed cavern wall seemed to Karintha too straight.
One
Without delay from behind that illusionary wall Secundus Henslou fired with deadly precision.

Three Hardened Diamond rounds spun with a muffled puff from his sniper rifles straight at a Shadow Warriors head.

Lyaea snapped back, one shot missed, one grazed -  the last ground into the Blackstone, through cushioning and under layers, boring into the side of her skull.

As Lya dropped, Lil’Nerns Turbo laser opened up on Yorna, an endless stream of blazing fire at 100 rounds per second, the first dozen sunk into her torso flash burning near air and turning the blackstone a ruddy heated red as she teleported shunted away - Straight into the Corellian Cresh Crash.

From both flanks Chimi and Kylista burst in a flurry of beskar-breaker heavy Ataru lunging swipes and micro missiles while Lil’Nern advanced his cannon never stopping - chewing the far wall to bubbling shreds of melted rock.

Karintha quickly summoned her potent powers in Malacia and Illusion, the red energy building primed to disorient and poison the enemy when a shard of pure white metaphysical glass lanced her mind.

Qaman’xa was hovering in the air over her Triad, the Clergy’s mental focus on denying the witch as they advanced.

Ari ignited her sabers spinning into Bol-Nos and Ngyys micro missiles and laser fire as she tried to reach the fallen Lyaea.

Shock and surprise were not in Aethan emotional range, the instead the reached the limits of their roughly equivalent sense of ‘novelty’ as Yorna scrambled to avid cannon and zweihanders, incredible dexterity pulling her bow, telekinetic coordination sending shikkars at the Cataphracts.

The glass blades even with a hardening enchantment shattered against the heavy armour, Oblivion arrows punctured but got stuck in the Force Calloused plate.
Lil’nern took three of the black arrows, one bounced of ablative plasma, one cutting through to shoulder and shallow into the muscle, the third into his chest plate came perilously close to his heart before it lost momentum.

Chimi and Kylista reached Yorna as she pulled her sword, blackstone blade burning blue with her families fire enchantments to smash into the hell red of Chimi’s blade, Kylista swept in from beneath to hack at her legs.

Alfa rushed to finish Lyaea, zweihander blazing to sever the head as Honslou fired round after round into the fallen Aethans body to keep her down,  al-Marq skirted the edges observing the body closely...something was not right about it...

“ILLUSION” his voice untied with his will pounding through the Triads battle meld, Alfa pivoting at the last second to catch Ari’s purple sabers against his blue blade - Qaman’Xa’s focus completely on countering Karintha, Ari’s illusion of Lyaea’s body had succeeded long enough for her to get up. His blades locked Alfa missed the second of the Lyaea’s short sword plunge under his guard and up into the gap between chest piece and gorget.

Lyaea pushed the blade deep and fuelled it with her pain.  The diamond bullet was in her skull, just poking into her Parietal lobe before she could arrest its momentum with the aether leaving her woozy..

Alfa grunted as he felt the blade scratch his furred chest and hammered a force push to send Lyaea sprawling, al-Marq straight onto her.

Karintha staggered eyes blazing hate at the levitating Primus of Triad Isk.
<Stone Skinned Mage> she growled telepathically as red energy flared around her
<Witch-Matriarch> the Aing-Tii replied

The Matriarch drew her sword and half flew through the air at the Aing-Tii, daggers and grenades flying in advance, dismissively cast aside by Qaman’Xa.

In mid air Matriarch and Maenowan clashed in a battle of mettle and mind.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:57:11 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 8
Engagement — 35 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<
The orb on her hip thrummed as it got ever closer to the linked source.

They wove quickly and quietly through the abandoned corridors in the wide midsection of Istic fortress just above where foundations reached into the deep rock of the mesa it was built upon.

There was no damage from their forceful entry here, and with the last protectors gone and Ansons’ forces on Lus’phor the only resistance were the handful of painfully slow - for Aethan neurology and reflexes - traps.

Shifting corridors had impeded them for a time, but Maser and Jarys shoulder tackles cleared many of these, the petty outsiders' durasteel pliable as reeds for Aethan genehanced strength. 

While Frellick-Face Kazic had agreed to handover whatever they wished after the war, neither she, Karintha nor Valens trusted him to do so - the most valuable items were held by the enemy.  So she had to take them herself.

Jarys just behind paused pressed against a doorway.  They could not sense traps or ambushes, the Cataprhacts dealt with so far were the dregs of their order after Taryn's space raid had wiped the bulk out.

She was growing bored with stalking around and terrifying little Koawans and petulant Maenowans before placing quiet blades through their necks or equivalent physiological structures. 

Perhaps she was getting more mature as Karintha kept teasing…

No - they were being boring.

Jarys signalled with two fingers to proceed, his armour still bearing a damaged look despite recent repairs.

Sweeping through the shadowed alcoves the orb’s pull intensified - programmed by acquiring a sample of the Xinis-zo’s stone like skin from his Ruusan memorial Crypt to seek his holocron.

Vast statues controfted them, they smelt of Kortosis, and flanked a door where mercury-like images of Catpahracts being all noble and glorious blah blah blah formed and reformed.  With a petulant sneer Kiraea kicked the door open.

There, in the darkened centre of the Seclusiam Nurhl Båz-Rhadde was surrounded by the hallowed gazes of Triarchs past, his armour polished bronze, arm mounted gattling lasers glimmering in the dim faux-candle light.

The Triarch of the Cataphracts stood in a pose that perfectly mirrored the statue of his ancestor Saril Båz-Rhadde behind him - both held Durandal in an unyielding pose of defiance and conviction, the same Lion engraved upon both Cathar’s breast plates and right pauldrons centuries apart.

“The Lion.” Jarys growled behind her, enraged and impressed that the Triarch had fooled them.

“The Beast.” Nurhl snarled back

Roaring, crackling sparks of electricity into the wall, and quaking the ground  as if a magnetic storm of Ponemah had been unleashed, Lion and Beast charged forward.

Nurhl exploded the full power of his gatling cannons, shoulders ricocheting back into the joints, Jarys one handed rifle shots sent maser blasts that incredibly hit the gattline laser fire mid air resulting in micro plasma storms as the pure energy bolts combined.

Kiraea swiftly spun with her acrobatic skill to round on the Trairch and end the filthy ‘Noble’ Cathar once and for all - powerful though Rhadde was, he would be no match for Two Guardians at once.

Nurhl knew this. He had planned for it. 

As his thumb brought golden life to Durandal the Triarchs eyes blinked an icon on his HUD bringing detonating explosives embedded in the floor, ruining the artisan carved granite but blasting it from under Kiraea’s feet just as she landed.

Flame, heat and metal surged up as she fell down.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
Debris and concussive flaming energy from the breaching charges turned inward at his face reminding Maenowan Jelan Ya'qul Primus of Triad Besh of the axiom no plan survives the first three seconds in war. 

His overarching strategy remained unchanged.

Triad Besh shrugged off the inversion of their breaching charges, their bespoke Sulen Gauss Rifles slung under their arms pushing through to support Midge.

Pick your target, take your time, squeeze the lever

This was how his Triad Besh operated, cool, controlled and methodical.  Each of the Triad picked one target and fired.

The momentary advantage the Aethans held dissipated in an instant as Taran, Evyn and Maeson were all forced to dodge the magnetically accelerated diamond hard bullets.

It couldn't save Arrbis, whose Force based wound was fatal, the Secundus of Triad Herf struggling on the ground a dozen Hades shots having lanced half his body to meaty shreds, but it relieved Inji to scuttle to Midge and double the attack on Taran who now faced two Cataphracts with a broken sword.

Evyn and Maeson quickly snapped to cover, Mason's repeater clip running out of ammo at the worst possible moment.

Ya’qul heard the familiar ‘click’ and knew who to target, the tactical guide flowing into the Tribus battle meld, Tassk and Linella  his Triad members redoubling their shots, Evyn managing to hit Tassk a handful of times in the exact same spot overwhelming the dover Catalysts ability to repair that one spot.

Evyn snapped up over a bench that was two shots away from being compromised as Maeson reloaded with preternatural swiftness, hurling an implosion grenade to buy time, Evyn guiding it with the aether.

In a final sacrifice Arrbis leapt into the Implosion grenade path, hunkering his large form around it to ensure it did damage to little more than his own dying form.

It was a scene of twisting and writhing  Ya’qul would not soon forget.

Taran’s his native speed keeping him from being overwhelmed, but his opponents strength and skill denied him any chances to get an edge in as Besh continued to fire suppressive shots, the battle meld ensuring there was no risk of friendly fire among the Tribus.

<Eva, Cataphracts!> He hardly needed to explain that she, Kassyndra and Jenaea were already rushing through the Bases' long Ocean bordered corriords to assist.

Ya’qul knew this too - and the trap waiting for them. 

His mouth tensed upward in the barely noticeable slant that was as close to a smile as the hardened soldier's face ever managed.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<
Her arms were tense, almost shaking with anticipation as she pressed into the service corridor, taking comfort and calm from the Battlemeld and the leader of the Triad Leth opposite - Dexxel Behrn’s focus.

[Two] the HUD text came across as his advanced Multispec picked up the approach of two of the three shadows that had torn into Istic fortress.

That was good, they could deal with these two then assist the others.

[3….2….KILL]

With perfect harmony Triad’s Leth and Forn slammed open the faux wall panels, Behrns Triads Multi-specs had already zeroed their targets through the assisted aim function of their Armours onboard sensors.

Arm mounted lasers and micro missiles flew from both sides at them, Taryn and Lydan barely able to crouch into defensive stances, kinetic shields deflecting the micro missiles, the lasers forcing them to leap.

As Kalli anticipated the surprise didn’t last long, barely a second later the Shadows fired back teleport shunting further down the corridor to gain distance and avoid being trapped by six Cataphracts.

<Bastards were waiting for us> Taryn sneered even as he spun like a twi’leki stripper pistols hitting shoulders as the Cataprhacts dodged the head shots he had intended, Lydan’s Naginata spinning so fast it seemed a solid wall to shield him from laser fire that spat off it.

The Triads had them surrounded. Swapping arm mounted lasers for furious Zweihanders they fell on them, trusting their battlemeld and years of close training to coordinate every motion, taking advantage of the opening one left while also ready to parry for the Cataphract beside them.

Pirate and ‘Nerf Herder’ once at ods now trusted each other just as innately - Lydans wider form able to take the heaviest of the Cataphract blows, while Taryn's extra reach and speed let him stab into gaps.

One on one the Aethans were predators, but encircled they were prey. 

Kalli and Behrn did everything they could to box them in tighter while keeping just enough distance to avoid being sucked into an implosion grenade or massive Force lighting attack as their blades met with a cacophony of clashes that lit the darkened corridori up with radiant heat from the impacts and plasma jets from ablative plating.

Kalli’s secundus managed to cleave a gash in Taryns Shoulder, the Pirate took the blows momentum to swing wildly back onto Kalli, his Katana slicing into Kalli’s helm shattering the visor transparisteel. 

Triad Leth pushed Lydan against Taryn's back, the shepherd sweeping his Naginata low to cut into the shin guards of the whole Triad, sparks flew, dover catalyst flooded to repair, but the Triad was stalled long enough for his rising slash to cut into the Behrns chest plate - Lydan’s wife unparalleled skill in enchantment leaving a hissing trail of eldritch shatterpoint flame that started to eat into Behrns helmet, the albino Primus forced to cast it aside before the vicious force curse spread.

<Lydan now!> With a burst of displaced air the pair teleported from the Beskar Breaker jaws.

The six Cataprhacts spun round as they now found themselves in between the two Shadows who opened up from a distance grenades and daggers flying amidst a sea of maser shots.

This was why the Shadows had sawn through the regular knights - incredible power, overwhelming strength and an uncanny ability to turn every situation on its head in a flash.

Only the precision of the battle meld and durability of the Cataphract armour saved them as their Zweihanders went from battering the enemy to deflecting maser shots.

“You take the butch tentacle head,” Taryn yelled as he glared at the visible feature of the two Primus under their broken helms, voice intentionally louder than the crackle of energy on saber, Taryns crass insults just another tool in his arsenal.

“I’ll take the pasty-faced dreng sucker,”

“Oh you’re in for it now deeb cleaner,” Behrn growled as he lunged forward at the insult to his albinism and outright racism toward Kalli.

“Bring it on yorp fluffer!” he yelled back with strength he didn’t feel - numerous flakes of Blackstone were falling off his armour, Lydan too covered in still orange heated gashes after barely thirty seconds of fighting, the teleport had gotten them out, but it had been exceptionally costly to their aetheric stamina - they would need to rely on tech and toughness.

Kalli focused on the task at hand moved through the barrage knowing the lone Shepherds ranged ammunition couldn’t outlast her Triads stern defence.

Bolts and implosions buffeted her from every side, exposing surrounding rooms as they tore walls to twisted balls.  They were near the training Salles and arming rooms, Kalli pushing her opponent back toward the former, Leth pushing the pirate to the latter. 

If they couldn’t fight six against two, three onto one would do.

Divide and Conquer she smiled as her enemy's Blaster rifle, already overheated and glowing orange, clicked as the power cell was depleted and her Triad still stood firm.

<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:58:18 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 9

>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
She thumbed the trigger an instant before they passed by.

Explosives from Kalli’s personal collection designed to breach capital ship grade doonium from the outside in flared in white blinding blasts that Ravra’s Triad looked away from, even the auto polarisation insufficient to block the luminosity of the micro suns, though Rena and Rana’s scales birstled joyfully in the heat flowing to their exothermic bodies. 

The Level 3 Main Access corridor was less blasted than melted in the instant after Jeanea stopped short and grabbed Evaea and Kassyndra with her mind hauling them back before the blast - not fast enough, Kassyndra the closest struck by a wave of white hot metal.

Ravra pushed through the molten opening arm lasers blazing as her Barabel companions rushed low and fast, tails bladed and plated in keen armour ready to sweep the enemies feet from under them.

The three shadows they had caught had barely gotten to their feet before the lasers and the Barabel twins struck.

Rana and Rena attacked in hunched poses with skittering lightness, their zweihanders slashing on their opening passes into round house swings that then brought their muscular tails on the reverse side slamming into one of the Shadows bodies, the lithe feminine abyss covered assassin stumbling to avoid the flurry.

To Ravra’s satisfaction another of the Shadows was divesting herself of overheated pieces of brittle oblivion plate - caught too close to the demolition charges - she left this one and concentrated on the third, her legs boosted by the power armours servo’s and the Force accelerating her to nearly 50 kpmh her laser fire just outpacing her as she slammed her kinetically charged blade first into the the still stunned Jenaea.

The least martial of the three Aethan women was hammered down the corridor rolling and bouncing, her sheer weight denting and cracking the floor and wall, her helmet and upper breast plate hissing from Ravra’s blade swipe as the Cathar relentlessly sought a second killing blow.

At the last moment on her half leap, boot falls echoing off the walls, Ravra felt her foot pull up uncomfortably as Kassyndra regained some sense to telekinetically grip the Primus foot then pull her pistol.

Ravra snapped round to block the heated hades shots, giving Jenaea time to recover and pull her own Hades rifle - the wheel of opportunity turned against Ravra in a swift second as she found herself under heavy fire from both sides.

Evaea was locked a death dance between the Barabel Cataphracts, their crouched posture and dexterous but powerfully muscled tails pressing her hard. 

She was trained as an assassin, to strike once and fatally from the shadows, Karintha and Jarys training in more ‘open’ forms of combat had not become second nature yet leaving her to fall back on her erstwhile Anzat Sensei’s strategy of stealth and avoidance - abilities that the Barabels incessant attacks and saurain senses denied.

Worse, Kassyndra was a healer, Jenaea a scout, proficient as any Aethan in defeating two Knights, perhaps a single Maenwon or Silver, but the Cataphracts were a grade above the pair in armament and attitude.

Barabel twins hissed at the imminent thrill of a successful hunt.
 
<<<<>>>>

Collision — 35 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
Throat scratched from his endless Warriors Howl Ostooloruu Wuurich dark brown eyes focused through the yellow and red fragmented warning indicators on the cracked heads up display, past the ever growing crack in the helmet lenses, directly to the black humanoid mass that was his enemy.

An entire herd of Wookie Warriors would bellow the Howl striking terror in their enemies as the sound became a physical force amplified in a thousand throats - alone it helped to cry out his frustrations to keep his focus.

And he was mighty frustrated.  Even with his secundus the Shadow was obdurate in it’s defence, no longer making gains but neither yielding an inch.

Around their roulette of slash and parry the laboratories were turned upside down, beakers smashed computers smoking, centrifuges wildly spinning sticky liquids on carbon scored walls.  Ya’qul’s Triad Besh with cold focus lifted any cover they could from the ground telekinetically - and blasted what they couldn’t with their Gauss Rifles.

Midge had broken the malefic tip of the Shadows Claymore off - the remaining two thirds fell from on high at his right shoulder pauldron once more - Midge leaned into it dover catalyst and metal scraping off as he switched grips to try and drive his Beskar breaker into the Shadows gut, a sizzling glance only as the dexterous Aethan twisted.

The pit of Midge’s stomach dropped once more as though he were on an Oevvaor catamaran over stormy seas, he knew it was the cursed effect of the Shadows blade and Howled in defiance louder to distract from the nausea.

With a guttural bellow Taran roared back at the Furred Beast - he’d fought overgrown animals as the Varangian, knew instinctively when they reared you straighten and yell back.

Stance lifting Taran loomed over Midge briefly, it reminded the ‘short’ wookie of his low stature and doubled his ferocity in an instant, Juyo Form mastery on full display as he tore at the Shadow that had come to despoil Galtea and murder friend and kin.

Inji kept the pressure on the flanks and against the Shadows Force abilities, Lighting and Kinetite blasts in such abundance they were taking a toll on Inji’s Legacy Armour, the Force resistance was strong but not infinite.

Taran felt calm, the simplicity of the battle, needing only to focus on making the next move the best one a familiar relief from his memory lapses. A warm trickle of memory in his hind brain of battles against champions of Dathomir brought options to his mind.

Crashing into Midge’s upward stroke the Aethan spun side on, arms high - Inji took the bait and thrust forward.  Taran felxible for his frame spun over and slammed his arms down over the Tertius even as his broken Claymore cut down on the Primus damaged right Pauldron with a burst of Shatterpoint energy.

The Claymore cut hard and straight through the Wookies pauldron and shoulder out the arm pit with a wet splash of blood.

Midge’s Howl quientend to pain shocked silence as his right arm fell to the ground, the Malacia hexes Karintha had imbued Taran’s Claymore with seeping into the wound.

Ya’qul further into the labs stopped dead as he sensed the change.

“Keep the pressure on!” He ordered swinging round to assist.

Triad Besh had systematically hammered every piece of cover and much of Evyn and Maesons armour - Besh’s Intel-Aim system relentlessly targeting the Aethans shoulder, knees, ankles and elbows where armour was the weakest and the most damage to their maneuverability would be done.

The Sulen Gauss rifles had been designed in Hephaestus, too heavy for conventional troops they had a lightsaber bayonet added and were provided to the Cataphracts for field testing before the War, Ya’Qul immediately recognised potential and volunteered his Triad.

Like the Ancient Arbiter for which they were named they were precise and elegant as they were deadly.

Evyn was limping snapping shots from his pistol, right elbow crippled, Maesons front and back were laced with dozens of impact craters from the magnetic accelerated diamond bore projectiles, half a dozen were seeping blood, his right ankle almost blown out entirely.

The Primus leaving the room for even a moment was their chance.

Racing on the walls with the Aether keeping his lame right leg moving, Evyn doged the rounds as Maeson leapt over their last barricade presenting a tempting target.

The Secundus and Tertius were not fooled, quickly readied for Melee, Saber Bayonets snap-hissing on as Evyn leapt at them blade in hand - then dropped it at the last moment, shunting himself kinetically. 

Evyn landed gripping the Secundus, a wide Trandoshan Tassk who hissed at Evyn dragged on him, the Aethan couldn’t wrap his arms around the massive armoured reptilian armoured - but slowed him enough for Maeson to get in easy shots.

The Hades repeater went full throttle pumping 41 rounds near point blank into the Cataphract Before the Tertius Linella stabbed Maeson in one of his open wounds with her saber bayonet.

Cataphract armour and Dover catalyst was resilient, but 41 phirk rounds energised by Chiss Maser tech was too much for most tanks. 

Tassk and Maeson fell simultaneously, Evyn struggling up leaping at Linella, his blade ineffective only glancing off the largely undamaged armour of the Zeltron Tertius.

Linella bashed back carrying full weight the heavy rifle with each bayonet blow into Evyns chest, the Zeltron woman then spinning back to Maeson to stab down at him - even with the power armour and Force the gauss rifle was heavy and hard to wield in melee, forcing her to pull back as the Aethans began to strike at her two to one with their swords.

One arm gone Midge switched to a one handed grip on his beskar breaker without even pausing, his Howl twice as strong.

Taran crushed Injis arms against his chest, the Secundus struggling to escape as Taran switched grips and drove his broken claymore into the Cataphracts chest with shatterpoint energy, sparks flying as the ablative plasma cloud, raw metal and dover catalyst resisted.

With a single handed upward sweep Midge cut straight for the Shadow warrior, his blade slicing in a crackling bumpy path along Tarans  left side,  Inji firing his arm mounted lasers point blank into Taran’s right.

Ya’qul with a professional poise fired his rifle straight into Taran’s back.

Midge’ blow sliced the Aethans helmet and turned the left side of his face into a cauterized bloody mess, Inji’s laser fire turned Taran’s right armour brittle and heated, Ya’qul’s bored into Taran’s back.

Astonishing the Cataprhacts Taran didn’t even budge, just pushed his blade deeper into Inji, then with a grunt swung it back out trailing a steaming green hiss of Karintha’s peerless Malacia enchantment that turned every scratch and cut Inji had suffered gangrenous, the deep wound in his stomach that might otherwise have been survivable began to rot and spread toxins throughout his organs at an accelerated rate causing him to collapse writhing and vomiting.

Taran spun to Midge an offhand blast of kinetite to knock Ya’qul from his feet. Slamming on his back Ya’qul quickly rose up to see Midges tenacity duelling  one armed and bleeding duelling with the Shadow, the stump where the wookies right arm had been infected from the Shadows' sick powers and was turning black.  A bitter crease on his face Ya’qul fired round after round at the Shadow.

Taran deflected a few, able to spare effort given the wookies disadvantage, but too many were getting through.  The Two Primus wore the former Varangian down in a painfully slow combination of Midge’s Juyo and Ya’qul’s Gauss rifle.

First to one knee, then both, Taran fought on with the same blank expression on the half of his face that remained complete, finally two shots to the upper back from Ya’qul and a hilt blow to the skull from Midge sent him toppling.

No time to check the body yet, both Primus rush to Linella.  The Zeltron had taken too many hits from the Aethan men, but gave as good as she got. 

With Midges roaring charge into Maseon and Ya’quls running, gutting bayonet into Evyn the Aethan fell, Maeson still struggling cast off his sword and clawed and punched at the wookie, partially concussing him with a lucky blow to the head.

Ya’qul shoving the dazed Midge to engage the Aethan, slamming the butt of his gauss rifle into him, Maeson struck back with slow but hard blows rattling Ya’qul within his armour until the sheer number of saber bayonet hits brought him down.

Standing over the bodies only now did Ya’qul notice blood covering his face was his own, Midge barely able to stand clutched where his right arm had been, Linella’s breast plate as scratched and bloody as a nexu feeding box.

Consummate completionist, Ya’qul ordered the sealing of their hard won gains..

“Cut off the heads,”
<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 05:59:08 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 10

>>>> Istic Fortress Vault<<<<
Equal and opposing forces collided together then blew apart as the tension between the blue beskar-breaker and the oblivion blade released.

Melron shuffled back quickly, again Soban remained unmoved, his feet had barely shifted through the last minutes of a fight that had left the two old masters armour battered and dented, muscles bruised and skin cut.

Neither could feel any of them.  For the Aethan it was biological design that registered damage as sensory data rather than visceral sensation, the Vahlans veins were pumping so many pain spressants just to stand nothing could have rendered him the slightest sensation.

Soban knew his enemy was beginning to realise this.

Melron charged for the seventh time, kinetic fists coming at Soban from both sides, the Gray Masters recent years studying Force Powers in conjunction with Cataphract plate ensuring he could mitigate the worst of the invisible blows and take on the thrusting blade.

Clash by rapid clash his over muscled arms worked to fend the Oblivion Warrior off, before after six hard clashes that sent sparks into the air Melron pulled back two steps and left an obvious opening.

Soban grunted.

The anesthetics delivered through his armour that kept him standing were now at the point of cutting off motor control below the waist.

Melron simply nodded and took another few steps back spreading his arms leaving his torso exposed.

Soban fired this last remaining arm mounted cannon which the Aethan summarily blasted off with a bolt of lighting from his left hand and remained in an open position.

He can’t move Melron realised.  Standing directly in front of the Vault the sheer size of the Cataphract armour taking up most of the space Soban had placed himself as a living barricade.

Puffing in his numbness Soban felt his enemy search him in the Force, he hadn’t the strength to hide much.

“So that’s how it is…” Melron finally said. 

To Sobans astonishment he took off the faceless helmet to reveal a human looking face, short beard and reddish hair with mingled gray above care worn eyes.

After all the stories, all the legends, it astonished Soban to see the Shadow Warriors was...beneath that abyssal plate...so ordinary he could be a Vahl villager.

“...you’d rather die fighting for your People than in your bed,” Melron went on
“Warrior to Warrior, I respect that...and I won’t take advantage of the fact.”

Soban tentatively unclasped his own helm revealing beneath the painfully inserted now utterly unfeeling intravenous lines into his neck and through to his brain to suppress the enormous pain he would otherwise be feeling from his genetic condition, his blue eyes blood shot, red hair loose and falling out from the drugs.

“Thank you,” he said, voice thin and dry from the noxious medications.

The Shadow Warrior could easily design his attacks around that fact Soban couldn’t move.

But something in the Old Man's aura told him he didn't want to do that, he wanted to fight as fair as possible, and win on his own skill, not on Soban’s genetic flaws.

And with their helmets off...well they both had that much more of a chance.

Melron re-gripped his Oblivion Tremor-sword and brought it above his head, feet widely spaced.

A moment later their blades struck heavy and quick.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Lus’Phor - Nishalorite Veins<<<<
Lyaea’s head was spinning, the bullet had struck neurons that took in spatial information from her genetically enhanced vestibular systems leaving her with little sense of her own sense of place, let alone anyone else's. 

Relying on the aether she blocked al-Marq’s teal blade as Henslou pivoted to find another opening, cursing the shot hadn’t killed her outright.

Alfa struggled against  a flurry of blows from Ari, her Jar-kai based style beating his Niman form down with each pass - and Lyaea’s blade was still in him bleeding a non-thermal heat in the Force using his skin as kindling, the smell of burnt fur reaching his nose.
The Primus spun round, taking blows to his back just to yank the cursed blade from his abdomen.

Lil’Nern charged in for the ‘crash’ part of the Corellian Creh crash - you blast ‘em with the cannon first, then hack 'em from the flanks, now you bulldoze.

Chimi and Kylista positioned Yorna where they wanted her with each carefully coordinated strike among the Corellian natives, the Shadow Warriors skills Kylista had to admit were darn good, she could understand why so many Knights had fallen when they had to fight a Shadow one on one, only the perfect synthesis of a Triad bond kept Cresh in control of the situation.

Yorna felt the danger rising as her opponents used sweeping long stabs to gain distance, then Nenr charged in.

Turbo laser in one hand zweihander in the other, a horizontal spray of red laser filled the gap Yorna occupied, Chimi and Kylista ensuring she couldn’t roll out, Yorna ducked, then leapt as Lil’Nerns aim followed her relentlessly his Zweihander about to come down on her.

As the last laser bolt left his cannon Chimi and Kylista charged in, three Zweihanders in perfect position to cut her high, mid and low Yorna got desperate.

The Oblivion arrow enchanted to teleport back to her quiver stuck in Lil’Nerns shoulder armour was her fixed point, inverting the normal enchantment she teleported to it rather than it to her.

The Corellian Cresh Crash brutally slashed nothing but empty air as their opponent vanished appearing astonishingly on Lil’Nerns shoulder gripping the arrow embedded there. 

A twisting drive plunged the arrow head deeper into his shoulder as Yorna flipped down with all her dexterity from her ‘high’ position sword first into the top of Kylista’s helmet.

The blade heated by aether flame cut clean through the cataphract plate and marred the Corellian woman's already scarred face further before a Force push from Chimi sent Yorna flying.

It seemed to Triad Cresh a display of unmatchable power...Yorna couldn’t let them see just how much that teleport had cost her, teetering on the edge of exhaustion.

al-Marq’s clash with Lyaea was informative, he saw in her motions her stance a firmness of purpose behind the indifferent vain outer.  In the rapid clash of their blades she was on the edge of stumbling, the Force propping her up more and more.  He fought accordingly.  Her native skill was still beyond his own, and her speed with the shorter sword an advantage against the slower beskar-breaker, the difference made up from his blasts from his wrist mounted cannons and Force pushes to ensure she didn’t get a blade in…

Steam hissed from Alfa’s joints, but the Cataphract armours automated medicae protocols were lathering his burning flesh anaesthetics and bacta as he used his sheer Will and Focus to ‘push’ the fire off him with the Force having finally discerned the means of the attack.

His Triad was doing him proud, al-Marq had one shadow locked, and Alfa needed only pivot slightly for  Henslou to fire at Alfa’s own opponent. 

Four more diamond shots puffed out, two striking Ari, one in her back with little damage other than lodging into the bone of her spine, the second in her leg had avoided her blackstone armour and gone into the joint drilling into ligaments on her upper thigh.

Karintha was now fully engaged against Triad Isk - Qaman’Xa and her Triad keeping the Matriarch engaged on every level - physically surrounding her with a wall of moving Beskar breakers, denying her vast witch like powers in the Force. 

Even outnumbered her physical advantages in speed and strength meant her every blow was that much harder, chipping away inexorably against the Triad whose force powers couldn’t be spent on additional reflexes or strength leaving them open to cuts and thrusts that penetrated between joints, dover filling the void leaving all three bleeding from multiple wounds.

“BACK!” Qaman’Xa suddenly called.

The Triads switched to the defensive, Henslou and Lil’Nern providing covering fire for their Melee engaged counterparts to retreat, the Aing’tii herself hurling Karintha back from them.

Severe damage had been done on both sides, Lyaea barely standing, Yorna’s powers exhausted and armour chewed by the Cresh Crash, Ari shot in the back and thigh, Karintha’s mind under constant nagging containment by the Clergy.

The Tribus were covered in wounds, armour sparking, Lil’Nern and Alfa had the worst of it, only Henslou un-injured.  Heaving the Tribus began to surround the four Aethan women who were wasting no time readying for another attack.

The Tribus ambush was never going to kill the Shadows, but it would soften them for what came next.

The entire cavern rumbled from pure hate that poured out from a font of infinite pain tainted the force black.

A metallic sheen on her now majority nanite body Hamask Ksorallyne Apus stepped from the shadows, fresh and eager to kill.

(https://i.ibb.co/jZs8Hww/Ob-Gray-Lusphor.png) (https://ibb.co/CsDwW99)

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 06:00:03 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 11
>>>> Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<
Triad Qek was ready.

Through Alulat the Primus saw a glimpse of a possible future in which pipes and beams fell upon her head, repositioning quickly, from Eirtae she felt a burn in the Force, indicating which of the Shadow Warriors it was - the so called ‘Blade’.
 
Comm clicks in their Triads unique ‘click-code’ repositioned them just in time.

The ceiling exploded downwards with tons of ferrocrete of the floors above coming with it.

Heavy wooden shelves that once housed hundreds of holo-archive disks were knocked flat or left shaking covered in grimy brown grey dust that ended its gusting just before the cabinet that housed the Holocron - a precision detonation Kalli had planned just for this purpose.

Red flares of weapons fire erupted from the lung choking haze straight at them, Alulat’s future flashs kept them one step ahead as they quickly spread out to surround the gaping wound and attack from all sides, micro missiles locking into firing cylinders seeking heat silhouettes through their multi-spectral visors.

The sight on every plane was intimidating, an enormous flaming Force presence the red of dried blood, primal and vicious, a body feminine but firm and encased in light eating armour.

Another time she might be curious to Gaze deeper.  Today Eritae used her vision to pinpoint the targeting system on her Triads Tac-Computers.

Nine missiles added plasma heat to the ruination aimed at the enemy's heart.

Twice as many fingers width bolts of Force lighting hit them head on, detonating the payload prematurely as Kiraea rose up illuminated with irritation and fury. The pure energy followed the oxidized air trails back to the Cataphracts armour frying circuits within the micro missile launchers or, curving off the Force Callous of the legacy plate.

Lasers locked the Triad streamed fire at the target as the dust settled - too slow for dexterous Aethan  who spun through the serrating beams replying with counter fire from her pistols, Alulat guiding the Triad with micro flashes to avoid hits as Eritae felt a pillar of magma like metaphysical energy begin to rise.

The Triad never stopped moving even as Kiraea zig zagged over the collapsed shelves and cabinets around, Zweihanders in grip the enormous blades flared to life to bash back her maser shots.

Kinetic energy concentrated in a ball barely the size of a fingertip slammed into Villados breast plate, the armour’s callous took the brunt still richoteted into her sternum as she engaged the power armours servo’s to boost her speed and upper body strength, well knowing she would need every ounce.

Out of the dust shadows about her, a sword covered in blue eldritch fire, sharp as a molecular blade smashed down with the force of hurricane.

Balmung took the blow with relish as the shockwave reverberated through Villados armour, kinetic compensators hissing mechanical resistance as the impact point became pure white.

Two, three, four, five slashes in less seconds she could feel the ancient zweihander relishing the novelty of the challenge, but her joints were already not coping with the reverberating shocks.

Alulat moved to support on the flanks boxing Kiraea in every time she tried to dart out at Eritae.

Ertiae was stone still - the Yashuvhi was spread across two realms of existence, on the metaphysical plane she created a tidal wall of soul-fire to protect her Triad from the enemies incorporeal attacks, dozens of thorny spike that sought to plunge them into nightmare hallucinations

The Shadow was more ‘native’ to the metaphysical plane than even the Shamans of Eritae’s homeworld, truly born of the Great Stream, and possessed a cognitive capacity well beyond her own striding both physical and ethereal without dangerously reducing their attention to the baryonic universe as she had to.

The Kiffar held a stern defence but Kiraea’s speed and inhuman dexterity with her twin short swords was getting the better, an overwhelming number of cuts and parries per second beyond anything Villados had ever experienced, the Primus astonished she was managing at all.

The Triad was working in perfect unison, yet only treaded water.

Villados was holding her own in melee only because of Alulat’s prescience, Alulat ensuring the Shadow didn’t outmaneuver Villados by covering her flanks while all their minds were protected by Eritae who relied on them entirely for physical safety.

The dynamic equilibrium continued for time counted in blows, blocks and the battering of the archives.

No plate on Villados body was left without a blackstone blade scar, the Zweihanders reserve power cell had never been more value as it held off the ultradense weapons.  A number of her power armour servo’s and kinetic compensators were failing.

Alulat could feel the intense burn of Force exhaustion under his forehead build, the Katarr steel across his hollow eyes hot from ‘Staring’ into the near future, Ertiae was beginning to shake as the metaphysical thorns multiplied like a hydra each time her Soul Fire wall burnt ones tip.

The entire Librarium was ruined around the combat, without even noticing the three engaged in melee had moved through half the halls and corridors pushing over dozens of cabinets, ancient desks smashed to pieces, wooden chairs burning from saber cuts that missed agile limbs, I beam supports cut clean through by ultradense Blackstone.
 
Kiraea had only to outlast one of the three - their chain was forged strong, like her Goddesses none of was a ‘weak’ link but eventually either the Kiffar’s tendons would snap and muscles trip, the Miraluka’s Sight fade or the Yashuvi’s Soul crack - then the whole Triad would collapse.

Yet...could she last that long?

Outer layers of her Mark II were brittle from strikes of the Zweihanders, Tribal enchantments on her skin and armour were drained of their energy leaving just her native aether connection and physical prowess.

Keeping the eldritch pressure on the Yashuvhi was draining, the damn Miraluka’s prescience sharp as her own and the Cataphract power armour made up the gap in physical strength.

Her blades bounding off another beskar-breaker repulse she switched her grips and summoned up her Oblivion daggers that caught alight with aetheric flame.

She would trust in her oldest allies- Fire and Flexibility.

<<<<<>>>>>

>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
Limbs, tails, blades and jaws spun like a dozen vicious saw blades around her.

Evaea danced and twisted at the very limit of Aethan dexterity enhanced by assassin training could manage.  She was still a patchwork of scratches, cuts and bruises.

The Twin Barabel Cataphracts gnashed and clawed at her, their armour already different in design to accommodate tails featured openings for their claws and teeth, with co-oridnation that could only be achieved by brood mates hatched from the same oversized egg they were a flurry of serrated edges.

With twin short swords Evaea struck where she could, mostly keeping herself being eaten, such was the primal intent she sensed from the reptilians.  She couldn't break from their writhing cacophony of claws to escape into the shadows, her powerful single use Phase blade of no use without a sure target.

Further down the Hall Ravra struck the truth of her two Shadow opponents.  Both were competent but, neither was a match alone for her, and one had been severely injured by her Triads Explosive ambush.  The other one was good at avoiding danger - Ravra had barely hit her - but lacked the experience and strength to fully capitalize on the fact.   

The Clan mothers path was clear. Allowing herself to take some hits from the ‘Dodger’ she focused solely on the ‘Damaged’

Kassyndra bore the brunt of the Cathar Clan Mothers fury, the Aethan Grandmother might not experience pain, but the burns from the explosion had ruined much of her armor and left her skin blistered, red and puffy. 

Her arms strained to deflect the brutal downward blows of the Cathar, Jenaea ran to help sword in one hand rifle in the other, Ravra quickly turned on her with furious barrages of micro missiles, lasers and Force Gusts. 

The pattern repeated three times, Ravra broke another piece of armour or sliced into another of Kassynra’s limbs, Jenaea tried to intervene and was bashed back just as furiously till finally satisfied Kassyndra was a minimal threat Ravra turned her full attention to Jenaea.

The sarcastic Aethans expert danger sense kept her from suffering any of Ravra’s deadlier blows, but they came with such rapidity that Jenaea couldn’t get her own hits in.

A mirror of the frustration was being felt by the Barabel twins, Evaea was too quick and flexible to get their teeth into, but the pair were too ferocious and able to cover each other with blocks and parries for her to get any cuts in.
 
Inconclusive dances at either side of the slagged corridor continued for seemingly endless minute, the music of boots and blasts echoing back between both duels. The Cataprhacts knew this was a stall, the Shadows wanted to wear them out, Ravra wouldn’t allow that.

With a Force Gust that created a mini vortex of air to blast Jenaea back, Ravra raced to unleash the full force of her Triad on Evaea.

The Barabels parted to allow their Primus into the fray, the Clan Mothers Zweihander crashing down onto Evaea’s back as both the assassin girls blades were occupied fending off a Barabel tail and Beskar-Breaker. 

The momentum in the blow sent Evaea crashing, the Barabels swarmed her with tooth and claw, tearing piece after piece of armour off to get at the dense super-human meat beneath.  Pulses of Kinetic energy and a flare of Aether fire did nothing to deter the near feral pair, their legacy arming taking the brunt, sheer instinct to kill overriding the rest, Ravra keeping the careful balance in her Triad to use the Barabels reptilian ferocity to their advantage but not let it overwhelm.

The ubiquitous trickle of ice down Ravra’s spine that was her danger sense anywhere near the Shadows stabbed right on time as she spun from the mauling to block the projectile of Jenaea who had no doubt gotten back up.

The Cathars mouth opened with a moment of shock as she saw not one but two Shadow Warrior arrows knocked in taught bows aiming straight at her.

Their scans, their screening of the holo-vid of the Bases take over had indicated six shadow warriors.  They had not picked up Adaea going directly to the Computer Core, where amidst the ultracool quantum-cognition she was masked from their sensors.

Jenaea and Adaea - while tall and heavy as any Aethan couldn’t compete with super-heavy infantry in melee for long - they had practised their archery and witchcraft with fervour to compensate.

Nine Oblivion arrows bleeding hideous Force based energies  now sought three Cataphract heads at the speed of sound.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on January 18, 2022, 06:01:01 AM
Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 12
>>>> Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<

(https://i.ibb.co/THVQ2KX/Ob-Gray-Band-L.png) (https://ibb.co/P572jTp)

For this battle he was born of arguably the most esteemed of Cathar lineages of the Vhal’Dan.

For this battle he had bled and sweated, holding back only tears on the Meezhn Dunes as he burnt under the baking sun training.

For this battle he had endured the Trial of the Dragon cave, and then half a day later the ‘Ruusan’, that attempted to replicate the harrowing extremities of endless battle for weeks his ancestor had faced in that great war long past.

For this Battle he had earned his ancestors armour and beskar-breaker, trained and studied for years, fought through a hundred battles, endured dozens of injuries coming back stronger and wiser each time.

For this battle, Nurhl Båz-Rhadde, Triarch of the Cataphracts, Lion of the Vhal’dan would need everything a life of dedicated service and unflinching loyalty had forged him to become and more.

A blade of Oblivion, unyielding as the Abyss itself smashed into the beacon of light that was Durandal’s Golden blade, his arms pushed against gravity twice standard as the Aethan Beast manipulated physics itself to gain advantage.

Telekinetic ‘bombs’ exploded around his legs and shoulders. 

The grind of Armoured feet on granite tiles echoed across the Seclisuam and Statues of ancient Triarchs vacant carved gazes watched the Beast and the Lion move at speeds beyond human comprehension, the Force and Aether flowing like rivers shimmering and tugging the very air around them apart leaving whispered trails where the cosmic force bled into real time and space.

First Brave, Beast of Myrkr, Champion of the Goddesses of Aethas, Jarys swung his blade with all the strength densely compacted gene-designed muscles could muster, slamming into the power-armour and Force enhanced guard of the Cathar, vainly hoping to overwhelm the inferior species.

For battles like this had the Goddesses forged him in suffering and struggle, from the pits of Nar Shadda, the wretched bowels of slave ships, the humid jungles of Myrkr and the toxic gas strewn warehouses of Vultper.

He was the Wrath of the Goddesses made manifest.  And he was being pushed to the limit of his engineered reflexes and decades of experience.

Every one of the Triachs blows transformed into a parry of his own counter attack, every thrust the Lion diverted left him momentarily exposed.

The Lion and the Beast fought not with saber forms or studied techniques but by pure instinct adapting to their opponent, seeking every possible advantage drawing on decades of war and practice.

The Triarchs Gatling cannons launched hundreds of blasts as their blades briefly parted, dozens slamming into Jarys chest before he could turn the rest aside with a kinetic wave that sent them blistering into the stone statues.

The Aethan feinted a step then swiftly drew his dagger with his mind, ramming into the Cataphracts arm mounted weapon a bare tenth of a second before he could withdraw - Jarys lost the dagger, Nurhl lost one gattling cannon.

The Balance between the perfectly matched opponents was maintained.

For every scrape and dent Durandal made on the Oblivion Plate, a Blackstone Sword cleaved with tremendous force sufficient to overpower the ablative plasma cloud taking a small potion of Nurhls armour off, the dover catalyst rushing to repair.

Every saber and sword lock began with concussive waves of energy slamming together and ended with a release of tension that rocked the darkened Seclusiam to its very supports.

Tides of black metaphysial ‘sand’ intended to subsume or subvert the Cathars mind poured from Jarys every few seconds rebuffed against the monolithic wall of Conviction and Unshakeable belief in his Cause, his Order and his Kage..

Nurhl’s very soul - everything he believed and cherished - honour, loyalty, respect, inclusion - concepts an Aethan could not truly comprehend - was forged into a shield around his mind to protect against the gnashing jaws of a consciousness that could not be reasoned with or manipulated for it was raw Instinct.

The Sentient ‘Jarys’ was a mere function to provide input within a genetically designed machine that now streamed Aephrodaesin, Aertemisian and a dozen other bespoke hormones through a super-human body to create the apex predator that would survive all a galaxy of threats could throw at it.

For now that threat was in the form of a single Cathar who would not succumb, and could never surrender. 

Their helmets were quickly cut and dented beyond use as the blizzard of strikes at all angles were invariably aimed at the head and neck.

A round house kick forced Jarys to sweep low, Nurhl followed it with blast from his remaining gatling cannon, Jarys sword deflect most but the wiley Cathar had plotted it to ensure the blocked bounded most shots back into Jarys upper body, a half dozen striking his oblivion helm full on leaving the already damaged piece a pockmarked mess he had to be rid of.

Nurhl had no time to savour the momentary advantage as the Aethan hurled the helmet like a cannonball of old, striking the Triarch in the shoulder then following through with a vicious combination of light then heavy strikes at the Cathar’s feet.

Nurhl parried each but found no opening before the Aethan incredibly simply let his sword go, both hands balled into fists and pummeled the Triarch in the head - the Oblivion sword incredibly still moving as if Jarys were holding it.

Impressed as he was threatened by the astonishing coordination Nurhl felt his skull bouncing in the padded helmet, felt the pop of ablative counter measures even as he kept his zweihander deflecting the sword that sought the joints in his lower armour.

Needing space he overcharged his gattling cannon with a blink click, wielding Durandal one handed for a brief moment to fire the arm mounted weapon point blank.

A shock of raw blaster energy slammed into Jarys chest sending him skidding backward but still standing, his fists opened to splayed fingers that poured aether lighting at the arm mounted weapon before it could fire again, the circuits vulnerable from the overcharge overloaded.

Now a danger to himself Nurhl quickly detached the two now useless cannons and cast aside his own helmet that was beaten so badly out of shape from Jarys fists he could barely see.

Eye met eye, nostrils flared as each predator took in the scent of the other, at a slight distance they could see the damage already done, both were covered in chips and heated gouges, smoke hissing from oblivion armour, sparks spitting from broken pieces of Cataphract Plate overwhich Dover Catalyst ran like mercury blood. 

They had only just begun.

25 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:10:34 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 1
20 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>War Beyond War<<<<

A war was fought across the Force, encompassing the distance less unity of the Energy field that connected all living things.

The Troika’s nascent battle-meld across Hephaestus Base, Nurhl’s Den and Lus’Phor formed a semi-sentient bloc in the Force, drawing on the emotional power of the Cataphracts that it encompassed to give it form, energy and ‘personality’.

It was a perfect symbiosis of the Fierce sense of Duty and Warrior Ethic of Ya-qul and Alfa, the passionate drive of Chimi, obdurate endurance and diligence of Kall-Jeq, the Loyalty and Conviction of Nurhl, righteous intent of The Clergy, the free-wheeling of Corellian Cresh, the rough anger of Midge, crass fury of Behrn.

True to the nature of Gray Jedi it pulled energy from emotions of Light and Dark - but most of all the infinite shades in between.

Against it, was the Aethan Group mind - Verging on Self Aware - yet primitive and vicious.  It was a creation of base needs to hunt, survive, avenge, and above all Protect and Profit the Tribe.  If there were emotional components, they were mere tools in the service of these fundamental needs.

It’s energy was a bloody visceral red that operated on an instinctual plane somewhere beneath and around the more ‘high’ minded Cataphract Meld. 

The ephemeral energies battled on a plane around and beyond the baryonic universe. Derivative purely of the constituents that formed them into a functional mechanism - the Cataphract Gestalt with its Focus and Determination, bursting rage and ferocity tempered by sage nobility where advantage loomed, the Aethan Gestalt with a predatory animals cunning, patient or vicious as its instinct demanded.

Equally matched at the outset the concentrated energies mirrored and influenced the clash of muscle and bone. 

A laceration, a concussion, a counter attack or Force suppression would be reflected in a ‘contraction’ of the associated Gestalt. 

Conversely, if one Overmind found a ‘soft’ patch in the other, its lancing ephemeral barb could cause an old injury to niggle, a parry or thrust to scrape a centimeter too short, a telekinetic attack to be blunted that bit extra.

The Energies both guided and reflected their creators actions, was wounded with and dealt wounds to its members as often as it bolstered them.

Minutes before what would be known as the Lus’Phor Holocaust they twisted in dynamic violent equilibrium.

In the oceanic deep cold pressures beneath the Glaciers of Galteas Northern pole Jelan Ya’qul prepared to end the lives of three Aethans, a hundred meters away Evaea was broken under the weight of Triad Esk, Ravra Pax Crion turning to face the last two Aethan not comatose or seriously injured.

The Nishalorite Veins of Lus’Phor were electric with the humm and glow of sabers, Aresaea desperate to push through to reach her captive mother, or risk failing in the one task she had returned to Galtea to accomplish. 

In her way a Tribus and Ksorallyne Apus, the Hamask so deep in grieving hateful darkness the Oblivion armour of those she faced was luminous in contrast.

While many could understand the power of the Metaphysical Super War between Battlemeld and Group Mind, only two could truly wield it - the Aing-Tii ‘Stone Skinned Mage’ Qaman’xa and the ‘Witch-Matriarch’ Karintha - drawn by that same overriding conflict to a fated duel.


If either Karintha or Qaman’Xa could harness the full potential of their respective Oversouls, the advantage would be insurmountable.


High ‘above’ them in the moon's many hangars and docking zones, an arrogant Maekal was beaten bloody, the Kage Anson D’Aklon proving to his wavering Council the Shadows were mortal as he awaited word of his loyal Cataphracts victory. 

His destiny stalked toward him in the form of Valens, the Executioner, Slayer of Masters. The Aethan Warchief driven by the instinctive petulance of a primitive culture to break the human for his transgressions against Aresaea,

Istic Fortress, bombarded from above, was filled with battle below. 

Kiraea and Triad Qek fought a grinding war of attrition, both waiting for the other to show the slightest fatigue. 

Two old men, Soban and Melron, fought the duel that would be the end of one of their lives with honour.

Kalli and Behrn relentlessly pursued the Pirate and the Shepherd of Aethas, tearing walls and doors asunder to give them nowhere to hide.

Above the planet, Xanaea, Nyaea, Oran and Selaena, too young, untrained, or injured to join the battle sensed the balance falling from their favour, their Transports cutting through the atmosphere to extract. 

No holocron, tech or artefact was worth the Peoples lives.

In the Seclusiam watched on by the vacant gaze of Triarchs past, the Lion of the Vhal’Dan and the Wrath of the Goddesses fought in ferocious single combat, every cell in their body committed to breaking the other.

Every battlefield, every individual, each passing moment was crucial as the next in the Final Conflict of this the War Between Aethan and Cataphract. 

The Outcome was uncertain.

The scars would be indelible.   

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Lus’Phor - Nishalorite Veins<<<<
Sora was the Indomitable eye of the Storm. 

Oblivion blades, Abyssal arrows and blue white lighting came at her from the tempest that surrounded her.

Unmoved, undaunted Sora replied with a blizzard of nanite tendrils stabs, dover catalyst extra limbs a finger width wide ending in sharpened spinning blades interspersed with enormous sweeps of her saber staff, the orange blade turning dense armour plating hot red where it hit, Force enhanced kinetic impacts sending the 400 kilo plus Shadow warriors flying into the Beskar-Breaker wall of the Tribus that comprised the outer edge of the storm.

The Hamask Hurricane positioned the Beserkers in the centre, the enemy around them, and a Tribus around them in turn, designed specifically for maximizing the feral damage a Hamask could inflict with the disciple a Tribus could enact to counter Elite Heavy Infantry.

The Tribus pushed the Shadow warriors back at the Hamask each time they tried to escape, all the time shooting and stabbing in.

Sora was a Lighting rod for Aethan attention, size, ferocity and raw power dominating their view, a single lax moment against her would be death.

Karintha and Lyaea tried to cut in low, short swords slicing through mobile nanites as ineffectual as cutting a water, the Hamask slamming pair sending the Matriarch to the ground with teeth loosened, the younger woman into Ngyys Zweihander, she spun in time to limit his soresu slash to a cut on her shoulder instead of neck.

Yorna planted an implosion grenade with a shortened fuse in the Lasat’s metal body, Chimi Mal Wel intervening yanked it away, hurling it deep into the cavern. Sora growling and stabbing her saber into Yorna’s breastplate. 

She crashed into Ari who was fending off Al-Marq and Kylista.

They were in a Death Zone, muscles and bones shattering with each blow from Sora, skin burnt over and over by the Tribus Zweihanders, armour increasingly brittle from Lil’Nerns Cannon, Henslou’s sniper rifle puncturing craters in their plate.


The Nanites mercury movements avoiding blades and projectiles, combined with its Force Callous from the damaged Legacy Armour and Dover Catalyst composition made it virtually untouchable by the Aethans Powers.

A fact that gave Sora the closest twisted thing to enjoyment she could now feel.

The price of her Nanite body was searing itching pain along the joins to what remained of her biological form, a constant white red irritation that she pushed on to her enemy.

Delving into the darkness Sora’s flesh hand crackled with azure Force Lighting, flowing down her saber adding electrical burns to her next slash into Karintha’s thigh.

<Give some cover!> Ari demanded - the only one who had faced Sora and not been beaten to a pulp the other three women obeyed, taking blows from both sides in the jungle of death where vines were Beskar-breaker, insects laser hots and sniper rounds, trees the ernmous nanite limbs of Lasat Cyborg.

Ari drew forth the protective intensity of her powers, focusing on the truth that Sora stood between her and Saani, if she didn’t remove this impediment everything she had come here for, everything she had risked her relationship with Milaea for would be for nought.

Eyes closed, body tensing as Aether and Aertemisin flooded her body. 

They reopened with a flare of Purple luminosity that was reflected on every kyber crystal and left the Tribus briefly stunned, their stances retreating back fearing some kind of self-immolation explosion.

Speed greater than even her superhuman normal Ari flew straight at Sora, grabbing handfuls of the barbed nanites and pushing out molecular destructive energies.

Last time the entire edifice of the reborn Lasat had crumbled, now a handful of nanites dusted away and Sora rounded a swing slamming Ari’s in the head back with a vicious grin.

<Make me an opening!> Ari demanded, the other responding quickly, Yorna and Lyaea concentrating on creating a gap between Kylista and Lil’Nern while Karitnah took the brunt of Sora’s fury while avoiding Al-Marq and Alfa best she could.

On wings of Aether fire Ari tensed her knees and burst into flight, slamming straight into Sora, gripping her and pushing back on gravity, up telekinetically to lift the huge Hamask and carry her straight through, buffeting the two Corellians and slamming the Lasat into the crystal laced wall, shattering the Kyber and rock straight through the pair tumbling into darkness beyond.

Only one of them would be seen again.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:13:23 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 2
Hamask and Heroine
They tumbled, crashed and scraped through gallery after gallery, plumes of rock dust and fragmented crystals left in their wake.

The only lights in the otherwise empty caverns was the furious glare of Sora’s saber staff slicing heated orange cuts into the rock, and the regal purple glow of Aris Saber and entire body.

An aether inferno around the young Aethan kept the sniping of dozens of blended tentacle nanite limbs at bay.

“I gave you a chance to live once Sora, I won’t give you another,” Ari called as saber snap hisses echoed

Their blades crashed like clouds high above, thunder rippling outward sparks flying like lighting to the ground with heated plasma. 

“Such arrogance!” was the sneering reply

Endless rounds of blade work repeated, before one or the other sensing a chance would rush in and shoulder or tackle the other, trying to grind them to paste against the rock - but finding the metamorphic formations gave way before the nanites or aether infused body did.

Sora grabbed Ari round the waist and used her as a battering ram to crash through three more walls, the Aethan woman had given up using energy to resist until the last second, the nanties felt nothing and she couldn’t reach the minimal Lasat flesh beneath.

With a flash of her eyes a vast tonne of stalactites laced with Kyber cracked down onto Sora’s back briefly staggering her.

Ari flipped out in a narrow enclosure, sprung off a wall and hammered the Lasat straight backward at an angle, sending the Hamask into a cavern wall that finally held but spewed dust and fragments as a giant crater was imprinted into it.

Each eroding clash sheared off a few thousand nanites - there were millions more.

“Look at yourself,” Ari hissed out in the cavern's emptiness, the Kyber fragments on the ground and crystals embedded in the rock purple tinged mirrors that created reflections upon reflections of them both and each other into infinity.

“What have you let them turn you into?”

Sora pushed out of the rock and reached with her artificial limb to summon her saber back - the staff flew at lightning speed, hissing activated toward Ari’s back. 

The Aethan dodged swiftly then as the balde passed caught it in her own telekinetic grip.

The pair struggled against each other's grip, the saber staff trembling in the middle.

“Could Lenz recognize you?” Ari grunted as air rumbled between them, rocks and shards on the ground lifting into the air, small arcs of lighting between them.

Sora growled as the words struck truer than any blow, rumbling rage energy in the Telekinetic tension exploded into a torrent of Force Lighting that cascaded onto her own Saber staff, bubbling the outer metal, the back wash strikinging Ari’s ubiquitous Aether aura, most blocked, a portion she absorbed to refuel the shield.

With hate in her veins, pain along every cybernetic interface Sora rushed at incredible speed for her size, sweeping up her staff in one hand and shouldering into Ari, ramming her into the far wall, jagged Kyber cutting into weak points on her damaged armour.

Snarling, Sora raised her staff to pierce the heart heart before Ari blasted her off with a wave of energy.

Sora stabilised, nanite limbs in her wake to pin the Aethan, Ari’s sabers slicing off the tips, the majority of fragments by magnetic attraction flying back to the main body.

“What are you fighting for Sora? Lenz is dead, the Ansonites have lost, the Kage will be dead soon. You. Have. Nothing!” Ari’s words were bitter and strained as the Lasat slashed at her once more, cleaving vast boulders in two each time the lithe Aethan dodged.

“Nothing to LOSE!” Sora roared back and intensified her strikes through a series of brutal spins, interspersed with blasts of Dark Force Lighting that she now used freely.

”The path of the Hamask is not easy,” Soban said so many years before.  “To embrace every dark emotion and not let it stain you….to fight as if you have nothing to live for, but still hold the connections and values you seek to protect...to endure what all Gray Jedi struggle with taken to the absolute limit at all times”

The studied Master had still been in his prime when Sora sought the path of the Hamask to further her power to protect the Vhal’Dan. 

It had been decades since any had followed that dangerous calling, Soban was instrumental in helping her renew the traditions for so long confined to tomes within the Librarium Sapientia.

“You need an anchor, someone to remind you of who or what you fight for…perhaps an apprentice?”

Sora had baulked at that, she was a loner, more curmudgeonly than even Midge, unable to join a Triad, she couldn’t possibly have patience to train another while developing herself as a Hamask?!

“That…is precisely why I think you should,” Soban had smiled.


Lenz had been the anchor to keep her from slipping - he had taught her so much about herself, that she had patience, that she could apologize for her sour moods.  Without that experience she could never have completed the Trials to become Hamask...

Now he was gone.

“...And Justice to gain!” was her snarling addition as their blades locked again, Ari beginning to feel her own muscles, genehanced and infused with the Aether and Aertemisin as they were, weaken against the Nanite monstrosity.

Ari could not win with Brute Strength, or the Aether - she had to break Sora’s Will.

“For what, the Promenade Incident? No one will ever know who was responsible for killing your apprentice,”

“Everyone knows it was the vile Anzat!” Sora hissed in time to her strikes that sizzled on Ari’s twin blades
“You fight for a murderer, a traitor, despoiling the world that gave you sanctuary Aresaea K’aval” Ari’s name a curse of infinite spite upon Sora’s muzzle. Aresaea knew full well her father had by his obdurate commitment to his vision of the Vhal’Dan and prideful inability to back down once he had taken a stand, instigated and perpetuated this war, Kazics tactical skill had prolonged it. 

“I came to protect my parents, not judge them,”

Sora grunted as their lock blasted apart, both twisting round into defensive positions, Sora’s blade high, Ari crouched low.

“And those two lives are worth all atrocities, all the slaughter?” was Sora’s biting retort. 

For most species it would have struck guilt, shame, regret into the heart of the target, for an Aethan there was no question or doubt.

“Yes,” Ari replied resolute in her stare

Her duty as a daughter - to the cost of so many - was to defend her parents' lives. Aethan culture gave no consideration to the moral deficiencies and fatal mistakes that had put them in harm's way, no weight to the Outsiders that had to perish to secure that safety.

Sora could appreciate the lack of repentance.

“Will the Pain you feel, a life in a metal shell, be worth a moment of satisfaction if you win?” Ari countered as they stalked each other in a large circle, stalagmites laced with Kyber rising from the floor the only barrier between them.

“You protect two lives, I protect thousands,” Sora said defensively

“There is no Vhal’Dan left to save Sora,” Ari stated grimly. 

Sora could not disagree, the war had destroyed the Order she knew, whatever crawled choking on ash and blood from the ruins would not be the same.

“Something meaner, uglier,” Ari emphasised sensing the Hamasks surface thoughts
“Something Lenz would abhor and not worth your sacrifice,”

Sora quickly locked down her frothing feelings

“Lies, Deceptions!” she rushed at her again, nanite talons heralding her advance Ari’s saber wove as her lithe body bent between them, a few she cut, more she missed, a handful stabbed into her, the Saber staff came down like an avalanche, in four blows with the strength to cut a hover car in two - three Ari blocked or dodge, the last drove into her side -she kept her balance long enough to hurl a ball of Aether Fire into an opening near the Lasat’s throat.

Sora roared as the eldritch energy burnt a temporarily exposed piece of skin before the nanites returned back form their extended limbs to cover her flesh fully.

“I understand,” Ari said as she used the small break to flip backward.

“You’re not afraid of the pain, don’t care about the Vhal’Dan because you don’t intend to live past today.  You’ll fulfill your final mission, preserve the honour of the Hamask, die in the process like you think you should have with Lenz.  All that Dark strength came too late to save him.”


The rage boiled over as the truth skewered Sora’s now artificially sustained heart

“LIES!”
With reckless fervour Sora hacked and slashed the glowing Aethan, grief powered lighting covering Sora’s false arms and saber, nullified or counter blasted by the shimmering Aether field around Ari as her Sabers blocked, each impact flaring white cold and lighting the cavern, the Kyber bouncing the light into a million tiny beams.

Sora pushed Ari further and further back to the last solid connection between the ceiling and floor of the cavern, then with a final furious swirl bashed the Aethan into it. 

Ari crashed into the aged durasteel beams around the natural column, which cracked and groaned with the impact.

“Is this who Lenz idolized,” Ari coughed out in a whisper as Sora towered over her poised to ram her saber through the younger woman’s skull.

”Him?” Sora grunted as she looked over the balcony on the open air salle 

“He’s a bit of a prankster,” Soban nodded, glancing at the sour look on the Lasat’s face,
“But has a good heart,”

Sora leaned over the railing that wheezed under her full armoured weight, the only one in the leafy relaxed facility so heavily equipped in keeping with the dictum of the Hamask to always be fully prepared for absolute war.

The freckled blue eyed teen boy looked up to her, meeting her orange eyes.  He was the first, and only, of the Teidowans to dare match her gaze, all the others looked askance and bundled themselves against the grim intensity of her aura. 

He smiled at her then went back to his kata’s.


The image lingered in Sora’s mind as Ari’s hand hovered beside the Lasat’s temple - purple rivulets running into the Hamask’s mind.  Ari had needed to get her close, emotional, and break the last support in the cavern.

Every crash and shattering blow had been guided by Ari’s sonar and mass senses that allowed Aethans a detailed understanding of environments few species could match.  She knew where, and in what order to break the pillars that would bring the place crashing down on the otherwise unstoppable Lasat.

He sat on the lounge staring in horror as more reports of fighting came in through the Galtean Holo-Net. 

“I just don’t understand,” he whispered for the hundredth time on that balmy day at the promenade.

Sora could feel his fear, his confusion, three years ago she would’ve considered such weakness disgraceful.  But Lenz was teaching her how to remember humility, doubt, to not become a ‘Hammer’ that saw every situation as a ‘Nail’.

It finally twigged, she ought to comfort him.  Her heavy boots paced behind him, her thick hand settling on his seemingly doll like shoulder.  He was of course quite muscular for his age, but a reed next to a Wroshyr beside her.   But there it was, the importance of that difference, Lenz could bend in the storm, Sora could only resist and hope not to break. 

She was still learning

“This…is a…bad time…but the Order will…”

Flame and debris ended her fumbling words.

Darkness and weight pushed down on them, crushing, burning.  She fought, screamed and pushed against it with all her might.

“GO!” she called over and over as she took the worlds weight on her shoulders, body buckling and crying for relief that could never come until she knew Lenz was safe.

But there was his freckled face, blue eyes open wide, a trickle of blood from matted brown hair and a vacant gaze.

“GO!” She pleaded, she couldn’t take the strain much more


Ari did as Sora asked, sweeping under the Lasat and racing through the cavern leaving a trail of purple energy as the Spell died down.

“GO!!!” Sora yelled once more as an entire level of the Lus’Phor mines was held up by the Lone Lasat.

 The image of Lenz vanished into the dark glitter of the crystal caverns and Sora stared across the tops of the rocks and the glow of the Kyber to see Aresaea K’aval standing at a cracked, side leaning door frame on the far side, her hand upturned, purple Force energies flowing out and helping to prop up the collapsing ceiling.

Without regret or pause Air’s hand closed into a fist, telekinetic energy pushing the roof up now pulled it down.

Sora’s face fell as she realized the sick trick she had fallen for.

An avalanche of rock cut off Ari’s view of her an instant later.

Her power settling back to a less intense level Ari climbed up the tunnel as rocks filled the cavern behind her. 

She had been true to her word - having given Sora a chance to live at Sem’Piel, a mercy no other Aethan would have shown to the Hamask, a mercy Ari had to defend to Karintha directly afterwards, and would likely hear of it again in a softly spoken but grave tone from the Matriarch - but she would not offer another. 

More than any of the People, excepting her beloved Milaea, Ari had sympathy for the Outsiders, but it was limited to One favour or mercy, and One only. 

That she had decided was fair.   

If Sora survived the rockfall in some kinetically carved hollow, Ari would never know, indeed she hoped Sora finally got the death she had wanted to share with Lenz.

Only one moment of the whole sequence would trouble Ari again as she raced quietly to where her mother was being held.

Sora’s utter certainty Kazic had been responsible for the Promenade Incident.  Ari had never believed it, and yet - why not? - if he would set Aethans loose on his ‘brother’ Anson, why not bomb a civilian district?

It was in the moments just before Ari sliced the door to where Saani - who had managed to escape on her own - was waiting that Ari decided Kazic had used up his favour by using Ari’s protectiveness to benefit himself. 

She forgave that, but if he broke faith with her again.

One and only one

The door hisseed, the impending Doom of her parents and the Vhal’dan opened.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:16:28 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 3
The Mage and the Witch
Even without Sora, the Tribus was strong. 

There were injuries, fatigue, damage across every piece of legacy armour, flickering power cells on beskar breakers - but they still had the numbers and the will.

Barely had Aresaea slammed Sora out of the fight like a blazing comet than the Tribus swept to finish the remaining Shadow warriors. 

The Aethan women battered but standing responded harshly,  relief of being free from the raw intensity of the Hamasks threatening presence was buoyant.

In a flurry of lunge, lighting and laser they came together in a sweeping tight melee that pushed the reflexes and perception of every participant to the limit.

They were not fighting discrete battles of Triad Versus Aethn anymore, it was a vicious free or all, where Karintha would dive under a blow of Al-Marq, twist to position herself to stab Chimi, then be blocked by Ngyys, Lyaea hurled balls of concentrated lighting at Alfa, the energy dissipated mostly by Qaman’Xa’s counter blast, but the excess raining on Lil’Nern scorching his skin.


There was no respite, no pause, friendly fire was kept at bay by the precision of the Cataphract Battle-meld and Unity of the Aethan Group mind.


Claustrophobic and constant they fired, dodged, stabbed, kicked and crashed into each other - every time the Cataprhacts felt they had one pinned, a blow on their flank would force them to reposition.  Each Cataphract the Aethan thought would fall was lifted by their comrades and pushed on by their iron will.


The air rippled with Force energies as the Battle-meld and Groupmind seemed to manifest almost palpably around the concentration of warriors locked in constant combat, it pooled around Qaman’Xa and Karintha, the two constantly drawn to each other in the clash, knowing to take out the other would be a substantial coup.

Yorna and Lyaea tried to focus on the Stone-Skinned Mage, the first with daggers, the second her last Hades pistols - Alfa and Al-Marq intercepted them to their own cost as Karintha drove her knife held in a telekinetic fist into Al-Marqs side, the rest of the Clergy took advantage, ramming into Karintha’s back.

Advantage was illusionary, Lyaea rolled her last grenade into the fray, Kylista went to kick it but found it heavy as a boulder under Aethan gravity manipulation - a Malcia Hex sizzled the air and struck Chimi, forcing Lil’Nern to prop up his Primus - without help the Matriarch was able to turn on the Clergy swiftly blows devastating Bol-Nos as she shouldered Ngyys aside. 

For brief deadly moments the Kel-Dor Bol-Nos found himself one on one against the Aethan woman - moments was all she needed, her sword occupying his Beskar-breaker, she pushed into a high blade lock raising his arms up - superhuman dexterity then had her leap into a drop kick - too far to hit his chest but close enough for her feet to hit two Oblivion arrows previously lodged in his armour driving them in.

He slammed her off with a kinetic blast but the damage was done, Karintha returned to the swirl of combat immediately with Alfa coming to support, but Bol-Nos was staggering.

Al-Marq could read the signs as the first Cataphract of the Tribus fell to his knees, the poison powers of the Oblivion weapons burning the Kel-Dor organs with Force fire, a shift imperceptible to most occurred in the way the Shadow Warriors moved - they felt the sharp tang of success at last.

His Tribus was on the knife edge, they had been fighting for over thirty minutes without pause at an intensity beyond what any training could prepare them for. They were deep in the Force to supplement their biologically inferior reflexes and strength against the demi-god Shadows, power armour invariably non-functional, even in the constant motion he could see the slightly pained twitches in the exposed, cut and bruised faces.

More lighting blasted from the Shadows as if from infinite reserves, their swords kept the same pace as they had at the start of the fight, injuries the Cataphracts inflicted seemed to be shrugged off, the Aethans incapable of feeling pain had no need to draw on the force to suppress it as most species did.

Lil’Nern tossed his repeater aside, the weapon more liability depleted of energy and sparking in so many places it was more likely to blow up in his face than shoot straight, Alfa was still woozy from his stab wound, Kylista could barely see through her bruised puffy eyes.

Henslou had been dragged into the fight after Lyaea’s concentrated Aether Flames rendered his sniper rifle a molten mess - a switch she instantly regretted as the former blade-Master in training pressed her hard with his slim downed Beskar-Breaker that favored his more flowing style.

Increasingly Desperate for space Lyaea and Yorna both lit their Aether shields, Fire and Lighting respectively, the aura’s that usually ate into enemy skin lost to the ancient force calloused plate.

Qaman’xa and Chimi could feel in their wildly different yet equally spiritual senses a crux point coming in the fight.

[Rikard, I Repeat Rikard!]

It appeared in a form neither could anticipate, the call in their ear and auditory buds crystal clear over the din of battle.

The name of the first Kage of the then recent union of Vhal’Dan clans, Rikard was code for the Kage being in immediate mortal danger - a call every Cataphract was sworn to heed, a reference to he enormous wounds the Mighty First Kage had received from, it was believed with some conjecture, Darth Bane himself.

They didn’t let it break their stride, Alfa’s blade bounced off Karintha’s, Chimi took a blow on the shoulder for Kylista, but the Force did not lie, a critical point had come.

<Go. We will Abide> Qaman’Xa insisted directly into their minds.

Alfa stiffened at the thought, but was drawn to the call by unwavering adherence to orders.

<One last push!> Al’Marq thought back as more sounds came over the emergency frequency - the humm of a saber and the grunt of D’Aklon himself, then a static garbled hiss of uncharacteristic desperation from the Kage

”Help Me!”

Karintha smiled as the Group mind fed images to her of Valens manhandling the Kage - his knee shattering the weak human’s ribs -  momentary pride that the wrathful Cataprhact’s punished.

The Tribus fought for brief seconds with a renewed vigor, Alfa and Chimi cutting into Lyaea, Kylista and Al-Marq cornering Yorna for Henslou to stab at, Qaman’xa, Lil’Nern and Ngyys keeping Karintha’s blade and witchcraft in check.

But it was a fighting retreat, Corellian Cresh and Alfa’s Jenth peeled back when they could, firing what few projectiles and hurling what objects they could as they escaped into the tunnels to hone in on the Kages signal.

The damage inflicted in that last burst finally crumpled Lyaea, never fully healed from Sora’s first beating, Henslous’ opening shot to her head and the bashing since too much, her mind shutting down in self preservation. 

Yorna had expended even her above average draw on the aether, aura chaffed and sore, barely standing, her Lighting shield giving up as Henslou, last to leave put a final round in her breast.

It left Karintha against the half-blood Sith species Ngyys and the Stone Skinned Mage. 

The Matriarch felt worse than she looked - and in the reflection of the millions of shattered Kyber fragments around them she looked appalling - armoured more in her own blood than Oblivion plate, the fluid settling in cauterized gashed from the humming zweihanders all over her limbs, right elbow nearly cut through, left leg barely attached to her hip, one of her stomachs a cinder, numerous bones exposed to the marrow.



Stretching out one hand absent two fingers life energies were pulled from her fellow Aethan women in a cannibalistic display of Life Draining by the Aethan Matriarch, leaving Lyaea and Yorna with the barest of homeostatic stability. 

It could hardly heal the Matriarch, it could stabilise her.

<Such is not the Way of the Maker> Qaman’Xa condemned not the technique but the lack of compassion

Karintha sneered as she sprang forth, Ngyys responded quickly, but alone, severely injured, he lasted barely twenty seconds before Karintha’s Malacia cursed blade was in his neck.

The stone like Aing-Ti settled in a seating position - zhe had not come through unscathed, but zher biology was better able to hide the fact with an absence of visible hemolymph.

The Aethan took Energy from the dying Biological Sith, scraping and clawing each drop.

Qaman’Xa accepted the gift of energy from Ngyys spirit as it faded into the Force, highlighting the stark contrast between the two Metaphysical leaders of their sides.

Karithna strode forward more confident.

Qaman’xa was capable as any Cataphract in methods of physical combat - yet zhe remained seated. 

To throttle the Aethans enormous power Qaman’xa had sacrificed her own cells during the course of the battle, turning them to pure force energy to limit how much power Yorna could draw from the force - Yorna was able to draw more power faster than any other Aethan, channeled through Karintha’s peerless witchcrafting, and aimed with Lyaea’s utter precision the trio would certainly have inflicted twice the damage they had.

In addition to the wounds received in the fight it left zher body with little ability to engage a demi-god.

More importantly Qaman’xa was curious, wishing to learn about this strange creature.

A flashing moment that lasted an eternity- Karintha surged forward, aether blue cascading down her arm onto the tip of her blade that stopped a molecules width from between Qaman’Xa’s large unblinking glassy eyes.

The Matriarch was standing in a vast, endless expanse of black, the Aing-Tii several meters away.

Both were utterly unclothed, whole and uninjured.

“What is this…” Karintha wondered at the illusion.  The vast emptiness around her offered no clues, and her senses met only an alien jumble of semi-familair psychic and telepathic powers.

“...I won’t be deceived….”

“Deception is not intended, only truth resides here,” Qaman’xa explained in a voice that was not a voice but pure meaning

“You’re delaying your death…” Karintha discerned “...you’ve lost,” the Matriarch knew the Aing-Tii for all zher mage like trickery could not keep an Aethan mind captive for long, even the mighty Sith Lucovis and Vectivus had held the Aethans on Ord Mirit with their Terror Bomb for only thrity standard seconds.     

“There is No Victory, No defeat. Only the Force,”

Karintha offered a snide smile as if she knew more about the Force than the Aing-Tii.  Qaman'xa conceded Karintha knew many ‘Powers’, but understood only certain Colours within the Great Rainbow. 

“When this One was forming this One was expelled,” the Aing’Tii explained an image of yellows and greens forming before the beige plates of the Stone Skinned mage

“This One heard of the Chains on the Flesh Ones, This One could not Retract into Somnolence without such thought.  This One Sought with glee the Takers and the Abusers - like those that Devastated your World,”

Images of Hutts and their slaver lackeys raiding countless worlds appeared, their effort stymied by Qaman’Xa.

“This One was lesser than the greatness of the Evil…”

The next image showed thick powerful beings Karintha recognised as Gen’Dai set against the Aing-Tii.  Gen’Dai were a danger even to Aethans, it was unsurprising they injured Qaman’Xa brutally, the stone skinned creature barely escaping into a pod on the slaver ship that hurled into the Macrol Void.

“This One had much Thread to consider.”

Time passed -  much time - floating in the empty Void.

“The Colours realigned to Hues of Blue and White, The Painter they say was guiding,”

The yellow and green of the Aing’Tiis image flared in a ‘teleportation’ to a nearby ship that was white and blue - A Vhal’Dan vessel - on board a resolute strong figure whose name and nature was trickled into Karintha’s mind . 

Vilhyn Soban.  His own ship had malfunctioned, temporarily spinning in the void.

He thought the Aing-Tii at first a hallucination as he succumbed to low oxygen as the filters broke down, they discussed their imminent demise - they would join Those Beyond the veil soon zhe said.  Soban laughed, perhaps Vahl, or the Maker as the Vhal’Dan called the Vast of Those Beyond the Veil had brought them together so they didn’t journey into the Next Realm alone.

Instead a rescue party found the pair, and in zher gratitude and curiosity Qaman’Xa joined the Vhal’Dan, Soban’s support all but guaranteeing her place in the Cataphracts where she could fight many who opposed the Way of the Vast Beyond the Veil that Was the Maker.

“What is the point of this,” Karintha rolled her eyes, arms crossed.

“This One believed a Right to destroy others, Those who opposed the Will of Maker Yes.  Solitude Failed, Unity through understanding and Good Cheer succeeded, this is the Way of Maker.” Qaman’xa replied typical Aing-Tii half comprehend dictums

“This One Ponders before she Travels Beyond the Veil why The Three Who are You think they have Right to this Destruction.  Can they seek Peace, reconciliation - Learn Understanding?”

Karintha took it to mean ‘why did the Goddesses of Aethas think they had a right to destroy the Vhal’Dan, and would they ever come to an accord with Outsiders’. 

What the Aing-Tii could possibly hope to gain from her answer was beyond Karintha’s comprehension - the minds of these Alien outsiders were truly beyond rationality and reason. 

“We are People,” Karintha replied bluntly
“We do not ask permission, we never seek forgiveness,”

Qaman’Xa’s head tilted in the infinite metaphysical plane across which their minds met in pure sincerity.  Zhe saw truly the one that opposed, the unadorned physical outer the mechanisms of a carefully but madly crafted genetic code, and the many colours of the River of the Force than enabled, emphasized and were sprung from it.

“This One Pities you.  Those that Crafted the Pattern That Formed Your Bodies-Mind knew what they did  - left you unable to grow beyond what you are, or understand past ‘Us and Them’.  This Saddens This One.  This Saddens All Within the Veil.”

Karintha made not a single motion ignoring the incoherent ravings of the creature - proving fully Qaman’xa’s pity was justified.

The edifice Qaman’xa had forged to try and reach out to Karintha crumbled in a liquid flare of blinding white light.


The crackling lighting covered blade passed through empty space as the Aing-Tii vanished into the Force with a brief glow of White, the Cataphract Armour she had worn clattering to the ground.

Karintha snapped around seeking where the creature had Teleported too, witnessing the incomprehensible. 

The Hovering white outline of the alien monstrosity over Yorna and Lyaea, undeserved charity flowing healing energy to the pair in Qaman’xa’s last effort to try and Build Understanding that zhe had gained in her time this side of the Veil to those who never could.

The act after zher transformation that earned zher transition into the Force. 

As Lyaea and Yorna struggled up Karintha briefly contemplated what she had just witnessed, tried to rationalise and fit it into the incredibly complex but unalterably rigid Aethan Frame of Reference.  Failing she abandoned the task as further evidence of Outsider insanity.

Her senses fully returning she felt the nearness of D’Aklon’s defeat.

Helping her blood and adoptive nieces up they began the race to the space port where in that very moment Anson D’Aklon and Valens came together in righteous and daemonic fury.

[center<<<<>>>>[/center]

See Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War 26 through 27 for Further events during the Battle of Lus’Phor and the Continuation.

[center<<<<>>>>[/center]

“He’s moving,” Chimi asped as they ran at the pace of a drunken crawl, she was at the front mainly as she had no leg injuries, Lil’Nenr brought up the rear of the slow caravan, vomiting blood on al’Marqs shoulder.

The last functional Navigator-Slate showed the Kages position nearing at last after an invisible game of cat and mouse - he was being moved away quickly and seemingly with intent to avoid certain areas.

Kylista suddenly stumbled, Henslou tried to pull her up - she screamed as his grip only stabbed the  Kyber fragments telekinetically hurled into her skin deeper.

By the Great Spirit, Chimi doubted they could do anything even if they did reach the Kage.

Their presence alone though, that was something she reminded herself.

All this was part of the Great Plan, it had to be.

They pushed on, a trail of blood and soiled bacta behind them till the Kage’s signal died.

“Dammit where!”

The darkness of the tunnel ahead lit with a silver blade.

“Who goes there!” the voice demanded

Alfa stepped up

“Silver Knight Alfalex Nåj Withstr, Triad Jenth…accompani…” he paused suddenly feeling extremely nauseous, trickles of bile dripping from his muzzle.

“Accompanied by Maenowan Chimi-Mal Wel and….”

“That’s enough…” the figure stepped forward, a tall, dark-haired woman with a bacta-brace on her leg. 

“I am Silver Inyak Zolor…she moved her saber in the dark to light her two companions,  a short, stocky red-haired man holding what appeared to be a bleeding broken corpse.

Only narrowing his precise Togrutan vision did Henslou recognise the figure beneath the lacerations and thick bruising.

“...and this is the Kage - we need to leave,”

<<<<>>>>

See Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War 28 for subsequent related events.
15 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:18:59 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 4
>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<

A flare of red appeared on Ya’qul’s HUD signalling distress from Triad Esk further in Hephaestus Base.

Three Shadow warriors they had defeated lay stripped of helmets and under suits around the neck, limp forms placed on an upturned desk that would serve as the chopping block.


[Go...we’ll finish here] Midge growled weakly, absent right arm wound looking septic as Linella adjusted the settings on her Zweihander to a short concentrated energy blade to cut dense Aethan necks.

Ya’qul raced through into the dark corridor, lumens flickering intermittently.

Linella stood over the most dangerous Shadow warrior who had cut off Midges arm and slain Inji.

Her Blade came down swiftly into Taran’s neck, sizzling off hyper keratin, into bone, the Zeltron Cataphract grunting to push through the unexpected skeletal configuration.

A contingency, installed by the Witch Queen Lykana of Dathomir into her enslaved Varagnian, enhanced by Taran’s wife - not so proud as to deny Lykana’s genius - activated as the Beskar breaker burnt into the flesh of Taran’s neck.

[Linella…] Midge huffed out, leaning on a large cracked tube vat that had spilled its greyish liquid contents over the floor, wookie pointed to red tendrils of energy seeping from their fallen brethren - wounds Linella cauterized seconds before sealed back together.

Taran’s eyes opened pallid and soulless.

A Beskar breaker in his neck he pushed off his execution block powered by necrotic energy with the stiff gait of the undead. 

Linella pushed harder into the neck that was healing around the saber blade till a rictus fist gripped her wrists and crushed.

Beneath the joints in her armour the bones of her wrist were pulped by the immense strength of the Aethan, her beskar-breaker flopping out the side of the neck that ate up lingering life energies from the unnaturally fast decomposing Arrbis and Tassk, then began to pull from Linella - the Zeltrons slightly plump sweaty covered face withering and drying as the Life Drain aged her unnaturally.

[Draugr!] Midge roared saber blazing, slashing at the vile things arms to free Linella.  Neurons repaired as Dathomiri Life drain powers supplemented Aethan Shatterpoint healing,  Taran regaining a base instinct to kill and survive.

Midge locked the Aethan Guardian once more, Taran summoning back his claymore to parry, the wookie though ill, but would not be found wanting, Linella panting stabbed again, Taran insensitive to punishment.

With each pass and clash Taran regained more sentience, the Cataphracts weary bodies wilting even more. 

<<<<>>>>

Ya’Qul spun past the vast transparisteel windows that gazed on inky black of the deep ocean trenches and reflected the war scarred corridors just as the first arrows struck Ravra’s saber.

The Cathar cut through three, dodged four - two needled into her sending plasma bursts from the ablative plate.  The arrows missed wound round under telekinetic control as Jenaea and Adaea rushed her, inner hands clasped, outer hands open.

The air split with a thunderous crack as a concentrated single wave of Lighting shot from the pair straight into the braced Primus.

The legacy armour force callous took much - not all - of the energy.

Ya’qul snapped to crouch firing at the Aethans, Rana leapt off Evaea to get at the fiends who dared attack their adoptive brood mother.

It allowed Evaea to kick Rena off.  She had taken a beating, armour stripped, claws and teeth punctures across her body glove, cauterized gashes on every limb - only her aetheric stamina preserved. The Barabel was quick to grasp at her again - Evaea was even quicker to slip into the Cloak of Shadow. 

Full invisibility so close was impossible - rapid motion and the distortion enough.

Leaping over the swinging tail, twisting under the crackling zweihander Evaea thrust her Phase Sword into the Barabels side, temporarily pure Aether weapon crunching against the Cataphract Armours Force Resistance then reverting to physical blade in the Reptilians side.

The hissing Cataphract clawed, Evaea detonated a kinetic bomb to send them flying part.
Ravra rose smoke pouring from her joints to block another arrow - Jenaea and Adaea kept their distance, teleporting arrows firing over and over, Ya’qul taking careful shots at the pair who darted between columns.

Gripping a lodged arrow a realisation across the Battle-meld from Lus’Phor where Lil’Nern had caught arrows in his own armour triggered in Ravra’s mind.

“Let them Hit you! They can’t teleport back!”

Ya’Qul and Rana skidded into the path of the arrows immediately, taking hits that scraped over thicker plates but still stuck, denying the Aethans their ammunition one by one.

Evaea swept low to recover some of her lost weapons,  focused on success, no move was too desperate.  Barely in her hand she hurled her last magma mine at the wall.

The World slowed as Ya’Qul stared at the device that mag locked to a section that had an abundance of laser burns and bullet holes. 

“Ru…..”

<<<<>>>>

Immovable Taran held off the two Cataphracts, mind clearing, body breaking, only the Vhal’Dan were flagging faster. 

Midge’s Howl mere whimper, Linella’s armour auto-med systems depleted of bacta.

Staunch, Taran watched for the moment one of the made a slip - rot consuming his body Midge was first, his one handed riposte not strong enough, the wookies blood covered paw slipped on the beskar breaker hilt - Taran shouldered the wookie hard as he could ramming him into near cabinet of vials.

Glass and chemicals shattered over the wookie as Taran deflected Linella then rammed Midge into the wall through the cabinet again. 

And Again. 

And again.

The wookie bounced in his own armour breaking bones with each collision. Linella took advantage, spearing her saber straight at Taran’s face, the blade only partially avoided cutting along the comparatively undamaged right side to sear along the temple and burn his eye.

The Aethan drove his sword into her leg, the battered blade lodged in the thigh plate firmer than he could pull out, he resorted to beating her with raw bleeding knuckles as Midge slumped behind him.

Aiming for her bacta covered exposed wounds he inflicted maximum pain in minimum time before kneeing her chin as she staggered down, her head snapping back.

Everything was bloodshot and spinning, Taran moved by guidance of scent and thermal signature to grip the neck line of his fellow Aethnas dragging them away leaving the Cataphracts broken barely alive behind him, a primitive instruction to join the females all he needed.

Step after step he went on his numb march arriving to hear Ya’qul’s cry

“Runnnn…” 

Evaea’s magma mine detonated, breaching the outer wall of the base, pressurized ice water blasting inward.

Like a mag train it slammed into the Cataphracts, tumbling them over and over till they could grip to some structure, Force mustered to keep them from washing away, waiting for emergency shields to activate and seal the breach.

Ya’Qul pushed through the thick waters, grabbing Ravra’s in one hand, Rena with the other, their suits long since compromised and blast doors around them all felt the concrete like impact of the deep oceans pressurized water.

Aethans didn’t need to breathe for hours. genengineered honeycomb like fat-cell-insulation coped easily in conditions of  -150 to +200 degrees celsius and vastly highly pressure than even the deep ocean.

Guided by the Group mind Adaea hacked at the projectors on the outer of the base denying emergency shields, Evaea and Jenaea swimming silent and fast as Taran hurled the two mens limp forms to Adaea.

Bobbing for air with a gasp Ya’qul felt his foot grabbed and dragged down.

Dagger and knives glinted in red emergency lighting as Aethans sought to drown them.

Bubbles belched on Beskar-breaker blades that struck back at them.  Tails and claws had their impact drastically diminished by the dense water before they struck.

Four on Four they grappled, grabbed, dragged and cut.  Evaea rounded the increasingly blue faced Ya’qul, the stern Primus managing to stab her in the breast, Taran hammered his fist into the wound Evaea had inflicted on Rana, the Barabel trying to swim up and round on his head to twist it off.

Ravra swung slow motion arcs at Adaea who plunged beneath her rising up to put a blade at the gap under her thigh, slicing in deep and through, Rena found more success against Jenaea managing to get her in the corner between ceiling and wall, hacking at her repeatedly with nowhere to run.

A surge of icy cold current upended them all into a rough ball, brawling with blades and breakers. 

Clouds of blood wafted in the melee making visibility even worse 

Force Breath control stilled the desperation of the Vhal’Dans need for air, but the extertion of the fight, cold and pressure of the water was unendurable.

Yet the Shadows seemed to be slipping out.  In breaks of combat brought by shikkar stabs they slipped out into the ocean waves where their extraction was waiting for them.

Adaea, Jenaea and Evaea linked in a chain to push the dying and arguably dead Maeson, Evyn and Kassyndra out then leave themselves as Taran, his full post second puberty adult body far more durable kept the pressure on the Vhal’Dan before leaving to a crushing grave.

<<<<<>>>>

Gasps, then retching followed on the wet deck of the transport.

Nyaea cradled Evyn tightly, Oran hummed his odd rhythm based healing into Maeson and Kassyndra. 

The young pair of healers had come quickly as the operating soured, no longer a pick up it was now a rescue.

The three most injured, Maeson, Evyn and Kassyndra were stabilised swiftly.

Evaea was badly beaten all over but had aether stamina, Taran looked more dead than alive but stood immoveable soaking healing energies passively, Adaea relatively unscathed as she arrived late, Jenaea suffered more from Ravra’s blade and Ya’quls bullets than she had thought in the numb haze of battle.


Focusing solely on rapid healing to functional areas, her face a patchwork of red and blue-black, Evaea was still determined to fulfil the mission.


“We need to dock as planned, recover the Orbs with the scientists,” she stated directly. They could not allow the Memory eating orbs left with their victims to fall into enemy hands. 

“You want to go back in there!” Jenaea blasted exasperated
“We have to get the orbs,” Kassyndra struggled to affirm with half her face a pink melted mess.

“And if there are more of those goons we’re dead, we can’t fight any more” Jenaea would not be dissuaded

“I can,” Taran rasped more than spoke, the pulse of battle drawing out memories of fights for a false Queen against Rancors and Witches.

“I’ve endured worse,”

“If we all go together….” Oran suggested
“Nya and I can help a little, even if just keeping the healing energies flowing,”

The pair were not yet trained, but even native Aethan talent would overcome regular troops or a Teidowan - and their rifles and arrows were just as effective as anyones against Cataphracts.

But if there was another fresh Triad they would be routed.

Evaea considered what Karintha would do, balancing the strategic goals of the scientists' memories and research against the need to preserve all lives of their small tribe.

“Very well,” Evaea ordered, “Nine Minutes then we dock, drain all bacta and nutri-paste you can and re-arm,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:21:03 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 5
>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<
Druasteel encased him, crush every inch of his skin inward with a cold fist.

In the dim red lights Ya’qul could just make out one of the Barabels, their exothermic bodies quickly failing in the cold leaving the once hearty reptilians twitching.

His breath was still from the force, the last few molecules of oxygen from a breath over 8 minutes ago hovering in his lungs which ached to expel building carbon dioxide.

If he did he knew the pressurized water would rush past the kinetic barrier he held himself in and kill him that much faster.

Sheer spite toward the Shadows meant he would hold on as long as he could.

Bubbles erupted in his vision, claws dug into his skin as he was swept through the dark, then in a painful birth into the air and white light.

Gasping and spewing water, Midge left Ya’qul beside Ravra to go in again.

Through the hole in the blast door he had cut with his saber, and past the emergency pressure shield that kept the water flooding in, he had to tweak it to allow heat signatures to pass through, each time gushing in a wave of water.

The last two trips to grab the Barabel twins were the worst, they were further away, the currents washing them out, and his fur was rapping the cold to his skin.

Finally dumping the last body to the ground Midge collapsed beside them as they came to their senses slowly.

“Midge…” The Cathar gurgled nose and throat still filled with water, her body feeling like it wanted to explode out of its skin after so long forced in by the pressure, the salt of the ocean burning her wounds.

Yet the wookie looked far worse, one arm, a blue tinge beneath wet fur, sickly rot around his nose and cuts.

She crawled slow and heavy over to him, placing a hand on his chest and bowing her head in her best recollection of a Wookie gesture of immense gratitude.

“Ostooloruu…” she addressed him by his name “...how did you…”

[Kin…] he scratched best as he could, the single word the How, the Why, the Everything between them.

Ya’qul struggling up looked on the scene, hot tears broke the ice water down his cheeks.

Midge gripped Ravra’s hand with the only one he had left

[Cannot...go on...Failed….]

“No...no, Osto, never,” Ravra comforted, stroking his mane exuding a mothers consoling calm.

“Your strength, courage, nobility makes you tall as any Triarch,” her attested smile was marred by cuts around her muzzle that made Midge guffaw.

“Rest, now - a healing trance….” she insisted gently pushing his aura toward that end, one last time Midge squeezed her hand as Ya’Qul bit back a scream of sorrow.

[Kin…] he finished before his eyes closed.

Had Midge entered such a trance before, he might well have lived, but after exposing himself to save them….

Ya’qul indulged one more moment of immediate grief as Ravra gently arranged the Wookie in a more comfortable position seated against the wall, hand clasped on his beskar breaker that would be passed down infused with a new tale of heroism and sacrifice for the next bearer to admire and aspire to.

The Soldier stood back up slightly unsteady on his feet, resyncing what was left of his HUD with the security feeds.

“This isn’t over.”

<<<<>>>>


Evaea took point as they cut through the empty halls to the Atrium, focused on salvaging something, arriving swiftly to find the scientists they had left now all unconscious or murmuring insanities on the floor. 

Dozens of Memory orbs weighty with knowledge lay before them.

“Be careful!” Nyaea insisted of her unofficially official suitor Evyn as the boy tried to lift a box containing nine of them.

Maeson and Jenaea patrolled the balconies with rifle and bow, Taran stood in the rough center of the manicured lawns and small gardens surrounded by food carts and slumped bodies like a statue, eyes glowering forward, mind sharply keeping track of all the younger ones around him.

They moved quickly summoning the orbs into the crates and lifting them more by aether than muscle, gathering up all 36 and arming the Naquadha bomb intended to cover their tracks permanently denying the Vhal’Dan any scrap of the research here and their best scientific minds.

For a fleeting moment Evaea felt a sense of relief, they had taken severe injuries, been denied a number of valuable prototype devices, but they had something to show for….

The soft all too familiar thvump of magnetically accelerated diamond bore bullets in energised fields shattered the moment.

The crash and stomp of Cataphracts boots along with the air whistle of thick muscled tails had her face fall as she snapped round.

“No, No, NO!”

Yaqul and Linella unleashed from the blast door to Micro-Engineering, sending Adaea and Oran scrambling for cover, the young male taking at least one hit.

Ravra and the Barabels - warmed back by a stop over at the Geo-Thermal vents - slammed into the ground from running leaps Beskar Breakers first - Rena slashed straight into Kassyndra’s hastily drawn sword, Ravra crashed into Evyn’s back all but crushing him.

Taran held the line for the Tribe, catching Rana as she fell in his heavy grip, taking her momentum into a swing and hurling her into a column that smashed to chunks of ferrocrete.

In barely a second the Atrium exploded into desperate vicious fighting.

Maeson and Jenaea provided covering fire, Ya’qul wielding a massive Sulen Gauss rifle in each hand switched to full automatic and blasted Jenaea’s balcony cover, Rena beating into Kassyndra, Rana quickly up and lunging back at Taran, Linella hurling grenades at Adaea.

Evaea sprung quick and determined straight for Ya’qul as the others settled into vicious fighting that was shredding the Atrium up.

Ya’qul eyed the marred beauty of the enemy leader and poured every shot he had at her - Taryn’s moniker of Silky for her never more apt she glided between them - but barely healed ligaments quickly re-tore and shots began to hit true knocking her out of the air.

Crawling instead of gliding her best chance was to narrow the gap - Ya’quls power armour damaged, body and mind exhausted he wouldn’t last long against her. 

Jenaea dropped from the Balcony firing her last three arrows into Linella, the Zeltron responded point blank into the Aethans breast, they crashed together, Linella lanced by two arrows on her left, one had pierced a lung.

Ravra’s eyes stung hot from the salt waters mixed with tears as she and Rena tore at Oran, Evyn, Kassyndra and Adaea, crunching the weakened Shadows more and more, their nefarious black orbs denting the floor as they spilt to the ground.  Her Zweihander slammed first into Oran, cracking his helmet open, Rena driving her blade into his chest - armour only just keeping his heart protected.

Ravra followed through at Kassyndra, the grandmother locking the Cathar clan mother through a quick series of clashes, till taking advantage of the Aethans grossly burnt left side Ravra slammed her to ground and curb stomped her twice in the head.

Adaea was next, torn at by Rena, out of ammo Maeson leapt down to protect the younger ones, the two Aethans making a drastic mistake trying to fight a furious Barabel hand to hand, the cold blooded creature had suffered immensely in the ice water, but nerve frost damage left her utterly insensitive to any blade or fist they got in - in the tangle of limbs, lightsaber and lunging she overcame the two of them for a moment.

Evyn was barely moving, Nyaea shaking him frantically.

Evaea finally reached Ya’qul, the old Soldiers ammunition expended anyway, he cast the heavy Sulen rifles aside and activated his Saber Gauntlets.

Both squad leaders as injured the other - Ya’qul having taken so many cuts in the underwater melee they defied counting , Evaea beaten bloody by the barabels - both intent on ending the other. 

Evaea’s remaining sword was swift, Ya’quls gauntlets fast and unexpected.  They drove each other hard and fast, within moments both flagging from the weight of injuries, united in frustration at slow movements of damaged bodies.

Evaea cut one gauntlet open, Ya’qul pushed it into her face as the power cell burst, then drove the other into her hip, she put her sword into his shoulder and twisted. 

Linella thurst her saber bayonet into Jenaea’s side, the Aethan clawed at the Zeltrons exposed face taking off two thirds, Maeson boxed with Ravra unsuccessfully, the Cathar taking advantage of the wounded Aethan to outmaneuver him - he elbowed her in the ribs with a wet crack and she could feel the loosening of organs within, but she drove her zweihander through his shoulder and half his torso.

The former Varagian, like an avalanche pummelled Rana, breaking both the Barabels legs with his mercilessly stomps then swinging down with his Claymore to finish her - once loosed he would help Evaea and Jenaea finish Ya’qul and Linella, then the Cathar and last Reptile would tumble.

The broken cursed blade swung down amidst the endless shrieks, thump of fists and wet spray of blood, interrupted by an ethereal Howl bellowed from a throatless voice.

Far below, a prone Wookie whose body was still apart from eyes jittering beneath heavy lids exhaled the last of his spirit, manifesting his Will to appear with his Kin one last time.

A flash of Blue and white accompanied the Wookie Warrior Howl in the Atrium, Ostooloruu Wuurich stood whole and strong before Taran and caught Claymore in an-anti physical paw.

Ya’qul and Ravra sensing their friend stared briefly mesmerized by the spirit. 

The Claymore in his right ‘hand’ Midge punched Taran with his left, ending the duel they had begun from the grave as he vanished into embers of white-blue on the muggy blood misted air, his spirit rejoining the Great Forest content.

The Metaphysical strike left Taran physically unmoved, but his aura stunned enough for Rana to lunge back at him, broken teeth fully bared and bite into his neck crashing him for the last time, Lykana and Karintha’s emergency revival mechanisms expended at last.

Jenaea thrust her bow into Linella breast wound and through her back ending the Zeltron, Ya’qul was wearing quickly against Evaea, overall the Cataphracts were buoyed by Midge’s miracle apparition.

Ravra was unstoppable, Kassynra, Oran and Maeson now bashed down, while Rena had Adaea all but pinned.  The Cathar Primus turned on the last pair, a staggering male and female trying to ferry him away.

Nyaea protectively cradled Evyn, pushed him behind as Ravra’s beskar-breaker came down.

“NO!” Nyaea cried in desperation, hurling her helmet aside and spreading her arms to protect Evyn.

Ravra stopped dead mid slash, fatigued arms holding the blade over her head as she looked at the child she had been about to kill. 

All Ravra had seen of the Shadows under the Oblivion were bloodied bruised faces - now she saw an immaculate human girl, alabaster skin framed by red tinged blonde hair, barely 16 names days old - a child soldier - the maternal heart that beat in her breast seized at the thought she had been about to cut down a child of an age with her own cubs.

That heart, the empathetic warmth of the Cataphracts, was now skewered as Evyn darted round the Primus and drove his blade through her spine, into her heart, out between her breasts, Nyaea’s distraught face switching to a cold grin of triumph as Ravra collapsed.

In an act of snide murder the Aethans cut out the Heart of the Cataphracts.

Fury flooded Ya’qul, Rana and Rena, the emotions drew in darker currents of the Force filling their tired limbs with renewed bloody vigour to enact vengeance for the heartless trickery that killed the most compassionate Cataphract.

Taran gone, the others critically injured and the Cataphracts resurgent, the Aethans were seconds from utter defeat.

<<<<>>>>

5 Seconds Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:22:13 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 6
Soban
It was like hitting a doonium slab. 

Sobans fist connected with the Aethans face but it stopped dead on the dense skin and seemingly diamond hard bone.

Worse was that he could feel it.

Heaving with each motion they were both now divested of much of their upper body armour, staring face to face eye to eye as they grappled. 

As Soban’s body exerted itself, as the blood pumped through muscles and to his heart and back more and more of the anesthetics were diluted and dissolved, the power armour intravenous system had been severed, the thin clear plas tube squirting its milky saline solution to the floor by Soban’s immovable feet.

His arm was snapped back by Melrons upward counter and the Aethan fist slammed into Soban’s chest sending him reeling and the wind gusting out of him despite the thick plating.

Soban struck back with a knee, the motion in his weary atrophied hips excruciating, but enough to get the Aethan off him for a moment.

It was all a warrior could want.

The intoxication of adrenaline pumped through him with each clash, with every near miss he felt another peak.

Soban fought his best against the Aethan, his will and focus strong as ever….

But his body could not keep up.

The frustration began to consume him as he slowed, the blessing and curse of his overly muscled form wore him to dust.

Melron could feel in the lacklustre ripostes in the lethargic counters the weakness setting in.

“You don’t have to die here Vhal’Dan…” he offered gazing with shatterpoint vision at the Vahlan
“I can see what’s wrong with you...we can fix it...we could use a man like you,”

Soban offered a tight smile

“Temptation time is it,”

Melron backed off from their latest clash.

“You have nothing to gain dying here,”

There was too much truth to his word for Soban to ignore, and the aches across his body were intensifying with every moment, to the point he could no longer spare the mental energy to conceal his mind from probing.

“You turned to the Vhal’Dan against your Coven on Vahl, switched sides then, why not again?,”Melron extended his hand open and welcoming.

“The Vhal’Dan don’t have the power to give you back your youth, your strength, freedom from pain - we do,”

“And what new chains will I bear for it,” Soban asked, unable to hide the yearning for freedom from the incessant war with his own body.

“Only friendship,” Melron replied earnestly “and friends share the things they have learned over a long life,”

“It’s a shame…” Soban whispered as he reached to take the hand for friendship
“...that we met as enemies…”

Their hands clasped and Soban’s feet for the first time in several minutes switched sending tremors of aches through his body as he dragged the Aethan forward in a treacherous twist, his  Zweihander slicing the side of the Aethans face and into the shoulder before Melron could pull away.

Blood and charred flesh filled Melron’s vision as Soban growled his spirit strong enough to compensate for the weakness of his flesh.

“Age and treachery, Old Man,”

<<<<>>>>

Triad Forn and Leth
Water sprayed in pressurized jets beading on oiled armour before shut off valves cut the flow from flooding the ruined and cracked tiles.

Sonic pulses from the bath pulsed the mists from the broken sanisteam around the swirling limbs in the ruined Refreshers.

Tertius Nuuron of Tirad Leth struggled to get to his feet on the wet cracked opening that had been a wall between the refreshers and the Training salle.  The Shadow Warrior after nearly taking off his head with a Katana swipe had kicked him into and through the wall itself, Secundus Tenobe tried to take advantage, but found himself hurled upside down through the refreshers demolishing the pipes and fixtures along the way.

“...Quaff Muncher Shavit sniffing, dren dobbling….” their Primus Dexxel Behrn continued his rampage of expletives as he near stepped on Nuuron’s leg hacking at the Shadow warrior.

Zewihander crackling and hissing in the steam filled air as it smashed into the Katana that had taken a long line of flesh from Behrns cheek, but miraculously missed the eyes it had aimed for.

“Come on Whitey call that a hit,” Taryn grunted not beleiving his taunts as he pushed against the albino primus, Katana weaving swiftly out of Behrns attempt at a blade lock - the damn pasty faced Cataprhact had an edge in raw strength with his power armour that Taryn made up for with dexterity and reach.

Tenobe brushed chunks of ceramic and splodges of soaps from his gauntlets, water from broken pipes washing away carbon scoring from several dozen maser hits that were filling with dover catalyst - too many holes from Taryn’s hyper accuracy to fully repair, but the catalyst infill denied the Aethan ‘soft’ targets.

It had taken a tremendous effort to finally get the Hades pistols out of Taryns hands, Behrn and Nuuron bashing at him from both sides, Tenobe lining up with his multispecs integrate targeting into arm mounted cannons to blast the pistols mid air as taryn juggled them in his three weapon dance.

As Nuuron got to his feet Tenobe charged at Taryn from behind, his own weapons cut to pieces by the Katana that bled blue fire. Taryn spun under Behrns blade, a ball of kinetic into Tenobe - the Mirilan took the blast in his stride his Zweihander raised in a high Niman ‘Crane’ stance as Behrn locked Taryn back up again he struck.

The unnatural flexibility twisted Taryn’s tall form in ways that would break most humanoids spines - his blade bashing off Behrn’s lower strike, Tenobe’s Niman Leaping Crane hit into Taryn's shoulder, hissing against a crack in the pauldron Nuuron had made earlier perfectly, slicing through to cauterize skin and muscle before Taryn could twist out - and straight into Nuuron.

The Nautolon came at him with tight Soresu sweep grinding the Katanas length, at the last moment Taryn switch grip, the Katana falling slightly with a twist he cut into the vambrace adding Aether Flame energy - the blackstone ate into the vambrace, the ablative plasma cloud response countered by aether flame to ensure it kept cutting through to the forearm beneath. 

Cataphract plate could just withstand ultradense blackstone with an Aethans muscles powering it, humanoid flesh and bone could not, the Katana cut into the green skin and sinewy white muscles beneath, through the pink tinged bone.  Nuuron lost his grip, Taryn swaying in a circle beneath another slash from Tenobe and into a kick at Nuuron’s chest toppling him.

Behrn’s follow up prevented Taryn taking advantage, his Tertius left arm nonfunctional, Taryn would not be denied, a flare of raw power to set his Flame shield alight staggering Behrn and Tenobe back  for a brief moment.

Nuuron went forward, seizing a chance he knew would not come again, half his left arm danglinh he grabbed Taryn behind in a bear hug, undermining the intention of Taryn’s flame shield to give him room to move.

“Mynock mooching quim get the frell off!” Taryn snapped as he struggled, Nuuron drawing on all the strength he could to pin the Aethans arms to his sides and even slightly lift him up, servo’s clanking in the power armour.

“DO IT” Nuuron yelled, Tenobe first to respond quickly thumbed his Beskar-Breaker to full energy and lunged forward.

The Jade tip struck just below the Mark II Oblivion armour chest piece, squealing as it crackled into the Aethans torso. Taryn felt the cold cauterizing cut into his lower stomach, sizzling HydroChlor acids and symbiotic bacteria.

Behrn shortened his sabers blade length to go for the neck. Taryn’s Katana dropped from his hand and flew with his last two shikkars at the Primus, delaying the killing stroke even as Tenobe pushed deeper toward the spine through the Aethans dense organs and interstitial skeletal structure a-typical for human species.

The Flame shield was still pouring off Taryn, a Blaze as true as his former Pirate moniker, partially dulled by the Cataprhacts legacy Force Callous - it flowed up Tenobes Zweihander working through Nuuron’s exposed bleeding arm into his body.

Nuuon’s glassy black eyes went liquid as he felt his insides burn, his grip loosening and responsiveness to Taryn’s incessant squirming failing. 

Taryn lifted both feet and leaned back, kicking into Tenobes legs.  A single unit, Nuuron and Taryn dropped back just before Behrn’s blade could reach the neck, Tenobes saber blade sliding painfully out of Taryn just short of reaching the spine but leaving a smoking hole that smelt of charred meat.

Crashing his full weight onto Nuuron Taryn rolled off and summoned his Katana back to his hand to deflect Behrns’ blow straight at him, The Aethan’s lower stomach, second liver and third kidney, as well as abdominal muscles ruined, making a range of upper body motion impossible - short of decapitation little could overcome Aethan resilience.

Primus and Pirate fought with sharp, speedy blows over the dying body of Nuuron as Tenobe struggled to douse the eldritch flames infecting his own armour.

“Just a flesh wound!” Taryn gritted as he knocked back another blow rising however uncomfortably to his feet

Behrn snapped back “I’ll gut you like a Mega-Koi yet Kirff licker!”

With spite and at a severe cost to his already damaged mid section Taryn stopped down on Nuuron’s head, the helmet took the brunt but angry Aethan weight was enough to crack it inward, sharp pieces of metal stabbing into the already unconscious Nautolon’s face all but finishing him.

Tenobe’s blade met the Oblivion Katana once again, the cacophony of saber on sword ringing through the refresher rooms as Nautolon blood stained the once white tiles beneath their feet, the glassy sheen of the life giving fluid reflecting the glowing clashed above.

Taryn blasted flares of fire every chance, Tenobe suppressed pain with the Force but could not stop the sloughing off and damage to muscles beneath.

They Faltered, Behrn pushed to block, Taryn invested much of his remaining power in the blow the katana drove down Behrn’s blade and cut into Tenobe with its tip.  Taryn let go.  Behrn’s resistance caused his balde to fly up, the Katana spun off, Taryn leapt into Tenobe taking him to the ground and tearing off the damaged helmet.

Two headbutts before Behrn could force him off concussed the Secundus.

“FRAG you Bitch!”  Behrns yelled as he tried to cut the Aethan in two.  Katana flying back, it struck Behrn behind as Taryn rose, gripping Tenobe still humming Zweihander to clumsily but effectively slive into Behrns - the blades locked and twisted Berhn pressing the Aethan into the ground.

Taryn feinted releasing his grip, Bern wouldn’t be fooled twice more controlled in his grip, Taryn grinned as he poured precision lighting into a crack in the Beskar breaker he grippied.  Behrn pulled back too late as the aether lighting overloaded the power cell causing it to explode in both their faces- Taryn gambling he could endure better than the albino.

Hit beskar-breaker sputtering off, pink burns all over his face the Primus reached a new level of rage, leaping onto the Aethan who had underestimated the explosive effect.

“Rancor Frelling, Yoog screwing!!”

With vicious unrelenting strikes timed to expletives Behrn attempted to bash Taryns to death by hand.   

<<<<>>>>

Secundus Oolon gripped onto the haft of the Shadow Warriors Naginata, his long Gado digits wrapping several times around the malefic thing.

Lydan struggled to pry his weapon, aware the Primus and tertius were only temporarily delayed. Oolon clamped down, servos’ in his powered armour whining against the vast strength of the Aethan Shepherd, feeling through his long organ filled arms faux heat of Force enchantments.

The Naginata had been crafted by the savant like Adaea to serve her husband as a more ‘pointy’ substitute for his trusted Obirio wood shepherd's staff. 

Oolon felt the tingle of the aether fires flow into him, internal burns on the organs that resided largely within his limbs starting to itch as he wrestled with Lydan with all his strength,for three...four….Kalli come on!...five….

NOW he heard his primus through the battlefield and keeping his grip twisted with all the limber flexibility of his species to the side as far as he could.

A razor ball sized explosive prepped by Kallis’ demolition expertise and hurled with Tertius Jin’ba’s Telekinetic force slashed past Oolon and into Lydan’s chest sending him flying backward.

The large locker dented rather than broke as Lydan smashed into it back first near horizontal in the air as the kinetic wave died but the explosive it had carried with it triggered.

Triad Forn hunkered down and turned their back, Oolon still gripping the Naginata, as the miniaturized ‘Bunker Buster’ Primus Kall-jeq "Kalli" Masbes had built for this very occasion detonated.

Their helmet auto-visors polarised near fully black as the white-yellow light cast huge shadows in the armoury that the fight against the shadow had led them to through several ruined doorways and walls.

It would destroy Triad Aurek, Besh and Cresh, lockers, melting the Corellian collection of Syntha-pop Etch-discs - but to take out a Shadow they would surely forgive her.

The heat wave rapidly dissipated, they expected to see a charred corpse…

Lyadan stood heaving, hands wide and trembling as the wispy mirage of a kinetic bubble died down, he had contained most of the blast in a kinetite aether shell...at a significant cost to already half depleted aetheric stamina…

His Mark II armour still glowed  a dull red, body-glove partially melted against his skin, and the Blackstone would cool brittle and vulnerable.

Kalli offered a respectful grunt at the bastard's endurance. 
Oolon was dragged forward as Lydan summoned his Naginata back, the Gado using all his weight yet every second holding it caused more Force fire to flow into him, the Force Callous of his legacy armour staving off perhaps two thirds of it.

The Primus felt the pain her Secundus was suffering denying the enemy his weapon, she and Jin’ba raced to take advantage,  hails of micro missiles and marble sized explosive shot from her modified back mounted launcher heralding the attack.

Swiftly drawing his dagger Lydan shouldered through the smaller explosives that could barely cause him to sway, though still added to the cumulative damage on his armour, crouching low as Kalli swung for his neck, side stepping Jin’ba’s follow up.

Like a hunkered crustacean moving side to side he naivataged the ever shifting humming zweihander blades, slashing out with a backward grip where he could, dagger sparking against the legacy armour, dover catalyst filling the cracks. 

The Aethans had learned the hard way of the armours ablative plating and  self restorative ability - the first could be partially avoided by tempering the kinetic force of any impact below the plasma clouds threshold for counter detonation, the latter had to be ‘bled’ down with an array of mid sized gashes and breaks.

It was obvious what the Shadow was trying to do - wear them down, drain their dover catalyst supplies.

Lydan had not relented summoning his Naginata, Oolon’s feet dragged along the floor grinding gashes in the metal, the anti-outsider enchantment on the Oblivion weapon was working slowly but surely - Lydan sensed a weak link among the Triad.

He traded blows on his back and right shoulder to spin and twist out of the cage of Beskar-shattering blows Kalli and Jin’ba had tried to create, lunging out of their attack as if he were diving into a stream after a stray paddling gromin.

One hand out he kinetically wrenched his Naginata and the Secundus attached forward even harder while unleashing his dagger holding hand down like a guillotine to drive it straight into the top of Oolon’s helmet.

The Ablative plasma cloud burst and reduced the momentum by 75 per cent, the armour itself drained at least twenty more...but the tip of the dagger wielded by among the physically strongest of the aethans reached in by that marginal remainder to cut into the Gado’s skull.

Lydan landed and with both hands pushed the dagger depper, the Gado trembled not from resistance but frm capitulation Lydan let go and grabbed his Naginata back, spinning round - but not quite fast enough.

He came face to face with a Yellow blade to his face plate, Jin’ba’s talent for telekinesis enhancement doubling the sheer force to crack straight in. 

The Oblivion plate broke and spat as the beskar breaker cut through, the cauterizing heat searing of first the tip of Lydan’s nose, then into his face in a diagonal from his left forehead to right lower lip - eyelids closed just protecting his vision before he could throw the Tertius off with a raw blast of Aether whirlwind.

The Shepherd staggered back straight into Kalli’s blade which sputtered against his back armour, the Nautolon Pimus wrapped her arm round the young Aethans neck as she tried to breach the Oblivion armour.

By now he’d regained his Naginata and swung it in a furious wide arc to bash the Primus back however inelegantly. 

As she staggered back she saw Lydan’s main back armour plating drop off hissing and smoking beside her fallen secundus, purple-red blood pouring from Oolon’s helmet where a dagger remained forgotten and embedded.

It was then she noticed a trail of dark green blood from her own side, the Naginata had in that quick start managed to cut through the already damaged side of her armour, dense blade easily eating through her endoskeleton, not deep enough to reach any organs, she knew it would be the enemies main target.

fine by me she thought as Jin’ba’s blade locked with the Shadow Warrior once more.

She knew she would endure far worse than that little scratch to fulfil this mission.
And she would fulfil it.

[center<<<<>>>>[/center]



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:23:42 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 7
Triad Qek

The archives were a ruin, the dust on the ceiling breach had settled away from the fighting, the large compactor cabinets had mostly come down used as spring boards for Kiraea’s 300 kilo weight, chunks of detritus flew as random distractions under telekinetic guidances, rarely proving anything more than an irritance.

Only the cabinet containing the holocron precious to both sides was left untouched, the nonahedron hovering indifferently above its stand as the two sides drilled each other further into depletion.

No plate on the cataphracts was left without a blackstone blade scar, the Zweihanders reserve power cell had never been more valuable as it held off the ultradense weapons.  A number of their power armours servo’s and kinetic compensators were failing, each had a HUD filled with yellow and a few red indicators, the cross guards of their Zweihanders were nicked and hot from ceaseless impacts.

Outer layers of the Oblivion armour became brittle under the strikes of the Zweihanders, Tribal enchantments on their skin and armour were drained of their energy leaving the Aethan with just the power of their own aether connection and physical prowess.

Villados could see the strain her Triad was under, Eritae could only just hold the Metaphysical assault back, Alulat was reaching the end of even his extensive future flash stamina.

Blinding white core of flame left eldritch blue shadows as they burst from Kiraea’s hands, her swords moved as if wielded by a ghost, still striking against Balmung hard as if they were in her hands.

Villados could feel her joints crying for relief as she battered back blade after blade after blade.

Alulat nearby was hunkered and low behind his own beskar breaker trying to keep the aether flames from overwhelming him as he kept providing just enough future flashes to keep Villados able to fend the blades off, but the Katarr steel about his eyesless brow was beginning to tighten and burn like the strain in his force connection.

Ertiae ‘stomped’ and ‘severed’ the steady stream of psychological spikes sent at her Triad. 

Kiraea knew keeping up her three pronged attack one would break, and no matter which, she would win - if only just.  Superior though she was their numbers made a difference.

Outer layers of the Oblivion armour had become brittle under the strikes of the Zweihanders, Tribal enchantments on her skin drained of their energy leaving just substantial native power..

The Triad knew this as well.  If nothing changed one would slip and the others would fall - none of the three friends wanted to be the one to fail others.

Villados glanced off a blade aimed at her chipped armour, Alulat rolling out of the stream of aether fire, Eritae shifting her focus more fully to the physical world they changed the game.

The Primus jumped back near stumbling on fallen bookcases, her Secundus and Tertius flaring their beskar-breakers to life, dispensing with their more metaphysical skills to focus solely on battering the enemy down.

Kiraea’ blades quickly returned to her hands as two zweihanders sought to slice her, the Miraluka and Yashuvhi - in purely physical terms - relatively fresh bursts of speed and strength.  Villados took over the role of mental defense as best she could.

They were gambling the Shadow Warriors metaphysical attacks had diminished in intensity enough for Villados to take that role on.  To Kiraea’s irritation they were right.

Kiraea’s arms and fingers worked just as ceaselessly and precisely in chaining savage routines of stabs and slashes, legs continued to leap her around the fallen and still standing wooden shelves and library desk, knocking off holo-drives and datapads,  she was met by two blades deflecting and four feet moving - she could not physically grind down two of them, and she lacked the initial thrust of metaphysical strength to exploit Villados comparatively weaker mental defences.

Kiraea was no longer having fun.

Future flashes of bone melting and stomach churning pain filled Alulat’s head barely in time to  preemptively defend against Kiraea’s sudden blast of frustrated energy that took the form of a massive Malacia and Gravity manipulation attack.  Writhing tentacles of energy sought to upend the most basic of their homeostatic functions while the gravity in and around the room tripled - even for Cataphrats who trained under five times standard gravity the suddenness of the change was disorienting.

It gave Kiraea an instant, but narrow advantage to unleash at her opponents with the full array of her dexterity and reflexes.

The Secundus and Tertius moved as if in tar, trying to shield the gaps at their joints from the Oblivion blades, only the emergency setting on the hyper-tactile armour was saving their bodies now with automated responses across the power armour to avoid the worst impacts. 

It still left room for half a dozen cuts into shoulder, thigh, knee and elbow joints as Kiraea moved like a serrated shadow around the pair aiming to inflict a death by a dozen cuts, threads of blood followed the short swords as they plunged from one gap to the next.

By the time Gravity fully returned to normal, Kiraea’s own head feeling overly light from the exertion, the Cataphracts were cut up enough to be severely slowed.

Biting with sheer spite against the pain they hit back hard as they could, Beskar breakers shattering off pieces of the Oblivion armour Villados had damaged as the Primus herself rejoined them despite her own fatigue.

For a crucial fifteen seconds Triad Qek bashed Kiraea down as one, their battlemeld and careful positioning keeping her trapped, by the time her inhuman contortionist like acrobatic skill allowed her to escape she was rolling to put out the cauterizing cuts along her limbs, side and back, a saber burn across the top of her head through the damaged helmet have cooked off a good portion of her long red hair and cut into the scalp.

For genecrafted Aethans this level of physical exertion was sustainable, aether powers were raw and scratchy, but she could endure hours of such muscular exertion far better than the Kiffar, Miraluka and Yashuvhi. 

The Primus realised this as she saw her enemy, divested of more than half the Oblivion armour she had started with, and sporting dozens of saber wounds that would have any other humanoid catatonic in pain, stand and leer at the Triad.

The Shadow had narrowly won the war of attrition.  Their power armour was sparking and failing, dover catalyst all but depleted, connection to the Force utterly drained, they could barely telekinetically lift their own sabers without a shattering migraine let alone increase their speed and strength in already tremor filled limbs. 

Hand to hand, blade to blade without the Force, she knew they were no match against the demi-goddess in black who, now charged to inflict the coup de grace.

As if by sheer will their blade moed to block, feet to move over the rubble strewn ground - fighting for their lives brought a desperate second wind and intensity to the battle meld that exceeded anything they had ever known, for the failure of any one motion would mean death for all three against the ravenous creature whose frustrated growls intensified as the green Aethan eyes flashed furious aether blue.

Amidst the chaos of the battle, the knife edge of imminent death, Villados sent a chilling simple message to the other two thirds of Qek’s united mind.

<Run.>

<<<<>>>>

Lion and Beast

Blows that could not be counted hit with newtons that could barely be measured.

The Lion of the Vhal’Dan was a fortress of mental focus, wrapped in the Force to bring his speed, endurance and strength to a level that matched - and in some ferocious moments - exceeded the Wrath of the Goddesses.

Among a battle that in years to come would be remembered with shuddered for its viciousness, the battle between Nurhl and Jarys was the most ferocious.

Each was a mountain of strength that with blade, fist, knee, kinetite and psychic energy was trying to erode the other. 

The Seclusiam in which they fought was suffering most.

Intense beams of telekinetic energy sent the titanium bodies crashing into statues, unconnecting slashes cut columns into chunks, every saber and body block ended with a tension shockwave release that cracked the stone and pushed the dirt and dust deeper in gaps their weapons had cut.

The grand bronzed armour of the Triarch was a scratching post of gouges and gashes, edges half melted from Aether lighting, entire pieces sparking on the ground, mail weave beneath ragged as moth eaten cloth, the hardened muscle beneath exposed through singed fur.

The Oblivion armour of the Beast was equally ground down, body glove exposed in numerous places, pieces denting the floor where they fell.

Neither cared as they lunged against each other once more.

Blades slammed together in motions that could not be seen except for the white hot points of impact, and only heard as an unbroken chime of impacts.  The air crackled with Force energies as kinetic blow and counterblows were hurled in a tumbling even duel.  Monolithic Noble Will loomed against Animalistic Predation as minds pressed against each other on unseen planes.

Every motion was analysed for advantage, every step checked for potential weakness at the speed for pure reflex between the two masters of combat.

Nurhl gnashed his feline jaws in growls, slashing with his claws against hyperkeratin skin when he saw an opening, a satisfying jet of blood bursting out hot and steaming

Jarys throat rumbled in grunting anger as his iron like palm struck the Cathars shoulder with a wet crack.

Roaring the Triarch twisted, regripping Draundal with both hands and slamming his dislocated shoulder into the Aethan brutally to bash it back into the socket.

The Battlemeld and the Groupmind coalesced ever tighter around the as battles at Hephaestus Base and Lus’Phor ended, it only intensified their respective power as they became ever more pure conduits for the full force of the gestalts of Force energy.

Unconscious knowledge of the results of those battle flowed to their minds to be weaponized.

“Your Shadows fall beneath the Ocean and on the Moon!” the Trairch growled with triumph images of Ravra and Ya’quls exemplary physical endurance efforts mixed with Qaman’xa incredible mental suppression of the Witch-Matriarch

“Your Hamask is lost, Kage all but dead!” Jarys hissed back, knowing of Ari and Valens victory through the over mind,

“The War is OVER!” each syllable was emphasized with an earth shaking overhand blow of the Oblivion sword against Druandal’s golden fire.

Words that might dishearten a lesser warrior only lifted the Triarch who echoed the wisdom of Soban.

“Our Cause remains!” the Trairch bellowed back, taking the offensive with mid and low strikes of the beskar breaker pushing the Aethan back to the wall.

There was a greater conflict, beyond Ansonite and Traitor forces at play that the Cathar understood and the Aethan was ignorant of. 

It was the war between savagery and reason, tolerance and xenophobia, honour and bestiality, law and  - criminality, Self Awareness and Animal Instinct -  of That war Nurhl was a Champion, and the need for it to be fought neither ended nor increased if the Kage lived or died - for this was what the Vhal’Dan strived for, and the Call of the Cataphracts was to defend it.

Into a dangerous corner Jarys twisted his grip, releasing one hand, lunging to grab the Triarch, catching his shoulder Jarys used all his vast bulk as a counter weight to hurl the Cataphracts into the wall, smashing the statues of the Third Triarch.

The Cathar grabbed the Aethans arm in Turn while driving Durandal into the chest, throwing the Shadow Warrior into the wall beside him.

Over and over they grappled within inches of each others face - the Cathar using his longer muzzle to bite at the Aethans face where he could - slamming each other into the stone edge of the secularism, smashing into benches and plinths, their longer blades less useful so close they reverted to fists and dagger, the Triarchs Tremor-Dagger driving into the Aethans hip, the Oblivion blade inreturn cutting the Triarchs bicep open.

The injuries seemed irrelevant as what their bodies could not accomplish due to outright damage they supplemented with intrinsic kinetic powers.

Time seemed to warp around them, the fight seeming to have only just begun an instant before, yet lasting a hundred years.  Nurhl could feel the impact of countering and delivering blows to the superhuman Shadow in the constant pangs of pain through his body, each time suppressed by his indomitable Will.

Even Jarys felt the unusual sensation of actual fatigue in addition to image, the Cathars infinite focus seeming to translate to physical fortitude.

They punched, kicked, tore, stabbed, shredded, every move they knew and many they made up on the spot or copied from the other as they adapted on the fly to the other, each feeling the intensity of previous battles was a prelude to this final test.

Jarys had come far from his bestial rages in the pits of Nar-Shadda and the jungles of Myrkr. Finally able to connect with his daughter, embracing his role as husband to Kiraea, mentor to Ari and the younger Aethans had made him more than the ‘Beast’, a transition that flowed as thick and fast as blood in his veins into the living Wrath of the Goddesses that held all the primal rage  genecrafted biology could harness aimed with tactical precision.

Nurhls existed for the endless moment of battle, the Pride of the Pride of the Vhal’Dan.  Even as his body cried to stop his spirit relied with an adamantium ’never’.  Never would the bastion of all that was noble and true of the Vhal’Dan in that era relent against the antithesis of all he stood to uphold for something as trivial as splintered bones and torn muscle. 

The Triarchs Will became his body, stronger than any set of Legacy Armour, limbs that should be severed were held fast by loyalty, ribs that ought to crack fused by conviction.

Nurhl Båz Rahdde Lion of the Vhal’Dan was the immovable object protecting the Order from the unstoppable force of Jarys Wrath of the Goddesses.

The Aethan felt it, pushed against it - their very souls ground feral red against noble blue. 

They crashed like stars over and over, every statue about them cracked from pressure waves, every short lived set of thrust and parry a masterwork of blended blade and Force power techniques that would’ve left the greatest blademasters of the Vhal’Dan pleading to be taught how such was possible. 

They were barely conscious of their actions, their souls and instinct drove the machines of their bodies into seeking the slightest advantage. The Triarch defending his home drew on that conviction to begin to gain an edge in each pass, landing slight deeper cuts, his ripostes that much stronger.

The strength of defending ones home was in the Triarchs' limbs, Jarys Vendetta driven fury could never match that and he knew it.

No option left Jarys sacrificed the aether for raw power.

Drawing back his presence he balled it into an inversion of the Aether that pushed unsteadily outward armour him barely a meter.

The Force died from Nurhls body in a gut wrenching instant, he recovered quickly but the briefest moment of shock was enough for the Aethan to exploit.

Without the Force to speed his reflexes and sense Nurhl was left watching the blurry motion of black fists smashing Durandal from his grasp, then two vices gripping around his throat as Jarys leapt on top of him.

The all encompassing pressure on his throat mixed with a brief sense of weightlessness as Nurhl felt them both fall backward, Jarys intent to keep him within the ever shrinking Null field - knowing he could sustain it for only a handful of seconds.

The Triach hit the floor just beside where Kiraea had been blasted  floor downward in what seemed an aeon of war ago, the sheer weight of Cataphract an Aethan cracking the already fragile flooring and sending them plunging downward.

With a plume of dust and blood Nurhl felt his back crack as he landed staring up into a chillingly passive blood and scar mangled face of Jarys over him.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:26:07 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 8
It had been Kazic in his post memory consumption haze that had felt the daen nosi first writhe in agony and order the immediate evacuation of Lus’Phor as quickly as legs could carry them to the ships.

Descending through the Atmosphere of Galtea, Xanaea had felt it next. 

The youngest Aethans total and utter openness to her People and their Goddesses made her more attuned to their nascent whispers across a Veil enormous as it was wafer thin.

Her eyes narrowed and focused, her adoptive mother Selaena still nursing many injuries from Sora’s beating days before ever observant of her second daughter quickly snapped her attention on the girl.

<It’s alright…> Xani said to allay the older woman’s fears.

<But It’s not…I have to…I have too…>

Barely knowing what she was doing, yet expertly enacting it the young Aethan burst her presence to encompass the entire group mind with a ratcheting and disorienting pulse against the very nature each Aethan was drawing upon.

The Null pulse was an unspoken, inexplicable signal for each and every one of them with what little strength most had left to push against the Aether instead of pulling it in - a micro Null field barely able to cover them but just enough to survive the primary blast wave of the Thought-Bomb deonated on Lus’phor.

Across Galtea, and in the ships bursting from Lus’Phor the Aethans one and all vanished from the Force for brief stressful moments, some barely conscious supported by those near, and Xani herself pushing the Null where the Connecting Group mind had once been.

If the desperate pleas of the People to their Goddesses throughout the last hours as they were beaten and broken by the Cataphracts had gone unanswered, it was because they had saved their limited yet divine powers for this moment.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<

The Barabels hissed, Ya’qul screamed incoherent curses as the Shadows balled in on themselves.

Then the wave hit, the force that had been their staunch ally buoying the last Cataphracts up died and the full wracking intensity of the pain it had suppressed cascaded onto them like a dam shattered at its foundation.

As Ravra fell to her knees in shocked silence her Triad and Ya’qul writhed in agony at the sudden impact.

Evaea scrambled up as the world bleached red and black in her vision, her own ice echoing as directed them to flee, there was no time to finish the enemy, every second in the null was precious.

They crawled and staggered, scooping up what orbs they could carry along with the bodies of the unconscious, without the aether their progress drastically slowed, obtaining barely a third of the total, the rest would be rendered worthless by the shockwaves ruination.

On his hands and knees Ya’qul followed the blood trail to the exit to the nearby docks, briefly catching the blood shot eyes of Evaea, bitterness at the stymied battle would never leave him, whether they would’ve won or lost in the end would never be known.

With seized muscled he scooped up Linella’s fallen Sulen rifle, ineffectually firing shots at the door hitting nothing but the walls, till finally the waves subsided long enough for him to stand.

Long moments that lasted only a few seconds he stood staring embittered -a dour crease in face at the one and only consolation midst the losses suffered -

The Cataphracts had remained to the end, the Shadows had run.


<<<<>>>>

>>>> Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den<<<<

Another fist landed into the purple bruised puddle of Taryn's face, Behrn raised his gauntlet again determined this would be the one to crack the skull.

Instead an excruciating wave of wretched energy struck the depths of his soul as the Thought Bomb wave hit and his enemy vanished in the Force.

The Albino primus gripped his head writhing as all the pain the Force had suppred in his body lit like a wildfire.

Matted and bloody Taryn heaved him off as further down Kall-jeq Masbes staggered at the last moment.

Lydan was his knees, his naginata snapped in two, half of it protruding from Jin’Ba’s back, a sacrifice for Kalli to get the Shadow warrior this vulnerable.


The holocaust shockwave sent her tumbling like a sack of rocks, her beskar breaker falling.

 The Aethan pair wasted no time as their null fields died and the twisted broken Aether flooded back in.  The Thought bomb left all Force energies hollow and twsited in the immediate aftermath, the exertion of a null field seemed preferable but was impossible to maintain


They crawled and scraped toward each other, smacking the crippled cataphracts down as they passed, half hearted efforts both as they preserved energy.

The suffering was too much for Behrn, by most metrics he should’ve been dead, he fell fading in and out of consciousness.  But Kalli would. Not. stop.

Eating the razor taste of the force on her soul she crawled on her elbows and knees toward them broken fingers tossing a handful of marble sized ‘Popper’ explosives that burst onto Lydan’s legs, his efforts to stand up faltering, instead collapsing onto Taryn.

A messy, stumbling chase through the ruined arming halls began.


<<<<>>>>


Melron stiffened and to Soban’s senses vanished in the force, the old Aethans faced pained by the effort as he lunged toward Soban.

Soban thought it an attack and struck, the Zweihander slicing the side of the Aethans face and into his shoulder.

As the Wave from Lus’Phor hit Soban realised through the excruciating pain that quaked his body and soul it had been a desperate attempt by the Aethan to save him.

Melron rolled half his face a cauterized gash, arm hanging limp barely connected to his torso at the shoulder.

Soban reeled and lost all pretence, a guttural primal scream erupting as the full force of his genetic curse and the Thought bomb wave consumed his every sense.

He remained standing, the power armour, dented and carbon scored as it was, became a metal sarcophagus that refused to let anything but his head fall.

Melron slowly crawled up to the Undefeated Master Gray, betrayed in the end by his genes and overtaken by a shockwave none could have predicted.

Soban felt his body at last fully fail, he might have recovered from the exertions, maybe been able to walk again with permanent cybernetic grafting, but only if he had the Force to stabilise him until rescue arrived. 

The splintered lance that erupted each time he tried to touch the Force denied him that, the Aethan likewise limited in the currents he could tap, barely holding on given the  injuries received.
Soban stared into the cool eyes of the Aethan waiting for the coup’d’grace.  Melron struggled over, sword in hand.

Then dropped it.  Soban’s breath was a bare whisper trying to communicate in vain

 Staggering himself, leaning on the Cataphract armour Melron kept Soban company for his last minutes.

<<<<>>>>

Nurhl willed his arms to hit back, his legs to kick, but without the Force the full toll of exhaustion and strain of fighting against the super-human was dumped upon him, barely able to lift the weight of his own limbs as he felt fully the torn muscles and slack overstretched tendons.

Total victory was moments away.  Jarys released the Cathars neck for a moment only to grab his head ready to twist it off, Kiraea was mid air sword aimed straight at Villados eye about to skewer her to the floor.

The universe for Villados seemed to pause.

There was her Triarch, broken, battered, about to have his head snapped, above her the red haired demon poised to plunge a sword through her skull.

Between the prone Primus and Triarch lay Balmung, broken power cell still sparking, a keen metal edge where it have been cut apart.

Slowly, taking in a gentle breath Villados closed her eyes drawing the Force to her as she had as a Teidowan to complete the simple yet astonishing task of lifting her saber with her mind.

Kiraea’s eyes flicked in the endless moment between instants of time and saw the subtle wobble of the zweihander against the floor, knowing based on her descending arc when it landed in the Kiffar’s hands Kiraea herself would have no time to avoid the jagged weapon and her own downward momentum would plunge it into her heart. 

Balmung shattered the sound barrier as it flew to an open hand.

>>>>1 Second Until the Lus’Phor Holocaust<<<<

The long weary and pained fingers of Nurhl Båz-Rhadde gripped the shattered beskar Breaker Balmung and with all the strength of his soul thrust it into Jarys neck. 

The jagged metal sliced through the hyper-keratin and unusual bones to cut into the artery beneath - near black red arterial blood thick with hormones and nutrients meant for the brain ran hot and heavy over Balmung and onto Nurhls hand.

The adamantium vice set to twist Nurhl’s head from his neck relaxed.

Villados looked across content as Kiraea landed on her - blade first through her skull

In a seamless motion Kiraea pulled the blade covered in blood and brain and bounded across to her husband who was swaying to the side .

She knocked Jarys fully over as her hand pressed against the gash in his neck trying to stop the blood loss even as she pushed out a barely adequate null field in response to Xani’s call to protect them from the devastating force wave from the Thought Bomb.

Ertiae and Alulat, struggling to rise, were simply floored once more. 

Nurhl finally out of the Aethan null field was hit by the wave but remained definitely clasping Balmung in the air, the blood coated broken beskar breaker like a trophy, a symbol of the sacrifice he knew Villados had just made by sending the zweihander to him instead of saving herself with in the last moment.


Kiraea clung to Jarys frame tightly, her own Null field painfully expanded just enough to cover him as arterial blood pumped out before cells could trigger life saving protective responses and suspend his heart squeezing.

She fumbled about patching his throat and keeping the Null field pushing against the nefarious tide of Thought Bomb waves until the worst was passed and fatigue forced her to relent.

Everything upended the predators resorted to Flight.

Across the Fortress the Aethans staggered in a retreat from the crippled Cataphracts.

Alulat, Ertiae and Behrn barely conscious, only Kalli relentlessly shuffled after taryn and Lydan pulling herself over shattered tiles and broken pipes.  Nurhl rose slowly and cautiously as Kiraea hobbled carrying the vastly larger Jarys toward the prize they had come for.

With a quick jab her fist shattered the trasnparisteel and she grabbed the dull Holocron of Xinis’Zo, the device seeming to have shut off its usual energy aura in response to the Thought Bomb.

Neither Cataphract nor Aethan knew it had been a thought Bomb at that point, only that the Force or Aether had been shredded in an instant uniting them in weakness and panic.

The success never felt more better as Kiraea forced a path out, the Cathar regaining some motion but without the Force every injury the fight had inflicted was pulsing, the pain he could ignore, the mechanical inability to lift his left leg, shattered hips, and limp right foot he could not. 


Fallen comms began to sputter, beside Villados broken skull Nurhl heard dozen of overlapping voices as panic and terror overtook the Vhal’Dan on all sides.  Somewhere in the jumble of words he heard Kage then Dead.  He wouldn’t believe it.


Kalli was so close, recovering more with each meter as the Shadow Pair ahead scuttled through a crack in the fortress wall inflicted in the initial bombardment, mid afternoon light streaming through - the cut as a wall of black appeared.

Taryn’s face stretched hideously across his shattered features as their vac arrived in the form of Selaena and Xani, the older woman hunched with her rifle still wobbly from Sora’s beating took aim straight at Kalli behind the men, her shot ringing out but missed as weak lasers struck the side of the their hovering transport.

On an appropriated Tug the remnants of Triads Grek and Osk after a prolonged sub-light journey from the death trap Golans at the edge , - managing to get a hold of a passing automated rescue tug that prowled the Macrol Void that had hyperdrive their damaged Saril lacked, at the cost of any decent weapons and a very cramped trip.

Selaena snapped round to head to the bridge as the tug's Utility lasers meant to blast small asteroids or other minor impediments bounced but didn’t damage the Blackstone hull. 

Xani staggered losing her grasp on Taryn as the vessel bumped , Selaena intent on saving her son and daughter mate hit hard reverse to grind against the Fortress walls providing some cover as point defence cannons fired at the Tug. 

Jorl’Taf quickly snapped the sluggish controls to escape the fire, the Cataphracts on Board the flimsy craft more determined opening the air vent to leap out onto a higher level.

Already drained from projecting the Null Field Xani had only her comparatively tiny form to try and help the massive men onto the Ship as Selaena came back to help her as Kalli got closer and closer keeping to the corners remaining as unseen as possible.

Melron pushed himself hard up stair after stair, neither time nor energy to breach the Cataphract Vault he had taken what prizes he could, the fight against Soban had left him battered, but not crippled like the others due to Soban’s physical limitations.

As he rounded another corner he skidded short as arm mounted lasers blasted the ferrocrete, Gerchon and Vask seeing the Shadow Warrior making off with Soban’s body utterly incensed at the desecration. Melron had been tasked with capturing Cataphract armour and a beskar breaker - he just didn’t have time to pull it off Soban.

Kiraea was not far behind with the far heavier Jarys on her back, Nurhl struggling to keep up, the Force a raw bed of Razor blades in the shockwaves' wake.

“STOP!” The Familiar Voice of Mylinda from a swaying cracked level above caused Kiraea to pause in her movement as the Cataphracts will was expressed - something the human regretted instantly as using her unique power opened her to the murky backwash in the Force. She resorted to more conventional mechanisms of her Blasters.

One hand cradling Jarys Kiraea snapped drew her own pistol, dented and damaged faster by milliseconds, the Hades micro-mega-maser aimed with genehanced precision to blast into the Cataphracts hand- Kiraea’ pistol smoked dead but Mylinda’s exploded.

Kalli reared up at last, baring her jaws wide she thrust straight at Lydan’s back, Selaena too late to save her son suffering another blow but managing to land the butt of her rifle in the Nautolons face.

Kalli would not be dissuaded, dribbling blood she came at her again as over multiple creaking levels of the orbital bombardment damaged fortress the Cataphracts pursued the fleeing Aethans.

Behrn finally coming to himself limped into action as Nurhl made his way up the stairs, Alulat rousing Eritae.  Melron pushed past the ranged attacks of Gerchon as Vask jumped floor to floor to get the old man in melee.  The aethan elder using what aether power he could muster to destabilize each landing.

Kiraea dragged her husband fast as she could as the Cataphracts narrowed, hot blood pumping out every few seconds from Jarys throat wound as Nurhl regained if not competence then at least grudging capacity to keep going in the broken Force.

That very reliance was their undoing, without the Force the Aethans were still beyond Stage 9 Metahumans, the Cataphracts were not. 

With every passing second connected to the Thought Bomb tainted Force the Vhal’Dans bodies were at war with themselves rejecting the strange sensations, and worse slowly regaining their sense of the rest of the Battle-meld and feeling the losses that had or were occurring.

Midge’s death rattled Vask letting Melron sweep under him with Soban’s body, Qaman’xa caused Gerchon to shudder, Sora had Mylinda wince. 

Crashing through the ruins of his dens upper levels, Durandal hissing back to life poised to strike the deaths of Ravra and Soban, who Nurhl had not seen on western stair well, finally cracked through the Triarch.

The Heart and the Conscience of the Cataprhacts lost to him in a single instant. The physical and Force torture he was enduring seemed a comfort comapred to the grief that now flooded him.

He would rise from the blows again and again, for he was the Iron Will of the Vhal’Dan - ut the still small voice within asked in ominous tones

“What will that Will become without the Heart and Conscience to guide it?”

His golden feline eyes locked with the green of Kiraea’s looking back at him for  brief moment - for years after he would wonder was that momentary despair, so eminently forgivable when his physical wounds should’ve seen him splayed out broken, yet so horribly timed, was from his own mind or a trick played by the Shadow Witch.

It didn’t matter, Xani relieved some of Kiraea’s burden, the teen strung out from the weight of so much flesh and armour now burdened with one of the heaviest Aethans, but dedicated to taking him nonetheless.

The Shadow Warrior had not beaten the Cataphracts the Triarch understood, what he would later learn was a Thought Bomb had. It was never any consolation.

The last sight Nurhl had of the shadow warriors was the Wrath of the Goddesses, throat sliced open, coating a teenage girl in oblivion armour with red hair in blood.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 01, 2022, 12:28:17 AM
Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray —  Ultima Ratio — Aftermath
<<<<>>>>
<<<<>>>>
<<<<>>>>Days Later<<<<<>>>>
<<<<>>>>
<<<<>>>>
Nurhl
The door hissed and Nurhl Båz-Rhadde left the wraith that had once been a great man to his lingering death.

Anson D’Aklon had not survived Lus’Phor.  The emaciated creature that clung to life in the Bacta tank with a writhing Thought Bomb maddened mind was not the Kage.  The Triarch would spare no expense, but given the decimation of their resources he doubted they still had what would be needed to help him recover, if it was even possible.

The small group outside the medical suite comprised Mylinda Kazz, Ambassador Jorl-Taf clinging to a DNA locked case and Master Gray Raru Vinjaga who had led the last faction of the Collegium loyal to Anson off Lus’Phor.

All looked expectantly for what Nurhl would say.

“The Kage…” the Triarch paused, he should relay the order to pursue  Kazic relentlessly with everything they had left.

That would truly be the death of the Loyal Vhal’Dan, although there had been no sighting of the Shadow Warriors since the Thought Bomb, the defection of Marc-Andr Drevifv left Kazic with some 800 or so Knights, Raru and Nurhl had only 300.

“The Kage would want his final orders honoured,” the Triarch straightened as much as he could in the back brace beneath his armour, one of many such medical supports needed while he healed.

He looked to Jorl’Taf, the Ambassador nodded, grimly moving to a desk and opening the case, within were gleaming Quantum-Locked Holo Documents, the agreement with the Confederate Colony of Zilior, Vhal’Dan military assistance and technology in exchange for refuge.

“Only the Kage can sign…” Jorl’Taf explained his long fingered hands cradling the genetic signature encoder carefully, presenting it to Nurhl.

“..or the Triarch or Arbiter on the Kages behalf.”

Nurhl nodded grimly, Mylinda sighed and turned away, Vinjaga remained stoic though a fiery desire for revenge burnt brightly in his heart.

Nurhl pressed his paw down, micro-needles taking blood and skin samples to lock into the cylindrical authenticator.

“The Kage Anson D’Aklon accedes to the agreement and the immediate transfer of all True Vhal’Dan Knights and resources to Zilior.”  Nurhls voice rumbled almost cracking as he left Galtea forever behind, consoled at least by the fact he was following the path the Kage had set out before…before the disaster that took D’Aklons sanity and left them without a leader.

“Glory to the Kage, Long may he Reign,” Vinjaga whispered, whatever happened to the body that had once held the Great Anson D’Aklon Vinjaga would never accept another to take his place. 

So far as he was concerned Anson D’Aklon was the perfect book end to what had begun with Black Rikard so many centuries past - the Final Kage who would reign in spirit over the Vhal’Dan forever.

Whatever misgivings Nurhl had of Vinjaga’s sentiment he kept hidden - there were more immediate issues to be resolved.

More documents were signed, details plotted, messages to the few remaining loyal outposts sent.

Nurhl Båz Rhadde led the anaemic remnants of the Cataphracts to an uncertain future.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 07, 2022, 11:22:42 PM
Remnant — Part 6 —Expansion
The Ailon Six

Rumbles and thumps built upon each other as the Boarding Torpedo hurled through the detritus of a brief space skirmish and leavings of asterid mining amidst a system that had no name only a Designation Deep Core - 100033287, claimed - as so far as anything in this wasteland kept apart from the galaxy by its interminable navigational hazards of incessant gravity fluctuations and super novae - by the Mining Guild.

[Sekesh 2 Ouron]
[Ouron Confirm, Naphat,]

The comm chatter was crisp and sharp as the Ailon species themselves, all clad in their read form fitting armour that resembles the chitin of insects more than plate of warriors to allow maximum flexibility. 

Beneath the humanoid Ailon were little different, a species that existed to wage war and sought every avenue to participate as mercenaries.

Heseb, KREE!” the Doctore demanded of the only non-Ailon among the party crammed into the torpedo tube.

With rote irritation the six Aethans slammed their both wrists to their foreheads. The Term Heseb in the Ailon language was ‘Forced Labourer’ - how such a petty species had enslave six of the People was answered in the unique blue glow of the devices on the Doctore.

They had started with ten.  Korys had died on Bith, Jadyn during the brutal training regime, Mysaea in the skies over Daros VI when their ship was hit by a missile. 

Only Lysan had escaped, the unique circumstances that made it possible - electromagnetic storms and tesla carbine fire on Eadu - were unrepeatable.

Still they tried to use the chaos of each warzone to find a way to remove the insidious cell sized device that kept them obedient.

A Nano-Viral cell injected into the base of their brain stem ensured they complied with every order or a quantum entanglement signal would be transmitted from the Doctore - their ‘Trainer’ - from his cybernetically grafted control system in his arm to kill them immediately.

Under the constant observance of their Doctore there was no chance to cut them out via field surgery.  The cells also featured a number of failsafes - they were restricted to a 500 meter radius of the Doctore, the transmitter itself needed to be kept in tact and online, and the Doctore’s lifesigns had to remain in a steady state or the viral cells would assume they had tried to kill him and release their toxins. 

An incident several years earlier in which their Doctore had nearly died of a natural cardiac arrest and killed them all in the bargain had necessitated a slight tweaking but not enough to work with.

In addition the cells themselves were resistant - repellent even - to the Aether.  The Nano-Virals had been crafted, or gifted by a being named ‘Kadmaur’ to the Ailon decades ago for ‘services rendered where the Revenant had failed’.

This denied them telekinetic or shatterpoint means of removing them. 

Lysan’s escape had been a combination of such unique factors that disabled the cell and the failsafes it couldn’t be repeated.  None of them were surprised they hadn’t heard from him since, the Ailon were constantly on the move and he might not have even made it off Eadu - even if he had what was one man against the Ailon’s millions.

The only path to freedom was to simultaneously pry out all of the viral cells and suspend the Doctore from taking any actions against them - the margin of error for such an operation was in the nano seconds, and the Doctore was always heavily guarded, typically in his Armoured War suit, flanked by six other Ailon while the Aethans - known as ‘Auxiliary Squad Heavy Infantry 44-Besh’ or ‘Aux 44’ for short - was doing the real fighting.

And so as much as Kasaea, Taraea, Lynaea, Daryn, Davys and Varan hated their ‘masters’ they had to obey.

The boarding torpedo jilted them all forward as they smashed into the target.  This was ‘low’ work fending off pirates from Mining guild mines in the deep core, passing time and harvesting credits as the Ailon Nova Guard mustered for larger campaigns, just enough to keep their skills sharp.

With practised ease they deployed.  Sitting in rows back to back, the thin walls ahead of them exploded outward and their harnesses unlocked.

Swift as death they rolled and jumped into the airless mine, Korpesh Rifles powered and primed, Power-Scimitars on their hips for close combat.

The Doctore strode between them confident he would remain unharmed knowing they would use all their powers to protect him. 

They lived in a perpetual state of waiting, moving through these corridors past empty carts on mag rails and vacant ports where mining droids should be charging with indifference.

Heseb KREE!” The call to attention was met with swift coordinated movement from the twin Aethan brothers Davys and Daryn who rounded a chiselled dark brown rocky corer and into the first engagement.

The enemy responded with speed but not dexterity, their bulky void capable armour looked ancient, thick plates of unpainted overlapping durasteel, a fixed rebreather on a large head with bulbous headlights to see in the dark of the Asteroid mine, specks of carbonite filled the air in the yellow glow of the lumens before the Korpesh rifles lanced blue hair thin beams into them.

The Praktih Legionnaires tumbled under the powerful laser lances, their armour though new was based on old designs and comparatively poor quality metals despite the efforts of their Shadow Lords to improve.

Across the twisting tunnels counter fire red and crackling struck back, the Legionnaires using rank fire to concentrate the shots from their far slower Las-Carbines.

The Aethan Six devastated the slow humans as they did almost every enemy the Ailon hurled them against, the Doctore following with his haughty gait behind the devastation they wrought, kicking over bodies with steaming holes between the eyes, noting the uniformity of the enemy equipment and the anachronistic symbolism.

“These are not Pirates, these are soldiers, Kuffuk,” he cursed, the Mining Guild had either lied, or more likely were so incompoentant they could not tell the difference between raiders and an army.

It made no difference to Kisaea as she drove her blade through the chest of one while firing point blank into the eyes of another. That they assisted Outsiders killing Outsiders was the only meagre satisfaction of their existence.

She noted the enemy didn’t retreat - fell back to defensive positions certainly - but didn’t route as a vagabond force would. Despite the losses the Aethanf inflicted she sensed a quiet confidence in the ever diminishing number of bulky plated soldiers.

“There is a trap of some kind,” she commed across as she hurled off another bulky body, Taraea behind her blocking then cutting a Legionnaire apart at the hip denying the attempt to flank her.

“Can your Heka Scry the nature of it,” the Doctore Demanded

Bitter as ever Kisaea nudged Lynaea, the most adept of them in sensing the future she was moving at a crouch covered by Varan.

“Nothing obvious…” Lynaea pushed with the aether -tunnels, eight Legionaires round the corner ahead, - Varan prepped a grenade to roll round under telekinetic guidance - and…

Wall? A vast Thick Pillar in the Aether, black as the Oblivion stone of their homeworld was waiting for them.

The grenade rolled round the corner…then rolled straight back surprising Varan, the pair pulled behind a column as it detonated, then spun out in hunched positions to fire on the Legionnaires they expected.

A Walking Giant of Shadow came instead.

Seventh charged into the interlopers with speed and strength the Aethan Ailon servants had not experienced since fighting a Gen’Dai Fraternity on the misty plains of Assanmu.

Their precision blue bolts cut thin scars into his Aegis Oblivion armour mere seconds before he tore them from their hands, an instant later massive knees crunched into them with speed beyond their own superhuman reflexes.

“KISS” Lynanae pleaded to their unofficial leader, Kisaea, Taraea and the twins moving swiftly to help their People.

Seventh was satisfied that this new enemy held valuable technology, and wanted to damage as little of it as possible, being conservative with his blows into the enemy where he could, even as he fought more against the tight confines of the tunnel than the enemy.

His three meter natural height supplemented by armour and massive muscular form ground against the I beams sending sparks as the others tried to scramble away.

“DOWN” Kisaea called as the others concentrated their fire on the behemoth creature.

Four beams of Korpesh laser fire lanced into the Aertemisaean Shadow Lord a second before he threw back a massive ball of kinetic energy.  Taraea pushed a kinetite shield to counter the attack, but the enormity of it was such it still knocked them back.

Yet that was not what troubled them the most - it was the familiarity of the aether use.

Seventh sensed it too, rushing forward his Oblivion Shatter Sword in hand he launched a bolt of Aether lighting at the six enslaved Aethans, Daryn energising himself to soak up the lighting best he could to protect the others in an instinctual defence against such an attack Aethans were born with.

“Kill it!” the Doctore demanded behind them as Seventh blad smashed into Kisaea’s Scimiatar nearly shattering the Ailon blade at the first stroke, Davys tried to cut into eh the giants side to no avail, the speed and skill of the regenerated Aethan warrior beyond their ability two on one.  The tight confines of the tunnel made it impossible for the other four to get into melee, trying instead to fire their rifles into gaps, the Aegis armour more than able to take the shots.

“Use your Heka” The Doctore instructed in the term the Ailon used for Aether or Force powers.

Daryn and Varan did so firing off a wall of aether flame to relieve Kisaea and Davys who were hard pressed by the blows Seventh rained down, as the giant twisted to take on the flame his fist very intentionally struck Kisaea’s helmet with shatter point precision cracking it off.

Taraea’s shots cracked into Seventh helm forcing him to remove his own as he took on a defensive stance - but more had been achieved by both sides.  in the very thin bare atmosphere Seventh and Kisaea could now smell each other fully.

<Aethan!> the Shadow Lord telepathically shouted to her
<Why do you serve Outsider filth!>
The Doctore watching on Kisaea lunged into the fray again, trying with all her skill knowing it was easily countered by Seventh.

<We have no choice, they control us with cellular poisons in our brainstem, immune to the aether we cannot remove them,>

She grunted against his strength, waving the others forward to fight him.

<If the Ailon behind us, the Doctore, is injured or dies they kill us, if one cellular poison is removed the others detonate,>

Seventh now fought three of these lost People, dodged the shots of three more, but his eyes were on the Ailon behind them.

<Mind Control, Illusion?> he asked

<The Doctore he can feel the aether enough to sense the attempt, he would kill us if we tried,>

Seventh grunted as their inconclusive battle continued, neither wishing to harm the other, soon the Doctore would become suspicious.

<Sixth confirm options,> Seventh singalled

<Plan in Place Thirty Seconds> Seventh had not come to this asteroid alone with the Legion, the Aertemisaeans medic with him.

Leading twelve Ash Centurions, the Prakith Legions elite forces, Sixth cut into the Ailon from behind.  The Insectoid red armoured creatures were tough, they sliced the regular Legionnaires apart, but against a soldier of the Technocracy they were no match. 

Through the corners and corridors he smashed the Ailon with his sheer bulk, blasting others to chunks with his enormous gauss rifle, the Ash Centurions covering his rear from flanking attacks, but taking quick casualties, capable as the Shadow Lords had trained them, the Praktih Legions had neither the skill nor equipment to succeed against the Ailon with anything but sheer numbers.

The Doctore’s Tac map showed the enemy coming in from behind.

“Damn you the Heka or I end you all!” he cursed the slow Heseb

<Do it,> Seventh permitted breaking the blade lock with Davys and a performative kick to Kisaea’s breast that left her short of breath, but understanding what Seventh intended.

The Ailon slaves drew their aether powers together in a single point concentrated on Lynaea who would channel an extreme blast of Aether lighting at Seventh.

The flash of the Aether briefly filled the Doctores senses, then exploded outward slamming into Seventh, then round into Sixth, flooring the giants with a crash that rocked the entire asteroid and left them smoking husks.

“Too Slow Heseb,” the Doctore admonished his wards
“Half Rations two days,” he punished, fingers ever tickling the gauntlet buttons that would kill the Heka wielding soldiers.

“We will meditate on our errors, Doctore,” Kisaea said with a forlorn expression on her soot smeared face.

“Clean out the rest of this asteroid immediately!” the Doctore insisted.

“No Doctore, that is not possible,” She replied, standing over the hissing corpse of one of the giants.

“You defy me!” his finger hovered over the kill switch for her

She tilted her head, a fresh cut on her neck bleeding out, the air shimmered and the body she stood over vanished, a hulking figure behind Taraea with a knife in her neck inspecting a tiny device in its oversized hand.

“I do now,” Kisaea replied as her People surrounded the Doctore, all bleeding from the neck - Sixth and Seventh rapid field surgery covered by their Aether illusion having the desired effect.

Massive hands suddenly lifted the Doctore spreading his arms out painfully 

<Keep him alive for now, just in case>

<<<<>>>>

They sat in the rear of a clunky square vessel bouncing through the twists of deep core hyperspace lanes, cuts on their neck all but healed, though they would certainly need final checks to ensure everything was removed.

<Can we trust them?> Taraea, leaning into Varans embrace, asked Lynaea.

<I don’t think we have a choice,> Davys replied for her, ever the practical one.

Kisaea kept her counsel for the moment as Lynaea tried to use her Seior powers to scry any deception.  The feeling of freedom from the Ailon had not fully sunk in, and there were many questions to be asked of the abnormally large fellow Aethans who had no names, only numbers.

The Battle on the Asteroids had turned swiftly after the Doctore  was  ‘pacified’. Joining the Shadow Lords the Aethan People had turned on the Ailon tearing them to pieces in an explosion of repressed rage that only seemed to whet their need for Justice against the outsiders that had used them.

<I don’t sense deception…they have focus though, an intense drive to killing Outsiders,> Lynaea said eyes closed

<Perhaps they know of other survivors, can take us back home,> Davyn added, ever hopeful compared to his twin brother Davys beside him.  Daryn’s hand cradled two small figure carved in old wood found on the desert wastes of the first planet they had been first to train on by the Ailon.  He had carved them in the stubborn hope he would one day see his children again, Davys trying to temper his brother's expectations.     

<They are not People…yet they are People,> Varan mused, the most contemplative of them as he led Taraea - perhaps the only positive in the whole of their enslavement had been Varan and Taraea coupling.

So many years together had brought inevitable attraction among the group - Varan and Taraea came together early. Lynaea had been with Korys before he was killed, a hard blow that had taken her years to recover from, developing an attraction to Daryn afterward, but the father was so grief stricken for his lost children he seemed unable to reciprocate.

Kisaea herself as ‘primus inter pares’ had been more than friends with Mysaea before she was killed too.  Kisi knew Davys was attracted to her all along and - perhaps more out of loneliness than anything else - turned to him at times over the years but never fully bound him with her Pheromones - the stress of their existence combined with only marginal attraction to him to leave her unwilling to commit him to her.

Even as the others spoke she could feel Davys eyeing her every so often.  Easy as it would be to couple fully with him, she knew were she to die, the serious Davys would be grief stricken to the point of self destruction.

<...but I never heard of ‘Other’ Types of People, even in old Melron’s stories,> Taraea noted, many a sleep cycle she had recited her Guardian Uncles tales for them to pass the time.

<We’ll soon find out who and what they are…> Davys thought soberly <...the question then becomes what we do,> his stolen glances at Kisaea now became a fixed stare looking for guidance she only begrudgingly gave.

Leadership was her cousin Karintha’s skill, the others seemed to look to her more out of that familial connection to the Matriarch to be rather than Kisaea’s own ability.

<Survive> Was her only answer.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 07, 2022, 11:28:05 PM
Remnant — Part 6 —Expansion
Reunion
Sixth Aethans, separated by a culture and centuries, stood opposite each other before the Dagger Throne of Prakith, the usual teeming audience hall empty as this was People's business only.

On the left were the People. All bore the scars of recent explorative confirmation surgery to remove the deivce that had kept them slaves, the three men invariably 179-180 cm, the women 174-175cm tall, skin tinted slightly by radiation on dozens of foreign worlds, quickly fading scars and untrusting eyes.

On the Right the Remnant. Giants of Technocracy Engineering, 3 meters tall, out of time ruling over a micro empire driven by instinct the infused command of Purgatio Astra.

Without their Aethan slaves the Ailon had been mopped up switfly by Seventh and Sixth, albeit with substantial losses of Legionnaires. A secondary Ailon response was now inevitable.

“The Technocracy,” Ninth finally broke the eerie silence
“No Longer stands,”

The People looked among themselves before Kisaea replied.
“What is the Technocracy?”

If the Remnant were able to experience the emotion of surprise they would have felt it now. Instead their Reactivated stunted mind registered severe dissonant information.

“This means of communication is inefficient,” Ninth said swiftly, her voice far deeper to the Peoples ears matching her enormous size.
“You still possess an Aethanea Cortex, share with me your experiences and knowledge.”

The People whispered telepathically among themselves, after so much suffering they had little trust for any but their own, yet so far these titans had saved them from the Ailon, and while far from People, were the closest things to fellow Aethans they had encountered in decades.

Kisaea stepped forward and released the habitual barriers around her mind.

Ninth mentally stepped straight in, soaking up the memories offered.

Cool alpine air, high mountains, Ninth recognised the location as a nature preserve on the Northern continent of Aethas…wooden houses, rope and simple metal, waterwheels on the river, marble statues of the old Civic Symbols -turned to Goddesses…a culture of farmers and craftsmen watched over by a handful of skilled warriors…ruined...destroyed by the coming of the outsiders…lost…sold, implanted, enslaved, made to fight, two of their original number dead, another's fate unknown, six remained waiting for the chance praying to the Goddesses for succour…

Superstitious uncultured savages Ninth realised among her squad, as close to a sense to despair as a being without the necessary neurology to experience emotion could muster as she saw what the Technocracy had descended into, a subsistence Tribe that while not without its moment of ingenuity was so very far from the glory of the Technocracy as to not even be worthy of its shadow.

The link of the Aethanaea Cortices - the Technocracy crafted brain organ that allowed rapid sharing of knowledge worked both ways.

The People through Kisaea saw War…endless hopeless war, knights in battered bloody dress with crimson energy swords at the heads of thousands of slave soldiers, a handful of chosen Sword brethren beside them - the Sith Lords of the Deep Core some 700 years ago. 

The Technocracy was losing, badly, it was only a matter of time before they found Aethas. 

She saw nine battles, on cramped oil and rust covered ships, on glass covered moons, monsoonal seas, black sand deserts…they were the Remnant before her but normal height, soldiers, spies, scouts…killed in combat, bleeding, broken, enhanced organs failing - black hands brought them dead to white suited scientists and ‘sorcerers’

A black Altar, innumerable injections and implants to sustain dying flesh at ultra cold temperatures, a last resort for a Technocracy that had so few citizens was to revive their own dead - but the need to ‘Perfect’ everything tainted an already necromantic process. 

The dead could not be restored, not fully, fragmented personalities were rebuilt into molds of pure obedient instinct, their bodies enhanced, made bigger, faster, stronger to compensate for a lich like connection to the aether - outwardly strong but hollow within.

Prepared, equipped, ready for the final tests before being deployed to the front lines as the first of an undying army that could be, with refinements, recycled over and over…

But too late…Darkness of Centuries collapsed upon them.  They woke lost, distant, their Technocracy dead, but their implanted orders remained.


They are…our ancestors… Kisaea realised

People and Remnant stared once more across at each other, some understanding of the other gleaned.

“You don’t know where home - Aethas - is…” Kisaea spoke first

“Solar rotation around the Black Hole in the deep core is not predictable, we know the search zone, but it accounts for over a million stars and we have limited and outdated resources to search with, few probes reach the zone, fewer send data back through the radiation.”

Ninth affirmed their mutual homeworld remained hidden.

The People had lost their Home, their culture, family, the Remnant, the Technocracy that designed and remade them best as twisted aether arts and genetic engineering could from dead soldiers.

“We have Purgatio Astra,” Ninth said knowing it was no consolation as she extended her hand across the Dagger Throne, symbol of their dominance of a servile human micro empire that was a mere stepping stone in acquiring resources to Cleanse the Stars of Non-Aethan Sentient life.

Kisaea took it.

“And now we have each other,”

<<<<>>>>

Twenty Ailon vessels screeched out of hyperspace over DC_100022145, the largest Mining Guild Carbonite facility in the Deep Core, on a barren pink sand world beset by scorching 200 degree celsius winds of razor sharp silicone that had long since eroded any above ground hills or mountains on the planet too close to its sun.

Smoke filled the shielded dome over the entrance to the mines.  Orbital docks floated lifelessly, vulture droids and droidekas sparked and drifted between them, all bearing the marks of Prakith Legion Las-Carbines.

The Nova Guards remit, and subsequent remuneration, had both increased since the loss at the Yrgun Asteroids.  The Mining Guild had begrudgingly agreed to pay the extra to ‘Suppress and Deter’ the Prakith raids, but not wanted to part with the credits necessary to do any more.

Just as Kisaea had predicted.

400 Ailon Nova Guard were on the larger ships that now split off Felucca carriers to take them to surface.  Their tactics, training and equipment all superior to the Prakith VI First, Second, Fourth, Sixth and Seventh Cohorts - 2500 men -  that awaited them.

Yet the Legion was confident.  For with them stood Six Great Shadow Lords, each worth a hundred soldiers, and Six new ‘Lesser’ Shadow Lords.

Kisaea and the other former Ailon slaves knew the Nova Corps tactics intimately, and waited with vicious anticipation to use that knowledge to take their vengeance on the insect like humanoids.

Ninth slowly came up behind her, the shadowy bulk of the Remnant Aethan less intense now Kisaea wore her own Oblivion armour.

Divided by centuries, the Aethans were reunited by their hatred for outsiders.

“Aethani Dominabutir Astris” Ninth recited over the newset and most valuable asset to Purgatio Astra, and the proof that there may be more Aethans yet alive. Crude and unsophisticated as the Tribals culture was, they were still biologically Aethan with all the carefully designed martial prowess and assuredness of their racial superiority that entailed, it took little effort to turn them, already harmed for decades by the Outsiders, to the task of Purgatio Astra.

“Gloria in Excelsis Aethani” Kisaea and the People responded as the trap laid for the overconfident Ailon was sprung.

<<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on February 16, 2022, 08:37:09 PM
The Oblivion Gray Chapters
And so we see the violent conclusion, both sides denied complete victory while the casualties mount...

In each scene, both Cataphract and Aethan combatants are driven by their ingrained ideologies, their Codes as much a part of them as their own hearts.  No wonder that Valens kept the details hidden from Kazic, not only due to the adversity faced by his Aethan "allies" but also to hide the fact of their true motives.  And--courtesy of Anson's Flow Walking--we see just what a tantalizing prize that Xinis'Zo's Holocron presented, enough to help obfuscate the survival of the Triarch and his Cataphracts.  And while, yes, the War was fought between two sides, it is the individual skirmishes that truly illustrate the disparity between the conflicting groups.

And the losses suffered.

Given all of the deaths that the Cataphracts endured, the worst were most certainly the Cataphract's Heart (Ravra) and Soul (Soban).  Absolutely EXCELLENT writing & plotting here; I can definitely see why the Cataphracts of Szammas' time are missing a certain vitality and spirit shown in Nurhl's Troikas.  Just as evident is the strengthening of the Aethan's xenophobia, best illustrated by Ari's realizations (and paranoia) that Kazic's motives were NOT as laudable as she'd first given him the benefit of doubt for.  It's as haunting a character study as it is as dynamic an action piece.  Speaking of...

The fight between Jarys and Nurhl really best exemplifies the lines drawn in the sand, how each perseveres as a manifestation of their beliefs and their trust in their comrades.  Interesting that the Jarys/Nurhl battle echoes that of Valens/Anson, with Nurhl coming out MUCH better everything considered.  But where Jarys' faith in his fellow Aethans is further supplemented, Nurhl's own experiences with Anson and, more importantly, the thing that he becomes shakes his confidence in his Kage to his very foundations...a secret that not only he but indeed the Cataphracts as an entity will guard in the centuries following the Civil War to the First Jedi War.  It is, unfortunately something that will shape BOTH sides of the Vhal'Dan for decades to come.

However, each Triad--from the Corellian Crash Cresh to the Clergy, from Lil' Nern's to Midge, from the Barabel twins Rana & Rena to Villados--was a character given life, an episode in their lives during the worst that the Civil War had to offer...THESE were the details that separated Oblivion Gray from being a "mere" war story, rather it strikes straight into the heart of each groups' motives, their concerns, going far beyond the mundanity of words on a page and the depth of the story that any Star Wars movie/show would be lucky to demonstrate.

Yes, Kazic "won"...but not without heavy, HEAVY cost...more a pyrrhic victory that even the Aethans experience given the outcome.  And as for Anson's side and the Cataphracts themselves...what becomes of an entity bereft of its Heart and Soul?

I think that those answers will be seen in the stories yet to come  ;)

Remnant Part 6
Back in the Prakith Territories, we FINALLY see the reunion between the Remnant and more of the Lost, both almost as much a stranger to each other as compared to other Outsiders.  But what does the Purgio Astra mean to contemporary Aethans in general, and the Ailron Six in particular?  Will the appreciation of the Six from their enslavement translate to Loyalty to the Remnant?  Do the Remnant truly feel that present-day Aethans are their inheritors...or merely another group in a galaxy to be conquered?

And what will happen when the Empire of the Remnant come into conflict with the Aethans or the Mak'Tor or the Vhal'Dan?

Meta-note
No surprise that this is my favorite Aethan Story already, but with the expansion of their time as Kazic's "Shadow Demons" during the latter part of the Vhal'Dan Civil War, this has truly been a treat, both working with LSG as well as learning-as-I-read those chapters^^

And the posters are nothing short of phenomenal!

AWESOME job, LSG!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:07:27 PM
Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unbreakable — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/xs0krRj/Trinity-Arryn.png)
“Up kriff lickers!”

Eyes opened to artificial light triggering a moment of disorientation as he waited vainly for the follow through a jab to the side by the Overseers electro-staff.

Tickling pins shot up through his body as it hit with as much indifference as a slave master could muster.

Rising up as best he could he hobbled over to the blocked rusted booth where the droid handed out the electro-picks.

With the same indifference it passed him the one with the three chips on the front. Over the years he’d had every electro-pick so often he was nearly at the point of naming them.  There were 312 in all, and all had outlived twice that many wielders.

This was one of the better ones, it still had some bite into harder veins and didn’t sink into the loamy rock as much.

The humidity cloyed constantly reeking of sweat and defecation from the dozens of others as he hobbled along.

Hobbled because the shaft was only 1.5 metres high – at most – there was no incentive to dig out the pit any higher unless there was a vertical vein of ore.

Vertical veins were rare.

The slaves always slept in a depleted shaft nearest to the new cuts in an ever downward spiralling mine with galleries cut out at junctions branching into every more twisted labyrinths seeking out the valued ore, the mag-tracks following behind them that took the ore and the overseers up, and brought new slaves down, never took them back up.

”It’s dangerous, as soon as its out get it into the tube or it’ll blow your hands off”

He remembered that warning very well.  It was one of the first days in the reeking caverns, the first of hundreds picking, toiling, hearing the occasional wet explosion as a hot vein was pierced blasting the others to pieces.

Bodies of slaves were eaten after they were killed after an unlucky strike on a gas pocket in a heated coaxium vein that ignited when it reacted with the drenched oxygen

It was not luck that had kept him from such a fate – no matter how many times he might’ve wished it found him – the aether trickled painfully up his back when he neared a dangerous area. 

He would stop, refuse to go in, and accept the beatings and reduced rations as the price for keeping his life.

Today was one of those days.

He paused at the entrance as the other slaves slid and slopped past each other, leather, fur, scales, skin wet with moisture and stinking of sulphur from the barely vented gasses that seeped from the rock.

His spine ached painfully telling him this was going to be a big explosion.  There was no point saying anything to the others, their lives meant nothing to him, and his meant nothing to them.

When he had begun he had tried to make ‘friends’ with those who shared his suffering, only an old man showed any kindness till he was killed over a scrap of barely edible gristle.  Since then he defended his food, chipped away at the ore and did little more than that.

“Ay!” the overseer called, his bloaty cream coloured body riddled with so much sweat it looked he had just jumped in a river.
“You get in ‘dere or you get da….”

His sentence was cut short by the burst of heated air that floored them both from further down the shaft carrying the wretched stink of cooked flesh and melted bone with it.  At least he would eat some meat.

He was growing too weak not to take every protein he could…pushing onto his scrawny arms, bone visible through the taught skin he coughed out the smoke and closed his mouth to try and limit the vapour he inhaled.

Slowly but surely he stood…or crouched as that was all the tunnel allowed, his face wet with something, his back bone dry from the heat wave.

“how…uhhhckkk…how you know…always ye know!” the Overseer rasped

“Yousa did this…yousa one o’dem Sons!”

<<<<>>>

What these ‘Sons’ were he did not know.  He didn’t know anything much. 

Didn’t know why they came in the flying carts, why they fired lightning from sticks, set fire to the Village…why he was brought here in metal boxes, what this Coaxium he mined was used for, what the names of the strange animals that walked and spoke were.

Arryn didn’t even know how long he had been here.

Yet for the first time as he stood hands clasped beside his head on the other side of a stockade that also clasped his neck painfully, he finally had time to consider these questions.

The stocks had a sign in the rude and only occasionally symbols the othersider used that said something in the local pidgin he roughly translated as ‘Sons Get This’.

He was stood at a junction, the other slaves heading past in every shift, encouraged to hit him by their overseers.

Some hurled faeces, some stood beside him and squirted fluids from all kinds of body parts on him, others simply pushed him over.  It was always followed by a brief bashing from the overseer.

“This is the Sons of Kessel y’see, they free slaves by killin’em!” they would chide.  He still did not know who Kessel was or what this Kessels Sons were.

Eventually the overseer grew bored with his torment in the stocks. 

He was let free by having his hands on the other side of the rusted metal holes cut off.

<<<<>>>

The pain was constant.  A niggling twinge in every digit that scratched at his mind and scraped with every motion.

In place of his hands an outsider with enormous eyes and a tiny head fixed by chop shop surgery with drills and gunk covered pliers metal stumps to his vacant stump wrists, metal wires pinched onto nerves that had once ended at his fingers.

No longer would he be allowed to continue his so called ‘sabotage’ in the mines.  Now every day his stumps would be penetrated by sharp painful electrodes that connected him to the Coaxium refining machines in front of a wall of hissing and popping machines that injected, froze and sealed the Coaxium in tiny tubes.

His new ‘hands’ let him interface with the Coaxium refining machines directly with his brain, impulses that had controlled fingers now controlled coolant levels and conveyors. 

It made him ‘useful’ again.

And every time the cables were pushed into the sockets in his wrist he felt the same stabs of pain added to the endless itch.

Despite his mutilation he still clung to life.  Over another uncertain period of time he learned the process of controlling the refining machines, his neural plasticity sufficient to integrate the new sensations from his stumps to do so efficiently.

He kept the process going for untold hours, and grew bored staring at the same scene of moving parts before him.

He began to experiment with subtly different ratios of catalysts and acids in leach solutions as far as he could.  There was something innate in him that wanted despite the compulsion of his work to at least…Perfect what he was doing.

It worked.

At some point in the timeless depths of the caverns the new overseer began to give him extra rations, he was, it was said, more efficient than the droids that controlled the other refining lines.

He was moved to a larger line, unplugged and stabbed again to connect in a vast corridor of conveyors, the raw coaxium dumped in at one end as blob headed droids controlled their motion through peroxide solutions, and pressurization tanks.

The dim lights of the droids stared emptily at him as he gradually took over all their work himself, making the refining process ever more efficient and precise.

He was given more responsibilities, and more food.  He performed his role well, learned how to best control the machinery through what had been his fingers quickly and efficiently.  He used the aether to detect shatter lines in raw coaxium to better determine how much treatment each batch needed, improving quality by 15 per cent.

Of course they attributed this success to the Overseer, and she was promoted as a result. 

The Hylobon overseer however did not forget the source of her success, and an unspoken agreement of sorts was determined.

He went with her into her new role overseeing the shipping rather than refining, was plugged in to the navigation and traffic control system, an Aethan mind far more powerful and faster than the junk droids they had previously used he soon dramatically decreased traffic blockages and turnaround time of freighters hauling the coaxium. 

In exchange the Hylobon gave him ever more privileges, access to a few books, a healthy level of food for a normal sentient – albeit still too low for an Aethan.

Nonetheless he grew stronger, and stronger…and smarter…and smarter. 

Over the months staring into the screens charting approach vectors, orbital parabola’s, shipping manifests and order quotients to be filled he began to find ways to access other systems, to break through firewalls and peer into the ‘holonet’ – at first he saw only what others accessed from the mining station whose name he finally learnt was Savareen – mostly the bored guards were on gambling or ‘adult’ sites that sickened him, but eventually he found a way to access information of his choice.

He looked, looked so hard for any mention of Aethan, People, Guardian’s…but there was nothing to be found on Holoogle or any other database he could access.

Instead to fill the boredom as his tasks became routine and easy despite the endless pain in his stumps, he simply began to Learn all he could about the Hutts, the Republic, the Galaxy, the Outer Rim, and the Pykes whom he discovered his overseer served.

And more he learned about the technologies he was working with, the Coaxium, the ships, the computers.

Again he increased the efficiency, cargo loading turn around times decreased 20 per cent, earning his overseer ever more plaudits.

“You Do well,” the Hylobon would say as he sat in the control room he never left upon an open long drop toilet, his only other visitor a mute and blind creature of some sort that would feed him every few hours.

“We both profit from these things, perhaps soon we find even better employment,”

“Perhaps” he croaked with a voice unused to speaking for months on end.

<<<<>>>

One day his chance came.

The long range three dimensional radar array lit with unexpected signals, ungainly flying vessels filling the void that he had never seen.

Their course was not for docking, but to surround and cut off the primary and secondary exit vectors.

Something was badly wrong.

Alarms sounded, the aether filled with fear and confusion, weary but focused minds soft from boredom asserted themselves to take control.

Savareen was under attack.  By whom and why he did not care.  He saw the approaching vessels in his mind more than the screens now such was the depth with which he could control the signals that painfully an up his arms every moment in place of physical sensation.

The entire station shook with tremors as its shielding was struck by ingenious boot leg ion weapons strapped haphazardly to pirate hulls.

He felt through the computer network the response, saw through every security camera the movement of the guards, felt in the aether the surprise as the slaves in the mines below were locked back in their sleeping tunnels.  Some even felt happy at the extra break…unaware that a stray blast breaching the shield could trigger a shockwave that would collapse the tunnels and snuff their lives out in an instant.

The automated defences turned to seek firing arcs…these he noted would fail, the cogitators and processing systems were poor and slow, decades out of date turbo lasers and software not updated for years allowing scrap code to build up in the caches clogging memory.

If he did nothing the whole mining complex would be destroyed.  Yes the attackers intended to take it, but Arryn could feel the lines of the aether expanding further and further then shattering apart…some stray bolt would hit the wrong exterior pipe that old with rust and neglect would cause a breach down into the refining levels, the raw Coaxium would be jolted and spill out, the heat soon turning it volatile and as the pirate celebrated their taking the command centre the entire place would be vaporized as the Coaxium had its revenge for being so cruelly plucked from the mantle over the centuries.

If I do nothing, I die…and they die with me….

Aethan cognition sat for long moments in contemplation that lasted mere milliseconds in time that outsiders experienced. 

Arryn wanted to live…but desperately wanted to harm the outsiders as well – for destroying his village, scattering his family and friends, defiling the sacred Valley with their presence, for attacking Females.  All this even before what had been done to him personally which paled in comparison to the violation of his home world and the women there.

As another millisecond ticked by and the green sweep along the radar twitched the pirate signals closer he tried to look to what would be…

He was not a Seiðr, had never had much ability of foresight even before being taken…but he sought it now.

He looked past the immediate flames of destruction about him, seeking the alternate reality that might be.

He saw flames again…but unnatural ones, shimmering green and blue and not in crackling flecks like a fire place, but pure balls of energy. 

His mind’s eye recoiled at the sharp brightness in the centre yet was drawn on…to see…thee dark shadows within, firm footed and united as brothers, one with…

Stumps like his own instead of hands…

Is this what might be…myself and two others to set the outsiders ablaze…

His decision was made.

He twisted in his stumps to the sockets more painfully than ever as he breached completely the firewalls he had only gently pried pen before, eyes closed his full six levels of consciousness went to work with more speed than any of the computer processors in the entire facility to take control of the automated defences.

The battle was one he could see only in his mind.  It was a series of complex trajectories and vectors determined in his head and plied into the turrets as he integrated the shatter lines in the aether to determine where to fire and when.

It was all pure mathematics and logistics in the end no different to managing the ore refining or cargo unloading. 

One by one he brought the pirates where he wanted them by shepherding them into kill zones by lacing vectors he did not wish them taking with turbo laser fire, saving the few missiles for when they were too close to veer.  The Overseers and the guards sent out fighters he could not control directly, but they seemed intelligent enough to mostly focus on the ships he weakened.

What explosions and death he caused he would never know, from his view fed by packets of data alone the only confirmations of damage he received were radar pings of multiple objects instead of whole ships.

Lost in the coordination effort he didn’t know how much time passed before the reinforcements dropped in at the edge of the system.

<<<<>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:08:04 PM
Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unbreakable — Part 2
“So…” Capo Unay Skii hissed through the rebreather as he walked the length of the Savareen mines overseers and guards, two Sentinels behind him…a dozen more behind the line up.

“The attack was repelled…but not it seems due to your lax efforts,”  he paused in front of one Hylobon overseer

“You’ve grown soft with the ease of this assignment…your recent success in improving Coaxium purity and decreasing transit costs…and my rewards for such…made you complacent and lethargic.”

The Pykes had invested in the Coaxium mine to ensure they had their own supply rather than relying on expensive republic firms or worse the Hutts, things had looked up recently as quality improved and costs dropped, but this latest pirate raid showed their success had attracted other envious eyes.

Perhaps we should stick to spice… he mused

“Nonetheless, the facility is safe, although in dire need of an upgrade, and I will reward those who preserved it.”

A sense of visible relief washed across the overseers. Fools his face twitched in joy beneath his mask.

<Fire> he ordered through the sub-vox

In swift and deadly precision his sentinels presented, aimed and fired a broadside of green into the overseers backs sending them all toppling to the ground…apart from one or two more resilient species whom his sentinels soon finished off with vibroblades as they cried and pleaded.

“Bring in the creature,” he gestured, a far door to the hangar bay opened and a wretched looking human with metal stumps in place of hands was wheeled in, legs weak from inactivity. 

The face was gaunt even for a human slave and the eyes never seemed to stop moving.

“You breached the firewalls and took control of the defences,” Unya Skii stated

“You were also responsible for the increase in productivity before that…you show far too much ability and competency for a regular slave who are you?”

Arryn looked at this next in the long line of overseers who would use him and saw the branching threads of the aether coalesce.

“Merely a being that wishes to live, to eat well, to not be beaten and mutilated further,” he replied honestly.
“So I serve as well as I can to that end,”

The Capo chucked in his helmet

“An pragmatic slave…I could use one such as you,”

Indeed he could, the Vigo Xithar and his cronies were muscling in on the Spice trade in the core, and doing so quite effectively, this Xithar seemed to have a preternatural ability to know just how to slice his enemies off at the knees.

“How would you like to leave this rotting hole?”

<<<<>>>

His state improved drastically.

For the first time since being taken he was given sufficient food, a modicum of dignity, and if not respect then at least acknowledgement of his usefulness.

His tasks were varied and numerous in the confines of a building near the Pykes Palace on Oba Diah.

At first he was assigned to determine improvements to the overall spice distribution network. 
The system was vast and complex, from mining on Kessel – finally he had learnt just what Kessel was – refinement and distribution was carried out by innumerable smugglers and traffickers to the ‘Republic’ a multi system loose confederate of some kind with wildly different rules in each system – Spice was illegal in most systems, but permitted in others adding to the complexity.

Plugged into a databank full of transaction records, navigational information and data dumps of known associated from personnel and intelligence files the Pykes kept he devised algorithms to select the best couriers for certain routes, how to select smugglers based not on their boasting but on their results and their ships capability.

He devised for the said smugglers new and better routes to follow, to maximize the number of systems supplied for minimal fuel consumption, reducing cost and increasing profit by 14 per cent – considering the Pykes revenue had been flat in the wake of the Black Suns growth it was a substantial boost.

Arryn was given a small room annexed to a server room kept artificially cool for the super processors, and a tiny mute furred creature of some kind to serve the needs he could not meet without hands.

Over the years he had easily developed his telekinetic skills to compensate for the loss, but he had no desire to show the Pykes those abilities.

So far as they knew he was some kind of autistic savant that so long as they kept well fed and comfy in a little box would pump out useful data analysis and advice.

If Arryn had any complaint it was that he was not able to access the holonet any longer, they ensured he only made use of offline databases. 

For the most part he was left alone, there was no need for the Pykes to visit him, or have him guarded as he continued to fulfil whatever task the capo assigned him.

The successful defence of the Savareen mine inspired the Capo to have him look into rewriting the automated defence scripts for other facilities – this required allowing him access to one of the Pykes Shadow-Holo Networks – he made sure not to try his luck.

One by one he analysed and improved upon the standard defence programming, rewrote protocols for docking and scanning, cargo loading and unloading as well, indicating on the reports where new turrets or missile encampments should be based, or where they needed to be replaced altogether.

The Capo no doubt resented the additional cost that would entail and refused to do so content with just the enhanced defence programming.

That was until the Sons of Kessel - the real ones - assaulted a deep space hub. 

The automated defences cut into their first wave effectively, but the turbolasers were poorly maintained and began to sputter and fail against the second wave, indeed some inexplicably exploded of their own accord which even Arryn felt strange.

Shields disabled, the crew of the station were easy prey to a small squad of commandos.

It convinced the Capo that Arryn’s advice should be followed with regard to upgrades and repairs whatever the cost.

His reliability and expertise proven he delved himself ever deeper into the Pykes trust.  Arryn had always been patient, and the knowledge that one day he would find a way to kill not just the Pykes, but billions of outsiders allowed him to endure his isolated existence.

<<<<>>>>

Time passed in an endless sea of the same events, rote tasks that caused him nothing but boredom once everything was ‘perfected’ as far as he possibly could.

His tasks were expanded to not just the ordering, but design and modification of security systems, then ships, all kinds of mining equipment.  By necessity he was given more access to the Shadow net to research, so long as useful innovations came from his tiny cell they cared not what he searched for in between.

He learned about the larger galaxy, strange events and groups, a near mythic cadre of warriors called ‘Jedi’ whose reputed powers reminded him of the Guardians of Aethas.

Little changed except the Capo, on each bi-yearly visit, grew fatter and his jewelry more gaudy as Arryn’s logistical and increasingly technical genius made him richer and richer, over four Cycles, Spice output increased by 25 per cent, slave ‘shrinkage’ decreased by 15 per cent as Arryn changed the suppliers of nutri-paste to a better provider.


‘Time’ only restarted from this floating existance when news came through that Vigo Xithar of the Black Sun had been killed on Ord Mirit and the Vigo Aur Hondo on Ando. 

The Black Sun’s two leading Vigo’s dead within weeks of them defeating the Sons of Kessel, and the Jedi and Republic Security forces otherwise occupied with a terrorist attack on Coruscant, the underworld of the galaxy exploded into turmoil.

The Capo seized his opportunities carefully, never failing to clarify with Arryn the limits of their logistical capacity to hold and utilize former Black Sun facilities and trading routes.

Hooked into the Pykes intelligence feed directly Arryn all but dictated strategy to them, the Capo taking all the credit.

Where there were failures it was in tactics, the Pykes ground troop reliability inconsistent at best.

Regardless there was overall success...one of the more interesting acquisitions was a Naquadah mine.

This was Arryn’s one manipulation, the resource known to the galaxy as Naquadah, an ultradense mineral of extraordinary energy potential, was known to him as Aquarion, abundant on his homeworld along with other Ultradense ores.

The People used Aquarion to enhance explosives in the mining of Blackstone and Greysleet, the outsiders fearful of the substance rarely used it for anything but trinkets and bespoke but powerful generators.

It was the latter he had briefed the Capo on the uses for - with their own supply and manufacture of Naquadah generators, for a large upfront investment they could switch over the majority of their other facilities from burning cheap Tibanna gas or other fuels to generators that had over the long term almost zero marginal costs.

The Capo however was aware of the explosive potential of of the Aquarion, and a small footnote Arryn included in his report noting the possibility of a Naquadaha enhanced Coaxium Bomb prompted the by now uncritical Oba Diahn to place Arryn in charge of the development of such a device.

Of course this required him to be moved out of his cramped hovel, delinked from the mainframes and given a new laboratory input.

He was moved to a more isolated facility, attached in a far larger room behind a blast screen to a new mechanised arms, integrated into a semi automated inventory system, given a pat on the head like the dutiful little pet he was and left to deliver for his masters once more.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:08:41 PM
Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unbreakable — Part 3
A metal hand five meters from his body clutched in microscopic fingers he controlled with the phantom sensation of his ring finger a grav contained fragment of coaxium in the vacuum chamber.

His other dendrites selected the Naquadah in precise amounts, exactly 7 molecules, carefully shaving them apart from the mole he had in the sealed dish far from the coaxium.  The distance didn’t matter, the dendrites had long range.

Carefully he brought the Naquadah and Coaxium together in a ration of three molecules of Coaxium to seven of Naquadah – such precision micro-chemistry could create amazing compounds as the natural binding of molecules that would otherwise occur was prevented,

Now he applied a gentle current, exciting the electrons into higher states to enable valence bonding and ionic bonding to occur at different points, guiding the molecules into a precise arrangement with gravity micro-pulses controlled by what had been his little finger on the left hand.

His eyes saw all as they were pressed into spectral-tubes that relayed streams of data across multiple wavelengths to his brain.

Finally he set the new macro molecule down in a thin launcher, aimed on a single tract at another molecule of exactly the same formulation.

He had the dendrite limbs withdraw to the safety of their tightly wound containers.

Everything secure the blast shield came down over the miniscule reactants, heavy and dark, though showing a few convex bumps where his previous tests had been far too reactive.

Initiating the launch he saw through the data streams the two molecules launched at each other at incredible speed on the micro-magnetic track.

An instant later every sensor readout spiked past all prior maximum threshold.

The Blast shield cracked open with a brittle groan. 

<<<<>>>>

The Capo, now sporting fine Corsuca gems on his species unusually wide facial plate, was more than happy to accede to Arryn’s requests for the resources to produce the ‘Naqxium’ Bomb as it was termed in commercial quantities.

Arryn had served loyally and faithfully for countless years after all.

New modules were placed on the mine next to the reactor manufactory, specialised droids purchased, a new software to control them on the delicate tasks devised along with the means of manufacturing the bespoke molecules in sufficient quantities.

Arryn continued to ‘serve’ producing for the Pykes at first hand grenade sizes Naqxium explosives, each capable of levelling entire buildings, giving the Pykes agents an insurmountable advantage in the battle over the fractured Black Sun assets.

Hours to days to weeks he would toil, two levels of consciousness learning, two designing with ever more newly imparted information from Military engineers texts off the Shadow-Net,  A fifth thought level coordinating between the four and the last in a rest cycle – his stump hands ever burning with the electric signals that passed into his brain, eyes forever covered by the VR headset that streamed nothing but statistics and thin blue lined blueprints.

Demand for space warfare grade weapons followed soon after.  2 Missiles with Naqxium warheads demolished a Crusader Class Corvette in a fight over a refuelling station at a critical outer rim juncture, the first easily overloaded the shields, the second cracked the ship in two.

If Arryn had one key personality trait it was patience, the ability to be still and silent for long periods, to perform the monotonous tasks of crafting weapons with the same empty march of effort that had sustained him through the years in the mines.

He had learned from the loss of his hands, the forced cybernetic grafting that followed that he could not overpower the outsiders, could not fight the system of oppression that existed around him.

He could poison it from within.

With the Naqxium he had created a means by which outsiders could kill each other on a vast scale. 

The limitation now was the Capo himself - ambitious as the Pyke was his vision was limited to his own pathetic little corners of the Criminal Syndicate controlled Outer Rim.

The time was ripe to expand his own horizons.

The Capo had spent so much time spending the credits he never bothered too much with checking his own inventory. 

Arryn had managed to amass several hundred kilograms of Naqxium, that the Naquadaha mine itself was starting to run dry masked by his careful manipulation of stock take ledgers.

Even during his weapons design he had remained in control of much of the Pykes logistics, his departure was timed perfectly with a brief moment when their resources were spread to the maximal limits of their operational sphere, making any attempt to intervene impossible.

His control of the droids that moved through the airless vacuum walkways from the refinery to the laboratory was complete he only needed the slightest tweaks to implement his escape.

Closing his phantom fists tighter on the internal system he had been laced into so far many years he ‘squeezed’ the firewalls they had put around his intranet till they cracked, allowing his mind to interlace with the entirety of the mine and larger facilities systems.

The Pyke guards and labourers barely noticed the change to the atmosphere capable sections, slowly flooded with Carbon Monoxide rendering a large portion of the varigate species unconscious, other sections he let the oxygen concentration simply drop over the course of three hours.  Of 187 staff 173 were killed in silent suffocation.

The rest attempted to send panicked signals, finding the comms booster needed to transit outside of system without any power.

Arryn watched as three braver Pykes made to the airlocks to attempt a manual repair. 

He allowed them.  Then before they were ready unlocked the outer door.  The instant decompression sent them shooting from the facility into the cold of the void as the droids under Arryn’s control buzzed with confirmations as they loaded a transport with all but one vacuum sealed container of his deadly creation.

Calmly he waited as the Droids beat the remaining survivors to death, indulging just a little to take personal control and feeling some semblance of satisfaction and he relayed the command to place the necks in the dorid's vice like hands and squeezed.

The moment of risk was when he had to detach from the ports into which his hands had been locked in the console for half a decade. 

His skin peeled slowly from the head set, skin pallid and showing the pink and blue of his veins beneath, eyes adjusting slowly to three dimensions from its interface internment.

Forearms twisted and needle-like stabs trailed his arms as he lost the connection to the mainframe, a wealth of stimuli gushing out of his mind leaving his head for the first time eerily silent with its own thoughts.

In this new found isolation he waited for the programmed droids to collect him, tension and anxiety rising in his staggered breath as the lack of control of the situation, and the crippled weakened state of his body after so long slaved to the machines struck him fully.

He waited.

And waited

Then gasped for breath as the door hissed open and the blank faced two meter loading droid came to carry him.

He was taken through corridors he had only seen on schematics and green tinged security footage, the vividness of the colours having more to do with the novelty of it all than the true look of the drab interior.

Like a child he was carried to the freighter, placed on the uncomfortable metal pilot's chair.  reaching with what strength he could he attached his right hand to converter then inserted it into the scomp link to take command of the ship - his knowledge of piloting entirely from Holonet courses and a cargo hold filled with nearly 700 kilograms of one of the most explosive substances developed since the New Sith Wars.

But this - this was the least of his challenges to date.

Bone and muscle grinding work in the mines hadn’t broken him.

Mind twisting body deteriorating virtual enslavement hadn’t broken him.

As the Blue-green tsunami of his creation destroyed the mine and labs behind his ship Arryn reamined Unbreakable.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:10:28 PM
Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unstoppable — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/ZX7JCKR/Trinity-Lysan.png)
Klaxons blared deep echoing through the red emergency light bathed corridors of hard steel.

The last fights against the guards were petering out in vicious stabs of shivs, horns and tools.  It was only a matter of time before the Alpha Force arrived to reassert control over the Hyper-Max Prison.

Before that Juun was certain the newly free prisoners would turn on each other once they realised there were no ships on the lunar facility.

Their only chance was to take the Alpha’s ships when they arrived.

Alpha’s were Chandrilla’s elite police forces, captained by retired mercenaries who’d moved to the core – able enough to have lived and thrived in the war torn outer rim – murders rapists and thieves among the prisoners could only beat such men and women with a heavy toll in flesh.

Even so, Juun felt what Gnnor wished to do now was going too far.

“I don’t like this…” Luug, Juuns brood brother noted as they stood before the heavy blast doors lit now by the sparking blue of a plasma cutter.

“The plan has worked so far, and this is the final piece,” Gnnor replied, the Feeorin steadfast arms bulging with muscles crossed across his chest festooned with tattoos of his victims – he was the most feared and dangerous prisoner in here…bar one…

The one they now sought to free from his carbonite prison.

“We can’t control that psycho,” Juun added, standing at 2.5 metres tall, hardened from a life of violence and pain the reptilian barabel was rarely intimated but the stories of this prisoner…

“We don’t need to, once the alarms twitch the Alpha’s will focus all their attention on him, we sneak round the mess with the Trog gang and the Hunna sisters and take their ship.

Gnnor was smart…but not smart enough to have avoided getting caught seven years before and handed a sentence of natural life internment – in any other system what he had done would’ve earned numerous death sentences, indeed Eriadu and Commenor had demanded his extradition for just that purpose – he lucked out that Chandrilla did not have the death penalty and refused extradition to systems that did…

Gnnor still wasn’t crazed or violent enough to put in carbonite.

The door spat then slammed open violently as the key lock was breached by the diminutive snivvian, a former safe cracker having no trouble with these locks.  Luug headed forward and dragged the carbonite slab forward.

A hate filled scream was frozen in time, the imperfect blobs of sealed carbon casting eerie shadows in the red light as Gnnor stepped up to the control panel, in his left hand the head of the Warden still dripping with blood – one eye was gone but the other would do fine for the optical scanner.

[Release Requires three Senior Officers]  A scrolling message noted

“The others,” He ordered.

 Juun still felt the tingle from the stun blasts the second officer had hit him with, Luug still had the scratches from the chief of security – that bitch had fought well to drive her knife into Luugs snout before his tail slammed her into a wall shattering her ribs.

They propped up each head in turn before tossing them to the side.

As the high pitched whine of the release system began the whole moon seemed to shudder. The Alpha’s were here.

“Lets hope this bastard has no hibernation sickness…” Gnnor said already heading out

“We don’t want to be here when he wakes up.”

<<<<>>>

Smoke steamed from the chest of the trandoshans as Captain Ynarak strode through the hangar.

“Bay secure sir,” Lieutenant Tris commed “Establishing perimeter.”

He didn’t reply, simply looked around the hangar confirming the layout matched the schematics he had been given, apart from a few crates and a makeshift barricade now blown apart by his vanguards grenades it was all consistent.

Without a word Second squad began setting up automated turrets and electro fences just as they had planned, this was what they trained for.

They knew their ship was the prisoner’s target, but also their best way to end this riot – they would let the prisoners come to them – suppress and subdue the braver ones then wait out the rest behind their barricades.

It was not the ideal strategy, Ynarak would’ve preferred to void the whole place, or simply surround it and starve them out, but his superiors in Chandrilla Security believed in humane treatment of all sentients and so he was forced to play their game of ending the crisis as quickly and peacefully as possible.

It irked him, but he would manage, compared to the system wars in the rim this was nothing. 

For fifty years he’d worked his way up from green farm boy to Senior Captain of the Black Swords, a mercenary outfit that fought on whatever side was willing and able to pay.

But he couldn’t go like that forever, he was getting older, injuries niggling, at 75 he retired to the Core and found good work on Chandrilla in security, he may not agree with their ‘soft’ policies but they paid and the work kept him occupied in his retirement, and every now and then you got an assignment like this that brought back all those memories, offered a nice challenge.

“Sir, confirmation the Tier Three cell has been breached,” the intel officer Sydon called out.

He kept silent, a nice challenge indeed.

<<<<>>>

 A scream locked in place for the better part of ten years erupted into life buckling the metal around him as he fell heavily to the ground, dripping in sweat.

His mind felt full and mushy, head bigger than it should be, thoughts swirled like the tides on the beach he had sat with first his betrothed then wife, then children…then nothingness…metal, demons, goblins…

His chest heaved in and out gasping for noble gases that were not present before slowly settling to a secondary respiration mode. 

On his hands and knees he slowly came to himself – he was not where he had been before, this place tasted of desperation and hate in the aether - strangely not all his own.

Biology designed to survive and thrive quickly made hormonal adjustments to diminish and overcome the otherwise debilitating effects of carbonite freezing. On unsteady legs he stood

If I can stand I can walk…if I can walk I can run…if I can run I can fight…if I can fight…

Staggering slightly Lysan gripped a metal column for support, Aethan strength four times that of a trained human dented the metal without effort.

…outsiders will die.

<<<<>>>>

Gnnor waited as Luug fretted

“We should move now…before that maniac gets going…”

“Not yet…” Gnnor replied, trying to manage prisoners desperate to escape was like trying to herd kowakian monkey lizards…the Alpha’s were smart, they had the hangar secured and weren’t moving – a few gangs had tried to take them on – all were now either dead or in shackles again.

“When then?” one of the Hunna sisters – Juun could never tell them apart – asked – the Zeltron women had some kind of genetic disorder enhancing their natural telepathic and emotional strength…to the point the sisters had ended up indulging in enough twisted violent orgies with near comatose victims to be given natural life sentences.

“When the main game starts…” Gnnor said firmly arms still crossed

“I don’t believe the rumours about that one…three Alpha squads is ridiculous,” Ara-Torg sniffed through his breather, the Gand was unusually tall, no doubt why he led the criminal clan.

Juun doubted the stories told about this ‘Lysan’ character as well, it was said he started a personal war against the whole galaxy, was building nuclear weapons when caught raving about Outsiders, Goddesses and revenge for ‘People’, supposedly he’d killed three Alpha Squads single handed before being brought down, allegedly they had even asked for Jedi help. 

Juun had never seen a Jedi and frankly doubted they were real, more a story to try and scare criminals into compliance with threats of mind tricks and telekinetic tortures.

There was a rattle outside the Library they had barricaded themselves in, the heavy shelves propped against the door rattled while they waited.

<<<<>>>>

His trembling fingers clasped the warbling multi eye stalked face and dragged it out.  It thrust a weak shiv into his naked chest, the instrument not strong enough to cut through hyper-keratin skin genetically designed to resist vibro blades.

Gripping the skull he squeezed until it popped.

He sniffed but found there was no nutrition in the meat exposed for him.

Hungry growls rumbled from both his stomachs as Lysan stalked toward the next glow of bio-thermal heat he could see.

<<<<>>>>

“NETS!”

Irril and Corv responded immediately pivoting to the left and firing the crackling stun nets over the barricade.

It landed on the mix of prisoners , their ramshackle ‘shields’ that were simply half of a table or chairs not protecting them from the electrical stun nets that sent them twitching to the floor.

Ynarak remained unmoved standing on top of the Transport occasionally deigning to fire his pistol with unnerving accuracy into limbs or tentacles as the latest lot of attackers fled back into the complex.

“Numbers?” he finally spoke

“48 unconscious, 62 further targets across four raids,”

He chewed on that.  The entire prison population was just over 350, checking his scans from the orbiting satellites and internal sensors he detected 532 life signs, subtracting his men and the guards on roster that left around 215 prisoners alive - the balance of 350 less 110 they’d seen must have been killed in the escape or among themselves.

“Third and Fourth Squad remain here, Fifth stay in the ship, First and Second with me, we move to Safe Room 11-C.”

<<<<>>>>

Shorca had a good set up.

Working in the kitchens when the riot broke out he’d managed to seal himself in one of the walk in refrigerators with a few of the more sane inmates and was making a tidy trade with the stores of food as the lock down went on.

He knew eventually the Alpha’s would re-establish control, but before they did he intended to get as many inmates indebted to him as possible.

Sure there had been a few starving thugs that had tried to barge their way in, but the double door and sanitation room in between provided the security he needed. 

A quick hack through the front door meant he could trade through a slot, and if any breached the outer he could trap them behind the inner door and flood the chamber with undiluted cleaning agents.

“Shorca,” Jez grunted, the Gotal sensing the approach of another customer.

There was a loud bang on the door, Hurik peered out into the disaster area that was the open plan kitchen and mess hall beyond, drawers and cupboards flung open where they had grabbed whatever seemed a likely weapon.

A shadowy figure stood behind the door sniffing and drooling for the food within.

“What you got ta trade? Stimms, Death Sticks, Deebs?” Hurik asked behind the outer door as Shorca put together a couple of frozen nerf steak and hubba mash potions in anticipation of the trade.

“Food…” came a growling voice

“Yah food laser brain, what you got? Put it in the slot!” Hurik demanded

Instead they ‘customer’ banged on the door hard.  Very hard.

“Oi don’t make me come out there!” Hurik sneered,

Instead Lysan came in there. 

All the force he could muster he shouldered the door inward crushing the dull Hurik between the inner and outer doors.

His tentative grip on the aether recovering he tore the inner door open telekinetically.

Shorca was ready.  Jez was gripping his head - the gotal’s conical horns on his head that served as electro magnetic sensors feeling the painful build up of charge just before it was unleashed.

Stronger than he had desired lightning flew from Lysan’s hand frying Shorca, his wiry weequay body dropping in convulsions as every electrical neural path in his body went into a state of hyperactivity.

Lysan too felt a painful backlash from using the aether while his head was still reeling from the hibernation sickness. 

Jez felt his horns about to explode as the pain overcame his senses.  Noticing the last of the outsiders Lysan merely snapped the creatures head off before dropping to the hard icy floor surrounded by shelves stacked with neatly labelled boxes of food.

So hungry he didn’t care the food was barely above freezing he began eating.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:13:01 PM
Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unstoppable — Part 2

Concentrated Stun fire put the last two down.  Precise marching, checking corners and sweeping side doors advanced the squad down the offices.

Ynarak followed behind his pistols still holstered as his Team secured the entrance to the safe room.

Inputting the override the heavy blast door slid open to reveal a few dozen of the office workers, half a dozen guards and the warden uncomfortably crammed inside.

“Finally!” the puffy balding warden huffed, a head shorter than the tall motionless Ynarak
“What took you so long...pah I don’t care, take me to the transport,”

Silence met him.

“Well!” the Warden demanded sweat stained patches visible on the synthsilk shirt that clung to his rotund figure beneath a pink rounded face.

“There will be no transit off the Prison until all prisoners are secured,”

“What you…”

Ynarak resealed the safe room, content they were secure within, ignoring the wardens rambling the and other occupants sighs of resignation.

“Forward,”

<<<<>>>>

Lieutenant Tris spun round to open up on the catwalk above, butt pressed tight to her shoulder she fired a controlled spray of three shots into the prison sculpted shirtless Chagrian who toppled to the grated metal of the floor.

They were making fast progress, her squad of twenty was divided into two groups of ten, the vanguard stunned, the rearguard cuffed, member swapped subteams every few blocs.

So far resistance had been mixed.  Her HUD linked into the Prison database and a facial recognition system, it scanned the Chagrian revealing he was a natural lifer. 

That was consistent with the pattern.

Those on 20 year or less sentences had, by and large hunkered down in their cells, willingly offering their hands to the stun cuffs, those with longer sentences were either…indulging in the lawlessness - they’d found a number of prisoners dead, or ‘used’ as they went...or trying to escape by overcoming her Alpha’s.

None had succeeded so far.

Their failure was a lack of coordination, they certainly had the numbers, and - despite the rigorous Alpha Physical Conditioning regime - sheer muscle to overcome them, but in the nexu eat nexu prison there was no sign of unity - yet.

Ynarak had informed them all on the flight up here there had to be a mastermind behind this, the question was simply when they would reveal themselves.

Forming up they advanced down Forn Block in tight groups of three, keeping all sides covered.

At the intersection at the far end a body flew across their path leaving a trail of dark red blood on the grey industrial floor.

It was missing its head.

Holding up her fist they came to a stop, half their guns aimed at the intersection, the rest scanning around them as the handful of prisoners in the cells either side who had remained in their cells crammed themselves ever tighter beneath their bunks.

Completely unclothed apart from blood and what looked like blue milk stains on his skin was a man holding the Crolutes head in his hand.

He was not overly tall, muscular but oddly so, the pattern of muscles was not quite humanoid standard but suggested far greater flexibility.

Her HUD automatically placed a blue box around the face scanning through the database for a match.

The face that appeared was a snarling maw of pure hate lit with a red signal that said Simply [Sealed Internment] - meaning this was one of the prisoners deemed so violent and dangerous they were encased in Carbonite to slowly die over centuries - an effective death sentence for a system that officially had none.

“Fire!”

Lysan’s head twitched as the petty outsiders shot their wide area stun shots.

His stomach full at last he was hungry for more blood, and a way out of this warren of cells and petulant creatures.

The blue crackling energy blobs slid slowly past him as he wove between the slow motion progress of the stun blasts.

Moving into a run he felt his leg muscles twinge as his body recovered rapidly from the hibernation sickness stimulated now by the food he had consumed by the tens of kilo’s.

Tris saw a blur of motion, the scattering of the blood from the prisoners hands as they grabbed two Alpha’s and lifted them up...then slammed them to the floor with bone crunching force.

The Demi-gods reflexes increased with each passing second as gene forged repair mechanisms worked overtime in time with internal shatterpoint healing to massage muscles, loosen ligaments and rebind bones twisted slightly out of shape from being frozen in the same position for years. 
 
His fury pent up for the same time was unleashed as fists and grabs on the Alpha’s whose mere human reflex speed was four times slower than his own.

Helmeted heads were punched in, stun baton wielding arms spun round to snap at the shoulder, knees kicked in backward as the Alpha’s tried to land a shot.

They hit, but not hard enough.  The sheer density of Aethan skin and flesh rendered standard setting on stun weapons little more than static tickles.

By the time they had switched to higher settings half their number were broken on the floor.

Tris crouched biting back the bitter pain of the losses that blinked off her squad indicators on the HUD lining up a shot as the bestial creature spun with unnatural dexterity round an Alpha, put the soldiers head in his elbow crooked and twisted it near free.

Her charged stun shot hit the creature dead on the side.

Roaring as the electric overcharge cascaded a numbness down his side Lysan quickly spun out of his attack, leaping the higher catwalks, slamming through the cells and away as fast as he could.

“Captain…” Tris huffed into her comm
“Code Black,” 

<<<<>>>>

“That's our signal.” Gnnor said, rising up to his full height as the snivvians signal-sneak picked up the Alpha’s comm chatter.

With the monster sighted the Alpha’s would direct all their effort against that thing just as Gnnor had intended. 

It would still be a hard fight, and many would be lost - but so long as he escaped it would be worth it.

His crew eager or resigned stood, Juun moving the heavy shelf currently barricading the library door.

“We make for the hangar through Cresh Block, they’ll have already been through there so are unlikely to double back, hole up in the officer - they would’ve swept those first - then when the shooting really starts we make our move.”

<<<<>>>>

Finally the end game was starting.

Ynarak pressed to the wall as he spied a clan of Gand scutter past, his hand by his side flicking battle cant signals.

On the closed fist First Squad snapped round the corner, disciplined concentrated fire unleashed into the back of the diminutive creatures.

Half flopped quickly, the others had, as Ynarak was well aware of the little mites, a bevy of dirty tricks and make shift explosive.

He wove through the short skirmish grunting as shrapnel hit his leg plates, grimacing as shivs were thrust at his abdomen but never once stopping until the clan were arranged along the side of the access corridor unconscious and linked by force-chains.

“lieutenant report,” he demanded swiftly

“No further contact Captain, two more blocks under control,”

The Code Black was a red Flitterer - a diversion, no one could plan this from inside carbonite, the mastermind had let the beast out of the frozen block to draw all the Alpha’s fire.

Ynarak growled as they moved forward past a clutch of cowering prisoners waving a white sheet in surrender.

It was a good plan, the damn code black would draw his fire.  Information on the target scrolled through one side of HUD while on the other integrated filters narrowed down the likely leader of the prison riot to three.

The Code Black was one ‘Lysan’, Metahuman Stage 9, deep freeze for coming perilsously close to building a Hydrgoen bomb in an Advanced Chemcisty lab he had ‘occupied’.  Ynarak remembered that, a few years ago while he was on leave, took out two Alpha squads before they finally had to mass bombard the building with high voltage Space Warfare Mines built to cripple capital ships.

[Force Powers Noted]  - Shavit…he didn’t have much equipment for that.

On the other screen he looked at the last three potential masterminds, one stood out, a Natural Lifer, Feeorin, body count larger than a Gen’Dai Marrow-Seeker.

“Gnnor…” he growled.

<<<<>>>>

“Gnnor!” Luug yelled as they dove between their makeshift mobile cover.

They had just reached the hanger, the Ixxo Pykes and Trandoshan’s had taken the brunt of early fire and diminished the Alpha’s supplies of grenades and stun nets, but taken down only one of them in return, there were 11 left.

“Get off, I’m fine,” the Feeorin snapped eyes always moving, they needed to move faster, the Code Black or the Captain could arrive at any second.

“You bitches do your thing!” Gnnor snapped at the Hunna sisters, their sultry crimson skin glittering in the stark white of the bay lights.

Covered by Juun they snuck best they could beneath the blue beams of stun shots to the far corner of the ‘no man's land’ between the Alpha’s barricades and their own.

Hunkering down the twins pushed out their combined Telepathic-Empathic strength on the nearby Alpha’s, male and female alike.

Gnnor remembered when the Zeltron twins had arrived, the number of lifers who thought they’d be easy to plunder as a twi’leki stripper in chains…the twins flirted with all the biggest players back then.  None of them survived a short trip ‘behind the sonic laundry’, the Zeltrons rapacious desire for ‘widow mating’ adding to the already unlimited sentence.

Now that power was turned to his use, lulling the Alpha’s on that side into a weary, lustful haze.

Shots from that side diminished in a minute.
“NOW!”

The Torg’s, a clan of Snivvians bounded across the floor to leap over the barricades.  Gnnor was a long term planner when the first of the Torgs had come in he’d put the Torg under his protection - five years later there were twenty of the damn rodents as more the clan was caught for their cyber-ransom and other tech crimes. 

They weren’t much individually as fighters, but a dozen of the clawed ferrets against four Alpha’s under Zeltron aphrodisiac influence were worse.

Ripping into the Alpha’s the Barabel brothers Luug and Juun leapt over after them and into the less affected Alpha's the powerful muscled reptilians bash on them with durasteel bars.  The Hunna’s were over a moment later shiv’s out, amplifying their power on new targets.

For brief triumphant moments Gnnor felt he had this won as he pushed out of cover into a charge.

Then the door behind him was torn open.

Half clothed, covered in blood and blaster buns, Lysan ran straight past the Feeorin toward the ship, Aethan speed outpacing the Feeorin in a moment.  Lysan indifferently smashed an Alpha at the closed ramp of the Alpha’s vessel and hammered the release.

Obviously it didn’t open. Gnnor sighed as he yelled over the scrum rushing to join him.

“It’s gene locked you dolt!” he mounted a barricade, kicked in the face of one Alpha, swept up the rifle and fired into one of the last not covered in rodent or reptile as the Zeltrons began to take grim ‘satisfaction’ from the victims still living.

Lysan’s still swirling thoughts solidified enough to realise this, psychometry and nascent telepathy filling in the rest

“..the captain,” he gargled more than spoke.

“Or two officers,” Gnnor pointed to two fallen downed lieutenants Luug and Juun were already beginning to strip for eye scans.

Their efforts were interrupted by the flare of blasts from behind them.

Ynarak with his two teams and a sense of cautious optimism came in behind the mastermind pinned at last.

“Him?” Lysan asked in a growl as Gnnor hit the deck.

“Him!”

There was a lot to be gained from having the unstoppable psycho on his side Gnnor figured.

Like a starving nexu chained inches from wet fresh meat Lysan surged forward as the hangar turned into a warzone, Turg clan, Barbel and Zeltrons firing captured weapons back at the Alpha’s who had him pinned, the Aethan weaving with preternatural passed through it all.

Ynarak had eyes dead on him as he drew his tremor sword, then slammed a button or an old device he never went into battle without.

Come on you bastard

The Tof Suppression field had cost him a years wage, but the devices ability to suppress the Force powers had saved him more than once in the System Wars of the Outer and Mid Rim - there was always some freak with a telekinetic magicka or wyrd to make their skin hard as stone.

Lysan ran straight into it, throwing punches hard and fast. 

The Veteran mercenary quickly realised the designation of this prisoner as Metahuman stage 9 was conservative, the speed at which he moved and ability to take hits from his soldiers stun shots with indifference incredible to say the least.

The lack of the aether would normally mean little to Lysan who was still drastically stronger and faster than the humans that made up the bulk of the Alpha’s. However with his body still reeling from hibernation sickness his reflexes were slowed without the shatterpoint healing patches that had kept him together.

Gnnor worked round the edges precision shots where he could, using his muscular tattooed bulk where he couldn’t to break the Alpha’s down.  His greatest advantage was as a ‘natural lifer’ he had nothing to lose by dying, being captured now would be a one way ticket to carbonite imprisonment.

Ynarak slashed at the creature with method and measure, cutting into meaty limbs that were far too resilient, but still taking too many hits in return - the mag-train like impact causing the familiar crunch of stress fractures beneath his armour.

Lysan slammed fist after fist into the hoary old Soldiers sides and chest, the clash of Alpha and prisoner about them reaching a turning point as the sheer numbers of Prisoners mixed with Gnnors obdurate strength and the Hunna sisters' nefarious mental powers overwhelmed the Alpha’s disciplined fire.

Stray bolts ratcheted into Lysan’s side temporarily numbing his left arm, Ynarak took immediate advantage, tremor sword straight into the Aethans skull.

The vibration weapon struck into the ultra-dense bone , Ynarak had made a simple, forgivable, but damning  mistake, putting great effort into the blow, but only enough to cut through an average humanoid skull.

Lysna’s right hand grabbed Ynarak’s wrist as the Alphas commander realized the error and tried to pull the blade out.  Lysan squeezed crumpling the humans bones, rising up with a tremor sword still lodged in his skull, he released the wrist to jab straight at the Soldiers face, cracking the helmet with the first, then breaking the nose with the second, before flooring Ynarak with the third jab.   

Gnnor looked past the bludgeoning of an Alpha he had pressed up against a barricade to see Lysan pull a tremor sword from his head, break the Alpha Captains arms and legs then start dragging him through the fighting toward the ship.

Absolute Freak the Feeorin thought, but a freak he now had to ally with.

The Gand and Barabels were out, one of the Hunna sisters looked dazed, the other limping, but the Alpha’s had pulled back, some crawling to escape.  Lysan indifferently strode past shoving the Captains face into the Occular scanner on the ships side, pressing the broken hand to the palm reader.

A red negative flared.
“He…he…” Ynarak laughed spitting out teeth already regrown multiple times over his life.

“You think I’d leave any escape possibility for you?”

“No,” Gnnor said coming up behind
“But you’d have one for yourself,” he took a chance and patted Lysan on the back
“The Sisters’ll make him talk,” Gnnor thumbed to the Hunna’s

Lysan glanced at the Zeltron with their pathetic pheromonal and arousal stimulating telepathic abilities, like all outsider things they were not even a sliver of the powers Aethan women possessed.

No they won’t he realised, the captain was too strong willed to give up anything from such trivial seduction.

Without warning Lysan snapped the Captains neck, Gnnor hissing and yelling as Lysan grabbed the quickly fading consciousness of the human, his own mind delving into the now spilled soup like contents of the man's life dragging knowledge, tactics, memories and feeling from the evaporating pool, Lysan’s Aethenaea Cortex jump starting with a neuronal burst from years of slumber to facilitate it messily, but still enough to capture what was needed.

“Grab the lieutenants they’ll know something,” Gnnor growled slowly moving toward the fallen tremor sword.

Lysan didn’t let him, bursting forward he planted a single blow in the Feeorins head cracking his eye socket, then rolling under swept up the Tremor sword to drive in the prisoners back.

The few members of the feeorins ‘gang’ fled, only the Zeltrons remained as Lysan ignored the outsiders moving to the ship to find the Captains secret entrance panel by the engines.

One of the sisters languidly slid up to him, pheromones and images of decadent trysts flowing from her.

“Let’s leave quickly,” she purred, unaware such abilities were utterly negated by the pheromonal binding Lysans wife Selaena had imparted so many decades before, yes the intensity had faded by the fundamental fidelity ensuring mechanisms were in place.

As the hatch opened and Lysan spun round it took only three quick motions of the Tremor sword to end the final two outsiders.

Clambering into the Alpha ship he keyed in the final codes to activate the consoles and systems, noting quickly on the display how many years had passed since his arrest for ‘Development of Weapons of Mass Destruction’.

Four standard years and 58 standard days the Outsiders had delayed him from his Goddess given quest to end all Outsider life in vengeance for their unspeakable crimes against People. 

But a Delay was all it was, with a ship, weapons and his hatred of Outsiders stronger than ever, Lysan was Unstoppable.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:16:17 PM
Chapter 49 — Trinity — Relentless — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/M9TMQLB/Trinity-Coryn.png)
Day 5.328

I’m on the hill.  Scent of spring blossoms thick in the air. 

I can feel her warmth leaning against me even through the flaxen clothes.

“I’ll be going soon,” she says

“I don’t want you to…” I protest gazing at the deep orange sunset over the sea, the first shadows of night lit by coloured stars behind us.  Tomorrow I have to head back to my village, my betrothed to her Uncles for her trial. 

“You’ll join me soon,” she didn’t say.

I’m two years younger, taller, but not as strong, she parts from my embrace easily despite how I want to keep her there…to keep myself there.


Alarms ring out in my head breaking the dream, expanse fields and open skies replaced by cramped oily metal, moist heated pipes and fraying hazard striped wires exposed all around. 

There is no rest in these sleeping visions, only harrowing reminders of what I’ve lost.

<<<<>>>>

It’s been 7 months since I first sensed it. 

The trail has taken me deeper into the Region of space termed ‘The Waste’ – it is apparently located on the edge of the ‘Unknown Regions’ and ‘Wild Space’ – what these names mean I do not know – only that here Credits of some distant planet called Republic are not of value. 
 
I reached a place call Ennunous today, a station on a dry planet. Those I spoke with were largely unwilling to of talk of other ships going to and fro in the region and I lack anything worth trading.  The water is barely potable, even for me.

Finally I spoke to some old scavengers who had ‘Retired’ here from a place called Jakku – wherever Jakku is if this is better I do not wish to go there unless my path so leads me.

According to them two ships passed through in the last three months, one headed toward a place called Feen in the Unknown Regions, the other deeper into Wild Space. I must choose which to follow, on the limited description of the occupants I will proceed to Feen, the occupants of that craft were, apparently bedecked in more opulent fashion and sought to purchase sanitary products – none are available here, on balance it is more likely they are carrying living cargo than the other ship…

I can feel a thin presence here…yet sometimes…sometimes I wonder if it is not simply my imagination – sensing what I wish to sense….

I dreamed, I think, sometimes it is difficult to know, but the clear blue-green skies – those I have not seen for so many years it must’ve been a dream.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5336-5342

I reached Feen.  It is a port of sorts, once a mining rig on a large asteroid orbiting a gas giant, as soon as I landed I was accosted by a gang of beings whose species I do not know demanding precious metals in exchange for ‘watching’ my ship. With none to give I had to resort to a mind trick to placate them.

There was only one store here, run by a scarred blue skinned being, I had nothing to trade and said as much – the blue skinned being known as K’Lyka – I could not discern its gender if it has one – indicated I could earn supplies by my labour.  I was taken to an air lock and given a suit to assist in the mining of the asteroid.

It has long since been picked clean of the best seams, I worked for four days without eating or drinking slowly gathering a sense of place, one the fifth day I was able to sense a moderate deposit of diamond.

When I uncovered it with the pick one of the other workers attacked me – his power pick punctured my suit – fortunately I do not require oxygen as frequently as others – I smashed his head into to the rock and was then assailed  by others- I killed three more before the others fled to the station.

K’Lyka did not seem to care, the blue creature simply satisfied with the find – I turned over the larger portion in exchange for a full gas filtration on my ship and half provision of water along with 32 food portions. I kept a quarter of the diamonds for future use.

Satisfied K’Lyka indicated that a month ago a ship came through belonging to a wandering merchant of some kind – not just any ship a vast barge as large as a city it is said – and whilst K’Lyka did not see any being resembling the one I seek it is at least something.  It’s next destination is unknown, but K’Lyka has seen the vessel before and traded a mineral called Phirk with them – This is the only lead left.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5371

I had to abandon my ship and acquire that of the pirate who attempted to hijack me. 

I had been following a trail of mining worlds seeking the location of the Phirk, my sense of the target long since lost…sometimes I wonder if it was even real….

The Shadow Drive crashed out into an EMP web, a mechanical device clamped my ship and breached the hull – they assumed I could not survive in the void for long – I can if barely – I killed two boarders by the third managed to cut my left arm.

Breaking that one I entered the pirate’s ship.  For the next few hours there was a stand off, as I tried to move in deeper they would try and flank through the ducts or the corridors – they tried to gas me out then rush me – I telekinetically crushed three, shot the fourth, but the rest got to me – I barely survived the attack.

For the last two days I have been convalescing, there is little food to be had but to eat the alien creatures themselves. I hope I can pilot this vessel.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5389

I’m here again…the pain has subsided.

Uncle Taran is speaking to me, words and lessons I’ve replayed in my head so many times as I’ve tried to do what is right.

It is getting harder just holding on.

He’s showing me how to use the aether to heal myself.  But at home it was strong, a sea to bathe in…here it is barely a puddle.

“Where are you uncle?” I ask “Help me!”

Taran is a Guardian he should be protecting me…but he is too far.

“…bring the lines together, join that which was fractured…” his words are stagnant in my memory they cannot answer new questions.


The planet Ynnung is the source of Phirk in the Waste.

My arrival was difficult.

As soon as I exited Shadow Phase fighters attacked the pirate ship obviously believing me to be the pirates themselves.

I managed to crash into the atmosphere, I did not wish to fire and aggravate the situation. The damage was too much reaching terminal velocity I deployed the one escape pod then jumped out.

The aether slowed my fall enough to only break one leg on landing – Scrambling to a nearby gully I managed to hide as a small group of the local law enforcement inspected the site then flew away. I doubt they would’ve believed my tale and I lack the strength for a mind trick. 

From what I saw crashing there are some settlements to the far east at least 750 KM…It will be a long walk.

<<<<>>>
Day 5400

My leg has improved, the was no break as I’d feared. 

I came across a farm amidst the wide thin and dusty soils.  Absent any water I approached the farmer in the field. 

Fortunately this being, a strange creature with a bird like head and vastly oversized legs called a Felucian took pity on me and offered food and water.

It’s name is Rinnal, it lives here with its mate Sassin and offspring.  The juveniles found me most curious. After eating I immediately offered some diamonds I still had in my suit and to assist with Rinnal’s work.  He gladly accepted the latter but refused the former.  He explained as we worked the wide fields full of struggling rounded leafy vegetables that his Ancestors were refugees to this place escaping the Planet Crackers many generations before, and that they had a tradition of accepting and assisting any stranger who needed help as the beings of Ynnung had them.

He is a decent being, one of the few I have met.

<<<<>>>

Day 5403

I was almost fully recuperated.  The Yollettuce Rinnal farms is not nutritious, I must eat a vast amount which entertains the juveniles to watch.  In exchange I assisted with repairs to a harvester droid and tilling and fertilizing a new plot. 

Rinnal was amazed at the speed with which I performed the task as Outsiders often are.

It was later that evening a large caravan approached.  On horned 3 meter tall beasts it was a motely crude of various species in travel hardened clothes carrying well cared for Las-Arquebus.  Rinnal went to meet them, then guided them toward a shed, within was a vast amount of Yollettuce, by my calculation’s half his crop.

I thought this was trade, but the aether told me Rinnal gave over the produce with bitterness out of character for the peaceful farmer who reminded me so of my own parents, content with the simple pleasure of their life on the land.

Feeling the tension I approached, the leader of the Caravan of armed men inquired briskly who I was, Rinnal half lied saying I was a hired hand to help extend the fields.  The Leader noted that would mean an increase in his tribute next season.

After they left Rinnal explained these men served the local ‘protector’ a Chagrain name Hummun who offered ‘protection’ in exchange for a large part of each farmer and herders crop in the region.

This I explained was not protection but extortion, a true Guardian of the People, as Taran had taught me, did not take from those he protected, only requiring their hospitality under duress.

Rinnal had little to say ‘It is as it is and long has been’.

I slept uneasily with three levels of my mind that night.  I left half my diamonds and followed the caravan’s tracks.

<<<<>>>

Day 5407

I came to the local township. 

It has all of 32 buildings and a dirt circle for a space port with a ship a short glance can show is barely worthy of travel.

High above I could see a planet cracker in the sky.

For the first time in so many months I felt the touch I had been searching for again.

She was up there.

The local’s looked askance and avoided me even as I approached the general store, the keeper’s prices were high, he informed me for a further diamond that a caravan left for a larger settlement once every few weeks.  It belong to Hummun, I would need his permission to join it.

It seemed inevitable I would have to encounter this Hummun.

I soon found him in the street standing over a beaten being with four arms.

‘You do not wish to pay,’ The Chagrain said
‘You may Challenge instead!’ he drew a sword and tossed another to the broken creature.

I understood then this was a being who spoke only violence.

The four armed creature grasped it with all the futility it could before Hummun skewered it, his laughter echoed by his compatriots.

As I tried to slip away he caught sight of me.

He questioned who I was and how I came to His Territory without him knowing, one of his crew who had seen me at Rinnal’s farm whispered in his ear.

I despised this being, but had no wish to engage in a dispute, I simply needed to leave the planet and said as much.

Hummun ignored my request and demanded I pay a toll for travelling his land.

I refused.

Indignant he offered me the same option as the Four armed creature as eyes of the towns folk gathered behind grotty transparisteel windows.

He tossed the spare sword before my feet.  This being was full of pride and arrogance to challenge an unknown being, though given my emaciated and filthy look he had every reason to think me a vagrant -which in this system I was.

I picked up the blade and gripped both ends snapping it in two.  I know I am stronger than outsiders, but this blade clearly had been weakened intentionally.

“I will, when you provide an adequate blade,”

Hummun took this as great insult and loss of face, I had exposed that his vaunted challenges were unfair.

He quickly recovered and offered me his own blade, while he took a second from his mount.

“Now there can be no trickery!” he leered.

With a sigh I yielded to the inevitable. 

His form was good, his opening stance strong, upward slash controlled and precise.

It counted for nothing against my speed.

His arms were severed in one sweep, head in another.

“This is not the way!” I called
“To rule by fear and intimidation, arrogance and aggression,” I spoke not to his perplexed cadre, but the citizens of the town.

“Take back your pride, your goods, your lives…” my exhortation was ended as Hummun’s warriors attacked.

The fight was long.

I had to avoid their las-arquebus shots while fending off their chain-sword wielding warriors.  My speed allowed me to get through the melee, it then became a running battle through three buildings. 

I took a number of hits, but each time I used the aether to crush an enemy another five fled in terror.

Kneeling panting on the ground any hope I had the townsfolk would assist me was lost as the trader complained that having removed Hummun I left the whole region exposed to take over by more rapacious gangs that Hummun’s hegemony kept out.

The townsfolk began to pelt me with objects.  I quickly gathered what I could off the corpses and one of the riding beasts, felling as the sun set.

<<<<>>>

Day 5413-5418

Two days after I left a group of Hummun’s former warriors attacked.  They killed my mount under me.  I grasped two of them from their saddles and crunched them into so much meat.  The others fled and I chased more to grab another mount.

I followed what my senses told me was a route to the larger cities, the planet cracker in the sky both hope and terror.  At any moment it could leave and the Woman on board with it.

The terrain changed and became greener.

Camping under the cover of a copse I was meditating, attempting to draw on the weak aether here, to find some semblance of this lands Gods when I was awoken by a rustle.

I chased into the trees and found a small human woman pointing a blaster.  As I gestured my hands down to indicated I was not a threat a larger scarred man grabbed at me, we wrestled briefly, the vast male human astounded to have met more than a match in me.

I’m still barely half strength, but that still seems to exceed most humanoids.

I stopped the scuffle and said I was no threat, simply looking to reach the nearest city with a space port.

The woman said she and her brother were headed to Yng- Usha some days away, also looking for a way off world.  I could tell she did not lie, but she was hiding something.

I offered some of the little food I had and though keeping a watchful eye we agreed to travel together.  As a sign of trust I gave her one of the rifles I had taken from Hummun’s men.

We traded for food at a farmers market two days later, obtained advice on the safest path to the city.

There was more air travel over head, the odd speeder, the planet cracker remained in orbit thank the Goddesses.

The woman said her name was Ashli, her brother Rem, she explained why she wished to leave this world for a better life in a system I have heard of called Republic.  I said there was less safety amidst the stars than on this world.

As she slept I noted Rem did not speak.  I could feel a disturbed mind in his large body, and in his eyes the look of a remorseful killer.  I know this look, it is my own.

“You’ve killed…many haven’t you” I said

He simply nodded.

Two nights later my half rest was disrupted. 

There were numerous beings approaching from all side with intent, I guarded myself, Rem too readied.  Men in militia armour surrounded us demanding Rem be handed over to them.

I listened, Ashli had freed Rem from a cell awaiting trial for hideous crimes, the simple creature was clearly born strong of body but dim of wit, unknowing of the damage his large hands could cause.  Ashli wanted to fight - with whatever sanity Rem had left he knelt in surrender.

It is rare to see outsiders act with justice and rationality like this, strange it took a mentally impaired one to remind me.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:22:06 PM
Day 5459 (Estimated)

They are called the Ssi-Ruuk.

A saurian race armed with strange weapons, they are my saviors and captors.

I was found - another captive named Yornul, an elderly man who seems to be the leader of the small band of twenty in the cell opposite – floating in a fused bubble of metal by the Raider ship, they were pursuing the Planet Cracker, but somehow it had left by the time they arrived.

I recall little after the final fight – The Solarri had me surrounded and backed into a corner, grenades and weapons breached the hull, I flew out…I grasped the ragged sheets of metal and wrapped them around me before falling unconscious.

The beastly reptiles patrol occasionally, there are Red ones horned with thick scales taller than me, and lowly ones, I can tell from their bearing even in such an alien species there is a class divide.

Yornul explained he is from a small agri-wrold, the Ruuk Came with a wide range broadcast – "Be glad! The joy that we bring goes beyond mere sensory happiness. Yours is the privilege of assisting the Ssi-ruuk in liberating the other worlds of the galaxy”

There is no truth in this, these beings take others as captives, and are rumored to drain their souls into machines. 

The cell I am held in is vast and empty, there are dozens more like it either side, it is clear they are at the beginning of a raid to take more captives.

The lesser brown reptiles deliver food and water, a trifling amount. 

Yornul holds no hope for his kind, his hope is simple he dies before being enslaved to the Saurians machines.

In the silence I tell him my tale, if only to offer some consolation that survival is possible – he listens and seems to empathize with my Peoples plight but remains convinced that there is no hope left here.

I will not stop, for 5000 days and more I have fought to find my People, my way home, pirates, marauders, animals, space worms, none have stopped me yet, these Ssi Ruuk will not now. 

He shakes his head, none have escaped the Ssi Ruuk

I will be the first.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5463

I grow in strength and understanding.

The Sssi-Ruuk minds are the most alien of all outsiders I have encountered, but I begin to understand.  They need other beings lives to power their vessels, they despise those not of their kind – this I can respect.

They are not dead to the aether, but they are not tethered to it strongly.  They do not realise I am using it.

Gradually I am understanding the nature of their language, it is comprised of whistles and clicks, the after images of thought in the aether are vague but I am beginning to

I can sense anticipation, we are approaching another world they seek to ‘Harvest’.  That is when I will strike.

Yornul watches as I meditate and prepare.   He asks if I am a Druid, a wielder of the elements, I say I am not, but among my own people I was training to be a warrior, a protector.

He asks me in deep solemnity, that if I fail in my attempt, will I use my Wyrd to kill him and his People rather than let them be ‘Enteched’.

I say I will pray to my Goddesses it is not needed, but I will honour his request if I can.

<<<<>>>

Day 5464

I awoke to the feeling or terror.

Terror I once knew myself when the Outsiders came to the Village.

I waited as the shambling machines marched past – I can sense the Ssi Ruuk have an aversion to foreign world not consecrated to their Blasphemous Gods, they do not wish to die on unconsecrated ground – I can use this to my advantage – the Red Saurain warriors would be a match for me physically, their ambots I can overload with lighting easily.

For the first time since Feen I see the light of a terrestrial world as the vast doors at the far end of the cell deck opened, shambling beaten and bloody creatures with three legs and bulbous heads dragged inside.

It was then I struck.

The aether slammed the button for the cage release and I lit my body in a lighting shield as I charged the nearest Saurian. 

It’s scales were too resistant, its weight too great to topple, but it found in me a remarkable challenge compared to the human it thought I was.   Redirecting I poured lighting into its snapping maw electrifying its mouth to its brain.

Some of the three legged things now fought back, Yorlun and the others rushed to help me.

The fight was quick but deadly.  My lighting chained through the square ambots overloading their energized weapon arms as they shambled on rusted legs.  I held the ramp down with the aether as we ran outside.

We were in a large clearing beneath the crimson sky, the ground littered with broken stalks of what would’ve been an enormous Fungi jungle, the ramps of half a dozen other Ssi Ruuk Vessels being filled with more captives.

I had underestimated, the Ssi Ruuk had more vessels than I believed or Yorlun had seen at his village.

I cannot fight them all…one ship perhaps…but not this many.

I did what I could, overloaded as many ambots as possible, hurled their sparking wrecks into the Red Warrior caste to delay them from striking me.  They are armed with stun weapons of some kind, they only want captives live as Yorlun indicated…fortunately my skin is able to take a few glancing hits without dramatic damage, Yorlun and his pale skinned people are not so fortunate.

As I fled into the Fungi jungle I ended those I could outright by bluntly severing carotid arteries – Yorlun among them.

I pray his Gods receive him even from this distant world.

<<<<>>>

Day 5476

The horrors of this universe know no bounds…after all I have seen, there is more.

I survived as best I could in the Fungi jungles – the life and aether flowed strongly revitalizing my body, I tapped the unconscious heart of the ecosystem to learn what to eat and drink.

The Gods of this world know I am foreign, yet know I am not here of my own will and have fought those that seek to harm its indigenous population.

I have come across two small villages…both emptied of beings, both next to large charred fungi stalks where the Ssi-Ruuk landed.

Whether this was before or after my escape I cannot tell.

The beings here had only simple weapons for hunting game, like my own People…they had no defense against machines and energy weapons.

It means the only quick way to get off this world is on the Ssi-Ruuk vessels.

There were stores of food left here, a few weapons and devices of use, in the centre of the village by a well a small shrine to a tentacle God.  The great tragedy I sometimes think is the loss of opportunities for learning and trade. 

I do not know these beings names, their Gods, yet I sit in their homes and east their food. 

I honour them as best I can, placing some food before the God after finding broken plates of spoilt food on the ground before it.

<<<<>>>

Day 5480

There is a pattern to their movements, they are heading from the jungles to larger population centers.

I hope to reach one in advance of the Ssi Ruuk…perhaps I can warn them.

<<<<>>>

Day 5482

The Djogetti almost slew me outright.

Only with the aether was I able to calm their nerves.

I was nearing what I sensed was a large beacon of life when I came across traps and snares – their scouts soon struck, I defeated the first two but spared them while trying to communicate. 

They do not speak basic.

The leader of the hunting party recognized something in me, there is a touch of the aether to him if such a gender is appropriate, and called his creatures off.

I pointed to the sky, pressed my wrists together to show I came as a prisoner. They know of the attacks, they don’t know how woefully unprepared they are. 

Even without the communication barrier they lack the technology to defend themselves adequately, their weapons can’t penetrate the ambots steel or the Sssi-Ruuk hides.

I was taken to their elders, their bulbous heads decorated in strange fungi of many different hues that grows like hair as they rest on tripod inverse knees.

A shaman of some kind I could commune with through the aether, sharing images of the Ssi-Ruuk vessels and warriors, this he chattered back to the other in low echo tones.

They soon realized the peril they were in, but in the use of aetheric lighting to fight they saw some hope.  I was soon whisked to a gathering of their Shaman’s and Magicka warriors.

No words were spoken but we communed, sharing information on the common foe.  They painted upon my skin symbols with a woad of their tentacle God to assist me in the coming battle, I enhanced those few spears and weapons I could with stronger aetheric enchantments, it is not something I have much expertise in, I followed the powers already inculcated into the hardened stipe and obsidian blades.

It was unfortunate we were brought together on the eve of disaster for the being that self identified in their queer tongue as Djogetti, there is much to learn…but the Ssi –Ruuk approach.

<<<<>>>

Day 5487

Winter chill tickled my nose, I’m walking onward, but the snow on the mountain pass is deep.

Every time I see Yorna she is more real, and yet further away.

I want to hold her, feel her warmth against me.

I’m so cold.

She turns and smiles.

“We will be together Coryn,” her words are sad,

“I can’t help you in what comes next, but someone will, you have to trust the man with the green sword, and the red eyed monster,”

I don’t understand, I barely listen, too busy trying to push through the snow, it’s up to my chest now.


I’m in another Ssi-Ruuk Vessel, the Djogetti...they fought, most died, their fungi homes were ruined, the elderly and those covered in bulbous growths on their backs that appear to be their infants were taken along with a handful of injured warriors.

I helped where I could, but I had to get aboard.   I entered through the landing gear, nearly froze to death as the vessel broke orbit, and staggered out on a vast vessel.  Not as large as a Planet Cracker, but replete with deck upon deck of captives.

I need weapons and armour.

Day 5492

I’ve witnessed the entechment.  A being is strapped to an upright device, their very soul torn from them into a machine. 

I’ve seen it several times now.  It is no easier to remain hidden. 

One Djogetti saw me before...The leathery off white orbs that I assume are their eyes met mine as he was Enteched, the woad hi fellows had painted on me still visible on my forehead as I peeked from the grille -  I thought I heard him whisper an emotion of defiance.

I found a deposit of looted goods from myriad worlds this Ssi-Ruuk Expedition has visited.  Security within the ship is limited, the captives are held in chains and force cages, and the heat of the decks and mix of atmosphere would be fatal to most humanoids regardless.

I’ve assembled a decent set of armour and weapons in addition to those I forged on the Planet Cracker, along with two Torrent bombs. 

Now I need one of their smaller vessels, and navigational information.

The alarms are sounding, they are gathering for another attack.

 
Day 5495

I made planet fall in the landing struts of a prisoner transport and moved quickly through the ruins.  The technology on this world is more familiar.


A number of ships attempted to resist the Ssi-Ruuk, they were overwhelmed by their enteched drone fighters sheer numbers.

I found the bodies of a uniformed militia, taking up a large cloak I used it to disguise myself before coming across a handful of survivors headed toward a place called Mou-Lin.  A Vox caster is sending an automated signal to assemble there for evacuation, I suspect it is a Ssi-Ruuk deception but say nothing, merely blend into the crowd.

I can’t help these people.

As we approached the outskirts of a fortified city, Phasers on the walls keeping the Ruuk at bay - for now - I slipped away from the refugees to find another entry.

I can sense something ahead, or perhaps someone.

<<<<>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 17, 2022, 10:30:13 PM
Chapter 49 — Trinity — Relentless — Part 3

 
Day 5498

One calls himself a ‘Jeti’ the other mumbles he is a ‘Grey Jeti’.

They are the ones Yorna prophesied, the first wields a Green blade, the other is the red eyed creature.

Mou-Lin’s walls were breached, these two I encountered in the city fort's main plaza, a vast circular area bordered by half ruined houses.  They fought with their glowing blades and the Aether, but struggled against the Red -Ruuk. 

After I helped them kill the Ruuk the Red-eyed is ‘Anzat’ looked at me with terror and hope, the other, Jeti, surprised and relieved. 

Anzat knelt and and said ‘I honour the Three Goddesses of Aethas, may their Children be merciful toward me,’

I was shocked to hear such a formal greeting. 

Jeti asked if others of my kind were nearby, both were disappointed when I told them I was alone.

We retreated toward the Fortress, they had a vessel there they said. 

The Ruuk’s ambots pressed the Militia hard and in the battle Anzat was cut off from us and taken.

It took nearly a day but we finally reached their vessel upon which I write this.

Jeti is determined to rescue Anzat, I tell him it is unlikely he is alive and explain what the Entechment involved.  Jeti is saddened but not angered, he asks if I can track Anzat with the ‘Force’ using what is on board the vessel, I can.

He promises Anzat may have a way of contacting my People and asks for my help in rescuing him. 

I agree, we are preparing.

 
Day 5500

We attacked the Ruuk carrier, sliding in with the prison ships Jeti and I managed to get to Anzat mere moments before he was enteched.

I have never seen the like of the warrior Jeti.  He fights with the tranquility of an autumn stream yet even as he kills the Ssi-Ruuk he feels regret.  I cannot comprehend him.

Anzat was injured but has been able to assist us. We are moving to the bridge, we both need the navigational data there to find our way.

Anzat has mentioned he has met others of my kind, he names Valens, Jarys and Kiraea, but it has been years since he saw them, and he has no way of contacting them. 

He is surprised I have not been able to, but then Jeti mentions the XoXann Anomaly which emits negative Tachyon radiation - they say it is a time/space tear on the ‘safest’ path to the ‘Republic’ from this depth of Wild Space, but its presence makes communication distorted as linear time breaks down around it.   

Regardless he says I must pass through it to reach the others if we survive.

With the majority of the Ruuk planetside harvesting we faced only the Gold-Scaled Priest and his honour guard.  The battle was difficult, we were all injured, but Jeti succeeded in defeating the creature to Anzat and my own amazement.

Now we need only escape the ship.

 
Day 5509

I parted ways with Jeti and Anzat on Reehma. They provided me with information on an ‘Exhibition’ called the Arts of Aephordaea, and navigational information on how to reach the Republic. 

They asked about a world they are searching for called ‘Ahch’To’ or ‘Orrious’.  I had heard of neither but provided my log of Day 3771 of a mountain that seems similar to that which they sought as a way point. 

They asked if I would join them, but I explained I had to find what became of the Woman of the People on the Planet Cracker. Jeti offered his Blessing that the Force be with me, Anzat that the Goddesses guide me.  I hope their own gods help them find their path.

Anzat had given me some precious metals to purchase gear and a vessel, I made good use of it, raw phirk and other metals to forge a new sword, armour and crossbow, a fast modified Shadow Phase fighter with two seats and Dark Matter Drive.

With this ship and the navigation data from the Ruuk ship I will find the Planet Cracker.

 
Day 5541

It has been more than a month, but I have the trail.  Traders and labourers have all confirmed the Solarii Planet Crackers rough path on the Goah Route, though are unsure of where it is now. 

My ship should be fast enough to catch it if I follow the route, or catch it coming the other way.

 
Day 5550
As soon as I left Dark Space I sensed it.

The planet is a mess of oceans on each pole as vast deserts around the sun baked equator.
The dread fills me.

 
Day 5551

A money changer confirmed the Planet Cracker passed here three months ago, they traded for supplies, and dumped their waste in the deserts.

The dread draws me there, I cannot explain why.  The last of the gems Anzat left me I obtained a speeder and provisions.

 
Day 5556

Each day the sun eats at my flesh, each night I freeze.  I push on searching the ashen mounds of detritus covered by the shifting sands for something I do not want to find.

 
Day 5557

It was on a high dune overlooking the endless sea of blazing white silicone and iron sands.

I dug till by hands blistered into the beggars grave, tearing out the dried corpses one by one till I found her.

Heat and decay had taken away so much already.  I fell to my knees exhausted, defeated.

”I have to leave Coryn,” Yorna said standing in mid air before me as my tears evaporated in the instant they were shed.

“No…I need you more than ever,” I pleaded to the mirage of my mind.

She looked distracted, turning her gaze to thing I could not see.

“They’re calling my name, I can come back at last,” she said joyously,

“I don’t understand, you said you were leav…”

“Bring Ilnaea with you,” She said before vanishing beyond any reach


I woke in the dead of night, skin scorched and throat dry.  I did as she asked, collecting the relics of Ilnaea, the woman I failed to save, her skin still showing bruises and cuts endured before her body was dumped with the others.  Where I was to bring them I did not know, all I have to go on is what Anzat told me. 

But first the Goddesses Vengeance will fall..

 
Day 5562

I’ve traced the planet cracker to a system near Orbis where it has just smashed a moon of a gas giant apart.  The greedy outsider filth will feast on the moons molten core for months.  I have time to plan.

 
Day 5601

Tomorrow.

 
Day 5603

The Solarri are dead.

I knew the layout of the ship this time, more than that I no longer needed to conceal my activities.  Ilnaea rests in a sack upon the second seat of my ship.

I infiltrated among one of the regular trade vessels that come and go, made my way through the market and cornered a Solarii headman in a darkened corner.  Killing him and taking his clothes I moved through the levels, slitting throat after throat, rigging explosives with their grenades, ensuring I never took on more than a handful at a time.

It took a few hours but the Magister noticed the diminishing number of guards, alarms sounded, I headed to their barracks where a dozen were arming themselves.  My crossbow bolt slew eight, my sword four more.

I no longer concealed my efforts, destroying cameras and any who stood in my path.  The corridors of the ship limited their ability to overwhelm me, the high ceilings meant for the species that built this monstrosity made it easy for me to leap over and around them.

They brought out their larger weapons, their best troops, but I had watched the Jeti closely, how he moved in peerless defence, I could only replicate some of it, but it was more than enough against this rabble.

I was not without injury or delay, but I reached the Magister.  He was an obese flatulent thing on a throne too large for him, surrounded by the affectations of the race whose ship he occupied. 

He grinned the smile reaching each ear of his fat bald head, white from too much time in space, and pressed a button.  The floor gave out and I fell into a snare filled with rabid Ruuk.

They were ferocious, turned feral by their captivity, it was his last mistake.  My first action was not to defend, but to quickly hurl one up telekinetically before the trap door closed into his office.   

The fight was long and painful. With my teeth I tore the arteries under thick scaled hide from the last one before ripping my way out.

The magister was still alive, his guards dead around the feral Ruuk.  He was bleeding the Ruuk had clawed his fat belly.

“Who…why…” he asked

I never answered.

<<<<>>>>

The Planet Cracker has met its fate, the destroyer of planets I sent on a collision course with the gas giant whose moon it had taken.

Many escaped, but not all.

There is nothing for me here now.  It will be some weeks before I can reach the Xoxann Anomaly and the ‘Republic’. 

Goddesses guide me.

<<<<>>>>

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unification

Bakura was as far from anywhere as could be, as nowhere as Jakku apart from the slowly growing mining colony. 

Perfect enough for a fugitive from the Pykes to lay low, perhaps find work and resources to build stockpiles of his deadly creation.

Ideal for a former prisoner to trade a Chandrillan Alpha vessel for something less conspicuous to Wild Space Traders.

And the first port for a relentless hunter coming from Wild space through the XoXann anomaly during a burst of negative Tachyon radiation that had twised him back several decades in time to start his search for his People.

There was only one orbital trade ring, only a handful of stores.

Coryn trembled with expectation as he felt the presence, Lysan approached slowly as the younger man turned.  Each could see the scars slowly healing on their face, and those that never would on their souls.

For the first time in decades Lysan felt something other than hate. Sympathy. 

“You’ve come a long way…” he said trying to recall the face,
“You too…I don’t...” Coryn couldn’t pick the face
“Lysan,”
“Coryn,”
“Are there others alive?”
Coryn nodded “I think so, an alien told me of some of the young guardians,”
“We can’t trust Outsiders,” Lysan replied immediately “The few People I was with remain enslaved to a mercenary species, the Ailon, we will need powerful weapons to free them, if they still live,”
“I have none,” Coryn replied sheepishly
Lysan clapped him on the shoulder feeling muscle built from toil and war, crossbow and sword on the younger man's back both well used.
“You are one,”
“I have some,” A thin voice came from behind them.

Pale skin, staggering on weak feet as muscles rebuilt, data terminal scomp links where his hands should be Arryn staggered toward them, his assistance droid behind him.

Coryn and Lysan were astonished, but quickly realised this meeting was truly the Goddesses will, a Trinity reunited after dire struggle and suffering to take vengeance upon the outsiders.

Arryn sat quickly, his legs still not recovered, the others joined him.

“I have a substance I developed while enslaved, Naqxium, powerful explosive potential…” Arryn whispered, his voice already so thin it was barely audible.

“I need only a delivery mechanism and target,”

Coryn pursed his lips unsure.
“I…may have one…the Outsider may have been lying but he spoke of something called the Arts of…...” he made a gesture so they would understand, not speaking the sacred name of the Goddess. “...exhibition”
Lysan sneered at the Outsider blasphemy.

“Clearly a deception then,” he growled “There is no limit to the Outsiders depravity,”  Lysan stretched his hand to the center of the small table

“But together brothers, we will set this hideous ‘exhibition’ to nuclear fire and then….then show this galaxy what a Trinity of lost brothers can do,”

Unbreakable, Unstoppable and Relentless the three men put their hands over the others in unity with each other, and hatred for Outsiders.

<<<<>>>>




Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on February 22, 2022, 10:45:38 PM
Three VERY interesting components of this Aethan Trinity:

Unbreakable-Arryn
Despite the debilitations given him by the Pykes, Arryn's patience is indicative of not only his gene-editing but also the long game that ultimately sees him freed (and the Pykes punished).  I've read many times that the most dangerous person is the one with infinite patience...and Arryn proves such an axiom correct.  One wonders: just what else does he have planned with his Naqxium devices?

Unstoppable-Lysan
If the Vhal'Dan Cataphracts had a berserker in the form of the Hamask Sora, then Lysan is surely the Aethan equivalent.  Despite suffering from hibernation sickness, starvation, and disorientation, Lysan makes short work of BOTH sides, Alphas and Convicts.  And the pathetic attempt by the Zeltron twins to pheromonally "entice" him was laughable in both its attempt as well as results.

...Still, I'm certain that this won't be the last time that we see the effects of a Zeltron's pheromones  ;)

Relentless-Corwyn
I liked this presentation, reminiscent of "Flowers For Algernon" (at least in its exposition).  Plus: it looks as though Corwyn's own quest takes him through the near past through the present and into the near future (relative to the Civil War at least).  And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought that I recognized two familiar faces: the red-eyed Anzat and the "Pure" Jedi...and among the Ssi-ruuk, too...

Hmm, perhaps Soryu and Kazic can convince Corwyn that NOT all Outsiders are targets for, well, Naqxium Bombs  ;)

With this new Trinity, I also wonder what will happen when they finally DO see the Arts of Aphroaeadite exhibit.  Will their adherence to their indoctrination (combined with the horrors that they've experienced) blind them to the truth of their own People's message...or will they become another casualty in a long line since the Devastation?

Meta-note: Wonderful foreshadowing here; and the posters are just BAD@$$  ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 24, 2022, 02:47:08 AM
Chapter 50 — Conflagration — Ignition — Part 1
Galtea
Dutiful though weary under a shattered sky two dozen or so members of the engineering corps loaded the hovering Aertemisaea Class Destroyer with crate upon crate of rare minerals, choice artefacts and the last Kyber Crystals Lus’Phor – the ruined wafting cloud of shattered rock that now hovered dangerous above - would ever produce.

Two figures in Oblivion clad watched the procession of valuable items being hauled away as payment for services rendered. 

They stood in a personal bubble of emptiness that Ryshhk K’rrmerii opposite them envied.

As Kazic began organising relief efforts he had tasked his trusted Wookie friend to ensure that ‘all debts were paid’…though Ryshhk was sure, given he had been provided with one of the last remaining full squads of Sentinels, he was also to ensure the Oblivion warriors did not loiter.

He needn’t have worried, Valens and Jarys had no intention of staying any longer on this wretched world than necessary. 

Their last actions on Hephaestus base,Istic Fortress and Lus’Phor been a shattering near losses, only charitably called a draw - and seen them nearly destroyed by the Thought Bomb that detonated soon after.

As a force they were spent. 

Months of endless combat on every level had taken its toll, of course they were designed for such, but even Aethans had their limits, and the Thought Bombs nefarious effects were a poison they needed to avoid.

Valens stood closely by his brother under the protective bubble of a Null Orb – the Aether countering device rapidly losing charge, eyeing off the Wookie willing the last few containers to be loaded faster.

The backwash from the thought bomb was so intense the others, not even recovered from the attack battle – were sheltering within an re-tuned Aetheric Nexus chamber on the Aethenaea that insulated them from the effects much like the Null Orb.  Even the otherwise Aether Dead Extolled were showing fatigue.

Jarys could only imagine what it was doing to the Wookie who stood arms across his chest opposite him.  The ship over their heads hovered atop the ruined foundations of what had been a residential district, utterly flattened by their own Oblivion Rod Bombardment in the opening hours of their intervention.

A servo-hauler creaked and a heavy shipping container full of the only samples of Naquadah on Galtea nearly fell. 

In other times either the Vhal’Dan or Aethans would’ve used telekinesis to prop it up – beneath the ongoing storm of the vergence that was not an option.

<That Wookie…he’s related to the Sentinel isn’t he…> Jarys noted to his brother
<Yshrrk…yes I smelt it in his ship, a cousin or nephew perhaps> Valens replied

Jarys retained great respect for the Jedi High Sentinel Yshrrk K’rrmerii, their fight on Myrkr had come perilously close to ending in mutual destruction.  While this relation Ryshhk was not yet as strong as the elder Wookie, Jarys suspected it was only a matter of time before he exceeded him.

He had no desire to test the creature.

Ryshhk for his part eyed the Oblivion creatures with equal parts dread and curiosity. 

Kazic had not detailed who -or rather what - they were. Ryshhk had no intention of ever asking.

He felt it better he did not know, from what he had seen there was more danger and temptation than enlightenment in such knowledge…the only fact he did know was that Kazics adoptive Daughter Aresaea had a deep connection and wore their armour.

Two droids laden with carefully sealed boxes marked with the Seal of the Kage’s Vault approached – within each of the boxes Ryshhk knew were unique Force Artefacts of considerable value, a number of them artefacts belonging to Vhal’Dan warriors from the New Sith Wars.  It pained him to see such icons of the Vhal’dans heritage given over to these creatures…

But if Kazic had his secrets on the payment, Ryshhk had his own.

When he left Anson’s service he had absconded with numerous valuable artefacts and hidden them away.  When he first pledged himself to Kazic, Ryshhk had been eager to tell him where he had hidden them in case they were of some use.

“Do Not!” Kazic had suddenly snapped with fear in his eyes,
“That is…” the Anzat quickly tried to soothe
“…it is better that only you know their whereabouts and the content,”
<But if I were to fall in battle…> Ryshhk had protested
“Enough on this, we have other matters to discuss,”

The conversation so strange at the time made clear sense now, if Kazic did not know of the artefacts, the Oblivion Creatures did not know to ask them of him.

Kazic had protected what he could.

<He’s hiding something…> Jarys noted, even without the Aether he could tell from the way the Wookie stood, the way he growled with the occasional order to speed the process of loading the ship.

<Perhaps> Valens replied their communication across instant text on their helmets in the absence of their telepathic connection due to the null field.
<Let them have the dregs tainted by the Thought Bomb,>

Despite their numerous injuries and damage sustained to valuable materiel Valens overall strategic goals had been accomplished.

They had tested their Mark II Armour and Hades Weapons to good effect, the Aertemsiaea Destroyers had proven their effectiveness against a modern and well equipped Fleet, and their overall tactics – conventional, espionage, and Aetheric had been successful. 

There had been failures, Anson had countered Valens disruption of Temporal distortions attempting to blind him to future events, the Cataphracts had proven more than a match for them, and their shock and awe tactics had a far more limited lifespan than expected. 

Now they had months of combat experience and data to review and improve upon all those facets…and on top of that, whilst they had not acquired all they might’ve from Hephaestus base, they had more than enough from there and The Cataphract Sora’s unique armour to begin developing a new Mark III armour integrating Vhal’Dan nanotechnology.

The last of the containers loaded, the Engineers could not get out from under the Oblivion ship’s shadow fast enough.

It was none too soon, the Null Orb would be at barely 5 per cent charge, they needed to get on board beneath the somewhat  protective Blackstone hull quickly, break orbit then retire to the insulated Nexus until they got out of the system.

Ryshhk waited for some kind of communication. 

None came, the two black figures simply leapt in perfect unison the 15 metres into the ships underside hangar – astounding give they were still in a null bubble if Ryshhk sensed correctly…their biological strength and speed even without the Force was a thing to be reckoned with.

Without word or warning the hangar door closed seamlessly into a blank hard surface as if there had never been an opening and the vessel rumbled the loose dust and debris as it began to ascend.

The Wookie remained stone still as he watched the Blue drives push the ship through the dust choked skies till the debris cloud obscured it completely.

By the Ancestors, Trees and even the Shadow Lands he prayed to never see their kind again.

<<<<>>>>

Reeda
Preparations were close to completion, the Ro'ik chuun m'arh was now ready, filled with all they would need to survive for several years as they sought a new home of their own.

Lengthy and thin it was covered in the sand of the ocean floor as aquatic creatures flitted around the Yorik coral lump that served as an artificial reef at the edge of the continental shelf.  Antire micro ecosystems glowed and thrived in the gaps where extranwl boots were now growing to fullness, all would soon be washed away when it rose from sea to stars.

Nerak, her trusted aide, piloted the Coralskipper beneath the waves. He had stashed resources from other tasks little by little to aid the growth already strong due to the verdancy of this world, so much more real than the mouldy too often used growth chamber on World Ships among the Main Fleet of the Yuuzhan Vnog.

That fertility was the only thing she would miss on this world.

The time for them to leave was coming fast, and with great risk.

Under the Treaty with the Chiss, any other faction or beings on Aethas were considered the Aethan’s ‘guest’ and under their protection. She knew these Chiss wanted them - to experiment, analyse and ‘learn’ from them…just as Lucovis and Sicara had.  The moment they left the system they were fair game.

The break had to be quick and clean. She was confident the vessel she gazed at through the eyes of a Occtopi-meld - the pink splotchy biot creature whose visal neural signals were tuned to her own temporarily pulsing seven limbs to propel through the deep water around the vessel - would be able to avoid Chiss sensors and any tracking attempts, their sensors were not attuned to pick them up like the Aethans were.

She could curse her foolishness, she had helped the Aethans develop methods of detecting Yuuzhan Vong vessels when she still fervently believed them to be Avatars of the Gods, believing they would help her free the other Shamed Ones and liberate those held in caste shackles when the Main Fleet arrived in a century or more…

Instead she had handed over the keys to her own shackles.

The pallid green sac beside her thrummed and pulsed gently with muscle contractions that stirred the contents. Carried by a servile reptilian Chazrach she would not let this precious but small volume leave her side.

Detaching her eyes from the gluggy Occtopi-meld tentacle she raised one of her many Shaper fingers to pierce the sac, a sealant fluid around the puncture making sure it did not leak.

The needle like finger suckled in a sample of the condensed heated fluid that would rapidly turn to gas when exposed to normal atmosphere.

Taste proteins in her hand analysed the sample, most of the fluid was a rapidly spreading transmission vector to carry the viral cells within.

The virus was imperfect, pieced together from skin, blood and hair samples flaked by the Aethans while they trained with Yhum, carefully collected by Scor-Beetles that she had re-trained to, instead of merely recycling the organic material, deliver it to her in secret.

With this she had isolated a receptor within aethan pores intended to absorb carbon dioxide for their photosynthetic respiration, typically it reacted only to a pure molecule of the gas, the receptor wrapped it then absorbed it in a small vacuole.

Her virus was structured to hold out a Carbon dioxide molecule with only the most tentative grip to the main viral body, once docked it would compress so it would be drawn into the aethan cell, there it could set to work in an…inelegant…but effective destructive mechanism

The cells consumed proteins to replicate, their waste product a powerful acid that degenerated the current and nearby cells further. 

It was based on a planet killing toxin used by the Vong to bombard verdant worlds from orbit, the most powerful they had brought with them from the main fleet.

It was the only thing she was reasonably certain might overcome the Aethans biological and Aether based healing and immune responses.  Of course there was no way to test it, and she only had one sac, 15 odd litres to disperse.

If they would not listen, if they would not set her and her people free…

She would’ve once prayed it did not come to that…now…divested of such superstition, she merely hoped.

<<<<>>>>

Ar’On’Dir

For weeks, months…nothing but the slow increase in quota’s for the malefic ores matched by extra workers with each rotation and an adequate increase in rations per person.

The ultra-dense black dust was so thick under his fingers by the end of each shift Aron could barely control the motion of his arms when it was washed off as his body felt three times lighter - all the runoff of course carefully collected in grimy vast beneath the shared shower facilities.

He had only managed to make contact with the Jedi Master Tnbu once more, the Legions eyes were everywhere, timing it between changes of guard during a rare and especially heavy daylight electro storm.

The Jedi assured Aron that Kage Odjina had been informed of his plight and the Jedi Council were working with the Mak’Tor to send an investigative and rescue party, but had been delayed - according to Tnbu both orders were stretched thin, and many Knights in the midst of ongoing investigations and missions they couldn’t abandon.

Aron’s stomach had dropped, Odjina, Li and Ho’li - eve Jo - would be working fast as they could, but Aron appreciated the galaxy was bigger than him, there were threats nearer to home, and his own experience was evidence that the Deep Core was a very dangerous place to traverse, obtaining a properly equipped ship, updated star charts and supplies all took time and credits they might not have on hand….And they had likely moved on with with life…

That last thought had struck hard. Would his wife still be just that…or had she…

For months amidst the monotony of his role that thought haunted him, giving him a grim mental exercise to obsess over as time passed. Jealousy, anger and grief were first, but acceptance, understanding followed. 

If Ho’Li had moved on, he would not hold it against her, he had been lost so long assuming he had perished was logical, and he wouldn’t want her denying herself.  They had always wanted a large family after all.

Then one day everything changed.

He returned from the depths of the darkest veins far beneath the surface t find the dusty platforms and tread worn metal walkways a flurry as Legionnaires scrambled and rushed to and fro.

“Wha…” Two Legionnaires bumped past him, Prefect Tharrum shouting commands.

“Pre..Prefect,” he pushed through the throng of plate durasteel moving boxes and rations
“What is happening,”

Behind his plumed helmet the Prefect nodded to the Director of the Mines.

“New Orders, five Cohorts are to return to Prakith immediately…we will leave one behind,”

“Why?”

Tharrum shrugged, of the sometimes cold Legionnaires he was the most talkative on the long patrols.

“A general muster of as many Legions as possible I hear, we’re joining with the 4th enroute, something big is coming Drift, I can feel it,”

Aron could feel it too, in a far more visceral way - the Songs cadence was building fast, the percussive march of a thousand boots to war.

<<<<>>>>

The Shadow Lords

Four hundred and Fourteen humans bowed in silent veneration as six ‘Lesser’ Lords strode past in light eating armour.

Each one of these was still nearly two meters tall and several hundred kilograms, exuding a micro gravity that added physical force to the soul trembling presence.

Behind them came a brief respite in the form of the Ash Centurions - the most decorated and vicious of Imperial Prakith’s Legions soldiers, serving alongside the Lords that had turned a backward deep core volcanic dump stumbling into slow barbarism and starvation into a militarized expansionary state.

The Lesser Lords stood in a semi circle around the ancient Dagger Throne as the very air became dense and rippled with a cold focus unknown in the heated walls of the Volcanic stone crafted Eternal Fortress.

The Shadow Lords of Prakith in their superhuman terror strode past the throngs of their human thralls.

The humans encased in crisp dark uniforms highlighted by brown-yellow epaulettes and ceremonial swords were mere tools for Ninth and the Remnant, living inputs to achieve Purgatio Astra.

The Ash Centurions in Phrik Armour arranged themselves with Electro-Staffs crackling around the throne as the Shadow Lords turned to their servants, Ninth gesturing for them to rise.

The human resources required certain inputs to function appropriately, performing these rituals was for Ninth the equivalent of maintaining her armor.

“Loyal Officers of Prakith, the time has come to take the next step toward reclaiming your Preeminence among the Stars.” standing behind the Dagger throne she flicked her hand to activate an ancient green flickering holomap of the system they would invade.

“Witness, the lazy, indolent inheritors of the once mighty Empress Teta, cowardly, insipid, hoarding their wealth and food.  This world can be yours if you have the Will and Fortitude to Claim it,”

Chancellor Teshk nodded beside the Dagger Throne, the proximity to the Shadow Lords was never comfortable, but he was bearing it slightly better each time. Alongside him were the Eleven Legates, Commanders of the Eleven Legions, Legate Simketh first among them, appointed to lead the invasion.

The Shadow Lords never promised victory, never guaranteed prosperity, they treated their subjects as adults, stating clearly progress was in their own hands, the Shadow Lords could unify and guide them, assist with their divine power, but if the Prakthians wished to advance, it would be by the strength of their own hands.

“This day your Legions march along a Glorious Path,”
The Remnant had adopted the term ‘Glorious Path’ as a single label for the vast social and economic change they had implemented since coming to power, the word ‘Path’ intentional for it would indicate to the petty humans the work needed to achieve Glory was ongoing

She gestured to her fellow Aethans

“Our Power will strengthen your hand, but Victory is yours to claim,”

Ninth’s studies indicated giving reasonably educated adult humans a belief they held agency, and attainable but valued goals achievable by their own efforts with the promise of assistance increased compliance and loyalty far more than outright repression. 

She used this Glorious Path as she would use the right oil for her Gauss cannons barrel, to ensure everything flowed smoothly and efficiently in the direction she desired.

Her hand swept across to the assembled officers, generals and Directors of the Empires variegated civilian arms.

“For Prakith,” she finished, to stimulate jingoism she pushed out a faux emotion of ‘pride’ in the aether, amplified by her fellow Aertemisaeans.

“FOR PRAKITH” the servile outsiders cried with glee.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 24, 2022, 02:49:42 AM
Chapter 50 — Conflagration — Ignition — Part 2
Milaea

(https://i.ibb.co/cyyTNYR/Rot-A-Conflagration-Opening.png) (https://ibb.co/511c5KC)

Still cold of the caverns of the Seior, and the gentle rhythmic pattern of the melt water from the glaciers above was meant to be calming.

Instead it irritated her...or rather Milaea irritated herself.  She thought on Yoda’s dictum - most places contained ‘only what you take with you’

Tension, discomfort, annoyance, anger and hurt was laden upon her.

She had spent the last months trying to focus on healing the twelve survivors of the hideous breeding pen on Rorak, tweaking their metabolisms and hormones with carefully measured doses of Shatterpoint healing, synthesised Aethan hormones and nutrient mixes to stimulate their natural regenerative capacity to kick start.

In that she had made progress, but on her own it was incredibly slow, and often repetitive, performing the same three to four hour long operations twelve times over.

All the while the thorn in the back of her mind nagged.

The argument with Ari had hurt her more than she could articulate, more than she had expected.  She didn’t want to say she ‘knew better’ than Ari, she had hoped Ari was wise enough to understand how obvious a disaster Aethan intervention on Galtea would be.

But there was the real issue.  

Of course Ari knew what the People would do there, she could be under no illusions after Dathomir that Karintha and Valens would use another systems war to test weapons and loot knowledge and artefacts.  

And Ari didn’t care.  

She believed protecting her parents was an end that justified the means the Aethan force would use, that the Vhal’Dan would be decimated and looted in the process was an irrelevance to the need to keep her adoptive parents safe.  

An intractable disagreement that turned to outright anxiety as Milaea worried for Ari deeply, and…missed her desperately.

Milaea was so used to being near her that her sudden absence, physically and emotionally, had caused a feeling of loss she hadn’t expected, a part of her she had never even known was there was suddenly gone, and its loss burnt.

Her breath trembling, she tried to meditate and calm her mind in the cavern.  Focusing on the here and now, the small pool in the center of the cavern, the pots of ochres and paints waiting for her automatic art should she feel the need.

A half sleep uncomfortable for constantly shifting her sitting position gradually took hold, flashes of the usual images, future wars, green faced emperors, mechanical black Sith, a lone pair of Jedi flashed past.

These she had learned to tune out, the galaxy was big, the future uncertain and running to prevent every disaster she foresaw when every interaction changed them was a path to insanity.

Despite her intent she was unconsciously drawn to peer toward Galtea, toward Ari...just to see how…

As she turned her mental gaze a shadow lengthened.

She ignored it at first but it grew…

Then Blazed….

It was, roughly ‘north’ of her in galactic terms, and it demanded attention.

Almost unable to stop herself, as if the Goddesses themselves were insisting she watch Milaea looked into the nuclear fire.

Images of lustful sport she recognised as being of the Arts of Aephordaea exhibition she had posed for what seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago turned to melted ash, crowds little more than silhouettes around them screamed with voiceless open maws before bolts of black cut them down.

Three figures strode through, slaughtering with righteous glee...but that wasn’t enough behind them...or rather above them…

Six figures, huge black Lords of Shadow unleashed the fury of writhing humanoid flames upon a sleeping world.  

They broke the bonds of six of eight, and they joined them in their hellish crusade destroying the last resistance…

And then they found each other - Trinity, Lost Soldiers and Lords of Shadow met in the blazing ruins.

The smaller beings, now nine in all knelt before the Six as the listless terrified populace was bubbled into pits, their bodies crushed into an undifferentiated blob, the blood - no life force - running upward into the base of Nine Oblivion Columns…

then Eighteen...Then Twenty Seven….

then when these were filled….they went to the next planet...and the next...and the next….

With each conquest the Shadow Lords built more Obelisks, each powered by the death of millions, the rapacious need for more and more meant they slaughtered trillions as the wave of darkness enfolded the galactic North.

She looked hard as she could at the Six giants, their minds were cold as ice, indifferent and calculating but, by the Goddesses, wickedly ingenious.

Milaea was shaking, her body pumping extra blood around her outer dermis layers to cool her even though the cavern was well below freezing as all heat was drawn into her like the aether she was burning.

She knew this wasn’t the inevitable future, but it was highly Probable...and worse it was imminent - days, possibly hours.

Her eyes opening she saw what her hands had wrought in ochre and pigment upon the wall - her hands in a form of 'Automatic painting' had drawn the final scene upon the wall - planets cracked from within spewing by blue-white fire as a substance of incredible destructive potential was teleported by obelisk arrays into their cores.

With a horrified gasp she ran out.

<<<<>>>>

“Where is IT!” she yelled across the comm to a blanching Lyr.

“T...teta...Empress Teta system before we bring the statues back for repainting and repair….”

Lyr was used to his masters making sudden mad demands with veiled threats, but of all of them Milaea had been unfailingly kind, sympathetic even - so far as a demi-god could be toward mortal thralls.  

Something must be very very wrong.  Time for Lyr to cower beneath his desk on Fresia.

Milaea slammed the comm shut rubbing her head.

“What the frell,” Sofa demanded, rushing in having sensed a moving chaos in the aether about her sister.

“We have to go now...take everything we can to stop it…the...the Hecate

“The Hecate? It’s barely ready and where,” she gripped Milaea staring into her mad eyes.

“What is going on?!” she demanded her wet black hair falling over half her face in the rush to get to Milaea out of a several hour long bath.

“We need to get to Teta, something terrible is going to happen, not in the future...but now actually now…”

“Are you sure this is happening and we need to be there,” Sofa didn’t question the veracity of Milaea’s vision, only the need for them to do anything about it when the future was not written.

Calming more Milaea nodded grimly
“The Arts exhibition is going to be attacked on Teta by...I think...some lost People who don’t understand the intent behind it.  They have military grade weapons, Hundreds if not thousands will die...but there are more...more People who are...I don’t know how but huge - physically huge and Old who want to do even worse..harvest millions of life forms to power obelisk weapons.”

“I think I got most of that…” Sofa replied
“But you’re not seeing Us, like Karintha or Selaena are you?” Milaea, out of her tentative hold, was already striding to the hangar of the Mount Aelia complex.

“No...they felt like strangers to me...People yes but not ones I know...they were cold almost…”

She paused briefly reflecting on the image of the giants
“Almost like they were dead, yet still going through the motions like a machine...or by instinct…”

Sofa breathed heavily, when Aethans acted on ‘instinct’ it didn’t end well for Outsiders.

“Then we better go,”

<<<<>>>>


Trinity

Steam hissed from the dead human’s chest.

Coryn and Arryn stepped over the body, Lysan stepped on it.

They had glided the modified Alpha Transport in just under the bulky wing of a luxury liner to a private residence on Teta, Arryn’s extraordinary precision ensuring they didn’t collide on the bumpy atmospheric entry.

When the Lord noticed an extra ship on his pad he had protested. Lysan seeing no profit in interacting shot him, then the rest of the crew, guests and panicking manor security detail.

Coryn was somewhat uncomfortable with the disposable way Lysan treated the Outsiders, he well knew they had their uses as friends rather than corpses.

Arryn seemed indifferent, striding through the Manor to find the opulent terminal to unlock the richly decorated Speeders and zero in on the location of the Blasphemy.

The Arts of Aephroadaea’ Exhibition Final Tour at Seto V Memorial Convention Centre Cinnagar, entry 30 Credits - Warning Explicit Content scrolled through his mind as his mechanical appendages disconnected from the scomp dock.

“I have it,” he said, voice becoming more mechanical with each passing day to Coryn’s ears, even as his body slowly recovered the depredations enslavement had inflicted.

Lysan never smiled, but his face moved a fraction in what might be regarded as conditional satisfaction.

He checked the detonator strapped to his wrist for the bomb that Coryn carried on his back.  The Naqxium Explosive Arryn and worked to develop for the Pykes would be tested first on these Outsiders who blasphemed the Goddesses by appropriating their image and likeness.

“We kill immediately,” Lysan grunted.

Coryn stifled a breath.

“Something troubles you,” the intense elder man turned on him.

“I wonder…this exhibition…perhaps we have misunderstood its purpose, the Outsiders who told me to seek it seemed genuine in believing i was the way to find others,”

Lysan scoffed at the thought

“They were luring you to your death, only by the Dread Goddesses mercy did we find each other,”

The harsh words caused Coryn to glance away,

Lysan realized he had been too stern, he the more trusting man's shoulders.

“The Outsiders mean us only harm and exploitation, if they seem to have helped us or acted honestly it is a mere trick of their perverse insanity, we must not be fooled brother,”

Coryn nodded, allowing the bitterness of his long unsuccessful quest and loss of even his dreams of Yorna to bite.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

Rubbing her head Ari groggily straightened out from her half sleep on the floor of the Nexus chamber.

She felt the pseudo motion of a jump to hyperspace and the pressing burden of the Thought Bomb’s shockwave lifted from her head.  

But a feeling that she could only compare to what lesser beings considered a ‘hangover’ remained.

The final moments of her time on Galtea had been an emotionally and physically painful rush.

The scar of her condemnation of her father - or perhaps the admission that the Kazic who had wanted her help on Galtea was no longer the Kazic who had rescued her from Yavin - was fresh and itching.   The fatigue from healing Saani numbed her fingers, the Thought bombs wake scratched at her connection to the aether, only slowly smoothing even light years distant.

A small plate of food and canister of gormin milk had been left for her, after flopping inelegantly to consume both she slowly made her way to the bridge and one of only two other People she could sense on the vast Destroyer, noting as she entered the statue of Aethenaea watching lovingly above the consoles when she had fallen asleep on the Aephrodaea.

Jarys in the pilot's chair turned to see Ari, her hair an utter mess, eyes dark and red, heart swollen and pained.

Without hesitation he went straight to her, her smaller frame falling into his embrace.

“You should go to one of the rooms, sleep some more,” he recommended, ironically in Ari’s opinion, he looked like death warmed up, massive bandages across his neck, a substantial part of his face bacta patched and nutrient drips attached to his back.  

She shook her head
“Where are we? Where is everyone?”

“Halfway along the Rimma Trade route out of the Kathol Sector, we’ll drop out before Eriadu shortly,” He replied as she pulled back.

“Kiraea is asleep in the cabins here, everyone else is split between the Aephroadea and Persephaea, Valens is alone with the Extolled on the Aertemisaea.”

“Any word from home,” she asked a spark of hope he didn’t fail to notice, but had to unfortunately scupper.

“None, the Thought Bomb has interfered with our Link orbs, We’ll need to clean and repoint them when we get back, until then no contact with Aethas,”

The disappointment of not being able to speak with Milaea, to tell her...Ari wasn’t even sure yet...she just needed to talk to her, made her scramble for alternatives.

“What about regular comms?”

“Still a mess from the Ansonites scrap codes, the Chiss Anti-viral software is chipping away and has it isolated, but until Evyn or Adaea have time to finish it off they are off line...at the moment we’re all flying independent,”

She plodded herself in the co-pilots seat, the tunnel of hyperspace a yawning gulf of twisted blue before her on the view screen.

The enormity of everything began to weigh on her as the backwash from the thought bombs miasma lifted.

Milaea had been right, Kazic had given into the temptation of using the People - Ari herself.  All this she could’ve have accepted, understood, forgiven even.

But dismissing them as soon as Anson was beaten

...your People are no longer needed here.  Or wanted…. Kazic had cast her aside as soon as he got the victory he wanted.  

And the elders, Valens, Kiraea, Karintha, had known all along and made sure to harvest all they could in resources and experience from the conflict Ari had brought them into to save her parents.

Galtea, the planet Ari had found a home, was a wreck, the Vhal’Dan who had accepted her for the most part a bloodied shadow of their former self.  All because of Kazic’s failings as a leader, as a man, as a father.

It was painful enough to have lost her father.

Ari couldn’t bear it if she lost her - not friend - she wouldn’t use that euphemism anymore Saani had taught her not to waste time dancing about such - her beloved Milaea as well.

She had to talk to her, tell her how she felt, apologize for how wrong she had been, and pray by the mercy of Aephrodaea Milaea felt the same.

“You want to talk about it,” Jarys said, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, he knew he wasn’t the one Ari longed to speak with, but he could be there to settle her anxiety until she could.

“About my father,” Ari breathed out heavily
“I said all I needed to him. I don’t want to lose Milaea as well,”

For a scarred battle hardened face his expression was incredibly sympathetic, a hand that had torn heads from shoulders and was missing the tips of fingers - rapidly regrowing - soft as feathers on her shoulder.

“You won’t,”

<<<<<>>>>>

Avatar and Atheist

“We’re leaving immediately in the Hecate, send the rest of the Warriors and a retinue of Shapers and intendants on a Yorik-Trema to the Docks,”

The villip trembled with ruffles of leathery skin in the form of the So called Avatar of Yun-Harla, Milaea who spoke with the righteous assumption of obedience fitting to a god.

“No,” Reeda replied firmly

The Vilip was already deflating back into its resting state when it suddenly snapped back to life.

“What?”

“No we have sent enough of our people to this war on Galtea, we will send no more for your foreign adventures,”

Milaea stared astounded at the refusal to obey, the villip image of Reeda showing a determined expression she had never seen on the Vong woman before.

Milaea was already on a transport headed to the Docks hidden in the accretionary rings around the Gas giant Aephrodaea where the Hecate waited, absent its Obelisk array yes, but still an enormously powerful Super Destroyer that Milaea hoped could, if needed, end the spreading apocalypse she had foreseen by if nothing else shredding the Shadow Giants ability to get offworld until everyone arrived back from Galtea.

“Reeda, this is important, thousands of lives are…”

“Too many of my people's lives have been sacrificed to your wars; it ends now!” Reeda snapped
“Whatever debt we owe you for freeing us from the Prefect and Sicara’s laboratories, sanctuary on your world and protection from the Chiss has been repaid a dozen times over,”

Any other time Milaea would have agreed. But this was not any other time.

“Reeda this isn't the right time...come with me we can discuss the future of our two peoples enroute to Teta…”

“No, you will not dictate a time and place for negotiation, for there will be none, we are not slaves, and you are not gods,”

The fact was one Milaea cognitively agreed with, she was well aware of Reeda’s religious doubts as to the Aethans status as Avatars...yet to hear it spoken out loud was a needle in Milaea’s heel as she ran to avert a larger disaster and made her reaction defensive.

“We do not have time for this argument, if you don't want to go fine, connect me to the Priests and Warriors, I’ll ask them directly as individuals,”

Reeda shook her head.

“None will join you, all those who remain know the Truth as I do, we are forging our own path now, I hope you will not stand in our way and we can part as equals.”

It was a lie, of those on Aethas 36 were still loyal to the False-Gods.  Nerak and his cadre were already en-route to ‘pacify’ them.  Then once away from the false Avatars they could be re-educated in the Secular Truth.  

Accepting she wouldn’t get any further Milaea shifted tone.

“We’ll discuss this when everyone is back from Galtea,”

“We may be gone before then,” Reeda replied, behind her outside of the Vilips visual range the intendants and shapers were collecting up all they could for transfer to the Ro'ik chuun m'arh.

That stunned Milaea even more, Reeda had clearly been planning this for sometime, waiting for when the Aethans were all offworld to make her move.

Both women after all knew full well Karintha and the others would never let them leave, never relinquish a source of such advanced biotechnology and fanatical warriors.  More simply the Extolled knew too much about Aethas and the Aethans to ever be allowed freedom.  

A Truth Milaea had consciously avoided considering until now she was forced to.

“This won’t be without consequences Reeda,” Milaea’s statement was not a threat but a certainty.  

Milaea was not Matriarch, and even if she were she could never build the community consensus upon which the Matriarchy relied on such critical matters to permit the Extolled to leave - frankly she wouldn’t try.

Reeda knew this only too well.

“I know,”

A sad realisation was shared that from this point forward they were on opposing sides despite their best efforts to avoid such over the last few years.  

Milaea’s People could never accede to the Extolled’s liberation, Reeda’s Truth and self worth could never accept servitude under False Gods again.

“Good luck Reeda Kwn,” Milaea finished sadly

“May the Force be with you Milaea,” Reeda replied with genuine warmth as the villips went flacid.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on February 24, 2022, 02:50:19 AM
Chapter 50 — Conflagration — Ignition — Part 3
Remnant
The Grand Fleet of Prakith was ready at last.

Assembled from across their burgeoning stellar empire, 35,000 Legionnaires on 500 vessels paused at a juncture on the Byss run.

Years of work would be tested to the limit in the space of hours as the invasion of the Empress Teta System began.

The Tetans had no idea they were coming.

The Mining Guild that had de facto power over the carbonite rich system and still considered the Prakthians ‘raiders’ and ‘pirates’, their intelligence from spies masquerading as deep core traders out of Mamzer on Teta indicated 1000 Ailon Nova Guard the Guild had hired to ‘deal’ with the Prakthians were still in the system - the only true opposition given the lazy state of the Tetan navy.

Before their slumber Teta had been a bastion of the Republic against the Sith mini-Kingdoms of the Deep Core, dozens of Warlords had tried to take the system and falled at its staunch defences.  A curious irony she would succeed where the Sith, who in the end had destroyed the Technocracy, had failed.

The Alion were a competent and powerful force, a species so dedicated to war they sought any chance to fight and lived as nomadic mercenaries the equal of what the Mandalorian had been in the times of the Crusades, not the divided scavenging clans the Republics crackdown had made them.

The Remnants advantage was Kisaea and the other ‘Tribals’ they had rescued from the Ailon. 

Standing in their relatively new Oblivion armour, scraped and battered from the successful defeat of an Ailon force on a Carbonite mining world, the six ‘People’ knew how the Ailon thought and operated, providing an incalculable advantage. 

More than this they burnt with the instinctive need for retribution that would power them through the filthy Ailon.

Even so the poor military technology of Prakith meant it led to an estimated required ratio of 10 Legionnaires to defeat 1 Ailon, a price Ninth did not even flinch to pay to capture Teta and its resources, sentient and technological.

<All units in position> The ever professional Seventh indicated from the Hand of Shadow the secondary command vessel after the Glory of Prakith upon which Ninth was commanding, the bustling staff in the unadorned industrial looking bridge giving the ‘Shadow Lord’ a wide berth.

The ships were purely functional the best that could be made with the resources available, the inside retained exposed pipes and cables to save costs on unnecessary internal cladding, conditions for the soldiers spartan at best.

There was no point investing resources into a fleet that would soon be obsolete.

“Everything is in readiness Lord,” Legate Simketh said behind her after Sevenths confirmation, humans slow as always.

His back straightened further as if he were trying to look her in the eye, but the deference on the hard lined face remained, like all the Legions senior officers he had been appointed on merit, something inconceivable under the old Over-King and Feudal nobility - a tactic that ensured the officer class was utterly loyal to the Shadow Lords - they owed their careers and recognition of their abilities to them.

“The Legions stand ready to make the sacrifices necessary to proceed along the Glorious Path,”
 
Once Teta was theirs they would have a workforce in the millions and access to higher quality shipyards and manufacturing facilities with which to plan the next leap ahead in Purgatio Astra.

“Begin Hyperspace insertion” Ninth ordered at last, the crew across the fleet did not hear the orders of the Shadow Lords, they felt it in their minds as an Ice Monolith of Will that demanded they comply.

And so they did.  turning the spread of densely packed stars into a blinding white tunnel.

<<<<>>>>

Ar’On’Dir

From the rush of activity to a dearth of motion, the suddenness of the change was jarring.

But it offered Aron with an unrepeatable opportunity.

The Legion was almost entirely gone, half a cohort remained on the entire planet - most of those injured in previous engagements, and hunkered around old Vox transmitters listening to the infrequent idle chatter of the Legion.

Aron used the Song to cloak himself best he could, flitting between them as the incessant grind of the ore haulers continued - the mine still mean to operate as usual, but the sense of expectation in the air was diminishing all productivity.

Curving round the small gathering of Legionnaires she snuck once more into the Comms Array, the usual caretakers on the roof of the block building tweaking the transmitters to get a clear signal as possible this deep in the core to satiate their own curiosity.

Aron swallowed hard as he entered the comms room, they had already aligned the dishes almost perfectly for the destination of his message- coreward to Coruscant.

He flickederd on the speaker, awareness expanded to sense anyone coming, poised to pull thrift thoughts with the Force if they did.

“Come on….” the static built louder and louder as his palms sweated more and more

“......eacon 334…Jedi Emergency Beacon 334…Jedi…”

Yes that was it!

“Coruscant, this is Ar’On’Dir please contact Master Tnbu or Soryu, repeat Coruscant, this is Ar’On’Dir please contact Master Tnbu or Soryu.” So far he had only spoken to Tnbu, the Sullustan always seemed scant on detail when they spoke, he hoped Soryu had arrived by now.

“Knight ‘Dir this is Knight Cvaley Orish, both Masters are unavailable What is your message,”

“This is urgent, the Shadow Lords have mustered their Legions the fleets been deployed for an invasion…I’ve overheard the word ‘Teta’...” he said quickly

There was no response for tense moments.

“How long ago?” Aron nearly swooned with relief his message had gotten through

“Three days I’m sorry I couldn’t contact sooner,”

“Please confirm the Legions are, to the best of your knowledge enroute to Teta,” 

“Confirmed,” Aron replied

In the silent screen lit Jedi Intelligence Command room Master Tnbu stood behind the loyal Orish, another who had taken the Oath of Vigilance against the Aetherians following Ord Mirit.

“Tell him to send any further information immediately, and that the rescue party will be diverted to Empress Teta System to engage the Shadow Lords directly,” the Sullustans high voice at odds with the low exploitation of the desperate lost Mak’Tor knight.

Orish relayed the information and quickly cut the link, leaving Aron relieved and anxious.

“Shall I summon our Sworn Brethren Master?” Orish asked.

Tnbu nodded and Orish instantly moved to send the signal.

“I will return in an hour, I have another message to send…” Tnbu said already halfway out the room his body quivering with dread at what he would now do.

A slip of paper gripped in his hands with what to anyone else was a meaningless jumble was in fact a Cipher in old Sullustese of a Holo-comm channel to Pybus.

A planet far from Courscant or Teta, a planet Taboo to the Hutts, and the source of the strongest force he could raise against the Aetherians quickly.

The Home of the Flesh Crafters. Reviled yet revered Hutt outcasts who bred and cybernetically mutilated vast armies of Klatooinians to protect the Throne world of the gangster race, whose one outpost beyond the Bootana Hutta had been destroyed in mysterious circumstances by beings in ‘Light Eating Armour’. 

His credentials unquestioned in the early morning light of temple he stood before the blank holo and heard the slippery wet Huttese of the creature at the other end.

[Speak]

“Teta, Empress Teta system.  Bring all the Ciy’Keueketka you can muster,”

Tnbu’s soul was sold to the hissing laughter of the Hutts.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on February 26, 2022, 10:35:30 PM
And so we see the parallels between a daughter and her father compared to a (former) adherent and quasi-deity: both have discovered feet of clay at the altar of their fealty, betrayed not only by the sins of said father/deity but also their own loyalties towards them.

Of course, nothing is ever so simple as just that--after all, there are many other facets that even those found wanting possess--but the unfortunate results are nevertheless PAINFULLY the same.  The question then becomes: can there be reconciliation?  Or tolerance?  Perhaps not even that; perhaps there are too many sins between betrayal and forgiveness...

Worse still: Ari (and Mili) have finally realized just how deep a bond that their shared love is for one another.  Unfortunately, it now seems that even as Ari speeds towards Aethas, Mili, and home, Mili will already have left, hurrying to pre-emptively stop the Trinity from their misguided "attrition" for the alleged "blasphemy" of the Arts exhibition...all against a backdrop of galactic domination and wholesale genocide.

Ironically, precisely what Mili was hoping to avert.  Of course, the Remnant's goals are literally a part of them, their mandate of Purgatio Astra a genetic imperative that they absolutely will and must enact.  Now the question becomes: will Mili be able to something to change her Force Vision?  Perhaps the Ailron Six will recognize the kinship of contemporary Aethans (not to mention actually knowing a few of the living ones) and realize that the Remnant's prerogatives are from a Dead Technocracy, their own reinforced tribalism more in line with Mili than the Shadow Lords.  Regardless, I doubt very much that the Prakith Empire will be deterred by even Mili's power (and provenance, goddess or no).

And much like the adage: "For ever result you expect, there will be at least one that you do not."  Well, throw the Flesh Crafters into the mix, and an already volatile situation will well and truly spark a Conflagration  :)

Meta-note: Another phenomenal poster, LSG!

...I'm going to have to borrow your's (and FT's) talents for upcoming works  ;D


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Karmack on March 02, 2022, 07:39:36 PM
I have to admit, I have effectively lost track of this.   I will re-read before long.  :-)   Life has been to hard recently.

That being said: I love the poster!   

And the Wookie.  :-)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 03, 2022, 11:05:24 PM
Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 1
(https://i.ibb.co/6Bdcrn4/Rota-Conflagration.png)
Tnbu

Rank upon rank of Ciy’Keuteka - ‘Pure Warriors’, the Unblemished guardians of the Huttese Throne worlds, the unbreachable Bootana Hutta - surrounded the diminutive Sullsutan Jedi master as he walked slowly from his Triangular Jedi Star fighter onto the Hutt Destroyers deck toward the waiting hover sled upon which a grossly obese Hutt reclined.

Try as he might to look straight ahead, Tnbu couldn’t help but glance at the Ketka.

They were abnormally tall and obscenely muscular clad in amour less worn than riveted to their raw flesh long since healed over. Where Klatooinian ended and cyborg began was so impossible as to be a moot distinction for creatures bred solely to be transformed thus under the Flesh Crafters vile fat hands.

The light brown skin that showed was unhealthily pallid compared to what the desert native species should be, simple huttese letters and numbers were branded on their forehead as the only unique thing about each one.

They combined both quality and quantity - each was 2.2 meters tall and broad as High Sentinel Yshrrk, malignant looking weapons on their back and hips. 

In place of Eyes and ears was a rounded sensory band of black that blinked with red lights every few seconds, a slight static haze about them indicated inbuilt personal shields.

He ought not be surprised, every Hutt Kadjic paid a tithe to the Flesh Crafters for the protection of the Throne worlds - by his conservative estimates, it amounted to hundreds of trillions of credits each standard cycle.

But he would not be intimidated by the ranks of hundreds about him, stopping before the Hutt at a yellow line drawn on the durasteel floor.

Tnbu offered a curt nod of greeting and respect.

The Hutt’s skin was more green than brown, and disgustingly moist with a wet sheen of slime all over, two other slaves -humanoid and lacking any heads but small rounded processing units attached at the neck, massaged some form of gross oil into the Hutts skin incessantly.

<As promised….> it gurgled in a jarring high pitch contrasting with its size.

“How many?” Tnbu said with all the arrogance a Jedi could regaining himself against the attempt to intimidate him.

The Hutt smiled best it could as the sheer amount of fat on its face made any expression near impossible.

<Huntodon> it replied

Tnbu’s glassy black eyes widened, the translation of the huttese number - Ten Thousand.  Ten Thousand of among the deadliest slave soldiers in the galaxy.

He had not expected so many, so easily...if this was what they could spare on a punitive expedition...well - Jedi intelligence estimates of a Cyborg army of 5 million was likely woefully underestimated.

Yet…against Aetherians, he would’ve preferred a hundred thousand more.

“That will be sufficient - for now,” Tnbu said the Hutts emotion sparking with spite at the ingratitude, but Tnbu knew better than to ever show respect or deference to a Hutt - it was too much like weakness.

“I have fifteen knights who will need lodging across your fleet, our Battle-meld will strengthen your hand,” Tnbu continued

A third creature Tnbu had barely seen, at first mistaken for a Twi’lek until he saw the four enormous Lekku on its oversized head placed its face beside the Hutt who whispered something in rumbling tones

<So be it…Major Domo will lead you to quarters…> The hutt gestured to the ‘four’Lek’ creation of the Flesh Crafter.

<And Jedi…> the Hutt leaned forward causing the oil that coated its body to drip onto the floor, the near headless slaves applying more to comepnsate.

<...If this is a fool's errand, you and your Knights return to Pybus with me.>

The Hutt very obviously stroked one stubby hand along its mutilated slave offering a glimpse at what the flesh crafters did to those that anatognized them.

Tnbu kept his will strong, reciting the last lines of the Oath of Vigilance over and over in his head.
I affirm that the Aetharians represent an existential threat to the Jedi Order and the Republic.
Oaths to said Jedi Order and Republic may need to be set aside in order to save them both


It gave him strength to deal with this monster and risk his…everything.
“So be it Flesh Crafter,”
<<<<>>>>

Sofa
The enforced break while travelling the kaleidoscope tunnel of Deep Core Hyperspace seemed to have calmed Milaea down.

It was a forgettable maiden voyage for the vast Hecate

Twice the size of the other Destroyers it felt cavernous and empty even in the bridge, where for the sake of a sense of homeliness they made their temporary abode with a few rugs and pillows.

One day it would be bustling with People, but that was many years and a lot of babies off.
 
Milaea stared into the whorl of black at the end of the twisting hyper tunnel, occasionally sipping warmed gormin milk.

“Whose worse?” Sofa asked to break the silence

“Who,” Milaea said with a half laugh she didn't feel
“The Extolled on Aethas, the Extolled with the others, the People, or these Shadow Giants…”

That brought a genuine smile from Milaea. 

“Huh...I’d say whichever one is the bigger problem...but they’re all on par,”

Sofa could feel the impending dread that surrounded them - a feeling she had last felt before Ord Mirit, the growing waves of a storm approaching.

“I’m more worried for Ari…” Milaea said after a brief pause
“I haven’t heard anything from her in so long...and when she left…”

Sofa knew the feeling, spinning her wedding ring with her thumb she could barely feel Valens on the other end, and the lack of communication was unnerving. 

She was confident if anything truly bad happened she would feel it through their linked rings, but what smaller bad things might be happening was what worried her. 

Sofa looked to relieve some of Mili’s worry rather than focus on her own.

“You really care for Ari don’t you…” Sofa paused even as Milaea’s mouth moved for the inevitable caveat
“...and not just as a friend,”

“I...yes but...we argued…”

Sofa scooted over to her, both sat on the floor of the empty bridge, its clean blue greys and adornment making it look like a Chiss mortuary, they clung to the island of the gormin fur rug.

“One argument is nothing, I argue with Valens all the time, it doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,”

“But Ari and I we’re not...I don’t even know if she would want to…”

It was almost funny seeing a woman Sofa had seen turn Jedi to statues and buildings to dust trembling over something as comparatively trivial as worrying whether a girl ‘liked’ liked her.

“Mili its been obvious to everyone but the two of you for a long time you are both aching for each other,” she wrapped her arm around the younger woman who leaned her hair almost as red flushed as her face would have been were that physiologically possibly for Aethans. 

“But the things I said, not supporting her, arguing, and the fact she went there at all still makes me angry…” she looked up to Sofa figuratively and now physically.

“How do you do it, Valens must drive you mad with the things he does,”

Sofa shrugged  “Well he makes up for it in other ways…”

Milaea seemed unimpressed by the innuendo in her voice.

“There are two sides to Valens...the shy but dedicated husband who brings me Blossom wine, Hapan confectionery and furry ewok toys...and then there is the Warchief, the Slayer of Masters, God-Killer.
They co-exist, two sides of the coin.  Ari is the same - think of how much she’s lost, her biological parents when she was a toddler, culture, home, then her Uncle on Yavin...now Anson threatens her adoptive parents...she’s switched from the smart, thoughtful, compassionate young woman to the protective, ferocious, daughter, just like Valens will switch from the doting husband to merciless murderer...”

Sofa brushed back her long dark hair that contrasted so much with her alabaster skin as if to emphasize the dichotomy within them all - Milaea’s own stomping toward Teta a sign of her own ‘protective’ side. 

“I should have thought of it that way…” Milaea conceded, she thought of her biological father Jarys, the gentleness he could show contrasted with near feral violence. 

“It’s an Aethan trait…you learn to live with it” Sofa smiled

“The price Galtea will...Goddess by now probably has paid never mattered…I should have gone…” Milaea went on regarding her other regret

Thought trails of what she should’ve have done always ended poorly for Milaea, her Grandmothers stern warning against such a forceful whisper in the back of her mind for the rarity with which Kassyndra ever spoke harshly.

“But what’s done is done...perhaps I was meant to be here to sense whatever...this is that’s coming…”
“Any more clarity on that,” Sofa asked.

“Yes and no…The vision is clearer each time I try and use the Seior, but there are more pieces to see and I can’t work out how they fit together…,” Milaea shook her head

“Always in motion is Present too it seems, I know its very close and everything is coming together, but not what order or where, and I think the sequence matters a lot,”

<<<<>>>

Trinity
Expansive curved frosted glass filtered sunlight through the vast airy exhibition hall as academics pondered, artists contemplated and simple gawkers stared at the double life sized statues that had caused such scandal across so many systems.

Some felt the unclothed poses of the eponymous ‘Aephrodaea’ practising her ‘Arts’ with her companions were the height of immoral vulgarity, many worlds had seen protests to have the exhibition shut down or not tour at all.

Academics decried attempts at censorship, the importance of free artistic expression and acceptance of all cultures arts paramount, in most systems this won the day, in others unsubtle bribery ensured it was not only put on display but viciously advertised as if the owners of the exhibit desired nothing more than spreading the word of the exhibition as far as possible.

Others considered it a bold, unflinching display of humanoid intimate behaviour.  Still more simply found it stimulating to stare at under the cover of ‘art’.

In the Empress Teta system the sleepy Tetan Imperial Censorship Board had rolled into a lazy compromise of putting an age limit on attendance, the Imperial Tourism Authority desiring the extra traffic from nearby systems to visit the exhibition, other locations it had toured all had a pick up of foot traffic and near sector visits, sometimes up to 3 per cent!

For the Trinity of Aethan men striding through the galleries of the Exhibition Compound all such minutiae held no meaning.

The Outsiders were appropriating their culture, had doubtless tormented Aethan women to extract the secret arts from them and now sold tickets like an Outer Rim freak show.

They strode ahead pushing aside the concierges who demanded their tickets - a brief fit of bureaucratic rage calling security was turned to troubled panic as Lysan simply ripped the bar off the Turnstile.

They ignored the shouts from the flabby security, the stern triumphant face of ancient oil painting of Empress Teta herself above them -  ten times more intimidating, and likely far more efficacious in keeping out trouble.

Sweeping his long synth-leather trench coat back the guards jumped to the ground as they saw the array of weapons he was concealing.

Pulling his Disrutpor rifle he began the shooting as soon as they entered the exhibition proper.

Coryn slipping off to find the most potent place to plant the bomb, Lysan and Arryn clinically strode through blasting every being they saw leaving steaming holes of charred flesh where heads and torso’s used to be.

They expected Police or military forces to arrive any minute, Arryn guiding Vulture-Mines to the entrances.

Already in the plant level and underwork of the Exhibition halls Coryn’s head snapped up as he felt a threat coming from above. 

Not the local force...something far...far more deadly.

And excitingly familiar.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 03, 2022, 11:06:04 PM
Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 2
Invasion
Years of peace, neglect, and reliance on the Mining guild had left Empress Teta with a paltry navy - glorified traffic controllers.

The core of the planet's defences were the Mining Guild Droid fleet - second hand from the Trade Federation, a Command Vessel and half a dozen frigates with the old Trade Federation symbols barely painted over with Mining Guild insignia.

Empress Teta had been a credit-bantha for three hundred years sucking out carbonite and small quantities of rare deep core minerals at minimal cost.

Fat and slovenly it now paid the price against an energised zealous force of Prakithians.

The Grand Fleet burst out of hyperspace at entry points away from the common traffic lanes close to the planet.

While the Grand Fleet was, even accounting for the Shadow Lords efforts, technologically inferior, the one edge they did have was their vessels were built hardy to survive the extremes of the deeper core, and could perform otherwise bone liquefing drops into gravity wells.

The Legion already had spies in the system, they knew where all the Guild vessels were.

Sixth moved to attack with the bulk of the Fleet lead by Glory of Prakith

Bolted to the underside of the command vessel were launchers to fire suppression Orbs, half a meter in diameter blackstone orbs infused with the aether energy of thousands of helots to power Suppression Curses. 

Lobbed at the Mining guild vessels they didn’t need to impact to have the desired effect of stripping the thoughts and consciousness from the skeleton crews of humanoids - cost reduction measures paying dividends for the Remnant - before their old battle droids could power up.

In little more than three minutes the majority of sentients on the Guild vessels were unconscious or hallucinating with urgent desires to down shields.

Green turbo laser fire from cannons manned by Droids became sporadic as the Droid Tacticians began to compute the humanoids were [intellectually compromised] and fought to assume control.

It gave Sixth time to draw his vessels up to board the Droid Command carrier, an ugly half circle about a central sphere of metal.

The Prakith Vessels still took many hits, their bulky Deep core capable plating absorbed some, but the more ‘modern’ if still out of date compared to most Republic vessels, weapons of the Guild ships downed nearly a dozen of the Prakith vessels before the first boarding Frigate half crashed into the Command carrier and disgorged its Legionnaires.

Spinning on his heel out of the unadorned raw steel walls and seats of the bridge lit only by dim green of the consoles Sixth made his way to his own shuttle, four struggling Prakith officers racing after his huge legs quick strides, each carrying antenna last blocky devices that serving to relay comms from the four frequencies used, such were the limitations of their technology.

Across the comms he heard the Ailon had been engaged.  Nearly a Thousand Ailon Nova Guard on Three Corvettes were targeted by the Tribals.

A full two dozen ships were sent against them, Kisaea knowing the Ailon would try to board - Six Aethans who knew exactly how to fight Ailon awaited them.

Needle like Felucca ships bored into the clunky Prakith vessels blasting dozens of Legionnaires into space before the sleek Ailon in Chitin like armour leapt out with their precise Korpesh rifles cutting through Prakith Dura-Iron armour.

The beams stopped dead hissing against the Oblivion armour of Daryn and Davys - the Aethan twins surged forward with Oblivion swords that sung gleefully to be wielded by their Master race. 

With bone shattering force they fell on the Ailon, taking vengeance for years of enslavement with bloody dismemberment.

As quick as the Ailon were to adapt, the People struck with their Aether Powers finally set free - Taraea and Lynaea unleashed horrific hallucinations across the Ailon vessels, Varan blasted lighting from his fingers into Ailon chests causing multiple organ failure and rib crushing muscle seizures.

Kisaea guided the whole group supported by Seventh as they tore into the Felucca’s to back them back out and counter charge the Ailon ships, waves of Malacia curses preceding them along with suppression Orbs that set the weaker minded of the Ailon into frenzied states tearing at their faces or shooting phantom enemies.

The ground invasion was over before it had begun.

A week in advance of their Legions, the Fourth and Fifth were in the system.

For beings 3 meters tall and averaging 470 kilograms before their ultradense armour, they were potent infiltrators.

Making planet fall on a rebadged trading vessel hijacked from the Byss run, they had scouted planetary orbital defences, past listless peace softened guards they planted ion charges sufficient to bring the weapons that covered the Iron Citadel offline for an hour.

Other spies set off EMPs to scramble traffic control at Cinnagar Galactic Space Port where Legate Semketh was first on the ground as dozens of bulky landers crammed with 50 Legionnaires each smacked down on the ferrocrete.

In heavy Dura-Iron emblazoned with the Red Gargoyle of Prakith - symbol of the predominantly Volcanic planets ancient past when such creatures actually existed, long since hunted to extinction, though rumours persisted some survived deep in coole tunnels beneath forgotten mines.

The stone like skin of the Gargoyle represented to Semketh the true strength of the Legions - not Dura-Iron armour, but unyielding discipline and unflinching obedience to the Shadow Lords who had raised Prakith from a dying feudal still-born state to a burgeoning military power.

“Maniple Forward!” he ordered gazing over the glass and concrete towers of Cinnagar, modern structures interspersed among more ancient stone giants built when the system as still a true Empire. The Glorious Path, he realised, was not just for Prakith, but a path to renewal for Teta as well - The Legion was not invading but liberating them from stagnation!

A combination of mind suppression, illusion and buried presence techniques took Ninth and Fifth deep into the Iron Citadel. Like so much of the systems of the deep core, it was a sad, aged shadow of its former glory. 

The seven storey high statues of the eponymous Empress Teta that flanked the bridge across the vast moat that separated the Citadel from the near planet wide city scape seemed to weep verdigris tears for the fallen state of her once glorious Empire.

The Royal Guard were the only semi professional, or at least alert, force on the planet apart from the Ailon.  Clad in baroque anachronistic armour they walked the vast empty halls of the Citadel as the Keto Imperial family idled their time with feast, booze and gossip.
 
The Remnant had learned from Byss that cutting off the head was all that was required, ever dedicated to efficiency in their operations they intended nothing more. 

From Prakith they had learned the bulk of the population did not care who their rulers were so long as their quality of life, if not improved, was at least not diminished. 

They could not have launched a full scale occupation of a planet of 2 billion citizens - they did not need to.

The shrill of laughter and the swish of whispers in the galleries decorated with tarnished gold given over to table gambling games was broken by the entry of the Shadow Lords of Prakith.

Stunned nobles looked up in horror as the Royal Guard activated their Tremor-halberds only to be hurled by invisible hands into the wall unconscious.

“Emperor Setas VII,” Ninth said her voice filtered to a genderless empty tone by he now fully repaiared Aegis helm.

A sweating middle aged man stood warily from the table, attempting to look nonplussed and dignified even as she felt his sweat terror in the aether.

“You know who we are,”

He nodded

“We’ve...we’ve heard...the Shadow Lords of Prakith...your attendance here was not...was not announced,”

“Your handful of spies decorate the Dagger Throne,” Ninth explained the fate of the Tetan’s half hearted effort to peer into the political changes in the deeper core they had neglected for decades.

“What do you want,”

So there was a hint of spine there after all

There was no emotion on her face as she replied, only the clear objective of Purgatio Astra in her mind.

“Everything,”

<<<<>>>>

“Still no response,” the Velite Radio officer reported from the Iron Citadel.

Third stood at the window of a quickly occupied building watching the Mining guild Headquarters across a long avenue that featured at its center a monument indicating where the old Hyperspace Navigators Guildhouse had once stood - the ancient structure, a treasure of galactic history had been removed piece by piece to make way for the cities growth in bette times.

They had the Emperor ‘invite’ the Mining Guild Regional Elder to attend the Iron Citadel to discuss ‘changes to the governance of the system’. 

The Elder was a more canny operator, well aware of the fact his Droid Command Carrier was now occupied by 500 Legionnaires, and the Ailon Corevettes were fighting off a counter boarding action.

Prakith Vessels prevented any ships from leaving, and they now had control of the orbital defences in largely bloodless coup of Defence force command. 

So far the populace was blithely unaware of anything but additional traffic around the Iron Citadel and staring at the sky wondering what the odd explosions were.

“Proceed” Third ordered.  This was the Elders third refusal in as many hours, a fourth offer would not be made.

Five hundred Battle droids stood before them, and within the Mining Guild HQ at least 100 Ailon.

Legion Engineers deployed mobile cover positions, blocking traffic and slowly moving forward.

Mindlessly the Droids marched forward with a steady stream blaster fire that ate into the Dura-Iron of the Prakith Legions too quickly - upgrading their armour would be the first thing they did with the Tetans wealth of carbonite.

Las Carbines were fired in return, the slow firing balls of energy hitting hard on the skeletal dorids knocking them down by the dozen. 

Third strode in the midst of Legion unworried by the droid's fire that he effortlessly bounced off his Oblivion blade, then raising it on high called down Aether lighting upon the machines.

Blue energy coursed through their centre causing the near ones to explode, the outer ones to seize, and emboldening the Legionnaires to charge forward faster, the rousing shout of ‘Prakith!’ on their lips.

Ailon snipers in the HQ rained shots on them from above taking a vicious toll before shields could be brought up.  More Nova guard heavies opened up their advanced weapons from the roof and windows cutting through the Chort decimated in minutes.

“FORWARD!” Third demanded reaching out with the Aether to rip an Ailon Heavy weapons team from a window telekinetically, the insect like armour cracking as it hit the plaza.

The scenario was repeated high above them, the Legion bleeding rapidly and solidifying only around their Shadow Lords whose malefic powers gave them hope they could win against the far superior Ailon.

On the Ailons own corvettes the Legionnaires died by the dozen, cannon fodder to allow the Aethans under Seventh and Kisaea the freedom to use their super human strength and speed to eliminate the Ailon warriors without being overwhelmed.

The decks of the Corvettes were soaked in Legion blood, dura-iron scented the air as Kisaea bashed another Ailon commander into the ground, a regular thrust a Scimitar at her, she caught it under her arm feeling the vibro weapon cut in under sher shoulder, Daryn quickly intervening to ram his broken sword through the Ailon gut.

Seventh came behind them, his sheer bulk barely fitting in the corridors designed for lithe Ailon. His Aegis armour sported a cut from every Ailon he had killed.  And he had killed dozens.

“Droid Command Ship is captured,” Sixth confirmed as he stomped another head in on the bridge, the floor cluttered with dead droids and Legionnaires.  He gazed across the orbital battle, the Prakith ships in the first wave had taken a beating due to their inferior shields and armour, a disadvantage superior Aethan tactics could not fully compensate for.

“The citadel is ours,” Ninth confirmed, “Support moving to the Guild HQ,”

“Copy,” Third responded as the slow grind toward the building built momentum, his own Velites managing to snipe a few of the Ailon as the next cohort clambered over their fellow dead, pushing past the Mining Guild Logo in the plaza strewn with bodies.

Sheer volume of las-Carbine and portable Plasma Culverins was taking the facade of the building apart, forcing the Ailon to retreat back inside.  Finally reaching the door Third kicked the durasteel open, a wave of fire from battle droids inside stopped dead in the air and hurled back into the machines by her Aether powers as Legionnaires flooded in behind her.

On the Ailon Command Ship Varan and Taraea shifted quickly around the Sekhmet’s - Elite Melee guards of the Imyr who lead the Ailon Force and sat unmoved on his command throne.

The Sekmet’s Vibro-scimitars worked fast and fluid against the Aethans Blackstone blades - but Varan and Taraea knew the forms they used, they had been forced to learn them and practice them over and over and over - they used this knowledge now to sweep low and under the weapons, driving their genehanced fists and elbows into the Ailon to stagger them, then blast their torso’s into molten messes of armour and flesh with Aether lighting that crackled from their fingers.

The Sekmet collapsed in heaps as Legionnaires followed the couple in as the Imyr rose brandishing his spear like Djdam Tremor weapon.

Kuffuk, KREE!” He shouted at them, Kuffuk a curse and insult added to the challenge.

The Aethan couple sheathed their blades on their back and lifted their hands, Taraea gripping the Ailons limbs, Varan drawing energy for a burst of righteous flame.

The Imyr fought a losing battle against their powers, trying to trudge forward - his Will was strong, their hate for outsiders stronger. Aether flame smacked him in the chest, melting his chitin like red armour into his flesh slowly and painfully.

He writhed, gasped, but never screamed or begged for mercy denying the Aethans that modicum of satisfaction before the utter incineration of his organs caused his body to fail, the Legionnaires behind the Aethans bellowing “SHADOW, SHADOW, SHADOW!” in zealous praise of their supernatural masters.

<Corvettes secured,> Varan announced.

Floor by floor Third, now joined by Fifth worked their way to the Executive offices of the Mining Guild, gaudy yet aged furnishing blasted apart in the cross fire as Ailon hunkered behind filing cabinets in shoot out with Legionnaires, entire floors blasted apart by Incineration grenades.

Shouldering the sealed door to the Elders office open Fifth took the Ailon shots on his pauldron before snapping up the professional soldiers ankles with his mind lifting them upside down for Third to decapitate with smooth swings of his sword.

The COO and elder were cowering beneath the desk frantically hitting buzzers on comm seeking a signal.

Dragging them out by the hair Third wasted no time pressing into their warbling weak minds.

Shut down your droids, contact the Ailon stating you no longer require their services and will compensate them  for all losses

The Ailon were too much of a threat to remain, fortunately they followed credits as much as war, without the Guild finance they would happily abandon this backwater world for greater conflicts.

The fat face COO eyes rolled back in her plump head, Third barely able to control his desire to throw the disgusting overweight perversion of flesh out the window - he might later.

Dropping it to the floor it complied muttering into the comm as soon as Fifth signalled for the jamming to be lifted.

<Guild HQ Secure,> Third finally confirmed.

Ninth standing before the trembling, and self solid Emperor of Prakith felt as close to satisfaction as possible.  However this was only the beginning. 

Chancellor Teshk of Prakith was beside her reading in his aged droning voice the new Constitution of the Empress Teta System before the Emperor approved it with his Seal.

The Remnant had no desire to destroy the Keto Dynasty, nor the Mining guild, they would, like Prakith, become two tools in building their capacity, Teta would supply physical labour to build and man warships, and soul energy to power the Obelisk array, the Mining Guild would operate under their control, shipping out excess carbonite in exchange for credits and other minerals not easily accessible in the core.

Just as her instinct driven mind was confirming the completion of the current objective the Aether spiked with uncertainty, a red crack almost visible to all of them, emanating from a point some thirty two kilometers away in the ‘Entertainment District’.

<We will re-route immediately,> Fourth signalled from the Palace Bunkers sensing it too.

<No, I will deal with this myself,> Ninth ordered.
<Solidify our gains,>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 03, 2022, 11:06:45 PM
Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 3
Milaea

“Are we too late?” Sofa asked uncertain as the Hecate, Stygium Stealth Drives active the 650 meter vessel slipped unnoticed past the outer picket ships of the Grand Fleet of Prakith whose insignia Milaea had to consult the database Valens had ‘appropriated’ from the Jedi years before to recognise.

In Orbit the only military vessels were a Trade Federation Command Carrier - with Mining Guild Symbols painted on - listlessly swaying amidst damaged Frigates, and three Ailon Nova Guard Corvettes surrounded by the bulky outdated looking Prakthian ships. 

Somehow the otherwise awkward deep core vessels had managed to extend boarding tubes to each of the Ailon ships, deaths dribbled out in the Aether as the fighting aboard intensified.

“Can’t tell...it's strange…” Milaea replied

There were deaths on the planet itself, but they were few and concentrated to two locations -

A carefully planned invasion by the Prakthians, guided by someone - or something - with exceptional strategic skills and tactical nous given the Prakith ships looked - despite having a new sheen to the hull - 500 years out of date in terms of construction, the Chiss scanning systems of the Hecate confirming it with the readouts on radiation and energy profiles that matched vessels not seen in generations.

“They want the ships intact…” Sofa said taking a closer look at the damage profile on the Mining Guild Vessels

“Especially the Ailon ones, they lost a few ships trying to board when they clearly had the skills to blast them…”

“They’re upgrading…” Milaea realised as she began to feel more and more precisely the currents of the Aether on the planet

“Enhancing…Perfecting...The Prakithians are just a stepping stone, they want the Guild and Ailon Technology - The Prakthians are the cannon fodder…”

“Wait who is using them as cannon fodder?” Sofa asked, Milaea slipping into the habit of forgetting even fellow Aethans couldn’t see as deeply as she could,

Milaea’s eyes narrowed slightly seeking out across the crevice lines in the aether the next point of crisis and critical decisions.

There were two Shatterpoints on the surface, the fight in orbit was all but over.  It was too dangerous for her and Sofa to split up, she had to choose one of the tipping points to intervene on.

Dipping tentatively into the future streams of the Aether she looked to which one could blend the most threads in her favour.

“I know where we need to go,”

<<<<>>>>

Trinity

Coryn stared to the sky through the Exhibitions frosted glass as Lysan stomped the last suffering outsiders to death, Arryn arming the Naqxium bomb that would not only deflagrate the blaspehmous statues, but turn the larger part of Cinnagar to a glass filled crater.

“Someone is coming,” the youngest of the Trinity said, cradling his Crossbow at the ready.

Lysan growled as he kicked the blood and bone from his boots.

They had all sensed the fighting elsewhere on the planet, but given they intended to turn it to ash it hardly mattered what outsiders were fighting among themselves.

The Exhibition hall ceiling began to vibrate, the Trinity dove for cover ready to engage whatever came through.

Moments later a rippling in the air resolved into an Oblivion Black dagger shaped ship.

Leaping out of the Transport Sofa’s blade hissed on cutting a hole in the roof before leaping down the four storeys to the ground amidst the recently dead that lay in between the explicit statues she had helped pose for years before.

Milaea drifted down more elegantly with red glowing Aether Flight.

“Shavit…” Sofa sighed as she surveyed the massacre - she could pick just over three hundred boided throughout the exhibition hall, probably a few more hidden beneath the others, the majority had blaster wounds, a few more grisly decapitations or telekinetically inflicted neck crushing.

Coryn snapped out first, Crossbow tense and ready to fire its vicious Projectile, Sofa’s guard snapped up, Lysan curled out from behind a statue pillar rifle at the ready, Arryn peaking out with his bespoke hand rifles.

Sofa quickly snapped her saber off, the women raising their hands fingers spread to show they were not a threat in a Jedi motion they had down by rote.

“No need to shoot, we’re not here to hurt anyone,” Sofa insisted exuding a sense of calm and safety best she could to the blood covered murderers.

“We just want to talk…” Gently she unclasped her helmet, the metal scent of blood hitting her olfactory senses hard, but mingled just within notice were more familiar smells unique to People.

Expressing a small stream of low intensity pheromones Sofa continued
“You’re People, We’re People…these statues…this exhibition was meant to be a signal, bring everyone who was lost back together…”

the presence of the dead once more bit into her consciousness

“You might have misunderstood what was going on here,” the former Jedi used all the tolerance Soryu had instilled in her to keep an even non judgemental voice.

The three men shared odd looks, they could smell she was a female of the People - but not one they recognised the heritage of.

Lysan tightened his aim at Sofa’s head.

“Outsider lies! You have no link to the Tribe!”

<Damn it…> He was right, Sofa was not born Aethan, her scents weren’t connected to any family lines they might recognise.

<...let me try,> Milaea intervened, unclasping her own helmet, her lustrous golden red hair shuffling free.

“I am Milaea, daughter of Cilina”, her voice firm and resolute

“Granddaughter of Kassyndra, Lyssia, Amrys and Old Andis the Guardian, trained Guardian myself by Jarys and Kiraea, acknowledged by Melron, Karintha, Taran and Valens,”

She made sure to only use the names of those other survivors would know from before the Devastation even as she projected her aura outward so they could smell and sense her place in the People was genuine.

Coryn was inclined to believe her, the names Kiraea and Karintha, Yorna’s sister and aunt, gave him hope that Yorna too might be alive – a hope that may well be clouding his judgment, but one he was willing to take.

Arryn knew fewer of the names, it seemed plausible to his logical mind, but no greater likelihood than this being some kind of ruse to lure out People to destroy them completely.

Lysan took Arryn’s concern and turned it to paranoia.

This was simply another Outsider trick, they had taken the sacred names and images of their Goddesses and put them on display for outsiders to gawk at - to spew the names of a few Guardians was trivial in comparison.

<But they look, smells, feels like People?> Coryn countered in the group mind to Lysan’s budding rage fuelled scepticism.

<The Outsiders surely have the ability to devise such a glamour!> Lysan replied swiftly

“We will not be deceived!” He spat back

“If you are who you say then where are these Guardians, why do they allow you to leave without an escort among the Outsiders?”

“The Other Guardians are…engaged in a conflict far from here, but will return soon, unit then you are welcome to come with us and await them on Aethas itself, we have the navigational coordinates, a safe route and ships to traverse through the deep core,”

“So convenient they are absent!” Lysan replied with snide disdain

“I understand your suspicion,” Milaea tried to soothe

“I can see, feel that your journey here has been long, hard and painful, loss upon loss in this strange hostile galaxy…please listen to me.”

“Not before you have heard my words,” a deep vaguely feminine echoed through the hall as pouding steps followed it.

The Trinity snapped round as dozens of Prakith Legionnaires scrambled round them las-carbines charged, at their head a Giant in Oblivion armour of a design Milaea only recognised from her inherited memories of Aethena’s life - Technocracy Aegis Armour.

Ninth gestured for the Legionnaires to remain on guard, she had concealed their presence and her own approach till this last moment, Milaea hid the shock she felt at that.

“What is this!” Lysan barked feeling ever more trapped but flicking signals to Arryn to prep the bomb.

“Your Liberation,” Ninth explained, removing her own helmet revealing an oversized stern face of a woman.

“I am Ninth, Commander of the Aertemisaean Squad of the Glorious Technocracy of Aethas - I know you are Lysan, former slave of the Ailon Nova Guard, your comaptriots led by Kisaea followed me in the invasion of this world after we freed them.”

She paused as the Trinity glanced between Ninth and the equally perplexed Milaea and Sofa.

“Legionnaires leave us, these matters are beyond your comprehension.” Ninth ordered, the Legion obedient to their masters backing out slowly.

<Who the frell is she?> Sofa asked telepathically
<I don’t know, even Aethena never heard of her,> Milaea replied as the last Legionnaire left.

Ninth briefly glanced up to the Karintha Class transport above them

“Your vessel is impressive, it seems some of the Tribals have prospered.” Ninth commented

“We’re rebuilding - gradually,” Milaea said

“Then you will be pleased to hear we have also been building, the conflict around this world has secured us this planet's resources, and now brought us together with two more bands of survivors of the Devastation. A day to be long celebrated,”

Milaea was not so certain.

“What are you doing with these resources,”

“What is natural,” Ninth replied with cold assurance
Purgatio Astra

The Cleansing of the Stars, the Technocracies ultimate solution to the ‘Outsider Question’, they never seriously had the time or resources to attempt it of course - it seems this survivor of that dead society had.

“Someone,” Lysan said through gritted teeth,
“Explain to me what is going on, or I will turn us all to ash!”

Arryn primed the Naqxium bomb a gentle chime on the large device brought all eyes to it.

<Oh Shavit…what is that,> Sofa said knowing the answer

“It’s alright, this is…we just need to go somewhere else and talk this through,” Milaea insisted,
“I have a ship in orbit we can talk there until the others arrive,” she looked pointedly to Lysan
“Once Karintha is here you will know what I’m saying is true,”
She then looked to the Titan of a genehanced woman
“And we can discuss exactly what this all means - but you need to deactivate that bomb before anyone else dies needlessly,”

Anyone Else” Lysan spat back at her as Milaea realised how devastating an error the offhand comment had been.

“No Person has died,” Ninth intercepted even as she stood among dozens of bodies, none of them counted, they were Outsiders.

“And every Outsider death is Necessary” Lysan affirmed his choice made
“A True Guardian would know that, would help us to destroy the degenerates,” 

He turned fully to Ninth

“We have Naquadha-Coaxium bombs, capable of levelling cities…” Lysan explained
“...We ask nothing more than the chance to use them,”

Opportunities to combine the bombs with the Obelisk array flared possibilities across Ninths mind, Purgatio Astra would be accelerated by decades.

“You shall have it and more,” Ninth promised as Milaea’s face fell, images of countless systems rendered lifeless by teleported Naqxium bombs from Obelisk arrays.

“No, I can’t let that happen,” Milaea said firmly as her eyes flashed red, the wave of her incredible energy hitting everyone like a tsunami, Arryn and Coryn both buckling, Lysan nearly toppling over, only Ninth stood unmoved.

“By the Authority of the Three Goddesses in me you will submit to my authority,”

“Tribal superstitions,” Ninth dismissed as the men cowered, Milaea’s Tribal-Divine Domineering power utterly ineffectual against the Technocracy age Aethan.
“And Outsider lies,” Ninth took a single step forward.

“Don’t try it,” Milaea warned the enormous Aethan

“We will not tolerate interference in the pursuit of Purgatio Astra” Ninth said drawing her enormous Shatter-Sword.

<Shaaaaaaavit>
Sofa snapped on her saber again as Ninth exploded forward like a bolt of Black lighting.

Milaea’s kinetic wave intensity could’ve have liquefied doonium, it slid round the Remnant soldier as the Shatter-sword crashed with the force of thousands of kilograms onto Sofa’s blade as Milaea hit from the side.

Crushing grips, blast of eldritch chains, Dathomiri binding circles and Aethan curses were unleashed as a single torrent from Milaea’s depth of Aether power onto the Remnant, the Aegis armour built to resist Sith magicks deflected much, but the Hollowness of the Reactivated giants connection to the aether distorted the rest.

A purple and blue saber cracked hot and white against a Shatter-Sword built in another age to fight Sith warlords whose ancient sabers were far more energy intensive. Arms as large as Milaea’s torso gave Ninth greater strength, neurons twice as myelinated as Sofa’s gave her greater speed.

Barely three seconds and the pair realised the almost inconceivable - they were fighting a being physically superior to them.

Decades of practised Jedi saber forms mixed with more grounded Dathomiri and Aethan techniques gave Sofa and Milaea out’s and a few opportunities against the Aertemisaean that rained an avalanche of blows heavy as the women themselves falling at terminal velocity.

Ninth adapted quickly using her bulk with concentrated blasts of kinetic energy to wear the pair down. Milaea felt the strange not quite living aether presence of Ninth more fully, this was a being that was not quite alive, not fully dead, a powerful but hollow shell that, while it limited Ninths aether abilities to fairly conventional powers of telekinesis, telepathy, lighting and fire, mad her resistant to metaphysical attacks as quite simply, there seemed to be no soul for Milaea or Sofa to aim at.

The Men could barely see what was happening, Oblivion armour and saber brightness was surrounded by Milaea’s red glow as the chosen of the Goddesses relied on Sofa to buy just a few seconds to readjust her aether power to better counter Ninth.

The former Jedi bit back the red haze of warning in her somatosensory cortex that indicated her limbs were already straining against the extreme blows, she needed only seconds, filling her limbs with the Aether Sofa hit back with solid Niman strikes, the flexible form she had learned with Soryu’s grace allowing her to push Ninth back to give Milaea space, and even come under the massive Ninths Shatter blade to strike, however ineffectually, at the massive Aegis Breastplate.

Ninth was playing her own game.  Behind the whorl of blades Fourth, Third and Fifth arrived at a run,telekinetic arms gripping Sofa’s wrist and ankles in an instant.

<Shav Shav Shav!>

A delayed block let Ninth shoulder her, Sofa flew backward as the vast weight of the remnant warrior carried unconscionable momentum into her smaller frame -sending her straight into a kinetic whirlpool that drew her into Fifths massive arms.

Already summoning up a Lightning shield to burst out, the Remnant warrior clamped her in a bear hug and extended a Null field that was replicated by all the Remnant who positioned around Milaea, trapping the powerful young woman in a Null zone, frustrating her Aether attacks in an instant.

Without the Aether Milaea was no stronger than any other woman of the People. She knew the remnant couldn’t sustain such a large Null field for long, but they didn’t need to.  Third and Ninth pounced at her, the red haired Aethan spun between the two vast warriors, her saber using Soryu’s defensive forms drawing the combat out longer than Ninth had anticipated as Sofa struggled against Fifths grip.

<Fourth!> Ninth ordered her into the fight.

Time passed in crucial microsecond as three Remnant fought to physically grind down one demi-god, all the while sustaining a Null field to deny her god-like powers as long as they could.

Milaea inched between the blades, dodging the elbows and knees, feeling out the slowly diminishing radius of the Null field. 

If she could outlast them physically she could suppress them Aetherically. Ninth was well aware of the strategy and the limitations of their fight.

Regardless of their conflict they were all Aethan, fundamental to the Super-Species was the inability to truly harm another - every strike they made was softened as if they were sparring. 

Under Third’s sword Miaea rammed her knee into Fourths side, a slight opening Ninth took, allowing Milaea to strike down hard on her head with the pommel of her saber - it rattled but did little damage to her ultra-calcified skull - in exchange the enormous Technocracy soldier crash tackled Milaea into a pile of dead humans, shattering their already dying bones. 

Her opponent pinned they could narrow the null field as Ninth and Milaea traded close blows.

Coryn couldn’t watch as the Giants crushed down on the young Aethan woman, Arryn too seemed uncomfortable, Lysan somewhat indifferent still convinced they were Outsider tricks.

Her arms pinned by Ninths weight Milaea felt the Null field begin to recede, her powers tingling at the tips of her fingers….

Yet she also sensed a vile oily shadow growing somewhere at the edge of the system.

The girl went limp, Ninth stopped still worried she had harmed the girl.

“I surrender,” Milaea said “We don’t have time to fight among ourselves…we need to leave, now,”

Ninth stood slowly wondering what she was speaking of.

<<<<>>>>

At the edge of the Empress Teta System Space was ripped and twisted ina shimmering wave as Five Hundred bulbous, sleek, off white boosters resolved into real space.

Drawing a breath on the Bridge of the largest of the Vessels Jedi Master Tnbu stood beside the hover sled of the gross oiled Hutt Flesh Crafter.

The Sullustan steeled himself as the sick mutated creatures that served the Hutts began their deployment of their cyborg soldiers, heralding, he hoped, the end of the Aetherians.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 03, 2022, 11:09:55 PM
Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 4
Second Battle of Teta

They were barely on board the Glory of Prakith when the dingy utilitarian metal bridge lit with warning signals and alarms.

“New contact at Z302 Y1148 X 29776,”
“Tracking three..four…no how…”
Systems decades out of date compared to the Ailon tech she was used to showed dozens of blips at the target coordinates, then - overwhelming the sensor's finesse - a single blob.

“An Ailon relief Force?” Seventh asked her.

Kisaea shook her head
“They would come in closer to the planet with interdictors, and not in that number, not for a low value client like the Mining guild.”

“Get me long range visuals, I want to see what these ships…” Sevenths orders were cut off as half the ‘blob’ vanished. 

“Micro jump,” the icy tactician of the Remnant murmured
“All ships Red Alert!”

<<<<>>>>

“You need to evacuate the system,” Milaea insisted on the planet below even as she stood gripped by Third, Sofa held by Fifth beside her.

“And lose all our gains,” Fourth countered
“Better than our lives,” Sofa snapped back

Ninth took in all the information coming to her

<Approximately half the mass of the unknown vessels micro jumped, if they are headed to us we have fifteen minutes before realspace translation,> seventh cooly informed her from the Glory

<We’ve just received a visual of the enemy ships…> he telepathically expressed the image on the grainy pixelated black and white screen from the outdated long range radio-scope the Prakthian fleet had no better alternative to.

<I’ve never seen anything like it,> Kisaea added

Ninth broadened the Mind meld to include the three males.

Lysan instantly felt the presence of Kisaea, Daryn and the others, his choice of Ninth vindicated.

<Kisi!>
<Lys you’re alive how…doesn’t matter thank the Goddesses! But we can talk later, do you know this ship?>

Lysan shared it in turn with Coryn and Arryn.

<It’s a Hutt Vessel, - A Voy’Di’Cee - Chariot of the Pure, the preferred vessels of the wealthiest Hutts, they never leave the Throne Worlds that I am aware of> Arryn had analysed them for the Pykes during his confinement

<Hutts, what business have they here?> Ninth asked

None had any answers, she turned to Milaea and Sofa opening herself to them as well, albeit on a very confined channel, not trusting Milaea’s surrender.

“Do you Know this?” she shared the image across the Aethenaea Cortex.

Sofa zeroed in on a symbol on the hull she had hoped never to see again, three yellow lines that branched and twisted to a bloated sphere with a Huttese ‘Penth’ equivalent letter in the middle.

<That’s the Pohna Kakea - Flesh Crafters,> Sofa explained
<We had a run in about a year back…are they following us?>

<Can’t be us,> Milaea said in reply <We’re not using any of the ships we took to Rorak, if they had a tracer they would’ve gone straight to Aethas long ago>

<Flesh crafters…Ciy’Keueketka> Varan realised
<The Pure Warriors, Cyborgs, mostly Klatoonian, We never saw their ships but we encountered them when the Ailon were hired in the Neimoidian Civil War - the enemy bought 1000 of the ‘Unblemished’ to counter the Ailon, sent them straight into our lines…>
<Yes Ct’chunak Ridge, we barely made it out alive, nearly 3000 Ailon dead against barely 300 Ketka> Taraea affirmed
<They’ll cut the Prakith Legion to shreds.>

<Whatever their reasons for being here we cannot lose the Legion,>  Ninth decided hearing all she needed to.
<Seventh order a full retreat> she turned to the Trinity
<You three do you have your bombs nearby?>
<A short skiff ride,> Lysan answered
<Fifth see they are collected immediately, we leave now,>

Ninth paused before Fifth released his grip on Sofa.
“I trust you won’t interfere with the evacuation,”
“Lady, I want out of here more than you do,” Sofa said.

“Our ship is on the roof, we can get you and the others out of the System on our ship, it's faster and stronger than anything you have,” Milaea offered.

<Do you really want them on the Hecate> Sofa chimed in privately
<No, but from there we can try contact the others easier,>

“We need to ensure the Glory of Prakith makes it out, not only are our People on there but also a full Obelisk Array,” Ninth noted even as they begun to move, Arryn sweeping up the Naqxium bomb.

“You have an Obelisk array…shav…Aethan minds do think alike,” Sofa said with, for once, genuine exasperation.

“How long to make a jump?” Milaea asked as their super human strength and the aether allowed them to leap four storeys up over the dead exhibition hall to the Karintha Class Transport, Fourth assisting Arryn as Third issued orders to the Legion Occupation forces on the ground to hunker down and keep the Tetan Emperor and critical infrastructure under their control.

“Eighteen minutes 32 seconds from calculator,” Ninth replied as she steadied on the Transport taking in the cool blue grey of the Chiss based design, idly noting that this Assault transport was more powerful than a Prakith Destroyer.

“Then there is no time to waste.”

<<<<>>>>

The Legion worked quickly as it could within the choking confines of outdated technology.

The Invasion of Teta was meant to grant them access to better resources and modern technologies, fulfilling the Shadow Lords promise their sacrifice today would give future generations a far better quality of life, no longer living in a feudal scraps sneered at as a back water by the Core systems, but advancing to a semi-modern state.

The Full retreat order lanced that hope painfully, grim loyalty and trust in the Shadow Lords kept them working.  Their masters never promised unmitigated success, were clear losses would be numerous, the Glorious Path was neither smooth nor flat, but beset but jagged traps.

Belief in this Path and the cool headed oversight of Legate Semketh and Admiral Kurzon ensured as smooth a fall back as possible, the Fleet coming about to the Hyperspace exit orientation, captured vessels coming about, rescue crews for their own destroyed ships furiously working in the few minutes they had to secure those most likely to survive.

The Aethans were just as swift, stopping at the Manor the Trinity had depopulated, Sofa felt a wave of revulsion at the corpses still lying there, killed for no other crime than being of no use to the three men.  Her and Milaea’s antipathy only grew as the Remnant using their superior strength even by Aethan standards hauled crate upon crate of Naqxium aboard.

“Is this stuff stable?” Sofa queried as she fit another box in the increasingly cramped hold, noting Fifth was already tinkering with a Hades rifle when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“At current temperatures yes,” Arryn said, allaying none of her concerns.

“Admiral how much longer,” Ninth demanded as the hatch sealed and Milaea pushed the transport at maximum acceleration into the lower atmosphere, leaving the oblivious city behind her, a handful of flashing lights now surrounding the Exhibition hall as confused emergency services found the massacre.

“Another 8 minutes to complete calculations,” he replied from the Glory of Prakith.

The estimate for the Ketka ships that had jumped returning to real space was 5.

“Form a defensive perimeter around the Glory charge all weapons,” Ninth demanded
“Already underway Lord,” the studious Admiral replied.

Ninth stood behind Milaea as the sky gave way to void and the sparkle of distant ships.

“Can your vessel provide covering fire?” the Remnant leader asked

“If we can get to it in time,” she pushed the afterburners as the HUD showed the most direct course back to the Hecate
“But the ship is empty, we’ll have to rely mainly on automated targeting,”

“I think I can assist in that,” Arryn interjected from behind
“My…” he glanced to the mechanical stumps that had been hands
“...I believe I can interface with this technology if it has a universal connection port.”

The tension built as the passed the Glory of Prakith, Hand of Shadow and Honour of Ashken, the three Super Destroyers that formed the core of the fleet which was slowly repositioning.

“Four minutes till they…”

The Ketka Advance Fleet arrived early.

<<<<>>>>

Twenty Four whasoka, Eight pahdipa, three Capa and four Kapa Teesaw cut out of hyperspace cannons firing on predetermined arcs at the Prakith fleet.

“That is not enough ships,” Tnbu complained beside the bloated flesh crafter, the noxious scent of hyper-hormonal perfumes in the air.

Comprising 24 Frigates, eight Corvettes and three heavy and two medium cruisers it was a substantial force, but still dwarfed by the hundreds of Prakith vessels.

The Flesh crafter said nothing but in a single withering blink of its glassy brown eyes indicated the Jedi should leave the strategy to him.

Within seconds Tnbu had to eat his words as the bulbous Hutt ships weapon lanced through a score of the bulky rectangular enemy ships leaving them floating burning wrecks.

The Hutt murmured a laugh.

[These do not seem to be the Shadow Lords who assailed Rorak] The Flesh crafters sick high pitched voice echoed in the wide rounded bridge
[Their tactics are adequate but the technology is woeful…I fear you may have wasted our time and resources Master Jeeeedai]

The last word was less speech than an extended lick around the gaping max by the Hutts meter long tongue, as if salivating at having Jedi to ‘play’ with.

But Tnbu was certain, he could feel even from the edge of the system, the familiar tremors of the Aetherians twisted powers.  No Jedi who had lived through the Night of Madness on Coruscant, the Jungle Slaughter of Myrkr, or the Murders of Ord Mirit could forget.

More of the slow Prakith ships burst apart, their return fire using antiquated Plas-Bombards a tickle on the Ketka ships shields at best, the most advanced in Hutt space few species or factions in the galaxy possessed better technology - certainly none had access to as many resources.

The Pohna Kaeka took a tithe from every single Hutt, from Kadijic Elder to two bit death stick dealer, of 8 per cent every 8 years. 

Reviled and feared in equal measure, the Flesh crafters were ‘outside’ normal Hutt social structures, yet integral because of it - as the only truly neutral party given the faction riven Hutt High Council, they were entrusted with protection of the Bootana Hutta - the Hutts Paradisal Throne worlds inaccessible to outsiders where the richest and oldest Hutts retired, and, if  rumours were true, most Hutts were birthed on their Clans Palace World.

With near limitless credits, access to any resources they requested within Hutt space hundreds of vessels and ten thousand Ketka - a force that could conquer a dozen core worlds - were a trifle to the Flesh crafters.

Even so they were never wasteful, the advance force was there to ‘test the mud’ - as the Hutts adage went - before ‘slopping in’.

Decks were breached, medical bays blow out, bridge turned to molten slag and a full fifth of the Grand Fleet of Prakith was reduced to rubble in mere moments as hundreds of single man boarding torpedoes were launched from the Ketka ships, ramming into the larger Prakith vessels that in vain tired to hurl plasma balls at the rapidly repositioning enemy - the Ketka fleet never static for a moment.

Klatooinian by mass breeding, made Ciy’Keueketka by regiments of hormonal stimulants and cybernetic implants the Ketka in void capable modular armour ripped into the larger Prakith ships, Legion soldiers prepped to counter boarding operations decimated by the psy-implantation trained super soldiers.

Dura Iron was split apart by Ketka Tremor blades with ease.

The Third Maniple of the Fourth Cohort of the Eleventh Legion stood staid in the aft section of Spinal Corridor of the  Glory of Prakith hearing nothing on the Vox but the cries for reinforcement and bitterly futile attempted last stands. 

The Legion was inferior to the Ketka in every possible way.

The yellow lit dinge of the main thoroughfare along the vast Battleship was broken green as blue cutters seared through the dura-iron on every side, a half dozen heavy rounded chunks of metal fell as the Legionnaires charges their Las-Carbines and readied Shock-Sword.

Six Pure Warriors in off white armour leapt at the maniple of forty.  Shots rung out in the dark, blood hissed from quickly opened necks, the Cyborg soldiers vibrating with combat stimulants shredded the Prakith soldiers two or three at a time under the guidance of a mix of direct Cyber-Tac input from mechanical implants and psy-surgery ‘training’.

In 20 seconds as many Legionnaires lay dead. The Centurion grunted in his yell “FOR PRAKITH” fully convinced he would die for the Glorious Path until the Ketka he was driving his Sword at was hauled back as if by a chain round its waist.

The Ketka flew into the skewering blade of Seventh as Aether lighting hammered the other five into the ground, then running along the wall Varan and Davys drove their sword through the Cyborgs as they landed.

A cheer rose in the Maniple even as more Ketka arrived, the Prakith warriors now grinning to see what the Shadow Lords made of these latest enemies to the Glorious Path.

Across the Glory the Aethans ran point to point fending off the seemingly endless stream of boarding Ketka, Kisaea, Taraea and Sixth moved between increasingly void open sections around the bridge, Seventh Varan and Davys kept them from the engines and generators best they could, Daryn and Lynaea protected the main docking bays.

Driving her blade through a Kekta chest Kisaea didn’t have time to pull it free before having to duck another's blow - the head of her attacker was used like a handle for Sixth to lift then crush with his enormous strength, the Aethan giant drawing Ketka attention away from the Legion maniple who did their best to try and shoot or stab the far faster Ketka.

The Flesh crafters machine and stimulant abominations while not as strong or fast as an Aethan were individually superior to even Ailon soldiers, and ebetter equipped with the best armour billions of Hutt credits could buy.

“How long till the jump!” Daryn yelled as he swept between piles of legion corpses and burning fighters to use as cover against over a dozen ketka, Lynaea opportunistically blasting them with Telekinetic fists when she could.

“Imminently,” Admiral Kurzon replied, the gaunt elderyl man with black hair peppered gray bent over the navicomputer that was slowly locking in a confirmed gravity map to ensure they were not instantly obliterated by some recent deep core gav-flux.

Nine green lights in a row, the tenth and last flickered yellow…then white then…

The board went red.

“Shadow Curse it!” he snapped round to the navigational officers bench
“What happened!, did the enemy get to it,”  The three officers scrambled about as Taraea hurled bodies into Ketka firing lines to soak up shots, Kisaea hidden among them.  As Taraea rounded the corner the Ketka, thinking Kisaea another dead body rushed past, she sprang straight into their back with Aether powered stabs.

“We’ll check the lower levels, but we haven’t seen any get that close to the bridge,”

Overhearing everything through the Aethan Telepathic meld Milaea quickly checked the sensors on the Transport as it neared the Hecate, just as another sweep completed the entire vessel buckled and on the Glory’s bridge the Navicomputer board went blank entirely.

“Were we hit?” Ninth asked behind the young Aethan woman.

“No…they have a gravity well generator, it scrambled every navicomputer calculator you have…” Milaea explained as she divided attention between inputting clearance codes to dock with the cloaked Hecate and looking for the source of the interdictor field.

“I can’t get a lock…its somewhere among the Ketka ships but I only have a broad area, it must be cloaked,”

Through the viewscreen she saw the Prakith fleet now ubiquitously burning, air escaping the vessels allowing the fire to take hold, while others sprayed metal, fuel and water into the void through pierced metal skin that crackled with electrical sparks.  Bodies in Dura-Iron floated stone, or worse desperately scrambling, in between the dying ships.

They didn’t have time to try and pinpoint the cloaked ship, Milaea wasn’t sure even the Chiss technology of the Hecate could.

“Sofa, can you buy us time with the Hecate, I need to get to that obelisk array on the Glory of Prakith,” Milaea said with cold focus

Ninth instantly understood what she intended

“The array takes over fifteen minutes to activate and target we don’t have ti…”

“I can do it,” Milaea cut her off with a flash of red energy in her eyes, giving Ninth a quick taste of her full potential.

“Third and I will go with you,” the Remnant leader quickly agreed, taken aback by the intensity of the Aethan woman's power then turned in the cramped ship to look through the cockpit door to the Trinity

“One of you will be needed to prepare your unique explosives,” she said referring to the Naqxium bombs

“I’ll go,” Lysan volunteered

<Well go fast,> Varan grunted to them from the Glory as he struggled in a blade lock with two Ketka, rolling back then blasting a wave of kinetite to get some breathing room.

<We can’t hold out much longer,>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 03, 2022, 11:10:39 PM
Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 5
Second Battle of Teta
[My pure warriors report encountering vast beings in light eating armour…] the Hutt mused as Tnbu watched the sterile holo image of a battle far from here where symbols represented vast metal craft that once plied the stars quickly turning to mere detritus for solar winds to blow.

There was nothing ‘pure’ about the Ketka Tnbu briefly thought, the sick amalgams of flesh, machine and drugs were vile to say the least, exceeded only by the horrific creatures that populated the Flesh crafters vessel - some kind of twisted fusion of - it appeared - Siniteen oversized craniums and Xexto six limbed bodies operated the ships controls as vile overly voluptuous vaguely feminine green tinged humanoids with no real heads incessantly massaged the Hutt with the disgusting liquids that constantly coated him.

“It is them, I can feel it,”

[We shall see,] the Hutt gurgled contemplative 
[We wonder - how many of your Jedi did they kill that you hate them so to come to us?] the Hutt asked seemingly paying no attention to battle, Tnbu hadn’t heard him issue a single command - though Force only knew what cybernetics the Hutt possessed beneath that wrinkled wet skin.

Tnbu remained silent for some time, the accusation of Hate, an emotional anathema to a Jedi Orthodox as he was, striking too close to truth for comfort.

“One is too many,” the Sullustan replied quietly.

<<<<<>>>>>

One moment they saw a vast expanse of stars on the deep core side of the Teta system - the next with vision jarring speed the interiors of a blue-grey hangar as the Transport finally reached the Hecate.

“Stay safe,” Sofa said quickly kissing Milaea’s cheek before rushing to the back and leaping out with Fourth, Fifth, Coryn and Arryn onto the Hecate, each telekinetically taking a few crates of Naqxium with them leaving Lysan arming the bomb as Milaea sped the transport back out into space.

Coryn briefly marvelled at the size of the cloaked vessel

“Yeah big,” Sofa said, “This way,”

They ran at full tilt to the turbo lit of the Malefic class super destroyer, the giant Fourth and Fifth having to duck slightly as their 3.2 meter height scraped on the ceilings.

“This place, feels - not familiar - but logical,” Arryn said as they reached the Bridge level
“I understand the design already…”

“Well built by Aethans for Aethans,” Sofa mused as the turbo lift doors open and they set off again
“Using some Chiss, and stolen Mon-Cala and Kuati tech,” quickly through the large blast doors to the bridge the Aethans who had never set foot on the vessel before seemed to instinctively know where to go, Fifth taking control of navigation, Fourth tactical, Coryn engineering, Arryn straight to weapons.  The command consoles used a Chiss style interfaces but also featured Aethan blackstone and grey-sleet under controls.

“I know this…” Fifth said as he quickly worked out what every button and lever did
“These designs are much like Technocracy craft…”

“Huh you’re surprised Aethans all think alike and make things the same way?” Sofa said jokingly as she took the captains chair, as a relative outsider she more than any other Aethan had observed how their mono-cultural and mono-genetic heritage meant they all made physical artefacts in the same way - that Adaea, Kiraea and Valens had built these vessels in a way similar to the Technocracy was no surprise at all.

“You Tribals are not as different as we thought,” Fourth elucidated in a way Sofa found slightly insulting.

They had bigger problems though. 

Arryn quickly connected his ‘hands’ to the universal connection ports, the patterns of the control systems flowing through his neurons, the ugly legacy of his enslavement mapping weapons pathways that once controlled his fingers.

Part of his mind rushed through the technical specification of weapons the Pykes he had been forced to serve could only dream of -

 24 Hades Megamaser (Charric)Turbo Cannons, 36 Point Defence Maser Energised Phirk Magnetic Accelerator Turrets , 8 Shikkar Torpedo Launchers each with 12 Blackstone Drill tipped torpedoes featuring Proton Bomb Cores. And weapons of true slaughter - 16 Chiss ‘Void Silencer’ Thermonuclear Torpedoes, two at each launcher.

Sofa looked with troubled astonishment as Arryns eyes flitted about in his head taking it all in.

“What did they do to him,” she whispered to Coryn

“Nothing good,” was his solemn reply as the ship began to move on Shadow Drives under cloak.

“Ok once we come out of cloak we’re probably gonna be in for it,” Sofa said as she positioned the ship behind the Ketka force.

“And I have no idea how well things will hold up…” she glanced to the tactical map which showed Milaea transport nearing the Glory and every few second another energy signal that was a Prakith ship dying.

“Everyone ready,”

“I have control,” Arryn said with mechanical certainty

Aethnai vincit omnia” Fourth and Fifth echoed with equal automation

“Ready,” Coryn added
“Frell this whole thing, here we go,” Sofa finished.

<<<<>>>>

650 meters long and black as the void between stars the Hecate shrugged off the Stygium cloaking with a shimmering black-blue oil like sheen replaced by an invisible shell of Tri-Repulsor shields.

The Siniteen like creatures integrated into the Kapa Teesaw - Medium Cruiser - at the rear of the advance Ketka force barely registered the appearance before 8 Hades MegaMaser cannons fired upon it.

Arryn unleashed with perfect synchronicity the full array of the Hecates vast weaponry on the Kapa Teesaw, four Hutt Frigates, Two Corvettes and another of the smaller Cruisers the Capa Teesaw - all twenty four Megamasers, half of the magnetic accelerator cannons and 16 torpedoes cried silent death across the void.

The Kinetic and energy based megamasers hit first, the advanced Hutt tabhatadi shields - Huttese for ‘indontiamble’ took the first two rounds of the Chiss weaponry - that would’ve shredded any lesser vessel - remarkably well.  The third broadside just as the Hutt ships began to pivot cracked the shields just as the magnetic accelerators shots and torpedoes arrived.

Energised ultra-dense phrik bullets tore into the hulls, the double armour plating of the Ketka vessels sparing them much internal damage until the whirring blackstone drill tipped torpedoes began to bore in. 

Too many to direct with the aether they defaulted to seeking out the closest largest power source, eating through deck after deck before their proton bomb core detonated with white blue intensity.

In its opening salvo’s six Ketka ships were destroyed outright, four more crippled. 

On the Aniahiooy - the Dreadnought - at the edge of the system the Flesh crafter was finally interested.

[That vessel looks familiar…] he mused as a handful of plum kidneys were fed to him, the Pohna Kakea enjoying making the Sullustan Jedi nearby uncomfortable as possible.

While far larger the overall shape and initial scans indicated beyond coincidence similarity to the one that had rammed their outpost on Rorak.

Surprise was fleeting.

The Ketka advance force swiftly came about even as they continued to disgorge Single Man boring torpedoes at the Prakith ships, their cannons warmed and ready tearing jade cuts across the crest of Teta’s night side below and bursting into rippling waves on the Hecate’s shields.

The entire bridge rocked with the kinetic impact of the shield tremors caused by the shots, the thrum of the Carcsatto noaz Solar Ionization Reactors intensifying just under Sofa’s expletives as Coryn intensified forward shields and Fifth tried to steer them out of the overlapping fields of fire.

“We can’t take too many of those hits before we lose shields…eight maybe nine…” Coryn called out

The Chiss and Ketka Hutt tech were irritatingly on par, and while the Blackstone hull could probably take far more shots than regular doonium Sofa didn’t want to test it.

“Try and pick off the smaller one and draw them away from the Glory <and dammit Mili hurry up!>” she finished telepathically

They landed in the middle of a fight - Third and Ninth leapt into Ketka backs crushing them with their weight then tearing them off Daryn and Lynaea in the Glory’s port dock, a vast stretch along the side of the vessel crammed with clunky Legion transports and littered with burning fighters and bleeding Legionnaires, ten per Ketka.

“Get them to the Array.” Ninth ordered Third as Daryn struggled up, his leg broken, scalp bleeding, a bloody hand gripped up Lynaea who was nursing a deep wound to her abdomen.

Following Third, Milaea could barely spare the Aethans a glance, Goddesses she wanted to send a bolt of shatter point healing energy their way, but she didn’t know how much power she would need.

Lysan behind her gave his former comrades a quick nod as he hauled the Naqxium bomb on his back.

<We’ve cleared a path as best we can,> Seventh said as Third bashed a Ketka into a wall four times, the armour cracking and cybernetics spilling out mingled with blood that stank of Hyper-Testerone.

Temporarily relieved the Prakith vessels began firing back at the Ketka ships in noble defiance at their own damaged state and fierce determination to eliminate any impediment to the Glorious Path.  The Ketka were unconcerned about their shields more than able to bounce off the blobs of Plasma.

The Hecate’s Mega-Maser fire was a different matter.  The Hades class weapons punched through and shattered half a ship at a time when Arryn was able to concentrate nine or ten shots on a vessel within a few seconds of each other, a task made difficult as Fifth constantly maneuvered the Super Destroyer to avoid the Overlapping killzones the Ketka ships kept trying to herd them into with their cannons.

All the point defence weapons were alive blasting at Boarding Torpedoes the Ketka began to fire at the Hecate, taking up much of Arryn’s incredible concentration. 

“The Nexus!” Sofa yelled grabbing Coryn, content that the others had the ship under control and she was hardly an ace at void warfare.  They blitzed to the Bloodstone chamber, Coryn again briefly marvelling at the construct.

“It amplifies our Aether powers,” she grabbed his hands feeling the rough hewn callous of the young man
“Arryn give us some Torps!” she called, the fromer slave obliging firing off eight more.

“There grip em,” Sofa guided Coryn who quickly understood.

“Just like a cross bow bolt,” he said, taking control of four of the torpedoes hurtling through the cross fire at speeds well beyond sound, the aether Nexus allowing precision control as if it were a simple arrow from his crossbow.

Manually controlling them they were able to avoid the Ketka anti-missile defences more easily, half of their torpedoes getting through striking three different ships, but the Ketka were quick studies, activating EMPs near the missiles to deny their proton core explosions on two, allowing them to only blow one Frigate apart.

Third in front and Ninth behind Milaea and Lysan leapt over Legion bodies, ducked under fallen ceiling panels and shoulder past sparking cables and pipes, only occasionally having to finish off a Ketka Third didn’t demolish, Milaea’s sabers slicing through the neck then leg of one, Lysan’s power claws eviscerating another.

“Through here!” Third called slamming a button on a vast doorway emblazoned with the Tirquetra of Aethas.

The door didn’t budge.

Ninth was immediately beside him as the sound of thumping boots was heard on both sides.  The two vast aethans filled their body with the hollow but intense power they wielded, fingers ramming into the door as they wrenched it open by brute force.

Milaea leaping in barely a millimeter to spare, Lysan pushing in the bomb behind her then crawling in himself as a blaster shot struck his leg.

“We’ll hold them, be fast!” Ninth demanded as the door slammed behind her.

Milaea finally looked at her surroundings and felt briefly disoriented. 

It looked exactly the same as the Obelisk array the People had on Aeda and the empty one on the Hecate -, it seemed every resource the Remnant had was put into this.
“What is…” Lysan said awestruck at the immensity of the Nine Blackstone Obelisks that glared down at him, pregnant with power, aether lighting sparking between them,

There was no time to explain.

“Just stay back,” Milaea said sweeping up the bomb herself, two blue lights indicating it was primed.
“This one the timer?” she said pointing to a button, Lysan nodded
She pressed it, a digital green 10 appeared indicating how many seconds they had before it exploded.

Lysan flinched away, still untrusting and confused about the situation, understandably so.

She sat in the midst of the array drawing the power the Remnant had infused into the Obelisks to her, the sick backwash of how they collected it - through plinths that passively absorbed their ‘citizens’ life force making her cringe to use such.

Pressing her mind out she saw in the ethereal plane the spread of life around her, each being not simply a life sign but a complex mix of emotion, intention, shimmering echoes of their past, hazy possibilities of their futures.

The Ketka stood prominent for their absence of both.  They were blunt crafted things, twitching half-souls with pain in their past and death in their future.  She had to guess, best she could, integrating what she saw here with the tactical maps she had seen on the transport to pick out where the cloaked interdictor was…it wasn’t still…moving..somewhere among the ketka ships…

She couldn’t be precise, but Godesses willing with this Naqxium bomb she didn’t have to be. biting down and pushing out her body glowed red and she turned the baryonic universe to her Will.

Lysan was about to reach out as the timer hit ‘2’ when with a gaping blow of displaced air the whole thing vanished in a flare of red, the young red haired woman slumped to the floor.

Shields failed, turbo laser shots hammered the Hecate’s upper hull blowing off point defence cannons and cutting into the mid tier decks, chunks of blackstone flying off.

Tnbu staggered as he felt the Force unnaturally rip the laws of Physics just before it happened.

A pure white flare that bled into a teal sun exploded in the centre of the Kekta advance force, six of the closest ships disintegrated completely, another two heated and hit with so much radiation the biological crew died instantly, cells exploding out water as steam.
 
The edge of the wave shattered the shields of the rest, ate into the hulls, and the kinetic force sent them spinning uncontrollably.

The Flesh Crafter leaned forward as he witnessed the annihilation of his advance force with a secret glee and growing hunger to know the how of it.

Milaea’s eyes flicked open, the hard scruffy face of Lysan before her calling out her name.

More shouts and words that meant nothing to her, doors opened, Third staggered in pulling Ketka blades embedded in his chest, Ninth hand to her helmet issuing orders.

The weight of her eyelids too much Milaea’s world went dark.

<<<<>>>>



Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 14, 2022, 09:52:54 PM
Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 1
Aresaea
Subdermis coolants pulsing beneath her skin Aresaea bolted upright from her bed, body shaking, every cell screaming as her head burnt.

Her eyes spun round as her hands swept over the bed looking for…looking for someone not there.

Her breathing was still jagged as the door opened.

“Ari, what's the matter my love,” Kiraea said sweeping to her side with a protective hug.

“Mili…something…somethings wrong with Milaea,”

That surprised Kiraea, since leaving Galtea they had heard nothing, their Link orbs rednered all but useless from the Lus’Phor Thought Bomb wave, which also stymied their native telepathic abilities, conventional comms rarely reliable in getting a signal as deep into the core as Aethas was.

“Did you get through to her?”

Ari shook her head
“No I just…I just know she’s in danger…”
Kiraea’ straightened eyes focused
“Where? Aethas?”
Ari crumpled in her adoptive older sisters arms
“I don't know…I should be there, should never have left, I can’t…if anything happens to her,”
Kiraea cradled her tightly kissing her brown-red hair even as she pinged her husband telepathically.
“Nothing will happen to her, we’ll be with her soon,”
Ari could only hope she was right.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea
Light, scent, heat, mass and sound filled the void of nothingness as Milaea awoke to the familiar surround of a room that could be onboard any of their ships given they all looked the same, but the mass and radiation profile told her was the Hecate.

“Goddesses, at last,” Sofa said hovering over her a red healing glow on her open hand.

“You were out for hours,” Sofa passed her some Gromin milk, the creamy slightly pink liquid wetting Milaea’s dry throat.

“How did I…”

“We dropped out with the Prakith fleet - well what’s left of it - about three hours ago, moved all the People over here before another jump to their rendezvous point, just got in a few minutes ago…”

Sofa stood so Milaea could sit up.

“Take a bit of time, everyone is waiting in the Strategium…a lot to discuss…”

Milaea nodded

“Have you heard…”

“From the others, no…all I get is a weird static when I try and use the orbs…” Sofa lifted her hand, the blinding white wedding ring on her finger.
“This lets me know Valens is still alive and ‘moving’ closer but nothing more precise than that…I don’t know if it’s us or them but something has majorly jammed out Aether communications.”

Milaea suspected it wasn’t them, if the Flesh Crafters had any devices to disrupt force users they would have used them at Teta.

But that only worried her more.

“Ari…” she whispered a half effort with her tired powers to reach out to her, but she was too far or unreceptive leaving Milaea cold from the effort,

“Hey I’m sure she’s fine,” Sofa said unknowingly mirroring the sister in law she loved but couldn’t stand Kiraea at that very moment a fifth of a galaxy away.

“Take some time to shower, eat then join us,”

<<<<>>>>

“...don’t have the ships or time, ground is faster,” Ninth insisted as Milaea entered the Strategium.

All the People were there, at the far end from the door behind the the three tactical holo displays in the center of the table that was engraved with a Triquetra, were the Remnant, six giants in full Heavy Aegis armour of another Era, all standing as the chairs were too small for their size.

Milaea quickly noticed two had taken the large Hades Repeaters from the Hecate armoury, all had some implosion grenades and other weapons. All bore scars from the fight against the Ketka on their faces, Third in particular looked more skull than skin.

On the left were the Ailon six, four seated, two of the men standing, their light Aegis Oblivion armour the best they could make with the technology Prakith had available. A few had pieces missing replaced with large bacta patches on dark blooded injuries.

To the right the Trinity of Lysan, Arryn and Coryn - the latter the only one to smile as Milaea came in.

And just past the door was Sofa alone with an empty seat beside her for Milaea.

The men all stood and nodded deferentially as she sat - a sign they all finally acknowledged her legitimacy as a woman of the People.

“We were just discussing how to get the Array onto the Hecate,” Sofa explained
“The Glory is way too beat up, and it's the best weapon we have against the Ketka if they follow us,”

“They will,” Kisaea said
“We found sixteen tracking beacons on five Prakith ships, I’m sure there are more we haven’t found.”

“Are all the Ketka boarders dead?”  Milaea asked

“Finally,” Varan huffed “Took most of the three hours on the first jump after you sent that bomb into the bastards giving us time to make the calculations….”

“The wisdom of the technocracy has been proven in that you instinctively built this vessel with the intention of carrying an Obelisk array,” Ninth redirected.
“We don’t have the cranes or tugs needed to move the Obelisks in space - we will need to land. From this point the closest asset is our primary Blackstone mining colony, head planet side and use their equipment to transfer them.”

“That will not be sufficient,” Arryn said cold as his tactical analysis
“The Ketka fleet still numbers over five hundred vessels, assuming optimal use of the Obelisks power we have energy for only four teleports at close range or two at long range perhaps destroying fifteen vessels each time if they are in close formation.”

“And the Prakith fleet is no match at all, over a third has been wiped out, another third is hobbling,” Kisaea explained.

“Do you have other ships like this one?” Ninth asked Sofa and Milaea

“This is the only Super destroyer, but we have four 300 meter destroyers with half the guns each…but…”

“They are with the others,” Lysan growled

Arryn ran the scenarios quickly into the tables holo-tac-computer…no matter the number of Aethan vessels the Ketka’s numbers and technological equality to their Chiss based ships made defeat inevitable.
 
“Our best course is swap the Obelisks then retreat with the Hecate to Aethas, they have no tracers on this vessel, and - considering the technological superiority of your vessels, the Prakith Empire is now redundant to Purgatio Astra,” Ninth said with marital authority
“We will dominate these ‘Chiss’ instead”

“Wait, you’d leave Prakith to the Flesh crafters?” Sofa retorted learning forward eyes momentarily dark as her hair
“I’m all for ‘when the going gets tough the smart get out’ but that's cold even for Aethans,”

“The Flesh crafters will soon lose interest in Prakith when they cannot find us,” Ninth offered

“Not before tormenting the populace,” Milaea finally spoke
“And it still leaves unresolved how the Flesh Crafters found us, and why they felt bold enough to come all this way with so many troops…there is another force at play here and until we know who and how I doubt we can escape them.”

“We will deal with them in due course, the objectives are clear, land at Providence, transfer the Obelisks then retreat to Aethas and await the others before infiltrating and dominating the Chiss.” Ninths tone brooked no argument.

“Hey you’re not in charge here,” Sofa countered “And you have no idea what the Chiss are like or the larger situation in the galaxy, - Goddesses beyond the galaxy with the frelling Vong - the Chiss won’t be ‘dominated’ like a backwater deep core system like Prakith at the first sign of aether powers. We have a long term alliance we aren’t going to break, Karintha and the others will agree,”

Purgatio Astra...” Ninth began

“Died with the Technocracy 700 years ago,” Milaea now spoke forcefully
“It was an arrogant idea then, suicidal one now. “ She looked to the other People of the Tribe.
“There are only 45 of our Tribe left including everyone here, twelve of those are still unconscious rescued from forced breeding pens the Flesh crafters kept them in - that is why they are after us…”
Milaea backed her words with freely shared memories of healing the six men and women from the vile state they had been found in on Rorak.
“We need to focus on rebuilding, we have twenty cloned infants that are just waiting for parents to adopt them, Lysan,” she turned to the gruff leader of the Trinity
“I recognize your scent now, from Lyaea and Lydan, your children and your wife are alive with the others, Kisaea your cousins Kiraea, Karintha and Yorna are alive,”

“Yorna,” Coryn perked up
“Yes, and more, Arryn I can smell the similarity to Aresaea, the mining village families, Daryn, Davys to Evyn and Evaea, Taraea your uncle Melron - we have lives to live farms and villages to rebuild, Goddesses to honour, children to raise, if the Outsiders step foot on our world, they die - but trying to Cleanse the Stars? No, that ends here,”

Ninth’s suspicion was correct, the Tribals were far too invested in their backward abomination of a culture to be reliable assets to advance Purgatio Astra efficiently.

Regardless they needed them to deal with the Ketka.

“This is strategically irrelevant to our current environment,” was Ninths dismissive reply, the words utterly lost on her even as they bolstered the other People sense of purpose with, for the first time in decades, concrete evidence of what they had to live and fight for - motivations that had no place in the Remnants neural pathways.

“Maybe so but it needed to be said,” was Sofa’s acid rejoinder

“Do you have any alternative method for eliminating this threat?” Ninth pressed argument irrelevant

“No, swapping the Obelisks over and retreating to Aethas until the other arrive is the best course,” Milaea conceded, having already made the point she needed to.

“Sofa why don’t you get the coordinates to this ‘Providence’ and get everyone up to speed with our Hades Weapons and Mark II armour…I need to talk to Ninth alone,”

<Are you sure you’ll be alright> Sofa asked privately knowing the last time they had come into conflict had ended poorly for all concerned.

<I’ll be fine>

With uncertain glances the others all left till the two women remained opposite each other.

“What are you?” Milaea asked bluntly
“I know about the Technocracy, I have Aethena’s memories - and more power than she ever had,” the last words an unconcealed warning.
“And there is nothing in those memories that features gigantic Aethan Soldiers that have been imperfectly raised from the dead.”

Ninth had revealed that fact to none of the Tribals, Milaea must’ve deduced it from a superior ability to analyse aether aura’s.

“We are Project Aertemisaea,” Ninth said equally direct
“You know of Project Aethenaea already,”

“Yes,” Milaea agreed “The Technocracy aim to accelerate the ‘perfection’ of the Aethan species, it produced Valance and Aethena, more powerful than any Aethan before them,”

“There were other Projects, Aethenaea focused on breeding beings with maximal possible aether power, enhancing physical features a secondary goal to ensure their bodies did not collapse under such power. Project Aertemisaea focused on physical enhancement,”
Ninth stretched out her overly long muscular arm
“As the war with the Sith worsened it was reoriented - the Genetic enhancements developed were too extreme for living subjects to endure the rewriting - and the pressing need for more soldiers as our numbers dwindled,”

“They used dead, or dying soldiers from the war, recycling them,” Milaea deduced

“That was the intention, Project Persephaea provided the Black Altars to revive us - ‘imperfectly’ as you term it - Aertemisaea the gene rewiring to give us these enhanced bodies - the process left our connection to the aether and memories of previous life…damaged, the former settled into the state you sense now, powerful but ‘Hollow’, lacking genuine life force, the memories where problematic were removed and replaced with more direct cognitive systems.”

“Making you like machines,”

Ninth could not disagree, though she didn’t understand why Milaea’s tones indicated she thought it a negative - was she not another carbon based machine.

“Only Nine of us succeeded in ‘Reactivating’, but the facility where Project Aertemisaea was located was abandoned or destroyed - by the time we reawoke from our Cryo pods erosion had destroyed three of our number, and all evidence of what occurred - we tried to contact Aethas using Technocracy codes,”

“Which none of the People would know to look for,”

Ninth nodded
“Then reverted to default orders,”
Purgatio Astra,”
“Correct,”
“The Other projects, what were their goals?”
“Persephaea aimed to extend our life spans indefinitely and resurrect the dead,”
“The Blackstone Altars,”
“Indeed.  Project Aephrodaea sought to drastically increase Aethan fertility and genetic variation to avoid inbreeding and enhance regenerative capacity. Aethas small population has always been our greatest weakness, even during the Technocracy.”

Milaea had other views on what the Aethans greatest weakness was, but Ninth was hardly the type to be receptive to such a discussion.

“And everything died when the Sith reached Aethas, you wake up 700 years late with the last order Purgatio Astra locked in your head…and I’m guessing my claim to Aethena’s legacy isn’t enough to countermand that order.”

Ninth shook her head.

They were little better than the Ketka, Milaea realised.

Well aware all Aethans were slaves to their instincts at the best of times, this Remnant of the Technocracy was mechanically so, bereft of the stunted emotional range and procreation drive that left the People with some semblance of civilization and culture.
Uneasy silence filled the air before they left.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 14, 2022, 09:54:44 PM
Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 2
Ar’On’Dir
From lethargic routine to panicked frenzy his world changed in an instant.

Orders had come through the Vox-Gram harsh and clipped
[Clear PSLA. Transfer of OBESK Req.]

For Aron still as Director of the Mine it meant clearing the PSLA - Planetside landing area of every craft and cart and having his full teams woken from their rest cycles to haul the massive cranes and moving equipment that had placed the hideous black Obelisks into the Glory of Prakith back into place.

“...get it to the far side behind the 30 meter line!” his voice called in the rote words of his ‘occupation’ as the Knight it concealed wondered what had happened on distant Teta to cause such a treat.

He thrust his finger through the air hollered at the groggy workers and helped shove half full carts of dense ore off the pitted ferrocrete.

Had the Jedi counterattack forced the Shadow Lords to retreat?  Would they follow them here?  Should he keep acting as spy or turn full on saboteur. 

Until he knew more he had to keep acting the role of Mining Director he’d had for years on the rocky thin atmosphere world.

The itching heat of the dull orange sun began to rise over the southern horizon, while not deadly the days heat was slightly less uncomfortable than the lightless depths of the mines.  Working on anything on the vast shadeless expanse of the landing zone would be horrible, shifting the malefic obelisks arguably the worst of all tasks.

Legion troops scurried about in formation not sure where to stand at attention as the hours passed.  They had no further signal to go on, no indication of when the Glory would arrive or what would arrive with it.

Within four hours they had done all they could possibly do to prepare, a fretful hour passing in anxious suspense, workers hudling in the shades of bulky cranes and hauler-trucks.

His thoughts boiled endlessly as he stood in the mines mouth, wondering what to do, if the Jedi arrived, should he take up arms, try and get onto their side, would Odjina be with them? Soryu? Tnbu at least surely.

Never had he been so close to freedom, and never more at risk of losing everything.

Breathing out deeply he hummed a calming tune on his lips, letting the Force soothe him, trusting in the Maker.  He had waited over a decade for this day, what was an hour more.

<<<<>>>>

Providence

The Hecate slid and the Glory stumbled out of hyperspace.

They had made one additional stop to clear the Glory of any tracking devices and send the rest of the fleet on to the Outpost at Yevish V where they could, if not repair, at least refuel and prepare to launch an attack against the Ketka from behind if they arrived.

The Glory of Prakith was by now barely functional, sheer obdurate effort would get it planetside in one piece, but it would never break the atmosphere again.

It hardly mattered, they now had access to a far superior force, Ninth need only confirm the extent of the Tribals resources before determining her next step. She briefly extended her senses to just brush on the two Tribals at the helm of the Hecate as the other Tribals and her own squad equipped the Chiss Tech based weapons the ship had a small store of.

If the other Tribals were as sentimental as Milaea and Sofa there would be difficulty, however Ninth strongly suspected these two were outliers, the Hecate itself evidence that more military minds existed among the Tribals Ninth could potentially reason with.

“That thing gonna survive the burn?” Sofa gestured to the Glory annoyed she was unable to read the Giant Remnant commanders thoughts - not for want of trying - they all seemed so very ‘algebraic’ following in perfect sequences depending on input, lacking personality to Sofa’s aesthetic sense.

“We will ensure it does.” Ninth replied patching into Providence Orbital control to arrange for Tugs to help lower the sputtering ships that confirmed its terminal decline as a stabilising nacelle ripped free.

The process was slow and painful, the Hecate using its powerful tractor beam to help guide the already tug tethered ship to the ground slow enough to avoid extreme re-entry burns while also fighting off the planet gravity that sought to bring it to the jagged mountain peaks at 12 meters per second.

It landed with a thud that sent dust blasting on every side.  The workers however were one and all cowering at the immensity of the Hecate.  While only a third of the size of the immense Glory its hull was made almost entirely of the ultradense blackstone they sought in the depth of the planets crusts - even these men and women as inured to the materials effects as any mere mortals could be were overwhelmed by the sheer gravity of the vessel.

Aron trembled even as he issued orders to reverse the painstaking process that had placed the Obelisks in the Glory, no idea how to transfer them to this beastly vessel.

It oozed the Malefic darkness of the Blackstone, but while the Obelisks and Plinths of the shadow lords made Aron fear for the Galaxies soul, this abominable ship made him fear for its very body.

Out of its large portside docking ramp a collection of Shadow Lords emerged, the usual Large and a number of smaller ones all coated in their dense armour, but this time there was one in armour of fresh-red blood, another whose black plate featured squint inducing white inlays.

As he kept his face low and strode toward them with Prefect Tharrum, he tried to understand what was happening.  There was no way this vessel could belong to the Shadow Lords of Prakith - he had been in charge of the mine since it first broke ground, they had not mined half of what would be needed to make such a ship in all those years, let alone in such large seamless pieces - it was hard enough finding solid blocks the right shape for the Obelisks.

Maker it could only mean there were other Shadow Lords with access to vastly superior mines and ship building technology…

Maker forgive me if I’ve led the Jedi into a trap he prayed silently suppressing his Force presence before the Lords, the Prefect offering customary greeting to the Lords, exalting the Glorious Path and affirming his dedication to it.

Aron mumbled along as the inconsistencies grew in his mind If the Shadow Lords had such ships why bother with the Glory of Prakith, why use this outdated technology to mine?  He could only hope the Jedi understood the situation for he was flummoxed.

“...transferred immediately, no resource is spared,” the machine tones of the Shadow Lord echoed in his ears as he returned to the conversation.
“How quickly Lord,” Tharrum asked in obedience.

“Within the hour,”

Aron finally baulked at that.

“A problem Director?” The Lord’s eyes turned to him, a physical weight upon his very souls

“I…I mean it took nearly two days to move them into the Glory and I need to check the installation side, see how best to move them to the new vessel…”

The gaze turned to lead dripping on his mind.

“I just need a little time to figure the best way, all the workers are dedicated, Lord,” he quickly rambled to seek relief from the Lords attention.

“Very well,” she gestured to one of the nameless Lords

“Show him the path from the cargo holds to the Array,”   

Third duly complied taking the Prakith menials into the Hecate

“The Ketka could arrive any moment and we are exposed,” Ninth said among the Aethans as they headed toward the Glory where cranes were lifting panels off the top of the nearly two kilometer long vessel.

“We still haven’t been able to contact the others,” Milaea said, certainly not for want of trying.

They paused at the side of the towering starboard face of the Glory laser burns the width of a hover car etched into the side still steaming from re-entry.

“Together we should be able to speed progress,” Ninth dictated.

Even with 17 Aethans assisting it was a slow process to move the nine vast Obelisks, telekinesis was not an option Obelisks instinctively ate any aether energy directed at them to recharge, the Prakith equipment groaned at the weight of the rest of them as they moved the first three, a number of crane cables snapping delaying things further.

Aron worked out as best a way to get them across the short gap on the ferrocrete and into the new vessel as he could with the tools available, still it relied more on brute strength than mechanical advantage and took a toll accordingly - every Legionnaire, officer and staffer from Providence and the Glory heaving and pulling on harsh steel cables that cut into palms as they shifted the Obelisks on a track made of bulky thick ferrocrete cylinders lubricated with machine oil.
The Aethans still account for over half the work, a demi-god joining each ‘grip gang’ to pull the devices forward then push them up into the Hecate.

After the first three the process was, if not perfected, then at least worked out, giving Aron brief time to take in the interior of the Hecate, the color palette cold, the technology smooth and advanced.

Surely they must have a Hyper-Comms array…

A cold sweat of fear mingled with the hot sweat of exeterion as he considered - every Shadow Lord was helping the movement, there were hundreds of bodies all around, he could slip away and no one would notice.

He still did not understand the situation, only that the Lords were desperate to move the Obelisks and the Glory had taken an absolute beating.

The simplest scenario he could come up with was the invasion had gone badly, the Glory barely escaped, somehow different Shadow Lords had arrived and now they sought to salvage the Obelisks, and doing it planetside quickly meant they were afraid they were being followed.

He swallowed hard catching his reflection in the glossy interior panels of the Shadow Lords vessel, the face of a weary man who missed his family - and yet accepted adn trusted the Maker had put him here for a purpose.

This had to be it, this had to be the moment.

As the Legionnaires cried out ‘Heave’ and the fourth obelisk cracked another ferrocrete cylinder he vanished into the ship.

<<<<>>>>
 

Yeshiv

Yeshiv V was not a battle, it was attempted retreat then slaughter.

Ketka vessels jumped at eight points around the Prakith fleet, their sheer numbers now greater than the Deep Core natives combined with superior technology - no longer mitigated by the Shadow Lords superhuman tactical brilliance - to devastate a quarters of what was left in moments, leave another quarter burning, and watch indifferently as the remaining half of the Prakith fleet retreated.

[They were not here] the Flesh crafter mused as Tnbu glared across the tactical maps for any trace of them, his senses felt none of the Force trickery either.

“They have abandoned their slaves,” Tnbu deduced “Perhaps they returned straight to Prakith,”

The Hutt burped wetly, the equivalent of a sneer of incredulity.

[If we do not find them there Jedi, I will be most displeased…you promised to tell me where they were, you were correct once I grant - do not be incorrect twice]

Tnbu’s glassy eyes blinked and ear involuntarily curled in Sullustan fear response.

He had the Nexu by the tail and it was about to turn on him. 

Force! He needed a miracle.

His comm vibrated. He lifted it to his ear, confirmed his infinity then had a familiar voice patched through.

“Master Tnbu, its Ar’On’Dir - I’m on the Shadow Lords ship,”

He got one.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 14, 2022, 09:56:59 PM
Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 3

Inferno

“...on Providence, DC_10004568, just over six hours now,”
“I know it is much to ask but can you delay them further?”
“I’ll do what I can, please Master is Odj….”

Aron’s words stopped dead as ice cold metal pressed against the back of his neck.

“Knight Dir?” the whistle like voice of a Sullustan came over the comm

Raising his hands Aron stood dead still as a hand passed him and switch the comm off, the wide cool ring of what he recognised as a light saber emitter never leaving his neck.

Sofa knew that high pitched whistling voice, what she didn’t know was who this ‘Knight Dir’ was.
Aron spoke first.
“Ask anything you want, but I don’t know anything,”

“Pretty deep cover for a Jedi, what happened? Your quantum-comm break down?” Sofa asked noting his well worn outfit, calloused hands, the dust from the mines that could never seem to be washed from his rough hair - if he had to sneak around the Hecate to contact his bosses something had gone wrong.

“I’m not a spy, not a saboteur…” Aron sighed accepting that his life was now over then straightened his posture even as the saber waiting to cut into his throat pressed on his skin.
“..Just a lost Knight of Mak’Tor who wishes he could see his family one last time,”

He closed his eyes waiting for snap hiss that signalled his execution.

The Emitter vanished from his neck.

“Your Maker is watching out for you Mak’Tor,” Sofa replied at last, the lost knight blessed to have been caught by one of only two People who would spare him.

“How long do we have?” she asked as he slowly turned around to see nought but the blank Mark 2 helm inlaid with thin lines of Whitescar marking it as unique to Sofa.

“I honestly have no idea,”

“Too bad,” swifter than he could see she smacked the hilt of her saber into his temple dropping the Mak’Tor like a sack of rocks.

<<<<>>>>

<It’s Tnbu,> Sofa said bluntly as Milaea and Ninth gritted, pulling the fifth Obelisk out of the Glory using cables and pulleys.

<He knows we’re here,>

<Tnbu? a Jedi would never work with the Flesh crafters?> Milaea replied incredulous

<That big eared plate faced little quim is no Jedi, just an Orthodox Abnegation tragic,> 

Milaea disliked Sofa’s quick retreat to racial insults of the Sullustan but it was Ninth who telepathically replied next.
<Who is Tnbu?>
<Head of Jedi Intelligence on Courascant last we knew, he was one of the more moderate Masters, respected, orthodox but not dogmatically so, it seems the Night of Madness, Myrkr and Ord Mirit have hardened him more - but to the point of working with the Hutts…where did you find this out?> Milaea explained

<An unwitting agent I caught, dealt with, but I don’t know how long we have.>

<Then we redouble our…>

<Contact from Yeshiv> Third interrupted
<The Fleet has been hit again, half their number lost, the rest routing>  details and numbers flowed in the group mind.
In 75 hours they had gone from a Fleet of 500 ships to barely 100 functional, hundreds more escape pods and lifeboats scattered across systems.

<How far is ‘Yeshiv’> Sofa asked quickly

<For our ships eight hours> Ninth replied, Sofa quickly calculated based on the Hecate speed assuming the Ketka were just as fast

<Then we have four hours - maybe three>

<<<<>>>>

(https://i.ibb.co/4d0kBJ5/Providence.png)

They had far less. 

Ketka boarders had long since taken the navigation computers of a dozen Prakith vessels, the Flesh Crafters Siniteen spliced living computers analysing rapidly the best paths through the winding safe jump routes of the Deep Core Scavenger Zones that fringed the Danger Zones.

The Hutt ships better shields and stabilisation systems allowed them to cut hours off the trip as they could jump far closer to the Stellar giants than the rickety Prakith vessels, and the Flesh Crafter was unconcerned if a few dozen vessels were lost on the fringe of the convoy.

Tnbu stood firm as he could as the Aniahiooy pushed through a swirl of stars more pink and green than the usual blue, busying himself from the unmvoing Hutts dripping gaze by ensuring he and the other Sworn brethren of the Oath of Vigilance were ready to deploy immediately. 

He had 15 Jedi with him and 10 Seinar-Mech Batlesuits to give them mechanical enhancement to counter the Aetherians genetically abominable strengths.

They would still need the numberless brutes of the Ketka to wear them down.

There were only three more Obelisks to move on Providence, backs were sprained, equipment ruined trying to move the vast dense objects between ships.  The Aethans were divided between moving the Obelisks and installing the ones they had properly - Aethan similarity of thinking meant they were compatible, but the Remnants need to power the Obelisk with harvested Force energy from millions of their subjugated populations meant core aspects of feeding power in were different.

Milaea was the expert but still drained from the teleportation, Sofa, Taraea and Arryn assisting.

The Seventh Obelisk had barely been lifted from the Glory when the Ketka arrived.

Again holding his largest ships back the Flesh Crafter sent his ‘smaller’ vessels forward to surround the planet.

“We should bombard,” Tnbu demanded “Recover fragments later,”

The Flesh Crafters lips bubbled the ubiquitous slathering fluids that dripped from him about to reply but remained silent as the landing craft packed with Ketka began to descend, effortlessly sweeping away the limited orbital defences.

The Hutt had his own agenda. 

Destroying their outpost on Rorak hardly bothered his maligned order of Hutts, the death of one of their number irritating as it meant another had to leave the soft bosom of Pybus to maintain a ‘presence’ outside the Bootana Hutta. 

The True irritation was taking the genetic samples of the meta-humans before the Flesh crafters had time to fully digest the chromosomal delights they offered - certainly their species reproduction was too finicky to ever produce units on a large scale compared to the easily grown Klatoonians, but their unique adrenal hormones could have provided excellent combat stimulants.

That and he now wished to possess one of those magnificently dark triangular ships that had been able to vaporize so many of his own with an explosive of a kind his vast reference library had no match for.

The Hutt simply leaned back as his servants massaged the preservative moisturisers deep into the fatty folds of his body, squelching out clogged pieces from early applications that had gone mouldy.

Unlike the agitated Jedi he was in no hurry, time and resources were on his side.

The very things the Aethans lacked.

“HAUL!” Seventh demanded, the focused Remnant skidding from cable to cable past the smoking ruined mechanized carts substituted now with human muscle.

Still two more Obelisks to shift then get the Hecate off the ground and into space, it would take at least another hour at this pace.

<Ketka craft incoming> Kisaea on top of the Hectae confirmed moments before the sirens cried over the mines landing pads, the upper side of the Hecate had 12 point defence turrets they could turn on the bulbous landers - the Ketka pilots were no fools coming in below their firing arcs before approaching closer.

There was almost nowhere they could fortify, the few Legionnaires not on the crowded cables pulling or rotating the ferrocrete cylinders were shifting the ruined machinery to barricade the traffic control tower and around the Legion Outpost and Bunker - it was unlikely to last long against a force as well armed as the Ketka.

A third of the Seventh Obelisk was inside the Hecate - better to lose two Obelisks than their lives.

<Start the engines and get the last one in then we leave,> Ninth directed, there was no argument, only efficient motion among the Aethans as the common drive to survive synchronized their efforts.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 14, 2022, 09:59:34 PM
Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 4
Inferno

Head popping from the cramped access tunnels beneath the Array Sofa helped the handless Arryn up, the tech savant would be needed to pilot the craft.

The Ailon Six, Coryn and Lysan lef the humans to push the Obelisk in and took up positions around the Hecate as they felt the blunt life force of over 800 Ketka warriors narrow on them in groups of 80, another 1000 or more coming from the sky.

Fifth, Fourth and Sixth leap behind the obelisk pushing with all their might to get it in, inch by slow inch.

As the Hecate Repulsors began to blast dust and air from around i, knocking over the exhausted sweat covered miners by the dozen the first mortars began to hit the ground.

Red-yellow electricity crackled through the air as the shells exploded overhead raining down charged particles that burnt human flesh, sniper fire began picking off miner who scrambled for over abandoned efforts to lift the Eighth Obelisk.

Held up by tenuous pulleys and cranes it wobbled and crashed back into the Glory with a dull thud that was replaced by the buzzing hiss of Ketka rifles as they neared.

Legion troops charged and blasted their Plasma Scorpions back into the white armoured Cyborgs that ran at them with mindless ferocity. Bordered on one side by the mountains vast gravelly expanses punctuated by sharp rocks and hills. 

Though absent any meaningful cover the Ketka rushed forward, Swoops and Hover platforms offering support with beam weapons that lanced through the Legion positions.

The Ketka were coming in groups of 80 from every side, over the Ore bins to the north, the workers dormitories south, and through the landed ore haulers west, avoiding the Legion Outpost and comms array. their fighters began to swarm over the battlefield, not firing but surveying the Aethan positions, Arryn only just managing to fire off a few shots from the Hecate deck guns but not in time to hit any.

<They want to capture the ship,> Ninth realised, a fact that worked both for and against her.
<More than that they want to capture Us> Milaea added having seen all too often how covetous Outsiders were of Aethan bodies.

As if he had never left Lysan joined the ranks of the Ailon Six as they raced round the bulk of the Glory, tearing chunks of the hull to make their own cover on the otherwise empty ferrocrete expanse, Varan fired the first shot from a Hades rifle taken from the Hecate nailing a Ketka head, Coryn leaping up the Glory to snipe them down one at a time with his crossbow.   

They came from every side at a run over 30 kmph, utterly indifferent to the handful of losses to Legion las carbines, cybernetically enhanced targeting enabled them to inflict five times the casualties in a quarter of the time.

Panic took the miners who fled to the mountains, the Legion Centurions screamed in defiance as they were shot to pieces, the Ketka grenades and missile launchers demolishing any cover they had scrambled behind.

160 Ketka swarmed the Legion Outpost, desperate soldiers hunkered in their moats and behind crenellated duracrete undone by the Klatooinian cyborgs incredibly athleticism, leaping over the defences and dripping their thermal grenades to boil the Prakith soldiers in their Dura-Iron.

In moments the Ketka reached the Aethans, the united People hurling vast blocks of metal from the Glory into the packs, crushing a few as the others broke into smaller groups of eight instantly. 

Hades and Ailon rifle fire burnt and scratched a score of Ketka helmets from off white to carbon black, telekinetic and lighting blasts floored dozens. 

There were still a hundred more.

Lysan roared and leapt over the makeshift barricade, his vibro claws humming to rip into the cyborgs, viciousness and speed on his side slashing through three in as many seconds until their horde surrounded him, Varan and Davyn reaching his side to create a melee front as the others fired into the mass of plas-steel coated armour.
More arrived from the North, most of the Remnant leaping from the nearly inside Obelisk to shore up the few dozen Legionnaires before they were overwhelmed.

Fifth tore the head clean off one as three more stabbed their termor blades into his Aegis armour, Third lifted half a dozen from the ground telekinetically, compressed them into balls and hurled them into the others.  Still more came.

With a desperate final pulse Ninth and Seventh nudged the Obelisk just inside.
<In, begin take off!> She ordered
Arryn compiled quickly as the Repulsors reached sufficient polarisiation to repel the planets gravity, the Hecate slowly staggered 10 meters off the ground, then buckled and shook, invisible tethers pulling it back to ground.

Mind connected to the ships sensor sweep via his cybernetic ‘hands’ he ‘saw’ the leashes being thrown round them.

<Four Tractor beams at 1.233 meter NNE, 677 meters SW, 1190 meters WSW, 811 meters SSE>

<Shavit> Sofa hissed next to him as the Hutts plan glided as smooth as huttlet in birthing mud.

The Flesh Crafter had expected they would try to lift off as soon as he arrived, and while he had interdictors and ships in orbit, it would be much less messy if the ship remained on the ground.

Four whasoka Frigates had their tractor beams stripped and taken to the surface to pin the vessel as soon as it tried to launch ensuring a flood of his Pure Warriors could smother the tasty little bio samples.

Arryn doubled the power on the repulsors the Ketka countred in turn with their own generators.

<We’re at the limits without risking a drive overload>
<We need to take out those tractor beams,> Ninth determined

<Easier said than done!> Varan hissed as he plunged his fist into a Ketka chest, two tremor blades in his thigh already as their dead piled up.

Each Aethan could easily take on 2 or 3 Ketka at a time, the gigantic Remnant 4 or 5 -  there were now over a thousand on the ground and only 17 of them.

<I can take one, the furthest west> Milaea said, already rushing out of the Array, leaving trails of red even as her head still felt the scratch of aether exhaustion from the teleportation.

<We can get the ones south> Kisaea hissed over over her own rifle fire as she crouched beneath Tarae’s kinetic shield, Daryn behind them tumbling with Ketka trying to flank them knives and fists punturing armour.

<Fourth will assist you, we will deal with the ones north> Ninth confirmed.
<Arryn lock the Hecate up,> Sofa called as she blitzed to the exit <I do not want to be mopping Ketka blood from these floors>

She turned the corner dodging the seventh Obelisk just as Milaea arrived, the pair squeezing hands before they parted, Milaea all but flying on red energy mists over the battlefield.

Lysan briefly looked at her pass over in stunned silence before having to avoid another Ketka thrust to his neck, turning the blade aside and ramming his claws, already two broken off in Klatooinian bodies, into the Ketka chest - the creature simply stared indifferent and tried again before he bashed it down in a frenzy of blows, staggering off the corpse to join the others as they waded through in a rough chevron piercing the gang of 60 or so to make a run for the ore haulers where a tractor beam was hiding in the midst, Fourth coming in on the flank bulldozing two Ketka into the ground, one grabbing at her heel, the Remnant warrior blasting the head off with three shots from the Hades repeater in vicious overkill.

Ciy’Keueketka were enormous by humanoid standards, 2 meters tall at least, overly muscled from adreno-stimms pumped through their bodies from spawning and covered in armour and cybernetic servos to enhance that strength further. 

The Remnant, dead Aethans reborn into super sized bodies smashed through them with sword and shoulder.  Built to kill Sith Knights of ancient wars these aether less abominations were little match one on one, only in numbers did they pose a threat to the products of project Aertemisaea.

Numbers they had.  The air was full of beams, the soils churned by quick aggressive stances, every centimeter of Aegis armour scarred by Tremor blades.  They killed with each passing second, but more still came.

Third was suffering semi-concussion, Seventh was limping, Sixth left arm hung inoperable and bleeding.  all this and they were not even at the Ore bins.

It reduced their combat effectiveness drastically, their right flank faltering until a blue white blade cut through half a dozen ketka waists followed by a runic energised circles that levelled four more into writhing messes of twitching nerves.

Sofa leapt into the midst of the Ketka catching her thrown lightsabre and moving seamlessly into Soryu’s smooth Niman variant that was all but impenetrable in defence true to her Jedi fathers peaceful nature.

Yet even she suspected he wouldn’t hesitate to cut down the monstrous Ketka as she did now, moving out of her defence to lance them in joints and necks where she could - but each attack left her incredibly vulnerable and disrupted the flow of Soryu’s form.

<I’m better to soak up attention,> Sofa grunted to the Remnant who used her charge to regroup.  Ninth used her for just that reason, weaving her squad's weakest members near Sofa so they could cut into the backs of those trying to pierce the former Jedis' implacable guard as they slowly advanced.

<This will make a glorious tale> Taraea said amidst crunching Ketka throats with her mind while using a crane operator box door as a makeshift shield against concentrated fire
<If we survive> she added kicking a grenade back at the enemy the thermal device spraying molten energy that glassed the ground.

They were only just at the edge of the parked mining tugs, the Ketka swarming all over the tops of them firing down.

<No sure thing we will,> Davys sniped as he grabbed one of the tug with his mind, too exhausted to lift it his aether power just enough to make it sway and tumble to the side, the Ketka on top losing footing and falling into a furious Lysan and Varan. 

No sure thing at all Milaea knew as she wove through the fire from below, a Red Angel descending from the heavens onto a hundred and sixty daemons that surrounded the Tractor Beam and generator.

Her arm reaching out, red flames flung from her fingertips, aether turned to kinetic, thermal and electrical energy in each bolt that struck the bulky rounded device, shearing through the metal and blasting the circuitry and vibrating mass synthesisers beneath.

The Hecate lifted another dozen meters as one of its chains was broken, but the others increased their strength to compensate.

Milaea landed in a crater of flaming energy sending dozen Ketka flying, tensing already to leap into the air again when for just a moment the fatigue flickered her defences - shots got through.

Bloodstone armour took the brunt, but the opening was exploited, the Ketka she had knocked recovered quicker than expected leaping at her, servo and stimm strengthened digits grasping at her keeping her pinned to the earth.

Her saber quickly in hand she sliced at the arms but found the ‘Pure Warriors’ armour slow to cut through even with her highest energy setting.

The Ketka punished any slip and exploited every chance, in moments she was surrounded and battered from every side, the aether kept her fast enough to turn her saber to a blazing moving shield against the plasma and tremor blades but little more.

The teleportation had taken more out of her than she realised.

Size and unflinching zealotry of the Remnant, coordination and fierce survival instinct of the Ailon Six and Coryn, Lysans berserk rage, Sofa’s obdurate defence, Milaea’s determination - all handfuls of sand thrown against the tsunami of the Flesh Crafters Pure Warriors that were poised to envelope them completely.

They could kill dozens, hundreds even, but not the thousands the Flesh Crafters profligacy threw against them.

Milaea had already played her ace card to escape Teta, the Hecate was grounded, People spent, Remnant toppling.

Tnbu’s ears twitched as the Orbital footage came through, images grainy at the extreme zoom but the tactical feedback clear, as dead Ketka numbers rose one by one the ‘Enemy Unit Estimated Stamina' levels decreased exponentially.

Milaea’s arms worked quickly, but the Ketka were outpacing her. Waves of kinetic energy blasted Ketka off their feet by the dozen, she rushed into the gap but it was filled with bodies faster than she could sprint - the tide could not be stopped.

Tremor sword found her, artificial strength smashed the blades into her shoulders and back, the momentum ricocheting through her limbs as she staggered down, balling her body energy closely for another push.

Not for the first time she felt the cold breath of death on her neck, an imminence to her own downfall, the warmth and light that unconsciously rose to push back the darkness was a face in her mind's eye, the aqua green eyes that curved just so over smooth cheeks, red-brown hair that framed a face she longed to see once more.

<Ari…> Milaea spoke with the pure voice of her soul through time and space as she felt the gnawing hunger of unfulfilled desire more keenly than the blaster needles that cut into her side,

Cries of desperation from the others were drowned by regret of their love never to be consummated - the blades of the Ketka seemed the lesser pain.

<...I Love You…>

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on March 26, 2022, 06:11:11 PM
Interesting juxtaposition seen throughout "Conflagration" (both the First & Second postings) where you have three disparate groups that have been engineered for conquest: the Tribals, the Remnant, and the Flesh Crafters.  Most telling is the fact that all three not only share a singular motive distinct from the others, but that their methodology very well could have been with the same results in mind.  Of course, the devil is in the details: whereas the Tribals and the Remnant share a particular fidelity to their own (further stratified by the "Old" versus "New" societies of People), the Flesh Crafters have but a single objective--the utter destruction of those impugning on Nal Hutta designs.   Thrown into the mix is a compromised Jedi (wonderful twist that) whose own motives are a double-edged sword: justice/revenge for the wrongs against the Jedi Order.  But Tnbu's intentions are far from laudable, even when you consider that he has come to his position during/after Kimar's own xenophobic orthodoxy has infected the Order proper (ironic given the propensities of the Aethans...or perhaps merely another reason that Valens--and by extension the Aethan groupmind--become so dogmatic against Outsiders).

Once again proving the point that things are almost NEVER simply "black or white."

Against this backdrop, we have the established relationships of the Remnant (being both Hollow in the Force as well as any Society), Sofa--her love for Valens, her People, and a visceral tolerance of Outsiders, a trait shared with Mili--thrust once again into the role of mentor for her former apprentice in stark contrast to the burgeoning newness of Mili's own (and finally realized!) feelings of love for Ari.  Conflating these relationships is the uncertain loyalties of the Trinity and the Ailron Six.  Despite a genetic imperative to obey Mili or even Sofa, the horrible experiences of the two groups have inured them to the expectations of the Tribal society (not to mention the gene editing of the Technocracy), to say nothing of the absolutely unreliable alliance of the Remnant.  Even united by brief circumstances, the Aethans are not enough to overcome the sheer numbers of an enemy that feels no fear, no pain, no trepidations.

There are reasons that the galaxy at large has outlawed fleshcrafting... Too bad that the Hutts couldn't care less about ANY sort of morality.  Only profits.

Still: I'm sure that even with this engagement, the aftermath will almost certainly NOT be definitive...which means that there is something else in the near/far future that will ultimately lead to further Conflagration between Aethan & Outsider.  And--as we've seen MANY times in our Forumverse stories--there will be at least ONE outcome/reason/ramification arising from the conflict that will NOT be planned nor easily solved.

Meta-note: Yet another awesome poster, LSG!  Can't wait to see what's forthcoming  :)


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 28, 2022, 04:42:29 AM
Chapter 53 — Conflagration — Intractable — Part 1
Providence
<I Know>
Ari replied as the particle filled wind scratched against her armour in an endless hiss.

Of course she knew, she had always known. From the first time she had seen Milaea’s face, it was that very moment Ari had felt the electrical tingling need to know, touch, be with someone in ways she had never felt before.

She swayed in time with the hard banking as anti aircraft fire rose from below and locked missiles screeched at them from behind, her left hand gripping hard to the edge of the Vorynx fighter as Taryn did a triple loop and hammered the reverse thrust to send the missile shooting past then burst the Phrik cannons, the missiles exploding into blue-white flares that they sped through just after the most intensely destructive anti-heat had died.

The fire was thick and fast.

<Now> She demanded of her pirate friend.  Her vestibular systems warbled in annoyance as the fighter dove at a 70 degree angle toward the ground at twice the speed of sound, visual information flooding past at the limit of what her mind could process before she leapt.

Turbo laser bolts and PLEX missiles flew in the opposite direction as she free fell down, Taryn pulling up sharply leaving her to fall.

To her left and right Xani, Lyaea and Selaena likewise pulled up, their own hull riding passengers having leapt off.

The Four Vorynx fighters vanished far above into the maelstrom of fire as Ari pushed a wall of kinetic power ahead of her to cushion her descent and crush anything beneath.

She had heard Her not just hours but days - maybe even years! - before. 

Milaea finally fulfilling Ari’s own deepest wish by reciprocating her love, the declaration knowing no boundaries of time or space had finally blossomed fully in Ari’s heart mere hours before and led her here moments after.

The kinetic shield slammed down, splattering a whole squad of eight Ketka into the dirt, compacting them into twisted midget forms lodged in the rock as Ari landed in a crater, knees tensed that sprung her into a sprint.

Her sabers sprung to life as the Ketka turned to face her, the nearest having their faces melted by lighting from her eyes, the next severed into three hissing chunks as she pirouetted through them.

Milaea’s heart near burst with joy as she hurled her energy outward, sending Ketka flying off her, shouldering and stabbing her way through them.

Telepathic orders and astonishment across the battlefield were distant echoes to the rhythmic squeeze of their hearts as they tore through the Ketka that found themselves the unenviable barrier between the two women and subject to the full force of their desperate, ferocious need to reunite that would demolish any impediment with bloody grace.

Head and limbs flew from Ketka bodies, suits of armour trapped aether burning flesh within, entire squads exploded as telekinetic grips burst grenades on their belts. 

The blood and dust mist of the battlefield cleared as they ran toward each other, blades slicing open the handful of nearby attackers, till clear for a precious moment they ran to each other, helmets torn off in frantic need.

Ari and Milaea came together in a clink of armour, gripping swirling embrace and sweeping flutter of their hair that cut out the outside universe for a moment as their lips pressed together under the distant light of exploding ships in the dusk sky.

(https://i.ibb.co/whWC8Tt/ROTA-Kiss.png)

Time seemed to pause in the purple and red aura that spread round them as their kiss deepened and lengthened with the sway of their bodies.

Jarys bought them the moment - breaking Ketka two at a time, tough as the cyborgs were, compared to the Mighty Triarch - Lion of the Vhal’Dan Nurhl Båz-Rhadde -, they were child's play.

<I love you Mili> Ari poured out as the lovers parted, unwillingly returning to the galaxy of war about them unspoken promises to find that serene joy together once more hovering in the air between them.

Ari’s embrace was replaced by Jarys fiercely protective arm around Milaea’s shoulders, pressing his daughter's head to his chest before she could slip her helmet back on.

“Thank the Goddesses we got here in time,” the large aethans voice trembled with unconcealed tears of fear for his child, the heady emotions quickly fading beneath their species' cold combat hormonal and neurological systems.

“I’ll get you both to the ship,” Jarys insisted sword pointed back to the Hecate

To the South the Ailon Six, Lysan and Coryn staggering behind a wall of Kekta bodies they had used as mobile cover peered out to see Karintha’s Oblivion short swords dicing Ketka apart, savage fast blows interspersed with tortuous Malacia attacks that sent more distant groups of Ketka writhing as their already radically modified adrenaline systems were stimulated by the aether to go into complete overdrive producing hormones at three times the rate their muscles could absorb making it hit toxic levels.

“Karintha,” Kisaea whispered, astonished to see a woman she was sure had died leading their rescue.

“KARINTHA!” Kisaea yelled as if a battle cry rushing to join her in the attack on the tractor beam.

The four Ketka that had Sofa surrounded vanished in a single blast of kinetic energy as Valens landed on the battlefield to the north, with arrogant disdain for the imperfect Outsiders he loosed six arrows into twice that many heads, controlling them still as his sword appeared as if from nowhere in his hand to skewer a Ketka charging him. 

Three more were blasted or cut down before he reached his wife, wrapping his spare arm round her while the other blasted three Ketka with a torrent of lightning.

<About time,> Sofa complained with faux exasperation
He chuckled under his helmet as he let her go.
<We’re here to relieve you, head back to the Hecate we’ll deal with the Tractor beams> he informed the towering giants of the Remnant just behind Sofa.

Overhead Taryn wove through the skies, finger itching on the trigger for just the right moment, Xani, Lya and Selaena covering for him and taking gratuitous shots into the Kekta soldiers on the ground where they could.

Turbo-cannons bounced off the Tri-Repulsor shields of the fighter as he narrowed in on the Tractor beam - they had positioned it damn well, between a rocky outcrop and the miner dormitories, just enough line of sight to the Hecate to keep it down, but far enough and small enough to avoid getting shot at.

With a spinning twist he zeroed on and fired his two Shikkar torpedoes, gripping the ultradense missiles with his mind and winding them into the tractor beam.  The bore tips of the tropeoes shredded it into flakes of hissing metal as he triggered the proton bomb cores.

160 Kekta guarding the tractor beam were evaporated in their armour, an explosion that competed with those in orbit for luminosity as the Four Aethan Destroyers hammered the Hutt vessels in geosynchronous orbit seeking out the two interdictors.

Guided by Ari and Mili’s bond they had come out of Hyperspace dangerously close to the planet just behind the Ketka, the fighters leaping out to the surface as the Destroyers blasted the Ketka ships from behind.

Four ships fell quickly, but the rest turned about swiftly.  Green Turbo laser and Red Mega Maser fire was traded in the silent void as the Aethan ships stayed in a loose formation, just enough to ensure overlapping fields of fire to concentrate their blasts on two enemy vessels at a time, even then it took precious minutes to overwhelm the ketka shields.

The counter fire was already softening their shields, the Aethenaea started taking hits, Melron in command of the Persephaea in the lead grumbling as he fired a steady stream of mega maser fire into a frigate that was charging for a micro jump to escape.

“Allow me to board the enemy vessel! I will turn it to a Riix hound in Nerf hide!” Maekal demanded

“You just keep moving those bombs,” Melron shot the overconfident boy down, at least he didn’t think he could do it all on his own - but after the battering from the Cataphracts none were in any condition to be boarding a Ketka ship.

A fact Milaea was now noticing as they sprinted back, Jarys was slow, twitchy, the burst of energy from his arrival had worn out quickly, Ari too was less than half her usual stamina.

<Goddesses what happened?!> Milaea asked as they dodged fire from Ketka swoop bikes, hurling their sabers back into the machines where they could, Jarys taking a few shots with his rifle - but pausing to crouch and fire rather than on the run as he normally would.   

<It can wait, we need to go,>

The Ketka had not stopped coming - fresh troops re-enforced the remaining tractor beams while handfuls of survivors from the other conflict zones swarmed the Hecate seemingly determined to physically pull it to the earth. 

Arryn’s total control and the 30 meter levitation of the Hecate allowed him to use the underside point defence turret to blast the Ketka he could out of existence, but more were climbing the vast cranes trying to leap on board. 

With a satisfied exhalation Karintha hurled the third tractor beam into its own generator, the explosion washing red heat over them as the Aethans started running back without pause.  The red haze of limited function that flashed in her somatosensory cortices reminded her none of the People were recovered from Galtea, least of all her.

But as the eyes of the latest Aethan survivors looked to her for leadership she made sure to present Matriarchal staunchness in her half run half fight back.

<I need something to work with> Valens demanded, only Fifth and Ninth remained with him, the rest with Sofa in a fighting retreat to the Hecate.

<Gimme a sec!> Taryn complained, it was getting damn hot on this night cooling planet as Ketka fighters seemed to spring from the damn rocks.  He was out of torpedoes anyway.

<Xani give him a hand,>

The Youngest Aethan had by now flown dozens of missions in the Vhal’Dan war, the only difference here was the sheer number of enemy fighters…oh and they were a lot tougher!

<Can you cover me?> She asked her Aunty Sel, she hardly needed to but it seemed nicer to ask.

Spinning through the flak blasts Selaena covered her rear as Xani banked hard port and pivoted down to fire off a torpedo guiding it with her mind until Valens grasped it. 

All the Ketka’s attention on him, and without programming that considered telekinetic control of large projectiles at high speed a possibility Valens easily guided the torpedo into the Beam destroying the last tether on the Hecate snapping off more arrows to cover his retreat. 

The entire site was lousy with Ketka, every Aethan group slowed by the sheer mass of bodies that covered the ground.

In orbit the situation was no better - Jenaea was twisting the Aertemsisaea onto its side to shield the battered Aethenaea, Kassyndra turning the Aephrodaea about to keep the Persephaea from being flanked.   

<Gonna have to do a pick up,> Taryn realised, there was no way those on foot could get to the Hecate and jump up in time, and they couldn’t fly back up to the destroyers through the extra Ketka fighters coming after them.

On hard descents the fighters fired into the mass of Ketka bodies, most had reflexes too swift to be hit, but it served to clear the area around the Aethans.  Slamming on the repulsors that whined to go from 40 to 120 per cent in an instant they bumped barely five meters above the ground, coming up behind the others.

Ari and Milaea leapt first as Jarys shouldered Ketka aside, landing on the left wing of Lyaea’s fighter, further South Selaena's was nearly overloaded a eight Aethan leapt on under heavy fire from the Ketka, Taraea and Davys unable to fit on held up by the others. 

Three enormous bangs hammered Taryn's hull as more jumped on,

<Frell me where’d the Aethan Sasquatch come from!> he blurted seeing a Remnant for the first time.

Third glared at the Pirate briefly before reaching out to help pull Sofa up with a kinetic assist.

Arryn quickly opened the lower hangar blast doors to allow the overladen fighters in while keeping pressure on the Ketka above and below with the point defence cannons - the Hecate had started with 36, carefully placed along the triangular ships edge and hull for optimal overlapping fire. 

The ravages of Ketka fighters had reduced them to 17, the rest sparking wrecks leaving him struggling to overwhelm the Kekta fighters' shields even if he could track them. 

The first Vorynx fighters slammed into the hangar as the Hecate pivoted upward, time was running out as the Kekta fighters concentrated on the engines - rear shields held against the concussion missiles well enough , the blizzard of Laser fire was another matter, the stream so constant power had to be cut from weapons into the shields to shore them up. 

Scraping along the deck, Sofa rolled off Taryns fighter, the pirate leaping out of the cockpit an instant later and grabbing the former Jedi.

“Give me a hand with this,” he kicked a hatch on the underside of his fighter open exposing the red hot micro-ionization reactor

“Mynock dren crazy bastard, you’re not serious!” she snapped
“Dead Kekta serious,” he smiled testing the release, Sofa mirroring him on the other side, the enormous weight of the reactor a struggle for even two Aethans, the heat bleeding through the spherical shielded core as they dragged it toward the entrance in the floor.

“Let us,” Seventh insisted, taking over from Taryn, the giant Aethan with Six more easily lifting it knowing exactly what he intended.

As the Hecate passed over Valens, last on the ground, they tossed the reactor out, the Warchief leaping out of a scrum of Ketka absent half his armour, he switched to his bow as he passed it on the way up, Ari and Milaea’s purple-red wispy energy levitating him faster.

Quickly notching and drawing he zeroed the Rector with his arrow as it slammed in the midst of the diving ketka.  Then loosed.

A white hot flare erupted from the punctured micro-star that powered their fighters, the enormously expensive chiss micro reactor spilling its nuclear reaction across and into the ground as Ninth grabbed and lifted Valens to the deck, Arryn hamemring the acceleration to get the ship away from a hundred meter wide blazing sphere of energy that flickered and bubbled until its energy was expended outward instead of being reflected within its protection shell as was intended.

Over a hundred more Ketka were disintegrated, a massive crater of brittle glass left in the world's surface, energy eating down deep to mine shafts beneath.

It was mirrored moments later in orbit as Evyn and Evaea’s efforts in the Nexus unwinding their own stealth skills to find the interdictors finally succeeded, Maekal guiding his two Chiss Thermo-nuclear torpedoes into the vessels.

Blue-white cores of atomic fire cracked shield and immolated hulls, the Ketka having learned from the experience at Teta had their ships widely spaced enough to ensure only four other ships were impacted in a meaningful way as the Aethan Destroyers quickly pivoted to make a jump to hyperspace, the Hecate about to follow.

There was neither time nor firepower to get past the planet's gravity well and the Ketka blockade, with all the precision calculus his hears hooked to machines had painfully gifted him Arryn calculated the dangerous in gravity micro jump and pushed.

The Entire ship shuddered, even the Remnant knocked off their feet, the blackstone hull creaked and tore along weakened fissures cut by the Ketka fighters, Arryn sealed off sections, overloaded shields and breathed a massive sigh of relief when they dropped out between Providence and the next planet in the system. 

It would be mere minutes before the Ketka followed, Karintha skidded in beside the relative stranger to her, leaning over to input rendezvous coordinates.

“Will the ship survive this jump?”

“Not without damage,” he replied

It would have to do.

Pink, blue and green stars twisted into the tunnel of hyperspace as they fled deeper into the core.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 28, 2022, 04:43:04 AM
Chapter 53 — Conflagration — Intractable — Part 2
“By the Force…” Knight Suratos gasped as they stood in the cavernous belly of the Glory of Prakith the midday sun streaming in where the hull had been torn off.

The entire area around the ship was a charnel house of Ketka and Prakith bodies.  The other Knights of Vigilance were searching among the corpses, a few into the mines, but as yet no aetherian bodies had been found, only tantalizing pieces of their fallen weapons and armour.

Against that disappointment stood two monoliths of Terror.

The Blackstone Obelisks had hooks and belts attached ready to be lifted but clearly they had arrived in time to prevent that, for that Tnbu was thankful.

“...What do you think these things do?” Suratos asked further, tentatively stepping toward the malign things then away again, even jumping from the shadow of the noxious things. 

Their height and dense gravity made Tnbu sway slightly, as Sullustan he was used to being surrounded by thick homely rock, but this was something indescribably evil.  He could not imagine the effect the full set of nine - based on the seven empty cradles - would have on a decent sane sentient.

“Evil most profound,” Tnbu replied wondering whether they should be studied or destroyed.

He settled on destroy.

[You are costing me dearly Jedi] came the Hutts voice from behind.  The Flesh crafter was of course on the Dreadnought at the edge of the system, a Six Honour Guard of Ketka carried with near religious reverence projectors to generate a life size Holo of the Hutt.

Tnbu seriously doubted that - the Flesh Crafters had millions of Ketka, hundreds of thousands of ships and could breed the three and half thousand lost so far in months.

[Still, you found the morsels - I offer you one of these curios as a gift] the Hutt gestured to the Obelisks.

Tnbu remained silent at the Hutts assumption the Obelisks were his dispose of, yet it was one that could not be denied, the filthy Flesh Crafter had no respect for Tnbu’s august rank as a Jedi and had more than enough Ketka to do as he pleased.

[It shall make a good centerpiece for a new garden on Pybus…] the Hutt mused

Tnbu stiffened

[A jest] the Hutt reassured

“They should be hurled into the nearest star,”

[If you can lift it yourself, feel free to] the Hutt chuckled wetly indicating he would not use Ketka resources to help Tnbu move his ‘share’

The Sullustan increasingly realised he had chosen his ‘allies’ very poorly indeed.

<<<<>>>>

Ygmir Giant
“...I recognise my errors and will not repeat them,” the gruff bloody and bruised face stared at the floor, broken vibro claws still on his hands

The Matriarch stood over Lysan and the other newly recovered People - the far easier of the latest Aethans to reintegrate - as they sought her blessing having shared the vast horror and few joys of their tales since the Devastation with her.
In the case of Lysan he sought forgiveness for not believing Milaea and Sofa - a serious transgression, but circumstances were against him.

Indentured to the Ailon, escaping, waging a one man war against Outsiders, encased in carbonite, escaping once more into a galaxy of confusion and chaos, confronted with two women he had never seen claiming authority, his suspicions were completely rational.

Flickering Lighting across his body Karintha spoke her tone firm.

“I accept the sincerity of your apology, a misunderstanding resulting from suspicion of Outsider interference. You will apologise to Sofa and Milaea…”  she shifted to a more consoling voice
“...then you may join your family,”
“Goddesses Mercy upon me, thank you Matriarch,” he snapped his head to the floor then moved faster than if a Vorynx were chasing him.

“Cousin, Matriarch, We are sorry we doubted…” Kisaea said next 
Karintha dismissed it
“This galaxy if replete with illusions and insanity propagated by the outsiders,” she stepped forward to raise her cousin up into an embrace

“We are all thankful you have survived and returned to Us…Mysaea, Jadyn and Korys too will not be forgotten, the Ailon will pay dearly for their deaths,” Karinthas voice darkened considerably, there was much vengeance to be had one day - at the moment they were barely surviving.

The Hecate bounced again as it passed another novae in hyperspace, the damage was not irreparable, but it was widespread and reduced the ships functionality by a third.

Now she turned to Coryn, his face familiar and strange at once, the young teen a young man now, half healed scars on his face and tragic longing in his heart.

“Is it true…is…” he said in a whisper
“Yorna is alive, you will see her soon,” Karintha soothed

“I couldn’t save…Ilnaea…I was too late…” he added bitterly

“Alone, with so little you could have done no more, and you enacted proper vengeance…” she parted from him contemplative

“Now let us join the others,” she gestured for them to rise from the furniture less cramped war room.

“Coryn one more thing,” she caught him alone

“...we need to speak further regarding this Jedi and Anzat you encountered in Wild Space past the Xoxaan Temporal Anomaly…for now speak to no one else of it”

While she would need to confirm with holo’s when the chance arose she suspected he had encountered Kazic Ovarug and Jedi Master Soryu from some years in the future by virtue of the Temporal anomaly.

It was a distraction Milaea and Ari did not need, heading to the Nature Deck, largely bereft given the Hecate had barely been finished, they passed the door to the cabin where the girls were ‘catching up’.

Sitting opposite each other, legs entwined, hands held on the cabin bed, Milaea and Ari had not stopped touching in some way since reaching the ship.

“I’m sorry I should have listened, you were right about everything,” Ari half pleaded
“So many died, Saani did die for a few moments…and Kazic…as soon as Anson was defeated he told us to leave, he used us…he used me...”

Milaea couldn’t bear to see her love so hurt, nor conceal her own regrets.

“I should’ve gone with you, I could’ve helped in so many ways…” she replied squeezing Ari’s hands

Ari shook her head, recalling what her mothers advice not to waste a moment at odds or apart, the last few days had proven how fragile the demi-goddesses both were, how fleeting their lives might be.

“It doesn’t matter any more, all that matters is we’re finally together and I never want to be apart again,”  she leaned forward for their 38th kiss.

Were they not exhausted and on a damaged ship retreating into the Deep Core from the Hutt Flesh crafters unstoppable force of Pure Warriors the kiss and gentle touches would’ve led to a far deeper physical exploration of their feelings. 

For now conserving energy to survive the inevitable next fight was more important. 

Falling together on to the bed the couple entwined themselves as much as possible, idle sensing the others moving about the ship toward the Nature deck - deep inside the Hecate it was undamaged.

“Should we join them?” Ari asked

Milaea sighed, finally resolving a tension she’d held too too long with a firm decision.

“Karintha is Matriarch, I trust her to handle it,”

That surprised Ari, of course Milaea had not opposed Karintha actively but there had always been an undercurrent of disagreement and the potential that Milaea might challenge if Karintha went too far in her more hawkish direction.

“After Dathomir, Galtea…and now this…Karintha knows how few and fragile we are, she won’t ever put punishing outsiders above rebuilding the People, and I…” she stroked Ari’s face
“I want to finally stop fighting and running and just live with you,”

Ari pulled closer - it was all she wanted too.

<<<<>>>>

He could not believe his own senses as he curled his wife’s hair round his fingers, Selaena’s face cracking with emotion to feel her husbands touch once more, Lyaea painfully gripping Xani’s hand as Taryn anxiously waited to meet his girls father, smoothing out the rough flight suit for no logical reason given they were all looking as filthy as a Falleen after a death stick binge.

Lynaea, Lysans cousin, was with them, across the large empty planters where one day foliage from their home would be planted to accompany them on trips across the stars, Jarys spoke with Davys and Daryn, Varan and Taraea quipped with Sofa and Valens.  Kisaea and Coryn talked in hushed tones with Karintha before the doors opened to admit the vast forms of the Remnant, Ninth as always at the head.

The People formed quickly into a chevron, Karintha at the tip flanked by her Warchief Valens and First Brave Jarys, only Arryn absent piloting the Hecate, and Milaea and Aresaea whom Karintha was glad had finally admitted their feeling to each other, and inferred their absence meant Milaea’s final confirmation of Karintha as Matriarch without question.

Ninth finished her march barely an inch from Karintha her sheer size failing to intimidate.

“Sofa has advised me of everything that has transpired…and your origin,” Karintha began
“I’m impressed by what you’ve made of Prakith, entire Legions and Fleets -They will make an excellent buffer state between Aethas and the Republic once the Ketka are dealt with,”

“You presume we will maintain control over them, and you will control us,” Ninth noted coldly

Karintha smiled confidently.

“I know you are driven by this Purgatio Astra instinct, I sympathize with its principles.  People and Outsiders can never live peacefully, Outsiders have dealt us too many wounds and are too rapacious for our bodies and souls for that,”

Sofa winced slightly at the blatant one sided view of history her Matriarch held.

“But one glance at our memories of Galtea, the recent battle against the Ketka all prove your mission is impossible to accomplish for the foreseeable future.  Both Vhal’Dan and Flesh crafters have shown there are powers well beyond our own operating in the Galaxy who can crush at with a glance.”

“You imply we should abandon it?” Ninth leaned forward, her physical bulk towering over the Matriarch.  Karintha knew her shrewd skills in managing People were far larger than the tactically ingenious but strategically blunt Remnant.

“I propose you achieve your goal across the span of centuries rather than decades.  Prakith could’ve conquered Teta, with the additional resources, a few core systems, but more than that before the Republic responded? I doubt it.  You would have to retreat and start elsewhere, a far more perfect solution is to rejoin the People fully.”

She gestured to her two greatest warriors.

“My Warchief and First Brave, hardened veterans, victors over the Triarch of the Cataphracts and Kage of the Vhal’Dan, dozens of Jedi, hundreds of pirates and mercenaries, just now two score Ketka each - how much more successful will you be with alegion of men like these backed by covens of witches as powerful as Milaea.

Of course not all our People are so strong, but that was the Technocracies goal - to perfect our species to universally be that strong and more then claim the stars we desired.  Cleansing the Stars is pointless without the People to claim them once empty. 

Join with us as our Verndari, Protectors, first defence of a unified Aethan People, as we will rebuild using Prakith, the Chiss and Vong as tools. Then with fleets of the most advanced ships, billions of Vong soldiers, hundreds of Obelisks arrays and Aether power beyond the Celestials launch a single comprehensive strike on every major civilization across the galaxy simultaneously.”

The Xenophobic, Geonicidal scope of Karintha’s speech sickened Sofa to the core. 

Images flashed across the group mind of Naqxuim bombs, Arryns vicious invention, detonating above thousands of cities at the same instant, the Republic rendered a husk in a day, Dovin basals planted decades before coming to maturity dragging moons and asteroids inexplicably to planet surfaces in Hutt space, Legions of Prakith armed in modified Chiss-Ailon Armour descending on far flung worlds of the Unknown regions beneath the Crusading Banner of the Shadow Lords, Triquetra tattooed Vong hunting through ruins for the last survivors.

Karintha was truly convincing, there was no finer master of illusionary magicka among the People, and this was her masterpiece.  How much was true and how much was fantasy impossible to tell.

The Matriarch needed to convince the Remnant that in some far flung century this could be achieved, and meanwhile work out a way to use the memory rewriting abilities - already used to suppress so much trauma and eliminate unwanted traits in Taryn, Maekal, Oran, Nyaea and others - on the Remnant themselves.

Karintha was buying time by the decade

Ninth’s emotionless tactical mind analysed probabilities with the vast new data acquired over the last few days, determining what course of action would most efficiently achieve Purgatio Astra.

In the absence of any further substantive information Karintha’s proposal was the most optimal.

“We agree to serve along side you Tribals so long as you expedite as far as practical Purgatio Astra,”

That was far easier than Karintha had thought, now she only needed to twist their minds when the opportunity presented itself. 

“Good, now we must merely deal with this Hutt and his Jedi friend,” Karintha said turning the conversation to the imminent danger

“The Flesh Crafter will not give up the hunt,” Jarys said grimly
“And they have near limitless soldiers,”
“Surely they can’t track us back to Aethas?” Kisaea inquired
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Varan ever the voice of doubt replied
“Plus They can afford probes by the trillion to find us,”

“I already have a plan for dealing with them, I need only to speak to the Flesh crafters themselves,” Karintha said

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 28, 2022, 04:44:21 AM
Chapter 53 — Conflagration — Intractable — Part 3
The vast pink-grey Ygmir giant was the most dangerous hazard on the Byss run, pulses from the dying star forced vessels to take long detours around it.

To place one's ship within the glittering pink halo of its radiation and gas clouds was either comically suicidal or ingeniously strategic.

The Flesh Crafter could not decide which as he detected his bounty in the cloud of hydrogen isotopes peppered with uranium particles from a mass ejection.

The vast black ship sat in the midst seemingly indifferent, the dozens of tracking devices his Ketka had attached floating around it.  

Hundreds of Ketka vessels arrayed themselves at the edge of the cloud awaiting his order to enter.  The Blackstone ultradense hull of the Hecate could keep the eroding cloud at bay for several hours, the Ketka ships more conventional doonium perhaps a third of that time.

The Black ship sat just out range, but the Hutt had no qualms about sacrificing a few hundred vessels to the great Ygmir. More interestingly he could not detect the four ‘smaller’ vessels.

Rising from his mud bath his attendants began to pad off the delicious oozy coarse skin treatment, blobs of dead skin the rough texture had cleared off floating on the surface as he slid out over the tiles.

How he tired of this…with a resigned sigh he gave the order to advance, dozens of ships led by three Kapa Teesaw, medium cruisers, entered the Ygmir Halo.

<<<<>>>>

They had chosen their battlefield well.  As much as he hat…n…no a Jedi did not Hate…as much as Tnbu knew the Aetherians were depraved and beyond redemption, he never underestimate their marital ingenuity.

Bulbous Hutt ships shuddered as the Halo enveloped them, tabhatadi shields wavered to keep out the millions of high speed particles that would otherwise erode the vessels hull in an hour.

The white blue flare of a whasoka - Hutt frigate - exploding Tnbu feared the erosion might be much faster.

It was something far more desperate.  

Across their five destroyers the Aethans had 40 fighters and 20 Assault transports, 6 of the former they sacrified in suicide runs, annihilating two firagtes and a corvette before the Ketka deployed countermeasures, sacrificing their own Boarding Torpedoes and Fighters to screen the capital ships - the smaller vessels dying rapidly in Ygmirs noxious nova winds.

In the hour advance the Aethans had, they had laid all the traps they could, seeding Torpedoes floating among other debris, Jenaea and Kassyndra in the Aertemisaea Nexus grasping them as ships passed telekinetically and activating them.

Every Person was at work, Oran, Nyaea and Xani all projecting kinetic shields around their destroyers, the Blackstone hull responding to their desires to drastically slow the degradation from the Halo, Evyn and Evaea cloaking Transports that slid with boarding parties.

Mili and Ari clasped hands as they waited for the thud.  The Hutts wanted to board their ships - they would preempt them. Taran, Varan and Kisaea stood at the hatch in front of them, the former Varangian still bearing hideous scars from Galtea, but with the powerful Life drain witchcraft Lykana had infused him with proximity to the Ketka would soon change that.

<In Position> Kiraea spoke in their minds, her party with Coryn, Yorna, Taraea and Davys aiming for a Small Cruiser.

<Ditto> Taryns team was next, Maekal, Melron, Lynaea and Daryn with him.

<Here goes….> Sofa was less stoic in the face of danger, even backed by Lysan, Lydan, Selaena and Lyaea.

Ninth shifted behind Ari, the Aertemisaean’s bulk an uncomfortable reminder of Ksorallyne Apus, but at least on her side this time…for now.

<Hey, it’ll be ok,> Mili comforted squeezing her hand.
There were Five boarding teams, each with one of the new Verndari as the ultimate heavy support. The teams of six were lad by Kisaea, Kiraea, Taryn and Sofa, the fifth team consisted of just Valens, Jarys, Fourth and Third.
Ari squeezed back comforted.  

<NOW!> Evaea called out mentally at the hatch opened to a wall of doonium, the Twins having used their cloak of Shadow in addition to the Stygium cloaking system to get them right beside their target.

With a running leap they darted onto the side of the Ketka vessel, Taran and Ninth swiftly using their brute force to begin cutting the side of it open as Evaea peeled off.

There were dozens if not hundreds of Ketka on every vessel, those active and likely more in rank upon rank of Cryo tubes to transport them, they knew they couldn’t capture any of the Hutt vessels or wipe out the innumerable Ketka

The plan was more subtle.

In the Hecate Karintha stood in the center of the Seven Obelisks of the Remnants array spreading her hands to activate the powerful magnifier of her power.  She could not enact massive waves of death or teleportation like Milaea could, and the situation did not call for it.

The Flesh crafters were too numerous to be beaten, the Matriarch would use diplomacy and deterrents.

<In!> Jarys was unsurprisingly the first to breach the hull, boots stamping down and straight into the fire of the Ketka response party.

Compared to the sleek bulbous exterior the inside of the Ketka vessels was sparse and unadorned, a heavy sheet of doonium ripping free Taryn felt like he was on the Kyala again, the Space pirate noting the ships were built more like cargo ships that he had captured, ferrying the Hutt ‘Pure Warriors’ with absolutely no regard to their comfort and only the absolute minimum amenities.

<Ketka are hardly likely to complain,> Sofa quipped sensing his thoughts as she cut the first Pure warrior in two, Seleana firing sniper rounds over her shoulder, a counter charge of Ketka behind kinetic shields was met by a family advance, Lysan, Lydan and Lyaea rushing to meet them.

Sofa finally saw where Lydan and Lyaea got their more overt viciouness from compared to the ‘behind the action’ mutiliation and murder style of Selaena - Lysan rushed stright into the front rank without fear or concern, the Ketka rasiing their shields, he just rolled over them into the scrum trusting his children to free him momentarily by cutting the bodies apart.

They didn’t disappoint, arrows, naginata and blasts of lighting taking the Ketka two at a time.

Ari swept under Ninths legs stabbing both sabers up into a Ketka then rolling aside to let Milaea through, her own purple blade slicing the next one.  Ninth then stepped over the pair to slam her enormous Shatter sword clean through the skull and half the torso of the next as they carved a bloody path through, Kisaea on the right flank leading them, Taran and Varan an impenetrable defence on their rear.  

<Two tagged> Taryn said as Lynaea jumped back from a Ketka Maekal had pinned, the brash youth then over acting to allw the Ketka free to return to its comrades, behind them Melron hurling Ketka suciide bombers back into their ranks with the aether, Seventh in their midst Hades repeater shredding helmets to slag with a constant thump of fire in Taryns ear.

<Four> Jarys noted idly as he and his Brother stood back to back in what appeared some kind of disturbing ‘mess hall’ equivalent where Ketka were placed in booths and simply injected with nutrients into their stomachs - bodily wastes sucked out by nasty looking tubes that seemed to feed into the same vat.

They were surrounded now by ‘naked’ Ketka, though much of the body beneath armour was metal cybernetics anyway, more arriving as they kept their blows contained before Third and Fourth crashed into slaughter and secure the escape route.

<It’s not a competition,> Kiraea noted, completely out of character for her, Sofa raising a brow even on a distant vessel ducking under blaster bolts.

<Anyway I’m winning, Nine!> she finished twisting down from the pipe covered ceiling to hurl a shikkar with one hand and launch a glowing rune with the other - the first skewered a threat, the second hit an exposed patch of Klatoonian skin before Kiraea swept back behind Davys and Fifth.

Now it was time.  Drawing a small amount of the aether from the whole of People Karintha poured lighting into the Obelisks activating their communicative capabilities focusing on one of the few Souls among the Hutt ships not a bland blank half sentient thing.

A flare of blue appeared before him, not of a hologram but something more ancient the Flesh crafter paused in his ablutions.

[Aaaah…what is this marvel] he drooled as a woman appeared before him, attractive for a human he supposed, too few mammaries and too much hair for his liking.  

“We wish to propose a deal,” she spoke as Coryn and Yorna reached the frost encrusted ranks of Ketka waiting for activation, Coryn covering her firing crossbow bolts with uncanny precision into the Ketka CPU deep in their brain stems as Yorna crafted her Runes on the statis bound Ketka

The Hutt took his time slithering to his divan leaning back knowing beyond any doubt now - he had them cornered.

“Don’t be so certain,” Karintha warned in response to his thoughts.

[Nothing is certain…but usually when one wants to talk it is because one knows they can’t fight]

She didn’t argue the point, going straight to the bargaining.

“We took some valuable bio samples from you, We believe that and such a public destruction of your facility on Rorak are the cause for your seeking retribution - not the loss of Ketka and structures such things are meaningless to one as wealthy as you, but the reputational damage of being attacked openly…rather than waste both our time and resources on a conflict that will have no satisfactory ending we are willing instead to offer you compensation for your losses.”

[You think our wrath can be allayed with credits, our wounded pride healed with slaves] the Hutt grinned through thick mucus covered lips

“You are a Hutt,” Karintha replied simply.

<Getting too hot in here> Taryn grunted his shoulder giving out as he clutched the still sensitive hole the Cataprhacts had gouged in his abdomen only partially healed, Maekal ravenously ripping a Ketka head from a neck only to be bashed by termor swords to the ground whimpering.

Taryn gave Seventh a quick nod and the massive Verndari acted as the Protector he had agreed to be, smashing through the Ketka, giving Lynaea a chance to tag a few more, before hefting up Maekal effortlessly and pulling him out, Daryn and Melron already cutting an exit through bodies.

<We got 15, get us out silky> Taryn called Evaea for extraction.

[So I am.] The Hutts chuckle was of confidence and leering victory as he saw the enemies borders repelled on two ships, another suicide bomber fighter wiping out a whasoka - as if such ships mattered to him.

[Tell me your offer so I might be amused]

“The former samples you held will not be returned or replaced with equivalents, instead we can provide something far better - samples of Extragalactic species,” Karintha explained

[Extragalactic? Pleading and writhing to escape your fate is amusing, buffoonery is not]

“No jest. I’m sure you heard talk that Vigo Xithar of the Black Sun once possessed very unique specimens he was experimenting on - these have fallen into our hands since his timely demise,”

Whoever she was, she was well informed, but it could easily be a bluff, she had much to gain and nothing to lose.

“I concede there can be no proof their origin isn’t some far flung system in the Unknown Regions, but it doesn’t matter, the uniqueness of the physiology will please you.”

She was taking a big risk.  The Yuuzhan Vong that revered the Aethans were a critical and unique asset, sharing their biotech with the Flesh Crafters risked spreading it across the galaxy.  

But it was an advantage only until the Vong fleet arrived in who knew how many centuries.

Karintha had to trust the Flesh crafters reputation for not sharing their heinous knowledge and reserving their very best soldiers and technology for protecting the Bootana Hutta Throne Worlds.  

If the Flesh crafters acted in their typical fashion they would do whatever perverse experiments they liked on the Vong, enhance their Ketka and devise some bio weapons or the like then continue on as normal with their strange isolation.  

[Will it…]

The Hutt pondered drawing out the time well aware Karintha wanted to speed it up.

<Retreating> Jarys quickly snapped along with a Ketka arm, two tremor swords sticking out his side, mercifully Valens had had ensured not got near his still vulnerable neck.

<We’re getting out too> Yorna affirmed yellow blasts of energy slamming tagged Ketka down for her and Coryn to run past, Taraea and Davys barely holding the bulkhead as Fifth began ripping a hole in the hull, Kiraea sweeping from the ceiling pipes with Volurk like grace every few second to keep the Ketka off him. .

[...But then I should have to renege on my promise to the Jedi.  They say that is bad luck.] the Hutt mused, data coming through showed the desperation of their retreat.  More of the Blackstone ships were taking hits from his suicide boarding torpedoes, their eldritch shields slowly fading.

“And what have the Jedi offered you in exchange for your vast resources, and Time away from the bosom of the Bootana Hutta?” Karintha countered, her fingers never ceased writing careful runes in the air with the aether that glowed just out of the Hutts sight.

[Little,] The Hutt admitted
[Still I can hardly send them back to Coruscant thinking the Pohna Kakea do not fulfil their promises]

“They may not all survive the next battle,” Karintha suggested

<We’re getting slammed here!> Sofa snapped, Sixth was already carrying Lyaea and Lysan who had taken a barrage of auto-cannon fire to the knees by vent scuttling ketka, Lydan heaving with his Naginata only recently repaired fractured once more.

Karintha pressed on trusting the Verndari to serve as a bulwark against the Ketka ensuring the others escaped.

“Except two Jedi - one to tell the tale of a foolish expedition to the deep core gone horribly wrong, the other to rave madly to add credence,”

The Hutt grinned, he could have his Jedi and potentially new morsels too.

[Before even considering such a deal, I would need to see a sample of these wares] he warned

“Any moment now you will,”

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on March 28, 2022, 04:45:47 AM
Chapter 53 — Conflagration — Intractable — Part 4

Shields overloaded, hull breached Boarding Torpedoes suiciding into it, the Ciy’Keueketka breached the Persephaea, Adaea the only Aethan on board the 300 meter vessel.

She stood on the nature deck defiant waiting for them to come, for though she was the only Person, she was not alone.

Orange sparks burst along the seams as the door was cut open, the Phirk falling with a thud blaster fire coming through instantly over the top of the Tremor sword and shield wielding Ketka.

Barely had they stepped foot inside when they found they could no longer move - the blorash jelly pinning their feet as Adaea drew her bow and loosed three arrows to the cry.

Do-ro'ik vong pratte!”  two Vorynx pounced from the sides as twelve Yuuzhan Vong reared up throwing thud bugs and unleashing amphistaffs to snake along the ground that wound up Ketka legs and bit venom into their already noxious blood streams.

The Vorynx tore throats and limbs before concentrated fire and blades forced them back, but left enough gaps in the Ketka ranks for the Vong to get in with their lipless bloody grins ecstatic to be facing a new enemy.

Cybernetics eyes transmitting image to the Voy’Di’Cee Hutt Dreadnought went blank after flickering images of strange tattooed humanoids with skeletal faces wearing crustacean shell like armour wielding snakes.

For the Extolled it was an intoxicating fresh change after facing the Gray Jeedai.  Aboard every ship except the Hecate they revelled in facing new enemies protecting the Avatars of the Gods vessels. 

For the Warriors who, had they remained on the Fleet would have lived like their forebears another stale life training and sparring each other, it was akin to Yun-Yaaahnak, the Holy abode of Yun-Yammka where Warriors of Worth fought endlessly against the finest enemies revelling in Glory, rising chastised but renewed with each defeat.

The Ketka’s Tactical Programming and Psy-implantation was briefly stumped at the Vong’s uniqueness, the battle net disrupted by the Halo struggling to transmit information across the units allowing the thud bugs and amphistaffs to briefly overwhelm the first Ketka waves before localized neuro networks integrated the new enemy data more effectively.

The Ketka faced an enemy as relentless as themselves, the vong’s biot increasing strength and speed on par with the Ketka’s cybernetic and combat stimm implants, and genuine zeal in the Extolled gave them the edge over the servile mechanical Kekta.

[Perhaps you do not lie] the Hutt mused as Karintha heard the increasing panic as time dragged for her own boarding parties,Oran and Nya struggling to keep the kine shields around the ships protecting them from the eroding Halo of Ygmir.




<Coming back in!> Evyn piloting an overcrowded transport said as they bumped along in the harsh Halo, everyone on board worse for wear from the brief but crucial ‘boarding’ attempt.

<How many> Karintha asked quickly

<24> from Kiraea, <18> Valens, <17> Yorna, <Enngh 23…bitch> Sofa snorted Kiraea had beat her.

Only Kisaea’s team were left with a far more crucial role.  On a Kapa Teesaw - Large Cruiser - roughly in the middle of the Ketka fleet Ninth bashed skull after torso after skull to keep Milaea and Ari safe, Kisaea and Varan in tight formation firing Hades rifles with Ailon precision as Taran pinned a still struggling Ketka in front of the couple.

Hands held Milaea and Ari latched onto the Rune they had crafted onto the Ketka…then onto the dozens of others the People had planted on Ketka across the fleet to enact Karintha’s fiendish Curse.

Red and purple energies flowed around and through them as they linked the life energies in a chain.  Only those two together had the strength and skill to do this properly, and their bond now fully realized would make it all the easier.

“Do we have an agreement?” Karintha pressed as her Rune completed and she tensed with the power needed to project the curse across the vastness of space via astral projection.

[I cannot renege on my agreement with the Jedi…I must allow them the chance to hunt you personally…]

“They won’t come back,” Karintha said noting the word Them meant there need not be Ketka support.  With an effort as she felt Milaea and Ari’s joint power touch her own, a surge of tingling energy that gave her the final trigger to release the Hex.
 
[We shall see] the Hutt gargled as Karintha vanished dropping hard in the midst of the Obelisk array, the Hutt glowering as his Ketka were hit from behind by Taryn and Valens team relieving the Vong and Adaea on the Persephaea.

The witchcraft complete Taran hauled up the Ketka under his boot and threw it down the corridor past Kisaea, Ninth Shattersword cutting into the Hull to create an exit, the first gases streaming out into the void, Milaea and Ari turning their attention to throwing kine shields around the others and intermittently blasting Ketka back at the speed of sound into the others. 

Desperate and fast Evaea spun round transport ramp open, shielding behind hammered at the exit, Ninth without warning grabbing Taran and tossing him access the 50 meters into the ship, Kisaea following, then Varan, Ari hurled another wave of kinetic energy to unfoot half a dozen Ketka before leaping.

Milaea grabbed Ninth’s arm, the Aertemisaean almost recoiling at the touch, red energy covering her

“Let’s go,” Milaea insisted more elegantly, gliding them out on red fire wings.

<<<<>>>>

More fighting was all that awaited them on the Hecate .  Evaea skidded the ship across the deck, Taran and Ninth leaping out into the Ketka that had followed them in.

Every ship except the Aephroadaea and Aertemisaea had been boarded, all were now in ferocious fights to repel them.

Hundreds of Ketka Boarding Torpedoes had simply eroded in the Ygmir Halo, dozens had been shot down by Arryn’s precision co-ordination of the small Aethan fleet from his sealed cramped position beneath the bridge of the Hecate

The corrosive radiation and gases whorl had left the Ketka ships that reached the Aethan vessels stripped of shields and flaking away chunks of doonium, Arryn unable to capitalise as the Hades Mega-maser cannons fire was reduced to  third of its full potential by that very halo.

It left him with only projectile weapons of the point defence cannon phirk projectiles -  shorn of their energy coating - and Shikkar Torpedoes to send into the void to tear more flesh from the Hutt capital ships where he could, but overwhelmingly on the assault transports.

The Halo was destroying hundreds, his defensive fire dozens.

Scores were getting through.

The Hutt simply did not care how many thousands of Ketka needed to die to get what he wanted.  The Flesh Crafter had told Tnbu he had 10,000, and that was true of active Ketka. 

20,000 more were in the cramped Cryo stores on the larger vessels.

<I’m jumping!> Nyaea said panicked in the Aephrodaea, the ship was bleeding atmosphere and her Aether shield was gone, the girl alone apart from a dozen Vong couldn’t hold on anymore.

Karintha staggered up on the floor of the Obelisk array as Nyaea vanished out from between Ketka ships that now rounded on the Aertemisaea, launching hundreds of boarding pods.

On the Persephaea Valens and Jarys purged through the Ketka ranks that flooded in from cramped transports locked by nyal-steel grappling hooks to the hull, Third and Fourth moving on their flanks to cut the cords with their shatterswords, in a single instant the entire thirteen Ketka they were facing stopped, switched to ranged and and directed all fire at Third - Jarys and valens immediately took advantage slaying six in moments, but the bloody toll meant nothing, Third was blasted into the void, shatter sword falling from his hand, Fourth charged through the Ketka to grab at her comrade before the Halo gases at the Aegis armour apart.

Deeper in the ship Taryn, Melron and Adaea were the last one standing in the ruined nature deck, the Vong broken on the ground, Maekal in the hollow of a blasted garden bed covered in dirt, Seventh leg bleeding out over top of him.

Sofa cut through another troso on the Aethenaea back to back with Kiraea as they rushed to the bridge where Oran was holed up firing shots over the chairs at the Ketka who were trying to cut through the blast doors, Lydan and Coryn keeping Yorna covered as she used her tremendous ability to draw on the aether to hurl boarding torpedoes and assault transport back into the void, Fifth and Sixth dealing with those that got through - Selaena and Lyaea working crowd control so the two giants were not overwhelmed. 

<Arryn jump us all now> Karintha demanded

<They’ve doubled their interdictor fields and tractor beam strength, combined with the Halo and Ygmir itself we’d be torn apart - even a micro jump>

She clasped the door frame as she retched forth, searching for options to overwhelm an infinite foe. 

<They're on board!> Kassyndra hissed hurling bolts of lighting over Jenaea’s head, Maeson swinging into action Hades repeater eating through endless Ketka bodies.

It would require sacrifice but there was a way.

<Aresaea, Milaea get to the Array> Karintha ordered.

<I will see it done> Ninth responded first, Milaea sweeping up both her and Ari into her aura that seemed to slow time around her, but in fact made her move incredibly fast.

<I know what she wants me to do> Ari thought grimly as she smoothly slid her blades from another Ketka body then booster Evaea in her leap over three more so the assassin could come down hard behind them.

<But I’ll need one of them…> Ari added, Taran complying swiftly, the former Varagian slashing the arm rather than head of a Ketka, then grabbing and dragging it with him.

Milaea felt the deep seated worry, but knew not to argue the point.
It would hurt Ari, but she would survive, and more importantly Milaea was there to protect her, and Ninth to protect them all as they pushed out of the warzone the Hecate main hangar had become and into the corridors Arryn tracking their movement opening blast doors and sealing them behind to ensure they weren’t followed, Taran systematically slicing off more limbs of the Ketka to prevent it from fighting back.

The loss of so many bodies forced Evaea, Kisaea and Varan to abandon the hangar to the Ketka, vanishing into the service corriorids where the Ketka numbers could count from less.  Indifferent to their own losses or damage to the ship they started hurling grenades after them.

The Hecate began to shake violently from explosions within and more boarding cables and tractor beams latching without, the Flesh Crafter purring as he awaited the reeling in of his prizes to Tnbu’s vast irritation.

Leaping up a turbo lift shaft and skidding along the corridors they reached the vast doorway to the Array room where Karintha looked as if she’d been beaten by a Voursus.

She merely caught Ari’s eyes to communicate what was needed, Milaea sensed the approaching Kekta - despite Arryn’s efforts the Hecate interior was still far from finished making their progress easier.  She kissed and flowed a good half her remaining energy into Ari, Taran throwing the Ketka in before sealing the door.

Ninth took the center, Milaea the left, Karintha the right, Taran beside the outer door as the Ketka came to flank.

In the deep silence of the spent Array chamber Ari approached the most ‘energised’ of the quiet Obelisks.

While Ari was competent in many aether abilities, like all the others she had one skill she especially excelled at.

Tentatively used to pin Anson and his Sentinels on Galtea, truly enacted for the first time by pure instinct at the horror of what had been done to Myraea by Neuro-Saav Biotech, refined and strengthened by the time she used it on Ksorallyne Apus and now….

Her hands pressed the cold blackstone of the Obelisk that eagerly at the pure destruction energy Ari chained into it.  The Ketka limbless thrashed still alive by virtue of the otherwise toxic stimulants as she caught its pure ‘scent’ in the aether.

Arryn began fulfilling his role, remotely piloting the Aethan ships, and following in their wake, the Ketka vessels, as close to each other as possible, even the Aethan ultradense hulls were now starting to suffer under Ygmir’s halo, they had perhaps fifteen minutes before they began to rot - if they lasted that long against the Ketka.

Ari blocked out every dimming light of her People as they retreated, cowered or fell, the Verndari shouldering their immediate protection where they could behind massive bodies.

She even temporarily blocked the sense of Milaea just outside hurling red lighting into Ketka heads.

Ari felt the Ketka at her feet, even now trying to bite her leg, felt the similarity to all the others, let it flow into the obelisk, let that particular aura act as a guide on what to connect to, like the Array on Aeda it sought out those most similar life forces, the Klatoonian bade species of the Ketka and threaded them all together through the other Obelisks.

And like Kiraea had taught her Ari used her power to project death at length, charging the Obelisk, which served at the trunk connected to the thousands of Kekta roots, confirming at the last moment all those ships they had boarded earlier were out of range - the Flesh crafter not quite wasteful had drawn the damaged vessels back as soon as the Aethan boarding actions had ‘failed’.

She felt her entire whole at risk of slipping into the Obelisk, focusing herself in the warm depth of feelings for her mother, her People, her love. 

The antithesis of this, her raw anger for her treacherous father, the Flesh Crafters, the other Outsiders who had used the People became pure annihilating power that now flowed into the Obelisk.

Her eyes flickered pure white as purple energy boiled off her, tinged red from that donated by Milaea.

With a sharp exhale the Obelisk shattered.

Billions of micro fragments of Blackstone flaked into dust as Ari fell backward over the corpse of the Ketka as her destructive potential chained through every similar force presence to her prey.

It dissolved the fundamental bond between Flesh and Force that sustained both in the hollowed Ketka souls the Obelisk array had tapped, paltry as the connection was for the Pure Warriors - more carbon based machines than living forms - it was still essential for their survival.   

Bred from dozens of different lineages not all the Ketka were affected, but two thirds were, stopping dead still cybernetics whined with confusion as every cell in their bodies inexplicably seemed to surrender its will to live, bio chemical reactions continued for brief moments as pure reflex devoid of meaning before the biological components of the Flesh crafters creations ceased entirely.

The Hutt offered an expression of genuine shock as suddenly thousands of his Pure Warriors life tracker indicators turned yellow then red.

The Aethan and Vong counter struck hard and viciously.

Taran tore the remaining Kekta by the Array door apart with his bare hands, Maeson bashing them with his out-of-ammo repeater, Adaea rallied the Vong into merciless slaughter and trophy taking, Valens and Jarys hurling them to Fourth who elbowed them into the ground, a weary Taryn tag teaming with Evaea to cut more in two.

Arryn quickly boosted the sublights, directing his fire on the nearest tractor beam ships, the Ketka counter fire reduced to a third he managed to blast half away.

Milaea burst into the array room where Ari lay covered in grime, blood and blackstone dust, but alive, as the Hecate jumped to hyperspace.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 06, 2022, 06:47:57 PM
Once again we see how despite being genehanced Force demigods, the Aethans are still entirely susceptible to the Ketka's zerg rush tactics (and given a deadly combination of the Flesh Crafters' virtually limitless funds, resources, personnel, and desire for vengeance, they can use their numerical advantages to overwhelm).  This also goes for the blackstone destroyers: while being much more durable, even Oblivion materials succumb to stellar halos and coronal mass ejecta.

Nevertheless, by these circumstances the three Aethan factions--the Tribals, the Trinity+Ailon, and the Remnant--have consolidated under threat of the Ciy’Keueketka (and non-too-soon).  Again, superior tactics and strategy bend under the mass of attacking Ketka, the Aethan's original plans not surviving the conflagration of battle.  In this case, it takes (and I mean this as an unmitigated compliment as there has been PLENTY of foreshadowing + earlier use of  :)) a literal Deus ex machina in the form of Ari and the Obelisk Array.  While her first two tries at manifesting her eldritch power were done entirely by instinct, this Ari is older, wiser, more experienced...but I think that the most important fact is that she's finally admitted (and reciprocated) that she and Mili love one another.  It's as inspiring and heartwarming as it is terrible, the raw, primal fury of a demigoddess in the flesh.

Another wonderful scene: our "noble" Jedi Tnbu is skirting VERY closely to the Dark Side, regardless of motivations.  Something about "roads," and "hell," and "bad intentions..."  ;)  But the fact remains: he is more an agent of the Hutts than the Jedi; although, as we've already seen, the orthodoxy of the Order has been anything but honorable, much less laudable (consider the cover up of Sofa's horrible experiences at the hands of one of the venerable masters... I, for one, certainly cannot fault Valens his actions in that event...).  Time will tell if Tnbu can avoid the traps inherent in serving two masters.

Points to Karintha in her now-confirmed role as Matriarch with adding "Diplomacy" as another powerset to be exploited (not to mention turning Hutt treachery on itself).

Meta-note: VERY AWESOME scene where Ari just lets loose  :D  After what she experienced with Anson and then her losing Myraea...yeah, I can see just WHY she would tap into that power^^  Now I see exactly what LSG was alluding to when he'd asked me to include "Ari's Power-Up" during CH.32, Part IV (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=44181.msg792572#msg792572 (http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=44181.msg792572#msg792572)).

Props to LSG for incredible planning!


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 07, 2022, 12:57:52 AM
Chapter 54 — Conflagration — Insurrection — Part 1
Tnbu

“This is unacceptable!” the Sullustans high pitched voice reached near inaudible levels of whistling as he fumed

“Twice your attempts to capture their vessels have allowed the Abominations a chance to escape!”

Tiny thought Tnbu was he loomed as large as he could over the Flesh Crafter whose large glassy eyes simply blinked indifferently.

Tnbu stabbed a pointed finger at the oiled Hutt
“You are undermining our agreement,”

[As I recall] the Hutt gargled calmly
[Our arrangement was simply to bring Pure Warriors if you located the Aetherians…the Pohna Kaeka never made any agreement on what those Warriors would do…]

Tnbu should have known not to trust a Hutt as far as he could throw one, but what choice did he have against the anathema of the Aetherians when the Council would not believe they even lived!

[We have suffered many losses, it is fitting we receive some spoils as compensation,] The Hutt went on Justifying his plodding.

“Losses,” Tnbu bristled
“You have millions of Ketka, they are meaningless,”

[Strange a Jedi should value life so lightly] the Hutt purred at the irony

Tnbu straightened calming himself of his frustrations as best he could, in one way the Hutt had a point, more fundamentally the Ketka were hardly ‘alive’ in any meaningful way.

“We cannot allow them to escape alive again,” the Sullustan insisted.

[One might almost suspect you of hating them, Jedi] the Hutt mused leaning back on his fluid soaked sofa

“Jedi do not hate, but we do insist on Justice and Order,”

[Then take your Justice yourself,] was the fob off reply

[My Pure Warriors corpses Tracking beacons are already being received, soon you can face your enemy yourself and deal with them as you see fit…I will ensure they do not escape again,]

The Flesh crafter was well aware that would cost thousands more Pure Warriors, the Aetherians sorcery was remarkably effective and something he could not compensate for strategically - overwhelming force remained the safest course.

“I will prepare my Knights immediately,” Tnbu whistled low, turning away, feeling ever more deeply regret at his ‘choice’ of ally.

<<<<>>>>

Reeda
Clarity shuddered as it came out of dark space.

The Ro'ik chuun m'arh, a frigate analog bred from the husk of the long-range reconnaissance ship Eversight that had brought them to this galaxy ahead of the main fleet with a rare mutant Dovin Basal had been performing practice runs through Aethas and the near systems, the living vessels acclimatizing to space and learning to traverse the stars as a Chazrach might learn to walk in the first few hours after hatching.

Reeda Kwn gently stroked the bulbous controls, looking back to Nerak who lay in the pilot cradle, face obscured by the Tall-Yor - the cognition hood that made his mind one with the Clarity newborn.

He had been a pilot in the main fleet, ferrying passengers between worldships, then shamed for having the audacity to have ferried an especially pernicious guest to the Supreme Overlords vessel when he didn’t want to be distrubed.  That Nerak was just performing a role with no understanding of the pointless Fleet politics mattered not, his hands were broken and he was tossed to the pits.

“The infant does well,” he confirmed to Reeda, voice coming from vibrating chords of muscled throat-guls in the ceilings of the coral bridge, symbiote grasses and algaes growing quickly to furnish it.

“But it needs a few more days at least to absorb the sun's energy and solar ejection nutrients before going any further.”

Reeda bit back her annoyance, she may have been too hasty in declaring her apostasy…at any moment the Avatars could arrive, and while confident she could convince Milaea to allow her to leave once more, if Karintha and the others were present…

“We can’t linger Nerak,” she replied
“Can we go to a different system at least, harvest energy there?”

“This is the sun the Clarity grew under Reeda, you know that,” he replied - the living vessel had adapted to the radiation profile of this star, jumping to another and waiting for it to adapt could mean an even longer wait before leaving the core.

[Bloooorrrrpp] the ship trembled with what felt like a toddlers excitement.

“What’s that?”

“At the edge of the system,” Nerak said leaning deeper into the cradle
“They’re back…”

<<<<>>>

It did not take long for the vilip to twist into the form of Karintha’s face.

Clarity was still young but had felt the new vessels micro jump further in the system then split up, one of the Destroyers headed straight toward them.

Not understanding the living vessel thought it a playmate and was filled with as much excitement as Reeda was dread.

“Reeda,” Karinth said calmly
“Milaea tells me you and the others wish to leave to seek a new home,”

“This is true,”

Karintha sighed

“The rest of your people are aboard the Aertemisaea headed toward you, I assume your vessel can find a way to transfer them over, then those who wish to join you may do so before you leave,”

Reeda paused, she hadn’t expected such…hospitality.  Karintha likely thought they could convince some to stay.  Reeda was certain once she explained the Secular Truth to the others a majority would join her, the rest…like those currently sedated in the lower levels of the Clarity’s bow…would take more convincing later away from the pernicious influence of the Avatars.

“It does…I do not want you to think us ungrateful for all your people did for us, however it is time for us to chart our own course,” Reeda quickly added.

“I understand, your sacrifices for us have been great, your friendship valued, we hope it will continue,” Karintha finished before the link cut the villip returning to a leathery rounded sac.

Reeda felt the tension dissipate, the throbbing vaculoe of gas in her abdomen a reminder of the last resort, a poison gas she had created to kill Aethans and implanted in her own body to ensure it was not discovered by the Loyalists.

She hoped it would not be needed

<<<<>>>>

Karintha set the Villip down the weary fragments of her People behind her.  They had run from Ygmir, she knew there was nowhere to hide from the Flesh Crafters.

12 hours in hyperspace had allowed them to patch their most grievous wounds, eat and regain some semblance of marital capacity once more courtesy of their genehanced physiological recovery mechanisms.

Still…Maekal was struggling to walk, Jarys and Taran looked like sacks bashed against a rock, Aresaea was still sleeping off her Disintegration Flare, Milaea watching over her, herself depleted from the teleportation at Teta and massive defensive and healing support since.

Even the Verndari were reaching limits of their endurance.

“Home,” Ninth said beside her feeling the touch of the Aether about their home system with almost a trace of sentimentality on her aura until machine-like neuro-regorporamming instilled at her reactivation suppressed it.

“Leading the enemy here is reckless, we should jump immediately,”

Karintha felt the warm comforting press of the Goddesses power upon her, welcoming her back, gentle fingers of their six hands seeking to massage and soothe her cuts and fatigue as it would everyone.

“Here we have our best chance of success, the Flesh crafters would never suspect we will lead them to our home world, they will think it another random system or outpost,”

“You cannot be certain,”

“Nor can you, here we will recover faster, the Aether in this system is Ours, our power is magnified three fold - We will need all of it,”

Those same Divine hands and eyes now prickled over Ninths aura, observing, probing, before seeking to delve in.  The Remnant leader resisted.

“Those are Our Goddesses,” Karintha explained of the semi-sentient Aether power that sought to ‘welcome’ Ninth back.
“Not mere superstition,” Ninth noted still resisting

“Our Goddesses are real, they are not distant inactive deities,”

Ninth’s mind searched the vast trove of hypno-induced memories from her reactivation for possibilities on how this Goddess entity might have been generated.

“Milaea has a number of theories,” Karintha said in response to her thoughts
“That the coalesced souls of the dead Technocracy formed together after the Sith invasion, that the worship of the People gathered into a self aware Force entity within the Bloodstone core of the Planet. Aethena, trapped in the Blackstone Altar, slowly seeped latching onto the worship of the People to try and pry herself out unsuccessfully…an accumulation of all the living women of the Peoples thoughts, our Group Mind writ large and lingering….or perhaps some combination of all…it doesn’t matter they are a resource for Purgatio Astra,”

Ninth remained silent in the quiet of the War room some time….Finally she determined the needs of the moment outweighed her concerns, allowing some of the cloying needy tendrils to embrace her - Karintha scoring another small victory.

The closer their ships drew to Aethas the stronger the power of the Goddesses was - they had already sacrificed thousands of People in the Devastation, tens of Thousands in the Collapse before that - Karintha was certain her Goddesses would not allow the Remnants to fall now.

The door opened to Kiraea and Valens, the final plans to be set in motion.

“I have a particular task for you Verndari,” Karintha noted to Ninth

<<<<>>>>

Yhum had always been scarred.  Now his face was a cutting board of slices and patched pieces of skin, lipless he seemed to have a perpetual smile.

The vast senior member of the Warrior caste was first aboard the Clarity, his face unreadable beneath the extra damage from the last war fought for false gods.

More shambled in behind, none without some serious wound.

“The Vhal’Dan are worthy opponents,” Yhum said as Reeda stood before him on the other side of the boarding tube, the young connecting port pink and wet

“Our people have bled for the false gods for the last time,” Reeda said boldly

“You have allowed your doubts to grow like a cancer,” he bitterly in replied.

“Yhum you must know by now they are not gods, their powers are not unique, the Sith, the Vhal’Dan have the same abilities! Why fight for them any longer?”

He sneered

“They are Avatars, the Gods work through them more closely than others by their deeds not their glittery powers - first to free us of the chains of the old ways, now they bring us to glorious battle against foes no fevered dream of a poet among the fleet could grasp!”

She realised she was wasting her time, Yhum and the warrior caste cared only for glory in battle, and the Aethans provided that in abundance.

“You’ll be killed on some forgotten world, you think the Aethans care - they will not remember your name and deeds!”

He shrugged
“Yun-Yammkas Black Tablet records all deeds of Battle, that is enough,” 

The large still empty coral room, few of the internal walls had grown to full height yet, echoed his words.

“I will not abandon the Avatars, who stands with me!”

Dozens soon gathered with him, one warrior T’savok whispering in the remains of his ear.
Yhum merely nodded

“It is not enough to keep your heresy to yourself, you have bound and gagged believers!” he snapped suddenly at her amphistaff raised, the other Atheists raising their weapons in turn, T’savok had found the 36 Loyalists Reeda had ‘pacified’ with her toxins.

“No!” she snapped.  “There can be no more bloodshed - I’m sorry Yhum, but one day you will thanks me,”

She tense her calves in a rhythmic pattern, neurons linked to an Antohila queen nearby triggered the tiny bugs' attack behaviour.  All the Atheists had been bathing for the last few days with a special pheromone cream that marked them as Antohils - those returned from Galtea had not.

Hundreds of bugs swarmed from half a dozen Atheist Myyr-weed cloaks and throats, the swarm biting the returned Vong with anesthetic stingers that lodged into the skin and shut down their muscles.

Dozens slumped to the ground as Reeda secured her people from the Avatar’s clutches. 

“Nerak, quickly, cut the boarding tube and…”

Her eyes were filled by a vast black bulk coming through the tube at incredible speed.

Hierarchy was easy, those who talked were above those who listened - Ninth lifted the most talkative of the Vong by the throat and lifted her up.

The newly named Verndari of Aethas first mission was to put an end to this Insurrection of Outsider Vassals. 

The Vong traitors would no doubt be equipped to counter an attack from the Tribals - They had no experience or knowledge of the Remnant, the very reason Karintha had sent them.

Reeda kicked and coughed as the fist slowly cut off the air, biting her tongue in desperation to unleash the poison in her abdomen.

A hissing green gas belched from the Vong Shapers side, Ninth worrying the creature was damaged at first but the creature continued to fight before finally passing out.

Around her the Atheist vong struggled against the might of the Verndari, the enormous Aethans too fast and strong, there were only a handful of Warriors among the Atheists, half of these fell to their knees in repentance before the Verdari slammed them unconscious.

Just as Ninth had preserved as much of the Prakthians as possible, so here she ensured no living resources that would help further Purgatio Astra were wasted.

As abhorrent as the living vessel was to them she knew the biotechs worth was incalculable.

Working toward the bridge effortlessly knocking aside coufees and amphistaffs she suddenly felt faint.  A tingling numbness in her side near a small crack in her Aegis armour.

Moments later she fell to the ground.

“Ninth!” Sixth ran to her side as the poison took hold and the galaxy went black.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 07, 2022, 01:05:18 AM
Chapter 54 — Conflagration — Insurrection — Part 2
Tnbu

Heavy boots slammed into the brittle rocky ground,  the stomping Seinar mech suits cracked queer surface corals that lived in the ammonia atmosphere.

The Ketka fanned out around the still forms of the Aetherian ships, scouts rushing to the vessels as Tnbu waited anxiously on this Force forsaken world deep in the core.

The rest of the system seemed utterly devoid of life or infrastructure, they had followed plasma and radiation trails here directly, the path so strong it indicated their ships were bleeding fuel and resources and likely couldn’t continue in hyperspace….

In truth is was Taryn using an old Pirates trick of doubling waste venting to fake a retreat, ensnaring the less worldly Jedi desperate to believe this was the last desperate hovel of the Aetherians.

“No Life forms detected, thermal and physical tracks leading to the caverns,” The Ketka beside him finally spoke.

“We have them on the run!” Knight Suratos boomed behind him

“More likely a trap,” Tnbu cautioned “But a desperate one, the Ketka will flood in and spring it,” he looked to the Cyborg liaison who remind unmoved

“Pending” was all it said.

“Pending? Pending what?” Tnbu demanded, grateful as he was to be out of the stench filled aura of the Flesh Crafter he had not come to the surface to wait on the pontfication of the Pohna Kaeka before advancing.

“Confirmed,” the Ketka now said. 

As one the Pure warriors swept into close ranks and began to march back to their ships.

“What! What is this,” Tnbu hit the comm, static was his only reply.

A light shone at the side of one of the vessels illuminating half a dozen silhouettes.

The Jedi mechs charged weapons and snapped on over sized Sabers.

Lydan and Taryn shared a grin, Jarys narrowed on Tnbu, Melron spun his sword in wide practice arcs, Taran paced beside Valens both unyielding as the rock of the planet Alixaea they stood upon.

“Master Tnbu,” Valens said with faux respect.

“Traitor!” Tnbu’s Sullustan voice normal chiming became a hiss and he rammed his foot into the mechs accelerator pedal.

Tnbu went straight for Valens.  Jarys stepped in his path - his sword powered by vicious filial protectiveness sliced deep into the mechs knee plate, Jarys using the stalled momentum to launch himself up onto the Mechs back ripping at the arm with his bare hands, face feral beneath his helmet.

Tnbus twisted the control stick hard but the Aethan would not be shaken off.  He spun round and round catching glimpsed of the rest of the battle, each Mech taken on by two aetherians, the Shadow Warriors seeming to have appeared from nowhere as Yorna’s Veil of Mist lifted.

Oblivion arrows and Force lighting streamed all over the fifteen Mechs, the Jedi responded with gatling laser fire and heavy swings of overpowered sabers.

They suffered from two critical disadvantages. 

Few of the Knights of the Oath of Vigilance had extensive training with the mechs. More vitally the Aethans were  primed from fighting with Vhal’Dan Cataphracts, true experts in melding man and armour into a unified whole with years of training and experience the Jedi lacked.

It showed quickly - as half the mechs sputtered and died the Jedi leapt out to fight on foot.

The Knights of Vigilance were dedicated, had trained with extraordinary focus and intensity in the years since Ord Mirit to ensure they were ready to face Aetherians - never again they had sworn would the Jedi be taken by surprise and steam rolled by the nefarious demi-gods as they had been during the Night of Madness and on Myrkr and Ord Mirit.

Their ferocity caught the Aethans, still battered from Galtea, by surprise - Melron knocked to the ground saved by Lydans swift intervention from blazing yellow blades, an Ikotchi Jedi fending off Evyn, Evaea and Maekal at once with a monstrous saberstaff, only their numbers allowing the svelte Evaea to get in and ram a dagger into the back of his knee, still he kept them at bay.

Taryn locked with a Thisspiasian whose long slithering tail wrapped round the pirates leg upending him for a moment, Taryn used to Lyaea slamming him upside down against trees when he got too fresh managed to keep his control until Lysan came down on the Jedi plunging his borrowed sword into the meaty tail and slicing it open. 

The pair worked swiftly to lop off the Thisspiasians arms.

“Erm thanks…Dad,” Taryn said with an uncomfortable shrug, Lysan barely having processed his daughter was twenty five years older than when he last saw her, let alone she was paired with a male he had never met simply nodded then headed to assist Varan and Maseon struggling against a hissing Tandoshan who had clawed Varan’s face half open.   

Kisaea and Kiraea took a Bith Jedi apart, the cousins seamless in leaping over or rolling under his Saber-Tonfa’s drawing blood with each slice to inflict a death by two dozen cuts.

Sofa was adamant in her refusal to fight  real Jedi - Temple or Gray - the Orthodox Tnbu was outside of that immunity. 

The Sullustan finally managed to break Jarys off, battering the Aethan still injured from his fight against Nurhl to the ground, Jarys fended off the blows best he could, feeling still unhealed muscles re-tear - he was giving his sister-in-law time.

A Running Crane strike plunged Sofa’s aether lighting sheathed saber through the back of the Mech, cracking it open into orange glowing slices of metal.  Tnbu quickly ejected landing in a roll, Sofa already coming at him her Niman form set to aggressive Tnbu’s Crimson blade was locked in desperate defence in moments.

The Sullustan hissed with the struggle of matching the superhuman strength of arguably the most abominable of them all, the Jedi turned Aetherian! 

No he reminded himself, she was never a True Jedi, a fallen lustful pretender!

The fury channeled into a counter attack Sofa switching to a more guarded approach in line with a genuine True Jedi - her father in every way that mattered - Soryu.
Whatever these Orthodox quims had deluded themselves into thinking they were no more Jedi than she was.

No Jedi would be so depraved, or indeed so totally stupid, to ally with any Hutt, let alone the Flesh Crafters - so far as she was concerned Tnbu would only be reaping what he had sown.

The Jedi Master could sense the battle turning against him - his Knights were strong, dedicated but their tactics had relied on support from overwhelming numbers of Ciy’Keueketka to weaken the Aetherians - the perfidious Hutts betrayal left them utterly exposed.             

His knights fell one by one, Jenaea lopping off the legs of Hymmej, Adaea headbutting Ri-Quon-Simm unconscious, sensing none had actually died the enormity of the Hutts betrayal echoed in Tnbu’s head as surely as the vibration of his saber as it fended off the Heretical Sofa’s blue blade.

[And Jedi…If this is a fool's errand, you and your Knights return to Pybus with me.]>

The Hutt had played all sides and won.

Tnbu was not even surprised, angry yes, but not shocked.

When you lie with Hutts, you get muddy.

All about him the Knights fought valiantly against the vile Aetherians, but for every blow they dealt, every cut they scored more red lighting flickered round the abominations bodies quickly soothing and healing the wounds as if the very Force here belonged to them.

Teeth were crunched by Melron’s fist, limbs severed by Tarans Claymore, shoulder turned to hissing cauterized blobs by Taraea and Varan’s fire.

The end was slow but inevitable, Sofa’s back hand smacking the wide faced Sullustan off guard, her knee drilling into his throat - his short stature and her enhanced Aethan height letting her bear down heavily on him.

He staggered and whistled painfully hurling a blast of kinetic energy at her, she brushed it aside with malefic lighting that struck his blade, he drew on the Light to resist but found it came slow and sluggish as if resenting his tainted touch.

How could it resist him!

He was doing the Forces work fighting these vile creatures when the Council would not, had tracked them down, brought an army to bear upon them, he was a scion of the Orthodox!

His delusions of grandeur were met with Sofa’s hilt between his eyes, a sweeping kick plonking him hard into the rock, her blue blade hovering over his eyes as her foot stomped his wrist, his saber rolling free.

 “You’ll never win,” he trilled defiantly.

“You can only lose by fighting us,” Sofa sneered, kicking his skull into unconsciousness.

<<<<>>>

 
Loose Ends
“I told you there would be consequences,” Milaea said in the dark of the Coral forged room, the jittery obsequious Wnnask bowing incessantly before going about his work on the Twelve insurrectionists held in place by the Verndari.

While the others fought she had taken Ari to Aethas and picked up Wnnask from his hidden laboratory, fully knowing what Karintha intended. 

The Matriarch had decided to trade Vong for peace with the Hutts, even before the short-lived insurrection.   

Reeda stared back expressionless, unable to make out the false Avatar.

The Vong woman noted briefly the tools Wnnask was using, knowing the purpose immediately.  The false gods had been wise to hide the insane little Shaper from her.

“I could have found a way to let you leave peacefully,” Milaea went on knowing Reeda wouldn’t speak.

“You ended that possibility with the gas,” 

The bio weapon intended to kill the Aethans Reeda had unleashed struck Ninth directly, the toxin latching onto their carbon dioxide absorbing pores. 

It was Reeda’s bad luck, and Karintha’s shrewd move, to send Ninth and the Verndari to deal with the Vong, knowing the insurrectionists had no knowledge they even existed.

The creations of Project Aertemsiaea had fewer absorptive pores and a faster metabolism than the Tribals, less toxin entered and was washed out faster.

Even so Ninth was still in a critical condition, her survival uncertain at best.

Reeda’s fate was sealed with that attack.

Wnnask’s eight digit shaper hand dripped with bone melting acids to begin the surgery, he stood jittery before Reeda, hate in his eyes, tattoos of the ‘Avatars’ on his gaunt face.

“No pain for this one!” he snapped at the traitor to the Gods. 

The Vong considered pain a sign of life, a gift from the gods, anesthetization was an insult, however lost on the atheist Reeda.

Milaea, determined Ari would wake up with this chaos over at last, watched as the consequences she had promised were inflicted.

<<<<>>>

“Six male, Six female,” Karintha confirmed as Third and Fourth hefted the last of the traitor Vong into the Ketka vessel, the vast holo of the Hutt peering at them.

[Very unique indeed…] the Flesh crafter gurgled.

“There may be some minor damage during the…pacification.”

In truth there was more than minor damage after Wnnask had been at them.

Fanatical and ingenious as he was obedient he rapidly performed the surgeries to render them all but brain dead, removing the vaa tumor - the living databank of all the Vongs shaper knowledge - from Reeda Kwn, the leader of the insurrection. 

The Hutt, unaware of anything regarding Vong culture or biology would likely never realise.

[And to the Jedi as well,] he half burped with some displeasure. 

It was true some of her People had been more ‘aggressive’ with capturing the Jedi alive and ensuring they couldn’t try to escape.

Karintha pressed forward.

“Then our agreement is settled, all compensation paid and obligations fulfilled, our status toward each other neutral.”

If she knew one thing about the Hutts it was to ensure you closed any deal with them as quickly and comprehensively as possible.

[I think not,] the Hutt prepared to issue the order for an all out attack, he now had living unique samples and held the advantage with no reason not to press it.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Karintha intervened quickly, with a single smooth motion she drew, aimed, fired and then re-holstered her Hades pistol killing a Ketka with an overcharged head shot that went through the helmet.

The Flesh crafter retched viscous black gunk all over a slave dabbing his belly. His head swam as he felt his very soul seem to leak from his body.

Chubby arms flailed smacking the moisturising slaves off their feet, pain tingled and burnt from within.

[What…what witchcraft is this…] he burbled in genuine pain for the first time in centuries.

“Just that, look under your arm,”

He had a slave lift it, a stange circular rune with a triquetra in the middle that seemed to have been burnt into his flesh.

“That is a variation of a Dathomiri hex I put on you when last we spoke, it links you to a number of your Ketka we also hexed at Ygmir and some of my People…the essence of it is when one of them is injured the hex will draw Force energy from you to try and heal them - an extreme burst like that when they die…the effect is cumulative of course, should two perhaps three depending on your constitution die so will you…”

[A trick…] he claimed, uncomfortable at the wyrd placed upon him pointing to his scrubber to try and remove it.

“Do you want to take that chance?”

She knew he was already contemplating options, and how futile they all were.  Of course he could work out which Ketka were on the ships they had boarded at Ygmir and isolate them, but before the Aethans could strike them down?

And then if the Aethans were linked too how could he risk inflicting any violence on them, or risk them simply killing themselves?

The Aethans had proven twice to be able to unleash weapons of vast destructive potential with their magicka, while his Aniahiooy was at the edge of the system and safe, the Ketka were not.

[You are bluffing] he said with a groaning drone of resignation

“Ask a witch of Dathomir, a Fallanassi, a Bo’Marr Divinator, any who practice the Crafts of Old and they’ll confirm it,” she challenged his doubt
“But they cannot remove it…and we can hex any Ketka or other being we desire to you,”

Slowly recovering his breath the Hutt eyed Karintha once more.

[We shall see…] he bought time.  The Hutt was more than willing to sacrifice thousands, if not million of Pure Warriors…

But a single moment of pain upon his own person was not worth revenge, and he had at least something to show the other of his Sect for the punitive expedition in these ‘Vong’ and the Jedi to ‘play’ with.

It would have been easy enough for Karintha to kill the Flesh Crafter, with the Obelisk and a Trinity of the women she could have pinpointed his life force among the bland Ketka, extended her Telekinetic power and burst his heart across the system. 

But that wouldn’t deal with the Ketka, wouldn’t prevent more Flesh Crafter retaliation in the future. 

Guile and threat were the only ways to defeat a numerically superior and technologically equal opponent.

[You are a crafty one,] he finally admitted leaning back his skin briefly uncoated by the salves from his slaves drying out rapidly from his own advanced age that he sought to extend by any means necessary.

[We never wish to encounter your kind again]

“The sentiment is mutual,” Karintha replied, suppressing any outward show of relief.

The Ketka shut off the holo and strode, weapons still primed back to their ships, Valens and Kiraea coming to stand beside Karintha as the last remnants of the Hutt vessels on blue jets sped from the planet's surface.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: Lord_S_Gray on April 07, 2022, 01:08:04 AM
 
Epilogue
“...only we survived,” Suratos finished his debriefing under the harsh eyes of the Council, morning sun peaking through the skyscrapers of Coruscant to the east, he had begun his tale the previous afternoon, the Masters scrutinizing every detail and the Jedi himself.

The Thin human Jedi’s voice was now hoarse and strained from answering all their probing queries as he detailed how, believing the Aetherian Valens to be alive Master Tnbu had made a deal with the Hutt Flesh Crafters for troops and support.

Of course no such Hutt support ever came, it was Suratos thought, all in Tnbu’s mad imagination.

In the end all he had done was intervened in a completely unrelated deep core war between Praktih and Teta, then led his Jedi into the dangerous depths of the core, finding a rocky ammonia covered world on which they encountered a pre-space flight indgenous species that attacked them, killing the majority of the Jedi, Suratos and Tnbu barely escaping.

The Sullustan master - already mentally unstable - suffered Void sickness as their ship's seals had been damaged.

Even now Master Tnbu was in a Medical Isolation cell ranting about Valens, Sofa and others that the Council had seen die on Ord Mirit being alive.

High Sentinel Yshrrk leaned back raising his heavy furred brow to Grand Master Yoda, who without a word dismissed Suratos, not speaking until the door closed.

“I sensed no deception…but it does not mean his experiences were genuine,” Master Dillaa said, a Miralan, the foremost of the council in Mental Force techniques.

“Inconsistencies you sense?” Yoda asked

“Some, but whether due to manipulation, trauma or Void sickness it’s impossible to discern.  On the balance of probabilities I believe him,”

“Tnbu was never the same after the Night of Madness,” Master Nagasa agreed from Dantooine via holo, the esteemed master and Yshrrk were the last of the ‘Old Guard’ that recalled the time before Kimar and the Hyper Orthodoxy that he had coloured the Order with. 

A dying breed.

[We’ve recovered evidence that Tnbu did use the Advanced Communications array here to send two messages to Hutt Space, and received three communications from persons unknown in the deep core.  We haven’t recovered the transcripts or recordings, Tnbu was thorough in covering that up at least] Yshrrk explained of the investigation the Sentinels had undertaken internally.

“I find it hard to believe the Hutts would send troops to assist Tnbu’s private vendetta,” Fal-Te agreed, the Kaminoan’s tone ever even.

“Unlikely it seems,” Yoda agreed
“A Dark Path to even seek such aid, evidence enough of Tnbu’s instability,”

“But so many Jedi never returning?” Kyan Mir countered “Killed by tribals in the deep core?”

[The deep core is uncharted, as dangerous as the Unknown Regions some say] Yshrrk replied firmly
[The miners there frequently tell tales of Exogroths, Gargoyles and Star Vampyrs, undoubtedly exaggerations - but almost certainly based on real undiscovered species in the Danger Zone near the Black Hole - Trees only know what the true source of these myths are]

The High Sentinel was in a hurry to bury this. 

His last communication with his Nephew Ryshhk on Galtea had been…troubling -the war there was over but the means of its ending was horrific, Thought Bombs and ‘Shadow Warriors’ - the Jedi had no time for chasing ghosts in the core, for fear of what they would find.

A consensus was quickly built to leave the stone unturned.

Traumatized by the Night of Madness and Ord Mirit, Tnbu had gone on a mad crusade seeking dead men and found only void and blood in the Deep Core.

“Agree I do, suffered enough from the Aetherians ghosts we have, let Master Tnbu’s folly be the end of it,” Yoda drew firmly the line under that chapter of the Jedi’s history.

<<<<>>>>

They didn’t believe him.

Despite overwhelming evidence the Council preferred to put its head in the pumice while the magma rose to their knees!

Tnbu raged in his cell, subject to pointless counselling sessions for his ‘unresolved trauma and consequent waking nightmare delusions’

The slot on the door opened, the Padawan sliding the meal tray in.

When the slot didn’t close straight away he looked away from the corner to it.

A long Bith finger tapped on the tray then the hands left, slot closed.

Stepping forward Tnbu looked down on the Ryza-Rice Citrus bake.  The Corel-zest garnish on top was shaped in the form of ‘VGL’.

His mood calmed immediately. 

The Knights of the Vigilant survived.
 
<<<<>>>>

Rubbing her temples Li’I’Mack wondered how in the world Odjina ever dealt with the paper work!  Managing People, Training, all that she could deal with, but the Paper Work!

The chime of her office door offered welcome relief.

“Kage,” Zen’I’Na popped his head in
“A man was found this morning in the Temple District, alone barely clothed claiming he has come from the Deep Core,asking to speak with the Venerable Od’Ji’Na, peace be upon him.”

“Zen, I’m really not interested in drunken Koawans causing a scene have Mi’ke deal with it,” she replied taking up her stylus once more

“Kage…he claims to be Ar’On’Dir,”

Her stylus dropped.

That was a name she hadn’t heard in a decade and a half.  Ho’Li’s husband, Ha’Ona’s father - Maker! Li had been the Bridesmaid at the wedding! He had vanished when Odjina was still Kage on a scouting expedition to the deep core, long presumed dead.

“Show me,”

<<<>>>

He sniffed the clothes again, he never imagined he would smell so…clean…again.

Aron didn’t remember much, the Shadow Lords retreat, Chaos on the pads…he had…stolen a ship?...something…he had glimpses of faces, red haired women talking over him…were they nurses? 

Then the cold bite of the wind as he woke on a strange world before a Temple to the Maker, people staring until the Priest came out and covered him in his own robe, asking his name and story - also Aron recalled the Priest sniffing his breath to see if he was drunk.

Aron didn’t even know what planet this was until the Priest told him, M’Tzigon, one of two planets Odjina had planned to take the Order after the Exile, it was then something miraculous happened, somehow he recognised the Priest as Mu’Ran’Chillum, a Silver knight when Aron was young.

Things cascaded from there - and now…now he sat in the small wash room at the back of the Temple, clean and fresh awaiting the Kage. 

He felt afraid, he shouldn’t and yet…what if this was all a dream?

The Door hissed open, he stood seeing the robes of the Kage before him.  But they were not worn by the green skinned twi’leki with smile line wrinkles of Odjina.

“Li…” he rasped barely able to breath

She could barely believe - it was Aron! A miracle on the eve of S'Kar'Yom!

“Aron…how…what…” She realised it didn’t matter there would be time for that after. Racing forward she grabbed him so tightly he cringed.

“Maker we thought you were…”  dead…Oh Maker…Merciful Maker…how will I ever tell him about Odjina, Ho’Li…even Jo… the thought almost caused her to forget the young Teidowan behind her.

Light brown hair and curious eyes Ha’Ona’Mack wondered who this was that had gotten her Aunt Li so anxious and emotional.

Sobbing, Li turned around guiding Aron forward.

“Ha…Ha’na, this is Aron, Ar’On’Dir, your father,”

His Dream came true.

<<<<>>>>

Somewhere along the Velbari Run to M’tzigon, Sofa playfully tapped her husband on the shoulder as he sat eyes fixed on the black whorl of the hyperspace tunnel, his emotions a mix of irritation at the long trip and indignation at such ‘mercy’ shown to an Outsider.

“Who knows,” Sofa smiled,
“Maybe one day that’ll count for something,”

<<<<>>>>

“There,” The surveyor pointed to an unpromising patch of land on the archipelago, subject to frequent flooding from the tides.

Nurl Båz-Rhadde swept his cloak around his muzzle against the crisp sea breeze endemic to Zilior and strode forward, the sand and sea lapping on his boots as the morning sun shone harsh upon him from a cloudless pink tinged sky.

Beneath the armour he still felt the twinges of the old wounds.  His body was whole, but his soul would always be bleeding for friends and comrades lost.

He knelt on the shore and scooped up a handful of wet sand, allowing the grains to trickle through his fingers.  This island chain had been allocated by the newly named Zilior Hegemony as the location for the Cataphracts temporary head quarters. 

Despite Jorl’Taf and Raru Vinjaga’s efforts the Former Confederate Colony of Zilior had not unanimously welcomed the Vhal’Dan refugees. 

A considerable number of the more ‘Patriotic’ Archipelago Colony Local Governments had joined together to denounce the off world interference, mutual denunciations were flying thick and fast, minor acts of sabotage and trade restrictions stinging on both sides.   

The drums of war beating, Nurhl knew the sound well.

Too well

His hand closed into a fist he rose.  He had lost one home to treachery and defeat. 

He would Not Lose another, come Hell or Shadow Warrior.   

Malja watan” the barest growl the Cathar axiom passed his locked fangs -  ‘may you always find home’ he wished for himself as the glowering sun burnt high above a strange world.

His home was not Galtea, nor Zilior - it was the accepting multi-species, omni-cultural unity of the Cataphracts and the Vhal’Dan.

A home the Cataprhacts would stand Sword and Shield for till the Galaxy faded.

<<<<>>>>

The physical damage was not the issue. 

Transfusions and Wnnasks assistance had rid Ninth's body of the Vong poison, now stored in a small vial ready for the development of countermeasures.

It was what to do with the mind while they had the chance.

Kassyndra and her small group of healing assistants, Xani, Nyaea and Oran awaited the Matriarch's word over Ninths cold naked form, a body raised from the dead once already.

“Memories linger around the villages,” Karintha said, the Bloodstone orb Aresaea and Milaea had created to transfer her memories and self across time and through nominal death in her hand.
 
“Sad, joyful…a full range…” 

She tossed the Orb to Xani

“They need a new vessel,” 

<<<<>>>>

Cool winds blew from the mountains across the valley, preceding the steady flow of melt water as spring spread its warm hands over the land, raising up the first shoots of new growth, the once white covered landscape now a vibrant green beneath turquoise skies.

Aresaea and Milaea walked along a grassy hill past an old statue of the Goddesses, the deities arms locked together.  The wind swept through their hair, entwining the crimson and red-tinged auburn strands together as closely they had been over the last few weeks. 

Genetically perfected senses felt the Valley come alive below, as 51 Aethans, including themselves, began their days.

Taran and Jarys were already training, sparring over obstacle courses of logs that a foot could barely rest on.  Maeson and Jenaea checking on the kilns, Lydan and Lysan tapping the Gormin toward the next pasture as Xani ran beside them carrying one of the spring calves she had taken a fancy to.

Sofa sitting on a rock continued to dictate exactly how she wanted her mansion to meld Alderaanian and Hapan designs as the Warchief Valens, with assistance from Maekal, grunting at the menial work, dug out the foundations.

Further down the Valley Kiraea would be pestering Kisaea to finally marry Daysn or asking Adaea when she would be having her first child, Daryn teaching his lost twins Evyn and Evaea their family arts of hunting and tracking game.

Melron and Kassyndra would be up taking food to the ‘Rorak Twelve’ - the six men and women who had been kept as breeding stock by the Hutts finally out of their stasis pods, Nyaea and Oran dropping by later for their daily healing sessions.

And finally at the coast Yorna and Coryn would be playing in the surf, Lyaea and Taryn probably still sleeping nearby after a long night, Varan and Taraea more mature but just as adolescent in their passions likely making breakfast for the whole group on the ‘“Lovers Shore’.

All watched over by the benevolent gaze of the Matriarch, and protected by the Verndari, the Technocracy warriors allowing the ‘Tribals’ to actually be Tribal by taking the pressure off them to always be on high alert.

This had been their life in the months after Galtea, and would be for many more years to come. 

Milaea’s seior powers had seen it.

The burden of the future was one Milaea could now fully share.  While her Grandmother had helped, that relationship could never substitute for a partner helping her hold the tsunami of intrusive possibilities back.

“Shall we head down the ovens before all the sweet-rolls are gone?” Ari asked swinging their hands playfully, her cousin Arryn after his hands had been restored finding the simplicity of baking and milling the Ryz-Wheat calming and ‘earthy’ after so many years linked to machines - and like everything to do with making things he was exceptionally good at it.

“Good idea, älskling,” Milaea said using an old Aethan term meaning ‘The one who holds my love’, a private nickname Ari had come up with.

Ari always loved how her parents had used the terms ‘Kan’pa’ and ‘Kon’po’ for each other.  For mixed reasons she didn't want to copy directly.  Ari felt those words were sacrosanct, unique to Saani and Kazic, and as non-Aethan words they seemed slightly out of place…

More truthfully they were a reminder of happier times now tainted by Kazics dismissal. 

Strange she hadn’t heard from Saani in so long - Ari could only assume piecing together the Vhal’Dan was consuming all Saani’s attention, and in the wake of the Lus’Phor holocaust the use of Link Orbs by an non Aethan would be terribly draining.

A sadness she refused to allow to darken her new life.

A cloud passed across the sun, and with it a Milaea felt for a brief moment a Shadow in the Aether, as if the essence of their power had for the barest fraction of an instant been somehow darkened by an infinitesimal amount.

So slight and quickly only she could have noticed.

“Something wrong?” Ari asked looking back

Milaea shook it off, it could be one of a thousand things, the Verndari tinkering with an Obelisk as they completed the Array on the Hecate, Karintha with a new Spell, even an old Blackstone Altar cracking from erosion in some hidden Technocracy vault yet to be uncovered by Melron.

Taking Ari’s hand once more, Mili squeezed it.

“Nothing when I’m with you,” she smiled as they went down to the Valley.

<<<<>>>>
<<<<<>>>>>
<<<<<<>>>>>>

A world of ethereal mists in the sky. Decaying ruins of a distant golden age of grandeur on the mountainous surface.

An ancient Stormhold that had stood nearly Twenty Millenia upon the crag overlooking the overgrown foliage of the equatorial jungle continent.

Servants in generations old hand me downs fussing over details of protocol and hygiene within, seemingly irrelevant considering the degradation of the world about them - living out the same fanatically obedient lives as the ancestors whose genetically passed memories were infused in their minds.

A pitch black sealed room where a lone figure sat in hibernation for decades.

Eyes caked in dust and dried sleep twitched, forming Shadows in the Aether.

<<<<>>>>


Title: Re: Remnant of the Aether
Post by: TheDutchman on April 12, 2022, 03:47:08 PM
What a conclusion!

Tnbu's revenge unsated, Reeda's plans for escape and poisoning thwarted, meanwhile Aethan mercy to an Outsider?  And with Ninth recovering, perhaps she'll become (at least partially) a repository for her People, where both Projects can be combined--or, perhaps put aside even--to bring real life to her as well as the rest of the Verndari.  Also good to see that so many of the People were actually (and finally) reunited with their significant others, most especially Milaea and Aresaea.  But will their love be enough to shift cultural and genetic imperatives?  Will Mili's nightmares via her Seior premonitions come to pass, foregone conclusions or one of many possibilities?  And while Li's happiness at seeing Ar'On returned, hopefully his own horrors are behind him, finally reunited with the family that believed him dead.

The fighting is done but the struggle continues...

The Flesh Crafters (or more specifically, the Hutts) have long lifespans with longer memories.  Eventually one of them will not be dissuaded by the threat of Karintha's Malacia curse.  And while Tnbu may have been rebuked, with Grand Master Yoda and High Sentinel Yshrrk agreed to close the book on the Sullustan's folly, there still exists the Knights of the Vigilant.  We also see that Zilior is not the ready-made sanctuary that the Ansonite Vhal'Dan had hoped it would be, the first salvos of the decades-long Consolidation Wars already fired.  And then...

Then there is the being, one who has existed for 200 centuries, long enough to remember the Great Manifest Period of the young Galactic Republic, one who has finally awakened, inaugurating the Shadows in the Aether.

Meta-note: Wonderful conclusion, tying up many of the loose ends, leaving some epic easter eggs, foreshadowing what's to come... Awesome!
Special thanks to LSG for the incredible narrative (and idea!) for the Cataphracts!  Not only was it great fun to collaborate but then to see what he did with the characters that we came up with... I can say without embellishment that the death of each Cataphract was heartfelt but the three that stand out even above them would be Midge (AMAZING Force Ghost surprise!), Soban (indeed the Cataphract's Soul), and Ravra (the Cataphract's Heart and the death that broke my own; I had NO idea what LSG had planned for her and when I read that scene...I was left speechless).  For obvious reasons, Nurhl has become one of my absolute favorite characters (and he was ENTIRELY LSG's making!)  :)

CanNOT wait for our next Cycle of the Aether story!!!