Renaus walked through the trees with no regard for stealth, trodding over underbrush and small saplings. His mechanical legs whirred with each step, cybernetic eyes highlighting nearby living creatures within his field of vision.
He was mostly cybernetics and the rest of his troll body he covered in bulky power armor, making him appear entirely robotic. It meant he made a lot of noise, though.
Some twenty meters ahead, a female troll knelt at the riverbank, scrubbing laundry in the shallow water. Even at this distance, Renaus could confirm the latent energy in her body by a meter on his visor. She was a mage, and a powerful one at that.
As he moved within range, she noticed him and straightened, waiting for him to come closer. She watched with her brow knit, a wary look on her scarred face.
Renaus noted her delicate physique and impractical, flowy attire, hair worn down that he could easily grab. However, he also noted a high psionic energy reading.
He should get this over with quickly. Not that he really intended to beat around the bush, anyway.
As the troll parted her lips to greet him, he raised his arm cannon to do the same. The troll flinched, putting her hands up just in time to form a shield- Which theoretically, would have blocked the projectile he fired at her.
Instead, the projectile shattered clear through the powerful shield and disintegrated the ceruleanblood’s arm. She gasped, clutching the immediately cauterized injury. Blazing wings spread from her back, and as Renaus recalibrated his weapons, he watched as her missing limb reformed itself out of embers.
“Surrender!” The woman cried, forming a second shield, and Renaus suppressed a shudder as his body attempted to follow her order.
She had potent magic to be certain, to be capable of almost influencing his mechanical body and mind, only blocked by his Infection’s defenses.
He had anticipated she would bolster her shields in response to his attack, and increased the power level of his weapons in turn. He fired again, but the shield held strong this time.
Impressive.
The woman held a hand out towards him, sweat beading her face and a fierce look of determination in her eye. “Lower your weapons and surrender. I will not ask again.”
His body shuddered again, and would not respond. Against his will, Renaus slowly lowered his cannon. He fought against the urge to fall to his knees.
“Speak. Who are you?”
The speech that came out was distorted and garbled as Renaus continued to fight her order.
Shaking as his body still tried to prevent him from doing so, Renaus raised his cannon again. He maximized the output, his Infection altering the cannon’s shape to accommodate the drastically increased energy level. It would deplete his main battery and force him to continue on auxiliary power, but he had to get this over with quickly.
“Do not move.” His target ordered, and he froze with his finger over the trigger. It took him several seconds to force his limbs to move anyway, jamming the button to fire.
A massive ball of energy launched from the cannon, obliterating the shield, his target, and much of the surrounding area in one.
Renaus’ body immediately began to comply again, confirming his target was dead or at least, incapacitated. There was nothing of a body left.
He connected to the communications network.
“Vanguard, reporting in. T-130 negative, death unconfirmed. Falling back for now. I will reassess and request assistance as necessary. I suspect her ability forces the very soul to comply with her order.”
> You kneel in a wooded clearing not too far from your hive, back straight as you sing.
> It’s an old song, long forgotten, but one you’ve always loved. A song of hope through suffering, of new joy, almost a lullaby. It’s one you’ve sung many times to soothe the pains of those you visited as a priestess.
> The very air seems to change as your voice weaves through it, the forest itself holding still to listen. Old trees let their branches hang low and heavy, as though briefly relaxing in their burden of holding them high. The pain and hunger of animals is eased and they stop, ears pricked, looking to you. The wind plays through your words, at perfect ease, joyously carefree on this mid-autumn night.
> You’ve been standing here for a while already, and he’s showing no signs of stopping...
> You’d gone into town for one of your usual supply trips and were on your way back, when you passed a young man ranting at passersby. Something about angels.
> You hold a covered basket in both hands. Waiting patiently, watching him silently. He seems unwell, and you would like to help. Even if you’re not sure you can...Offer him any kind of peace, because you feel as though that is what he needs.
For weeks, she had lain dormant, rotting at the bottom of a jail cell. Intermittently being fed upon by that woman, only to heal within moments, her power- No, Nirael’s power- Being sapped from her. That was all she could do, or so she thought. But despite Nirael’s power being stripped from her now, she could still feel an inkling of energy. Not Nirael’s power, but her own.
She had gained some valuable insight into her enemy, as well. The desperation with which Jannai called forth her reigning entity. The muted pain screaming from her very soul, twisted and corrupted though it was.
Jannai wanted nothing more than to die. But her death could only come about from the entity’s arrival, once it had finished with her.
Akidis took a deep breath, reaching into the depths of her ancient soul, seeking her true power which had lain dormant for so many sweeps. The power she thought had long since died out.
“Elliot,” she murmured. “Lend me your strength. Please.”
Her power welled up within, light blazing around her. She shed her corporeal form- A mere shell of Nirael’s creation- And a pair of fiery wings lifted her through the building’s ceiling, disintegrating it within moments.
Akidis hovered above the Fleet base, now a holy blazing wraith, a halo of light tendrils surrounding her.
Her gaze pierced through the roofs of the buildings, allowing her to locate precisely who she was seeking.
She merely gestured, and a ring of light formed around Jannai. Jannai gave an otherworldly shriek as though in agony, her form exploding into a mass of tentacles and rapidly reforming into herself, only to explode again, suffering excruciating pain by simply being contained. Cut off from the Entity.
Akidis gestured once more, and they both vanished, teleporting elsewhere; An empty waste where there would be little collateral damage.
"They are just something I've made to get around a little easier."
"But something tells me that isn't what you were asking."
"To be blunt, I died, in a sense. Though I was already dead, and have been for a long time. I was simply bound to a container of Nirael's making. I shed the container and became incorporeal again, and finally awoke my own powers that have been dormant for so long."
"To no end, as seems to be my fate, but that is fine. I'm content just to live again."
"I'll be fully corporeal again soon. I hope everyone hasn't been too worried about me."
Nirael went to sip from his glass of wine, and then paused when he saw a face that was not his own peering back at him in the reflection.
“High Priestess.” He chirped as a pleasant greeting, and then paused. “Why am I not surprised to hear from you now?” His matesprit Tosiol, curious, looked up from her own goblet.
“You’ve felt it too, I assume.” Akidis’s tiny reflection said. “My deepest apologies for contacting you like this- Cataclysm.”
“No, no.” Nirael’s expression darkened, for just a moment. “Desperate times, you know. This is certainly no way to have a conversation, though, can I convince you to try something a little more comfortable?”
“Don’t phrase it like that, dear.” Tosiol pat his arm, leaning to peer worriedly into her matesprit’s goblet.
“Oh, now whose mind is in the gutter?” Nirael teased. Tosiol shot him a warning glance, and Nirael smirked before turning his attention back to the goblet, clearing his throat. “Ah, disregard that, Priestess, I meant no offense.”
“None taken, Cataclysm. I am asking for sanctuary. Something powerful hunts us, and I can shed some light on the...Recent change.”
“You’ve piqued my interest, Priestess. Can I ask you to draw a certain sigil, and I’ll pull you through using that?” Nirael got to his feet, bringing his goblet with him.
“Can you destroy the sigil once we’re through?”
“I most certainly can.” Nirael held out his hand, and a blazing rune sparked to life on the stone floor. He passed a hand by the goblet, changing the image Akidis could see to an image of the rune. “Copy this, and activate it.”
After a few moments, Nirael sensed that the rune had been drawn- In blood, no less- And activated.
“Ready, Priestess?”
“We’re ready, Cataclysm. There are three of us.”
“Understood.”
Moments later, three trolls- One of which he had been speaking to through his goblet of wine- Appeared on the rune. Nirael grinned broadly at the three of them.
“Blood, Priestess? How very unlike you.”
“My son, here, is a blood mage.” Replied Akidis, resting her hands on the arm of a tall, blind troll at her side. His horns were broken, but Nirael could see the family resemblance.
“How interesting! Come, join us, we were just having dinner.” Nirael gestured to the dinner table, and then stopped and clapped his hands. “Oh, right. Introductions. So used to people just knowing who I am, you know. I am Nirael Mikari, otherwise known as The Awakened, or Cataclysm.”
“Paznic Mitaze.” Rumbled the blind man.
The third troll, a rustblood boy who was already shivering in the cold of the castle, threw a confused glance at Paznic before looking hesitantly back to Nirael.
“L...Lonnen Alfira.” The boy mumbled.
“My name is Tosiol Hasiya, The Inspired.” Tosiol said from the table, smiling serenely. “Come here, Lonnen, I’ll give you my cloak.”
> You remain still and calm as an angry-looking jadeblood pins you against a tree by your throat. He growls something only you can hear and you murmur in kind, opening your eyes for a moment, though you don’t look up at him.
> He seems to hear a step and lets you go, turning to leave the clearing, but not before whoever was approaching arrives.
> He glares at them, your blood on his teeth. You look up as well, placing a hand on the wound on your throat which should have killed you.
> It’s a quiet night at your cottage and you are out in the fields, tending to your flock.
> Spring is just beginning to sweep in, bringing with it the green blossom buds on the trees and wildflowers beginning to peek through the grass. Your garden has been cleaned of the new abundance of weeds and the early-spring crops sown. But at the moment, your garden is watched only by a sly tomcat on the prowl for nesting birds.
> There’s no fence surrounding it. On two sides a steep wooded hill forms something of a wall, and the cottage opens directly to the garden blocking off another side. The fourth side leads down into a meadow. There are a few charms to ward off beasts and crows, and that’s all.
> A pomegranate tree shades one part of the garden, and large, flat river rocks are set into a winding path throughout. Fresh green starts have been planted in the dark soil of every box, and a small basket of potatoes- The last of the winter’s crop- Sits on a rickety wooden table by the door, waiting to be brought inside and washed.
