Start your engines! Now that Aetherdrift has been out for a bit I thought it would be fun to ask around and see what sort of vehicle or mount Dancing-Hands, Arega, Jaspar, Ranek, Jibea and Madaya would have piloted if they have theoretically participated on the race?
Alright, that's a lot of people. So in addition to some descriptions and the card designs, I'll also have a rating for how close to reality this is, ranging from 0 (no part of this exists and it's pulled from some alternate reality), to 1 (the vehicle/mount exists, but they haven't heard of or wouldn't participate in any Ghirapur Grand Prix races), to 2 (they might actually have considered participating with that mount/vehicle). So, in the same order as in the ask...
Dancing-Hands
Reality Rating: 0 (this Vehicle doesn't exist, AND Dancing-Hands likely wouldn't participate in the race)
Dancing-Hands isn't exactly a racing type. The most likely way to get him there would be as part of efforts to support the Amonkhetu effort. But even there he'd likely not want to undermine their endeavor to show their own skills and abilities. This vehicle, the Psicycle, is one that would likely be born of Kamigawan tech, harnessing Dancing-Hands' powerful short-range telekinesis to power the entire vehicle. As a result, he'd likely be riding it fully laying down in a small cabin to have the engine as close to him as possible.
Arega
Reality Rating: 1 (the ?vehicle? exists, though I don't know if they were even aware of the Grand Prix)
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Yes... And also a tree?
Arega recently designed and cultivated for themselves a bioship to travel the Space-y plane of Sicarius at their leisure. Of course, they're Simic, so the "ship" is a living organism, though not one that's typically independently aware. Arega doesn't quite ride or pilot it in conventional ways, since they can just inhabit it as their own body, just like they can most of their creations. But it is a ship since it was made to be able to transport their main body as they inhabit the ship... And potentially passengers! There are technically two nested organisms in the full ship, a personal craft that can only carry Arega (or one cramped passenger for a short time) depicted on the card here, and a much larger one that has actual room for up to two passengers as well as living amenities, production of fruit to feed them, and some manual controls.
Built to drift on aether currents or propel itself with wings that power it via photosynthesis, it's unclear how well it would fare in a race, and if it could keep up in speed. But Arega's inhabiting of it as a body would make it much more reactive and intuitive than any Vehicle or Mount/Rider combo.
Jaspar
Reality Rating: 1 (Jaspar can and does occasionally summon echoes as mounts, but wouldn't be interested in a race, nor would these echoes be very suited to one)
Jaspar can bring forth echoes of animals from parts of them, and he's been known to use antlers in the past. While those echoes are temporary until the life left in them is consumed by the magic, they can be pretty versatile, and it's not difficult to imagine Jaspar switching to a few different echoes along the length of the race. That is, if he cared any about all that. Or if they were fast enough to compete, they're mostly as fast as the animals they're summoned from the echoes of. Though they are tireless as long as they last.
Ranek
Reality Rating: 2 (I'm sure Ranek has built an extension to the Stormplate for speed at some point over the last couple centuries. And if he's not, he might if he heard of the race, could get there and thought it a fitting test. He did not actually participate in the race.)
Ranek already has his Stormplate, which is closer to a mech suit than a typical suit of armor. Given his tendency to create magical wonders, the Stormframe Sprinter is an extension to it built for speed and maneuverability. Likely able to shift the bipedal gait to a more effective quadrupedal one for bursts of acceleration. It would be a fearsome contestant in any race it entered, leaping to speeds on par with wheeled vehicles on the road but able of much more agility in rough terrain.
Ranek, who is fond of occasions to prove himself, might even have joined the Grand Prix... But he's currently desparked, mostly retired, and living back home on Kaldheim. He might not have heard of the race, or not in time, or maybe he simply didn't have a ready Omenpath to join it, or lacked a team... Whatever the reasons, he didn't show up for the event.
Jibea
Reality Rating: 0 (Any tech Jibea might have to help their gravity magic would be wearable, not a vehicle, this tech doesn't exist on their home plane anyway, and they'd be unlikely to want to participate in the Grand Prix, even if they might watch it)
A Gravity Slider is designed to help you maneuver while in freefall, and survive any collision or landing. Maximize and minimize terminal velocity both depending on what you want at any given moment. The idea is to redirect gravity into whatever direction you want to go and simply fall towards your objective. Different parts are also designed to minimize or maximize contact friction with any object that passes by (typically the ground). Using the mass of a plane and gravity as its propellant, no fuel is required besides the magic that shifts those forces, that usually comes from the pilot. Something Jibea would very much be able to do, along with using their magic to mess with nearby contestants (or their weaponry) that are NOT made to handle shifting gravity fields.
With that said, as was mentioned in the Reality Rating, this kind of tech doesn't exist on Jibea's home plane, and they certainly didn't have it custom made elsewhere either. They're not really a racer, and there isn't much of a point to participate in those races for them, so it remains very much in AU territory. They do value the display of it and of all these different techniques and technologies and have followed the Grand Prix when possible. They were keeping an eye on the Endriders in particular, sharing some of their plights.
Madaya
Reality Rating: 1 (The Mirage Machine may have existed, though it wasn't a racing Vehicle, and would have likely been sold off at some point. And Madaya isn't a racer)
Back in the days where she was a magician (as in, a stage magician), Madaya may have bought or commissioned the mirage machine from one of the many ambitious inventors on Avishkar. Both something to store her equipment and something capable of projecting room-spanning illusions for her to integrate into some of her more involved spectacles. Sadly, times became rough, she might have had to live off of her mirage machine for a bit, then when the situation became untenable, she likely had to sell it off years ago, before she hit rock bottom and sparked.
But, as an Avishkari girl, she of course is aware of the Ghirapur Grand Prix. Not a contestant herself though. One can imagine that while an illusion van is not really a racing vehicle, she'd be able to wreak quite the havoc on the road by making other racers veer off-course, crash into terrain or each other, or worse.
The following is a modified chatlog of the RP between myself, Ranek, and Caythaes to retrieve the final portion of Terry’s split soul. The first had fallen into the Maw, and at the insistence of Eonar the Life-binder, had been rescued first as its situation had been far more dire. Now, they had to fetch the remaining one from Revendreth, where reports of it wreaking merry havoc in the Ember Ward had spread far and wide. Once Cay had made the full details of the problem known to the Accuser, they were provided with supplies and a plan: find the beast, subdue it (ideally without killing it), and wait for her to find his sinstone. Though it was a forged one, it would hopefully still serve its intended purpose once read aloud.
There was rather a lot of bickering discussion at Sinfall over the best way to handle a worgen that was described as “big, fast, angry (rabid?), spits Light sometimes, eats Light sometimes, seems fixated on Venthyr for now, ignores anything physical that’s less than a building falling on it.” Once they’d decided (independently of one another) who would be the sacrificial lamb for the beast, they set off to hunt him down.
Also, I dunno how many other people do it, but in case it’s confusing, the house rule ‘round these parts is that Thalassian = Spanish and Shalassian = French. It’s easier than trying to dredge up what fragments of each language I can find and making stuff up in the moment!
And yes I’m going to keep up the Hellraiser title references as long as I can. Fight me.
The attendant at Sinfall was apparently well-informed, or at least, not so poorly informed that they got things backward. It didn’t take the Cay and Ranek very long at all to start seeing signs of the recent fighting on the ground once they got far enough from Sinfall proper: trees with the tops sheared off, scattered burnt or burning bodies in wildly varying conditions; if either of them had been familiar enough with the Ember Ward to notice it, they'd have recognized several of the ruins had been ruined even further, smashed into and through. The airborne phoenix easily made out an alarming number of what looked like laser burns in the cracked dirt and in the various piles of rubble they passed over, and Ranek passed through.
Ranek, in particular, noticed there was precious little movement to be spotted on the way to the Scorched Crypt, and absolutely none once he was within sight of the wall of the first terrace. Even in the Ember Ward, there was the occasional scuttling of hardy insects or emaciated birds, but here? Nothing at all.
He kept his Worgen snout down, keeping track of scents to filter and catalogue, though there were precious few to be found in the dirt. As they got closer and closer, the red flags came in waves; no signs of life, no sounds even by the standards of a crypt. At least this was a good sign for hunting a powerful predator.
Cay couldn’t help but be impressed by the damage from their bird’s-eye view. They didn’t know you could make the Ember Ward any worse, but the rampaging beast had done it.
Their feathers itched, and the closer they got to the crypt, the less it felt like itching than a somewhat insistent pull. Magnets under the skin close to magnets outside, but the polarities didn't quite agree, but they still wanted to be near one another, and GOD, that's uncomfortable...
The crypt should have been crawling with condemned Venthyr and feral souls seeking shelter from the oppression of the Light. Where was everyone?
"Good news, Ranek! If- if Terry's feeling anything like- like what I'm currently experiencing, n-neither of us will need to get hurt. F-follow me, I- I know exactly how to find him."
Ranek didn’t look directly up at Cay as he advanced, the sheer destruction blowing his mind. This was something far more dangerous than he’d expected, even with the briefing they’d been given. He simply nodded, gesturing that he would follow.
The scene within the walls of the courtyard wasn't much more comforting. The silence for the pair was almost as brutal as the heat for the condemned, the lack of movement in the air leaving them with the discomforting feeling that time had stopped. Pits and gouges were everywhere, torn into the dead grass and cracked dirt, easy to trip over and occasionally as long as Ranek's shoulders were wide. Many of them had pale, yellowish puddles at the bottom of them, not unlike muddy water in carriage tracks. Except for the lack of horseshit (or anything else, really) in the smell of it, kinda made a Gilnean lad think of home.
Thinking about it... the lack of smell and the lack of movement was one thing, that was starting to become normal pretty fast. But now, there was a lack of bodies, too. Plenty of wreckage to be found, but no... well, pieces. Ranek found a scrap of tattered cloth hanging from a tree branch after a minute of dedicated searching, but nothing more substantial than that. He gently tugged the scrap down, inhaling the scent–finally, a SCENT, if only a little bit of one–to get a proper clue to begin searching for their target.
To Cay, up in the air? Something moved. Somewhere. They weren’t sure what or where but something definitely moved. Right? Maybe it was just Ranek. Except… Ranek was over there, and the movement had been over here, and– Something moved again. What. They let out an anxious keen and shifted their flight, spiraling upwards in hopes of getting a better view of the situation, looking for more movement or anything that wasn't Ranek. "I saw –something, be alert."
Ranek’s head snapped around as Cay spoke. He strained his ears to find some sort of sound to focus on.
As they both shifted their focus, they saw a shift in the ground, though it was hard to tell what it was. A small animal? An errant breeze? No bodies to spot, though, nothing small scurrying about, and certainly nothing big. Maybe something invisible? No, there were no footfalls, either; Ranek would have heard them, or at least seen the prints forming in the dirt.
What had at first seemed like spatters and puddles of dirty water revealed itself to be something else entirely, shifting and roiling in the various places where it lay until it trickled down walls, slid across the bumpy dirt, and slithered through dead grass. From above, Cay could clearly see that all the individual puddles of fluid were all moving toward a single point, steadily growing brighter and brighter as they converged on Ranek.
Ranek, of course, could see an awful lot of creepy brownish-gold shit snaking toward him at high speeds... just not all of it. His ears swiveled at the sounds of the moving liquid, too late to see them begin to pool in his general direction. He was looking for a more solid target, a humanoid shape instead of flowing liquid.
"Anar'alah, is he water?" Caythaes immediately shifted back to elf mode in a burst of flames, slowing their descent the magical way and throwing a bubble as soon as they were close enough to Ranek to do it. The bubble startled the Worgen, causing him to erupt in growling and fighting against it before seeing the puddles and scrambling backward instead. SPLAP! Several of the "puddles" chose that moment to lunge up toward Ranek only to hit the shield with a wet, sticky smack and cling on.
A few more reached their destination before he was done fighting against his shield, and Ranek could see them joining together as they met. Other puddles found him faster due to his frantic scrambling, approaching him from all directions, but they didn't seem to be quite able to accomplish much besides obscuring his view. Yet.
Cay, from the outside, could see the unsettling horror show unfolding, though thankfully, their bubble seemed to be holding. Slowfalling gave them a few seconds not only to stare at Ranek in utter dismay, but also to try and figure out their next move. Unfortunately, the instant their feet touched the ground, several blobs veered off. Beelining straight for them, they sprang up and off the ground once they got within arm's length, aiming for the face!
Caythaes threw up a bubble with a squeal of terror as the blobs launched. Well, when all you have is a fire… They did not want to blast things with fire so close to their face, but that was just what they were going to have to do. Squeezing their eyes shut, Caythaes turned their face away as they threw out their hand, sending a blast of fire exploding from their palm.
Ranek, at a loss for other options, rushed toward Cay to at least try and stand back to back with them. The large mass on Ranek's bubble eagerly clung along for the ride, stretching out with unsettling, stringy tendrils toward the one forming on Cay as Ranek brought them closer together. Right about that time... his bubble began to sizzle audibly, and cracks spiderwebbed across the magical barrier. He wasn’t sure what would happen once the shields fell off, but it probably wasn’t good.
Fire near the face was nobody's favorite, at least not when they're in their right mind, but no one can say it doesn't get results. The water, or liquid Light, or whatever the hell it was recoiled from the blasts, finally relenting with a gurgling squeal not unlike Cay's own voice a moment ago. Just. You know. Wetter.
Peeling itself from Cay's bubble, the mass hit the ground with another dull splat and began slithering away. Seeing the gooey sludge slither down their shield filled Cay with a primal sort of revulsion, and they cupped a hand over their mouth as they dry heaved. For all the horrible scenarios they came up with while getting ready for this fight, this was so much worse. What the fuck did they even do?
Well, stupid ideas worked the last time, so Caythaes swiped a hand through the air and pulled back, Yoinking Ranek the rest of the way to join them. They hoped that if they got all the blobs together, it'd form an easier target to fight.
Ranek’s arms flailed for purchase as he was Yoinked. "FUCKING FEL, CUT IT OUT!" This was vastly out of control, and he was at a loss for what to do, and he hated it. He growled, losing his footing and rolling to a stop. He jumped almost immediately back to his feet but stayed put once he saw the slime on the move.
"Sorry!" Caythaes squeaked, reaching out a hand to steady Ranek as he landed and cringing back as slime flew everywhere. Anar'alah Belore, they wished they hadn't had so many teacakes before this.
The squelching horror seemed to be mocking Ranek, throwing his words back at him in squishing, burbling pops and hisses for a moment as it impacted upon itself with Cay's help. Ever played with slime as a kid? Put two big hunks of it in your hands and clap, then peel them apart? It was like that, but with speech. And then it was just like that: the mass mashed into itself with an almost gleeful fervor, rolling and surging across the ground in a cacophony of wet, semi-organic noises.
Rolling, surging... and growing. That... that was a lot of goo. There was more coming down from the main crypt up the hill, too; it seemed like it just took a while for it to get down to this level. Thankfully, none of it was paying attention to Cay’s bubbles anymore, though Ranek had much too close a call. As the last dregs of his gooey assailant loosed from the magical barrier, it failed, fizzling out as the goo plopped onto his boot and burned a hole straight through it before letting go.
A string of curses came from the Gilnean, enough to peel paint off a whorehouse as his boot was partially melted, the protective cover gone from the top of his right foot, including fur and some flesh. It was a unique searing pain that made him bite down but not howl, only angering the Worgen.
"Th-that definitely worked, though. We- oh-" they look down at Ranek's boot, their ears drooping sadly. "I- I think we just have to, uh. M-make sure we don't touch any of that."
"No shit, but how will weapons work if it burns that hot.. or melts. Either way, I am going to have to be a lot more careful than you."
While they watched, trying to keep their stomachs from turning themselves inside out--would the result look like the mass in front of them?--and trying not to think about their partially melted tootsies, the slimy blob began to form itself into something more solid. Or at least more solid-looking; who knew? Eventually, limbs formed, and a humanoid torso at the joining of them, enormous and barrel-chested. A great, pointed head rose from the top, sharp, angled ears jutting out from it and brilliantly white fangs popping out of a muzzle as it was still taking shape.
As its feet and hands formed, it fell forward into a hunch, hands thudding audibly into the dirt and coming to an end in wicked, dull claws. Top-heavy and gorilla-like, save for that wolfish face, the beast began to dry out, then heat up, glowing like clay in a kiln until it's almost too bright to look at, white and tipped in orange.
A roar like a great flame erupting from a fissure in the earth, more sensation than sound, almost enough to blow out the eardrums, clipping in and out of audibility from the depth and volume alone, exploded from a now foaming maw as Terry finally reformed, fifteen feet tall and glowing like lava.
Anar'alah Belore. Cay's ears drooped even farther as the blob kept getting bigger, and then... turned into a Worgen so much bigger than they were expecting.
"H-hi Terry," they whimper, popping up another pair of protective barriers for themself and Ranek.
"THAT is Terry? Light above, that is a big Worgen." He planted his feet despite the pain and summoned a pair of blades made from pure shadow.
"Y-you go left, I go right?"
Ranek nodded, darting left and moving to flank the beast. At least one of them would be able to strike.
It was hard to tell which way the beast looked unless he moved his head; the eyes were merely another point of light in a Worgen-shaped sun. Once the pair got far enough apart, though, it became clear that he was watching Caythaes, and Ranek could see him dig his claws into the dirt a second before he launched himself after The One In The Dress. He raised one enormous meathook of a hand high, clearly intent on either smashing the elf, or impaling them.
POONK! Terry's hand hit Cay's shield, shattering it on impact and sending them flying sideways with a sound like kicking one of those red rubber playground balls from elementary school. Cay's brain did that near-death-experience thing where they experienced slow motion and had time to realize Terry’s hand was big enough to wrap completely around their torso.
This is fine. Caythaes trusted their bubble to absorb the worst of the hit, and they skidded to a halt as they started singing to themself. Motes of darkness appeared around Terry's massive head, coalescing into an orb before exploding outwards. They hoped the shock from the spell would disorient Terry long enough for Caythaes to get off a more powerful one, or Ranek to distract him, or both. Anything besides being murdered was a good option, really.
Almost on cue, Ranek came in at a dead sprint, aiming a vicious slice at Terry’s hindmost leg and ripping a nasty gash across his calf. Terry was prevented from any meaningful follow-through by the explosion around his head, and that well-aimed slice ripped a furious howl from him as he spun to face the more direct threat.
The Gilnean watched as both of their strikes worked, but the speed with which it swiped Cay and turned to face him made his mismatched eyes widen.
Bringing both hands up above his head, Terry curled his fingers in as far as he was able, and brought them down like a haymaker from hell.
As those hands came up, Ranek swallowed hard. "Shiiiiiiiit." If he went back, he could get hit. Left or right, the beast could swipe him. So…the only logical choice was closer. He leaped forward to roll on the ground and make more slices at Terry's legs. Ranek's gamble paid off in a couple of ways: first, he didn’t get absolutely flattened into the dirt, though he did feel the impact and nearly stagger from it. Second, he could see the first wound he left on Terry's leg, an ugly, dark mark that slowly filled in with white-gold and eventually shifted back to the same color as the rest of his body. The final color seemed just a bit less white and a bit more orange now, overall.
Caythaes was grateful the only thing they had to worry about getting hit with was the ground for the moment. Too dazed for any real spellwork, they took a deep breath, letting out a dissonant scream, hoping to scare the beast away from Ranek and buy them both some time. It didn't quite frighten the monstrosity, but it did force him to bring his hands back up and cover those radar dish ears of his, stomping forward and away from Ranek, but in a vaguely Cay-ward direction.
The shriek did affect Ranek as well; clamping his eyes shut and growling loudly at the noise, he just thanked his lucky stars he was out of harm's way for the moment.
That was… the exact opposite of what Cay’d been hoping for. Their ears tipped back as they pulled desperately at the ground, tendrils of red anima rising up and wrapping around them. Ranek, spotting Cay’s escape attempt, moved back to Terry's side, slashing away at arm, flank, and leg; if it was close enough, it got a knife in it. Anything to pull attention away from Cay for the few seconds they needed to sink into the ground.
Taking the doggo's toy away made him a very angry doggo, and he snarled furiously at the space where Cay was, only for that sound to twist up into another pained yowl. Ranek ripped right into his distracted ass one, two, three times before he swung his arm blind, clipping the smaller Worgen's right arm with all the force of a speeding tram.
The clip was more painful than a straight hit from a Tauren, Ranek’s right arm feeling like it was torn from its socket. He howled in pain and anger, focusing on his left-hand blade while the right slowly got feeling back. He swiped again and again, his attention primarily focused on Terry's clawed hands.
A pool of anima opened up directly behind Terry, and Caythaes rose out of it, throwing another blast of fire at the giant lava-gen's back. The fire seemed to push him down more from the force than any actual damage; Cay finally realized that heat wouldn’t do much good. Cay also finally spotted the effect of Ranek's wounding, the dark rips that filled with molten gold and faded slowly to match the rest of him. After that many rapid-fire blows, the overall color of his body was noticeably less bright.
Oh.
"Ranek! St-stop trying to protect me and- and just keep hitting him!" they shout, throwing a volley of three fireballs at Terry to draw attention back to themself. "I- I can't hurt him; only you can! You- you have to trust me and- and focus on- on getting as many hits in as you can!"
"What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?!" He had a small laugh to his voice, owed to the pain in his arm and his frantic darting in and out of Terry’s range.
After a little pause, Cay shifts their attention to shout, "Hey TERRY. SHEDWYN misses you and- and- andandand wants you to come home now!"
Shalassian coming out of a mouth lined by gleaming white stalactites in a snout that glowed like beaten steel was a trip, but he very clearly roared "MON CIEL" directly at Cay, spittle flying from his mouth. It was a bellow of possession, a roar of challenge, of affront; how dare they speak her name at him? And yet, he didn't get a chance to act on his mad outrage, occupied with batting away the flurry of slices at his big ol' mitts. He put up with this for a few seconds before snarling something undoubtedly much less poetic and reeling back for another haymaker on poor Ranek.
Caythaes sighed in exasperation, throwing a shield at Ranek before switching languages and shouting again. Their Shalassian was nowhere near as poetic as Terry's, but they were hoping the sound of it would be enough. "[Your sky is worried, Terry! She has searched the Shadowlands for you, and she will not rest. Come back to Shedwyn. You can finally stop fighting.]"
Ranek did not understand the words between Cay and Terry, but the momentary distraction allowed him to stab deep with his good arm, twisting the knife until he looked up to see the haymaker coming. He already had a wounded arm, so he turned to take the hit on his right side. He could hear something pop, most likely his shoulder or a rib. The blow lifted him up and off his feet to land in a slow roll. The shield Cay had given him had, at least, prevented his death.
Ranek now sufficiently dealt with for the moment, Terry turned his attention fully on the impudent little shit that kept speaking of his mate.
Then he bent down, picked up the crumpled Worgen's body, and hurled it at the elf.
Caythaes hit the ground with an "oof" as all the wind was knocked from their lungs. Ranek was jarred to semi-consciousness when he impacted Cay, but the blow made him see stars all over again. With Ranek stunned, this would be a lot harder than they'd like, but they were not about to let this be the end yet. They put another barrier on Ranek as they got back up, but this one felt different before– if Caythaes could get their spell off in time, healing en–
Someone started semi-yelling about parties and getting ready to die, and it took a second for Cay to remember that they’d changed their comm’s ringtone recently.
Why the FUCK was their comm going off? Okay, new plan; Caythaes used their other Door of Shadows to get behind Terry again, dragging Ranek along with them.
"I can stand…sort of." Ranek struggled to his feet, breathing heavily, and manifested another blade in his left hand. The Worgen curse allowed for faster healing, but it was nothing that could fix his body during this fight. Cay's aura helped dull the pain enough to let his right arm dangle at his side and focus on using his left.
Finally, Cay answered the call. "If- if this is anyone other than Belore, Eonar, or Shedwyn, I'm- I'm a bit busy trying to, uh. Not die right now."
"I don't know who any of those people are, but if you want to keep your tongue long enough to explain that at a later date, I expect you to keep this channel open." The Accuser ... was probably smiling when she said that, but gosh, it was hard to tell.
Terry's footfalls were awfully loud when they weren’t being interrupted by shouting, roaring, or blows landing, and they were coming closer.
He could almost certainly take a simple leap and close the distance without effort, but he was stalking them, eyes fixed unblinkingly on them while they babbled into a rock. Steam curled up from between his teeth as his body slowly cooled further, now a dull orange that was both better and worse than the white-hot he started with. The various slices and cuts Ranek had given him–as well as dozens upon dozens of others crisscrossing his entire body–glowed an angry red that was much more visible now.
"I don't suppose you still have need of that Sinstone, courtier?"
"O-oh, Madam Accuser, I didn't- one moment-" Caythaes pauses to press a hand to Ranek's side, giving his shadow magic a little boost to help numb the pain. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm- I'm putting you on speaker, p-please do the thing!!"
One button later, Caythaes held the comm out towards Terry like a tiny shield.
Terry was... understandably puzzled, for a moment, by the small thing holding up a rock at him, and for a moment, he actually laughed, before the Accuser's voice exploded out of it. She was in full oratory mode, and it was a great and terrible voice that announced, "LET THE SINS OF TERRENCE SAMUEL AMBROCE BE KNOWN HENCEFORTH..."
Immediately he was done playing, letting out a horrific snarl and charging at Cay and Ranek.
Welp, Cay was out of Doors, so it was every person for themself. They gestured to the ground at Ranek's feet, throwing down a rune that would grant him a quick speed boost before doing the same for themself and darting to the side. They continued to–they paused to turn the volume up on their comm to full blast before continuing to hold it up.
Buy some time. Ranek charged forward to meet Terry halfway. The blade dissipated, and instead, he focused on the very shadows at Terry's feet, springing to reality a chain between the two Worgen. Ranek ran to the side, pulling tight on the chain to at least unbalance Terry and steer him away from Cay.
"Whose desire for adoration and glory saw him forsake his familial bonds…"
The commstone crackled with the red energies of Revendreth's anima as the Accuser spoke, and Terry's lip curled higher as he found his claws raking across only dirt and rock instead of elven flesh and bone.
"Whose arrogance saw him bargain for and with bodies, lives, and lands that were never his…"
The chain hissed and began to heat rapidly where it held him, and he had little time to do anything about it before he was staggering on one foot, arms wobbling almost comically before he regained his balance.
"Wow," Caythaes whispers as the Accuser speaks, scooting away as Terry staggers, trying to get out of crushing range should he fall.
Ranek held the chain tight and tugged hard, though with Terry's full attention shifted, he had serious doubts he could go toe to toe. But distracting and wounding were his only priorities. Believing the chain to be burning the great beast instead of the other way around, he held on as long as he could.
"Whose hatred was so unreasoning and vast that he saw no value in lives that were not human…"
"Oh, y-yeah, Leon did mention he- he was kinda racist, so-" That sin didn't surprise Cay much.
He'd been cooled rather a lot by now, but Terry was still too hot for metal to touch him and not get a glow-up. It still did an excellent job of frustrating him, even as he got his wits enough to snap his caught leg back and drag Ranek toward him. Stupidly, Ranek kept hold, so he was launched forward. He growled in response, charging Terry in a foolish attempt to slide between his legs and take the monster down with him.
"Whose pride allowed him to atone only for what he deemed a worthy mistake…"
The crackling around the commstone solidified into an ominous red glow, pulsating with the cadence of the Accuser's words.
"Sh-should I throw the comm at him? Or do we- is this when we start hitting him again? I've- I've never been to- to a Sinstone reading before." All the rituals they’d attended were the ones that involved fighting oozy sins made manifest.
"Who refused the hands that would save him, over and over again, even as he destroyed those he loved and lost himself..."
Terry grinned a vicious, evil grin as Ranek flew toward him and bent double. The sound of one Worgen slamming headfirst into the skull of another was an incredibly satisfying, coconut-like CLONK, but also it hurt way more than the friggin' giant seemed to be expecting, and they both reeled. The collision instantly knocked Ranek out, and like a puppet with its strings cut, Ranek dropped on the spot. He would not find out till later that the gamble worked.. just nowhere near how he expected it to work.
The glow around the commstone intensified, and anima manifested around it now, swirling around Cay's hand and then snapping out toward Terry. The Accuser's voice rose to a dull roar, despite her speaking with the same cold, dignified authority that she commanded at all times.
"Knowing his debts and their unworldly weight, he has yet to see them paid in full!"
Binds of furious red curled around Terry's wrists, dragging his arms back and preventing him from mauling Ranek any further.
"Faithless and heartless, this wretched soul stands destined for the Maw, lest he accept our final outstretched hand!"
Three more binds appeared on his ankles and finally around his massive neck, then practically threw him to the ground like Cay had snapped his leash. With a final angry flash, a glowing red muzzle clamped down on his snout, and he thrashed wildly, but to no avail.
After a few seconds of silence, the Accuser cleared her throat. "Well. Either that worked, or all of you are dead."
Terry hit the ground, and Caythaes stumbled a bit, then decided fuck it and just plopped down on their ass. Anar'alah, that sucked.
"G-given that I'm sure Ranek and I p-probably have a few sins to work off, and the fact that - that we're already here? I- I think we wouldn't go far, if we died. Th-thank you, he's... well, he's definitely not going anywhere, but uh- I- I don't know how we're going to- to get him over to Ardenweald." They paused to eye Terry over. "He's very... Big."
The Accuser clinically explained that the bindings she created lashed the soul directly to the sinstone, regardless of distance. It wouldn't do much for his weight, but that turned out to be less of a problem the longer they waited; as the body cooled off more and more, Terry seemed to be losing mass, excess material cracking and crumbling off of him like wood burning too long. The crumbly ez-bake-Worgen finally settled somewhere around nine and a half feet tall. He was still god damn huge, but not uh. That. Anymore.
"I'll send a few attendants with a carriage as quickly as they're able. If I can secure one or two stoneborn, it will of course be much quicker, but they are frequently occupied with more important matters, I'm afraid. Once the soul is safely within Sinfall, I can inspect it more closely." A brief pause, then, "In truth, I'm delighted that this worked at all. He was never dead, and the sinstone was a forgery, so... a bit dicey, hmm?"
"I- I don't think he's going anywhere, so. T-take your time. I- I appreciate everything you've-" They paused and exhaled a soft sigh. "I know there's... so many things of- of a higher priority, but- but I am very grateful for- for all you've done, Madame Accuser. I- I don't think we could have done this without you."
"Yes, I know; I am amazing, magnanimous, and extremely good at my job. But you are welcome. Let me know if anything changes."
Caythaes glanced over to Terry for a moment, figuring they could probably float him to make loading him into a carriage easier, then looked back to Ranek.
It took some time before Ranek blinked his eyes open again with a loud groan of pain. Now that Terry was no longer able to kill anyone and Ranek was groaning, Caythaes got up and walked over to him, squatting down at his side.
"Gods... who was blabbering their mouth?" He rolled his eyes.
"TH-that was the lady who saved your ass, b-be nice to her, or- or she'll probably rip you a new one," Caythaes deadpans, shaking their head as they end the call and add whatever number the Accuser called them from to their contact lists. Wonder if she'd like cat pictures?
"Congratulations. I have- I have a skinned knee and probably a- a bruised hip."
Ranek groaned loudly, looking up at Cay. "G... good. Everything hurts. Wait.." He took a second. "Nope. My right hand is numb. Thought it was fine. Are my fingers wiggling?" They were not.
"I- I think you dislocated your shoulder. Do- do you want me to set that for you? I- I am very angry with you, by the way."
Ranek took a few breaths. "Dislocated shoulder, cracked rib or two. That head butt didn’t crack my head.. though my neck hurts." He chuckled softly, which became a cough. "Oh, don't get high and mighty. You made as many decisions to put yourself in harm’s way as I did. We did a good job protecting each other, so just.. leave it at that."
"A-anyway, even if I did, I- I somehow managed to- to come out relatively unscathed, didn't I? Y-you ever hear of dodging?" Shaking their head, Caythaes very gently rested a hand on Ranek's chest, humming as they pumped enough healing energy into him to stop the internal bleeding and make it safe for them to move him. "S-sit up. I'm- I need to pop your arm back into place and bandage it."
"Ah.. well. Glad she helped." He sighed, slowly sitting up with a pained grunt. "I dodged plenty. If I had taken any of those.. except for the last, I would be dead, or close to it." He looked up at his dear friend and patted their cheek with his good hand. "You did great. And for the record, I was luring Terry into a false sense of security by charging him. I had to do something." He laughed and nodded. "Set it."
Caythaes gave Ranek a look that clearly showed they disagreed, but they let it be, shaking their head as they shifted positions. Taking Ranek's dislocated arm with one hand and bracing against his shoulder with the other, they pulled until the shoulder bone moved and popped back into place. Then, Caythaes pulled out the bandages they were sent with.
"P-part of me wants to believe that, if I make you heal manually, th-the pain might make you reconsider your choices, but-" they grumbled as they bound Ranek's arm in place and fashioned him a nice little sling. "I- I also feel like, if you haven't learned by now, y-you're not going to. But I'm still annoyed, so- so I'm not going to be nice."
A bit more bickering and shenaniganery passed on the way back to Sinfall to meet up with the Accuser and figure out what to do with their quarry. By the time they'd all gathered again, the oversized Worgen had hardened into something not unlike twice-fired clay and gone inert. It was blissfully quiet but very disconcerting up till it was confirmed that he was, in fact, still alive in there. The Accuser was... rather put out, to put it mildly, once she'd been given a more detailed explanation of just how half a soul had ended up like this. Among far harsher terms, she'd referred to Eonar as incompetent. Once her temper had settled, she set about figuring out the best way to separate the soul from the wierd, wierd body.
After about an hour, she just had a dredger hit him with a hammer and chisel while she held a soulkeeper at ready. To her own annoyance, it worked just fine, and she almost spiked the thing like a football before passing it off and all but pleading to get that absolute headache out of her sight.
Reassembling the soul pieces is somebody else's problem.
Also it turned out that comm number Cay had saved was for the dredger that’d asked for everyone’s teeth if they’d died. Good news is, Muckle does like cat photos.
Nostalgic/Starve - Day 5 - DWC ( @daily-writing-challenge )
[ I have to make massive content warnings for blood, gore and just fucked up shit in general with this story. So, please, if you are squeamish, do not read it as it is Nightmare Fuel for Megahes. ]
It was that time of year, Pilgrim’s Bounty! Every year the Frostbite’s would come and gather at the Filthy Animal in Dalaran and throw a massive Pilgrim’s Bounty party! Megahes spared no expense in making foods and hiring a Bartender to make sure the drinks kept coming and for the largest part, what food wasn’t made by Naturasu or himself, was brought in via pot-luck style from the rest of the company! It was an amazing time where Megahes got to lavish his people with thanks for their efforts, for all the jobs well done.
It really was a wonderful time and probably one of the most cheerful times outside of Winter’s Veil! Now that holiday popped off even more so!
That aside, the thanks were past and so were the cheers and calls. Everyone around the table was eating and conversing with one another. Some of them laugh and tell stories. Darla and Scratch, down on their end laughing and flirting while in a way, trying to make it not obvious. Mako and Axl, flirting not only amongst themselves in clever and coy ways, but Axl making sure to spread the love via his Tentacles whenever he was caught toying with someone in some coy, flirtatious manner. Naturasu was of course her usual shameless self and any man at the table was free game with the flirts, heck, today was such a good day that she was even spreading it over the women too! Kappi and Zimble went back and forth, as much as a composed scout and mechanically gob-posedTech-lin can as they discussed jobs that went sideways and then jobs that went so well that they could orchestrate their efforts. Heck, even Attzi was here and she brought Dave, who, despite being undead, did his best to fit in food wise and brought some specialty Stuffed Shrooms which had apparently been some Forsaken Specialty!
He wasn’t even sure how, but they managed to bring Maeris into the mix who absolutely refused to keep referring to Zokkine as a ‘New Hire’ despite having worked with him for nearly two years now. Megahes sat at the Head of the Table, smiling from ear to ear with a moment of pride at the group of people he’d somehow managed to hire or attract to revolve around the company in some fashion. Content to have watched for several minutes, he broke his gaze and leaned in, practically diving into the plate of Barbecued Ribs and Meat that… oddly enough reminded him of Ranek’s recipe! Perhaps Naturasu meant it as a surprise of some sort?
Eat up Sugar, don’t starve yaself now.
Whatever it was, it made Mega feel absolutely ravenous as if he hadn’t just eaten several plates of food and junk that’d he’d definitely hate himself for later that night or the next day. He needed more. Faster and faster, biting into the food so haphazardly that he was nearly biting at his own fingers as he broke bones and chomped on them till swallowable all while stripping away meat and licking the sauce from his fingers. It was until someone grabbed him and gave him a hard shake that he realized someone was not only talking to him, but the whole table was looking at him in absolute horror.
That’s when it registered. The food wasn’t quite food… It was his company. His friends. The men and women he hired and who had saved his life several times over. Their bodies had been torn through and ravaged as if by a pack of wild animals, only, the only creature who’d done it was…
“Boss Megahes.” The cold mechanical voice of Zimble shook him hard and he’d realized he was perched on the table, shirt torn open and bloody handprints all over him as the people he tore into probably tried to fight him off to no avail.
Naturasu and others, faces he couldn’t place now spun around him at the horror as he looked down at what he had been eating. His stomach bulged hard, curdling as his stomach lining most likely burst in an effort to fit everything. He looked more akin to a feral monster than himself but… that quickly went out the window as he realized he had been eating on… on… his vision blurred hard and he went to scramble backwards at the revelation that he had been eating what looked to be a Troll and Goblin half breed child… Was that his… His…?
Immediately he began to scream as panic kicked in! What had he done?! He’d shove his hand into his mouth in an effort to induce vomiting but nothing came! His stomach churned and he’d grab at it, feeling his innards violently roil and roll. Something moved inside of him and his panic went haywire, looking up at Nat and Zimble both as he tried to crawl away while also holding himself.
They were on him in no time at all. Naturasu holding him down as she became hard, indifferent, to him. There was no love there, no hate either… pure clinical treatment like some ward doctor.
“Zimble. You have to get them out of there…”
“Of course, Miss Nat.” Suddenly, a musical tune begins to play, one Megahes immediately knew and for the first time ever, it made fear sink so deep into his bones that all he could do was start to choke.
Zimble came to Megahes’ side, looking him in the eye with his own robotic oculus. “Clear your mind Mister Frostbite. I have detected elevated levels of stress, fear, and corruption in your system… we will purge this for you.” Zimble’s mechanical arm lifted, its gears and plates shifting as wire’s were pulled and rearranged. What had once been a hand was now a power saw, aiming to come down on top of Mega’s body-filled gut.
"Just allow the Nostalgic Melodies lure you onto Easy Street…"
Megahes immediately bolted upright from his bed, screaming in horror unlike what he had had just nights ago with his Legion PTSD. This was so real to him. Not a memory, obviously, but it was so real. He could smell the metal from Zimble’s Tech’lin augmentations. He could smell the alcohol and hear the laughter and even taste Ranek’s sauce!
Poor Naturasu, she’d nearly been thrown from the bed entirely as she’d been trying to wake him up from a Nightmare that did not allow him to come to. His hands burned hot and hard with white fire with the mixture of his Holy and Fire Magic. Fire burning blisters just as quickly as the Light was healing him. His skin bubbled and flattened in weird patches all over until he realized he was under no threat here. Naturasu didn’t dare try to wrestle him down, not like this.
Not when he was like this.
Mega’s powers slowly faded, and there in the Zocolo, they were left in the dark of their home and he’d crumble to the floor.
“ImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorry…” It was all the man could manage as his knees his the floor and like the darkness that enveloped their bedroom, Nat too, was on him just as quickly, offering sweet shushes and calming words as her fingers ran through his sweat soaked hair. It’d take some time before he’d calm from this and by morning, the two were sitting in the corner of their bedroom, Mega’s spine shoved into the point between two walls, as he explained his dream over coffee with her.
…..
Unbeknownst to either, a dark blob of ooze thrums under the mattress, slowly churning as its form shrunk more and more, until finally, nothing was left in the slightest.
Somewhere, in the dark, a heavy laugh comes as if another victory has been achieved.
Audio made on Kapwing
[ I borrowed Tim Curry's Laugh from Hexus in Ferngully! All credit goes to that amazing man! ]
