I figured since you fine people judged me to second place (and after Raet suggested I do it on MGU) in the Praxis contest, here is my story, updated with italics.
Note it has not been updated besides the italics since I wrote it, so please keep that in mind.
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First Contact
Twenty-five millennia ago, an event of supreme violence in the fabric of time and reality would send a great, luminous celestial body hurtling towards the surface of a world known as Praxis, a doomed final journey for this blazing object. Its effects would be almost cataclysmic, plunging the world into a frozen existence for generations, carving a great scar in the land. Twenty-five millennia forward, and little is remembered of this catastrophic event, the only evidence truly ancient legends, rumours of legendary texts, demonic and divine, that describe this occurrence, and of course, the great Sealed Sea, an ancient wound upon the land of Praxis, now a home to many aquatic mamonme, and the little metallic, ivory-like fragments coveted as trinkets, remnants of that doomed celestial body… the truth is never what it seems, especially when postulated by scholars as insular as those of Praxis… and time has a way of bringing events thousands of years distant to a close, of making new truths come to light… and one thing is forever certain in the endless narrative of time and space; first contacts are never what one expects…
Somewhere in deep space, where divinity and demons cannot tread…
“… you are sure you picked up a ping?...”
“… affirmative. It’s faint, garbled, but it is the Rivieara’s transponder code...”
“… but the Rivieara hasn’t been seen or heard from in near thirty SMY…”
“… yes sir, but I’ve run it through clean-up and de-encryption multiple times. Extrapolation and logic leaves us with only one conclusion…”
“… but I don’t get it. This ping’s over twenty thousand SMY… it can’t be that far, can it?...”
“… actually, supraluminal communication analysis puts it rather close, relatively speaking to our position… but yes, the ping is that old…”
“… you are saying the Rivieara is actually within FTL jump distance?...”
“… a week’s journey at the most. How do you wish to proceed, sir?... sir?...”
“… prep ship for jump.”
--------
Calavier Continent, Praxis. Sealed Sea Shoreline…
Anya turned the white, shiny shard of warped metal in her hands as she lay upon the sand, naked without shame as she bathed in the sun’s light. The metal glinted in the sun, much as her deep, forest green scales did, her serpentine lower half swaying lazily across the smooth sand. Anya was a lamia, a mamonme of Praxis. Long, brown hair draped over her shoulders and bare breasts, concealing her peach-pink areola. Her skin was tanned from many days spent like this, her emerald eyes glistening behind squinting eyelids. She sighed out wistfully at the twisted piece of ‘Sealed Sea Ivory’ in her hand, its shape almost indicative of violent forces imparted upon it in its past.
“And the mer-folk say it’s a sign of a prosperous relationship… haaaa…” she sighed out yet again, her tone mature and gentle, yet possessing an underlying hint of disappointment; as of late, Anya had no luck with men. The first interest was forced to leave with his family, his father a plucky merchant seeking to make his riches in the capital. The second tragically vanished in a storm that lashed the Sealed Sea with sudden, unexpected ferocity, as the young fisherman was out making a haul. And most recently, her third potential love interest was stolen by a haughty Impundulu before she even had the chance to make her move. The recent incident with the vampire harpy was still fresh in her mind, and it left her in a rather unpleasant mood. “If it wasn’t for her… ugh…” Her disgust was not simply her own; recently, a large number of Impundulu had migrated to the region, and many were swiftly snatching up men without any care as to who may have had interest in them first; if they were ostensibly single, and caught their fancy, they were little different from small game to a falcon.
Having one for a best friend didn’t help change her views of them much either.
“You could’ve warned me that bloodnut was out for him, Milt. But oh no, you just wanted to see what I’d do…”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re indecisive,” came a new voice, the tone rather mischievous. Anya only grunted in response, long since giving up on being startled by her friend’s sudden appearances. For an Impundulu, she was rather friendly, preferring to chat with people rather than strike lightning at them. Nevertheless, even the slightest provocation would send Milt into a vindictive retaliatory state, lashing out at her offender and leaving them as worse for wear as any individual attacked by an Impundulu.
“What do you want, Milt?” Anya responded without shifting her gaze.
“How cold,” the vampiric harpy quipped, planting herself down next to her serpentine friend. “Oh? Is that some of that ‘Sealed Sea Ivory’ the mermaids keep going on about?”
“Yes. Doesn’t look particularly special… looks more ominous than anything.” She sighed, and placed the twisted shard down beside her body, near her cotton shirt and leather pouch. The lamia laid there silent for several moments, until Milt grew agitated.
“Aaah,” she growled in frustration at her friend’s brooding. “There’s no use moping about on the beach, you know! You gotta get out there, really hunt for some nice guy. Don’t take no for an answer, seduce him, make him feel real good!” Milt sat up, thumping her fist to her generous chest, a positive, eager expression on her face. At that, Anya rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to face the Impundulu.
“You of all people know my luck with the opposite sex,” Anya muttered, her expression far from buoyed. “Besides, my breasts aren’t as big as most men prefer…” she trailed off, using her free arm to insecurely grope her own chest. Milt cast an incredulous glance at the lamia’s bust. Even after all the time they’d known each other, Milt could still not comprehend her friend’s insecurity about her generously endowed breasts, the secret envy of many a woman in the town she lived. Supple and perfectly rounded, they were sizable, but none oversized. Perky and springy, they attracted the gaze of most men who laid eyes upon her. To which she simply passed off as “standard male reactions to any sort of breasts.” How Anya interpreted perfect as substandard, Milt could not even begin to comprehend. Not to mention that she was concerned over her bust, and not her species. Some men indeed found a serpentine lower body… unusual. It didn’t help that she was naturally indecisive when it came to the opposite sex.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Milt muttered, shaking her head in disapproval. She then grasped the wrist of Anya’s free hand, and suddenly hauled her to a ‘standing’ position. “Come on then, let’s get you hooked up!” Milt giggled. Anya shot her a lopsided look.
“What are you on about?” she responded.
“Come on, you need a mate, right? So, I’m gonna help you get one, teach you the ins and outs of flirting.” At that, the lamia pulled her hand from her friend’s grip.
“First off – and no offence – an Impundulu helping out another woman? When the demon lord herself pays me a visit. And secondly, I don’t need help. I just… you know, need to work things out,” she explained, somewhat uncertainly. The snake woman then turned around away from the water’s edge, slithering towards the grassy fields beyond the beach. “Anyways, see you later, Milt.”
As the Impundulu watched her friend slither back in the direction of town, she sighed.
“As stubborn as always, I see…” she muttered, before flapping her wings, and taking flight. It was time she got home… home to her darling Cyril.
Three leagues from Côteburgh, Milt’s nest…
“Ah, the spices are too bland,” a man muttered, sipping from a wooden ladle, a pot of boiling soup below on a wood fired stovetop. Tall, tanned, sandy haired and athletic in build for a man who spent a great deal of time in an Impundulu’s nest, the young male, nearly thirty, was busily working away at preparing that night’s meal. Much to his mate’s chagrin, he insisted upon doing the cooking most of the time, finding it to be his second biggest love in life. Behind him, a fluttering sound was heard, wing beats blowing air against the nape of his neck.
“I’m back, Cyril~” came Milt’s musical greeting. The youthful man, Cyril, smiled, and turned to greet his wife.
“Welcome back, dear,” he answered, leaning into Milt’s approaching stride to plant a kiss upon her lips. Normally such an action would devolve into a completely all-out battle to determine who the better kisser was. It wasn’t unusual for that to further descend into passionate intercourse. But with a pot of soup bubbling away on the stove, his priorities were elsewhere… not that he minded a bit of ‘fooling around’.
“I see you’ve already got dinner on, dear,” Milt observed, her musical tone now somewhat tinged with a hint of displeasure. Impundulu were by nature very hospitable to their mates – so long as the relationship didn’t sour into one where the Impundulu was a domineering mistress and the mate her servant – and as such, they found being the one served instead of the host rather awkward. Cyril loved that, the way Milt would fidget and overly preen her feathers as she watched him prepare their meal. It was growing late in the day, the sky – what he could see through the ‘windows’ of the thorny fortress that was their nest – turning orange as the sun dropped low. Nevertheless, their meal would still be rather early for teatime. It often was when he cooked; Milt liked to ‘punish’ him for ‘shaming’ her as a host. He hardly minded her dominant mate’s penchant for carnal activities. He freely admitted that he was a man, and thus revelled in any sort of sexual act that was thrust upon him.
“Of course, love,” he teased in return, chuckling as he turned his attention back to the simmering pot of soup, sprinkling in some extra coriander. Milt sauntered over, leaning above the pot to inhale a deep whiff of his fine cooking.
“Mmm… it smells wonderful,” she admitted. Despite finding it distasteful not being the host, Milt could hardly deny her mate’s talent for culinary masterpieces. She smiled, and brushed her feathers against him suggestively, traipsing over to the nearby table they had long ago bought from Côteburgh; a fine work of craftsmanship, hewn from driftwood, lacquered to preserve it and, most impressively, held together by bolts of Sealed Sea Ivory, the white metal contrasting even the sun-bleached grey of the driftwood. The intensity of flame needed to shape the metal was almost impossible to achieve without utilising a spell to aid in metalsmithing. Not only that, the quantity of Sealed Sea Ivory needed would’ve required time and a reasonable sum of coin to purchase, as its rarity, whilst not exceptional, still made it uncommon in large quantities; never was it found in seams or veins in the rock, and rarely were pieces larger than fists. It would’ve cost a pretty penny and the couple probably would never have afforded it, were Milt not able to exercise her womanly charm on the elderly craftsman. It wasn’t a total loss for the old man; it was a hobby project, and money was of little importance to him, only his work. Having a pretty young mamonme flirt with him was just a little persuasion to drop the price to a more reasonable level.
So lost in her admiration for the dominating piece of furniture, she was startled when Cyril passed by her with pot in hand, setting it down on a ceramic plate sitting in the middle of the table, placing small wooden bowels on either side, their seats little more than wicker stools. Milt herself sat a small distance from the table’s edge, so as to give her room to manoeuvre her wings. Her mate passed her a wooden spoon, and she took it with a smile, before turning her voracious appetite to Cyril’s soup without further preamble. Sure, it wasn’t as delicious to her as blood, but when prepared by her mate, it was a close second. Cyril would soon join her in the meal, albeit at a much slower pace. After a few minutes, the human spoke up.
“So, what was your day like?” he asked.
“Oh, the usual, seeing how Anya’s doing… stubborn girl, she’ll never get a mate at this rate,” Milt responded somewhat exasperated.
“Oh, the lamia… yeah, I heard she had bad luck with men.”
“Bad luck, maybe, but she’s so indecisive. I doubt she could even take a man by force, let alone seduce him. But oh no, it’s always, ‘I’m fine, I don’t need help, I can do it on my own, blah blah blah.’ It’s maddening how stubborn she can be,” she mimicked in a mock tone. Cyril tapped his spoon upon the side of his bowl in contemplation.
“Well, perhaps she just needs time… after all, even mamonme experience love in different ways… after all, I remember how flustered you were when you first snatched me~” he teased, causing Milt to immediately blush.
“I-I did not!” she stammered. “I was just… inexperience, that’s all.”
“Haha, it was cute though, seeing you fidget like tha—“
He was cut off by a ‘slap’ across his face with her feathers, making him snigger. “Alright, that was uncalled for. You were saying?” Milt eyed him narrowly, before sighing.
“If she doesn’t find a mate soon, I worry for her. After all… I know how much she really wants a child… if she doesn’t find a lover, I fear for her mind. I mean, some mamonme can go for decades before finding the right man, but she’s been around them so much and been so indecisive about it, not to mention her string of bad luck, that I’m concerned she may grow depressed… especially with the festival in a week’s time. If she doesn’t establish a relationship then, she might let her mind sink into dark thoughts,” Milt explained, before deflating a little upon her seat. “Ah… I don’t think she realises how much I care.”
“Well, you know how she is. You’re her best friend after all,” Cyril stated. “She’s very stubborn from what I’ve heard. Perhaps I could meet her, help her out with her issues with the opposite sex. I am one of them after all. I can provide a fresh perspective.” Milt eyed him dangerously.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned. Cyril threw his hands up in mock defence.
“Alright, alright. But, this festival. It only happens once every a hundred years, right? Celebrating the good fortune of the Sealed Sea? I heard it’s very romantic.” Cyril took a sip of his soup.
“Which is the problem… if she can’t get a man in that environment… she’ll suffer in the mind… ah, this topic’s getting me all agitated,” Milt muttered, getting to her feet and ruffling her feathers. She turned her red eyes upon her mate, and gestured to him. “I’m going to bed… don’t take long joining me~” And with that, she walked off, heading to their ‘nest’ bed. Cyril smiled, and quickened the pace of his sipping; he hardly wanted to let her wait…
--------
Week later, Heavens above Praxis…
“… this is the source of the signal?...”
“… undoubtedly. See the scans? There’s a massive crater in the planet’s crust. Appears to have formed an inland sea…”
“… but… if that’s where the Rivieara crashed, then…”
“… then there is nothing left to find. It was a ghost signal, we knew that much… but the evidence was clear, the violence of the impact…”
“… nevertheless, we cannot ascertain for certain, even with the systems on board… we need to go down there…”
“… land? But sir, mission parameters state…”
“… I’m well aware of protocol. But this isn’t some simple distress call… this is the Rivieara... something happened thirty years ago… or perhaps twenty five thousand years… we don’t know… we need to find out… that’s worth breaking observation directives…”
“… understood, sir, but what of local societies? Geo-Scans indicate cities down there…”
“… proceed as usual. Exercise EXCLUSIO Protocol. I want no incidents unless in self-defence, is that clear? We avoid interaction as much as possible. If noticed, we a myth, nothing more… understand?...”
“… affirmative. When do we make landfall?...”
“… Immediately…”
-----
Same day, Coteburgh…
The festival had been a disaster for the lamia. She had even gone and dressed up in a kimono from all the way in Zipangu, ready to strut her stuff… and she got cold feet the moment she closed in. Reduced to little more than a nervous, stammering child, the men at the festival, all in their fancy attire and youthful prime, saw her as cute rather than womanly. Now, coiled around a tree in one of the quieter open gardens, she grumbled angrily to herself, whilst also attempting to hold back tears.
“Damn it, Anya… they’re just human men. They’re supposed to be the one’s nervous around the beautiful monster, not the other way around!” she cursed herself, sniffling slightly. That made her even more agitated; she hated getting all emotional. It felt to her like a show of weakness, and the last thing she wanted was to be pitied. She hated help from others. She wanted to show that she was capable enough to do anything herself. Which was why she found Milt’s constant attempts at ‘hooking her up’; Anya knew she meant well, but she wanted a mate, and that entailed getting to know them, courtship… she didn’t want someone else to fast track a relationship for her. She sighed out again, muttering under her breath as she looked to the sky. No clouds marred to view of the starry vista, the moon in its midnight position. Sighing out wistfully, she pondered what it was like, out there in the Heavens among the gods and angels. It must be a beautiful world, beyond.
“I thought I’d find you here,” came another voice. Anya turned, and sighed when she locked eyes with the wife of the Mayor, a beautiful human woman, middle aged, with short red hair, gentle, modest curves, blue eyes and a kind smile, few wrinkles marring her beautiful visage. She wore a white, lacy dress, conservative and graceful.
“Hello Marie,” Anya responded dejectedly. The lamia had known Marie for only a few months, but they had formed a lasting friendship from their mutual affection for children. Anya would often help busy, stressed mothers care for their young ones, and would often still assist and be assisted by Marie, running a local ‘babysitter’ business. She enjoyed her job a great deal, but it also remained a constant reminder of a lack of her own child. It was growing frustrating.
“Mmm, chin up,” the human responded with a kind yet concerned smile. “You look better when you smile.” Anya simply grunted in response, and returned her attention to the sky above. Marie sighed, and leaned up against her lamia friend coiled around the tree, similarly gazing at the stars. “They’re beautiful tonight.”
“Yeah… it’s pretty awe inspiring… each little star… jewels of the gods. What a paradise it must be out there. Ah, to be a divine…” she trailed off dreamily. Marie chuckled, and Anya eyed her curiously. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, just your fantasy about the heavens,” Marie said. At Anya’s questioning glance, Marie giggled, bringing a gloved hand to her lips. “I’m observant you know… you often talk about a prince from Heaven coming down to make you his bride as your ideal fantasy… and then, you and your dashing divine prince would explore the cosmos, in everlasting happiness.”
“Well, uh… yeah,” Anya said, blushing in embarrassment, unsure of what to say now. It was true that she wished to be up there, among the stars… but it was something of a childish dream, really. And she didn’t like seeming childish in front of people. Marie patted her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. I know how you are,” Marie assured. Anya looked to the human with an unreadable expression, before returning to the sky.
“Mmm, but it would be nice… to be free among the stars,” Anya remarked. Then, she would notice a small streak of fire across the sky, a tiny lance against the inky, speckled blackness. “Hey… shooting star.”
“Best make a wish then, Anya~” Marie suggested playfully. Anya smirked, and closed her eyes.
“I wish for love… preferably from the heavens,” she thought, opening her eyes to watch the sliver of fire traverse the sky.
“What’d you wish for?” Marie asked.
“I’m not telling you. Otherwise it won’t come true,” the lamia retorted. Marie threw up her hands in mock defence and giggled.
“Ay, true, true,” she admitted, smiling warmly all the same. Anya loved her smile… it had power, she’d seen it before. A crying child with a skinned knee would be quieted by that calming visage. It was one of the things she loved about this place; the people were beautiful and genuine. She sighed, and returned her attention yet again to the sky… and noticed the shooting star had not disappeared. She found that odd. Most shooting stars lasted a good few seconds before evaporating into the night sky, but this fiery streak was still going strong. Eventually, half way down towards the mountains to the north along the coast, it dissipated, leaving the sky empty of motion yet again.
“Well, I guess it’s a good omen when it lasts that lo—“
Anya would be cut off as a loud bang, far off and without source, rang out through the sky. Marie would be startled, grasping at Anya’s upper arm for support as she stumbled. Dogs would start barking, but no further sounds were heard.
“What in the hell was that?” Marie cursed, something which took Anya by surprise. She rarely cursed, unless truly surprised or angry.
“I… don’t know,” the lamia responded. For a moment, everything seemed quiet, but when it became clear that no more booms would sound, the sounds of distant partying would once again return, though Anya still remained on edge. It was out of nowhere, and as far as she could tell, had no source whatsoever. It wasn’t earth-shatteringly loud, but it was certainly heard over the merry-making in the town’s centre. Whatever it was, it made no more rude interruptions.
“Well, I shall be returning home,” Marie said. “I do think I should be in bed… besides, that little… ‘surprise’, has left me a little anxious.” Turning around to the path between two buildings on which the garden was adjoined, Marie waved goodbye and sauntered off to her own home. Once again alone, Anya sighed. Asides from that startling bang, the night was rather dejecting, the lamia failing to find any man she was attracted to that she could actually approach. With a wistful exhalation, she uncoiled from around the tree, gazing once more to the heavens, remembering her wish.
“Just once, anyone, please make my wish come true.”
And with that, she slithered off to home.
Ten miles south of Coteburgh, Carrefour Hill…
“It’s a nice little town, isn’t it?” a female spoke, her tone and voice devious and almost… inhuman. And evil.
“For one thousand people, I’m not sure ‘little’ is the best term,” a man retorted, his voice raspy, but no less darkly corrupt. The two figures, gangly and ashen, looked upon the bright lights of the distant town of Coteburgh, their one hundred year festival a practical beacon against the darkened landscape, the shimmering light of the moon’s reflection upon the Sealed Sea rippling in the distance to the right of the town. The woman chuckled.
“No matter… it’ll burn all the same. And once we have control over the region, then our influence will finally start to grow… much trade goes through this town… and soon, it will go through us,” the woman assured. The man let out a raspy grunt.
“Do not forget yourself. Our numbers are limited. They outnumber us three to one. And we have next to no reserves to call upon,” the man advised.
“You worry so much over so little… what are mermaids and humans to us? They have only a handful of guards… the fools, so content with their peace, have neglected a garrison… that is their mistake.”
“So you say… if it is as you will, then I shall muster the troops. We can attack tonight.”
The woman waved her hand dismissively at that statement.
“No. Even if it is a festival, they are all out. In one place, yes, but they are much more easily defended. What’s more, they completely overwhelm the docks; they’ll escape quickly, for they are good swimmers and sailors.” The woman turned to the man. “And if you muster what forces we have for an attack tonight, then they shall outnumber us ten to one. No… we will secure our holdings first. Then… we make them afraid. They will trickle out slowly… and we will have the roads. The nearest refuge is to the south of here, Bastion. That place is renowned for its walls and its guard… I would not attack it with three thousand men, let alone three hundred. But this hill lies between here and there, and overlooks the crossroads… they will have to pass here… and they will not go further,” she explained, a wicked glee creeping into her voice.
“What if Bastion sends forces?” the man asked gruffly.
“They won’t. Bastion is known for its defence, but that’s all it’s known for; the nobility there are far too spineless to do little more than patrol the region several leagues beyond their walls. Coteburgh is far too distant from them to lift a finger. We will have free reign… and once we bleed them dry, then we strike.”
“I see… then, by your leave, mistress?” the man asked, bowing.
“Mmm… you may retire. So shall I.”
And with that, the two figures would melt into the shadows behind the hill, their scheme ready to be set in motion.
------
In the dawn light of the following morning, Escarpé Mountains…
“… so… these little fragments are all that’s left…”
“… yes sir. They’ve suffered tremendous violence from the impact. Remarkable they’ve been preserved so well…”
“… likely from the fusion of the molecules, no doubt. The heat would’ve been tremendous…”
“… indeed sir, but if preliminary theories are correct, this impact would’ve started an Ice Age…”
“… flame and fire, then ice and cold… such is nature’s fury, I suppose. What of the fireteams?...”
“… establishing perimeter patrol as we speak sir. Exercising EXCLUSIO Protocol. But the scientists are requesting clearance for landfall…
“… of course they would… well, give them clearance. Send up the dropship. This time, a less aggressive entry. I don’t want to telegraph our presence again…”
“… affirmative sir. Also, I’ve issued Fireteam Alpha 3-7 to deploy with the second dropship trip…
“… so that makes four fireteams now… that should cover our bases… still… to think all that remains are these little shards of battle plating…”
“… the scientists will likely try to find as many fragments as possible, find out all they can…”
“… then let them. Our mission is to find out just what happened. Their role is the finding out… our role is making sure nothing, nothing, interferes with that task… dismissed…”
------
Coteburgh, Anya’s residence…
The lamia stirred, groaning as the sun’s morning rays invaded her room. Her eyelids flittered open, feeling the sleep collected in the pits of her eyes. She sat up, letting the sheet slip off her frame, revealing her naked torso. She rarely, if ever, wore clothes; nude was a much more comfortable preference for the serpent woman. She made a chewing motion with her jaw as she slowly grew aware of her surroundings. With a yawn, she slithered out of bed, heading for the bathroom. Dipping her hands in the wash basin, she gave her face a gentle soak, rubbing the herb-infused water into her skin. Sighing softly, she would leave her bathroom, heading to her kitchen. Opening her pantry, she fished out some salted crackers, before retrieving some brine-preserved ham. Living in this town, one grew used to salted meats, both fish and mammal. Not that it bothered Anya. With small slices of shaved ham upon each cracker, the hastily put together meal would constitute her breakfast. After two dozen such combinations, Anya would wash it down with a glass of cold milk, cooled by being suspended in water overnight in a cold box. It was a usual routine for her, finding little need to cook herself anything fancy at the start of the day. It wasn’t that she was incapable; she just saw no need when she was tired and grumpy. Finally returning to her bedroom to slip on a cotton shirt and loincloth, the latter securely tied around her waist. With her morning ritual complete, all that was left was to head out to the beach to bathe… but upon opening her front door, she was surprisingly greeted by her Impundulu friend, Milt.
“Milt?” she questioned. “What are you doing here?” She eyed her friend over, and noticed her excited expression. “What is it?”
“Something really cool!” she exclaimed excitedly. Anya’s response to the vague statement was a deadpan expression.
“Can you be more specific?” Milt gave a sheepish look.
“Well… a merchant with a Harpy wife said she saw something ‘fall from the sky’ down near the mountains to the north!” the Impundulu explained. Anya’s look was incredulous.
“Something ‘fell from the sky’?” she asked sceptically. Milt nodded vigorously.
“He swears on the un-laid egg of his wife, she saw something fall from the sky in the mountains. She was on a long flight, exploring the region, and saw it, all shiny in the moonlight, disappear somewhere in the crags… we should go see!” Anya was taken aback.
“What?!” she blurted out.
“We should go there, and see what it is! It’ll be fun!” Milt insisted. Anya stared dumbfounded at her friend.
“But you know how far the Escarpé Mountains are from here?” Anya asked, bewildered. “It’d be dusk by the time we reached the foothills cross country! I can’t fly. And that’s without rests.” Milt shook her head dismissively.
“Not to worry, I have a boat already chartered. The man can take us to one of the inlets at the base of the mountains. If we leave now, we’d be there by noon,” Milt explained with optimism. The lamia shot her a lopsided look, before looking to the sun, steadily rising above the rooftops. This was all very sudden, even for Milt. A cross-country trip? To the mountains? Anya wasn’t sure how to respond. On one hand, the lamia was certainly not ready for such an ‘adventure’. On the other hand, Milt seemed pretty adamant on making the journey, and Anya knew the Impundulu would not be easily dissuaded to go without her. After a few moments of silent contemplation – and Milt’s piercing, expectant stare – Anya threw her arms up in exasperation.
“Alright, alright! But only because you’d nag me to death over it,” she growled. “Let me get a few things.” At Milt’s excited whoop, the lamia winced, before slithering back inside to grab some select items; her pouch (which still held the shard of Sealed Sea Ivory), a sheepskin flask for water, a knapsack and a cloak for when it got cold. Being a lamia, she was largely unaffected by prolonged exposure to the sun, thus she did not need to grab any other clothes or a hat. Residents knew well that with bounty came consequence, many who worked without hats under the blazing sun being somehow poisoned by the very thing that granted life… no one was sure how it worked, but once rampant, it ate away at them… nothing short of magic could heal them. Fortunately, most were aware of this, and knew to rub aloe vera extract upon their skin, wear clothes to cover their bodies, and hats to shield them from the suns poisonous rays. With that somewhat morbid thought, she packed some preserved meats, before joining her friend waiting outside. “I’m ready,” she said. Milt clapped her wings together.
“Splendid! We leave right away!” she stated excitedly. With a quiet, indignant groan, Anya would slither after her.
“The sun is barely up,” Anya remarked. “Why would a merchant be spreading stories this early? Only the fishermen wake to work. And why would you be awake to hear them?” Milt shrugged.
“Oh, I didn’t go to sleep at all last night. Cyril was asleep, so I was bored and still full of energy,” she said, smirking. “Poor Cyril. He gets so exhausted when we have sex~”
“Lovely.”
“What can I say, I’m a sultry woman~ He can’t resist me~”
“Not the point I was making.”
With a soft sigh, Anya resigned herself to the fact this would be a long day. At least she did enjoy Milt’s company, to an extent. Perhaps this trip would prove rather exciting.
Little did she know, this trip was going to prove far, far longer than she could ever have anticipated… and substantially more profound.
Inlet along the Sealed Sea Shoreline, base of the Escarpé Mountains…
As Milt waved goodbye to the generous bargeman who’d ferried them to the mountains, Anya looked up at the imposing mountains before her. It was mid Spring, so the barest caps of snow topped the rocky points, but she knew it’d be no less freezing up there. Fortunately, their destination lay far from their peaks, and the feet of the mountains were relatively easy to traverse, especially for a flier and a serpentine body.
“Alright, let’s get going!” Milt exclaimed giddily, a backpack filled with supplies slung over her back. They expected this trip to last no more than a single night, so they had packed little; Just enough for lunch, dinner and breakfast the following day. Milt had packed a flame stone to keep them warm at night, so bedding was little issue; they could sleep on the beach, the sand soft and fine enough to be comfortable… so long as they kept as high as possible, and out of the reach of the tides.
“Alright then,” Milt chirped, fluttering over to her friend. “Let’s get this show on the road!”
Anya looked at her overexcited friend, spying an arc of static playing across her feathers; the electric Impundulu were quite capable of shocking someone to temporary paralysis, or worse, with a bolt of electricity. Milt, however, when particularly excited, sexually or otherwise, would generate static that arced over her body without even thinking of it. Since she was the only Impundulu Anya knew intimately, she wasn’t sure if this was just a quirk of her friend’s, or a trait shared across the Impundulu race. Either way, caution was advised, because static shocks from Impundulu, even if passive, had bite; on more than one occasion had Anya ended up with a numb arm from her friend accidentally brushing her wings against the Lamia in her excitement.
“Hold up there. We have to take this slow, alright? I don’t want you leaving me behind,” Anya stated with a hint of annoyance. “You’re the one who dragged me along on this trip after all. You stick with me.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll be right with you~” she said, almost in sing song. Anya gave Milt a sideways glance.
“Since when has she been so fascinated with heavenly objects?” the lamia thought. “I figured that was my obsession.”
With a shake of her head, she sighed and shook her torso to loosen up the muscles.
“Alright then, let’s get going. You lead the way though,” Anya said, since she had no idea where this place was. Milt winked and chuckled.
“You can leave it to me~” Milt chimed in, her excitement clearly evident. Flapping her wings, she took flight, moving on ahead until she was almost out of eyesight, whereupon she would perch upon a rock and wait for her friend, whom deftly slithered over the rough, rocky terrain. And so began their journey, traversing the stony, craggy ground at the base of the mountains. There was little to see, save for the Sealed Sea glittering not far below them, the sun high in the sky. A smile crept onto Anya’s face; she was actually starting to enjoy this, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves against the beach in the distance, alongside her friend’s constant, delighted chattering. After an hour of climbing over rocks and boulders, Anya decided to ask a question.
“So, what did this harpy say it looked like?” the lamia asked.
“She didn’t,” was the Impundulu’s response, hovering in the air in front of Anya.
“What do you mean, she didn’t?” Anya questioned critically.
“All she said was it looked shiny and metal. She got so excited, she flew back right away,” she answered.
“Did she at least see where it landed then?” Anya was giving her friend an annoyed stare.
“Not exactly,” Milt muttered. “But she did get the general area, so we should be fine. Something like that doesn’t just vanish… I wonder if it’ll make good jewellery… I could get rich~”
“Yeah, I bet you would’ve thought that,” Anya murmured.
They would travel yet another hour, before finding themselves traversing parallel to the edge of a cliff, which dropped down into a ravine with a river that ran inland at the bottom, flowing in from a nearby inlet. Anya was cautious to stay clear of the edge; it looked far from stable, and she didn’t want her life to end so soon. Suddenly, Milt dropped down from the sky, shaking excitedly.
“I saw it, I saw a glint!” she exclaimed. Anya turned to her friend with a raised eyebrow.
“You did? Where?” she asked.
“Just over this ridge… oh, I can smell the fortune now…” the Impundulu trailed off dreamily. “Me and Cyril… king and queen of a merchant empire…”
“You fantasise more than I do,” Anya quipped. Milt blushed and gave her friend a sheepish look. They eventually came upon the ridge, a little close to the cliff’s edge. That was when Anya suddenly stopped.
“What is it?” Milt asked. Anya shushed her.
“Quiet… listen,” the lamia whispered. As they both went as silent as possible, they soon heard what Anya had; voices. They sounded slightly distorted, some of them, quiet, perhaps barely audible for a human, but unlike normal snakes, a Lamia’s sense of hearing was quite excellent. They looked at each other, confused; it was no language they recognised, let alone understood. It sounded nothing like any dialect they’ve ever heard, not even the far off language of the Zipangu nation. The two mamonme crept up the ridge, peaking their heads over the top… and let their jaws fall agape upon laying eyes on the sight below; nestled upon a rocky plateau atop the crest of a hill which lead down to an inlet below, the slope shallow enough to walk up and down, was a dull grey, metallic… ship.
That was the only way she could describe it. It was a vessel of some sort. Not particularly massive, but larger than even their biggest fishing vessel, at least a hundred feet in length. This vessel, however, was no boat; its shape was hardly ship-like sleek and angular yet boxy and ungainly. It had four bulbous extrusions upon the top and sides, two to the port and starboard (she assumed), based on the tapered ‘prow’ at the end, where it seemed to form an angular, almost shark-like head. The underside sharply slanted up towards the rear, revealing a ramp that acted as a hatch, exposing the interior… which, further, was unlike anything the lamia had ever seen, a large spacious cavity in the belly of the craft. It didn’t extend the whole length, but it was certainly enough to fit a few merchant carriages with ease. Underneath the ‘chin’ of the front of the vessel was a circular mounting, with twin pipes protruding from it. It was utterly foreign to both the mamonme observing… and then, they turned their attention to the people… at least, they assumed they were people. The two Anya had heard were still chattering away, huddled around a table with a projected image… a three dimensional model of the sealed see… some impressive magic. The beings were tall and armoured, clad in a dark, grey black, mottled metal ‘carapace’, their helmets swept back, a dull glow where the eye slits would be. There were others two, pacing along the crags and the boulders around the site, holding long, angular rods, akin to a guardsman with a crossbow… just, without the cross part of it. Their heads swivelled, seemingly scanning their surrounds… patrolling… watching for intruders.
Like them.
Anya slipped down out of site, grasping Milt by the shoulders.
“We have to get out of here!” her voice was lowered, but harsh and urgent.
“B-But, Anya… look at them… I think…” she leaned in, lowering her tone to a true whisper. “I think they’re from the Heavens.”
“That’s ridiculous! Not even the richest of knights have amour that dark; you think Angels would have something so bland?” Anya retorted. Even saying that, the armour they wore seemed to cover far more of their body. The plating was far more segmented than was typical, far more flexible. They didn’t seem weighed down by it, and held themselves with an air of discipline. And, admittedly, she had no idea really what angels wore in heaven… but she knew in her gut these weren’t the soldiers of the Goddess, and certainly not agents of the Demon Lord, nor anyone else of power in this world.
“Even so… think about the meaning!” Milt was growing ever more excited, prompting Anya to remind her to keep her voice down with severe shushing. “Sorry, it’s just… if they’re travellers from heaven, who knows what power they have?”
“Exactly, which is why we need to leave, we don’t know what kind of people they are—“
Anya was suddenly cut off by a livid shrieking from high above, her attention then drawn to the skies as a feathered being – another Impundulu – dived upon the gathered armoured men below, a bolt of lightning striking out and hitting one of the guards in the leg, knocking him down out of shock. She swooped another, staggering them as she took once more to the skies. Circling above, she began to make another pass. Anya knew this sort of behaviour; the vampiric harpy’s nest was likely close by, and Impundulu defended their nests with particular viciousness. But this time, the unknown men had prepared themselves; one of them bounded up upon a boulder with swift ease, shouldering the butt of his crossbow-esque weapon, and taking aim. In the next moment, blue flashes sparked from the weapon’s tip, bolts of electric blue energy lancing through the air with speed like no arrow, and matched by few spells. Two of them hit their mark, one scoring the Impundulu in the wing, the other in her shoulder. There was a sickening flash of red as the flesh upon impact was immediately vaporised, a spray of blood squirting out from behind along with a puff of burning feathers. The Impundulu screamed in the greatest of agony, spinning out of control and plummeting towards the ground. She landed with a sickening crack, her other wing breaking from the impact. Anya there and then nearly vomited. Milt had gone ghostly pale. The injured Mamonme tumbled end over end in the crash, before rolling around in excruciating pain. Two more guards closed in, one of them being the shooter. Their weapons were trained on the writhing Impundulu, sparks of electricity arcing out at the rocks wildly. They approached cautiously, before a third marched over, yelling loudly in an authoritative tone. The two armoured guards backed down, but their weapons remained trained upon the injured, cursing, screaming Impundulu. Anya then slipped down below the ridge, as pale as a person locked in a dungeon since birth.
“By the Goddess…” Milt uttered, her voice barely a squeak. Rarely did she use that phrase, and only with weight when she did.
“I can’t believe… they just…” Anya trailed off, before locking eyes with Milt and firmly grasping her shoulders. “We must leave now.”
“They just… they just… what kind of weapon was that?” Milt questioned in disbelief.
“It doesn’t matter, if we don’t get out of here, we’re—“
“AY!” a deep, commanding, vaguely distorted voice shouted, cutting Anya off and sending the coldest of shivers down her spine. Turning around, she found herself several feet away from another of the armoured guards, aiming his weapon at the duo. The two of them froze, her gaze locked with the glowing eyes of the faceless warrior before her, the helmet baring no facial features even as a means of intimidation… frankly, the helmet itself was terrifying enough. Anya backed up, unknowingly getting closer to the cliff’s edge. The man barked in his foreign language, motioning with his weapon for them to leave. He barked again, his voice slowly losing any sense of dialect, and devolving into simple unintelligible shouts… likely because he knew they couldn’t understand him. But it took no linguist to know they wanted them gone. But Anya couldn’t move. She was afraid. For the first time in her life, she was truly afraid. Not of loneliness, not of the future, but afraid of what was in front of her at that very moment. It stung her… how could she be so weak? She could spring towards him, coil around him, crush him, and… no. If she did succeed, help would come before she squeezed the life from him, and she would surely be killed along with her friend. Not only that, was it right for her to do so? He was only trying to warn them off… but what were they going to do? They had struck that Impundulu from the sky, and most disturbingly, her screams of agony had gone silent… if their intentions were malevolent, how could she sit by? As she pondered these questions in the split seconds that passed, she remained wholly unaware of her steady reverse towards the cliff… until she felt her centre of gravity shift, and her whole body tilt backwards.
“Huh?” she thought, so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t quite grasp the totality of the situation. “I’m… falling?” It seemed like an eternity before her screams of abject terror issued forth from her mouth, when it was mere moments. The last thing she saw before fear overwhelmed her senses and rendered her unconscious was Milt leaning over the side of the cliff, screaming in horror as her friend plummeted to her death… and an armoured warrior leaping over the edge after her…
-------
That same day, Carrefour Hill…
“The forces are ready, mistress,” the raspy, ashen man informed the gangly woman. A twisted smile formed at the corners of the malevolent female’s mouth.
“Excellent… as expected, our spies in Bastion report the ruling nobility are unwilling to lift a finger to problems beyond their reach… how this region has not fallen to lawlessness, I cannot fathom,” she uttered, sounding almost disgusted.
“The people here are peaceful, live well… they see no need to turn to a life of crime or petty banditry,” the man stated. The woman sneered, watching as a pair of her ashen-skinned subordinates beat a sandy-haired man raw, his face covered in bruises and cuts, blood trickling down his face.
“Hmph… it’s time we changed that then… has the prisoner said anything?” she asked, referring to the man below.
“No. He has proven remarkably… resilient, to our interrogation,” he explained. The woman huffed disdainfully.
“Fool thinks he is protecting people… he is merely prolonging his torment.”
“Do you wish to kill him, my mistress?” The man waited for her response, but she simply waved her hand dismissively.
“No… he may yet be useful. The ring he wore… he is obviously a husband… someone cares for him. Should they see him in this state, their tongue…” she trailed off, grinning evilly, “… may be far more loose~”
“I understand,” the man nodded, interpreting the implications in his mistress’ words; to keep him alive… barely.
“Make sure the marks don’t fade, Torin,” the woman added, a wicked smile upon her shrouded face.
“As you wish… Lady Jarvis…”
------
West of the Escarpe Mountains, ten leagues inland…
Anya didn’t know how long she was out… she didn’t know if she was even alive, the black swirling around her, and abyss of darkness… if this were the Afterlife, she wondered how long before the crushing nothingness sent her mad, and how long after before she simply faded from meaning and existence altogether?... that was, until she felt warm against her chest, and a non-existent weight lift from her eyelids. They fluttered open, thin rays of light beaming into her eyes through leafy foliage. Her vision was blurred, but she had other senses to rely upon; she distinctly felt the smooth pebbles of a riverbank upon her back, the sounds of gently running water to her right. The air was cool and moist… almost pleasant. Perhaps the afterlife was a paradise after all… and then her vision regained its clarity… and immediately, she locked eyes with the armoured man before her, running his fingers down between her cleavage, her shirt since removed. Her eyes widened. Her mouth drifted open slightly.
“Ah…” she uttered… before letting loose an ear-splitting scream. She slammed her palm against the side of his helmeted head – hurting herself more than him – and used her serpentine tail to smack him off her top, scooting backwards upon the ground in both terror and revulsion. With equal parts fear and disgust, she glared at the man, huffing.
“You… you…” she uttered, almost unable to find the word. “… you… SICK PERVERT!”
Covering her breasts, she glared at the armoured man, who was reorientating his bearings, shaking his head as he stood on hands and knees. He muttered grudgingly in his foreign tongue, before lightly punching the stone in exasperation. His gazed then whipped to hers, and from his body language, she could tell he was annoyed. How sick could he be? Getting angry at the woman he was molesting for defending himself… like he had a right to complain about such repulsive deeds.
It was then she became aware of a new sensation. She looked down in surprise, and the colour drained from her face upon seeing the deep, bloody gash between her breasts… half filled with this creamy, foamy substance. She wondered why she could only feel a numbing throb… and then realised her whole chest was numb, barely any stimulation or response when she touched it. She began to shake, a sudden sickness welling up in her gut.
“Wh-wha…” she muttered, confused. She poked the foamy substance in the gash upon her chest, and found it hard and slightly spongey. It was then that she realised what he was doing; the man wasn’t molesting her… he was treating her. As she thought that, she realised… he was here… she remembered falling… seeing him leap after her… the pieces slowly fell together.
“You… you saved me?” she said, almost questioningly. “But… why?”
The man didn’t answer, either not hearing, or ignoring, her statement. He bent over, picking up a small metal canister with a nozzle upon the tip. He approached her again, raising his hand in a placating – or rather, a ‘may I?’ – gesture. She was hesitant at first, before nodding and let her arms fall away from her breasts. Her face went cherry red; this was the first man in years that had seen the lamia’s breasts. It was bad enough that they weren’t perfect, but now this man was working right between them? It was almost too horrible to contemplate. But this man didn’t even seem to care, immediately applying more of the hardening foam to the gash. There was the barest of stinging sensations, and she winced through it. Once he had finished sealing the wound, she looked down at the bulging foam; it was unsightly, but far less ugly than an open gash. And what a wondrous ‘bandage’ it was. Still, her wonder did not distract her from her nakedness. Now though, she was wondering if his seeming lack of interest in her bust was professionalism and a duty of care, or simply a disinterest entirely. Either way, she wasn’t sure whether to be happy or dejected… nevertheless, he did his job, and she was glad for that.
“Th-thanks, I guess,” she muttered. The man, his armour making a strange, barely audible ‘virrrr’ sound as he moved, made a gesture, half in appreciation, and half in sarcastic exasperation. His work done, he sauntered over to a nearby pile of rocks, the top stone exposed to the sun, where her shirt was spread neatly upon the top. He picked it up and examined it, and once he was satisfied with how dry it was, he tossed it to her, before picking up his weapon. Anya flinched upon seeing it; she’d seen firsthand how vicious they were. She didn’t expect to be suddenly murdered, however; it made no sense to kill someone after healing them. Nodding in gratitude, she donned her shirt, and noticed, with relief, that her pouch and bag were still with her, if a little soaked. She slithered over to them, and slung them upon her body. Looking around again, she slowly realised that she had no idea where she was. Anya looked to the soldier.
“Any clue where we are?” she asked. He cocked his head in puzzlement, Anya muttering to herself, forgetting he couldn’t understand a thing she said. He himself had spoken nothing since she came to, other than a curse under his breath after she knocked him off her. The lamia surmised that he saw no point in speaking his language when the linguistic barrier would’ve prevented any sort of verbal communication beyond understandable sounds. Suddenly, Anya spotted him tapping the ‘temples’ of his helmet, before grumbling angrily and clenching his fist. The soldier then looked to her, and pointed.
“Y-yes?” she uttered, gesturing to herself to show understanding. His response was to point to himself, before throwing his arm behind his head, pointing his thumb upstream. It was clear to Anya that he wanted her to follow. The lamia was hesitant; after all, she hardly knew this unknown man, or his intentions… whether he was good or bad. But, then again, he had helped her. After some furious internal debate, she came to a decision, nodding vigorously.
“Alright… I’ll…” she trailed off, before making a walking gesture with her fingers and then pointing to him, “… follow.”
He looked at her, and, in a move that surprised Anya, chuckled at the unintentional irony of her statement, before turning around and heading up the slope of the riverbank. Looking upstream, Anya could see limestone cliffs with a cave carved by the stream in its face. Beyond, she could see light from a hole above, illuminating the churning waterfall that dropped down into the cavern below. Her stomach involuntarily churned; before she fell, she got a queasy look at the rapids of the river she was all too close too, down at the bottom of the drop. Now, she wondered how even he survived… but it seemed he had a number of tricks up his sleeve. She smiled absentmindedly; perhaps he would prove very interesting.
An hour’s trudging through the underbrush later, the duo eventually emerged from the rainforest-like woods, coming upon open grass fields. In the distance, Anya spotted what appeared to be a wooden sign post, pointed slats indicating the directions to nearby towns. Anya slithered ahead of her newfound companion, causing him to eye her curiously, marching close behind. Upon reaching the sign, Anya’s jaw dropped upon seeing how far it said Coteburgh was from their current location.
“T-ten Leagues?!” she stammered, looking to the metal-clad warrior. “We went ten leagues in a river? How did we get carried that far.”
The man cocked his head, and Anya growled in exasperation. “Ugh… this is going to be a massive pain in the ass.”
He grunted, before holding up his left forearm in front of him. From a little glass bead embedded in the gauntlet came a transparent, blue projection. Initially taken aback by the show of magic, Anya soon recognised it to be the same map projected from the table in the camp. Looking over his shoulder, she watched as he slung his weapon over his back, magically clicking into place without any visible restraints. He brought his other hand to the projection, and began manipulating the map as though he were a wizard simply with his index finger. She watched as he slowly zoomed in upon the land from a top-down view, until he eventually narrowed down their location, the crossroads flashing white on the map, seemingly based on extrapolation, rather than actually knowing it was here; she was impressed, being able to perform cartography with such ease on the move… and with such accuracy too. He then snapped off the projection, grabbed his weapon once more, and pointed with his left hand in the direction they needed to go. Something she already knew, but how would he.
“Alright,” she uttered, falling in behind him. She sighed out indignantly; it was going to be a long trip.
An hour later, the pair came across an unexpected find; an abandoned horse cart. Upon observation, Anya noted that it wasn’t simply derelict; part of it was burned, its canvas top ripped open, and its contents long since pillaged. There were no signs of cart’s horses or their master, and Anya wasn’t certain whether that was a good thing or not, but one thing was clear; bandits had been here. It made her cringe; bandits were largely unheard of in these parts, even this far inland.
“Hmmm… looks like all the valuables have been looted,” she noted, before her attention was suddenly garnered by her escort rummaging through the leftovers the bandits had decided weren’t valuable enough for their time. She wondered whether she should’ve told him it wasn’t particularly ethical to scavenge from raided merchant carts, but she decided against it. Conveying the message without knowing how to speak his language would’ve been difficult, and she didn’t particularly wish to get in his way. Suddenly, he would pull out a large book, examining it with interest. Anya immediately recognised it; a dictionary for the common language, something almost universally recognised across all of Praxis, so she had heard. Whether he even knew this or not, it did seem he understood what a book was, opening it up and flipping through a few pages… before freezing, and staring at the open book with fierce scrutiny… or at least, Anya assumed he was, behind the mask. Suddenly, he brought up his left arm again, setting down his weapon, the projection springing to life once again. This time, however, it was a list of words in his language… arranged in the layout of a dictionary. Anya was genuinely surprised, but then again, surely a man of Praxis would recognise a dictionary. Unless, of course… he really was from the heavens…
Glancing back and forth between the book and the projection, he suddenly nodded in understanding, before sitting down cross-legged upon the ground, placing the open book down in front of him, on the first page. Bringing his left forearm over the paper, a beam of light projected from the side, running up and down the two open pages. As Anya watched, she would see the pages’ writing appear upon the screen. The man began to flip the pages, the triangular plane of light sweeping up and down once, copying the words onto the projection above, the whole act taking only one second for two pages. And thus, Anya watched him turn each page, ‘pasting’ the words onto the projection each time. Whilst her wonder and amazement was genuine, she couldn’t quite understand what he was doing; what purpose was there to copying a dictionary? Perhaps it was for scholarly purposes… unusual for a soldier. She sighed as she waited, the process at least lightning fast as far as transposing literature went.
Ten minutes past, and finally, the soldier was finished his work. Snapping the book closed, he stood up, reaching around and opening a small box on the back of his waist, a pouch suddenly protruding from it. He placed the dictionary within, the pouch sealing immediately on its own accord. Bringing the projection from his wrist in front of his faceplate, he tapped an icon with his finger. Immediately, the two lists of words and their definitions appeared – his language and common tongue – side by side… and next, came a flurry of symbols and letters, moving too fast for Anya’s eyes to track, boxes and lines outlining words and their definitions, seemingly matching words from his language to common tongue, and vice versa. It finally dawned upon Anya what he was up to; translation. He was using some sort of spell to translate the two languages so he could communicate with her using words, instead of simple sounds and gestures.
However, judging from the speed – despite the chaotic mess of the whizzing symbols – at which the projection was going through the two lists, translation of enough words for even basic conversation would take time. He suddenly cut off the projection, grabbing his weapon once again and gesturing for her to follow. Anya nodded, still impressed by the show of magic she’d just seen… or perhaps it wasn’t. Being a mamonme, she could feel, sense magical power, especially if it was potent… all she got was a faint ‘buzzing’ sensation in her head when she was close to him, and even then, it didn’t feel like magical power. As far as that went, he was completely barren. A theory was formulating in her head… if he was, indeed, a man from the cosmos, beyond even that of heaven… perhaps they did not need magic. Perhaps this was simply craftsmanship for his kind… Anya flushed with excitement. If she was right… then mayhap her fantasies weren’t so confined to dreams anymore. As she slithered alongside her escort, she smiled out of his field of view… though it faded when the conflicting feelings of the day’s events once more pressed to the forefront of her mind. He had saved her from almost certain death, treated her as best he could… but still, she could not forget the dreadful sight of that Impundulu crashing from the sky, writhing and screaming in agony, a small, steaming crater of burnt flesh in her shoulder… and the silence thereafter. She didn’t know what happened to that Impundulu… and she didn’t know what happened to the one that had dragged her on this turbulent trip. Was Milt okay? Perhaps she escaped after he dived over the cliff to save a certain falling lamia… Anya didn’t know. She did, however, trust to hope that Milt was safe, and that, as she watched the sun gradually dipping towards the horizon, the sky awash with orange hues, that her own safety would be guaranteed, even in the presence of this soldier, whom so far, proved compassionate, if a little aloof and at times annoyed with his charge. She hoped that when, in a few hours, they turned in to make camp for the night, she would know more. Until then, she simply remained quiet, watching the disciplined soldier scan their surroundings for any signs of trouble, not as an expectation, but out of habit and training. If anything, he was very interesting.
As night fell, the soldier led Anya towards the edge of a nearby woodland area, and the duo made camp. Since Anya had only expected to sleep under the stars upon a beach, she hadn’t packed any bedding or a tent, and it seemed the soldier had neither as well. Grumbling, she also remembered that Milt had the flame stone… no fire tonight. Or at least, she expected no fire, but the man proved at least reasonably equipped for the few pouches upon his waist. Fishing a small box shaped object from a container, he pressed a button, and an inch long blue jet of fire-like energy protruded forth from its tip. He held the end of the stream an inch from a pile of sticks and bark, and the wood caught alight. With stones arranged in a ring to keep it from spreading, the fire crackled as night fully descended, the warmth comforting to the heat-loving lamia, a trait shared by all her brethren. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of another trait of her species; their appetite. She unslung her pack from her shoulders, and fished out a small cloth sack, filled with salted jerky. She loved jerky, especially if it was chewy. She then turned to the armoured man, and offered a stick of the dehydrated beef to him. He looked at it, and took it without hesitation; perhaps he was familiar with such food. He had seated himself on a log he’d appropriated as a makeshift chair, though earlier, Anya had to stifle a giggle as it cracked from his weight. With his free hand, he brought a finger to the side of his head, whereabouts his ear should be, and pressed a button. There was a click! and the helmet hissed short and sharp, before the faceplate and sides slid back, three separate pieces folding behind his head, the rest of his helmet remaining fixed to his armour and the back of his head. And immediately, Anya’s jaw dropped at the reveal; she had anticipated any number of appearances, even half expecting the armour to be the man, a mechanical entity like an automaton of dwarven fame.
Not a handsome humanoid with reptilian traits. He seemed fairly young, mid-twenties by human standards. His ears, still partly hidden by the very back of the sides of his helmet, appeared pointy and elongated, a common trait amongst reptilian people among the lands of Praxis. His eyes were yellow, the pupils vertical slits, much like those in the centre of Anya’s own emerald orbs. Scales creeped up from his neck, curling around from the back of his neck, mixing with normal skin, as well as around his brow and ears. As he put the end of the jerky stick in his mouth, she noted that, like a lizardman, his teeth were sharp, especially his canines. A small, pale scar ran up the side of his right cheek, like some clichéd warrior from a bard’s epic… other than being relatively subdued and short compared to the exaggerated marks of glory such tales embellish. He silently chewed upon the jerky stick, his eyes focused on the campfire.
“Do you like it?” Anya asked. The man looked at her, before pressing the button on the side of his helmet once again. The sections once more slid into place, hiding his face yet again. Anya gave an annoyed look, thinking he was being aloof again.
“<It is good>” he said. Anya’s eyes shot open, and she stared at the man, now able to speak. Was the translation complete already? Then why did he sound different; compared to his speech before, young yet gruff, this was much more distorted, flat, emotionless. It didn’t sound like him at all. Then Anya realised… he wasn’t speaking common tongue. His armour was somehow converting his own speech into something she could understand. That’s why he closed his helmet.
“W-wow… shame you can’t actually speak though… I’m guessing your armour’s doing the translation,” she stated. The man nodded.
“<Yes. It was fortunate your grammatical structure was similar to ours. I recognised that book was a dictionary, judging from its layout. If it worked the same way, then comparison and estimation would work out translation. Recording your voice also helped>” he explained. Anya gave him a lopsided look.
“Recording my voice?” she queried. The man nodded again.
“<Yes. The suit has been passively recording you this entire time. It aids in translation. Helps identify pronunciations of word parts. So the manual says>” he elaborated. “<Do not ask how. I did not produce the software. I only learned how to use it in the event of such a scenario, though it is tremendous luck to have found a dictionary, let alone a language structure so similar>” She stared at him, amazed by him.
“I didn’t get your name. I’m Anya,” she introduced.
“<An…ya…>” he enunciated, the word not being in his vocabulary until that point. “<Yes, Anya… I am Enik Ven>”
“Enik Ven? An unusual name,” she stated.
“<The same is true in reverse>” he stated. Anya shot him a look, though she silently admitted he was correct; from his perspective, she was the one with the unusual name.
“And, Enik… are you really… from the heavens?” she asked, excitement building up within her.
“<The Heavens? I do not follow>” he said. Anya shuffled closer.
“You know…” she trailed off, pointing to the sky, “from up there, beyond the world, among the stars.”
“<You mean space?>” he questioned.
“Well, er, if that’s what you call it, then, yeah, space.” Enik nodded.
“<Correct. I am from another world>” he confirmed. Anya’s excitement bubbled over. It was true. He was a man from the heavens… well, ‘space’, as he called it.
“That’s amazing!” she cried. “I have so many questions!”
“<Well… I will answer what I can>” he said, sounding uncertain.
“Oh, to be an explorer of the cosmos… what a paradise it must be!” she chirped giddily.
“<… Paradise?>” Enik queried.
“Of course! All those stars, twinkling in the sky… they must be beautiful! How much better is it out there?”
“<Better?>” He sounded confused.
“Well, yeah… surely, the realm of the divine is much more beautiful and tranquil than the mortal realms. Oh, to feel the warmth of those stars…” she trailed off. Enik cocked his head quizzically… before scoffing.
“<You have a poor understanding of space>” he stated bluntly. Anya’s excitement froze.
“What do you mean?” she asked. At that Enik sighed, and looked between his boots.
“<Space is not a paradise… it is cold, brutal. Merciless. It is unforgiving of mistakes and wayward travellers. Fly too close to a black hole, and the gravity will tear you to pieces. Wander too near a star, and the heat will incinerate you. Drift in proximity to a gas giant, and the radiation will fry you. There are many things in space that will kill you. It is not a cruel nature, it is simply unforgiving. You think your world pales in comparison to the beauty of others? You are a rarity. Not simply your world, life upon it. This galaxy is a harsh place for life to flourish. Your world is a gem among barren rocks and gaseous titans. You can live here, breathe here, eat here… the moon, in the sky? It is cold, and lifeless. You would die simply from the sub zero temperatures. Let alone the lack of breathable atmosphere, and protection from solar radiation>” he explained. “<You think space is a glorious paradise of gods and angels? It is not. It is cold and harsh. Life flourishes were conditions are just right. Were it is not, nothing lives>”
His blunt report caused the lamia’s excitement to dissipate entirely; all her life, she had dreamed of leaving this world to explore the realms beyond, to bask in the light of the stars… and now, this man, this explorer of the cosmos, tells her things are better where she is. That ‘space’ is no realm for the likes of a ‘silly girl’ with a ‘naïve dream’; he didn’t specifically state such, but the implications, despite the monotonous, artificial voice, were clear. It was… almost cruel. To have her views torn from her by cold, remorseless fact. She wanted to hit him. Her fists balled up… but she couldn’t do it. She knew he wasn’t lying. Enik’s understanding was the polar opposite of her own. Usually in such situations, the truth was hard to discern.
Not this time. He had experienced the heartless reality. It wasn’t an unfortunate experience for him. It was his job. He was a soldier of the people (of which, she still knew not the name of), and thus, wherever orders took him, he followed without protest. She grit her teeth, glaring at the flickering fire in front of her, the tip of her green-scaled tail twitching in anger. Anger that confused her; she had learned the truth, so why was it so painful? It couldn’t be lies, she knew that in her gut. Was it… because her fantasy, her dreams… had been crushed before her very eyes so coldly?
She didn’t know what to do, whether to hate Enik for being so heartless, or to hate herself for being so naïve… no. She couldn’t drop to that. She was strong. Self-loathing was weakness. Anya grimaced, determined to not let herself fall to such a level.
“<I will take watch>” Enik informed, seemingly disinterested in the conflict Anya was subject to. He shuffled over and grasped his weapon, adopting a sentinel posture overlooking the roads. “<You should sleep. It will be a long day tomorrow>”
Anya grumbled and glared. “Right, of course,” she growled. As she slithered over to a nearby tree, she looked to the otherworldly soldier. “Just one more thing… what are you?” she asked. “Your race.”
Enik’s faceless visage locked onto her piercing gaze.
“<I am of the Komodi. From the Planet of Axioma>” With that, he returned his attention to his watch. Anya scoffed.
“Of course… goodnight,” she said bitterly, slithering over to a tree and coiling around its trunk, wrapping her arms around its girth. As she rested her head upon the bark, she muttered angrily as she went to sleep… but couldn’t help a few stray tears run down her cheeks.
“<Hey. Wake up, Anya>” came the monotonous voice of the Komodi soldier, Anya feeling her shoulder being tapped by an armoured hand. Her eyes fluttered open, groaning as she cleared the sleep from her eyes with a free hand. Looking around, she noticed the sky was still relatively dark; the sun hadn’t even come up yet! And he was already waking? Did he even sleep? She grumbled unhappily, unwinding herself from around the tree. The lamia noticed the campsite had already been cleaned, and an apple from her pack had been fished out for her. She felt a pang of anger at him having gone through her things while she slept, not at all alleviated by last night’s revelations. Still, Anya couldn’t be too mad at him; it was a nice gesture, but she didn’t like having stuff done for her regardless. She slithered groggily over to the apple, grasping it and taking a bite out of it, whilst slinging her pack and pouch over her shoulders and waist. She looked to Enik, who was waiting a few feet away.
“<Ready?>” he asked.
“Do you ever sleep in?” she muttered grumpily.
“<No>” was his blunt answer.
“Didn’t think so.” Anya took another bite from her apple, slithering alongside the soldier. “Why are we up so early, anyways?”
“<I wish to get you home as soon as possible, so I may link up with my unit>” he informed. “<It is my obligation to escort civilians to safety>”
“Your obligation?!” she blurted out with a tinge of rage. Obligation? Civilian? She was a burden to him! Something he was institutionally required to perform. Was there any altruism to his efforts? Not only that, she felt Enik saw her as a ‘damsel in distress’, unable to fend for herself. That made a vein in her head throb. She grumbled in indignation, trailing slightly behind the soldier.
“Hmph,” she muttered. “I can handle myself.”
“<Nevertheless, I must escort you home>” he repeated. “<I am sure we will be safe. I have thermal optics, so I will be able to spot attackers on approach>”
His assurances didn’t dissuade Anya from her displeasure for the Enik. In only a single night, the Komodi warrior had gone from enigmatic wonder to someone Anya almost hated. He was blunt, aloof and uncompromising with his evaluations. And he seemed to view her as a burden. Nevertheless, she was stuck with him, so until such time she could part ways, she remained with him. As the sun peaked up over the horizon, the warmth providing the sluggish Lamia some invigoration, Enik suddenly piped up.
“<How is your wound healing?>” he asked. The sudden question of her welfare, after all her silent judgement and bitterness, was out of the blue… though not, admittedly, unwelcome. Truth be told, since late yesterday, the gash sealed with hardened foam on her chest had throbbed painfully, though it was at a moderate level, so she could tolerate it.
“It’s a bit sore, but I can manage,” she informed.
“<Good. Good. I am unsure how it occurred. I know you lost your shirt at some point, which is why it is not torn. I think you were cut on a sharp rock in the rapids>” he explained.
“Wait… you found my shirt?” she quizzed.
“<It washed up with us shortly after I pulled you onto the bank. It was no matter>” he stated nonchalantly. Anya grunted in response, but nonetheless silently thanked the man, despite his predilection for crushing dreams, intentional or not. She gazed sideways at Enik, this time more scrutinising his attire, rather than the man himself. The segmented ‘suit’, comprised of plates both large and small, moved fluidly and quietly, the only discernible noise being a soft ‘zi zi’ in tune with his movements, too quiet to compromise stealthy activity. It was equal parts convoluted and simplistic, areas that required limited or no flexibility covered by rigid plates, such as on the chest and arms and legs. It was around the joints the plates grew small and fluid, moving in graceful coordination, synchronised with the wearer’s movements; agile, protective, versatile. Perfect armour. Not to mention the various functions it performed; translating two languages, and converting one’s native tongue to another as they talked. Another thing that grabbed her attention was… well, its lack of flair. It was dull, unadorned and rather bland overall, despite its complexity. Most heavy knights wore armour that called attention to the wearers, both for intimidation, and to wordlessly boast of titles and deeds and allegiances, and – to a lesser extent – wealth. This armour was the complete opposite, the mottled darker shaded splotches and lines painted across its surface serving to further break up the outline. Combined with the way Enik carried himself, the way he spoke and his conduct, she was given the impression that he was, entirely, a rank-and-file footman. He was not a noble, an elite, or an honour guard. He was another soldier in the army… yet the gear provided to a simple soldier was beyond even that of great heroes of old, or so it appeared. And all of it, technology? She surmised his kind had no magical ability… but they made up for it in ways she couldn’t comprehend. So caught up in her analysis of his armour and all it could tell her of the Komodi, she almost bumped into it when Enik stopped. A startled sound left her lips as she stumbled to a stop to avoid smacking her forehead into the back of his helmet.
“Oi, I’m right here you know!” she complained. She heard an untranslated, exasperated sigh.
“<More complications>” he muttered, more to himself, and not to her. Curious, she peaked over his shoulder, and groaned; ahead, a river (likely the one that had carried them down so far from the mountains) carved a gash in the countryside, a one hundred foot drop on either side… and spanning that gap was an old stone bridge… or at least, it did. Now, the cobblestone bridge had collapsed, its debris crumbled into the river. She looked to either side of the ruined bridge; the deep carving in the landscaped continued for miles, various bubbling tributaries divvying up the landscape; the Racine River, its namesake derived from its small but numerous tributary streams, many of them violent rapids; it was likely one of those tributaries that carried them aloft. And the ruined, unassuming bridge before them was none other than the Solitaire Bridge; the only crossing over the Racine River for miles. This caused a thought to bubble up in Anya’s mind; Solitaire Bridge was old, yes, but decayed? Hardly. Rumours persisted that it was blessed with an enchantment of endurance, preventing its deterioration. And since the centuries old bridge had hardly ever chipped in its lifetime, its sudden collapse was… unusual. Thinking back on the abandoned cart from yesterday, Anya speculated; perhaps this was no inevitability of time.
“<We can cross here>” Enik piped up. Anya shot him a look.
“Are you mad?” she barked. Enik shook his head, and pointed down beside the ends of the ruined bridge.
“<Look there>” he said. Sure enough, he had marked out a set of old, definitely decayed stairs, running down the steep inclines on both sides of the river, running parallel with the banks. “<We can get down to the river, and cross it there. It is not that violent here>”
Anya looked some more, and grimaced; even still, the water nevertheless churned, and with the rapids flowing over the fallen debris of the bridge, being washed away would prove fatal, the crumbled stones of the bridge enough to break bones should one be raked over them.
“I hope you’re not seriously expecting me to swim,” she commented.
“<I’m not that stupid. Now, follow me, I will help you down>” he offered. Anya felt a pang of indignation. Help? Sure, she would need him to cross, but getting down? She wasn’t that useless. Enik sauntered over to the edge of the drop, and gestured for Anya to come over. “<It will be easier if you go first. Your larger body would make it difficult for me to help you down from the riverside>” Another pang of indignation. While he likely didn’t mean it offensively, Enik was often too blunt with his evaluation. Yes, she was big, but she was still a woman; it was rude to comment on their size. As the Komodi soldier offered his hand, Anya pushed it away.
“I’m not helpless,” she snapped. Enik held up his hands defensively.
“<Okay, okay. Just exercise caution>” he advised.
“Maybe you should follow your own advice…” she muttered under her breath. She decided to tackle the stairs in reverse, pressing her humanoid belly to the ground as she slowly lowered her serpentine tail foot by foot onto a sturdier looking step. Gradually, she took her weight off the grassy bank, and put it upon the step, slithering the rest of her tail down the rest of the steps, grasping at the broken roots of old steps embedded in the soil of the sharp banks. Suddenly, a split stone came free of the earth, and she felt herself slipping down towards the river.
“Shit!” she cursed, before feeling her entire body come to a painful halt, all her momentum travelling to the tip of her tail, all as she felt pain lance through her right arm from her wrist. Looking up, she saw Enik lying upon the ground, his gauntleted hand tightly clasped around her wrist.
“<You alright?>” he asked. Anya’s cheeks flushed red, before glaring.
“I’m fine!” she snapped, gently coiling herself up at the base, wrenching her wrist free of his grip, rubbing the tender joint. Enik followed after, clambering down the drop with relative ease.
“<Now then, to cross this river>” he stated. Bringing up his left forearm, the projection from before sprang to life. He initiated a ‘scan’, and shortly after, he snapped the projection off.
“<Good, it’s deep enough>” After that remark, he outstretched his right arm, balling up his hand into a fist. Suddenly, there was a loud ‘pank!’ and a long black cable shot forth from his wrist, embedding in the opposite side of the river. Detaching the cable from his wrist, he proceeded to secure it to a standing pylon from the bridge. “<Secure>”
Turning to Anya, he motioned for her to wait. “<I will go first. When it’s your turn, I will help you across>”
“I don’t need help, I’ll go first,” she insisted. Enik shook his head adamantly.
“No. You’ll stay here, and I will cross first,” he insisted with finality. With his decision asserted, he grasped the black cable and lowered himself into the water; immediately, his legs were swept with the flow, but his hold was firm enough that he was able to pull himself along the cable. Once upon the other side, he hauled himself out. He turned to face her.
“<Dry your hands!>” he shouted. “<Rub them on your shirt, then in the dirt. Dry them. Get good grip!” His voice had loudened considerably, likely his helmet increasing the volume of his voice so he could project it across the churning water. She did what she was told, rubbing her hands on her shirt, and then the dirt upon the bank, and then once more upon her shirt; her hands now dry, she grasped the cable, its width about that of a single strand in a mooring rope; not particularly good for gripping, but better than nothing. With her fingers wrapped as tightly as possible around the cable, she lowered her tail into the rushing water, her serpentine lower body being swept downstream much as his legs did. She strained as she pulled herself along to the cable. Looking up, she spied Enik grasping the cable tightly, digging his feet into what little surface he could. Halfway across, things seemed to be going smoothly… until she felt the tip of her tail snag in something. She looked back, grunting as she tried to twist it free, to no avail. Panic slowly built in her being, panting from the moderate strain on her muscles and the fear in her mind.
“<What is wrong?>” Enik asked, raising his voice over the river. She didn’t answer, pulling roughly on her tail in an effort to free it. Enik moved to slip into the water, moving to help. Anya hissed at him.
“I’m fine!” she shouted.
“<No you’re not!>” he retorted, ready to enter the river. However, with one final exertion, she managed to free her tail from whatever pinned it. Making her way over to the shore, she pulled herself up onto the bank, ignoring Enik’s offered hand. The Komodi grunted, before grasping the cable’s tip embedded in the soil, pulling it out and pressing a button upon it. The anchor at the other end popped free of the pylon. He inserted the end he held into his gauntlet, and with a ‘whir’, the cable was reeled back into his waiting gauntlet. Grasping his weapon, slung across his back, he climbed up the slope to the top. Once more, he offered his hand to Anya. This time, she took it.
“Thanks,” she muttered as she was hauled over the edge. Enik grunted, before turning around and heading to the road, continued on the other side of the bridge.
“<You can’t always rely on yourself>” he muttered. As he walked out along the road, Anya sneered.
“And you can’t act like everyone is weaker than you,” she said quietly.
Hours later, spent in awkward silence, the unusual duo happened across yet another abandoned cart… though this time, the cause was obvious. Enik grew alert and hunkered down by the cart, gesturing for Anya to do the same. The lamia coiled her body up as compact as possible, and listened to the voices of those who had alerted the Komodi soldier.
“I’m tellin’ ya, those Taint Pledged are bad news!” one boorish voice warned.
“Taint Pledged?” Anya muttered to herself. The Taint Pledged were, for a lack of a better term, ‘tainted’ humans, twisted inside by vile forces. Most were malevolent, striking out from their veiled villages in raiding parties. They were unheard of in these parts.
“Nah, they’re good for business!” another said, a weasely-sounding fellow, a piggish snort following his haughty statement. “Them merchants, they seein’ those ashy shits, so they turn away from Coteburgh… right into us.”
“But, you saw those Taint Pledged!” a third, less nasally sounding man added. “You saw the bitch leading them. She’s evil, real evil. She comes across us, we’re dead men!”
“So we don’t get caught,” the second assured. “We pick off the leftovers, and we’ll be set for a good while, don’t you worry.”
“Yer treadin’ a thin line, friend,” the first warned yet again. “We be lucky with this haul. Them Taint Pledged are goin’ after e’ery other cart they can find. I say, we leave, ‘n’ go somewhere else. We’ve already got blood on our hands.”
“Aye, he’s right,” the third agreed. “It’s bad enough with those Taint Pledged running around in the shadows, the next merchants are gonna be together. The Caravans will be guarded, and when they find out we threw that one guy into river, it’ll be straight to the darkness with us! No trial, they’ll gut us there and then!” The second bandit let out an angry growl.
“Now listen here, you two sons o’ bitches,” he barked. “We ain’t gonna get caught, an’ we got our employer, right? He’ll keep us right. Now, quit your bitchin’ and check your shit. We’re goin’ back!”
Anya clenched her fists; to throw a man into a river… alive or not, these men were malicious and heartless. She grasped the sides of the cart, ready to spring out at the unsuspecting bandits. Before she could, however, a metal-clad hand cut her off, Enik shaking his head.
“I can take them with a good tail whip!” she hissed. He shook his head more firmly.
“<No. Stay low. They will move off soon enough>” he stated, his voice hushed.
“But did you not here them? They killed someone, and they’re going to harm more! I can’t sit by and do nothing!” She glared at the Komodi.
“<My job is to get you home safe. I’m not going to risk your life>” he stated. That was the final straw for the Lamia. She couldn’t stand his constant efforts to look after her like she was helpless.
“Oh, to hell with you!” she snapped, before springing out from behind the cart.
“<Anya, wait!>” he shouted back.
“What the fuck?!” the weasely bandit blurted out. He was a chunky, stout fellow, armed with only a dagger. The boorish bandit was a thuggish man, hefting a large axe, whilst the one with a bit more literacy wielded a hunting bow. Taken aback, they stumbled, though Anya pressed her assault. She slammed her tail into the archer, and then into the axeman. The leader was already fleeing towards his horse, leashed by a nearby stake with the rest of their horses. Anya focused on him, slithering with the speed of a viper in his direction. But she was stubborn to the point of recklessness, forgetting about the other two. The thuggish bandit recovered quickly, and, with a vicious growl, through his axe towards the lamia. It landed in front of her, embedding in the grass. Anya yelped in surprise, and turned around to face the charging axeman. He slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. She thrashed, trying to coil her tail around his body and squeeze him into submission. However, he had already rolled away from her, springing to his feet. He grasped his axe and wrenched it from the dirt, before holding it above his head, ready to bring it down in a cleaving swing.
“Yer time, snake bitch!” her cried.
PEOOSH!
The bandit’s face erupted in a splash of blue energy and red blood. Where a scarred countenance was, now only a bloodied hole remained. There was no death cry. No terminal grown. He simply let go of his axe, which fell to the ground behind him, before crumpling into a heap in front of her. She looked at the dead bandit, and then over to the source of the shot; Enik, his weapon shouldered, aiming at the space where the axeman’s head was previously occupying. Anya heard another groan, looking over to the archer, who was getting to his feet.
“Ah… what…” he uttered, seeing his dead comrade upon the ground. He looked to Enik. “Y-You bastard!” He shouted angrily, knocking an arrow. He let it fly, but the shaft merely snapped upon impact with the Komodi’s armour. Enik’s head turned slowly, facing the Archer.
“Wh-what are you?” the bandit stammered. He didn’t get an answer; another sizzling crack of energy, and the side of the archer’s head was blown off in a steaming fountain of blood and brain. Enik once more whipped around, taking aim at the now horse-borne leader, fleeing without knowledge of the Komodi soldier. One final ‘PEOOSH!’. The leader tumbled off his horse, a burning hole where his heart would be.
“<Targets down>” Enik confirmed. Anya stared in shock; she had forgotten just how dangerous his weapon was, but now realised just how dangerous he was; Enik was a trained, ruthless killer. Not a sadist, not a twisted torturer. They enjoyed the pain and suffering of their victims; not him. Cold, clean, quick, efficient. That was how he fought. She was startled when she saw his head drop down in front of her face.
“<Come on>” he said, unreflective of what had just transpired. Momentarily forgetting her pride, she accepted it, and he hauled her onto her tail. Her serpentine lower half coiled up in insecurity.
“E-Enik…” she uttered.
“<They would’ve compromised both my security and your safety>” he stated. “<It was obvious they were criminals. Killing them was the most effective option>” She looked at him warily.
“But… to do it so coldly…” she trailed off, looking at the brutal wounds on the two close-by bandits left by his weapon.
“<I don’t take joy in killing. I did what I had to>” he stated. Even then, Anya felt perturbed; sure, he was no laughing maniac, but he was also a bit too clinical about his occupation. Not to mention the power of his weapon. The bandit leader was well over three hundred feet away, but Enik took him down with a single shot. If the Komodi ever came to conquer, Praxis would fall.
“<Let’s go. I don’t want to stay here. We need to get you home>” he stated. Anya nodded, slithering after her escort.
But now, she wasn’t so certain about him.
For several more hours, noon now past, Anya stayed silent. Pondering her current situation, she wondered what would happen; she’d seen a display of Enik’s power, both his ruthlessness and his technological terrors. They were nearing Coteburgh now. Anya could tell. The smell of the Sealed Sea was light in the air. She decided she needed to ask questions before they parted ways; for better or for worse, the Komodi weren’t simply to be a momentary event… they were going to be around for a long time… Anya may as well learn more about future acquaintances… or conquerors.
“Enik,” she spoke up.
“<Yes?>” he answered, keeping his gaze firmly ahead.
“What… what brought you here? The Komodi, that is,” she asked. Enik sighed, his shoulders sagging ever so subtly.
“<I’m sorry. But I can’t tell you, it’s classified>” he explained. “<But, for what it’s worth, we were looking for something>”
“Looking for something?”
“<Again, classified… and you don’t need to fear us>” he assured. He stopped, and turned to face her. At Anya’s questioning glance, he slung his weapon on his back. <I can tell you’re worried. I’m not a fool… but conquest and domination are not what we do. You don’t understand, you’re among the first sentient lifeforms we’ve ever encountered in… quite some time>”
“You mean… there aren’t many people out there?” Anya questioned with surprise.
“<As I said, the universe may be big, but it’s harsh and unforgiving. The few other civilisations we’ve met… first encounters haven’t… gone so well>” He stated. Anya didn’t take long to interpret the implication.
“So… there are more of you out there… less friendly…” she guessed. Enik shrugged; it never occurred to her, but his body language was uncannily like those of many Praxians… it was almost unsettling. Even his language was growing more casual and relaxed.
“<I can’t say. The only other race we’ve encountered that rivalled us technologically do not like us… but we’ve not had encounters or sightings of them in over a century… we don’t venture into unfriendly quadrants unless necessary. We prefer avoiding war if we can>”
“But you seem pretty proficient at it,” she quipped.
“<Just because we have a preference for peace does not mean we perfect the art of war… that may come in handy one day>” he defended. “<But above all, stability is our watchword – for us and other races – and to seek out the knowledge and secrets of this universe is our goal… or so I’m told; I’m just a soldier. A peacekeeper or a warmonger… whatever is required. Our military is rather… important to us, ironically>”
“Hmmm…” Anya murmured in contemplation. The two started walking again, and the lamia would idly fish out the shard of Sealed Sea Ivory within the small pouch she carried with her. Turning it in her hand, it glinted in the afternoon sun. Enik’s attention would be drawn to it. Cocking his head, he asked, “<What’s that?>”
“Sealed Sea Ivory,” she identified. “Somewhat valuable in these parts, mostly as a trinket though.”
“<May I see it?>” the Komodi asked. She shrugged and handed it to him. He examined it and muttered.
“What?” Anya remarked.
“<This. It’s the same material the scientists are collecting… they say they’re shrapnel fragments of Warship Hull Plating>” he replied.
“Hull Plating? But, this stuff’s been here for millennia, long before any ships sailed the Sealed Sea…”
“<Say what you will. I’m inclined to believe a scientist. Being stuck aboard a small research and exploration vessel for weeks with a bunch of them is a good way to learn their character; not a lying type among them>”
“Well, I’d be a little grumpy myself, being stuck inside that hundred foot ship you had.”
“<That thing?>” Enik chuckled. “<That was just a standard dropship. The vessel I came on is much larger>” Anya gave him a sideways glance.
“… how much larger?” she ventured.
“<I’d estimate… ten times the size, perhaps? Just to give you an idea>” He snickered, grasping his weapon once more, and handing the shard back to Anya.
“Um… alright,” she muttered, taking the fragment and placing it back in her pouch. Since when did he get so casual? Especially after what happened earlier… perhaps he wasn’t one to dwell on such things. “I have other questions.”
“<Pick them carefully then>” he told her. “<I’m not at liberty to answer everything about my race>”
“Actually… I wanted to know more about you… it’s hard to see you as the face you showed earlier… you seem more like… a machine. Especially when you… fight.”
“<Is that so…>” he trailed off.
“I know your name… but just how old are you? And do you have a family?” she asked. Silence. Enik continued to walk forward, the moments of no answer passing.
“<I would be about 54 SMY>” he stated.
“‘Ess Em Why’?” Anya gave him a lopsided look.
“<‘Standard Military Year’>” he clarified. “<Different planets have different rotational periods and orbits. Thus their days and years are different to our own. And in deep space, there is nothing to judge by. So that is a universal designator we use, based on our homeworld. Your planet’s orbit around your star is about forty days longer, but your rotational period – that is, your day – is almost identical. But yes, I’m about 54 ‘Smy’, for short>” Anya gave an appreciative noise.
“Wow. Looking good. But then again, I’m used to it. Even my kind live long compared to humans. Should be no surprise to me,” she admitted.
“<Indeed. I’m rather young. Over the generations, our lifespan has increased considerably>” he agreed. Anya nodded. He didn’t seem so bad, save for his constant belief she needed help.
“So then… what of your family?” she reiterated. More silence.
“<… I haven’t seen them in over forty years>” he stated. Even with the monotonous, flat tone of his helmet’s translation, the morbid finality in his words was more than obvious to Anya.
“Oh… I see,” she said, and spoke no more. Human, mamonme, space men, it didn’t matter… lost family is universally a touchy subject… so she dropped it. Bit by bit, however, the humanity of the man within the armour was coming out… even if, at times, he could be ruthlessly detached. As they walked, more woodland would creep up on them. Suddenly, Enik grew alert, hunching low and shuffling to the side of the road.
“What is it?” Anya whispered.
“<Multiple thermal signatures ahead>” he stated. Anya looked forward, and focused… sure enough, she could vaguely sense the heat of multiple people, a trait shared amongst all lamia as a result of their snake heritage… though it seemed Enik’s vision was a lot better than her own. Slowly, Enik crept up, his weapon ready. Anya slithered not far behind, silent and graceful. The Komodi held up his left fist.
“Ho ho ho… very nice,” came a simultaneously refined and piggish voice. A chill went down Anya’s spine; she recognised it. Enik shuffled along, hiding behind a bush, and peaking over it, Anya doing the same. In a clearing by the side of the road, a large group of men milled about, horses reigned to trees in the rear. And reclining on a lavish chair was a pudgy, well dressed merchant, if a little gaudy with its bright yellow and magenta fabric. He was short and stocky, evidence of his well-fed lifestyle in the bulges of his clothes around his waist. His nose was upturned, and his brown eyes were almost obscured by his chubby cheeks and eyebrows. A thin moustache grew beneath his nose, curling up at each end. His ears seemed undersized compared to his head, and his face flushed red. He laughed as he read a piece of parchment, his thick digits greasy with oil from the fried fish sticks beside him, sitting in a bowl upon a wooden table… overly ostentatious for a campsite… but the Good Baron oh so loved his luxury.
“Baron Herman Adelstitel,” Anya muttered. Enik turned to her.
“<You know him?>” he queried. The lamia nodded.
“We all do,” she uttered with distaste. “He’s a well-known merchant in these parts. Very wealthy, powerful family. Herman often comes to Coteburgh on his trading runs… ‘meeting with his peers’ he calls it.”
“<You don’t sound pleased>” Enik noted. “<Is he a bastard?>”
Other than a mild expression of surprise at his use of a curse, she shook her head.
“No… he’s sweet and charming, really, very friendly. That’s the problem… he’s sickly sweet. Suave, maybe, but there’s something off about him. Everyone finds him creepy, and whenever he’s in town, he’s always trying to use his silver tongue to entice some poor girl,” she explained. “I think he knows we find him uncomfortable… he just likes to express his dominance.”
“<In that case, I suggest we just walk past. They shouldn’t disturb us. I’d rather it be quick though>” he advised. “<I neither like the look of those thugs, and I do not want them getting a good look at me>”
Anya nodded in agreement, but before they moved, the Baron let out his ugly laugh again.
“Ho ho, who knew Taint Pledged could be such good business partners?” he commented. Anya stopped; Taint Pledged? Those three bandits earlier in the day mentioned Taint Pledged. She decided to eavesdrop, learn more.
“Speaking of which… where are those three buffoons? Gerot should be here by now… oh, no matter, the imbecile has probably gotten lost,” he complained, and then chuckled rather maliciously. “Or perhaps one of those Merchants gutted him. Oh, better for me, less to share around.”
One of the Barons sellswords walked up to him.
“But Baron, can they be trusted… I didn’t like the look of that Jarvis woman,” he voiced his concern, but Herman waved his worries aside.
“Ah, the Taint Pledged are a prideful lot. I doubt they’d renege on such a mutually beneficial deal,” Herman assured, pivoting on his seat with groans of effort, swinging his legs to the side. “They plan to take Coteburgh very soon. It would be such a shame to see all the pretty women in that town butchered or enslaved, so I cut them a deal; I use my influence to send merchants their way, and as long as I keep the flow of information to a minimum, I get a cut of the loot they make and a choice selection of the beautiful women… ah, to be king, as it were~”
A cold pit formed at the bottom of Anya’s stomach; she knew Herman Adelstitel was a perverted man, but she didn’t realise just how malevolent he was. Not only that, but Coteburgh was going to be attacked? The town’s garrison was small, and rather laid back; they were used to petty thievery, not actually defending against marauding raiders with every intention of gutting the first person they saw.
“Now then,” Herman uttered, getting to his feet with a modicum of strain. “Mmph… yes, now to do the final part of the deal.”
“My lord?” the mercenary asked in confusion.
“Oh, yes, they asked me to pay a visit to Coteburgh. Create a diversion in the guise of a sale,” he explained. “Once I do, they’ll attack, take the town, and I’ll be even richer.”
Anya balled her fists, sickened. She couldn’t believe this was happening… no. She couldn’t let herself have doubts. It was happening… and she wasn’t about to stand by idly.
“<We must leave. Now>” Enik interjected. Anya whipped her gaze at him, fury in her eyes.
“Leave?!” she exclaimed, doing her best to keep her voice down. “How can you say that? They’re going to start a diversion, and that’s a sure signal to start attacking! If we stop them now, we’ll buy some time.”
“<No. We make for the town. Warn them outright>” he stated. Anya’s fists clenched even tighter, her knuckles turning white.
“They, have, horses. Even you can’t outrun them,” she stated angrily. Admittedly, she didn’t know the extent of his abilities, but in her wrathful state, she didn’t care. “If we both take them, we can do it. You’re strong, Enik. You could take them on easily.” Enik shook his head yet again, more firmly this time.
“<No. I can’t ensure your safety>” he insisted. “<I don’t know the extent of their abilities. There are too many unknowns. Besides, it’s not my place to go engaging the enemy where it can be avoided. And I don’t want a repeat of earlier. Stay out of sight>”
“How can you say that?!” she hissed, ready to throttle the Komodi soldier. “You act like you need to do everything for me, keep me safe! I can handle myself, and so can you, but now you say you can’t?! Coward!”
Enik didn’t answer. Silently, he hefted his weapon and shuffled quietly towards the road. The afternoon sun was still up. He was probably planning on sneaking through the tall grass on the other side. Anya was ready to scream, force the Baron’s men’s hands, and thus force his hand. But something else did that for her.
“Alright, let’s get ready,” Herman commanded. “You. Boy! Get here now!” Herman’s tone turned harsh and cruel, before a pained yelp brought both Anya’s attention an Enik’s. From out behind a horse limped a young, bruised child, barely nine from the looks, clothed in ragged cotton, bruised and dirtied. His hair was unkempt and greasy, his face smudged and grimy. His eyes were red from crying, his bruised cheeks tear-stained. He appeared to have suffered a great amount of abuse as he limped over to the Baron.
“I said get here!” Herman growled, kicking the boy in the small of his back, knocking him to the ground. “Get up! Pack my things!”
The child whimpered, his frame gaunt, obviously hungry, as he set about packing up the impractical travel chair and table. He eyed the fried fish sticks sitting mere inches from his face with unbelievable hunger in his twin blue orbs… but he dared not touch them. His fear for his master’s retribution kept him from doing so. Anya’s blood turned to ice as her rage grew almost clinical.
“Kill him… I’ll kill him… crush his bones… I’ll kill him… squeeze him breathless… kill him,” she repeated in her mind, her monstrous instincts from a bygone era threating to break free, her lips curling up in a malevolent snarl.
It was Enik marching straight past her that snapped her out of her spiral into bloodthirsty wrath. He seemed unconcerned that he was exposed, his weapon slung on his back. The Baron and his thugs immediately spotted him.
“Oi… who are you?” Herman Adelstitel asked. His mercenary guards’ hands went to their swords. “I said answer me!”
Enik didn’t. He simply reared his right hand back, and struck the pudgy Baron’s face clear between the eyes with his Gauntleted fist. With a loud, pained “ACK!” he crumpled down onto his chair, the piece of furniture collapsing beneath his frame. The sound of steel scraping against scabbard filled the area, as the guards drew their blades.
“You! You like the sight of your own blood?! Because you’re about to get a whole eyeful!” one of them shouted. Enik ignored them.
“<Release the child. Now>” he demanded. The lack of emotion in his artificial voice made him more intimidating to Anya.
“Wh… what the… you…” Herman muttered, his hand going to his face as he groggily sat up, unsteady on his rump. The extent of Enik’s damage was evident; Herman’s nose was scrunched up in an ugly manner, more so than before, nose pouring from the collapsed nostrils. His eyes were red, and his face tinged blue. “… you… Bastard! Do you know who I am?! I am Baron Herman Adelstitel! Heir to the Adelstitel Name! I am the King of the merchants!” he cried. “You dare lay your hands on me?!”
Enik once more didn’t answer. He simply drew another weapon, holstered upon his waist by some unknown force, smaller than his main weapon, such that Anya was surprised she hadn’t noticed it before. It was vaguely similar to his main weapon, albeit on a much smaller scale. It nevertheless had faint blue energy pulsing through it, much like his primary. Enik knelt down, and pressed the end to Herman’s forehead.
“<You will release the child. Now. I will not ask again. If you do not, I will kill you>” he threatened. As Anya watched dumbfounded at Enik’s sudden turnaround in priority, the Baron began to laugh nervously. “Ha ha… kill me? With that thing? How could that be called a weapon… such a small cudgel couldn’t even bruise that little shit,” he mocked, pointing to the cowering child slave. Nevertheless, the fear in his voice was evident; even if he didn’t know what that weapon could do, he was certainly not about to blow off an armoured warrior threatening his life. Suddenly, one of the Baron’s guards came up from behind, wrapping his arms around Enik’s neck.
“Let’s see how much you bleed!” he grunted. Enik grunted similarly, but suddenly whipped around and smacked the man upon the back of his head with his elbow. He dropped to his knees in a daze, whereupon Enik grasped the sides of his head, and twisted. There was a sickening crack as the man, head facing an unnatural angle, collapsed to the ground. The boy screamed in terror, and the Baron’s eyes widened in horror.
“M-Men! Don’t just s-stand there, kill him!” he commanded. At that moment, the remaining number of guards – seven – all charged at the Komodi soldier. One tower of a sellsword rushed at Enik. He dived out of the way, and blasted a bloody hole in his gut.
“Urk!” he gurgled, his eyes bulging as he died, collapsing atop of Herman, the Baron screaming in fright and struggling vainly as he was trapped beneath the dead bandit. The others moved to skewer Enik, one flanking him and smacking him in the side of the head with the pommel of his sword. Enik stumbled and grunted; the blow was certainly strong; even a normal heavy knight would be dazed or knocked over after such a strike. Enik was barely even disorientated, twisting his body to face the threat. With both hands on the handle of his weapon, he pulled the trigger twice, two new bloody holes appearing in his chest. A lithe, unarmoured swordsman attempted to run him through from behind, but his blade glanced off the back plates of the soldier’s armoured suit. Whipping around, he smacked the bottom of his fist into the sellsword’s voice, knocking him backwards before a follow up shot to the head finished the job. He adopted a stable stance, both hands once more on the handle of his weapon, his primary still attached to his back. Four more remained, adopting a defensive posture, having learned from the mistake their comrades made. One of them turned to another.
“Henrik! Get the fire jar! Burn hi—” his voice cut short as half his lower jaw was shot off his skull, his tongue flying out of his mouth, ablaze. “Gluruck…” his exposed throat bubbled. The subordinate the now collapsing bandit was talking to shrieked in terror, and turned to run. Two cracks. Two holes in his back, one exposing his spine. The remaining pair looked at each other; they knew they had only one chance; charge. They rushed at Enik, ducking low to avoid his shots. One wasn’t unfortunate, his shoulder bubbling away as a bolt of energy splashed against it. He twisted around like in a pirouette, crying in agony. The other slammed his body into Enik’s midsection, the two of them falling to the ground with simultaneous grunts, the sellsword’s a bit more strained. The mercenary straddled the Komodi, bringing his fist down on his helmet. Pank!
“OW!” he cried, shaking his hand in pain. Enik recovered quickly, headbutting the guard. He grunted in pain, staggering upwards. The soldier closed in, grasping the swordsman’s shoulder, and loosed repeated blows into his stomach, gasping as the wind was beaten from him. Blood trickled from his mouth, before Enik finished the job, bending him over and dropping his elbow down upon the back of his skull, Anya just barely able to hear Enik panting softly.
“Grraaaah!” came the enraged, pained cry from the wounded bandit. His left arm was limp, dead from the complete cauterisation of his shoulder’s flesh. He shakily hefted his shortsword with one good arm, trudging over towards Enik. “Diiiieeee!”
He lunged at the Komodi, bringing his sword down in a slash. It missed, sailing past his head, glancing off his pauldron. Enik pressed the tip of his barrel to the guard’s stomach. PZAK! Blood sprayed from the small of his back, the lightning quick bolt passing clean through and impacting a tree, the back burning away in an instant around the newly smouldering hole in the trunk.
“Unf…” he gasped. Immediately, he collapsed, lifeless. Enik looked at him, the glowing eye-slits of his helmet almost baleful. His attention then turned to the Baron, busily struggling to remove the dead mercenary atop him.
“Ah… g-get off!” he muttered in strain. He then went dead still as Enik sauntered over to him. “S-stay away, devil!”
“<… there is nothing I cannot abide by more than slavery and cruelty… but of a child? You were lucky I offered you a peaceful way out of this…> Enik warned, aiming his weapon at the Baron’s head. “<… and you threw it away, forced my hand... but I guess I’m kind of glad you did… now I get to kill you. Forget doctrine and protocol… I won’t stand by idly and watch a child be beaten and enslaved before my eyes. Have a nice day in Hell>”
PZAK!
Baron Herman Adelstitel went still.
From the sidelines, Anya watched on in a mixture of shock, horror and amazement. The gory details aside, she was almost in disbelief that Enik had actually managed to beat them all. Sure, she was confident before that he could’ve taken them on. But several times in that fight, he was knocked around, even tackled over. He grunted and panted. But his exertion was, throughout, minimal, and his efficiency brutally precise, even if he still came off more soldier than magical hero; he was still stronger to a degree than the average human, likely from his suit. He looked around, surveying the carnage around him, before turning his attention to the cowering, terrified boy that had set him off on this bloody episode. He took a step towards the shivering child, and the boy winced and cried.
“S-stay away!” the boy pleaded, burying his face behind a crate. Enik sighed dejectedly, his shoulders drooping in his armour.
“<I’m not here to hurt yo-->”
“No!” the boy interrupted. Enik sighed again. This time, he crouched, and pressed the button on the side of his helmet, causing it to fold backwards, revealing his face for the second time since Anya met him; considering what had just transpired, she forget he was still flesh and blood beneath the mask, and half expected his visage to be replaced by that of a demon. But no, his face was the same as last time, albeit, this time, a faint, compassionate smile curled his lips. The boy saw, and watched in fear as Enik reached out with his hand.
“Friend,” he uttered, his kindly smile unwavering. “I help.”
Anya was… surprised. Having grown so used to the emotionless artificial voice of his suit, hearing his natural tone speaking common tongue was startling… but not unwelcome. He had a masculine voice, but it was gentle and kind. Despite his poor understanding of common tongue (he must have been slowly learning whilst his suit spoke for him), his words were soothing and comforting, a far cry from the efficient killer from before. At first, the boy was unsure. Then he cowered as Enik reached out. Eventually, however, the Komodi’s unwavering smile and stalwart posture earned the child’s trust, the boy limping over on all fours timidly. He grasped Enik’s gauntleted palm, and the soldier gingerly enclosed it around the smaller boy’s hand in a reassuring manner.
“See?” he said. “Friend. Help you.”
The boy nodded, his expression still one of fear. How could he not be afraid, not after witnessing such violence? Anya decided not to make her presence known, fearing the boy’s reaction, but she looked over at the corpse of Herman Adelstitel; blood trickled out from the hole in his forehead, cauterised brain matter already liquefying. She felt sick, but endured the horrific sights.
“Name?” Enik asked, pointing to the boy.
“S-Sasha,” he declared, nervous and frightened.
“Sa… sha,” Enik enunciated. He then gestured to himself, pressing his hand to his chest. “Enik. Enik Ven.”
The boy nodded. “Enik,” he said.
The Komodi repeated the gesture, before grasping a small flask from his waist, one of the many small containers lining a ‘belt’ of sorts. He flipped the metal lid up, and offered it to the boy.
“Drink,” he said. Sasha took the bottle, uncertain of it. After glancing at the smiling Enik, he decided to trust this person, the one person who’d treated him kindly in a very long time. He pressed his cracked, dry lips to the bottle’s opening, and tipped it up. Immediately, he began gulping down the water inside. Within moments, he’d drained the entire flask, and looked to Enik as if asking for more. The Komodi shook his head negatively.
“No more,” he told him, making a gesture as though to say he was empty. Sasha understood, and then suddenly hugged the soldier. Enik smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair. Sasha began to sob softly, and tears ran down his cheek. “Sasha Safe.”
Anya’s heart twisted and churned in her chest. Here was this man, a man from space, one who’d repeatedly harmed her pride, shown little regard for other’s sense of duty, and came off as almost heartless… but what she saw before her, what she just witnessed before, was enough to override all of that. He possessed that one important trait above all others; humanity, something not definable by species. A tear rolled down her cheek. Suddenly, Enik looked up, locking eyes with her. He nodded, an unspoken command for her to come out. Nodding in return, she slipped out from behind her bushy hiding place. Sasha immediately saw her, and began to press firmly against Enik’s armour in fear. Anya froze. Enik looked down and smiled.
“Anya friend,” he assured, pointing to the lamia. Sasha looked up at Enik, and whimpered in acknowledgment. At a confirming gesture from the soldier, she began slithering closer.
“Hey there,” she cooed compassionately, leaning down to press her hands to his shoulders, making sure her face was no higher than his. “It’s alright, you’re safe now,” Anya assured. She looked up in Enik’s eyes, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Slowly, Enik stood up, prompting Sasha to wrap his arms around Enik’s waist pleadingly.
“No… don’t go,” he whimpered.
“Enik stay. Anya Friend. Anya help,” he assured. At first, Sasha refused to let go, but against Enik’s comforting expression, he yielded. As soon as he did, Enik pressed the button on the side of his helmet, enclosing his face once more.
“<Comfort him. I’ll move these bodies out of the way>” he told her, before looking at the young, tormented Sasha. “<Don’t worry. You’re safe now. On my life, I will assure you that>”
The boy nodded. Suddenly, felt Anya enclosing her emerald tail around him. He flailed and yelped. “Wha?!”
“Shshshsh,” she cooed lovingly. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you… it’s okay, it’s okay… just keeping you safe~” She adopted a motherly smile, caressing the top of his head in a reassuring manner. Eventually, he calmed down, finding comfort in the serpentine hug. Anya smiled, pulling him affectionately against her bosom. It was a technique she used to calm down anxious children back in Coteburgh, and one she hoped to use on one of her own someday. “See? I won’t let anyone hurt you. Enik, he won’t either. He’s a good man.” She now meant that. Whatever he had done before, Enik had proven himself in her eyes, in one way at least.
Sasha murmured unintelligibly, crying softly, emotional that his days of torment were over.
“Wh-what now?” he asked.
“We’ll take you back to Coteburgh. You should be safe there,” she assured him, but inwardly, she wasn’t so certain; even with the Baron’s diversion no longer coming with his demise, the attack would still go ahead, one way or another. Hopefully, they bought time for them to flee.
“<Anya. We should get going>” Enik suddenly called out, finished arranging the bodies in a neat row, out of sight behind some shrubs. She didn’t dwell on whether he’d leave them to rot or not… the Baron deserved it at least.
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” she answered. She looked down at the boy wrapped up in her tail, and smiled. “We have to leave now. You don’t have to walk though,” she said. “I’ll carry you piggy-back,” she said. The horses weren’t an option; she couldn’t ride them, and Enik hardly gave them any pause. Probably for the best; he likely didn’t want to hurt any of them unnecessarily due to his armour. Still, Anya didn’t like leaving them tied up. Uncoiling around the young boy, she smiled as she picked him up, hauling him onto her back. Sasha wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bone thin and weak. Slithering over to Enik, she asked, “What should we do with the horses?” she asked. Enik glanced at the beasts.
“<Free them, I guess. Too much effort to take them to your home, and I can’t guarantee anyone will come back for them in a timely fashion>” he stated. Anya nodded, and slithered over to the horses; compared to Sasha, they seemed much better treated. That just made Anya all the more glad he was dead, whatever the economic ramifications. The lamia untied the Horses from the tree, letting them run free, Sasha observing curiously. Anya slithered back over to Enik.
“I’m ready now,” she said. The Komodi nodded, and the trio once more took to the road, the wind carrying the salty scent of the Sealed Sea aloft on the winds… home was near.
As the sun drifted to its mid-afternoon position, Anya’s eyes widened when she first spotted the glittering dome of the towering beacon, as visible by day as its light made it at night. They were on the home stretch… but something was wrong. Several plumes of black smoke billowed up into the sky… and they were not from chimneys.
“<Village on fire>” Enik alerted in his typical professionalism, confirming her worst fears… had the attack already commenced? At that moment, Anya spotted something approaching at speed, black wings fluttering against the blazing mid-afternoon sun. As it grew closer, Anya recognised the form of her friend.
“It’s Milt! She’s here!” the lamia shrieked. She looked over to Enik, wincing as she caught him lowering his weapon. At least he picked up on it. Sasha waved at the incoming Impundulu. As the vampiric harpy touched down, she stumbled into a bounding run, before stopping short of the three, panting. Anya’s joyous expression melted immediately; Milt’s face was one of urgent dread.
“Anya!” she exclaimed. “You’re alive!”
“No thanks to Enik here,” she praised, gesturing to the Komodi soldier, busy scanning the smoky horizon, watching for threats. “But that’s another story, what’s wrong?”
“Taint Pledged,” she revealed. “They… they attacked the town in force. The Guard is outnumbered… we need help!”
Anya’s face dropped in horror; how could this happen? They stopped the Baron, they should’ve bought Coteburgh time… but now… everything was burning anyways. No. She had to be strong, she couldn’t give up now. She noticed Milt wince when Enik placed his hand on her shoulder.
“<Take me as close as you can to the town>” he suggested. Milt, taken aback by his ability to speak, nodded nervously.
“A-Alright, follow me,” she informed. A faint smile played across her lips; perhaps there was hope after all. Milt took to the sky, hovering overhead as she lead him to the town, not that a guide was strictly necessary. As they approached, however, they spotted the form of a broken man, tied to a stake rammed into the earth. As they grew closer, the features of the man resolved, and the two mamonme gasped in horror… none more so than Milt.
“No!” she screamed, rushing to the man’s side. Sasha watched worriedly as Anya slithered over to her friend, Milt hunched over the man and grasping him by the shoulders, tears running down her cheeks. “No, no, no…”
His sandy hair was riddled with dirt and matted with blood, cuts and bruises all over his body. His shirt was stripped, and his modesty preserved only by a ragged cloth that was once a set of cotton trousers. His blackened eyes were severely swollen, and his blood-stained eyes hid any traces of his natural iris colour. An incision drew across his belly, blood slowly leaking out. He breathed shallowly, indicating he still lived… but not intended to remain so for long. The wound on his stomach was a precise one, one intended for maximum cruelty, the purpose of causing the victim to bleed out very slowly. It was something only a true sadist, a master torturer, could perform. This man was staked here as an example, a warning… and what was worse, Anya knew him.
“Cyril…” the name seemed to linger heavily on her quivering lips. What Herman did was unforgivably cruel, but… this was another level of malevolence. A clinical sadism that delighted in watching the world burn, a mind twisted by more than just sick desires. Truly, whoever inflicted this was more of a monster than any twisted beast, no matter how human they looked. Whatever Enik thought was unknowable to the lamia, other than one thing; a wounded civilian. Medically, his priority was to stabilise this man, but as he approached to do so, Milt loosed a monstrous hiss.
“Stay back!” she shrieked, snarling at the armoured soldier, lightning crackling at her feathers. Sasha cowered, burying his face in Anya’s hair. The lamia gritted her teeth, coming between the distraught Impundulu and the Komodi.
“Let him through, Milt,” she said as soothingly as possible. “He can help. He helped me.”
At first, it seemed Milt was going to be adamant in refusing access, but after a firm staring contest, she relented, sobbing as she peeled off her brutalised but breathing mate. Immediately, Enik set to work, opening a small box from his ‘belt’; inside, he took out several collapsible instrument, the first being a needle-like device. He stuck it into the wound, and with clinical precision, used a small, sharp knife to clean dirt and infected tissue from the open wound. Cyril grunted in unconscious pain, and Anya had to hold tightly onto Milt’s shoulder, lest the Impundulu change her mind and try to throw Enik off of the dying Cyril. Once he had cleaned the wound, he set about applying the same foam-like substance to the gash as he had to hers. Her hand pressed against the hard material through her shirt; truly, he performed well beyond any other without a healer’s power, all thanks to training and technological superiority. Eventually, he pulled back, bringing his left gauntlet in front of him, the projection of light once more displaying. Another triangular plane of light would materialise beneath his wrist, and began sweeping up and down his body. After a few moments, he snapped off both projections, standing up and turning to the others.
“<He’s in a serious condition, but I’ve done what I can. He’s stabilised now, but I wouldn’t recommend moving him until proper medical attention can be granted>” he advised.
“Don’t move him?!” Milt blurted out angrily. “Look at him! He’s suffered enough, and you want to leave him here?! It’s not safe here anyways! They took him the day I left on the trip to the Mountains! How can he be safe here?!”
Anya would squeeze her friend’s shoulder hard, wordlessly urging her to calm down.
“<It would be dangerous at best to move him. The best I can do is link up with my unit>” he said. Anya raised an eyebrow, Sasha having since climbed down from her back to hide behind the trunk of her tail.
“What do you mean… link up? The village is right there… it’s burning… people are dying… and you want to go to the mountains for help? That’ll take hours, if not a whole day, without a boat! Can’t you just go in there, deal with them like you did those mercenaries?” Enik shook his head.
“<I’m just one soldier. I’m not invincible. There are too many unknowns. This ‘Taint Pledged’ force is likely hundreds strong… I would be overwhelmed by them. It would be a wasted effort>” he explained. As much as Anya wanted to argue, she knew he was right; a regular human sellsword was able to knock him down. A horde of rabid Taint Pledged, with all their savage ferocity, would tear him apart eventually. Just as she was about to cry out in frustration, another voice broke the tension, distorted slightly in the same manner as Enik’s untranslated speech, though this time, it was clearly female.
“Enik?” it asked. Turning around, Anya almost shrieked as she came face to face with five more fully armoured Komodi soldiers, two of them in the back crouching down, their weapons drawn and sweeping the terrain. She couldn’t work out which one had spoken; inside their armour, they were all identical, save for differing symbols upon their pauldrons, helmets and chests, subtle and almost unnoticeable. Anya never gave any thought to them, but glancing back she noticed the symbols on Enik were a pair of triangles, arranged into a rhombus shape. The soldier in front of the new group had three, arranged into a trapezium. The one to the left of the frontrunner had the same as Enik, only hollow, whilst the rest had single inverted, hollow triangles. Immediately, Enik stood to attention, smacking his fist upon his left breast in stiff salute. He barked something indiscernible, switching to his native tongue without missing a beat. The one in front uttered something, revealing them to be the female, and Enik relaxed; she was superior to him, and that revealed what the symbols on their armour meant; they were indicators of rank. The leader rattled off several unintelligible sentences, and Enik answered in kind.
“What’re they saying?” Milt whispered, leaning over.
“I don’t know, his armour translates his speech for him,” she breathed back. The trio would watch as Enik and his leader held their left wrists together. A linkage of light formed, and a flurry of symbols flowed between them. It took half a minute, but eventually, the light faded. The leader approached and, in artificial common tongue, still female, introduced herself.
“<I am Sergeant Major Vex Cet. Non-Commissioned Officer of the KUMC>” she said, her authoritarian voice coming across even through the monotonous drone of the translation.
“‘Kay You Em See’?” Milt pondered quizzically.
“<Komodi Unity Marine Corps>” Enik interjected helpfully.
“<Indeed>” Vex continued. “<I am told your town is under attack by marauders. Can you provide details on the hostiles?>”
Anya’s spirits lifted, feeling hope fill her up.
“At least two hundred,” Milt informed. “Perhaps three. All heavily armed; knives, swords, bows, spears, axes, some magic. Oh, and they’re lead by two main commanders; a woman and a man. The woman’s the real monster of the two.”
Sergeant Cet nodded in understanding. She turned back to Enik, grasping his upper arm and pulling him aside. The two began discussing something with hushed tones. As they talked, Anya observed the rest of the soldiers, keeping an eye out for danger. The lamia noted that their weapons weren’t all the same; whilst all possessed one of the smaller weapons, holstered on their hips, two of them wielded slightly different instruments of war; one of two crouching at the back held a slightly longer version of their standard tools, two stick like ‘legs’ with pads on the end akin to ‘feet’ folded up underneath the slightly rounded and less bulky end, while towards the rear, it was a touch bulkier compared to the other weapons, though it maintained the sleek, angular profile, and the lines of faint, pulsing blue energy shrouded behind mesh, likely to dull its glow from a distance. The other weapon that did not fit was shorter compared to even their normal implements, slightly wider and less boxy in shape. Its tip had a maximum of seven holes, arranged in a hexagonal pattern and housed in a similar cowling. The butt of the weapon was also much more skeletal compared to the others, and a large cylinder was mounted to the underside, just in front of the trigger guard, running parallel with the weapons length. Vents on either side obscured more pulsing blue energy. The soldier wielding it spotted her, and turned to face the curious lamia. She gasped softly, and took keen interest in the tip of her tail, wiggling nervously. The soldier snickered quietly. Upon looking over at Vex and Enik again, she noted that, unlike him, she was wearing a sort of armoured pack, rigid plates mounted to a flexible metallic weave underneath, and glancing around quickly, noticed every other soldier had as well. She wondered why they had packs when Enik didn’t, and then remembered the other day; he’d caught them spying on their landing site, so more than likely, he was simply on guard duty, and thus didn’t need a pack for long excursions. Finally, the discussion between the two Komodi came to an end, and they both marched over to the waiting quartet, Milt keeping an eye on the weak, unconscious Cyril, Sasha clinging to the trunk of Anya’s tail.
“<We will do what we can, but we can make no promises>” Vex informed.
“What do you mean by that?” Anya questioned.
“<We can’t engage in conflict against such a large force without prior authorisation>” Enik explained, interjecting. “<As it stands, Major Tek Yeg is the commanding officer on this deployment. If he denies authorisation, we can’t do a thing. If we did, it would be an act of insubordination. That is something H-COM would not tolerate>”
More protocol. Anya was growing sick of it, but she kept in mind that these people conducted themselves on a different code to anyone on Praxis, one of rules and doctrine, over honour and chivalry. Cold and utilitarian, perhaps, but ultimately much more efficient. She growled to herself in exasperation, but Vex reassuringly rested her hand on the Lamia’s shoulder.
“<I will do what I can. I make no promises, but I will do my best to convince the Major. I understand your plight, and feel it is our obligation to assist a civilian population in crisis>” she assured. Anya’s mouth drooped slightly in surprise, before nodding with dogged hope; she couldn’t afford to be pessimistic. None of them could. Vex had to convince the Major. She would step pass them, pressing her left index and middle finger to the left side of her helmet, where her temple would be, opposite to the side Enik used to open his helmet. For a moment, silence, before Vex began talking in her language to some unseen and unheard secondary in the discourse. Others would think a person talking to themselves mad, but Anya couldn’t help but be further impressed by the ability of the Komodi to overcome the boundaries that once only magic could bypass. To some craftsmen, replicating the effects of magic was a metaphorical holy grail, the goal of a lifetime. Achieving it would be nothing short of legend. The Komodi saw such things as a matter of course. As Anya listened, she watched Vex pace back and forth, her free hand moving around in emotive gestures. Her speech would grow heated, arguing with her superior. Then, it grew hopeful. Finally, Vex would talk with a professional determination. She nodded, and took her fingers off her head, turning around back to the non-Komodi present. She nodded positively.
“<Reinforcements inbound. We have authorisation to go in and attempt a diplomatic approach until they arrive. From what you have told me, that will likely fail. As such, we will begin systematic termination of all hostile forces in the area that do not surrender immediately>” she stated. “<The strength of the Komodi is with you>”
Anya let out a wild, joyous whoop. She didn’t even need to contemplate on the extent of their power, she already knew the eventual outcome; the Taint Pledged were marching to utter defeat. Sergeant Cet began barking orders, and the rest of the team began mobilising, clustering together. As the group began to move towards Coteburgh, Enik waved Anya aside.
“<You stay here with Milt, Sasha and the man>” he told her. “<Stay out of the town until it’s secured>”
“No!” she refused. “This is my home. I’m not gonna stay out of this fight. You keep telling me you’re keeping me safe, but I can handle myself. Mamonme are tough by nature, and I’ll be damned if I let those Taint Pledged think otherwise!” Enik grasped her shoulder, almost painfully, causing her to wince.
“<Strength isn’t everything. You go into that fight, I can’t guarantee any support. Going at it alone will be suicide>” he told her. For a moment, the two remained locked together in their two unyielding stares; though it helped his was that of a mask. Finally, it was Enik who relented, sighing and letting his shoulders droop. “<Fine… I will let you come with us, but as soon as the fighting begins, find shelter. I will allow you to see just why I don’t want you involved>” he stated. With a quizzical expression, she watched the Komodi walk over to one of his squad mates, asking access for his bag. The soldier nodded, and Enik rummaged through the pack, before drawing out a metal brace, like a half tiara, segments of it folded up in a nice compact form. He walked back to Anya, and began placing it on her head; the curved section went around the back of her head, and he proceeded to flip out the folded segments, two going over her ears, and small metal brace folding out in front of her brow.
“<This will allow you to monitor and understand any tactical chatter that comes through me, as well as link you to my suits optics; you’ll see what I see>” he explained.
“Um… okay,” she said, uncertain. The Komodi then pressed a button on the device, and Anya yelped, startled, as a projection of light materialised before her eyes. A crackling, sizzling sound resounded in her ears, prompting the lamia to cup the sides of her head in her palms, until the white noise resolved into clear voices, all artificial in their translation.
“<Fireteam Beta Two Four!>” Vex barked through the headpiece.
“<That’s my cue>” Enik said, patting her on the shoulder before joining his comrades. Suddenly, his voice echoed through the headset. “<Follow close behind Anya, and remember, when the combat starts, get to cover. I’ll activate the optical link from my end. If you think you’re going to be captured, take it off, slide the bar on the back of the COM Set, and press the button. After that, I suggest you drop it, it’ll get real hot and sparky real quick>”
“<Cut the Chatter Ven!>” Vex chastised. “<Fireteam, form up on me. Private Fas, you take point. Private Niv, you have the SAW, you take the rear. Corporal Ven, you keep an eye on those alleys>”
“<Yes sir!>” came a chorus of voices, one of them Eniks, one of them another female. With that, they began advancing towards the smoking, besieged town of Coteburgh. The fight was on.
Anya kept close to the man with the ‘saw’ as they approached the outlying buildings.
“<Check your plasma charge, dump waste charge>” Enik ordered. At that, there was a report of clacking and ‘whirring’ sounds from the soldiers, blue fizzling mist pouring from vents on the sides of their weapons.
“<Cycling complete>” they all uttered quietly. Outside of the headset, they were speaking in hushed tones, using their native language. “<Rifles primed>”
“<Scattergun primed>” the man with the hexagonal shaped weapon said.
“<SAW primed>” the man next to her chimed.
“<Check your corners, keep your guns ready. We are supposed to attempt the diplomatic solution first, but be prepared to defend yourselves>” Vex notified.
“<Affirmative>” they all responded. ‘Guns’, ‘rifles’, so that’s what they were called. As they passed through an alleyway, she watched them sweep their ‘guns’ down each side passage, over the rooftops, and anywhere someone might be hiding. As they neared the end, ‘Private Fas’ crouched down at the corner, peaking around with his weapon readied. He held up his hand and gestured for them to advance. They jogged around the corner, keeping in their positions. Niv bumped his shoulder into Anya’s, telling her to keep up. Ahead, she could hear the dreadful evidence of the Taint Pledged’s campaign; clashing steel, women and children screaming, fire crackling. She felt ill in her gut, and hoped the Komodi could end this quickly. As they advanced through the alleyways, they came upon a hastily erected stockade, made of overturned carts and benches. Behind it, a man in the uniform of an officer of the Guard, his helmet missing and his hair matted with his blood, twin trails of the crimson fluid dried upon his forehead, directing a pair of nurses to an injured man, the female elf and female human placing him onto a hessian stretcher, picking it up and taking him away. Suddenly, he spotted the approaching Komodi fireteam, and raised his sword at the intruders.
“You! Halt!” he cried. Private Fas aimed his plasma rifle at him. Suddenly, the guard officer spotted Anya in the rear, and lowered his blade, his eyes widening in shock. “Anya?! Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me!” she answered, slithering to the front. Fas lowered his weapon, Vex motioning the rest forward.
“Who are these people?” the guard asked.
“Here to help, that’s all that matters,” Anya assured the wary guardsman. Vex approached.
“<Soldier>” she stated. Her authoritative bearing was enough to make even this officer of the guard stand to attention.
“Y-Yes?” he asked nervously.
“<Situation report. Where is your estimate on the enemy leader’s location?>” she asked.
“U-uh, in the square. She’s taken it as though she’s already won, set up her ‘throne’ there,” he informed.
“<And the rest of your forces?>”
“Busy fighting all over this side of the town, putting up barricades everywhere, keeping them on that side, getting people out… speaking of which, how the hell did you get in?” he demanded. “I ordered a barricade set up in that alley!”
“<There was no barricade>” Vex stated. The guardsman spat.
“Bastards! The volunteer as civilians, and then cut and run! We’re spread too thin as it is…” he cursed. He winced when Vex put her gauntleted hand on his shoulder.
“<What is your name, soldier?>” she asked.
“U-uh, Officer Wilks, ma’am,” he said.
“<Officer Wilks. Go find your commanding officer, whoever that may be. Tell them to begin evacuating civilians and your men immediately>” she advised.
“You mean leave?!” he blurted out. “We can’t! This is our home, and we will fight to the bit—“
“<I am well aware of the situation, Wilks>” she interrupted. “<I am not asking you to retreat. I want you to pull back, so when the rest of our forces arrive, you will not be caught in the crossfire. We will handle it from here. There is no point in fighting on; you are outnumbered and outmatched. If you leave it to us, there will be a minimum of bloodshed>”
Wilk’s mouth opened to protest, but Anya slithered up to him and rest her own hand on his shoulder.
“Trust me. You won’t convince them to let you fight on… besides, I feel it would be for the best,” she said. For a moment, it seemed as though Wilks wasn’t going to let it slide, but his shoulders slumped and he sighed out wearily.
“Alright,” he yielded. “I’ll do what I can, just… I hope you mean it.”
“Believe me, Wilks… a force is about to be unleashed that has not been seen on Praxis in its entire existence, no matter how small… I can understand your sentiment. I want to fight too. But they don’t like others getting in the way, so I suggest you just leave it to them,” she explained. Wilks sighed, and nodded.
“Fine… save our town… please,” he pleaded.
“<We shall do so with minimum collateral damage, but we can not guarantee that there will not be any destruction>” Vex warned.
“It doesn’t matter… we’ll rebuild… so long as the people live, and there’s land to settle, we’ll come back,” Wilks assured them. Vex nodded. She then turned to her fireteam, and gestured for them to vault over the barricade. As she walked to join them, Wilks leaned in close to Anya.
“Is there a reason you brought half a dozen automatons?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“They’re not automata,” she corrected. “They’re Komodi soldiers. And they are going to help.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said, before turning around and breaking into a run, heading off to spread the word. Anya would turn to follow Fireteam Beta Two Four.
The end was nigh.
As they neared the centre of town, the signs of fighting grew more severe; broken windows, burnt out dwellings… and blood. Blood everywhere. It made her feel stick to her stomach, and the acrid smell of smoke in the air didn’t make things easier, either. They kept to the alleyways, likely to avoid being spotted.
“<Watch those windows>” Enik advised. “<Watch for ambush routes>”
They moved low to the ground, almost crouching, their rifles aimed ahead and sweeping across the open spaces, whilst making sure to hug the walls. They reached a corner. Fas crouched, held up his fist in a halt gesture, and they all bunched up behind him. He peaked around the corner. Anya couldn’t see, but she could hear the sound of a body being dragged across the pavers. She still had a hard time understanding why they were going to take the diplomatic approach first. Then again, even Vex admitted they didn’t expect it to work. They were simply following protocol. Fas would make an ‘all clear’ sign, and the fireteam would move forward swiftly. Eventually, they spotted the town square, the Council building’s spire visible above the rooftops in front of them.
“<Visual on the square>” Fas alerted. Vex moved to his side.
“<Alright, Niv, you take up position in that building to the left. I want sweeping fire across the square. Fas, you go with him>” she ordered, gesturing to where they needed to go. “<Zin, you have the Scattergun. Take Bo with you and secure that alley ten metres ahead, then clear out the building adjacent to it, eliminating the snipers on the roof, but only when I give the order>” She pointed to said building, a five ashen archers atop it, armed with long bows. “<Enik, you take up position on top of this building here.” She pointed to the building opposite the one she’d commanded Niv and Fas to secure. “<Call out targets and engage at your discretion. Engage only when I give the order. That will be when the diplomacy fails. Once it does, adhere to EXCIDIUM Protocol. Understood?>”
With their orders given, the soldiers nodded, acknowledging in unison. Immediately, the five of them split up, Niv and Fas pushing open the door of the house next to them, the one overlooking the square. Anya watched as Bo and Zin crouched down by the corner, ready to sprint to the alleyway ahead. And then, Enik climbed up the building behind them, using the window sills and the bricks to scale the façade, clambering over the awning at the top.
“<In position>” came Enik’s voice. Deciding that the best place to remain out of the way whilst keeping an eye on the action was with Niv and Fas, so the lamia slithered into the house after them. When she joined the pair, she saw Niv placing the end of his ‘saw’ onto the frame of the window, Fas crouched behind a ruined door, a convenient hole ripped open from an axe providing him a firing port. Anya too hunkered beneath a window, peaking out over the frame. She had to choke back a gasp of horror as she saw Marie, the Mayor’s wife, badly beaten, her hands tied behind her back, on her knees with an axe-wielding Taint Pledged behind her. And standing several feet from them were two leather armoured Taint Pledged that held themselves differently to the others milling about in the square, a man and a woman… the latter exuding a sinister, evil aura. Her eyes were black as bitch, her hair dark as obsidian. Her features were beautiful, if one could overlook the truly malevolent impression her facial features expressed. Beside her, a man with red-streaked hair and orange eyes observed the Council Building, a calm demeanour adorning his countenance. The woman next to him was far less composed.
“So the coward still hides within his panic room,” she muttered. “How unexpected. To think he’d have an enchanted shelter… annoying.”
“It is indeed problematic, Lady Jarvis,” the man, her subordinate it seemed, remarked.
“Don’t patronise me, Torin!” she snapped. She then went quiet, taking a moment to compose herself. With a sigh, she calmed. “No matter… once he learns the guards he sent failed to fetch her, he will be much more… cooperative.” A wicked smile pursed her lips, sauntering over to the battered Marie, drawing an onyx dagger, stained red with blood. She pressed the keen edge to Marie’s jugular, her throat gulping as a sob escaped her lips. “Such a pretty thing~” Jarvis mused with wicked delight. Her tongue flickered across her lips. “I bet her blood is beautiful, Torin~”
“Indeed,” he agreed, though his attention seemed much more focused on the Council Building. Jarvis cackled, before stepping away from Marie, joining her subordinate.
“What of that fool of a Baron, Herman Arestite or whatever his name is… he should be here by now,” she wondered.
“Perhaps he saw the battle and fled?” Torin suggested.
“No, the lecherous pig would want his payment… even fools keep me waiting… annoying,” she growled in disgust. It was at that moment that Sergeant Cet made her move, marching out into the courtyard, attracting the attention of more than a few of the pale marauders. She’d left her weapon in the alley.
“<She left her rifle>” Niv stated to Fas.
“<She has her pistol. She would not go completely unarmed. Just be ready to put down supressing fire>” Fas reassured.
“<Understood>”
As Vex approached the pair of Taint Pledged commanders, the one named Jarvis turned to face her, her eyes lighting up in curiosity.
“Oh? And who is this… this… automaton…” she quizzed. “Some last-ditch hope of the fools of this town?”
“<I am Sergeant Vex Cet of the Komodi Military!>” she introduced, her voice’s volume turned up.
“Oh, so you speak… Sergeant Vex Cet… what a mouthful…” Jarvis muttered, twirling her dagger in her fingers. “What ever is it you require from Lady Jarvis?”
“<Immediate discussion on the current conflict>” Vex answered.
“Do you now…” she mocked. “Well then, I’ll gladly oblige, but first, do tell me what happened to a certain Baron Herman Adelix or whatever it is… he was supposed to meet me here.”
“<As I have been briefed, one of my subordinates engaged the Baron in an effort to protect civilian life, and in the ensuing firefight, he was killed by my subordinate>” she revealed. Jarvis tapped her dagger to her lips.
“I see… shame. I was hoping to see his face when I stabbed him in the gut myself… ‘but we had a deal’ he would say,” she imitated mockingly, smirking wickedly. “Fool doesn’t know when he’s being played… now the merchants will walk straight into a trap. Still, I guess there’s no harm in having someone else do the deed without even asking. Now, what is it you wished to talk about? I need some entertainment~”
“<My demands are as follows—“
“Demands?” Jarvis laughed, sounding genuinely amused, her tone mocking. “You Demand? Oh, this is entertaining… do go ahead. I wish to hear them~”
“<As I said, my demands are as follows; the immediate cessation of all hostilities upon the township of Coteburgh, the immediate withdrawal of all military forces from the region surrounding Coteburgh, the immediate disbanding of all military forces under your command, and the immediate dismantling of all military assets at your disposal>” Vex listed. Anya was speechless.
“This is what counts as diplomacy?” she thought. It was little more than threats. Jarvis was far more amused, her cackles filling the town square.
“Ah ha! Hahahaha! By the Dark One, that is hilarious. Anything else, miss champion of the fools?”
“<If you do not comply, EXCIDIUM Protocol will be enacted, and anyone who does not surrender to our custody will be terminated. This is your only warning>” Vex threatened, her unwavering professionalism eerie with the artificial voice from her translated speech. Jarvis’ eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Terminated, you say… I’m sorry, but I’m a little busy. I have a town to conquer… now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve grown bored of your little show of words…” she stated, gesturing for the axe wielding Taint Pledged to execute his charge… Marie. He nodded, and raised his axe. Anya’s hand went to her mouth in horror.
“Please no…” she pleaded to herself. Her headset buzzed.
“<Ven, engage executioner!>” she ordered. In the next moment, there was a short, sharp crack, and the crown of the Taint Pledged’s head exploded in a shower of vaporous blood. He fell backwards, his axe clattering to the ground behind him. Jarvis stumbled, startled by the sudden death of her Peon.
“What in hell!?” she cried out. She whipped around, watching Vex draw her pistol. Immediately she fired, winging Torin in the shoulder. He cried out in agony, dropping to the ground in a spin.
“<Fireteam, engage hostiles!>” came her command.
With that single order, all hell broke loose.
“<Open fire!>” Fas shouted. He shouldered his rifle, and bursts of energy spat forth. Niv would pull the trigger of his ‘saw’, and a torrent of lethal blue bolts sprayed forth. He swept his fire across the square, dropping half a dozen Taint Pledged as Vex moved to rescue Marie. Firing her pistol at the nearest threats, she wasn’t able to turn to take on an injured Torin moving to stab her in the back. He didn’t get the chance. His face erupted, the dead commander flung backwards from the force. Firing her pistol the entire time, blue vaporous energy seeping from its vents, Vex brought Marie back to the alleyway.
“<Stay here!>” Vex commanded, picking up her rifle. She looked to Bo and Zin. They nodded. “<Covering fire!>” She looked back to the two waiting soldiers. “<Move move move!>”
At that, they sprinted for the target building. Arrows flew at them, harmlessly bouncing off their armour. Zin kicked the door down. A Taint Pledged soldier prepared to fire a crossbow at point blank range direct into his neck. Zin fired first. A volley of seven plasma bolts slammed into the quasi-human’s chest, ripping it open, vaporising organs in the projectiles’ immediate path, exposing ribs and blasting a hole in his back. Bo aimed over Zin’s shoulder, firing a barrage of shots into two rushing enemies. They rushed in, moving out of Anya’s sight. The air was filled with electricity, rapid-fire cracks and zaps melting into one another into an almost constant drone. At that moment, the projection of light in front of her resolved into something more solid… before suddenly, she was seeing through the eyes of another; a plasma rifle extended past her body, as though she were holding it herself. Flashes of blue erupted from its tip, each one hitting its mark. Numerous symbol, shapes and other displays adorned the borders of the projection, all relaying incomprehensible information… at least, incomprehensible to Anya. Enik, who’s vision it was, likely interpreted every last character of date.
“<Now you watch, Anya>” he said, before shouting, “<Alleyway, left flank, thirty meters, house with the exposed red bricks!>”
From said alleyway came a stream of angry Taint Pledged, waving around assorted implements of suffering. Immediately, Niv swept his ‘saw’ to the left, cutting down the charging raiders with a long, protracted stream of plasma bolts, red mist erupting from the points of impact.
“Don’t just offer yourselves up on a platter!” Jarvis screamed, hiding behind a statue standing in front of the Council Hall. “Sweep around, overrun them! Kill them all!” Soon, waves of Taint Pledged soldiers were siphoning into the alleyways, attempting to flank the Komodi soldiers. Many were cut down. Reinforcements from the alley ahead of them were surprised from the sides, Zin firing his volleys of plasma at passing marauders from the doorway. He flicked a button, and several fins popped up around the end of the weapon’s hexagonal tip. He leaned out, firing a now wide scatter of plasma projectiles, catching two enemies at once in its cone of fire. As he vented waste energy, Bo kept him covered, supressing the enemy coming down the alleyway. The archers up top were nowhere to be seen.
“<Ven, enemy commander is attempting to escape!>” Fas alerted. Sure enough, Jarvis had broken into a sprint, attempting to flee the opposing firepower of the Komodi. Through Enik’s vision, Anya watched as the sharpshooter fired. He hit her in the thigh, blowing a large chunk of flesh from it, exposing the tendons and bone beneath. She screamed, but as she collapsed, she fell behind the corner of a building, Enik’s second shot putting a crater in the brick wall. More Taint Pledged flooded into the Square and into the alleyways.
“<Fas, with me, enemies flanking to the left!>” Vex informed. Without preamble, Fas pulled away from the ruined door he was using as cover, running outside and joining his superior. As soon as he did, a group of enemies rounded a corner at the other end of the alley, flooding in from another side passage between buildings. They let out a war cry, charging towards the pair. From Enik’s view above, the lamia could see them approaching, Enik taking shots at them. Below, Fas took a cylindrical canister from his belt. It was ringed with ridges that ran its length. He twisted the top, causing a button to pop up on its top. He pressed it down. Lights appeared around the angled ring upon its upper surface, another forming with each additional second, starting out yellow, gradually turning orange.
“<Frag out!>” he warned, tossing the canister in amongst the charging group. In the next second, Anya was almost blinded as a bright, blue explosion lit up her projection. She felt the shockwave in the building she hid in. As she opened her eyes again, she noted none of the enemy were standing, even those that seemed to have escaped the blast radius; the closest corpse’s back was bleeding profusely from numerous holes in his flesh, his back shredded from shrapnel. The walls of the buildings closest to the epicentre were scorched black, the ground directly below where the ‘frag’ bomb landed a glossy, glassy crater the size of a melon. It was an impressive weapon, but Anya grew increasingly concerned; more Taint Pledged kept coming… could six people really hold off a horde of Taint Pledged, even with their skills and weapons? Then, another unfamiliar voice blared through her headset.
“<Fireteam Beta Two Four, this is dropship Gamma One Thirty, inbound on your position, Fireteams Beta Two Two, Alpha One Three and Alpha One One aboard. Razor Combat Vehicle prepped for immediate deployment. Please Acknowledge, Beta Actual>” the voice stated.
“<Gamma One Thirty, this is Beta Two Four Actual, acknowledged. Requesting immediate air support, danger close. Marking targets now>” Vex responded.
“<Solid Copy, Beta Actual. Stand by for target designation. Plasma turret online, ASMs armed and prepped. Awaiting your mark, Beta Actual>” the voice confirmed. As if to signal its appearance, Anya heard it; a high pitched, growling whine mixed with a menacing whooshing of air. It grew louder, until the building she hid in was shaking, a large shadow looming over the square. Taint Pledged either fled in terror or stood frozen in disbelief. And when Anya saw it through the head piece, her jaw dropped; it was the vessel she had first seen the other day, the four protrusions on either side of the ship pivoting, keeping the craft stable. Blue energy lit the inner rings of the protrusions, generating a sizable downdraft. Underneath the nose, the twin pipes swivelled and rotated… except, Anya knew those weren’t pipes… they were bigger guns.
“<Marking Targets now>” came Enik’s voice. Anya watched as he ‘painted’ triangular symbols in his vision, corresponding with areas of enemy concentration, using his rifle to pinpoint the targets.
“<Target Acquisition confirmed, commencing attack, danger close>” the voice in the ship said. And with that, the guns swivelled, and locked on… and to this day, Anya can never forget the shear dreadful power unleashed by those twin engines of destruction. She could hardly discern any distinction between each bolt of energy, far more powerful than what the Komodi soldiers below wielded. The rapid-fire cracks, almost like a woeful buzz, filled the air as the opposite side of the square was shredded, walls torn up and enemies cut down, sometimes literally in half. Screams and wails drowned out the thunderous cracking of the ship’s weapons. The dropship swung over to the other side of the square, hovering above the Council Hall. Admittedly, from this angle, Anya could see the hundred foot vessel was not as large as it seemed on the ground… but it was no less imposing… and with its twin guns blazing, was almost as terrifying as a dragon… only, its carnage was much more directed, precise. That made it even worse. As the dust and the smoke cleared, what few Taint Pledged that miraculously survived unscathed retreated back to their end of the town, those not unscathed but not dead groaning in agony. One gasped in horror at his intestines strewn across the ground, his lower body lying in pieces mere feet away. Anya vomited. The Komodi soldiers, however, were not so squeamish.
“<Fireteam, fan out. Mercy authorised>” Vex commanded. Her soldiers left their positions, sweeping into the square whilst the dropship loomed overhead. The six of them then began systematically executing the mortally wounded and dying, quick, clean shots to the head. Anya, watching through Enik’s system, had a front row seat to this almost barbaric act; it was, however, as Vex said; mercy. Not even the Komodi could heal the wounds those Taint Pledged suffered.
“<Beta Two Four Actual, be advised, landing of troops commencing>” the man in the dropship notified. Hatches on the side of the ship opened up, a soldier on either side manning a weapon similar to Niv’s ‘saw’, albeit even larger. They swept their guns over the area, whilst two teams of six, one on each side, dropped down from the vessel, using the cables in their right arms to rappel to the ground. A third team appeared from the back, also dropping to the ground… though what followed them was just another marvel in the Komodi arsenal; a machine, like a cart, being dropped untethered from its belly, held in the same spacious compartment she’d spied open when first laying eyes on it. It landed upon the stone pavers of the square, bouncing on four arm booms acting as suspension, the ‘wheels’ spherical balls. Atop was a rotating compartment, a large gun like that mounted on the sides of the troop compartment of the dropship attached to it. A soldier stuck out from the top of this segment, freely rotating from side to side.
“<Razor deployed>” came a voice. The now two dozen Komodi soldiers with their feet upon the ground formed up around one of their number; the symbol on his armour was similar to Vex’s, except it had two additional triangles, sitting above the ones flanking the central shape.
“<Lieutenant Gep>” Vex said, providing the same salute Enik gave her.
“<Sergeant Major>” he greeted. “<Gamma One Thirty indicates there are few civilians left on this side of town, but thermals show there are pockets of survivors hiding in some of the buildings, as well as groups of soldiers. Check your fire and keep an eye on your visuals and sensors. Where possible, escort them behind the line. The Razor will be limited to the main streets, so you will be deployed on either side. Take your squad, split your fireteams, and sweep and clear the southeast corner. Gamma One Thirty will remain on station to provide fire support. Any Questions Sergeant Major?>” he briefed.
“<None, sir>” Vex assured.
“<Then you have your orders. EXCIDIUM Protocol is in effect. If they fail to surrender, kill them>” the lieutenant reiterated. With an affirming nod, Vex barked an order at her fireteam and a second. After that, through Enik’s view, Anya watched them melt into the alleys and buildings of the south side of town, the ‘Razor’ practically gliding over the cobblestone of the central street.
And then, the fight truly commenced.
Through the headset provided to her, Anya watched in awe and fear as she tracked Enik’s progress from his point of view. Crackling and explosions filled the air, as the four teams of six, supported by the angular ‘Razer’ machine and the dropship – Gamma One Thirty – began systematically engaging and purging the invading Taint Pledged from the town with brutal efficiency.
“<Clear left!>” Enik shouted, aiming his plasma rifle down a passageway between buildings.
“<Clear right!>” a comrade echoed, the rest of his team filing through the alley. Ahead, a dagger-wielding Taint Pledged leapt out from a window, screaming. He went down with a new hole in his chest, Enik’s aim lethally precise.
“<Beta Two Four, this is Overwatch, be advised, you have hostiles in the building ahead. Thermal shows single group of hostages on the lower floor. Ten hostiles in the building with them; seven on the lower floor, three snipers in the top>”
“<Acknowledged, Overwatch>” Vex confirmed. She turned to Enik, Bo and Zin. “<You three, breach and clear. Dazzlers only>” The view nodded, Enik then moving over to the steps leading up to a raised door. Just above the lowest step was a window into the lower floor. The six Komodi pressed to the wall behind the three ‘breaching’ soldiers. Enik pulled another cylindrical bomb from his belt, this one lacking the vertical ribbing, being much more rounded and coloured a bright white on its upper ring. He twisted the upper cap, like Fas did with the ‘frag’, blue lights flashing rapidly.
“<Dazzler out!>” He tossed the bomb through the window, smashing it in the process. Startled shouts – Taint Pledged and hostage alike – were suddenly drowned out by a short, deafening bang! Bright light shone through the windows for a split second.
“<Breaching!>” Zin cried, kicking the door down, Enik hovering over his shoulder. Inside, several hostages, wrists tied together, writhed on the floor, whilst the seven Taint Pledged stumbled around, hands on ears or covering eyes. Zin blasted a close enemy with a volley of plasma, ignoring the other recovering marauders; Enik and Bo took care of them for him, quickly efficiently. The last charged Zin, leaping for him to engage in a grapple. Zin twisted his body, left hand grasping the end of his scattergun, his right gripping the back of the Taint Pledged’s head, throwing him down to the ground. Bo blew his brains across the floorboard. With the seven below dead, they moved to secure the hostages, Vex leading the other two up the stairs without stopping. Flashes and electric cracks.
“<Snipers down>” Vex confirmed.
“<Acknowledged, Beta Two Four>” ‘Overwatched’ replied. “<Extract civilians and link up with Beta Two Two. Overwatch out>”
Without further pause, the soldiers freed the hostages, still slightly dazed from the ‘dazzler’ stun bomb, requiring them to be lead out. Once escorted safely to a point they deemed they could flee themselves, the Komodi directed the civilians to flee. With grateful thanks, they blessed the armoured soldiers, before turning and running.
“<Civilians secure, rendezvousing with Fireteam Beta Two Two>” Vex said. They turned around, heading back through the side streets and alleyways, homing in on the sounds of fighting… loud, electric cracks, pops, bangs and one-sided screams of pain. Overhead, the dropship hovered, turning to put its right side facing a group of Taint Pledged on rooftop, one flinging fireballs at one of the other Komodi fireteams. The door gunner cut them down with a slow sweep of his mounted gun, the swivelling weapons beneath the nose suppressing a charge upon the fireteam below from the passage to their left. With the Taint Pledged dead, the fireteam pushed into a dwelling ahead, blue flashes lighting up from the windows as they cleared the structure of the enemy. Fireteam Beta Two Four joined Two Two.
“<Glad you could make it>” the leader of the second team greeted Vex. “<Got a large amount of hostiles in the warehouse ahead. Thermal shows they have set up a barricade at the entrance. Also, place smells like fish in>” he added.
“<Understood. Corporal Ven, you take Niv and Fas with you, keep the enemy from escaping>” she turned to the leader of the other team. “<You have the Launcher, blow the barricade, sweep through the building. Any that run will go straight to Ven. Move it>”
The other officer nodded, motioning towards a soldier with a large, elongated, angular trunk of metal resting over his shoulder. The man nodded, and moved to position himself ahead of the door, aiming his ‘launcher’ at it, another moving to the door and setting up a small ‘box’, all as his comrades positioned themselves against the wall either side of the door, ready to sweep in. It began making high pitched noises, and they braced themselves.
BOOM!
The satchel exploded in a blue fireball, destroying the heavy steel doors of the fish stores. Moments later, the soldier with the launcher fired something akin to fireworks… only, it was so fast, one could blink and miss it. There was a second explosion. Screams.
“<Go go go!>” The soldiers swept in, weapons blazing. Smoke filled the building, billowing forth from the entrance. Taint Pledged wouldn’t have been able to see through it. The Komodi could. At the rear of the warehouse, the loading doors leading onto the docks slid open, coughing, retreating Taint Pledged fleeing the onslaught from inside… straight into Enik’s and his two comrades’ field of fire. Niv opened up with his ‘saw’, cutting them down as they came, Enik and Fas picking off the stragglers. No more than thirty seconds since they breached the warehouse, did the rest of the soldiers exit the loading entrance. The Taint Pledged were slaughtered.
“<Hostiles eliminated>”
“<All Fireteams, this is Overwatch, be advised, hostiles amassing at the southern outskirts of town. Repeat, retreating hostile forces regrouping at southern outskirts of town>” Overwatch alerted.
“<Ackowledged Overwatch, Beta Actual out>” Vex turned to her comrades, then to Enik, her second in command. They all nodded. They were ready to break the back of Lady Jarvis’ little campaign. They grouped together, advancing through the streets of the retaken southern side of the town, spilling onto the main street, the Razer war machine advancing with them, the dropship circling above. Eventually, they reached the remaining Taint Pledged’s last stand, whatever they could find tipped over as makeshift barricades. A phalanx formation of shield wielding Taint Pledge push towards the Razer. The gunner swivelled his cupola in the direction of the approaching enemies. He fired, the plasma bolts ripping through the flimsy wooden and iron shields, red mist erupting from the helpless Taint Pledged. Vex led her squad forward, the other two fireteams already engaging the enemy. And ahead was the final card the Taint Pledged had to play; a siege engine, a massive cart clad in iron plates, slots cut into the metal to allow spears and arrows through, the end tapering into a solid wood and iron ram, meant for crashing through castle doors. And standing atop on an exposed viewing platform was none other than Lady Jarvis herself, beaten and bruised, bleeding and wounded, but still very much alive. She screamed orders at her dwindling peons, doing whatever she could to rally them; her face was one of desperation and denial. She would not flee. She couldn’t. Her campaign was flawless, she couldn’t run, she needed to win… it was impossible for her to lose, victory was guaranteed. The Taint Pledged couldn’t accept that her defeat had already happened. Checkmate had been declared. All that was left for her was a single, final desperate stand to the death.
“Push them back! Push them back! PUSH THE BACK!” she screeched, a wild insanity raging behind her obsidian eyes. All around her, her men fell, bolts of plasma hitting the iron plates of her siege engine, the armour bubbling away. She conjured lightning in her hand, and cast it towards the Komodi soldiers. The lance of electricity struck a soldier, rupturing their armour and knocking them to the ground, a blackened, bloodied, jagged hole in their chest plate.
“<Man down, man down!>” a corporal shouted. “<Medic!>”
The downed Komodi groaned, drawing his pistol and firing at the enemy. One of his comrades rushed to his aid, pulling him out of harm’s way, the wounded man all the while discharging his pistol. Another soldier went to his side, pulling out a kit and a foam bandage canister, applying the substance to the hole, stemming the bleeding. A normal human soldier would’ve been completely fried. He was seriously injured, but alive and stabilised.
“<This is Alpha One One Actual>” came a voice over the ‘coms’ “<Requesting immediate fire mission. Heavy ordnance, danger close. How copy Gamma One Thirty?>”
“<Alpha One One Actual, this is Gamma One Thirty, fire mission request confirmed, HEAP One ready to fire…>” The dropship hovered into position, compartments on the upsweeping sides of its belly, towards the nose, opening, rotating racks of angular, sharp rods with fins along their lengths, like oversized, shortened ballista bolts. “<… HEAP One launch>”
A plume of fire erupted from one of these ports, a lance of explosive death hurtling towards the enemy. Jarvis, in a final moment of defiance, screamed like a banshee at the craft, before the rocket hit the front glacis plate of the Siege Engine, puncturing its armoured face before detonating within. The primitive war machine was consumed in a blue plasma fireball, metal shards lashing out at everything around, ripping into unfortunate Taint Pledged marauders, the Komodi Soldiers just behind a crumbling stone wall taken cover until the shrapnel had stopped flying. And with that, all that remained was the mop up. And through it all, Anya had witnessed this from Enik’s viewpoint, and finally, she understood. Understood why Enik was hesitant to act alone, always trying to do everything for her, always trying to keep her safe; it was not individual might the Komodi coveted, but the strength as a whole. There were many orders, many doctrines, in the world of Praxis that exalted the power of Unity, but never has the concept been so flawlessly executed. Through close cohesion and coordination, less than thirty men had retaken a town against a force ten times their number, superior technology and firepower notwithstanding. Individual valour was not simply something they didn’t do, but wholly discouraged where it puts the lives of others at risk. Their entire method of operation hinged around small units operating as part of a much larger whole, all coordinating in an effort to achieve an ultimate strategic goal, but possessing tactical flexibility and autonomy at the individual team level, tackling different objectives at once. It was swift, precise aggression, brutally efficient, measured and unrelenting. What it would take a force of Luminaire Soldiers a day to do – perhaps more – the victory hard won, this small band of other worldly infantrymen have done in little more than an hour, they’re weapons, training, coordination and machines utterly breaking the enemy’s bodies, and, their resolve as well; a hard thing to do with the prideful Taint Pledged. The remaining survivors, now that their mistress was dead, fled south, the sun setting over the furthest western reaches of the sealed sea, bathing the liberated Coteburgh in fiery light. Anya had witnessed all of this from Enik’s perspective, seen how he was a part of the Komodi machine of war… it both terrified and amazed her. And, as she slithered out to the burning field of the Taint Pledged’s last stand, she watched the Komodi soldiers fan out, checking the dead, providing mercy deaths for the terminally injured, and gathering what few unscathed survivors laid down their weapons. Enik and his Sergeant Major, Vex, marched over to the flaming skeleton – and there was little of that left – of the destroyed siege engine… whereupon, suddenly, a sheet of iron shifted, and groaning in pain upon the ground was the badly burned, still living Lady Jarvis. Her face was remarkably intact, still possessing that twisted beauty… though now, marred by savage rage and insanity. The rest of her body, however, was not as fortunate, what skin not covered by leather armour stripped away, warped and rippled. Her black eyes burned with hate, fixated on the pair of soldiers watching her.
“You… no… fools… rally!” she rasped, commands to a non-existent force. “Push… push them back… cowards!” She screamed the last word at Enik and Vex. The former slung his rifle on his back, drawing his pistol, marching over to the crippled Jarvis, her right leg missing, a stump of ragged, bloody ribbons of flesh all that remained, the jagged end of the broken bone sticking forth from the burned muscle. Enik aimed his pistol at her head.
“<As outlined in Article Three point Four ‘B’ of the EXCIDIUM Protocol, any enemy commander that does not surrender in a timely fashion, and refuses to surrender after capture, and is deemed of unstable mental capacity and continues to incite hostile action is to be terminated duly>” Enik recited. He then turned to Vex. “<Permission to speak freely?>”
“<Permission granted, Corporal>” Enik nodded, before turning to face Jarvis once again. He pressed the button on the side of his helmet, the plates sliding back to reveal his face. Anya observed his visage; steely, cold, but angry.
“Vag ik blex,” he uttered in his native tongue.
Jarvis spat. Enik pulled the trigger.
CRACK!
Jarvis’ head lolled to the side, a steaming hole in her forehead. Enik pressed the button on his helmet again, sealing his head within its confines yet again.
“<Rot in hell>” he translated.
It was finally over.
The night was filled with jubilation, and sorrow; whilst the battle was won, their home spared utter destruction, the people of Coteburgh mourned those that fell, the guards who, whilst small in number and lacking in skill and experience, gave it their all to uphold their duty, and the simple townsfolk who took up arms against the invaders, and all those who were murdered at Jarvis’ orders. But the celebration was euphoric, the townsfolk and the mayor himself pleading for the saviours of the town, those four fireteams of Komodi marines and their support machines and crew, who saved the lives of hundreds, to join them in their celebration, despite it being ‘against regulations’ for them… but as it happened, the leader behind all of them, a one Captain Geta Biv, ‘ordered’ the soldiers involved to remain behind to ‘debrief the local inhabitants’. The town was pleased, though it was rather obvious the Komodi felt a bit… culturally awkward. Moreover, they were seemingly oblivious to the constant flirting by women – human and mamonme alike – as well as the odd man. They participated in the food and drink and frivolities of the night with helmets off, a sign of respect. The following morning, however, came with responsibility, the townspeople working doubly hard to remove the rubble caused by the conflict yesterday, cleaning and repairing their town, the Komodi soldiers continuing to provide assistance. Anya was involved in the work as well, helping in whatever was required of her, currently transporting cartons of nails to a temporary repair job at the fish warehouse. While the damage caused by the Komodi’s weapons was extensive, most agreed that it was localised and certainly repairable. It helped that they apologised for any and all damage they made to buildings in their efforts to expel the Taint Pledged. As she slithered through the street towards the docks, she heard a young voice calling her name excitedly.
“Anya! Anya! Anya!”
She turned around, and beamed upon spotting Sasha running up to her with a happy smile, lanky but overall much healthier since being freed from slavery, a trip to the medical tent set up by the Komodi field surgeons to treat wounds from the siege doing wonders for his wellbeing. She’d taken a trip to the hospital herself, and was surprised to see the Impundulu she’d seen shot out of the sky by the Komodi those two days ago alive and well, undergoing therapy for her injuries and rehabilitation. She was amiable towards the Komodi by that point, treated well. As it was, they mistook her for an attacker, and acted accordingly, whilst she was simply defending her nest. In the end, she allowed them to treat her, and they say she’ll eventually be ready to fly again, after some more surgeries. She’d also spotted Milt and Marie there, attending to the wounded, helping the Komodi medics as nurses, though the former wouldn’t admit she was really only there to nurture a recovering Cyril, who’d regained consciousness. There was the barest scar upon his stomach where he’d been cut by none other than Jarvis herself, the treatment he received effective and immediate. Truly, their medical technology was as impressive as their tools of war. Though even then, Sasha wasn’t supposed to be running around like he was. She stooped low, wrapping her arms around the boy joyfully.
“Sasha! There you are!” she cooed happily, ruffling his hair, causing the young boy to laugh. She then adopted a gentle yet stern expression. “You know you shouldn’t be running around like that. The good Komodi doctor said you should rest.”
Sasha gave her a sheepish look, chuckling nervously.
“But I wanted to say hello!” he chirped happily.
“I know, and I’m glad you did,” she admitted with a happy grin, ruffling his hair once more, before standing up. “Come on, let’s go say hi to Enik.” Sasha beamed, holding the lamia’s hand as she led him to the docks. They found Enik working with a group of overly flirtatious mermaids, oblivious – or ignorant – to their passes at him, helping assemble a temporary pier, the rest burned by the Taint Pledge in a surprise first strike. Anya grumbled in annoyance at the promiscuous mermaids, before calling out to Enik.
“Hey there~”
Enik turned around, and clapped his hands together.
“<Anya, Sasha! Good to see you!>” he answered. Anya noticed that the artificial voice of his suit’s translation was gradually growing more emotive. It still didn’t sound like him, but it was better than sounding like a machine devoid of heart.
“How are you?” she asked, resting her hand on his shoulders.
“<Doing well… these ‘mermaids’ are fascinating creatures, though I’m not so sure they’re entirely helping me out of ‘good will’>” he muttered. Anya laughed.
“They just want to get into your pants,” she joked. Both Sasha and Enik cocked their heads.
“<I’m not sure I follow>”
“I don’t get it?”
Anya laughed again.
“Oh, you’ll figure it out,” she teased, before looking down at Sasha. “And I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Sasha pouted grumpily, folding his arms over his chest. The lamia giggled, before returning her attention to Enik.
“So then, what now? With you, I mean?” she asked, sounding somewhat disheartened. She had mixed feelings about Enik over the last few days, rather rocky initially, but over these short two days, she’d come to learn a great deal about him, especially who he was; a kind, caring person, regardless of his race. Knowing that she may never see him again, leaving to trek over the vast gulfs of space back to his home, left a bitter feeling in her heart.
“<Well, your Mayor and the Captain are meeting in unofficial talks to establish peace with your town, and to establish a deal of mutual secrecy>” he explained.
“What do you mean?” Anya asked curious.
“<What we have done over the past few days has far exceeded mission parameters. We’ve broken numerous protocols revealing ourselves like this… this world is not ready for us. We intend to act in a clandestine fashion, insinuating undercover operatives into various populations, passing as just another species of humanoid, like you ‘mamonme’, living on this world of Praxis. We will maintain an oath of protection and secrecy with the people of Coteburgh; on their honour, you mayor swears that he and his people will not speak of the technological power we possess. That will remain a secret known only to the people of Coteburgh.>” Enik said, looking out over the Sealed Sea.
“I… see… and these… ‘undercover operatives’… what are their purpose… or can’t you tell me?” she asked.
“<Only that they are to live alongside the people of this world, as well as learn about it without exposing them to the wider picture. Truthfully, the Komodi Unity has more important matters to them, so only a small force could ever be deployed here… we’re not conquerors, Anya. This world is just not ready for us… and in a way… we’re not ready for it>”
“What do you mean by that?”
“<Magic… where we come from… it’s a fantasy… a fairy tale. An impossibility. We would need time to understand it… get used to it… in the meantime, we’ll keep to the shadows, and slowly establish peaceful relations with the societies of this world>” He turned back around, grasping Anya’s shoulders. “<And I have already volunteered to be the local liaison between Coteburgh and commanding officers>”
It took a moment for the implications of his statement to sink into Anya.
“You mean… you’re… staying? But, what will your leaders say?” she queried, worried.
“<Both Sergeant Major Cet and Captain Biv have recommended me to do so, citing my experience with the language and the local populace>” he answered.
“You mean time with a grumpy injured lamia?” Anya joked. Enik laughed. As did Sasha, though he wasn’t sure what he was laughing about.
“<Indeed… speaking of which, how is the wound?>” he asked. Anya smiled, pulling down the collar of her shirt to show a faint scar.
“Like they said, the biofoam came off easily, and they just sealed up the wound. You did everything, mostly,” she praised, blushing slightly. She watched the water of the Sealed Sea ripple gently in the wind. “So… you’re staying… do you know where?”
“<Arrangements have already been made>” he said. Anya looked away somewhat dejectedly.
“Oh… I see… well, you should talk to Sasha. He wanted to see you too,” she said, looking at the fidgeting boy.
“<So I noticed>” Enik remarked, crouching down in front of the boy. “<How are you?>”
“Good, good!” he chirped, making muscles with his arms. “Getting strong! I’m going to be as strong as you! Become a hero and save all the people and slay the bad guys!” Enik laughed.
“<I see… in that case, you should probably take it easy for a while. Get better, put on some mass, let your body get healthy again. Then, you can start training>”
“Don’t encourage him,” Anya chastised. “I don’t want him getting hurt.”
Sasha pouted, and Enik cocked his head.
“<You?>” he queried. Anya smiled.
“Sasha has no known family… he doesn’t remember them, sadly. So, I’ve taken him in,” she answered.
“<You mean you’ve adopted him as a son?>” Enik surmised. Anya blushed and muttered in embarrassment.
“Well, uh, I uh guess you could say that, yes.”
“<Good… he needs a family… now, I must get back to work>” he said.
“I see… well, good luck to you,” she uttered, turning to leave with Sasha.
“<Anya>” Enik uttered, followed by the sounds of his helmet folding back.
“Yes?” Anya responded, turning to go face to face with the handsome Enik. The Komodi was smiling, and took both her hands into his.
“Friend,” he uttered. “Good friend… family.”
Anya’s eyes lit up, understanding in her eyes. She then smiled, and nodded, grasping his gauntleted hands in return.
“Yes… family,” she repeated, smiling lovingly. Sasha looked up between them, beaming in joy; even he understood the implications here. They laughed, the both of them ruffling his head. As she watched one of the first fishing boats since the attack leave the docks to go about the town’s trade, she dove her hand into the pouch she’d worn for two days, fishing out the shard of ‘Sealed Sea Ivory’, the white polished fragment of Komodi Battle Plating glinting in the sunlight.
“Good omen of love indeed…” the lamia thought.
Praxis: First Contact
A story of the Fantastical meeting the Extra-Terrestrial
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SIERRA-116
- High Priestess
- Posts: 497
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2013 12:04 am
- Gender: Male
- Personal Title: MCPO Jason-116
- Favorite Monster Type: Snakes, slimes, Alraunes, bugs
- Location: Installation 05 "Green Zone" (Codename: Delta Halo GZ)
Praxis: First Contact
To find him, you must forget the stories...
Forget the legends...
You have to do more than walk in his footsteps...
For he is more than the sum of his actions...
I tell you this, not because I trust you...
But because all our lives are at stake...
Because the seeds of our future... are sown in his past...
Forget the legends...
You have to do more than walk in his footsteps...
For he is more than the sum of his actions...
I tell you this, not because I trust you...
But because all our lives are at stake...
Because the seeds of our future... are sown in his past...