Hello fellow fans of minecraft literature! I'm kmandy... Bugger. Where did I put that heavily thought out speech? Oh dear. Well I guess I'll have to do without. So I'm a novice writer. I like minecraft. So I decided to do the logical thing and write something about minecraft that completely twisted what Minecraft into a steampunk, fantasy, late 18th century world so that I could write an interesting story. Admittedly it takes a wee while to heat up, the parts are ridiculously long, character development is mixed (we can't all be 1Dani) and a lot of the humour is based on inside jokes and references. However, I promise that the plot is sufficiently convoluted, the random humour is passable and my descriptions are pretty damn good! Please tell me what you think of it below. What could I be doing better on? Who do you want to see more of? What do you think is going on?
Other Works in the same Universe
Believe it or not this world actually has a pretty detailed lore that I'm working on, and has been adapted from a number of other works. There are also a work that was adapted from it. Here they are in chronological order of when they happened in the world's history:
Before by Sangiin: Set millennia before the Overworld became what it is now there were beings. Before Divine, before the Endlings, before the dead wrenched themselves from the earth, before the strange ones (creepers) before Notch himself there were humans and Vithians and the gods. Behold the fall of this civilization through the eyes of Steve, the apprentice magician. and then learn of it's Rebirth in something I wrote in tribute and used the name of one of his characters. So it's canon now bitches!
The Trials and Events of King Qustom by Void420: In the days long before the establishments of the Great Crafts, before the Golden Revolution. Tn the brief time after the fall of the Obsidian Empire of the Endlings yet before the cloak of the True Court's influence was cast completely across the Old Continent, there were human kings who ruled it. One such king was Qustom, lord of House Vanilla. Watch as he struggles to maintain his kingdom, and turn it into a power that will stand the test of time.
The Tale Of Gaia Before Gaia by Astro Joe:In many ways a direct prequel to FAAR, following the characters of Kay, Aaron, Astro and the others who travelled with them in the years leading up to their arrival at the Vanilla Craft. Witness the plight of Astro, a young but well-trained wizard who, for economic reasons, travels across the sea to the safety of Zine Craft. But not all is what it seems. To the South the armies of Herobrine are readying to awake their master, and to the East the Endlings manoeuvre their soldiers in the shadows. Soon, loyalties are tested, and those the choices that are made by such previously insignificant individuals could shape the face of the Overworld for centuries to come.
Status: In process of writing. Will be released when completed.
The Sorrows of the Seven Kingdoms by Apostle Trivius: The direct inspiration for FAAR, set 4 or 5 years beforehand. Meet Dominus, Emperor of the Realm of Seven Kingdoms. For the last 7 years his people have lived in peace with the Brotherhood. However, this peace comes at a price. They pay protection money to the Brotherhood to guard them from raiders such as themselves. But now, as raiders become scarcer and scarcer, treaties begin to be ignored, and payments take longer and longer to provide. Both sides are at their breaking point. It's now just a question of who makes the first move.
We're still accepting character apps! here's the layout for one:
Name:
Age:
Species [Existing species are: Human; Divine; Thaum; Half-breed; Endling; Pigman (undead or alive); Undead]:
Gender:
Allegiance [Who they work for from what you've read in the story]:
Appearance/equipment:
Background/how they fit into the story:
Prologues and Appendices:
REBIRTH (Creation myth):
And so Steve at last faced the jaws of Infinity, the End. His people would be avenged. Ishinge would pay. But he knew not why. His world was still lost in shadows. Had his people been good and just? Had the dragon really destroyed it? Steve knew not. And he cared not. He simply understood that this was what had to be done.
He pulled out the last fabled gem, and considered it a moment. Should he really waste his life on the trivialities of a people long dead? Should he not seek to rebuild what they lost? To find those few who still breathed? Perhaps. But Steve knew not. And he cared not. And with that he opened Infinity's jaws and gave himself to them.
He awoke on a plinth of the black stone, with two of Ishinge's followers stood before him, the Endlings. They with their twisted black skin, their blade-like arms and legs, and their sword-like teeth. They with their gaping maws, with the shadow which exuded from their skin. They, the tainted ones.
They watched him, confused. They had destroyed these people in their war. The Endless War. Man had sought the power of gods. The power of Ishinge. They had been anointed by it, and it consumed them. So here man's last child stood before them. And they knew not what to do. It scared them.
Steve rose and demanded to see Ishinge, to settle affairs with him once and for all. One guard went back to the great Temple of Ishinge, on the floating isle of Terra. He knelt before the great dragon - he who sat atop the obsidian throne, and told him of the traveller. Ishinge pondered how to deal with this. He decided that the best way to slow this man down was to test him. Was he man or god? And so he twisted the Endling, making it stronger, more angry. More animalistic.
Steve grew impatient, and approached the Temple to the protests of the guard. He was about to set foot on the great stairs when the beast hurled itself down the stairs and landed before him on all fours.
"Who are you to believe you have the right to challenge a deity? Are you man? Or are you a god?" It asked in its rasping voice, panting like a great hound.
"No. I am your downfall. I am man." With that Steve beheaded it, and carried it's warped visage in his hand, and his sword in the other.
Then Ishinge sent the mother and father of the fallen guardsman.
"How did you end our son so quickly? Truly you must be a god to be so skilled in battle?" They asked of him.
Steve handed them the head back, and it was restored to it's youth. Before they could believe their eyes the body grew back into it's former shape.
"No. I am the bringer of justice. I am man." Steve answered.
Lastly, as Steve was about to throw open the great doors of the Temple, the guardsman's son hurled his spear at him. Steve grasped the spear and snapped it. Then, as the son charged with his sword, Steve felled him with a single blow.
"Why do I still live? Are gods not vengeful?" He asked, terror in his eyes.
"I am no god. I am man." Steve told him with finality. And Steve looked at the spear and it was healed. Steve gave him his life.
Thus, the first and last human entered the Temple of Ishinge. There sat the old god, atop his throne of obsidian, the source of his power. At the sight of Steve, Ishinge dropped from his plinth and stood before him, tossing his cloak of many furs aside.
"I give you one chance to leave mortal." Ishinge told him.
"I am no mortal. I am man." And Steve drew his sword once more and reshuffled his feet into a fighting stance. He tossed aside his brown cloak and glared at the god.
"So be it." Growled the lord of that realm.
With this statement Ishinge began to grow. His nails turned to claws. His pale skin turned black and grew scales. The hair atop his head receded into the skull. His eyes elongated into great purple slits. From his back sprouted great wings. He stood upon his hind legs and before Steve stood the great dragon.
From his mouth poured purple flame, which Steve just managed to avoid behind a pillar. He pulled from his back an arrow of steel. The string was stretched as far as it could go, and then flew at the dragon's snout. It struck the dragon on the left nostril and burst into flames, coating the dragon's head in fiery liquid. With Ishinge writhing like an eel out of water, Steve pulled the pickaxe from his back, and shattered the obsidian throne into many great shards. The old god shrieked and saw through the flames, he was vulnerable now.
The human drew his bow once more, aiming for his foe's neck, but with a whip of the tail the mighty bow lay in two pieces on the floor. With a breath of flame Steve was hiding behind the shards of the throne. Then in came the guardsman's son, who threw a rock at the dragon. Enraged, Ishinge bathed him in flame, but not before he could throw the Last Man's his spear. Before he could compute what had happened, Ishinge had a spear in his heart.
As Steve approached his fallen enemy, the dying god asked him, "What are you? If not a god, yet not mortal?"
So Steve answered him, "I have told you all you need to know."
And with the Steve stripped him of his power, and left the ashes of the god lying on the ground as Ishinge's Realm began to crumble.
Great gashes appeared in the skies of that world, leading to planes unknown. As the land began to break into thousands of small islands, the lucky ones fell into these rifts, escaping the creation of the empty world, The End.
Steve awoke once more in his world, daylight greeting him with zeal. He rose and looked around. He lay in a great plane, as the skies darkened and the Endlings re-entered the world. Except this time they were not here to make war. They were here to hide. He dismissed their arrival, and left the great pig-lords in their eternal apathy to deal with this crisis of their own making.
The Last Man knew what he must do. For years he journeyed, by land and by sea. Walking the whole way. With the power of the fallen god not even the boldest creatures of the night dared to stand against him. He was alone, and he was sad.
At last he reached his destination, the ends of the world. He stood on a small rowboat, beneath the floating isle of dust, staring into beyond the Veil of Sanity and into The Tempest. His right hand was raised before him, and with a flick of his sword the hand fell into the great fog of the Veil.
He pushed the boat in too, and swam back to shore, his each drop of blood creating fish as he went along. As he walked along the scorched earth of the Isle of Norwich, his blood caused grass the grow and the flowers to spring up. He raised his left hand, and from the ground sprang a throne of spruce. He sat in it, and willed the Earth to make for him a great tower of wood, and it obeyed.
When at last he finished rising, he raised the bloody stump, and sky struck the top of the tree, lighting it up, yet never consuming the leaves, creating an eternal lighthouse. And so the First Divine watched as his people poured forth into the world on boats, naked and confused, and he took them in.
The World as We Know it - 1874 P.G.R. (Post Golden Revolution)
Nearly 11 years have passed since the end of the Great Onslaught at the Battle of Zine Craft. Animperr IV, Father of the Obsidian Families was slain, and the proud families he presided over were reduced to squabbling children vying for father's spot. The traitorous Lord Israphel was crippled and arrested. Herobrine at last reunited with House Persson, ending the longstanding blood-feud. The Eastern Thaums were driven back into their mountains with a crippled army, licking their wounds as they went. Most importantly, Notch Ascended, and the godless Divines were protected at last. Since that day Jeb has taken the throne of the True Court of Mojang.
Seeing how close the Endlings had come to victory through Animperr's intervention, the Court of Whispers has grown bold. They see a chance to conquer the lands of the Divines and man. A chance for the reunification of the Old Continent, as it had been unified by the Obsidian Empire 7000 years before. However, they were not yet ready. The second the Onslaught ended they offered their protection to the Eastern Thaums. They then inserted a Father for the Obsidian Families in the form of Ceramthrop. They have sent out envoys to all their peoples; The Eastern Thaums; The Endlings; The Blazes; The Undead (skeletons to the ill-educated, not to be confused with the brainless zombies) and The Withered Ones. It is also rumoured that they are led by "ever-conniving brown mushrooms" and their King, Jeff, as ranted about by conspiracy theorists such as the ever-reliable "Professor" Proasheck of the Yogscast Theatre Company.
Meanwhile the Divines found themselves at a loss. The Thaums had to be punished, but they also couldn't afford war with the Court of Whispers. At the same time old technologies were coming out from the Waste and the Continent of Fugitar. Soon the people of the Crafts would have weapons to rival And so, narrow and crooked Dinner Bone came up with two of his winding schemes, each as snake-like as himself.
For the problem of the Thaums, "necessary sacrifices" were made. All Thaums were stripped of citizenship, and the regulations on obtaining it once more was tightened greatly. As promised by Herobrine during the Onslaught, the Southern Thaumlands received their autonomy. However, Dinner Bone was the one who oversaw it. First, he stripped bare their military. Then, he sent in six fleets of airships to burn every scrap of the rural Thaumlands. After that, he granted them their freedom, extraditing any Thaum without citizenship to the new nation whether they liked it or not.
For the problem of the rapid advancement, he spread superstition and rumour across the Inner Crafts. He fabricated miracles, paid off merchants to not bring in weapons, and turned away or arrested any who refused to cooperate. The mechanical weapons of the True Court, where made out to be mystical paperweights that man could never achieve without selling their souls. Grumm and he continued Notch's process of writing Steve out of history, and upped the process of placing the Divines as true creators of the worlds. Theses were spun from hollow words to define the Divines and humans of Mojang were genetically superior to the other peoples of the Overworld. Technological development was stunted. People became divided strictly into three camps by circumstance. Obscene patriots, sheep and cynics.
Meanwhile, across the water in the Vanilla Craft, one of the oldest and most well-travelled Crafts, it's Administrator, Void, opens it's borders to receive refugees and Great Houses from across the True Court's domain. Among them, the infamous warrior cult, The Brotherhood of The Try Hard Pants, The Republic of Irland, The Kingdom of Gaia and the Arcation clan. Also with them came Kay Mandy, otherwise known as Herobrine's Lapdog, a (now retired) leading figure in the Blind Watcher's army and his closest circle of friends.
Then 11 years passed, over which the two nations of the Craft (Red and Blue) splintered into warring factions, and Void was powerless to stop them. Kay was caught up in a personal war against the THP Brotherhood for the duration of these ten years, along with his friend, the Wizard Astro Joe. However, all of Kay's original party gradually worked their way into joining the aging King Peter of Gaia. For the next three years they worked together, continuing their private war against the Brotherhood and aiding in any other wars against them. Then, word reached Gaia of the Brotherhood's endgame.
The Brotherhood had journeyed into the depths of the Nether, and were returning with an army of Pigmen warriors. Their plan was to enter the Overworld through the Nether Highway, and from there destroy the other peoples of the Craft and pay fealty only to Void. Peter and the Gaian council organised a defensive campaign in the Nether, seizing control of the central hub, and doing all they could to hold them off. The Gaians were not alone, for they united the peoples of the once great Blue Nation under their banner. During the battle Kay Mandy duelled his nemesis, Brother Tauto Chrone, leader of the Brotherhood, and slew him, before collapsing the Nether Highway on top of the armies of the Brotherhood and his own.
While the Gaians and their allies arguably took greater casualties, the Brotherhood's army been reduced to less than a tenth of its prior size, and so victory could be claimed by both sides. Now, Kay Mandy is king of Gaia's domain, but not all are satisfied by this situation.
Other Guff I should Probably mention before I
1. I am contractually obliged to state that the Herobrine Creepypasta is a myth despite whatever personal beliefs I hold on the matter. He will have a small part in the story that will make itself apparent pretty early on. But don't worry, it is very much a small part in the scope of the story. In short, HE'S NOT THE ANTAGONIST! He doesn't even have a particularly antagonistic role... well, sort of. It's complicated.
2. If you aren't a fan of dark stuff in the form of insanity, mild aspects of torture, more blood than half of creepypasta.com, a nightmare scene I enjoyed writing way too much and people with Scottish accents (chilling I know), then run! RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN!
3. This story isn't up it's own ass entirely. It still has a sense of humour and don't be surprised by some of the big lipped alligator moments that will emerge.
4. There are a number of other people who write in the same universe as you may see above. I'll set up a number of links later. But first I'd just like to thank Apostle Trivius / Synthenos for his marvellous work on Sorrows of the Seven kingdoms two years ago. It inspired me to write and opened me up to the possibilities of the MC world in literature. Also would like to thank Astro Joe for his work on the prologue series, Sangiin for allowing me to use the name Ishinge and continue on where his story will eventually leave off, and Ray for creating an abstract masterpiece.
A Fall and A Rise: The Tale of Vanilla Craft
Chapter 1: The Chapter 1: The
By order of the King
D’ri’n’q (pronounced Darien somehow, I don’t understand either) was standing in the field. He was just a simple farm boy, sitting in a field surrounded by fluffy white clouds of sheep, clasping old wooden crook one-handed across his folded legs. He was a young lad, in his teens with perfect skin and clean spiky hair. His eyes were eagle-like slits and he had a scar in the shape of a Belgian waffle on his chin. He knew that someday, he would have to unlock the mystery of this scar alone, as he had never known his parents.
He had been found as a baby in a cradle floating down the river where he had been picked up by the absent-minded wizard shepherd Gancamono of Dartoff. Gancamono, who had taken part in every major turning point in the world’s history, who was great friends with every other nobleman, had a pin-point accurate portrait of himself in every major city and made no effort to disguise himself ever! Gancamono, who the general populace still somehow didn’t realise was a real person despite all of the above pieces of evidence!
At this point Darien stood up and stared longingly towards the great egg yolk of a sun, dripping sunlight onto the great flowery fields of that GREAT and bountiful land as the bunnies hopped by. Did I mention how GREAT this place was?
He walked up to the tree of ages old, pulled the sword that had belonged to his father from the hollow. He used it so little, and had no proper training in how to use it. In fact, he had only used it once or twice before, this would be the first time in three years that he used it. His naming ceremony was coming up, and he felt the need to prove himself ready for it. Therefore the logical way to do this would be to take this blade and murder the local bully.
And so he swung the hefty blade with twig-like arms and split the apple nearest the ground straight down the perfectly down the middle, causing it to fall down before him in two halves. He picked up one of these halves and started chewing it contemplatively, allowing the sweet juices to dance lightly upon his taste-buds. He sat himself down on the twisting root of the tree.
Then, up came Gancamono, a man in grey doublet and brown cowl. His face was wrinkled and his chin coated by patchy beard. His eyes were hazy and crossed, the right always seeming to hang back from whatever it was he was viewing. “Darien what are you doing? Have you not been studying the ancient scrolls of super-importance?” He cried in his shrill rasp, flailing his arms rather unnecessarily.
“First of all, I’ve been tending your sheep, you forgetful old fool. Secondly, I AM FEELING ANGSTY BECAUSE OF THAT AMBIGUOUSLY PURPOSED ARGUMENT WE HAD AT THE DINNER TABLE LAST NIGHT! YOU ARE HOLDING BACK MY ABILITIES OF WHICH I HAVE NOT YET PROVEN IN ANY WAY AND YOU ARE ALSO STIFLING MY EXTREMELY COMPLEX PERSONALITY!” Darien responded.
“YOU HAVE NO PERSONALITY YOU OVERUSED CLICHÉ!” Said Gancamono with the voice of the audience as much as anyone else. At this all Darien could do was gawp with eyes welling up with tears. “Get back to tending my ridiculously huge herd of sheep you tosspot.” Finished the wizard.
The wise but forgetful old sage then turned and began walking back to their small but cosy little hut on the opposite side of the hill. After a few metres he then remembered what he had actually come out to say.
“Darien I remember what I actually had to say!”
“Gee whiz Gancamono was it it?” Darien was now inexplicably enthusiastic.
“First, have I mentioned that I am a forgetful wizard?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent. Well yes, the thing I was about to say to you is this…” There was a long pause.
“What is it?” Asked Darien with arms outstretched in confusement.
“The house…” He paused again, palms help up with fingers outstretched. “The house is on fire and I blame you for this.”
“Oh…” He then noticed the big billowing smoke stacks. “Why?” “Because you’ve secretly been the king’s son for the past umpteen years and now the super-dark-evil-bad-person of super-dark-bad-volcano-mountain is coming for you. Why? Because he’s an asshole like that.” Gancamono offered with deadpan seriousness.
“Oh… Sorry, could you just give me five minutes to have a serious emotional dilemma montage about this?”
“Of course, just don’t blow our budget on excessive fade transitions, Phil Collins and camera spins.”
“What’s a Phil Collins?”
“Well Darien a Phil Collins is a very interesting parasitic creature that occasionally resides inside a wild Disney….”
It was at this point the man in the deep blue veil lost interest in this fantasy of his. Sure it was fun to set up their story, but if he left it too long it always started to drag. He had always hated filler, but he always ended up going on to the point where there was nothing to do but create filler. Why couldn’t they sense his thoughts and for once come up with a solid cut-off point themselves? He grunted and decided to remind himself of the facts of the situation.
Yes, there was in fact a farm-boy and an old shepherd in front of him. They were bickering. Why were they bickering? Their house had in fact been set on fire, by the veiled man. You may ask “why?” again. Well, the boy was in fact royalty. It was no secret to himself or the shepherd, but it was to everyone around them. He was in fact the illegitimate youngest son of the recently King Peter of Gaia. He had a brother, but he was not king. In fact, neither brother had been chosen as king. Some military general had been allegedly selected to take over on his death bed. It all sounded a load of bollocks to the veiled man, but it was not his job to judge.
You see, this child, let’s call him Yosh, was one of three brothers; the sons of this fallen king. However, as mentioned before, he was illegitimate and too reveal him would be a great disservice to the dead king. It was unlikely he even wanted to attend, blaming his father for the admittedly mysterious death of his mother.
The eldest brother, Josh, was in exile for reasons best left ambiguous. While his exile had expired with the death of Peter, it had been renewed after a confrontation with the new guy. He was allowed to attend the joint funeral of Peter and a number of other Gaian nobles. After this he had to leave the borders of The Kingdom of Gaia.
The middle Brother, Slim, was an oaf, a follower of the old religion; the worship of Gaia as the only true deity. For reasons political, ideological and personal, Peter had outlawed it and this new king intended to keep up the ban, being a staunch worshipper of Herobrine and (some of) the other Divines. It also didn’t help that Slim was virtually the puppet of Gaia’s Enclave; a group of Gaian druids who believed in a number of frankly barbaric practices including human sacrifice and the ritualistic murder of Lesser Divines and Thaums for their “tainting” of the land. Slim and the Enclave too intended to attend this funeral. But, now business had to be done.
The veiled man straightened himself, rising from the coarse branches of the bush like a mysterious Venus. He pulled from his back the bow of ebony he had borrowed, and plucked a barb tipped arrow from the quiver. He lifted the veil from his face, propping the shroud atop the bow. With noiseless movement, the string became tighter and tighter, dragging the arrow with it. Then, there was the crack of an arrow, and the thud of arrow greeting flesh.
The boy fell, a barb-tipped arrow piercing his paling neck up the fletching. And with that little Yosh was no more. The veiled man covered his visage with the veil again, slung the bow back across his back and began hiking up the hill one more. Even with feet as light as his the dry and brittle dirt of that hot day of the early summer crumbled like a miniature avalanche. He misplaced a wandering sole atop a little outcrop which soon betrayed him, causing him to fall to his leather-clad knees. He cursed and allowed himself that moment of cursed weakness.
He looked down at the scene. The shepherd knelt before the boy and his blood watered the meadows, still doing him service even in death. The shepherd’s head hung like a man atop the gallows, and his hands covered it. Yet no sound came from his throat. And the veiled man allowed his feelings to get the better of him. From his back the bow came once more, and another arrow from the quiver was plucked. Then the boy’s surrogate father found an arrow piercing his throat too. And then he too was no more.
The veiled man sighed and sat on the side of the hill as the boy had done on the root of that tree. These words were whispered from between his intangible lips, “Long live the king.”
Chapter 1: The Coming Storm
"For mods sakes, will they ever stop bickering, or at least invite me next time." was the first thing that came to my mind.
Another debate had started up in the Great Forum at The Shrine of Gaia, our "patron deity" (if one aligned themselves with heresy and treason). I had no idea what was being debated or who was taking part, but it was the duty of the various leaders to gather and at least watch the debates. This had been King Peter's duty up until several weeks before, in the clash with the Brotherhood.
In this clash the Brotherhood had rallied a few hundred thousand undead pigmen from the foulest regions of the Nether, and intended to use them to wipe out the rest of us before the Moderators could intervene in any meaningful manner. They would have attacked via the Nether Highway, a series of portals between the Overworld (or Sane Realm as some may call it), abusing the fact that the Nether is drastically smaller than the real world as well as the skill of Pigmen to launch a series of attacks on enemy capitols before retaliation was possible.
We, the Gaians had caught wind of this via a series of spies and old Pigmen contacts of mine from my days as an officer in Herobrine's Great Onslaught. Despite attempts at ignoring the problem by that obsolete swine Emperor Dominus of The Realm of Seven Kingdoms, we had managed to gather just about all of his closest friends and allies against the threat.
His response to people not listening to him was to allow a Brotherhood coup in the kingdom of Rome to go off with minimal opposition, resulting in it subsequently seceding from his kingdom; the new Brotherhood puppet killing one of his "closest friends"; providing the Brotherhood with 10,000 additional troops which they used in a sneak attack against us and forcing him to officially annex the friendly state of Wedgewood in order to keep the his nation's name valid. In short, it was not a good week to be Dominus.
Nonetheless there had been a massive battle with the THP Brotherhood and their private army of pigmen, and the Gaian army; with support from The Companions guild; the tribesmen of La Selva; the Blue Alliance: the Valhallans; and the (secretly immortal) warrior order Arcation. Despite both sides suffering major casualties, with the Brotherhood not actually permanently losing any major members, we had managed to destroy the army they'd amassed and my own defeat of Brotherhood leader Tauto Chrone had been particularly embarrassing. As such they had openly conceded defeat at Peter's funeral and my coronation.
But anyway, all of that had passed. We'd agreed to a treaty to prevent any further bloodshed. Dwelling on such things was purposeless. A new era was beginning.
I grabbed my sceptre, pulled back my crimson hood and checked that my cotton shirt had nothing on it. I did however notice that there was a piece of liquorice stuck to my auburn beard. Upon seeing this I tugged. It wouldn't budge.
The door opened as I finally managed to get it free, along with a large lump of hair. At this I let out an unearthly scream just as young Linx (captain of the guard) walked into the room. I turned - not having heard the door open, or seen Linx enter due to my bad eye - to see a very startled looking young man in ceremonial Gaian military dress staring at me. Embarrassed, I tossed the hairy piece of liquorice aside and said "Yes?" as casually as I could.
At this he pulled himself together, adjusted his green beret and said "Your entourage is waiting for you in the courtyard my king."
"Ah yes, of course!" I said quickly, "Shall we?"
And with that we set off to the courtyard. Waiting there was the present council and a few high-ranking Gaians. Among them were: Astro Joe of knowledge district. His greyish black hair and beard clund tightly to him. Wrapped around his was a fur-trimmed cloak of black velvet, with his warm face crinkled into a perpetual faint smile.
At his side was the aspiring young mage Bokane, dressed in his Thaumaturge's attire. Hanging from his shoulders was a hulking purple overcoat, laced with that magical metal, thaumium. Beneath that was an elaborate doublet of similar fabric. From his side hung his gold-tipped wand, and at the other side his purple-bladed sword.
Secret Loll, my top General was standing perched against a low archway, inspecting his ancient sword. Around his head was a fully formed copper mane and beard that burned in the sunlight. Across his back was slung a great ebony bow and a quiver filled to the brim with enchanted arrows. As on found its mark it would vanish, and reappear in his quiver. A gift from the days of the Onslaught, and a sign of his status.
Aaron, my friend and the new CEO of the Gaian manufacturing industry, stood next to him, pondering enthusiastically about whatever fantastical danger he could think of. He was by all means a pessimist, but he was an imaginative one and he didn't fear consequence in the same way others of his ilk were. Whilst some of his ideas bordered on the ludicrous, he was still a useful man for finding potential problems in plans and figuring out how to correct them. He and secret made a dangerous team in war. Aaron the strategist; Secret the improviser.
He was a large man, once known as the giant of Stoneholm. On his back was a hulking sword that most men would be challenged to carry. His skin was of a light olive shade, and his hair jet black. Around his head was tightly wrapped a dark green bandana. Always smiling, always trustworthy, he and Astro were the ones I held the highest of my friends.
Further across the courtyard was the even larger Mini Munch, the half breed. In the midday sun his patchy and coarse green skin glinted greasily. His tattered suit hung limply off of his lopsided shoulders. Everything about him was uneven, from his slow limp to his mismatched black eyes. Physically he was some sort of grotesque Frankenstein, but to be honest he was a warm-hearted young lad. The youngest of us (merely 25 years) and easily the least wary of the ways of the world. Nonetheless he was an infectious optimist and a useful asset.
Antony Mo of the Commerce section was a naval explorer. I knew little else of him other than that he and Astro were close and to be honest we didn't get on well enough for me to care to know more.
Then there was my man in commerce. Cossack, a man infinitely more qualified for Mo's position. A banker of the highest calibre, having fought his way to the top of the Arcadian market before Grumm repossessed his business. Since then I'd met with him and we'd become somewhat inseparable partners over the years. He knew all of my secrets, and I knew just about all of his.
Small Doughnut was a young aristocrat who appreciated the finer things in life, such as painting; poetry; literature; vintage wines and premeditated murder. He was an assassin by trade, but I'd managed to convince him to take the cushy post of head of Agriculture in order to keep my opponents out of government. His hair was of light blond, hinting at his ethnicity as a divine. His eyes too had that dignified quality. He also had the foul temper of those that came from the true court, and too held the same friendly disposition once you got a drink or two into him. He sat on bench in the shade, a placid bliss upon his features and a glass of wine in a hand that seem to have evolved specifically for the object.
There were a few other minor assistants and diplomats of little significance, not all of whom were comfortable with their new king. A friend of Peter's son Josh I hadn't yet dealt with here. A pagan with sympathies to the late Slim (the middle child) there. Everyone else was either too terrified to oppose us, or were sane as their former king, and had realised that the other candidates were absolute psychopaths who would have destroyed Gaia within a month. Although I have to say, the death of the illegitimate one was a regrettable measure, but one that I had no part in. Small and Cossack had made that judgement without me.
"What happened to your beard Kay?" Came the weary, but amused voice of my most trusted counsel, Astro. "Liquorice again?"
"You guessed it." I replied disinterestedly. Then it dawned on me, "What's wrong with it?!"
"Nothing." Came the playful voice of Secret as he ran a long finger along the edge of his chipped sword, "That is, if you call having a golf ball sized hole in your beard nothing."
"Really?" I said in shock, looking at my reflection in my sceptre. "Bugger! Ah well, no time to fret. Activte the shrine portal and let's go."
"Of course sire." came Astro's worn out voice. He had been like this since the battle, when Tassadar had fallen in combat with the Brotherhood. He seemed to have all but lost his fight.
"He needs a rest." I thought, "I must talk to him about it after the debate."
Five minutes later we were standing at the foot of the shrine, the debate raging on a little outside the forum, at the base of the steps up to Void's small stone house. It was a wonderful system the shrines. They were charged up gradually by sunlight (usually taking five days to a week) and could be used to transport a group of people to any other shrine across the Craft, consuming more energy with greater leaps. Controlled by Void and his moderators, they were integral to the functioning of the Craft. The names were merely mocking stabs at the pagan beliefs held by the Noobian and Testificate tribes who still occasionally appeared to make their meagre offerings.
Dominus, emperor of the Realm of the Seven kingdoms and the Brotherhood (otherwise known as the Brotherhood of the Try Hard Pants, the THP Brotherhood, or THP) were arguing again. At first I thought it was just another territory feud (probably another round in Dominus demanding back the kingdom of Rome with empty threats that everyone scoffed at), or them bickering about who started the "Great War" between the two groups, or Dominus declaring his outrage at the Brotherhood for them raiding some trading caravan headed for the Realm. That it was at first glance. In fact I was about to give my entourage the order to disperse themselves, perhaps even wander off myself a little later. However, then it happened.
"I will not stand for you or your excuses anymore Void! Either relinquish their control of Blue land, or you will regret it!" Came the outraged voice of Dominus following a loud cracking noise.
A large circle had formed around the stairs leading to void's house. At the centre was Ubi, a leading figure in the Brotherhood, lying on his back unconscious, turtle mask lying fractured on the ground beside him. Tending to his bleeding nose were Tauto Chrone (their leader, and the one I slew), Jay (the brother of the aforementioned and something of a hero among their ranks) and Komplex (their finest warrior).
Dominus himself was throwing stones at Void's house. Around the edge of the ring were the various kings of the Realm and Dom's wife, Ellen. Some looked positively triumphant, while others looked most worried indeed.
I looked around for someone I knew. There he was, Vacar, one of Arcation's finest fighters. He would know what was going on. "Any chance you could fill me in friend?"
"Well, it started out as a simple argument about the Brotherhood's new garrison in the newly independent Kingdom of Rome." He said the last few words with a touch of venom, recalling the state's recent actions. "Then Emperor Wise-**** over here started ranting about how "unfair" the system was and how "Void should step down for a real leader". He then began to throw stones at Void's house. When Turtle boy tried to negotiate," He gestured to the still unconscious Ubi. "He punched him in the face and knocked him unconscious. It was quite entertaining actually..."
"I'm sure it was." I responded, laughing uneasily. "So is it like that Zerg bloke?"
Zerg was an old moderator/self-proclaimed administrator who supposedly went crazy, helped to form a new Craft in the far away Kreatious territories. He had gone centuries before I was born, there weren't many texts about the period around and the moderators didn't like to talk about him. Vacar however, was Gogyst's apprentice. And Gogyst was technically immortal, having been a moderator at a time and since then found a super secret method of immortality which he constantly spread rumours about the existence of. I was really just fact-checking where convenient
"I guess so," He began, quite clearly distracted. "Thankfully Dominus hasn't gathered an army and attempted to take over the Craft. Or, at least the attempting to take over part."
Then one of Dominus's stones smashed a stain glass window with a deafening crash. There was a gasp from the crowd. Dominus meant business. The door suddenly swung open. Out strolled Void, who simply pointed at the shattered glass with his diamond tipped staff and caused it to reform in an even more beautiful pattern. "Yes?" Came the deep, gravelly, yet calm and somewhat amused voice of Void.
"You wanted me Dominus?" He reiterated, drawing back his hood to reveal warm brown eyes, a frail form and a light grey beard. There was an omniscient air to him, as if he already knew what you were about to say to a T and yet still intended to humour you because he was that nice.
Dominus, who was looking quite surprised at Void's sudden appearance and serene attitude pulled himself together and yelled. "RELEASE THEIR CONTROL OF OUR LAND NOW OR YOU'LL HAVE THE REALM TO DEAL WITH! They go against the treaty by taking hold of this land. Surely YOU of all people can understand my outrage?"
"Why, I most certainly do Dominus. However," He walked down the steps and placed his arm around Dominus' shoulder in a friendly way. "You lack a crucial piece of information."
"And what would that be?" snarled Dominus, lifting away Void's arm.
"That only their new members, people with Blue citizenship, are living there. They wish to offer the citizens of Rome safety from future attacks by the Realm upon them. They, as was their right as a now independent state, agreed and placed themselves under the control of the Brotherhood. In fact, there hasn't been a legal boundary between the Blue and Red territories since the united governments were destroyed eight years ago. If they use it as a bastion for attacks they're doing it completely within the law. Besides, I'm sure you're at not risk. When was the last time the Brotherhood actually issued a proper threat to you? Four, no five years ago wasn't it?" Void pleaded with Dom.
"Excuses! Always excuses. If you won't make changes, we'll have to ourselves..." said Dominus with an air of malice.
"Now Dominus," Began void, but he never finished the sentence; for Dominus had pulled a small axe from beneath his cloak and swung it at Void's neck.
I watched in awe as Void simply batted it aside. Dominus, flustered, pulled a second concealed axe out and gaped in horror as it shattered against void's forearm. Their eyes met for a few brief seconds, and I could swear I saw Void cock an eyebrow and mouth "***** please."
Dominus then extended a small knife from beneath his sleeve and lunged at Void once more. Void simply held up his hand in a 'stop' gesture and Dominus' simply froze up. Try as he might he couldn't move a muscle. Then Void simply closed his hand into a fist and the blade shattered into thousands of jagged shards; all of which toppled to the floor. Void then simply poked his golden staff in Dominus' direction and he went flying into the crowd.
"NOW!" Dominus yelled as he soared over the heads of the people.
Then all hell broke loose. The Valhallans, the Wedgians and most of Williamsburg drew swords, as did roughly half of the R7K kings. Out of the crowd came a contingent of Realm warriors; not particularly good or well-equipped fighters, but still numerous enough to pose a real threat. From thin air the moderators appeared around the now panting Void (time was evidently taking its toll; first Astro, now Void), and began to blast back the attackers with their staffs. Then came the rallying cry of "Defend the Administrator!" and all who were able burst into action.
"Are The Brotherhood the only ones who obey the "no weapons" policy?" came the cry of Komplex as he punched out a Valhallan.
"Nope!" Shouted Ray Tunes, mayor of Williamsburg as he was blasted in Komplex's general direction by Epsilon. It probably wasn't wise for him to take part in the coup when he only had an incredibly hard baguette for a weapon.
"Don't worry Komp!" I shouted, grappling with Cabbage, a general of Valhalla. "Only Secret was dishonest enough to subvert the policy fromour ranks."
"If you can't beat them Kay!" Called Secret mockingly from his perch in the shrine tree as he dispatched yet another warrior of the Realm with his bow.
I rolled my eyes and swept Cabbage's legs out from beneath him.
Fifteen minutes later we'd managed to quell the rebellion with minimal casualties. The surviving rebels had their weapons piled at the foot of the shrine and were gathered in the centre of the Forum. Before them stood Rage Peanut, Void's man for weeding out traitors, criminals and ass-hats. The man had purged the "starter zone" of crime three times over and was still standing. A true hero of the Craft; however harsh he could get, or pretend to be when defending Void.
"Where is Dominus?" Came the angry demand from Rage Peanut. "I know you're still here. It's my job to find you for trial. Step forward or I could get nasty."
He waited a few seconds. Nothing.
"Well then," He said with mock pleasure, although I could swear the twisted look in his eye was real. "I guess I'll have to be more persuasive then."
At that a small, spring-loaded firearm sprung from his sleeve into his palm. The weapon in question was a weapon known as the "Baby Jesus Perk", pioneered by The Brotherhood during the Great War. I had never seen their usefulness in battle, even started questioning it, up until the Battle for the Nether Hub. They were truly lethal, inside battle, and outside.
He pressed it against the head of Prodigy, Tassadar's brother and Ray's adopted son. I saw Astro flinch. The two had never gotten on very well, but Prodigy was his last connection to her. At this I contemplated that there may have been more to their partnership then business, perhaps friendship. That was as far as my imagination could stretch and I was drawn back to the scene of the interrogation by Rage yelling, "You have to the count of three to come out Dominus, then I kill him."
"One." A bead of sweat rolled down my temple. "Two." A tear flowed from Prodigy's eye. "Three-"
"Wait!" Came the voice of Void, who had just recovered from a prolonged coughing fit. "Just summon him!"
"Fine. If you want to do it the dull way..." Responded Rage, grumbling as he closed his eyes and pointed his staff into the crowd.
Two seconds later Dominus' flailing form soared towards Rage from the crowd, shrieking as he did so. Then, before he knew what had happened, his wind was cut off by Void's vice-like grip. He squeezed momentarily, causing the Emperor's eyes to bulge, before throwing him to the ground, retching and gasping.
"Emperor Dominus III of the Dominii line, Regent of the Realm of the Seven Kingdoms, defender of the faith, son of Dominus II and father of the late Elysium heed my words. You are hereby exiled from the Vanilla Craft, on accounts of treason, disturbing the peace, littering, asshattery, and wasting Moderator time. You have ten days to rally all loyal to you and leave." Recited Ryan calmly and with as little emotion as possible.
"Exiled hey? So you want me to leave Void. Do you? Because I think that is the best idea you've ever had. I'm leaving, and so should everyone who feels the same way as me." Proclaimed the hoarse voice of Dominus as he lifted himself from the dusty stones.
And then he and many others left, in the directions of the great gates. Surprisingly Ray Tunes and many Williamsburg citizens who were involved stayed behind. Although I was sure I saw he and Dominus exchange a meaningful look, and nod, as if in agreement. "Best keep an eye on Ray," I thought. "He's up to no good."
Before leaving the Forum boundaries Dominus yelled "You'll Rue the day you crossed me Void." And with a flutter of his obscenely long red cape he left.
At this point Astro mouthed "I'm sorry" to me and walked off. All I could say was, "Promise me you'll write!" And with a smile filled with guilt and nostalgia, he was gone in the crowd.
"Seal the gates after them." Void whispered to Epsilon. "And reopen the Omega Initiative. I fear this is only a shower, the storm is yet to come."
"So then he said he'd lower TKG's inflation by the end of the month. But here's the bizarre twist - HE DIDN'T! So I evicted him and got his whole business!" Guffawed Commerce's new leader, Cossack.
As none of us got what he was on about, or how it was uplifting that he evicted a man and stole his business; so we just laughed politely. I saw Alec and Ozzy exchange a confused glance, smiling half-heartedly. I didn't blame them, Cossack was a tough act to follow. However he and I had been through a lot together. He'd always been at my side, even before the battle for Zinecraft (the name of a now dead private server me and a few friends used to play on). He was also a nice enough guy once you got to know him. He'd been through a lot with Mo's sudden decision to up sticks and having to take over Commerce.
As for where we were, Gbaman had decided to throw a "little gathering" in his house. He did this every now and then, spending some of the fortune he'd earned from his railway monopoly on the public. We were in the penthouse suite of the R7K citadel. Gba had woken up the morning of Dominus' departure to discover that he was the only resident apart from Rider, Worlds, Ptorre, Bebe, Wise One, and a couple of transient members of the Brotherhood. Therefore, he decided to claim the citadel for himself and throw a party.
We were in Gba's penthouse suite in the citadel, with the rest of VC's elite. Among the guests there were; Gogyst and a small group of Arcation warriors; those Iron-worshiping pirates "Woobly", and their pet iron golem dubbed, "Tommy Wiseau"; Atreidon, now having left the Brotherhood to form his own group called "Mobius"; Ozzy and Alec of La selva; Piethingey and Mj of the Void; Boston; the moderators Cubsfan and Epsilon; WolvesGlare of Vangaard; some members of the THP brotherhood; the Gaian council and a few prominent members; and TKG's new business partners, Key G. Perrson and Walt Ham. Outside, surrounding the Citadel were a series of tents and tables lined with cakes and ale and many other delicacies. This was where the general public dined.
The TKG council were scattered through-out the room. In the centre, with Gba, Ozzy, Alec, Cossack, ABB, Wolves, Gogyst, Pondscum and Vacar; making pleasant conversation whilst drinking ale. Aaron was standing amidst a crowd of people from various groups who were chanting "Chug! Chug! Chug!" as he downed pie after pie. Bokane and Mini were standing on the far side of the room, so drunk they were competing for Woobly's iron golem bodyguard's love. Small was standing in between them, trying to keep them from killing each other. Meanwhile Secret was sitting in the corner in a chair, bow lain across his legs, completely asleep, but still looking intimidating. I blinked and the scene completely changed. He all of a sudden was wearing gold chains, had ginger dreadlocks, a great pink top hat, a tattered white suit, a tattoo on his neck saying "Thug Life" and was surrounded by dancing Testificates. I dismissed this on the drink and the weed smoke billowing from Wolves' pipe.
Cossack and I, despite the shenanigans of our comrades, were here on business. Cossack's job was to look into potential business connections with other groups and gather useful intelligence while they were drunk and or high. Mine was a different task altogether. I was organising a group of people to break into a top secret vault; supposedly containing prototype weapons made by the Tinkerer himself, Fedwin. The reason; Fedwin had been attacked in his apartment and put into a heavy mental coma. When we'd been to visit him he'd said something in his sleep, "Operation Overlord; beneath citadel; 3,15,4,5: 6,5,4,26,23,9,14,12,15,12." To most this was dismissed as blood as blood-loss.
I however was reminded of the times I'd spent listening in on R7K chatter. One thing that stood out was "Operation Overlord". It was a phrase I'd heard over their radio waves many times. Astro had known more about it than me, he'd said something about a bunker beneath the Citadel but hadn't elaborated. "If only he were here," I thought, "He'd know what it meant". But he wasn't there, so I had to work from memory and the Gaian records. There was one file, detailing a number of shadowy transactions and results about some form of test, even naming the operation. However any details were torn out. I barely gave thought to the numbers any thought.
Walt was the one who noticed an order in the chaos. He suggested that it may be a code. With the help of Killer; Abb's brother we found that the numbers translated as "CODE: FEDZWINLOL". Cone to think of it This had also been mentioned on the R7K chatter during the war, I was certain. So I'd told the boys from the Order to sneak in while the party was going on, locate the vault, and find out what the hell was going on.
I received a call on my earpiece. A marvellous piece of machinery, only a range of 3 kilometres without a relay, but still very useful for jobs like this. "Excuse me please Gba I need to take this call." I said, standing up slowly, and walking over to the punch bowl. I held up my sleeve to my mouth. "Yes?"
"The cuckoo has cracked the eggs alpha omega warlord sir!" Came the voice of Linx through the earpiece.
"Linx, cut the ******** and tell the magic mushroom what he wants!" came the voice of Bokane, still drunk. I knew it had been a bad idea to give him an earpiece and microphone. "I'm so h-happy!" He then slumped against the golem and passed out.
I mouthed sorry to Gba and gestured to Cossack and Small to remove Bokane from the room and put him down to sleep in one of the empty apartments.
"Sorry what did you say Linx? I couldn't understand a word. Bokane was actually right." I began slightly irritably.
"Sorry sir it's just Rb's old manual -"
"Do you really think, anyone actually read that?" I said, chuckling. Rb has spent a lot of time making dummy code books and raid procedures to mess with people.
"No. Sorry sir." He conceded; sounding deflated. "But anyway. We've cracked the vault and are currently entering. Some form of ancient machine Fedwin restored was locking it. What was it a "Computater"? Anyway we put the code into the computater and are looking for any traces of Operation Overlord. But," He paused
"But what?"
"We think someone's been here recently. First thing we noticed were fresh bootprints and that someone appears to have been dragged through. I'm starting to think that someone else is one step ahead of us."
"Keep me posted" I said hurriedly, and hung up the call.
As I returned to making pleasant conversation in the party Linx and his team were preparing for action. There were eight of them. All armed with enchanted combat knives, top of the range bows, and Gaian special forces armour. This was basically just toughened black leather and a black beret but it looked badass. These were The Kingdom's eyes and ears. Every day they waged cloak and dagger warfare with our enemies, but today was their first real operation outside of stirring up trouble in Brotherhood controlled territories and kidnapping Komplex's pets. The team was lead by Linx; with Tejmin, Allison, MPD Awesome, Prippe, Dawz, NC Power and Blaze with him. They entered the room in a wedge formation, arrows knocked, proceeding slowly. They reached a three-way fork in the roads. Down each way was lined with what looked like segments of filing cabinets. However, at the end of the centre path was a second sealed vault door, up a short flight of stairs just four steps high.
Linx cleared his throat and delivered his orders. "Tejmin, you and Blaze head right. Follow the tracks and see who or what was dragged down that way. Allison, MPD and Prippe. You head left, look for Operation Overlord. NC and I will head straight forward and see if we can do the same. Dawz, stay here and cover our back. If you see anyone, fire a flare and identify if they are friend or foe. Everybody clear then? Good. Move out!"
There was the traditional "HOO-HAH!" before they moved out. Creeping along the corridor to the left went Allison and her team. They walked for what seemed like hours; until they found what they were looking for. There it was, A small compartment labelled "Overlord".
"Excellent," said Allison; very pleased with herself. This could spell promotion for her. She tugged at it. "Bugger! Locked!"
"Allow me." Came the cocky, Swedishly accented voice of Prippe. "I will get zis open."
At that he brought his combat knife down on the lock. "Simples. Now let's get zis open! I want to get out of here fast. It gives me the creepz." And he started to tug. At last he got it open and stuck his hand in.
"Wait Prippe! It could be trap-" Then the bomb went off, and the world went white, and then black.
There were reverberations all the way up the citadel. Panic ensued up in the room of the party and some of the rabble outside appeared to be most amused. After two minutes of complete chaos Gba managed to calm everyone down. "Calm down everyone! Calm down! We're built near a fault line; tremors are really common here. Besides, we've had worse Earthquakes on Taco Night!"
This gathered a mixed response of groans and chuckles and then everyone returned to business. Cossack approached me. "I suppose you had something to do with that." He said dryly. "Time to tell me what you're really doing here. Don't give me that bull about being here for the crack of it. I know that's on half the truth."
And so I briefly recounted the story of Fedwin's injury, and his message, and the team that was currently in the bunker beneath the Citadel. "... I don't know what happened down there but it can't be good." I finished, more panic in my voice than I would like.
"I understand." Cossack responded, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Ring up Linx. I'll get Secret; I assume you've briefed him?"
"Why yes of course. Ah I see he's gotten up."
"What on Earth is he wearing?" Came the disgusted whisper of Cossack as he gestured to Secret to come over. I appears the only things I imagined were the hat and tattoo because the rest was still there. As he jogged over his dreadlocks fell off; thank Notch, it was a wig!
"So it's no just me." I said, smirking.
"Before you ask." Secret began, I have no idea where the clothes came from. I nodded off; and when I woke up I was dressed like this with two Testificates wobbling like jelly in the qua-"
"It was a bomb. The teams cocked up." Interrupted I.
"Well then, that explains it." He replied, realisation entering his eyes. "I suppose you want me to check on them."
"Both will of us will go. Cossack, as you were. You're doing doing great. Make sure to warn the others. Secret, give him your earpiece. We'll grab you Bokane's as we pass the room he's crashed out in."
"I see I've missed quite a bit." He remarked, grinning cheerily. "Ah well, Allons-y!" And we were off. On my last glance back, I saw Cossack striking up a conversation with Wolves, to have fumes exhaled in his face.
And so I called up Linx as we rushed through the empty moonlit hallways of the citadel, footsteps echoing off of the marble walls. I let out a string of curses as the first attempt failed. The second went no better. At last I succeeded on the third attempt. "What's going on down there Linx. We heard the explosion."
"Ah yes. Sorry sir. Glad to see there was no damage to the citadel. Prippe, Allison and MDP found Overlord in a compartment. They opened it u., Prippe stuck his hand in and some form of fireball shot up and hit the ceiling; which only has a very thin layer off earth before reaching the foundations. We were afraid we may have collapsed the tower.
"Well, you didn't. Hooray! Now. Did anything inside survive?"
"The compartment? Nothing. We did however find Killer, and what we believe was Fedwin's workshop here. However, Killer is unconscious. We found him in a half-open compartment, muttering about being "sorry" and having been "tricked". And the workshop is sealed from the inside. We can hear faint sounds of machinery inside. We also think we hear someone approaching every now and then. There's no evidence anyone but us and the people in the vault ."
"This doesn't bode well." Secret grimly remarked into the microphone in his sleeve. "We're on our way."
"Glad to see you're alive and well General!" Said Linx perikily
"Glad to be alive Linx. Glad to be alive." He said, ripping off the ridiculous clothing as he ran, thankfully wearing his armour beneath. He whipped out his bow and hoisted the quiver up nearer to his shoulder. Now, with the fiery beard he had grown, and the straight, chin-length hair, he looked like a true general.
All of a sudden I got a call from Cossack. "Yes Coss?"
"Things are taking a turn for the worse. First, Jolly and Tauto did their version of Taylor Swifts "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together", with ubi, beat and ninja as back-up dancers." He shivered and then continued. "And now some ass-wipe in a mask called in his regiment of armed goons and demanded Gba's surrender of the Mods, Atreidon and the Brotherhood members. Gba refused, then the guy started stirring up the commoners into some form of blind rage. Calls himself Overlord. I'm scared!"
"Don't worry. It'll blow over. Idiots like him show up all the time. They never amount to anything." I airily responded.
"Oh ****! They're bridging over the moat; and are climbing up the walls. There's some that have already made it to the lower floors." He was on the verge of complete mania now.
"Keep calm. Just try and hold them back. Throw anything down. What's Gba's plan?"
"He said something about a special group of fireworks. Scaring them off."
"Keep me updated. Bye." I hung up and turned to Secret. "We need to get them out of there."
"Definitely." He replied, exasperated.
And so we ran as fast as we could. Fires were starting outside; the rabble were trying to destroy the various buildings outside. A quick glance through a window revealed the great bank of R7K completely ablaze. I paused to take in the flickering blades of red and orange stabbing through the growing cracks in the sky blue lapis roof. However, this moment of horrendous intrigue was interrupted as a raider with a crude club climbed up and smash open the window. He began to run at me; but before I could even grab the hilt of Amicus, Secret had put and arrow in his temple. I then proceeded to throwing him back through the window; on top of his companions. As we proceeded to run towards the vault. At last we came to the open vault door. What greeted us was the embodiment of chaos.
Along the hall the once pristine metal compartments along the walls were stained with blood; or dented; or blown or ripped out of the wall. The sealed door at the end of the corridor looked as if it had been ripped open. The floor was riddled with craters and blood and scorch marks. Throughout the corridor were the outnumbered members of the Order and these mysterious masked insurgents who were trying to overcome them; as well as the assorted casualties of both sides.
On the small flight of stairs, a tall weedy looking man with a creepy smiley faced mask was throwing explosive bottles throughout the corridor. He had no regard for who he killed, as he laughed maniacally. Viral was obviously having one of his monthly midnight strolls.
Prippe and Killer lay beside the ripped vault door. Prippe clutching his knife feebly, one armed in a sling. MDP was holding back two armed men in ski masks in an attempt to keep them back. However, creeping round her right was another, and they were heading straight for Linx. Secret struck down with two arrows, one to the leg and another to the head. He slumped onto the floor and lay still, darkness covering his eyes before he crumbled to dust and flew back to whatever corner of the Earth he came from.
Linx was combating a large, bulky man wielding a chain with a knife on the end. Linx ducked under the oncoming blade and dispatched his foe with three jabs in the ribs with his blade. He saw us as a goon ran up to me, subsequently being gutted.
"Sir, you've got to stop them. They've gathered some form of arms cache on a mule drawn cart, guarded by this strange Golem. It's far more intelligent and versatile than our Golems, and it has some very dangerous firearms. We don't know what's in the cache, other than the Overlord is in it."
"Any idea what the overlord is?" Inquired Secret, eyes alive with the fire of battle.
"We know that it's some form of potion or elixir that improves soldiers; thanks to a file Killer had hidden inside his coat. But, the file was damaged and we couldn't find much else. There was an interesting story we found about a certain subject 16 who developed a certain blood-lust and turned on the scientists; later escaping. Before he escaped they named his condition Complex 16 and subsequently started called him that. He escaped two weeks aft-"
"We don't have time. Where's this cache?" I interrupted. As interesting a story as this was I was unable to see the use or meaning of it.
"They're heading towards the drawbridge. About eight strong. Well equipped for close quarters combat. We can handle ourselves here."
"Thank you Linx." And so we belted towards the gates, weapons drawn.
The curtains and wallpapers of those old halls were catching fire by the second. The remaining residents of the Citadel and Gba's private security were fighting desperately to keep out the growing horde with any weapons they would find. Stopping only to throw attackers out of our way we turned a corner. There I ran straight into Gogyst; Arcation's leader.
After a brief moment of sword pointing and drawing of bowstrings we recognised each other. Standing in front of us was Gogyst, Walkers, Bokane; now appearing sober and holding a floating ball of light, Ozzy and Walt. We lowered our weapons but were still wary.
"What are you doing here?" Asked Gogyst.
"We think it has something to do with Fedwin. But right now these creeps with a high-tech weapons cache and a superman Golem are heading towards the gate."
"Good, we're heading there too!" Then the outer drawbridge collapsed. Only now did I notice the men holding ropes standing on the other side of the moat. They began to charge and pull down the inner drawbridge. "To stop that..."
We belted down and came to a flight of steps that revealed the caravan; with the Golem staring at the inner drawbridge.
It was a large creature, just a small bit shorter than our golems. The joints were smooth balls, as opposed to our metal coils, which could easily be jammed by an arrow or spear. The top of it's head was smooth, as opposed to the rigid rectangular heads that I was used to. It's chest was plated with diamond. The eyes were what struck me most. There was a life, an awareness in those red pupils. It was unsettling. Then I realised that it had seen us and was preparing to attack.
Gogyst acted first and tackled one of the humans. Walt and Bokane ran after him, leaving myself, Secret, Ozzy and Walkers to fight the Golem. Secret nocked one of his cherished explosive arrows and fired at the Golems neck joint. The arrow exploded, but did little else except leave some scorch marks. I ran up alongside Walkers and we used the high-low tactic. He slid between it's legs and managed to leave a jagged tear in its foot. I jumped up and sliced downwards on it's shoulder. However, the tear in its foot began to weave back together. And my blade left little more then a mild dent on the might iron frame of the Golem.
Time slowed down. The end of it's square fist opened to reveal what looked like a multi-barrelled "Baby Jesus Perk". Then it batted me aside, causing me to indent the stone wall. I collapsed on my back, staring up at the skylight. The moon was shining a bright blue. The sky a murky brown from the flame below. It seemed as if hell itself had opened up down here and it remained the last haven of all that is good. I turned my head and saw it firing. Secret was flying back, his breastplate shattering; blood staining the pieces. Ozzy was lying on the floor clasping his leg. Blood was pooling around him. Walt was struck by a shell in the shoulder, knocking him to the floor.
Gogyst lay on the ground, being brutalised by 4 or so insurgents. Bokane was being held against the wall, being pummelled by a man much larger than he. Walkers made his last stand atop the cache. Finally he fell to the floor, yelling "Vive les poulets!" Then the gate came crashing down and the hordes poured in. All seemed lost, until a small red light shot down the corridor, ricocheting of the walls, whistling like a kettle.
All of a sudden, it exploded into the form of a sparkling red dragon. The hordes retreated in fear, the Golem and cache following close behind. It crawled out after them, roared a tongue of shimmering flame and took flight. The sky filled with the beasts, blue, red, yellow, green, Nyan Cat. A sight of beauty. Gba had succeeded. Then my strength failed me, and I passed out.
Day 2: The aftermath
My eyes fluttered open to be greeted by a white emptiness. "Is this Aether?" I thought to myself. "Am I dead?". I saw the great, polished pearly gates leading into that fabled land. They swung upon, revealing an unearthly light. Thus the hand of Notch reached out to me, and I reached out to take his hand, gliding through the nothingness. He hadn't changed a day sine that fateful battle when he was ascended; and Jeb took the throne with Herobrine at his side. All the time the echoes of life were growing fainter in my ears. The noises of groans and suffering faded out of my conscience. I had found peace at last. But then the noises resurged. Notch's hand retreated into the light, while the emptiness itself turned to a sea of shadows and I toppled into them. In them I saw all my sins flash before my eyes, and in the future a great darkness that I could not see. A man chained in fire, with Dominus standing over him. "What will you give me?" he asked Dominus. "Revenge." He replied. Then the scene dissolved into various images of death and destruction, of armies and at the centre of it all, him; Overlord.
"Kay! Wake up Kay! He's pulling through!" Yelled the familiar voice of Mini through the maelstrom.
I sat bolt upright, panting heavily, breaking out in a cold sweat. Standing over me were Mini, Small (his helmet off for once), and Aaron; all practically beaming. "Welcome back to the world of the living old friend." Chortled Aaron. He was feeling the same sense of nostalgia I was. He, Small, Cossack and Secret had found me like this once before, during our conquests in the prime of Zinecraft. "Ah memories..." I thought.
"What happened?" I asked them. "Did we win?"
"The fireworks scared off the rabble, so I guess you could say we won." Responded Aaron, granite-like face suddenly etched with seriousness. "But Overlord vanished along with his private army, the cache and the Golem. Viral was picked up by the boys from the Calais Asylum. They say he should be fine after a night of rehabilitation. Gogyst, Walt, Walkers and Bokane are at least vaguely okay. Gogyst has a cracked rib or two, and a mild limp. Walkers received a few cuts but nothing too serious. Walt's right arm is in a sling for a few days. Bokane, is still concussed; he received one hell of a battering from that guy. I'm sure he'll be mightily ed off when he regains full awareness. Ozzy's leg is really badly injured. There's talk of amputating it from the knee down. Poor guy. And Secret..." His voice trailed off gravely. I thought I saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye, but it was gone before I could be certain.
"What happened to Secret?" I was practically yelping. What had happened? I felt a pang of guilt for dragging Secret into this. "Is he-"
"Dead?" Responded Small, face pale. "No. He's alive, it's whether he'll be able to live fully."
"I don't understand."
"Best you see for yourself." He grunted. "Can you walk?"
"I think so..." I stood up and tried a few paces. I was a bit wobbly but I could move properly.
Therefore, we set off to find Secret amidst the ruins. Down torn up roads amidst burn-out shops and houses. Along the way I saw what had become of many of our Gba's guests. Wolves and the group from Vangaard were in the wreckage of a bar, downing budget flagons. Wolves had abandoned his pipe, looking thoroughly sober as he and Rage exchanged war stories. At first I was confused as to where the pipe had gone, and why he had been smoking herbs to begin with, then I realised that it had been 4/20 yesterday, and dismissed my confusion. Wringelle of La Selva had come up to see his leader, but was trying to find out what happened from Pie and Mj. This, was a poor idea, as it was embellished with many acts of individual heroism. Viral was being loaded into the back of a carriage by Starletts and some other people from Calais. Gogyst was sitting on a barrel surrounded by worried Arcation warriors, insisting that he was fine. The Brotherhood was fully present. Most were either looting the corpses or exchanging war stories. Komplex Sixteen however, looked troubled. I had never seen someone from the Brotherhood look like this in public. "What was that patient Linx told me about called? Complex 16?" I shook my head at the thought. However I did make note to ask Linx about it.
Secret was in one of the more intact wings of the great bank which - like many parts of the wreckage - had been converted to a medical station. It was highly depressing from the point of entry. The great lapis dome had collapsed in on itself in many parts, leaving it to look like a broken eggshell. The wooden stairs and woollen tapestries were burnt up from the fires. The walls had been knocked in in many parts, allowing beams of light to reach through and shine mournfully on the floor. The sky was grey, mixed in with black smoke fumes. Fires were still burning in certain parts of the city and bank. Then the heavens opened, and it began to rain.
Tarpaulins were put up like crude tents to keep the more vulnerable patients warmer. All the while we proceeded to Secret's location. On the way I saw Alec and a few other tribesmen standing over their fallen leader. His leg was turning green in parts and the skin around the wound was caked with blood and cracked stone. We stopped a few minutes to pay our respects.
"So Ozzy, how fares the leg?" I began.
"Not too good. Thankfully talks of amputation are being put off. They think if it does come to that they'll attempt a respawn operation." He responded with an attempt at satisfaction. The doctors could dress it up with all the fancy terms they wanted, a respawn operation was never pleasant. A respawn operation was basically them giving a painkiller to the patient, and testing out a stupid-ass method to kill them painfully. This usually resulted in scarring or weakness upon re-forming.
"I suppose you've got some great stories from the battle?" Said Mini, filling in the space where I could think of little to say.
"Glad you asked. What's your name again? Mini?"
"Precisely. So, tell me what happened with that Golem."
And we left them as Ozzy told his tales of war to Mini and the tribesmen. Down a few more wings, passing a badly beaten Cubsfan, and Scrumping Pup trying to find the café on a very complicated map. Finally we found Secret, Cossack, Bokane and The Order.
Cossack was sitting on a stool beside Secret's bed, clutching a bloody knife and looking shocked, almost in disbelief. Bokane, sitting on the bed to Secret's right, was holding a pork-chop up to one eye and crying silently from the other. Around the bed were the scattered members of the order. On a bed directly across from Secret lay Prippe, right arm in a sling, fingers warped beyond recognition. To his right Killer lay, a large lump on his forehead, Abb at his bedside.
Secret lay on the bed, struggling to breath, body riddled with wounds. Ribs, showed beneath torn-up eggshell armour. His eyes were glassy, and sweat ran down the ridge of his sharp, unbroken nose. The medic came up behind me.
Fluffy Toast was his name. Once he had served as butler of the Brotherhood but changed sides during the Brotherhood-Realm war. Stole much of the Brotherhood's stash of medical apparatus and bombed out most of the rest. Made himself a name as a minor hero that day. Since then he'd been working in the field of medicine; helping to do good in the world.
"In case you're wondering" He sighed gravely. "I don't think he'll walk again; perhaps not even talk. At least, not in this life. I recommen-"
"I know what you'll recommend. I'm loath to perform such an act upon my good friend. To do this would be to gamble with his life in a way unbecoming to all he's done for me, the council, and The Kingdom of Gaia itself!" I interrupted scathingly, turning from him in resentment. Then I realised the error of my ways and turned back to him. He looked thoroughly put out. "I'm sorry Fluff. I'm afraid to do this. I've lost too many friends as of late. Pie; then Tassadar; then Mo; and sorest of all Astro."
"I understand full well sir. But he needs you to make a tough decision." He was looking me full in the eye, gesturing to the sword at my hip. "Can you make it?"
I drew Amicus. That sword left by Tassadar to Astro in her will; then by Astro to me. For a moment everything flashed before my eyes in reverse. Secret gunned down by the drawbridge. Astro and Mo marching towards the great gates, Astro and I's eyes meeting momentarily. The silhouettes of Rb and Ice disappearing into the night on horseback. Pie lying dead on the table, clasping his sword and Jolly's whip in each hand. Tassadar gutting ubi and the bridge collapsing beneath her; sending her toppling to her death below. Gerrit being cast into the pit by Epsilon. Celestick getting into that carriage, never to be seen by my eyes again. Blogan falling to the floor, a smoking hole in his crown. Tauto standing over me, surrounded by flames; sword swinging down towards me. All those tragedies, could I make Secret become one of them?
My eye met his glassy eyes. They were pleading, no, begging for me to end it; one way or another. Thus I swung the sword over my head and down onto his neck. Blood stained the sheets. There was a tense moment when I actually believed he wouldn't reform. Then he began to crumble, bliss flushing over his eyes before they faded into dust. With a sigh of relief I turned to the order.
"Linx, what are our casualties? I see only six of us? Where's Dawz, Allison and Tejmin?" I inquired.
"Only Prippe and Killer sir. Allison has some minor burns and is having them patched up at the moment. Tejmin and Dawz are examining the vault with a few Arcation warriors we told. I trust it is within our interests now to make this investigation open to other leaders as it plainly has wide-reaching consequences."
"It most certainly is friend. One thing, I need to know what you found out about Overlord. You said you found out something about subjects. Are any alive?" I made it very clear that I wanted no .
"You'd be surprised by who is." He started amusingly. Linx was a former con-artist and loved a bit of theatrics when telling a story. "So, about ten years ago, around the time you and many other refugees of the Great Onslaught arrived, the Realm and its allies started readying for war, in case of attack from the new powers that would inevitably arise. For the most part, research was inconclusive, defective or too damn elaborate for anything but defence. All of a sudden they found something odd; an additive that could potentially create infinite effects for potions. So they called in their best men; Fedwin, the Tinkerer; Gbaman, renowned Redstone genius; and an outsider from the Calais asylum, one of the "Ghosts" as they were known. This outsider became known as Overlord. While he contributed little scientifically, he kept the project running at peak efficiency. Eventually they managed to create some blueprints for formulas. However, they needed people to experiment on, volunteers. So they searched among the populace of the Realm three times over. Not one man volunteered. Then they decided to search outside the Realm. Still nothing. They'd all but given up hope when Overlord showed up with 16 volunteers and a true Golem.
"Not one of our manufactured ones, real living golems; like from the stories. With intelligence to rival the human race. However, these volunteers, can be inferred from some of Overlord's old memos to really be kidnapped refugees."
"Hang on." I interjected. "You got his memo's? Also, I think I remember hearing stories about some bandits going around and kidnapping able looking refugees. No one ever found out what happened to them."
"We didn't get them all, and sadly he was careful to encode many of the more sensitive looking pieces of info. But from what we learned they held the subjects in an underground bunker system under heavy guard. Despite decent living conditions and food, the subjects were discontent; desperate for freedom. They developed 16 "stable" versions of the formula. The principle of the Overlord serum was that it was a permanent super-potion if you are confused. You're basically invincible. They began to test them out on the subjects, in small doses, and without the additive at first, but they eventually gave them larger doses.
"With samples from the Golem they developed a sort of living armour that could latch to a being and form and de-form at will. Essentially they can suit up entirely with a thought. The problem was the armour would permanently latch, and the process of attaching was excruciatingly painful. Gba wanted to develop these further, so as to allow the soldiers choice to give up their armour; and to make it as painless as possible. However, Overlord was evidently not very patient, and wanted to give Dominus a deadline for their work within the next 4 months. He demanded that his colleagues attach the armour to their subjects immediately. Gba wanted out. He was forcefully removed after attempting to stab Overlord in the eye with a pen, and then had his memory wiped. Fedwin, having been convinced by Overlord that it was a necessary evil, continued in good spirits.
"A week after attaching the armour to them, leaving jagged scars along the arms, legs, chest and back Overlord demanded that they give the subjects the formulas with additive. Also, to wipe their memories and re-program them as soldiers of the Realm. Most of the subjects forgot, but there was one who despite no knowledge of why, despised the Realm. However, the formulas gradually displayed side-effects. These were various mental disorders known as Complexes. They didn't reduce them to a coma or anything, simply increased a mental feature to undesirable proportions. The subject that would not forget developed an unquenchable blood-lust. The scientists began to name the different subjects after their Complexes and numbers. Therefore the subject mentioned became Complex 16. He eventually escaped, destroying the base in the process." He finished, staring at me. Wondering what to do.
I walked over to the window, mind in turmoil at what I had heard. So, Overlord was from Calais, but was the Overlord from the story even alive? Was this the same one? Over the years, Calais had splintered into multiple different groups and many members had died as a result of these power struggles.
I looked out the window in the hope of some clarification. That was not the right path. Void's private army had arrived and had gathered a group of Overlord's men. They lined their prisoners up against a wall, and took aim with their polished oak bows. There were a series of thuds, and darkness covered their eyes. Void's men, with their expressionless gas masks, their menacing blue eyes, their polished swords and shields, proceeded to walk among the dead, extinguishing the sparks of life from any who dared so much as twitch. These soulless shadows of men went about their business without word, interruption, or even breath. Void only called them out when he meant business. This was not a good sign.
Then came Void's booming, echoing voice from every angle; announcing his presence. His face was in every reflected surface in sight.
"Will he ever give us some sort of bloody warning! I was contemplating for mods sake!" I shouted, clutching my chest. He'd startled me out of my skin and I was pretty ed off.
"Terribly sorry Mr Mandy." Void taunted, inspiring chuckles from myself and many others. That had been Astro's nickname for me and it brought about yet another wave of nostalgia. "I would just like to say that we are holding a council of lords."
This brought about a series of gasps and shocked looks. "There hadn't been a Council in 9 years. Not since the bombing of the Council chambers, and the dissolution of the original United Blue and Red governments.
"I know what you're all thinking. We don't want another target for these terrorists who have recently sacked the Realm. However, we have taken every precaution to make this one safe. Besides, I'm sure this "Overlord" is simply a ed off anarchist, with a group of thugs, who between them have only one talent. That talent is stirring up drunkards into a frenzy. I have one thing to say to you Overlord. "Check yo self!" The meeting will take place at the Great Forum in two days. That's all." And so his face flickered out of sight, and his voice faded away.
I turned to face the Council and Order. "Aaron, Small and Cossack. You will accompany me to this Council. Bokane, Abb and Mini, you take most of the Order and our wounded back to the Kingdom. There you will devote our resources to the Overlord case. Dawz and Tejmin will come with myself and my entourage to the Council. After the Council meeting, we will all gather in the palace for tea, scones, and pumpkin pie. Not the cheap guff we usually have, the vintage stuff; from Pie's old stash. After that, we assemble whatever evidence we've gathered and see what comes together. You have your orders. Follow them! Chop Chop!" And so they set about carrying out my orders, leaving me to ponder the mystery of Overlord.
Day 5: A gathering of leaders
"Where is Void? He was supposed to be here an hour ago." "I'd best find out who's here while I wait." I looked around at the Assorted crowd, just about every group on VC was there. From Williamsburg, to Arcation, to the THP Brotherhood. Not a leader was missing. There were even some of the old kings of the Realm present.
I may as well address those who were there specifically. First off there were the knights of Vangaard, the centre of culture and beauty in the Red Zone. They were led by Wolves Glare, one of the finest warriors to ever set foot in this land. It is said that once he slew a Wither with little else but two potatoes, a bow with no string, a tattered old tie and four grams of gunpowder. At his side he held that deceptively cheap-looking sword "Mourning Wood", at the edge of which many men had fallen.
Then there were the Legionnaires; once the heart of military Red Zone, the official army of the United Red Government. Since its dissolution and the disappearance of General Palmer they had entered a period of sharp decline. Then Ruary, a young commander had got it back on its feet, stronger than ever. With their crimson cloaks, and black steel armour they looked like the legionnaires of Ancient Rome. Sadly, this unstoppable appearance didn't help them when I struck last. I allowed myself a moment's smirking. But then I succumbed to the remorse of the memory of that one brief second when I became that which I hated most. Ruary was a tall man, a full three inches taller than myself. with well-built, sturdy shoulders, yet a narrow figure and gaunt face. Those eyes of deep blue were etched with sorrow and war. Yet Ruary himself was a cheerful enough man, with a laid-back attitude and relaxed posture. Nothing like he was in the field.
Ray Tunes and Knight Prodigy of Williamsburg were also there. I couldn't say I was pleased to see them. There was a time when Williamsburg and Gaia's domain were friends. Then Tassadar, originally an ambassador from Williamsburg died, and squabbles over her will had all but destroyed foreign relations. The uprising at the Great Forum two months prior had not helped either. For a second Ray and I's eyes met, then we both looked away in disdain.
Atreidon of Mobius stood alone along the edge of the Forum. He had been apart from The Brotherhood for quite a time now, and was still learning to live with the relative poverty of the old Blue Frontline; as opposed to the diamond encrusted halls of "THP-Land" as it was now called. He clasped that spear which had once been his mod staff; when he was still Mad Dog. His round, leathery face was framed with the straggly dark hair, hanging from beneath his helmet. His light blue armour was dirtied, as were his skin, shield and spear. Despite this appearance he was still that same Archangel who had risen from his own ashes and bested me that day.
Gogyst, Vacar, Walkers, Shadows and Besta of Arcation stood in the centre. All were dressed in their diamond plated Samurai armour, all masked except Gogyst. He wore no helm or mask; just his hood, which cast unnaturally dark shadows over his face, rendering it invisible. On his chest blazed the mark of Arcation. Over his back he had a mighty great-sword. However, this was far from his most terrifying feature. His spear, like Atreidon's had once been a mod's staff, long since stripped of it's magic. However, Gogyst had tinkered with it for a long time and managed to make it into a mass of tricks, traps hidden weapons and explosives. I had seen it in battle but once, and would forever sit in awe and terror of the art with which he used it. I thanked Notch that he was on our side.
Then there were Ozzy and Alec of La Selva, looking most conspicuous indeed. They were dressed in lime green suits over white shirts, with the collars of their coats encrusted with shattered emeralds. On their heads they wore lime green bowler hats, and on their hands they wore gloves of bright white. This combined with the canes hung over their forearms, gave them the look of the Thompson's from "The adventures of Tin-Tin". I thought that they had lost it for a brief moment. Then I noticed the bulge of a breastplate from beneath the shirts, and a crack where the handle of the cane met the shaft. In this crack I saw the glint of an emerald green blade. I smiled; Ozzy always believed that the most subtle things were the most eye-catching.
Then there were the great, iron-loving librarian pirates of Woobly. I must admit I believed many of them to have perished at the end of the THP-R7K war. You see, after they bombed R7K they invoked the full hatred of both Brotherhood and Realm soldiers alike. Not to mention the fact that the librarian pirates had gathered dirt on just about everyone in the land. Therefore the Brotherhood convinced the Realm to lend them some explosives for their journey back, in order to exact vengeance. What they got were three "Bunker-Breakers". R7K special weaponry that could do exactly as the title suggests. Thus as the Brotherhood and her allies marched by the Woobly Pyramid, they fired the missiles at the them. Not a single man, animal, nor Golem survived. Or so we thought, about six months ago Woobly had reared it's rubble-coated head again, wilder than ever.
On the edge of the crowd, already seated at their booth in the various layers (the Forum has been altered to be a cross between the "Galactic Senate" from "Star Wars" and a Greek Amphitheatre) were the Ghosts of Calais. Starletts was looking most smugly at Ray Tunes, who in turn looked uncharacteristically unsettled. It was an "I-know-something-that-will-get-you-into-massive-trouble-but-you-don't-know-what-it-is-yet" sort of look. I took note of it. It could be significant. Ever since Ray and Dom's exchange at their parting, I had had Ray followed everywhere. He was rarely without a stalker from the Order. And when he was without one of us watching him, there was a subcontracted mercenary doing the job for us. Also among the Ghosts was, Viral, looking very sane indeed, sipping tea and making pleasant conversation with that silken tongue of his.
Alas, there were the most menacing looking of all; The Brotherhood of the Try Hard Pants. Five of them stood there, weapons sheathed but never moving their hands off the hilts. First there was Jolly, with his Mask made to resemble a slime, his whip of fire, and his necklace of rings taken from fallen enemies. It had been significantly shortened since Pie slew him in that battle but he had recovered quickly. Then there was Tauto, with his helmet adorned with gold, and lapis, and redstone; with his sword in the scabbard on his left, knife in the scabbard to his right; just as I fought. Tauto however, had an added boost to his lethality. The gauntlet with which he held the knife could channel lightning through it at will, likely to end any it touched. Then there was Ubi, wearing a hood made of diamond threads and turtle mask. He had slotted his chakrams into his wrist-plates where they could be used as shields, but also be grabbed and used as weapons at any time. Little was known of him other than his previous leadership of The Azure Tribe; who had long since faded out of public knowledge. Then came the surprise; Bottany, the hawk-eyed. Bottany was known even less than Ubi, and was still widely thought, like Woobly, to have perished in the great war. Even to those of us who had seen Bottany alive since then were taken aback by his sudden appearance. Lastly there was Komplex, armour emblazoned with the Brotherhood's crest and his two swords slung over his back.
Also there were The Kingdom's newest allies, Waltco and The Blue Alliance. Of Waltco there was just Walt alone. He was an aspiring young businessman with a quick wit, silken tongue, and a way with a bow. I had found him in the slums of starter zone, already setting up an impressive bakery. I had managed to convince him to come to TKG with me and get customers who could properly pay, as well as get funding to expand elsewhere. Since then he had paid for himself ten times over and I was proud to call him friend. He had also become a guest military advisor on the Council for his experience in the field of strategy during the Great Onslaught; even though we'd fought on opposing sides.
Then there was Key G. Persson, a short, thin man, in a tattered suit and fedora, with a permanent look of cunning in his eyes. He had been fighting a guerilla war against the Brotherhood since Dominus surrendered to them the first time. About a year ago they had found his base and raided relentlessly. His Blue Alliance took heavy casualties and was forced to disband. However, recently Key had resurfaced and I was the first to track him down and make a deal. Now he stood with two thugs flanking him, looking ready for a fight.
Also there were Boston and the other leaders of shining Concordis. The brothers Pi and Mj of the Void, a splinter of both The Kingdom of Gaia, and Legion. Lastly, there was Steal, CEO of a shady company known as Infinity Inc. They had no known political allegiances or motives, yet they worried me greatly.
Then Ryan came running forwards into the central platform and began to speak. "Be seated, for the magnificent Lord Void comes forth to address us." He then hopped down from the platform and took his place in the eleven chairs surrounding Void's podium.
I walked through the crowd, looking for the Gaian booth. Sitting there were Aaron, Cossack and Small; drinking and joking among themselves. Dawz and Tej were standing, straining themselves to see over the crowd, presumably looking for me. "Hail Gaians!" I shouted, beaming from ear to ear. "How goes the watch?"
"Oh cut the rubbish Kay! Come sit my old friend." Retorted Aaron with his customary ear-to-ear grin. He then pulled out a mug and began pouring some strange brew of his. "Do have some mead. We may as well enjoy ourselves while we're here."
"Here-Here!" Coughed Small, choking on his drink.
"Fine, I'll take your mead. But don't allow yourselves to get completely smashed as you did at Gba's. We must be vigilant this night. Keep your weapons within reach. Especially you Aaron. Without Secret we lack an archer, you are the only one who can match him from among us." I responded, keeping my tone as casual as possible."
Aaron, maintaining his grin, gestured to me to come closer and whispered in my ear. "They're surrounding the Forum. Void's Guards. He's not allowing any room for error tonight."
I looked up to see that they had locked their shields and were forming a sort of wall around the Forum. Just peaking over their lines you just could make out the roofs of some moderators' houses and the Great tree of Gaia, standing proud against the skyline. It was a sight of beauty over that wall of men. Then the other ten mods (Epsilon, Viking, Cubs, Rage, Gorbanth, Ludio, Splorer, Celtic, Onyx and Yamada) came out, taking their seats around the platform, for us to see Void materialise out of thin air into the centre of it. "Never could resist a chance for a grand entrance." I thought.
"Hello my friends!" He began, arousing a round of applause. "Some of you may have heard the rumours. Rumours of a strange terrorist in a mask who has gone around encouraging the Starters to rebel, and collecting the old weapons of Fedwin. Rumours of an old project started by the Realm during the War. Rumours of the sacking of the Realm. I can confirm all of these I'll tell you one you haven't heard. Overlord just stole Fedwin." He allowed this to sink in for a moment, and for the mutterings of the Clans to silence. "That is right my friends. The tinkerer has been kidnapped by Overlord. That is why we were delayed. However, before I address the Overlord situation. I have potentially darker news."
A battered looking, hunched man, in dented diamond armour that was stained with the marks of battle, limped up to the platform. All of a sudden I realised this to be King Legend. This could not be good if he returned looking like this. "What had happened? Was my Vision coming True? Was Astro okay?" was all that could come to my panicked mind. Then he open his mouth and spoke in a hoarse, raspy voice, coughing frequently.
"Hello people of Vanilla Craft. I come here with news of Dominus and the others. I can safely say that things have taken a dark turn indeed. Dominus has gathered many of our old outlaws. Ace! Peanut! Huskers! Mini Muffin and Eric Blood Axe! And many others! However, I could live with the gathering of these, as I believed some of their innocences and of turning the other cheek. Dominus has gone beyond the point of rallying outlaws. He has unleashed Zerg! Who in turn has raised an army of automatons, and shades of the dead. Not just dead players, no. Of fallen moderators also!" This started utter pandemonium which took ten minutes to calm. After this was done Legend continued. "Myself and Jared, with the aid of Wise One; confronted Dominus and attempted to slay Zerg once and for all. Our armies were slaughtered. Jared and myself were the only survivors. He lies in a medical bay now with a knife in his ribs. I estimate that it will take them three months to organise their forces for a siege. However, even then there are the great gates which keep them from entering. The smaller passages in are easily collapsed or defended so the land is virtually invulnerable as long as the gates hold. I believe that they intend to destroy the wall earlier. Overlord may be connected to this effort."
In the panic that ensued no one noticed someone from the dimly lit table of the Ghosts walk into one of the service tunnels or the two strange hooded figures who waited for him. All eyes were on Void; pleading for a course of action. He seemed almost as taken aback as the rest of us, giving Ryan a "Did you know about this?" sort of look. Epsilon then, deciding that no one was going to calm down any time soon and yelled "QUIET!". This gave me a few seconds to assess my thoughts. "****! My vision is coming true! What is Astro doing? He's normally in the thick of these things. Did he perish with Legend and Jared's armies? Or is he even still with them? Where the hell did I leave my coat? Was that even a real doorman? Everyone else who wore a coat seems to still have their's? Oh god that man was a thief wasn't he! That was my best coat! Overlord sucks. Oh yes, the wall. Oh dear we'd best start thinking about that." came my scattered, random thoughts.
Void began to speak again, his tone filled with forced unwilling uncertainty. "First off, Dominus can batter those walls all he likes. There's no way of getting through those walls. Herobrine himself couldn't shatter them ten long years ago.
As for Overlord; we've known of Overlord for about a month now. But we believe he's been in operation as a terrorist for longer. Last month he occupied the starter zone city known as "Vanilla City" for three days. We went in to storm the city and he, nor any of this private army of his were anywhere to be found. However there was a sharp decrease in people. He has done multiple smaller operations of occupying shanty towns, gathering men and leaving since then. Just two nights ago he sacked R7K's Capitol and laid siege to the citadel. It was foolish of us not to warn of him before. But we are taking measure to catch him as we speak.
For one, we know that he is or was a member of The Ghosts of Calais. We also know he wears a mask of quartz that resembles that weird group, "Anonymous's" masks. So if you see a mask similar to that... Yeah... um... tell us. I know to go on!" Void quickly interjected, hearing the boos of many dissatisfied leaders. "However, we can hunt him down. We already have a list of suspects. They are as follow-" That's when he interjected.
"Sorry Void, I don't believe I can allow you to do that." Came Overlord's mocking voice, his face appearing in every surface suddenly, then vanishing just as quickly as it had arrived.
It came from nowhere. A missile struck the Williamsburg booth, sending Ray and knight flying as the flames consumed their comrades. The duo lay strewn out on the stairs leading up to the edge. Then another came down on the edge, smashing the seemingly impenetrable lines of the guards as if they were but an eggshell. Then another struck the tree of Gaia, cutting through the leaves into the trading hut. One flew at Void's platform, but he simply raised a hand and it stopped, and he threw it into the nearby lake with just a flick of his wrist. Then a missile struck just behind our booth, sending us flying. Each ball of flame kicked up more rubble and dirt, and created a larger crater than the last. At last the rain of fire stopped.
I lay on the ground, my diamond armour sullied and dented from the explosion. I crawled to my feet, straining even to see. When I got up I saw Small dragging Cossack, who's leg was twisted out of place, towards the safety of the service tunnels. Dawz and Tej were helping Aaron to stand up. I ran up to them.
"What was that?" demanded Tejmin desperately.
"My guess," began Aaron gruffly, cutting across me before I could begin. "Overlord's spoils from the citadel."
"Must say I agree." Said Small, who was approaching us; having left Cossack in a cupboard, safely out of harm's way. "This sort of fire-power could only be a Fedwin invention. Now they have him held hostage. "
We all drew weapons, and stood in a circle ready for battle. The hordes poured into the basin. At their head was Overlord's honor guard. Overlord himself was wearing his mask, a travelling cloak and a brilliant white gauntlet. To his right was the Golem, showing no wounds from our last encounter. There would have been over 3000 of them in the square had Void not acted quickly. Thankfully we had but 300 to deal with.
He raised his now luminous staff high above his head, arms shaking under an invisible weight. All of a sudden the ground around the top of the Forum began to raise into the great circular wall, some ten metres high. He looked at Ryan, Celtic, Onyx and Epsilon and they shimmered out of sight. They appeared on top of the wall just a split-second later, blasting down any who dared to attempt the climb.
Of all the warriors who fought that day Arcation proved themselves mightiest. Vacar cutting down men with that flaming sword of his like a farmer cutting down wheat, reaping in the harvest. Besta with his Bow, and Walkers with his great shield, like a brick wall. Besta would stand to fire an arrow, felling a man, and then Walkers would raised the shield and prevent the hail of arrows that came for his comrade from finding flesh. Then there was Shadows, swinging his axe, every which way, leaving a trail of body parts and death as he pushed forwards. Then Gogyst, with his spear of tricks, was thrusting it at any he could, often blasting fire or some hidden poison-tipped needle from a hidden hatch in the shaft.
In the centre, the remaining mods, the legionnaires and the knights of Vangaard were struggling to hold off the onslaught of the Golem. They would have fallen there and then had Wolves, Ruary and Komplex not set seen through the chaos and rushed the Golem, attacking from each side, distracting it in any way they could. Alec and Ozzy quickly joined them, harassing the Golem with their bows. Small looked quickly for approval to break off from the group of TKG members and her allies that were attempting to battle part of Overlord's honour guard. I nodded approvingly and he was off, hacking at the Golem's legs with his little knife.
We were able to force back the small group of elite soldiers quite easily. We then turned our attention to the centre. By we I mean the TKG delegation (minus Small), Walt and a few hired swords of his, Pi and MJ, and Mr. Persson and his thugs. In the centre Atreidon and Cubs were standing by Void, who was lying on the floor unconscious. Overlord and the main body of his honour guard were advancing fast. Viking and Ludio stood in their way but was soon overwhelmed by their sheer strength of numbers. Atreidon Hurled his spear at a guard coming onto the platform, striking him just above the nipple, drawing much blood. He then lunged at his foe, tackling him and a man just to his right, toppling off of the platform.
Overlord set his iron boot upon the quartz platform with a sickening clang. He, flanked by his guard walked slowly towards Void. Cubs stepped resolutely between them, creating a barrier between them. Overlord spoke, voice muffled from the solid quartz of the mask. "Do step aside boy, you'll make a fool of yourself." This caused his men to chuckle at the sight of a relatively weak-looking young man with a metal rod and cloak standing between them and Void. There was a tense moment of silence, then Overlords men rushed forwards to be met with Cubs full fury. He crushed necks to dust with his staff, threw men farther than thought to be possible, he drew their blood with his short-sword.
We noticed that Cubs would eventually be overrun and prepared action. Aaron and Walt nocked arrows and began to pick off the men who advanced on the platform from small vantage points on the abandoned booths nearby. Pie Thingey and MJ ran around the side, hoping to sneak up on Overlord. Walt's mercenaries joined Key, his thugs and the two Gaian warriors, Dawz and Tej. I ran with them, hoping to spill some of Overlord's blood myself.
Then, as we got within ten metres, Overlord stepped towards Cubs. "I grow tired of these games." He began, boredom turning to malice in his voice. "It is time for the main event." He threw back his cloak to reveal his gauntlet of quartz. He reached outwards and the light in the middle of the palm glowed, and the staff flew from Cubs's grasp into Overlord's outstretched hand; to be crudely cast aside. As Cubs gaped in shock a ball of lightning formed in Overlord's palm, which he threw at the dumbstruck mod, blasting him aside like a dandelion petal in the wind.
Key rushed at Overlord with his men, striking down a spear-wielding guard as they went. Overlord's quartz plated fingers merged together into a mighty blade and he cut down both of Key's guards before reverting it to its normal stand and blasting Key apart. Then came Pie and Mj, fighting through the crowd with their knives. Mj swung at Overlord's head, but he ducked under the blow, throwing an uppercut into Mj's throat. Mj spluttered blood and crumbled into dust as the gauntlet collided with his throat, reducing bone to powder. Pie, angered at the demise of his brother, rushed at Overlord, swinging his knife at Overlords unprotected arm. The knife cut through and left a jagged welt on Overlords fore-arm. This however angered the madman. He drew a Baby Jesus with his wounded arm and shot Pie in the hip. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his hip where a ragged wound surrounded by burn-marks showed.
Dawz and Tej rushed forward. Dawz first shot a Guard in the nape of the neck with his bow and then tackled Overlord. Tej ran forward and began to carry the wounded Pie from battle, beating back the attackers with his combat knife. Dawz and Overlord continued to grapple until Overlord punched Dawz in the gut, and pushed the winded warrior back. Dawz tried to shoot again but his foe simply batted it from his grip. Dawz tried to recover by swinging his knife at Overlord. However he countered with his gauntlet and clasped Dawz's head, frying it with a ball of lightning. Tej, in a fit of rage, charged at Overlord but was run through with that great white blade; promptly crumbling to dust.
Then, with Walt covering us, Aaron and I readied our weapons and rushed at him. Breaking through the line of guards that was forming around Overlord and the still unconscious Void we used a tradition high-low tactic. Aaron would hack his axe at the legs and I would cut through his neck with Amicus. However, Overlord somersaulted over us both, landing behind us. He then hurled a ball of lightning at me, which I just barely dodged, losing balance as that warm, blue flash flew past my left ear. Aaron swung at his gauntleted arm, but was blocked with a ringing clang that kicked up a shower of sparks. The axe began to splinter and Aaron recoiled in shock. In this moment of dismay Overlord clouted him around the head, leaving him unconscious.
I rushed at him to defend Aaron, but after having Amicus wrenched from my hand, I was felled also. I lay face-down on the cold, hard, smooth ground, facing the Overlord as he finally continued his advance on Void. He stood over our fallen leader, now grabbing him, lifting him by the scruff of his neck with his bare hand holding the gauntlet close to Void's face, illuminating it with a pale blue light. I could swear I saw him smirk as he prepared to blast Void from the face of this earth.
He would have done so if it weren't for Viking, who had broken free from an engagement from some particularly ferocious men and their hounds who wished to test their metal against a moderator. How foolish they had been to challenge this slayer of men, this champion of Void's. He who Void himself had chosen to battle the Ender dragon whenever it reformed, keeping it from breaking free from it's prison. Viking saw his master being readied for slaughter and pulled his bloodstained javelin from his back. He threw that javelin with all his strength, sending it soaring across the starry sky, heading for his master's assailant. It sadly fell short, and struck Overlord on the collarbone of his gauntleted arm, saving Viking's master but failing to end the menace. Overlord fell to the ground quite helpless, blood spilling onto the white platform as he tried to yank the diamond tipped projectile from his shoulder. Viking, cursing under his breath, drew his blade and charged forwards.
At this moment the Golem witnessed its fallen master helpless on the platform, and broke free from his struggle, batting Komplex aside like he was a fly and shaking the warriors of La Selva off of its mighty shoulders. Then, kicking Small aside, ran towards Overlord, firing bullet after bullet at Viking, and any other who should oppose him. Viking was forced to take cover behind some rubble as the Golem's shells tore up the ground. Keeping up the rain of death the Golem ran up to its master, yanked out the spear with it's talon like fingers and threw him over its shoulder. It then turned tail and fled back up to the edge of the Forum, to a crack in Void's wall; a three soldiers of Overlord's honour guard accompanying it.
I pulled myself to my feet and looked around. Those around me were either fighting or unconscious or tending to their wounded. Aaron lay on the ground, a great bruise forming on his unconscious face. Viking was tending to Void, evidently not willing to leave his master's side. The other mods were locked in combat. Cossack had broken free from his supply cupboard with a bucket upon his head, supported by a mop, lashing out with a rake yelling "THE PINK SHEEP ARE COMING!". Only Walt came rushing to me, bow in hand. "Kay, what should we do? Are you all right?" He asked, tone frantic.
"I think I'm okay my friend. As for what we do..." I looked up to see two hooded figures, surrounded by some eight bodyguards and clasping Perks in their hands awaiting the Golem as it climbed the great stone stairs. Then there was the part that really caught my attention. Prodigy, was crawling up the steps and preparing to attack; looking badly burned. I took a glance at the Williamsburg table. Ray was burnt to a crisp and quite plainly dead. The Golem reached the rim of the Forum, and with its entourage, and marched in the direction of the Pit of Banishment. That's when Prodigy appeared to curse, pull out a small blue gem, and threw it. It crashed onto the roof of one of the nearby moderator houses, and with a puff of smoke he materialised on top of the roof. Once he had straightened up he continued to sneak along after the entourage.
Walt pulled out one of these Ender Pearls himself. "Shall we go?" He asked, testing my thirst for adventure. For a moment, I was almost crazy enough to refuse; but the delusion that I could stay out of this left me immediately. Besides, Astro would have never forgiven me for letting Tass's bloodline die out without a fight.
"Fine, lets make this quick. Try to keep the fighting to a minimal please I've just received a bloody hard blow to the head and I'm not my usual nimble self."
Walt grinned and put his arm , "Of course my friend. I'll be stealthy. Hold on!" And he lobbed the pearl at the same roof Prodigy had landed on. However, it fell short and smashed off the wall and we began to tumble to the ground. Thankfully our fall was cushioned by the fabric roof of a fish merchant's stall.
I sat up slowly and groggily, head spinning, not sure what to expect. I saw Prodigy jumped down into the entourage, holding a Perk in his left hand, a sword in the right. First he fired two shots at Overlord, who still hung over the Golem's shoulder. The shots missed and ricocheted off the Golem's metal skin. In an effort to protect its master the it fled past the pit of banishment. Then he drew held his sword aloft and began to fight like an animal. No method was beneath him. He slashed; he shot; he lashed out with his limbs; he crushed skull under his diamond boots; I'm pretty sure he even sunk his teeth into one of them. He fought valiantly but alas it was not enough. He was surrounded by the remaining six guards and one of the hooded figures. The other hooded figure, the shorter and stouter of the two, simply leaned back by the edge of the Pit and watched, seemingly amused.
The hooded figure amidst Prodigy's attacker was wearing a dark blue cloak and hood, underneath which was a black painted set of diamond armour in the Gaian fashion, but with dark twists. The tree chiselled onto the chest appeared burned and withered, and was painted in blood red. The shoulder-pads had strange, claw-like spikes coming from beneath them, like a demon were holding them in the palm of each hand. The same was true of the knee-pads and the elbow-guards. Their face was as invisible as Gogyst's, perhaps even more so.
It spoke with a cold, cutting, spine-chilling feminine voice that rasped on every "S" and rolled every "R", "Kill him, my servants." The attackers raised their swords high over their heads and got ready to end Prodigy. They would have there and then had Walt not shaken himself from stupor and struck a guard in the temple with an arrow. This distracted them from the execution long enough for Prodigy to break free
I reacted soon after, charging at them like a bull at a matador; firing my Perk wildly, striking a man thrice and knocking him flat on the cobbled street. Prodigy, acting on our distraction rushed at the shorter hooded figure. He pinned the figure to the wall of the pit, holding his head over the soul-sucking darkness of the Pit, whispers of remorse and madness coming from the punished somewhere in that endless darkness. Prodigy then threw back the dark blue hood of the man, revealing a shadowed face from which I couldn't make out any features.
Prodigy however, looked shocked; horrified even. In this moment of shock, the hooded woman pulled out a Perk and shot prodigy twice. Once to the neck, one to the leg. He crumpled onto the floor, gasping for air like a fish that had just been plucked from the sea, awaiting death shortly. The shorter figure then kicked him in the gut and ran off, noticing the large number of Void's men who had come from nowhere. The others followed him shortly. Walt and I ran over to the fallen Prodigy, kneeling over him.
"I'll get a medic." Panted Walt.
"You do that." I replied, dazed, lost for words. I had failed Astro, Tass's line had ended. I could not feel more guilty. "I'm sorry." I said weakly, choking back tears of rage and grief. "I-I w-will end them... I will a-avenge you!"
Then Prodigy spoke gravely, fading in and out as he choked on his own blood. "Weep not... King of men... friend... More to this... There is more to th-this than you think..."
"What Prodigy? What more is there?" I asked, most disturbed by this sudden serious talk from him. I had never heard him speak like this before.
"No time... Warn... he will... deceived... he will be deceived..." Then his voice trailed off. He coughed up some more blood. Then his eyes glazed over, and shut for the last time. [i"]Funny,"
Day 24: Ultimatum
I walked down the wide hallway, diamond boots clanging off of the iron grill beneath my feet. It was a roughly built bunker, with iron supports and walkways holding it up, and walls of smoothed stone. It was dimly lit by the flickering redstone lamps overhead. "Why they want me down in this pit constantly instead of up there, living luxuriously in the palace. As is my right, this land is mine. Void has no claim to it. No! He is but Qustom's advocate. chosen by Qustom with only the intention of slighting me! Besides, if we conquered this, "Aegis", we may as well take advantage of it... My thoughts trailed off into a series of insults directed towards those two.
The fact that they were so key to my revolution made them all the more insulting. Without them I never would have been able to take up the mask, and begin this glorious revolt of the working class against the bourgeois, and the autocracy of Void and Qustom. Soon, Fedwin would have completed his job. Fedwin, he'd always been a good friend to me, and was of exceptional usefulness. I almost felt bad keeping him in chains while he worked, and of his poor treatment. He had all that he needed to finish the job. The show would happen in just a week. Today was the opening act. Disposing of the waste.
The great steel doors swung open in front of me, squeaking as they did so. I shielded my eyes from the sudden burst of light from the studio. We had to keep it well lit for my public messages, which we did every 24 hours now. We figured it was a good way of asserting our dominance over the server. Doing something that only Void could previously do.
I walked over to the usual set. A throne of quartz in a black, well lit throne room with a floor covered in red wool. Strangely absent was my Golem, Antioch. He was always positioned there. I had always thought it was rather, unbecoming for him to always be positioned there. The last of his kind, made into a set-piece at best, a cheap mascot at worst. Then I noticed it.
"Where in Jeb's name are the camera crew? I thought we were disposing of the prisoners today?" Came my rumbling voice.
"Sorry boss, we thought you'd been told. They are filming by the waterfall today. The Fat Bloke just came and told us." Said a young guard called Nathan; rather meekly if I might add.
"Well they haven't told me!" I angrily replied, gripping him by his shirt and holding the gauntlet up to his face. "I don't like not being told things, and then have idiots like you tell what I'm supposed to know!"
"I'm s-sorry sir. I won't s-show such disrespect again." He stammered, cringing at the sight of the gauntlet that had slain so many. Then I threw him to the floor, causing him to slide across the polished metal floor. He turned and began to crawl away. "T-thank you master... F-for being mercifu-" He
A walk of 10 minutes up into the mountains brought me to the waterfall. It was a warehouse like room, cut off halfway through by a jutting piece of rock, opening onto a heavy waterfall. By the waterfall were four mods; all bound and gagged, with a total of six armed guards in diamond kit around them. By the camera was the Fat One, who insisted that I called him "Williams". I had no idea who he was, or what he really wanted, but despite all he and his colleague had done for me, I would end them as soon as possible. I despised them, with his all-seeing eyes, and cold calculating mind; and her ruthless anger, and maniacal tendencies. All the more worrying was the fact that she was just as cold and calculating as Williams. She was called "Falcon".
Falcon, was standing in the corner, glaring at me from beneath her hood. " she's creepy..." I thought to myself. Beside the prisoners was Antioch, looking most indignant. He had not had a good time as of late, he hadn't been in what he viewed as a proper battle in over a week, since we hunted down and slaughtered what remained of the Azure Tribe. Since then he'd mostly been in these daily updates. His indignation was all the more because of the slaughter a few days ago.
He and Falcon had been guarding a convoy that was en route to the red Frontline. Nothing special was in it; just a bit of weaponry, armour and food, as well as about 250 new recruits. As they were passing through the Frontline city they were ambushed. However it was not the usual sort of ambush by the Brotherhood, Legion, The Void or Vangaard. The only way any survivors could describe it was "The Fires of the Nether broken loose in someone's bathroom". They had been gunned down in swathes by a party of 50 or so Gaian raiders (who had positioned themselves inside the various buildings surrounding the convoy) with what appeared to be long range Perks. Only 100 of our men made it out alive, and half of the supplies were lost. The only casualties the enemy sustained were a few legionnaires who showed up out of nowhere and tried to take advantage of the retreat. Antioch had been powerless to do anything but watch as his men were slaughtered. Robot though he was, he had a way of letting emotions get the better of him.
I walked over to the camera crew, shot Williams a glare and inquired. "As we rehearsed?"
"A few new lines," He responded in his usual sour fashion. "Mostly to do with the mods but also about our ultimatum. Best look over it quickly."
He tossed me a copy of the script and walked over beside Falcon. A few minutes of script reading later I walked in front of the moderators. There was the traditional countdown from 5 and then we began, spreading our message across the whole server.
"Good evening my subjects." I began, as calmly, as I could, changing from malice to kindness as I went along. "You may have noticed that since the battle for the Forum a few of your Beloved Moderators have gone missing. Void hasn't addressed this issue I am sure. Why? Because it would damage the image he portrays to you. Of HIS invincible crew of bodyguards!
"I say to you today my people. These are far from invincible; and they should not be Void's personal playthings. NO! They are meant to be your protectors, who defend us from black magic and mushroom trolls. However, because Void uses them as tools, that does not mean they are any less guilty themselves. They themselves are lazy, useless, and corrupt! They embody everything that is wrong with this system!
"I have held them hostage out of good will up until now. However, a few days ago, about 150 innocent men and 50 soldiers, were murdered ruthlessly. Simple traders and farmers with no intention of joining the fighting, simply of being allowed to move safely through the frontlines and set up their new home under the protection of our troops.
"They were gunned down mercilessly by those we thought to be pure in all of this. The Gaians, the new power, who we once thought to be simply misled by Void in their early days; tempted by his lies. Now we know their true face. They and their King, this Kay Mandy, betray their own cause by defending the Brotherhood, those who they fought for so long.
"In retribution, three of these men will die." I gestured to the captive moderators kneeling beside me. "The moderators in question are as follows; Ludio; Celtic; Splorer; and Onyx. They are lined up in that order. I figured I'd play a little game to decide who shall live."
I flicked my wrist, causing the Perk to spring into my palm. "In my hand I have a Brotherhood invention, a Baby Jesus Perk. I believe it is only fair that the corrupt be slain by the product of those who corrupted them. There are four bullets in a Perk that can be fired without reloading. Three of these are loaded, one is blank. After being shot they will be thrown out into the waterfall behind me, to make sure they are dead. The remaining one will be held as insurance until you do as I ask Void.
"But, that's a topic for later. Now, for their reckoning. First up, LUDIO!"
I walked up to the old ship master, the canal builder. In the weeks of his captivity he had grown an uneven beard, and his long grey hair was matted with filth. His white prison shirt was completely caked with blood, vomit, dirt, and just about everything else you find in a prison cell. He looked up at me with those once warm, brown eyes; now turned broken and bloodshot.
"May Notch have mercy on your soul." I whispered. There was a bang, and he crumpled in a heap, before being grabbed by Antioch, and thrown into the waterfall. "Now, Celtic. You've been a very naughty boy haven't you. Was it not you who felled the gates of the Realm that day and allowed the Brotherhood access that day?" This was utter rubbish but it was best to throw some uncertainty about heroes such as him before killing them. He remained silent, giving me a confused, disbelieving kind of look.
"Not talking eh? Well then, may you find peace among Herobrine's legions of the damned." I squeezed the trigger and prepared to see him crumple. However he moved at the last moment; and dodged to the left. He then broke free from his bonds and brandished the tiny piece of flint he had used to cut loose, and the bloody welts on his palms. Taking advantage of my dismay he boxed me on the ear, knocking me to the floor.
Celtic then proceeded to stab a guard in the throat and throw another to the uneven floor of the waterfall's mouth. He was about to finish him off when my bullet pierced his throat. He rolled off the guard, and then, seeing the other guards closing in, he rolled into the waterfall, never to be seen again.
"A noble death ladies and gentlemen. However, removing himself from this earth, as honourable a feat as it is, will do little to help his judgement in the next life. Now, Splorer. I've nothing much on you. You don't appear to have done anything really bad... hm... Ah well I'm sure you're a douche bag anyway! Bang-bang time!" And with an actual bang Splorer crumpled like Ludio, to have Antioch throw his corpse into the waterfall. He appeared to be making up for losing the Celtic throw, for Splorer went through the waterfall and landed in the ground on the other side of the lake at the bottom.
"I guess that makes Onyx our lucky survivor viewers!" I pretended to clap and a fake applause sound came on. "Now, for my demands. As the traitor Legend told you I may be involved in the effort to destroy the gate. That, is entirely correct. Dominus is a personal friend of mine and he will be returning soon after the wall has fallen, with some very powerful friends. Right now he appeals to the True Court for aid from the other Crafts. Anyway, my demands are, that Void surrender the Brotherhood, Atreidon, the remaining Moderators and himself. Also, optionally, my old friend Gbaman; the ex-mods Gogyst and Super Iain; the man who betrayed the Realm for the Brotherhood, Bebe Man; and if you can find her, the ex-mod Amaerin. Otherwise, I will first of all destroy the gate using the weapons of Onyx and his now deceased companions. We'll give you an image of the device now."
A short, chubby man with a beard holding paintings of the weapon ran, panting in front of the camera and held up the paintings, alternating them every few seconds. "The Moderators, Gba and Woobly should know what this is. Also those parasitical little children who dare call themselves soldiers who broke into my vault beneath R7K's citadel three weeks ago should know what I'm talking about as well. Secondly, Onyx and the other prisoners will be executed live for everyone to see. Now, goodnight."
"We are clear!" Came the cry of Fabio, the cameraman, following me as I walked back towards my chambers. "Excellent work Ovey! Next time though, try to keep your posture straight. You looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame."
I shot him a cold look, and he ceased attempting to make eye contact. "And that is why I keep you chained to that peg Fabio." At this point the chain reached its maximum length and he tripped, collapsing to the floor.
"Oh, yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Can you please at least loosen the chain? Its really starting to hurt my leg. Are you even listening Ovey? Ovey? Dammit Ovey liste-" At which point the doors slammed on him, cutting off the rest of his whines. I then dismissed my guard and walked into the elevator alone. Or at least, I thought I was alone.
I turned and there she was, Falcon. She spoke with her almost reptilian voice, sending chills up my spine. "Excellent work my Overlord... My friend... My Starletts…”
Okay, I just realized that spoilers don't work properly on Internet explorer. I'll have the next half of chapter 2 uploaded in the next few days. Please, do tell me what you think of this. Best way to improve is to know what is wrong
So, here it is, the second half of chapter 2. Will post the final piece of it later. It deserves its own segment! Again, please tell me what you think and it you like it please hit that little green button!
Here's some noteworthy feedback so far:
[quote="Astro_Joe"]You're good
-Astro_joe
[quote="Synthenos"] You're pretty good
-Synthenos
[quote="Farteh16"] You're good.
-Farteh16
[quote="Cossack263"] Such... horrible... impressions... my ears bled... You're good.
-Cossack263
[quote="Gogyst"] Kmandy, I got dem gangstaz to tranzizzle your text, gotta check it out.
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You're good btw
-Gogyst
Chapter 2: A storm of Superlative proportions
Day 31:
It had been a week since the Ultimatum was delivered, Overlord would attack tonight in an attempt to end this war once and for all. The wall would be destroyed in two days. In response to this dastardly plan Void had devised a desperate counter-attack. It was desperate indeed, especially as Void himself had been called to the True Court, to attend the annual summit, he had only left in the hope that he could either end the feud with Dominus or gather a force to match him. In his place, Ryan was in charge, organising all that he could. Void's last command before heading out was to open the "Omega Initiative".
The Omega initiative was the last resort of the Vanilla Craft. It involved us retreating to some form of safe-house, rumoured to be the Craft's original home, in the Old Continent. Around 500 years ago the Golden Revolution of the Pigmen, Humans and Testificates against the True Court had taken place. They had lost miserably. The Pigmen, leaders of the revolt were banished to the Nether. The Testificates had been robbed of the knowledge they once cherished so greatly; cursed to roam the world as idiots, only knowing how to create their Golems to defend themselves by instinct. The humans, were shown mercy due to Herobrine's endless appeals to Notch. However, Herobrine's people, the Thaumic people, had led the human conspiracy against Notch, and in return were turned into barbarous beings and scattered to the mountains. Notch proceeded to eliminate the leaders of the previously rebellious Crafts, and many of those who had opposed him on other matters. Because of this Qustom had proceeded to leave for the new continent, as did many others.
A new city was established and the Craft continued to prosper. This was until Zerg's rebellion around 100 years ago. The entire Craft was destroyed, and Qustom was slain. Void then banished Zerg into a prison of fire and brimstone and proceeded to move on, and established our current home; holding a much looser grip on the Craft this time. He spent much of his time up until now writing down his story, and continuing his research into the Old Magics.
The Initiative finally offered an opportunity to finally regroup with British, Gracey and Petergam on the way to the ruins, allowing ourselves to further reap the rewards of their research. "After I sent them out those long years ago..." I thought mournfully to myself. I quickly snapped myself out of my sudden sadness. "Both you and they knew that it was risky business going out into the Wastelands! They went not because of some devotion to you, or the cause, but because they knew, and so did you, that they could do it! And they have! Rejoice damn you! REJOICE!"
However tempting the opportunity to get more rifles (and more advanced weapons) was, the Gaians would be stretched to their limits. A journey like this would surely kill many of us off. Especially if I took them off the beaten path into the Wastes.
It did not help that we had to finish off Overlord before leaving. Thanks to the discovery of a badly wounded, but just living Celtic by the Brotherhood, we had tracked Overlord to the city of Aegis. We knew he had captured and fortified Aegis prior to Celtic's testimony but were having trouble deciphering whether he was actually hiding in the city. Now we had developed an elaborate attack plan. The idea was to get into the base with a series of elite strike teams guided by Woobly, who had broken into the city back when it was under Brotherhood Ownership. They would then be able to sneak their way through while a massive assault drew most of the defending troops away. Once inside the strike teams would disable the turret, rescue the hostages, screw up Overlord's defences, open the gates, and finally join up to capture or kill Overlord and his fellow commanders.
This, whether the plan succeeded or not did not really matter to me. The first stage alone lifted a huge burden from our people. Tonight they would flee to the protection of the Court of Mojang. Void, Epsilon and many of my old allies were there. There they would be guarded; with Cossack and Abb leading them.
Too many people had been lost already. The Mining district had been forced to stop digging due to silverfish infestation, causing many to be reliant on benefits. Logging District were trapped to our borders due to a lack of trees within them, and incessant raiding parties on those going out. However, on occasion they were allowed out to go out and burn the trees surrounding enemy camps. Commerce was only able to trade with Arcation, and in increasingly limited amounts. Farming was being pillaged endlessly. Industry and Knowledge had redirected all of their efforts towards the Redstone bomb, and its part in the plan. The Order was suffering drastic losses in its ongoing war against insurgency, their morale damaged since the death of Dawz.
I walked into my room, waiting for me were four people. Leaning against the nearest post of my four-posting was Secret, fully equipped in Gaian armour, with the deceptively light diamond skin of his breastplate adorned with the many decorations of the general. The breastplate had once been the property of General Itzburg, or R.B. as he liked to be known. His all-seeing eyes never missed the picking of a pocket, the bulge of a hidden weapon, the twitch of a lie. There were rumours among the Order that he could see even the subtlest poison. Over his back was slung both his old green ranger's cloak, and his obsidian plated quiver; that would never be found empty for as long as Secret lived, and was given to him by Herobrine in the Great Onslaught. Clasped in his right hand was his great ebony longbow. His Gingery hair and beard glinted copper in the golden twilight; which pushed through the great windows, bleaching everything in its bright hue. His eyes brightened and filled with life at the sight of me, and a great grin spread across his face. At his side hung his chipped, ancient, broadsword, which may as well have been a knife due to its shortness. I had many a time urged him to forge a new one, or at least polish it beyond simply keeping it sharp. However, as he always said, "Its long enough to reach my enemies. When a lesser fighter manages to fell me due only to the length of his sword, with no other contributing factors like skill and or numbers; then, and only then, will it be necessary."
In his armchair in the corner of the room was Aaron, who held his mighty greatsword in his lap. The sword, despite the inlaid gold fading, and the lapis gems cracking and crumbled, and the many chips in the inwardly curved blade; still managed to strike fear into the heart of any foe who laid eyes upon it. His cool, electric blue eyes reflecting not only his calm, laid-back persona, but also his quick-thinking mind, which ceaselessly ran through every possible scenario. Some scenarios he thought of were potentially impossible, but he honestly didn't give two s! It could still be possible that a yak wearing a straight jacket and hipster glasses, with two bombs strapped two its chest and a spoon hanging from its nose could've ran into the Nether Hub, yelled "DEATH TO HUMANITY COMRADES!" and exploded, destroying myself, Tautochrone and Atreidon during our duel. His olive coloured skin glistened with the mild sweat from the heat of the day. His black hair poked out in damp tufts from beneath his skull cap. His armour was similar to that of Secret's and my own, lacking many of the decorations but still the same design.
Linx was wearing the same armour as Aaron, with the addition of a helmet. His narrow face smiling in a relieved fashion at the sight of me. He and Secret had evidently been arguing again. Tensions had been running high between them as of late. It had started the night after the Council had been announced during a small skirmish between Insert and about five other elite soldiers and twenty or so Order soldiers. Some sort of drunken feud had turned nasty, one of Insert's friend's had been struck a blow to the nose by a member of the Order in a bar in Walthampton. He had later returned with Insert and a few others.
They had then proceeded to rough up the man who had harmed Insert's friend when he was alone in the bathroom. Then a number of Order members who were present got involved, and eventually the entire population of the bar was in turmoil. Secret and Linx had both been summoned to intervene. It developed into a stand off where both backed their division, and the argument went beyond it. Linx, in his anger had accused Secret of boasting too greatly of his part in the Battle of The Nether Hub; remarking that he had no great kills to his name, and that he had simply preyed off of inexperienced mercenaries and the weaker Pigmen. Secret had in response accused Linx of being a cheaper, more cowardly knock-off of himself, and the Order of being a group of children with no real talent, tactics, or common sense. He'd gone as far as accusing Linx himself of being delusional; bringing up Linx's claims of Overlord having invisible spies within the city. Since then you could barely get the two "factions" to sit in the same room without a major feud breaking out. Aaron and I had been forced to play peacemaker between the two.
"So, shall we proceed to the war room my liege?" Asked Linx as pleasantly as possible, making to open the corresponding door, only to be shunted out of the way by Secret.
"Yes, shall we old friend?" Secret began, staring at me with false calm. I walked through the doors, rolling my eyes. As I momentarily glanced back, I saw the two staring daggers into each other before walking through individually.
"Can you guys stop it for five minutes. we need to stay focused for this operation! You're squabbling over a couple of idiots who decided to rough each other up in a bar. That's right, I'm calling you out over the real cause of the argument. I'm not going to say whether either side is right because Linx said you were cowardly in battle Secret, or because you called Linx incompetent and delusional! You Secret need to get you AND your troop's egos under control, as well as teaching them that they don't run the place. And Linx, watch your tongue and discipline your men better! Now kiss and make up!" Cried Aaron suddenly. There was a wild look of infuriation on his face that was most unlike him. There was a long pause as everyone stared at him in awkward silence.
"Is the kissing mandatory?" Inquired Linx uncomfortably. This earned him a slap from Aaron. Secret laughed cruelly and earned himself an equal loss of dignity.
"Just, shake hands and apologise..." Said Aaron coldly. The two obliged immediately. "Good, now lets meet with the others, shall we?" He asked, returning to his normal self. We stared at him as he turned away, walking towards the war room.
"Wow. Just... Wow!" Said Secret, and we all went after him.
Five minutes later we arrived at the iron doors of the War Room beneath the vault. On either side was an elite soldier. Each dressed in full enchanted diamond, with swords slung at their sides and rifles in their hands. We had tried to spread all 300 rifles evenly across the 1000 men covering our retreat. I personally thought arming all 10 palace guards with rifles was a pointless waste of resources but Secret, Cossack, Linx and Aaron all concurred that it was necessary to protect me properly, if only to keep up morale.
The doors slip open slowly, trundling as the pistons retracted into their crude fittings. We slowly walked in, black cloaks gliding behind us like waves of living shadow. Standing under the flickering light of the redstone lamp were the others. Bokane stood over the map; clasping his wand in his left hand, and leaning on the table with his right; at his side was his bag of tricks, Thaumaturge's robes hanging over him. Mini, was dressed in his clunky, dented, rusty iron armour; with his old mace at his side. Only a vague purple shimmer every here and there hinted that it was more than it seemed. I had insisted that he take a new set of armour, however he insisted that he must fight like his men in order to truly become their leader. Not with decadence and grace, but with brutality and crudeness. I admired his desire to truly stand with his men; experiencing the same hardships as they did.
Small stood in the corner, dressed in black painted diamond, clasping an enchanted hoe that had been altered to act as a weapon. Over his back were slung the two short-swords he had used since we arrived in this land. Walt was in unaltered diamond, bow slung over his back and broadsword in his scabbard. Key was standing in the corner, wearing ceremonial golden armour, clasping a diamond sword. He felt he must prove himself again, taking a tradition of the True Court and wearing gold throughout a battle; knowing that he would die sooner than any other or emerge a hero. ABB and Cossack were the only ones in civilian clothes, being the only ones among us who would leave for the True Court today. They were saying their goodbyes. At the head of the map table was a weary looking Rage Peanut, explaining the plan to Bokane, Small, Mini, Walt and Key. A moderator was supposed to be dispatched to every group before the operation began to explain the plan. However, due to the deaths of Yamada, Ludio and Splorer and the absence of Void and Epsilon; the six remaining mods (including the injured Celtic) had to attend every group on a tight schedule. Rage appeared most impatient as we walked in.
"Come on! I'm on a tight schedule!" Demanded Rage grumpily.
"Ah shut it Ragey! We get round to everything eventually. We Gaians aren't famed for our efficiency. If you want that you should have just forgotten about us and gone to Legion." I responded in a forced laziness.
"Perhaps I should have." He said scornfully, although I could tell he was at least mildly amused by my pointless antics. "Now, lets go through this plan one last time."
And so he went into the details of this stage of the plan. Of the Redstone bomb in the centre of the city, that would go off at midnight. Of how we were to escape before then. Of how we had to hold them off until midnight, and then get to Spawn by any means necessary (in our case on the flagship of the Gaian airship fleet, the "Celestial Potato"). He also mentioned briefly the next stage of the plan, of sneaking into Overlord's citadel and "decapitating his head" as a division of Noobian soldiers under Void's command had described it. However, Rage insisted that they were going to interrogate him beforehand.
"Is everyone clear with the plan?" Rage asked avidly, quite pleased with his inspirational run-down that everyone forgot within 30 minutes.
"YES!" Yelled Mini enthusiastically. "I'm gonna run straight into that fortress and decapitate his head myself as we throw redstone bombs at his fortress and crash airships into spawn!"
Rage promptly face-palmed, the slapping noise sounding similar to that of slapping someone with a fish. "Someone fill him in for me will you?"
Bokane responded. "Don't worry, I'll explain it to him, one way or another."
There was a rumbling noise, dust trickled down from the stone ceiling and the lights flickered out for a full 10 seconds before suddenly relighting themselves.
"Holy banana in a black-box!" Yelled Bokane, using his traditional obscenities. "What was that?!!"
"We're all sort of wondering Bokane." Responded Small. "Although, think about it, it what does our foe excell with?"
Bokane stared at him blankly before inquiring. "Stealing Fedwins?"
"Close, but not quite. Just think back to the Forum. What did he use so effectively then?" Prompted Small.
"Um..." Replied Bokane, straining himself under the sudden pressure. "Badass looking masks?!!"
Small smacked him, scowling. "Long range missiles you half-witted genius. You may be an amazing mage, and know redstone better than any of us but damn your brain is easily addled. Get your head in gear mate!"
"Okay..." Responded Bokane, doing breathing excercises. "Okay... focused! who are you?" He then asked Small.
Mini, who had been listening to the whole thing had had enough and tackled Bokane. As the two proceeded to brawl Rage looked at me and said, chuckling. "You're in for one hell of a long night."
3 hours later...
"RETREAT!" came the cry of Secret over the gunshots, the exploding shells, the sounds of clashing metal and the cries of the dieing, as he led the boar-riders back down the rubble-strewn street to our right, being followed by a hail of arrows. My men were watching as riders and infantry-men alike retreated towards the Celestial Potato, which was docked on the other side of the city. Secret turned from the crowd, coming into our small plaza, which was just holding out against the waves of enemies pressing against the barricade. I slit the throat of a man who was trying to climb a metal ladder over the barricade and proceeded to kick the ladder away from the wall. The man toppled from the ladder, spilling blood like red wine from a fallen glass, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. the ladder landed just to his right, crushing an eager comrade of his who had begun to climb the 3 metre ladder after him.
I turned to see Secret riding into the centre of the plaza alone, armour bloodied and chipped, looking defeated. I hopped down from the barricade and walked up to him. "We can't hold them off. We need to retreat now. They've shattered our ranks with the cannons and the elite troops'll be down here soon." Said Secret, panting with exhaustion.
"We can take some pathetic "elite troops". At the best of time they match the average order member. But usually they're just heavily kitted idiots with no fighting prowess. Why should we abandon our position now?" I enquired, angered by his defeatist attitude.
"Its her. The twisted Gaian, or, Falcon as her men call her. Her elite soldiers were slaughtering us. Each fights with the skill of Komplex. We could barely get near them; let alone kill them. The only casualties they sustained were a few minor bullet and arrow wounds. We're going to try and regroup with the others at the CP."
This was a new piece of information entirely. "Burn the barrier!" I cried. "Retreat while we still can!"
Within three minutes the barrier was ablaze and we were all running full-pelt towards the airship docks. The three civilian transport waves were long gone, all that was left was for us to give the redstone bomb time to go off. I checked my pocket watch; 10 minutes to midnight, more than enough time to get clear of the explosion. We had a straight run to the docks too. "This is too easy..." I thought to myself. That's when life decided to even the odds a little.
On my left there was a tall apartment block. Five stories high, massive glass windows all around, heavily ornamented, however not quite well-built. We were about to pass underneath when a missile struck it about half-way up, causing the building to topple into the street we ran through. it crashed just feet in front of me, spraying dust and debris in my face. I looked around me, about 30 of us left, most were in panic, trying to force their way through some narrow gaps in the rubble. Under normal circumstances they could probably have pulled this off, however, Falcon had just arrived in the plaza and was advancing towards us. Many tried to fire upon our foes, but it was futile. The bullets and arrows would either simply dent or bounce off the diamond shells of the attackers.
I rallied all who would listen and ran down a side street. My company was that of Mini, looking even more battered than earlier; Linx, who brandished a musket fiercely; and Tejmin, who looked defeated. Also with us were Mateo, Raging and three generic soldier-types. "This way!" I yelled as we turned the corner to the left, seeing the fire that was spreading through the street in front of us.
We ran into a fork in the road; both ways forward blocked by overturned wagons and the roads littered with the bodies of both our people, and Overlord's. The buildings on all sides were tall, more intact than others nearby. "Its almost like this was intentional..." I thought to myself suspiciously, however I dismissed it as simply a smaller, luckier defence that had been abandoned by our men when Secret had sent out the call to retreat. I noticed that the wagon we needed moved (the left one) had no way under or around and couldn't be budged with our current manpower and delivered my orders. "Mini, boost Mateo and Raging up, they in turn will lift the rest up. Now, Generic soldier number Uno..."
"Actually my name is Carl si-" He began in a high-pitched nasally voice, adjusting his thick glasses as he did so; but I cut across him, not really giving a .
"Well your name is now GSNU. Your friends are now GSND and GSNT." I said, gesturing to each soldier in turn. The other two looked at each other quizzically before redirecting their attention to me, knowing that time was of the essence.
"GSNU, you and Linx will cover our route with your rifles, shoot anything that isn't Gaian or a pig. Pigs are cute. I guess Gaians are too but not in the pig cute way. No there's a distin-"
"Kay," Said Mini, a sullen look on his face as he was lifted under the armpits onto the wagon. "Shut up, you're rambling again. I'm not putting up with that when we've got 5 minutes before they leave without us and 9 before this place explodes. Lets get on with it."
"Okay, those were your orders. Follow them." I said, striding up to the wagon, but before I could be lifted an armour-clad figure jumped down in front of me from a rooftop and boxed me on the ear.
I toppled to the side, landing on my knees. I heard two gunshots and whipped around. Mateo and Raging were toppling from the wagon, blood spilling from their heads. The three Generic soldiers and Linx were surrounding my assailant, who was brandishing a perk in one hand and a cutlass in the other. Mini was nowhere to be seen. I pulled myself to my feet, feeling warm blood running from the corner of my mouth, head ringing from the force of the blow. "Brass knuckles... why do they always use brass ING knuckles?!!" I thought as I drew Amicus and my dagger, apoteer (Thaumic for "Potato Peeler").
First GSNT ran at the attacker, to be cut down by my attacker's sword. GSND ran around the side of the mysterious assailant, hacking at his shins with his sword. In response his opponent brought his sword down on GSND's sword arm, cleaving the hand from the arm. Then he finished GSND by striking his unguarded temple, fracturing the bare skull. As GSND crumpled he heard the clicking of bullets loading in the other two's rifles. Linx fired first, his shot just missing the assailant's left ear as he veered to the right. GSNU then fired, but before he could do so the blade had flown from the assailants hand, striking him in the throat. As he spluttered and coughed up blood the assailant ran up behind him, withdrew his sword, and used him as a shield to block Linx's second shot. The assailant then fired at Linx, who dodged left but tripped and landed in some boxes.
As the assailant stood over him, readying to stab with the sword , I decided to act. I brought amicus down hard on his perk arm, not chopping off his hand, but leaving a bloody gash where his forearm meets his elbow, and forcing him to drop the perk. He staggered and I prepared to stab with my dagger. However, he recovered faster than I could have predicted and blocked the dagger with the flat of his sword. He then punched me in the gut with his free hand, winding me; proceeding to swing his sword at my head. He would have shattered my helmet and brained me had Linx not grabbed his arms at the last minute, grappling with him. The assailant then broke free of his grip and hit him with the pommel of his sword, knocking him to the ground in a daze.
Before I could respond the sword was knocked from my hand, skittering across the cobbled stone, and I myself was pinned against the wall, suffocating as an arm crushed my throat. As I fought for breath I got a good look at him for the first time. His face was wide and egg-shaped, with deathly pale skin. His eyes were red and blood-shot, his pupils soulless pits. His night-black hair was wild and unruly. He looked already like a corpse, but what sealed the deal were the many open wounds on his face. They littered his face, from simple cuts across his face to the great jagged gashes across his forehead and neck. They had stopped bleeding, but still seemed open, like gaping crevasses into an endless black abyss. He looked so alien but yet, I knew him.
"You're a C-Companion!" I stammered, lack of oxygen getting to me. At this he loosened his grip a little, allowing me to breath momentarily. "You were there when Tass died, you were on the bridge. I saw you fall into the crevice. Are you a ghost?"
"No," He breathed in an ominous tone, matching his husky voice. "I'm worse. I'm the Unknown Warrior. You left me for dead..."
"I thought you were, we thought everyone was." I spluttered as his grip tightened. "We couldn't exactly check, the way back was sealed. We had no choice about that either."
"Silence you fool. I do not want talk. I want the revenge promised to me by Falcon. She found me, on my last breath, she offered me a choice, serve her and gain revenge, or die there and then. Now she has delivered, after weeks of having me watch you, learning your techniques. Learning the routes you use. Now, goodbye." He boasted, dropping his sword and pulling out a small curved blade.
I struggled as he pressed further on my throat and slowly moving his blade towards my good eye. He would have gouged it out there and then had Mini not intervened. Out of nowhere he came, swinging his mace at the head of Unknown. As it caved in Unknown's skull, Unknown turned to dust, his armour flying in the direction of the blow. I stared at the panting Mini in awe. I quickly blinked myself back to my senses. I then said proudly to Mini. "Not bad for a first kill. You've been paying attention."
"Thanks." Panted Mini. "Lets go shall we, we've got three minutes."
And so we pulled Linx to his feet, got mini the trophy of Unknown's sword, hopped the wagon and ran. The buildings around us shattered as the shells came down. All around us Gaian stragglers and Golems clashed desperately with the attackers, hope of leaving fleeing from their eyes. Then, just as the time to leave passed, the pit that was the dock came into site. The great woollen balloons of the Celestial Potato rose from the pit like a Phoenix from ashes.
"We can still make it!" I yelled frantically. "Once we see the hull we're screwed!"
"Of course!" Cried Linx sarcastically. "How could I forget!"
We reached the edge of the dock and leapt, flying across the gap like Eagles, swooping down on their prey. Then came the inevitable rattling crashes of our armour on the polished wooden floor. We lay in a pile on the deck, groaning in pain. The troops around us stared in disbelief at our sudden, but rather feeble appearance. Mini broke the tension by spreading his arms and saying "Ta-da" in a pained voice, causing the men around us to burst into laughter. They came and helped to our feet as Secret approached, dressed in a naval officer's outfit that he had borrowed from Cossack, and clasping an old brass telescope in his left hand.
"Avast me hear-" Secret began in his best pirate impression but was cut across by Linx.
"Don't do it! If you do a bloody pirate impression I will ram that telescope up your ass Secret!" He shouted angrily.
Secret chuckled. "Sorry my friend. Lets watch the fireworks shall we, we're just out of range."
And so we turned to face Gaia's Kingdom. All that we had worked so hard to achieve was embodied in that city. The freeing of the Testificate slaves; the technological masterpieces; the movements for Noobian rights. All of it was about to disappear in one big puff of smoke.
"Who brought the popcorn?" I asked, entranced by the burning city, underneath its cloak of night. The Sea of black that made up Overlord's army surrounded it, thrashing like a caged animal. Then, there was a flash of white and I was blown back a few steps. Then my eyesight cleared, and I saw the mushroom spire of smoke, flecked with patches of bright orange. There was a crater stretching the entire breadth of the city, and fire had spread over a vast area around the city.
The men started to applaud our success. "How narrow-sighted they are." I thought, starting to clap politely. "They celebrate victory at the destruction of their homes. But what is more tragic, the fact that their homes are destroyed? Or is it their blissful ignorance of it? Perhaps it would be better if they were saddened..." I looked around, no other man seemed to experience my grief. I felt a tear run down my face, as I smiled hollowly for my men.
And now we return to the traditional parts format.
Part 2:A Fine Plan
I looked slowly around the dimly lit stone bunker. The proper lighting system was on the Fritz so we had resorted to loosely ramming redstone torches in to keep the lamps lit; as a result the lights constantly flickering. We were seated around a heavily adorned spruce table; in richly fashioned oak armchairs, lined with the softest wool upholstery. Around the table were the leaders of each group, alone and unarmed. The atmosphere was tense. Just about everyone here hated someone around the table, or at least felt threatened by someone. In fact the only one who didn't look nervous was Scrumping Pup, leader of the Iron-worshipping Pirate-Librarians of Woobly.
He sat with his feet on the table; with a small piece of wheat in his mouth, chewing it occasionally. His body language was lax and his eyes exuded calm. He was by far the most disconcerting of everyone at the table. In their time in the Craft Woobly had gathered more intelligence, more strategy, and more dirty secrets than any other group on the server. They were the model of the Order and the envy of the Brotherhood. Scrumping knew everything about us and just how to use it against us. He (whilst very polite) was truly terrifying.
I may as well address just who was there from Scrumping clockwise. First there was Wolves Glare, who whilst making pleasant conversation with Scrumping, was nervously eyeing the Arcation and Brotherhood leaders, occasionally shooting glances at me. Then there was Ryan, who looked quite disturbed by the whole situation. He had never much been a fighter; that was Epsilon and Viking's job. He would have happily let Viking run this through, but Viking had been called to meet with the main force near Aegis to sort out some disorder.
Then there was Piethingey, looking much out of his depth. He was at most used to speaking to me, Walt or Key, here he was stuck in a room with the fat-cats, and he felt like a mouse. Then there was Key, who sported many scars from the battle of 8 hours earlier. From him there was Gogyst, who was staring daggers into Tauto, who really didn't seem to care.
After Gogyst came Boston, of Concordis. Then, there was Ozzy, leader of the newly founded Elite. The day after Overlord delivered his ultimatum, the Golem and Falcon went to La Selva. The battle had been fought hard and Falcon had sustained heavy casualties, but inevitably La Selva had been defeated, the entire forest burnt to the ground, and the people slaughtered. Ozzy and much of La Selva's elite security task force had been drawn away from their city during a distraction raid. When they had returned they found nothing but ashes. The group "Elite" had been formed in order to avenge La Selva, by killing Falcon via any means necessary.
Then came Viral, representative for Calais since Starletts was M.I.A. from the battle of the Forum, assumed to be held hostage with the Moderators and other captives. Next there was myself, looking devilishly handsome if I must say. Then Walt, of Waltco, who had travelled with us on the Celestial Potato, Walthampton having been destroyed by the same bomb we used. Then there was General Ruary the 2nd of Legion. For a second we made eye contact but then both looked away, both seeing something unsettling in the other. Ruary disturbed by the raids I had conducted after the Requiem Conspiracy fell apart. I, frightened by what I had become during those raids, a simple murderer. For a brief moment, I had been no better than the Brotherhood, those I professed to hate for that very reason. Yet we both saw something of ourselves in the other, similar stories (both reviving once great peoples who had fallen from grace), similar backgrounds (both of us had served in the Great Onslaught).
Then, there was Tauto Chrone. His bronzed skin and jet black hair glistening with sweat from the humid bunker. He was dressed in full Brotherhood armour, minus his glove. Across his bronzed face were the basic war paints of the Brotherhood, simple blue and red lines across the cheekbones. Once he was about to go into battle he would paint the rest of the face black. This symbolised Tubby's goal when he had arrived here, to overcome to Blue and Red factions, releasing the Barbarians into the lands, spreading chaos. Then there was Steal, but he had nothing noteworthy to be said about him that had not been said in another part so we'll act like he's not here unless he said something.
Ryan did a 5 minute-long register, confirming exactly what I just did in my head in 15 seconds. "God he loves procedure." I thought to myself in a bored manner. "I mean, he's a nice guy but he isn't cut out for this sort of stuff. Where's Viking or Epsilon, or even Yamada when you need them?
Then he spoke. "Hello my friends. I'm sorry that took so long. Old (bureaucratic) habits die hard I guess." He laughed nervously. A few people smiled politely but many continued to stare drolly at him. "So anyway, the plan. We will have 3 teams of 10. 3 man squads from 3 groups, and a Woobly guide for each. The first team will consist of Arcation, Vangaard, and Blue Alliance. Guided by... some Hobo named Chris. They will go to open the main gate to Aegis for our forces." There was a series of appreciative nods, glances, and even a few handshakes. "Now, team two. You will for the first part of the mission be travelling with team 3. Your job will be to go with Team 3 to free the hostages. You will then diverge from the group and lead the hostages out safely. You will consist of GoC, Elite, and Waltco, and will be guided by Scrumping Pup." This group choice was slightly less agreeable but still went down pretty well. "Now, the final group will head onwards from the prison to find and disarm the weapon. The weapon in question, is small but highly dangerous long-range artillery piece. There are only four shots in it, each with a mod staff powering it. Each shot will only explode at a specific distance. The four shots together will reduce the Great Gate to an obnoxious pile of rubble. The Team who will perform this crucial Task are, The Kingdom of Gaia..." I allowed myself a proud smirk. "Legion..." I felt my smile fade slightly at the thought of being near people I had wronged so dearly. "And... Le sigh... The Brotherhood. Guided by Kofi" At this there was outcry.
Tauto, Ruary and I were all on our feet complaining to Ryan as he walked out the door. We followed him down the corridor to the lift and let loose as he waited.
"What are you smoking?" Cried Tauto.
"Much agreed Tauto." I added.
"Why are you putting me on a dangerous job with these two madmen?!!" Asked Ruary frantically.
"This man is a criminal, a thief, a griefer, a simple terrorist." Said Tauto, gesturing to me.
"He, is a despicable excuse for a human being who attempted to conquer half the server. He cannot be trusted to fulfil this task." I retorted angrily.
"They're both insane!!" Shouted Ruary.
"This man is a wuss!" Remarked Tauto, gesturing to Ruary.
"Hey, you're the ones who pillaged my cities." Responded Ruary in anger.
"You make me feel bad about myself." I said sadly, pointing at Ruary.
There was an awkward pause. "Retards..." Grunted Tauto, crossing his arms, looking away from us.
"Wanna say that to my face weather-boy." I spat venomously.
"I could take you any day of the year you festering piece of Thaumic filth. Its about time someone did the Inquisition's job for them."
Boiling rage filled my body like molten rock beneath the crust. I lashed out, striking him on the jaw, felling him. I had chosen the wrong moment. The elevator opened, revealing Komplex, Ubi, Bottany, Dark Eagle, Beat and Jolly who all entered, weapon clad and ready for action. However, at the same time Insert, Aaron, Linx, Secret, Mini, Bokane, Walt and Key had just entered from the other elevator, also belaboured with weapons. Within seconds weapons were drawn and the two groups were ready to clash, shouting war-cries. Then, just as the first blades clanged, Ryan snapped.
"SILENCE ALL OF YOU!" He cried, voice becoming strangely deep, raising his staff in their direction of the crowd, lifting us all from our feet and slamming us into the walls, suspending us in the air, pinned against the wall by intangible and invisible forces. Ryan vanished in a puff of purple smoke, before three of him appeared simultaneously in front of me, Tauto and Ruary.
"You are grouped together because Void, Epsilon and I thought you could triumph together. That is the only reason I will give and the only one I should need. As for the Gaians and Brotherhood, you are not to fight until this is over. Do I make myself clear." Everyone nodded, plainly terrified. "Good. I release you." Ryan disappeared again, re-materialising in the still open elevator. "Goodnight everybody. Get some shut-eye before the attack tomorrow." He said cheerfully as the doors closed in front of him.
"Crazy that one is." Remarked Komplex, indignant at having been so easily immobilised.
"I know." I said in a bemused tone, staring at the closed door. "That's why I like him."
Part 3: The Reckoning of Overlord
We stumbled through the bodies and ashes of the fallen guards towards the throng in the centre. Gun-smoke hung thick in the musty air, causing many to cough uncontrollably. There were 19 of us still standing, with Team 3 scattered across the old salt mine, searching for additional hostages, surviving guards, and setting up our diversion.
It had been a swift battle, even though they outnumbered us four to one. Bokane had given us some strange balls of black fire, plucked straight from Astro's notes. Once tossed the balls would explode on contact, having a blast radius of at least 2 metres. We'd tossed them into the groups of guards scattered throughout the room, avoiding the hostages as much as possible. We struck down the survivors as efficiently as possible with bows, perks, rocks and our one rifle.
It was by all means a clean victory. We'd killed all of the guards with no real opposition, only one hostage was harmed (and in a small way at that), and we'd only sustained one casualty (and while that was a death, he'd reform within 8 hours anyway). However, the deaths of the guards had somehow been, unceremonious, to say the least. One minute they were there, forcing men to mine that bitterest of seasoning, next they were burning and screaming horrifically. I knew I should have gotten used to this aspect of warfare by now. Just killing without remorse. I wasn't in His army any more; you would have thought that after ten years I'd have gotten used to that.
As we walked towards the crowd of (recently liberated) hostages being organised for roll call before team 3 left, we noticed that there was some sort of commotion. Some old, dirty looking, bearded figure was struggling with Insert to get away from the crowd. "You have to listen to me you lumbering oaf! I have information that'll save all of your lives! Who is your commanding officer! Answer me damn you!"
"Calm it old man you've just been through a lot in these past few weeks. Just si-" Began Insert
"OLD MAN?!! I'm 31 you cocky little ! Out of my way and tell me who your commanding officer is!" He yelled, shunting Insert out of his path.
Insert prepared to batter him with his shield as I interjected. "Not now Insert. Hello my dirty-looking acquaintance, I'm Insert's . What do you need?"
Insert went and moped in the corner, muttering something about "Never getting to brutalise random bystanders."
"I'm no dirty looking acquaintance!" cried the dirty man. "I'm Ray Tunes!"
I was so shocked that I couldn't even stop my jaw hanging open. "B-but, you're dead..." I responded stupidly. I could deny it all I wanted, but beyond the grime and thick beard it most certainly was Ray.
"I know I'm supposed to be but I can explain. Some ass-holes mugged me after the Realm was sacked. These were Williams, Falcon, and the mastermind, Overlord, my old mate Starletts. They then stripped me down and gave my clothes to some bloke who looked similar to me. Since then I've been trapped in here, gathering as much information as I could, knowing that I could use it to escape or help the rescue effort."
"Hang on a second..." I responded even stupider still. "Starletts is Overlord?"
"Yes." Ray responded quizzically. "I find it amazing that no one has figured it out yet, especially someone who has found out as much as you in the last few weeks.
"Okay then." Said Tauto, who looked smug as he appeared by my side, making me jump. He looked strange without his old war mask, which was basically his face with full face paints made of metal. I wondered where it was for a moment, then remembered it was now hanging proudly in the captain's quarters aboard the Celestial Potato. "Tell us what you know Ray. Before we send you back with the others. We're down a man and only know what Kofi's had us memorise and we need anything you know."
"Well, I know that the route I assume you're going to take, straight into the hanger where they have been shooting both people and daily updates, all entrances into which is heavily guarded and locked. I can confirm that the weapon is in there, but your intended route is very flawed. First you need to go to the security room, something Woobly greatly overlooked in their recent visits." He noticed my own and Tauto's gob-smacked expressions at the superiority of his intelligence to ours. "What? I was given a tour of the base by Starletts and his entourage in an attempt to convince me to join them. I have a photographic memory. Plus, when you know the Woobs like I do it really isn't that hard to know when they're around and when they're not. Anyway we need to go there and open the hanger doors if you're serious about disarming that thing. Although I do have an alternative you probably are unaware of."
"One thing." Tauto inquired, acting on my own confusion as much as his own. "Why do you refer to it as the "hanger"?"
"Because it used to be a secret airship hanger. As a result there is a blast door type device that is directly controlled from the security room. There is no way of opening it once the security command is put in. Heck, you could lock down the entire castle from there. But, anyway, "Starlord" as I've come to call him, will be unable to fire his artillery piece as long as that door is shut."
"Well what are we waiting for? Lets go!" Began Ruary, who had appeared behind us, taking us both off guard.
"Apparently for them to leave." Said Ray, nodding towards Team 2 and the former hostages.
"Hey Viral, Walt, Ozzy and Scrump." They paused and looked to me as I called to them. "We're gonna go kick Starletts' ass. Btw, did any of you know he was Overlord?"
Everyone gasped, and then wished us luck and team 3 set out. Our number was 10 counting Ray. From the Gaians, there were myself, Aaron, and Insert. Insert was our finest fighter, only matched by Secret and Aaron. He fought with grace and dexterity that was unheard of from the Hoplites of the East. He had a fierce rivalry with Vacar and Shadows, with whom he frequently duelled. This short weedy Asian man of 21 years had deceived and kicked the out of innumerable people who had questioned his ability. He, like many of the Gaians was both an ex-fugitive and officer from the Great Onslaught. And, unlike almost all of the others, he had fought on the side of the Endlings and Thaumic peoples. However, despite our political differences we got on well. He was a great listener when he wanted to be, despite a huge ego in public, and a wise consul; whom I frequently consulted.
Of the Brotherhood there was Tauto Chrone's Brother St. Jay of the church of the Try Hard Pants, otherwise known as Jolly, or "Jolly Saint Jay". Also there were Tauto Chrone himself and Ubi. Of Legion were General Ruary, his ex-commander, Lieutenant Palmer and Broken Appliance. We would have been a solid team, if it weren't for our histories.
I believe I've commented enough on the Brotherhood-Gaian conflict but I haven't yet fully explained the Legion problem. The night of the Requiem conspiracy everything had fallen apart. Gerrit had been arrested and FCC exiled and everyone else panicked and bailed. I was waiting outside Brotherhood HQ with 15 men or so for eight hours in the rain. My men's morale was low, we had no hope of confronting the Brotherhood with our current force. We had to find somewhere to go. We stumbled for 8 more hours and we arrived at Legion. We craved for battle, and food. So we attacked. The raid was brutal, 30 Legionnaires were dead by the end. Fires had broken out all over the city; crops were trampled and burned; civilians lay dead in the dirt with their slaughtered livestock. It was by far the most tragic raid to ever occur in Legion.
In the middle of the attack, I, overcome by my own anger at the tragedies of the last few days, ran into the housing estates. I kicked down the door of the first house I came to and slaughtered the three men inside. The house caught fire during the slaughter and as I was about to slay the last of them, I saw it. I saw in the fiery silhouette reflected in his eyes, that I had gone too far. I was just as bad as those who had wronged me those long years ago. I lost my nerve and ran, taking my men with me. Insert, who had been present, had never let me live it down.
But anyway, back to what's happening in the Aegis castle. We ran past a window facing the Scaen gates of Aegis, seeing the explosions going off across the cityscape and fights going off across the walls. Great siege towers made of wood and iron, sometimes even obsidian constantly advanced towards the walls, arrows and rifles raining hell on the defenders from the platforms on top. Every here and there one of the towers would be struck by a shell from one of the cannons along the wall and topple to the ground in flames.
Then, without warning there was a bright white flash from the centre of the gates. Even from the massive distance we were at we were forced to take a few steps back due to the sheer force of the explosion. I blinked away the spots to see the gates beginning to crumble. I remembered my brief time living here while the Winged Federation was ruling the Barbarian zones. I had always thought that those gates would never fall, even at the hands of Notch himself. I was always incredulous at the very idea that someone could have infiltrated such an impenetrable city. Much less the laid back goof-balls that made up Woobly. Now, here the gate was, a pile of dust before my eyes, with our men flooding in to confront Overlord's army.
We took a moment to enjoy the view, Ruary honouring the sight with a ceremonial salute. The moment of calm however, was broken by a cry of, "Who the hell are you?" from an "honour guard" who had just shown up. He was not alone either, there were five other members of Overlord's Honour Guard, all armed with iron armour, clasping spear's who's points shimmered with magical energy. That was not all, they were accompanied by two of Falcon's personal "Storm troopers" as they were referred to as in the daily addresses. Both were dressed in the finest diamond, holding massive double-bladed axes. To top it all off there was a Golem. Not Antioch, but developed from him. It was of inferior quality and intelligence to Antioch, but it was still a force to be reckoned with.
I gestured to Aaron to run around the back and deal with the hack through the Golem's legs, and for Insert to deal with the Storm Trooper on the right. I was to draw the attention of the rest. However, as we commenced our plan, The Brotherhood commenced there's, as did the Legionnaires and Ray sort of commenced his own plan. The brotherhood plan was for Tauto to rush the Storm Trooper on the left; Jolly was to confront the Golem; and Ubi was to do much the same as I was. Legion locked their great, zigzagging shields into a straight line and marched towards the crowd, swords poking through the gaps in between. As they got nearer their line was to slowly began curving, hopefully trapping and killing the guards as they got nearer. Ray ran up to the Golem and threw a rock at it, which promptly bounced of and hit him in the head, causing him to stumble aimlessly through the battlefield in a cartoon-like manner.
I, seeing what the Legionnaires were trying to do ran around the right side and began pushing them back towards the lines of the Legionnaires, as did Ubi from the left. I rushed into their lines, cutting down the first man I saw, causing them to back up slightly. However, they slowly began to advance and as I lashed out to block the incoming blows I was forced to give ground. Ubi, seeing my need, unhooked his chakrams and rushed to my aid, swinging the deadly ring wildly at the attackers. Slowly but surely, like shepherds herding sheep, we forced them back towards the lines of the Legionnaires, where they were promptly cut down.
I looked behind me, Tauto and Insert were using a similar tactic to myself and Ubi, herding them together before felling them like trees. The Golem fight however, was truly something to behold.
Aaron rushed at the Golem, ducking under its great square fist as it swung at him. Aaron then swung his sword at the Golem's left leg, cleaving open the metal shell, forcing it down to its knees. The soulless black eyes of the Golem would have been writhing in pain were this any other creature. Aaron began to swing his mighty blade at the Golem's neck, but before he could cut down the creature, he was struck in the side by a great iron fist, knocking him to the floor. He lay in a daze and looked up to see the Golem hunched over him, preparing to crush his skull with one fell swoop. However, before any of us could act, the Golem made a sound similar to that of a crying in pain. A fiery rope had formed around its neck and was cutting deeply into it as its holder pulled it backwards. It was Jolly.
He had lashed out with his whip of flames and caught the Golem around the neck, pulling it back from its pray; struggling and lashing out at its prey like a dog on a leash, forbidden to sniff/lick what it was so enthralled with a moment before due to its owner's tight schedule. Then, as an oak falls in the forest at the hands of a lumberjack, so did the Golem. Jolly pulled his whip back and struck the Golem, leaving a gash across the face. He struck the golem again and again until suddenly, as Jolly was to deliver the final blow, the Golem grabbed the rope. Its square fist shot into the sky and held it with a vice-like grip.
Jolly was pulled in as he struggled to free his whip from the fingers of the great creature. Before St. Jay knew what was happening, he was on his front, just before the wounded beast. The great iron fist rose in the air above Jolly, who was too petrified to even blink. The fist stopped mere inches above Jolly's head. The Golem had stopped moving entirely, a blade protruding from the Golem's chest.
Aaron retracted his sword and the Golem fell safely to the side, still locked in its position, like a statue. "That was tense." He panted, grinning as he wiped sweat from his bruised brow. "You know Jolly. We should do this more often. Saving your ass is great exercise."
Jolly laughed and retorted. "Yeah, I guess you're not totally worthless for a piece of Gaian scum." Normally we would have taken this as an insult or mockery. However, there was little of the usual Brotherhood Gaian malice.
"Come on people, we did well but we have to move." Shouted Ray needlessly loudly at the wall. "That weapon is going to go off in 20 minutes!" I wondered how he knew what time we had left. No one had told him from the team and the Woobs had gone through hell and back to get the exact launch time.
"Um... Ray." Said Ruary uncomfortably. "That's a wall."
"Oh," replied Ray, clearly embarrassed. "So I am." He turned to face us and blinked a little bit. "Ah-ha! Much better! That a'way!"
And so we ran through the empty corridors of the fortress, the sounds of battle growing ever closer. At last we arrived at the great oak doors to the security room. We prepared for the worst and kicked open the doors, weapons ready. However, we were great by an empty, dark room.
It was a large dining hall. I remembered it from my time here only by the great dining table and high ceiling. Everything else was indistinguishable. Where there were once paintings, along the walls on the left and right there were 16 great silhouettes of metal compartments just as big as a Golem. Once the ceiling had been adorned with artwork and a great skylight. Now, there were metal walkways and the sklight was cracked, illuminating the length of the table with a fractured path of moonlight. At the far end there was a spinning armchair with its back facing us. At the end of the room there was a panel of weird flashing lights and similar "monitors" to those that we found in the vault. To the right was a strange cylindrical chamber made of metal.
Ray ran up to the panel, hardly able to contain himself. The rest of us followed him warily. I found Ray's reaction odd, like a child having trouble to get to the punchline of a joke because they found it so funny. Just as Ray pressed the first button the doors slammed shut. Broken ran and tried to pull them open but found them to be locked.
"Seriously?" Inquired Tauto indignantly. "Have we set up some sort of flipping trend? When did everyone get perks?!!"
"Aw... But Palmer..." Said Ray mockingly, acting like a small child complaining about being called inside to do homework. "The party hasn't even started yet. The special guy just arrived." He gestured to the armchair.
Palmer advanced towards the armchair slowly, keeping the perk pointed at it at all time. "Come on! Up with you!" He shouted as threateningly as possible. There was no response.
"You! The ****-wad in the armchair. I'd like a word." There was no response other than a borderline insane laughing from the armchair.
"Hello?" Inquired Palmer, edging ever closer. The laughing continued.
"Your out of your depth. Your a relic, a parasite of a bygone age. My Brothers died to stop you and your "United governments". Yet you live... I hope to change that today." Came the voice of the man in the chair. His mocking laughter had turned to words of ice and venom.
"Don't try and intimidate me you sad little man. I come to avenge them today. You die today brother. You die today Complex 14 you scum!" Palmer had a mad look in his eyes. I wanted to intervene but my curiosity
"So, 11, its you... I mistook you for the other one. Your imbecile commander." Replied Complex 14.
"Hey..." Said Ruary indignantly. Broken, Aaron, Ubi, Insert and Jolly all chuckled a little but were quickly shushed down by myself and Tauto, both enthralled in the disucssion.
"No 14 it is I. And now, your end is nigh. Then your mate at the panel will die." He gestured to Ray, who was still standing motionless by the control panel, looking most please with himself. He knew so many things we didn't. It really ed me off.
Palmer grabbed the chair and span it around. Just as his target's hands came into view from behind Palmer's hulking frame there was a crackling noise, a flash, and Palmer collapsed onto his lap. There he was, the Overlord, Complex 14, Starletts. Still wearing his mask it was unable to discern whether Ray had told us the slightest bit of Truth. Over-Star-14 brushed Palmer off of his lap with his gauntlet, which was smoking from the recent blast.
"A pity, he was always the best battlefield tactician out of us. Lets see. Who's left." He pulled out a list with numbers up to 16 and then the names Williams and Falcon loosely scribbled on the bottom. "There were 12 of us alive after "16" betrayed the Realm, 14 including you Ray and that lovely young girl of yours. Its a pity what happened to her. Then, "1" and "6" went soft. They were dealt with. Then "4" and "5" sacrificed themselves in the effort to destroy the United governments and Council of Lords. We succeeded. "11" then left us and "2" succumbed to his illness, poor Viral." He paused for a second, evidently contemplating loss of a friend. Ray's eyebrow had been furrowed since the mention of the girl. I personally came close to ting myself at the discovering of Viral, "mad ol' Viral's" possible involvement.
"Then "10" was sentenced to banishment and fled." He continued." He waits with Dominus' army currently. Then the War happened. Then "15" betrayed us. Then the "Family" was disbanded until further notice. Then I sent "8" to infiltrate the Brotherhood. Then not much happened. Then Ray formed Tea, then a lot of stuff happened. Then there was the Battle of the Nether Hub, when we discovered that "3" was still alive. Then One-Eye over there became a king, we gave "3" his order's and he's been informing us ever since. Now, please calm down everyone, you look most tense."
"Give me one reason why we shouldn't cut you down now." I said coldly, brandishing Amicus fiercely. "Also, I resent being referred to as "One-Eye"."
"Well, Ray. Show them." Said Overlord. And Ray showed us.
He pressed a button on the panel and the lights snapped on. All over the walkways above us were men with bows and javelins. From between the compartment came men in the Dozens until we were completely surrounded. They were predominantly Honour Guards but there were a number of Storm Troopers in the crowd too. At the door was Antioch, blocking the only conceivable exit. I turned to face Ray.
"How could you do this traitor?"
"Oh please. No need for formalities." He said playfully. "Call me Williams."
"Needless plot twist much?" Asked Ruary. "I mean seriously. Isn't it enough that he betrayed us? The writer was obviously very bored when he wrote this."
"What writer?" Asked Jolly nervously.
"I dunno, he was just making up crap for me to say because he feels I haven't had enough lines this series to make me constitute anything other than a glorified cameo. Plus its fun to screw with the reader's minds" Replied Ruary sadly, hanging his head.
Part 4:A Tale of Two Lords & The Family In the Shadows
"WAIT!" Shouted Ray. The archer bowstrings slackened, and the soldiers around us lowered their weapons. "What on Earth?" I thought.
"Huh?" Asked Starletts spinning his chair to face Ray.
"May I do the honours cupcake?" Said Ray, putting emphasis on the last word. Something was off, Antioch's eyes flickered for a moment and a number of men in the crowd exchanged looks of satisfaction. There was something familiar about the men's complexions and garbs that was familiar. The skin tone was a similar pale to my own, and they wore tattoos that, whilst near indistinguishable from this distance were somehow familiar.
"Yes but never call me cupcake again." Replied Starletts, blissfully unaware of the exchange that had just occurred. "Might I first congratulate you on a job well done though. You now how my complete trust. I will help you deal with the Falcon."
"Thank you." Ray said grimly. "Too bad that I cannot allow either of you to triumph this day. Falcon will not escape to fulfil her aim of resurrection. Nor will you make your bid to ascend."
"Hang on. I thought you simply aimed to destroy the walls?" Inquired Tauto, sounding almost a bewildered as I felt.
"First of all, the weapon is a decoy, the walls will not fall because of it." Starletts began casually, but become increasingly more malicious as he went on. "The walls will fall because I will tear them down myself. You see, when a moderator dies they do not go on to one of the after-lives. No, they become a spirit, a being similar to a ghost, but real and less creepy. Depending on whether or not they remained pure they may either remain bound to their own coffin or regain semi-physical form and eternal youth to serve in the True Court, guarding the Divines until the end of time.
"We have created a weapon that can absorb the essence of the moderator, killing them with no possible chance of a spirit forming. The essence can then be stripped down to raw energy, and be used as a near infinite power-source for say, my gauntlet, or an armour suit based upon my gauntlet. Redstone energy can only go so far you know. Power it with the essence of a moderator and you'd become one whilst in the suit. Imagine a suit powered with the strength of two, maybe even six moderators. You'd have the power to rival one of the Divines. The best part is, I can also absorb a just regular people as well. Much more temporary but damn it looks fun. Make sure to leave the stand-in choir boy, the knock-off and Herobrine's errand boy."
We all gasped at the thought of Starletts in such a position. Then frowned because of his insults.
"Second of all." He turned to face Ray. "What did you say?"
"I said its time I stopped you. Dominus is supposed to be the one who claims the suit. You will take it for your own. I will gladly wear it if it means that Dominus receives his suit. As for Falcon, as long as you agree to stay out of the suit, we can work together on that front."
"You dare threaten me..." Starlett's tone was cold as ice and his tongue sharper than the sword at my side. His gauntlet transformed into a blade and he approached Ray, who had
Ray pulled out what could only be inferred as the weapon Starletts had spoken of just moments previously from the way he leapt back in fear. It was similar to the gauntlet Starletts wore. However, it was coated in strange Thaumic Runes. The ones for "Erasing", "Consuming" and "Death" were prevalent. That's when I realised who the men in cloaks were.
"Yes. I dare." Ray responded coldly and mechanically.
"Kill him Antioch! Kill him Now!" He shouted angrily, But Antioch did not respond. Starletts began to back up until he was among our crowd. "What's going on?!!" He cried frantically, dropping to his knees. His men moved to attack but he waved them down frantically, not taking his eyes off the gauntlet for a second.
"There-there. We're all just as confused as you. It'll all be fine." Said Aaron mockingly, patting him on the shoulder.
"So, what's this all about Ray?" Ruary boldly demanded, giving Ray a steely glare.
"Well, I''ve always had a certain fondness for you and your legionnaires, and . Therefore I will give you some of the story.
"I am Overlord. Not the terrorist/revolutionary leader; but the project leader from ten years ago. Operation Overlord is old news to all of you I know. 14 of us made it out of the wreckage of the facility alive, not including Fedwin. Fedwin escaped separately and was never inducted into the Family. Starletts has a special Complex, allowing him to be very susceptible to new information for the first 24 hours of receiving a dosage. He can be completely reprogrammed in that time window and until he either hears a trigger word from a trigger person he will not question what he's been told at all, then "turned on and off" as it suits my needs. Makes him the perfect puppet. Even believes the plans that he enacts were his ideas."
"So you've been controlling this "Family" of yours through Starletts this whole time. Trying to do what exactly? Assure Dominus' rule over the Craft? Perhaps more than the Craft... No. Dominus is pretty damn ambitious but he'd need undisputed control of at least seven of the ten major Crafts first." Responded Tauto, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "There is something crucial I'm missing here. What makes Falcon so dangerous?"
"She's a demon from another realm and that's where I'll leave it to protect the dignity of its victim."
"Thaumic I assume. It couldn't be one that latches on to its victim for years unnoticed, could it? One that only truly becomes active if the victim dies? But of course, that's preposterous." I remarked pointedly.
"Well I can tell you you're not far off the mark. How did you guess?" Asked Ray, bemused, lowering his gauntlet from Starletts head momentarily.
"Because of the Thaumic mercenaries you've quite blatantly placed in the crowd. By the looks of it, demon-hunters who specialise in the expulsion of creatures such as this."
"You always were too observant for your own good Kay. Now I'm afraid its your damning. Attack!" Cried Ray, running up to the cylindrical device. It slid open smoothly, revealing a bright light, just illuminating the outline of the suit.
Antioch and the Thaumic warriors sprang into action. Antioch began spraying the men on the walkways with bullets, felling them in the dozens. The Thaumics however, despite Antioch's brutality, had style on their side. All were armed with some form of staff, spraying lightning, fire and frost into the crowd of warriors around them.
We readied ourselves for this. First, Ubi knocked Starletts unconscious, slinging his limp form over his shoulder. Ruary took the Gauntlet from Starletts, brandishing it at any foe who dared come too close. Aaron, Jolly, Broken and Insert ran forwards to clear the way to the door. Tauto and I stayed near the rear with Ruary, covering our retreat.
I looked up at the cylinder momentarily, compressed air sprayed from the vents on the sides. Out of it slumped Ray, clad in white armour. He pulled himself up, armour whirring strangely as he did so. Atop his head was a strange circular helmet, with slits for eyes, both of which glowed blue. Strange blue lamps glowed all over his shining body, mainly around the joints, but the largest was right in the centre of the torso. It would pulse lightly, sending shimmering blue lines across the body with each one. He was the most strangely awe-inspiring yet terrifying sights I had seen since Notch and Herobrine's duel at Zinecraft. Not even Antioch could help but stare at his glorious form.
One poor sod was unlucky enough to find himself in a trance just in front of the cylinder. Ray walked slowly towards him. The man tried to back up but Ray predicted this. He jumped, the soles of his boots sprung outwards in such a way that he was sent into a somersault. He landed with a crash in the man's path, smashing the planks downwards, and leaving the imprints of his boots in the polished spruce surface. The man turned to run back to the cylinder, but was grabbed around the back of the skull.
None of us were ready for what happened next. The runes on the gauntlet glowed purple, and within seconds, the man's veins were glowing the same colour. Then the man's eyes and mouth started exuding purple shadows, a blood-curdling cry of both pain and horror coming from his throat. He began to thrash around frantically, like a marionette being controlled by a bad puppeteer with an exceptionally shaky hand. As this all happened, his skin turned pale, and he became thinner and thinner; to the point where he was more skeleton than man. At last, the man stopped thrashing, the spark of his life disappearing from his eyes as they rolled back into his skull.
Ray dropped the poor skeletal being to the floor where he crumbled to the dust. Normally this was a good sign, however the dust stayed where it was, no magic swirly tornado shape lifted some of the dust away, where it would reform. To add to this there was a sense of finality about the dust, more fragmented than dissolved. I stared at Ray as he stood still, who in turn was staring at his good work. Then my stupor was abruptly broken.
Ray turned and shouted. "Antioch, do not let them escape and warn the moderators! I'll clean up here!" The triumph in his voice was evident in the last sentence. He then rose four feet in the air and commenced raining hell upon both mercenary and soldier alike.
I turned tail and ran towards the door. Insert and Aaron were holding the door open, waiting for me to get there, Insert desperately fending off attackers with his spear. Antioch was heading straight for the door, and he would have beaten me there if Ruary hadn't thought fast and blasted him with the gauntlet. In Antioch's momentary dismay I managed to slide through the opening, just slipping through as my two comrades slammed it shut and put and sealed it with an iron bar.
We allowed ourselves a moments respite. Around us the guards were too busy rushing around the fortress or tending to the wounded to pay us any real attention other than a scowl or rude gesture. Thoughts were rapidly rushing through most of our heads. "...RAY IS OVERLORD?!!!" I was stuck there in my thinking, still dumbfounded.
"Someone needs to slap the writer for all of these irritating plot-twists! DAMN YOU ANONYMOUS HYPOTHETICAL SCRIBE! It had better not be you Apostle!" Cried Ruary, down on his knees shaking his fist at the sky.
"STOP BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL DAMMIT!" Shouted Ubi, whacking the stirring Starletts' head off the wall as he turned to respond.
"Well-" Ruary was cut across by a huge metal fist ramming through the door. We all jumped back a few steps.
"RUN!" Cried Insert, in what is possibly his first real line in this series before turning tail and running up the corridor.
We all followed him as closely as possible; as the door splintered open and Antioch came running after us, firing the occasional shot. "What do we do now?" I asked loudly, struggling to be heard over Antioch's advance.
"We need to warn Ryan about Ray, he and Viking'll be the main targets." Responded Ruary, his battlefield instincts kicking in. "Then we need to think about catching Falcon and the Complexes that are evidently on the loose, and preparing to act out Dominus' deadly machinations. But first we need to send the tin axe-murderer back to the land of Oz. Anyone feeling stupid?"
"Especially stupid." Said Aaron boldly. "And I've got a plan. You guys head on, I'll stop this mo-fo."
"B-but A-a-aaron..." I stammered, dumbfounded at his apparent death wish.
"Don't worry, I've ran through this scenario so many times. There's no way this can succeed without this happening." He said with complete confidence, to the point where I couldn't help but believe him. It was at moments like this that I wondered whether the rumours of him being and oracle were true.
We rounded a corner, sliding on the polished quartz floor. Aaron and I stopped for a few seconds, making eye contact. "Good luck." I said to Aaron. He simply smiled and nodded. We shook hands firmly and parted; Aaron Turning to face Antioch, who had just turned the corner.
Aaron grabbed the satchel of black fireballs from his side, holding his great-sword in the other hand. For thirty seconds he and Antioch glared at each other, then Antioch made the first move. Both hands morphed into guns and he began fire rapidly. Stone was reduced to mere flying chips in clouds of white and grey, great craters and gashes appear in the tiled floors and the metal gilded walls. The once beautiful tapestries and portraits were reduced to tattered rags in broken "frames" of of wood, if they could still be called frames. Occasionally a bullet would ricochet off a particularly hard surface or metal adornment; usually flying up into the ceiling and sending down a shower of splintered wood and sawdust.
Antioch fired until there was a cloud of gun-smoke and powdered stone and wood that was so great that you couldn't see through it. From the middle of the cloud there were a few vague sounds of struggling and spluttering, then silence. Antioch would have smirked had he lips, but in the lack of them morphed his hands back in fists and made a rude gesture at the cloud where Aaron lay. He was about to march through the cloud when there was a swift glint of blue and a sudden damage warning from his chest. He looked down to see the great-sword's hilt protruding from the left side of his chest. He staggered backwards momentarily, his coordination circuit starved of its main supply of power. He'd have to form a back-up path. It was only two minutes wasted but it was two minutes he'd rather have wasted poking the body of the Gaian with long stick, or drawing a frowny face in his ashes with one.
Then from the cloud came a lightning fast figure clasping a strange sack. Antioch, despite the lack of a coordination circuit swung out at him in a clumsy manner. The figure easily dodged underneath, and looking up pulled something out of the bag. At this point Antioch ran a scan of the figures face. "TARGET IDENTIFIED: Aaron; second name unknown. OCCUPATION: Businessman; Gaian lord; Military officer. RACE; Half breed between lesser divine and human. DESCENT: Illegitimate love-child of Lesser divine and Western human nobility. Raised by dwarves in Stoneholm. Later ventured to Zine Craft and became a respected clock-maker. During Great Onslaught served as military officer in the army of the True Court. Went to Vanilla Craft in the aftermath of the Onslaught with the wizard, Astro; the future Gaian king, Kay Mandy; Ranger and future Gaian general Secret Lol; esteemed artist and assassin Small Doughnut, along with a host of others. THREAT LEVEL: ranges from derp to deadly." Antioch couldn't help but wonder how in the name of Notch the ascended this was supposed to help him fight but just decided to roll with it.
Aaron, in the split second it took Antioch to register all this had tossed one of the small black fireballs in the Golem's iron face. The was a flash of black light and Antioch stumbled back from Aaron, a smouldering hole below his left eye socket. Aaron smirked as Antioch failed to weave the wound back together. "Not so invulnerable now are you. with a sword through your chest and half your face gone. I cannot believe Overlord stowed such faith in this glorified furnace. I'm disgusted by your sloppiness in proper combat. Prepare to taste my blade! Oh wait..." Aaron jeered, tone harsh and haughty.
Antioch, angered by Aaron's harsh words, extended one of his guns and fired five shots in quick succession. With the lack of a coordination unit it was all down to chance. All but one bullet missed. Aaron dodged the first four bullets with ease, but he did not see the fifth as he prepared he counter-attack. As Aaron lobbed the black fireball at Antioch's gun, he was struck in the centre of his chest by the bullet. Later Aaron described the sensation of being shot directly in chest by Antioch as: "Remember that huge ass metal shoe trap Astro used to -quite literally- kick Cossack out of the guild? Imagine the equivalent force of twelve of those dancing on your chest whilst coated in lava. Its not a very nice sensation."
Aaron struck the floor with a clatter, wind rushing out of his lungs. He lay on the floor gasping for breath, like a fish yanked from the water and left to die on the hull of some ship somewhere. There was no sensation of crumbling or ceasing of being and now he naturally assumed he would truly die. He prepared to let death's sweet embrace take him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he readied for eternal slumber. Then they snapped open as he realised he wasn't bleeding, was still breathing and was probably just being a wuss. He sat up and looked down, there was a large dent just over his heart where the bullet was still lodged. He pulled it out the notice that while there was a hole in his armour it had not actually made contact with skin. He was almost disappointed.
He then looked up and saw Antioch clasping his left hand, which was now a melted mass of metal. Seeing that Aaron was alive and in semi-good health, Antioch finished off his repairs and got into a combat stance. Aaron noticed that his bag of fireballs had skittered across the floor behind Antioch. The two charged at each other. Just as Antioch was about to punch Aaron in the face, he slid between the Golem's legs, and reached out for the bag. He just caught the top of the sack-cloth bag with his fingers, clasping it tight. Then there was a violent tugging sensation on his left leg and Aaron found himself facing an upside down Antioch. He stared into those life-like blue eyes, terror striking him.
Antioch swung at Aaron with precision. The North Wind itself would have been crushed if he received such a blow. Aaron gripped the end of the bag and shook the explosive contents over the floor. There was a black flame and Aaron was lifted, then consumed. He felt a sensation of falling, then more falling, then falling some more, then he smashed into the floor. He looked up, fading in and out of consciousness, the smoke cleared vaguely. He had evidently cracked open the floor and fallen quite far through a number of levels. Every bit of him ached, but he wasn't dead.
", I'm alive. Didn't count on this." He murmured to himself. He looked left, Antioch was missing his left foot but was hauling himself to his feet with great effort. All over him were various wounds, some healing, some remaining open. In a last ditch effort to regain balance Antioch tugged the sword from the left side of his chest, making a loud grinding noise. The wound immediately began to seal over. The sword clattered to the floor, unknowingly skittering towards its master. Aaron pulled himself to his shaking legs and clumsily grabbed the sword from the floor. There were open wounds all over his arms, along with a burn-wound showing from a gaping hole in his breastplate. His armour and clothes were tattered to the point where they hung off him like eggshells. The room they were in was a hall of stone. The floor was chequered black and white, like a great chess board. All along the walls were steam-pipes, hissing and bubbling. They were evidently close to the boiler.
He and Antioch charged for the final time. Antioch caught Aaron off guard and slammed him into the wall with one arm. The sword hung limply in Aaron's right hand. Antioch caught him with that calmly intelligent blue gaze and for the third time that night Aaron prepared for death. His eyes clenched shut as Antioch drew back his melted fist. Then he opened then, thought "I have got to see a therapist about this..." and sunk the sword into Antioch's other arm. The resulting mechanical cry from Antioch echoed around the stone hall.
Aaron saw his opportunity and acted quickly. As Antioch groaned Aaron swung. There was a glint of blue, a crunching noise and then there was a clattering noise. Antioch's head rolled skittered across the floor mournfully, eyes flickering sadly, before going completely dark. Aaron turned as the great body collapsed with a great crash. He turned to see two awestruck Brotherhood soldiers carrying bags of satchel charges, both holding weapons as if they had just been about to join in when Aaron ended the fight. Aaron recognised them from that day about 6 months after the war ended.
The Brotherhood had changed hands from a distraught Komplex, to a fresh and ambitious Tauto. Unlike Komplex, who seemed overly devoted to the destruction of the Realm, despite Woobly's surprise attack which almost completely destroyed it. He never had taken defeat well. Despite the massacre that had taken place, during which at least twice as many Realm soldiers died as Brotherhood soldiers did, Komplex couldn't help blaming himself for letting Dominus slip through his fingers again. His last real action as leader of the Brotherhood had been to attack and destroy the Woobly Pyramid, before disbanding one of the best trained human armies in the history of the Craft. He had contemplated going back and hunting down Dominus. However, it simply seemed to him that it was unsporting for one. Then there was the difference between cutting him down in his own Citadel in front of a group of haughty aristocrats and servants as his army swarmed through the citadel in a glorious charge; and slaughtering some bloke in a forest in front of a bunch of rather weary woodcutters and builders with an oversized army that was hopelessly bored.
Then the Brotherhood had remained inactive for roughly five months. They were almost forgotten, a children's tale told to scare small children and make them check under the bed for a hairy creature wearing funny pants. Tauto however, had other plans. He convinced the still confused Komplex that he was in no shape to properly lead, and needed a rest; gaining himself title of Chapter leader in the process. Then he, Mad Dog (now Atreidon), St. Jay and Ubi began their machinations. Mad Dog was sent out to spread a message of fear among the other groups, whilst also offering them the possibility of salvation should they side with the Brotherhood. The others went out and "re-asserted" Brotherhood dominance in the Frontlines. Then they began stealing Testificate slaves and breeding them, reforming their dominance in the slave trade after the THP-land massacre. Then, a month in the Brotherhood began recruiting for the first time since they arrived in this land.
There was a large meeting in the Forum for the trial of Gerrit. Whilst Kay and Mad went toe to toe to the point where they started brawling Aaron had been outside with Secret, "chilling" at the Shrine. Suddenly Ubi and Tauto came out with Bottany and set up a huge podium, drawing the attention of the large crowd that was gathered. Then Jolly came up and made some rousing speech or something and asked for volunteers. Their task was to fight Ubi in the boxing rink. Should they survive three rounds or beat Ubi they could join the Brotherhood. Many tried and failed, but by the end they had six new recruits. These were Beatman, Bebe, Get Mad, Sky Canopus, Johnny Apple and Loki. Before Aaron now were Loki and Johnny. They seemed most impressed for Brotherhood members. Usually the Brotherhood never let on when they were impressed. Therefore, either Aaron had just done something impossibly badass; these guys were kept out of the major public image for a reason; or Antioch had hit him harder than he thought.
Johnny was the first to speak. "That was pretty damn impressive Gaian, ever consider applying to a real cause? I mean Kay makes some okay points, and he's a pretty good tactician but admit it, we're always going to come out on top." He spoke haughtily and without empathy.
" off. I don't need this..." Grunted Aaron, turning and limping away from the two; disgruntled by Johnny annoying salesman approach to recruitment.
"I'm sorry, forgive my arrogant friend. You can see why he's not let outside a lot. I'm Loki, pleased to make your acquaintance. " He continued before Johnny could protest. "Do you know where the others are. Brother Beatman said there was some sort of offensive going on down here, he gave us a map. I'm starting to think it wasn't a proper map and he was trying to get us out of the way." He handed over a small wooden sheet with a few scribbles on it.
"This is a game of snakes and ladders: pocket edition with a bunch of squiggly lines and a misspelt "X". I'm not sure how he managed it but he spelt it "iXe". You guys actually fell for this piece of ?" Aaron asked incredulously.
"We only got the map a few minutes ago. He was leading us from it." Said Johnny in a whiny voice. "Hang on where is Beatman? He was with us a minute ago. Gave us the map so he could go take a and sent us on. I would have thought caught up by now."
"This is odd. There is no offensive down there. You two are demolitions experts aren't you?" Aaron inquired, breaking into a coughing fit.
"Yeah, Beat said something about breaking the Northern Tower down from beneath." Replied Loki.
"The Northern Tower is in the complete opposite direction, and those wouldn't be enough to bring down the tower from beneath, the thing is build on a rare upsurge of obsidian..." Aaron and the duo all had the same moment of realisation. There was the clank of a boot hitting metal from behind. They all turned at once, weapons at the ready, Aaron grabbing the reinforced phial from around his neck to make sure it was still there.
All of a sudden multiple steam-pipes began bursting and created a fog cloud around them. Aaron immediately led the group up to one of the recently burst pipes, to find that someone had crudely rammed a shiv into the pipe while they hadn't been looking. Loki leant in and examined the shiv. The craftsmanship was evidently Brotherhood, with the curved shard of diamond, glinting with the purple shimmers of enchantment; and the mahogany handle the blade was delicately inserted into a pristine birch handle with delicately carved finger grips. What made Aaron especially uneasy was the decorative "B" on the base of the blade.
"This is Brother Beatman's bla-" Loki began, before stopping abruptly and spluttering. In a few seconds he was on the floor, coughing up blood before going limp and crumbling to dust. In the midst of the pile was an almost identical blade to the one Loki had just pulled out of the pipe. Aaron and Johnny turned with their weapons towards their assailant.
"Weapons down boys, you might just hurt someone. We wouldn't want to lose anyone else after today's bloodbath. By the way you haven't seen a small shifty looking chap with a musket have you? I was supposed to meet him here." Came the haughty voice of Beatman as he strolled casually through the fog to the point where they could just make him out. His face was narrow and gaunt-looking like he had not slept or eaten properly in some days. He walked with a mild limp, as if something were causing him great pain or discomfort as he walked; as if he walked on broken glass. He had donned his traditional Brotherhood armour for a more traditional suit, only lacking a top-hat to look like one of the gentlemen of the city of Mojang. He evidently wasn't expecting much conflict.
"Hello I'm Complex 8. pleased make your acquaintance. Before you grace me with the inevitable death threats I'd like to say that I've delved into some old Endling magic and it would be wise not to me off. Almost killed me but damn was it worth it. Now put the weapons down and-" He was cut off by a violent outburst from Johnny.
"Like hell we will! THP till I die mo-fo! BLARGHHH!" And he rushed at Complex 8/Beatman, sword in hand, eyes clamped shut against the steam.
There was a blur and Beatman was gone, and Johnny had four identical blade protruding from his chest, him letting a low groan slip between his lips. Behind him was none other than Beatman, except, his skin appeared to be made of diamond, like Komplex when he went into battle. The suit was torn where the diamonds poked through, and his head was plated in what looked like a diamond hockey mask jammed crudely into a helmet. The blades that had killed Johnny were protruding from between Beat's knuckles (like wolverine's claws; clichéd I know but roll with me here). Beat placed his foot on Johnny's rump and unceremoniously tugged out the blade muttering "Never liked you anyway".
Beat readied to turned on Aaron when a phial of strange green liquid smashed against the left side of his face. The liquid itself was the colour of swamp grass, and smelled at least as foul as a swamp itself. The liquid would have been unpleasant to begin with, but then the burning started. He let out of his throat a great cry of pain, that pierced Aaron's eardrums. Thick grey smoke began to rise from the left half of his face; Aaron had a certain sense of Deja Vu. Thankfully this did not hamper his senses too long, and he followed it up by royally boxing Beat's ear. Beat crumpled to the floor, clasping his injured faced. As Aaron stood over him, Beat came to his senses and croaked "You're late 3."
"Sorry," Came a familiar voice from behind Aaron. Aaron was about to turn and identify the new figure when a cold metal blade punched through the back of his chest and out through the front. Aaron felt himself tense up in pain, but managed to muster the strength to look down. Protruding from his chest was the unmistakable tip of a Gaian bayonet. It was authentic down to the monogrammed ASM, signifying the makers of the blade were Aaron's old company Authentic Stoneholm Manufacturing. They were most certainly a Gaian. "I've never been good at keeping deadlines." There was a bang and a gaping hole appeared in Aaron's chest, and a sensation of crumbling. He felt a boot on hi back, a sensation of falling and then he was jut a pile of dust on the floor.
Elsewhere the rest of us were still scrambling around the fortress, both witnessing the ever deteriorating situation for Overlord's men first-hand, and searching helplessly for a mod. At last we came to a courtyard lit by dawns early light and filled with marble statues, lush lawns, a lovely fountain and dozens of brawling soldiers. We were in luck, Ryan himself had just entered the courtyard with a squad of Void's men, along with a compilation of fighters from different groups. He was holed up a top the fountain, blasting back or stabbing anyone who dared come near him whilst simultaneously delivering orders and using his staff to pick up and lob heavy objects at a large iron door, which seemed to lead towards the Northern Tower.
A quick description of the Northern Tower is big, threatening, and filled to the brim with weapons and explosives. A true marvel of Vangaardian architecture; carved out of a great mound of obsidian which protruded from the earth, and then built upon with imported stone, said to be strong enough to survive a full on attack from one of the great Withers. 5 years ago to the date of the attack Vangaard had bought the city of Aegis and begun work on what would soon gain fame as one of the most secure structures in the Craft, only surpassed by the innermost Brotherhood vaults, the Woobly Pyramid and the Bunkers beneath the R7K citadel. Today, it was equipped with Overlords finest cannons and mortars, with an elite battalion stationed there at all times, with room for three more battalions (battalions being between 900 and 1,200 men). Most of his forces appeared to have retreated to the palace, and then many of those to the Northern Tower; for the Tower was raining hell upon the city. Ally and enemy were plainly not being distinguished between; the only goal was evidently to level anything within the minimum and maximum ranges in every direction.
We forced our way past a group of Overlord's men; having to leave Jolly, Broken and Insert behind to help Ubi. Starletts had woken up and was calling to his men to help him whilst wrestling with Ubi. Then, in a few moments Tauto, Ruary and I were standing before Ryan. He looked down for a moment and noticed our distraught faces.
"What's going on? Did you disable the weapon?" He asked in a half exited half panicked voice.
"No sir," Said Ruary, running a thorough report of the events. "We were duped on almost every level. The hostages got out but we were swayed by Ray to take an alternative route due to very real security boosts. By the way did you know he was-"
"Alive? I was told by a few boys from Team 2. I also know that's Starletts wrestling with Ubi right now thanks to them." Ryan responded, with a proud note in his voice at being in the know about something.
"Well then," Continued Ruary. "We discovered that he was Williams..." And thus Ruary continued up to the point of our present situation. "We can assume that Ray will be waiting in the hanger for you and the other moderators."
"Mother of GOD!" Cried Ryan suddenly. "Viking is taking the others into the hanger to help out you guys and possibly disarm the weapon!"
"We've got to get there now!" Replied Tauto, pleased to have a definite mission. "What's the Fastest route?"
"Follow me..." Ryan stated coldly before hopping down from the fountain and beginning to walk in what we naturally assumed was the direction of the hanger.
"Wait." Said Ruary abruptly. Ryan turned almost indignantly to ask "What?"
"Take this." Ruary tossed him the Gauntlet. Ryan smiled in gratitude and slotted his arm in to that fabled weapon of his enemy.
"Let us go friends." He began, turning to the wider group of soldiers who had just driven out Overlord's men. "My men will stay here and tend to the wounded, holding this area until reinforcements arrive. The rest of you are with me. We're ending this here and now! Now we take the head of the Overlord!"
There was a rallying war-cry and we were off. I decided to look at who was among the six dozen or so of us who were charging through the previously empty corridors (unless you count a few corpses left to rot as the flies gathered around them). First of all there were about fifteen Vangaardian knights, led by the demi-mod, Gorbanth. Woe betide any who stood in the way of these by-the-book, but deadly warriors glad in iron and gold. Following them were a group of Legionnaires who were apparently leaderless. After them was a group of warriors from ELITE, their former green and blue emerald armour, replaced with blood red rubies, or at least very well painted emerald and or metal, with obsidian filling the replacing the lapis adornments where possible. These were led by Alec Mountain, Governor of Williamsburg, prince of the forest. Then there was a detachment of roughly twenty members of the Order and a bakers dozen of standard and elite soldiers; their appearance so tattered even the perpetual arrogance of the elite soldiers was temporarily silenced. We had had to leave Ubi and Insert behind due to injury, leaving just myself, Tauto, Ruary, Broken and Jolly as the remains of Team 3. Also among the crowd were Secret and Small, who came up beside me.
"Mind explaining what on Earth is going on?" Asked Secret pointedly.
"Ray is alive, Overlord, and on the verge of becoming all powerful thanks to a futuristic set of armour that can suck out people's souls." I blurted out, panting from lack of breath due to both running and speaking at the same time.
"So..." Secret was obviously disturbed by this information, looking nervously at Small. "As bad or worse than Zine"
"Less dangerous for now, but we're not as well equipped as we were then. Plus our enemy knows very well what he's up against this time, nor does he rely on the unreliable yet crushingly predictable behaviour of the creatures of the night."
"Well, at least we have them on the run." Muttered Small, annoyed at the lack of any positive info.
"We can't claim that for long," Secret retorted gravely. "Raylord has evidently been planning for this eventuality for quite a while. I assume this suit is one of the projects that was originally developed during "Operation Overlord". This is probably what Fedwin has been developing for the duration of his capture. By the way, what happened to Fedwin? I hear he wasn't among the escaped hostages."
"I imagine he wasn't." Ruary interjected, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "He was one of Overlord's most important prisoners, if not the most important. He'll have been kept in solitary, probably in either the tower or the hanger at the moment.
"I must agree with you there Ruary. Excellent deductions. Glad to see that there are military minds to rival my own and Aaron's." Secret replied cheerfully, in his element. Small rolled his eyes; knowing that Secret was about to go into one of his famous rambles. Then Tauto interjected indignantly.
"Hey! We have some damn good minds in our collective as well." The pang of hurt that he had not been immediately included in the conversation and was now being excluded from praise was evident in his voice.
Secret was about to respond but Small cut across him sourly and cuttingly. "I'll admit that you have some fine economic minds, and you yourself are a damn politician, but you lack proper military strategy beyond the first few steps."
Tauto was about to respond with either a cutting insult or a long, deep counter-argument about why Small was wrong when the figure of Walt went flying over our heads screaming something about "not signing up for this". Then came the sound of metallic, maniacal laughter. Ray was quite obviously enjoying himself way too much. This was going to be difficult.
We entered into the hanger and were greeted by chaos itself. Around the room our lot were being overwhelmed by the forces of our enemies. The scene was that of Overlord's daily update videos; with the polished metal railings; the idyllic waterfall and lip of rock; there was even a camera in the middle of the room, with a small Latino man curled up on the floor, a chain leading to a peg hammered loosely into the floor. In the centre was Overlord, clad in white, with rings of men lying around him. It took me a second to notice but Ray was grappling with someone, and that the men lying closest to the two were unconscious moderators. It didn't take me long to figure out that the person locked in combat with Ray was Viking.
Viking stabbed at Ray's head with his javelin, only to have it wrenched from his hand. Ray pulled it from his enemy's hand, knocking back Viking, before snapping it over his knee. Viking made to blast Ray back with his staff, thrusting with the strength of ten men. With a twirl Ray leapt to the right, Vikings blast doing little but blowing Fabio's (as I learned he was called) peg out of the floor. As Fabio jumped up in glee and fled from the Scene, Ray knocked the staff from Viking's grip and struck him upon the helm. As Viking toppled like a tree in lumber district Ray turned around slowly and triumphantly, arms spread like an eagle's.
"Who will face me?" Cried Ray; contempt evident in his tone, . "Where is the might of the Brotherhood?" He gestured to the ashes and a sword that were unmistakably Komplex. "The Gaians?" He gestured to a detachment of unconscious and or dead Gaians. "Legion?" He gestured to the corpse of Reagan. Ruary flinched momentarily at the sight of his fallen brother. "Arcation?" There was a strange lack of any arcation corpses but Ray did not seem to realise. "Did not a mere 10 years ago most of you convened in the Great Forum, in the face of Herobrine's Onslaught? Did many of you not boldly declare this Craft to contain the finest of all men? That nothing could break the strength and unity of this Craft? Well, I see ye who boasted have royally jinxed yourselves. Wait... Where're the Arcation bodies, where's my dead gogyst?"
At that point Vacar charged at Ray, swinging his fiery blade, cleaving a small but notable gash in the armour just beneath the left arm. Ray sadly, was only grazed, and was not vaguely fazed but very annoyed at the tear in his new suit. His left hand then morphed into a sword and was swung crudely at Vacar's head. Vacar blocked the blow with his flaming blade, but was caught in the throat by the other gauntlet. He staggered back momentarily, coughing into his hand and drawing it back to find blood spattered on in. He made a lurching movement that might have been an attempt on Ray's life but he ended up crumbling into Ray's arms, a hollow shell of dusty armour.
There was the sound of a twanging bowstring and Overlord jerked unwillingly forwards, turning to see Besta duck behind Walker's great stone shield. From his left shoulder protruded an arrow, whose eagle-feather fletchings were unmistakably of Arcation make. From either side charged Gogyst and Noobi, letting out horrific war cries, murder in their eyes. Ray had to think fast, and so he did. First he removed Walker's and Besta from the fight, with a dual-gauntleted blast that smashed into that wall of a shield. The great stone shield was reduced to chunks and powder as its master and Besta were thrust backwards by the sheer force of the explosion. Then he plucked the arrow from his shoulder, for it had only been lightly lodged in between two plates of his armour and had drawn no blood. This he then threw with precision into the chest of Noobi, who, whilst not slain, was forced to drop his sword in agony. The fluorescent light in the palm of Ray's hand glowed bright blue and the plummeting sword gained new purpose and soared, handle-first into Ray's outstretched hand.
Savouring the triumph of this skilful display(at least by his own standards) he failed to notice Gogyst come up behind him until he was being doused in fire. Gogyst observed the ball of flame exuding from the tip of his staff with almost sick triumph until the fuel ran out and the flame flickered away. Gogyst's face changed from malice to shock as what he anticipated to be a melted white ball of pain, was revealed a charred and somewhat angry, but otherwise unharmed Ray. He was chortling insanely to himself.
"Was that supposed to hurt? I'll admit it tickled a bit but is that all you are capable off? If I wanted to be amused I'd have employed the services of a nanny, not confront the chieftain of Arcation." He droned in a purposefully droll and mocking tone.
Gogyst snarled at Ray's jeers and charged in anger, and swung at Ray's throat with the tip of his staff. The blade however, despite its most precise effort to find flesh, was greeted by the flat of Noobi's steel blade. Gogyst, used to this scenario pressed a button on the shaft and a small poison-tipped dart sprang out into Ray's face. The dart however was just as useless as the spear, bouncing off of Ray's mask, causing him to do little more than flinch mildly. Ray then followed up this successful strategy of blocks by clouting Gogyst around the head with his free hand. There was a cracking noise and Gogyst fell with a thud, his eyes hazy and his jaw hanging open in a sickeningly wide and distorted manner. His staff clattered to the floor just out of his reach. Gogyst and Ray both saw the weapon at once and both moved to react. Gogyst spun and kicked Ray in the shoulder, knocking away his outstretched arm. Gogyst grabbed the spear low in the shaft, and, wielding it like some form of crude club swung it at his oncoming opponent. However, just as it smashed into the dazzling white mask, the blade of Noobi sank into his wrist. Gogyst let out a shriek of pain as his bloodied, gloved hand fell to the floor. Ray however was not unscathed, he was doubled over, holding his hand to his eye. He drew it away and straightened up. In one eye the light had gone dim and there was a long twisting crack coming down from the dimmed eye. From this crack poured blood, not much but enough to lift our spirits.
From somewhere in the the crowd someone cried "ATTACK" and we fell upon him. Ruary halted a moment to warn Ryan and Gorbanth away from joining the fighting. They consented and he rushed off to join the rest of us. In the centre a slaughter was taking place, Ray brutally battering our men as some brave souls tried to remove the fallen moderators from the fray. In order to avoid the general massacre, Secret, Small and I decided to try out some old tactics. I muttered "Prison station Delta, explosive daggers tactic" to the pair and we set about our technique. I rushed as close as I dared to Ray and crouched, fingers knitted together so as to give them a boost. Secret sprinted at me, being thrust over my head as he stepped in my hand, firing an explosive arrow into Ray's chest. Ray gave a small bit of ground and the light on his chest flickered momentarily, but he was much unperturbed. Then Small came in, being chucked in a similar fashion, and slicing down on the place where Secret had just blasted, leaving an "X" shaped gash in his chest and causing the light to continuously flicker like a damp torch. Before he could finish the job however he was grabbed by the throat and thrown into the crowd.
Our men, try as they might could not break his defences, but he was shattering our offence. He simply needed to strike a man and he would fall. WHACK, one man down. CRACK, two more fallen. SNAP, another's spine was shattered over his knee. It seemed impossible and we began to give ground, only to find that Besta had taken the initiative whilst we were all allowing ourselves to be made fools of. He had organised the archers and four riflemen into a ring around Overlord and as we retreated he gave the order. Overlord was suddenly caught in an endless storm of arrows and bullets. Soon everyone who could was involved, even if just throwing rocks. Yet still he was able to fire blasts of that strange blue flame and fell our men at almost regular intervals. Yet we were still doing little damage in comparison.
"There has to be some way to do this..." thought Secret frantically. Then, noticing the ceiling he allowed his bowstring to slacken and his eyes to wander up to the uneven limestone ceiling. Then he saw it, conveniently located just above Ray's head was a large and seemingly loose stalactite. He returned the arrow already nocked to his quiver and plucked his last explosive arrow. He drew the bowstring back sharply, to the point where his hands began to quiver from the strain and took careful and delicate aim. A bead of sweat trickled down Secret's forehead. He knew he only had one shot at this and he was going to make it count. However, just as he was about to let the arrow fly, a strange whiskey bottle soared through the air, twirling as it did so.
The bottle shattered on the stalactite, bursting into flames. The great knife point of stone began to shake and the ceiling around it began to crack and shower Ray in dust. He ceased from the slaughter and all began to fall back as he stared in confusion at the shattering ceiling. Then there was a sudden crack and the heavens fell upon Ray. In a few moments there was little more than a pile of rubble where he was. The fingers of his gauntlet were poking out from beneath the rocks, looking quite limp. Overlord's men retreated in terror, seeing that their leader had been vanquished.
"He's dead..." Came the mumble of Gorbanth, who had approached the pile cautiously. "I can't believe it he's actually dead! WE'VE WON!"
There was a raucous wave applause from among the men, I myself joined in. Secret looked gleefully at me from his position on the other side of the ring. I returned the gesture and we returned our gaze to Gorbanth who was calling for quiet.
"I believe we all have one man to thank for this great victory. That man is right up there on that walkway, Viral!" He gestured to a dancing Viral, clasping his fiery whiskey bottles and wearing his mask. He had evidently gotten lost again and had done it for leisure, possibly not even realising it would fall on anyone. He looked like he was about to toss a whiskey bottle into the crowd in his excitement. He never got the chance to brutally maim those eager young Legionnaires he was taking such care to aim for.
From the pile of rubble had come a tidal wave of solid light. We were all blown backwards, in a daze from the force of the blow. In the centre of it all was a badly dented and extremely dusty Ray, floating two inches off of the ground. The bottom right corner of his mask was missing, showing the bleeding and bruised corner of his mouth. My vision was hazy and I was phasing in and out of consciousness.
Ryan struck Ray round the head with his staff, the sound of metal on stone ringing around the hanger. All went black. Then Ryan was struck in the gut, wind rushing from his lungs. The blur that was Ray knocked the staff from the Ryan blur's hands. All went black again. Ray was standing over the fallen Ryan, my vision clearer now. All turned to black as Ray lifted Ryan by the throat up to eye level. My eyes snapped open as Ray's gauntlet turned and Ryan began thrashing. I thought all was lost, Ray would have the power of a moderator. Dominus won whether he got the suit or not. It was over.
But then the most peculiar thing happened. Ryan's pupils narrowed in concentration, and he stopped thrashing. With a shaking hand he gripped the damaged light in Ray's breastplate. His other hand was drawing back, as if to push Ray back. His fingers dug deep into the brittle quartz around the light, causing it to crumble like dry sand. Then, with the strength of a dozen men, Ryan wrenched it from Ray's chest, simultaneously slamming his other palm into Ray's bare breast. Ray soared out of the room at the speed of the wind. We all hauled ourselves to our feet, hobbling towards the edge. We all looked down in dazed curiosity to find the same almost sorry sight.
Ray lay spread-eagled on the rocks below, seemingly gasping for air. From his back came a steady flow of crimson blood. A number of wild dogs came up and began to lap at the blood, having been starved of food since Overlord's men came and took to hunting animals in excess, leaving little worth mentioning. A few of the men broke into half-hearted cheers that eventually broke into hearty applause. But there was an air of hollowness to it. There was something we had missed, I was sure of it. I turned to look at Ryan, who was sat atop a rock, looking dumbfounded.
"Cubs, Gorb, scrape Ray off of those rocks will you? He'll stick. And for god's sake will someone tend to Gogy's hand, he's bleeding out over there!" Viking said in a poor but well-meant attempt at dark humour. He walked up to Ryan and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"The successor will surpass his master in strength, and cut off the head of the family..." Ryan said in an excited but terrified voice, the breath seemingly removed from his lungs.
"...and from the verge of demise shall defeat the would be divine. Yet heed my warning. Thy successor will lead the Craft into a golden age, at the sacrifice of thy own life... Thus were the words of the Oracle those long years ago Ryan." Viking said soothingly embracing him.
While I struggled to grasp what this meant as Ryan broke down into silent tears of mourning. "For whom does he weep?" I asked Celtic in a whisper.
"For a man who has yet to die..." Celtic murmured cryptically.
So, here's the first half of Chapter 3. This is a segment known as "Familiar Faces" which allows us to catch up with what happened after Aegis to most of the crucial characters, as well as introduce some key characters from Kay's past.
The story goes on. The Overlord may be defeated, but Falcon, Dominus and Zerg are still out there. Not to mention that the Family has returned.
Chapter 3: Familiar Faces
Part 1:The Train
The battle after Ray's defeat had been relatively simple. Overlord's men in the hanger had scattered like woodlice when their shelter is yanked from the ground, revealing them to the blinding gaze of a merciless sun. Gorbanth and Rage, both of Vangaardian descent had lead the assault on the Northern Tower, shattering the defences with their mere presence. The Tower was in such a state of disarray by the time they battered down the door and marched in taking the tower felt almost redundant. Falcon had escaped the city with a small unit of her storm troopers, Beatman, a captive Fedwin (he really has no luck does he?), the person who stabbed Aaron and a prototype version of the gauntlet Ray had intended to use on the moderators. There of course was a massive party across the entire city once we had rounded up the remaining insurgents. However, it felt, hollow. Falcon was still out there and likely about to go straight to Dominus.
This feeling hung heavily on me as I lay in that dark, dusty train car. It was dated, even though trains were a relatively new invention. This car, in addition to being third class, was a good twenty years old, and had clearly seen better days than these. The once crimson curtains were now faded and moth-eaten. The seaweed green leather seat cushions were torn in almost every place possible. The wooden panels were covered in scratches, weird food stains, graffiti, vomit, blood and just about everything else horrible that a human could do to a the wall of a train car whilst bored.The gold-painted iron grates upon which we had placed our few pieces of luggage and weapons were in a pretty sorry state too. The paint had scratched off in many parts and the iron beneath was rusting due to water leaking through various cracks in the ceiling. The room was dimly lit by a small brass chandelier with six oil fuelled candles. Only two of these candles were still lit, and they staggered drunkenly along, plainly on their last legs as the chandelier lashed out at anything around it. It might have been considered a luxury vessel back in its prime, but now it was a relic in a budget train cobbled together from the remains of other vehicles during the Great Onslaught. I lay asleep on the seat nearest the back of the train, Aaron lay asleep on the other. In a room about three doors down on the other side of the corridor lay Secret and Linx. Then in the room across from myself and Aaron was the surprise guest of our journey.
In that room was Mad Ol' Viral, and his pet cat, ABSOLUTE FLIPPING PSYCHOPATH!!! (or simply psycho). His presence had been a personal request during the celebrations. Upon Secret rather rudely demanding his reason he said this. "This may seem strange to you, but I'm familiar with this . I won't tell you how but I am, its too hard to explain at this moment. As for why I want to come, well, that's simple. Its come to my attention that you Gaians and Falcon are somehow interconnected. Just look at how she mocks your military, twisting the uniform, forming a group similar to your Elite Soldiers, and then organising the rest to mimic yours. Face it, wherever one goes the other will soon follow, whether you do it consciously or not."
And thus I consented and he came with us. While he could get into relatively foul tempers he was good company, he was an eloquent speaker and just as good at listening. Prior to this I had only heard him speak in the Forum or seen his monthly psychotic episodes, and had grown no proper sense of respect for the man. However, knowing that he had connections to the Family gave me a new-found interest in him. Sadly, in the week he had travelled with us I was as far from the truth of Falcon's identity as I ever had been. He knew about all of their old operations, and had believed them to have disbanded after the Brotherhood-Realm War, when Gerrit had been arrested. Falcon must have joined quite recently if this was the case.
I woke up with a start thinking I had figured it out. Then, my excitement quickly faded as I began to wonder what it was, or how I had solved it. I noticed that the side of my face was wet, and came to the conclusion that I had been caught on the cheek by a water droplet from the ceiling. I was about to lie down and return to sleep, grumpy that I had wasted my own time in such a way when I heard something.
Over the trundle of the train I heard voices, six of them I thought at first. Then I dismissed one of the voices because two sounded the same. I heard little but the word "knife" but on instinct assumed that it was not a bunch of rather husky sounding maids. I pulled my cloth blanket up over my face so that only my eyes were visible as the lock clicked and the door creaked slowly open. Standing in the opening was a pale-faced man in black robes with familiar purple tattoos. In one hand he held a crude knife, evidently made so that it looked like poor people did it, and in the other he clasped an old Dwarven pistol. "God! they still use those useless pieces of rubbish out here?" I had to mask my stifled snort with a yawn, stretching for good measure. My good humour in this instance was due to the lack of advancement that had apparently happened in the Inner Realm and or the Thaumlands was evident down to the way he held it. He was holding it from the hip, obviously expecting to shoot someone in the chest should they attack him. Since the rediscovery of enchantments this tactic was all but fruitless, as the old pistols were barely half as powerful as a perk. These poor sods wouldn't survive a day where we were headed.
I allowed myself this brief moment of satisfaction but was forced to let it go when I noticed that he was readying to slit Aaron's throat. I acted on pure instinct. I sprung out from beneath my blankets, pulling a flaming Amicus from its scabbard. The assassin turned in surpise to be struck in the nose by the pommel of my sword. There was cracking noise and he slumped against the door, crimson pouring from his flattened nose. The weapons dropped fom his hands and his eyes clenched shut. He was quite unconscious. I wiped the blood from the lapis pommelstone, cursing the man for having such a fragile nose. I checked that I was equipped with a perk, knife and sword and yanked open the door with a tremondous battle-cry.
Waiting there were two men turning in shock to see me. These two were from the Southern Outlands, where I had been raised. One of them swung a crudely crafted knife at me, the swing was blind and rushed, it would only hit me if I stayed completely still. I charged straight into him, batting his oncoming arm aside and kicking him in the diaphragm, causing the air to rush from his lungs. He went flying into Viral's room, the door mercifully unlocked and crashed into the sleeping Viral. Upon receiving this rude awakening Viral immediately reached for the first weapon available, his cat, Psycho. With a deafening shriek that could only be given out by a cat scorned the assailant was struck in the face by a very confused and grumpy Psycho. The man fell back with the cat attached mercilessly to his face. I turned from the scene to face the second as Viral began his assault.
This man had obtained himself a moment to get prepared and stood in proper fighting stance, clasping his knife like an extension of his own arm; proceeding to twirl it skilfully in his hand and making a sickeningly malicious grin. This was going to be much easier than I had anticipated. I swung my sword heavily and directly, slicing off half of the blade of his brittle knife, leaving a comparatively blunt and useless weapon. However, contrary to my expectations, instead of turning and fleeing he threw a blind punch to the temple which dazed me. Then the third man, who I had been unable to see grabbed me under the arms in such a way that I couldn't use Amicus against him. As I struggled his counterpart decided to come up and take a dig at me.
I leapt from the floor and kicked my assailant in the jaw. It came loose with a sickening crunch and he fell back, making a garbling noise that I assume would have been a cry of pain. This move was a double win, for not only had I incapacitated one, but the recoil from the blow was toppling the man who was restraining me. using the backwards motion from the fall I rolled over him as we fell, landing beside him as I dropped off. We both crawled to our feet at the same time. Still dazed from the blow to the temple I made a wild slash for his throat, to have my hand whacked upwards so that it stuck firmly in the wooden ceiling. Unable to remove it from the ceiling I used it as a fulcrum, jumping up and swinging my legs forwards. He was caught in the chest and toppled back onto the man with the broken jaw. I pulled out my knife and walked up them, my chest facing the door of mine and Aaron's room, knife pointed at the spot between the eyes of the man with the broken jaw.
That's when the door swung open and there was the bald man, pointing his pistol at my heart. I was momentarily frightened, until he actually shot me. Everything that could go wrong with one of these pistols did. First of all the bullet flew off target and struck me in the left side of the chest. My enchanted vest stopped the bullet halfway through. There had also been too much gunpowder, causing both I and my assailant to stagger backwards.
As I fell back into the room I crashed into both Viral and the man he was grappling with; who had managed to get the cat off his face and start fighting back. As we lay in a heap on the floor I whipped out my perk and poured all four bullets out at the bald man. He dodged the first with ease, but the second one caught him on the shoulder. There was a red stream, similar to wine flowed from his shoulder as it jerked back. The third caught him on the right of his throat and he stumbled towards Aaron, steadying himself on the edge of Aaron's seat. Then the final bullet hit him in the hip and he collapsed onto Aaron, who woke up screaming.
Aaron threw the dying man off of him and ran to the door, seeing me clutching a smoking perk. "Worst. Wake-up call. Ever..." He rasped through gritted teeth. I allowed myself a chuckle, it felt good to laugh. Then the man who had disarmed me stepped in front of Aaron, pointing his knife at him in a clumsy manner.
I saw my opportunity and kicked him in the back of the leg. He dropped to his knees, moaning in pain. Aaron followed this up by striking him in the side of the head forcing him to crash to the floor like a redwood with an axe in its side. Then we turned on the man with the broken jaw. He dropped his broken nice in surrender and was raised his hands when a man with a black eye who was plainly his twin ran out of Secret and Linx's room, followed swiftly by one of Secret's arrow. He ran out crying "WE'RE LEAVING THIS CRAZY TRAIN! COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!"
He pushed past me and Aaron and towards the door leading out of the back of the train. Soon he was followed by his three friends. Linx was the first to react, rolling out of his room, musket in hand, and shooting the one nearest the end in between the shoulders. He fell with a thud. Secret stumbled out after him, clasping his bow in one hand, pulling up his trousers with the other. We pursued them as swiftly as we could, reaching the door jut in time to see the last one jumping into a carriage that was rushing along beside the train. The paint was matt black. The velvet interior was that of richest purple. The handles of the open doors were of the shiniest bronze. Within we saw a man with a top hat and court attire. The brim of his hat was pulled low, covering his eyes and casting a shadow over the rest of his face. At his side lay a ceremonial golden sword. This had been the mark of an officer in the Thaumic-Endling army during the Onslaught. "Either Dominus has decided to really stretch his recruitment range or someone from the Onslaught has a grudge. Falcon might have done it I suppose, but they'd have to have some animosity for me to come out of hiding. Who could it be? He is dead, that's for certain. Israphel never really acknowledged my existence and I wasn't well-known enough. Or was I? Plus he's locked in a prison somewhere in Mojang. Worth is a possibility, although he never was formally enlisted. Arden, Mercer and Quintus are also possibilities too. All of the others are dead or being held in the Farlands. Who on Earth is it? My mind raced, unsure of what was going on.
That's when I saw the black, shrivelled arm with its fingers like talons, and the glassy purple eye. He was alive. My worst fears had been confirmed. I stood there gawping as he gestured for one of his thugs to close the doors before Linx could put a round into the room or Secret an arrow. And thus they slammed shut, Secret's explosive arrow exploding off of the door, amazingly leaving little but scorch marks. The figure inside made a gesture as if he were tipping his hat to us respectfully, and the carriage fell behind until it was little more than a black blot on the horizon, silhouetted by the crack of dawn..
"Kay?" Asked Viral, unsettled by my sudden comatose appearance. "What's wrong?"
"Hamish..." I uttered, the two syllables burning my mouth like acid. I rubbed the burn wounds on my throat. I turned. Viral and Linx looked confused but Secret and Aaron knew my dread, and shared it. I prayed that we could lose him before we reached Mojang. We would pick up British and Gracey and leave before anything else Hamish-related happened. Whatever was going on, it just gained a new dimension of terror. My old foe had returned, and he was out for blood...
Part 2:A Glimpse
I tried in vain to pull myself to my feet, feeling my strength slowly sap from the wound on my side. The great stained-glass window facing out over the city was shattered in 6 places, where the Family had crashed through. I could not believe The Kingdom's betrayal. No. The Craft's Betrayal. it. It was my betrayal I couldn't believe. We weren't prepared for this. Not at all.
The mighty mahogany door was incinerated, melted almost. The great glass chandelier lay in pieces on the floor, next to the bare podium where the book had just lain. The granite walls were lacking their lustre, appearing faded and verging on shapeless, yet also filled with a sense of impending doom, since the disappearance of The Family, as if the building were both saddened and angry. Perhaps it was my imagination going wild in my moment of defeat. Dominus had won. I at the very least was defeated. I could not allow Void to fall as well.
I managed to get to my knees. I looked around. The Gaians were gathered in a circle, surrounded by a mix of Dominus' men and the guards of the True Court. Key and his small band of men hand gathered around me in a last ditch attempt at defence. Jolly lay limply on the floor, unconscious and with a great welt on his brow but breathing. Tauto stood by him, fending off those who came too near, until he was struck in the hip by a spear. He fell by his brother's side, crying in pain. Komplex was nowhere to be seen, nor Atreidon. They had stayed behind to slow Jeb's advance upon us.
Most tragically of all, Void stood by the wall behind me. His arms were raised in reluctant surrender, staff lying uselessly by his feet on the floor. His eyes were filled with nothing but hopelessness. Around him stood Dominus', Raven (I still wonder who she really is) and a number of Jeb's bodyguards. All pointed weapons at Void's throat, all intent on killing him should he try to escape. Jeb himself stood by the door, gingery hair hanging in dreadlocks around his chiselled and weatherworn face. By his side was Dinner Bone, hunched over, balding, wrinkled, drooling, idiotic and just about any other words that describe my outrage about his bloody idiotic legislations. I wondered why Jeb was so devoted to wiping out the Southern Thaums yet allowed this monster to live.
There was a clattering noise and the weapons of Komplex, Vacar and Atreidon came skittering across the floor. The Blind Watcher, my old master, was a good 8 feet tall, putting him a full head larger than even Komplex (roughly 7 feet tall). His shoulders were broad, like a bull's, with hi foes lung over them. His arms were bulging with muscles His raw umber hair was chin length and unruly and tangled as a rose bush. At the end of his triangular chin was a well kept goatee. His facial features looked like they were carved sharply out of marble. He wore his now iconic obsidian armour; his bedrock plated broadsword at his side. His eyes were what struck me most. They were like blank slates of quartz, shining like the moon. They were blank but filled with knowledge beyond that of human comprehension. Right now they were filled with sadness as they fell upon me, the faithful lapdog.
Then there was Zerg, the beast himself. The best way I can describe him is as built like Herobrine with a sky-blue-painted boiled egg for a head and as few defining features as possible. Apart from an eneven blond beard that gave the illusion of cheese stuck to a pizza-cutter and a pair of abnormally pointy ears his face was pretty unmemorable. However he had a twisted air of menace around him. His staff was held loosely by the end, being used to direct soldiers like an insane conductor leading a sinister orchestra.
"Void." Came Jeb's malice-filled voice. "Do you choose to plea guilty? If you do I assure you there will be a fair-ish trial and you will be allowed to live. However, should you choose to deny your guilt now, I will have you committed to an insane asylum and killed in a horrible accident. Your legacy with be systematically ripped apart and you yourself will become a foul taste in the mouths of your people. Choose wisely..." This was one of the things I couldn't help but find irritating about Jeb, his ability to circumvent his own laws. He was a good man at heart but he constantly exploited genius loopholes in his laws whilst catching anyone else who attempted to use them in the act.
"I plea guilt-" Void was about to make a huge mistake and therefore I stopped him from doing so. I pushed through the line of Dominus' troops and stood in front of Void, arms spread out as if they would somehow shield him from Jeb's vengeance. I was expendable, Cossack, Abb, or one of the others could easily take my place.
"NO!" I cried, staring Jeb straight in the eye. Seeing that I had grabbed his attention, I spoke as quickly as I could. "I claim full responsibility for the night's events! It was an ill-fated effort to discredit Dominus, possibly gaining myself some political leverage in the process. Void was unaware until the effort was already underway; even then he tried to stop us. He was actually in the process of stopping us when tweedle-dumbinus and tweedle-downright-insane decided to blow the bloody door off. My agents panicked and fled into the night and I was rendered unconscious until a few moments ago, unable to give the order to surrender."
He contemplated this for a few moments, before being ripped from his thoughts by Zerg, who looked furious. "Lord Jeb! This man questions my sanity and that angers me for blatantly obvious reasons. I care not of his past service and the fact that he's gained a certain amount of fame for his exploits during the Onslaught. He dares to insult me and has disgraced this good house! Allow me to fight this man in a traditional pankration. Allow me to teach him his place."
He was eloquent in speech, I'll give him that. If I were in Jeb's position I would have believed him. Jeb seemed reluctant to allow more blood-shed in this supposedly sacred hall, but nodded his assent. "No use of your abilities as a moderator Zerg. Sword-play and hand-to-hand fighting until someone surrenders or is knocked out. No gouging of eyes, removal of limbs, or fatal wounds from either side. Those are the rules, you may begin."
Zerg and I drew swords and bowed respectfully. I felt a cold bead of sweat roll cautiously down my temple, like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. Then a nameless herald yelled "GO!" and we rushed each other.
Zerg made the first move, bringing his sword down hard on my sword-arm, hoping to disarm me early in the fight. I however, had predicted the move, and held my sword with the edge pointed at the base of his blade. My blade bit into the steel razor-like blade, cutting almost all the way through. With a quick twist I drove my shoulder into Zerg's chest, knocking him backwards and snapping the blade from its hilt. It fell to the floor with a defeated clang. I advanced as my opponent tossed his useless weapon to the side and got into a crude fighting position; he was evidently inexperienced in real combat. "This is going to be easier than I thought." was all that could come to mind.
In hind-sight I shouldn't have taken that bait, tantalising as it was. The fisherman lured me in with that stance like it were chum, and I were a shark. I rushed straight at him, jaws open and ready to clench down on his neck. Then he royally hit me on the nose, sending Amicus flying from my hand, embedding it in one of the many great bookshelves around the room. He followed this up with a blow to my jaw. I however, was angered at being robbed of my prey and mercilessly boxed him thrice in the face with my right arm. Then I threw a blow into his gut, making the wind fly from his lungs in terror and his throat to exude a satisfying grunt. He staggered a few steps, doubled-over like a hunch-back and panting hoarsely like a sick dog.
I advanced slowly, and stopped, standing tall over my injured opponent, feeling invincible. I readied to strike him in the side of the head, and cement my victory. Then he spoke in his ever-so-slightly slurred, voice that was like the dull roar of thunder. "I know your type..." He began thus, the wind returning to his lungs and beginning to straight slowly, at roughly the pace of a coffin being lowered into a grave. I struck him in the jaw heavily but did not even low his rise until he was staring me in the eye.
"You're confident." He continued with a slow mocking note entering his voice. I struck him again but he still went on, "You're enthusiastic." I struck him twice in the face and once in the stomach as he began walking towards me. "But you are also arrogant..." He caught my next blow did not let go even as I began punching him in the nose fruitlessly, not even bruising it. "You think you can both take on and change the world on your own." He began crushing my hand, causing me to cry in pain and fall me my knees as blood began to run between his fingers. "I was once like you I suppose." He struck me across the face, causing me to fall sideways, holding my arm firmly behind my back and twisting it. He laughed coldly as I fought back tears. "Before they taught me otherwise." He then dislocated my arm swiftly and brutally before tossing me limply to the floor. I felt pain surge through my veins and I let out another roar of pain. "Now I pass on the lesson to you." He grabbed me by the throat, lifting me to the throats, speaking through insane chuckles. "People like us just don't succeed in life. Do you know why?" He looked for an answer from my weak figure. He was plainly angered by my lack of responsiveness for he roared, "DO YOU KNOW WHY?!"
I let out a small, "No..." My voice quivering with pain.
That's when he began laughing that uncontrollable, insane chortle. That laugh that chilled me down to the base of my spine. In that laugh I heard death, and hell followed with it. "I'll tell you why. We have too much DIGNITY!" He tossed me at the fire-place like a rag-doll. My back crashed into the limestone mantel with a sickening crunch. I saw Aaron and Bokane staring at me, tears running down their faces as they watched me in this helpless position. I hit the floor with a thud, followed by the jingling of armour.
"We have too high a regard for our own wellbeing. To be taught to humble, and therefore surpass ourselves, we must lose our dignity. Do you understand?" Zerg continued, continuing his endless laughter. I simply stared through him, feeling that there was nothing more he could do to me. "I see you do not. I evidently haven't proved my point, how about a more permanent reminder of this lesson is in order." He reach for a brand with the rune for "Thaum" from a basket beside the fire, before heating it in the heart of the flames. This was a step too far for me. I attempted to cry out my surrender but had the muscles in my throat paralysed with a sharp kick in the throat. I attempted to get up and fight but was stomped upon, being held to the ground by Zerg's weight. He slowly pushed the brand towards my forehead. I, in a desperate frenzy grabbed the shaft of the brand and attempted to push it back. "Go ahead worm, squirm like your wizard friend did! Squirm!" He cried maniacally, all the time laughing that cold, cruel laugh.
Then, just as the brand was about to reach the skin of my forehead, the world exploded for a second time that night.
part 2:The Carnival
The twang of mandolins and the glow of lamps set the scene for the great carnival. Rose petals and weak rain-drops fluttered down in the light wind, landing on my cheeks as a butterfly does; with grace and delicacy. Even the drizzle couldn't dampen the jovial feeling of the day. The Fireworks went off in that black velvet blanket of a sky, showering the city with sparks of richest gold, blue and white. Banners hung shamelessly from the windows and from house to house. Posters emblazoned the walls and paints adorned the faces of the peasants. All carried the same crest, the golden cross and blue and white colours of the True Court. The speech made by Jeb on this fabled night had sent the people into a frenzy of patriotism. I, despite my Thaumic roots was greatly affected by the speech, taking pride in the part I had played in the tale he told. He told of the Battle of Zine Craft, or, the Month of Revelations as many had chosen to name it.
Zine Craft was eleven years ago to the day. Tonight was the celebration of the Battle for Zine Craft, part of last week of the Annual Gathering. The Annual Gathering was the closest thing the land had to a parliament. The leaders of all the included Crafts and Great Families would attend to debate issues of importance for one month. At the top of the agenda was the problem of Dominus, who was gathering support for a full-scale invasion of the Vanilla Craft and his instatement as an Administrator. It was mad, but what scared me was that people were listening to him.
None of this came to my mind however as I and the others watched a travelling Thaumic magician blow into a ball of light, spraying harmless purple fire over the crowd. Then a bit of old Western Thaumic folk music came on (similar to that you might associate with gypsies) and he start a form of rhythmic juggling routine with fire-balls of various colours. As it progressed it grew faster and faster, and the fireballs began to blur into a strange multi-coloured ring. Then the illusionist clapped his hands together over his head and the ring disappeared altogether. He then blew into his palms and out came a fiery dragon of shimmering blue and white, with a gold cross on its chest. It was the symbol of the True Court of Mojang, this was a sign of extreme patriotism.
Then the little party was crashed. Eight men in the garb of Inquisition soldiers showed up, surrounding the poor illusionist's caravan. The illusionist's normally cheerful old wife retreated to the caravan, hurrying their children inside, face contorted with terror. Then out of the crowd stepped Hamish. My eyes widened as I saw my enemy in the crimson armour of The Inquisition, a few of his goons mixed in with assumedly real Mojang soldiers. I was incredulous of how they could allow such a blatant Endling into the Inquisition (half of his face being covered with the coal-black skin of an Endling, along with a glassy purple eye). Then I remembered that most veterans of the Great Onslaught had sustained burn wounds similar to the skin of an Endling from encounters with the Endlings. Hamish could just claim to be a burn victim as he had been a plant in the Mojang army during the Onslaught. He gave me a smug look before turning to the trembling magician, who was being restrained by two burley soldiers, including the man who's jaw I dislocated on the train a week prior.
Hamish spoke with his thick Southern outland accent (which sounds like a mix between Welsh and Scottish). "Papers?" There was a machine-like dryness in his voice.
"Sorry, what?" came the trembling, high voice of his victim.
"Your papers? Where are they?" The rise of rage in Hamish's voice barely hid the satisfaction he evidently held in tormenting this man.
"Ah! Yes..." The magician fumbled in his pocket for a piece of paper. He held it out and Hamish snatched it away grumpily.
"Hang on. This has expired." Hamish was relishing his position now, enjoying every last corrupt moment of it.
"B-but I got it renewed just two weeks ago! W-when did it expire?" The magician was in a state of mania now. I wanted to go out and break Hamish's snide little jaw.
"As of now." He, smirking from ear to ear took the papers and tore them in half, throwing them into the damp gutter amidst the cobbled stones. He turned to his gang of thugs and shouted. "Burn the place to the ground. If the family doesn't leave by the time I count to ten do not let them out. One. Two. Three."
The Mother began to hurry her children out as the fires started. There were cries of terror from the peasants, then they seemed to have a moment of realisation and they began to cheer on Hamish and his men. Hamish’s smug face was menacingly lit by the orange flames. The magician gaped in horror as his livelihood went up in flames. Then he turned and faced Hamish with a fiery glare. "You're a monster." It was all he could say in his rage. He was trembling with fury all over. His face was so red it was a wonder he wasn't giving off steam as the rain spattered it.
"If you say so." Hamish's smirk was sickening enough, let alone the fact that the crowd began to cheer at this remark. He lifted the cane he was leaning on up and knocked the man's bowler hat off, revealing a bald, wrinkled head with small grey tufts of hair appearing around the edges. "Pick it up." His voice was that of cruel kindness. The old man maintained his glare. "Pick. It. up." Hamish tried again, anger rising in his voice as it had in the old man’s voice. Still no response. The crowd had fallen into a disgusted silence. But it was not directed at Hamish, but at the old magician. "PICK IT UP!" Hamish punched him square in the jaw. The old man looked like he was about to strike back but then saw the soldiers around him reach for their weapons.
He grudgingly bent over to pick up the soggy hat. However as he began to rise to a standing position again he was cracked on the side of the head by Hamish's cane. The old man's head crunched into the ground, and a small trickle of blood began flowing from the corner of his mouth. Hamish kicked him in the gut and his victim emitted a whimper. "Take him and his family down to the chapter house. Charge them with lack of papers, illegal use of Thaumic magic, and refusal to cooperate with scheduled inspections."
The crowd let out a cheer as the guards began to drag the magician and his screaming family away. I reached for my blade and readied to draw it. However, before it could be withdrawn, I felt someone place a robust hand on my shoulder and a familiar voice whispered "Not now young Mandy. The time is not yet nigh." I turned, to find no one behind me, and a feeling that something had just been pressed deeply into my pocket. I turned and Hamish was gone. The crowd had started chanting one slur or another and followed Hamish to the prison. Another chance wasted.
I cursed under my breath and looked around, searching for my comrades. No sign of anyone. However as I turned I noticed a familiar face sitting laxly at a table in front of a bar. There sat the administrator, Void, gazing calmly at me, a cigar in his left hand and dressed in tattered grey robes.
I shoved through the crowd to the old administrator. Pulling out a wooden chair I sat down opposite him. I spoke first. "Has following me become a trend or something? It seems that everyone wants to do it. Viral; Hamish; Ryan; I'm pretty sure I've seen a few blokes from the Brotherhood following me too." My voice was pointed but lax enough to dispel any idea of direct complaint.
Void chuckled and leant forward. "Look behind you.” He whispered. “You see the young blond bloke in the blue suit? The one failing at being inconspicuous in every possible aspect?" I turned to see the man accidentally knock over a stack of chicken crates he had been hiding behind and hide behind a fish merchant's stall.
"Yes." I was struggling to suppress laughter.
"He's been following you for four hours straight. He obviously works for someone. I was supposed to meet someone here but they have been held up. I was wondering if you were up to doing some work for the Craft?"
"Always ready. I'll be on it right away." My excitement at having an important job to do was evident.
"Hang on. You'll need more than one person. I want someone to follow Hamish who won't attempt to gut him at the first possible opportunity."
"You're in luck, Cossack just arrived. HEY! COSS! Get over here." He turned to face me avidly. Then he saw the presence of Void and his face fell, feeling that his brief leisure was about to end.
"Yes Kay?" He asked drolly.
"Tell Brit and Gracey that they are to follow Hamish. I'm sure they'll appreciate their first assignment as agents of the Kingdom." I stated kindly.
Cossack's face lightened and he asked "Any chance of more information?"
"Once we carry this out maybe. For now just have a good time. Enjoy the carnival."
"Okay Kay. I'll see you later. Try not to die." Chuckled Cossack.
"Well, you've now got one of the finest spies and one of the finest pick-pockets I have at my disposal on Hamish's tail. And I will follow the man you pointed out. Not bad eh Void?" There was silence as I stared at the sky. "Void?" I turned my head and he was gone. I cursed under my breath. "Can't he just say when he's going to leave instead of doing the whole mystical vanishing act to make me feel stupid?" Thought I grumpily.
I waited for about twenty minutes, attempting to appear inconspicuous. The man in blue remained, always staring. I was about to confront him when he checked his watch, appeared startled, and began walking away at a brisk pace. That was my cue to move. I got up casually and followed the man. I was glad to be on the hunt again, getting back to my days as an informant. That's what I was, dress me up with whatever title you like. Airman. General. Criminal. King. It didn't matter at all to me. I had always been an informant at heart and that's what I would always end up being. The eyes and ears of your enemy. The man in the shadows. The fly on the wall. The leech on your heel.
That's when he looked back and saw me. He pushed past a man in a brown cloak - probably some sort of monk - and broke into a run. I sprinted after him, bumping into the man in the brown cloak briefly, knocking him down. I turned and offered quick apologies as his hood fell back to reveal a proud looking grey-haired old man with a handle-bar moustache, slicked back hair and an arrogant scowling face. He looked a tad bit posh for a monk but then again, many members of the Great Houses were heavily religious, and it was not unheard of for them to become monks in their later years (if only as a political move). I began to run again as he offered me the traditional obscenities of angry monks. He grabbed my sleeve briefly in an attempt to stop me but I shook him off easily and ran onwards.
Our chase continued for the next two streets, us pushing through crowds and dodging various (almost comic) obstacles, including; an old lady; two men carrying a sheet of glass across the road; a man with a ladder who liked turning around way too quickly and a falling safe. All the while the rain thickened, to the point where thunder began booming, and lightning flashed with terrifying gusto. Then, as I drew close to my prey, it turned and fled down an alleyway. I stopped as quickly as I could, tripping and falling on the damp, slippery cobblestones. I pulled myself up and pushed through a few revellers to follow him. He led me on a chase down four sub-alleyways and then I was able to catch him as he ran into a dead end.
Before him was a brick wall about 6 foot high. I stopped, drew Amicus, pointed it at him and shouted "Stop in the name of Gaia!" as authoritatively as I could. However, instead of surrendering to my absolute awesomeness, he attempted (fruitlessly) to climb the wall. I leisurely strolled up and tugged him down, causing him to gasp for air as he slammed face-first into the ground. I turned him over, placed my foot on his stomach and crouched, pulling him up by the collar of his now sullied white shirt. Rain fell on his face in globules, giving a blotchy quality to it. He wheezed, looking defeated. His blond fringe was stained with blood from an open wound on his forehead. His flattened nose allowed a constant stream of red to flow from the right nostril. He wheezed, looking defeated.
I punched him across the jaw. "Who do you work for?" I asked as coldly as I could. For a moment he looked like he was about to break, then he began laughing in a triumphant manner. I punched him again and was about to reiterate the question when something hard and metal struck me in the side of the head. My legs buckled and I fell off of the informant.
I saw the crowbar fall with a clatter beside me as I lay in a total daze. I saw a burley looking man pick up the informant and walk off with him. I felt warm blood flow from my mouth onto the damp disgusting cobblestones. I lifted my head drowsily. There were 4 grey blurs of men were standing over me, holding crude clubs and shivs. One of them stood our from the crowd, for his face shone white. Then my vision cleared slightly, and I saw a familiar quartz mask. "Hello Kay. We have some unfinished business to attend to." Came a disturbingly familiar voice.
Part 4:Behind the Mask
I struggled against my bonds like a cat would when you attempt to give it a bath; ungraciously; without dignity; lashing out and spitting at anything that came near. They had left me in the room a few minutes ago, with the instruction to wait for their boss, whom I assumed to be the man with the white mask. I personally was sceptical of it being Starletts, however I was not dismissing the possibility of it being him just yet. They had fooled us with the fake Ray trick before, and it wasn't unlikely that they'd do the same for him. For all I know the little fiasco at Aegis just a few weeks prior had just been an elaborate ruse to remove Ray from the picture.
I continued to wrestle with my bonds and I must say, they pinned me every round. The fact that I was tied to a wheelchair was making the process even more irritating, with me constantly rolling back and forth. Then I twisted my wrist inwards, attempting desperately to pick open the bonds. That's when my wrist spasmed in pain and warm blood rolled down from the bottom of my palm. I fumbled with my numb fingers and found that someone had slipped a small razor blade into the cuff of my sleeve. Whether this was intended or not it was still a blessing. I tugged it out and began to saw at my bonds. I was so jovial I didn't question who could have done it, dismissing it on an old habit I had developed before the Onslaught. Back when I was conspiring against Worth I had taken to hiding razor blades in my sleeves so that should a guard find me and catch me by the sleeve, he would have an unpleasant surprise.
We were in some sort of church bell-tower, with the pale light of dawn shining through a light mist. I based this assumption on the stained glass windows; and a large brass chime hanging over a hole in the floor. Behind me there was a small wooden trap door, accessed by a rickety old ladder. Circling the tower was a small, automated hydrogen balloon telling people to, "Join the army, for God and Empire!" I scoffed for two reasons. For starters they were using hydrogen balloons, a highly volatile contraption with a tendency to burst into flames. The other reason was that Jeb still had his people believing that they had an empire. The domain of the True Court was a loose conglomeration. They had very little direct control aside from the admittedly sizable territory of Mojang in the centre of their influence; a few military bases in the Outlands; a large Naval/Air force base on the Arcadian Peninsula; and the remains of Zine Craft, which were off limits to the public.
Then the door swung open and out walked my captor. Quartz mask shining and purple cape flowing he stood in front of me. In his right hand he clasped the sheathed Amicus. In his left he pointed my perk at the head of its master. To his right was a burley looking bloke holding a black sulphur lamp in a dangerously clumsy manner. I don't understand the exact chemistry of it, but just about anything made these lamps go boom. "Hello Kay." Said that familiarly high voice.
"Hello Quintus." Replied I.
"How did you guess?" He responded. Plainly taken aback.
"You still have that bloody tattoo on your wrist. I don't know anyone else who has a tattoo of their ex-wife's severed head on their wrist, with the caption "Wishing you ill"." I criticised.
Quintus pulled back his hood and mask to reveal greying black hair, and a wrinkled face with purple tribal tattoos. His pale face was sombre and lifeless. The mask clattered sadly to the floor. Everything about him looked defeated. Silence had entered the tower, and stayed, relishing its good work.
"Why were you wearing that ridiculous mask? You scared me half to death. I thought you were a slightly less dangerous psychopath for a second there." Jested I, attempting to break silence's grip on the room. I successfully freed us, for Quintus laughed almost longingly. However his death-like appearance returned swiftly and he spoke.
"It is a monument to all my sins," He looked at it, voice trembling as he did so. He sounded like he was both terrified and in horrible pain. Then his eyes filled with decided rage and he smashed it underfoot. "And a mark of my slavery no longer." There was an unexplainable mix of iciness and triumph in his voice as he stared at the powdered remains. He looked like he was about to continue on an equally mysterious note so I stopped him.
"Is there a purpose for this pleasant outing or are you just hear to monologue symbolically?" My tone was dry. Hopefully dry enough to make him get to the point.
He was about to speak when the trapdoor opened again. Out came the informant whom I had chased down roughly, lets say four hours earlier. He wore a bandage on his forehead and his hair was still dirty. He opened his mouth and said this, "Sir, the Inquisition are on their way. Their being led by the Endling."
Quintus was almost as panicked as I was. Hamish finding me in a vulnerable position was not ideal. I began to saw through again, not caring who saw. Quintus stammered. "Er... Y-y-you get back to the warehouse. We'll m-meet you th-there in t-t-two days." He smiled as confidently as he could before nodding to the boy to leave.
He cursed angrily the second the child was out of sight. "No. Its too early! There isn't enough time." He turned to me. "Guarantee to me that I will be remembered as a hero." There were tears of rage in his eyes.
"What?" He struck me, and crouched down, pulling me up to face him by the scarf.
"GUARENTEE IT!" He was like an animal.
"Yes..." I mumbled uncomfortably, breaking free of my bonds and trying to push him back gently.
His vision seemed to clear and a single tear trickled down his withered face. He pressed a small scroll into my hand. "Finish the fight." Then something ricocheted off the chime, letting out a great clang. Whatever it was then struck Quintus in the side of the head.
As his legs buckled I grabbed Amicus from his side and ran at the window, batting the thug to the side. I crashed out, shielding my face wish my arms. Before I knew it my arms were coated in open wounds as fragmented glass cut into them. Then, as I crashed into the balloon, the lamp was shattered, and the tower engulfed in flames. The balloon was sent careening towards the graveyard due to a mix of both my weight and the forced of the blast. The back of my shirt was singed by flames and torn by glass.
Then, just as my feet began to brush the ground, I let go. After rolling briefly I jumped behind the nearest tombstone. I waited for the bang, covering my ears with my hands and tucking my form in behind the grave Thankfully, as the balloon crashed into the ground, the hydrogen inside did not catch fire and cause the balloon to burst. I allowed myself a sigh or relief.
I looked over to the right, and could just make out a group of men in scarlet uniforms. Hamish had gathered up the remains of Quintus' gang, organising a firing squad. They weren't using bows or muskets, as per tradition, but simply four men with "smelters" as they were called. Smelters were one of the strange ancient weapons of the True Court, a closely guarded secret that no-one quite understood, not even the divines anymore. All we did know was that they were built like small battering rams; spat blue fire that surpassed the temperatures generated by the black fireballs from Astro and Bokane's notes; and that they could basically melt a man in a few minutes. Hamish did the traditional count from three (smiling sadistically as he did so) and the men were engulfed in blue flame. Hamish's darkly happy face was illuminated in blue light through the fog. There was a series of shouts and then the flames stopped.
Hamish had given the gesture his men to stop while the men were still rare. Most of them were still alive, groaning and crying in agony. Hamish stood over them chuckling, so giddy that he was practically dancing with glee at his good work. Then, as he proceeded to stomp on the dying men, I reluctantly staggered off, hoping to find my way back to the Gaian encampment.
Okay, here's where parts get obscenely long. The second half of Chapter 3, entitled A Double-edged Blade is here. Probably going to have to cut it up due to really long parts.
Chapter 3: A Double-Edged Blade
Part 5:A meeting
I sat on the stool stiffly, still blood occasionally dripping down my back as ABB clumsily attempted to stitch me up. It wasn't ideal, I was in a lot of pain and ABB obviously wasn't the most artful at what she was doing. However, she was the best field medic we could muster; without calling in some doctor from the civilian encampment outside the city who would charge lavish amounts for confining me to a room for weeks on end. She got the job done and usually did it well enough.
I spared a moment to take in the room. The morning sun sneaked in through the iron bars at the back of the room, only daring to illuminate the edges of the door in its efforts to remain undetected. The room had once been a kitchen, but was now ABB's private surgery. With cupboards
Then Cossack burst into the room, with Brit, Gracey, Tejmin and Mini following him. At this ABB jumped, painfully tearing the skin and letting another rush of blood to let loose. I groaned in pain.
"Oh be quiet Kay." ABB scolded. "I've branded pigs that squealed less than you."
I smiled wryly and turned my head as far as I dared. "And I've encountered creepers with better hand-eye coordination."
The party of men had just entered chortled at the exchange of insults. When ABB finished her work and went to clean her utensils I looked up at them and inquired. "Are my orders being carried out properly?"
"Well we executed four vagrants if that's any help?" Cossack replied.
"What?!" I asked shocked, spitting out the milk that I had conveniently been drinking. "Cossack if you've been on one of your anti-poor tirades agai-"
"Kidding!" Cossack cried nervously "Kidding..." He then muttered something to Tejmin that sounded a lot like, "Make it look like an accident." At this Tej scowled and thumped him.
"So yes. We have started acting out your orders. I sent out the order to keep tabs on Hamish. However, as yet he isn't up to his usual tricks. He's sadistic and murderous yes, but those men you saw him murder were all unregistered Southern Thaums, all issued a death warrant by Dinner Bone himself."
"In Notch's name is there anything that man isn't able to cock up!" I burst out in anger.
"On the bright side." Tejmin interjected. "The Order are on top form, all are equipped with the new light-weight bronze armour and the old rubbish is fetching a decent price on the market. Also, recruitment is going well, received five new people willing to serve in the Order." Tejmin was a personal friend of Key's, who had jumped ship and formed a close bond with Linx. However, despite his excellence, he was constantly outshone by his friends. As Linx was on vacation he was especially eager to prove himself as an effective leader in the eyes of myself and the Council.
"You're Key and Linx's friend aren't you? Tejmin?" I inquired casually.
"Yes sir." Tej was obviously pleased at being recognised.
"You were also friends with Dawz weren't you?"
He hung his head sadly. "Yes sir. We knew each other for but a short time, yet he made a lasting impact on me."
"I'm sorry, he was a good man. I'm told you are too. Do him proud in your service." I said reassuringly, smiling gently.
"Thank you sir." His spirits picked up a little.
"Now, you are dismissed."
He bowed lightly and left. I felt a true sense of pity. Dawz had been a loss to all of the Order but I knew the story with Tej and Dawz. Tej, not being a true Gaian experienced a lot of prejudice from the other members of the Order. Prior to that the Order had been "pure". Tej was the first foreign member other than Linx but, unlike Linx, he had not saved all of their rear ends and survived a 100ft drop into the fires of hell. Dawz had been the only one to extend the hand of friendship and fend off those who sought to torment his new-found friend. He had sworn vengeance when Dawz was slain at the Great Forum. He seemed to have dropped this since the capture of Starletts but it was still a good idea to keep him away from any information concerning the Overlord.
I turned to the others, eager to find out what was happening with my other orders. "Brit, you next. Any leads on the sniper?" I had placed him in charge of this because he was the new chief armourer. He had also brought a large number of experimental fire-arms into the city with him, as well as a large database of True Court military records he had stolen during the Onslaught. He was also a renowned bounty hunter and private eye. If anyone could determine who this mysterious sniper was, it was him. A thin wiry man in a pale cream suit, stepped forward.
"We have a pretty good idea of the circumstances." His voice was gruff and his great black handle-bar moustache crinkled as he spoke. "There was a sniper on the roof of a courthouse at least 200 imperial metres away. There's only four makes of weaponry I know of that could 'ave made that shot. Two are of me and Gracey's design. Another, is Lord Dinner Bone's personal hunting rifle (I'd love to get my hands on that). The last, is a personal signature from a group of elite sharp-shooters that served under direct command from Notch durin' the Onslaught. Une moment." He took a pause and rummaged delicately (or at least as delicately as one can when they rummage) in the satchel he always kept at his side.
"Do you need any help?" Mini asked helpfully, but Brit shook his head in an irritable manner.
Then the edge of a profile folder appeared. I saw the name "Hank Redmond" appear on the edge as Brit delicately slid out the folder. "God he's awfully precious about his stash. Does he intend to be buried with it or something?" I thought impatiently.
"Here." He laid the file open in my lap. "Hank "Husk" Redmond. Was the best damn sniper at Mojang's disposal in the Onslaught. Last person with sufficient skill to use such a weapon with that level of efficiency left from that squad."
"I know that name." I interjected, puzzled. My eyebrows furrowed in concentration as I tried to remember where I had heard the name.
"You should. He tried to kill Herobrine. You," He put special emphasis on the last word. "Took the bullet."
"Ah yes..." I rubbed the ragged scar on my side as I remembered the incident in question.
"On the 14th January, 1864 P.G.T (Prior to the Great Taint), he was blinded by a flash mine during the reclaiming of Arcadia. He never recovered, and blamed the True Court for his injury due to bad intelligence. He spent the remaining two years of the Onslaught in a desk job, 'e was awarded two medals afterwards by Jeb himself." He sighed in an irritated manner as if he couldn't believe what happened next. "He very publically refused the awards and gravely insulted Jeb. After this he was dishonourably discharged. Then he went to retired in the Vanilla Craft. Thing is, he never reached the Craft. He vanished on the border." He looked up at me and I at him. "A few months later Huskers, the blind prophet, surfaced."
"You've got to be bloody kidding me Brit!" I burst out in irritation, spreading my arms in a defeated manner. "Another Complex? Is there anything else I should know about? How do you even know its Huskers"
He looked reluctant to continue and gestured to an uncomfortable looking Gracey, who was tugging his collar nervously. Gracey made silent protest but gave in when Brit gave him one of his now famous glares. He stepped forwards nervously, mop of brown hair hanging low over his right eye and his goatee seeming to cling onto his narrow chin for dear life.
His voice had a hint of reluctance and grumpiness. "Hamish and the Family are working together. Huskers was there. I saw them."
Panic shot through me. My mortal enemy and a group of psychopathic military specialists working together was a concept I just couldn't bring myself to fully believe. I tried to change the subject as swiftly as possible.
"What did the note say Mini?" He seemed a little taken aback by the sudden question. In hindsight I couldn't really blame him, it was rather out of the blue. "Out with it boy!" I snapped more harshly than I would have liked.
Mini looked ever so slightly crestfallen at this sudden outburst but recomposed himself quickly, straightening his cravat as he did so. "Which one?"
"What do you mean which one?"
"The one Quintus gave you? Or the one we found rammed into your pocket? They're both quite interesting." He looked smug at his mild advantage over me.
"First the one Quintus gave me. We'll deal with the mystery letter after."
"Well its an address, with the message "Hope this is useful XOXO" written down." Mini smiled, biting his bottom lip as if he were getting to the punch line of a particularly clever joke.
"Send the Order to deal with that. But first tell me was seems to amuse you so before your head explodes."
He pulled out a second note and smoothed out the creases holding the paper back as far from him as he could. As he read he held his held back so as to squint down his nose in a dignified manner. He then began to read in as regal a manner as he could.
"Yo um, 'sup Kay? Im... uh... like... alive? Yeah that's the word. Alive. So yeah, you can stop worrying now... er... Meet me on that bridge in lower Arcvale after the council session in two days? I'll have some info that's, um, useful to you I guess... Yeah...
Regards,
Astro Joe"
I saw Gracey wiping a tear from his left eye in awe of the beauty of the words. I could hardly contain myself. After a moment's disbelief I leapt up, struck a triumphant pose, yelling "YES!" at the top of my lungs. I then proceeded to embrace Mini in a vice-like grip, jumping up and down in glee, continuing my cry. Mini, taken aback at my sudden outburst. He staggered back to the hallway, about to fall backwards when two highly startled guards came and prised me off of the gasping Mini. Then Aaron and Pi Thingey marched up looking confused.
Giddy with excitement I started stammering nonsensically at Aaron. The way his eyebrows raised and his face contorted in confusion suggests that it was even worse than even I remember it. Thankfully, Mini put it bluntly "Astro is coming. He's meeting us in two days."
At this, Aaron's arms shot into the air and he began to run around the encampment screaming the same cry I had let out just moments prior. Laughing at his antics as he shoved through a group of indignant order members, Pi collected himself and stated that "The escort is waiting for you King Mandy. A luxury carriage and 12 of The Void's finest fighters. Equipped in the toughest leather our limited budget can buy. I trust you will find it comfortable." He bow slightly as he spoke.
"Excellent Pi." I grinned ear to ear as I spoke. From the ground I raised myself, placing a hand firmly on Pie T's shoulder. "Give me a minute will you? Need to give some last minute orders."
He smiled and retorted. "I understand. You always were fond of that."
I chuckled heartily and turned to Cossack. "Tell Secret and Small to go to that address with ABB and the Companions. I want a full report of that building and its contents by the time I return." Cossack nodded and rushed off. "ABB you are to rally the companions for duty, you're back in action." ABB leapt for joy and followed Cossack's path. Gracey and Brit were next. "Check our arsenal, make sure nothing's been removed unduly. Also, check with Bokane and Aaron what the odds of a Hydrogen balloon not exploding after a large explosion and slamming into the ground with a man clinging on to one for dear life." Brit furrowed his thick, bushy eyebrows.
"Mechanics aren't my area of expertise Kay, but I'm fairly certain that's impossible." He sounded stunted in thought, as if something didn't quite add up.
"Quite." I responded as disinterestedly as I could as I pulled on a fresh shirt and my old scarf. The cotton felt warm against my soft skin. The sun finally stirred itself fully from its drowsiness and snuck in the windows, attempting to pretend we had simply imagined its absence as it flooded the room with light. "Well I must be off lads. I'll see you later."
A few minutes later Pi and I were standing in front of the old boarding school, which we had made into our base of operations. It had once been a central feature in this mournfully derelict part of the city, but abandoned due to gang violence during the Onslaught. Once the school left the entire district became virtually deserted and had not yet been renovated by Jeb. As a result Cossack saw fit to base the Gaian encampment in the area, stimulating the local economy, recruiting some new soldiers, renovating buildings, dealing with the gangs and generally cleaning the place up. Yes there were still some shattered windows and derelict buildings, the place still smelled weird and there was the occasional clash between drunken Gaians and the remnants of the local gangs. The proud brick walls of the orphanage shone red in the sunlight. A cool breeze ran through the school-yard in front of that mighty building. The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with small cotton clouds. The Tower of Mojang stood tall against the sunlight, its mighty quartz frame making it look like a pillar of white flame, as the airships floated around it like moths circling a lamp.
All over the courtyard the Gaians bustled two and fro. Men clad in bronze and steel shifted crates from the forge to the storehouse. In the forge men with hammers pounded strips of metal into shape as sweat trickled from their hazy faces. Workers in overalls waterproofed the wooden walls of the "Citadel" as it was called. The walls were not much, simply barricades made of various wooden objects from the city dump. I saw flies swarming around the wagon from which they sorted out the rotting wood from the sturdy material. By the stables filled with neighing steeds was the carriage, and six armoured horses mounted by warriors of the steel-clad warriors of The Void.
The door of the carriage swung open to reveal four more warriors, all armed and ready. The interior was lavish with fine red leather and black painted wood. Pi and I climbed in. I was evidently more enthusiastic than they anticipated. For they were all eying me uncomfortably as I practically beamed. It wasn't that I was happy about where we were going, but the message had certainly gotten my spirits up. However I did mellow slightly and the uncomfortable feeling eased. Pi and I even managed to strike up some small-talk about the political situation at present.
Yet even this subsided. The reason, the city around us. The carriage had its curtains open to reveal both the splendour and the misery of Mojang, that fabled Holy City. Yes, there were the smiling faces; the constant revelry; the most wonderful minstrels in the streets; the sun like an orb of pure gold; the airships soaring high above; the Tower and all its secrets standing over the city like a great sentinel. However, there were also the many dark sides of Jeb's rule. Impoverished districts of the city were common, and the beggars of them littered the streets of the rich areas. The Inquisition was running rampant, enacting very public evictions of suspected unregistered Thaums. Gang violence between the cities various visiting factions was widespread, and the police did nothing in fear of provoking any of the visiting delegations.
Then we came within view of our target, the Tower of Mojang. Outside was a rabble of Dominus' supporters, protesting that Jeb was keeping Void protected within the Tower's walls. It hadn't taken long for Dominus to find where Void and his Moderators were holed up, and sent men to smash up the area, arrest Void, kidnap civilians and generally be massive douche bags. Due to the high numbers of civilian casualties Void asked Jeb to give him and the moderators asylum in the Tower. Dominus was outraged at this and continued to send soldiers not just to Void's old encampment to punish the "traitorous" residents for their "crime" of giving Void shelter; but also to the Tower to protest for Void's extradition.
As we approached the gates the crowd began to flock to us like a swarm of angry flies, seeing the word "Void" written on the banner hanging from the side of the carriage. Within seconds they were quite pointlessly trying to open the doors, pounding them like wood-peckers. We laughed at this but Pi drew the line when some took a woodcutter's axe to the door. He stuck his torso out the open window, shaking about the "emergency-piece-of-prop-comedy-croquet-mallet" and shouting " off! This is a rental!"
As he said this the people below saw their opportunity to "kick some ass for Dominus!" as the posters he'd pasted around the city instructed them to do. These posters portrayed Dominus shaking hands with an average man kicking a hideous creature evidently meant to portray Void up the ****. N.B. Bokane led an entertaining expedition to track down these posters and replace them with a parody version entitled "Lick Dominus' ****! Because he said so!"
So yes, Pi was being dragged out the window. After a few minutes tug of war with Pie as the rope I got fed up and cheated. I pulled out the perk strapped to my wrist and fired two shots past Pie's right ear, causing the rabble to scatter in fear and for us to pass through relatively unharmed (save a few squashed tomatoes clinging to the side of the carriage).
I stepped out and with Pi began to walk towards the Tower dungeons. I must admit I was expecting something much different, much more clichéd as we filled out the necessary papers and were given the numbers of the prison cells we were to visit. I was expecting a dark, dry dungeon, with walls of roughly hewn stone blocks. I expected rats to scuttle through the hallways, and for the air to stink of suffering. I expected to hear the screams of the tormented through iron bars as guards indiscriminately tortured them. I expected the halls to be lit by the fires of hell themselves and for the sheer enjoyment of the sadistic, warped beings that were the guards. What we saw was much worse.
As opposed to the dry, dirty, uneven stone corridors we were greeted by sterile, uniform corridors of a blindingly radiant white metal. The air, as opposed to being foul, smelled of disinfectant to a sickening extent. As opposed to rats, sombrely posed, strangely blurred beings in white robes which seemed to glide in a ghostly man up and down the hallways. This was odd as they were moving at walking speed. The iron bars were replaced by thick glass windows, some of which had great iron sheets with letterbox-like slits in them clamped down in front. The warped, hunched over beings had been substituted by about a total of four Mojang soldiers who looked far more relaxed than you'd expect. The fires instead were strips of ethereal light. However, there was one thing I got right, and even that was under-estimated. From all over the corridor came the muffled shrieks of the tormented. I tried and fail to suppress a shiver.
We walked down the hallways searching for the two cells to little avail. However, on the way I saw something familiar that was both uplifting and depressing. In a completely white room slumped a shrivelled, pale-faced man with red eyes in tattered black robes. He was chained by the arms and neck to the walls, murmuring nonsensically to himself and rocking. In his ruby glass eyes was a look of both terror and malice. His gold buttons were sullied and his white skin cracked and wrinkled like old plaster. He was dangerously thin and bony as a skeleton. His mouth had those familiar scars, which made it look like the scowl of a creeper. "How the mighty have fallen..." contemplated I. All around him were strange, blurry, faceless creatures that looked familiar. I was confused at first, but then I realised that these creatures were all around me, gliding up and down the corridors. Then the old pale-faced traitor's head shot bolt upright. Israphel had seen me.
He then began to scream something that sounded strangely like "MAKE THE VOICES STOP LAP-DOG! DO IT! MAKE THEM STOP!" Pi and I recoiled from the door as he attempted to rush at us, being stopped mere inches from the door by his bonds, and the faceless creatures. He continued to rant and rave and I continued to back away. An irritated looking guard strutted up to the door. He turned to me and said this "Why did you have to him off? How did you even do it? He hasn't been this mad since Herobrine last visited. Now we have to... discourage him. Its never very pleasant for any of us."
He murmured grimly into his sleeve something about needing "discouragement" in cell whatever. In a few seconds, the chains lit up with red lightning and the skeletal figure began to stiffen as it shot through his veins. He let out a blood-curdling shriek, and then the lightning stopped flowing and he slumped once more. Smoke rose from his body and his putrid breath began to fog up the windows. Then the iron sheet came down and we saw no more of him.
"Terribly sorry." The guard said. "He must have thought you were someone else."
"Oh no." I responded. "He simply recognised me."
The guard seemed taken aback. "Y-You were at Zine Craft?"
"Yes. I am Kay Mandy, ex-commandent of Herobrine's 10th Legion." I saluted as I spoke for the heck of it. I don't know why, I just felt like it.
The guard chuckled exasperatedly. "Wow. That explains a lot. You must recount your tales to me sometime." A note of scepticism entered his voice in the last two sentences.
"I would be glad to. And to present evidence. What is your name?"
"Thomas sir." He stood to attention, saluting as he did so. "Thomas Bone. Others call me T-Bone. Under-appreciated matron of this glorified mad-house."
I chortled. "You'll do well. You know, we could use a man like you in Gaia's house." I handed him a crudely made business card that for some reason I thought was a good method of recruitment. "Check us out when you have the time."
He smiled appreciatively. "I'll look into it. Now if you will my commanding officer is calling me."
And thus we parted. Pie and I walked down a few more corridors and then arrived at our destination. Outside was one of those faceless creatures, like all of its brethren it seemed almost dazed. touched the door and we walked in. Sitting there was a man in white hospital robes and with a wild brown mop of hair and beard. He sat on a bunk, seeming to be very deep in thought about his feet. He turned his head and saw me entering. He smiled sadly.
"Hello Kay." Came his hoarse voice.
"Hello Ray." Came my own.
"I assume either Huskers has indirectly attempted to kill you. And that Quintus has been slain before he could tell you the full story." He smirked at my brief moment of surprise but we both quickly recomposed ourselves. It was sad to see Ray in a position like this. I had always sort of regarded him as a nice guy, even when he tried to kill us. He was just a likeable guy and it was a pity he was in such a hell-hole.
"How did you guess." I pretended to express particular interest in my knuckles as I spoke.
"It's what I expected would happen. I told Quintus to look for you should he have doubts about his safety, or the validity of the plan." I was about to interrupt but he raised his finger and said. "Before you ask, Falcon and Starletts kept me as far into the dark as they could. All I know is the address he gave both of us, a few names and faces, and that this is going to be Falcon's "masterpiece". Now, bare in mind that I cannot, for your own safety, tell you all I know. If they believe you to have been told anything of significance then they will strike at you. Choose a very tight circle and stick too it. Do you understand." I nodded my head in solemn confirmation. He cleared his throat. "What do you wish to know?"
"The mask. What is it? Quintus and Starletts both wore one."
"Ah the mask. A good question. From what I have gathered the mask is part of something far larger than simply the Overlord or a personal statement by a bunch of loons. It seems to be part of a "grand stratagem" I have heard Dominus mention to Ellen a number of times. It is a plan developed by Dominus' family over decades, maybe even centuries. I know not of their methods, just the goal." He paused in a finalistic manner, staring at the ceiling as if lost in thought.
"And the goal is?" I prompted, gesturing for him to continue.
"Power. Complete and undisputed power over the True Court, with the Divines as his only superiors. No strings attached. A series of unconnected coincidences and accidents that results in him being in an unquestionable position of power."
I incredulously interjected. "Surely someone would notice?"
"You'd think they would." Ray mused. His eyes rolled as if I were an irritating child. Then, rubbing his hands together in nervous excitement he continued. "The idea is that people like the family do all the dirty work, and he is left completely unconnected to their work."
"That deplorable genius..." I was trembling in both awe and anger.
"Is there anything else?" He asked with sly undertones.
"Falcon? Who the hell is she?" I asked.
"Ah!" Ray burst out nervously. "If I were to tell you, Falcon would find it very easy to tell. As a result you would be found floating down the river Atlee four days from now, dead from unknown causes. However I will tell you that she was someone very dear to me. You should be able to work it out for yourself from there if those spies did anything. Now, any non-stupid questions?"
I gulped at the thought of my demise. I then contemplated for a moment and said. "One last question before I leave. The Complexes? Who are they? What can they do? Any potential weaknesses?" I hoped I came across as to the point instead of demanding but this was what I wanted to know.
Ray thought for a moment, placing a finger on his temple, and then he opened his mouth. "16 as you know is Komplex Sixteen. You know his skills all too well, and his only real weakness is that he can't back down from a fight.
15 is basically a more subtlety and opinionated version of Komplex. He's a master of killing people via creative and indirect methods. However, he never could stop running his mouth. This is Gerrit, he was exiled so you can rely on his help." My eyes widened as my old friend's name was brought up.
"14 as you know is Starletts. He is relentless and efficient; the perfect field tactician and rallying point. His weakness is his multiple-personality disorder, as well as his being really bloody stubborn. I installed him at Calais asylum to give him an alibi and to take care of the deteriorating Viral.
"13 is dead. Never joined the family. He died at the destruction of the facility.
"12 is Mini Muffin. I know right? Shocking that one of the biggest psychopaths in the history of the Vanilla Craft is one of us. He is very good with Thaumic magic and has a knack for destruction. His problem is that he over-estimates his own skill and subtlety. He is also obscenely predictable in what he'll try to do.
"11 was Palmer. He was our lead strategist. We never lost a pitched battle and no operation ever failed under his watch. He however wasn't very good at making decisions in the field. He always did think that holding a weapon in hand made him invincible. That was his downfall.
"10 is Huskers. He is an outstanding sniper, and a painfully accurate Oracle. His skill as an Oracle however is also his greatest weakness. He cannot control where and when he has visions, and goes into almost seizure like episodes when he has them. He has also developed a moral crusade to fulfil his visions, often betraying those he trusts to carry this out.
"9 is long dead. Well, we assume he is. We never found his body.
"8 is Beat. He has a strong resistance to poisons and Endling magic. However, he has a very strong phobia of corrosive poisons after a tragic accident during his days in the facility. Even though it happened before we wiped him, he never recovered. He is also an adrenalin junkie, he pushes himself too far simply for the thrill of it.
"7 died fighting 16 during his "daring" escape attempt.
"6 survived the incident in the facility, but was among those who got cold feet about joining the family. He proved an obstacle so we had him killed.
"4 and 5 may as well be one and the same. They were fraternal twins with a strong sense of sibling rivalry. Their strain of the formula gave them an even greater sense of rivalry. They hated each other, but were both outstanding speakers. So we planted them both in the positions of United Blue and Red leaders. Both of them believed the other a traitor and they both had the objective of crushing the other. So, it reached the point of war and they were called to negotiate. In order to get rid of the United Blue and Red governments, we bombed out the negotiations; even made it look like the Brotherhood did it. Dominus' rule over the ex-Blue territories was pretty total, with only the dying old powers like Calais and the Azure Tribe as vague rivals. The perfect crime..." He trailed off almost reminiscently.
This was too much for me. He was talking about having betrayed members of his own crew, people who trusted him. I moved like lightning, rising and slamming his head against the iron grill of the bed before he new what was happening. Ray crumpled to the side, gripping the back of his head. I was about to draw my blade when I heard a strange whispering. This whispering chilled me to the bone, telling me of death, of destruction, of the pain beyond the gates of death. I turned with great difficulty, to see one of the faceless creatures staring in the window, almost glaring at me. Then I noticed that its hand was phased through a terrified Pi's chest, plainly clasped around his heart. It cocked its head and the whispers cleared, and the message was plain "An eye for an eye lapdog. Tread lightly." At this I sheathed my sword grudgingly and sat back down.
Ray turned his head and glared at me. I felt the anger leave me, but the venom stayed. I attempted to apologise but only received a cold "Get the out of here. I try to help you and this is how I'm treated. You're lucky I don't tell you her name. Then we can both die happy. Ah well... I suppose he'll get you out of the way long before you find out; that's his job. NOW I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT!" I attempted to apologise again but he simply spat in my direction. Wiping the dirty liquid from my brow I stood up and left in disgust at the animal.
Pi came up to me as we walked towards the second room. He seemed most shaken from his run-in with the creature. "What the hell was that thing? It's hand just phased through my bloody chest. I hope you got something useful from Ray, otherwise this'll all feel pointless." His voice was far more indignant than it should have been, allowing me a small chuckle at his blissful ignorance of what had just happened.
"He told me all I needed to know." I said triumphant that I had drawn almost all that I needed from him. "I can't claim total success, for Falcon is still a Goddamn mystery. Also, while I learnt the names of the other Complexes, the who attacked Aaron is unknown as well. However, I now know that this Complex 3 is one of the Gaians or our allies. Also, I did learn a fair bit more about Dominus' goal than I did before. Totty was right, he's planning to gain himself title of Dictat, regent of Mojang's domain. But, he'd need one hell of a plan to succeed. And now we're onto him, so that should slow him down when he finds out. I assure you that will be as soon as Secret and co. return from that address."
"But we still don't know who Complex 3 I-" Pie very loudly remarked. I put a finger to his lips and stared coldly forward. Standing in front of us was Falcon, with the complete entourage of the Family (minus Complex 3), Unknown and Hamish. There they were, all the people Ray had described to me. Huskers was as glassy eyed as ever and his short white beard was proudly stretched around the breadth of his chin, exactly as I remembered him. Muffin was the same animal I had heard described so many times. He was hunched over, wearing a torn-up pinstriped suit, with lots of extravagant jewellery adorning him. His eyes were blood-shot, with one retina bigger than the other. His face was youthful, with a sadistic grin which reflected his broken mind. He kept wringing his hands and staring around eagerly. He stopped, staring at me. That's when Hamish jabbed him in the back saying "Move prisoner!"
I was incredulous. Hamish arresting the Family? "On what charges do you arrest them officer?" I asked Hamish pointedly, in a masked voice.
"Illegal use of Thaumic magic. Little punks set fire to the Chapter House!" He then turned, saw me and scowled. "Kay..." He growled.
"Ooh!" Burst out Muffin. "Is this the one you hate so much Falcon? Goody! I'll enjoy skinning him! Such fun times ahead. Ha-ho!" He started to do a little jig but Beat nudged him and he stopped disappointedly.
"I know." I shouted to Falcon mockingly. "Tell Big D we're onto him."
Falcon turned to glare at me. Her face was completely concealed but I could still make out the malice. "Filth." She grumbled and walked forwards. Hamish made a point of bumping into me as he and his soldiers passed.
I smiled to myself. My theory was proved. Ray was directly related to Dom's wife, Ellen, and was likely to hold her quite dear (as most of his House was dead or resentful of him). Ellen's pet name for Dominus was "Big D", judging from various visit's to the R7K bunker during the THP-R7K war. Ellen was also fiercely defensive of Dominus and had a tendency to mutter short, snide insults when her husband was insulted or threatened.
Satisfied by my triumph I sauntered with Pi down to our last destination, Starletts' cell. The sight was pitiable. On the radiant walls were various nonsensical phrases, and messy drawings. These were all drawn by a worn out stick of charcoal which lay exhausted at their boss's side. Their master lay slumped against his wretched iron framed bed, with its dirty sheets which were torn and evidently hadn't been washed since he arrived. He was in the black felt jacket and black fedora he had been wearing at Aegis. His messy black hair framed his face like the tangled vines of a rose bush. His jade green eyes darted nervously back and forth between two objects. The first was his mask, which lay expectantly at his feet. The second was a broken watch which he kept irritably checking whenever he got bored of watching his mask.
I walked in and sat down beside him, staring at the fragmented face of the watch. He seemed totally oblivious of my presence. I was about to make myself known when he spoke hoarsely. "Yes I see you Gaian. The treacherous one who changed sides in this perpetual war."
"Now listen here." I responded angrily at his jab. "I only work with the Brotherhood because I find your methods and goals contemptib-"
"Not that you imbecile! The war on time itself. The Brotherhood are only one front in it, and they one of the least important. Time has always been against me; been against man. By siding with Void you have chosen time as your ally. Only to live in fear of being stabbed in he back when its contract expires."
"Is that not the gamble every living being has to take?" I philosophically threw into the air.
"No! Time hates his friends even more so than his enemies. When time stops I will be freed. And while I roam free you will be left to roam in the darkness, abandoned by your lord and master." His voice was filled with spite as he tapped the face of the broken watch furiously. He then cried out in anger, kicking his mask across the room. "Even in its dying days time spites me!"
"I'm sure he does not mean to cause offense. He simply wises to relish the time you both have left together." My hands clapped together to keep warm. There was a strange draft in the room.
"You may mock me, but you cannot deny it." He stared fearfully at the mask, and reached out slowly to lift it. "All I have ever known." His voice sounded must old than it should have. "My identity and the mark of my slavery..."
"Oh for god's sake don't start this. I already heard this monologue from Quintus, Starletts!" I was losing my patience, this conversation was going to change from an amusing philosophy session to a bad soap-opera.
He turned, snarling. "Starletts died long ago. The scape-goat outlived his usefulness! I stand, rising from his ashes. Complex 14, the Overlord! I am lord over this land. YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS SUCH!" It was pitiable, the man was falling apart. I felt I had best leave before he completely broke down, I didn't want tormenting the insane on my record. Dom was using everything against Void at the moment; word that one of Void's followers came to gloat over a broken man. I stood up swiftly before these allegations arose.
"Well I must be getting along Starletts. Enjoy wallowing in your denial."
"Impudent fool. You speak to the rightful lord of the Vanilla Craft! When time stops you will fall, and it will be painful. I AM THE OVERLORD!" His voice was not filled with forced intimidation factor, but he genuinely believed it. I was uncertain whether to feel intimidated by or sorry for the wretch.
I walked out through the open door and he attempted to grab me. However, the sheet came down between us before he could get a proper grip. As I walked down the hall I heard him ranting and raving as he pounded on the reinforced glass. Always the same words "I am the Overlord! You will kneel before me!" Had I stayed much longer I would have heard him stop screamin. I would have seen him slump to the floor with his back against the door, with his arms folding over his knees. I would have seen and the small tear trickle down his face. I would have heard the broken croaking voice saying in little more than a whisper "I am the Overlord..." Then his bloodshot eyes fell on the shattered face of the old, discarded clockwork watch, and he fell into a mournful silence.
How I missed it eludes me to this day. Perhaps it was intrigue in his ramblings. Perhaps it was the pity I felt for him. Perhaps it was the over-abundance of confidence I felt after having gotten what I did from Ray. Even though the glass was shattered, and the weary arms lay still, the clock still ticked on between the screams of the tormented, and the laughs of the insane. Ticking. And Ticking. And Ticking. Never stopping. Just the constant ticking. Ticking down to the end...
(mini was here)
Part 6:The Long Game
The early morning fog heavily blanketed the city of Mojang, like a great silvery funeral veil masking the face of a widow. From the great chimneys of the factories, the pillars of Divine Industry, came a thick, stifling smoke. The morbid chimes of the great clock tower staggered wearily across the rooftops, their youthful energy stripped away by the cold reality of that fabled land of opportunity. Postmen strolled leisurely through the empty and silent streets, tossing their wares at the doors of their clients. Curtains were drawn tight across windows, in the hope of stopping the cold’s nightly crusade into their homes.
On the edge of the city there lay an old abandoned estate that had been owned by some charitable nobleman at some time. It was a large compound, with high walls and a sprawling expanse of mansion and greenhouses. It might have been a university at some point, or perhaps an insane asylum; perhaps both. Armed guards patrolled the cobbled pathways between the greenhouses, and the great tiled yard out front; their armour rattling slightly with every step. In their hands they held lanterns which lit the fog in an eerie orange hue. The only noise besides the rattling of armour was the hollow rush of the wind. The lights were on in what had once been the concert hall, and classical music began to play. There was the sound of classical music; the ringing noise of clinking glasses; and then the boom of hearty laughter. It echoed out almost ghoulishly over the silent night; like the whispers of ghosts from a time gone by.
Then the doors flew open, and yellow light flooded the courtyard. All turned to stare as the two burley men in suits held the great mahogany doors open, and out flew a monk in dirty brown robes. He flew about four feet and landed face-down in some filthy puddle from the torrential rain the night before. He tried to pull himself to his feet but slipped and fell again. At this the brutish crowd that had formed laughed cruelly and without remorse. They did so until the old man stepped out and shushed them with a wave of his hand. He stood in the doorway of the house, silhouetted against the dark doorframe. All that could be made out was that he wore a great grey suit, with black hair that had stylish grey streaks through it. His arms were spread wide, as if challenging the monk to come at him. He started down the steps slowing, speaking in a grim, mocking manner.
"Oh poor, poor old man. I applaud you on your bravery." The old monk pulled himself to his knees, one hand placed firmly on the ground to keep himself upright. His greyish-black moustache was dripping with a murky brown liquid. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, for great black rings sagged beneath his bloodshot, stormy grey eyes.
"Your efforts to warn the poor boy were most entertaining, however futile. Paying off Yamada to give Void's men the order to execute a group of injured rebels in front of his friend's windows was admittedly questionable. I assume you intended to convince him to take no sides in the conflict for both sides were equally evil; or something along those lines. However, the invisible spies around his base were an excellent touch! You scared his little security officer less!" He laughed hysterically, one hand clasped over his stomach, the other stroking the small beard that had become visible. "Yet failed to ward him away from any further involvement. Telling Hamish what train he was taking was a masterstroke, attempting to scare him into going into hiding. Sadly, you failed to anticipate his desire for revenge." He seemed to smirk, but his face remained firmly in shadow.
"I haven't failed yet..." The old monk was struggling to put confidence into his voice. "Void still lives. Plus I know what Quintus intends to do. Kay and the other pawns of Void will catch you out. I'm sure of it!" The last sentence was more to reassure himself than threaten his enemy.
The silhouetted man tooked a few steps back, arms raised in front of his face as if in fear. He then cried out, "Oh no!" in mock terror. He began to tremble. "I feel so scared. A relic and a lap dog hunting me! Oh the horror!" He clasped his hands over his shrouded face for a few seconds, but them his face shot back up as in realisation. "Oh wait! I forgot I already sent Huskers to get rid of Quintus and the lap dog. The Family are also unfazed; and Hamish is still little more than a slightly overzealous Inquisition officer as far as the True Court are concerned. This isn't even mentioning my many other inside men. Oh thank Notch! You had me worried there for a moment Ghostly." His smirk seemed to return, and the old Administrator of Zine Craft grimaced at him.
Ghostly clasped his staff and stood up with great effort, pointing his staff at the silhouette. He was not long for this world and he knew it. His condition had been deteriorating for months. Now as his lungs tightened and his breathing constricted, and his arms began to tremble from the sheer effort of staying upright, he spoke in his hoarse voice. "I want you to know... I-I won't be going down without a fight." Yet he still exuded the confidence he had been famed for, despite his enfeebled condition.
"Oh..." The silhouette sounded almost disappointed as he hopped backwards up the stairs. He gestured to his guards to attack and stood back to watch the fireworks reluctantly. Ghostly raised his staff high above his head, muttering inane incantations. Time seemed to slow down as the guards rushed forwards (hell it did slow down unless the guards took their fighting lessons from the Spartans in "300"). Then, just as the first blade was about to bite flesh, Ghostly slammed his ebony staff into the tiled ground. There was some sort of invisible wave that threw the guards away into the mist like mandolins being cast aside by a bored child.
Ghostly lay slumped against his staff, panting from the effort. A bead of sweat trickled down his wrinkled brow and small clouds of steam rose from his mouth like ghostly wisps. His staff was embedded firmly in the stone, the tile beneath it shattered. His eyes lay pointed blankly at the ground, watching the ripples in the puddle intently. How he had fallen; from ruler of the Zine Craft, to a pauper in over his head trying to stop a man far more powerful than he. He felt himself slip in and out of consciousness as his breath thinned even more. Then he saw the silhouetted man rise like a corpse from the grave. He straightened his tie and seemed to chuckle at Ghostly's weakness.
He felt fury course through his veins and he tugged at the staff. No good. He therefore abandoned the staff and turned to face the laughing man, glaring at him. "What do you intend to do exactly Ghostly? Confrontationally stare me to death? Even if you do make it out of here alive you won't live long. You'd have to be obscenely desperate to try and kill me. You've been too clumsy. You know how I hate goodbyes but, this is the end Ghostly. No way out."
"That's the thing you forget. It is the end. I intend to make the last chapter of my story worthwhile. Goodbye old friend." Ghostly smiled sadly and stuck out his wrist. He first held it open palm, like he were reaching out for something; then he slowly began to clasp whatever it was. Then, the silhouette stopped lasting as his ribcage came under great pressure. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees. Then, just a Ghostly was about to shatter his ribcage, he jerked forwards slightly. Then a small trickle of crimson blood rolled down his left cheek from a small pinprick of a wound. Then he fell to his knees, relinquished his grip and fell face-first into the puddle.
Then, through the murky brown ripples came the fractured image of a man with glassy blue eyes and clasping a very distinctive rifle. The silhouette took a moment to catch his breath, raising his finger in a "just a moment" gesture. Then he pulled himself to his feet, shook himself and limped towards the Blind Prophet.
"Thank you Huskers." He gave him what looked like a cool smile. "Although I'm sure you could have cut it closer."
"I'm sure I could have, then I could just take my money from your corpse and leave. You're lucky I'm an honest man." Huskers seemed to stare through the silhouetted man, as if he were looking into something far more vast and interesting; yet at the time stared deep into his soul. The silhouette struggled to suppress a shudder. His blond hair and beard were neatly trimmed and his dirty suit gave him the image of modern day prophet.
"Anyway, glad you're here. Did you kill Quintus?"
"Yes. Although I'm sure you'll be ed off that the Lap Dog escaped."
"I am." The glints that were his eyes seemed to narrow. "Well I can't quite blame you it wasn't in the contract. I would have paid you extra."
"I'm an honest man, I stick to my contracts. Plus I know for a fact that your second statement was a lie. You would have given me a pat on the back and I would be left forever wondering whether killing him was of any benefit to either of us."
The silhouette chuckled. "Well, the first part of your contract is done. Now, I want you to go and tell Jiibrael and Hamish to continue as planned, but affirm the importance of visiting the warehouse at the exact times. Also, tell her to keep an eye on Astro. He has expressed doubts to the plan, and I am sure the meeting he scheduled with Kay will develop into far more than the "nostalgic reacquainting" he led us to believe it was. If he does he is to be detained immediately."
"What do we do with him afterwards." Huskers inquired, plainly feeling annoyed at his vagueness.
"Leave him to Zerg. He should be free any moment now." He turned to face the party, smiling to himself as his plan came together.
"Make your move Void..." He said leisurely, but a hint of suppressed malice crept in. Then the windows shattered and the concert hall was engulfed in purple flame. "I've made mine." And he stood there enjoying the party; watching the flames dance, and listening to the symphony of the dying.
Part 7:A Day in the Life
I pushed through the crowd, shifting irritably as I attempted to reach Void's door. The crowd was causing quite the uproar, screaming and chanting some inane slogans. Flagons of whiskey were slamming together, the numbing liquid spilling out and coating these barbarians in some form of primitive war-paint. It was a general rabble of the upper class; every form of power-hungry git, rebellious heir and drunken businessman you could imagine gathered in one exceedingly crowded hallway. I looked around to see if there was a single sane mind left afloat in that sea of barbarism where civilisation and sacred ground meant nothing. Every here and there you'd see some sort of disgruntled nobleman or irritable servant wisely clinging to the edges to avoid being drowned. I wished I'd followed their example as I was tossed from person to person. At either end of the corridor were startled looking guards, taking nervous glances into the crowd as if unsure whether to do something or pretend that the crowd wasn't there.
They were crowded around the great, open, marble staircase, a sad reminder of where I had to go. Someone was evidently staging a soap-box speech. Probably some unimportant idiot with a sickeningly populist agenda. I thought to myself. No one will care if I just cut through and make him look like a prat in a witty manner. Then I pushed through the crowd and caught my first glimpse of the speaker. "... Well at least I was right about it being an idiot with a sickeningly populist agenda." was all I could think. Dominus was approaching the staircase with his entourage. Surrounding him were his various generals.
At his right hand was a young man (even younger than I), Jiibrael, King of the Rising Sun. He was clad in full samurai armour; never moving his hand far from his katana. His eyes were hawk-like slits, and his skin a tanned yellow. His features were defined and proud; reflecting his aloof manner. The bridge of his nose crooked and had a deep scar running across it; a harsh remind of an encounter with Komplex at the Battle of Qustom Peak. He seemed to scan the crowd for potential threats, stopping on me for a moment as if evaluating the quickest way to break my arms. Satisfied with his evaluation he continued on, nudging the man to his right, muttering something in his ear and gesturing to me. The man glanced at me and sed behind his hand like a school-girl at Jiib's comment.
This man was Mathias, king of the Britons. His hair was a golden colour, glinting in the light that shone through the windows behind him. His eyes were of a deepest blue. His skin was also golden, with a bronze pigment in the cheeks. He wore a suit much like the one Beat had worn in the tunnels. His hands were soft, plainly not having seen a day's work in their life. At his side hung a golden sabre; plainly forged to attract attention. He knew full well the connotations of one of those and relished it, tapping the handle rhythmically. Despite his evident ego, he was a reasonable man and was the chap who had generously bought our old kit out of the generosity of his heart (just kidding Aaron conned the out of him; he nearly backed out when he discovered this but Aaron set him straight in a conversation apparently involving a candle-stick, a sack of potatoes and a small dog being thrown out of a window). Just beneath his left eye was a large amount of make-up struggling to hide a bruise (which Aaron claims Mathias had been awarded with for impertinence in the aforementioned conversation).
On Dominus' left was a proud man who seemed deep in thought. He wore a sea green suit, with a grey bow tie. Beneath this was a pair of white suspenders and a black shirt. Atop his nose were perched a pair of thick, round, silver-rimmed spectacles. On top of his head was a great purple fez. His jaw was large and square. This man was most certainly not supposed to be there! At this point he spoke, as if to an unseen narrator. "What are you talking about of course I'm supposed to be here! I'm the-"
At this point he burst into flames and Lord Wedgely "Wedge" Wedgewood of the village of Wedgewood stepped into his place. He was an optimistic man, who cared for little else but the safety of his people. Sadly, his idea of assuring their safety often meant going on the offensive. This wasn't his fault entirely; he had been raided mercilessly by Botanny's gang during the war, losing his family and the dignity of Wedgewood in the process. He had been viewed as questionable for his peaceful attempts at survival prior to the war, not even building up his army in secret as Dominus did. After the conflict he was ridiculed for these optimistic ideals; his kingdom in flames, his trade empire in tatters, and left childless and without a wife. The last of these was probably what hit him hardest. I remember seeing him just before the battle of Qustom Peak; I had been encamped near his troops and witnessed him receiving the news. He had didn't cry, he didn't burst out in anger, he didn't even react, he just stared into the distance for a few seconds and muttered "Ch-check the armoury. Make sure the weapons are r-ready." before wandering off in a lost manner. He may not have been obvious about it, but something broke in him that day. Something that was never quite fixed. He'd turned Wedgewood into a fortress before Dominus left, with it being used much to the advantage of the Overlord before his defeat. Now he stood before me staring forward with his blank smile, sad eyes, and strangely old face.
Beside Wedge was the lord of the Valhallans, Drakon. He was dressed in traditional Valhallan armour set, with the signature right-hand shoulder guard carved into the shape of a dragon's head. The steel shell of his had a radiant hue in the light, giving him an angelic impression. His blue bandanna masked his mouth. His thick black curtain of hair hung around his pale white face. Around his smirking slit of a map was a dark forest of stubble. He kept tapping his sword hilt threateningly as he glared into me, as if disgusted by my very existence. I can't blame him entirely; it did seem very hypocritical of me to stand alongside the Brotherhood in a conflict this important. However, he also can't blame me for standing with Void after learning what I did.
I can't explain why I did it at first though, whether it was out of fear of the consequences of rebelling against Void; complacency with my own position; the thrill of the moment; settling the score for Dominus abandoning us at The Nether Highway System and allowing Drk to sneak off and attack us with a Legion of Romans; or perhaps a genuine belief that there was something off with Dominus' plan.
I met his gaze, and for a few brief seconds we were trading mental blows, each evaluating the best way to end the other. Unlike Jiib's this was a genuine two way mental battle, with both people taking part and actually coming up with an attack plan, instead of a cool but surreal scene from bad Michael Bay film. Then we broke eye contact and he continued to scan the crowd.
Behind Dominus were two figures that looked greatly familiar. On the left was Wise One, King of the Egyptians, whose wrinkled face had seen battle upon battle in his many years of service to Dominus' family. I had spoken to him but once, during the Great War between the Brotherhood and the Realm. He had spoken highly of Dominus and his father, Dominus II (current Dominus being Dominus III). He was fiercely loyal to Dominus, more loyal than perhaps even Jiibrael. From the sound of it, the loyalty was rewarded with trust, and with trust came secrets. Wise One was Dominus' most trusted confidant, and his personal book-keeper; meaning he held every single dirty secret Dominus had. It came as quite a shock to us when news reached of his conspiracy against Dominus. It had taken a week to get all the leaders to hush up about it. Wise One hadn't contacted us since helping Sword and Jared escaped, leaving us to question whether or not he was even alive. However, as reassuring as seeing our silent saviour was, the questions now became "Does Dominus know? Is it safe to talk to him? Is he still on our side?"
On the right was Synthenos, a mysterious figure who bore a strange resemblance to someone I had once known; but I couldn't remember who. For some reason I thought of Qustom Peak; probably because of his connection with Dominus. He was the leader of a mysterious cult known as The Order of Aera. Little was known of them or their practices; all I knew was that they only took the best. His thick, sandy blond hair lay upon his head like a drunk collapsed on his doorstep. He seemed deep in thought about something as he eyed a patrol of pigmen dirtily.
Off in the corner was Lunter. He was a retired moderator who had a close friendship with Dominus. Woobly had held great respect for him for a time but other than this I knew bugger all about him. As for his appearance, imagine Peter Capaldi as a leprechaun.
Behind them all was the ever loyal Try-hard, leader of Dominus' private bodyguard. Woe betides anyone who questioned whether he was actually Irish. He had olive-coloured skin, and jet black hair of a similar shade to Aaron's. He was stooped slightly from an injury dealt to him by Jolly during the Great War. His armour was made purely of steel, with a great war-hammer at his side.
The only ones absent were Falcon/Raven and Zerg. It was both reassuring and unsettling to find that Dom's "secret" weapon wasn't there. It was reassuring because if we by chance did come to blows here, the fight would be much easier. Plus, the absence of Zerg's shades was also welcome; it meant Dom was growing cocky. However, it did raise the question of why Dom was being so stupid; was it a trap? Or if it was not a trap what was Zerg and his "army" (it had been revealed there were little more than 1000 of his men, 1100 including his alleged team of automatons) were doing. Despite their lack of numbers, they were among the most destructive creatures I had come across, and I had seen Muffin's work. In the group of roughly 30 men surrounding them were 5 lords sympathetic to Dominus, an administrator from when of the outer crafts whose name I could not remember, 10 of Dom’s personal guard and nearly 20 of Jiibrael's elite samurai. I use the term elite lightly.
Dominus snapped his fingers nonchalantly and a small attendant (whom I recognised to be Fabio from Aegis) ran out and put out a small pedestal for Dominus to stand on, raising his crown-clad head even further above the crowd. He appeared both serene and calculating at the same time. He cleared his throat and spoke in an admittedly calm and serene voice. "People of Mojang and the many Crafts; subjects of the Administrators; I stand before you today on the verge of a great victory. A victory that will change the world for the better and free the True Court from corruption. But before I reveal this, allow me to lend some context. We live in a system where millions are subject to tyranny under corrupt and warmongering administrators. In the East thousands are killed every day because of the warmongering of the administrator known as Vechs, who intends to turn the entire land into his own sick funhouse of anarchy; using the Court of Whispers to further his twisted vision. Let us have a moment of prayer for those who fight them." And so he joined his hands in prayer.
I clasped my hands and shook my head in disgust. As the traditional verse of "We pray to you oh Notch the Ascended, to avert us from sin and guard us from crazy badgers..." began I noticed an old man with thin but spiky hair and a wispy white beard just next to me who looked just as disgusted as myself, as if he also knew where Dominus was about to go with this. He looked familiar but I couldn't place where I'd seen him. He looked in my direction in an irritated manner. I gave him a "tell me about it" sort of look, rolling my eyes as I did so.
"How they're lapping this up will forever confuse me." He grunted, staring daggers into Dominus with his saggy old eyes.
"Likewise. Does he even lift?" I jested. He chortled.
"Say, you're Kay Mandy aren't you? I assume you're on your way to visit Void. So am I." He conversationally whispered. "I'm Halberdson, the man who built the road system in the Vanilla Craft." My face lit up at this.
Halberdson was leader of one of the Great Houses, in one of the so-called "swing" Crafts. First of all I may as well explain the voting system of the True Court. Within each Craft there are any number of noble families, each making up one of the Great Houses, which may be established in multiple Crafts. When it came to the Annual Gathering each of these Houses had a vote that would help decide the stance of their Craft on the issue being debated. The Swing Crafts were crafts which were dominated by a single Great House, meaning a guaranteed vote either way. These were key in passing any bill, as Void and Dominus had roughly 50/50 support among the regular Crafts (with Void's main support base being of most of the more traditional Inner Crafts, and Dom having the votes of most of the Outer Crafts), the Swing Crafts were the only ones left widely undecided. Every one of them counted. This was a good sign; especially as Halberdson was quite influential from what I'd heard.
"Yes I am Kay, I remember you. You built the Grand Central Network of roads in the Vanilla Craft. Glad to see you." I offered my hand and we shook heartily. I was about to inquire into his business with Void when some conscientious patriot nudged me and hissed the traditional monologue about respecting the dead.
I, being sick of hearing this exact same speech from nearly every citizen of Mojang every time I questioned the True Court's decisions in public since my arrival, cut him cruelly short. "I understand you only mean well, but believe me, Dominus disrespects them even worse than we do by using them as a propaganda tool. He himself faked insanity to avoid a call from his allies to join the war on Vechs, placing the Realm in the hands of Jiibrael who came across as so mentally unstable that no one has called upon the Realm for aid since." The citizen looked away from me, eyebrows furrowed as if he were thoroughly re-evaluating his world view.
That's when Dominus began his speech again, and the crowd fell thoroughly silent. "Now, I would like to affirm before I continue that I hold no grudge towards the people of Mojang, nor animosity towards the Divines, and I most certainly am not suggesting the citizen's of the True Court get preferential treatment over the rest of us! This is incorrect! The system works! Anyone who suggests otherwise is a liar. Anyone who suggests such tosh is your enemy. Anyone who suggests this heresy is my enemy!" This stirred up a great applause from the crowd. I rolled my eyes as he paused dramatically.
"However, on that note, while the system works, certain individuals stop it from working. Certain individuals, who give the rest of us a bad name. Certain individuals, such as "Lord" Israphel; who is currently left enfeebled in the dungeons below. Certain individuals, such as Vechs and the Court of Whispers; who threaten to destroy all we hold dear!" Again he paused for effect as nearly the entire gave him a "this-man-knows-what-he's-talking-about" sort of look.
"Even in this fair city these individuals reside. Need I even mention the Thaumic terrorist sect known as "The Flux", who just last night murdered one of the kindest individuals I know of, a man I called friend! A man I served beside and called brother!" I saw him force out a tear. "Last night they murdered Ghostly; Administrator King of the Zine Craft in a mass bombing of my own country estate. Also harmed were my dear wife, Ellen; who now lies injured in her bed. And my good friend - Zerg, Administrator of the men of Kreatious - was also injured in the bombing, thankfully not as gravely.
"However, there is one individual who embodies everything wrong with the system." I sighed thinking "here it comes..."
"A man who not only allows murder, but encourages it! A man who will help start a war and sell weapons to both sides! A man who allows personal grudges to govern how he rules. He is a man who stabs his friends in the back because their relationship is no longer profitable. A man who smuggles illegal Thaumic immigrants into his Craft for... for giggles! He has no sense of honour or shame. This man is Void, Administrator of the Vanilla Craft." He yet again paused a moment to let this sink in.
"In fact, the entire Craft is corrupt. The Administrators are apathetic. Among the leaders are murderers like the Brotherhood and Arcation; or slavers and gangsters like Kay Mandy and his Gaians. It is important to bear in mind that they are not the only perpetrators of such barbarism, but they are the perfect example of it. It is time we made an example of such people. It is time we wiped the Vanilla Craft off the face of the Earth. It is time we cleansed the system as a whole! It is time we made way for new age! In honour of this principle, I announce to you good people, that should we win the vote, a new Craft shall be formed from the Vanilla Craft's ashes! A better craft! A Superlative Craft! The Superlative Craft!"
This was enough for me. I whispered in Halberdson's ear "follow my lead", snatched a pair of flamboyant Elton John-like sunglasses and scarf off of an old blind reveller and marched through the crowd in the most self-important manner I could offer. The scarf was wrapped around my mouth in a manner that hid most of my face but allowed my voice to not be muffled. "Excusez-moi! Out of my way! Coming through s!" Said I in my best possible falsetto.
A few seconds later I forced my way through an increasing disgruntled crowd. Halberdson hobbled nervously behind me as I approached Dominus, who was too busy basking in the limelight to notice someone acting even as flamboyant as I was. However, his guards and generals however simply stood and stared at me, as if wondering whether or not they were hallucinating. The crowd were simply lapping it up, even those I had shoved through were beginning to laugh, and I began to notice familiar faces; Vacar, a depressed looking Atreidon, Ruary and Jimmy T. BIGMAN, and the four core members of the Brotherhood (Tauto, Jolly, Komplex, and Ubi). Synthenos seemed particularly amused, breaking down laughing as Dominus slowly became aware of my presence as I stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at him for a full 30 seconds. The second he started to fully realise my presence I began moving again. The crowd was in approval as I strutted up to their falling hero and he began to stammer at me in a perplexed manner. "Um... H-hello? Wh-wh-who are y-you? H-h-hello?"
At this I shouted "OUT OF MY WAY! I am too fabulous!" and shoved him off of his pedestal, his mount Olympus sending the false god crashing back to the cold stone of the Earth. A gasp came out of the crowd, I had them hooked, it was my time to shine. At this his guards brought themselves back to Earth and surrounded me and Halberdson. For effect I walked straight into the guard lines and was thrown back slightly. "How rude! We are going to complain to management about this! We so are aren't we gramps?" Halberdson seemed confused as to whom I was referring to so I offered him encouragement in the form of an elbow to the ribs.
"Oh, yes, err... quite right. Quite right!" He seemed to be lacking confidence in my tactic. However, I knew for a fact that everything was falling into place.
"Do you know who I am?!!" Shouted an outraged Dominus as he pulled himself up with the help of a fussing Fabio.
"Honey do you know who I am!" I said spinning around.
"Let’s see!" Snarled Dominus as he tugged my scarf and sunglasses off. His face fell into a state of resentment and Jiibrael began to massage the bridge of his nose and mutter "Jeb have mercy on our souls."
"Hello Dom! I see you've come back for round two of "the seasonal shaming of the Realm!"" I announced, resuming my normal accent. "First of all I'd like to point out just how flawed your argument is! First of all, Void hasn't engaged in warmongering, like ever. He fought one war with a man you just claimed to be your friend, Zerg (a man who butchered 140,000 noobian prisoners on a whim), then he refused to engage in combat willingly again, let alone fund a war. The only time he's actually fought since then is when you attempted a coup which was quite easily crushed. On that note I would like to point out that you are in fact a warmonger, having intentionally started most of the major conflicts of the Vanilla Craft since the end of the Onslaught. The war with Legion was started by Palmer in an effort to save the Council of Lords, which you sent assassins to destabilise and destroy. I have at least 6 witnesses who were all involved in one stage of this plot down in the dungeons all of which work for you and one I'm fairly sure is your "poorly" wife.
"The war with the Brotherhood was started when you decided to slaughter a grand total of 10,000 Brotherhood protected Testificates in their homes, taking the 100 survivors as slaves. Then there was Qustom peak. Need I even mention that." Dominus was glaring at me coldly, Qustom Peak was a touchy subject.
I knew why. The Realm, even with Viral betraying the Brotherhood, and Fedwin unleashing the dragon from the End Portal (or "The Well" as Dominus insisted on calling it), the battle had been a bloodbath. I cannot describe the horror; it was no great pitched battle, no order, just pure chaos. The Realm's army had been massacred and many of the Gaians and Wedgians with them. Most blamed the Brotherhood, even I had for a time, but I couldn't escape the fact that it was Dom's reliance on numbers that damned that battle to me.
I collected myself and spoke again. "Even the recent war against the Overlord was supposedly orchestrated by you. At any rate, many who are deeply connected to you are connected to him.
"As for you depiction of the Brotherhood and Arcation, as I mentioned before, it’s the pot calling the kettle black. In terms of the Gaians, while I did have a criminal streak for a while, most of my crimes were politically motivated; often by the actions of people like yourself. You’re a bad influence Dom." I made sure to tsk him on this, much to the amusement of the crowd. "As for the idea of us being slavers. Last time I checked, you still have a sizable slave empire yourself. I can forgive you for not knowing that a total of two months ago we abolished the Testificate trade entirely. All of our citizens work in decent conditions voluntarily with a strong benefits system. The Realm cannot claim to guarantee any of these." The crowd seemed impressed.
"Were you born this irritating? Or are you trying especially hard today?" Dominus grumbled. A few people in the crowd chuckled lightly.
"I aim to please." I retorted, making to bow but making sure to make a rude gesture in the process. The crowd were roaring with laughter now. Mission accomplished; Dominus upstaged.
"Now listen here Kay! Sod off if you think this is the way to behave in public. You’re little more than a snivelling Thaumic leech. Learn your place or I'll mail you back to it in pieces." Jiibrael cried out. A lot of people gasped and there were a few oohs in the crowd. A few (mostly the Brotherhood) scowled at Jiibrael's outburst. This was going even better than I planned.
"Oh look!" Cried Halberdson mockingly. "The child playing dress-up wants to talk to the grown-ups! How sweet!" He turned to the now laughing crowd, spinning back around to face Jiibrael. "Take that colander off your head boy! Your mummy will want it back!" The crowd erupted into applause and I doubled over laughing.
Then Jiibrael, scorned by this insult, kicked the walking stick out from under Halberdson. The crowd cried out in outrage. Dominus covered his eyes in horror. Jimmy T. BIGMAN ate a banana (I don't know how this is relevant but it snuck in here somehow and its staying). Halberdson hit the marble floor groaning, fumbling around for his cane like a blind man. There was a sick look of triumph on Jiibrael's face, which quickly turned to horror for two reasons. First of all he realised he had just hurt a helpless old man in cold blood. Then he realised I was planting a fist firmly into his nose. As bone shattered and blood spilt he began to collapse. In a few seconds he hit the floor and the stakes were raised.
I threw off the first three guards easily and managed to disarm Tryhard, using his hammer to stun an additional guard. Then, blood running down his temple, Tryhard struck me in the jaw and I was thrown back into two tendril-like pairs of arms. As I thrashed increasingly helplessly against my captors Tryhard began to strike me. I began to notice what was happening around me. First blow; his ring caught me just above the eyebrow, opening a small crimson gash. Jiibrael was still lying on the floor, with Jimmy still eating his banana and staring blankly at the fallen samurai as Halberdson and Wise One had some sort of pensioner boxing match. Second blow; a backhanded stinger on my left cheek, not very damaging but highly painful and humiliating. The Brotherhood had forced their way through the panicking crowd and up the stairs, loosely pairing off against the champions of the Realm. They drew their shining weapons and the ring of clashing metal soon resounded in the air. Third blow; to the stomach, causing me to begin retching. A pair of blurs that resembled Vacar and Drakon were wrestling on the floor. Ubi had sliced Mathias' sword in half and had started chasing the poor bugger around the area. Jolly and Tauto were locked in an engagement with Lunter and a number of Jiibrael's samurai. Komplex was advancing swiftly on Dominus, simply batting aside the guards like flies.
The fourth blow left me staring into the crowd, watching the warriors of Mojang fighting their way through the sea of terror. In the crowd I saw young Thomas Bone struggling against a number of drunks, who had thought their best way of getting out was forming a scrum and pushing forward. My neck felt like it were hanging on by a thread. Crack. Another blow to the eyebrow, opening the wound further. As warm blood trickled down my temple I saw Atreidon and Synthenos facing off against each other. Ruary was strangely absent. Then I saw it.
Komplex was advancing on Dominus, both blades drawn. Dominus stood with his sword pointed at Komplex's heart. Komplex was in full armour and Dominus saw the horror of his own machination's turning against him. He began to step back. Seeing this Komplex dragged his blades along the stone floor, sending up a trail of sparks behind him. Then Dominus tripped over a discarded sword and landed with a thud. He held his trembling sword against the advancing Komplex with one hand as he tried to pull himself away with the other. Komplex simply batted the sword aside and pressed his blade to Dominus' throat.
"End of the line." He snarled.
"P-please, don't..." Whimpered Dominus.
"Not this time. Time to see what you did to me." And with that the armour retracted, leaving little but the tattered remains of Komplex's shirt. Through the many holes showed innumerable scars, each more horrible than the last. Dominus gasped, repulsed. "Horrified? Good. LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO ME! LOOK AT ME!"
"I'm so sorry..." Dominus was a good actor I'll give him that, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction with his own work. Both Komplex and the Brotherhood were his own fault, he'd funded both of their creations in a way. Tryhard had stopped, as had the others. Komplex raised both swords to slit Dominus' throat. Tryhard ran out to stop Komplex, only to be tackled by Ruary, who had just fought his was out of the crowd and was completely oblivious as to what had happened.
"So this is how it ends?" Komplex spat through gritted teeth and tears of anger. He thrust his swords downwards, just as the Mojang soldiers appeared with their guns and their spears. I closed my eyes just as the swords were about to cleave flesh from bone. Then I heard a cracking noise. Knowing that this was not the usual sound for a man's throat being slit I opened my eyes and saw that Komplex was fighting to yank his swords from the stone around Dominus. I looked up to the top of the stairs and there was Void, keeping his enemy from harm. I must admit I was quite confused as to why when I noticed the firing squad forming behind Komplex and dismissed it on that.
Void said this; "Save your leader now, lest I change my mind." I was released, toppling to the floor as the guards ran forward to aid Dominus. I pulled myself to my feet and began to offer the necessary congratulations. "Thanks guys. Great job on Mathias Ubes, he won't be flaunting heretical weapons any time soon. Outstanding work there Jimmy m'boy! We couldn't have done it without you. There's that smile Vacar." I placed my hand smugly on Drakon's shoulder and jested "No shame in second place old friend." He turned and gave me a dirty look, before strutting up to help his Emperor to his feet again.
I began walking up to the stairs where I found Atreidon slumped against the bannister. He was battered from his encounter with Synthenos, but there was something more hanging about him. He seemed put out; defeated. It was strange he only seemed to have started acting this way since we arrived here. I decided that I needed to find out what it was that bothered him soon. However, now was not the time. Business needed to be handled before a sub-plot that probably wouldn't contribute anything to the actual story.
A few steps later I reached Void. He had shaved since last time, and had donned his old grey rags for a bright white suit. In his eyes there was the same sense of wisdom, but also sadness and apology. I dismissed this on my battered appearance and said "I have done as you ask Void. I do not have all the keys to this chest of secrets, but I have managed to gather a few."
"Good. Do come and tell me. I would advise we had you cleaned up first though." Light re-entered his eyes and he, Halberdson and I proceeded up the stairs. I was so pleased with my success that I didn't even take notice of the blind reveller at the bottom of the stairs, staring straight at me. Nor did I take notice of the way he nodded up the stairs, straight at one of us. For a moment I thought I recognised him, and I looked back, but he was gone; leaving the scarf and glasses I had stolen from him amidst the debris.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Back from vacation and here are the last three parts before the obscenely long four part finale of Chapter 3 (still have chapter 4 to go lads).
Chapter 3: A doubled-edged blade
Part 8: In Session
I strolled down the nearly empty staircase, holding the ice bag to my eyebrow. I was in better shape than I had been prior to my visit to Void's chambers, but I was still a sight both sore eyes and perfectly fine eyes alike would do well to avoid. My left eyebrow was swollen beyond belief, and bruises were beginning to form. My jaw still ached and there were additional bruises forming there. My clothes still were rather scruffy and torn from the fight, but we'd removed the worst blood-stains. I was still in quite the daze and stumbled like a particularly decayed zombie.
However, as much as I resembled one of the undead I was satisfied. Void had been pleased with our findings, especially from the interviews with Ray and the address from Quintus. He had said these words, "Qustom may be dead but he favours us still! Great work! I trust you'll be able to gather the information needed before the end of the week?"
I had responded by saying "Don't worry Void, we can handle this. You can rest assured that Dominus will be a non-entity in no time all."
To this Void retorted, "Glad I can rest assured my people are safe." At this Ryan's eyes fell guiltily, and Void's face fell. There was a moment where his immortal sheen seemed to fade. His age became apparent. His wrinkles became deep scars in his grey cliff of a face. The baggy black rings beneath his eyes hung like tattered banners from the walls of a derelict fort. His grey hair seemed almost like a decayed field of wheat. His eyes lost their lustre, and they too fell into disrepair. The bloodshot veins in his eyes were like lightning in the cold evening sky of his retinas. In his eyes I saw his pain, I felt the screams, I smelt the sadness. I He stood up and graciously excused himself, leaving Ryan and Epsilon to see me off.
"Yeah..." Epsilon muttered, clearly disconcerted. "That was awkward."
"Any insight?" Halberdson inquired in a worn out way.
"No." Began Ryan. "Its a subplot the writer has yet to reveal for dramatic effect. Possibly in an epic confrontation scene involving multiple other subplots being magically resolved or forgotten about and or only when its too late and everyone's already figured it out. And if this is being written down obviously the writer will find this particular conversation too uncomfortable and omit it so I have nothing to fear about having to pay for damages to the fourth wall."
"Yeah..." Mumbled I, scrunching up and discarding the piece of paper which I had been using to copy down the entire conversation under the coffee table. "Lemme guess, you fell asleep whilst a drunken Ruary and a high Wolves philosophised. Again."
"Yes." Ryan admitted before politely ushering myself and Halberdson out of the room. And that basically brings us up to the present. Seeing my allies at the foot of the stairs I bade farewell to Halberdson and met with them. The four great clock towers of Mojang rang out in harmony 12 times. Noon. I'd been here for 6 hours. The first session would begin in precisely 30 minutes.
Out of habit I leapt, skipping the bottom step. I regretted my actions immediately. My head felt significantly lighter and I began to flail due to a lack of balance. Just manage to gain my foot I tipped forwards to be caught by Cossack and (much to my surprise) Linx. Straightening myself up and reapplying the ice pack to my bruised eyebrow I graciously thanked my two saviours. Then, turning specifically to Linx I asked of him this, "Isn't this your day off? Weren't you visiting your brother?"
"Well, yes." Linx explained, in his usual bemused manner. "I was down in The Old Cow's pub when I received word that Tejmin, Secret, Small and ABB were all reassigned. This left one man to lead your guard, Key. Instinctively I turned around and found Key collapsed in his usual spot, completely shattered from the night before. He had one of the worst hangovers I've ever seen, and he's still very much drunk. Could barely lift him without the poor sod threatening to vomit on me. Eventually Mateo and I managed to load him onto a stretcher and ask a mate with a carriage to give us a lift over here. Deciding that Key was in no fit condition to lead the guard I decided to return to duty to ensure no harm befell you. Sadly, I'd arrived 10 minutes after this morning's dust-up." He seemed slightly put out, whether this was at being unable to prevent my current state or at being unable to settle an old score with Try Hard (which he had mentioned a few times but never elaborated on) I am still unsure.
"Fear not." I assured him, assuming he his sadness was due to the latter. "I got into this situation entirely of my own volition. The Realm has been "effectively put in its place" to quote Trivius. By the way, has anyone seen him since we arrived? I was interested in selling him detailed notes on the events of Aegis and Zine-Craft for his next volume of his histories-"
"In other words you want advice on your unnamed auto-biographical piece?" Cossack interjected.
"How did you-" I began to demand angrily, but was cut across by Linx.
"Kay, you aren't exactly the master of stealth you think you are. We can usually see when you're writing something under the table. Plus we've been seeing the stuff you've canned in the rubbish bin. Before you ask, its good but needs work. Its like 90% fabrication; I don't remember us having to leave because Void wanted a new rug. Although I do remember Viking, Splorer and Epsilon fighting over some fried chicken once."
"Might I point out I was particularly drunk that night?" I innocently suggested, shrugging innocently.
"Explains a lot. I was wondering how Splorer managed to die twice in the space of 3 minutes reading time." Quipped a breathless Mini as he staggered towards us. "Sorry I'm late, multiple bits of good news."
I turned to face Mini. He was dressed in his finest brown tweed jacket; aside from a few stains and light patches this looked pretty swell. A pair of lightly frayed grey trousers covered his plainly dirty legs. On top of his head was mounted a tattered fishing hat, desperately trying to mimic a fedora (by that I mean a fedora which had been brutalized, verbally abused, set on fire and left to die in a storm drain). His green speckled face was beaded with sweat, and his perpetually frowning mouth was puffing out little frosted clouds of air. Autumn was nearly over, and Winter was coming.
"So, out with it man!" I hurried him, irked by his hesitance. "What is it?"
"First of all! The Family has been arrested. Yay!" He seemed crestfallen when I didn't act vaguely surprised. "Second, Secret and the Order have the address under their watch. The Companions have been kept in reserve in case things get ugly. Small is tailing anyone who leaves with Tejmin and a select group of his most trusted allies." I nodded my approval and he loosened up; a smile creeping across his face. Or, at least it was as close to a smile as a half-breed could get. "Since Quintus was killed last night Hamish has taken over personally, with Mathias checking in every two hours and taking over whenever he is needed."
"And what exactly are they doing?" Asked Cossack sceptically.
Mini's smirk grew further. "They're organising a coup against Jeb." I gasped at this statement. "That's not the best part, they're arming The Flux against him. And..." He raised his finger for effect, silencing all of us seeing I was about to interrupt. "We've got a witness who may be willing to come forward!"
"Who?" I burst out far louder than I wanted to, drawing unwanted attention to myself. I recognised a few of the eyes drawn. There was Hippie Beak, Administrator of the Mega Craft. "Don't want that knob-head listening in. Pretty sure he's one of Dom's lot. Is he? Ah well he sucks anyway." I remarked in my head. Also watching were Lunter (over a newspaper), and Synthenos and a few boys from his Order. I pulled Mini away in the other direction and asked the question again in a voice barely above a whisper.
"That kid you chased down. Secret brought him in himself. He was on the verge of breaking down when our boys got him. He's in protective custody at the School now. However, he recovered quickly and has now got some hefty demands to be met. I settled him in myself. That's one of many reasons why I was late."
I smiled and put my arm around Mini's shoulder. "Outstanding work. I'm sure we can meet whatever demands he has. Get all the men involved medals the second they're done. They deserve it. But warn them, this is far from over."
"Will do sir. Further news though." I was surprised by the continuous flow of good news. This was a welcome change. I gestured to my friend to continue hand trembling; feeling positively ecstatic. There was a little twinkle in Mini's large black eyes as he said the next part. "Your old friend has come to take care of Hamish, so to say. Hopefully it will be as amusing for us as it will be agonizing for him. He's ready to enter the council chamber to deal the blow. Also, this arrived for you just as I was about to leave." I was so drunkenly pleased about the first few bits of news I almost didn't notice Mini hand me the little notebook with its golden gilding. Mini's grimace that I assumed was a sly grin was all but wasted on me as I planted it in my pocket, saying how I would read it after session. He seemed every so slightly disappointed but shrugged it off.
And so we began to walk towards Key and the council chambers. Linx insisted that he had left him safe with Extreme and Prippe at the café. "There's nothing at all you need to worry about my liege!" Linx said unnecessarily nervously, I was so placated I wouldn't have been angry had Hamish himself come up and spat in my face there and then. Although based on past experiences I guess he had a reason to be nervous. Last time he'd left a drunken or hung-over Key alone... well I'd rather not talk about that. I still find meal worms in my hair today. I dismissed it before I began to have flashbacks and Cossack got the shakes.
"Its perfectly fine Linx, I'm sure- oh... Oh dear!" There was Key, spoon in hand, stood atop one of the oak tables. His dirty black hair swayed like a drunk as he span around, threatening anyone who came near him with the silver piece of tableware. His dirty military armour was sullied with vomit and wine stains. Even the leather shoulder guard which bore his family crest, the Crest of the Persson family, his last true connection to them since being cast out. That item which he treasured so greatly hung from his shoulder like waste.
"Get back you..." He stopped shouting in his slurred voice momentarily and shrugged in a confused manner. "Bastards! Just! Let! Me! DIE!" He was making an ****-end of himself. I thought best to interject as he started yelling at Prippe about how "immigrants like him" were ruining the country.
"Um... Key?" I tried meekly, approaching slowly. No avail, he didn't even notice me. "Hello?" Again I got bugger all response. I was beginning to grow irritable. "Commander Persson of the Blue Alliance! As king of Gaia's domain and your commanding officer under the treaty of Walthampton I order you to turn your drunken **** around and get off that bloody table!"
Key did not take fondly to this but turned around. He gave me a dead, decomposing stare, with one eye on me and one rolling around loosely in its socket. His head shot back as he sucked down half a bottle of vodka before landing on me again. His alcohol bathed mouth opened slowly, revealing decaying yellow teeth. You could practically see the stench in the air. It was times like this I regretted my charity and cursed my love of puppetry. "You..." He snarled. "You... That Thaumic piece of that I have the misfortune to call a boss!" He practically spat out the last word. In fact he did, the phlegm just missed me. I saw that Synthenos was watching from the corner, smiling wryly. "I cannot believe I allowed myself to sign that glorified diktat! That diktat which stripped me of all my power! I'm glad the man in the bar finally opened my ing beer-drenched eyes to this... bollocks I forgot what I was about to say! Stay buh... stay back!" Extreme had gotten too close and earned himself a kick in the chest. The unfortunate Extreme stumbled back into a suit of armour, bringing down that testament to the might of the True Court with a single swipe of his arm.
Cossack came up and helpfully whispered, "Shall I get the straitjacket Kay? We wouldn't want him hurting himself would we?" It would sound innocent and perhaps slightly over-zealous to anyone else. I however, knowing Cossack, accurately assumed that he simply wanted to torture someone of an income lower than 2,000 imperial sesterces a year.
"No." I tried again. "Key will you please get down from there? You're making an idiot of yourself."
"Well you can go die you little ! You don't even have a country any more! I torched that place myself!" Shouted the renegade, laughing afterwards. As Key moved on to how outraged he was about the size of shot glasses I angrily turned to Cossack.
I told my loyal banker to, "Straitjacket this man 'til kingdom come. Submit your usual torture methods. Make him know the price of tery in Gaia's army!" As Cossack saluted happily and turned to get the straitjacket from one of his guards Linx interjected.
"Please sir, will you not allow me to deal with this? For old times sakes?" My little sneak pleaded. I reluctantly called off Cossack and gestured for Linx to end this.
He walked towards Key purposefully, a steely determination in his eyes. He was like the Erymanthian Boar, totally unstoppable. He hit Key with a glare so strong it would have shattered the walls of the very citadel we now stood within had he stared at it long enough. Key turned, angry, quizzical and uneven face meeting its match in Linx. His face melted and his expression turned to pure shock as Linx kicked the table out from beneath him. Key hit the ground with a thud, the air rushing out of him.
Then, most unexpectedly he began to weep. "I failed." He whimpered. "I'm a pathetic drunk and nothing can change that. I should have known better than to try and pretend I was some great general! I'm a fake! Even the True Court could not be bothered to hide me! Just to denounce me!"
Linx knelt down, his iron-like features staying strong but the metal heating definitely. "Key, you're a good man. You're the most loyal man I've ever met and you've never allowed anything to keep you down. You fought the Brotherhood for years in the face of adversity. Argue what you will against that, your people suffered but if it were not for your efforts the entire Blue Territory would have been sacked and conquered a long time ago. Gaia would have been destroyed before it began and whilst its arguable that helping the Realm didn't pay off in the long run, in fact it totally backfired but you saved great numbers of civilians."
"I faltered at Zine Craft. I looked into the eyes of Herobrine and I ran. I was banished. I deluded myself long enough, pretending I could compensate for my cowardice. Then, in the forum I ran bull-headed in, and I allowed myself to be bested in my idiocy. Void was almost killed as a result, Dawz died and his blood is on my hands. If I had paid even the slightest bit of attention he'd be alive. At the battle for Gaia I faltered again, I was the one leading the defence of the gates and I ran once more!" He punched the ground, as if trying to punish the Earth for allowing his miserable existence.
"We're all scared. You did what you had to and saved a lot of lives in the long run. Besides, you came back didn't you?" Linx reassured Key. "If there's one thing that's for sure about you, no matter how bad it is, you always come back somehow. Always. And that's why I'm proud to call you friend."
Key grinned and jested. "This isn't going to turn into some sappy sitcom is it?"
Linx chuckled. "I suggest we end it here, before people start getting ideas." Linx then pulled the old renegade to his feet, passionately kissed him and returned to my guard.
I firmly planted a hand on his shoulder and mumbled, "Good work... I guess."
Then Dominus and Void and everyone else came out. Then Dom was all like "Void you're like gonna die and !"
Then Void said, "Lol no you r." And Dominus died and everyone shouted out in happiness and all famine was cured in the world!
Then Falcon came out and took off her hood, revealing her to in fact be Celtic wearing a wig the whole time and that he had done it all to get money for his mycelium addiction.
Then Zerg came out (his head looking remarkably like a male genitalia) and said. "Void, ur words of wisdom have touched my hart! I am going to retire from bad-guying and become a humble rock star ice-cream man commando in the land of star wars." Every cheered again. Everything was happy once more and everyone was friends.
Mario joke.
Sonic joke.
We all laugh for no reason.
Freeze frame.
Credits.
THE END!
Then I woke up in a shadowy corridor. By shadowy I don't mean the corridor was dimly lit, it was literally built out of shadow, flowing like smoke. Behind me I heard whispers. I turned. There lay Mo, in the middle of a circle of tall hooded figures. He looked like he was in pain. They were torturing him in some way. His entire body was tightened in response to whatever was happening. It was like they were melting him from the inside. Then, the room began to quake and decay behind me, falling into a great blank whiteness. I began to run frantically towards the circle, not fearing what might happen once I reached there.
Suddenly Mo collapsed. They had stopped. I could see now, he was in some sort of dungeon room, he was pulling himself up on an iron chair. The hooded figures all simply stared at him, unblinking, unmoving. Their hands were that of shiny black stone, as were their faces. Some were frozen as if they had just been saying something but were cut off mid-sentence. One lay shattered on the floor; Mo had been fighting back. I tried to shout to him to keep up the fight, but my voice was but a whisper. Then Mo stood up, swaying slightly. Then he opened his mouth and hoarsely croaked out the words, "What would you have me do?"
Then to my surprise, one of the stone creatures turned to flesh, and spoke to Mo with the mouth of Prodigy, Tass' fallen brother. "Deliver this message; "He will be deceived"" Then as I fell, I clenched my eyes shut and prepared to be consumed. Then, to my surprise, I wasn't completely destroyed. I slammed face first into a strange glass-like surface. In fact, it was glass.
I looked around. I was in the council session. I was hunched over my notes, rocking back and forth. Standing over me was Hamish, in all his two-faced glory. Around me my allies stared and cheered Hamish on, hurling abuse at me from all sides. I attempted to stand and draw my weapon but I was held down by great black chains. In each link was engraved a different word; "blasphemy"; "murder"; theft"; "betrayal"; "envy"; "Dwarf-tossing". How poetic, being weighed down by my own sins. I would have laughed and applauded its designer had it not stated consensual dwarf-tossing was a sin and had it not been holding me down as my nemesis approached, loading his pistol.
"I hear you've been writing an autobiographical piece Kay." Hamish mockingly chided as he snapped off the safety. "Allow me to help you with it. Here's a pretty good ending." And with that he raised the gun and shot me in the chest.
No more were we in the council session. We were back to basics. Hamish had fired the bullet at close range through the Professor's skull into my chest. I was falling backwards off of the cliff. Except this time I was fully grown, and the bullet had shattered the façade that was Kay Mandy, king of the Gaians, Try Hard Pantser, Herobrine's finest and all those other meaningless titles like brittle china. As I fell backwards off the cliff it fell away further until nothing was left, just Kay, that strange child who washed up on the shore one day. Then the water below me turned into that familiar sea of shadows and I was sucked under once more.
Yet I did not fall into another scene. I was very much drowning, being tossed around like a ragdoll by a spoilt child. I felt the chill of the shadowy waters and of death gripping me, and then I let out my last breath and sank to the bottom. From the bed sprang up trees, and vines and bushes I was in the forests of Ecaria, consumed by the shadowy water. I rose wearily. I was still underwater, as I was still slow in motion and unable to see far before me, yet I could breath without issue. Was I dead at this point? I am not sure.
A path emerged from the ground before me, guiding me onwards. I wandered for... god knows how long. All I know is that by the time I arrived where it wanted me, I was an old man. There before me stood the Falcon, her back turned, only her cloak visible. I don't know how I knew it was her, I just new. I drew Amicus and charged at her. Despite my war cry she didn't notice me. As I cleaved off her head her cloak went limp as a sheet and fell to the side. From the cloak emerged a wild goose, which then turned into a raven, and then once more into a great bald eagle as it flew off.
I looked down, disappointed with my failure, wheezing from the effort. She had been standing over a grave, an open grave. I wondered who it was, so my weary eyes lingered up. There, on the tombstone was my name. Dread flushed through my body and I turned to flee. There, standing right before me, was Dominus.
In his left hand he held a candlestick with "Void" carved into it. Then, he blew a little breath, a breath so insignificantly small it felt like a gale. and the flame jerked momentarily, and then was gone. I fell backwards into my grave. Then, standing over me was the silhouette of a man I assumed was Dominus, who dropped in Starletts' broken watch. Then, without warning, water flowed in buckets into the grave and once more I was drowning. Then last thing I saw before dying was a broken clock, ticking away the same tick over and over again, singing me to sleep.
I jerked back into consciousness in our booth in the Council room. I stood bolt-upright and immediately yelled "Cossack! Where's my bloody notepad, that was gold!" Then I realised I'd said that out loud, and who was speaking. I seemed to be developing a knack for interrupting Dominus' speeches. "Um yeah. Cracking speech Dom. I must... err... take notes for future reference!"
"I just accused you of being an illegal immigrant." Dominus responded confusedly from the speakers podium in the centre of the chamber. "I provided evidence with a testimony from this heroic young Inquisition officer who knew you from your childhood. " He gestured to Hamish, who waved cheekily at me. Over in the royal booth Jeb was eying me angrily. He seemed to remember me vaguely. Herobrine was looking troubled. Dinner Bone was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh... oh dear." I stammered. "Well played." My heart sank, it was over for me. I could barely believe it but I was over.
"Kay. You can't do this." Cossack objected firmly.
"I sadly don't have much say in the matter." I reluctantly said. "It'll only be worse if I deny. I am in fact not of Mojang birth and had my citizenship stripped upon my arrest in Zine Craft."
Then the guards arrived at our booth, and I submitted myself for arrest. When Mini, who had been face-palming and shaking his head rose, pulled the scroll he'd handed me earlier from my pocket. Apparently I hadn't dreamed it all up.
"Read this." He said irritably, unfurling it for me.
My jaw dropped as I read the declaration of my citizenship, as signed by a man who I could confirm was Hamish's personal secretary. "Oh, never mind! I'm a citizen now!"
Herobrine, who had been drinking tea at the time immediately spat it out. "Well that was fast! Where was the suspense? The tension? The pay-off? The cinematic camera angles? The spiteful confrontation between Kay and Hamish? Waste of good tickets there people!"
This inspired a wave of laughter from the entire room. Even a few members of Dom's inner circle were amused, Synthenos especially. I appreciated my old master's humour. I decided to capitalise on this.
"Mini." I enquired breezily. "Is our friend ready to testify again the "honourable" officer Hamish. If we can honestly claim that's his REAL name." This aroused a gasp and Dominus looked positively horrified. A situation where he had me under his thumb had turned to his competence if not his honesty coming into question. It also put pressure on the recently arrived Dinner Bone, as he was de facto head of the Inquisition.
"Why yes my liege. Our friend is here." Mini responded in a semi-justifiably malicious way. "Mateo, would you be a dear an help our old friend in? He must be ever so tired."
Five minutes later our friend walked in to proudly take the podium. An old, wrinkled, hunched-over man with one stump for an arm was limping into the room with help from Mini. It was one of the guards who had been present at the death of Flame. After the confrontation I had found him alive but wounded and patched him up. Upon my later return I had discovered he had became the local baker and had spread the word of my innocence. With a brief clearing of his throat he began his testimony.
Ten minutes later he was still rambling on. Void was grinning down at me from the Administrator booths, toasting a wine glass to me. Even the administrator I had seen Dominus with earlier was enjoying this at his allies expense. The other leaders of the Vanilla Craft who were members of the Great Houses were enjoying the novelty of watching Hamish attempt escape for the 6th consecutive time. I for one was just enjoying watching Hamish squirm, like an ant under a twig. It was a refreshing change of places. Dominus had excused himself formally to "attend to personal matters" and had left a flustered looking Jiibrael in his place. "And that's why we call Notch "the great banana in the sky" where I come from." Finished the old baker.
"Well then." Said Jeb, unsure what he had just heard. "We managed to get just enough out of that to suspend Hamish from active duty." In response to the outcry from the Great Houses he successfully placated them with the words, "We will work on deciphering this tonight, and we'll have a formal hearing set up in two days." Even I grudgingly sat down, allowing myself to feel certain that Hamish will be tried formally before a court with the odds against him for once. I thoroughly assured myself that it would not be like his trial after the Onslaught. He would lose this time.
"Now, that ate well into the session for today." articulated Herobrine. "5 hours really flies by when there's a bit of drama doesn't it. Let us meet again tomorrow at the same time. Session adjourned."
And with that we left, not one of us noticing the silhouetted figure watching us from the unmarked booth across from us. Nor did we notice how the blind reveller beside him held up an unlit cigar to his lips, and press the hidden button upon it. Least of all did we notice the glint of silver that flew into Dominus' administrator friend's direction, or how it ate into his flesh. What we did notice was how he began to splutter, and choke, and then topple over the bannister, and soar down on top of the podium, and crush it beneath his girth. By the time we had a chance to notice either of the two figures, they were gone into the shadows.
Part 9:The Negotiation
The night was still as it could be, as if anticipating what was about to happen, and simply waiting for the fireworks to go off. "Into the lion's den." Thought I in grim anticipation. As the wagon clattered towards Dominus' compound I took a moment to survey our forces. There was the traditional Gaian unit of Linx, Mateo, Extreme, EB and NC. All of these were armed with muskets and combat knives and were dressed in ceremonial kit (now with light bronze armour pieces on the chest, shoulders and legs) simply to show their enemy exactly who they were dealing with. All had a single-minded determination to protect Gaia's interests at all costs during this mission. At the back were two men, Tejmin and Prippe. Both were dressed in the coal black jumpsuits and berets of Gaian special ops. Their mission was more shady.
Tejmin and Prippe were to infiltrate Dom's base whilst the rest of us pretended to be diplomatic or confrontational as the situation demanded it. Dominus had a vault deep within his little fortress. He had chosen this place for a reason, and a specific one at that. The house he had chosen was not only his ancestral home, but had a complex labyrinth of tunnels beneath it. These pre-dated the Golden Revolution. Before the Golden Revolution they had been used to help smuggle whiskey and other valuables in a vast criminal empire. After the Golden Revolution they had been used to hide and or smuggle out Notch's enemies; the lords who had displeased him, war criminals etc. Basically anyone who could afford the price of "rehabilitation"-as Dom had called it in an old speech- would receive it.
In recent years, since the Domini line had left to follow Qustom and Void away from Notch's reaches the house had fallen into disrepair. However, not long before Dominus staged his coup, in fact about 1 year before, someone had been sent from his household to fix the place up. We had discovered that Dominus' family had used it as a place to store information before leaving, and he had hoped to use the ol' reliable method for the duration of his war on Void. It was divided into a series of vaults. We only wanted access to one vault, the vault on Operation Overlord and by connection, the Family. And so we chose Tejmin (our best available commando) and our finest safe-cracker, Prippe. We were, (in a similar fashion to the infiltration of the Citadel) to distract the forces of the Realm. If they were caught, they were deny any orders from the Kingdom or Void. They were operating of their own accord in what they thought were in the best interests of Vanilla Craft. We had even put out word that they had gone renegade. It was a routine operation.
As for the rest of our party; there was Aaron, my personal bodyguard on this mission. As usual he wore his diamond shell with pride, this being the same shell in which he had slain Antioch. He had insisted upon wearing it here so that he could claim to be "Steeped in the blood of their greatest warrior. So that they know who it was who bested the greatest of their men and tremble when they look upon me. And should Antioch rise from the grave and come looking for me, he might see the blade that slew him, and run back to whatever tomb he came from and shut the gates to the land of the dead behind him." To be honest, as usual with Aaron, I'm not sure whether he was simply being theatrical; whether he was taking the ; or whether he genuinely considered this to be a possibility.
Also of Gaia's domain was Brit. He was wearing his finest pale tan suit (which was like his usual ones but there were fewer stains on this one). The fabric was coarse and thick, but it was warm. The waistcoat was of a muddy brown beneath the blanketing jacket. He wore his scarlet tie over a cream white shirt, which in turn lay over a thick vest. In addition to his usual outfit was a matching tan, trilby hat wrapped in a black band dark as the night sky. Nestled in his top pocket were two things. The first was his pocket handkerchief with his monogram inlaid in silver. The second was his tin lighter, which proudly poked over the top. In his lapel was stapled a single lively violet. From beneath his jacket came the barely distinguishable bulge of a Brit's personal pistol.
We had called in Key as well. I honestly can't remember what exactly happened in the hallway (due to a highly confusing dream sequence) but apparently Linx had cheered him up and Cossack had still straitjacketed him. He was back in his old steel shell, with its lapis plating and of course, his shoulder pad was proudly mounted in place. He had a cautious optimism in his eye, like he thought things were finally turning around but was bracing himself for things to go down the ter at any moment. Atop his head was a navy blue bandana, and his old dog tags were entwined around his neck like vines. He was customarily dirty and he was covered in hidden knives. With him he had brought two soldiers, both dressed in a similar fashion.
We had also brought in aid from the other peoples of the Vanilla Craft. First there was Atreidon; The Archangel; The Mad Dog; Ben to his friends. He was still bloody depressed and I was still unsure quite why. He had gone from mournfulness to a sort of reluctant submissiveness. Everything about him seemed like he'd just given up entirely. His armour was unpolished, and his hair and face unwashed. His cherished spear was carelessly propped against his leg. His eyes lingered on certain minor landmarks through the back of the wagon, then darting onto the next as it left his field of view, like a child growing bored whilst walking and falling behind their parent, then panicking as they realised how far back they'd fallen and running to their mother or father and beginning the cycle again. He had grown a thick beard in the time since Aegis. His skin was faded in colour and he had dropped a couple of pounds.
Then there was Brothers Tauto, Jay and Komplex of the Brotherhood. Both were fully equipped and ready for war, as long as it was required. To be honest, since their failure at the Nether Hub the Brotherhood had lost a lot of their previous malice. They'd never admit it but I think they were impressed by what happened there, but also were slightly intimidated. Not only had Arcation reared their heads and confirmed themselves as definite and competent opposition to their power, the other peoples of the Craft had given them hell also. Since then they'd attempted to get on the good sides of the other clans and families, directing their attention towards Arcation and the Gaians specifically. Now, with relations mending between the Gaians and the Brotherhood, Arcation was their main rival.
Directly across from the three Brothers were their counter-parts in Arcation; Gogyst, Walkers and Shadows. Even now the two groups contested for dominance of the wagon as they grappled with their iron-fisted gazes. Gogyst was tapping on his staff with his new, sleek, black, metal-skinned hand, the clangs absent-mindedly tapping out an old classical tune. Every now and then Tauto would glare specifically at Gogy's hand, as if calculating his odds of chopping it off before one of the others gutted him. Walkers had rebuilt his great stone wall of a shield, adding a layer of diamond on to it. Shadows was sitting there with his battle-axe, the only one not partaking in the extreme staring contest. Instead he was attempting to catch up on some sleep as Jolly's eyes burrowed into his jugular.
Then, as we trundled up the cobbled stones the house of our common enemy came into plain view. Around us began to crop up tents filled with the soldiers of the Realm. People of all seven kingdoms and beyond were present despite the decreased numbers of some. I was disturbed that there were quite so many, but in the end I was not surprised. Dominus had brought the Realm's council back up to full strength. To replace Sword as king of the men of the Aetherial plains was a man known as Trooping Gnome. He was a soldier, plain and simple. He thought without mercy and acted without remorse. He fought by the book and took orders straight from the top like they were holy commandments etched into his own chest by Jeb himself. However, he was also a charismatic speaker and a strong leader, the ideal person to reunite the splintered fragments of that once great kingdom.
To replace Jared was Pebbles. Pebbles was the former leader of a band of assassins from the Kingdom of Florin called the Reapers of Death. Little was known of him other than his love of jazz music and that he was particularly handy with a bull-whip.
To replace Epsilon was Drakon of Valhalla. He was the ideal candidate. He was an experienced leader, with a long history of fighting both guerrilla and pitched warfare since the liberation of Valhalla during the Brotherhood-Realm war by the Realm, the Gaians, the Wedgians with help from the Blue Alliance and other underground groups. Sadly, this liberation was the reason he was such a useful figurehead to Dom. He was undyingly loyal to him due to Valhalla' liberation, placing the success of the liberation of Valhalla entirely upon him.
On either side of us the soldiers of Dominus were beginning to gather and glare. That is when I realised, there were more than just soldiers of the Realm gathered here. Yes there were the mercenaries, but an entire regiment of Mojang soldiers had appeared to have defected (not there to regulate, purely defecting; wearing the flag of the Realm on their chests), as well as a number of men from the other Crafts. I always knew he had their political support, and the occasional great family would run off and join Dominus' ranks, but now Administrators with their full private armies were showing up.
Then we jerked to a stop. Before us were the gates into Dom's compound. They swung open shakily but quickly on its creaky hinges to show Tryhard and a small platoon of Jiibrael's samurai. They encircled the wagon like birds of prey, ready to go in for the kill the second we stepped out of line. I gave the order and we all hopped out in twos, until we were standing in a crowd before Tryhard.
Taking nervous glances around Aaron muttered to me, "We should have brought more men."
"We're here to negotiate." I reminded him.
"What happens if the negotiations turn aggressive?" He asked sceptically.
"We'll see to that when it happens." I confidently rebutted. He rolled his eyes and returned to scanning the crowd, muttering something about the odds of Hamish having a "personal attack elephant". I smiled to myself and turned to face Tryhard. "Yes?"
"Just some routine checks." Grunted Tryhard. "You two, Search the wagon. I want you back in five minutes or else." Then two soldiers saluted in the traditional manner and ran into our vessel. I prayed they didn't find Tejmin or Prippe. I could see that our company was growing increasingly nervous. Hands were on the hilts of weapons. Sweat ran down temples. Eyes darted around Hamish's ranks. Then, the two guards jumped out and shouted "all clear!". I scratched my head a moment, fighting the urge to frown; unsure what exactly had just happened. Were they bribed? Are Dom's men mutinous? Did this have an ulterior motive? Is this perhaps related to rumoured infighting? and was part of an effort to discredit Tryhard or some other figure? Then I realised it. The two guard were lying dead inside the carriage. Tejmin and Prippe had taken the uniforms and hidden the bodies in the hidden compartments beneath the seats.
Then the pair sought to be dismissed; Tryhard consented. And thus, with a joint salute they marched past the ruins of Dom's dining hall and towards the forge and the makeshift barracks. They were beyond my help now, I prayed they would be okay.
Now, what was my mission you might ask? Was I here to stall for time? To threaten Dominus? To do Void's bidding? To defect? To beg for mercy? To pick up a package that To settle an old score? In answer I would say -in order, No. No. Not on direct orders. Of course not! *slaps reader for allowing this thought to cross their mind* As to the last one, to a certain degree, yes. The events of the council session in which Hamish was suspended took place the day before. Astro was to meet with us tomorrow. Today, Dominus was attempting to regain face, rally his current allies and gain potential new ones via a council of guests. Yet, I was not here for that. I was here to allow Hamish a chance to shorten his sentence (via getting us to drop some minor charges) in return for information. A lack of interference from Dominus and his leading generals was ideal, leaving only Tryhard as the command opposition. And well... no offense to the man but Tryhard is like the Lestrade of Dom's high command. Incredibly loyal, honourable to a certain degree and undeniably by-the-book but lacked a great deal of finesse and could be outwitted by introducing even a small variation on a tactic he knew already.
I looked up and saw one of Hamish's men glaring down at us through a pair of Galilean binoculars from Hamish's own balcony. The moon shone down on the wooden balcony, and dimly illuminating the thug as he turned and called to his master. He was leaning on the scratched wooden banister, staring over the shriveled brown shrubs in the plant box. These plants that were hung by a fragile noose from the balcony. In fact, some appeared to have been burned, and quite recently at that.
Then the great doors swung open and we were greeted by a ed off looking Fabio tossing out a drunken Viral. "And stay out you lousy drunkard!" Cried the familiar falsetto. "God! I frickin' hate you! Argh!" He looked down at our bemused faces and said indignantly of the incident, "People like him are the reason no one takes me seriously! I'm a serious guy! Does this face not look serious to you?"
"Not in the slightest." British grunted. "Now are you going to let us in or not?"
"Fine! The weird two-faced police officer says he'll only allow four of you up; no weapons while you're up there." Fabio said unhappily and then smugly as he leaned against the door frame and held up a silver tray before us, shaking it.
I turned reluctantly to face my company. "Gogyst, you keep the lads from Arcation here. As ironic as this sounds I'd rather Hamish stayed alive this time round." His eyes narrowed slightly but he accepted reluctantly. Relations between us had been strained as of late. I simply didn't have the patience to deal with his extremist antics these days. I continued, "Key, you stay here too. I'm sorry but after that incident in the Citadel we're going to have to ask you to stay here so that Hamish takes us seriously. Not that you aren't intimidating though. Its just that we're feeding him enough ammo as it is."
"Okay then, so I'll take Aaron and British and we need one other person. Atreidon?" He shook his head and held up his hand formally and I nodded in response. "How about you Totty?"
"Me?" Tauto stammered in a surprised manner. He seemed astounded we were even on speaking terms. "Wouldn't you rather take Komplex?"
"Too easy for Hamish to manipulate. No offense to Komplex but his weaknesses are common knowledge among Dom's men now. Besides, your more subtle nature is needed. We have Brit and Aaron to slap him around if necessary." I smiled friendlily. He nodded and we rose up the stairs.
As we passed the silver box one by one we deposited our weapons. I calmly relinquished Amicus, my perk and my dagger. Aaron grudgingly tossed his great sword to one of the guards, as it was too massive even to consider leaving it in the silver basin. As Tauto passed he tossed his sword and perk into the basin, stabbed his knife into the nearby table and stopped. He then pulled off his magical glove, veiled his knife in the cherished item and laid the two items into the silver cradle like a mother laying their child down to rest.
Then British came up, and pulled out his cherished pistol. This was his prized possession, a piece of ancient machinery he'd adapted into a small firearm with a revolving cartridge. It fired quickly, far quicker than a perk and was easier to aim, and the safety worked far more accurately. He called it a "rotator" and I was worried he was about to redecorate the green-papered walls with Fabio's face judging from the look he gave the man. However, maintaining his grumpy manner he pulled out the revolver with his arm in an "L" shape so that it was higher than his head. He then turned in a full circle to get show the weapon to all of them, bobbing his head gently at each individual guard. He then slowly turned around, clicked out the cartridge and shook it out into the basin. Brit then lifted it up before Fabio's now uneasy face and snapped the cartridge back in loudly, before walking off to re-join us; stuffing his weapon back into his pocket as he went.
"Quite the performance there." Tauto chimed as Fabio guided us to Hamish's room.
"Thank you." Brit grunted in a slightly friendlier manner than usual. "I pride myself on being reasonably well-trained in the theatrical arts. Come in handy over the years."
"You should really take it further." Tauto suggested absent-mindedly as he pulled on a black glove to replace. "I was hanging on your every word."
"Yes, perhaps Kay'll supply you with scripts. You can start your own theatre company." Jested Aaron from the back of our crowd. We laughed despite ourselves and our present circumstance. Along our way we witnessed a large room, containing a sprawling dining room table with roughly 50 men seated. At its head was Dominus, Zerg, and a bandaged Ellen. Then we came to the ebony door of Hamish. Fabio opened it gently, as if attempting not to wake a small child, or a sleeping pit bull.
Let's check Hamish's set-up- make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, Ebony desks? Check. Weird chemistry sets brewing god knows what? Check. Portrait of his host before possession hanging over a creepy fireplace? Check. Bearskin rug? Check. Mounted creeper head? Check. Old Thaumic artefacts? Check. Flowerpot with an Endblossom in it? Check. Sinister armchair turned away from us? Check. Thug standing on a balcony with shrivelled plants? Of course check. Hamish himself? Strangely not present.
Then I saw that there was a door right beside the fireplace, which was open ajar. A wee slit of light slipped across the carpet, desperate to be avoided. Occasionally a silhouette would flit across it. From within the crack came random mumblings of no coherent nature to anyone but the speaker. I gestured to the others to stay in this room, as I crept slowly towards the door, each step across the polished wooden floor was a waterfall louder than I would have liked. Then, reaching the door, I stretched out my arm and nudged it open. Light flooded the living room, but nothing else left this hidden study.
The first thing I noticed was the "spider's web" of string running from wall to wall but, more on that later. Also within this study was a board containing another desk, with a great velvet armchair. across from this was a great board holding small named sketches, portraits and photos of a number of members of the Great Houses labelled "him???" Then to the right of that there was a similar board, containing a completely different set of images (though there were some exceptions) labelled "victims?". On both walls of pictures and names one man stood out. The administrator Dom had been friends with was on both lists. On the "him???" list he had a large red X through his face. On the victims list however, he was circled, and Hamish had scrawled "investigate immediately" on a crumpled sheet of paper below. I looked up and realised half of the great council were up there. All had a series of strings attached to them, leading to various newssheet articles around the walls of the room. Various scandals, murders, mysterious disappearances. On urface level there was no connection. Yet, in some way all of them came back to the one picture frame.
All were linked back to one single, insignificant picture frame. This was lacking in any photograph, portrait or even a crude sketch of anyone discernible. All that was there were two small newssheet clippings. The first was of Dom's late father's coronation; the other of his death. In the background a silhouetted figure in the background was circled with the word "him" connected to it by an arrow. I had heard this story many times. Dominus II had had a secret advisor, who had been friends with his father and friends with him. No one knew who he was apart from supposedly Dom II's father, Orion. A total enigma, he appeared throughout a number of photos from Dom II's reign. However, he was always hooded, or had himself positioned in a way that silhouetted him. Multiple theories had sprung up about who he was, ranging from him being an Endling spy, a disgraced noble - some even declared him to be Herobrine himself. The descriptions of him differed, from charming and handsome, to reclusive and nervous, to creepy and insulting. The description of him as a silhouette however, was the one that stuck, gaining him the nickname "The Silhouette".
Now, here's where it gets interesting. The day Dominus II was about to deliver a highly important public statement, he and his brother were found dead in the throne room. Both were dead of what could only be described as a simultaneous heart-attack. It gets better, the doors were locked, and the guards that were present that day disappeared before they could give a proper account of what happened. All that could be gathered was that the two brothers had a confrontation with The Silhouette in which he grew angry and stormed out, with the doors being locked behind him. Shortly after the two simply choked slightly and fell dead. There was a photo of a hooded figure many claimed had identified as The Silhouette positioned just below the coronation photo. In this photo there was a hooded figure in a black cloak. He was walking straight down the great steps of the R7K citadel, back when it was still under construction. Men and women were standing on either side of the staircase, parted like the red sea. All eyes were on him, yet no man who seemed to be of any stature gazed at him not in curiosity, but in utter terror. That was the sort of effect this man had. He was untouchable, and anyone who came too close had much to fear.
Then a throat was cleared behind me, catching myself and my entourage off guard completely; causing me to jump (having been completely absorbed in my thoughts and the clippings on the wall. I span around, heart-pounding. There was Hamish. He was dressed all in black, apart from a white shirt. His tie was a deep purple. The beard he always proudly sported, was thicker than normal, and he had taken the time to grow sideburns. His hair had been flattened and lathered with gel. His blackened and charred skin was particularly twisted today. His purple eye was glazed over entirely, with the candlelight of highlighting its glassy surface. His other eye was still that deep blue, the firelight dancing within it entrancingly. Beneath both eyes were heavily embedded rings, In his lapel was a shrivelled flower. Covering his hands were two bland white gloves, one of which hid his shrivelled Endling hand. The corner of his mouth was curled into a permanent smug sneer, persistently mocking anyone it fell upon. It was hard to not punch him immediately.
"You almost gave me a heart attack you smug wee *******." I said as dignified as possible, hand on my chest as my lungs heaved and heart pounded.
"Really? I must be slipping. For 11 years and two days ago I would have done just that with the mere mention of my name." At this point I interjected, stiffly correcting him that it was 11 years and three days ago since he had any vague effect on me of that nature. "Ah yes." He continued, speech flowing with snake-like ease and dripping with venom that would make any snake jealous. "I forgot about that time you threw a tantrum on a bridge." I rolled my eyes at my allies, attempting fruitlessly to minimise Hamish. "Oh dear Kay! I just noticed! Your eye! Such a pity. You always had such wonderful eyes. I always hoped I'd be the one to put them out, make us more alike. Plus... I suppose it acts as repayment." He stroked his purple eye. "That's right, its completely useless apart from when I return to my true form. As you might imagine, I don't do that particularly often." The cold so deep it felt was like he just took a newly formed icicle from his balcony in Winter and began stabbing me repeatedly with it. Realising this was far from beyond Hamish's abilities and well within his standards, I noted to stand between him and any icicles in future encounters.
"Oh! And you've still got the scarf and goggles! How adorable! Oh Kay you never change do you?" Hamish cried out enthusiastically. He was met by my best attempt at being stone-faced which only egged him on if anything. "Might I remind you, that I'm not just everything you hate, but I'm everything you hate about yourself. Or, rather what you might become. Am I getting through to you at all? No? Ah of course I am. I only need implant the idea, and you'll come to that conclusion eventually. Ah who am I kidding I can't do the whole "I am you" routine. So cliché! Am I right fellas? Oh terribly sorry! Where are my manners?" And so he turned to face my entourage, all of whom looked slightly unnerved by the overfriendly demeanour, Aaron and British knowing just how bad he was, and Totty seemingly wondering what the man was smoking.
"Aaron! Too long it has been since we last crossed paths." Aaron retorted by saying time must pass much slower for Endlings. Hamish's face fell slightly, the malice creeping in rapidly. "Oh you crack me up Aaron! You really do! With your "sharp" wit. Your honed military mind. Even your wild imagination is appealing to me. Yet, the best, and most hilarious thing about you, is just how blindly loyal you are. That gives me leverage over you, because you're so easily manipulated!" He chuckled. "Ooh! And that's what Kay likes about you isn't it?"
"Shut up Hamish." Aaron grunted.
"A nice little sheep,"
"I said be quiet."
"Lost without a shepherd."
"Shut up!" Aaron shouted, throwing his hands over his ears like a small child, clenching his eyes shut and shaking. Hamish was tormenting him, using an old Endling torture method. Just a simple tone, which could reduce a man to a mental pulp within the hour. Hamish had used it on me once or twice. I knew the torment it brought, the bad memories, the nightmares, the chilling fear. I wouldn't wish that upon Dominus himself. I would have felled him had his man on the balcony not been training a crossbow on my jugular.
"Little Bo Peep shall leave her sheep,: they will not know where to find her. The wolf watches sharp, deep in the dark,: Oh why Bo Peep? You liar..." The sing-song tone was enough to send chills up any man's spine. The fact that Hamish had slowly leant in, until he was mere inches from Aaron's face, blowing cold, foul-smelling clouds of air into his face made it even worse.
"Leave me alone." Came Aaron's quivering voice. His eyes were still clenched shut. His fists were also tightened to the point where his knuckles were turning white. He was shaking all over, and was breaking out in a cold sweat.
Hamish leant back, satisfied. He sniffed, smirked and turned over to British. "You wouldn't mind if I take off my gloves? It just feel's so bloody formal like this!" British nodded respectfully and Hamish did so. The glove peeled off like the skin from a banana, smoothly but nonetheless in a manner that suggests it is uncomfortable for one party in the peeling. One hand was perfectly normal, but the other was a black, charred, talon-like arm. "So, British isn't it? Lord, you haven't aged a day. Still a private eye? Of course you are. Arms maker now too? Conman, still I'd reckon."
In response British growled, "All a matter of perspective Mr 'amish. Some might say I'm a conman. However, many of them they are illiterate. I'd say its simply my having good taste in customers."
"Well then. I'll take your word for it." Hamish's smile thinned slightly. He was ever so slightly disappointed. Brit had effectively blunted his first line of assault. Hamish never liked direct physical confrontation - as a first line of attack anyway. He much preferred to find a person's weaknesses, figuring out how best to make them completely lacking in credibility or figuring out how to blackmail them into the position of being a non-entity, or if that wasn't worthwhile, beat the out of them before doing this. "That's a wonderful flower you have there. Truly. I always loved violets. Very reminiscent of the little blossoms of the Farlands." He reached out with his blackened hand. The violet reflected in his eyes sadly. Then the talons touched the little petals, and it turned to brittle charcoal. "Sorry, never did know my own strength." He straightened his tie as the violet crumbled over Brit's suit, much to his irritation.
Lastly was Tauto, who was regarding Hamish with mild amusement. "So," Hamish began. "Who's this? A new face? How exciting!" Just as Tauto was about to respond Hamish cut across him. "No wait! Brother Tauto Chrone! Sorry I always forget you, all of you Brotherhood natives look the same to me. Nothing special here. What is it that Kay calls you? Totty?" Tauto's jaw hung open slightly. "Yeah, that's right. I know you. I know every little detail about you. I know who you are. Where you live. I know who you work for. I know who your friends are. I even know what you had for breakfast! Before you ask, cheese omelette, with ham, potatoes, and peas. You had a side of toast, topping of butter, fully melted, just the way you like it. To drink you had orange juice, a slight bit of opium sprinkled in to calm your nerves. You've been doing that since you lost the Nether Hub according to my unnamed sources. Don't bother asking, I won't tell you and if you press the point you'll be dead by the end of the week." He said it all so fast the rest of us had trouble deciphering it. Tauto seemed to be realising the depth of this situation now.
"I can also tell you what you don't know. Like the fact that your boss, Tubby is downstairs right now getting smashed with his new friend Dom. Why don't you know that? I know the answer to that, as do you - Totty. Tubbs. Doesn't. TRUST. YOU! He resents you. He's ed off you upstaged his little protégé, Komplex. He's ed off you took over without his knowledge. He's ed off, because he thought you were second rate. He always championed Komplex as the best candidate for leadership of the chapter. And you went and made him look like a RETARD!" Hamish applauded him. "'Bout time someone put him in his place by the way." He patted the disbelieving Tauto on the shoulder. "Now, to my point. I know all this, so I know what you're about to do. And I will advise you against it with all my willpower. For both our benefits." Hamish leant in close and snarled, "Don't. Threaten. ME!" He was shaking in rage at something Tauto hadn't even done yet, but we all know was coming.
Tauto cleared his throat. "I simply was going to "advise" you to find someone new to torment. Kay is my -pot now. Has been for the last 10, maybe 11 years. I'm not going to let some upstart young mutt come and slobber all over my hard earned chew toy, because he used him as newspaper back when he was a pup." I was utterly shocked at this sudden defence from Totty of all people. Tauto lightly nudged a seething Hamish back from him. "Now don't even think about threatening me."
I was shocked. Had Hamish met his match? No, he was about to respond violently when I quickly changed the subject. "So, who's the Silhouette?"
"Huh?" Hamish said, suddenly and confusedly. His clenched fists loosened slightly. His head whipped round to meet my question.
"Who is he?" I inquired, shrugging. "The man you've devoted an entire secret room to discovering the identity of?"
"Ah, him. Please, before I begin allow me to offer you all a seat." Hamish said, his interest diverted. Like I said, he hates physical confrontation and would much rather find something he could mock us with before unnecessarily staining his suit. "I forgot that name. Tried to anyway. Took to calling him "The Patron" instead. I suppose Silhouette is more relatable to you simpletons." He then pulled his gloves back on and forgot about Tauto.
"Why's that?" British asked edgily.
"Well hard-nose, its simple. Dominus wants to find out who killed his daddy. I want to do business with a higher class of crook."
"I know, blackmail and slander is just so basic. Much too simple for a playground bully of your calibre." Tauto remarked scathingly.
"You know what Brother Totty? I'm getting sick of your tone very quickly!" Hamish warned, spinning to point a finger at Tauto. "You'd best watch your step or-"
"You were saying Hamish?" I interrupted.
"Fine." He said grumpily. "Dom wants daddy's killer brought to justice. I want to do business with a higher class of crook. The Family provided me with the ties to Dom, and as a result gave me a way of hunting down the Silhouette in my free time. So, once I find out who it is -and my contract expires of course- I take my money; I rob Dom blind and run as fast as my little legs can carry me. I wait for the Dominus to fall, resurface, and then I run off to find the Silhouette and get in with the big dogs. The upper class of crime."
"You've come a long way from the Court of Whispers Hamish." I retorted. "Now, how might one find this Silhouette?" I needed to get him to completely forget about Tauto.
"Don't bother asking me Kay." He laughed. "I barely know. I wouldn't advise it either. Because the closer you get to him. The closer he gets to you. I'm safe because he wants me to-" Hamish stopped. "I've said enough. No! Too much! You idiot! Human minds are so goddamn feeble! Always searching for the goddamn answer! No regard for what it brings!" I was honestly unsure who he was talking to. I decided to change the subject yet again.
"To be honest Hamish, you didn't answer Brit's question. Why did you start calling him the Patron? Besides the obvious reason. There always is one for you." I pried. Hamish's eyes narrowed.
Hamish's face turned to an irritated-neutral face. "As ever Kay, you're ever so slightly sharped than the rest of the spoons you persist in surrounding yourself with. Well then, I shall answer his question." Hamish straightened his tie and opened his mouth slowly. He paused a moment and then began to speak. "The Patron is of course more accurate to his profession. Its like the title of "Godfather" given to the leader of most crime families. Except, he views his associates more as freed slaves who he now has a responsibility to look after and who have a duty to protect him; "clients" so to say. He seems to believe he committed an act of compassion for them by releasing them from his full grip and letting them into his circle. Nutter I'll admit but he gets done." He smiled to himself a moment. "Now, as for my other reason. I'm sure you remember that old nursery rhyme that used to fascinate you and the professor back home?"
"Of course. The Plains of Acrisius. Don't see the connection here. The prophecy within that was completed at Zine Craft. Its irrelevant now."
"Yes, so most religious fanatics say, and all the historical experts Dinner Bone could threaten. Let me ask you this Kay. How the hell can Notch be Silhouette? And of course, where are the fields of Acrisius? More relevantly, who is the Falcon?" There was now a glint in Hamish's eyes. I knew where he was going and was unwilling to join his
"Its a flawed interpretation but you surely can't be suggesting that it will come true due to this Silhouette? I mean, its pretty easily concluded that Acrisius is an old name for the Divine's Territory from before the Golden Revolution and "The Dark Years". Acrisius does literally translate in Divine as "The Old Land of Peace". I'll admit the Falcon line is quizzical and there are some parallels in terms of naming but one can assume that Israphel is the Falcon in this context. He abandoned the Divines for the Endlings and left them to their fate."
"Explain away all you like Servant." Hamish cuttingly retorted, directly referencing the rhyme. "It won't make any difference. The fact of the matter is that at the very least part of the prophecy is going to come true, and very soon." He was so sure of himself, even thinking about arguing with him was pointless. Satisfied he wasn't going to go after Tauto and seeing he was in a decent mood I moved on to business at last.
"So Hamish, enough poetry debate. I believe I have an offer to make you." I began.
"No. None that I want to hear anyway." Hamish's voice was disgustingly genuine.
"But why?" Aaron asked incredulously. "You haven't even heard it yet?"
"Because I already know what's coming dimwit!" Hamish cried, outraged by the "stupidity" of "the common man". "You're going to offer me a few minor charges being dropped against me so that no life imprisonment can be made. They are unable to legally execute me, as a foreign citizen and it would risk all out war with the Court of Whispers if they did. And of course, they cannot extradite me because of what I know. Therefore the only other option left is lifetime imprisonment. You're going to offer my "freedom" in return for information on Dominus and the family." I was just about to demand how he knew this when he answered me. "Don't bother asking me Kay, I love to show off far too much to leave you hanging for more than 30 seconds without amazing you. I thought you'd know that by now. I guess 11 years really is a long time. Who would have thunk it? Ah well! I know it because its ripped straight out of the book. Its predictable Kay. Just like yourself." He was in full sneer now. "Just because something is written in your book, doesn't mean it isn't common knowledge. please."
I was outraged at his ruthless efficiency. "Oh off! You outfoxed me okay! Don't get used to this!"
"What? Can't deal with defeat? Talk about a sore loser! Am I right Totty?" Hamish jeered, nudging Tauto far too hard in the ribs. As Tauto rubbed his ribs angrily Hamish proceeded to dismiss us, ushering us to the door. "Well then, its been wonderful chatting Kay but you'd best be leaving. Don't worry about the boy scouts, they'll be arriving in... three. Two One!"
Just a Hamish said it, the door burst open, with a badly beaten Tejmin being thrown in by four of Jiibrael's samurai. "Mr Hamish, we found them breaking in. The only thing you were wrong about was how feisty they would be." The guard speaking frowned. "We had to put one down."
I bowed my head, taking a long deep breath. It was all I could do to stop myself throttling Hamish. "This isn't over Hamish. You will pay in blood." It sounded redundant even to me.
Hamish broke down laughing. Every single chuckle echoed in my ears a thousand times, each mocking me individually. A few minutes later he straightened up and asked me this. "Now Kay, answer me this honestly. How many times have you said that?" He paused, shrugging. "I don't know either. Now, how many times have you come through on that?"
I could only sit and glower at him. "My thoughts exactly." Hamish concluded. "Goodbye Kay." And with that he slammed the door on myself and my entourage. I turned and marched down the dimly lit hallway, wordless with rage. All I could think of was one thing as I stomped down the stairs, revenge.
"British." Said I once we were back in the courtyard.
"Yes Kay?" British inquired nervously.
I stopped, turned and said this; without remorse, and enough ice to impress the ******* I hated so much. "No more negotiations. No more legal jargon. No more second chances. intelligence. If Hamish so much as looks in our direction again... I want you to go out, and not come back until you bring me a goddamn body bag." And with that I stormed off into the night.
Here's a quick prologue to the next segment, giving us a little bit of detail about what the hell the Family has been doing whilst the excitement has been going on. And to remind you they're in the story. Part 10:Birds of a feather
Bird Brain was captain of the guard of the prison of Mojang, the menagerie of psychopaths. The most prestigious position in his profession. It was a pity his profession was so undervalued and underappreciate. He was sustained by his job but far from satisfied. His men admired him for his leniency, yet the Divines criticised him for his ruthlessness. If he were to loosen any further his opponents and the people would criticise him. It was a dead-end job and he drew no enjoyment from it. However, he acknowledged that the job had to be done and he was the best qualified to do it, apart from perhaps young Thomas Bone. He was grooming him as heir to his denounced throne. The only qualified man among his group of bums and glory-hounds. He had however called in sick the last two days, and Bird was beginning to worry about the lad. It might sound unreasonable, but Bird had seen Bone come in with flu and usually had to be forced to stay off. The last time Bone had been off unexplained... well let's just say nothing good came of it, and both of them were still feeling reverberations.
On that day, at the crack of dawn, he was walking through the minimum security ward. On either side was an armed guard in glistening white. Lining the walls were iron bars behind walls of glass. Piled against the bars were the bodies of jeering convicts who rattled the iron mockingly. They knew what he thought of them, and they exploited the fact that they were a burden to him as much as they could. Bird then grew tired of the accursed applause, and raised his fist to the sky, summoning the faceless ones. All fell silent as these mouth-less demons glided up and down the corridor, whispering terror into their souls. Bird didn't know or understand these creatures and what they were, and he frankly thought it was better that way. They scared the prisoners, and made himself and his guards uneasy. They were an asset and little more. They weren't pigmen, if anything they were just creepy Testificates. Nothing more.
When they had quieted the hall they lined up before him, bowed over dutifully. He stopped a moment, regarding them with caution that a cat near water would have envied. Bird then bowed half-heartedly and they were dismissed, whispering thanks in their spine-tingling "voices" - if one can even call a disembodied message a voice. He sniffed dignifiedly, and continued to walk down the subdued corridor, lording his victory over his rowdy kingdom - before the fools forgot an hour later and the process must be repeated once more. There were at least eight men to every cell, behind thick walls of concrete and a door of steel. Through the glass screens he could see men in sackcloth clothing huddled together by their bunks, praying for mercy. All who saw him regarded him with quiet contempt. Business as usual.
Note well, he couldn't open any of the doors himself, otherwise he would have let out half of minimum security. He had to rely on Pure, The Watcher to let him go anywhere of significance within the prison, even the killing floors. Another burden of his trade. The Watcher was the head of Divine Security at the Citadel of Mojang. He controlled all of the cells from an airship circling the citadel constantly in its vulture-like way. Pure was uncooperative, overly-aggressive and detested Bird, Thaums and wasn't overly fond of Jeb. He barely accepted to admit Bird to the prison, refused to admit any people of Thaumic descent (putting the Gaians and their king on a black-list after the incident at the Gathering Council), and threw a tantrum whenever he heard Jeb was coming. However, as he was Dinner Bone's favourite nephew, his job was secured and he could do just about anything he wanted.
Bird sniffed contemptuously again at the thought. He had to focus on why he was down here. He was visiting a specific prisoner. This prisoner had been moved straight to minimum security once the corrupt "Inspector Hamish" had been suspended and all decisions he made had to be re-evaluated, as had all his other victims. He questioned it at first, fearing an influx of insane inmates and political prisoners who would either attract every shiv in prison to their face, or choke the life out of one of his guards. However, those who needed to be sent back to Maximum made themselves apparent soon enough for them to be removed with minimal casualties. Sure four prisoners had died, but he'd not lost a single guard. That was all that mattered.
The specific prisoner was known only as "The Falcon". He assumed this was an alias, because her "Family" would use it more as a rank than as a name. They were a bizarre bunch. All had blatant violent tendencies, and they had to remove the one called "8" was covered from head to foot in runes. They'd of course removed the worst and locked on "the clamps" to inhibit the rest. This went down almost without a problem, although he had a panic attack when he saw the corrosive materials they used for removing runes.
Muffin, or "12" as they often called him, was the only one they'd had to move to Maximum security, and the only prisoner moved to Maximum pending the death sentence. This man was the only "openly" sadistic one in the lot. All four prisoners that had died had all been killed by him. He just sat in his cell, twiddling his thumbs and playing what appeared to be a sprawling game of tic-tac-toe; it was as if he didn't know he was condemned to die. When questioned, he either sneered, or absent-mindedly referred to it as "God's plan". From what they could tell he was religious, but not of any denomination Bird was aware of. He wore the robes of a Thaumaturge, yet was plainly no Thaum. He seemed to have a soft spot for ocelots, using his final request to have one brought to him. It seemed to be fine at first. But at some time in the night he broke the creature's neck and was found in the corner in the morning; clasping the corpse and sobbing his eyes out. While Muffin claimed someone else had come in that night, Bird could only assume he'd had some sort of a fit due to the complete lack of coherency in the inmate's account. However, he seemed to have recovered well enough, as he just sat there pouring over his god's plan avidly.
"Huskers" Redmond was a recluse, refusing to leave his cell for exercise. He rarely left his bed, and he refused to dine or bathe in front of a guard. He never spoke, and had the other prisoners deliver any statements from him like slaves. Bird had tried to talk to him on day one, but Redmond either refused to acknowledge his time in the army as a result of dented pride, or amnesia of some sort.
Then there was Unknown, who refused to be apart from "M'lady" at any time. As a result of the tantrums and struggling, Bird had agreed to let them stay in a cell together. He honestly didn't care what his story was, despite the fact that he was the only one who seemed capable of banging on about it. He kept on raving about that Gaian king - the one who was trying to induct his apprentice into his ranks - and how he was on the fast track to revenge. He seemed to be strikingly good at impressions, using satires of public figures to get friendly with his roommates. He was pretty sure he'd heard from one of the guards that Unknown could do an impression of himself that was embarrassingly accurate. He was aggressive and often got into fights with others over nothing but M'lady's honour.
The Falcon however, was the best behaved. It was strange. She was obviously the leader. Even Muffin seemed terrified of her. Unknown was her adoring puppy. Yet she just sat there and did exactly as she was told. An unsettling quiet accompanied her every gesture. A hidden hatred was attached to every subservient act Her voice was rarely heard, but the few times it was, it was a rasping, hissing noise. Her appearance was like that of a corpse, empty looking wounds all over her body, like cracks in a clay shell. The smooth pale skin tightly clinging to her was a phantom-like pale grey. Her flaxen brown hair was like dead rushes. She'd grudgingly allowed her armour and hood to be confiscated. However, in compensation she hid her face in all ways possible, either by using a sack-cloth hood, or by simply shielding her face with her hands or skulking in the shadows.
Creepier yet, were complaints from the neighbouring cells that they heard voices from the cell she shared with Unknown and six others over the past two nights. Some sort of conversation wherein some young sounding girl was struggling against the usual Falcon in some sort of heated debate. It always ended the same way, the rasping voice would win and the young girl would weep. So this would be quite telling about this corpse's story, if it made a lick of sense. The arguments were cryptic beyond reason and the conclusions drawn were all done without explaining context whatsoever. For some reason, she had requested to speak with Bird quite urgently, saying it was a matter of the utmost importance to himself and the city at large.
And so, bearing all this in mind, Bird stood before her cell door. This cell was more subdued than the others. All within were possessed of a resolute and focused quiet. They sat rigidly on their wooden bunk-beds, features engraved into granite. The Falcon was seated on the right hand side of the cell, face concealed in shadow completely. Her frail arms were clasped together between her legs intimidatingly. Bird could see her heavy breaths of mist billowing out before her. Unknown was the only one out of this religious position. He seemed to be lying on his bed, putting him just out of Bird's field of vision. All he could see of the corpse-like man were the tips of his scabbed, paper-coloured knuckles clasped together in a similar position.
"Open the doors Pure." Bird instructed.
"No." Said the Watcher's whining voice.
"And why is that?"
"You didn't say the magic word."
"Open the doors now, Pure."
"The other one." Bird could hear his colleagues giggling amusement and imagine that sickening grin. He could so easily imagine that triangle-shaped stretch, which he had seen but a few times yet was so characteristic of Pure.
Wanting to avoid a fight, Bird complied. "Open the doors please, Pure."
"Who?"
"Sorry." His tolerance was. "Open the doors please, sir."
"That's more like it. You should always show respect to your superiors Birdy." He then slurped something. "Ah! Refreshing. Got to love that coffee. We've got tonnes up here now. Bet you want to know how I got it?"
"Just open the goddamn doors." As suspicious as Bird was about how Pure managed to gather such a rare and cherished item in as large a quantity as he made it out to be, the Falcon came first.
With a sniff Bird watched the door glide open. Upon entry the six burly men within rose to confront Bird and his two guards. It would have been a simple fight had Bird wanted to have it. The men were unarmed, and he was a pretty decent fighter even without his kit. This was without mentioning that the Speakers would have been all over them within the minute.
Bird took the moment they were locked in wordless visual combat to observe these prisoners. Two were of Thaumic descent. One was a divine plainly. The other three however, were different. They were in ownership of smooth shaven heads. They were all muscular, seemingly military men. They were built like the Thaums but had a patchy brown skin colour. It was like a child had taken watery paint and began to try and cover a papier mache person. Cocoa beans perhaps? That or the worst tan ever. Bird scanned the room and saw one of the cherished beans lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. His eyes then took the journey up, and saw the tiniest fold of a coffee sack hanging out.
"Hello Falcon. Shall I have these men removed? Or will you do the honours." Said Bird, not looking at the Falcon. He was disinterested, attempting to figure out the mystery of the painted men.
"I will if you don't mind too much." Hissed the frail little predator, nodding to her bodyguards to leave. Without question they filed out like little soldiers. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd ask you do the same."
And so the warden dismissed his men, the door sliding shut behind him. Then he noticed that Unknown had not moved from his perch. His legs were swung calmly over the edge, swaying mildly. The protectiveness with which he regarded the Falcon was reminiscent of a particularly painful romantic relationship Bird had in his youth... Importantly, he had hidden the bag of cocoa beans beneath his mattress.
"He leaves too." Bird instructed.
"Unknown stays. Accept that or leave. You are also to have us sealed in." Falcon countered.
Bird laughed, recomposed himself and sniffed. "Fine, I'll play your little game." He pressed a finger against his earpiece. "Seal the windows please pure. Falcon wants that atmosphere."
Even the ever-sulky Pure found this amusing, darkening all windows and soundproofing the room.
"Now. Let us begin." Bird prompted, sitting on the bed. As his weight pressed down on the rock-hard mattress, the rotting boards beneath creaked and cracked sickeningly. "What do you want to see me about."
"That's a very good question isn't it?" She said sarcastically. "I come to deliver a warning." There was a ten second pause.
"About what?" Another pause. This time three times as long.
"You're all going to die." She chuckled. Had Bird been able to see her face he was certain she would have been smirking.
"I've had enough. I'm leaving" He stood up and walked to the door, about to press his finger to his ear and demand Pure let him out. Then the pale-skinned woman said something that made him stop in his tracks.
"I have a feeling... that Mr Bone will soon have had enough too if you do leave." She leant forward, head masked by a brown veil of tangled, briar-like hair. "We wouldn't want that would we?"
Bird cursed himself, curiosity and concern for his protégé compelling him to entertain this as more than a desperate time-waster. "Where is he?"
"It's quite a tale I'll admit." The falcon stood, revealing a youthful face covered in scars. "But first... let me tell you the story of a little girl. A girl who fell... and never. Stopped. Falling." Then darkness covered Bird's eyes, and he knew nothing more.
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Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Here's just a few questions that would be really helpful if you guys could answer.
Who are your favourite characters? Who do you want to see more of?
What's the best part so far? Do you prefer the lighter tone of Chapters 1 and 2? Or the darker, heavier feel of chapter 3?
What suggestions do you have for the direction of the plot?
What flaws does the story have? Does it make no sense? Is the dialogue too wooden? Is there that one character you really hate who gets WAY too much screen-time.
Most importantly, where do you think the plot is going? What is Falcon planning? Who is she? What is Dom doing? Why is Hamish so crazy? What does the Silhouette have to do with anything? Why is Atreidon acting so weird? Who is Complex 3?
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Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
So, here it is. The Final act of Chapter 3. The penultimate show-down begins. Prepare for, action, suspense, murder, possibly a cheap sub-plot involving a chucked-in romance, rip-off of other books and famous films, Hamish being an , Falcon being an , Brit's fabulous moustache, Fabio, possibly another Viral cameo, and the brutal murder of the fourth wall!
This is going to be a four or five part finale by the looks of it, so hang onto your hats!
Chapter 3: A Double-Edged Blade
Part 11:The Game Begins
In the city of Mojang lies a district known as Arcvale. Not unlike many districts in Mojang it was prosperous, yet, not in the same ways to the more uptight, upper class ghettos as it were. While it was not the sort of district one could take your family through with ease at night, it was also not the sort of district which you would avoid like the plague. The houses were unstable, and shoddily built, yet they were homely and warm. The people, whilst lacking some the "courtesy" of the more openly wealthy districts they were a great deal less prejudiced. This was without mentioning that were a great deal more informed, intelligent, articulate and generally more pleasant.
The people of the ghettos dressed like weird Georgian hipsters, with weird wigs, ridiculously high shoes which could not be worn on any surface not 100% flat. Their idea of displaying their intelligence was drinking vodka whilst reading one of Dinner Bone's "informative newssheets", or one of Grumm's "books" on the inferiority of the Thaumic race. Their idea of a politics could be summarised as this "Divine perfect, Court of Whispers bad, everyone else inferior to Jeb and as a result are on the same side of the Court of Whispers due to their endless envy of how good the Divines have it and that they'll never be as good at go-karting as Jeb". They were prejudiced, isolationist and useless minor aristocratic swine who rode off the coat-tails of their genuinely productive and far more important relatives in order to pretend that if they were to suddenly disappear that people might give a damn.
The people of Arcvale were generally more humble. They were by no means perfect; they were often loud, obnoxious and some of the sneakiest bastards you ever laid eyes on. However, they treated you the same no matter what the background, creed or even class. Better yet, the wine was good, commerce was strong and the entertainment industry thrived. Gambling centre of the True Court; yet arguably the cultural heart as well. You see, due to the gambling, bars and theatres all being situated quite close to both the Mojang Imperial Academy (where the artistic and intellectual elite were the only ones admitted) and within spitting distance of the Great Museum you got a lot of the great writers, scientists and politicians of the future and present day stumbling into the bars and casinos.
The crowning jewel of the area was the so-called spectacle squares. These were two octagonal squares adjoined by a 3 km bridge over the river Atlee. From above, they looked just like a massive pair of spectacles. Some would argue that the best thing about this place was the esteemed Hellman's Barracks Casino, with its coloured torches and massive gambling tables that could seat 50 people in one game. Others would say it was the Grand Theatre, and the great plays and operas that went on within. Some would even argue that is was the Divine Courthouse, the foremost seat of common law in the land. The only authority that could even think of overruling it was the Gathering Council itself. Others might go as far as claiming it was the view off the bridge down the river, and the many merchant stalls along the bridge. I would say it is none of these. Mine lies a bit, deeper.Now to elaborate upon that pun so that it makes sense.
Beneath the bridge lies a sprawling sub-city known as the Underworld. Down there were the nicest, most welcoming, most friendly swine to ever steal my wallet and then con me out of my best suit. Some might call it a shanty town, I would correct them and call it an ever-changing masterpiece of what man can accomplish. The glory of Underworld is indescribable. From the lanterns, to the driftwood boxes of buildings it was perfect. The little wooden pathways ran like a maze across the dark, shimmering waters of the river. This was the true glory of the True Court in my eyes; nothing could change that.
It was unexplainable how long it had been there, we aren't even sure the people down there know. It had been deliberately destroyed twice, flooded nine times and burned down a further six times. Yet the people kept coming back, and the city was experiencing its greatest period of growth since the industrial boom of 1800. It had started from what I gathered as a small community of people, who couldn't afford proper housing and as a result decided to build their own out of sight. Since then it had grown magnificently. Anyone who had enough materials to build a house and could find enough space could build it there. No one questioned you, no one told you that you couldn't do nowhere. It was held together by a Council of Merchants, with the most powerful businessman in each profession coming forward to run the council, these main professions being; private security; pharmaceutics; gambling and alcohol; cloth-making; and of course the spice trade.
There wasn't a person in the True Court who didn't depend upon the Underworld. Since the war in the East started, key trade routes had been cut off, and a vacuum had been left in the market. The people of Underworld had been quick to fill it. boats floating down the river stopped off, traded with the well-paying businesses of Underworld and went on their merry way. The people of Underworld then sold on to the upper class of the city. In fact, Jeb himself was one of the staunchest supporters of the city. Most of the large establishments up above appreciated the Underworld as a useful filter to turn away "unsavoury clients". As a result of their powerful backing, the authorities left the city be and turned a blind eye to where some of the goods came from. Few could remember the last time the Inquisition had actually been there without a major scandal turning up and all the men involved being dishonourably discharged.
Being the legal no-fly zone it was, you'd expect Underworld to turn into some sort of permanent turf war or centre of moral degeneracy. You'd be surprised by the fact that the Council of Merchants ran the place based on a et of strict principles; and were in fact quite fair in their judgement. The main rule was, if you wrong a citizen of the Underworld, private security's enforcers would hunt you down and toss you and your house in the river. However, they also had strict standards regarding the practices they allowed. Organised crime was a thing down there, mainly in the form of bootlegged books, alcohol, cigars, spice and light drugs. You also didn't find many slavers down in Underworld, and they were driven out very quickly. Prostitution, while technically legal was never a big thing and was quickly being driven out due to high regulations and violence against those who partook in it. Up top it was a whole different story. Humans, pigmen and testificates alike were sold as slaves without the slightest bit of remorse or consequence. Prostitution was running rampant, with the Inquisition being a source of some of its biggest patrons. Hard drugs were big money, and gambling was even less honest. The persecution against minority groups was also far worse on the bridge; Thaumic people being especially mistreated.
To demonstrate this I need only pull out one example; The Old Cow. While of very distant Thaumic descent, the Cow had experienced living hell while attempting to achieve a visa in the aftermath of the Onslaught, despite having served in the Divine army and spent a year in one of Herobrine's prison camps. He was the council representative for gambling and alcohol. In the last 11 years since he was dishonourably discharged (for cowardice of all charges) he had earned his place on the council, having driven out the mobsters who had been in charge of the business before with little more than grit, determination and being particularly handing with a bull-whip. He was easily the most wealthy publican in the city, even though his establishments didn't reflect this in the superficial manner you might expect. He had a chain of popular bars and casinos thirteen strong, with two of these being situated outside Underworld. The best example of a businessman of ruthless efficiency I ever met, he was a man to be revered by his allies, and feared by his enemies. For, while he was a man of principle like his fellow council members, he was also willing to resort to violence in order to achieve his aims.
I sat in a booth across from him with ABB in his finest establishment -the original Old Cow's Pub and Casino- on the day that I was to meet Astro. Yet, before I explain this conversation, I might as well add that we were not having the only conversation of consequence in this vibrant centre of revelry. At the counter, barely visible to me through the conversing drunks, the cigar smoke and a conveniently placed poker table were four familiar figures in their usual spots. In order they were; Linx; Key; Bokane and Mini. There the four sat, all in the uniforms of their various trades; except for Mini. He was wearing; his grimy trench coat; his frayed breeches; a stained "white" shirt which was missing a couple of buttons; and of course his mud-coloured suspenders, which he wore with a certain sentimentality - despite the fact that they were obviously a size too small and were in great disrepair. He also was checking his pocket watch incessantly, barely going a full minute without checking it at least twice. There sat the four musketeers, that wee band of brothers who so frequently came to this pub to drink, to laugh, to ponder some of life's most puzzling riddles, such as; "Did that man just take my wallet?" "Who the hell is this ****-end?" And of course in the morning there was the greatest riddle of all. "Oh God! Where did we leave Mini?" Usually Small was with them, however he was over at the warehouse, keeping an eye on things.
Linx was the first to speak, struggling to be heard over the noise around them. "What's with the get-up Mini?" He inquired. "Are we dressed for the banquet tonight? Getting all dressed up?"
"I wish! Kay's got me running a big assignment today. I believe I needn't elaborate any further." Linx nodded and backed down, knowing how I had been about secrecy since the encounter with Hamish the night before. "I'm not even sure Kay will even send Cossack to attend, with the state he's in at the moment. I knew he shouldn't of gone and visited that two-faced *******!" Mini sighed with the traditional hiss, and then glanced over at Bokane, who was making "hrmm" noises and pouring over a sheet of paper covered in equations. "Okay Bokane! We have broken at last. Tell us what you are bothered by lest we are truly destroyed by your silence's ruthless onlslaught!" Mini dried in mock submission.
Bokane sighed and straightened up. "Well my simple friend, if you must know I'm going over the equation Kay set me. Well, he didn't ask me to find the equation, just to figure out the odds of a balloon exploding under certain circumstances. Guess what? I've been running every scenario with Aaron for the past two days and I still haven't gotten anywhere. By all logic, Kay should be dead. That's right we are being given orders by a dead man walking!" His tone had gone far more high-pitched and frantic.
"Calm Bokane." Key jested. "I'm sure you simply forgot to carry a decimal point, or some math like that."
"You don't understand! He should be dead or at least in a coma! Unless someone replaced the balloon or... or... or unless Kay lied to us." Bokane turned to us as if a certain realisation had struck him in the face with a frying pan and then proceeded to pull the teeth from his mouth while he slept, and made then into an omelette for his enjoyment the next morning. "Say guys-"
"Nope!" Linx shouted, sticking his figners in his ears. "I'm not listening! La-la-la-la-la!"
Key and Mini chuckled first at Bokane's expression and statement, and then at Linx's antics.
"Oh come on! Take this seriously guys!" Bokane pleaded irritably.
"Sorry Bokane but you're worse about coming up with overcomplicated theories than Kay himself!" Key joked. "Remember your theory about who stole Mini's slippers?" He nudged Bokane in the arm, causing the group of them to snicker reminiscently.
"Ha, ha! Very funny!" Bokane retorted as drolly as possible. "You're one to talk aren't you Key, not even about that stuff in the citadel. Need I remind you of that time we were having that game of poker up top and-"
Key punched him in the arm hard. "Shut up! You swore you'd never tell! You swore!" The burley soldier said in an exasperated and high-pitched voice. It was truly comical to the other three, and Key submitted and joined in their laughter soon after.
Bokane looked back towards the door lightly and returned quickly with a fallen face. "Here comes the storm." He muttered sadly, taking a swig in the hope of drowning out his sorrows.
Linx and the others turned round in their stools as well and swivelled back round with equally sullen faces. Towards them clunked Atreidon, and with him all his unspoken woes. He had been drinking with them for the last few days, and they felt good about helping him through tough times. However, that didn't stop the fact that he killed all chance of light-hearted conversation with his mere presence. The worst part was, he still hadn't told them what he was depressed about. Despite their finest efforts of manipulation, and getting the ******* drunk, the best they could get was a slurred "Its complicated! And what was that about my monkey butler? What happens between me and 'im is of no concern to any of yous!" This was before he got into a bar fight and passed out so the whole monkey butler business was sadly an unlikely possibility, much to Key's disappointment.
"Gentlemen." Atreidon mumbled, tipping his triangular beaver hat. He was dressed in a formal black suit, with a bow tie and red rose in the lapel. He looked like he was dressed to a funeral. Sitting down in the chair nearest Bokane, he slammed a gold coin down onto the table and ordered their strongest vodka. He attempted to speak, but all that came out was, "Weathers... err... decent. It is isn't it gents?" To which the group all enthusiastically agreed, smiling to the point where their cheeks were about to split in two. This included Mini's uncomfortable grimace. Five minutes of such uncomfortable conversing, nodding, pausing and staring later Mini stood bolt upright and knocked over his stool, with his watch in hand.
"Dear Jeb the forgiving I'd best be going! I'll be late for my assignment." He blurted it out far quicker than he should have, making it sound much more like an excuse than he wanted it to. He was in fact running late, and he needed to leave. It didn't help that Atreidon was making things uncomfortable. Atreidon's face remained unchanged, but his eyes fell even darker and he suddenly took special interest in the counter.
"Listen I'm sorry mate." Mini leant over and put his hand on Atreidon's shoulder. "I really need to leave."
"It's okay." Burst out Atreidon, seemingly apologetic. "I understand that perfectly. Just before you go could you please explain what you've been sent to do briefly. Void's been wondering and asked me to check up on Kay." It sounded perfectly reasonable to Mini. Void had been using the leaders of the Vanilla Craft as messengers more and more; for he and his moderators were finding it harder and harder to avoid detection outside the citadel. It didn't help that Atreidon was basically doing puppy dog eyes at him. The skin around his eyes was crinkled sadly. His eyes were the most miserable shade of orphan blue, still youthful despite his aging form. However, he really knew he shouldn't do it, fearing Kay's wrath. Since the Hamish incident last night -heck, since Hamish resurfaced- Kay's temper had shortened significantly and the people lower down the chain were feeling a lot of the consequences; himself especially. However, considering this the other way this meant he was not as warmly disposed to Kay as usually. So it was a choice; one eye or puppy dog eyes. Being a man of principle, the answer was obvious.
"I'm going with Brit to meet with a man called Austin. Friend of the Cow's. Kay says he is linked to the Silhouette." Mini felt he'd said enough not to get into trouble. However, Linx was watching him uneasily, one eyebrow cocked. Bokane and Key pretended not to have heard anything be said. It wasn't like he'd said anything of consequence. Kay had already told Void -and by connection The Brotherhood, Arcation, Legion, Vangaard, ELITE, the Woobs and any other people Void viewed as significant. In all likelihood Atreidon knew about the Silhouette already. His face told Mini nothing. "Please don't tell Kay I said anything." Pleaded Mini.
Atreidon rose from his stool and planted a warm, reassuring hand on Mini's shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll be okay. Now off you go." He turned Mini and patted him on the back. Atreidon's face was crinkled in a great smile, that was trying too hard to reassure him. His body language was looser than one of Kay's knots. There was a strange overfriendliness in Atreidon's voice and face he didn't like, but he left nonetheless. Before he could think twice he was facing the bright lights of the city at noon, and he was at ease.
"Well, Key and I'd best be leaving. Kay needs us for the whole Astro visit. See you later Atrei" Said Linx, excusing himself and Key from the uncomfortable encounter. He grabbed Key crudely by the shoulder and dragged the militia leader out of his stool before he even knew what was happening. The crude, plywood saloon doors flew open and then creaked closed soon after. That left just Bokane, completely at a loss.
Bokane opened his mouth to speak but Atreidon cut across him. "Don't worry," He said, looking very pleased with himself. He downed his drink and finished his sentence. "I have to go as well. Another vodka for my friend! My usual." He slammed down a gold coin in front of a confused looking Bokane. With that the archangel followed the other four out of the door, a certain spring in his step as he moved. He was humming an old melody that was familiar to Bokane, "The Fields of Acrisius". Atreidon reached the door just as he finished the tune, chuckling and shaking his head incredulously as he planted his hand on the door. He then looked back at Bokane one last time, his grin wider than ever before as daylight illuminated his face. Then he slipped out suspiciously like a snake. Bokane stared after him quizzically with his eyebrows furrowed so deeply they looked like they were hunkering down in a foxhole, avoiding bombardment from Bokane's restless mind. Then the vodka slammed down on the table, bringing peace to the mage's mind. The brain stopped its bombardment and the eyebrows lifted themselves wearily from their foxholes. He then toasted to the others good health, and downed the pint.
Then Bokane began to become strangely weary. The little tune Atreidon had been humming was stuck in his head, echoing throughout it a thousand times as the angel choirs within his mind sang it. He was contented. Then, he remembered the lyrics to it. "Good god." He muttered. He attempted to rise from his slumber, but could do little more than flop to the floor amidst the dogs and the rats; utterly incapacitated. As he tried to drag himself across the floor he felt his eyes drooping. And then, blackness.
I was sitting with quite a view of him. "Ouch!" Chuckled the Old Cow, "That has got to hurt! You sure he'll be alright?"
"Don't worry my friend, he's gotten into far more dangerous situations whilst on your stuff." I retorted, cheerfully lifting my glass to my lips, downing the wine in a single gulp. I needed all the confidence I could get for the coming meeting. "So, are you sure you won't reconsider my offer Cow?"
"I'm sorry Kay, I've got a nice set up here. You're going to have to do without a bartender of my calibre. However, I'm sure we can work out a deal in which a skilled protégé of mine comes and works with you?" He saw my lack of enthusiasm. "What Kay? Don't trust me?" Truth was, I trusted the sleazy lout about as far as Cossack could throw him (neither being very fit).
"I won't place my money on eggs before I judge the integrity of the hen." Jested I.
"Have you not judged my integrity by now?" The Cow inquired, half offended. Mercifully I discovered that both our glasses were empty.
"ABB would you not go and get us a couple more drinks? Also could you check that Bokane hasn't hit his head too hard?" Said I, tossing her a coin. The Cow, in his traditional cheap manner did nothing to stop us. "Greedy lout." I thought to myself.
ABB was dressed most unlike herself, in a formal garment that clashed horribly with the lower class background of the place. That was not to say it was not a nice garment, simply that it felt out of place. It was basically generic 18th century rich-woman's gown number 42 and it just didn't look right in Underworld. I supposed it would be more fitting up top.
"Sure thing." ABB nodded and strolled off.
"Thank you for the kegs of wine by the way. The lads love them." I said, attempting to get the topic off of trust once and for all. The Cow loved praise too much to ignore it.
"Thank you. You're a true noble with a... wonderful company of people. Earned your spot." Began The Cow, eyes trained on ABB as she waited wearily at the counter. "Say are you two... ?"
I paused, sighing. This question had to come up every time ABB and I went anywhere together. "No. Plain and simple. We're friends and that is it. Just because she's literally the only female character with dialogue besides the Falcon in my writing does not make her the obligatory love interest! I'm not the sort to hash that in!"
"What?" Cow asked, scratching his head. Before I could explain about my writing he stopped me. "Before this turns into a beat down on the fourth wall, that was not what I was implying. Whatever it was you... err... thought I was implying." He looked at me confusedly with one eyebrow cocked. He then shook his head and recomposed himself. "Anyhow. I was simply checking whether you'd be ed off if I had a go?" He gestured to ABB.
I sighed again. "I'm sorry old friend but that's one you won't win over with cheap "charm". In fact, I'd rather you didn't if you value your own safety." It was purposefully blunt and cold. I really wanted to annoy this *******, whilst telling him the truth. If he wasn't interested in helping us, I would abandon all attempt to humour him. In truth, what I said was truth, but my tone was there simply to provoke him.
"What?" Asked The Cow outragedly. "Are you threatening me?" I shook my head. "Does she have an over-zealous father?" I shook my head once more. "A brother that would remove my arms should I go too near her?" I was shaking my head so rigorously I may as well have been in a tornado. I then reconsidered and told him that her brother was the least of his worries. "Does she have something?" I scolded him for questioning her honour. "Then what?" I smirked knowingly. Cow grumbled something about "putting Kay in his place".
A few seconds, he was standing there beside an unfazed ABB. Her expression was as disinterested as it got. I don't know why The Cow was even trying at this point. Nonetheless he put on his traditional smarmy grin. I sat back, hands behind my head and feet on the table. ABB looked back at me sceptically. I smirked and toasted my friend with my glass. I then lifted it to my lips, only to realise rather disappointedly that it was empty. ABB chuckled and met the cow with her eyes. For the next couple of minutes she humoured him. Then, he made his traditional error, assuming that because a woman talked to him, meant she was now his. He reached down and... SNAP! Two minutes later ABB had him on the floor clasping a broken arm, bruises forming all over his face, and begging for mercy. The Cow's thugs had ran to his aid, lifting the slug from the salt. They were eying ABB like sharks targeting a little fish. However, this little fish was a piranha, ready to bite. Before the test of strength began I stepped between the two groups like a wall.
Never lifting my hand from Amicus, I grabbed ABB by the arm and we began to slowly back towards the door. "Come now Abby dear. Let's get along now." I uneasily told her. At this point some particularly drunken idiot took it upon himself to cry out with the ever predictable war cry of "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" to be met with equally idiotic applause, praise, and handshakes from anyone within 3 metres of him.
The Cow however, was not amused. His flabby chin and sweaty, contorted face turning red. He was quivering with rage all over as he stumped shakily forward. He had his limp left arm clasped by his white-knuckled right. Now I began to see just how badly ABB had hurt his arm. She had dislocated it at the shoulder; which was painful but easily fixed. More permanently, she had brought her fist down hard on his wrist. Where the hand met the arm there was a sickening bend. All I could say inside my mind was, "Good girl!" His greying hair was tussled, with sweaty blades hanging down over his face unevenly. His right eye was swollen beyond recognition. If it weren't for the slowly advancing bouncers on either side of him, he would have been indistinguishable from one of the worse off drunks in that very bar.
As we slid out the front door, I heard The Cow's furious words, "Get back here you! You are no noble! You're a Kay! Just a bad actor! And you're crew are having the performance of a lifetime!" He followed us o the door, shouting the final words after us into the street as he propped open the door with his shoulder. He would have sent people after us had we not already disappeared behind a merchant's stall. We looked at each other for a moment, with an uncomfortable silence. ABB was the first to speak. "Never call me Abby again." Her tone was so dry and the statement so trivial that the two of us couldn't help but break down laughing. Recovering a few seconds later ABB reaffirmed this by saying, "Seriously though if you do I'll make what happened to the cow look like he fell and grazed his knee."
I turned away uncomfortably to face the old fish merchant who had been staring open-mouthed at us uncomfortably for the last few minutes. I gestured to him to speak politely. "You buy fish?" He asked in a heavy accent.
"Sorry sir," I replied in a proper manner as I straightened my bent legs and shook the dirt and dust swarming over my clothes back into the air, so that it went tumbling back to the earth. "Just browsing. A penny for your time though." I smiled and tossed him the coin and he waved us off; the unusual affair resolved amicably.
"So," Began ABB once we were back up top, smiling casually. "What do we do now?"
I pulled up my hood rather pointlessly, but nonetheless it was pretty badass. "Get ready. We may have an hour but today we're letting nothing slide." ABB pulled out a grey silken veil that glistened in the midday sunlight. With a flourish it was on and my friend disappeared into the crowd around us.
I looked up, hand shielding my eyes from the midday sun. It was a glorious mix of gold and orange, cutting lines of light across the glorious bright blue sea of the sky. Up high flocks of birds were migrating for the Winter. A cool breeze crept across the ground, between the legs of the people. Up on the rooftops was the perfect mix of old and new. Radiant yellow thatch grappled for control of the rooftops with red and black slate like brawlers in a bar fight. From the chimneys billowed a continuous stream of smoke, reminding me of the coming Winter. The sun could shine all he liked, and pretend that his warmth was eternal, and everything was under his control. Pretend that he would light the way forever. Pretend he was immortal. The arrogant king, attempting to placate his people in times of need. The cocky ******* couldn't even control the kingdom of the sky for a day! I stopped to ponder a moment. "Soon the fool will be unable to do anything to help us. He will be able to watch, to scream as he watches the Winter ravage the lands. Needs to accept that everyone's reign comes to an end. To everything there is a season... A time to break down and a time to build up. For every man that falls there is another to take his place. Was there even a point in trying?"
At this point I was no longer observing the sun. I was simply wondering about my own future. Was my reign coming to an end? Was there even a man ready to take my place? Was everything I had done a pointless distraction in the course of life? Truth was, these thoughts were neither few nor far between. Ever since I became king, I had feared my time was nearing its end. My friends were dropping off and disappearing day by day it seemed since the Nether Hub. I had been lucky enough to lose few people of direct consequence to myself during the Overlord's reign. But when we torched the city, I couldn't help but wonder what the point of it all was if it were to just be tossed away without regard in the end. What was the problem with Overlord taking the city? Perhaps there were grains of truth in what Overlord had said. I had scolded myself at the time but in he end there was no point in it. The seeds of doubt had been sown and they would always be there, I could just hope to starve them, keep them as seeds. I told myself my reign would not be forgotten, I was no bad actor. I would live many a year and rule successfully. I would be a good and kind king. My reign would never end... because it was mine.
I sighed sadly. How long could I keep kidding myself. I would die one day and by that point everyone would probably be glad I was gone. If age or illness didn't get me in the end it would be one of my enemies, or those at present I called friends. Hamish's return had heralded that thought. I would someday have to face the fact that we were not so different. He was all that I hated about myself. In that way he was me. We even started out the same. Hamish, or rather the creature that bore his face was once principled. He once believed that the Court of Whispers would reclaim the land and the Endlings would rule once more. He hadn't been as bad then. But then, some time during the Onslaught, something within him broke. It never healed. In the end his own people had to put him down. Since then he'd become even worse, a true madman with no limits. He was a threat to my friends, my family. I would do anything to stop him. But in the end, that was what would get me... My protectiveness. My loyalty.
I wiped my head clean of all thoughts of this nature. Now was not the time. Astro and I would reunite once more. And all would be right once more. It would. I reached the waterfront, placing my hands on the cold stone wall and looking out at the shimmering blue river, with the city reflected in its waving surface. There was a wall of clouds on the horizon. A storm was coming, I was sure of it. I sighed and murmured into my sleeve. "Everyone ready?" I put as much energy into my voice as I could, forcing myself to smile.
"The rooftops are mine Kay." Came Secret's cocky voice. "Dom's men were of no consequence. They'll be idiots if they seek to try anything else." That was one of many problems with the spectacle squares. Dom had too many allies here. Astro was either unaware (which was unlikely), leading us into a trap (more unlikely still) or attempting to cock an irreverent snook at Dominus. This was the most like Astro. He liked to pretend he was diplomatic. But when it came down to it he loved to get one over on his enemies and went to extreme lengths to do it.
I looked up and saw Secret gliding across the roof-tops like an urban phantom. He was like a shadow puppet against the canvas of the sky, completely indistinguishable if it weren't for his bow. Then he stopped on top of one of the casinos, and waited.
"We're watching from the apartment. The elite soldiers are ready to go the second you require it." Linx chimed in. We only had a team of 5 in the apartment. However we had Key's men swarming all over the square. As for the apartment. It was of little consequence in the long run.
"My boys are... around." Key jested into the system.
"I'm begging my heart out on the street. Listen I'm not sure about this. There's something wrong..." Began Aaron nervously. However, he stopped in an outraged silence, in which I heard a number of indignant grunts. We were then graced with the noise of him forcing himself to his feet. "Hang on a sec... Are you serious? Only a penny? I'm a dwarven war veteran with no legs wearing a funny hat! That's worth at least 10 of your pathetic Divine pennies! What?" He cursed. "Well would you look at that! My legs magically grew back! I can walk! Thank you good sir! Your blatant disrespect for my years of service has healed me! What? No don't get the police! Oh come on!"
"Motion to kick Aaron from the call." Secret chuckled.
"Seconded" Came the resounding response.
"Wai-" Cried Aaron before he was cut off. I looked out across to the bridge to see Aaron conversing with several police officers; desperately trying to wheedle a way out. Eventually he settled for using the "hey look over there!" tactic and flipping me off to escape. I could barely stop myself from laughing.
"Good call Secret." I gasped into my sleeve, sides legitimately on the verge of exploding.
In my ear his familiar voice crackled, "I know right?"
"Well lads, down to business. Dawdle aimlessly for the next hour and if you see any Realm ****-ends send them packing." Dictated I, getting the team back down to work. Then with that, I vanished into the crowd. Or so I thought. One always thinks they are invisible until spotted. The hunter must never take his place for granted.
Brit's P.O.V. (sort of)
Roughly 45 minutes after I gave that order three figures gathered in a dank, dirty alleyway. It was in one of the older districts. You could tell only from the back of the buildings, for they had disguised their age well with a modern façade. From the back you could see the plaster crack and loose its grip. You could see the way the world ate at the bricks, gradually wearing away into nothingness. You could see the old cobbled stones, and their uneven, slimy surfaces scattered randomly and carelessly, their former shape and uniform pattern lost on this world. Now the stones were little more than the unpredictable waves in that unchanging sea of stones.
Most telling however, was the door at the end of the dead end. You could tell it had once been proud. Take the decrepit, dented, darkened knocker on the door. Beneath the layers upon layers of grime and grit, past the dents and the cracks, was still the occasional glint of polished brass. The hinges had suffered the same fate of decay. They were made of iron, and were battling an infection of that cruel killer of metal, rust. They were on their last legs. They were loose on the doorframe, with the door opening wearily every now at then as wind rushed through the building from the other side. Every time it did so, the hinges squeaked out in pain as the unseen bully tormented them. Their knobbly red surface truly gave the impression of a true ailment, deprived of the oil it needed to be treated with. What told the most about this door, was the decayed sign above. This had once been the entrance to a grand nightclub. But now all memory of that was forgotten. Austin had moved all business up front, pretending not to spend money on what wouldn't be seen by the immediate customers. All that remained was the sign, full of holes bitten in by parasites, and slogans carved in by vandals. Yet still the letters spelt out "Ha... Son" in a depressed manner.
Along the sides of the alleyway and throughout the middle were various piles of waste. These gave of foul smells that clogged the air to the point that even to breath would leave the taste of old socks in you mouth for the next week, no matter what you tried. Also along the sides were a number of boarded up windows, and sealed off doors. The few windows that remained unblocked were shattered or scribbled upon. The wind had grown bolder, simply running about the city without restriction.
As for the three figures. The first was a stout man, with a neatly combed helmet of black hair, and a plump caterpillar of a moustached lay across his lip. His cream suit clashed noticeably with the grey backdrop. He had a habit of reaching down to pat something that wasn't there with his left, and then shaking his head and using the wandering hand to straighten his time rather unnecessarily. Then the arm would fall limply to his side, twitching uncomfortably as the invisible item remained out of his grasp. His right was planted firmly in his pocket, gripping something tightly. His eyes kept on sweeping the alleyway, detecting every little detail.
The second figure was slimmer, taller, more like a skeleton. A thick mop of mud coloured hair dangled down and shrouded one of his eyes. Today he was wearing a light grey suit that blended in perfectly with the bland background. He seemed to shuffle as he moved, like he were uncomfortable in his skin. His pencil like form gave him an eerie feeling. He kept on wringing his hands incessantly and eying every last item in the alleyway with a sulky contempt that would have made any weird emo kid jealous.
The last was a hulking figure with scaly green skin. Despite his broad shoulders, and large muscles he was a timid wee thing. He stood with a submissive bowing of his head that spoke 1000 words about himself. He looked like hewere constantly on the chopping block and ready to face death. Yet, he was also dignified in his submissive nature. Everything was regarded by him in equal calmness and equally little consideration. His ancient suit was a scuffed mess that seemed to attract dust perpetually. Seriously, he had to brush it clean of dust every time he stopped for more than 30 seconds. His fedora was beginning to lose all shape and there were sporadic holes around it.
The man in the pale suit stepped forward, his left arm swaying limply and purposelessly. It was almost as if the arm could have just been missing and it would have been just as purposeful. He started to stroke the uneven item but stopped exasperatedly and cursed himself and his arm for its brain-dead nature. He then resolved to send the lout home early and planted it in his other pocket. He then spoke with Brit's voice, head bobbing ludicrously as he spoke in order to compensate for the loss of the arm. The words he uttered were as follows; "Well lads, here at last. Mini you stay here and scare off anyone who wants to come in. Gracey'll come with me."
Gracey began to wring his hands in a gratified manner. He even flipped back his dirty mane to reveal a perfectly clean face, grinning with ordered teeth. He was the perfect contradiction. The hulking figure however seemed far less pleased.
"Why do I have to stay behind? You could use me in there!" He whined. There was something else in his voice though. Something that made British uneasy, like he were trying to hide something. A dash of uncertainty. A spritz of sadness. A lashing of irritation. All these made for a recipe for mistrust towards Mini. Brit didn't trust him one bit if that previous line wasn't clarification enough. His ethnicity didn't help.
"This alleyway is too open to ambush. You'll scare off the casual attackers. As no one knows about this apart from us and Austin's crew of amateurs. Right?" The hulk's face told him little now that it was prepared. "Besides, we need a special type of malice for this situation."
Mini decided to give up hiding whatever it was and conceded, "I'm scared."
British stared at him blankly for a moment, before nodding indifferently and turning towards the door and its tattered sign. The hulking creature stared disbelievingly after him, as if unsure what to expect. He looked to the skeletal man for understanding, but all he received was a malicious chuckle as he sauntered after the stout man. Each laugh was a lash from that silver whip of a tongue upon his soul. Then, the corners of his blank black eyes crinkled sadly and he turned to watch the alley, one hand clasping his mace, and the other on the hilt of his gold-gilded sword.
The detective was quite disappointed actually. He was half hoping that the elusive Complex 3 was about to stick an apple in his mouth, lie down on a silver plate and stick a fork in his back just for him. However, he supposed this personal confession was supposed to mean something to him, and began to work on a way to use it against that "damn dirty half-breed".
Then he looked down at the doorknob and recoiled slightly in disgust. Brit. Hated. Dirt. Despised the stuff. The only reason he tolerated his companion's dirty appearance was because of personal attachment, and how useful it was. Then, as his partner leaned against the the grimy door-frame, he reached with his left hand for his snowy white handkerchief. It slipped from beneath his tin lighter like a phantom, barely budging the old thing as it moved. Slowly but carefully, Brit lowered it and wiped the layer of black, disgusting grime from the brass surface with a tsunami of cotton. Lifting it up the detective regarded the tainted item a few moments. After attempting fruitlessly the shake the worst of the filth off he decided it was a hopeless case, discarding it with a great deal of contempt. As the tainted phantom floated to the dirt the skeletal man grinned his sly grin. Ignoring him the detective pulled a scarlet handkerchief of the same make from his right pocket, and nestled it gently behind the little tin lighter.
"Behold, the creature of habit. Enslaved by its routine and bound by rituals." Came the voice of Gracey, doing his best David Attenborough impression. Amused by his own antics he cackled and jabbed the detective in the ribs playfully, leaving a small circular smudge. As the stout man ignored him and compulsively licked his fingers and rubbed out the stain the skeletal man began to laugh.
"Ah! This is why I hang around you British. Always knew how to make me laugh." Gracey grinned almost sadly for a second. Was he hiding something too? No, it was Gracey. Brit could trust him without doubt.
Brit twisted the icy knob, and pushed the creaking monstrosity inwards, revealed a dank, dusty hallway that led into endless dark. At the end of the dark there was just one sliver of golden light through a dented doorway; pushing its way through the darkness as if to desperately beckon to British to run to it as fast as he could. Just as he was about to walk into the shadows Gracey stopped him.
"What do you make of our friend back there?" Gracey inquired, a poisonous edge to his voice. British stopped and glanced back at Mini's titanic frame before walking straight into the building without a word. The skeletal figure cackled and mumbled, "I hate half-breeds too."
Mini took a single look back as the door slammed closed. Alone again. As per usual. He knew what they said behind his back. The half-breed. The outcast. Only along for the ride because Kay felt sorry for him. And Kay's patience was wearing thin. He had known for a long time that he would have to leave someday. But with the way things were going, he wasn't sure whether he had a say in the matter... He held up the sword he had taken from Unknown. Pondering his sad thoughts he began to slowly turn the blade, watching the way the light reflected off it. He saw those black eyes of his in it. "Are they all that soulless? Am I truly condemned to damnation by my mere existence?"
Then a surge of fear shot through him. Just for a second it had been there. A split second of visibility was all it took to make him freeze. He looked around him frantically, both weapons drawn. No one there. He could have sworn that he had seen the original owner of the blade in its reflection, just a few feet behind him. Trembling he returned to the watch, keeping both weapons drawn. A storm was coming, he could feel it.
Kay's Perspective
I ambled along the bridge contentedly, a plump red apple in my hand. There was at least one bite taken out of the shiny, smooth, round fruit, creating a great uneven crater in the flawless surface. In my mouth I crunched the crispy, juicy flesh of that motionless, unfeeling beast. About me I looked. The city was alive and kicking. For a moment all my worries were forgotten in the turbulent calm.
Merchants cried out to the passers by, attempting to push their surplus onto the dim-witted. Minstrels played, watching the pennies roll into the can they was collecting with. Drunks staggered up and down the street without knowledge of where they were or care for where they ended up. Every now and then one might see a platoon of soldiers pass in their gleaming chrome-coloured armour. Aaron had taken up a new spot, simply pretending to be asleep against a sympathetic grocers' stall, shawl wrapped around him pathetically. ABB still stalked the bridge, never more than spitting distance away from me. Key's men patrolled the bridge like phantoms, completely invisible to anyone but myself.
The shimmering blue surface of the river was dotted with blinding stars amidst the rippling reflected city.
I was a mere 20 feet from the spot we were to meet at. Just a few strides and then we would be reunited. All would be alright. Then it came into site. I saw a familiar navy cape aflutter in the breeze. Then a pair of brown felt boots came into site. Soon they were joined by a pair of black-clad slender legs. As my eyes travelled up I saw also a gleaming white breast-plate over a shirt just as black as the trousers. It clashed horribly. That was my Astro! Then my eyes travelled slightly further up. The long thin neck led up to a proud neck and a... moustache? I didn't remember Astro's skin being that tanned. Or him ever wearing a sombrero.
"Hello my friend!" Came a stereotypical Mexican accent. "I am Fernastro! Here to steal your women and jobs and destroy your decadent society!"
"Seriously Kay?" Said Astro from the other side of the bench, stopping me as I read him my notes. "You wrote in a racist joke just for the shock value?"
"Yeah, people did that stuff right?" I asked, genuinely confused. I was aiming to sell the notes in the city of Mojang predominantly. I just naturally assumed the only ones that read anything were racists.
"Not outside the ghettos." Astro snorted.
"Ah well." I sighed. "Its great to see you Astro." I couldn't help but smile slightly as I said that. Four months since I'd seen him last. His weathered face was beginning to show the faintest traces of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth; like streams that would eventually turn into mighty rivers. His face was bathed in the midday sun as he leaned back.
"Its great to see you too Kay." His calm voice was being breached consistently by pangs of emotion. For a few minutes we just sat there and watched the people walk by.
"So? How did you get out of Kreatious?" I pried, desperate to find out what happened. I had a bet running with Aaron that this story involved at least one unicorn. He was more sceptical. He was betting it involved an elephant where I had guessed the unicorn would be. The rest of it we agreed on, even the random game of strip poker played by Fabio, Tryhard, Jiibrael and a few generic guards. However, the unicorn-elephant debate remained a point of contention between us.
"Well that's quite a story. Come walk with me..." And with that I was absorbed in his words. Each syllable painted a picture in my head of every little event in the story. And we were pleased. I looked out onto the horizon. A storm was coming, and we didn't care.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to us, a dirty, broken man in a black suit began to laugh in his jail cell. Just as the clocks ran out he began to laugh his cruel cold laugh. He picked up the broken watch from the cold hard floor of his cell, and set it back three hours. Then, the clock's eternally tick, was joined by an equally endless tock. The broken man chuckled to himself and picked up a featureless, cracked white funeral mask. A crude shadow of a human face it was. No discernible features apart from two eyeholes and a small rectangular slit for a mouth. That rose from the floor and covered the broken man's face. He then kicked back onto his bed and snickered to himself. A storm was coming. And he would be free to see it.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
So the second part of the finally, where begins to happen. No! This isn't like the last Chapter. Its in fact divided into FOUR or so parts! Twice the reading time!
Who are your favourite characters? Who do you want to see more of?
What's the best part so far? Do you prefer the lighter tone of Chapters 1 and 2? Or the darker, heavier feel of chapter 3?
What suggestions do you have for the direction of the plot?
What flaws does the story have? Does it make no sense? Is the dialogue too wooden? Is there that one character you really hate who gets WAY too much screen-time.
Most importantly, where do you think the plot is going? What is Falcon planning? Who is she? What is Dom doing? Why is Hamish so crazy? What does the Silhouette have to do with anything? Why is Atreidon acting so weird? Who is Complex 3?
Part 12:A Flick of the Dominos
Austin was a thin man. Not quite as thin as the skeletal man, but he was certainly far thinner than most. His hair was the same sandy blond shade as many people of the True Court. His face was at the moment etched with the now signature suspicious scowl of that fabled city. It was hard to imagine any so-called "Divine" without at least the lingering shadow of this iconic facial expression hidden beneath their mask of good nature. Around his neck proudly hung a crude golden relief of Notch, the serene expression on his face suggesting he was quite at ease with his knobbly platinum noose. Sweat gathered in glistening beads atop the bridge of his nose, despite the cool breeze flowing in through the open window. His stiff upper lip was bare, the bristles left behind from hi morning shave already regrouping and plotting to retake control of their lost kingdom. On his lip also was a crimson piece of paper, peeled up at the edges. His tussled grey hair sat atop his head in a flustered manner.
He was dressed in a baggy white shirt held roughly together by a faded navy blue waistcoat. His belt was little more than a gnawed leather strip with a dented metal buckle holding it together. He was hunched over the counter of his bar, frantically polishing a crystal shot glass, checking it every few rubs to see whether he had gotten the shine just right. His hands trembled incessantly as he undertook the task. Then the door staggered open on decrepit hinges like a weary servant announcing a guest to its master. In strode the stout man, and the skeletal man.
The stout man looked around, observing every little detail, from the moth-eaten curtains to the rickety little staircase to the left of the counter. The place had been specially closed for this. The doors were locked and atop the tables were the upturned stools. Shutters and curtains were drawn. The candles were all out, the only light penetrating that little fortress were those little slivers crawling in through Austin's defences. A small pathway of light tumbled down the stairs limply, just illuminating Austin's face properly. Behind him was a lone bodyguard who didn't even look well-trained. Brit wasn't even certain this man had served. If he wasn't himself, Brit might have expected this to be simple. He brought himself warily towards the counter, his skeletal friend flitting from floorboard to floorboard with the grace of a butterfly.
"Let's see... Limited budget. That's plain from the shabby nature of this place. Note shaving cut and shaking hands. Little is terrified. Suspicious scowl is stronger than the average. Low grade paranoia it seems. Yet only one guard? I understand he's low on funds but only one? This doesn't add up. Perhaps someone upstairs?" Thought British to himself as he planted his hands on the brass handrail before the counter; after wiping away the worst of the grime and grease with his second handkerchief of the day of course. Then he noticed the man in the trench coat and trilby sitting at the table in the corner, whose hand seemed eternally planted in his pocket. That man whose face was shrouded in shadow.
As he discarded the second tainted rag and replaced it he took a glance at his host. He had frozen almost entirely, apart from an endless quivering. His profound turquoise eyes were fixed determinedly on his eyes. Not on in the way Brit would do it, absorbing all they could. Or Gracey, with a true contempt. Unlike Aaron's suspicious optimism. Unlike even Mini's bizarre, dead calm. It was terror. Unrestrained, pure terror. Brit fought the urge not to smirk in a wide toothy grin he had not used in many a year. "Control yourself you bell-end. No need to let him show through...That's why you have
"Are you not going to welcome us?" Brit grunted, resolving to keep his pleasure to himself. This seemed to snap Austin out of his statue like stupor for a moment.
"Of course! Of course! Please have a seat-" He began, only to be cut across by the detective.
"I'd rather stand."
"Will you have anything to drink?"
"Whiskey."
"Of course. One second." Austin mumbled absent-mindedly, crouching down and pulling out a large glass bottle with shaking hands. Jittery hands slammed the glass bottle down onto the table with a whimpering clang. He poured the liquid messiy, globules flying over the table. When he was offered it however, Brit declined.
"You first." This was for two reasons. The first being the possibility of poison. The second was the fact that the poor bugger looked like he really needed it. Brit may have been coarse, but he wasn't heartless.
"Of course." Austin chuckled to himself in a trembling laugh. He drained the little glass greedily and remarked. "Of course." He seemed slightly better for the drink. Brit needed him absolutely smashed for this.
"Again." Brit politely requested. "You need it." Again this cycle repeated. Over and over. On the third glass Brit asked with as gentle a voice as he could muster, "Would my friend be able to do a routine sweep of this place? Not because we don't trust you of course! Don't worry your little head about that. Just in case someone... unsavory happens to be listening."
"Of course!" Came the inevitable reply. And with that the skeletal man grinned ear to ear and began to slink around the place like a snake.
"Now. Could you please stop saying of course and get me a drink?" Brit pleaded, rubbing his temples in a worn out manner.
"Of cou- I mean sure." Slurred Austin as he poured Brit a glass and slid it across to him. Brit had to move quickly in order to stop it from flying off the table altogether. Austin tried to pour himself another, but Brit stopped him with a familiar bluntness. "You've had enough."
"But-" There was an indignant look in his eye. He looked like he was about to... I don't actually know. He wasn't very imposing, but his teeth were quite sharp. I suppose he intended to eat Brit. However, the cool glare awarded to him by the detective put the pugnacious dog down with a whimper. "Whatever you say." He mumbled grumpily, staring holes into the counter.
"So? The Silhouette?" Brit started in a nonchalant manner. "What do you know?" The second half of the sentence sent not shivers down Austin's spine, but a fully-fledged earthquake.
Who was this man? Did he really work for the Inquisition? What are the consequences of this? was he safe even now? Was he watching? All these questions nagged Austin's mind constantly. It was driving him mad. Never being able to trust anyone. He just wanted to get it over with. Dump the Silhouette in it before he was little more than a brainless husk of a man, mumbling insanely in some asylum cell. If he died, so be it. Anything was better than continuing like this.
As that, Austin sighed with a heaviness to make an anvil jealous and began to speak, forcefully attempting to stop his voice slurring. "Well, that's a long story. I met him about 20 years ago. I was out of work. He was looking for someone to go and recover some old artefact from some village in the Outlands. Well not recover, fund the recovery of it. I was to be known as "The benefactor" and nothing else. Things went well at first, the artefact in question was recovered and the lead archaeologist-professor guy appeared to be compliant. However, that's when things took a turn for the worst..." He slouched down on the counter like a brooding raven. His face dried up, and his lips turned to stone.
"In what manner?" Brit inquired, reluctantly offering the bartender another glass, sloshing it about enticingly; in an effort to bait the shark.
The shark swigged his chum down and continued. "The professor tossed the deal out the window. Wanted to study the item further. Thought it was dangerous. Turned out it was somehow..." He sighed. "And my employer new that. We offered him twice as much but he just wouldn't take it. My employer wanted me to kill the ******* and take the item. So, I went to confront him one night and it turned out everything had turned to complete turd." He paused again, slightly less adamant this time. More expectant.
"That'll only work once. Keep talking or I'll smash the bottle over your face." Brit put quite bluntly.
"You know. I feel slightly more compliant after that." He chuckled, his nerves punching through the great smothering veil of drunkenness. Seeing Brit was unwilling to laugh, smile or even acknowledge his jests as anything more than a personal insult he decided to continue with his stories. "The son of the local lord, some psychopathic brat in his late teens with major anger issues and the worst lisp ever decided he wanted the eye too.
"Turns out the professor's little child assistant was a Herobrine worshipper. Full on cultist if what the brat uncovered was true. He used this as a method for driving them out and vilifying their names." His voice began to croak, and his the shadows of tears just began to glisten in his eyes. I decided to make a deal with the professor. I take the eye and in return I save him and the child. We were to meet by a nearby waterfall at midnight. I don't know why. They decided on it. Still not sure why." A tear slipped silently down his cheek. "I was running late. The brat showed up before me. I turned up just in time to watch him kill the professor and his kid with the same bullet. Kid fell off the waterfall with the eye.
"So, it was a failed job. I've been in his debt ever since." He broke down now. Into his sleeve his wept. Silently, the glistening diamonds fled to the fabric like rats from a ship. His face was in a permanent state of disbelief, as if he were re-watching the event over and over again. Man's old curse. Reliving our mistakes forever.
Brit was satiated. The bartenders tears fed him almost as much as they disgusted him. However, as the tears fell from his face into his rag-like sleeve and sullied it further, Brit couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Was he finally going soft? Brit recomposed himself and decided to further press his victim.
"What do you know of him at this moment?"
At this Austin returned to Earth a broken man. He kept weeping of course, but it was accompanied by a cold, shrill quivering laugh. "Oh well... this is where it gets good." A sick pleasure entered his eyes. "I am this ing close to getting this *******! 3 years I have owned this bar! Seven years I have hunted him in silence! Three years I have searched from here for every loose end he could leave! I know who his other dependants are! I know who his family are! I would know every little event in his life for the last 50 years, if it weren't for his name!" He held up his skinny, dead hand for the detective to see. His thumb and forefinger were a mere inch apart to emphasise his point. "He lived in this bar! This goddamn bar! Its the only reason I bought the lousy place!" The laugh turned to a chuckle; each wretch was an earthquake. The walls of humanity were breaking, on this shell of a man. What power was this Silhouette? To eat a man out from within. To shatter his mind. To leave just this... This animal. He was a force to be reckoned with.
"If you have him under your thumb then why do you need us?" Brit asked, dismissing the elephant from the room.
"Of course! An explanation would be in order." His face fell deadly serious once again. "I haven't the power. Or the proof. If I pursue it any further without consulting someone, it will all be for nought! He's backing me against death's door and I need someone to carry this on. When I..." He gestured with a circular motion of his hand that explained all.
At this point the skeletal Gracey reappeared before the counter and cut the conversation short. "This room is clear. I'll just eh... go check upstairs?"
"You do that." Brit dismissed, regarding Austin with the deepest curiosity.
That was when it started. Down the stairs crept the first notes of a song familiar to all in the room. As the song played on, the notes danced through the shadows around them, uttering their war cry throughout the room. For a few moments the detective and his companion attempted to see the name of the song, and identify its source. The bartender however began to shake beyond control. He instinctively reached up and began to strangle the effigy around his neck for safety. The beads of cold sweat began to thicken on his face and arms, shining white in the golden light.
"He's co-o-o-oming!" Shrieked Austin in a shrill terror, face contorting into a sickening look of pure untainted terror. The "o" noise seemed to last an eternity, adding to the horror. He dug into the counter with the fingers on his right until the knuckles turned white as snow. The left clasped the effigy ever stronger.
Then down cascaded the words to that familiarly unknown tune. "As time goes by" Murmered Gracey, as he looked slowly to Brit, searching for orders.
Brit gave him a mere glance that told him exactly what to do. Find that goddamn piano! And off up the stairs he swept, light as a shadow. Then, he lurched to a stop, and with a flick of his wrist his knife laid itself down in the bed of his palm. Yet, it was unfamiliar, like a cheap courtesan selling itself to him. For it wasn't truly his knife. Not yet.
He had forged it in order to replace his true knife, which had been cruelly stolen from him while he was asleep the night he and Brit arrived with myself and the others (whilst I was being held by Quintus). Linx had been especially helpful in the search for the culprit, despite the trivial nature of the event. Where I had scoffed at his "pettiness", through the veil of irony and hypocrisy I wore from dawn till dusk, Linx had offered help. He had reassured Gracey; he had informed him of their progress. It was a delicacy he could respect, with a tenderness he couldn't hope to replicate. He claimed to have seen the thief, and was familiar with him, and wanted to see him at all costs. He never said who it was though. He claimed it to be "A matter of a personal nature." Gracey respected this. Linx seemed decent enough, and wasn't big enough of a threat to be worth suspicion.
Nonetheless it was a knife and had to be used. Even shadows had to bleed. He scanned the landing. A window before him, the sun lighting the landing through the curtains. Two doors to his right, one to his left. All were of the same dark oaken material. Until his feet was a soft green rug, well past its prime. He was terrible about telling where a sound was coming from so he spun left and kicked in the door on the left.
Then, in he sprang, knife in hand, ready to confront any spectral thug who might dare rear their head. Then, he observed that the room was in tatters. The curtains were torn down from the windows, with the hangers of those still in tact dangling dejectedly. The bed was a mess; covers and pillows torn without rhyme nor reason. The tables and furnishings fared no better. The carpet was spattered with dried blood. The fireplace looked like whatever animal did this had tried to demolish it entirely. This horrific attack had evidently happened a long time ago, for dust was settled across almost everything in the room. Yet no one had bothered to clean it up. It was if the dust was preserving the room perfectly for future generations to look upon and ponder. Yet the portrait above the fireplace was what struck Gracey the most. The face contained within was familiar, but he could not place the name. He decided to abandon his mission a moment to investigate.
A few steps forward and the skeletal man noticed that the portrait was torn, seemingly by a knife. At first he didn't notice any pattern, but then he saw what they spelt out; "FRAUD!" He recognised the whispy beard and spikey gray hair. The proud smile. The weary eyes. The withered face and arms. The fragile, glass-like hands wrapped themselves desperately around the instantly recognisable cane. He remembered all this, yet not the name of the man in the picture. It was like the man was so forgettable and understated, and yet so powerfully memorable he could tear the mere memory of him from your mind without effort. From then on, he would remain a shadow in your mind until he chose to reveal himself once more. In the forehead of the man was a knife, a cobweb cementing it in place.
Then he looked down at the faded bronze nameplate, pondering it with abject and all-consuming curiosity. For a moment he forgot the music. He wiped away the layer of dust, sending the little wave spiralling off into infinity. Then, he saw the badly scratched and patchy name of the elusive figure. It said thus:
"Lord Halberdson: Patron of this fine establishmentfrom 1823 to the proud year of 1864 Post Great Taint."
However, far more interestingly, there was a message carved into the bronze, right on top of the name. Into it was carved a simple phrase that sent chills down his spine:
"NO MORE"
"Fraud no more? Interesting" Mused Gracey. Then he remembered the music and decided to return to the task at hand.
Gracey struck lucky on the second go. The door crept slowly on its shockingly well oiled hinges. In the room, silhouetted against the light pouring in from the window was the phantom player, singing and hammering away at his piano. The Silhouette perhaps? Gracey prepared his knife and set foot on the rug. That's when the man with the brass knuckles struck him on the jaw, and the knife flew from his hand.
"Come now, it was never going to be that simple." Cried the Silhouette from his stool.
His voice was old, ancient even. Yet it somehow sounded even more strong and cohesive than any man younger than he. The commanding voice was untraceable to the point where Gracey questioned that it was even coming from the man in the stool. I suppose that's what he operated on. Creating an impression without giving away anything. No strings attached. No loose ends. He'd planned the whole thing. All this rushed through Gracey's mind as he slammed into the wall on the far side of this landing. Then the brass knuckled man fell upon him, and the two grappled for control of that confined space as the madman played.
Meanwhile downstairs, Brit was trying desperately to be comforting to the hollow bartender. This was not his thing. The best he could muster was an emotionless "It'll all be okay. Do not worry." This didn't help in the slightest. He forgot all about the man in the trench coat, and of the guard behind Austin. Then, as the first sounds of a commotion Brit asked that question which had been bothering him so long.
"How did you get into contact with Kay?" Brit asked. "How did you find out that he was looking for the Silhouette?"
Austin stopped panicking a moment, staring quizzically into Brits profound eyes. "I didn't. He contacted me through a friend of mine."
Brit was dumbfounded. "But you weren't on the lists in Hamish's study! I got a good look myself and there wasn't a non-noble on there! Kay himself told us you were looking to give us information." His voice was exasperated and shrill.. That's when he found his companion's knife.
To be honest, he'd have to have been blind to miss it. Thrice into Austin's side it plunged, each drawing another flow of crimson. The bartender gagged on the red flood within him, and began to splutter on that which gave him life as it cruelly reclaimed that which it gave. In his surprise, Brit allowed those few precious seconds in which he could have saved Austin to slide; he simply stared onward in shock. Then, as the thug discarded the lifeless form of the bartender, knife slipping from his gloved hands, still firmly planted in the rump of Austin. Suddenly Brit tapped into that pool of rage he kept so carefully tucked away in the corner of the grotto of his mind, and pulled out the rotator clumbsily.
An execution was held there and then. One shot to the head. Two to the chest. A clean execution in all but practice. Scarlet spattered the glass cabinets behind the thug as he collapsed against them and slumped to the ground a limp puppet. A few renegade droplets had the gall to fling themselves at Brit and his clothes, just to spite him. Few found there mark, but those that did sank into the fabric of Brit's clothes almost immediately, making them look like the surface of a pepperoni pizza. He instinctively lowered his hand to his pocket to remove the worst of the tainted liuid from his face, when the man in the trench coat began to move.
Brit noticed him just a moment before he struck, a mere shadow of a reflection in the blood-spattered surface of the glass. He whirled around to face him, but down came a club of iron upon his wrist. As the arm shrieked out in pain, the little firearm clattered to the floor sadly. Brit saw his attacker up close, and struck him a back-handed blow across his temple. The trench coated man barely flinched. Brit attempted a second blow. However, trench coat removed a single hand from the metal rod and blocked the blow with a tree-like forearm. The other swung the rod into Brit's left leg, a sickening cracking sound following.
Yet the detective did not falter. As he limped away he grabbed a clay vase from a table and threw it at his oncoming attacker. The trench coat raised to arm to shield his face as it shattered against his mighty frame. Brit followed this up by smashing a fragile wooden stool over the trench coats' head. While this did little to faze him, it did remove the hat from his head and reveal a face Brit was all too familiar with.
A well-known ape-like head reared itself. The yellowish-white bald cap of his head glistened with sweat, and the side-burns were matted down with filth. Coarse black hair ran round the back of his head like a shaggy torque and dangled down in a relaxed manner. His eyes were beady and black, filled with a single-minded rage. His nose was permanently bent, due to the many times it had been done in. Around the base of his neck and shoulders was a similar mat of black fur-like hair.
Glibby The Ape was a well-known serial killer. Named the ape for both his animalistic behaviour, and gorilla-like appearance. Brit had encountered him a number of times before, with Glibby escaping each time. You see, despite the animal-like appearance and methods of murder, he was a great strategist and actually quite articulate. Brit and him had developed a brotherly rivalry over the years. They were the opposite sides of the same coin; Brit was the subdued civilised man with pent-up rage and no social skills whatsoever. Glibby was the obvious barbarian, with his rage coming to the surface without restraint, yet without his appearance he would fit into society better than Brit. His appearance here was of no comfort.
He shrugged mockingly and then struck Brit on the side of the head, sending him crashing into a table. Dust coated the detective as he scrambled into a sitting position. Then he saw the gun on the floor, right between his opponent's legs. He leapt between the great pillars that held up his fortress-like frame. The little firearm was just a few inches out of his grasp when he felt himself being lifted up by the neck with the icy metal rod clasped in the fists of Glibby. He was using it to strangle him. To choke the life out of him.
"I hope you realise that this is strictly professional old friend." Glibby consoled, allowing him a moment's breath. "If it were down to me I would have given you much more warning. Sadly, the boss gave me an offer I couldn't refuse."
Before the ape could apply more pressure Brit was just able to hastily scream out just one word, "GRACEY!"
At this there was the sound of cursing and a man came tumbling down the stairs haphazardly, screaming as he went. Then he landed at the bottom of the stairs and crumbled to dust, being followed closely by a fierce looking Gracey. The skeletal creature's eyes darted across the room to the ape as it strangled his partner. He ferociously snarled and grabbed a fork from the table beside him.
With a flash of dirty silver Glibby was roaring in pain as the dining utensil dug itself into his forearm like a pitchfork... digging up potatoes of blood? That simile did not go as I planned at all... Oh well! So, in his pain the ape dropped his detective plaything to the floor. The detective hobbled away in a daze, rubbing his throat and gasping for air. Then he came to his senses and dived for his gun, grabbing the gun and spinning around as he slid along the floor, so that when he stopped he had his gun trained on the ape's head. And so as the creature tossed Gracey away, it had to stop, realising it was in the hunters sights.
"This is most unsporting gentlemen. Two on one? Hardly fair." Moped the theatrical voice of Glibby, his upper lip quivering slightly. "Some might say cheating."
"Now, now Glibby! When have we ever cheated?" Gracey jested, giving off a great toothy grin as Brit gestured for him to put his hands behind his head. "How's the job going? Life as a serial killer still serving you well?"
"Well enough. Up until this point of course." Replied Glibby as he sullenly complied.
"Now." Brit began. "Here's how its going to go. You're going to sit down and place the hands on the back of your head. Whilst my friend here applies handcuffs to them. Then we're going to-"
"Have a little walk down to the station. Do we have to go through this every time you "capture" me." Groaned the gorilla.
"Actually, I also think its pretty pointless." Came a voice only Gracey knew. He whirled his head to the stairs, and the man he assumed was the silhouette came into perfect view. Yet he was unable to distinguish his face, for it was guarded by an emotionless quartz funeral mask his friends had become very familiar with over the past few months. He was dressed in a spotless grey suit. "Now Messrs British and Gracey, here's how its "going to go down". You're going to let Mr Glibby go, and we're going to leave through the front, you're going to leave through the back. While you're out back you're going to see just what my close friends from the Family have been up to."
"Why in the name of Jeb the almighty would we do that." Challenged Gracey. It was a fair question.
"Because my dear skeleton," The Silhouette answered, pulling his hand from his pocket to reveal a small tube with a button on the top and a wire leading back into his pocket. "I have six kilos of black sulphur lining my clothing."
"That must be highly uncomfortable." Glibby remarked, cracking his knuckles.
"Yes. but its practical nonetheless." The Silhouette conceded sincerely.
And so the two exited through the front door, the duo glaring after them.
"Hang on," mumbled Brit, coming to a sudden realisation. "What did they say about us going out back?"
And thus they bolted out to the alleyway they'd entered through. Gracey arrived first, to find the alleyway littered with four corpses. All were blatantly Falcon's storm troopers. They hadn't even changed out of their uniforms. Yet there was no sign of Mini, and only one corpse seemed to bear the mark of a mace-wound. The others were all victims of what was perhaps a sword or dagger, but more likely a spear; the wounds were too precise for the average swordsman to pull off. An amateur spearman on the other hand could pull off the pin-***** like wounds similar to these any day of the week. Stranger yet, the three slain at the hands of the elusive spearman were all armed with his own design of rifle, like a firing squad. Then he realised, the half-breed was in fact gone. Then he heard the sound of a rope straining, and made the mistake of looking up.
Hanging from a flagpost jutting out of the side of the wall like a branch, was the half-breed in question. His arms were limp. His legs hung like a ragdoll's. His back was turned to Gracey, as it had been when they entered Austin's bar; when they had entered Austin's tomb. Then, the wind decided this was the dramatically appropriate time to change direction, and did so.
Around the corpse turned, to reveal Mini's bruised face. In his forehead was firmly planted a crossbow bolt. Worst yet, from ear to ear was slit a great bloody grin. The colour was already drained from his face. The green scales had faded and turned pale. Around him danced flies in a primal war-dance. From his neck hung a bloodied sign, which read thusly:
"Loose lips sink ships. Be careful who you trust. -Unknown
P.S. Don't worry Brit. He's not scared anymore."
"I in' hate half-breeds." Murmered Gracey absent-mindedly, a single tear running down his cheek.
Cossack's Perspective
Cossack was sitting in the theatre, watching a play and eating popcorn. Then Shrek came in and attempted to assassinate him.
"Rargh! I am Shrek and I'm gonna assassinate you." Cried the ogre.
But it was okay because Cossack used "magic snipers" and killed Shrek. Cossack then gained 3000 XP and 40 Pokeet. He then set his sights on defeating Team Rocket salad and the elite fourteen.
Fabio's perspective
Fabio's perspective is the sole right of the Realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Not for individual distribution under pain of death and or imperial prosecution. Copyright Emperor Dominus, 1877-78 P.G.T. (this is why you never
Kay's Perspective
"And that's how I saved Christmas!" Astro finished to my laughter. "So, good story?"
"Better than any of the I've written. That's for sure!" I wheezed from the chair of twisted iron.
Then a scruffy, dwarven beggar came up. He wasn't much of a dwarf, he was far too tall. About the same height as myself (and I wasn't exactly short). His skin was a soft yet worldly olive. Wrapped around his broad chin was a thick, diamond-blue beard I was all too familiar with. At his temple was a scar, so crudely drawn on in crayon an infant could have done better. His mouth hung open limply, tongue lolling out. In his eyes was little more than a blank nothing. Atop his head was collapsed a crumpled, lime green paris beau. He was wrapped in a great black poncho, with torn and frayed edges and great rips down the back; it wore the battles scars of service proudly and without restraint. He had an almost comically exaggerated limp brought about by his "lame right foot", and moved in a half-drunken hobble. The right leg as a whole was stiffly straight the whole way along, and was more of a crutch than anything else. In his right hand he held a rusty tin mug, within which a various assortment of metal items rattled their pleas of help to any who might be bothered to listen. His left was extended before him, seeking out any potential patrons with an unrivalled prejudice.
Then the beggar clanged his rusty mug down on the table with a well-practised aggressive vulnerability. He heaved his head towards me, and his mouth sprawled into a great, yellow-toothed grin. Speaking of teeth, he was missing quite a few. He tossed his light-blue fringe out of his blank eyes like a wild horse. I was half-expecting the characteristic snort. I was almost disappointed when it didn't come.
"So, it was an elephant right?" Asked the determined voice of Aaron.
"Sorry mate, unicorn." I replied in mock apology, shrugging. "You can verify this can't you Astro?"
"Well of course." Astro bluntly complied.
"Oh screw you Kay! Where's my man-purse!" Aaron steamed, paying absolutely no heed to Astro's presence. He charged off through the crowd, abandoned his entire character bar the lame foot excuse. He even left the rusty tin.
Astro peered in bemusedly. "Well he plays a crazy beggar really well when he's not distracted."
"Does he now?" I mused.
"Yeah, take a look. I'm not sure he brought a single coin with him. The most coin-like device I'm convinced he hasn't gotten here is a very rusty nut with a broken screw stuck in it."
I looked in and he was correct. Aaron was good with details like this. Always added to his performances. He had a number of aliases like this, each memorable in their own name. Today's was his personal favourite; Ecodew of Stoneholm. A truly artful performance in which he portrayed a demented war veteran who believed himself to be a dwarf. Not just a proper dwarf (simply a genetically short man who came from Stoneholm) but a dwarven stereotype based old fairy tales. He loved it so, for it was the guise he had assumed whilst living in Zine Craft. The guise under which he had met myself, Astro and many others. He could play a mean dwarf, having grown up among them. However, due to his height he had decided just decided to have fun and throw together a nightmarish monstrosity of a charicature embodying every dwarven stereotype there was, with a few other stereotypes thrown in for good measure.
I took a glance around. We were seated outside the café where I had met with Void just three days prior, in the Northern spectacle square. Across the street lay the charred husk of the caravan of the poor illusionist. I hadn't seen him since his arrest, despite having attempted to bail him out at the Inquisition building. Turns out Hamish's last order was to lock any person known to be linked to me in any way was to be locked out of the system, not even allowed to visit prisoners. We'd tried any number of surrogates, but Hamish was one step ahead of us all the time. As per usual. Most people just walked by the sad reminder of the barbarism of which so many of them were patrons. However, every now and then I would see some young yob, from either the poor propaganda pits, or the rich ghettos walk by and laugh. Sometimes they might damn the Thaums with a spit in the ashes or curse the Thaumic race with a slur. It was sickening. I decided that it was best not to dwell on the two-faced nature of this accursed paradise, and was mercifully distracted by a familiar voice crackling in my ear.
"Kay, remember the large Thaumic community to the East?" Linx chirped. "The one that got really ed off over all the evictions and recently refused to hand over that crime-boss?"
"Of course. Grumm's making it out to be the end of civilization as we know it." I sighed.
"Well it looks like a whole bunch of them forgot to take off their dressing gowns this morning and decided that today is the day they make their stand nonetheless." My little sneak jested.
I smiled. "Keep me posted. How's the "honourable" Mr Cow's "fine wine"." Asked my voice, as if playfully pondering it.
"Tastes like monkey's . Not worth the gold we paid. But its wine nonetheless. Our boys are filled with a pleasant dose of courage. I hope we don't have to pander to this friend of yours much longer. Will we?"
"Don't worry." I scoffed. "We're leaving that slug to burn in the salt. He's no friend to me. A lost cause to our business. No further business will be done with that cheating swine."
"Well let's be fair, everything looks like a steal after the deal I got us on the old iron kit." Linx suavely reminded in his cocky manner, sliding out onto the balcony of the apartment and looking down upon me.
"I'm sure there's a grey lining to this silver cloud somewhere Linx." I put down. "How's things going for the rest of you?"
"Pretty decent. Little windy up here though." Commented Secret.
"Meh." Key dismissed, painting the image of him shrugging uncaringly very vividly within my mind.
"Some great deals on cabbage here." Remarked ABB absent-mindedly from the merchant stalls surrounding the fountain at the centre of the square.
"Excellent. See if you can find us some paprika and potatoes. I'll make us a fine cake." Astro interjected, inserting his old earpiece and talking avidly into his sleeve. I couldn't help but laugh nostalgically. Astro's cooking was notoriously bad, and he didn't realise it. Aaron, Secret and I had learned just to humour him during our year of travelling the world. My laughter was reciprocated by the other affected parties.
"How did you get this frequency?" Linx inquired, stunned.
"Because Astro and I designed, or rather redesigned the bloody things." Aaron laughed.
"More like salvaged and spit-shone." Astro corrected.
That was when the first shot was fired from the roof of Hellmann's casino, the echoing crack flinging itself across the city. It carried itself gracefully past my ear and straight into Astro's shoulder. And so the astronomer fell backwards disbelievingly, a stream of crimson retreating from his body as heated lead destroyed its home. The black iron legs dug themselves into the ground, scraping horribly as they too buckled from the force of the blow. With the greatest clatter the wizard lay on the ground, dust coating his curly black forest of hair.
I couldn't even cry out in distress, surprise striking me heavily. Yet instinctively I managed to thrash around, seeing the silhouetted figure reloading his rifle from the rooftop. I had between 10 and 20 seconds depending on the model he was using. Then followed the roughly path of the bullet. There was a precise hole through the centre of the sunflower that had sat between us. I couldn't help but wonder whether Huskers had escaped. I looked back again, still too dumbfounded to help Astro or even say anything. I snapped back around again and sure enough the figure had similar white hair and stature. The rifle was also a big giveaway.
Then I became aware that my friends were screaming into my ear.
"Kay what the hell happened?" Shrieked Aaron as he ran towards me with ABB in tow.
"Kay the pride movement is moving in. And they're well-equipped. Good god..." Linx shouted, trailing off at the end as if finding something else to garner his attention.
"Kay, I'll handle crowd control." Key simply told us, attempting quite successfully to take full command.
"The shooter is mine." Growled Secret, instincts kicking in.
Then a second shot was fired, which I only just avoided with a quick dive beneath a table. Then as he reloaded I straightened just in time to see Secret's arrow soar across the plaza and strike my assailant, who strangely hadn't moved, or even reloaded. Straight through it sailed, stopping with a thud that need only be witnessed to imagine. It was piercing right where the stomach and the chest meet each other, leaving him just alive enough for Secret to get over there and apprehend him and squeeze some few answers out of his dying form. It was his method. Sometimes he just did it for the enjoyment of watching the death... Sometimes I worry about him...
"Be careful Secret. He's not dead yet." I cautioned distractedly, ducking down once more as a group of three noble, rebellious Thaums with muskets (easily the best armed out of the whole lot) decided to take pot-shots at the bourgeoisie vermin residing within that evil, spiteful, deceitful... totally random café in the middle of a city when they could be attempting to deal with something of strategic importance. "Its Huskers... I think. Just bear with me on that." And so I stood bolt upright as they reloaded, and with a flick of my wrist and the click of some unseen mechanism the perk sprang into my hand. I squeezed the trigger slightly and two shots popped out, felling one of my assailants. The other two panicked and began to flee from my badass shooting.
I fired twice more, but not to half as much success. One simply caught a sack of flour and coated a few cowering innocents in a ghostly pale, much to their distaste. The other managed to catch one of the riflemen in the back in the shin, causing him to drop and scream in pain. However, he managed to stop himself in a sort of calf-stretch and hobble away as I reloaded.
I then attempted to figure out where everyone was. Key was standing atop the fountain in the centre of the square, barking orders menacingly from Notch's weathered marble nose. Water sloshed over the bottoms of his trousers as he commanded his grizzled band of hobos and renegades like a legion of Notch's own army. I couldn't help but wonder, if this was the worst of the Divine army, how had they ever lost. The ruthless efficiency with which they encircled their attackers, moving the more mobile of the stands into positions which were more useful to them. There were roughly 30 of them, and 70 of their attackers and yet they were winning.
Secret was dancing his was across the rooftops, a mere copper glint in the sunlight. He kept on crackling triumphantly into our ears "so much for the "best sniper at Notch's disposal during the Onslaught"!" Eat it Brit!" He would occasionally - just to show off - fire an arrow mid-leap and pick off some rebel who was climbing the fountain, either with a clean kill or by striking one of his limbs.
Linx was standing disturbingly alone on the balcony of his apartment, firing out at the savage hoards with a practised clinical method. He killed the most agile first, who posed the most threat to Key atop the fountain, with the best armed coming next, and then the bulkiest. Where were his six riflemen? A mystery.
Aaron and ABB were advancing upon myself and the wounded Astro (who for some reason I hadn't decided to immediately help). There was a single-minded fury in my friend's eyes. A determination to help. A determination to kill in order to do so. Any poor soul who got in his way must have been mad. Sadly a small flock off men decided to simultaneously reduce their brain to that of sheep, and offer them up for sacrifice. And so with a flurry of blows my comrade cut down one, cleaving his head from the rest of his body. The body staggered back confusedly a step before the legs buckled and the corpse crumbled to dust, with some customarily flying away to recreate the poor sods form.
There were eight others in the group, all learned from their comrades demise in some way. Some decided to stay back, and linger. Whilst others decided the smart thing to do would be to attack this beast as ruthlessly as possible and kill it before it took that liberty of themselves. No matter how they learned, they all figured out that this was one who did not shy away from war.
And then there was ABB, who had her hefty hammer clasped in hand, contrasting comically with her tiny frame. One of the young ones decided to snicker, much to his misfortune. For the lady didn't take kindly to ridicule. She ran at him, dodging away at the sight of a knife coming forward at her abdomen. She used this peril to her advantage, whirling around and gripping the wrist of her opponent like a vice and pulling it straight as the young rebel gawped. ABB then took her hammer and smashed the young man's arm at the elbow, causing him to roar and spasm, and to drop his weapon and whimper away home to lick his wounds.
Then three more came at her, more ready for her methods now. She was definitely in peril. Aaron, I knew was fine against those odds, but Abby I was not so confident about. No not because she was a woman, but because her effectiveness relied heavily on surprise, and this in turn relied on the fact that she was a woman. And it looked like these three were far less susceptible, with their stone-faced nature. I glanced back at my fallen comrade in a pained manner before deciding to hop over the barriers of the café and enter the fray briefly.
I ran forwards and took the largest one's legs from beneath him with a single swing from Amicus, the lower left leg flying freely away from the rest as it clattered to Earth. My comrade gratefully took advantage of their surprise to crack the skull of another with the thud of blunt, dusty metal. The last, with his rat-like features and sombre attitude stared at us a moment, before shaking his head, swearing and running off after the wounded.
Then in came the cavalry (not that it was needed), a team of Mojang soldiers ten strong, all dressed in their glorious white and blue. Their ivory-plated spears, with their pulsing blue tips were gripped firmly alongside their tiny, round, feather-light shields. Their scalpel ran in where our hammer had shattered and carved out our common enemy from within.
ABB and I resolved wordlessly to let Aaron finish his job and haul Astro from his fallen position to a nearby taxi carriage, and to the hospital from there whilst we mopped up. And so we lugged the dying astronomer to his chariot and laid him down. inside. And so I ran round to the front and without looking tossed the man driving it a fistful of coins and requested he drive our friend to the hospital and see that he was tended to. I was clasping my sword with both hands so rigid they my as well have been frozen solid, sweeping the street for anything other than fleeing civilians and grappling vigilantes. ABB was just slamming the door and coming up to meet me. Then he face stretched back in shock, and on came a voice so unpleasantly familiar, with such a rotting influence, it could have caused milk to sour and flowers to wither.
"O' Course Kay." Mocked a forced cockney. "Least I can do for you."
I whipped round to hear the whinnying of horses and feel the coarse sole of a boot connect with my forehead. I stumbled back, hand clasped over my face. Then, peeling away the mask I glared after the mysterious figure, as he turned the corner dangerously quickly. It was pointless to pursue. He was no one's game now. Too fast for us to catch up. An insult.
"Who was that?" ABB spat, as if cursing him even now.
"Unknown..." I growled.
Then Secret reached his target at long last, having stopped to help thin the ranks. This assassin was no great catch. A pathetic old dog who had let himself hesitate and get killed. He planted his feet on the final rooftop, that of the casino. He strutted his way over to his dying prey, as thick blood painted the chalky white rooftop. The rifle was there, just as described. This was it. The corpse was lying face down, robes wrapped around it. He turned it over and lo and behold, his reward. Attached to the face of the wooden dummy with a paint-bag strapped to its chest was a note that served only to annoy. It read thusly:
"Missed me. Better luck next time rookie. -H"
Then, as Secret fumed he glanced across the square to see his blind master clasping a bow not too different from his own. Then he realised it was pointed at him. He didn't have time to react properly as the arrow struck him where the stomach met the chest, and skewered him cleaner than Secret ever could. As the red-headed kebab lifted a hand from the wound, to see it covered in a deep red glove his eyes widened and he collapsed backwards. He landed in a cloud of dust as his lifeblood tainted the white roof. Then, his hand just began to crumble into dust. Relief washed over him. He was lucky like that. Just before he was reborn, he saw a man wearing a great lapis-coloured veil over his head. In each hand was a curved metal device that was partly a crowbar, and partly an ice-pick. He ran up, grabbed the rifle and then began to fling himself fro rooftop to rooftop like a ragdoll. As Secret wearily reached after him, his vision blurred, and he collapsed, and his body ceased to exist.
Linx observed this with great distress. The figure was out of his range but he had a rough idea of where he was going. And so he dispatched one last attacker before running into the apartment to muster his men. They would comb the city and one would find the other eventually. Sadly, this would not come to fruition. All his men were laid across the room, all dead; all were smiling. They all had the tranquil smile of someone who was just popping off into a great, gratifying sleep after a hard day of working. No wounds were visible. So unless they all simultaneously had a heart attack, poison was the most likely cause. The Old Cow was a traitor as well as vermin. Then he set his foot down and heard the stretching of a string.
"Kay?" He asked, panic rising within him. "Kay are you there?"
"What is it Linx?" Growled I, still shaken from the encounter with Unknown and the assassination of Secret.
"Everyone in here is dead. The Old Cow has betrayed us. The wine was poisoned." He shakily but calmly answered.
"Bugger! Get down here immediately Linx! We have to immediately scour the city for these fiends!" I seethed.
"I'm afraid I can't do that Kay." The soldier quivered.
"Why is that?"
"I think I just stepped on a pressure plate. If I have, its a bomb that's presently hooked up to the gas lighting. They must have hooked it up while I was out on the balcony."
"Linx..." Reality was hitting me again. "Linx! Don't move! We're coming up to defuse it immediately." I whirled round and saw the building as a steep cliff, at which my friend was at the top.
And so I began to run towards it, with the hope of helping him, forming an entourage as I approached it. The last of the Thaums were retreating and as a result my men were able to flock to me. Key was hopping down the fountain. Aaron was at my left, sword in
"I'm sorry Kay that can't be done either. I drank some of that wine. I'll likely be dead any moment now. When I die this'll definitely go off." There was a stone-cold acceptance in his voice now. I couldn't have been more disbelieving.
Had I been there I would have seen how he shook. How every little aspect of him wobbled as he struggled not to shift his weight in any way possible. How cold sweat was shining on his forehead. How his hands were clasped together by his face, shivering as they took that last chance to reconcile with the sins they were the utensils of. How his eyes were elevated, drilling holes into the ceiling with his gaze. I would have seen the crystalline tear, frailly sliding down his face.
"Linx I..." I tried, but no words could come.
He'd always been a proper soldier. A loyal friend. A good man. I'd never quite given him the credit he never deserved for his work. He'd been the one who'd kept the Order of Gaia running. He'd been the one who quelled mutiny in times of dissatisfaction. He'd been the one who'd kept them motivated in times of hardship. Who was I to complain of past hardships? Of having fought in the frontlines of a personal war that seemed increasingly fictitious every time I looked back on it. Of having willingly offered my soul to be a pawn in actual wars, of which I had little grasp. He had been the one who fought MY war for me for a long time.
"It's okay my liege." The calmness was creepy. "If you are an actor, you're one that deserves far more credit."
"What about you?" I was just standing there like a lost child staring incredulously at some adult.
"As for me? Well..." He paused, laughing. "Let's just say its been the performance... Its been the performance of a lifetime." Then he switched off his microphone, and I heard nothing but silence for a moment.
Then the apartment was engulfed in purple flame, followed by a deafening crack of an explosion. The force was little, but I fell backwards out of sheer disbelief. My mouth hung open and I couldn't speak. I couldn't see anything, I could just witness. I couldn't hear, and the ringing didn't help. I couldn't even weep. I could only sit there like a vegetable, gawping.
Then, as I came to grips with the fact that he was dead, and Astro was gone, and I descended into a horrible acceptance of what had happened. I knew what had happened. I was entirely acceptant that it had happened. I knew that nothing I could do would bring back Linx at the very least. But there was no goddamn way I'd let any of that slide. I would make them pay, and that was certain. The person to make pay were the people arming the Thaums. Quite a list of people to kill. Dom, Hamish and Falcon. "A pretty good line-up" I thought.
Then Aaron approached me, disconcert lathering his face. He opened his mouth uncomfortably and spoke. "I think you should see this." I obliged him, feeling that to avert bad news now was to simply avoid throwing a toothpick at an inferno.
And then I stood over one of the corpses, the torn, blood-stained purple robes hanging across his chest. He was in his late 20s, a thick grizzly beard hugging his chin. His hair was wild and ungainly. If he hadn't have lost so much blood from the wound in his side his complexion still would have been that of paper. Nonetheless, if paper could be weathered, his face was weathered as it got. The world was carved into his face with a fine chisel. He was quite well-equipped for one of The Flux (assuming he was of such a group of traitors), with dented iron wrapped around his form.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I asked, honestly confused.
At this signal, Aaron took his sword and flipped over the purple curtain to reveal the emblem on his chest. Carved in with great intricacy was a tree, bright and blossoming. Little doves were nestled in the branches, and grass was carved in beneath. At the foot of the tree was a tiny rabbit, curiously eying the observer no matter where you stood. Through the trunk was stabbed a sword with a flaming blade. As the flames danced motionlessly there did nothing to the bark of the immortal tree. At the nape of the neck was carved a familiar "K", with the ends curled up in a weak attempt at looking "fancy". I glared at Aaron.
"How did they get this?" I demanded.
"I'd assume." My friend sighed. "Its the work of our mutual friend..." And I understood. We were being played in every way.
"We need to return home! Rally any man who can walk and help those who can't. We'll regroup at the Hub and decide what to do then." I cried, mustering all my remaining strength to order about my battered army. I saw Key come forward. "Key. go and retrieve Secret's stuff for me. The rest of you just... just do some . ABB you're in charge." I sighed and took one final glance at my old cuirass, and stormed away.
So I've read Chapter 1 and the first part of Chapter 2. While I definitely enjoyed what I have read so far, I have to re-iterate a lot of what Astro said. Now, I must also include the disclaimer that my critique may be incomplete, since I have read only part of your submitted story, but I will try my best:
For one, there are a lot of different things going on in the story. At first I found the event-multitasking to be rather entertaining, but later on it simply became a hindrance to my ability to understand the story, which might be a result in a slight change in the pacing of your story, perhaps chains of events becoming more complex and entangled. It's the sort of pacing that I think would work really well in a movie, since there is visual feedback to anchor the audience in their environment, but it doesn't work as well in this case. Perhaps you could try to think of the story as a conversation between you, the narrator, and your writers. For instance, when I'm talking with somebody, I have to add conceptual glue between different things I want to talk about, so that they can follow what I'm saying. Another approach you could try would be to add symmetry to your scene-jumps in the same way that a poet structures concepts into clauses, although you'd probably want to divide your scenes into bigger chunks than just a few sentences. In general, try to think about what your transition adds to the story. Since many of the events I've read happen around the same time, it would be relatively easy to switch them around. You, as the writer, have complete liberty to alter the sequence of events of a story to make the prose flow more naturally. Heck, this applies more or less to any aspect of the story. Cut and paste, ftw!
There are also a couple of cases where the description is rather vague/open-ended, for instance, when Void grabs Dominus, near the end of the fight scene in Chapter 1:
"Fine. If you want to do it the dull way..." Responded Rage, grumbling as he closed his eyes and pointed his staff into the crowd.
Two seconds later Dominus flew from the crowd into Void's outstretched hand.
I wouldn't say the description is confusing so much as unsatisfying. There is a gap between Rage pointing his staff and Dominus popping into existence where I expect something to happen, for instance some sort of magical effect fired from the staff and an explanation for how Dominus popped into existence. It also isn't very clear how Void held onto Dominus. Is Dominus levitating magically, or is Void clenching onto Dom's neck Darth Vader-style?
I will also re-iterate from Astro that some characters feel rather underdeveloped. In particular, there are a lot of characters in your story who are merely mentioned by name, without any description to anchor them in reality. If I just hear a character by name, their name has no significance to me, and my brain registers the character as an invisible-ghost-thing which eventually fades into conceptual nothingness. Okay, maybe not quite like that. However, you really should try to give some sort of description to characters no later than just after they are first named, so as to distinguish them from the other characters. I have a feeling this was an issue because your original intended audience was a server community who already knew many of the real-life Minecraft players who make a cameo in this story.
One final re-iteration from Astro is in terms of structure: update your old posts with new chapters and bump the thread rather than having one post per chapter. The edit button still works; you just have to refresh the page after pressing the save button in order to see the changes.
On a more positive note, while I know you said that you felt your dialogue was too long, I personally felt that it was one of the strongest aspects of your writing. The character dialogue felt very real and natural, both in terms of personality and in terms of emotions.
Overall, an interesting story. I especially enjoyed the very end of what I've read so far, when it started to get more action-y and the plot started to pick up (not that slower parts of the story aren't also interesting; I just enjoyed seeing the first pieces of the story mesh together).
Well, first of all I'd like to thank you for the review. Again, truly honoured.
I definitely do get where you're coming from, especially in Chapters 1 and 2. Chapter 3 does try to improve on most of these criticism. Well, most.
Admittedly the plot gets even more convoluted, but thankfully I think it's in a good way because I'm certainly creating resolutions for the unlimited number of subplots. However, I do intend to go back over this once it's done and HEAVILY amend the first chapter or two to make things clearer. For example... what the balls is going on would be a good place to start. Set up some back-story for the world and characters in order to remove the info-dumps which occasionally appear and of course explain Dom's "little friend" a little better. Or at the very least an appendix for this sort of stuff.
On the topic of transition, can you give any specific area where the pacing could use some switching? Just as a reference point.
I absolutely get where you're coming from on the front of characters. Some are just potential plot-threads/red-herrings to mislead the reader and flesh out the world/explain parts of the backstory. Others are literally just cameo appearances in order to make people happy. Some are just purely undeveloped or don't have a purpose to the story yet. However, in Chapter 3 I have put a lot into defining many of the more important ones as legit main characters. For example, Aaron, Cossack, Secret and the other council members receive character development.
I have noticed that some descriptions are rather lacking, and when I go back over it once I finish chapter three (with Chapter 4 to go) any descriptions I feel are lacking will be fixed.
On the issue of the posts... There's not much I can do until I can get a BlogSpot to work. I did something I didn't know was possible on this forum. I made a post that was too long. I can't even put the two existing parts of the current finale to sit together. So yeah I can't do anything on THIS site, or the original forum this is on.
But yeah, thank you so much for the critique mate. I will do all I can to correct these flaws.
Regards,
kmandy
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Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
In terms of transitions, I didn't really have any place in particular where a sequence of events "stood out" as really needing a transition. I suggested it more as a general way to improve your work and explore your creative juices.
Back to the issue of the posts... I didn't realize you got a CONTENT_TOO_LONG error, so my bad. In that case I understand why there would be nothing you could do.
Overhead the lamp swung violently, as if trying to break free from its captor the ceiling so it might flee from the room like birds do before the cataclysm. In truth it swayed so because of the hundreds of soldiers clomping across upstairs, following the orders they had been assigned by myself, or rather, they had been assigned through a series of Chinese whispers starting with Cossack and ending with that strange guy who always smells like fish; they were likely completely warped, but at least something was being done. As the lamp thrashed about, rays of light lashed the dank, slimy old walls of the morgue thoughtlessly. Also beneath the lamps whip were 10 brooding creatures surrounded by old kegs of white wine, all scarred in some way by the day's events.
First there was a man of about 50 years of age, with greying hair and a handle-bar moustache, a drab lilac suit and a barrel-like belly. Usually he oozed a greasy confidence that curdled the blood of all but those who knew him well. Today however, that was silenced, and replaced with a grim concern for his comrades. He, with two others sat upon the rotting crates by the wall, covered by thin, cheap blankets to disguise them as stools. He was a banker by profession, creed and philosophy. Even now he assessed the damage done today as if they were figures in a ledger, with concern and evident investment, but it could be assumed that humanity was kept separate.
Next came the skeletal man, Gracey, who shook most uncharacteristically. His clean, youthful face was in plain view for more than two people at a time for the first time in what seemed a century. He held his old knife in its hands, incessantly scrubbing it even though it was cleaned. Little did he seem to comprehend that sin was not a stain so easily cleaned off, whether his own or another’s.
After this man came the silently weeping Bokane, whose robes were wrapped around him so tight he might as well have been mummified. His eyes were sunk back into his skull behind a blond wall, little drops escaping down his cheeks despite his persistent efforts to keep them back. His wand hung was balanced loosely over his knee. He was biting his lip in a manner not dissimilar to that of a vice.
Then, propping himself up against the wall like a discarded staff was Walt. He kept massaging his temples with force reminiscent of a grindstone. His leg appeared to have fallen victim to assault from some sort of wild animal, the ripped fabric clearly showing bite wounds beneath.
Beside each-other on the bench at the far side of the room sat two men completely different in class and demeanour. On the left was Small Doughnut, the short-tempered career killer from the Zine Craft. He had grown up amidst the aristocracy, growing accustomed to luxury and "culture" as a human right rather than a privilege. He loved the finer things in life, such as painting, theatre, expensive cigars, wine, opium and premeditated murder. His famed helmet of steel and tinted glass was still on his head, just with the metal shell lifted up to his forehead where it rested a moment. His light brown hair was cut close to his head in a military fashion. The triangular moustache he wore was immaculately cut to follow the line of his lip without question, with not a single hair out of place. Today his arm was in a sling, and he cringed every time his chest was even slightly nudged.
On the right was Key, head bowed in reluctant acceptance of Linx's death. His hands were clasped around a little tin effigy of Jeb, making whispered prayers to the Divine Council. His clothes were decorated with grime and blood, and stained in the usual places with sweat. His face too was caked with the hardships of the world, most notably with soot and scabs from his various wounds.
Two others were guards of little significance, standing before the blanketed lumps in the centre of the room. They were simply there to unveil the elephants. Both were prepared for the likely torrent of rage about to be directed towards them. Next to them stood Tejmin, whose soft round features looked half-finished, torn at by grief to the point where they hung off his face like rags.
Aaron and Pi were upstairs, organizing the barricades around our little pocket of resistance. ABB was tending to Brit and the other wounded. Secret had just spawned once more, and, due to a combination of natural weakness and a fatal blow to his ego was unable to join the people in the basement.
I was descending the roughly hewn limestone staircase, heaviness in my movement. I expected little else but the worst to await me down in the morgue (repurposed wine cellar which we used for autopsies). As the swollen wooden door was wrenched open before me, I could barely hold back the rage and grief I held after all of the day’s events. I was greeted by the damp, sickly sweet smell of sewage, coming from the drain at the far side of the room. Not overly hygienic, but we hadn’t expected to use it for anyone on our side before arrival. On the other hand, whoever thought using it as a wine cellar was a good idea had misjudged even worse.
I hauled myself with great effort over to Tejmin and the white mounds. With each step my feather-light clothes turned to lead against my skin, threatening to drag me down beneath the sea of life and drown me. The more I moved, the more they weighed. Yet if I were to stay still, I would be damned. No way out, just two choices, dignity or peace; my old dilemma.
“Casualties.” Said I. It should have been a question, but came out as a statement.
“Yes they are.” Tejmin answered soberly, assuming I was asking about the mounds he guarded with a tamed vigilance.
“No. Sorry, I wasn’t clear enough. What are our casualties?” Asked I, struggling to keep irritation out of my voice.
“Ah!” Said he, putting some energy back into his voice, seeing the sorry state I was in. “Well, considering the scale of the attacks, we got off lucky. Legion fared far worst, with many bombs going off on their turf. The others were mostly unaffected. We lost nineteen soldiers. Ten men were injured. One civilian died. A golem lost an arm. The… The warehouse burned down.”
“What?” Snapped I, this piece of information catching me off guard. “Why didn’t you stop them?!” I added, head whipping towards Small so fast you could have felt it across your face.
“It’s the reason my arm is in a bloody sling Kay.” Small retorted. “I was attacked. Some ****-end threw a rock at me and cracked a few ribs as well as my collar-bone before trying to do my head in. What was I to do? It was lucky Tejmin was there to help otherwise I would also be under a tarp.”
With that I had been successfully put down. I decided to abandon the train of conversation and ask what other casualties we had. After all, it would just have caused complications, using a warehouse full of Thaumic rebels as evidence against Hamish after they just blew up half of the city would cause too much trouble. Would look like we were involved somehow. We still had the butcher and the mousy kid.
"Well." Tejmin sighed. "Best you see for yourself."
He pulled up the first tarpaulin to reveal the charred, but still loosely recognisable body of Linx. He then took a few moments to just stare at Linx. A few moments too long for me. I couldn't bear to look at my failure.
"Pull the tarp back up." Tejmin looked up in weak protest. "Just pull it back up. Cossack, did Linx have any family?"
"He had a brother." Said Cossack. "A twin. In the theatre business. He was in the thing I was in today actually." He chuckled nervously. "He's done quite well for himself, very popular among the upper class here. However, I could swear from what I saw today that he didn't have a clue what he was doing. Suppose that just reflects on these idiots' terrible taste doesn't it Kay? Kay?"
I'd paused. Linx had mentioned his brother before, but had always said he'd been killed in the Palmer's "Scarlet Crusade" against the Realm. Had he been lying to me? Then I realised how little I knew about him. What he liked in terms of literature, theatre, music, even food and drink. I knew he was called Linx, and had a hazy idea of how he had come into my employ. I knew he was the head of the Order of Gaia and was almost blindly loyal to his employers. I knew he had managed to survive a 50 foot fall into a lake of fire. I also knew that he was the one who told me about Austin, claiming he had approached him with some bold promises about the Silhouette. I didn't even know his second name... Or if he had one. Good lord I felt like an arsehole.
"Yes Cossack. Quite." I said stiffly laughing in a hollow manner that sounded unintentionally condescending. "I already knew about this Tej, who's the other one?" Fear started to rise in me like boiling water. Who was it?
Then the tarp was lifted to reveal a green speckled face. On the gurney lay Mini, green face faded to a sickening pale imitation of the colour. The mighty build so many had once feared so unjusly was now toppled and useless against Death - that old shadow. His black eyes for the first time were no longer calm, just empty and soulless, with the little creases of fear still frozen around the edges. His wounds... Good Notch his wounds!His neck had been savaged mercilessly, as if by a wild dog, or a man equally as brutal and eager. Then of course, the smile. Around his mouth was pasted coagulated blood, standing out against his sickly skin in a way which resembled a particularly nightmarish clown.
I did my best not to vomit. I didn't have much else to do. I wasn't sure what else to do. Should I have wept? Should I have burst out in anger? Should I have taken command and immediately sought out those responsible? Should I have tried to laugh it off? Should I have given in and just laugh for the sake of laughing?
But no, for a few minutes I just stood there like a lost child, back to square one. Evidence against Dominus - gone. Mini - gone. Linx - gone. Astro - gone. Sanity - slipping. My weapons were in the hands of my enemies. Complex 3 was still an enigma and I didn't even know whether he was real or whether he was in the roof at that moment. And Hamish was laughing it up back at Dom's estate. Wonderful
I eventually brought myself back to reality, and decided to burst out in anger. Lips curling upwards in rage, air snarling through my nostrils, eyes going bloodshot I slammed my toe into the metal gurney. Then, realizing how unwise it was to do this without steel-tipped shoes on, I recoiled, howling and cursing. As I hopped backwards I continued to breath heavily. Regaining my balance I resolved just to stand there and breath, fists clenched. I'd sworn to myself, to them, to the world that I would get them through this. That promise now lay dead as the pair before me. But I could still bring this ******* in. This wasn't the way it was supposed to have happened. But it hadn't gone totally balls up yet.
Bokane stood up and took Mini's hat nervously. Under an interrogative look he explained, "It's his father's. Once this is all over I'll deliver the news personally."
"Kay?" Cossack prompted nervously from his makeshift stool. "What are we going to do now?"
"Well, what happened first." Said I, trying to recapture my old optimism. "We need to determine if there's a pattern to the attacks. Anyone else get attacked individually? Walt you start."
And so I bought myself some time, before I moved on. Once I started moving, I wouldn't have the choice to stop.
There was a definite pattern. Walt had been attacked by a "wild" dog. Key had been at the attack in the square of course, and he did note that a few seemed to have a particular animosity towards him. Small of course had the incident with the rock. Cossack had dispatched the ogre. Brit and Gracey were attacked by the Silhouette and Glibby, and it can be assumed that the firing squad was intended for them. Astro had been incapacitated by Huskers and abducted by Unknown. Huskers seemed to have been there specifically for Astro and Secret. Pi claimed to have been attacked by someone in our brief encounter upstairs. The only ones who hadn't been directly attacked yet were myself, Bokane (who had been drugged throughout this), ABB and Aaron. It could be assumed, that this mysterious veiled figure was intended for one, or all, of the three of us.
"So, that implies something unpleasant." Cossack helpfully suggested.
"What might that be?" Said Small, irritated by the vagaries.
"Well, one might draw from this, that our enemy had the advantage of knowing precisely what we were going to do and where we were going to be. From here, there are two major paths. The first is that our enemy has had us under heavy surveillance for the duration of our stay. While it is improbable, it is possible, especially with this "Silhouette" and his apparent investment. You have complained to me about being followed by Void, Ryan and the Brotherhood among others have you not my dear Kay? Did you not single one out to me early in the week? Tall bloke? Narrow features?" There was something else in these last statements that suggested he had noticed something which I hadn't.
The cockiness which came with this was sickening. The fact that he could be so arrogant and yet brownnose so unrelentingly was startling. Had I let my council really get this bold?
"Supposing one did follow this train of thought - not to say that I have - we can assume that Kay is above suspicion. He would simply be cutting off his own arms. ABB, I would personally doubt she of all people had the will to do such a thing. But of course, the Falcon has proved just how malicious the female mind can be." Seeing the disapproving looks from Tejmin, Key, and a troubled look from myself he quickly added. "Well am I wrong?"
"Not necessarily. Proceed with your reasoning." Said I, knowing he was afraid of invoking my rage. I would not tolerate mutiny in my ranks. This was as close as any among the Council had come to acting against me. I wasn't sure I quite approved
"Aaron is a good man. I wouldn't say that he is above suspicion. However, I would say that the likelihood of him even realising the profit in such an arrangement - no offence intended to the man in question - is low. Plus I've never seen him harm even a simple vagrant without reason. Why he would organise the systematic murder of his friends is beyond me. That leaves one person... If one were to pay such heed to reasoning such as this."
We all looked at the person he was referring too. The mage was glaring at Cossack with a passion. The two had never gotten on very well, but since the two were appointed to the council they were actively out to destroy each other's reputations.
"Listen you treacherous worm." Bokane burst out, rising to his feet and standing over the banker with his hands balled into fists. "I WAS attacked. I was drugged. Remember?"
"He has a point, Kay." Murmered Walt, cutting across a smug Cossack and rubbing his wounded leg as if he were removing his house keys from a metal surface on a hot day. "I found him completely smashed in the bar."
"Well, surely the culprit would organise a minor attempt on himself. It would guarantee his survival and divert suspicion." Key suggested. He had moments like this where he saw things before the rest of us. These felt uncharacteristic and yet he couldn't be imagined without them.
"Precisely." Cossack said with an air of finality. "That's not to say Bokane did it. It's just to say - stop that guard before he leaves the goddamn room!"
We all whirled around to see one of the guards, thin and narrow in build run off towards the stairs. However, before he could rise even two steps Walt had heroically caught him in a spear-headed tackle an slammed him against the hard stone wall. The "guard" hit the wall first with his back, and then his head followed suit and the base of his skull whacked off of the jagged stones. Thankfully the only damage to either men was to the impostor's pride and his captor's trousers getting mildly damp.
I stormed over as Walt rolled off painfully and stooped, picked the dazed man up by the throat. I then slammed him into the wall a second time, forcing a low moan from his lungs. My nostrils were flared, eyes seeing only red and blood boiling in my veins.
"Who sent you?" I demanded loudly as his vision seemed to clear. When he just stared quizzically I asked the same question of him in a far colder, restrained manner that was somehow even more intimidating to him.
"It was Atreidon! He thinks you've lost it or something! I don't know! He just pays me and I tell him what you do every day!" He whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."
So that was who was responsible. The old archangel had betrayed us. We had shown him mercy. We had forgiven him for his sins, accepted him as our brother. He had drank with my men, and laughed with them, and enjoyed our goodwill and this was how he repaid me. And here, a man possibly even worse. A snivelling coward who had sold out the house that fed, clothed and trained him. Had I not been the merciful creature I am I would have had him killed on the spot. But I was merciful, so I simply clipped his wings.
"Hold this wreck for me." I said, and Tejmin and the other guard were the first to answer my call, both stern-faced and sickened as I was by their comrade. The feeling seemed to be reciprocated around the men in the room. They held the petrified man against the wall, who writhed like a worm in the dry, suffocating sun.
And with that I broke his legs. Two stomps. Two satisfying crunches. It felt good to let lose on someone who deserved it. Then, as I was about to begin pummelling him - perhaps breaking a rib or two, I saw the look of terror in his eyes. The pain. He hadn't had enough, but he didn't deserve that. I settled for a swift kick to the loins. He yelped, biting down on his tongue just to give himself something to do.
"Take him away... Prison ward." I panted, feeling exhausted despite having done little. What was I doing?
And so the morbid pair dragged the man clumsily towards the prison ward, not caring for how they banged the shattered glass-remains of his legs against stone. I couldn't help but feel something was not right. Yet I wasn't sure if it was with myself or with the situation. I wasn't acting myself. I needed rest but I couldn't afford to. What to do next was the question to focus on. "Think you git. Use the brain you boast of." Even the voices in my head were working against me. Wait, was it normal to have voices in your head that insult you? "Err... Yes. Of course. Are we not allowed to have opinions too? That's a really racist question." They said uncomfortably, as if I had just asked something outstandingly stupid. This was all I needed to be convinced really. Then inspiration finally arrived, apologised to the rest of us, explained he got lost on the way here and gave his latest pitch.
"Bokane?" I summoned, drawing the mage's attention. "Who was with you in the bar that could have known about the meeting with Austin?"
He seemed disconcerted, as if he'd omitted something and it was now close to be required. What was he hiding?
"Well, I didn't know. I knew Mini was needed for something but not what or where. Did Linx already know?" He asked, trying desperately to play dumb.
"No he didn't. Mini was the only one supposed to know." He was really boiling my pan. "I would highly advise you tell me whatever it is you've forgotten to mention, old friend."
"Now Kay-"
"Tell us Bokane." Key tried calmly. "You're among friends. Kay won't get mad will you?" I made sure to nod faithfully at his prompting.
"Mini blabbed." He heaved. "Atreidon was with us in the bar and he was in one of his moods. Mini felt bad about leaving him and mentioned Austin's name. Key and Linx were too busy feeling uncomfortable to notice. I was left on the fringes working through the balloon scenario and heard everything. Atreidon is also the one who bought me the drink that knocked me out. He said it was his usual."
"Thank you for telling us this." I said mechanically, voice quivering like a rusted machine that kept sticking. He'd been hiding this for more than just fear of ratting out a dead man. He was afraid of me. I couldn't be more hurt.
"I'm sorry it slipped my mind-"
"No it didn't. Don't lie to me Bokane. You're afraid of me. Tell me why Bokane?" I pried, pan being heated once again.
"I swear it was just a lapse with all that happened y'know?"
"Don't lie to me. Why are you so afraid of me dear friend?" I was struggling to stay calm.
I began to slowly inch towards him, and he to slowly back towards the cider barrels on the other side of the room. The wild lashing lights didn't help the feeling that this was an interrogation. A few more minutes of prompting and he was backed against one of the barrels like it were a cliff. The others had begun physical intimidation. Most were just glaring at him. However, Cossack was cracking his knuckles, and Gracey had his hand nonchalantly planted in his knife-pocket.
Then his defences cracked and all came rushing out like ants from a flooded colony. "I have reason to believe you've been less than generous with the truth about how you escaped the church. There's no way you could have survived in the way you did. As a result I have reason to believe you may be hiding something from us."
So this was how mutiny tasted. Bitter, impure and I had a desire to crush it before more was produced. And how Bokane, sweet Bokane, the one who I had trusted as Astro's replacement could be the one ungrateful and venomous enough to start it. It was too much.
That was when my fist connected with his jaw, and I shrieked out obscenities at him. He felt to his knees, but was not as incapacitated as I had hoped when I threw a kick at his ribs. Bokane whirled and caught the blow with his forearm, flashing a blinding light at my face from the tip of his wand. All was white and spots made my eyes feel like they had a new leopard-print. I staggered a few steps before being pushed back with great force. Vision returned to my world and I saw him there, sword and wand in hand, a shield of energy likely awaiting my next attack. The others just stood there and did nothing, unsure who to side with. At a loss as to how to end this I whipped my arm and out sprang my perk with a whir of clockwork. I raised it to Bokane's face instinctively, and squeezed the trigger.
But before I could slay the mutinous mage a blunt-headed arrow knocked the perk from my sweaty palms. I whirled my form to look at who dared to interrupt. At the door stood a stern-looking Aaron, surrounded by four guards. To his left was Secret, who looked torn between being proud at his admittedly skilful shot, or fearful of the consequences.
"Kay, what is the meaning of this?" Aaron demanded, scolding us both. "Have we not suffered enough loss without killing each other. Was it not the Flying Spaghetti Monster himself who said that a "house divided cannot stay upright in a manner similar to standing"." Upon seeing my incoming correction and protest he added, "What if you had killed him Kay? What if he was dead and Hamish showed up with his attack elephant? You know how susceptible elephants are to magic!"
Despite the nonsense I could barely fight the urge to agree. Cutting off my arms would only leave us weaker. But at the same time, this level of mutiny was disgusting. Treachery was everywhere. Could I trust any of them? Could I trust the people I was trying to protect?
"Sorry," I conceded, offering my hand to Bokane for reconciliation. "I don't know what came over me. Come, let us have lunch." And so we began to sweep from the room.
Before we were all caught up in the bustle of dinner, and I was absorbed in explaining the Atreidon situation to Aaron, Cossack tried something. "Kay, your people leave for the Initiative today. They'll be scared. Will you be present to deliver a statement to calm their nerves?"
I'd forgotten completely about this.
"Well, err... No I will not be Cossack. I have more important things to attend to. Will you deliver the statement to them for me?" He seemed disappointed but complied. He asked if I had any suggestions. "Just tell them to keep soldiering on." And so I continued off up the stairs, unfazed.
But Cossack remained behind in the morgue, frowning. Something was wrong, very wrong indeed. A few months ago and I would have been running amidst the ranks offering obscene words of optimism. He would have to help me through this. He resolved that he would be my anchor. Whenever he was needed he would be there. If only I had understood before it was too late. And so, before leaving he returned to the corpses, kissed each on the foreheads, and tucked them in before hurrying up after us.
The dining room - with its green wool carpet and polished spruce panels - lay still as we ate. It was caught in a sad, lonely silence. None of us were comfortable in the presence of our peers. The food, whilst good, was wasted ash upon our tongues. Eating was all I could do to suppress the fear of treachery, despite the fear that even then someone had poisoned my food. It was the lesser of two evils, die without knowledge before you lose your dignity. The full council was there, with the exception of ABB, who remained the surgery of her own accord to eat alone and "attend to some paperwork". Every now and then Cossack, Small or Gracey would shoot a dirty look at Aaron and Bokane. Secret seemed torn, as if wanting to be indignant at his punishment, yet had none to be indignant about. Cossack, Aaron and even Walt would occasionally look upon me with great concern and worry. I suppose most might assume they were wanting me to do something. If anything, they were more afraid of me doing precisely that.
Once we had finished, I dismissed the servants, had guard placed at the door (consisting of Secret and Bokane who resolved to murmur among each other conspiratorially), and explained to Aaron what was going on. The whole time, I was avoiding at all costs the duel between me and Bokane. He seemed to take it in his stride. Atreidon, the drugging, Mini's death. I wasn't sure whether to feel concerned or reassured. Believe me, I tried to feel reassured. After careful deliberation, he reminded me I was the one in charge these days. ******* was playing mind games.
"Well," I said, masking my distaste. "I recommend that we send out people to tell Void about Atreidon. In fact, Tejmin! Get in here will you?"
In stooped my new captain of the guard, green beret held underarm. He stomped, clacked his boots together, and made the traditional salute. It started by slapping the chest open-palmed, and ended with the arm bent at a 90 degree angle with the palm wide open. "Yes?" Droned he, and he quickly added, "My liege?"
"Tejmin, you have suffered great losses, we all have. You have held strong nonetheless. In memory of first Dawz and now Linx, I ask you to take his place at the head of the Order." Said I, putting on as official a tone as I could, pulling out Linx's old badge.
I had plucked it from his corpse for this purpose. Some might call that looting the dead. I called it providing a memento. Giving him a reason to keep fighting. I looked down upon the little gold dot. In the centre had once been an embossed tree of Gaia, with a flaming sword rammed through it. Around the edges were once the words the words "Gaia vitae". But now the bottom half of the blossoming tree was completely scorched off. I smiled to myself, remembering how he always used to wear the badge upside down. At first it was an accident, but then it just became a running gag. Hang on...
But before I could complete the thought Tejmin took the badge from my hand with purpose. He then placed his hand on my shoulder sturdily. He stared into me with morbid gratitude. Then, he embraced me firmly. It was unorthodox yes, but not meaningless.
"Atreidon will pay. The Overlord will pay. They'll all pay. You have my promise. I won't let you down." He whispered. He was fully on board. I no longer had to pester the Cow to little avail.
"Then make sure Atreidon doesn't survive the night. Make it look like an accident if you can." I returned.
"Any recommendations?"
"Remember what happened to Josh's brothers?" He nodded ever so gently that only I could tell.
Then our embrace ended, and the pact was sealed.
Immediately after lunch, Tejmin was waiting in the stables, completely alone. In his hand was a small sack of precious stones. The floor was covered with straw so thickly that you could have sworn the building's very foundations were made of the dried out stalks of wheat. The horses shuffled their feet, unaware of the exchange about to take place, but still looking wary. Every now and then a nervous whinny would go out through the stalls, only to be consumed by the dull wood, and the stifling hay. The late afternoon sun kept the stables just bright enough for Tejmin to see without a lamp, despite the knobbly and rain-eaten doors being shut.
Then there was a thud behind Tejmin, who turned around calmly to face it, hands on the hilt of his knife at all times. Just a precautionary measure to keep him alive if this went sour. Before him hunched the man in the blue veil. His hook-like blades were still clasped in hand, as usual. He was breathing heavily, as if having ran some distance.
"A little late to be visiting me isn't it Tejmin?" He spat.
"Hello Nek." Tejmin return genially. "How's the doc?"
Nek was one of the best in the business. Master of framing other assassins, bounty hunters and even random civilians. Never showed his face either. Tejmin wasn't even sure what he looked like. The few who had seen his face all described a different man. Some placed him with auburn hair, others with dark black. Some described him as a half-breed while others described him as an Endling. And thankfully, Tejmin had managed to help him out of a sticky situation a while back, learning the secret to his success in the process.
"What is it it?" Nek requested, ignoring the question entirely.
"Atreidon. Don't stop hunting until he's dead." Tejmin elaborated. "I'm aware you have acquired a certain asset, which may aid you in this process. How long do you have it for?"
"I return it at midnight. However, I must ask what makes fitting this into my busy schedule worth the effort? I have another contract running tonight and I may not have time to deal with him."
"Of course. This is of course a long term contract. It's only completed when Atreidon's head is mounted." Tejmin said, before rattling the bag mercilessly. "This to ensure compliance. Ten pounds of diamond, six of emerald. I'll send the doc Twenty pounds more of each when the deed is done."
"Sounds like a plan."
Tejmin smiled. The storm was upon them, and they were in control.
Bokane's Perspective: An account written years later
Bokane left the meal unsatisfied. He had eaten little of course, but of course the reason he hadn't was the important factor. Just for a minute, the cracks had begun to show in my facade. It satisfied him that he had managed to off "that cocky git" so much. However, he was also afraid of what this meant for him. You see, whilst he would never admit it, Kay had a bad habit of side-lining himself, Mini, Key and sometimes even Small as a "B-Team" of sorts. Perhaps even a C-team when Kay was in a bad mood. They were the last to receive praise and the first to be criticized. Worse yet, Kay seemed to expect him to be Astro's complete replacement, and seemed disappointed with anything not entirely identical to what his predecessor would produce.
"You have every right to wind him up." He would tell himself. "You're the backbone of this bloody operation and he treats you like little more than a pet rodent."
But this had gone beyond winding up an unjust boss. Bokane was convinced there was something off about Kay. There had been since he failed to save Prodigy. Since Hamish returned it had just gotten even worse. Kay was obsessing, it's what he did. It started with Hamish; then went to defeating the Endlings; then Hamish again; then things got better for a while; then there were ten years of war upon the Brotherhood; then with the Nether Hub Kay seemed to recover once more; and then of course Hamish returned once more. To be honest, Bokane wasn't sure Kay had ever gotten over Hamish. Every time Hamish or anything to do with his past before Zine Craft was mentioned, Kay would fall quiet and moody for the next hour or so. The best they could help for was that he would desperately try to change the subject and conversation would become hopelessly awkward for the next twenty minutes.
Bokane supposed he couldn't blame him entirely. They had lost so much in the last few months. They'd all taken a huge blow to morale as a result. But Kay, despite soldiering on, seemed to take it the hardest. He seemed to feel that every man lost was as a direct result of his own incompetence. Now that the man who had ruined his life had shown up as a key supporter of his enemy, was he truly at fault for going a little crazy and acting secretive? However, on the other hand Kay was being a total distrustful , and had just tried to blow a hole in his head. Why was life filled with so many moral dilemmas?
As he came up to the surgery on the way to his room, Bokane came to a conclusion. He determined that he had in fact been rather suspicious of and hostile towards Kay as of late, and that he had exaggerated many of his boss' shortcomings. He also determined that I would snap out of this once they were out of Mojang and had me out of the same neighbourhood as my enemy. As he came up to the door of the surgery he started making promises to himself. He would be loyal. He would give Kay no reason to be angry with him. He would perform so well Kay may as well do away with Cossack and Aaron and have him as his most trusted confidant. He would - not get involved. He wouldn't look in. He wouldn't pay attention to her. He would - look in to see ABB weeping against the desk. But he most certainly wouldn't - walk in and say hi. God dammit.
"H-Hi A." Bokane stammered. "You okay?"
"Oh hi. Hi Bokane." Said ABB, wiping her eyes, faking a yawn and pulling herself together. She then proceeding to reach around for something to look busy with. "Just catching up on some work."
Bokane wasn't convinced. "ABB we've all been hit hard today. It's no shame to show it. Okay, perhaps not to the extent Klueless shows it but still avoiding that level should be fine." Bokane chuckled. Abby didn't seem to get the joke.
"What about him?" She asked.
"Just avoid breaking prisoners’ legs and pointing a gun at my head and it'll be fine."
"What?"
"Never mind. It's not all that interesting."
"Nah I'm interested."
"Well," Bokane considered. "Nah I'll just sound snarky."
"Oh." ABB accepted. "I understand."
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Bokane in truth sort of had a thing for her but was never able to say anything beyond getting himself deeper entrenched in the battlefield that was the friend zone. But this wasn't cliché because he's a wizard! Oh wait... He had come in with the hope of perhaps winning some points for sympathy and perhaps actually gain some ground. However, he just ended up feeling like a scumbag for not only attempting to take advantage of her in the most vulnerable position ever but trying to use Kay for a cheap laugh. He tried to think of a way to reconcile himself, perhaps lift her spirits. Abby broke the silence first.
"I miss Linx."
"I miss him too, he was a good friend."
"Yep, I can't believe he died so soon after proposing."
Had Bokane been drinking something he would have engaged in the ultimate spit-take. He could barely control his shock reaction and managed to stifle it to a "Linx was engaged? Who to?"
"Me." At this point the contents of Bokane's bowels emptied with entirely and he head whipped to ABB at breakneck speed. "You didn't know?" Bokane shook his head. She let out a sad chuckle. "I thought everyone had caught on. I'm pretty sure even Klueless suspected something. Linx decided to keep it quiet until this whole Dom business was over." She pulled out a small silver ring with a little shred of emerald inlaid at the crest and glinting like a mighty sun rising over the horizon and twisting it thoughtfully. "Or morale was so low we needed a wedding to stop the men shooting themselves." The two laughed with great unease.
Bokane couldn't feel like more of an . Not only was he trying to cosy up with a girl in mourning, but it was also his mate's fiancé. Brilliant. All he needed now was Atreidon to show up. Then he heard the window slide open.
"Now before you hurt yourself please let me speak." Said the old archangel, hands spread out defencelessly.
Bokane rushed at him, and was about to connect his sword with the meat of Atreidon's shoulder. At the last moment he dodged to the right, and grabbed Bokane's arm firmly. With a quick twist Bokane's purple broadsword plummeted towards the ground. The clanging sound would alert the guards. At least that's what Bokane believed, for there was no clanging sound. Atreidon had caught the blade between thumb and forefinger, before twirling it round to the handle for use. Bokane reached for his wand, but found the tip of the cold, deliberating metal pressed against his neck. He could have sworn he heard it whispering, debating with itself as to whether to kill him or not.
Atreidon then crouched, concealing himself behind a desk, and moving the blade down towards the stomach as the clangs of a patrol grew nearer. Atreidon's eyes darted towards the door and he gave Bokane a little jab. The instruction couldn't be clearer.
"ABB be a darling and get the door will you and get the door? It's letting in a horrible draught." Said Bokane, glaring at his assailant.
To be honest, Atreidon looked just as scared as he felt, but had a greater feeling of purpose to him. This was a man who wasn't afraid to lose anything. Perhaps there was nothing left to lose. Had his employers betrayed him? Had Void caught on? Was Void just really fast in responding to Kay's messengers.
Abby followed his instruction with a curious vigour, but also a spiteful aura. She actually looked like she was about to slam the door before seeing the guards stalking their way down the hallway. Two men with genial faces who she knew well. She exchanged a few pleasantries with them to avert suspicion.
"How goes the watch Gaians?" She jested, her voice subdued.
"Dull as ever." Replied the shorter of the two, a man called Joseph. He'd been a singer before joining the Gaian army and his voice had a magical quality even in such dull speech as this. "Is that Bokane I see in there?"
"Halloa!" Bokane called, raising a hand respectfully.
"You don't look so swell sir." Said the taller and lankier of the two, a young farmer called Taxi. He spoke slowly, with a heavy drawl creeping through his thick, lead-like lips.
Bokane cursed himself and wiped the sweat from his brow, and attempted to put some colour back into his face. Atreidon pressed the blade towards the base of his spine. "It's nothing, just a cold I was wondering if ABB could help with." The archangel slackened the sword and Bokane could swear he saw him smirk approvingly in the corner of his eye.
"Ain't no fancy healing magics can fix that." Joseph belted, taking an eager step into the office. "I'll get you the recipe for a nice fiery soup-"
"Don't you have a patrol to be on?" Bokane interjected at the feeling of a jab into the small of his back. Feeling rude he added, "Kay's not himself this evening and trust me, he won't be tolerating any nonsense."
"Alright then." Joseph answered, seeming disappointed, offended and wary at the same time. And off swept the guards and Abby slid the wooden door closed.
"This had better be important Atreidon. I was in the market for a good cold cure." ABB scolded.
"Well, this might sound preposterous but Kay is "Complex 3". He has been this whole time." Atreidon began, to the quizzical scowls of the pair. "He orchestrated the day's events fully."
"Bold claim. Any backing?" Abby quivered, rage building up but she was not sure who to direct it at.
"Kay's going to use this to attack Dom's manor and finally kill Hamish. He hired the assassin's via the Old Cow. That's why he tolerated the slug. Did you really believe he just wanted a new bartender?"
Bokane did give a look of submission on this point. It did look pretty strange that Kay would go to such troubles to please a man just because he was a "good" publican. It looked even more foolish when you considered that the old cow was the richest publican in Underworld, and third most successful in the city of Mojang.
"Kay sent the Old Cow letters the second he found out Hamish was following him." Atreidon elaborated. "He knew from prior communications that the Flux were planning an attack, and threatened to expose the Cow's connections to them the Cow laughed him down and threatened to the expose him as being without citizenship.
"So the two found themselves in stalemate. Then Kay proposed a business deal. He would make some under-the-counter payments to the Cow in return for cheap wine and in return the Cow would send on money to professional assassins. They would then take advantage of the Flux attack which was scheduled that day to launch a series of attacks on the Gaian leadership. Thing is, Kay didn't want many of the leadership to die.
"The only ones Kay said he wanted dead were yourself Bokane - I think you can guess why - and he was afraid Linx would figure it out."
"What do you mean?" Asked Bokane.
"I mean that Kay intended for the Flux to get those weapons. He got the Cow to send Linx a buyer for your old armour sets. Kay, to his credit, made sure the majority of the equipment was either defunct or inferior to the average, making the Flux more easy to defeat. Nor did he know of Hamish or Dominus' involvement in the organisation.
"Quintus caught on. Decided to confront Kay about it. Sadly Dom thought he was defecting and didn't know the equipment was defective. So he sent Huskers to kill him. Kay figured that if Quintus could catch on, Linx might figure it out too. And so... Today happened."
"Why did you drug me?" Bokane asked, even though he supposed it was self-explanatory.
"The drink was Mortbrush, or at least that's what Beatman called it. It's a derivative of a drink that slows your heart down to a level which could kill you - called Mortprettycertain - by slowing your heart down to a point where it might even stop. Beat, wanting to experience such a brush with death, decided to add a stimulant to keep the heart beating and the lungs going. You'll have the appearance of death for about three hours. He always did love getting just close enough to death to flip it off from, whilst still being out of its reach.
"As for why I did it, well, that's simple. Kay hired an assassin for you so I decided to make it look like you'd died of a heart attack or something. Thankfully the bloke wasn't bright and fell for it."
"I'm still not seeing any proof." ABB pleaded.
Atreidon at this slammed a letter down on the counter and slid it to ABB. It arrived with a depressed, whining scrape. Abby lowered a trembling hand and pulled out the first of three letters.
"Cow wouldn't give me them all. The first letter is Kay's request for Linx to be murdered, and the second is the details of Kay's payment for the "wine"."
"What is the third?" Bokane sullenly inquired.
"Kay's reasons." Atreidon answered. He then sighed and elaborated. "He's dying."
They stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure of what to say, or what he had said. Then Abby gasped, and clasped her hands over her face, and realisation hit Bokane like a sledgehammer. Of course. That explained the erratic behaviour, ranging from quirky and bombastic to angry and uncaring.
"How's it happening?"
"He didn't just walk off that blow from Antioch like he pretended to. Within a few hours of Secret, he got major back-pains. So he asked Fluffy for some healing ointments for his back and was done with it. For a while he was fine, but as the Overlord's Crusade his condition worsened. The back pains got worse and he began to urinate blood, whilst common painkillers only seemed to slow the process. He didn't want to worry anyone so he only had a few select people in on it. One of which was the recently deceased Linx, who I extracted this information from on one of my nights out with Bokane and company.
"However, Kay wasn't totally stupid so when the chance to pick up Brit and Gracey emerged he resolved to visit a reputable doctor in their area who they visited frequently. The doctor in question, S. S. Potato is one of the most reputable in his field and conveniently specialises in unseen injuries. Plus, he was completely unconnected to anyone he knew, and he was coming up for one of his monthly check-ups so he wouldn't scare anyone.
"The doctor couldn't help him. Kay had left it too long and put himself under too much strain. He was given three years to live if he was calm and collected. He got sixteen months if he continued at his current rate. So, Kay decided the best way to go about it was to live life to the fullest and not tell anyone. Sadly, his idea of living life to the fullest means settling old scores. With this Hamish rearing his head again, Kay focused his attention to that. If he survives this, he will likely turn on what remains of the Family and then the Brotherhood."
"What does Kay know of your investigation?"
"Nothing. I suspect that breaking that the poor bloke who got his legs broke was the first he realised of it, and assumed I was in fact this "Complex 3" as a result, possibly believing me directly responsible for killing Mini. So his qualm with me is legitimate in his own mind. He's not without priority."
"The sudden change in attitude?"
"Mini told me all I needed to know, Austin's name. I then ran off to help before the attacks were launched. Sadly I arrived late." Atreidon's face flushed guiltily.
"What does Void have to say about this?" Abby asked, voice cold with anger.
"He refuses to believe me, even in the face of this evidence. So I doubt he'll believe Kay based on only circumstance." Atreidon conceded disappointedly. "I'm the only one who can do anything about this."
Bokane stood silent for a moment, before letting a hoarse croak come from his throat. "I'm sorry, I can't believe you. Come on Abby let's go."
Sure Atreidon had put together a convincing case, and the letters looked legit. Where the discrepancies appeared, I had produced explanations just as sketchy. However, he just couldn't bring himself to betray me. It was against his moral code. He stormed towards the door, and placed a hand on the icy handle of the door. He dropped his head against the door with a dejected thud. Abby hadn't moved whatsoever.
"So that's how it is." Bokane mumbled, before wrenched the door open and rushing out. However, he did make sure to send it flying back with a thunderous crash on his way. The storm was upon them, and he would have no part in it.
Kay's perspective
After receiving the blow of Void's denial (an hour after lunch), I decided my best option was having a long walk to collect my thoughts, perhaps get to grips with what had happened. To be blunt, I found no solace in my solace if one can catch the drift. Everywhere I went I was tormented by the dead, their cries, silent or screeched embodied the air around me. The scheming fiends I called my friends allies hung always in my shadow, plotting to stop me at every turn. To stop me from saving them just to spite me. Aaron; Bokane; Atreidon; Tauto Chrone; Void; Ryan; Cossack; Ruary; all of them. All were seated around a table just behind me, discussing how best to bring about all our mutual downfalls.
"Self-destructive worms." Thought I. "Do they not understand that I am one of them? That I wish to do nothing but save them? I concluded that at least some did, and this was all the more sickening.
Worst of all, I could not escape my enemies. In the posters plastered across the walls, Dominus loomed in the background, seeing all and calculating everything. From every crevice In the sky I saw Falcon, and the clouds were her Family; always visible but never tangible. In every figure who passed I saw a potential Silhouette; all eying me in a perturbed manner but none giving away their names or addresses. Worst of all, in every sound I heard Hamish. The rustling of the leaves whispered his mocking into my ears. In the footsteps around me I heard him escape my grasp. In the voices of the heralds delivering Public Service Announcements to terrified peasants I heard him boast of his success. I felt him too, through the bitter autumn wind slapping me in the face. He was untouchable, but could still hurt me without trouble.
Unable to take this I had returned to the school, and retreated to my wound. On my way I had passed a sour looking Bokane. Little was passed between us but a mutual scowl as he passed me by, leaving the surgery in his dust. I thought it best to avoid entering the surgery. I wanted to apologise to Abby for not considering her and Linx's relationship - that's right, even I caught on eventually that they were best friends - in the plaza, when I left her in charge. However, from the sound of the sobbing coming from within, I thought it best to come back in a few hours. I wasn't in the mood to offer morale support to the weak.
And so, unwilling to return to my room so early, I wandered over to what was once the staff bar, and was no the officer's lounge. It was still fairly full despite the thinning it had received earlier in the day.
It was a roomed of polished brown oak panelling, with a fuzzy peach carpet. Around the edges were small four man booths. Highly cushioned heavily, these seats held two men on either side of a fine mahogany table, glazed to near perfection. This would protrude from the wall, propped up by two little supports. The corners of the table were sanded down to flat edges, so smooth one could without fear of splinters use it as a back scratcher for a solid four hours. Trust Cossack, he'd tried.
In the centre of the room was a great bar counter, attached to the wall by measurement of eight barstools. There was then a diagonal turn inwards of one stool, and then a length of four stools stretched the gap between the two counters. In the centre was a tower series of bottles and kegs of various drinks as old as the first rock that found itself upon the surface of this earth.
Throughout the room were spread the Gaian officers. The room fell from uneasy conversing between proud men in black suits and green berets and the members of the Council into a suspenseful silence.
Each member of the Gaian council seemed to have their own little clique of officers around him. Small sat in the corner of the room, debating with the man who sat across from him, who sounded suspiciously like Secret. Around them was a total of nine officers. Cossack, Brit and Gracey sat with eight amassed, all sweeping the room with a crippling suspicion, and eying a man sitting at the counter dirtily. Key sat apart from any member of the Council, with two officers around him. Tejmin stood by the door, four with him. Walt stood across from Tejmin, with three flocked to him. Pi sat at the counter next to Aaron with four immediately gathered, the centre of Cossack and his clique's venom. Around the room twelve officers found themselves undecided or independent of the other powers. Around seven officers (including Abby and Bokane) were unaccounted for.
I marched up and issued my challenge. I sat down at the counter opposite Aaron, doing my utmost to ignore him. Slowly but surely, the boundaries were drawn and men flocked to their masters. Cossack, Gracey and Brit brought their eight with them. Tejmin brought his four and two more to the counter. Key stuck with the one he pledged himself too, drawing one extra officer to our cause. Small reluctantly stood by us, with his one officer. Secret brought eight to Aaron's ranks, three stragglers following. Walt brought his three and one additional. It continued on roughly even footing from there, with us ending up two men ahead. No man dared to stay undecided.
Then, for the next hour Aaron and I had an unspoken contest of presence, locked in combat. When I reshuffled myself, he would. When he stretched, I would mimic to the amusement of my men. All the while the officers would hang around us like pawns in a chess game. The contest culminated in an unspoken drinking contest. The more we drank, the more bold we both got. We might even have begun to speak had Abby not entered.
"Aaron," She said weakly. "I need to talk to you. In private."
Aaron nodded his confident nod and followed her. I too left the lounge, unwilling to maintain this tenuous standoff when my opponent was not present. Why punish a troublesome dog who lost its head in its tomfoolery. It didn't help that it was about time to replace my bandages. When asked whether I would take dinner in my room by Cossack, I declined to eat anything until we brought Atreidon to justice.
And so I dragged myself into my room, and hurled myself onto the mercifully soft bed. It was a foolish move, sending a spasm of pain through me. I wasn't as young and strong as I once was. I reached into the drawers to the left of my bed, pulling out a fresh bandage and the bottle of ointment. poured it on liberally. I was the king of Gaia's Domain, and getting more was as simple as snapping my fingers. Just as I finished tying the bandage around my waist I saw the painting of the council under Peter, and mourning met me.
"So many died. Yet I had to hold strong. There was too little time to mourn." Thought I, "Why did I agree to the peace talks? I was weak, I should have struck again and torn the Brotherhood up from the roots. I could have stopped all this before it began... But no, I lost my nerve and here I am. The Brotherhood lives, Hamish is back and Dom is on the verge of destroying us all. I gulped, staring from photo to photo.
On the far left was myself, looking decades younger, even though this had only been painted a year ago.
To my right was Antony Mo, the warrior banker; one of the triumvirate that once ruled the Guild of the 24 Diamonds (check if this is cleared with Astro before release). He was the Boldest of us all, journeying where none dared go, master of the seas.
Ice Shark of Industry came next. The genius, the master. He who made metal ships which could travel under the lava like it were water.
Then came Peter himself, his greying mane of hair wrapped carefully around his head. Atop his head sat the crown I so rarely wore, in memory of the man.
Next was his eldest son, Josh. He was a fool who got himself exiled twice, once by his father and once by myself. We hadn't heard from him since the Overlord's Crusade. This was reassuring. He had had two other brothers, both equally foolhardy and dangerous. I feel no sadness for what happened to them.
Next, General Itzburg glared at the painter. He could try and hide his warm, soft centre all he wanted. I'd read his diaries and couldn't view him as cold and scaly since.
Then Tassadar, young Tassadar. She was just six and twenty years when she fell. She'd been kind, friendly, fun-loving, inviting, intelligent and easily the fiercest of us. Atop her shoulder, just to the right of her oaken locks and round grinning face was her pet eagle, Cyanide-Cookie. Many a time I'd asked her why she chose this name, and she'd just exchanged a knowing grin with Astro and asked me why I called my ship the "Celestial Potato". I couldn't argue with her their.
Lastly was Astro. Like myself, he looked so young, so happy.
I vowed to avenge them there and then. To make the ones responsible for destroying this great kingdom pay. "I will destroy the Brotherhood. If Dom doesn't do it himself, I'll kill every last one of them." I promised myself, snarling through my nostrils.
"Isn't that just charming." Came a stern voice from an armchair, turned towards the window and the open balcony.
My eyes darted upwards. I was about to turned when I heard the click of a perk. I looked to my right to check the tall mirror. He'd smashed it perfectly, so that nothing could be distinguished. Clever. In my rage I mustn't have seen it. He was seated flawlessly as well, so that he could trained his gun flawlessly on me, but also be invisible to me and anyone who came in through the door.
"I got your message. I came as soon as I could." The voice from the chair said. He was starting to sound more and more familiar. And I didn't like that.
Then the door swung open and in poured ABB with four guards, all armed to the teeth. So, Aaron had made his move.
"Kay Mandy, King of Gaia's domain, Lord of Frostblade, Slayer of Tauto Chrone, you are under orders from General Secret Lol and Councillor Aaron to accompany us immediately." She recited with a malicious zeal.
I looked at my side. Amicus waited there attentively, longing for blood and battle. The perk was still up my sleeve, three of four shots left. Abby was good, but when surprised she was little better than anyone else. The other four were nothing I hadn't seen before. I judged that my odds were favourable and sprung, with the man in the armchair springing with me. The Storm had come, and it had come for me.
TO BE CONTINUED
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So, here it is. The third part of the Chapter 3 finale. really gets real here. And prepare for your world to be rocked by plot twist after plot twist until it starts to crack! That or I am way too predictable and this'll do nothing to startle you in even the slightest way.
So, yeah, take the quiz above to tell me what you think of the story so far. Also, what's your favourite individual part out of all of them? There are way too many to have a poll so please tell me below. Take your guesses at where the plot is going. Tell me what you want to see more of! Click the reputation button! Do all the things!
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So, A new part today, but not from the main story. Today we receive the origins story of the world. Any other major aspects of lore will go on this precise part. So, let's go, starting with a special fictional cameo testimony in memory of the legendary Sangiin, who was sadly banned a month or two ago.
People of Mojang, The Divines have lied. We have been kept in the dark about our true story. We have been lied to about our heritage, and this is a wrong I seek to right. There once was a periodical written by myself a long time ago, based on old diaries and scraps of history. It was discontinued after four instalments. It was dismissed as a piece of fiction I had lost passion for. I tell you now my brothers, every word of that book was based on cold fact, and I was a coward to heed their threats. The truth must be known! And now... as I grow weak and feeble, and Herobrine waits on Mojang's doorstep, I shall at last swing my final blow at the deceivers. What you read now is not written by me, but by those the Divines sought to silence. The truth shall be know...- Sangiin
Rebirth
And so Steve at last faced the jaws of Infinity, the End. His people would be avenged. Ishinge would pay. But he knew not why. His world was still lost in shadows. Had his people been good and just? Had the dragon really destroyed it? Steve knew not. And he cared not. He simply understood that this was what had to be done.
He pulled out the last fabled gem, and considered it a moment. Should he really waste his life on the trivialities of a people long dead? Should he not seek to rebuild what they lost? To find those few who still breathed? Perhaps. But Steve knew not. And he cared not. And with that he opened Infinity's jaws and gave himself to them.
He awoke on a plinth of the black stone, with two of Ishinge's followers stood before him, the Endlings. They with their twisted black skin, their blade-like arms and legs, and their sword-like teeth. They with their gaping maws, with the shadow which exuded from their skin. They, the tainted ones.
They watched him, confused. They had destroyed these people in their war. The Endless War. Man had sought the power of gods. The power of Ishinge. They had been anointed by it, and it consumed them. So here man's last child stood before them. And they knew not what to do. It scared them.
Steve rose and demanded to see Ishinge, to settle affairs with him once and for all. One guard went back to the great Temple of Ishinge, on the floating isle of Terra. He knelt before the great dragon - he who sat atop the obsidian throne, and told him of the traveller. Ishinge pondered how to deal with this. He decided that the best way to slow this man down was to test him. Was he man or god? And so he twisted the Endling, making it stronger, more angry. More animalistic.
Steve grew impatient, and approached the Temple to the protests of the guard. He was about to set foot on the great stairs when the beast hurled itself down the stairs and landed before him on all fours.
"Who are you to believe you have the right to challenge a deity? Are you man? Or are you a god?" It asked in its rasping voice, panting like a great hound.
"No. I am your downfall. I am man." With that Steve beheaded it, and carried it's warped visage in his hand, and his sword in the other.
Then Ishinge sent the mother and father of the fallen guardsman.
"How did you end our son so quickly? Truly you must be a god to be so skilled in battle?" They asked of him.
Steve handed them the head back, and it was restored to it's youth. Before they could believe their eyes the body grew back into it's former shape.
"No. I am the bringer of justice. I am man." Steve answered.
Lastly, as Steve was about to throw open the great doors of the Temple, the guardsman's son hurled his spear at him. Steve grasped the spear and snapped it. Then, as the son charged with his sword, Steve felled him with a single blow.
"Why do I still live? Are gods not vengeful?" He asked, terror in his eyes.
"I am no god. I am man." Steve told him with finality. And Steve looked at the spear and it was healed. Steve gave him his life.
Thus, the first and last human entered the Temple of Ishinge. There sat the old god, atop his throne of obsidian, the source of his power. At the sight of Steve, Ishinge dropped from his plinth and stood before him, tossing his cloak of many furs aside.
"I give you one chance to leave mortal." Ishinge told him.
"I am no mortal. I am man." And Steve drew his sword once more and reshuffled his feet into a fighting stance. He tossed aside his brown cloak and glared at the god.
"So be it." Growled the lord of that realm.
With this statement Ishinge began to grow. His nails turned to claws. His pale skin turned black and grew scales. The hair atop his head receded into the skull. His eyes elongated into great purple slits. From his back sprouted great wings. He stood upon his hind legs and before Steve stood the great dragon.
From his mouth poured purple flame, which Steve just managed to avoid behind a pillar. He pulled from his back an arrow of steel. The string was stretched as far as it could go, and then flew at the dragon's snout. It struck the dragon on the left nostril and burst into flames, coating the dragon's head in fiery liquid. With Ishinge writhing like an eel out of water, Steve pulled the pickaxe from his back, and shattered the obsidian throne into many great shards. The old god shrieked and saw through the flames, he was vulnerable now.
The human drew his bow once more, aiming for his foe's neck, but with a whip of the tail the mighty bow lay in two pieces on the floor. With a breath of flame Steve was hiding behind the shards of the throne. Then in came the guardsman's son, who threw a rock at the dragon. Enraged, Ishinge bathed him in flame, but not before he could throw the Last Man's his spear. Before he could compute what had happened, Ishinge had a spear in his heart.
As Steve approached his fallen enemy, the dying god asked him, "What are you? If not a god, yet not mortal?"
So Steve answered him, "I have told you all you need to know."
And with the Steve stripped him of his power, and left the ashes of the god lying on the ground as Ishinge's Realm began to crumble.
Great gashes appeared in the skies of that world, leading to planes unknown. As the land began to break into thousands of small islands, the lucky ones fell into these rifts, escaping the creation of the empty world, The End.
Steve awoke once more in his world, daylight greeting him with zeal. He rose and looked around. He lay in a great plane, as the skies darkened and the Endlings re-entered the world. Except this time they were not here to make war. They were here to hide. He dismissed their arrival, and left the great pig-lords in their eternal apathy to deal with this crisis of their own making.
The Last Man knew what he must do. For years he journeyed, by land and by sea. Walking the whole way. With the power of the fallen god not even the boldest creatures of the night dared to stand against him. He was alone, and he was sad.
At last he reached his destination, the ends of the world. He stood on a small rowboat, beneath the floating isle of dust, staring into beyond the Veil of Sanity and into The Tempest. His right hand was raised before him, and with a flick of his sword the hand fell into the great fog of the Veil.
He pushed the boat in too, and swam back to shore, his each drop of blood creating fish as he went along. As he walked along the scorched earth of the Isle of Norwich, his blood caused grass the grow and the flowers to spring up. He raised his left hand, and from the ground sprang a throne of spruce. He sat in it, and willed the Earth to make for him a great tower of wood, and it obeyed.
When at last he finished rising, he raised the bloody stump, and sky struck the top of the tree, lighting it up, yet never consuming the leaves, creating an eternal lighthouse. And so the First Divine watched as his people poured forth into the world on boats, naked and confused, and he took them in.
Next major part short be out soon.
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It's really great so far ! Nice detail and plot! Don't stop writing
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And so, the double-edged blade of life took, and it took cruelly.
This is a big part, I even wrote a cheap musical number for it. Also, as it was "Lady Tassadar (Rip In Peace)"'s birthday yesterday, happy b-day!
Part 14: THE FIRES OF MOJANG
Account Compiled From Statements By British and Aaron
"So you're telling us the veiled man was lying in wait in that armchair over there, holding a perk and both his crowbar knives?" Brit asked the wounded ABB, who was propped against a wall with a soggy crimson bandage clinging to her hip.
"You sound so sceptical. Of course he did!" She snapped.
The crime scene was a modest one compared to some of those Brit had seen. There were definite signs of a struggle, but it was very concentrated. Four corpses, all clean kills. All were by the door in a similar place to where they seem to have fallen. No effort had been made to clear up the mess, or to even finish the job. They had very much wanted the Gaians to know. The armchair Kay often sat in was piled against the same wall as the door, four holes blown through it, torn deserts of fabric lying down on the floor around the fallen hero. It was as much a victim of the attack as well. Two shots had hit the wall, leaving hollow, imploding black sinkholes in the wallpaper that were surrounded by red splodges, as if the hot lead had been sucked in. The others had found their marks in Abby's waist and one poor guard's head.
The Council was almost in high attendance in the room. There was of course Brit, conversing with the lone witness. To his right was a hunched and deliberating Secret, examining the corpses with his narrow, Precise, hawk-like eyes. Bokane was taking a look at Kay's stash of ointments and potions. Aaron was outside, bow and blade on his back, arguing with the previous inspector. Some old zombie who had tried to have everything removed from the room. Some old codger who had wanted to immediately bury the corpses. Some old fool who wasn't even up to date with investigative techniques from the previous century, let alone the current.
Directly across from the door, the glass shield guarding the old Council of Gaia lay broken, and the councillors crumpled and vulnerable. The table that once stood before it with laurel wreaths like a sacrificial altar, was dented slightly in the centre. The legs had been bent beyond their ability, and the right hand legs had buckled, sending the altar crashing down. crushed offerings lay mashed into the chipped wooden surface. A broken mirror was behind the chair, offering a nightmarishly refracted view of a chaotic night-sky. Throughout it black smoke and grandiose explosions of bright light were multiplied, danger infinitely spread within the shards. Out on the balcony one of the tables was overturned.
Abby had informed Aaron of the information she had received from Atreidon. He had asked her to call Kay down to dinner, so they could discuss this new version of events. Fearing a repeat of the incident with Bokane, she took a few guards with her who had been outside the door. However, when she had requested Kay's presence the veiled man shot her in the hip and killed one of the guards who charged in. The other two shots had injured one guard, and the other two were taken in close quarters. She was unsure of the precise details of the fight, having been hit pretty hard in the head by Kay.
Four rounds had been emptied through an armchair, poking great holes in the fabric, using it as a silencer. Yes! Brit could see it now! The assassin fired through the back of the chair as quickly as possible. However, due to having to reposition the perk each time he was slowed down, failing to kill as many as expected. Kay had been standing before the table, and felled Abby, leaving her unconscious. Yes he saw that happening. Then the veiled man vaulted the chair, toppling it. This was where things started to not add up. If the veiled man used the knives described, he would have ended had to kill them in a dragging motion, but the way the men had fallen suggested that they had been struck by some sort of projectile. Plus, it looked like someone had been dragged to the window rather hurriedly from the collapsed table, and putting up quite a fuss. Abby was definitely withholding information. However, for now her explanation was the best theory to go with. Perhaps one of the guards had wounded Kay, and he had to be dragged out by the veiled man.
Aaron came up to him. "Any ideas?" He asked gravely, worried for his friend.
"My best guess is that Abby is telling up the truth. And her story about Atreidon checks out even with the absence of the letters. Kay has a stash of healing ointments and a recently used wad of bandages. What happens next is a mystery." Brit's voice had a strong sense of finality to it.
"Oh..."
"However," Brit continued, realising his dramatic pause was going on too long. "If I were Kay, and this story is true, I would be trying to find out about those letters, check whether the Old Cow had spilt the beans or not."
"Then that's where we head next." Aaron asked, grim optimism entering his eyes. "Bokane! You are coming with me. We're going to the Mourning Cow."
"Of course Aaron." The mage answered.
"What shall the rest of us do?" Cossack interjected, entering the room and sweeping it with a murderous glance.
Aaron was surprised to have the banker talking to him. None of the other members of "Kay's lot" (he couldn't believe he was already referring to them as that) besides Brit would dare look him in the face, let alone say anything. It was almost as if they believed him to be the bad guy there. Did they? No! This was a mild argument between himself and Kay over how things were being run here before this, and Atreidon was lying to them. He knew it. Now Kay was out there somewhere and Atreidon, Hamish, The Silhouette, Dominus... whoever! They were looking for him and Aaron would get there first.
"I want you to stay here Cossack. You are in charge. Send Key to the banquet. Make sure Void has his protection. Also, send Pi to help hurry the civilians out of here. We can still save them. Even if it means scattering half to the winds in our haste."
"I was asking the General, our second in command. I'm sure you recall at least some part of the line of order here." Cossack snubbed.
That hurt. It was the unspoken rule that he and Cossack were Kay's interchangeable right hand men. Secret was general simply because he was the best leader in the field. Aaron was the long-term planner. He was also the best peace-time leader, being a solid speaker and just a likable guy. Cossack was the economist who kept the place afloat and on occasion took command of the order.
Secret was examining one of the corpses behind Aaron and the detective. He jerked his head up like a dog to a whistle, but with attentiveness replaced with sleepy confusion. "Oh yes. What he said." Secret mumbled as if trying and failing to eat his beard before returning to his assessment.
Secret nodded absentmindedly.
"Well then, I now have a job. It's the exact same one as before but It's a job nonetheless." Cossack oozed. He tipped his purple hat and left with a venomous "Good day gentlemen."
"We'd best be heading if we want to get there before Kay leaves. He's been gone for an hour so we can only hope the Old Cow's slowed him down." Bokane interjected, adding a sense of urgency and strangely enough... Eagerness.
Aaron couldn't help but wonder why Bokane seemed to have such a personal stake in this. Sure Kay had nearly blown a hole in his skull just a few hours prior but it felt like there was something more. He dismissed the idea of this being pent up rage at Kay for sidelining him, viewing it as too similar to the first potential reason. Did he know something he didn't?
"Sure." Aaron said, masking his unease before rushing out of the doors with the mage.
As the pair saddled their steeds and raced off to chase the goose while it was still in view, the Detective scoffed at how easily fooled they had been. He wasn't going to risk blowing the chance for answers on Aaron's lack of subtlety. He was convinced there was something going on with Kay, but he refused to believe that this was happening the way described. He knew where to go next. Then in came Gracey.
"Going somewhere my unpredictable, highly emotive friend?"
Brit walked out into the hall with the skeleton towed along by his authoritative gravity. With a straightening of his pristine tie, and a rather pointless wiping of his face with his handkerchief, he answered him with a grim mumble. "Cover me. I'm heading to visit the lions for some tea and biscuits. I like mine with milk..."
"My Jeb!" Gracey gawped. "You're actually doing it."
"What?"
"USING HUMOUR! INTENTIONALLY!" He shouted triumphantly. "HALLELUJAH! IT MAY JUST BE THE WORST TWO-LINER OF ALL TIME BUT HE DID IT FOLKS! PRAISE THE DIVINES!"
And so the madman ranted and raved, drawing all attention towards him. While those he called comrades laughed or stared concernedly at his antics, the pristine man took his walk. He may as well have gone to the thrones of the Court of Whispers. But desperate times called for unconventional methods. And Brit was occasionally willing to break his routine for them.
Then, as he stood outside the lonely gates of the school, he stopped. He surveyed his surroundings as if it were the last time he'd see them. He then did something he hadn't done in ten years. He pulled from his right hand pocket a birch-wood pipe, the yellowing pale wood glinting sadly in the twilight. He then crumbled some grains of tobacco into his pipe, and reached for his top pocket. He then delicately lifted out the tiny tin lighter and set the granules ablaze. With a movement desperate as it was quick the pipe reached his lips and he inhale some of the smoke, held it a few minutes and then blew out a solitary, ever expanding ring. The detective then gained a new purpose, and marched through the greying ring, dispelling it like a phantom.
Aaron's perspective (Adapted from a Diary Account)
The Mourning Crow was a sad little establishment down on the bottom layer of Underworld, hugging the roof of the bridge as well as being squeezed uncomfortably in between a derelict "warehouse" (now serving as a nightclub) and a house-boat converted into a shoddy baker's. The third in the Old Cow bought in his chain. Business to it was poor, and as a result the bar itself received just as poor attention from its owner.
The roof was missing tiles. The walls were falling apart due to years of erosion on the stone and being soaked on the wood. Wallpaper was peeling. The furniture was useless even as firewood. The building itself was cramped and built on a raft which tipped slightly every time someone moved. Speaking of the raft, it was actually two inches below the surface of the river. As a direct result, water would seep through every hole in every surface when the tide was high, reducing the floor the a swollen minefield of slippery surfaces and rotting wood. Even the rats had begun to abandon the place and the bar only seemed to have one or two regular customers in the entire city.
The building had just the one floor, with a tiled roof with miscoloured and misshapen slates covering at best over half of the total surface area. The once whitened walls were now grey and peeling. The timbers that held it together at the edges were so bloated that the rest of the wall seemed to shy away from them, crumbling into the water as it approached. From the clumsily placed metal chimney at the edge of the roof puffed sporadic and unpredictable swarms of what might have been smoke or bees depending on the season. It was by all commercial meanings a failure, and it could be only assumed that it was kept for sentimental reasons, or because the Old couldn't get a good price for the place.
However, a lesser known fact was that the Mourning Crow was supposed to be like this. It was the centre of the Cow's "providence" to the city above. Here he would meet the unlicensed traders who kept Jeb with perfect hair and Dinner Bone and Grumm rolling in wine. Down in the wine cellar, carved into the wall of the bridge was the Old Cow's personal residence and the offices where he did his business. Few had seen this inner sanctum. It was a pretty well-kept secret. Kay only stumbled onto it's existence by chance, but had never seen it before today. Now two other unexpected guests were about to set foot on forbidden soil.
Bokane and myself ran up the decayed old platform, the Crow approaching rapidly on our left. The baker's was still afloat, just about. They were taking in a new load of flour. Just visible at the very end of the pier stood a small gathering of people. Through the staggering, hunch-over, wretched old workers we saw four men, bound at the feet and hands. Surrounding them were eight of Boatsink's men. It was a standard security job, driving a few men into the river for breaking the law. However, one of them was a man Bokane recognised as Stelf, the bartender from The Old Cow's Tavern. Little known fact was that this man was his accountant as well, but security knew this well enough. Why punish such an integral figure?
Bokane placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered from beneath his new black travelling cloak, "Stelf's being tossed in the river."
Eyes-widening, I turned to my friend and whisper-shouted "WHAT?"
"Well-"
"I know I heard you. Let's head inside and see what is going on.
"But shouldn't we help him?"
"We can do without Boatsink and every bouncer in Underworld gunning for us thank you very much."
"Fine." Grumbled the thaumaturge.
I didn't want to leave anyone to die, it was just impractical to get involved. The people who defy Boatsink... Well his name is pretty relevant.
Boatsink was one of the people who was in charge during the last iteration of Underworld about thirty years prior, and had fought a large turf war with the Inquisition (at the time just a group of religious fanatics instead of Dinner Bone's personal clique). It started with a couple of bar fights, which escalated into street-fights, which escalated into mortal komba- I mean a two-sided guerrilla war. It only got worse when Boatsink got locked up for two years on charges of disturbing the peace. However, the man couldn't be stopped. He organised the war from his cell and left with the intent of ending it.
One of his preferred methods of dealing with officers who came under was to lock them up until he had roughly ten people. He'd then load an old useless boat (or one captured from the Inquisition) to the brim with gunpowder with a ten minute fuse. That was the length of time it took for the boat to pass by the first Inquisition chapter house, Husavren (Divine for "House of Purity"). The goal was to simply prove a point; he was ing untouchable and they should step back before the river turned into a fireworks display.
Eventually the Inquisition did back off; of course after burning Underworld to the ground. Boatsink never got over it. He wanted to go after them but the other members of the Council of Merchants forbade him. Since then he'd been taking out his anger on pimps and slavers down in Underworld, and making sure any Inquisition boat that decided it wanted a prolonged stay in Underworld without a permit found themselves at the bottom of the river. He and the Cow had been on good terms since the Cow first arrived, with Boatsink aiding him in his rise to power. Then it hit me.
"Oh..." I turned to Bokane.
"Yeah." He confirmed.
"Boatsink's after, or has the Cow at this very moment isn't he?"
"Yeah."
"We should do something about this shouldn't we?" I asked, pointing to the Mourning Crow.
"Of course not!" Bokane sarcastically jabbed.
"Well then." I drew my blade and kicked open the door. "Let's go."
The room was as dingy as it had been the last few times they had visited. Except this time tables were overturned, and there were two dead bodies. One was collapsed over a small circular table, at the bottom of a paint-brush like layering of blood. The other was just a single hand pinned by a knife to the counter, as if it was fruitlessly trying to claw its way back up. They needn't even see the rest of it, just the forlorn stillness of the hand, and the pale whiteness of the skin to know he was long dead.
Then there came a heavily accented laughing from the stairs behind the counter. I looked to my comrade, who drew his sword, but kept his wand hidden up his sleeve. If we could we'd avoid wasting Thaumium on street punks. We'd try to talk this out.
So we hopped the counter as quietly as we could, avoiding the most rotten and loose looking floorboards. Then we came to the throat, connecting the head to its heart. At the bottom they could see the river reclaiming the stairs slowly but surely. Through the tunnel they heard jeers of rednecks, angry swearing and the pained grunts of the old slug himself, The Old Cow. We edged down the stairs, sticking to the shadows as much as we could. It wasn't that hard though, the light from downstairs was seemingly snuffed out.
The pair of us emerged into the bluish light coming from the Old Cow's foolish reinforced glass skylight, through which he could watch fish and boats swim past, pondering his business and what few questions he could be bothered with. It was made of glass strong enough to bear the weight of the water, but not much more. The water was of course nearly at their knees, and furniture throughout the room was either floating or was succumbing to its fate, just waiting for the river to swallow it. At the right hand side of the room there was a recently made crack in the bare concrete wall, purposefully made by the looks of it. Aaron reckoned that they had chiselled a hole and planted in some dynamite as a first attempt, trying to drown the Cow as he rested. Boatsink had a vendetta.
In the centre, just beneath the skylight were four figures. Two of them stood upright, clad in a mix of leather and chainmail. Both were youthful and slight, in fact they looked like they were new in town. Their armour was black as night, and plainly made for combat. Yet, unlike their brothers upstairs they weren't armed with lethal weapons. Both were tasked with holding small metal clubs, held in the palm of the hand and concealed and disposed of.
The next figure was the Old Cow, lying in the water. From the look of his limp and bloated form the pair of us couldn't tell whether he had succumbed to drowning or the beating the trio had given him, and one was continuing. That's right, despite the fact that the Old Cow was long dead, Boatsink was still clouting him around the head, swearing at him almost as much as he would at his therapist in prison.
"Traitorous *******!" A crack across the temple. "Swine!" One to the neck. "Think you can just start a brothel behind my back? After all I've done for you?"
He straightened up and stepped backwards, revealing his face to myself and Bokane, still apparently unaware of what was going on. His hair was snow white, standing on ending, and with the texture of dead reeds. His face was consumed by bloodshot eyes the colour of mud, skin etched with the scars of time, and a bushy white cloud of a rug repurposed to be a beard. He was heaving searing breaths of air through his bent nose. Slung around his neck was a bull's horn hollowed out into a trumpet.
The Cow hadn't gone down without a fight evidently. Boat had a miniscule but prominent tear in his skin just above his left eyebrow, which cried blood down the sheer drop of the bridge of his nose. There were also small greenish-blue bruises beginning to form on his neck and jaw.
"Well to hell with you! You dead little bollock!" He turned to us as if having had prior knowledge that we'd be here. "Can I help you?"
"Yes." Bokane piped up. "You can tell us what the meaning of all this is? Is it pre-planned or is everyone just going ape tonight for the hell of it?"
He wretched briefly in a manner that may once have been laughter, before his face receded into it's usual hatred of the world. "I was informed by a man who might just be your boss that this young fella," He lifted the old cow out of the water and patted his bruised cheek, before dumping the slug into the water with a great splash. "Was forming a new brothel. Naturally, considering my recent efforts to stamp out prostitution in the city." He lashed out clumsily at the corpse with his foot, throwing a sheet of water across the room. The water was now up to their thighs. "I was quite peeved. By the way, you are Gaians aren't you? Your boss said I could expect a few people along to check on my progress when he came to my office earlier."
I couldn't believe it. It was all true. Kay had betrayed us just for his little revenge scheme. No! He had killed off the Cow because he was sick of being ignored. This probably was an at least explainable reason. But then again, Kay'd never explained what he'd wanted from him. Oh Notch...
"Yes." I gulped. "We most certainly are."
"Then I thank ye." Slurred he, drunkenness showing.
We turned to leave and rush to the next most likely location, Dominus' mansion. He was out this evening for the Assembled Banquet, attempting to rally support for the final vote on his crusade against Void. However, as he set foot on the first step, his travelling cloak was caught on a piece of furniture, light from upstairs illuminating his Thaumaturge's attire.
Now, when it is said that Thaum's are no problem in Underworld, that does not apply to the Thaumaturges. The thing is, the Thaumaturge's are unfairly associated with their Haram-Ishin brothers from the Court of Whispers. The Haram-Ishin... Well, that's another story altogether but all you need to know is that they are psychotic.
Inevitably Boatsink recoiled and cried, "Haram-Ishin!" before sounding his trumpet with all his lungs could produce.
I would have gutted him where he stood, but Bokane heroically acted first. With a whip-like movement the wand shot into his hand. A further upward slash through a sofa into the skylight, felling one of the youngsters. With a crash like a dying fairy fabric fell upon swords of glass, and water gushed from the wound. The trio were washed away by the descending wave and we fled.
Waiting for us at the top of the stairs were two confused looking mercenaries, who evidently had just come in from disposing of Stelf and the others. At seeing two armed men come up the stairs besides their master they instinctively reached for their weapons. Before either they nor I could do anything, Bokane lashed out with his wand, catapulting the man on the right into the paper-thin walls, sending him crashing through onto the docks. There he rolled over the slimy old pier before crashing into the surface of the river and sinking like a stone.
The second saw his comrade and rushed onwards in a berserk charge. With a twist of his wand the flame of the nearest two candles burst into an inferno before rising up like great serpents. Then, with an equally snake-like movements Bokane told his pets to attack the guard, and so they did, whipping his arms and setting the sleeves ablaze. Screaming he dropped to the floor and rolled as much as he could, as we kicked down the door and ran out onto the platform. Waiting at the other end, and coming straight towards us were the other six, all with murder in mind. Again it was Bokane who acted.
He straightened his wand-arm and raised it out to the black waters with a formal and practiced lightness. Then, he was suddenly fighting to keep his arm up, heaving it up to the sky with supreme effort. With the arm rose a great wall of crystal clear water, some nine foot tall, rising like a great phoenix above any man on the pier. It continued to ascend slowly, drawing awe-struck spectators from the bakery workers, and the mercenaries. They stopped, terrified, gazing at the wall, now a solid twelve feet. I looked to my friend, who looked like he were about to collapse from the effort.
But then, with a crash like thunder, the water consumed the men, sweeping all into the murky depths. All stood in awe of the thaumaturge, myself included. He collapsed, panting like a wolf straight back from the hunt; weary and yet satisfied.
"You okay?" I asked him, perching a vigilant hand upon his shoulder.
"Yeah," He heaved, opening the satchel at his side. "Damn! used four bars of Thaumium there. Only got nine left. Going to have to make some more after this venture is over." He grinned weakly at me.
The thing about Thaumaturge's is that they "break the cycle of normal magic" as Grumm so helpfully put it. The Divines and their administrators themselves, whilst capable of certain miraculous actions, are unable to channel actual "magic". So-called Divine magics are only capable of basic manipulation of the elements. None since "Notch" have possessed the power to do much more without the use of a Well; and this varies from version to version. Any great miraculous action without the use of one was likely the work of Dinner Bone's propaganda crew.
The old magics as they are known, are the hardest to master, and are only controllable by a select few. Normally it is a random gift only held by certain individuals of certain bloodlines, and even then there's no guarantee of the gift travelling from generation to generation. Very few possess this gift, Astro being one of the few left. Supposedly there are quite a few up in the Madrealms, deep within the tempest. However, there was no grand order of those who master these arts, and to be honest it was a bad idea to put two of them in a room together. There only seem to be two main types, those with a God Complex, and those who have an ego problem. Most don't live long enough to master these character flaws, and Astro is the only one I know of.
It's mostly just limited by personal willpower, with the user "burning out" if they go too far. The strongest of this brand of wizard was rumoured to be Ishinge, and that those who currently possess it in some way descend from, or are chosen by the Old God. However, the notion is preposterous, as Notch or Steve slew Ishinge before the rebirth of man - It depends on which version you subscribe to.
Then there's the Thaumaturge's. They possess the powers of the moderators with perhaps a bit more variation. However, they are in general a fair bit weaker, and their power is drawn from Thaumium - a mysterious little metal that somehow does something to make it act like fuel for a magical fire. I don't understand how it works, or how it's made but it's bloody useful, but equally expensive. The True Court, despite banning its use in general, actually use variations of it in many of their devices. It's rumoured that not only are their artillery powered by this mystery variation, but their jail system is powered by some sort of Thaumium reactor. Whatever it is, it's still miles ahead of anything anyone else has produced.
I allowed Bokane a few moments respite until the people's stares turning to scowls and shrieks of "FLUX! COME QUICK!" at this I violently shook him out of his exhausted stupor and he rose quickly. Just as the bottles and the rotten pieces of fruit began to come our way we made our rush for freedom.
Feet pounding on the wooden boardwalks, crowds separating like wild grass as they saw the purple robes of my comrade, we arrived back in the Lower Arcvale. The streets up here were not like those of Underworld. The people here were not sheltered by Boatsink's bravado, or the usefulness of their home to the war effort. They were all gone, hiding wherever they could. In their houses. In the theatres. Under wagons. Just doing anything to survive the night. There were still corpses littering the streets from the earlier attacks, and the shrill cracks of explosions still echoed across the night. The only movements were of patrols of soldiers of the True Court, searching the area for any sign of their foes, or those of the nervous shuffle of local holding a crude and poorly maintained weapon. Every here and there a beggar would straddle their way through the streets, either picking what they could from the dead, or banging on every door they could in a desperate hunt for hospitality.
The sky had turned to night. A velvety black wall miles above us, embellished with a façade of stars and a disinterested crescent moon. Great trails of smoke soared into the sky, attempting to make them safe from the chaos below. Every here and there some bright flash of light would signal to the world that there the fighting was, or to the True Court that there stood their enemy. Lit by the hell-fires of the damned paradise below were the mighty airships that once made the sky so safe, now raining down chaos upon their cherished home.
The mocking smell of sulphur carried from the winds, burning their eyes and nostrils. The ash and smoke lazily drifted around them, unsure and uncaring of where they went. Fire would crackle in the back of the ear, an ever-present whisper of malice. Cries from all around signified different things. Here, the cries of a father mourning. There a damned soul moaning away their final breaths. A child lost, calling the names of their missing parents, not knowing they were already claimed by the night. The groaning of one of the Undead or the hissing of a Strange One, slipped in beneath the net of light we cling to so strictly. The rallying cries of the rebels, shrieking of inevitable immortality, and their rightful claim to Mojhang. The thunderous rumble of airships above.
It was all so much to take in. I suppose it wasn't the worst war I'd seen in terms of body-count or even scale of fighting. But my lord, with betrayal after betrayal hitting me, the deaths of my friends and the seeds of distrust splitting The Kingdom of Gaia, it was all the worse. I couldn't speak. Until Bokane brought me back.
"What do we do now?" Bokane asked like a lost puppy.
The strength of the mage was gone like that. No more was the man who just defeated ten men alone. Now there was just the lonely child he'd met on the long road to the Vanilla Craft. Rage welled up within me. No more would we falter. This ended here.
"We go and we stop this nonsense. I'm going to kill Hamish, Dominus, Atreidon, Falcon, even Kay provided it ends this." Said I in more of a whisper than an audible vow.
And so we turned and ran to face our foes at their heart.
Taken from: Confessions of The Criminal Elite, published by Grumm
Subject: Nek Minnet
Occupation: Mercenary/Contract killer
Crime: Flux uprising of October 1874 P.G.T., Sabotage and infiltration of the citadel
Date of interview: 17th July 1892 P.G.T.
So we entered the building via the front entrance and no one batted an eye. Huskers and the corpsey bloke had taken the armour of two guards and got me a spare set. Didn't like to have my face that exposed, but at the very least I had the shell of someone else. We parted ways at the grand foyer. I went up to the very top, they went down to the Dungeons.
So about twenty minutes later, I stood on top of the roof, holding a satchel full of explosives. It wasn't particularly subtly disguised. If anything, seeing a soldier holding a bag of explosives is a lot more reassuring to most people in a war situation. It didn't do any harm that the main cannons (which conveniently needed more ammunition) were on the same route as the rooftop.
My target was the airship circling the Citadel. Cut that thing down and the entire prison system would go down. Okay, maximum was still run by the creepy faceless things, but most of them would go berserk or become virtually comatose. This was before you lot installed a failsafe or two of course. I set the timer on the main charge. You see, the others were chain reaction based, so you only had to set the one up. I do that, wait for the ship to come around and toss it to one of the dimwits on-board, claiming its just letters. They have to stay up there for two month shifts you see. The idea was to only station the most loyal up there with as little corruption. Sadly just makes them lonely.
It rang true. I turn away, five minutes later the bag goes off with an impressive bang. The airship splits in two (they've brought the bag down to the galley at this point) and goes down. A few minutes later everyone's ting themselves and I go to look for another target I had. But that's another story.
Kay's Perspective
"Why?" Asked the Archangel.
"I don't know what you mean." I responded dully, attempting to brush off another round of questions.
Atreidon slapped me with a cringe-worthy popping noise. "Don't give me this. I know you're the one responsible for this madness!"
"And I know for a fact that you're some mad old widower who has taken his hobby way too serious-" I couldn't finish before he punched me in the stomach.
As I retched and wheezed for breath, being held up only by my bonds he spoke once more. "I didn't come here to hurt anyone Kay, I just want answers." He was attempting to be reasonable now, two-faced eel.
"Don't give me this pathetic attempt to be reasonable. You turn my friends against me through your lies, murder those you don't, betray our confidence and charity, and now you steal me from my chambers. And now you expect me to play the cryptic question game? How about you answer my questions. Why am I here?"
"More importantly, why the hell am I here?" Fabio shrieked from the chair beside me, black hair in a tangled mess.
"Kay, you're here to explain why you orchestrated todays events. Fabio, you amuse me." Atreidon explained.
"So, I'm comic relief?"
"Basically."
"Oh not again!" Fabio said in a voice that sounded like he were in a cheesy 80s sitcom.
"So, you want me to give you a fake confession?" Scoffed I.
This earned me another slap. "Don't play games with me!" Atreidon leant in and shook me. "I have enough evidence against you to put your grandfather in jail. I just want to understand what could lead a man to betray his family."
I was about to start the cycle again when my saviour charged in, or rather, ambled in purposefully and urgently but without a great deal of speed or enthusiasm. His usual emotionless face seemed even more unreadable than ever. His pistol was in hand, but he seemed to be contemplating very blatantly whether or not he should use it. It lay in the palm of his right hand, finger not even on the trigger. His hair was wilted and gravity seemed to weigh on his stout form far more than usual. In his left hand a pipe sat. That was strange indeed, the man claimed to not have smoked since I sent him off into the wastes. But nonetheless, my knight in cream suit was there.
Then much to my annoyance, he took a deep breath, shook his head like a rustling branch and planted the rotator in his pocket. With that he approached a suspicious looking Atreidon. A few steps away, the detective stopped, grinned an admiring grin and stuck out a great meaty limb for the archangel to grip with camaraderie. I made another space on the list of traitors I needed to punish. Right up there with Atreidon and... Aaron.
Aaron... The thought of that treacherous swine brought bile to my throat. When I'm at my lowest he strikes at me with innocent little Abby. The worst part was, I wasn't sure whether he thought I was going mad (which I was certain that the opposite of which was true) or whether he was a power-hungry ape who decided that now was the time to confront the alpha male, at his weakest.
"It's a pleasure to finally speak to you detective. I had a feeling you'd find your way here." Atreidon praised, sitting down on Hamish's desk, brushing aside the moon-grey blossom. At his side was Amicus, handing in it's scabbard quite comfortably. I suppose that reflected how badly everything was going, that even my sword was betraying me. All the time he had his spear held next to him.
"Pleasure Mr A." Brit muffled into his all-consuming moustache. "I had a feeling you would want someone to witness any confessions. I assume I haven't missed much important?
"Of course not, stubborn as a goat. May I offer you a drink?" I seethed at the way they spoke of me as if I wasn't there.
Atreidon reached down behind the counter and pulled out a dusty old bottle of vodka as well as two glasses.
"No thank you, I wouldn't want to intrude on another man's stash of vodka without permission. Assuming it's 'Amish's that is." Came the blunt courtesy of Brit.
"Nonsense! He offered it to us freely. He'll be along soon enough to settle all this!" Atreidon insisted triumphantly.
"Offered it freely you say." The archangel nodded his confirmation. "In that case get that bottle well away from me, and yourself, and anyone you have even the slightest liking for."
Atreidon stared at the paper-wrapped bottle concernedly and put it down on the table beside him. I could swear I heard some sort of noise in the background, a whispering little hum, almost like voices. It held for a split-second, then it was gone into the mists obscurity.
"Now Mr Atreidon, down to business." My former ally asserted. "What's going on here?"
And so Atreidon
"First, what part does Officer Hamish have to do with all this?"
"He's agreed to confess provided he gets to explain things to Kay, and finally "cut loose that dead weight on my back once and for all". Reckons that his chances in the camps in the Farlands are better than his chances with Kay hunting him every few years. Might even escape in a few years."
"I suppose I should feel bad that I'm already praying he get's murdered in a pretty horrible manner before then. Assuming I considered this newfound charity of course." The detective glared. The chances of this being my savior were looking up.
"He's not that bad a man once you've got to know him." Atreidon defended, seeming somehow hurt.
I scoffed. "Hah! That's what all of us thought at first. Energetic, intelligent, ruthless. He might seem a little eccentric at first but, otherwise a pretty nice guy. Provided he needs you for something. He'll be your best friend so long as his plans require it, and he always has a plan." I was shocked at the ragged and jeering nature of what I said. "I should know. I've been lucky enough to escape when he first tried to drop me. Barely left with anything. But I persevered and he tried to kill me again, and I showed him mercy... Gave him to the justice system for judgement. Now I'm paying the price."
He hesitated a moment, pausing to think about what I'd said. His foundations seemed to have been rattled a little. Less sure of what he was in for. I could have sworn I heard those voices again, but it was muffled. Then the traitor spoke.
"I know what I'm in for. No strong friendship or even trust exists between me and Hamish, and I intend to kill him at the first opportunity." He could try to stifle his sudden doubt all he like; the way his voice quivered was undisputable.
"Why haven't we been stormed yet? The guards said I was expected." Brit's brow was entrenched in his forehead, determined not to give ground.
"Hamish's doing. Said we'd have the room to ourselves."
Brit nodded in understanding, and stood up, obviously perturbed by something. Through the silence I could swear I heard those voices again. Except this time accompanied by... a jazz orchestra? Something was off. I honestly would have mentioned it if I wasn't hoping it would somehow work against Atreidon if he didn't know. Besides, Fabio decided to interject.
"But that means there's even less reason for me to be here! I just assumed I was a human shield or something, but now I really am just pointless comic relief!" Fabio shouted, seemingly overacting to anyone meeting him for the first time. "Let me go! -Oh hi Gaians!"
At this point the traitors rushed to my rescue. There was first the spoiled Thaumaturge. The ungrateful mouse wrapped up in a drooping purple trench coat of harshest tyrian. The way he leaned forward as he moved made the loose coat look like a slave struggling to cope under the weight of itself. Covering his snake-like head was a hood of faded royal purple; the coward's crown. From beneath this circlet of shadow peeked a dirty rank of hair. Behind this I could see two hollow black sockets. In his hand was a slender and ever-so-subtly crooked wand, reflecting his own personality. Then, the wand whipped at Atreidon, and the archangel was bowled over by an unseen blade. And with that the traitor was slain, leaving just young Bokane, who I had counted upon so strongly.
Then there was the true deceiver, my wolf-in-dwarven-disguise. His infected-looking cyan eggshell of a coating creaked with every movement, having to be hefted in a way that revealed him to be what he was, a lumbering beast. His short fur of black hair flogged his olive hide, driving him onwards like a mount. In both hands was rooted the great
curved blade, glistening white-hot even in the weak candle-light. Then, as I braced for the great blade to cleave me in two, it freed me from my bonds. And no more was the wolf, the only one who stood there was light-hearted Aaron, who never failed to make me laugh.
I couldn't help but feel uplifted at their sight. I immediately rose and hugged Aaron, uttering my feeble apologies for my distrust, trying to bridge the rift with -wood. Should I really have been surprised when it gave way and I found myself staring down the long road of a blade. There is hung, just between my eyes, a mere inch away. The dwarf growled and began to stomp forward, as I backpedalled. Now I was certain I was hearing voices, and a jazz orchestra, out of their normal context and I was fairly certain I heard my name mentioned. Was I going mad?
"Give me one good reason not to gut you." Aaron rumbled as Bokane brought Atreidon down with an intangible blow to the head, leaving him a groaning moan on the floor.
I was about to start uttering some incoherent ramblings likely involving a set of strange animal noises and a cheap imitation of an explosion (I've never been good at explanations) but thankfully Brit intervened because whatever script he was following deemed this the moment to act, instead of stopping this stand-off five minutes ago at the door.
"Well, one reason is all we need. Hamish set up this little meeting." The detective intervened. Looks like my knight in cream suit was real.
"Okay," Aaron didn't seem to convinced. "A better reason as Hamish's life was in danger."
"The custom made jazz album playing on loop in the background playing purposefully badly sung songs making fun of us."
"I was just about to mention that. I just wasn't sure it was worth bring up." Fabio interjected in an effort to be interesting.
"Stay out of this." Aaron put down. "How come I don't hear it?"
"Coming from the hidden office. I can't make out anything coherent, apart from a few choice slurs and a few key names. I'm fairly certain it'll explain what's going on if what I've gathered about Hamish is true. May be wrong. Remember, I've only spoken to the man once. It could just be a private album he left on by accident but, I say we get in there with absolute urgency."
And so the three of us ran for the concealed door and began to rather dim-wittedly start hitting it with our fists. I really don't know what we expecting it to do after five seconds. Were we expecting it to give up? We even had weapons. Thankfully, Bokane decided to actually do something.
"Step aside." He sighed.
Then, without warning, the armchair Fabio was sitting in hurled itself into the oak surface, shattering the polished wooden surface and tearing away chunks of the door-frame to leave a cartoonishly exaggerated chair-and-Fabio-shaped hole in the door, through which we eagerly slipped.
And there we were met with a cheap-ass musical number thrown in by the writer just because he was bored and evidently decided to copy the Disney formula. It was set to the tune of Oasis' "She's electric" and played by the ******* himself and a swing jazz band.
Kay is good as dead!
He’s in a family that wants to get his head!
He’s done just as I expected!
And he needs more time!
He’s got a new mage,
And they haven’t gotten on in a true age.
He wants to see Kay locked up in a cage,
And Kay needs more time!
And I want him to know
It was a tough decision
And he’s out of time!
And I need him to know
That he got too boring
And he’s out of time!
Cause I was just too bored to keep
Going on and on to see
Just what I thought you would do
Now that Kay is dead! I might just pull through!
Atreidon’s a bit mad
His story really is quite sad
He thinks that the Gaians have gone bad
But Kay needs more time!
Kay had a good friend,
Who hates him more than old Bokane did
He stabbed his boss in the back and left him for dead!
Meet Complex 3
And I want him to know
It was a tough decision
And he’s out of time!
And I need him to know
That he got too boring
And he’s out of time!
I was just too bored to keep
Going on and on to see
Just what I thought you would do
Now that Kay is dead! I might just pull through!
I might just pull through!
I might just pull through!
I might just pull through!
And then, as that ear-rape ended I was struck with the horrible truth. I had been completely and utterly duped at every turn. Even when we had Hamish cornered with those witnesses, it was just a part of his little game. I collapsed into a little chair in the corner, and let my hands take my face. I didn't cry, I just sat there, hoping beyond hope that the darkness of my palms would just consume me then and there. Hell, didn't even need to die. I could just sit there forever, and if death came, death came. If not if not. I didn't have to give a anymore. He couldn't touch me here.
But then he came to rip me out of my brief, silent solace. He always does. He pulled me from the black waters and left me on the deck of the boat, gasping for breath and writhing on the floor. In his smug, yet equally cold voice a tinny monologue came from the record player on his desk, with the low hum of the instrumental player in the background. I jerked my head upwards.
"Hello Kay, special message from the boys of the Family-Realm-Kreatian-Hamish combo." His voice had a light-heartedness that decayed as it went on. This wasn't the Hamish I'd come to know. He was somehow even less restrained. "I know you're probably absolutely riveted to figure out that I've been ing with you. Well guess what, it just gets better. You must be asking yourself how? We've tarnished your name with your friends, only to reveal all AFTER you've made yourself look like a psychopath! We've helped to expose a new enemy to the True Court whilst simultaneously setting it up to fail! We've gotten rid of those dead-weights, the half-breed and the sneak. But alas, this is just leading up to my piece day resistance! I have a special gift for you up in the Library. You know which one I'm talking about. I'll be waiting for you..."
Then the record just went into static before the needle dug into the record, sending up sparks before eventually tearing the vinyl disk in two. And we sat there in seething silence.
"Wow." Fabio broke out. "What an ."
I just sat and glared at the smoking remains of the record, pondering whether I should take the challenge. He was talking about the Library of the True Court undoubtedly. The place where Notch, Grumm, Dinner Bone and now Jeb and Herobrine kept the secrets of man locked away. Every lie we'd been told about our past, every truth locked away, all of these came from the library. From there Steve had been written out, and Notch and the Divines had simply existed and created man on a whim. From there they kept the long forgotten secrets of the True Court's advanced weaponry hidden. From there were controlled the true secrets of the Divines' powers, the locations of every known Well, active, dormant, or in any other condition.
The thing is, it was such an obvious trap it wasn't trying to hide itself. But at the same time I couldn't afford to leave Hamish up there surrounded by every secret the House Persson and its allies had ever kept. I honestly wasn't certain if he intended to take anything, or who he meant to give it to afterwards. The Court of Whispers? This Silhouette? Dominus and Zerg? It was a terrifying prospect. But most troubling of all, he had just openly confessed to murdering Mini and Linx... I couldn't let that stand.
Aaron was the one to break me from my meditation. I looked up at the shadowy figure of the tall, tombstone-like man, somehow a shadow against the dim, dancing flames of the candelabra above. I was sure what to expect from him. Sadness? Anger? Jeering triumph? But no, none of these logical emotions. Instead, he cracked a smile in his stone face, and held Amicus out before me. I took it and grinned my gratitude, patting him on the arm, before embracing him. I did it with the warmly grim conclusion that tonight would be my last, but at least I'd bring Hamish down with me.
"So, shall we take the bait?" Atreidon asked rubbing the back of his head, his sober manner returning.
"Aren't you supposed to be trying to kill us?" Bokane inquired.
"Well obviously I heard the record or you'd already all be dead."
"I wouldn't be so sure, I just licked you pretty well." The thaumaturge jested.
"Don't get used to it."
I pulled myself together, and with a great solemnity said, "I supposed we'd best go and kill this ******* and whatever else he has up his sleeve. Perhaps even get Dom on the way." I chuckled the last part with bitterness, blankly staring into the wall the whole time. Shall we boys?"
There was a grave mumbling of consent, even reciprocated by Fabio. Then we turned and left, leaving the strange little man still firmly fastened to the chair.
"Guys?" He shrieked. "GUYS? OH COMEON! I COULD REALLY BE OF USE! YOU GUYS ARE WORSE THAN OVEY!"
TO BE CONTINUED IN: The Family in the Shadows Part 2
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Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Fall and A Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale
Hello fellow fans of minecraft literature! I'm kmandy... Bugger. Where did I put that heavily thought out speech? Oh dear. Well I guess I'll have to do without. So I'm a novice writer. I like minecraft. So I decided to do the logical thing and write something about minecraft that completely twisted what Minecraft into a steampunk, fantasy, late 18th century world so that I could write an interesting story. Admittedly it takes a wee while to heat up, the parts are ridiculously long, character development is mixed (we can't all be 1Dani) and a lot of the humour is based on inside jokes and references. However, I promise that the plot is sufficiently convoluted, the random humour is passable and my descriptions are pretty damn good! Please tell me what you think of it below. What could I be doing better on? Who do you want to see more of? What do you think is going on?
Other Works in the same Universe
Believe it or not this world actually has a pretty detailed lore that I'm working on, and has been adapted from a number of other works. There are also a work that was adapted from it. Here they are in chronological order of when they happened in the world's history:
Status: On hiatus
Link: http://www.minecraftforum.net/forums/show-your-creation/fan-art/literature/1581530-before
The Trials and Events of King Qustom by Void420: In the days long before the establishments of the Great Crafts, before the Golden Revolution. Tn the brief time after the fall of the Obsidian Empire of the Endlings yet before the cloak of the True Court's influence was cast completely across the Old Continent, there were human kings who ruled it. One such king was Qustom, lord of House Vanilla. Watch as he struggles to maintain his kingdom, and turn it into a power that will stand the test of time.
Status: Completed (liable to revival)
Link: http://vanillacraft.net/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=10
The Tale Of Gaia Before Gaia by Astro Joe:In many ways a direct prequel to FAAR, following the characters of Kay, Aaron, Astro and the others who travelled with them in the years leading up to their arrival at the Vanilla Craft. Witness the plight of Astro, a young but well-trained wizard who, for economic reasons, travels across the sea to the safety of Zine Craft. But not all is what it seems. To the South the armies of Herobrine are readying to awake their master, and to the East the Endlings manoeuvre their soldiers in the shadows. Soon, loyalties are tested, and those the choices that are made by such previously insignificant individuals could shape the face of the Overworld for centuries to come.
Status: In process of writing. Will be released when completed.
Link: http://vanillacraft.net/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=1324
The Sorrows of the Seven Kingdoms by Apostle Trivius: The direct inspiration for FAAR, set 4 or 5 years beforehand. Meet Dominus, Emperor of the Realm of Seven Kingdoms. For the last 7 years his people have lived in peace with the Brotherhood. However, this peace comes at a price. They pay protection money to the Brotherhood to guard them from raiders such as themselves. But now, as raiders become scarcer and scarcer, treaties begin to be ignored, and payments take longer and longer to provide. Both sides are at their breaking point. It's now just a question of who makes the first move.
Status: Finished
Link: http://r7ksorrow.blogspot.co.uk/?view=magazine
Character Applications:
We're still accepting character apps! here's the layout for one:
Name:
Age:
Species [Existing species are: Human; Divine; Thaum; Half-breed; Endling; Pigman (undead or alive); Undead]:
Gender:
Allegiance [Who they work for from what you've read in the story]:
Appearance/equipment:
Background/how they fit into the story:
Prologues and Appendices:
REBIRTH (Creation myth):
He pulled out the last fabled gem, and considered it a moment. Should he really waste his life on the trivialities of a people long dead? Should he not seek to rebuild what they lost? To find those few who still breathed? Perhaps. But Steve knew not. And he cared not. And with that he opened Infinity's jaws and gave himself to them.
He awoke on a plinth of the black stone, with two of Ishinge's followers stood before him, the Endlings. They with their twisted black skin, their blade-like arms and legs, and their sword-like teeth. They with their gaping maws, with the shadow which exuded from their skin. They, the tainted ones.
They watched him, confused. They had destroyed these people in their war. The Endless War. Man had sought the power of gods. The power of Ishinge. They had been anointed by it, and it consumed them. So here man's last child stood before them. And they knew not what to do. It scared them.
Steve rose and demanded to see Ishinge, to settle affairs with him once and for all. One guard went back to the great Temple of Ishinge, on the floating isle of Terra. He knelt before the great dragon - he who sat atop the obsidian throne, and told him of the traveller. Ishinge pondered how to deal with this. He decided that the best way to slow this man down was to test him. Was he man or god? And so he twisted the Endling, making it stronger, more angry. More animalistic.
Steve grew impatient, and approached the Temple to the protests of the guard. He was about to set foot on the great stairs when the beast hurled itself down the stairs and landed before him on all fours.
"Who are you to believe you have the right to challenge a deity? Are you man? Or are you a god?" It asked in its rasping voice, panting like a great hound.
"No. I am your downfall. I am man." With that Steve beheaded it, and carried it's warped visage in his hand, and his sword in the other.
Then Ishinge sent the mother and father of the fallen guardsman.
"How did you end our son so quickly? Truly you must be a god to be so skilled in battle?" They asked of him.
Steve handed them the head back, and it was restored to it's youth. Before they could believe their eyes the body grew back into it's former shape.
"No. I am the bringer of justice. I am man." Steve answered.
Lastly, as Steve was about to throw open the great doors of the Temple, the guardsman's son hurled his spear at him. Steve grasped the spear and snapped it. Then, as the son charged with his sword, Steve felled him with a single blow.
"Why do I still live? Are gods not vengeful?" He asked, terror in his eyes.
"I am no god. I am man." Steve told him with finality. And Steve looked at the spear and it was healed. Steve gave him his life.
Thus, the first and last human entered the Temple of Ishinge. There sat the old god, atop his throne of obsidian, the source of his power. At the sight of Steve, Ishinge dropped from his plinth and stood before him, tossing his cloak of many furs aside.
"I give you one chance to leave mortal." Ishinge told him.
"I am no mortal. I am man." And Steve drew his sword once more and reshuffled his feet into a fighting stance. He tossed aside his brown cloak and glared at the god.
"So be it." Growled the lord of that realm.
With this statement Ishinge began to grow. His nails turned to claws. His pale skin turned black and grew scales. The hair atop his head receded into the skull. His eyes elongated into great purple slits. From his back sprouted great wings. He stood upon his hind legs and before Steve stood the great dragon.
From his mouth poured purple flame, which Steve just managed to avoid behind a pillar. He pulled from his back an arrow of steel. The string was stretched as far as it could go, and then flew at the dragon's snout. It struck the dragon on the left nostril and burst into flames, coating the dragon's head in fiery liquid. With Ishinge writhing like an eel out of water, Steve pulled the pickaxe from his back, and shattered the obsidian throne into many great shards. The old god shrieked and saw through the flames, he was vulnerable now.
The human drew his bow once more, aiming for his foe's neck, but with a whip of the tail the mighty bow lay in two pieces on the floor. With a breath of flame Steve was hiding behind the shards of the throne. Then in came the guardsman's son, who threw a rock at the dragon. Enraged, Ishinge bathed him in flame, but not before he could throw the Last Man's his spear. Before he could compute what had happened, Ishinge had a spear in his heart.
As Steve approached his fallen enemy, the dying god asked him, "What are you? If not a god, yet not mortal?"
So Steve answered him, "I have told you all you need to know."
And with the Steve stripped him of his power, and left the ashes of the god lying on the ground as Ishinge's Realm began to crumble.
Great gashes appeared in the skies of that world, leading to planes unknown. As the land began to break into thousands of small islands, the lucky ones fell into these rifts, escaping the creation of the empty world, The End.
Steve awoke once more in his world, daylight greeting him with zeal. He rose and looked around. He lay in a great plane, as the skies darkened and the Endlings re-entered the world. Except this time they were not here to make war. They were here to hide. He dismissed their arrival, and left the great pig-lords in their eternal apathy to deal with this crisis of their own making.
The Last Man knew what he must do. For years he journeyed, by land and by sea. Walking the whole way. With the power of the fallen god not even the boldest creatures of the night dared to stand against him. He was alone, and he was sad.
At last he reached his destination, the ends of the world. He stood on a small rowboat, beneath the floating isle of dust, staring into beyond the Veil of Sanity and into The Tempest. His right hand was raised before him, and with a flick of his sword the hand fell into the great fog of the Veil.
He pushed the boat in too, and swam back to shore, his each drop of blood creating fish as he went along. As he walked along the scorched earth of the Isle of Norwich, his blood caused grass the grow and the flowers to spring up. He raised his left hand, and from the ground sprang a throne of spruce. He sat in it, and willed the Earth to make for him a great tower of wood, and it obeyed.
When at last he finished rising, he raised the bloody stump, and sky struck the top of the tree, lighting it up, yet never consuming the leaves, creating an eternal lighthouse. And so the First Divine watched as his people poured forth into the world on boats, naked and confused, and he took them in.
The World as We Know it - 1874 P.G.R. (Post Golden Revolution)
Seeing how close the Endlings had come to victory through Animperr's intervention, the Court of Whispers has grown bold. They see a chance to conquer the lands of the Divines and man. A chance for the reunification of the Old Continent, as it had been unified by the Obsidian Empire 7000 years before. However, they were not yet ready. The second the Onslaught ended they offered their protection to the Eastern Thaums. They then inserted a Father for the Obsidian Families in the form of Ceramthrop. They have sent out envoys to all their peoples; The Eastern Thaums; The Endlings; The Blazes; The Undead (skeletons to the ill-educated, not to be confused with the brainless zombies) and The Withered Ones. It is also rumoured that they are led by "ever-conniving brown mushrooms" and their King, Jeff, as ranted about by conspiracy theorists such as the ever-reliable "Professor" Proasheck of the Yogscast Theatre Company.
Meanwhile the Divines found themselves at a loss. The Thaums had to be punished, but they also couldn't afford war with the Court of Whispers. At the same time old technologies were coming out from the Waste and the Continent of Fugitar. Soon the people of the Crafts would have weapons to rival And so, narrow and crooked Dinner Bone came up with two of his winding schemes, each as snake-like as himself.
For the problem of the Thaums, "necessary sacrifices" were made. All Thaums were stripped of citizenship, and the regulations on obtaining it once more was tightened greatly. As promised by Herobrine during the Onslaught, the Southern Thaumlands received their autonomy. However, Dinner Bone was the one who oversaw it. First, he stripped bare their military. Then, he sent in six fleets of airships to burn every scrap of the rural Thaumlands. After that, he granted them their freedom, extraditing any Thaum without citizenship to the new nation whether they liked it or not.
For the problem of the rapid advancement, he spread superstition and rumour across the Inner Crafts. He fabricated miracles, paid off merchants to not bring in weapons, and turned away or arrested any who refused to cooperate. The mechanical weapons of the True Court, where made out to be mystical paperweights that man could never achieve without selling their souls. Grumm and he continued Notch's process of writing Steve out of history, and upped the process of placing the Divines as true creators of the worlds. Theses were spun from hollow words to define the Divines and humans of Mojang were genetically superior to the other peoples of the Overworld. Technological development was stunted. People became divided strictly into three camps by circumstance. Obscene patriots, sheep and cynics.
Meanwhile, across the water in the Vanilla Craft, one of the oldest and most well-travelled Crafts, it's Administrator, Void, opens it's borders to receive refugees and Great Houses from across the True Court's domain. Among them, the infamous warrior cult, The Brotherhood of The Try Hard Pants, The Republic of Irland, The Kingdom of Gaia and the Arcation clan. Also with them came Kay Mandy, otherwise known as Herobrine's Lapdog, a (now retired) leading figure in the Blind Watcher's army and his closest circle of friends.
Then 11 years passed, over which the two nations of the Craft (Red and Blue) splintered into warring factions, and Void was powerless to stop them. Kay was caught up in a personal war against the THP Brotherhood for the duration of these ten years, along with his friend, the Wizard Astro Joe. However, all of Kay's original party gradually worked their way into joining the aging King Peter of Gaia. For the next three years they worked together, continuing their private war against the Brotherhood and aiding in any other wars against them. Then, word reached Gaia of the Brotherhood's endgame.
The Brotherhood had journeyed into the depths of the Nether, and were returning with an army of Pigmen warriors. Their plan was to enter the Overworld through the Nether Highway, and from there destroy the other peoples of the Craft and pay fealty only to Void. Peter and the Gaian council organised a defensive campaign in the Nether, seizing control of the central hub, and doing all they could to hold them off. The Gaians were not alone, for they united the peoples of the once great Blue Nation under their banner. During the battle Kay Mandy duelled his nemesis, Brother Tauto Chrone, leader of the Brotherhood, and slew him, before collapsing the Nether Highway on top of the armies of the Brotherhood and his own.
While the Gaians and their allies arguably took greater casualties, the Brotherhood's army been reduced to less than a tenth of its prior size, and so victory could be claimed by both sides. Now, Kay Mandy is king of Gaia's domain, but not all are satisfied by this situation.
Other Guff I should Probably mention before I
2. If you aren't a fan of dark stuff in the form of insanity, mild aspects of torture, more blood than half of creepypasta.com, a nightmare scene I enjoyed writing way too much and people with Scottish accents (chilling I know), then run! RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN!
3. This story isn't up it's own ass entirely. It still has a sense of humour and don't be surprised by some of the big lipped alligator moments that will emerge.
4. There are a number of other people who write in the same universe as you may see above. I'll set up a number of links later. But first I'd just like to thank Apostle Trivius / Synthenos for his marvellous work on Sorrows of the Seven kingdoms two years ago. It inspired me to write and opened me up to the possibilities of the MC world in literature. Also would like to thank Astro Joe for his work on the prologue series, Sangiin for allowing me to use the name Ishinge and continue on where his story will eventually leave off, and Ray for creating an abstract masterpiece.
A Fall and A Rise: The Tale of Vanilla Craft
Chapter 1: The Chapter 1: The
By order of the King
He had been found as a baby in a cradle floating down the river where he had been picked up by the absent-minded wizard shepherd Gancamono of Dartoff. Gancamono, who had taken part in every major turning point in the world’s history, who was great friends with every other nobleman, had a pin-point accurate portrait of himself in every major city and made no effort to disguise himself ever! Gancamono, who the general populace still somehow didn’t realise was a real person despite all of the above pieces of evidence!
At this point Darien stood up and stared longingly towards the great egg yolk of a sun, dripping sunlight onto the great flowery fields of that GREAT and bountiful land as the bunnies hopped by. Did I mention how GREAT this place was?
He walked up to the tree of ages old, pulled the sword that had belonged to his father from the hollow. He used it so little, and had no proper training in how to use it. In fact, he had only used it once or twice before, this would be the first time in three years that he used it. His naming ceremony was coming up, and he felt the need to prove himself ready for it. Therefore the logical way to do this would be to take this blade and murder the local bully.
And so he swung the hefty blade with twig-like arms and split the apple nearest the ground straight down the perfectly down the middle, causing it to fall down before him in two halves. He picked up one of these halves and started chewing it contemplatively, allowing the sweet juices to dance lightly upon his taste-buds. He sat himself down on the twisting root of the tree.
Then, up came Gancamono, a man in grey doublet and brown cowl. His face was wrinkled and his chin coated by patchy beard. His eyes were hazy and crossed, the right always seeming to hang back from whatever it was he was viewing. “Darien what are you doing? Have you not been studying the ancient scrolls of super-importance?” He cried in his shrill rasp, flailing his arms rather unnecessarily.
“First of all, I’ve been tending your sheep, you forgetful old fool. Secondly, I AM FEELING ANGSTY BECAUSE OF THAT AMBIGUOUSLY PURPOSED ARGUMENT WE HAD AT THE DINNER TABLE LAST NIGHT! YOU ARE HOLDING BACK MY ABILITIES OF WHICH I HAVE NOT YET PROVEN IN ANY WAY AND YOU ARE ALSO STIFLING MY EXTREMELY COMPLEX PERSONALITY!” Darien responded.
“YOU HAVE NO PERSONALITY YOU OVERUSED CLICHÉ!” Said Gancamono with the voice of the audience as much as anyone else. At this all Darien could do was gawp with eyes welling up with tears. “Get back to tending my ridiculously huge herd of sheep you tosspot.” Finished the wizard.
The wise but forgetful old sage then turned and began walking back to their small but cosy little hut on the opposite side of the hill. After a few metres he then remembered what he had actually come out to say.
“Darien I remember what I actually had to say!”
“Gee whiz Gancamono was it it?” Darien was now inexplicably enthusiastic.
“First, have I mentioned that I am a forgetful wizard?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent. Well yes, the thing I was about to say to you is this…” There was a long pause.
“What is it?” Asked Darien with arms outstretched in confusement.
“The house…” He paused again, palms help up with fingers outstretched. “The house is on fire and I blame you for this.”
“Oh…” He then noticed the big billowing smoke stacks. “Why?” “Because you’ve secretly been the king’s son for the past umpteen years and now the super-dark-evil-bad-person of super-dark-bad-volcano-mountain is coming for you. Why? Because he’s an asshole like that.” Gancamono offered with deadpan seriousness.
“Oh… Sorry, could you just give me five minutes to have a serious emotional dilemma montage about this?”
“Of course, just don’t blow our budget on excessive fade transitions, Phil Collins and camera spins.”
“What’s a Phil Collins?”
“Well Darien a Phil Collins is a very interesting parasitic creature that occasionally resides inside a wild Disney….”
It was at this point the man in the deep blue veil lost interest in this fantasy of his. Sure it was fun to set up their story, but if he left it too long it always started to drag. He had always hated filler, but he always ended up going on to the point where there was nothing to do but create filler. Why couldn’t they sense his thoughts and for once come up with a solid cut-off point themselves? He grunted and decided to remind himself of the facts of the situation.
Yes, there was in fact a farm-boy and an old shepherd in front of him. They were bickering. Why were they bickering? Their house had in fact been set on fire, by the veiled man. You may ask “why?” again. Well, the boy was in fact royalty. It was no secret to himself or the shepherd, but it was to everyone around them. He was in fact the illegitimate youngest son of the recently King Peter of Gaia. He had a brother, but he was not king. In fact, neither brother had been chosen as king. Some military general had been allegedly selected to take over on his death bed. It all sounded a load of bollocks to the veiled man, but it was not his job to judge.
You see, this child, let’s call him Yosh, was one of three brothers; the sons of this fallen king. However, as mentioned before, he was illegitimate and too reveal him would be a great disservice to the dead king. It was unlikely he even wanted to attend, blaming his father for the admittedly mysterious death of his mother.
The eldest brother, Josh, was in exile for reasons best left ambiguous. While his exile had expired with the death of Peter, it had been renewed after a confrontation with the new guy. He was allowed to attend the joint funeral of Peter and a number of other Gaian nobles. After this he had to leave the borders of The Kingdom of Gaia.
The middle Brother, Slim, was an oaf, a follower of the old religion; the worship of Gaia as the only true deity. For reasons political, ideological and personal, Peter had outlawed it and this new king intended to keep up the ban, being a staunch worshipper of Herobrine and (some of) the other Divines. It also didn’t help that Slim was virtually the puppet of Gaia’s Enclave; a group of Gaian druids who believed in a number of frankly barbaric practices including human sacrifice and the ritualistic murder of Lesser Divines and Thaums for their “tainting” of the land. Slim and the Enclave too intended to attend this funeral. But, now business had to be done.
The veiled man straightened himself, rising from the coarse branches of the bush like a mysterious Venus. He pulled from his back the bow of ebony he had borrowed, and plucked a barb tipped arrow from the quiver. He lifted the veil from his face, propping the shroud atop the bow. With noiseless movement, the string became tighter and tighter, dragging the arrow with it. Then, there was the crack of an arrow, and the thud of arrow greeting flesh.
The boy fell, a barb-tipped arrow piercing his paling neck up the fletching. And with that little Yosh was no more. The veiled man covered his visage with the veil again, slung the bow back across his back and began hiking up the hill one more. Even with feet as light as his the dry and brittle dirt of that hot day of the early summer crumbled like a miniature avalanche. He misplaced a wandering sole atop a little outcrop which soon betrayed him, causing him to fall to his leather-clad knees. He cursed and allowed himself that moment of cursed weakness.
He looked down at the scene. The shepherd knelt before the boy and his blood watered the meadows, still doing him service even in death. The shepherd’s head hung like a man atop the gallows, and his hands covered it. Yet no sound came from his throat. And the veiled man allowed his feelings to get the better of him. From his back the bow came once more, and another arrow from the quiver was plucked. Then the boy’s surrogate father found an arrow piercing his throat too. And then he too was no more.
The veiled man sighed and sat on the side of the hill as the boy had done on the root of that tree. These words were whispered from between his intangible lips, “Long live the king.”
"For mods sakes, will they ever stop bickering, or at least invite me next time." was the first thing that came to my mind.
Another debate had started up in the Great Forum at The Shrine of Gaia, our "patron deity" (if one aligned themselves with heresy and treason). I had no idea what was being debated or who was taking part, but it was the duty of the various leaders to gather and at least watch the debates. This had been King Peter's duty up until several weeks before, in the clash with the Brotherhood.
In this clash the Brotherhood had rallied a few hundred thousand undead pigmen from the foulest regions of the Nether, and intended to use them to wipe out the rest of us before the Moderators could intervene in any meaningful manner. They would have attacked via the Nether Highway, a series of portals between the Overworld (or Sane Realm as some may call it), abusing the fact that the Nether is drastically smaller than the real world as well as the skill of Pigmen to launch a series of attacks on enemy capitols before retaliation was possible.
We, the Gaians had caught wind of this via a series of spies and old Pigmen contacts of mine from my days as an officer in Herobrine's Great Onslaught. Despite attempts at ignoring the problem by that obsolete swine Emperor Dominus of The Realm of Seven Kingdoms, we had managed to gather just about all of his closest friends and allies against the threat.
His response to people not listening to him was to allow a Brotherhood coup in the kingdom of Rome to go off with minimal opposition, resulting in it subsequently seceding from his kingdom; the new Brotherhood puppet killing one of his "closest friends"; providing the Brotherhood with 10,000 additional troops which they used in a sneak attack against us and forcing him to officially annex the friendly state of Wedgewood in order to keep the his nation's name valid. In short, it was not a good week to be Dominus.
Nonetheless there had been a massive battle with the THP Brotherhood and their private army of pigmen, and the Gaian army; with support from The Companions guild; the tribesmen of La Selva; the Blue Alliance: the Valhallans; and the (secretly immortal) warrior order Arcation. Despite both sides suffering major casualties, with the Brotherhood not actually permanently losing any major members, we had managed to destroy the army they'd amassed and my own defeat of Brotherhood leader Tauto Chrone had been particularly embarrassing. As such they had openly conceded defeat at Peter's funeral and my coronation.
But anyway, all of that had passed. We'd agreed to a treaty to prevent any further bloodshed. Dwelling on such things was purposeless. A new era was beginning.
I grabbed my sceptre, pulled back my crimson hood and checked that my cotton shirt had nothing on it. I did however notice that there was a piece of liquorice stuck to my auburn beard. Upon seeing this I tugged. It wouldn't budge.
The door opened as I finally managed to get it free, along with a large lump of hair. At this I let out an unearthly scream just as young Linx (captain of the guard) walked into the room. I turned - not having heard the door open, or seen Linx enter due to my bad eye - to see a very startled looking young man in ceremonial Gaian military dress staring at me. Embarrassed, I tossed the hairy piece of liquorice aside and said "Yes?" as casually as I could.
At this he pulled himself together, adjusted his green beret and said "Your entourage is waiting for you in the courtyard my king."
"Ah yes, of course!" I said quickly, "Shall we?"
And with that we set off to the courtyard. Waiting there was the present council and a few high-ranking Gaians. Among them were: Astro Joe of knowledge district. His greyish black hair and beard clund tightly to him. Wrapped around his was a fur-trimmed cloak of black velvet, with his warm face crinkled into a perpetual faint smile.
At his side was the aspiring young mage Bokane, dressed in his Thaumaturge's attire. Hanging from his shoulders was a hulking purple overcoat, laced with that magical metal, thaumium. Beneath that was an elaborate doublet of similar fabric. From his side hung his gold-tipped wand, and at the other side his purple-bladed sword.
Secret Loll, my top General was standing perched against a low archway, inspecting his ancient sword. Around his head was a fully formed copper mane and beard that burned in the sunlight. Across his back was slung a great ebony bow and a quiver filled to the brim with enchanted arrows. As on found its mark it would vanish, and reappear in his quiver. A gift from the days of the Onslaught, and a sign of his status.
Aaron, my friend and the new CEO of the Gaian manufacturing industry, stood next to him, pondering enthusiastically about whatever fantastical danger he could think of. He was by all means a pessimist, but he was an imaginative one and he didn't fear consequence in the same way others of his ilk were. Whilst some of his ideas bordered on the ludicrous, he was still a useful man for finding potential problems in plans and figuring out how to correct them. He and secret made a dangerous team in war. Aaron the strategist; Secret the improviser.
He was a large man, once known as the giant of Stoneholm. On his back was a hulking sword that most men would be challenged to carry. His skin was of a light olive shade, and his hair jet black. Around his head was tightly wrapped a dark green bandana. Always smiling, always trustworthy, he and Astro were the ones I held the highest of my friends.
Further across the courtyard was the even larger Mini Munch, the half breed. In the midday sun his patchy and coarse green skin glinted greasily. His tattered suit hung limply off of his lopsided shoulders. Everything about him was uneven, from his slow limp to his mismatched black eyes. Physically he was some sort of grotesque Frankenstein, but to be honest he was a warm-hearted young lad. The youngest of us (merely 25 years) and easily the least wary of the ways of the world. Nonetheless he was an infectious optimist and a useful asset.
Antony Mo of the Commerce section was a naval explorer. I knew little else of him other than that he and Astro were close and to be honest we didn't get on well enough for me to care to know more.
Then there was my man in commerce. Cossack, a man infinitely more qualified for Mo's position. A banker of the highest calibre, having fought his way to the top of the Arcadian market before Grumm repossessed his business. Since then I'd met with him and we'd become somewhat inseparable partners over the years. He knew all of my secrets, and I knew just about all of his.
Small Doughnut was a young aristocrat who appreciated the finer things in life, such as painting; poetry; literature; vintage wines and premeditated murder. He was an assassin by trade, but I'd managed to convince him to take the cushy post of head of Agriculture in order to keep my opponents out of government. His hair was of light blond, hinting at his ethnicity as a divine. His eyes too had that dignified quality. He also had the foul temper of those that came from the true court, and too held the same friendly disposition once you got a drink or two into him. He sat on bench in the shade, a placid bliss upon his features and a glass of wine in a hand that seem to have evolved specifically for the object.
There were a few other minor assistants and diplomats of little significance, not all of whom were comfortable with their new king. A friend of Peter's son Josh I hadn't yet dealt with here. A pagan with sympathies to the late Slim (the middle child) there. Everyone else was either too terrified to oppose us, or were sane as their former king, and had realised that the other candidates were absolute psychopaths who would have destroyed Gaia within a month. Although I have to say, the death of the illegitimate one was a regrettable measure, but one that I had no part in. Small and Cossack had made that judgement without me.
"What happened to your beard Kay?" Came the weary, but amused voice of my most trusted counsel, Astro. "Liquorice again?"
"You guessed it." I replied disinterestedly. Then it dawned on me, "What's wrong with it?!"
"Nothing." Came the playful voice of Secret as he ran a long finger along the edge of his chipped sword, "That is, if you call having a golf ball sized hole in your beard nothing."
"Really?" I said in shock, looking at my reflection in my sceptre. "Bugger! Ah well, no time to fret. Activte the shrine portal and let's go."
"Of course sire." came Astro's worn out voice. He had been like this since the battle, when Tassadar had fallen in combat with the Brotherhood. He seemed to have all but lost his fight.
"He needs a rest." I thought, "I must talk to him about it after the debate."
Five minutes later we were standing at the foot of the shrine, the debate raging on a little outside the forum, at the base of the steps up to Void's small stone house. It was a wonderful system the shrines. They were charged up gradually by sunlight (usually taking five days to a week) and could be used to transport a group of people to any other shrine across the Craft, consuming more energy with greater leaps. Controlled by Void and his moderators, they were integral to the functioning of the Craft. The names were merely mocking stabs at the pagan beliefs held by the Noobian and Testificate tribes who still occasionally appeared to make their meagre offerings.
Dominus, emperor of the Realm of the Seven kingdoms and the Brotherhood (otherwise known as the Brotherhood of the Try Hard Pants, the THP Brotherhood, or THP) were arguing again. At first I thought it was just another territory feud (probably another round in Dominus demanding back the kingdom of Rome with empty threats that everyone scoffed at), or them bickering about who started the "Great War" between the two groups, or Dominus declaring his outrage at the Brotherhood for them raiding some trading caravan headed for the Realm. That it was at first glance. In fact I was about to give my entourage the order to disperse themselves, perhaps even wander off myself a little later. However, then it happened.
"I will not stand for you or your excuses anymore Void! Either relinquish their control of Blue land, or you will regret it!" Came the outraged voice of Dominus following a loud cracking noise.
A large circle had formed around the stairs leading to void's house. At the centre was Ubi, a leading figure in the Brotherhood, lying on his back unconscious, turtle mask lying fractured on the ground beside him. Tending to his bleeding nose were Tauto Chrone (their leader, and the one I slew), Jay (the brother of the aforementioned and something of a hero among their ranks) and Komplex (their finest warrior).
Dominus himself was throwing stones at Void's house. Around the edge of the ring were the various kings of the Realm and Dom's wife, Ellen. Some looked positively triumphant, while others looked most worried indeed.
I looked around for someone I knew. There he was, Vacar, one of Arcation's finest fighters. He would know what was going on. "Any chance you could fill me in friend?"
"Well, it started out as a simple argument about the Brotherhood's new garrison in the newly independent Kingdom of Rome." He said the last few words with a touch of venom, recalling the state's recent actions. "Then Emperor Wise-**** over here started ranting about how "unfair" the system was and how "Void should step down for a real leader". He then began to throw stones at Void's house. When Turtle boy tried to negotiate," He gestured to the still unconscious Ubi. "He punched him in the face and knocked him unconscious. It was quite entertaining actually..."
"I'm sure it was." I responded, laughing uneasily. "So is it like that Zerg bloke?"
Zerg was an old moderator/self-proclaimed administrator who supposedly went crazy, helped to form a new Craft in the far away Kreatious territories. He had gone centuries before I was born, there weren't many texts about the period around and the moderators didn't like to talk about him. Vacar however, was Gogyst's apprentice. And Gogyst was technically immortal, having been a moderator at a time and since then found a super secret method of immortality which he constantly spread rumours about the existence of. I was really just fact-checking where convenient
"I guess so," He began, quite clearly distracted. "Thankfully Dominus hasn't gathered an army and attempted to take over the Craft. Or, at least the attempting to take over part."
Then one of Dominus's stones smashed a stain glass window with a deafening crash. There was a gasp from the crowd. Dominus meant business. The door suddenly swung open. Out strolled Void, who simply pointed at the shattered glass with his diamond tipped staff and caused it to reform in an even more beautiful pattern. "Yes?" Came the deep, gravelly, yet calm and somewhat amused voice of Void.
"You wanted me Dominus?" He reiterated, drawing back his hood to reveal warm brown eyes, a frail form and a light grey beard. There was an omniscient air to him, as if he already knew what you were about to say to a T and yet still intended to humour you because he was that nice.
Dominus, who was looking quite surprised at Void's sudden appearance and serene attitude pulled himself together and yelled. "RELEASE THEIR CONTROL OF OUR LAND NOW OR YOU'LL HAVE THE REALM TO DEAL WITH! They go against the treaty by taking hold of this land. Surely YOU of all people can understand my outrage?"
"Why, I most certainly do Dominus. However," He walked down the steps and placed his arm around Dominus' shoulder in a friendly way. "You lack a crucial piece of information."
"And what would that be?" snarled Dominus, lifting away Void's arm.
"That only their new members, people with Blue citizenship, are living there. They wish to offer the citizens of Rome safety from future attacks by the Realm upon them. They, as was their right as a now independent state, agreed and placed themselves under the control of the Brotherhood. In fact, there hasn't been a legal boundary between the Blue and Red territories since the united governments were destroyed eight years ago. If they use it as a bastion for attacks they're doing it completely within the law. Besides, I'm sure you're at not risk. When was the last time the Brotherhood actually issued a proper threat to you? Four, no five years ago wasn't it?" Void pleaded with Dom.
"Excuses! Always excuses. If you won't make changes, we'll have to ourselves..." said Dominus with an air of malice.
"Now Dominus," Began void, but he never finished the sentence; for Dominus had pulled a small axe from beneath his cloak and swung it at Void's neck.
I watched in awe as Void simply batted it aside. Dominus, flustered, pulled a second concealed axe out and gaped in horror as it shattered against void's forearm. Their eyes met for a few brief seconds, and I could swear I saw Void cock an eyebrow and mouth "***** please."
Dominus then extended a small knife from beneath his sleeve and lunged at Void once more. Void simply held up his hand in a 'stop' gesture and Dominus' simply froze up. Try as he might he couldn't move a muscle. Then Void simply closed his hand into a fist and the blade shattered into thousands of jagged shards; all of which toppled to the floor. Void then simply poked his golden staff in Dominus' direction and he went flying into the crowd.
"NOW!" Dominus yelled as he soared over the heads of the people.
Then all hell broke loose. The Valhallans, the Wedgians and most of Williamsburg drew swords, as did roughly half of the R7K kings. Out of the crowd came a contingent of Realm warriors; not particularly good or well-equipped fighters, but still numerous enough to pose a real threat. From thin air the moderators appeared around the now panting Void (time was evidently taking its toll; first Astro, now Void), and began to blast back the attackers with their staffs. Then came the rallying cry of "Defend the Administrator!" and all who were able burst into action.
"Are The Brotherhood the only ones who obey the "no weapons" policy?" came the cry of Komplex as he punched out a Valhallan.
"Nope!" Shouted Ray Tunes, mayor of Williamsburg as he was blasted in Komplex's general direction by Epsilon. It probably wasn't wise for him to take part in the coup when he only had an incredibly hard baguette for a weapon.
"Don't worry Komp!" I shouted, grappling with Cabbage, a general of Valhalla. "Only Secret was dishonest enough to subvert the policy fromour ranks."
"If you can't beat them Kay!" Called Secret mockingly from his perch in the shrine tree as he dispatched yet another warrior of the Realm with his bow.
I rolled my eyes and swept Cabbage's legs out from beneath him.
Fifteen minutes later we'd managed to quell the rebellion with minimal casualties. The surviving rebels had their weapons piled at the foot of the shrine and were gathered in the centre of the Forum. Before them stood Rage Peanut, Void's man for weeding out traitors, criminals and ass-hats. The man had purged the "starter zone" of crime three times over and was still standing. A true hero of the Craft; however harsh he could get, or pretend to be when defending Void.
"Where is Dominus?" Came the angry demand from Rage Peanut. "I know you're still here. It's my job to find you for trial. Step forward or I could get nasty."
He waited a few seconds. Nothing.
"Well then," He said with mock pleasure, although I could swear the twisted look in his eye was real. "I guess I'll have to be more persuasive then."
At that a small, spring-loaded firearm sprung from his sleeve into his palm. The weapon in question was a weapon known as the "Baby Jesus Perk", pioneered by The Brotherhood during the Great War. I had never seen their usefulness in battle, even started questioning it, up until the Battle for the Nether Hub. They were truly lethal, inside battle, and outside.
He pressed it against the head of Prodigy, Tassadar's brother and Ray's adopted son. I saw Astro flinch. The two had never gotten on very well, but Prodigy was his last connection to her. At this I contemplated that there may have been more to their partnership then business, perhaps friendship. That was as far as my imagination could stretch and I was drawn back to the scene of the interrogation by Rage yelling, "You have to the count of three to come out Dominus, then I kill him."
"One." A bead of sweat rolled down my temple. "Two." A tear flowed from Prodigy's eye. "Three-"
"Wait!" Came the voice of Void, who had just recovered from a prolonged coughing fit. "Just summon him!"
"Fine. If you want to do it the dull way..." Responded Rage, grumbling as he closed his eyes and pointed his staff into the crowd.
Two seconds later Dominus' flailing form soared towards Rage from the crowd, shrieking as he did so. Then, before he knew what had happened, his wind was cut off by Void's vice-like grip. He squeezed momentarily, causing the Emperor's eyes to bulge, before throwing him to the ground, retching and gasping.
"Emperor Dominus III of the Dominii line, Regent of the Realm of the Seven Kingdoms, defender of the faith, son of Dominus II and father of the late Elysium heed my words. You are hereby exiled from the Vanilla Craft, on accounts of treason, disturbing the peace, littering, asshattery, and wasting Moderator time. You have ten days to rally all loyal to you and leave." Recited Ryan calmly and with as little emotion as possible.
"Exiled hey? So you want me to leave Void. Do you? Because I think that is the best idea you've ever had. I'm leaving, and so should everyone who feels the same way as me." Proclaimed the hoarse voice of Dominus as he lifted himself from the dusty stones.
And then he and many others left, in the directions of the great gates. Surprisingly Ray Tunes and many Williamsburg citizens who were involved stayed behind. Although I was sure I saw he and Dominus exchange a meaningful look, and nod, as if in agreement. "Best keep an eye on Ray," I thought. "He's up to no good."
Before leaving the Forum boundaries Dominus yelled "You'll Rue the day you crossed me Void." And with a flutter of his obscenely long red cape he left.
At this point Astro mouthed "I'm sorry" to me and walked off. All I could say was, "Promise me you'll write!" And with a smile filled with guilt and nostalgia, he was gone in the crowd.
"Seal the gates after them." Void whispered to Epsilon. "And reopen the Omega Initiative. I fear this is only a shower, the storm is yet to come."
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Part 1: The Party
As none of us got what he was on about, or how it was uplifting that he evicted a man and stole his business; so we just laughed politely. I saw Alec and Ozzy exchange a confused glance, smiling half-heartedly. I didn't blame them, Cossack was a tough act to follow. However he and I had been through a lot together. He'd always been at my side, even before the battle for Zinecraft (the name of a now dead private server me and a few friends used to play on). He was also a nice enough guy once you got to know him. He'd been through a lot with Mo's sudden decision to up sticks and having to take over Commerce.
As for where we were, Gbaman had decided to throw a "little gathering" in his house. He did this every now and then, spending some of the fortune he'd earned from his railway monopoly on the public. We were in the penthouse suite of the R7K citadel. Gba had woken up the morning of Dominus' departure to discover that he was the only resident apart from Rider, Worlds, Ptorre, Bebe, Wise One, and a couple of transient members of the Brotherhood. Therefore, he decided to claim the citadel for himself and throw a party.
We were in Gba's penthouse suite in the citadel, with the rest of VC's elite. Among the guests there were; Gogyst and a small group of Arcation warriors; those Iron-worshiping pirates "Woobly", and their pet iron golem dubbed, "Tommy Wiseau"; Atreidon, now having left the Brotherhood to form his own group called "Mobius"; Ozzy and Alec of La selva; Piethingey and Mj of the Void; Boston; the moderators Cubsfan and Epsilon; WolvesGlare of Vangaard; some members of the THP brotherhood; the Gaian council and a few prominent members; and TKG's new business partners, Key G. Perrson and Walt Ham. Outside, surrounding the Citadel were a series of tents and tables lined with cakes and ale and many other delicacies. This was where the general public dined.
The TKG council were scattered through-out the room. In the centre, with Gba, Ozzy, Alec, Cossack, ABB, Wolves, Gogyst, Pondscum and Vacar; making pleasant conversation whilst drinking ale. Aaron was standing amidst a crowd of people from various groups who were chanting "Chug! Chug! Chug!" as he downed pie after pie. Bokane and Mini were standing on the far side of the room, so drunk they were competing for Woobly's iron golem bodyguard's love. Small was standing in between them, trying to keep them from killing each other. Meanwhile Secret was sitting in the corner in a chair, bow lain across his legs, completely asleep, but still looking intimidating. I blinked and the scene completely changed. He all of a sudden was wearing gold chains, had ginger dreadlocks, a great pink top hat, a tattered white suit, a tattoo on his neck saying "Thug Life" and was surrounded by dancing Testificates. I dismissed this on the drink and the weed smoke billowing from Wolves' pipe.
Cossack and I, despite the shenanigans of our comrades, were here on business. Cossack's job was to look into potential business connections with other groups and gather useful intelligence while they were drunk and or high. Mine was a different task altogether. I was organising a group of people to break into a top secret vault; supposedly containing prototype weapons made by the Tinkerer himself, Fedwin. The reason; Fedwin had been attacked in his apartment and put into a heavy mental coma. When we'd been to visit him he'd said something in his sleep, "Operation Overlord; beneath citadel; 3,15,4,5: 6,5,4,26,23,9,14,12,15,12." To most this was dismissed as blood as blood-loss.
I however was reminded of the times I'd spent listening in on R7K chatter. One thing that stood out was "Operation Overlord". It was a phrase I'd heard over their radio waves many times. Astro had known more about it than me, he'd said something about a bunker beneath the Citadel but hadn't elaborated. "If only he were here," I thought, "He'd know what it meant". But he wasn't there, so I had to work from memory and the Gaian records. There was one file, detailing a number of shadowy transactions and results about some form of test, even naming the operation. However any details were torn out. I barely gave thought to the numbers any thought.
Walt was the one who noticed an order in the chaos. He suggested that it may be a code. With the help of Killer; Abb's brother we found that the numbers translated as "CODE: FEDZWINLOL". Cone to think of it This had also been mentioned on the R7K chatter during the war, I was certain. So I'd told the boys from the Order to sneak in while the party was going on, locate the vault, and find out what the hell was going on.
I received a call on my earpiece. A marvellous piece of machinery, only a range of 3 kilometres without a relay, but still very useful for jobs like this. "Excuse me please Gba I need to take this call." I said, standing up slowly, and walking over to the punch bowl. I held up my sleeve to my mouth. "Yes?"
"The cuckoo has cracked the eggs alpha omega warlord sir!" Came the voice of Linx through the earpiece.
"Linx, cut the ******** and tell the magic mushroom what he wants!" came the voice of Bokane, still drunk. I knew it had been a bad idea to give him an earpiece and microphone. "I'm so h-happy!" He then slumped against the golem and passed out.
I mouthed sorry to Gba and gestured to Cossack and Small to remove Bokane from the room and put him down to sleep in one of the empty apartments.
"Sorry what did you say Linx? I couldn't understand a word. Bokane was actually right." I began slightly irritably.
"Sorry sir it's just Rb's old manual -"
"Do you really think, anyone actually read that?" I said, chuckling. Rb has spent a lot of time making dummy code books and raid procedures to mess with people.
"No. Sorry sir." He conceded; sounding deflated. "But anyway. We've cracked the vault and are currently entering. Some form of ancient machine Fedwin restored was locking it. What was it a "Computater"? Anyway we put the code into the computater and are looking for any traces of Operation Overlord. But," He paused
"But what?"
"We think someone's been here recently. First thing we noticed were fresh bootprints and that someone appears to have been dragged through. I'm starting to think that someone else is one step ahead of us."
"Keep me posted" I said hurriedly, and hung up the call.
As I returned to making pleasant conversation in the party Linx and his team were preparing for action. There were eight of them. All armed with enchanted combat knives, top of the range bows, and Gaian special forces armour. This was basically just toughened black leather and a black beret but it looked badass. These were The Kingdom's eyes and ears. Every day they waged cloak and dagger warfare with our enemies, but today was their first real operation outside of stirring up trouble in Brotherhood controlled territories and kidnapping Komplex's pets. The team was lead by Linx; with Tejmin, Allison, MPD Awesome, Prippe, Dawz, NC Power and Blaze with him. They entered the room in a wedge formation, arrows knocked, proceeding slowly. They reached a three-way fork in the roads. Down each way was lined with what looked like segments of filing cabinets. However, at the end of the centre path was a second sealed vault door, up a short flight of stairs just four steps high.
Linx cleared his throat and delivered his orders. "Tejmin, you and Blaze head right. Follow the tracks and see who or what was dragged down that way. Allison, MPD and Prippe. You head left, look for Operation Overlord. NC and I will head straight forward and see if we can do the same. Dawz, stay here and cover our back. If you see anyone, fire a flare and identify if they are friend or foe. Everybody clear then? Good. Move out!"
There was the traditional "HOO-HAH!" before they moved out. Creeping along the corridor to the left went Allison and her team. They walked for what seemed like hours; until they found what they were looking for. There it was, A small compartment labelled "Overlord".
"Excellent," said Allison; very pleased with herself. This could spell promotion for her. She tugged at it. "Bugger! Locked!"
"Allow me." Came the cocky, Swedishly accented voice of Prippe. "I will get zis open."
At that he brought his combat knife down on the lock. "Simples. Now let's get zis open! I want to get out of here fast. It gives me the creepz." And he started to tug. At last he got it open and stuck his hand in.
"Wait Prippe! It could be trap-" Then the bomb went off, and the world went white, and then black.
There were reverberations all the way up the citadel. Panic ensued up in the room of the party and some of the rabble outside appeared to be most amused. After two minutes of complete chaos Gba managed to calm everyone down. "Calm down everyone! Calm down! We're built near a fault line; tremors are really common here. Besides, we've had worse Earthquakes on Taco Night!"
This gathered a mixed response of groans and chuckles and then everyone returned to business. Cossack approached me. "I suppose you had something to do with that." He said dryly. "Time to tell me what you're really doing here. Don't give me that bull about being here for the crack of it. I know that's on half the truth."
And so I briefly recounted the story of Fedwin's injury, and his message, and the team that was currently in the bunker beneath the Citadel. "... I don't know what happened down there but it can't be good." I finished, more panic in my voice than I would like.
"I understand." Cossack responded, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Ring up Linx. I'll get Secret; I assume you've briefed him?"
"Why yes of course. Ah I see he's gotten up."
"What on Earth is he wearing?" Came the disgusted whisper of Cossack as he gestured to Secret to come over. I appears the only things I imagined were the hat and tattoo because the rest was still there. As he jogged over his dreadlocks fell off; thank Notch, it was a wig!
"So it's no just me." I said, smirking.
"Before you ask." Secret began, I have no idea where the clothes came from. I nodded off; and when I woke up I was dressed like this with two Testificates wobbling like jelly in the qua-"
"It was a bomb. The teams cocked up." Interrupted I.
"Well then, that explains it." He replied, realisation entering his eyes. "I suppose you want me to check on them."
"Both will of us will go. Cossack, as you were. You're doing doing great. Make sure to warn the others. Secret, give him your earpiece. We'll grab you Bokane's as we pass the room he's crashed out in."
"I see I've missed quite a bit." He remarked, grinning cheerily. "Ah well, Allons-y!" And we were off. On my last glance back, I saw Cossack striking up a conversation with Wolves, to have fumes exhaled in his face.
And so I called up Linx as we rushed through the empty moonlit hallways of the citadel, footsteps echoing off of the marble walls. I let out a string of curses as the first attempt failed. The second went no better. At last I succeeded on the third attempt. "What's going on down there Linx. We heard the explosion."
"Ah yes. Sorry sir. Glad to see there was no damage to the citadel. Prippe, Allison and MDP found Overlord in a compartment. They opened it u., Prippe stuck his hand in and some form of fireball shot up and hit the ceiling; which only has a very thin layer off earth before reaching the foundations. We were afraid we may have collapsed the tower.
"Well, you didn't. Hooray! Now. Did anything inside survive?"
"The compartment? Nothing. We did however find Killer, and what we believe was Fedwin's workshop here. However, Killer is unconscious. We found him in a half-open compartment, muttering about being "sorry" and having been "tricked". And the workshop is sealed from the inside. We can hear faint sounds of machinery inside. We also think we hear someone approaching every now and then. There's no evidence anyone but us and the people in the vault ."
"This doesn't bode well." Secret grimly remarked into the microphone in his sleeve. "We're on our way."
"Glad to see you're alive and well General!" Said Linx perikily
"Glad to be alive Linx. Glad to be alive." He said, ripping off the ridiculous clothing as he ran, thankfully wearing his armour beneath. He whipped out his bow and hoisted the quiver up nearer to his shoulder. Now, with the fiery beard he had grown, and the straight, chin-length hair, he looked like a true general.
All of a sudden I got a call from Cossack. "Yes Coss?"
"Things are taking a turn for the worse. First, Jolly and Tauto did their version of Taylor Swifts "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together", with ubi, beat and ninja as back-up dancers." He shivered and then continued. "And now some ass-wipe in a mask called in his regiment of armed goons and demanded Gba's surrender of the Mods, Atreidon and the Brotherhood members. Gba refused, then the guy started stirring up the commoners into some form of blind rage. Calls himself Overlord. I'm scared!"
"Don't worry. It'll blow over. Idiots like him show up all the time. They never amount to anything." I airily responded.
"Oh ****! They're bridging over the moat; and are climbing up the walls. There's some that have already made it to the lower floors." He was on the verge of complete mania now.
"Keep calm. Just try and hold them back. Throw anything down. What's Gba's plan?"
"He said something about a special group of fireworks. Scaring them off."
"Keep me updated. Bye." I hung up and turned to Secret. "We need to get them out of there."
"Definitely." He replied, exasperated.
And so we ran as fast as we could. Fires were starting outside; the rabble were trying to destroy the various buildings outside. A quick glance through a window revealed the great bank of R7K completely ablaze. I paused to take in the flickering blades of red and orange stabbing through the growing cracks in the sky blue lapis roof. However, this moment of horrendous intrigue was interrupted as a raider with a crude club climbed up and smash open the window. He began to run at me; but before I could even grab the hilt of Amicus, Secret had put and arrow in his temple. I then proceeded to throwing him back through the window; on top of his companions. As we proceeded to run towards the vault. At last we came to the open vault door. What greeted us was the embodiment of chaos.
Along the hall the once pristine metal compartments along the walls were stained with blood; or dented; or blown or ripped out of the wall. The sealed door at the end of the corridor looked as if it had been ripped open. The floor was riddled with craters and blood and scorch marks. Throughout the corridor were the outnumbered members of the Order and these mysterious masked insurgents who were trying to overcome them; as well as the assorted casualties of both sides.
On the small flight of stairs, a tall weedy looking man with a creepy smiley faced mask was throwing explosive bottles throughout the corridor. He had no regard for who he killed, as he laughed maniacally. Viral was obviously having one of his monthly midnight strolls.
Prippe and Killer lay beside the ripped vault door. Prippe clutching his knife feebly, one armed in a sling. MDP was holding back two armed men in ski masks in an attempt to keep them back. However, creeping round her right was another, and they were heading straight for Linx. Secret struck down with two arrows, one to the leg and another to the head. He slumped onto the floor and lay still, darkness covering his eyes before he crumbled to dust and flew back to whatever corner of the Earth he came from.
Linx was combating a large, bulky man wielding a chain with a knife on the end. Linx ducked under the oncoming blade and dispatched his foe with three jabs in the ribs with his blade. He saw us as a goon ran up to me, subsequently being gutted.
"Sir, you've got to stop them. They've gathered some form of arms cache on a mule drawn cart, guarded by this strange Golem. It's far more intelligent and versatile than our Golems, and it has some very dangerous firearms. We don't know what's in the cache, other than the Overlord is in it."
"Any idea what the overlord is?" Inquired Secret, eyes alive with the fire of battle.
"We know that it's some form of potion or elixir that improves soldiers; thanks to a file Killer had hidden inside his coat. But, the file was damaged and we couldn't find much else. There was an interesting story we found about a certain subject 16 who developed a certain blood-lust and turned on the scientists; later escaping. Before he escaped they named his condition Complex 16 and subsequently started called him that. He escaped two weeks aft-"
"We don't have time. Where's this cache?" I interrupted. As interesting a story as this was I was unable to see the use or meaning of it.
"They're heading towards the drawbridge. About eight strong. Well equipped for close quarters combat. We can handle ourselves here."
"Thank you Linx." And so we belted towards the gates, weapons drawn.
The curtains and wallpapers of those old halls were catching fire by the second. The remaining residents of the Citadel and Gba's private security were fighting desperately to keep out the growing horde with any weapons they would find. Stopping only to throw attackers out of our way we turned a corner. There I ran straight into Gogyst; Arcation's leader.
After a brief moment of sword pointing and drawing of bowstrings we recognised each other. Standing in front of us was Gogyst, Walkers, Bokane; now appearing sober and holding a floating ball of light, Ozzy and Walt. We lowered our weapons but were still wary.
"What are you doing here?" Asked Gogyst.
"We think it has something to do with Fedwin. But right now these creeps with a high-tech weapons cache and a superman Golem are heading towards the gate."
"Good, we're heading there too!" Then the outer drawbridge collapsed. Only now did I notice the men holding ropes standing on the other side of the moat. They began to charge and pull down the inner drawbridge. "To stop that..."
We belted down and came to a flight of steps that revealed the caravan; with the Golem staring at the inner drawbridge.
It was a large creature, just a small bit shorter than our golems. The joints were smooth balls, as opposed to our metal coils, which could easily be jammed by an arrow or spear. The top of it's head was smooth, as opposed to the rigid rectangular heads that I was used to. It's chest was plated with diamond. The eyes were what struck me most. There was a life, an awareness in those red pupils. It was unsettling. Then I realised that it had seen us and was preparing to attack.
Gogyst acted first and tackled one of the humans. Walt and Bokane ran after him, leaving myself, Secret, Ozzy and Walkers to fight the Golem. Secret nocked one of his cherished explosive arrows and fired at the Golems neck joint. The arrow exploded, but did little else except leave some scorch marks. I ran up alongside Walkers and we used the high-low tactic. He slid between it's legs and managed to leave a jagged tear in its foot. I jumped up and sliced downwards on it's shoulder. However, the tear in its foot began to weave back together. And my blade left little more then a mild dent on the might iron frame of the Golem.
Time slowed down. The end of it's square fist opened to reveal what looked like a multi-barrelled "Baby Jesus Perk". Then it batted me aside, causing me to indent the stone wall. I collapsed on my back, staring up at the skylight. The moon was shining a bright blue. The sky a murky brown from the flame below. It seemed as if hell itself had opened up down here and it remained the last haven of all that is good. I turned my head and saw it firing. Secret was flying back, his breastplate shattering; blood staining the pieces. Ozzy was lying on the floor clasping his leg. Blood was pooling around him. Walt was struck by a shell in the shoulder, knocking him to the floor.
Gogyst lay on the ground, being brutalised by 4 or so insurgents. Bokane was being held against the wall, being pummelled by a man much larger than he. Walkers made his last stand atop the cache. Finally he fell to the floor, yelling "Vive les poulets!" Then the gate came crashing down and the hordes poured in. All seemed lost, until a small red light shot down the corridor, ricocheting of the walls, whistling like a kettle.
All of a sudden, it exploded into the form of a sparkling red dragon. The hordes retreated in fear, the Golem and cache following close behind. It crawled out after them, roared a tongue of shimmering flame and took flight. The sky filled with the beasts, blue, red, yellow, green, Nyan Cat. A sight of beauty. Gba had succeeded. Then my strength failed me, and I passed out.
Day 2: The aftermath
"Kay! Wake up Kay! He's pulling through!" Yelled the familiar voice of Mini through the maelstrom.
I sat bolt upright, panting heavily, breaking out in a cold sweat. Standing over me were Mini, Small (his helmet off for once), and Aaron; all practically beaming. "Welcome back to the world of the living old friend." Chortled Aaron. He was feeling the same sense of nostalgia I was. He, Small, Cossack and Secret had found me like this once before, during our conquests in the prime of Zinecraft. "Ah memories..." I thought.
"What happened?" I asked them. "Did we win?"
"The fireworks scared off the rabble, so I guess you could say we won." Responded Aaron, granite-like face suddenly etched with seriousness. "But Overlord vanished along with his private army, the cache and the Golem. Viral was picked up by the boys from the Calais Asylum. They say he should be fine after a night of rehabilitation. Gogyst, Walt, Walkers and Bokane are at least vaguely okay. Gogyst has a cracked rib or two, and a mild limp. Walkers received a few cuts but nothing too serious. Walt's right arm is in a sling for a few days. Bokane, is still concussed; he received one hell of a battering from that guy. I'm sure he'll be mightily ed off when he regains full awareness. Ozzy's leg is really badly injured. There's talk of amputating it from the knee down. Poor guy. And Secret..." His voice trailed off gravely. I thought I saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye, but it was gone before I could be certain.
"What happened to Secret?" I was practically yelping. What had happened? I felt a pang of guilt for dragging Secret into this. "Is he-"
"Dead?" Responded Small, face pale. "No. He's alive, it's whether he'll be able to live fully."
"I don't understand."
"Best you see for yourself." He grunted. "Can you walk?"
"I think so..." I stood up and tried a few paces. I was a bit wobbly but I could move properly.
Therefore, we set off to find Secret amidst the ruins. Down torn up roads amidst burn-out shops and houses. Along the way I saw what had become of many of our Gba's guests. Wolves and the group from Vangaard were in the wreckage of a bar, downing budget flagons. Wolves had abandoned his pipe, looking thoroughly sober as he and Rage exchanged war stories. At first I was confused as to where the pipe had gone, and why he had been smoking herbs to begin with, then I realised that it had been 4/20 yesterday, and dismissed my confusion. Wringelle of La Selva had come up to see his leader, but was trying to find out what happened from Pie and Mj. This, was a poor idea, as it was embellished with many acts of individual heroism. Viral was being loaded into the back of a carriage by Starletts and some other people from Calais. Gogyst was sitting on a barrel surrounded by worried Arcation warriors, insisting that he was fine. The Brotherhood was fully present. Most were either looting the corpses or exchanging war stories. Komplex Sixteen however, looked troubled. I had never seen someone from the Brotherhood look like this in public. "What was that patient Linx told me about called? Complex 16?" I shook my head at the thought. However I did make note to ask Linx about it.
Secret was in one of the more intact wings of the great bank which - like many parts of the wreckage - had been converted to a medical station. It was highly depressing from the point of entry. The great lapis dome had collapsed in on itself in many parts, leaving it to look like a broken eggshell. The wooden stairs and woollen tapestries were burnt up from the fires. The walls had been knocked in in many parts, allowing beams of light to reach through and shine mournfully on the floor. The sky was grey, mixed in with black smoke fumes. Fires were still burning in certain parts of the city and bank. Then the heavens opened, and it began to rain.
Tarpaulins were put up like crude tents to keep the more vulnerable patients warmer. All the while we proceeded to Secret's location. On the way I saw Alec and a few other tribesmen standing over their fallen leader. His leg was turning green in parts and the skin around the wound was caked with blood and cracked stone. We stopped a few minutes to pay our respects.
"So Ozzy, how fares the leg?" I began.
"Not too good. Thankfully talks of amputation are being put off. They think if it does come to that they'll attempt a respawn operation." He responded with an attempt at satisfaction. The doctors could dress it up with all the fancy terms they wanted, a respawn operation was never pleasant. A respawn operation was basically them giving a painkiller to the patient, and testing out a stupid-ass method to kill them painfully. This usually resulted in scarring or weakness upon re-forming.
"I suppose you've got some great stories from the battle?" Said Mini, filling in the space where I could think of little to say.
"Glad you asked. What's your name again? Mini?"
"Precisely. So, tell me what happened with that Golem."
And we left them as Ozzy told his tales of war to Mini and the tribesmen. Down a few more wings, passing a badly beaten Cubsfan, and Scrumping Pup trying to find the café on a very complicated map. Finally we found Secret, Cossack, Bokane and The Order.
Cossack was sitting on a stool beside Secret's bed, clutching a bloody knife and looking shocked, almost in disbelief. Bokane, sitting on the bed to Secret's right, was holding a pork-chop up to one eye and crying silently from the other. Around the bed were the scattered members of the order. On a bed directly across from Secret lay Prippe, right arm in a sling, fingers warped beyond recognition. To his right Killer lay, a large lump on his forehead, Abb at his bedside.
Secret lay on the bed, struggling to breath, body riddled with wounds. Ribs, showed beneath torn-up eggshell armour. His eyes were glassy, and sweat ran down the ridge of his sharp, unbroken nose. The medic came up behind me.
Fluffy Toast was his name. Once he had served as butler of the Brotherhood but changed sides during the Brotherhood-Realm war. Stole much of the Brotherhood's stash of medical apparatus and bombed out most of the rest. Made himself a name as a minor hero that day. Since then he'd been working in the field of medicine; helping to do good in the world.
"In case you're wondering" He sighed gravely. "I don't think he'll walk again; perhaps not even talk. At least, not in this life. I recommen-"
"I know what you'll recommend. I'm loath to perform such an act upon my good friend. To do this would be to gamble with his life in a way unbecoming to all he's done for me, the council, and The Kingdom of Gaia itself!" I interrupted scathingly, turning from him in resentment. Then I realised the error of my ways and turned back to him. He looked thoroughly put out. "I'm sorry Fluff. I'm afraid to do this. I've lost too many friends as of late. Pie; then Tassadar; then Mo; and sorest of all Astro."
"I understand full well sir. But he needs you to make a tough decision." He was looking me full in the eye, gesturing to the sword at my hip. "Can you make it?"
I drew Amicus. That sword left by Tassadar to Astro in her will; then by Astro to me. For a moment everything flashed before my eyes in reverse. Secret gunned down by the drawbridge. Astro and Mo marching towards the great gates, Astro and I's eyes meeting momentarily. The silhouettes of Rb and Ice disappearing into the night on horseback. Pie lying dead on the table, clasping his sword and Jolly's whip in each hand. Tassadar gutting ubi and the bridge collapsing beneath her; sending her toppling to her death below. Gerrit being cast into the pit by Epsilon. Celestick getting into that carriage, never to be seen by my eyes again. Blogan falling to the floor, a smoking hole in his crown. Tauto standing over me, surrounded by flames; sword swinging down towards me. All those tragedies, could I make Secret become one of them?
My eye met his glassy eyes. They were pleading, no, begging for me to end it; one way or another. Thus I swung the sword over my head and down onto his neck. Blood stained the sheets. There was a tense moment when I actually believed he wouldn't reform. Then he began to crumble, bliss flushing over his eyes before they faded into dust. With a sigh of relief I turned to the order.
"Linx, what are our casualties? I see only six of us? Where's Dawz, Allison and Tejmin?" I inquired.
"Only Prippe and Killer sir. Allison has some minor burns and is having them patched up at the moment. Tejmin and Dawz are examining the vault with a few Arcation warriors we told. I trust it is within our interests now to make this investigation open to other leaders as it plainly has wide-reaching consequences."
"It most certainly is friend. One thing, I need to know what you found out about Overlord. You said you found out something about subjects. Are any alive?" I made it very clear that I wanted no .
"You'd be surprised by who is." He started amusingly. Linx was a former con-artist and loved a bit of theatrics when telling a story. "So, about ten years ago, around the time you and many other refugees of the Great Onslaught arrived, the Realm and its allies started readying for war, in case of attack from the new powers that would inevitably arise. For the most part, research was inconclusive, defective or too damn elaborate for anything but defence. All of a sudden they found something odd; an additive that could potentially create infinite effects for potions. So they called in their best men; Fedwin, the Tinkerer; Gbaman, renowned Redstone genius; and an outsider from the Calais asylum, one of the "Ghosts" as they were known. This outsider became known as Overlord. While he contributed little scientifically, he kept the project running at peak efficiency. Eventually they managed to create some blueprints for formulas. However, they needed people to experiment on, volunteers. So they searched among the populace of the Realm three times over. Not one man volunteered. Then they decided to search outside the Realm. Still nothing. They'd all but given up hope when Overlord showed up with 16 volunteers and a true Golem.
"Not one of our manufactured ones, real living golems; like from the stories. With intelligence to rival the human race. However, these volunteers, can be inferred from some of Overlord's old memos to really be kidnapped refugees."
"Hang on." I interjected. "You got his memo's? Also, I think I remember hearing stories about some bandits going around and kidnapping able looking refugees. No one ever found out what happened to them."
"We didn't get them all, and sadly he was careful to encode many of the more sensitive looking pieces of info. But from what we learned they held the subjects in an underground bunker system under heavy guard. Despite decent living conditions and food, the subjects were discontent; desperate for freedom. They developed 16 "stable" versions of the formula. The principle of the Overlord serum was that it was a permanent super-potion if you are confused. You're basically invincible. They began to test them out on the subjects, in small doses, and without the additive at first, but they eventually gave them larger doses.
"With samples from the Golem they developed a sort of living armour that could latch to a being and form and de-form at will. Essentially they can suit up entirely with a thought. The problem was the armour would permanently latch, and the process of attaching was excruciatingly painful. Gba wanted to develop these further, so as to allow the soldiers choice to give up their armour; and to make it as painless as possible. However, Overlord was evidently not very patient, and wanted to give Dominus a deadline for their work within the next 4 months. He demanded that his colleagues attach the armour to their subjects immediately. Gba wanted out. He was forcefully removed after attempting to stab Overlord in the eye with a pen, and then had his memory wiped. Fedwin, having been convinced by Overlord that it was a necessary evil, continued in good spirits.
"A week after attaching the armour to them, leaving jagged scars along the arms, legs, chest and back Overlord demanded that they give the subjects the formulas with additive. Also, to wipe their memories and re-program them as soldiers of the Realm. Most of the subjects forgot, but there was one who despite no knowledge of why, despised the Realm. However, the formulas gradually displayed side-effects. These were various mental disorders known as Complexes. They didn't reduce them to a coma or anything, simply increased a mental feature to undesirable proportions. The subject that would not forget developed an unquenchable blood-lust. The scientists began to name the different subjects after their Complexes and numbers. Therefore the subject mentioned became Complex 16. He eventually escaped, destroying the base in the process." He finished, staring at me. Wondering what to do.
I walked over to the window, mind in turmoil at what I had heard. So, Overlord was from Calais, but was the Overlord from the story even alive? Was this the same one? Over the years, Calais had splintered into multiple different groups and many members had died as a result of these power struggles.
I looked out the window in the hope of some clarification. That was not the right path. Void's private army had arrived and had gathered a group of Overlord's men. They lined their prisoners up against a wall, and took aim with their polished oak bows. There were a series of thuds, and darkness covered their eyes. Void's men, with their expressionless gas masks, their menacing blue eyes, their polished swords and shields, proceeded to walk among the dead, extinguishing the sparks of life from any who dared so much as twitch. These soulless shadows of men went about their business without word, interruption, or even breath. Void only called them out when he meant business. This was not a good sign.
Then came Void's booming, echoing voice from every angle; announcing his presence. His face was in every reflected surface in sight.
"Will he ever give us some sort of bloody warning! I was contemplating for mods sake!" I shouted, clutching my chest. He'd startled me out of my skin and I was pretty ed off.
"Terribly sorry Mr Mandy." Void taunted, inspiring chuckles from myself and many others. That had been Astro's nickname for me and it brought about yet another wave of nostalgia. "I would just like to say that we are holding a council of lords."
This brought about a series of gasps and shocked looks. "There hadn't been a Council in 9 years. Not since the bombing of the Council chambers, and the dissolution of the original United Blue and Red governments.
"I know what you're all thinking. We don't want another target for these terrorists who have recently sacked the Realm. However, we have taken every precaution to make this one safe. Besides, I'm sure this "Overlord" is simply a ed off anarchist, with a group of thugs, who between them have only one talent. That talent is stirring up drunkards into a frenzy. I have one thing to say to you Overlord. "Check yo self!" The meeting will take place at the Great Forum in two days. That's all." And so his face flickered out of sight, and his voice faded away.
I turned to face the Council and Order. "Aaron, Small and Cossack. You will accompany me to this Council. Bokane, Abb and Mini, you take most of the Order and our wounded back to the Kingdom. There you will devote our resources to the Overlord case. Dawz and Tejmin will come with myself and my entourage to the Council. After the Council meeting, we will all gather in the palace for tea, scones, and pumpkin pie. Not the cheap guff we usually have, the vintage stuff; from Pie's old stash. After that, we assemble whatever evidence we've gathered and see what comes together. You have your orders. Follow them! Chop Chop!" And so they set about carrying out my orders, leaving me to ponder the mystery of Overlord.
Day 5: A gathering of leaders
I may as well address those who were there specifically. First off there were the knights of Vangaard, the centre of culture and beauty in the Red Zone. They were led by Wolves Glare, one of the finest warriors to ever set foot in this land. It is said that once he slew a Wither with little else but two potatoes, a bow with no string, a tattered old tie and four grams of gunpowder. At his side he held that deceptively cheap-looking sword "Mourning Wood", at the edge of which many men had fallen.
Then there were the Legionnaires; once the heart of military Red Zone, the official army of the United Red Government. Since its dissolution and the disappearance of General Palmer they had entered a period of sharp decline. Then Ruary, a young commander had got it back on its feet, stronger than ever. With their crimson cloaks, and black steel armour they looked like the legionnaires of Ancient Rome. Sadly, this unstoppable appearance didn't help them when I struck last. I allowed myself a moment's smirking. But then I succumbed to the remorse of the memory of that one brief second when I became that which I hated most. Ruary was a tall man, a full three inches taller than myself. with well-built, sturdy shoulders, yet a narrow figure and gaunt face. Those eyes of deep blue were etched with sorrow and war. Yet Ruary himself was a cheerful enough man, with a laid-back attitude and relaxed posture. Nothing like he was in the field.
Ray Tunes and Knight Prodigy of Williamsburg were also there. I couldn't say I was pleased to see them. There was a time when Williamsburg and Gaia's domain were friends. Then Tassadar, originally an ambassador from Williamsburg died, and squabbles over her will had all but destroyed foreign relations. The uprising at the Great Forum two months prior had not helped either. For a second Ray and I's eyes met, then we both looked away in disdain.
Atreidon of Mobius stood alone along the edge of the Forum. He had been apart from The Brotherhood for quite a time now, and was still learning to live with the relative poverty of the old Blue Frontline; as opposed to the diamond encrusted halls of "THP-Land" as it was now called. He clasped that spear which had once been his mod staff; when he was still Mad Dog. His round, leathery face was framed with the straggly dark hair, hanging from beneath his helmet. His light blue armour was dirtied, as were his skin, shield and spear. Despite this appearance he was still that same Archangel who had risen from his own ashes and bested me that day.
Gogyst, Vacar, Walkers, Shadows and Besta of Arcation stood in the centre. All were dressed in their diamond plated Samurai armour, all masked except Gogyst. He wore no helm or mask; just his hood, which cast unnaturally dark shadows over his face, rendering it invisible. On his chest blazed the mark of Arcation. Over his back he had a mighty great-sword. However, this was far from his most terrifying feature. His spear, like Atreidon's had once been a mod's staff, long since stripped of it's magic. However, Gogyst had tinkered with it for a long time and managed to make it into a mass of tricks, traps hidden weapons and explosives. I had seen it in battle but once, and would forever sit in awe and terror of the art with which he used it. I thanked Notch that he was on our side.
Then there were Ozzy and Alec of La Selva, looking most conspicuous indeed. They were dressed in lime green suits over white shirts, with the collars of their coats encrusted with shattered emeralds. On their heads they wore lime green bowler hats, and on their hands they wore gloves of bright white. This combined with the canes hung over their forearms, gave them the look of the Thompson's from "The adventures of Tin-Tin". I thought that they had lost it for a brief moment. Then I noticed the bulge of a breastplate from beneath the shirts, and a crack where the handle of the cane met the shaft. In this crack I saw the glint of an emerald green blade. I smiled; Ozzy always believed that the most subtle things were the most eye-catching.
Then there were the great, iron-loving librarian pirates of Woobly. I must admit I believed many of them to have perished at the end of the THP-R7K war. You see, after they bombed R7K they invoked the full hatred of both Brotherhood and Realm soldiers alike. Not to mention the fact that the librarian pirates had gathered dirt on just about everyone in the land. Therefore the Brotherhood convinced the Realm to lend them some explosives for their journey back, in order to exact vengeance. What they got were three "Bunker-Breakers". R7K special weaponry that could do exactly as the title suggests. Thus as the Brotherhood and her allies marched by the Woobly Pyramid, they fired the missiles at the them. Not a single man, animal, nor Golem survived. Or so we thought, about six months ago Woobly had reared it's rubble-coated head again, wilder than ever.
On the edge of the crowd, already seated at their booth in the various layers (the Forum has been altered to be a cross between the "Galactic Senate" from "Star Wars" and a Greek Amphitheatre) were the Ghosts of Calais. Starletts was looking most smugly at Ray Tunes, who in turn looked uncharacteristically unsettled. It was an "I-know-something-that-will-get-you-into-massive-trouble-but-you-don't-know-what-it-is-yet" sort of look. I took note of it. It could be significant. Ever since Ray and Dom's exchange at their parting, I had had Ray followed everywhere. He was rarely without a stalker from the Order. And when he was without one of us watching him, there was a subcontracted mercenary doing the job for us. Also among the Ghosts was, Viral, looking very sane indeed, sipping tea and making pleasant conversation with that silken tongue of his.
Alas, there were the most menacing looking of all; The Brotherhood of the Try Hard Pants. Five of them stood there, weapons sheathed but never moving their hands off the hilts. First there was Jolly, with his Mask made to resemble a slime, his whip of fire, and his necklace of rings taken from fallen enemies. It had been significantly shortened since Pie slew him in that battle but he had recovered quickly. Then there was Tauto, with his helmet adorned with gold, and lapis, and redstone; with his sword in the scabbard on his left, knife in the scabbard to his right; just as I fought. Tauto however, had an added boost to his lethality. The gauntlet with which he held the knife could channel lightning through it at will, likely to end any it touched. Then there was Ubi, wearing a hood made of diamond threads and turtle mask. He had slotted his chakrams into his wrist-plates where they could be used as shields, but also be grabbed and used as weapons at any time. Little was known of him other than his previous leadership of The Azure Tribe; who had long since faded out of public knowledge. Then came the surprise; Bottany, the hawk-eyed. Bottany was known even less than Ubi, and was still widely thought, like Woobly, to have perished in the great war. Even to those of us who had seen Bottany alive since then were taken aback by his sudden appearance. Lastly there was Komplex, armour emblazoned with the Brotherhood's crest and his two swords slung over his back.
Also there were The Kingdom's newest allies, Waltco and The Blue Alliance. Of Waltco there was just Walt alone. He was an aspiring young businessman with a quick wit, silken tongue, and a way with a bow. I had found him in the slums of starter zone, already setting up an impressive bakery. I had managed to convince him to come to TKG with me and get customers who could properly pay, as well as get funding to expand elsewhere. Since then he had paid for himself ten times over and I was proud to call him friend. He had also become a guest military advisor on the Council for his experience in the field of strategy during the Great Onslaught; even though we'd fought on opposing sides.
Then there was Key G. Persson, a short, thin man, in a tattered suit and fedora, with a permanent look of cunning in his eyes. He had been fighting a guerilla war against the Brotherhood since Dominus surrendered to them the first time. About a year ago they had found his base and raided relentlessly. His Blue Alliance took heavy casualties and was forced to disband. However, recently Key had resurfaced and I was the first to track him down and make a deal. Now he stood with two thugs flanking him, looking ready for a fight.
Also there were Boston and the other leaders of shining Concordis. The brothers Pi and Mj of the Void, a splinter of both The Kingdom of Gaia, and Legion. Lastly, there was Steal, CEO of a shady company known as Infinity Inc. They had no known political allegiances or motives, yet they worried me greatly.
Then Ryan came running forwards into the central platform and began to speak. "Be seated, for the magnificent Lord Void comes forth to address us." He then hopped down from the platform and took his place in the eleven chairs surrounding Void's podium.
I walked through the crowd, looking for the Gaian booth. Sitting there were Aaron, Cossack and Small; drinking and joking among themselves. Dawz and Tej were standing, straining themselves to see over the crowd, presumably looking for me. "Hail Gaians!" I shouted, beaming from ear to ear. "How goes the watch?"
"Oh cut the rubbish Kay! Come sit my old friend." Retorted Aaron with his customary ear-to-ear grin. He then pulled out a mug and began pouring some strange brew of his. "Do have some mead. We may as well enjoy ourselves while we're here."
"Here-Here!" Coughed Small, choking on his drink.
"Fine, I'll take your mead. But don't allow yourselves to get completely smashed as you did at Gba's. We must be vigilant this night. Keep your weapons within reach. Especially you Aaron. Without Secret we lack an archer, you are the only one who can match him from among us." I responded, keeping my tone as casual as possible."
Aaron, maintaining his grin, gestured to me to come closer and whispered in my ear. "They're surrounding the Forum. Void's Guards. He's not allowing any room for error tonight."
I looked up to see that they had locked their shields and were forming a sort of wall around the Forum. Just peaking over their lines you just could make out the roofs of some moderators' houses and the Great tree of Gaia, standing proud against the skyline. It was a sight of beauty over that wall of men. Then the other ten mods (Epsilon, Viking, Cubs, Rage, Gorbanth, Ludio, Splorer, Celtic, Onyx and Yamada) came out, taking their seats around the platform, for us to see Void materialise out of thin air into the centre of it. "Never could resist a chance for a grand entrance." I thought.
"Hello my friends!" He began, arousing a round of applause. "Some of you may have heard the rumours. Rumours of a strange terrorist in a mask who has gone around encouraging the Starters to rebel, and collecting the old weapons of Fedwin. Rumours of an old project started by the Realm during the War. Rumours of the sacking of the Realm. I can confirm all of these I'll tell you one you haven't heard. Overlord just stole Fedwin." He allowed this to sink in for a moment, and for the mutterings of the Clans to silence. "That is right my friends. The tinkerer has been kidnapped by Overlord. That is why we were delayed. However, before I address the Overlord situation. I have potentially darker news."
A battered looking, hunched man, in dented diamond armour that was stained with the marks of battle, limped up to the platform. All of a sudden I realised this to be King Legend. This could not be good if he returned looking like this. "What had happened? Was my Vision coming True? Was Astro okay?" was all that could come to my panicked mind. Then he open his mouth and spoke in a hoarse, raspy voice, coughing frequently.
"Hello people of Vanilla Craft. I come here with news of Dominus and the others. I can safely say that things have taken a dark turn indeed. Dominus has gathered many of our old outlaws. Ace! Peanut! Huskers! Mini Muffin and Eric Blood Axe! And many others! However, I could live with the gathering of these, as I believed some of their innocences and of turning the other cheek. Dominus has gone beyond the point of rallying outlaws. He has unleashed Zerg! Who in turn has raised an army of automatons, and shades of the dead. Not just dead players, no. Of fallen moderators also!" This started utter pandemonium which took ten minutes to calm. After this was done Legend continued. "Myself and Jared, with the aid of Wise One; confronted Dominus and attempted to slay Zerg once and for all. Our armies were slaughtered. Jared and myself were the only survivors. He lies in a medical bay now with a knife in his ribs. I estimate that it will take them three months to organise their forces for a siege. However, even then there are the great gates which keep them from entering. The smaller passages in are easily collapsed or defended so the land is virtually invulnerable as long as the gates hold. I believe that they intend to destroy the wall earlier. Overlord may be connected to this effort."
In the panic that ensued no one noticed someone from the dimly lit table of the Ghosts walk into one of the service tunnels or the two strange hooded figures who waited for him. All eyes were on Void; pleading for a course of action. He seemed almost as taken aback as the rest of us, giving Ryan a "Did you know about this?" sort of look. Epsilon then, deciding that no one was going to calm down any time soon and yelled "QUIET!". This gave me a few seconds to assess my thoughts. "****! My vision is coming true! What is Astro doing? He's normally in the thick of these things. Did he perish with Legend and Jared's armies? Or is he even still with them? Where the hell did I leave my coat? Was that even a real doorman? Everyone else who wore a coat seems to still have their's? Oh god that man was a thief wasn't he! That was my best coat! Overlord sucks. Oh yes, the wall. Oh dear we'd best start thinking about that." came my scattered, random thoughts.
Void began to speak again, his tone filled with forced unwilling uncertainty. "First off, Dominus can batter those walls all he likes. There's no way of getting through those walls. Herobrine himself couldn't shatter them ten long years ago.
As for Overlord; we've known of Overlord for about a month now. But we believe he's been in operation as a terrorist for longer. Last month he occupied the starter zone city known as "Vanilla City" for three days. We went in to storm the city and he, nor any of this private army of his were anywhere to be found. However there was a sharp decrease in people. He has done multiple smaller operations of occupying shanty towns, gathering men and leaving since then. Just two nights ago he sacked R7K's Capitol and laid siege to the citadel. It was foolish of us not to warn of him before. But we are taking measure to catch him as we speak.
For one, we know that he is or was a member of The Ghosts of Calais. We also know he wears a mask of quartz that resembles that weird group, "Anonymous's" masks. So if you see a mask similar to that... Yeah... um... tell us. I know to go on!" Void quickly interjected, hearing the boos of many dissatisfied leaders. "However, we can hunt him down. We already have a list of suspects. They are as follow-" That's when he interjected.
"Sorry Void, I don't believe I can allow you to do that." Came Overlord's mocking voice, his face appearing in every surface suddenly, then vanishing just as quickly as it had arrived.
It came from nowhere. A missile struck the Williamsburg booth, sending Ray and knight flying as the flames consumed their comrades. The duo lay strewn out on the stairs leading up to the edge. Then another came down on the edge, smashing the seemingly impenetrable lines of the guards as if they were but an eggshell. Then another struck the tree of Gaia, cutting through the leaves into the trading hut. One flew at Void's platform, but he simply raised a hand and it stopped, and he threw it into the nearby lake with just a flick of his wrist. Then a missile struck just behind our booth, sending us flying. Each ball of flame kicked up more rubble and dirt, and created a larger crater than the last. At last the rain of fire stopped.
I lay on the ground, my diamond armour sullied and dented from the explosion. I crawled to my feet, straining even to see. When I got up I saw Small dragging Cossack, who's leg was twisted out of place, towards the safety of the service tunnels. Dawz and Tej were helping Aaron to stand up. I ran up to them.
"What was that?" demanded Tejmin desperately.
"My guess," began Aaron gruffly, cutting across me before I could begin. "Overlord's spoils from the citadel."
"Must say I agree." Said Small, who was approaching us; having left Cossack in a cupboard, safely out of harm's way. "This sort of fire-power could only be a Fedwin invention. Now they have him held hostage. "
We all drew weapons, and stood in a circle ready for battle. The hordes poured into the basin. At their head was Overlord's honor guard. Overlord himself was wearing his mask, a travelling cloak and a brilliant white gauntlet. To his right was the Golem, showing no wounds from our last encounter. There would have been over 3000 of them in the square had Void not acted quickly. Thankfully we had but 300 to deal with.
He raised his now luminous staff high above his head, arms shaking under an invisible weight. All of a sudden the ground around the top of the Forum began to raise into the great circular wall, some ten metres high. He looked at Ryan, Celtic, Onyx and Epsilon and they shimmered out of sight. They appeared on top of the wall just a split-second later, blasting down any who dared to attempt the climb.
Of all the warriors who fought that day Arcation proved themselves mightiest. Vacar cutting down men with that flaming sword of his like a farmer cutting down wheat, reaping in the harvest. Besta with his Bow, and Walkers with his great shield, like a brick wall. Besta would stand to fire an arrow, felling a man, and then Walkers would raised the shield and prevent the hail of arrows that came for his comrade from finding flesh. Then there was Shadows, swinging his axe, every which way, leaving a trail of body parts and death as he pushed forwards. Then Gogyst, with his spear of tricks, was thrusting it at any he could, often blasting fire or some hidden poison-tipped needle from a hidden hatch in the shaft.
In the centre, the remaining mods, the legionnaires and the knights of Vangaard were struggling to hold off the onslaught of the Golem. They would have fallen there and then had Wolves, Ruary and Komplex not set seen through the chaos and rushed the Golem, attacking from each side, distracting it in any way they could. Alec and Ozzy quickly joined them, harassing the Golem with their bows. Small looked quickly for approval to break off from the group of TKG members and her allies that were attempting to battle part of Overlord's honour guard. I nodded approvingly and he was off, hacking at the Golem's legs with his little knife.
We were able to force back the small group of elite soldiers quite easily. We then turned our attention to the centre. By we I mean the TKG delegation (minus Small), Walt and a few hired swords of his, Pi and MJ, and Mr. Persson and his thugs. In the centre Atreidon and Cubs were standing by Void, who was lying on the floor unconscious. Overlord and the main body of his honour guard were advancing fast. Viking and Ludio stood in their way but was soon overwhelmed by their sheer strength of numbers. Atreidon Hurled his spear at a guard coming onto the platform, striking him just above the nipple, drawing much blood. He then lunged at his foe, tackling him and a man just to his right, toppling off of the platform.
Overlord set his iron boot upon the quartz platform with a sickening clang. He, flanked by his guard walked slowly towards Void. Cubs stepped resolutely between them, creating a barrier between them. Overlord spoke, voice muffled from the solid quartz of the mask. "Do step aside boy, you'll make a fool of yourself." This caused his men to chuckle at the sight of a relatively weak-looking young man with a metal rod and cloak standing between them and Void. There was a tense moment of silence, then Overlords men rushed forwards to be met with Cubs full fury. He crushed necks to dust with his staff, threw men farther than thought to be possible, he drew their blood with his short-sword.
We noticed that Cubs would eventually be overrun and prepared action. Aaron and Walt nocked arrows and began to pick off the men who advanced on the platform from small vantage points on the abandoned booths nearby. Pie Thingey and MJ ran around the side, hoping to sneak up on Overlord. Walt's mercenaries joined Key, his thugs and the two Gaian warriors, Dawz and Tej. I ran with them, hoping to spill some of Overlord's blood myself.
Then, as we got within ten metres, Overlord stepped towards Cubs. "I grow tired of these games." He began, boredom turning to malice in his voice. "It is time for the main event." He threw back his cloak to reveal his gauntlet of quartz. He reached outwards and the light in the middle of the palm glowed, and the staff flew from Cubs's grasp into Overlord's outstretched hand; to be crudely cast aside. As Cubs gaped in shock a ball of lightning formed in Overlord's palm, which he threw at the dumbstruck mod, blasting him aside like a dandelion petal in the wind.
Key rushed at Overlord with his men, striking down a spear-wielding guard as they went. Overlord's quartz plated fingers merged together into a mighty blade and he cut down both of Key's guards before reverting it to its normal stand and blasting Key apart. Then came Pie and Mj, fighting through the crowd with their knives. Mj swung at Overlord's head, but he ducked under the blow, throwing an uppercut into Mj's throat. Mj spluttered blood and crumbled into dust as the gauntlet collided with his throat, reducing bone to powder. Pie, angered at the demise of his brother, rushed at Overlord, swinging his knife at Overlords unprotected arm. The knife cut through and left a jagged welt on Overlords fore-arm. This however angered the madman. He drew a Baby Jesus with his wounded arm and shot Pie in the hip. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his hip where a ragged wound surrounded by burn-marks showed.
Dawz and Tej rushed forward. Dawz first shot a Guard in the nape of the neck with his bow and then tackled Overlord. Tej ran forward and began to carry the wounded Pie from battle, beating back the attackers with his combat knife. Dawz and Overlord continued to grapple until Overlord punched Dawz in the gut, and pushed the winded warrior back. Dawz tried to shoot again but his foe simply batted it from his grip. Dawz tried to recover by swinging his knife at Overlord. However he countered with his gauntlet and clasped Dawz's head, frying it with a ball of lightning. Tej, in a fit of rage, charged at Overlord but was run through with that great white blade; promptly crumbling to dust.
Then, with Walt covering us, Aaron and I readied our weapons and rushed at him. Breaking through the line of guards that was forming around Overlord and the still unconscious Void we used a tradition high-low tactic. Aaron would hack his axe at the legs and I would cut through his neck with Amicus. However, Overlord somersaulted over us both, landing behind us. He then hurled a ball of lightning at me, which I just barely dodged, losing balance as that warm, blue flash flew past my left ear. Aaron swung at his gauntleted arm, but was blocked with a ringing clang that kicked up a shower of sparks. The axe began to splinter and Aaron recoiled in shock. In this moment of dismay Overlord clouted him around the head, leaving him unconscious.
I rushed at him to defend Aaron, but after having Amicus wrenched from my hand, I was felled also. I lay face-down on the cold, hard, smooth ground, facing the Overlord as he finally continued his advance on Void. He stood over our fallen leader, now grabbing him, lifting him by the scruff of his neck with his bare hand holding the gauntlet close to Void's face, illuminating it with a pale blue light. I could swear I saw him smirk as he prepared to blast Void from the face of this earth.
He would have done so if it weren't for Viking, who had broken free from an engagement from some particularly ferocious men and their hounds who wished to test their metal against a moderator. How foolish they had been to challenge this slayer of men, this champion of Void's. He who Void himself had chosen to battle the Ender dragon whenever it reformed, keeping it from breaking free from it's prison. Viking saw his master being readied for slaughter and pulled his bloodstained javelin from his back. He threw that javelin with all his strength, sending it soaring across the starry sky, heading for his master's assailant. It sadly fell short, and struck Overlord on the collarbone of his gauntleted arm, saving Viking's master but failing to end the menace. Overlord fell to the ground quite helpless, blood spilling onto the white platform as he tried to yank the diamond tipped projectile from his shoulder. Viking, cursing under his breath, drew his blade and charged forwards.
At this moment the Golem witnessed its fallen master helpless on the platform, and broke free from his struggle, batting Komplex aside like he was a fly and shaking the warriors of La Selva off of its mighty shoulders. Then, kicking Small aside, ran towards Overlord, firing bullet after bullet at Viking, and any other who should oppose him. Viking was forced to take cover behind some rubble as the Golem's shells tore up the ground. Keeping up the rain of death the Golem ran up to its master, yanked out the spear with it's talon like fingers and threw him over its shoulder. It then turned tail and fled back up to the edge of the Forum, to a crack in Void's wall; a three soldiers of Overlord's honour guard accompanying it.
I pulled myself to my feet and looked around. Those around me were either fighting or unconscious or tending to their wounded. Aaron lay on the ground, a great bruise forming on his unconscious face. Viking was tending to Void, evidently not willing to leave his master's side. The other mods were locked in combat. Cossack had broken free from his supply cupboard with a bucket upon his head, supported by a mop, lashing out with a rake yelling "THE PINK SHEEP ARE COMING!". Only Walt came rushing to me, bow in hand. "Kay, what should we do? Are you all right?" He asked, tone frantic.
"I think I'm okay my friend. As for what we do..." I looked up to see two hooded figures, surrounded by some eight bodyguards and clasping Perks in their hands awaiting the Golem as it climbed the great stone stairs. Then there was the part that really caught my attention. Prodigy, was crawling up the steps and preparing to attack; looking badly burned. I took a glance at the Williamsburg table. Ray was burnt to a crisp and quite plainly dead. The Golem reached the rim of the Forum, and with its entourage, and marched in the direction of the Pit of Banishment. That's when Prodigy appeared to curse, pull out a small blue gem, and threw it. It crashed onto the roof of one of the nearby moderator houses, and with a puff of smoke he materialised on top of the roof. Once he had straightened up he continued to sneak along after the entourage.
Walt pulled out one of these Ender Pearls himself. "Shall we go?" He asked, testing my thirst for adventure. For a moment, I was almost crazy enough to refuse; but the delusion that I could stay out of this left me immediately. Besides, Astro would have never forgiven me for letting Tass's bloodline die out without a fight.
"Fine, lets make this quick. Try to keep the fighting to a minimal please I've just received a bloody hard blow to the head and I'm not my usual nimble self."
Walt grinned and put his arm , "Of course my friend. I'll be stealthy. Hold on!" And he lobbed the pearl at the same roof Prodigy had landed on. However, it fell short and smashed off the wall and we began to tumble to the ground. Thankfully our fall was cushioned by the fabric roof of a fish merchant's stall.
I sat up slowly and groggily, head spinning, not sure what to expect. I saw Prodigy jumped down into the entourage, holding a Perk in his left hand, a sword in the right. First he fired two shots at Overlord, who still hung over the Golem's shoulder. The shots missed and ricocheted off the Golem's metal skin. In an effort to protect its master the it fled past the pit of banishment. Then he drew held his sword aloft and began to fight like an animal. No method was beneath him. He slashed; he shot; he lashed out with his limbs; he crushed skull under his diamond boots; I'm pretty sure he even sunk his teeth into one of them. He fought valiantly but alas it was not enough. He was surrounded by the remaining six guards and one of the hooded figures. The other hooded figure, the shorter and stouter of the two, simply leaned back by the edge of the Pit and watched, seemingly amused.
The hooded figure amidst Prodigy's attacker was wearing a dark blue cloak and hood, underneath which was a black painted set of diamond armour in the Gaian fashion, but with dark twists. The tree chiselled onto the chest appeared burned and withered, and was painted in blood red. The shoulder-pads had strange, claw-like spikes coming from beneath them, like a demon were holding them in the palm of each hand. The same was true of the knee-pads and the elbow-guards. Their face was as invisible as Gogyst's, perhaps even more so.
It spoke with a cold, cutting, spine-chilling feminine voice that rasped on every "S" and rolled every "R", "Kill him, my servants." The attackers raised their swords high over their heads and got ready to end Prodigy. They would have there and then had Walt not shaken himself from stupor and struck a guard in the temple with an arrow. This distracted them from the execution long enough for Prodigy to break free
I reacted soon after, charging at them like a bull at a matador; firing my Perk wildly, striking a man thrice and knocking him flat on the cobbled street. Prodigy, acting on our distraction rushed at the shorter hooded figure. He pinned the figure to the wall of the pit, holding his head over the soul-sucking darkness of the Pit, whispers of remorse and madness coming from the punished somewhere in that endless darkness. Prodigy then threw back the dark blue hood of the man, revealing a shadowed face from which I couldn't make out any features.
Prodigy however, looked shocked; horrified even. In this moment of shock, the hooded woman pulled out a Perk and shot prodigy twice. Once to the neck, one to the leg. He crumpled onto the floor, gasping for air like a fish that had just been plucked from the sea, awaiting death shortly. The shorter figure then kicked him in the gut and ran off, noticing the large number of Void's men who had come from nowhere. The others followed him shortly. Walt and I ran over to the fallen Prodigy, kneeling over him.
"I'll get a medic." Panted Walt.
"You do that." I replied, dazed, lost for words. I had failed Astro, Tass's line had ended. I could not feel more guilty. "I'm sorry." I said weakly, choking back tears of rage and grief. "I-I w-will end them... I will a-avenge you!"
Then Prodigy spoke gravely, fading in and out as he choked on his own blood. "Weep not... King of men... friend... More to this... There is more to th-this than you think..."
"What Prodigy? What more is there?" I asked, most disturbed by this sudden serious talk from him. I had never heard him speak like this before.
"No time... Warn... he will... deceived... he will be deceived..." Then his voice trailed off. He coughed up some more blood. Then his eyes glazed over, and shut for the last time. [i"]Funny,"
Day 24: Ultimatum
The fact that they were so key to my revolution made them all the more insulting. Without them I never would have been able to take up the mask, and begin this glorious revolt of the working class against the bourgeois, and the autocracy of Void and Qustom. Soon, Fedwin would have completed his job. Fedwin, he'd always been a good friend to me, and was of exceptional usefulness. I almost felt bad keeping him in chains while he worked, and of his poor treatment. He had all that he needed to finish the job. The show would happen in just a week. Today was the opening act. Disposing of the waste.
The great steel doors swung open in front of me, squeaking as they did so. I shielded my eyes from the sudden burst of light from the studio. We had to keep it well lit for my public messages, which we did every 24 hours now. We figured it was a good way of asserting our dominance over the server. Doing something that only Void could previously do.
I walked over to the usual set. A throne of quartz in a black, well lit throne room with a floor covered in red wool. Strangely absent was my Golem, Antioch. He was always positioned there. I had always thought it was rather, unbecoming for him to always be positioned there. The last of his kind, made into a set-piece at best, a cheap mascot at worst. Then I noticed it.
"Where in Jeb's name are the camera crew? I thought we were disposing of the prisoners today?" Came my rumbling voice.
"Sorry boss, we thought you'd been told. They are filming by the waterfall today. The Fat Bloke just came and told us." Said a young guard called Nathan; rather meekly if I might add.
"Well they haven't told me!" I angrily replied, gripping him by his shirt and holding the gauntlet up to his face. "I don't like not being told things, and then have idiots like you tell what I'm supposed to know!"
"I'm s-sorry sir. I won't s-show such disrespect again." He stammered, cringing at the sight of the gauntlet that had slain so many. Then I threw him to the floor, causing him to slide across the polished metal floor. He turned and began to crawl away. "T-thank you master... F-for being mercifu-" He
A walk of 10 minutes up into the mountains brought me to the waterfall. It was a warehouse like room, cut off halfway through by a jutting piece of rock, opening onto a heavy waterfall. By the waterfall were four mods; all bound and gagged, with a total of six armed guards in diamond kit around them. By the camera was the Fat One, who insisted that I called him "Williams". I had no idea who he was, or what he really wanted, but despite all he and his colleague had done for me, I would end them as soon as possible. I despised them, with his all-seeing eyes, and cold calculating mind; and her ruthless anger, and maniacal tendencies. All the more worrying was the fact that she was just as cold and calculating as Williams. She was called "Falcon".
Falcon, was standing in the corner, glaring at me from beneath her hood. " she's creepy..." I thought to myself. Beside the prisoners was Antioch, looking most indignant. He had not had a good time as of late, he hadn't been in what he viewed as a proper battle in over a week, since we hunted down and slaughtered what remained of the Azure Tribe. Since then he'd mostly been in these daily updates. His indignation was all the more because of the slaughter a few days ago.
He and Falcon had been guarding a convoy that was en route to the red Frontline. Nothing special was in it; just a bit of weaponry, armour and food, as well as about 250 new recruits. As they were passing through the Frontline city they were ambushed. However it was not the usual sort of ambush by the Brotherhood, Legion, The Void or Vangaard. The only way any survivors could describe it was "The Fires of the Nether broken loose in someone's bathroom". They had been gunned down in swathes by a party of 50 or so Gaian raiders (who had positioned themselves inside the various buildings surrounding the convoy) with what appeared to be long range Perks. Only 100 of our men made it out alive, and half of the supplies were lost. The only casualties the enemy sustained were a few legionnaires who showed up out of nowhere and tried to take advantage of the retreat. Antioch had been powerless to do anything but watch as his men were slaughtered. Robot though he was, he had a way of letting emotions get the better of him.
I walked over to the camera crew, shot Williams a glare and inquired. "As we rehearsed?"
"A few new lines," He responded in his usual sour fashion. "Mostly to do with the mods but also about our ultimatum. Best look over it quickly."
He tossed me a copy of the script and walked over beside Falcon. A few minutes of script reading later I walked in front of the moderators. There was the traditional countdown from 5 and then we began, spreading our message across the whole server.
"Good evening my subjects." I began, as calmly, as I could, changing from malice to kindness as I went along. "You may have noticed that since the battle for the Forum a few of your Beloved Moderators have gone missing. Void hasn't addressed this issue I am sure. Why? Because it would damage the image he portrays to you. Of HIS invincible crew of bodyguards!
"I say to you today my people. These are far from invincible; and they should not be Void's personal playthings. NO! They are meant to be your protectors, who defend us from black magic and mushroom trolls. However, because Void uses them as tools, that does not mean they are any less guilty themselves. They themselves are lazy, useless, and corrupt! They embody everything that is wrong with this system!
"I have held them hostage out of good will up until now. However, a few days ago, about 150 innocent men and 50 soldiers, were murdered ruthlessly. Simple traders and farmers with no intention of joining the fighting, simply of being allowed to move safely through the frontlines and set up their new home under the protection of our troops.
"They were gunned down mercilessly by those we thought to be pure in all of this. The Gaians, the new power, who we once thought to be simply misled by Void in their early days; tempted by his lies. Now we know their true face. They and their King, this Kay Mandy, betray their own cause by defending the Brotherhood, those who they fought for so long.
"In retribution, three of these men will die." I gestured to the captive moderators kneeling beside me. "The moderators in question are as follows; Ludio; Celtic; Splorer; and Onyx. They are lined up in that order. I figured I'd play a little game to decide who shall live."
I flicked my wrist, causing the Perk to spring into my palm. "In my hand I have a Brotherhood invention, a Baby Jesus Perk. I believe it is only fair that the corrupt be slain by the product of those who corrupted them. There are four bullets in a Perk that can be fired without reloading. Three of these are loaded, one is blank. After being shot they will be thrown out into the waterfall behind me, to make sure they are dead. The remaining one will be held as insurance until you do as I ask Void.
"But, that's a topic for later. Now, for their reckoning. First up, LUDIO!"
I walked up to the old ship master, the canal builder. In the weeks of his captivity he had grown an uneven beard, and his long grey hair was matted with filth. His white prison shirt was completely caked with blood, vomit, dirt, and just about everything else you find in a prison cell. He looked up at me with those once warm, brown eyes; now turned broken and bloodshot.
"May Notch have mercy on your soul." I whispered. There was a bang, and he crumpled in a heap, before being grabbed by Antioch, and thrown into the waterfall. "Now, Celtic. You've been a very naughty boy haven't you. Was it not you who felled the gates of the Realm that day and allowed the Brotherhood access that day?" This was utter rubbish but it was best to throw some uncertainty about heroes such as him before killing them. He remained silent, giving me a confused, disbelieving kind of look.
"Not talking eh? Well then, may you find peace among Herobrine's legions of the damned." I squeezed the trigger and prepared to see him crumple. However he moved at the last moment; and dodged to the left. He then broke free from his bonds and brandished the tiny piece of flint he had used to cut loose, and the bloody welts on his palms. Taking advantage of my dismay he boxed me on the ear, knocking me to the floor.
Celtic then proceeded to stab a guard in the throat and throw another to the uneven floor of the waterfall's mouth. He was about to finish him off when my bullet pierced his throat. He rolled off the guard, and then, seeing the other guards closing in, he rolled into the waterfall, never to be seen again.
"A noble death ladies and gentlemen. However, removing himself from this earth, as honourable a feat as it is, will do little to help his judgement in the next life. Now, Splorer. I've nothing much on you. You don't appear to have done anything really bad... hm... Ah well I'm sure you're a douche bag anyway! Bang-bang time!" And with an actual bang Splorer crumpled like Ludio, to have Antioch throw his corpse into the waterfall. He appeared to be making up for losing the Celtic throw, for Splorer went through the waterfall and landed in the ground on the other side of the lake at the bottom.
"I guess that makes Onyx our lucky survivor viewers!" I pretended to clap and a fake applause sound came on. "Now, for my demands. As the traitor Legend told you I may be involved in the effort to destroy the gate. That, is entirely correct. Dominus is a personal friend of mine and he will be returning soon after the wall has fallen, with some very powerful friends. Right now he appeals to the True Court for aid from the other Crafts. Anyway, my demands are, that Void surrender the Brotherhood, Atreidon, the remaining Moderators and himself. Also, optionally, my old friend Gbaman; the ex-mods Gogyst and Super Iain; the man who betrayed the Realm for the Brotherhood, Bebe Man; and if you can find her, the ex-mod Amaerin. Otherwise, I will first of all destroy the gate using the weapons of Onyx and his now deceased companions. We'll give you an image of the device now."
A short, chubby man with a beard holding paintings of the weapon ran, panting in front of the camera and held up the paintings, alternating them every few seconds. "The Moderators, Gba and Woobly should know what this is. Also those parasitical little children who dare call themselves soldiers who broke into my vault beneath R7K's citadel three weeks ago should know what I'm talking about as well. Secondly, Onyx and the other prisoners will be executed live for everyone to see. Now, goodnight."
"We are clear!" Came the cry of Fabio, the cameraman, following me as I walked back towards my chambers. "Excellent work Ovey! Next time though, try to keep your posture straight. You looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame."
I shot him a cold look, and he ceased attempting to make eye contact. "And that is why I keep you chained to that peg Fabio." At this point the chain reached its maximum length and he tripped, collapsing to the floor.
"Oh, yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Can you please at least loosen the chain? Its really starting to hurt my leg. Are you even listening Ovey? Ovey? Dammit Ovey liste-" At which point the doors slammed on him, cutting off the rest of his whines. I then dismissed my guard and walked into the elevator alone. Or at least, I thought I was alone.
I turned and there she was, Falcon. She spoke with her almost reptilian voice, sending chills up my spine. "Excellent work my Overlord... My friend... My Starletts…”
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Here's some noteworthy feedback so far:
[quote="Astro_Joe"]You're good
-Astro_joe
[quote="Synthenos"] You're pretty good
-Synthenos
[quote="Farteh16"] You're good.
-Farteh16
[quote="Cossack263"] Such... horrible... impressions... my ears bled... You're good.
-Cossack263
[quote="Gogyst"] Kmandy, I got dem gangstaz to tranzizzle your text, gotta check it out.
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You're good btw
-Gogyst
Chapter 2: A storm of Superlative proportions
Day 31:
It had been a week since the Ultimatum was delivered, Overlord would attack tonight in an attempt to end this war once and for all. The wall would be destroyed in two days. In response to this dastardly plan Void had devised a desperate counter-attack. It was desperate indeed, especially as Void himself had been called to the True Court, to attend the annual summit, he had only left in the hope that he could either end the feud with Dominus or gather a force to match him. In his place, Ryan was in charge, organising all that he could. Void's last command before heading out was to open the "Omega Initiative".
The Omega initiative was the last resort of the Vanilla Craft. It involved us retreating to some form of safe-house, rumoured to be the Craft's original home, in the Old Continent. Around 500 years ago the Golden Revolution of the Pigmen, Humans and Testificates against the True Court had taken place. They had lost miserably. The Pigmen, leaders of the revolt were banished to the Nether. The Testificates had been robbed of the knowledge they once cherished so greatly; cursed to roam the world as idiots, only knowing how to create their Golems to defend themselves by instinct. The humans, were shown mercy due to Herobrine's endless appeals to Notch. However, Herobrine's people, the Thaumic people, had led the human conspiracy against Notch, and in return were turned into barbarous beings and scattered to the mountains. Notch proceeded to eliminate the leaders of the previously rebellious Crafts, and many of those who had opposed him on other matters. Because of this Qustom had proceeded to leave for the new continent, as did many others.
A new city was established and the Craft continued to prosper. This was until Zerg's rebellion around 100 years ago. The entire Craft was destroyed, and Qustom was slain. Void then banished Zerg into a prison of fire and brimstone and proceeded to move on, and established our current home; holding a much looser grip on the Craft this time. He spent much of his time up until now writing down his story, and continuing his research into the Old Magics.
The Initiative finally offered an opportunity to finally regroup with British, Gracey and Petergam on the way to the ruins, allowing ourselves to further reap the rewards of their research. "After I sent them out those long years ago..." I thought mournfully to myself. I quickly snapped myself out of my sudden sadness. "Both you and they knew that it was risky business going out into the Wastelands! They went not because of some devotion to you, or the cause, but because they knew, and so did you, that they could do it! And they have! Rejoice damn you! REJOICE!"
However tempting the opportunity to get more rifles (and more advanced weapons) was, the Gaians would be stretched to their limits. A journey like this would surely kill many of us off. Especially if I took them off the beaten path into the Wastes.
It did not help that we had to finish off Overlord before leaving. Thanks to the discovery of a badly wounded, but just living Celtic by the Brotherhood, we had tracked Overlord to the city of Aegis. We knew he had captured and fortified Aegis prior to Celtic's testimony but were having trouble deciphering whether he was actually hiding in the city. Now we had developed an elaborate attack plan. The idea was to get into the base with a series of elite strike teams guided by Woobly, who had broken into the city back when it was under Brotherhood Ownership. They would then be able to sneak their way through while a massive assault drew most of the defending troops away. Once inside the strike teams would disable the turret, rescue the hostages, screw up Overlord's defences, open the gates, and finally join up to capture or kill Overlord and his fellow commanders.
This, whether the plan succeeded or not did not really matter to me. The first stage alone lifted a huge burden from our people. Tonight they would flee to the protection of the Court of Mojang. Void, Epsilon and many of my old allies were there. There they would be guarded; with Cossack and Abb leading them.
Too many people had been lost already. The Mining district had been forced to stop digging due to silverfish infestation, causing many to be reliant on benefits. Logging District were trapped to our borders due to a lack of trees within them, and incessant raiding parties on those going out. However, on occasion they were allowed out to go out and burn the trees surrounding enemy camps. Commerce was only able to trade with Arcation, and in increasingly limited amounts. Farming was being pillaged endlessly. Industry and Knowledge had redirected all of their efforts towards the Redstone bomb, and its part in the plan. The Order was suffering drastic losses in its ongoing war against insurgency, their morale damaged since the death of Dawz.
I walked into my room, waiting for me were four people. Leaning against the nearest post of my four-posting was Secret, fully equipped in Gaian armour, with the deceptively light diamond skin of his breastplate adorned with the many decorations of the general. The breastplate had once been the property of General Itzburg, or R.B. as he liked to be known. His all-seeing eyes never missed the picking of a pocket, the bulge of a hidden weapon, the twitch of a lie. There were rumours among the Order that he could see even the subtlest poison. Over his back was slung both his old green ranger's cloak, and his obsidian plated quiver; that would never be found empty for as long as Secret lived, and was given to him by Herobrine in the Great Onslaught. Clasped in his right hand was his great ebony longbow. His Gingery hair and beard glinted copper in the golden twilight; which pushed through the great windows, bleaching everything in its bright hue. His eyes brightened and filled with life at the sight of me, and a great grin spread across his face. At his side hung his chipped, ancient, broadsword, which may as well have been a knife due to its shortness. I had many a time urged him to forge a new one, or at least polish it beyond simply keeping it sharp. However, as he always said, "Its long enough to reach my enemies. When a lesser fighter manages to fell me due only to the length of his sword, with no other contributing factors like skill and or numbers; then, and only then, will it be necessary."
In his armchair in the corner of the room was Aaron, who held his mighty greatsword in his lap. The sword, despite the inlaid gold fading, and the lapis gems cracking and crumbled, and the many chips in the inwardly curved blade; still managed to strike fear into the heart of any foe who laid eyes upon it. His cool, electric blue eyes reflecting not only his calm, laid-back persona, but also his quick-thinking mind, which ceaselessly ran through every possible scenario. Some scenarios he thought of were potentially impossible, but he honestly didn't give two s! It could still be possible that a yak wearing a straight jacket and hipster glasses, with two bombs strapped two its chest and a spoon hanging from its nose could've ran into the Nether Hub, yelled "DEATH TO HUMANITY COMRADES!" and exploded, destroying myself, Tautochrone and Atreidon during our duel. His olive coloured skin glistened with the mild sweat from the heat of the day. His black hair poked out in damp tufts from beneath his skull cap. His armour was similar to that of Secret's and my own, lacking many of the decorations but still the same design.
Linx was wearing the same armour as Aaron, with the addition of a helmet. His narrow face smiling in a relieved fashion at the sight of me. He and Secret had evidently been arguing again. Tensions had been running high between them as of late. It had started the night after the Council had been announced during a small skirmish between Insert and about five other elite soldiers and twenty or so Order soldiers. Some sort of drunken feud had turned nasty, one of Insert's friend's had been struck a blow to the nose by a member of the Order in a bar in Walthampton. He had later returned with Insert and a few others.
They had then proceeded to rough up the man who had harmed Insert's friend when he was alone in the bathroom. Then a number of Order members who were present got involved, and eventually the entire population of the bar was in turmoil. Secret and Linx had both been summoned to intervene. It developed into a stand off where both backed their division, and the argument went beyond it. Linx, in his anger had accused Secret of boasting too greatly of his part in the Battle of The Nether Hub; remarking that he had no great kills to his name, and that he had simply preyed off of inexperienced mercenaries and the weaker Pigmen. Secret had in response accused Linx of being a cheaper, more cowardly knock-off of himself, and the Order of being a group of children with no real talent, tactics, or common sense. He'd gone as far as accusing Linx himself of being delusional; bringing up Linx's claims of Overlord having invisible spies within the city. Since then you could barely get the two "factions" to sit in the same room without a major feud breaking out. Aaron and I had been forced to play peacemaker between the two.
"So, shall we proceed to the war room my liege?" Asked Linx as pleasantly as possible, making to open the corresponding door, only to be shunted out of the way by Secret.
"Yes, shall we old friend?" Secret began, staring at me with false calm. I walked through the doors, rolling my eyes. As I momentarily glanced back, I saw the two staring daggers into each other before walking through individually.
"Can you guys stop it for five minutes. we need to stay focused for this operation! You're squabbling over a couple of idiots who decided to rough each other up in a bar. That's right, I'm calling you out over the real cause of the argument. I'm not going to say whether either side is right because Linx said you were cowardly in battle Secret, or because you called Linx incompetent and delusional! You Secret need to get you AND your troop's egos under control, as well as teaching them that they don't run the place. And Linx, watch your tongue and discipline your men better! Now kiss and make up!" Cried Aaron suddenly. There was a wild look of infuriation on his face that was most unlike him. There was a long pause as everyone stared at him in awkward silence.
"Is the kissing mandatory?" Inquired Linx uncomfortably. This earned him a slap from Aaron. Secret laughed cruelly and earned himself an equal loss of dignity.
"Just, shake hands and apologise..." Said Aaron coldly. The two obliged immediately. "Good, now lets meet with the others, shall we?" He asked, returning to his normal self. We stared at him as he turned away, walking towards the war room.
"Wow. Just... Wow!" Said Secret, and we all went after him.
Five minutes later we arrived at the iron doors of the War Room beneath the vault. On either side was an elite soldier. Each dressed in full enchanted diamond, with swords slung at their sides and rifles in their hands. We had tried to spread all 300 rifles evenly across the 1000 men covering our retreat. I personally thought arming all 10 palace guards with rifles was a pointless waste of resources but Secret, Cossack, Linx and Aaron all concurred that it was necessary to protect me properly, if only to keep up morale.
The doors slip open slowly, trundling as the pistons retracted into their crude fittings. We slowly walked in, black cloaks gliding behind us like waves of living shadow. Standing under the flickering light of the redstone lamp were the others. Bokane stood over the map; clasping his wand in his left hand, and leaning on the table with his right; at his side was his bag of tricks, Thaumaturge's robes hanging over him. Mini, was dressed in his clunky, dented, rusty iron armour; with his old mace at his side. Only a vague purple shimmer every here and there hinted that it was more than it seemed. I had insisted that he take a new set of armour, however he insisted that he must fight like his men in order to truly become their leader. Not with decadence and grace, but with brutality and crudeness. I admired his desire to truly stand with his men; experiencing the same hardships as they did.
Small stood in the corner, dressed in black painted diamond, clasping an enchanted hoe that had been altered to act as a weapon. Over his back were slung the two short-swords he had used since we arrived in this land. Walt was in unaltered diamond, bow slung over his back and broadsword in his scabbard. Key was standing in the corner, wearing ceremonial golden armour, clasping a diamond sword. He felt he must prove himself again, taking a tradition of the True Court and wearing gold throughout a battle; knowing that he would die sooner than any other or emerge a hero. ABB and Cossack were the only ones in civilian clothes, being the only ones among us who would leave for the True Court today. They were saying their goodbyes. At the head of the map table was a weary looking Rage Peanut, explaining the plan to Bokane, Small, Mini, Walt and Key. A moderator was supposed to be dispatched to every group before the operation began to explain the plan. However, due to the deaths of Yamada, Ludio and Splorer and the absence of Void and Epsilon; the six remaining mods (including the injured Celtic) had to attend every group on a tight schedule. Rage appeared most impatient as we walked in.
"Come on! I'm on a tight schedule!" Demanded Rage grumpily.
"Ah shut it Ragey! We get round to everything eventually. We Gaians aren't famed for our efficiency. If you want that you should have just forgotten about us and gone to Legion." I responded in a forced laziness.
"Perhaps I should have." He said scornfully, although I could tell he was at least mildly amused by my pointless antics. "Now, lets go through this plan one last time."
And so he went into the details of this stage of the plan. Of the Redstone bomb in the centre of the city, that would go off at midnight. Of how we were to escape before then. Of how we had to hold them off until midnight, and then get to Spawn by any means necessary (in our case on the flagship of the Gaian airship fleet, the "Celestial Potato"). He also mentioned briefly the next stage of the plan, of sneaking into Overlord's citadel and "decapitating his head" as a division of Noobian soldiers under Void's command had described it. However, Rage insisted that they were going to interrogate him beforehand.
"Is everyone clear with the plan?" Rage asked avidly, quite pleased with his inspirational run-down that everyone forgot within 30 minutes.
"YES!" Yelled Mini enthusiastically. "I'm gonna run straight into that fortress and decapitate his head myself as we throw redstone bombs at his fortress and crash airships into spawn!"
Rage promptly face-palmed, the slapping noise sounding similar to that of slapping someone with a fish. "Someone fill him in for me will you?"
Bokane responded. "Don't worry, I'll explain it to him, one way or another."
There was a rumbling noise, dust trickled down from the stone ceiling and the lights flickered out for a full 10 seconds before suddenly relighting themselves.
"Holy banana in a black-box!" Yelled Bokane, using his traditional obscenities. "What was that?!!"
"We're all sort of wondering Bokane." Responded Small. "Although, think about it, it what does our foe excell with?"
Bokane stared at him blankly before inquiring. "Stealing Fedwins?"
"Close, but not quite. Just think back to the Forum. What did he use so effectively then?" Prompted Small.
"Um..." Replied Bokane, straining himself under the sudden pressure. "Badass looking masks?!!"
Small smacked him, scowling. "Long range missiles you half-witted genius. You may be an amazing mage, and know redstone better than any of us but damn your brain is easily addled. Get your head in gear mate!"
"Okay..." Responded Bokane, doing breathing excercises. "Okay... focused! who are you?" He then asked Small.
Mini, who had been listening to the whole thing had had enough and tackled Bokane. As the two proceeded to brawl Rage looked at me and said, chuckling. "You're in for one hell of a long night."
3 hours later...
"RETREAT!" came the cry of Secret over the gunshots, the exploding shells, the sounds of clashing metal and the cries of the dieing, as he led the boar-riders back down the rubble-strewn street to our right, being followed by a hail of arrows. My men were watching as riders and infantry-men alike retreated towards the Celestial Potato, which was docked on the other side of the city. Secret turned from the crowd, coming into our small plaza, which was just holding out against the waves of enemies pressing against the barricade. I slit the throat of a man who was trying to climb a metal ladder over the barricade and proceeded to kick the ladder away from the wall. The man toppled from the ladder, spilling blood like red wine from a fallen glass, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. the ladder landed just to his right, crushing an eager comrade of his who had begun to climb the 3 metre ladder after him.
I turned to see Secret riding into the centre of the plaza alone, armour bloodied and chipped, looking defeated. I hopped down from the barricade and walked up to him. "We can't hold them off. We need to retreat now. They've shattered our ranks with the cannons and the elite troops'll be down here soon." Said Secret, panting with exhaustion.
"We can take some pathetic "elite troops". At the best of time they match the average order member. But usually they're just heavily kitted idiots with no fighting prowess. Why should we abandon our position now?" I enquired, angered by his defeatist attitude.
"Its her. The twisted Gaian, or, Falcon as her men call her. Her elite soldiers were slaughtering us. Each fights with the skill of Komplex. We could barely get near them; let alone kill them. The only casualties they sustained were a few minor bullet and arrow wounds. We're going to try and regroup with the others at the CP."
This was a new piece of information entirely. "Burn the barrier!" I cried. "Retreat while we still can!"
Within three minutes the barrier was ablaze and we were all running full-pelt towards the airship docks. The three civilian transport waves were long gone, all that was left was for us to give the redstone bomb time to go off. I checked my pocket watch; 10 minutes to midnight, more than enough time to get clear of the explosion. We had a straight run to the docks too. "This is too easy..." I thought to myself. That's when life decided to even the odds a little.
On my left there was a tall apartment block. Five stories high, massive glass windows all around, heavily ornamented, however not quite well-built. We were about to pass underneath when a missile struck it about half-way up, causing the building to topple into the street we ran through. it crashed just feet in front of me, spraying dust and debris in my face. I looked around me, about 30 of us left, most were in panic, trying to force their way through some narrow gaps in the rubble. Under normal circumstances they could probably have pulled this off, however, Falcon had just arrived in the plaza and was advancing towards us. Many tried to fire upon our foes, but it was futile. The bullets and arrows would either simply dent or bounce off the diamond shells of the attackers.
I rallied all who would listen and ran down a side street. My company was that of Mini, looking even more battered than earlier; Linx, who brandished a musket fiercely; and Tejmin, who looked defeated. Also with us were Mateo, Raging and three generic soldier-types. "This way!" I yelled as we turned the corner to the left, seeing the fire that was spreading through the street in front of us.
We ran into a fork in the road; both ways forward blocked by overturned wagons and the roads littered with the bodies of both our people, and Overlord's. The buildings on all sides were tall, more intact than others nearby. "Its almost like this was intentional..." I thought to myself suspiciously, however I dismissed it as simply a smaller, luckier defence that had been abandoned by our men when Secret had sent out the call to retreat. I noticed that the wagon we needed moved (the left one) had no way under or around and couldn't be budged with our current manpower and delivered my orders. "Mini, boost Mateo and Raging up, they in turn will lift the rest up. Now, Generic soldier number Uno..."
"Actually my name is Carl si-" He began in a high-pitched nasally voice, adjusting his thick glasses as he did so; but I cut across him, not really giving a .
"Well your name is now GSNU. Your friends are now GSND and GSNT." I said, gesturing to each soldier in turn. The other two looked at each other quizzically before redirecting their attention to me, knowing that time was of the essence.
"GSNU, you and Linx will cover our route with your rifles, shoot anything that isn't Gaian or a pig. Pigs are cute. I guess Gaians are too but not in the pig cute way. No there's a distin-"
"Kay," Said Mini, a sullen look on his face as he was lifted under the armpits onto the wagon. "Shut up, you're rambling again. I'm not putting up with that when we've got 5 minutes before they leave without us and 9 before this place explodes. Lets get on with it."
"Okay, those were your orders. Follow them." I said, striding up to the wagon, but before I could be lifted an armour-clad figure jumped down in front of me from a rooftop and boxed me on the ear.
I toppled to the side, landing on my knees. I heard two gunshots and whipped around. Mateo and Raging were toppling from the wagon, blood spilling from their heads. The three Generic soldiers and Linx were surrounding my assailant, who was brandishing a perk in one hand and a cutlass in the other. Mini was nowhere to be seen. I pulled myself to my feet, feeling warm blood running from the corner of my mouth, head ringing from the force of the blow. "Brass knuckles... why do they always use brass ING knuckles?!!" I thought as I drew Amicus and my dagger, apoteer (Thaumic for "Potato Peeler").
First GSNT ran at the attacker, to be cut down by my attacker's sword. GSND ran around the side of the mysterious assailant, hacking at his shins with his sword. In response his opponent brought his sword down on GSND's sword arm, cleaving the hand from the arm. Then he finished GSND by striking his unguarded temple, fracturing the bare skull. As GSND crumpled he heard the clicking of bullets loading in the other two's rifles. Linx fired first, his shot just missing the assailant's left ear as he veered to the right. GSNU then fired, but before he could do so the blade had flown from the assailants hand, striking him in the throat. As he spluttered and coughed up blood the assailant ran up behind him, withdrew his sword, and used him as a shield to block Linx's second shot. The assailant then fired at Linx, who dodged left but tripped and landed in some boxes.
As the assailant stood over him, readying to stab with the sword , I decided to act. I brought amicus down hard on his perk arm, not chopping off his hand, but leaving a bloody gash where his forearm meets his elbow, and forcing him to drop the perk. He staggered and I prepared to stab with my dagger. However, he recovered faster than I could have predicted and blocked the dagger with the flat of his sword. He then punched me in the gut with his free hand, winding me; proceeding to swing his sword at my head. He would have shattered my helmet and brained me had Linx not grabbed his arms at the last minute, grappling with him. The assailant then broke free of his grip and hit him with the pommel of his sword, knocking him to the ground in a daze.
Before I could respond the sword was knocked from my hand, skittering across the cobbled stone, and I myself was pinned against the wall, suffocating as an arm crushed my throat. As I fought for breath I got a good look at him for the first time. His face was wide and egg-shaped, with deathly pale skin. His eyes were red and blood-shot, his pupils soulless pits. His night-black hair was wild and unruly. He looked already like a corpse, but what sealed the deal were the many open wounds on his face. They littered his face, from simple cuts across his face to the great jagged gashes across his forehead and neck. They had stopped bleeding, but still seemed open, like gaping crevasses into an endless black abyss. He looked so alien but yet, I knew him.
"You're a C-Companion!" I stammered, lack of oxygen getting to me. At this he loosened his grip a little, allowing me to breath momentarily. "You were there when Tass died, you were on the bridge. I saw you fall into the crevice. Are you a ghost?"
"No," He breathed in an ominous tone, matching his husky voice. "I'm worse. I'm the Unknown Warrior. You left me for dead..."
"I thought you were, we thought everyone was." I spluttered as his grip tightened. "We couldn't exactly check, the way back was sealed. We had no choice about that either."
"Silence you fool. I do not want talk. I want the revenge promised to me by Falcon. She found me, on my last breath, she offered me a choice, serve her and gain revenge, or die there and then. Now she has delivered, after weeks of having me watch you, learning your techniques. Learning the routes you use. Now, goodbye." He boasted, dropping his sword and pulling out a small curved blade.
I struggled as he pressed further on my throat and slowly moving his blade towards my good eye. He would have gouged it out there and then had Mini not intervened. Out of nowhere he came, swinging his mace at the head of Unknown. As it caved in Unknown's skull, Unknown turned to dust, his armour flying in the direction of the blow. I stared at the panting Mini in awe. I quickly blinked myself back to my senses. I then said proudly to Mini. "Not bad for a first kill. You've been paying attention."
"Thanks." Panted Mini. "Lets go shall we, we've got three minutes."
And so we pulled Linx to his feet, got mini the trophy of Unknown's sword, hopped the wagon and ran. The buildings around us shattered as the shells came down. All around us Gaian stragglers and Golems clashed desperately with the attackers, hope of leaving fleeing from their eyes. Then, just as the time to leave passed, the pit that was the dock came into site. The great woollen balloons of the Celestial Potato rose from the pit like a Phoenix from ashes.
"We can still make it!" I yelled frantically. "Once we see the hull we're screwed!"
"Of course!" Cried Linx sarcastically. "How could I forget!"
We reached the edge of the dock and leapt, flying across the gap like Eagles, swooping down on their prey. Then came the inevitable rattling crashes of our armour on the polished wooden floor. We lay in a pile on the deck, groaning in pain. The troops around us stared in disbelief at our sudden, but rather feeble appearance. Mini broke the tension by spreading his arms and saying "Ta-da" in a pained voice, causing the men around us to burst into laughter. They came and helped to our feet as Secret approached, dressed in a naval officer's outfit that he had borrowed from Cossack, and clasping an old brass telescope in his left hand.
"Avast me hear-" Secret began in his best pirate impression but was cut across by Linx.
"Don't do it! If you do a bloody pirate impression I will ram that telescope up your ass Secret!" He shouted angrily.
Secret chuckled. "Sorry my friend. Lets watch the fireworks shall we, we're just out of range."
And so we turned to face Gaia's Kingdom. All that we had worked so hard to achieve was embodied in that city. The freeing of the Testificate slaves; the technological masterpieces; the movements for Noobian rights. All of it was about to disappear in one big puff of smoke.
"Who brought the popcorn?" I asked, entranced by the burning city, underneath its cloak of night. The Sea of black that made up Overlord's army surrounded it, thrashing like a caged animal. Then, there was a flash of white and I was blown back a few steps. Then my eyesight cleared, and I saw the mushroom spire of smoke, flecked with patches of bright orange. There was a crater stretching the entire breadth of the city, and fire had spread over a vast area around the city.
The men started to applaud our success. "How narrow-sighted they are." I thought, starting to clap politely. "They celebrate victory at the destruction of their homes. But what is more tragic, the fact that their homes are destroyed? Or is it their blissful ignorance of it? Perhaps it would be better if they were saddened..." I looked around, no other man seemed to experience my grief. I felt a tear run down my face, as I smiled hollowly for my men.
And now we return to the traditional parts format.
Part 2: A Fine Plan
He sat with his feet on the table; with a small piece of wheat in his mouth, chewing it occasionally. His body language was lax and his eyes exuded calm. He was by far the most disconcerting of everyone at the table. In their time in the Craft Woobly had gathered more intelligence, more strategy, and more dirty secrets than any other group on the server. They were the model of the Order and the envy of the Brotherhood. Scrumping knew everything about us and just how to use it against us. He (whilst very polite) was truly terrifying.
I may as well address just who was there from Scrumping clockwise. First there was Wolves Glare, who whilst making pleasant conversation with Scrumping, was nervously eyeing the Arcation and Brotherhood leaders, occasionally shooting glances at me. Then there was Ryan, who looked quite disturbed by the whole situation. He had never much been a fighter; that was Epsilon and Viking's job. He would have happily let Viking run this through, but Viking had been called to meet with the main force near Aegis to sort out some disorder.
Then there was Piethingey, looking much out of his depth. He was at most used to speaking to me, Walt or Key, here he was stuck in a room with the fat-cats, and he felt like a mouse. Then there was Key, who sported many scars from the battle of 8 hours earlier. From him there was Gogyst, who was staring daggers into Tauto, who really didn't seem to care.
After Gogyst came Boston, of Concordis. Then, there was Ozzy, leader of the newly founded Elite. The day after Overlord delivered his ultimatum, the Golem and Falcon went to La Selva. The battle had been fought hard and Falcon had sustained heavy casualties, but inevitably La Selva had been defeated, the entire forest burnt to the ground, and the people slaughtered. Ozzy and much of La Selva's elite security task force had been drawn away from their city during a distraction raid. When they had returned they found nothing but ashes. The group "Elite" had been formed in order to avenge La Selva, by killing Falcon via any means necessary.
Then came Viral, representative for Calais since Starletts was M.I.A. from the battle of the Forum, assumed to be held hostage with the Moderators and other captives. Next there was myself, looking devilishly handsome if I must say. Then Walt, of Waltco, who had travelled with us on the Celestial Potato, Walthampton having been destroyed by the same bomb we used. Then there was General Ruary the 2nd of Legion. For a second we made eye contact but then both looked away, both seeing something unsettling in the other. Ruary disturbed by the raids I had conducted after the Requiem Conspiracy fell apart. I, frightened by what I had become during those raids, a simple murderer. For a brief moment, I had been no better than the Brotherhood, those I professed to hate for that very reason. Yet we both saw something of ourselves in the other, similar stories (both reviving once great peoples who had fallen from grace), similar backgrounds (both of us had served in the Great Onslaught).
Then, there was Tauto Chrone. His bronzed skin and jet black hair glistening with sweat from the humid bunker. He was dressed in full Brotherhood armour, minus his glove. Across his bronzed face were the basic war paints of the Brotherhood, simple blue and red lines across the cheekbones. Once he was about to go into battle he would paint the rest of the face black. This symbolised Tubby's goal when he had arrived here, to overcome to Blue and Red factions, releasing the Barbarians into the lands, spreading chaos. Then there was Steal, but he had nothing noteworthy to be said about him that had not been said in another part so we'll act like he's not here unless he said something.
Ryan did a 5 minute-long register, confirming exactly what I just did in my head in 15 seconds. "God he loves procedure." I thought to myself in a bored manner. "I mean, he's a nice guy but he isn't cut out for this sort of stuff. Where's Viking or Epsilon, or even Yamada when you need them?
Then he spoke. "Hello my friends. I'm sorry that took so long. Old (bureaucratic) habits die hard I guess." He laughed nervously. A few people smiled politely but many continued to stare drolly at him. "So anyway, the plan. We will have 3 teams of 10. 3 man squads from 3 groups, and a Woobly guide for each. The first team will consist of Arcation, Vangaard, and Blue Alliance. Guided by... some Hobo named Chris. They will go to open the main gate to Aegis for our forces." There was a series of appreciative nods, glances, and even a few handshakes. "Now, team two. You will for the first part of the mission be travelling with team 3. Your job will be to go with Team 3 to free the hostages. You will then diverge from the group and lead the hostages out safely. You will consist of GoC, Elite, and Waltco, and will be guided by Scrumping Pup." This group choice was slightly less agreeable but still went down pretty well. "Now, the final group will head onwards from the prison to find and disarm the weapon. The weapon in question, is small but highly dangerous long-range artillery piece. There are only four shots in it, each with a mod staff powering it. Each shot will only explode at a specific distance. The four shots together will reduce the Great Gate to an obnoxious pile of rubble. The Team who will perform this crucial Task are, The Kingdom of Gaia..." I allowed myself a proud smirk. "Legion..." I felt my smile fade slightly at the thought of being near people I had wronged so dearly. "And... Le sigh... The Brotherhood. Guided by Kofi" At this there was outcry.
Tauto, Ruary and I were all on our feet complaining to Ryan as he walked out the door. We followed him down the corridor to the lift and let loose as he waited.
"What are you smoking?" Cried Tauto.
"Much agreed Tauto." I added.
"Why are you putting me on a dangerous job with these two madmen?!!" Asked Ruary frantically.
"This man is a criminal, a thief, a griefer, a simple terrorist." Said Tauto, gesturing to me.
"He, is a despicable excuse for a human being who attempted to conquer half the server. He cannot be trusted to fulfil this task." I retorted angrily.
"They're both insane!!" Shouted Ruary.
"This man is a wuss!" Remarked Tauto, gesturing to Ruary.
"Hey, you're the ones who pillaged my cities." Responded Ruary in anger.
"You make me feel bad about myself." I said sadly, pointing at Ruary.
There was an awkward pause. "Retards..." Grunted Tauto, crossing his arms, looking away from us.
"Wanna say that to my face weather-boy." I spat venomously.
"I could take you any day of the year you festering piece of Thaumic filth. Its about time someone did the Inquisition's job for them."
Boiling rage filled my body like molten rock beneath the crust. I lashed out, striking him on the jaw, felling him. I had chosen the wrong moment. The elevator opened, revealing Komplex, Ubi, Bottany, Dark Eagle, Beat and Jolly who all entered, weapon clad and ready for action. However, at the same time Insert, Aaron, Linx, Secret, Mini, Bokane, Walt and Key had just entered from the other elevator, also belaboured with weapons. Within seconds weapons were drawn and the two groups were ready to clash, shouting war-cries. Then, just as the first blades clanged, Ryan snapped.
"SILENCE ALL OF YOU!" He cried, voice becoming strangely deep, raising his staff in their direction of the crowd, lifting us all from our feet and slamming us into the walls, suspending us in the air, pinned against the wall by intangible and invisible forces. Ryan vanished in a puff of purple smoke, before three of him appeared simultaneously in front of me, Tauto and Ruary.
"You are grouped together because Void, Epsilon and I thought you could triumph together. That is the only reason I will give and the only one I should need. As for the Gaians and Brotherhood, you are not to fight until this is over. Do I make myself clear." Everyone nodded, plainly terrified. "Good. I release you." Ryan disappeared again, re-materialising in the still open elevator. "Goodnight everybody. Get some shut-eye before the attack tomorrow." He said cheerfully as the doors closed in front of him.
"Crazy that one is." Remarked Komplex, indignant at having been so easily immobilised.
"I know." I said in a bemused tone, staring at the closed door. "That's why I like him."
Part 3: The Reckoning of Overlord
We stumbled through the bodies and ashes of the fallen guards towards the throng in the centre. Gun-smoke hung thick in the musty air, causing many to cough uncontrollably. There were 19 of us still standing, with Team 3 scattered across the old salt mine, searching for additional hostages, surviving guards, and setting up our diversion.
It had been a swift battle, even though they outnumbered us four to one. Bokane had given us some strange balls of black fire, plucked straight from Astro's notes. Once tossed the balls would explode on contact, having a blast radius of at least 2 metres. We'd tossed them into the groups of guards scattered throughout the room, avoiding the hostages as much as possible. We struck down the survivors as efficiently as possible with bows, perks, rocks and our one rifle.
It was by all means a clean victory. We'd killed all of the guards with no real opposition, only one hostage was harmed (and in a small way at that), and we'd only sustained one casualty (and while that was a death, he'd reform within 8 hours anyway). However, the deaths of the guards had somehow been, unceremonious, to say the least. One minute they were there, forcing men to mine that bitterest of seasoning, next they were burning and screaming horrifically. I knew I should have gotten used to this aspect of warfare by now. Just killing without remorse. I wasn't in His army any more; you would have thought that after ten years I'd have gotten used to that.
As we walked towards the crowd of (recently liberated) hostages being organised for roll call before team 3 left, we noticed that there was some sort of commotion. Some old, dirty looking, bearded figure was struggling with Insert to get away from the crowd. "You have to listen to me you lumbering oaf! I have information that'll save all of your lives! Who is your commanding officer! Answer me damn you!"
"Calm it old man you've just been through a lot in these past few weeks. Just si-" Began Insert
"OLD MAN?!! I'm 31 you cocky little ! Out of my way and tell me who your commanding officer is!" He yelled, shunting Insert out of his path.
Insert prepared to batter him with his shield as I interjected. "Not now Insert. Hello my dirty-looking acquaintance, I'm Insert's . What do you need?"
Insert went and moped in the corner, muttering something about "Never getting to brutalise random bystanders."
"I'm no dirty looking acquaintance!" cried the dirty man. "I'm Ray Tunes!"
I was so shocked that I couldn't even stop my jaw hanging open. "B-but, you're dead..." I responded stupidly. I could deny it all I wanted, but beyond the grime and thick beard it most certainly was Ray.
"I know I'm supposed to be but I can explain. Some ass-holes mugged me after the Realm was sacked. These were Williams, Falcon, and the mastermind, Overlord, my old mate Starletts. They then stripped me down and gave my clothes to some bloke who looked similar to me. Since then I've been trapped in here, gathering as much information as I could, knowing that I could use it to escape or help the rescue effort."
"Hang on a second..." I responded even stupider still. "Starletts is Overlord?"
"Yes." Ray responded quizzically. "I find it amazing that no one has figured it out yet, especially someone who has found out as much as you in the last few weeks.
"Okay then." Said Tauto, who looked smug as he appeared by my side, making me jump. He looked strange without his old war mask, which was basically his face with full face paints made of metal. I wondered where it was for a moment, then remembered it was now hanging proudly in the captain's quarters aboard the Celestial Potato. "Tell us what you know Ray. Before we send you back with the others. We're down a man and only know what Kofi's had us memorise and we need anything you know."
"Well, I know that the route I assume you're going to take, straight into the hanger where they have been shooting both people and daily updates, all entrances into which is heavily guarded and locked. I can confirm that the weapon is in there, but your intended route is very flawed. First you need to go to the security room, something Woobly greatly overlooked in their recent visits." He noticed my own and Tauto's gob-smacked expressions at the superiority of his intelligence to ours. "What? I was given a tour of the base by Starletts and his entourage in an attempt to convince me to join them. I have a photographic memory. Plus, when you know the Woobs like I do it really isn't that hard to know when they're around and when they're not. Anyway we need to go there and open the hanger doors if you're serious about disarming that thing. Although I do have an alternative you probably are unaware of."
"One thing." Tauto inquired, acting on my own confusion as much as his own. "Why do you refer to it as the "hanger"?"
"Because it used to be a secret airship hanger. As a result there is a blast door type device that is directly controlled from the security room. There is no way of opening it once the security command is put in. Heck, you could lock down the entire castle from there. But, anyway, "Starlord" as I've come to call him, will be unable to fire his artillery piece as long as that door is shut."
"Well what are we waiting for? Lets go!" Began Ruary, who had appeared behind us, taking us both off guard.
"Apparently for them to leave." Said Ray, nodding towards Team 2 and the former hostages.
"Hey Viral, Walt, Ozzy and Scrump." They paused and looked to me as I called to them. "We're gonna go kick Starletts' ass. Btw, did any of you know he was Overlord?"
Everyone gasped, and then wished us luck and team 3 set out. Our number was 10 counting Ray. From the Gaians, there were myself, Aaron, and Insert. Insert was our finest fighter, only matched by Secret and Aaron. He fought with grace and dexterity that was unheard of from the Hoplites of the East. He had a fierce rivalry with Vacar and Shadows, with whom he frequently duelled. This short weedy Asian man of 21 years had deceived and kicked the out of innumerable people who had questioned his ability. He, like many of the Gaians was both an ex-fugitive and officer from the Great Onslaught. And, unlike almost all of the others, he had fought on the side of the Endlings and Thaumic peoples. However, despite our political differences we got on well. He was a great listener when he wanted to be, despite a huge ego in public, and a wise consul; whom I frequently consulted.
Of the Brotherhood there was Tauto Chrone's Brother St. Jay of the church of the Try Hard Pants, otherwise known as Jolly, or "Jolly Saint Jay". Also there were Tauto Chrone himself and Ubi. Of Legion were General Ruary, his ex-commander, Lieutenant Palmer and Broken Appliance. We would have been a solid team, if it weren't for our histories.
I believe I've commented enough on the Brotherhood-Gaian conflict but I haven't yet fully explained the Legion problem. The night of the Requiem conspiracy everything had fallen apart. Gerrit had been arrested and FCC exiled and everyone else panicked and bailed. I was waiting outside Brotherhood HQ with 15 men or so for eight hours in the rain. My men's morale was low, we had no hope of confronting the Brotherhood with our current force. We had to find somewhere to go. We stumbled for 8 more hours and we arrived at Legion. We craved for battle, and food. So we attacked. The raid was brutal, 30 Legionnaires were dead by the end. Fires had broken out all over the city; crops were trampled and burned; civilians lay dead in the dirt with their slaughtered livestock. It was by far the most tragic raid to ever occur in Legion.
In the middle of the attack, I, overcome by my own anger at the tragedies of the last few days, ran into the housing estates. I kicked down the door of the first house I came to and slaughtered the three men inside. The house caught fire during the slaughter and as I was about to slay the last of them, I saw it. I saw in the fiery silhouette reflected in his eyes, that I had gone too far. I was just as bad as those who had wronged me those long years ago. I lost my nerve and ran, taking my men with me. Insert, who had been present, had never let me live it down.
But anyway, back to what's happening in the Aegis castle. We ran past a window facing the Scaen gates of Aegis, seeing the explosions going off across the cityscape and fights going off across the walls. Great siege towers made of wood and iron, sometimes even obsidian constantly advanced towards the walls, arrows and rifles raining hell on the defenders from the platforms on top. Every here and there one of the towers would be struck by a shell from one of the cannons along the wall and topple to the ground in flames.
Then, without warning there was a bright white flash from the centre of the gates. Even from the massive distance we were at we were forced to take a few steps back due to the sheer force of the explosion. I blinked away the spots to see the gates beginning to crumble. I remembered my brief time living here while the Winged Federation was ruling the Barbarian zones. I had always thought that those gates would never fall, even at the hands of Notch himself. I was always incredulous at the very idea that someone could have infiltrated such an impenetrable city. Much less the laid back goof-balls that made up Woobly. Now, here the gate was, a pile of dust before my eyes, with our men flooding in to confront Overlord's army.
We took a moment to enjoy the view, Ruary honouring the sight with a ceremonial salute. The moment of calm however, was broken by a cry of, "Who the hell are you?" from an "honour guard" who had just shown up. He was not alone either, there were five other members of Overlord's Honour Guard, all armed with iron armour, clasping spear's who's points shimmered with magical energy. That was not all, they were accompanied by two of Falcon's personal "Storm troopers" as they were referred to as in the daily addresses. Both were dressed in the finest diamond, holding massive double-bladed axes. To top it all off there was a Golem. Not Antioch, but developed from him. It was of inferior quality and intelligence to Antioch, but it was still a force to be reckoned with.
I gestured to Aaron to run around the back and deal with the hack through the Golem's legs, and for Insert to deal with the Storm Trooper on the right. I was to draw the attention of the rest. However, as we commenced our plan, The Brotherhood commenced there's, as did the Legionnaires and Ray sort of commenced his own plan. The brotherhood plan was for Tauto to rush the Storm Trooper on the left; Jolly was to confront the Golem; and Ubi was to do much the same as I was. Legion locked their great, zigzagging shields into a straight line and marched towards the crowd, swords poking through the gaps in between. As they got nearer their line was to slowly began curving, hopefully trapping and killing the guards as they got nearer. Ray ran up to the Golem and threw a rock at it, which promptly bounced of and hit him in the head, causing him to stumble aimlessly through the battlefield in a cartoon-like manner.
I, seeing what the Legionnaires were trying to do ran around the right side and began pushing them back towards the lines of the Legionnaires, as did Ubi from the left. I rushed into their lines, cutting down the first man I saw, causing them to back up slightly. However, they slowly began to advance and as I lashed out to block the incoming blows I was forced to give ground. Ubi, seeing my need, unhooked his chakrams and rushed to my aid, swinging the deadly ring wildly at the attackers. Slowly but surely, like shepherds herding sheep, we forced them back towards the lines of the Legionnaires, where they were promptly cut down.
I looked behind me, Tauto and Insert were using a similar tactic to myself and Ubi, herding them together before felling them like trees. The Golem fight however, was truly something to behold.
Aaron rushed at the Golem, ducking under its great square fist as it swung at him. Aaron then swung his sword at the Golem's left leg, cleaving open the metal shell, forcing it down to its knees. The soulless black eyes of the Golem would have been writhing in pain were this any other creature. Aaron began to swing his mighty blade at the Golem's neck, but before he could cut down the creature, he was struck in the side by a great iron fist, knocking him to the floor. He lay in a daze and looked up to see the Golem hunched over him, preparing to crush his skull with one fell swoop. However, before any of us could act, the Golem made a sound similar to that of a crying in pain. A fiery rope had formed around its neck and was cutting deeply into it as its holder pulled it backwards. It was Jolly.
He had lashed out with his whip of flames and caught the Golem around the neck, pulling it back from its pray; struggling and lashing out at its prey like a dog on a leash, forbidden to sniff/lick what it was so enthralled with a moment before due to its owner's tight schedule. Then, as an oak falls in the forest at the hands of a lumberjack, so did the Golem. Jolly pulled his whip back and struck the Golem, leaving a gash across the face. He struck the golem again and again until suddenly, as Jolly was to deliver the final blow, the Golem grabbed the rope. Its square fist shot into the sky and held it with a vice-like grip.
Jolly was pulled in as he struggled to free his whip from the fingers of the great creature. Before St. Jay knew what was happening, he was on his front, just before the wounded beast. The great iron fist rose in the air above Jolly, who was too petrified to even blink. The fist stopped mere inches above Jolly's head. The Golem had stopped moving entirely, a blade protruding from the Golem's chest.
Aaron retracted his sword and the Golem fell safely to the side, still locked in its position, like a statue. "That was tense." He panted, grinning as he wiped sweat from his bruised brow. "You know Jolly. We should do this more often. Saving your ass is great exercise."
Jolly laughed and retorted. "Yeah, I guess you're not totally worthless for a piece of Gaian scum." Normally we would have taken this as an insult or mockery. However, there was little of the usual Brotherhood Gaian malice.
"Come on people, we did well but we have to move." Shouted Ray needlessly loudly at the wall. "That weapon is going to go off in 20 minutes!" I wondered how he knew what time we had left. No one had told him from the team and the Woobs had gone through hell and back to get the exact launch time.
"Um... Ray." Said Ruary uncomfortably. "That's a wall."
"Oh," replied Ray, clearly embarrassed. "So I am." He turned to face us and blinked a little bit. "Ah-ha! Much better! That a'way!"
And so we ran through the empty corridors of the fortress, the sounds of battle growing ever closer. At last we arrived at the great oak doors to the security room. We prepared for the worst and kicked open the doors, weapons ready. However, we were great by an empty, dark room.
It was a large dining hall. I remembered it from my time here only by the great dining table and high ceiling. Everything else was indistinguishable. Where there were once paintings, along the walls on the left and right there were 16 great silhouettes of metal compartments just as big as a Golem. Once the ceiling had been adorned with artwork and a great skylight. Now, there were metal walkways and the sklight was cracked, illuminating the length of the table with a fractured path of moonlight. At the far end there was a spinning armchair with its back facing us. At the end of the room there was a panel of weird flashing lights and similar "monitors" to those that we found in the vault. To the right was a strange cylindrical chamber made of metal.
Ray ran up to the panel, hardly able to contain himself. The rest of us followed him warily. I found Ray's reaction odd, like a child having trouble to get to the punchline of a joke because they found it so funny. Just as Ray pressed the first button the doors slammed shut. Broken ran and tried to pull them open but found them to be locked.
"Okay Ray, fun's over. What's going on?" Demanded Palmer, brandishing a perk.
"Seriously?" Inquired Tauto indignantly. "Have we set up some sort of flipping trend? When did everyone get perks?!!"
"Aw... But Palmer..." Said Ray mockingly, acting like a small child complaining about being called inside to do homework. "The party hasn't even started yet. The special guy just arrived." He gestured to the armchair.
Palmer advanced towards the armchair slowly, keeping the perk pointed at it at all time. "Come on! Up with you!" He shouted as threateningly as possible. There was no response.
"You! The ****-wad in the armchair. I'd like a word." There was no response other than a borderline insane laughing from the armchair.
"Hello?" Inquired Palmer, edging ever closer. The laughing continued.
"Your out of your depth. Your a relic, a parasite of a bygone age. My Brothers died to stop you and your "United governments". Yet you live... I hope to change that today." Came the voice of the man in the chair. His mocking laughter had turned to words of ice and venom.
"Don't try and intimidate me you sad little man. I come to avenge them today. You die today brother. You die today Complex 14 you scum!" Palmer had a mad look in his eyes. I wanted to intervene but my curiosity
"So, 11, its you... I mistook you for the other one. Your imbecile commander." Replied Complex 14.
"Hey..." Said Ruary indignantly. Broken, Aaron, Ubi, Insert and Jolly all chuckled a little but were quickly shushed down by myself and Tauto, both enthralled in the disucssion.
"No 14 it is I. And now, your end is nigh. Then your mate at the panel will die." He gestured to Ray, who was still standing motionless by the control panel, looking most please with himself. He knew so many things we didn't. It really ed me off.
Palmer grabbed the chair and span it around. Just as his target's hands came into view from behind Palmer's hulking frame there was a crackling noise, a flash, and Palmer collapsed onto his lap. There he was, the Overlord, Complex 14, Starletts. Still wearing his mask it was unable to discern whether Ray had told us the slightest bit of Truth. Over-Star-14 brushed Palmer off of his lap with his gauntlet, which was smoking from the recent blast.
"A pity, he was always the best battlefield tactician out of us. Lets see. Who's left." He pulled out a list with numbers up to 16 and then the names Williams and Falcon loosely scribbled on the bottom. "There were 12 of us alive after "16" betrayed the Realm, 14 including you Ray and that lovely young girl of yours. Its a pity what happened to her. Then, "1" and "6" went soft. They were dealt with. Then "4" and "5" sacrificed themselves in the effort to destroy the United governments and Council of Lords. We succeeded. "11" then left us and "2" succumbed to his illness, poor Viral." He paused for a second, evidently contemplating loss of a friend. Ray's eyebrow had been furrowed since the mention of the girl. I personally came close to ting myself at the discovering of Viral, "mad ol' Viral's" possible involvement.
"Then "10" was sentenced to banishment and fled." He continued." He waits with Dominus' army currently. Then the War happened. Then "15" betrayed us. Then the "Family" was disbanded until further notice. Then I sent "8" to infiltrate the Brotherhood. Then not much happened. Then Ray formed Tea, then a lot of stuff happened. Then there was the Battle of the Nether Hub, when we discovered that "3" was still alive. Then One-Eye over there became a king, we gave "3" his order's and he's been informing us ever since. Now, please calm down everyone, you look most tense."
"Give me one reason why we shouldn't cut you down now." I said coldly, brandishing Amicus fiercely. "Also, I resent being referred to as "One-Eye"."
"Well, Ray. Show them." Said Overlord. And Ray showed us.
He pressed a button on the panel and the lights snapped on. All over the walkways above us were men with bows and javelins. From between the compartment came men in the Dozens until we were completely surrounded. They were predominantly Honour Guards but there were a number of Storm Troopers in the crowd too. At the door was Antioch, blocking the only conceivable exit. I turned to face Ray.
"How could you do this traitor?"
"Oh please. No need for formalities." He said playfully. "Call me Williams."
"Needless plot twist much?" Asked Ruary. "I mean seriously. Isn't it enough that he betrayed us? The writer was obviously very bored when he wrote this."
"What writer?" Asked Jolly nervously.
"I dunno, he was just making up crap for me to say because he feels I haven't had enough lines this series to make me constitute anything other than a glorified cameo. Plus its fun to screw with the reader's minds" Replied Ruary sadly, hanging his head.
"Now, kill them all." Said Starletts coldly.
TO BE CONTINUED...
So, yeah. PLOT TWISTS!!!
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Part 4: A Tale of Two Lords & The Family In the Shadows
"WAIT!" Shouted Ray. The archer bowstrings slackened, and the soldiers around us lowered their weapons. "What on Earth?" I thought.
"Huh?" Asked Starletts spinning his chair to face Ray.
"May I do the honours cupcake?" Said Ray, putting emphasis on the last word. Something was off, Antioch's eyes flickered for a moment and a number of men in the crowd exchanged looks of satisfaction. There was something familiar about the men's complexions and garbs that was familiar. The skin tone was a similar pale to my own, and they wore tattoos that, whilst near indistinguishable from this distance were somehow familiar.
"Yes but never call me cupcake again." Replied Starletts, blissfully unaware of the exchange that had just occurred. "Might I first congratulate you on a job well done though. You now how my complete trust. I will help you deal with the Falcon."
"Thank you." Ray said grimly. "Too bad that I cannot allow either of you to triumph this day. Falcon will not escape to fulfil her aim of resurrection. Nor will you make your bid to ascend."
"Hang on. I thought you simply aimed to destroy the walls?" Inquired Tauto, sounding almost a bewildered as I felt.
"First of all, the weapon is a decoy, the walls will not fall because of it." Starletts began casually, but become increasingly more malicious as he went on. "The walls will fall because I will tear them down myself. You see, when a moderator dies they do not go on to one of the after-lives. No, they become a spirit, a being similar to a ghost, but real and less creepy. Depending on whether or not they remained pure they may either remain bound to their own coffin or regain semi-physical form and eternal youth to serve in the True Court, guarding the Divines until the end of time.
"We have created a weapon that can absorb the essence of the moderator, killing them with no possible chance of a spirit forming. The essence can then be stripped down to raw energy, and be used as a near infinite power-source for say, my gauntlet, or an armour suit based upon my gauntlet. Redstone energy can only go so far you know. Power it with the essence of a moderator and you'd become one whilst in the suit. Imagine a suit powered with the strength of two, maybe even six moderators. You'd have the power to rival one of the Divines. The best part is, I can also absorb a just regular people as well. Much more temporary but damn it looks fun. Make sure to leave the stand-in choir boy, the knock-off and Herobrine's errand boy."
We all gasped at the thought of Starletts in such a position. Then frowned because of his insults.
"Second of all." He turned to face Ray. "What did you say?"
"I said its time I stopped you. Dominus is supposed to be the one who claims the suit. You will take it for your own. I will gladly wear it if it means that Dominus receives his suit. As for Falcon, as long as you agree to stay out of the suit, we can work together on that front."
"You dare threaten me..." Starlett's tone was cold as ice and his tongue sharper than the sword at my side. His gauntlet transformed into a blade and he approached Ray, who had
Ray pulled out what could only be inferred as the weapon Starletts had spoken of just moments previously from the way he leapt back in fear. It was similar to the gauntlet Starletts wore. However, it was coated in strange Thaumic Runes. The ones for "Erasing", "Consuming" and "Death" were prevalent. That's when I realised who the men in cloaks were.
"Yes. I dare." Ray responded coldly and mechanically.
"Kill him Antioch! Kill him Now!" He shouted angrily, But Antioch did not respond. Starletts began to back up until he was among our crowd. "What's going on?!!" He cried frantically, dropping to his knees. His men moved to attack but he waved them down frantically, not taking his eyes off the gauntlet for a second.
"There-there. We're all just as confused as you. It'll all be fine." Said Aaron mockingly, patting him on the shoulder.
"So, what's this all about Ray?" Ruary boldly demanded, giving Ray a steely glare.
"Well, I''ve always had a certain fondness for you and your legionnaires, and . Therefore I will give you some of the story.
"I am Overlord. Not the terrorist/revolutionary leader; but the project leader from ten years ago. Operation Overlord is old news to all of you I know. 14 of us made it out of the wreckage of the facility alive, not including Fedwin. Fedwin escaped separately and was never inducted into the Family. Starletts has a special Complex, allowing him to be very susceptible to new information for the first 24 hours of receiving a dosage. He can be completely reprogrammed in that time window and until he either hears a trigger word from a trigger person he will not question what he's been told at all, then "turned on and off" as it suits my needs. Makes him the perfect puppet. Even believes the plans that he enacts were his ideas."
"So you've been controlling this "Family" of yours through Starletts this whole time. Trying to do what exactly? Assure Dominus' rule over the Craft? Perhaps more than the Craft... No. Dominus is pretty damn ambitious but he'd need undisputed control of at least seven of the ten major Crafts first." Responded Tauto, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "There is something crucial I'm missing here. What makes Falcon so dangerous?"
"She's a demon from another realm and that's where I'll leave it to protect the dignity of its victim."
"Thaumic I assume. It couldn't be one that latches on to its victim for years unnoticed, could it? One that only truly becomes active if the victim dies? But of course, that's preposterous." I remarked pointedly.
"Well I can tell you you're not far off the mark. How did you guess?" Asked Ray, bemused, lowering his gauntlet from Starletts head momentarily.
"Because of the Thaumic mercenaries you've quite blatantly placed in the crowd. By the looks of it, demon-hunters who specialise in the expulsion of creatures such as this."
"You always were too observant for your own good Kay. Now I'm afraid its your damning. Attack!" Cried Ray, running up to the cylindrical device. It slid open smoothly, revealing a bright light, just illuminating the outline of the suit.
Antioch and the Thaumic warriors sprang into action. Antioch began spraying the men on the walkways with bullets, felling them in the dozens. The Thaumics however, despite Antioch's brutality, had style on their side. All were armed with some form of staff, spraying lightning, fire and frost into the crowd of warriors around them.
We readied ourselves for this. First, Ubi knocked Starletts unconscious, slinging his limp form over his shoulder. Ruary took the Gauntlet from Starletts, brandishing it at any foe who dared come too close. Aaron, Jolly, Broken and Insert ran forwards to clear the way to the door. Tauto and I stayed near the rear with Ruary, covering our retreat.
I looked up at the cylinder momentarily, compressed air sprayed from the vents on the sides. Out of it slumped Ray, clad in white armour. He pulled himself up, armour whirring strangely as he did so. Atop his head was a strange circular helmet, with slits for eyes, both of which glowed blue. Strange blue lamps glowed all over his shining body, mainly around the joints, but the largest was right in the centre of the torso. It would pulse lightly, sending shimmering blue lines across the body with each one. He was the most strangely awe-inspiring yet terrifying sights I had seen since Notch and Herobrine's duel at Zinecraft. Not even Antioch could help but stare at his glorious form.
One poor sod was unlucky enough to find himself in a trance just in front of the cylinder. Ray walked slowly towards him. The man tried to back up but Ray predicted this. He jumped, the soles of his boots sprung outwards in such a way that he was sent into a somersault. He landed with a crash in the man's path, smashing the planks downwards, and leaving the imprints of his boots in the polished spruce surface. The man turned to run back to the cylinder, but was grabbed around the back of the skull.
None of us were ready for what happened next. The runes on the gauntlet glowed purple, and within seconds, the man's veins were glowing the same colour. Then the man's eyes and mouth started exuding purple shadows, a blood-curdling cry of both pain and horror coming from his throat. He began to thrash around frantically, like a marionette being controlled by a bad puppeteer with an exceptionally shaky hand. As this all happened, his skin turned pale, and he became thinner and thinner; to the point where he was more skeleton than man. At last, the man stopped thrashing, the spark of his life disappearing from his eyes as they rolled back into his skull.
Ray dropped the poor skeletal being to the floor where he crumbled to the dust. Normally this was a good sign, however the dust stayed where it was, no magic swirly tornado shape lifted some of the dust away, where it would reform. To add to this there was a sense of finality about the dust, more fragmented than dissolved. I stared at Ray as he stood still, who in turn was staring at his good work. Then my stupor was abruptly broken.
Ray turned and shouted. "Antioch, do not let them escape and warn the moderators! I'll clean up here!" The triumph in his voice was evident in the last sentence. He then rose four feet in the air and commenced raining hell upon both mercenary and soldier alike.
I turned tail and ran towards the door. Insert and Aaron were holding the door open, waiting for me to get there, Insert desperately fending off attackers with his spear. Antioch was heading straight for the door, and he would have beaten me there if Ruary hadn't thought fast and blasted him with the gauntlet. In Antioch's momentary dismay I managed to slide through the opening, just slipping through as my two comrades slammed it shut and put and sealed it with an iron bar.
We allowed ourselves a moments respite. Around us the guards were too busy rushing around the fortress or tending to the wounded to pay us any real attention other than a scowl or rude gesture. Thoughts were rapidly rushing through most of our heads. "...RAY IS OVERLORD?!!!" I was stuck there in my thinking, still dumbfounded.
"Someone needs to slap the writer for all of these irritating plot-twists! DAMN YOU ANONYMOUS HYPOTHETICAL SCRIBE! It had better not be you Apostle!" Cried Ruary, down on his knees shaking his fist at the sky.
"STOP BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL DAMMIT!" Shouted Ubi, whacking the stirring Starletts' head off the wall as he turned to respond.
"Well-" Ruary was cut across by a huge metal fist ramming through the door. We all jumped back a few steps.
"RUN!" Cried Insert, in what is possibly his first real line in this series before turning tail and running up the corridor.
We all followed him as closely as possible; as the door splintered open and Antioch came running after us, firing the occasional shot. "What do we do now?" I asked loudly, struggling to be heard over Antioch's advance.
"We need to warn Ryan about Ray, he and Viking'll be the main targets." Responded Ruary, his battlefield instincts kicking in. "Then we need to think about catching Falcon and the Complexes that are evidently on the loose, and preparing to act out Dominus' deadly machinations. But first we need to send the tin axe-murderer back to the land of Oz. Anyone feeling stupid?"
"Especially stupid." Said Aaron boldly. "And I've got a plan. You guys head on, I'll stop this mo-fo."
"B-but A-a-aaron..." I stammered, dumbfounded at his apparent death wish.
"Don't worry, I've ran through this scenario so many times. There's no way this can succeed without this happening." He said with complete confidence, to the point where I couldn't help but believe him. It was at moments like this that I wondered whether the rumours of him being and oracle were true.
We rounded a corner, sliding on the polished quartz floor. Aaron and I stopped for a few seconds, making eye contact. "Good luck." I said to Aaron. He simply smiled and nodded. We shook hands firmly and parted; Aaron Turning to face Antioch, who had just turned the corner.
Aaron grabbed the satchel of black fireballs from his side, holding his great-sword in the other hand. For thirty seconds he and Antioch glared at each other, then Antioch made the first move. Both hands morphed into guns and he began fire rapidly. Stone was reduced to mere flying chips in clouds of white and grey, great craters and gashes appear in the tiled floors and the metal gilded walls. The once beautiful tapestries and portraits were reduced to tattered rags in broken "frames" of of wood, if they could still be called frames. Occasionally a bullet would ricochet off a particularly hard surface or metal adornment; usually flying up into the ceiling and sending down a shower of splintered wood and sawdust.
Antioch fired until there was a cloud of gun-smoke and powdered stone and wood that was so great that you couldn't see through it. From the middle of the cloud there were a few vague sounds of struggling and spluttering, then silence. Antioch would have smirked had he lips, but in the lack of them morphed his hands back in fists and made a rude gesture at the cloud where Aaron lay. He was about to march through the cloud when there was a swift glint of blue and a sudden damage warning from his chest. He looked down to see the great-sword's hilt protruding from the left side of his chest. He staggered backwards momentarily, his coordination circuit starved of its main supply of power. He'd have to form a back-up path. It was only two minutes wasted but it was two minutes he'd rather have wasted poking the body of the Gaian with long stick, or drawing a frowny face in his ashes with one.
Then from the cloud came a lightning fast figure clasping a strange sack. Antioch, despite the lack of a coordination circuit swung out at him in a clumsy manner. The figure easily dodged underneath, and looking up pulled something out of the bag. At this point Antioch ran a scan of the figures face. "TARGET IDENTIFIED: Aaron; second name unknown. OCCUPATION: Businessman; Gaian lord; Military officer. RACE; Half breed between lesser divine and human. DESCENT: Illegitimate love-child of Lesser divine and Western human nobility. Raised by dwarves in Stoneholm. Later ventured to Zine Craft and became a respected clock-maker. During Great Onslaught served as military officer in the army of the True Court. Went to Vanilla Craft in the aftermath of the Onslaught with the wizard, Astro; the future Gaian king, Kay Mandy; Ranger and future Gaian general Secret Lol; esteemed artist and assassin Small Doughnut, along with a host of others. THREAT LEVEL: ranges from derp to deadly." Antioch couldn't help but wonder how in the name of Notch the ascended this was supposed to help him fight but just decided to roll with it.
Aaron, in the split second it took Antioch to register all this had tossed one of the small black fireballs in the Golem's iron face. The was a flash of black light and Antioch stumbled back from Aaron, a smouldering hole below his left eye socket. Aaron smirked as Antioch failed to weave the wound back together. "Not so invulnerable now are you. with a sword through your chest and half your face gone. I cannot believe Overlord stowed such faith in this glorified furnace. I'm disgusted by your sloppiness in proper combat. Prepare to taste my blade! Oh wait..." Aaron jeered, tone harsh and haughty.
Antioch, angered by Aaron's harsh words, extended one of his guns and fired five shots in quick succession. With the lack of a coordination unit it was all down to chance. All but one bullet missed. Aaron dodged the first four bullets with ease, but he did not see the fifth as he prepared he counter-attack. As Aaron lobbed the black fireball at Antioch's gun, he was struck in the centre of his chest by the bullet. Later Aaron described the sensation of being shot directly in chest by Antioch as: "Remember that huge ass metal shoe trap Astro used to -quite literally- kick Cossack out of the guild? Imagine the equivalent force of twelve of those dancing on your chest whilst coated in lava. Its not a very nice sensation."
Aaron struck the floor with a clatter, wind rushing out of his lungs. He lay on the floor gasping for breath, like a fish yanked from the water and left to die on the hull of some ship somewhere. There was no sensation of crumbling or ceasing of being and now he naturally assumed he would truly die. He prepared to let death's sweet embrace take him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he readied for eternal slumber. Then they snapped open as he realised he wasn't bleeding, was still breathing and was probably just being a wuss. He sat up and looked down, there was a large dent just over his heart where the bullet was still lodged. He pulled it out the notice that while there was a hole in his armour it had not actually made contact with skin. He was almost disappointed.
He then looked up and saw Antioch clasping his left hand, which was now a melted mass of metal. Seeing that Aaron was alive and in semi-good health, Antioch finished off his repairs and got into a combat stance. Aaron noticed that his bag of fireballs had skittered across the floor behind Antioch. The two charged at each other. Just as Antioch was about to punch Aaron in the face, he slid between the Golem's legs, and reached out for the bag. He just caught the top of the sack-cloth bag with his fingers, clasping it tight. Then there was a violent tugging sensation on his left leg and Aaron found himself facing an upside down Antioch. He stared into those life-like blue eyes, terror striking him.
Antioch swung at Aaron with precision. The North Wind itself would have been crushed if he received such a blow. Aaron gripped the end of the bag and shook the explosive contents over the floor. There was a black flame and Aaron was lifted, then consumed. He felt a sensation of falling, then more falling, then falling some more, then he smashed into the floor. He looked up, fading in and out of consciousness, the smoke cleared vaguely. He had evidently cracked open the floor and fallen quite far through a number of levels. Every bit of him ached, but he wasn't dead.
", I'm alive. Didn't count on this." He murmured to himself. He looked left, Antioch was missing his left foot but was hauling himself to his feet with great effort. All over him were various wounds, some healing, some remaining open. In a last ditch effort to regain balance Antioch tugged the sword from the left side of his chest, making a loud grinding noise. The wound immediately began to seal over. The sword clattered to the floor, unknowingly skittering towards its master. Aaron pulled himself to his shaking legs and clumsily grabbed the sword from the floor. There were open wounds all over his arms, along with a burn-wound showing from a gaping hole in his breastplate. His armour and clothes were tattered to the point where they hung off him like eggshells. The room they were in was a hall of stone. The floor was chequered black and white, like a great chess board. All along the walls were steam-pipes, hissing and bubbling. They were evidently close to the boiler.
He and Antioch charged for the final time. Antioch caught Aaron off guard and slammed him into the wall with one arm. The sword hung limply in Aaron's right hand. Antioch caught him with that calmly intelligent blue gaze and for the third time that night Aaron prepared for death. His eyes clenched shut as Antioch drew back his melted fist. Then he opened then, thought "I have got to see a therapist about this..." and sunk the sword into Antioch's other arm. The resulting mechanical cry from Antioch echoed around the stone hall.
Aaron saw his opportunity and acted quickly. As Antioch groaned Aaron swung. There was a glint of blue, a crunching noise and then there was a clattering noise. Antioch's head rolled skittered across the floor mournfully, eyes flickering sadly, before going completely dark. Aaron turned as the great body collapsed with a great crash. He turned to see two awestruck Brotherhood soldiers carrying bags of satchel charges, both holding weapons as if they had just been about to join in when Aaron ended the fight. Aaron recognised them from that day about 6 months after the war ended.
The Brotherhood had changed hands from a distraught Komplex, to a fresh and ambitious Tauto. Unlike Komplex, who seemed overly devoted to the destruction of the Realm, despite Woobly's surprise attack which almost completely destroyed it. He never had taken defeat well. Despite the massacre that had taken place, during which at least twice as many Realm soldiers died as Brotherhood soldiers did, Komplex couldn't help blaming himself for letting Dominus slip through his fingers again. His last real action as leader of the Brotherhood had been to attack and destroy the Woobly Pyramid, before disbanding one of the best trained human armies in the history of the Craft. He had contemplated going back and hunting down Dominus. However, it simply seemed to him that it was unsporting for one. Then there was the difference between cutting him down in his own Citadel in front of a group of haughty aristocrats and servants as his army swarmed through the citadel in a glorious charge; and slaughtering some bloke in a forest in front of a bunch of rather weary woodcutters and builders with an oversized army that was hopelessly bored.
Then the Brotherhood had remained inactive for roughly five months. They were almost forgotten, a children's tale told to scare small children and make them check under the bed for a hairy creature wearing funny pants. Tauto however, had other plans. He convinced the still confused Komplex that he was in no shape to properly lead, and needed a rest; gaining himself title of Chapter leader in the process. Then he, Mad Dog (now Atreidon), St. Jay and Ubi began their machinations. Mad Dog was sent out to spread a message of fear among the other groups, whilst also offering them the possibility of salvation should they side with the Brotherhood. The others went out and "re-asserted" Brotherhood dominance in the Frontlines. Then they began stealing Testificate slaves and breeding them, reforming their dominance in the slave trade after the THP-land massacre. Then, a month in the Brotherhood began recruiting for the first time since they arrived in this land.
There was a large meeting in the Forum for the trial of Gerrit. Whilst Kay and Mad went toe to toe to the point where they started brawling Aaron had been outside with Secret, "chilling" at the Shrine. Suddenly Ubi and Tauto came out with Bottany and set up a huge podium, drawing the attention of the large crowd that was gathered. Then Jolly came up and made some rousing speech or something and asked for volunteers. Their task was to fight Ubi in the boxing rink. Should they survive three rounds or beat Ubi they could join the Brotherhood. Many tried and failed, but by the end they had six new recruits. These were Beatman, Bebe, Get Mad, Sky Canopus, Johnny Apple and Loki. Before Aaron now were Loki and Johnny. They seemed most impressed for Brotherhood members. Usually the Brotherhood never let on when they were impressed. Therefore, either Aaron had just done something impossibly badass; these guys were kept out of the major public image for a reason; or Antioch had hit him harder than he thought.
Johnny was the first to speak. "That was pretty damn impressive Gaian, ever consider applying to a real cause? I mean Kay makes some okay points, and he's a pretty good tactician but admit it, we're always going to come out on top." He spoke haughtily and without empathy.
" off. I don't need this..." Grunted Aaron, turning and limping away from the two; disgruntled by Johnny annoying salesman approach to recruitment.
"I'm sorry, forgive my arrogant friend. You can see why he's not let outside a lot. I'm Loki, pleased to make your acquaintance. " He continued before Johnny could protest. "Do you know where the others are. Brother Beatman said there was some sort of offensive going on down here, he gave us a map. I'm starting to think it wasn't a proper map and he was trying to get us out of the way." He handed over a small wooden sheet with a few scribbles on it.
"This is a game of snakes and ladders: pocket edition with a bunch of squiggly lines and a misspelt "X". I'm not sure how he managed it but he spelt it "iXe". You guys actually fell for this piece of ?" Aaron asked incredulously.
"We only got the map a few minutes ago. He was leading us from it." Said Johnny in a whiny voice. "Hang on where is Beatman? He was with us a minute ago. Gave us the map so he could go take a and sent us on. I would have thought caught up by now."
"This is odd. There is no offensive down there. You two are demolitions experts aren't you?" Aaron inquired, breaking into a coughing fit.
"Yeah, Beat said something about breaking the Northern Tower down from beneath." Replied Loki.
"The Northern Tower is in the complete opposite direction, and those wouldn't be enough to bring down the tower from beneath, the thing is build on a rare upsurge of obsidian..." Aaron and the duo all had the same moment of realisation. There was the clank of a boot hitting metal from behind. They all turned at once, weapons at the ready, Aaron grabbing the reinforced phial from around his neck to make sure it was still there.
All of a sudden multiple steam-pipes began bursting and created a fog cloud around them. Aaron immediately led the group up to one of the recently burst pipes, to find that someone had crudely rammed a shiv into the pipe while they hadn't been looking. Loki leant in and examined the shiv. The craftsmanship was evidently Brotherhood, with the curved shard of diamond, glinting with the purple shimmers of enchantment; and the mahogany handle the blade was delicately inserted into a pristine birch handle with delicately carved finger grips. What made Aaron especially uneasy was the decorative "B" on the base of the blade.
"This is Brother Beatman's bla-" Loki began, before stopping abruptly and spluttering. In a few seconds he was on the floor, coughing up blood before going limp and crumbling to dust. In the midst of the pile was an almost identical blade to the one Loki had just pulled out of the pipe. Aaron and Johnny turned with their weapons towards their assailant.
"Weapons down boys, you might just hurt someone. We wouldn't want to lose anyone else after today's bloodbath. By the way you haven't seen a small shifty looking chap with a musket have you? I was supposed to meet him here." Came the haughty voice of Beatman as he strolled casually through the fog to the point where they could just make him out. His face was narrow and gaunt-looking like he had not slept or eaten properly in some days. He walked with a mild limp, as if something were causing him great pain or discomfort as he walked; as if he walked on broken glass. He had donned his traditional Brotherhood armour for a more traditional suit, only lacking a top-hat to look like one of the gentlemen of the city of Mojang. He evidently wasn't expecting much conflict.
"Hello I'm Complex 8. pleased make your acquaintance. Before you grace me with the inevitable death threats I'd like to say that I've delved into some old Endling magic and it would be wise not to me off. Almost killed me but damn was it worth it. Now put the weapons down and-" He was cut off by a violent outburst from Johnny.
"Like hell we will! THP till I die mo-fo! BLARGHHH!" And he rushed at Complex 8/Beatman, sword in hand, eyes clamped shut against the steam.
There was a blur and Beatman was gone, and Johnny had four identical blade protruding from his chest, him letting a low groan slip between his lips. Behind him was none other than Beatman, except, his skin appeared to be made of diamond, like Komplex when he went into battle. The suit was torn where the diamonds poked through, and his head was plated in what looked like a diamond hockey mask jammed crudely into a helmet. The blades that had killed Johnny were protruding from between Beat's knuckles (like wolverine's claws; clichéd I know but roll with me here). Beat placed his foot on Johnny's rump and unceremoniously tugged out the blade muttering "Never liked you anyway".
Beat readied to turned on Aaron when a phial of strange green liquid smashed against the left side of his face. The liquid itself was the colour of swamp grass, and smelled at least as foul as a swamp itself. The liquid would have been unpleasant to begin with, but then the burning started. He let out of his throat a great cry of pain, that pierced Aaron's eardrums. Thick grey smoke began to rise from the left half of his face; Aaron had a certain sense of Deja Vu. Thankfully this did not hamper his senses too long, and he followed it up by royally boxing Beat's ear. Beat crumpled to the floor, clasping his injured faced. As Aaron stood over him, Beat came to his senses and croaked "You're late 3."
"Sorry," Came a familiar voice from behind Aaron. Aaron was about to turn and identify the new figure when a cold metal blade punched through the back of his chest and out through the front. Aaron felt himself tense up in pain, but managed to muster the strength to look down. Protruding from his chest was the unmistakable tip of a Gaian bayonet. It was authentic down to the monogrammed ASM, signifying the makers of the blade were Aaron's old company Authentic Stoneholm Manufacturing. They were most certainly a Gaian. "I've never been good at keeping deadlines." There was a bang and a gaping hole appeared in Aaron's chest, and a sensation of crumbling. He felt a boot on hi back, a sensation of falling and then he was jut a pile of dust on the floor.
Elsewhere the rest of us were still scrambling around the fortress, both witnessing the ever deteriorating situation for Overlord's men first-hand, and searching helplessly for a mod. At last we came to a courtyard lit by dawns early light and filled with marble statues, lush lawns, a lovely fountain and dozens of brawling soldiers. We were in luck, Ryan himself had just entered the courtyard with a squad of Void's men, along with a compilation of fighters from different groups. He was holed up a top the fountain, blasting back or stabbing anyone who dared come near him whilst simultaneously delivering orders and using his staff to pick up and lob heavy objects at a large iron door, which seemed to lead towards the Northern Tower.
A quick description of the Northern Tower is big, threatening, and filled to the brim with weapons and explosives. A true marvel of Vangaardian architecture; carved out of a great mound of obsidian which protruded from the earth, and then built upon with imported stone, said to be strong enough to survive a full on attack from one of the great Withers. 5 years ago to the date of the attack Vangaard had bought the city of Aegis and begun work on what would soon gain fame as one of the most secure structures in the Craft, only surpassed by the innermost Brotherhood vaults, the Woobly Pyramid and the Bunkers beneath the R7K citadel. Today, it was equipped with Overlords finest cannons and mortars, with an elite battalion stationed there at all times, with room for three more battalions (battalions being between 900 and 1,200 men). Most of his forces appeared to have retreated to the palace, and then many of those to the Northern Tower; for the Tower was raining hell upon the city. Ally and enemy were plainly not being distinguished between; the only goal was evidently to level anything within the minimum and maximum ranges in every direction.
We forced our way past a group of Overlord's men; having to leave Jolly, Broken and Insert behind to help Ubi. Starletts had woken up and was calling to his men to help him whilst wrestling with Ubi. Then, in a few moments Tauto, Ruary and I were standing before Ryan. He looked down for a moment and noticed our distraught faces.
"What's going on? Did you disable the weapon?" He asked in a half exited half panicked voice.
"No sir," Said Ruary, running a thorough report of the events. "We were duped on almost every level. The hostages got out but we were swayed by Ray to take an alternative route due to very real security boosts. By the way did you know he was-"
"Alive? I was told by a few boys from Team 2. I also know that's Starletts wrestling with Ubi right now thanks to them." Ryan responded, with a proud note in his voice at being in the know about something.
"Well then," Continued Ruary. "We discovered that he was Williams..." And thus Ruary continued up to the point of our present situation. "We can assume that Ray will be waiting in the hanger for you and the other moderators."
"Mother of GOD!" Cried Ryan suddenly. "Viking is taking the others into the hanger to help out you guys and possibly disarm the weapon!"
"We've got to get there now!" Replied Tauto, pleased to have a definite mission. "What's the Fastest route?"
"Follow me..." Ryan stated coldly before hopping down from the fountain and beginning to walk in what we naturally assumed was the direction of the hanger.
"Wait." Said Ruary abruptly. Ryan turned almost indignantly to ask "What?"
"Take this." Ruary tossed him the Gauntlet. Ryan smiled in gratitude and slotted his arm in to that fabled weapon of his enemy.
"Let us go friends." He began, turning to the wider group of soldiers who had just driven out Overlord's men. "My men will stay here and tend to the wounded, holding this area until reinforcements arrive. The rest of you are with me. We're ending this here and now! Now we take the head of the Overlord!"
There was a rallying war-cry and we were off. I decided to look at who was among the six dozen or so of us who were charging through the previously empty corridors (unless you count a few corpses left to rot as the flies gathered around them). First of all there were about fifteen Vangaardian knights, led by the demi-mod, Gorbanth. Woe betide any who stood in the way of these by-the-book, but deadly warriors glad in iron and gold. Following them were a group of Legionnaires who were apparently leaderless. After them was a group of warriors from ELITE, their former green and blue emerald armour, replaced with blood red rubies, or at least very well painted emerald and or metal, with obsidian filling the replacing the lapis adornments where possible. These were led by Alec Mountain, Governor of Williamsburg, prince of the forest. Then there was a detachment of roughly twenty members of the Order and a bakers dozen of standard and elite soldiers; their appearance so tattered even the perpetual arrogance of the elite soldiers was temporarily silenced. We had had to leave Ubi and Insert behind due to injury, leaving just myself, Tauto, Ruary, Broken and Jolly as the remains of Team 3. Also among the crowd were Secret and Small, who came up beside me.
"Mind explaining what on Earth is going on?" Asked Secret pointedly.
"Ray is alive, Overlord, and on the verge of becoming all powerful thanks to a futuristic set of armour that can suck out people's souls." I blurted out, panting from lack of breath due to both running and speaking at the same time.
"So..." Secret was obviously disturbed by this information, looking nervously at Small. "As bad or worse than Zine"
"Less dangerous for now, but we're not as well equipped as we were then. Plus our enemy knows very well what he's up against this time, nor does he rely on the unreliable yet crushingly predictable behaviour of the creatures of the night."
"Well, at least we have them on the run." Muttered Small, annoyed at the lack of any positive info.
"We can't claim that for long," Secret retorted gravely. "Raylord has evidently been planning for this eventuality for quite a while. I assume this suit is one of the projects that was originally developed during "Operation Overlord". This is probably what Fedwin has been developing for the duration of his capture. By the way, what happened to Fedwin? I hear he wasn't among the escaped hostages."
"I imagine he wasn't." Ruary interjected, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "He was one of Overlord's most important prisoners, if not the most important. He'll have been kept in solitary, probably in either the tower or the hanger at the moment.
"I must agree with you there Ruary. Excellent deductions. Glad to see that there are military minds to rival my own and Aaron's." Secret replied cheerfully, in his element. Small rolled his eyes; knowing that Secret was about to go into one of his famous rambles. Then Tauto interjected indignantly.
"Hey! We have some damn good minds in our collective as well." The pang of hurt that he had not been immediately included in the conversation and was now being excluded from praise was evident in his voice.
Secret was about to respond but Small cut across him sourly and cuttingly. "I'll admit that you have some fine economic minds, and you yourself are a damn politician, but you lack proper military strategy beyond the first few steps."
Tauto was about to respond with either a cutting insult or a long, deep counter-argument about why Small was wrong when the figure of Walt went flying over our heads screaming something about "not signing up for this". Then came the sound of metallic, maniacal laughter. Ray was quite obviously enjoying himself way too much. This was going to be difficult.
We entered into the hanger and were greeted by chaos itself. Around the room our lot were being overwhelmed by the forces of our enemies. The scene was that of Overlord's daily update videos; with the polished metal railings; the idyllic waterfall and lip of rock; there was even a camera in the middle of the room, with a small Latino man curled up on the floor, a chain leading to a peg hammered loosely into the floor. In the centre was Overlord, clad in white, with rings of men lying around him. It took me a second to notice but Ray was grappling with someone, and that the men lying closest to the two were unconscious moderators. It didn't take me long to figure out that the person locked in combat with Ray was Viking.
Viking stabbed at Ray's head with his javelin, only to have it wrenched from his hand. Ray pulled it from his enemy's hand, knocking back Viking, before snapping it over his knee. Viking made to blast Ray back with his staff, thrusting with the strength of ten men. With a twirl Ray leapt to the right, Vikings blast doing little but blowing Fabio's (as I learned he was called) peg out of the floor. As Fabio jumped up in glee and fled from the Scene, Ray knocked the staff from Viking's grip and struck him upon the helm. As Viking toppled like a tree in lumber district Ray turned around slowly and triumphantly, arms spread like an eagle's.
"Who will face me?" Cried Ray; contempt evident in his tone, . "Where is the might of the Brotherhood?" He gestured to the ashes and a sword that were unmistakably Komplex. "The Gaians?" He gestured to a detachment of unconscious and or dead Gaians. "Legion?" He gestured to the corpse of Reagan. Ruary flinched momentarily at the sight of his fallen brother. "Arcation?" There was a strange lack of any arcation corpses but Ray did not seem to realise. "Did not a mere 10 years ago most of you convened in the Great Forum, in the face of Herobrine's Onslaught? Did many of you not boldly declare this Craft to contain the finest of all men? That nothing could break the strength and unity of this Craft? Well, I see ye who boasted have royally jinxed yourselves. Wait... Where're the Arcation bodies, where's my dead gogyst?"
At that point Vacar charged at Ray, swinging his fiery blade, cleaving a small but notable gash in the armour just beneath the left arm. Ray sadly, was only grazed, and was not vaguely fazed but very annoyed at the tear in his new suit. His left hand then morphed into a sword and was swung crudely at Vacar's head. Vacar blocked the blow with his flaming blade, but was caught in the throat by the other gauntlet. He staggered back momentarily, coughing into his hand and drawing it back to find blood spattered on in. He made a lurching movement that might have been an attempt on Ray's life but he ended up crumbling into Ray's arms, a hollow shell of dusty armour.
There was the sound of a twanging bowstring and Overlord jerked unwillingly forwards, turning to see Besta duck behind Walker's great stone shield. From his left shoulder protruded an arrow, whose eagle-feather fletchings were unmistakably of Arcation make. From either side charged Gogyst and Noobi, letting out horrific war cries, murder in their eyes. Ray had to think fast, and so he did. First he removed Walker's and Besta from the fight, with a dual-gauntleted blast that smashed into that wall of a shield. The great stone shield was reduced to chunks and powder as its master and Besta were thrust backwards by the sheer force of the explosion. Then he plucked the arrow from his shoulder, for it had only been lightly lodged in between two plates of his armour and had drawn no blood. This he then threw with precision into the chest of Noobi, who, whilst not slain, was forced to drop his sword in agony. The fluorescent light in the palm of Ray's hand glowed bright blue and the plummeting sword gained new purpose and soared, handle-first into Ray's outstretched hand.
Savouring the triumph of this skilful display(at least by his own standards) he failed to notice Gogyst come up behind him until he was being doused in fire. Gogyst observed the ball of flame exuding from the tip of his staff with almost sick triumph until the fuel ran out and the flame flickered away. Gogyst's face changed from malice to shock as what he anticipated to be a melted white ball of pain, was revealed a charred and somewhat angry, but otherwise unharmed Ray. He was chortling insanely to himself.
"Was that supposed to hurt? I'll admit it tickled a bit but is that all you are capable off? If I wanted to be amused I'd have employed the services of a nanny, not confront the chieftain of Arcation." He droned in a purposefully droll and mocking tone.
Gogyst snarled at Ray's jeers and charged in anger, and swung at Ray's throat with the tip of his staff. The blade however, despite its most precise effort to find flesh, was greeted by the flat of Noobi's steel blade. Gogyst, used to this scenario pressed a button on the shaft and a small poison-tipped dart sprang out into Ray's face. The dart however was just as useless as the spear, bouncing off of Ray's mask, causing him to do little more than flinch mildly. Ray then followed up this successful strategy of blocks by clouting Gogyst around the head with his free hand. There was a cracking noise and Gogyst fell with a thud, his eyes hazy and his jaw hanging open in a sickeningly wide and distorted manner. His staff clattered to the floor just out of his reach. Gogyst and Ray both saw the weapon at once and both moved to react. Gogyst spun and kicked Ray in the shoulder, knocking away his outstretched arm. Gogyst grabbed the spear low in the shaft, and, wielding it like some form of crude club swung it at his oncoming opponent. However, just as it smashed into the dazzling white mask, the blade of Noobi sank into his wrist. Gogyst let out a shriek of pain as his bloodied, gloved hand fell to the floor. Ray however was not unscathed, he was doubled over, holding his hand to his eye. He drew it away and straightened up. In one eye the light had gone dim and there was a long twisting crack coming down from the dimmed eye. From this crack poured blood, not much but enough to lift our spirits.
From somewhere in the the crowd someone cried "ATTACK" and we fell upon him. Ruary halted a moment to warn Ryan and Gorbanth away from joining the fighting. They consented and he rushed off to join the rest of us. In the centre a slaughter was taking place, Ray brutally battering our men as some brave souls tried to remove the fallen moderators from the fray. In order to avoid the general massacre, Secret, Small and I decided to try out some old tactics. I muttered "Prison station Delta, explosive daggers tactic" to the pair and we set about our technique. I rushed as close as I dared to Ray and crouched, fingers knitted together so as to give them a boost. Secret sprinted at me, being thrust over my head as he stepped in my hand, firing an explosive arrow into Ray's chest. Ray gave a small bit of ground and the light on his chest flickered momentarily, but he was much unperturbed. Then Small came in, being chucked in a similar fashion, and slicing down on the place where Secret had just blasted, leaving an "X" shaped gash in his chest and causing the light to continuously flicker like a damp torch. Before he could finish the job however he was grabbed by the throat and thrown into the crowd.
Our men, try as they might could not break his defences, but he was shattering our offence. He simply needed to strike a man and he would fall. WHACK, one man down. CRACK, two more fallen. SNAP, another's spine was shattered over his knee. It seemed impossible and we began to give ground, only to find that Besta had taken the initiative whilst we were all allowing ourselves to be made fools of. He had organised the archers and four riflemen into a ring around Overlord and as we retreated he gave the order. Overlord was suddenly caught in an endless storm of arrows and bullets. Soon everyone who could was involved, even if just throwing rocks. Yet still he was able to fire blasts of that strange blue flame and fell our men at almost regular intervals. Yet we were still doing little damage in comparison.
"There has to be some way to do this..." thought Secret frantically. Then, noticing the ceiling he allowed his bowstring to slacken and his eyes to wander up to the uneven limestone ceiling. Then he saw it, conveniently located just above Ray's head was a large and seemingly loose stalactite. He returned the arrow already nocked to his quiver and plucked his last explosive arrow. He drew the bowstring back sharply, to the point where his hands began to quiver from the strain and took careful and delicate aim. A bead of sweat trickled down Secret's forehead. He knew he only had one shot at this and he was going to make it count. However, just as he was about to let the arrow fly, a strange whiskey bottle soared through the air, twirling as it did so.
The bottle shattered on the stalactite, bursting into flames. The great knife point of stone began to shake and the ceiling around it began to crack and shower Ray in dust. He ceased from the slaughter and all began to fall back as he stared in confusion at the shattering ceiling. Then there was a sudden crack and the heavens fell upon Ray. In a few moments there was little more than a pile of rubble where he was. The fingers of his gauntlet were poking out from beneath the rocks, looking quite limp. Overlord's men retreated in terror, seeing that their leader had been vanquished.
"He's dead..." Came the mumble of Gorbanth, who had approached the pile cautiously. "I can't believe it he's actually dead! WE'VE WON!"
There was a raucous wave applause from among the men, I myself joined in. Secret looked gleefully at me from his position on the other side of the ring. I returned the gesture and we returned our gaze to Gorbanth who was calling for quiet.
"I believe we all have one man to thank for this great victory. That man is right up there on that walkway, Viral!" He gestured to a dancing Viral, clasping his fiery whiskey bottles and wearing his mask. He had evidently gotten lost again and had done it for leisure, possibly not even realising it would fall on anyone. He looked like he was about to toss a whiskey bottle into the crowd in his excitement. He never got the chance to brutally maim those eager young Legionnaires he was taking such care to aim for.
From the pile of rubble had come a tidal wave of solid light. We were all blown backwards, in a daze from the force of the blow. In the centre of it all was a badly dented and extremely dusty Ray, floating two inches off of the ground. The bottom right corner of his mask was missing, showing the bleeding and bruised corner of his mouth. My vision was hazy and I was phasing in and out of consciousness.
Ryan struck Ray round the head with his staff, the sound of metal on stone ringing around the hanger. All went black. Then Ryan was struck in the gut, wind rushing from his lungs. The blur that was Ray knocked the staff from the Ryan blur's hands. All went black again. Ray was standing over the fallen Ryan, my vision clearer now. All turned to black as Ray lifted Ryan by the throat up to eye level. My eyes snapped open as Ray's gauntlet turned and Ryan began thrashing. I thought all was lost, Ray would have the power of a moderator. Dominus won whether he got the suit or not. It was over.
But then the most peculiar thing happened. Ryan's pupils narrowed in concentration, and he stopped thrashing. With a shaking hand he gripped the damaged light in Ray's breastplate. His other hand was drawing back, as if to push Ray back. His fingers dug deep into the brittle quartz around the light, causing it to crumble like dry sand. Then, with the strength of a dozen men, Ryan wrenched it from Ray's chest, simultaneously slamming his other palm into Ray's bare breast. Ray soared out of the room at the speed of the wind. We all hauled ourselves to our feet, hobbling towards the edge. We all looked down in dazed curiosity to find the same almost sorry sight.
Ray lay spread-eagled on the rocks below, seemingly gasping for air. From his back came a steady flow of crimson blood. A number of wild dogs came up and began to lap at the blood, having been starved of food since Overlord's men came and took to hunting animals in excess, leaving little worth mentioning. A few of the men broke into half-hearted cheers that eventually broke into hearty applause. But there was an air of hollowness to it. There was something we had missed, I was sure of it. I turned to look at Ryan, who was sat atop a rock, looking dumbfounded.
"Cubs, Gorb, scrape Ray off of those rocks will you? He'll stick. And for god's sake will someone tend to Gogy's hand, he's bleeding out over there!" Viking said in a poor but well-meant attempt at dark humour. He walked up to Ryan and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"The successor will surpass his master in strength, and cut off the head of the family..." Ryan said in an excited but terrified voice, the breath seemingly removed from his lungs.
"...and from the verge of demise shall defeat the would be divine. Yet heed my warning. Thy successor will lead the Craft into a golden age, at the sacrifice of thy own life... Thus were the words of the Oracle those long years ago Ryan." Viking said soothingly embracing him.
While I struggled to grasp what this meant as Ryan broke down into silent tears of mourning. "For whom does he weep?" I asked Celtic in a whisper.
"For a man who has yet to die..." Celtic murmured cryptically.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
The story goes on. The Overlord may be defeated, but Falcon, Dominus and Zerg are still out there. Not to mention that the Family has returned.
Chapter 3: Familiar Faces
Part 1: The Train
The battle after Ray's defeat had been relatively simple. Overlord's men in the hanger had scattered like woodlice when their shelter is yanked from the ground, revealing them to the blinding gaze of a merciless sun. Gorbanth and Rage, both of Vangaardian descent had lead the assault on the Northern Tower, shattering the defences with their mere presence. The Tower was in such a state of disarray by the time they battered down the door and marched in taking the tower felt almost redundant. Falcon had escaped the city with a small unit of her storm troopers, Beatman, a captive Fedwin (he really has no luck does he?), the person who stabbed Aaron and a prototype version of the gauntlet Ray had intended to use on the moderators. There of course was a massive party across the entire city once we had rounded up the remaining insurgents. However, it felt, hollow. Falcon was still out there and likely about to go straight to Dominus.
This feeling hung heavily on me as I lay in that dark, dusty train car. It was dated, even though trains were a relatively new invention. This car, in addition to being third class, was a good twenty years old, and had clearly seen better days than these. The once crimson curtains were now faded and moth-eaten. The seaweed green leather seat cushions were torn in almost every place possible. The wooden panels were covered in scratches, weird food stains, graffiti, vomit, blood and just about everything else horrible that a human could do to a the wall of a train car whilst bored.The gold-painted iron grates upon which we had placed our few pieces of luggage and weapons were in a pretty sorry state too. The paint had scratched off in many parts and the iron beneath was rusting due to water leaking through various cracks in the ceiling. The room was dimly lit by a small brass chandelier with six oil fuelled candles. Only two of these candles were still lit, and they staggered drunkenly along, plainly on their last legs as the chandelier lashed out at anything around it. It might have been considered a luxury vessel back in its prime, but now it was a relic in a budget train cobbled together from the remains of other vehicles during the Great Onslaught. I lay asleep on the seat nearest the back of the train, Aaron lay asleep on the other. In a room about three doors down on the other side of the corridor lay Secret and Linx. Then in the room across from myself and Aaron was the surprise guest of our journey.
In that room was Mad Ol' Viral, and his pet cat, ABSOLUTE FLIPPING PSYCHOPATH!!! (or simply psycho). His presence had been a personal request during the celebrations. Upon Secret rather rudely demanding his reason he said this. "This may seem strange to you, but I'm familiar with this . I won't tell you how but I am, its too hard to explain at this moment. As for why I want to come, well, that's simple. Its come to my attention that you Gaians and Falcon are somehow interconnected. Just look at how she mocks your military, twisting the uniform, forming a group similar to your Elite Soldiers, and then organising the rest to mimic yours. Face it, wherever one goes the other will soon follow, whether you do it consciously or not."
And thus I consented and he came with us. While he could get into relatively foul tempers he was good company, he was an eloquent speaker and just as good at listening. Prior to this I had only heard him speak in the Forum or seen his monthly psychotic episodes, and had grown no proper sense of respect for the man. However, knowing that he had connections to the Family gave me a new-found interest in him. Sadly, in the week he had travelled with us I was as far from the truth of Falcon's identity as I ever had been. He knew about all of their old operations, and had believed them to have disbanded after the Brotherhood-Realm War, when Gerrit had been arrested. Falcon must have joined quite recently if this was the case.
I woke up with a start thinking I had figured it out. Then, my excitement quickly faded as I began to wonder what it was, or how I had solved it. I noticed that the side of my face was wet, and came to the conclusion that I had been caught on the cheek by a water droplet from the ceiling. I was about to lie down and return to sleep, grumpy that I had wasted my own time in such a way when I heard something.
Over the trundle of the train I heard voices, six of them I thought at first. Then I dismissed one of the voices because two sounded the same. I heard little but the word "knife" but on instinct assumed that it was not a bunch of rather husky sounding maids. I pulled my cloth blanket up over my face so that only my eyes were visible as the lock clicked and the door creaked slowly open. Standing in the opening was a pale-faced man in black robes with familiar purple tattoos. In one hand he held a crude knife, evidently made so that it looked like poor people did it, and in the other he clasped an old Dwarven pistol. "God! they still use those useless pieces of rubbish out here?" I had to mask my stifled snort with a yawn, stretching for good measure. My good humour in this instance was due to the lack of advancement that had apparently happened in the Inner Realm and or the Thaumlands was evident down to the way he held it. He was holding it from the hip, obviously expecting to shoot someone in the chest should they attack him. Since the rediscovery of enchantments this tactic was all but fruitless, as the old pistols were barely half as powerful as a perk. These poor sods wouldn't survive a day where we were headed.
I allowed myself this brief moment of satisfaction but was forced to let it go when I noticed that he was readying to slit Aaron's throat. I acted on pure instinct. I sprung out from beneath my blankets, pulling a flaming Amicus from its scabbard. The assassin turned in surpise to be struck in the nose by the pommel of my sword. There was cracking noise and he slumped against the door, crimson pouring from his flattened nose. The weapons dropped fom his hands and his eyes clenched shut. He was quite unconscious. I wiped the blood from the lapis pommelstone, cursing the man for having such a fragile nose. I checked that I was equipped with a perk, knife and sword and yanked open the door with a tremondous battle-cry.
Waiting there were two men turning in shock to see me. These two were from the Southern Outlands, where I had been raised. One of them swung a crudely crafted knife at me, the swing was blind and rushed, it would only hit me if I stayed completely still. I charged straight into him, batting his oncoming arm aside and kicking him in the diaphragm, causing the air to rush from his lungs. He went flying into Viral's room, the door mercifully unlocked and crashed into the sleeping Viral. Upon receiving this rude awakening Viral immediately reached for the first weapon available, his cat, Psycho. With a deafening shriek that could only be given out by a cat scorned the assailant was struck in the face by a very confused and grumpy Psycho. The man fell back with the cat attached mercilessly to his face. I turned from the scene to face the second as Viral began his assault.
This man had obtained himself a moment to get prepared and stood in proper fighting stance, clasping his knife like an extension of his own arm; proceeding to twirl it skilfully in his hand and making a sickeningly malicious grin. This was going to be much easier than I had anticipated. I swung my sword heavily and directly, slicing off half of the blade of his brittle knife, leaving a comparatively blunt and useless weapon. However, contrary to my expectations, instead of turning and fleeing he threw a blind punch to the temple which dazed me. Then the third man, who I had been unable to see grabbed me under the arms in such a way that I couldn't use Amicus against him. As I struggled his counterpart decided to come up and take a dig at me.
I leapt from the floor and kicked my assailant in the jaw. It came loose with a sickening crunch and he fell back, making a garbling noise that I assume would have been a cry of pain. This move was a double win, for not only had I incapacitated one, but the recoil from the blow was toppling the man who was restraining me. using the backwards motion from the fall I rolled over him as we fell, landing beside him as I dropped off. We both crawled to our feet at the same time. Still dazed from the blow to the temple I made a wild slash for his throat, to have my hand whacked upwards so that it stuck firmly in the wooden ceiling. Unable to remove it from the ceiling I used it as a fulcrum, jumping up and swinging my legs forwards. He was caught in the chest and toppled back onto the man with the broken jaw. I pulled out my knife and walked up them, my chest facing the door of mine and Aaron's room, knife pointed at the spot between the eyes of the man with the broken jaw.
That's when the door swung open and there was the bald man, pointing his pistol at my heart. I was momentarily frightened, until he actually shot me. Everything that could go wrong with one of these pistols did. First of all the bullet flew off target and struck me in the left side of the chest. My enchanted vest stopped the bullet halfway through. There had also been too much gunpowder, causing both I and my assailant to stagger backwards.
As I fell back into the room I crashed into both Viral and the man he was grappling with; who had managed to get the cat off his face and start fighting back. As we lay in a heap on the floor I whipped out my perk and poured all four bullets out at the bald man. He dodged the first with ease, but the second one caught him on the shoulder. There was a red stream, similar to wine flowed from his shoulder as it jerked back. The third caught him on the right of his throat and he stumbled towards Aaron, steadying himself on the edge of Aaron's seat. Then the final bullet hit him in the hip and he collapsed onto Aaron, who woke up screaming.
Aaron threw the dying man off of him and ran to the door, seeing me clutching a smoking perk. "Worst. Wake-up call. Ever..." He rasped through gritted teeth. I allowed myself a chuckle, it felt good to laugh. Then the man who had disarmed me stepped in front of Aaron, pointing his knife at him in a clumsy manner.
I saw my opportunity and kicked him in the back of the leg. He dropped to his knees, moaning in pain. Aaron followed this up by striking him in the side of the head forcing him to crash to the floor like a redwood with an axe in its side. Then we turned on the man with the broken jaw. He dropped his broken nice in surrender and was raised his hands when a man with a black eye who was plainly his twin ran out of Secret and Linx's room, followed swiftly by one of Secret's arrow. He ran out crying "WE'RE LEAVING THIS CRAZY TRAIN! COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!"
He pushed past me and Aaron and towards the door leading out of the back of the train. Soon he was followed by his three friends. Linx was the first to react, rolling out of his room, musket in hand, and shooting the one nearest the end in between the shoulders. He fell with a thud. Secret stumbled out after him, clasping his bow in one hand, pulling up his trousers with the other. We pursued them as swiftly as we could, reaching the door jut in time to see the last one jumping into a carriage that was rushing along beside the train. The paint was matt black. The velvet interior was that of richest purple. The handles of the open doors were of the shiniest bronze. Within we saw a man with a top hat and court attire. The brim of his hat was pulled low, covering his eyes and casting a shadow over the rest of his face. At his side lay a ceremonial golden sword. This had been the mark of an officer in the Thaumic-Endling army during the Onslaught. "Either Dominus has decided to really stretch his recruitment range or someone from the Onslaught has a grudge. Falcon might have done it I suppose, but they'd have to have some animosity for me to come out of hiding. Who could it be? He is dead, that's for certain. Israphel never really acknowledged my existence and I wasn't well-known enough. Or was I? Plus he's locked in a prison somewhere in Mojang. Worth is a possibility, although he never was formally enlisted. Arden, Mercer and Quintus are also possibilities too. All of the others are dead or being held in the Farlands. Who on Earth is it? My mind raced, unsure of what was going on.
That's when I saw the black, shrivelled arm with its fingers like talons, and the glassy purple eye. He was alive. My worst fears had been confirmed. I stood there gawping as he gestured for one of his thugs to close the doors before Linx could put a round into the room or Secret an arrow. And thus they slammed shut, Secret's explosive arrow exploding off of the door, amazingly leaving little but scorch marks. The figure inside made a gesture as if he were tipping his hat to us respectfully, and the carriage fell behind until it was little more than a black blot on the horizon, silhouetted by the crack of dawn..
"Kay?" Asked Viral, unsettled by my sudden comatose appearance. "What's wrong?"
"Hamish..." I uttered, the two syllables burning my mouth like acid. I rubbed the burn wounds on my throat. I turned. Viral and Linx looked confused but Secret and Aaron knew my dread, and shared it. I prayed that we could lose him before we reached Mojang. We would pick up British and Gracey and leave before anything else Hamish-related happened. Whatever was going on, it just gained a new dimension of terror. My old foe had returned, and he was out for blood...
Part 2: A Glimpse
I tried in vain to pull myself to my feet, feeling my strength slowly sap from the wound on my side. The great stained-glass window facing out over the city was shattered in 6 places, where the Family had crashed through. I could not believe The Kingdom's betrayal. No. The Craft's Betrayal. it. It was my betrayal I couldn't believe. We weren't prepared for this. Not at all.
The mighty mahogany door was incinerated, melted almost. The great glass chandelier lay in pieces on the floor, next to the bare podium where the book had just lain. The granite walls were lacking their lustre, appearing faded and verging on shapeless, yet also filled with a sense of impending doom, since the disappearance of The Family, as if the building were both saddened and angry. Perhaps it was my imagination going wild in my moment of defeat. Dominus had won. I at the very least was defeated. I could not allow Void to fall as well.
I managed to get to my knees. I looked around. The Gaians were gathered in a circle, surrounded by a mix of Dominus' men and the guards of the True Court. Key and his small band of men hand gathered around me in a last ditch attempt at defence. Jolly lay limply on the floor, unconscious and with a great welt on his brow but breathing. Tauto stood by him, fending off those who came too near, until he was struck in the hip by a spear. He fell by his brother's side, crying in pain. Komplex was nowhere to be seen, nor Atreidon. They had stayed behind to slow Jeb's advance upon us.
Most tragically of all, Void stood by the wall behind me. His arms were raised in reluctant surrender, staff lying uselessly by his feet on the floor. His eyes were filled with nothing but hopelessness. Around him stood Dominus', Raven (I still wonder who she really is) and a number of Jeb's bodyguards. All pointed weapons at Void's throat, all intent on killing him should he try to escape. Jeb himself stood by the door, gingery hair hanging in dreadlocks around his chiselled and weatherworn face. By his side was Dinner Bone, hunched over, balding, wrinkled, drooling, idiotic and just about any other words that describe my outrage about his bloody idiotic legislations. I wondered why Jeb was so devoted to wiping out the Southern Thaums yet allowed this monster to live.
There was a clattering noise and the weapons of Komplex, Vacar and Atreidon came skittering across the floor. The Blind Watcher, my old master, was a good 8 feet tall, putting him a full head larger than even Komplex (roughly 7 feet tall). His shoulders were broad, like a bull's, with hi foes lung over them. His arms were bulging with muscles His raw umber hair was chin length and unruly and tangled as a rose bush. At the end of his triangular chin was a well kept goatee. His facial features looked like they were carved sharply out of marble. He wore his now iconic obsidian armour; his bedrock plated broadsword at his side. His eyes were what struck me most. They were like blank slates of quartz, shining like the moon. They were blank but filled with knowledge beyond that of human comprehension. Right now they were filled with sadness as they fell upon me, the faithful lapdog.
Then there was Zerg, the beast himself. The best way I can describe him is as built like Herobrine with a sky-blue-painted boiled egg for a head and as few defining features as possible. Apart from an eneven blond beard that gave the illusion of cheese stuck to a pizza-cutter and a pair of abnormally pointy ears his face was pretty unmemorable. However he had a twisted air of menace around him. His staff was held loosely by the end, being used to direct soldiers like an insane conductor leading a sinister orchestra.
"Void." Came Jeb's malice-filled voice. "Do you choose to plea guilty? If you do I assure you there will be a fair-ish trial and you will be allowed to live. However, should you choose to deny your guilt now, I will have you committed to an insane asylum and killed in a horrible accident. Your legacy with be systematically ripped apart and you yourself will become a foul taste in the mouths of your people. Choose wisely..." This was one of the things I couldn't help but find irritating about Jeb, his ability to circumvent his own laws. He was a good man at heart but he constantly exploited genius loopholes in his laws whilst catching anyone else who attempted to use them in the act.
"I plea guilt-" Void was about to make a huge mistake and therefore I stopped him from doing so. I pushed through the line of Dominus' troops and stood in front of Void, arms spread out as if they would somehow shield him from Jeb's vengeance. I was expendable, Cossack, Abb, or one of the others could easily take my place.
"NO!" I cried, staring Jeb straight in the eye. Seeing that I had grabbed his attention, I spoke as quickly as I could. "I claim full responsibility for the night's events! It was an ill-fated effort to discredit Dominus, possibly gaining myself some political leverage in the process. Void was unaware until the effort was already underway; even then he tried to stop us. He was actually in the process of stopping us when tweedle-dumbinus and tweedle-downright-insane decided to blow the bloody door off. My agents panicked and fled into the night and I was rendered unconscious until a few moments ago, unable to give the order to surrender."
He contemplated this for a few moments, before being ripped from his thoughts by Zerg, who looked furious. "Lord Jeb! This man questions my sanity and that angers me for blatantly obvious reasons. I care not of his past service and the fact that he's gained a certain amount of fame for his exploits during the Onslaught. He dares to insult me and has disgraced this good house! Allow me to fight this man in a traditional pankration. Allow me to teach him his place."
He was eloquent in speech, I'll give him that. If I were in Jeb's position I would have believed him. Jeb seemed reluctant to allow more blood-shed in this supposedly sacred hall, but nodded his assent. "No use of your abilities as a moderator Zerg. Sword-play and hand-to-hand fighting until someone surrenders or is knocked out. No gouging of eyes, removal of limbs, or fatal wounds from either side. Those are the rules, you may begin."
Zerg and I drew swords and bowed respectfully. I felt a cold bead of sweat roll cautiously down my temple, like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. Then a nameless herald yelled "GO!" and we rushed each other.
Zerg made the first move, bringing his sword down hard on my sword-arm, hoping to disarm me early in the fight. I however, had predicted the move, and held my sword with the edge pointed at the base of his blade. My blade bit into the steel razor-like blade, cutting almost all the way through. With a quick twist I drove my shoulder into Zerg's chest, knocking him backwards and snapping the blade from its hilt. It fell to the floor with a defeated clang. I advanced as my opponent tossed his useless weapon to the side and got into a crude fighting position; he was evidently inexperienced in real combat. "This is going to be easier than I thought." was all that could come to mind.
In hind-sight I shouldn't have taken that bait, tantalising as it was. The fisherman lured me in with that stance like it were chum, and I were a shark. I rushed straight at him, jaws open and ready to clench down on his neck. Then he royally hit me on the nose, sending Amicus flying from my hand, embedding it in one of the many great bookshelves around the room. He followed this up with a blow to my jaw. I however, was angered at being robbed of my prey and mercilessly boxed him thrice in the face with my right arm. Then I threw a blow into his gut, making the wind fly from his lungs in terror and his throat to exude a satisfying grunt. He staggered a few steps, doubled-over like a hunch-back and panting hoarsely like a sick dog.
I advanced slowly, and stopped, standing tall over my injured opponent, feeling invincible. I readied to strike him in the side of the head, and cement my victory. Then he spoke in his ever-so-slightly slurred, voice that was like the dull roar of thunder. "I know your type..." He began thus, the wind returning to his lungs and beginning to straight slowly, at roughly the pace of a coffin being lowered into a grave. I struck him in the jaw heavily but did not even low his rise until he was staring me in the eye.
"You're confident." He continued with a slow mocking note entering his voice. I struck him again but he still went on, "You're enthusiastic." I struck him twice in the face and once in the stomach as he began walking towards me. "But you are also arrogant..." He caught my next blow did not let go even as I began punching him in the nose fruitlessly, not even bruising it. "You think you can both take on and change the world on your own." He began crushing my hand, causing me to cry in pain and fall me my knees as blood began to run between his fingers. "I was once like you I suppose." He struck me across the face, causing me to fall sideways, holding my arm firmly behind my back and twisting it. He laughed coldly as I fought back tears. "Before they taught me otherwise." He then dislocated my arm swiftly and brutally before tossing me limply to the floor. I felt pain surge through my veins and I let out another roar of pain. "Now I pass on the lesson to you." He grabbed me by the throat, lifting me to the throats, speaking through insane chuckles. "People like us just don't succeed in life. Do you know why?" He looked for an answer from my weak figure. He was plainly angered by my lack of responsiveness for he roared, "DO YOU KNOW WHY?!"
I let out a small, "No..." My voice quivering with pain.
That's when he began laughing that uncontrollable, insane chortle. That laugh that chilled me down to the base of my spine. In that laugh I heard death, and hell followed with it. "I'll tell you why. We have too much DIGNITY!" He tossed me at the fire-place like a rag-doll. My back crashed into the limestone mantel with a sickening crunch. I saw Aaron and Bokane staring at me, tears running down their faces as they watched me in this helpless position. I hit the floor with a thud, followed by the jingling of armour.
"We have too high a regard for our own wellbeing. To be taught to humble, and therefore surpass ourselves, we must lose our dignity. Do you understand?" Zerg continued, continuing his endless laughter. I simply stared through him, feeling that there was nothing more he could do to me. "I see you do not. I evidently haven't proved my point, how about a more permanent reminder of this lesson is in order." He reach for a brand with the rune for "Thaum" from a basket beside the fire, before heating it in the heart of the flames. This was a step too far for me. I attempted to cry out my surrender but had the muscles in my throat paralysed with a sharp kick in the throat. I attempted to get up and fight but was stomped upon, being held to the ground by Zerg's weight. He slowly pushed the brand towards my forehead. I, in a desperate frenzy grabbed the shaft of the brand and attempted to push it back. "Go ahead worm, squirm like your wizard friend did! Squirm!" He cried maniacally, all the time laughing that cold, cruel laugh.
Then, just as the brand was about to reach the skin of my forehead, the world exploded for a second time that night.
part 2: The Carnival
The twang of mandolins and the glow of lamps set the scene for the great carnival. Rose petals and weak rain-drops fluttered down in the light wind, landing on my cheeks as a butterfly does; with grace and delicacy. Even the drizzle couldn't dampen the jovial feeling of the day. The Fireworks went off in that black velvet blanket of a sky, showering the city with sparks of richest gold, blue and white. Banners hung shamelessly from the windows and from house to house. Posters emblazoned the walls and paints adorned the faces of the peasants. All carried the same crest, the golden cross and blue and white colours of the True Court. The speech made by Jeb on this fabled night had sent the people into a frenzy of patriotism. I, despite my Thaumic roots was greatly affected by the speech, taking pride in the part I had played in the tale he told. He told of the Battle of Zine Craft, or, the Month of Revelations as many had chosen to name it.
Zine Craft was eleven years ago to the day. Tonight was the celebration of the Battle for Zine Craft, part of last week of the Annual Gathering. The Annual Gathering was the closest thing the land had to a parliament. The leaders of all the included Crafts and Great Families would attend to debate issues of importance for one month. At the top of the agenda was the problem of Dominus, who was gathering support for a full-scale invasion of the Vanilla Craft and his instatement as an Administrator. It was mad, but what scared me was that people were listening to him.
None of this came to my mind however as I and the others watched a travelling Thaumic magician blow into a ball of light, spraying harmless purple fire over the crowd. Then a bit of old Western Thaumic folk music came on (similar to that you might associate with gypsies) and he start a form of rhythmic juggling routine with fire-balls of various colours. As it progressed it grew faster and faster, and the fireballs began to blur into a strange multi-coloured ring. Then the illusionist clapped his hands together over his head and the ring disappeared altogether. He then blew into his palms and out came a fiery dragon of shimmering blue and white, with a gold cross on its chest. It was the symbol of the True Court of Mojang, this was a sign of extreme patriotism.
Then the little party was crashed. Eight men in the garb of Inquisition soldiers showed up, surrounding the poor illusionist's caravan. The illusionist's normally cheerful old wife retreated to the caravan, hurrying their children inside, face contorted with terror. Then out of the crowd stepped Hamish. My eyes widened as I saw my enemy in the crimson armour of The Inquisition, a few of his goons mixed in with assumedly real Mojang soldiers. I was incredulous of how they could allow such a blatant Endling into the Inquisition (half of his face being covered with the coal-black skin of an Endling, along with a glassy purple eye). Then I remembered that most veterans of the Great Onslaught had sustained burn wounds similar to the skin of an Endling from encounters with the Endlings. Hamish could just claim to be a burn victim as he had been a plant in the Mojang army during the Onslaught. He gave me a smug look before turning to the trembling magician, who was being restrained by two burley soldiers, including the man who's jaw I dislocated on the train a week prior.
Hamish spoke with his thick Southern outland accent (which sounds like a mix between Welsh and Scottish). "Papers?" There was a machine-like dryness in his voice.
"Sorry, what?" came the trembling, high voice of his victim.
"Your papers? Where are they?" The rise of rage in Hamish's voice barely hid the satisfaction he evidently held in tormenting this man.
"Ah! Yes..." The magician fumbled in his pocket for a piece of paper. He held it out and Hamish snatched it away grumpily.
"Hang on. This has expired." Hamish was relishing his position now, enjoying every last corrupt moment of it.
"B-but I got it renewed just two weeks ago! W-when did it expire?" The magician was in a state of mania now. I wanted to go out and break Hamish's snide little jaw.
"As of now." He, smirking from ear to ear took the papers and tore them in half, throwing them into the damp gutter amidst the cobbled stones. He turned to his gang of thugs and shouted. "Burn the place to the ground. If the family doesn't leave by the time I count to ten do not let them out. One. Two. Three."
The Mother began to hurry her children out as the fires started. There were cries of terror from the peasants, then they seemed to have a moment of realisation and they began to cheer on Hamish and his men. Hamish’s smug face was menacingly lit by the orange flames. The magician gaped in horror as his livelihood went up in flames. Then he turned and faced Hamish with a fiery glare. "You're a monster." It was all he could say in his rage. He was trembling with fury all over. His face was so red it was a wonder he wasn't giving off steam as the rain spattered it.
"If you say so." Hamish's smirk was sickening enough, let alone the fact that the crowd began to cheer at this remark. He lifted the cane he was leaning on up and knocked the man's bowler hat off, revealing a bald, wrinkled head with small grey tufts of hair appearing around the edges. "Pick it up." His voice was that of cruel kindness. The old man maintained his glare. "Pick. It. up." Hamish tried again, anger rising in his voice as it had in the old man’s voice. Still no response. The crowd had fallen into a disgusted silence. But it was not directed at Hamish, but at the old magician. "PICK IT UP!" Hamish punched him square in the jaw. The old man looked like he was about to strike back but then saw the soldiers around him reach for their weapons.
He grudgingly bent over to pick up the soggy hat. However as he began to rise to a standing position again he was cracked on the side of the head by Hamish's cane. The old man's head crunched into the ground, and a small trickle of blood began flowing from the corner of his mouth. Hamish kicked him in the gut and his victim emitted a whimper. "Take him and his family down to the chapter house. Charge them with lack of papers, illegal use of Thaumic magic, and refusal to cooperate with scheduled inspections."
The crowd let out a cheer as the guards began to drag the magician and his screaming family away. I reached for my blade and readied to draw it. However, before it could be withdrawn, I felt someone place a robust hand on my shoulder and a familiar voice whispered "Not now young Mandy. The time is not yet nigh." I turned, to find no one behind me, and a feeling that something had just been pressed deeply into my pocket. I turned and Hamish was gone. The crowd had started chanting one slur or another and followed Hamish to the prison. Another chance wasted.
I cursed under my breath and looked around, searching for my comrades. No sign of anyone. However as I turned I noticed a familiar face sitting laxly at a table in front of a bar. There sat the administrator, Void, gazing calmly at me, a cigar in his left hand and dressed in tattered grey robes.
I shoved through the crowd to the old administrator. Pulling out a wooden chair I sat down opposite him. I spoke first. "Has following me become a trend or something? It seems that everyone wants to do it. Viral; Hamish; Ryan; I'm pretty sure I've seen a few blokes from the Brotherhood following me too." My voice was pointed but lax enough to dispel any idea of direct complaint.
Void chuckled and leant forward. "Look behind you.” He whispered. “You see the young blond bloke in the blue suit? The one failing at being inconspicuous in every possible aspect?" I turned to see the man accidentally knock over a stack of chicken crates he had been hiding behind and hide behind a fish merchant's stall.
"Yes." I was struggling to suppress laughter.
"He's been following you for four hours straight. He obviously works for someone. I was supposed to meet someone here but they have been held up. I was wondering if you were up to doing some work for the Craft?"
"Always ready. I'll be on it right away." My excitement at having an important job to do was evident.
"Hang on. You'll need more than one person. I want someone to follow Hamish who won't attempt to gut him at the first possible opportunity."
"You're in luck, Cossack just arrived. HEY! COSS! Get over here." He turned to face me avidly. Then he saw the presence of Void and his face fell, feeling that his brief leisure was about to end.
"Yes Kay?" He asked drolly.
"Tell Brit and Gracey that they are to follow Hamish. I'm sure they'll appreciate their first assignment as agents of the Kingdom." I stated kindly.
Cossack's face lightened and he asked "Any chance of more information?"
"Once we carry this out maybe. For now just have a good time. Enjoy the carnival."
"Okay Kay. I'll see you later. Try not to die." Chuckled Cossack.
"Well, you've now got one of the finest spies and one of the finest pick-pockets I have at my disposal on Hamish's tail. And I will follow the man you pointed out. Not bad eh Void?" There was silence as I stared at the sky. "Void?" I turned my head and he was gone. I cursed under my breath. "Can't he just say when he's going to leave instead of doing the whole mystical vanishing act to make me feel stupid?" Thought I grumpily.
I waited for about twenty minutes, attempting to appear inconspicuous. The man in blue remained, always staring. I was about to confront him when he checked his watch, appeared startled, and began walking away at a brisk pace. That was my cue to move. I got up casually and followed the man. I was glad to be on the hunt again, getting back to my days as an informant. That's what I was, dress me up with whatever title you like. Airman. General. Criminal. King. It didn't matter at all to me. I had always been an informant at heart and that's what I would always end up being. The eyes and ears of your enemy. The man in the shadows. The fly on the wall. The leech on your heel.
That's when he looked back and saw me. He pushed past a man in a brown cloak - probably some sort of monk - and broke into a run. I sprinted after him, bumping into the man in the brown cloak briefly, knocking him down. I turned and offered quick apologies as his hood fell back to reveal a proud looking grey-haired old man with a handle-bar moustache, slicked back hair and an arrogant scowling face. He looked a tad bit posh for a monk but then again, many members of the Great Houses were heavily religious, and it was not unheard of for them to become monks in their later years (if only as a political move). I began to run again as he offered me the traditional obscenities of angry monks. He grabbed my sleeve briefly in an attempt to stop me but I shook him off easily and ran onwards.
Our chase continued for the next two streets, us pushing through crowds and dodging various (almost comic) obstacles, including; an old lady; two men carrying a sheet of glass across the road; a man with a ladder who liked turning around way too quickly and a falling safe. All the while the rain thickened, to the point where thunder began booming, and lightning flashed with terrifying gusto. Then, as I drew close to my prey, it turned and fled down an alleyway. I stopped as quickly as I could, tripping and falling on the damp, slippery cobblestones. I pulled myself up and pushed through a few revellers to follow him. He led me on a chase down four sub-alleyways and then I was able to catch him as he ran into a dead end.
Before him was a brick wall about 6 foot high. I stopped, drew Amicus, pointed it at him and shouted "Stop in the name of Gaia!" as authoritatively as I could. However, instead of surrendering to my absolute awesomeness, he attempted (fruitlessly) to climb the wall. I leisurely strolled up and tugged him down, causing him to gasp for air as he slammed face-first into the ground. I turned him over, placed my foot on his stomach and crouched, pulling him up by the collar of his now sullied white shirt. Rain fell on his face in globules, giving a blotchy quality to it. He wheezed, looking defeated. His blond fringe was stained with blood from an open wound on his forehead. His flattened nose allowed a constant stream of red to flow from the right nostril. He wheezed, looking defeated.
I punched him across the jaw. "Who do you work for?" I asked as coldly as I could. For a moment he looked like he was about to break, then he began laughing in a triumphant manner. I punched him again and was about to reiterate the question when something hard and metal struck me in the side of the head. My legs buckled and I fell off of the informant.
I saw the crowbar fall with a clatter beside me as I lay in a total daze. I saw a burley looking man pick up the informant and walk off with him. I felt warm blood flow from my mouth onto the damp disgusting cobblestones. I lifted my head drowsily. There were 4 grey blurs of men were standing over me, holding crude clubs and shivs. One of them stood our from the crowd, for his face shone white. Then my vision cleared slightly, and I saw a familiar quartz mask. "Hello Kay. We have some unfinished business to attend to." Came a disturbingly familiar voice.
Part 4: Behind the Mask
I struggled against my bonds like a cat would when you attempt to give it a bath; ungraciously; without dignity; lashing out and spitting at anything that came near. They had left me in the room a few minutes ago, with the instruction to wait for their boss, whom I assumed to be the man with the white mask. I personally was sceptical of it being Starletts, however I was not dismissing the possibility of it being him just yet. They had fooled us with the fake Ray trick before, and it wasn't unlikely that they'd do the same for him. For all I know the little fiasco at Aegis just a few weeks prior had just been an elaborate ruse to remove Ray from the picture.
I continued to wrestle with my bonds and I must say, they pinned me every round. The fact that I was tied to a wheelchair was making the process even more irritating, with me constantly rolling back and forth. Then I twisted my wrist inwards, attempting desperately to pick open the bonds. That's when my wrist spasmed in pain and warm blood rolled down from the bottom of my palm. I fumbled with my numb fingers and found that someone had slipped a small razor blade into the cuff of my sleeve. Whether this was intended or not it was still a blessing. I tugged it out and began to saw at my bonds. I was so jovial I didn't question who could have done it, dismissing it on an old habit I had developed before the Onslaught. Back when I was conspiring against Worth I had taken to hiding razor blades in my sleeves so that should a guard find me and catch me by the sleeve, he would have an unpleasant surprise.
We were in some sort of church bell-tower, with the pale light of dawn shining through a light mist. I based this assumption on the stained glass windows; and a large brass chime hanging over a hole in the floor. Behind me there was a small wooden trap door, accessed by a rickety old ladder. Circling the tower was a small, automated hydrogen balloon telling people to, "Join the army, for God and Empire!" I scoffed for two reasons. For starters they were using hydrogen balloons, a highly volatile contraption with a tendency to burst into flames. The other reason was that Jeb still had his people believing that they had an empire. The domain of the True Court was a loose conglomeration. They had very little direct control aside from the admittedly sizable territory of Mojang in the centre of their influence; a few military bases in the Outlands; a large Naval/Air force base on the Arcadian Peninsula; and the remains of Zine Craft, which were off limits to the public.
Then the door swung open and out walked my captor. Quartz mask shining and purple cape flowing he stood in front of me. In his right hand he clasped the sheathed Amicus. In his left he pointed my perk at the head of its master. To his right was a burley looking bloke holding a black sulphur lamp in a dangerously clumsy manner. I don't understand the exact chemistry of it, but just about anything made these lamps go boom. "Hello Kay." Said that familiarly high voice.
"Hello Quintus." Replied I.
"How did you guess?" He responded. Plainly taken aback.
"You still have that bloody tattoo on your wrist. I don't know anyone else who has a tattoo of their ex-wife's severed head on their wrist, with the caption "Wishing you ill"." I criticised.
Quintus pulled back his hood and mask to reveal greying black hair, and a wrinkled face with purple tribal tattoos. His pale face was sombre and lifeless. The mask clattered sadly to the floor. Everything about him looked defeated. Silence had entered the tower, and stayed, relishing its good work.
"Why were you wearing that ridiculous mask? You scared me half to death. I thought you were a slightly less dangerous psychopath for a second there." Jested I, attempting to break silence's grip on the room. I successfully freed us, for Quintus laughed almost longingly. However his death-like appearance returned swiftly and he spoke.
"It is a monument to all my sins," He looked at it, voice trembling as he did so. He sounded like he was both terrified and in horrible pain. Then his eyes filled with decided rage and he smashed it underfoot. "And a mark of my slavery no longer." There was an unexplainable mix of iciness and triumph in his voice as he stared at the powdered remains. He looked like he was about to continue on an equally mysterious note so I stopped him.
"Is there a purpose for this pleasant outing or are you just hear to monologue symbolically?" My tone was dry. Hopefully dry enough to make him get to the point.
He was about to speak when the trapdoor opened again. Out came the informant whom I had chased down roughly, lets say four hours earlier. He wore a bandage on his forehead and his hair was still dirty. He opened his mouth and said this, "Sir, the Inquisition are on their way. Their being led by the Endling."
Quintus was almost as panicked as I was. Hamish finding me in a vulnerable position was not ideal. I began to saw through again, not caring who saw. Quintus stammered. "Er... Y-y-you get back to the warehouse. We'll m-meet you th-there in t-t-two days." He smiled as confidently as he could before nodding to the boy to leave.
He cursed angrily the second the child was out of sight. "No. Its too early! There isn't enough time." He turned to me. "Guarantee to me that I will be remembered as a hero." There were tears of rage in his eyes.
"What?" He struck me, and crouched down, pulling me up to face him by the scarf.
"GUARENTEE IT!" He was like an animal.
"Yes..." I mumbled uncomfortably, breaking free of my bonds and trying to push him back gently.
His vision seemed to clear and a single tear trickled down his withered face. He pressed a small scroll into my hand. "Finish the fight." Then something ricocheted off the chime, letting out a great clang. Whatever it was then struck Quintus in the side of the head.
As his legs buckled I grabbed Amicus from his side and ran at the window, batting the thug to the side. I crashed out, shielding my face wish my arms. Before I knew it my arms were coated in open wounds as fragmented glass cut into them. Then, as I crashed into the balloon, the lamp was shattered, and the tower engulfed in flames. The balloon was sent careening towards the graveyard due to a mix of both my weight and the forced of the blast. The back of my shirt was singed by flames and torn by glass.
Then, just as my feet began to brush the ground, I let go. After rolling briefly I jumped behind the nearest tombstone. I waited for the bang, covering my ears with my hands and tucking my form in behind the grave Thankfully, as the balloon crashed into the ground, the hydrogen inside did not catch fire and cause the balloon to burst. I allowed myself a sigh or relief.
I looked over to the right, and could just make out a group of men in scarlet uniforms. Hamish had gathered up the remains of Quintus' gang, organising a firing squad. They weren't using bows or muskets, as per tradition, but simply four men with "smelters" as they were called. Smelters were one of the strange ancient weapons of the True Court, a closely guarded secret that no-one quite understood, not even the divines anymore. All we did know was that they were built like small battering rams; spat blue fire that surpassed the temperatures generated by the black fireballs from Astro and Bokane's notes; and that they could basically melt a man in a few minutes. Hamish did the traditional count from three (smiling sadistically as he did so) and the men were engulfed in blue flame. Hamish's darkly happy face was illuminated in blue light through the fog. There was a series of shouts and then the flames stopped.
Hamish had given the gesture his men to stop while the men were still rare. Most of them were still alive, groaning and crying in agony. Hamish stood over them chuckling, so giddy that he was practically dancing with glee at his good work. Then, as he proceeded to stomp on the dying men, I reluctantly staggered off, hoping to find my way back to the Gaian encampment.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Chapter 3: A Double-Edged Blade
Part 5: A meeting
I sat on the stool stiffly, still blood occasionally dripping down my back as ABB clumsily attempted to stitch me up. It wasn't ideal, I was in a lot of pain and ABB obviously wasn't the most artful at what she was doing. However, she was the best field medic we could muster; without calling in some doctor from the civilian encampment outside the city who would charge lavish amounts for confining me to a room for weeks on end. She got the job done and usually did it well enough.
I spared a moment to take in the room. The morning sun sneaked in through the iron bars at the back of the room, only daring to illuminate the edges of the door in its efforts to remain undetected. The room had once been a kitchen, but was now ABB's private surgery. With cupboards
Then Cossack burst into the room, with Brit, Gracey, Tejmin and Mini following him. At this ABB jumped, painfully tearing the skin and letting another rush of blood to let loose. I groaned in pain.
"Oh be quiet Kay." ABB scolded. "I've branded pigs that squealed less than you."
I smiled wryly and turned my head as far as I dared. "And I've encountered creepers with better hand-eye coordination."
The party of men had just entered chortled at the exchange of insults. When ABB finished her work and went to clean her utensils I looked up at them and inquired. "Are my orders being carried out properly?"
"Well we executed four vagrants if that's any help?" Cossack replied.
"What?!" I asked shocked, spitting out the milk that I had conveniently been drinking. "Cossack if you've been on one of your anti-poor tirades agai-"
"Kidding!" Cossack cried nervously "Kidding..." He then muttered something to Tejmin that sounded a lot like, "Make it look like an accident." At this Tej scowled and thumped him.
"So yes. We have started acting out your orders. I sent out the order to keep tabs on Hamish. However, as yet he isn't up to his usual tricks. He's sadistic and murderous yes, but those men you saw him murder were all unregistered Southern Thaums, all issued a death warrant by Dinner Bone himself."
"In Notch's name is there anything that man isn't able to cock up!" I burst out in anger.
"On the bright side." Tejmin interjected. "The Order are on top form, all are equipped with the new light-weight bronze armour and the old rubbish is fetching a decent price on the market. Also, recruitment is going well, received five new people willing to serve in the Order." Tejmin was a personal friend of Key's, who had jumped ship and formed a close bond with Linx. However, despite his excellence, he was constantly outshone by his friends. As Linx was on vacation he was especially eager to prove himself as an effective leader in the eyes of myself and the Council.
"You're Key and Linx's friend aren't you? Tejmin?" I inquired casually.
"Yes sir." Tej was obviously pleased at being recognised.
"You were also friends with Dawz weren't you?"
He hung his head sadly. "Yes sir. We knew each other for but a short time, yet he made a lasting impact on me."
"I'm sorry, he was a good man. I'm told you are too. Do him proud in your service." I said reassuringly, smiling gently.
"Thank you sir." His spirits picked up a little.
"Now, you are dismissed."
He bowed lightly and left. I felt a true sense of pity. Dawz had been a loss to all of the Order but I knew the story with Tej and Dawz. Tej, not being a true Gaian experienced a lot of prejudice from the other members of the Order. Prior to that the Order had been "pure". Tej was the first foreign member other than Linx but, unlike Linx, he had not saved all of their rear ends and survived a 100ft drop into the fires of hell. Dawz had been the only one to extend the hand of friendship and fend off those who sought to torment his new-found friend. He had sworn vengeance when Dawz was slain at the Great Forum. He seemed to have dropped this since the capture of Starletts but it was still a good idea to keep him away from any information concerning the Overlord.
I turned to the others, eager to find out what was happening with my other orders. "Brit, you next. Any leads on the sniper?" I had placed him in charge of this because he was the new chief armourer. He had also brought a large number of experimental fire-arms into the city with him, as well as a large database of True Court military records he had stolen during the Onslaught. He was also a renowned bounty hunter and private eye. If anyone could determine who this mysterious sniper was, it was him. A thin wiry man in a pale cream suit, stepped forward.
"We have a pretty good idea of the circumstances." His voice was gruff and his great black handle-bar moustache crinkled as he spoke. "There was a sniper on the roof of a courthouse at least 200 imperial metres away. There's only four makes of weaponry I know of that could 'ave made that shot. Two are of me and Gracey's design. Another, is Lord Dinner Bone's personal hunting rifle (I'd love to get my hands on that). The last, is a personal signature from a group of elite sharp-shooters that served under direct command from Notch durin' the Onslaught. Une moment." He took a pause and rummaged delicately (or at least as delicately as one can when they rummage) in the satchel he always kept at his side.
"Do you need any help?" Mini asked helpfully, but Brit shook his head in an irritable manner.
Then the edge of a profile folder appeared. I saw the name "Hank Redmond" appear on the edge as Brit delicately slid out the folder. "God he's awfully precious about his stash. Does he intend to be buried with it or something?" I thought impatiently.
"Here." He laid the file open in my lap. "Hank "Husk" Redmond. Was the best damn sniper at Mojang's disposal in the Onslaught. Last person with sufficient skill to use such a weapon with that level of efficiency left from that squad."
"I know that name." I interjected, puzzled. My eyebrows furrowed in concentration as I tried to remember where I had heard the name.
"You should. He tried to kill Herobrine. You," He put special emphasis on the last word. "Took the bullet."
"Ah yes..." I rubbed the ragged scar on my side as I remembered the incident in question.
"On the 14th January, 1864 P.G.T (Prior to the Great Taint), he was blinded by a flash mine during the reclaiming of Arcadia. He never recovered, and blamed the True Court for his injury due to bad intelligence. He spent the remaining two years of the Onslaught in a desk job, 'e was awarded two medals afterwards by Jeb himself." He sighed in an irritated manner as if he couldn't believe what happened next. "He very publically refused the awards and gravely insulted Jeb. After this he was dishonourably discharged. Then he went to retired in the Vanilla Craft. Thing is, he never reached the Craft. He vanished on the border." He looked up at me and I at him. "A few months later Huskers, the blind prophet, surfaced."
"You've got to be bloody kidding me Brit!" I burst out in irritation, spreading my arms in a defeated manner. "Another Complex? Is there anything else I should know about? How do you even know its Huskers"
He looked reluctant to continue and gestured to an uncomfortable looking Gracey, who was tugging his collar nervously. Gracey made silent protest but gave in when Brit gave him one of his now famous glares. He stepped forwards nervously, mop of brown hair hanging low over his right eye and his goatee seeming to cling onto his narrow chin for dear life.
His voice had a hint of reluctance and grumpiness. "Hamish and the Family are working together. Huskers was there. I saw them."
Panic shot through me. My mortal enemy and a group of psychopathic military specialists working together was a concept I just couldn't bring myself to fully believe. I tried to change the subject as swiftly as possible.
"What did the note say Mini?" He seemed a little taken aback by the sudden question. In hindsight I couldn't really blame him, it was rather out of the blue. "Out with it boy!" I snapped more harshly than I would have liked.
Mini looked ever so slightly crestfallen at this sudden outburst but recomposed himself quickly, straightening his cravat as he did so. "Which one?"
"What do you mean which one?"
"The one Quintus gave you? Or the one we found rammed into your pocket? They're both quite interesting." He looked smug at his mild advantage over me.
"First the one Quintus gave me. We'll deal with the mystery letter after."
"Well its an address, with the message "Hope this is useful XOXO" written down." Mini smiled, biting his bottom lip as if he were getting to the punch line of a particularly clever joke.
"Send the Order to deal with that. But first tell me was seems to amuse you so before your head explodes."
He pulled out a second note and smoothed out the creases holding the paper back as far from him as he could. As he read he held his held back so as to squint down his nose in a dignified manner. He then began to read in as regal a manner as he could.
"Yo um, 'sup Kay? Im... uh... like... alive? Yeah that's the word. Alive. So yeah, you can stop worrying now... er... Meet me on that bridge in lower Arcvale after the council session in two days? I'll have some info that's, um, useful to you I guess... Yeah...
Regards,
Astro Joe"
I saw Gracey wiping a tear from his left eye in awe of the beauty of the words. I could hardly contain myself. After a moment's disbelief I leapt up, struck a triumphant pose, yelling "YES!" at the top of my lungs. I then proceeded to embrace Mini in a vice-like grip, jumping up and down in glee, continuing my cry. Mini, taken aback at my sudden outburst. He staggered back to the hallway, about to fall backwards when two highly startled guards came and prised me off of the gasping Mini. Then Aaron and Pi Thingey marched up looking confused.
Giddy with excitement I started stammering nonsensically at Aaron. The way his eyebrows raised and his face contorted in confusion suggests that it was even worse than even I remember it. Thankfully, Mini put it bluntly "Astro is coming. He's meeting us in two days."
At this, Aaron's arms shot into the air and he began to run around the encampment screaming the same cry I had let out just moments prior. Laughing at his antics as he shoved through a group of indignant order members, Pi collected himself and stated that "The escort is waiting for you King Mandy. A luxury carriage and 12 of The Void's finest fighters. Equipped in the toughest leather our limited budget can buy. I trust you will find it comfortable." He bow slightly as he spoke.
"Excellent Pi." I grinned ear to ear as I spoke. From the ground I raised myself, placing a hand firmly on Pie T's shoulder. "Give me a minute will you? Need to give some last minute orders."
He smiled and retorted. "I understand. You always were fond of that."
I chuckled heartily and turned to Cossack. "Tell Secret and Small to go to that address with ABB and the Companions. I want a full report of that building and its contents by the time I return." Cossack nodded and rushed off. "ABB you are to rally the companions for duty, you're back in action." ABB leapt for joy and followed Cossack's path. Gracey and Brit were next. "Check our arsenal, make sure nothing's been removed unduly. Also, check with Bokane and Aaron what the odds of a Hydrogen balloon not exploding after a large explosion and slamming into the ground with a man clinging on to one for dear life." Brit furrowed his thick, bushy eyebrows.
"Mechanics aren't my area of expertise Kay, but I'm fairly certain that's impossible." He sounded stunted in thought, as if something didn't quite add up.
"Quite." I responded as disinterestedly as I could as I pulled on a fresh shirt and my old scarf. The cotton felt warm against my soft skin. The sun finally stirred itself fully from its drowsiness and snuck in the windows, attempting to pretend we had simply imagined its absence as it flooded the room with light. "Well I must be off lads. I'll see you later."
A few minutes later Pi and I were standing in front of the old boarding school, which we had made into our base of operations. It had once been a central feature in this mournfully derelict part of the city, but abandoned due to gang violence during the Onslaught. Once the school left the entire district became virtually deserted and had not yet been renovated by Jeb. As a result Cossack saw fit to base the Gaian encampment in the area, stimulating the local economy, recruiting some new soldiers, renovating buildings, dealing with the gangs and generally cleaning the place up. Yes there were still some shattered windows and derelict buildings, the place still smelled weird and there was the occasional clash between drunken Gaians and the remnants of the local gangs. The proud brick walls of the orphanage shone red in the sunlight. A cool breeze ran through the school-yard in front of that mighty building. The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with small cotton clouds. The Tower of Mojang stood tall against the sunlight, its mighty quartz frame making it look like a pillar of white flame, as the airships floated around it like moths circling a lamp.
All over the courtyard the Gaians bustled two and fro. Men clad in bronze and steel shifted crates from the forge to the storehouse. In the forge men with hammers pounded strips of metal into shape as sweat trickled from their hazy faces. Workers in overalls waterproofed the wooden walls of the "Citadel" as it was called. The walls were not much, simply barricades made of various wooden objects from the city dump. I saw flies swarming around the wagon from which they sorted out the rotting wood from the sturdy material. By the stables filled with neighing steeds was the carriage, and six armoured horses mounted by warriors of the steel-clad warriors of The Void.
The door of the carriage swung open to reveal four more warriors, all armed and ready. The interior was lavish with fine red leather and black painted wood. Pi and I climbed in. I was evidently more enthusiastic than they anticipated. For they were all eying me uncomfortably as I practically beamed. It wasn't that I was happy about where we were going, but the message had certainly gotten my spirits up. However I did mellow slightly and the uncomfortable feeling eased. Pi and I even managed to strike up some small-talk about the political situation at present.
Yet even this subsided. The reason, the city around us. The carriage had its curtains open to reveal both the splendour and the misery of Mojang, that fabled Holy City. Yes, there were the smiling faces; the constant revelry; the most wonderful minstrels in the streets; the sun like an orb of pure gold; the airships soaring high above; the Tower and all its secrets standing over the city like a great sentinel. However, there were also the many dark sides of Jeb's rule. Impoverished districts of the city were common, and the beggars of them littered the streets of the rich areas. The Inquisition was running rampant, enacting very public evictions of suspected unregistered Thaums. Gang violence between the cities various visiting factions was widespread, and the police did nothing in fear of provoking any of the visiting delegations.
Then we came within view of our target, the Tower of Mojang. Outside was a rabble of Dominus' supporters, protesting that Jeb was keeping Void protected within the Tower's walls. It hadn't taken long for Dominus to find where Void and his Moderators were holed up, and sent men to smash up the area, arrest Void, kidnap civilians and generally be massive douche bags. Due to the high numbers of civilian casualties Void asked Jeb to give him and the moderators asylum in the Tower. Dominus was outraged at this and continued to send soldiers not just to Void's old encampment to punish the "traitorous" residents for their "crime" of giving Void shelter; but also to the Tower to protest for Void's extradition.
As we approached the gates the crowd began to flock to us like a swarm of angry flies, seeing the word "Void" written on the banner hanging from the side of the carriage. Within seconds they were quite pointlessly trying to open the doors, pounding them like wood-peckers. We laughed at this but Pi drew the line when some took a woodcutter's axe to the door. He stuck his torso out the open window, shaking about the "emergency-piece-of-prop-comedy-croquet-mallet" and shouting " off! This is a rental!"
As he said this the people below saw their opportunity to "kick some ass for Dominus!" as the posters he'd pasted around the city instructed them to do. These posters portrayed Dominus shaking hands with an average man kicking a hideous creature evidently meant to portray Void up the ****. N.B. Bokane led an entertaining expedition to track down these posters and replace them with a parody version entitled "Lick Dominus' ****! Because he said so!"
So yes, Pi was being dragged out the window. After a few minutes tug of war with Pie as the rope I got fed up and cheated. I pulled out the perk strapped to my wrist and fired two shots past Pie's right ear, causing the rabble to scatter in fear and for us to pass through relatively unharmed (save a few squashed tomatoes clinging to the side of the carriage).
I stepped out and with Pi began to walk towards the Tower dungeons. I must admit I was expecting something much different, much more clichéd as we filled out the necessary papers and were given the numbers of the prison cells we were to visit. I was expecting a dark, dry dungeon, with walls of roughly hewn stone blocks. I expected rats to scuttle through the hallways, and for the air to stink of suffering. I expected to hear the screams of the tormented through iron bars as guards indiscriminately tortured them. I expected the halls to be lit by the fires of hell themselves and for the sheer enjoyment of the sadistic, warped beings that were the guards. What we saw was much worse.
As opposed to the dry, dirty, uneven stone corridors we were greeted by sterile, uniform corridors of a blindingly radiant white metal. The air, as opposed to being foul, smelled of disinfectant to a sickening extent. As opposed to rats, sombrely posed, strangely blurred beings in white robes which seemed to glide in a ghostly man up and down the hallways. This was odd as they were moving at walking speed. The iron bars were replaced by thick glass windows, some of which had great iron sheets with letterbox-like slits in them clamped down in front. The warped, hunched over beings had been substituted by about a total of four Mojang soldiers who looked far more relaxed than you'd expect. The fires instead were strips of ethereal light. However, there was one thing I got right, and even that was under-estimated. From all over the corridor came the muffled shrieks of the tormented. I tried and fail to suppress a shiver.
We walked down the hallways searching for the two cells to little avail. However, on the way I saw something familiar that was both uplifting and depressing. In a completely white room slumped a shrivelled, pale-faced man with red eyes in tattered black robes. He was chained by the arms and neck to the walls, murmuring nonsensically to himself and rocking. In his ruby glass eyes was a look of both terror and malice. His gold buttons were sullied and his white skin cracked and wrinkled like old plaster. He was dangerously thin and bony as a skeleton. His mouth had those familiar scars, which made it look like the scowl of a creeper. "How the mighty have fallen..." contemplated I. All around him were strange, blurry, faceless creatures that looked familiar. I was confused at first, but then I realised that these creatures were all around me, gliding up and down the corridors. Then the old pale-faced traitor's head shot bolt upright. Israphel had seen me.
He then began to scream something that sounded strangely like "MAKE THE VOICES STOP LAP-DOG! DO IT! MAKE THEM STOP!" Pi and I recoiled from the door as he attempted to rush at us, being stopped mere inches from the door by his bonds, and the faceless creatures. He continued to rant and rave and I continued to back away. An irritated looking guard strutted up to the door. He turned to me and said this "Why did you have to him off? How did you even do it? He hasn't been this mad since Herobrine last visited. Now we have to... discourage him. Its never very pleasant for any of us."
He murmured grimly into his sleeve something about needing "discouragement" in cell whatever. In a few seconds, the chains lit up with red lightning and the skeletal figure began to stiffen as it shot through his veins. He let out a blood-curdling shriek, and then the lightning stopped flowing and he slumped once more. Smoke rose from his body and his putrid breath began to fog up the windows. Then the iron sheet came down and we saw no more of him.
"Terribly sorry." The guard said. "He must have thought you were someone else."
"Oh no." I responded. "He simply recognised me."
The guard seemed taken aback. "Y-You were at Zine Craft?"
"Yes. I am Kay Mandy, ex-commandent of Herobrine's 10th Legion." I saluted as I spoke for the heck of it. I don't know why, I just felt like it.
The guard chuckled exasperatedly. "Wow. That explains a lot. You must recount your tales to me sometime." A note of scepticism entered his voice in the last two sentences.
"I would be glad to. And to present evidence. What is your name?"
"Thomas sir." He stood to attention, saluting as he did so. "Thomas Bone. Others call me T-Bone. Under-appreciated matron of this glorified mad-house."
I chortled. "You'll do well. You know, we could use a man like you in Gaia's house." I handed him a crudely made business card that for some reason I thought was a good method of recruitment. "Check us out when you have the time."
He smiled appreciatively. "I'll look into it. Now if you will my commanding officer is calling me."
And thus we parted. Pie and I walked down a few more corridors and then arrived at our destination. Outside was one of those faceless creatures, like all of its brethren it seemed almost dazed. touched the door and we walked in. Sitting there was a man in white hospital robes and with a wild brown mop of hair and beard. He sat on a bunk, seeming to be very deep in thought about his feet. He turned his head and saw me entering. He smiled sadly.
"Hello Kay." Came his hoarse voice.
"Hello Ray." Came my own.
"I assume either Huskers has indirectly attempted to kill you. And that Quintus has been slain before he could tell you the full story." He smirked at my brief moment of surprise but we both quickly recomposed ourselves. It was sad to see Ray in a position like this. I had always sort of regarded him as a nice guy, even when he tried to kill us. He was just a likeable guy and it was a pity he was in such a hell-hole.
"How did you guess." I pretended to express particular interest in my knuckles as I spoke.
"It's what I expected would happen. I told Quintus to look for you should he have doubts about his safety, or the validity of the plan." I was about to interrupt but he raised his finger and said. "Before you ask, Falcon and Starletts kept me as far into the dark as they could. All I know is the address he gave both of us, a few names and faces, and that this is going to be Falcon's "masterpiece". Now, bare in mind that I cannot, for your own safety, tell you all I know. If they believe you to have been told anything of significance then they will strike at you. Choose a very tight circle and stick too it. Do you understand." I nodded my head in solemn confirmation. He cleared his throat. "What do you wish to know?"
"The mask. What is it? Quintus and Starletts both wore one."
"Ah the mask. A good question. From what I have gathered the mask is part of something far larger than simply the Overlord or a personal statement by a bunch of loons. It seems to be part of a "grand stratagem" I have heard Dominus mention to Ellen a number of times. It is a plan developed by Dominus' family over decades, maybe even centuries. I know not of their methods, just the goal." He paused in a finalistic manner, staring at the ceiling as if lost in thought.
"And the goal is?" I prompted, gesturing for him to continue.
"Power. Complete and undisputed power over the True Court, with the Divines as his only superiors. No strings attached. A series of unconnected coincidences and accidents that results in him being in an unquestionable position of power."
I incredulously interjected. "Surely someone would notice?"
"You'd think they would." Ray mused. His eyes rolled as if I were an irritating child. Then, rubbing his hands together in nervous excitement he continued. "The idea is that people like the family do all the dirty work, and he is left completely unconnected to their work."
"That deplorable genius..." I was trembling in both awe and anger.
"Is there anything else?" He asked with sly undertones.
"Falcon? Who the hell is she?" I asked.
"Ah!" Ray burst out nervously. "If I were to tell you, Falcon would find it very easy to tell. As a result you would be found floating down the river Atlee four days from now, dead from unknown causes. However I will tell you that she was someone very dear to me. You should be able to work it out for yourself from there if those spies did anything. Now, any non-stupid questions?"
I gulped at the thought of my demise. I then contemplated for a moment and said. "One last question before I leave. The Complexes? Who are they? What can they do? Any potential weaknesses?" I hoped I came across as to the point instead of demanding but this was what I wanted to know.
Ray thought for a moment, placing a finger on his temple, and then he opened his mouth. "16 as you know is Komplex Sixteen. You know his skills all too well, and his only real weakness is that he can't back down from a fight.
15 is basically a more subtlety and opinionated version of Komplex. He's a master of killing people via creative and indirect methods. However, he never could stop running his mouth. This is Gerrit, he was exiled so you can rely on his help." My eyes widened as my old friend's name was brought up.
"14 as you know is Starletts. He is relentless and efficient; the perfect field tactician and rallying point. His weakness is his multiple-personality disorder, as well as his being really bloody stubborn. I installed him at Calais asylum to give him an alibi and to take care of the deteriorating Viral.
"13 is dead. Never joined the family. He died at the destruction of the facility.
"12 is Mini Muffin. I know right? Shocking that one of the biggest psychopaths in the history of the Vanilla Craft is one of us. He is very good with Thaumic magic and has a knack for destruction. His problem is that he over-estimates his own skill and subtlety. He is also obscenely predictable in what he'll try to do.
"11 was Palmer. He was our lead strategist. We never lost a pitched battle and no operation ever failed under his watch. He however wasn't very good at making decisions in the field. He always did think that holding a weapon in hand made him invincible. That was his downfall.
"10 is Huskers. He is an outstanding sniper, and a painfully accurate Oracle. His skill as an Oracle however is also his greatest weakness. He cannot control where and when he has visions, and goes into almost seizure like episodes when he has them. He has also developed a moral crusade to fulfil his visions, often betraying those he trusts to carry this out.
"9 is long dead. Well, we assume he is. We never found his body.
"8 is Beat. He has a strong resistance to poisons and Endling magic. However, he has a very strong phobia of corrosive poisons after a tragic accident during his days in the facility. Even though it happened before we wiped him, he never recovered. He is also an adrenalin junkie, he pushes himself too far simply for the thrill of it.
"7 died fighting 16 during his "daring" escape attempt.
"6 survived the incident in the facility, but was among those who got cold feet about joining the family. He proved an obstacle so we had him killed.
"4 and 5 may as well be one and the same. They were fraternal twins with a strong sense of sibling rivalry. Their strain of the formula gave them an even greater sense of rivalry. They hated each other, but were both outstanding speakers. So we planted them both in the positions of United Blue and Red leaders. Both of them believed the other a traitor and they both had the objective of crushing the other. So, it reached the point of war and they were called to negotiate. In order to get rid of the United Blue and Red governments, we bombed out the negotiations; even made it look like the Brotherhood did it. Dominus' rule over the ex-Blue territories was pretty total, with only the dying old powers like Calais and the Azure Tribe as vague rivals. The perfect crime..." He trailed off almost reminiscently.
This was too much for me. He was talking about having betrayed members of his own crew, people who trusted him. I moved like lightning, rising and slamming his head against the iron grill of the bed before he new what was happening. Ray crumpled to the side, gripping the back of his head. I was about to draw my blade when I heard a strange whispering. This whispering chilled me to the bone, telling me of death, of destruction, of the pain beyond the gates of death. I turned with great difficulty, to see one of the faceless creatures staring in the window, almost glaring at me. Then I noticed that its hand was phased through a terrified Pi's chest, plainly clasped around his heart. It cocked its head and the whispers cleared, and the message was plain "An eye for an eye lapdog. Tread lightly." At this I sheathed my sword grudgingly and sat back down.
Ray turned his head and glared at me. I felt the anger leave me, but the venom stayed. I attempted to apologise but only received a cold "Get the out of here. I try to help you and this is how I'm treated. You're lucky I don't tell you her name. Then we can both die happy. Ah well... I suppose he'll get you out of the way long before you find out; that's his job. NOW I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT!" I attempted to apologise again but he simply spat in my direction. Wiping the dirty liquid from my brow I stood up and left in disgust at the animal.
Pi came up to me as we walked towards the second room. He seemed most shaken from his run-in with the creature. "What the hell was that thing? It's hand just phased through my bloody chest. I hope you got something useful from Ray, otherwise this'll all feel pointless." His voice was far more indignant than it should have been, allowing me a small chuckle at his blissful ignorance of what had just happened.
"He told me all I needed to know." I said triumphant that I had drawn almost all that I needed from him. "I can't claim total success, for Falcon is still a Goddamn mystery. Also, while I learnt the names of the other Complexes, the who attacked Aaron is unknown as well. However, I now know that this Complex 3 is one of the Gaians or our allies. Also, I did learn a fair bit more about Dominus' goal than I did before. Totty was right, he's planning to gain himself title of Dictat, regent of Mojang's domain. But, he'd need one hell of a plan to succeed. And now we're onto him, so that should slow him down when he finds out. I assure you that will be as soon as Secret and co. return from that address."
"But we still don't know who Complex 3 I-" Pie very loudly remarked. I put a finger to his lips and stared coldly forward. Standing in front of us was Falcon, with the complete entourage of the Family (minus Complex 3), Unknown and Hamish. There they were, all the people Ray had described to me. Huskers was as glassy eyed as ever and his short white beard was proudly stretched around the breadth of his chin, exactly as I remembered him. Muffin was the same animal I had heard described so many times. He was hunched over, wearing a torn-up pinstriped suit, with lots of extravagant jewellery adorning him. His eyes were blood-shot, with one retina bigger than the other. His face was youthful, with a sadistic grin which reflected his broken mind. He kept wringing his hands and staring around eagerly. He stopped, staring at me. That's when Hamish jabbed him in the back saying "Move prisoner!"
I was incredulous. Hamish arresting the Family? "On what charges do you arrest them officer?" I asked Hamish pointedly, in a masked voice.
"Illegal use of Thaumic magic. Little punks set fire to the Chapter House!" He then turned, saw me and scowled. "Kay..." He growled.
"Ooh!" Burst out Muffin. "Is this the one you hate so much Falcon? Goody! I'll enjoy skinning him! Such fun times ahead. Ha-ho!" He started to do a little jig but Beat nudged him and he stopped disappointedly.
"I know." I shouted to Falcon mockingly. "Tell Big D we're onto him."
Falcon turned to glare at me. Her face was completely concealed but I could still make out the malice. "Filth." She grumbled and walked forwards. Hamish made a point of bumping into me as he and his soldiers passed.
I smiled to myself. My theory was proved. Ray was directly related to Dom's wife, Ellen, and was likely to hold her quite dear (as most of his House was dead or resentful of him). Ellen's pet name for Dominus was "Big D", judging from various visit's to the R7K bunker during the THP-R7K war. Ellen was also fiercely defensive of Dominus and had a tendency to mutter short, snide insults when her husband was insulted or threatened.
Satisfied by my triumph I sauntered with Pi down to our last destination, Starletts' cell. The sight was pitiable. On the radiant walls were various nonsensical phrases, and messy drawings. These were all drawn by a worn out stick of charcoal which lay exhausted at their boss's side. Their master lay slumped against his wretched iron framed bed, with its dirty sheets which were torn and evidently hadn't been washed since he arrived. He was in the black felt jacket and black fedora he had been wearing at Aegis. His messy black hair framed his face like the tangled vines of a rose bush. His jade green eyes darted nervously back and forth between two objects. The first was his mask, which lay expectantly at his feet. The second was a broken watch which he kept irritably checking whenever he got bored of watching his mask.
I walked in and sat down beside him, staring at the fragmented face of the watch. He seemed totally oblivious of my presence. I was about to make myself known when he spoke hoarsely. "Yes I see you Gaian. The treacherous one who changed sides in this perpetual war."
"Now listen here." I responded angrily at his jab. "I only work with the Brotherhood because I find your methods and goals contemptib-"
"Not that you imbecile! The war on time itself. The Brotherhood are only one front in it, and they one of the least important. Time has always been against me; been against man. By siding with Void you have chosen time as your ally. Only to live in fear of being stabbed in he back when its contract expires."
"Is that not the gamble every living being has to take?" I philosophically threw into the air.
"No! Time hates his friends even more so than his enemies. When time stops I will be freed. And while I roam free you will be left to roam in the darkness, abandoned by your lord and master." His voice was filled with spite as he tapped the face of the broken watch furiously. He then cried out in anger, kicking his mask across the room. "Even in its dying days time spites me!"
"I'm sure he does not mean to cause offense. He simply wises to relish the time you both have left together." My hands clapped together to keep warm. There was a strange draft in the room.
"You may mock me, but you cannot deny it." He stared fearfully at the mask, and reached out slowly to lift it. "All I have ever known." His voice sounded must old than it should have. "My identity and the mark of my slavery..."
"Oh for god's sake don't start this. I already heard this monologue from Quintus, Starletts!" I was losing my patience, this conversation was going to change from an amusing philosophy session to a bad soap-opera.
He turned, snarling. "Starletts died long ago. The scape-goat outlived his usefulness! I stand, rising from his ashes. Complex 14, the Overlord! I am lord over this land. YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS SUCH!" It was pitiable, the man was falling apart. I felt I had best leave before he completely broke down, I didn't want tormenting the insane on my record. Dom was using everything against Void at the moment; word that one of Void's followers came to gloat over a broken man. I stood up swiftly before these allegations arose.
"Well I must be getting along Starletts. Enjoy wallowing in your denial."
"Impudent fool. You speak to the rightful lord of the Vanilla Craft! When time stops you will fall, and it will be painful. I AM THE OVERLORD!" His voice was not filled with forced intimidation factor, but he genuinely believed it. I was uncertain whether to feel intimidated by or sorry for the wretch.
I walked out through the open door and he attempted to grab me. However, the sheet came down between us before he could get a proper grip. As I walked down the hall I heard him ranting and raving as he pounded on the reinforced glass. Always the same words "I am the Overlord! You will kneel before me!" Had I stayed much longer I would have heard him stop screamin. I would have seen him slump to the floor with his back against the door, with his arms folding over his knees. I would have seen and the small tear trickle down his face. I would have heard the broken croaking voice saying in little more than a whisper "I am the Overlord..." Then his bloodshot eyes fell on the shattered face of the old, discarded clockwork watch, and he fell into a mournful silence.
How I missed it eludes me to this day. Perhaps it was intrigue in his ramblings. Perhaps it was the pity I felt for him. Perhaps it was the over-abundance of confidence I felt after having gotten what I did from Ray. Even though the glass was shattered, and the weary arms lay still, the clock still ticked on between the screams of the tormented, and the laughs of the insane. Ticking. And Ticking. And Ticking. Never stopping. Just the constant ticking. Ticking down to the end...
(mini was here)
Part 6: The Long Game
The early morning fog heavily blanketed the city of Mojang, like a great silvery funeral veil masking the face of a widow. From the great chimneys of the factories, the pillars of Divine Industry, came a thick, stifling smoke. The morbid chimes of the great clock tower staggered wearily across the rooftops, their youthful energy stripped away by the cold reality of that fabled land of opportunity. Postmen strolled leisurely through the empty and silent streets, tossing their wares at the doors of their clients. Curtains were drawn tight across windows, in the hope of stopping the cold’s nightly crusade into their homes.
On the edge of the city there lay an old abandoned estate that had been owned by some charitable nobleman at some time. It was a large compound, with high walls and a sprawling expanse of mansion and greenhouses. It might have been a university at some point, or perhaps an insane asylum; perhaps both. Armed guards patrolled the cobbled pathways between the greenhouses, and the great tiled yard out front; their armour rattling slightly with every step. In their hands they held lanterns which lit the fog in an eerie orange hue. The only noise besides the rattling of armour was the hollow rush of the wind. The lights were on in what had once been the concert hall, and classical music began to play. There was the sound of classical music; the ringing noise of clinking glasses; and then the boom of hearty laughter. It echoed out almost ghoulishly over the silent night; like the whispers of ghosts from a time gone by.
Then the doors flew open, and yellow light flooded the courtyard. All turned to stare as the two burley men in suits held the great mahogany doors open, and out flew a monk in dirty brown robes. He flew about four feet and landed face-down in some filthy puddle from the torrential rain the night before. He tried to pull himself to his feet but slipped and fell again. At this the brutish crowd that had formed laughed cruelly and without remorse. They did so until the old man stepped out and shushed them with a wave of his hand. He stood in the doorway of the house, silhouetted against the dark doorframe. All that could be made out was that he wore a great grey suit, with black hair that had stylish grey streaks through it. His arms were spread wide, as if challenging the monk to come at him. He started down the steps slowing, speaking in a grim, mocking manner.
"Oh poor, poor old man. I applaud you on your bravery." The old monk pulled himself to his knees, one hand placed firmly on the ground to keep himself upright. His greyish-black moustache was dripping with a murky brown liquid. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, for great black rings sagged beneath his bloodshot, stormy grey eyes.
"Your efforts to warn the poor boy were most entertaining, however futile. Paying off Yamada to give Void's men the order to execute a group of injured rebels in front of his friend's windows was admittedly questionable. I assume you intended to convince him to take no sides in the conflict for both sides were equally evil; or something along those lines. However, the invisible spies around his base were an excellent touch! You scared his little security officer less!" He laughed hysterically, one hand clasped over his stomach, the other stroking the small beard that had become visible. "Yet failed to ward him away from any further involvement. Telling Hamish what train he was taking was a masterstroke, attempting to scare him into going into hiding. Sadly, you failed to anticipate his desire for revenge." He seemed to smirk, but his face remained firmly in shadow.
"I haven't failed yet..." The old monk was struggling to put confidence into his voice. "Void still lives. Plus I know what Quintus intends to do. Kay and the other pawns of Void will catch you out. I'm sure of it!" The last sentence was more to reassure himself than threaten his enemy.
The silhouetted man tooked a few steps back, arms raised in front of his face as if in fear. He then cried out, "Oh no!" in mock terror. He began to tremble. "I feel so scared. A relic and a lap dog hunting me! Oh the horror!" He clasped his hands over his shrouded face for a few seconds, but them his face shot back up as in realisation. "Oh wait! I forgot I already sent Huskers to get rid of Quintus and the lap dog. The Family are also unfazed; and Hamish is still little more than a slightly overzealous Inquisition officer as far as the True Court are concerned. This isn't even mentioning my many other inside men. Oh thank Notch! You had me worried there for a moment Ghostly." His smirk seemed to return, and the old Administrator of Zine Craft grimaced at him.
Ghostly clasped his staff and stood up with great effort, pointing his staff at the silhouette. He was not long for this world and he knew it. His condition had been deteriorating for months. Now as his lungs tightened and his breathing constricted, and his arms began to tremble from the sheer effort of staying upright, he spoke in his hoarse voice. "I want you to know... I-I won't be going down without a fight." Yet he still exuded the confidence he had been famed for, despite his enfeebled condition.
"Oh..." The silhouette sounded almost disappointed as he hopped backwards up the stairs. He gestured to his guards to attack and stood back to watch the fireworks reluctantly. Ghostly raised his staff high above his head, muttering inane incantations. Time seemed to slow down as the guards rushed forwards (hell it did slow down unless the guards took their fighting lessons from the Spartans in "300"). Then, just as the first blade was about to bite flesh, Ghostly slammed his ebony staff into the tiled ground. There was some sort of invisible wave that threw the guards away into the mist like mandolins being cast aside by a bored child.
Ghostly lay slumped against his staff, panting from the effort. A bead of sweat trickled down his wrinkled brow and small clouds of steam rose from his mouth like ghostly wisps. His staff was embedded firmly in the stone, the tile beneath it shattered. His eyes lay pointed blankly at the ground, watching the ripples in the puddle intently. How he had fallen; from ruler of the Zine Craft, to a pauper in over his head trying to stop a man far more powerful than he. He felt himself slip in and out of consciousness as his breath thinned even more. Then he saw the silhouetted man rise like a corpse from the grave. He straightened his tie and seemed to chuckle at Ghostly's weakness.
He felt fury course through his veins and he tugged at the staff. No good. He therefore abandoned the staff and turned to face the laughing man, glaring at him. "What do you intend to do exactly Ghostly? Confrontationally stare me to death? Even if you do make it out of here alive you won't live long. You'd have to be obscenely desperate to try and kill me. You've been too clumsy. You know how I hate goodbyes but, this is the end Ghostly. No way out."
"That's the thing you forget. It is the end. I intend to make the last chapter of my story worthwhile. Goodbye old friend." Ghostly smiled sadly and stuck out his wrist. He first held it open palm, like he were reaching out for something; then he slowly began to clasp whatever it was. Then, the silhouette stopped lasting as his ribcage came under great pressure. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees. Then, just a Ghostly was about to shatter his ribcage, he jerked forwards slightly. Then a small trickle of crimson blood rolled down his left cheek from a small pinprick of a wound. Then he fell to his knees, relinquished his grip and fell face-first into the puddle.
Then, through the murky brown ripples came the fractured image of a man with glassy blue eyes and clasping a very distinctive rifle. The silhouette took a moment to catch his breath, raising his finger in a "just a moment" gesture. Then he pulled himself to his feet, shook himself and limped towards the Blind Prophet.
"Thank you Huskers." He gave him what looked like a cool smile. "Although I'm sure you could have cut it closer."
"I'm sure I could have, then I could just take my money from your corpse and leave. You're lucky I'm an honest man." Huskers seemed to stare through the silhouetted man, as if he were looking into something far more vast and interesting; yet at the time stared deep into his soul. The silhouette struggled to suppress a shudder. His blond hair and beard were neatly trimmed and his dirty suit gave him the image of modern day prophet.
"Anyway, glad you're here. Did you kill Quintus?"
"Yes. Although I'm sure you'll be ed off that the Lap Dog escaped."
"I am." The glints that were his eyes seemed to narrow. "Well I can't quite blame you it wasn't in the contract. I would have paid you extra."
"I'm an honest man, I stick to my contracts. Plus I know for a fact that your second statement was a lie. You would have given me a pat on the back and I would be left forever wondering whether killing him was of any benefit to either of us."
The silhouette chuckled. "Well, the first part of your contract is done. Now, I want you to go and tell Jiibrael and Hamish to continue as planned, but affirm the importance of visiting the warehouse at the exact times. Also, tell her to keep an eye on Astro. He has expressed doubts to the plan, and I am sure the meeting he scheduled with Kay will develop into far more than the "nostalgic reacquainting" he led us to believe it was. If he does he is to be detained immediately."
"What do we do with him afterwards." Huskers inquired, plainly feeling annoyed at his vagueness.
"Leave him to Zerg. He should be free any moment now." He turned to face the party, smiling to himself as his plan came together.
"Make your move Void..." He said leisurely, but a hint of suppressed malice crept in. Then the windows shattered and the concert hall was engulfed in purple flame. "I've made mine." And he stood there enjoying the party; watching the flames dance, and listening to the symphony of the dying.
Part 7: A Day in the Life
I pushed through the crowd, shifting irritably as I attempted to reach Void's door. The crowd was causing quite the uproar, screaming and chanting some inane slogans. Flagons of whiskey were slamming together, the numbing liquid spilling out and coating these barbarians in some form of primitive war-paint. It was a general rabble of the upper class; every form of power-hungry git, rebellious heir and drunken businessman you could imagine gathered in one exceedingly crowded hallway. I looked around to see if there was a single sane mind left afloat in that sea of barbarism where civilisation and sacred ground meant nothing. Every here and there you'd see some sort of disgruntled nobleman or irritable servant wisely clinging to the edges to avoid being drowned. I wished I'd followed their example as I was tossed from person to person. At either end of the corridor were startled looking guards, taking nervous glances into the crowd as if unsure whether to do something or pretend that the crowd wasn't there.
They were crowded around the great, open, marble staircase, a sad reminder of where I had to go. Someone was evidently staging a soap-box speech. Probably some unimportant idiot with a sickeningly populist agenda. I thought to myself. No one will care if I just cut through and make him look like a prat in a witty manner. Then I pushed through the crowd and caught my first glimpse of the speaker. "... Well at least I was right about it being an idiot with a sickeningly populist agenda." was all I could think. Dominus was approaching the staircase with his entourage. Surrounding him were his various generals.
At his right hand was a young man (even younger than I), Jiibrael, King of the Rising Sun. He was clad in full samurai armour; never moving his hand far from his katana. His eyes were hawk-like slits, and his skin a tanned yellow. His features were defined and proud; reflecting his aloof manner. The bridge of his nose crooked and had a deep scar running across it; a harsh remind of an encounter with Komplex at the Battle of Qustom Peak. He seemed to scan the crowd for potential threats, stopping on me for a moment as if evaluating the quickest way to break my arms. Satisfied with his evaluation he continued on, nudging the man to his right, muttering something in his ear and gesturing to me. The man glanced at me and sed behind his hand like a school-girl at Jiib's comment.
This man was Mathias, king of the Britons. His hair was a golden colour, glinting in the light that shone through the windows behind him. His eyes were of a deepest blue. His skin was also golden, with a bronze pigment in the cheeks. He wore a suit much like the one Beat had worn in the tunnels. His hands were soft, plainly not having seen a day's work in their life. At his side hung a golden sabre; plainly forged to attract attention. He knew full well the connotations of one of those and relished it, tapping the handle rhythmically. Despite his evident ego, he was a reasonable man and was the chap who had generously bought our old kit out of the generosity of his heart (just kidding Aaron conned the out of him; he nearly backed out when he discovered this but Aaron set him straight in a conversation apparently involving a candle-stick, a sack of potatoes and a small dog being thrown out of a window). Just beneath his left eye was a large amount of make-up struggling to hide a bruise (which Aaron claims Mathias had been awarded with for impertinence in the aforementioned conversation).
On Dominus' left was a proud man who seemed deep in thought. He wore a sea green suit, with a grey bow tie. Beneath this was a pair of white suspenders and a black shirt. Atop his nose were perched a pair of thick, round, silver-rimmed spectacles. On top of his head was a great purple fez. His jaw was large and square. This man was most certainly not supposed to be there! At this point he spoke, as if to an unseen narrator. "What are you talking about of course I'm supposed to be here! I'm the-"
At this point he burst into flames and Lord Wedgely "Wedge" Wedgewood of the village of Wedgewood stepped into his place. He was an optimistic man, who cared for little else but the safety of his people. Sadly, his idea of assuring their safety often meant going on the offensive. This wasn't his fault entirely; he had been raided mercilessly by Botanny's gang during the war, losing his family and the dignity of Wedgewood in the process. He had been viewed as questionable for his peaceful attempts at survival prior to the war, not even building up his army in secret as Dominus did. After the conflict he was ridiculed for these optimistic ideals; his kingdom in flames, his trade empire in tatters, and left childless and without a wife. The last of these was probably what hit him hardest. I remember seeing him just before the battle of Qustom Peak; I had been encamped near his troops and witnessed him receiving the news. He had didn't cry, he didn't burst out in anger, he didn't even react, he just stared into the distance for a few seconds and muttered "Ch-check the armoury. Make sure the weapons are r-ready." before wandering off in a lost manner. He may not have been obvious about it, but something broke in him that day. Something that was never quite fixed. He'd turned Wedgewood into a fortress before Dominus left, with it being used much to the advantage of the Overlord before his defeat. Now he stood before me staring forward with his blank smile, sad eyes, and strangely old face.
Beside Wedge was the lord of the Valhallans, Drakon. He was dressed in traditional Valhallan armour set, with the signature right-hand shoulder guard carved into the shape of a dragon's head. The steel shell of his had a radiant hue in the light, giving him an angelic impression. His blue bandanna masked his mouth. His thick black curtain of hair hung around his pale white face. Around his smirking slit of a map was a dark forest of stubble. He kept tapping his sword hilt threateningly as he glared into me, as if disgusted by my very existence. I can't blame him entirely; it did seem very hypocritical of me to stand alongside the Brotherhood in a conflict this important. However, he also can't blame me for standing with Void after learning what I did.
I can't explain why I did it at first though, whether it was out of fear of the consequences of rebelling against Void; complacency with my own position; the thrill of the moment; settling the score for Dominus abandoning us at The Nether Highway System and allowing Drk to sneak off and attack us with a Legion of Romans; or perhaps a genuine belief that there was something off with Dominus' plan.
I met his gaze, and for a few brief seconds we were trading mental blows, each evaluating the best way to end the other. Unlike Jiib's this was a genuine two way mental battle, with both people taking part and actually coming up with an attack plan, instead of a cool but surreal scene from bad Michael Bay film. Then we broke eye contact and he continued to scan the crowd.
Behind Dominus were two figures that looked greatly familiar. On the left was Wise One, King of the Egyptians, whose wrinkled face had seen battle upon battle in his many years of service to Dominus' family. I had spoken to him but once, during the Great War between the Brotherhood and the Realm. He had spoken highly of Dominus and his father, Dominus II (current Dominus being Dominus III). He was fiercely loyal to Dominus, more loyal than perhaps even Jiibrael. From the sound of it, the loyalty was rewarded with trust, and with trust came secrets. Wise One was Dominus' most trusted confidant, and his personal book-keeper; meaning he held every single dirty secret Dominus had. It came as quite a shock to us when news reached of his conspiracy against Dominus. It had taken a week to get all the leaders to hush up about it. Wise One hadn't contacted us since helping Sword and Jared escaped, leaving us to question whether or not he was even alive. However, as reassuring as seeing our silent saviour was, the questions now became "Does Dominus know? Is it safe to talk to him? Is he still on our side?"
On the right was Synthenos, a mysterious figure who bore a strange resemblance to someone I had once known; but I couldn't remember who. For some reason I thought of Qustom Peak; probably because of his connection with Dominus. He was the leader of a mysterious cult known as The Order of Aera. Little was known of them or their practices; all I knew was that they only took the best. His thick, sandy blond hair lay upon his head like a drunk collapsed on his doorstep. He seemed deep in thought about something as he eyed a patrol of pigmen dirtily.
Off in the corner was Lunter. He was a retired moderator who had a close friendship with Dominus. Woobly had held great respect for him for a time but other than this I knew bugger all about him. As for his appearance, imagine Peter Capaldi as a leprechaun.
Behind them all was the ever loyal Try-hard, leader of Dominus' private bodyguard. Woe betides anyone who questioned whether he was actually Irish. He had olive-coloured skin, and jet black hair of a similar shade to Aaron's. He was stooped slightly from an injury dealt to him by Jolly during the Great War. His armour was made purely of steel, with a great war-hammer at his side.
The only ones absent were Falcon/Raven and Zerg. It was both reassuring and unsettling to find that Dom's "secret" weapon wasn't there. It was reassuring because if we by chance did come to blows here, the fight would be much easier. Plus, the absence of Zerg's shades was also welcome; it meant Dom was growing cocky. However, it did raise the question of why Dom was being so stupid; was it a trap? Or if it was not a trap what was Zerg and his "army" (it had been revealed there were little more than 1000 of his men, 1100 including his alleged team of automatons) were doing. Despite their lack of numbers, they were among the most destructive creatures I had come across, and I had seen Muffin's work. In the group of roughly 30 men surrounding them were 5 lords sympathetic to Dominus, an administrator from when of the outer crafts whose name I could not remember, 10 of Dom’s personal guard and nearly 20 of Jiibrael's elite samurai. I use the term elite lightly.
Dominus snapped his fingers nonchalantly and a small attendant (whom I recognised to be Fabio from Aegis) ran out and put out a small pedestal for Dominus to stand on, raising his crown-clad head even further above the crowd. He appeared both serene and calculating at the same time. He cleared his throat and spoke in an admittedly calm and serene voice. "People of Mojang and the many Crafts; subjects of the Administrators; I stand before you today on the verge of a great victory. A victory that will change the world for the better and free the True Court from corruption. But before I reveal this, allow me to lend some context. We live in a system where millions are subject to tyranny under corrupt and warmongering administrators. In the East thousands are killed every day because of the warmongering of the administrator known as Vechs, who intends to turn the entire land into his own sick funhouse of anarchy; using the Court of Whispers to further his twisted vision. Let us have a moment of prayer for those who fight them." And so he joined his hands in prayer.
I clasped my hands and shook my head in disgust. As the traditional verse of "We pray to you oh Notch the Ascended, to avert us from sin and guard us from crazy badgers..." began I noticed an old man with thin but spiky hair and a wispy white beard just next to me who looked just as disgusted as myself, as if he also knew where Dominus was about to go with this. He looked familiar but I couldn't place where I'd seen him. He looked in my direction in an irritated manner. I gave him a "tell me about it" sort of look, rolling my eyes as I did so.
"How they're lapping this up will forever confuse me." He grunted, staring daggers into Dominus with his saggy old eyes.
"Likewise. Does he even lift?" I jested. He chortled.
"Say, you're Kay Mandy aren't you? I assume you're on your way to visit Void. So am I." He conversationally whispered. "I'm Halberdson, the man who built the road system in the Vanilla Craft." My face lit up at this.
Halberdson was leader of one of the Great Houses, in one of the so-called "swing" Crafts. First of all I may as well explain the voting system of the True Court. Within each Craft there are any number of noble families, each making up one of the Great Houses, which may be established in multiple Crafts. When it came to the Annual Gathering each of these Houses had a vote that would help decide the stance of their Craft on the issue being debated. The Swing Crafts were crafts which were dominated by a single Great House, meaning a guaranteed vote either way. These were key in passing any bill, as Void and Dominus had roughly 50/50 support among the regular Crafts (with Void's main support base being of most of the more traditional Inner Crafts, and Dom having the votes of most of the Outer Crafts), the Swing Crafts were the only ones left widely undecided. Every one of them counted. This was a good sign; especially as Halberdson was quite influential from what I'd heard.
"Yes I am Kay, I remember you. You built the Grand Central Network of roads in the Vanilla Craft. Glad to see you." I offered my hand and we shook heartily. I was about to inquire into his business with Void when some conscientious patriot nudged me and hissed the traditional monologue about respecting the dead.
I, being sick of hearing this exact same speech from nearly every citizen of Mojang every time I questioned the True Court's decisions in public since my arrival, cut him cruelly short. "I understand you only mean well, but believe me, Dominus disrespects them even worse than we do by using them as a propaganda tool. He himself faked insanity to avoid a call from his allies to join the war on Vechs, placing the Realm in the hands of Jiibrael who came across as so mentally unstable that no one has called upon the Realm for aid since." The citizen looked away from me, eyebrows furrowed as if he were thoroughly re-evaluating his world view.
That's when Dominus began his speech again, and the crowd fell thoroughly silent. "Now, I would like to affirm before I continue that I hold no grudge towards the people of Mojang, nor animosity towards the Divines, and I most certainly am not suggesting the citizen's of the True Court get preferential treatment over the rest of us! This is incorrect! The system works! Anyone who suggests otherwise is a liar. Anyone who suggests such tosh is your enemy. Anyone who suggests this heresy is my enemy!" This stirred up a great applause from the crowd. I rolled my eyes as he paused dramatically.
"However, on that note, while the system works, certain individuals stop it from working. Certain individuals, who give the rest of us a bad name. Certain individuals, such as "Lord" Israphel; who is currently left enfeebled in the dungeons below. Certain individuals, such as Vechs and the Court of Whispers; who threaten to destroy all we hold dear!" Again he paused for effect as nearly the entire gave him a "this-man-knows-what-he's-talking-about" sort of look.
"Even in this fair city these individuals reside. Need I even mention the Thaumic terrorist sect known as "The Flux", who just last night murdered one of the kindest individuals I know of, a man I called friend! A man I served beside and called brother!" I saw him force out a tear. "Last night they murdered Ghostly; Administrator King of the Zine Craft in a mass bombing of my own country estate. Also harmed were my dear wife, Ellen; who now lies injured in her bed. And my good friend - Zerg, Administrator of the men of Kreatious - was also injured in the bombing, thankfully not as gravely.
"However, there is one individual who embodies everything wrong with the system." I sighed thinking "here it comes..."
"A man who not only allows murder, but encourages it! A man who will help start a war and sell weapons to both sides! A man who allows personal grudges to govern how he rules. He is a man who stabs his friends in the back because their relationship is no longer profitable. A man who smuggles illegal Thaumic immigrants into his Craft for... for giggles! He has no sense of honour or shame. This man is Void, Administrator of the Vanilla Craft." He yet again paused a moment to let this sink in.
"In fact, the entire Craft is corrupt. The Administrators are apathetic. Among the leaders are murderers like the Brotherhood and Arcation; or slavers and gangsters like Kay Mandy and his Gaians. It is important to bear in mind that they are not the only perpetrators of such barbarism, but they are the perfect example of it. It is time we made an example of such people. It is time we wiped the Vanilla Craft off the face of the Earth. It is time we cleansed the system as a whole! It is time we made way for new age! In honour of this principle, I announce to you good people, that should we win the vote, a new Craft shall be formed from the Vanilla Craft's ashes! A better craft! A Superlative Craft! The Superlative Craft!"
This was enough for me. I whispered in Halberdson's ear "follow my lead", snatched a pair of flamboyant Elton John-like sunglasses and scarf off of an old blind reveller and marched through the crowd in the most self-important manner I could offer. The scarf was wrapped around my mouth in a manner that hid most of my face but allowed my voice to not be muffled. "Excusez-moi! Out of my way! Coming through s!" Said I in my best possible falsetto.
A few seconds later I forced my way through an increasing disgruntled crowd. Halberdson hobbled nervously behind me as I approached Dominus, who was too busy basking in the limelight to notice someone acting even as flamboyant as I was. However, his guards and generals however simply stood and stared at me, as if wondering whether or not they were hallucinating. The crowd were simply lapping it up, even those I had shoved through were beginning to laugh, and I began to notice familiar faces; Vacar, a depressed looking Atreidon, Ruary and Jimmy T. BIGMAN, and the four core members of the Brotherhood (Tauto, Jolly, Komplex, and Ubi). Synthenos seemed particularly amused, breaking down laughing as Dominus slowly became aware of my presence as I stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at him for a full 30 seconds. The second he started to fully realise my presence I began moving again. The crowd was in approval as I strutted up to their falling hero and he began to stammer at me in a perplexed manner. "Um... H-hello? Wh-wh-who are y-you? H-h-hello?"
At this I shouted "OUT OF MY WAY! I am too fabulous!" and shoved him off of his pedestal, his mount Olympus sending the false god crashing back to the cold stone of the Earth. A gasp came out of the crowd, I had them hooked, it was my time to shine. At this his guards brought themselves back to Earth and surrounded me and Halberdson. For effect I walked straight into the guard lines and was thrown back slightly. "How rude! We are going to complain to management about this! We so are aren't we gramps?" Halberdson seemed confused as to whom I was referring to so I offered him encouragement in the form of an elbow to the ribs.
"Oh, yes, err... quite right. Quite right!" He seemed to be lacking confidence in my tactic. However, I knew for a fact that everything was falling into place.
"Do you know who I am?!!" Shouted an outraged Dominus as he pulled himself up with the help of a fussing Fabio.
"Honey do you know who I am!" I said spinning around.
"Let’s see!" Snarled Dominus as he tugged my scarf and sunglasses off. His face fell into a state of resentment and Jiibrael began to massage the bridge of his nose and mutter "Jeb have mercy on our souls."
"Hello Dom! I see you've come back for round two of "the seasonal shaming of the Realm!"" I announced, resuming my normal accent. "First of all I'd like to point out just how flawed your argument is! First of all, Void hasn't engaged in warmongering, like ever. He fought one war with a man you just claimed to be your friend, Zerg (a man who butchered 140,000 noobian prisoners on a whim), then he refused to engage in combat willingly again, let alone fund a war. The only time he's actually fought since then is when you attempted a coup which was quite easily crushed. On that note I would like to point out that you are in fact a warmonger, having intentionally started most of the major conflicts of the Vanilla Craft since the end of the Onslaught. The war with Legion was started by Palmer in an effort to save the Council of Lords, which you sent assassins to destabilise and destroy. I have at least 6 witnesses who were all involved in one stage of this plot down in the dungeons all of which work for you and one I'm fairly sure is your "poorly" wife.
"The war with the Brotherhood was started when you decided to slaughter a grand total of 10,000 Brotherhood protected Testificates in their homes, taking the 100 survivors as slaves. Then there was Qustom peak. Need I even mention that." Dominus was glaring at me coldly, Qustom Peak was a touchy subject.
I knew why. The Realm, even with Viral betraying the Brotherhood, and Fedwin unleashing the dragon from the End Portal (or "The Well" as Dominus insisted on calling it), the battle had been a bloodbath. I cannot describe the horror; it was no great pitched battle, no order, just pure chaos. The Realm's army had been massacred and many of the Gaians and Wedgians with them. Most blamed the Brotherhood, even I had for a time, but I couldn't escape the fact that it was Dom's reliance on numbers that damned that battle to me.
I collected myself and spoke again. "Even the recent war against the Overlord was supposedly orchestrated by you. At any rate, many who are deeply connected to you are connected to him.
"As for you depiction of the Brotherhood and Arcation, as I mentioned before, it’s the pot calling the kettle black. In terms of the Gaians, while I did have a criminal streak for a while, most of my crimes were politically motivated; often by the actions of people like yourself. You’re a bad influence Dom." I made sure to tsk him on this, much to the amusement of the crowd. "As for the idea of us being slavers. Last time I checked, you still have a sizable slave empire yourself. I can forgive you for not knowing that a total of two months ago we abolished the Testificate trade entirely. All of our citizens work in decent conditions voluntarily with a strong benefits system. The Realm cannot claim to guarantee any of these." The crowd seemed impressed.
"Were you born this irritating? Or are you trying especially hard today?" Dominus grumbled. A few people in the crowd chuckled lightly.
"I aim to please." I retorted, making to bow but making sure to make a rude gesture in the process. The crowd were roaring with laughter now. Mission accomplished; Dominus upstaged.
"Now listen here Kay! Sod off if you think this is the way to behave in public. You’re little more than a snivelling Thaumic leech. Learn your place or I'll mail you back to it in pieces." Jiibrael cried out. A lot of people gasped and there were a few oohs in the crowd. A few (mostly the Brotherhood) scowled at Jiibrael's outburst. This was going even better than I planned.
"Oh look!" Cried Halberdson mockingly. "The child playing dress-up wants to talk to the grown-ups! How sweet!" He turned to the now laughing crowd, spinning back around to face Jiibrael. "Take that colander off your head boy! Your mummy will want it back!" The crowd erupted into applause and I doubled over laughing.
Then Jiibrael, scorned by this insult, kicked the walking stick out from under Halberdson. The crowd cried out in outrage. Dominus covered his eyes in horror. Jimmy T. BIGMAN ate a banana (I don't know how this is relevant but it snuck in here somehow and its staying). Halberdson hit the marble floor groaning, fumbling around for his cane like a blind man. There was a sick look of triumph on Jiibrael's face, which quickly turned to horror for two reasons. First of all he realised he had just hurt a helpless old man in cold blood. Then he realised I was planting a fist firmly into his nose. As bone shattered and blood spilt he began to collapse. In a few seconds he hit the floor and the stakes were raised.
I threw off the first three guards easily and managed to disarm Tryhard, using his hammer to stun an additional guard. Then, blood running down his temple, Tryhard struck me in the jaw and I was thrown back into two tendril-like pairs of arms. As I thrashed increasingly helplessly against my captors Tryhard began to strike me. I began to notice what was happening around me. First blow; his ring caught me just above the eyebrow, opening a small crimson gash. Jiibrael was still lying on the floor, with Jimmy still eating his banana and staring blankly at the fallen samurai as Halberdson and Wise One had some sort of pensioner boxing match. Second blow; a backhanded stinger on my left cheek, not very damaging but highly painful and humiliating. The Brotherhood had forced their way through the panicking crowd and up the stairs, loosely pairing off against the champions of the Realm. They drew their shining weapons and the ring of clashing metal soon resounded in the air. Third blow; to the stomach, causing me to begin retching. A pair of blurs that resembled Vacar and Drakon were wrestling on the floor. Ubi had sliced Mathias' sword in half and had started chasing the poor bugger around the area. Jolly and Tauto were locked in an engagement with Lunter and a number of Jiibrael's samurai. Komplex was advancing swiftly on Dominus, simply batting aside the guards like flies.
The fourth blow left me staring into the crowd, watching the warriors of Mojang fighting their way through the sea of terror. In the crowd I saw young Thomas Bone struggling against a number of drunks, who had thought their best way of getting out was forming a scrum and pushing forward. My neck felt like it were hanging on by a thread. Crack. Another blow to the eyebrow, opening the wound further. As warm blood trickled down my temple I saw Atreidon and Synthenos facing off against each other. Ruary was strangely absent. Then I saw it.
Komplex was advancing on Dominus, both blades drawn. Dominus stood with his sword pointed at Komplex's heart. Komplex was in full armour and Dominus saw the horror of his own machination's turning against him. He began to step back. Seeing this Komplex dragged his blades along the stone floor, sending up a trail of sparks behind him. Then Dominus tripped over a discarded sword and landed with a thud. He held his trembling sword against the advancing Komplex with one hand as he tried to pull himself away with the other. Komplex simply batted the sword aside and pressed his blade to Dominus' throat.
"End of the line." He snarled.
"P-please, don't..." Whimpered Dominus.
"Not this time. Time to see what you did to me." And with that the armour retracted, leaving little but the tattered remains of Komplex's shirt. Through the many holes showed innumerable scars, each more horrible than the last. Dominus gasped, repulsed. "Horrified? Good. LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO ME! LOOK AT ME!"
"I'm so sorry..." Dominus was a good actor I'll give him that, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction with his own work. Both Komplex and the Brotherhood were his own fault, he'd funded both of their creations in a way. Tryhard had stopped, as had the others. Komplex raised both swords to slit Dominus' throat. Tryhard ran out to stop Komplex, only to be tackled by Ruary, who had just fought his was out of the crowd and was completely oblivious as to what had happened.
"So this is how it ends?" Komplex spat through gritted teeth and tears of anger. He thrust his swords downwards, just as the Mojang soldiers appeared with their guns and their spears. I closed my eyes just as the swords were about to cleave flesh from bone. Then I heard a cracking noise. Knowing that this was not the usual sound for a man's throat being slit I opened my eyes and saw that Komplex was fighting to yank his swords from the stone around Dominus. I looked up to the top of the stairs and there was Void, keeping his enemy from harm. I must admit I was quite confused as to why when I noticed the firing squad forming behind Komplex and dismissed it on that.
Void said this; "Save your leader now, lest I change my mind." I was released, toppling to the floor as the guards ran forward to aid Dominus. I pulled myself to my feet and began to offer the necessary congratulations. "Thanks guys. Great job on Mathias Ubes, he won't be flaunting heretical weapons any time soon. Outstanding work there Jimmy m'boy! We couldn't have done it without you. There's that smile Vacar." I placed my hand smugly on Drakon's shoulder and jested "No shame in second place old friend." He turned and gave me a dirty look, before strutting up to help his Emperor to his feet again.
I began walking up to the stairs where I found Atreidon slumped against the bannister. He was battered from his encounter with Synthenos, but there was something more hanging about him. He seemed put out; defeated. It was strange he only seemed to have started acting this way since we arrived here. I decided that I needed to find out what it was that bothered him soon. However, now was not the time. Business needed to be handled before a sub-plot that probably wouldn't contribute anything to the actual story.
A few steps later I reached Void. He had shaved since last time, and had donned his old grey rags for a bright white suit. In his eyes there was the same sense of wisdom, but also sadness and apology. I dismissed this on my battered appearance and said "I have done as you ask Void. I do not have all the keys to this chest of secrets, but I have managed to gather a few."
"Good. Do come and tell me. I would advise we had you cleaned up first though." Light re-entered his eyes and he, Halberdson and I proceeded up the stairs. I was so pleased with my success that I didn't even take notice of the blind reveller at the bottom of the stairs, staring straight at me. Nor did I take notice of the way he nodded up the stairs, straight at one of us. For a moment I thought I recognised him, and I looked back, but he was gone; leaving the scarf and glasses I had stolen from him amidst the debris.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Chapter 3: A doubled-edged blade
Part 8: In Session
I strolled down the nearly empty staircase, holding the ice bag to my eyebrow. I was in better shape than I had been prior to my visit to Void's chambers, but I was still a sight both sore eyes and perfectly fine eyes alike would do well to avoid. My left eyebrow was swollen beyond belief, and bruises were beginning to form. My jaw still ached and there were additional bruises forming there. My clothes still were rather scruffy and torn from the fight, but we'd removed the worst blood-stains. I was still in quite the daze and stumbled like a particularly decayed zombie.
However, as much as I resembled one of the undead I was satisfied. Void had been pleased with our findings, especially from the interviews with Ray and the address from Quintus. He had said these words, "Qustom may be dead but he favours us still! Great work! I trust you'll be able to gather the information needed before the end of the week?"
I had responded by saying "Don't worry Void, we can handle this. You can rest assured that Dominus will be a non-entity in no time all."
To this Void retorted, "Glad I can rest assured my people are safe." At this Ryan's eyes fell guiltily, and Void's face fell. There was a moment where his immortal sheen seemed to fade. His age became apparent. His wrinkles became deep scars in his grey cliff of a face. The baggy black rings beneath his eyes hung like tattered banners from the walls of a derelict fort. His grey hair seemed almost like a decayed field of wheat. His eyes lost their lustre, and they too fell into disrepair. The bloodshot veins in his eyes were like lightning in the cold evening sky of his retinas. In his eyes I saw his pain, I felt the screams, I smelt the sadness. I He stood up and graciously excused himself, leaving Ryan and Epsilon to see me off.
"Yeah..." Epsilon muttered, clearly disconcerted. "That was awkward."
"Any insight?" Halberdson inquired in a worn out way.
"No." Began Ryan. "Its a subplot the writer has yet to reveal for dramatic effect. Possibly in an epic confrontation scene involving multiple other subplots being magically resolved or forgotten about and or only when its too late and everyone's already figured it out. And if this is being written down obviously the writer will find this particular conversation too uncomfortable and omit it so I have nothing to fear about having to pay for damages to the fourth wall."
"Yeah..." Mumbled I, scrunching up and discarding the piece of paper which I had been using to copy down the entire conversation under the coffee table. "Lemme guess, you fell asleep whilst a drunken Ruary and a high Wolves philosophised. Again."
"Yes." Ryan admitted before politely ushering myself and Halberdson out of the room. And that basically brings us up to the present. Seeing my allies at the foot of the stairs I bade farewell to Halberdson and met with them. The four great clock towers of Mojang rang out in harmony 12 times. Noon. I'd been here for 6 hours. The first session would begin in precisely 30 minutes.
Out of habit I leapt, skipping the bottom step. I regretted my actions immediately. My head felt significantly lighter and I began to flail due to a lack of balance. Just manage to gain my foot I tipped forwards to be caught by Cossack and (much to my surprise) Linx. Straightening myself up and reapplying the ice pack to my bruised eyebrow I graciously thanked my two saviours. Then, turning specifically to Linx I asked of him this, "Isn't this your day off? Weren't you visiting your brother?"
"Well, yes." Linx explained, in his usual bemused manner. "I was down in The Old Cow's pub when I received word that Tejmin, Secret, Small and ABB were all reassigned. This left one man to lead your guard, Key. Instinctively I turned around and found Key collapsed in his usual spot, completely shattered from the night before. He had one of the worst hangovers I've ever seen, and he's still very much drunk. Could barely lift him without the poor sod threatening to vomit on me. Eventually Mateo and I managed to load him onto a stretcher and ask a mate with a carriage to give us a lift over here. Deciding that Key was in no fit condition to lead the guard I decided to return to duty to ensure no harm befell you. Sadly, I'd arrived 10 minutes after this morning's dust-up." He seemed slightly put out, whether this was at being unable to prevent my current state or at being unable to settle an old score with Try Hard (which he had mentioned a few times but never elaborated on) I am still unsure.
"Fear not." I assured him, assuming he his sadness was due to the latter. "I got into this situation entirely of my own volition. The Realm has been "effectively put in its place" to quote Trivius. By the way, has anyone seen him since we arrived? I was interested in selling him detailed notes on the events of Aegis and Zine-Craft for his next volume of his histories-"
"In other words you want advice on your unnamed auto-biographical piece?" Cossack interjected.
"How did you-" I began to demand angrily, but was cut across by Linx.
"Kay, you aren't exactly the master of stealth you think you are. We can usually see when you're writing something under the table. Plus we've been seeing the stuff you've canned in the rubbish bin. Before you ask, its good but needs work. Its like 90% fabrication; I don't remember us having to leave because Void wanted a new rug. Although I do remember Viking, Splorer and Epsilon fighting over some fried chicken once."
"Might I point out I was particularly drunk that night?" I innocently suggested, shrugging innocently.
"Explains a lot. I was wondering how Splorer managed to die twice in the space of 3 minutes reading time." Quipped a breathless Mini as he staggered towards us. "Sorry I'm late, multiple bits of good news."
I turned to face Mini. He was dressed in his finest brown tweed jacket; aside from a few stains and light patches this looked pretty swell. A pair of lightly frayed grey trousers covered his plainly dirty legs. On top of his head was mounted a tattered fishing hat, desperately trying to mimic a fedora (by that I mean a fedora which had been brutalized, verbally abused, set on fire and left to die in a storm drain). His green speckled face was beaded with sweat, and his perpetually frowning mouth was puffing out little frosted clouds of air. Autumn was nearly over, and Winter was coming.
"So, out with it man!" I hurried him, irked by his hesitance. "What is it?"
"First of all! The Family has been arrested. Yay!" He seemed crestfallen when I didn't act vaguely surprised. "Second, Secret and the Order have the address under their watch. The Companions have been kept in reserve in case things get ugly. Small is tailing anyone who leaves with Tejmin and a select group of his most trusted allies." I nodded my approval and he loosened up; a smile creeping across his face. Or, at least it was as close to a smile as a half-breed could get. "Since Quintus was killed last night Hamish has taken over personally, with Mathias checking in every two hours and taking over whenever he is needed."
"And what exactly are they doing?" Asked Cossack sceptically.
Mini's smirk grew further. "They're organising a coup against Jeb." I gasped at this statement. "That's not the best part, they're arming The Flux against him. And..." He raised his finger for effect, silencing all of us seeing I was about to interrupt. "We've got a witness who may be willing to come forward!"
"Who?" I burst out far louder than I wanted to, drawing unwanted attention to myself. I recognised a few of the eyes drawn. There was Hippie Beak, Administrator of the Mega Craft. "Don't want that knob-head listening in. Pretty sure he's one of Dom's lot. Is he? Ah well he sucks anyway." I remarked in my head. Also watching were Lunter (over a newspaper), and Synthenos and a few boys from his Order. I pulled Mini away in the other direction and asked the question again in a voice barely above a whisper.
"That kid you chased down. Secret brought him in himself. He was on the verge of breaking down when our boys got him. He's in protective custody at the School now. However, he recovered quickly and has now got some hefty demands to be met. I settled him in myself. That's one of many reasons why I was late."
I smiled and put my arm around Mini's shoulder. "Outstanding work. I'm sure we can meet whatever demands he has. Get all the men involved medals the second they're done. They deserve it. But warn them, this is far from over."
"Will do sir. Further news though." I was surprised by the continuous flow of good news. This was a welcome change. I gestured to my friend to continue hand trembling; feeling positively ecstatic. There was a little twinkle in Mini's large black eyes as he said the next part. "Your old friend has come to take care of Hamish, so to say. Hopefully it will be as amusing for us as it will be agonizing for him. He's ready to enter the council chamber to deal the blow. Also, this arrived for you just as I was about to leave." I was so drunkenly pleased about the first few bits of news I almost didn't notice Mini hand me the little notebook with its golden gilding. Mini's grimace that I assumed was a sly grin was all but wasted on me as I planted it in my pocket, saying how I would read it after session. He seemed every so slightly disappointed but shrugged it off.
And so we began to walk towards Key and the council chambers. Linx insisted that he had left him safe with Extreme and Prippe at the café. "There's nothing at all you need to worry about my liege!" Linx said unnecessarily nervously, I was so placated I wouldn't have been angry had Hamish himself come up and spat in my face there and then. Although based on past experiences I guess he had a reason to be nervous. Last time he'd left a drunken or hung-over Key alone... well I'd rather not talk about that. I still find meal worms in my hair today. I dismissed it before I began to have flashbacks and Cossack got the shakes.
"Its perfectly fine Linx, I'm sure- oh... Oh dear!" There was Key, spoon in hand, stood atop one of the oak tables. His dirty black hair swayed like a drunk as he span around, threatening anyone who came near him with the silver piece of tableware. His dirty military armour was sullied with vomit and wine stains. Even the leather shoulder guard which bore his family crest, the Crest of the Persson family, his last true connection to them since being cast out. That item which he treasured so greatly hung from his shoulder like waste.
"Get back you..." He stopped shouting in his slurred voice momentarily and shrugged in a confused manner. "Bastards! Just! Let! Me! DIE!" He was making an ****-end of himself. I thought best to interject as he started yelling at Prippe about how "immigrants like him" were ruining the country.
"Um... Key?" I tried meekly, approaching slowly. No avail, he didn't even notice me. "Hello?" Again I got bugger all response. I was beginning to grow irritable. "Commander Persson of the Blue Alliance! As king of Gaia's domain and your commanding officer under the treaty of Walthampton I order you to turn your drunken **** around and get off that bloody table!"
Key did not take fondly to this but turned around. He gave me a dead, decomposing stare, with one eye on me and one rolling around loosely in its socket. His head shot back as he sucked down half a bottle of vodka before landing on me again. His alcohol bathed mouth opened slowly, revealing decaying yellow teeth. You could practically see the stench in the air. It was times like this I regretted my charity and cursed my love of puppetry. "You..." He snarled. "You... That Thaumic piece of that I have the misfortune to call a boss!" He practically spat out the last word. In fact he did, the phlegm just missed me. I saw that Synthenos was watching from the corner, smiling wryly. "I cannot believe I allowed myself to sign that glorified diktat! That diktat which stripped me of all my power! I'm glad the man in the bar finally opened my ing beer-drenched eyes to this... bollocks I forgot what I was about to say! Stay buh... stay back!" Extreme had gotten too close and earned himself a kick in the chest. The unfortunate Extreme stumbled back into a suit of armour, bringing down that testament to the might of the True Court with a single swipe of his arm.
Cossack came up and helpfully whispered, "Shall I get the straitjacket Kay? We wouldn't want him hurting himself would we?" It would sound innocent and perhaps slightly over-zealous to anyone else. I however, knowing Cossack, accurately assumed that he simply wanted to torture someone of an income lower than 2,000 imperial sesterces a year.
"No." I tried again. "Key will you please get down from there? You're making an idiot of yourself."
"Well you can go die you little ! You don't even have a country any more! I torched that place myself!" Shouted the renegade, laughing afterwards. As Key moved on to how outraged he was about the size of shot glasses I angrily turned to Cossack.
I told my loyal banker to, "Straitjacket this man 'til kingdom come. Submit your usual torture methods. Make him know the price of tery in Gaia's army!" As Cossack saluted happily and turned to get the straitjacket from one of his guards Linx interjected.
"Please sir, will you not allow me to deal with this? For old times sakes?" My little sneak pleaded. I reluctantly called off Cossack and gestured for Linx to end this.
He walked towards Key purposefully, a steely determination in his eyes. He was like the Erymanthian Boar, totally unstoppable. He hit Key with a glare so strong it would have shattered the walls of the very citadel we now stood within had he stared at it long enough. Key turned, angry, quizzical and uneven face meeting its match in Linx. His face melted and his expression turned to pure shock as Linx kicked the table out from beneath him. Key hit the ground with a thud, the air rushing out of him.
Then, most unexpectedly he began to weep. "I failed." He whimpered. "I'm a pathetic drunk and nothing can change that. I should have known better than to try and pretend I was some great general! I'm a fake! Even the True Court could not be bothered to hide me! Just to denounce me!"
Linx knelt down, his iron-like features staying strong but the metal heating definitely. "Key, you're a good man. You're the most loyal man I've ever met and you've never allowed anything to keep you down. You fought the Brotherhood for years in the face of adversity. Argue what you will against that, your people suffered but if it were not for your efforts the entire Blue Territory would have been sacked and conquered a long time ago. Gaia would have been destroyed before it began and whilst its arguable that helping the Realm didn't pay off in the long run, in fact it totally backfired but you saved great numbers of civilians."
"I faltered at Zine Craft. I looked into the eyes of Herobrine and I ran. I was banished. I deluded myself long enough, pretending I could compensate for my cowardice. Then, in the forum I ran bull-headed in, and I allowed myself to be bested in my idiocy. Void was almost killed as a result, Dawz died and his blood is on my hands. If I had paid even the slightest bit of attention he'd be alive. At the battle for Gaia I faltered again, I was the one leading the defence of the gates and I ran once more!" He punched the ground, as if trying to punish the Earth for allowing his miserable existence.
"We're all scared. You did what you had to and saved a lot of lives in the long run. Besides, you came back didn't you?" Linx reassured Key. "If there's one thing that's for sure about you, no matter how bad it is, you always come back somehow. Always. And that's why I'm proud to call you friend."
Key grinned and jested. "This isn't going to turn into some sappy sitcom is it?"
Linx chuckled. "I suggest we end it here, before people start getting ideas." Linx then pulled the old renegade to his feet, passionately kissed him and returned to my guard.
I firmly planted a hand on his shoulder and mumbled, "Good work... I guess."
Then Dominus and Void and everyone else came out. Then Dom was all like "Void you're like gonna die and !"
Then Void said, "Lol no you r." And Dominus died and everyone shouted out in happiness and all famine was cured in the world!
Then Falcon came out and took off her hood, revealing her to in fact be Celtic wearing a wig the whole time and that he had done it all to get money for his mycelium addiction.
Then Zerg came out (his head looking remarkably like a male genitalia) and said. "Void, ur words of wisdom have touched my hart! I am going to retire from bad-guying and become a humble rock star ice-cream man commando in the land of star wars." Every cheered again. Everything was happy once more and everyone was friends.
Mario joke.
Sonic joke.
We all laugh for no reason.
Freeze frame.
Credits.
THE END!
Then I woke up in a shadowy corridor. By shadowy I don't mean the corridor was dimly lit, it was literally built out of shadow, flowing like smoke. Behind me I heard whispers. I turned. There lay Mo, in the middle of a circle of tall hooded figures. He looked like he was in pain. They were torturing him in some way. His entire body was tightened in response to whatever was happening. It was like they were melting him from the inside. Then, the room began to quake and decay behind me, falling into a great blank whiteness. I began to run frantically towards the circle, not fearing what might happen once I reached there.
Suddenly Mo collapsed. They had stopped. I could see now, he was in some sort of dungeon room, he was pulling himself up on an iron chair. The hooded figures all simply stared at him, unblinking, unmoving. Their hands were that of shiny black stone, as were their faces. Some were frozen as if they had just been saying something but were cut off mid-sentence. One lay shattered on the floor; Mo had been fighting back. I tried to shout to him to keep up the fight, but my voice was but a whisper. Then Mo stood up, swaying slightly. Then he opened his mouth and hoarsely croaked out the words, "What would you have me do?"
Then to my surprise, one of the stone creatures turned to flesh, and spoke to Mo with the mouth of Prodigy, Tass' fallen brother. "Deliver this message; "He will be deceived"" Then as I fell, I clenched my eyes shut and prepared to be consumed. Then, to my surprise, I wasn't completely destroyed. I slammed face first into a strange glass-like surface. In fact, it was glass.
I looked around. I was in the council session. I was hunched over my notes, rocking back and forth. Standing over me was Hamish, in all his two-faced glory. Around me my allies stared and cheered Hamish on, hurling abuse at me from all sides. I attempted to stand and draw my weapon but I was held down by great black chains. In each link was engraved a different word; "blasphemy"; "murder"; theft"; "betrayal"; "envy"; "Dwarf-tossing". How poetic, being weighed down by my own sins. I would have laughed and applauded its designer had it not stated consensual dwarf-tossing was a sin and had it not been holding me down as my nemesis approached, loading his pistol.
"I hear you've been writing an autobiographical piece Kay." Hamish mockingly chided as he snapped off the safety. "Allow me to help you with it. Here's a pretty good ending." And with that he raised the gun and shot me in the chest.
No more were we in the council session. We were back to basics. Hamish had fired the bullet at close range through the Professor's skull into my chest. I was falling backwards off of the cliff. Except this time I was fully grown, and the bullet had shattered the façade that was Kay Mandy, king of the Gaians, Try Hard Pantser, Herobrine's finest and all those other meaningless titles like brittle china. As I fell backwards off the cliff it fell away further until nothing was left, just Kay, that strange child who washed up on the shore one day. Then the water below me turned into that familiar sea of shadows and I was sucked under once more.
Yet I did not fall into another scene. I was very much drowning, being tossed around like a ragdoll by a spoilt child. I felt the chill of the shadowy waters and of death gripping me, and then I let out my last breath and sank to the bottom. From the bed sprang up trees, and vines and bushes I was in the forests of Ecaria, consumed by the shadowy water. I rose wearily. I was still underwater, as I was still slow in motion and unable to see far before me, yet I could breath without issue. Was I dead at this point? I am not sure.
A path emerged from the ground before me, guiding me onwards. I wandered for... god knows how long. All I know is that by the time I arrived where it wanted me, I was an old man. There before me stood the Falcon, her back turned, only her cloak visible. I don't know how I knew it was her, I just new. I drew Amicus and charged at her. Despite my war cry she didn't notice me. As I cleaved off her head her cloak went limp as a sheet and fell to the side. From the cloak emerged a wild goose, which then turned into a raven, and then once more into a great bald eagle as it flew off.
I looked down, disappointed with my failure, wheezing from the effort. She had been standing over a grave, an open grave. I wondered who it was, so my weary eyes lingered up. There, on the tombstone was my name. Dread flushed through my body and I turned to flee. There, standing right before me, was Dominus.
In his left hand he held a candlestick with "Void" carved into it. Then, he blew a little breath, a breath so insignificantly small it felt like a gale. and the flame jerked momentarily, and then was gone. I fell backwards into my grave. Then, standing over me was the silhouette of a man I assumed was Dominus, who dropped in Starletts' broken watch. Then, without warning, water flowed in buckets into the grave and once more I was drowning. Then last thing I saw before dying was a broken clock, ticking away the same tick over and over again, singing me to sleep.
I jerked back into consciousness in our booth in the Council room. I stood bolt-upright and immediately yelled "Cossack! Where's my bloody notepad, that was gold!" Then I realised I'd said that out loud, and who was speaking. I seemed to be developing a knack for interrupting Dominus' speeches. "Um yeah. Cracking speech Dom. I must... err... take notes for future reference!"
"I just accused you of being an illegal immigrant." Dominus responded confusedly from the speakers podium in the centre of the chamber. "I provided evidence with a testimony from this heroic young Inquisition officer who knew you from your childhood. " He gestured to Hamish, who waved cheekily at me. Over in the royal booth Jeb was eying me angrily. He seemed to remember me vaguely. Herobrine was looking troubled. Dinner Bone was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh... oh dear." I stammered. "Well played." My heart sank, it was over for me. I could barely believe it but I was over.
"Kay. You can't do this." Cossack objected firmly.
"I sadly don't have much say in the matter." I reluctantly said. "It'll only be worse if I deny. I am in fact not of Mojang birth and had my citizenship stripped upon my arrest in Zine Craft."
Then the guards arrived at our booth, and I submitted myself for arrest. When Mini, who had been face-palming and shaking his head rose, pulled the scroll he'd handed me earlier from my pocket. Apparently I hadn't dreamed it all up.
"Read this." He said irritably, unfurling it for me.
My jaw dropped as I read the declaration of my citizenship, as signed by a man who I could confirm was Hamish's personal secretary. "Oh, never mind! I'm a citizen now!"
Herobrine, who had been drinking tea at the time immediately spat it out. "Well that was fast! Where was the suspense? The tension? The pay-off? The cinematic camera angles? The spiteful confrontation between Kay and Hamish? Waste of good tickets there people!"
This inspired a wave of laughter from the entire room. Even a few members of Dom's inner circle were amused, Synthenos especially. I appreciated my old master's humour. I decided to capitalise on this.
"Mini." I enquired breezily. "Is our friend ready to testify again the "honourable" officer Hamish. If we can honestly claim that's his REAL name." This aroused a gasp and Dominus looked positively horrified. A situation where he had me under his thumb had turned to his competence if not his honesty coming into question. It also put pressure on the recently arrived Dinner Bone, as he was de facto head of the Inquisition.
"Why yes my liege. Our friend is here." Mini responded in a semi-justifiably malicious way. "Mateo, would you be a dear an help our old friend in? He must be ever so tired."
Five minutes later our friend walked in to proudly take the podium. An old, wrinkled, hunched-over man with one stump for an arm was limping into the room with help from Mini. It was one of the guards who had been present at the death of Flame. After the confrontation I had found him alive but wounded and patched him up. Upon my later return I had discovered he had became the local baker and had spread the word of my innocence. With a brief clearing of his throat he began his testimony.
Ten minutes later he was still rambling on. Void was grinning down at me from the Administrator booths, toasting a wine glass to me. Even the administrator I had seen Dominus with earlier was enjoying this at his allies expense. The other leaders of the Vanilla Craft who were members of the Great Houses were enjoying the novelty of watching Hamish attempt escape for the 6th consecutive time. I for one was just enjoying watching Hamish squirm, like an ant under a twig. It was a refreshing change of places. Dominus had excused himself formally to "attend to personal matters" and had left a flustered looking Jiibrael in his place. "And that's why we call Notch "the great banana in the sky" where I come from." Finished the old baker.
"Well then." Said Jeb, unsure what he had just heard. "We managed to get just enough out of that to suspend Hamish from active duty." In response to the outcry from the Great Houses he successfully placated them with the words, "We will work on deciphering this tonight, and we'll have a formal hearing set up in two days." Even I grudgingly sat down, allowing myself to feel certain that Hamish will be tried formally before a court with the odds against him for once. I thoroughly assured myself that it would not be like his trial after the Onslaught. He would lose this time.
"Now, that ate well into the session for today." articulated Herobrine. "5 hours really flies by when there's a bit of drama doesn't it. Let us meet again tomorrow at the same time. Session adjourned."
And with that we left, not one of us noticing the silhouetted figure watching us from the unmarked booth across from us. Nor did we notice how the blind reveller beside him held up an unlit cigar to his lips, and press the hidden button upon it. Least of all did we notice the glint of silver that flew into Dominus' administrator friend's direction, or how it ate into his flesh. What we did notice was how he began to splutter, and choke, and then topple over the bannister, and soar down on top of the podium, and crush it beneath his girth. By the time we had a chance to notice either of the two figures, they were gone into the shadows.
Part 9: The Negotiation
The night was still as it could be, as if anticipating what was about to happen, and simply waiting for the fireworks to go off. "Into the lion's den." Thought I in grim anticipation. As the wagon clattered towards Dominus' compound I took a moment to survey our forces. There was the traditional Gaian unit of Linx, Mateo, Extreme, EB and NC. All of these were armed with muskets and combat knives and were dressed in ceremonial kit (now with light bronze armour pieces on the chest, shoulders and legs) simply to show their enemy exactly who they were dealing with. All had a single-minded determination to protect Gaia's interests at all costs during this mission. At the back were two men, Tejmin and Prippe. Both were dressed in the coal black jumpsuits and berets of Gaian special ops. Their mission was more shady.
Tejmin and Prippe were to infiltrate Dom's base whilst the rest of us pretended to be diplomatic or confrontational as the situation demanded it. Dominus had a vault deep within his little fortress. He had chosen this place for a reason, and a specific one at that. The house he had chosen was not only his ancestral home, but had a complex labyrinth of tunnels beneath it. These pre-dated the Golden Revolution. Before the Golden Revolution they had been used to help smuggle whiskey and other valuables in a vast criminal empire. After the Golden Revolution they had been used to hide and or smuggle out Notch's enemies; the lords who had displeased him, war criminals etc. Basically anyone who could afford the price of "rehabilitation"-as Dom had called it in an old speech- would receive it.
In recent years, since the Domini line had left to follow Qustom and Void away from Notch's reaches the house had fallen into disrepair. However, not long before Dominus staged his coup, in fact about 1 year before, someone had been sent from his household to fix the place up. We had discovered that Dominus' family had used it as a place to store information before leaving, and he had hoped to use the ol' reliable method for the duration of his war on Void. It was divided into a series of vaults. We only wanted access to one vault, the vault on Operation Overlord and by connection, the Family. And so we chose Tejmin (our best available commando) and our finest safe-cracker, Prippe. We were, (in a similar fashion to the infiltration of the Citadel) to distract the forces of the Realm. If they were caught, they were deny any orders from the Kingdom or Void. They were operating of their own accord in what they thought were in the best interests of Vanilla Craft. We had even put out word that they had gone renegade. It was a routine operation.
As for the rest of our party; there was Aaron, my personal bodyguard on this mission. As usual he wore his diamond shell with pride, this being the same shell in which he had slain Antioch. He had insisted upon wearing it here so that he could claim to be "Steeped in the blood of their greatest warrior. So that they know who it was who bested the greatest of their men and tremble when they look upon me. And should Antioch rise from the grave and come looking for me, he might see the blade that slew him, and run back to whatever tomb he came from and shut the gates to the land of the dead behind him." To be honest, as usual with Aaron, I'm not sure whether he was simply being theatrical; whether he was taking the ; or whether he genuinely considered this to be a possibility.
Also of Gaia's domain was Brit. He was wearing his finest pale tan suit (which was like his usual ones but there were fewer stains on this one). The fabric was coarse and thick, but it was warm. The waistcoat was of a muddy brown beneath the blanketing jacket. He wore his scarlet tie over a cream white shirt, which in turn lay over a thick vest. In addition to his usual outfit was a matching tan, trilby hat wrapped in a black band dark as the night sky. Nestled in his top pocket were two things. The first was his pocket handkerchief with his monogram inlaid in silver. The second was his tin lighter, which proudly poked over the top. In his lapel was stapled a single lively violet. From beneath his jacket came the barely distinguishable bulge of a Brit's personal pistol.
We had called in Key as well. I honestly can't remember what exactly happened in the hallway (due to a highly confusing dream sequence) but apparently Linx had cheered him up and Cossack had still straitjacketed him. He was back in his old steel shell, with its lapis plating and of course, his shoulder pad was proudly mounted in place. He had a cautious optimism in his eye, like he thought things were finally turning around but was bracing himself for things to go down the ter at any moment. Atop his head was a navy blue bandana, and his old dog tags were entwined around his neck like vines. He was customarily dirty and he was covered in hidden knives. With him he had brought two soldiers, both dressed in a similar fashion.
We had also brought in aid from the other peoples of the Vanilla Craft. First there was Atreidon; The Archangel; The Mad Dog; Ben to his friends. He was still bloody depressed and I was still unsure quite why. He had gone from mournfulness to a sort of reluctant submissiveness. Everything about him seemed like he'd just given up entirely. His armour was unpolished, and his hair and face unwashed. His cherished spear was carelessly propped against his leg. His eyes lingered on certain minor landmarks through the back of the wagon, then darting onto the next as it left his field of view, like a child growing bored whilst walking and falling behind their parent, then panicking as they realised how far back they'd fallen and running to their mother or father and beginning the cycle again. He had grown a thick beard in the time since Aegis. His skin was faded in colour and he had dropped a couple of pounds.
Then there was Brothers Tauto, Jay and Komplex of the Brotherhood. Both were fully equipped and ready for war, as long as it was required. To be honest, since their failure at the Nether Hub the Brotherhood had lost a lot of their previous malice. They'd never admit it but I think they were impressed by what happened there, but also were slightly intimidated. Not only had Arcation reared their heads and confirmed themselves as definite and competent opposition to their power, the other peoples of the Craft had given them hell also. Since then they'd attempted to get on the good sides of the other clans and families, directing their attention towards Arcation and the Gaians specifically. Now, with relations mending between the Gaians and the Brotherhood, Arcation was their main rival.
Directly across from the three Brothers were their counter-parts in Arcation; Gogyst, Walkers and Shadows. Even now the two groups contested for dominance of the wagon as they grappled with their iron-fisted gazes. Gogyst was tapping on his staff with his new, sleek, black, metal-skinned hand, the clangs absent-mindedly tapping out an old classical tune. Every now and then Tauto would glare specifically at Gogy's hand, as if calculating his odds of chopping it off before one of the others gutted him. Walkers had rebuilt his great stone wall of a shield, adding a layer of diamond on to it. Shadows was sitting there with his battle-axe, the only one not partaking in the extreme staring contest. Instead he was attempting to catch up on some sleep as Jolly's eyes burrowed into his jugular.
Then, as we trundled up the cobbled stones the house of our common enemy came into plain view. Around us began to crop up tents filled with the soldiers of the Realm. People of all seven kingdoms and beyond were present despite the decreased numbers of some. I was disturbed that there were quite so many, but in the end I was not surprised. Dominus had brought the Realm's council back up to full strength. To replace Sword as king of the men of the Aetherial plains was a man known as Trooping Gnome. He was a soldier, plain and simple. He thought without mercy and acted without remorse. He fought by the book and took orders straight from the top like they were holy commandments etched into his own chest by Jeb himself. However, he was also a charismatic speaker and a strong leader, the ideal person to reunite the splintered fragments of that once great kingdom.
To replace Jared was Pebbles. Pebbles was the former leader of a band of assassins from the Kingdom of Florin called the Reapers of Death. Little was known of him other than his love of jazz music and that he was particularly handy with a bull-whip.
To replace Epsilon was Drakon of Valhalla. He was the ideal candidate. He was an experienced leader, with a long history of fighting both guerrilla and pitched warfare since the liberation of Valhalla during the Brotherhood-Realm war by the Realm, the Gaians, the Wedgians with help from the Blue Alliance and other underground groups. Sadly, this liberation was the reason he was such a useful figurehead to Dom. He was undyingly loyal to him due to Valhalla' liberation, placing the success of the liberation of Valhalla entirely upon him.
On either side of us the soldiers of Dominus were beginning to gather and glare. That is when I realised, there were more than just soldiers of the Realm gathered here. Yes there were the mercenaries, but an entire regiment of Mojang soldiers had appeared to have defected (not there to regulate, purely defecting; wearing the flag of the Realm on their chests), as well as a number of men from the other Crafts. I always knew he had their political support, and the occasional great family would run off and join Dominus' ranks, but now Administrators with their full private armies were showing up.
Then we jerked to a stop. Before us were the gates into Dom's compound. They swung open shakily but quickly on its creaky hinges to show Tryhard and a small platoon of Jiibrael's samurai. They encircled the wagon like birds of prey, ready to go in for the kill the second we stepped out of line. I gave the order and we all hopped out in twos, until we were standing in a crowd before Tryhard.
Taking nervous glances around Aaron muttered to me, "We should have brought more men."
"We're here to negotiate." I reminded him.
"What happens if the negotiations turn aggressive?" He asked sceptically.
"We'll see to that when it happens." I confidently rebutted. He rolled his eyes and returned to scanning the crowd, muttering something about the odds of Hamish having a "personal attack elephant". I smiled to myself and turned to face Tryhard. "Yes?"
"Just some routine checks." Grunted Tryhard. "You two, Search the wagon. I want you back in five minutes or else." Then two soldiers saluted in the traditional manner and ran into our vessel. I prayed they didn't find Tejmin or Prippe. I could see that our company was growing increasingly nervous. Hands were on the hilts of weapons. Sweat ran down temples. Eyes darted around Hamish's ranks. Then, the two guards jumped out and shouted "all clear!". I scratched my head a moment, fighting the urge to frown; unsure what exactly had just happened. Were they bribed? Are Dom's men mutinous? Did this have an ulterior motive? Is this perhaps related to rumoured infighting? and was part of an effort to discredit Tryhard or some other figure? Then I realised it. The two guard were lying dead inside the carriage. Tejmin and Prippe had taken the uniforms and hidden the bodies in the hidden compartments beneath the seats.
Then the pair sought to be dismissed; Tryhard consented. And thus, with a joint salute they marched past the ruins of Dom's dining hall and towards the forge and the makeshift barracks. They were beyond my help now, I prayed they would be okay.
Now, what was my mission you might ask? Was I here to stall for time? To threaten Dominus? To do Void's bidding? To defect? To beg for mercy? To pick up a package that To settle an old score? In answer I would say -in order, No. No. Not on direct orders. Of course not! *slaps reader for allowing this thought to cross their mind* As to the last one, to a certain degree, yes. The events of the council session in which Hamish was suspended took place the day before. Astro was to meet with us tomorrow. Today, Dominus was attempting to regain face, rally his current allies and gain potential new ones via a council of guests. Yet, I was not here for that. I was here to allow Hamish a chance to shorten his sentence (via getting us to drop some minor charges) in return for information. A lack of interference from Dominus and his leading generals was ideal, leaving only Tryhard as the command opposition. And well... no offense to the man but Tryhard is like the Lestrade of Dom's high command. Incredibly loyal, honourable to a certain degree and undeniably by-the-book but lacked a great deal of finesse and could be outwitted by introducing even a small variation on a tactic he knew already.
I looked up and saw one of Hamish's men glaring down at us through a pair of Galilean binoculars from Hamish's own balcony. The moon shone down on the wooden balcony, and dimly illuminating the thug as he turned and called to his master. He was leaning on the scratched wooden banister, staring over the shriveled brown shrubs in the plant box. These plants that were hung by a fragile noose from the balcony. In fact, some appeared to have been burned, and quite recently at that.
Then the great doors swung open and we were greeted by a ed off looking Fabio tossing out a drunken Viral. "And stay out you lousy drunkard!" Cried the familiar falsetto. "God! I frickin' hate you! Argh!" He looked down at our bemused faces and said indignantly of the incident, "People like him are the reason no one takes me seriously! I'm a serious guy! Does this face not look serious to you?"
"Not in the slightest." British grunted. "Now are you going to let us in or not?"
"Fine! The weird two-faced police officer says he'll only allow four of you up; no weapons while you're up there." Fabio said unhappily and then smugly as he leaned against the door frame and held up a silver tray before us, shaking it.
I turned reluctantly to face my company. "Gogyst, you keep the lads from Arcation here. As ironic as this sounds I'd rather Hamish stayed alive this time round." His eyes narrowed slightly but he accepted reluctantly. Relations between us had been strained as of late. I simply didn't have the patience to deal with his extremist antics these days. I continued, "Key, you stay here too. I'm sorry but after that incident in the Citadel we're going to have to ask you to stay here so that Hamish takes us seriously. Not that you aren't intimidating though. Its just that we're feeding him enough ammo as it is."
"Perfectly understandable Kay." Key responded easily.
"Okay then, so I'll take Aaron and British and we need one other person. Atreidon?" He shook his head and held up his hand formally and I nodded in response. "How about you Totty?"
"Me?" Tauto stammered in a surprised manner. He seemed astounded we were even on speaking terms. "Wouldn't you rather take Komplex?"
"Too easy for Hamish to manipulate. No offense to Komplex but his weaknesses are common knowledge among Dom's men now. Besides, your more subtle nature is needed. We have Brit and Aaron to slap him around if necessary." I smiled friendlily. He nodded and we rose up the stairs.
As we passed the silver box one by one we deposited our weapons. I calmly relinquished Amicus, my perk and my dagger. Aaron grudgingly tossed his great sword to one of the guards, as it was too massive even to consider leaving it in the silver basin. As Tauto passed he tossed his sword and perk into the basin, stabbed his knife into the nearby table and stopped. He then pulled off his magical glove, veiled his knife in the cherished item and laid the two items into the silver cradle like a mother laying their child down to rest.
Then British came up, and pulled out his cherished pistol. This was his prized possession, a piece of ancient machinery he'd adapted into a small firearm with a revolving cartridge. It fired quickly, far quicker than a perk and was easier to aim, and the safety worked far more accurately. He called it a "rotator" and I was worried he was about to redecorate the green-papered walls with Fabio's face judging from the look he gave the man. However, maintaining his grumpy manner he pulled out the revolver with his arm in an "L" shape so that it was higher than his head. He then turned in a full circle to get show the weapon to all of them, bobbing his head gently at each individual guard. He then slowly turned around, clicked out the cartridge and shook it out into the basin. Brit then lifted it up before Fabio's now uneasy face and snapped the cartridge back in loudly, before walking off to re-join us; stuffing his weapon back into his pocket as he went.
"Quite the performance there." Tauto chimed as Fabio guided us to Hamish's room.
"Thank you." Brit grunted in a slightly friendlier manner than usual. "I pride myself on being reasonably well-trained in the theatrical arts. Come in handy over the years."
"You should really take it further." Tauto suggested absent-mindedly as he pulled on a black glove to replace. "I was hanging on your every word."
"Yes, perhaps Kay'll supply you with scripts. You can start your own theatre company." Jested Aaron from the back of our crowd. We laughed despite ourselves and our present circumstance. Along our way we witnessed a large room, containing a sprawling dining room table with roughly 50 men seated. At its head was Dominus, Zerg, and a bandaged Ellen. Then we came to the ebony door of Hamish. Fabio opened it gently, as if attempting not to wake a small child, or a sleeping pit bull.
Let's check Hamish's set-up- make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, Ebony desks? Check. Weird chemistry sets brewing god knows what? Check. Portrait of his host before possession hanging over a creepy fireplace? Check. Bearskin rug? Check. Mounted creeper head? Check. Old Thaumic artefacts? Check. Flowerpot with an Endblossom in it? Check. Sinister armchair turned away from us? Check. Thug standing on a balcony with shrivelled plants? Of course check. Hamish himself? Strangely not present.
Then I saw that there was a door right beside the fireplace, which was open ajar. A wee slit of light slipped across the carpet, desperate to be avoided. Occasionally a silhouette would flit across it. From within the crack came random mumblings of no coherent nature to anyone but the speaker. I gestured to the others to stay in this room, as I crept slowly towards the door, each step across the polished wooden floor was a waterfall louder than I would have liked. Then, reaching the door, I stretched out my arm and nudged it open. Light flooded the living room, but nothing else left this hidden study.
The first thing I noticed was the "spider's web" of string running from wall to wall but, more on that later. Also within this study was a board containing another desk, with a great velvet armchair. across from this was a great board holding small named sketches, portraits and photos of a number of members of the Great Houses labelled "him???" Then to the right of that there was a similar board, containing a completely different set of images (though there were some exceptions) labelled "victims?". On both walls of pictures and names one man stood out. The administrator Dom had been friends with was on both lists. On the "him???" list he had a large red X through his face. On the victims list however, he was circled, and Hamish had scrawled "investigate immediately" on a crumpled sheet of paper below. I looked up and realised half of the great council were up there. All had a series of strings attached to them, leading to various newssheet articles around the walls of the room. Various scandals, murders, mysterious disappearances. On urface level there was no connection. Yet, in some way all of them came back to the one picture frame.
All were linked back to one single, insignificant picture frame. This was lacking in any photograph, portrait or even a crude sketch of anyone discernible. All that was there were two small newssheet clippings. The first was of Dom's late father's coronation; the other of his death. In the background a silhouetted figure in the background was circled with the word "him" connected to it by an arrow. I had heard this story many times. Dominus II had had a secret advisor, who had been friends with his father and friends with him. No one knew who he was apart from supposedly Dom II's father, Orion. A total enigma, he appeared throughout a number of photos from Dom II's reign. However, he was always hooded, or had himself positioned in a way that silhouetted him. Multiple theories had sprung up about who he was, ranging from him being an Endling spy, a disgraced noble - some even declared him to be Herobrine himself. The descriptions of him differed, from charming and handsome, to reclusive and nervous, to creepy and insulting. The description of him as a silhouette however, was the one that stuck, gaining him the nickname "The Silhouette".
Now, here's where it gets interesting. The day Dominus II was about to deliver a highly important public statement, he and his brother were found dead in the throne room. Both were dead of what could only be described as a simultaneous heart-attack. It gets better, the doors were locked, and the guards that were present that day disappeared before they could give a proper account of what happened. All that could be gathered was that the two brothers had a confrontation with The Silhouette in which he grew angry and stormed out, with the doors being locked behind him. Shortly after the two simply choked slightly and fell dead. There was a photo of a hooded figure many claimed had identified as The Silhouette positioned just below the coronation photo. In this photo there was a hooded figure in a black cloak. He was walking straight down the great steps of the R7K citadel, back when it was still under construction. Men and women were standing on either side of the staircase, parted like the red sea. All eyes were on him, yet no man who seemed to be of any stature gazed at him not in curiosity, but in utter terror. That was the sort of effect this man had. He was untouchable, and anyone who came too close had much to fear.
Then a throat was cleared behind me, catching myself and my entourage off guard completely; causing me to jump (having been completely absorbed in my thoughts and the clippings on the wall. I span around, heart-pounding. There was Hamish. He was dressed all in black, apart from a white shirt. His tie was a deep purple. The beard he always proudly sported, was thicker than normal, and he had taken the time to grow sideburns. His hair had been flattened and lathered with gel. His blackened and charred skin was particularly twisted today. His purple eye was glazed over entirely, with the candlelight of highlighting its glassy surface. His other eye was still that deep blue, the firelight dancing within it entrancingly. Beneath both eyes were heavily embedded rings, In his lapel was a shrivelled flower. Covering his hands were two bland white gloves, one of which hid his shrivelled Endling hand. The corner of his mouth was curled into a permanent smug sneer, persistently mocking anyone it fell upon. It was hard to not punch him immediately.
"You almost gave me a heart attack you smug wee *******." I said as dignified as possible, hand on my chest as my lungs heaved and heart pounded.
"Really? I must be slipping. For 11 years and two days ago I would have done just that with the mere mention of my name." At this point I interjected, stiffly correcting him that it was 11 years and three days ago since he had any vague effect on me of that nature. "Ah yes." He continued, speech flowing with snake-like ease and dripping with venom that would make any snake jealous. "I forgot about that time you threw a tantrum on a bridge." I rolled my eyes at my allies, attempting fruitlessly to minimise Hamish. "Oh dear Kay! I just noticed! Your eye! Such a pity. You always had such wonderful eyes. I always hoped I'd be the one to put them out, make us more alike. Plus... I suppose it acts as repayment." He stroked his purple eye. "That's right, its completely useless apart from when I return to my true form. As you might imagine, I don't do that particularly often." The cold so deep it felt was like he just took a newly formed icicle from his balcony in Winter and began stabbing me repeatedly with it. Realising this was far from beyond Hamish's abilities and well within his standards, I noted to stand between him and any icicles in future encounters.
"Oh! And you've still got the scarf and goggles! How adorable! Oh Kay you never change do you?" Hamish cried out enthusiastically. He was met by my best attempt at being stone-faced which only egged him on if anything. "Might I remind you, that I'm not just everything you hate, but I'm everything you hate about yourself. Or, rather what you might become. Am I getting through to you at all? No? Ah of course I am. I only need implant the idea, and you'll come to that conclusion eventually. Ah who am I kidding I can't do the whole "I am you" routine. So cliché! Am I right fellas? Oh terribly sorry! Where are my manners?" And so he turned to face my entourage, all of whom looked slightly unnerved by the overfriendly demeanour, Aaron and British knowing just how bad he was, and Totty seemingly wondering what the man was smoking.
"Aaron! Too long it has been since we last crossed paths." Aaron retorted by saying time must pass much slower for Endlings. Hamish's face fell slightly, the malice creeping in rapidly. "Oh you crack me up Aaron! You really do! With your "sharp" wit. Your honed military mind. Even your wild imagination is appealing to me. Yet, the best, and most hilarious thing about you, is just how blindly loyal you are. That gives me leverage over you, because you're so easily manipulated!" He chuckled. "Ooh! And that's what Kay likes about you isn't it?"
"Shut up Hamish." Aaron grunted.
"A nice little sheep,"
"I said be quiet."
"Lost without a shepherd."
"Shut up!" Aaron shouted, throwing his hands over his ears like a small child, clenching his eyes shut and shaking. Hamish was tormenting him, using an old Endling torture method. Just a simple tone, which could reduce a man to a mental pulp within the hour. Hamish had used it on me once or twice. I knew the torment it brought, the bad memories, the nightmares, the chilling fear. I wouldn't wish that upon Dominus himself. I would have felled him had his man on the balcony not been training a crossbow on my jugular.
"Little Bo Peep shall leave her sheep,: they will not know where to find her. The wolf watches sharp, deep in the dark,: Oh why Bo Peep? You liar..." The sing-song tone was enough to send chills up any man's spine. The fact that Hamish had slowly leant in, until he was mere inches from Aaron's face, blowing cold, foul-smelling clouds of air into his face made it even worse.
"Leave me alone." Came Aaron's quivering voice. His eyes were still clenched shut. His fists were also tightened to the point where his knuckles were turning white. He was shaking all over, and was breaking out in a cold sweat.
Hamish leant back, satisfied. He sniffed, smirked and turned over to British. "You wouldn't mind if I take off my gloves? It just feel's so bloody formal like this!" British nodded respectfully and Hamish did so. The glove peeled off like the skin from a banana, smoothly but nonetheless in a manner that suggests it is uncomfortable for one party in the peeling. One hand was perfectly normal, but the other was a black, charred, talon-like arm. "So, British isn't it? Lord, you haven't aged a day. Still a private eye? Of course you are. Arms maker now too? Conman, still I'd reckon."
In response British growled, "All a matter of perspective Mr 'amish. Some might say I'm a conman. However, many of them they are illiterate. I'd say its simply my having good taste in customers."
"Well then. I'll take your word for it." Hamish's smile thinned slightly. He was ever so slightly disappointed. Brit had effectively blunted his first line of assault. Hamish never liked direct physical confrontation - as a first line of attack anyway. He much preferred to find a person's weaknesses, figuring out how best to make them completely lacking in credibility or figuring out how to blackmail them into the position of being a non-entity, or if that wasn't worthwhile, beat the out of them before doing this. "That's a wonderful flower you have there. Truly. I always loved violets. Very reminiscent of the little blossoms of the Farlands." He reached out with his blackened hand. The violet reflected in his eyes sadly. Then the talons touched the little petals, and it turned to brittle charcoal. "Sorry, never did know my own strength." He straightened his tie as the violet crumbled over Brit's suit, much to his irritation.
Lastly was Tauto, who was regarding Hamish with mild amusement. "So," Hamish began. "Who's this? A new face? How exciting!" Just as Tauto was about to respond Hamish cut across him. "No wait! Brother Tauto Chrone! Sorry I always forget you, all of you Brotherhood natives look the same to me. Nothing special here. What is it that Kay calls you? Totty?" Tauto's jaw hung open slightly. "Yeah, that's right. I know you. I know every little detail about you. I know who you are. Where you live. I know who you work for. I know who your friends are. I even know what you had for breakfast! Before you ask, cheese omelette, with ham, potatoes, and peas. You had a side of toast, topping of butter, fully melted, just the way you like it. To drink you had orange juice, a slight bit of opium sprinkled in to calm your nerves. You've been doing that since you lost the Nether Hub according to my unnamed sources. Don't bother asking, I won't tell you and if you press the point you'll be dead by the end of the week." He said it all so fast the rest of us had trouble deciphering it. Tauto seemed to be realising the depth of this situation now.
"I can also tell you what you don't know. Like the fact that your boss, Tubby is downstairs right now getting smashed with his new friend Dom. Why don't you know that? I know the answer to that, as do you - Totty. Tubbs. Doesn't. TRUST. YOU! He resents you. He's ed off you upstaged his little protégé, Komplex. He's ed off you took over without his knowledge. He's ed off, because he thought you were second rate. He always championed Komplex as the best candidate for leadership of the chapter. And you went and made him look like a RETARD!" Hamish applauded him. "'Bout time someone put him in his place by the way." He patted the disbelieving Tauto on the shoulder. "Now, to my point. I know all this, so I know what you're about to do. And I will advise you against it with all my willpower. For both our benefits." Hamish leant in close and snarled, "Don't. Threaten. ME!" He was shaking in rage at something Tauto hadn't even done yet, but we all know was coming.
Tauto cleared his throat. "I simply was going to "advise" you to find someone new to torment. Kay is my -pot now. Has been for the last 10, maybe 11 years. I'm not going to let some upstart young mutt come and slobber all over my hard earned chew toy, because he used him as newspaper back when he was a pup." I was utterly shocked at this sudden defence from Totty of all people. Tauto lightly nudged a seething Hamish back from him. "Now don't even think about threatening me."
I was shocked. Had Hamish met his match? No, he was about to respond violently when I quickly changed the subject. "So, who's the Silhouette?"
"Huh?" Hamish said, suddenly and confusedly. His clenched fists loosened slightly. His head whipped round to meet my question.
"Who is he?" I inquired, shrugging. "The man you've devoted an entire secret room to discovering the identity of?"
"Ah, him. Please, before I begin allow me to offer you all a seat." Hamish said, his interest diverted. Like I said, he hates physical confrontation and would much rather find something he could mock us with before unnecessarily staining his suit. "I forgot that name. Tried to anyway. Took to calling him "The Patron" instead. I suppose Silhouette is more relatable to you simpletons." He then pulled his gloves back on and forgot about Tauto.
"Why's that?" British asked edgily.
"Well hard-nose, its simple. Dominus wants to find out who killed his daddy. I want to do business with a higher class of crook."
"I know, blackmail and slander is just so basic. Much too simple for a playground bully of your calibre." Tauto remarked scathingly.
"You know what Brother Totty? I'm getting sick of your tone very quickly!" Hamish warned, spinning to point a finger at Tauto. "You'd best watch your step or-"
"You were saying Hamish?" I interrupted.
"Fine." He said grumpily. "Dom wants daddy's killer brought to justice. I want to do business with a higher class of crook. The Family provided me with the ties to Dom, and as a result gave me a way of hunting down the Silhouette in my free time. So, once I find out who it is -and my contract expires of course- I take my money; I rob Dom blind and run as fast as my little legs can carry me. I wait for the Dominus to fall, resurface, and then I run off to find the Silhouette and get in with the big dogs. The upper class of crime."
"You've come a long way from the Court of Whispers Hamish." I retorted. "Now, how might one find this Silhouette?" I needed to get him to completely forget about Tauto.
"Don't bother asking me Kay." He laughed. "I barely know. I wouldn't advise it either. Because the closer you get to him. The closer he gets to you. I'm safe because he wants me to-" Hamish stopped. "I've said enough. No! Too much! You idiot! Human minds are so goddamn feeble! Always searching for the goddamn answer! No regard for what it brings!" I was honestly unsure who he was talking to. I decided to change the subject yet again.
"To be honest Hamish, you didn't answer Brit's question. Why did you start calling him the Patron? Besides the obvious reason. There always is one for you." I pried. Hamish's eyes narrowed.
Hamish's face turned to an irritated-neutral face. "As ever Kay, you're ever so slightly sharped than the rest of the spoons you persist in surrounding yourself with. Well then, I shall answer his question." Hamish straightened his tie and opened his mouth slowly. He paused a moment and then began to speak. "The Patron is of course more accurate to his profession. Its like the title of "Godfather" given to the leader of most crime families. Except, he views his associates more as freed slaves who he now has a responsibility to look after and who have a duty to protect him; "clients" so to say. He seems to believe he committed an act of compassion for them by releasing them from his full grip and letting them into his circle. Nutter I'll admit but he gets done." He smiled to himself a moment. "Now, as for my other reason. I'm sure you remember that old nursery rhyme that used to fascinate you and the professor back home?"
"Of course. The Plains of Acrisius. Don't see the connection here. The prophecy within that was completed at Zine Craft. Its irrelevant now."
"Yes, so most religious fanatics say, and all the historical experts Dinner Bone could threaten. Let me ask you this Kay. How the hell can Notch be Silhouette? And of course, where are the fields of Acrisius? More relevantly, who is the Falcon?" There was now a glint in Hamish's eyes. I knew where he was going and was unwilling to join his
"Its a flawed interpretation but you surely can't be suggesting that it will come true due to this Silhouette? I mean, its pretty easily concluded that Acrisius is an old name for the Divine's Territory from before the Golden Revolution and "The Dark Years". Acrisius does literally translate in Divine as "The Old Land of Peace". I'll admit the Falcon line is quizzical and there are some parallels in terms of naming but one can assume that Israphel is the Falcon in this context. He abandoned the Divines for the Endlings and left them to their fate."
"Explain away all you like Servant." Hamish cuttingly retorted, directly referencing the rhyme. "It won't make any difference. The fact of the matter is that at the very least part of the prophecy is going to come true, and very soon." He was so sure of himself, even thinking about arguing with him was pointless. Satisfied he wasn't going to go after Tauto and seeing he was in a decent mood I moved on to business at last.
"So Hamish, enough poetry debate. I believe I have an offer to make you." I began.
"No. None that I want to hear anyway." Hamish's voice was disgustingly genuine.
"But why?" Aaron asked incredulously. "You haven't even heard it yet?"
"Because I already know what's coming dimwit!" Hamish cried, outraged by the "stupidity" of "the common man". "You're going to offer me a few minor charges being dropped against me so that no life imprisonment can be made. They are unable to legally execute me, as a foreign citizen and it would risk all out war with the Court of Whispers if they did. And of course, they cannot extradite me because of what I know. Therefore the only other option left is lifetime imprisonment. You're going to offer my "freedom" in return for information on Dominus and the family." I was just about to demand how he knew this when he answered me. "Don't bother asking me Kay, I love to show off far too much to leave you hanging for more than 30 seconds without amazing you. I thought you'd know that by now. I guess 11 years really is a long time. Who would have thunk it? Ah well! I know it because its ripped straight out of the book. Its predictable Kay. Just like yourself." He was in full sneer now. "Just because something is written in your book, doesn't mean it isn't common knowledge. please."
I was outraged at his ruthless efficiency. "Oh off! You outfoxed me okay! Don't get used to this!"
"What? Can't deal with defeat? Talk about a sore loser! Am I right Totty?" Hamish jeered, nudging Tauto far too hard in the ribs. As Tauto rubbed his ribs angrily Hamish proceeded to dismiss us, ushering us to the door. "Well then, its been wonderful chatting Kay but you'd best be leaving. Don't worry about the boy scouts, they'll be arriving in... three. Two One!"
Just a Hamish said it, the door burst open, with a badly beaten Tejmin being thrown in by four of Jiibrael's samurai. "Mr Hamish, we found them breaking in. The only thing you were wrong about was how feisty they would be." The guard speaking frowned. "We had to put one down."
I bowed my head, taking a long deep breath. It was all I could do to stop myself throttling Hamish. "This isn't over Hamish. You will pay in blood." It sounded redundant even to me.
Hamish broke down laughing. Every single chuckle echoed in my ears a thousand times, each mocking me individually. A few minutes later he straightened up and asked me this. "Now Kay, answer me this honestly. How many times have you said that?" He paused, shrugging. "I don't know either. Now, how many times have you come through on that?"
I could only sit and glower at him. "My thoughts exactly." Hamish concluded. "Goodbye Kay." And with that he slammed the door on myself and my entourage. I turned and marched down the dimly lit hallway, wordless with rage. All I could think of was one thing as I stomped down the stairs, revenge.
"British." Said I once we were back in the courtyard.
"Yes Kay?" British inquired nervously.
I stopped, turned and said this; without remorse, and enough ice to impress the ******* I hated so much. "No more negotiations. No more legal jargon. No more second chances. intelligence. If Hamish so much as looks in our direction again... I want you to go out, and not come back until you bring me a goddamn body bag." And with that I stormed off into the night.
Here's a quick prologue to the next segment, giving us a little bit of detail about what the hell the Family has been doing whilst the excitement has been going on. And to remind you they're in the story.
Part 10: Birds of a feather
Bird Brain was captain of the guard of the prison of Mojang, the menagerie of psychopaths. The most prestigious position in his profession. It was a pity his profession was so undervalued and underappreciate. He was sustained by his job but far from satisfied. His men admired him for his leniency, yet the Divines criticised him for his ruthlessness. If he were to loosen any further his opponents and the people would criticise him. It was a dead-end job and he drew no enjoyment from it. However, he acknowledged that the job had to be done and he was the best qualified to do it, apart from perhaps young Thomas Bone. He was grooming him as heir to his denounced throne. The only qualified man among his group of bums and glory-hounds. He had however called in sick the last two days, and Bird was beginning to worry about the lad. It might sound unreasonable, but Bird had seen Bone come in with flu and usually had to be forced to stay off. The last time Bone had been off unexplained... well let's just say nothing good came of it, and both of them were still feeling reverberations.
On that day, at the crack of dawn, he was walking through the minimum security ward. On either side was an armed guard in glistening white. Lining the walls were iron bars behind walls of glass. Piled against the bars were the bodies of jeering convicts who rattled the iron mockingly. They knew what he thought of them, and they exploited the fact that they were a burden to him as much as they could. Bird then grew tired of the accursed applause, and raised his fist to the sky, summoning the faceless ones. All fell silent as these mouth-less demons glided up and down the corridor, whispering terror into their souls. Bird didn't know or understand these creatures and what they were, and he frankly thought it was better that way. They scared the prisoners, and made himself and his guards uneasy. They were an asset and little more. They weren't pigmen, if anything they were just creepy Testificates. Nothing more.
When they had quieted the hall they lined up before him, bowed over dutifully. He stopped a moment, regarding them with caution that a cat near water would have envied. Bird then bowed half-heartedly and they were dismissed, whispering thanks in their spine-tingling "voices" - if one can even call a disembodied message a voice. He sniffed dignifiedly, and continued to walk down the subdued corridor, lording his victory over his rowdy kingdom - before the fools forgot an hour later and the process must be repeated once more. There were at least eight men to every cell, behind thick walls of concrete and a door of steel. Through the glass screens he could see men in sackcloth clothing huddled together by their bunks, praying for mercy. All who saw him regarded him with quiet contempt. Business as usual.
Note well, he couldn't open any of the doors himself, otherwise he would have let out half of minimum security. He had to rely on Pure, The Watcher to let him go anywhere of significance within the prison, even the killing floors. Another burden of his trade. The Watcher was the head of Divine Security at the Citadel of Mojang. He controlled all of the cells from an airship circling the citadel constantly in its vulture-like way. Pure was uncooperative, overly-aggressive and detested Bird, Thaums and wasn't overly fond of Jeb. He barely accepted to admit Bird to the prison, refused to admit any people of Thaumic descent (putting the Gaians and their king on a black-list after the incident at the Gathering Council), and threw a tantrum whenever he heard Jeb was coming. However, as he was Dinner Bone's favourite nephew, his job was secured and he could do just about anything he wanted.
Bird sniffed contemptuously again at the thought. He had to focus on why he was down here. He was visiting a specific prisoner. This prisoner had been moved straight to minimum security once the corrupt "Inspector Hamish" had been suspended and all decisions he made had to be re-evaluated, as had all his other victims. He questioned it at first, fearing an influx of insane inmates and political prisoners who would either attract every shiv in prison to their face, or choke the life out of one of his guards. However, those who needed to be sent back to Maximum made themselves apparent soon enough for them to be removed with minimal casualties. Sure four prisoners had died, but he'd not lost a single guard. That was all that mattered.
The specific prisoner was known only as "The Falcon". He assumed this was an alias, because her "Family" would use it more as a rank than as a name. They were a bizarre bunch. All had blatant violent tendencies, and they had to remove the one called "8" was covered from head to foot in runes. They'd of course removed the worst and locked on "the clamps" to inhibit the rest. This went down almost without a problem, although he had a panic attack when he saw the corrosive materials they used for removing runes.
Muffin, or "12" as they often called him, was the only one they'd had to move to Maximum security, and the only prisoner moved to Maximum pending the death sentence. This man was the only "openly" sadistic one in the lot. All four prisoners that had died had all been killed by him. He just sat in his cell, twiddling his thumbs and playing what appeared to be a sprawling game of tic-tac-toe; it was as if he didn't know he was condemned to die. When questioned, he either sneered, or absent-mindedly referred to it as "God's plan". From what they could tell he was religious, but not of any denomination Bird was aware of. He wore the robes of a Thaumaturge, yet was plainly no Thaum. He seemed to have a soft spot for ocelots, using his final request to have one brought to him. It seemed to be fine at first. But at some time in the night he broke the creature's neck and was found in the corner in the morning; clasping the corpse and sobbing his eyes out. While Muffin claimed someone else had come in that night, Bird could only assume he'd had some sort of a fit due to the complete lack of coherency in the inmate's account. However, he seemed to have recovered well enough, as he just sat there pouring over his god's plan avidly.
"Huskers" Redmond was a recluse, refusing to leave his cell for exercise. He rarely left his bed, and he refused to dine or bathe in front of a guard. He never spoke, and had the other prisoners deliver any statements from him like slaves. Bird had tried to talk to him on day one, but Redmond either refused to acknowledge his time in the army as a result of dented pride, or amnesia of some sort.
Then there was Unknown, who refused to be apart from "M'lady" at any time. As a result of the tantrums and struggling, Bird had agreed to let them stay in a cell together. He honestly didn't care what his story was, despite the fact that he was the only one who seemed capable of banging on about it. He kept on raving about that Gaian king - the one who was trying to induct his apprentice into his ranks - and how he was on the fast track to revenge. He seemed to be strikingly good at impressions, using satires of public figures to get friendly with his roommates. He was pretty sure he'd heard from one of the guards that Unknown could do an impression of himself that was embarrassingly accurate. He was aggressive and often got into fights with others over nothing but M'lady's honour.
The Falcon however, was the best behaved. It was strange. She was obviously the leader. Even Muffin seemed terrified of her. Unknown was her adoring puppy. Yet she just sat there and did exactly as she was told. An unsettling quiet accompanied her every gesture. A hidden hatred was attached to every subservient act Her voice was rarely heard, but the few times it was, it was a rasping, hissing noise. Her appearance was like that of a corpse, empty looking wounds all over her body, like cracks in a clay shell. The smooth pale skin tightly clinging to her was a phantom-like pale grey. Her flaxen brown hair was like dead rushes. She'd grudgingly allowed her armour and hood to be confiscated. However, in compensation she hid her face in all ways possible, either by using a sack-cloth hood, or by simply shielding her face with her hands or skulking in the shadows.
Creepier yet, were complaints from the neighbouring cells that they heard voices from the cell she shared with Unknown and six others over the past two nights. Some sort of conversation wherein some young sounding girl was struggling against the usual Falcon in some sort of heated debate. It always ended the same way, the rasping voice would win and the young girl would weep. So this would be quite telling about this corpse's story, if it made a lick of sense. The arguments were cryptic beyond reason and the conclusions drawn were all done without explaining context whatsoever. For some reason, she had requested to speak with Bird quite urgently, saying it was a matter of the utmost importance to himself and the city at large.
And so, bearing all this in mind, Bird stood before her cell door. This cell was more subdued than the others. All within were possessed of a resolute and focused quiet. They sat rigidly on their wooden bunk-beds, features engraved into granite. The Falcon was seated on the right hand side of the cell, face concealed in shadow completely. Her frail arms were clasped together between her legs intimidatingly. Bird could see her heavy breaths of mist billowing out before her. Unknown was the only one out of this religious position. He seemed to be lying on his bed, putting him just out of Bird's field of vision. All he could see of the corpse-like man were the tips of his scabbed, paper-coloured knuckles clasped together in a similar position.
"Open the doors Pure." Bird instructed.
"No." Said the Watcher's whining voice.
"And why is that?"
"You didn't say the magic word."
"Open the doors now, Pure."
"The other one." Bird could hear his colleagues giggling amusement and imagine that sickening grin. He could so easily imagine that triangle-shaped stretch, which he had seen but a few times yet was so characteristic of Pure.
Wanting to avoid a fight, Bird complied. "Open the doors please, Pure."
"Who?"
"Sorry." His tolerance was. "Open the doors please, sir."
"That's more like it. You should always show respect to your superiors Birdy." He then slurped something. "Ah! Refreshing. Got to love that coffee. We've got tonnes up here now. Bet you want to know how I got it?"
"Just open the goddamn doors." As suspicious as Bird was about how Pure managed to gather such a rare and cherished item in as large a quantity as he made it out to be, the Falcon came first.
With a sniff Bird watched the door glide open. Upon entry the six burly men within rose to confront Bird and his two guards. It would have been a simple fight had Bird wanted to have it. The men were unarmed, and he was a pretty decent fighter even without his kit. This was without mentioning that the Speakers would have been all over them within the minute.
Bird took the moment they were locked in wordless visual combat to observe these prisoners. Two were of Thaumic descent. One was a divine plainly. The other three however, were different. They were in ownership of smooth shaven heads. They were all muscular, seemingly military men. They were built like the Thaums but had a patchy brown skin colour. It was like a child had taken watery paint and began to try and cover a papier mache person. Cocoa beans perhaps? That or the worst tan ever. Bird scanned the room and saw one of the cherished beans lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. His eyes then took the journey up, and saw the tiniest fold of a coffee sack hanging out.
"Hello Falcon. Shall I have these men removed? Or will you do the honours." Said Bird, not looking at the Falcon. He was disinterested, attempting to figure out the mystery of the painted men.
"I will if you don't mind too much." Hissed the frail little predator, nodding to her bodyguards to leave. Without question they filed out like little soldiers. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd ask you do the same."
And so the warden dismissed his men, the door sliding shut behind him. Then he noticed that Unknown had not moved from his perch. His legs were swung calmly over the edge, swaying mildly. The protectiveness with which he regarded the Falcon was reminiscent of a particularly painful romantic relationship Bird had in his youth... Importantly, he had hidden the bag of cocoa beans beneath his mattress.
"He leaves too." Bird instructed.
"Unknown stays. Accept that or leave. You are also to have us sealed in." Falcon countered.
Bird laughed, recomposed himself and sniffed. "Fine, I'll play your little game." He pressed a finger against his earpiece. "Seal the windows please pure. Falcon wants that atmosphere."
Even the ever-sulky Pure found this amusing, darkening all windows and soundproofing the room.
"Now. Let us begin." Bird prompted, sitting on the bed. As his weight pressed down on the rock-hard mattress, the rotting boards beneath creaked and cracked sickeningly. "What do you want to see me about."
"That's a very good question isn't it?" She said sarcastically. "I come to deliver a warning." There was a ten second pause.
"About what?" Another pause. This time three times as long.
"You're all going to die." She chuckled. Had Bird been able to see her face he was certain she would have been smirking.
"I've had enough. I'm leaving" He stood up and walked to the door, about to press his finger to his ear and demand Pure let him out. Then the pale-skinned woman said something that made him stop in his tracks.
"I have a feeling... that Mr Bone will soon have had enough too if you do leave." She leant forward, head masked by a brown veil of tangled, briar-like hair. "We wouldn't want that would we?"
Bird cursed himself, curiosity and concern for his protégé compelling him to entertain this as more than a desperate time-waster. "Where is he?"
"It's quite a tale I'll admit." The falcon stood, revealing a youthful face covered in scars. "But first... let me tell you the story of a little girl. A girl who fell... and never. Stopped. Falling." Then darkness covered Bird's eyes, and he knew nothing more.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Who are your favourite characters? Who do you want to see more of?
What's the best part so far? Do you prefer the lighter tone of Chapters 1 and 2? Or the darker, heavier feel of chapter 3?
What suggestions do you have for the direction of the plot?
What flaws does the story have? Does it make no sense? Is the dialogue too wooden? Is there that one character you really hate who gets WAY too much screen-time.
Most importantly, where do you think the plot is going? What is Falcon planning? Who is she? What is Dom doing? Why is Hamish so crazy? What does the Silhouette have to do with anything? Why is Atreidon acting so weird? Who is Complex 3?
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
This is going to be a four or five part finale by the looks of it, so hang onto your hats!
Chapter 3: A Double-Edged Blade
Part 11: The Game Begins
In the city of Mojang lies a district known as Arcvale. Not unlike many districts in Mojang it was prosperous, yet, not in the same ways to the more uptight, upper class ghettos as it were. While it was not the sort of district one could take your family through with ease at night, it was also not the sort of district which you would avoid like the plague. The houses were unstable, and shoddily built, yet they were homely and warm. The people, whilst lacking some the "courtesy" of the more openly wealthy districts they were a great deal less prejudiced. This was without mentioning that were a great deal more informed, intelligent, articulate and generally more pleasant.
The people of the ghettos dressed like weird Georgian hipsters, with weird wigs, ridiculously high shoes which could not be worn on any surface not 100% flat. Their idea of displaying their intelligence was drinking vodka whilst reading one of Dinner Bone's "informative newssheets", or one of Grumm's "books" on the inferiority of the Thaumic race. Their idea of a politics could be summarised as this "Divine perfect, Court of Whispers bad, everyone else inferior to Jeb and as a result are on the same side of the Court of Whispers due to their endless envy of how good the Divines have it and that they'll never be as good at go-karting as Jeb". They were prejudiced, isolationist and useless minor aristocratic swine who rode off the coat-tails of their genuinely productive and far more important relatives in order to pretend that if they were to suddenly disappear that people might give a damn.
The people of Arcvale were generally more humble. They were by no means perfect; they were often loud, obnoxious and some of the sneakiest bastards you ever laid eyes on. However, they treated you the same no matter what the background, creed or even class. Better yet, the wine was good, commerce was strong and the entertainment industry thrived. Gambling centre of the True Court; yet arguably the cultural heart as well. You see, due to the gambling, bars and theatres all being situated quite close to both the Mojang Imperial Academy (where the artistic and intellectual elite were the only ones admitted) and within spitting distance of the Great Museum you got a lot of the great writers, scientists and politicians of the future and present day stumbling into the bars and casinos.
The crowning jewel of the area was the so-called spectacle squares. These were two octagonal squares adjoined by a 3 km bridge over the river Atlee. From above, they looked just like a massive pair of spectacles. Some would argue that the best thing about this place was the esteemed Hellman's Barracks Casino, with its coloured torches and massive gambling tables that could seat 50 people in one game. Others would say it was the Grand Theatre, and the great plays and operas that went on within. Some would even argue that is was the Divine Courthouse, the foremost seat of common law in the land. The only authority that could even think of overruling it was the Gathering Council itself. Others might go as far as claiming it was the view off the bridge down the river, and the many merchant stalls along the bridge. I would say it is none of these. Mine lies a bit, deeper.Now to elaborate upon that pun so that it makes sense.
Beneath the bridge lies a sprawling sub-city known as the Underworld. Down there were the nicest, most welcoming, most friendly swine to ever steal my wallet and then con me out of my best suit. Some might call it a shanty town, I would correct them and call it an ever-changing masterpiece of what man can accomplish. The glory of Underworld is indescribable. From the lanterns, to the driftwood boxes of buildings it was perfect. The little wooden pathways ran like a maze across the dark, shimmering waters of the river. This was the true glory of the True Court in my eyes; nothing could change that.
It was unexplainable how long it had been there, we aren't even sure the people down there know. It had been deliberately destroyed twice, flooded nine times and burned down a further six times. Yet the people kept coming back, and the city was experiencing its greatest period of growth since the industrial boom of 1800. It had started from what I gathered as a small community of people, who couldn't afford proper housing and as a result decided to build their own out of sight. Since then it had grown magnificently. Anyone who had enough materials to build a house and could find enough space could build it there. No one questioned you, no one told you that you couldn't do nowhere. It was held together by a Council of Merchants, with the most powerful businessman in each profession coming forward to run the council, these main professions being; private security; pharmaceutics; gambling and alcohol; cloth-making; and of course the spice trade.
There wasn't a person in the True Court who didn't depend upon the Underworld. Since the war in the East started, key trade routes had been cut off, and a vacuum had been left in the market. The people of Underworld had been quick to fill it. boats floating down the river stopped off, traded with the well-paying businesses of Underworld and went on their merry way. The people of Underworld then sold on to the upper class of the city. In fact, Jeb himself was one of the staunchest supporters of the city. Most of the large establishments up above appreciated the Underworld as a useful filter to turn away "unsavoury clients". As a result of their powerful backing, the authorities left the city be and turned a blind eye to where some of the goods came from. Few could remember the last time the Inquisition had actually been there without a major scandal turning up and all the men involved being dishonourably discharged.
Being the legal no-fly zone it was, you'd expect Underworld to turn into some sort of permanent turf war or centre of moral degeneracy. You'd be surprised by the fact that the Council of Merchants ran the place based on a et of strict principles; and were in fact quite fair in their judgement. The main rule was, if you wrong a citizen of the Underworld, private security's enforcers would hunt you down and toss you and your house in the river. However, they also had strict standards regarding the practices they allowed. Organised crime was a thing down there, mainly in the form of bootlegged books, alcohol, cigars, spice and light drugs. You also didn't find many slavers down in Underworld, and they were driven out very quickly. Prostitution, while technically legal was never a big thing and was quickly being driven out due to high regulations and violence against those who partook in it. Up top it was a whole different story. Humans, pigmen and testificates alike were sold as slaves without the slightest bit of remorse or consequence. Prostitution was running rampant, with the Inquisition being a source of some of its biggest patrons. Hard drugs were big money, and gambling was even less honest. The persecution against minority groups was also far worse on the bridge; Thaumic people being especially mistreated.
To demonstrate this I need only pull out one example; The Old Cow. While of very distant Thaumic descent, the Cow had experienced living hell while attempting to achieve a visa in the aftermath of the Onslaught, despite having served in the Divine army and spent a year in one of Herobrine's prison camps. He was the council representative for gambling and alcohol. In the last 11 years since he was dishonourably discharged (for cowardice of all charges) he had earned his place on the council, having driven out the mobsters who had been in charge of the business before with little more than grit, determination and being particularly handing with a bull-whip. He was easily the most wealthy publican in the city, even though his establishments didn't reflect this in the superficial manner you might expect. He had a chain of popular bars and casinos thirteen strong, with two of these being situated outside Underworld. The best example of a businessman of ruthless efficiency I ever met, he was a man to be revered by his allies, and feared by his enemies. For, while he was a man of principle like his fellow council members, he was also willing to resort to violence in order to achieve his aims.
I sat in a booth across from him with ABB in his finest establishment -the original Old Cow's Pub and Casino- on the day that I was to meet Astro. Yet, before I explain this conversation, I might as well add that we were not having the only conversation of consequence in this vibrant centre of revelry. At the counter, barely visible to me through the conversing drunks, the cigar smoke and a conveniently placed poker table were four familiar figures in their usual spots. In order they were; Linx; Key; Bokane and Mini. There the four sat, all in the uniforms of their various trades; except for Mini. He was wearing; his grimy trench coat; his frayed breeches; a stained "white" shirt which was missing a couple of buttons; and of course his mud-coloured suspenders, which he wore with a certain sentimentality - despite the fact that they were obviously a size too small and were in great disrepair. He also was checking his pocket watch incessantly, barely going a full minute without checking it at least twice. There sat the four musketeers, that wee band of brothers who so frequently came to this pub to drink, to laugh, to ponder some of life's most puzzling riddles, such as; "Did that man just take my wallet?" "Who the hell is this ****-end?" And of course in the morning there was the greatest riddle of all. "Oh God! Where did we leave Mini?" Usually Small was with them, however he was over at the warehouse, keeping an eye on things.
Linx was the first to speak, struggling to be heard over the noise around them. "What's with the get-up Mini?" He inquired. "Are we dressed for the banquet tonight? Getting all dressed up?"
"I wish! Kay's got me running a big assignment today. I believe I needn't elaborate any further." Linx nodded and backed down, knowing how I had been about secrecy since the encounter with Hamish the night before. "I'm not even sure Kay will even send Cossack to attend, with the state he's in at the moment. I knew he shouldn't of gone and visited that two-faced *******!" Mini sighed with the traditional hiss, and then glanced over at Bokane, who was making "hrmm" noises and pouring over a sheet of paper covered in equations. "Okay Bokane! We have broken at last. Tell us what you are bothered by lest we are truly destroyed by your silence's ruthless onlslaught!" Mini dried in mock submission.
Bokane sighed and straightened up. "Well my simple friend, if you must know I'm going over the equation Kay set me. Well, he didn't ask me to find the equation, just to figure out the odds of a balloon exploding under certain circumstances. Guess what? I've been running every scenario with Aaron for the past two days and I still haven't gotten anywhere. By all logic, Kay should be dead. That's right we are being given orders by a dead man walking!" His tone had gone far more high-pitched and frantic.
"Calm Bokane." Key jested. "I'm sure you simply forgot to carry a decimal point, or some math like that."
"You don't understand! He should be dead or at least in a coma! Unless someone replaced the balloon or... or... or unless Kay lied to us." Bokane turned to us as if a certain realisation had struck him in the face with a frying pan and then proceeded to pull the teeth from his mouth while he slept, and made then into an omelette for his enjoyment the next morning. "Say guys-"
"Nope!" Linx shouted, sticking his figners in his ears. "I'm not listening! La-la-la-la-la!"
Key and Mini chuckled first at Bokane's expression and statement, and then at Linx's antics.
"Oh come on! Take this seriously guys!" Bokane pleaded irritably.
"Sorry Bokane but you're worse about coming up with overcomplicated theories than Kay himself!" Key joked. "Remember your theory about who stole Mini's slippers?" He nudged Bokane in the arm, causing the group of them to snicker reminiscently.
"Ha, ha! Very funny!" Bokane retorted as drolly as possible. "You're one to talk aren't you Key, not even about that stuff in the citadel. Need I remind you of that time we were having that game of poker up top and-"
Key punched him in the arm hard. "Shut up! You swore you'd never tell! You swore!" The burley soldier said in an exasperated and high-pitched voice. It was truly comical to the other three, and Key submitted and joined in their laughter soon after.
Bokane looked back towards the door lightly and returned quickly with a fallen face. "Here comes the storm." He muttered sadly, taking a swig in the hope of drowning out his sorrows.
Linx and the others turned round in their stools as well and swivelled back round with equally sullen faces. Towards them clunked Atreidon, and with him all his unspoken woes. He had been drinking with them for the last few days, and they felt good about helping him through tough times. However, that didn't stop the fact that he killed all chance of light-hearted conversation with his mere presence. The worst part was, he still hadn't told them what he was depressed about. Despite their finest efforts of manipulation, and getting the ******* drunk, the best they could get was a slurred "Its complicated! And what was that about my monkey butler? What happens between me and 'im is of no concern to any of yous!" This was before he got into a bar fight and passed out so the whole monkey butler business was sadly an unlikely possibility, much to Key's disappointment.
"Gentlemen." Atreidon mumbled, tipping his triangular beaver hat. He was dressed in a formal black suit, with a bow tie and red rose in the lapel. He looked like he was dressed to a funeral. Sitting down in the chair nearest Bokane, he slammed a gold coin down onto the table and ordered their strongest vodka. He attempted to speak, but all that came out was, "Weathers... err... decent. It is isn't it gents?" To which the group all enthusiastically agreed, smiling to the point where their cheeks were about to split in two. This included Mini's uncomfortable grimace. Five minutes of such uncomfortable conversing, nodding, pausing and staring later Mini stood bolt upright and knocked over his stool, with his watch in hand.
"Dear Jeb the forgiving I'd best be going! I'll be late for my assignment." He blurted it out far quicker than he should have, making it sound much more like an excuse than he wanted it to. He was in fact running late, and he needed to leave. It didn't help that Atreidon was making things uncomfortable. Atreidon's face remained unchanged, but his eyes fell even darker and he suddenly took special interest in the counter.
"Listen I'm sorry mate." Mini leant over and put his hand on Atreidon's shoulder. "I really need to leave."
"It's okay." Burst out Atreidon, seemingly apologetic. "I understand that perfectly. Just before you go could you please explain what you've been sent to do briefly. Void's been wondering and asked me to check up on Kay." It sounded perfectly reasonable to Mini. Void had been using the leaders of the Vanilla Craft as messengers more and more; for he and his moderators were finding it harder and harder to avoid detection outside the citadel. It didn't help that Atreidon was basically doing puppy dog eyes at him. The skin around his eyes was crinkled sadly. His eyes were the most miserable shade of orphan blue, still youthful despite his aging form. However, he really knew he shouldn't do it, fearing Kay's wrath. Since the Hamish incident last night -heck, since Hamish resurfaced- Kay's temper had shortened significantly and the people lower down the chain were feeling a lot of the consequences; himself especially. However, considering this the other way this meant he was not as warmly disposed to Kay as usually. So it was a choice; one eye or puppy dog eyes. Being a man of principle, the answer was obvious.
"I'm going with Brit to meet with a man called Austin. Friend of the Cow's. Kay says he is linked to the Silhouette." Mini felt he'd said enough not to get into trouble. However, Linx was watching him uneasily, one eyebrow cocked. Bokane and Key pretended not to have heard anything be said. It wasn't like he'd said anything of consequence. Kay had already told Void -and by connection The Brotherhood, Arcation, Legion, Vangaard, ELITE, the Woobs and any other people Void viewed as significant. In all likelihood Atreidon knew about the Silhouette already. His face told Mini nothing. "Please don't tell Kay I said anything." Pleaded Mini.
Atreidon rose from his stool and planted a warm, reassuring hand on Mini's shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll be okay. Now off you go." He turned Mini and patted him on the back. Atreidon's face was crinkled in a great smile, that was trying too hard to reassure him. His body language was looser than one of Kay's knots. There was a strange overfriendliness in Atreidon's voice and face he didn't like, but he left nonetheless. Before he could think twice he was facing the bright lights of the city at noon, and he was at ease.
"Well, Key and I'd best be leaving. Kay needs us for the whole Astro visit. See you later Atrei" Said Linx, excusing himself and Key from the uncomfortable encounter. He grabbed Key crudely by the shoulder and dragged the militia leader out of his stool before he even knew what was happening. The crude, plywood saloon doors flew open and then creaked closed soon after. That left just Bokane, completely at a loss.
Bokane opened his mouth to speak but Atreidon cut across him. "Don't worry," He said, looking very pleased with himself. He downed his drink and finished his sentence. "I have to go as well. Another vodka for my friend! My usual." He slammed down a gold coin in front of a confused looking Bokane. With that the archangel followed the other four out of the door, a certain spring in his step as he moved. He was humming an old melody that was familiar to Bokane, "The Fields of Acrisius". Atreidon reached the door just as he finished the tune, chuckling and shaking his head incredulously as he planted his hand on the door. He then looked back at Bokane one last time, his grin wider than ever before as daylight illuminated his face. Then he slipped out suspiciously like a snake. Bokane stared after him quizzically with his eyebrows furrowed so deeply they looked like they were hunkering down in a foxhole, avoiding bombardment from Bokane's restless mind. Then the vodka slammed down on the table, bringing peace to the mage's mind. The brain stopped its bombardment and the eyebrows lifted themselves wearily from their foxholes. He then toasted to the others good health, and downed the pint.
Then Bokane began to become strangely weary. The little tune Atreidon had been humming was stuck in his head, echoing throughout it a thousand times as the angel choirs within his mind sang it. He was contented. Then, he remembered the lyrics to it. "Good god." He muttered. He attempted to rise from his slumber, but could do little more than flop to the floor amidst the dogs and the rats; utterly incapacitated. As he tried to drag himself across the floor he felt his eyes drooping. And then, blackness.
I was sitting with quite a view of him. "Ouch!" Chuckled the Old Cow, "That has got to hurt! You sure he'll be alright?"
"Don't worry my friend, he's gotten into far more dangerous situations whilst on your stuff." I retorted, cheerfully lifting my glass to my lips, downing the wine in a single gulp. I needed all the confidence I could get for the coming meeting. "So, are you sure you won't reconsider my offer Cow?"
"I'm sorry Kay, I've got a nice set up here. You're going to have to do without a bartender of my calibre. However, I'm sure we can work out a deal in which a skilled protégé of mine comes and works with you?" He saw my lack of enthusiasm. "What Kay? Don't trust me?" Truth was, I trusted the sleazy lout about as far as Cossack could throw him (neither being very fit).
"I won't place my money on eggs before I judge the integrity of the hen." Jested I.
"Have you not judged my integrity by now?" The Cow inquired, half offended. Mercifully I discovered that both our glasses were empty.
"ABB would you not go and get us a couple more drinks? Also could you check that Bokane hasn't hit his head too hard?" Said I, tossing her a coin. The Cow, in his traditional cheap manner did nothing to stop us. "Greedy lout." I thought to myself.
ABB was dressed most unlike herself, in a formal garment that clashed horribly with the lower class background of the place. That was not to say it was not a nice garment, simply that it felt out of place. It was basically generic 18th century rich-woman's gown number 42 and it just didn't look right in Underworld. I supposed it would be more fitting up top.
"Sure thing." ABB nodded and strolled off.
"Thank you for the kegs of wine by the way. The lads love them." I said, attempting to get the topic off of trust once and for all. The Cow loved praise too much to ignore it.
"Thank you. You're a true noble with a... wonderful company of people. Earned your spot." Began The Cow, eyes trained on ABB as she waited wearily at the counter. "Say are you two... ?"
I paused, sighing. This question had to come up every time ABB and I went anywhere together. "No. Plain and simple. We're friends and that is it. Just because she's literally the only female character with dialogue besides the Falcon in my writing does not make her the obligatory love interest! I'm not the sort to hash that in!"
"What?" Cow asked, scratching his head. Before I could explain about my writing he stopped me. "Before this turns into a beat down on the fourth wall, that was not what I was implying. Whatever it was you... err... thought I was implying." He looked at me confusedly with one eyebrow cocked. He then shook his head and recomposed himself. "Anyhow. I was simply checking whether you'd be ed off if I had a go?" He gestured to ABB.
I sighed again. "I'm sorry old friend but that's one you won't win over with cheap "charm". In fact, I'd rather you didn't if you value your own safety." It was purposefully blunt and cold. I really wanted to annoy this *******, whilst telling him the truth. If he wasn't interested in helping us, I would abandon all attempt to humour him. In truth, what I said was truth, but my tone was there simply to provoke him.
"What?" Asked The Cow outragedly. "Are you threatening me?" I shook my head. "Does she have an over-zealous father?" I shook my head once more. "A brother that would remove my arms should I go too near her?" I was shaking my head so rigorously I may as well have been in a tornado. I then reconsidered and told him that her brother was the least of his worries. "Does she have something?" I scolded him for questioning her honour. "Then what?" I smirked knowingly. Cow grumbled something about "putting Kay in his place".
A few seconds, he was standing there beside an unfazed ABB. Her expression was as disinterested as it got. I don't know why The Cow was even trying at this point. Nonetheless he put on his traditional smarmy grin. I sat back, hands behind my head and feet on the table. ABB looked back at me sceptically. I smirked and toasted my friend with my glass. I then lifted it to my lips, only to realise rather disappointedly that it was empty. ABB chuckled and met the cow with her eyes. For the next couple of minutes she humoured him. Then, he made his traditional error, assuming that because a woman talked to him, meant she was now his. He reached down and... SNAP! Two minutes later ABB had him on the floor clasping a broken arm, bruises forming all over his face, and begging for mercy. The Cow's thugs had ran to his aid, lifting the slug from the salt. They were eying ABB like sharks targeting a little fish. However, this little fish was a piranha, ready to bite. Before the test of strength began I stepped between the two groups like a wall.
Never lifting my hand from Amicus, I grabbed ABB by the arm and we began to slowly back towards the door. "Come now Abby dear. Let's get along now." I uneasily told her. At this point some particularly drunken idiot took it upon himself to cry out with the ever predictable war cry of "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" to be met with equally idiotic applause, praise, and handshakes from anyone within 3 metres of him.
The Cow however, was not amused. His flabby chin and sweaty, contorted face turning red. He was quivering with rage all over as he stumped shakily forward. He had his limp left arm clasped by his white-knuckled right. Now I began to see just how badly ABB had hurt his arm. She had dislocated it at the shoulder; which was painful but easily fixed. More permanently, she had brought her fist down hard on his wrist. Where the hand met the arm there was a sickening bend. All I could say inside my mind was, "Good girl!" His greying hair was tussled, with sweaty blades hanging down over his face unevenly. His right eye was swollen beyond recognition. If it weren't for the slowly advancing bouncers on either side of him, he would have been indistinguishable from one of the worse off drunks in that very bar.
As we slid out the front door, I heard The Cow's furious words, "Get back here you! You are no noble! You're a Kay! Just a bad actor! And you're crew are having the performance of a lifetime!" He followed us o the door, shouting the final words after us into the street as he propped open the door with his shoulder. He would have sent people after us had we not already disappeared behind a merchant's stall. We looked at each other for a moment, with an uncomfortable silence. ABB was the first to speak. "Never call me Abby again." Her tone was so dry and the statement so trivial that the two of us couldn't help but break down laughing. Recovering a few seconds later ABB reaffirmed this by saying, "Seriously though if you do I'll make what happened to the cow look like he fell and grazed his knee."
I turned away uncomfortably to face the old fish merchant who had been staring open-mouthed at us uncomfortably for the last few minutes. I gestured to him to speak politely. "You buy fish?" He asked in a heavy accent.
"Sorry sir," I replied in a proper manner as I straightened my bent legs and shook the dirt and dust swarming over my clothes back into the air, so that it went tumbling back to the earth. "Just browsing. A penny for your time though." I smiled and tossed him the coin and he waved us off; the unusual affair resolved amicably.
"So," Began ABB once we were back up top, smiling casually. "What do we do now?"
I pulled up my hood rather pointlessly, but nonetheless it was pretty badass. "Get ready. We may have an hour but today we're letting nothing slide." ABB pulled out a grey silken veil that glistened in the midday sunlight. With a flourish it was on and my friend disappeared into the crowd around us.
I looked up, hand shielding my eyes from the midday sun. It was a glorious mix of gold and orange, cutting lines of light across the glorious bright blue sea of the sky. Up high flocks of birds were migrating for the Winter. A cool breeze crept across the ground, between the legs of the people. Up on the rooftops was the perfect mix of old and new. Radiant yellow thatch grappled for control of the rooftops with red and black slate like brawlers in a bar fight. From the chimneys billowed a continuous stream of smoke, reminding me of the coming Winter. The sun could shine all he liked, and pretend that his warmth was eternal, and everything was under his control. Pretend that he would light the way forever. Pretend he was immortal. The arrogant king, attempting to placate his people in times of need. The cocky ******* couldn't even control the kingdom of the sky for a day! I stopped to ponder a moment. "Soon the fool will be unable to do anything to help us. He will be able to watch, to scream as he watches the Winter ravage the lands. Needs to accept that everyone's reign comes to an end. To everything there is a season... A time to break down and a time to build up. For every man that falls there is another to take his place. Was there even a point in trying?"
At this point I was no longer observing the sun. I was simply wondering about my own future. Was my reign coming to an end? Was there even a man ready to take my place? Was everything I had done a pointless distraction in the course of life? Truth was, these thoughts were neither few nor far between. Ever since I became king, I had feared my time was nearing its end. My friends were dropping off and disappearing day by day it seemed since the Nether Hub. I had been lucky enough to lose few people of direct consequence to myself during the Overlord's reign. But when we torched the city, I couldn't help but wonder what the point of it all was if it were to just be tossed away without regard in the end. What was the problem with Overlord taking the city? Perhaps there were grains of truth in what Overlord had said. I had scolded myself at the time but in he end there was no point in it. The seeds of doubt had been sown and they would always be there, I could just hope to starve them, keep them as seeds. I told myself my reign would not be forgotten, I was no bad actor. I would live many a year and rule successfully. I would be a good and kind king. My reign would never end... because it was mine.
I sighed sadly. How long could I keep kidding myself. I would die one day and by that point everyone would probably be glad I was gone. If age or illness didn't get me in the end it would be one of my enemies, or those at present I called friends. Hamish's return had heralded that thought. I would someday have to face the fact that we were not so different. He was all that I hated about myself. In that way he was me. We even started out the same. Hamish, or rather the creature that bore his face was once principled. He once believed that the Court of Whispers would reclaim the land and the Endlings would rule once more. He hadn't been as bad then. But then, some time during the Onslaught, something within him broke. It never healed. In the end his own people had to put him down. Since then he'd become even worse, a true madman with no limits. He was a threat to my friends, my family. I would do anything to stop him. But in the end, that was what would get me... My protectiveness. My loyalty.
I wiped my head clean of all thoughts of this nature. Now was not the time. Astro and I would reunite once more. And all would be right once more. It would. I reached the waterfront, placing my hands on the cold stone wall and looking out at the shimmering blue river, with the city reflected in its waving surface. There was a wall of clouds on the horizon. A storm was coming, I was sure of it. I sighed and murmured into my sleeve. "Everyone ready?" I put as much energy into my voice as I could, forcing myself to smile.
"The rooftops are mine Kay." Came Secret's cocky voice. "Dom's men were of no consequence. They'll be idiots if they seek to try anything else." That was one of many problems with the spectacle squares. Dom had too many allies here. Astro was either unaware (which was unlikely), leading us into a trap (more unlikely still) or attempting to cock an irreverent snook at Dominus. This was the most like Astro. He liked to pretend he was diplomatic. But when it came down to it he loved to get one over on his enemies and went to extreme lengths to do it.
I looked up and saw Secret gliding across the roof-tops like an urban phantom. He was like a shadow puppet against the canvas of the sky, completely indistinguishable if it weren't for his bow. Then he stopped on top of one of the casinos, and waited.
"We're watching from the apartment. The elite soldiers are ready to go the second you require it." Linx chimed in. We only had a team of 5 in the apartment. However we had Key's men swarming all over the square. As for the apartment. It was of little consequence in the long run.
"My boys are... around." Key jested into the system.
"I'm begging my heart out on the street. Listen I'm not sure about this. There's something wrong..." Began Aaron nervously. However, he stopped in an outraged silence, in which I heard a number of indignant grunts. We were then graced with the noise of him forcing himself to his feet. "Hang on a sec... Are you serious? Only a penny? I'm a dwarven war veteran with no legs wearing a funny hat! That's worth at least 10 of your pathetic Divine pennies! What?" He cursed. "Well would you look at that! My legs magically grew back! I can walk! Thank you good sir! Your blatant disrespect for my years of service has healed me! What? No don't get the police! Oh come on!"
"Motion to kick Aaron from the call." Secret chuckled.
"Seconded" Came the resounding response.
"Wai-" Cried Aaron before he was cut off. I looked out across to the bridge to see Aaron conversing with several police officers; desperately trying to wheedle a way out. Eventually he settled for using the "hey look over there!" tactic and flipping me off to escape. I could barely stop myself from laughing.
"Good call Secret." I gasped into my sleeve, sides legitimately on the verge of exploding.
In my ear his familiar voice crackled, "I know right?"
"Well lads, down to business. Dawdle aimlessly for the next hour and if you see any Realm ****-ends send them packing." Dictated I, getting the team back down to work. Then with that, I vanished into the crowd. Or so I thought. One always thinks they are invisible until spotted. The hunter must never take his place for granted.
Brit's P.O.V. (sort of)
Roughly 45 minutes after I gave that order three figures gathered in a dank, dirty alleyway. It was in one of the older districts. You could tell only from the back of the buildings, for they had disguised their age well with a modern façade. From the back you could see the plaster crack and loose its grip. You could see the way the world ate at the bricks, gradually wearing away into nothingness. You could see the old cobbled stones, and their uneven, slimy surfaces scattered randomly and carelessly, their former shape and uniform pattern lost on this world. Now the stones were little more than the unpredictable waves in that unchanging sea of stones.
Most telling however, was the door at the end of the dead end. You could tell it had once been proud. Take the decrepit, dented, darkened knocker on the door. Beneath the layers upon layers of grime and grit, past the dents and the cracks, was still the occasional glint of polished brass. The hinges had suffered the same fate of decay. They were made of iron, and were battling an infection of that cruel killer of metal, rust. They were on their last legs. They were loose on the doorframe, with the door opening wearily every now at then as wind rushed through the building from the other side. Every time it did so, the hinges squeaked out in pain as the unseen bully tormented them. Their knobbly red surface truly gave the impression of a true ailment, deprived of the oil it needed to be treated with. What told the most about this door, was the decayed sign above. This had once been the entrance to a grand nightclub. But now all memory of that was forgotten. Austin had moved all business up front, pretending not to spend money on what wouldn't be seen by the immediate customers. All that remained was the sign, full of holes bitten in by parasites, and slogans carved in by vandals. Yet still the letters spelt out "Ha... Son" in a depressed manner.
Along the sides of the alleyway and throughout the middle were various piles of waste. These gave of foul smells that clogged the air to the point that even to breath would leave the taste of old socks in you mouth for the next week, no matter what you tried. Also along the sides were a number of boarded up windows, and sealed off doors. The few windows that remained unblocked were shattered or scribbled upon. The wind had grown bolder, simply running about the city without restriction.
As for the three figures. The first was a stout man, with a neatly combed helmet of black hair, and a plump caterpillar of a moustached lay across his lip. His cream suit clashed noticeably with the grey backdrop. He had a habit of reaching down to pat something that wasn't there with his left, and then shaking his head and using the wandering hand to straighten his time rather unnecessarily. Then the arm would fall limply to his side, twitching uncomfortably as the invisible item remained out of his grasp. His right was planted firmly in his pocket, gripping something tightly. His eyes kept on sweeping the alleyway, detecting every little detail.
The second figure was slimmer, taller, more like a skeleton. A thick mop of mud coloured hair dangled down and shrouded one of his eyes. Today he was wearing a light grey suit that blended in perfectly with the bland background. He seemed to shuffle as he moved, like he were uncomfortable in his skin. His pencil like form gave him an eerie feeling. He kept on wringing his hands incessantly and eying every last item in the alleyway with a sulky contempt that would have made any weird emo kid jealous.
The last was a hulking figure with scaly green skin. Despite his broad shoulders, and large muscles he was a timid wee thing. He stood with a submissive bowing of his head that spoke 1000 words about himself. He looked like hewere constantly on the chopping block and ready to face death. Yet, he was also dignified in his submissive nature. Everything was regarded by him in equal calmness and equally little consideration. His ancient suit was a scuffed mess that seemed to attract dust perpetually. Seriously, he had to brush it clean of dust every time he stopped for more than 30 seconds. His fedora was beginning to lose all shape and there were sporadic holes around it.
The man in the pale suit stepped forward, his left arm swaying limply and purposelessly. It was almost as if the arm could have just been missing and it would have been just as purposeful. He started to stroke the uneven item but stopped exasperatedly and cursed himself and his arm for its brain-dead nature. He then resolved to send the lout home early and planted it in his other pocket. He then spoke with Brit's voice, head bobbing ludicrously as he spoke in order to compensate for the loss of the arm. The words he uttered were as follows; "Well lads, here at last. Mini you stay here and scare off anyone who wants to come in. Gracey'll come with me."
Gracey began to wring his hands in a gratified manner. He even flipped back his dirty mane to reveal a perfectly clean face, grinning with ordered teeth. He was the perfect contradiction. The hulking figure however seemed far less pleased.
"Why do I have to stay behind? You could use me in there!" He whined. There was something else in his voice though. Something that made British uneasy, like he were trying to hide something. A dash of uncertainty. A spritz of sadness. A lashing of irritation. All these made for a recipe for mistrust towards Mini. Brit didn't trust him one bit if that previous line wasn't clarification enough. His ethnicity didn't help.
"This alleyway is too open to ambush. You'll scare off the casual attackers. As no one knows about this apart from us and Austin's crew of amateurs. Right?" The hulk's face told him little now that it was prepared. "Besides, we need a special type of malice for this situation."
Mini decided to give up hiding whatever it was and conceded, "I'm scared."
British stared at him blankly for a moment, before nodding indifferently and turning towards the door and its tattered sign. The hulking creature stared disbelievingly after him, as if unsure what to expect. He looked to the skeletal man for understanding, but all he received was a malicious chuckle as he sauntered after the stout man. Each laugh was a lash from that silver whip of a tongue upon his soul. Then, the corners of his blank black eyes crinkled sadly and he turned to watch the alley, one hand clasping his mace, and the other on the hilt of his gold-gilded sword.
The detective was quite disappointed actually. He was half hoping that the elusive Complex 3 was about to stick an apple in his mouth, lie down on a silver plate and stick a fork in his back just for him. However, he supposed this personal confession was supposed to mean something to him, and began to work on a way to use it against that "damn dirty half-breed".
Then he looked down at the doorknob and recoiled slightly in disgust. Brit. Hated. Dirt. Despised the stuff. The only reason he tolerated his companion's dirty appearance was because of personal attachment, and how useful it was. Then, as his partner leaned against the the grimy door-frame, he reached with his left hand for his snowy white handkerchief. It slipped from beneath his tin lighter like a phantom, barely budging the old thing as it moved. Slowly but carefully, Brit lowered it and wiped the layer of black, disgusting grime from the brass surface with a tsunami of cotton. Lifting it up the detective regarded the tainted item a few moments. After attempting fruitlessly the shake the worst of the filth off he decided it was a hopeless case, discarding it with a great deal of contempt. As the tainted phantom floated to the dirt the skeletal man grinned his sly grin. Ignoring him the detective pulled a scarlet handkerchief of the same make from his right pocket, and nestled it gently behind the little tin lighter.
"Behold, the creature of habit. Enslaved by its routine and bound by rituals." Came the voice of Gracey, doing his best David Attenborough impression. Amused by his own antics he cackled and jabbed the detective in the ribs playfully, leaving a small circular smudge. As the stout man ignored him and compulsively licked his fingers and rubbed out the stain the skeletal man began to laugh.
"Ah! This is why I hang around you British. Always knew how to make me laugh." Gracey grinned almost sadly for a second. Was he hiding something too? No, it was Gracey. Brit could trust him without doubt.
Brit twisted the icy knob, and pushed the creaking monstrosity inwards, revealed a dank, dusty hallway that led into endless dark. At the end of the dark there was just one sliver of golden light through a dented doorway; pushing its way through the darkness as if to desperately beckon to British to run to it as fast as he could. Just as he was about to walk into the shadows Gracey stopped him.
"What do you make of our friend back there?" Gracey inquired, a poisonous edge to his voice. British stopped and glanced back at Mini's titanic frame before walking straight into the building without a word. The skeletal figure cackled and mumbled, "I hate half-breeds too."
Mini took a single look back as the door slammed closed. Alone again. As per usual. He knew what they said behind his back. The half-breed. The outcast. Only along for the ride because Kay felt sorry for him. And Kay's patience was wearing thin. He had known for a long time that he would have to leave someday. But with the way things were going, he wasn't sure whether he had a say in the matter... He held up the sword he had taken from Unknown. Pondering his sad thoughts he began to slowly turn the blade, watching the way the light reflected off it. He saw those black eyes of his in it. "Are they all that soulless? Am I truly condemned to damnation by my mere existence?"
Then a surge of fear shot through him. Just for a second it had been there. A split second of visibility was all it took to make him freeze. He looked around him frantically, both weapons drawn. No one there. He could have sworn that he had seen the original owner of the blade in its reflection, just a few feet behind him. Trembling he returned to the watch, keeping both weapons drawn. A storm was coming, he could feel it.
Kay's Perspective
I ambled along the bridge contentedly, a plump red apple in my hand. There was at least one bite taken out of the shiny, smooth, round fruit, creating a great uneven crater in the flawless surface. In my mouth I crunched the crispy, juicy flesh of that motionless, unfeeling beast. About me I looked. The city was alive and kicking. For a moment all my worries were forgotten in the turbulent calm.
Merchants cried out to the passers by, attempting to push their surplus onto the dim-witted. Minstrels played, watching the pennies roll into the can they was collecting with. Drunks staggered up and down the street without knowledge of where they were or care for where they ended up. Every now and then one might see a platoon of soldiers pass in their gleaming chrome-coloured armour. Aaron had taken up a new spot, simply pretending to be asleep against a sympathetic grocers' stall, shawl wrapped around him pathetically. ABB still stalked the bridge, never more than spitting distance away from me. Key's men patrolled the bridge like phantoms, completely invisible to anyone but myself.
The shimmering blue surface of the river was dotted with blinding stars amidst the rippling reflected city.
I was a mere 20 feet from the spot we were to meet at. Just a few strides and then we would be reunited. All would be alright. Then it came into site. I saw a familiar navy cape aflutter in the breeze. Then a pair of brown felt boots came into site. Soon they were joined by a pair of black-clad slender legs. As my eyes travelled up I saw also a gleaming white breast-plate over a shirt just as black as the trousers. It clashed horribly. That was my Astro! Then my eyes travelled slightly further up. The long thin neck led up to a proud neck and a... moustache? I didn't remember Astro's skin being that tanned. Or him ever wearing a sombrero.
"Hello my friend!" Came a stereotypical Mexican accent. "I am Fernastro! Here to steal your women and jobs and destroy your decadent society!"
"Seriously Kay?" Said Astro from the other side of the bench, stopping me as I read him my notes. "You wrote in a racist joke just for the shock value?"
"Yeah, people did that stuff right?" I asked, genuinely confused. I was aiming to sell the notes in the city of Mojang predominantly. I just naturally assumed the only ones that read anything were racists.
"Not outside the ghettos." Astro snorted.
"Ah well." I sighed. "Its great to see you Astro." I couldn't help but smile slightly as I said that. Four months since I'd seen him last. His weathered face was beginning to show the faintest traces of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth; like streams that would eventually turn into mighty rivers. His face was bathed in the midday sun as he leaned back.
"Its great to see you too Kay." His calm voice was being breached consistently by pangs of emotion. For a few minutes we just sat there and watched the people walk by.
"So? How did you get out of Kreatious?" I pried, desperate to find out what happened. I had a bet running with Aaron that this story involved at least one unicorn. He was more sceptical. He was betting it involved an elephant where I had guessed the unicorn would be. The rest of it we agreed on, even the random game of strip poker played by Fabio, Tryhard, Jiibrael and a few generic guards. However, the unicorn-elephant debate remained a point of contention between us.
"Well that's quite a story. Come walk with me..." And with that I was absorbed in his words. Each syllable painted a picture in my head of every little event in the story. And we were pleased. I looked out onto the horizon. A storm was coming, and we didn't care.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to us, a dirty, broken man in a black suit began to laugh in his jail cell. Just as the clocks ran out he began to laugh his cruel cold laugh. He picked up the broken watch from the cold hard floor of his cell, and set it back three hours. Then, the clock's eternally tick, was joined by an equally endless tock. The broken man chuckled to himself and picked up a featureless, cracked white funeral mask. A crude shadow of a human face it was. No discernible features apart from two eyeholes and a small rectangular slit for a mouth. That rose from the floor and covered the broken man's face. He then kicked back onto his bed and snickered to himself. A storm was coming. And he would be free to see it.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
Who are your favourite characters? Who do you want to see more of?
What's the best part so far? Do you prefer the lighter tone of Chapters 1 and 2? Or the darker, heavier feel of chapter 3?
What suggestions do you have for the direction of the plot?
What flaws does the story have? Does it make no sense? Is the dialogue too wooden? Is there that one character you really hate who gets WAY too much screen-time.
Most importantly, where do you think the plot is going? What is Falcon planning? Who is she? What is Dom doing? Why is Hamish so crazy? What does the Silhouette have to do with anything? Why is Atreidon acting so weird? Who is Complex 3?
Part 12: A Flick of the Dominos
Austin was a thin man. Not quite as thin as the skeletal man, but he was certainly far thinner than most. His hair was the same sandy blond shade as many people of the True Court. His face was at the moment etched with the now signature suspicious scowl of that fabled city. It was hard to imagine any so-called "Divine" without at least the lingering shadow of this iconic facial expression hidden beneath their mask of good nature. Around his neck proudly hung a crude golden relief of Notch, the serene expression on his face suggesting he was quite at ease with his knobbly platinum noose. Sweat gathered in glistening beads atop the bridge of his nose, despite the cool breeze flowing in through the open window. His stiff upper lip was bare, the bristles left behind from hi morning shave already regrouping and plotting to retake control of their lost kingdom. On his lip also was a crimson piece of paper, peeled up at the edges. His tussled grey hair sat atop his head in a flustered manner.
He was dressed in a baggy white shirt held roughly together by a faded navy blue waistcoat. His belt was little more than a gnawed leather strip with a dented metal buckle holding it together. He was hunched over the counter of his bar, frantically polishing a crystal shot glass, checking it every few rubs to see whether he had gotten the shine just right. His hands trembled incessantly as he undertook the task. Then the door staggered open on decrepit hinges like a weary servant announcing a guest to its master. In strode the stout man, and the skeletal man.
The stout man looked around, observing every little detail, from the moth-eaten curtains to the rickety little staircase to the left of the counter. The place had been specially closed for this. The doors were locked and atop the tables were the upturned stools. Shutters and curtains were drawn. The candles were all out, the only light penetrating that little fortress were those little slivers crawling in through Austin's defences. A small pathway of light tumbled down the stairs limply, just illuminating Austin's face properly. Behind him was a lone bodyguard who didn't even look well-trained. Brit wasn't even certain this man had served. If he wasn't himself, Brit might have expected this to be simple. He brought himself warily towards the counter, his skeletal friend flitting from floorboard to floorboard with the grace of a butterfly.
"Let's see... Limited budget. That's plain from the shabby nature of this place. Note shaving cut and shaking hands. Little is terrified. Suspicious scowl is stronger than the average. Low grade paranoia it seems. Yet only one guard? I understand he's low on funds but only one? This doesn't add up. Perhaps someone upstairs?" Thought British to himself as he planted his hands on the brass handrail before the counter; after wiping away the worst of the grime and grease with his second handkerchief of the day of course. Then he noticed the man in the trench coat and trilby sitting at the table in the corner, whose hand seemed eternally planted in his pocket. That man whose face was shrouded in shadow.
As he discarded the second tainted rag and replaced it he took a glance at his host. He had frozen almost entirely, apart from an endless quivering. His profound turquoise eyes were fixed determinedly on his eyes. Not on in the way Brit would do it, absorbing all they could. Or Gracey, with a true contempt. Unlike Aaron's suspicious optimism. Unlike even Mini's bizarre, dead calm. It was terror. Unrestrained, pure terror. Brit fought the urge not to smirk in a wide toothy grin he had not used in many a year. "Control yourself you bell-end. No need to let him show through...That's why you have
"Are you not going to welcome us?" Brit grunted, resolving to keep his pleasure to himself. This seemed to snap Austin out of his statue like stupor for a moment.
"Of course! Of course! Please have a seat-" He began, only to be cut across by the detective.
"I'd rather stand."
"Will you have anything to drink?"
"Whiskey."
"Of course. One second." Austin mumbled absent-mindedly, crouching down and pulling out a large glass bottle with shaking hands. Jittery hands slammed the glass bottle down onto the table with a whimpering clang. He poured the liquid messiy, globules flying over the table. When he was offered it however, Brit declined.
"You first." This was for two reasons. The first being the possibility of poison. The second was the fact that the poor bugger looked like he really needed it. Brit may have been coarse, but he wasn't heartless.
"Of course." Austin chuckled to himself in a trembling laugh. He drained the little glass greedily and remarked. "Of course." He seemed slightly better for the drink. Brit needed him absolutely smashed for this.
"Again." Brit politely requested. "You need it." Again this cycle repeated. Over and over. On the third glass Brit asked with as gentle a voice as he could muster, "Would my friend be able to do a routine sweep of this place? Not because we don't trust you of course! Don't worry your little head about that. Just in case someone... unsavory happens to be listening."
"Of course!" Came the inevitable reply. And with that the skeletal man grinned ear to ear and began to slink around the place like a snake.
"Now. Could you please stop saying of course and get me a drink?" Brit pleaded, rubbing his temples in a worn out manner.
"Of cou- I mean sure." Slurred Austin as he poured Brit a glass and slid it across to him. Brit had to move quickly in order to stop it from flying off the table altogether. Austin tried to pour himself another, but Brit stopped him with a familiar bluntness. "You've had enough."
"But-" There was an indignant look in his eye. He looked like he was about to... I don't actually know. He wasn't very imposing, but his teeth were quite sharp. I suppose he intended to eat Brit. However, the cool glare awarded to him by the detective put the pugnacious dog down with a whimper. "Whatever you say." He mumbled grumpily, staring holes into the counter.
"So? The Silhouette?" Brit started in a nonchalant manner. "What do you know?" The second half of the sentence sent not shivers down Austin's spine, but a fully-fledged earthquake.
Who was this man? Did he really work for the Inquisition? What are the consequences of this? was he safe even now? Was he watching? All these questions nagged Austin's mind constantly. It was driving him mad. Never being able to trust anyone. He just wanted to get it over with. Dump the Silhouette in it before he was little more than a brainless husk of a man, mumbling insanely in some asylum cell. If he died, so be it. Anything was better than continuing like this.
As that, Austin sighed with a heaviness to make an anvil jealous and began to speak, forcefully attempting to stop his voice slurring. "Well, that's a long story. I met him about 20 years ago. I was out of work. He was looking for someone to go and recover some old artefact from some village in the Outlands. Well not recover, fund the recovery of it. I was to be known as "The benefactor" and nothing else. Things went well at first, the artefact in question was recovered and the lead archaeologist-professor guy appeared to be compliant. However, that's when things took a turn for the worst..." He slouched down on the counter like a brooding raven. His face dried up, and his lips turned to stone.
"In what manner?" Brit inquired, reluctantly offering the bartender another glass, sloshing it about enticingly; in an effort to bait the shark.
The shark swigged his chum down and continued. "The professor tossed the deal out the window. Wanted to study the item further. Thought it was dangerous. Turned out it was somehow..." He sighed. "And my employer new that. We offered him twice as much but he just wouldn't take it. My employer wanted me to kill the ******* and take the item. So, I went to confront him one night and it turned out everything had turned to complete turd." He paused again, slightly less adamant this time. More expectant.
"That'll only work once. Keep talking or I'll smash the bottle over your face." Brit put quite bluntly.
"You know. I feel slightly more compliant after that." He chuckled, his nerves punching through the great smothering veil of drunkenness. Seeing Brit was unwilling to laugh, smile or even acknowledge his jests as anything more than a personal insult he decided to continue with his stories. "The son of the local lord, some psychopathic brat in his late teens with major anger issues and the worst lisp ever decided he wanted the eye too.
"Turns out the professor's little child assistant was a Herobrine worshipper. Full on cultist if what the brat uncovered was true. He used this as a method for driving them out and vilifying their names." His voice began to croak, and his the shadows of tears just began to glisten in his eyes. I decided to make a deal with the professor. I take the eye and in return I save him and the child. We were to meet by a nearby waterfall at midnight. I don't know why. They decided on it. Still not sure why." A tear slipped silently down his cheek. "I was running late. The brat showed up before me. I turned up just in time to watch him kill the professor and his kid with the same bullet. Kid fell off the waterfall with the eye.
"So, it was a failed job. I've been in his debt ever since." He broke down now. Into his sleeve his wept. Silently, the glistening diamonds fled to the fabric like rats from a ship. His face was in a permanent state of disbelief, as if he were re-watching the event over and over again. Man's old curse. Reliving our mistakes forever.
Brit was satiated. The bartenders tears fed him almost as much as they disgusted him. However, as the tears fell from his face into his rag-like sleeve and sullied it further, Brit couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Was he finally going soft? Brit recomposed himself and decided to further press his victim.
"What do you know of him at this moment?"
At this Austin returned to Earth a broken man. He kept weeping of course, but it was accompanied by a cold, shrill quivering laugh. "Oh well... this is where it gets good." A sick pleasure entered his eyes. "I am this ing close to getting this *******! 3 years I have owned this bar! Seven years I have hunted him in silence! Three years I have searched from here for every loose end he could leave! I know who his other dependants are! I know who his family are! I would know every little event in his life for the last 50 years, if it weren't for his name!" He held up his skinny, dead hand for the detective to see. His thumb and forefinger were a mere inch apart to emphasise his point. "He lived in this bar! This goddamn bar! Its the only reason I bought the lousy place!" The laugh turned to a chuckle; each wretch was an earthquake. The walls of humanity were breaking, on this shell of a man. What power was this Silhouette? To eat a man out from within. To shatter his mind. To leave just this... This animal. He was a force to be reckoned with.
"If you have him under your thumb then why do you need us?" Brit asked, dismissing the elephant from the room.
"Of course! An explanation would be in order." His face fell deadly serious once again. "I haven't the power. Or the proof. If I pursue it any further without consulting someone, it will all be for nought! He's backing me against death's door and I need someone to carry this on. When I..." He gestured with a circular motion of his hand that explained all.
At this point the skeletal Gracey reappeared before the counter and cut the conversation short. "This room is clear. I'll just eh... go check upstairs?"
"You do that." Brit dismissed, regarding Austin with the deepest curiosity.
That was when it started. Down the stairs crept the first notes of a song familiar to all in the room. As the song played on, the notes danced through the shadows around them, uttering their war cry throughout the room. For a few moments the detective and his companion attempted to see the name of the song, and identify its source. The bartender however began to shake beyond control. He instinctively reached up and began to strangle the effigy around his neck for safety. The beads of cold sweat began to thicken on his face and arms, shining white in the golden light.
"He's co-o-o-oming!" Shrieked Austin in a shrill terror, face contorting into a sickening look of pure untainted terror. The "o" noise seemed to last an eternity, adding to the horror. He dug into the counter with the fingers on his right until the knuckles turned white as snow. The left clasped the effigy ever stronger.
Then down cascaded the words to that familiarly unknown tune. "As time goes by" Murmered Gracey, as he looked slowly to Brit, searching for orders.
Brit gave him a mere glance that told him exactly what to do. Find that goddamn piano! And off up the stairs he swept, light as a shadow. Then, he lurched to a stop, and with a flick of his wrist his knife laid itself down in the bed of his palm. Yet, it was unfamiliar, like a cheap courtesan selling itself to him. For it wasn't truly his knife. Not yet.
He had forged it in order to replace his true knife, which had been cruelly stolen from him while he was asleep the night he and Brit arrived with myself and the others (whilst I was being held by Quintus). Linx had been especially helpful in the search for the culprit, despite the trivial nature of the event. Where I had scoffed at his "pettiness", through the veil of irony and hypocrisy I wore from dawn till dusk, Linx had offered help. He had reassured Gracey; he had informed him of their progress. It was a delicacy he could respect, with a tenderness he couldn't hope to replicate. He claimed to have seen the thief, and was familiar with him, and wanted to see him at all costs. He never said who it was though. He claimed it to be "A matter of a personal nature." Gracey respected this. Linx seemed decent enough, and wasn't big enough of a threat to be worth suspicion.
Nonetheless it was a knife and had to be used. Even shadows had to bleed. He scanned the landing. A window before him, the sun lighting the landing through the curtains. Two doors to his right, one to his left. All were of the same dark oaken material. Until his feet was a soft green rug, well past its prime. He was terrible about telling where a sound was coming from so he spun left and kicked in the door on the left.
Then, in he sprang, knife in hand, ready to confront any spectral thug who might dare rear their head. Then, he observed that the room was in tatters. The curtains were torn down from the windows, with the hangers of those still in tact dangling dejectedly. The bed was a mess; covers and pillows torn without rhyme nor reason. The tables and furnishings fared no better. The carpet was spattered with dried blood. The fireplace looked like whatever animal did this had tried to demolish it entirely. This horrific attack had evidently happened a long time ago, for dust was settled across almost everything in the room. Yet no one had bothered to clean it up. It was if the dust was preserving the room perfectly for future generations to look upon and ponder. Yet the portrait above the fireplace was what struck Gracey the most. The face contained within was familiar, but he could not place the name. He decided to abandon his mission a moment to investigate.
A few steps forward and the skeletal man noticed that the portrait was torn, seemingly by a knife. At first he didn't notice any pattern, but then he saw what they spelt out; "FRAUD!" He recognised the whispy beard and spikey gray hair. The proud smile. The weary eyes. The withered face and arms. The fragile, glass-like hands wrapped themselves desperately around the instantly recognisable cane. He remembered all this, yet not the name of the man in the picture. It was like the man was so forgettable and understated, and yet so powerfully memorable he could tear the mere memory of him from your mind without effort. From then on, he would remain a shadow in your mind until he chose to reveal himself once more. In the forehead of the man was a knife, a cobweb cementing it in place.
Then he looked down at the faded bronze nameplate, pondering it with abject and all-consuming curiosity. For a moment he forgot the music. He wiped away the layer of dust, sending the little wave spiralling off into infinity. Then, he saw the badly scratched and patchy name of the elusive figure. It said thus:
"Lord Halberdson: Patron of this fine establishment from 1823 to the proud year of 1864 Post Great Taint."
However, far more interestingly, there was a message carved into the bronze, right on top of the name. Into it was carved a simple phrase that sent chills down his spine:
"NO MORE"
"Fraud no more? Interesting" Mused Gracey. Then he remembered the music and decided to return to the task at hand.
Gracey struck lucky on the second go. The door crept slowly on its shockingly well oiled hinges. In the room, silhouetted against the light pouring in from the window was the phantom player, singing and hammering away at his piano. The Silhouette perhaps? Gracey prepared his knife and set foot on the rug. That's when the man with the brass knuckles struck him on the jaw, and the knife flew from his hand.
"Come now, it was never going to be that simple." Cried the Silhouette from his stool.
His voice was old, ancient even. Yet it somehow sounded even more strong and cohesive than any man younger than he. The commanding voice was untraceable to the point where Gracey questioned that it was even coming from the man in the stool. I suppose that's what he operated on. Creating an impression without giving away anything. No strings attached. No loose ends. He'd planned the whole thing. All this rushed through Gracey's mind as he slammed into the wall on the far side of this landing. Then the brass knuckled man fell upon him, and the two grappled for control of that confined space as the madman played.
Meanwhile downstairs, Brit was trying desperately to be comforting to the hollow bartender. This was not his thing. The best he could muster was an emotionless "It'll all be okay. Do not worry." This didn't help in the slightest. He forgot all about the man in the trench coat, and of the guard behind Austin. Then, as the first sounds of a commotion Brit asked that question which had been bothering him so long.
"How did you get into contact with Kay?" Brit asked. "How did you find out that he was looking for the Silhouette?"
Austin stopped panicking a moment, staring quizzically into Brits profound eyes. "I didn't. He contacted me through a friend of mine."
Brit was dumbfounded. "But you weren't on the lists in Hamish's study! I got a good look myself and there wasn't a non-noble on there! Kay himself told us you were looking to give us information." His voice was exasperated and shrill.. That's when he found his companion's knife.
To be honest, he'd have to have been blind to miss it. Thrice into Austin's side it plunged, each drawing another flow of crimson. The bartender gagged on the red flood within him, and began to splutter on that which gave him life as it cruelly reclaimed that which it gave. In his surprise, Brit allowed those few precious seconds in which he could have saved Austin to slide; he simply stared onward in shock. Then, as the thug discarded the lifeless form of the bartender, knife slipping from his gloved hands, still firmly planted in the rump of Austin. Suddenly Brit tapped into that pool of rage he kept so carefully tucked away in the corner of the grotto of his mind, and pulled out the rotator clumbsily.
An execution was held there and then. One shot to the head. Two to the chest. A clean execution in all but practice. Scarlet spattered the glass cabinets behind the thug as he collapsed against them and slumped to the ground a limp puppet. A few renegade droplets had the gall to fling themselves at Brit and his clothes, just to spite him. Few found there mark, but those that did sank into the fabric of Brit's clothes almost immediately, making them look like the surface of a pepperoni pizza. He instinctively lowered his hand to his pocket to remove the worst of the tainted liuid from his face, when the man in the trench coat began to move.
Brit noticed him just a moment before he struck, a mere shadow of a reflection in the blood-spattered surface of the glass. He whirled around to face him, but down came a club of iron upon his wrist. As the arm shrieked out in pain, the little firearm clattered to the floor sadly. Brit saw his attacker up close, and struck him a back-handed blow across his temple. The trench coated man barely flinched. Brit attempted a second blow. However, trench coat removed a single hand from the metal rod and blocked the blow with a tree-like forearm. The other swung the rod into Brit's left leg, a sickening cracking sound following.
Yet the detective did not falter. As he limped away he grabbed a clay vase from a table and threw it at his oncoming attacker. The trench coat raised to arm to shield his face as it shattered against his mighty frame. Brit followed this up by smashing a fragile wooden stool over the trench coats' head. While this did little to faze him, it did remove the hat from his head and reveal a face Brit was all too familiar with.
A well-known ape-like head reared itself. The yellowish-white bald cap of his head glistened with sweat, and the side-burns were matted down with filth. Coarse black hair ran round the back of his head like a shaggy torque and dangled down in a relaxed manner. His eyes were beady and black, filled with a single-minded rage. His nose was permanently bent, due to the many times it had been done in. Around the base of his neck and shoulders was a similar mat of black fur-like hair.
Glibby The Ape was a well-known serial killer. Named the ape for both his animalistic behaviour, and gorilla-like appearance. Brit had encountered him a number of times before, with Glibby escaping each time. You see, despite the animal-like appearance and methods of murder, he was a great strategist and actually quite articulate. Brit and him had developed a brotherly rivalry over the years. They were the opposite sides of the same coin; Brit was the subdued civilised man with pent-up rage and no social skills whatsoever. Glibby was the obvious barbarian, with his rage coming to the surface without restraint, yet without his appearance he would fit into society better than Brit. His appearance here was of no comfort.
He shrugged mockingly and then struck Brit on the side of the head, sending him crashing into a table. Dust coated the detective as he scrambled into a sitting position. Then he saw the gun on the floor, right between his opponent's legs. He leapt between the great pillars that held up his fortress-like frame. The little firearm was just a few inches out of his grasp when he felt himself being lifted up by the neck with the icy metal rod clasped in the fists of Glibby. He was using it to strangle him. To choke the life out of him.
"I hope you realise that this is strictly professional old friend." Glibby consoled, allowing him a moment's breath. "If it were down to me I would have given you much more warning. Sadly, the boss gave me an offer I couldn't refuse."
Before the ape could apply more pressure Brit was just able to hastily scream out just one word, "GRACEY!"
At this there was the sound of cursing and a man came tumbling down the stairs haphazardly, screaming as he went. Then he landed at the bottom of the stairs and crumbled to dust, being followed closely by a fierce looking Gracey. The skeletal creature's eyes darted across the room to the ape as it strangled his partner. He ferociously snarled and grabbed a fork from the table beside him.
With a flash of dirty silver Glibby was roaring in pain as the dining utensil dug itself into his forearm like a pitchfork... digging up potatoes of blood? That simile did not go as I planned at all... Oh well! So, in his pain the ape dropped his detective plaything to the floor. The detective hobbled away in a daze, rubbing his throat and gasping for air. Then he came to his senses and dived for his gun, grabbing the gun and spinning around as he slid along the floor, so that when he stopped he had his gun trained on the ape's head. And so as the creature tossed Gracey away, it had to stop, realising it was in the hunters sights.
"This is most unsporting gentlemen. Two on one? Hardly fair." Moped the theatrical voice of Glibby, his upper lip quivering slightly. "Some might say cheating."
"Now, now Glibby! When have we ever cheated?" Gracey jested, giving off a great toothy grin as Brit gestured for him to put his hands behind his head. "How's the job going? Life as a serial killer still serving you well?"
"Well enough. Up until this point of course." Replied Glibby as he sullenly complied.
"Now." Brit began. "Here's how its going to go. You're going to sit down and place the hands on the back of your head. Whilst my friend here applies handcuffs to them. Then we're going to-"
"Have a little walk down to the station. Do we have to go through this every time you "capture" me." Groaned the gorilla.
"Actually, I also think its pretty pointless." Came a voice only Gracey knew. He whirled his head to the stairs, and the man he assumed was the silhouette came into perfect view. Yet he was unable to distinguish his face, for it was guarded by an emotionless quartz funeral mask his friends had become very familiar with over the past few months. He was dressed in a spotless grey suit. "Now Messrs British and Gracey, here's how its "going to go down". You're going to let Mr Glibby go, and we're going to leave through the front, you're going to leave through the back. While you're out back you're going to see just what my close friends from the Family have been up to."
"Why in the name of Jeb the almighty would we do that." Challenged Gracey. It was a fair question.
"Because my dear skeleton," The Silhouette answered, pulling his hand from his pocket to reveal a small tube with a button on the top and a wire leading back into his pocket. "I have six kilos of black sulphur lining my clothing."
"That must be highly uncomfortable." Glibby remarked, cracking his knuckles.
"Yes. but its practical nonetheless." The Silhouette conceded sincerely.
And so the two exited through the front door, the duo glaring after them.
"Hang on," mumbled Brit, coming to a sudden realisation. "What did they say about us going out back?"
And thus they bolted out to the alleyway they'd entered through. Gracey arrived first, to find the alleyway littered with four corpses. All were blatantly Falcon's storm troopers. They hadn't even changed out of their uniforms. Yet there was no sign of Mini, and only one corpse seemed to bear the mark of a mace-wound. The others were all victims of what was perhaps a sword or dagger, but more likely a spear; the wounds were too precise for the average swordsman to pull off. An amateur spearman on the other hand could pull off the pin-***** like wounds similar to these any day of the week. Stranger yet, the three slain at the hands of the elusive spearman were all armed with his own design of rifle, like a firing squad. Then he realised, the half-breed was in fact gone. Then he heard the sound of a rope straining, and made the mistake of looking up.
Hanging from a flagpost jutting out of the side of the wall like a branch, was the half-breed in question. His arms were limp. His legs hung like a ragdoll's. His back was turned to Gracey, as it had been when they entered Austin's bar; when they had entered Austin's tomb. Then, the wind decided this was the dramatically appropriate time to change direction, and did so.
Around the corpse turned, to reveal Mini's bruised face. In his forehead was firmly planted a crossbow bolt. Worst yet, from ear to ear was slit a great bloody grin. The colour was already drained from his face. The green scales had faded and turned pale. Around him danced flies in a primal war-dance. From his neck hung a bloodied sign, which read thusly:
"Loose lips sink ships. Be careful who you trust. -Unknown
P.S. Don't worry Brit. He's not scared anymore."
"I in' hate half-breeds." Murmered Gracey absent-mindedly, a single tear running down his cheek.
Cossack's Perspective
Cossack was sitting in the theatre, watching a play and eating popcorn. Then Shrek came in and attempted to assassinate him.
"Rargh! I am Shrek and I'm gonna assassinate you." Cried the ogre.
But it was okay because Cossack used "magic snipers" and killed Shrek. Cossack then gained 3000 XP and 40 Pokeet. He then set his sights on defeating Team Rocket salad and the elite fourteen.
Fabio's perspective
Fabio's perspective is the sole right of the Realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Not for individual distribution under pain of death and or imperial prosecution. Copyright Emperor Dominus, 1877-78 P.G.T. (this is why you never
Kay's Perspective
"And that's how I saved Christmas!" Astro finished to my laughter. "So, good story?"
"Better than any of the I've written. That's for sure!" I wheezed from the chair of twisted iron.
Then a scruffy, dwarven beggar came up. He wasn't much of a dwarf, he was far too tall. About the same height as myself (and I wasn't exactly short). His skin was a soft yet worldly olive. Wrapped around his broad chin was a thick, diamond-blue beard I was all too familiar with. At his temple was a scar, so crudely drawn on in crayon an infant could have done better. His mouth hung open limply, tongue lolling out. In his eyes was little more than a blank nothing. Atop his head was collapsed a crumpled, lime green paris beau. He was wrapped in a great black poncho, with torn and frayed edges and great rips down the back; it wore the battles scars of service proudly and without restraint. He had an almost comically exaggerated limp brought about by his "lame right foot", and moved in a half-drunken hobble. The right leg as a whole was stiffly straight the whole way along, and was more of a crutch than anything else. In his right hand he held a rusty tin mug, within which a various assortment of metal items rattled their pleas of help to any who might be bothered to listen. His left was extended before him, seeking out any potential patrons with an unrivalled prejudice.
Then the beggar clanged his rusty mug down on the table with a well-practised aggressive vulnerability. He heaved his head towards me, and his mouth sprawled into a great, yellow-toothed grin. Speaking of teeth, he was missing quite a few. He tossed his light-blue fringe out of his blank eyes like a wild horse. I was half-expecting the characteristic snort. I was almost disappointed when it didn't come.
"So, it was an elephant right?" Asked the determined voice of Aaron.
"Sorry mate, unicorn." I replied in mock apology, shrugging. "You can verify this can't you Astro?"
"Well of course." Astro bluntly complied.
"Oh screw you Kay! Where's my man-purse!" Aaron steamed, paying absolutely no heed to Astro's presence. He charged off through the crowd, abandoned his entire character bar the lame foot excuse. He even left the rusty tin.
Astro peered in bemusedly. "Well he plays a crazy beggar really well when he's not distracted."
"Does he now?" I mused.
"Yeah, take a look. I'm not sure he brought a single coin with him. The most coin-like device I'm convinced he hasn't gotten here is a very rusty nut with a broken screw stuck in it."
I looked in and he was correct. Aaron was good with details like this. Always added to his performances. He had a number of aliases like this, each memorable in their own name. Today's was his personal favourite; Ecodew of Stoneholm. A truly artful performance in which he portrayed a demented war veteran who believed himself to be a dwarf. Not just a proper dwarf (simply a genetically short man who came from Stoneholm) but a dwarven stereotype based old fairy tales. He loved it so, for it was the guise he had assumed whilst living in Zine Craft. The guise under which he had met myself, Astro and many others. He could play a mean dwarf, having grown up among them. However, due to his height he had decided just decided to have fun and throw together a nightmarish monstrosity of a charicature embodying every dwarven stereotype there was, with a few other stereotypes thrown in for good measure.
I took a glance around. We were seated outside the café where I had met with Void just three days prior, in the Northern spectacle square. Across the street lay the charred husk of the caravan of the poor illusionist. I hadn't seen him since his arrest, despite having attempted to bail him out at the Inquisition building. Turns out Hamish's last order was to lock any person known to be linked to me in any way was to be locked out of the system, not even allowed to visit prisoners. We'd tried any number of surrogates, but Hamish was one step ahead of us all the time. As per usual. Most people just walked by the sad reminder of the barbarism of which so many of them were patrons. However, every now and then I would see some young yob, from either the poor propaganda pits, or the rich ghettos walk by and laugh. Sometimes they might damn the Thaums with a spit in the ashes or curse the Thaumic race with a slur. It was sickening. I decided that it was best not to dwell on the two-faced nature of this accursed paradise, and was mercifully distracted by a familiar voice crackling in my ear.
"Kay, remember the large Thaumic community to the East?" Linx chirped. "The one that got really ed off over all the evictions and recently refused to hand over that crime-boss?"
"Of course. Grumm's making it out to be the end of civilization as we know it." I sighed.
"Well it looks like a whole bunch of them forgot to take off their dressing gowns this morning and decided that today is the day they make their stand nonetheless." My little sneak jested.
I smiled. "Keep me posted. How's the "honourable" Mr Cow's "fine wine"." Asked my voice, as if playfully pondering it.
"Tastes like monkey's . Not worth the gold we paid. But its wine nonetheless. Our boys are filled with a pleasant dose of courage. I hope we don't have to pander to this friend of yours much longer. Will we?"
"Don't worry." I scoffed. "We're leaving that slug to burn in the salt. He's no friend to me. A lost cause to our business. No further business will be done with that cheating swine."
"Well let's be fair, everything looks like a steal after the deal I got us on the old iron kit." Linx suavely reminded in his cocky manner, sliding out onto the balcony of the apartment and looking down upon me.
"I'm sure there's a grey lining to this silver cloud somewhere Linx." I put down. "How's things going for the rest of you?"
"Pretty decent. Little windy up here though." Commented Secret.
"Meh." Key dismissed, painting the image of him shrugging uncaringly very vividly within my mind.
"Some great deals on cabbage here." Remarked ABB absent-mindedly from the merchant stalls surrounding the fountain at the centre of the square.
"Excellent. See if you can find us some paprika and potatoes. I'll make us a fine cake." Astro interjected, inserting his old earpiece and talking avidly into his sleeve. I couldn't help but laugh nostalgically. Astro's cooking was notoriously bad, and he didn't realise it. Aaron, Secret and I had learned just to humour him during our year of travelling the world. My laughter was reciprocated by the other affected parties.
"How did you get this frequency?" Linx inquired, stunned.
"Because Astro and I designed, or rather redesigned the bloody things." Aaron laughed.
"More like salvaged and spit-shone." Astro corrected.
That was when the first shot was fired from the roof of Hellmann's casino, the echoing crack flinging itself across the city. It carried itself gracefully past my ear and straight into Astro's shoulder. And so the astronomer fell backwards disbelievingly, a stream of crimson retreating from his body as heated lead destroyed its home. The black iron legs dug themselves into the ground, scraping horribly as they too buckled from the force of the blow. With the greatest clatter the wizard lay on the ground, dust coating his curly black forest of hair.
I couldn't even cry out in distress, surprise striking me heavily. Yet instinctively I managed to thrash around, seeing the silhouetted figure reloading his rifle from the rooftop. I had between 10 and 20 seconds depending on the model he was using. Then followed the roughly path of the bullet. There was a precise hole through the centre of the sunflower that had sat between us. I couldn't help but wonder whether Huskers had escaped. I looked back again, still too dumbfounded to help Astro or even say anything. I snapped back around again and sure enough the figure had similar white hair and stature. The rifle was also a big giveaway.
Then I became aware that my friends were screaming into my ear.
"Kay what the hell happened?" Shrieked Aaron as he ran towards me with ABB in tow.
"Kay the pride movement is moving in. And they're well-equipped. Good god..." Linx shouted, trailing off at the end as if finding something else to garner his attention.
"Kay, I'll handle crowd control." Key simply told us, attempting quite successfully to take full command.
"The shooter is mine." Growled Secret, instincts kicking in.
Then a second shot was fired, which I only just avoided with a quick dive beneath a table. Then as he reloaded I straightened just in time to see Secret's arrow soar across the plaza and strike my assailant, who strangely hadn't moved, or even reloaded. Straight through it sailed, stopping with a thud that need only be witnessed to imagine. It was piercing right where the stomach and the chest meet each other, leaving him just alive enough for Secret to get over there and apprehend him and squeeze some few answers out of his dying form. It was his method. Sometimes he just did it for the enjoyment of watching the death... Sometimes I worry about him...
"Be careful Secret. He's not dead yet." I cautioned distractedly, ducking down once more as a group of three noble, rebellious Thaums with muskets (easily the best armed out of the whole lot) decided to take pot-shots at the bourgeoisie vermin residing within that evil, spiteful, deceitful... totally random café in the middle of a city when they could be attempting to deal with something of strategic importance. "Its Huskers... I think. Just bear with me on that." And so I stood bolt upright as they reloaded, and with a flick of my wrist and the click of some unseen mechanism the perk sprang into my hand. I squeezed the trigger slightly and two shots popped out, felling one of my assailants. The other two panicked and began to flee from my badass shooting.
I fired twice more, but not to half as much success. One simply caught a sack of flour and coated a few cowering innocents in a ghostly pale, much to their distaste. The other managed to catch one of the riflemen in the back in the shin, causing him to drop and scream in pain. However, he managed to stop himself in a sort of calf-stretch and hobble away as I reloaded.
I then attempted to figure out where everyone was. Key was standing atop the fountain in the centre of the square, barking orders menacingly from Notch's weathered marble nose. Water sloshed over the bottoms of his trousers as he commanded his grizzled band of hobos and renegades like a legion of Notch's own army. I couldn't help but wonder, if this was the worst of the Divine army, how had they ever lost. The ruthless efficiency with which they encircled their attackers, moving the more mobile of the stands into positions which were more useful to them. There were roughly 30 of them, and 70 of their attackers and yet they were winning.
Secret was dancing his was across the rooftops, a mere copper glint in the sunlight. He kept on crackling triumphantly into our ears "so much for the "best sniper at Notch's disposal during the Onslaught"!" Eat it Brit!" He would occasionally - just to show off - fire an arrow mid-leap and pick off some rebel who was climbing the fountain, either with a clean kill or by striking one of his limbs.
Linx was standing disturbingly alone on the balcony of his apartment, firing out at the savage hoards with a practised clinical method. He killed the most agile first, who posed the most threat to Key atop the fountain, with the best armed coming next, and then the bulkiest. Where were his six riflemen? A mystery.
Aaron and ABB were advancing upon myself and the wounded Astro (who for some reason I hadn't decided to immediately help). There was a single-minded fury in my friend's eyes. A determination to help. A determination to kill in order to do so. Any poor soul who got in his way must have been mad. Sadly a small flock off men decided to simultaneously reduce their brain to that of sheep, and offer them up for sacrifice. And so with a flurry of blows my comrade cut down one, cleaving his head from the rest of his body. The body staggered back confusedly a step before the legs buckled and the corpse crumbled to dust, with some customarily flying away to recreate the poor sods form.
There were eight others in the group, all learned from their comrades demise in some way. Some decided to stay back, and linger. Whilst others decided the smart thing to do would be to attack this beast as ruthlessly as possible and kill it before it took that liberty of themselves. No matter how they learned, they all figured out that this was one who did not shy away from war.
And then there was ABB, who had her hefty hammer clasped in hand, contrasting comically with her tiny frame. One of the young ones decided to snicker, much to his misfortune. For the lady didn't take kindly to ridicule. She ran at him, dodging away at the sight of a knife coming forward at her abdomen. She used this peril to her advantage, whirling around and gripping the wrist of her opponent like a vice and pulling it straight as the young rebel gawped. ABB then took her hammer and smashed the young man's arm at the elbow, causing him to roar and spasm, and to drop his weapon and whimper away home to lick his wounds.
Then three more came at her, more ready for her methods now. She was definitely in peril. Aaron, I knew was fine against those odds, but Abby I was not so confident about. No not because she was a woman, but because her effectiveness relied heavily on surprise, and this in turn relied on the fact that she was a woman. And it looked like these three were far less susceptible, with their stone-faced nature. I glanced back at my fallen comrade in a pained manner before deciding to hop over the barriers of the café and enter the fray briefly.
I ran forwards and took the largest one's legs from beneath him with a single swing from Amicus, the lower left leg flying freely away from the rest as it clattered to Earth. My comrade gratefully took advantage of their surprise to crack the skull of another with the thud of blunt, dusty metal. The last, with his rat-like features and sombre attitude stared at us a moment, before shaking his head, swearing and running off after the wounded.
Then in came the cavalry (not that it was needed), a team of Mojang soldiers ten strong, all dressed in their glorious white and blue. Their ivory-plated spears, with their pulsing blue tips were gripped firmly alongside their tiny, round, feather-light shields. Their scalpel ran in where our hammer had shattered and carved out our common enemy from within.
ABB and I resolved wordlessly to let Aaron finish his job and haul Astro from his fallen position to a nearby taxi carriage, and to the hospital from there whilst we mopped up. And so we lugged the dying astronomer to his chariot and laid him down. inside. And so I ran round to the front and without looking tossed the man driving it a fistful of coins and requested he drive our friend to the hospital and see that he was tended to. I was clasping my sword with both hands so rigid they my as well have been frozen solid, sweeping the street for anything other than fleeing civilians and grappling vigilantes. ABB was just slamming the door and coming up to meet me. Then he face stretched back in shock, and on came a voice so unpleasantly familiar, with such a rotting influence, it could have caused milk to sour and flowers to wither.
"O' Course Kay." Mocked a forced cockney. "Least I can do for you."
I whipped round to hear the whinnying of horses and feel the coarse sole of a boot connect with my forehead. I stumbled back, hand clasped over my face. Then, peeling away the mask I glared after the mysterious figure, as he turned the corner dangerously quickly. It was pointless to pursue. He was no one's game now. Too fast for us to catch up. An insult.
"Who was that?" ABB spat, as if cursing him even now.
"Unknown..." I growled.
Then Secret reached his target at long last, having stopped to help thin the ranks. This assassin was no great catch. A pathetic old dog who had let himself hesitate and get killed. He planted his feet on the final rooftop, that of the casino. He strutted his way over to his dying prey, as thick blood painted the chalky white rooftop. The rifle was there, just as described. This was it. The corpse was lying face down, robes wrapped around it. He turned it over and lo and behold, his reward. Attached to the face of the wooden dummy with a paint-bag strapped to its chest was a note that served only to annoy. It read thusly:
"Missed me. Better luck next time rookie. -H"
Then, as Secret fumed he glanced across the square to see his blind master clasping a bow not too different from his own. Then he realised it was pointed at him. He didn't have time to react properly as the arrow struck him where the stomach met the chest, and skewered him cleaner than Secret ever could. As the red-headed kebab lifted a hand from the wound, to see it covered in a deep red glove his eyes widened and he collapsed backwards. He landed in a cloud of dust as his lifeblood tainted the white roof. Then, his hand just began to crumble into dust. Relief washed over him. He was lucky like that. Just before he was reborn, he saw a man wearing a great lapis-coloured veil over his head. In each hand was a curved metal device that was partly a crowbar, and partly an ice-pick. He ran up, grabbed the rifle and then began to fling himself fro rooftop to rooftop like a ragdoll. As Secret wearily reached after him, his vision blurred, and he collapsed, and his body ceased to exist.
Linx observed this with great distress. The figure was out of his range but he had a rough idea of where he was going. And so he dispatched one last attacker before running into the apartment to muster his men. They would comb the city and one would find the other eventually. Sadly, this would not come to fruition. All his men were laid across the room, all dead; all were smiling. They all had the tranquil smile of someone who was just popping off into a great, gratifying sleep after a hard day of working. No wounds were visible. So unless they all simultaneously had a heart attack, poison was the most likely cause. The Old Cow was a traitor as well as vermin. Then he set his foot down and heard the stretching of a string.
"Kay?" He asked, panic rising within him. "Kay are you there?"
"What is it Linx?" Growled I, still shaken from the encounter with Unknown and the assassination of Secret.
"Everyone in here is dead. The Old Cow has betrayed us. The wine was poisoned." He shakily but calmly answered.
"Bugger! Get down here immediately Linx! We have to immediately scour the city for these fiends!" I seethed.
"I'm afraid I can't do that Kay." The soldier quivered.
"Why is that?"
"I think I just stepped on a pressure plate. If I have, its a bomb that's presently hooked up to the gas lighting. They must have hooked it up while I was out on the balcony."
"Linx..." Reality was hitting me again. "Linx! Don't move! We're coming up to defuse it immediately." I whirled round and saw the building as a steep cliff, at which my friend was at the top.
And so I began to run towards it, with the hope of helping him, forming an entourage as I approached it. The last of the Thaums were retreating and as a result my men were able to flock to me. Key was hopping down the fountain. Aaron was at my left, sword in
"I'm sorry Kay that can't be done either. I drank some of that wine. I'll likely be dead any moment now. When I die this'll definitely go off." There was a stone-cold acceptance in his voice now. I couldn't have been more disbelieving.
Had I been there I would have seen how he shook. How every little aspect of him wobbled as he struggled not to shift his weight in any way possible. How cold sweat was shining on his forehead. How his hands were clasped together by his face, shivering as they took that last chance to reconcile with the sins they were the utensils of. How his eyes were elevated, drilling holes into the ceiling with his gaze. I would have seen the crystalline tear, frailly sliding down his face.
"Linx I..." I tried, but no words could come.
He'd always been a proper soldier. A loyal friend. A good man. I'd never quite given him the credit he never deserved for his work. He'd been the one who'd kept the Order of Gaia running. He'd been the one who quelled mutiny in times of dissatisfaction. He'd been the one who'd kept them motivated in times of hardship. Who was I to complain of past hardships? Of having fought in the frontlines of a personal war that seemed increasingly fictitious every time I looked back on it. Of having willingly offered my soul to be a pawn in actual wars, of which I had little grasp. He had been the one who fought MY war for me for a long time.
"It's okay my liege." The calmness was creepy. "If you are an actor, you're one that deserves far more credit."
"What about you?" I was just standing there like a lost child staring incredulously at some adult.
"As for me? Well..." He paused, laughing. "Let's just say its been the performance... Its been the performance of a lifetime." Then he switched off his microphone, and I heard nothing but silence for a moment.
Then the apartment was engulfed in purple flame, followed by a deafening crack of an explosion. The force was little, but I fell backwards out of sheer disbelief. My mouth hung open and I couldn't speak. I couldn't see anything, I could just witness. I couldn't hear, and the ringing didn't help. I couldn't even weep. I could only sit there like a vegetable, gawping.
Then, as I came to grips with the fact that he was dead, and Astro was gone, and I descended into a horrible acceptance of what had happened. I knew what had happened. I was entirely acceptant that it had happened. I knew that nothing I could do would bring back Linx at the very least. But there was no goddamn way I'd let any of that slide. I would make them pay, and that was certain. The person to make pay were the people arming the Thaums. Quite a list of people to kill. Dom, Hamish and Falcon. "A pretty good line-up" I thought.
Then Aaron approached me, disconcert lathering his face. He opened his mouth uncomfortably and spoke. "I think you should see this." I obliged him, feeling that to avert bad news now was to simply avoid throwing a toothpick at an inferno.
And then I stood over one of the corpses, the torn, blood-stained purple robes hanging across his chest. He was in his late 20s, a thick grizzly beard hugging his chin. His hair was wild and ungainly. If he hadn't have lost so much blood from the wound in his side his complexion still would have been that of paper. Nonetheless, if paper could be weathered, his face was weathered as it got. The world was carved into his face with a fine chisel. He was quite well-equipped for one of The Flux (assuming he was of such a group of traitors), with dented iron wrapped around his form.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I asked, honestly confused.
At this signal, Aaron took his sword and flipped over the purple curtain to reveal the emblem on his chest. Carved in with great intricacy was a tree, bright and blossoming. Little doves were nestled in the branches, and grass was carved in beneath. At the foot of the tree was a tiny rabbit, curiously eying the observer no matter where you stood. Through the trunk was stabbed a sword with a flaming blade. As the flames danced motionlessly there did nothing to the bark of the immortal tree. At the nape of the neck was carved a familiar "K", with the ends curled up in a weak attempt at looking "fancy". I glared at Aaron.
"How did they get this?" I demanded.
"I'd assume." My friend sighed. "Its the work of our mutual friend..." And I understood. We were being played in every way.
"We need to return home! Rally any man who can walk and help those who can't. We'll regroup at the Hub and decide what to do then." I cried, mustering all my remaining strength to order about my battered army. I saw Key come forward. "Key. go and retrieve Secret's stuff for me. The rest of you just... just do some . ABB you're in charge." I sighed and took one final glance at my old cuirass, and stormed away.
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
For one, there are a lot of different things going on in the story. At first I found the event-multitasking to be rather entertaining, but later on it simply became a hindrance to my ability to understand the story, which might be a result in a slight change in the pacing of your story, perhaps chains of events becoming more complex and entangled. It's the sort of pacing that I think would work really well in a movie, since there is visual feedback to anchor the audience in their environment, but it doesn't work as well in this case. Perhaps you could try to think of the story as a conversation between you, the narrator, and your writers. For instance, when I'm talking with somebody, I have to add conceptual glue between different things I want to talk about, so that they can follow what I'm saying. Another approach you could try would be to add symmetry to your scene-jumps in the same way that a poet structures concepts into clauses, although you'd probably want to divide your scenes into bigger chunks than just a few sentences. In general, try to think about what your transition adds to the story. Since many of the events I've read happen around the same time, it would be relatively easy to switch them around. You, as the writer, have complete liberty to alter the sequence of events of a story to make the prose flow more naturally. Heck, this applies more or less to any aspect of the story. Cut and paste, ftw!
There are also a couple of cases where the description is rather vague/open-ended, for instance, when Void grabs Dominus, near the end of the fight scene in Chapter 1:
I wouldn't say the description is confusing so much as unsatisfying. There is a gap between Rage pointing his staff and Dominus popping into existence where I expect something to happen, for instance some sort of magical effect fired from the staff and an explanation for how Dominus popped into existence. It also isn't very clear how Void held onto Dominus. Is Dominus levitating magically, or is Void clenching onto Dom's neck Darth Vader-style?
I will also re-iterate from Astro that some characters feel rather underdeveloped. In particular, there are a lot of characters in your story who are merely mentioned by name, without any description to anchor them in reality. If I just hear a character by name, their name has no significance to me, and my brain registers the character as an invisible-ghost-thing which eventually fades into conceptual nothingness. Okay, maybe not quite like that. However, you really should try to give some sort of description to characters no later than just after they are first named, so as to distinguish them from the other characters. I have a feeling this was an issue because your original intended audience was a server community who already knew many of the real-life Minecraft players who make a cameo in this story.
One final re-iteration from Astro is in terms of structure: update your old posts with new chapters and bump the thread rather than having one post per chapter. The edit button still works; you just have to refresh the page after pressing the save button in order to see the changes.
On a more positive note, while I know you said that you felt your dialogue was too long, I personally felt that it was one of the strongest aspects of your writing. The character dialogue felt very real and natural, both in terms of personality and in terms of emotions.
Overall, an interesting story. I especially enjoyed the very end of what I've read so far, when it started to get more action-y and the plot started to pick up (not that slower parts of the story aren't also interesting; I just enjoyed seeing the first pieces of the story mesh together).
I definitely do get where you're coming from, especially in Chapters 1 and 2. Chapter 3 does try to improve on most of these criticism. Well, most.
Admittedly the plot gets even more convoluted, but thankfully I think it's in a good way because I'm certainly creating resolutions for the unlimited number of subplots. However, I do intend to go back over this once it's done and HEAVILY amend the first chapter or two to make things clearer. For example... what the balls is going on would be a good place to start. Set up some back-story for the world and characters in order to remove the info-dumps which occasionally appear and of course explain Dom's "little friend" a little better. Or at the very least an appendix for this sort of stuff.
On the topic of transition, can you give any specific area where the pacing could use some switching? Just as a reference point.
I absolutely get where you're coming from on the front of characters. Some are just potential plot-threads/red-herrings to mislead the reader and flesh out the world/explain parts of the backstory. Others are literally just cameo appearances in order to make people happy. Some are just purely undeveloped or don't have a purpose to the story yet. However, in Chapter 3 I have put a lot into defining many of the more important ones as legit main characters. For example, Aaron, Cossack, Secret and the other council members receive character development.
I have noticed that some descriptions are rather lacking, and when I go back over it once I finish chapter three (with Chapter 4 to go) any descriptions I feel are lacking will be fixed.
On the issue of the posts... There's not much I can do until I can get a BlogSpot to work. I did something I didn't know was possible on this forum. I made a post that was too long. I can't even put the two existing parts of the current finale to sit together. So yeah I can't do anything on THIS site, or the original forum this is on.
But yeah, thank you so much for the critique mate. I will do all I can to correct these flaws.
Regards,
kmandy
Like fantasy? Like Minecraft? Check out a blend of the two here! Fall and a Rise: A Vanillacraft Tale!
In terms of transitions, I didn't really have any place in particular where a sequence of events "stood out" as really needing a transition. I suggested it more as a general way to improve your work and explore your creative juices.
Back to the issue of the posts... I didn't realize you got a CONTENT_TOO_LONG error, so my bad. In that case I understand why there would be nothing you could do.
Edit: Woo, 200 posts!
Part 13: Down the Rabbit Hole
Overhead the lamp swung violently, as if trying to break free from its captor the ceiling so it might flee from the room like birds do before the cataclysm. In truth it swayed so because of the hundreds of soldiers clomping across upstairs, following the orders they had been assigned by myself, or rather, they had been assigned through a series of Chinese whispers starting with Cossack and ending with that strange guy who always smells like fish; they were likely completely warped, but at least something was being done. As the lamp thrashed about, rays of light lashed the dank, slimy old walls of the morgue thoughtlessly. Also beneath the lamps whip were 10 brooding creatures surrounded by old kegs of white wine, all scarred in some way by the day's events.
First there was a man of about 50 years of age, with greying hair and a handle-bar moustache, a drab lilac suit and a barrel-like belly. Usually he oozed a greasy confidence that curdled the blood of all but those who knew him well. Today however, that was silenced, and replaced with a grim concern for his comrades. He, with two others sat upon the rotting crates by the wall, covered by thin, cheap blankets to disguise them as stools. He was a banker by profession, creed and philosophy. Even now he assessed the damage done today as if they were figures in a ledger, with concern and evident investment, but it could be assumed that humanity was kept separate.
Next came the skeletal man, Gracey, who shook most uncharacteristically. His clean, youthful face was in plain view for more than two people at a time for the first time in what seemed a century. He held his old knife in its hands, incessantly scrubbing it even though it was cleaned. Little did he seem to comprehend that sin was not a stain so easily cleaned off, whether his own or another’s.
After this man came the silently weeping Bokane, whose robes were wrapped around him so tight he might as well have been mummified. His eyes were sunk back into his skull behind a blond wall, little drops escaping down his cheeks despite his persistent efforts to keep them back. His wand hung was balanced loosely over his knee. He was biting his lip in a manner not dissimilar to that of a vice.
Then, propping himself up against the wall like a discarded staff was Walt. He kept massaging his temples with force reminiscent of a grindstone. His leg appeared to have fallen victim to assault from some sort of wild animal, the ripped fabric clearly showing bite wounds beneath.
Beside each-other on the bench at the far side of the room sat two men completely different in class and demeanour. On the left was Small Doughnut, the short-tempered career killer from the Zine Craft. He had grown up amidst the aristocracy, growing accustomed to luxury and "culture" as a human right rather than a privilege. He loved the finer things in life, such as painting, theatre, expensive cigars, wine, opium and premeditated murder. His famed helmet of steel and tinted glass was still on his head, just with the metal shell lifted up to his forehead where it rested a moment. His light brown hair was cut close to his head in a military fashion. The triangular moustache he wore was immaculately cut to follow the line of his lip without question, with not a single hair out of place. Today his arm was in a sling, and he cringed every time his chest was even slightly nudged.
On the right was Key, head bowed in reluctant acceptance of Linx's death. His hands were clasped around a little tin effigy of Jeb, making whispered prayers to the Divine Council. His clothes were decorated with grime and blood, and stained in the usual places with sweat. His face too was caked with the hardships of the world, most notably with soot and scabs from his various wounds.
Two others were guards of little significance, standing before the blanketed lumps in the centre of the room. They were simply there to unveil the elephants. Both were prepared for the likely torrent of rage about to be directed towards them. Next to them stood Tejmin, whose soft round features looked half-finished, torn at by grief to the point where they hung off his face like rags.
Aaron and Pi were upstairs, organizing the barricades around our little pocket of resistance. ABB was tending to Brit and the other wounded. Secret had just spawned once more, and, due to a combination of natural weakness and a fatal blow to his ego was unable to join the people in the basement.
I was descending the roughly hewn limestone staircase, heaviness in my movement. I expected little else but the worst to await me down in the morgue (repurposed wine cellar which we used for autopsies). As the swollen wooden door was wrenched open before me, I could barely hold back the rage and grief I held after all of the day’s events. I was greeted by the damp, sickly sweet smell of sewage, coming from the drain at the far side of the room. Not overly hygienic, but we hadn’t expected to use it for anyone on our side before arrival. On the other hand, whoever thought using it as a wine cellar was a good idea had misjudged even worse.
I hauled myself with great effort over to Tejmin and the white mounds. With each step my feather-light clothes turned to lead against my skin, threatening to drag me down beneath the sea of life and drown me. The more I moved, the more they weighed. Yet if I were to stay still, I would be damned. No way out, just two choices, dignity or peace; my old dilemma.
“Casualties.” Said I. It should have been a question, but came out as a statement.
“Yes they are.” Tejmin answered soberly, assuming I was asking about the mounds he guarded with a tamed vigilance.
“No. Sorry, I wasn’t clear enough. What are our casualties?” Asked I, struggling to keep irritation out of my voice.
“Ah!” Said he, putting some energy back into his voice, seeing the sorry state I was in. “Well, considering the scale of the attacks, we got off lucky. Legion fared far worst, with many bombs going off on their turf. The others were mostly unaffected. We lost nineteen soldiers. Ten men were injured. One civilian died. A golem lost an arm. The… The warehouse burned down.”
“What?” Snapped I, this piece of information catching me off guard. “Why didn’t you stop them?!” I added, head whipping towards Small so fast you could have felt it across your face.
“It’s the reason my arm is in a bloody sling Kay.” Small retorted. “I was attacked. Some ****-end threw a rock at me and cracked a few ribs as well as my collar-bone before trying to do my head in. What was I to do? It was lucky Tejmin was there to help otherwise I would also be under a tarp.”
With that I had been successfully put down. I decided to abandon the train of conversation and ask what other casualties we had. After all, it would just have caused complications, using a warehouse full of Thaumic rebels as evidence against Hamish after they just blew up half of the city would cause too much trouble. Would look like we were involved somehow. We still had the butcher and the mousy kid.
"Well." Tejmin sighed. "Best you see for yourself."
He pulled up the first tarpaulin to reveal the charred, but still loosely recognisable body of Linx. He then took a few moments to just stare at Linx. A few moments too long for me. I couldn't bear to look at my failure.
"Pull the tarp back up." Tejmin looked up in weak protest. "Just pull it back up. Cossack, did Linx have any family?"
"He had a brother." Said Cossack. "A twin. In the theatre business. He was in the thing I was in today actually." He chuckled nervously. "He's done quite well for himself, very popular among the upper class here. However, I could swear from what I saw today that he didn't have a clue what he was doing. Suppose that just reflects on these idiots' terrible taste doesn't it Kay? Kay?"
I'd paused. Linx had mentioned his brother before, but had always said he'd been killed in the Palmer's "Scarlet Crusade" against the Realm. Had he been lying to me? Then I realised how little I knew about him. What he liked in terms of literature, theatre, music, even food and drink. I knew he was called Linx, and had a hazy idea of how he had come into my employ. I knew he was the head of the Order of Gaia and was almost blindly loyal to his employers. I knew he had managed to survive a 50 foot fall into a lake of fire. I also knew that he was the one who told me about Austin, claiming he had approached him with some bold promises about the Silhouette. I didn't even know his second name... Or if he had one. Good lord I felt like an arsehole.
"Yes Cossack. Quite." I said stiffly laughing in a hollow manner that sounded unintentionally condescending. "I already knew about this Tej, who's the other one?" Fear started to rise in me like boiling water. Who was it?
Then the tarp was lifted to reveal a green speckled face. On the gurney lay Mini, green face faded to a sickening pale imitation of the colour. The mighty build so many had once feared so unjusly was now toppled and useless against Death - that old shadow. His black eyes for the first time were no longer calm, just empty and soulless, with the little creases of fear still frozen around the edges. His wounds... Good Notch his wounds!His neck had been savaged mercilessly, as if by a wild dog, or a man equally as brutal and eager. Then of course, the smile. Around his mouth was pasted coagulated blood, standing out against his sickly skin in a way which resembled a particularly nightmarish clown.
I did my best not to vomit. I didn't have much else to do. I wasn't sure what else to do. Should I have wept? Should I have burst out in anger? Should I have taken command and immediately sought out those responsible? Should I have tried to laugh it off? Should I have given in and just laugh for the sake of laughing?
But no, for a few minutes I just stood there like a lost child, back to square one. Evidence against Dominus - gone. Mini - gone. Linx - gone. Astro - gone. Sanity - slipping. My weapons were in the hands of my enemies. Complex 3 was still an enigma and I didn't even know whether he was real or whether he was in the roof at that moment. And Hamish was laughing it up back at Dom's estate. Wonderful
I eventually brought myself back to reality, and decided to burst out in anger. Lips curling upwards in rage, air snarling through my nostrils, eyes going bloodshot I slammed my toe into the metal gurney. Then, realizing how unwise it was to do this without steel-tipped shoes on, I recoiled, howling and cursing. As I hopped backwards I continued to breath heavily. Regaining my balance I resolved just to stand there and breath, fists clenched. I'd sworn to myself, to them, to the world that I would get them through this. That promise now lay dead as the pair before me. But I could still bring this ******* in. This wasn't the way it was supposed to have happened. But it hadn't gone totally balls up yet.
Bokane stood up and took Mini's hat nervously. Under an interrogative look he explained, "It's his father's. Once this is all over I'll deliver the news personally."
"Kay?" Cossack prompted nervously from his makeshift stool. "What are we going to do now?"
"Well, what happened first." Said I, trying to recapture my old optimism. "We need to determine if there's a pattern to the attacks. Anyone else get attacked individually? Walt you start."
And so I bought myself some time, before I moved on. Once I started moving, I wouldn't have the choice to stop.
There was a definite pattern. Walt had been attacked by a "wild" dog. Key had been at the attack in the square of course, and he did note that a few seemed to have a particular animosity towards him. Small of course had the incident with the rock. Cossack had dispatched the ogre. Brit and Gracey were attacked by the Silhouette and Glibby, and it can be assumed that the firing squad was intended for them. Astro had been incapacitated by Huskers and abducted by Unknown. Huskers seemed to have been there specifically for Astro and Secret. Pi claimed to have been attacked by someone in our brief encounter upstairs. The only ones who hadn't been directly attacked yet were myself, Bokane (who had been drugged throughout this), ABB and Aaron. It could be assumed, that this mysterious veiled figure was intended for one, or all, of the three of us.
"So, that implies something unpleasant." Cossack helpfully suggested.
"What might that be?" Said Small, irritated by the vagaries.
"Well, one might draw from this, that our enemy had the advantage of knowing precisely what we were going to do and where we were going to be. From here, there are two major paths. The first is that our enemy has had us under heavy surveillance for the duration of our stay. While it is improbable, it is possible, especially with this "Silhouette" and his apparent investment. You have complained to me about being followed by Void, Ryan and the Brotherhood among others have you not my dear Kay? Did you not single one out to me early in the week? Tall bloke? Narrow features?" There was something else in these last statements that suggested he had noticed something which I hadn't.
The cockiness which came with this was sickening. The fact that he could be so arrogant and yet brownnose so unrelentingly was startling. Had I let my council really get this bold?
"Supposing one did follow this train of thought - not to say that I have - we can assume that Kay is above suspicion. He would simply be cutting off his own arms. ABB, I would personally doubt she of all people had the will to do such a thing. But of course, the Falcon has proved just how malicious the female mind can be." Seeing the disapproving looks from Tejmin, Key, and a troubled look from myself he quickly added. "Well am I wrong?"
"Not necessarily. Proceed with your reasoning." Said I, knowing he was afraid of invoking my rage. I would not tolerate mutiny in my ranks. This was as close as any among the Council had come to acting against me. I wasn't sure I quite approved
"Aaron is a good man. I wouldn't say that he is above suspicion. However, I would say that the likelihood of him even realising the profit in such an arrangement - no offence intended to the man in question - is low. Plus I've never seen him harm even a simple vagrant without reason. Why he would organise the systematic murder of his friends is beyond me. That leaves one person... If one were to pay such heed to reasoning such as this."
We all looked at the person he was referring too. The mage was glaring at Cossack with a passion. The two had never gotten on very well, but since the two were appointed to the council they were actively out to destroy each other's reputations.
"Listen you treacherous worm." Bokane burst out, rising to his feet and standing over the banker with his hands balled into fists. "I WAS attacked. I was drugged. Remember?"
"He has a point, Kay." Murmered Walt, cutting across a smug Cossack and rubbing his wounded leg as if he were removing his house keys from a metal surface on a hot day. "I found him completely smashed in the bar."
"Well, surely the culprit would organise a minor attempt on himself. It would guarantee his survival and divert suspicion." Key suggested. He had moments like this where he saw things before the rest of us. These felt uncharacteristic and yet he couldn't be imagined without them.
"Precisely." Cossack said with an air of finality. "That's not to say Bokane did it. It's just to say - stop that guard before he leaves the goddamn room!"
We all whirled around to see one of the guards, thin and narrow in build run off towards the stairs. However, before he could rise even two steps Walt had heroically caught him in a spear-headed tackle an slammed him against the hard stone wall. The "guard" hit the wall first with his back, and then his head followed suit and the base of his skull whacked off of the jagged stones. Thankfully the only damage to either men was to the impostor's pride and his captor's trousers getting mildly damp.
I stormed over as Walt rolled off painfully and stooped, picked the dazed man up by the throat. I then slammed him into the wall a second time, forcing a low moan from his lungs. My nostrils were flared, eyes seeing only red and blood boiling in my veins.
"Who sent you?" I demanded loudly as his vision seemed to clear. When he just stared quizzically I asked the same question of him in a far colder, restrained manner that was somehow even more intimidating to him.
"It was Atreidon! He thinks you've lost it or something! I don't know! He just pays me and I tell him what you do every day!" He whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."
So that was who was responsible. The old archangel had betrayed us. We had shown him mercy. We had forgiven him for his sins, accepted him as our brother. He had drank with my men, and laughed with them, and enjoyed our goodwill and this was how he repaid me. And here, a man possibly even worse. A snivelling coward who had sold out the house that fed, clothed and trained him. Had I not been the merciful creature I am I would have had him killed on the spot. But I was merciful, so I simply clipped his wings.
"Hold this wreck for me." I said, and Tejmin and the other guard were the first to answer my call, both stern-faced and sickened as I was by their comrade. The feeling seemed to be reciprocated around the men in the room. They held the petrified man against the wall, who writhed like a worm in the dry, suffocating sun.
And with that I broke his legs. Two stomps. Two satisfying crunches. It felt good to let lose on someone who deserved it. Then, as I was about to begin pummelling him - perhaps breaking a rib or two, I saw the look of terror in his eyes. The pain. He hadn't had enough, but he didn't deserve that. I settled for a swift kick to the loins. He yelped, biting down on his tongue just to give himself something to do.
"Take him away... Prison ward." I panted, feeling exhausted despite having done little. What was I doing?
And so the morbid pair dragged the man clumsily towards the prison ward, not caring for how they banged the shattered glass-remains of his legs against stone. I couldn't help but feel something was not right. Yet I wasn't sure if it was with myself or with the situation. I wasn't acting myself. I needed rest but I couldn't afford to. What to do next was the question to focus on. "Think you git. Use the brain you boast of." Even the voices in my head were working against me. Wait, was it normal to have voices in your head that insult you? "Err... Yes. Of course. Are we not allowed to have opinions too? That's a really racist question." They said uncomfortably, as if I had just asked something outstandingly stupid. This was all I needed to be convinced really. Then inspiration finally arrived, apologised to the rest of us, explained he got lost on the way here and gave his latest pitch.
"Bokane?" I summoned, drawing the mage's attention. "Who was with you in the bar that could have known about the meeting with Austin?"
He seemed disconcerted, as if he'd omitted something and it was now close to be required. What was he hiding?
"Well, I didn't know. I knew Mini was needed for something but not what or where. Did Linx already know?" He asked, trying desperately to play dumb.
"No he didn't. Mini was the only one supposed to know." He was really boiling my pan. "I would highly advise you tell me whatever it is you've forgotten to mention, old friend."
"Now Kay-"
"Tell us Bokane." Key tried calmly. "You're among friends. Kay won't get mad will you?" I made sure to nod faithfully at his prompting.
"Mini blabbed." He heaved. "Atreidon was with us in the bar and he was in one of his moods. Mini felt bad about leaving him and mentioned Austin's name. Key and Linx were too busy feeling uncomfortable to notice. I was left on the fringes working through the balloon scenario and heard everything. Atreidon is also the one who bought me the drink that knocked me out. He said it was his usual."
"Thank you for telling us this." I said mechanically, voice quivering like a rusted machine that kept sticking. He'd been hiding this for more than just fear of ratting out a dead man. He was afraid of me. I couldn't be more hurt.
"I'm sorry it slipped my mind-"
"No it didn't. Don't lie to me Bokane. You're afraid of me. Tell me why Bokane?" I pried, pan being heated once again.
"I swear it was just a lapse with all that happened y'know?"
"Don't lie to me. Why are you so afraid of me dear friend?" I was struggling to stay calm.
I began to slowly inch towards him, and he to slowly back towards the cider barrels on the other side of the room. The wild lashing lights didn't help the feeling that this was an interrogation. A few more minutes of prompting and he was backed against one of the barrels like it were a cliff. The others had begun physical intimidation. Most were just glaring at him. However, Cossack was cracking his knuckles, and Gracey had his hand nonchalantly planted in his knife-pocket.
Then his defences cracked and all came rushing out like ants from a flooded colony. "I have reason to believe you've been less than generous with the truth about how you escaped the church. There's no way you could have survived in the way you did. As a result I have reason to believe you may be hiding something from us."
So this was how mutiny tasted. Bitter, impure and I had a desire to crush it before more was produced. And how Bokane, sweet Bokane, the one who I had trusted as Astro's replacement could be the one ungrateful and venomous enough to start it. It was too much.
That was when my fist connected with his jaw, and I shrieked out obscenities at him. He felt to his knees, but was not as incapacitated as I had hoped when I threw a kick at his ribs. Bokane whirled and caught the blow with his forearm, flashing a blinding light at my face from the tip of his wand. All was white and spots made my eyes feel like they had a new leopard-print. I staggered a few steps before being pushed back with great force. Vision returned to my world and I saw him there, sword and wand in hand, a shield of energy likely awaiting my next attack. The others just stood there and did nothing, unsure who to side with. At a loss as to how to end this I whipped my arm and out sprang my perk with a whir of clockwork. I raised it to Bokane's face instinctively, and squeezed the trigger.
But before I could slay the mutinous mage a blunt-headed arrow knocked the perk from my sweaty palms. I whirled my form to look at who dared to interrupt. At the door stood a stern-looking Aaron, surrounded by four guards. To his left was Secret, who looked torn between being proud at his admittedly skilful shot, or fearful of the consequences.
"Kay, what is the meaning of this?" Aaron demanded, scolding us both. "Have we not suffered enough loss without killing each other. Was it not the Flying Spaghetti Monster himself who said that a "house divided cannot stay upright in a manner similar to standing"." Upon seeing my incoming correction and protest he added, "What if you had killed him Kay? What if he was dead and Hamish showed up with his attack elephant? You know how susceptible elephants are to magic!"
Despite the nonsense I could barely fight the urge to agree. Cutting off my arms would only leave us weaker. But at the same time, this level of mutiny was disgusting. Treachery was everywhere. Could I trust any of them? Could I trust the people I was trying to protect?
"Sorry," I conceded, offering my hand to Bokane for reconciliation. "I don't know what came over me. Come, let us have lunch." And so we began to sweep from the room.
Before we were all caught up in the bustle of dinner, and I was absorbed in explaining the Atreidon situation to Aaron, Cossack tried something. "Kay, your people leave for the Initiative today. They'll be scared. Will you be present to deliver a statement to calm their nerves?"
I'd forgotten completely about this.
"Well, err... No I will not be Cossack. I have more important things to attend to. Will you deliver the statement to them for me?" He seemed disappointed but complied. He asked if I had any suggestions. "Just tell them to keep soldiering on." And so I continued off up the stairs, unfazed.
But Cossack remained behind in the morgue, frowning. Something was wrong, very wrong indeed. A few months ago and I would have been running amidst the ranks offering obscene words of optimism. He would have to help me through this. He resolved that he would be my anchor. Whenever he was needed he would be there. If only I had understood before it was too late. And so, before leaving he returned to the corpses, kissed each on the foreheads, and tucked them in before hurrying up after us.
The dining room - with its green wool carpet and polished spruce panels - lay still as we ate. It was caught in a sad, lonely silence. None of us were comfortable in the presence of our peers. The food, whilst good, was wasted ash upon our tongues. Eating was all I could do to suppress the fear of treachery, despite the fear that even then someone had poisoned my food. It was the lesser of two evils, die without knowledge before you lose your dignity. The full council was there, with the exception of ABB, who remained the surgery of her own accord to eat alone and "attend to some paperwork". Every now and then Cossack, Small or Gracey would shoot a dirty look at Aaron and Bokane. Secret seemed torn, as if wanting to be indignant at his punishment, yet had none to be indignant about. Cossack, Aaron and even Walt would occasionally look upon me with great concern and worry. I suppose most might assume they were wanting me to do something. If anything, they were more afraid of me doing precisely that.
Once we had finished, I dismissed the servants, had guard placed at the door (consisting of Secret and Bokane who resolved to murmur among each other conspiratorially), and explained to Aaron what was going on. The whole time, I was avoiding at all costs the duel between me and Bokane. He seemed to take it in his stride. Atreidon, the drugging, Mini's death. I wasn't sure whether to feel concerned or reassured. Believe me, I tried to feel reassured. After careful deliberation, he reminded me I was the one in charge these days. ******* was playing mind games.
"Well," I said, masking my distaste. "I recommend that we send out people to tell Void about Atreidon. In fact, Tejmin! Get in here will you?"
In stooped my new captain of the guard, green beret held underarm. He stomped, clacked his boots together, and made the traditional salute. It started by slapping the chest open-palmed, and ended with the arm bent at a 90 degree angle with the palm wide open. "Yes?" Droned he, and he quickly added, "My liege?"
"Tejmin, you have suffered great losses, we all have. You have held strong nonetheless. In memory of first Dawz and now Linx, I ask you to take his place at the head of the Order." Said I, putting on as official a tone as I could, pulling out Linx's old badge.
I had plucked it from his corpse for this purpose. Some might call that looting the dead. I called it providing a memento. Giving him a reason to keep fighting. I looked down upon the little gold dot. In the centre had once been an embossed tree of Gaia, with a flaming sword rammed through it. Around the edges were once the words the words "Gaia vitae". But now the bottom half of the blossoming tree was completely scorched off. I smiled to myself, remembering how he always used to wear the badge upside down. At first it was an accident, but then it just became a running gag. Hang on...
But before I could complete the thought Tejmin took the badge from my hand with purpose. He then placed his hand on my shoulder sturdily. He stared into me with morbid gratitude. Then, he embraced me firmly. It was unorthodox yes, but not meaningless.
"Atreidon will pay. The Overlord will pay. They'll all pay. You have my promise. I won't let you down." He whispered. He was fully on board. I no longer had to pester the Cow to little avail.
"Then make sure Atreidon doesn't survive the night. Make it look like an accident if you can." I returned.
"Any recommendations?"
"Remember what happened to Josh's brothers?" He nodded ever so gently that only I could tell.
Then our embrace ended, and the pact was sealed.
Immediately after lunch, Tejmin was waiting in the stables, completely alone. In his hand was a small sack of precious stones. The floor was covered with straw so thickly that you could have sworn the building's very foundations were made of the dried out stalks of wheat. The horses shuffled their feet, unaware of the exchange about to take place, but still looking wary. Every now and then a nervous whinny would go out through the stalls, only to be consumed by the dull wood, and the stifling hay. The late afternoon sun kept the stables just bright enough for Tejmin to see without a lamp, despite the knobbly and rain-eaten doors being shut.
Then there was a thud behind Tejmin, who turned around calmly to face it, hands on the hilt of his knife at all times. Just a precautionary measure to keep him alive if this went sour. Before him hunched the man in the blue veil. His hook-like blades were still clasped in hand, as usual. He was breathing heavily, as if having ran some distance.
"A little late to be visiting me isn't it Tejmin?" He spat.
"Hello Nek." Tejmin return genially. "How's the doc?"
Nek was one of the best in the business. Master of framing other assassins, bounty hunters and even random civilians. Never showed his face either. Tejmin wasn't even sure what he looked like. The few who had seen his face all described a different man. Some placed him with auburn hair, others with dark black. Some described him as a half-breed while others described him as an Endling. And thankfully, Tejmin had managed to help him out of a sticky situation a while back, learning the secret to his success in the process.
"What is it it?" Nek requested, ignoring the question entirely.
"Atreidon. Don't stop hunting until he's dead." Tejmin elaborated. "I'm aware you have acquired a certain asset, which may aid you in this process. How long do you have it for?"
"I return it at midnight. However, I must ask what makes fitting this into my busy schedule worth the effort? I have another contract running tonight and I may not have time to deal with him."
"Of course. This is of course a long term contract. It's only completed when Atreidon's head is mounted." Tejmin said, before rattling the bag mercilessly. "This to ensure compliance. Ten pounds of diamond, six of emerald. I'll send the doc Twenty pounds more of each when the deed is done."
"Sounds like a plan."
Tejmin smiled. The storm was upon them, and they were in control.
Bokane's Perspective: An account written years later
Bokane left the meal unsatisfied. He had eaten little of course, but of course the reason he hadn't was the important factor. Just for a minute, the cracks had begun to show in my facade. It satisfied him that he had managed to off "that cocky git" so much. However, he was also afraid of what this meant for him. You see, whilst he would never admit it, Kay had a bad habit of side-lining himself, Mini, Key and sometimes even Small as a "B-Team" of sorts. Perhaps even a C-team when Kay was in a bad mood. They were the last to receive praise and the first to be criticized. Worse yet, Kay seemed to expect him to be Astro's complete replacement, and seemed disappointed with anything not entirely identical to what his predecessor would produce.
"You have every right to wind him up." He would tell himself. "You're the backbone of this bloody operation and he treats you like little more than a pet rodent."
But this had gone beyond winding up an unjust boss. Bokane was convinced there was something off about Kay. There had been since he failed to save Prodigy. Since Hamish returned it had just gotten even worse. Kay was obsessing, it's what he did. It started with Hamish; then went to defeating the Endlings; then Hamish again; then things got better for a while; then there were ten years of war upon the Brotherhood; then with the Nether Hub Kay seemed to recover once more; and then of course Hamish returned once more. To be honest, Bokane wasn't sure Kay had ever gotten over Hamish. Every time Hamish or anything to do with his past before Zine Craft was mentioned, Kay would fall quiet and moody for the next hour or so. The best they could help for was that he would desperately try to change the subject and conversation would become hopelessly awkward for the next twenty minutes.
Bokane supposed he couldn't blame him entirely. They had lost so much in the last few months. They'd all taken a huge blow to morale as a result. But Kay, despite soldiering on, seemed to take it the hardest. He seemed to feel that every man lost was as a direct result of his own incompetence. Now that the man who had ruined his life had shown up as a key supporter of his enemy, was he truly at fault for going a little crazy and acting secretive? However, on the other hand Kay was being a total distrustful , and had just tried to blow a hole in his head. Why was life filled with so many moral dilemmas?
As he came up to the surgery on the way to his room, Bokane came to a conclusion. He determined that he had in fact been rather suspicious of and hostile towards Kay as of late, and that he had exaggerated many of his boss' shortcomings. He also determined that I would snap out of this once they were out of Mojang and had me out of the same neighbourhood as my enemy. As he came up to the door of the surgery he started making promises to himself. He would be loyal. He would give Kay no reason to be angry with him. He would perform so well Kay may as well do away with Cossack and Aaron and have him as his most trusted confidant. He would - not get involved. He wouldn't look in. He wouldn't pay attention to her. He would - look in to see ABB weeping against the desk. But he most certainly wouldn't - walk in and say hi. God dammit.
"H-Hi A." Bokane stammered. "You okay?"
"Oh hi. Hi Bokane." Said ABB, wiping her eyes, faking a yawn and pulling herself together. She then proceeding to reach around for something to look busy with. "Just catching up on some work."
Bokane wasn't convinced. "ABB we've all been hit hard today. It's no shame to show it. Okay, perhaps not to the extent Klueless shows it but still avoiding that level should be fine." Bokane chuckled. Abby didn't seem to get the joke.
"What about him?" She asked.
"Just avoid breaking prisoners’ legs and pointing a gun at my head and it'll be fine."
"What?"
"Never mind. It's not all that interesting."
"Nah I'm interested."
"Well," Bokane considered. "Nah I'll just sound snarky."
"Oh." ABB accepted. "I understand."
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Bokane in truth sort of had a thing for her but was never able to say anything beyond getting himself deeper entrenched in the battlefield that was the friend zone. But this wasn't cliché because he's a wizard! Oh wait... He had come in with the hope of perhaps winning some points for sympathy and perhaps actually gain some ground. However, he just ended up feeling like a scumbag for not only attempting to take advantage of her in the most vulnerable position ever but trying to use Kay for a cheap laugh. He tried to think of a way to reconcile himself, perhaps lift her spirits. Abby broke the silence first.
"I miss Linx."
"I miss him too, he was a good friend."
"Yep, I can't believe he died so soon after proposing."
Had Bokane been drinking something he would have engaged in the ultimate spit-take. He could barely control his shock reaction and managed to stifle it to a "Linx was engaged? Who to?"
"Me." At this point the contents of Bokane's bowels emptied with entirely and he head whipped to ABB at breakneck speed. "You didn't know?" Bokane shook his head. She let out a sad chuckle. "I thought everyone had caught on. I'm pretty sure even Klueless suspected something. Linx decided to keep it quiet until this whole Dom business was over." She pulled out a small silver ring with a little shred of emerald inlaid at the crest and glinting like a mighty sun rising over the horizon and twisting it thoughtfully. "Or morale was so low we needed a wedding to stop the men shooting themselves." The two laughed with great unease.
Bokane couldn't feel like more of an . Not only was he trying to cosy up with a girl in mourning, but it was also his mate's fiancé. Brilliant. All he needed now was Atreidon to show up. Then he heard the window slide open.
"Now before you hurt yourself please let me speak." Said the old archangel, hands spread out defencelessly.
Bokane rushed at him, and was about to connect his sword with the meat of Atreidon's shoulder. At the last moment he dodged to the right, and grabbed Bokane's arm firmly. With a quick twist Bokane's purple broadsword plummeted towards the ground. The clanging sound would alert the guards. At least that's what Bokane believed, for there was no clanging sound. Atreidon had caught the blade between thumb and forefinger, before twirling it round to the handle for use. Bokane reached for his wand, but found the tip of the cold, deliberating metal pressed against his neck. He could have sworn he heard it whispering, debating with itself as to whether to kill him or not.
Atreidon then crouched, concealing himself behind a desk, and moving the blade down towards the stomach as the clangs of a patrol grew nearer. Atreidon's eyes darted towards the door and he gave Bokane a little jab. The instruction couldn't be clearer.
"ABB be a darling and get the door will you and get the door? It's letting in a horrible draught." Said Bokane, glaring at his assailant.
To be honest, Atreidon looked just as scared as he felt, but had a greater feeling of purpose to him. This was a man who wasn't afraid to lose anything. Perhaps there was nothing left to lose. Had his employers betrayed him? Had Void caught on? Was Void just really fast in responding to Kay's messengers.
Abby followed his instruction with a curious vigour, but also a spiteful aura. She actually looked like she was about to slam the door before seeing the guards stalking their way down the hallway. Two men with genial faces who she knew well. She exchanged a few pleasantries with them to avert suspicion.
"How goes the watch Gaians?" She jested, her voice subdued.
"Dull as ever." Replied the shorter of the two, a man called Joseph. He'd been a singer before joining the Gaian army and his voice had a magical quality even in such dull speech as this. "Is that Bokane I see in there?"
"Halloa!" Bokane called, raising a hand respectfully.
"You don't look so swell sir." Said the taller and lankier of the two, a young farmer called Taxi. He spoke slowly, with a heavy drawl creeping through his thick, lead-like lips.
Bokane cursed himself and wiped the sweat from his brow, and attempted to put some colour back into his face. Atreidon pressed the blade towards the base of his spine. "It's nothing, just a cold I was wondering if ABB could help with." The archangel slackened the sword and Bokane could swear he saw him smirk approvingly in the corner of his eye.
"Ain't no fancy healing magics can fix that." Joseph belted, taking an eager step into the office. "I'll get you the recipe for a nice fiery soup-"
"Don't you have a patrol to be on?" Bokane interjected at the feeling of a jab into the small of his back. Feeling rude he added, "Kay's not himself this evening and trust me, he won't be tolerating any nonsense."
"Alright then." Joseph answered, seeming disappointed, offended and wary at the same time. And off swept the guards and Abby slid the wooden door closed.
"This had better be important Atreidon. I was in the market for a good cold cure." ABB scolded.
"Well, this might sound preposterous but Kay is "Complex 3". He has been this whole time." Atreidon began, to the quizzical scowls of the pair. "He orchestrated the day's events fully."
"Bold claim. Any backing?" Abby quivered, rage building up but she was not sure who to direct it at.
"Kay's going to use this to attack Dom's manor and finally kill Hamish. He hired the assassin's via the Old Cow. That's why he tolerated the slug. Did you really believe he just wanted a new bartender?"
Bokane did give a look of submission on this point. It did look pretty strange that Kay would go to such troubles to please a man just because he was a "good" publican. It looked even more foolish when you considered that the old cow was the richest publican in Underworld, and third most successful in the city of Mojang.
"Kay sent the Old Cow letters the second he found out Hamish was following him." Atreidon elaborated. "He knew from prior communications that the Flux were planning an attack, and threatened to expose the Cow's connections to them the Cow laughed him down and threatened to the expose him as being without citizenship.
"So the two found themselves in stalemate. Then Kay proposed a business deal. He would make some under-the-counter payments to the Cow in return for cheap wine and in return the Cow would send on money to professional assassins. They would then take advantage of the Flux attack which was scheduled that day to launch a series of attacks on the Gaian leadership. Thing is, Kay didn't want many of the leadership to die.
"The only ones Kay said he wanted dead were yourself Bokane - I think you can guess why - and he was afraid Linx would figure it out."
"What do you mean?" Asked Bokane.
"I mean that Kay intended for the Flux to get those weapons. He got the Cow to send Linx a buyer for your old armour sets. Kay, to his credit, made sure the majority of the equipment was either defunct or inferior to the average, making the Flux more easy to defeat. Nor did he know of Hamish or Dominus' involvement in the organisation.
"Quintus caught on. Decided to confront Kay about it. Sadly Dom thought he was defecting and didn't know the equipment was defective. So he sent Huskers to kill him. Kay figured that if Quintus could catch on, Linx might figure it out too. And so... Today happened."
"Why did you drug me?" Bokane asked, even though he supposed it was self-explanatory.
"The drink was Mortbrush, or at least that's what Beatman called it. It's a derivative of a drink that slows your heart down to a level which could kill you - called Mortprettycertain - by slowing your heart down to a point where it might even stop. Beat, wanting to experience such a brush with death, decided to add a stimulant to keep the heart beating and the lungs going. You'll have the appearance of death for about three hours. He always did love getting just close enough to death to flip it off from, whilst still being out of its reach.
"As for why I did it, well, that's simple. Kay hired an assassin for you so I decided to make it look like you'd died of a heart attack or something. Thankfully the bloke wasn't bright and fell for it."
"I'm still not seeing any proof." ABB pleaded.
Atreidon at this slammed a letter down on the counter and slid it to ABB. It arrived with a depressed, whining scrape. Abby lowered a trembling hand and pulled out the first of three letters.
"Cow wouldn't give me them all. The first letter is Kay's request for Linx to be murdered, and the second is the details of Kay's payment for the "wine"."
"What is the third?" Bokane sullenly inquired.
"Kay's reasons." Atreidon answered. He then sighed and elaborated. "He's dying."
They stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure of what to say, or what he had said. Then Abby gasped, and clasped her hands over her face, and realisation hit Bokane like a sledgehammer. Of course. That explained the erratic behaviour, ranging from quirky and bombastic to angry and uncaring.
"How's it happening?"
"He didn't just walk off that blow from Antioch like he pretended to. Within a few hours of Secret, he got major back-pains. So he asked Fluffy for some healing ointments for his back and was done with it. For a while he was fine, but as the Overlord's Crusade his condition worsened. The back pains got worse and he began to urinate blood, whilst common painkillers only seemed to slow the process. He didn't want to worry anyone so he only had a few select people in on it. One of which was the recently deceased Linx, who I extracted this information from on one of my nights out with Bokane and company.
"However, Kay wasn't totally stupid so when the chance to pick up Brit and Gracey emerged he resolved to visit a reputable doctor in their area who they visited frequently. The doctor in question, S. S. Potato is one of the most reputable in his field and conveniently specialises in unseen injuries. Plus, he was completely unconnected to anyone he knew, and he was coming up for one of his monthly check-ups so he wouldn't scare anyone.
"The doctor couldn't help him. Kay had left it too long and put himself under too much strain. He was given three years to live if he was calm and collected. He got sixteen months if he continued at his current rate. So, Kay decided the best way to go about it was to live life to the fullest and not tell anyone. Sadly, his idea of living life to the fullest means settling old scores. With this Hamish rearing his head again, Kay focused his attention to that. If he survives this, he will likely turn on what remains of the Family and then the Brotherhood."
"What does Kay know of your investigation?"
"Nothing. I suspect that breaking that the poor bloke who got his legs broke was the first he realised of it, and assumed I was in fact this "Complex 3" as a result, possibly believing me directly responsible for killing Mini. So his qualm with me is legitimate in his own mind. He's not without priority."
"The sudden change in attitude?"
"Mini told me all I needed to know, Austin's name. I then ran off to help before the attacks were launched. Sadly I arrived late." Atreidon's face flushed guiltily.
"What does Void have to say about this?" Abby asked, voice cold with anger.
"He refuses to believe me, even in the face of this evidence. So I doubt he'll believe Kay based on only circumstance." Atreidon conceded disappointedly. "I'm the only one who can do anything about this."
Bokane stood silent for a moment, before letting a hoarse croak come from his throat. "I'm sorry, I can't believe you. Come on Abby let's go."
Sure Atreidon had put together a convincing case, and the letters looked legit. Where the discrepancies appeared, I had produced explanations just as sketchy. However, he just couldn't bring himself to betray me. It was against his moral code. He stormed towards the door, and placed a hand on the icy handle of the door. He dropped his head against the door with a dejected thud. Abby hadn't moved whatsoever.
"So that's how it is." Bokane mumbled, before wrenched the door open and rushing out. However, he did make sure to send it flying back with a thunderous crash on his way. The storm was upon them, and he would have no part in it.
Kay's perspective
After receiving the blow of Void's denial (an hour after lunch), I decided my best option was having a long walk to collect my thoughts, perhaps get to grips with what had happened. To be blunt, I found no solace in my solace if one can catch the drift. Everywhere I went I was tormented by the dead, their cries, silent or screeched embodied the air around me. The scheming fiends I called my friends allies hung always in my shadow, plotting to stop me at every turn. To stop me from saving them just to spite me. Aaron; Bokane; Atreidon; Tauto Chrone; Void; Ryan; Cossack; Ruary; all of them. All were seated around a table just behind me, discussing how best to bring about all our mutual downfalls.
"Self-destructive worms." Thought I. "Do they not understand that I am one of them? That I wish to do nothing but save them? I concluded that at least some did, and this was all the more sickening.
Worst of all, I could not escape my enemies. In the posters plastered across the walls, Dominus loomed in the background, seeing all and calculating everything. From every crevice In the sky I saw Falcon, and the clouds were her Family; always visible but never tangible. In every figure who passed I saw a potential Silhouette; all eying me in a perturbed manner but none giving away their names or addresses. Worst of all, in every sound I heard Hamish. The rustling of the leaves whispered his mocking into my ears. In the footsteps around me I heard him escape my grasp. In the voices of the heralds delivering Public Service Announcements to terrified peasants I heard him boast of his success. I felt him too, through the bitter autumn wind slapping me in the face. He was untouchable, but could still hurt me without trouble.
Unable to take this I had returned to the school, and retreated to my wound. On my way I had passed a sour looking Bokane. Little was passed between us but a mutual scowl as he passed me by, leaving the surgery in his dust. I thought it best to avoid entering the surgery. I wanted to apologise to Abby for not considering her and Linx's relationship - that's right, even I caught on eventually that they were best friends - in the plaza, when I left her in charge. However, from the sound of the sobbing coming from within, I thought it best to come back in a few hours. I wasn't in the mood to offer morale support to the weak.
And so, unwilling to return to my room so early, I wandered over to what was once the staff bar, and was no the officer's lounge. It was still fairly full despite the thinning it had received earlier in the day.
It was a roomed of polished brown oak panelling, with a fuzzy peach carpet. Around the edges were small four man booths. Highly cushioned heavily, these seats held two men on either side of a fine mahogany table, glazed to near perfection. This would protrude from the wall, propped up by two little supports. The corners of the table were sanded down to flat edges, so smooth one could without fear of splinters use it as a back scratcher for a solid four hours. Trust Cossack, he'd tried.
In the centre of the room was a great bar counter, attached to the wall by measurement of eight barstools. There was then a diagonal turn inwards of one stool, and then a length of four stools stretched the gap between the two counters. In the centre was a tower series of bottles and kegs of various drinks as old as the first rock that found itself upon the surface of this earth.
Throughout the room were spread the Gaian officers. The room fell from uneasy conversing between proud men in black suits and green berets and the members of the Council into a suspenseful silence.
Each member of the Gaian council seemed to have their own little clique of officers around him. Small sat in the corner of the room, debating with the man who sat across from him, who sounded suspiciously like Secret. Around them was a total of nine officers. Cossack, Brit and Gracey sat with eight amassed, all sweeping the room with a crippling suspicion, and eying a man sitting at the counter dirtily. Key sat apart from any member of the Council, with two officers around him. Tejmin stood by the door, four with him. Walt stood across from Tejmin, with three flocked to him. Pi sat at the counter next to Aaron with four immediately gathered, the centre of Cossack and his clique's venom. Around the room twelve officers found themselves undecided or independent of the other powers. Around seven officers (including Abby and Bokane) were unaccounted for.
I marched up and issued my challenge. I sat down at the counter opposite Aaron, doing my utmost to ignore him. Slowly but surely, the boundaries were drawn and men flocked to their masters. Cossack, Gracey and Brit brought their eight with them. Tejmin brought his four and two more to the counter. Key stuck with the one he pledged himself too, drawing one extra officer to our cause. Small reluctantly stood by us, with his one officer. Secret brought eight to Aaron's ranks, three stragglers following. Walt brought his three and one additional. It continued on roughly even footing from there, with us ending up two men ahead. No man dared to stay undecided.
Then, for the next hour Aaron and I had an unspoken contest of presence, locked in combat. When I reshuffled myself, he would. When he stretched, I would mimic to the amusement of my men. All the while the officers would hang around us like pawns in a chess game. The contest culminated in an unspoken drinking contest. The more we drank, the more bold we both got. We might even have begun to speak had Abby not entered.
"Aaron," She said weakly. "I need to talk to you. In private."
Aaron nodded his confident nod and followed her. I too left the lounge, unwilling to maintain this tenuous standoff when my opponent was not present. Why punish a troublesome dog who lost its head in its tomfoolery. It didn't help that it was about time to replace my bandages. When asked whether I would take dinner in my room by Cossack, I declined to eat anything until we brought Atreidon to justice.
And so I dragged myself into my room, and hurled myself onto the mercifully soft bed. It was a foolish move, sending a spasm of pain through me. I wasn't as young and strong as I once was. I reached into the drawers to the left of my bed, pulling out a fresh bandage and the bottle of ointment. poured it on liberally. I was the king of Gaia's Domain, and getting more was as simple as snapping my fingers. Just as I finished tying the bandage around my waist I saw the painting of the council under Peter, and mourning met me.
"So many died. Yet I had to hold strong. There was too little time to mourn." Thought I, "Why did I agree to the peace talks? I was weak, I should have struck again and torn the Brotherhood up from the roots. I could have stopped all this before it began... But no, I lost my nerve and here I am. The Brotherhood lives, Hamish is back and Dom is on the verge of destroying us all. I gulped, staring from photo to photo.
On the far left was myself, looking decades younger, even though this had only been painted a year ago.
To my right was Antony Mo, the warrior banker; one of the triumvirate that once ruled the Guild of the 24 Diamonds (check if this is cleared with Astro before release). He was the Boldest of us all, journeying where none dared go, master of the seas.
Ice Shark of Industry came next. The genius, the master. He who made metal ships which could travel under the lava like it were water.
Then came Peter himself, his greying mane of hair wrapped carefully around his head. Atop his head sat the crown I so rarely wore, in memory of the man.
Next was his eldest son, Josh. He was a fool who got himself exiled twice, once by his father and once by myself. We hadn't heard from him since the Overlord's Crusade. This was reassuring. He had had two other brothers, both equally foolhardy and dangerous. I feel no sadness for what happened to them.
Next, General Itzburg glared at the painter. He could try and hide his warm, soft centre all he wanted. I'd read his diaries and couldn't view him as cold and scaly since.
Then Tassadar, young Tassadar. She was just six and twenty years when she fell. She'd been kind, friendly, fun-loving, inviting, intelligent and easily the fiercest of us. Atop her shoulder, just to the right of her oaken locks and round grinning face was her pet eagle, Cyanide-Cookie. Many a time I'd asked her why she chose this name, and she'd just exchanged a knowing grin with Astro and asked me why I called my ship the "Celestial Potato". I couldn't argue with her their.
Lastly was Astro. Like myself, he looked so young, so happy.
I vowed to avenge them there and then. To make the ones responsible for destroying this great kingdom pay. "I will destroy the Brotherhood. If Dom doesn't do it himself, I'll kill every last one of them." I promised myself, snarling through my nostrils.
"Isn't that just charming." Came a stern voice from an armchair, turned towards the window and the open balcony.
My eyes darted upwards. I was about to turned when I heard the click of a perk. I looked to my right to check the tall mirror. He'd smashed it perfectly, so that nothing could be distinguished. Clever. In my rage I mustn't have seen it. He was seated flawlessly as well, so that he could trained his gun flawlessly on me, but also be invisible to me and anyone who came in through the door.
"I got your message. I came as soon as I could." The voice from the chair said. He was starting to sound more and more familiar. And I didn't like that.
Then the door swung open and in poured ABB with four guards, all armed to the teeth. So, Aaron had made his move.
"Kay Mandy, King of Gaia's domain, Lord of Frostblade, Slayer of Tauto Chrone, you are under orders from General Secret Lol and Councillor Aaron to accompany us immediately." She recited with a malicious zeal.
I looked at my side. Amicus waited there attentively, longing for blood and battle. The perk was still up my sleeve, three of four shots left. Abby was good, but when surprised she was little better than anyone else. The other four were nothing I hadn't seen before. I judged that my odds were favourable and sprung, with the man in the armchair springing with me. The Storm had come, and it had come for me.
TO BE CONTINUED
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People of Mojang, The Divines have lied. We have been kept in the dark about our true story. We have been lied to about our heritage, and this is a wrong I seek to right. There once was a periodical written by myself a long time ago, based on old diaries and scraps of history. It was discontinued after four instalments. It was dismissed as a piece of fiction I had lost passion for. I tell you now my brothers, every word of that book was based on cold fact, and I was a coward to heed their threats. The truth must be known! And now... as I grow weak and feeble, and Herobrine waits on Mojang's doorstep, I shall at last swing my final blow at the deceivers. What you read now is not written by me, but by those the Divines sought to silence. The truth shall be know... - Sangiin
Rebirth
And so Steve at last faced the jaws of Infinity, the End. His people would be avenged. Ishinge would pay. But he knew not why. His world was still lost in shadows. Had his people been good and just? Had the dragon really destroyed it? Steve knew not. And he cared not. He simply understood that this was what had to be done.
He pulled out the last fabled gem, and considered it a moment. Should he really waste his life on the trivialities of a people long dead? Should he not seek to rebuild what they lost? To find those few who still breathed? Perhaps. But Steve knew not. And he cared not. And with that he opened Infinity's jaws and gave himself to them.
He awoke on a plinth of the black stone, with two of Ishinge's followers stood before him, the Endlings. They with their twisted black skin, their blade-like arms and legs, and their sword-like teeth. They with their gaping maws, with the shadow which exuded from their skin. They, the tainted ones.
They watched him, confused. They had destroyed these people in their war. The Endless War. Man had sought the power of gods. The power of Ishinge. They had been anointed by it, and it consumed them. So here man's last child stood before them. And they knew not what to do. It scared them.
Steve rose and demanded to see Ishinge, to settle affairs with him once and for all. One guard went back to the great Temple of Ishinge, on the floating isle of Terra. He knelt before the great dragon - he who sat atop the obsidian throne, and told him of the traveller. Ishinge pondered how to deal with this. He decided that the best way to slow this man down was to test him. Was he man or god? And so he twisted the Endling, making it stronger, more angry. More animalistic.
Steve grew impatient, and approached the Temple to the protests of the guard. He was about to set foot on the great stairs when the beast hurled itself down the stairs and landed before him on all fours.
"Who are you to believe you have the right to challenge a deity? Are you man? Or are you a god?" It asked in its rasping voice, panting like a great hound.
"No. I am your downfall. I am man." With that Steve beheaded it, and carried it's warped visage in his hand, and his sword in the other.
Then Ishinge sent the mother and father of the fallen guardsman.
"How did you end our son so quickly? Truly you must be a god to be so skilled in battle?" They asked of him.
Steve handed them the head back, and it was restored to it's youth. Before they could believe their eyes the body grew back into it's former shape.
"No. I am the bringer of justice. I am man." Steve answered.
Lastly, as Steve was about to throw open the great doors of the Temple, the guardsman's son hurled his spear at him. Steve grasped the spear and snapped it. Then, as the son charged with his sword, Steve felled him with a single blow.
"Why do I still live? Are gods not vengeful?" He asked, terror in his eyes.
"I am no god. I am man." Steve told him with finality. And Steve looked at the spear and it was healed. Steve gave him his life.
Thus, the first and last human entered the Temple of Ishinge. There sat the old god, atop his throne of obsidian, the source of his power. At the sight of Steve, Ishinge dropped from his plinth and stood before him, tossing his cloak of many furs aside.
"I give you one chance to leave mortal." Ishinge told him.
"I am no mortal. I am man." And Steve drew his sword once more and reshuffled his feet into a fighting stance. He tossed aside his brown cloak and glared at the god.
"So be it." Growled the lord of that realm.
With this statement Ishinge began to grow. His nails turned to claws. His pale skin turned black and grew scales. The hair atop his head receded into the skull. His eyes elongated into great purple slits. From his back sprouted great wings. He stood upon his hind legs and before Steve stood the great dragon.
From his mouth poured purple flame, which Steve just managed to avoid behind a pillar. He pulled from his back an arrow of steel. The string was stretched as far as it could go, and then flew at the dragon's snout. It struck the dragon on the left nostril and burst into flames, coating the dragon's head in fiery liquid. With Ishinge writhing like an eel out of water, Steve pulled the pickaxe from his back, and shattered the obsidian throne into many great shards. The old god shrieked and saw through the flames, he was vulnerable now.
The human drew his bow once more, aiming for his foe's neck, but with a whip of the tail the mighty bow lay in two pieces on the floor. With a breath of flame Steve was hiding behind the shards of the throne. Then in came the guardsman's son, who threw a rock at the dragon. Enraged, Ishinge bathed him in flame, but not before he could throw the Last Man's his spear. Before he could compute what had happened, Ishinge had a spear in his heart.
As Steve approached his fallen enemy, the dying god asked him, "What are you? If not a god, yet not mortal?"
So Steve answered him, "I have told you all you need to know."
And with the Steve stripped him of his power, and left the ashes of the god lying on the ground as Ishinge's Realm began to crumble.
Great gashes appeared in the skies of that world, leading to planes unknown. As the land began to break into thousands of small islands, the lucky ones fell into these rifts, escaping the creation of the empty world, The End.
Steve awoke once more in his world, daylight greeting him with zeal. He rose and looked around. He lay in a great plane, as the skies darkened and the Endlings re-entered the world. Except this time they were not here to make war. They were here to hide. He dismissed their arrival, and left the great pig-lords in their eternal apathy to deal with this crisis of their own making.
The Last Man knew what he must do. For years he journeyed, by land and by sea. Walking the whole way. With the power of the fallen god not even the boldest creatures of the night dared to stand against him. He was alone, and he was sad.
At last he reached his destination, the ends of the world. He stood on a small rowboat, beneath the floating isle of dust, staring into beyond the Veil of Sanity and into The Tempest. His right hand was raised before him, and with a flick of his sword the hand fell into the great fog of the Veil.
He pushed the boat in too, and swam back to shore, his each drop of blood creating fish as he went along. As he walked along the scorched earth of the Isle of Norwich, his blood caused grass the grow and the flowers to spring up. He raised his left hand, and from the ground sprang a throne of spruce. He sat in it, and willed the Earth to make for him a great tower of wood, and it obeyed.
When at last he finished rising, he raised the bloody stump, and sky struck the top of the tree, lighting it up, yet never consuming the leaves, creating an eternal lighthouse. And so the First Divine watched as his people poured forth into the world on boats, naked and confused, and he took them in.
Next major part short be out soon.
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This is a big part, I even wrote a cheap musical number for it. Also, as it was "Lady Tassadar (Rip In Peace)"'s birthday yesterday, happy b-day!
Part 14: THE FIRES OF MOJANG
Account Compiled From Statements By British and Aaron
"So you're telling us the veiled man was lying in wait in that armchair over there, holding a perk and both his crowbar knives?" Brit asked the wounded ABB, who was propped against a wall with a soggy crimson bandage clinging to her hip.
"You sound so sceptical. Of course he did!" She snapped.
The crime scene was a modest one compared to some of those Brit had seen. There were definite signs of a struggle, but it was very concentrated. Four corpses, all clean kills. All were by the door in a similar place to where they seem to have fallen. No effort had been made to clear up the mess, or to even finish the job. They had very much wanted the Gaians to know. The armchair Kay often sat in was piled against the same wall as the door, four holes blown through it, torn deserts of fabric lying down on the floor around the fallen hero. It was as much a victim of the attack as well. Two shots had hit the wall, leaving hollow, imploding black sinkholes in the wallpaper that were surrounded by red splodges, as if the hot lead had been sucked in. The others had found their marks in Abby's waist and one poor guard's head.
The Council was almost in high attendance in the room. There was of course Brit, conversing with the lone witness. To his right was a hunched and deliberating Secret, examining the corpses with his narrow, Precise, hawk-like eyes. Bokane was taking a look at Kay's stash of ointments and potions. Aaron was outside, bow and blade on his back, arguing with the previous inspector. Some old zombie who had tried to have everything removed from the room. Some old codger who had wanted to immediately bury the corpses. Some old fool who wasn't even up to date with investigative techniques from the previous century, let alone the current.
Directly across from the door, the glass shield guarding the old Council of Gaia lay broken, and the councillors crumpled and vulnerable. The table that once stood before it with laurel wreaths like a sacrificial altar, was dented slightly in the centre. The legs had been bent beyond their ability, and the right hand legs had buckled, sending the altar crashing down. crushed offerings lay mashed into the chipped wooden surface. A broken mirror was behind the chair, offering a nightmarishly refracted view of a chaotic night-sky. Throughout it black smoke and grandiose explosions of bright light were multiplied, danger infinitely spread within the shards. Out on the balcony one of the tables was overturned.
Abby had informed Aaron of the information she had received from Atreidon. He had asked her to call Kay down to dinner, so they could discuss this new version of events. Fearing a repeat of the incident with Bokane, she took a few guards with her who had been outside the door. However, when she had requested Kay's presence the veiled man shot her in the hip and killed one of the guards who charged in. The other two shots had injured one guard, and the other two were taken in close quarters. She was unsure of the precise details of the fight, having been hit pretty hard in the head by Kay.
Four rounds had been emptied through an armchair, poking great holes in the fabric, using it as a silencer. Yes! Brit could see it now! The assassin fired through the back of the chair as quickly as possible. However, due to having to reposition the perk each time he was slowed down, failing to kill as many as expected. Kay had been standing before the table, and felled Abby, leaving her unconscious. Yes he saw that happening. Then the veiled man vaulted the chair, toppling it. This was where things started to not add up. If the veiled man used the knives described, he would have ended had to kill them in a dragging motion, but the way the men had fallen suggested that they had been struck by some sort of projectile. Plus, it looked like someone had been dragged to the window rather hurriedly from the collapsed table, and putting up quite a fuss. Abby was definitely withholding information. However, for now her explanation was the best theory to go with. Perhaps one of the guards had wounded Kay, and he had to be dragged out by the veiled man.
Aaron came up to him. "Any ideas?" He asked gravely, worried for his friend.
"My best guess is that Abby is telling up the truth. And her story about Atreidon checks out even with the absence of the letters. Kay has a stash of healing ointments and a recently used wad of bandages. What happens next is a mystery." Brit's voice had a strong sense of finality to it.
"Oh..."
"However," Brit continued, realising his dramatic pause was going on too long. "If I were Kay, and this story is true, I would be trying to find out about those letters, check whether the Old Cow had spilt the beans or not."
"Then that's where we head next." Aaron asked, grim optimism entering his eyes. "Bokane! You are coming with me. We're going to the Mourning Cow."
"Of course Aaron." The mage answered.
"What shall the rest of us do?" Cossack interjected, entering the room and sweeping it with a murderous glance.
Aaron was surprised to have the banker talking to him. None of the other members of "Kay's lot" (he couldn't believe he was already referring to them as that) besides Brit would dare look him in the face, let alone say anything. It was almost as if they believed him to be the bad guy there. Did they? No! This was a mild argument between himself and Kay over how things were being run here before this, and Atreidon was lying to them. He knew it. Now Kay was out there somewhere and Atreidon, Hamish, The Silhouette, Dominus... whoever! They were looking for him and Aaron would get there first.
"I want you to stay here Cossack. You are in charge. Send Key to the banquet. Make sure Void has his protection. Also, send Pi to help hurry the civilians out of here. We can still save them. Even if it means scattering half to the winds in our haste."
"I was asking the General, our second in command. I'm sure you recall at least some part of the line of order here." Cossack snubbed.
That hurt. It was the unspoken rule that he and Cossack were Kay's interchangeable right hand men. Secret was general simply because he was the best leader in the field. Aaron was the long-term planner. He was also the best peace-time leader, being a solid speaker and just a likable guy. Cossack was the economist who kept the place afloat and on occasion took command of the order.
Secret was examining one of the corpses behind Aaron and the detective. He jerked his head up like a dog to a whistle, but with attentiveness replaced with sleepy confusion. "Oh yes. What he said." Secret mumbled as if trying and failing to eat his beard before returning to his assessment.
Secret nodded absentmindedly.
"Well then, I now have a job. It's the exact same one as before but It's a job nonetheless." Cossack oozed. He tipped his purple hat and left with a venomous "Good day gentlemen."
"We'd best be heading if we want to get there before Kay leaves. He's been gone for an hour so we can only hope the Old Cow's slowed him down." Bokane interjected, adding a sense of urgency and strangely enough... Eagerness.
Aaron couldn't help but wonder why Bokane seemed to have such a personal stake in this. Sure Kay had nearly blown a hole in his skull just a few hours prior but it felt like there was something more. He dismissed the idea of this being pent up rage at Kay for sidelining him, viewing it as too similar to the first potential reason. Did he know something he didn't?
"Sure." Aaron said, masking his unease before rushing out of the doors with the mage.
As the pair saddled their steeds and raced off to chase the goose while it was still in view, the Detective scoffed at how easily fooled they had been. He wasn't going to risk blowing the chance for answers on Aaron's lack of subtlety. He was convinced there was something going on with Kay, but he refused to believe that this was happening the way described. He knew where to go next. Then in came Gracey.
"Going somewhere my unpredictable, highly emotive friend?"
Brit walked out into the hall with the skeleton towed along by his authoritative gravity. With a straightening of his pristine tie, and a rather pointless wiping of his face with his handkerchief, he answered him with a grim mumble. "Cover me. I'm heading to visit the lions for some tea and biscuits. I like mine with milk..."
"My Jeb!" Gracey gawped. "You're actually doing it."
"What?"
"USING HUMOUR! INTENTIONALLY!" He shouted triumphantly. "HALLELUJAH! IT MAY JUST BE THE WORST TWO-LINER OF ALL TIME BUT HE DID IT FOLKS! PRAISE THE DIVINES!"
And so the madman ranted and raved, drawing all attention towards him. While those he called comrades laughed or stared concernedly at his antics, the pristine man took his walk. He may as well have gone to the thrones of the Court of Whispers. But desperate times called for unconventional methods. And Brit was occasionally willing to break his routine for them.
Then, as he stood outside the lonely gates of the school, he stopped. He surveyed his surroundings as if it were the last time he'd see them. He then did something he hadn't done in ten years. He pulled from his right hand pocket a birch-wood pipe, the yellowing pale wood glinting sadly in the twilight. He then crumbled some grains of tobacco into his pipe, and reached for his top pocket. He then delicately lifted out the tiny tin lighter and set the granules ablaze. With a movement desperate as it was quick the pipe reached his lips and he inhale some of the smoke, held it a few minutes and then blew out a solitary, ever expanding ring. The detective then gained a new purpose, and marched through the greying ring, dispelling it like a phantom.
Aaron's perspective (Adapted from a Diary Account)
The Mourning Crow was a sad little establishment down on the bottom layer of Underworld, hugging the roof of the bridge as well as being squeezed uncomfortably in between a derelict "warehouse" (now serving as a nightclub) and a house-boat converted into a shoddy baker's. The third in the Old Cow bought in his chain. Business to it was poor, and as a result the bar itself received just as poor attention from its owner.
The roof was missing tiles. The walls were falling apart due to years of erosion on the stone and being soaked on the wood. Wallpaper was peeling. The furniture was useless even as firewood. The building itself was cramped and built on a raft which tipped slightly every time someone moved. Speaking of the raft, it was actually two inches below the surface of the river. As a direct result, water would seep through every hole in every surface when the tide was high, reducing the floor the a swollen minefield of slippery surfaces and rotting wood. Even the rats had begun to abandon the place and the bar only seemed to have one or two regular customers in the entire city.
The building had just the one floor, with a tiled roof with miscoloured and misshapen slates covering at best over half of the total surface area. The once whitened walls were now grey and peeling. The timbers that held it together at the edges were so bloated that the rest of the wall seemed to shy away from them, crumbling into the water as it approached. From the clumsily placed metal chimney at the edge of the roof puffed sporadic and unpredictable swarms of what might have been smoke or bees depending on the season. It was by all commercial meanings a failure, and it could be only assumed that it was kept for sentimental reasons, or because the Old couldn't get a good price for the place.
However, a lesser known fact was that the Mourning Crow was supposed to be like this. It was the centre of the Cow's "providence" to the city above. Here he would meet the unlicensed traders who kept Jeb with perfect hair and Dinner Bone and Grumm rolling in wine. Down in the wine cellar, carved into the wall of the bridge was the Old Cow's personal residence and the offices where he did his business. Few had seen this inner sanctum. It was a pretty well-kept secret. Kay only stumbled onto it's existence by chance, but had never seen it before today. Now two other unexpected guests were about to set foot on forbidden soil.
Bokane and myself ran up the decayed old platform, the Crow approaching rapidly on our left. The baker's was still afloat, just about. They were taking in a new load of flour. Just visible at the very end of the pier stood a small gathering of people. Through the staggering, hunch-over, wretched old workers we saw four men, bound at the feet and hands. Surrounding them were eight of Boatsink's men. It was a standard security job, driving a few men into the river for breaking the law. However, one of them was a man Bokane recognised as Stelf, the bartender from The Old Cow's Tavern. Little known fact was that this man was his accountant as well, but security knew this well enough. Why punish such an integral figure?
Bokane placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered from beneath his new black travelling cloak, "Stelf's being tossed in the river."
Eyes-widening, I turned to my friend and whisper-shouted "WHAT?"
"Well-"
"I know I heard you. Let's head inside and see what is going on.
"But shouldn't we help him?"
"We can do without Boatsink and every bouncer in Underworld gunning for us thank you very much."
"Fine." Grumbled the thaumaturge.
I didn't want to leave anyone to die, it was just impractical to get involved. The people who defy Boatsink... Well his name is pretty relevant.
Boatsink was one of the people who was in charge during the last iteration of Underworld about thirty years prior, and had fought a large turf war with the Inquisition (at the time just a group of religious fanatics instead of Dinner Bone's personal clique). It started with a couple of bar fights, which escalated into street-fights, which escalated into mortal komba- I mean a two-sided guerrilla war. It only got worse when Boatsink got locked up for two years on charges of disturbing the peace. However, the man couldn't be stopped. He organised the war from his cell and left with the intent of ending it.
One of his preferred methods of dealing with officers who came under was to lock them up until he had roughly ten people. He'd then load an old useless boat (or one captured from the Inquisition) to the brim with gunpowder with a ten minute fuse. That was the length of time it took for the boat to pass by the first Inquisition chapter house, Husavren (Divine for "House of Purity"). The goal was to simply prove a point; he was ing untouchable and they should step back before the river turned into a fireworks display.
Eventually the Inquisition did back off; of course after burning Underworld to the ground. Boatsink never got over it. He wanted to go after them but the other members of the Council of Merchants forbade him. Since then he'd been taking out his anger on pimps and slavers down in Underworld, and making sure any Inquisition boat that decided it wanted a prolonged stay in Underworld without a permit found themselves at the bottom of the river. He and the Cow had been on good terms since the Cow first arrived, with Boatsink aiding him in his rise to power. Then it hit me.
"Oh..." I turned to Bokane.
"Yeah." He confirmed.
"Boatsink's after, or has the Cow at this very moment isn't he?"
"Yeah."
"We should do something about this shouldn't we?" I asked, pointing to the Mourning Crow.
"Of course not!" Bokane sarcastically jabbed.
"Well then." I drew my blade and kicked open the door. "Let's go."
The room was as dingy as it had been the last few times they had visited. Except this time tables were overturned, and there were two dead bodies. One was collapsed over a small circular table, at the bottom of a paint-brush like layering of blood. The other was just a single hand pinned by a knife to the counter, as if it was fruitlessly trying to claw its way back up. They needn't even see the rest of it, just the forlorn stillness of the hand, and the pale whiteness of the skin to know he was long dead.
Then there came a heavily accented laughing from the stairs behind the counter. I looked to my comrade, who drew his sword, but kept his wand hidden up his sleeve. If we could we'd avoid wasting Thaumium on street punks. We'd try to talk this out.
So we hopped the counter as quietly as we could, avoiding the most rotten and loose looking floorboards. Then we came to the throat, connecting the head to its heart. At the bottom they could see the river reclaiming the stairs slowly but surely. Through the tunnel they heard jeers of rednecks, angry swearing and the pained grunts of the old slug himself, The Old Cow. We edged down the stairs, sticking to the shadows as much as we could. It wasn't that hard though, the light from downstairs was seemingly snuffed out.
The pair of us emerged into the bluish light coming from the Old Cow's foolish reinforced glass skylight, through which he could watch fish and boats swim past, pondering his business and what few questions he could be bothered with. It was made of glass strong enough to bear the weight of the water, but not much more. The water was of course nearly at their knees, and furniture throughout the room was either floating or was succumbing to its fate, just waiting for the river to swallow it. At the right hand side of the room there was a recently made crack in the bare concrete wall, purposefully made by the looks of it. Aaron reckoned that they had chiselled a hole and planted in some dynamite as a first attempt, trying to drown the Cow as he rested. Boatsink had a vendetta.
In the centre, just beneath the skylight were four figures. Two of them stood upright, clad in a mix of leather and chainmail. Both were youthful and slight, in fact they looked like they were new in town. Their armour was black as night, and plainly made for combat. Yet, unlike their brothers upstairs they weren't armed with lethal weapons. Both were tasked with holding small metal clubs, held in the palm of the hand and concealed and disposed of.
The next figure was the Old Cow, lying in the water. From the look of his limp and bloated form the pair of us couldn't tell whether he had succumbed to drowning or the beating the trio had given him, and one was continuing. That's right, despite the fact that the Old Cow was long dead, Boatsink was still clouting him around the head, swearing at him almost as much as he would at his therapist in prison.
"Traitorous *******!" A crack across the temple. "Swine!" One to the neck. "Think you can just start a brothel behind my back? After all I've done for you?"
He straightened up and stepped backwards, revealing his face to myself and Bokane, still apparently unaware of what was going on. His hair was snow white, standing on ending, and with the texture of dead reeds. His face was consumed by bloodshot eyes the colour of mud, skin etched with the scars of time, and a bushy white cloud of a rug repurposed to be a beard. He was heaving searing breaths of air through his bent nose. Slung around his neck was a bull's horn hollowed out into a trumpet.
The Cow hadn't gone down without a fight evidently. Boat had a miniscule but prominent tear in his skin just above his left eyebrow, which cried blood down the sheer drop of the bridge of his nose. There were also small greenish-blue bruises beginning to form on his neck and jaw.
"Well to hell with you! You dead little bollock!" He turned to us as if having had prior knowledge that we'd be here. "Can I help you?"
"Yes." Bokane piped up. "You can tell us what the meaning of all this is? Is it pre-planned or is everyone just going ape tonight for the hell of it?"
He wretched briefly in a manner that may once have been laughter, before his face receded into it's usual hatred of the world. "I was informed by a man who might just be your boss that this young fella," He lifted the old cow out of the water and patted his bruised cheek, before dumping the slug into the water with a great splash. "Was forming a new brothel. Naturally, considering my recent efforts to stamp out prostitution in the city." He lashed out clumsily at the corpse with his foot, throwing a sheet of water across the room. The water was now up to their thighs. "I was quite peeved. By the way, you are Gaians aren't you? Your boss said I could expect a few people along to check on my progress when he came to my office earlier."
I couldn't believe it. It was all true. Kay had betrayed us just for his little revenge scheme. No! He had killed off the Cow because he was sick of being ignored. This probably was an at least explainable reason. But then again, Kay'd never explained what he'd wanted from him. Oh Notch...
"Yes." I gulped. "We most certainly are."
"Then I thank ye." Slurred he, drunkenness showing.
We turned to leave and rush to the next most likely location, Dominus' mansion. He was out this evening for the Assembled Banquet, attempting to rally support for the final vote on his crusade against Void. However, as he set foot on the first step, his travelling cloak was caught on a piece of furniture, light from upstairs illuminating his Thaumaturge's attire.
Now, when it is said that Thaum's are no problem in Underworld, that does not apply to the Thaumaturges. The thing is, the Thaumaturge's are unfairly associated with their Haram-Ishin brothers from the Court of Whispers. The Haram-Ishin... Well, that's another story altogether but all you need to know is that they are psychotic.
Inevitably Boatsink recoiled and cried, "Haram-Ishin!" before sounding his trumpet with all his lungs could produce.
I would have gutted him where he stood, but Bokane heroically acted first. With a whip-like movement the wand shot into his hand. A further upward slash through a sofa into the skylight, felling one of the youngsters. With a crash like a dying fairy fabric fell upon swords of glass, and water gushed from the wound. The trio were washed away by the descending wave and we fled.
Waiting for us at the top of the stairs were two confused looking mercenaries, who evidently had just come in from disposing of Stelf and the others. At seeing two armed men come up the stairs besides their master they instinctively reached for their weapons. Before either they nor I could do anything, Bokane lashed out with his wand, catapulting the man on the right into the paper-thin walls, sending him crashing through onto the docks. There he rolled over the slimy old pier before crashing into the surface of the river and sinking like a stone.
The second saw his comrade and rushed onwards in a berserk charge. With a twist of his wand the flame of the nearest two candles burst into an inferno before rising up like great serpents. Then, with an equally snake-like movements Bokane told his pets to attack the guard, and so they did, whipping his arms and setting the sleeves ablaze. Screaming he dropped to the floor and rolled as much as he could, as we kicked down the door and ran out onto the platform. Waiting at the other end, and coming straight towards us were the other six, all with murder in mind. Again it was Bokane who acted.
He straightened his wand-arm and raised it out to the black waters with a formal and practiced lightness. Then, he was suddenly fighting to keep his arm up, heaving it up to the sky with supreme effort. With the arm rose a great wall of crystal clear water, some nine foot tall, rising like a great phoenix above any man on the pier. It continued to ascend slowly, drawing awe-struck spectators from the bakery workers, and the mercenaries. They stopped, terrified, gazing at the wall, now a solid twelve feet. I looked to my friend, who looked like he were about to collapse from the effort.
But then, with a crash like thunder, the water consumed the men, sweeping all into the murky depths. All stood in awe of the thaumaturge, myself included. He collapsed, panting like a wolf straight back from the hunt; weary and yet satisfied.
"You okay?" I asked him, perching a vigilant hand upon his shoulder.
"Yeah," He heaved, opening the satchel at his side. "Damn! used four bars of Thaumium there. Only got nine left. Going to have to make some more after this venture is over." He grinned weakly at me.
The thing about Thaumaturge's is that they "break the cycle of normal magic" as Grumm so helpfully put it. The Divines and their administrators themselves, whilst capable of certain miraculous actions, are unable to channel actual "magic". So-called Divine magics are only capable of basic manipulation of the elements. None since "Notch" have possessed the power to do much more without the use of a Well; and this varies from version to version. Any great miraculous action without the use of one was likely the work of Dinner Bone's propaganda crew.
The old magics as they are known, are the hardest to master, and are only controllable by a select few. Normally it is a random gift only held by certain individuals of certain bloodlines, and even then there's no guarantee of the gift travelling from generation to generation. Very few possess this gift, Astro being one of the few left. Supposedly there are quite a few up in the Madrealms, deep within the tempest. However, there was no grand order of those who master these arts, and to be honest it was a bad idea to put two of them in a room together. There only seem to be two main types, those with a God Complex, and those who have an ego problem. Most don't live long enough to master these character flaws, and Astro is the only one I know of.
It's mostly just limited by personal willpower, with the user "burning out" if they go too far. The strongest of this brand of wizard was rumoured to be Ishinge, and that those who currently possess it in some way descend from, or are chosen by the Old God. However, the notion is preposterous, as Notch or Steve slew Ishinge before the rebirth of man - It depends on which version you subscribe to.
Then there's the Thaumaturge's. They possess the powers of the moderators with perhaps a bit more variation. However, they are in general a fair bit weaker, and their power is drawn from Thaumium - a mysterious little metal that somehow does something to make it act like fuel for a magical fire. I don't understand how it works, or how it's made but it's bloody useful, but equally expensive. The True Court, despite banning its use in general, actually use variations of it in many of their devices. It's rumoured that not only are their artillery powered by this mystery variation, but their jail system is powered by some sort of Thaumium reactor. Whatever it is, it's still miles ahead of anything anyone else has produced.
I allowed Bokane a few moments respite until the people's stares turning to scowls and shrieks of "FLUX! COME QUICK!" at this I violently shook him out of his exhausted stupor and he rose quickly. Just as the bottles and the rotten pieces of fruit began to come our way we made our rush for freedom.
Feet pounding on the wooden boardwalks, crowds separating like wild grass as they saw the purple robes of my comrade, we arrived back in the Lower Arcvale. The streets up here were not like those of Underworld. The people here were not sheltered by Boatsink's bravado, or the usefulness of their home to the war effort. They were all gone, hiding wherever they could. In their houses. In the theatres. Under wagons. Just doing anything to survive the night. There were still corpses littering the streets from the earlier attacks, and the shrill cracks of explosions still echoed across the night. The only movements were of patrols of soldiers of the True Court, searching the area for any sign of their foes, or those of the nervous shuffle of local holding a crude and poorly maintained weapon. Every here and there a beggar would straddle their way through the streets, either picking what they could from the dead, or banging on every door they could in a desperate hunt for hospitality.
The sky had turned to night. A velvety black wall miles above us, embellished with a façade of stars and a disinterested crescent moon. Great trails of smoke soared into the sky, attempting to make them safe from the chaos below. Every here and there some bright flash of light would signal to the world that there the fighting was, or to the True Court that there stood their enemy. Lit by the hell-fires of the damned paradise below were the mighty airships that once made the sky so safe, now raining down chaos upon their cherished home.
The mocking smell of sulphur carried from the winds, burning their eyes and nostrils. The ash and smoke lazily drifted around them, unsure and uncaring of where they went. Fire would crackle in the back of the ear, an ever-present whisper of malice. Cries from all around signified different things. Here, the cries of a father mourning. There a damned soul moaning away their final breaths. A child lost, calling the names of their missing parents, not knowing they were already claimed by the night. The groaning of one of the Undead or the hissing of a Strange One, slipped in beneath the net of light we cling to so strictly. The rallying cries of the rebels, shrieking of inevitable immortality, and their rightful claim to Mojhang. The thunderous rumble of airships above.
It was all so much to take in. I suppose it wasn't the worst war I'd seen in terms of body-count or even scale of fighting. But my lord, with betrayal after betrayal hitting me, the deaths of my friends and the seeds of distrust splitting The Kingdom of Gaia, it was all the worse. I couldn't speak. Until Bokane brought me back.
"What do we do now?" Bokane asked like a lost puppy.
The strength of the mage was gone like that. No more was the man who just defeated ten men alone. Now there was just the lonely child he'd met on the long road to the Vanilla Craft. Rage welled up within me. No more would we falter. This ended here.
"We go and we stop this nonsense. I'm going to kill Hamish, Dominus, Atreidon, Falcon, even Kay provided it ends this." Said I in more of a whisper than an audible vow.
And so we turned and ran to face our foes at their heart.
Taken from: Confessions of The Criminal Elite, published by Grumm
Subject: Nek Minnet
Occupation: Mercenary/Contract killer
Crime: Flux uprising of October 1874 P.G.T., Sabotage and infiltration of the citadel
Date of interview: 17th July 1892 P.G.T.
So we entered the building via the front entrance and no one batted an eye. Huskers and the corpsey bloke had taken the armour of two guards and got me a spare set. Didn't like to have my face that exposed, but at the very least I had the shell of someone else. We parted ways at the grand foyer. I went up to the very top, they went down to the Dungeons.
So about twenty minutes later, I stood on top of the roof, holding a satchel full of explosives. It wasn't particularly subtly disguised. If anything, seeing a soldier holding a bag of explosives is a lot more reassuring to most people in a war situation. It didn't do any harm that the main cannons (which conveniently needed more ammunition) were on the same route as the rooftop.
My target was the airship circling the Citadel. Cut that thing down and the entire prison system would go down. Okay, maximum was still run by the creepy faceless things, but most of them would go berserk or become virtually comatose. This was before you lot installed a failsafe or two of course. I set the timer on the main charge. You see, the others were chain reaction based, so you only had to set the one up. I do that, wait for the ship to come around and toss it to one of the dimwits on-board, claiming its just letters. They have to stay up there for two month shifts you see. The idea was to only station the most loyal up there with as little corruption. Sadly just makes them lonely.
It rang true. I turn away, five minutes later the bag goes off with an impressive bang. The airship splits in two (they've brought the bag down to the galley at this point) and goes down. A few minutes later everyone's ting themselves and I go to look for another target I had. But that's another story.
Kay's Perspective
"Why?" Asked the Archangel.
"I don't know what you mean." I responded dully, attempting to brush off another round of questions.
Atreidon slapped me with a cringe-worthy popping noise. "Don't give me this. I know you're the one responsible for this madness!"
"And I know for a fact that you're some mad old widower who has taken his hobby way too serious-" I couldn't finish before he punched me in the stomach.
As I retched and wheezed for breath, being held up only by my bonds he spoke once more. "I didn't come here to hurt anyone Kay, I just want answers." He was attempting to be reasonable now, two-faced eel.
"Don't give me this pathetic attempt to be reasonable. You turn my friends against me through your lies, murder those you don't, betray our confidence and charity, and now you steal me from my chambers. And now you expect me to play the cryptic question game? How about you answer my questions. Why am I here?"
"More importantly, why the hell am I here?" Fabio shrieked from the chair beside me, black hair in a tangled mess.
"Kay, you're here to explain why you orchestrated todays events. Fabio, you amuse me." Atreidon explained.
"So, I'm comic relief?"
"Basically."
"Oh not again!" Fabio said in a voice that sounded like he were in a cheesy 80s sitcom.
"So, you want me to give you a fake confession?" Scoffed I.
This earned me another slap. "Don't play games with me!" Atreidon leant in and shook me. "I have enough evidence against you to put your grandfather in jail. I just want to understand what could lead a man to betray his family."
I was about to start the cycle again when my saviour charged in, or rather, ambled in purposefully and urgently but without a great deal of speed or enthusiasm. His usual emotionless face seemed even more unreadable than ever. His pistol was in hand, but he seemed to be contemplating very blatantly whether or not he should use it. It lay in the palm of his right hand, finger not even on the trigger. His hair was wilted and gravity seemed to weigh on his stout form far more than usual. In his left hand a pipe sat. That was strange indeed, the man claimed to not have smoked since I sent him off into the wastes. But nonetheless, my knight in cream suit was there.
Then much to my annoyance, he took a deep breath, shook his head like a rustling branch and planted the rotator in his pocket. With that he approached a suspicious looking Atreidon. A few steps away, the detective stopped, grinned an admiring grin and stuck out a great meaty limb for the archangel to grip with camaraderie. I made another space on the list of traitors I needed to punish. Right up there with Atreidon and... Aaron.
Aaron... The thought of that treacherous swine brought bile to my throat. When I'm at my lowest he strikes at me with innocent little Abby. The worst part was, I wasn't sure whether he thought I was going mad (which I was certain that the opposite of which was true) or whether he was a power-hungry ape who decided that now was the time to confront the alpha male, at his weakest.
"It's a pleasure to finally speak to you detective. I had a feeling you'd find your way here." Atreidon praised, sitting down on Hamish's desk, brushing aside the moon-grey blossom. At his side was Amicus, handing in it's scabbard quite comfortably. I suppose that reflected how badly everything was going, that even my sword was betraying me. All the time he had his spear held next to him.
"Pleasure Mr A." Brit muffled into his all-consuming moustache. "I had a feeling you would want someone to witness any confessions. I assume I haven't missed much important?
"Of course not, stubborn as a goat. May I offer you a drink?" I seethed at the way they spoke of me as if I wasn't there.
Atreidon reached down behind the counter and pulled out a dusty old bottle of vodka as well as two glasses.
"No thank you, I wouldn't want to intrude on another man's stash of vodka without permission. Assuming it's 'Amish's that is." Came the blunt courtesy of Brit.
"Nonsense! He offered it to us freely. He'll be along soon enough to settle all this!" Atreidon insisted triumphantly.
"Offered it freely you say." The archangel nodded his confirmation. "In that case get that bottle well away from me, and yourself, and anyone you have even the slightest liking for."
Atreidon stared at the paper-wrapped bottle concernedly and put it down on the table beside him. I could swear I heard some sort of noise in the background, a whispering little hum, almost like voices. It held for a split-second, then it was gone into the mists obscurity.
"Now Mr Atreidon, down to business." My former ally asserted. "What's going on here?"
And so Atreidon
"First, what part does Officer Hamish have to do with all this?"
"He's agreed to confess provided he gets to explain things to Kay, and finally "cut loose that dead weight on my back once and for all". Reckons that his chances in the camps in the Farlands are better than his chances with Kay hunting him every few years. Might even escape in a few years."
"I suppose I should feel bad that I'm already praying he get's murdered in a pretty horrible manner before then. Assuming I considered this newfound charity of course." The detective glared. The chances of this being my savior were looking up.
"He's not that bad a man once you've got to know him." Atreidon defended, seeming somehow hurt.
I scoffed. "Hah! That's what all of us thought at first. Energetic, intelligent, ruthless. He might seem a little eccentric at first but, otherwise a pretty nice guy. Provided he needs you for something. He'll be your best friend so long as his plans require it, and he always has a plan." I was shocked at the ragged and jeering nature of what I said. "I should know. I've been lucky enough to escape when he first tried to drop me. Barely left with anything. But I persevered and he tried to kill me again, and I showed him mercy... Gave him to the justice system for judgement. Now I'm paying the price."
He hesitated a moment, pausing to think about what I'd said. His foundations seemed to have been rattled a little. Less sure of what he was in for. I could have sworn I heard those voices again, but it was muffled. Then the traitor spoke.
"I know what I'm in for. No strong friendship or even trust exists between me and Hamish, and I intend to kill him at the first opportunity." He could try to stifle his sudden doubt all he like; the way his voice quivered was undisputable.
"Why haven't we been stormed yet? The guards said I was expected." Brit's brow was entrenched in his forehead, determined not to give ground.
"Hamish's doing. Said we'd have the room to ourselves."
Brit nodded in understanding, and stood up, obviously perturbed by something. Through the silence I could swear I heard those voices again. Except this time accompanied by... a jazz orchestra? Something was off. I honestly would have mentioned it if I wasn't hoping it would somehow work against Atreidon if he didn't know. Besides, Fabio decided to interject.
"But that means there's even less reason for me to be here! I just assumed I was a human shield or something, but now I really am just pointless comic relief!" Fabio shouted, seemingly overacting to anyone meeting him for the first time. "Let me go! -Oh hi Gaians!"
At this point the traitors rushed to my rescue. There was first the spoiled Thaumaturge. The ungrateful mouse wrapped up in a drooping purple trench coat of harshest tyrian. The way he leaned forward as he moved made the loose coat look like a slave struggling to cope under the weight of itself. Covering his snake-like head was a hood of faded royal purple; the coward's crown. From beneath this circlet of shadow peeked a dirty rank of hair. Behind this I could see two hollow black sockets. In his hand was a slender and ever-so-subtly crooked wand, reflecting his own personality. Then, the wand whipped at Atreidon, and the archangel was bowled over by an unseen blade. And with that the traitor was slain, leaving just young Bokane, who I had counted upon so strongly.
Then there was the true deceiver, my wolf-in-dwarven-disguise. His infected-looking cyan eggshell of a coating creaked with every movement, having to be hefted in a way that revealed him to be what he was, a lumbering beast. His short fur of black hair flogged his olive hide, driving him onwards like a mount. In both hands was rooted the great
curved blade, glistening white-hot even in the weak candle-light. Then, as I braced for the great blade to cleave me in two, it freed me from my bonds. And no more was the wolf, the only one who stood there was light-hearted Aaron, who never failed to make me laugh.
I couldn't help but feel uplifted at their sight. I immediately rose and hugged Aaron, uttering my feeble apologies for my distrust, trying to bridge the rift with -wood. Should I really have been surprised when it gave way and I found myself staring down the long road of a blade. There is hung, just between my eyes, a mere inch away. The dwarf growled and began to stomp forward, as I backpedalled. Now I was certain I was hearing voices, and a jazz orchestra, out of their normal context and I was fairly certain I heard my name mentioned. Was I going mad?
"Give me one good reason not to gut you." Aaron rumbled as Bokane brought Atreidon down with an intangible blow to the head, leaving him a groaning moan on the floor.
I was about to start uttering some incoherent ramblings likely involving a set of strange animal noises and a cheap imitation of an explosion (I've never been good at explanations) but thankfully Brit intervened because whatever script he was following deemed this the moment to act, instead of stopping this stand-off five minutes ago at the door.
"Well, one reason is all we need. Hamish set up this little meeting." The detective intervened. Looks like my knight in cream suit was real.
"Okay," Aaron didn't seem to convinced. "A better reason as Hamish's life was in danger."
"The custom made jazz album playing on loop in the background playing purposefully badly sung songs making fun of us."
"I was just about to mention that. I just wasn't sure it was worth bring up." Fabio interjected in an effort to be interesting.
"Stay out of this." Aaron put down. "How come I don't hear it?"
"Coming from the hidden office. I can't make out anything coherent, apart from a few choice slurs and a few key names. I'm fairly certain it'll explain what's going on if what I've gathered about Hamish is true. May be wrong. Remember, I've only spoken to the man once. It could just be a private album he left on by accident but, I say we get in there with absolute urgency."
And so the three of us ran for the concealed door and began to rather dim-wittedly start hitting it with our fists. I really don't know what we expecting it to do after five seconds. Were we expecting it to give up? We even had weapons. Thankfully, Bokane decided to actually do something.
"Step aside." He sighed.
Then, without warning, the armchair Fabio was sitting in hurled itself into the oak surface, shattering the polished wooden surface and tearing away chunks of the door-frame to leave a cartoonishly exaggerated chair-and-Fabio-shaped hole in the door, through which we eagerly slipped.
And there we were met with a cheap-ass musical number thrown in by the writer just because he was bored and evidently decided to copy the Disney formula. It was set to the tune of Oasis' "She's electric" and played by the ******* himself and a swing jazz band.
Kay is good as dead!
He’s in a family that wants to get his head!
He’s done just as I expected!
And he needs more time!
He’s got a new mage,
And they haven’t gotten on in a true age.
He wants to see Kay locked up in a cage,
And Kay needs more time!
And I want him to know
It was a tough decision
And he’s out of time!
And I need him to know
That he got too boring
And he’s out of time!
Cause I was just too bored to keep
Going on and on to see
Just what I thought you would do
Now that Kay is dead! I might just pull through!
Atreidon’s a bit mad
His story really is quite sad
He thinks that the Gaians have gone bad
But Kay needs more time!
Kay had a good friend,
Who hates him more than old Bokane did
He stabbed his boss in the back and left him for dead!
Meet Complex 3
And I want him to know
It was a tough decision
And he’s out of time!
And I need him to know
That he got too boring
And he’s out of time!
I was just too bored to keep
Going on and on to see
Just what I thought you would do
Now that Kay is dead! I might just pull through!
I might just pull through!
I might just pull through!
I might just pull through!
And then, as that ear-rape ended I was struck with the horrible truth. I had been completely and utterly duped at every turn. Even when we had Hamish cornered with those witnesses, it was just a part of his little game. I collapsed into a little chair in the corner, and let my hands take my face. I didn't cry, I just sat there, hoping beyond hope that the darkness of my palms would just consume me then and there. Hell, didn't even need to die. I could just sit there forever, and if death came, death came. If not if not. I didn't have to give a anymore. He couldn't touch me here.
But then he came to rip me out of my brief, silent solace. He always does. He pulled me from the black waters and left me on the deck of the boat, gasping for breath and writhing on the floor. In his smug, yet equally cold voice a tinny monologue came from the record player on his desk, with the low hum of the instrumental player in the background. I jerked my head upwards.
"Hello Kay, special message from the boys of the Family-Realm-Kreatian-Hamish combo." His voice had a light-heartedness that decayed as it went on. This wasn't the Hamish I'd come to know. He was somehow even less restrained. "I know you're probably absolutely riveted to figure out that I've been ing with you. Well guess what, it just gets better. You must be asking yourself how? We've tarnished your name with your friends, only to reveal all AFTER you've made yourself look like a psychopath! We've helped to expose a new enemy to the True Court whilst simultaneously setting it up to fail! We've gotten rid of those dead-weights, the half-breed and the sneak. But alas, this is just leading up to my piece day resistance! I have a special gift for you up in the Library. You know which one I'm talking about. I'll be waiting for you..."
Then the record just went into static before the needle dug into the record, sending up sparks before eventually tearing the vinyl disk in two. And we sat there in seething silence.
"Wow." Fabio broke out. "What an ."
I just sat and glared at the smoking remains of the record, pondering whether I should take the challenge. He was talking about the Library of the True Court undoubtedly. The place where Notch, Grumm, Dinner Bone and now Jeb and Herobrine kept the secrets of man locked away. Every lie we'd been told about our past, every truth locked away, all of these came from the library. From there Steve had been written out, and Notch and the Divines had simply existed and created man on a whim. From there they kept the long forgotten secrets of the True Court's advanced weaponry hidden. From there were controlled the true secrets of the Divines' powers, the locations of every known Well, active, dormant, or in any other condition.
The thing is, it was such an obvious trap it wasn't trying to hide itself. But at the same time I couldn't afford to leave Hamish up there surrounded by every secret the House Persson and its allies had ever kept. I honestly wasn't certain if he intended to take anything, or who he meant to give it to afterwards. The Court of Whispers? This Silhouette? Dominus and Zerg? It was a terrifying prospect. But most troubling of all, he had just openly confessed to murdering Mini and Linx... I couldn't let that stand.
Aaron was the one to break me from my meditation. I looked up at the shadowy figure of the tall, tombstone-like man, somehow a shadow against the dim, dancing flames of the candelabra above. I was sure what to expect from him. Sadness? Anger? Jeering triumph? But no, none of these logical emotions. Instead, he cracked a smile in his stone face, and held Amicus out before me. I took it and grinned my gratitude, patting him on the arm, before embracing him. I did it with the warmly grim conclusion that tonight would be my last, but at least I'd bring Hamish down with me.
"So, shall we take the bait?" Atreidon asked rubbing the back of his head, his sober manner returning.
"Aren't you supposed to be trying to kill us?" Bokane inquired.
"Well obviously I heard the record or you'd already all be dead."
"I wouldn't be so sure, I just licked you pretty well." The thaumaturge jested.
"Don't get used to it."
I pulled myself together, and with a great solemnity said, "I supposed we'd best go and kill this ******* and whatever else he has up his sleeve. Perhaps even get Dom on the way." I chuckled the last part with bitterness, blankly staring into the wall the whole time. Shall we boys?"
There was a grave mumbling of consent, even reciprocated by Fabio. Then we turned and left, leaving the strange little man still firmly fastened to the chair.
"Guys?" He shrieked. "GUYS? OH COMEON! I COULD REALLY BE OF USE! YOU GUYS ARE WORSE THAN OVEY!"
TO BE CONTINUED IN: The Family in the Shadows Part 2
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