Tik – Tim’s Realm – Sanctuary
Chewing idly on a strip of spiced meat, Tik leaned over the thin wooden railing, taking care to keep a firm footing to avoid tumbling over. So far off the ground, it would be a mistake he would likely only make once in his lifetime. The nets hanging below the railing might arrest his fall, but Tik was quite lithe and stood as much of a chance of tumbling through the gaps as being caught by the ropes.
After all, the netting was intended for trade goods, not for catching clumsy Goblins.
All the same, the view made the risks more than worthwhile. Higher up than even the tallest trees, Tik could very nearly see all of Sanctuary. Only the Tyrants Grove was hidden from him, concealed beneath the leaves and branches of impossibly tall trees.
Stepping back from the railing, Tik cast his eyes over the open deck, taking in the handful of other passengers.
Gunter, a Dwergi smith, was firmly planted near the rear. Seemingly obsessed with the rapidly spinning blades trailing behind the boat. Every so often, he would mutter something and gnaw at one of his nails. All the while glowering at the shiny metal like it had stolen his last meal.
Tik had tried speaking with the irate Dwergi earlier and had quickly learned that it was best to leave him be. Tik didn’t know what a coaxial efficiency was, but he could tell from the spittle flying from Gunter’s mouth that it wasn’t good.
The strangely dressed Humans were better company by far. Although they all dressed like females, wearing long silk dresses and sprayed themselves with flowery stink, they had a fine appreciation for shiny stones. An appreciation Tik shared. He even had the good fortune to trade a small green shiny stone for a small bag of milky white shiny stones in exchange. Tik wasn’t sure why they liked the green stone so much, but he would remember it for the next time he saw others of their kind.
The Harpies, roosting on the railings at the front of the boat, liked shiny rocks as well. However, Tik knew better than to approach a flock of Harpies on his own. Without at least a couple of strong helpers to keep the Harpies at arm’s length, they just might snatch the shiny rocks and fly away without giving anything in trade. Tik had seen other Goblins make that mistake before.
Not that Tik blamed the Harpies. They simply weren’t that smart. Barely more than hatchlings, really. Once they spotted something shiny, they just had to have it.
The pair of Serpent-Kin were the opposite, which Tik found just as frustrating. They had almost no interest in his shiny stones at all, seemingly content with quietly watching the sights below. Tik could only assume that shiny skin must mess with their heads somehow, perhaps distracting them from seeing how shiny Tik’s stones were. They had even given Tik a few shiny coins to leave them be. A deal he was more than happy to honour, given their obvious lack of interest.
A sudden rush of heat and the roaring of a savage Beast drew Tik’s attention toward the strange metal oven near the back of the boat.
Taking a calming breath, Tik scowled at the strange oven for several moments before making a point of looking out over the railing again.
As if frightened by the savage roaring of the oven, the boat had begun flying higher into the sky.
“BRACE!” The warning came almost too late, barely affording Tik enough time to snatch at the railing as something impossibly large flew past the boat.
After the cries of alarm had settled down and the deck stopped rocking, Tik searched the sky for the source of their current distress.
Throat suddenly dry and knees weak, Tik’s anger guttered and died.
Dragon.
All scales, teeth and claws, the sight of the massive Beast triggered a host of survival instincts that left Tik momentarily paralysed with indecision. As one part of his brain screamed for him to run, and another insisted that they collapse to the ground and play dead. Stuck between these two prevailing thoughts, it was all Tik could manage to keep control over his bowels and bladder.
With excruciating slowness, the terror eased and Tik regained control over himself once more.
Trembling violently, like a leaf caught in a storm, Tik clutched at the railing to prevent himself from collapsing to the deck.
Unable to let the Dragon out of his sight, Tik followed its flight with intense focus and noticed a small group of riders mounted on its back.
“Yuan-er, what I would give for the opportunity to ride such a mighty creature!” One of the strangely dressed humans joined Tik at the railing and was gazing with a look of intense longing after the Dragon.
“Perhaps my prince could approach his divine father with this request?” One of the strange humans suggested it with certainty, which Tik found both surprising and woefully misplaced.
“Yes, my prince, my cousin is correct,” Another one of the strange humans interjected energetically. “The standing of our great Wu Empire is not yet well known within this Realm, yet who would dare refuse a request from the divine Emperor of our Wu nation?”
The first Human nodded in agreement, his smile broadening considerably. “Then I will send my illustrious father a message! After all, to ride a Celestial Dragon would only add to our Wu family’s prestige!”
“She not say yes…” Tik interjected with a firmness and decisiveness that surprised even himself. His comment immediately drew the attention of the strange Humans. Tik gulped hard, his mouth suddenly quite dry under their collective scrutiny.
The lead Human looked to his second and faintly motioned toward Tik.
The second Human stepped forward. “Esteemed merchant Tik, our familiarity with your customs is somewhat lacking. However, I feel this is a trait we both share at this time. Would you please elaborate upon your assertion? Surely, there is some misunderstanding that has led to your outburst? After all, fifth prince, Wu Hei, is not a small figure, and our Wu Empire is not without a small amount of prestige-”
Tik couldn’t help but scrunch his face in confusion as he struggled to follow the strange Human’s meandering means of speech. “Dragon not care,” he explained bluntly, weakly pointing toward the dragon, which was now circling the Tyrant’s Grove.
A faint trace of anger flitted across the Human’s face but disappeared almost immediately. “Friend Tik, may I ask why this is so? As we have seen, the bearing of passengers is not beneath this Celestial Dragon’s dignity, and surely bearing the fifth prince would not tarnish its prestige-”
“Dhizi not care,” Tik repeated, choosing to call the Dragon by name this time. “Dhizi fly with who Dhizi chooses…”
The first Human stepped forward. “And this esteemed Dhizi, merchant Tik feels she would not choose this one?” He pressed his right hand to his chest to indicate he was referring to himself.
Tik nodded decisively.
The Humans were collectively crestfallen at the news.
“Ummm…” Tik fidgeted nervously, uncertain if he should proceed.
“Is there something friend Tik would like to say?” the third human, a female, asked with a hint of hope in her eyes.
“Dhizi no take…” Tik hedged. “Maybe…Maybe Cooper takes? Maybe Ushu?” He suggested.
The female shared a glance with her companions before returning her attention to Tik. “Friend Tik, we do not know these names…Would you perhaps enlighten us?” With a flourish of her wrist, several shiny stones appeared in her hand, and she offered them to Tik, “We would most appreciate your wisdom on this matter.
Not meaning to be rude, Tik snatched the shiny stones and secreted them away within the hidden pouches scattered across his person. “Cooper Ushu’s daughter. They bigger, Dhizi small. Like metal shinies!” Tik withdrew a particularly valuable coin from his most secret pouch and held it up for the Humans to see. “Humans give many shinies, Dragons fly Humans!” He put the coin away, not wanting to be rude and trick the Humans into thinking he was giving it to them.
The strange Humans shared another look amongst themselves.
“Friend Tik, we appreciate your guidance,” the female withdrew several large shiny stones. Larger even than the ones Tik had traded for on their first meeting. “If friend Tik could assist with the necessary introductions, we would, of course, be most grateful for the assistance!”
Tik grinned widely and graciously snatched the shiny stones, so they wouldn’t tumble off the boat. “This Tik do!” He agreed excitedly, more than happy to receive shinies for almost no effort. Waving for the Humans to follow, Tik crossed over to the other side of the boat and pointed over the railing toward the Human trading district located on the edge of Sanctuary’s boundary. “Talk Asrus-bassadoor! She talk, she help!”
“Does friend Tik perhaps refer to the Asrusian ambassador?” The female asked somewhat uncertainly.
“Asrus-bassadoor!” Tik agreed emphatically. “She talk, others talk, Humans fly Dragons!”
The strange Humans smiled pleasantly, and Tik was given another handful of shinies for his help. Then, without warning, they drew swords seemingly from nowhere and leapt off the boat. However, instead of falling to their deaths, the Humans’ swords pulled them through the air and toward the Human trading district.
Watching the Humans leave, Tik struggled to understand why they were so desperate to be carried around by the Dragons. Especially since they already had the means of flying around on their own, more or less. However, the reassuring weight of his recent gains quickly outweighed Tik’s curiosity, and he was instead increasingly grateful that he had been in the right place to take advantage of the opportunity.
Myra Silverbrook – Tim’s Realm – Sanctuary Trading District.
Although newly assigned to her current post, Myra still found it odd to be sitting on the opposite side of her own desk. Of course, it only made sense that her superior would take the prime position during their meeting, but it didn’t stop a small part of Myra’s subconscious from rankling at the subversion and displacement.
Francis Asrus, Lord Regent and ruler of the Asrus Kingdom in all but name, was engrossed in thoroughly rereading her report for what must have been the tenth time since his arrival as many minutes earlier. Possessed of an intense solemn dignity, the weight of his duties could be felt emanating from his person in unrelenting waves.
Even so, it was the sharp, blue-eyed blonde at his side that gave Myra a greater cause for concern. The Doppelganger in human guise. Wearing the appearance of the Regent’s late wife, and in recent months, his ever-present companion.
The shapeshifter would have been a greater cause for concern if not for the fact that it-she. Myra hastily corrected herself. Aware that ‘She’ was capable of reading minds.
An amused smile and knowing look from the Doppelganger made it clear that Myra’s near slip-up had not gone unnoticed.
As unnerving as the monster was, and she made no attempts to go out of her way to be otherwise, the Doppelganger never concealed her true nature. For the Regent, her current form was part of an elaborate act they were both in on from the beginning. There was no deception or attempts at subversion. If anyone was ever in any doubt regarding her true identity, the Doppelganger would make it her mission to educate them.
If the Lord Regent claimed the throne, the Doppelganger would be officially recognised as royal consort. However, with the Lord Regent’s determined stance to see his nephew remain as the rightful King, the Doppelganger’s official position was far more ambiguous.
In truth, there was no official marriage or ceremony that would publicly bind her to their cause. Which was most vexing, due to the access the Doppelganger provided to the Tyrant’s inner circle. As both a social companion to the Tyrant and a confidant of the Tyrantess, the Doppelganger’s political value was nearly incalculable. Unfortunately, that was also a fact that she made sure officials, such as Myra herself, were never to forget or take lightly.
Were it not for the Lord Regent’s string of daring decisions staving off the annihilation of their people at the hands of their enemies, his current choices, including his choice in companionship, would have seen greater resistance and scrutiny. However, it was difficult to publicly oppose a national hero who had ushered in an age of prosperity and plenty that no one had ever dared dream possible.
While some nobles still rankled at the thought of bowing the knee to a monster, their voices had grown increasingly quiet. Partly because the Oaths prevented those grumblings from taking credible form, but mostly because the more time they spent complaining, the more powerful and better connected their political rivals became.
The writing was on the wall, for all to see. The future lay with working with monsters, together, for prosperity and plenty, for everyone.
The enforcement of the Tyrant’s laws was brutal and unforgiving, but they were nothing if not just. Commoner, nobility and royalty were all bound by the same oaths and faced the same consequences for their actions. A fact that won the Tyrant no small amount of goodwill from even the most ignorant and bigoted of the common folk.
<Utopianism…> A feminine voice scoffed within Myra’s mind, causing her to nearly jump with a start. <So long as the ruler is a good man, it’s fine. But when a bad one takes his place? Well…>
Before Myra could formulate a response, the Lord Regent set down the stack of papers and shifted his attention to the wide jade stone ring resting on a silk cushion within an intricately carved wooden box.
“Am I correct in assuming this is the gift left by the Wu Empire’s ambassador?” The Lord Regent asked calmly.
“Yes, sir,” Myra stood a little straighter and nodded, clasping her hands tightly behind her back to better square her shoulders and appear more presentable.
“It’s some type of magic storage item,” the blonde purred, stroking her delicate hand down the back of the Lord regent’s jacket. “The Tyrant possesses several such items. You won’t be able to open it. Not without a Cultivator’s magic, anyway.”
The Lord Regent nodded pensively. “Am I to understand they were not aware of this particular oversight, ambassador?”
“To the best of my understanding, sir. The Wu Empire’s ambassador seemed nothing if not eager to see everything proceed smoothly. My staff and I detected no ill-will or attempts at sabotaging diplomatic relations.” Given the differences in culture Myra had witnessed first-hand, it was entirely plausible that her opposite had simply been overly excited and made assumptions, or perhaps had not wanted to embarrass Myra or her team.
“That’s entirely possible,” the blonde interjected, interrupting Myra’s train of thought. “From what I have witnessed, and from the Tyrantess’ interactions, they may not have raised the issue of accessibility because it’s a non-starter. Either you can already open it, and they insult you with the implication you can’t. Or, they learn you can’t, and embarrass you by drawing attention to your ‘disability’,” she raised both hands and curled her fore and index fingers twice in rapid succession to accentuate the last point. “Not having access to magic is like being born without legs, at least, it is in their eyes,” she elaborated.
“I see…” The Lord Regent commented, furrowing his brows slightly and placing the ring under greater scrutiny. He made as if to speak but stopped himself at the last moment, shifting his critical gaze toward Myra.
“She’s not on the list,” the blonde commented. “But bearing in mind the contents of the ring and future interactions with the other Cultivator Factions, it would make sense to put her on it. I honestly doubt Tim would object. He’s far more concerned with people volunteering for it, rather than keeping anyone out of it. Just the same as everything else he tries out. Ethics, you know?”
The Lord Regent nodded thoughtfully.
Myra’s position as Ambassador to Sanctuary itself and her proximity to the Tyrant’s seat of power granted her an impressive degree of access and insight regarding the Tyrant’s activities. However, Myra did not understand what the Lord Regent and his companion were referring to.
“Hybridisation,” the blonde stated bluntly with a Cheshire grin on her lips. “Combining their magic and ours…”
“That’s…not possible…” Myra baulked incredulously before quickly collecting herself once more. “Possessing more than one Class, it’s never been done…”
The blonde made as if to speak, but stopped herself.
Instead, the Lord Regent levelled his gaze at Myra. “That is strictly speaking, not true…”
Despite herself, Myra felt her eyes grow wide and her jaw slacken in shock.
“What I am going to tell you is not to leave this room, and cannot be spoken of nor shared with anyone else. Am I understood?!” The Lord Regent demanded firmly, his eyes flashing like cold steel.
Collecting herself, Myra nodded. “Yes, sir! I understand!” Cold sweat trickled down the small of her back, but she resisted the urge to look away.
After a tense few moments, the blond nodded approvingly. “She’s good. We won’t need an Oath. Even without it, her job restricts the people she could attempt to talk to about it, and if Tim’s hunch is correct, it won’t need to be a secret for long anyway.”
The Lord Regent leaned back in his chair and nodded in agreement. “His Majesty’s timetable is rather…brisque…”
“Well, he already knows it CAN be done,” the blond replied glibly with an exaggerated shrug. “Just not if your kind and theirs, can do it.”
“Right, our kind,” the Lord Regent agreed.
“Humans, you mean?” Myra asked, wanting clarification.
“Exactly,” the Lord Regent confirmed. “Several monsters, mostly within his Majesty’s immediate family, have already taken on secondary Classes that were restricted to Cultivators. Furthermore, one individual has also taken on a Class normally only available to us. Proving that there is some degree of compatibility. However-”
“-The Tyrant and his bloodline are special…” Myra interjected, completing the Lord Regent’s thoughts.
“Just so,” the Lord Regent agreed sagely.
“Tim planned on starting the trials within the week,” the blond commented somewhat distractedly. “With all the new Cultivators being processed, he’s been busy responding to challenges, and this is something he wants to oversee personally.”
“If successful, it would increase our fighting capabilities considerably,” the Lord Regent observed candidly. “Every soldier raised to the fighting strength of our most elite cadres…Our elites, to the heights yet unseen.”
“Well…” the blonde wavered her right hand noncommittally. “Yes and no. It’s pretty resource-intensive to get to that level, but the rank and file will certainly get a boost without too much expense, and raising a small handful of super soldiers is pretty doable. I’m pretty sure it’s what Tim intends to do, regardless. Obviously, he’d rather your kind be a part of it all. So people don’t start getting ‘ideas’ about a two-tier system, or develop inferiority complexes over it.”
“A sentiment I believe many will appreciate,” the Lord Regent commented approvingly.
Myra couldn’t help but agree. If the capability of taking on a second Class was restricted to the monsters, it would only be a matter of time before someone would begin fomenting discontent. The gullible and impressionable would inevitably get themselves killed by breaking their Oaths. While not a huge loss on its own, it was possible for them to do a considerable degree of collateral damage before their deaths. Harming innocents even as the Oaths took their own lives.
The blonde smirked and looked away, shaking her head and laughing softly to herself. <That’s not how the Oaths work.> The feminine voice snickered within her mind. <The moment you decide to act. You’re dead.>
Myra resisted the urge to speak her mind.
<So why would the Tyrant care?> The voice asked, giving voice to her thoughts anyway. <Because their deaths are avoidable, and he would much rather be loved than feared. It’s one of Tim’s few weaknesses, a flaw, really. But it’s also what stops him from crossing that line, the one you don’t come back from…>
The hard look in the blonde’s eyes left no doubt regarding whether she had crossed said line herself or the certainty she held for her words.
There was a certain reassurance in the fact that it let Myra know where she stood. The Doppelganger was choosing to be nice, and if given cause, would just as easily choose not to be if needed.
<Why do you think Tim keeps people like me and that Succubus around?> The voice asked, this time with a harder edge to her amused tone. <We do things he can’t stomach to do himself. Things he accepts are necessary, but would find impossible to reconcile if performed with his own hands. Tim can be painfully naive sometimes, but he isn’t stupid. He knows how the world, all worlds, work. You should remember that and make damned sure he is never in a position where he needs to compromise. You’re a part of this now. Don’t disappoint us.>
Myra gulped dryly and tried to centre herself, to make her thoughts her own again. Only to notice something that made her even more unsettled.
The look in the Lord Regent’s eyes…He had been privy to it all…and the grim set to his brow and jaw all but confirmed her new reality.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Myra carefully evaluated her position. After several tense moments of soul searching, she found that her duties had not really changed. The scope had expanded slightly, but the core mission was still the same. Now there were just additional variables that had to be considered.
Gloam – Tim’s Realm – Demi-Plane of Devastation
Calloused hands firmly locked over the earmuffs protecting his ears, and Gloam shuddered with anticipation. Eager eyes squinted excitedly through the layers of grime and filth that caked his protective goggles. Near blind and deaf, Gloam knew from experience that it would make little difference.
Eyes firmly fixed forward, he watched as a massive Beast with bright red fur raced over the crater-pocked field and in his direction. Easily twenty feet at the shoulder, the savage creature was incredibly fast for its size. Tearing up the ground with its thick claws and powerful arms in its eagerness to close for the kill.
During the early days of his posting, Gloam had found this scene beyond terrifying. Experiencing firsthand the pain of being ripped apart and devoured alive. However, many things had changed since then, and those memories were-
<Firing!> The grizzled voice of the chief artificer crashed through Gloam’s mind like an avalanche.
Gloam could feel his anticipation soaring, his hands and knees trembling with increasing intensity.
A deafening roar sounded from somewhere behind him, and the ground shook violently underfoot. Superheated air ripped over his fingers, whipping up a violent dust cloud and bowing Gloam’s back from the pressure.
Resisting the urge to investigate the source of the noise, Gloam straightened his back and forced his focus back onto the Beast.
Mid-leap, the Beast’s momentum was abruptly arrested, causing its body to violently whip back and to the side as a Dwergi-sized hole appeared in its right shoulder.
<Good hit!> A spotter announced over the telepathic link as the Beast continued to tumble ass over heels in the dirt.
<Reload, recalibrate firing trajectory, and fire again!> The chief artificer commanded coldly. <We don’t stop until it is dead!>
Despite himself, Gloam felt his chapped lips crack into a vicious grin. “YES!” He hissed through his teeth, unbothered by the grit that found its way into his mouth. Retribution always felt so satisfying.
<SECOND WAVE APPROACHING! THUNDER-SPEARS! FORWARD!> A familiar voice barked, positively brimming with authority and a quality that compelled obedience.
The command was not directed at Gloam, but served as a warning as dozens of Human soldiers began skidding into the trench on his flanks.
Each human held a thunder-spear tightly with both hands, while staring out over the trench.
Still very early in development, much like everything else, the thunder-spears were an artifice that required and combined several advanced fields of scholarly pursuits to produce. Although they appeared incredibly simple at first glance, the thunder-spears were proving fiendishly difficult to develop.
Reminiscent of an armless crossbow with a hollow tube fixed to the topside of the wooden stock, the interconnecting mechanisms at the base of the tube had required the input and masterful touch of several senior artificers to meet the Tyrant’s demanding specifications. Having borne witness to several dozen failed iterations and the carnage resulting from several more near-successes in live combat tests, Gloam understood why the Tyrant had redirected so many of the Dwergi’s best and brightest away from their own private pursuits.
The thunder-spears were a weapon of truly terrifying power. Capable of turning even the most inexperienced conscripts into a force capable of slaying Beasts dozens of Ranks higher than themselves without even the need for a complimentary Class. Which was good, because as of yet, no Classes had shown more than a partial synergy with the weapon.
The ground beneath Gloam’s feet began to vibrate, drawing his focus back to the present and the imminent danger.
A horde of Beasts was surging across the open field and toward the trench. Despite the medley of Species, as Summoned beings, they were of a singular purpose and ignored inter-Species rivalries that would have otherwise seen them collapse into infighting.
<WEAPONS READY!> A stout human with a thick beard and a Captain’s insignia took a half step out of the trench, sabre in hand, and mouth mutely forming the words as they were telepathically projected to everyone in the vicinity.
The Human soldiers raised their thunder-spears, resting the butt end of the wooden stocks against their shoulders and pointing the far end of the hollow tube toward the approaching Beasts.
Gloam took the opportunity to do the same. To a casual observer, his thunder-spear looked more or less the same as those carried by the Humans. However, his weapon had a couple of minor yet critical differences. A difference that Gloam hoped would be recognised by the senior echelons of the artificers’ guild and pave his way to a greater position of authority and a larger discretionary fund for experimentation.
Several tense moments passed with the stout Human Captain glancing fervently up and down the length of the trench, intensely scanning the faces and state of readiness of his soldiers as the Beasts drew closer. <FIRE!!!> The captain slashed his sabre downward, his teeth bared as he savagely roared the command.
Bright flashes erupted down the length of the trench as the thunder-spears sent finger-nail-sized cones of lead streaking across the open field. Moving faster than the eye could follow, the hail of projectiles was momentarily lost from sight.
The foremost ranks of the oncoming horde tripped, tumbled and collapsed in disorderly heaps. Their lives were cut violently short before they could register what had happened to them. Thick hides and exposed flesh abruptly perforated like fine lace, and the air behind them erupted into a crimson fog that clung to the Beasts coming up behind them.
<RELOAD!!!> The Captain bellowed, compelling a handful of sluggish soldiers back into sync with their cohorts.
The soldiers had been drilled on the new loading method for close to a day before the live test. However, even the most experienced soldiers were struggling to eject the spent metal cartridges and ready their next shot. Hands fumbling as they shook from fear, anticipation, and the sheer bodily mass of the approaching horde, shifting the ground beneath their feet.
Without intending to do so, Gloam subconsciously ran his right hand over the dozen customised shots slotted through the belt hung across his chest. Each was just as thick and twice the length of his thumb. Easily twice the size of the shot being used by the Human soldiers. If the field test went even half as well as the last, twelve shots would not be nearly enough by far. However, it would be sufficient to prove whether his innovation had merits.
Watching the horde draw closer, Gloam felt a protracted and intense sense of doubt. Barely a junior artificer of the first grade, and only through the not-so-significant influence of his uncle, there were legitimate concerns regarding his competency. Concerns his relative youth and bravado could only assuage so far before being forced to face several grim and unsettling truths.
“Shouldn’t be here…” Gloam muttered despondently.
<FIRE!!!> The Human Captain roared, sending another wave of invisible death into the unyielding horde of slavering Beasts.
The latest generation of thunder-spears was already beyond the wildest imaginings of what the most experienced artificers had thought possible. Requiring no Class or Abilities and very little training, they were capable of turning even the weakest Species into a credible threat to be reckoned with.
Another wave of death erupted within the approaching ranks of the horde, winnowing the weakest and leaving the larger and far more dangerous Beasts and other Soulless to take their place only moments later.
Gulping dryly in a futile attempt to wet his throat, Gloam raised his experimental thunder-spear and scanned the horde for a target. Settling his sights on a particularly ferocious Soulless, Gloam took deep, steadying breaths and did his best to stop his hands from shaking.
It was not his first time facing the endless hordes of the Tyrant’s trials. However, facing down the horde of summoned monsters brought on the same primal fear each time. Worse, the memories of being torn apart, crushed, and impaled, all brought on a near insurmountable paralysis of the mind.
Many of Gloam’s colleagues had become so mentally scarred that they could no longer participate in the trials. Relying on secondhand accounts from the Human soldiers. This made improving their designs a far more time-consuming process.
A tall, broad-shouldered Orc stepped out of the trenchline, raising a tattered warbanner as high as his heavily muscled arms would allow.
Up and down the trenches, other Orcs followed, leaving the trenches behind and forming ranks around the Orc carrying the banner. Creating a wall of spiked shields and thick shafted spears.
A former military Slave to the empire, Gloam had witnessed dozens of battles. However, without an explicit Command to guide their actions, the monsters had never demonstrated such discipline and unity. Even amongst their own kind, each of the soulless was out to save its own skin. Forever wary of betrayal and willing to sacrifice an ally if it meant buying themself a few more seconds of life.
A motley assemblage of several SubSpecies, the Orcs were as disciplined as any Human soldiers he had ever seen. While it could easily be attributed to their intense training, there was more to it than that.
A part of which was the dramatic difference in their circumstances. The Tyrant kept no Slaves and suffered no Slavers to live, save those who worked to coopt and break the Enslavements enacted by others. Given a path to citizenship and resettlement, the former Soulless had something worth fighting for beyond immediate self-preservation. A powerful motivation which Gloam understood only too well.
Eyes drawn to the sharp-toothed maw emblazoned upon the Orc’s banner, Gloam felt a calming presence settle upon his mind. He drove out his fears and uncertainty, leaving only a grim determination in their wake.
The world was changing.
The age of oppression and humiliation was crumbling under the Tyrant’s unrelenting will. His determination to create something better. A world where fathers and mothers could watch their children grow in freedom and safety. Where all Species were united under a single creed, equals under the law and free to pursue the destiny of their own choosing.
Spirit burning in his chest, Gloam offered up a silent prayer of gratitude. Renewing his commitment to the cause and the importance of their ongoing experiments.
Spears bristling from their shieldwall, the Orcs braced themselves to face the horde head-on. Sacrificing themselves to both slow the enemy and draw them into a tighter mass.
Up and down the trench line, other formations were doing the same. Abandoning the trenches to maximise the destructive potential of the soldiers that remained.
It was a grim tactic, but the results from previous trials had already demonstrated its effectiveness. Making it a cornerstone of the established battle plan.
Having chosen a target, a horned canine more than twice his own height in the front-most ranks of the horde, Gloam lined up his shot and pulled the trigger.
The thunder-spear bucked in his hands, the stock striking into his shoulder hard and threatening to knock him off his feet.
Staggered but still standing, Gloam felt a thrill of satisfaction as the right side of the canine’s skull exploded in a spray of gore. Killing it almost instantly.
Depressing the latch on the underside of the stock, Gloam exposed the rear opening of the barrel and gingerly removed the spent ammunition casing. Tugging free a fresh casing from his bandolier, he slotted it into the rear of the barrel. Snapping the barrel back into place and double-checking the latch had reset as intended, Gloam raised the thunder-spear again and chose another target.
Shoulder aching from the previous shot, his aim wavered and Gloam was forced to rest the stock onto the edge of the trench for support.
Missing his intended target, Gloam’s shot still appeared to down the Beast directly behind it. Ripping and mangling one of its forelimbs, causing it to trip and tumble to the ground. Where it was trampled to death in short order as the other Beasts continued single-mindedly charging forward.
Attempting to go through the motions of reloading for another shot, Gloam nearly collapsed as pain radiated from his right shoulder. Driven to his knees, he rested his thunder-spear against the wall of the trench and gingerly probed his shoulder with his left hand.
Doing his best to bear with the pain, Gloam felt a swell of disappointment rising in his gut. His shoulder had become dislocated. Doubtless caused by improperly bracing the stock while firing his previous shot.
“Hey! You alright?!” One of the Human soldiers barked while closing the distance between them.
“Shoulder!” Gloam hissed through his teeth, “Is dislocated!”
The Human nodded grimly, setting his thunder-spear aside as he knelt to bring them closer to eye-level. “I can try to pop it back in,” he offered, “But I’m no Surgeon…”
“Do it!” Gloam agreed. Unwilling to abandon the frontlines and have his failure enter the official record.
The Human took a firm hold of Gloam’s arm and collarbone. Not so gently pulling the arm away from Gloam’s body, he gradually began working the arm in a radial motion, guiding it back into the socket.
Throughout, Gloam could only clench his teeth and bear through the pain.
“I think that’s done it,” the Human said somewhat uncertainly. “How do you-“
<Fire!> Another command came through the telepathic link, causing them both to flinch as the thunderous cacophony of shots sounded in response a moment later.
“-you good?” The soldier asked, already reaching for his thunder-spear and preparing to return to his position.
Gloam gingerly reached for his own thunder-spear but came up short as fresh waves of pain radiated from his shoulder. “Damn it all!” He cursed bitterly, reaching for the thunder-spear for a second time but unable to support its weight.
“If you can’t prepare your weapon, you need to retreat to the field hospital!” The Human had noticed his struggles and had continued to linger. “If we hurry, you might make it back for the fourth wave!”
<Elite forces have taken to the field.> The cold voice announced within Gloam’s mind.
The abrupt shift in the Human’s attitude made it clear that he had heard it as well.
<All forces! Fire at will! Prioritise elite targets!> The field commander ordered. The telepathic command carried a grim determination and echo of tense frustration.
“Elites?…” The Human stared out over the top of the trench, his body trembling with fear. “They aren’t meant to show up until the tenth wave…”
Awkwardly climbing up onto the firing ledge, Gloam watched as soldiers released scattered volleys into the advancing horde. Feverishly reloading and firing again, and again, and again, in a desperate attempt to thin the ranks of the Beasts and Soulless as much as possible before the elites revealed themselves.
The Human who had assisted Gloam was no different. Working the lock and bolt mechanism of his standard-issue thunder-spear before selecting a target, firing, and repeating from the beginning again. All the while, he was feverishly narrating his actions in shallow whispers, as if reminding himself what he needed to do.
The smaller siege engines rumbled to life, shaking the ground and sending munitions howling through the air and into the horde. Delivering death seemingly at random, with little rhyme or reason.
The frantic assault had stalled the horde. A carpet of bodies slowed those who sought to take the place of the dead and dying—making them easy targets in turn.
However, the momentum would not last.
The siege engines would begin to fail first. Their components were gradually breaking down with each shot they fired, and their already somewhat lacking precision became increasingly unreliable. Worse still, the possibility of a catastrophic misfire would increase dramatically.
In the unlikely event that the siege engines remained mechanically sound, the crews loading, aiming and firing them would inevitably tire. Even with their absurdly muscular frames, the unrelenting pressure and exertion would eventually create a point of failure.
Gloam had witnessed as much in previous trials. First as an observer and later as a participant.
“FUCK!!” The Human cursed, the thunder-rifle in one hand and a broken piece of the loading mechanism in the other. “Dwergi, can you?-” He made as if to hand Gloam the broken mechanism and weapon, but stopped after laying eyes on Gloam’s custom project.
Following the Human’s gaze, Gloam shrugged off his bandolier and withdrew one of the rounds. “You reload it like this,” ignoring the pain as best as he could manage, Gloam demonstrated the different loading mechanism, but didn’t load the round into the barrel. “Try it,” he offered the thunder-spear and ammunition to the Human.
“It caused a misfire?” The Human asked, going through the loading procedure with deliberate care. His hands were still trembling, but less than they had been only a few minutes before.
“Wasn’t a misfire!” Gloam retorted defensively. “Just more powerful than I could handle…” A matter of semantics, so far as the senior artificers were concerned.
The Human stared at Gloam with a critical eye for several tense moments before coming to a silent decision and taking aim at the foundering Beasts beyond the trenches. “Fuck it,” he muttered and pulled the trigger.
It gave Gloam no small measure of satisfaction to see the Human stagger as he had done.
The Human stared in stunned silence for several long moments, his mouth agape and eyes wide with shock. “Another…” He fumbled with the latch and withdrew the spent casing, “I need another!” The human demanded, his free hand extended and motioning for Gloam to hurry.
Only too happy to oblige, Gloam withdrew another round from his bandolier and pressed it into the Human’s palm. Shrugging off the bandolier outright, he laid it out so the Human could reload independently.
The Human’s grin only widened with each successive shot despite the obvious pain it was causing him. However, unlike Gloam, he appeared much more capable of absorbing the impact without risk of a greater injury.
A fact that Gloam took as a positive sign for the potential merits of his modified designs. Were it not for the first of the Angels cresting the horizon and the vivid reminders of being torn limb from bloody limb during the last trial, he may have allowed himself a few moments to celebrate.
Focus drawn toward the Angel, the Human’s breath caught in his throat, and he took a half step backwards. A pained and fearful look in his eyes. “No…” The Human hissed, clenching his jaw and determinedly stepping forward again. “Never again!” He growled savagely, raising the barrel of the thunder-spear and tracking its progress.
With only five rounds of ammunition remaining, it was unclear if the Human would accomplish anything beyond drawing the Angel’s attention. Even so, Gloam made no attempts at dissuading him. Committed to seeing their impromptu partnership through to the end.
A thought that he had once believed would be impossible.
“Wait until the Angel draws closer!” Gloam insisted. “Make each shot count!”
The Human nodded in agreement, his mouth set in a grimace of fierce determination.
“FORWARD!!!” The Orc carrying the banner hollered, directing the armoured formation to advance toward the approaching Angel.
The Orcs released a unified shout and marched to their almost certain death.
Responding to the obvious provocation, the Angel’s fiery wings of amber light flickered as it adjusted course. Its gleaming armour was nearly blinding as it warped and redirected the light around it.
Three more Angels appeared on the horizon, each racing toward the forward defences with deadly purpose. With a host of Daemons and Devils leading a renewed charge of the Beast and Soulless horde behind them.
No two Daemons were the same. However, no matter what twisted form they assumed, they demonstrated a profound resilience against physical harm. With the strongest of their kind capable of shrugging off direct hits from the smaller siege engines.
A fact Gloam had not appreciated until after participating in the Tyrant’s trials.
The Daemons of Sanctuary were so rarely seen beyond its borders, and their King possessed of such refinement and control, that it had caused many to fail to recognise the danger lurking beneath. Which held doubly true for the Devil Queen.
Each possessed the raw power to face such a host without assistance and with minimal resistance. Existence’s second only to the Tyrant in primaeval might.
A fact that placed the approaching war into alarming clarity within Gloam’s mind.
That the Tyrant could possess such powerful lieutenants, whose very existence all but rendered Gloam and the enlisted soldiers’ ongoing efforts near to complete irrelevance, and still have a need for them…It was deeply unsettling.
The trials had demonstrated their limitations in agonising detail. As Daemons, Angels and Devils tore through their defensive lines with near impunity. Over and over again. Casting aside whatever defence was mounted against them with near effortless ease.
“I HIT IT!” The Human cried excitedly, stiffly waving at the nearest of the Angels.
True enough, the Angel’s gleaming breastplate bore a large indentation and puncture to the left of its sternum. With what looked like thin trails of amber-like ichor trailing from its centre.
The Angel was ignoring the Orcs and had now turned its full attention toward the Human.
“GET DOWN!!!” Gloam roared hoarsely, shoving the Human aside with all the force he could muster and using the momentum to fall into the safety of the trench.
Gloam’s face had barely fallen to the packed earth when a blast of heated air swept over and through the trench. A cold numbness stole sensation from beneath his arse, and the acrid scent of roasted flesh assaulted his nose.
Rolling onto his back, Gloam could only stare in horror at the charred stumps that were all that remained of his upper thighs.
Too shocked to react, Gloam was only vaguely aware of someone pulling at his collar and the earth moving beneath him.
“My legs…” Gloam muttered dryly. “Where are my legs?…”
Another wave of heat washed over his face, vaporising the sweat and leaving his skin cracked and parched.
A host of screams rose in its wake, but sounded so incredibly distant.
The Angel appeared before him, its unnatural perfection marred by the insanity in its eyes, and its wings wreathed in flames of scintillating citrine and amber. “YOU DARE?!” The Angel shrieked, its voice piercing the fog in Gloam’s mind like a finely honed knife and stabbing at his brain.
Liquid flames fell from the Angel’s right hand, forming a seven-tailed whip.
“YOU! WILL! SUFFER!!!” The Angel howled, emphasising each word with a blinding flash and crack of its whip. Each strike instantly incinerated a Human soldier and dispersed their ashes as it moved on to the next in its path. Their armour spattered to the ground in pools of slagged steel.
A dry voice grunted something unintelligible in reply, and the hand on Gloam’s collar fell away.
For a moment, Gloam felt an unexpected pang of outrage. Fearing that the Human, his temporary companion and comrade in arms, had fled. Abandoning him in a desperate bid to preserve his own life. However, even in his current mental state, there was a part of Gloam that registered just how close to death he already was, and that abandoning him was the smart thing to do. That it was the only path forward that provided even the slightest chance at delivering another blow to the enemy before he and their comrades were all wiped out.
Accepting his fate, Gloam scrambled at the packed earth beneath him, desperately trying to gather a fistful of dirt to cast into the Angel’s face. A gambit that stood little chance of succeeding, but might buy the surviving soldiers time to flee and take up a new position.
Seemingly beneath the Angel’s notice, Gloam still had only gathered a pinch of fine ash when a Human soldier leapt over his recumbent form and charged the Angel. Holding the barrel of his thunder-spear and swinging the stock as an improvised club.
The Humans all wore nearly identical armour and uniforms, making them almost impossible to tell apart. However, the thunder-spear was unmistakable.
“No!…” Gloam rasped, his voice little more than a croaking whisper.
Why hadn’t the Human fled? Regrouping with others of his kind and forming a resistance at a more secure position? The bloody fool was a former Imperial. Gloam had recognised as much the moment he had first spoken to him. He and all his kind had brutalised Gloam’s people for generations. Why was he doing this?
Thunder rumbled ominously overhead. The previously empty sky was growing dark with foreboding storm clouds.
The Angel drew back its whip to strike the Human down. Nearly twenty feet of open trench between them all but sealed the Human’s fate.
“DIE!” The Angel snarled, unbridled hatred flashing in its eyes as its whip raced toward its victim.
The amber flames struck the Human’s right side, melting away his armour and incinerating his uniform. However, despite suffering horrific burns, the Human appeared otherwise intact. The momentum of his charge stalled for only a moment as the pain stole the breath from his lungs.
Surging forward, the Human’s muscles bulged, ripping and tearing through his damaged uniform. Swelling and straining beneath his skin as his bones lengthened with each new step he took closer to the Angel.
Surprised by the Human’s miraculous survival and dramatic transformation, the Angel was slow to react. Barely bringing its free arm to bear as the Human’s improvised club came rushing toward its head.
The thunder-spear’s barrel bent, and its stock shattered on impact. But against all expectations, so did the Angel’s arm. Broken ichor-stained bones protruding through its mangled vambrace.
The Angel’s cries of pain and shock were drowned out by the Human’s guttural roar.
Discarding the destroyed weapon, the Human seized the Angel’s injured arm with one hand and wrapped the now sausage-like fingers of his other hand around the Angel’s throat.
Terror and outrage warred behind the Angel’s eyes as its wings narrowed to angular scythe-like blades of blinding light. With the Human unwilling to release his hold, the Angel had no trouble in directing its weaponised appendages against the Human’s near-naked body.
The Human’s skin boiled and blistered, blackening and smouldering as the tips of the Angel’s wings worked their way into his flesh. Their progress was agonisingly slow and torturous to witness. However, the mounting desperation in the Angel’s resistance made it clear that it was not by its own design.
Nearly half again his original size, the Human’s altered form provided a small measure of redundancy. With the engorged muscles and reinforced bones slowing the assault on his vital organs. However, it was only a matter of when, not if, the Angel could turn the tables and kill him.
“FOR THE TYRANT!!!” A half-naked Orc came sprinting over the top of the trench, his armour in tatters, body caked with blood and entrails spilling from his abdomen. Mid-leap and with his one remaining arm, the Orc drove the base of the Tyrant’s banner through the space under the Angel’s raised arm.
A savage victorious smile on his lips, the Orc’s momentum broke the banner’s shaft, leaving at least a foot of the banner’s length inside of the Angel’s chest as the Orc collapsed to the ground.
Dead perhaps before he even hit the ground, the Orc’s body began collapsing into mana particles. Leaving nothing but the ragged remnants of his armour and the broken shaft of the banner behind. But despite the danger, Gloam found it odd that the banner had landed in such a way as to remain upright, rather than lie upon the ground.
The Angel’s wings flickered, shrinking and losing their intensity with each passing second. Likewise, its struggles became increasingly feeble. Barely capable of mustering the strength to paw at the Human’s arm as the life drained from its eyes, and its ichorous blood spilled over the ground.
Paralysing the Angel with a crude jerk of its neck, the Human dropped its twitching form and all but collapsed against the wall of the trench. The blackened hole in the left side of his chest and the trails of smoke accompanying his ragged gasps were a testament to how close the battle had truly been.
Free of his helmet, the Human’s dark black hair spilled over his neck and clung wetly to his brow. Soaked with the sweat that had begun in earnest in the wake of the Angel’s defeat. Pale, even beyond the fairness of his skin, the Human offered Gloam a weak smile. His dark hazel eyes grew dim as each breath grew shallower than the one preceding it.
“We…did…it…” The Human wheezed, turning his head with great effort to look at the dying Angel.
With great effort, Gloam clawed closer and positioned himself against the opposite wall of the trench. The shock had passed, and intense pain from his melted stumps was threatening to overwhelm him. But Gloam bore through it with everything he had, determined to see things through to the end. “We, huff, did, huff,” he agreed breathlessly, grinning like an idiot despite the pain. “An-Angel…” Gloam cackled manically.
The impossibility and absurdity of their accomplishment beggared belief, and he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing. Indulging a Summons sickness delirium in one of the Tyrant’s newly constructed prisons for the insane.
Sensing the end, the animating force supporting his Summoned form was coming to an end. Gloam felt a fresh rush of satisfaction as he watched the Angel disintegrate into nothingness. The broken section of the banner in the dirt serving as the only sign of their desperate struggle.
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