To the last I grapple with thee; From Hell's heart I stab at thee; For hate's sake I spit my...
For Hate's Sake (Exalted)
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- Location
- Portland, OR
- Pronouns
- She/Her
To the last I grapple with thee; From Hell's heart I stab at thee; For hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.
It was a cool spring day when Saoirse Flynn died. She had been assigned patrol duties, and by the time the sun had risen high in the sky she was nearly three quarters of a mile from camp. It was not enough to save her when the bomb fell.
It was a pleasant day, the birds were singing, and for once Saoirse could not hear the sound of distant gunfire ringing through the air. The local warlords had called some sort of temporary truce, likely until they had taken that new mining facility and driven the latest band of interlopers out of their lands. Saoirse didn't know all the details, didn't care. The truce would not last long. There was always fighting. The other warlords, the latest collapsed government, the corporate goons, the foreign 'peacekeepers'. Things never changed in Linowa.
A low roar split the air, and she looked up, catching sight of a jet as it passed far far above her. Saoirse frowned, her freckled face crinkling up in thought. Reconnaissance? She hadn't heard that that last batch of Meruvian peacekeepers had their air support in yet. In fact, she'd thought it wasn't supposed to arrive for another week. She stopped, turned around to follow the plane with her eyes, it flew over the camp, banked, and turned away.
Was that long enough to take a picture? She wasn't sure really. Spy planes were things other people had, never Linowans. Then she spots something, a fleck of black, falling from the sky, dropping toward the camp almost sluggishly, as though it were on a parachute. Saoirse tilted her head to one side, even more confused now. Humanitarian aid? Why here? Nobody ever dropped it for fighters, it always went to civilians… right up until the latest guy with the biggest gun walked in to hijack it anyway.
The fleck fell to earth, a flash of white appeared off in the distance. And then it was red, orange, burnt brown. She felt air begin to rush in the direction of the explosion, like a vacuum, as it grew bigger and bigger. Saoirse turned and began to run, it felt like fighting a hurricane. Worse, it's getting harder and harder to breathe. When the pain begins it feels almost like the ache she got sometimes when holding her breath too long. But it doesn't remain that benign for long. It rips and tears at her chest like some animal has got hold of her lungs and is trying to tear them apart. She falls, she tries to scream, but she can't hear herself. All that comes forth from her torn throat is an endless tide of blood.
And then came the heat. Unable to breathe or scream, Saoirse feebly tried to drag herself away from the expanding fireball. The heat enveloped her, her clothing was on fire, her hair, she could feel her skin melting. She writhed on the ground, praying for death.
And quite suddenly everything froze. It was as though a slide had moved in front of a projector and the film had just stopped. And as the world around her ceased to turn, something approached her. Something like the sun. Only no, it could not be. This was no bright ball of radiance in the heavens. This was the opposite. It was black, it was a hole, a portal to bitter cold and empty nothingness. Saoirse didn't even know how she knew this. She could not see. Her eyes had melted mere seconds ago. But she knew it was a sun, and it was hers.
"My aren't you a pitiful sight," The voice seemed to come from nowhere at all, or perhaps everywhere. It especially seemed to come from the black mockery of the sun.
She could not speak, could not hear, could not see. She felt blood dribbling down charred lips as her mouth moved in some semblance of speech. Please make it stop.
"Oh don't worry," Her sun replied, "You only have a few seconds left anyway. Or a few millenia. It depends on your choice. You have an… opportunity."
The voice was pitiless, it sounded almost amused by her plight. Saoirse couldn't find it in herself to care what the voice wanted, or what the opportunity was. Gods if there's any mercy in the world just let me die.
"Mercy? Don't be a fool." The voice was definitely laughing at her now. "There is no mercy here. Is this how you want to die? Lying in your own filth with your lungs ripped out of your chest? Would you not rather have your revenge on those who did this to you? Break those who hurt you, destroy those who killed you. Come now, doesn't that sound far better than mercy? It doesn't take much. All you need is to want it, all you need is to take me."
Saoirse stopped writhing. It sounded like a good deal. It sounded like a chance to do something for herself, a chance to have control. That alone was enough. One burnt, twisted claw of hand rose and snatched at the sun…
Private Adamson was not pleased with his job. "I fucking hate this fuel-air shit," he said, "Did you see that one stiff with his lungs hangin' out of his mouth? That shit's just wrong man."
His partner, Samuels rolled his eyes at him, "We didn't have to fight 'em, none of us got killed. I call that a win."
"Gods above!" Both men turned toward the shout, walking over to another pair of soldiers. Adamson knew them both, at least in passing. Kerznitsky was staring at something on the ground. His friend, Briscov stumbled away and threw up.
Dragging itself toward them, was some horrific wreck that might have, once upon a time, been human. It's skin was a spiderweb of black and red. Its eyes, hair, ears, and nose were all gone. They could see spots wear something it had been wearing, something rubber, had melted and fused with its skin. And peeking through the mess, here and there, a few patches of pale skin, smeared with char and blood. Somehow that made it worse.
Adamson could feel his own gorge rising and he swallowed bile back down with difficulty. He couldn't even tell if it had been a man or a woman. It was so short, it could have been a small adult, or just a child "We should…" He swallowed again. "We should kill it. I don't know how the hell it's still alive, but nobody should live like that."
Samuels nodded and aimed his rifle. A shot rang out. The thing's head smacked against the ground. Adamson shuddered. "Let's get out of here," He said, "I don't want to look at this shit anymore." Even Samuels seemed shaken, and the four men turned to leave, Briscov still wiping his mouth and spitting.
Just as Adamson took his first step though, the most horrible screams he'd ever heard erupted behind him, along with a sickening noise like the sound of meat being ripped from bone raw. He whirled around just as the thing they had shot dropped Briscov, his throat torn open, and the burnt, dead thing's mouth dripping with blood. Even as he watched, he could swear he saw those patches of pale skin growing.
The three men opened fire almost as one, rifles roaring on automatic. They must have hit it a dozen times. A hundred times. It didn't seem phased for a second. It crossed the distance between them so fast its body seemed to blur. One hand caught Samuels by the face, and despite how small the thing was it kept right on going, dragging the screaming man along with it. Samuels' terrified shrieks were cut off when his head met a tree, in a gush of blood and brain matter. The thing, now at least half human, caught the man's rifle as it fell from his hand.
Adamson watched, stunned, as the dead thing lifted the rifle and pulled the trigger twice. Kerznitsky's knee exploded with a sickening crunch. The second bullet blew the back of his skull out. The thing was inhuman no longer. A young woman stood in front of him, naked but for a few charred scraps of what might have been fatigues once. Her hair was dark red, nearly as red as the blood that smeared her chin and chest. Too much to only be Briscov's. He watched in horror as milky white orbs formed inside empty eye-sockets and rolled down to reveal bright green irises.
The woman walked towards him, slowly, deliberately. He fired, over and over, until his gun clicked empty. He hit her. He saw her jerk back with the impacts. And yet no bullet seemed to leave a mark. "P-please," A sudden rush of warm fluid down the front of his pants, for a moment he thought he was dead already, then he realized he'd only pissed himself. "Please it wasn't my idea! I didn't do anything!"
His back met a tree, and the woman stared, silently, impassively, as she advanced closer and closer. He only realized now that he was at least a foot taller than she, he had to outweigh her by a hundred pounds. And yet, he'd watched her throw Samuels around like he weighed no more than a kitten. Her hand closed around his throat, he could feel shooter's callouses on the fingers of that hand, he closed his eyes and whimpered. When she spoke her voice was soft, melodious almost. "If you had done nothing, the gods would not have sent me to punish you." Adamson heard a dry snap, and then nothing more.
The woman who had once been called Saoirse Flynn stood back as the man's corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud. She looked over her shoulder, from far off she could hear the sounds of men crashing through the underbrush. Her fight had not gone unnoticed. She quickly stripped the dead man of his coat and pants, blood smeared though they were, she needed clothes. Then she turned and ran into the forest. The rest of them could wait until another day. She had time.
It was a cool spring day when Saoirse Flynn died. She had been assigned patrol duties, and by the time the sun had risen high in the sky she was nearly three quarters of a mile from camp. It was not enough to save her when the bomb fell.
It was a pleasant day, the birds were singing, and for once Saoirse could not hear the sound of distant gunfire ringing through the air. The local warlords had called some sort of temporary truce, likely until they had taken that new mining facility and driven the latest band of interlopers out of their lands. Saoirse didn't know all the details, didn't care. The truce would not last long. There was always fighting. The other warlords, the latest collapsed government, the corporate goons, the foreign 'peacekeepers'. Things never changed in Linowa.
A low roar split the air, and she looked up, catching sight of a jet as it passed far far above her. Saoirse frowned, her freckled face crinkling up in thought. Reconnaissance? She hadn't heard that that last batch of Meruvian peacekeepers had their air support in yet. In fact, she'd thought it wasn't supposed to arrive for another week. She stopped, turned around to follow the plane with her eyes, it flew over the camp, banked, and turned away.
Was that long enough to take a picture? She wasn't sure really. Spy planes were things other people had, never Linowans. Then she spots something, a fleck of black, falling from the sky, dropping toward the camp almost sluggishly, as though it were on a parachute. Saoirse tilted her head to one side, even more confused now. Humanitarian aid? Why here? Nobody ever dropped it for fighters, it always went to civilians… right up until the latest guy with the biggest gun walked in to hijack it anyway.
The fleck fell to earth, a flash of white appeared off in the distance. And then it was red, orange, burnt brown. She felt air begin to rush in the direction of the explosion, like a vacuum, as it grew bigger and bigger. Saoirse turned and began to run, it felt like fighting a hurricane. Worse, it's getting harder and harder to breathe. When the pain begins it feels almost like the ache she got sometimes when holding her breath too long. But it doesn't remain that benign for long. It rips and tears at her chest like some animal has got hold of her lungs and is trying to tear them apart. She falls, she tries to scream, but she can't hear herself. All that comes forth from her torn throat is an endless tide of blood.
And then came the heat. Unable to breathe or scream, Saoirse feebly tried to drag herself away from the expanding fireball. The heat enveloped her, her clothing was on fire, her hair, she could feel her skin melting. She writhed on the ground, praying for death.
And quite suddenly everything froze. It was as though a slide had moved in front of a projector and the film had just stopped. And as the world around her ceased to turn, something approached her. Something like the sun. Only no, it could not be. This was no bright ball of radiance in the heavens. This was the opposite. It was black, it was a hole, a portal to bitter cold and empty nothingness. Saoirse didn't even know how she knew this. She could not see. Her eyes had melted mere seconds ago. But she knew it was a sun, and it was hers.
"My aren't you a pitiful sight," The voice seemed to come from nowhere at all, or perhaps everywhere. It especially seemed to come from the black mockery of the sun.
She could not speak, could not hear, could not see. She felt blood dribbling down charred lips as her mouth moved in some semblance of speech. Please make it stop.
"Oh don't worry," Her sun replied, "You only have a few seconds left anyway. Or a few millenia. It depends on your choice. You have an… opportunity."
The voice was pitiless, it sounded almost amused by her plight. Saoirse couldn't find it in herself to care what the voice wanted, or what the opportunity was. Gods if there's any mercy in the world just let me die.
"Mercy? Don't be a fool." The voice was definitely laughing at her now. "There is no mercy here. Is this how you want to die? Lying in your own filth with your lungs ripped out of your chest? Would you not rather have your revenge on those who did this to you? Break those who hurt you, destroy those who killed you. Come now, doesn't that sound far better than mercy? It doesn't take much. All you need is to want it, all you need is to take me."
Saoirse stopped writhing. It sounded like a good deal. It sounded like a chance to do something for herself, a chance to have control. That alone was enough. One burnt, twisted claw of hand rose and snatched at the sun…
Private Adamson was not pleased with his job. "I fucking hate this fuel-air shit," he said, "Did you see that one stiff with his lungs hangin' out of his mouth? That shit's just wrong man."
His partner, Samuels rolled his eyes at him, "We didn't have to fight 'em, none of us got killed. I call that a win."
"Gods above!" Both men turned toward the shout, walking over to another pair of soldiers. Adamson knew them both, at least in passing. Kerznitsky was staring at something on the ground. His friend, Briscov stumbled away and threw up.
Dragging itself toward them, was some horrific wreck that might have, once upon a time, been human. It's skin was a spiderweb of black and red. Its eyes, hair, ears, and nose were all gone. They could see spots wear something it had been wearing, something rubber, had melted and fused with its skin. And peeking through the mess, here and there, a few patches of pale skin, smeared with char and blood. Somehow that made it worse.
Adamson could feel his own gorge rising and he swallowed bile back down with difficulty. He couldn't even tell if it had been a man or a woman. It was so short, it could have been a small adult, or just a child "We should…" He swallowed again. "We should kill it. I don't know how the hell it's still alive, but nobody should live like that."
Samuels nodded and aimed his rifle. A shot rang out. The thing's head smacked against the ground. Adamson shuddered. "Let's get out of here," He said, "I don't want to look at this shit anymore." Even Samuels seemed shaken, and the four men turned to leave, Briscov still wiping his mouth and spitting.
Just as Adamson took his first step though, the most horrible screams he'd ever heard erupted behind him, along with a sickening noise like the sound of meat being ripped from bone raw. He whirled around just as the thing they had shot dropped Briscov, his throat torn open, and the burnt, dead thing's mouth dripping with blood. Even as he watched, he could swear he saw those patches of pale skin growing.
The three men opened fire almost as one, rifles roaring on automatic. They must have hit it a dozen times. A hundred times. It didn't seem phased for a second. It crossed the distance between them so fast its body seemed to blur. One hand caught Samuels by the face, and despite how small the thing was it kept right on going, dragging the screaming man along with it. Samuels' terrified shrieks were cut off when his head met a tree, in a gush of blood and brain matter. The thing, now at least half human, caught the man's rifle as it fell from his hand.
Adamson watched, stunned, as the dead thing lifted the rifle and pulled the trigger twice. Kerznitsky's knee exploded with a sickening crunch. The second bullet blew the back of his skull out. The thing was inhuman no longer. A young woman stood in front of him, naked but for a few charred scraps of what might have been fatigues once. Her hair was dark red, nearly as red as the blood that smeared her chin and chest. Too much to only be Briscov's. He watched in horror as milky white orbs formed inside empty eye-sockets and rolled down to reveal bright green irises.
The woman walked towards him, slowly, deliberately. He fired, over and over, until his gun clicked empty. He hit her. He saw her jerk back with the impacts. And yet no bullet seemed to leave a mark. "P-please," A sudden rush of warm fluid down the front of his pants, for a moment he thought he was dead already, then he realized he'd only pissed himself. "Please it wasn't my idea! I didn't do anything!"
His back met a tree, and the woman stared, silently, impassively, as she advanced closer and closer. He only realized now that he was at least a foot taller than she, he had to outweigh her by a hundred pounds. And yet, he'd watched her throw Samuels around like he weighed no more than a kitten. Her hand closed around his throat, he could feel shooter's callouses on the fingers of that hand, he closed his eyes and whimpered. When she spoke her voice was soft, melodious almost. "If you had done nothing, the gods would not have sent me to punish you." Adamson heard a dry snap, and then nothing more.
The woman who had once been called Saoirse Flynn stood back as the man's corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud. She looked over her shoulder, from far off she could hear the sounds of men crashing through the underbrush. Her fight had not gone unnoticed. She quickly stripped the dead man of his coat and pants, blood smeared though they were, she needed clothes. Then she turned and ran into the forest. The rest of them could wait until another day. She had time.
Last edited:
LupineVolt
Now with 200% more Puns
- Location
- Michigan
Well. That escalated rather quickly. Twice. Thats a lot of escalation. Escalation with exaltation, as was your inspiration, writing this devastation, with some contemplation with your anticipation of spectation from the SV nation.
- Location
- Portland, OR
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Definitely Abyssal. Infernal would involve a lot more green fire and probably more depravity as opposed to just killing the shit out of 4 dudes in brutal fashion.
Finagle007
[Verified Great Old One]
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Not to mention five days in a Chrysalis Grotesque.
Its sorta Confusing whats going on
Finagle007
[Verified Great Old One]
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
A more modern Exalted setting, the protagonist just Exalted as an Abyssal.
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
IF you don't know Exalted:
She basically turned into fleshy, regenerating, Ghost Rider. Also probably evil.
- Location
- Portland, OR
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Well the answer is that technically it didn't develop from Exalted, not the way you're thinking anyway. This setting is taken from the recent 2e book, Shards of the Exalted Dream (which by the way I would recommend to anyone who's a fan of 2e). Shards of the Exalted Dream has one purpose, to give players some other Exalted settings to mess around in.
You've got Gunstar Autocthonia, which is basically, "What if the Exalted couldn't beat the Primordials," crossed with Battlestar Galactica, with Autocthon starring as a world sized Galactica.
You've got Heaven's Reach, which is Exalted IN SPACE. No really, it's a space opera setting.
You've got Burn Legend, which is Exalted as a shonen martial arts show.
And you've got my personal favourite, The Modern Age. The major difference here is that in Modern, the Infernals have won. They rule the world from behind the scenes like some sort of Exalted Iluminati. Wars, genocide, political instability, almost all of these things come back to the Infernals in one way or another. But, they ran into a small problem. Specifically, so many people were dying that shadowlands were popping up and the Underworld was beginning to intrude on the real world. They couldn't stop killing people, because the Yozi wouldn't like that, on the other hand all this Underworld crap was really cramping their style. So they took some captured Solar shards, corrupted them with Underworld essence, and made the Abyssals. Then they sent the Abyssals to the Underworld to rule it, sealed the Underworld off from the real world, and promptly forgot about it.
Now several centuries later, the Abyssals, somewhat annoyed with having been dumped like a no longer useful tool, have broken the seals and returned to Creation. Some are evil, but Modern is really the setting where it's easiest to play Abyssals as heroes. Most of them aren't really evil, but after multiple centuries spent in the Underworld they are now thoroughly confused by a world that doesn't follow the rules they know, and thoroughly hacked off at what a fucking mess Creation is, after all, they spent the last several centuries turning the Underworld into a well oiled machine of a society, now they come back and... Modern Age Creation. It's not nice.
- Location
- Ekaterinburg, Russia
Modern Age SoED differs in several significant ways from the vanilla Exalted.
1) Unconquered Sun and Luna were the creators, and there never were Primordials - only Yozi the invaders. Luna left Unconquered Sun sometime after the act of creation and before the invasion of Yozi.
2) Ignis Divine lost due to betrayal of Solars who also took into them powers of Yozi, and Lunars only arrived in the aftermath (and without finding the Solars, latched onto Infernals).
3) There are no Neverborn. Apparently. It is a good thing. And the reason for Abyssals not being pushed to turn the entirety of Creation in non-existence, Oblivion.
4) There are no immortals and no Elder Exalted. Yes, it means that any opposition is going to be in the same power bracket as a beginner. But they still have resources, experience and Permanent Essence on you.
1) Unconquered Sun and Luna were the creators, and there never were Primordials - only Yozi the invaders. Luna left Unconquered Sun sometime after the act of creation and before the invasion of Yozi.
2) Ignis Divine lost due to betrayal of Solars who also took into them powers of Yozi, and Lunars only arrived in the aftermath (and without finding the Solars, latched onto Infernals).
3) There are no Neverborn. Apparently. It is a good thing. And the reason for Abyssals not being pushed to turn the entirety of Creation in non-existence, Oblivion.
4) There are no immortals and no Elder Exalted. Yes, it means that any opposition is going to be in the same power bracket as a beginner. But they still have resources, experience and Permanent Essence on you.
- Location
- Portland, OR
- Pronouns
- She/Her
One month later.
Good evening Meruvia, and as always to our troops abroad, our thoughts are with you. Two concurrent terrorist attacks in Linowa struck a UES barracks and a mining site with ties to Meruvian corporations. Total casualties are unknown, but feared to be high. At least forty seven Union soldiers and twenty corporate personnel are confirmed dead. A spokeswoman for the Linowan Unification Front, calling herself 'Anchor,' claimed responsibility, and had this to say. "Our attacks on foreign military and economic assets will continue until the occupying forces withdraw and foreign corporations negotiate in good faith." This marks the eighth such attack since the formation of the LUF roughly two weeks ago, including the detonation of a massive car bomb inside the perimeter of Camp Liberty, the deadliest terrorist attack on Meruvian personnel in Linowa in the last decade.
Corporal Annika Fenley switched stations, and some five year old pop hit from the UES began to pump through the speakers. Another news day, another bad day. She never seemed to hear anything good on the radio these days, and she didn't need it ruining one of her few opportunities to get some leave in this hellhole. The dirt road was uneven, and every pothole beneath the wheels of her jeep jolted the entire vehicle so hard she was sure she risked biting her tongue off. In the darkness the surrounding forest loomed, tall dark and ancient. Every tree seemed to lean over the road with menacing intent. It was only twenty miles or so from her station at Camp Oakwood to the nearest town, but in the dark with only her headlights and the moon to light the way, it seemed much further. It made her uncomfortable, but she knew this might be her last chance to go into town for awhile, the LUF had started ambushing soldiers along the roads and even though this one was swept on a regular basis, it was probably only a matter of time before all traffic was restricted.
To Annika's relief she pulled her jeep into the town without incident. It was always 'the town' to her and her fellow soldiers, Linowans might have been able to pronounce the name, but to most every foreigner, it was nothing but a teeth cracking mess of too many consonants and apostrophes. A few other jeeps were sitting in the communal parking lot on the outskirts of town. Or the barren expanse of packed dirt that served as one anyway. One of them was already missing its hubcaps and tires, the rest would likely vanish as well before too long. Annika had learned her lesson quite some back, many Linowans were so poor they would steal a piss can if they thought they could sell it for something. She pulled her jeep past the parking lot and into a grove of trees and shrubs, it would probably be enough, it was mostly the stuff in plain sight that had a tendency to disappear. She slammed the door shut, and didn't bother locking it. If it was found she'd probably find nothing but the frame when she got back anyway.
The bar was dimly lit by yellow light bulbs that had probably been manufactured long before Annika was born. Nearly every surface was wood, only the bar and tabletops were finished. A tube TV on its last legs played a muted rerun of Protect and Serve. Nobody paid it much mind. The sounds of another old pop hit played over the tinny speakers, just barely audible over the sound of a dozen murmured conversations. The place was quieter than usual. Everyone seemed to be throwing uneasy glances over their shoulder now and then, though Annika couldn't quite tell at what or whom.
Annika felt it as soon as she stepped over the threshold though. A sense of uneasiness that had not been there a moment ago. A foreboding almost. A chill crawled up her spine and she shivered convulsively. There was nothing wrong in here that she could see though, not at first glance. Most of the people here seemed like the sort you would expect in a town bar like this. Farmers, shop owners, laborers. Annika stepped up to the bar and ordered a pint, the bartender grinned as he drew a glass of foaming amber liquid for her. Meruvian money was worth a great deal here, and bars that were set up near army camps did great business, particularly for this area. The Linowan economy might be in shambles, but the bartenders, arms dealers, and whores were all making a shit ton of money off the occupation. Much like they had been for the last decade.
It was as Annika turned around that she spotted the source of her consternation, though she was not initially aware of it. A small figure swathed in a rubber haz-op coat sat in the corner, a neat row of empty one liter bottles sitting in front of it, along with a pint glass of honey brown liquor. It was as she drew nearer to the figure that Annika recognized the whiskey bottles for what they were. She raised her eyebrows, whoever it was they ought to be on the ground by now if they'd put away four liters of Linowan whiskey on their own.
"Can I help you?" Annika almost jumped in surprise. The figure had looked up at her approach. The woman beneath the coat was young, perhaps a year or two younger than herself. She was also the most gorgeous Annika had seen in her life, more so than even the famously attractive Terrestrial super soldiers. It was almost unnatural. But most surprising of all, was the fact that her voice was clear, her eyes bright and aware, and her face pale. Not only had four liters of whiskey failed to put her on the floor, she wasn't even slightly drunk. It was only a second after Annika noticed the large black handgun on the woman's hip that she remembered she'd been asked a question.
"Um…" Annika floundered for a moment, struck by an odd sense of awe and unease. "No no, not really," She replied. It was hard not to stare, harder yet not to look like she was staring. Something about the woman seemed to demand attention, or perhaps obeisance. Like she was sitting on a throne instead of the smallest darkest corner of a dingy bar in a backwater village. "Just curious is all. I haven't seen you around here." The silence drew out for a long moment. "I'm Annika," She offered.
Green eyes regarded her cooly from beneath the hood of the heavy coat. A few strands of dark red hair had slipped out as well. The woman shifted position and slowly took a long gulp of her whiskey. Her cheeks didn't even flush. "Huntress," She finally replied, her voice still perfectly clear, melodious almost.
Annika blinked at her. "Huntress? Is that a name or a title?"
"Yes."
Annika took a seat, uninvited, almost frowning, though not quite. That voice was familiar for some reason, but she couldn't quite place it. The woman, Huntress, regarded her with veiled irritation. But Annika didn't even notice, she was too busy trying place that voice. "So uh… where you from?" She asked, in what was probably an obvious bid to buy time.
Huntress gave her a sour look. The look plainly said, 'Who the fuck are you?' But Annika wanted to keep her talking. There was something important about that vague memory… and besides that, hostile or not, she liked the sound of Huntress' voice for some reason. Finally the redhead sighed and took another gulp of whiskey. "I'm from a village called Tarn Fyrc'th, in the northern provinces near the Haltan Zone. You're probably not familiar with it."
Annika shook her head, there were hundreds of tiny villages in Linowa that weren't important enough to be placed on a map. Some of them were transient, there for a few months and then gone like they never existed. People in Linowa tended to move a lot, often it was the only way to survive. "Is it one of those nomadic settlements?"
The unfriendly look continued. Just as Annika was beginning to think maybe she ought to take her leave, Huntress finally spoke again. "No. It was destroyed by Meruvian artillery ten years ago. We were sheltering terrorists. Apparently."
Annika swallowed hard. These southern villages usually weren't too bad aside from the theft. Occupying forces had kept them… relatively stable. There wasn't open war in the streets at least. The unoccupied areas were a trainwreck though, and she'd heard a lot of ugly stories. Annika eyed Huntress' gun again, wondering if it was safe to turn her back on the woman, she certainly had reason to dislike Meruvians. On the other hand… she couldn't sit here forever.
Offering an, "I'm sorry," that sounded lame even to her own ears, Annika quickly excused herself from the table and returned her glass to the bar. To hell with that memory, she would just settle for leaving without taking a bullet. She walked toward the door, trying to look unhurried but moving faster with every step. She opened the door and stepped back out. "Hey," Annika turned back toward the familiar voice to see Huntress' face, now flat and cool again. "Drive safe."
"Thanks," Annika replied, her voice strained. She began walking again as the door clattered shut behind her. She recognized Huntress' voice now, the voice from the radio. Demanding they leave or face more attacks. She leaped into the driver's seat of her -thankfully untouched- jeep and slammed the door. Annika rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment, breathing hard. "Anchor."
Good evening Meruvia, and as always to our troops abroad, our thoughts are with you. Two concurrent terrorist attacks in Linowa struck a UES barracks and a mining site with ties to Meruvian corporations. Total casualties are unknown, but feared to be high. At least forty seven Union soldiers and twenty corporate personnel are confirmed dead. A spokeswoman for the Linowan Unification Front, calling herself 'Anchor,' claimed responsibility, and had this to say. "Our attacks on foreign military and economic assets will continue until the occupying forces withdraw and foreign corporations negotiate in good faith." This marks the eighth such attack since the formation of the LUF roughly two weeks ago, including the detonation of a massive car bomb inside the perimeter of Camp Liberty, the deadliest terrorist attack on Meruvian personnel in Linowa in the last decade.
Corporal Annika Fenley switched stations, and some five year old pop hit from the UES began to pump through the speakers. Another news day, another bad day. She never seemed to hear anything good on the radio these days, and she didn't need it ruining one of her few opportunities to get some leave in this hellhole. The dirt road was uneven, and every pothole beneath the wheels of her jeep jolted the entire vehicle so hard she was sure she risked biting her tongue off. In the darkness the surrounding forest loomed, tall dark and ancient. Every tree seemed to lean over the road with menacing intent. It was only twenty miles or so from her station at Camp Oakwood to the nearest town, but in the dark with only her headlights and the moon to light the way, it seemed much further. It made her uncomfortable, but she knew this might be her last chance to go into town for awhile, the LUF had started ambushing soldiers along the roads and even though this one was swept on a regular basis, it was probably only a matter of time before all traffic was restricted.
To Annika's relief she pulled her jeep into the town without incident. It was always 'the town' to her and her fellow soldiers, Linowans might have been able to pronounce the name, but to most every foreigner, it was nothing but a teeth cracking mess of too many consonants and apostrophes. A few other jeeps were sitting in the communal parking lot on the outskirts of town. Or the barren expanse of packed dirt that served as one anyway. One of them was already missing its hubcaps and tires, the rest would likely vanish as well before too long. Annika had learned her lesson quite some back, many Linowans were so poor they would steal a piss can if they thought they could sell it for something. She pulled her jeep past the parking lot and into a grove of trees and shrubs, it would probably be enough, it was mostly the stuff in plain sight that had a tendency to disappear. She slammed the door shut, and didn't bother locking it. If it was found she'd probably find nothing but the frame when she got back anyway.
The bar was dimly lit by yellow light bulbs that had probably been manufactured long before Annika was born. Nearly every surface was wood, only the bar and tabletops were finished. A tube TV on its last legs played a muted rerun of Protect and Serve. Nobody paid it much mind. The sounds of another old pop hit played over the tinny speakers, just barely audible over the sound of a dozen murmured conversations. The place was quieter than usual. Everyone seemed to be throwing uneasy glances over their shoulder now and then, though Annika couldn't quite tell at what or whom.
Annika felt it as soon as she stepped over the threshold though. A sense of uneasiness that had not been there a moment ago. A foreboding almost. A chill crawled up her spine and she shivered convulsively. There was nothing wrong in here that she could see though, not at first glance. Most of the people here seemed like the sort you would expect in a town bar like this. Farmers, shop owners, laborers. Annika stepped up to the bar and ordered a pint, the bartender grinned as he drew a glass of foaming amber liquid for her. Meruvian money was worth a great deal here, and bars that were set up near army camps did great business, particularly for this area. The Linowan economy might be in shambles, but the bartenders, arms dealers, and whores were all making a shit ton of money off the occupation. Much like they had been for the last decade.
It was as Annika turned around that she spotted the source of her consternation, though she was not initially aware of it. A small figure swathed in a rubber haz-op coat sat in the corner, a neat row of empty one liter bottles sitting in front of it, along with a pint glass of honey brown liquor. It was as she drew nearer to the figure that Annika recognized the whiskey bottles for what they were. She raised her eyebrows, whoever it was they ought to be on the ground by now if they'd put away four liters of Linowan whiskey on their own.
"Can I help you?" Annika almost jumped in surprise. The figure had looked up at her approach. The woman beneath the coat was young, perhaps a year or two younger than herself. She was also the most gorgeous Annika had seen in her life, more so than even the famously attractive Terrestrial super soldiers. It was almost unnatural. But most surprising of all, was the fact that her voice was clear, her eyes bright and aware, and her face pale. Not only had four liters of whiskey failed to put her on the floor, she wasn't even slightly drunk. It was only a second after Annika noticed the large black handgun on the woman's hip that she remembered she'd been asked a question.
"Um…" Annika floundered for a moment, struck by an odd sense of awe and unease. "No no, not really," She replied. It was hard not to stare, harder yet not to look like she was staring. Something about the woman seemed to demand attention, or perhaps obeisance. Like she was sitting on a throne instead of the smallest darkest corner of a dingy bar in a backwater village. "Just curious is all. I haven't seen you around here." The silence drew out for a long moment. "I'm Annika," She offered.
Green eyes regarded her cooly from beneath the hood of the heavy coat. A few strands of dark red hair had slipped out as well. The woman shifted position and slowly took a long gulp of her whiskey. Her cheeks didn't even flush. "Huntress," She finally replied, her voice still perfectly clear, melodious almost.
Annika blinked at her. "Huntress? Is that a name or a title?"
"Yes."
Annika took a seat, uninvited, almost frowning, though not quite. That voice was familiar for some reason, but she couldn't quite place it. The woman, Huntress, regarded her with veiled irritation. But Annika didn't even notice, she was too busy trying place that voice. "So uh… where you from?" She asked, in what was probably an obvious bid to buy time.
Huntress gave her a sour look. The look plainly said, 'Who the fuck are you?' But Annika wanted to keep her talking. There was something important about that vague memory… and besides that, hostile or not, she liked the sound of Huntress' voice for some reason. Finally the redhead sighed and took another gulp of whiskey. "I'm from a village called Tarn Fyrc'th, in the northern provinces near the Haltan Zone. You're probably not familiar with it."
Annika shook her head, there were hundreds of tiny villages in Linowa that weren't important enough to be placed on a map. Some of them were transient, there for a few months and then gone like they never existed. People in Linowa tended to move a lot, often it was the only way to survive. "Is it one of those nomadic settlements?"
The unfriendly look continued. Just as Annika was beginning to think maybe she ought to take her leave, Huntress finally spoke again. "No. It was destroyed by Meruvian artillery ten years ago. We were sheltering terrorists. Apparently."
Annika swallowed hard. These southern villages usually weren't too bad aside from the theft. Occupying forces had kept them… relatively stable. There wasn't open war in the streets at least. The unoccupied areas were a trainwreck though, and she'd heard a lot of ugly stories. Annika eyed Huntress' gun again, wondering if it was safe to turn her back on the woman, she certainly had reason to dislike Meruvians. On the other hand… she couldn't sit here forever.
Offering an, "I'm sorry," that sounded lame even to her own ears, Annika quickly excused herself from the table and returned her glass to the bar. To hell with that memory, she would just settle for leaving without taking a bullet. She walked toward the door, trying to look unhurried but moving faster with every step. She opened the door and stepped back out. "Hey," Annika turned back toward the familiar voice to see Huntress' face, now flat and cool again. "Drive safe."
"Thanks," Annika replied, her voice strained. She began walking again as the door clattered shut behind her. She recognized Huntress' voice now, the voice from the radio. Demanding they leave or face more attacks. She leaped into the driver's seat of her -thankfully untouched- jeep and slammed the door. Annika rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment, breathing hard. "Anchor."
- Location
- Portland, OR
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Huntress is definitely not a senior Abyssal, she only exalted a month ago. And Annika is a regular person.Hmm A Senior Abyssal searching for her junior?
Both images are alright for Abyssals, but I tend to go for more martial and menacing looks.
Vanargand
So tired.....
Yeah gotta pay more attention didn't see the -One month later.-
I wonder how different Abyssals are here- since no resonance or anything and they actually might be somewhat right.. Like yo infernals remember us?!
- Location
- Portland, OR
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Well Abyssals do have resonance in Modern, but it works more like a Solar's limit break. The main difference is that as their resonance goes up it has unsettling effects on the surrounding environment. You'll probably see more on that later.
If you want to know what Huntress tends to look like in full battle garb, take a look at the Whalers from Dishonored and then update that look to something a little more modern.