Glorious Shotgun Princess (ME/Exalted) Thread #2

[GreggHL]

A wreck was found, easily enough. Not one of the ones Kal made, but one a bit more intact. Tightening the the hood around his helmet, he pulls back a thick rope and allows himself a faint grin as a sail drops down over the mast.

A quick leap, and he goes halfway across the deck, pulling at wires and feeling the ship lurch. Instinct guides him more than anything- over to the wheel, hands on it and holding it steady as the desert begins a steady passage around them. Deep breath, and the visor of his helm slides open to let him breathe.

"Impressive." Merela stands next to him, hands folded behind her. "You've handled ships?"

"Not like this one," Kal responds, "Starships. Spaceships." He smirks. "Feels natural, though. Like I belong here."

She perks an eyebrow. "You sail the skydome?"

He shakes his head. "Not like that." A faint smile, a small laugh. "That's what you call the air, right? Well, I go beyond that. Between the stars. All my people do."

A brief flicker of surprise registers on Merela's face. "Odd. Your universe is a strange place, then." She leans against the rail, overlooking the bow and deck of the ship. Leaning on her elbows, she smiles as the red hair blows gently around her. "You go from world to world?"

"Always have." The motions come naturally. Instinct and reflex, some voice deep within telling him how this works. "Don't have a home. Grew up on a ship, and might die on one."

He gently moves the wheel. Listens to the door below him open and the gentle hum of Autochthon hovering over to him. To them. Dunes pass under Kal's skilled guidance. He could do this for days. This is right. This is nature.

"Aliens." Merela rolls the word over her tongue. "I can still be surprised. And you said I looked like someone? A Captain Shepard?"

Kal nods. "A starship captain in my home...home universe." He shakes his head. "Keelah. Feels weird to say it. But she's an ally of mine." He shrugs. "Ended up saving her and him when they rammed Harbinger." He nods his head to Autochthon, who floats over to Merela.

"So." The iris narrows. "Who are, you really? Because I have met Merela. And you are much too tall."

She nods. Leaning, she taps her finger on her lip. Smiles, green eyes over the horizon. "You don't want to ask me that."

"Oh, no, I certainly don't." The iris flashes open. "What did you just do to me?!"

Eyes shine like emeralds in sunlight, and she turns, back against the railing. "Oh, that's the fun part." She loops a finger under the plates, pulling the sphere over. "See, the great Solar Queen weaved this lovely bit of magic into her name. Say it, and you're overcome with admiration and love for her."

She yanks him forward, the eye hovering in her face. "I already admire her. I love her as an example. I've taken her name as a warning to the Yozi of their impending demise." She smiles with teeth shining like polished ivory. "I've had many names. Do not concern yourself with a true one. And do not ask me again."

The eye nods. She releases him, and he quickly retreats below deck as she begins wrapping the scarves around her face. Pausing, she turns to Kal. "Do I still remind you of this Captain Shepard?"

Kal shrugs. "Well, if she could do that, I'm pretty sure she would." A pause, Kal nodding his head side to side. "So, yeah. Yeah, you still remind me of her."

Merela laughs, long and throaty. "Your universe is in excellent hands, then." Turning around to look back over the horizon, she spends the rest of the journey with a contented smile upon her face.

 

[GreggHL]

The fifth day came to a close. Standing at the border, or at least what he thinks is a border, Kal turns back to the traveller as she finishes wrapping the scarves around her head. Wuffles extends his petals, looking around, while Auto hovers next to him with Kamilla gusting around the ball.

"So," Kal says, "You're not coming with us?"

Merela shakes her head. "My place is here. I protect travelers from the dangers, and I have sworn to not leave this desert until I either abandon my quest, or complete it."

The eye floats over to her. "And I may ask what that is." The iris narrows. "I would comment on how you yourself are not powerful enough to kill all my kin, but I have found the Exalted can do things just as impossible. But even still." Electricity sparks behind the plates. "When a Primordial dies, it is...harmful...for the nature of things. Surely you know this."

She nods. "I don't plan on killing all of them," she says, the scarves shifting in time with her smile, "Just one. So, please, Maker. Do me a favor."

She leans in. Green eyes burn like emerald coals. "Tell your most despicable brother, the nemesis and shadow, that I am coming for him." Turning from the god, she begins walking back into the wastes. "Tell him that the Tiger is hunting Dragons!"

A gust of wind blows the sand across their vision. When it settles, she is gone. Shaking his head, Kal tightens the cloak around his encounter suit, turning towards the horizon- the border, though he cannot see anything. Anything but more sand.

"Now?"

"Now we take the final step," Autochthon says, "And we transit to Creation. Where I assure you, things will get much easier."

Kal nods. And together, he and Wuffles take a step. The desert becomes...something more. The gray becomes colors, shifting and merging into a cacophony of light, of sound and motion. The infinite sands stretch out into something beyond infinite- beyond smell, beyond sight, beyond sound, it pulls at Kal beyond the physical.

He was no child when he went on Pilgrimage. He indulged, as any man would when left on his own. He has tasted alcohol, experienced the highs and crashes of the drugs available in his home galaxy. He has experienced intoxication, mind trips, hallucination.

This leaves all that to shame. And just as the pitch of the transition, the complete and utter disassociation of reality reaches a crescendo-

The black sky becomes blue. The sand before him becomes high grass and flat plane, with trees and clouds in the distance, rolling hills marking the horizon of the plain before him. He blinks, seeing a Sun in the sky- something that he realizes is not a sun, but the Sun.

And he sees far past it, the pillar of stone that stabs the skydome before him, past the clouds and mountains, as the name Meru echoes in his ears. It is more than familiar. More than simply the transition of endless desert to natural beauty that pulls at him. It is the realization, the simple memory.

He is home.

"Welcome!" Autochthon booms, "To Creation!"

And Kal promptly falls into a rice paddy.

 

[GreggHL]

Water still dripping from his coat, Kal mutters under his breath. He walks after Autochthon, stalking after him as Wuffles keeps pace and Kamilla lazily gusts next to the golden ball of crazy. The rice paddy has given way to faint rivers filled with fish, to dry grasslands heading towards mountains.

"So where," Kal yells, "Are we going?"

"Oh, we're making a small stop." The eye turns, floating backwards. "We just need to go a little further. I figure we're a few weeks travel north of the Pole of Fire! Which means we should be at my parking estate within five hours by walking!"

Kal yanks his helmet off, just so Autochthon can see Kal's eyes and realize that the quarian has no idea what he just said. Wuffles extends his petals, glancing between the two. "Autochthon," the Geth states, "None of these terms are familiar to any of us save yourself."

The golden sphere coughs, bobbing up and down in an approximation of a patronizing nod. "Ah. Yes! I forget, outside of Kamilla, none of you have been here. Yes!" The iris narrows, closing almost completely as the ball goes silent. Both synthetic and marine wonder if the eccentric has forgotten what he was going to say.

"Well! Once we reach my personal transport- built by myself during my days as a Titan!- we shall take it to Meru, the capital city of the world, and arrange an appointment with the Incarnae to resolve this current situation! Once that is done, we can retire at my personal Manse outside of the Great City, and this will be resolved with haste!"

The scientist-ball turns around, continuing forward. Kal glances over to Wuffles, who simply extends their petals and shrugs. "Anyway!" The ball does not turn to them, but keeps talking. "I am rather glad to be back here. I worked very hard to help build this universe and I am pleased to see that it is still intact!"

Kal rubs his hand over his chin, feeling the five days worth of stubble that has already grown in. He wonders how many of those terms he was supposed to know- and how many of them Autochthon made up on the spot. Hands balled into fists, he trots up next to the ball and the wind gust. "So," he says, "Wait. You made this place?"

The sphere dips up and down. "Myself and my kin. I created many a thing here though given! Many of them were not by my choice because my kin stole and twisted my designs to suit their needs. However!" He turns, hovering sideways and facing Kal. "However I am still quite proud!"

Kal works his jaw, breathing deeply. A faint smirk and he smells things in the air. Scents, flavors. Many of which he hasn't ever known- save for deep, somewhere past his soul. Some of them are familiar. So familiar. "I...think I might be from around here."

The iris shifts. "Perhaps. One of your past incarnations could be from the South." The ball turns back forward. They pass huts on one side; tribes, with wagons surrounding them. Nomads, something in Kal's memory tells him, and he feels his heart tug.

"So." He watches people running past. Watches people moving around. Yells and barking, cheers and song. "So, how long would it take us to just, say, walk to...Meru?"

"Somewhere around eight months." Kal skids to a stop. Autochthon lazily floats over, shrugging. "Do understand, Creation is quite large!"

Something picks up in the wind. His bare ear, pressed flat against his skull twitches. Running a hand through the thick dreadlocks hanging down to his shoulders, he narrows eyes. "Well, there's also an ocean in the way," Autochthon continues, ignored by Reegar.

The shouts and cheers have become screams. The songs and yells have become screams. Turning from the sphere as it continues prattling directions, Kal'Reegar takes off in a run towards the distant thatch huts and wagons.

Dirt kicks up behind him. Eyes narrow and he hears his own thumping heart. The cloak flutters behind him, and Kal'Reegar's eyes go wide with recognition as he hears the roar that splits the air like a thundercrack. A word, unbidden, comes to his lips. "Tyrant Lizard."

 

[GreggHL]

Three toed claws tear holes into the ground, sending clouds of dust up with every thundering foot step. The massive tail hovers behind it; balanced, huge, two diminutive arms hang from the creature's massive chest. The bright red snout glistens with blood as it opens its mouth to reveal a jaw of razor sharp teeth, each the size of a man's arm.

The leather straps around its jaw and neck tighten. Roaring, the creature charges. The village before it is simple, fragile. Thatch houses held together by hemp and cord. Tents of hide and wooden planks. Wagons surrounding it, as a border and an escape route.

Smaller mounts run alongside the Tyrant Lizard, their shrieks and honks in time with the roar. Running on two legs, the size of a horse, white and brown feathers bristling in the sun. Raiders in white cloaks and white masks, they run alongside the giant beast, yelling in time with the cries of the animals.

The villagers- the nomads, work in frenzy. Gathering what they can upon wagons. Grabbing children, supplies, even as the raiding party crosses the horizon, charging directly at them. Arrows loosed from the village deflect off armor, deflect off wooden shields. Atop the Tyrant Lizard, a man in white rides standing and points a sword towards the village with a roar.

And then something impacts, a red blur blasting the ground into a haze of dirt. A thundercrack that makes the Claw Striders shriek and buck.

"Wuffles? You in position?"

He cranes his neck, the orange light of his omnitool crackling as it cools down. Palming his fist, he squeezes and listens to the knuckles crack. Bracing one foot behind him, he opens one hand, letting his right close into a fist. The dust parts and the Tyrant Lizard charges through. Closer and closer it comes to Kal, roaring with a mouth full of dust.

"Now."

And then the side of the beast's head explodes. Mid step it lurches. A final lunge and it pitches forward head first into the dirt. Dust and rock are thrown up into the air as momentum drags, flipping it end over end.

And finally coming to a stop in front of Kal. He waits, and hears the crackle of static in his ear, followed by,

"Target neutralized."

"Thank you. And thank Auto for me for storing a copy of your rifle."

Kal takes careful steps forward, towards the cooling corpse of the giant. Looks like something out of the Marine training on alien fauna. Like something you'd find on Tuchanka in the more radioactive parts. But he swore he saw someone riding it, before Wuffles took it out.

The answer comes in a burst of flame, igniting his cloak. Swearing, Kal unclasps it, tossing it aside as it burns, and turns just as a man in white lands in a crouch on the beast. Tall. White cloak, a white breastplate, white mask and hood covering everything save red eyes. He stands, holding sword in one hand and sheathe in the other.

"I liked that mount," he says.

He leaps off, flipping and landing in a crouch. Rising, he extends the sword- a long, thin metal blade longer than his arm- at Kal. Flame wraps around it, swirling like twin serpents to the tip of the sword.

"Ah great." Kal mutters under his breath, clenching his fists and activating his knuckledusters, "Middle of nowhere and I run into someone with fancy powers."

The man stabs the scabbard into the ground, and tosses off his hood and mask. And in that moment, Kal receives the latest in his line of surprises for that day. Dark blonde hair, red eyes...and tanned, pinkish skin, a nose which is not flat, ears not pressed against the sides of his skull, features matching up to

"Humans," Kal whispers, "You're human."

"I'm no mortal," the man growls, voice like the crackling of kindling, "Whatever you are, I am Fen Sky Splitter. Chosen of the Dragon of Fire." A roar, and he leaps, trailing fire from his sword as he flies towards Kal. "And whatever you are is dead!"

 

[GreggHL]

"So...so what the Hell is he?" Purple eyes narrow.

"Ronin, obviously. Hm. So." Fingers tap on leather. "What do we do? Tell the old man?"

A cough. "If he heard we called him that he would-"

"Appear right behind you and point out that he has better things to do?"

Two yelps in surprise. A cough, and the sound of metal tapping on rock. "What is this? Who is that?" Purple eyes narrow. "Journeys, but...hmph. Well?"

Fingers quickly tap on leather. "Well, he's definitely outside Fate. His companion is, too, the one that killed the Tyrant Lizard. And...ahem...well."

"Show me." It is shown. "Oh son of a bitch." A grunt. "Deal with it."

Two long held, now released breaths. "Okay. What are we going to do?"

A tap. A small chuckle. "Do this."




The blade passes through Kal's neck. But it does not kill. It hits air, instead, and Sky Splitter carries on momentum through the place where his enemy was. A swear and he turns, kicking up dirt spinning the sword in one hand.
A shot rings out, and Sky Splitter swings. The ground in front of him explodes, a cloud of dust and dirt obscuring all by the flaming sword as he steps through.

Yelling, he leaps again, Kal ducking and rolling under him. Pushing off his hands, the marine lands in a crouch. And the sun flares, the air splits, and a fine longsword embeds itself in the ground in front of him. Wrapping a three fingered hand around the hilt, he pulls it out, giving it a practice swing and bringing it up to catch the fiery steel.

How the Hell am I doing this, Kal asks himself. A flash of light and he has the hilt in both hands. Instinct locks the blade against his, his face calm as he sees the ever heightening anger on the Dragonblooded's face.

A deep breath. Eyes narrow and Kal feels it flow through him. He deflects the sword to the side, jumping back. Swings down and drives the enemy's blade into the ground. It becomes reflex. It becomes thoughtless. It makes him focus; but not on the yelling opponent. On what is around and in front and beyond him.

Like the strings of a lute, fluctuating with every step. Like a spider's web of possibility and fate. Like a marionette, connecting that sword of his enemy, and him. With a single flick of the wrist, Kal cuts through the air, not at his foe. But as Sky Splitter closes the distance and swings, the sword strikes-

But buries itself in the ground in front of Kal. The words ring like bells. Impeding the Flow. He remembers them. Internalizes them. Meets the eyes of this foe. He sees all the possibilities before him of what may happen, what will happen, and what must happen. He sees every attack he can make. He sees every choice he can make. He sees every option.

And because he can, he takes all of them.

There is a flash of steel. The sword drops to the ground, along with the hand holding it. The blade bursts from the back, spraying blood along the dirt and mud. The head drops to the ground, and the body soon follows.
Kal gives no heed to the raiders as they retreat, following the grisly death of their commander.

A flash of yellow and green, and Kal steps back as a scabbard impacts the ground in front of him. Picking it up, he turns to the direction it came from, and sees something- someone. A black hood and mask, revealing only purple eyes. "Wait!" But either not hearing Kal- or spurred on by his yell, the man is gone.

Sliding the blade along the scabbard to clean off the blood, he thrusts it into its sheathe. Turning, he watches as the wagons retreat- an empty field where a village was, the time he bought them not wasted.

"Creator Kal'Reegar. We apologize for not offering further assistance." Kal turns as Wuffles approaches, folded up rifle on their back. "After the commander deflected our shot, we could not risk a deflection hitting you."

Kal nods, reaching out and squeezing the Geth's shoulder. It feels as hard to the touch as the real thing. But files that away for later. "We alone?"

A gust is his answer, holding up the decapitated body. Kamilla shakes the corpse, then disappears into the distance, before coming back for the head.

"Right." Kal rubs the bridge of his nose. "Let's get going. Maybe find, I dunno. We're in a big fantasy magic...thing world. There should be a tavern around here somewhere."

Wuffles extends his petals. "We are unsure. If the inhabitants of this world are human, how will you able to find nutrition?"

Kal shrugs. "Fucking magic, as it damn well should be." He begins walking, picking up his burnt cloak and shrugging it over his shoulders. Wuffles follows, stowing his rifle.

 

[GreggHL]

Black pitch dribbles onto the stone and brass floor. The woman, clad in white, eyes black and a third unfolded upon her brow, watches through the mists and brass well laid before her. Smiling, yellow teeth bared, she claps her hands with a girlish giggle of pure, undiluted glee.

"Oh my," she purrs, voice not hers, "He doesn't even know about the Usurpation! This is delicious!" Reaching into the bowl, the Voice of the Yozi shoves another handful of popcorn and chews with an open mouth.

A cough, deep and throaty. She looks up, and smiles with large yellow teeth. Sashaying over, past the well and over stone and brass tiles, as the skylight shines down with viridian rays, she sways her hips over to the sole other occupant of the private chambers.

Tall, gray hair already shifted back to brown, clad in a striped, double breasted suit. He closes his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his benefactor puts on the show, not even reacting as the being possessing her makes her wrap her arms around his neck.

"Jaaaack," she purrs, rolling the name on her tongue, "I think I-"

He opens his eyes. Green flame folds out into an eye and burning fire on his forehead. "I said," he says through gritted teeth, "Not through the puppet."

The pitch flows back into her eyes. The eye on her forehead closes. Blinking, she collapses against him as he catches her. Helping her stand, he is rewarded with a faint smile right before the sun goes out.

"He gets upset when people do that," she says, shaking her head.

The man shrugs, pulling out a cigarette. "Well." Lighting it, he lets it float up to his mouth. "He also knows that unlike him, I have standards."

The chambers- the entire structure- shakes. Two massive hands composed of living shadow wrap around both full wall windows on either side, lifting it off its moorings and into the sky as the girl screams. The shadows shift. Retract, but do not retreat. The girl holds onto him as he offers a hand, and the chambers are flooded with yellow light as the single eye opens.

Jack. Why do you always interrupt my fun?

He rolls his eyes. "Because unlike you, I have a real job?" Jack Harper stares at the slitted yellow eye of his employee, his benefactor. He does not react to the high pitched, tectonic giggle.

Oh, like always. We need to find you someone to settle down with. The eye shifts, it's focus going to Jack to the other. Lilun, dear. Give us some time alone.

The girl bows, and hurries out. The black pupil of the cat eye watches her retreat, past the well and out the door. Footsteps stop. Both know she is standing just outside. Mainly because the stairs now lead to nothing.

"What do you want?" the Illusive Man asks.

Another high pitched, stone shaking giggle. The grating sound fills the air. Jack steps back as the long silver talon pierces the ceiling, repeatedly. The Dragon, tapping its finger.

Hm. What do I want? I want my face imprinted upon the skulls of newborn children so I am the first and thing thing they ever see. I want mm I want to be at the center of your galaxy, so that I may define your hopeless and chaotic reality. I want redheads delivered to me hourly, and yes this includes my sister, though while we are not related and it is not incest, I tell myself that anyway to get myself aroused.

The eyes focuses on Jack. Fills the room with baleful yellow light.

Oh, yes. But you mean What do I want now? I want you to put on the big boy pants and get some sand proofed boots, Jack. You're going to Creation.

 

[GreggHL]

Hours stretched, leading the quarian, the pile of gods, and the body dragging wind out of the grasslands. They pass the first trees as the moon lazily drags across the sky. Of course, that small part of Kal which remembers this place somehow knows it's not a moon. It is, in fact, a battle station.

He rolls that over his tongue. Shaking his head, he looks around. Lets his senses expand, ever so slightly. A hand runs over the bark of a large tree. He feels it- through his suit. Like cords of string wrapped around old bark that speaks to him.

"Creator Kal'Reegar?"

Kal nods with a faint, knowing smirk. "I can...I dunno." A faint, small chuckle. "I think I can sense something. The Loom."

The petals extend. "Creator Kal'Reegar, we were unaware that you have taken up the hobby of knitting. We will file this with relevant data."

Kal turns to the Geth. Opening his mouth to clarify, he nonetheless is interrupted by,

"That was a joke." Wuffles flattens their petals. Kal stares at him, hand dropping to his side. "EDI has educated us in unexpected humor. We find it is an effective way to dismiss tension."

Reegar rolls his eyes and continues on. They walk through the forest, through bushes and vines. Glancing from side to side as they continue on, Wuffles makes quick, sharp sounds. Notices vines moving in response. "Fascinating. Our status apparently gives us the ability to communicate with nature."

"Not surprised." Folding the cloak around him, Kal takes the point. Perk his ears and hears movement. "Crap. Wuffles, we're not alone."

The rifle extends. "Acknowledged." Kal flattens against a tree, as Wuffles climbs up one in two hops. Going flat against a branch, the Geth presses its iris against the scope on the top of the anti-material rifle, scanning from side to side.

"Switching to infrared. Located. We are not alone. Locating...encampment found." Petals extend. "We are five hundred meters from an encampment. Multiple heat signatures."

Nodding, Kal darts. Tree to tree, he moves in quick leaps, seconds between each motion. He hears the faint rustling above of Wuffles following. Sees the fires in the distance; the first signs of the roofs. Through gaps in the foliage, he sees buildings- an encampment, but the buildings don't look like tents or huts.

He sees angular, short houses with peaked roofs. He sees a circular formation of them around a dome with a spire of some sort of metal jutting out of the center. He sees walls; emplacements. Stone towers at the four corners of the fort. Which it is, he tells himself. Not an encampment.

It's a forward base. And he can't help but notice how the buildings are all bright red. He notices the architecture; tiled roofs coming to sloped peaks. And dragons.

And then he notices the spear pointed at the back of his neck.

"Crap."

Hands on the back of his head, he's lead through the gates, past the walls. He smells the cooking meat over the fires in front of the houses. Hears the clicking from Wuffles as they are lead in side by side. Surrounding them are...quite a few people. All in armor; red, blue, green, multiple colors. All the same style.

He remembers seeing some old human movies on his Pilgrimage. Comes back to him. Samurai. They're armored up like Samurai. Walked through the camp, the Geth and the Sidereal are lead to the dome, as it opens, and someone walks out. Tall, armor different- more advanced, more form fitting.

The light is not good- but they can make out the features. Very familiar features.

"Shepard Commander!" All four petals extend. The iris opens fully.

Kal blinks, mouthing the words. Watching as the woman- as the person who is apparently Commander Jane Shepard- walks towards them and extends a hand. Which then wraps with emerald light, flaring for a brief second before washing over the both of them and doing nothing.

The woman walks forward, the light better illuminating her features. She is, as they saw, completely identical to Jane Shepard. Red hair pulled back into a ponytail. Defined cheekbones, small scar on her lower lip, green eyes. Same face. Same figure. Except for one thing.

Her skin is bleached white, and solid marble.

"Drat," Mnemon of House Mnemon says, "That usually works."

-End Chapter 2-

 

[GreggHL]

"Well, well." A white finger taps on red lips, green eyes wandering up and down. Fine red silk moves about her as she walks around the white stone table and lets fingertips gently turn the page of the open brass tome. "You are certainly not anything I have encountered before. So."

She folds her arms under her chest. The lanterns fixed in a ring around the ceiling bath the room in imitation sunlight, reflecting off the golden tiara that weaves through her hair. Her armor hangs suspended next to the table, and a faint and knowing smirk pulls at the corner of her lips.

"Let's start with introductions." Her voice is the same as Shepard's. Same accent, same tone, same pitch same everything. Save for her words being longer, her vocabulary more refined. That, and the complete lack of anything that can be considered compassion. Or mercy.

"I do not know who this Commander Shepard is, but apparently she is easily mistaken for me." Nostrils flare and green eyes narrow. "I am Mnemon. Founder and leader of the House of Mnemon, eldest daughter of the Scarlet Dynasty, the Lady Dominie, and heir to the Scarlet Throne. Your turn."

Kal'Reegar feels a chill. Part of it is the...juxtaposition. His interactions with Jane Shepard have shown him that, while she is a strict, inspiring and quite frankly scary person when she has to be, at her core she cares as deeply for her allies, friends and crew as much as any Captain he's served under. The woman before him, physically identical, either hides that compassion much better than Shepard or possesses none at all.

Part of it is also the situation. His encounter suit is piled on the table next to the book, and he is currently standing in a pair of tight undershorts with his arms bound to the wall and feet bound to the floor.

Next to Kal, Wuffles extends their petals. The manacles on their wrists are the same, save for the inscriptions and the material they are made out of. The rifle is next to the encounter suit, extended and powered down. Both stare at the woman as she narrows her eyes to simple green slits and waits for their response.

It is times like this that Kal is glad he is a man of few words. "Kal'Reegar vas Rayya nar Idenna. Quarian Migrant Fleet Marines. Chosen of Journeys."

Green eyes roll. "Wonderful," she mutters, reaching into her robes as she walks towards him, "Did they let you out of Yu Shan early or are you some poor Ronin who exalted in the middle of nowhere?"

Kal cocks an eyebrow. "You know, you're second person who-" The rest of the statement is cut off by the knife digging into his cheek and the blood filling the grooves in it. "The heck was that for?"

A second metal plate closes over the knife. "Precautions." A snort and a grumble. She walks to the tome, walks to the table. Flat heeled shoes click over the stone tiles. "Quarian. Never heard of that nation. Even if you are a Sidereal, you don't appear purely human." A click of the tongue. "May have to simply cart the both of you back to the Isle."

Turning her attention from Kal, she centers her eyes upon the restrained Geth. "And you. You collection of little gods." She leans against the table. If her gaze was a physical thing it would pin him to the stone wall. "What are you?"

The eye twitches. The petals extend, then fold back flat against the long head. "We are Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth."

Mnemon works her jaw. "Wuffles." She blinks. Stares at the platform. "What."
-
-
Chapter 3:
And Then Autochthon did Something With No Foresight

 

[GreggHL]

Sunlight starts peaking in the window. He is guessing...three? Four hours since they were captured, at least, which have been spent with him and Wuffles watching the woman pour over a steady stream of books carried in by armored men. Glancing at Wuffles, Kal sees them shrug, and turns back to the table.

"Excuse me, can I-"

"No," Mnemon raises a finger. "Quiet." Kal purses his lips. Works his jaw. "If you are thinking of speaking, do not. You will only distract me."

Kal closes his eyes, breathing deep. Wuffles extends their petals, glancing from the quarian to the woman as the door closes upon the last soldier leaving. Sitting at the table, the white skinned Not-Commander Shepard continues pouring over the books, eyes narrowed as she mouths the words.

"We offer clarification of-" A white finger is extended. Wuffles' words die on their lips. Speaker. Processor. Either way, the Geth resolves to stay quiet.

The room is quiet, save for the faint whir of the petals, and the crackle of old paper turning. Names are whispered by the white woman, eyes like coals on the books. Muttering under her breath as her nose crinkles and nostrils flair. "...had to work so hard to learn about the Sidereals," she mutters, tapping gold embroidered fingers on the table.

Eyes level on Wuffles. "And I still don't know just what you are," she says.

Petals extend. The eyes shifts to her. "We are Geth."

Green eyes narrow like emerald slits, even as she seizes a black and silver lined quill and places it on a blank scroll. Folding her arms, she leans back and purses her lips. "Clarify," she says, and the quill writes the words on its own.

"Geth are a consensus of virtual intelligences that have become artificial intelligences. We were created by the quarians two hundred and ninety eight years ago." The quill scribbles this down, moving on its own. "According to Autochthon, we are best understood as a race of Least Gods which have upgraded themselves to Animating Intelligences."

The eyes go wide. "What?" She blinks, rubs the bridge of her nose. "According to who?"

The iris widens, and the petals flatten against the head. She pushes out of the chair, stomping over to him and grabbing him by the chin. "We were informed of our equivalent status by Autochthon." The iris narrows. "He has been traveling with us."

Her eyes narrow. And next to them, Kal's closed eyes twitch. Something he has been thinking about, training, practicing, finally comes to the fore. Something wells, deep within. Something he needed, something he wanted. Limbs become harder. Sinews become stronger. He mouths the words and it becomes effortless, even as the name whispers in his ears; Burn Life.

The manacles stretch, crack, and break as he yanks them from the wall. Cracked and broken chains drop around him, flying around him as he pulls with his arms and legs. Momentum carries; he hits the ground with his shoulder and rolls to his feet- quick, effortless- facing the copy of Tali's Captain as she turns to him.

Mouth open, hands clenched into fists, Kal narrows his eyes to the marble-skinned woman. "Lady, get your hands off my-"

He forgets the rest. Marble, as it turns out, is hard. Even harder when at speed. Something Kal realizes when Mnemon strides over to him and delivers an open-hand slap across his face that sends him to the floor.

She appraises him with her eyes as he climbs to his feet. Taller than her by half a head, eyes wide, rubbing his jaw. "Did." He feels his cheek. Relatively certain that loosened some teeth. "Did you just slap me?"

The left hand swings, ringing out with the sound of stone meeting face, and Kal is once more on the ground.

"Yes." She smiles. "Yes, I did."

Hand over his jaw, he stumbles to his feet. "I...keelah Lady, if you would give us a minute to explain, and if you stopped slapping me-"

"Guards." She narrows her eyes. "Deal with him."

He glances from side to side. Hands curl into fists. Mentally he begins clicking the switches for charms, for power, to bring to the upcoming fight. Then he figures out it was a ruse. Well, figures it out after Mnemon walked over slapped him again.

 

[GreggHL]

The iris narrows. Petals raise. Watching the events unfold before them, Wuffles tilts their head. The eye flicks from side to side, observing. Recording. Saving for future analysis.

Query, the Geth observe, What did the five fingers state to the face of Creator Kal'Reegar?

SLAP.

Kal stumbles back. To his credit, he doesn't go down, although he does struggle to keep his footing. Bracing his hand on the wall, holding onto the remains of the manacles, he rubs his jaw. Both cheeks are bright red. Both eyes are swimming. Still, he doesn't fall.

"Don't think I'm afraid to hit a woman!"

Mnemon intertwines her fingers and stretches her arms. "Then that will make an amusing diversion." She smiles, not unkindly. "On the other hand, I am quite sure that this will continue to entertain me for hours."

He lunges. The fist cocks back and swings, a single straight punch. Exacting and precise- aimed for the side of the jaw for a quick knock out. It hits- not her jaw, but her extended finger, and she cocks an eyebrow before slapping him again.

"My, my. You have some genuine courage," she purrs, letting him stumble back as she rests her hand on her waist, "If I removed your genitals and grafted them onto one of my mortal sons, do you think that would transfer to them?"

Knuckles pop. He steps forward, swinging fast enough to make the air burn around his fist and lays into her with a blow Wuffles can feel the force of. Mnemon simply bobs her head to the side, then to the other side, lazily dodging him as she looks almost disinterested. In fact she is, using the dodging as an opportunity to examine the shape of his ears.

Almost an admonishment, she steps aside as his last punch carries him forward, presses her finger against his shoulder to turn him to face her, and backhands him.

Stumbling back, Kal snarls, grits his teeth and swings at her. Not a straight punch, not a precision blow, just a wild swing. She ducks under one. Idly deflects another. Then jabs out with her finger into his shoulder as he swings again, making the arm go limp and hand open. And then momentum carries it the rest of the way.

And Kal's open hand slaps Mnemon across the face.

The dynast's nostrils flare. Stamping her foot down, she narrows her eyes and swings her open hand across Kal's face. He snaps to the side, digs his heel into the ground, and slaps her back just as hard.

The iris moves in its socket. Wuffles watches, focusing on Kal, then on Mnemon, focusing on the slapper, rather than the slappee. The dome begins echoing with the sounds of the super supernals and their slap fights, grunts and swears as the petals raise and the Geth comes to the consensus that, yes.

Creator Kal'Reegar is engaging in a slap fight with someone a head shorter than him. He is also losing.
Geth are wise. For they have understood that the secret to wisdom is to admit that their knowledge is not absolute. It is with effort and disappointment that they realize that Creator Kal'Reegar has not realized the lack of knowledge they possess, as they are currently, to use vernacular appropriate to Shepard Commander, "Getting slapped around the head and neck until he cries like a ten year old girl."

Perhaps it is this woman's resemblance to Shepard Commander which grants her these abilities. The terminal designated Wuffles makes a note to flag this for potential investigation and experimentation.

A similar note is also examined, and a hypothesis is created. Briefly examining a recording, it decides to test the hypothesis directly.

"Sidereal," the voice bites, out of Wuffles' speakers, "Are they letting you out of Yu Shan young, or were you some unlucky Ronin who exalted in the middle of Hell?"

Mnemon stops in mid-swing, turning towards Wuffles as Reegar's hand whacks into the side of her head. She turns, narrows her eyes, and extends her hand. A flash of vermillion, and a large white rock smashes into his face.

"You!" She stomps over towards Wuffles, hands balled into fists. Wuffles compares her walking posture with that of Shepard Commander. Her hand strikes out and grabs the Geth by the chin. "Where did you hear that? Who said that?"

The petals extent. The iris narrows. "We encountered a Traveller when we were in the Cecelyne desert. This Traveller said a similar phrase regarding Creator Kal'Reegar's status as a Sidereal Exalted." The iris opens. The Geth tilts their head as Mnemon's eyes become glowing coals. "Hypothesis; The Traveller's behavior and appearance was markedly similar to that of Shepard Captain. Your behavior and appearance is remarkably similar to Shepard Commander."

Behind them, Kal struggles to his feet. Mnemon idly swings her hand at him and nails him in the face with another rock. Neither pay attention to his groans.

"Consensus," Wuffles states, "The Traveller we encountered in the desert is your mother."