Preterhuman (Mass Effect Fanfic)
- Thread starter Black-Aengel-01
- Start date
- Sci-Fi Fantasy Horror
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
But unlike every other person out there she may actually recieve the blessings. And actually be very happy. Crazy bitch...
- Location
- Turrialba
If I remember Athame is considered a goddess for the Asari? It could be interesting if she pass the tales of humanity as entities that are impossible to understand to even herself(not wrong) and imagine the sheer terror of them meeting humanity after listening those tales for generations to the point of create some cults around humanity based on rumors about the nature of the humans.
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- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
"Athame, mother and goddess of the Asari, blessed profanities born of bastardized divinity of the star born darkness. Her name is a holy prayer among the Asari faiths. And the demons where her womb she stole blood from. Six sigils of form. The Perfection Within, the Perfection Without. The Song of Stars, the Equation of Dreams. The Mastery of Habitation and the Mastery of Substance. Guided by Sentient Maps and the Obscurial Destination of Ascencion."
Excerp from the book of Athame
EDIT: Wait... mow I realize how much worse its going to be for Athame when she makes contact with Lotris.
Think about it, she only knows that Preters are three races. The Magnus which are from her point of view (and its not completely wrong) the perfection within the internal form of the body. The Cybrex (Last Dynasty of the Shifter) which are the perfection without the body, as in they can shape shift to become perfect in their environments. And the Void Wyrms, which are massive whale sized snake like void dwelling organisms, which can grow up to an absolute maximum of 700 meters, that can survive virtually anywhere.
Then through Lotris she finds out that not only were there more: (Cardinals are AIs that can understand physical phenomena with the ease a master artist paints a stick figure, the Phantasms which are the Cardinal's psychic equivalents and the god damn mountain sized Lithomorphs.) but realizes that each is a perfect creation by a divine hand. (The Obscurus and Mother) and the gods are still walking the galaxy as she speaks.
The Obscurus are something that no one can properly pinpoint in the [What the Hell is It] scale, and the Sentients are polymorphic Evangelion Adams when they are at their most powerful, the whole lot of them!
She going to have a Religious Experience the likes of which would make an Eclissiarch of the Ministorum run away and convert to an atheist.
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- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
They are somewhere in a star cluster with no mass relays on sight. Preferably on the galactic edge as there is less life there and they can build without worrying about any nozy alien.
Dyson spheees and ringworlds are a but out of their skill level... If it can be made at all. Though they do have planetary superstructures and void ones.
They have the Dyson Sprawls, the Encumenopolis, Gateways, Citadels, Macroarcologies, Multi purpose Megastations, Superfactories and Colossi. A few other here and there, but nothing as insane as a ringworld or an actual dyson sphere.
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
Well.... Its pretty bad already that she is all but worshipping them at this point. With Lotris it might end up becoming into full blown fanatism. If she were to gain insights into what Humanity is at its core.... Well.... The Cult of Preterhumanity would gain hard traction with its newest Pope.
I'm still wondering if the shifters will be bring back at full glory ? What is the ability of the Wyrm ? Does they shoot fire or something from their mouth or eyes ? Also i'm wondering if the preterhumans are going to developp more in technological levels , developping their power in the sea of the star and dream . Quick question does they have psionic abilities equal to Protoss ?Does they have power equivalent to conduits of infalous ?
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
While the Cybrex are the last remaining Dynasty, traces of other Dynasties in the form of Clans still linger on. Though it would take considerable time as Cybrex and Shifters as a whole are rather traditional in their mindset.
Wyrms mastery comes in the form of manipulating and distorting gravity, dimensional barriers and space time and the production of ultraluminal forms of particles as well as how to detect them. But yes... Given that they are cybernetic organic life forms they could develop a fire blast organ... Or use their psionic abilities to burn an enemy ship's components with a glance.
Being a post scarcity society, preterhumanity has high emphasis on research. So yeah... Science for the Science God! Books for the Book Throne!
As for psionics. Aside from Phantasms, Wyrms and Lithomorphs, everyone has very minor starting powers. (The Sentients and Obscurus don't count.) Magnads can only do tactil telepathy and empathetic abilities and very, very minor biomancy. Though if one pushes they could move a pencil. Cybrex (and shifters as a whole) are even worse as they only have the telepathy and empathy. Cardinals are piss poor at this though and they even struggle with telepathy (given their minds are geared towards physical phenomena). But as they study and develop their psionic skills (and get through the nonesense of paranormal non euclidean mathematics and metaphysics) then their power grows continuously.
An elder magnad (1000 years old, even though he/she/it may not look older than 30) can cause a skyscrapper to collapse and fling tanks around. And the usage of incantations and sorcery is not to be triffled with. Firthermore, most people would carry equipment to further improve said psionic powers. And if the cunt is flagged for the Engel Gene Activation Program, then everything goes to hell. You might as well be dealing with a weak primarch with how powerful the bastard becomes. And magnads are not the only ones on this. Shifters have the Formless Gene while the Wyrms have the Jormungandr Gene. Cardinals have the Black Star Algorithms engaged and the Phantasms have the Reverie Algorithms. Lithos have the Exotic Drivers engaged.
If Engels are mini primarchs, then Formless are blacklight shapeshifting death machines and the wyrms become 700 meter long unstoppable space born abominations. As for the Black Stars and Reverie imagine their processing power shoots well over the roof to levels that the physical components shouldn't be able to opetate at and can alter their components through indecipherable processes. The lithos become.... Something.... Its really hard to describe a machine rock/mountain made out of sentient magma, plasma crystal and degenerate neutron matter.
I have a good feeling about this . My incredible potent madly mind is cracking and crashing VERY HARD . So yep definetly it would becoming enjoyable . Ooh i can't wait to see protheans fuck up , fuck themselves up and the entire galaxy . Then leave some misconception about what happened at 50 000 years ago so the younger races would have to deal with reapers and eldritch abominations . Oh also the preterhumans but they would have evolivng and advanced and ascended into something more . Are we going to see new types of preterhumans ?
Oh i would love to see the face of stagnant backwater primitives who try to step in and understood the full scale about how fuck they really are . About my previous with the choice that i want in the story , what do you really think ? But also i think it would be good to see every choice we have seen in your story . It would be hilarious
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
Wait and see.
And about your choice? Hilarious indeed... But a bit late for the party. I am already writing the future parts.
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
Nope. I posted earlier what triggered the Catalyst to go against its creators. It took one single metaterrestrial invasion for it to conclude that all civilizations would bring extinction upon themselves eventualy when they uncover that realm of nightmares.
And preterhumanity would be no 1 on their "To kill with extreme prejudice" list as their technology drinks from the Void of Dreams like if it was water. To the Reapers and Catalyst humanity are a nightmare made flesh. So yeah... They are going to be targeted... And very, very hard.
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OOOOOOOH OHOHO Well good luck for those metallic self-entitled jackass squidship because the preterhumans are as good as they are in the material technology tree development and they are from what i see they are stronger than Reapers in the Sea of Dream technology development . Oh I can't wait to see their development on that conflict but i would be patient because now it's time to have Protheans fucked up once again . If the Reapers would understood their ennemies and from what i can tell they would have a big holy shit when they understood that humans came from something and they are running from their big brothers cause they didn't want them in their sandbox .
Oh by the way i have re-looked a passage that make me wonder :
Oh by the way i have re-looked a passage that make me wonder :
I was thinking of that when the guy see that :Dead Space 2 The Marker by JMP2020 on DeviantArt
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- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
The Obscurus are the only ones who remember. Why do you think they name themselves after old forgotten culture icons? Herma Mora, Lucifer, Queen Elizabeth, Yahweh, Vishnu, Lilith... They thought that it would be poetic. And indeed it is.
"Make Mankind Whole!"
"Make Mankind Whole!"
What is strange is that the other side of the coin provides the same mentality, albeit under a different flavor.
Chapter 2.2
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
Chapter 2.2
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"No." It was the one simple answer he could only give to the creature before him. Something that Athame did not take well at all, as it was obviously expected.
"What do you mean 'no'? It is essential for me to meet him!" She doubled down on her argument with greater strength in her tone. "You think I would dare harm him?" She accused the man before her, which caused Ibrimeth to close his side eyes and sigh. Considering her less than stellar track record at keeping people alive, Ibrimeth did not doubt it for a second that she would do something atrocious to the man if she got her way. And it did not limit to simply causing physical harm. There are many ways a person can cause damage to others. Twisting their values, their mentality, their sense of self. These are just a few of the countless acts of cruelty the witch before him has been accused off, and there could probably be more than had not been documented yet.
"Perhaps."
Instead of seeking to convince Ibrimeth through her more well-known skills at persuasion, ways she became agitated, almost as if what Ibrimeth said was the most offensive declaration in the universe. "I will do no such thing! He is important beyond measure to me and everything I am striving for! I could not dare harm him!"
She almost sounded like if she were pleading… begging like a desperate person for a chance of a lifetime. But Ibrimeth wouldn't fall for any of her tricks. She had her way with words and portrayal, a skill she had used countless times for compromising the minds of many men and women. Something that no one in their right mind would want to take a chance with. However, it did not mean that she was not slipping, and despite the high risk probability that this was all an act she did to get her way, Ibrimeth found himself more often believing that she was being genuine.
Sigh… he would need a replacement soon. Having constant remote interactions with the witch may be compromising him already.
"Either way, I cannot grant you an audience with him." Ibrimeth was then forced to hold back the shudder he felt when her hateful glare met his eyes. Those red eyes that alone could tear at his mind and make him expose even his most deep and darkest secrets. But he stood his ground in the face of terror and tried changing his tactic. "Mostly because you are far too valuable and everyone that has made contact with him has either gone mad or straight up died." Good thing that diplomacy when properly applied can help one survive, because the witch was now glaring at the man with slightly less concentrated disdain.
"I need him still." She stated. "I can make a perfect clone copy of myself if need be. She will handle the mental strain."
"I still cannot grant you an audience." Ibrimeth refuted.
"Then give me neurofuild!" She shouted. "I want samples from every single part of his brain. Every single one. The frontal orgin center, six milifluids, the lateral orgin centres, nine milifluids, the…" and she went on, naming each and every centre and neuron cluster in a prothean's brain, down with the specifics of how much he wants from each and every part of the body. It was a quantity that his contacts through the Touch told him were within safe parameters of extraction and would not result in any cognitive alterations in the patient. Well, no more than the ones already present by his meeting with the Preterhumans. However, that would take time. About six months to do at the least.
"I will not promise anything." Instant glare of doom and damnation. "I still have to report it to Perferix for clearance."
Her four red eyes glinted slightly as a familiar grin crossed her lips. "Then convince him for me that if he doesn't say yes, he will not get any more results."
"That is not up to you to decide." Ibrimeth tried, only for Athame to laugh. It was not a nice laugh. In fact, it was downright cruel and malevolent.
"Oh, but it is. I know you have been toiling to keep me oblivious about the various interesting happenings around the galaxy, but I know I am the single person in this entire empire that has managed to make enough breakthroughs in the Preterhuman's biology to consider me not only imperative, but an utterly irreplaceable asset." She leaned forwards, intensifying her four eyed stare into Ibrimeth's own. "And I know that the Nobility and the Ten Dynasties really, really want to locate the Preterhumans as hastily as possible. They may be too stubborn to admit it, but Preterhuman technology far surpasses our own and from what the remaining footage can tell, it is beyond what anyone has ever thought is even possible." She sat back, a knowing smile decorating her pristine features. "The perfect technology needed to halt the three way massacre our illustrious empire is at the brunt of. Four if the Preterhumans join in on the fun." She snorted, looking off into the distance. "Seriously, the only reasons why we have not been defeated yet are because we hold dominion over the vast majority of the Mass Relay Network thanks to the Innusanon's Star Maps and that our enemies are too far apart to properly formulate a cohesive crippling strike on us. But that state of affairs will not last. Not forever." She stood and made way to the exit. "So if you want to expedite the process I need Lotris, for only he was the one alive that made contact with the species whose knowledge still eludes our kind's greatest minds."
And with that she left, leaving behind a rather perturbed Ibrimeth, thinking on how in the name of the Ancestors is he going to escape with his skin attached.
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Erandir entered containment monitor room No. 0441. A rather infamous number, well known in this place and far beyond into the greater circles of the Nobility. Such was its dubious renown that the mere second he asked to be directed there, the receptionist VI asked for several hundred credentials, including a request if Erandir would want to leave a Memory Shard for any loved ones he had.
The very fact that the VI standard protocol would go to such extremes almost made Erandir want to delegate this task to someone of lower rank. However, it was very likely that anyone with less experience than him would lack the mental strength to enter the same chamber that held death within touch, if rumours are to be believed.
As he stood in the entrance to the monitoring room he scanned the people running this place and found them to all have this same haunted look in their eye. None was a Netraad, that alone explained no one had any lucidity in their stare.
"Erandir Drenn. Special Division under the Word and Will of the Ten Dynasties." He proclaimed his tittle and rank and the various wardens turned to him with a lethargic glance. One of them walked up to Erandir and nodded. One whose name tag told Erandir of the man's name. Roda That.
"What do you want Mr. Drenn?" It was only polite in wording, yet the tone almost demanded that Erandir explained why he was disrupting their schedule and making their day worse.
Seeing that the warden was in no mood to talk, Erandir simply have him a shard, whom the Roda analysed in quick order. Erandir had to wear a Touch inhibitor collar and suit to be allowed in. Something that everyone in the room also had and only permitted very special shard to connect, like the one he handed to the warden.
Sighing, the Roda put the data shard on a transmitter terminal and the rest of the wardens got the update to their duties. None of them seemed pleased. "I want to apologise for my tone." The one named Roda began, which caught Erandir a bit off guard. "We had an attack during our interview yesterday and no one here is feeling right after it. If you had come three days from now, we would have been more accommodating."
It was odd and alarming what the man had said. Erandir nodded. "I understand." He really did not, he would need more context for that. "You said an attack. Can you elaborate?"
Roda looked at Erandir with a mildly surprised gaze. "How much do you know of what happens in this place?"
"Not much. I was informed to send this shard your way and nothing else. We are not told what are the happenings in this room."
The warden looked at him with an indecipherable stare. He mused over the man for some time before he turned to a distant wall. Erandir followed the man's gaze and his four eyes widened in surprise when he saw seven parallel claw marks on the steel plate wall and if he could see right, there was traces of blood on it. What had caused that? What happened here? Was it not Lotris the actual danger in this place?
But any questions he was about to inquiry were silenced before they even left his mouth. "I agree." Roda said, solemnly. "It is best if you did not." And with that the warden left Erandir alone, returning back to his duties.
Erandir looked as the men worked, staring at the scene visibly confused. He turned to look at the claw marks, claws that no Prothean hand could make, and he decided there and then that he would prefer to be elsewhere than there, and turned to leave. But just as he walked away and departed the chamber, he overheard one of the wardens murmur something from behind, "Adelil will not be pleased." Then the doors closed and the secrets of room 0441 were left within.
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AN: I hope you like it. Comment and give criticism.
I have completed the Magnad, Wyrm and Cybrex (Shifter) Codexes and now I am working on the Sentients and Ship Models. When all of them are done I will post them all at once. Sorry things have been slow lately, but life has been a bitch with study and my muse being a cunt and not wanting to be helpful.
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"No." It was the one simple answer he could only give to the creature before him. Something that Athame did not take well at all, as it was obviously expected.
"What do you mean 'no'? It is essential for me to meet him!" She doubled down on her argument with greater strength in her tone. "You think I would dare harm him?" She accused the man before her, which caused Ibrimeth to close his side eyes and sigh. Considering her less than stellar track record at keeping people alive, Ibrimeth did not doubt it for a second that she would do something atrocious to the man if she got her way. And it did not limit to simply causing physical harm. There are many ways a person can cause damage to others. Twisting their values, their mentality, their sense of self. These are just a few of the countless acts of cruelty the witch before him has been accused off, and there could probably be more than had not been documented yet.
"Perhaps."
Instead of seeking to convince Ibrimeth through her more well-known skills at persuasion, ways she became agitated, almost as if what Ibrimeth said was the most offensive declaration in the universe. "I will do no such thing! He is important beyond measure to me and everything I am striving for! I could not dare harm him!"
She almost sounded like if she were pleading… begging like a desperate person for a chance of a lifetime. But Ibrimeth wouldn't fall for any of her tricks. She had her way with words and portrayal, a skill she had used countless times for compromising the minds of many men and women. Something that no one in their right mind would want to take a chance with. However, it did not mean that she was not slipping, and despite the high risk probability that this was all an act she did to get her way, Ibrimeth found himself more often believing that she was being genuine.
Sigh… he would need a replacement soon. Having constant remote interactions with the witch may be compromising him already.
"Either way, I cannot grant you an audience with him." Ibrimeth was then forced to hold back the shudder he felt when her hateful glare met his eyes. Those red eyes that alone could tear at his mind and make him expose even his most deep and darkest secrets. But he stood his ground in the face of terror and tried changing his tactic. "Mostly because you are far too valuable and everyone that has made contact with him has either gone mad or straight up died." Good thing that diplomacy when properly applied can help one survive, because the witch was now glaring at the man with slightly less concentrated disdain.
"I need him still." She stated. "I can make a perfect clone copy of myself if need be. She will handle the mental strain."
"I still cannot grant you an audience." Ibrimeth refuted.
"Then give me neurofuild!" She shouted. "I want samples from every single part of his brain. Every single one. The frontal orgin center, six milifluids, the lateral orgin centres, nine milifluids, the…" and she went on, naming each and every centre and neuron cluster in a prothean's brain, down with the specifics of how much he wants from each and every part of the body. It was a quantity that his contacts through the Touch told him were within safe parameters of extraction and would not result in any cognitive alterations in the patient. Well, no more than the ones already present by his meeting with the Preterhumans. However, that would take time. About six months to do at the least.
"I will not promise anything." Instant glare of doom and damnation. "I still have to report it to Perferix for clearance."
Her four red eyes glinted slightly as a familiar grin crossed her lips. "Then convince him for me that if he doesn't say yes, he will not get any more results."
"That is not up to you to decide." Ibrimeth tried, only for Athame to laugh. It was not a nice laugh. In fact, it was downright cruel and malevolent.
"Oh, but it is. I know you have been toiling to keep me oblivious about the various interesting happenings around the galaxy, but I know I am the single person in this entire empire that has managed to make enough breakthroughs in the Preterhuman's biology to consider me not only imperative, but an utterly irreplaceable asset." She leaned forwards, intensifying her four eyed stare into Ibrimeth's own. "And I know that the Nobility and the Ten Dynasties really, really want to locate the Preterhumans as hastily as possible. They may be too stubborn to admit it, but Preterhuman technology far surpasses our own and from what the remaining footage can tell, it is beyond what anyone has ever thought is even possible." She sat back, a knowing smile decorating her pristine features. "The perfect technology needed to halt the three way massacre our illustrious empire is at the brunt of. Four if the Preterhumans join in on the fun." She snorted, looking off into the distance. "Seriously, the only reasons why we have not been defeated yet are because we hold dominion over the vast majority of the Mass Relay Network thanks to the Innusanon's Star Maps and that our enemies are too far apart to properly formulate a cohesive crippling strike on us. But that state of affairs will not last. Not forever." She stood and made way to the exit. "So if you want to expedite the process I need Lotris, for only he was the one alive that made contact with the species whose knowledge still eludes our kind's greatest minds."
And with that she left, leaving behind a rather perturbed Ibrimeth, thinking on how in the name of the Ancestors is he going to escape with his skin attached.
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Erandir entered containment monitor room No. 0441. A rather infamous number, well known in this place and far beyond into the greater circles of the Nobility. Such was its dubious renown that the mere second he asked to be directed there, the receptionist VI asked for several hundred credentials, including a request if Erandir would want to leave a Memory Shard for any loved ones he had.
The very fact that the VI standard protocol would go to such extremes almost made Erandir want to delegate this task to someone of lower rank. However, it was very likely that anyone with less experience than him would lack the mental strength to enter the same chamber that held death within touch, if rumours are to be believed.
As he stood in the entrance to the monitoring room he scanned the people running this place and found them to all have this same haunted look in their eye. None was a Netraad, that alone explained no one had any lucidity in their stare.
"Erandir Drenn. Special Division under the Word and Will of the Ten Dynasties." He proclaimed his tittle and rank and the various wardens turned to him with a lethargic glance. One of them walked up to Erandir and nodded. One whose name tag told Erandir of the man's name. Roda That.
"What do you want Mr. Drenn?" It was only polite in wording, yet the tone almost demanded that Erandir explained why he was disrupting their schedule and making their day worse.
Seeing that the warden was in no mood to talk, Erandir simply have him a shard, whom the Roda analysed in quick order. Erandir had to wear a Touch inhibitor collar and suit to be allowed in. Something that everyone in the room also had and only permitted very special shard to connect, like the one he handed to the warden.
Sighing, the Roda put the data shard on a transmitter terminal and the rest of the wardens got the update to their duties. None of them seemed pleased. "I want to apologise for my tone." The one named Roda began, which caught Erandir a bit off guard. "We had an attack during our interview yesterday and no one here is feeling right after it. If you had come three days from now, we would have been more accommodating."
It was odd and alarming what the man had said. Erandir nodded. "I understand." He really did not, he would need more context for that. "You said an attack. Can you elaborate?"
Roda looked at Erandir with a mildly surprised gaze. "How much do you know of what happens in this place?"
"Not much. I was informed to send this shard your way and nothing else. We are not told what are the happenings in this room."
The warden looked at him with an indecipherable stare. He mused over the man for some time before he turned to a distant wall. Erandir followed the man's gaze and his four eyes widened in surprise when he saw seven parallel claw marks on the steel plate wall and if he could see right, there was traces of blood on it. What had caused that? What happened here? Was it not Lotris the actual danger in this place?
But any questions he was about to inquiry were silenced before they even left his mouth. "I agree." Roda said, solemnly. "It is best if you did not." And with that the warden left Erandir alone, returning back to his duties.
Erandir looked as the men worked, staring at the scene visibly confused. He turned to look at the claw marks, claws that no Prothean hand could make, and he decided there and then that he would prefer to be elsewhere than there, and turned to leave. But just as he walked away and departed the chamber, he overheard one of the wardens murmur something from behind, "Adelil will not be pleased." Then the doors closed and the secrets of room 0441 were left within.
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AN: I hope you like it. Comment and give criticism.
I have completed the Magnad, Wyrm and Cybrex (Shifter) Codexes and now I am working on the Sentients and Ship Models. When all of them are done I will post them all at once. Sorry things have been slow lately, but life has been a bitch with study and my muse being a cunt and not wanting to be helpful.
- Location
- Isekai'd to this shitty world we're live in
Protheans are under attack... does this mean the Reapers are already here, or are those just some others, unrelated enemies? By canon, the Prothean war with the Reapers took over 100 years, so it would be possible, although I think they might've been more urgent to get some new stuff than they are.
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
Protheans are highly militaristic and very big on dominating other empires. That has made them no 1 on everyone's shit list. The Rachnii Harmonious Gestalt to the galactic east, the Coral Kingdoms of Thrass to the south west and the Illuminated Realms of the Riethan Dha to the north. These are the last galactic powers that have managed to hold on against the imperialistic Protheans.
The Reapers haven't shown up yet and won't until some time.
Yep I can't see a huge eye of terror coming here or just a small warp rift .
Chapter 2.3
- Location
- In the Space between Spaces
Chapter 2.3
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Ibrimeth stood at the glass, keeping his eyes down towards the reason of his ever growing worry.
Athame.
It had taken seven months to extract the appropriate amount of neurofluid for whatever her mad desires were. Seven months of extracting microscopic amounts of cerebral liquid from the brain of what best could be described as a religious mass of instant death.
And fourteen deaths by other… less defined means.
As time had passed, Lotris slowly grew more and more active. More aware of his surroundings. But no less unhinged. And suddenly one day… the deaths of researchers began to appear. Everyone that worked with the man eventually committed suicide and all clues point to the so called Ghost that the researchers had begun calling Adelil. Whatever it was, it showed particular hostility to anyone and anything that threatened Lotris' life and if questions persisted for too long during an interview, it would lash out and attack indiscriminately, either the researchers, the computers or the environment itself.
The ways it attacked were different each time, but oftentimes resulted in the death of someone, either sooner or later.
And the potency of the attack only increased with the passage of time.
It was an impossibility that was happening these last ten years. But they were happening and the Nobility wanted to know everything about that and if they could make use of it. Ibrimeth did not want to deal with the so called Adelil, and personally believed that something so paranormal should be left alone and far away from people.
Yet his superiors made a good counter argument to his personal views by pointing out that if the Preterhumans could create such impossible anomalies, then the Prothean people could also, or at the very least find ways to counter them. And for any of that to happen, the Preterhuman technology must be analysed.
It made sense… really it did.
But at the same time Ibrimeth cursed at the fact that the Nobility did not feel something such as fear and as a consequence, were the first to dive into the unknown, with insufficient regard of how many others would die following their command.
Well, it has worked for us so far, and maybe it would again.
Or perhaps not.
In truth no one was certain of anything when it came to these creatures. And the only one among the prothean people was the deranged Avatar of Flesh.
Speaking of which, the witch had already procured the container that brought her requested contents. Ibrimeth could see her joyful grin from where he was standing and he was almost perturbed by it. He could see how she struggled with it, staring at the case with a desire to see whatever was within that was almost physically painful to contain.
But eventually she made a step back and nodded to a near perfect copy of her to approach and be the willing sacrificial victim in this lunacy. The clone of her was already infected with a duplicate mind of hers and should be as dangerous as the original, with all the mental quirks and resistances that the original witch had.
It was one of the many reasons why the witch was so dangerous. Ibrimeth recalled reading in an old article during her reign of terror that at one point there were over a hundred and fifty clones of her wreaking havoc across the eastern frontier of the Empire. In fact if her 'experiments' had persisted for a few more months the Rachnii could have taken the opportunity to attack the Empire and would have caused a critical hit on the Dormonian Sector and probably would have had a direct line of attack towards the Citadel. Thankfully the Avatars of Annihilation and of the Hunt were able to locate her clones and kill them off before any permanent harm could be caused to the empire.
The Rachnii did attack after all, but were effectively repelled after the loss of twenty seven worlds and the counterattack had the Rachnii permanently lose three of their planets and one of their most advanced research centres. A bloody campaign, but another victory for the Prothean Empire.
The clone approached and the original Athame stepped away, nodding to her replica.
The clone nodded back and opened the case, letting chilly, sterilized mist flow out from within. The contents were several micro-vials arranged in the vague shape of a prothean cerebral cortex. Each vial containing microscopic traces of frozen cerebrovascular liquid.
She looked at the vials with an expression of excitement, as if she could not contain the glee forming inside her of what she is about to receive.
Ibrimeth would be far more cautious and fearful than anything else. Everyone who has ever being in contact with Lotris himself either died or went completely insane, usually forcing the later to be terminated for the safety of others.
He wanted to see the result of this mad wish of that witch.
He wanted to see them fail.
The witch's clone merged the vials under the Contact Union Shard and raised it, opening her mouth and extending her long tongue. The moment of truth had come.
She touched the Shard and she would scream as nightmares and horrors beyond the scope of imagination would ravage her mind into fragmented splinters, rending her into a deranged, berserker like trance that she would not, could not escape from. She would lash out and strike at her mind sisters and progenitor and in the process spill the contents of Lotris' cerebral fluids into all directions. Making contact with the others and therefore sending them into their own insane fits of horror and lunacy. Creating a cascading effect that would inevitably condemn the witches into irrecoverable dementia and insanity, forevermore silencing her and her vile deeds to the future of this galaxy.
This was as how it supposed to be and has always been whenever someone has made contact with the cursed blood and flesh of the mad warrior turned death incarnate that was Lotris Prat.
None of that happened.
There was no screaming, no yelling. Not a single sound.
Absolute silence permeated the chambers. A silence so deep and profound that Ibrimeth could hear his own heartbeat. Not a single being made a sound as they watched the replica of the Avatar of Flesh soundlessly stare into the high ceiling above with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated to such an extreme that would almost be seen as a sign of deep drug abuse. Yet, they could see it in her.
Everyone could.
Those were the eyes of someone who was witnessing something so awful that it became magnificent. There was pure awe radiating off her and even with the inhibitors in place and the myriad of shields against the witches' Touch… they could feel her reverence.
She blinked once, twice, thrice. Washing away the tears that were forming in her wide, dilated eyes.
Her grip became weak and the Shard fell from her hands into the floor with an audible click. The sound becoming as loud as a thunderclap with the all-consuming silence that permeated the chambers.
She saw it. She saw what they were. Undiluted and uncontained.
And her lips began to move. "The fall of a world into a Sea of Nightmares." She began and Ibrimeth shuddered at her voice which no longer resembled those of any prothean. A voice that flowed as smooth as water, tones as gentle as starlight, and yet hiding a deep darkness that would submerge all into oblivion. "Its return and with it, the coming of the Blessed Night.
The wars against the Beyond and the Dreaming Dead Precursors.
She whose Love had to commit Unending Genocide.
And the Sight of the End of all Ends they escaped. Six forms of glory. Two to guide. An equation of love and of life." She giggled, like the laughter of a small child. "It's magnificent."
Her hands extended as everyone high above stared in stunned silence. She had survived the ordeal and spread her arms to bestow the gift to all others. A chance that the Avatar of Flesh took with reverence and both progenitor and progeny held hands, before embracing in reverent bliss.
"What… what just happened?" Ibrimeth heard to his left and turned his shocked gaze to see all the wardens and researchers leaning on the glass panel, staring down at the event that had just unfolded.
"She actually managed to survive it…" Another said.
"And not become insane."
"You mean no more than what she already was."
"Look!"
Ibrimeth turned to the scene bellow and watched as clone and original stepped away. The Avatar of Flesh was smiling. Not a knowing smile. Not a fevered one. Not one of malice or of insanity. But one of calm serenity. Her head down in peaceful worship and her eyes closed.
But the tranquil silence passed and her head slowly craned up as her twinkling crimson red eyes opened and met the many researchers and wardens staring down at her with shock and morbid wonder.
Then her white lips parted. "The priestess summons her humble flock. Our purpose is here at long last."
Not a second later, the sound of a gunshot was heard.
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AN: I hope you like this chapter. If you see anything that needs correcting or change, please let me know.
And finally, like and comment. It sustains my muse.
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Ibrimeth stood at the glass, keeping his eyes down towards the reason of his ever growing worry.
Athame.
It had taken seven months to extract the appropriate amount of neurofluid for whatever her mad desires were. Seven months of extracting microscopic amounts of cerebral liquid from the brain of what best could be described as a religious mass of instant death.
And fourteen deaths by other… less defined means.
As time had passed, Lotris slowly grew more and more active. More aware of his surroundings. But no less unhinged. And suddenly one day… the deaths of researchers began to appear. Everyone that worked with the man eventually committed suicide and all clues point to the so called Ghost that the researchers had begun calling Adelil. Whatever it was, it showed particular hostility to anyone and anything that threatened Lotris' life and if questions persisted for too long during an interview, it would lash out and attack indiscriminately, either the researchers, the computers or the environment itself.
The ways it attacked were different each time, but oftentimes resulted in the death of someone, either sooner or later.
And the potency of the attack only increased with the passage of time.
It was an impossibility that was happening these last ten years. But they were happening and the Nobility wanted to know everything about that and if they could make use of it. Ibrimeth did not want to deal with the so called Adelil, and personally believed that something so paranormal should be left alone and far away from people.
Yet his superiors made a good counter argument to his personal views by pointing out that if the Preterhumans could create such impossible anomalies, then the Prothean people could also, or at the very least find ways to counter them. And for any of that to happen, the Preterhuman technology must be analysed.
It made sense… really it did.
But at the same time Ibrimeth cursed at the fact that the Nobility did not feel something such as fear and as a consequence, were the first to dive into the unknown, with insufficient regard of how many others would die following their command.
Well, it has worked for us so far, and maybe it would again.
Or perhaps not.
In truth no one was certain of anything when it came to these creatures. And the only one among the prothean people was the deranged Avatar of Flesh.
Speaking of which, the witch had already procured the container that brought her requested contents. Ibrimeth could see her joyful grin from where he was standing and he was almost perturbed by it. He could see how she struggled with it, staring at the case with a desire to see whatever was within that was almost physically painful to contain.
But eventually she made a step back and nodded to a near perfect copy of her to approach and be the willing sacrificial victim in this lunacy. The clone of her was already infected with a duplicate mind of hers and should be as dangerous as the original, with all the mental quirks and resistances that the original witch had.
It was one of the many reasons why the witch was so dangerous. Ibrimeth recalled reading in an old article during her reign of terror that at one point there were over a hundred and fifty clones of her wreaking havoc across the eastern frontier of the Empire. In fact if her 'experiments' had persisted for a few more months the Rachnii could have taken the opportunity to attack the Empire and would have caused a critical hit on the Dormonian Sector and probably would have had a direct line of attack towards the Citadel. Thankfully the Avatars of Annihilation and of the Hunt were able to locate her clones and kill them off before any permanent harm could be caused to the empire.
The Rachnii did attack after all, but were effectively repelled after the loss of twenty seven worlds and the counterattack had the Rachnii permanently lose three of their planets and one of their most advanced research centres. A bloody campaign, but another victory for the Prothean Empire.
The clone approached and the original Athame stepped away, nodding to her replica.
The clone nodded back and opened the case, letting chilly, sterilized mist flow out from within. The contents were several micro-vials arranged in the vague shape of a prothean cerebral cortex. Each vial containing microscopic traces of frozen cerebrovascular liquid.
She looked at the vials with an expression of excitement, as if she could not contain the glee forming inside her of what she is about to receive.
Ibrimeth would be far more cautious and fearful than anything else. Everyone who has ever being in contact with Lotris himself either died or went completely insane, usually forcing the later to be terminated for the safety of others.
He wanted to see the result of this mad wish of that witch.
He wanted to see them fail.
The witch's clone merged the vials under the Contact Union Shard and raised it, opening her mouth and extending her long tongue. The moment of truth had come.
She touched the Shard and she would scream as nightmares and horrors beyond the scope of imagination would ravage her mind into fragmented splinters, rending her into a deranged, berserker like trance that she would not, could not escape from. She would lash out and strike at her mind sisters and progenitor and in the process spill the contents of Lotris' cerebral fluids into all directions. Making contact with the others and therefore sending them into their own insane fits of horror and lunacy. Creating a cascading effect that would inevitably condemn the witches into irrecoverable dementia and insanity, forevermore silencing her and her vile deeds to the future of this galaxy.
This was as how it supposed to be and has always been whenever someone has made contact with the cursed blood and flesh of the mad warrior turned death incarnate that was Lotris Prat.
None of that happened.
There was no screaming, no yelling. Not a single sound.
Absolute silence permeated the chambers. A silence so deep and profound that Ibrimeth could hear his own heartbeat. Not a single being made a sound as they watched the replica of the Avatar of Flesh soundlessly stare into the high ceiling above with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated to such an extreme that would almost be seen as a sign of deep drug abuse. Yet, they could see it in her.
Everyone could.
Those were the eyes of someone who was witnessing something so awful that it became magnificent. There was pure awe radiating off her and even with the inhibitors in place and the myriad of shields against the witches' Touch… they could feel her reverence.
She blinked once, twice, thrice. Washing away the tears that were forming in her wide, dilated eyes.
Her grip became weak and the Shard fell from her hands into the floor with an audible click. The sound becoming as loud as a thunderclap with the all-consuming silence that permeated the chambers.
She saw it. She saw what they were. Undiluted and uncontained.
And her lips began to move. "The fall of a world into a Sea of Nightmares." She began and Ibrimeth shuddered at her voice which no longer resembled those of any prothean. A voice that flowed as smooth as water, tones as gentle as starlight, and yet hiding a deep darkness that would submerge all into oblivion. "Its return and with it, the coming of the Blessed Night.
The wars against the Beyond and the Dreaming Dead Precursors.
She whose Love had to commit Unending Genocide.
And the Sight of the End of all Ends they escaped. Six forms of glory. Two to guide. An equation of love and of life." She giggled, like the laughter of a small child. "It's magnificent."
Her hands extended as everyone high above stared in stunned silence. She had survived the ordeal and spread her arms to bestow the gift to all others. A chance that the Avatar of Flesh took with reverence and both progenitor and progeny held hands, before embracing in reverent bliss.
"What… what just happened?" Ibrimeth heard to his left and turned his shocked gaze to see all the wardens and researchers leaning on the glass panel, staring down at the event that had just unfolded.
"She actually managed to survive it…" Another said.
"And not become insane."
"You mean no more than what she already was."
"Look!"
Ibrimeth turned to the scene bellow and watched as clone and original stepped away. The Avatar of Flesh was smiling. Not a knowing smile. Not a fevered one. Not one of malice or of insanity. But one of calm serenity. Her head down in peaceful worship and her eyes closed.
But the tranquil silence passed and her head slowly craned up as her twinkling crimson red eyes opened and met the many researchers and wardens staring down at her with shock and morbid wonder.
Then her white lips parted. "The priestess summons her humble flock. Our purpose is here at long last."
Not a second later, the sound of a gunshot was heard.
----------------------------------LINE--------------------------
AN: I hope you like this chapter. If you see anything that needs correcting or change, please let me know.
And finally, like and comment. It sustains my muse.
- Location
- California
Hmm...
So Athame had her ppl already infiltrating the fscility?
So Athame had her ppl already infiltrating the fscility?