Shroud (Grey Goo game Shroud SI / Warhammer 40k)

[Drich]

I have a half a dozen other fucking threads. What do I choose to spend my time on?

This.

What lead to this? An idle thought, which went something along the lines of "What happens if you taken an eldritch parasite that eats energy, stick it into a dark setting that has infinite energy, and then sprinkle some Human mentality on top?". And then it didn't leave me alone. Several long nights spent brainstorming, and we're arriving at this. Send help.


Memoir

+++

What are they?

I have a lot of answers for that question. I could say that they were a parasite, relentlessly draining everything they touch, transforming it for their own use.

But if I were to say that, then I must call myself a parasite.

I could say that they are a civilization. They are numerous, apparently social among their own kind, and clearly work towards a higher goal.

But that's not accurate. They are numerous, but there is no individuality in them that separates them. For all their forms and design, each creature is of exactly the same mind, exactly the same will, with only the body to vary them. They are one creature, a living, thriving thing- but they are not a civilization.

I could say that they are a threat, and from the points of view of half the beings in the galaxy, that might even be true.

But if that was a valid qualifier, then everything in the galaxy is a threat, and if one judges threat by how much a creature is likely to hurt you, then these creatures would not be much of one. Certainly less so than most of the galaxy.

But, back to the question. What are they?

There is, unfortunately, no answer I can give you. I could tell you their nature, tell you what they do and give a basic idea of how they do it. That might seem enough, but it isn't.

When we first saw them, they were a jagged and shifting mass of darkness, twisting and changing and spreading. Now, they are organic silver, blue light, and crystalline orange, a horde of creatures rather than a singular mass. In both cases, speechless, faceless, and illusive.

That is their common theme. Little else unites them.

Mysterious creatures. The first name we gave them is quite appropriate, I think.

The Shroud.

 

[Drich]

1.1

+++

It was surprisingly hot in this portion of the planet. Hot and quiet.

It was good, to be honest. I appreciated both. The heat, I could drink deeply from, a bit of sustenance to take the edge off of me. The quiet, an inevitable result of my presence.

Except this quiet wasn't my own.

I observed my surroundings. Sand and cracked ground, behind me, a mostly flat plane that was dead and barren.

And in front, a city, at first glance. Tall buildings, glaring with skylight. Streets, constructed with efficient design. The delineation between city and surrounding desert was clear and stark.

Except, cities had people.

This place did not.

No city was quiet, like this. Hustle and bustle always made noise, yet there was nothing. The buildings were tall and bright, and the streets were well designed... Until you looked closer, and saw the cracks and melted pits in both.

Lifeless ruin had overtaken this city just as certainly as it had taken the desert that surrounded it. Search as hard you want, you won't find anything here.

Except...

That was a lie. I can taste it, hidden underneath the city. A pulsing thrum of power.

A jagged, yet continuous, oscillating pattern. Just enough variation to it even after that to clue me in that someone, something, is down there, using it.

The question was, who?

That's what I'm here to find out.

I move forward, gliding on legs and floating in the air, three or four hundred selves and bodies coordinated together. My sky-selves are fanning out, widening my sight and awareness.

Ground-selves have a different role, protecting the larger and more important Harvester-selves and Entity-self.

It's a bit of trouble to fit my Entity-self through these streets. They're narrow enough, with buildings tall enough, that I have to fold up the petals and limbs in order to pass through without crashing through the buildings. Still, I don't have to go far. Sky-selves spot an open area, probably a former park, and my Entity-self heads in that direction.

It's not particularly large. My Entity-self takes up nearly a third of the room. That's fine, though. I don't need the space at the moment.

My Entity-self settles, and opens, petals spreading wide, and limbs curling beneath it. The core opens last, blue light and energy spilling from within and shining brightly.

Only a moment later, a river of blue is pulled towards the core. The energy begins to fill my stomach, my reserves, which makes me happy. The trip here had been long, after all. The amount I'd brought with me had not been particularly diminished, but going so long without drawing in significant amounts of sustenance had been... uncomfortable.

Not that the food around here was what I could call... good, but it would do. Metals were often like that, as far more material sustenance went. Nearly all of them were dense, inert materials, not bad in its own right, but definitely time-consuming to process.

One Harvester-self climbs on top of a building, three long limbs and an odd relationship with gravity enabling it to more or less walk up the side. The building is a smaller one, wide and flat. My Harvester-self settles into place, and the three limbs lift off the ground, the core opening slightly.

Like my Entity-self, blue light spills out. Unlike it, however, the energy drain is much more focused. A vortex of blue energy begins to leech from the material beneath it, swirling together and upwards, into my Harvester-self.

Hmm. Primarily titanium and carbon, with trace amounts of other materials. A strange polymer structure, giving it a surprising amount of strength. Materially interesting, but ultimately...

Fragments of light drifted upwards, a spiralling groove appearing as the metal disintegrated. It was a slow, but steady, harvest.

But ultimately, nothing more than food at the moment. My Harvester-self consumed it, processing it into energy, concentrated that energy, and then redirected it towards my Entity-self. My reserves began to fill up- but again, materials like this were slow to harvest.

That's why I had as many Harvester-selves as I did. One was slow. Ten were faster.

The others settle into place one after the other, climbing buildings with careful gait. Once they do, they begin consuming their targets, ripping particles from atoms from molecules, all to feed my appetite.

And with that taken care of...

My sky-selves fan out, widening their flights in a spiralling path away from my Entity-self. I look through the city carefully, searching for signs of a disturbance that doesn't fit the rest of the city.

It could be easier. The maps I had access to before I came here were neither new nor precise. The general parts of it matched, though the specifics were a little off.

Case in point, there are more bunkers and underground entrances than there should be. It was easy to tell the new from the old, even without the benefit from the map. Time had worn away at both, but the older ones were artistically integrated with the city, bearing the same aesthetic and fitting in to logical, inoffensive places.

The newer ones, by contrast, lacked aesthetic. Little more than bricks engineered for maximum efficiency and accessibility, appearing frequently enough that anywhere in the city would have two or three available for quick access.

All of them that I can see are sealed shut. There are scratches and gouges on the doors and walls of the entrances.

Somebody had been eager, hadn't they...

Still, I continue my search. It takes only a few more minutes before my sky-selves stumble upon an anomaly. Another bunker much like the rest of the newer ones, but unlike them all, this one's doors aren't closed.

They're open. Not neatly, no; these doors had been forced open. Heavily scratched and damaged, with two deep impressions in the metal, bending it inwards, the depression itself shaped roughly in the form of hands...

I can imagine it, the course of events. Something large and strong had punched its way through, then forced the doors open with sheer power. The doors to a sanctuary, opened, and made vulnerable.

There is discoloration on the walls. Heat-marks, and more, long since aged into near-nothing... but not quite gone just yet.

Still... I had my way in, now, and that was all I needed. A quick glance at the sky showed chaotically shifting purple-pink, but the lack of faces within staring back at me indicated I probably wasn't going to be interrupted any time soon.

So, let's see... Who is it that's hiding here?

 

[Drich]

1.2

+++

The bunker's halls are wide and tall. The entrance is just about the smallest part of it all, really. A Human could fit through it easily, with no trouble at all. It's good.

Because my ground-selves barely fit, anyway. Only the smallest three types can get in, because an entrance that was large for Humans was a tight fit for most of me. My bodies are, for the moment, limited to Clashers, Mimics, and Howlers.

That wasn't a bad thing, per se. It cut my options quite a bit, but between the three, I had a fair share.

Probably more than I'd need, to be honest. That I hadn't caught a scent of life yet hinted at there not being much of it, down here.

...

Well, not anymore.

My Clasher-self comes to a corner. Lying in said corner is a pile of broken bones and long-rotten flesh. I don't spare it too much attention, that sight is one that isn't particularly uncommon, around here.

What is uncommon is the line of red-brown on the ground trailing away from it. It's blood, old blood, but...

Far newer than that of the bones. The bones had been there for decades, maybe centuries. The blood, maybe a few days at most.

Hmm. I inspect the area a bit more closely, looking around the blood. None, against the walls or ceiling. No marks, little smearing. It is, aside from its age, oddly clear and clean, in the marking it's making.

The list of potential suspects for who might be down here just shrunk significantly. I have a fairly good guess as to who.

A Mimic-self takes point, slightly faster than the rest of my bodies. I follow the direction of the blood, it and the pulsating thrum of power leading me to the source.

More corridors and corners pass, and more dessicated piles of bones, too. It might, perhaps, be more appropriate to call this bunker a charnel house.

With a Mimic-self in the lead, it doesn't take too much longer for me to find what I'm looking for. A scent of life...

It smells like Blood. Thick and coppery, imbedded with War, ancient, mindless violence. A prelude and a promise all in one. It's a scent I'm quite familiar with.

I hurry, moving as fast as I can with my bodies. Clasher-selves rush with deceptive speed. Mimic-selves dart through the air, the core of light at their centers shining with bright intent. Howler-selves charge, slightly faster than the Clasers, darting between their legs and towards the source of the scent.

Down a corridor, then another, and then a scream pierces the air, echoing through the halls. A bit of laughter follows it, and much lower, some chanting.

I don't slow. More corridors, more bodies... and a door, there, wrenched open. I can see malevolent red light shining from it, hear the jeering and mad laughter within, and I can feel the malice building, hanging in the air like putrid smoke.

I reach the door just in time to see a man shove a blade into the chest of another. It's a small blade, basically a knife, but it's glowing a baleful red, symbols etched all over it.

I'm correct in my guess.

There's eight men, standing in a circle. An eight-sided sigil is on the floor, drawn in blood, with seven bodies already on the floor, even as the eighth falls to join them. The eight men are wearing what might be generously called rags, skin covered in blood, with skulls hanging from their ruined clothes. Their scents speak of deep corruption, malice dripping from their bones.

There is, however, another person in the room. Another, much smaller figure, chained to the walls, covered in cloth and hanging limp.

It only takes me a moment to take it all in. One of the figure's heads is just turning towards my Mimic-self. Still, there's no opportunity to react before the next event takes place.

I can feel it. The malice in the air reaches a crescendo as the body falls. Raw bloodlust taints the world-

And then reality inverts. Power and corruption spill into existence with a crack of red lightning, right in the center of the ritual star. The taste of blood grows stronger, and with a horrific shriek, something appears.

It's red, and tall. A head with two horns to either side, and face like evil made manifest. Muscular and dangerous, a fact reinforced by the fact that it's wielding a massive flaming sword almost as long as the creature was tall in one hand.

Two burning orange eyes glare at me, and a mouth full of sharp teeth opens to screech.

I charge forwards, and all that I can think of this horror is that it's nice to finally get some good food.

My Mimic-self smashes into the Daemon, limbs angled forwards, knocking it backwards, into one of the cultists. The other seven are quick to draw their weapons, but none are quick enough to do so before a pair of Howler-selves come through the door. Their cores open wide, blue light gathering before shooting out as an arcing ball of energy. The grenades explode on contact, a wave of concussive force and heat knocking every single one of them off their feet and leaving significant burns. None are dead, not yet, but none are in a position to interfere anymore.

The Daemon screeches, swinging its sword in a wide arc. My Mimic-self takes the blow as I refrain from moving out of the way, shifting limbs together. The sword punctures through two of the limbs, but not all the way. Light-blood leaks out, but my Mimic is still alive, and so, I wrap the rest of the limbs around the blade to hold it in place.

The Daemon tries to pull back, but the rough edge of the blade works against it. If it had the time, it probably could have, but it didn't. The two Howler-selves dart up to it, jumping with open cores. The four extrusions surrounding the open core act, in this case, like clamps, closing around the arms of the Daemon, dragging it down and backwards to the ground. Again, the Daemon screeches, but this time, it can't do anything about it.

My Clasher-self enters the room a moment later. I waste no time, moving towards the Daemon. My Clasher-self's arms rise, and I plunge down. The tips at the end of those arms puncture through red skin, making it roar in pain.

I attack. Light pours from the arms of my Clasher-self, a scintillating wave of vitality-breaking power. The light burns at the Daemon's skin, and then shatters it, red flesh disintegrating into a mist of pink-purple-red, raw corruption and energy.

Dangerous stuff. These were energies that could and would twist everything it came into contact with. The slightest touch could easily mutate flesh and bone and metal.

I was none of those things.

I reach out, and take hold of it. The Daemon screams, sensing now the danger that I pose to it. Swirling corruption mist settles in as I pull it to myselves, and the corruption flows towards my bodies, drawn in like a vacuum. I absorb it, biting down on the corruption, and the corruption screams, literally, with a sound that defies sense and reality.

I chew. The corruption tries to fight back, energies shifting and changing and mutating to find a blade to stab my throat, but it's a futile effort. It tastes vaguely like the concept of war, though the texture is oddly like bubblegum. It doesn't make much sense, but that's why it's important to chew one's food. Chewing forces it into something a bit more manageable, and, inevitably, closer to the ultimate goal.

The Daemon disintegrates a bit more, spilling into more and more corruption, bleeding more and more of its essence. Sensing an impending death, it tries to escape, its power shifting and changing, reality twisting as the veil thins...

But I don't let it. I reach deeper, grasping with more than my physical shells. Tendrils of my mind grip the Daemon, and I bind barbed chains into its soul, the true essence of its existence. Food, after all, is not allowed to run. It screams, and screeches, and tries to fight back-

And then I shatter it with a final pulse of light and will. The soul breaks, fragmenting into disconnected concepts. A little bit more chewing, and then...

I swallow. Screaming corruption falls to Silence, and settles within my stomach. Digestion is quick, energy processed and made... more useful. I spare some to heal my Mimic, knitting its energy-structure back together, but that barely puts a dent in what I've gained.

I'm left with a distinctly happy feeling of a good meal.

My bodies rise, even as the rest enter the room.

But I'm not done yet. Still eight more, after all.

And it's very important to finish one's food.

 

[Drich]

Status update: 1.3 soon to arrive... in 8-9 hours. To tide you over until then, you get this. Some hints at lore and foreshadowing, all in one. I wonder how many details you'll pick up on.



Multi-User-Mainframe: Database // Tak Records // The Shroud // Primer

+++

What to say about the Shroud. It's an odd thing, escaping easy definition and analysation, seemingly delighting in defying classification. It changes, with time, with the environment, with exposure to life, such that it's near impossible to truly pin down what it is.

I have spent many years studying the Shroud, its actions and abilities. This time has lent me insight and knowledge of the Shroud, though such things are far from complete. Still, I am compelled now to share it.

For ease of access, the totally of these documents and insights have been compiled under the title of 'Tak Records'. I will ask in advance for your forgiveness, for I have a tendency to ramble.

At the moment, the Shroud is a living organism, with many forms and shapes and bodies. While it remains an ever-changing thing, adapting to circumstances and development, some shapes are so efficient that the Shroud reuses them often.

For all its bodies, the Shroud shares a few traits between them. Typically, any given form would be aesthetically composed of smooth silver, organic black, crystalline orange, and solid blue light. All Shroud lifeforms possess at least a modicum of shape-changing abilities, though this is typically minor and large changes to a body do not occur.

Additionally, all Shroud lifeforms are capable of manipulating energy, though the scale and degree of this ability varies. Almost all of them can absorb heat, and as a result are cool to the touch. Absorption of electrical energies is also quite common. Specific details on most other types of energies will come later, but I'll have to put the notes for one down here and now.

Warp Energy is the Shroud's favoured food. All Shroud lifeforms have the ability to absorb it, without exception, which typically results in rapidly expanding Shroud presences. Curiously, despite the evident ability to interact with Warp Energies, the Shroud also lack a presence in the Warp, and cannot draw energy from it without an intermediary or said Warp Energy already being inside realspace.

Even more curiously, the Warp itself seems to reject the presence of the Shroud. I've noted several attempts by the Shroud to enter the hellspace proper, and all have resulted in the Warp spitting the Shroud back out violently. This is a fact that brings incredible terror to me, as one of the implications of this is that the Warp might have some greater awareness to it, and is therefore actively defending itself. There are other, less frightening implications and explanations, but if all my years have taught me anything, it's that universe we live in is not that kind.

Aside from that, specific notes have to be made for any given lifeform.

But all of that gives no hint at what the Shroud is. What is the base substance of the Shroud?

That... has a strange answer. The Shroud is the Shroud, alive, but not formed from the same materials as anything else. All other known life is formed of a few basic things; realspace has elementary particles such as leptons and bosons forming subatomic particles forming atoms forming molecules forming the base structure of life. Creatures of the Warp are formed of its energy, chaotic and ever-different, but all share the same structure. Power, concepts, emotion, congealed into an entity with its own will.

The Shroud defies this. Among the entire known universe, the Shroud is utterly unique. It is not composed of matter formed by basic elementary particles, nor from the concepts and energy of the Warp. It is not dark energy, not some extremely esoteric set of physics. The Shroud, instead, is...

The Shroud. Some type of energy, anomalous in all respects, self-organising, self-directing, self-changing, and self-defined. It chooses whether or not it has mass, chooses how it interacts with other energies, chooses how to move, and is free to change this at any time it wishes. It is not omnipotent, and not every change is efficient, but it is an impossible thing made utterly real.

There's no name for it other than 'Shroud Energy'.

Where it came from, nobody knows. How it got here, much the same. What it does, however, has an answer. The Shroud is life, and like all life, it seeks to spread. Shroud Energy, see, can transform other types of energy into more of itself. It has a rather generous definition of 'energy', which includes matter, energy, data, Warp energy, emotion, souls, life... Only nonexistence itself seems to be able to escape it. The Shroud could be a great parasite, relentlessly draining all reality of all that exists.

But, here is a bit of fortune: The Shroud understands restraint. And, perhaps even more than that, sustainability. In realspace, the amount of energy is stupendously large, but ultimately limited. However long it would take, the Shroud expands exponentially; and will inevitably cover it all, if it so wished. But, it doesn't.

Because the Warp does not share that limitation. And, while the Shroud lacks the ability to draw from it...

We don't.

Given that, is it any wonder why the Shroud treats us as it does?

 

[Drich]

1.3

+++

A Daemon is a creature of energy and concept, and a Bloodletter specifically a creature of war. Blood and violence.

It knows violence. Knows fighting. Its very existence is combat.

Eight normal cultists, even if mutated by the touch of Chaos, do not. They're corrupt, all of them, right to the deepest levels, a fact which I can taste. They're completely in the grip of Chaos, and whoever they were before, what they are now is a bunch of murderous madmen worshipping evil.

It's over quickly. Knocked down, and limited by mere flesh, I kill them quickly, and do to them the exact same thing I did to the Daemon they summoned. I pull their souls in, rending them down into raw energy as I drink it in...

They're not Daemons. Not nearly as filling. The energy I can draw from them is a pittance, in comparison.

Still, it only leaves two things to do.

I turn a Clasher-self to the wall, where the figure is chained. All of them reach under the cloth they're covered with, clinking gently as the figure shifts, slightly. They're suspended off the ground, arms to the side, yet, there's four chains. I can hear shallow, laboured breathing.

I examine the figure. I can taste... corruption, yes, but not a significant amount. More passive, rather than active... born from overexposure to Chaos, rather than acceptance of it.

Hmm. There might still be hope.

I move closer, reaching out. The three pincers at the end of the arm shift, narrowing into a longer, needle-like shape. The cloth seems to come in four pieces, so I carefully reach under the cloth over the head, pushing it up and back.

Matted hair greets me, blood and dirt both. It's roughly cut, long in some places and short in others. I can't even tell what colour it is, it's covered in so much refuse. The face...

Is young.

One eye is swollen shut, purple-black. On the cheeks is a symbol of Chaos, branded on the skin. A few teeth are missing, and others cracked. Lips... chapped and cracked, broken skin marked with sores and blood.

And yet... the other eye is still open. The veins are pronounced, leaving the whites remarkably red, but the rest...

Green. And looking at my Clasher-self with unbroken will. Glaring, in defiance.

Misplaced, directed at me.

Hmm... It's hard to tell, but the structure of the cheeks lends an impression of femininity. Carefully, I peel another layer of cloth back. She's dressed in rags underneath, but the rags are loose enough that it's no trouble to tell that she is indeed a she.

Below the neck is a collar, wrapped tightly around the neck. The chain isn't loose. If she hung her neck, it'd choke her. A basic, and easy, torture, needlessly cruel.

I pull back my pincers, the shape of them shifting again, into a more flexible, shorter claw like arrangement. I thread a claw around the hinge, taking care not to jostle the collar.

Her jaw clenches, staring with contempt.

Light spills forth, and I focus it. The collar glows, and then disintegrates, the hinge falling apart into base materials. The pieces fall to the ground, and she breathes a little easier. Still, there are welts, and bruises in the shape of fingers, and more. Her skin told a tale, one that few wanted to hear.

I can see the inside of the collar, too.

Barbed.

You know, I think I might have spent too much time around the results of Chaos cults. This used to drive me to such rage. All this is bringing up in me now is a feeling of resigned anger.

I reach up, pressing the flat of my claw against her cheek. She's warm, positively feverish. In what is certainly an unconscious movement, she leans against it, desperate for the coolness.

She's confused, now. Not quite knowing what I want. I'd guess... she's lived a harsh life for long enough that she doesn't know what to do when somebody isn't trying to hurt her.

Being completely honest, she probably doesn't even recognize that I'm not trying to hurt her.

Poor girl.

...

Yet, still... It's odd, that she's survived this long, with her will still intact. Champions many times her age had broken in the face of Chaos, men and women alike. There must be something special about her...

Especially if this cult was keeping her around, after summoning a Daemon.

Hmm.

I pull back, and her head follows before jerking back as she realizes what she's doing, a sudden note of fear entering her eyes...

My claws shift again, becoming flat tipped. I press them against her sternum, and she swallows. For a moment, nothing happens, but then a wave of light ripples down the pincer. It's slow, crawling across the smooth silver, but inevitable. It reaches her skin, and continues flowing, the light pulsing through her own body.

My energy pulsing through her body. I'm gentle, as I examine. She's not healthy; starved, dehydrated, sleep-deprived, a definite fever, muscles strained and weakened, heart pulsing slowly... She could get better, given the appropriate medical care.

But aside from that, nothing special.

I probe deeper, reaching beneath the flesh. I touch her soul, and then, I understand.

She's a Psyker. Not a realized one, not yet, but the latent potential is there, her soul strong, and the connection to the Warp wider than most.

That also explains why she has so little Corruption in her, despite being surrounded by it. A strong rejection, worn at by sheer time and exposure. Her wounds are many, but none of them too deep or scarring.

And just like that, she's valuable. I'd have helped her regardless, but now... Psykers were an incredible resource, to me.

My Entity-self makes the preparations; energy warping and twisting, forming the core of a matrix, the embryo of another body. This one, however, has a special purpose, nothing so normal as the rest of mine.

It takes a few seconds to form. I transmit it from my Entity-self to my Clasher-self, and from there...

I, gently, push it inside of her being. The embryo glides along the same path as the rest of my energy, and I nestle it into the core of her being, where the body meets the soul. I feed it energy, and it begins to grow, blooming into life, a fragment of my being inside of hers...

It wraps around her soul, small tendrils at first, but quickly turning into an armoured shell. Where it finds corruption, it makes a quick cut, severing it from the rest of her. She twitches as it happens, but it's a necessity. Left alone, it will fester.

Besides, souls are like livers. They regenerate. Eventually. So long as there's enough of it left, anyway.

The cut off pieces of corruption are shortly consumed, used to fuel its own growth. The process takes minutes, but it happens easily. I've got a lot of experience, here.

The shell completes, and she's mostly safe, then, against further predation. But the embryo isn't done, there. It taps into her Soul, into the connection between her being, and the power that she had the potential to command. The Warp connects to her, and as such...

Through her, the embryo has a source of energy that won't deplete. Through her, it draws upon that energy and consumes it, using it to maintain itself and fuel its own growth.

Satisfied, I cut the energy I had been feeding it. Time will fuel the rest of its growth, just as time will heal the wounds that corruption has inflicted on her.

I pull back, no longer touching her skin.

She's still staring at me, but her eyes are beginning to unfocus. She's tired, after all, and without the collar to keep her awake through pain and choking...

I raise an arm, gather energy, and fire a breaking-wave. The other three chains binding her to the wall shatter like so much glass, and she falls to the ground.

I catch her, of course, in the other arm. I shift, and she's nestled into the crook of my arm against my chest, a wall of cool pleasantness to help keep her fever down. The other three shackles are revealed in the process, two around her arms and one around her stomach. Those, too, are quickly removed, with nothing left to hurt her. I pause for a moment to recover the cloth that had covered her, and I take care to wrap it around her neatly and softly.

Her head lulls back, and she stares up. She tries to stay awake, shaking periodically, but it's a futile effort. She falls asleep in moments, lulled by a lack of ongoing pain.

My Clasher-self moves out of the room, smooth movements to prevent any jostling. I take her upstairs, out into the city. The air is thick and stuffy, down here.

First thing, done.

Now, where is that reactor?

 

[Drich]

1.4

+++

I'd been well on my way back by the time the girl woke up again. She'd slept for fourteen hours straight. It was fortunate that she awoke when she did, because I was just passing a spring full of nice, cool, clear water.

The girl was still a mess, but better than she was before. The life I had planted in her being had seen to that; leaking a little bit of the energy it had gained from harvesting the Warp energy she provided access to, soothing aches and sores. It wasn't much, not at this stage, not so early in their combined development, but every little bit helped.

Especially because she was still starved and dehydrated.

That... would take longer to treat than her wounds.

I had some food and water that I'd... recovered from the cultists, seeing as they had no use for it, but starvation and dehydration were tricky conditions. You couldn't just shove food and water into people; too much could very easily cause more problems as their bodies weren't prepared or capable of handling it. You had to space it, carefully.

Which I had. The girl was skittish, and tense, but she didn't resist when my Clasher-self brought her food and water. I was hardly a medical professional, even after all this time, but I didn't need to be when the life I'd planted inside of her gave me direct insight to the state of her body, and a relatively precise idea of what she could handle.

After she was fed and watered, I'd then had to clean her up. All the dirt and blood she was covered in was doing her no favours, after all.

That hadn't been too difficult. Or, at least, she was a lot more cooperative after she'd been fed and watered. Initial reluctance had been present, though it had faded after gentle coaxing.

She was quite pale, underneath all that dirt and mud. A pallid, unhealthy colour. The hair was a dark shade of brown, and I'd wager it'd look pretty with some more proper care.

Cleaning her wounds had been... a more tense affair. I'd been careful, of course, wiping the blood away with careful strokes of torn cloth, but she had been... a little sensitive. Twitching, minutely, with every wipe, grimacing as she did... Binding the wounds had been worse, but she'd soldiered through it.

Once she was done and clean, I'd continued on my journey. I'd put her on top of my Entity-self, where the gentle and smooth floating created a ride free of jostling. She hadn't done much, mostly laying against a petal, out of direct skylight, and staring at her surroundings.

Which... was fine, really.

Wasn't too much further to go. And technically, further for her than it was for me, as she also had to cross the physical distance.

Me... Not so much.

I sense it, the moment before it happens. A presence, Silent, and oh so familiar. I reach out to it, just as it reaches out to me. I am enveloped, and I envelop in turn. Awareness expands, memories fold together, and then...

And then, finally, blissfully, I'm whole. My mind no longer cast in two reflections. There's only one of me on the planet, now. It's good.

It was necessity, and necessity alone, that had driven the split in the first place.

Hmm. My mirror-self had experienced more time than the rest of me. Well, inconsistencies like that were unavoidable, on this planet. And aside from that...

The direction of that Entity-self shifts, slightly, minor enough to be unnoticeable to the only one around to witness it. I make a few changes to my planning, the return of this Entity-self and the attendant bounty of energy that had been brought back accelerating some goals. And, of course, there was my Entity-self itself to consider; another nexus of energy gathering efforts...

Of course, I'll have to drop the girl off first. And make sure she receives more proper care...

Would I have the time?

I look at the sky. Purple-pink was still shining brightly, so dusk would come in... probably a few hours, assuming that it darkened at the usual rate. Not always a guarantee, especially this close to full moon...

I should have the time. If it speeds by too quickly, then I'll have to arrange faster transportation, but until then...

Nothing to do but wait, I guess.

+++

Two and a half hours pass, in silence. The girl has begun to yawn, though she's staying awake nonetheless. Perhaps a good thing, considering... She'd have awoken in a strange place with no clue what's going on, if she had.

We arrive at the base of a cliff, a sudden upheaval of rock. It's large, utterly massive...

But, where she's going is something my Entity-self can't follow. I stop at the foot of the cliff, and the girl jolts. Suddenly, she's at full attention, looking at her surroundings carefully.

I have a sky-self approach her, and carefully take her off of my Entity-self. She grips tightly against the sky-self, and only lets go when she's delivered into the waiting arms of my Clasher-self.

I waste no time. Dusk will come shortly. My Entity-self moves off, accompanied by the rest of my bodies- all except for my Clasher-self holding the girl.

That one instead heads to the cliff face, approaching solid rock. The girl seems confused, and holds up an arm in front of her when I don't slow- only to draw in a sudden breath as my Clasher-self walks into, and then through, the rock.

She shifts, trying to look back, and gets a view of a rippling wave of white-grey hexagrams reconstituting into what would appear to be solid rock.

Holograms. Such a useful thing, when you're trying to hide.

The cave on the other side of the holographic wall is quite large, more than enough to fit my Clasher-self. It's not particularly well-lit, but the glowing light of said Clasher-self provides enough to see.

One quick look at the cave showed that it was unnatural, too smooth and regular to be anything but. I follow the path for a short distance, before making a turn to the right and passing through another holographic wall, coming to face a large, dark grey, metal door. It's large, and thick, heavier than even the bunker doors back at the ruined city.

My Clasher-self approaches, releasing a pulse of energy into the air. The doors flash with blue sigils, and then open, slowly.

In my arms, the girl's hands clench tightly, knuckles paling to white. A sudden, sharp note of fear strikes through her soul. The reason is simple; because on the other side of the doors is a person.

He's pretty tall. Wearing loose and relatively thin robes, doing little to hide the blue life-light emanating from his chest. He raises an eyebrow, upon seeing my Clasher-self, and the bundle of cloth in my arms, holding the girl.

"Ah." He hums. "So, that's why I was called here." He uncrosses his hands, and the red crosses on his sleeves become easily visible. "Well, let's get her to the hospital, shall we?"

 

[Drich]

1.5

+++

"A cult victim." He frowns. "Lacerations, dehydration, starvation, sores, welts, bruises, choking, swelling, branding... And a significant amount of signs showing evidence of other pointless torture. And that's just what my eyes can see, to say nothing of my instruments."

The girl doesn't respond, still staring at the man with a wary gaze. She's seated on a bed, in a clean, disinfected white room. There's a variety of medical instruments around, and the girl has positioned herself so that my Clasher-self is directly between her and all of them, half hiding.

"I honestly didn't think there were any non-cultists left on this planet, other than us." He mused. "You're quite fortunate you were found, do you know that?"

She continues staring at him.

He sighs, then reaches over to tap at a console. A few moments later, a recess on the wall opens, a small cup inside. The cup itself is filled with golden liquid, and the man takes it, holding it out to the girl. "Here."

She doesn't move to take it. Her eyes simply flick to the cup, and then back to him, staring in suspicion.

"It will make you feel better." He said, swirling it slightly.

Her eyes narrow.

I reach out, taking the cup in three pincers. One pincer on the other hand shifts, changing into a spoon-like shape, and I dip it in, drawing out a small amount of the golden fluid.

I turn, offering the small amount to her. She, in turn, looks at me, looks roughly where my face would be if I had one, before hesitantly opening her mouth.

I tip. She swallows, clearly considering it. When I offer the cup again, she takes it, and starts to drink it, several slow sips.

He tuts. "Can't talk and still better at convincing people to do things for their own good than me. That... That cuts."

She looks back at him. And then she blinks, her hand coming up to her cheek.

With a golden glow, the scarred brand on her begins to twist, burns giving way to renewed flesh. On her neck, over her body, small lacerations and bruises begin to fade, disappearing even as we watch. The swelling over her other eye begins to recede, purple-black turning back into pale, but significantly healthier skin.

As I listen, I can hear her breathing get a bit easier.

"What?"

"Ah, so you do have a voice. I was wondering." He smirks. "Feeling better?"

She glares at him, bringing her hand up to her throat. She rubs, carefully feeling the skin. She opens her mouth, and her voice is... halting, at first. And still a little quiet. "What was that?"

"Nanobot mass combined with a bioregenerative solution." He answers, clinically. "Fixes most wounds, primes the body to receive nutrients en masse, and will help you with a quick recovery." He smiles, a bit more softly. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? You don't have to answer them, if you don't want to."

She stares at him, but after a glance at my Clasher-self, answers. "Only if I get some questions."

"Easy." He nods. "Let's get the basics out of the way. I am Doctor Adrien Berin. I am the Chief of Medical Operations of Sanctuary, and therefore the person that those ones-" He gestures at my Clasher-self. "- go to bother whenever they pick up a stray. Like you, for example." He smiles again. "So how many of your questions did I just answer?"

She stares at him as if he's strange. Which he is, so she's not wrong to do so.

He chuckles. "Let me guess. You have three more; 'What is Sanctuary?', 'What are those guys?', and 'What happens now?'."

Her eyes narrow, a little more cautious. Seeing that, he dips his head, grabbing a chair and pulling it over. He takes a seat, adopting a notably more serious and gentle expression.

"Sanctuary is our home." He says, slowly. "About the only portion of this entire planet that's safe from Empyrean incursion. It's the last bastion of true civilization left." He smiles. "As to 'What are those guys?'... There's a lot of answers I could give, not many of them particularly satisfying. The most important thing, I feel, is that they are the saviours of every single person in Sanctuary, yourself now included."

She blinks.

"I'm going to take a guess." He says, looking at her. "You were... a part of a tribe. A small one. Not much more than your family and a few others. You wandered around with the few scraps of technology you had left, trying to eke out a life. You were probably hounded by the corrupt and mutated the entire time, always only a few steps from death." He sighs, straightening up. "And then... hmm. Your tribe ran into something. Probably a large group of cultists, and you alongside most of them were captured. Cultists did as cultists do, and enacted rituals and corruption on all of you. Many of your fellows died, but you... Not you. Sheer defiance and a will to live let you survive, even after everything the cults did to you. Then, these ones found you,-" He points at me, again. "- killed the cultists, and took you with them to bring you here."

Her eyes are wide.

He nods. "Yeah. Thought so." He stands up, moving to the console again. "'Round here, there's a lot of people sharing that story. Not everyone. A good amount of the kids that are running around in here were born here, and haven't known that harsh life out there. Some of the older people have been here since before the Bright Night." He taps at the console, and again, the recess opens. There's another cup, but this one contains a steaming, light brown liquid.

He offers it to her, smiling. After a moment, she takes it, sniffing it.

"That's a nutrient slurry mixed with chocolate for flavour." He explains. "Drink up, kiddo. Your metabolism will kick into overdrive pretty soon, and you'll be quite hungry."

She looks at him over the drink. "Not a kid. I'm fourteen."

I'd have pegged... maybe 10, to be honest. Malnutrition at work, I guess.

Adrien just shrugs. "And I'm forty eight. You're a kid to me."

She frowns at him, but takes a sip. Her eyes widen, and she quickly begins to drink.

"So..." He begins. "What's your name, girl?"

She swallows, before answering. "Juliana."

He nods. "Well then, Juliana. It's nice to meet you."

He directs a glance at my Clasher-self, still unmoving. An eyebrow raises, and he looks back at the girl. She's looking down at the moment, focused on her drink. It means that she doesn't see his eyes flash with the same blue light that emanates from the core of my Clasher-self, from so many other of my bodies, and from his own chest.

He raises an eyebrow, seeing, for a moment, into more than just the physical world. Which means he can see the armour wrapping around her soul, the life lingering within.

He knows what it is. After all, he, like so many others in Sanctuary, are no different.

"Hmm."

She looks up, but by the time that she has, his eyes have returned to normal.

"And as for that final question..." He considers. "I make sure you're as well as I'm capable of making you, and then... I think we can find a place for you here in Sanctuary. If the Shroud brought you here, you must be quite something."

She looks up. "Shroud?"

"That's what we call them." He shrugs. "Now, finish your drink. We can get you some real food after you're done, how does that sound?"

She promptly tips it back, swallowing the last. Adrien chuckles.

"Some clothes, too." He notes to himself, before smiling.

"Welcome to Sanctuary, Juliana." He stands up. "It's all we've got left of a sane and good world."

 

[Drich]

1.6

+++

I'll admit, I never did get tired of that little spark of wonder that appeared in the eyes of those who saw Sanctuary for the first time. It was rare enough, these days, after so many years on this world, with the number of still-sane outsiders dropping ever lower.

Juliana stared with wide eyes, at everything in her surroundings. I'd wager she'd never seen anything like it.

On this world, there wasn't anything like it.

Sanctuary was a little spot of heaven. A massive underground complex, filled to the brim with beautiful, futuristic white, silver, and dark grey architecture. Light came from a series of massive bars at the top, glowing with gentle power. It was cleaner and clearer than the light of the outside, nourishing instead of sickening. Spots of green were integrated with the white, silver, and dark grey, parks and gardens that meshed with the architecture to enhance it, give a little bit more nature.

And of course, the people.

There were so many people down here. Thirty five million, the last time I checked. All... existing together, creating a hustle and bustle of life, easily visible all over. People walking together, talking together, fit and healthy, families with children and friends with friends. People living and enjoying life. The life-lights shone bright with joy, here.

I'd be surprised if Juliana had ever seen more than a few hundred people in her entire life. She looked around, all over the place, as we walked. One of her hands was gripped tightly around my pincer, one of the few signs of her nervousness around so many people.

Here, my presence stuck out. My bodies rarely entered Sanctuary proper, after all. People were glancing at me, children in the parks gathered at fences while they stared openly. I was used to the attention. Pretty much everybody here owed me their lives either directly or indirectly, after all.

None tried to stop us, though. Adrien lead us away from the main court, passing down a thinner side street. Tucked away in a nice little corner was a door, which he pushed open.

The door was fairly tall, but I did have to step sideways through it to fit.

The inside of the building was that of a restaurant. The style was quite a bit older, though, with nice wooden floors and solid, well-built chairs with cushioning.

Real wood, too. Nice. Didn't see this kind of aesthetic often.

Which made it contrast even more with the one who was inside.

They were immediately and obviously not Human. The body was a series of smooth white plates and parts, interlocking and connecting together to form the rough shape of a man. The body was mostly hollow, but the plates didn't hide the life-light within. The face was the exception to the colour scheme, with a black, shaped piece formed up of hexagons, a network of lights shining within them.

The head tipped upwards, the lights concentrating to give an impression of eyes focusing. That, however, was for the benefit of the two Humans present, not something true.

"You bring in the strangest of guests." The voice was smooth, calm and cultured. And despite the fact that its owner was mechanical, there was precious little indication of such a fact.

Juliana stared at it with open confusion, but Adrien just laughed. "Turing, you almost sound unhappy to see me."

"This is a restaurant, Adrien. It is not the registry area for new citizens, nor the manufacturing district." Turing replied. "Given your position, one might be excused for thinking you would have an idea of proper procedure."

Adrien shrugged, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "If I went through all of that, she'd starve, so I'd figure I'd get some actual food, first. Just a snack for me, though."

Turing released a sigh, but nevertheless complies, grabbing a series of knives, forks, and spoons. He handed all of them to Adrien. "The usual, then?"

Adrien nodded. "Some soup for her, too. Smaller portions, so her stomach can handle it. She needs to rebuild her mass."

"Shall I also go fetch a Vortex Device for your Shroud companion?" Turing manages to sound sarcastic.

"Oh, that one isn't here for food."

I mean, I wouldn't say no to it...

But, yeah, it's true.

Turing pauses, looking back at Juliana. "Of course. Your food will be ready shortly. Your table, as always, is ready for you." And with, he turns around, heading into another room. In the brief moment the door is open, I can see a clean and sterile kitchen.

Adrien heads off to the corner, where a fairly wide table awaits him. There is, at the moment, nobody else in the restaurant.

He takes a seat, and Juliana follows shortly after. I, meanwhile, just stand to her side.

The silence hangs for a few moments, before Juliana breaks it.

"Was..." Her voice trails off, and she clears her throat. "Was that... a Man of Iron?"

Adrien blinks. "Man of- Oh, no- no no no. Not Iron, dear. Turing back there is a Valiant-class Man of Stone." He stresses the word. "But, I'm surprised you've heard of such a thing."

From the kitchen, I can taste a sudden spike in heat.

Juliana shrugs, before looking away. "Grandpa... used to tell stories about life before the Collapse." There's a note of pain in her voice. A bit of hurt, in the soul.

"Ah." Adrien nods, slowly. "Yes, that would do it." He leans in, and with the air of someone telling a secret, speaks. "Turing is really old. He's been around for three thousand years."

Her eyes go wide.

"It's true." He nods, seeing the look, before leaning back. "The funny part is, he's not even the oldest one around. Ol' Singleton was one of the first generation of Valiants, and that guy is somewhere around ten thousand."

Her jaw drops.

He laughs.

Turing chooses that exact moment to emerge from the kitchen, balancing a plate, a bowl, and a glass of water on one arm. The plate has a relatively normal sandwich, but the bowl has a thick, orange broth full of meat and vegetables, steaming softly and well cooked despite the fact that it couldn't have been more than a minute since Turing had gone in.

Hmm. And it's well heated all the way through, consistent. That heat spike, from before... Probably a thermal ray, tuned low, then.

I suppose that a Man of Stone would have the precision that one would need to cook using a thermal ray.

...

If, indeed, he'd cooked, and not just had it nanoformed from feedstock.

Didn't matter in the end, I suppose.

One sniff of the food, and Juliana's attention is immediately captured. She picks up a spoon, dips it in, sips at it, and then promptly starts eating with great fervour.

Adrien smiles, before taking a bite of his own sandwich.

Several minutes pass in silence. Adrien eats slowly, content to enjoy the meal. Juliana, despite the much larger portion, still finished up around about the same time as he does. She licks her lips, looking up. Her face is a bit messy, so I grab a napkin and hand it to her.

As she cleans herself up, she looks back at Adrien. Her eyes dip to his chest, briefly focusing on the light. Again, a hint of confusion.

She opens her mouth, closes it, considering what to say. She spends a few moments thinking about it, and then clearly comes up with the only appropriate words. "Why are you wearing a glowstick?"

 

[Drich]

1.7

+++

He coughs, laughing. It takes him a moment to calm down. "This light isn't a glowstick, Juliana."

Her head tilts to the side, clearly waiting for him to continue.

"It's an indicator, see." He says, undoing a few buttons on his coat. He pulls it open, revealing a small part of his chest.

And, more importantly, the light emanating from a small point of it. It's a soft blue, and as Juliana turns, she realizes that it's exactly the same colour as the light that radiates from my Clasher-self.

He's already buttoning his coat back up by the time she turns back. "It's a sign of a bond."

"Bond?"

He nods. "How much do you know about the Empyrean?"

"It's evil." She says, immediately. "Makes people go crazy. Spits Daemons at us."

He nods. "Yeah, that's pretty accurate. Pretty basic, though." He grabs a napkin, ripping it in half. One is folded neatly into a small square, while the other is haphazardly scrunched into a ball. "Alright, let's give an actual explanation. This our universe." He holds up the square. "And this is the Empyrean." He holds up the ball. "Our universe is a place of logic, scientific rules. The Empyrean is a place of emotion, energy, utter chaos. Our universe is nice and ordered, and the Empyrean is just a huge mess. However, the Empyrean and everything that comes from it is basically made out of energy, and the Shroud?" He straightens up. "They eat energy."

She looks at me.

"And let me tell you, they love the taste of the Empyrean." He continues. "Nothing gets their attention quicker than the Empyrean and the things that come from it. If they could, they'd be eating it constantly, but the Empyrean doesn't react well to them, so they can't." He puts the ball down. "Not directly, anyway. Now, you're aware that Daemons like to come out of their little hell and eat us, and I just told you that the Shroud likes to eat them, but what you probably don't know is that the reason Daemons like to eat us is because Humans have a connection to the Empyrean."

She rears back, seeming horrified by the concept.

"Well, it's not unique to Humans. All life in our universe has a connection to the Empyrean, with a few exceptions." He grabs a knife, spearing the small square, before also spearing the ball.

"Can we get rid of it?" She leans forwards.

"No." Adrien says, flatly. "This connection exists within the soul, and is very difficult to break. Even if it is broken, it does nothing good. The lucky ones die outright." He puts the knife down. "The connection makes life vulnerable to things in the Empyrean, but the thing is, it's a two-way connection. And in this case, it's one that the Shroud can exploit. By using us as a conduit, they can pull in energy from the Empyrean, more or less forever."

"Infinite food..."

"Yep." He nods. "Because of that, they protect us, shelter us, help us survive, and keep us safe from the Empyrean."

She nods, slowly. "Then, that light is them using you?"

He waves a hand. "Sort of. See, in order to actually use us as conduits, the Shroud has to implant us with a bit of itself."

She looks at him askance. "That doesn't sound good."

"Not when it's put like that, no." He acknowledges. "It's not what you're imaging; not a physical implantation. The Shroud is energy, and the thing it implants is also energy; immaterial and non-physical. It's a bit of Shroudlife, but nothing that will hurt you."

She takes a drink. "Still doesn't sound nice."

"And if I told you it made you immune to madness?" Adrien asked, getting her attention. "That it strengthens the body, heals wounds, even lets a person go without needing food or drink?"

She stares at him. "I'd say you were telling stories."

He shrugs, grabbing the knife. He flicks the napkins off of it, before reversing his grip.

Juliana just about jumps out of her skin when he promptly stabs his own hand, only for the knife to scrape off with a metallic shriek.

He holds out his hand, showing it to her. Unharmed, blue light crawling over the skin before fading.

"Okay." She sits back, releasing a loud breath. "It sounds better, now."

He smirks. "Told ya." He puts the knife down again. "These particular Shroud Lifeforms are called 'Symbionts'. It happens in stages, see. First, the Symbiont is implanted, and it grows within the soul of the host. As it grows, the host becomes stronger, tougher, heals faster, needs less and less food and drink. Eventually, they hit the next stage, where the host stops needing to eat, sleep, or drink at all, which is when the Symbiont is matured, and can start doing other things."

She looks intrigued, so he holds his arms out, palms up.

Flecks of light begin to gather, before becoming solid, materializing slowly in a way that was more for presentation than anything else. First came the hands, Human save for the scalpel claws they ended in, before the rest of the arms started to appear afterwards. When it hit the shoulders, it started spreading more rapidly, two waves of light rippling together to form the chest and head, and then down to form the lower body. The chest was wide, covered in crystalline plating resembling armour. The arms were much the same, as well as the head. For the lower body, it didn't have legs, only a long tapering point coming down from the waist. Much like Adrien himself, there was a pair of red crosses at the wrists.

She looks up, in awe. She finds her voice after a moment. "Okay. It sounds a lot better, now."

He nods, agreeing. His Symbiont shifts, moving around the table. It offers her its hand.

With a little bit of hesitation, she takes it, grabbing it with both her own. She explores it, pressing down against it, feeling the smooth texture.

"That's cool."

"There's actually three stages to the process..." He says, slowly. "Stage three is the last. But, that takes at least years to get to." He leans back, and the Symbiont gently tugs its hand out of hers. "There's a reason I'm telling all this to you now, though."

She looks at him, head tilting to the side, before her eyes widen. "Wait, you mean-"

"Yeah." Adrien nodded. "You've also got one, kid." His eyes flicker with life light, as he looks her up and down. "You haven't had it long; less than a day, but you've definitely got it. The Shroud probably gave it to you when they rescued you."

Her face goes through a variety of interesting expressions, before settling on something like acceptance. "They... There was... one of them poked me for a while, and light went from them to me."

"That was it." Adrien said. "Doesn't take too long to happen. Still, to do it there and then... Did you, by chance-"

"Please refrain from materializing inside of the restaurant." Turing speaks, coming out of the kitchen. "As you have been told. Several times."

Adrien gives an embarrassed laugh, but his Symbiont vanishes a moment later, disintegrating into motes of life light. "Sorry, just showing the kid."

"I would believe that, if I was not aware of the fact that you're trying to delay going to registration for as long as possible." Turing returns. "Every moment you wait is just going to make it worse, you know."

He sighs. "Yeah, but... that doesn't make me want to go."

"How unfortunate for you." Turing didn't sound particularly empathic. He turned to Juliana, offering her a small, metal chip. She took it, looking at it. "Do return whenever you wish."

"Thank you?" She nodded, still looking at the chip.

"Hey, you never say that to me." Adrien said.

"No, I don't." Turing said, turning back to him.

"That's cold, man." Adrien put his hand over his chest. "Stone cold."

Turing released a long, exaggerated sigh, and walked away without another word.

Adrien smirked, before getting serious. "Alright. To registration."

"You don't sound like you want to."

"That's because we're going to spend an hour walking back and forth talking to people to do something that should really only take three minutes." He complained. "I swear, we really need to look at that process again. It's utterly ridiculous."

"Uh..."

"Don't worry 'bout it. It's just time consuming, not actually difficult." He stood up. "Let's go get this over with."

 

[Drich]

More lore, because I'm bored.


Multi-User-Mainframe: Database // Tak Records // The Shroud // Symbiosis

+++

By far the oddest behaviour of the Shroud, but also the most beneficial to us.

Symbiosis is a process by which the Shroud implants itself into the body and soul of another being. While this does not sound like a good thing, it is surprisingly benevolent.

It begins, as things often do with the Shroud, with an energy-embryo. I'm not yet certain where it comes from, but I can say that prolonged physical contact with any Shroud lifeform allows it to transfer the embryo into another host.

This host is inevitably a living creature that possesses a soul with a connection to the Warp above a certain strength. Measuring this is difficult for us, requiring extensive examination with specialist tools, but the Shroud is capable of doing so easily through an unknown method. Most Humans measure above the threshold.

Once implanted into the host, the embryo grows within the soul and the body of them, drawing energy from the Warp through the soul's own connection. The first stage of Symbiosis is marked with the host's decreasing need for food, drink, and sleep, as well as a quickening of healing rates and a demonstrated protectiveness from Shroud lifeforms.

As the embryo grows, it is capable of drawing more and more Warp energy through the soul, consuming it to fill its own growth. A small portion of the energy it gathers is transferred into the host's body, which is responsible for the host's decreased needs. At this stage, the embryo is an immaterial entity, existing mostly as an energy matrix within the host's soul and body, possessing little to no capability on its own.

Stage two begins once the embryo is sufficiently grown that it can indefinitely draw in more energy than the host needs to stay active. At this point, the host needs no food or drink, and sleeps only to maintain their mental health. It's at this stage where it is possible to see physical signs of the symbiosis, namely a soft blue light radiating from the chest of the individual in question. This light is not particularly strong, and emits from a small portion of the skin at the approximate center of the chest. It can be covered up by clothing, and in the early period of stage two, even by sunlight.

At stage two, the Shroud is no longer as protective of the host. This is because the Shroud Symbiont is itself capable of protecting the host should danger appear; mostly by physically manifesting energy around the host, capable of forming either armour or weapons, as well as enhancing strength, agility, and reaction speed. Later on, it may also gain the ability to attack at range, flinging bolts of energy at any aggressor.

Whatever excess energy is not used to protect the host and grow the Symbiont is transferred to the nearest Entity. As the Symbiont can draw from the Warp, this effectively turns the host and Symbiont into a slow but endless font of energy for the Shroud.

Stage three is the final stage of Symbiosis, occuring once the Symbiont reaches the maximum amount of energy it can draw from the Warp through the soul of the host at any given point in time. A person's soul is only so capable of drawing from the Warp, and while the Symbiont is capable of artificially increasing this amount, even the Symbiont can only push it so far. The Symbiont, however, is fully grown, developed to utilize the totality of energy it can draw from the host.

For most normal Humans, there is not a particularly large difference between stage two and stage three. The only visible part of it is the strength of the light they emit, which typically does not grow particularly strong. When the Symbiont manifests, it will only be able to create a body of slightly larger than Human size, though it will possess strength and agility far surpassing that of the host. Most Symbionts will likely still appear as armour and weapons, rather than a fully realized creature in its own right, providing protection and enhancement for the host. Even ones that do appear as full creatures will not be able to leave the immediate vicinity of the host.

For certain beings, particularly Psykers, with an innate and stronger connection to the Warp, stage three can be a dramatic difference. The Symbiont will keep growing based on the amount of energy it can draw, and the Symbiont of a stage three Psyker is typically extremely powerful. For approximately the same reason, this makes Psykers the favored host of the Shroud, as their strong and particularly connected souls enables the Shroud to draw in vastly more energy from them.

Symbionts of a stage three Psyker can materialize whole bodies with ease, at sizes significantly larger than the host. It might also be able to manifest multiple bodies, as well as weapons and armour for the host. A stage three Psyker Symbiont is a force to be reckoned with, even at quite a distance, not only from the physical form of the Symbiont, but also the host's increased reaction speed, strength, and agility.

Aside from the physical benefits of Symbiosis, the host also enjoys a number of other effects. Most notably, the host becomes effectively immune to Warp corruption. The Symbiont either absorbs or repels Warp energies, and while this could be theoretically overwhelmed with enough power, the amount required to overwhelm the Symbiont would immediately kill the host and destroy the soul. Hosts are, further, also resistant to most forms of direct psychic assault, as the Symbiont will either absorb or repel the energy making up the attack. Hosts also effectively jam most forms of psychic perception, precognition included, on account of the constant Warp-disruption the Symbiont causes.

There is also, of course, the benefit provided by the Symbiont. At stage three, Symbionts have bonded tightly to the host, and understands the host's thoughts, emotion, and will. This allows the host to direct the Symbiont as they wish, giving them access to the breadth of abilities available to the Symbiont. As each Symbiont is unique and evolves in response to the host, so too does the abilities available to any given host vary. Symbionts of Psykers have a tendency to display particularly powerful abilities, across a wide range of subjects.

One note of Psyker Symbionts, however, is that a Psyker, because their Symbiont is monopolizing all Warp Energy that can be gained through the Soul, effectively loses their Warp-based abilities. For latents who have not yet figured out how to use their abilities, this makes no real difference. For realized Psykers, this loss instead trades personal Warp-based abilities for general protection from the predations of the Warp, and, in time, learning how to use Shroud Energy to replicate the effects of their original powers. Most consider this tradeoff worth it, especially since Symbionts can continuously draw more energy than a Psyker alone could, typically making them both more powerful and more focused.

The time it takes to progress through the stages of Symbiosis is dependent on the strength of the Warp connection the host possesses. At lower strengths, it may take years to progress to stage two, but only a month or two afterwards to progress to stage three. At higher strengths, especially for Psykers, it can take only weeks to reach stage two, but decades to reach stage three.

The stronger the connection, the stronger the Symbiont and host, and the longer it will take to reach the height of their possible power.

The Shroud does not attempt Symbiosis on anything with a Warp connection below a certain level, presumably because the amount that could be drawn from Symbiosis would be lower than what it would require, thus presenting an energy-drain, to no benefit.

I measure the strength of the Warp connection in grades. Grade zero, and below, the Shroud will not join with. The average Human falls within the range of Grade 1 through to Grade 3. The average Psyker falls into the range of Grade 6 through Grade 12. Particularly exceptional, or particularly poor, individuals may fall into a greater or lesser ranges.

Of course, that is only the averages for our world. Others might be different, higher or lower, and both cases certainly only apply to Humans and Human Psykers.

All in all, interesting and intriguing. And, about the only thing that saved our lives, on this world.

An example of the energy armour formed by the Shroud:

Spoiler

This armour still resembles parts of the current typical Shroud lifeforms, if only in the glowing blue lines and semi-organic dark greys.

Another example, this time a pair of fully-manifested Symbionts from two exceptional stage three twins, at Grade 5, though not actually psykers:

Spoiler

Note how Human these Symbionts look. This particular pair have had their Symbionts since early childhood, and the Symbionts have adapted completely to them, to the point of even having adopted apparent sexual dimorphism, based on the pair. Again, aside from the glowing blue light, the Symbionts no longer resemble typical Shroud lifeforms at all, having even adopted a seemingly partially mechanical nature, which I believe stems from the fact that the one who raised them was a Man of Stone.

It is fascinating, how completely the Shroud can change itself. Humans are the only beings I have seen the Shroud engage in Symbiosis with, and yet, it has resulted in lifeforms of many different shapes and sizes. What more can the future bring?