According to Lamu (and backed up by Ariel) while their home was consecrated in the name of She-Of-Many-Names, that wasn't the case with the rest of this section of the hive. Which apparently meant that anyone with half a mind to do a scrying ritual would find them almost immediately. The easiest way to solve this?
Deal with the local gangs, use their blood and pain to paint a bunch of the neverborn god's symbols all over the place. Then, with a bit of hidden lore that Lamu was privy to, presto! They would be 'hidden' amongst an obfuscating fog that would hide their exact location– but wouldn't stop scryers from knowing they were in that general area…
One that was eight hab-blocks, two recycling facilities and one mammoth trainyard wide. And two levels tall. This was a
weak ritual, according to the Alluress. One of the dozens that she could teach Galatea if she proved worthy. The witch could admit that the tiny thing knew how to motivate people when she wasn't huffing her own farts.
Which was why they (or rather, Galatea and Ariel with everyone else tied up in her soul) were sneaking into Leech territory. Thankfully, while people looked up in the underhive, the rafters were often dark enough for her to spider across without anyone the wiser.
"So," Ariel whispered as she hung near her mistress, a faint haze around her being the only indication that no one but Galatea and other witches could see her, "The previous gangs were mostly to warm you up. This… Leech? I think you called them, gang is going to be a lot harder. Not just because they are better equipped, there's a
faint trace of our goddess' presence hanging in the area. It's not enough to get a proper blessing from them, but it's enough that they might
glance at what's going on– usually happens with people doing things under her purview, but deluding themselves with worshipping another power…"
With a cute pout, she reached out with a psychic cantrip, purple smoke leaving her mouth, before being breathed in through her nose, "I can't make out
who though. I don't think it's the same as the priests, it doesn't taste like ash. What can you tell me about them? Might help narrow it down."
"They call themselves 'artists of the human condition'. Crazy, full of themselves and one note. All they do is carve up themselves and others while praising each other for it, then they try to do music with the whole thing." The witch grimaced at the memory like she'd fallen into a waste pipe. Annoying bastards, there was a reason she'd picked them as the first major gang to hit. Well, that and, "Nobody likes them. 'S why we call them Leeches. They only exist to suck each other off and snatch gutter rats off of the minor gangs."
"Yeah, I got nothing." The muse sighed. She opened her mouth to say more– only to be interrupted by sounds of injury and cries of suffering echoed down the vent they were crawling through, "...Ah, yes.
Music. I see,
great."
"Mhm. The worst." Galatea grumbled with a puff of steam, casting her senses outward. She wasn't a mindwitch, but everyone with powers had some sense for people's thoughts and emotions. Helped that she was a fleshie, which meant she could somewhat focus it by feeling for their hearts.
It wasn't exactly precise. But she could tell that the area below was one of the 'Leech Pits' they were fond of making. She wasn't sure what those lunatics did down there, definitely nothing good from what she could feel of the pained heartbeats. Nevermind how they kept slowing and winking out one after the other.
The 'instruments' going in and out of focus in tune with them told her all that she needed to know, really.
Thankfully, the locus of power that her muse was guiding her towards was far from that mess, "Huh…
Weird," The ankle bitter whispered as they got closer, "Turn left. I think we're right on top of them."
Obeying her, Galatea found herself in front of a large grate. Human wails came from just beyond, along with words that she could barely hear under the screams. Pushing he face against the metal, she could see what was going on beyond and it was–
Dozens of the Leech's members sat, knelt or danced in slavish devotion, their ornate self-inflicted scars meddling with spiralling tattoos. At the centre of them, an entire arrangement of humans, mutants and– ...Xeeeenos? Those people looked really green and small, funky little ears though.
All butchered and mutilated in odd and bizarre ways, one had all of the skin on his front flayed, allowing a Leech to play xylophone with his ribs, another was using the green children's exposed brains as a
disgusting blowing instrument and– "Oh fuck me," Ariel clutched at her head. Looking pained, "This is the place of power, it's a
church. They are worshipping something but– why does it count as worship? It–it's so
bad!?"
"Good to know you pinkheads have taste." They hadn't given her an actual term for referring to their goddess' gang, so she made do. Either way, she'd be concerned if the neverborn she'd thrown her lot with were into this nonsense. "Speaking of, time to cut the girls loose?"
"Yes please. This 'music' is just
bad," Her muse grumbled before slipping inside of her, "
I'll be in here until you need me."
A little tug and a gout of pink fog, and Lamu stood in Ariel's place. The witch was suddenly glad for having pulled her out in the vent instead of just kicking the grate and throwing the girls at the gangers. Because the first thing that came to Galatea's mind when she clapped eyes on the dragon was
'Is she okay?'
Panting, red faced, and with a weird smile on it, Lamu swayed side to side a little as she appeared. Which of course prompted the witch to pull her close before she lost her balance.
"Mngh~!" Shivering in her grasp, the girl shook her head, "Wushappenin'?"
If the tiny thing had reminded of
her bratty siblings the kids before, now it was overwhelming. Together with a few feelings she had begun to associate with Ariel. She couldn't quite keep herself from gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind one of the odd fins that served as her ears.
"I need you to burn some gangers to death." She whispered into the tiny woman's frill, "Can you do that for me?"
"Ah?" The girl said. Clarity returning to her face and eyes…right before she started flailing about, "Awawawawawawawawaawa!"
"Cute." Galatea giggled, largely unworried about the Leeches hearing them. They were
loud and probably more drug than blood.
With eyes (literally) spinning, Lamu pulled herself out of Galatea's grasp, "Ganger? Killing? Ganger killing? Yes! I do that! I kill gangers for you! Whatever you ask!"
"Good girl~" The witch crooned, even as a negligent backhand sent the grate flying into the opposite wall, giving the little dragon everything she needed to get to work. Looked like managing her underboss would be easier than she'd thought!
The sound of the grate
clattering onto the ground, of course, interrupted the unholy mass.
"Who da–!?" One of the 'musicians' roared with indignity, only to be interrupted by Lamu's small form smashing into him. In a blink she had torn him to pieces with her claws, his blood showering her as she screamed something in a language that made Galatea's head itch.
That was more than enough to get the gangers to stop drooling with their thumbs up the ass and actually start fighting with whatever was on hand, "Slay this fiend! In the name of the Ancient Singer!"
Of course, Galatea wasn't going to make it easy on them. She had let the speed spell drop before pulling out Lamu, so it was no problem at all to let her lightning rip from the base of her neck to her fingertips. It was amazing how much control she had now, the crackling cords of electricity allowing themselves to be split into a thin net to leave a third of the gangers twitching and stumbling.
Most of those hit screamed in pain, "
Ugh. They can't even take that
?" Earning a sneer from Ariel in the confines of her mind, "
No wonder our goddess doesn't bother with them."
The rest opened fire on Lamu with their sad excuses for stubbers. Bullets streaked towards her, but using unnatural grace and some sort of sorcery she either dodged them, or they slid off her form like water.
She should be able to hold for a while, especially given the
fancy magic sword on her hip. Which meant the witch was free to start pulling out the rest of the girls while she got her speed spell back up. Best to give them a few moments in the vents so they could get situated, her way to clasp them to her soul seemed to leave them a bit out of it.
"Oh, are we there yet?" As she began pulling them out, they all looked… fine. Nothing like their 'leader'.
No(t much) blushing, shivering or anything of the sort. They looked exactly as they did when she'd placed them next to her ember– which was honestly looking more and more like a proper (if small) torch flame.
Weird, since she'd held Al'oue't like last time. Maybe Lamu had done something to keep everyone else ready to go? She was surprisingly thoughtful if so. "Yep. Jpai, M'llpa't, go block the exit. Gand, cover for Lamu. Phyr, Al, we're on flanking and herding duty."
"Yes mistress!" With a shout of agreement, all five girls burst out of the vent. God, it felt good to be back in business.
Gand, the centaur, reached Lamu just as the small girl began tearing into the ganger's frontline. Shimmering, ethereal blade in hand, the dragon cut down three men in a single swipe, her small size belying the strength she actually possessed. One of the scum, a woman that apparently had cut off her breasts in a stroke of "artistic brilliance", attempted to smash the daemon with a scrapmace.
Keyword being 'attempted', given how Gand made a point of crushing her underhoof as she jumped to her rider's side.
Jpai and M'llpa't slithered and skittered off. Their unnatural bodies twisting around the numerous pipes in the room as they headed off to their assigned position, eliminating any ganger that got a bit too close to them.
"We shall take the left flank then," With a bow, the two goats jumped out and dashed to the side, a spring in their step as they weaved around stray bullets and attacks. Their method was odd– They'd clasped hands, and then began pulling and pushing each other out of harm's way with it. In a manner that was akin to a dance.
The witch sadly couldn't enjoy the show, allotting them only as much attention as any other of her girls as she swung through the pipes in the ceiling. A moment later, she was tearing through the right flank like a wild animal. She had never been taught how to fight properly, nor sought it out since it'd have been useless when she could make herself as strong and tough as an ogryn. There was nothing that could truly harm her here unless she let a couple dozen of the goons gang up on her, so it was a game of knockpin writ bloody. Her arms didn't blacken once, purple limbs more than enough to plow through hasty guards, pulp chests into bloody ruins and send the carcass crashing through their friends.
Bullet splashed across her frame, her human body incapable of the grace and oddities of the neverborns'. But what she lacked in those respects, her iron-flesh made up for in sheer resilience, the pig-metal of mismatched bullets failing to do more than be a mildly annoying shower.
"For the old gods!" Seeing that their guns were of no use, some of the gangers pulled out melee weapons, "Let the art of our lives be one with their strengths!" And tried their best to engage her in close combat.
It went about as well as one would expect. Bullets couldn't pierce her skin, a bunch of makeshift axes and hammers weren't going to do anything other than maybe unbalance if she was overextended. She took them head on, letting them bounce harmlessly off her leathery hide and gleefully crushing their extended wrists before turning them into yet more ammo.
It was hardly the most exciting battle she'd found herself in, that honour belonged to that one time her gang had to fight through a catwalk over a Lower Pit Feeder infested canal. But it most certainly was the bloodiest. Even as they failed to harm her and were pushed back, the gangers were being cut down by Lamu, now astride Gand and being just as deadly as before.
Pausing in her carnage, the dragon's throat convulsed and bulged, a purple light spreading from her chest to her mouth in a rather grotesque display.
With a retching sound, fire burst from her maw. Not a true dragon's breath, but more of a purple fireball, trailed by cinder and ash as the dark core burned. It hit one of the goons that Galatea was throwing around, exploding with a thunderclap and bathing everything in fire. Some gangers fell as nothing but charred corpses, while others were simply knocked around with nasty burns.
In a single smooth twirl of Lamu's blade, one of the women sent flying from the force of the detonation was bisected from head to groin. Her burning halves spilling gore and embers as they crashed behind her.
"Good shot!" Galatea praised even as she leapt on the shoulders of a particularly big man, a cross of her legs and a practised twirl leaving her kicking off of the headless corpse. Completely dry, too, Ariel's cloth was something else.
Out of the thirty, barely six now remained, "You vile creatures!" They'd been the 'musicians' when the witch and her summons had broken into the room. And now they made their last stand atop the broken bodies of those they'd used for 'art', "The gods wil–"
"Do nothing." Galatea cut him off as she stalked to the front of her gang, enhanced lungs and long experience making her voice cut like an Arbites through pipe rats. Adrenaline tugged her lips into a rictus grin, eyes burning with her ember's fire boring into the sorry excuse for a leader this congregation had, "There is only one god watching and she ain't none of yours. Go on, call them. Beg them to strike me down. I'm waiting."
"You– You! You think yourself worthy of the gods' attention!?" The 'lead musician' shouted. Unlike the others, his weapon was something that looked actually kinda nice. A sort of violin bow, that he'd used to strum strings made of a dead orgyn, "When we have toiled and spread their art and their faith, and yet received no signs from them!? Such arrogance! The gods will see you dead for it!"
"Didn't you listen? Your. Gods. Ain't. Here." The witch said slowly, as though to a particularly slow child. Almost chewing the words like succulent lobster-larva meat, they certainly tasted just as delicious. "You said it yerself, they don't care for ye or yer sorry lot. Just little doggies cryin' to a master that don't care to feed 'em. Mine? Eh, she be there, but who pays mind to someone takin' out the trash?"
Evidently, he had no response, as he threw himself at her with an angry roar on his lips.
"Can't even argue yer point, fookin pathetic." She scoffed, a negligent backhand of her blackened arm turning him into a spray of giblets and bone shards. She frowned faintly, something niggling at her brain until it hit her with a groan, "Ah, damn, let my accent slip."
"Well, I think it's cute." Ariel commented while the rest of her neverborns dealt with the survivors, "Gives you a… roguish charm!"
"Bwahahahaha! You sound like an ork!" Lamu said, in between cackles, "How fitting for a brute like you! Hahahaha!"
"Oh, shut it. I'm more refined than three fourths of the hive just by knowing how to read and write." The witch huffed as she started hauling corpses into the main pile. Mainly the stragglers the noodle duo had gotten. "Besides, I don't hear Ariel complaining about my muscles or how I can lift Gand."
"She's right! I'd never complain about that!" "That's because you want her to manhandle you like a squeaky toy." "No I don't!"
"Oh really?" Lamu asked with a raised eyebrow, "We've seen how you smile while you rub yourself all over her muscles! And giggle while oohing and aahing as you do!"
"I
do not!" "You are doing it right now though." "Shush sister. Don't ruin the moment."
Sure enough. The little muse who had been doing just that, bolted up with a blush, earning a smug, victorious look from Lamu.
"Don't worry, Lamu. I'll give you a reward too. You were so eager to please, after all~." Galatea said with nothing less than complete honesty and benevolence, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
"Eh?" "Eh?" "Eh?" "Eh?" "Hah! Knew it! In your face Phyr! I
told you! I win!"
"Oh, screw off!" "Never! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Uu-uhn…" While twins suddenly became so much more agitated than the witch had ever seen them, G'andec'et clopped closer. All the while keeping an eye on the dragon that was doing her best impression of a pressure cooker, "Wh-what exactly do you mean by that?"
Instinctively, she felt Ariel pull in the memories and feeling of that moment when the blushing, confused and disoriented Lamu had appeared, and weave them.
Making of them a tapestry, just as she had created the clothes that she was now wearing.
"Lower your head, I'll show you." Galatea chuckled as she tossed off the last of the corpses. Well, her share of them anyways.
Tilting her head, Gand did as asked, kneeling on all four legs so she could be at the proper height.
Purple fingers cradled the centaur's face, guiding her forehead to touch the witch's. She wasn't a thoughtwister, but with Ariel's help this much she could do.
The tapestry was draped over Gand's mind, letting her see and feel as Galatea had– which made her blush too, her tail swishing all over and her ears fluttering madly.
The witch simply gave her a smile and a wink as she let the horse woman go. And go she did, "Ababababababababababa-"
"If you are finished with bullying my minion–" The dragon in question loudly grumbled. Her presence apparently forcing Gand to try and lower herself even lower out of… shaaaame? "The ritual is all but ready."
"I can see why you like her, but yes. I've had my fill." Galatea said with a bob of her head, settling in to watch Lamu work.
Harrumphing, the Aluress grabbed Gala's hand and pulled her forwards, "What do you think you're doing? There'll be no staying behind and letting me work! As much as I hate to admit it… You're at least the slightest bit talented enough to cast the capstone of this ritual."
"You're the one who said she'd be handling all the ritualwork, but suit yourself." The witch said with a little shake of her head, following along anyways.
"Hmph! I might have lost to you– which was a fluke! But if you're not able to be a proper witch, then you have no business leading us!" The haughty little shit told her, "And what better way to test your capabilities than to have you perform a ritual like this! Hope you paid attention to when
I was casting it with my expert skill, talents and power~!"
"My eyes didn't leave you for a moment." Galatea replied with a crooked grin as she allowed her fire to recede, skin lightening and veins flattening. It was true in both respects, too. What the tiny woman did was fascinating… and her dress was very flattering. Oue't one and two were playing grabass right as they kept arguing, admitting to a bit of ogling was nothing.
"G-good! It'd be a true shame if y-you didn't behold my beauty and p-power!" She said, her smirk wobbling a little as she did.
But now the stage belonged to the witch. Leaving her free to cast the ritual as she desired.
Galatea rolled her shoulders, her ember roiling in tune with the motion, body and soul loosening. Her fire thickened, viscous and purple like her underboss' own, trailing down from the base of her heart in a clean stream. A single line of burning violet feeding into her shadow.
Her ember. Her shadow. The murk that she had been born in, grown from and raised above. They were all part of her, ephemeral as they may be. Just as fire joined flesh, the three slid into alignment and collapsed into one. It welled under her feet, neither liquid nor solid and dark as the pits of her home. It ran like the canals she had known her whole life, eagerly swallowing the corpses. Drawing out all they had, their blood, their pain, their dying echoes. Washing away all they had been and could have become, leaving nothing but translucent husks.
It felt like falling into the same waters she invoked with her limbs torn, warmth bubbling out and deathly cold biting in. Not the burn of pushing her body too far, too fast, but a warning all the same. Her muse kept her anchored, threads of humming silk cradling her heart, keeping her warm, keeping her focused.
One last push. The dark had been stained, become ink, churning around her like the open mouth of the Chadbis Whirlpool. Burning her overboss' symbol into the foundations of the chapel she had conquered in her name, carving it past the skein of reality so she could well and truly claim it.
While the ritual was underway, Lamu had been looking beyond excited. But with it complete, her mood suddenly fell, an annoyed, angry pout on her lips.
She opened her mouth to speak when–
–Power, hunger, thirst, desire,lust,perfection,ecstasy,allure,sex,torture,felicity–
They
ALL felt it. A presence that was beyond any of them. It's simple existence crashing down on them all with a weight that was both physical, mental and spiritual.
Something indescribable filled Galatea, sending her down to the group, frostbitten legs creaking dangerously as she fell on her knees.
–
boredom–
But by the time they'd touched the floor, the sounds of her panting breath filling the once-church as all others were deathly silent. It was gone. Leaving no trace of its presence beside a lingering fire inside of Galatea, flitting around her chest.
"Well, now I know why you call the big boss a goddess." She muttered as she gently tucked away the fuchsia candle flame atop her heart, where neither her ember or her bonds would disturb it by accident. "Is she always that intense, even when she's barely paying attention?"
Of course, instead of answering that, all Lamu did was stomp her foot in frustration and scream, "OH, COME. ON!"
"I'm socking you as soon as my arms can go again." They were kind of limp by her side as her fire started to thaw them out together with her legs. She didn't want to rush into it and have to regrow some fingers. They were on a timetable here.
