The Aeson
27-01-2007, 18:05
OOC: Okay, this is just me starting to dabble a bit in fantasy tech. Won't be in a way that will be considered muchly godmodding when it shows up in my (P)MT RPing. Mostly going to affect me within my own nation. This will become open in a couple of posts probably.
IC: To be, or not to be, that it was the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, to end them?
The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
William Shakespeare
It is then this dilemma that we face. When the church, the state, the very nation is turned against us, does it signify that we are the only righteous men, or that what once was right is now wrong, and that what once was wrong now is right? And then, do we change, or try to force right and wrong to change again?
The Tragedy of Nathaniel or The Futility of Righteousness
Author Unknown
It was difficult, this life. The last of the Janusians, their leader now dead, were hiding in the caves and canyons of the Heartland. They were nearly out of ammunition, nearly out of food, and nearly out of hope.
And as if that wasn’t enough, the Crusaders were coming after them again. The bastards didn’t even bother to use their camouflage anymore. Practically all of the armor piercing ammunition was gone already, and normal rounds weren’t nearly as effective against the heavily armored enemy.
At least in the caves they couldn’t use armor, artillery, or aircraft, as they had on the canyon floor. The Crusaders were bad enough, but it had been a massacre out there. Henry Lao kept moving back as he fired. A Crusader fell, courtesy of a bullet that had struck the more vulnerable helmet. Lao wasn’t sure if it was his bullet, or one of the countless ones fired by the three other Janusians. But one Crusader made little difference in the end, as the others continued advancing, and they were firing as well. Two of the other Janusians fell, leaving Lao and a huge man, physically on par with the Crusaders, but unarmored and with inferior weaponry, to hold off the nine seeming juggernauts.
“Run!” The huge man shouted. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Go deeper into the caves, find the others. That’s an order!” He stood up, exposing his substantial form to fire, and distracting the Crusaders, while Lao strapped his gun to his back, ducked to his hands and knees and began crawling through a small tunnel. The Crusaders would have a hell of a time following him through that in their bulky armor.
The flashlight in his headgear sputtered and died, the battery finally fallen to the ravages of time, despite putting up a fight that would have made three hundred Spartans proud. After that, he last track of time. On the one hand, minutes seemed to drag on for days. On the other, he had a sneaking suspicion that each time he blinked his eyes, several hours went past while he wasn’t looking. The numerous times he hit his head on the ceiling did little to help.
Finally, he saw a faint glow. He continued to crawl towards it, until finally he found himself in a wide open chamber, in which the walls appeared to be glowing. The light was rather dim, but enough to see by, in fact, brilliant compared to the previous pitch black he had been crawling through.
There were other shapes moving in the chamber; however he couldn’t distinguish them at first. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and he saw that they were, in fact, fellow Janusians.
“Lao. You made it,” said one simply. “Good. The others?” When Lao shook his head the man swore. He gestured at the walls “Some sort of phosphorescent fungus. Hell of a thing. Gets better. There’s running water in a cavern over there.” He waved to the far side of the chamber, “and a pool with some sort of fish in it. I’ve been eating it for a couple of days and I haven’t died yet, so I figure it’s pretty safe. You need to rest? Sleep?”
Lao shook his head again, and the man nodded. “All right then. You’re with me. We’re going scouting.” The man had a flashlight, which, judging by the fact that he carried the extra weight, probably still worked. It would serve good double duty as a club, though.
***
There was no need for the flashlight. The glowing fungus extended as far as they went that first trip. Well, except for the last cave. There was no fungus on the walls there, which stretched off as far as the eye could see to the left and the right. The wall on the opposite side of the cave was not visible. In between this out of sight boundary and the entrance Lao and the others have come through is a huge lake, shining with some sort of algae that appeared to be brighter than the fungus. Something moved in the depths of the lake.
“Probably just a fish,” said the sergeant, but he switched off the safety on his weapon. What happened next was so fast that afterwards, no one was quite certain of the sequence of events. In any case, in some order or other, the following happened.
Someone began firing into the lake.
Something came out of the lake and towards the men.
The sergeant fell, or was dragged off of the cliff, and into the lake.
The scouting team turned and ran, with the exception of Lao, who dropped his gun, drew a knife from his belt and dove into the shining lake.
Again, time seemed to lose all meaning. The water, once you got past the thin layer of shimmering translucent algae, was surprisingly clear. There was a nearly perfectly circular tunnel in the bottom, only six feet or so below the surface, into which he saw the sergeant’s hand disappear. The tunnel had a diameter of about eight feet, but he could only see a short distance before it turned sharply.
He swam through the tunnel, and after several twists and turns, he found himself floating in a large spherical chamber. His lungs seemed to be on fire.
Breathe, said a voice in his head. Without knowing why, he trusted it. The water felt odd in his lungs, but they stopped burning, and he didn’t seem to be choking or drowning. He slowly turned himself around. The first thing he saw was the skeleton of the sergeant. It was still in military uniform, but it had been stripped down to the bone of flesh.
He was… not worthy. Said the voice in his head, with something approaching regret. You, on the other hand…
Lao had heard that your whole life flashed before your eyes when you died. He was then, he expected, merely in for a bit of maiming, as it was only bits and pieces that he suddenly remembered with crystal clarity.
Yes. You are worthy. You came here with no fear in your heart. You shall be my emissary.
After that… Lao blacked out.
***
He awoke floating face down on the surface of the lake. Somehow, he stilled seemed able to breathe the water. He quickly swam to the side. His back hurt like hell. And there was something odd about his arms as well.
As he climbed out of the water, he glanced back. A portion of the algae had, against all probability, become reflective. What he saw shocked him. His back hurt like hell because of the two large, feathered wings emerging from it. His arms felt odd because… there were four of them. That couldn’t be normal. His skin was no longer the tanned bronze it had been, but instead a brilliant golden color, that caught the light given off by the algae. Also, he was taller, and better muscled than he had even been before.
A thought struck him, and he moved the wings. He leapt, and his wings flapped. He was flying. Flying.
About that time he blacked out again. When he awoke, he was outside, in the canyon, still flying. Below him, he saw a group of Crusaders, heading towards a cave. He landed before them. They froze.
He never knew where the swords came from, but he certainly wielded them well. Less than thirty seconds after his landing, the last Crusader fell. His military uniform was gone, replaced by a loincloth, a bronze helm, and two sword belts crossed across his chest, each holding two sheathes. He sheathed his sword and examined his handiwork.
The swords had cut through the armor like it was flimsy cloth, and through skin and bone without any more difficulty. He lowered his head for a moment in respect for his fallen foes, and then rose into the sky again. He knew, without knowing how he knew, or knowing why he didn’t know how he knew, where his destination was. The center of the Heartland. Where, incidentally, Military Governor Blak was building the new Vault of Aesonic Treasures, and where several important artifacts had already been moved.
IC: To be, or not to be, that it was the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, to end them?
The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
William Shakespeare
It is then this dilemma that we face. When the church, the state, the very nation is turned against us, does it signify that we are the only righteous men, or that what once was right is now wrong, and that what once was wrong now is right? And then, do we change, or try to force right and wrong to change again?
The Tragedy of Nathaniel or The Futility of Righteousness
Author Unknown
It was difficult, this life. The last of the Janusians, their leader now dead, were hiding in the caves and canyons of the Heartland. They were nearly out of ammunition, nearly out of food, and nearly out of hope.
And as if that wasn’t enough, the Crusaders were coming after them again. The bastards didn’t even bother to use their camouflage anymore. Practically all of the armor piercing ammunition was gone already, and normal rounds weren’t nearly as effective against the heavily armored enemy.
At least in the caves they couldn’t use armor, artillery, or aircraft, as they had on the canyon floor. The Crusaders were bad enough, but it had been a massacre out there. Henry Lao kept moving back as he fired. A Crusader fell, courtesy of a bullet that had struck the more vulnerable helmet. Lao wasn’t sure if it was his bullet, or one of the countless ones fired by the three other Janusians. But one Crusader made little difference in the end, as the others continued advancing, and they were firing as well. Two of the other Janusians fell, leaving Lao and a huge man, physically on par with the Crusaders, but unarmored and with inferior weaponry, to hold off the nine seeming juggernauts.
“Run!” The huge man shouted. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Go deeper into the caves, find the others. That’s an order!” He stood up, exposing his substantial form to fire, and distracting the Crusaders, while Lao strapped his gun to his back, ducked to his hands and knees and began crawling through a small tunnel. The Crusaders would have a hell of a time following him through that in their bulky armor.
The flashlight in his headgear sputtered and died, the battery finally fallen to the ravages of time, despite putting up a fight that would have made three hundred Spartans proud. After that, he last track of time. On the one hand, minutes seemed to drag on for days. On the other, he had a sneaking suspicion that each time he blinked his eyes, several hours went past while he wasn’t looking. The numerous times he hit his head on the ceiling did little to help.
Finally, he saw a faint glow. He continued to crawl towards it, until finally he found himself in a wide open chamber, in which the walls appeared to be glowing. The light was rather dim, but enough to see by, in fact, brilliant compared to the previous pitch black he had been crawling through.
There were other shapes moving in the chamber; however he couldn’t distinguish them at first. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and he saw that they were, in fact, fellow Janusians.
“Lao. You made it,” said one simply. “Good. The others?” When Lao shook his head the man swore. He gestured at the walls “Some sort of phosphorescent fungus. Hell of a thing. Gets better. There’s running water in a cavern over there.” He waved to the far side of the chamber, “and a pool with some sort of fish in it. I’ve been eating it for a couple of days and I haven’t died yet, so I figure it’s pretty safe. You need to rest? Sleep?”
Lao shook his head again, and the man nodded. “All right then. You’re with me. We’re going scouting.” The man had a flashlight, which, judging by the fact that he carried the extra weight, probably still worked. It would serve good double duty as a club, though.
***
There was no need for the flashlight. The glowing fungus extended as far as they went that first trip. Well, except for the last cave. There was no fungus on the walls there, which stretched off as far as the eye could see to the left and the right. The wall on the opposite side of the cave was not visible. In between this out of sight boundary and the entrance Lao and the others have come through is a huge lake, shining with some sort of algae that appeared to be brighter than the fungus. Something moved in the depths of the lake.
“Probably just a fish,” said the sergeant, but he switched off the safety on his weapon. What happened next was so fast that afterwards, no one was quite certain of the sequence of events. In any case, in some order or other, the following happened.
Someone began firing into the lake.
Something came out of the lake and towards the men.
The sergeant fell, or was dragged off of the cliff, and into the lake.
The scouting team turned and ran, with the exception of Lao, who dropped his gun, drew a knife from his belt and dove into the shining lake.
Again, time seemed to lose all meaning. The water, once you got past the thin layer of shimmering translucent algae, was surprisingly clear. There was a nearly perfectly circular tunnel in the bottom, only six feet or so below the surface, into which he saw the sergeant’s hand disappear. The tunnel had a diameter of about eight feet, but he could only see a short distance before it turned sharply.
He swam through the tunnel, and after several twists and turns, he found himself floating in a large spherical chamber. His lungs seemed to be on fire.
Breathe, said a voice in his head. Without knowing why, he trusted it. The water felt odd in his lungs, but they stopped burning, and he didn’t seem to be choking or drowning. He slowly turned himself around. The first thing he saw was the skeleton of the sergeant. It was still in military uniform, but it had been stripped down to the bone of flesh.
He was… not worthy. Said the voice in his head, with something approaching regret. You, on the other hand…
Lao had heard that your whole life flashed before your eyes when you died. He was then, he expected, merely in for a bit of maiming, as it was only bits and pieces that he suddenly remembered with crystal clarity.
Yes. You are worthy. You came here with no fear in your heart. You shall be my emissary.
After that… Lao blacked out.
***
He awoke floating face down on the surface of the lake. Somehow, he stilled seemed able to breathe the water. He quickly swam to the side. His back hurt like hell. And there was something odd about his arms as well.
As he climbed out of the water, he glanced back. A portion of the algae had, against all probability, become reflective. What he saw shocked him. His back hurt like hell because of the two large, feathered wings emerging from it. His arms felt odd because… there were four of them. That couldn’t be normal. His skin was no longer the tanned bronze it had been, but instead a brilliant golden color, that caught the light given off by the algae. Also, he was taller, and better muscled than he had even been before.
A thought struck him, and he moved the wings. He leapt, and his wings flapped. He was flying. Flying.
About that time he blacked out again. When he awoke, he was outside, in the canyon, still flying. Below him, he saw a group of Crusaders, heading towards a cave. He landed before them. They froze.
He never knew where the swords came from, but he certainly wielded them well. Less than thirty seconds after his landing, the last Crusader fell. His military uniform was gone, replaced by a loincloth, a bronze helm, and two sword belts crossed across his chest, each holding two sheathes. He sheathed his sword and examined his handiwork.
The swords had cut through the armor like it was flimsy cloth, and through skin and bone without any more difficulty. He lowered his head for a moment in respect for his fallen foes, and then rose into the sky again. He knew, without knowing how he knew, or knowing why he didn’t know how he knew, where his destination was. The center of the Heartland. Where, incidentally, Military Governor Blak was building the new Vault of Aesonic Treasures, and where several important artifacts had already been moved.