[Under Construction] Of Ash And Fire: Roleplaying Thread

[TheBrok3n]

The sound of metal on metal announced the tenno's arrival on the Corpus frigate. Blood red armoured boots hit the deck as Excalibur crouched to absorb the impact of the landing.

 

So far so good, he thought. Some days a watchful crewman or trooper happened to witness the approach of the tenno snub fighter and raised the alarm making the only course of action to fight through the ships defenses before insertion. This was not one of these days and for that Excalibur was thankful. His mission was the recovery of critical intel on upgrades to the MOA pathfinding and threat detection software. As if that wasn't enough the Lotus had hinted that the chief programmer in charge of developing the upgrades might be on this ship as well.

 

The Blood red warframe shrugged as Excalibur loosened the muscles in his neck and shoulders after the long flight. Agility and strength came from loose muscles and joints, not cramp ones. Pulling his Latron prime from the magnetic clamps on the back of his warframe, Excalibur strode from the sparsely cluttered storage bay and almost right underneath a ceiling mounted camera. Excalibur made a mental note of his lack of vigilance and drew and threw a Kunai throwing knife into the camera body in one fluid motion. It would not do to be discovered before the valuable intel was recovered. This part of the ship was largely devoid of personnel and the first terminal was nearby.

 

Excalibur had just finished hacking the first data terminal the automated door next to it slid open with a hiss. His reflexive roll brought him behind a cargo crate meters away just as the Corpus crewman stepped into view of the terminal. Excalibur cursed as the datamass rose out of the floor and readied his kunai as the crewman stepped up to the terminal. The face behind box helmet was not visible but Excalibur read the crewman's surprise in the way he drew back from the hacked terminal. At that moment 2 kunai sunk deep into the crewman's back knocking him off his feet. Snatching up the datamass, Excalibur stepped through the same door the crewman had used and took out another camera with a practised flick of his wrist. Threat contained for now.

 

Three out of four datamasses had been collected when Excalibur spied the last terminal at the corner of a hanger filled with crewmen and MOA's milling about. There was no way to get to it without being seen. Not unless he was a Loki. He dropped the datamass he was carrying, his face tightened as he prepared himself for a fight. The Excalibur too a deep breath and broke from cover a a blur of motion, throwing 10 kunai in a matter of seconds at the yellow and green MOAs in the hanger. Experience taught him that the proxies always responded faster and more lethally than their flesh and blood counterparts. Excalibur drew his Latron prime as the last kunai left his fingers and emptied the magazine just as fast into the various crewmen. As the last round left the chamber Excalibur saw it wasn't enough. One crewman had survived the initial blitz and was running for a security console and a Corpus tech had leveled his Supra at Excalibur to cover his colleague. Excalibur weighed his options, there was not enough time to pull a fresh handful of kunai before the tech cut him down in a torrent of super heated plasma. His enemies were both in slash dash range but not close enough to each other to reach with one strike. His radial blind would not reach the crewman and would not buy enough time to reload before the alarm sounded. At that point Excalibur stopped thinking and blurred into motion. The supercharged muscles in the legs of the warframe sent him into a horizontal leap, giving Excalibur the momentum to cross the remainder of the hanger in the blink of an eye and cut the tech in half with the single ether long sword on his back.

 

The alarm sounded as Excalibur sheathed the ether sword and turned to the crewman who sounded it. Whether he was brave or just foolish, the crewman level his own weapon, a Dera plasma rifle, and sent a burst of blue plasma bolt racing in the tenno's direction. Excalibur tucked his legs into a roll and came up throwing his kunai. Ending the crewman, the blood red warframe jogged to the terminal and hacked it with the help of a cipher. Usually he didn't use ciphers but time was of essence now that the alarm had been sounded. Slapping a fresh magazine into his Latron Prime, Excalibur scaned the rest of the room before picking up the discarded datamasses. 

 

"Change of plans," The Lotus said,

 

"You now need to capture the target on this ship." Excalibur would have groaned but he was too professional for that. Instead he set off and a blistering run for the target's location. Hopefully he could capture the target and get off this ship before and organised response could be made to rid this vessel of him. Excalibur raced down corridors and walkways, through hangers and cargo bays. Slash dashing through bunches of enemies whenever they tried to bar his way. Reaching a large room with suspended walk walkways, Excalibur activated the powerful legs on the warframe and kicked the ground, sending him up more than 20 meters vertically and onto a suspended walkway connecting to the room the target was in. 

 

Bursting into the room, Excalibur threw two kunai into the target's knees and knocked him off his feet with a flying kick. Checking the room and walkway for pursuers and finding none, Excalibur raised his hand over the fallen programmer and began the digifying him. Although crude by orokin standards and somewhat inhumane, the Tenno had collectively agreed that it was better than dragging a fighting screaming prisoner to extract. 

 

"Mission complete, get to extraction." Excalibur thought the Lotus sounded a bit smug but he brushed it off. By now the crew of the ship had mustered their strength and opposed him such that it all seemed one long battle to him. As Excalibur fought and killed, he descended deeper and deeper in to a battle trance, thinking little and feeling less, giving himself over to his fight honed instincts and becoming one with the weapons he wielded. Such a trance was the escape of the tenno mind from the violence that surrounded them. Excalibur, like most of his kin, did not enjoy the death and destruction that wearing a warframe entails. Tenno are no less human than the Humans were. It was actually common belief amongst the Tenno that they were superhuman, having greater strength and reflexes as well as discipline and compassion. 

 

Excalibur only emerged from his battle trance when he stepped into the man shaped concave on the belly of his snub fighter. He allowed himself a moment of silent congratulations on a successful mission before settling in for a long flight home to his clan dojo. He would have to maintain his equipment and warframe and continue honing his skills but for now he could rest.

 

Tell me what you guys think =)

[Darayas]

Hey there, I'm doing a writeup about Warframes in the Orokin period at the onset of the Great Plague. I posted the first draft a month ago or so, but I never finished it. I've tweaked it since then and I'd love to get some feedback on it from you guys here! 

 

--

 

SYSTEM//EXPUNGE

 

“War is not a state to be entered into lightly. If purity is the penultimate state that all Tenno strive towards, then that must be a doctrine exercised to its maximum in that which we were created for – battle.
The aim of the Tenno warrior-monk must therefore be to attain purity in war, for the two are one and the same. The blade is the extension of inviolate spirit; the rifle a manifestation of holy will. Be unto your foe as heat unto ice.
If any lapse is to be found in martial discipline and commitment, this impurity must be expunged wholly before it poisons the balance of the Focussed Path. Eliminate it. Annihilate it. A moment of laxity breeds a lifetime of heresy. This is the application of war in its purest form.”

-Sunt’zu, Reflections on Tenno Martialism

*

Enormous security gatelocks, as tall as a man and then half again, groan. Fire-blackened steel buckles, crumples, and is blown clean off its hatches as easily as a rotten wooden door folds away.

 

Castellan Khanda, broader than two adult athletes, taller than the gatelock itself, strides through the gaping hole where a meter-thick slab of metal used to be. The light inside the courtyard finds him clad in the burnished smoke-and-pearl of an Excalibur warframe. The noble anatomy of a killer ripples lethally beneath the muscle-weave fibre of the suit.

 

Oudh and Himachal follow after the Seneschal, stooping low to fit through, their skull-close and eyeless helms in place. The Tenno are both Seneschals – lower in rank than Khanda, but no less deadly. They, too, bear the lethal physicality of the Excalibur. Hung from their warframes are ceremonial tassels and half-kilts; in the sickening wind, they brush against the silk gleam of armour shaped expressly for war.

 

“Here they come,” grunts Oudh. He raises his tulwar into the ready position. The wickedly curved blade glints like glass in the pallid light.

 

The Infected slither out of the smoke, filling the air with their gurgling jackal-growls. Fast-moving chargers, quick as darts, run like wild dogs ahead of the shambling and tumorous leapers. Their multi-jointed limbs twist violently in ways that nothing natural can mimic.

 

“Meet them! Deny them!” Khanda orders. Even as Oudh and Himachal leap into the fray, he draws his own weapon from his back. The Orthos snaps to its full length and sings as it cuts through the air.

 

No light catches the Infected onslaught. It’s as if even the sun is loath to look upon beasts as vile and unholy as these. Where they slobber across the dusty ground, shadows lengthen and yawn.

 

The Seneschals have buried themselves deep in the horde. They have time to empty just a clip from their Boltors before the fight devolves into a swirling, furious melee. Where the Infected scrabble and claw with the mad instinct of predatory beasts, the Tenno are a thin, pale line of deadly finesse.

 

Oudh’s tulwar carves chunks of cancerous flesh with every swing. His swordplay is fast, graceful, precise; he bisects and portions the enemy like slabs of meat. Himachal, instead, has foregone the elegance of bladework for the sheer output of his Fragor. The massive hammer, ridiculously oversized, pummels bluntly into an assaulting leaper. The Infected burst into blossoms of ichor and tumour. He swings left with effort, then brings it about, using the momentum to catch the bulbous heads of three chargers in a downward arc. They explode in wrecks of ruined flesh. The atmosphere itself shakes in ruptured shuddering for a split second. Bodies are sent flying, burst like ripe melons.

 

Khanda is still running. He lofts out of the smog bank wafting about the courtyard, and plunges down into the screaming horde of Infested like a marble bolt. His Orthos tears into the press of flesh and weaves arcs of destruction at either razor-clean end.

 

The Infested are dying in their droves, but they refuse to retreat. They come on in waves like wolves. There is some sort of hive mind driving them, a ravenous pack mentality that gives them the unthinking savagery of a mob. When they fight, they fight as one howling, mad tumult. A leaper rushes at Khanda as he makes a wreckage of a charger’s mouth, only to be cleaved in half with the backswing of his polearm.

 

The Tenno by contrast are warriors. Their heroic skill pitted against the worthlessness of their enemies, they fight individual wars in the broken, desolate courtyard. Lions, among wolves.            

 

The Seneschals and their Castellan whittle down the horde, when Himachal suddenly swears. A charger has his right arm in its slavering jaws, and it drags him to the ground as it savages his armour. Other chargers begin to pile on, pinning him in place, until Oudh and Khanda sink their blades into their flesh and hurl them off.

 

As the last Infected slobbers and falls, Khanda pulls Himachal to his feet. “You’re getting sloppy,” he admonishes.

Himachal is not in a good way. The charger’s maw has eaten straight through the fibre of the warframe, down to the Tenno’s skin. Deep gashes and bite marks line the bare flesh that shows through the ruptured armour. The skin around the injury has blackened.

 

The Seneschal winces and clutches his arm. “The wounds burn, Castellan,” he says as he retrieves his hammer. “But I acknowledge my laxity and will be sure to correct it.”

 

Khanda nods. “Let’s advance beyond the Elephant Gate. We’ve got hordes to clear.”

 

Khanda digs his Orthos into the ground and takes stock of his surroundings. Soaring above the courtyard are two great stone elephants from which the gate takes its name, locking tusks in a feral dispute. Though they have remained relatively untouched by the fighting, the walls that line the rest of the patio are broken in places. Crumbled masonry sits fallen and forlorn on the ground. The sound of more fighting can be heard in the distance – other Tenno kill-teams, undoubtedly, going about the business of expunging the Infested from the city. Their transhuman genetic code shields the sanctity of their flesh from the parasitic claim that the Great Plague had laid on the rest of humanity.  

 

The Great Plague. How bitterly natural the term sounds, he reflects, for a catastrophe of man's own making. Just over four years ago, the Orokin bio-weapon had spread uncontrollably from the hinterland testgrounds to the cities. Its initial effect, whilst inconvenient, was hardly harmful – it turned cold metal and circuitry into steaming, organic piles of meat. It took over guns, vehicles, walls; anything metallic could be consumed.

 

But in time, as it had been intended to do, the virus evolved to eat living flesh as well. Originally intended to be employed in controlled dosages against the Sentients, it took on the dimensions of an epidemic +but worse than an epidemic, an epidemic is coldly neutral, not possessed of a kind of endless, void-yawning malice+ and started to spread.

 

“Did you feel that?” Khanda asks. Oudh nods slowly. He was about to sheathe his tulwar, but now keeps it clasped in his hand.

 

The plague eventually grew to target the Orokin genome, even quicker than it identified metal. Its horrifyingly quick evolution saw scores living in the sprawling cities +all of them screaming as they choked on their own haemorrhaging tissue, nowhere to run to, nowhere to escape, trapped in the meat-cage of their own bodies as flesh filled ears, filled eyes, filled throats, stewed brains and smothered tears+  succumb. Before long, millions had been transmogrified into the slavering bio-forms that Khanda and the Tenno had just massacred +which are but preliminary tendrils, exploratory, probing fingers, not even a fraction of the unbound, relentless darkness spilling in from the inky fringes of black space, so unimaginably vast that it regards humanity as a whale might regard a plankton before it gets wholly consumed in its colossal maw+

 

Himachal doubles over. He rips off his helm and retches onto the ichor-stained ground. Oudh and Khanda are driven to their knees, coughing and dry-heaving under the shockwave of the psionic blast.

 

“Get up, Tenno,” Khanda is rasping as he struggles to rise, to meet whatever this new threat is. “Get up and form on me.”

 

Oudh has caught the weight of a limp Himachal in his arms. “Castellan,” he calls desperately, “Himachal is down!”

 

“I saw it,” Himachal breathes. “I saw into its head…I saw everything…”

 

Khanda rushes to help support the wounded Seneschal.

 

“Wait,” he says as he catches sight of the Tenno’s helm-less face. “His eyes –”

 

Castellan Khanda has no time to complete his sentence. The Elephant Gate erupts in a colossal explosion of crumbling stone and masonry dust, sending chunks of marble and limestone sailing into the courtyard. 

 

to be continued

[khimera]

On the note of culinary artwork~

 

____________________________________

 

The worst situation possible to ever happen had finally occured: Nova-Quinn was BORED. Normally, boredom is an easily remedied state for any Tenno, particularly ones with powers as explosive as a Nova's since their usefulness in missions made them high-priority team-members in destructive missions. However, Nova-Quinn was not your run-of-the-mill Nova nor was she an entirely stable person, mentally speaking. The clan rarely saw her used outside of missions where she would voluntarily tag along because she felt like it. In most cases it left NQ's companions disturbed and liable to avoid her joining them in further assignments. Since two of the only Tenno who would tolerate her were away for whatever reason she had turned to further and further agitation until present events.

 

Trotting along with a sack slung over her shoulder NQ hummed a tune as she made her way through an infested corpus vessel. The location had been random on her part, she'd merely had the luck to land on Themisto. Since Nova-Quinn had a maxed out energy siphon all she had to do was conjure up some of her defensive particle thingies and the infested would leave her alone. The black and red colored female barely had any trouble from them at all, however, due to the fact she was being watched by ancients for her...unusual behavioral streak.

 

Finding a large room Nova-Quinn set up so that she could see all the way across diagonally to where an elevator room lay currently unused. Holding her thumbs and forefingers up as if she were framing a painting or a photo NQ took aim and activated her Wormhole ability. With the trajectory now set Nova-Quinn couldn't stop from giggling as she opened the sack she'd been carrying to allow several of its contents to roll out.

 

Potatoes...golden as the sun and numerous as the stars.

 

Taking no heed of the consequences Nova-Quinn had raided one of the clan's locked vaults and pilfered a fair number of the things, finding them highly amusing for projectile entertainment. Taking the first one, NQ lined it up with her portal and set a miniscule antimatter charge just underneath it. When her work was done the giddy Tenno set her sights on the doorway. The explosion was enough to make some poor walker leave the safety of the elevator room in curiosity just in time to get beaned in the head with a potato with enough force it was downed. Holding her sides NQ fell onto her back laughing as hard as she could muster. "Ten points to hufflepuff!" She squealed as she started to calm down, setting up another potato projectile.

 

Any hidden ancients watching, the Golem included in the number, stared with every single eye at their disposal simply...dumbfounded at what had just happened. There wasn't even any collective sympathy for the poor walker that had gotten hit, just a stunned silence in the nearby collective. It had to be coincidence, after all this Tenno had never displayed cunning in any other instance she had been encountered. Continuing to observe the Nova, the collective found itself bound by curiosity.

 

The next potato flew through the wormhole and hit off one of the windows toward the ceiling, after which NQ re-adjusted her starting point so as not to cause a premature lack of oxygen on the ship. Another potato flew high, bouncing off several objects before landing somewhat softly onto the back of the still-downed walker. "Five points!" Nova-Quinn shouted as she pumped her fists in the air just before readying another starchy missile. The process repeated itself until she was down to the final potato in her possession. It wasn't like she was going to just go retrieve the ones she'd thrown, that was WORK and she wanted to play.

 

Setting up the final potato in the original starting spot she lit up a charge and watched the elevator room intently. By now the ancients watching her were fairly convinced the beaning of the walker was coincidence. Before the charge could go off Nova-Quinn suddenly sprinted across the room and moved the unconscious, slightly-buried, and likely-dead walker out of the way and placed a cheesecake where its head had been. Tapping her chin she moved it slightly further away from the door and dashed back to her watching spot just as the charge blew.

 

Right on schedule, a Loki-clad Tenno walked through the elevator looking rather confused -likely from the lack of infested on a Themisto mission- looking around a little before he spied the cheesecake. Further left in the dark the Loki began to bend over and inspect the delicious dessert only to get hit in the head with a glorious golden spud and faceplant into the cheesecake.

 

"HAH! Never gets old!" Once again NQ was clutching her sides laughing her warframe off though this time she was leaving the area to go back home, thoroughly sated in her need for fun. The ancients were just too stupefied by the spectacle to even want to attack the downed Loki, despite the twitching indicating his lively-hood.

[Aigloblam]

Aigloblam finally made it back to his Barracks on the bottom level of the Dojo. His fingers ached from his 4 hour job, only recently completed. Just before he dozed off to sleep in his RegenChamber, he chuckled as he played through possible outcomes of his "crime".

 

Over the last few months he had sampled some of the best potato dishes any carbon based life form had ever eaten, and had also seen the stocks of these precious tubers dwindle dangerously low. At last count there were four crates left, with the next shipment due to arrive in a little under a month. After stashing one in his hidden storage locker, He had taken off his suit gloves, and carefully placed micro detonators inside each and every spud in the remaining crates. These packed just enough power to reduce the potato to chunky mush, but only 6 seconds after its proximity sensor was triggered by a Warframe's power signature. He had written the protocols himself, to prevent them from exploding when cooked or ingested. The next time somebody used these magnificent things as just another practical joke, they would find themselves in a very sticky situation.

 

********************

 

He isnt too good at well though out jokes....but he is at least trying :)

[Darayas]

Hey, I read this on anotherthread! Great to see it here. great work :)

 

You shouldnt be writing Warframe stories. Don't get me wrong, its was an Excellent story, thats not the issue. The issue you is that your style for some reason screams at me that you should write your own story arcs. Warframe seems too...Simple for you. I can't even imagine what you could do given complete freedom and no premade story to go along with it. If you simply MUST write something fan-fic-ish...Id suggest writing an MTG Novel. I'd pay actual money to buy what you write, No pirating involved.... From me, there can be no higher praise.

*Applause*

Thanks guys! I've been reading the stories on this thread, and they're as diverse as they are high in caliber, so this is high praise indeed. I've always wanted to try my hand at writing a novel of my own, but for now I'm content to work within the Warframe universe - I think the fact that the lore is so undeveloped makes it the perfect playground for creative writers like us, and it's quite fun building worlds and histories :)

 

Anyway, here's the next bit. It was on the other thread too, but I'm going to post in installments to break it up the wall of text...also to give me buffer time to write the concluding chapter ;)

 

--

 

An Ancient has just entered the terrace. It has blown its way through the rock walls of the Elephant Gate with the sheer force of its hateful, twisted musculature. Multi-faceted eyes atop what passes for its head twinkle with the iridescence of animal malice. Sick light, made filthy by the cloud of dust, invests it like the robes of some unholy daemon.

 

A sharp tang of decay wafts off wet black flesh, puckering above the ripple of muscles attached to translucent skin in a way that isn’t even remotely human. Its right arm is a deformed spur of misaligned fibrous tissue, ending in an amorphous clump of bone and flesh. Its left ends at the elbow in an amputated, gaping hole, coughing a rumble of disease and acid from the orifice. A jagged halo of bone crowns the beast like a pagan god.

 

This is the shaping of mankind’s nightmares into featureless form. It is a wonder they have not been driven mad by the insanity of it all.

 

Khanda is the first to recover his senses. He spins his Orthos in a slow figure-eight with the assured promise of violence. “Tear it to pieces,” he orders.

 

Oudh has risen. He has drawn his Boltor, and it opens up with a dry bark. Flesh-shredding bolts tear into the Ancient and turn it into a meaty pincushion. Everything about the Boltor is designed for stopping power – crafted in the finest of Tenno artificer-halls, its chamber, barrel, and ammunition have all been forged to stagger and push back.

 

It has hardly slowed the Ancient.

 

Oudh’s weapon runs empty with a hollow click. He is about to engage with his tulwar, to meet the slow and purposeful advance of the monster, but Khanda is already there. The Castellan uses the reach and sharpness of his long polearm to maximum effect. He cuts and slices divots out of the Infested’s bulbous body, but it is like sinking a blade into a thick block of foam. The beast seems to register no pain at all, and the sheer mass of the Ancient’s flesh begins to suffocate the cutting edge of the Orthos.

 

With a contemptuous, thundering backhand, the Ancient slaps the Tenno away.

 

Khanda impacts against the far wall. He can feel his ribs broken in three places. It is hard to breathe with his lungs on fire.

 

Himachal, face blazing with fury, slips his helm back over his head and staggers forward. He has his Fragor held in a drunken grip, his movements more controlled by the weight of the hammer than the other way round. The weapon barrels wildly forward and hits the Ancient like a thunderclap. Viscera spray paints the walls and its neck snaps backward violently. For a moment, Khanda almost believes it is about to die.

 

But he forgets that it is Infested – that the concepts and limits of natural anatomy are lost on monsters that are built on anything but.

Himachal has made a fatal error. Destructive as it is, the shorter range of the Fragor has brought him straight into the Ancient’s corridor of attack, and it is a mistake that the Infested exploits immediately.

 

Gas wheezes from the monster’s maw. Wrapping its grotesquely distended right arm around Himachal like a constrictor’s grip, it discharges the fetid plague-smoke of its left appendage onto the Tenno. It leaves him to crash to the floor, wracked by vomit-spasms and seizures.

 

Khanda forces himself to his feet. His legs feel leaden and his arms cannot move for the burning sensation that is spreading from his solar plexus. His Excalibur’s quick triage-diagnosis reveals two organs punctured by the shards of his shattered rib-cage. Serotonin and combat drugs dispense from the suit’s intravenous connections, flooding his system, numbing the pain.

 

Oudh is busy dragging the other stricken Seneschal to safety. He’s drawn his Furis, and is discharging the entire magazine into the Ancient – but if the Boltor couldn’t stop it, the smaller calibre of the automatic pistol has no chance.

 

The Castellan prepares himself to charge. A wounded Tenno is a Tenno no less – transhuman, martial. Built for war. Built, birthed, to bury his blade in the wounds of his enemy, even as his own body is rent and torn. Better to die with honour than survive in shame.

 

Khanda does not, however, get the chance to martyr himself.  

 

to be continued

[Darayas]

:) I completed the story last night. As usual, I'll be posting in installments so it isn't such a hefty load to read all at once...it comes up to 13 pages in Microsoft Word.

 

Cookies for anyone who gets the easter egg in this chapter, hinting at the origins of a certain Infested weapon we can wield in-game...

 

--

 

Through the ruined gate, moving far faster than anything of that size should be able to, is another Tenno. The transverse crest of horsehair atop his helm marks him out as a Castellan, too. His fleetness of foot beggars belief. The warrior is built like a tank, all plated metal, and beneath that, all bunched muscle.

 

The Ancient, busy trying to dismember a frantic Oudh, has not yet noticed him.

 

With a roar that shakes the dust from the broken marble of the Elephant Gate, the warrior slams into the Infested with such reverberating force that he actually staggers it. Mailed fists pummel deeply and relentlessly; the haymakers first pulp soft, limp flesh, and then fracture bone.

The Tenno plunges his hand into the puckering ravage that he’s made out of the Ancient’s back. He reaches, finds what he’s looking for, and rips.

 

The beast’s spine comes clean out of its system in an apocalyptic release of gore.

 

Inexplicably, the Ancient is not yet done. Its unnatural assemblage of bone structure is still enough of a scaffold to prop up its meat-bag body. It is powered on by pure malice, pure hatred. Whatever counts for its nervous system is a mere formality. Like a consumptive bull, hateful, blood-jet eyes turn to focus on the newcomer. Insectoid mandibles chitter in anger.

 

The Infested is not done, but neither is the Tenno.

 

He wields the sundered spine of the monster like a sword, and brings the razor edges of shattered bone down onto the Ancient. He cleaves through its face, messily shearing off gobbets of cancerous tissue, even as the spine-sword itself still drips with viscera. Then he draws a Scindo from his back, and lines the Ancient up for the killing blow.

 

Ancient flesh is tenacious. The plague’s genetic code is engineered to reknit torn tissue, and takes advantage of haemorrhaging cancer cells to grow new meat where it has broken. Swords of lesser make have often made a dozen cuts on the flesh of bio-forms, only to have these wounds healed over before the last laceration has even been made. But the regenerative qualities of the Ancient cannot stand up to the sublime balance and razor-keenness of a Scindo’s monomolecular edge – and not, not even for a moment, a Scindo driven violently downwards by a transhuman arm.

 

The two halves of the Ancient flop wetly into the dust.

 

“Grendel,” says the Tenno as he kicks at the Ancient’s steaming corpse. “It was termed Grendel. I’ve been hunting this one for days.”

 

Khanda winces in pain as he walks towards the other Castellan. With the tumult of the fight subsiding, he can see clearer amidst the haze and blood-smoke particulated by the violence of every blow traded. The Tenno is clad in a Rhino warframe, burnished in the magenta and teal that are the trademark colours of the warrior-monks’ finest fighters.

 

“We were in quite a spot back there. You have my thanks,” he says, and extends his hand to the Rhino.

 

“Wait!” Himachal gasps. Oudh is trying to hold the severely wounded Seneschal back, but he keeps scrabbling desperately forward. “Wait!”

 

“When the psionic blast happened, I saw into the Ancient’s mind,” he hisses breathlessly. His face is drawn with pain. “It…it touched something. S…Someone.”

 

The Rhino begins to advance. “Castellan,” he says quietly. “Come here.”

 

“Don’t!” Himachal insists, his voice throbbing with the cut of pain. “Listen to me! I felt it! It pried past flesh, past will. Tenno shouldn’t be prone to infection, but it…it happened.  It touched something’s soul and took it over. It touched the Rhino.”

 

Khanda’s Orthos snaps forward. The pinpoint edge of the blade is pointed straight at the Rhino’s chest. The Rhino stands, arms akimbo in a non-threatening gesture. His right hand is still grasping the Scindo tight.

 

“Castellan,” he says slowly. “Step away.”

 

“Stay back,” Khanda warns, his eyes fixed straight on the other Tenno. “I don’t know what it is that’s going on, but you’d better stay back.”

 

“Everything he’s said is true,” admits the Rhino quietly, “except for one thing.”

 

The Rhino moves closer.

 

“It was your Seneschal that was touched by the Ancient.”

 

Khanda hears bones crack. Sinew stretches taut to breaking point and beyond. Fat melts like wax dripping. A ribcage expands like bony wings and snaps open. Arms distend, tendons and bones twisting, breaking, reforming, and breaking again. The air is suddenly full of blowflies. Khanda can feel a gurgling jackal-growl at his back.

 

The Seneschal’s mouth elongates and splits into four mandibles, smearing broken skin and tissue against a tearing warframe that cannot contain the black flesh germinating from within.

 

Himachal laughs, and explodes Oudh’s head between his jaws in a shower of blood.

 

to be continued

Edited September 28, 2013 by Darayas

[frostycmc]

"Why do I have to be the one to talk to him?" Tyranthius complained.

 

"Because you've known him longer than me!" Anya pushed the elder Tenno towards Loki's door. Loud sobbing can be heard within the normally cheerful trickster's room.

 

"But I hate him!"

 

"Get in there!"

 

"What's going on?"

 

Anya spun to face her mentor, letting Tyranthius fall flat on his back as she stopped pushing him.

 

"I was just worried about Loki." She answered. "He hasn't come out of his room all day. I couldn't find you, and Ty has known him almost as long, so..."

 

Excalibur frowned. Loki may be irritating most of the time, but he genuinely liked cheering people up when they were feeling down. Many of the Tenno gave Loki credit for being able to make them smile again after failing a mission, or even losing a teammate. And X had known the thief longer than any of them.

 

But if this was what he thought it was...

 

"Let me through." 

 

Anya and Tyranthius stood aside as Excalibur opened the door.

 

 

 

 

Loki sat in the middle of the room, cradling his Dakra Prime as though it were a delicate child, talking to it in a comforting tone.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dakra! We just met, and you cut Infested so beautifully in the short time we were together, and I love your Fury mods so much. But I'm leaving you. I have the Galatine building now. Don't give me that look! Maybe if you could cut five enemies at once... No, I'm sorry, don't cry! That was uncalled for, and I'm sorry..."

 

 

Excalibur sighed as he went to comfort his sobbing friend.

 

Every damn time he got a new weapon...

 

 

 

This is pretty much my reaction after working so hard to get the Dakra, only for them to release an even cooler sword right after I finally get my hands on it.

[Darayas]

XD the mire.....a ancient's spine....looks like it could be that also. I like it so far keep going.

Good job ;) 

Your wish is my command...next installment below! I've also written a short story about the Grineer, titled 'Goodnight, Dad', which can be found here: https://forums.warframe.com/index.php?/topic/114033-goodnight-dad-a-grineer-fanfic/

 

--

 

Khanda swears as the un-Himachal bears down on him. The weight of its frogspawn flesh bowls him over, and it begins to savage his armour, tearing away at synth-skin with gibbering mania. It presses down on broken ribs that grind against each other. He can feel the edges of his bones scraping against the outside of his lungs. Pain cores through his torso, sending his metabolic reactions into overdrive. Grunting, he kicks the technocyte monstrosity off with great effort and scrabbles to retrieve his Orthos.

 

The Rhino hasn’t been idle. He puts his sizeable bulk between the downed Excalibur and the creature, laying into it with the double-edge of the Scindo. With every vicious hack, the monster loses both temerity and form. It shrinks back, whispering in mad tongues. Black beetle-skin loses iridescence, muscles shrink. Bone knits back into human composition. Boils burst and the pus sloughs off the suit beneath in torrents of mucus.

 

It’s as if Himachal never turned.

 

Khanda is taking no chances. Combat drugs and overworked anabolic reactions propel him upwards and forwards. He tackles Himachal, if it is even still Himachal, to the ground.

 

“What. Are. You!” he screams as he pummels his Seneschal in the face. Half-formed words, in part animal, in part recognizable, gabber from Himachal’s mouth in grunts of protest. The first punch snaps Himachal’s neck violently to the side. The second caves in part of the forehead region. The third crazes a visor lens; the fourth cracks it open.

 

Inside, Himachal’s desperate eyes – once an amethyst shade – are a hideous, sick orange.

 

Khanda pauses. Silence suffocates the courtyard like still heat.

 

“Prop him up,” he says softly to the Rhino, who duly holds the dazed Himachal in position.

 

Khanda steps backwards and picks up his Orthos. Then he runs forward, and stabs. Cold Orokin metal enters Himachal’s midriff, shattering his solar plexus, and explodes from between his scapula in a generous spill of blood to pin him to the wall.

 

Three Tenno first entered the courtyard through the gateway. The only survivor out of the cell now falls to his knees in the blood-stained dust.

 

“Are you alright?” The Rhino asks tentatively.

 

Khanda turns to regard him. “Am I alright?” he repeats. “Nagpur City is falling around us as we speak. The Tenno Cells sent to contain the infection are failing. I just lost my entire squad. One of them, dead by the hand of his own brother. The other, once sworn to purity and shielded from the virulent clutches of the plague – turned into some…some thing.”

 

Khanda draws a deep breath. “So, to answer your question: no, I am not alright. Nothing is alright. Everything is all wrong. The universe has turned upside down.”

 

The Rhino, unsure of what to say, places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. His Scindo is still dripping gore. Himachal, still pinned to the wall, is beginning to moan. He sounds almost human again.

 

“What is your name?” Khanda asks.

 

“Bevulf,” replies the Rhino. “My name’s Bevulf. Castellan to Cell Nineteen, originally. They detached me to hunt down the Ancient that attacked you and turned him,” he gestures to the impaled Seneschal.

 

Khanda nods. “Do you have a ship, Bevulf?”

 

“A snub fighter, in orbit above the Kepler Line.”

 

“Help me break off the portion of the wall he’s pinned to, and bring it to the snub,” Khanda says.

 

“What do you hope to gain from that?” Bevulf questions.

 

Weary eyes narrow behind the Excalibur’s visor.

 

“Answers.”

*

 

to be continued

[Aigloblam]

So, somehow i totally missed the story of Crowley and the stupid Nekros student, the one wearing fire-palette colors. I finally went back and read it....it was incredible. I also really liked the idea of a Tenno that just refuses to learn, refuses to follow the teachings of his masters. So i decided to push the clock forward a bit, see what hes like in the real world. Apparently, it got interesting. He didn't have a name, So i gave him one: Sundrus.

 

*****************************************************************************************************

I - Partings

Four Tenno stood in a small room inside a carrier, waiting for drop-off on their latest missions. Nova-Quinn had already geared up and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She smelled faintly of cherries, a sweet scent to be sure, but mixed with the smell of Ozone that results after a molecular primed object explodes. In her mind, the two different smells were one and the same.

 

Nova-Quinn had been selected for an Extermination mission near Pluto. Extremely high level Corpus swarmed over the site of a recently discovered Orokin ship. It was a very dangerous mission, but the perky little Nova was nearing the end of her Teachings. She had become a One-Frame-Army, and everyone knew it. She was years ahead of normal training, She had surpassed all but a handfull of Tenno, and each of those were now Masters of their craft, Teachers. Only the social interaction of the others kept her from graduating the academy 3 years early.

 

Standing together behind Nova-Quinn, Heus and Zel spoke quietly. They were glancing nervously at Sundrus, who sat in a corner with his feet propped up and loud music blaring from his in-helmet Comms unit. He obviously had absolutely no hint of fear or respect for the deadly situation they were about to be dropped into. Heus looked down from his towering height above Zel and whispered to her "The guy makes me nervous...He just doesn't seem to care about anything but killing. Its just not right..."

 

Zel nodded a bit and replied "I don't think Crowley scared him enough. It only took him three days to get back to being just as cocky and stupid as before. Tyranthius told me if it were up to him, He'd be kicked out ages ago. And I think X and Aigloblam are ready to lock him up if he mouths off to them one more time." After a few moments of silence between the two, Zel patted Heus on the shoulder gently "Its ok big guy, Theres nothing the two of us can't handle together. Even if it means having to drag his sorry &#! out of trouble....again".

 

Heus smiled inside his mask, nodding. Even though he had bested her with a sword in most every sparring match they had, He had an idea what she was capable of, having heard the stories of the ship she turned to slag on the inside a few months ago. And she had a Point, With his raw power and her quick thinking, he really wasn't worried about anything they might run in to. The only reserves he had were about Sundrus.

 

The ship slowed the a crawl and Nova-Quinn stepped toward the hatch leading to the Snub fighter that would drop her off on the ball of ice and corpus. Zel took a few quick steps and placed her hand on Nova-Quinn's shoulder, stopping her. As the warrior turned around, Zel held out her hand. "Whats this?" Nova-Quinn asked, taking the small tube from Zel's hand.

 

"Its Chapstick...pretty rare to get but even with that helmet on, it can work wonders for your comfort. I hear its pretty cold down there...." Zel told her.

Nova-Quinn opened the top and smelled the bright red substance. A look of bliss and a sigh brightened the room. "Its Cherry! Oh wow this is amazing!" she said, wrapping her arms around Zel and squeezing. Once she let go Zel nodded to her "Good luck down there, Maybe someday i'll get another Solo Op like you". Nova-Quinn said "You will, just keep an eye on...Dark Matters while you're on mission today, Ok?" Zel nodded and walked back to stand beside Heus, as Nova-Quinn was launched on the underside of the Snub fighter, the scent of Cherry still hanging in the air. None of them, Including Nova-Quinn, had any idea of the living hell she was about to journey through, alone.

 

II - Derelict

 

Three hours had passed since drop off, and the three Tenno searched through the ruins of the Orokin ship. They had killed several swarms of infested along the way, but none of them strong enough to even count as a battle. Zel had casually reduced the smaller creatures to ash in mere seconds, While the ancients were handled just as quickly by Heus. Deciding to save energy, just in case, He dispatched them with his bare hands like a kid with a sand castle. Now their search had taken them deep into the ship, where hardly any lighting still operated.

 

"Do you hear something?" Zel asked quietly, her Zorens in her hand.

 

"No, i dont hear anything. Why?" came the answer from Heus.

"Thats the problem, I don't hear any music...." she whispered.

They weren't aware of how long Sundrus had been missing. He had never said a word since checking in with the Lotus two hours ago. Zel and Heus turned around and started to backtrack through the ship, looking for the fiery colored Tenno. Eventually they caught his trail. He had hacked through growing vines and taken a dirty tunnel to the lower levels of the ship. The other two followed quickly so that they might catch up with him before he triggered a trap or got overwhelmed by enemies. He had neither Zel's intelligence or Heus combat abilities, so either option was likely. After trailing him for quite some time, both Tenno stopped in their tracks. They had heard something that they didn't care for one tiny bit. They heard Sundrus, unquestioningly Sundrus, But not his music, or the sound of his weapons. They heard Laughter.

 

**************************************

 

Ok thats all for now, don't mean to leave it on edge like that....Should i finish the rest later today or let somebody else take over?

[Aigloblam]

III - Dark Phear

 

Zel and Heus shared a look of concern and a little fright. They knew of the violent tendencies of Sundrus, Not only toward enemies, but also fellow Tenno. They knew of his lust for power, only slowed by the senior officer, Crowley. Sundrus had never fogiven him for that, teacher or otherwise. He had been humiliated in front of his peers inside that room, and again at a conference, when Tyranthius showed the recording to a psychiatrist.

 

The two slowly crept into the room, It was huge! The ceiling disappeared into lofty blackness. The walls were only faintly visible due to a strange purple light that flowed and danced over their corroded metal. In the center of the room stood Sundrus. In one hand he held an oblong metal shape that was well known to the Tenno: an Orokin Reactor. These held the secret energies of the Orokin, which could sometimes, with the help of an expert, be added to a warframe to improve upon its powers. In the other hand Sundrus held a smaller chunk of metal. It didn't glow at all, but its power was obvious to the well educated Tenno. This was what the Orokin had dubed a "Forma". It held the power to align the energies of both warframe and orokin technology together into a cohesive power source that gave a Warframe almost God-like power.

 

Zel grabbed Heus' arm to keep him from running into the room and ripping the objects out of Sundrus' hands. She quietly whispered to him "No please don't...We don't know what they ...he...is capable of!" As she spoke, the mountainous strength of Heus pulled her along for a few inches, before the massive Tenno realized she was right. They both crouched down and kept watching, unsure what was the best option. This was never part of their training.

 

Sundrus kept laughing to himself, as he fiddled with the access panels on the Reactor, obviously trying to open up the ancient device. Every time he found a new panel or sliding section of metal, he laughed again, sounding farther and farther from the sound any sane Tenno could make.

 

Zel had been too distracted by the creepy noises coming from Sundrus to really understand what was going on. But Heus, having spent much more time than Zel around the great Foundry Research Lab, finally figured out the goal, And became terrified. Ignoring Zel's hand this time, he strode proudly out into the room, his voice echoing loud and clear. "Sundrus! Put that down! You're going to get us all killed screwing around with that kind of power!"

 

With a start, Sundrus snapped his head up to look at Heus, his reply came back coated in venom and anger "F*** You! I found this, Its mine! Im going to be more than that stupid ancient &#! teacher could ever dream of!"

 

His suspicions confirmed, Heus stepped forward three more paces, pulling his heavily modified Braton off his shoulder harness. He leveled it at Sundrus, taking a bead right for the crimson painted throat plate. "Put them down, Sundrus, Or im going to have to do very bad things." he said slowly.

 

They had known each other for months now, but when Sundrus looked at Heus this time, He saw not a young Tenno in training, Not a Classmate or even an enemy from a sparring match. This time, He saw the truth of Heus' identity. He saw a proud Tenno warrior in full control of his training and battle instincts. He saw defeat, and vehemently refused it.

 

With a quick motion, Sundrus shoved the Forma into the open port on the left side of the Reactor, and was instantly hidden from view in a blinding flash of light. Before the warrior's helmet could react enough to get things back into focus, Heus felt his Braton blasted out of his hand. It clattered to the floor and slid out into the hallway, past Zel's feet. She had barely had time to react, but had managed to slip back into the cover of the hallway before being blinded.

 

"You are weak...Brother" came the voice of Sundrus, slightly distorted as though it came from both everywhere, and nowhere at once. "You are all Weak! How long have you and the rest held to your old, useless teaching? We have the power of Gods, Yet we must be taught by decrepit old geezers how to use what we were born to use? Never Again!"

 

A wave of power blasted from Sundrus, it knocked Heus over onto his back and pushed Zel farther down the hallway, still out of sight. Heus jumped back to his feet. He wasn't asking this time. He drew his Lato and fired 6 rounds at the seemingly unprotected head of Sundrus, only to see the bullets flash into nonexistence inches from the now levitating Nekros.

 

More laughter from Sundrus. "Cute, Crowley teach you to shoot like that?" and with a light chuckle, he shot a beam of golden energy directly into Heus chest, throwing the large tenno across the room, smashing him into a pillar at great speed. Sundrus walked slowly to Heus, beam still pinning him against the wall despite all the struggles. "Im going to kill you, Then, im going to go to your pathetic Academy and kill every one of your stupid @(*()$ teachers and your useless friends...One By One. Ajkrumen, Kalenath, Khimera, Aigloblam, Nova-Quinn, Tyranthius, Crowley..Especially Crow-OOF!" he was knocked aside as a Fireball came streaking through the room.

 

Sundrus half stood, half Levitated himself back upright and growled at Zel as Heus picked himself up. Zel strode into the room, each step letting her anger be felt. Shimmering heat waves could be seen above her body. "You will not touch them" she said almost calmly, not quite enough to hide the shaking of her temper had decided to afflict her with at this moment.

Sundrus smiled and almost jovially replied "Is that so?" and raised his arms. Using the power of the Ractor, channeled through the Forma into his own frame, Sundrus called forth not his normal small group of NanoGhosts, but a multitude of them. They seemed to coalesce in mid air and then to drop heavily on the ground. Hundreds of chargers and Crewmen, a squadron of Healers, and more Heavy Gunners than Heus or Zel had ever seen in one place before. All of them vivid red and shimmering.  The room quickly filled with peals of gunfire and the sounds of shuffling feet. Heus tried to jump at Sundrus, but before he got half way to his goal, Sundrus whipped his hand around, and Heus was knocked from the air by the entire body of a Grineer Scorpion NanoGhost. 

 

Sundrus rose on red and gold tinted vapors, and hung suspended in the air, pointing at the targets for his personal army. "You don't seem to understand, I'm not one of you, I am better. I am the End" he cried, his voice filling the room with malice. Every single NanoGhost started toward Zel and Heus.

 

Zel activated her Overheat mode, her body became sheathed in purple flames, a barrier she hoped would last. Heus stood beside her, His Lato already firing round after round into the oncoming hoard. Every bullet found its mark, and each target dissolved out of existence, but Heus could see that he would never have enough ammo. Zel drew her Soma and fired alongside Heus, mowing down scores of NanoGhosts, making the heads of the Heavy Gunners pop like exploding potatoes. They fired on, watching as the crowd thinned slowly. Almost at the same instant, both of their guns ran dry. "Behind me!" Zel screamed, and increased power to her overheat generators. Bullets melted as they impacted her blazing aura. Heus knelt down behind her and pulled the Acrid that hung from her hip, ignoring the way his suits fingertips sizzled his own flesh as he reached into her aura of flame. He leveled the acrid and fired again and again. When there were  only a few rounds left in the Acrid's tank, he saw Zel sink to one knee. Her fire had gone out and she was taking a lot of hits to her shield.

 

Heus whispered to her "Stay here...ill hold them off" as he drew his Gram from its place on his back. As Zel fell back onto the floor, exhausted from the effort of shielding both of them, Heus stood to his full height and let loose a loud bellow that would make any Rhino proud. He charged into the wall of approaching enemies. When he came closer, he stomped the ground and with his suits energy, jagged ice crystals sprang into being on the floor, shooting into the enemy lines. NanoGhosts were ripped to shreds on both sides. Heus dove into the gap that his ice wave had created and became a giant monster of his own. The Gram flashed this way and that, lopping off heads, arms, and cleaving through torsos in rapid succession. As he performed his deadly dance with the NanoGhosts, he lifted his left hand occasionally and froze an enemy or two, only to kick their frozen corpses into others, ridding him of both.

 

Zel's Ember suit detected exhaustion, and injected full strength epinephrin into her blood stream. Seconds later, Zel lifted her head and saw the carnage that Heus was creating. She had known his skill with a blade, mostly first hand. But she gasped in Awe as the huge bulky frost frame moved with savage elegance. In less than 30 seconds he had killed more with his Gram than he had with his Firearms. She sprang to her feet and dove into the crowd with her Zorens lashing out at unbelievable speed. Her Rubedo blades sunk into the spongy NanoGhost flesh of a Heavy Gunner. It lifted its Gorgon and brought it smashing down toward Zel's head. Heus turned at lightning speed and grabbed the Gorgon with his hand. In an instant it turned to a giant shard of ice and was pushed through the NanoGhost's face. Heus felt a brush of heat under him and Zel leaped between his legs, slicing through the knees of a Ancient Healer who had already launched its tentacle at Heus. Both Tenno turned back around at the same time, realizing that somehow, there were no longer any enemies, Save for one.

 

IV - Legends

 

Sundrus snarled furiously. "Pitiful..simply pitiful! As powerful as my Ghosts are.. and still i must do this myself?". He pointed at Zel and a split second later, she felt the impact on her chest. She was flung back against Heus, and they both tumbled to the floor. As they slowly got up, the laughter of Sundrus started again. He smiled at them, "So like i said, Im going to kill a great many people....And im going to enjoy every second of it. Starting with you". He pointed again at Zel, and dove straight at her, a wickedly gleaming Orthos extending from his hands, heading for Zel's throat.

 

Heus didn't have time to parry this dive, so he did the only thing he thought could save Zel. He kicked her, Hard, on her left hip. She slid across the floor just in time to hear the blade of the Orthos stab into the metal floor. The very next thing she heard was a shocked UMPH. Rolling onto her back, she saw Heus had tackled Sundrus, pinning him to the ground with the huge powerful arms of his warframe. Heus bellowed again, this time both pain and fear punctuated his words "Zel! Do it! Burn!"

 

Zel started to pull her thoughts together, taking deep breaths to be able to concentrate. Heus interrupted her after only a few seconds, he sounded more scared this time "Like last time, We cant beat him like this, it has to be your way! Burn it all!"

 

After a vicious headbutt, Sundrus snarled at Heus "You can't do that to me, I am your death!' his hands started to glow with golden power as he screamed loudly "I am ...Your Reckoning!" and again energy exploded from him, tossing Hues aside like a rag doll.

 

The words of Sundrus awoke the same feeling in Zel that she had felt before, during the night she lost it and melted most of an entire ship to slag. She now knew what Heus had wanted, She knew that he hadn't planned on walking out of this alive. Instead of fighting for control, This time Zel gave in completely. Instantly her whole body turned bright white, forcing Heus to turn away or have his retinas burnt and rendered as useless as Zel's own left eye. Heus had seen an Ember use World On Fire, but this felt different. He felt no heat, he felt not one single bit of heat from Zel's direction. He should have been baking inside his suit, but somehow he wasn't. He opened his eyes and although bright, he could see very well what was going on.

 

Zel walked slowly toward Sundrus, and with every step she pulsed with power. He had brought up a shield of the golden energy, but it was soon to be useless under this kind of assault. Heus could see the cone of heat and force that extended out in front of Zel by observing how the floor was slowly melting, small drops forming and instantly being shot across the room. Zel lifted her hands and slowly started clenching her fists. Almost too late, Heus realized what was about to happen. He ran around behind her and wrapped his arms around her small frame. He felt parts of his suit vaporize instantly, but his skin somehow remained unburnt. He felt a tremor ripple through the young Zel's body, and with every ounce of power she could muster, she blew The Reactor, Forma, Sundrus, and the entire side of the ship to nothingness. No debris remained, everything in front of her had been utterly obliterated.

 

Zel knew nothing more, as she slipped instantly into a coma and slumped in Heus arms. As the Vacuum of space jerked both Tenno out of the Orokin Derelict, Heus engaged his Emergency beacon and did the only thing he knew how to do in this situation. He hugged Zel tightly to him, and let his CryoGenerators slip into Vent mode. All his remaining energy streamed out in a giant pulse of gas, Gas less than 0.003 Degrees from Absolute Zero. In a rush, the moisture in the air froze around the two nearly dead Tenno, encasing them in a 15 foot long spike of Ice so clear it looked as if it were made of Diamond.

 

Together in a Frozen embrace, the Tenno and the Ice shard they were in shot into deep space, as the Orokin ship imploded on itself. The last things that went through Heus mind before it froze solid, was the glimmer of hope that he may have saved himself and Zel, and a faint smell of Cherries

 

 

[Ajkrumen]

Zel was the first to regain consciousness. The last thing she remembered was her suit running low. Fatigue was setting in. Then she remembered rocketing out of the Derelict, seeing the ship imploding. She recalled a tight embrace, but she couldn't place the cause of it. She noticed Aigloblam sitting in the room, staring at her with a worried expression. As soon as he noticed that she woke up, he rushed over to her side.

 

"Zel! Are you okay?!"

 

"nnngh. Why are we here...?"

 

"That's to be determined in a few minutes." 

 

"Heus! Heus! What the hell happened?!" Ajkrumen rushed over to his apprentice to the bed right next to Zel.

 

Instead of saying anything, Heus grabbed his master's hand and started to transmit the footage his built-in helmet cam recorded. All Tenno faced the giant supercomputer on the wall. They saw a bright flash, then a  swarm of nano-ghosts. A loud bellow, a Gram slashing through the horde. They saw Zel, expending the last of her energy. They saw as Heus ran to her and grabbed the frame, chunks of his suit burning off from the intensity of the blaze. As he looked back on the derelict imploding, they saw a petite figure and a bright flash of red. The camera flickered and went black. Ajkrumen turned his gaze back to Heus. He was shocked beyond words at what his apprentice had accomplished. "Meet me at the Foundry when you are able.." was all he could muster.

 

With slow and graceful steps, the giant frame walked out as if in a daze. 

 

Heus stared after his master, and back at Zel. Aigloblam looked at the Frost. He walked over and grasped the initiate's hand.

 

"Thank you.." he whispered. As he left, Heus looked over at Zel. The Ember slipped back to unconsciousness. Heus decided it was time for another nap.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More coming later. :) 

Edited September 29, 2013 by Ajkrumen

[Ajkrumen]

When he was able, Heus got up from the bed and began walking down the halls. He went to the range and saw his master standing beside a crate. 

 

"More training?"

 

"No. You are still recovering. Besides, from what I have seen, I daresay you leave very little room for improvement."

 

"Master, don't be r-"

"No. Your bravery and your readiness to sacrifice yourself for your fellow Tenno displays true greatness."

 

"Thank you, but I require no reward."

 

"I see you have recovered your Lato and Gram."

 

"Yes, sir. My Braton was lost in the implosion. I was planning to go to the foundry and put in an order for a new Braton."

 

'No need, Heus. Take a look inside the crate."

 

As he looked, an expression of awe came across the Initiate's face. "Where did you get this?!"

 

"I put it together with some parts I found in the Orokin Towers hidden in the void"

 

"I really don't think a Tenno of my ra-"

 

"I will not have any of that. Heus, you are greater than you know. Normally, those are reserved for elder Tenno on account of their rarity and power. I showed them the recording and they agreed to let it pass. This is my gift to you. You are worthy of this weapon."

 

In his hands, Heus held a Braton Prime. He cradled the weapon, tracing the intricate details of the rifle.

 

"Also, give this to Zel for me. From what I understand of her account, she has saved your life with that inferno of hers."

 

He passed a Forma and an Orokin Reactor to Heus. 

 

"Tell her that she has my deepest thanks. If I lost you to some arrogant hotshot I don't know what I would do."

 

Ajkrumen clapped Heus on the shoulder. "I cannot express my pride in the courage that you have shown. You truly know what it means to be a Tenno." 

 

Heus walked out to Zel's quarters, awestruck.

[Darayas]

Thanks guys. I've been following the new stories, and I loved the fight scene with Sundrus - very well choreographed :) Also excited to see Kalenath's entry into the thread!

I have no doubt that if you put your mind to it, you could be a published author someday, Darayas.

Thanks frosty, I've actually always wanted to be an author haha, but we'll have to see if that can earn me a salary when I do come of age ;)

 

I went away for a few days and when I come back... :D
Loving all of the new stories. Also Darayas, how much detail are you putting into your Orokin world-time?
 

Well, it's still early days, and most of the time I'm just name-dropping terms and labels like Nagpur City or the Kepler Line. I have some idea of how I'm linking the Orokin era to modern-day Warframe, but beyond that I haven't developed it much, apart from a sense of developed military structure and hierarchy. To me, the Tenno in the days of the Orokin must've been a military force without parallel, and the fragmented splinter cells of today must be but a shadow of that.

 

Anyway, here's the next installment! Props if you catch the reference to a certain shadowy figure we're all familiar with...

 

--

 

The snub is wreathed in darkness. The only light, streaming sadly through the plas-steel observation window, comes from the fires of the burning planet far below. The metal beneath Khanda’s feet feels colder than the void.

 

“If it helps,” says Bevulf, sharpening the edges of a Skana in the far corner, “you should know that your Seneschal wasn’t the first to have turned. There were reports from other cells of operatives that similarly…mutated.”

 

Khanda stares at Himachal as he writhes in pain. The Orthos still impales him to the detached chunk of masonry, like a specimen in a laboratory pinned to a glass slide. The Castellan shakes his head slowly.

 

“What is this madness,” he murmurs. “Were we not immune to the plague?”

 

The whetting knife makes a piercing shrrk as it hones the edges of the Skana. It sounds, disturbingly, almost organic to Khanda. Like the scraping of feet in a dusty courtyard, or…

 

Or the crunch of bone as a maw from the darkest of man’s nightmares closes around Oudh’s head.

 

“We were supposed to be, originally,” Bevulf explains. Shrrk, shrrk, shrrk. “We are, after all, their flesh. The bio-tech used to build the first Warframes was a strain of the technocyte virus. Immunity was a given.”

 

Shrrk, shrrk, shrrk.

 

“And then?”

 

“And then the virus changed, as viruses always do. Sure, it took millennia, but the moment we decided to weaponize larger quantities to wipe out the Sentients, that opened the floodgates for the strain to…erupt. It’s not just hungry, it’s ravenous. It’ll stop at nothing to eat, and whatever it finds in its path that it cannot consume, it will evolve to do so.”

 

The Rhino strides over to look out the observation window. “We should’ve anticipated this from the start.”

 

“Some might say we did, in a way,” Khanda offers. “The first Tenno. Hayde –”

 

“We don’t speak his name anymore,” Bevulf snaps. “He was the first and only traitor. At least the ones that turned because of the plague never did so by conscious choice.”

 

“That was aeons ago,” says Khanda, “before even the Orokin era. There are those that speculate he went rogue because of the decision to use the technocyte in the production of the first Warframes.”

 

“Any man who attacks a Tenno is no brother of mine, whatever the reason,” rumbles Bevulf in a gravel tone that sounds like thunder. “And the Turncoat is still loose, out there amongst the stars. He preys upon weak or straggler cells, like some stalker in the void.”

 

Shrrk, shrrk, shrrk.

 

Bevulf turns to regard the struggling Himachal. “What will you do with this one?” he asks.

 

“He’s just as in the dark as we are. No explanations given in the last hour – only apologies.”

 

“I’m sorry, my lord,” rasps Himachal. “I never intended…”

 

“I think he’s gone,” Bevulf says.

 

“What happened, Himachal?” Khanda asks softly. None of the blood smearing Himachal’s mouthplate is his own, but the Castellan is no more able to execute his Seneschal than he is to shake off the bonds of brotherhood that tie the Cell together.

 

“The Ancient’s smoke got into the wound,” Himachal grits his teeth. “I could feel some kind of primordial darkness taking hold of my consciousness. I tried to fight it, but I wasn’t strong enough. Everything went black. And when I awoke –”

 

“You know there is only one option, Khanda,” Bevulf interrupts.

 

The Excalibur refuses. “There must be a way to cleanse him.”

 

Bevulf points to the Skana.

 

“Not that,” Khanda insists. “I won’t believe that he’s lost for good.”

 

“Look for yourself,” Bevulf gestures.

 

Khanda looks to the spread-eagled figure of his Seneschal. The harsh lighting of the fires from outside casts looming, writhing shadows on the decking of the snub. The silhouette belongs to neither man nor Warframe. It belongs to a monstrous Ancient.

 

Khanda recoils from the sight.

 

The Rhino walks over to Himachal’s miserable body. He dips the Skana in an adjacent pot of oil, and sets it alight. Fire licks down the blade in hungry, burning tongues.

 

“I’m sorry,” Himachal whispers again.

 

“I know.”

 

The Skana leaves a trail of smoke as it arcs down to cleave Himachal’s head from his shoulders.

 

*

 

to be concluded

Edited September 29, 2013 by Darayas

[Kalenath]

The Life of Vauban

He was whistling his favorite tune. He truly had no idea why it was called 'The Liberty Bell March' ((

)) but it was catchy and fun and he needed the diversion from the horrors. So much craziness going on. When Karl had asked him to join the clan that the Rhino had formed, Ric had jumped at the chance. Karl was a legend. A quiet and modest legend, but a legend. He had informed his former clan leader -who had been...ambivalent, Ric wasn't that well liked through no fault of his own.-and packed his meager things. Mostly unfinished projects.

He had not been prepared for what had greeted him on arrival. He had thought himself ready. What a fool. Nothing could have prepared him for what he had encountered. A Grineer(!), a cyborg medic, a human medic, a human tech and a human soldier had greeted him on his arrival at the dojo. Only three other Tenno had been in residence at that point. Will, Alicia and Two were good Tenno. Karl, called Karl Sensei by the others, had been patient as Ric had moved in and set up. Then Aeron had arrived and...well... Ric hadn't been sure about that. But then Jac! Then the tech had left and... His whistling faltered for a moment as he remembered what had happened to Mari. But he was smiling under his helmet as he recalled his last conversation with Cecelia. He shook his head a little, bemused by the thought -even now- of a talking, joking MOA. She liked 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail' which was also a bit...disconcerting. He paused a voice sounded inside his head.

Multiple Biosignatures Detected. The Lotus said calmly. We have Infested incoming.

Well, duh, my dear. Ric said back, to no answer. It is an Infested ship. Well... To work then.

The other Tenno who had come with him on this mission looked at him oddly as he started to whistle again. He shrugged as he prepared.

"First... I summon the Bureau of Funny Walks!" Ric said as he dropped Tesla traps around one of the ramps leading up to the Orokin cryo pod his team was defending. The Frost who stood at the pod stared at him and shook his head slowly. "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Ric said with a fake sneer as the first Charger jumped down and was hit by three different bolts of electricity, making it jerk and dance. Yes, it seemed to walk funny. Right before it keeled over, died and vanished. The Teslas started to cycle as other Infested charged.

A quick flip and Bastille surrounded the entire area as the walls came alive with leaping forms. Ric's Soma was rock steady as he found a good spot on some crates and picked off enemies with short, quick bursts. The Soma was a marvelous weapon. He joked on occasion that even a King might not find it amiss to carry one.

"Uh uh..." Ric said with snap as a huge form started to shamble up the ramp bridge tot the pod. The Ancient was heavily armored and Ric's soma wasn't that well equipped to handle armor. Yet anyway. He was fiddling with things in his limited spare time. He wasn't the marksman Aeron was, but he was no slouch either. He didn't really need to be. He threw an object. "Who would cross this bridge of death must answer me these questions three!"

The Ancient that was exuding green malfeasance ignored him and ran toward the pod. It hit the Bounce Pad and went flying. It would find it's way back up to the pod eventually, but it would take a while. Hopefully, the extraction team would have arrived and they would be gone by then. More Infested charged up the ramp and more went flying.

"Probably didn't know the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow..." Ric said mildly to the Frost who shook his head but continued to fire with his Boltor. "I am a knight who says 'Ni'!" He said as he picked off another Leaper with a precise three round burst from his Soma.

"You are crazy." The Frost's voice held admiration and worry in equal measure. "Oh no..."

Ric spun to see their two team mates being overwhelmed. The pair of Tenno -an Ember and a Volt- had been working as team to disrupt the enemy lines of attack. The Ember was down and the Volt was trying desperately to revive her. But Ancients were closing in.

" Do me a favor..." Ric said as he pulled a small object form one of his trap containers. "Thou shalt count to three. Thou shalt not count to four. Five is 'Right Out'!"

"Just do it!" The Frost cried as the Infested swarmed the other two Tenno. Ric shrugged and tossed the Vortex grenade into their midst. The Infested were suddenly pulled into a micro sized singularity, but due to their techno organic armor, the Tenno were unaffected.

"Have no fear, brother." Ric said quietly as silence descended on the battlefield. "The enemy are no match for the 'Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch'."

"You are crazy." The Volt said as he helped the Ember back to the pod.

"At least I didn't do what Bedivere would have suggested. I didn't make a Trojan Bunny." Ric said as his companions groaned. "But I do demand... a shrubbery!" He said with a lilt as a warning of another wave of Infested approaching sounded. He reset his traps and did a little jig.

 

"I have no intention of eating anyone." Ric said calmly. "Robin's minstrels are not here. At least it is not the Black Beast of Aaaaaaaargggggh. We have got this."

Edited September 29, 2013 by Kalenath

[Tyranthius]

All right, I'm back, and I have my NEKROS. If anyone could give me any ideas on how I should introduce him, I'd appreciate it.

 

Oh, and great to see you here again, Kalenath. Madness was great.

 

Tyranthius looked at the bottle in his hand. It was peculiar; not only was the bottle actually made of glass, the liquid within seemed to have a life of its own. It seethed and frothed, though he held the bottle perfectly still. He couldn't really decide what color it was, and the longer he looked at it, the surer he was that he saw indistinct faces in it.

 

'Are you certain you wish to proceed, Tyranthius?' asked a NEKROS from behind him. The one they called Crowley. He, Tyranthius had decided, should have at the very least some knowledge on dredging up repressed memories.

 

"Yes. But really, what color is it?"

 

This seemed to amuse the sepulchral Tenno. 'In truth, it has no colour. Seen by ones such as I, it is perfectly clear, and faceless for that matter. I assume you have been seeing faces?' Tyranthius nodded. 'I might remind you that it has driven many of its imbibers to madness. It might be best to simply forget.'

 

Tyranthius managed a chuckle. "That's what got me here in the first place." And with that, he un-stoppered the bottle, and drank it all in three swallows. He looked around. "I don't think it's work-"

 

Then all went dark.

 

*****

 

Tyranthius woke up as though he had slept for days. He found it strange that he woke standing up. He perused his surroundings: He was in an Orokin Tower, somewhere in the Void. All seemed to be devoid of color, and yet, the moment he noticed this, color flooded his senses, restoring the Tower to its chrome and gold.

 

Strange, he thought. He was, or had been, in Crowley's training room. He remembered he had been there for a reason. Something important, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember. Did I go temporarily insane again? He thought. It wouldn't be the first time he experienced such a memory episode, but his musings were interrupted.

 

"Hey Ty! Quit staring into space, we've got a Tower to clear!" came a loud, boisterous voice. Tyranthius nearly jumped out of his Warframe, and saw the speaker. He was in a RHINO, a Fragor strapped to his back, a Gorgon in his hands, and a Bronco at his hip. Menoetius. He remembered clearly, though now that he thought about it, he had no cause to forget. He had met Menoetius in his Initiation Rite, with them being the four who won the battle royale. Then that means...

 

He looked wildly, and was not disappointed: He saw Calladus in his EXCALIBUR. Calladus the Indomitable, he was known; he had never once lost a sword fight, and he fought his duels with a Skana. He had brought his best though; a Jaw Sword in his hands, a Latron Prime in his mag-sheathe, and a Lex in his holster.

 

And the last, he saw her. A SARYN, clutching Fang daggers, Paris and quiver locked to her back, and just for irony's sake, Dual Vipers. Tyranthius knew that if she slid up her face plate, he would see a pale face framed in blonde, set with the most startling gray eyes; shrewd, mocking, and calculating all at once. Alyssa, though they all called her "Hisser". What did Crowley put in that drink? Then, Wait, what drink? And who the hell's Crowley?

 

"You okay, Ty?" Calladus asked.

 

"As good as I'll ever be", answered Tyranthius automatically, wondering why he felt he had said it before.

 

Calladus nodded. "All right everyone, you've heard it from the Lotus. Get in, kill everything, get out. Simple, and we only have two of those to do."

 

"Let's smash some Corrupted &#!!" screamed Menoetius in his usual fashion. All the others just nodded, but Tyranthius had the strangest feeling that he'd been here before. Suddenly, he saw everything as though it were in a strange green color filter. "Ty, are you really okay?" asked Alyssa. 

 

"Wait, you don't see the green haze?" he said. The tint intensified, and with it came a headache.

 

"What green haze?" She turned her head from left to right. " I don't see anything. Maybe your visual systems are miscalibrated. I'd have that fixed if I were you."

 

Tyranthius was not satisfied with this explanation, yet seeing no alternative, he was forced to accept it. Once he did, he noticed the haze fade, and his headache lifted. He went with his squad deeper into the Tower, still feeling that something was off.

 

 

I'll have to finish this later, guys. Didn't really sleep all that much.

Edited September 29, 2013 by Tyranthius

[Darayas]

Tyranthius managed a chuckle. "That's what got me here in the first place." And with that, he un-stoppered the bottle, and drank it all in three swallows. He looked around. "I don't think it's work-"

 

Then all went dark.

This part got me ;p

 

Here's the conclusion to Expunge. Thrilling, ominous, awful...I leave that up to you to decide :) 

 

--

 

There is no time to grieve. They anoint Himachal’s headless body in unguents, load it into an escape cask, and send it floating adrift in the dark of space. A quick burst of the snub’s incendiary cannons turns the Seneschal’s final resting place into a blazing funeral pyre.

 

The snub leaves the orbit of Earth. Himachal’s burning pod slowly winks away into the distance like a pinprick of light, outshone by the conflagrations that wrack the planet below. Cities aflame light up continents in death-knell succession.

 

Other ships in space, great Orokin destroyers, yaw and shudder as they pivot. The armada trains their guns on the planet below, swivelling massive cannons about. There is a grand majesty to them as they strain to turn – the slow movement of titans, purposeful as they are inevitable.

 

Khanda and Bevulf know what is happening. The plague has gone virulent. It has grown and consumed and grown some more, to shatter merely pandemic levels. The cities of Earth, one by painful one, are falling. The Tenno in orbit have no choice but to activate extermination protocols. The armada will shell and pummel the planet into a dead world, and hope that the nuclear winter will be too barren for anything to grow.

 

The necessary side effects may, of course, include humanity. Whatever can germinate from that arid wreck will never be truly human.

 

Laser cannons open up. They lance down into the planet fast and sharp. They stab at the soil with brilliant, virulent intensity, wiping and scrubbing the overrun face of Earth with incandescent judgement. Pillars of energy flense Earth in slow, concentric movements. There are still Tenno Cells on the surface.

 

Woodland burns. Mountains melt. Rivers and oceans condense into a heavy fog, visible from orbit, that settles over the ruins of cities. Millions – millions – are lost in those singular moments of arbitration.

 

“What now?” whispers Khanda. One hand grips the rail of the observation deck tight. The other is pressed against the window, as if he can somehow punch through and reach down to save those who could not get spacebound in time.

 

“The armada is moving,” Bevulf says, checking his helmet’s comm-net feed. “Some of them are heading for slits in real-time space. They’re making for the Void to escape the plague, but not all of them will get there in time.”

 

“Is that an order?”

 

The Rhino shakes his head. “There are no orders. The plague has broken the chain of command. More than half our generals are missing; the High Lords and the Council are lost. There’s no more military, no more government. It’s every Tenno for himself.”

 

Khanda turns away from the window. “We’re too far away to dock with the armada. We won’t make it to the Void.”

 

Bevulf nods. “We can still throw in our lot with the right-wingers,” he offers.

 

“The Order of the Lotus? Those extremists?” Khanda wrinkles his nose in distaste.

 

“They’re our best hope at surviving the breakdown,” Bevulf shrugs. “The Lotus are suggesting ancient hibernation pods, scattered across the galaxy. We’ll remain preserved in cryo-sleep until such time as our awakening is needed. I’m already getting confirmation from thousands of Cells that are going the route of the pods.”

 

Khanda sighs heavily. Blossoming infernos erupt from the surface of the ruptured Earth, thousands of kilometres below. Plumes of fire billow and race across tectonic faultlines, glowing molten with the heat of a sun. He wonders if the now-desolate wasteland below will ever see an Empire rise again.

 

“Is this the end, then?” he asks.

 

“It could be a new beginning,” Bevulf replies. “We have no other choice besides.”

 

“Then we’ll do it,” the Excalibur says. “Then we’ll sleep. Tell me where the nearest pods are located.”

 

“Terminus,” answers the Rhino. “A little asteroid, just off the planet Mercury…”

 

fin

[Tyranthius]

While I think of ways to bring in my NEKROS and finish that story up there:

 

The ASH moved through the halls of the dojo. He had taken circuitous routes and secret passages in his journey. Hes destination was close; a room in the dojo. A room that only he knew existed. He must not be seen.

 

He saw a security camera overhead in the hallway. Sweeping motion pattern, basic cloak detection, angled at about 35 degrees. No problem. Quickly, he sprinted completely silently, and at that exactly correct moment, slid under the camera's field of vision. Perfect. He suppressed a laugh. He wasn't done yet. He entered the elevator at the end of the hallway and pressed the "close door" button. He checked the row of buttons to the dojo's multiple stories. Looking around, he revealed a hidden slot under the buttons and inserted a key-card into it. A new button revealed itself, larger and more ornate than the ones above it. Looking around again, he pressed the button.

 

He grew excited. Nobody knew what he was doing. It had taken so long; everything done in secret, the room commissioned to be a storage area that he removed from any plans and prints. And the items themselves.

 

The door opened. He stepped into a spacious room, filled with several metallic contraptions; pots with long vertical tubes. He checked the fruits of his labors. Twenty-three bottles already. And all he had to do to get the raw material was to steal from Tyranthius. He was his friend, and on some level the ASH thought it was wrong, but he remembered the time Tyranthius insulted his paintings of giant pandas, and all was justified.

 

He uncapped a bottle and took a tentative sip. He went into a coughing fit. Needs more water. It was amazingly strong. He thought of a perfect name for it. The Grineer word for poison: Vodka. He made the necessary adjustments, took another sip, and finally allowed himself to relax. This, Vallen decided, was indeed the life.

[frostycmc]

We'll have to work out some ground rules, such as weapons with flight time that hit primed Infested ( such as kunai, arrows, etc,) should probably be worth more points than a target hit with a bullet. Also, I prefer fresh pizza with my entertainment.

 

 

 

 

The two Initiate's high spirits fell as they entered the building that housed the main power supply. They crept to the edge of the balcony.

 

"We know the Tenno will come, my brothers! And we will be ready! So long as we protect the shield, they will never take the artifact!"

 

"Jeeze, did they gather every Crewman on the planet or what?" Lucid whispered as they peered over the edge.

 

A Corpus Elite was standing before a massive crowd of Corpus, far too many to Crush at once.They would have to find another way. Anya took note that there were no robots in the crowd. They must be protecting the artifact, she realized. A plan began to take form in her mind, as she recalled one of her teacher's first lessons.

 

"Theatricality and deception can be powerful agents to the uninitiated, Anya. Never forget that when facing a foe larger than yourself."

 

"Keep to the shadows, Lucid." Anya whispered. "And whatever you do, don't let yourself be seen." Her partner nodded, slinking back into the darkness.

 

Anys crept down the stairway towards the crowd, utilizing every bit of stealth she had learned from Loki as she pickpocketed several grenades. She didn't need half of it, as the crowd was still focused on their leader. She was ready to put her plan into motion.

 

 

"We shall be rewarded for our faith when we return! And return we shall, triumphant in vict- Urk!" The Elite clutched at his throat, red blossoming around the throwing star that had found its mark. At the same time, several grenades were set off around the room, deafening and terrifying the crowd.

 

"Tenno!" "It's the Tenno!" "We're all gonna die!"

 

Anya ran along the walls out of sight, throwing more Hikou into the group as she worked to add to what Loki would have called "Beautiful, beautiful chaos." Crewmen trampled each other in their haste to get out the doors, all but ignoring the few living captains trying desperately to restore order. Lucid grinned as she caught on, Pulling the captains off their feet to be buried under the rush.

 

In minutes the crowded room was empty. The two Initiates walked freely towards the power supply, sharing a grin and a fist bump as they did.

Edited September 29, 2013 by frostycmc

[Tyranthius]

Cookie Farming?

 

Steps echoed in the Grand Archive. Unnatural in sound; the sound of metal grating on marble, though not many would recognize it. Marble was all but nonexistent in buildings of this age, and the few that were left are ruins of a bygone era. The Grand Archive was once such a place. It was, in the time before the Orokins, a massive library in what was then called North America, its original name lost to time. When the wars came, the Archive served as a bomb shelter and a depository for hidden manuscripts. Partially preserved, it survived as a library until the rise of the Sisters, when the Empire ordered a great purge of literature.

 

The library itself was to be destroyed along with the treasures it once held. The plans were made, until a Grineer Marine Corps officer stepped in. Aside from his high rank, he was also ambassador for the Empire, and his clout was great enough to have the building itself preserved, in secret. From the outside, the building appears as another one of the endless factories that now litter what remains of Earth. From the inside, the marble was painstakingly restored to its former glory, the shelves were made of actual red mahogany, truly a rarity, perhaps even requiring genetic re-engineering to procure. The shelves' rarity, however, pales in comparison to the treasures they hold. From floor to ceiling, they were lined with books. Not datamasses, drives, or schematic globes, but actual paper and leather-backed books. Books containing forgotten knowledge; knowledge of an era long past. Knowledge on a specific facet of culture.

 

In the center, protected by a high-quality clear polymer casing, was a prime example of such. It featured a white front, evenly spaced dots, and a depiction of the objects in question.

 

Captain Vor took it carefully out of the casing, smiled and happily read his book, with its red and brown cursive lettering proudly proclaiming: Mrs. Fields Cookie Book.

Edited September 29, 2013 by Tyranthius

[khimera]

Cookie Farming?

 

Steps echoed in the Grand Archive. Unnatural in sound; the sound of metal grating on marble, though not many would recognize it. Marble was all but nonexistent in buildings of this age, and the few that were left are ruins of a bygone era. The Grand Archive was once such a place. It was, in the time before the Orokins, a massive library in what was then called North America, its original name lost to time. When the wars came, the Archive served as a bomb shelter and a depository for hidden manuscripts. Partially preserved, it survived as a library until the rise of the Sisters, when the Empire ordered a great purge of literature.

 

The library itself was to be destroyed along with the treasures it once held. The plans were made, until a Grineer Marine Corps officer stepped in. Aside from his high rank, he was also ambassador for the Empire, and his clout was great enough to have the building itself preserved, in secret. From the outside, the building appears as another one of the endless factories that now litter what remains of Earth. From the inside, the marble was painstakingly restored to its former glory, the shelves were made of actual red mahogany, truly a rarity, perhaps even requiring genetic re-engineering to procure. The shelves' rarity, however, pales in comparison to the treasures they hold. From floor to ceiling, they were lined with books. Not datamasses, drives, or schematic globes, but actual paper and leather-backed books. Books containing forgotten knowledge; knowledge of an era long past. Knowledge on a specific facet of culture.

 

In the center, protected by a high-quality clear polymer casing, was a prime example of such. It featured a white front, evenly spaced dots, and a depiction of the objects in question.

 

Captain Vor took it carefully out of the casing, smiled and happily read his book, with its red and brown cursive lettering proudly proclaiming: Mrs. Fields Cookie Book.

 

XD Oh. My. God.

 

And Suddenly...

 

Having monitored the data streams for hours as part of her current task, Nova-Quinn perked up as she read the most recently acquired intel. To most Tenno this information was useless but to Nova-Quinn and her assortment of like-minded friends it was so valuable that it topped finding an alert that gave you a forma. Hacking into the intercom system at terrifying lightning speed she linked it to her comms unit and took the deepest breath she could muster.

 

"CAPTAINVORHASARECIPEFORTHEBESTCOOKIESEVARSONEWREASONTOFARMTHEPOORBASTARDLETSGOBEATTHEEVERLIVINGS#&$OUTOFHISSORRYARMOREDASSWITHCHERRIESEXPLOSIONSANDFIREANDAWESOMEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~*" The eardrum-shattering declaration was cut off as NQ passed out from excitement and lack of oxygen to her brain. Lieing on the floor, twitching, the female Tenno was drooling in her helmet from pass-out dreams of delightful cookies.

 

The sound of heels clicking on the metal floor graced the data-monitoring room as a gold and black volt stepped inside. He as wearing one of the alternate helmets that made him look slightly like a hammer-head. With a sigh he crouched down to poke Nova-Quinn to ensure she was still alive. The groan she made left him somewhat relieved and disappointed all at once.

 

"Oh well...first day out of anger management and you decide to give me a headache. Nothing's changed, it seems, but that's good to know." Khimera sighed as he stood up and folded his arms, shifting his weight more over to one leg letting his hip jut out a little. The wasp-colored Volt had been away for some time, but it was a vacation that had been more than necessary. He'd been told by the resident Trinity he'd cause himself an aneurysm with all his anger if he let it build up any further. Plopping down in the monitoring chair, Khimera took over for his passed-out friend doing a vastly 'better' job of filtering the information. Mainly speaking any and all information on culinary discoveries being routed to a folded in the server entitled "Insanities - Special Personnel Only" of which his trio and a few others had the passcode to look into it. "I do hope Crowley is fitting in...wonder what he's been doing lately."

[Aigloblam]

As Tyranthius sat down for a couple hours of Meditation, he noticed a plain folder laying on the floor next to his meditation platform. He picked it up and read the enclosed page. It was clearly Aigloblam's handwriting.

     "Ty, I just got a notification from the bug I put in the "Insanities" folder. Apparently, Vor has the recipe for Cookies...I figured you might like to know."

 

In another set of chambers on the other side of the Compound, Zel and Heus were each reading a very similar note. They each looked up with the same gleam in their eyes.

 

Aigloblam slept peacefully, secure in his knowledge of what this meant.

The Game was Afoot.

[SilverBones]

Topic made for In-Character posting!