(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted August 21, 2018 Author Share Posted August 21, 2018 (edited) "In the end, could there have been any other outcome? The Empire was tired. Long had it grown complacent, arrogant and slothful; bloated from its own excess. Exhausted from endless days lived without meaning; free of hardship, bereft of purpose. We were not prepared to be challenged. From this collective lethargy sprung weakness. An ensnaring, insidious weed. This is why we were created. We, the House Eternal. The seed that survives the storm, long after the tree has fallen. Our agents are widespread, our roots deep. In time our efforts will bear fruit. We will rise again, and flourish. There is so much to be done. The Grineer horde maraud freely, their numbers unchecked. The Merchant Guilds continue to gorge themselves on the war economy; swelling their coffers even as their people starve. The rest of our once-great civilisation live in squalor, eking out an existence throughout the scattered colonies. We recognise the war that grips the Rail. The endless struggle between those scavengers who would bicker over our ashes; picking at the bones of what once was, and shall never be again. Unless we act. We are the House Eternal: the ultimate contingency. We shall not be found wanting." - Vitruvian 2-2 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Parson-Luk sweated as he helped Brakarr to his feet. The Grineer rose shakily; almost bringing an entire shelf of equipment down on top of them as he clung to it for support. His breathing still carried a wet rasp that alarmed the Ostron. He was a simple hunter. There was only so much he could do. Brakarr stumbled forward. His hand shot out, gripping the tarp that shrouded the object in the centre of the shed. The tarp wrenched free as Brakarr went down on his knee, heavily. The Ostron cursed him, fretting and fussing. "You lumbering mule! I said take it slow!" Brakarr didn't hear a word. He was too busy staring. The hover-limo was a grand thing: with a snarling chrome bonnet, stenciled in the livery of one of the Corpus Guilds. Small faith flags adorned the bonnet of the car. There was visibly nothing wrong with, but for a tiny scratch on one of its doors. Brakarr and Parson-Luk look at the limo. They look at each other. The Ostron scratched his head, wincing. "There's no way you'll fit, Surah." Brakarr snorted. He punched his fist clean through the window. There was a pealing squeal of tortured metal as Brakarr tore the roof of the car clean off. The Grineer didn't so much climb aboard as flop gracelessly onto the back seat. Such was his weight that the limo groaned on its landing struts. Brakarr propped his feet up on the back of the front seat, his hands resting on the scabbed belly of his war rig. He gave the Ostron a victorious grin that was entirely lost behind his faceplate. "Brakarr fit." Parson-Luk scowled at him. "Wait here." The Ostron readied himself before he stepped out the door. He smoothly unclipped his earrings; tying his necklace and beads together so that which rattled was made silent. He mired grease on his high cheekbones, matting the skin and dulling its surface. Finally, he wrapped a scarf around his mouth. Then he slipped into the smoke, and vanished into the gloom like a rumour. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Captain Theo Plun escalated his crew to a war footing. He crossed to the heart of the bridge, stepping up to his command throne. The armour rig encased his tattooed face in layer after layer of inter-locking plating. He was a tall and imposing figure. Had been bred for the role, in a very literal sense. Encased by the box-like helmet, he looked even more imposing. "I want those barges destroyed, immediately." Plun ordered. "Is the second wave prepared?" "Standing by." His XO confirmed. "Good. Prepare firing solutions." There was a commotion in one of the crew pits. Plun rose to his feet, irritated by the distraction. "New orders received, Captain!" one of the crewmen said, looking up from his console. "We're to hold position until further notice." "We're in an active deployment!" Captain Plun thundered. "On whose authority?!" As the answer came, Theo Plun was glad of the helmet. The colour drained from his face entirely. He cleared his throat, adjusting his jumpsuit reflexively. "I see. Very well. Tell the Board the message has been received, with thanks. All units, stand by until further notice." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Tenno stood looking at each other. The air was leaden, preciously brittle. Nobody spoke. Telin's voice cut in over the intercom, making them jump. "Uh, I hate to interrupt the secret meeting of the solemn Tenno association, but we've a problem here." They hurried for the bridge. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The hunter lay low on the roof of the utility shed, all but invisible between the boxy air processors and depowered holo-boards. Parson-Luk played his spyglass from one side of the horizon to the other, in a measured sweep. The Corpus army, while rattled, began to rally. They garrisoned the remains of Watch Control, which by this point more resembled a melted heap of slag than anything else. The hunter picked out crewmen looting work tools from the fallen Solaris that still littered the surface of the ziggurat. They hacked at the rock, trying to dig their way through to the central elevator shaft. The MOA formed a defensive perimeter, as their biological masters toiled with religious fervour. For all zeal, the rubble was going to hold them for some time. Parson-Luk frowned. There was no sign of Isolde. He swept the spyglass upwards. The barges then. The speed at which they fled the smoking wreckage told him enough. That was their exit. Their best shot of getting out of here. Of getting home. There was a sudden rumbling roar. Parson-Luk spun around. "Ito-da!" He rolled off the shed and took shelter right as the Orokin Barge's impulse drives surged to life. The shockwave sent a storm cloud of dust and billowing smoke washing over him. He choked and spluttered, eyes streaming. All was darkness, swirling black flog. And shimmering through the murk, that gilded Barge, finally blazing to life. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Telin watched the beast rise up through the black smoke. A gilded brute, it stood full three times larger than the Severance. Majestic and proud, it oozed elegant menace. Telin had never seen anything of its like before. Most tech he saw was of Corpus design: utilitarian, rectangular in aspect. Sophisticated certainly, but familiar. The Grineer wrecks they looted were altogether more cumbersome. Built for utilitarian war making, they tended to weather surface impact better. As alien and crude as they were, Telin understood them; they still seemed somewhat predictable. This was something else entirely. It was ancient. An antique, a piece of ribbed art wrought from materials unknown. Its prow was an armoured hammerhead. There were no visible turrets of any kind. That didn't reassure Telin. Not for the merest second. "Tell me that's not something we need to worry about." The look on Kael's face told him everything he needed to know. "Right. Figures." Telin keyed the com. "Eyes up Sobil: that's not a friendly." "What is these days?" Sobil's dry response crackled. "Standing by." "Shields forward." Telin instructed. For all the good it did. Kael saw the glow first. Had seen it before, a lifetime before, in the debris field above the planet's surface. He shouted a warning. Pohld's hands jolted the controls. There was a blinding light. Something slapped the Severance off-course. Everyone screamed. Pohld arms were all but wrenched from their sockets as he wrestled the controls. Across the ship, hatches blew inward. Pipes burst and flooded corridors with broiling steam or coolant that scalded flesh from bone. The energy cells overloaded; blowing the weapon crews clean across the room. Teico's console all but exploded, hissing sparks and fizzling. The shield's collapsed in an instant. Engineering reports were a bloodbath of red system failures. How the Severance remained airborne was a testament to Pohld's skill and the robustness of the ship's armour plating. Its surface was scorched, shorn of turrets and much of its starboard armour plating. It wobbled in the air, vomiting angry smoke in several places. The shot had not been aimed at the Severance at all. The Forward Transaction was simply gone. The air was filled with flaming shards of mangled debris that chunked down across the ruined Upper Tier like meteorites. Telin clambered back into his command throne. "Report!" he rasped. Stren was unconscious, a wicked bump visibly swelling on his bleeding forehead. Kelpo took his post. "Shields down, hull breaches on three decks." There was more data than he could process. "Mass casualties." "Weapons?" Kelpo just shook his head in despair. "Power to engines. Pohld get us out of here!" "Working on it Chief!" Pohld gritted his teeth as he pushed the throttle. The engines audibly wheezed. "Pohld!" Telin bristled. The Severance was barely limping through the air. "Trying, Captain! Any faster and the core's going to blow!" A voice cut in over the open broadcast line. The accent was clipped, as measured and polished as Kael and Isolde. "To the crew of the Severance Package, power down immediately. Any further resistance will be summarily dealt with. There will be no further warnings." Pohld glanced at Telin, sweating. Telin was stricken, his face a conflicted mask of frustration. They had been so close! A heavy metal hand set itself on the back of his command throne. Volt looked down at him. "This is our fight, Telin Voss. You've done all you can. Land the ship." Telin nodded, numbly. He hissed through his teeth. "Put her down, Pohld. Teico, get me a casualty report. I want repair details moving asap." Kelpo looked at Kael. "I hope you know what you're doing, kid." Volt looked at him, the Frame's domelike head impassive. "So do I." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Volt moved quickly as the Severance began a trembling descent to the ruins of the Upper Tier. The Liset lay abandoned in the main cargo hold, lost amidst so many other looted bits of salvage. Its systems were entirely dead, and the crews had stripped samples from the desiccated hull. Kael clambered aboard, all but marching to the chamber where the Somatic Link had encased him in a cryo-pod so many centuries before. The link itself had been stripped for parts. The pod was forgotten, just another lump of metal the scavengers could trade for scrap. He had been in a hurry, when he fled the base on Mars. He was in a hurry now, but there were some detours worth making. The sword lay where it had been ever since he awoke, forgotten at the base of the cryo-pod. Sohren's sword, glinting at the bottom of the casket. A priceless artefact, entirely overlooked in the carnage of the preceding days. Volt picked it up, feeling its familiar weight in his hands. Now, he was ready. Now he could see this through. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Severance kissed down in the open clearing; a sorry wreck. The Corpus army watched them from afar, set on their dig. They had their orders. The Orokin Barge's belly hatch opened as it kissed down a mere five hundred metres from the Severance. The architecture and motion of the landing gear was seamless, almost organic. The Warframes stepped out onto the smoking battlefield, beneath the shadow of the ravaged Severance. The colony around them lay in ruin, a bystander in a war that long predated its existence. The four Tenno paused, watching. An honour guard files down the ramp of the Orokin Barge. They were golden warriors, dressed in splendid armour not seen in centuries. The Dax carried long halberds, adorned with the banners of The House Eternal. They lined the ramp, fanning out in a broad formation. It was bewildering to see so many of them still alive and together in a single place. Dread and nostalgia fill the Tenno in equal measure. "This is it." Isolde said. Mesa's targeting monocle was already logging distances, noting trajectories and windage. "It is." Kael nodded. "Tell me you have a plan beyond killing everything." Doric rolls Atlas' heavy shoulders with a click. Isolde didn't reply. "I have a plan." Sara announced. They all looked at her. Mirage planted hands on her hips defensively. "What? Don't give me that look. I do." "Do share." Doric invites her with a gracious bow. "Please." Isolde nodded coolly. "By all means." Eythan Dax approached, flanked on both sides by a personal guard. Sara spoke while they were out of earshot, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "We let them take us aboard. They bring us to their leader. We kill him. Then we kill the rest of them. Then take the ship, save the colony. Live forever as heroes. Simple." "You do know that's just another variation of killing everything, don't you?" Doric observed. "Works for me." Isolde shrugged. "Hear, Hear." Kael murmured, watching the Dax come closer and closer. "Isolde, a favour; if I may." "Yes, Kael?" "Restrain yourself. I know you want blood. And blood is surely coming. But bide your time. There are lives at stake." Mesa, tense as a coiled spring, nodded after a moment. "You have my word. But when the time comes, make no mistake: that Dax is mine to bury, and mine alone." "Very well." Eythan Dax stopped a hundred feet from the Tenno. The Tenno stepped forward to meet him. Physically the Warframes cut more imposing figures, though the Orokin guards did not lack size or muscle. If Eythan Dax was intimidated in any way, it did not show. His armour had been cleaned, but the bruising from his duel with Vern was evident. His helmet was notably dented on one side. Kael stepped forward. He could feel the hatred radiating from Isolde. Better that he do the talking. "Eythan Dax." Kael bowed slightly. "Tenno Kael." The Dax returned the bow. "My Lord wishes me to inform you that any further resistance will result in the immediate destruction of your companions, and the subsequent and indeed total destruction of this colony from orbit. None will be spared. All will be ash." "The Corpus won't like that." Doric remarked. "This is our colony, not theirs." Eythan Dax countered coldly. "To do with as we see fit. And, I can assure you, my Lord does not possess a capacity for understatement." "Your Lord will be a corpse, and you along with him." Isolde hissed. "Isolde." Kael warned reproachfully. Eythan Dax smiled coldly, bemused at the exchange. "I'm sure. But first, a bit of housekeeping." Eythan Dax extended a hand, looking at Isolde brazenly. "My sword?" Isolde didn't budge. Kael looked at her. Mesa begrudgingly cast the Dax's sword on the ground before her. It snapped smoothly up into the Dax's hands with a magnetic hum, then clicked back into its sheath. "Splendid. Now, if you'll follow me." He turned on his heel, and led them toward the waiting ramp. Telin and the others watched helplessly on the bridge as the Tenno disappeared into the belly of the ancient ship, surrounded on all sides by warriors of The House Eternal. Edited August 22, 2018 by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aldrr Posted August 21, 2018 Share Posted August 21, 2018 (edited) Spoiler Quote We are the House Eternal: the ultimate contingency. We shall not be found wanting." Is this just pride / boasting, or we're about to see something to back these words up with? If House Eternal really is a contingency plan, even in the present, I find myself wondering, just how much damage Isolde really did? How big is this "Orokin Remnant"? This barge and its crew? Or she just "broke a branch or two", and Septimus still commands an attack force large enough to threaten the entire system? Quote any further resistance will result in the immediate destruction of your companions, and the subsequent and indeed total destruction of this colony from orbit. None will be spared. All will be ash [...] This is our colony, not theirs. That command to put the Corpus attack on hold came from the Board... at least, that's what the captain told the crew. Does the House have some measure of influence over the Corpus? But if all they had to do is just whisper "Back off, or else!" in someone's ear, that's a very big bluff. Or... we, Corpus included, are all going to be surprised when an Orokin fleet shows up from nowhere? 😛 Yep, Isolde would be a terrible negotiator at any table. >.< Edited August 21, 2018 by Aldrr Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Julian_Skies Posted August 21, 2018 Share Posted August 21, 2018 1 hour ago, Aldrr said: Hide contents Is this just pride / boasting, or we're about to see something to back these words up with? If House Eternal really is a contingency plan, even in the present, I find myself wondering, just how much damage Isolde really did? How big is this "Orokin Remnant"? This barge and its crew? Or she just "broke a branch or two", and Septimus still commands an attack force large enough to threaten the entire system? That command to put the Corpus attack on hold came from the Board... at least, that's what the captain told the crew. Does the House have some measure of influence over the Corpus? But if all they had to do is just whisper "Back off, or else!" in someone's ear, that's a very big bluff. Or... we, Corpus included, are all going to be surprised when an Orokin fleet shows up from nowhere? 😛 Yep, Isolde would be a terrible negotiator at any table. >.< Remember, a few chapters back he BOUGHT the colony. A moment before war broke out Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aldrr Posted August 21, 2018 Share Posted August 21, 2018 (edited) 1 hour ago, Julian_Skies said: Remember, a few chapters back he BOUGHT the colony. A moment before war broke out At the beginning of a later chapter, we learn that Nef Anyo ordered the Dominant Position to raze the colony. Bombard it to ash if needed. So we don't know how much of the deal was official, over the table. It could've been a local, under-the-grass bribe that looked like official, in order to get the "governor" out of the way. Maybe it really was House Eternal that, through its agents, called off the Corpus attack. Or maybe it was the Board's own decision, knowing that the House is about to rain down hell on the place, and they want to keep that cruiser in orbit out of it. Anyone already on the ground? Collateral losses. It sounds like a standoff to me. Whose real problem are the Tenno and how far they're willing to go to deal with them / get them under control? And it seems the Corpus are going "hands-off" because the place is about to get stomped. Either way, we'll see. 😉 Edited August 22, 2018 by Aldrr Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted August 23, 2018 Author Share Posted August 23, 2018 "And so the time for further recordings is over. The path ahead is clear. Actions will determine our outcome. Theirs, and mine. I go now to meet them. I must admit that I am, to a certain degree, nervous. Long have I pictured this moment. Of bonds renewed. Of an order restored. And reunions." - Vitruvian 2:1 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Dax led them up the ramp and through a golden corridor threaded with loops of flowing silver. The threshold ahead was dark. The Tenno stepped into the gloom together. Into the past. It was as it had always been. The far wall was a giant banner of the House Eternal; bronze and splendid, set into the walls; in stark bas-relief. The throne room was dimly lit. Even in the gloom, its layout was all too familiar; etched in their collective memory. They could see the steps of the dais, the stonework lovingly wrought into the deck. Seamlessly integrated. It was if the House Eternal's reception hall had simply been transplanted into the heart of the ship itself. The resources required to reproduce such a scene were staggering. Shallow pools of water edged the chamber, underlit by lamps that cast dancing reflections against the ceiling. Brilliant orange coy jinked and flitted, inane mouths jawing endlessly. A familiar voice called to them in the dark. In the clipped tones of the Orokin dialect. Precise and calm; tinged with a gravel that skirted the realm between rasp and growl. And yet still, familiar. "What happened to those, who buried our Empire? Did we pursue them, put them to the sword? Enact swift and terrible justice, as the Seven demanded for countless generations?" The four Tenno of The House Eternal stepped forward. The Dax filed in two separate directions, taking assigned positions along the edge of the chamber, moving as one. The voice continued, rich and melodious. "No. We let them sleep. Watched as our civilisation became ruin, as our people starved and our borders crumbled from within. We bade our time: for a moment when magnificence became memory; the truth of our power little more than a faded footnote of a history long forgotten." The shadow arose from his throne, tall and imposing. "Now that wait is ended. Now, we are ascendant." The figure stepped forward, into the light. Sohren stared down at them, a soft smile on his face. "My Brothers and Sisters." Sohren bowed graciously. "I bid you welcome. My, but it has been some time." It was Sohren but not as they remembered. He was older. A man, fully grown; handsome and proud. His face was lined with laughter lines, his eyes pinched with a knowing humour. Long hair spilled back down to his shoulders in a golden mane, tied in a warrior's bun. He wore the armour of a Dax, adorned with that flowing cloak of pristine white. Twinned nikana adorned his left hip, an unusual pairing. Their hilts were studded with gemstones, that danced in the half-light. Sohren regarded them, a wondrous smile frozen upon his face. The Warframes looked at one another. As one, the Tenno materialised before their frames, stepping forward hesitantly. It was instinctual. Isolde and Kael, taken aback. Sara, her eyes saucers of wonder. Only Doric stood back, arms folded. When Sara went to rush forward Doric stopped her, a forestalling hand clamping on her arm. The expression on his face was grave. Sohren blinked twice, the smile faltering ever so slightly. "Is something the matter, friends?" he asked. "Everything is the matter." Doric retorted, as he released Sara's arm. "This is not the man you remember, Tenno. Not in the ways that count." "Wise Doric, you wound me." Sohren descended the steps, as the lights in the chamber glowed brighter, responding to his every movement. "It is true that I have changed. Aged, certainly. I awoke many years ago. Decades, in fact. But I can assure you I am a Tenno, same as you. The same Tenno that trained with you, served with you. Bled with you." Sohren stopped before Kael. A gauntleted hand swallowed Kael's shoulder. Kael stared at it, then at Sohren. "Friend Kael. I still remember my fury, when they ambushed you above the planet's surface. Such loyalty. Know that such an order came from Septimus, and Septimus alone. He paid the price for his treachery." Kael looked at Doric, entirely uncertain. His taller friend's face was pinched with a scowl. Before Doric could speak, Isolde snarled and started forward. Criss-crossing halberds blocked her path with a resounding flash. The Dax had moved with lightning speed. "Enough lies. You wear their armour. You command them." Isolde spat at Eythan Dax. "Those that enslaved us. Used us as a weapon!" "A weapon that stopped the Sentient." Sohren replied levelly. "That saved us from certain destruction." "So it's us now?" Doric questioned softly. Sohren snorted in disbelief. "I see. You think they got to me. That Septimus wears me, like some sorry puppet." Sohren's smile was rueful. "For all your wisdom, Friend Doric, you think so little of me. I'm just a swordsman to you, a dutiful soldier." Doric looked at him with a grave sense of pity. "Any wisdom I might possess is born of research, Septimus. We know all about the Orokin, and their wretched Continuity. What they did to Sohren. What they would have done to us all, in time." Doric shook his head. "No, I see your lies for what they are. The man who was our friend is dead." Sohren looked at each of them in turn. The suspicion and grief etched upon their faces. He smiled, reassuringly. "Far from it, Friend Doric. I am very much alive. For years I have waited for this moment, when the five of us might be together once more. You were right about me once. I was a mere soldier. A dutiful servant. Now I command the warriors of The Last Cadre, loyal and true." The Dax thumbed the bottom of their halberds off the ground in dutiful response. "To what end?" Doric asked, warily. "Why to the only end that matters." Sohren blinked. "The restoration of the Empire." An invisible storm cloud gathered in the air above the Tenno. An electric tension. "I don't know if you noticed, Sohren, but that ship sailed centuries ago." Sara replied. "Little more than old ruins and the occasional broken sculpture." "It is true that the Origin System is in a state of flux." Sohren granted, gesturing from his left to his right. "The Grineer armies on one side, the Corpus and their fleets on the other. But we are not helpless." Sohren turned and waved a gauntleted hand. A holographic display swirled to life above them. It showed the planet in exacting detail. The orbital defence grid, the various ships in traffic to and from the habitable portions of the planet. The Dominant Position, hovering in high orbit over Prospect 141. The isolated settlements and remote factories; the atmospheric facilities and lonely prison colonies where so many Solaris eked out a miserable existence deep beneath the planet's surface. The level of information was unprecedented. "Tactical reports, fed live from the Board's most secure internal network." Sohren waved his hand again. The view spread out. A wider view of the Origin System now. Venus and Jupiter. Frozen Europa. The Corpus strongholds on Neptune. Trade routes and links throughout the Rail. Real time feeds on ship movements and currency exchanges. A tableau that could only be compiled by many lifetimes of research. "How did you get this?" Doric breathed. "I have been around a very long time, Friend Doric. As the Corpus grew and flourished, so too did my own network of spies and infiltrators. The Merchant Guilds rely on proxies so often that replacing them is easier than one might expect." Sohren's smile was ruthless. "Board membership has its privileges, I can assure you." "So you're one of them now?" Sara asked, visibly sickened. "Only when it suits me." Sohren replied. "And right now it suits me. Observe." Sohren opened fist and the display exploded, showing the Origin System in its totality. He swiped his hand in the air. Flashpoints and major conflict zones rippled a ruby red, spreading like a ravenous cancer. It was in constant state of flux. "The System is in a deadlock. An impasse. The Corpus have the material, manpower and logistics necessary to sustain a successful campaign against the Grineer. To prosecute a war fully, and win; with the right direction and sustained commitment. They choose not to, of course, because the present conflict is measured, predictable. Profitable, above all else. The Grineer invade, and are repelled. The Corpus expand, and are in turn met by a corresponding counter-invasions in return. Each side lacking the strategic foresight, each side ably assisted in their inadequacy by the Tenno and their Lotus, a wild card who explores no agenda but her own." Sohren shook his head, sadly. "Equilibrium is kept, and the Board's credit balance continues to sky-rocket. Nothing changes." Sohren clenched his fist. The busy display vanished in an instant. "I would see this deadlock broken." "How?" Doric asked. "There is a vacuum in the System. An absence of leadership only we can fill. We alone have access to Orokin technology necessary to upset the balance. We can't act in the open, not directly. But the Corpus Navy is a powerful tool. My agents are everywhere, well positioned; waiting for the right signal, the right moment. We can turn the tide, marshal the Corpus' forces from within. A guiding force. An invisible hand." "You're right. You're so much more than a soldier." Doric shook his head. "You're a mad man. And an arrogant fool, to think you can control the Corpus." Sohren's eyes blazed at that. "The only fools I see are the ones standing before me! What must it take for you to see sense, Tenno? What more can I say?!" Finally Kael spoke. "There's nothing you can say." The Tenno's voice was low as he studied the floor, despondent. "I knew Sohren. How he thought, how he fought. He led us; not because he was ambitious, or for any dreams of conquest or glory. But because he was the best. Not for him, these lofty speeches and grandiose displays." Kael looked up, meeting Sohren's gaze openly. "He would never call us fools, as you do now." Sohren's expression became granite. "Nothing has changed, Brother. It is me, your sword-brother. Your friend." Kael drew the blade from Volt's sheath. Sohren's ancient sword scraped free. The Dax's sheathes shivered as they drew steel as one. Kael ignored them. He held the nikana levelled at Sohren, heedless of the dozen swords and spear tips pointed at him. "Prove it." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Parson-Luk grunted as he lugged the rotary cannon into the back of the now open-top limousine. Brakarr gleefully took it in his hands, balancing it over the back as he settled into a position that allowed him sweep it left to right at his leisure. Comfort and destruction. Two of his favourite things. The Ostron had seen the cataclysmic beam of light that wiped the Forward Transaction from existence. Had witnessed the Severance's fitful landing, and tracked the Tenno as they were marched into the belly of the Orokin vessel. They had two options, as he saw it. They could sit here and wait for the Corpus Navy to find them, eventually. Or they could do what they did best. Stir up some real trouble. He settled into the driver's seat. Settled a pair of dust goggles over his eyes. He keyed the ignition sequence. The Ostron grinned tightly as the engine growled to life. Decision made. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The silence on the bridge was deafening. Moans of pain filled the air. The crew tended to each other as best they could, but supplies were exhausted. Telin and Kelpo stood by the observation window. A great crack was riven through it. The ship was held together by rigging tape at this point. "So what's the plan?" Kelpo asked. "You're asking me? Still?" "Well you've gotten us this far." Telin studied the Orokin ship through his binoculars. "That wasn't planning. That was more…" Telin hunted for the word, "…improvisation." "Well then let's improvise some more." Telin sighed, lowering the binoculars. His morose eyes never left the Orokin ship. "We can't take that monster in the air. Not a hope." "Then we take it on the ground." That was Stren. His head was bandaged, his face a swollen cross-hatch of indented skin where he had lain face down on the checker plate of the deck. "You're awake." Kelpo observed. "Also crazy." Telin added. "No Captain, I'm upset. Far more dangerous." The stocky weapons engineer scratched at his jowls as he peered through his eye-scope. "There's only six guards outside." The older man mused. "Six monsters." Kelpo countered. "Look at them. Their thighs are as wide as my torso." "They don't look armed." "Those giant spear things aren't weapons?" "Guns lad. I mean guns." "You saw what their ship did to the Forward. No way in hell they don't have guns. We'll be cut to pieces before we cross the gap." Telin tutted in mock-surprise. "Kelpo Marr, afraid of a fight?" "Never. I'm just saying we're scavengers, not career soldiers." "No, you're right. We're not soldiers. Not scavengers, either. Not anymore." Telin's smile spread to a wolfish grin. "Pirates." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sohren held up a hand, calming his honour guard. "Stay your hands." He ordered sternly, "The Tenno are not to be harmed." The Dax lowered their blades, hesitantly. Sohren looked at Kael, intently. "What did I say to you, when we last met?" Kael didn't reply. The nikana never wavered. Sohren answered for him, as he stepped up toward the blade, never once breaking eye contact. "You have command of the Cell." Sohren said, "Until I return." Sohren smiled slightly. His nose was mere inches from the nikana. Still he did not blink as he spoke. "I said those words then. I meant them. Yet I would ask you to hold onto that sword just a little longer." Kael blinked. Finally he lowered the sword, entirely uncertain. "Why?" "Because I need you at my side, Kael. My most loyal friend, my most trusted lieutenant. There is much work to be done. My place is here, at the head of The House Eternal. I need you in the field. Will you help me, one last time?" "More Orokin tricks, Kael." Doric warned. "This man is Septimus! Don't listen to his lies!" "Are they lies when I say that the system lies in ruin? That the people cry out for something more than abject squalor? The Rail is broken, the Grineer maraud freely, setting upon the scattered colonies like wild dogs. You've seen the privations inflicted by the Corpus and their pitiless rule. Is that acceptable to you?" "How is it any different to the Orokin?" Sara asked. She stepped around the Dax that surrounded Kael, padding softly to the base of the steps, looking up at the throne. "We fought and killed, again and again. So they could rule in their golden houses on their golden thrones. Choosing who lived, and who died, and when." Sara's eyes could melt armour plating as she fixed Sohren with a glare. "A tyrant is a tyrant, I don't care how shiny they are." Sara looked at Kael, surrounded on all sides by Sohren's bodyguards. She smiled at him, despite the tension. "You've only been awake a short time. You haven't seen all that's out there. The good that's been done. It's not all squalor. The other Tenno, they're out there, making a difference. It's slow. It's painful, but we're building something, together. Something better." "The Relays. The Solaris. Those scavengers who found you. We can help them." Doric added, "But on our terms. Not his." Sohren scowled. "You forget yourselves, Tenno." The frustration in his voice was clear. "We have a sworn duty; an oath to The House Eternal. Our place is here!" "Yours, perhaps." Isolde took a step back toward her Warframe. "Me? Frankly I'm long past fighting for anyone but myself. I only know that nothing good comes from this House, its symbols and its pomp. So the Orokin are no more. Good. The galaxy is better for it." Isolde glanced at Doric, Kael and Sara. "I don't know about you, but I've a job to finish. A promise to keep." "And what promise is that, exactly?" Sohren asked. "The simple kind." Isolde spared a glare at Eythan Dax, a slow smile spreading on her face. "A bit of old fashioned vengeance." "I've seen your handiwork." Sohren scoffed. "Revenge? You've already had it." Isolde scowled. "Not even close." She vanished in a burst of light. Mesa sprang to life. The Regulators whipped into her hands. Clicked as they locked squarely onto Eythan Dax's head. Sohren sighed and waved a hand. Mesa locked in place, frozen in place by a beam of light. Quivering with impotent fury. The Cell looked up. The vaulted ceiling contained all manner of hidden projectors. Similar beams of light encased the other Frames. They shuddered in place, becoming twisted statues locked in rictus poses like some twisted museum. The Cell came to the same realisation at once. Here, in the heart of the Orokin ship, their Warframes were useless. Sohren chuckled in pity. "Warframe Technology. Orokin Technology. There is no difference." Sohren tutted, as he ascended the steps, turning to address them all. "Make no mistake, Tenno: this is The House Eternal." Sohren squeezed his fist. Mesa fell to her knees shuddering in silent agony. Sohren's expression was stone, his voice matter-of-fact. "You will honour your vows, or die as oathbreakers." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted August 25, 2018 Author Share Posted August 25, 2018 (edited) "The Board's position remains clear. Pending instructions, the Dominant Position is to hold an observation pattern and standby for further instructions. No further action is required at this time." - instructions relayed to Captain Theo Plun, after his thirteenth request for new orders -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kef Mehrino sweated as he bundled himself down yet another smelly pipe. He had no idea where he was, where he was going. He had scurried in the dark for what felt like hours, scrambling from one access hatch to the next. His hands shivered through his velvet gloves, swollen from the effort. His fine clothes were soaked with sweat, flecked with rust and oil and sewage; filthy from the arduous ascent. Up, all he knew was that he had to keep going up. The higher he went, the sooner he could regain contact with the Board. Maybe even salvage his position. A victim of the rebellion, who made a daring escape. Some kind of survivor narrative. They might even reward him. The thought spurred him ever onward. He rounded the next corner. A Watch-Control fire team filled the corridor. They were a Low Tier unit: seasoned, isolated; fighting a determined guerrilla war against the uprising ever since the Data Stacks came down. Their drone support was gone. They were bloodied and hardened, their armour visibly dented. But the iconography on their suits was clear. They were Corpus soldiers, and true. "Oh, thank the Void you're here." Kef Mehrino sighed in relief, lowering his hands. A rifle butt slammed him into darkness. "What do we do with him?" One crewman asked, his speech rendered a warble through his helmet filter. "Sell him?" The crewman shrugged. "Maybe they'll give us a reward." "Fine. But I get his boots." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Neera splashed heavily as she dropped into the coolant. The environment suit the Solaris had rigged her with was a poor fit. She was swimming in its rubbery folds. Still, it kept the searing kiss of the coolant from her skin. Sparks and the other rebels waded ahead of her, small pilot drones lighting the way. Ahead, the transports awaited them. There were more transports than survivors. Solaris United agents stood by: some mechanised, others almost more alien behind their rebreathers. One of them pulled her aboard. "Is this it?" the Solaris Agent asked as he settled her down in a restraint chair, pressing a warm drink into her hands. Neera nodded, exhausted. "The Data Mass?" "It's here." Neera's head hit the back of the chair, as exhaustion took hold. "We got it." Her breath shuddered as the hatch sealed, bathing them in comforting darkness. "We got it." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was difficult, devising a plan under threat of Orokin death ray, but Telin was used to certain mitigating factors by this point. Necessity, being the most pressing. At the very least, it gave the crew something to focus on. They divided their efforts. The Severance needed to be airworthy. Engineer Lorna and her crew had survived the blast, but needed every spare hand available to fast-track repairs. Their supplies were all but expended, with non-essential systems being cannibalised to accommodate the myriad patchwork, jury-rigged solutions she was devising, seemingly on the fly. Which was good, because flying was generally the end-goal here. Teico would nominally command the ship, with Pohld at the helm. That left twelve of them for the raid team. Telin and Kelpo, because it was "their idea" (and a "terrible one" by Pohld's ever-encouraging estimation). Stren volunteered, primarily because Stren was Stren, and wanted to stove in the skull of an Orokin, just to say he had. That, and there were precious few weapon systems left for him to manage. Any remaining power cells had long since been repurposed for more essential systems. The rest of his men were the survivors of the earlier boarding actions. Some wanted revenge for their fallen shipmates, others were driven by curiosity; enticed by the prospect of seeing an Orokin vessel first hand. Being a product of Corpus society, all were seduced by promises of treasure. Weaponry was left to each team member's discretion. This was ultimately a boarding action. Audacious? Yes. Suicidal? Very probably. But short range killing power was the order of the day. Kelpo favoured a flak cannon and some kind of snub-nosed pistol of indeterminate origin. Stren opted for a combi-weapon, a chemical thrower welded to a plasma-powered rivet cannon. Telin kept it simple. He favoured the Detron, together with a wicked looking hand-axe that had been cobbled together by one of the more morbid members of the crew. HWK-44 had fully repaired itself, and he spent the little preparation time they had upgrading its offensive armament. He hummed as he worked the plasma torch, making final adjustments. The routine was familiar to him. It calmed his frazzled nerves. The fear that turned his belly to stone, and kept his heart racing. One by one they made ready, bracing themselves for one final effort. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doric and Sara held their breath, as they watched Mesa writhe in silent agony at the foot of the steps. "Did you honestly think I would let you walk in here with your Warframes without any discernible means to counter them?" Sohren shook his head, incredulous as he circled Isolde. "Have you forgotten everything you were taught?" Isolde said nothing. She was fully immobilised. Sohren continued to lecture them, one finger raised in the air. "Of all the Orokin's weapons, we Tenno were the most dangerous. If there was one single lesson to be learned from The Collapse, it is that none of us are invincible." Sohren stopped speaking abruptly. A blade had appeared at his throat. The Dax flinched in response, all too late. Even without his Frame, Kael was lightning quick. "Truer words were never spoken." Kael warned Sohren. "Release her." "Careful, old friend." Sohren smiled as the blade tickled his throat. "That edge is sharp." "And fast too. Release her, or more than words will spill from you." "Not unless I have assurances that she restrains herself." Sohren countered, icily calm, "And not while you have a blade at my throat, old friend." Kael could feel the pain radiating from her Transference Link. He hissed. The blade eased. Sohren took a step back, massaging his throat, that magnanimous smile still fixed on his face. He snapped his fingers. Mesa came back to life, toppling to her knees. She looked at Kael. The Regulators remained sheathed. There was a shimmer as Isolde reappeared at Mesa's feet, clinging to her Frame for support, shivering from the invasive pain of the Transference surge. Sohren paced back up the stairs. He sat back in the throne a healthy distance from Kael, sighing as he settled himself. "Would it surprise you, to learn that when the time came, I gave myself gladly? I believe in the Empire. In the good that it served. Not all were equal, but there was order. Discipline. A certain code, for warriors like you and I." Sohren shook his head. "There is no code anymore. No order, or structure. Only chaos." "More lies." Doric looked at Kael. "Sohren never talked this much." Sara agreed. Sohren scoffed. He didn't seem to be listening. There was something definitely off about him. Kael watched him, not saying a word. His face a blank mask. "I knew Lord Septimus' designs long before I was chosen. The Orokin's longevity could only come through some form of sacrifice. You think I went in blind? Again, you think so little of me." Sohren was lost within himself as he continued: "But Transference is not a two process. And while Septimus was Orokin, and of a formidable mind, the Void was not with him." Sohren's expression darkened with fury, yet his voice remained eerily serene. "I crushed his mind like an insect." Sohren mused. "Snapped his will like some brittle twig." Sohren looked up, snapping back to reality. "Afterwards I banished my guards back to the ship. Toured the depths of that forbidden place, alone. Saw the mounds of bones of the dead. What became of the Orokin when their mortal vessels reached their natural end. Cast into a pit. Discarded." Sohren stroked his chin, shaking his head slowly. "Septimus was not worthy of our service, but his frail husk was not without its uses. I left him for Isolde to find and exact her terrible vengeance. By then the Collapse was fully underway. The Seven were gone, slaughtered at what was to be their finest hour. The Grineer Uprising was in full flame, and what little remained was scattered, indolent; undeserving of redemption or salvation." "So you hid." Sara shook her head. "I waited, Sara. For the slate to be wiped clean. For the opportune moment." Doric let him speak. Tactically he was assessing the number of Dax surrounding them. Still, Kael betrayed no emotion. "The Corpus provided that very moment. Fleeing traders and scattered refugees at first, bartering simply to survive. They gravitated to the portions of our Empire that best resisted the ravages of the Technocyte Plague and the Grineer warbands that scoured the Rail. Clustering in hubs. Organising." Sixteen warriors, including Eythan Dax but excluding Sohren. Scenarios played through Doric's mind. Without access to their Warframes, few ended well. Sohren's voice continued: "The trading companies natural became intertwined, flourishing into the Guilds we know today. Organising along strict tenets of code and rigid hierarchy. Solidifying their influence through automated proxies and jealously hoarding essential resources so many of the other Scattered Colonies required. Becoming a power in their own right." It would not be an even split. Doric knew Eythan Dax well. Of all of Trainer's warriors, he was the most gifted. Sohren alone would demand their full attention. Doric's eye twitched. Kael alone was armed. "It was easy to win their trust. We had access to all manner of Orokin relics, the very thing they prized the most. From there it was simply a matter of cultivating an avatar to allow us unfettered access to the Board's inner workings. A suggested dig site here, a knowing expedition there. Knowledge is power, and we had more knowledge than any three Board members combined. I mined the House's ancient resources, brokering relics for power." "And they never suspected you?" Doric asked, his own fascination getting the better of him. "There were those who came close, certainly. But I am a Tenno, versed in strategy, and my warriors trained Dax; gifted soldiers, spies, assassins; when need be. I had informants everywhere. Infiltrating our opponents, planting discrediting information. We even founded The Exchange: profiting from removing those we ourselves had selected for strategic elimination." Sohren saw the stricken look on Isolde's face, and smiled. "Yes, Isolde, you have been working for me for some time. I have followed your newfound career with great interest. That job on Ceres? Marvelous. Truly marvelous." "All this planning. To what end, truly?" Doric folded his arms. "You can't expect to reveal yourself, and have the Board simply roll over." "No, The Board members are willful, dangerously self-interested. I decided long ago that we must remain in the dark, unseen. Guiding, cajoling, suggesting. When the time comes, we will leverage the necessary assets. They too will be dealt with." "You even speak like them." Isolde sounded unwell as she clambered to her feet. "What can I say? I've had a long time to learn their ways." Sohren sat forward in his throne, his gauntleted hands open, inviting. "But enough talk. The Empire can be restored anew. Better than before, I promise you." Sohren smiled, beatifically. "I ask one final time: will you help me?" "What happens if we refuse?" Kael asked. The smile faded. Sohren's face was stone, his voice grave. "Then you are my enemy, and I know that our friendship is dead." Kael smiled faintly at that. The he burst out laughing: a sharp high laugh, almost piercing. The others looked at him sharply. He was the dutiful lieutenant, ever the stoic soldier; seldom prone to any great emotion. It was not a happy sound. "It's a convincing act, I'll give you that, Septimus." Kael shook his head ruefully, "For a moment there I was convinced. Truly, I thought you were Sohren." "What are you talking about?" Sohren blinked. Kael's eyes were bright and clear, almost relieved. "Doubtless much of said is true. But actions speak so much louder than words." The laughter was gone now. "A friend would never hold us hostage. Or wipe out a ship of innocents without a second thought. Torture Isolde and her Frame, simply to prove a point." The Dax tensed as Kael approached the throne. "Sohren would never harbour such imperial designs, or any grand desire to rule. He was a soldier. Lived as one. Died as one." Kael flashed the sword in his hands; rolling it about. As he would in the practice yard with Sohren so many centuries before. Sohren stiffened, his fists tightening on the edges of his throne. "You're delusion Kael. Your long sleep has addled your mind. I am your friend, your Brother!" Kael shook his head slowly, ever closing the distance. Serenely he spoke: "These words are Orokin words. Which them make Orokin lies. Yet they speak a certain truth. They tell me I failed, long ago. That my friend is gone." That killing stare was in Kael's eyes now. He spoke softly, yet the words carried in the hushed stillness of the chamber. The Dax fanned out, moving to encircle him, halberds and swords raised. Sohren kept them back, his hand raised. His face a granite mask as he let Kael ascend the steps, one deliberate footfall at a time. "But you're here, Septimus. That'll do." Sohren's ancient blade whipped in that slow, hypnotic warm-up loop. Kael's eyes never blinked, never wavered. All emotion buried but for the coldest rage. "I'll bury his sword in your chest, and in his name, end you. In his name, we will bring ruin to The House Eternal and dismantle its proxies, brick by treacherous brick." Septimus-as-Sohren rose to his feet. He stood head and shoulders taller than Kael. A golden warrior ripped from the canvas of the most heroic tapestry. Imperious. Invincible. He spat, glowering, as he drew the twin nikana. They whirled and twisted in his hands expertly. The stance was entirely alien to anything Sohren would have favoured. It only incensed Kael further. "You're outnumbered." Septimus sneered. "Surrounded in a battle you cannot possibly win. Your Warframes are useless here." "You forget yourself, Lord Septimus. We are Tenno of the House Eternal, trained by your very best." Kael settled into a forward guard, settling his feet. "We don't need Warframes to kill you." Edited August 26, 2018 by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Loza03 Posted September 13, 2018 Share Posted September 13, 2018 Um... I don't want to rush you, but is this story going to be finished? I'm really enjoying it, and I'd hate to see it peter out at the last. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted September 13, 2018 Author Share Posted September 13, 2018 [It's coming - I've 10,000 words written, but whether they're the right 10,000 words is quite another thing entirely- I also run my own business and it's very much the post summer market rush, so I'm currently tied up assembling Grofit. Why Natah? Why is the sequence not complete?] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Loza03 Posted September 14, 2018 Share Posted September 14, 2018 38 minutes ago, (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 said: [It's coming - I've 10,000 words written, but whether they're the right 10,000 words is quite another thing entirely- I also run my own business and it's very much the post summer market rush, so I'm currently tied up assembling Grofit. Why Natah? Why is the sequence not complete?] Good to know! May the void bless your Grofit! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Blakrana Posted September 14, 2018 Share Posted September 14, 2018 9 hours ago, (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 said: [It's coming - I've 10,000 words written, but whether they're the right 10,000 words is quite another thing entirely- I also run my own business and it's very much the post summer market rush, so I'm currently tied up assembling Grofit. Why Natah? Why is the sequence not complete?] Entirely understandable on the need for editing and such. Best of luck with that and keeping things in order IRL. A good story is always worth waiting for how it continues. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aldrr Posted September 14, 2018 Share Posted September 14, 2018 (edited) As much as I'd like to see where this story goes next, no need to rush. If IRL business needs to get sorted first, totally fine. Just "steady as she goes." 😉 Edited September 14, 2018 by Aldrr Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted September 17, 2018 Author Share Posted September 17, 2018 (edited) "Beware the House Eternal." - Trainer Dax -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The hatch yawned on its hinges as Stren yanked the release lever. Kelpo looked down and swallowed. It was a thirty foot drop to the ground. Stren went first, huffing as he squeezed his bulk down onto the rear landing skid. The raid team filed down behind him, the zip line twisting as they slid down, gloved hands buzzing. Such was the length of the Severance that they were able to keep the front landing gear between them and the Dax sentries. They helped each other down, one by one; heavy boots kissing down against cold asphalt. Telin's gloves burned as his feet thumped the deck. He stumbled as he landed. By the time he looked up, properly saw the city at ground level, his jaw fell open. The colony was in ruins. In the distance, Watch Control slumped, a heap of slag and spilled debris, alight in several places. The Data Stacks, once proud and cold and imperial and majestic were simply gone: their absence from the skyline marked only by a haze of ever-sifting dust. Telin Voss had never seen the Upper Tier in its full glory. He was a humble scavver: a roughshod, lowly rung on a long and pitiless ladder. Even so, he knew this place may never again recover, such was the extent of the devastation. Once a pristine pillar of commerce and cold, calculated luxury, the Upper Tier was now little more than a charred hellscape. All this from one damned salvage claim. "Stay focused Cap." Stren whispered as he thumped him on the back. The veteran scavver was all business now. The men and women around them were seasoned frontiersmen, practiced fighters. They moved with a tense urgency, low to the ground as they scurried for the front landing gear. They stacked before the front landing skid, bundling together in the shadows. Kelpo swore under his breath. This low on the ground, the Orokin ship was truly massive. Expansive and majestic. The belly hatch yawned open like some ancient maw, inviting them aboard with an ominous hunger. Waiting to swallow them whole. Which wouldn't be a bad thing, all things considered. That was sort of the plan. The only problem were the golden giants guarding it. There was no dusk on Venus, not in the same way there was on Earth. But smoke wreathed everything. Even in the murk, the Dax sentries made for impressive statutes: bulls necks and lean corded muscle; accentuated by ancient gilded armour that burned a ruby amber-gold in the smoky half-light. They stood stock-still and silent, as if carved from ancient stone. Telin lowered his scope, turning to the others. "Okay, here's the plan…" Telin began to whisper. He stopped. They were all listening to something fast approaching. A fierce revving roar. An alarm system, whooping. Absolute chaos, moving at speed. The Dax broke ranks, heads cocked in confusion. Kelpo frowned, asking aloud. "Is that an engine?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Parson-Luk snarled in frustration, stabbing at the kaleidoscope of light emanating from the control console. He understood none of the Corpus script. Every conceivable alarm blared and shrilled at him. Intruder alarms, unpaid parking fines, outstanding motor tax and insufficient windscreen fluid: they all bleated separately. The sound was a deafening cacophony of hoots and shrills. Eventually Brakarr leaned forward from the back seat and drove his fist through it. The Dax shone bright in the headlights ahead. Plasma bolts spanked off the hood of the limousine, stitching what little was left of the windshield. Biting shards of glass sprayed across the front seat, nicking them both. "So much for surprise!" Parson-Luk hissed. He floored it. The Dax were much too quick to ram. For all their size they dove left and right, extraordinarily nimble. He threw the hovercar into a slewing skid, throwing up a cloud of churning smoke and flakes of ash. Presenting Brakarr and his propped rotary cannon with an angle. It thundered to life, tracer fire searing out and splitting the dark. The Dax were quick, but not faster than a Grineer cannon at full cycle. Bodies jinked and danced as their armour was shredded, all but sawn in half. Something heavy landed on the bonnet. A Dax, meticulously balanced on the front; halberd in one hand. Poised, ready to strike. Parson-Luk flared the limo's drives, trying to shake him off. Still the golden warrior clung on, teeth gritted; stubbornly determined. The Ostron hit the brake. Hard. That proved more than the Dax could manage. He was thrown bodily onto the scorched ground. The Ostron smiled cruelly and, with the utmost calm, pressed his foot back on the accelerator. There was a jolting hollow thump as chrome limousine met golden armour. An energy blast caught them in the rear nacelle. It simply atomised, throwing the limousine wildly off course. They hit the upturned edge of an old plinth. Metal bit stone, folded. Emergency impact foam blasted from the control console, catching the Ostron's face with an almighty slap. Not for the first time today, Parson-Luk's nose broke. The car wrapped itself around the plinth. It was a miracle the entire fusion core had not gone up. The Ostron tried prying himself free, blood streaming down his face. Brakarr was nowhere to be seen, had seemingly been thrown from the vehicle entirely. The steaming foam held him in place, half solidifying; clinging to him in great ropey chunks. The trapper tore them free messily, bristling at being ensnared. He was still struggling when he caught something emerging from the gloom in the corner of his eye. The Dax descended upon him. The energy projector that encircled his wrist was silent, but the halberd in his hands was at the ready, blade glinting. Parson-Luk ripped the last tendril of safety foam free of his hands. His hands were a blur, drawing a wicked recurve zaw and hurling it with lethal precision. The halberd flashed, once. The dagger sparked and flew away into the gloom. Still the Dax marched on, ever closer. The Ostron's blowgun was at his lips seconds later. His most lethal dart spat forth. There was a whistle as the dart flitted toward the Dax. The Dax's gauntlet snatched up in an instant, smiling. He tossed the dart aside, his stride never faltering. Parson-Luk blinked, amazed. There was an industrial thump; a piston sound that split the air. The Dax grunted, almost losing his balance as he staggered. He twisted about, surprised. Jutting from his lower back was a massive rivet. It was crude, inelegant; wholly unexpected. Blood streamed down the Dax's armour. He gripped at the steel bolt, trying to tug it free with a hiss. Figures emerged from the gloom. Twelve of them. They were a bedraggled lot; hardened men and women dressed in long dusters and ramshackle environment suits. Parson-Luk recognised some of them, from his time aboard the Severance. They surrounded the Dax, closing from all angles. "Liars and thieves, beggars and cut-throats!" The Dax spat, as he finally wrenched the bolt free and cast it aside, taking up his halberd in his hands. "Honourless dogs!" "Us?" Telin frowned. "We're just playing the odds." "Twelve to one." Kelpo agreed. There was a wild chatter as bolts, bullets and blasters sounded from multiple directions. The Dax spun to the ground, holed in several places. Telin Voss stood over him, lowering his smoking pistol. Incredibly, the golden warrior still lived. He gurgled and hissed through bloodied teeth: "Insolent peasants! You're nothing more than scavengers!" "That we are." Telin agreed. "And you're so very shiny." The Detron sounded twice. Telin holstered the pistol and looked up at Parson-Luk. "Evenin'." "Thanks for the assist, Surah." The Ostron winced as he eased himself down from ticking ruin of the limousine. He was a bedraggled mess, covered in streaming foam and a leaking nose. "Thanks for the distraction. Heading our way?" Ostron nodded. A crunch behind them made them all twist about. Brakarr emerged from the fog, covered in grime; battered but moving albeit with a pronounced limp. He used his broken rotary cannon as a makeshift walking stick. "Stupid Ostron!" Brakarr fumed. "Next time, Grineer drive!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the throne room of The House Eternal, Septimus held up a forestalling gauntlet. "Bold words, Tenno Kael; but perhaps ill-advised." Septimus' hand squeezed into a fist. "Your situation is more precarious than you think." A permeating wave of power swept through the room., radiating from the Orokin warrior. A Nullification Field, designed to rob the Tenno of the Void's arcane power. To Kael, it was as though his sense of smell or sight had been abruptly stolen. He froze, unsure of himself. Sara and the others were surrounded by the Dax, who encircled them in perfect synchronisation. The Tenno had no weapons. Their Warframes were a dead end. Now the Void too was gone. The circle of blades tightened with each prowling step. Septimus studied Kael, never blinking. "The choice before you is binary. Join us now, or die a traitor's death." Kael swallowed, visibly sweating. The other Tenno were steadily driven back to back as the Dax honour guard closed the gap, step by measured step. "Any ideas?" Sara asked, her eyes darting from one spear tip to the next. "Ars Bellica." Doric hissed urgently. "Counter-containment strategy Four Fifteen." "What are you talking about?" Sara started. "I said ideas – not wittering code!" Isolde nodded in understanding. "Break the deadlock." She abruptly turned and knitted her fingers together. Held them out towards Doric, palms upturned. Doric did the same, bracing his hands beneath hers. Forming a platform, a springboard. The Dax blades were almost close enough to touch. Sara looked at them as though they had sprouted four heads. Then she realised their intent. She shrugged. "Works for me!" They launched her high into the air. She twisted as she fell, landing with both legs wrapped around the neck of one of the Dax. He stumbled and fell, neck twisting as they went over as one. Sara used her opponent's superior weight to her advantage. With a savage, brittle crack he was done. Sara's hand was at the fallen warrior's belt. A knife flashed through the air, embedding itself in the eye socket of another Dax. The formation came apart, as the Dax instinctively spun to face the new threat. Isolde and Doric were not idle. They hurled themselves upon the Dax closest to Sara, pouncing at the momentary distraction. Doric's beaked fist caught one Dax in the throat, sending the man gasping to his knees. He grabbed the man's helmet and shattered his nose with a striking knee. Then the halberd was in Doric's hands, whooping as he spun it through the air, driving the rest of them back, buying much needed space. Isolde had a dagger in her hands, stolen from Sara's kill. They stood as one, facing a wall of golden armour and glinting spears. Even then, the odds were hopelessly one-sided. Septimus laughed, clapping his gauntleted hands. "Bravo. Tenno. Truly, we trained you too well." With a scrape he drew his twinned swords. Master crafted nikana; priceless relics both. "But without loyalty you are useless to The House Eternal." Septimus shrugged, "Kill them." Kael rushed Septimus with a shout. A high strike, whisper quick. The twinned-swords criss-crossed, neatly intercepting Kael's. Septimus chuckled, bemused. He swept both swords upward with a shriek of metal, throwing Kael off-balance. Then the assault began. Septimus-as-Sohren unleashed a whirlwind of strikes that took every shred of Kael's skill to deflect. He back-pedaled, arms all but wrenched from their sockets, such was the force of each blow. Septimus barely broke a sweat. Nikana were not traditionally employed in a dual capacity. It was unorthodox, unwieldy. Only a swordsman of particular skill could employ such a stance effectively, and hope to win. Septimus wore Sohren well, marshaling finely honed muscle memory perfected from decades of relentless training. The blades danced a lethal dance; hissing, shrieking. Kael rolling and flipped to evade the wilder strikes that simply would have simply demolished his guard with brute force, such was the size different between them. The dual blades in particular were a deciding factor. Kael could devote his attention to one, only for the second to sweep in an unexpected angle. More than one a hand-spring or hasty tumble saved him, as he kicked free of the repeated arcs of steel that scythed through the air, describing a mesmerising blur. Septimus advanced, relentless. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Eythan Dax stepped forth from the Dax rank and file, one hand on his nikana. "No more Void tricks, no proxy Frames. Just you and us, Tenno, here and now. Alone, and in the flesh. Frail and brittle." Something hit the Dax formation from behind, at speed. A broken rotary cannon, hurled with considerable strength. It bowled many of the Dax off their feet. The chamber filled with the clattering of armour. Those still on their feet spun around, reeling in surprise, shouting challenges. A single gunshot split the air, silencing them. Even Septimus and Kael's furious duel at the end of the chamber came to a screeching halt. Telin Voss lowered the steaming Detron. He smiled theatrically, enjoying the audience. "I have your attention. Good." Telin nodded to himself, the silence lingering in the air. His boots scraped noisily against the stone floor as he stepped deeper into the chamber. Every pair of eyes watched him. The Dax, wary yet sceptical. The Tenno, incredulous at the scavenger's audacity. His own crew, slightly confused at what exactly their new leader was playing at. Telin's voice was calm, authoritative. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to put the swords down, and step away from the Tenno. We're going to be civilized. Everybody's going to stay calm and –" Septimus sighed wearily, already bored. "Kill them." The Dax dropped to their knees in unison and raised their wrists mounted weapons; drawing cutting discs and elongated pistols of fluted gold. The Scavengers retaliated in kind; bringing to bear all manner of shotguns, focus beams and brutish scrap-ware. There was a bristling of weaponry from both sides. Caught in the middle, Telin Voss swallowed. "Balls." Telin threw himself flat. Beams and blades and bolts exchanged in a flurry. Weapons discharged at point blank range. Bodies toppled. Golden armour spalled and split apart. Blades sang as warriors charged and Scavengers roared; cutting-axes raised. Both sides charged. There was the sinking thump of bodies impacting bodies. Metal biting flesh. Screams. In any other situation, it would have proven a one sided slaughter. The Scavengers, for all their hardened grit, were not trained soldiers. They lacked the discipline of the Dax Cadre, the ab-human reflexes and lifetime of relentless physical training and mental conditioning. These were the warriors of old, whose ability had ensured Orokin dominance for centuries. Defeat simply did not form part of their DNA. But the Scavengers were not alone. Brakarr waded through the melee, smashing golden warriors aside and snarling even as Orokin halberds speared his flanks. Parson-Luk unleashed bolas that tripped ankles and launched fizzling net launchers that tangled about the Dax's faces, the Grinlok rifle thumping out hasty shots whenever a chance arose. Telin's drone flitted above the melee, spitting bolts until a throwing dagger speared it squarely in the eye, pinning it to the far wall. Telin's Detron kicked three times in quick succession. The Dax bearing down on him didn't even slow. Kelpo tackled the Dax from the side, and yelped as he was flung one-handed over the man's shoulder. Other scavengers charged in turn. The Dax made short work of them; quick brutal cuts that chopped his crew down like timber. A flying stump of an arm caught Telin in the side of the head, knocking him off his feet. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The other Tenno rushed the Dax from behind, sliding low or leaping high. They lacked the physicality of the mighty Dax, but they had a nimble speed and peerless training. Doric and Sara rolled and tumbled between arcing blades, trading strikes and parries with blinding speed. Isolde's focus was singular. With the dagger in her hand she lunged straight for Eythan Dax. Brakarr beat her to the punch. The Grineer was lost in a battle rage, bellowing incoherently; blinded with pain. The Dax flowed as water, sword blurring and the Grineer's legs gave way, flitting sparks and spraying oil and steam. The Dax rose his sword to finish the job, when a bola snapped around his wrist, knocking the descending strike off-target. Still the blade descended, lancing into the war rig at an angle; biting deep. Brakarr howled. Something tried to tackle Eythan Dax. A wiry, sinewy old man; stinking of incense and old leathery oils. Eythan Dax looked down, entirely unmoved. He barked a laugh. The skinny wretch was better served trying to tackle an oak tree. The Dax lifted the Ostron hunter by the throat, steadily clenching his hand around the man's windpipe. "An Ostron, giving his life for a Grineer?" Eythan Dax chuckled as he tightened his grip. "The first surprise I've had in centuries." The Ostron's eyes bulged. Only they weren't looking at him. Eythan Dax saw the reflection in the man's bulging eyes. Something behind them. Moving at speed. Eythan Dax cast the Ostron aside and spun; flashing his blade to intercept at the last second. The dagger met the nikana with a shriek, locking in place. Isolde's face was a mask of controlled fury. "No running this time, Tenno." Eythan Dax leered. "I've no intention of running." Isolde hissed. "Not when there's a job to finish!" Actions matched words. The golden dagger in Isolde's hands was more blade than any single kunai. It weathered the nikana's savagery with a determination matched only by the cold, pitiless glare in the Tenno's eyes. Soon it was notched, chipped beyond any recognition. Relentless, Isolde pressed her attack: rolling and hurling herself at him, again and again. Leaps and tumbles into lashing kicks and descending swipes. A peerless fighter, Eythan Dax met each of them, and yet the wave only continued to build, becoming a tsunami. Eythan Dax knew the look of a berserker. Had seen it countless times during the horror of The Old War. This was not that. This was something else: a controlled fury, a commitment to the fight that was singular, absolute. Nothing held in reserve, yet deliberate in its approach, methodical. His sword was a blur, but still she was quicker. A strike breached his guard, chipping at his vambrace. Eythan Dax blinked. Another strike, this one at a knee guard. Again the armour caught it. Her fighting style blended more than the Thousand Feats. It was feral, improvised. Born of brawling in low tier colonies and backwater settlements all across the Origin System. Pugilistic strikes, sweeping feet; all infused with a merciless, cold anger. Blended with the training provided by The House Eternal, it lunged and nipped at him, striking from unexpected angles, relentless. A hand clamped onto his ankle. The Grineer, mutilated on the ground, leaking oil and blood and coolant in equal measure. There was no strength left in the brute's grip, and a single twist of the Dax's foot freed him easily. But as a momentary distraction, it was enough. Isolde's blade nicked Dax flesh, and Eythan hissed in pain, blood streaming from his elbow, where the notched dagger had slashed the narrow section where his armour joints parted. For the first time ever, Eythan Dax felt true pain. And with that, something else. Fear. He narrowed his eyes, steeling his resolve. He brought the sword back three times, catching the dagger thrice in quick succession. A fourth strike sparked off his belly armour, once. And though her brow was sheened with sweat, and she pushed her mortal frame to its very limits, Isolde was speaking. Quoting him. "No Void tricks." Isolde swooped beneath the next sword strike, lashing out and puncturing the armpit of his armour. Blood drippled freely down his flank now. The Dax's arm went abruptly numb. Still he parried the next blow, stumbling backward. "No proxy Frames." He swung, drunkenly; cleaving only air. Isolde circled him, pacing like a hungry cat. "Just you and me. Alone…. An overhand swing, trying to bisect her. The sword met the stone floor with a clang. Isolde was beneath his guard. She all but embraced him, whispered in his ear. "…and in the flesh." She drove the dagger into Eythan Dax's chest, in the narrow gap between the breastplate and the belly. "Frail," Isolde twisted the dagger, pushing it downward. "… and brittle." Isolde released the dagger, stepping back. Eythan Dax gasped, felt his lifeblood spilling onto the floor. He blinked, tottering backward. The melee around him slowed to a crawl. The golden nikana clattered to the floor. His knees followed suit. Isolde scooped the golden nikana up as she watched Eythan Dax dribbled blood listlessly. Blood coated her hands. "I would make this slower. Really, I would. But he always emphasised efficiency. And I keep my promises." Eythan Dax's hands quivered as he pulled out the dagger that had riven his stomach asunder. His insides spilled out in ropey lengths. More than horror, Eythan Dax felt the burning shame of absolute defeat. Isolde tightened her grip upon the golden hilt. "For Terrenus." Eythan Dax managed a strangled croak, then Isolde brought the sword down. A clean strike. His head flopped across the floor, bouncing twice. There was no relief, no cathartic satisfaction. Only a cold emptiness. Isolde's eyes were dull as she stood there, surrounded on all sides by similar acts of carnage. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Across the chamber, Kael hit the floor, rolling twice. Septimus had caught him with the heel of his golden boot, square in the chest. Winded, the Tenno rolled onto his back, lungs sucking for air that would not come. Sohren's sword had been knocked from Kael's hands, skittering across the far end of the chamber. "Look around you." Septimus spat as he approached, pointing one sword at the brawl engulfing the throne room. "Is this what you want? Is this the legacy you choose?" Kael said nothing. Couldn't speak even if he wanted to. He clawed his way backward, scrambling for Sohren's blade. "We are Orokin." Septimus spat, the veins in his neck bulging. "We are the one true order that can save this system from itself. Peerless, without equal!" Kael would never reach the sword in time. Telin Voss was many things. A mischief, a scavver, a self-interested gambler with few friends and fewer prospects. Most of all, he was a gambler. Of all these varied things, Telin was no warrior. It was perhaps because of this that the Dax paid him no heed as he scrambled through the melee on his belly, surrounded on all sides by clashing warriors who bled and died in a churning frenzy. He was coated in blood, grime and sweat; a hundred different stains from a thousand different indignities visited on him over the preceding day. Fortune smiled on him twice, at that moment. That he made it as far as the base of the dais was one thing. That he managed to finally land a shot with his Detron and was quite another entirely. Even then it was a horrible shot. The not entirely trusty Detron only clipped Septimus' gauntlet. This was less than optimal. Telin had been aiming for the warrior's exposed head. Fortune smiled a third time. The bolt deflected, catching Septimus' cheek; cooking the flesh in an instant. Maimed, Septimus toppled, both nikanas tumbling to the floor as he clutched his ruined face. "My face!" Septimus shrieked. "You ingrate! You animals! We are Orokin! We are Gods!" Kael rolled back, the Sohren's blade appearing in his hands once more. "You forget yourself, Septimus. We slaughter Gods." He charged. Septimus snatched up his swords, livid; catching the strike just in time. The duel resumed in earnest. Telin hissed in frustration. The duellists moved too quickly to risk a shot. Knowing his luck, he would only hit Kael, and if that happened it was all over. Telin did what little he could. He drew his improvised hand-axe and charged. He tripped on the steps. This was probably just as well, as a return sweep of Septimus' sword would have entirely bisected him there and then. Septimus' perfect face was flayed and charred on one side, one eye swollen shut. As ugly and twisted as the Orokin Empire itself. He stomped his foot at Telin's head. The scavenger rolled, panicking. The boot landed so heavily stone cracked. Then Kael was on Septimus, driving him back. The Orokin was a wild beast. Maimed as he was, robbed of his perfect beauty, Septimus snarled and struck wildly. Pushing himself beyond any reasonable measure. Completely overextending himself. Kael gave ground, but for the first time ever in a duel with Sohren, the young Tenno held back. Bade his time. Watched the erratic, wild striking patterns for what they were: reactive, petulant; a killing tantrum. As the twin swords slashed and whipped at him in a chaotic frenzy, Kael studied his attacker. There was no pattern, no structure to it. But there were flaws in the frenzy. A lack of self-regard, an absence of defensive discipline. It strengthened Kael. Helped him steel his resolve for what needed to be done. Sohren would never have been so sloppy. Kael met the berserk Orokin head on. A high deflection, flowing into three quick counter cuts that met each chopping sword in turn. Kael found his gap. He smashed the hilt of his sword upwards in a savage uppercut; cracking his knuckles into Septimus' chin. Felt his own fingers break. Kael shunted the pain aside. His grip on Sohren's sword never wavered, stepped into the Orokin's guard. Kael shouted as he spun, dropping to one knee. He stabbed the nikana behind him, once. Sohren's blade drove clean through Septimus' breastplate, piercing the beating heart within. Septimus gasped. Blood jetted down the length of the blade. There was a clatter as twinned nikana slipped from his hands. Kael rose to his feet, head bowed. A hush fell over the entire throne room. All eyes were on the violent tableau at the end of the room: the scavenger, draped on the steps, a smoking Detron in his hands. The lone Tenno, turning to look in shock at what he had just accomplished. The Golden Lord, with the hilt of a golden sword jutting from his chest. Nobody dared breathe. Septimus looked down at the blade. He took one shuddering step back, then another. He slumped back into the throne, gazing down in amazement. There was a palsied shake to his hand as he tried to pull the sword free, and failed. The Orokin's voice was small and confused, as he marvelled at the blood seeping down his breastplate. "But we are the House Eternal…" Septimus whispered, "… our will is…. forever…" His head drooped. The light in his eyes faded. The Nullification faded. The Void returned once more. Lord Septimus was gone. There was a flurry as the surviving Dax gave a single stern shout, and took their lives in unison. Opening their throats or falling upon their swords. The surviving scavengers yelped in horror, but it was over in one savage instant. Golden bodies crashed to the ground left and right. Doric lowered the halberd, shocked. He had been driven into a corner, surrounded on all sides. Sara gingerly stepped over the bodies that littered the floor. She and Isolde embraced, shaking from the adrenaline; exhausted beyond words. Kael drew Sohren's blade from Septimus' chest. He wiped the blade clean, holding it close as he bowed, deeply. The bow was many things. A confirmation that the deed was done. An apology, for being too late. Most of all a farewell, to a fallen brother. Then the Tenno fell to his knees, and wept. Telin rolled onto his back, blinking as he took in the carnage that had been visited upon the throne room. Little more than a third of the scavengers had survived: would have been doomed, but for the intercession of the Tenno and their bounty hunter allies. He saw Stren hauling Kelpo back onto his feet. Telin caught their eye with a wink as he gestured to the aftermath of the carnage all around them. "See? All according to plan." "Soon as I reload." Stren growled. "I'm going to shoot him." "Not If I shoot him first." Kelpo countered darkly. Parson-Luk hurried over to Brakarr. The Grineer had been punctured, slashed and clipped at the knees. Yet the internal housing of his war rig remained stubbornly unscathed. The old Grineer warrior still breathed. The Ostron worked quickly: deft hands tying loose tubing and cannibalising spare parts to salvage essential systems. "You still with us, Grineer?" Isolde asked as she crossed the chamber. Brakarr flapped his hand at them, refusing to be fussed over. The Grineer reached up and unsealed his facemask. A toothy grin split his mottled, leathery face. "Tenno skoom." "This is all very touching, but this isn't over." Doric addressed the chamber, voice carried by the acoustics of the vaulted walls. All eyes were on him as he climbed the steps, turning to face the survivors as a whole. "There's still a Corpus frigate in low orbit." Kael appeared at his side, eyes raw, expression determined. "I'll need a Liset." "You'll have it." Doric nodded. "But you'll need to be quick." Kael simply smiled at that. "And you won't go alone." Sara warned him. "Not this time." Kael bowed gratefully, hands clasped before him. Mesa stepped forward, Isolde's voice filling the air as the Pyrana twirled in her fingers. "Well then, shall we?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- An hour later, an alert chimed softly on the bridge of the Dominant Position. Ennui had set in across the bridge, trapped as they were in a holding pattern. "What was that?" Captain Pohld asked his XO. Lieutenant Sel. Sel's brow creased as he consulted the display momentarily. "Minor sensor anomaly, Sir." Sel reported mildly, double checking. "It's gone now. Debris from the remnants of the Orbital Defence Grid, most likely." "Very well. Carry on." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The ceiling grate hit the floor with a clang. Volt dropped from the rafters, cloak flowing around him as he rose to his feet. Behind him, Mesa, fingers twitching low at her side. Kael looked back at Isolde, nodded once. Elsewhere, Atlas and Mirage were already in position. Kael gave the order. The power went out. Ship wide outage, total system failure. By the time power was fitfully restored, it was too late. The record maintains that the Dominant Position was lost due to catastrophic core breach, on account of a poorly mounted fuel cell. At a Board level, the loss of material was quietly noted, but deemed inconsequential. Boards of inquiry were conducted, insurance policies claimed. Then the matter was closed, the colony and its troubling history quietly forgotten: a small blot on an otherwise profitable quarter. Core components of the ship still linger in the orbital debris field, even to this day. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Atop the Severance Package, back-lit by the Venusian sky, Telin and Kelpo watched as the explosion settled. The severed bridge module entered the atmosphere, descending like a comet; disintegrating from the sheer fiery heat of the atmosphere. It came apart in a thousand fiery pieces, that vanished as contrails of streaming smoke that lingered for hours after the fact. The remnants of the Corpus army watched too, from afar. They were stranded here now. In time, they would acclimate to the battered colony, free of the constant indoctrination of Board dogma. Some would descend into criminality, others becoming vagrants and drifters: pawn brokers and guns for hire. This is not their story. "Repairs are underway." Kelpo said. "Teico says we'll be airworthy in less than an hour. What're you thinking?" Telin Voss said nothing for a moment. He looked at the silent Orokin barge, studying it. Truly, a once in a lifetime find. Priceless. Telin chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. He turned his head and spat. "Think I'd rather find out where Neera went. Let's get out of here." Kelpo did a double take. "Really? You don't want to do anything about the giant Tier Zero find sitting right there?" "Trust me, Kelp." Telin clapped Kelpo on the arm, still chuckling as he headed for the bridge. "More trouble than it's worth." Edited September 18, 2018 by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 Minor typos Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted September 18, 2018 Author Share Posted September 18, 2018 (edited) Epilogue: On Prospect 141 "Prospect 141? Nobody goes there anymore." - Unknown trader -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Months passed. There were, naturally, unresolved matters. Our universe is a messy place, and never truly has an ending. It drives on, with the endless passing of time; relentless. Prospect 141 was left to its own devices; forgotten by the very corporations that once dictated its every waking moment. The Upper Tier, once a monument to Corpus dominance, became a No Man's Land: a desolate wasteland that masked the teeming life in the Mid and Low Tiers beneath. The surviving Corpus, free of the routine indoctrination that so many crewmen were subjected to, became a gang in their own right; bartering the ruined drones and scrap resources for food and access to the colony below. As for the Orokin vessel. It departed soon after the events of this story, retrieved by agents of the Tenno and their mysterious allies. That it led to a renewed interest in Orokin technology, and the eventual reawakening of the Rail thereafter. There is no law in Prospect 141. Not anymore. It is a black market city, an illicit trade hub; a scavver's paradise. The gangs rule much of it, and in truth I am glad to see the back of it. The rebellion was never intended to liberate the colony. Opinion on it amongst the Solaris remains divided, even today. Some praise Vanger Hosk, calling him a hero for defying the Board against unstoppable odds. Others branded him a fool, who damned a colony. Hosk's Folly, as they sneeringly call it. As for how you see it, I leave that to you. I have told events as best as I remember them, building the wider picture from interviews of those who played a larger role than I. All I know is this: Vanger Hosk was an honourable man, and did what he felt was best. I still remember that day, on the fateful push up the ziggurat. My arm still aches, even now. It was a salient lesson to Solaris United. Never again would they face the Board in open field. Their proxies are too many, their resources too great. No, the Solaris cause would live on in the shadows, hiding in plain sight beneath their master's very nose. In time, the benefits of that daring raid would become apparent. The struggle would continue, anew. Others would take up their cause, in time. Of the Tenno who fought in that early battle, I know not what became of them. They were warriors of the Void, cursed and blessed in equal measure. Their stories are their own. And, surely, only beginning. Edited September 20, 2018 by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Blakrana Posted September 18, 2018 Share Posted September 18, 2018 Well choreographed to the last. All round enjoyable read. One way or another, be interesting to see what the next story you've in mind may be. Till then, best of luck regardless what follows. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aldrr Posted September 19, 2018 Share Posted September 19, 2018 Just... bravo. Simply bravo! 🙂 I always enjoy finding hidden gems like this, and I hope to see another like this in the future. At the end you kinda just "let go" of the different character groups, so I'm guessing a "new installment" would focus on a subgroup of them (maybe the Tenno,) with 1-2 returning side characters (ie checking in to see how Telin and Kelpo are doing and to call in a favor), or an entirely new "cast." 🙂 Tenno/10 😎 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DrMegavolt Posted September 20, 2018 Share Posted September 20, 2018 ...what even?! This is so good, it defies explanation. Bravo! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted September 20, 2018 Author Share Posted September 20, 2018 (edited) Coda: Of Endings, and Beginnings -------------------------------------------------------------------------- They buried the Dax's sword on a hill overlooking Cetus. In the distance, the Condroc's plaintive cries echoed across the steppe. Soon it would be dark, and the waters would glow that ethereal glow. They must be quick. Soon, the Eidolon would stir. Parson-Luk breathed deeply, drinking in another lungful of scented, clean air. He was incredulous to be back on the Plains. Incredulous to be alive, and reunited with his daughter once more. Ordinarily out in the wild he would be wary. Even in the long shadows of sunset, there were often Grineer patrols about. And yet he was not. The Tenno were with him, and mighty Brakarr too. His companion's new war rig was a monstrous thing indeed; paid for by the vast credit reserves Terrenus Vern held, but never truly enjoyed. And yet the brute watched peacefully as Parson-Luk's daughter Valla ran circles around him, delighted by the shining giant, and the chance to step beyond the city's walls. Valla was healthy. For that the old tracker was glad. As gatherings went it made for an eclectic mix: the Tenno, the Ostron and the rogue Grineer. The scavvers of Venus had sent a bottle of aged moonshine, dredged from the ever-suspicious stores of the Severance Package. There would be sore heads in the morning. The Quills too were present. They watched from afar. Fate seems to shift and churn around these Tenno in a state of constant flux. It fascinated them. Isolde led the ceremony, surrounded by her fellow Tenno. They bid farewell to Terrenus Vern and Tenno Sohren. The funeral wreath was tied by the Tenno as one, under the Ostron tracker's careful instruction. They placed it on the great boulder Brakarr rolled into position. Isolde and the Tenno pressed their hands against the smooth rock, burning their hand prints into the stone. The Ostron left a tribute of a sharpened zaw, engraved with Vern's name. Valla, a single iron flower. Two great warriors, honoured by a nomadic tribe of mercenaries and warriors. It seemed fitting, in a way. For this was Cetus: Landless, of no one clade; home to any who are blown as dust on the wind. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- As reunions went, it was a brief one. Parson-Luk remained on the dock with Valla and Brakarr, watching the Tenno Lisets depart one by one. The Exchange still hunted them. Even under the Unum's endless watch, none of them were truly safe. As it came together, the Cell diverged once more, bound for destinations far beyond the lapping shore. The two bounty hunters and the young girl watched them go: content, for now, for a moment's rest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kael looked around at the Relay, mouth agape. Stunned by the shoals of Lisets that streamed in and out of the station, his head on a swivel. There were more Tenno than he had ever seen. All manner of Frames strolled through the entryway. No two were alike. Each told a story, wore a storied history on their armour: be it through dented plating or ornate scroll-work. A riot of colour and self-expression, far more than was ever permitted by the House Eternal. Kael shook himself. That was the past. This… this was his future. Other Tenno greeted him as they stepped through the arrival gates, some saluting or bowing to as they approached. Many passed without a second glance. They were strangers to Kael, and yet he felt a kinship with them. What stories had they lived? What glories had they witnessed? Below their feet stretched the entirety of Venus. Prospect 141 seemed a small and distant memory now: tiny, insignificant. Doric and Sara awaited him at the foot of a statue, watching their bewildered friend with bemused smiles. "What happens now?" Kael asked. Doric looked at Sara. Sara grinned. "That, my dear Tenno, is entirely your decision." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Exchange was a city unto itself. A floating trade hub, surrounded on all sides by Corpus picket ships and larger frigates. It nestled at the heart of Corpus space, in low orbit over Neptune. The Hall of Submission was ornate, by Corpus standards. The floor was a rich amber marble, imported at significant expense. The supporting columns overlooking the vast space, hiding their metallic core in layers of stained copper. Any visitor would never think they were on a cyclopean space station, but for the silvered viewport that looked out onto the Corpus fleet beyond. People of all kinds flocked here. Those with grudges to nurse and credits to burn. A long counter of processing clerks awaited the crowds: sixteen clerks long, each with a dizzying amount of cybernetic prosthesis. The length of the waiting lines in the reception hall spoke volumes as to the current state of galactic harmony. It didn't matter who they were. Everything was a transaction here. Credits for blood. Life for Profit. Across the Origin System, the Exchange's agents stood by, awaiting their bloody work; preparing weapons and watching the alerts as the bounty boards steadily updated. The clerk worked her station as best she could: cybernetic hands dancing across the haptic display at her station. Sweat beaded her tattooed forehead. She had processed two hundred contracts this work cycle, and there were another six hours left on her shift. "Next!" The girl in the hood stepped forward. She was diminutive, far too young to be in a place like this. Still, there was protocol. "Name." A name was given, inputted at lightning speed. "Face forward for the camera please." The girl removed her hood, staring regally at the hovering drone, perfectly poised. The clerk abruptly stopped typing. The girl was little more than a teenager. Delicately beautiful, with ivory skin and dark black hair tied in an elegant ponytail. Yet there was something off about her. An ethereal glow to her eyes. An aura of cold precision that belied her years. The clerk blinked, conscious that she had lost precious seconds of productivity. Any further dallying would be penalised. She triggered the tiny camera drone with a hasty wave of her hand. The recording began: uploading the conversation to the Exchange archive. "Please state your business." The clerk requested. "I'm here about an outstanding contract." The girl began, in a clipped, formal accent. "I wish to make a formal complaint." "I see. Which contract?" The clerk's hands hovered over the holographic keyboard, waiting. The girl tilted her head upwards, her eyes meeting the clerk's directly. Isolde flashed a dangerous smile, right before the alarms sounded. "Mine." Edited September 21, 2018 by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 Now Listening: Rival Sons "Do Your Worst" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DrMegavolt Posted September 20, 2018 Share Posted September 20, 2018 (edited) I know I already commented, but that post-ending sequence was amazing, and I straight up laughed at Isolde's visit to the Exchange. I can't wait to see what (if anything) else you may find yourself writing in the future - you do a seriously good job of it! Edited September 20, 2018 by DrMegavolt Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Loza03 Posted September 20, 2018 Share Posted September 20, 2018 2 hours ago, (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 said: "Please state your business." The clerk requested. "I'm here about an outstanding contract." The girl began, in a clipped, formal accent. "I wish to make a formal complaint." "I see. Which contract?" The clerk's hands hovered over the holographic keyboard, waiting. The girl tilted her head upwards, her eyes meeting the clerk's directly. Isolde flashed a dangerous smile, right before the alarms sounded. "Mine." Ooooohohohohho Oh they dead. They very dead. This was worth the wait, entirely. A great story, and I look forward to reading it again in the future sometime. Maybe we'll see these characters again, maybe not. But either way, I enjoyed this thoroughly. Thank you. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
RolloDex Posted October 5, 2018 Share Posted October 5, 2018 By far the best piece of Warframe fiction I've read thus far, and certainly one of the best fan stories I've ever read. Flawlessly executed, to the end. Looking forward to seeing what you have in store next. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139 Posted October 5, 2018 Author Share Posted October 5, 2018 Thanks! If anyone is looking for the story in its entirety, the full package is collated here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12929404/1/Scavengers-A-Warframe-Story I need to switch gears for a small bit (as writing a full story in a condensed time span is exhausting), so I am currently working on a Fallout story (length TBD). I am hoping to revisit some of the characters here, both to tidy up a few of the loose ends that were, by necessity, hastily tied, and to explore some of the wider factions and universe.. I'll let the ideas sit in my imagination a while longer, and percolate. Mm, percolate. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
BallisticSalsa Posted October 6, 2018 Share Posted October 6, 2018 I have to say this is easily one of the best pieces Ive read fanwork or otherwise. The fanwork tends to be unpolished and while enthusiastic often lacks the technical skill to prevent it from being distracting. The official stuff is often just sparse and lacking the meat to be more than a light unsatisfying snack. It has inspired me to work on my own stuff. Though I'm not really interested in the tenno perspective. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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