The Screaming Sky - DM Downrightamazed

Game Master downrightamazed

"A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now." -- Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow


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"I think I've seen this before... First, they ask you to save the Earth..." He deadpanned with the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Next thing you know, BAM! You're the host of a symbiotic alien policeman."

He noticed Chelsea tense slightly as the walls peeled away to revealing the cavernous hanger complex before them. Airfix always got a bit irascible around Mecha bays. Perhaps it was a wistful memory of lost glory or the sting of bad memories - possibly both. He couldn't fault her - that whole thing had been a heck of a nasty mess. Reaching over, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Always got your back, Chel.

He stepped out of the van onto the metal floor, giving the saluting Cadwallader a wide berth. If he wasn't saluting the Major, he sure as hell wasn't giving one to the gearheads.

Instead, he let his feet keep their momentum, keeping the casual pace as he angled himself to intercept one of the ground staff.

"Winston. Winston Chang." The greeting was a casual one and he offered his hand in a firm handshake. "I need a rundown on the basic-four."

It was a simple un-ostentatious introduction common to the lower ranks who usually lived, fought and died together, a statement of name inviting reciprocity and the request of assistance an admission of one's new status. The basic-four were the cornerstones of a soldiers existence - the bunks, the mess hall, the person nominally in charge and the person who actually knew what was going on. The details of everything else could be sorted out afterwards.

He lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper. "Pardon the tin-man."

--------------------------------

@ Everyone: When I did my basic training, every day without fail, there'd be at least one recruit doing laps around the parade square while screaming "A Sir is a Sir! A Sergeant is a Sergeant! A Sergeant is not a Sir! A Sir is not a Sergeant! I will salute a Sir! I will not salute a Sergeant!" That beat the urge to salute everything in sight out of us real quick. :-)


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

As the doors open the sight of the Engels takes Devereux's breath away. No matter how many times he sees them he feels in awe of their size, the unearthly blend of the mechanical and biological, and their potential for dealing out damage.

Shaking his head he steps off the lift, walking beside Alastair he coughs and dryly says, 'At ease.'

Nevertheless he waits patiently for a response to the WO's question.


As you all exit the van, a tall, handsome, middle-aged african man approaches. Dressed in a lab coat, with safety goggles pushed up onto his forehead, he exudes a cheery calm as he addresses you. "Ladies, gentlemen, hello. I am Dr. Umaru Musa Yaradua. I believe I understand what you seek, allow me to explain." His voice has an earthy and pleasant Yoruban accent, tinged with a slight English crispness. Foreign-educated, perhaps?

"This, " he indicates the expansive hangar around you, "is The Hive. There are many of us here, for whom The Hive provides all things. We welcome you to this, your new home. We do not necessarily dole out rank or follow military protocol here, so you may feel free to stand -- how do you say it? -- Oh yes; 'At Ease'." He smiles broadly. He is not teasing, he's honestly pleased with himself that he remembered the term. "If there is a commanding officer in this facility, it is you seven, but I think you will find such terms fall away and lose meaning rather quickly in this place."

The floor tech that Winston spoke to smiles and nods in agreement with Dr. Yaradua. "Plenty of us are civilians -- well, were civilians -- so we didn't have any rank to begin with. Take me, for example; I was a race mechanic. F1. Working on the stuff that comes in here is way cooler." He gives a nod and continues on his way to wherever he was going before he was stopped.

The doctor picks up again, gathering you around him and starting to walk slowly along one wall of the hangar, towards a human-sized door on the far side. "We have been briefed on your arrival by a Miss...um..." He consults his PCPCU. "...Nyx! Yes. We of course will facilitate and aid and assist your efforts however we may. In addition, I believe this Nyx person has provided support personnel for you. Let me see if I can find them. They were not adjusting well to things here..."

As you approach the door, you notice it's bigger than you initially thought. In fact, it grows slightly as you get closer, widening until it can accomodate two abreast. The doors hammer open and a teenage girl screams past on a hoverboard of some sort. "OUTTATHAWAYOUTTATHAWAYOUTTATHAWAYYYYYYYYYYYY!" She yells as she barrels across the hangar, narrowly missing you before angling up towards the ceiling.

Dr. Yaradua gives an embarrassed little cough, and continues walking.


Kyra smiles like a kid in a candy store when he sees their engels in the hangar bay. Azrael growls slightly and shutters when Kyra runs his hand along the engel's head.
"Missed you too buddy."


Alastair stands at ease, Dr. Yaradua's explanation was intriguing and although Valkyrie was watching him inconspicuously, she remained calm and still as she awaited him patiently. He had a small moment of apprehension but kept his features controlled as he walked past. Despite the fact he was her pilot, she was more mentally taxing then he had ever admitted to the eggheads. Especially his rival Kyra couldn't ever know that his Engel had started wearing him down, he never live it down if he found out.

As Alastair strode past Valkyrie the pair shared a small brief nod, the movement of the Engels massive horns caught the attention of some of the technicians in a bad way and some hastily moved further away from the over fifty foot tall Behemoth. Alastair couldn't help chuckling at the reaction, Kyra's Engel caught his attention as well. Azreal put him on edge, reminding him of a creature he ad seen once and thankfully only once. Every time he saw that thing move or heard it growl he found he had a sudden longing for a large shield, helm and a longbow. His reminiscing was interrupted by the sudden appearance and shouts of the girl on the hover board.

As she screamed past and shot towards the ceiling he feigned a grimace as he smiled roguishly towards Kyra. "We should have a ra..." He paused as he saw his comment was falling on deaf ears, still smiling, he left Kyra to reconnect with Azreal and continued following the Doctor as they toured their new home.


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

Devereux falls into step besides John as they follow Dr. Yaradue through the complex, keeping one ear on the conversation he says in a low voice 'We have a meeting with Kyra's "friend" tonight at 21:00 in the warehouse district, we need to excuse ourselves to discuss how we want to handle it.'.

Raising an eyebrow at the wayward teenager he sees Dr. Yaradua ignore her, and follows suit. Speaking up, 'Dr., you called this place The Hive as if it were an almost living thing...? I know it must seem as if I run on a one track mind, but with so many years spent in the military it is hard for me to break away from the idea that someone is in charge of an operation this big.'


The doctor barely spares Kyra a glance as the Nazzadi communes with his Engel, but smiles warmly at Devereux's question. "I understand, of course. I will do my best, but The Hive is very difficult to explain. In fact I am not sure anyone can, to be perfectly honest with you. Thus far it seems to have tolerated our activities, though some certain acts have brought...retributive measures down upon the heads of the perpetrators." You are walking through a large cafeteria. Dozens of people are eating, reading, talking, socializing, even working. There is some serious tech on display here, too.

"The Hive was discovered over a century ago and has been kept more-or-less a secret since then. We do not know where it came from or how it got here, who built it or what it's built of, or how it does what it does. But we do know that it is remarkably accommodating to reasonable individuals, skilled ones even moreso. It is a little difficult to get around in, but no one ever gets lost...let's see, there will have to be a place for all of you, a quarters...hmmm..."

Dr. Yaradua trails off for a minute, then seems to find his bearings and continue walking down a side hallway. "What happens in the hive, Mr. Atkinson, is not strictly military. Or rather, it is not only military. Many other organizations have researchers and technicians and even small strike teams -- er, like yourselves, yes? -- housed here. It would be quite impossible to get one person to command them all. They wouldn't stand for it."

He stops before a completely anonymous door at a random point in a long featureless hallway. "If you are meeting a friend, you may get back into the city however you wish. You may take a drone, or cars, or you may call in vehicles of your own if you wish, it is all one to me. This, as I said, is your home now, so you are free to come and go as you will."


This was not at all what John had expected, though it did seem quite secure. He was glad that he had decided to travel light, having only his backpack a single small suitcase made maneuvering through the enormous hanger somewhat less of a chore than it could have been... although his knee still wasn't particularly happy with him. Seeing the Engels first hand was incredible. Fighting the war from a desk, seeing it through intelligence reports and tactical maps- it was easy to lose track of the scale of the fighting. Here, dwarfed by these things, he was reminded of just how far from the font lines he'd been for the past few years.

John nods at Devreaux's information and murmurs back, "I think we'll have some time to ourselves soon, right now I want to find out who else is waiting for us."

Before they part ways with Dr. Yaruda John inquires, "Excuse me Dr. Yaruda; if there's no chain of command, is there at least a quartermaster? I'm curious about exactly what NEG resources and equipment have been positioned here so far, and I'd like to introduce myself to the support personnel you mentioned."

@GM:
Since 'the hive' is referred to as a living being, is there any sort of aura to be noted? After what he saw with al-Khidr, John is only dropping the eldritch faculties spell if he sees something so terrible that it threatens his sanity.


"Discovered? Pardon me doctor, but what exactly do you mean by 'the Hive was discovered'?"

Winston considered the turn of phrase with consternation.

"The way you describe it, it's almost as if we are being tolerated within the confines of something larger of sorts. Given that 'retributive' action has been taken in the past, what exactly are we talking about here?"

The itchy sense of paranoia began working at the back of his skull again.

"You seem familiar enough with the place Doctor... could you given us an idea of what does and does not constitutes 'reasonable individuals'?"


Alastair was intrigued by the thought that the Hive was alive, despite his own apprehension with Valkyrie he took this place as a new challenge. A labyrinth for him to explore, unknown and frightening guardians to face, along with more groups to interact with. He found it hard to not smile at the thought of all the possibilities, he rubbed his chin with an armored hand as he thought of what he would asked the doctor. "We are the ones in charge of a semi-lax command position, eh? It gets better and better by the minute. I am interested in hearing what answers you have for the others questions. Now, if this Hive is everything you say it is Doctor, then I look forward to exploring it further." Finding what other secrets it may have and its borders... "I'd like to know who these other groups are and who in particular will be working on our Engels as well?"


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

Devereux nods, This place is amazing, the longer I stay on this planet, the more I find that suprises me he thinks. Suddenly memories of his own past, his own planet and all the things he had been conditioned to believe were his came flooding back.

'come and go as you will...'

He hears as he turns and marches back down the corridor at the Dr.'s last words. This isn't my home! No matter how many years I stay here it never will be, the next generation has a home, but not for me, I fight for their future, but goddam it somedays its so hard not loose it all.

Lost in his own thoughts he wonders through the corridors for 15 minutes before finally snapping out of it, realising he wasn't paying attention to where he was going he tries to backtrace he steps to the group.


"Big guy seems a bit of a pollyanna..." Winston whispered from the corner of his mouth, glancing in Alastair's direction with a shrug.

"Play nice, Winston, play nice..." Chelsea shot him a bemused look. "Statistically, only about half the known world is trying to kill you at any given moment - there's always the other half."

"Which just doesn't know me very well."

She rolled her eyes as he continued.

"Regardless, there's something about this place that just freaks me out."

"Winston... if you haven't noticed by now, everything freaks you out."

"Good point."

"Hold that thought."

She stepped past him, skirting around the edge of the rest of the group.

"How's the leg doing today, John? Need a hand?" She beckoned him to hand over the suitcase with her free hand.

Winston watched, impressed that she had noticed the Major's slight limp. Nevertheless, there was something else that pricked at the edge of his conscious thought. Glancing back to the rest of the group, he felt the nagging sensation slowly filter back in.

"Hey... anyone noticed where Devereux meandered off too?"


John wrote:
"Excuse me Dr. Yaruda; if there's no chain of command, is there at least a quartermaster? I'm curious about exactly what NEG resources and equipment have been positioned here so far, and I'd like to introduce myself to the support personnel you mentioned."

"Yes, the NEG has situated a...surprisingly large group here for you not far off the hangar. I will take you to them in a moment."

Winston wrote:
Discovered? Pardon me doctor, but what exactly do you mean by 'the Hive was discovered'? The way you describe it, it's almost as if we are being tolerated within the confines of something larger of sorts. Given that 'retributive' action has been taken in the past, what exactly are we talking about here?"

"Well," the Doctor considers for a moment. "I mean that there were munitions tests going on out here in the desert, over a hundred years ago, and one of the explosions uncovered a door where there should not have been a door. All attempts to excavate the building around the door failed. Eventually, teams were sent in. Early explorations had mixed results. Once scientists came down, however, the building seemed to brighten, and doors appeared where before the soldiers had only found traps or bare walls. Sometimes, rooms would appear or disappear, seemingly at random. Sometimes people would be in the rooms when they vanished. Sometimes they would come back or appear elsewhere. Sometimes...not."

Winston wrote:
"You seem familiar enough with the place Doctor... could you given us an idea of what does and does not constitutes 'reasonable individuals'?"

"The Hive seems to be quite intelligent, curious, and protective, and tends to prefer individuals of a similar bent. The presence of soldiers is tolerated as long as research personnel outnumber them by a minimum of 3:1. If the ratio dips below that, the random rooms begin to appear again, and soldiers go missing, generally forever. Thus far, no process has been developed to prevent this." The doctor pauses significantly. "Many things have been tried. But the hive appears to be unimaginably large, very smart, curious, and peaceable. It is constantly building itself out of itself, adding rooms and halls and wings. If you have need of finding a place, you need only to focus on that place, and walk. The halls will 'guide' you there. Whether you go to that actual place or the hive builds it before you get there, we do not know. There is evidence to support both theories."

The doctor opens the door that you have stopped by, and inside is a fantastic "barracks". In the middle is a sunken hang-out area with a fireplace(!) and lots of sofas and cushions and blankets. Various entertainment media and options are scattered about. Data connections and commlinks are present. Through the far wall is a kitchen, next to which are six bathrooms. Your names are already etched in each bathroom door, Cythery and Kyra's names are on the same door. Arrayed around the communal center area are six large bedroom suites -- three on each of the remaining walls -- that also have your names etched in each door. Once again, the married Nazzadi have a shared space. There is ample desk space, some exercise machines, and a couple more unmarked doors in the kitchen.

The doctor beams. "Ah. Well, doesn't that look nice. Simply think of this place, however you wish to, and you will be directed back here. Now. If you would like to stow your gear, I can take you to meet with your 'people'."


@Devereux only:
As you walk, you find you keep returning to your dream of a few nights ago, which you've been having every night since, and it's getting harder to wake up from it with every passing night. Darkness, shadow, a warm and enveloping presence. Calm, steel nerves, a watching. The enemy passes you as if you are not there. You snap a neck, you feed...

You stop, suddenly, realizing you are utterly lost. Attempting to backtrack, you keep coming back to the dream, worrying at it, turning it over and over in your mind. Presently, you realize that rather than find the rest of your group, you have ended up in a dead-end hallway that has a single plain wooden door. The droning b-flat-flat hum of ancient lights is the only sound. There are no other doors. When you look behind you, the hallway seems to stretch for miles.

Is this a dream?

The door opens itself, and you are pleased at how calm you remain. Inside, a beautiful Nazzadi woman sits naked in lotus position on a slate floor covered in blood-red chalk markings. The room is very large and very dark and extremely cold. Unpleasantly humanoid shapes swing obscenely on butcher hooks in the high ceiling. There is a dripping sound. There is a gurgling snarl. The shadows are impenetrable, even to your eyes; they swirl and dance like things alive, and as they move they reveal shapes and fangs and eyes and claws. Rubbery skin, leathery hide, jaundiced eyes. Fevered glimpses of impossible nightmare forms made flesh.

The woman looks up, only she cannot possibly be looking, for her eyelids have been sewn crudely shut; the holes made by the needle are puffy and red and infected. In a silken voice made obscene by the partly ruined face it comes out of she says. "At last you come. I hope you are prepared, Chosen. Please, enter. Prepare to rejoice."

There is a strange heaviness at your back and you look quickly behind you. Where just moments before there was a long hall, now there is blank wall just a few feet behind you.

Where are you?


@Everyone else: As Winston speaks up, you notice that Devereux is indeed gone. Suddenly the door to his bedroom suite slams shut and vanishes, though his name remains etched on the wall where the door was.

Dr. Yaradua raises his eyebrows and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "...interesting." he says mildly.


Alastair hides his surprise, along with his disappointment at the thought of this places apparent dislike for soldiers. Maybe it'll warm up to us in time... Whit... What Am I Saying?! Continuing to master his features he marches in line with the others and at the comment of Devereux's disappearance he shrugs his shoulders in an unconcerned way as he set his duffle bag down and placed the medical kit next to it. "He can take care of himself, if we don't see him later perhaps we should envision him and start walking. Maybe the Hive will be merciful."

He looks around the room and gives a half hearted smile, the furnishings were indeed nice but that wasn't concerning him. He was concerned more with the fact that the Hive was possibly reading their thoughts in some way and that wasn't good. He already had his Engel scratching at his sanity and the possibility of something else treading around was a bit... Eerie…

”So if I am understanding you correctly Doctor, your telling us that the Hive is reading our thoughts in some way. Undetected? No matter what you’ve done you’ve never been able to find those who went missing?”


"What's wrong is someone scared of the big bad hive?" Kyra asks Alastair jokingly he then gets a mischievous grin as he thinks for a moment. "You know I wonder if this place has a training room where someone could spar..." He says to Alastair.

check your pm box Coreue


He might not be, but I sure as hell am scared out of my wits...

Winston looks at the former door with trepidation.

"I've bunked in far worse places, but a sentient complex... has to be the weirdest... No offence to the host." He added self-consciously.

The low rumble sounded like an air-conditioning unit kicking in from a distant ventilation shaft. He hoped it was.

It sounded too much like a bemused chuckle.

"You don't think the place just ate him do you?"

--------------------------------

@ Everyone: I've got a few things I want done. Most pressing is the need to find someone capable of running a chemical composition analysis on my sand collection. Also, want to go check in on the Rangers and run a few diagnostics. But at the current moment Winston is, in the immortal words of Egon Spenglar, "terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought" so that may have to wait.


Alastair gives Kyra a withering stare before cracking a smile. "Better be careful, it may dislike smartas$'s and Azreal may disappear too." Thinking about a sparring room he adds."Think and it will build it." With a chuckle he barely hears Winstons last comment and his cheer fades.

"Lets not think like that just yet, I will give him an hour to return and if he isn't back by then I will go looking for him. Now that we know where we'll be staying lets get a good look at our equipment and make sure its all in working condition."


Look big guy. I don't know if you can hear me, but we need to talk. He shot the ceiling a half-glance, almost expecting to be bludgeoned upside the head by a loose pipe.

I get that you don't like us soldiers. I don't blame you. We're noisy, destructive and have a nasty tendency to bleed on things. But right now, we need your help.

"Winston."

There are things out there that don't quite like us very much. If you're sifting my thoughts, then you'll already know about the Migou and the Rapine Storm. Neither of them are particularly keen on talking things through... so... I can't speak for the rest, but rather than stay fat, dumb, happy and rich, I'm here because I believe there are things on this god-forsaken ball that are still worth dying for."

"Winston!"

This is the penny tour of my brain, big guy. I'm not much of an intellectual - I just keep my head down, fight and hope to all hell to come back in a single piece every day. It isn't something to be proud of but every single day, less and less of us come back because we paid the blood price for another day of normalcy for the rest of them.

I'm not going to lie to you - I have no clue what we're going to do or what we're in for, but it appears we're going to be stuck here for a while...

And, for what it's worth, I'd rather be your friend than your houseguest.

So, if it was you, I'd sincerely appreciate it if you returned Devereux undigested...

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

"Winston!"

His blinked, suddenly noticing Chelsea's concerned expression.

"Sorry. Zoned out for a moment."

She narrowed her eyes at him accusingly - she knew there was more to it than he was letting on.

"Train of thought derailed at the station." He shrugged, walking past her to the barracks door. "Give me a moment. Got to collect a favor from a friend."

Stepping out into the hallway, he started walking.

I hope you were listening big guy...

--------------------------------

@ Everyone: Winston's talking to buildings now. His shrink is going to have a field day.


Communication is not just words: communication is architecture. Because of course it is quite obvious that a house which would be built without that sense… without that desire for communication, would not look the way your house looks today.

A chill runs down John's spine as he is once again taunted by his memory. Doctor Yaruda's explanation of the Hive conjures up a passage from a half-remembered book he read decades ago but the things that should matter like his honeymoon and the birth of his son are just gone.

Intelligent, curious, protective... that described the best kind of warrior. There were always exceptions for *certain* jobs, and a leader had to know his troops but just what kind of soldiers had they been sending down here? Suddenly thought comes to mind- John asks Dr. Yaruda "Has the hive reacted to the presence of the Engels? I'm certainly not an expert on them, but from what I've heard they don't have the sort of personality that you describe as agreeable to the Hive..." John trails off with a glance toward the Engel pilots present.

Chelsea wrote:
"How's the leg doing today, John? Need a hand?" She beckoned him to hand over the suitcase with her free hand.

John gladly accepts the aid. "Oh, it's not so bad today. Truth be told, I'm glad to get a chance to stretch it out after that train ride."

I knew I was forgetting something... Tenacity (16) test for chronic pain = 7+3d10 ⇒ (2, 7, 10) = 19 = 17


Alastair sighed quietly, trying to hide his frustration, he felt sorry for Airfix and felt a small amount of irony in her situation. Winston was starting to try his patience and he wasn't even the man's wingman, at least not yet. The irony though came from the fact the eggheads said he needed a 'break'. Clearly they needed to be looking in a different division...

He was tired of controlling his features, because he knew he was reaching his breaking point, he was impatient, annoyed and worried about this place. He grabbed his helmet, unclipped it from his belt and secured it over his head. At least now he could keep the visor dimmed and hide his annoyance. He waited for the doctor's answer and was interested in how the hive reacted to Engel's as well...


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

DM Downrightamazed:
Crap!, Devereux thinks to himself, I should never have left the group, what was I thinking!.

Taking a deep breath he tries to keep calm, OK soldier, take stock. I can't go back, the Hive wants me here, wherever here is. Why are her eyes sewn shut, and why has no one given them proper medical attention. Damn she's beautiful. No! stay focused Sergaent, you can't get distracted, why is she sitting there alone in this place and what are those markings on the ground. Why oh why did I leave my gun with the rest of my gear. Stop mopping, you've been trained in hand to hand, go in there and see what she wants

Devereux slowely steps into the room, every muscle tense, ready to leap into action at the slightest hint of danger. 'Who are you, and what am I chosen for?' he says, in what he hopes comes out as calm and confident.


Chelsea shook her head as Winston walked out, his face an impassive mask. He was unpredictable like that, seeing daggers in every corner and haring off on an unexpected tangent after a hunch or suspicion seemingly at random. Then again, he hadn't been quite his usual self since this whole thing started, so maybe letting him play detective with his paranoia would help him sort things through...

She noticed Alastair slip on his helmet, the wavering expression of exasperation darkening his features and barely held in check by decorum. Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"You all right there Alastair? Penny for your thoughts?"

--------------------------------

@ Everyone: Still walking... Still walking...


@Devereux:
The woman answers immediately. "The gift of the Ta'ge. The rite. You are Selected for the glory of Joining. Please, remove your clothes and be seated across from me." You sense movement and look behind you; a dozen or so more people -- human and nazzadi -- are in the shadows, and like the girl all of them are mutilated in some way or another; one man is missing every other finger. One woman has one breast. One man has had his nose removed. The amount of raw, destroyed flesh in front of you is bringing back battlefield memories of shattered bone and ruined muscle on dead soldiers. Did these people do this voluntarily?

You become aware of a strange moaning. You feel a cold calm, and the dream begins to cycle in your mind again; the hiding, the feeding, the glory...

The moaning is coming from you.


@John:
You notice a sort of arcane background "hum" that seems to originate around every corner and down every hall and duct here in the hive, but is never present where you are. There is definitely some kind of eldritch presence here, but not one you have encountered before in any of the usual literature.

Dr. Yaradua smiles broadly at John's question. "It is very interesting to me! The Hive seems to like the Engels. Your technicians, the ones who arrived here with the biomecha, they say never before have the creatures been so easy to work with. Can you think why that would be? I had never seen an Engel before now, so I know nothing about them. They are amazing things. Come! Let us go back to the hangar now, follow your friend Mr. Chang."

As you are leaving, Alastair and Kyra both note that one of the unmarked doors in the back of the kitchen now bears the word "Ringside".


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

@ DM Downrightamazed:
Shuddering at the sight, Devereux is frozen on the spot as battlefield after battlefield cross his mind, his friends and enemies alike all dead, the years of fighting, the killing, every emotion he has supressed seem to surge forwards at once. Finally he remembers that day so many years ago as if for the first time, where he lost everyone he ever cared about, the day he was forced to kill by his own hand those he once called friend. I've been living a dream all these years, why was I spared the peace of death, there has to be more to it then this life I have now, a shell of my former self!

Steeling himself he sets his jaw in solid resolve, If this is to be my fate then so be it, I shall emerge from whatever this rite is with purpose, or I shall finally have the death I deserve

'I will do what you ask' he replies, removing his clothes he bares the scars of battle proudly and without shame, his own body not unlike some of those around him. He then steps forwards and takes a seat cross-legged across from the woman, waiting patiently for her next request.


Cythery's quiet marveling of the place passes over like a hurried storm as she hears of the disappearance of Devereux. She couldn't help but find herself start to huddle closer to her husband. She clears her throat and tries to calm her shakes.

"Doctor,"
She pauses for a moment in order to regain composure.
"Doctor, did the hive just "eat" Deveroux? I am not sure how else to ask this but should we be very concerned?"

Hearing Winston and the others talking made her feel a bit on edge. She did feel some comfort that her husband and Artemi were there. She missed her precious Artemi, she treated her much like a little princess regardless of the fact she was of monstrous proportions. She turned her head to Kyra and in a hushed tone whispered “You better stay close to me, knowing my luck I do not want to be in the lady’s room doing my business and disappear too!”


"I won't let it eat you, I promise." Kyra says as he wraps his arm around Cythery's waist and holds her close as he rests his head against hers.

"Besides he said the hive likes the engels and were with the engels so we should be fine anyway." He says as he trails his hand up and down her spine which is partially exposed through her corset.


The Hive made him feel uneasy and the raw emotion's swirling around were making his unease worse and with Devereux missing his patience was thread thin. When Winston walked out he watched him go with his peripheral vision and was too distracted to notice when his partner Airfix approached him. Alastair flinched visibly when she touched his shoulder, it was the first indication he was badly distracted. At first he was at a loss for words and after a moment he collected himself and spoke quietly. He looked down at her, his helet hid the look of impatience that marred his features, it also masked his pain. "Fine, merely impatient to making sure Devereux is alright."

He paused for a moment before adding. "I don't know what happened to your partner and its his story to tell, but the road he is walking leads to nothing more then shadow and misery. I only hope that this venture helps him find purpose again. In the mean time however, I am interested in finding out if you have ever dealt with an Engel up close? And also, Would you like to?"

He wan't trying to show off, merely testing the waters, Winston's partner was his complete opposite and she had a promising future in something other then soldiering. It was because of how different she was that had peaked his attention and it unearthed memories he had thought long dead. As he turned to leave for the hanger he couldn't help but crack a hidden smile at Kyra and Cythera's affection. If he didn't have her, he wouldn't be much of a rival... Its good to have something to fight for.

"After I check up on Valk, you best get yourself ready Kyra because you'll have a ringside seat to when I knock you on your a$$." His short chuckle was poorly translated by his suits comm.


"He has been a bit of a headcase recently," Chelsea sighed. "He really took Nyx's little surprise badly. I haven't seen him this riled since China."

She gave him a pensive look as if looking for the right words.

"What's it like... if you don't mind me asking..." She gestured at the back of her head, where the ESI chip would normally be installed. "I know they put in a chip or something, but beyond that, the entire thing's completely alien to me."

As Alastair set off for the hanger, she matched his pace as he walked.

"Mecha, I can understand... Engels... are another thing altogether."

--------------------------------

@ Everyone: He's set off to find Devereux. God knows where Winston is going to turn up.


Alastair nodded at what Chealsea said about Winston, it was easy to see that Nyx had riled the man and hopefully he pulled himself out of the mire his thoughts had put him in. The man would bear watching out for; he couldn’t risk losing anyone right out the starting gate. He thought on how to easily phrase what it was like to pilot an Engel. ”Climbing into an Engel is like putting on a second skin, except this one can and will enhance your raw natural ability. If you’re fast, it will make you faster; strong will become stronger and so on. It reacts as quickly as you do now in the flesh.[b][smaller]

His thought’s drifted to the battles he had been in recently with Seraph, wadding into enemy fire and attempting to give ground pounders the best support he could. No matter how many he faced he was unafraid. Valkyrie too was unafraid; in fact she never flinched away from a fight. [b][smaller]”Granted you are not alone either, the Engel’s have personalities and they react differently to situations then you or I would. Valkyrie, my Seraph, is fearless and courageous in battle. I share some of those traits and when I am piloting there is not an enemy in this world I fear. Some call it reckless or mad, but I am at my calmest when entrenched in a battle and the more things get out of control or people panic; the calmer I become.” He sighs; it was hard to focus his thought to words, he wasn’t used to explaining any of this to anyone but eggheads and shrinks.

”I guess you’d have to experience it to understand the half of it, the hardest part about being an Engel pilot is when your injuries start clouding your judgment. Like I said the Engel’s have personalities and I know that my Valk has a fairly strong ego, so staying on my toes is a must. If you ever pass out while piloting, then the Engel can go berserk, they seem calm now but you never know what could happen when it’s left to do as it wants...”


Dr. Yaradua looks over at Cythery's question. "I do not know. I feel confident he has not been disappeared as his name has been left in place, as if the Hive is anticipating his return and leaving that space intact for him. Had his name vanished, I would be much more concerned."

The five of you -- Fix, Alastair, Cythery, Kyra, and John -- arrive back at the hangar in no time, and it is with relief you note that you easily remember the way there, almost as if you had external storage attached to your mind that was instantly loading directions. Once back in the hangar a tall, slim, nazzadi woman clad in a crisp NEG BDU approaches and salutes you. "Colonel Czerny Sobucek, 1st support battalion, Africa Corps, reporting. I have one company of soldiers here to support your mission, Major McNaught. We will all be remaining onsite for the duration. I see we have...four more, here, I was told there were seven of you? Are the others on-site yet?"


John returns a crisp salute then offers a handshake. It was a little odd to have a Colonel reporting to him, but such things happened from time to time in intel assignments. "Pleased to meet you, Colonel. The others are on-site, just making the acquaintance of the Hive according to Dr. Yaruda. Honestly I'm a bit overawed by all this," he waves his hand around to take in the whole hanger and the facility beyond it, "has your company had any incidents with the Hive since you arrived?"


Chelsea's eyes widen as Alastair walked her through the ESI process.

"Thanks Alastair. I think you've explained it well enough that I won't be getting any sleep tonight..."

"I can't say I regret turning down the Engel Project invite... even with what happened..." She looks away wistfully for a moment. "No offense Alastair, I'm glad it works out for you, but I wasn't keen on having mecha in my head then, and I don't think that's changed since."

She gives him a thin smile.

"Not turning down your offer though... and it's definitely not you or anything... just a lot of bad memories I thought I'd left behind."


Alastair chuckled at Chealsea's reaction at first before silencing himself altogether as she contiuned speaking. Everyone had a story and he was interested in hearing what hers was. "We all try to forget things, especially the bad, but that's what defines us makes us human and builds upon our character. Besides without your level head who would be watching out for Winston..."

He trails off as they suddenly arrive in the Hangar, greeted by NEG soldiers. He followed John's salute crisply and left the Major to handle the questions, he couldn't help but see Valk watching him again. Although when the Colonel spoke of how few of them were there, he finally noticed that Winston wasn't near the hangar entrance, as he leaned down and spoke quietly to Chelsea he scanned the hangar with his heads up display looking for Winstons face amidst all the bay workers.

"Did Winston take a side hall without us noticing? I thought he was just ahead of us..."

Ah hell... Where did he get off too?


The click of boots on the floor echoed against the metallic walls as he walked, calmly following the strange urging at the back of his thoughts.

I think I've seen that corridor before... He thought to himself, still keeping up the same one-sided mental conversation.

Maybe it's just me big guy, but I think you're pulling my leg. I'll admit it - if you are, you got me good. Still... I'm wandering your halls alone because I'm worried about my friend. I'm assuming you know where he is.

Winston sighed and kept walking So... throw me a bone big guy... Where is he? If you can't tell me, at least let me know he's currently all right. And if you're currently keeping me here because I'm an excellent conversationalist... which I'm not... a chair, some coffee and some feedback on your part would be appreciated.

Letting the mental urgings guide him, he kept his measured pace, walking to the door at the end of the long hallway and opening it.

--------------------------------

@ Everyone: WOO! STILL LOST! :-) Gives me an opportunity to give Chelsea some face time!


@Devereux:
You sit. The darkness thickens. Unkind lights appear, fluttering like blood in the dark, raising the hairs on your neck. Eyes begin to glow, but not like yours. These eyes are jaundice yellow and maggot white; mold green and spore gray. Some are small as spiders and some are as large as a car. They extend up above you for hundreds and hundreds of feet, a spiralling cavern of Watching and Waiting; invisible hungers in the dark. There is a shambling wobble in the air, a sickly movement of a thing so enormous a fetid breeze blows past you.

For the first time in your life, you cannot see in the dark, and it is terrifying. Give me a DC14 Fear test, please.

Something wet slides over your leg, badly abraiding the skin as it goes, and a cacophony of low voices rises. The sound is unearthly and unholy and unlike anything you have ever heard. You cannot believe human or nazzadi throats are capable of the guttural scrapings and mewlings that issue forth from the black waste all around you. Voices above, voices around.

Voices below.

A chattering whisper joins, and words form:

"Rana cavyna dra rozamakk
Rana yr dra jong
Dy dryk myryrk vmakr
'a romm iy'
'a cak iy'
'a okg iy' dy ryza
Doga vnyz 'k dryk kyvd
Cakdy' 'kyr 'k iy'n kmyni
Iy'n knakarra
"

The rhythm of the syllables spoken combines into a polyclacking racket that forms many-legged flying things landing on your person. You try to be disciplined, to be still, but they are probing all your orifices, these nightmares, these sharp-clawed and rending bugs, each the size of a rat but light as a butterfly, their grace made more obscene by their size. You are cut. You cannot move, your breath is a river of bile. More things, more eyes. Another heavy tread behind you, burning breath that stinks of shit and rotted flesh is hot on your neck, the floor goes away but you do not fall, instead great cackle-toothed monstrosities float up at you at the rate a feather falls, patient, relentless, hungry.

There is a flash, and the woman has cut you with a moon-shaped blade. The wound is a festering mouth that spits snotlike viscera out onto the floor. Your breath is a wasteland of ice, your lungs have almost stopped, your heart hammers in your ears, if only someone would come, some presence, if you could only be freed, if you could, if you could, if you.

A whisper. A promise of strength and silence. A trade. Place for place. The dream returns, you are invisible. (rubbery tentacle things slide over your leg and waist) You stand in light shadow, and the enemy does not see you. (limbs up from below move over your crotch your abdomen plunge into your open heartspace) Dispassionately you weigh their presence and Take the one most deserving. (flesh and bone and muscle and poison and spit and slime and snot and nerves wind around you choking and breaking and drinking) You move back and are invisible again. They cannot find you. You are the silent watcher. You are the death in the shadows every man fears. (a spike in your heart oh god oh god you are tearing from the inside there are Things moving inside you rubbery members filling you up expanding your every muscle there is a lurching
there is a gasping noise
there is a pain
there is a movement
there is the sound the voices the eyes there is
a screaming
sound
and
it is you)

The darkness takes you, and you pass out.


@Winston and @Devereux:
Winston makes his way along the corridors. Slowly, the light dims. The walls become less...solid. A creaking noise begins to persist. The temperature drops and there is a terrible chorus of spitting and clacking noises, like some horrid giant thing from the bottom of the sea, walking. Words echo, voices waft around the Ranger pilot's ears.

The hall darkens and widens. Soon the walls are not visible, then not the ceiling. There is a thick *splut* and Winston stops. It is now too dark for him to see just what he has stepped in, but it is thick, viscous like snot and dark like arterial blood. In the dim light, something flutters crazily by like a rat on moth wings. It chitters excitedly as it loops around Winston's head. The floor slopes, and he begins to slide.

Just as he is about to turn back, though, or at least get hold of something solid to consider his options, he sees a sickly green-white glow up ahead, unnoticable until his eyes adjusted to the light. There, face-down in a pool of viscera and rot, wiggling rats and pink-skinned white-eyed crawling things, is Devereux. He is naked, and coated with blood and offal. He is perhaps 50' away. It is impossible to tell if he is breathing.


In the hangar: Czerny twists her mouth. "We've been careful, but there were a couple of, ah, "incidents" early on, though in hindsight those were most likely caused by our own foolhardiness. We were a bit overeager to get everyone in here and weren't sufficiently careful about watching the 3:1 ratio of soldiers to scientists. We have since learned our lesson." She gives a wry smile.

"I've been briefed on your first two assignments. Is there anything we can get you? We have all kinds of people here, should have all the bases covered; transport pilots, technical personnel, hackers, trainers, research, logistics, you name it. How can we help you get started?"

Azrael makes a throaty growling noise that startles a couple scientists walking by, then settles back on its haunches again. It is absently clawing at the floor.


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

@DM Downrightamazed:
Fear Test:4d10 ⇒ (9, 7, 10, 5) = 31 => 10+8=18

Devereux stands firm even though his eyesight is taken away from him Is this what it's like for humans? he thinks, trying to keep his mind busy, away from the horrors that surround him. Soon it becomes hard to focus, he tries to work through various military strategies, but everyone of them twists to nightmarish images of rotting soldiers.

Sanity seems to be slipping away as the ritual progresses, finally he can take it no longer and screams, screams like he never has before, before finally welcoming the comfort that passing out affords.


Ignoring whatever it is he stepped in for the moment, Winston sprints over to Devereux's comatose form. "Oh... this positively can't end well..."

With his free hand, he brushes away a fat maggot-like thing from his chest, partially shoulder carrying, partially dragging the unconscious Nazzadi free of the puddle of gore, ignoring the slick, fetid slime that clung to his comatose form.

Thanks big guy. He left his gratitude hanging at the surface of his thoughts as he worked.

"What the heck happened to you?!" He whispered, partially in fear, partially in amazement as he checked for vitals. "Let's get you out of here."

He fixated his thoughts on finding a medic as fast as possible and glanced around for a possible exit.

--------------------------------

@ Devereux: Feel free to come around any time... You're kind of heavy. :-)


The scientists aren't the only ones.

Chelsea manages a startled yelp as she glances over at the gantry where the Chashmal stands.

"I am SO not getting used to this."

"Is it meant to be doing that?" She adds, all but drowned out by the shriek of alien talons against the reinforced metal of the hanger deck.


"Hahaha..." Kyra laughs as Azrael's growl and then subsequent scratching. "He doesn't like being cooped up for long periods of time. He'd rather be out under an open sky. In fact so would I."


Cythery couldn't help but let out a giggle herself. "Now Azrael, don't be mean honey!"


"He's just having a little fun, baby." Kyra says with a grin as he puts his arms around Cythery's waist and holds her.


Cythery draws herself into his arm and looks up at Artemi who lifts one massive arm and gives a bulky mechanical yet primitive wave. Cythery couldn't help but feel her face light up as she saw her greeting.
"Did you miss them too? I know I did, it doesn't feel right when they are gone for too long."


Valkyrie remained still, watching Alastair and every couple of moments tilting its head just enough to look towards Chelsea. It was hard to tell what she was staring at but when Azreal starts scratching the floor, Valk barely spared its fellow Engel a glance as it continued to stare towards Chelsea and Alastair. What are you thinking about now Valk? "Kyra and Azreal make a good match, so do Cythera and Artemi. Personally though I'd watch out for the quiet one. She's studying yo..." He paused as Valk flexed its hand suddenly, while fixing Alastair with its alien gaze. "She also hates helmets that cover my face, always quiet, always studying, watching..." He turns away from Valk and the Engel becomes still once more, its clawed hands at its sides, merely watching while tilting its head occasionally.

"Once we get our mission lined up I can introduce you too her, I should say it but that doesn't fit Valk."

He turns to the Major then. "I can inspect the transports and support equipment if you want to work out the logistics side of it Major."

Twenty minutes, until I hunt that pair down... At least I remembered to bring my pistols this time.


Alastair wrote:
"I can inspect the transports and support equipment if you want to work out the logistics side of it Major."

John nods at the pilot's suggestion, then tells Colonel Sobucek "Have your analysts put together a briefing on the two sites, with a focus on the current disposition of enemy forces. I'd also like to meet your admins and get our comms tied in with the base facilities."


@Winston: As you are slogging through the horrid and steaming stew of strangely mobile biomass, you can't escape the feeling that you are carrying not one but two beings out of there; Devereux seems somehow...bigger, or cloaked. It's weird. You look at him and it's like his shadow has a shadow. You keep catching flitting and furtive rushings out of the corner of your eye. The hallway seems farther than you remember and the tilt to the floor steeper than it should be.

Something bright whizzes through the air past you and to your horror you see slithery motion under Devereux's skin and before your eyes his triceps suddenly expands, rupturing his flesh and spewing out some terrible and thick liquid that has no business being inside a human body, covering your forearms in slime.

You hear the wet tearing of flesh and see that this same process is occurring all over the Nazzadi infantryman's body, and suddenly he is at least 20 lbs. heavier, his new bulk causing you to have to re-establish your grip and check your balance.

Give me a DC14 Fear test and a DC16 Agility test, please.

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