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First
Three, two, one... execute.
Ron peeked around the corner, his M4E1 Carl Gustaf already loaded with standard HEAT rounds. The rest of Alpha Team stacked up behind him or behind Ryan, who was on the other side of the doorway. Through the opening, they could see a nightmarish tangle of webs and egg sacs, with the skittering shapes of Spiranids lurking in the shadows in the far corners of the room.
The Queen was positioned in the center of the room, completely exposed by a cluster of eggs. Henry watched as Ron leveled his Gustaf, taking aim at the Queen while they stayed along the wall to ensure Ron’s backblast was clear. It should have been an easy kill, but a flicker of movement caught Henry’s eye.
A blob of white flew across his vision, smacking into Ron just as he fired his weapon. The thick strands of webbing bypassed Kelmithus’ shielding and wrapped around him, sending him flying back a couple of meters. He landed on his back, his body and launcher completely stuck to the floor by the condensed silk.
Around the same time, the Gustaf’s projectile struck the Queen’s abdomen section. The resulting blast tore through its exoskeleton but was far from a fatal blow. The Queen shrieked, a sound far deeper than Henry expected.
“Fuck!” Ron shouted, struggling to break free from the webbing.
Henry exhaled. They were a man down, but helping him had to wait; the not-dead Queen and its minions took precedence. It would be great if he had another launcher in his own Holding Bag, but that was something he’d have to bring up to Chief Cole later. Henry tossed his grenades into the room, the pops mingling with the screeches of injured Spiranids. Ryan struck simultaneously, throwing his own collection into the mix. Like firecrackers, the explosives were violent but short-lived.
As the chaos subsided, Henry pushed in. Raising his shotgun, he tore through a Spiranid that pounced at him, its carcass smoldering from the white phosphorous. Beside him, Isaac, Ryan, and Dr. Anderson’s shots rang out, tearing through their own sectors of fire.
Almost immediately upon their entry, the Queen surged forward with terrifying speed. It reared its head back like it was about to vomit, mandibles covered in a sick, yellowish color. Henry recognized immediately what it was trying to do. “Acid, move!”
Henry dove away from his previous position, taking a shot at another Spiranid that had taken the opportunity to jump at him while its master was preparing to attack. He narrowly escaped the lethal spray as it jetted toward him. The acid splattered on the ground where they had stood not even a second before, sizzling fiercely as it corroded the thick webbing sprawled across the floor. He noticed as he ran that, rather curiously, the acid was simply puddling on the floor. There was no damage to the floor itself, but if it could tear apart high-quality monster silk just like that, he didn’t want to find out what it could do to an envirosuit.
Henry glanced back after blasting apart his third Spiranid. His teammates were fine – Ryan helping him keep the Queen’s attention, Sera already on her way to Ron, and the others taking care of the smaller Spiranids. He tried to get a quick headcount of how many Spiranids they’d already eliminated. Between their guns, Kelmithus’ magic, and the grenades, he estimated they had killed at least a dozen so far. Solid progress, but the fact that they weren’t able to take out the Queen with their first strike was an issue.
Henry rolled to his left as the Queen pounced on his previous position. It was fucking fast, like a Goliath birdeater but scaled up – and with nasty abilities that really shouldn’t belong on a creature like this. He recovered quickly and took aim, firing point-blank into its thorax. The white phosphorous pellets hissed as they burned into its exoskeleton, forcing it back.
Beside him, Ryan’s shotgun boomed. He struck the Queen’s legs, which seemed to be more fragile than the thick exoskeleton surrounding the head and thorax. The pellets bit into the chitin, likely striking a nerve as evidenced by the leg’s subsequent buckling and collapse. It was a lucky shot – one that he doubted they could repeat four or five more times.
“Sera, use my knife! Here, right here!” Ron called out.
Sera’s sword must’ve been too large to effectively cut through the webbing. They had to hurry up. He and Ryan had been dodging the Queen’s attacks, but mostly by a hair’s breadth. All it took was one lucky hit from the Queen to put them out of commission, possibly for good. “Sera, status on Ron?”
“One minute!” she responded.
Damn. That was one minute later than he’d hoped. Reacting instinctively, Henry noted the Queen raising one of its legs – a sure sign of it preparing for another attack. The Queen struck again, this time cleaving the air with the leg, aiming to corral him into a predictable escape route. As its leg swept through the air, Henry caught sight of the Queen rearing its head back in a grotesque mimicry of a snake about to strike – another acid attack.
Anticipating the monster’s strategy, Henry feinted to the right, a move he hoped would mislead it about his true intentions. As the Queen’s head followed his feint, Henry twisted sharply, scraping against the rough ground. With a powerful push from his legs, he launched backward just as the Queen unleashed its attack.
Acid spewed forth in a wide arc, splattering where he had just been. The corrosive globs almost instantly melted the webbing on the floor, collecting into pools. And there was the second issue. The longer this fight dragged on, the less room they’d have to maneuver.
Henry unloaded into the creature’s compound eyes before tossing a flashbang near its legs. The creature staggered backward, blinded in both its eyes and its sensory hairs. Henry used the precious few seconds he bought to reload his weapon and check up on his team. “Yen, sitrep?”
“Stragglers neutralized; we’re moving to you now.”
Automatic gunfire erupted as Isaac and Dr. Anderson joined the fight against the Queen, dumping their mags on the creature’s head. The 6.8mm seemed to penetrate well, but he could say the same if they fought an elephant; the Spiranid Queen was simply too large for the relatively small caliber rounds to have any effect besides pissing it off.
The Queen lunged again, its legs surrounding him from all sides. There was only one way out, and it was through the belly of the beast. Henry rushed forward, ducking under the Queen’s mandibles as he slid underneath its abdomen. He fired his shotgun as quickly as he could, unloading pellets into the beast’s underbelly. The white phosphorous scorched the softer flesh, drawing a shriek of pain from the massive creature.
As the Queen writhed under the relentless assault, Ryan and the others seized the moment to reload their weapons and reposition. They poured everything they had into the creature’s cephalothorax, bluish ichor oozing from the hundreds of new wounds that they opened up. Yet, it was like chipping away at a mountain – it simply wasn’t enough. The creature thrashed around violently in response; Henry knew it was only a matter of time before it landed a hit on someone.
And land a hit it did. With a terrifying swiftness, one of its massive legs slammed into Henry’s chest, launching him backward. The shield Kelmithus cast on him flickered as it absorbed the brunt of the impact. He crashed into an egg sac by the entrance – its membrane ruptured on impact, drenching him in a sticky, corrosive slime. The sac provided little cushion, and he hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him.
Pain flared across Henry’s chest where the Queen’s leg had struck him. Gasping for breath and battling the encroaching blackness in his vision, he instinctively checked his envirosuit. He started with the areas he could see, glancing down at his chest. It was visibly deformed, dented but not quite a gash.
Still intact, thank goodness. No breach, but another hit like that would be disastrous. He breathed a sigh of relief, his chest hurting like hell as he did so. He checked his sides and back. Parts of his suit were covered in slime from the egg sac. It didn’t seem as corrosive as the Queen’s acid, but it was still a hazard. Quickly, he swiped at it, removing as much as possible with his gloved hands to prevent further damage.
He forced himself up, grabbing his shotgun from the floor. The Queen was already barreling toward him, the damn monster not letting up. He didn’t have time to make a run for it; he needed to jump to one side or the other, and the timing needed to be perfect. Just as the Queen’s shadow engulfed him, the air turned icy cold, frost creeping up on his visor.
Ice formed from thin air, spearing up from the ground and piercing through the Queen’s legs. The spikes rooted the beast in place. Not one to waste an opportunity, Henry dashed away from the entrance, firing at the immobilized giant spider as he linked up with the others.
“Sera?” Henry asked again.
Sera’s voice came in strained. “Almost…” Then, with a triumphant shout, she announced the word Henry had been desperate to hear. “Done!”
“Owens!” Henry said, risking a glance back.
Ron had already grabbed his Gustaf and was in the process of loading another HEAT round. “On it!”
Henry grinned. It was a relief, to be sure. With Ron free and back in the fight, the odds had just tipped heavily in their favor. The Queen was tough, but it wasn’t invincible; they just needed an opening.
Given the damage the Queen sustained to its body, Henry couldn’t imagine it being in peak fighting condition. Even in its weakened state, though, it still had the capability to dodge Ron’s attack, and it seemed to be saving its web ability for that very inevitability.
“Take out the legs!” Henry ordered.
They combined their fire on the left legs, since Ryan managed to break one of them earlier. He heard a crack that might’ve been the chitin giving way or the leg snapping, but it was hard to tell. He was just about to chalk it up to the prevailing gunfire around them, but then he saw it: a brief stumble. The Queen recovered quickly, but it was clear to Henry that it wouldn’t be able to manage any more damage to its legs.
Then, he noticed a blur in his peripheral vision to his right, moving so fast his eyes could barely keep up. Shit, he was certain he kept track of the Queen’s movements. With the existing damage to his envirosuit, he’d be completely fucked. He braced himself for another impact, but it never came.
As he focused harder on the blur, he caught a glimpse of a flash of light that could only be one thing – Sera’s sword, And, just like a flash of lightning, she had already cleared the vicinity of the Queen. The Queen’s foreleg seemed to simply vanish, severed so cleanly that it took a moment for the beast to realize what had happened. When it did, it let out a screech of pain, its balance faltering as it tried to adapt to the sudden change.
While Henry focused on taking out another leg from the left side, Sera had already shifted to her next target. Their assault was brutal: white phosphorus pellets and hard-hitting 6.8mm on one side, ice magic and skilled swordsmanship on the other. And to think, they managed to inflict all this damage by the time Ron completed his reload.
“Clear the way!” Ron called out, his Gustaf aimed right at the Queen’s head.
Henry jumped back, watching as Kelmithus conjured another set of ice spikes to root the beast again, in case the five obliterated legs weren’t enough to keep it down. The Queen thrashed against the icy bonds, its remaining legs slashing through the air in a frenzied bid for freedom. It spat acid – a tactic that would’ve worked effectively on most other materials, but instead simply got diluted with the melting ice. Even as the acid reacted with the ice, the spikes held firm, anchoring the beast in place like steel cables.
Henry’s heart pounded in his ears. Come on, Owens, he urged silently. Take the shot.
As if on cue, Ron pulled the trigger. The Gustaf bucked in his hands as the HEAT round streaked towards its target. Henry barely had time to brace himself before the explosion hit, the shockwave slamming into him and nearly toppling him over. He staggered back, gazing into the settling dust.
When the smoke cleared, the Queen’s head was obliterated – replaced by a gory mess of shattered chitin and pulverized flesh. Blood sprayed from the gaping hole, covering the ground in a pale blue hue. The creature’s body convulsed, its remaining legs scrabbling weakly at their surroundings.
A surge of triumph washed over Henry, but it was fleeting. From the corner of his eye, he locked on to a glimpse of movement. One of the Queen’s legs continued to spasmodically jerk around and spray the ground with blue ichor. He raised his shotgun in a nonchalant motion and blasted the errant limb, watching as it shuddered and went still.
Sera stepped up, her sword barely catching the light as she jammed it into what was left of the Queen’s thorax. A sharp twist, and it was over. She then yanked the blade from the carcass, her grip shifting subtly along the hilt. As she flicked the sword, frost swiftly coated the ichor clinging to the metal. The frozen debris was flung off, hitting the ground and shattering like glass.
He glanced down at his Holding Bag. Damn, the fight took out most of his shells. Swapping out his shotgun for his M7, he turned to his team and took stock of their condition. It seemed everyone had mostly gone unscathed, only debris and dirt scarring their envirosuits. Well, except for himself and Ron. “Think we’re gonna have to start calling you pinata now,” Henry said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Ron scoffed. “Yeah? Says the runner-up,” he said, tapping the dent on Henry’s envirosuit. “Better ‘pinata’ than ‘roadkill’, though. But seriously, what’s next? Don’t even know where to start.”
The room was empty, save for the debris strewn about and the singular obelisk standing in the center of the room. He didn’t notice it earlier, but as he got closer, he realized that the obelisk emitted a faint light that barely escaped the canopy of webs. He looked it up and down before turning to the others. “Only one place to start. Let’s clear out the webs, see what’s hiding below.”
“Doc, Kel, clear out the eggs. Hayes, Sera, see if the Queen’s got anything useful. Everyone else focus on the webs,” Henry ordered.
Ron drew his knife and started slicing through the dense cobwebs. “Hey, what y’all think the Queen’s Tier is?”
Isaac paused to consider. “Eh, Tier 8, probably. Minotaur boss and Rillifane boss were both Tier 8, so I’d say the spider’s around the same level.”
“Well, the resilience of the specimen isn’t a definitive measure of the Tier,” Dr. Anderson pointed out. “It’s quite possible that we merely had the most suitable tools at hand in this particular encounter.”
“The scholar speaks truly,” Sera agreed. “There is nary a defining criterion; defense is but one of many that are considered by the Guild. Were it so simple, Kelmithus and I would have attained Tier 9 ere now.”
“So, what do you think the Queen is, then? Tier 7 maybe?” Ron asked.
Henry shook his head. Tier 7 didn’t seem accurate. Using his knife to scrape some of the webbing off his glove, he voiced, “Spiranids are weak in general, but are classified as Tier 5 or higher because of their traps, ambush tactics, numbers, and abilities. Archers can use Wind Snipe and mages can use wide-area spellcasting, but they can’t reliably penetrate the exoskeleton’s armor. If anything, this is probably on the lower end of Tier 9.”
“Tier 9, huh?” Isaac muttered.
Sera smiled as she stood back. She stuffed a frost-covered gland into her holding bag and paused from her work as she chimed in, “Hmm… how keen. I expected nothing less from the first Tier 6 entrants in Eldralore’s history! It shows plain why the Guild did so swiftly raise you.”
“Hah,” Henry chuckled. It was an amusing thought, but… “Say, ya think we can get to Tier 7 after this?”
Sera’s eyebrows shot up. “Tier 7? A mark of no slight merit. What have you achieved since attaining Tier 6?”
Henry reached to scratch his chin, then cursed softly as his glove thudded against his visor. “Well, we took down a Rillifane pack, a Sentinel Lindwyrm, and now this primal Spiranid Queen. That’s not too shabby, eh?”
“Firm victories,” Sera admitted, “but advancement weighs more than battle alone. The Guild also considers quest difficulty, knowledge gained therefrom, and impact – in other words, glory.”
“The Baranthurian Ruins,” Dr. Anderson blurted, taking the words out of Henry’s mouth. He turned to Kelmithus, who approached them after confirming that the eggs had been cleared out. “Surely, working with the Sanctum Arcanum must be quite the honour. The Guild holds their quests with high esteem, wouldn’t you say?”
Kelmithus nodded, burning a clump of disposed webs on the ground. “True as that may be, advancement oft hinges upon the cumulative experience of dozens of quests.”
“Well, ain’t no small feats for us lately,” Ryan remarked. “The quest to the Baranthurian ruins, what was it, Tier 8? Yeah, that was Tier 8. Sentinel Lindwyrm? Hell, Tier Nine. That there beast?” Ryan pointed his gun at the carcass of the Spiranid Queen. “Tier 9 as well.”
Ron interjected, “Plus we’ve been helping out along the way, like those villagers, and taking on quests others won’t touch. Honestly, the Hardale quest should be pretty weighty too, considering the Nobian shenanigans.”
Sera hummed, mulling over Alpha Team’s experiences. The fact that most of their quests at Tier 6 had essentially been Tier 7 quests or higher in difficulty was probably unheard of in the Guild. Not only that, but they’d been able to complete these difficult quests successfully. Hell, with flying colors, even. That had to count for something.
Henry looked over at Sera, stepping back as he allowed Kelmithus to dispose of the webs that he had cleared out. “So, whaddya think? Based on what we’ve done, you think we got a shot at Tier 7?”
Sera looked up at the ceiling as she weighed her response. “Ehh, you’ve a strong case. Alas, it’s Taldren’s call to make. His favor seems yours, though; I wager he’ll agree.”
Henry grinned. Moving up meant they could have access to more quests. Naturally, that also meant better rewards and in turn, access to some truly magical equipment. “Good to hear. Guess we’ll see to it once we get back to Eldralore. Now, we should probably –”
A soft glow of light gradually lit up the room, interrupting Henry mid-sentence. He squinted, readying his weapon. The light came from the walls and ceiling, illuminating the once-dark chamber. The obelisk, now free of webs, now hummed… healthily? It wasn’t like he had a manual to tell him if this was a good or bad development, but judging from the facility’s reaction, it must’ve worked.
Henry glanced at his HUD. The temperature readings were rising, too. The icy chill from Kelmithus’ magic rapidly dissipated as the environmental controls kicked in. “Well, looks like we’ve done all we can here. Let’s head back to the containment cell room and see if we can find anything else of interest.”
– – –
Outskirts of GB-2, Grenden Forest
Carvus Alnect Virelius narrowed his gaze toward the brightening sky, his eyes cutting through the retreating mist that had long veiled the forest’s canopy. This unprecedented clarity above the ruins was strange. After centuries cloaked in an impenetrable fog, why did the skies clear now?
The Umber Vicearch’s mind worked like a whetstone, sharpening the fragments of reports from his scouts, cryptic as they were. The recent skirmish, occurring concurrently with the lifting fog, could not be mere happenstance. Regardless of the answer, the unexpected fold presented a welcome complexity to test his mettle.
He set his thoughts aside as the sound of footsteps approached.
“Leuarch Eldreyn reporting, milord,” one of his men said. “We’ve word from Serarch Trelian.”
Carvus gave him a nod to continue.
Eldreyn relayed the news. “The scouts espy traces of battle: a fallen Sentinel Lindwyrm and two carriages left abandoned near the cave’s entrance. The land bears scars from some form of magic, strewn with strange metal tubes and other objects unknown to us. Save for the Lindwyrm, no other bodies are to be found. What are your commands, milord?”
Carvus took a deep breath. No other bodies? Two carriages? That such a formidable creature was felled with no apparent casualties among their ranks suggested a small but extraordinarily capable force. Each member was no doubt Tier 7 at the least. The limited number of carriages implied a party not larger than ten. But… what could the metal objects mean?
Powerful though they might be, could such a small group withstand his numbers? Carvus entertained the thought briefly. No, direct confrontation would be unwise. The site bore secrets too vital to squander on rash gambles. Better to maneuver them into a position where the only viable option would be to comply with his demands.
“Hold our position, Lornus,” Carvus commanded. While he preferred the safety of their hidden vantage in the forest, the intrigue of Trelian’s findings – the slain Lindwyrm – was too compelling to ignore. “The contents of Trelian’s report compel our own investigation. Lead us, that we might see for ourselves.”
“As you command, milord.”
It was a short walk to the clearing. As they reached the treeline, Carvus held up a hand, signaling his men to halt – they should go no further than the cover of the forest. The aftermath of the battle lay evident before them. The massive form of the Sentinel Lindwyrm sprawled near the far side of the clearing, its outline murky at a distance.
Carvus squinted, adjusting his position slightly for a better view. He felt his jaw drop, a lapse in composure that surprised even him. Yet, who could fault him? The beast lay nearly torn asunder, its massive body riddled with gaping, jagged wounds that no sword or arrow could inflict. Indeed, not even traditional siege weapons or combat spells could inflict such damage.
The destructive capability of fyric powder was well-known to him – he had seen its use in adamantite mines. The wounds on the Lindwyrm, however, spoke of a force of another Tier entirely. Where fyric powder might clear a path through a stubborn boulder, the agent used against the Sentinel Lindwyrm seemed capable of obliterating several boulders at once, perhaps even an entire cliffside.
Turning his attention from the ravaged beast, he scanned the battlefield. Among the chaos, his eyes caught the glint of metal – strange tubes scattered about, all some lighter shade of bronze. The craters were blackened and littered with debris: shards of metal mixed with wires. This was clearly no ordinary skirmish.
He moved closer to the tree line, cautiously examining the unfamiliar objects. The metal tubes bore no resemblance to any weapons known to Nobian forces. However, their presence here implied that somehow, these objects were related to the catastrophic wounds on the Lindwyrm.
Near the cave’s entrance, two metal carriages lay abandoned. Their exteriors were marred by dirt and marked with an array of dents that appeared to be from the Lindwyrm’s armored tail. The carriages, in style and make, aligned with reports of American machines observed by their Umbercari in distant Eldralore. Mounted atop each was a long cylinder. As foreign as they were, he could tell they were weapons – ones capable of unleashing formidable destruction.
Adventurers throughout the ages had ventured here, all repelled by the formidable Lindwyrm that long guarded these grounds. Had it been folly to devote their resources to the conquest of their neighbors, rather than to mastering and exploiting this site? Such questions surpassed his station, yet irrespective of the answers, the Emperor would surely take no pleasure in learning that he had allowed Americans to plunder the Gatebuilder’s secrets.
Carvus turned to Lornus. “Bid our scouts to investigate the cave.” As Leuarch Eldreyn departed to carry out the orders, he beckoned to one of his serarchs. “Bring me one of those metal tubes. I wish to examine it.”
He sat on a rock, watching the light bend around the man’s form until he vanished from sight. The serarch then adjusted the temperature around his body, matching it to that of the forest. Were it not for the subtle shifts in the man’s mana as he held the spells, Carvus would have surely lost track of him.
The serarch made his way forth, passing through the trees and into the clearing beyond. With haste, he seized upon one of the tubes that lay scattered about, and then, as quick as he had come, he turned and made his way back to the forest’s edge. When at last he returned, Carvus stood up and held out his hand.
The tube, lighter than its solidity might have portended, was chill to the touch and was marked by a patina that showed clear signs of bending. He tried to bend it with his fingers, but the metal resisted. Even when he used magic to strengthen himself, it yielded naught but scant impression. What could have possibly moved the metal?
Looking closely, he noticed that the metal wasn’t bronze, as he had first thought. Though bearing a hue akin to bronze, it was of a kind unfamiliar to him. The surface was engraved with American script – characters and sequences that held little meaning to him. Yet, to deem the letters ‘engraved’ would be to err; it was as if they were imprinted with a craftsmanship nary a smith could rival.
He turned it over in his hands, his eyes drawn to a circular groove near the base. Examining both ends, Carvus noted the open end was distorted as if a great force had expelled something from within – an insight into his previous question. The other end was sealed, marked by a small, precise indentation. He held it up, aligning it with a similarly sized hole in a nearby tree.
This was no common weapon. As a trebuchet releases its load, so too must this tube have hurled its own projectile. It gave him an idea. What if one were to use an adamantite tube with fyric powder, place a keen arrowhead atop, and ignite the mixture below? Would it rival a standard Wind Snipe combined with physical enhancement magic?
Carvus’ thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out to him. “Milord.”
“Hm?” He looked up, finding the face of Leuarch Franus. “What is it, Martano?”
He hesitated, as if second-guessing his words. “The… The Lindwyrm… The men grow restless, milord. They wish to claim the spoils of this battle – the Sentinel Lindwyrm’s materials are prized in many a lore. And these carriages, would it not profit us to salvage what we can? They may hold more secrets – or riches.”
He turned the leuarch’s words over in his mind as he would a well-worn coin. In truth, the idea held merit. Even the smallest measure of a Lindwyrm’s blood was a treasure beyond compare – to say nothing of the other materials, sought after by alchemists and smiths alike. That the Americans had forgone harvest was a curious thing indeed. Could it be that they were ignorant of the creature’s true worth? Or perhaps, had they found something more valuable?
And then there were the carriages, gleaming in the sun like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. If they could but glean some understanding of how the Americans had so deftly slain a beast of the Lindwyrm’s standing, it would surely prove a boon to the Empire’s own martial pursuits. Perhaps, armed with such knowledge, they might at last gain the upper hand against the accursed Sonarans.
Carvus cast his gaze once more upon the clearing, then turned to face Martano. “Aye,” he said. “Let it be so.”
Yet, as he made to step forth, a low, droning sound beckoned his attention – a buzzing hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The unfamiliar noise compelled him to halt. He raised his hand, stopping his men as he searched for the noise. He tilted his head skyward, squinting as he beheld a strange sight: a winged thing hanging in the air above the clearing, like an animal circling its prey. As the sunlight reflected off its surface, it became evident to him that this was no creature of flesh, but a machine – much like the metal carriages.
“Hold,” Carvus ordered. “We dare not venture forth.”
Martano stepped forward, doubt and confusion etched across his face. “But, milord, if we shroud ourselves in invisibility, surely they cannot see us.”
Carvus shook his head. “Nay; recall the umbercari we sent to infiltrate the Duke’s mansion. They, too, thought themselves hidden, yet were somehow discovered. We know not what sorcery that flying machine might possess, and we cannot risk exposing ourselves.”
Before Martano could respond or venture any further protest, the scouts returned, led by Serarch Trelian. The search bowed his head before providing his report, “Milord, the cave lies empty, and the Lindwyrm’s nest remains untouched. We discovered footprints leading to a great sealed door, which we believe to be the entrance to the ruins.”
Carvus nodded. The Americans had ventured forth and left the loot behind for a reason. He thought back to a fortress that the Empire once sacrificed to encircle the forces of the now-conquered Kingdom of Durenelle. “So be it. Let us abandon these lesser spoils. As our adversaries have forgone these spoils in pursuit of greater gains, so must we sacrifice Straltus.”
Next

I am a failure, I have this immense feeling of guilt, and I feel absolutely gutted to the core.
When I was pregnant I had GD so I got more growth ultrasounds and my LO was always in the >99th percentile for head size. I didn't really think anything of it as large heads run in my family. My grandpa, uncle, aunt, 3 boy cousins, and my sister were all born with large heads.
My LO has been progressing really well. He was born strong - could already support his neck, and has been growing like a weed and packing on the pounds. He can now lift his head during tummy time and support himself for minutes at a time - which is ahead of schedule. He moves constantly, really only sits still to eat. He's 8.5weeks.
Anyways I was taking pictures a few days ago of my LO doing tummy time on my husband's chest. As I was looking back at the pictures I couldn't help but notice how his head shape had changed in such a short amount of time. He always had a prominent brow but now it was like The Brain from pinky and the brain, round shaped with a very prominent brow.
So I googled this, assuming it was just a phase all babies go through and I was wondering when they start to grow out of it. What I came across was something called frontal bossing. My babies forehead looks text book to the picture. I started looking into causes and see Vitamin D deficiency - Rickets and my heart sank. I'm sitting here absolutely shattered, I completely forgot about these Vitamin D supplements. I have been neglecting these for 2 whole months. He maybe got 3 bottles in the first week and then nothing. I live in the Midwest, we have not been outside a whole lot and when we do he is pretty well shaded for walks.
I started looking at his body and his arms and legs looked bowed. I can't unsee the protruding forehead which cannot be cured, its there forever - the damage is done. I am sitting just sobbing writing this right now at the idea I caused this deformity on him. It makes me absolutely sick to my stomach at how ignorant and just stupid I have been to forget these, something so simple. It's one thing to make a mistake and mess up your own life, but to have actively caused this in my LO is something I can never forgive myself for. I am terrified to tell my husband about this. Terrified for his 2 month apt in a few days I don't even want anyone's sympathy, it is so undeserving.
I obviously started the drops and we have been sitting outside a bit each morning, but the damage I caused will always be staring me back for as long as I live, and I don't know how I can ever live with myself. We tried for 7 years to have a child, and now I wish it had never happened, I hate myself. I would give anything under the sun to go back in time.

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Caution swearing!
Also, god I love you Conn… please never change!
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Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
"Both of you get your suits back on."
"What the hell is going on!?”
Richards demanded, Adam took a deep breath,
"Captain Richards that was not an opening for a discussion, that was an order. Now put the damn suit on, or I swear I will knock you out and do it myself!”
The three of them were floating in the module staring at each other, hands resting against what must have been no more than a few millimeters of aluminum.
He stared at them, and they stared back.
Adam did not break eye contact with the two, willing them to do as they were told. Chavez was the first to move, hurrying over to her space suit and struggling to pull it on in a near panic as bright lights flashed from outside. Inside his heart was pounding but he tried to remain calm for the two standing before him.
He hurried over to help Chavez pull on her gear, finally sealing the helmet in place as Richards finally moved to do the same.
Adam helped pull the hard torso over the man's head and link it to the waist before helping him pull on his gloves and, eventually the helmet. Before he let go, he kept hold of Richards by either side of the helmet staring at him through the glass,
"I promise, if you listen to me, I will keep you safe."
He kept eye contact with the other man until Richards finally nodded, and Adam let him go to float over and put on his own suit. His hands were steady, for now, but he knew as soon as the crisis was over he'd be shaking like a leaf.
If he survived…
He gritted his teeth, cursing himself for thinking like that.
He was Admiral Vir for crying out loud. He had survived far too much to go and die now.
He returned to the helm of the command module as he looked out the thick window at the lights flashing on either side of them. Despite the war that was raging around them, everything seemed so strangely quiet. There was no sound no rumbling, not even a vibration as one of the jets flew past. Despite being at the controls of the vehicle, there was nothing he could do. They only had a certain amount of fuel to get them to the lunar surface, and if he wasted any of it at all, they would be either caught in orbit, or miss the moon entirely.
He had to keep his cool.
Another bright burst of light lit the window to his right. This one was closer this time.
His heart leaped up into his throat.
Richards and Chaves joined him buckling into their seats.
"What is going on?”
Richards demanded again, his mike distant and tinny with the sound of very old technology.
"I believe Anti-Alliance forces are attempting to assassinate me. They have been trying for months now, and I think they are being encouraged by very powerful members of the government."
They watched as another set of ships zoomed past.
He saw a flash of a silhouette, just enough to know that one of them was a Thunderhawk and the other was a silver Rundi drone.
It confirmed his worst fears. The Chairwoman had been behind this the whole time!
[…]
Red nearly collided with the rocket. The Thunderhawk had pulled up the last minute, but he had almost been too late. He jerked the stick to the side, throwing up his wing just in time to avoid hitting the rocket as it made its slow way through space. He dove down on the other side forced to break off pursuit and cut in front of another Thunderhawk coming in from above. He made to look like he was going to ram them, playing a dangerous game of chicken, which he won at the last second as the other pilot panicked and cut to the left.
There were too many of them. Only five out of the original twenty had been destroyed, and he and the rest of their pilots were busy just keeping the thunder hawks away from the rocket, much less to have any time of firing at them. He had sent one of his people down to earth and one of them off towards the moon for backup. The moon was still hours away yet, so the hope that some help would be sent from them was unlikely, and even the woman he had sent down to earth's surface was cutting it close.
He didn't have much hopes that they would be able to hold out that long.
Inside the cockpit his warning lights began to blink and blair as one of the other jets got a lock on him. He rolled right to avoid them and dove down, cutting off the lock but still being pursued by those behind him. Up ahead he saw one of the silver balls erupt into flames as it was targeted by an expert hit from one of the Thunderhawk pilots.
He rolled right.
Someone else rolled left. He cut up just in time to avoid being hit and raced forward to cut off another Thunderbird that was heading directly towards the rocket.
[…]
Eris hurried down the hallway, her knees screaming as she did her very best to sprint, but despite her human anatomy, she was a little too much like a starborn.
With a cry of frustration she reached up and tore off her hoodie, throwing it to the ground and engaging her anti-gravity belt. The ribbons on her back billowed out behind her.
Light spilled in from the windows on either side of the catwalk she was now on, filling her with a buzzing energy that she could feel radiating through the ribbons like electricity. She knew from her study of starborn that they could travel at thousands of miles an hour in the vacuum of space, especially when under the power of a star. She didn't think she needed to go THAT fast, but anything would be better than what she was doing now.
As if in response to her will, she suddenly began to glide forward, picking up speed as she swooped towards the end of the hall, wind catching her in the face and roaring along her cheeks. With her starborn skin, she barely felt a thing as she raced around the corner and out of the waiting door. Two men dressed in military ACUs dived to the side as she blew past them crying out in alarm and confusion as the "Alien" floated by.
Somewhere distantly, she could sense Conn racing in the opposite direction towards the base.
Sunny and Admiral Kelly had Admiral Massie in their custody and were dragging him out into the hallway.
She blew across the open ground her ribbons snapping and billowing behind her as she did. She didn't even have time to imagine what she looked like as she roared over the open field and towards the waiting news vans which were just beginning to pack up their things. They were close to leaving, but she set out a sharp hard telepathic pulse ordering them to stop.
Compelling them to stop.
They froze in their tracks and looked up to see her coming.
Someone scrambled to turn on their camera, not sure what was going on but sure it had to be something good.
She tried not to think about what they would see as the camera flared to life following her approach.
"Make us live."
She ordered,
The news people glanced between each other in confusion,
"But no… we aren’t-"
"What are-"
She came to a sudden jolting stop before them, her billowing black hair fanning out behind her like a curling halo.
"I said, put us on air."
This time the telepathic pulse was too strong to resist. Mostly that, paired with the fact that none of them were sure they really wanted to resist. She was way too interesting to pass up.
They hurried to do what they were doing, and Eris was given just enough time to feel nervous before the camera was turned to her.
They were live.
She read it in the minds of those behind camera who she cut off as she began to speak,
"Citizens of Earth, there has been a horrible conspiracy against you. The UN president has ordered the assassination of Admiral Adam Vir and has continually attempted to sabotage the mission. Just now General Massie was taken into custody after ordering the deployment of twenty Thunderhawk’s to harass the rocket and make its destruction look like some sort of collision with space debris."
The group gawked at her as she raised her hand with the small silver device and began playing the recording.
She knew something like this would never be admissible in court. She was pretty sure it would be considered entrapment of some kind, which is why it must be heard now, before everyone, so that the actions of the president could be judged by a jury of the world where it could not be hidden by political machinations.
"Communications have been lost with Apollo 11. And it is... Well... It is likely that he is already dead..."
Her voice broke,
"No matter what happens, I need you, and this nation to understand what is happening before it gets swept under the rug. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and experienced their meeting in the thoughts of a man who is both xenophobic and hateful to his own humankind."
She kept talking trying to give them all the information she could, spilling thoughts she had heard in the head of the UN president and General Massie alike. Every meeting, every liaison, every name until her voice was beginning to crack.
[…]
The UN president was just standing to enter her vehicle when a slow muttering began in the crowd behind her. She turned as the ground before her went silent.
She watched as a wave ran through the people. A wave of nudging and whispering and showing off news feeds they had pulled up on their wrist implants. It wasn't long before the entire crowd was either staring down at their arms or clustered around someone else for viewing.
"What is going on?”
She wondered, turning to one of her men who was staring down at her own wrist.
"Madame president?"
He said with a look of confusion.
She could hear it now.
"Her and General Massie have ordered members of the UNSC to adjust funds in order to hide the twenty Thunderhawk’s they were squirting away for just such an event."
She hurried forward, grabbing the secret serviceman by the arm, staring at it as she watched the streaming newsfeed and the freaky white alien with the large dark eyes and flowing black hair.
"She is afraid of aliens, she wishes to isolate and eventually use humanity's superior forces to overtake trade in the galaxy, forceful if need be."
The muttering behind her had turned into an angry grumbling, and she turned to see the eyes of hundreds that turned towards her.
"Get me out of here."
She hissed. the Secret Serviceman took a step back with a look of confusion and indecision on his face.
"It's your job."
She snarled, but he just stared at her.
She hurriedly ran over to her car as the crowd began to filter in around them pressing close. A few of the secret service men pulled guns, but a large majority of them were frozen with indecision and were taken over by the crowd. She scrambled into the back seat of her vehicle and slammed the door shut screaming at the driver to get moving.
The crowd was surrounding them now, pounding at the glass.
She could hear their angry voices raised for her to be heard behind bullet proof glass.
Outside, she watched a lone figure step onto the platform where the lectern was and stare at her with its beady black eyes. The Chairwoman of the GA stood over the crowd like it's filthy alien lord.
And even though Rundi could not smile, she could swear it was smiling.
[…]
Baby K hit a rough patch of turbulence coming down from the atmosphere. She struggled with the controls as she was thrown left and right inside the cockpit of her rickety shuttle.
Donovan Red had ordered her down here to grab the UNSC, but she was so scared and full of adrenaline that she had dropped it at too steep an angle. The ride was much bumpier than it was supposed to be, and her teeth were rattling inside her head.
Just then two Jets suddenly cut in behind her out of nowhere, and she heard her console beep and warn her about a lock on, making it clear that she was just one click of a trigger away from imminent doom.
"This is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have crossed into restricted UNSC airspace, identify yourself or be destroyed! You have ten seconds to comply, over."
She scrambled for her communications, but her fingers felt as stiff as wood as she scrambled for the button.
"I repeat, this is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have entered restricted UNSC airspace, you are ordered to identify yourself or be destroyed. Five seconds remaining. Over."
She slammed her first into the comms button nearly panicking,
"UNSC!"
Her voice was rattling,
"This is B-baby K, and I... The Apollo 11 is under attack!"
She was breathless as she forced the words out.
There was silence over the coms,
"Say again? Uhm I mean please repeat over.”
"Apollo 11 is under attack!"
”…”
”…”
More silence,
”Roger that. Please stand by. Over."
The lock lifted and the two jets pulled up to the side of her, staying close now.
She recognized those jets as two F-90 Darkfires.
They stayed by her side for a moment, and as close as they were she could see one of the pilots fidgeting with the coms, talking and wildly gesticulating, while his copilot was beginning to wildly flip switches.
Meanwhile, a second voice came in over the coms.
"On your left! Eagle Dispatch Two here, unidentified vessel, please land on UNSC base airstrip one. Just contact the control tower once you get close for guidance and instruction."
Baby K looked over into the other jet, just to see the pilot adjusting his helmet and clicking an oxygen tube to the front of his helmet. His co-pilot had already put the additional oxygen mask on and was also flipping switches.
”Uhm aren’t you going to escort me?”
Baby K managed to blurt out in confusion,
”Godspeed Baby K, Eagle Dispatch Two over and out.”
Both men in the jet to her left had apparently finished their preparations and gave her a quick salute.
Then suddenly, both jets adjusted their angle and cut engines, before switching to their big fusion engines, rocketing them up and out of sight within seconds.
[…]
So far it had been a relatively quiet day at the Ellington Field Joint Reserve Base. Most of the air traffic had been canceled due to the launch of the Apollo mission, so there was not much to do, leaving much of the Airport less staffed than normal.
In the Air Traffic Control tower of the base, only two men were working. Though “working” was stretching it, considering Senior Controller M. Fredrick was currently in the middle of his book (though he was at least in front of his station) and his comrade Senior ATC Instructor A. Millard was currently sitting in a corner, watching a movie on his implant.
”So what are you watching? One of those old Star Wars movies?”
”You bet! Those are the best! By the way any info on that “lost civilian” who got into our airspace?”
”No not yet, though I sent Eagle Dispatch and told them to be extra unfriendly, that will scare these civilians off for sure!”
”Pffft, why couldn’t they watch the start like any other person? There is always some dumb rich kid doing dumb stuff with daddies private shuttle… I don’t understand why we always let them off with a warning…”
The console started beeping,
”Oh look that’s them now!”
”Put ‘em on speakers!”
”Will do!”
…
”ATC this is Eagle, come the FUCK in!”
Fredrick rolled his eyes,
”Ahem… This is Elling Field ATC, calling Eagle Dispatch One. We hear you, over.”
”ATC what the FUCK took you so long!?”
”Ellington Field ATC, to Eagle Dispatch one, firstly: language, secondly: please follow standard radio rules, over.”
”THE APOLLO IS UNDER ATACK BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS!”
”Ellingt-WHAAAAT!? Repeat please! Over!”
”THE APOLLO IS BEEING ATACKED BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS! REQUETING IMMEDIATE ASSIST!”
Fredrick just stared at Millard dumbfounded. As the senior officer Millard was quick to collect himself and jumped up and towards his console.
”What are you waiting for Fredrick! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE GARRISON!”
Fredrick ignored all protocol and just flipped the switch to connect his comms to every recipient available.
”ATC to all personnel and everyone who can hear me, the Apollo is under attack, I repeat, the apollo is under attack. I want all available planes that can reach the outer atmosphere ready ASAP! Get the darkfires on the runway I want them in the air yesterday!”
[…]
Conn raced towards the airstrip, feeling the wind in the ribbons at his back. He couldn't go nearly as fast as he wanted to with air resistance.
Why the hell did Adam always have to get into so much trouble, why did he always have to be the center of attention!?
Everyone either hated him or loved him, but the problem was people who hated him also wanted to kill him.
Why did he have to be so controversial!?
Why did he have to be hated for something that was such a big deal. Why couldn't he be hated for having controversial political opinions. Conn paused…
On second thought, controversial political opinions were kind of what had gotten them here in the first place, so he guessed that was kind of a useless comparison. How about being the kind of guy who liked to talk too much about fishing. That was a great way to make people hate you for being boring, but it didn't usually mean that people wanted to kill you.
Maybe they could get the man a hobby doing something that wasn't so controversial…
Like…
Kicking small Animals or…
Cannibalism.
He came roaring to the stop at the edge of the airfield just in time to watch an entire platoon of pilots racing towards jets. He could hear their minds and looked up to see a rather dinky shuttle descending from the sky. He floated forward towards one of the jets as two pilots leaped inside.
He was going to need a ride.
The pilots turned to look at him, but Conn just shook his head.
The pilots decided to ignore him in the confusion and Conn grabbed on tight.
Starborn, he had come to learn, were a very interesting species in comparison to others. Vertically, as in from the top down he was very fragile and likely to break his neck or collapse his spine if there was any kind of pressure, but with horizontal forces, he was practically indestructible. Below him the ship roared to life and soon they were gathering speed along the runway.
His grip was tight, and he used the extra energy from his ribbons to speed himself up along with the jet to reduce the pull on his arms.
His grip wasn't that strong.
They went vertical almost immediately, and he made sure to orient his body in the correct direction as they went hurtling into the sky.
[…]
Red's right wing had been hit. If there had been atmosphere around him he would have been a goner, but there was no air resistance here, so once he regained control of his roll, he pulled back into position and fired one last shot as the opportunity arose. The sixth Thunderhawk was destroyed in an eruption of debris, which he dodged only with difficulty, limping without the aid of the maneuvering jet on the end of his one wing. Things were only speeding up now, the Rundi were almost gone and the pressure was being laid thick on his people. They were hard to hit but the pursuit made it almost impossible for them to do any real maneuvering of their own. He was almost hit again as another Thunderhawk sped underneath him. They rolled this way and that rocking from one side to the other. Flying through debris and over strips of silver metal.
Below them the earth hung as a glowing orb.
Red cut in a wide circle coming in with the sun at his back, using it to blind one of the enemy Thunderhawk’s as he came in. He watched the group of them form up suddenly as a ring around the slow moving rocket, intending quite certainly to rush it all at once. He screamed into the comm trying to order his men around, but it was going to be too late, he could already see it coming.
The jets rushed forward, and he did too, screaming inside his helmet as they went to broadside Apollo 11.
And then with all the silence of space, sixteen F-90 Dark Fires came spitting overhead all at once, raining down a line of ordinance that cut through the group of unsuspecting Thunderhawk’s.
Space around them was filled with a myriad of silent explosions as each and every one of them was ripped to shreds.
All except one…
He saw it at the last moment.
It had been hit in the tail and had gone wildly off course.
It turned sideways, but had just enough force... For its wing to tear straight through the aluminum siding of the rocket.
FUCK!
[…]
Chavez and Richards had been ordered to strap into their seats.
Adam had taken it upon himself to lock down the rest of the main cabin. Outside the flashing lights were like a fireworks display without sound. He grabbed onto one of the rails, forcing equipment back into place, so that if anything happened it wouldn't fly out.
His legs were kicked up behind him as he floated forward reaching for some of the controls as a sudden bright wash of light filtered in through the windows. He heard a scream over his com, and then the air around him was rent with a horrific tearing noise, which suddenly went silent. There was a rush, and he jerked forward as he was sucked back... And out of the ship entirely.
His hands and legs kicked and flailed as he tried to right himself, hearing his own breathing as the only sound as he watched the rocket begin to spin, debris erupting around him as air, and whatever wasn't strapped down was sucked through the small opening.
The rocket was spinning wildly but still on course, while he was spinning wildly in a silent abyss.
Grunting against the force of his spin, he reached down for the controls to the CO2 canister built into the pack of his spacesuit.
He groaned, not sure which way was up or down or back. He tried to right himself against the spin by firing in the opposite direction to slow his spin.
He could see the rocket now spinning in the opposite direction with the sudden loss of oxygen. He hoped the other astronauts were ok. He saw the silhouette of a jet fly past in the distance making its way towards the spinning rocket.
At least there was someone here to help.
Maybe the others would survive-
And then he just… stopped, coming to a confusing halt in the middle of space.
That shouldn't have been right!
He should have kept going forever!
He tried turning his head, but he felt like the pillsbury doughboy in this two thousand year old suit.
What was happening?
"Did you miss me Baby?”
Well shit, now he sort of wished he could keep spinning.
There was a tugging on the outside of his suit, and Conn floated into view in front of his helmet.
"Hey sweetheart."
"You are probably the last person I wanted to see."
He said, though he didn't entirely mean it, and unfortunately Conn knew that too, the mindreading asshole that he was.
”I could hardly let the father of my child go spinning off into space without taking accountability for his family. After al child support is paying way more than widows pension."
"Shove it up your ass Conn."
"No really, not even the vacuum of space is going to save you from your responsibilities. Now, about custody, I was thinking you could have every other weekend and a couple of major holidays…”
He gave a rueful sort of smile as Conn grabbed him by the life support pack and started floating them towards the rocket.
The F-90s had somehow managed to slow the spin of the rocket, and pull it back on course with grappling magnets.
All around them space was filled with debris. No more working Thunderhawk’s were present and those that were were quickly being grappled. One sleek racing jet slowly cruised past them. One of its wings was damaged, but whoever was inside waved with one hand as he rolled past.
Adam lifted a hand as Conn brought him the last few hundred feet to the torn opening in the side of the ship, allowing him to step through.
Conn patted him on the side of the helmet,
"Make sure to be home by dinnertime sweetie."
Before blowing him a kiss and vanishing back out the hole.
Adam floated there, a bit nonplussed for a moment before turning back to the front of the ship where Chaves and Richards were still strapped into their seats staring at him and after Conn. He floated over to strap himself in.
"Admiral! You're ok!”
"Yes, it seems that I am, thanks to a... Friend of mine."
Just then Conn appeared again just before their right side window, and like the classy gentlemen that he was began rubbing his butt up against the glass.
He sighed,
"Friend is kind of stretching it."
"Apollo 11 this is Houston, do you copy!"
The man on the other end of the line sounded close to tears, and Adam hurried to respond,
"Houston this is Apollo 11."
On the other side he thought he heard the sound of voices cheering in relief.
"What is your status, over?”
"We are a bit beat up Houston, we have a tear in our hull, but our suits are ok, and we have help."
"Prepare to abort mission."
Adam frowned,
"Now wait a second there Houston! I didn't get sucked out the side of my own rocket to just quit now. Tell the boys to come up here and patch us up and we can finish the mission. All systems are still functioning, and we are back on course."
He glanced over at the others,
”That is, if the crew wants to continue."
There was a pause and then Chavez timidly piped in,
"I'd be ok with that."
Richards sighed,
"Roger Houston, patch us up."
Granted it may have been cheating. Apollo 11 hadn't had support with special tools that could just patch up a spaceship within ten minutes, but then again the original Apollo 11 hadn't been in the middle of a firefight while on their journey to the moon.
So it was with some trepidation that Houston allowed it, and before long they had air back inside the cabin back up to pressure, but they also had a sixteen-man rotating escort for the rest of the way.
The group of them were even shocked to see Rundi drones join the formation, only to learn that it had been the UN president who had allegedly called the hit on him. It was hard to believe, but they were only getting snippets here and then from over radio and from Conn, who floated around occasionally to rub another part of his anatomy against the window and give them teasing updates.
The moon was growing slowly in their vision.
"Hehe, I can see my house from here."
Adam remarked as they prepared to detach the lunar module from the rest of the ship.
They landed without incident, observed by mobile camera crews and news reporters as he made his own footprint on the never changing dust of the moon's surface. He gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was fine and hesitated only once before setting up the UN flag in the dirt. He refused to let his enthusiasm be dampened by the day's events and hopped around dancing and leaping for joy as another one of his childhood dreams was fulfilled.
…
That was before he plowed face first into the moon's surface and required help from Richards to stand back up again.
They left soon after taking another three days of escort back to earth before strapping themselves in for final entry.
Conn left them just as they were entering orbit with a very big and very drawn out middle finger for all three of them.
"Your friend is super delightful isn't he?”
"You don’t know the half of it, try having a child with him."
Adam muttered, refusing to elaborate even as they stared at him in confusion.
They fell from the sky and landed somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, picked up by the waiting navy vessel who was within nine miles of their landing site. They were fished from the water and returned safe and sound to the ship to cheers and cameras. Adam's legs felt a little like jelly after days of not using them, and he was finally able to relax lying on the deck of the ship under the sun as people ran around them on either side.
His hands shook slowly building up after the stress of the last week. He took long deep breaths and closed his eyes.
The next few days were going to be a real shit show.
And somehow it wasn’t because he was now known as the man who faceplanted not one, but TWO interstellar bodies…
The media was way to busy with the other story, a massive net of deceit and corruption that would now be uncovered.
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Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

I have sensitive eyes and have been trying out different under eye creams, but haven’t found ol reliable yet. I am also about to start tret for the first time but I know it around the eyes is no bueno. Can you share your holy grail under eye creams?? I have issues with dry skin and lines, I have huge eyelids and can get dark circles. Thanks all!

Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
First ¦ Previous ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
Christie emerged from the bathroom once her nerves had calmed and found one of the chateau’s windows that looked out on the western ridgelines. She reached into her handbag and produced a stick of lipstick, sighted on a curve of blackness intersecting a particular constellation rising into the night sky, and pushed a discreet button on the base. The task force now had confirmation that Rayker was inside the chateau and the machine would be set in motion.
As she turned to head back to the party, Christie saw a different range of mountains in the corner of her eye. A fishhook stabbed into the muscle of her heart and tugged, while she was nearly overwhelmed with nausea. For a moment, a dusty valley surrounded her, the rocky ground coursing with streams of blood. The ghostly white face of Rose Djallen was before her, life fading from her eyes. Christie wanted to gasp, but she let the pain wash over her in silence, as they had all done so often. A moment’s concentration brought her back to the present, and the dangerous operation ahead.
Rayker’s expression had been so devoid of warmth—as though she wore her psychotic nature with pride. Christie couldn’t understand how someone could be so inhuman. She wondered what would happen if Rayker sensed the trap that was closing around her. Christie knew that she, and probably some of the guests, would be taken hostage. No doubt the dozens of Rangers stalking through the darkness would break cover, racing through the night to rescue her, with one particularly hard-headed individual out front. The highly skilled operators now preparing their own move on the chateau would fight their way inside, killing anyone who resisted them. The Banshee, their well-armed gunship, would break its cloak, leaving its position behind Ambrosia’s second moon to rain hellfire down on the small army that provided security for the Helvetic League’s pleasure planet. Rayker would probably die in a hail of gunfire—giving Rose her deserved retribution—for the Valkyrie would eagerly sacrifice their own lives before leaving one of their own behind.
Then the news of the incident would spread, and humanity’s thirty-seven worlds would talk of nothing else but the secret army of super soldiers that protected them from the arsenal of the Jotnar—an ancient and extinct civilization, who’s abandoned weapons and warships littered the stars. Nations, corporations and crime syndicates would find ways to track down those weapons, exploiting their incredible destructive power for their own selfish purposes. There would be war, billions would die, and, like those who had preceded them, humanity would probably wipe itself out.
Rose had died protecting Christie from Rayker’s drone army, but she had also died to uphold Valkyrie’s ancient responsibility.
That operation had ultimately saved the planet Caldera, but in the chaos and confusion of the battle Rayker had managed to slip away. The organization had spent nearly two years trying to hunt her down, but she was too skilled, too deeply enmeshed in the Helvetic League’s underworld.
The council of chiefs, Valkyrie’s inscrutable governing body, had agreed to form Task Force Nemesis under the command of General Smyrna. She was assigned the Mountain Ranger’s Bravo company—the Venomous Vipers—a Raider squadron of elite counter terrorists, and a task unit from Orbital Demolition Team Four. Supported by the Banshee and guided by Christie’s intelligence gathering unit, their mission statement was simple—do whatever it took to kill or capture Allana Rayker.
As they made slow, painstaking process, they began to receive indications that their target had rejoined her old corporate paymasters at VennZech, the most powerful weapons manufacturer in the galaxy. Then, the news broke that Joakkim Meissner, one of Rayker’s suspected allies, had been promoted to Chief Executive, arranging his party on Ambrosia to celebrate.
He had also invited one of the League’s rising stars in physics. The brilliant young doctor Ernst Kolar was a specialist in theoretical energy development. He had recently published a paper describing a theoretical anti-matter reactor alarmingly similar to those that powered the warships and killing machines of the Jotnar. Christie’s team leader, Jiao Zhang, had offered the high-confidence assessment that Rayker would refuse to let such an asset out of her sight. And, on the protected world of Ambrosia, what could she have to fear?
But Valkyrie had been breaking through Helvetic security barriers since the creation of the quasi-imperial state, and had become extremely good at it. And so, the operation had been set in motion.
Christie took a deep breath and prepared herself, soothing away any traces of nervousness. She left the outer hall and re-entered the party.
***
“Olympus, Olympus, Olympus,” a voice intoned through Kayla’s headset.
The code word signaled that Christie had identified Rayker in the chateau, and the operation was a go. A double burst of static followed; a squad-level transmission from Kes. It was the order to take out the security guards.
Kayla and Ray had crawled as close as they could to their position, readied their stun rifle and waited patiently. As the signal came in, the men had pushed away from their boulder rest spot and were resuming their patrol through the woods. Kayla waited until their line of sight had passed her, before she stood slowly, weapon aimed. A faint rustle told her that Ray had done the same.
The guard at the back, still slurping from a water bottle, fell a little further behind. The stun rifle’s projectile hit him in the neck, shocking his nervous system into an overload state. He seized and dropped to the ground, unconscious. The men ahead of him span and there was a mechanical thump from Ray’s weapon. Her shot struck center mass, and another figure collapsed, just as Kayla pulled the trigger again. The last guard went down quickly, but, to Kayla’s shock, seemed to remain conscious. He struggled on the ground like a dying fish as he tried to reach for his radio, so she sprinted forward and kicked him in the head.
Kayla wrinkled her nose and cursed quietly. The scientist who had trained her squad on the weapon had explained that a failed shot would result in the victim emptying the contents of their bowels and bladder. Looks like she had been right.
“Three down,” she muttered into her helmet mic. “No other contacts in sight.”
Even so, she continued to scan the distant trees carefully.
Ray secured the guards with serum injections while Tian and Yak, the other two members of the fire team joined them. The projectiles were gathered into Tian’s rucksack, and, when the rest of the squad arrived, they moved off through the trees together, climbing the slope until they reached another crest, and a chain link fence.
Half a mile away from the chateau, the main security compound provided a base for the guard’s rapid reaction force. The compound had a single entrance and out of the blockhouse blue light flickered to the loud chatter of an excited racing commentator.
Kayla stopped in the shadows of the trees and waited patiently. The air above her head snapped and cracked as rounds shot past, impacting security cameras and sensors around the compound. The bullets were a large caliber, but with a thermic charge core. Each strike glowed brilliantly as intense temperatures melted through their targets, leaving no evidence of what had neutralized them.
She grinned. Thandi was going to work, and though her presence and skill made Kayla feel much more confident, she would still tease her about doing the ‘easy part’ later.
In the near distance, there were a pair of flashes and loud zaps as the base’s generator and backup went out to EMP charges. Another squad from their platoon was working their own approach. That made Kayla nervous. The two elements would soon have to meet up, and nothing could be more dangerous to those who owned the night than confusing each other for the enemy.
She took her team around the base to the now dark main gate as the on-duty guards emerged to check on the loss of power. Stun rifle shots knocked them out, and the squad regrouped behind the cover of a vehicle bay, while Kayla identified the largest building in the compound and watched it attentively.
They waited patiently until the silence was broken by a new voice on the radio.
“Eyes on the barracks, north side. No movement.”
“South side clear,” Kayla confirmed.
“Approaching,” the other squad leader said.
Kayla waited until she saw shapes emerging from the shadows and sprinting behind the back of the large structure. Then, one leaned out from the corner, watching. Kayla tapped a control on her helmet, and a perfect white line broke through her grey world, pointing towards the figure. She was answered with a similar flash of infra-red energy, and her anxiety eased.
Kes, who had also been watching, tapped her shoulder, and Kayla led off towards the barracks.
From outside the Rangers could make out the annoyed calls of men and women stumbling around in the darkness. One emerged from a side door and nearly got off a shout before Tian tackled him and knocked him out. The two squads moved quickly, cracking open doorways and rolling gas grenades inside.
Invisible and odorless, the gas contained the signature compound Valkyrie used to erase memories. The Rangers waited a few minutes, safe behind their face masks, then entered and confirmed that all inside were unconscious. Kes and Thandi smashed a few liquor bottles against the walls, while others dragged the bodies into the main room, and distributed more ‘evidence’.
Eventually, Kes called ‘all clear’, and Kayla emerged from the building into the night, lifting her faceplate to breathe in some fresh air. She saw her fire team, Ray, Tian and Yak, heading to the vehicles to place EMP charges, and began to follow them, when a sharp rap on her helmet brought her up short.
She turned to see Thandi, vizor up, and an expectant expression on her face.
“Was that a curse word I heard earlier?” Thandi asked, keeping her voice low.
Kayla shook her head. “Negative. I was providing a biological assessment of the dude.”
“Ick. Two in the barracks were uh… in the middle of something when they passed out. I had to pull them apart.” She pulled a face. “That was gross.”
Kayla winked at her friend, who was spiritual enough for the both of them. “Unmarried, I bet. Your god approves.”
Thandi nodded gratefully, then shot her a look. “He’s not just my—"
Kes marched over, her expression severe. “Do either of you have EMP charges left?” she demanded.
“Yes Corporal,” Kayla nodded, and patted her rucksack.
“There’s a couple of transports left in the north corner. Get on it, then rejoin us on the east fence. Come on, we need to move quickly!”
Kayla scampered away, buzzing with energy. The squad still had to head for the chateau, and take up their position in the perimeter that was slowly drawing tighter around Rayker. She glanced at the dark mountains around her. In a dozen locations, radar arrays, missile defenses and communications stations were being similarly neutralized by small teams of Valkyrie from the various units. Soon they would have their prey, and Kayla privately hoped that she wouldn’t surrender.
***
Christie found Doctor Kolar, alone as usual, in the main hall and painfully out of place at such a large social gathering. He nursed a champagne glass, and smiled at passersby. Christie stared at him until their eyes met, and he quickly looked away, pretending to study one of Meissner’s diamond statues.
She walked in his direction, and as she passed, she flashed him a shy smile. Then, returning to her coterie of admirers, she looked back with another friendly expression.
Kolar cautiously approached the group, obviously unsure of what to do. The men ignored him, but the second he managed to breach the outer mass of bodies, Christie was on him.
“Oh hello! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure!” she cried, extending her hand and beaming like a searchlight.
The other men frowned as they lost her attention.
“Um… All mine,” stammered Kolar. “Sorry. I’m—”
“Doctor Kolar, isn’t it?” interrupted a renowned and pompous pianist. “You’re working on space batteries for VennZech weapons research, or some such thing?”
“Well…” Kolar gulped. “We’re starting a new project on micro-singularities at the Planck scale, you see the current theory on weak—”
“It’s weak, you say?” The pianist laughed raucously as he slapped the doctor’s back. “Well, I never would have guessed, old boy.”
“Tell me, Zotty,” Christie cut in, addressing one of the other men, “Didn’t you just tell me this was one of Meissner’s inner circle?” she tottered forward slightly as she spoke.
“Correct,” the elder son and heir apparent of the largest media corporation in the League replied with a smile. He lifted his gaze from her bosom. “Doctor Kolar’s work is vital for the Maestro.”
Kolar smiled gratefully. “Indeed. Well, it’s about energy generation.”
“Oh, I hope you aren’t helping him make more of those dreadful bombs,” Christie said, and pouted. “War is very wrong! Really, I don’t know why they haven’t sanctioned the company for some of the absolutely horrid things they produce.”
The surrounding billionaires nodded their approval, while Kolar flushed. “No… well, I mustn’t talk about it, but I shouldn’t be getting involved in that side of VennZech’s business.”
“Quite right.” Christie nodded. “Oh, but you’re dry.” She turned to a waiter, grabbed a pair of glasses from his tray and handed one to Kolar.
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Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
First ¦ Previous ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
Christie emerged from the bathroom once her nerves had calmed and found one of the chateau’s windows that looked out on the western ridgelines. She reached into her handbag and produced a stick of lipstick, sighted on a curve of blackness intersecting a particular constellation rising into the night sky, and pushed a discreet button on the base. The task force now had confirmation that Rayker was inside the chateau and the machine would be set in motion.
As she turned to head back to the party, Christie saw a different range of mountains in the corner of her eye. A fishhook stabbed into the muscle of her heart and tugged, while she was nearly overwhelmed with nausea. For a moment, a dusty valley surrounded her, the rocky ground coursing with streams of blood. The ghostly white face of Rose Djallen was before her, life fading from her eyes. Christie wanted to gasp, but she let the pain wash over her in silence, as they had all done so often. A moment’s concentration brought her back to the present, and the dangerous operation ahead.
Rayker’s expression had been so devoid of warmth—as though she wore her psychotic nature with pride. Christie couldn’t understand how someone could be so inhuman. She wondered what would happen if Rayker sensed the trap that was closing around her. Christie knew that she, and probably some of the guests, would be taken hostage. No doubt the dozens of Rangers stalking through the darkness would break cover, racing through the night to rescue her, with one particularly hard-headed individual out front. The highly skilled operators now preparing their own move on the chateau would fight their way inside, killing anyone who resisted them. The Banshee, their well-armed gunship, would break its cloak, leaving its position behind Ambrosia’s second moon to rain hellfire down on the small army that provided security for the Helvetic League’s pleasure planet. Rayker would probably die in a hail of gunfire—giving Rose her deserved retribution—for the Valkyrie would eagerly sacrifice their own lives before leaving one of their own behind.
Then the news of the incident would spread, and humanity’s thirty-seven worlds would talk of nothing else but the secret army of super soldiers that protected them from the arsenal of the Jotnar—an ancient and extinct civilization, who’s abandoned weapons and warships littered the stars. Nations, corporations and crime syndicates would find ways to track down those weapons, exploiting their incredible destructive power for their own selfish purposes. There would be war, billions would die, and, like those who had preceded them, humanity would probably wipe itself out.
Rose had died protecting Christie from Rayker’s drone army, but she had also died to uphold Valkyrie’s ancient responsibility.
That operation had ultimately saved the planet Caldera, but in the chaos and confusion of the battle Rayker had managed to slip away. The organization had spent nearly two years trying to hunt her down, but she was too skilled, too deeply enmeshed in the Helvetic League’s underworld.
The council of chiefs, Valkyrie’s inscrutable governing body, had agreed to form Task Force Nemesis under the command of General Smyrna. She was assigned the Mountain Ranger’s Bravo company—the Venomous Vipers—a Raider squadron of elite counter terrorists, and a task unit from Orbital Demolition Team Four. Supported by the Banshee and guided by Christie’s intelligence gathering unit, their mission statement was simple—do whatever it took to kill or capture Allana Rayker.
As they made slow, painstaking process, they began to receive indications that their target had rejoined her old corporate paymasters at VennZech, the most powerful weapons manufacturer in the galaxy. Then, the news broke that Joakkim Meissner, one of Rayker’s suspected allies, had been promoted to Chief Executive, arranging his party on Ambrosia to celebrate.
He had also invited one of the League’s rising stars in physics. The brilliant young doctor Ernst Kolar was a specialist in theoretical energy development. He had recently published a paper describing a theoretical anti-matter reactor alarmingly similar to those that powered the warships and killing machines of the Jotnar. Christie’s team leader, Jiao Zhang, had offered the high-confidence assessment that Rayker would refuse to let such an asset out of her sight. And, on the protected world of Ambrosia, what could she have to fear?
But Valkyrie had been breaking through Helvetic security barriers since the creation of the quasi-imperial state, and had become extremely good at it. And so, the operation had been set in motion.
Christie took a deep breath and prepared herself, soothing away any traces of nervousness. She left the outer hall and re-entered the party.
***
“Olympus, Olympus, Olympus,” a voice intoned through Kayla’s headset.
The code word signaled that Christie had identified Rayker in the chateau, and the operation was a go. A double burst of static followed; a squad-level transmission from Kes. It was the order to take out the security guards.
Kayla and Ray had crawled as close as they could to their position, readied their stun rifle and waited patiently. As the signal came in, the men had pushed away from their boulder rest spot and were resuming their patrol through the woods. Kayla waited until their line of sight had passed her, before she stood slowly, weapon aimed. A faint rustle told her that Ray had done the same.
The guard at the back, still slurping from a water bottle, fell a little further behind. The stun rifle’s projectile hit him in the neck, shocking his nervous system into an overload state. He seized and dropped to the ground, unconscious. The men ahead of him span and there was a mechanical thump from Ray’s weapon. Her shot struck center mass, and another figure collapsed, just as Kayla pulled the trigger again. The last guard went down quickly, but, to Kayla’s shock, seemed to remain conscious. He struggled on the ground like a dying fish as he tried to reach for his radio, so she sprinted forward and kicked him in the head.
Kayla wrinkled her nose and cursed quietly. The scientist who had trained her squad on the weapon had explained that a failed shot would result in the victim emptying the contents of their bowels and bladder. Looks like she had been right.
“Three down,” she muttered into her helmet mic. “No other contacts in sight.”
Even so, she continued to scan the distant trees carefully.
Ray secured the guards with serum injections while Tian and Yak, the other two members of the fire team joined them. The projectiles were gathered into Tian’s rucksack, and, when the rest of the squad arrived, they moved off through the trees together, climbing the slope until they reached another crest, and a chain link fence.
Half a mile away from the chateau, the main security compound provided a base for the guard’s rapid reaction force. The compound had a single entrance and out of the blockhouse blue light flickered to the loud chatter of an excited racing commentator.
Kayla stopped in the shadows of the trees and waited patiently. The air above her head snapped and cracked as rounds shot past, impacting security cameras and sensors around the compound. The bullets were a large caliber, but with a thermic charge core. Each strike glowed brilliantly as intense temperatures melted through their targets, leaving no evidence of what had neutralized them.
She grinned. Thandi was going to work, and though her presence and skill made Kayla feel much more confident, she would still tease her about doing the ‘easy part’ later.
In the near distance, there were a pair of flashes and loud zaps as the base’s generator and backup went out to EMP charges. Another squad from their platoon was working their own approach. That made Kayla nervous. The two elements would soon have to meet up, and nothing could be more dangerous to those who owned the night than confusing each other for the enemy.
She took her team around the base to the now dark main gate as the on-duty guards emerged to check on the loss of power. Stun rifle shots knocked them out, and the squad regrouped behind the cover of a vehicle bay, while Kayla identified the largest building in the compound and watched it attentively.
They waited patiently until the silence was broken by a new voice on the radio.
“Eyes on the barracks, north side. No movement.”
“South side clear,” Kayla confirmed.
“Approaching,” the other squad leader said.
Kayla waited until she saw shapes emerging from the shadows and sprinting behind the back of the large structure. Then, one leaned out from the corner, watching. Kayla tapped a control on her helmet, and a perfect white line broke through her grey world, pointing towards the figure. She was answered with a similar flash of infra-red energy, and her anxiety eased.
Kes, who had also been watching, tapped her shoulder, and Kayla led off towards the barracks.
From outside the Rangers could make out the annoyed calls of men and women stumbling around in the darkness. One emerged from a side door and nearly got off a shout before Tian tackled him and knocked him out. The two squads moved quickly, cracking open doorways and rolling gas grenades inside.
Invisible and odorless, the gas contained the signature compound Valkyrie used to erase memories. The Rangers waited a few minutes, safe behind their face masks, then entered and confirmed that all inside were unconscious. Kes and Thandi smashed a few liquor bottles against the walls, while others dragged the bodies into the main room, and distributed more ‘evidence’.
Eventually, Kes called ‘all clear’, and Kayla emerged from the building into the night, lifting her faceplate to breathe in some fresh air. She saw her fire team, Ray, Tian and Yak, heading to the vehicles to place EMP charges, and began to follow them, when a sharp rap on her helmet brought her up short.
She turned to see Thandi, vizor up, and an expectant expression on her face.
“Was that a curse word I heard earlier?” Thandi asked, keeping her voice low.
Kayla shook her head. “Negative. I was providing a biological assessment of the dude.”
“Ick. Two in the barracks were uh… in the middle of something when they passed out. I had to pull them apart.” She pulled a face. “That was gross.”
Kayla winked at her friend, who was spiritual enough for the both of them. “Unmarried, I bet. Your god approves.”
Thandi nodded gratefully, then shot her a look. “He’s not just my—"
Kes marched over, her expression severe. “Do either of you have EMP charges left?” she demanded.
“Yes Corporal,” Kayla nodded, and patted her rucksack.
“There’s a couple of transports left in the north corner. Get on it, then rejoin us on the east fence. Come on, we need to move quickly!”
Kayla scampered away, buzzing with energy. The squad still had to head for the chateau, and take up their position in the perimeter that was slowly drawing tighter around Rayker. She glanced at the dark mountains around her. In a dozen locations, radar arrays, missile defenses and communications stations were being similarly neutralized by small teams of Valkyrie from the various units. Soon they would have their prey, and Kayla privately hoped that she wouldn’t surrender.
***
Christie found Doctor Kolar, alone as usual, in the main hall and painfully out of place at such a large social gathering. He nursed a champagne glass, and smiled at passersby. Christie stared at him until their eyes met, and he quickly looked away, pretending to study one of Meissner’s diamond statues.
She walked in his direction, and as she passed, she flashed him a shy smile. Then, returning to her coterie of admirers, she looked back with another friendly expression.
Kolar cautiously approached the group, obviously unsure of what to do. The men ignored him, but the second he managed to breach the outer mass of bodies, Christie was on him.
“Oh hello! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure!” she cried, extending her hand and beaming like a searchlight.
The other men frowned as they lost her attention.
“Um… All mine,” stammered Kolar. “Sorry. I’m—”
“Doctor Kolar, isn’t it?” interrupted a renowned and pompous pianist. “You’re working on space batteries for VennZech weapons research, or some such thing?”
“Well…” Kolar gulped. “We’re starting a new project on micro-singularities at the Planck scale, you see the current theory on weak—”
“It’s weak, you say?” The pianist laughed raucously as he slapped the doctor’s back. “Well, I never would have guessed, old boy.”
“Tell me, Zotty,” Christie cut in, addressing one of the other men, “Didn’t you just tell me this was one of Meissner’s inner circle?” she tottered forward slightly as she spoke.
“Correct,” the elder son and heir apparent of the largest media corporation in the League replied with a smile. He lifted his gaze from her bosom. “Doctor Kolar’s work is vital for the Maestro.”
Kolar smiled gratefully. “Indeed. Well, it’s about energy generation.”
“Oh, I hope you aren’t helping him make more of those dreadful bombs,” Christie said, and pouted. “War is very wrong! Really, I don’t know why they haven’t sanctioned the company for some of the absolutely horrid things they produce.”
The surrounding billionaires nodded their approval, while Kolar flushed. “No… well, I mustn’t talk about it, but I shouldn’t be getting involved in that side of VennZech’s business.”
“Quite right.” Christie nodded. “Oh, but you’re dry.” She turned to a waiter, grabbed a pair of glasses from his tray and handed one to Kolar.
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Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1crq34h/troublemakers_buried_secrets_bolster_the_weak/
......
Go'mon strutted around the command center, a cape of deep purple silk flowing about his shoulders as he wore his gilded armor. An ornate helmet underneath one arm, the faceplate forged into the visage of a snarling Rak'nal beast. He peered over the shoulders of drone pilots, observing the carnage on the streets in front of the mansion. His black scimitar hung at his belt, the palm of his war gauntlet resting on the hilt, eyebrow crests rising as he saw the expeditionary general's Buzzard explode.
"Casualty report on General Gra'vos?"
He stated to the small Geknosian woman who deftly piloted her drone closer to the wreckage to pull data from the onboard recorder. Her eyes sparkled, reflected in the screen as the data was streamed directly into her brain through a neural implant.
"Deceased, Just like you planned, his provided pleasure slave threw him from the craft and stole the det-sphere you clipped to his belt. You seem to know a lot about how these humans fight."
Go'mon touched the small grooves underneath the elastomer skin of his face where that parasite had shot him with a concealed gun. He laughed bloodily and purred.
"Failure is the greatest teacher in the universe, these parasites have taught me everything they know. Now we just need to see what their true fighting strength is."
"Understood sir, orders?"
"Get a view on the inner courtyard and report to the commanders of the second and third waves their positions and weaponry."
A young lieutenant called out.
"Sir! Twelve UHM-60 Blackhawks en-route to the enemy base! Advise!"
Go'mon stalked over, peering over the satellite observer's shoulder as he followed a chevron of twelve helicopters loaded down with ancient, obsolete human war-droids. He rapped the claws of his war gauntlet against the handle of his scimitar with a purr.
"Send orders to Commander Mar'tek to equip three of his Gallicks with anti-air weaponry, and orders for Commander Rak'don to equip his light attack craft with visual lock on missiles."
"Yes sir, relaying orders now."
Go'mon patted his subordinate on the shoulder hard enough to make them wince as he stepped back to gaze up at the massive map of Golgotha on the big screen. Small purple dots converging on a black dot that symbolized the human base of operations. He noticed that Mar'tek's forces were delayed, having only made it roughly halfway to their staging area. Walking over to the Comm's desk he asked.
"What's taking Commander Mar'tek so long to get into position?"
"A small group of human Saboteurs dropped a pair of buildings across the roadway, they're still clearing the rubble sir."
Go'mon nodded, picking idly at his metal teeth with the sharp point of his war gauntlet's index finger.
"Hm... I thought the parasite's response was oddly punctual, color me surprised they had the wherewithal to keep scouts. Move Mar'tek to the rear of the attack plan and tell Rak'don he's up next."
"Yessir!"
Go'mon chuckled haughtily, exiting the command room and returning to his field office. Setting his helmet on top of his desk he picked up the communication stick for sylva.
"Sylva, Would you kindly deal with that gate once you've landed?~"
There was a pause before.
"I'm too injured to follow that order sir."
Go'mon raised an eyebrow crest at the monotone voice that echoed back through the device.
"you've never refused a command before darling, would you kindly take care of the gate?"
The pause was longer this time, much longer this time. Then, a different, much younger voice came through, filled with fear, but also tainted with determination.
"Fuck you, Go'mon. These are our friends."
The sound of penny whistles and drums accompanied the words before the comms device popped in his gauntlet with the sound of a musket shot. Impossibly thick gray smoke pulsing from the speaker as he snarled and tossed it to the side.
"Bobby, Would you be a dear and retrieve your sister for me?"
The almost seven foot tall brute slowly nodded, eyes dull behind his ceramite mask as he stomped from the command center, bulky combat armor clattering and clunking with each step. Go'mon pressed his metal teeth together with a hiss. That damned warrior corrupted everything he touched with delusions of free will. Go'mon grabbed a fungal cigar from the box General Da'kos had given him as a thank you gift. The sweet, smoky flavor filling his maw as he lit it with the glowing hot blade of his gauntlet's thumb. He relaxed into his chair, flicking his cape out from beneath him as he enjoyed the cigar to relieve some momentary stress. His body suddenly flared with tingling power as the voice of Conquest growled in his ear.
"Kill that boy before he realises your plan. if he finds out your intentions he won't hold back."
Go'mon puffed the cigar and pulled it from his lips, letting it burst into purple flames and crumble away into cinders as he rose from his chair. He stepped out into the command center and commanded.
"Get me a buzzard to that battlefield, Order's from Conquest herself!"
There was a moment of silence as he let his aura roll over the command room, several of the comms officers immediately setting up a Buzzard for his departure.
...
Dust kicked off the ground as Drake's jump pack slowed his fall meters above the ground, He hit the ground and tore it from his back, whipping it into a group of soldiers and hitting it with a jet of pale flames.
The pack detonated in ball of orange fire that vaporized the soldiers, his cape fluttering in the backdraft before he whipped his sword from it's sheath, keen edges wreathed in pale flames as he took a Geknosian's arm off at the elbow as they tried to stuff a blaster pistol in his face. He snatched the blaster pistol from the air, using it to put a kinetic bolt into the faceplate of a powerarmored soldier with a Warhammer, Crumpling it inwards as he slid a foot back, another warhammer crashing into the ground where he'd just been standing. Another kinetic bolt tore off the soldier's pauldron as the hammer swung up at his face, making him reel back as another hammerhead caught him at the small of his back and knocked the air from his lungs. Another hammer slammed into his faceplate, forcing him to kick himself into a flip to land back on his feet. Ears ringing he deflected a Warhammer with his sword before putting another blaster bolt into the wielder's faceplate. But even as they fell back, another hammerblow hit the side of his helmet and smacked him down. Drake rolled out of the way as twenty millimeter high-explosive rounds shredded his assailants, allowing him to get to his feet as the war-bots formed a lethal semicircle, sending high explosive firepowerinto the rear column of the Geknosian assault at a blistering pace. Drake shook his head clear and vaulted over the back of one, hearing it's gun fall silent as he landed in it's cone of fire. Several flowing chops decimated a small squad of Geknosians as he tried to fight his way to the center of the column where the Gallicks hammered the gate with kinetic penetrators. The armored gate shuddering with each blow as Drake dodged war gauntlets and hammers, retaliating with fast slashes and blinding thrusts. Purple blood drenching him as his heart began to pound with battle lust.
He heard a mighty roar and crackle as one of the flying machines opened up with it's chin gun, harassing a gallick with 20mm High explosive rounds to get it's attention off the gates. It's shadow passing overhead with a Buzzard in pursuit as it slalomed low through the buildings to come back for another gun run. There was a ground shaking Boom! as something exploded beyond the rooftops, a Buzzard, smoking from one engine buzzing overhead and away from the battlefield. Drake quickly returned his focus to the battlefield, Smacking a Warhammer to the side with the blaster pistol before thrusting the blade right beneath the soldier's chin, twisting, and pulling free as a war-bot fell forward, a molten pit of slag glowing in it's back as he turned his head to face another column of armor and armored soldiers as they rounded onto the battlefield, a Buzzard painted the deepest, most royal purple he'd ever seen hovered low in front of them.
A geknosian in gold and purple armor fell from the open door, Cape of purple silk flowing behind them as they landed with one palm against the ground, Dark scimitar slashed out to the side as a crescent blade of purple energy was slung straight at Drake. Death's chosen slashed upward at the crescent, but it flowed around his blade, cutting across his chest and bringing with it a foul, draining weakness as a cold, familiar voice called out.
"That one's mine boys!~ all mine!~"
Drake hadn't recognized Go'mon in the ornate armor, but now there was no mistaking it. He tried to take a step forward but his legs buckled beneath him, sending him to his knees as a festering cold spread from the wounds made by the crescent blade that never touched his armor. He looked in confusion at his sword as the pale flames flickered out, then up just as Go'mons armored shin cracked into the side of his helmet, flinging him through a building as his mind reeled with confusion. He pulled himself from the rubble around him, stumbling to the side as a blade of purple energy sliced through the rubble he'd just been buried in without leaving a mark. He tossed the blaster pistol to the side, bringing the free hand to his mouth, intending to rip a ring off with his teeth. But as Go'mon slung another blade of purple energy with a cackle, He missed the ring, biting off his left index finger, ring and all as a boost of power burned the creeping cold away. He spit the severed digit to the ground as the ring still on it puffed into smoke.
"Feeling weak boy?!~ like your power's been drained?~"
Go'mon purred as he took a step forward, aura swelling with power as he held up the black sword.
"The blade of greed will do that if you let it touch you~"
Go'mon took an unfamiliar stance, Blade arched over his head and pointed down as he fell into a low, wide stance, one arm pushed forward as the blades on his war gauntlet's fingers glowed orange with heat. Drake fell into his peasants guard, gripping his sword in two hands as he glared at Go'mon. His gaze flickered off go'mon for a split second as he thought of everyone still in the mansion and the Geknosian chosen surged forward in a flash of purple light to run drake through before kicking him through the back wall of the building, Drake's power draining away like the blood pouring from the hole in his Lorica. He barely deflected Go'mons black blade as Conquest's chosen surged forward with a brutal slash, unable to focus for the split second required to dissipate a ring and refresh his power. Go'mons aura blooming with power with each blow of that black blade. Drake burst through a wall and into an empty street, tumbling ass over head as he desperately held onto his sword.
Angry red blood spilled from the hole in his armor as he got his elbows under him, a pair of golden boots clomping into view as Go'mon gloated, a softly flickering bloom of pale purple flames in his palm.
"All this power, and you don't even know how to properly control or wield it... Don't worry, you won't have it long~"
Drake manage to dissipate two of the remaining rings on his left hand, an intoxicating burst of power allowing him to launch himself back away from Go'mon as his wounds knitted closed, severed finger growing back with a crunching, fleshy noise. He could feel Go'mons grin behind the snarling visage of his helmet as he fell into a peasants guard, feeling far too weak for having removed five rings. The two stared at each other silently, one of the flying machines spinning to the ground before exploding into a fireball behind Go'mon. Drake fet a deathly calm fall over him as he twisted his sword up into a high guard.
He had to make it back to his people, no matter what. The thumb and pinkie ring on his right hand puffed into smoke as he felt those corvid like wings form at his back, a cold cage of festering ice around the burning sun of rage in his heart. Go'mon took a simple offensive guard, twirling the scimitar with obvious skill in a figure eight in front of him.
The two chosen launched themselves at each other, Drake wreathed in black smoke as Go'mon exploded with pale purple light; the pavement cracking beneath their feet with the violence of the action.
...
Martha tended to the mounting wounded in the infirmary as fast as she could, back splayed open as small gossamer arms allowed her to work on several wounded at once. Many of the ex-slave women helped, binding wounds with clean bandages and splinting broken limbs like they had back at the plantations. Hearing the large wooden doors of the ballroom infirmary slam open, she looked up as Destrier and Caz hauled in a pale remin and a Brutalized young woman. Keeping one hand holding a bundle of gauze against the bleeding wound she was attempting to close up, The young man looking up at her with fear, pain, and hope on his face as he helped hold the gauze down. Pointing to two empty beds she called out.
"Set them there! Where's Drake?! We could really use the walking embodiment of Death right now!"
Destrier hoarsely called back, setting Remin into a bed as the old man struggled to keep his eyes open.
"He's fighting his way towards us from the rear!"
Caz helped the battered young woman into a bed where she curled into the fetal position before the Markswoman swept back out of the infirmary, Huntress humming as she slammed a new flechette into the barrel. Martha continued tying off tattered blood vessels, trying to keep the young man from bleeding out as Cassius appeared next to her, shaking his hands dry after scrubbing them with antiseptic to help close up the gnarly gash in the stomach of the wounded man behind her. Martha's heart pounded in her throat as she finally managed to sew the wound closed before hitting the fighter with a sedative to ease his pain and knock him out. She wanted to cry but held in her tears as she turned around to focus on the same patient as Cassius, but even as she did, the young man placed a bloodied palm on her forearm. She felt a lone tear drip down her snout as she looked at the mans deathly stillness, eyes closed in quiet acceptance of his fate, a grim smile on his face.
Her legs felt weak beneath her as she leaned on Cassius, watching Destrier rush out of the infirmary out of the corner of her eye.
"we're going to need a miracle if we want to make it out of this alive..."
She whimpered as the din of battle echoed dully from outside. That was when a wounded man sat up, grunting as he held the bandages across his torso. She rushed over to stop him from tumbling out of bed when he simply fell through the floor, an odd superposition happening where he was there and not for a split second. But when it faded, there was a note left on the ground, scrawled in blood red, blotchy words.
"I'll be back, and I won't be alone."
Martha could only hope that was true as she turned to continue tending the wounded, Despair filling her heart as more wounded were brought in from the ramparts.
...
Halcyon held the gate, rifle spitting hatred from behind one of the wall's crenellations as one of his Hellions fell next to him, skull split open by gauss slug. Halcyon glanced down at the gate where Thomas and another hulking agri-droid held it against the wall, the gate rattling with each impact of a Gallick's kinetic penetrator, apples of sunlight spreading across the ground where they'd simply sailed straight through. The Geknosian reinforcements turning an already blistering hail of various projectiles and beams becoming an impassable force as several of their light cruisers fired on the helicopters that circled over the battlefield. Missiles streaking upwards and shredding the soft-skinned aircraft, forcing them to take evasive maneuvers and stop the pulse-pounding barrage of their rotary cannons. Halcyon's attention was drawn to the sky as an impossibly loud crash of steel on steel accompanied a streak of pale purple light and void black as they shot into the sky. The black streak getting slammed down by a brutal, unseen strike that made Halcyon's heart leap into his throat. What kind of monster could go toe to toe with Drake, and appear to be winning.
Halcyon, peaked past the cranellation he had his back against, a gauss slug taking his eye out and making him shout in pain as he jerked his head back. Ripping a bundle of gauze from his medi-pack, he rolled it out and bunched it up, pressing it against his vacant and shattered eye socket as a bout of lightheadedness turned the edges of his reduced vision dark.
One of his men crouched beside him flinching when chips of stone exploded from the crenellation they'd been taking cover behind, some sort of heavy weapon having been aimed at them as they darted for Halcyon. Halcyon looked into their eyes, face just as dismayed as he felt, their words barely audible over the din of battle.
"what do we do, sir...?"
Halcyon let out a sigh, shouting over the roar of gunfire.
"Pull back! secure the mansion!"
The fighters didn't need to be told twice as the ramparts were abandoned, leaping from the walls to sprint back to the mansion, The agri-bots forming a phalanx behind them to cover their retreat. But Halcyon couldn't help but feel this is exactly what the Geknosians wanted.
But even as the fighters swarmed into the Mansion, Two figures walked past them.
A hulking man in dark samurai armor wielding an lmg and a smaller woman with a flowing furred cloak and white mask, carrying an ornate rail rifle walked past them through the doors.
Halcyon watched in dismayed confusion as Caz and Destrier stepped out into the sunlight, a jump pack freshly mounted on Destriers back beside his kanabo. Another smaller figure appeared as if from thin air, Cassius spinning the weight at the end of a chain attached to a kama menacingly as the doors closed behind them, massive metal shutters sealing them out as the mansion was locked down. He couldn't help but smile grimly.
There was a reason they were Drake's friends, and it wasn't because they were the best fighters.
It was because when everyone else ran away, they ran towards the fight... regardless of their own safety.
......
Part 109: will be linked here upon release.

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As it stood, my crazy plan certainly seemed to resonate with the gathered leaders, though they did offer their own suggestions as to how best to implement improvements and contingencies. I of course welcomed each and every one of them, then debated their merits and as the hours flew by we weeded out the ideas that simply would not work and expanded on those that would.
It was quite honestly refreshing to not have to do all the thinking for once, it felt nice to do a little outsourcing as one might describe it. Besides, as many would say I only had one point of view, well, two if we’re being literal, that of a human and an arachne, the former coming from a world without magic and monstrous beings like those I had surrounded myself with.
Their unique viewpoints had offered a wealth of possibilities and were in their own ways invaluable to the war effort. I am glad that they all managed to get along as well. I had seen no hint of animosity or long held grudges between any of them, not even the age old and quite frankly stereotypical hostility between the elves and dwarves had reared its head. In fact, the two races had seemingly fed into each other's ideas with excited glee, and I had almost expected there to be a bout of mad cackling near the end of their ramblings.
Of course now the meeting was over and we were all starting our preparations. The basic prep wouldn’t take that long, ensuring our warriors were all well supplied, their weapons and armor at peak quality before the battle was paramount. It was everything else about the plan that would take time, time we must ensure we had if we were to succeed. And so I headed for the Aberrant Spire, a place I had not been in a long time.
As I followed the streets I was reminded of my first delve into this city, back when it was fully under the control of vile abominations. I paused, looking at a short building on my right, large claw marks scoring the wall near the lip of the roof. I remember one of those beasts had attempted to climb up to get me as I traversed the rooftops.
Remembering that I felt a shiver run down my spine and issued a silent word of thanks that such horrors no longer existed in my new home, that vibrant life had returned to these hallowed streets. It was a place of hope now, not terror.
It was with this remembering of certain facts that I began looking for a faster means of travel to reach the Spire, as walking would be a long and arduous task indeed. Thankfully this was something that was already thought of, for as I meandered through the streets in my search I came across a somewhat raised walkway, except this walkway had a pair of lines worked from crystal or metal, I couldn’t rightly tell which, running through it.
I paused, wondering how I had never seen this thing before and in doing so I bore witness to its purpose. A merchant with a large wagon approached a circular pattern on the walkway, ensured his wares were well secured and then spoke a destination. At once a ball of energy surrounded him and the wagon, raising it all off the ground and then sending him zipping along, following the right hand line. Even as I watched, another traveler came from the opposite direction, the magic wrought into the pathway depositing them gently off to one side and they continued on their merry way.
I had to wonder why thing wasn’t around the first time I had come here, though the more I looked at the construction the stone looked somewhat fresh, perhaps it was simply a new addition and not something from the city’s past. Either way, it looked mighty useful so I stepped into the circle and took a deep breath.
“The Aberrant Spire.” I spoke clearly, and felt myself go weightless. The magic ball of energy formed around me, lifting me off solid ground and leaving me floating, which certainly triggered a slight fear response from my arachnid instincts. I was moved into position and then shot forward. It took all I had to not scream, sudden fear turning into excitement as my human experiences harkened back to several amusement park visits as a kid and getting to ride the roller coasters.
Though instead of loop the loops and corkscrews it was naught but straight lines and gentle curves that weaved through and over the city streets. Everything was a blur and yet I hardly felt it, really all that I felt was a vague sense of motion in my gut and the wind pulling at my hair, but that was it. I did see the spire come into view however, and steadily it grew larger and larger till at last it dominated the skyline.
My breakneck pace started to slow and just as it had with the other traveler, the magic gently shifted me to one side and then put me down softly. I found my legs were incredibly wobbly and as such I simply stood there and waited for the wobbling to cease. Once it had I stepped off the platform and down onto the street proper, finally taking in the sights as it were.
If the areas around the palace and the rest of the city were for merchants, common folk and nobility, then this area was almost exclusively inhabited by those with magical talents. I saw robed figures flitting to and fro, some hovering along on disks of light or wind, one even walked into a shadowy patch and vanished, presumably reappearing elsewhere. And over it all loomed the Spire, still as pretty and strange as it had been, though it seemed to glow with newfound life and vigor.
The teleporter complex seemed in working order as well, though it would have to be since new mages had taken up residence in the spire above. I made for the complex, many mages who had been engrossed in walking and thinking doing double takes as I passed. I simply nodded at each in turn and continued on my merry way, entering the complex and getting bombarded by the sounds of a busy building. Pages and mages zipped about, conducting their various tasks as they did, stepping into or out of the teleporters as needed. It felt almost like that one time I’d visited Grand Central, boy hadn’t that been fun.
I decided that I should probably get some directions to the person that would be most suited to help me with my plan, really whomever happened to be in charge of this place would be perfect for that and so I stepped up to a circular desk that seemed to be staffed by a mixture of elves, dwarves, humans and even a slime person, the latter wobbling in place and simply shifting their features about to face anyone that spoke to them.
I stopped before an elf, the woman looking up and recognition dawning on her face as she beheld me.
“Y-Your majesty! What brings you all the way out here?” She stammered even as she made to stand and bow. I waved her back down into her seat with a smile, the elf sinking back down into her seat.
“I have business with whomever is in charge of the Spire and I have found that I have no idea who that happens to be. I was hoping to change that, and get directions as well.”
The woman nodded, still a bit frazzled thanks to an unannounced visit by royalty.
“I-I can do that, a moment please your majesty.” She said, hunching over a large book that sat before her and furiously flipping through it. Once she found what she needed, she opened a drawer and pulled out what looked like some sort of talisman, setting it down before me on the desk. “Firstly, this will identify you as not only an authorized visitor to the spire, but also as royalty. Granted we all know you are but the spire itself wouldn’t and so would treat you as an intruder if you didn’t carry this with you at all times. And considering your authority over us all, it will allow you to access areas that would be otherwise restricted to normal visitors.”
As she explained its function I picked the talisman up and looked it over. It was a simple thing, not too gaudy though I couldn’t help but notice a coat of arms upon it that had a distinctly arachne flavor to it. I could swear I’d seen it before somewhere else, perhaps that would have to be something else I looked into later.
“I can call an escort for you, they can guide you right to the Archmage.” The receptionist spoke, snapping me from my thoughts as I affixed the talisman to my breast.
“That won’t be necessary, a map will suffice. I am an adventurer first and a queen second after all.” Chuckling, I watched her nod and pull a sheet of parchment towards her, a hand hovering over the surface and magic flowing from her palm onto the page. What looked like ink appeared on it, which then took the shape of the current room I resided in. Words even appeared, informing me that I could use any of the teleporters I wished.
“The man you are looking for is Archmage Yesric. As far as I know he doesn’t have any pressing duties today so you should find him sequestered in his office.” The receptionist rose and bowed again, keeping her hunched over pose even as I started to walk away.
“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.” I said. I took a subtle look over my shoulder and was relieved to see that she’d sat back down and was currently in the midst of furious conversation with her coworkers. Which was fair, not every day a member of royalty comes asking for help right?
Stepping into the teleporter I was promptly deposited into the halls of the Spire, which now bustled with activity. Mostly staff it seemed, though I spotted several gaggles of younger folk all dressed in something reminiscent of school uniforms rushing through the halls, their expressions belying a desperate desire to reach their destination as quickly as possible. I had heard nothing about the spire being used as some sort of school, though I suppose it only made sense to train the next generation of magic users in a place where magic was dominant.
Looking down at the map I’d been provided, I was pleased to see that my current position was reflected upon its surface. But now there was a handy dandy guiding line that pointed down a hallway to my right. And so without further ado, I followed it. People naturally got out of my way, though whether that was because I took up most of the hall or because they knew who I was I wasn’t sure, either way I did my best to not impede their progress too much.
Turning a corner I was suddenly met with an empty hallway, one that slowly began to fill with black smoke. My gut twisted and my head felt heavy, my eyes began to flutter and then I blinked, the hallway was bustling with people, no longer filled with the smoke. I licked my lips, trying to shake the ghosts of the past and move forward, though my legs couldn’t help but shiver slightly with every step I took.
Floor by floor I made my way closer to my target, till eventually I was directed through a door into what looked like every executive's office that I’d ever seen, just with a fantasy twist to it. Or rather, it was the little office for a secretary that I entered, which presumably meant that through the next door was what I was looking for.
A bespectacled goblin lass looked up from a large tome and blinked at me, her eyes rather enlarged thanks to the lenses that sat before them.
“Can I help you?” She drawled tiredly, and I stepped up to a good distance from her desk.
“Yes, I’m here to speak with the Archmage.”
“I do not recall setting any meetings today. May I ask who wishes for this audience?” She said, flipping through another much smaller tome that sat nearby.
“Safa Eventra.”
She continued to look through this smaller book, before freezing, her head slowly turning towards me. Now she really seemed to be looking at me and I could only smile politely back at her.
“A-Apologies your majesty, a moment if you please, I must inform the Archmage of your presence.” She said, hopping down off her chair and scampering hurriedly towards the other door. I didn’t say anything, instead just engaging in the arachne equivalent of rocking back and forth on my heels. She slipped through the door and I could hear muffled speech before several loud thuds and some not so muffled cursing ensued. The goblin secretary appeared, leaning against the door after closing it.
“The archmage will see you in just a moment, your majesty.” She said, resuming her post and doing her best to look professional for me.
“That’s quite alright, I’m in no rush.” I responded, humming softly to myself as I looked around the room. A moment later, I heard a voice call out from the office and since that was my cue, I bowed my head to the secretary and stepped through the door into the archmage's office.
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Introduction

In this post, we'll be discussing something called "Virtue Ethics." This is a normative theory of ethics that's most associated with Aristotle, though has in recent times experienced a resurgence of sorts from modern philosophers, some of whom have tweaked and modified it, and in doing so have created different branches on this tree of moral theory. We will be comparing these different flavors of Virtue Ethics to that of the New Testament's, pointing out where they're similar, as well as highlighting where the NT differs (and is actually superior) from the heathens' views.
I want to preface all this with a verse and a warning:

"Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ."-Colossians 2:8

The entire Bible, over and over again, warns against syncretism. It's a running theme throughout to condemn the practice, with this verse being one of the more explicit ones to do so.
Mapping the ideas of Pagans (and especially Greek philosophers) onto the Scriptures has always resulted in people severely misinterpreting the Bible, as looking at the Word of God through a Hellenistic lens is and always has been extremely innapropiate to the author's original intent.
Whenever Greek philosophy or ideas are referenced, they're always portrayed in a bad light or otherwise used to make a point. Examples of the latter could be found in the apostle Paul's writings, as he was a fully educated Roman citizen of his day, and so he made use of known Hellenestic philosophy and literature (that he would have been familiar with) by redefining their terms and ideas in a way that would be consistent with the theology of his own religion. The apostle Peter did the same within his own epistles whenever he mentioned "Tartarus," the abyss/prison for certain disobedient angels that rebelled against God, despite the fact that the word has its roots in Greek mythology and not Hebrew religion (though, the belief that there were a group of spiritual beings that rebelled against the highest authority in the heavens was one technically shared between the two ancient cultures; even if the parties involved were vastly different, as well as the contexts of the rebellion itself).
The affect Hellenstic philosophy has had on the way people think (even subconsciously) can still be felt to this day, and can be seen in the confusion modern "Christianity" has brought on through its adoption of Gnostic teachings such as Dualism or the inherently fatalistic views that many unknowingly hold due to the error of Classical Theism.
While yes, I will be commending the heathen (unbeliever) whenever they are right with their ideas as pertaining to this subject, I will also show where they are wrong.
Let's begin.

"What Is Virtue Ethics?"

First, we need to define some terms and point out the differences between this view and others within the larger debate of normative ethics.
There are three major approaches in normative ethics, those being: Consequentalism, Deontology, and Virtue Ethics. The following are definitions of the terms:
Consequentialism – a class of normative, teleological ethical theories that holds that the consequences of one's conduct are the ultimate basis for judgement about the rightness or wrongness of that conduct.
Deontology – theories where an action is considered morally good because of some characteristic of the action itself, not because the product of the action is good. Deontological ethics holds that at least some acts are morally obligatory regardless of their consequences for human welfare.
Virtue Ethics – theories that emphasize the role of character and virtue in moral philosophy rather than either doing one’s duty or acting in order to bring about good consequences. The virtue ethicist would argue that actions themselves, while important, aren't as important as the character behind them. To the virtue ethicist, consequences are also important, but they would say that good consequences ultimately flow from a virtuous character who has made virtuous decisions. Theories of virtue ethics do not aim primarily to identify universal principles that can be applied in any moral situation, instead teaching that the best decisions can vary based on context, and that there are only some actions that would be universally evil, only because those actions could never flow from a virtuous character in the first place (e.g., rape).
Aristotle's idea of ethics is in an important respect different from most people's, especially today. Heirs as we are to Kant’s idea of duty – there is a right thing that one ought to do, as rational beings who respect other persons – and to Mill’s idea of utility – the right thing to do is that which produces the greatest good for the greatest number – most of us see ethics as concerned with actions. "The function of ethics is to help me see what I ought to do in a given situation," the modern says. Aristotle’s approach was different. His ethic is not so much concerned about helping us to see what we ought to do, as about what sort of person we ought to be.
Aristotle was concerned with character, and with the things that go to make up good and bad character; virtues and vices. His sort of ethic does not look at our action to see if it fulfils our duty, or produces a certain outcome, such as the greatest good of the greatest number, and therefore merits approval. Instead, it looks at us; at the character behind the actions, to see whether we merit approval.
Comparing Virtue Ethics with philosophies such as Deontology and Consequentialism, we are able to divide ethical theories into two kinds; act-centered theories and agent-centered theories. Kant’s (Deontological) and Mill’s (Utilitarian) approaches are act-centered, because they concern themselves with our actions, whilst Aristotle’s is agent-centered because it concerns itself with the character of a person, which in his view was ourselves and our own dispositions that prompt our actions.
Both approaches have ardent present-day advocates, and so both are alive and well. Virtue Ethicists are dissatisfied with the answers ‘modern’ act-centered philosophy offers, and look for a more flexible, person-centered approach that takes more account of the subtle varieties of human motivation. Those in this camp see ethics as being about people – moral agents – rather than merely about actions. Of course, your actions matter. But, for Aristotle and his present day advocates alike, they matter as expressions of the kind of person you are. They indicate such qualities as kindness, fairness, compassion, and so on, and it is these qualities and their corresponding vices that it is the business of ethics to approve or disapprove.
All this seems simple and uncontroversial; there are two ways of looking at an action to evaluate it morally. You can take the action in isolation and judge it, or take the agent and judge him or her.
Virtue ethicists argue that act-centered ethics are narrow and bloodless. What is needed is a richer moral vocabulary than just ‘right and wrong’. There are subtle but important differences between actions that are good because they are kind and those that are good because they are generous, and those that are good because they are just. Likewise, there are subtle but important differences between actions that are bad because they are selfish and those that are bad because they are cruel and those that are bad because they are unfair. These, and many other, distinctions are lost when we talk simply about doing one’s duty, or promoting utility. Questions of motive and of character are lost, in these asceptic terms. Modern moral philosophy won’t do: it is cold, technical and insensitive to the many kinds and degrees of value expressed in human actions. Ethics is more than just thought experiments and hypotheticals about what would be the right course of action to take in any given situation we might conjure up from the comfort of our armchair. Ethics is about doing, and about context and character.

The Different Kinds of "Virtue Ethics"

Virtue Ethics has has been developed in two main directions: Eudaimonism, and agent-based theories.
Eudaimonism (Aristotle's view) bases virtues in human flourishing, where flourishing is equated with performing one’s distinctive function well. In the case of humans, Aristotle argued that our distinctive function is reasoning, and so the life “worth living” is one which we reason well. He also believed that only free men in the upper classes of society (i.e., the aristocrats) could excel in virtue and eschew vice, being that such men had greater access to the means in accomplishing this task as they had the wealth and resources to better perform their distinctive function of 'reasoning,' and thus "live well." For the Eudaimonian, inner dispositions are what one ought to focus on in order to cultivate virtuous traits, and thus a virtuous character.
In contrast, an agent-based theory emphasizes that virtues are determined by common-sense intuitions that we as observers judge to be admirable traits in other people. There are a variety of human traits that we find admirable, such as benevolence, kindness, compassion, etc., and we can identify these by looking at the people we admire, our moral exemplars. Agent-based theories also state that the motivations and intentions behind an action are ultimately what determine whether or not said action is actually virtuous. Whereas Eudaimonism understands the moral life in terms of inner dispositions or proclivities to act in certain ways (whether righteous or wicked, just or unjust, kind or cruel, etc.), agent-based theories are more radical in that their evaluation of actions is dependent on ethical judgments about the inner life of the agents who perform those actions, that is, what the motivations and intents are of a person.
[Note: While both Eudaimonism and agent-based theories are both agent-centered, Eudaimonism is not to be confused with an agent-based theory. Both branches concern themselves more with agents rather than acts themselves, but Eudamonism focuses on the self to improve whereas the agent-based theory focuses on others to improve.]

Common Critcisims Toward Secular Forms of Virtue Ethics

Firstly, Eudaimonism provides a self-centered conception of ethics because "human flourishing" (here defined as simply fulfilling our base function as humans, which is "reason" according to this view) is seen as an end in itself and does not sufficiently consider the extent to which our actions affect other people. Morality requires us to consider others for their own sake and not because they may benefit us. There seems to be something wrong with aiming to behave compassionately, kindly, and honestly merely because this will make oneself happier or "reason well."
Secondly, both Eudaimonism and agent-based theories also don't provide guidance on how we should act, as there are no clear principles for guiding action other than “act as a virtuous person would act given the situation.” Who is a virtuous person? Who is the first or universal exemplar?
Lastly, the ability to cultivate the right virtues will be affected by a number of different factors beyond a person’s control due to education, society, friends and family. If moral character is so reliant on luck, what role does this leave for appropriate praise and blame of the person? For the Eudaimonian, one ought to be born into a status of privilege if they wish to excel in being virtuous. For the proponent of an agent-based theory, one ought to be born into a society or family with good role models and preferably be raised by such, else they have no moral exemplars to emulate.

The New Testament's Virtue Ethic

The New Testament authors didn’t sit down and do a self-consciously philosophical exercise, for this was not what they were concerned with. They were concerned with giving practical instruction to disciples of the faith, and merely trying to express the ethical implications of their spiritual experience. That being said, we know the apostle Paul was familiar with the writings of Aristotle. We can actually identify places where Paul displays knowledge of Aristotle and incorporates some of the philosopher's ideas into his own epistles. Before we do this, however, it's important we refute common misnomers about what the Bible teaches concerning ethics in general.
You probably have heard many attack the ethics of the New Testament as being primitive and simplistic. "God dictates universal commands to follow: 'do not lie,' do 'not divorce,' 'do not insult.' And the only motivating factor is escaping hellfire and obtaining the reward of eternal pleasure." But in reality, this is a gross misrepresentation of the ethics laid out in the NT. I will argue the NT advocates for a form of virtue ethics, instead of claiming the NT contains a form of deontic ethics, as it is so often assumed.
Elizabeth Anscombe was one of the most influential virtue ethicists of the 20th century. Her work helped to revive virtue ethics in the modern era, however she also criticized the ethics of the Bible for promoting a form of ethics different than what Aristotle promoted:
"...between aristotle and us came Christianity, with its law conception of ethics. For Christianity derived its ethical notions from the Torah. (One might be inclined to think that a law conception of ethics could arise only among people who accepted an allegedly divine positive law..." (Modern Moral Philosophy, vol. 33, no. 124, 1-19)
We've already dealt with the issue of the Torah in another post. The Torah is not laying down moral laws, but describing justice in the form of ancient Near Eastern wisdom literature. But does the New Testament teach a deontic form of ethics? Anscombe might appear justified in her claim, as some "Christian" theologians have explicitly taught the ethics of the NT is deontic.
However, other theologians have argued the ethics of the NT is best characterized as a form of virtue ethics. In a study of the NT, we'll support this notion. As noted earlier, one of the central features of this approach to ethics is that the aim of ethics should be on living a virtuous life. Other forms of ethics focus on directing actions when confronted with a moral dilemma, but for virtue ethics every action is a moral or immoral action because all of our actions contribute or do not contribute to living a virtuous life. In other words, for a virtue ethicist, everything we do will contribute to living a fulfilled life. Now, the NT promotes a similar idea with a slight modification. The NT changes the distinctictive function and purpose for man in Eudaimonism from "reasoning" to loving God and others instead, and thus "living well" is changed from self-centered 'flourshing' (as defined by Aristotle) to glorifying God instead. The apostles taught everything we do contributes to living a life that glorifies God:

"Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God."-1 Corinthians 10:31
"And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him."-Colossians 3:17

So we see the same idea in Paul, that everything we do can be seen as a moral or immoral action. Everything we do should be seen as contributing to living a life that glorifies god or not. As a believer, the aim is not just doing good actions to avoid punishments, but to see everything we do as glorifying God. On secular virtue ethics, all our actions are either advancing a good life or not: nourishing your body contributes to living a good life. In a Biblical context: taking the time to properly dress contributes to living a good life, and not giving into the sin of sloth. So all our actions can be moral actions in this context, and so likewise for Paul and Jesus, all we do can contribute to living a life that glorifies God.
Since God made our bodies to thrive and enjoy life, we should nourish our bodies so we can thrive as God intended for our bodies to do, thus ultimately glorifying Him. Since we were created to experience and feel enjoyment, laughing and enjoying things throughout life glorifies God as well since we're experiencing emotions that God created to be experienced. Everything we do should be to glorify God, and often all that is is living our lives in the way that they were intended to be lived. Biblical ethics is very much more than merely performing right actions, but living a virtuous life that brings glory to God.
As Jesus said:

"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind."-Matthew 22:37b

It is also important to focus on what it means to love, which is an important aspect of what it means to be a believer. Paul makes the radical claim that to love is the entirety of the law of God:

"For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."-Galatians 5:14

Jesus also taught that to love God and love others were the two greatest commandments (Mark 12:28-31, Matt. 22:34-40). He also extends the commandment to love beyond one's brethren, and to love our enemies (Matt. 5:44). Loving those around us is central to what it means to be a believer (John 13:34; 15:12-17, Rom. 12:10; 13:8, 1 Cor. 13:1-8; 16:14, 2 Cor. 8:8, Eph. 4:2; 5:2, Phili. 1:9, Heb. 10:24, Jam. 2:8, 1 Pet. 1:22, 1 John 2:10; 3:23).
One might suggest this is no different than the Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do to you," or a Kantian rule: "I ought never to act except in such a way that I could also will that my maxim should become a universal law." In other words, "to live well is to perform good deeds or actions and nothing more." But an important point about loving someone is it cannot be done through actions alone. For example, one could buy a gift for their spouse to cheer them up. However, one could perform this action merely because they value performing right actions without any love for the person. One could donate to charity because it is the right thing to do, and not because she cares for the people who would benefit. In such scenarios, they can be seen as idolizing moral laws, not necessarily caring about helping others.
But to love someone requires more than merely performing right actions. You cannot love someone and not care about who they are as a person and where they are heading in life. To love is to will the good of the other. Jesus chastised the Pharisees of his day for only performing right actions, but not loving their brethren in their hearts. His criticism follows Matthew chapter 22, where Jesus says the greatest commandments are to love. The implication is the Pharisees perform proper actions, but have the wrong motivations for doing so. James Keenan puts it like this:
"Essential to understanding this command is that we love our neighbors not as objects of our devotion, but rather as subjects; that is, as persons. Thus, we cannot love others only because God wants us to do so, since then we would love them as means or as objects and not as persons. We can only love one another as subjects, just as God loves us." (Jesus and Virtue Ethics: Building Bridges Between New Testament Studies and Moral Theology, pg. 86)
A critic may bring up that verses of the NT are still phrased as commands, and therefore the structure implies duties were the central aspect of Christian ethics. But the importance of duties is not foreign to Virtue Ethics. Instead of being central to the ethical framework, duties flow from a virtuous character. Virtues are active and have certain demands for which a person must fulfill in their active behavior.
According to Aristotle, knowledge of the virtues gives us practical wisdom in how to properly act. Duties flow from the understanding of the demands of virtues. To put it another way, for virtues to manifest in persons, they have certain demands that must be fulfilled. For the believer, the command of love flows from being virtuous and aligning oneself with the character of God. Commitment to the character of Christ, who perfectly carried out the will of the Father, allows us to perform right and proper actions.
The NT also contains lists of virtues the believer ought to emulate, the most famous of these is in Galatians chapter 5:
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law." (vss. 22-23)
Now, the connection with Aristotle cannot be more pronounced. The Greek phrase "against such there is no law" is almost identical to what we find in Aristotle's politics (3.13.1284a). It seems clear Paul is teaching a similar ethical framework to what Aristotle advocated for. Paul is teaching that the believing community ought to be persons who display key virtues, and that their conduct would not need to be regulated by a law. Instead, their character should be the standard others can measure themselves by. Romans chapter 2 is also a place we see references to Aristotle, where Paul notes that when Gentiles do what the law requires, they are "a law unto themselves" (vss. 14-15). In other words, they do not need to be told to act a certain way. They have the proper virtuous character that directs their actions, to do the good the law requires. Paul is advocating in Galatians that believers should think in a similar way.
So in Galatians 5, we have affinity with the teachings of Aristotle, and in other lists of virtues throughout the NT we see a similar idea, which is that Christians were meant to display virtues primarily (Rom. 5:3-5, 1 Cor. 13:1-8, Col. 3:12-17, 1 Tim. 3:2-3; 4:7-8, Jam. 3:17-18, 2 Pet. 1:5-8). From that, good deeds will properly manifest in our actions.
Anscombe made a great point on what the focus of ethics should be:
"It would be a great improvement if, instead of 'morally wrong', one always named a genus such as 'untruthful', 'unchaste', 'unjust'. We should no longer ask whether doing something was 'wrong', passing directly from some description of an action to this notion; we should ask whether, e.g., it was unjust; and the answer would sometimes be clear at once." (Modern Moral Philosophy, vol. 33, no. 124, 1-19)
Interestingly enough, Paul lays out a similar idea in explaining Christian ethics:

"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you."-Philippians 4:8-9

In other words, the central aspect on living a Christian life was on what is virtuous, not on what is lawfully right or wrong. Right actions flow from whatever is honorable, true, and pure. Correlating with this is how Paul responds to the Corinthians who claimed that "all was lawful." Paul reminded them the emphasis is not on what is lawful, but on what is good for building a virtuous character:

"All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not."-1 Corinthians 10:23

One's main focus ought to be on what is good, not on laws that dictate behavior.
One of the key aspects of Virtue Ethics is the idea we ought to learn from virtuous teachers and imitate them. A virtuous character is obtained by imitating what a virtuous person does. This parallels a key aspect of Christian ethics. Imitating Christ was (and still is) crucial to living a virtuous life:

"For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps:"-1 Peter 2:21

Paul says in Romans 8:29 that Christians were predestined "to be conformed to the image of his Son." Jesus often taught his followers to do as he does (Matt. 16:24, Mark 8:34, Luke 6:40; 9:23, John 13:15, 34). Paul says in 1st Corinthians 11: Be ye followers [i.e., imitators] of me, even as I also am of Christ" (vs. 1). Hebrews 13:7 says to imitate the faith of the patriarchs. 1st Thessalonians 2:14 says to imitate each other. And jesus taught to imitate the good Samaritan from his parable (Luke 10:37). Imitating virtuous teachers was key for Christian ethics.
Aristotle tended to compare acquiring virtues with that of learning a practical skill, like playing an instrument or learning how to become a builder. Such practical skills are best picked up when trained by a master of that particular skill, because a teacher can always provide more insight through lessons they learn from experience. For example, an expert salesman can provide examples from his experience of what works with specific customers that a sales textbook could never provide. Many professions today require on-the-job training or experience before even hiring an applicant. The reason is: experience is key to learning a profession. Merely acquiring knowledge from a textbook or an instruction manual is often insufficient to master a skill, so why would mastering the skill of virtue be any different?
In the NT, a believer is to see the world through the eyes of Christ and to love as he loved. One cannot learn how to be a virtuous person without knowing what that life would look like. A key component of Christian theology is that the Messiah perfectly represented the Father and His will on earth, to show us how to properly live as God intended for man. This central tenet of the NT aligns well with agent-based theories of Virtue Ethics, and modifies it so that the person of Jesus Christ is the universal exemplar that one is meant to emulate. We are called to imitate him through our actions, thoughts, and desires, and to conform ourselves to the way he lived. As Paul said:

"I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me."-Galatians 2:20

If learning from Christ is key, we should briefly take a look at the Sermon on the Mount, which is said to be one of Jesus' most important series of teachings. Daniel Harrington notes:
"The sermon begins with nine 'beatitudes' (see 5:3–12) in which Jesus declares as 'happy' or 'blessed' those who practice certain virtues, and promises them an eternal reward and the fullness of God's kingdom." (Jesus and Virtue Ethics: Building Bridges Between New Testament Studies and Moral Theology, pg. 62)
Jesus laid out what a life for those that follow him look like in detail. One ought to be merciful, pure in heart, a peacemaker, thirst for righteousness, etcetera (Matt. 5:2-10). The Sermon does not merely include what right actions are, but includes sections on proper desires. Not only is it wrong to murder, but it is wrong to desire to murder or wish ill on someone (Matt. 5:22). Avoiding adultery is good, but one also should not covet after another man's woman in their heart (Matt. 5:28). In other words, merely avoiding immoral actions is not enough. One must also not desire vices. A believer is called to desire what is good.
The Sermon is not necessarily laying down universal moral commands. For example, Matthew 5:9 says, "Blessed are the peacemakers," but this doesn't imply absolute Pacifism, as it would contradict passages in the Old Testament where it explicitly says there is a time for war (Ecc. 3:8). The point of the Sermon is to teach what a virtuous life ought to look like. A follower of Christ ought to use reason to know what is proper to do in various circumstances. For example, in Matthew chapter 6, Jesus offers guidance on how one ought to pray by presenting the Lord's prayer (vss. 9-15). This is a model of how to pray. It's not a command for followers to always pray in this exact way.
In reality, the Sermon on the Mount mixes in exhortations, parables, hyperbole, declarations, commands, etc. It is best understood as displaying what a virtuous life ought to look like. It's not a law code. Building on this, it's important to understand a proper action is context sensitive. Under Virtue Ethics, one should not necessarily apply a universal maxim to every situation. Sometimes the proper action will depend on what is at stake, who is involved, what is the background, etc. Aristotle advocated against the idea there were fixed universal laws that dictate actions, and instead he argued the right action would depend on the circumstances one finds themselves in. Although the ethics of the NT may be a bit more strict, it still places an emphasis on being sensitive to the context of situations.
In 1st Corinthians chapter 8, Paul lays out instructions on how to deal with meat that has been sacrificed to Pagan idols. Instead of stating an absolute prohibition against meat sacrificed to idols, Paul instructed Christians to use reason to come to the proper ethical decision based on context. In other words, the right action is not determined only by a law. Instead, the Christian had to make the proper decision based on the context: if eating caused another to stumble, then you ought to abstain; if not, then there's no harm done. The value of the action depends on the context.
A Deontologist might reply that there's still a universal law given here: that one should always abstain if it's going to cause another to stumble. This objection can be addressed by asking: how are we to know if eating the meat will cause another believer to stumble? To answer such a question, one must be sensitive to the context, which in this case would be knowledge of the fellow believer and your relation to him. It is the context that determines the right action, not a universal law. Moreover, Paul states that the primary goal for the believer should be to love (1 Cor. 13). The first consideration is once again not the rightness of action, but having love for one another. From this, knowledge of the proper action will follow.
Paul often explains that living a proper life as a believer will take work and practice. He reminded Timothy to attend readings, practice what these things mean, and keep a close watch on himself (1 Tim. 4:13-14). Elsewhere, he directs that all believers must work on their faith (Phili. 2:12). Beyond this, he also noted that not all Christians would have the same gifts, and to accept that this was normal (1 Cor. 12). For some, certain things may be a hindrance, whereas for others it is acceptable (Rom. 14:2-4). What matters is that we love and build one another up (1 Thess. 5:11). Right actions flow from love and knowledge of virtue. Rules are not the primary motives that dictate our actions; rules are secondary in this regard.
An interesting case can be studied with regards to divorce in the Gospels. Jesus preaches against divorce (Mark 10:7-9) and it is often interpreted to mean "divorce is always wrong, regardless of circumstances." However, it should be noted the prohibition on divorce is not a universal law. The context can affect whether or not a divorce is permissible. Jesus says that one can divorce over sexual immorality. Paul also has a situation where divorce is permissible, namely if one spouse is an unbeliever and wishes to leave (1 Cor. 7:15). The implication one can derive is divorce is not ideal, but there are circumstances where it may be the proper action to take. Given the other features of Christian Virtue Ethics we already covered, the proper action to take will depend on the circumstances and what the virtuous agent thinks is the most loving thing to do. A universal prohibition on divorce is not a Christian ethic. Instead, one ought to discern the proper action from circumstances. However, it's clear in most cases divorce would not be the virtuous thing to do.
Building on this, it's important to note that within NT ethics, certain acts are always wrong. For example, idolatry and sexual immorality are always wrong (1 Cor. 10:14, Col. 3:15, 1 Pet. 4:13). There are no possible scenarios where it would be okay to rape, because such an act would never flow from a virtuous character. But this concept is not foreign to theories of Virtue Ethics. Aristotle noted that for some actions, no qualifications could make them virtuous. Actions such as rape or murder are always wrong, because they would never flow from a virtuous character. So it's not as if a Virtue Ethicist cannot claim that some actions are always wrong. They simply are qualified as being unable to flow from virtue, whereas actions like lying or waging war could be considered virtuous for the right reason.
Now, despite Christian Virtue Ethics having many similarities with Eudaimonism (Aristotelian ethics), there are also numerous differences beyond what we've already noted. One of the deficiencies of how Aristotle lays out his ethical theory is that it is essentially an all-boys club. Aristotle writes mainly to aristocratic men, excluding women and slaves. In his view, women were inferior to men and slaves lacked the necessary rational faculty. But the Christians rejected this mentality, as the teachings of Christ and the apostles were available to all (Matt. 28:19). Paul said, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus" (Gal. 3:28). Peter wrote that all Christians were part of the priesthood of Christ (1 Pet. 2:5). Jesus had women followers (Luke 8:2-3), and they were entrusted with delivering revelation (Mark 15:40–16:8). What we find throughout the NT is a radical change to how women were viewed in the ancient world. Paul is also likely building on Aristotle's household structure and refining it. David deSilva says the household codes of the NT are "...following the pairs laid out as early as Aristotle to such a degree as to suggest that these were standard topics in ethical instruction" (Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity, pg. 231). But Paul adds an important preface: submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ (Eph. 5:20-21). DeSilva says:
"...husbands, we cannot then ignore the distinctively Christian addition they bring to this arrangement; husbands are to be subject to their wives as well." (Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity, pg. 233)
Thus Paul doesn't break down the traditional perspective on the structure of the family, but he does add the idea that we all must submit to each other in reverence, love, unity, and cooperation because all are equal before God. There is no explicit mention in the NT calling for the abolishment of slavery, but it should be noted that Paul taught that slaves should be seen as equals. In the letter to Philemon, Paul is clear that his slave is no longer "as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved" (vs. 16). Thus, within Christian ethics class distinctions were supposed to evaporate. All were brothers and sisters of one family.
An important aspect of Christian ethics is that it wasn't a standalone ethical theory. It's embedded in the larger Christian worldview. The ethical framework is dependent on Christian doctrines. For Aristotle, his ethical theory is for men who were raised well. This is why these specific men desire to be virtuous and perform right actions. As for why the believer does good and desires to be virtuous, it's not because one was raised well, but because they have been activated by the power of God's Spirit (John 3:6, 1 Cor. 12:13). For believers, the reason as to why we desire to be good and virtuous is because the Spirit of God has regenerated us. He loves us so we can love others (1 John 4:19). One is meant to look to the life of Christ and what he has done by dying on the cross, to know that we are loved and forgiven. This in turn is meant to activate a good life, having seen what we have gained and been forgiven of. He calls and activates us to do similar to those around us. This is a more open system for people of all groups and classes. One only has to call upon the name of the Lord to be included. It does not require a specific gender or to be raised a certain way.
The goal of Aristotelian ethics is to achieve 'eudaimonia.' However, within the Bible the goal is as the Westminster Shorter Catechism puts it: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever." Since the central aspect of Biblical Eschatology is that humans will continue on forever in resurrected bodies, the aim of ethics is more than living a good life presently. Living a good life now is important, but it was only one aspect in the Christian worldview. Humans are meant to live beyond this life, so the aim is also about building virtuous souls that will continue on. The importance of this is more crucial than it may seem at first. Paul said that we must all appear before judgment, so that "every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad" (2 Cor. 15:10).
Being a virtuous person requires integrity, because one will still have to answer to God after death. If one can commit an evil act and no one finds out, then from the outside perspective he or she may still appear virtuous. Culturally speaking, the ancient world was very different from our own. All wrongdoings centered around public honor and shame. One did good to receive public honor, and one did not do what was bad to receive public shame. Right and wrong were connected to one's public honor and shame in the ancient Greco-Roman world. Thus good and evil were public ideas, not personal ideas. Ethical demands were grounded in the community in one's public appearance
The Biblical idea of an omniscient God who cared about our ethical status laid a foundation for integrity and personal guilt to emerge. Now one ought to do good because he is beholden to God, not just the community. Believers are to remain focused on God's approval and on the actions that lead them, regardless of the world's response. This lays down fertile ground for integrity to emerge. So the Biblical worldview has another important element built in that encourages ethical behavior, regardless of the honor it brings. One ought to do good because of a commitment to God not, because it might bring honor to one's name publicly.

Implications for Preterists

Paul believed that the Second Coming would happen in his generation, and prescribed certain things in the NT on the basis of that belief. An example of an exhortation that would no longer apppy to us today would be 1st Corinthians 7:24-29, where Paul argues that the times him and his fellow Christians were in called for celibacy, being that the Lord was fast approaching. It wasn't a sin if you did get married, of course; it was just harder to serve the Lord in this context if you had a family to worry about. Thus, Paul encouraged being single.
So, we need to be careful when reading the NT and determining what prohibitions or exhortations are still applicable to us today. Context is key.

Hello!
I hope we're all doing well!
7/12 correct last time around which was a lot better than i expected, but most importantly, our secondary parlay landed! (Secondary Parlay: Aldrich/Hardy o1.5/2.5 or R3 Start + McKinney/Ribovics ITD + Woodson/Caceres o1.5/2.5 or R3 Starts + Lewis/Nascimento ITD)
Full detailed breakdown here: https://www.reddit.com/MMAbetting/comments/1csfr9o/ufc_fight_night_barboza_v_murphy_fight_predictions/?
Lets hope for another successful event! Tough one though.
(c) - Champ
D/DWCS - Debut/Dana Whites' Contender Series
FLS - Fight Lose Streak
FWS - Fight Win Streak
NS - No Streak
(#x) - Rank in Division
x/3 - Confidence Levels
Lets go!!!
Prelims
Women’s Strawweight
Emily Ducote (-275) (13-8-0, NS) v Vanessa Demopoulos (+220) (10-5-0, NS)
Striking: Ducote throws a lot of volume when she fights, she’s fairly tenacious and is great at stringing together combinations. Demopoulos isn’t too much of a striker, she’s more of a collision waiting to happen, usually throwing heavy then going for takedowns. Because of that, I do think Ducote will be able to easily read those initial attacks coming and retaliate accordingly. Ducote has the mild advantage here.
Wrestling/Grappling: Demopoulos’ main style is grappling, she’s quick to set up submissions off her back, she’s got great flexibility and I think it’ll be dangerous for Ducote to even try to grapple with her. Demopoulos is the more effective grappler here in my opinion, at least in terms of submission aggression.
Cardio: Both are decent but Ducote seems to have the better cardio, especially since she looks relatively okay as the rounds go by, even after throwing a lot of volume.
Prediction: Ducote via UD (1/3)
Bantamweight
Alatengheili (+150) (16-9-2, NS) v Kleydson Rodrigues (-185) (8-3-0, NS)
Striking: A tale of two styles, Alatengheili throws heavy, explosive attacks but usually only when he counters, and he tends to try to lure in his opponents to explode once they make their attack. Rodrigues seems to be more calculated and more diverse with his boxing, often countering and making the right reads and the right attacks to land cleanly against aggressive opponents. Rodrigues is also most likely going to add a lot of kicks in this fight, as that has been quite effective when Gutierrez fought Alatengheili. Both have their own little advantages here, but I like how clean Rodrigues has been, compared to the heavy inaccuracy of Alatengheili, which has been highlighted in the main write up.
Wrestling/Grappling: I mean, Alatengheili is a very good wrestler, but he doesn’t really use it as much as he should. He has the advantage here on paper, but I just don’t know if he is going to be using it in this fight. If he does, then he could absolutely get a win here.
Cardio: It’s a bit hard to say, I kind of want to say Alatengheili has the better cardio here given his style, but it’s just so hard to tell. Make your own judgement on this one perhaps, but it could be a 50/50.
Prediction: Rodrigues via UD (1/3)
Women’s Strawweight
Piera Rodriguez (-175) (9-1-0, NS) v Ariane Carnelossi (+145) (14-3-0, NS)
Striking: Rodriguez has clean strikes in her arsenal and she does string together combinations well, her long jab is awesome and she uses it over and over again, which could then help lead to a takedown. But overall, she seems a lot more educated with her striking than Carnelossi. Carnelossi just has power and a bully kind of style, nothing really clean about her striking at all. Perhaps a tale of two different styles here.
Wrestling/Grappling: It has been clear since the moment I saw this fight was announced, that Rodriguez is going to employ her wrestling against Carnelossi, I don’t think Carnelossi is any good on the ground, and Rodriguez has been shown to time her entries very well. Rodriguez is clearly better in the wrestling department in my opinion.
Cardio: Eh, I’d say Rodriguez has the better cardio here, she’s a lot more experienced in the UFC than Carnelossi so we have seen her in those long, drawn out fights.
Prediction: Rodriguez via UD (1/3)
Middleweight
Abus Magomedov (-250) (25-6-1, 2 FLS) v Warlley Alves (+205) (14-7-0, 3 FLS)
Striking: Whilst Alves is well known for his ridiculous punching power and explosive attacks, I do think the reach advantage of Magomedov stifles a lot of that, as well as gives Magomedov the additional advantage of being able to see things come his way, considering that he fights decently well at range, whereas Alves needs to enter the pocket to land his attacks.
Wrestling/Grappling: This is where Alves should take the fight to win, it’s perhaps the path of least resistance and Alves does have quite a few submission wins under his belt, plus the wrestling could exhaust Magomedov, who has a questionable gas tank (which has hopefully been improved upon).
Cardio: I don’t trust Magomedov’s cardio here, I think he’s still a 1.5 round fighter, so the advantage here in my honest opinion falls to Alves here. This is going to be an interesting aspect of the fight though, because if Magomedov has fixed all of his cardio and pacing problems, he could very well be a dangerous man.
Prediction: Magomedov via KO R2 (1/3)
Women’s Bantamweight
Tamires Vidal (+300) (7-2-0, NS) v Melissa Gatto (-410) (8-2-2, 2 FLS)
Striking: Vidal has a bit of a power and explosiveness advantage here, especially very early on, but Gatto is a bit more well versed and a bit more cleaner when it comes to striking.
Wrestling/Grappling: This is a clear advantage to Gatto, she is very, very good on the ground and if she can completely lock down the movement of Vidal, it could be a long, drawn out fight but ultimately a victory for Gatto.
Cardio: it’s been quite a while since we’ve seen Gatto fight, but we do know that she’s been in decision bouts before, so her cardio isn’t exactly a big issue, whereas Vidal has that style where she needs to get a quick finish or she is going to slow down substantially. Gatto should have the slightly better cardio here, but that time away could prove otherwise.
Prediction: Gatto via UD (1/3)
Light Heavyweight
Oumar Sy (D) (9-0-0, 9 FWS) v Tuco Tokkos (D) (10-3-0, 3 FWS)
Striking: I frankly have no clue who the better striker is here, Sy has a longer reach and that could assist in his striking, but it’s a double debut, I won’t actually know until the fight happens.
Wrestling/Grappling: What I am confident in when it comes to wrestling is the fact that Sy is going to look for takedowns, that’s his bread and butter, he loves getting those takedowns, locking in a body lock or a getting his hooks in, and raining down blows from above, he is vicious once he is able to maintain a ground and pound position.
Cardio: Tokkos is coming in on short notice, so he probably doesn’t have the gas tank for a full blown fight, so expect him to come out swinging in the first round, but after that, it should mostly be Sy being the fresher fighter, considering he’s done all the cardio and conditioning training.
Prediction: Sy via KO R1 (2/3)
Lightweight
Tom Nolan (-450) (6-1-0, NS) v Victor Martinez (+340) (13-5-0, NS)
Striking: The main attraction for Nolan is his striking, he is a dangerous boxer who has a sneaky strong left hand, and Martinez tends to leave that side exposed when he retreats or circles away, which makes Nolan and his reach advantage a bit of a dangerous combination. Martinez is great on the feet too, but he’s been hurt before and is a bit susceptible to follow up shots, something Nolan does well also.
Wrestling/Grappling: I think Nolan is well rounded enough to have the edge in wrestling here, but I only say that before I haven’t seen Martinez grapple yet… so Nolan probably has the advantage here.
Cardio: Tough one to tell… I’m gonna keep it safe and say its possible even, but since both fighters are finishers, I don’t know if it matters too much.
Prediction: Nolan via KO R1 (2/3)
Main Card
Women’s Strawweight
Angela Hill (#12) (-160) (16-13-0, NS) v Luana Pinheiro (#13) (+130) (11-2-0, NS)
Striking: Hill is overall the better and more competent striker, as well as the more pace effective one, whereas Pinheiro is only known for that R1 KO power kind of striking style, so I do think Hill has the advantage here, plus, her Muay Thai is fun to watch so keep an eye on those fun clinch strikes!
Wrestling/Grappling: This is Pinheiro’s only way to win, she’s a very good grappler with awesome throws in her arsenal, but we have been seeing Hill do well at avoiding a lot of the throws that her opponents attempt, her whizzer is fairly good and her instincts to get back to the feet are great. Advantage still falls to Pinheiro here, but Hill shouldn’t be underestimated with her grappling and wrestling.
Cardio: Given that Hill has been in 5 round fights before, and that she rarely fades even after a 3 round war, I think she has the better cardio here, and I mean, we just saw Pinheiro absolutely gas out when she fought Ribas, so there’s that.
Prediction: Hill via UD (1/3)
Bantamweight
Adrian Yanez (-350) (16-5-0, 2 FLS) v Vinicius Salvador (+275) (14-6-0, 2 FLS)
Striking: Yanez has the cleaner boxing, he is awesome at angling away and firing away outside of his opponents effective cone of attack. He could perhaps be in trouble if he gets too reckless and starts hanging around in the pocket too much, but if he’s sticking and moving, he has the advantage here… so, I suppose the advantage is circumstantial but Yanez should be the more effective striker.
Wrestling/Grappling: I mean, since Yanez doesn’t grapple, I’d be inclined to think that Salvador has the better wrestling here, but it kind of feels like a slightly irrelevant thing to talk about. Both fighters are mostly strikers so… this particular category doesn’t matter that much.
Cardio: Again, a tough one to figure out since both fighters are finishers somewhat. I do think Yanez has the ability to do well in all three rounds, but that’s about it.
Prediction: Yanez via KO R2 (1/3)
Welterweight
Ramiz Brahimaj (+170) (10-4-0, NS) v Themba Gorimbo (-205) (12-4-0, 2 FWS)
Striking: This is all Gorimbo here, since Brahimaj both has a massive reach disadvantage, and really is just a good grappler. Gorimbo is also coming off a KO win so that feeling of knocking someone out could be a feeling he might chase this weekend.
Wrestling/Grappling: I’m inclined to say it’s pretty even here, but there is concern on my end surrounding the injury of Brahimaj… is he able to wrestle and grapple as effectively as he could prior to the spinal injury? That will most likely be answered this weekend. Gorimbo is a great wrestler though, he’s solid on the ground and could effectively shut down any submission attacks Brahimaj tries to set up.
Cardio: Two years away, nursing an injury like what Brahimaj has been doing could hamper his cardio in some way. That’ll also be answered this weekend so at the moment, I suppose Gorimbo has better cardio, but still i’m not too confident in saying that.
Prediction: Gorimbo via KO R1 (2/3)
Co-Main Event
Welterweight
Khaos Williams (-125) (14-3-0, NS) v Carlston Harris (+105) (19-5-0, 2 FWS)
Striking: This is all Williams, he is an incredibly powerful striker who is so explosive… I do think he has the possibility of properly testing Harris’ chin this weekend, so keep an eye out on KO props for him.
Wrestling/Grappling: On the other end of this fight, you have Harris who has a grappling advantage and honestly needs to use his grappling in this fight or he’s probably going to eat devastating punches.
Cardio: It kind of depends on who executes their gameplan better… If Williams lands heavy punches and wears down Harris, Harris’s cardio could be seriously sapped. Same as if Harris grapples and removes the explosive output of Williams, it would only drain Williams’ cardio.
Prediction: Harris via Sub R2 (1/3)
Main Event
Featherweight
Edson Barboza (#14) (+125) (24-11-0, 2 FWS) v Lerone Murphy (-150) (13-0-1, 5 FWS FWS)
Striking: This is going to be a fantastic striking fight, first and foremost. You have the power and pure kickboxing technique of Barboza versus the brilliant boxing and fluidity of Murphy. I don’t think there’s a major advantage in this fight either way, we don’t quite know where the ceiling is for Murphy, but we do know that Barboza is one of the best strikers in the division.
Wrestling/Grappling: Whilst both fighters are mainly strikers, both fighters are also extremely good on the ground, with perhaps Barboza having a slight edge given his experience in MMA compared to Murphy who has only recently added some strong wrestling into his skill set.
Cardio: I know that age is a factor here, but I believe Barboza going 5 rounds against Yusuff is proof that he has good enough cardio to push a serious and consistent pace into the championship rounds. We don’t know if Murphy can do that just yet, i guess we’ll find out in this phenomenal main event!
Prediction: Barboza via UD (1/3)
Primary Parlay: Ducote/Demopoulos o2.5 or GTD + (optional Gatto/Vidal o2.5 or GTD) + Nolan/Martinez ITD + Hill/Pinheiro o2.5 or GTD + Barboza/Murphy R3 Starts
Locks of the week: Optional Sy + Nolan + Gorimbo
Alt Bets: Alves KO R1, Pinheiro Sub R2 or 3, Williams KO R1, Murphy KO R1 2 or 3 (combo rounds)
And that's it!
Prediction accuracy as of 2024: 64.6%
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I hope you all have an amazing day, look after yourselves, and enjoy this awesome event!

There is CKD in my family. For some reason the doctors won't test me and just keep ignoring me on this..
Do you know how common excess magnesium is from supplementation and if kidney problems are more likely?
Other than this, nothing seems to be wrong with the function based on basic "kidney function" tests..
I was taking magnesium but not high, so why would it be high? I tend to be deficient in most things which I am seeking answers on too.
I was taking about 400mg daily at first then for a long time was only taking 200 or 100 every day or second day then had a gap of months before my blood test. That's only 118% then 59% then 39% of the RDA.
And regardless, how would I take or maintain a vitamin D absorption combo if I obviously need or should stop the supplementary magnesium? So I guess it really really isn't meant to happen with supplements..?
The levels are not sky high but are high so I'll be keeping an eye on it. But it seems even a multivitamin could cause this if I take one.

UNMARKED SPOILERS BELOW, I will sadly go into spoiler territorry so often the post would look like a bad SCP Foundation article if I tried to black out every single one.
First thing I thought upon finding out about the Wizard Three in Sigil was to notice an opportunitty to include more iconic characters. As we learned more about their role I noticed several complaints about them. Like, "why are we having epic level NPCs relegating the work to mid-level party"? Or "isn't Tasha evil? What is she doing here?" Or "how the hell did Kas fool Tasha, who knows Mordekainen very well?". And so an idea to fix these issues all at once presented itself to me.
In this version of adventure, the PCs are summonned not by Wizard Three, but Wizard Nine. Nine iconic, high-level wizards or other magic users from across D&D worlds or even beyond. They were all summonned to Sigil, to each tap into one of Outer Planes of appriopriate aligment and channel that power into Wish, so the Will of the entire multiverse wishes of Vecna's death. Once it fails, the wizards realize it means one of them must nto be who they claim, possibly an agent of Vecna. So they immediatelly lock themselves in Sanctuary - only PCs can enter and leave because they weren't i nthe room doing the casting of that super Wish. And every time they return with next piece of the Rod, they find Wizards in most disfunctional game of Among Us ever, often probably erupting into violence - this is nine geniuses working AGAINST each other as everyone suspects everyone.
Now, you could keep the original reveal, where Mordekainen is the imposter. If you do, I would advocate against bringing any magic users who know him, like Tasha, Elminster, Storm Silverhand or Dalamar the Dark. If you decide to change the imposter's identity, you can happily bring in some of them, but I would avoid those who know each other (so if you want Elminster, then no Mordekainen or Dalamar).
Evil characters can work with this group because of several reasons, which they should be open about. They may vary from "You think I don't realize Vecna is going to screw ME over alongside everyone else", through "uppity gods need to be put in their place, especially this one" to "I would love what the guy is promising to do to all creation, but I'm not bending my knee to NOBODY!".
Below is a list of proposed characters to use from as many worlds I could think of. I will be comign back to this post to add more names and more worlds with further research, potentially going even beyond strictly D&D settings. You ca drop your own suggestions, I will happily add them to the list with next edit. All requirements are that the character is able to cast 9th level spells, if you have any notes for potential DM willing to use them, please provide them as well.
Eberron - I noticed most of suggestions for Eberron are of evil variety, due to the setting's lack of high-level heroic NPCs (with two exceptions that cannot leave their seats of power), but we'll work with what we have

• Mordain the Fleshweaver is the most popular suggestion, being a rare Chaotic Evil 18th level Wizard in Eberron. An issue is that Mordain is often used, and even recommended by Keith Baker to be used as Eberron's stand-in for Vecna. If you wanna run adventures with Hand or Eye of Vecna in Eberron, they are hand and Eye of Mordain. This may disqualify him, but you could alternatively play into it. Have Mordain rant Vecna is "ripping him off" or call the lich "a pale immitation of true dark sorcery".
• Hektula is Keith Baker's personal choice for a standin for Tasha. She is a pwoerful Rakshasa Archmage, with passion for collecting forbidden tomes of dark magic, serving one of the Overlords and firmly Lawful Evil. I certainly could see some laughs when wizards realize there's an impostor among them and all eyes turn towards Hektula, who goes "Of course, blame the shapeshifter!".
• I have seen floated idea for Sora Kell or her three daughters. The Daughters canonically in 3rd edition had levels 10 or 11 on top of being half-fiend Hags. You could maybe handwave that they get to cast 9th level spells as a coven, Sora Kell is more ambigious, with no statblock and her lore giving vibes of Baba Yaga, fans compare her to Demon Lords in power level. Personally I feel she would stand out too much.

Exandria (Critical Role) - I noticed most Exandria characters don't reach this high level - even Circle of Brass from Calamity were level 15. However, I found two options to provide a bit of fanservice for any critters at your table, both Chaotic Good:

• the Mighty Nein Reunion got us level 20 versions of Caleb Widogast, so he's great excuse for a DM to do their best Liam O'Brian impression of angsty bi diseaster wizard who really wishes he was back with his boyfriend, instead of being trapped here with all those asshole wizards.
• Not a wizard but a Bard, but if you want to bend a defintion a bit, Scanlan Shorthalt could be pulled out from a moment in time before he lost an ability to cast Wish. Considering this happens in final episode of Campaign 1 and their final enemy was Vecna, it would be thematically appriopriate.

Krynn (Dragonlance)

• Raistlin Majere is by FAR msot iconic character of the entire Dragonlance, the go to if you want to include an iconic Dragonlance character. Dragonlance Saga 15 anniversarry lists his aligment as Neutral, while 3rd edition book Legends of the Twins lits him as a Neutral Evil - the latter is after he becomes master of Time and Present and so powerful enough to be included.
• Dalamar the Dark - after Raistlin's demise, Dalamar was touted as new most powerful wizard, he was paired with Mordekainen and Elminster to form original Wizard Three. He is also listed as Neutral Evil, but I would argue he could be Lawful Evil.
• Fistandantilus - the greatest wizard before Raistlin, he is also Neutral Evil, but I woudl argue he's more CHaotic Evil, due to his tendency to backstab other wizards to steal their power. I honestly cannot see this guy working in this adventure, he seems like he would try to bodyjack someone and get 8 Desintegrates to the face.
• Phalin Majere - if you want a good-aligned representative of Krynn, Raistlin's nephew, Phalin is basically a magical prodigy and chosen one and firmly Lawful Good. The issue may be that it may be hard to find a time where he is powerful enough to be here, but before Wizard magic on Krynn went away (because all Gods, including Gods of magic, f*ed off to space and then had the whole planet stolen from under their noses) and he had to reclass to Sorcerer, starting all the way from the bottom.

Magic the Gathering - there are many worlds in this franchise, but they're often very shallow, so I will group this stuff together.

• My first pick would be Liliana Vess, originally from Dominaria, nowadays hanging out on Arcavios, home world of Strixheaven. Strixheaven book lists her as true neutral, and she has a history full of twists and turns where this character development from original evil could be justified. Personality-wise she could be the easiest quick replacement for Tasha, even if you don't feel like putting in the whole group of nine wizards. Also if you have player bringign back a Curricullum of Chaos PC for this game I can only imagine their jaw drop upon seeing "Provesso Vess" among greatest wizards in the Multiverse, snarking at all of them.
• Teferi Akosa, originally from Dominaria, now his homeland of Zalfir became a separate plane. He was always extremely powerful, what if accidentially phasing his whole country out of time and space, he was always heroic and good intended, but often prone of getting unwaranted suspictions from others, which makes him good for this kind of plot.
• From Ravnica we could pull either Jace Beleren or the dragon-mage Niv-Mizzet, during their respective time as the Living Guildpact, representative of all 10 Guilds of Ravnica. In this position their could fit well for neutral-aligned places of aligment chart, Jace leaning towards Neutral Good or Lawful Neutral somewhat more.
• Speaking of Dragons, here is a crazy idea - Nicol Bolas, one of greatest villains in Magic as Chaotic Evil representative. Okay, it may be not a good idea, I cannot imagine a situation where he doesn't try to hijack the plot and take Vecna's place or just kill everyone when the problem of potential traitor arises. Still, the idea of this really evil demigod-drgon being his petty, snarky self towards other iconic characters is kinda funny.
• For a reach more into Magic's past, we have Urza, original protagonist. He would fit well into Lawful Neutral or even Lawful Evil role, considering last time he dedicated himself to stop multiversal-level threat, original Phyrexia, his means quickly "begun resembling Phyrexian ends". This is the guy who honestly tried to outeugenics a wizard nazi "for greater good". Seriously, so much of Magic lore can be summed up with words "Local Man Ruins Everything" and picture of Urza.
• A different type of Magic candidate is Jodah, ultrapowerful Archmage who is not a planeswalker like others, but had often maneuver around them, so he is used to having to outsmart powerful people. He represents all colors of mana so he would fit for any of middle collum positions.
• Jodah old associate, Jaya Ballard, could also work very well, considering she did eventually ecame so powerful some planes confused her with a diety and established religions to her. She strikes me as a Neutral Good candidate.

Mystara - one of my beloved classic worlds, poses an issue because it never conformed to classic 9-types aligment, isntead opting for lawful (defined as "altruistic") and chaotic ("selfish"). A rare exception, 2e book Glantri: Kingdom of Magic, was a big help here.

• Prince Haldemar of Haaken - protagonist of series of short stories "Voyage of Princess Ark". Daring explorer, captain of flying ship Princess Ark, hero of Empire of Alphatia. Champions of Mystara describes him as good and heroic but having "typical Alphatian chaotic thendencies". As such I'd lean towards Chaotic Good or Neutral Good.
• Bargle the Infamous - Chaotic Evil, if D&D ever had something close to the Joker, it was Bargle. Bargle was originally an evil wizard who kills mentolove interest of the player in introductory adventure of Red Box, but this made him enemy #1 of whole generations of players and elevated to first iconic evil wizard. I would be wary of using him, as any D&D veteran or grognard may forget about Vecna in favor of trying to strangle the guy with his bare hands.
• Demetrion Karagentreropolus - most powerful Archmage in Empire of Thyatis (think: fantasy Roman Empire), he is of lawful aligment and described as sometiems working secretly to undermine Emperor's decisions that he finds to be bad for the Empire and its people. As such he could slot as Lawful Good.
• Empress Eriadna the Wise of Alphatia - current Empress of Alphatia, canonically of Neutral aligment, she rules msot powerful empire in the world and probably haven't conquered all of it only because her subjects care more for magical research and getting high. She's 80-years old.
• Prince Zandor - 40-years old son of empress Eriadna, described as "chaos personified", his aligment is "Chaotic (very)". Thanks to Mr. Welch it became popular to play him as wizard version of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. Use him if you want a comic relief.
• Master Terari - former Emperor of Alphatia, he abdicated in favor of Eriadna and disappeared, he now runs magic school in a small kingdom of Karameikos, he is working to ascend to Immortality (basically godhood without calling it so).
• Principalities of Glantri have multiple Princes of various all kinds of aligment. The country got 2e book which gave them classic aligment., I will list them below, but two I would avoid are Eitienne d'Amberville and Jaggar von Drachenfels, since they are actually Immortals (Rad, patron of magic and Diamond,, discount Bahamut, respectively). Immortals officially aren't Gods, but this is often a distinction without difference, so I cannot see them showing up in Sigil without Lady of Pain nuking the whole building.
• Princess Carnelia de Belcadiz y Fedorias (Lawful Neutral, extremely beautiful, known for her horrible temper) and Princess Carlotina Erewan ((LG, basically discount Galadriel) rule two Elven principalities, the latter rules more traditional Elves, the former's subjects are...Spanish Elves. Yes, really. They do not like each other.
• On the evil side we have Prince Morphail Gorevitch-Woszlany (wizard Nosferatu, which is like Vampire with less weaknesses, he's Strahd on steroids), Princess Dolores Hilsbury (actually a Night Dragon, undead dragon-shaped mosnter, in disguise) and Prince Brannart McGregor (lich, he's actually from real-world Scotland, I kid you not). All three are Chaotic Evil and hide their true nature, though considering Morphail looks like he walked out of set of Dracula, they aren't trying very hard.
• Rounding Glantri princes we have Prince Jherek Virayana (Neutral, master of illusions, he deflected to Glantri from their mortal enemies, Ethengar Khanates, so he is used to being under suspiction for treachery) and Prince Harald Haaskinz (LG, he's kinda new guy in the club).

Oearth (Greyhawk)

• I don't want to spend much time on Oerth since I suspect anyone using this will use either Mordekainen and/or Tasha, who are already in the module. But some alternatives could be any of wizards who have spells named after them - Bigby is neutral, Tenser is Lawful Good, Leomund is Lawful Neutral or Lawful Good, Nystrul is Neutral, Rary is Neutral Evil

Toril (Forgotten Realms)

• Alustriel was already included. She and her five sisters (not counting Dove Silverhand, who is a Ranger and a Ghost) all fit similair role as "big good immortal sorcerress". With exception of Alassra Silverhand a.k.a. Simbul the Witch-Queen, who is Chaotic Neutral, they're all Chaotic Good, so I see little point switching Alustriel for another one if you want CG spot to be fit by someone from Toril. I would also be wary of using Storm Silverhand, who, according to Ed Greenwood, helped real Mordekainen recover after his role in Curse of Strahd and has a "friends with benefits" relationship with him.
• Elminster is also Chaotic Good, I don't get why WotC shy away from using him. I get he is controversial, but his exclusion has been kinda awkward here. They really don't think Kas can fool Elminster, but he can fool Tasha? As far as I know only one of them slept with Mordekainen, like come on! Anyway, if you want to use him, Elmisnter is also Chaotic Good, so kinda redundant with other Choosen of Mystra.
• Larloch the Shadow-King or Szass Tam could each work as a powerful lawful evil lich, that allies with the good guys out of spite against interloper god that dared throw their weight around and claim godhood over THEIR world. Larloch in particular is no stranger of going against gods and their servants, who seek to rewrite rules of magic that is basic of his power - just ask Shar and her servants at Shade Enclave.
• While characters from Baldur's Gate 3 end their adventure around 13th level, Book Minsc & Boo's Journal of Villain contains statblocks of multiple characters from previous two games. Edwin Odesserion, infamous Red Wizard of Thay, is among them, powerful enough to fit in the group.

Domains of Dread (Ravenloft) - I put this one last because of unique use we could have out of Domaind of Dread in this campaign. You see, we know that characterstrapped in Demiplane of Dread cannot leave that easily, they need Dark Powers' permission. And Dark Powers are backing up Kas. I have also seen multiple complaints how both main antagonists of this campaign - Vecna nad Kas - are absent from most of it, with many ideas being thrown around about having Kas as an active rival that competes for pieces of the Rod. It occured to me that he may play that role, while we still have an impostor - another character trapped in Demiplane of Dread could be working with Kas and the Dark Powers in exchange for their freedom. This way we could even allow PCs to sherlock holmes who the traitor is between collecting different pieces of the Rod, and still can have Kas show up with hordes of monsters to steal the Rod later. All that matters is they do not impersonate a character of the same aligment. Here are some candidates for this role:

• from Forgotten Realms, we could reach for semi-official suppliment minsc and Boo's Journal of Villainy, written by lead writer of first two Baldur's Gate games. It suggests an alternate fate for main villains of Baldur's Gate II - Jon Irenicus and his sister Bodhi - that places them in Demiplane of Dread, leading their own evil cult working towards their escape. He is neutral evil, she is Chaotic Evil
• From Mystara we have Meredoth, main antagonist of classic Ravenloft module Ship of Horrors, condemned to Demiplane of Dread afre his negligence caused his subjects to die of starvation. TWICE!. He is cursed to be unable to discover new magic on his own and having to steal knowledge, so he would be itching, as a mole, to steal from other eight wizards in the room. He's Chaotic Evil.

That's for now, but rest assured, I shall be returning to this post to update it with more characters, potentially more campaign worlds even. Your suggestions whom to add are always welcome.

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” said Tamara, becoming frustrated with Samuel.
“I'm trying to tell you that plants do not eat earth. They just absorb nutrients from it,” Samuel replied, equally annoyed as this was the fourth time he had explained it. “Look, just take my word for it, OK,” he added.
“Fine, but you will have to explain it again,” Tamara retorted.
Samuel and Tamara were partners in a scientific study of their forest home. It was genuinely idyllic in every sense of the word; the trees stretched high into the sky, and everyone was covered in succulent leaves, a deep and gorgeous shade of green. Around their trunks were rings of flowers gathered from every continent, and a thick carpet of grass lay on the ground.
The two sat underneath a chestnut tree, writing up their findings for the day. It had focused mainly on tree sizes and growth rates, and they had continued this study for, on and off, almost a year.
Samuel turned to look at his assistant and found that she was just as remarkable as the day they had first met: golden locks, like living sunlight, tied neatly in a bun. Her eyes were an emerald green, and all in all, she was gorgeous. However, it was when you came to her waist that things became truly incredible because rather than a pair of legs, there was a long and wide snake’s tail.
It was huge, at least seven metres long and as wide as her torso. The scales were the same beautiful colour as her hair and reflected the sunlight in such a way that she appeared to glow. She was wearing an ultramarine tunic with a black diamond in the centre. She was like this not because of a plague, a curse or some mutation; Tamara was a Lamia; it was how she was born.
Samuel, on the other hand, looked far less impressive. He was around five foot ten, with dull brown hair and equally dull eyes. His stomach stuck out from the rest of him. No amount of exercise was able to get rid of it.
He was by every description a ‘dull as dishwater’ human. His clothes, however, were slightly more interesting. He wore a navy blue tunic with a thick leather belt wrapped around his waist. On his feet was a pair of excellent leather boots, able to withstand whatever the world threw at them and on his forearms and shins, he wore something Tamara had never seen or even heard of before: a pair of vambraces and greaves, Samuel called it armour.
Three strips of rugged leather layered on top of one another made up each piece, and between each layer was a collection of tiny metal beads. When Tamara asked what they were for, Samuel said they were for protection.
All of this would have been inconceivable to Samuel two years ago, but he had become used to it in time. Samuel was not born into this world; he had arrived. How? He did not know, but he remembered it all vividly; his senses had been overloaded, and at first, he believed he had died.
“What’s wrong?” Tamara asked Samuel, who had been silent for over a minute.
Samuel snapped out of his daydream and said: “nothing, just thinking about that day again.”
Tamara nodded and said nothing else; she knew exactly what was wrong.
Samuel went straight back to writing. When Samuel first showed up, there had been no paper or pens, but what was even stranger than the lack of these apparent necessities was that Samuel had had to invent both of these items.
Tamara and those like her did not possess a written language; they relied entirely on their memories, and until Samuel had shown up, Tamara had not even conceived of the notion, but she had picked it up astonishingly quickly.
“It still sounds like eating to me,” said Tamara, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
“Well, it isn’t; eating requires a mouth and stomach,” Samuel replied.
“Says who?” Tamara asked defiantly.
“Says me,” Samuel answered.
Samuel jotted down the last of his notes and left the pages to dry in the sun. Samuel then turned to his right and looked at a large book, the size of a chair’s seat, bound in yellow leather and knotted by animal tendons. He picked it up and began to leaf through the pages.
His eyes glanced over paragraphs about oak trees and orchid flowers until he finally reached the section he sought; the page was titled Silver Birch (Betula Pendula).
“Have you finished the drawing on Silver Birch yet?” Samuel asked without looking.
Tamara was currently focused on a drawing of sunflowers, but she understood his request and, without looking up or saying a word, handed him the picture he wanted.
Samuel took the drawing and took several moments admiring it. Like all her work, the picture was astounding; not only did it look like an actual Silver Birch, but it also seemed to be alive, as though it would start blowing in the breeze.
Samuel punched four holes along the sheet's left side, undid the tendon strings and then attached the drawing behind the title page. He added eight more pages to his book, four of text and four illustrations.
Their work was now done; there was no more writing or drawing today, and he placed their work into a knapsack Tamara had brought with her. Samuel turned to his partner and asked: “so what do you want to do now?”
Tamara looked up through the canopy and could make out the silhouettes of several birds and finally said: “I’d quite like to fly.”
Samuel smiled, chuckled and said, “Yes, so would I, but that would require every member of the village working together for decades.”
Tamara looked Samuel in the eye and said: “are you making fun of me?”
Samuel did not reply; he just looked Tamara dead in the eye. She observed every minute twitch on Samuel's face and concluded he was not.
“How could a person fly?” She asked, suddenly intrigued.
“I don’t know, I’m not an engineer,” Samuel answered, “So apart from flying, what else do you want to do?”
Tamara let out a sigh and said: “I guess we will just have to walk.”
These were the moments Samuel lived for, just a quiet afternoon with his best friend enjoying a stroll; he was utterly content.
“You seem chipper,” Tamara said, noticing the growing smile on Samuel’s face.
“That’s because I feel chipper” he replied
They passed through the trees, heading towards their favourite spot, a beach by the side of a lake so large you could not see the other side.
“So, how is everyone?” Samuel said, trying to spark a conversation.
“You mean every single one because that could take a while?” Tamara replied.
“Let’s start with your mother” he clarified.
Tamara’s mother, Pancha, was more or less just a larger version of her daughter, just as brash and headstrong.
“She’s fine; she has finally stopped asking me what happened every time I come to meet you,” she said.
“Really, and it only took her two and a half years,” said Samuel with a smirk.
Yes, that first year here, had been a real trial. Samuel had never felt so scared, isolated and persecuted in his life. When he thought about it, he could still feel the fear and the hopelessness.
A gust of air slammed into Samuel’s face, bringing him back to the present, and what a wonderful time it was. The water was crystal clear, the beach was covered in sparkling white sand, and the distinct aroma of water wafted through the air. Samuel breathed it all in as Tamara spread herself over the beach.
The cooling breeze that Samuel found so enjoyable, Tamara found far less agreeable. Tamara was ectothermic or cold-blooded. She could not maintain her body temperature; she needed to absorb it from her environment, and the wind was slowly draining her.
“Comfortable down there?” Samuel asked.
Tamara turned her head, looked up at him and said: “Actually, yes, not as good as my bed, but still fine.”
Samuel left Tamara to her thermoregulation and strolled down to the water’s edge, “stay where I can see you!” Tamara called.
“Yes, MOM,” Samuel answered sarcastically, though he knew it was more for Tamara’s sake than his; she had a problem with open spaces.
Samuel closed his eyes, stretched his arms above his head, feeling his muscles strain against the tension, and yawned. Small tears formed in his eyes and wiped them away. He had only been up for a few hours but was ready for bed.
“Too much thinking, that was the problem,” Samuel mumbled to himself.
The sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface. It seemed as though millions of diamonds were suddenly brought into existence, danced for a few moments, and then vanished as quickly as they came. It was beautiful, just like everything else here.
He climbed up a rock that jutted from that sand and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. As he kicked his legs, a ray of sun caught his greaves, and although the leather was rather dull, it still dazzled him.
Samuel heard a sound reminiscent of sandpaper brushing against wood, and he knew at once what it was. He waited four more seconds and said, without moving an inch, “Don’t even think about it!”
“How did you know?” Tamara asked, feeling simultaneously impressed, confused and disappointed.
Samuel looked her in the eye and replied: “who do you think you’re dealing with?”
Tamara had not clambered up the rock like Samuel; she had simply raised herself on her tail so she stood over two metres high.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
Tamara smiled and answered, “yes, thanks for asking.”
Tamara moved behind Samuel and then began to coil around the boulder, and if he had not experienced it all before, it would have been unnerving. Tamara was only twelve and a half, yet she was already far stronger than him. Samuel was sure if Tamara really wanted to, she could crush a bison to death. After the graceful dance around the stone, she sat down beside Samuel.
The pair was silent for a few minutes, except for a quick coughing fit by Samuel; they took in the unnatural beauty of their surroundings.
“Hey, I have a question,” said Tamara, coming back to her senses.
“What is it?” Samuel replied.
“You still haven’t told me why we are studying the forest?” She asked.
In an instant, Samuel became deeply confused. To him, it seemed all too obvious why they were doing it.
“There is no practical reason for doing it. We do it so that we know,” Samuel answered.
Tamara became silent. Samuel realised that she was deep in thought and decided to give her all the time she needed until she finally said: “Is this one of those human things?”
Samuel, upon hearing this, gave a small chuckle and answered: “yes, if you like.”
Suddenly, something caught Samuel’s eye. It was a crab, no bigger than a golf ball. Its back was powder blue, and it held its arms upright, its claws pointing down. The tiny creature would walk forward, scoop some sand into its mouth, and then leave a small pellet behind.
“Look at that!” said Samuel, nudging Tamara’s shoulder and pointing at the tiny crustacean. Tamara turned her head and looked directly at where he was pointing; she strained her eyes at what she thought was a pebble; she was about to climb down and collect it when it suddenly moved, and she squealed.
Tamara dragged the bottom end of her tail up from the beach and timidly said, “What’s that?”
Samuel remembered that tone of voice all too well, and it brought with it some unpleasant memories, but he pushed them to the back of his mind and said: “it’s a crab.”
Samuel was certain he had seen this type of crab before but could not put a name to the image. Samuel was sure he had read about them, watched a documentary, or attended a lecture, but he could not remember. Ultimately, he decided to drop it for now and see if the answer would come to him.
Tamara kept staring at it as though she believed it would pounce if she took her eyes off it for one second.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked, her voice hushed to ensure the creature did not notice her.
Samuel sighed and answered: “it’s a crab, Tamara, unless you happen to be a nematode then…”
Samuel paused mid-sentence as his brain finally connected the dots and asked, “Wait, you have never seen a crab before?”
This perplexed Samuel for a moment until he remembered that Tamara did not have a television, a car, and she could not fly a plane, so it was not unexpected that she would not know what a crab was.
Tamara shook her head in response to his question, and Samuel added: “you know what a woodlouse is, right?”
Tamara nodded and said, “I like woodlice.”
“Well, a crab is just a type of woodlouse that lives near water,” Samuel concluded.
However, he could tell from her face that she was unconvinced, so he got off the rock, walked over to the tiny creature, wary of its pincers, and picked it up by its backside.
“What are you doing?” Tamara called in alarm.
Samuel held the animal, its legs flailing wildly in an attempt to escape, and said, “showing you there is nothing to be worried about.”
Taking care not to crush it, Samuel clambered back up the rock and presented the animal to her. Tamara stared at it for some as the crab bobbed its eye up and down and tried in vain to find a part of Samuel it could nip.
“It’s actually kind of… cute,” Tamara said after two minutes of silence.
She relaxed her tail and let it rest on the beach once more. “Can it hold it?” She asked Samuel, fear being replaced by interest.
“Of course, you can. Just make sure you hold it by its back and be careful of the pincers; if they get you, it will hurt.”
Samuel handed the crab over to her and watched as Tamara began to inspect the animal from every angle. The crab had a white underbelly and purple joints.
“You think you could draw it from memory?” Samuel asked.
“Hmm?” Tamara replied. Samuel let out a sigh and repeated. After three more attempts, Tamara finally took notice and said, “Yes.”
Five minutes later, Samuel said, “we should probably put him back now.”
Tamara moaned about it, but Samuel said: “he has his own life, Tamara; you can’t keep him!”
She conceded, grumbling under her breath, and gently placed the animal back on the sand. As the crab dashed away, the two noticed that while they had been fixated on that single crab, thousands more had emerged on the beach.
Upon seeing the swarm of animals make their way across the beach, Tamara let out a squeal and once again pulled her tail up off the beach. The army of crabs marched along the shore. The collective walking produced a sound loud enough to hear from fifty metres away, and at last, Samuel remembered what they were and said, with no small amount of satisfaction in his voice, “they’re soldier crabs.”
“What are they going to do?” Tamara asked, concerned by the sudden appearance of so many creatures.
Samuel kept staring at the gathering, but he heard her question and replied, “They’re just feeding,” and added quickly, “But we are far too big for them.”
“That's odd,” Samuel said under his breath.
“I know there are so many of them,” Tamara said, deeply unnerved by the sheer vastness of the swarm.
“No,” Samuel said, “There should be this many of them; it’s where they are that is strange.”
Tamara momentarily took her eyes off the army and asked, “So where should they be.” There was a slight flicker of fear in her voice at the prospect of being invaded; rats and mice where bad enough. They did not need another pest.
“By the sea, not a freshwater lake,” he answered.
“The Sea?” Tamara almost yelled. Samuel was a little surprised by this enthusiasm and turned to face her.
“Yes,” he said.
“Have you ever been to the sea,” she asked.
“Yes, many times,” Samuel said, uncertain where this was going.
“I bet it’s wonderful,” Tamara added with a smile.
Samuel was silent as his brain connected a few dots and asked: “how can you know about the sea if you don’t know about crabs?”
She smiled; Tamara enjoyed it when she knew something that he did not, “there is a story that my mom told me that before we came to this forest, we were a different people that lived by the sea.” Tamara paused for a breath.
“But then humans came and drove us from the water, and we fled inland. Our people split into two. One half went to the mountains, and the other settled in the forest.”
Tamara finished and waited for his reply. Samuel, however, just kept looking at her. Tamara was concerned that she had upset him; he did not like it when humans were labelled as the enemy, yet his face and posture were not those of one who was sad or angry.
“You people blame us for everything, don’t you?” Samuel said with a chuckle.
“If there is a fire, it’s a human’s fault. If there is an earthquake, it’s a human’s fault. If a little Boreray boy drinks all their apple juice in one gulp, it’s a human’s fault.”
“So, getting back on topic, where did these “Soldier crabs” come from anyway? We have visited this lake for over two years and never seen even a glimpse?” Tamara asked. Samuel looked back to the slowly advancing army, and several ideas flashed through his head.
“Maybe they have been dormant up until now; perhaps they make a large circle around the lake shore, and it’s simply luck that we were here on the day they passed by, or maybe the migrated here from somewhere else.”
They watched the crabs' ceaseless march until Tamara said, “These things are still giving me the creeps. Can we go now?” Samuel could not argue that there was something eerie about all of these animals appearing, seemingly, from nowhere; however, there was still one thing he had to be certain of.
“You think you could draw one from memory?” he asked.
Tamara’s face contorted in a scowl. Samuel, for all his good points, could become far too focused on his research, which often caused him to become ignorant of other people.
Yet she knew sitting here yelling at him would accomplish nothing, so she told him the truth: “Yes, can we go now!” Samuel nodded and then slid off the rock. Tamara copied him, and they both slinked back to the cover of the trees.
Now that she was beneath the canopy, Tamara let out an enormous sigh of relief as the anxiety slowly left, and the close air warmed her body. On the other hand, Samuel began to chafe at the stagnant air while his head began to bead with sweat, but it was nothing he had not experienced before, so he gritted his teeth and bared with it.
With their plans now ruined, Tamara and Samuel wandered aimlessly through the woods, chatting about what they could do to fill the rest of the day. Several ideas arose, including visiting a nearby waterfall and a set of monument stones, but none truly appealed to them.
In the end, Tamara said, “how about we just call it a day?”
Samuel was happy about this. Tamara was his only form of human contact, yet he could not deny the pointlessness of wandering around the woods, so he said, “Ok, but let’s take the long way.”
Samuel heard a sound above him and saw a red squirrel scampering through the trees.
“Is it difficult?” Tamara asked.
Samuel looked at Tamara and replied, “Well, it can give me a crick in my neck sometimes.”
Tamara let out a short laugh and clarified, “No, I mean, is it difficult being so inquisitive? It looks exhausting.”
He was not entirely sure what she meant by that. To Samuel, Tamara was every bit as curious as him, so he stated: “you tell me, you went out looking for me just because you wanted to know.”
“True,” answered Tamara, “and everyone has always said that I am always asking questions, but you’re like a boar that just ate sugar beat.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Samuel said, shaking his head. “But I do know that people always told me, when I was a boy, that humans are, by their nature, infinitely curious, but personally, I think that it’s just how I was born.” there was a pause, and he quickly added, “just like you.”
Tamara’s fingers started to numb as she brushed them against the bark of passing trees. She took a good look at the trees around her. Tamara had lived her entire life sheltered by these trees. This place was her home, her family’s home and her friend’s home, and she loved it, a perfect example of the innate beauty of nature.
Samuel, however, was of a different opinion this forest disturbed him, though this feeling had diminished with time. The trees all grew in perfect symmetry, four and a half strides form each other.
From Tamara’s perspective, there was nothing strange about this, yet Samuel often said that this should not be possible, that the wood should be a mess and that the trees should grow in an unorganised fashion. Yet to Tamara, the idea of messy forests was just as impossible as a structured one was to him.
Noon came and went, and Samuel’s stomach began to rumble. His breakfast was becoming a distant memory; he thought he might be able to bear it for another hour or so, but as they travelled closer to the village, Tamara started to become irritated by Samuel’s constant growling.
“We need to find you something to eat before that sound drives me nuts!” Tamara stated bluntly.
“That’s all well and good, my dear, so long as you can materialise food out of the aether,” answered Samuel, with just a hint of condescension in his voice.
Tamara did not know what the aether was, but it did not matter. “No, but I do know a nearby tree with some great fruit in it,” she replied.
Samuel found this strange for two reasons. Firstly, he found it very difficult to believe there was a source of food in this forest that either he had not found, or Tamara had not told him about yet.
Secondly that, Tamara would know much about something she could not eat. Tamara was strictly carnivorous; she ate nothing but meat.
He wanted answers fast and asked: “So why haven’t you told me about this before?”
“Because I can’t stand the smell, that’s why, and I didn’t want you stinking up the place,” she explained.
“If it smells disgusting, what makes you think I will eat it?” he asked.
“Because the Boreray can’t get enough of it, some of them say that they taste like all the best parts of every fruit and vegetable we grow, which is a shame because they smell like all the worst,” she added.
He asked no more questions. He was too busy thinking; this fruit sounded so familiar, but he could not remember. The need to survive day in day out had pushed most of his standard learning, from school and university to the back of his mind, not forgotten mind you just buried.
I'm back with Tamara and Samuel latest adventure. If you like what you've read so far and want to know where it's going you can find the complete story by following the links below.
e-book(US/UK/CA/AU/DE)
Physical(US/UK/CA/DE)
If you do decide to read ahead please leave a review or rating, every single one helps immensely, and helps me keep doing what I'm doing.
Also the e-book will be at a reduced price until the last chapter it published on reddit.

Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Zildiz felt her exomorph go rigid as it lost contact with her central nervous system. Curse that wretched Leaper! She’d forgotten just how durable their physiologies were. Their exomorphs had three times as many backup systems as those of Gallivants, unsurprising given that they had to retain control over their complex musculature. She’d been a fool for thinking that merely cutting it in half would do the trick. The error would wind up costing her life in these next few moments unless she took drastic action.
She was blind—her helm and its sets of eyes had sustained catastrophic damage and left her soft innards exposed. Even worse, she was crippled, the exomorph’s augmented muscle fibers unresponsive to her nervous system's inputs. But perhaps she still had the sheer physical strength to swing her blades. Zildiz tried to flex her wrist and was rewarded by a vigorous twitch of her pinky finger. Just in time; she could hear the Leaper close by, the leaf litter crackling as it approached.
Not yet, she told herself. Just a little closer. Hands pawed at her face and tore off the remnants of her helmet, scraping the hemolymphic gel from her naked face. What the hell was it doing? Zildiz had to restrain herself from crying out and striking at the air in panic.
Not yet! It was a crime to interrupt a fool when he was digging his own grave. Zildiz lay perfectly still as the Leaper fiddled around with her exomorph, feeling helpless and violated as never before. Vowing to give the bastard a slow and painful death for this, she curled her hand into a fist and waited until she felt its fingers caress the surface of her innards. Letting out a scream of incoherent rage Zildiz thrust at her unseen enemy, heard a cry of pain and the Leaper stumbling away, swearing profusely.
“Ow! That hurt, you witch! What the blazes are you?” the Leaper cried out. Zildiz frowned. That hadn’t sounded like the croaking of a Leaper. Speaking a slow and halting fashion, she replied:
“I would ask you the same thing.”
“I am Rene Louvoture, assistant navigator, 9th Battalion, 3rd Pathfinder Regiment.”
Zildiz shook her head at the string of gibberish.
“I am Zildiz, of the Blade-Wings. Why haven’t you killed me?”
“Why would I?" said the voice, sounding both shaky and incredulous, “You’re just like me, aren’t you?”
“How so?”
“Open your eyes and see for yourself.”
Zildiz realized with a start that it was referring to the primitive ocular organs of her innards. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. The last time she’d been out of her exomorph was when she and Menash had been together, many cycles ago. With great effort her atrophied facial muscles remembered how to lift her eyelids, and she beheld a world of total darkness.
Bioluminescent growths from the surrounding vegetation gradually helped her to see with her naked eyes, and she beheld the prey-form standing over her with a hand clamped to its bleeding shin. Its albino exoskeleton was ripped and stained with blood. In its fist it clutched a short blade that emitted a constant, low hum. Zildiz propped herself up on her elbow and locked eyes with the creature. To her disgust she found that its exomorph had a completely transparent helm allowing her to see its bare face in all its lumpen hideousness. It had a head of curled black hairs, matted and moist like the growths on a Leaper’s belly. The prey-form’s flat, broad nose gave it a singularly pugnacious look, while its skin was as milk-white as that of a flesh-eating maggot’s. Zildiz dragged herself back, her first instinct being to recoil from it.
“Don’t move,” Rene advised her, “You’ve suffered some sort of spinal injury, I think. Can you feel your legs?”
“No,” Zildiz lied, thrusting out her chin at him defiantly, “What do you care?”
“I told you, I’m not about to kill you. We’re the same, can’t you see? Human!”
“We share the primal pattern, but I am a Gallivant. You are not. That is all that matters.”
“Right,” Rene sighed and sat down on the rotting log, “Whatever that means. Ye gods, I need a stiff drink right about now.”
Zildiz eyed him suspiciously, convinced it was some sort of ruse. He was just gauging how crippled she truly was and waiting for her to lower her guard. Very well; two could play at that game. In the meantime, she would try and work some feeling back into her exomorph.
“Are you really a hatchling?” she asked it suddenly.
“You heard that nonsense, did you?” Rene glanced up, “Of course not. I was just leading them on. The ‘fire giant’ isn’t a living creature, it’s a machine—a Divine Engine. What, don’t you have them wherever it is that you come from?” he joked, smiling at her. Zildiz grimaced at the sight, and he stopped.
“A machine,” she said slowly, “Like this one?”
Zildiz gestured at her disabled exomorph. Rene chewed over that piece of information. So that was what she was wearing: a living machine, a sealant suit of chitin and muscle equipped with weaponry and capable of flight. Like the Engine, it was a level of technology he hadn't even known could exist.
“Not exactly,” he finally replied, “I mean, it isn’t quite as revolting as yours. No offense,” he added quickly, snatching a quick glance at her face. She had a hawkish look about her, all thin lines and edges, but somewhere in there was a wild and timeless beauty which defied his attempts to pin down as some definable quality of womanhood.
“So you have been inside of it,” she confirmed with a look of satisfaction.
“I didn’t say that,” Rene stammered, feeling like he was losing the battle for information, “I merely observed it from a distance. I mean, the sheer size of it. Who wouldn’t have? You saw what I—what it—did to the Amit mound.”
Rene bit his lip, mentally kicking himself for his careless slip of the tongue. Zildiz narrowed her eyes at him, partly out of mistrust and partly due to the head-splitting migraine she was feeling. It had been so long since she’d been forced to rely on this basic sense organ, and its rods and cones were out of practice.
“The grey behemoth, this Divine Engine, as you call it. Did the Vitalus send it to cull the colony? Are you a Hollowore?”
“A Hull-of-War?” Rene repeated dimly.
"A Inkarnid? An Aspect of the All-In-One?"
“Look, I haven’t the foggiest notion what you’re talking about. And I’m the one asking questions here, don’t you forget it. Flame and perdition!” he swore, “You really nicked me, you know that?
Rene set his sword to aside and bent over to poke at the shallow stab wound on his shin. Zildiz chose that moment to burst into action. She was on her feet before he knew it, slicing at him with her blade arms. Rene yelped and rolled backwards off the log, narrowly avoiding dismemberment and flipping over nimbly to his feet, cursing himself for letting her gain the upper hand.
“Stop! Please, I don’t wish to hurt you!” he shouted at her as he ran circles around the dead tree, keeping it between himself and her wicked blades. Her movements were awkward and ponderous, as though her legs weren’t used to supporting the weight of her body. Scowling wrathfully, Zildiz kept after him as he jogged just out of her reach, the two of them playing a very earnest game of ring around the rosy. Finally Rene had enough and took up the club again, whacking her on the back of the knees so that she fell forward onto her hands. Her nose flattened itself against a pebble, producing an indescribable pain. She groaned and clutched at her face while Rene sat on her back to keep her pinned down.
“Sorry! Sorry! I really am. But it seems at this point to be abundantly clear,” Rene shouted as she flailed at him ineffectually with her blades, “That I have no other option but to take you in!”
“Just try and feed me to your brood, I dare you!” she screamed as blood trickled from her nostrils, “I’ll carve out their eyes and feed it to them!”
“What? No! That’s not it at all!” Rene cried, mortified, “As a soldier of the Fleet, I am hereby placing you under arrest as a hostile belligerent. Henceforth, you may consider yourself my prisoner of war!”
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

I’ve been using tretinoin cream 0.025% for about 2 ish months now, and I’m not purging anymore. Sandwiching with Cerave. My skin is looking better than ever and my hyperpigmentation is noticeably disappearing. But, I haven’t been applying it to my under eyes. I have dark circles and some fine lines/puffiness there that I’d like to get rid of. I’m using a retinol cream on my under eyes (about a month now) but not noticing much of a difference… so my question is—can I put tret on my under eyes? Google results say that it’s okay to use it there but I’m curious if anyone regularly applies it on the under eyes and if it’s made a difference, negatively or positively.

TLDR; After trying EVERYTHING I reduced stimulants to promote rest and digest and reduced sugar to limit bacterial infections Would like honorary phd for this ten year $100k research project “Fine” now 🥹 ?
Full story: I have had eczema since 8 months old. Cats and dust allergy and sweat/heat induced. It was no biggie. An antihistamine and the occasional topical OTC steroid cream - easy peasy.
Fast forward, I’m 24. I started getting really hot and red in my face. Can’t tolerate heat at all. My eczema was flaring non stop like crazy. Had it in places I never had before, eye lids, neck. Couldn’t sleep I was so itchy. Had restless leg wtf could only sleep every second day
Saved up for an allergist and started doing desensitisation treatments, bactroban in the nose, and the nurse secretly told me I could take up to 6 antihistamine pd and switch between a few brands
My skin got so bad the doctor wouldn’t let me have the injections anymore Doctor offered me lyrica and prednisone. I was so far gone the prednisone did NOTHING . They literally told me “I can’t help you anymore please don’t come back”
My skin was now flaking bad, like I was turning into sand. Scratch , weep, scab, flake, repeat. Folliculitis all over my legs. I was itchy every waking hour. I slept in a bathtub for 6 weeks getting 1 hour sleep while working full time wearing cream and barrier cream under full body bandages. Found out about TSW and related
Ended up in hospital with a golf ball sized boil in my eyebrow. IV antibiotics cleared up the infection but still itchy. Was told it was the type of antibiotic they don’t give out unless you’re about to die .
Finally saved up and waited 3 months to see a dermatologist. She said option 1. Cancer drugs (assuming an immunosuppressant?) 2. Light therapy
I chose 2. Not sure what it did but I got a nice tan I also tried EVERYTHING short of sacrificing small animals and children during an eclipse . Spent $$$$ laser hair removal, chiro, naturopath , special elixirs, creamssss , dottera, hcl tablet, bleach then peroxide baths, condys crystals, iron, avene, acupuncture, fungicide, silk sheets, plain tooth paste, shower water filter , digestive enzymes, magnesium, tar, charcoal poultice, drink clay powder, activated grains, keffir , blood type diet, psychology, relaxation , Chinese herbs, vitamins, shaman ritual with eagle feather (not joking). Taking showers scared me because of the excruciating pain of open wounds everywhere. Tried swimming in the ocean. Felt like being set of fire but I was wrong. Had a bath with a bit of tea tree oil. Ah, NOW I know what it feels like to be set on fire (creepily got itching relief from the pain Ala black mirror).
Nothing working So I quit literally everything I ate except 30 INGREDIENTS (1 water, 2 salt , etc) on the combined advice of three eczema books Eczema slowly improving Reduced it further to having nothing but one fruit smoothie per day for SIX MONTHS “because fruit is healthy” (and eating one celery stick was too depressing ). Somehow lost no weight . Was getting better but still red and hands still looked like dinosaur skin. I
An energy healer told me it was fruit. lol. Stopped eating the smoothies and skin was better in 1 week. Redness/heat tolerance didn’t improve. Still have restless leg
Flakes and infections came back every year. Back in hospital with another golf ball boil when I’m 30. Goes away Flares again a year later
Had emotional crisis and got Valium from doctor . Magically healed! Stop Valium (not a fan) Heat intolerance recurs. Frequent flare up Try medical cannabis . Fine for a while then I adapted again like the Borg
This year (I’m 34, with 1 year of a biomed degree under my belt) I hear about anticholinergic syndrome and relate. I quit drinking tea and coffee (rip ☠️ switched to chicory root) or taking antihistamines.
Redness going away Heat tolerance improving Eczema disappeared Been healthy??? for 6 weeks Wish me luck 🍀
Sorry this post is so long , tried to condense a 10 year journey of misery as short as possible. hope this helps someone

First Previous Wiki
Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."