Re: QUIETUS [S!5] [Round 1: Godsworn Valley]
01-03-2013, 03:49 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by One.
War.
Iceworlders were adapted for war even before they discovered the secrets of technology. Their homeworld was a harsh one, where shelter was scarce and food even scarcer. In eons past, roving iceworlder clans battled and fought one another for better hunting grounds or richer foraging territory. Conflict was frequent and unavoidable. This was darwinism at its finest. The weak perished; the strongest thrived. Those were the facts of life for many millions of years. The iceworlders remained individualistic, their petty feuds quickly tearing down any attempts towards unity.
True civilization would only arise as a result of necessity. The iceworlders were not the only sentient race on the planet. Formerly kept separate by geography, the race they called nharkoten began a mass migration into iceworlder territory. None could say why, only that they were threatening to drive the iceworlders themselves out. So it was for the first time in history that permanent alliances between the clans were forged. They were united by a single desire: the eradication of the invaders.
The nharkoten were wiped out utterly. In that brutal cross-species war was born the intense xenophobia characterizing iceworlders today. And when the iceworlders first traveled to the stars, they carried that xenophobia with them. Alien life must be destroyed because they aren't iceworlders. It was as simple as that. There might be other reasons--greed, imperialism, resources--but in the end it all boiled down to simple hatred of aliens.
Every human Arokht had laid his four eyes upon since his arrival here had triggered that killer instinct (especially the female who had been impudent enough to climb on top of him!). But this was the first time the armored giant could actually indulge in it.
Iceworlders do not charge very quickly, but their sheer mass gives them the impression of an approaching wall. They aren’t as fast as horses but they are large and heavy enough to simply smash through anything they don’t just trample underfoot. Their soldiers, meanwhile, have the added advantage of having huge guns attached to their arms.
The targeting computers in Arokht’s helmet leapt into action, calculating firing solutions and adjusting his aim to match. Generator bottles in the warrior’s subzero cannon whirred into life, powering the complicated firing mechanisms. A blue glow built in the weapon’s barrel and erupted into a beam of barely visible radiation that leached heat from everything it touched, aimed directly at the nearest Predator of Raxis.
The blast struck the black-armored soldier mid-leap, almost totally enveloping its head and torso. The thermal shock alone was enough to kill the Predator instantly and leave a thin layer of ice on its armor--freezing and rupturing every cell in its body struck by the beam in the process. It fell to the ground and shattered.
In a fraction of a second, its comrades processed its death and worked out a new battle plan. The coldbloods’ companion daemon became their new target. The extermination of the human worshippers could wait until they had dealt with the heavy support. With almost eerie coordination, the Predators fanned out, their augmented legs carrying them swiftly through the grass. As one, they drew their flechette rifles and fired, straight at the advancing beast.
A valiant effort, but futile. Arokht laughed as the tiny barbed spikes simply bounced off of his armor, even as he rushed towards the shooters. None of these humans could hurt an iceworlder! The flechettes, which would undoubtedly have been devastating against other humans (but hopefully not the one sitting on his back--he needed her), were utterly useless against the mammoth alien. He adjusted his aim and fired again, and again, and again.
Dropping like flies but not caring that they were, the Predators raced forwards. They had stopped shooting; what was the point? Shooting something immune to gunfire wasted ammo. Now, their best bet at taking down the beast was that it would be as clumsy as it looked, and that they could bring it down in close combat. That metal carapace might stop flechette rounds, but no armor could defend against a blessed Raxian blade. Slinging their guns on their backs, the Predators each drew a long, wickedly serrated knife. The black blades seemed to emit a faint red glow. As one, the last three Predators lunged.
The iceworlder lashed out with improbable swiftness. With an arm as wide around as a telephone pole, Arokht swatted one of the Predators out of the air. Its shattered corpse collided with a second Predator in mid-leap. Its momentum broken, the living Predator flew sideways, hitting the ground hard. The body of its dead companion landed on top of it. But while Arokht dealt with the first two, the third’s lunge succeeded. Clinging to the iceworlder’s massive bulk, it glared up at Anila with one crimson eye. It raised its blade for a killing strike, but the adventurer was faster, thrusting her sword into its helmet hard enough to make it lose its grip. It too, fell. The last thing it saw was one of Arokht’s massive boots coming down on its head.
The lone survivor, sprawled on the ground, finally disentangled itself from the body of its dead companion. It struggled to its feet, turning to face the iceworlder--and stared straight into the barrel of Arokht’s cannon. One shot later, it joined its fellow Predators in death.
Arokht looked down at the corpses with contempt. These Predators of Raxis turned out to be massive disappointments. Black Temple clones might have been more fragile than these hyped-up supersoldiers, but at least those diminutive creatures had sheer weight of numbers on their side. Still, it was nice to get some of his frustration out.
He was about to rear up and bellow another challenge when he remembered that Anila was still riding on his back.
----
Brother Gelu looked up at Arokht. His bewilderment was clear even with his face concealed. To think that a monstrous servant of the Wintergod would bow to this scraggly woman! Not only was she the shortest member of the whole group, but she also wore nothing that marked her as a follower of any god. She was a renegade, godless and unpredictable. At the very least, Arokht seemed to know her, and she had agreed to help him achieve his mysterious goal.
It was clear to Gelu that Arokht also chafed under her leadership. The giant was dominating and imperious, and it insulted him to be lead around by a lesser being. But as long as Anila lead him to that supposedly unusual cave, the iceworlder would tolerate her. He would put her in her proper place with the rest of the humans once they reached it.
Arokht glared at the cliffside. Though the entrance to the cave was still little more than a speck to his companions, the zoom function in his eyepieces allowed him to spy on what was happening within.
A human female, bound in metal and machinery, staggered out of the darkness. Arokht remembered her--the one the Outsider had described as a universal power source, but also fearful and destructive. Connected to a sun, somehow. Behind her was a...a thing, shadowy and formless, only visible in the cavern because of its constant motion. The iceworlder caught hints of limbs and bodies shifting in the mass, only to be subsumed again.
“We are not the first,” rumbled Arokht. He pointed towards the cave mouth with one of his secondary arms. “There are two others at the cave. Coming out.”
Anila squinted. “You’ve got very good eyes, Frosty. Who are they?”
“The one called Rachel-Wylite. And another.” Arokht paused. “Unidentified.”
“Let’s go meet them! They could help us, too!”
“Or they will attack,” snapped the iceworlder. “Carelessness will kill you. I will lead.”
“Hey-”
The human stopped short, frowning. She seemed to be listening to something.
Anila sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll follow you. But I’ve been in worse places, you know.”
Ignoring her, Arokht swung around to face the four Frostsworn soldiers. Brother Gelu immediately stood up straighter.
“Keep your distance. Be ready to fire if I call for it. Stay alert.”
The chaplain nodded. He had no idea what to fire at.
“Now,” said the iceworlder, “we take the cave. Forward!”
War.
Iceworlders were adapted for war even before they discovered the secrets of technology. Their homeworld was a harsh one, where shelter was scarce and food even scarcer. In eons past, roving iceworlder clans battled and fought one another for better hunting grounds or richer foraging territory. Conflict was frequent and unavoidable. This was darwinism at its finest. The weak perished; the strongest thrived. Those were the facts of life for many millions of years. The iceworlders remained individualistic, their petty feuds quickly tearing down any attempts towards unity.
True civilization would only arise as a result of necessity. The iceworlders were not the only sentient race on the planet. Formerly kept separate by geography, the race they called nharkoten began a mass migration into iceworlder territory. None could say why, only that they were threatening to drive the iceworlders themselves out. So it was for the first time in history that permanent alliances between the clans were forged. They were united by a single desire: the eradication of the invaders.
The nharkoten were wiped out utterly. In that brutal cross-species war was born the intense xenophobia characterizing iceworlders today. And when the iceworlders first traveled to the stars, they carried that xenophobia with them. Alien life must be destroyed because they aren't iceworlders. It was as simple as that. There might be other reasons--greed, imperialism, resources--but in the end it all boiled down to simple hatred of aliens.
Every human Arokht had laid his four eyes upon since his arrival here had triggered that killer instinct (especially the female who had been impudent enough to climb on top of him!). But this was the first time the armored giant could actually indulge in it.
Iceworlders do not charge very quickly, but their sheer mass gives them the impression of an approaching wall. They aren’t as fast as horses but they are large and heavy enough to simply smash through anything they don’t just trample underfoot. Their soldiers, meanwhile, have the added advantage of having huge guns attached to their arms.
The targeting computers in Arokht’s helmet leapt into action, calculating firing solutions and adjusting his aim to match. Generator bottles in the warrior’s subzero cannon whirred into life, powering the complicated firing mechanisms. A blue glow built in the weapon’s barrel and erupted into a beam of barely visible radiation that leached heat from everything it touched, aimed directly at the nearest Predator of Raxis.
The blast struck the black-armored soldier mid-leap, almost totally enveloping its head and torso. The thermal shock alone was enough to kill the Predator instantly and leave a thin layer of ice on its armor--freezing and rupturing every cell in its body struck by the beam in the process. It fell to the ground and shattered.
In a fraction of a second, its comrades processed its death and worked out a new battle plan. The coldbloods’ companion daemon became their new target. The extermination of the human worshippers could wait until they had dealt with the heavy support. With almost eerie coordination, the Predators fanned out, their augmented legs carrying them swiftly through the grass. As one, they drew their flechette rifles and fired, straight at the advancing beast.
A valiant effort, but futile. Arokht laughed as the tiny barbed spikes simply bounced off of his armor, even as he rushed towards the shooters. None of these humans could hurt an iceworlder! The flechettes, which would undoubtedly have been devastating against other humans (but hopefully not the one sitting on his back--he needed her), were utterly useless against the mammoth alien. He adjusted his aim and fired again, and again, and again.
Dropping like flies but not caring that they were, the Predators raced forwards. They had stopped shooting; what was the point? Shooting something immune to gunfire wasted ammo. Now, their best bet at taking down the beast was that it would be as clumsy as it looked, and that they could bring it down in close combat. That metal carapace might stop flechette rounds, but no armor could defend against a blessed Raxian blade. Slinging their guns on their backs, the Predators each drew a long, wickedly serrated knife. The black blades seemed to emit a faint red glow. As one, the last three Predators lunged.
The iceworlder lashed out with improbable swiftness. With an arm as wide around as a telephone pole, Arokht swatted one of the Predators out of the air. Its shattered corpse collided with a second Predator in mid-leap. Its momentum broken, the living Predator flew sideways, hitting the ground hard. The body of its dead companion landed on top of it. But while Arokht dealt with the first two, the third’s lunge succeeded. Clinging to the iceworlder’s massive bulk, it glared up at Anila with one crimson eye. It raised its blade for a killing strike, but the adventurer was faster, thrusting her sword into its helmet hard enough to make it lose its grip. It too, fell. The last thing it saw was one of Arokht’s massive boots coming down on its head.
The lone survivor, sprawled on the ground, finally disentangled itself from the body of its dead companion. It struggled to its feet, turning to face the iceworlder--and stared straight into the barrel of Arokht’s cannon. One shot later, it joined its fellow Predators in death.
Arokht looked down at the corpses with contempt. These Predators of Raxis turned out to be massive disappointments. Black Temple clones might have been more fragile than these hyped-up supersoldiers, but at least those diminutive creatures had sheer weight of numbers on their side. Still, it was nice to get some of his frustration out.
He was about to rear up and bellow another challenge when he remembered that Anila was still riding on his back.
----
Brother Gelu looked up at Arokht. His bewilderment was clear even with his face concealed. To think that a monstrous servant of the Wintergod would bow to this scraggly woman! Not only was she the shortest member of the whole group, but she also wore nothing that marked her as a follower of any god. She was a renegade, godless and unpredictable. At the very least, Arokht seemed to know her, and she had agreed to help him achieve his mysterious goal.
It was clear to Gelu that Arokht also chafed under her leadership. The giant was dominating and imperious, and it insulted him to be lead around by a lesser being. But as long as Anila lead him to that supposedly unusual cave, the iceworlder would tolerate her. He would put her in her proper place with the rest of the humans once they reached it.
Arokht glared at the cliffside. Though the entrance to the cave was still little more than a speck to his companions, the zoom function in his eyepieces allowed him to spy on what was happening within.
A human female, bound in metal and machinery, staggered out of the darkness. Arokht remembered her--the one the Outsider had described as a universal power source, but also fearful and destructive. Connected to a sun, somehow. Behind her was a...a thing, shadowy and formless, only visible in the cavern because of its constant motion. The iceworlder caught hints of limbs and bodies shifting in the mass, only to be subsumed again.
“We are not the first,” rumbled Arokht. He pointed towards the cave mouth with one of his secondary arms. “There are two others at the cave. Coming out.”
Anila squinted. “You’ve got very good eyes, Frosty. Who are they?”
“The one called Rachel-Wylite. And another.” Arokht paused. “Unidentified.”
“Let’s go meet them! They could help us, too!”
“Or they will attack,” snapped the iceworlder. “Carelessness will kill you. I will lead.”
“Hey-”
The human stopped short, frowning. She seemed to be listening to something.
Anila sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll follow you. But I’ve been in worse places, you know.”
Ignoring her, Arokht swung around to face the four Frostsworn soldiers. Brother Gelu immediately stood up straighter.
“Keep your distance. Be ready to fire if I call for it. Stay alert.”
The chaplain nodded. He had no idea what to fire at.
“Now,” said the iceworlder, “we take the cave. Forward!”