Freyd

"He took it," she explained candidly. "I wasn't really in a position to prevent him from doing so, but we managed to talk things out a bit." Meek chuckling was all that she could muster while running her slender fingers over his large ears. "Just be glad we aren't both dead, because I'm just about certain that we just encountered oblivion personified. It was really weird to just talk to something that seconds earlier had been set on obliterating you and everything you ever cared about." She rubbed his head a few more times. "I'm really sorry about Nhiks, and Harbourne, and, well.

When the red finally cleared from Fresco's head, the dark nightmare was gone, as was every effort he had ever made to contain his true form, and his pride. The assassin had tossed him around like a rag doll, redirecting his rage to cause the death of the very man he'd been sworn to protect. A flinch and start took hold as he felt an unexpected touch upon his brow. It was only then that he realized that the world was on its side, and that his head was resting in Szareesh's lap. "What... happened?" She smiled, sadly, her tears having long ago run dry. "It's okay," she offered.

"I'm not entirely sure what's happening here, Szareesh of the whatever, but I have no desire to see your friend killed. In fact, all I came here to do was to rescue someone who'd once helped save my life and that of many others." The child draped herself over the broken form of her friend, whose health bar scraped barely a sliver above oblivion. She couldn't stand the though of losing anyone else. "Take me to Hoshi and we can end this right now. No one else needs to get hurt. I think that's something we would both prefer to live with, yes?" Wiping a snot-gushing nose on her

"What's your name, girl?" Freyd's voice held a hint of curiosity and, strangely, compassion. Persi was in the process of mauling her friend, so he could spare a moment for a sidebar. "Szareesh, Scout, First class, of the Regalian Frontier Squadron in his majesty's Galtean Navy." When was the last time she'd even identified herself by those words. They'd been lost to time, twisted into a pretzel-shaped desire to forget that she'd forgotten they even existed. She could hardly see him through the sobbing mucus-covered mess that was her face. "It's just so not fair!" Freyd had alwa

Stone tore and broke around Were-Fresco's form as he recovered from the force of Freyd's blow. He had to shake his head at least three times to stop the ringing within and get his visions to stop wobbling around. Unfortunately, all was still a red haze in a world filled with nothing but hate and anguish. Freyd stepped sideways and emerged from Szareesh's own shadow catching the furious first mate with another fearsome uppercut that dive his skull straight up into the ceiling. "What can't you just leave us alone," the girl pleaded, tears streaming down the white fur on her face. "We ju

"STOP! FRESCO! STOP!!!" The words bounced off of his mind, which had completely disconnected from any interaction with rational reality. Fresco had become the very monster he'd struggled so long to contain. A man and a people afflicted by a curse beyond his control and subjects to the whims of distant, apathetic Lords of Fate. His end was playing itself out in ever-deepening tragedy, and on the verge of consuming him. Favouring attack, Freyd had already feigned low and launched himself through the dispersing cloud that had been Harbourne, sneaking below enraged Fresco's anger

"So, I'm guessing that's a 'no'?" Freyd spun and flung his prisoner into the path of the crazed were-rat onslaught, a cloud of teeth and claws hurtling straight towards him. Harbourne never stood a chance and was vaporized instantly, features of grave regret mixed with terror frozen on his face as his friend tore him to pieces. Szareesh screamed in the background, at the egregious horror playing out before her. Her mind struggling to comprehend how her world had so suddenly been turned upside down. Hadn't the Galteans suffered enough? Was is truly necessary that pile insult onto inju

Spotting the insignia tucked under the fold of the man's coat, Freyd recognized it as the same one worn by the rat woman who'd led the assault on the barge. A brass medallion slipped to hang from his fingers over Harbourne's head. "Someone left a memento behind on your last raid. That didn't go so well, by the way. But I'll tell you what. You give me the hostage taken by the survivors and I'll spare the rest of you from the same fate as the guards. Deal?" Fresco was dead still and silent, his jaw hanging half-open as he stared at the trinket he'd given his wife all those years

"Say your peace, assassin. The longer I hold you up, the more my men will tighten the noose around your neck." To his credit, Fresco had actually managed to sound more credible than he felt. "You mean the men I left in fragments between here and your front door?" The cowled cretin tilted his head in a mocking manner that nearly broke the first mate's restraint. He knew that his captain would kill him if he failed to protect the alchemist. This wasn't looking good, either way. "So, what's worth more to you: the casque, the old man or the mouse girl?" Freyd honestly didn't care

Chaos engulfed the tight tunnel as half a dozen soldiers struggled to find their target, which seemed to shift and vanish like the wind. Whatever it was seemed to have figured out what they were trying to protect as a leather-clad foot stomped on Harbourne's hand. One of the same deadly hands grabbed the rat-man by the scruff of the neck, lifted and then smashed hard into the stone floor with bone-breaking force. The old man's glasses went flying into the darkness from the impact, which left him gasping for absent breath. "HARBOURNE!" Szareesh rushed towards him only to be blocked by

"If we are ever going to survive this, we need to be rid of the worst enemy that we stand to face. Our fellow man. The ones that choose to become one with the monsters of this place." I know what it sounds like he's saying. And I know what he's really saying. He's including himself among the monsters. Eruda... I'm so sorry. Staring at the boundlessly lethal knowledge, literally at his fingertips, Freyd found it difficult to resist its allure. His heart recoiled at its contents, but his hand refused to withdraw. The potential was... overwhelming. A flick of his eyes to the red ro

Something... no.. someone long and lanky fell upon them from above. Claws and teeth flensed flesh and shredded into the mate and his guards, tearing their health bars to pieces. He heard Szareesh scream and saw something move at the edge of his vision. A black fist punched through one of his men, grazing the girl's head while unleashing a banshee's keening the likes of which he never would have thought possible. A bright orange swatch, like a brilliant burn, flared as the mouseling's fur and flesh were ripped off and sucked into the liquid void. A burst of fractals showed a man, for an ins

Thread Summary: 25056 words / 30 = 835*5= 4175*Tier 25056 / 300 = 84 seeds Tricolor_Mina receives: Morgenstern receives: Raidou Receives: Freyd Receives: Setsuna Receives: Shiina receives:

Only about two dozen remained, for sure, and less Darvin's group that had remained behind to hold the hall. Fresco had Szareesh at his side, the casque hovering in his arms over her head while the worn cutlass in his right hand stood ready to carve them a path forward. "Damn. How did they find us? Come on Harbourne. Now is not the time to doddle." Waving his blade around, he sent another squad ahead to safeguard passage. Iron crashed into wood and stone behind them. The enemy must have entered the hall and dropped a chandelier in the process. "Double-time it. We can't sta

More sudden cries of alarm, this time coming from the far passage towards which the alchemist had been heading. His escort surrounded him, uncertain as to the source or vector of the threat. Scuffles could be heard from various directions at once, some merely calling for aid or to point out the sighting of something they couldn't describe. A barrage of light pulses from the north was followed a few moments later by the drifting of bright blue dust and digital shards spilling onto the open floor. More dead. "There are likely more than one," Fresco surmised. "Come on. We're getting th

Cries of surprise sounded from the same passage through which the marines had departed. Everyone in the room raised their weapons at the sound, but fell silent to listen for the outcome. Nothing greeted them. Not a whisper. Everyone jumped at the sound of metal scraping on stone. A sword came spinning from the corridor, stopping just shy of Szareesh's foot. The poor girl soiled herself instantly. All around her, a phalanx of swords and spears raised in alarm, aimed squarely at the tunnel mouth from which the weapon had come. "Harbourne. MOVE. NOW." Fresco spilled the table

"But... the weapon. It isn't fully ready, or easily portable. I can't leave it behind!" A swish of his feathered hat being deposited on his head spoke volumes to all those present as to Fresco's tolerance for delays. "Take what you can. Leave the rest. Go. Now." A tiny finger lifted from his paw, protest ready but dying to a whimper as he met then dodged the mate's gaze. "Yes. Yes, alright. I understand." Stuffing his hands into pockets to keep them from getting him into any more trouble, the alchemist signaled his escort to gather and follow. The skyrats kept him und

Silent orders were issued by but the lift of his gaze. A dozen grim-faced sailors left the room, grabbing weapons and glow stones alike, for those who needed them. These were veterans of a lost war, serving still out of loyalty and desperation, but determined to take rather than lose anything more. "Seal the room, and place a cordon of guards on the lab." Metal scraped against leather as he drew his own cutlass and barked the rest of his scallywags from their stupor. "Look lively, scum! We've got a rat in our maze that doesn't belong here. Flush him out!" Nothing motivated the la

It took a cup of hot something, mostly brown, a pair of blankets and the huddle of her crewmates to finally calm her down enough to speak without her teeth chattering. "What has you so spooked, little one? I've seen you stare down Ladonian Praetorians without twitching a whisker." Fresco's large, mitt-like hands wrapped themselves around Szareesh, trying to settle her nerves. It took three more sips before she could utter a word. "Shadows," she mumbled. "Death. It came from our own shadows!" Solid red eyes grew wide, bulging from their sockets as if they could draw the images h

Another mouseling tumbled into the main hall from one of the upper tunnels, spilling himself all over the floor and drawings a heart round of chuckles in the process. Small and frail, the larger pirates mocked and buffered the new arrival about while she struggled to regain her footing. Struggling to right herself, Szareesh finally gave up and tried a different tack. "Intruder!" That got everyone's attention, quieting the entire den at once. Despite their rambunctious proclivities, most of these pirates were ex-marines of Galtea, and they'd learned the hard way to take such warn

Some random scum dropped a casque on their table, spilling a few drops of the fluorescent green goo that had once been its contents in the process. Harbourne hissed against clumsy waste of the previous substance. Another batch delivered meant another neighbourhood stricken and ready to turn. If they refused, Ladonia would see them as sickened and set the lot to the flame. 'How many of their own would they burn,' he wondered. How many had they already culled to keep the fat cats upstream in the sewers from noticing plague in their undercroft? Unfortunately, it only affected those alr

Terror spread like melted cheese over the rat-man's features, his fur bristling with fear verging on panic. "I didn't mean anything by it!" Tail flickering about in random directions, the one called Harbourne furtively sought some means of escape, like he'd been set on a sinking ship. But that had already happened and was distant history to both of them. Gabrandr's final stand against Ladonia had spelled their doom, and yet they mourned their fallen king. Would that they had triumphed that day, but Razwell's fodder had beaten them to the punch and unleashed some damned secret weapon. They

They wore garments of grey-blue wool, of distinctly marine cut, but badly worn with age and the trials of loss. A few still sported Galtean crests as badges of honour or spoils of war. Though maybe half the lot were from that broken land, all had profited from its fall by pleasure or necessity, and so most of their pilfered prizes were Galtean by mark and craft. Two figures argued in the dark, beneath the cacophony of clatter made by their mates yet commonplace in this raucous place. "Out with it, Harbourne. You've been tinkering and clinkering away in that lab of yours for months.

In the heart of the complex was a single chamber concealed from the world at large. Dozens of smaller nooks and side passages lined the outer walls at various heights, giving the space a warren-like appearance. The vaulted stone walls and floor were heavily worn and notably covered in claw marks and scratches of not particular apparent or obvious origin. Sconces lines the walls, set with torches, while a trio of wrought iron chandeliers hung by chains from the ceiling, each one sporting a half-dozen lanterns hanging from their undercarriage. Dozens of figures scrambled about the place, mos