He was a very different man...in a lot of ways, not a man at all. A boy. I was also a different person, or at least in a worse position. At the time, I didn't recognize it. Looking back, I do. That faint glean, dim but there. Feral. Hungry. He saw me, alone, a girl in dirty clothes and a pretty face, his life so suddenly, drastically changed...and he saw me as an acquisition. Something he could have. Something he wanted.
He didn't do anything, but it was there in his eyes. The need. The sense of deserving that need. Beyond attraction, in a place that makes me nervous.
Jay was close by, and I don't think Ash would have done anything even if he hadn't been. Still, now that I think of it, Jay recognized it too. Jay was different. He saw me as a sister, someone to protect, especially after the rest of our family was killed, taken by Xaxargas. It was the sole time my old family and what would be my new one would meet.
Jay died that night. Ash fought to save him and failed. I could have saved him if I'd known my power...but it was not to be. That night was the worst of my life. I was more...vulnerable than I'd ever been.
The look in his eye when we met showed Ash had that dark spark, but for him, his heart had greater power. He did nothing but try to comfort me. Having barely met me, he didn't feel comfortable offering a shoulder to cry on, and he fumbled with words. So he did what he thought was best, and tried to distract me by offering me a bag of baked pumpkin seeds. He tried to ease my pain.
That trace of blackness would not vanish that night, and Ash would need other lessons in that part of him. That part limited the connection we could form in those days, something that first angered him, and then made him incredibly sad. The things he offered me though, I never forgot them. When he made his way through his trials, as I did mine, and we did together, with allies who grew close to us and formed my new family...in time, he changed. In time, I felt my affection deepen. It's a strange thing. The man Ash was then would have cut off his own arm for these feelings. Now, he struggles with their reality. Another trial, but one we will pass. Together.
My ring is actually a cluster of diamonds, but there's a small enchantment on it. An illusion, that presents the gem as a diamond-shaped pumpkin seed. Some have said this makes the ring appear ugly. Everyone has their own opinion.
Their own wants. Their own...things to be acquired.
I am a giving person by nature. I help anyone who comes to me for help, regardless of what they've done, though they must answer for it themselves. I believe that people can be better than they are.
I also know there are those who never will be. I saw that faint trace in Ash, and I understand its nature. Its essence. In Ash, it was small, and he overcame it. In others, it is who they are.
Every problem has a solution. Some solutions I don't like, but I will do them anyway. I know the foul breath of acquisition.
If it stands against me, it will learn why I learned to be cold.
------
All in all, a rapier was a poor defensive weapon. The long, thin blade was designed to thrust and stab, not parry and block. Anyone with any sense would recognize a sword being wielded in such a way as a sword that would soon be tumbling from dead, foolish fingers.
It was amazing what you could trick people into believing via the power of convention. Let them do the work for you.
And to be fair, Christine could have been wielding the biggest, meanest sword on the planet; it still wouldn't have offered her much protection against Salkorot's gigantic, man-crushing club. A club that he swung with knee-weakening speed; Ihmensel’jk were not fast runners, but they could be horrifically quick in close quarters.
So she didn't bother with a defense at all, siding with discretion. The club swung down, the club slowed down, and the club came down on empty ground, Christine taking two large steps to the side to avoid it. She felt like someone had stuck an ice pick into the back of her skull as she moved. She did it anyway, mud splattering onto her body from the club's impact.
"GOLDEN HAIR!" Salkorot said, clearly wanting an up close look at said golden hair, his free hand thrusting for her head, giant fingers seeking to turn it crimson. Christine took another two step backwards to dodge it, causing Salkorot to yank up his club and swing it out. Christine ducked under the first swing, before almost standing back up into the second swing, Salkorot going with the momentum and spinning around, his club sweeping low and up. Another two steps to the side ensured it only hit air, Christine more concerned about having to jerk her arm up and possibly interrupt her distance-repair.
Black smoke erupted from the Ihmensel’jk's mouth as he growled his displeasure. Wyrms could actually breathe fire and other unpleasantness, something that did not transfer to Ihmensel’jk who drank their blood. One small blessing, but Christine hadn't forgotten what Salkorot had made his entrance from.
"STAND STILL!" Salkorot said. That old chestnut.
With a growl, Salkorot twisted the head on his weapon, and the sides of the bludgeon opened up, hardened spikes snapping into place. And that one.
"CRUSH YOU!"
Christine did the last thing Salkorot expected: she stood still. This time, she spun her rapier up, and as the club came down at her, applied a quick one-two punch of slowdown and speed up, the tip of the blade knocking into the club and deflecting it aside into the ground next to Christine. Another ice pick slid into her brain. She ignored it (again). She'd had a very good teacher in learning to handle pain.
Another swinging downward slam. Another deflection via rapier. Salkorot next pulled a decent feint for his size, swinging his weapon up and then attacking with a thrusting kick instead. Christine just jumped up on his leg, bouncing off with impossible grace and landing on her feet, sword out, arm out. Salkorot howled, swung his weapon up again...and let it go, the giant club flying into the air as he lunged at Christine, trying to catch her off guard.
He failed. Christine promptly stole his trick, instead ducking down and grabbing up a second glob of mud that she hurled into his eyes before dodging aside, holding up her hand and calling her sword back to it as Salkorot clawed at his face. His club thudded heavily into the mud nearly, the sound getting the Ihmensel’jk's attention, as he stalked over to retrieve it, more black smoke shooting between his teeth as he growled.
"YOU CALL THIS A FIGHT?!"
"Yes." Christine said, her tone plain. The dark chuckle that the giant gave in response spoke of few good things. But he was still focused on her. She hadn't lost her connection to the wounded soldier. He only needed a little more time, she'd have been done by now if this creature hadn't just been so damn eager to spill blood...
"YOU NOBLE TYPES SEEM TO THINK THERE'S SOMETHING IN THESE WAYS. THERE IS. YOUR SCREAMS FILLED WITH ALL THE MORE AGONY." Salkorot said, gripping at his weapon. Lovely. He has philosophical leanings.
Salkorot twisted his weapon again, and the head came free, the chain spilling out from inside the weapon head, turning his club into a morning star. And also that.
"DODGE ONE BLOW, DODGE A THOUSAND. THE ONLY ONE THAT MATTERS IS THE ONE I LAND." Salkorot said, and then swung the head of his weapon, the chain allowing it to reach across the battlefield to Christine. Christine swiftly judged its range and ducked backwards, getting a close up look at the barbed spikes as it swung past. She juked to her left, moving around and trying to keep his eyes on her. It worked; even with her arm out, he hadn't seem to have clued into why. Maybe he thought it was a combat stance.
Or a convenient limb to snap off, Salkorok yanking the head of the weapon back and swinging it up and down. Christine dodged again, only to be nearly knocked flat on her side from the force that emitted from the impact. Harder downstrike. Can't just dodge by inches-!
Another yankback, another swing down, another dodge, more mud spraying on Christine. She deemed to return fire with a weak Stream blast directed from her sword, the force lance making a small dent in Salkorok's armor and nothing else. Salkorok sneered, yanking back his weapon again.
Before punching it, his armored fist sending the spiked mass flying directly at Christine, faster than it had been swung before.
Not fast enough. Christine flicked her arm towards the weapon, and the flow of time around it reversed for a quarter of a second. Nowhere near enough to send it flying backwards, but more than enough to stop it in its tracks, all its momentum deadened as it crashed down onto the ground. Christine thought the Ihmensel’jk might have been comically surprised; it was hard to tell with the helmet.
"RARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
They always lost their temper. They always lost control. Salkorot was no exception, yanking his weapon back as he began swinging it wildly at Christine, smoke wafting off him like he'd caught on fire in a literal as well as emotional sense, Christine ducking repeatedly to dodge the strikes.
"GOLDEN HAIRRRRRRRRRRR!"
Just a touch more, just...wait, check your-
In surgery, in combat, in so many things good and bad, it was easy for it to become your world, everything else falling away. The rest of the world was still there though, and sometimes losing sight of it could come at terrible cost. The two crossbowmen who'd snuck up behind Christine aimed to prove that.
Too bad for them Christine had good eyes as well as a good memory.
She promptly pulled out her own old chestnut and threw herself flat on the ground. The crossbow bolts hissed over her, one of them slamming into the Ihmensel’jk instead. Christine took a moment to scramble to her feet and check the other angles for more ambushes, but the two crossbowmen seemed to be alone.
And deeply regretting their choice, as the giant blood-crazed Ihmensel’jk was now charging at THEM. Christine's eyes widened, reading all the emotions cross over their bodies; fear, confusion, paralysis in the face of a monster. Then one exploded into a messy spray of viscera as the Ihmensel’jk brought his weapon down on him. Christine's heart wrenched.
I can't do anything...
The second soldier ran for it, but he didn't get far. Salkorot yanked up his morning star, swung it back up, and then lashed it around, the blow literally smashing the Vurnir crossbowman into two, his body separating at the knees before his shattered corpse hit the ground some twenty feet distant. Another one dead, in an unfair fight, in a battle he probably didn't even understand. Fed to something that regards killing like a second stomach, one that's never full.
...Damn you Incael. I hope Ash...
...Ash.
Christine put her thoughts into a box, cracking her neck as she began walking to the left again, trying to get into the beast's line of sight, making sure he didn't turn around fully, didn't realize what she was (still) really doing. The Ihmensel’jk seemed to take a few moments to remember she was there, turning to face her, giving his chained weapon a lazy pull backwards to return the head to his side.
"I could have killed you just now, you know. Surely you realize that." Christine said. Pointless words, but she would speak them, if only so he'd look at her. "You want to keep fighting? The next reinforcements might not be on your side. Or armed so lightly."
"I WILL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU. MAKE A STEW OUT OF YOUR REMAINS."
"I really doubt someone as crafty in combat as you are believes that."
"I DO BELIEVE...THAT YOU THINK I'M STUPID." Salkorot said.
Then he turned towards the wounded soldier, spun his weapon up, and brought it crashing down.
---
...they called them Warmfangs. Foul canines with a poisoned bite. Even driving them off, Jay was doomed.
Celia took an arrow in the chest. She just looked confused as she died, that last bit of light in her fading away as soon as she'd hit the ground.
Reid got washed overboard in a sudden storm in a sea that never had storms. We couldn't even try to save him, the waters carrying our ship away.
Joanna and Beau, Saul and Alec, Danica...
They would have died no matter what I did, what they did. We chose to explore this new world. We had adventures. We had good times. By the time we realized the nature of our fate but not the source of it, there was just Jay and Elliot and Jane, and I. Jane tried to run, tried to hide. When we found her, she'd been killed by a noble for sport. Elliot fell prey to a bartender watering down his drink with a normally harmless chemical that Elliot turned out be allergic to. And Jay was killed by wolves that seemed to seek us out like they held a grudge.
...I do not know if the world can be called cruel. I don't think along those lines. I stick with what I know.
I didn't have the power then.
--------
But now was her plaything. Christine felt blades slam into every part of her spine as she emitted one last, concentrated burst of her power towards the man she'd worked so hard to save, closing up what last damage she could...and giving the wounded soldier three seconds in the span of one.
It was just enough for him to roll out of the way, the impact force throwing him end over end another ten feet. Just in time.
"YOU BLINKED."
Salkorot swung the weapon around, and for the first time, Christine found she had no more seconds left to give.
The sensation of the impact was strangely cold, Christine almost feeling like she was partly outside her body, even as she felt her feet leave the ground, felt the spikes pierce in, felt the bones within her begin to snap and fracture, feel the hot jagged maw of pain open up to bite deep. Then she found herself lost to the darkness, her body crashing down and sliding along the ground, blood spilling out to mix with the mud.
"NO!" The wounded soldier yelled. She'd never even gotten his name.
"I GAVE YOU FAIR WARNING. YOU SHOULD HAVE FOUGHT. HE'S GOING TO DIE ANYWAY." Salkarot said, smoke snorting from his nostrils as he yanked his weapon back, turning towards the wounded soldier.
Arondight had fallen down near him, and he'd snatched it up, one arm limp at his side, the other brandishing the weapon. The Ihmensel’jk snorted more laughter, running his knuckles along the spiked club, wiping up some of the blood that he lapped up with relish.
"SO YOU WANT TO FIGHT."
Doubt crossed the soldier's face. He was still hurt. He was nowhere near as strong...
...did that matter?
"Come on!" The wounded soldier said. Salkorot chuckled again. More death was always good.
"RUN, FIGHT, NO MATTER. YOU'RE WORTHLESS. ALL WORTHLESS."
"Can I join this debate?"
The Ihmensel’jk turned his head at the new voice, before a wholly new kind of roar boomed out, a fearsome impact slamming into the beast's back.
"Because I have my own argument." Sergeant Reemer said, ejecting the spent slug from the shotgun. "It's called, YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONES ON THE FIELD WITH ORIAM WEAPONRY, SHITHEAD."
The shotgun boomed again, the hardened metal mass it fired slamming into the Ihmensel’jk, Reemer advancing forward, his body a clockwork cycle. Cock, aim, fire. Cock, aim, fire, even the giant unable to stand up against the impacts. The wounded soldier took the chance to get the heck out of dodge, running around the Ihmensel’jk and joining his sergeant at his side, Reemer pumping another round into Salkorot. Another. Another.
The chambers finally clicked empty.
Salkorot remained on his feet, smoke drifting from a dozen holes in his chest armor. A more virulent smoke poured from his mouth as he looked up, eyes blazing with hate.
"....Um, Sir? What do we do now?" The wounded soldier said.
"...To be honest Private, I was kind of hoping that would be more of a difference maker." Reemer said, mild alarm now creeping into his heart. His backup was a good twenty seconds behind him...
Salkorot threw back his head and roared laughter. It was more than mirth in his voice though; it was rage, and hunger, and triumph. An animal come to feed. A monster come to devour. A beast with darkness within, darkness so deep it poured out between his fangs...
A creature that suddenly wasn't laughing any longer. A moment later, a hand came down on Reemer's shoulder.
"Thank you, sergeant." Christine said. The two men snapped their head backwards. The woman was bloody, and her armor was banged up, but she was back on her feet. And no longer shedding fresh blood, clear eyes checking the wounded shoulder's arm. "I'll take it from here."
"...ma'am, I must insist..."
"My Intricacies are designed to do a lot of things. One's to keep me from staying knocked out when I can fix myself. And fixing myself is the first thing I learned to do well." Christine said. "Get back to the back, soldier. That arm still needs some treatment."
With that, she slipped past the two, walking towards Salkorot, who stared a bit more and then began laughing again.
"NEVER KILLED A FOOL TWICE!"
"Ma'am, your weapon! Weapons!" The wounded soldier said. He was still holding Arondight, the Soulstorm glaive now on the ground after being knocked over from the wounded soldier's dodge. Christine hadn't retrieved either of them.
"I know." Christine said. "My Intricacies do other things too."
Christine thrust down her hands, and the shiny plates on her forearms and shoulders lit up with elderich sigils, the armor sliding down and reworking itself around her hands.
"YOU ASSUME TOO MUCH, GOLDEN HAIR!" Salkorot said, lashing up his giant morning star and swinging it down.
It was the same basic slowdown/speed up combo she'd done with her rapier. It looked a lot more impressive when Christine deflected the giant attack by punching it aside, the weapon slamming into the ground. Smoke erupted from the Ihmensel’jk's nostrils in surprise, and then, perhaps concluding that he must have been seeing things, he yanked the weapon back and swung it down again.
Christine punch-deflected-timewarped it just like she had the first time, the weapon slamming down onto her other side, nothing breaking her stride. Snarling, Salkorot yanked back the weapon.
Then he pulled out the throwing axe he'd had on him the whole time and threw it directly at Christine.
Christine caught it in mid air and tossed it aside in one smooth motion, like she had axes thrown at her face every day.
"...STOP IT WITH THESE GAMES! FIGHT!!!" Salkorot said, his voice bellowing across the battlefield as he swung his weapon in another wide sweeping arc. Christine ducked under the first swipe. The second went low; she jumped over it, her hand actually using the weapon as a brief brace. Roaring, Salkorot pulled his weapon back...
I know your tells now, Ihmensel’jk...
The beast leaned forward and spewed forth black, choking mist, the cloud engulfing Christine, before he swung out and lashed his weapon through the sightless murk. A blindsighting blow.
It hit nothing. A second later, a gust of force blew the cloud away. Christine had just jumped backwards out of range. The problem with using a cloud of smoke to try and aid a blow was it made it very obvious where the blow was going to be aimed.
"Your armor's joints." Christine said.
"WHAT?!"
Christine held out her hand, and Arondight flew out of the wounded soldier's grip, sliding into Christine's. The next thing Reemer saw was a golden blur.
The next thing Salkorot felt was the rapier being rammed through his right ankle, the point exploding out the other end of his foot.
"Too obvious." Christine said, spinning on her knees, and even as Salkorot opened his mouth to yell, she slammed out her palms into the side of his left knee and dislocated it to the point of near amputation.
Salkorot finally got it emit his yell. Even as he did, Christine was behind him, reaching down between his legs and yanking her rapier free, immediately thrusting it back out, driving the point into his right achilles tendon, snipping it in two and completing her destruction of his vertical base. Salkorot fell to his knees, unable to support his own weight, and even as he tried to reach behind himself to grab his attacker Christine rammed her rapier up underneath his left arm, piercing up and through his shoulder blade, firing a burst of force along the blade to shatter the delicate mechanisms within for good measure. The giant's weapon arm went dead, but his free hand closed on Christine's own, his fingers clenching onto her arm like iron.
In the half second that followed, Christine broke free, switched her angle, and rammed her blade into another open point on Salkorot's armor, destroying his right shoulder in turn. Christine yanked the weapon free so hard she seemingly lost her grip on it, the blade spiraling away. She didn't seem to care.
Reemer saw the first few punches she threw into the Ihmensel’jk's chest before it all became another blur, a blaze of motion that ended with one pistoning blow that shattered the giant's weakened armor. There was a pause.
Then Christine threw one final punch, striking the giant so hard Reemer swore he felt the re-directed force on her armor tease his hair from twenty feet away, the Ihmensel’jk's helmet flying off like it was a paper crown caught on the wind. There was another brief pause.
A moment later, the mud thrown into the air from the impact splattered back down. And just like that, the fight was done.
Christine stepped back, turning away and rubbing her hand, barely seeming to notice the Ihmensel’jk she'd just dissected. The fearsome beast suddenly seemed a lot smaller, though he was still moving slightly, focus dancing in and out of his eyes. When Christine's armor began to snap back into place, Reemer finally acted.
"Get back to our lines. Do what the woman said. Now, NOW!" Reemer said, walking forward. The wounded soldier reacted on instinct, though he glanced back behind him once more as he retreated, looking at the sight of the girl and the giant. Reemer wasn't as impressed, in terms that he still had a job to do. His shotgun was empty, but he had a perfectly serviceable sword.
Christine flicked her eyes to him, and for a moment Reemer got a real glimpse at how tired she was. The 44 had amazing powers and could channel Stream energy like it was going out of style, but even they had limits. Then again, Reemer was amazed Christine still hadn't reached hers, though it was clear she was close.
"....pretty damn savage for a doctor." Reemer said. Behind Christine, Salkorot tried to reach for her.
"He's not my patient." Christine said, and turned and lashed out with her foot. The dull thunderous crack of the Ihmensel’jk's neck breaking washed over Reemer, and as the beast collapsed completely, Christine let out a slow breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to work blood and feeling back into her hands. Reemer nodded a response, and then stepped in close to check something.
He wasn't wholly surprised to find the giant still alive.
"Ma'am?"
"Drag him back to your camp. If his detoxifying doesn't kill him, I'll consider fixing him up enough for trial..."
"With all due respect ma'am, this THING murdered my men. Gleefully. This isn't a city...this is war." Reemer said, drawing his own sword. It was just a simple sharp piece of metal compared to the Hourglass' weaponry, but it was all he needed.
"...that is true. I will defer to your judgment, sir." Christine said, her expression unreadable. "I'd just like to say...he's helpless now. They deserve justice...but at some point...war..." Christine said.
"...I understand." Reemer said.
A quick stab through the eye was enough to finish the Ihmensel’jk off. Christine followed the motion with her eyes, but she did not raise a hand to stop him.
"Thank you for protecting my men. But...you won't always be here, ma'am." Reemer said.
"...I understand." Christine said, nodding. She did not spare the creature another glance, the young woman walking back to her sword and picking it up from the ground.
"...he wouldn't have survived burnout, anyway. There's a reason only lunatic Icks drink that shit." Reemer said, following.
"...Probably." Christine said, having made her way to Soulstorm. Instead of sheathing her sword, she picked it up with her free hand. More Crown Point soldiers were arriving, fanning out to secure the area; Christine spotted the officer who'd been trying to help the wounded soldier being taken away on a stretcher for aid. At least one less death. It was something.
"You've done more than enough, ma'am. Return to the lines, rest. We can handle it from here."
"I know you can. But I will still politely decline." Christine said, as she turned around and began walking back towards Reemer.
"Ma'am, you have fought enough! You have nothing to prove!"
"I don't want to prove anything. This is personal." Christine said, walking past Reemer. "Continue, sergeant. You don't need me to do your job."
"...you, you, and you! Go with her, back her up! Follow her as best you can!" Reemer said, several soldiers from his reinforcements peeling off and running after Christine. "The rest of you form up, get the lines solid! We're almost done here people, let's not falter now!"
"We're with you, ma'am." One of the soldiers said. Christine glanced back at them, and for a moment, she smiled. In that smile, the soldier felt like she could do anything. That to die would terribly disappoint this woman, and that would be a tragedy.
"So am I." Christine said, and swung both her weapons down into a ready stance, continuing to move. Reemer was not wrong. Her previous assessment of herself hadn't accounted for events like what had just occurred. She was at ten percent, at best.
She'd make it work.
She always did.
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