Lineage, Gaiden I

Somewhen.

For a bit, it seemed like the infant was never even going to acknowledge Beck's presence. She was content to be drinking her orange juice. For a moment, Beck wondered where she put it all. In the next moment, he worried he might be called on to handle where she put it: things had gone quiet in the next room where her parents and guests were.

"...wow." Beck blinked several times, a little amazed at how much the baby was knocking back the orange juice. Perhaps Sarah would have an early rival when it came to putting away large amounts of foodstuffs! Then again, did soft drinks even count...?

Uh-oh. Things had gone quiet in the next room - That was were Ash, Christine and their guests were. Had they forgotten about the child? He hoped not - he was only three himself, and despite having a supercomputer for a brain he wasn't confident he could manage babysitting a kid he barely knew. That seemed more like Uncle James's thing...

The girl was finished. She looked at Beck, eyes wide, taking him in. Though Beck didn't know it, if his parents had any regrets about him, it was the fact that by the very nature of his existence, he had never worn that look. An infant's developing brain looked at the world with such magnificent purity that it seemed unlikely that machines would learn to replicate it any time soon. A small sacrifice, but a notable one in the minds of Beck's grandfather and his ilk, a more complicated issue than robot hair.

"...Boo!"

She waved her hands, dropping her empty sip-cup.

"Boo! Boo!"

....She was how old? 11 months? Was that old enough to try and scare him?

Um... Okay? How did this go? Beck covered his face, then waited for the appropriate moment...

"Boo to you, too!"

The girl laughed, smacking her hands on the ground.

"She's actually describing you. I think she's saying 'Blue', or trying, anyway." There was Christine, entering the room, driven by some inner clock that let her know her daughter was done drinking.

"Mamaw!" The baby said. Christine hoisted her up, holding her close and giving her a light tap on the back. Fortunately for Beck's sake of nausea, she didn't spit up.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I wish we could blow these people off, but pint of sweat and blood and all that." Christine said, rocking her daughter, who babbled and waved a hand at Beck.

"Boo!"

"No, no. Beck."

"...Eck!"

"Very good!"

"No problem. Always happy to help!" To be told, Beck wasn't sure how much he had actually helped, but hey, he'd take what he could get.

"...so," he ventured after a moment's thought. "You got any idea of where to school her? Always good to be thinking of that stuff early."

"Depends on a few things. If she's a sporty or a smartie. Or a Sparky."

"Ark! Ark!"

The girl then burped, before fussing. Christine held her close.

"Be glad you never had to go to school, Beck. I did. It mostly sucked." There was Ash, tiredly running his hand through sweaty blonde hair. Blonde hair...

Ash was blonde. Christine was blonde. And their baby...had a full head of brown hair.

Beck nodded. He had friends his age who often talked about going to school, and it did not sound like much fun at all. Even if Doctor Light suddenly decided to give him home tuition, it would have been much more preferable to being stuck in some stuffy classroom while-

...wait a data-crunching second.

"...brown hair?"

"Huh?"

"Her hair." Beck pointed. "She has brown hair. Shouldn't she be blonde?"

"She is blonde. Dark strawberry blonde." Christine said.

"When she was born, her hair was like us, but a gene crossed somewhere and her hair darkened as she got older."

"...oh." Now Beck felt a bit stupid for asking. It seemed so obvious now that- no, no it did not.

"Gene crossed? From where? I thought you said Christine was pregnant! Is there something I'm missing out on here?"

"I'm talking about normal quirks of humans, Beck." Ash said. "Genes quirk one way and you're a boy. Quirk another and you're smart. Quirk another and your hair starts out classic blonde and then darkens to that. I'm not Sine, after all. No experimenting on my kids."

"Oh."

"Don't worry about it, Beck. I don't expect you to know everything." Christine said, holding out her baby. "Say hi, Athena!"

Athena instead appeared to blow a raspberry at Beck. Or the baby equivalent, anyway.

Now Beck felt even sillier. That was just like a Kobber, to jump to conclusions like that. Or even a robot. He'd been built in a basement, he had no idea how genes work - it seemed like half the time, Grandpa had just assumed he would already know these things. What was the use of giving him the most advanced brain ever if he made slip-ups like that...?

Then Athena blew a raspberry at him, and he decided not to think about it too much.

"Pbpbpbpt yourself!" he retorted. Athena laughed and did it again, procuring a raspberry-off. Christine carefully put her daughter down.

"Just keep an eye on her for a few more minutes Beck. Don't stress it. Just be happy for her."

"Oh, and don't transform. No offense, but she might get scared. Just be 'Boo'." Ash said.

"Dah bah di, dah bah die." Sam's voice drifted in from the next room.

Beck nodded. "Got it. I'll look after her, don't you worry." He moved around to where Athena was, then cast his eyes around the room, looking for any toys or books that might amuse her. A shame he wasn't allowed to transform - imagine the fun she'd have, racing around the room on her own personal dune buggy.

"So, how's life been? Trouble here not giving you too much grief?" By 'Trouble' he meant Athena, of course.

"If this is torture, chain me to the wall." Ash said. Christine glanced sidelong at him. "...It sounded better in my head."

"It's been quiet, thankfully. But of course, we can't go back to the Bar for more adventures. We have responsibilities here now."

"For now." Another sidelong glance. "Just saying."

"For that, YOU can start taking the notes."

"Oh joy, recording what scummy noble wants what land pocket."

"And the Drumming."

"And the Drumming."

"...the Drumming?" Oooooh, boy...

"Yeah, it's some fad combat technique. It involves this trick where you think of a song in your head and you use it as fuel for your powers. A sort of roundabout motivational power up." Ash said. He had no idea where it had come from, and would never discover that it had been built on a mental technique possessed by a man known as August Caine. "We call it Drumming because, you know, marching to the beat of your own drummer."

"It's likely to cause more harm than good." Christine said. "The last thing you want to do in a fight is distract yourself. We're trying to decide if we should put some sort of restriction on it before some kids get themselves killed using it."

Oooo-kay." Truth be told, Beck was rather guilty of playing music in his own head when he thought. Scratch that, he had his own private playlist - dramatic entrances, underdog moments, epic power-ups... As much as he had learned from his experiences from last year, he still had a touch of the old glory-hog running deep inside him.

Probably best not to mention that to these two, though. In fact... find playlist... delete...

There we go.

"Is that what you're discussing in the next room?" he asked. "I wondered why it went quiet."

"Pretty much." Ash said. "That's peace for you. Much less exciting talking, more just plain...talking talking."

"MAI BOIIIIIIIIIIIIII...THIS PEACE IS WHAT ALL TRUE WARRIORS STRIVE FOR." Sam said.

"We should get back in there before our other guests think we brought a lunatic to the discussion table." Christine said.

"Probably too late for that..." Ash said, the pair heading out the door.

Beck, having found a classic rattle, shook it for Athena. Athena pouted and then grabbed at the rattle, wanting it for herself.

"Oh, alright!" Beck laughed, and handed the rattle over. "Here, lemme find a xylophone. We might be able to start a band, if you're really good!"

Athena promptly bonked Beck on the nose.

"YEOW!" Beck staggered, clutching his nose. That hurt way more than it should have done, even coming from Ash's kid.

"Jeez, what you been eating for breakfast, kid?" he asked, rubbing the sore spot.

"Meh-beh?" Athena said. Dropping the rattle, she reached up and felt Beck's face, like she was confused what she had done.

"Nah, it's fine..." Beck removed his hands, revealing the soreness of his nose. It felt worse than it looked, that was all.

"...Eck!"

Beck smiled. "Yeah. That's me, kid."

---

(To see a non-Drumming, ie non song lyrics version of this scene, click here)

Somewhen else.

The strangest things survived the end of the world. Chocolate. Bathroom slippers.

Halloween.

Of course, it wasn't called Halloween any more, or Hallow's Eve. The name was Reqinhist, which was Hemel and roughly translated to 'Relinguished Growth', a celebration of final thanks for the harvest and an appeal that the winter not be too cruel, a celebration for those who had died and would yet die. The sweets came from that celebration, the costumes from the concept that those left unmourned could walk the earth, vengeful and cruel and eager to drag others away into the abyss of death. But such spirits were fools and cowards, or so the stories went, and hence could be confused or scared away if those they sought to prey on wore masks of disguise and/or fear. So, in the end, not much had changed save the name and memories.

Oh, and one other thing. Monsters really did exist here.

Especially here, in the Glove. So named because of an odd tint in the soil made it look somewhat like a hand from above, the area was divided into several cities, towns, and territories, but its nickname came both from the shape, and from the fact that outside of the safe areas, it was more dangerous than the average place where fell beasts lurked. This, of course, attracted more than its fair share of thrillseekers and namemakers...and of course, the beasts that preyed on those whose reach exceeded their grasp.

Of course, there were ways of avoiding danger, even in a place like this, some extranormal, and some common sense. If, for example, more people than normal had vanished going along a certain path, and no one had gotten out there to investigate yet, then it seemed smart to just take the long route, and only take the other route in case of emergencies.

She didn't have an emergency.

She took it anyway.

So when you meet your end...
Your journey just began...
Transcend the world of man...
And never wake again...

It's official name was the Sopwith Glades, a few dozen square miles of misty forest. Its more official name was the 'Sopping Wet' Glades, because the trees and swamps of the forest were constantly awash in chill humidity, water beading on anything in seconds and soaking most anything in minutes. It was a rotten place if you didn't have the equipment for it, killing people through exposure if they didn't bring the right equipment to retain body heat, and constantly inflicting people with colds, coughs, and other lung maladies. Between that, and the fact that it was virtually impossible to start a fire, no one came to the Glades for a vacation. They came to hunt, or to take a swift path.

Her hood wasn't red; it was actually a sallow yellow. And she wasn't confronted by wolves. Wolves of several stripes might have been better, as the spear rammed into the ground right in front of her.

She stopped. She glanced up from beneath her hood, shadows hiding most of her features. On her waist were several figures of clay and straw, and as the spear was yanked back on a crude rope, she plucked one off and lifted it to her mouth.

"Smelled me out. Hold back."

The figures were twice her height, scarecrow-like forms that wore rotten furs, if anything. There were six of them, spindly bones and twisting muscles, their skins as pale as a dead fish, their triangular faces crammed with sharp teeth and dark blue eyes lacking pupils, the gaze of menacing turquoise. From long bony fingers extended talons that could tear metal and fillet flesh, greenish tongues flicking over barely there lips.

"Lithefiends."

There was no answer. Not like there would be. It was just a small clay figurine, crafted with care, but being just that.

"I smell...the blood of a womb." One of the lithefiends said. One of the nastier monsters of the land, lithefiends were among the twenty percent of sapient creatures that roamed the land, and would be fully capable of most human traits, if they didn't all seem to just want to hunt and feed on living meat. Even Ihmensel’jk could settle down and live quietly without hurting anyone: lithefiends seemed much more determined to wear a singular hat.

"Rude ones." The girl said, and put her doll back on her waist. That prompted some high-pitched growls, though the spear thrower quieted them with a louder snarl.

"M'kin and I were content to cut quickly, manchild, but for throwing us insult, we be making sure this forest swallows your screams."

So they wanted to eat her. And it seemed like they wanted to now carve her up first. Six of them. The average warrior on this world would have trouble with one. Against six, even random members of the 44 would be in danger. And in this forest...

Sopping Wet. What clever boys. Lithefiends had one last highly annoying trick. They had unnatural regenerative ability, unless subjected to the touch of fire. If you didn't burn the beasts, they could shrug off many wounds that would be mortal, even surviving intense dismemberment, and according to some rumors, decapitation. And here in this dark forest's misty, murky grip, water making its home in beads and drops everywhere, you'd be hard pressed to summon up Stream-summoned flame, let alone anything traditional.

"You the ones making people disappear?"

"There be many fat fools wandering these trees lately, yes!" Spear said, sounding pleased. "I'm afraid though, if you wish to offer some up, m'kin are hungry NOW. You will fill our bellies while we seek them out ourselves."

"Fry'cair!" One of the others said. He was addressing Spear. He was smaller than the rest of the lithefiends, and unlike them, was not advancing.

"What?"

"She shows no fear!"

"Then she is a fool or mad! Or arrogant." Fry'cair said.

"She does not threaten us, or boast! She draws no weapon! She just stands there." Small Fry said.

"Less work for us!"

"Brother, all men seek defense, in fear or not! Maybe we should..."

"Should WHAT?"

The girl opened a small pack, pulling out some kind of baked bun.

"...She EATS! Brothers, chills run through me! She is more than she appears! She is more trouble than she is worth! Let us be wise, and turn away."

"You are a coward, B'utur! You deserve none of her meat!"

"Oh, I'm not that ungenerous." The girl said, taking a bite out of the bun, cheese and potatoes mixed with onions and peppers inside. "Bite?"

The first lithefiend leapt.

Here come the drums.


She tossed the bun into the air, even as she unhooked her cloak, casting it on the ground as she pressed something, a jewel set into the leathers of her outfit. Her hair was black as pitch, cut in a short bob. She had sharp, thin features, ones that could have been much improved with a little makeup that she didn't care to wear. She couldn't have been any older than fourteen.

Her pale skin rippled, and then RIPPED.

Night metal ripped up from beneath the flesh, the sound of grinding teeth and snapping bones echoing through the forest as it locked over the skin, her knees, shoulders, back, and face all sprouting the same ebony sharpness. In less than a second, she had nastier claws than the lithefiends. And a lot more.

I didn't come to drop bars, I'll be setting them high
There ain't no other hunter better than I
Ever been scared? Never have I
Cuz when I arrived you could say I already had died
You'd better catch every line of this manifesto of mine
Some might call me a demon, I just call it divine
You can't show respect, well that sure is a crime
Because I'm taking humanity up a level tonight

Lithefiends could shrug off many wounds.

So many weapons I can never decide
You'd better be try'n to stay a step ahead in the fight
Be light on your feet and keep your fire alight
If you don't want to meet your maker
By the end of the night

They could NOT shrug off, or endure, being deboned like a fish, metal erupting from its roots and passing through wirey muscle and bone like it was akin to the mists of the Sopwith Glades, manipulated lengths in the vein of chains and whips crossed with razors rending the monster apart in the space of two seconds.

The epidemic still spreading, possessing so many minds
I'll never let this endemic infection get into mine
I got monsters to hunt, bring an end to their times
If any devil messes with me, then the devil may cry

The mess splattered around her. Her eyes were a lovely blue with gold flecks. And far colder than the forest could ever be.

I wanna see if your blood is any redder than mine

B'utur had been very, VERY right.

Tell me, what do you see when you look into my eyes
Because what I see first is the demon deep inside
Evil blood in my veins is the reason I'm alive
Now my darkened heart beats
And I know it won't be over when I die

Whether Fry'cair would have pressed the attack or retreated was a question that would never be answered. The girl was as inhuman in speed as in butchery, blurring forward.

When you enter my yard, it will not be long
Before it's your coffin door you're knocking on
Bleak trees and copses stand awful tall
At least try to appreciate the rustic charm

There was an allegory for grappling someone successfully: tying them up in knots.

The literal reality of it was far more unpleasant.

Just take a look at what the blood has done
How could I hate the monsters, I'm becoming one
Pick up the Wondrous and put some ringmail on
Cuz it's the food chain that you at the bottom of

To add insult to fatal injury, the girl kicked the mess she had made, sending it flying forward and crashing through several trees, a little more blunt force trauma to drive the point home.

The Seething is hungry, here's option one:
Drop your tail and hands and start to run!

The third lithefiend got to take a step back.  Then she was behind him.

I got the blood of a hunter, I do not give up
I ain't waiting around for when the sun is up

The impaling blades pinned him in place. The leaping elbow to the head send force rippling down through the beast's body, not so much breaking as pulverizing every single bone it passed through.

I got a lot of problems that I gotta solve
I mean, I slaughter monsters and I talk to dolls

When it fell, she stomped on its neck, popping its head off like a cork.

You know blood runs cold out here in the Glove
Welcome to my nightmare, WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE?

She could sense them, the fear spiking through them. Too bad. They'd made their intentions clear, and their location took conventional methods off the table. They probably thought it made them next to invincible. What it really did in this case was force the crossing of lines.

She wouldn't lie: she still kind of liked it.

Tell me, what do you see when you look into my eyes
Because what I see first is the demon deep inside
Evil blood in my veins is the reason I'm alive
Now my darkened heart beats
And I know it won't be over when I die

The fourth one got a chance to run, and did, taking to the trees like a monkey. The girl snapped fingers clad in rage and death, black sparks manifesting into a crackling ball of power. She hurled it after him.

You know, I brought the ruckus if you don't got it, punk
I'm running circles around you as I dodge and duck
Headstones fall before me cuz I'm awful tough
You should raise a drink to me, bottoms up!

She then put her hand to her mouth, folding it into a circle as she inhaled, like she was about to blow a dart.

It was a dart, of the same black power, that flew into the ball and sent it shooting across the forest like lightning. The fourth arguably got mercy. He was blown into a thousand fine chunks before he really knew what had happened.

What kinda goods you got? You'd better cough them up
I'll take a blade to carve and then a saw to cut
Maybe a chain to whip you then I'll chop you up
And then serve what's left of you to the dogs I got

And then there were two. B'utur and the other one.

"Wait, girl, wait! WE SURRENDER! WE WILL NOT FIGHT!" B'utur said, almost prostrating himself. He had had a bad feeling about the girl, but even in his worst fears could he have assumed she would be THIS strong, this merciless. It was like winning the lottery, except in a negative way. She hadn't even been LOOKING for them; she'd just been heading through the forest and they'd smelled meat.

Lithefiends never surrendered, but it was clear they could never run. It seemed like his last lone companion had the same idea, as he was also making gestures of surrender.

"We...merely wanted food! We...did not mean...harm!" B'utur said, trying to find words that indicated that yeah, they wanted to eat her, but it was nothing PERSONAL. That might not have seemed like much...but the gifts of enlightment the girl had been granted by birth had given it a certain weight. There were a lot worse things than killing because you were hungry, even if you were killing something that would beg you not to.

Right?

I'm blinded by the eyes I have
Because they lie to hide the facts
Spending time in winding labyrinths
Try to find the truth that's behind the vast

"...Neither do I." The girl said.

Then she cut the non-named lithefiend in half at the waist, before seizing B'utur by all four limbs and skipping the hanging and drawing.

And there she left them.

I'm just a girl in Violentclad
But with all this insight I have

The midnight metal shifted back beneath the skin. She retrieved her cloak and, with some distaste, her bun. She was good, but she wasn't good enough to toss her food up in the air and deal with the danger in the time it took to came down. She'd instead tried to aim it so the bun landed on her cloak. No dice.

Oh well, that was what Hands were for, as she removing a cleaning charm while walking past the carnage, tidying up her meal. Despite his deep pain, and the pain to come as he tried to get his limbs lined back up and re-attached, B'utur watched her go.

I'll crack these hollow chests open wide and laugh
Enlightenment can drive you mad

---

The tavern Mourning Light, in the town of Cinsmoth, on the other side of the Sopwith Glades.

Enough travel for now. She still had a few days to spare before she got to the school. Especially since she wasn't the one enrolling.

Plus, she had friends to see along the way.

"Hey Julie!"

The speaker was not human, but looked close to it. Another one of the sapient monster species of this world. The name they took was the Cubis'on, though others tended to refer to them with the mouthful of a name: Fortunefavored. This one, Decre, still hadn't quite mastered assuming the fully human glamor the beings could have, leaving it with very squinty eyes, little hair, and alarmingly long canines and incisors. Not that she cared. Those were just details.

It was what was inside that counted.

"You're later than I thought. Run into trouble?"

"...nope." She said, "None at all."

Tell me, what do you see when you look into my eyes
Because what I see first is the demon deep inside
Evil blood in my veins is the reason I'm alive
Now my darkened heart beats
And I know it won't be over when I die

-----

Slang Terms <---- Explained here