The sharp tang of Quartech gun smoke filled the air, sharp retorts of gunshots and the hiss crack of bullets whizzing past kept Ceres low as she raced along the gunwhale. The XtoC legionaries had rallied quickly even despite their lack of commander and Candace’s pirates were struggling to find the foothold on seed eater point. A sharp crack of gunfire and a spray of wood chips stinging into her leg made her whirl, rifle meeting her shoulder as she sighted in on the sniper rising above battlefield in a small war balloon. The Zew Crew ran on, trusting her to handle threats at range. She whistled loudly.
“Caustus!” She called stridently, before whispering a breath of magic into her weapon. The seed of potential nestled itself into the bullet as the dark shape of her drake raced overhead, flying like a ballista bolt loosed towards the war balloon. Rifle stock met her shoulder, her finger light on the trigger, the iron site met her target, HsssssCRK! The quar engaged and her rifle bucked into her shoulder.
The shot spun the sniper as it impacted before exploding into a volley of flechets that ripped through the balloon and basket. The rig began to sink, falling down towards the legion below as Caustus raced in, unable to breath more than sparks- but it was enough. The gas leaking from the balloon ignited with a WOOSH that tore through the air like a storm wind to knock the legionnaires to the ground, scattering as the burning structure crashed down into their midst.
“NOW,” Candace yelled! “Over the side! Close quarters! JACKJAWS, CHARGE!”
TJ lept the gunwhale, flaring with sorcery as he unsheathed his blade. Ceres looked to Kermy, who nodded, they were in this. She slung the rifle and unholstered her pistols, following her comrades up the dock into chaos
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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i feel like. perhaps. the tma hiatus has been good for me to try new podcasts. so far ive listened to limetown (really well made and fun for Conspiracies!) and the white vault (creepy arctic horror) and im thinking next ill look at old gods of appalachia. but another plus is its exciting to think ill get to listen to tma s5 one episode at a time, week by week? i didn't get that experience with the other seasons cuz i listened after they were all released. so im hyped for that suspense
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Comparing your unresolved love for your best friend to roses may seem a bit cliched, but to Stan it seemed perfect. The red hair, his sweet scent, the beauty that radiates off of him. Stan has it bad. But is a broken heart stronger than the love for another? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything. As his life spirals out of control and he learns things about himself that leaves him feeling empty and he finally reaches his breaking point. Who will be there to hold his hand and kiss away the bruises when it all comes crashing down?”
Ikavod the Cleric, Tevildo the Pugilist , and Rain the Ranger! They, along with Pent, work under their Iadro Rizzick to upend the secret peace of Ungren between the thieves guild and nobility.
As they’ve begun to unravel a massive conspiracy tied into the founding of the city and its fabled heroes, they’ve found themselves pitted against the hag covens that claim territory in the city, the powerful Dukes and lords, and secretly the other houses of the thieves guild.
As their heists and resistance to the powers that be grows in scope and their pasts and secrets come out, the stakes grow ever higher. In a city beset on all sides by factions seeking to exploit the people, the fickle thieves will have to steal their victory and the freedom of Ungren from those who seek to exploit it. And who knows, maybe they’ll get rich along the way.
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Mira stumbled backward as rounds from an assault rifle ripped through the window and wall she had been cowering behind. The hand cannon in her hand was near empty - two rounds left, it was a chance. The door splintered under a heavy boot, but the bar held, light shown in from the drone sailing around her assailants. She began to run, her boot landed on something that gave, rolled, she fell, gunfire ripped through the bar in the door. She rolled onto her back as the armored lightbearer stepped into the room, reloading, head swiveling.
BLAM!
BLAM!
The armor clad figure fell back and Mira scrambled, even as the drone opened up and the lifeless figure began to twitch and groan. She slammed through the back door, away from the warlords, away from the assailants, away from the three bodies she’d left in that small village house-
The air of the steppe was cold and dry and burned her lungs as she ran. Her face hurt, her eyes pricked and burned, her long blue black hair streamed behind her. The sunset burned the whole sky orange, as her feet found crumbling pavement of the ancient highway. The rusted heaps of cars abandoned as their long dead drivers sought the relative hope of the Exodus program lined her route. There had been no hope though.
A knoll ahead, lined with wildflowers. She could take cover- She never heard the shot that took her hip, spinning her around and throwing her painfully to the ground. She gasped, shock flooding her system, heart pounding her warm blood out into the already chilled crumbly soil. She gasped another breath, as the black began to tunnel out her vision. She clawed her fingers into the dirt, coughed, felt blood fleck her lavender lips and chin. A thought pushed itself to the forefront through the pounding haze of adrenaline, shock, pain, and whatever force had sustained her now for years beyond even a golden age lifetime.
“Sister,” came a voice, “I don't know what the hell you have to smile about.”
Her eyes drifted up to a green pendant. Jade. The man pushed back his headband over his dark hair, he had fresh cuts along his cheek. She was smiling. Weird.
‘I can't hurt anyone anymore.’
BLAM!
Mira sat up, cloak thrown aside as her sword swung into the air thrumming with void. The smell of ozone brought her to wakefulness, and she let the honed blade fall to the battered futon she called a bed. The dream clung to her, like the chunks of degraded asphalt in her palms. She was sheathed in sweat. Tried to stabilise her breath, shuddered instead. She clutched for Enkidu… fingers finding nothing, Enkidu, En-
“Kidu?” She sobbed. My light?
“Help?”
She looked, and then stared as her heavy cloak shifted and rose partially from it's place on the ground as a glow illuminated the dense fabric from within. It wobbled to and fro. Pressed upwards,then sank back down.
“I can't get out.” came Enkidu’s muffled voice.
She snorted softly and moved and sat on the floor, the stone cool and smooth on her bare legs as she pulled the layers of tangled fabric away from her ghost. His smooth black and gold shell and bright diamond shaped eye greeted her momentarily. His shell spun, embarrassed, then clamped slightly in concern..
She smiled a watery smile, “Hi.” cupping him into her hands gently.
“Hi,” he said, hesitating, “bad dream?”
She nodded, pulling him to her chest as her heartbeat began to slow, curling around him.
“Im here.” he said, now muffled against her skin, though she could feel the vibrations he made as he spoke, “it's just a dream.”
But it wasn't. It wasn't a dream the first time she’d had it on the moon after freeing a shard of the traveler. It wasnt a dream when she’d had it again after destroying the black heart and becoming a legend among guardians. It hadnt been a dream on Europa, when she and Dusty and Dullahan-12 had gone seeking the powers of stasis and the truth of their origins. Savathun’s throne world and deepsight had proven that, Ahsa and the Veil made it incontrovertible.
Mira was exactly what her enemies had dubbed her as, and had been before her weapons were ever turned on them. Mira was a murderer.
Ok so its been ages but I finished this chapter and Im working on Chapter 3!
In which Mira has a conversation with Dullahan-12.
Day:3,322
Chapter 2
Tired Mechanical Hearts
Hours later found Mira and Dullahan-12 walking the wall of the Last City, with Enkidu and Chester drifting after them a ways back, deep in their own conversations. Dusty had rescued Crow from his crowd of fans and the two were taking time in the hangar to work on the Interceptor. They had waved Dullahan and Mira off and the two had wandered aimlessly away from the new tower, passing through the Annex, then climbing back around the other side to follow the wall as they walked. Cold wind blew off the mountains as their path arced around the perimeter of the wall. Dullahan kept looking to the lights of the City, or rather the open space above it, now busy with the fleets of Earth’s allies.
“It's weird isnt it?” Mira said, glancing toward the massive titan
“Yeah.” he rubbed his neck.
She wondered where that mannerism had begun, whether it was in his first life as a human, something he’d picked up after becoming Exo, or even later: an affectation that appeared after being risen as a guardian. She never recalled if he’d told her if he’d been reset, whether he had any memories from before.
“To be honest, I always figured it would go down rather than up,” he said.
She nodded.
“Figured the Darkness would want to crash it down into us, right? Crush us beneath our protector— seemed like the kind of sick joke it would make.”
She shrugged, “The Witness doesn't seem so self satisfied. It’ll kill us, sure, but it's more of a cruel calculus thing. It's got more of that joy-sucking-power-hungry-god-of-death vibe y’know?”
“Sure sure, Glad to see you taking the possibility of our impending doom in stride.”
“What else am I supposed to do Han? Fret about it? The Witness passed through the Portal into the Traveler weeks ago now. For all we know it could be arming a weapon or something in there as we speak. The entire planet could be dust in moments, along with all of us. Might as well die putting a smile on that sour face of yours.” she elbowed him, harder than was necessary.
“Ow!”
She giggled and danced out of his reach as he attempted to hip check her, flipping him the bird.
“C’mere you!” He laughed, lunging after her as she dodged away. She tried jumping but he was already there, his reach longer than she anticipated, his hand catching her boot. He yanked her back down to earth, and she slammed down onto her back. The breath left her lungs in a whoosh as she hit the concrete. Ches and Kidu hovered a few feet back, bobbing faintly in the breeze watching their guardians roughhouse.
He paused over her, concern flitting over his face, “Oh shit, you good?”
She held up a finger as she sucked in a single gasping breath, then another one.
“Hit your head or anything?” He said as he moved to stand over her, offering her a hand up.
A hand she gladly took as she heaved him forward towards her, planting her feet against his chest-plate and sending him ass over teakettle over top her head. He crashed with a heavy clank, rolling and cursing along the concrete walkway as she used the momentum of the maneuver to kip up, turning smugly to see him roll to a sprinters stance, embers of solar light fizzling out of him as he grinned at her.
“Ah fu-”
He charged, slamming her backwards into the wall of a disused guard station. She yelped, but his hand was behind her head before it would have bounced off the stone behind her. She was fully lifted off her feet, chest to chest with Dullahan, pinned to the wall, one of his hands holding her belt to support her weight while the other cradled her head. His face was close, she could see the lights in his eyes and below his faceplate, flickering as he scanned her face. She settled her head back in his palm as warmth rushed low in her belly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew his hand from her belt to her hip. She grinned, biting her lip, and wiggled against him experimentally, suddenly frustrated by the layers of leather and metal and cloth between them. His fingers slid to grip her ass. She hummed at the touch
“It has been a while” She confessed, voice low.
“I wont tell anyone how rusty you've gotten.” He breathed, eyes tracing her lips.
She exhaled through her nostrils and grabbed his face, tilting him up to her as she leaned down, pressing a kiss to his mouth. Kissing an exo was always an interesting experience, their bodies were pleasantly warm, and the little vibrations and motions of Han’s mouthparts against her lips made her smile. He nipped at her lower lip, and she slipped her tongue into his mouth, feeling the familiar and pleasant buzz there, tasting the remnants of the alcohol he’d drunk. Eventually she pulled back, leaning her forehead on his, eyes closed and catching her breath.
As she opened her eyes to look at him, she caught a glimpse of Enkidu and Chester, a ways away. She locked eyes with her ghost for a moment before his gaze moved past her, then turned back to Dullahan, cupping his face. But she was all too aware of the world outside herself now.
“Mira?” Han said after a moment.
She leaned back and smiled softly at him, “Sorry Han, I don't think I can go further than this.”
“Ah, ok,” He said, smoothly setting her back to her feet and rubbing his neck again, “Sorry, I didnt mean to ah… back you into a corner.”
“No no, you didnt! I mean you did but- It was good. Nice even. It's not like it's the first time we've ever… I liked it.” She finished, lamely.
He nodded and ducked his head, stepping back to the path, “Okay. We should probably start heading back then, make sure Dusty isnt getting up to too much trouble now that he’s back around people.”
“Yeah.”
They walked in silence for a few moments..
“You think I have a sour face?” He asked quietly.
She snorted sharply, a grin cracking through the stiff face she’d been composing “I think you’re far too pretty to be frowning like that all the time! You’ll get wrinkles!”
“I’m an Exo. Exo don’t get wrinkles”
“Light! I feel bad for Dusty having to put up with your dry ass all the time.” She laughed, ambling up to one of the large squared off battlements and jumping atop of it, bouncing off of the air with little counter thrusts of paracausal energy to direct her upwards.
“Are the ramparts of the humongous wall not high enough for you?” He asked, brow raising.
“It’s not about height,” she said, “I’ve told you this. It’s about eyeline. I want to be able to see, with nothing in my way.”
He sighed and jumped after her, boosting with his own power to land next to her on the battlement, bumping her with his hip as he found a seat on the cool concrete and looked out to the mountains.
She stood with her back to him for a moment as she scanned the horizon before settling down beside him.
“Whats out there?” He asked, watching her as she continued to stare out into the darkness.
“Danger. Only not the same as it always was. It's sharper, harder, More desperate now. We have more to gain. More to lose.”
“We’ll make it through this Mira. Guardians make their own fate.” He paused, “none more so than you.”
“Yeah. I wish I could feel certain- I’m just… Im off kilter.” she glanced over to him, then past, to Ches and Kidu, quietly floating and speaking a ways away, shells spinning now and then for emphasis.
Han watched her and her gaze, before turning back to her, “Everything alright between you? This about Neomuna? You never really explained.”
She shrugged, “I don't know. Honestly we were never more in sync than when we arrived on Neptune. We knew the score and each other, worked together to figure out how to harness Strand, to explore and protect this new bastion of humanity and Osiris. He was with me the whole way… and I wasn't there for him. Not when it mattered.”
“Have you talked with him?”
“How am I supposed to talk to him about this?” She asked, “How do I even breach the subject? What amount of apologizing is enough?”
“So you need to apologize to him?” Han cocked a brow at her, waiting for details as she struggled to find words.
“Yes! No.. I don't know!” Mira said, curling into a ball and resting her chin on her knees.
“Mira, I don't know what happened when the Witness beat you guys to the Veil but it's ok. Like you said: ‘Power Hungry God of Death.’ They can be implacable- they usually are. You and Kidu both made it out. That's what matters.”
She chewed her lip, listening to him, but her mind was thousands of miles away.
“I'm gonna head back. Don't stay out here all night.” Han said, squeezing her shoulder with one massive hand before standing and jumping down to the rampart and ambling away.
She sat for a while longer, letting the breeze tease her hair back, chewing her lip. She heard the slight whir of Enkidu flying in close to her, settling into her hood.
“I hope Chester and I weren't an… impediment.” He said, “it's been a long time since you've seen each other.”
Her lips quirked a little, “No it's okay. I wanted to want it more than I wanted it.”
“Okay.” She could feel his shell twisting as he settled into her hood, the weight familiar, slight against her back.
“The wind is cold.” he said, “take care you don't get chilled,”
‘Yes mom.” She sighed, but she stood with a slight chuckle and dropped back down to the battlements, back to the world. The wind was cold, though she’d weathered worse. She would have to weather worse again soon, and all she wanted was to crumble.
And so the Wildlings come to the crux of their adventure. Four years in the making, hundreds of sessions later, the mystery unravels, the world is revealed.
The lifeblood of a god pools before you, spooling out the memories and knowledge of a cosmic scale.
Murin’s wound, the excised knowledge of the greatest civilization to grace Asterta’s long history spilling forth, moments of discovery and honing of fact and truth, of principles and physical laws, of the depths and breadths a mind can expand to, millions of moments of ingenuity, creativity, creation, solution and exploration, the limitless power of the mind and those capable of making their imaginings real, all play out in grand succession.
You see it all, revelation after revelation, each more dire than the last.
You watch the death of Rhiannon at the hands of Lolth and Khalishira, wielding the tools of Death Dealer, reconstitution an impossibility- her power and her corpse claimed by the final wastes.
You watch the conflagration of War between Noctuln and Solra spurred on by the death of the moon goddess. You see how no one was able to escape the conflict, no one emerged untouched.
You see balance returned at the hands of Resha, ending an age of devastating war.
You see redress in the creation of the Veil by the pantheon, the divine gate to keep Asterta, the material plane and her sister planes safe from the machinations of the divine and profane.
You see generation of heroes striking down, imprisoning and reforming the last ancient evils and righting wrongs. The growth of the Pantheon.
You see the veil, refracting and rebounding the ambient energy of Asterta, the birth of those linked indelibly to that power, the rise of the arcane.
You watch the rise of the super society of the Veilborn around the peoples of Asterta, the steady uplift of generations, the rise of the Septarchs, their pursuit of arcane mysteries the world had never conceived of.
You watch the Septarchs make advancements, make mistakes, make their choices, fight against the machinations of despots and demons. You watch them confront Death Dealer over the creation of the Heart. You see the moment their gaze turns outward.
You watch, with horrible irony the events that unfold next. The long years of theory crafting rituals of binding no being could break, of creating pocket dimensions to imprison the greatest foes they could scarcely conceive of. Of creating impenetrable and unyielding edifices of stone that could withstand not only damage but eons of time. You watch the rise of the portal network and the super highways and flying cities. You watch the Veilborn Scion grow ever more removed from the fervor of the Septarchs. The closing of his thoughts to the hive mind of the Veilborn, and their desire to uplift and protect the world and peoples that bore them.
All of the fragments of memories you have carried throughout your lives begin to fall into place. You watch as the ritual begins, Tulqar and her cadre enacting its final preparations, connecting Asterta to far reaches of the dark tapestry- to the final wastes beyond the Veil, beyond the divine realms of the gods.
You watch as a deity, dead and nearly forgotten, reformed into an nascent evil, indelibly linked to the fate of Asterta takes notice and is pulled, screaming into a reality that breaks by very contact with it. You watch the chains of energy lashing it, bending it, breaking it to the purpose of the Veilborn.
Proof of concept, Deus noblis servé.
You watch the arrival of the Veilborn Scion, Horon’s attack on the entity. The breaking of the ritual, the battle where he withered half of Tulqars body. The unleashing of terrible magics as the being broke its bindings and from it and the portal poured forth unknowable horrors not meant for this reality.
You watch their battle tear apart the city, and Horon’s eventual defeat of the entity. You watch the first confrontation of the Septarchs and their leader. You watch hubris clash with hubris. As the ripples of this betrayal radiated out across the Veilborn society, you watch the fury of the Veilborn against Horon be matched only by their determination to repeat the ritual.
You watch Horon’s one man war begin. Who could resist the Veilborn Scion of time? You watch the genocide. You watch the Septarchs failures, their plans, the desperation. You watch the sundering play out as the world fractured under the weight of this conflict.
You watch the fall of Throm Zar and the rise of the new god of death.
You watch the creation of the Septarchs final gambit, their final hope. The fracturing of their souls into new vessels, into aetherium cores meant to be placed into Warforged constructs. You watch each of the Septarchs divest themselves of their souls, and their deaths at the hands of Horon and the seven bonds. You watch Quarl gearturn, Veilborn Septarch of eternity, killed before he can finish his preparations in his labs benath the Telas basin. You watch Horon take pity on the trapped souls of his onetime friends… and abandon them to their prison.
You watch the world collapse, thousands of refugees, ancestral lands abandoned. War, famine, disease, the horrible aftershocks of the genocide of the Veilborn. You watch the rise of doomsday cults seeking an end at the hands of the great being who destroyed the greatest Veilborn city in a single night. You see them clamoring for their absent lord to bring an end to the suffering of a world.
You watch Horon approach the god of knowledge with an idea, to protect the world, to undo some of the damage, and to prevent the repetition of hubris. Excision. Horon would unname the Veilborn, cut their memory free from Murin and suture the wound, ensuring that none would ever know of their truth and ensure no one could follow in their footsteps and threaten the world with such devastation again. You watch Murin agree.
You watch a lone Veilborn man, possibly the last, starving, full of hate, find the resting place of a twice fallen god where it putrefied and was consumed by the worms and maggots of a far distant reality. You watch him eat the dead gods flesh. Hunger never ceasing, you watch him eat. And eat and eat, his hatred and the dead gods hatred becoming one. Hatred of the ones who bound it, hatred of the ones who caused this, hatred of the ones who killed it, hatred of all of existence. You watch as he becomes one with the carrion, one with the rot and worms. You see the formation of Wrglth Nhegal the worm hunger, as it delves deep into the depths unending to gestate and grow his swarm. No longer star spawn but core spawn. You watch as its attention turns outward just like that of the Septarchs it so despises.
An age forgotten, a people destroyed, a world shattered and rebuilt shattered again. A world in a new age of progress.
You watch every moment and decision that lead to you- The children of Telas falls, and Irdenspire to be burdened with a conflict and power and responsibility almost too great to fathom. This thing is so much bigger than all of you, and yet you are the fulcrum on which the world rests. You will decide the future and it will be on your shoulders which the consequences rest no matter how it plays out. It will be your responsibility to do whatever you think is right.
The god of knowledge lays before you, bleeding golden blood. What will you do?
