#riece

Some FNaF stuff I finished up last week

You, a vessel for my great intellect. You, chosen above all others. You have made yourself capable. You should be proud.

Child, your mind will simply integrate. You will not be denied your own dreams, either. You will forget that your trials took so much from you. You may even forget that you existed.

And that is not painful at all... Is it?

-

Grimrunner.

You aren't supposed to be here.

You felt it too?

Do not speak to me. Do not wear him as a mask. Do not assume you can sway me any other way.

Your heart was never warm, I know that - does that soothe you? - but I am sorry.

Tell me a lie.

No.

... Forgive my hesitation, blight. You will not rob me of any more sleep.

-

Their forces were already scarce. Now they were thinned to one set of partners per acre along a massive ornate wall. Riece, Master Sergeant, guarded the breach - a pile of rubble - alongside her favorite Private First Class, Aremmil. 

Only one casualty so far, but many had been sent back to their outpost twenty miles east to defend against raids.

It was small enough to be ignored by the Mantid, but the Alliance nearby acted like loose bands of dogs - sneaking in, looting scraps, and careening off with tails tucked. Inattentive guards alternately blamed starving wild tigers and “Alliance scum” whenever it was discovered that a bit of rations had gone missing.

Riece and Aremmil were being rushed. Their grips on axe and crossbow respectively tightened. The insectoids’ weapons and limbs clacked, and their collective gurgling summoned the same disgusting turmoil within the elves’ stomachs.

“Double your efforts Private.”

Tremors began in Aremmil’s spine as soon as he registered Riece’s words, and extended to his limbs as he realized she was not simply moving to meet them head-on but cutting narrowly through their lines to the back.

Only a tenth of the Mantid were concerned with cutting either Riece or Aremmil down; most only wanted to breach the wall. Despite, Aremmil was easily overrun. Riece left him to die, and worse, she left the most vulnerable point open.

—

Behind enemy lines, one giant Mantid lay bleeding out, her arm pinned underneath Riece’s axe while the other Mantid seemed to grovel. He was wrestled and forced half prone by Riece’s free hand, which stayed vicelike around a single mandible.

“Your kind simply aren’t allowed past this wall. This wall is my allies’ and mine to defend. You would do well to stay in your land, weakling, or suffer worse fates than your friend here.”

The Mantid’s jaws clacked harmlessly against Riece’s plated digits until she was finished speaking.

“.. Let me gggo.. Klrk- wretch.”

She did - as the one she’d pinned ripped its own pincer, carapace and all, to escape. Riece hefted Thori’endal into both hands, built momentum, and leapt onto that Mantid’s back. Their bodies both hit the ground before the Mantid’s severed head thudded nearby.

—

I am not confident. I am not confident. What possessed me to do that?

Her sabatons tore chunks from the thick grass. From that distance she could barely make out Aremmil lying beneath two Mantid.

A dozen more panting breaths and a few dozen more muffled footfalls later, Riece saw both Mantid over Aremmil fall to the side. She might have smiled.

She was ready to call out to him. “Get up and run to me, now,” but only had she not seen the huge patch of crimson on his left leg that ruined the brightness of his red leathers.

Aremmil was in her arms and charged with carrying her axe. Under the low sun, her plate, and the added weight of someone she betrayed, Riece could only walk. She let Aremmil roll into the grass, figuring the landing soft enough, then turned and raised her arms. She saw Mantid swarming just behind the rubble.

CRACK.

THOOOOM.

BOOM. POP!

Remnants of Mantid rained onto - no, assaulted - the partners.

—

“.. What was that, Master Sergeant?”

“I had to let them think they would get what they wanted.”

“Are you out of your MIND?”

“I don’t see any Mantid that were let through.”

“YOU LET ALL OF THEM THROUGH!” Aremmil grimaced.

“You didn’t.”

“Right. Because I WOULD HAVE DIED. I SHOULD HAVE DIED!”

“Were you scared?”

“I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.”

“What were you fighting for in that moment?”

“My life, Master Sergeant.”

Riece had been following the tracks of a suspicious individual whenever he left them in Stormwind City. She had reported him before, lurking in the cemetery and summoning spinning clouds of Void energy about himself and some single gravesite. Despite the boldness, she could not pin him as dangerous.

Several days later, when Riece had planted herself some ways away with a spyglass and a sketchbook, she watched the same shady Kaldorei dig into the earth as she gave the amateur picture of the nighttime pond a few more strokes. Inconspicuously she watched until he left - with a fuller bag than he’d had upon arriving at the cemetery.

Just before she anticipated the Kaldorei dipping beyond her view, Riece closed her book and approached until she came upon his path and traced it with her plated boots. The man became tense, badly pretending he did not suspect her coming closer, intent on him. Soon it was impossible to deny, and he whirled around.

“Mind your own business.” The voice was gruff, but the request was simple.

Riece did not stop, falter, or reply. Thori’endal flared; just behind the man appeared the flat plane of another land. Her free hand extended and then she was upon him, stuffing him messily into the dimensional tear with her fingertips upon his sternum, her whole weight behind them.

---

“If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear. Listen closely. I am no licensed authority, but I do not act without reasonable suspicion. Do not try to escape, because your life means little enough to me that I will end it.”

The Kaldorei lay half on his rump and half on his lower back, torso propped up by the sack strapped to his upper back. Night before was like daytime compared to the dank, suppressive black that was Duskwood’s quietest hour. The only light came from each of the elves’ eyes.

“Stay seated and remove your luggage.”

“So you have caught me for gravedigging. I have my reasons. My sister was manipul-” “Silence. Remove your luggage.”

* She could have easily looked down upon lower-borne.

* War has not been in her bloodline for long. Her parents took that dangerous mantle.

* Something is wrong if you don’t see purple or gold on her form. And usually, that’s head-to-toe plate.

* No mercy for those who think simple power is the be-all-end-all.

* She will tell you that the opposite of the loud and obvious is what deserves attention.

* Throughout her studies, she carried her rigid facial features so confidently that she was adored because - or at least despite - them.