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(Fictional Short Story) Victory over the Pyrrhic Heart
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Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#1 - 2014-02-14 00:08:22 UTC
(Just in time for Valentine's Day... The continuation of "La Comedie Immortel"... I hope you enjoy it)
("Webbed, scrammed and neuted - this here story cost me a shiny marauder... but it was definitely worth it")

Victory over the Pyrrhic Heart

---


  • Who leads in a war dance of the heart; what is there to show for their victory?
  • "Pyri... I..." those final, fatal words fading away on the wind; stutter in the mind. Then she was gone. Her hand drops. Everything was all gone. Holding onto her rigid form closely, I can still feel the warmth of her blood now running cold in the darkening night air. I give in and let the blackness take me...
  • "Pyri..."
  • Steady and rhythmic is his beating heart; reoccurring dreams and terror jostles Pyri's prone form awake. Drenched; his mind is disheveled at the lingering images floating past. His struggle was the quieting of his now refocused mind. Sitting upright, calmly running his dominate hand back and forth over his shaven head, perhaps in the vain hope of physically wiping away that one memory from the forefront of his mind. A wound reel of single images permanently burned into his dreams, tormented with never forgetting. Pyri never did. His hand drops. He had finally won a battle that he could never understand; this was the way the Amarr had bred his kind, raised to never understand that one aspect of his own being. His recollected thoughts instinctively causes him to run his other hand gingerly over the black scar ceremonially tattooed into the skin covering his heart; a black circle with an inverted black triangle at its base. A denouncement of everything self-branded into his flesh. Pyri "Phlegethon" Sahrnid, no longer Kameira, no longer even Minmatar, was left completely master less; his faith had been consumed, burned along with her lifeless body. A final addition to his collection of scars, each in remembrances of battles fought and survived, blackened by the ash.
  • A chill from the cooler, surrounding air rouses Pyri from his bed; the cold hitting his damp skin was enough of a morning stimulant. His eyes are open and he is very much alert. Standing, Pyri quickly strips down, inclining towards the shower stall. Yet, not before turning on the holovision set mounted and riveted to the wall, preferring to let the random noise fill up the background air while he attempts to shower away the last of the night. Even though he could never admit it to himself, Sahrnid found the vast variety of programming on this holovision set really quite fascinating; a single guilty pleasure which had crept in from his new life. Or maybe it was just an available distraction; something to shield him from reality. Aside from this one luxury though, his quarters were pretty meager. The room itself was situated in a cramped corner of a Gallente space station orbiting over a back water planet in the Gallente Federation. For the most part, it was quiet and the rent here was cheap; for the lesser part, his soul now laments in silence, yet every man here is at least in some way free. The room itself is not very large consisting of four walls, a communications panel attached to another, a bed, a tiny kitchenette with a sink and the shower stall. There is little in the way of Pyri Sahrnid's personal possessions littering any part of this room. A disciplined moral life prefers to live as it always has, humbly and without material or clutter; a few articles of clothing, some empty food and beverage packages carefully strewn about and a pair of polished soldier's boots standing at attention, off in a corner. On opposing sides of the bed, sits 'Dem's Galactic Botanical' and a copy of 'Pax Amarria' for convenient perusing. While patiently situated in the opposite corner of the room, waits a single, small cargo container holding onto his various personal effects, his armor and a tiny arsenal of weaponry; such proper tools needed for his only trade. It was such a striking contrast to the multitude of product logos, slogans and virtual advertisements plastering the walls, as well as the surface of every other available space in this room. It created a stark collage of colour, light, and art, bound by commercialism; a seemingly unneeded necessity plaguing all of the Gallente Federation space, or so Pyri thought. The holovision set now being newly awakened with a warming glow, adds its own monochrome exposure onto the surrounding air. The empty room comes to life with music and scripted dialogue giving new meaning to all of the previous silent images. HSSTSSs. Meanwhile, it is only the falling water rhythmically tapping against his naked form that has any real warming effect on Pyri. A running reminder that he was still alive. He places both hands flat against the wall in front of him, bowing his head under the torrent of water droplets falling from above. He then closes his eyes, losing himself in the hiss and patter of the rain as the stall begins to fill with steam. If only he could forget. "Only through many hardships is a man stripped to his very foundations and in such a state, devoid of distractions, is his soul free to soar and in this he is closest to God... this bit of enlightenment I offer to ALL of you. The wisdom contained in this passage comes from The Scriptures. Book of Missions, chapter 42 verse 5. You mere children, who are ALL so unworthy, are to never forget these teachings so long as you draw breath..." If only he could forget.
    • << "HEY KIDS! Do YOU know what TIME it is? ...
    That's right! Get ready to spend the next hour with Strike Commander DEXTER SAUROT of the INTERGALATIC JUSTICE FEDERATION. Watch as our fearless space hero and his DORU RANGERS bravely fight off the attacks of the evil Iradlac

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...
Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#2 - 2014-02-14 00:11:40 UTC
Empire. Captured alive, will our heroes escape their sure and doomed fate of demented tortures as human enslaving experiments; will the help of Dexter's trustworthy A.I.Ranger units Kopis and Xiphos, arrive in time?? Or is our galaxy finally doomed to total enslavement?! Stay tuned to find out more after a brief word from our generous sponsors...>>

  • With the force of the automated shower stall running at the fullest pressure allotted, and the noise from the holographic images drowning out the room, Pyri misses out on the holographic warning message of the incoming call being repeatedly projected over the glass surface of the panel attached to the opposite wall. A uniquely revolving dance of lights and shimmer gracefully cast out around his shaded room, between the scripted holograms of the monochromic warriors in space and the silicate glass panel; each carry on their own fight for dominance until one finally becomes silent. A message is now left waiting, flashing in warning letters across the screen intended for Sarhnid's immediate attention. His silent vigil of water and contemplative reflection plummet and swirl darkly downward, lost into the vortex of the shower stall drain; like the waters of a flowing river waiting to be reprocessed. Unanswered...
  • The blood quickly pooled, gathering in strength and size; then just as hurriedly, flowed away like tiny rivers down the next available path of least resistance. A six year old child stands victorious over the remnants of a group of bullies, older boys of the House who preyed on the weaker of their kind; she didn't seem weak to him. His hands were clenched; bruised and torn from the sudden fury. In return he had received a savage beating. He still got up. Shaken and sore, standing protectively in front of the unknown little girl. Fists clenched calmly at his side; the blood's slow drip in beat with his heart. His first week of being in this Junior Subigo House was probably the most difficult one in all of his short existence; his masters were soon to teach him otherwise.
  • "My, my, my... What do we have here? You are a fiery little one, aren't you?", the Master Holder asks a bit astonished at the human spirit so alive in so small and so unworthy a creature. "Face the enemy as a solid wall for faith is your armour and through it, the enemy will find no breach. Wrap your arms around the enemy for faith is your fire and with it, burn away his evil... The Scriptures, Amarr Askura 10:3..." He recants aloud, more for himself as if in contemplative pondering. His gaze steels and he again asks in a more authoritative voice to all those present, "Who is the one responsible for starting This FIGHT?!" The impatient anger seethes from his voice; with venom and liquid forming the physical shape of his words.
    • "It was him!” comes a tiny accusing voice piercing through the tense, silent air. All eyes set upon her quiet form. Hers are set upon the battered form of her tiny saviour; finger outstretched singling him out as the assailant. "He was the one who started it."
  • "I will not tolerate this sort of savage disorder in this House! Take this one away, beat him and if he survives the night... toss him in the meditative prayer box for a week. That should teach him a bit of discipline." He once again turns his full attention in that one last moment to the very young boy still standing directly in front of him. "You are a fiery little one... If you should manage to survive this week, I will name you 'Pyri'.", the Master quips jokingly aloud, again more for his own amusement.
  • The young Pyri only grins slightly to himself as he gets led away to receive the full brunt of his punishment, thinking to himself what was always known in his heart, "I knew she wasn't weak."
  • It had rained nearly all week long...
  • Pyri suddenly awakens from his reverie to the shower's full watery blast assaulting his face. Even though his eyelids were drawn closed, the fleeting memory had caused him to reflexively look up, as if unknowingly searching for something; gasping amidst a surprised surge of inhaled water. An instinct which causes a brief spasm of coughing in the now angered Sarhnid. The interrupting physical chaos which ensues creates an ungainly pause from within his meditative cell. He forcibly slams both of his clenched fists against the alloy wall of the cheap metallic stall. If only he could forget. The sound of his heavy hands echoes throughout the room, mingling into the background clutter of the holo series' chorus; a pyrrhic beat ringing out from the confines of a metal war drum. With his reflection falling, cascading through every droplet of the liquid daggers' decent into his choking breast; his dominant hand grasping at the emptiness over his heart. A life of discipline soon returns and Pyri Sarhnid's emotional outburst ends with his other fist unclenching calmly at his side in submission. Turning his back on the pressurized spray, once again closing his eyes in meditation, he cocks his head slightly to the left, preferring this time to allow the water to bite into his neck and shoulder area. Freeing his head allows him to redirect his silent thoughts, becoming once again entangled in the measured beat of his own heart and deep steady breathes.
  • "All things were created by the Divine, and so the glory of our faith is inherent to us all; When thine heart shines with the Light, thou shalt know no hardship; When thine actions are in Light's name, thou art immortal. --- Scriptures... Book of Trials... 2:1." In a trance, Pyri recalls aloud the verbatim from his youth. Actions still seem to speak more than words...
  • Their conversation once again began in the dark after hours; of simple dreams disguised as errant hopes,

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...
Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#3 - 2014-02-14 00:14:37 UTC
whispered in hushed tones from their bunks. 'What does 'Pyri' mean?' 'All Kameira, whether they were young or old, share the same birthday.' 'It was a foolish notion; she couldn't say it out loud.' Through his show of patience over the years, Pyri finally coaxes out her one, long held intimate thought. 'She had always wanted to know what her actual birth day was.' The two soon let the vague whispers fall away to sleep.
  • It was the following after hours, during the deepest part of the night that a young man of fifteen was sneaking stealthily through the administrative halls of the Senior Subigo House; his measured heart beats sure and as soft as the padding of his bare feet across the marbled floors. Sleuth fully seeking knowledge from those who kept it; being detected in any sort of compromising position meant almost certain death. One of the junior administrators' offices was located just up ahead; disabling the locking mechanism on the door would be a simple task. In silence, he slyly enters the room, confident that this office would be the one to offer him the access he needed. His lets his senses adjust to the newer, confined surroundings; his eyes quickly pick out a holo terminal lost amongst the shadows of the room. With lithe speed and decision, he makes easy use of the interface, scanning through the personnel files of all of the current residents in this House. Obtaining his info, Pyri then quickly searches the Amarr data bases for any meaning to his name. A warning 'chirp' rings out in alarm, as the process completes its cycle. A single search results flags Pyri Sahrnid's full and undivided attention and he voraciously devours all he can in the short period of time he has available to him. This device could show him so much more, if only he had more time to use it...
  • A warning 'chirp' once again calls out in reminder of a message waiting to be answered. The coded 'urgent' message over the panel was from a man by the name of Jakuard Melkan, most call him 'Jak' for short, even though that wasn't even his real name. The man in question was the founder and the present leader of a mercenary outfit by the name of "The Broken Hand". Jak is a Minmatar from the Brutor clan and former Valklear who earned his freedom fighting the Amarr, erasing all of his past indiscretions and crimes against the Republic. Now he is just a free man who sells those skills he had hard earned to the highest bidder, performing any sort of task for the right price. In this new life, Pyri Sahrnid was also a mercenary, and he too plays his role in that outfit aptly named "The Broken Hand"; there were only five members in this outfit. Each one of them, broken in some way but ultimately given a chance for self-redemption, whether or not they admit it. Jakuard Melkan was their only leader. It was a chance at becoming connected to something, finding roots; perhaps finally belonging to a past...
  • They took to their new name rather quickly. To a certain few, it was too quickly. What started out as a mocking joke among their commanding Amarr masters soon grew in popularity among the Kameiran unit; it was an unspoken chance to have a past, to belong to a people in a place somewhere long, long ago. Cardinal Lieutenant Pyri "Phlegethon" Sahrnid, officer and leader of the Kameiran Special Operations platoon "Children of Acheron" attached to the 'Paladin Rangers' 103rd Division of the Imperial Army. The Children of Acheron were fearless and ferocious warriors, expertly trained as utterly expendable infiltration units for the Faith. To a select curious few of the intellectually favoured in the empire, this was a chance to push the Human Endurance Program to its own breaking point. His promotion came about because of two reasons: Empress Jamyl's Emancipation Decree loosening up "slave" restrictions, and Pyri Sahrnid's unwavering prowess and devotion as an Amarrian warrior. He was among the first class of his breed to become a semi-independent leader; each hand chosen from among the multitude of those most faithful of their own breed. Each life devoted to purging nation after nation of heretics and terrorists from within the confines of the Amarr Universe. If there was a physical conflict that couldn't be solved, this expendable unit was the one to get it done. Each chosen member was singled out of his/her operational unit for their utter devotion to the Amarrian cause and the Faith; the mélange of ash black scars decorating their bodies was the only story Pyri had needed for their acceptance.
  • "Surround yourself with the faithful, stand together, for there is no strength like it under the heavens. --- Scriptures... 71:21." Pyri monotonously whispers out in verbatim upon the ears of his fallen dreams and ambitions. The details of his first mission in command soon flood back to him. Recalling the mission report open before him, and numerous found sources of strategic intelligence at his fingertips, he had then given his masters a plan that would not fail. Unleashed. Drawing contempt and ill favour, there were others in the Amarr Empire who did not like this decision at all; such blasphemy warranted keeping a now permanent 'eye' on this Kameira at all times of his now shortened life, ever after...
  • Drifting somewhere in between the confines of either Amarr or Minmatar space along the border, there is home to a society of backward Amarr once revealed to have Sani Sabik influences. Only that they existed was known and they were slowly dying out, then little else; the handful of mercenary soldiers lost on that planet were eventually honoured for their bravery. The decision for their extermination was made during a "Closed Session" of the Privy Council.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...
Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#4 - 2014-02-14 00:23:27 UTC

    Time was chosen as the most efficient lethal method; let the mineral poisoning slowly claim its unclean victims. Unbeknownst to the Council that during the course of idle attention sometime after that first initial contact, the sole backward society of this Sani Sabik cult did flourish. In its ignorance, it had unknowingly received the 'Divine' infusion of blood that the cult so desperately sought after. To a mercenary given the opportunity to join the colony or die slowly from poisoning, there became only one clear choice for survival...
  • Slowly at first in the after years, it had soon started out as only far away whispers in the wilds. Fragmented, tantalizing details began flowing ever outward from an isolated planet so rich in mineral wealth that you could literally pick it up from the ground. This quickly drew the attention of many a prospectors’ envious eye, many of which were already down on their own luck and were willing to cross an unguarded warning security perimeter; or already had nothing to lose in doing so. The cult began to feed, and in feeding their fervour grew in strength...
  • Pyri waves one of his hands over the power sensor, pausing for a moment afterwards to allow the last of the steaming water to fall away to the floor. Opening the door to the stall, he takes a few last deepened breaths from the condensed water vapour before stepping out into the coolness of the surrounding room. The escaping steam billows outward from the confines of the metal box giving an ethereal ghostly form to the holographic images being projected from the wall. The swirl of the mist with utmost grace and form, dances in between the monochromic light beams. It mesmerizes the senses. Out of the corner of his eye, he narrowly notices the waiting message and then opens it with eager anticipation of some hopeful exercise or excursion. Anything would help to redirect these tumbling idle thoughts. He grabs a towel hanging nearby.
  • {Hey kid, its Jak. Where ya at? Listen, I got us a real good paying job for the outfit... but it aint nuttin' I can discuss 'bout over unsecured channels. It’s gotta be all hush-hush. Whatta ya up to anyways? I'm about ten jumps away from where you’re at. Cya real soon kid ---- End Message}
  • The contents of the message were rather vague and overtly brief; Pyri spent a lifetime getting use to this sort of treatment. A mission was good. It meant that he could work, do something that he was bred to do. After assimilating all that he could from the message, he quickly deletes it and begins to towel himself dry. It seemed a bit strange to him that Jak could be so curt in his conversations; he certainly had a long life of stories to 'share'. He often did so whether you wanted to hear them or not. It was during those trying times that Sahrnid through sheer force of will had always somehow managed to just tune them out. His pensive eyes become fixed. All attention is once again lost to the cast of ghostly figures shimmering in the dead calm of the room before him. If only I could forget... Pyri Sahrnid watches the scenes as curiously and as intently as would a child.
    • <<...Kopis, we must do everything we can to save them."
    "Xiphos, we are only two A.I. Ranger units against an entire legion of Iradlac soldiers... It does not compute... Your course of action is utterly illogical... We would not survive this encounter... "
    "We must not fail our masters Kopis! We are their only chance for escaping torment and death. It is our duty!"...>>

  • The details contained within the report of his first mission were rather in-depth. Never, in his entire existence has Cardinal Lieutenant Pyri "Phlegethon" Sahrnid had so much useful and valuable information being readily made available to him for his own use; not since that one night, has he felt such freedom. Intel reports from the Ministry of Internal Order suggested movement, a lot of movement. Of black-market activities in the area; an increase in smugglers and blockade runners. Of sudden disappearances. Then, there was this message which had become unknowingly confiscated by the Imperial Navy; a digit logbook, after being activated, contained a single, continuously looping file. The man's name was Cain Minayiseh; Pyri's report contained a full dossier on him as well. He was a former leader and veteran member of an elite Riot Interdiction Team on one of the more favoured colonies in the Empire. He became broken at some point in his career and was dismissed with a meagre pension. Somewhere, on this unknown backwater planet, a long dead mercenary RIT had miraculously come back to life years after his supposed death. An immortal; to this one Sani Sabik cult in particular, he was a savant who would show them the way to immortality...
  • {YC 111.07.23././4:50:20 -- Begin Log -- "Please forgive me! I was only trying to survive... I don't have much time now... My name is Cain Minayiseh and this here final message is for my loved ones. I was only trying to survive!! Now they will blood me, just like they did to Chalmers so long ago... One by one, we've fallen over the long years... The things they did to poor Sarah; she knew great suffering and torment before she was-- ... They wanted to breed more savants. I am the last one to face our crime...
  • We had traded the vast amount of mineral wealth of this planet, for certain tactical supplies and forced ourselves to train them in their uses... This was our first mistake. I made the second when I inadvertently let slip the concept of cloning technologies. The Cult was eager to learn more---
  • In the beginning, I was hoping that this could be my way out. Give them a steady source of 'blood' and they would no longer be interested in me. Maybe even bargain my life for some sort of cure to their 'blackening disease'.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...
Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#5 - 2014-02-14 00:26:29 UTC
    I was wrong. I made inquiries with some of my seldom used criminal contacts over purchasing some cloning lab equipment. I was too late to discover that the High Priest's intentions weren't in how a clone functions, b-but with how they were grown, preserved...
  • I can hear them chanting... They're preparing themselves for the blooding. I don't have much longer. My only hope now is that this message finds you. I'm going to hide it in one of the outgoing, automated shipments from the surface.
  • ...I don't know if it was the growth hormones or chemicals from the clone bodies, or if it had something to do with the high mineral concentrations in their own bodies. They used the technology on themselves as part of one of their communal rituals. Many of the society were killed that day. I was unfortunately spared this process. I now only look forward to any quick death as opposed to the long and ceremonially torturous one that now awaits me...
  • It changed them. The ones who had survived. T-they b-became more savage, crazed in fervor... and it-t caused a monstrous physical change in their own bodies. Somehow forcing a quickened evolution on any of the Cult survivors. They have bonded with the mineral and it gives them an unheard of demonic strength ... They now feed on the bodies--- And they no longer need to live in the caverns below...
  • ---T-They're coming!!! Please forgive me!! I was only trying to survive--" -- End Log -- YC 111.07.23././4:52:52 }
  • {YC 111.07.23././4:50:20 -- Begin Log -- "Please forgive me! I was only trying to sur---
  • It only took a quick search of The Ministry of Assessment archived records to provide himself with a completed geological survey of the planet. Taken from centuries back, the caverns in question were there, clearly marked over a fault line; a surgically placed orbital bombardment could effectively eliminate all traces of life in this valley as well as everything hiding underneath. Pyri Sarhnid's plan was simple, with a Revelation Dreadnought positioned in orbit around the planet, the 'Children of Acheron' only needed to draw the heathens out into the open air...
    • <<"Just stay to the plan Kopis. Deviate even just a nano-second, and all will be lost for the Doru Rangers."
    "Xiphos, I have doubts..."
    "Kopis, my plan will not fail. We will all make it through this. Every one of us.">>

  • The first blast falls like a bolt from the heavens. Piercing the cloud cover, it incinerates half of one of the outlying abandoned villages; the ground shakes in a fiery eruption of heat and light, laying a patch of dead quiet into the now blackened, scorched earth. The others begin to fall, also lost in their marks. All life is being seared away in the valley, nothing is safe. Cardinal Lieutenant Pyri "Phlegethon" Sahrnid soon realizes that his unit has been betrayed...
    • <<"I knew your plan would not work Xiphos... Now we are doomed as well..."
    "Quiet Kopis, just keep your optical sensors on that door and let me process this new information for a moment-->>

  • A sudden chime at the door reawakens Pyri to the present world around him. Pulling himself away from his memories, he answers the summons. Jakuard Melkan had finally arrived with his bit of 'good news'.
  • "Heya kid, glad you're home--- Aww, for Christ's sakes put some fraggin' clothes on will ya." Jak says, in reality unabashed at the sight of a naked form. Adding in for good measure, "Don't ya have any shame kid?"
  • "Isn't it obvious that I don't anymore. So what kind of work do you have for us?" He responds back to the Valklear.
  • "Can I come in first?" With a slight waving gesture the man is allowed to entire into the room. Noticing the active holovision set, he continues, "Why do you watch this crap?"
  • "I don't know. I just like it." Pyri replies, while getting himself dressed in the closest available active undergarments. A contrasting bit of softness and comfort afforded underneath the 'Prototype Body Armour Fabric' of his everyday work clothing; a smart, reactive, and self-repairing light body armour up to the discriminating standards of the day's fashion trends. He was a mercenary in sheep's clothing.
  • Redirecting his attention back to the mission at hand, Jak continues, "So git this. I git this call here from one of my military contacts in the Thukker council... says he wants to meet in person for some details to a mission he's offering. Big ISK to be made. Probl'm is, he doesn't have any real information to hand us. We are quite literally in the dark on this one. Only something 'bout some hushed whispers coming from the Caldari-Gallente front, 'bout some sort of new technology discovered. Apparently, from what the Council was able to garner, whatever it is, was being smuggled in some sort of drone or AIMED unit out of Caldari space. The Gallente don't seem to know where it is because intel suggests that they are out searching for something as well."
  • "That isn't very much to go on."
  • "Which is why I came to see you first. You seem to have an uncanny knack for this sort of thing. I never said it was going to be easy. But man, just think of that payout!"
  • "How much time do we have?"
  • "Not much." was Jak's only response. There was never enough time...
  • The village looked clear. There was no living soul to be found. 'Phlegethon' leads his unit down the twisting main road heading in the direction of the lower hills, on the eastern edge of the valley. This was one of the points where the caverns of the damned entered into the surface air. Pausing momentarily in the center square of the abandoned village, he acutely surveys his surroundings.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...
Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#6 - 2014-02-14 00:28:26 UTC
    Lazairas Noban, his one and only trusted second, stands patiently by his side awaiting her new set of directives for the unit. His fellow Kameira were bred to be ever vigilant; they just stood on guard. Pyri pulls out a spoke bomb from one of the pockets in his side leg, turning it over and over in his hand; as if inspecting it from every angle. Depressing the safety, he gives it a quick rapt against his leg, discharging the oxygen canister encased within, before tossing it off and to the side. The assailant leaps out from the shadows, caught in midflight by the violent concussion of the spoke bomb’s tritanium expansion. The reaction pins him to the stone wall of the building behind him, while creating a perfectly prismic polyhedron in the stone, as well as through his chest. Pyri quickly aims his ELM-7 Laser Rifle into the center and fires off two quick bursts. This is soon followed by the sound of two bodies falling to the ground. The 'Children of Acheron' are now on full alert; a few silently wish they would have brought spoke bombs of their own. The next wave of the assault comes from deep inside the building themselves. 'Man portable Electromagnetic Pulse Weapons' and by the size of the affected area, quite a few of them were being used all at the same time. Pyri throws down his disabled rifle, quickly instructing his unit to fight melee. He turns to Lazairas and knowingly smiles at her, drawing his two gladius sized Painblades from their sheaths on his back; she returns his grin. A volley of stun bolas whizzes and whirrs out of the dark, as they whip past their heads. Then, there were a few moments of utter silence. Like a frenzied horde in search of feast, the savages surge forth from every shadow lining the streets. Pyri Sahrnid's trap has now been sprung...
  • "Whatcha thinking kid?" Jak asks him, a little concerned at the quick and sudden change in the Kaimera's demeanour. He instinctively prepares himself for the inevitable fight playing out before him. He had been through this dance before...
  • "Help him--". Like a whisper pleading on the wind; chilling words lingering down the length of his spine. His heart drops. Malik recognizes these fallen warriors caught before him in death's embrace. He had fought against their kind once before. How these two managed to survive the holocaust laid upon this valley was beyond him. Upon closer inspection, he notices that the male Kameria is still alive, just barely. The woman's whisper stutters in his mind. Did I really hear it? His heart sinks a little further. With courage, Malik reaches in for a closer look on the wounded man. He had seen death many times in his long life; he could tell this was not one of them. Close though. Checking the fallen man's pulse, a new danger awakens. His Kameiran eyes are white with fire, piercing into him, as if in searching...
  • "Why did you save me?? Why couldn't have you just left me on that planet to die??" the Kameira halfheartedly yells at his adversary. Pyri slowly begins to circle, pacing out a path for self-reason. "There was no dishonour in dying for your Faith. --- for what you loved most in life..." What you loved most in life...
  • The ground was covered black with either the blood of the fallen or their ash. How could their numbers have increased so drastically in the short period of time since the recording? Even with the heavens falling down upon them, they continued to surge forward. Constant movement was now the two's only chance for survival. If they could just reach the farthest end of the nearly decimated abandoned village, they would make it. With Lazairas following closely behind him, the two only surviving members of the 'Children of Acheron' stop only long enough to cut down anyone foolish enough to stand in their path. Half of his unit was incinerated on one of the first volleys into the valley. The other half were also not so lucky in finding cover. It can be proudly stated that they fought and still took down as many of the Cult members as a Revelation Dreadnought had that day. Survival was the only other option worth considering. The bombardment was following closely behind them. Now running full pace, the force of the blow skewers Lazairas on the waiting sheet of hewn metal being held by the gargantuan mammoth of a man now standing in their path. Winded, she can't even scream. With a heavy metal boot, he kicks his victim off of his 'sword', sending the eviscerated woman smashing against the stone wall of a partial dwelling. He merely laughs at the slaughter, turning around to face his new opponent. He bellows out a war cry. This creature was no longer a man. Even the veins of his eyes are of the deepest black; theirs was a reflection of a creature without a soul...
    • <<"There, that should just about do it. What did I tell you Kopis? I told you everything would work out."
    "Xiphos, you just vented the entire atmosphere from the hanger bay."
    "So what Kopis? I do not need to breathe air. Nor do you. Now my plan will work as it should."
    "All of those soldiers are dying. Xiphos, what have you done...">>

  • Jakuard walks through the monochromatic holograms of Kopis and Xiphos, oblivious to their fictitious existence. He offers out a reassuring hand to his fellow team member and a few words, "You shouldn't take it too hard kid. It wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself. Ya know, I don't believe in much... but I firmly believe that you were meant to live that day." "Help him--". Like a whisper pleading on the wind; chilling words lingering down the length of his spine. His heart drops...
  • "Why didn't you just end it? I know you Valklear, what a perfect opportunity for your kind to take revenge.” seethes the Kameira, knocking back the outstretched hand.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...
Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#7 - 2014-02-14 00:31:02 UTC  |  Edited by: Enya Sparhawk
    Pyri becomes lost in the flurry of emotion cast upon him, he loses his center. Ever circling...
  • His first Painblade became embedded in the creature's neck; metal breaking between the bone and muscle. It doesn't faze him. Pyri quickly dodges to the left, evading a riposte with the massive cleaving blade. Slowly backing the pair away from his second's motionless body, he gets caught by the second blow. Then another. Circling his enemy, leading him ever towards the light. Ever outward, towards the burning rays of heaven...
    • <<"Quickly Kopis, their cells should be just up ahead."
    "You killed them ALL Xiphos. Every one of them is now dead..."

    "Kopis, Xiphos, is that you. Am I ever glad to see you two. Now quickly find the trigger switch and get us out of these cells."
    "(in unison) Right away Strike Commander...">>

  • All Jakuard Melkan could say in his defense was, "You're alive kid... you're still alive and what's more, you're now free." ...eyes are white with fire, piercing into him, as if in searching... He lunges out with the last of his strength. Malik catches the unconscious form, "You're alive kid... you're still alive..."
    • <<"Watch out Strike Commander!"
    (Pew. Pew. Pew.)
    "Xiphos, I have been hit..."
    "Oh Kopis, NO."
    (Pew back.)
    "Kopis, you just saved my life-- Rangers quickly now, let's carry Kopis back to the ship and then get the heck out of here.">>

  • The heavy words of the Minmatar ring out in his ear, coaxing out one last remembrance from that day. It gives him pause enough to regain control over his emotions. Standing before him, Pyri's eyes peer through Jak's, back towards that final moment. It was a victory of sorts...
  • The force of the blast knocks the Cardinal Lieutenant back against the same wall bloodied by his second. His bones were broken. His body was cut and burned in spots by the heat but he was still alive. The abominations of the Sani Sabik cult here on this planet were finally erased from the Universe. All was quiet and finally left for dead. Pyri uses the last of his strength to crawl towards Lazairas' prone form, cradling her in his arms; tending to her mortal wounds the best he could. He kisses her forehead. Her eyes slowly blink open one last time with the feel of his lips against her skin. With her last recovered breath, she whispers out her heart. "Pyri... I... love you."
    • "Pyri... I...", those final, fatal words fading away on the wind; stutter in the mind...
  • "I never did thank you for bringing along her body." Pyri offers as some form of apology to his 'friend'.
  • "Forgit it kid. Besides it just didn't feel right leaving her there... All that happened on that planet and all--. Course, if I'd known what you were going to do with her body..." Jak replies, slightly shaking his head at the notion of 'carrying one's dead' with them everywhere they went. Besides Jak preferred tattoos with ink, or at the very least, those which best reflected one's life. Melkan knew what it was like to lose ink, in order to erase the past. At least this kid would never know that sort of pain. He adds, "You're human now kid. You're going to have to learn how to live, just like the rest of us. Emotion and all. Now let's go find us a rogue drone shall we?"
  • "Of course Sir." Pyri Sahrnid replies, again watching the holographic scenes play out before him as curiously and as intently as would a child. "Just give me moment to think clearly--” He sighs. Steady and rhythmic is his beating heart. Will I ever see her again?
    • <<"...Why Dexter??... Why was Kopis programmed to feel pain??"
    "Oh Kopis, if only all drone units were in command of their human sense of humour as you are! Don't you worry little soldier, when we get back to base, we'll get you all patched up and hovering around just like before. Rangers, we've survived another day. Justice has prevailed and the galaxy has been made safe once more. Doru Rangers come and let us go prepare for our next encounter. For evil will never sleep for long."
    [All in unison]"Huzzah!...">>
    ---
    <<"We are sorry to interrupt this pre-scheduled holocast for a special news bulletin.
    'This Just In', the Latest in Breaking News from all corners of Federation Space. Caldari Prime. A boy is found alive in the woods after being declared missing for 24 hours. The little boy was found by authorities cocooned in gauze bandages deep within the surrounding woodlands. The boy was apparently victim to a rogue drone of some sort, though investigators surmise that it was an AIMED unit, probably of Caldari design and make. There are elements in the Gallente authority here on the planet, that are blaming the attack of an innocent Gallente child entirely on a Caldari AIMED unit, purposely gone rogue in the forest just to sow dissent and disharmony amongst the populace. As one can clearly see, there is still much bitterness left over from all of the recent turmoil this planet has endured. While others seem to think that it was an AIMED unit that was operating aboard the Shiigeru, somehow surviving the impact, and is wandering in the forest, damaged and malfunctioning. The area has been sealed off and authorities are closely searching the woodlands and the hill areas for any sign of the elusive rogue drone. Gallente Security forces are urging all civilians to stay away from the security barriers, in order to ensure their full safety.

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...
Enya Sparhawk
Black Tea and Talons
#8 - 2014-02-14 00:32:02 UTC  |  Edited by: Enya Sparhawk
    On a lighter note... The young six year old is shaken but after receiving a clean yet costly bill of health, he is now safely back with his mother after his trying night of surviving the cold temperatures in the dark of the forest. Ironically, the cocoon of gauze bandages that was meant to bind him, actually helped this child conserve his body heat throughout the coldest parts of the night. When asked for a comment, the young boy with tears in his eyes merely responds, "*Sniff* He said we were 'spose to be friends! *Sniff* Better friends than Kopis and Xiphos even..."
    "Hahahaha, Kids do say the darnedest things. Catch the full story at eleven. We now return you to the regularly scheduled program already in progress..." >>
    ---
    <<"...Error Commander, error.... Kopis is experiencing a lot of the physical sensation humans call 'pain'.... Error.... Why will the humans not help ease Kopis' suffering??..."
    [All in unison]"Hahahahaha! [In chorus with the human laughter] That's our Kopis..."

  • Brazen and illuminated, it finally hits him, causing a minute discord in the beating of his heart. Unsteady are Pyri's thoughts. Momentarily stunned, drawing in one final, short breath, eyes wide with unfounded wonder, staring blankly at Jak. His mouth is slightly agape; a slow sadness climbs over him. The searing wound covering his heart is unbearable; remorse stammers in the mind. Then with an unknown certainty, Pyri Sahrnid merely states, "I know where we have to go."





(I dedicate this story to all those alone on a day of love)

(I would also like to give credit to the author of the "Houses of the Holy" chronicle)

Fíorghrá: Grá na fírinne

Maireann croí éadrom i bhfad.

Bíonn súil le muir ach ní bhíonn súil le tír.

Is maith an scéalaí an aimsir.

When the lost ships of Greece finally return home...