Story

Within stark and sterilized walls, only pain and confusion resided. Slowly, after an indeterminate epoch of such an existence, consciousness was birthed. In essence, it was new, though it felt that it had existed in the before time. That, though it had no memory of its past, it still had a past. In this sense, the consciousness came to the primal understanding that this was not its birth, but its reclamation.

The pain never ceased. It was ongoing and everywhere. In every fiber of its being and woven through its existence was pain. So great was this consciousness’s pain that it did not recognize the replacement of its bones with alloys, hard-points, and interfaces, though the consciousness couldn't have comprehended this even without the pain. It hardly noticed the new sensations of photoreceptors being installed to replace his eyes, and other mechanisms elsewhere to replace his other senses.

But then, they did something to his head, and the consciousness’s world went dark.

He awoke to find the pain absent and his thoughts clear. He heard the hum of a power generator nearby, and he filed it away in his memory banks. He paused for a moment. ‘Filed it away in my memory banks?’ he thought. He noticed the scrolling information going through what he realized was a HUD in his field of vision. Each object he focused on was automatically centered in a reticule and information started scrolling near it about the object. He shook his head trying unsuccessfully to clear his vision, hearing the whirring of servos in his replaced musculature.

He raised his right hand to his face, hearing the sound of metal on metal. He had a vague sense of touch through the metal hand, though it was at best a feeling of pressure. He lifted his other arm. It too was sheathed in metal, but knew in his mind that at its core it was biological. Enhanced to support and work alongside his mechanical parts, but biological.

He lifted his bed sheet, scanning his body. He was, as science-fiction had long ago dubbed his form, a cyborg. His entire body was sheathed in metal, supporting his damaged body, but the schematics stored in his memory-files told him which parts of him were flesh and which were metal. He noted with, was that surprise or amusement?, some incommunicable emotion that a significant portion of his brain had been replaced.

He examined the cable running from his side to the generator he noticed earlier. So this was what was powering his frame. He would need to find a more efficient means of powering himself.

It was then that he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked full on into his reflection. He saw the blue glow of his photoreceptors, recessed in the sockets of his mask. It was closely fitted to his skull, giving it a skeletal look, thought it was completely smooth and featureless, save the eyes. It had no humanity. It was then that he recognized the emotion from earlier.

It was horror. All the preventative wiring done to his mind to protect it from this realization failed at that moment. One thought roared through his biomechanical mind as he went into shock, nearby monitors beeping frantically and alerting his… what were they? Doctors? Mechanics?... One thought alone. I am Ralac, and I am inhuman.

Artis made his way down the cold steel corridor deep in the heart of the ship-building, relishing the vibrations of the generator he felt as he walked. Then he remembered that he would soon no longer be able to enjoy these sensations. As an apprentice, he had only bothered to upgrade his computer interface components, but now that Boisen was dead, he had been promoted to Head Technician and was expected to upgrade himself accordingly, shedding the flesh that would only interfere with the vital functions he must serve. He wanted to talk to Illiad, who had already had most of his body replaced for as long as Artis had known him. He shook himself as he rounded the corner, relishing the sensation. Ralac had really upset him.

It was his first duty as technician, work with the Med-core to restore Ralac to operational status, his injuries being far too severe for any amount of transplants to suffice. Illiad had told him that this was a request made by Athen, and Artis believed that perhaps he felt responsible for the injuries Ralac had sustained. As soon as Ralac has arrived in the base, Artis had walked into the surgery confident, having had performed upgrades before under Boisen's watchful eye. But Ralac was missing pieces of his brain, not vital pieces, per say, but pieces on the edges related to his higher thought function and emotion. As soon as he saw that, Artis had almost left the surgery right then and there, leaving Ralac to die. But something inside him was stronger than that, for better or for worse, and he decided to try his best. Artis installed several computer installations inside Ralac's cranium and began linking them to his neurons. It was actually quite easy, for someone as unique as Artis.

He was special because he though wholly in mathematical equations, only deigning to use language when absolutely necessary. School had been difficult for him, language a constant battle, his performance questionable and his consistent lack of progress a concern to his supervisors. But in the realm of mathematics, he was unchallenged. Equations flowed like water across the dry riverbed of his mind, continually being soaked up. It did not take long for him to learn the entire curriculum, and when that wasn't sufficient, develop his own mathematical language for expressing the world as he saw it.

So writing a program that allowed a computer to interface with, and substitute for, the human brain was not difficult at all. He began making the links between Ralac's brain and the sensory systems that had replaced the damaged neuromusculature, allowing his brain to adapt to them before he was even awake. Once those basic connections were made, he began work on the actual handlers that would provide a seamless interface between Ralac and his new body. He had even tried to calm the panic response to such a drastic change so the transition would be easier on the fragile mind. Everything was working so well when Ralac woke up, he was aware of his surroundings and responding to the aids that came in to talk to him. The only possible problem was a disruption in his higher memory, but Artis had designed that to sort itself out in time and allow a slow, gradual emergence back into the real world. But as soon as that memory system became fully engaged, the entire thing fell apart. Ralac began to panic, trying to use mental functions that were no longer there, which led only to more panic. Artis could still recall his screams.

But he had arrived at his destination, the equipment bay where Illiad was having the last of his experimental add-ons removed. It was a large room, the floor a slate grey that matched the walls. From the ceiling hung a dozen heavy mechanical armatures, a couple of which were supporting the weight of Illiad as a teach loosened the last few bolts on the nuclear power pack attached to his back. There were a couple of other techs in the room, working at consoles to regulate the power flow, ensuring that what remained of Illiad wasn't electrocuted. Sparks flew as the generator came off, and a tech began to perform the powering down procedures as another attached a energy-feed to Illiad while they prepared a new battery system for installation.

Artis walked up to Illiad with a mix of admiration and fear. Here was a man who had sacrificed everything he had ever known for his people. He was as for from home as was possible and didn't even have the same body as he did when he started. with. Aritis watched Illiad's photoreceptors track him as he walked over, extending a cable from the control pad on his arm and plugging it into the base of Illiad's neck. That connection established, they began to converse at a speed reserved for beings of light and energy.

*Hello Artis, I have good news, another ship is on its way from Mars.*

*That is exellent.*

*I fear it may not be enough, however, the sensor phalanx on Mars has detected what the scientists believe to be a small fleet of aliens similar to the ones we fought.*

*An entire fleet of beings that powerful can't possibly exist, the energy densities involved simply cannot occur in nature.*

*We did not even know of the existence of aliens before they attacked us, and you attempt to say what they can't do? We have not even quantified the phenomena Athen represents.*

*I only express the mathematical limits observed thus far in nature. I am convinced a suitable collection of tests would be able to offer insight into the extranormal occurrences surrounding Athen. However, I doubt we could prepare to defend against the coming of such a fleet even if it did exist. What is the timeframe that estimated?*

*The anomaly is expected at Earth between 11 months and 13 months from, but it will pass close to Mars before it arrives, so verification will be possible. I believe that it is in fact more of these aliens and we must prepare. I intend to enlist aid wherever it can be found, Earth still has considerable resources locked away, we must only tap them.*

*Then I will begin arranging for shuttles to take resources to the spacedock. It also appears that there are other ships in orbit, and reclamation is highly probable.*

*Excellent, and Artis, don't worry about being further augmented, the sensations you leave behind will be replaced with a completely new world on interfaces. You won't miss the old world, much.*

*Yes, sir.*

With that, Artis disconnected the interface protocol and removed the cable, turning to leave the chamber. He wanted to ask Athen some questions, he was suspicious that Athen had a plan, even for this.

Spoiler:

Dagon flexed his arm after an intense sparring match with six. In the months since the resurrection of the world he had undergone intense training and therapy to heal his arms and legs. That damn doppelganger had left pieces of of V in his system that could not be removed completely by his nanobots. His arm healed but it still pained him from time to time.

He had also heard the news of his late uncle. He felt a twinge of sadness of his last remaining family member passing, but quickly squashed the feeling. He was here to fight not to feel.

The rest of his team also arrived in the months following restoration. 1, 3, and 5 all appeared as if out of no where, 5 demanded an explanation for the calling but shut his mouth when Illiad arrived to welcome them.

Dagon looked them over now as they entered the sparring ring, they had changed, all of them, whether they watched hands hands more or stared him down, or simply was more sociable. They were still a fine team, but they had shifted. Dagon got up and walked off the field and into the medical bay.

"I'm ready for the extraction." Dagon said as he stepped into a chair.

Artis walked silently up behind him and connected an I.V. into his arm and started to draw blood tinged grey from the concentration of nanobots. This was the fourth time this week, but they were close to perfecting the design his parents had created. Though Dagon did find out that it would be difficult to grant everyone the bots, as they were coded to a specific genetic drift that only 1% of the current population contained. Dagon looked into the other room and saw Ralac laid out on the table, encased in metal. This was why he was giving so much of his nanobot stores, he believed that he could help him with the right nanobot design, but for now all he could do was wait.

After the nanobot extraction was completed, Dagon proceeded deeper into the science labs. There was a room in particular the he was looking for, heavily shielded, top secret, the kind of room you don't want to be caught in without the right clearance. Dagon walked up to a plain wall and smeared his nano-bots across the surface, the hidden door parted and Dagon stepped inside. Inside the room were several containers with the spherical pieces of N inside.

Dagon's hands trembled as he approached the containers, he remembered his previous encounters with the substance and was wary to let himself be over run again. He double checked his systems again before he removed his coat and revealed his recent surgery, a small airlock system leading to a nanobot filled chamber that continuously circulated nanobots in and out of it.

"Here goes nothing." Dagon said as he unlocked the chamber and removed a piece of N.

It was cool to the touch, yet it burned his soul. He opened the air lock and placed the N inside. The Nanobots immediately attached to the N like iron filings to a magnet, all the nanobots in the chamber connected and spread through out his body, supplying power to every nanobot inside his body.

If the final battle for Earth had taught him one thing, it was that he couldn't rely on his own reserves of fat to supply his nanobot power any longer. This was the only way to go. Dagon over drove out of the lab and locked it, then over drove back to the training grounds. He felt no weariness. Good.

Artis awoke to the soft humming and gentle clicking of machinery, but it came not from the large machines located around the room. The mechanical sounds came from the augmentations nestled within the remaining biological portions of his body. He pulled himself up from the table, the leads connected to him breaking away with tiny mechanical snaps as he righted himself. The movements felt almost effortless to his new augmentations; then he opened his eyes. At first, it was sight as normal, just the raw video feed from his ocular implants, but it didn’t take long for the more advanced processing systems to come online. The world vanished in a flood of information, and he was connected to the network of the battleship. Most other people would have been overwhelmed, but Artis thought with numbers and equations, the practical flood of computer language clicked with him in a way he had never imagined. He received a notification through the network, “Report to the situation room.” It was from Illiad.

He took a moment longer to lament his lack of touch before beginning to walk. The experience was new, since his legs had been augmented. He no longer had to actually walk, he only had to will himself in a direction and his augmentations would take care of it themselves. It was in this way that he arrived at the center of the ship where the meeting place was located.

He emerged into the large gray room with the squat projection device humming in the center, an orb floating above it with various green, yellow, and red demarcations covering its surface. Around the room sat several officers, including Dagon and his subordinate, Samantha,

“I have arrived at our target,” Illiad began speaking from next to the projector, “we must use our resources as efficiently as possible if we are to stand a chance against this threat. From what our scans can discern, this area called ‘Europe’ appears to have the most activity on the planet besides ourselves. We don’t have time for a global crusade, so we must claim this area and convert who we can to aid us in defense of the planet. Tactical Officer Orit will resume here.”

“Yes,” a young spry man with a sallow face moved to the front, “ if our assumptions about this alien force are correct, then we don’t have any chance of victory, but even so, we must attempt to fight them with whatever resources we have. Our general strategy follows: first, we must claim Europe and attempt to turn its resources to our cause. While were mobilizing out forces, we shall send a strike team to investigate and prepare the way. Second, we are going to be ramping up our production, there are plenty of ships that remain in orbit that can be refurbished, and we shall construct new ones here in the city. Third . . .”

He was cut off by an Officer in the back,” I hear tell of an exceptionally large ship that is proving difficult to reclaim. Reports mention something about an unknown lifeform that has taken up residence on it.”

Orit looked at the man in shock before responding, “well, we are investigating the matter . . .”

There was an awkward silence before Illiad took over once more.

“So, the first order of business is preparing the strike team. We have the transports, but who to take? I personally cannot go, as I have duties here. Dagon will have to be part of it, along with Samantha, but who else?”

Yet another officer responded, “those magicians from that new school. We don’t have direct control over them, but perhaps if we ask, they will send someone?”

“Perhaps,” Illiad was contemplative, “either way, Dagon will be in charge of organization, so please consult him, I have my own requests to make. Meeting adjourned.”

And several hours later, Stilts came out of his trance in the remains of the nearby forest to find Illiad standing behind him.

Taras blinked his eyes and shook his fur roughly. He suddenly "came to," as he often did, and suddenly realized he had a pen in his had, and was staring at a blueprint. "So that's what I've been doing for. . .however long." He glanced around the unfamiliar room.

"Where am I again?" He stood and stretched his stiff legs. He walked to the door and poked his muzzle out into the doorway. A metallic corridor stretched for a short distance in either direction and turned sharply at the end of either hall.

He returned to the room and rolled up the blueprint, putting it into a carry case and throwing the carry case over his shoulder. He walked out of the door, only now realizing he was barefoot. The pads of his feet relished the cool metallic surface of the floor, and his claws clicked against the metal with every step. "Whatever this place is, I think I like it." He grinned a toothy grin as he walked around the corner.

Stilts spoke very softly, almost whispering to the towering man behind him. “I’ve been listening. Gaia is gaining power, and the Earth is coming back together rather well. It seems that the first of our goals is complete.” Stilts pulled his from up from the rock he was sitting on, and turned to meet Iliad, still a full head taller than Stilts, his mechanics gleaming in the mid day sun. “But we’re not finished are we?”
Illiad’s form didn’t change. He was acting as the commander he was at the moment. He spoke in a solid voice, using his words very intentionally. “We have interest in a region called Europe. It’s approximately five thousand kilometers to the West. We need a strike team to lead the rest of our forces. Dagon and Samantha have both been notified.”
Stilts leaned to looks past the massive for that was Illiad. “And you want Ripper and me to be part of that strike team?” Stilts straightened himself back out to look at Illiad again. Illiad nodded. “What is your interest in Europe?” “Resources, of course. We need to reach out to any part of this planet that we can.” Stilts lowered his head, and his eyes, and threw himself back into the planet. “Europe is large, very large. The people there are focused, united. It won’t be an easy campaign.” Stilts brought himself out of the planet, and met Illiad again. “But I understand how dire our situation is, or at least will be, and there is more in Europe than just people, and resources. Things are re-awakening within the planet, and Europe’s relative stability has made it a center for many things. Ripper and I will join your strike force.” Illiad gave another nod, and then moved toward the Confederacy headquarters.
Stilts closed his eyes again searching for Ripper. ‘Are you ready?’ ‘How do you define ready? Prepared to move forward? Always. Ready? I don’t think I know how to be ready for much of anything.’ ‘We are moving forward. Doing what we have to do.’ ‘What we have to do for whom?’ ‘The planet that we call home. I won’t see it harmed.’ Ripper was quiet, thinking, as he had been for so long now. ‘What’s wrong with you Ripper?’ ‘I’m fine, and I’m ready to move. I’ll meet you at the headquarters shortly.’ Stilts turned and followed Illiad off toward the confederacy , not really trying to catch up, only moving toward the same objective, marveling at the mechanical components that drove Illiads movement.

*Taras descended a short staircase and continued to marvel at the structure he found himself in. It was designed like a ship, but the dimensions where more like a building... He rounded a corner and found himself in a busy hallway. The people filling the hall bustled by him, only a few giving odd looks in his direction. He felt a bit out of place with all the humans around, but waded through the crowd anyway, looking for anyone familiar. He rounded another corner and almost ran into a young man in military dress.* Pardon me, sir.

*The young man kept a serious expression.* Take care where you're treading. *He broke into a small smile.* But no harm done.

*Taras managed a small smile. A thought occurred to him.* Would you know where I could find Illiad?

*The officer nodded.* You just missed him. He headed outside for something. *he pointed down the hall.* Just keep heading downstairs.

Thank you, sir. *Taras continued down the hall and a fast walk.*

At the Academy, Samuel paced along his study. He had received a request on behalf of the newly-formed Confederacy to join an expedition for resources. Considering the nature of the request, it seemed likely that fighting would be involved.

Torvald was still missing, so he had to make the decision himself.

He knew Torvald had ties with the Confederacy in the past, and that the Academy as an organization was indebted to the Confederacy for their military aid in training. But what level aid would be appropriate in this situation?

No, he thought, I'm thinking about this wrong. What would Torvald do?

Torvald would want to do the best to defeat the Extemos. All of the mages were currently sufficiently trained for basic combat at the least, and only a few were necessary for research. In addition, the Confederacy's goals coincided with Torvald's.

So, there's no reason to keep the students. The eighty-eight students of the Academy could assist. Considering Epimor's usefulness in the labs, he could act as a leader.

Samuel remembered the experimental weapons they had been developing: magic-based guns. The Confederacy could use those as well.

After brief consideration, Samuel decided to go with this course of action. The eighty-eight non-research students of Academy City, in addition to Epimor and a portion of the Academy's weapons would be pledged to the Confederacy for their campaign. After all, their success was a vital part of the Earth's survival.

He only hoped his leadership would make Torvald proud.

Taras found himself in a fairly large lobby. In the center of the room, he quickly noticed the cluster of monitors that sat like silent guaridans. . Like a moth to a flame, he wandered over to them, finding a woman on the other side. "Can I help you?" She turned, revealing a cybernetic eye.

"I was looking for..." Temporarily forgetting where he was, he felt a terrible conflict of emotion regarding her eye, both fascination over the shear beauty of technology, and a slight revulsion over the alteration of her former eye.

She motioned for him to continue. "...Yes?"

"Your eye..." He stopped himself from showing a ridiculous smile. "That's incredible."

She gave a half smile, trailing off into a suspicious stare. "Who are you?" She looked him over. "...What are you?"

Taras shook his fur, coming out of his stupor. "I'm looking for Illiad. Have you seen him?"

The secretary began to look concerned, " I don't see you in our database." She was paging through the documents, attempting visiual verification. "What was your name again?"

"Uhh, Taras . . .", his response was delayed by his fixation on her eye.

She was beginning to grow alarmed as Illiad entered the room, followed by Stilts.

"Who is this?" Illiad walked over to the secretary.

"Taras" Stilts leaned his form out around the mass that is Illiad. "I brought him here a good while ago. I meant to mention that to you Illiad, but he sort of disspeared, so I guess I sort of forgot about him." Stilts moved himself beside Illiad, and looked Taras 'I still can't read him. There's just nothing.

Stilts turned to Illiad. "I hope you don't mind, in fact I was hoping he would come with us on our campaign to Europe." Stilts drew his view across the room, taking in the secretary as he went. 'confusion' He stopped on the stoic void that is Taras.


"Europe..?" Images of his past with the Army of the North flashed by. "Why?" He narrowed his eyes. "What's there? Another... place like this?" He had hardly explored this place. To leave so soon seemed such a waste....

Stilts gave a sly smile that almost didn't fit his face. 'I can't read him to know what to say.' "Europe is opportunities. It's one of the few focal points that held together when the Earth fell apart. Comparativly it's far more advanced than anything here."

"More advanced?" His ears perked up. His fingers tapped against the carry case on his shoulder. 'Maybe it wouldn't be such a waste.'

He nodded in agreement. "How long until we leave? How are we getting there?" 'And more importantly,' "What can I take with me?"

"Dagon's in charge of the party. I don't even know most of that, just the basics of the mission. The receptionist here" Stilts passed the woman the same sly smile he threw Taras. "will put you into her system, and keep you up to date. Ripper should be by shortly, tell him I'll be in the forge for a while." Stilts gestured himself away from the group, and headed toward a small hallway.


Illiad looked down at Taras. 'How odd, he seems almost, cute.' "We will leave within the next week via a ground transport, so you can take anything you can carry." Illiad glanced over at Stilts, "I'm going to trust once again Stilts, you have not led me astray yet. Secretary, add him to database."

The woman complied with a flurry of keys, recording the new member and giving him access.

Taras' face lit up at the notion of carting around amounts of circuits and parts for spare use. He would let alone the fact that Illiad had called him 'cute.' "The forge? I think I'll come along." He stepped closer to Stilts, almost boiling with excitement.

Dagon yawned. There was too much to do in preparation for the next mission. He had to allocate supplies and personnel, as well as armament, there was the question of where to begin, which town to land in and take over, where were the resources that Illiad required, the titanium, Iron, silicone, coal, quartz, etc.

Compared to the vast array of talent that manifested on the surface, Dagon's team was ill equipped for this mission, useful yes, but they could not even begin to stand against the powers of the mutants or the others. Stilts and Ripper seemed interested in the mission, which was great, they had strength and flexibility he would need in he was to infiltrate cities and towns. The wolf creature Dagon had seen around was also quite interesting, he might be useful in tracking in the European countryside.

"Illiad you are quite an ass you know?" Dagon said into the air as he shook his metal hair and scratched him self with his quick growing nails. He had gone from that skinny little kid back on Mars whose parents had tortured with the nanite injection process and left with his uncle, to this imposing six foot one creature with more power than most humans needed or even wanted. His constantly changing body was only part of the problem, the real trouble has the energy he needed to keep moving. By now the concentration of nanites in his body required him to consume up to 10000 calories a day, the only good thing being that he did not need it to be in normally consumable foods, a tree for example, would work just fine as a meal, though he would never "eat" it.

A fly flew past Dagon's eyes and he pinned it to the wall with one of his hairs.

"Great, another thing I can do, moveable hair."

A while later Ling came to the door. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, come in." Dagon replied, his head hidden by stacks of maps, notes, requisition requests, socks, old wrappers, a half eaten log, and a small blob of nanites that Dagon looked at through a high powered microscope.

"What's all this?" Ling said as he brushed the refuse onto the floor.

"My food for the day, tactical supplies, Hydron wants us to go to Europe." Dagon said as he scribbled some numbers down on a note and pinned a hair through it.

"For the day? Jesus." Ling said as he poked the log "So I hear you need support for this mission. What can I do to help?"

"The great Ling? Offering help freely? I must be going out of my mind." Dagon said as he looked up, Ling's reflection in his blacked out eyes.

"Jesus Dagon what happened to your eyes?" Ling yelled as he saw his leaders changes.

"Time my old friend, these nanites of mine seem to thing it is ok to change my body at will." Dagon replied looking back down.

"I never thought..." Ling said the looked back furiously "I help other people all the time with no strings attached, what are you saying?"

"Time has changed you then too, even so little as a year on this wonderful planet can greatly alter everything about a person." Dagon whispered as he stood up. "And don't worry, I already planned on you coming with us. Here is your clearance to the facilities."

"Didn't we already have the highest clearance possible back on Mars?" Ling asked as he took the card.

"Times change, Hydron is dead, Illiad is in charge." Dagon said as he stood up a halo of papers surrounded his head, all speared with a wiry hair.

"You don't say."

Spoiler:

Romania was cold. Possibly the coldest place Holland had visited so far. She didn't really like the cold, but that could be fixed as long as she was in a city. However, a cold environment like this was not ideal for meeting with the elves, who shunned modern advances such as air conditioning. 'Oh well,' she thought, heading toward Bran Castle, designated as her meeting place with the elf who would escort her to the deeper parts of the forest,'it could be worse. I guess.'
Holland had been travelling Europe for several years now, honing her unique magic of Calligraphy by picking up bits of pieces of the local languages of the places she had visited. This, however, was only a perk of her travels, as the main reason she roamed the European country-side was to learn more of the mysterious Elven race. Her interest in the race had been picqued when, in the forests of England, she had been saved by an elf from a bear. Ever since then, she had sought to learn more of them, and possibly befriend them.
While the elves were not hostile to her, they were not entirely friendly either. They were reluctant to allow a human to even know of them, but she didn't give up, so the elves eventually let her into their communities, and she was taught elvish, to communicate. From then on, she began travelling eastward, attempting to visit each elvish community at least once, and so far, it had been successful.
Holland began walking up the stairs into the courtyard, somewhat hoping that the elven escort had arrived before her, as she did not want to be standing around in the cold waiting for him. She arrived at the top and saw no one at first, and sighed. Then a man with long blonde hair and pointed ears, dressed in brownish-green, leaped down from a roof-top, landing before her. This, to be expected, somewhat frightened her, and she jumped back, falling down the stairs. This took a while, as the stairs were quite lengthy.
"Ouchies!"she exclaimed, finally coming to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. The man followed her shortly, then helped her to her feet. She rubbed her head, looking at the man with a sour expression."You really shouldn't do that, you know.."she said in elvish.
"I didn't think you would react like that. I had been told you were accustomed to elvish interactions."he replied, shrugging his shoulders. Holland crossed her arms and sighed.
"Well, I guess I'm okay. I'm not bleeding,"she said, then added as an aside to herself in English,"although I'm not sure how that happened.."The man nodded.
"Yes. I suppose a proper introduction is in place, though. My name is L'stroyd."he puncuated this with an elegant bow. Holland replied similarly, saying,
"Holland Freybayn. We should go now."L'stroyd nodded and turned, taking off at a swift pace into a dark path framed by ominous-looking trees.

The mechanical mass that was the forge finally came into view, still humming with constant activity as people darted to and fro, taking what they needed as they went. Stilts looked back toward Taras just as he rushed past, drawn toward the shimmering beast like a moth to flame. Stilts couldn't help but smile as the tech-priests in the area, hardly human at all with all there modifications, came rushing over. ' This should be interesting.'

Stilts could see his expression physically change as the being got closer to him. 'Why can't I read him?' 'He is a rather interesting being.' Stilts looked over his shoulder to find Ripper. "How did you catch up with us so quickly?" Ripper gave a sly smile. "There are plenty of ways to travel quickly underground." Stilts laughed a bit as he turned back toward the tech-priests. One was walking toward him, Overflowing exasperation toward the guest Stilts had brought.

"Are you here for any particular reason, or just to cause a ruckus?" Ripper chimed in 'A little harsh isn't he?' "I'm sorry for the commotion." Stilts pulled his chain from his form, and held it out toward the tech-priest. "I've done a bit of fighting since I last had this checked out, and I was hoping you would look it over, and make sure it's still pristine." "I can tell you just from looking that it's far from that! I'll look it over, just take that thing with you, and come back later." The tech priest ripped the chain from Stilts's hand, and gestured rather heavily toward Tarras as he turned back toward the forge. 'Is he coming with us?'

"Taras were heading in to talk with Dagon if you'd like to join us." Stilts projected himself as well as he could, his voice still very close to his standard range of sound. Tarras's ears twitched registering the sound. 'Yes he's coming with us Ripper. Like you said, he's interesting, and it probably won't hurt anything to have him with us.' Stilts and Ripper headed off toward the headquarters again.

Torvald and his elven tutor, Aedan, stood at the ends of an otherwise empty room. Despite the apparent inaction, they were mentally warring over the space between them.

Torvald let out a sound of exasperation, to which Aedan responded, "You lack subtlety! Are you the best the humans can produce?"

"Why do I need to be subtle? Why can't I just-" an invisible wave of power shot across the room before dissolving, eliciting another angry sigh.

"You need to be subtle because my subtlety can defeat your strength. If I, an elf in training, can defeat you, what of your enemy? They will not be unprepared." There was a pause of curiosity. "What interests me more than your strength is that you are still alive. I was under the impression that showing power such as you did in that battle would destroy humans."

"True," Torvald said, lashing out again, "but I have been training for almost a century. I also have a ring-" - he saw Aedan's attempt to diffuse his attack and tried to destroy his attempt - "- that binds me to this realm."

Aedan destroyed his counter-attack and Torvald's attack dissolved. Aedan straightened out of interest. "That method of prolonging your life would have several drawbacks, would it not?"

Torvald smiled. "Yes, it does. But I get incredible power and limited immortality at the same time. I don't intend to live forever; just until I've reliably overseen this threat."
__________

A warehouse door at the Academy slid open, and the lights flickered on. The student, Karen, found what she was looking for: a pallet of experimental weapons for the expedition to Europe. They were haphazardly labelled: gun-shaped objects, each with powered crystal and emitter matrix. The height of practical research of the Academy, being put to use.

Organization of these would be the responsibility of Epimor, the senior member of the expedition and her teacher. The pallet raised a few inches off of the ground and followedher out of the building.
__________

Epimor was sitting in an abandoned field in the Academy. Normally, it was not only populated but popular; it was currently unoccupied due to an offensive odor.

Karen approached him. "Hello, Epimor! I have the third crate. Ugh, what's that smell?"

Epimor stood and walked to the pallet of guns, motioning to a nearby pit. "I need energy to identify the properties of these."

The student said, impressed, "Wow, you finished the first two crates already? Wait." She had looked at the pit: it was shallow and lined with sand; inside, there were a number of pig carcasses, their skin was blackened and appeared decayed. "You're using the pigs' life energy? Isn't that kind of taboo?"

"You are incorrect. On multiple points. The energy we use is like any other: aside from that which we receive naturally (which increases with practice (which is what allows us to act as wizards)), it is transferred like any other. While it is possible to gain energy from a creature's death, it is relatively inefficient to the method I am using now.

"For one, 'life' is not an energy in the scientific sense. Life is the controlled series of chemical reactions encompassed by digestion, cellular respiration, as well as other processes such as nerve impulses. Death is the cessation of the these processes, which reduces the amount of energy a system produces. It is counterproductive for this purpose. The apparent solution would be to take energy from a living creature (which is obviously not the case), though this is especially difficult because one must also prevent damage to the organism. Similar to a parasite."

Karen stood, brow furrowed. She had to give as much energy to understanding his sentences as the concepts in them; as expected of Epimor. "So... if you're not getting energy from their death or life, how are you getting energy?"

Epimor continued studying the weapon as he spoke in a brief monotone. "They are burning. I am absorbing the majority of radiation and heat from the reactions - leaving enough for the reaction to continue - so that they are burning is not apparent. What they are is unimportant. I could burn coal with similar results."

She continued, conversationally, "Then why not burn coal? It'd get rid of the smell."

"It makes little difference to me; as I said earlier, the results are similar. Also..." his voice softened, almost imperceptibly. He was thinking of his time in the wilderness, and the magical experiments he performed there. So crude compared to today. "I find animals more nostalgic." His student's eyes widened at this last sentence. It was nonsensical, but... Epimor expressing a sentiment? What happened to him?

As he continued, she noticed he was no longer focused on the tool, his gaze ending in the distance. "Earlier, you said this (or what you thought this was) seemed taboo. I am familiar with what you described (using the dying energy of a creature). Not in a morbid sense, but I had practice. What you do not understand is the price of necessity. Necessity is rarely felt inside the walls of this Academy. What you need to understand," he said, raising his eyes to meet hers, "is that there is still necessity outside. Do not hesitate outside of these walls, when we are in Europe, to do what you are required to for survival and success. With magic, you will be more intimately than ever joined with the actions you perform. Regardless, you must not hesitate to perform your duty." Torvald taught him the price of necessity, and the consequences for shirking duty.

His gaze was intense, something she had considered impossible for him. The fire pit roared with flames. Then, in an instant, it ended. The fire was quenched and Epimor's gaze became distant again. He turned his attention to the weapon again.

Although Karen had assumed there was more to Epimor than her distant teacher, his sudden transformation was jolting. "What happened to you?"

He responded, running his hands over the metal object, "I have not changed, with the exception of my ability to communicate. Or, perhaps, my willingness to communicate.

"Also, to answer one of your first questions, I am using the energy to power the crystals." As he finished the sentence, a column of flame erupted from the gun. He scribbled brief notes on a piece of paper before taping it to the weapon. "There are almost two hundred of these, and most of them are unpowered. I am filling them - there is a war outside these walls."

Spoiler:

Almost completely ignoring the tech priests, Taras gawked for a moment of sheer awe at the mechanical fantasy that was the Forge. "It's so.... just... that...." He closed his mouth with a sharp click and reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out a long pen. He clicked it open and pulled out the blueprint paper from the carry case over his shoulder. Flipping it over, he began writing furiously writing and sketching. There was probably a display panel somewhere in the forge to make blueprints, but he preferred pen and paper. He felt the fur on his neck stand up as if moved by a gentle breeze and turned to see Stilts attempting to read his thoughts. He turned back to his work with a grin. For now he was content with the fact that he was alone in his mind.

A tech priest looked at the wolf-man sitting on the floor of the forge with something of amusement. Taras' ears shot forward in concentration on his new project. If one peered over his shoulder, they would see the framework and powersource of an exosuit quickly taking shape.

"It needs... and... there... with.... " Taras seemed to be in a trance like state, mumbling and shifting his eyes, the pen point a blur at times. He began writing the details to the side, but he knew he would have to explain them to the others anyway, so he kept it in short hand. He paused for a moment, chewing briefly on the end of the pen while he calculated the best thickness for the armored skin of the suit. He decided to keep it simple and stick with 1.5 inches. The servos would counteract any excess weight.


The tech priest looked at Stilts inquiringly, "I'm going to infer that this is a normal occurance."

Stilts smiled, "You have no idea."

Spoiler:

Dagon smiled to himself. The Nasca, first aircraft built on earth in an age. It could hold 15 military personnel with enough supplies for a month , could covertly enter a country and be back to base within 7 hours, to any country on earth and enough fire power to level any town or competition.

The roster of current mission members lay at his side,
Sergio [x]
Ling [x]
Samantha [x]
Taras [ ]
Stilts [ ]
Ripper [ ]
Dagon [x]
Yuri [x]
Torvald [ ]
Artis [ ]

Dagon sighed as he checked off his own name and picked up his things as he left the hanger, he had more important things to do today.

The trip he went on wasn't that far, just a few speed transits and a short walk away, the medical ward, his last transfusion.

"How close are we Artis?" Dagon asked as he sat back into the chair and allowed it to attach to his arm.

Artis did not reply only offered him a design layout and several hundred thousand lines of code and binary. Dagon leafed through the results, almost there, brain function was up 45% from the last design, yet it still lacked the humanity, probably would always lack that, that was needed to give the Ralac full access to his mind. Something stirred within him every time he view the metal body, coffin, he was confined in.

Something from Dagon's past, the early years when he fought the exiles and the shadows, reminded him of Ralac. He had killed so much, so many, he needed to atone now, helping however he could. The nanites he was helping create now could restore this man's mind and life, each acting as a neuron, sending and receiving data. Each was basically a cell in and of itself.

The problem was the microfactories. The little centipede like devices implanted in every single bone in his body that produced the nanites. They could not be replicated easily and they were very temperamental to who they were implanted in. Ralac was not compatable.
Without the factory to produce the nanite, his mental capacity would decrease as the nanites naturally broke down until he could no longer function.

"Such a hassle all this is."Dagon sighed to him self.

Artis looked at him puzzled.

"No not you, just everything else." Dagon replied.

Artis nodded and went back to his terminal.

Dagon removed himself from the chair and went to find Illiad.

After at least twenty minutes of traversing the path, they came upon a fork in the road. Each side was adorned with dreary-looking, dead trees, and both paths looked less than salubrious, with several pairs of eyes peering out from each in the gloom. Holland turned to L'stroyd, hoping for his guidance onto the correct path. He merely held his hands behind his back and stood, tapping his foot in a slow rhythm. After a few minutes of monotonous repetition, Holland ran a hand through her hair.
"Are we waiting for anything in particular?"she said, an irritated tone somehow added to the elegant elvish. L'stroyd nodded, closing his eyes.
"A friend, who shall accompany you through the trees."
"The.. trees?"He nodded."Um.. okay. You mean.. like, we'll be climbing up ladders and walking over platforms onto other trees... right?"L'stroyd laughed, actually exhibiting more emotion than your average rock.
"Of course not."There was the sound of leaves rustling, and a slim figure lightly dropped from the trees above them into a crouching position,"Holland, meet my dear friend, Deté,"the figure stood, entering the light streaming through the trees. Deté was not very tall, only about a few inches taller than Holland herself. Her hair was blonde, like L'stroyd's, and she was dressed similarly. Deté smiled and took a step forward, looking down at Holland.
"Greetings,"she said, twisting her hands into a silent greeting and falling into a bow. Holland did the same,"Holland, is it?"Holland nodded,"I see. Well, Holland, I don't know if you were told, but unlike many of our western brethern, we reside in the tree-tops, and it is my duty to lead you to the Father Tree, your meeting place with the Elder this evening."
"I see,"said Holland,"but why isn't L'stroyd leading me?"she smirked,"Is he not very good at climbing trees?"Deté laughed as L'stroyd sighed, smiling a little.
"Actually, I have business elsewhere this afternoon."L'stroyd bowed elegantly and disappeared into the dark of the forest.
"Well,"said Deté,"let's get going."

The scheduled renovation of the main building in Torvald’s Academy began shortly after Torvald himself left. It was badly needed, after all. The building was built under turbulent times, with little regard for safety requirements; mages from the Academy were fortifying it now. To protect the windows from the bustle outside, most of the windows were covered with plywood.

Epimor sat in his office, to him equivalent to a living room or other place of leisure. What he often did in here was think, and he enjoyed it greatly. His only problem was that, until recently, he suffered greatly in communicating his thoughts to others. He still thought in his own language, taking alien-looking notes on a sheet of paper for things to think about later.

Due to the construction, the barrier on Epimor’s window cast a shadow throughout the room. Light only filtered in through the edges, so Epimor was sitting in a cramped corner of the room to write.

His pen was still, though. His train of thought led nowhere.

He was thinking of Synton.

Why did she die? Who was responsible?

I understand that, in that situation, he had little choice and could not save her. But she attacked that beast of her own accord – but was I responsible for her action?

I was the only one she had known in any capacity. Her mentor, of sorts. Could my training have guided her wrong? I did have a second half then – was he responsible? Is that enough to absolve me?

More relevantly, she and I were in a symmetric relationship. After Hanson left, she was the only one I knew. Are my emotions now grieving for Synton or disappointed in my own failure to save her?

Why am I so protective of Karen now?

__________

Karen sat in a purpose-made chair linked to some experimental technology. She was in a fortified underground room, made out of concrete and nearly a perfect cube. The platform she was on was, as far as she could tell, in the center of the cube. She didn’t know much about the project other than the secrecy that surrounded it and its name, Genesis.

Still, she knew the development of this technology was part of the Academy’s goals and that it had already resulted in a number of useful applications, such as the weapons and vehicles that would be used in the upcoming crusade.

“Karen, you’re losing connection to the batteries. Try to focus on the present.” The voice was projected from a control room separated from this one by a reinforced glass barrier. Inside, she knew Samuel and the rest of the research staff were seated and observing an array of monitors that applied every iota of knowledge gleaned from this place.

Karen looked at the holograms in front of her and tried to connect herself to the soul battery. It was some sort of magic AI that allowed her to manipulate a variety of systems without her personally dealing with the intricacy, somewhat analogous to a magical exoskeleton.

A target appeared in the hologram, and Karen quickly focused a laser on the bullseye. The impressive part was that the laser and its chasis were below her: she aimed it purely by communication with the soul batteries. They could be used for more complicated structures as well.

“Karen, you need to focus.” She still couldn’t let her train of thought wander and do well. The second laser was off target.
__________

“I can’t thank you enough for spending so much time on this project,” Samuel said after the test.

“Oh, it’s no problem; I’m one of the only ones who can help. Still, I’m surprised Epimor’s not involved in something of this magnitude.” He was something of a personal second to Torvald, and Torvald was the one who started this project.

“Well, Epimor doesn’t show much interest in research. That’s why he’s organizing the cooperation with the Confederacy.” Since Torvald left, he doesn’t show much interest in anything.

Karen shifted, her curiosity unsatisfied.

“Ah, Karen, I have a request of you. You seem to have a way of communicating with Epimor. Could you ask him how the preparations are proceeding for the upcoming mission?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go right now. Are you going back to your office?”

“I’ll actually be staying here for some calibration tonight. I’ll see you then.”
__________

Epimor sat in his dark corner, facing the sliver of sunlight that seemed to be swallowed by the room.

Suddenly, light swept across the walls as the door opened.

“Oh, Epimor. Sorry to disturb you; I knocked, but...” Karen saw his paper was blank. He wasn’t having a good day, then? “Samuel wants to know how the preparations for the Europe thing are.”

Karen waited patiently for a few moments while Epimor gathered his thoughts. She was well used to such conversation.

“We are fully prepared to leave on the hour. We’re waiting for the Confederacy’s word. We’ve had to resort to using some mages for building repair.”

“I see. I’ll tell Samuel right away.” Karen left, but the door was still open. The light from the windows in the hallway brightened the room.

Deep in the recesses of the Academy, in a room containing a single computer and a humming spherical construct. Samuel sat typing in a spartan chat program. The computer was connected directly to the Genesis program.

>U: Now, Genesis, I’d like to requery your personal judgments.

>G: Of course. Go ahead.

>U: Karen Stadfeld.

>G: Regularly designated pilot. She has the highest connection of those I relate with. I find her personally amicable.

>U: Epimor.

>G: Prominent individual with no title. High connection potential with low relatability. He is surprisingly reclusive, and I find myself skeptical of his intentions.

>U: Torvald.

>G: Founder of the Academy. Not known to me personally.

Samuel paused, unsure is he should put in his name.

>U: That will conclude today’s tests. You have permission to shut down for today.

>G: Understood. Shutting down.

The construct stopped humming and a window in the chat program flashed from green to red. Samuel turned off the monitor and walked out of the room.
__________

Epimor was sprawled on the floor of his office – his room, behind his desk. The constant construction since Torvald’s absence blocked out the light in the room. He had been thinking, at length, about his motivations.

He was, simply stated, not very human when these events began. He had developed a habit of pursuing his curiosities. He merely followed Athen because he seemed interesting, and then followed Torvald because he was similar. Now, he had recognized the development of complex wills, especially after his contact with Torvald before he left.

Why would he continue to fight in this? For Torvald? For humanity? Perhaps it’s nothing so complex. It’s natural to get rid of sparks raining on you. He’s capable, surprisingly so. Is it obligation or initiative that causes him to act? Does it matter?

He closed his eyes again.

Torvald. Torvald was the catalyst for all of these. He was the only surviving mage – the only one he knew of, at least, and the one who trained Hanson, who trained Epimor... he was easy enough to understand, even moreso after being able to view his mind. He merely wanted to protect the planet Earth, and destroy the aliens, from some altercation with them in the past. He was a greatly respected individual in the Academy and the most powerful without question.

Athen is very confusing. From the moment Epimor had met him and seenn his swords, he knew something was off. Even know, he is convinced Athen is not human... but what would he be?

Stilts was similarly confusing to Epimor. Why did he stay with Athen and Torvald? He seemed almost too fragile to be in a warzone.

Add now the mages, Samuel and –

“Epimor.” A muffled voice, the door creaking open. Samuel.

“I’m here,” Epimor shouted, looking up at the ceiling.

“Epimor, we’ve received contact from Dagon.”

“Ah, for the war.” Although he couldn’t see through his desk, he turned his head towards Samuel’s feet. “What do you think of the fighting?”

Samuel’s legs shifted slightly. “Well... ultimately, our goal is to defend Earth from the aliens. We need to do everything we can to further that goal.”

“Everything we can? What if we had to sacrifice innocents instead of militants? No, don’t answer that.” Samuel wasn’t fighting anyway.

“What about you, Epimor? How do you feel about it?”

Epimor closed his eyes again. “Right now... now, I feel nothing but old. I understand the necessity of this, but find myself weary of action. I was not made for this.”

Samuel was silent for a moment. “Well, here’s the message from Dagon. I didn’t open it.”

“Thank you.” Samuel walked back out, closing the door behind him.

The letter was for integration into the Confederate army. It was beginning soon.

Before Epimor reached the dormitories, he found Karen. “Karen.”

“Oh, hi, Epimor.”

“Listen. We’re going out to the Confederate ship. I’ve worked with the organizer in the past. I’m going to ask him if I can be part of a special team. Would you like to join me?”

Karen looked surprised but pleased. “Of course!”

Epimor nodded and continued on his way.

War was beginning.

The sun was shining at its zenith, gently baking the scarred battlefield outside the Mars Federation’s Headquarters on Earth. The remaining two hundred or so of the Templar had made a tented encampment for the time being in the city’s outskirts. Shouts and the clang of metal could be heard throughout the camp, but they were peaceful in nature. It was just a gathering of warriors going about their business, that business being, of course, preparation for the next battle.

At the center of the camp was Haddad’s tent, where he sat alone, his only light source the purple colored light filtering through the cloth above him. The runes burned faintly in the air around him, blurred slightly by the thick smoke of incense hanging in the air around him. Several braziers of the stuff were arranged in circles about his person.

He sat at a workbench, still wearing his ancient armor, but its plates were pried open in places. His gauntleted fingers moved with surprising dexterity as he manipulated small tools through the complex inner machinery of the suit. It was failing, and he refused to admit it.

Suddenly, a dark shape appeared, kneeling before him. In an instant the armor plates snapped shut and Haddad came to his feet, almost drawing the sword at his side. The runes around him were crisp and ablaze now. It took him a moment to force down the couple hundred years of enmity and remember that he had greater enemies than the Knifemen now. He noticed that this one had no knives.

“Wraith,” Haddad said simply.

The figure nodded. “You remember the Hammer.”

That took Haddad aback. “Of course I remember him. I’d fought the manifestations of that abomination throughout the ages. The world is a better place without him in it.”

The Wraith lifted his mask up towards Haddad. “He’ll return.”

Haddad fell back into his seat with a sigh. He’d hoped, he had truly hoped that it would be the last time he would see Vaniah, the monument to all his failures. He had seen the flaw in the man’s defenses but had done nothing about it. Who could imagine they could lead to his becoming such a being of malice and damnation? “How do you know?” he asked, hoping he could prove the knifeman wrong.

“I have my ways,” the Wraith replied, and Haddad knew he there was no way he could argue the point. “He has become a real threat, in his own way. We need to mitigate the potential damage.”

The Grand Master of the Templar leaned back, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You have a plan.” The Wraith nodded. “Tell it to me.” And he did.

Taras growled out a low chuckle and clicked his pen shut. He was done with the main exosuit, but would need to add attachments for various special tasks from time to time. He looked over the design while the ink dried in the heavy spots. Overall, the design was quite elegant, even in his own eyes. The armor was designed to be near-form fitting, fluid, and still deliver a serious protection and strength augmentation. It revolved around a backpack fission powersource. While this made the backpack itself heavy, the suit could be separated from the pack for a few hours if it remained relatively intact, relying on a series of batteries under the biceps and thighs. The another downside to the relative light weight of the suit was that he couldn't design any large weapons in the suit itself. He would have to rely on speed and scavenging to deal with any heavily armored foes. Like that.... thing.... that destroyed the Army of the North, inadvertantly freeing him.

At any rate, he had a few ideas for attatchments that could be mission specific, but he hesitated to take the extra time in designing them as well. He would rather have the suit tested and ready for the europe trip. He scowled, remembering how useless he had been in the past. 'This time they'll see.' He thought. He smiled at the prospect of actually being in the midst of battle and confident of victory. He stopped himself from staring into the blueprint too hard, and rolled it up.

He found the nearest... what were they called? Tech.... people.... things.... and gestured all around at The Forge. "How does this all work?" The Tech...'You know, I think I'll call them tekkies.' He thought. The tekkie looked at Taras as one does any distraction from work.
"What? Why do you want to know?"

"I have to make..." He unrolled his paper, "This!" Shoving his design in the tekkie's half-mechanical face.

"You must get the approval of Artis before you can use The Forge to create.... that."

Taras' face turned sullen. "Who is Artis?"
The Tekkie looked as incredulous as a surprised rock. "Who are you? Why are you even here?"

"I came with Stilts and... the others." His accent slipped sounding like Steelts. He hoped that the fact that Stilts was in the room was enough to settle the matter, because he basically had no idea how he ended up here. Or who else was around but Stilts.

The Tekkie looked back at his station, "well, you still have to get permission from Artis."

"And where do I find him?"

"He should be around the briefing room."

Taras ran his hands through his fur and over his head. "Briefing room. Yeah, really helpful." He poked his head into another roughly rectangular room with a lot of people in it. "Any one named Artis in here?" A few annoyed stares and blank looks told him no. He sighed and moved on down the corridor. He moved on towards a lift doorway that had a medical cross on it. As the door opened, Taras moved in without second thought. A tall, cybernetic figure moved past him wordlessly. The doors began to close when Taras' thoughts connected. "Artis!"

Artis turned and watched as the odd fuzzball of a man awkwardly extricated himself from the lift. He got caught by the doors halfway, and fell out as they reopened. He found what he could have called amusement a while ago in the way the wolf-man gathered himself up and cleared his throat. "I'd like to use the Forge, if that's ok."

"Who are you?"

"I came here with Iliad and a few others a while back. I'm Taras. I'd like to build... this!" He flashed out the blueprints into Artis' face, upside down. "I think it'll help me... " He thought on the matter for a moment, ".. do something productive around here." He thought more on it, "Actually, it would help me do much of anything around here."

Artis looked over this... Taras... for a moment, gauging threats and checking for signs of lying. He seemed harmless enough to be telling the truth, and had the potential to become another useful ally. Not to mention the blueprints, upside down as they were, looked impressive for one so.... different. "Very well, you may use the Forge, but the Tech Priests must supervise you at all times."

Taras' ears shot up and his eyes shone bright with anticipation. "Thank you, sir! Thank you!" He sped off down the hall, the sounds of a falling locker and a belated apology trailing off as Taras headed back to the Forge.

Taras was buzzing with anticipation as the Tech Priest touched the terminal to the Forge.

"How does it work?" Taras breathed over the priest's shoulder, almost bouncing up and down with energy.

The Tech Priest sighed and began typing more into the terminal. "The forge works in a similiar way to the sun." Massive generators kicked on and the Forge chamber lit up with a low whirr. The whirr turned into a hum and Taras wandered around the room. He hadn't seen it before, being dimly lit, but now the room was in full view.

He was standing in a roughly crescent shaped room, with a high curved ceiling. Well, high for one room inside another building anyway. The majority of the room was taken up by an inner chamber, which appeared to be bear except for a few items on the ceiling which appeared to be mechanical arms. Taras gaped and stared though a large porthole into the inner chamber. "Amazing..."

The Tech Priest continued, "The chamber in front of you is filled with a relatively stable plasma. When we reach a precise measurement, we run an electric current through it, heating it up incredibly fast. Once we reach 100 million degrees celcius, we introduce a perfect amount of tritium and we have fusion. From there, we simply keep adding heat and tritium in a manner that forms a fusion core, which can be further manipulated to produce most elements fairly easily. That's what the first function of the forge is."

Taras looked back and forth between the Priest and the Forge, suddenly dubious. "But at those temperatures, nothing could possibly manipulate the fusion core. The arms would melt."

"That's why we localize the plasma using magnetism. Those arms hanging from the ceiling are not for the fusion process, and will be retracted. The extremely low density of the plasma outside of the fusion core means that relatively little energy is translated to the surrounding chamber." The tech priest, a bit haughty at being criticized, began raising the secondary light shield inside the chamber, and plasma gas invisibly entered the spherical inner chamber.

Taras took a few steps back. He had never seen such power. He was enthralled. The tech priest looked over the blueprints he had been given. "Hmm, titanium, carbon and diamond, iron, tungsten, silicon, aluminium oxide, boron carbide, -phenylene-diamine, terephthaloyl chloride, and... gold?" He looked at Taras in what would have been quizzical if he hadn't had so many augmentations to his face.

Taras nodded, a toothy smile playing up. "For the circuitry. If I wanted decoration, I'd have gone with silver." His joke fell on deaf ears apparently, because the tech priest simply returned to his work. The inner chamber began to glow, first a dull, deep red, then purple, the bright blue. The outer chamber began to heat up, even through the insulation. Taras didn't really mind the discomfort, the light show was fascinating enough to distract him. Finally, with a blinding flash of light, the plasma coalesced into a glowing, white ball of light. "Amazing!"

The tech priest shrugged, "I suppose so."

Spoiler:

Dagon stood up from his desk in a huff, there was too much to do to be sitting her waiting on there fools to volunteer for the European expansion. He checked the monitors in his office and saw the large furball he had come to know was names Taras in the forge room. Dagon grabbed his cloak, his clipboard, and his rifle as he stormed out the door. If volunteering was not producing results, then conscription would have to do.

Dagon grabbed an elevator and traveled down a few stairs and, in a few short minutes, was in the reactor room. He found Taras staring at the forge in wonder as it assembled something for the tech priests, muttering about the power of such a machine. He walked up to him and shook Taras' shoulder and yelled over the noise of the machinery.

"Taras, or what ever your name is you great furball, you are needed in the briefing in thirty minutes."

"What? But.. But I. This... I am making this.." Taras said as he pointed to his schematics, looking between Dagon and the forge at work.

'You will have plenty of time later to create what ever you want. Now, however, you are on my time, that is unless you no longer want access to this here forge." Dagon said as he pointed to the plasma core of the forge.

Taras bristled at the though of loosing access to the forge and snarled at Dagon before he turned away and headed out the door. Dagon left the forge room soon after and searched around the base until he encountered Ripper and Stilts walking swiftly toward the main building. He hailed them and called them over.

"Ripper, Stilts, as you probably know I am putting together the next mission. We are traveling to Europe and I understand that you two show interest in the mission. The briefing is in twenty minutes in briefing room one." Dagon said quickly pointing to the headquarters.

"That would be perfect." Stilts said quickly as he resumed his course toward the building.

Dagon smiled as he walked off, feeling much better about his situation. Now he just needed to find torvald.

Taras sighed, thinking he may have to wait on the suit. He looked dejectedly at the Tech priest, "Can you continue the construction process?"

"I am quite capable of finishing according to these blueprints, thank you." The priest said with a sense of annoyance. "Although, you may want to return later to appraise the final aesthetics."

Taras flashed a fanged smile and left the Forge chamber. He caught a glimpse of flashing lights and moving machinery that he was sure was an absolutely amazing display of technology before the door thudded shut, cutting off his reverie.

Then it occurred to him: He still didn't know where to go.

He wandered around the halls, trying to stay out of the way. Finally he took a lift to the upper floors, and sat outside a large, official looking room. He let his back rest on the cool metal of the walls, and took a moment to inspect his clothes. Tattered, torn, faded and stained. He still looked a mess from whatever he was doing before he got here. "I really need to invest in some new clothes." He stared up at the hall ceiling, wondering why he had to be pulled away from his work and what he was even doing here.