[Diving]
— Glory —
“ASTRAL EMISSION IMMINENT, GRADE 3. HARD COVER IS REQUIRED TO WEATHER THE STORM. DO NOT LEAVE SHELTER UNTIL THE EVENT HAS PASSED. BE WARY OF INCREASED ASTRAL ACTIVITY AND ANOMALIES IN THE AFTERMATH.”
Sirens blared across the Zone, screaming their warning for all to hear.
There wasn’t an inch of the SOX that the sirens didn’t reach, and for good reason. They were the ultimate lifeline of all who found themselves in the Zone, the system that announced the coming of the Zone’s frequent astral disasters.
For the parties of the Second Dive, the sirens’ warnings were followed by Ancalagon’s voice, breaking his usual silence to impart the seriousness of the coming storm.
“Heed those warnings, adventurers. An astral emission is no small matter. They are magical storms born from the turbulent astral plane layered atop the Zone. Even a Dragon would be cautious about braving one openly. Drop everything, even your PvP feuds, and find hard cover if you wish to continue your adventures. A building or a cave or the hollow trunk of a tree, something set and stable. I would not chance weathering the storm in the transports I gave you.”
Glory didn’t imagine anyone taking part in the Second Dive would try to ignore that advice, straight from the Dragon’s maw.
She already knew astral emissions, as rare as they were in the Sixth World anywhere outside the SOX. They were magical storms, brought about by ‘differences in pressure’ between colliding and clashing metaplanes. When those differences reached a fever pitch, they spilled into the astral and physical planes, resulting in disastrous events that could only be considered forces of magical nature akin to short-lived hurricanes.
With the SOX’s, frankly, fucked up astral situation, emissions happened frequently and were impossible to predict until they were on the not-so-proverbial horizon.
Those who inhabited the Zone had no choice but to live with the emissions. They could not be averted or harnessed; the energies within were too great for all but perhaps a Dragon of Ancalagon’s power.
“Welp, I guess that’s our cue to start moving,” Pyrite said, standing and stretching.
So far in the Second Dive, she’d had the Hoard’s party sitting things out, arguing that the other parties in the Dive needed the head start.
It was an oddly honorable consideration on the princess’s part, but then, Glory had found Dragons could be eccentric like that. They had the power to be so.
Absently, she remembered one shadowrun in their last Age, the true Sixth World, where Ancalagon had announced their intentions to one of his peers, the Great Dragon Hestaby, so she could prepare a suitable ‘welcome’ for them. It’d made that run harder than it had to be, but had also opened good relations between Ancalagon and Hestaby, even after Ancalagon proved victorious.
She imagined Pyrite was trying to imitate her father here, trying to make the Second Dive a ‘fair challenge’ with the head start and the limitations she insisted the Hoard party operate under.
“Must we~?” Belladonna asked, putting on a playful sigh. “I was having the most wonderful chat with a little cloud spirit. They always have the best gossip.”
“We need to take shelter from the storm, at least,” Glory pointed out.
“Yes, I suppose we do,” Belladonna yielded. “The emissions are fascinating to watch, but only from a distance. No arcane curiosity could convince me to venture into one naked. Well… maybe at our lord’s side and under his Draconic umbrella…”
“Oh, that would be a treat,” Dharla wistfully sighed.
Belladonna agreed with the same expression, laying a dreamy hand on her cheek, “Wouldn’t it just~?”
“C’mon, no thirsting after romantic evenings under a magical storm until we find cover,” Pyrite said.
They mounted up in their party’s IFV with Glory behind the wheel. She was the only one among the four of them who could competently drive, no matter what Pyrite insisted.
Outside, not-quite-electrical tension began to build in the air as they set off. Even with her chrome cutting her off from the astral, Glory could hear the magic on her tongue, taste it on her skin, and feel it in her ears.
Thankfully, the Administrative Council’s early warning system was good for about half an hour of preparation time, and they soon found one of the Zone’s many, many abandoned towns to take shelter within. It still hit her hard, just how badly the SOX’s creation had impacted the region. Millions displaced from a historic and fertile region of Europe, homes that had stood for countless generations now left to sit empty, whole ways of life abandoned.
The party found their spot for the storm at the top of a bell tower. There, they settled in to watch the astral event — Pyrite to witness the power at play, Belladonna with notes already in hand, Dharla to keep them all company, and Glory with a sort of nostalgic yearning for the awesome wonders of her native Age.
The sky darkened, falling almost entirely pitch black. Then, came alive with the spectacular clash of distant metaplanes.
Great metaplanar energies lit the way, magical metaphors in motion, illuminating the sky in a new, explosively lived day. The astral was whipped into a frenzy, winds carrying howling humors and hesitation and hubris, sin and satiation and skillful songs, majesty and manic measurements and magic, magic, magic…
Great cyclone clouds sprang forth, half in the physical plane and half in the astral.
Spirits swam through the storm. Some stayed high and mighty, lording over the world. Others descended upon it as lightning bolts, striking the physical plane where they resonated most.
They twisted in a beautiful dance, each carrying the colors of their native metaplane. Ceruleans and pinks, vibrant violets and base browns, whites that summoned forth images of hellish existence and blacks that conjured dreams of heavenly nothingness.
Supernova stars exploded high, high above, bursting with more and more magic to fuel the still-rising storm. More stars fell, shooting through the astral plane to greet the physical. Some lucky lights rose from the physical plane as yet more stars, new and shining so brightly as they disappeared into the astral.
Waves swelled from deep metaplanes, the energies of the storm illuminating the morphing silhouettes of great spirits within. Lighthouse beacons, mounting those same energies, pierced through the swelling waves upside down, shining oh-so-bright as they reached to touch the physical plane.
In one spot, deep, deep within the Zone, a pre-existing toxic bonfire surged higher and higher with the aid of the storm. Its flames roared, not unlike a Dragon.
In other places, megacorp structures analyzed the fraying astral and the thinning border between planes. They stood like lightning rods and attracted spirits in the same way.
Close by, Glory saw a strange phenomenon, even by astral emission standards. A metaplane seemed to isolate itself as it touched the physical plane. It was a bubble of tranquility in the storm.
Within, she spied a whole world of paper, of origami fantasy. Animated dragons and giants and phoenixes lived in harmony, all made of spiritual flesh masquerading as simple paper. Then, without warning, the bubble burst.
Astral energies tore into the vacuum with a snap of magic like lightning, forming a whirlpool that descended upon the physical plane. All of that magic was focused down onto one square foot of the Zone. Around that square foot, planes recoiled and rushed back in on each other. The space became visibly thick with magic, even from a distance.
Glory noted the place that bursting metaplane had touched for later.
And still, everywhere else over the Zone, the storm raged.
Before such awesome power, they were all mortal. They were all so, so small. Glory could only bear witness.
The scene was spectacular to her, and she was well-used to the astral awe of her native Age from before her falling out with magic; she could hardly imagine what it must’ve been like for those native to Earth Bet.
She didn’t think she was imagining quite a few transcendent cries of “[DATA!]” in the distance, carried on the raging [IMPOSSIBLE] winds of magic.
“… I wish to ride a storm such as this one day,” Pyrite said, her voice thick with awe and reverence. “I wish to be one.”
“I believe you could, if you put your mind to it, Princess,” Dharla encouraged. “You have the Moon Dragon’s blood in your veins, after all.”
“You’re a Dragon,” Glory simply shrugged. “You can do just about anything you set your mind to. I’d wish you luck, but I really don’t think you need it.”
“Just imagine…” Pyrite continued, staring up at the storm. “A push of wing and magic to ride that eddy. A flex of Draconic momentum to pierce through that nonsensical void. A summoning of spirit to gird my physical form in spiritual gold and greatness.
“Altogether, I could ride this storm to its unknowable end. Perhaps… I could even bring such a squall under my Authority, a harnessed disaster to guard my Hoard.”
“You can dream, Pyrite, but you’ll certainly have your work cut out for you if that is your goal,” Belladonna chuckled.
Any other time or situation, Pyrite likely would’ve rallied against the doubt. She was headstrong like that, utterly unwilling to surrender to petty limitations. But now, with the tempest raging around them, even the fledgling Dragon knew humility.
Belladonna continued, “See that current there? The one between that mirrored heaven and hell? It does not originate from either, despite how it divides them now. If my senses are accurate, it is the entirety of a single Leviathan spirit, torn asunder by the storm and pulled back together in a new, serpentine form.”
“Could you withstand such forces with enough ease to keep doing so for a small eternity?” She asked.
Slowly, Pyrite shook her head, “Not as I am now. But one day. One day… Do you-… Do you think Ancalagon could?”
“Without a doubt in my mind,” Dharla faithfully claimed.
“His mastery of Authority, Nature, and Spirit would see him through,” Belladonna agreed. “As would his mounted domains. Those domains give him substance and identity, beyond even his already grand Draconic Nature and Spirit. Such weight comes from Authority of being, and that is what one would need most to dominate raging chaos.”
Pyrite nodded her understanding, “I need to work on my Authority, then. It’s the magic I’m lacking most. Build my Hoard. Fully claim my own Draconic domains. Rise… to the level of a true peer…”
“Oh, that should be a marvel to watch,” Belladonna exclaimed, freakishly delighted by the idea. “Please do, Princess. I would love to be the first to document a Draconic maturation like that~…”
Pyrite shoved her, scowling slightly, “I’m not one of your experiments, Witch. Keep your freakish curiosity in check.”
“Wouldn’t you want the process recorded, though?” Belladonna ‘innocently’ asked. “I imagine it would be a great boon when it comes time for your own children to follow in your footsteps. Won’t you think of your future little ones~?”
Pyrite’s dusky skin lit up with a golden blush. She was clearly doing as Belladonna said, thinking about Draconic fledglings of her own. A small, dreamy smile graced her lips, then, a moment later, her scowl was back. The irritated mask did little to hide her continued blush, though.
“… No comment.”
It was times like this, beside her fellow living treasures and watching a wholly, genuinely recreated event from an Age they’d left behind, that Glory realized how strange her life had become.
She never would’ve predicted… any of this… as a street rat in Berlin’s anarchy. Now that she was here, though, her past regrets faded spectacularly from her mind, as spectacularly as the passing storm.
The clashing metaplanes in the astral began to retreat back to their proper places, and the storm began to wane. The energetic winds died down. The waves in the sky relaxed as physical space reasserted itself. The spiritual stars twinkled out, first those high, high above, and finally, those on the ground that had been summoned forth by the storm.
The latter would remain for a while longer in the aftermath, Glory knew, spirits clinging to the physical plane while they could. Astral events were not quick to fade. And that fact was doubly true in the Zone.
The hours after an astral storm had passed were often more dangerous than the storm itself, for the veil was thinnest then, and strange, strange astral anomalies lingered.
Soon enough, though, the immediate chaos faded, leaving a striking aurora in the sky. Leftover energies twisted into the colorful shapes and ghostly imprints of retreating metaplanes.
It was a masterpiece painted on the ceiling of the world.
The party began to move in the aftermath, beneath that masterpiece. Pyrite seemed to have an idea of what they would be doing next.
Her eyes twinkled with eager curiosity and gleeful greed, “Let’s go anomaly hunting!”
“That…” Glory said. “Sounds like a horribly dangerous idea.”
“It is, indeed,” Belladonna chuckled. “And yet, I’m still entirely on board with that proposal.”
“You would be,” Glory sighed.
“Think about the adventure! The loot!” Pyrite exclaimed.
Glory flatly replied, “I’d rather not.”
“I would be willing to explore the Hidden Things left behind by the storm,” Dharla said.
“And I need the experience exploring instead of just fighting! Dad-! Ancalagon said so!” Pyrite insisted. “Anomaly hunting will be perfect for that!”
Glory shook her head; she still didn’t feel comfortable enough about her position in the Hoard to put her foot down hard, “Looks like I’m outvoted, then. Unfortunately. I think I saw one forming nearby, though. That bursting bubble?”
“There are good odds it was one, yes,” Belladonna nodded. “Such a dramatic collision of meta and physical plane would likely form a lingering astral anomaly in the best of circumstances, much less in a SOX emission.”
“To the source, then!” Pyrite dramatically declared, pointing a finger at the heavens.
The confidence in her pose quickly faded, “Uh… Which direction was that, again?”
“This way. Follow me,” Glory said. “Best to do this on foot. There’s no telling where we’d end up if we tried to drive straight through an anomaly.”
IIIII
The anomaly she’d seen forming in the storm was close, but as soon as they entered its range, their surroundings began to go… odd.
The astral was frayed. The veil was thin. Spiritual realities — entirely foreign metaplanes — leaked through all around them.
On the edge of her vision, Glory saw the shadows of a forest that didn’t exist. It shouldn’t have been. The party was trekking through an abandoned town of middling size.
Yet sometimes, when she looked away just right, the empty houses around them were replaced by immortal trees and dark, hidden groves.
Eyes peeked around the fleeting trees. She knew better than to look at them. To acknowledge being watched would invite those eyes to do… more.
Glory thought she remembered how strange the astral plane could be from her days as a monstrous mage. But anomalies, it seemed, were a whole different game of Urban Brawl.
To be fair, her astral experiences had been a bit more focused. The Adversary, as her totem, had delighted in tormenting her and tormenting others. It’d been cruel… but also simple. Much easier to comprehend than merging, competing, incomplete metaplanes in the aftermath of a magical storm.
Still, she kept her eyes ahead, letting curious gazes from all angles wash over her. The others were less affected, but then, they had much more experience with all things magical than she did, even Pyrite.
“Hmm, hmm, hmm-dee-de-hmm~!” … Pyrite was even humming and skipping her way through the edge of the anomaly.
It was strangely grounding, seeing the Princess so nonchalant. Her Draconic aura, even undirected, kept the spirits at cowering bay.
To the contrary, Belladonna’s behavior was much less grounding.
“The Faewyld, yes…” She muttered to herself. “Yet you come from something more… Grimm. How odd, to see both of you in the same place.”
Even as she muttered observations to herself, she didn’t actually acknowledge the watching spirits. Somehow — through centuries of magical experience at Ancalagon’s side, no doubt — she was keeping a distant, academic air about her. Those curious, mischievous, hungry, seductive eyes couldn’t find a single gap in her mental wards that they could approach through.
Dharla, meanwhile, was as serene as the Moon. Still, Glory had to avoid looking at her in particular, for the spirits of that dark forest were drawn to her, and she didn’t turn them away.
Glory didn’t look back, but she heard the scraping clops of a dozen hooves. There was a bray, so soft and gentle it became loud. Dharla simply chuckled.
“Yes, yes, you’re quite handsome and wild. Run along, now. Don’t bother the others. May the Moon be with you.”
A chuff sounded in reply — amused, lustful, lovingly attuned to all things wild and lively and-…
Glory cut off her thoughts with a brutal snap. Even if she could no longer access her own essence thanks to the chrome, she retained a mage’s will.
She stared hard into the town they were trekking through, forcing the physical plane into focus.
This portion of the SOX had been part of Germany once. With eerie consistency, the elements had erased the name of the town from every sign she could see. Glory didn’t know how many people had once called it home, but it couldn’t have been more than 10,000.
They must’ve lived lives that she could scarcely comprehend, no metroplex to speak of, only something tourists might call ‘straight out of a fairytale’. Now, those lives were gone. Not even dead, where there might’ve been some closure, but utterly displaced, with the remains left to rot.
Glory didn’t get the chance to focus on the physical plane for long; the fraying astral soon presented itself in a more prominent fashion.
There was a hole in the world, stretching across one street of the town. It led to a vision of heaven, the biblical interpretation. Yet something was noticeably wrong.
What should’ve been white clouds were a grave, stormy gray. The sky over that heaven was not blue and peaceful, but dark and roiling with ruin. At the center of the hole in the world, a grand throne sat empty.
“… Well, that’s some unsettling religious imagery,” Glory muttered.
“Hopefully, it won’t give anyone watching an existential or religious crisis,” Belladonna commented. “Even if Dharla might hope it does.”
Dharla shook her head in response, “I would not wish such a dark fate upon anyone’s faith. It would be as if the Moon were removed from the sky, my Lady fell into a ceaseless sleep, or my Lord was eclipsed by Ages he forgot to Turn.”
Glory shuddered, “… Yeah, let’s… not think about that? Like, ever?”
“I will note, for any watching,” Belladonna said, projecting her words past the party. “That is not THE Heaven you might hold to, merely a metaplane inspired by those beliefs in the world. The empty throne does not represent anything apocalyptic; it might have even sat empty from its creation due to its Lord already sitting on their true throne.”
“How are we going to get past it?” Glory asked.
“… I’m gonna poke it,” Pyrite decided.
“That’s probably not-…”
Belladonna cut her off, “No, no, let the Princess try her solution. I want to see what happens.”
Undeterred, Pyrite practically waltzed straight up to the hole in the world. The tiny, shortstack Dragon stopped before crossing the frayed astral border, standing against that heaven’s empty throne.
The sight struck Glory. She remembered her time under the Adversary, Devil of the Sixth World. Perhaps it had even been responsible for this ruined metaplane. Now, Glory’s present stood starkly against that connection to her past; Pyrite reached out with a single finger, gilded in a Draconic claw, and poked the hole in the world.
Instantly, whatever delicate tension was holding the way open collapsed. The metaplane was pushed back, the astral borders inverted, and the physical reigned.
“That’s certainly one way to problem-solve a path forward,” Glory said, smiling slightly.
Pyrite grinned back at her over her shoulder, raising that poking finger, “Onward! Deeper into the unknown!”
IIIII
Anomalies continued as the party did. The whole town was caught up in the aftermath of the storm, a tenuous space where rampant magic made the planes indistinct.
Magic, spirits, and the astral were already strange. Having them blur like this only made everything stranger.
Glory saw one building, once historic, engulfed by a starry void that grew forth from the ground. The stars within were each a spirit, twinkling and dancing through foreign, metaplanar cosmos.
The void passed like a cloud drifting overhead on a sunny day, and it took the building with it.
Another anomaly interfered with their journey deeper, taking the form of a great, earth-shaking heartbeat. It was a pained and jagged vibration, but strangely, unsettlingly silent.
Dharla solved their way through that anomaly with a sung lullaby, soothing the heartbeat until they slipped from its half-realized grasp on the physical plane.
In the reflections of windows, a baleful Red Sun could be seen, always in view, no matter the angle.
It whispered. Incessantly. Enough that even Belladonna’s freakish arcane curiosity grew fed up.
“Dharla? Would you be a dear and call a Moon spirit that I can anchor some wards upon?” Belladonna requested.
Dharla readily agreed, “To counteract that demonic celestial body? Gladly.”
With the ease of spiritual resonance, Dharla simply beckoned, and a small, almost portable moon appeared over the party’s heads. It shone gentle silver light down upon them, weighing against the insidious red of the reflected sun. Then, Belladonna got to work bolstering the summoned Moon spirit further.
She dragged a finger through the beams of moonlight, drawing sigils with the shadows she cast. They bore potent magic; Belladonna was still an archmage, even if Spirit wasn’t her primary focus.
Soon enough, the Red Sun began to recoil whenever the warded moonlight touched its reflection. The incessant whispers became pained and enraged hisses — like sizzling meat — before retreating entirely.
The returning silence was glorious, and the party ventured deeper still.
So far, the anomalies had come to them, but they were still hunting for the source, the metaplane bubble that Glory had seen burst and be funneled into a single square foot of physical space.
“Hmm, we’re only seeing minor interference…” Belladonna hummed in consideration.
“Minor,” Glory snorted lightly. “Only minor to the Hoard. How is someone else supposed to have gotten past that dead heaven? Or silenced that… Sun…?”
Dharla chuckled, “We’re equipped with a vast toolset for problem solving, but that doesn’t mean others wouldn’t have found a way.”
“I’m just mad I can’t punch it all to dust,” Pyrite grumbled.
“You’re the one who wanted to go anomaly hunting,” Glory said.
Pyrite immediately defended herself, “And I stand by that! Dad-… Ancalagon says I need to get better at using my wits and creativity and stuff. This is just good practice! Just… annoying.”
“Stay strong, Princess. Stay clever and open to odd solutions,” Dharla encouraged. “That flexibility is where you will find strength beyond pure power, which, of course, you have in spades.”
“Experience in applying that power is what you’re working on, isn’t it?” Belladonna asked.
Pyrite nodded, “Yeah. Apparently… I can’t just punch everything to bits and pieces. Which sucks. But I’m working on it.”
Glory took a moment to glance around. Closer to the center of the town, the ‘minor’ anomalies were starting to retreat from their opportunistic intrusions into the physical plane. Their surroundings were left with a sort of eerie energy, but not so much activity as a… strange sense of hiding.
Paradoxically, despite Glory having cut herself off from magic, she had the second most experience with spirits and the astral in their party, behind only Belladonna. Even if she’d purposefully crippled her essence, she could still get a sense for such things.
“… Pyrite?” She requested. “Can you give us a roar? A Dragon’s roar? Just… announce yourself, nothing hostile.”
Pyrite didn’t hesitate. From her chest, an astral-shaking sound echoed before it was even exhaled. It was the undeniable might of a Dragon, power declaring its importance. But, while Pyrite hadn’t hesitated, always willing to flex her Draaconic Nature, she clearly didn’t know why she was doing so.
She cocked her head, “So… what was that for?”
“Call it a hunch,” Glory said. “I have a feeling that-…”
Sure enough, Glory’s answer was cut off by a dozen Draconic roars, replying in miniature. The calls slipped through the gaps in the astral, calling for the first roar — Pyrite — to follow them.
She jumped in surprise, looking around for the sources of the replying roars. They were nowhere to be found, yet also… everywhere this deep in the anomaly.
“Wha-?! Drakes!” Pyrite exclaimed, excitement quickly overtaking her. “Come on!”
She rushed ahead, and the rest of the party could only follow. As they did, Belladonna hummed her approval and understanding.
“Oh, I see,” She said, addressing Glory. “I didn’t even notice the eyes of a whole plane upon us. You know, it’s a true shame you’ve given up on magic, Glory. You make a splendid mage.”
“It’s… better this way,” Glory said, shying away from rising memories.
“She is happier now,” Dharla said. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Belladonna nodded, reassuring, “I won’t press.”
“… Thank you.”
Now that the Dragon had called and the unseen drakes had replied in turn, the party began to see evidence of activity in the eye of the anomaly. Small shapes flitted about overhead and danced between buildings.
They were animated paper constructs, unique spirits, and they came in all manner of colorful dracoforms. None was bigger than several sheets of origami paper, folded into strange life.
Pyrite laughed from her belly when she saw the first one, an eastern dragon that swam through the air to guide them deeper, toward the anomaly’s source. It was joined by curious wyverns, flapping paper wings around Pyrite. They struck up a flying dance, clearly happy to see a true Dragon.
More of the curious origami spirits came to investigate the rest of the party — wyrms and feathered serpents, airbound sea dragons and scampering wingless drakes.
“They’re beautiful,” Glory breathlessly exclaimed.
Glory held out a hand. One western-looking dragon flew straight into it, heedless of her monstrous metal claws, as if it couldn’t even comprehend the idea of malice. A little paper head cocked curiously up at her.
“So pure, so innocent,” Dharla agreed. “A unique interpretation of fantasy untouched by the rest of the world.”
“… They need protecting, then,” Glory said, that truth already setting in her mind.
Led by the playful paper dracoforms, the party came to the center of the anomaly. It was unassuming, a simple cardboard box. More origami drakes peeked out from the box, curious but not as bold as their peers.
Slowly, Pyrite came to kneel beside the box with a smile of pure joy on her face, “Hello, little ones.”
There was the rustling of so much paper in response, somehow perfectly conveying the innocence and curiosity they’d already seen from the small spirits.
“~Will you show us your world? Can we show you ours?” The spirits asked, a synchronised song sung in folding paper.
“And more!” Pyrite declared. “I will take you into my Hoard and never leave you alone! Whatever you wish to do, to see, to be, you will have my protection, I swear!”
Before she could pick up the anomalous artifact, though, the scene was joined by intruders from the other side of town.
The intruders were armed and armored in combat-grade suits, clearly soldiers. They carried themselves like elites, with all the skill and training that designation required, and were equipped for anomaly hunting, with full protection and mages amongst them.
The mages weren’t the shamanic freelancer type, either; they were pure corporate hermetics — armed, armored, and trained to the same extent as the rest of the soldiers.
Glory immediately recognized the patches they wore to signify their allegiance: a roaring dragon of red and gold.
The party hadn’t been the only ones hunting the anomaly, it seemed. And their newly-revealed opposition was just about the worst-case scenario they could’ve encountered in the Zone. Glory already knew there would be no hope of negotiation with elite Saeder-Krupp corporate soldiers, not with that megacorp’s hostility to Ancalagon and known elements of his Hoard.
The Saeder-Krupp anomaly hunters didn’t hesitate. As soon as they laid eyes upon the party and visually confirmed their identities, one of the hunters was on their comms back to HQ, calling in the situation with due haste.
“JAW to ARC: code WHITE WYRM. Repeat: code WHITE WYRM. Reinforcements required at our location. I’m engaging now, as per protocol… Remember me.”
Guns were raised not a moment later, the anomaly hunting SK squad spreading out into combat positions.
“Hey!” Pyrite snapped. “Not in front of the little guys, ya wageslave grunts!”
“Joy, this again. Some things never change,” Belladonna sighed. Even as she did, though, she was calling upon various spirits close by in the astral.
The first shots of the inevitable fight took out Dharla’s summoned moon, prioritizing it as an unknown target. It took a burst of bullets from multiple angles before popping with a whimper of night turning to day.
Dharla didn’t appreciate the curt ‘opening words’, “Well, that wasn’t very nice. I know your lord and mine are enemies, but there’s no reason to be so rude about it. I see Lowfyr still hasn’t learned to teach his minions any manners.”
“Back off, you don’t want any of this!” Pyrite called. “Do you know who my dad-eep~!”
A quick shot made Pyrite push in front of the innocent box anomaly and the spirits that were rushing back to assumed safety within. She took it on the chin, literally, so the ‘little guys’ wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.
A bullet, flattened against Pyrite’s Draconic skin, fell to the ground. Pyrite glared, and Draconic aura surged.
Glory knew talk was meaningless at this point, especially against Saeder-Krupp forces. She was already moving as Pyrite rolled to intimidate, intent to show that her razorgirl appearance wasn’t just for show.
She was still a monster, always had been… But now, she was the Hoard’s monster. And when required, she would act the part.
Glory dashed into the fray, dodging well-aimed shots with shadowrunning ease. One of the SK mages reacted to her approach first. They let loose a burst of spiritual flames, consuming an enchanted talisman for the effect. Glory bull-rushed straight through the fire, too quick for it to take hold.
Then, her chrome claws were free to do their vicious work.
A swipe peeled armor from the mage’s body. She ducked the instinctive melee blow they lashed out with and slipped behind them to stab a knife-hand through their back. Black chrome burst through the armor plates as if they weren’t even there, impaling the organs protected beneath.
She pulled her pistol as she turned — a powerful Salvette Guardian that had served her well from one Age into the next. It barked twice at the soldier she’d immediately identified as the leader of the squad, spitting .50 caliber shots straight through his full-face visor.
Down, down, down, the leader fell. Whatever face once lay beneath the visor was now so much gory pulp. Still, the SK soldiers were elite and didn’t panic at their sudden loss of leadership.
They turned their guns on her, focusing fire from several angles. Glory sent herself diving for cover, letting her chrome block the well-placed shots that followed her dive.
Then, Belladonna cast her spell — multiple at once, such was her skill and power. The spirits for the spells were pulled straight from the ‘minor’ anomalies around them.
A shapeless Fae beast of pure life became a one-body stampede, bowling into the SK squad. It struck with antler and horn and shell, hoof and paw and claw. The spiritual cycle of Faewyld life reaped its due, dragging one soldier away as the prize of its summoned hunt.
A ray of that incessantly whispering red light shone down upon one soldier, instantly driving them mad enough to open fire into their comrade’s back before turning their gun on themself.
She didn’t, however, call upon the spirits of the anomaly’s source. Even in the midst of combat, it felt wrong to mar their innocence so.
From cover, Glory fired the rest of her pistol’s magazine into the squad. One more fell. The rest found cover of their own as a matter of course, firing back with deadly accuracy that ricocheted off Glory’s chrome.
One round found what flesh she had left. Glory ignored the punch of the bullet and the pain that followed.
Pyrite was stuck in place, protecting the box of innocence and fantasy. But standing stock still in the open didn’t seem to be much of a disadvantage for her. She roared, pulsing her Draconic aura in a challenge for all of Saeder-Krupp in the SOX to hear.
If their presence was going to be known, it might as well be known in full.
Even the elite soldiers of another Dragon’s Hoard flinched at the roar. Dharla took advantage of the flinch, that crack in their composure.
Moonlight poured forth from her as musical notes, an infectiously beckoning song that drew the soldiers from cover against their will. They were good enough to shake the effect a moment later, but it was still a moment too late.
Pyrite took a breath, summoning her Dragon totem in her chest, and released it as a wave of gilded fire. The flames spilled over the SK squad. One unlucky soldier at the fore was consumed whole. The rest scrambled to put out the golden fire to avoid the same fate.
In their distraction, Glory sprang into melee once more. Blood and viscera sloughed off black chrome as she rampaged through her enemies, a monster in their midst.
She ripped. She tore. She gave in to the monster she looked like, ignoring the memories of a different monster she’d once been. That monster wished it could be her as she was now.
She’d given up her magic, but she’d gained chrome in return, and a Draconic sponsor who gave her a place to truly belong, one she was willing to kill for, live for, be better for.
Before long, nothing living remained of her monstrous rampage. Armor was shredded. Enemy chrome was ripped from enemy flesh. Guns were abandoned, stained with their wielder’s lifeblood.
Glory stood in the aftermath, covered in blood, panting from her exertion, and… internally cringing at the idea that she might never escape the violence.
She wasn’t even sure she ever wanted to.
For all that she hated it… she also loved it. The power, the unstoppable surety of self, the thrilling rush of something she was so, so good at.
How could she loathe her past violence and revel in her present violence in the same breath…? She would always be a monster, magic or chrome, under Adversary or Dragon… And as much as she tried to be better when she could, when she couldn’t…? She didn’t think she would have it any other way.
As she came down from the violence, as she came back to her desire to be better when she could, Dharla came up to her with a gentle, understanding, and compassionate embrace.
She didn’t care about the blood covering Glory, only that one of her fellow living treasures was in inner turmoil. Her light of the Moon soothed complicated, warring sentiments within Glory, reminding her that violence wasn’t all she was anymore.
Glory sagged into the embrace for a few blissful moments, leaning her forehead against Dharla’s shoulder.
“We take you, monster and all,” Dharla assured her.
Glory nodded against her shoulder, and when she was ready, stood straight once more, grateful that her loved and hated violence was only temporary these days.
“Right, now to deal with the fallout,” She muttered.
“’Twas expected, though inconveniently timed,” Belladonna drawled, waving at the dead Saeder-Krupp soldiers. “Lowfyr’s Hoard never was able to leave us alone, and they maintain a significant presence in the SOX.”
“They’ll be tracking us from here,” Glory said. “For the rest of the Dive. It’s SK policy to never let up when they encounter anything or anyone related to Ancalagon.”
“We’ll just have to keep moving,” Pyrite shrugged, cradling the box of innocence in her arms. “And maybe see if we can recruit some of the other parties in the Dive for backup.”
Belladonna chuckled, “What’s a whole branch of Saeder-Krupp on the hunt compared to even one living treasure of the Hoard? We’ve certainly won out against worse odds.”
Pyrite grinned, showing teeth, “Hell, let’s get proactive about it! If they’re going to hunt us, hunting them right back is just fair game! Who knows, maybe they’ll even lead us right to ol’ Feuerschwinge!”
Glory frowned slightly at that. The Hoard’s time in the Zone during their last Age had not been focused on hunting down Feuerschwinge. They were flying almost as blind as the rest of the parties for that objective.
Almost…
Glory… distinctly remembered encountering Feuerschwinge during the shadowrun where she’d first met Ancalagon. But that’d been in Berlin, not the SOX, the result of a mad crusader’s schemes to kill all Dragons.
The rest of the Hoard hadn’t taken part in that run; she met them later after sticking with Ancalagon. Still, she was pretty certain they wouldn’t be finding Feuerschwinge herself in the Zone as a result.
That said… Ancalagon wouldn’t have set that as the Second Dive’s objective for no reason. There had to be… something of Feuerschwinge in the SOX.
Having met the Great Dragon, however briefly, before freeing her from the madman’s captivity, she dreaded finding out… what.
IIIII
— Ancalagon —
“Your rivalry with Lowfyr is becoming a rather important plot point in the Second Dive, Dragon,” Calamitas commented, audibly amused.
“I somewhat expected it would,” I chuckled. “It was a significant plot point of our last Age, after all, so this is simply the Sixth World remaining true to form.”
“The Hoard’s party bears the brunt of the attention there because they’re known factors of yours,” Jenevelle said. “But as we saw with the Guild party, any revealed association with you can drag others into the… beef.”
The stream continued to follow my Hoard as they got moving again after an eventful few hours. I was playing slight favorites there, but with what was essentially a corporate hunt called on that party in particular, I felt a bit more focus on them was justified.
Elsewhere in the Zone — off-screen, so to speak — Saeder-Krupp was undoubtedly mustering significant forces to give chase. There were a scant few lengths that megacorp wouldn’t go to when even a hint of me was on the table, a policy passed directly down from Lowfyr.
The party pulled out of the anomalous area engulfing the town — now neutralized due to Pyrite absconding with the source in that innocent little box of spirits that contained a whole metaplane.
That artifact was a bit of a curiosity to me, for it wasn’t part of my Hoard. The Dungeon was already growing in leaps and bounds, enough so that it could now concoct such interesting loot on its own.
I hadn’t expected it to gain that ability and agency so quickly, but it said very good things about the Dungeon’s future.
We watched my living treasures pile back into their transportation and begin to drive west. All the while, chat reacted to their time in the stream’s spotlight.
‘God damn… Glory’s a monster.’
‘OUR monster. Well, Ancalagon’s, but I certainly didn’t mind watching her work.’
‘Nah, she has layers, I think. She looks scary — she IS scary, but that’s not all she is. Remember, she’s also the Hoard’s healer, along with maybe Dharla.’
‘To put people back together, healers also have to know how to take them apart.’
‘So what were the Saeder-Krupp soldiers even doing there? They didn’t come for the Hoard, right? Just happened to be… in the neighborhood or what?’
‘I think they were doing the same thing as the Hoard, actually. Anomaly hunting in the wake of, well, you know.’
‘If I were a massive megacorp with little in the way of principles other than profit, I’d probably go looking for interesting anomalies to research and exploit, too.’
‘That… sounds like really, really dangerous work. Those soldiers must’ve been ELITE-elite. And the Hoard took them apart that easily…?’
‘All while their hardest hitter had to protect that box of adorableness, too. P.S. I want an animated origami dragon so, so badly now…’
‘They’re definitely frontrunners for the Second Dive. But don’t count Lady out just yet!’
‘Or the remaining Protectorate party! Check their stream! They’re doing good work, AND they have Vista! Ancalagon, can we put the spotlight on them next?’
‘Man, those anomalies are still fucking with me. Like, the paper dragons are adorable, but they were literally the only even somewhat palatable things in there.’
‘… Don’t mention the empty throne.’
‘… Or the Red Sun.’
‘… Or whatever the fuck was lurking between those trees.’
‘I’m still caught up on the storm that started it all. Like, WHAT DO YOU MEAN those happen regularly?! The whole world just decides to tear itself apart at random?? God, living in the SOX must SUCK!’
‘At least they have an early warning system in place. That might be the one good thing the megacorps are doing in the Zone.’
‘It was AWESOME, but I am really glad I could enjoy the view from the safety of my own home. Having reality tear itself apart and put itself back together in a slightly different way does NOT sound like a good show to be in the splash zone of.’
‘I checked the other streams while it was happening. No one got caught out in it, at least, though I think the MOX, Protectorate, and Faultline parties are still braving the aftermath. The MOX can’t catch a break with the spiritual shenanigans.’
‘Nah, Faultline’s kinda caught in the aftermath, but they’re kinda chilling, too. They have some local Radpunks to guide them through the anomalies.’
‘The Protectorate isn’t. They’re up against a dark wizard or something.’
‘… Well, I guess we know where the stream’s going next. Ganbatte, Magical Girl Vista!’
I made a note of that chatter in chat, intending to switch the stream’s focus to the remaining Protectorate party in the Dive once I was done playing favorites. Until then, though…
The Hoard had just caught the trail of an interesting Saeder-Krupp patrol: the one hunting the Undersiders and their surprisingly accommodating, MMVV-infected hosts.
“Oh, this should be a fun crossing of the paths,” I chuckled and switched the stream to a dual-view to enjoy both sides of that show — the hunted and their odd guides and the hunters’ hunters.