RuneScape Forum Archive | The Maw from Whence they Came

tmac attack

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PROLOGUE
About 12,000 miles from the colonial heartcity of Terrormark, 13,495 N.A.

Their warship Shadow Hunter descended upon a world of black mountains and looming dark clouds that threatened a storm. Metal walls trembled; thrusters beat back the air with iridescent blue fire, hissing, and piercing winds howled past them that screamed like dying things. Cleye held his breath with all the dearness of life.

" There's another, " Rorj yelled out, nearly jolting from the impact belts that secured him to his seat.

Cleye saw it too. Someplace off and abaft, a flicker of lights and prisms burned against the darkness of space above them, crystal like. But then you'd gaze for a moment only and it'd vanish into thin air. That was the third one they had seen since taking orbit a fortnight back, and counting still perhaps. Yet their radar was mute at every occasion, and that made Cleye's stomach sink like a broken ship. Finally, he couldn't help himself any longer, "I saw it too, kapetan. Radar hasn't buzzed once and we've seen it three times."

"I'll have quiet," Kapetan Grover Baines commanded with iron indignation, "find your senses soldier. This hunt will finish."

Rorj regarded him coldly. Insofar as this lawful pursuit was considered, the capital-educated officer and the gutter-born master-at-arms had been at odds in their accounts. "The raiders are floating cold and quiet in the black of space," Rorj insisted, "No more trading ships will be sufferin' them."

But the kapetan did not reply. Still, the implication was clear with a man who was eight stones heavier and as tall as a giant. What did Baines did speak to however was a sphere of light suspended in the command room's nucleus. That was the ship's Overmind. "Level us at 3,000 feet, Overmind. I would have us scout the area."

The inanimate auto-pilot obeyed.

" Initiating stability thrusters. "

07-Apr-2017 02:25:48 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:44:07 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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A new shaking took the ship, more fierce than the first. Rorj did not let up. "Remember what them townsfolk told us at Terrormark. Queer happenings out here. This sector's scarce been charted, no one knows what terrors these outlands hold for us," he looked the crew down with hard eyes, "I say we heed the warning and start back for that Legion's redoubt. It's only a short ways from here."

"What he heard from the mouths of superstitious wild settlers," Baines observed, "Do not give merit to the testimony of a peasant." As the debate raged on, their ship hurdled through sullen mist and amorphous clouds that felt like the embrace of forgotten ghosts. Then the landscape rose upon them; a sea of gloomfallen woodlands, colored like ash and ancient moss, blanketing spiny ridges that rolled into a sunless horizon. It was always a dim night here; someone had told Cleye once that Greyholm is cast in a great gray night where the sun comes only to be shrouded by the dull and dreary overcasts.

Cleye could feel Rorj fight back his fury. He knew the old man well. Obedience be its worth, this stubborn bull would brook no leverage from this officer. He had the years on him, and raw experience triumphed any fancy academy grooming, Cleye reflected privately. Rorj could bolster thirty years of wardenship, an old hand at hunting the unlawful.

But this felt not like a hunt. Tonight, an unease had stricken their squadron, with a stiffness about the air so taut you could break it with a whisper. "We are but four in strength. Five with the golem," Rorj pointed out, "Any raider band bold enough to assault His Majesty's trade ships ought to be well armed and numbered. They could have a dozen, two dozen maybe."

"Or a few," Baines suggested. He shot his cold eyes at Cleye. "Tell him so that he shuts his mouth."

Cleye glanced at Rorj with a sadness. He spoke the truth he wished were not so.

07-Apr-2017 02:25:56 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:31:01 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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"Their dock was full Rorj, but for only one huddle pod." When their ship Shadow Hunter first arrived at this lone, distant colony aptly named Greyholm, the war-galley they found in orbit was but a crippled heap of torn metal. The trader vessel these pirates had raided was not without fierce cannons and a damn bold kapetan, that much was apparent. She had lost her goods in the boarding, the trade ship, but not without punching ample holes into her besieger's hull. When Cleye was sent out in the scouter-craft alone, he gazed upon the truth of their cruel fate. The raiders 'fusion generator had been breached, and radiation leaked like foul blood into the ship. Anything with a beating heart within come such a leak was as dead as dead warranted. A few he had glimpsed himself through the glass, grotesque bloats of the damned tangled in the wirings and wayworks of the ship.

"And with that crude of a ship model, Cleye, how many a man should fit in such a pod?" Baines asked. He gauged a fluorescent plasma cartridge into his rifle.

Cleye had come to the Wardens a shipbuilder. He had known ships all his life, maybe better than he should have for it had placed him in his current choice of work which had suddenly come to seem a more precarious endeavor than he wished to bargain for. "Five, six maybe. I can't say, they were desperate, fumbling around as the leak took 'em... perhaps none were lucky enough to make it in, kapetan. And this storm approaching... might be we should fall back," he could feel his voice almost crack.

"I think not," Baines happily finished for him. "The Wardens are not in the business of half-hunts. I want confirmed kills, nothing more. Had you had half a mind, you'd remember these raiders are frightened vermin, grossly inferior in weaponry. Our air golem has the killing capacity of six well armed men."

07-Apr-2017 02:25:56 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:52:03 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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By now, the shaking had ceased, and Shadow Hunter came to a soft glide, then hovered.

The ship was still as stone now, some 3,000 over ground. Twilight struck as a deep purple, the color of a dark wine. It was nightfall on a world in which a Warden had not stepped foot upon in three centuries, if Cleye could believe the tales.

"The Lord Guardian will be most displeased with such a tale, simply trusting these pirates perished without any means of confirmation," Phillipe Greensworth said with the kind of tone a pompous pedagogue might carry. "Pirates who, I remind you, attacked a trading vessel in His Majesty's domain and seized its merchandise with impunity."

Cleye labored to hold his tongue on that one. Greensworth was as green as grass so far as he was concerned. In truth, if Baines was the shepherd, Dorian was the baaing sheep. Both were capital men, and held themselves in all mannerisms as befit a capital man. Yet Dorian had only a gold family name to bolster, some pup picked from the litter of a distant capital merchant of whom had enough wealth in merchandise to rummage space for glory. Baines was made of tougher stuff, Cleye had no doubt. Two decades he had served in His Majesty's Imperial Legion as a steel sergeant before donning the Warden cloak, and the old oft-spoken adage that a steel sergeant was as hard as his rank's namesake was well confirmed in this case. Cleye drew some comfort from that, he supposed.

"I know the damn creed, boy," Rorj muttered, "and I killed my first buckler when ye still were sucklin' at your mother's swelling teats. By the look of yeh I'd reckon you still need mother's sweet milk even today."

Greensworth deigned to reply, but Baines had run short of patience. " Enough of this gum flapping." He unseated himself from the cockpit bindings and stood, tall and menacing. "Overmind, display our terrain projections."

07-Apr-2017 02:25:56 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:51:40 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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The orb of light that was the Overmind dispersed into a myriad of luminous numbers and symbols, then forged itself into a hovering map. But it was incomplete, the mountains vaguely placed, the basins and ridges indecisive on where they rose and fell. The week prior, their crew had convened with ghostly troops that occupied this strange land. "Ghosts men from the Grand Duchy," Rorj had whispered to Cleye when they roamed the dim streets of the colony's heart-settlement, "not to be trusted I say. Only difference between this lot and the pirates we chase is that they fly under a banner." Cleye shared his suspicions. He knew these men intimately in some sense.

Here was different though. Greyholm was cold, and remote, tucked in the lonesome corners of the Forlorn. The men he had seen at Terrormark, in its bleak, dim streets, concealed themselves in black-cloaks and shadows, and spoke little, and when they did, it was with the strangest of accents. But Baines was their commander and he cared little for the politics, only the hunt. He met their superior, a cold faced marshal, there was a brief exchange, a holo-disk packed with some maps and hastily drawn coordinates was given, and that was that.

And now they were half away across this world, away from man's metal cities, into the unknown wild of black woods and solitude.

"This valley," Baines pointed to the glowing topography, "the marshal was certain they fell here. Four leagues due east. Shrouded in the trees, there's a cave in the cliffs."

"Do you see now, the wrong of your words?" Dorian looked at Rorj with a sly smile, "the incompetent duke cannot even guard his own lands. Or perhaps he's harboring raiders himself, paid in scraps and promises."

"If they emerged from that crash alive and well, refuge would be all they sought," Baines said. "No man would dare face these outlands openly. Take us over the valley, Overmind. Arm up and ready."

07-Apr-2017 02:25:57 - Last edited on 09-Apr-2017 23:10:15 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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Grunting, Rorj obeyed and disappeared into the armory to activate their air golem, a winged armored bot equipped with annihilator rockets and dual plasma gatlings.

They flew now in a half worried, half eager silence. A short voyage and yet so long. Cleye scoured his rifle with nervous fingers, secured compression bolts in his armor, and donned his full helm. Little time had passed before Baines had them drop in to beam their searchlight at the remains of a huddle pod etched into scorched earth. That was easy enough to find. There were ashen skeletons of gray sentinel trees, and blue lights still flickered in the darkness like some beacon off the sky-fallen craft. By then, the crewsmen carried some eighty pounds in gear and armaments per, battle ready. A recon droid they dispersed returned with images of an abandoned vessel. "It seems our men have walked," Baines observed before veiling his black visor. "Land us in, Overmind."

And so it was, they would land and no one could daresay otherwise. They found ground to come in at where the thick woodlands surrendered to a modest copse of saplings and shrubs. As they hovered lightly downward, Cleye spotted the outlines of distant dark mountains ripping through the earth like horns of a beast, shrouded in ghostly mists. They were nameless mountains. It was all nameless to him. Before the past fortnight, Greyholm to him was just a distant word of a far away, bleak place that few souls bothered with.

The ground came up in a haste as their ship fell. Overmind would keep guard should anyone come to their empty ship, though of that Cleye doubted such this far into the wilderness. When they touched the grass, the bay door creaked open and dropped a walkdown platform.

Their kill squad emerged from the light, four shadows and a fifth one airborne. There was a brisk air to greet them, a coolness reminiscent of coming autumn.

07-Apr-2017 02:25:57 - Last edited on 09-Apr-2017 23:11:09 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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It felt good, familiar, comfortably breathable Cleye opened his helm valves and tasted a piney, earthen scent.

"Not one of the terraforms," Greensworth said, and picked a single mossy leaf from a lowly tree. "Blessed is the Lord of the Harvest; a generous god."

"Best leave her like this," Rorj looked to the darkening sky, "I knew many a man who came to these far-worlds in the Forlorn hungry for riches, and now I know many a man who be ghosts forever. Your harvest lord don't seem so generous then."

Baines crowned their file and addressed, "Enough superstitions. Disciple will keep forty yards our front. Rorj, bring up the rear." Orange moonlight played off his dark visor. Standing there in the Warden armor, no one could submit that this kapetan did not establish a commanding presence. Baines was the tallest by a large margin, and broad shouldered at that. The gear made him even larger. He wore armored plates colored slate and ivory, reinforced with white-steel fibers that glistened in the fiery moonlight. His gloves were plated, and his forearms, knees and shins and thighs and all, and he wore great armored boots shining like black and white diamonds. He had a thin black undersheath visible at his joints for flexibility and behind his plated gorget. Gadgets and devices danced shining lights about his belt plate and in up the alcoves of the abdominal plating. His full helm was slate, and sharp and brilliant, with a great decorative-tri crest of mauve that stipulated his rank. The black glass visor betrayed no face. His cloak was sufficiently impressive, swathed over his breast in almost royal fashion, falling behind him in great heavy ripples of mauve and a dark red trim like a deep vintage. Their own habiliments were all of copy, mauve and slate and ivory, save for the tri-crest.

07-Apr-2017 02:25:57 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:37:44 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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Yet Greensworth and Baines maintained a quality aesthetic to their armor, one Rorj and Cleye lacked--their cloaks were faded and torn by use, the plates of their gear scratched and dented, mute testament to their lengthy service.

Baines' rifle of choice was so large an average man was not fit to carry it in general measure, but his strength made exceptions. Massively barreled, and cylindrical, and a sheen on its black skin like obsidian, its glass core radiated a fluorescent plasma blue as the lightning. Its model was best suited for heavy assaults, best mounted as a turret, and so his obnoxiousness was made apparent with its choosing. Yet Baines, as he oft put it, loved to "blast things into oblivion." At his hip, a glowing fire blade breathed red-white light, should things get personal. Pray he did not need it, Cleye thought...

They made their way through the shadows of the woods. The sound of their boots crunching twigs and crusted leaves filled the air. Rorj followed behind, alert. Cleye was in front, taking in the strangeness of the land he knew little of. Black trees huddled over them that wove thick canopies with their spiny claws, claws that scratched at the sky. An orange moon creeped through ash colored clouds. What must have been insects squeaked a shrill symphony, but peculiar and foreign. Disciple X made a droning sound as it hovered ahead, dodging the branches, cerulean light dancing with the gyroscopic apparatus that kept it afloat. They would make their way to the foot of a ridge that rose high and mighty, a short walk from the landing sight. Baines' consulted his wrist-apparatus and commed in to Disciple, "I want cannon on full charge come contact."

A faint wind tugged at their cloaks, disturbed the foliage overhead. The sound of some creature howling sounded through the valley.

"You feel it too?" Rorj whispered. His voice had the faintest hint of terror.

07-Apr-2017 02:25:57 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:38:31 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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Lightning cracked open the sky above them, pouring white light into the dark ether. Thunder followed, a low, sonorous boom. Cleye felt many things, he reckoned. He had done some fifty hits in his days as a warden, and none as nearly frightening as this very one. "I don't know, I... that priest in the settlement kept saying the outlands have nothing but death."

Rorj let the memory hang in the air for a while. "That he did," he finally said. "Keep your ears and eyes sharp as knives, boy. Never felt such a thing in me life."

They were picking their way over a stream of black water when Disciple suddenly sent warning back.

The woods were receding, and their mechanical golem awaited them at the base of a huge cliff. It loomed over them like a giant, with jagged slates of rock and black earth jutting from its breast. The mouth of a cave roared up upon them, like the maw of some mountainous leviathan. Stone teeth hung from its entry, and a blackness so deep filled its core Cleye wondered if it had an end.

"As suspected," Baines announced, "there, on the ground."

Stones dyed red were positioned in great number on the leafy floor, forming a great X-shape. It was a common thing, outlaws would retreat to the country lands of colonies, destroy their comms to prevent interception from their lawful pursuers, and resort to a more... conventional method of rescue, praying their allies would see their beacon from aerial view.

Baines kicked a stone over. "Markings for their friends. They mean to be rescued."

"Shame we saw it first," Greensworth happily added.

07-Apr-2017 02:25:58 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:40:03 by tmac attack

tmac attack

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"It's ... quite dark in there, kapetan," Cleye said. Gray clouds hovered over, and an incipient rainfall began to clatter off their armor.

"Yes, caves tend to have that effect," Baines replied, "are you hesitant? No? Good, put on your searchlight and dispose of your cravenhood. Disiciple ¸ fire up your beams. We will need much light."

"Kapetan, a storm brews," Rorj warned, "it's not safe to fly if it's what I fear. None of us know the weather here half so well, and some planets have storms, I hear, that rip dreadnaughts right outta the sky."

"Yes, a storm. The gods weep for me, cursed with such a cowardly crew. File in."

He entered first, no signs of hesitation. Reluctantly, they filed in. Slowly, the world turned into nothing as the sky vanished. The air felt tight, moist, and cold. Water dripped like slow blood from the dangling roots. Cleye shot the beam light about the walls. Dirt, rocks, gravel, typical ... but the smell. It hinted at something metallic, like copper, but rusted and damp and offensive. The taste was left in his mouth.

They journeyed through the darkness for a while in stark silence. The cave swallowed them further, and sometimes Cleye could swear the walls drew close before his eyes. They veered right, then left, down some, and right again, left.

Then they came upon a dead end.

"They've been rescued, perhaps," Greensworth suggested.

"Don't be foolish," Baines felt at the walls, looking for lose spots. "Scan this wall. They are clever. But rats can only burrow so far."

Cleye obeyed slowly, Greensworth pounced on the opportunity to appease, but Rorj was still as stone.

"This is a trap," he insisted, "we ought to start back to the ship."

The hulking kapetan turned to him with a slowness that made the air freeze around. Somehow, under all that plate and alloy, Cleye could feel a face teething with rage.

07-Apr-2017 02:25:58 - Last edited on 07-Apr-2017 02:39:45 by tmac attack

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The Maw from Whence they Came