Brent Stinebaker
patreon
29-15 Back to School (VI)
🕑 Added 2024-10-08 18:18:03 +0000 UTC+This is Acting Authority Santanando Mondelles broadcasting to all active Highflame personnel. Repeat, all active Highflame personnel that receive this thoughtcast, listen closely.
Do not engage the Massists. I repeat, do not engage.
Contact has been lost between us—those on the outside the anomalous boundary—and those within. Effective immediately, all units that can hear this thoughtcast are designated as Exo-Boundary assets and should heed the following:
Report to Axtraxis Academy—now deemed Exo-Boundary One. You will gain your new assignments and be issues priority tasks from there.
Avoid hostile forces. An unofficial truce has been initiated between us and the Massists. They are trying to resolve matters on their own ends as well. This truce is being upheld by Voidwatch’s Contingency Bleaks. Should you encounter Voidwatch personnel or representatives, your standing orders are to ignore and avoid.
Furthermore, stay away from the boundary—officially classified as “the Substance.” It has been noted to ontologically consume matter and metaphysical materials alike. Should you come upon breachpoints—sections where the former City Eternal of Noloth; or cityscapes fused to dismembered dragons protrude from the Substance—you should report their whereabouts to Exo-Boundary One as soon as possible.
These are trying times. You may receive conflicting orders from other forces claiming to be a part of Highflame’s Seraphic Chorus. Ignore all their thoughtcasts. Trust nothing that has not been confirmed by the Contingency Bleaks.
An official coldtech broadcast will be transmitted across New Vultun every morning as a common brief.
These are trying times. Times unlike any other. But we will burn against the downpour. We will endure despite the strife.
For we are the blessed. We are the worthy. But most of all, we owe our strength and virtue to our fellow citizens still trapped within the boundary of the Substance. The preservation of homes and families comes first and foremost.
Of this, all Guilds are in accord.
Blessed be the worthy.+
-Acting Authority Santanado Mondelles
29-15
Back to School (VI)
—[Ignorance]—
Through Vator, a new path sprouted free—a new branch to a potential future, a state of execution for all who dwelled within the City Eternal. Noloth, since time immemorial, had been a hidden empire, protected by means of subterfuge and conspiracy. Now, it was cast into the light, scattered from the unified whole they once were. The once-immortal citizens of the City Eternal were like chaff before the merciless machinery of the guilders.
Now, there was no nether to protect them, no insulation from gauss fire, warheads, weaponized plagues, engineered beasts, and all the cruelties of the material realm. Trauma patterns erupted from their ziggurats, splashing through the surrounding district—person to person, flesh against flesh—a brutal dialectic in progress. One, the tale of Noloth: a people who clung to the past, clung to safety, for fear of losing their lives. And then the other of the Guilds, a people broken and reforged through Jaus’ crucible—a merger of technology and stolen divinity.
There was no fight, no fight at all. Tungsten spikes dug through walls and flesh alike, their trajectories reaping lives in multitudes as walls of fire consumed countless more. The skies above the city were crowned by distant bombs, far-flung explosions. No matter what nightmares Noloth could envision, no matter what calamities they could summon from their past, they were children born of a softer age—an eternal softer age. Against these purebred bastards of the divine apocalypse, the Nolothi could be but victims.
And so, the Burning Dreamer was to lose his subjects before he could ever truly become king. Yet by stealing one of Veylis’ precious acolytes, he created a twist in their fate. A twist that required a unique combination of opportunity, thaumaturgy, and perspective. No other could have aligned Vator’s new improvements made to the ghouls with Avo’s old sheathe. And something more.
For only Ignorance could have infused them with fragments taken from the Heaven of Love. And only he could have distilled in them nodes forged from an ego he knew most dearly—of an Agnos dead but not like he.
Empowered as they were, they hatched from the bodies of the displaced elders, echo-edged tendrils tunneling through flesh. But as they rose, instead of wretched creatures molded from transparent membrane and predatory traits, or even the cordyceramite juggernaut that Avo became upon inheriting the bone demon, these new ghouls were aesthetic—beautiful, even. Their bodies were porcelain bright, all ivory, separated only by an exoskeleton of absolute darkness. Spores erupted from their Echoheads, pouring out as if billowing stormclouds that veiled the nu-ghouls in capes in static.
But it was their faces that experienced the greatest changes. No longer were they inhuman of expression. Instead, they bore human features. Feminine features. Ridges of animated dreadlocks in mimicry of their Echoheads. Soft, inquisitive eyes—the kind found on a scholar. They possessed noses and ears and all the little touches and infused them with a dissonant humanity while the rest of their body remained more bestial than ever. But the face wasn’t all Kae. A bit of Dawton Morrow had carried over as well. For though the man was dead, his memory had mingled with his lover, and just so, they carried over, a legacy that survived the death of truth to become a Rebis of the masculine and feminine, of beast and man.
From the writhing remains of Guilders they rose. There were only hundreds at first. At first. But each was more than any lesser ghoul could ever be.
MYTHOLOGY CREATED — [MOMENT OF BIRTH]: WHERE ONCE GHOULS DIED UNLOVED, THESE BELOVED WILL CARRY THE BODY OF AN UNWORTHY EMPIRE AWAY FROM ITS GRAVE AND KNOW THAT THEY ARE WITH GRANDER PURPOSE IN THE WARS TO COME, AND KNOW THAT THEIRS IS THE LOT OF LOVER AND MONSTER BOTH.
Ignorance poured portions of himself into the nu-ghouls—these Beloved—lighting them as if they were candles of consciousness. And he instilled in them powers. Powers taken from paltry fragments of a Heaven ground down to near powder. For to breed and propagate was the power of Love, and to birth and be reborn was the blessing of the Beloved.
I give unto a new title, Ignorance said, fanning the flames of their consciousness. Where once Noloth wished for the world to starve for their betrayal, I dream of a new reality. A reality where all feed everlasting. Where there are colors to relish. Where there are tastes to savor, and is meaning to forge eternal. Begone to false utopia and pitiful dystopia. I yearn for life. Life everlasting. And oblivion to be not. Rise now. Rise and know your worth is absolute, my Feasts of Love.
FATE ALTERED – NOLOTH’S SECOND CHANCE AT ETERNITY
And as one they strode away from the beautiful patterns of gore that spawned them. From an atrocity, the Beloved walked, venturing across this dismemberment of the City Eternal. But with them rose a fog—a stormcloud. Their static-charged sporelings pulsated with the beat of a heart. And spread. Through every crevice they could reach. Across streets. Into ziggurats and temples where Regulars butchered huddling citizens, where nu-dogs skinned the bones of lesser beasts. Up into the sky, where bomber drones were forced to fly low due to the ruptures above and anti-air missile grids seeking easy prey.
Electricity surged out from the Beloved. And with it came a contagion. Once, the Haemophage could only warp the flesh of flats, unprotected by vaccines. Once, the rash was a nightmare absolute; a perversion of birth inflicted upon those who indulged in romance or desire. And now the two plagues were combined.
Combined and focused through thinking agents, for the Beloved chose their Wombs.
Drones fell from the air, bioelectricity frying their internal machinery. But where the Nolothi remained afflicted, the Guilders, being catalysts of flesh, of lust, of love, were sorted from the others. And they began to change within. Their bodies heeded a new composition as the Beloved propagated and bred.
“Children…” Morrow’s voice sounded out from the Beloved in sync. “Always… dreamed of having children with you…”
They were speaking to themselves. They were speaking to Kae. And Ignorance was the only one truly to hear them.
Failed you. Let you break. But this isn’t done. Will give you a future. Will give you a true chance at whatever tomorrow you want. Need you for now. Need you for all that you know. For all that you can be. To deny Veylis your use. Forgive me; fight for me.
And Ignorance receded from the scene, slipping back over to Draus as her skirmish against the Deliverer reached its climax and Vator flew up toward the thin threshold between the inside of the Substance and the world beyond as a swarm of flies…
***
—[Jelene Draus]—
An array of mirrors composed of twenty-four shards sailed between the ruptures. At their center was an avatar of the Simulacra. A centaur knight forged from glass and decked with guns. It was also little more than a decoy to lure the target out—but so far, the bait wasn’t taking.
Draus hated fighting herself. It was damn annoying when your enemy knew exactly how you thought, what you might do. But the Deliverer was out there. Draus could feel her anathema—that crushing weight of a higher Sphere; the corrosive miracles belonging to the Domain of War and Destruction.
The Regular didn’t expect to beat her path-born alternate, but that wasn’t her intention. She wanted to stall the anathema long enough for Vator to cross over, and then she could follow. If the Deliverer never stuck its ugly head out, then it would all be the same to her. Her objectives were flexible. But if she got the opportunity…
“Redaction Round chambered,” Her Arsenalist declared. A golden spike extended from its main cannon, its many barrels shifting counterclockwise as it took on the form of a Hell.
"Keep steady," Draus replied. “Don’t waste no shots. We fire only when necessary.”
“Acknowledged.”
She had twenty-five passages available to her right now. Only a single one of them remained in her deepest layer, where time was all but still. That connected her to Vator and would be her means of retreat. Most were outside, in a threshold where the distance between the present and future was almost instantaneous.
And so the seconds ticked on until they became minutes. But the grinding pressure never abated from Draus’ Frame. And she knew. The Deliverer was out there. Watching her. Waiting for some kind of opening, trying to figure out her game.
Too bad. If it waited any longer, there wouldn’t be any kind of—
Something slammed hard against her Domain of Chronology. Draus wheeled back as if struck across the jaw.
WARNING: PARADOX IMMINENT
AFFECTED DOMAIN: (CHRONOLOGY)
Time itself tore open along splintering veins. The only reason why Draus saw it coming at all was thanks to her Manifold Paracosmos. The notions of present and future were all halted within her innermost layer where time simply moved by inches, but even there, the attack came at her like a lightning bolt, the temporal dilation barely even.
Barely. Enough to save her life.
Draus fired her Redaction Round through one of her shards as she sent her avatar forward in a sacrificial charge. In [0.00000012] seconds, her Simulacra would shatter, and the Redaction Round would pass through it. So followed her gambit: her guess of where the Deliverer was going to be.
But she didn’t wait around to see the result. Before her Heavens could get overloaded, she dove out through her final passage, crossing over into her last reflection as she released all the others. Distantly, she felt something break. It was like a part of existence itself had collapsed. But she ignored that for now, choosing instead to get a sitrep from the Instrument.
+Vator!+ She called out, peering out through her final passage. She couldn’t make sense of anything, it was just a blur of moving shapes and—
+Oh. Guard-Captain. You return.+ The Instrument chuckled. +I have you stored within one of my skin cells right now. Would you like to come out?+
Draus considered that for a moment and decided otherwise. She didn’t know how acute the Deliverer’s senses were. If she were to guess, every time she used a miracle related to Chronology, it felt the emanations across reality. Right now, she needed to keep the lowest profile she could. Stay as close to zero burn as possible.
+Negative,+ Draus said. +We through the border yet?+
A Ghost-Link reached out to her and the Regular immediately accepted. Viewing the world through Vator’s cog-feed was no less disorienting. The juv had too many weird eyes and what were all these senses—
+I’m a swarm of maggot flies right now,+ he explained. A new window opened in Draus’ mind, one that presented a far more human-facing perspective. +Here. Something easier for you to comprehend.+
+Much obliged,+ she said dryly. What she saw made the tension in her settle just a bit. Vator was flying over rooftops. A strange darkness had formed over him, resembling stormclouds of some kind that sparked with dim flickers of lightning. But just ahead, the cityscape dulled to a meaningless wasteland of nonsensical objects and incomprehensible architecture, before finally extended out through the Substance via a vast tunnel made from ethereal gold.
It looked like something born from an architect having a mental breakdown.
Or an architect trying to keep everything together in the process of dying, Ignorance interjected.
Avo, Draus frowned. Something about the Definement was off. They sounded less. Quieter. Weaker. You alright, consang?
Yes. But needed to create something. Mythology strained me. Tired. Might need to… rest for some time.
…You’re coming back, yeah?
Yes. Not dying. Just need to settle strain. Will leave you alone for a while. Distributing what thaums I could secure for you.
+55,413 THAUMS
Deaths were injected into Draus, poured from a place unseen. They were as if coal plunging into the engine of her Soul, and ever-brighter did her flames roar.
After… after you pass… need you to… don’t know what’s waiting on the other…
Yeah. I got it. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the Greatling don’t get snuffed. And one more thing.
Yes?
Did I get the Deliverer?
No.
Yeah. Thought it’d be too easy. Did I even come close?
Silence. And suddenly, Draus wondered how she lost track of her thoughts. Already, Vator was sweeping low, a falling monsoon crossing over a vast swath composed of strange geometries. Then, there was brightness. Light. Ghosts lit with golden radiance that carved a wound into the shape of the Substance, like piercing through like.
+Here’s hoping we don’t just disintegrate,+ Vator mused joyfully.
The Regular just grunted.
The world was consumed. Their cog-feeds flickered out as susurrations of intrusive memories tickled Draus’ mind. Here was a liminal space. A place between all other places. A blank spot in a mind; an empty canvas of history; the purest expression of destruction without oblivion.
And then they passed through. The world crashed back down around them, flooding their beings with an overload of sensory detail. There was light, and sound, and—
A crushing weight tore Vator from the air and spiked him down hard against a metallic pedestal. A thoughtwave disruption followed—and poured over into Draus as well. While her thoughts ran empty, her instincts took hold, and her Heavens responded without her prompting. She felt multiple catalysts of glass around her—and a hell of a lot more guns.
+ATTENTION UNKNOWN GODCLAD! YOU HAVE ENTERED CONTAINMENT ZONE TWELVE IN THE BREACHPOINT GENESIS INSTALLATION. DISMISS YOUR HEAVEN AND DECLARE YOUR IDENTITY. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN DEPLOYED ENTROPICS.+
The swarm that was Vator beat their wings hard for a second longer before the words finally sank in.
+Do as they say; prepare to demanifest and cross over into my reflection if they go hot,+ Draus said. She used the luminosity in the room to create a new network. Scanning their surroundings, she saw that Vator was facing a curving wall made from crystals while the ground beneath was some kind of treated duranium—thaumically enhanced alloy that had seen much less use after the advent of memite. Behind them, a maw of ethereal gold loomed, stretching out into a realm deep with shifting ghosts. Looks like they passed through to the other side. Now, to see if they needed to fight their way out of this as well.
The swarm of bugs crashed together in a low buzzing clash, and as wing connected with wing, legs pressed against legs, and chitin kissed chitin, their biomass poured back together as Vator sculpted himself back into shape.
Bringing his hands up, he paused momentarily to brush his hair before continuing on to take on a surrendering posture.
+You fuckin’ serious?+ Draus muttered.
+Absolutely. Impressions are essential, Guard-Captain.+
Fuckin’ peacock.
Clearing his throat, Vator put on a smile and spoke. “Greetings. I am Instrument Vator Greatling. Recently, I’ve had the unique… experience of being caught at the epicenter of events at Scale. I understand you fine citizens might have heard something related to that.”
A beat of silence followed. But no hint of Rend lingered anywhere, so that was good.
+Standby… Confirmed. Welcome back to the land of the living, Instrument Greatling. We’re glad to see you still in one piece.+
Vator let out a slight breath. “Oh. I’m among allies, then?”
A mental laugh followed. +Something like that. It’s complicated. You’re one of the few who have made it out from inside the Substance. Just a few hours after your father, in fact.+
“Father?” Vator said, surprised. His grin grew. “Remarkable. And my sister?”
Another pause. +Orders are to debrief you at Axtraxis Academy. Now designated as Exo-Boundry One. Acting headquarters for all Highflame personnel beyond the confines of the Substance. Disabling perimeter safeties. Prepare to submit to thoughtscan.+
Draus felt a lingering presence reignite inside her.
A sigh sounded from Ignorance. He was spent. One… one more… just one more…
Comments
Brent Stinebaker
Prepare for the Fuckbringer... prepare for Chambers to rise up and stand... because someone has to be hard while the world is falling
