Brent Stinebaker
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22-9 The Painted Ripples
🕑 Added 2024-01-28 19:04:34 +0000 UTCSeeding a dragon takes more than just thaumaturgy. The ability to manipulate the chronological matter of the beasts is important, yes, but also understanding what makes their seeds bear fruit.
Culture: this is the water of their nourishment. Zeitgeist: what makes them grow. Moments in time that cannot be recaptured. That will be ingrained within them, always and forever theirs to hold.
It is hard to identify such moments, such trends among people. But our populations are vast. And with the proper encouragement, these scenes can be engineered. Picture a child learning something new. Zeitgeist. Knowledge gaining is nothing unusual, but all children learn differently, and all people come to different epiphanies. The question then becomes if enough can produce a chained pattern of uniqueness, and that again leads back to cultural health.
So let us greet our candidates.
I see Highflame. With their desperate need for strength. But in their search to become dominant, that all turned to mirrors. Lessers replicas of their great master, straying from their own paths. I see Ori-Thaum, repressing the individual, poisoned by conformity. I see Ashthrone, with their legacy of sorrow and death. Trauma is their burden. No release. Sanctus, broken forevermore; not unlike us, but where we are severed, they are fractured between points of time.
Omnitech deserves only pity. People bound to a sleeping giant. But the giant is broken. The giant is hurt. The giant bears only a single nightmare, and what a nightmare it is. Stormtree seeks salvation in destruction, and theirs is a brutal nature. And we, poor daughters of everlasting despair, are worst of all. Bound to the cycle. Bound to repeat our fates. Bound to repeat our pains. Mothers from daughters and never sons to be.
So. Where is Zeitgeist among peoples so broken?
Where is salvation finally found?
It is the clash, child. The clash between the clades. The merging of our peoples. The splashing of culture on culture, the mutation of something new.
Dragons are nourished in war. In calamity. In change.
And so, there is but a simple thing to do: to make farms of little wars, little clashes, little changes.
From this will countless futures spring, and endless dragons rise.’
-Aunt Thirteen, First Daughter and Biothaumaturge of the Hundred-Eighter Syndicate
22-9
The Painted Ripples
“So, we’re stealin’ tricks from Thousandhand now, huh?” Draus eyed the Progressive Constructs Avo created, and her mind pealed with faint suspicion. The bulk of her attention was locked on Abrel Greatling, the history between them old and ugly. “Looks just like ‘er. Armor’s right. Her posture’s good. How’d you do the Meta for both of them? Don’t remember flat having a halo.”
“Didn’t,” Avo replied, studying his constructs as they faced each other.
It took almost no Rend to restore his lost sheath. Comparatively, generating a two-hour conversation between two entities weighing far less than a ton incurred almost ten percent. Kae was right: chronology was an entropy glutton, but the benefits it provided couldn’t be denied.
Though Abrel towered over Aladon, the man held strong for his city, battling to keep his fear in check. With both templates in his mind, Avo already knew how the argument between the two would go, but seeing it happen in real time beyond the confines of his consciousness was still a sublime delight.
The cross-over from the mental to the physical by way of chrono-thaumaturgical was a worthy achievement. Something Kae should be proud of. Something that would benefit them greatly in the future.
As the Agnos approached, Abrel began to speak, gesturing beyond the translucent crimson windows, talking about using the “less appealing members of the enclave to their fullest potential” as she did in Avo’s mind.
With each casual allusion to mass slaughter, Aladon flinched. Each word Abrel spoke kindled the loathing in his heart. The heat of his temper passed through the Nether, the emanation crossing through time without issue–even though the construct was currently bereft a splinter.
All the words they could speak, all the actions they could commit, all the things they could do were pre-emptively ingrained. A collection of choices and responses simulated between Avo’s templates. With how much Rend spent composing their patterns, the dialogue between them would last just under two hours–for that was how much time it took for Abrel to finally lose her patience and simply murder Aladon.
Of course, a lot of other things could happen over the duration. An action from a third party. An unanticipated occurrence that Avo didn’t prepare for when pre-sequencing his constructs.
This was going to be an interesting experiment.
“You can shoot her if you want,” Avo said, speaking to Draus. The Regular cast a sideways glance at him, an uncertain frown wrapping over her face.
Inside his mind, Abrel’s template chimed. [Avo, if you’re planning on using me as a training dummy, I swear to Jaus–] Hm. That was a good idea. [Avo!]
“What’s the trick here?” Draus asked. Avo felt one of her fingers twitching. She wanted to shoot Abrel. Hells, she wanted to shoot everything and everyone, but her trigger happiness was always tempered with a tactical intellect. Consideration.Sighting. Deciding. Then firing.
The obvious bait was incurring her paranoia.
“Want to see how she reacts,” Avo explained. He fed memories into the Regular’s mind, revealing all his desired test parameters. “Trying to understand if the limitations are what I think they are. Find out weaknesses. Resolve them.”
Draus humped. “Well, then. Let’s see it.”
And so, while Aladon stepped forward to snarl at the Instrument, Draus expanded her right arm’s Modular Projectile Unit. The limb unfurled as her hand folded downward while her forearm opened in coiling petals. Along the firing rails built into her arm flowed a magnetic teardrop bobbing briefly before the projector folds on her arm pulsed.
A spark flashed from the launcher. A crack sounded within the tower. Kae covered her eyes as the mag-flung teardrop zipped. Aladon’s face grew white with confusion while Abrel just rolled her eyes. The shot struck her, but the Instrument caught it on the edge of her arm, parrying via her enhanced reflexes and advanced combat skin.
“Really?” she said, scoffing at Avo and Draus. “That’s your plan? Boring me with this forced conversation before trying to shoot me from the side.”
“Just had to see if you were made right,” Avo said, grinning in satisfaction. He looked to Draus who nodded with appreciation.
“Yeah,” the Regular said. “Alright. I see that. This can be mighty useful for us. Hells. We might not need to fight each other all the time for practice either. Might even be able to make me somethin’ worth a damn.”
Avo gave Tavers a look and the squire held up her hands and stepped back. “Gods, no. Keep me out of this blood-soaked mess.”
“Would be honored to Ensoul you when I can,” Avo said, speaking honestly. He hadn’t forgotten her great deed. Couldn’t even if he wanted to. “Zein sends her regards. Very impressed with you.”
The squire sighed. “I’ll watch my back.”
“Meant it as a compliment. Think she might go out of her way to keep you alive if she ever gets a chance.” Avo paused and considered his words. “Took some of her memories. Part of my current inspiration for these canons. You are like a… real person to her now.”
The flat expression on Tavers’ face told him that she wasn’t impressed.
Another two shots sounded from beside Avo. As Abrel deflected those, he studied his Woundmother’s Rend, waiting for it to climb or shift in any way.
“My essence is already invested, master,” the Heaven of Blood said. “The future cannot draw from the present a second time.”
For now. Another thing to consider if they were to make improvements. Which led into another thing.
“Kae will be upgrading your Heavens soon,” Avo said, speaking to his cadre. “Need to consider a few things before that. Go over some issues.”
“Yeah, like how you’re hoggin’ all the thaums?” Draus asked, her expression wry.
“Need Canons of Chronology,” Avo replied. His urge for growth was ravenous, and more than once had he been selfish. He could deny that each ascent up the steps of apotheosis pleased him, but his pleasure stood pale before the shadow of dread. “Veylis. Without Zein. There is still her.”
And with the High Seraph’s name invoked the desire to tease emptied out from Draus as well. “Yeah. Fuck.” The response was most uncharacteristic of Draus, but Veylis Avandaer was a figure few could ignore. Moreso for Draus, considering her alignment across much of her life.
Avo recalled the moment he extracted the Heart of Noloth. The golems he had to abandon. The sudden and impossible presence consuming existence. Every instinct in his being screamed for him to flee. He felt as if an aratnid beholding a coming avalanche, with escape the only option at his disposal.
Zein had been insurmountable enough as a foe. He had no desire to taste what flavor of domination Veylis could inflict before his Frame could rival hers.
Or if he could make a companion of Naeko. Something that Zein feared, that made Kassamon and Kare’s templates within him shudder, that granted them a true weapon to use against the Guilds. Zein’s memories gave him more than a little insight into the man. All he needed was a chance to make contact without risking himself. An opportunity for dialogue that didn’t end with his capture.
With his Progressive Architecture cannon, he could do just that. And more.
The primary concern right now, however, was keeping a low profile.
With the Domain of Chronology internalized, it seemed every action he committed sang his position across the paths. He needed to test Veylis’ reach. To see how close he could operate, and the gaps in her focus.
But though he might be loud, the rest of his cadre could still tread softly, and thus did he consider their growing role in all this, of how their development could be made further by their burgeoning Heavens.
A shiver of movement passed through Avo’s Sanguinity. He sensed a hornet slipping free of Draus’ Meldskin. Several of Sunshine’s drones buzzed by, also noticing the unknown insectoid, and it was only then that Avo recalled the Bomb-Queen implant he grafted to the Regular days back. Oh, this was going to be good.
He suppressed his anticipation as the bug crept across the ground, guided by scents secreted from the Regular’s skin.
Abrel didn’t notice. Another limitation. The construct was already made. Short of him taking control of her right now, her awareness was siloed within her body–disconnected from his Sanguinity or cognition.
She wasn’t going to see this coming.
“Want to talk with everyone,” Avo said, gesturing for attention. Taking in the faces of his cadre, he took some time to gather his words, using his templates to arrange his thoughts. “Things a bit different now. The future is… uncertain.”
Chambers snorted. “No shit.”
Avo grunted his agreement. “Not sure if Voidwatch is still backing us. Ninth Column is scattered. Zein’s imprisoned. No longer distracting Veylis; echoes gone. Naeko is back in play. And we are still here. The board is changing again. So are the rules. But we can be ahead this time. We can build ourselves opportunities. Continue to grow our cult. Our subversion. George Washington gone. But the work we did from it still remains.”
“Right,’ Chambers said. “Don’t know the shit we did with the borders. Hells, they probably don’t know about Essus.” He promptly frowned then. “Hey, Avo, speaking of which, we might wanna go check on his ass or something. Like, Dice’s mind got twisted all the fuck when you popped the Hungers’ zit.”
“Yes. Next thing to do. Need to head to the sanctuaries anyway. Spread splinters more. Chart more enclaves.”
His words caused Dice to pause momentarily, the servos of her right arm firing evenly, causing her kitten to rear its back in panic.
“More live under Fallwalker yoke. And need to expand our area of influence anyway.” But with a cast, he produced a DeepNav of New Vultun again and waved a claw across the entire city. “Peripheral solution to a major problem: Veylis. She can feel me when I use my Heaven. Think she can sense me in the paths. Haven’t tried going Zero-Burn. Didn’t get the chance last time. But have to be careful with her. Powerful. Too powerful. More Naeko than Zein.”
Chambers whistled.
“You’ll need to be moving constantly if you go back to New Vultun,” Denton said. A few heads turned to her as she elaborated. “It’s how Zein operated. She described the future as something between a growing tree and a pond. She was someone who could jump to the tip of any branch. that could jump across any path. Veylis, however, would always encompass the entire tree if left unchecked. Leser miracles took longer for her to notice, and countless events happening concurrently strains her responses as well.”
“What number is ‘countless,’” Kae asked.
Denton took a moment. “A few hundred thousand would be my guess. But Zein’s echoes were of a higher potency than your–”
Abrel suddenly cried out and then slapped her right ear. “Ow! Fuck! What the hell–”
Her head burst into parted flaps. Dropping brain matter slipped free of her hollowed skull, splatting before Aladon.
The Pearlguard stood there, frozen and horrified. “M-master’s light.”
Inside Avo’s mind, Abrel sighed. [My life is godsdammed bullshit. Avo. If you have any respect for–]
+Yes. Got it. Won’t let her kill you like that again. Good for the test.+
The Instrument’s template simply sneered. [Well. I’m happy to be considered worthy of service.]
“So,” Draus said, making her assessment, “these puppets got plenty of use to them. But they’re pretty much like their own entities for a time. With a certain amount of miracles packed in and a list of actions they can do. That about sum it?”
“About,” Avo replied. “Didn’t consider your Bomb Queen. Abrel didn’t have access to my mind during. No response to the explosion.”
He looked to Denton and the Glaive shook her head. “Zein could always manipulate her echoes further. Send them more actions.”
“An upgrade for the future, then,” Kae said.
“Later,” Avo said. “Need to build up the rest of the cadre first. Get to Sphere Six as soon as we all can.”
“Please,” Aladon said, breaking from his shock to stare at the cadre around the operations table. “We were ignorant. We were slaves. Please do not.”
Avo dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The chrono-haemokinetic puppet unraveled into strings of blood, and the tower drank deep.
“We’re not taking from the people in the city,” Avo said, his declaration settling that matter for good. “Or any enclave. Only the ones that give us cause. Have other uses for the rest. Other desires they can fulfill.” Through it all, he kept a strand of focus on Dice and found the girl focused on petting her kitten. “They have been… denied a chance at deciding their own lives. Like so many others. Want to see who they might be if given a chance.”
Dice shifted uncomfortable, her mind awash with chaos. She thought of her aunt. She thought of the dogs she had to kill. The mother she never had. The father that never was.
She thought of how many others there were like her.
“Then where are we getting our deaths?” Chambers asked.
“Going to expand our areas of influence across the board,” Avo said. “Spent long hunting and butchering the small because of the opportunities they provide. Syndicates are easy thaums. Gutters and Warrens served as decent enough hunting grounds. But cost-benefits are changing. We need more Heavens. More cyclers. More Thaums. More ghosts. Always. Quickly. Answer then is simple. I hunt big game. Other Godclads.”
“You mean we hunt them,” Draus said, giving him an inquisitive stare.
“When you can. But your worth is greater than all. All of you.” Avo took a chance then, and activated his Auto-Seance, spawning splinters anew across the various lobbies, Metaminds, and loci he compromised. He slid into the minds of technicians and enforcers, studied the Nether traffic flowing between an Oversec from within its system, and peeked out from the perspective of the Stormtree and Highflame Godclads he recently claimed.
He counted the seconds, waiting to feel the swell of thaumic mass, of Veylis’ inexorable pressure. Heartbeats passed. Nothing came. Nothing struck him down.
A hissing laugh escaped from Avo. One door closes. Another door opens. And so it goes. Before, he needed Chambers to play his personal Necrojack. To give him openings to exploit. Minds to burn. Tweak that which he would break.
Now, he was a vessel of loudness while his cadre could potentially move unnoticed away from Veylis’ attention.
The game has come full circle. Again, he finds himself the pariah. An intruder to House Avandaer and their delicate construct of time. But where Veylis could feel his miracles, sense his Soul, his mind was a silent traveler, and so they would circle each other, two leviathans spreading to encompass their own domains.
“Something I can do that Zein can’t,” Avo said, looking at Denton. “Nether is mine. Minds are mine. She can’t feel me. Didn’t do anything even as I spread.” The spy looked more uneasy than pleased at his statement. Avo grunted. “Worried about me? Afraid of me? Like Zein was.”
A beat passed. Denton nodded. “Yes. You’re not an unknown variable. You have a consistent enough character, but this is too much control. It’s too much.”
“Too much. And no countermeasures to stop me.”
“And we have no countermeasures in place to stop you.” The Glaive frowned. “Operative Zein was our counterbalance against Veylis. Her daughter was her constraint. Ori-Thaum has means of warmind suppression. But there has never been an entity capable of using warminds as phantasmics like you. No one is prepared for what you might be able to do in the Nether. So, yes. I am worried. I am worried that no one can tell you no. That you are effectively beyond consequence now.”
“No weight,” Avo said, sharing a knowing look with Draus.
“She might be right,” the Regular replied.
Avo chuffed. “Should have a third fight. Me against the rest of you.”
Draus smirked. “Bad odds, consang.”
The urge to tear into them started to rise, but Avo quenched the beast with a thought. Later. Later. For now, business. “Need to reconsolidate ourselves. Establish new safehouses in the city. Test our limits. And prepare for the trial.”
“We’re still doing that?” Chambers and Kae said concurrently. Even Denton looked dubious.
“It was originally something of Zein’s design. Now it’s mine.” Avo gestured toward where Abrel and Aladon were just standing. “Is a reason why I wanted this canon. Useful distractions. Originally was planning to create a proxy from Draus’ mind. Find someone expendable. Send him in her stead. This might be easier. More reliable.”
“Riskier too,” Denton replied. “We don’t know the Heaven of Truth’s capabilities. It could expose everything.”
Avo paused. That much was true. It had surprised him once already. But he had Zein’s memories now, and he knew more of the Gatekeeper than most others present.
“No,” Avo said. “No. Less risk than the alternatives. Won’t risk Draus. Won’t risk any of you at the trial. Too exposed. Too vulnerable. Guilds liable to start another war there. Need to stay away ourselves. Have puppets do risk work. We have other places to go.” He cast a thought into the table, and the phantoms closed on Ori-Thaum’s territories atop the Tiers, with markers pinging in three separate districts in the Purgs beneath the Elysiums.
Kae’s breath hitched, she turned and faced Avo. “Is that–”
“Waited enough. And were to test Veylis’ awareness more than the territory of her greatest foes.” Avo chuckled.
“You sure you can get us in without problem?” Draus said, looking dubiously at the map.
“Get you in? No. Hardly. I’m going to make our targets walk out.” Avo studied the Agnos’ face, delighting in the changes to her expression as he finished his statement. “They took your mind. Made you murder the one you love. Burned you after. I’m going to do the same to them. I’m going to reach into their minds. Through their covers. I’m going to take them away from D’Rongo. Going to deny their will–”
A shiver in the Nether interrupted Avo’s words. A quiver pulsed through Denton’s accretion as her face shifted. She turned and ghosts began to dive in and out of her Metamind’s halo. “It’s Cas. He just cast me; the cover’s compromised. He needs a way out.”
“Hell of a fucking time for this shit to happen,” Chambers muttered.
Avo chuffed. Just as well. This too was an opportunity, though less ideal than one on his terms.
“Draus,” Avo said, “passages. Get us to the bivouac just outside the city. Kae. Upgrades.”
“Yes,” the Agnos said.
“Good. Denton. Link. Going to send a splinter through. See how bad the situation is.”
GHOST-LINK ACCEPTED
The Glaive didn’t hesitate. A chain of ghosts spread out to him, and he connected with a thought. Flowing through the haze of data using his Sprites, he followed her ansible’s broadcast across a narrow crevice of space, across thousands of kilometers as he ejected splinter after splinter from his mind.
Cas’ consciousness greeted him as a haze of pain and confusion, and hijacking his perception, Avo found himself peering out a flickering cog-feed, staring out from the broken windshield of a downed aerovec.
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The Dargon
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Brent Stinebaker
Next: Necojacking chapters make a return, and the ghoul finds a simple, new way to claim victims.
