Brent Stinebaker
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16-12 The Body-Garden (I)
🕑 Added 2023-10-04 20:04:44 +0000 UTCAnything cultured from Sang tissue should be regarded as an anomalous construct rather than actual flesh. With how much the Pattern-Swimmers {See “Dragons” for more resources} have damaged their ontologies, their bodies exhibit qualities similar to that of golems rather than actual biology.
It’s also the very same “biological laxity” that allows them to create their specialized bioform variants and grants them the ability to interface and transplant all manner of organic tissue onto their own bodies regardless of common baseline considerations such as blood type, infection, or even nerve-damage for that matter.
Death via conventional means still affects them, but should their flesh–or a facsimile similar enough in design–be reattached to their wounds, then their restoration to fullness becomes something that happens in a matter of seconds. This cannot even be classified as true healing, but simply a “forgetting” of the damage due to the cyclical nature of their bodies.
Of course, the dormant plague resting in their blood is also something to consider. In most instances, said affliction simply does not exist, but upon performing an act deemed culturally “male,” the symptoms will all manifest at once causing them and other biological organisms around to hemorrhage. The fact that this hemorrhage is a part in the the Pattern-Swimmers’ reproductive cycle [SECTION REDACTION REQUESTED BY EGI “ALL QUIET NEXT TO TANHAUSER”]
This often results in rapid fatalities if the affected individuals lack the necessary circulatory modifications.
With this mentioned, we should move on to discussing their recent experiments conducted on the ghouls, and how the bioform could free them from their ontological constraints. Should the Sang ever fully understand how to bypass their resetting biologies and effectively gain control of the most extreme symptoms of their contagion.
More worryingly, they also stand a chance of developing a paracausal super plague should their mastery over their post-realistic biologies reach sufficient maturity.
Recommend continued suppression of their technical development via exploiting rivalries between feuding dynastic lines.
-Aegis Threat Assessment of the No-Dragons
16-12
The Body-Garden (I)
Green River peered over the horizon of Xin Yunsha from atop the Second Fortunate at the billowing sheets of sleet and storm covering the disfigurement that was Nu-Scarrowbur. Across the way, the wounds inflicted upon Mazza’s Junction were laid naked for all to see, while a pentad of star-shaped Highflame golems hovered overhead, connected to each other by chains of sight-searing light.
The difference in philosophy between Stormtree and Highflame was made plain for everyone. Destruction was a thing to be ashamed of in Scaarthian culture. Death was the ultimate enemy. Ruin was a beast to resist, or a warg to repel. When one fell, it was a mournful thing–a near shameful thing.
To die without living your proper value was to expose your fellow mothers burdened by peril, and your boys abandoned to treacherous danger.
Highflame thought otherwise.
Death was something to impress them. A sign of honor and triumph for families and individuals. Some among them even had their last rites inscribed upon their armor, a mocking ritual against a possible end. What they feared more was a disgrace. Dishonor. The unmaking of the monomyth that guides them: “Blessed be the worthy.”
In this, the shattered bones of glass and metal leftover from where once stood a titanic cube of architecture was a twin-faced statement.
Highflame was not afraid; look upon Jhred Greatling’s disgrace.
Drinking a sip of black tea using her human shell, Green River herself yawned as she stretched, enjoying the peace between the countless calls and endless peacocking she had to entertain. The first droplets of midnight fell, dripping down from the edges of her outdoor teahouse.
The guests were all sleeping now. Only she, and two of her favorite dogs were on the roof, watching Warrens like it was their personal opera, dancing light on a canvas of dark.
Her elder sisters were growing foolish again. Emboldened by the weakness of Highflame and the anxiety of the Scaarthians, the daughters of Line Xue were up to their usual habits again, striking vulnerable districts with plagues and maladies only they had the cures to, hoping to lever another chunk of soil free to regain their favor before the unified court.
Green River doubted the Eldest would be so impressed. She had played against them long before, after all. Thought herself worthy of joining their circle through feats of audacity alone.
Time had taught her better. Time, failure, and a growing understanding of her own nature.
Too many of her sisters will die as little more than incubators for the dragons, withering away with each time the curse was triggered. She had learned better. Cultured her vessel toward developments away from the confines of humanity.
There was yet an escape in the end. A metamorphosis beyond.
Alas, each daughter’s temporal disfigurement necessitates a different path, ensuring no two transformations would be alike. Most will succumb to their own blood long before ever treading the path of reincarnation. Those ones who did understand the truth of this world–that all alliances were evanescent, and when the time came, the tapestry could only bear the weight of so many dreams resting upon its fragile spine.
It took a careful player to ensure they were included among the prevailing few–
“River. Need to talk.”
Green River barked in shock as the creature slipped back into her awareness. Two of her nu-dogs–their immense bodies igniting with celestial fire–barreled out from the black before she held up a hand.
Avo was standing right next to her. The damnable ghoul had been standing before her the entire time; she could recall that now, but previously, he was like oil upon the waters of her mind: there but above notice. Incog. It was must have been.
His, too, studied the storm clouds over Nu-Scarrowbur, his Echoheads tracing their subtle movements in the air, his bone-white exoskeleton unblemished and clean. Sniffing the air, she found herself confused with the smells she inhaled. She had tasted these scents before. Near voidships.
He must’ve been around one of the docks recently. Fascinating.
Waving her protectors off, they vanished from material reality as their flames sizzled out in the rain. Avo barely turned his head to regard their departure, clicking his teeth together, doubtlessly thinking of feasting on new flesh again.
Smiling at the Strix’s personal abomination, she once again found herself glad to have neutered the expressiveness of her humanoid half.
It was never wise to let a predator sense the depths of your fear.
“Ah. Avo.” She had the shell take another drink in a show of calm she didn’t feel. “Back so soon. I recall saying it wasn’t proper for you to linger here anymore. The situation is still tense, but if you are in need of accommodations, I have other contacts that might placate your interest.”
“Not here for that,” he said.
“Here for two things. Won’t be long.” As he turned, she saw that the shape of his face was encased in a porcelain outline. His new modification seemed layered over his skin, but the way it rippled filled her with unease. Fluids belonged on the inside. Was this another one of his Heavens? A recent change installed within his Frame?
A pang of jealousy pulsed through her. She remembered holding such power herself.
She remembered the pain when they cut her Frame out of her.
The humiliation.
The weakness.
“Want to purchase Ruveca’s services,” he said. “Long term. Have the imps.”
“Do you?” Green River said, letting her coyness mask her unease“Do you personally? Or is this another favor from your Regular consang.” A shiver of worry ran through her as he glared, but the annoyance she inflicted was oh-so delightful. “Another benefactor, then? You are a fortunate individual, Avo.”
“Yes,” he said. “Very.” He paused and studied her. “Can it be arranged? Confidential. Will make your problem go away for this.”
That piqued her interest. Nothing was truly confidential in this city, but here he was, willing to cut her free from his leash, not bothering to wait for time to do his deed for him. The cognitive bomb planted inside her was a constant weight on her stress, but if she held such sway over another, she wouldn’t relinquish her hold so easily.
“I suppose it can be–”
“Ten million imps,” he said. “For a week's work. Private session syncing my contact with her. Only contact and her. Will remove your issue next time you sleep after the agreement. That’s the deal. Negotiate and I increase to fifteen million imps. Negotiate again and I strike the bargain with her directly. And keep her for good.”
Both fox and woman kept their mouths shut for a beat. “It is rude to press someone so forcibly in their own home.”
“I am rude,” he said, unapologetically. “Being direct because I hate talking to you. Hate your constant prattling. Never getting to the point.”
Her eye twitched. “Did Bright-Wealth put you up to this?”
He paused. “No. Why?”
“Same criticisms. But only when I clean her out of a month’s pay in a game.”
His body shook. A sibilant laugh escaped from him a moment after, the expression of amusement coming so suddenly and uncharacteristically that it made her wonder if he was acting. “Funny. Let’s just say fifteen million and spare ourselves more conversation.”
Before she could speak, a nebula’s worth of scintillating gems spilled out from his mind and was flicked over to hers via a detached ghost.
TRANSFER PENDING - 15,000,000 IMPS
She pondered the request and considered what he wanted. Despite her years of cultivating intelligence and gathering information, there was something about this creature in particular that bothered her. He wasn’t hard to read. Not always. But there was a difficulty in meeting his eye; a tension that was always there, making her wonder if the next heartbeat was the one he remembered his nature as a ghoul and tore into her.
The fact that he never did never lessened the strain on her nerves.
“Second thing,” he continued. “Had another run-in with our mutual adversaries. Thought you might want to know.”
His words drained her clean of levity as tempered focus took hold. “Truly. Have they been… solved, or is this still a lingering problem?”
“Nothing’s ever so easy,” he said. Expected, but there was a strange note of elation in his voice.
She pressed on it subtly. “Yet you don’t sound disappointed.”
“Got something out of it. Was worth an encounter. More blessing than curse.” His halo shivered oddly and something about deepened the pit in her stomach. Something was off about the ghoul. There was a difference in his mannerisms she couldn’t quite place. “They won’t be coming for you. Not a priority. But know that Ruveca’s work will let me hunt them. Bait them.”
“Truly?” she asked. “And you are telling me this, why exactly?”
“Still a keyholder for the Bazaar,” he said. “Need you to set a few runs for me. Shape situations. Draw them out.”
Ah. She understood. He was here to play the game. Hence, he came in person instead of ambushing her across the Nether. He was planning to use her as an extension of himself–a barrier to whatever blowback these operations might incur.
Clever monster. A bit too obvious, and it gave her far too many options. An obvious sign of experience. “Well, if you would have begun this conversation by piquing my interest, this conversation could have gone so much smoother for the both of us.” She finished her tea and flipped an unused cup over for his use.
For him, she selected the sign of the tiger–a beast of auspicious fortunes if guided well, but equally likely to turn on its benefactor if it wasn’t fed right. An enamel representation of the animal shone, and the ghoul titled his head at her offering.
“Fitting,” he replied.
Her guts tightened, but her face betrayed nothing. “Oh. Learned something of Sang culture, perchance.”
“Just a memory I picked up,” he said. “You like your symbology too much, River. Too many stories. Makes one predictable.”
And now she was certain he was trying to provoke her. “Ah. But what is life without theme or structure.”
He grinned at her with abnormal glee, smiling brightly with his fangs pressed tight together. “Honest. Keep the tea. Hard to drink with my fangs. Don’t want to scratch your cup either. It looks… nice. I like the tiger. They’re pretty cool.”
He went still and coughed immediately after.
Strangely, there was no mockery in his tone. He was being entirely genuine. A slight frown slipped past Green River’s placid countenance. “Are you alright? What happened to you? I do not mean this as a accusation, but there is a change upon you. Control, beyond the measure of what you once possessed.”
The rain was falling in earnest now, midnight pouring its applause on the roof. Avo sighed softly and looked out into the black again. “I’m learning what it means to be someone else. Everyone else.”
Now her fox-self’s left eye twitched. Now what was that supposed to mean? How was that an answer? It occurred to her that it sounded like something she might’ve once said to something else while trying to be inscrutable, and her annoyance at the creature grew sevenfold.
Now, he was mocking her. He had to be.
“Going to be leaving now,” he said, “You’ll hear from my associate soon across the Nether. Doubt you’ll enjoy him anymore though.”
“Oh, but I do not judge a person before meeting them,” she replied, curiosity now itching. “Is it someone I know, perhaps?”
“Not really,” he replied. “Make sure your Lustaway is fully functional. No ghost-glitches. Don’t want you to get the Rash.”
That made her mind lurch to a halt. “What.”
But her perception slipped and–
Who was she talking to?
The space in front of her was empty, where–
A slickness coated her near-term memories as he mind settled. Avo. Incog. Gone again.
“Fucking bastard,” Green River muttered, spitting her insult uncaring if the beast was still there or long gone.
It took special nerve to trespass into her house and place demands on her like that.
Special nerve, and a golden opportunity.
Picking up the cup with the tiger, she smirked as lightning flashed outside.
She had a feeling this would see her broken or returned to the heights she yearned.
The ghoul was playing a very, very treacherous game, and he would need someone to navigate the webs.
Or lead him astray.
***
“And how the hells was that?” Chambers said, holding his arms up in triumph as he walked through the reflection. Avo’s holographic visage dissolved around him as he found himself back in the demiplane playing to a gathered audience. “She didn’t expect a godsdamned thing. And this Meldskin–” Chambers made an overly excited noise as he clenched his fists together. “Damn, damn, damn. It can do basically fucking anything.”
The half-strand was exaggerating, but Avo understood his excitement.
+Didn’t tell me it could deploy a disguise,+ he said, speaking only to Calvino.
{Of course, it could. Where did you think you got the technology for your holocoats from? That’s just a trick of the light. We stopped listing its capabilities as features a long time ago.}
Just a shame he couldn’t have been there in person to speak with Green River. It would have been unwise, but part of him desired to see if the impassivity of her expression would remain if he greeted her as he was now.
Between the Meldskin and the Conflagration, he would have left her with more questions–and a lasting impression.
Satisfaction aside, it would have only led to more inconvenience. Draus might’ve trusted the Sang to an extent, but there were always limits, and the benefits one could gain by selling mem-data relating to his position would tempt even nobler hearts.
With Yuulden-Yang’s local Nether only beginning to stabilize in pockets and select districts, his presence wasn’t just risky, but also potentially suicidal.
The last thing he needed was to get caught in a death loop he couldn’t escape from.
Regardless, Chambers severed his ends well enough, sloppy as he was at several points. Instilling him with additional Necrotheurgic experience, the half-strand was manipulating Green River in more ways than one, though he found himself stymied by the novel design of her wards.
Still, she accepted the transaction, and soon, they could use her as an intermediary as well. That expanded their options substantially and would allow them to muddy the waters even more. It would also be his primary method of contacting White-Rab in the future. Especially leading up to the run on Glaive.
“Chambers,” Avo said, “Begin next steps. Want you connected to Ruveca before the end of the day.”
Halfway through his boast, the half-strand groaned. “Work, work, work. Always work with you.”
“Let you grow a monster later.”
“You’re the best, Avo!”
“Also, before we do any of that, it’s time for a group suicide again,” Kae interrupted. Several sets of eyes just stared at the Agnos. “That… uh… well, it came out right. We all need to kill ourselves. I have fixes for each of our Heavens. Improvements too. No more easy backlashes for you.” She said, pointing to Draus. “Canon expansion for you.” Chambers beamed. “And I have a solution to your Nether-destabilization problem.”
“How’s that?” Avo asked.
“Your Heaven of Signals,” she said. “We’re going to break it down and build it back in again. How does a pocket dimension designed solely to store your thoughts sound?”
“Enticing.”
“Good. It’ll be better than whatever Omnitech gibberish it’s probably coded with right now. So. Yeah. So. Who wants to go first?”
Calvino cleared his throat. {Avo. Did you know that you can overload your Meldskin’s reactor? Or have it synaptically fry your brain?}
The ghoul frowned. +Also features too mundane to mention.+
{Honestly? Yes.}
Avo paused. His opinion was rapidly being re-evaluated. “Hey. Let’s do something else instead of having Draus shoot us this time…”
“But I like shootin’ y’all,” Draus pouted.
“Meldskin can self-destruct.”
“Fuck shootin’ y’all, show me how that shit works. What else are these fuckin’ machines keepin’ from us?”
Comments
Yoav
The new patreon upgrade is ass. It hurts to read now.
Brent Stinebaker
Looks like it undid all the previous chapters too. Pain.
