Nivilack
patreon
Super-Soldier in Another World: Chapter 32: Dragon's Blood
🕑 Added 2022-11-13 21:34:23 +0000 UTCLance giggled as Hoplite downed another pitcher of wine, the man’s head swaying to and fro as he set the container back down with a gasp. The man had practically drowned himself with how long he had been chugging… Thankfully, Hoplite apparently had gigantic lungs. The root-table before them was strewn with all manner of emptied plates, with some piles of them stacked as high as Lance was tall. An impromptu eating contest had taken place between Hoplite and ten elf men, with Hoplite coming out as the victor. Lance in her drunken haze had taken note that Hoplite’s cheeks had filled in quite a bit after the massive meal. He certainly hadn’t been emaciated, his cheeks had not appeared all too hollow before the eating had begun…
But now they were completely filled out, even bordering on the definition of chubby. It was hard to see of course, Hoplite’s face was hard plains and sharp angles, even with the added fat. How had he put on weight so quickly? There had been hardly any time for Hoplite to properly digest the food he’d eaten. Then again, something similar happened after he had defeated the Pillar-Born. His cheeks had looked deathly hollow then… Up until he devoured that rabbit. An unpleasant memory, one she’d like to forget.
Lance forcefully turned her thoughts from that, instead focusing on Hoplite’s bright smile. Bloody and stuck with torn gray fur, the sound of crunching bone still echoing in her ears- She shook her head and took a deep, shaking breath. Lance thought that she had gotten over it after she had allowed Hoplite to spin her about, but there were still echoes of fear deep within her it seemed. There was a solution for this however.
She took a long swig of Akan-Dari whiskey, not bothering to pour it out of the large bottle it came in and instead opting to simply down it straight out of the container. Lance heard several nearby elves chastising her for such a disgusting act. Well, none of them had made a peep while watching Hoplite drink straight out of the pitchers, so Lance couldn’t bring herself to care. The night's drinking had also helped Lance shed her regard for her fellow elf, it wasn’t her fault that they didn’t get their spit on the bottle first!
Akan-Dari whisky was a powerful form of drink, oft enough to put down smaller elves than she with just a single sip. Perhaps chugging half of it in one go wasn’t the wisesht deshishion she coodve med.
Pfft, she wash a goddesh of drenck, nuthin’ could shtop her frum not carin’. Whash hud shu been doon? Oh byeah.
“Hopshilit!” Lance shouted mightily “Ya hash to trey dis whishkey, it’ll pot heir on yer ‘ead!”
He lazily turned his head toward her, his eyes on the brink of shutting, perhaps for the next decade with how puffy his eyes had become. Those heavy tired eyes spotted the bottle, and Hoplite merely gestured for it with a lazy hand. Lance didn’t hesitate as she approached her large buddy, proffering the bottle to Hoplite with an encouraging smile. Hoplite then took the bottle, and knocked it back in a single long chug. The surrounding elves gasped in horror as their eyes finally found the label of the bottle.
Lance, in a moment of clarity, thought about how awful her hangover was going to be if she didn’t drink any water… In fact, it might be a good idea to hold off drinking anymore tonight, the whisky she had downed was enough to put down an orc twice her size, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t give her a brain splitting headache later. Since she wouldn’t have to sleep tonight, she would just prioritize drinking water throughout the rest of the festivities.
Thank the Pillars she had the strongest liver on Ahkoolis, otherwise, all this drinking might have killed her. Lance knew other elves wouldn’t have been able to drink half as much as she had tonight. Muro could never beat her in a drinking contest… no matter how hard he had tried. Muro had been proud that he had crafted Lance to be one of the best watchers in the Faewood, but he was somewhat spiteful that Lance was capable of outdrinking him.
So they would get together to drink, twice a year for about one-hundred years. Out of every single one of those contests, Muro had not won a single time. The last one Lance and Muro had before his final rest ended hilariously. When Muro was at his drunkest, Lance had convinced him that it would be a fantastic idea to twin-braid his hair. She had told him about the advantages of such a hairstyle, such as how it would collect his hair into two shorter lengths, rather than one long one. The other advantages she told him were just… well, she couldn’t quite remember. Lance had been quite drunk of course.
The end result was Muro with his hair in childish pigtails, hanging down the side of his head. Lance had gone out of her way to find a pair of colorful pink ribbons, tying them into Muro’s black hair. So Muro, in his newfound confidence, apparently believed that he would be able to finally win the Harkmother’s hand in marriage with his luscious pigtails.
He was then ordered to keep that hairstyle for an entire day, which Muro had done without a complaint. Lance knew that inside though, Muro was absolutely seething. Any elf that looked into his eyes could’ve seen that emotion burning like hot coals. It was absolutely hilarious, to her anyway. Muro had ordered her to never convince him to do anything while drunk again.
That would be a good story to share actually!
“Herpalit!” Lance shouted right in the man's face “Can I tell ye a shtory?” She asked, placing both hands on his shoulder plates to keep from falling down face-first into the dirt at his feet.
He merely grunted in affirmation, those tired golden eyes barely maintaining eye contact with her. Being up close like this, she was more easily able to read what lay behind Hoplite’s eyes. The drunken haze had made it somewhat difficult for her to focus in on his eyes, but now that they were basically nose to nose…
She could see that he was happy.
…
…
…
"Anyway, frogs are quite fascinating. The yellow barrel-chested frog known as the Zist are capable of emitting a glowing light from their eyes.” Lena told Michael as she looked inside of his open mouth. “Standard human teeth…” She whispered to herself before continuing “It is unknown if the Zist emit this glow to ward off predators or to attract mates, but I have determined that this glow can be triggered if a zist frog is presented with alcohol.”
“Uhhhhmm.” Michael replied, shifting his tongue away from Lena’s finger.
“Have you had three sets of teeth in your lifetime so far, or are you still growing out of your adolescent teeth?” Lena asked, withdrawing her finger from Michael’s mouth.
His adolescent teeth? Three sets in his lifetime?
He wiped off his lips and spit into a nearby wine glass before replying “Nah, humans got two sets a’ teeth in their lives.”
“Strange.” Lena whispered to herself, her voice nearly inaudible over the drunken bustle of the party surrounding them.
They had opted to retreat to the edge of the party, right at the end of one of the tables near the root wall. Michael had decided that it likely wasn’t going to be an issue to let the elf girls play nurse on him… he wasn’t comfortable with giving them his blood though. Not that he was afraid of a little knick or anything… Besides, they said that just some spit and nails would be adequate.
The procedure was only somewhat invasive, nothing intense as they were still surrounded by a crowd of elves.
“Humans on Ahkoolis have three sets in their lifetime. Baby teeth, a set for adolescents, and the final set for adulthood.” Lena’s sister, Linnie told him as she not-so-discreetly grabbed the wineglass Michael had spit in before putting it in a small sack. She looked almost exactly like her sister, to the point where Michael really was considering if the two were really twins after all.
Michael and Lena had managed to find Linnie before she could locate Hoplite; a blessing considering how Hoplite may have reacted to Linnie’s request.
“That’s friggin’ weird.” Michael said with a shake of his head. He could hardly imagine what it would be like to have had three sets of teeth throughout his life… Probably not that weird really, just a second set of baby teeth right? He shook his head again, his skull feeling heavy as it swung to and fro. The drinking had been good… real good. He hadn’t been this trashed since before Earth fell…
Since he last saw his friends and comrades-
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. If he began crying now, he would not stop until he was sober again… which wouldn’t be for a long time. Michael wanted to enjoy his drunkenness, he would not turn his current euphoria into a sobfest… especially not in front of strangers.
“From our perspective, it’s weird that you only have two sets.” Linnie said as she pulled out a pair of tweezers from a knapsack “May I take a hair sample?”
“Yeah sure.” Michael said, lifting his head to look at Lena “So how much longer is this gonna take?”
Lena smirked “Not too much longer, thank you again for allowing this examination Michael… especially considering how informal a request this was.”
Linnie nodded along with her sister's words as she plucked a stray hair from Michael’s beard. He winced as the hair was yanked free from his face. They coulda just asked him to take off his helmet… getting his beard hair yanked wasn’t pleasant. After Linnie pocketed Michael’s lost beard hair, he stood, looming over both Linnie and Lena. His eyes had been getting heavier and heavier for hours now… Michael was on the verge of passing out… he realized.
So much for being able to party all night. He hadn’t even really done all that much partying, just eating and drinking… Michael supposed that the act of simply eating and drinking at a party could be considered ‘partying’ but it still felt like Michael had done nothing. Well, except get a quick exam from some elven eggheads. Maybe he could just crash for an hour or so?
“Can we finish up? I need to take a quick nap.” Michael yawned, rubbing at his eyes with the palm of his gauntlet.
Lena then placed a hand on Michael’s chestplate… and she gave Michael a strange… hungry look. Michael looked back to Linnie who was just shaking her head and rolling those purple eyes of hers.
“I’ve gotten all the samples I need, please, enjoy the rest of your night.” Linnie said with an annoyed huff, promptly turning away from the two of them to be reabsorbed into the shifting mass of elves.
Michael then turned back to Lena, a small frown on his face.
“What’s going on?” Michael asked, attempting to hide the concern in his tone.
Based on Lena’s laugh, it was a pitiful attempt.
“There is… one more thing to do, Michael. If you’re willing to come with me, we can begin the… ‘endurance’ test.” Lena continued, putting emphasis on the word ‘endurance’ “You are quite a specimen, I think we will both enjoy the procedure.” She said, that smirk deepening.
Woah. Michael blinked in surprise, completely caught off guard and unable to properly react when Lena grabbed his hand.
“What do you say?” Lena asked as she leaned into him.
“I- uh-” He stuttered like an idiot. He just- it was- Michael wasn’t used to being the one who was propositioned! And he certainly hadn’t been expecting it from Lena! Unless maybe she was playing a prank on him of some kind? Yeah, that had to be it. She would lead Michael away with sweet words before making him jog around the rootwall as an ‘endurance’ test. That had to be it. Michael grinned, deciding to play along with the joke.
He’d have her jog along with him when it came time, and if Lena didn’t, he’d just go and pass out like he had planned. Show her to treat him like some kinda moron… Well, to be fair, he wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the tool shed, but he was still capable of rational thought… while sober.
“Sure thing, always glad to show how fit I am.” Michael said confidently.
Lena’s grin deepened, and she began leading him away from the party…
And out of the root bowl.
…
…
…
Hoplite’s eyes slowly opened, his lids struggling to open through a fine layer of what felt like cement. Hoplite let out a groan, sitting up slowly from his position atop a rough gnarled wooden floor. He shook his head, thankful that it wasn’t pounding from last night's drinking… wait…
Drinking!?
Hoplite’s face burned like he’d just been blasted with plasma, the heat searing his flesh as he remembered how he had humiliated himself by galavanting around with a bunch of elves, as if he were some kind of civilian fop! He fought the urge to cover his face in his hands, as such a display would only serve to embarrass him further…
“Ah, finally awake.” He heard Lance’s voice say “Gotta say friend, you’re more of a party animal than I thought you’d be, once the drink got in you.”
Hoplite looked up to see Lance, sitting before the open mouth of what seemed to be a cavern made entirely out of gnarled wood. The sun bled through the opening, illuminating the interior to reveal Lance sitting atop a blanket, her sandals laying strewn next to her. She sat with her legs crossed, looking back to him whilst bracing her hands against the ground. A clear bottle of blood-red wine sat next to her, gleaming in the sunlight. The mouth of the wooden cave beheld a view over a field of green grass far beneath it.
Lance lifted a dark eyebrow “Get drunk?” Hoplite said nothing in response, but Lance still continued “I didn’t think that the peace would affect you in such a way, had to be one of the most interesting nights of my life, I think.” She turned toward him fully, kneeling atop the blanket and grabbing the bottle of wine with a smile “I didn’t think it was possible for any man, no matter his size, to be able to drink more than me. Good contest, but you won’t beat me next time.”
Hoplite turned his head from her, slowly as to not seem in any way flustered. The mere thought of his humiliating behavior last night (what he could remember of it anyway) was enough to nearly melt his flesh. He would not let Lance see his eyes to know the embarrassment there. Thankfully he hadn’t taken off his armor last night, who knows what could have happened if it hadn’t been on… but he had removed his helmet-
His eyes went wide when he felt at his waist for his helmet, only to realize that it was missing. Hoplite stood abruptly, like a boulder suddenly rising from the earth before promptly turning around to stare at the second mouth of the cavern. It was a tunnel of gnarled wood, dark and leading to who knew where. With his vision he was able to see much further in the darkness than a normal human would have, even without his helmet, but he had no idea where the exit to this strange place was. Best to just jump out of the cavern’s mouth and-
“Calm down.” Lance ordered “I have it right here.” She said, Hoplite turning his head to see her rising from the blanket “You said I could have a look at it while you slept. Had a feeling you would freak out a bit once you woke up.”
As she stood, Hoplite could see his helmet, sitting right in front of where Lance had been laying. The black metal gleamed in the morning sunlight, and he held back a sigh of relief. He quickly approached it, moving around Lance to lift it from the blanket and slip it over his head. The familiar weight of the helmet served to comfort him, both for the… rightness of it, and the thought that none would be able to see the red staining his cheeks.
He turned to Lance “The activities of last night are to be kept confidential from private Michael until further notice, is that understood?”
Lance lifted a couple of fingers to her lips and giggled “Don’t worry, he won’t be hearing about what happened from me… the other elves though?” She said with a shrug “Can’t say for them… but I heard Michael left the party early with an elf girl, so he may not have heard anything yet.”
Hoplite’s skin went cold.
“Where is their location?” Hoplite asked urgently “We have to find him, he could be in danger.”
Lance placed a hand gently on his arm and smiled “He’s fine, trust me. He’s in this root cluster somewhere, we just have to head downward, since this is practically the top of the cluster.” She said, pointing to the dark exit behind him.
“How do you know that this is where he ended up?” Hoplite asked “He could be anywhere in the Bastion by now.”
“The death-day technically doesn’t end until day breaks, but some elves do tire of the celebrations and gather in the nearest root-cluster to rest. This is the closest one to Muro’s party so if Michael came to rest, it’d be here.” She told him, kneeling down to begin strapping on her sandals “We’ll leave the wine, I don’t feel like drinking anymore after last night. Unless you want to-”
“Negative. Let's move out.” Hoplite said, sparing the briefest of looks for the bottle before turning away.
For the briefest of instants, Hoplite had seriously considered taking the bottle with him… A temptation that sent a chill of fear up his spine. He was… he was beginning to want.
‘A thing does not want!’ Commander screamed in his ear, nearly causing Hoplite to jump.
He checked his camera’s to see where Commander was hiding… How had he gotten on Ahkoolis? How did he know that Hoplite wanted more drink? Either way, if Commander had found Hoplite that was a good thing. Commander had disappeared along with Lord Jyn, meaning that Terna would soon rise back to its feet. Hope filled Hoplite as he observed the surrounding cave…
But commander wasn’t there.
It was just Hoplite and Lance, no one else.
Another cold spike in his spine… What was happening to him? Hoplite had never before suffered from auditory hallucinations… did one of the implants in his brain short circuit? Was it one of the co-processors? A part of the synaptic accelerator? There was no way to tell until he could see a physician…
For now, he’d need to keep this in mind in case it happened again.
Lance shook her head with a small smile, standing after putting on her sandals. Hoplite then promptly turned, and began into the tunnel, Lance quickly following despite her poor footwear. The winding tunnels of darkness made Hoplite truly wonder if Michael would ever set foot within this place. After all, with how he had been reacting to the dark, this would have been the last place Hoplite would have expected the marine to go… unless he had a light source.
Which Michael indeed would have, Hoplite knew for a fact that he had taken one from Hoplite’s escape pod before they had come to this party. Hopefully Michael will have left his flashlight on, that would make locating him significantly easier. It wasn’t till they reached the bottom of the cluster that they finally found him… sitting right at the mouth of a root cavern.
Michael was splayed out on his back, his feet just barely sticking out of the gnarled wooden cavern. Hoplite quickly activated his thermals, seeing that Michael was indeed alive… He rushed over to the marines side, his quick footsteps crunching wood and seeming to shake the whole root cluster. Lance struggled to keep up with Hoplite, her sandals slowing her considerably before she finally reached Hoplite.
Michaels face was pale, his eyes bloodshot and his eyelids dark and puffy. Had he been exposed to some kind of chemical weapon? Damn Hoplite’s dulled senses for not forcing Michael to wear his mask! Or… or was the marine just sleep deprived? Hoplite leaned in closer, Michael’s blue eyes finding him and grinning.
“Hey sir… sorry, I got busy last night. Uh… all night really. She didn’t let me sleep.” Michael whispered “You got any water?”
Hoplite shook his head “Not on me… who didn’t let you sleep? Were you held prisoner? Did this girl torture you?”
Lance just sighed “I wouldn’t say torture. Look at that stupid smile on his face.” Lance pointed out.
Indeed, Michael was smiling “That had to be the best worst night of my life… or worst best night? I wanted to sleep but oh man…”
Hoplite’s brows knit in confusion “What are you talking about? Intel now, private.”
Michael’s breath caught for a moment, cold fear replacing his tired expression.
Lance looked up at him with an eyebrow raised “I think he got snagged by a humanophile.”
Michael groaned as he lifted a hand towards Hoplite, who grabbed it. Hoplite then easily lifted Michael to his feet, the marine’s eyes widening a moment before he let out a loud belch. Hoplite’s brows remained knit. A humanophile? What kind of term was that exactly?
“You remember those girls that kept latching onto you last night Hops?” Lance asked as she stood.
“Affirmative. Very unprofessional behavior.” Hoplite said, recalling the multiple incidents where an elf woman would clasp onto him in a… not appropriate manner. Thankfully Lance had battered them off of Hoplite in a drunken fury, for Hoplite had no mind at the time to do it himself.
Michael took a deep shuddering breath, teeth clenched as he looked back into the root cavern. Was the marine considering fleeing? What for?
“Well, I’m guessing one of them got to Michael.” Lance said with a shrug.
Hoplite stared, first at Lance, then to Michael, who was now visibly shaking, his eyes averted from Hoplite.
Hoplite continued to stare for a long while before saying “Private, when we link back up with our forces, you will need to submit yourself for a medical examination.”
Michael blinked in surprise, looking back up to Hoplite in apparent confusion “That’s it?” He asked slowly, rubbing at his eyes “Kinda thought you’d say re-indoctrination… or worse.”
Hoplite shook his head “Negative. The incident will go unreported.”
Michael’s eyes widened further, his jaw working but failing to produce words.
Hoplite was confused as to why he wasn’t… furious. Michael had just… What was the proper term? Mated, with a foreign species and while mostly human in appearance, an elf was still inhuman. By every metric, Michael should be punished severely. For what Michael had done… re-indoctrination would have been the least harsh punishment Michael could have received for what he had done…
But Hoplite didn’t want to do that to Michael.
That was… that was the only reason. Hoplite nearly gasped in surprise at himself… what was happening? Where was his cold edge? He was really considering hiding what Michael had done from Terna… a serious crime in and of itself! It was his duty to report Michael’s crime, yes, but Hoplite could hardly bring himself to think about turning Michael in. Hoplite wanted to cover for Michael… why? He pondered the question for a long while before an answer invaded his mind, like a parasite that had wormed its way into his flesh by force.
Terna had fallen.
Hoplite’s skin again froze over. His eyes widening and his breath stilling. Lance and Michael had returned to bantering with one another, not realizing that Hoplite had gone still as a statue… though perhaps they were used to that.
Terna had fallen
Terna had fallen
Terna had fallen.
The words repeated themselves in his mind again, and again, as if they had been drilled into his skull by a re-doc. There was no point in reporting Michael, even if they linked back up with the crew of the Sparrow. What was the point? What would captain Stol even do? There could only be a handful of survivors from the Sparrow anyway… they couldn’t afford to punish Michael.
There was also the fact that Hoplite himself had committed a crime last night by getting intoxicated. Hoplite’s were not allowed to partake in such things, and doing so was grounds for re-indoctrination. Wouldn’t it be… hypocritical of him to report Michael when Hoplite didn’t intend on revealing what he himself had done last night?
He shut his eyes, and finally took a breath. A flurry of emotion raged within him, frustration, fear, and confusion all shifting in a chaotic dance as he tried to decide on a course of action.
Hoplite should report Michael and himself for intoxication and debauchery!
Who would carry out the punishment? Terna had fallen.
Captain Stol would find some way to punish them appropriately.
If he was even alive, and if Hoplite could even find him. Even if Stol was alive, who was to say the captain would care about the crime? Terna had fallen.
Stol wouldn’t just forgo the law because Terna was going through a rough patch.
Rough patch? The homeworld has been taken, along with all the inner colonies. The underdeveloped outer colonies were all that was left of Terna, and without contact with the core of the octopus, they’d eventually become lost, forming their own governments as all lost colonies did.
Terna is fallen.
“Sir?” Michael asked, his tone somewhat shaky “Are you alright?”
“We need to retrieve the equipment you dropped last night private.” Hoplite said, relief filling him as he remembered the lost ballistic mask. The immediate task that needed doing helped stave off the horrid thoughts that assailed him…
He would think more on what should be done about Michael and himself later, for now… they would focus on retrieving the mask from the root bowl.
Then, it would be back to the Fiendwall, no more delays.
…
…
…
“Geravall.” Lena said as she approached him “I managed to get some of the blood… just a small bit, beneath my fingernails, along with a fair few other samples just in case.”
Geravall looked up from his desk to stare at her, a dark eyebrow lifted quizzically. Geravall was Lena’s teacher in biology, his Doh-Ka able to see the makeup of the blood. ‘The twisting ladders of the blood’ he called it.
“From Hoplite? Why did you scratch him?” He asked her.
Lena’s face grew red and she shook her head.
“Not Hoplite, another outworlder man who accompanied him.” She told him “I’d rather not reveal how I got my samples, now, if you would just see the ladders of his blood-”
“I needed Hoplite’s blood, specifically Lena.” Geravall said “But a sample from another outworlder may just prove my theory anyhow. Hold up your fingers please.”
Lena obliged him, lifting her reddened nails for Geravall to inspect. Those bright green eyes of his stared for a long while before he finally settled back in his seat, a hand on his chin. Concerned eyes found Lena’s, and she could see the confusion in them.
“Hoplite certainly is an outworlder.” Geravall said “I did not lie to the Harkhall when I claimed that… but… There is a trace of something native to Ahkoolis in his blood. Not his human genetics, certainly… but the blood of Zodd flows within him as it does all life on Ahkoolis. Just a trace of it, but it is certainly there.”
Lena’s eyes widened a fraction at this discovery. The implications of this knowledge were mostly unknown to her, but Lena did realize its importance.
“Do you think he could be able to draw on Foundation?” She asked him, genuinely curious as to his answer.
“Just that small trace could make it so, but that is not my main focus.” Geravall told her weaving his fingers together to stare seemingly right through her “There was another trace of something in Hoplite’s blood that day, also native to our world. For a long while, I thought I had been imagining it.”
Lena kept silent, the next words Geravall uttering sending her into a panicked gasp.
“I’ve seen this strain of blood before, only once, but I would have never forgotten it. I believe Hoplite’s blood is… Draconic.” Geravall told her with a slight shudder.
Lena shook her head, wobbling on her feet as she stammered “A-a child of the P-Pillars unbound!?”
“No, the trace is too faint for that. I will need to find Terlin, wherever he has disappeared to, and access his library. I must do more research.” Geravall said, determination replacing the fear in his gaze.
Pillars save them all.
Comments
Noah Detloff
Great chapter as always
The art here was done by HankSpanky again, good stuff!
