Valendir

Edward grinned as the woman head back to the pilot chair and started to chat with their ‘captain’. “Oh, I could say plenty to that say you haven’t heard before, kitty cat,” he whispered before letting himself fall back in delightful lightheadedness. He hadn’t lost that much blood, but some of the acid had managed to make it into his bloodstream. It was nowhere concentrated enough to do any serious damage, but his immune system was creating quiet a buzz. Lovely.

“Better than those blue powders from the Grensto.” Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the downward decent, and eventually the landing. Smooth. Very smooth. Not as smooth as the Dawn. When was the last time he had felt the Dawn land? So long. Never. The ‘Dawn’ was a hovercraft. Hovercrafts didn’t land.

Chuckling, Edward opened his eyes and turned to the sound of kitty cat’s voice. Kit’s voice. Had the interior of this vessel always been green? “Yeah, a doctor sounds good.” With some help, he managed to get to his feet, leaning heavily on the woman as they moved towards the exit. “Nurse, I think it is time for my sponge bath.”

Lyla woke with the taste of blood in her mouth and Syril gone. Stunned, she blinked, until she remembered why she had been passed out. The jumper had killed the two soldiers, as evidenced by the two corpses, and then . . .

She glanced to her side, seeing the gaping hole in the floor, and panic began to rise in her throat. Syril was gone. She was too scared to look down into the floor, too scared to stay here, and too scared to go on. She had no protection at all.

She cried, something she had tried not to do since she was twelve, and curled up into a ball; crying because she knew she was useless. Vaguely, she heard the sound of Taldrin's voice calling for the group to come back. What should she do? She couldn't leave Syril if he was still alive, but she couldn't stay here.

She finally got up enough courage to look down into the hole. There was nothing there, and it was too far away for her to check if Syril was alright. Directly beneath her, blood glistened, and a chemical vat bubbled. There was nothing she could do. Rising shakily to her feet, she began to run towards the exit, stumbling and crying the entire time.

When she finally got back to Taldrin, she was exhausted, limping, and barely holding in her fear.

"Taldrin!" she yelled, the hysteria apparent in her voice. "You have to help Syril! He was fighting a jumper and he fell through the floor and now I can't find him! Please, you have to help him!"

* * * *

When the jumper had landed on top of him, Syril had not been expecting it, which added to his surprise. Normally, he would have anticipated an attack. Nonetheless, he was slammed into and fell through the floor, landing hard on a steel walkway below.

The acrid smell of the chemical vat below them stung his eyes, and made him want to close them, but he knew such a move would be fatal. The jumper stood a few feet away, looking murderous. Syril drew his bow and an arrow, fitted it to the string, and fired. The jumper ducked, the arrow ricocheting off the top of his helmet.

Syril drew two of his tantos, holding them tightly. He did not fear death, precisely, but he did not want to die here, at the hands of this creature. The words of Shade still rang in his ears. Ardan was alive. He had to live long enough to find his brother again.

Lightly, he sprang forward, his blades dancing. The jumper countered as many times as it could, but every once in a while, Syril would feel his blade bite flesh. But for every time he wounded the jumper, the jumper seemed to wound him back. The acid of its claws burned his flesh. Unless this ended soon, he would not last much longer.

The vat of chemicals below him gave him an idea. As the jumper lunged forward, Syril dropped and swept it's feet out from under him. While it was stunned, he lifted it and let it plunge into the vat below. He could hear its screams echoing in the room.

As he moved, he gasped and went down on one knee. He hadn't noticed before, but the jumper had raked its claws across his side, and now the acid was starting to eat away at him. He felt blood trickle down his side. The world was swaying in a very disconcerting manner, and he fell on his face the moment he tried to get up. He hoped that at least Lyla got away safely. She was a child, and he didn't like seeing children die.

He tried to sit up, but he was rewarded with a gush of blood from his side and a wave of nausea. He fell back down onto his back, feeling the harsh metal against his body. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ardan," he whispered. "I guess I won't get to fulfill our promise."

"Taldrin!" she yelled, the hysteria apparent in her voice. "You have to help Syril! He was fighting a jumper and he fell through the floor and now I can't find him! Please, you have to help him!"

His eyes widened, damn, he thought.

He knealt down in front of Lyla and lightly grabbed her for attention, "Lyla, I need you to be strong now, get on the transport, I'll get Syril," he stood back up, "you two follow me."

"Yes sir!"

They ran with haste towards the electrical room, they found two dead soldiers, one with a blade through his head, the other impaled against a pipe. He nearly fell down a hole, but when he looked through he found a body, it was a Trejan body.

"Syril! Hang on!" He turned to the soldiers, "we need to get him on the transport ASAP!"

They nodded in approval and rushed down to the lower level using the stairwell. One grabbed grabbed his legs and the other his arms, they started to lift him up and brought him outside. The soldiers delivered him to the medic transport.

"His condition is unstable, we need to get him to an ER, now."

The medic transport took off with Syril's body, while Taldrin, Lyla, and the crazy Palenxi took the transport towards Falchion Command. Taldrin looked at Lyla.

"How are you holding up?"

"How are you holding up?"

"How am I holding up?" She asked bitterly. "I almost got killed, almost got my only friend killed, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it! How do you think I'm holding up?"

She was practically screaming by now, but she didn't care. She just wanted to scream at something. Syril could have died protecting her, and she did nothing. Lyla knew it wasn't Taldrin's fault and he was just trying to comfort her, but right now she didn't want comfort.

She wanted to punch something, and did, her fist connecting with the hull of the ship, the tears coming down her cheeks.

"Everyone else seems to be able to fight. I can't, and Syril almost died," she muttered to herself.

She turned to Taldrin.

"Can you teach me how to fight?"

"How am I holding up?" She asked bitterly. "I almost got killed, almost got my only friend killed, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it! How do you think I'm holding up?"

Taldrin removed his helmet and placed it at his side, during the entire time he had his face straight. He'd seen this before, new rookies, straight from the academy, right into their first battle. They'd lost it, they saw their friends die, a sword impaling them in the gut. This was different though, she was no academy student, she wasn't a trainee, she was just a kid with a brilliant mind.

She punched the wall, getting the anger and frustration out of her. He got up and sat next to her.

"Everyone else seems to be able to fight. I can't, and Syril almost died," she muttered to herself, "Can you teach me how to fight?"

"Lyla, you have other skills, good skills, and you should be proud of those skills. Syril could have died today, but he didn't. You managed to save this city Lyla, you brought back the defense turrets, you repaired the electricity. You've also got your tan... umm, Archie."

After making sure Edward was safely taken care of by a medic (for all he was annoying, she did owe him her life. And it would be a shame if his pretty face had any permanent scars), Kit made her way back to the hangar. Mechanics were already swarming over her ship, assessing the damage with long, low whistles and patronising shakes of their heads.

Scowling, Kit stood at the end of the bay and waited to be noticed. When she wasn’t, she loudly and pointedly cleared her throat. One of the mechanics glanced over, then detached himself from the ship and walked across.

“Yes, miss? Can I help?”

“This is my ship,” Kit informed him unceremoniously, “And any and all repairs are to be done to my exact specifications and under my supervision.”

“Ah. I’ve heard of you,” the mechanic grinned greasily, dropping all pretence of politeness. “The difficult one. Picky. Heinous bitch, I believe Petar called you.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously. When she spoke, however, her tone was nothing but sweetness. “Did he now? Well if Petar knew the tail end of a ship from the bow I might care about his opinion. As it is, this is the best ship in the Galmoran fleet so if I am difficult or picky it’s only because I actually know what I’m doing and don’t want a substandard job.”

“Look, my boys are all competent --”

“Competent? That all?” Kit snorted lightly. “You have to be a lot more than competent to get your hands on my ship.”

The mechanic looked angry now, clearly not pleased at being taken down a notch by a female obviously several years his junior. Not to mention every one of his ‘boys’ had now stopped their work and were watching the confrontation with amusement. Some even appeared to be making bets.

Before he could reply, however, a shout came from behind them.

“Solange!”

Turning, Kit saw a uniformed soldier in the entranceway. He looked deadly serious, and she half expected to be told someone had died.

“You’re to report to the Strategem Hall for debriefing.”

“What? What about my ship!?” Kit called back, hands on hips and seriously displeased.

“The others will take care of it.”

Snarling a string of curses, Kit looked back at a rather smug mechanic. Without really thinking she grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face close to hers.

There were some alarmed shouts from his juniors, but Kit paid them no attention as she hissed, “Listen and listen good. My ship is the best there is. If she is not still so when I get back, you will be returning to your wife a eunuch. Got it?”

Without waiting for a reply she released him, then span on her heel and stormed angrily after the soldier.

Shade slumped back against the airship's wall during the flight back. The retreat had been much too sudden; much to deliberate. In fact, Shade considered the city to be losing when the demons decided to run. There was something more at work here; something larger.

Shade had counted forty-seven confirmed kills; and more wounded. His quiver still carried a dozen arrows; all of which had tasted the flesh of at least one enemy.

The technician, Lyria, was in a sort of hysteria. She was used to battle from the gun of a tank; not first-hand. And she clung to Taldrin now, wondering if he would teach her to fight. Interesting. If the girl was willing, and had the eyes and the coordination, she might learn to shoot. It would give her something to fall back on; give her more confidence of her usefulness in such situations.

Shade shrugged. If she addressed him, he'd make the offer.

As to his countryman, Syril, it seemed that he had taken some injuries, but he'd be fine. He was Trejan.

As they were stepping off the transport, it seemed their pilot was having difficulties with the technicians again. A lot of fire in that one...but Shade suspected that her loyalties lay not to the king or the defense of the realm, but to herself and her ship.

It would be something to watch for at least.

He had no need for guards to tell him or escort him; Shade made his way to Strategum Hall.

Sen lay on a bench aboard the airship, in wolf form, occupying two seats. The battle had gone sour rather quickly after he encountered the prisoners with the bombs. Sure, he defeated them, but things went all wrong after that. It seemed like every zombie, mage, and monster decided it was open season on him. He got swamped and quickly regretted having advanced toward the gate alone. He switched to wolf form and retreated to a safer distance, letting the bombs fall into Galrin hands and leaving the gate unguarded. There was little else he could've done. Had the enemy not retreated, the battle may have been lost. It didn't bode well.

Now he just lay there, like a tired old guard dog, his tail gently wagging. His fur was matted with blood, some of it his own, but none of the wounds were too serious. His swords were strapped to his back, but one of them was broken. He would need a new sword; probably two new swords, for the sake of symmetry. He looked like a battle-scarred mutt with one wing. Shameful, he thought of himself. But we'll do better next time, I'm sure of it.

A few things bothered him. The airship that picked them up wasn't the Celerity. He had seen the smoke trails over the northern wall and wondered what had become of Kit, Edward, and the ship. Also, Syril was absent and Lyla was in tears. He listened to her words closely, noting that she said her friend was 'almost' killed. That was a relief to hear. Syril was probably in a medical unit somewhere and would hopefully recover. Sen refused to consider that the Trejan might die. He refused to think of such a thing. To think of it is to lend it power and make it reality, he thought.

Now he just wanted to rest. He shut his eyes as the gentle swaying of the airship nearly rocked him to sleep. When they settled down, he disembarked, shook his fur, and stretched. His broken sword fell out of its holster, hitting the cobblestone with a heavy steel clatter. It was too damaged to stay in place, so he picked it up in his jaws and continued on toward the Stratagem Hall, a battered wolf with a broken sword between his teeth. To him, it was the walk of shame, but he kept his head held high in spite of it all.

"Lyla, you have other skills, good skills, and you should be proud of those skills. Syril could have died today, but he didn't. You managed to save this city Lyla, you brought back the defense turrets, you repaired the electricity. You've also got your tan... umm, Archie."

Lyla managed to smile at the captain, even though she was still miserable.

"His name's Artie, and don't you forget it."

As the ship landed, she pulled out one of her wrenches and smacked it against her palm, a habit she had when her mind was uneasy. She continued to do it the entire way to the Stratagem Hall, where she noticed the absence of Syril quite acutely. She wondered when she might be able to see him.

She spotted Sen, a broken sword between his teeth, and walked over to him. Kneeling down, she hugged the Reandir, careful to avoid the blade in his jaws.

"I need a hug, Sen."

“Touch me again, and you’re dead.” Edward gripped the chair more tightly as the group of physicians attempted to force him into a corner. The man responsible for this mess, a man in a white dress, a dress!, stood a few feet behind the line of man, leaning on a equally white staff. A freaking mage. The man was shaking his head, as if disappointed. If Edward had his guns, he would have given the man a bullet.

“Sir, if you would just lie down and let us take a look at your wounds, I am sure…” He was interrupted when one of the physicians stepped to close and got rewarded by Edward hitting him across the face with the metal inlaid chair. He was careful to make it a shallow swing, not hitting the neck. The man screamed as he went down. There was terror on the mage’s face. “Sir, what are you…”

“You unbuttoned my freaking blouse!” Edward took another swing at the remaining physicians. The one he had just knocked down was crawling away, leaving a satisfying trail of blood as he went. “No one unbuttons my blouse, unless she, she!, is half naked, or drunk!” He threw a dirty look at the mage. “You are not half naked, nor are you drunk. If you want to take a look at my wounds, go fetch yourself a well stacked blond.”

The man was moving his mouth, but no sound came. Shell shock. Edward had that effect on people. With a few wide swings, he managed to create and opening. Moment later, he was behind the mage and had a knife on the man’s throat. “Sorry ‘bout this old man. You’re just not cute enough to keep me in bed.” Panic had erupted around him, men calling for guards. Screw them. He was an emissary of the king. The guy that was supposed to land the finishing blow on the portal stone. He was very much untouchable.

He dragged the man towards a cupboard which held several jugs and small pots. Keeping the knife on the man’s throat with one hand, he used the other to ransack the supplies. Thyme, poison ivy, mint, wormwood, calamus… His hand stopped at a small container with a dark purple colored powder. Cliff weed, or ‘miracle dust’ as they referred to it. Rare. Expensive. A cure all, Edward knew. Well, only the best for this captain.

The mage sputtered in protest. An elbow in the face solved that problem. The guard that had just entered froze as Edward turned to him. “I am captain Edward Teach. I am part of Taldrin’s group.” The soldier blinked stupidly. “Eranir? The king’s man? Were you born this stupid?” More blinking. Edward was tired of this. He headed for the door, had a brief staring contest with the guard blocking his way, won, and walked out.

He found his weapons, both his dual flintlocks and the long rifle, in the next room. At least they had been taken care of. All geared up, he opened the container and dipped a wet finger into it. Sucking the deep purple dust of the finger, he started heading deeper into the building, looking for someone to escort him to the rest of his party.

"His name's Artie, and don't you forget it."

Taldrin returned Lyla's smile, "you have my word."

The entire group made their way towards the strategum hall, though not as laverish as the King's hall, it was still an amazing piece of Galmorian architecture.

Colonel Summers was the first to greet them, his armor was not as heavy as Taldrin's but it beared a higher rank to it and the Falchion seal of authority was imbued on his armor. His hair was standard military buzzcut, his left eye, going all the way to his ear was covered in a metal patch. Where his eye should of been was a crystalline photo receptor, and what seemed to lay beyond that was a blue light that moved along the length of the lense. Though the man was well aged with wrinkles and scars, his face showed the strength and determination of a wyvern.

"Ladies, gentleman," Summers nodded, "take your seats, except you Taldrin."

Taldrin stared at the man, "let me take a look at you Taldrin," he walked over.

Summers examined Taldrin, who didn't look intimidated by the man, his face slowly crinkled and he shook his head in disapprovement.

"You're still too damn soft soldier," Summers stated.

"At least we have a similarity there sir, the years have done well on you."

Summers chuckled, "get in your seat you crazy bastard."

"yes sir," Taldrin turned about, a grin on his face as he took a seat next to Rishi.

"Alright playtimes over kids, as you're well aware the Galrin attacked us and nearly destroyed us in the assault. At 1108 hours a flash of light was reported near the Gilmeny cliffs about a mile away from the city walls. Not five minutes later Galrin forces began to assault the city and completely surrouned it. After 6 hours of fighting all hope seemed lost, but you all showed up at the right time. However we knew that wouldn't be enough, and we thought we were done for."

He coughed for a moment before taking a rag and wiping his face.

"We were all set on evacuating the citizens, but at 1600 hours a mysterious black smoke swept over the city and all of the undead disappeared, not to mention, that any dead soldiers, prisoners, and civilians also disappeared in the smog. Just before the smoke though a second flash of light was also reported at the same location at the Gilmeny Cliffs."

"We've called in a re-armament to Galmora Command. They're sending in supplies and reinforcements along with workers to rebuild the city. We're also getting a couple new destroyers to hover around the city for a while, at least till we get things back in order."

He turned to Kit, "Ms. Solange, I gotta say that was a pretty stupid tact blowing up half the wall with that bomb, however under the circumstances as it were with those dark sages, you did the right thing, good job. Oh and uhh, under Taldrin's advice I've ordered all the engineers working on your airship to pack their bags and start reconstructing this city."

"So instead you'll have the pleasure to test one of our new devices developed here in our once fair city. I believe its called the Crystral Construction System, it... it'll help with rebuilding your ship, I don't know all the exact specifics, the senior tech assigned to help you through and give you the know how on it. His job is to monitor the progress of the device working on an object, a.k.a. your ship, and to record any and all data."

"Also any major components you require will by provided by the shipyard, and any specific devices you need will be provided by Falchion reserves, up to a 20,000 credit limit."

Kit leaned back in her seat, a dark scowl on her face as she waited to be debriefed so she could get back to her ship. If Taldrin and Summers had insisted on any more teasing banter she might just have gotten up and walked out, but as it was she managed to control her annoyance long enough for Summers to actually get down to business.

Despite her outer demeanour, once Summers began explaining the sequence of events that had led to Falchion being attacked the scowl vanished from Kit’s face to be replaced by a puzzled frown. Her first thought was that either the enemy was in possession of some new technology or had managed to use magic in such a way as to mask their forces movements, undetected by Falchion’s command. But then she remembered the original reason they had been on the way to Falchion, before they got sidetracked, and she began to wonder. A flash of light at Gilmeny Cliffs. Could it be …?

Her attention was snapped away when Summer addressed her directly.

“Miss Solange, I gotta say that was a pretty stupid tack blowing up half the wall with that bomb,” he began.

Kit’s eyes narrowed dangerously. She’d like to see how he would have reacted with three Jumpers tearing his ship apart and Dark Sages using it as target practice. At the very least she had waited until there were no other options before deploying the bombs.

“However,” Summer continued, “Under the circumstances, as it were, with those dark sages, you did the right thing, good job. Oh, and uhh, under Taldrin’s advice I’ve ordered all the engineers working on your airship to pack their bags and start reconstructing this city.”

That took her a little by surprise, and she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, she was free to execute repairs to her ship as she felt fit; on the other hand, she was only one mechanic and they had limited time. She had never heard of this ‘Crystal Construction System’, and if they were still recording data on how it worked then it was probably an experimental prototype. Though inclined to distrust prototypes in general, Kit realised she had very little option now and just hoped it would be effective.

But 20,000 credits … eyes gleaming, Kit looked like a satisfied cat as she began to imagine how she could improve her ship with that amount of money. The Celerity wouldn’t just be as good as new, she would be better.

As Summers began the briefing, Lyla listened with a mixture of concern and inattentiveness. She caught enough of the speech to determine that the events leading to Falchion's attack were not normal. While she knew she should be listening to such important news, she felt exhausted. Placing her head on her folded arms, she closed her eyes. Though she wasn't really listening anymore, she caught the fact that Kit's ship would need to be repaired. At this, her ears pricked up. This could be her chance to explore the workings of that ship.

She looked up. She had seen Kit's protectiveness of her ship, but still . . . . She wanted to get inside that ship!

Cautiously, she spoke up.

"Excuse me, Kit, but I was wondering if I could somehow help with your repairs. Your ship is one of the best I've run across, and I'd love to get her up and running again."

Kit’s blissful thoughts of engine upgrades, turbo boosters, increased computer functions and beautiful, shiny chrome were interrupted all too soon by a voice that while cautious, nevertheless contained suppressed excitement.

“Excuse me Kit, but I wondering if I could somehow help with your repairs. Your ship is one of the best I’ve run across, and I’d love to get her up and running again.”

Turning appraising eyes on the small, redheaded technician whose careful wording did not quite contain her eagerness, Kit considered. Her pride was suitably appealed to thanks to the compliment to her ship and twenty thousand credits’ worth of additions to her ship had put her in an extremely good mood, so she was not predisposed to immediately reject the girl’s plea. In fact, Lyla’s enthusiasm rather reminded her of herself as a young girl clambering all over the Galmoran hangar and more often that not getting herself into trouble because of it.

And she knew a little of Lyla’s reputation. A technician, specialising in tanks but more than able to adapt to other transports, and very hotheaded - Kit wondered idly if her temper would be a match for Kit’s own. And she was most notably referred to as ‘Boomgirl’ due to her rather odd fondness for explosions.

Finally, Kit came to a decision.

“All repairs are done under my supervision and to my exact specifications. You touch nothing without my permission and there are no changes I do not approve of. And if anything at all gets blown up, you are gone. If you can handle that, you can work on my ship.”

“All repairs are done under my supervision and to my exact specifications. You touch nothing without my permission and there are no changes I do not approve of. And if anything at all gets blown up, you are gone. If you can handle that, you can work on my ship.”

Lyla grinned and saluted.

"Yes ma'am!"

She would be able to work on the Celerity! She hoped she wouldn't mess anything up.

"Alright then, to come a conclusion to this debriefing," Summers began to speak, but before he could finish the doors opened up.

Four guards walked in with someone in a spherical contraption.

"Who the hell is this?!" Summers said angrily.

"We found him in the hallway 22B sir, put up quite the struggle, we got him in a stasis field though, he claimed to be with Captain Taldrin."

"You know this guy?" Summers asked Taldrin.

"Yep, this is the famous Capt. Edward," he said with a smirk on his face, he got himself up and walked over, "he's with me, you can let him go."

"Yes sir," the soldier released the stasis field and filed out of the room.

"You look like **** man," Taldrin looked him up and down, "weren't you supposed to be getting treated?"

His years in military service had taught him not to shoot superior officers, no matter how inferior they were. His position would protect him from civilians, in the rare occasion such protection was necessary, but superiors meant trouble. But despite the fact Edward possessed that pearl of wisdom, it took him an unusual amount of self control not to shoot this ‘Captain’.

“Treated, right.” Walking up to a nearby chair, somewhat limping after his encounter with the guards that had restrained him, he took out the bottle of cliff weed and rewarded himself with another fingertip of the purple dust. Settling in the chair was painful enough, yet he refused to give the gathered crowd the satisfaction of a groan.

“Well you know how it goes; you save an airship, you save a city, you save a maiden in distress,” the small wink at Kitty cat was hard to miss, “and in the end you get treated like you’re a villain because you refuse some magic-meddling guy to strip you down.” With the lack of a human ‘magic-meddling’ guys, he settled for the palenxi, giving them both a dirty look before returning his gaze to Taldrin. “Sir.”

“Well you know how it goes; you save an airship, you save a city, you save a maiden in distress,” the small wink at Kitty cat was hard to miss, “and in the end you get treated like you’re a villain because you refuse some magic-meddling guy to strip you down. Sir.”

Taldrin pinched his brow, "dammit you're as stubborn as they come," he looked back at Edward, "get yourself a healer, get yourself a doctor, I don't care if its an unlicensed pharmacist, but dammit man get yourself healed, you're no use to me in your current condition."

He sighed, "We're concluding the debriefing with the fact that we'll be staying here for a few days, everybody get some rest, get healed, get the ship fixed and we'll continue with the mission."

"Dismissed."

* * *

Act 1, Scene 4 - Regrouping

- its the next day
- help rebuild the city
- get healed
- repair the ship