V M The Voices...

[Victor Wolfe]

Another eventful year with the Abyss, Mr Karl certainly knew how to put on an excellent show to satiate even the most bloodthirsty of watchers and combatants, even if the assassins year did end prematurely due to a punk ninja and his magic sword of static stupidity. Still, he had gotten to snap that sweet young things neck before dumping her into the lava to burn, and that was intimidating enough of a scene to earn the respect of any Nippurian peasant.

The assassin sighed as he faced the portal, soon he would be back in the glorious city of gold and sand, where the people respected him and he could literally get away with murder if it so pleased him. He could even pay a visit to one of the many fine ladies in the town, or perhaps find some way to mess with that stuffy guard captain. He was a busy man as the Lord of Diplomacy for the Kingdom of New Babylon. Deals to make projects to organise, laws to write, and perhaps the occasional rebel to mutilate. The Abyss had been a welcome distraction but once again the nobleman found himself longing to feel the sand beneath his feet, and Gabriella on his lips.

As he stepped through the portal he braced himself for the burning air of the dunes, only to be met by a wind that chilled him to the bone. He knew that he had asked Erik to maybe work on some kind of air conditioning, but this seemed excessive even for his brilliant mind. As the eyes of the assassin scanned the horizon looking for any landmarks he had a distinct impression that this wasn't the Dunes. The Frozen Fields perhaps? Wondering if he had gotten on the wrong teleporter he looked around for a hint of where the gate would be, with his speed it would not be too hard to jog to it.

As he stepped forward, everything felt sluggish, like even if he where to run, it would feel no more than a brisk walk. Channelling his thoughts like he had so many times, aiming to burst forward, nothing, it would seem like the powers he had invested into had been once again taken from him. As he wondered about what sort of childish god had plucked him out of his comfy position as a third in command of a future empire the blond scanned the horizon, noticing caves and hollow crags that seemed to lead into an unsettling dark.

The biting cold was harsh, even with his assassins robes designed to help resist the more extreme weathers, it seemed that they were not enough. Feeling his fingers begin to lose feeling he knew if he did not find a source of heat soon, he would be losing more than just a few powers, and without proof of a healing factor, he could not risk the loss of his rather talented fingers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the glow of flame, so inviting, a natural ridge of rock creating an overhang that protected from the biting winds of this winter hellscape. It almost seemed to good to be true that on such an alien environment, there would be the familiar smell of meat cooking in the air. But there it was, a lone figure, clouded by the snow, stirring a pot over an open fire. It was no palace but to the assassin, it may as well have been.

Stalking towards the stranger, a primal hunger filling his eyes, his need for the heat of the flame the only thing driving him forward the assassin forgot to test out his stealth belt. The stranger's eyes lighting up, the inviting gaze relaxing whilst also unnerving the sociopath.

"Why have a seat stranger, nice to see a friendly, fit face around here, Don't get too many these days." The older gentleman had a long grey beard, miners overalls, a pickaxe against the wall, and red stains on his clothing. Victor assumed it was probably rust and that this man most likely mined iron for a living, perhaps the many crags allowed for a lot of underground mines, protected from the cold of the surface.

The warm embrace from the fire returned feeling to Victors numb extremities, and the smell of stewed pork bringing a growl to his stomach, noticing his hungry gaze at the pot, the old miner reached for a stone bowl, filling it with the stew, meat dripping off a section of elongated bone. It looked suspiciously familiar but the assassin didn't care, almost forgetting to chew as he wolfed it down.

The sweet flavour of the soft pork warmed the assassin to the core, sitting on a rather rust covered rock as he let out a satisfied yawn.

"Not from around these parts are ya stranger?" The old man chimed as he examined the lightly dressed assassin, a strangely friendly gaze on his face as he focused on Victor's arms, and chest for a little longer than he was comfortable with.

"That seems to be the case, my good sir, stepped through a portal, and I arrived here, must have been quite the trip as I don't feel anywhere near as powerful as I used to be, quite the hassle, could you tell me about this place? Who knows maybe there will be a way I can return the favour of a good meal" Wolfe chimed back as he relaxed. The old man pondered for a moment,

"Of course, always have to be the good Samaritan and help off-worlders, as for the favour, could you keep a close eye on what's left of the stew whilst I get this place organised? I wasn't expecting visitors" The old man gave a yellow-toothed grin, causing the assassin to smirk that he was getting off so easy. Scooting forward he grasped at the large ladle, stirring the meat and bones in the bubbling liquid.

"Well, this planet is known as Inverxe, lucky you found me, lots a dangerous critters around these parts. Although a lot of them tend to stick more to the caves, good loot down there if you are willing to risk it though. A soft boy like yourself though, you are probably best stickin to the warmth of this here fire." The old man explained, the last comment offended Vic a lot, but he was eating the man's food in this barren wasteland of ice and death so he felt that biting his tongue was for the best.

"So where you one of the people brave enough to go into the caravans? Looking for metals to mine old man?" Victor questioned as he heard the pensioner shuffling around behind him, the sound of metal being moved.

"A long time ago, when I was a younger man, though we had struck gold, a huge vein of valuable metals. But as soon as we struck it, the entrance collapsed behind us, we tried to dig out but nothing seemed to work, the owner of the mine wanted us to keep digging, saying we would be rescued in a few days so may as well get his gold out. We ran out of food" The older gentleman let out a sigh, clearly, this was not a happy story. Still, it was one that Victor knew all too well especially around the coal mines required for the industrialisation of his native empire. Many miners revolts had to be crushed at his own hand after all.

"Then the whispering started, slowly creeping into the dreams in our short sleep shifts. Then it started in the day until it turned to talk, demands that we do something, they told us that the owner was going to work us to death then escape with all the gold to not pay us, that he had food stashed away, and that we needed to survive. Eventually, it got too much and one of us aimed a pick into the back of his head. There was no food, but the voices died down, and we could rest and play cards, we thought it was just loss of sleep and with more rest, they would stop."

Victor listened to the story of the desperate miner it sounded like there may have been some gas leak in the mine from their work, or maybe just hallucinations from exhaustion, understandable, but he could tell the story was not finished yet, this intrigued the assassin as he heard more shuffling.

"Then we grew hungry, arguments began to break out, but we remained hopeful that rescue would come. Then the voices returned. They told us that we had to dispose of the evidence and that the owner was stashing away food, in his plump body. We didn't want to hear the voices screaming again, that unholy evil, so we listened, the owner lasted us a few days, and his flesh gave us sweet life. The lord raised an eyebrow, Cannibalism was taboo in most societies but given the situation it seemed like something that they had to resort to, he did wonder where this story was going and was eager to hear more of these peoples fall from grace.

"The voices kept coming back louder and louder, the next time it told us that the next that needed to die and give the rest of us life was Jimmy, the man who swung the pick and ate the first bite of the owner, the voices told all of us excluding Jimmy that he was a murderer, and would probably do the same again. We had to get him first, so when he was drinking from an underground spring, we knocked him out. We wanted to kill him but the voices told us he would taste better alive. We boiled him using the coal as fuel, like a lobster." The old man was almost sobbing now. He continued the story, each death becoming more graphics, and ritualistic. The madness of the rock seeping into their souls until by the end of the story the old fellow was the last man alive.

"So how did you get out of the mine?" The Diplomats interest was peaked

"Oh some people from a nearby town picked me up, and took me to their village, it was the craziest thing, you see they say the entrance to the cave was never sealed when they arrived, and all they found where some flesh stripped skeletons, and me, as well as some mined fools gold. They tried to help me and things where good" This caused Victor to chuckle.

"Well that is as good an ending, what are you doing out here then? Looking for some metals for the village?" he wondered if he could also get in good with these helpful idiots, they may even be willing to help get him set up for the challenges of this planet.

"well you see it did go well for a while, but I couldn't let it go, the voices followed me, and one day when I was left alone to guard the infants, one of them... fell into the boiling pot. They wanted to execute me so I fled,"The assassin's eyes widened, he suddenly recognised the shapes of the bones in the soup, a femur here, vertebrae there. This wasn't pork. And the red that coated Victor's makeshift seat and the miner's garb was not from an iron mine.

Rolling just at the right moment the assassin heard a clash as the stone he was sitting on crashed with the head of the pickaxe. The miner now had a crazed and frustrated look in his eyes as tears welled up in them, he lunged forward with another inaccurate swing.

"Please, sir! Don't struggle, the voices! The voices! They demand your blood, please let them stop!" He sobbed as he continued to swing. The assassin was pretty certain that with his reduced powers a hit from the sharp metal tip of the pickaxe would likely finish him in this cold.

But he knew he had to do something, remembering his training he waited for his opponent to perform a side swing, the heavy pickaxe dragged his arms in a wider arc than he would have liked allowing the assassin the opening he needed. He planned on getting in on the bigger swings and cutting lightly to bleed the miner out. His first light swing connected with his abdomen. And suddenly the wild swinging, the pleading, even the tears seemed to stop.

A red line formed across the old man's entire abdomen, as the top half of his body fell backwards, the legs staying before landing on top of the rest. Victor looked stunned at his blades, apparently, what he had lost in some areas, this world had more than provided in others, very carefully he returned them to their sheaths, fear that they would cut right through and slice his legs off a humorous but very real concern.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund trudged through the frozen wastes undaunted, trying his hardest to ignore the piercing chill of Inverxe.

“I could probably… Find some breach crystals… some… where...” Sigmund said, pulling his cloak tighter over his body. Even as he pulled the warm cowl closer, his fingers struggled to hold onto the material.

“Okay… I can't… Keep going… Like this…” The cultist gasped. The freezing priest shivered violently as he opened his tome, attempting to flick through the pages with trembling fingers. It took a grand effort for Sigmund to struggle over to the page he was searching for, but he arrived at it nonetheless.

“Blessed father Varmnn…” Sigmund chanted, the invocation alone restoring a little warmth to his body. “Grant me your divine ember, and shield your faithful priest from both the biting chill and the searing heat. Varmnn elda sherggha ith!”

The biting cold that had wrapped Sigmund in its brutal embrace had suddenly vanished, washed away by a pleasant warmth that rapidly enveloped the cultist. He let out a relieved sigh as feeling returned to his limb, allowing his mind to drift back to more pressing matters.

“Now, where was I?” Sigmund said, closing his tome. “Ah, that's right, civilisation!” The cultist hoped it didn't take too much longer to find some people. The barren landscape, while its existence was fascinating, could only keep Sigmund interested for so long. Even if he couldn't find some other people, the priest hoped he found something interesting to break up the monotony at the very least.

Sigmund was beginning to lapse in concentration, his thoughts drifting elsewhere, when he spotted a pinpoint of light set against an overhang in the distance. It wasn't much, barely a spark from the cultist’s perspective, but the spark was enough to ignite a blaze of hope in him. The priest picked up his pace slightly, eagerly marching towards the source of the light, curiosity gnawing at him.

As the light grew closer, Sigmund was steadily able to pick out more details of the scene before him. There was a lone man sitting in front of a campfire, an upturned pot cast aside from the fire. Next to where the pot laid, there were two halves of a bisected body. Despite the brutal injuries that had been dealt to the corpse, the man still sitting at the fire carried no visible weapons of a massive caliber.

The familiar burning of curiosity suddenly emerged within Sigmund’s stomach, urging the cultist forward despite the obvious potential for danger. The priest clutched his tome tighter as he increased his pace again, keeping in mind that self-defense may be necessary. As he drew closer to the scene, a faint scent wafted toward him from the camp. It was weak, likely from something that had been cooking not too long ago, but it took a few moments for Sigmund to realise what he was smelling. Burnt human flesh.

“How gristly.” The cultist said, his smile widening even as he spoke. This was quickly turning into a veritable mystery. Only the man at the fire knew what had happened here, but Sigmund would find out. The cultist decided to investigate the corpse and the pot first, conscious that the man at the fire might try to scare him off or, gods forbid, destroy any evidence.

Sigmund took a peek into the pot first. The simple metal cauldron had been tossed to the ground without a care, perhaps in disgust, or simply out of laziness. Despite how morbid the idea of a human meal was, the priest was more interested in the body next to the pot. Sigmund examined the corpse’s face, noting the traces of foam around his mouth and the familiarly manic look in his eye. Something had clearly driven the man mad before he was cut down. The wound that had split him in twain, however, was especially peculiar. It was one clean cut, running the entire way through his midsection. Whatever had happened, it was quick. Before Sigmund’s investigation could be finished, however, he was interrupted by a shout from the man at the fire.

“Hey!” The man shouted.

“Ah, I thought I was being stealthy…” Sigmund thought as he slowly rose to his feet. He berated himself a little for putting himself in this situation. In his fascination with the body, he had put the fire, and the man sitting at it, to his back. The cultist slowly opened his tome but prepared to talk it out with the man, assuring himself that he had every situation covered. As it turned out, he was wrong.

“Erik?” The man called, recognition audible in his voice. Sigmund froze, unsure of what to do for a few moments. Did he mean..? Snapping out of his confusion, the cultist slowly turned around to face the man, a question forming on his lips.

“How do you know my father?” Sigmund said, his blue eyes locking with the strange red eyes of Victor Wolfe.

 

[Victor Wolfe]

The ravenous hunger that consumed the assassin never seemed to stop. skipping the pot he simply allowed meat from the miner's corpse to cook on the open fire. As the chared flesh entered his drooling maw it almost seemed to disappear into the abyss of his stomach, he had seen royalty at banquets eating through meals that could feed a family of ten. But this was a different kind of hunger, not of gluttony, but one of addiction, the feeling of the meat hitting his tongue like a drug entering his veins, the high disappearing every time he attempted to see reason.

He felt weak, for the first time since he managed to escape the controlling hand of his former imperial home. At least no one was around to see this loss of reason and giving in to baser animalistic drives, or so the assassin thought. Hearing the crunch of snow being crushed underfoot the former lord turned from his makeshift meal. noticing a new figure examining his handiwork. Luckily for Victor, it seemed that the young gentleman's attention was mostly drawn to the large horizontal cut that had sliced the pensioner into two, not even noticing that some of the other body parts had been picked down to the bone.

Well, isn't that just great, a plucky damn explorer just so happens to find this little hideaway, and is now sniffing around my food like a mutt begging for scraps. Victor grinned, his back still turned. This person didn't seem deranged or even particularly hungry, more endlessly curious, almost reminded the Lord of someone he knew, but who? Oh well, it's a real shame as he does seem like such a handsome young lad, but we can't be having witnesses at my lowest point committing what some people here might see as an ultimate and unforgivable taboo. Sad for him, but if we keep it up at this rate then within a week I might have enough food refrigerated to last me until the godforsaken winter ends. Victor smirked madly as a hand reached to his side, his trusty blade never far from reach still stained with blood from its last kill. The assassin was ready to pounce he announced himself, trying to catch the boy off guard making it easy to throw him off balance and slit his throat after all the kid didn't deserve torture for his curiosity. As the boy turned Victor stopped himself, something snapping back into place in his apparently quite damaged psyche. "Erik?" He questioned, surprise on both men's faces as he asked: "how do you know my father?"

Victor leaned back, a hearty chuckle filling his gut, this was too good to be true, it had seemed that Lord Gilgamesh's blessing had extended to even this barren hellscape. For even if the world, its environment, and it's weird but persuasive homicidal mines where totally alien to the assassin, it would seem that there was indeed some familiarity to grip onto, a rock of stability to regain some sense of grounded sanity. Or at least what was sane for a Wolfe. A Vrell, not the prefered cute former Babylonian, but the resemblance was uncanny, the brown hair, the frame, the clothing. Although it was going to take some getting used to that there was a Vrell that could show more emotion than mild annoyance, was it an improvement? Time would tell, but Victor knew that he was not letting this one go.

"A Vrell eh? Well I will be a squids uncle, of all my former comrades to have children Erik was near the bottom of the list, only really above his majesty Gilgamesh, after all, if any cheap harlot even tried to lay their hands on his magnificent body I would have had to make sure they could never try that again." Victor had now fully returned to his normal self a slightly sadistic grin returning to his face as he leaned back, far more comfortable with his new environment now that the greatest of comforts possible had arrived. Snapping back to the conversation he mocked raising a glass in a toast.

"Your father was one of the greatest men I ever knew, my sub... no, my comrade in arms, a true Babylonian to the core, oh the stories I could tell about our days in the battle of Nippur, working together to bring the joy of southern twang and cheesy music to the airways of the streets of Nippur, and occasionally overloading his mind with porn whenever he attempted to read it..." Victor noticed a look of confusion on Sigmund's face as the assassin rattled on about the adventures with his former companion.

"Although judging by the expression on your face it would seem that you have no idea what I am talking about, so either my good friend Erik has hidden an entire section of his life from you, including the unforgettable presence that is me, and I will need to have a very stern talking to him about why that is a bad thing to do. Or Perhaps the Erik I knew... was merely a reflection. An image grabbed like an idea in someone's mind put to a story with others from their own universes? This Omni being making copies of ideas that he took a fondness too, any people who displayed interesting characteristics, and threw them together just to see what would happen." Victor began to paint together ideas on the wall, stick figure drawings of all the NB members and events in order, how he had ended up in the world.

"FUCK! I think that my entire existence has been a lie and that the last dimension I was in was like a giant interdimensional fanfiction dreamed up by a child of a god, with Omnilium being the ink on the page that wrote everything? Am I real? Does my pain exist? Did Erik matter? HUH, does Gilgamesh even matter? Does Okor ma... Ok who am I kidding, Okor never mattered. But really am I only a thought grabbed by a sadistic god and forced to move to their whims and entertainment?" The assassins ramblings seemed to turn more and more frantic, his worry over if he could simply be erased from time and space at someone's whim as if he never mattered, merely a thought put to the back of someone's mind.

"No, NO!" He finally got a grip of himself "I may have started as a pawn in some sick divine beings game, but when have I ever played the pawn, I doubt even the gods that put me in any of their worlds have ever been able to fully comprehend just what I would do at any given time. So what if I was just a copy of some other Victor from the past, with all I have done, experiences and achieved, we are different people, we share a past and a name, everything else is all me. So yes, whilst that Erik, Gilgamesh, Sasuke, Shantotto, Ahana, and all my other brothers and sisters in arms may simply be gone, they mattered. Because I am here, and they all left their mark. " Victor patted himself on the back finishing his cave painting with a giant "YES!"

Turning to Sigmund who still didn't seem to know how to process what was going on in front of his eyes Victor beamed a smile at him. " It would seem that I met a copy of your father, one around your age actually boy, and the great thing I realised is that even though the version I met may have just been a clone, and there may have been another version in this universe, my Erik does still exist, he exists in my thoughts, so long as I can think my friends are never gone, and that is just wonderful" The assassin had turned from frantic existential dread to hope in space of around a minute, and much like his father the cultist had seemed taken aback.

"I am glad that you know you exist?" The cultists shrugged.

"Oh this is wonderful, who knows what other alternate versions of my friends I will meet, a healing Ahana? A female Uchiha? An unapologetically gay Gilgamesh" Victor whispered "Oh Omni please yes" under his breath at the last one. "But before we go looking for other people how about we get to know each other, after all, I am pretty much an uncle to you"

"Really an uncle? But we have never met" Sigmund replied smugly

"God, you sound like my lover and child. But anyway, I am Lord Victor Wolfe of the probably non-existent city of Nippur, Head Diplomat to the crown, banisher, protector of the throne, the voice of the king, veteran of the battle of Nippur, voted the sexiest man in the dunes on two separate occasions and good friend to your father or at least a clone of him, how do you do?" The assassin took a seat signalling for the kid to do the same.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund watched intently as the man before him had a minor existential crisis, rambling about another world and the possible non-existence of him and his friends. Fascinatingly, Sigmund’s father was counted among that number. How curious. The cultist himself had never found himself dwelling on existentialism. ‘I think, therefore I am.’ And all that, but he couldn't fault others for feeling the dread. To Sigmund’s pleasant surprise, the assassin came to much the same conclusion as him. Perhaps he was more philosophical than he appeared.

“Sigmund Vrell,” The priest said, bowing slightly towards Victor Wolfe, “It’s a pleasure... Uncle Victor?”

The curiosity burned in the cultist as his mind raced. This man knew a younger version of his father. Not only that, but there was a whole world of people which may or may not have existed! The name ‘Nippur’ came up a number of times, which rang no bells in Sigmund’s mind.

“What’s Nippur?” The priest asked curiously, cocking his head to the side slightly. “And why were people battling for it?”

“Ah, Nippur.” Victor said, a pained expression flitting across his face briefly. “Nippur is… Was the capital of New Babylon, the kingdom of the great Gilgamesh. Your father was a devoted follower of the King, and one of my finest underlings.”

Sigmund raised an eyebrow at this. His father didn't seem the type to follow a King, let alone be someone's underling. Perhaps he was more subordinate when he was younger, or perhaps this King Gilgamesh was simply a magnificent man. Maybe even both.

“Enough about me.” Victor said. “Let's talk about you. Tell me about yourself.”

The cultist ‘hmm’ed’ for a moment, stroking his chin as he thought about what the assassin would find interesting.

“Well, I'm Sigmund Vrell, high scholar of the mindbreakers. Not to brag, but I know almost everything there is to know about the otherworldly. I also help my older sisters lead troops when we go to war.”

“Sisters? Plural?” Victor said incredulously. “Slow down, I’m still trying to process Erik having one kid!”

Sigmund was confused for a moment before Wolfe’s ‘sexiest man in the dunes’ comment from earlier came to mind. It would seem that this other world was less… Disciplined than Sigmund’s own. The cultist chuckled lightly, amused by the different world views.

“Abstinence only lasts until marriage.” Sigmund said. “We'd be extinct if none of us had children.”

“Ah, so you weren't grown in a lab, then.” Victor said, smiling slightly as he crossed his arms. “Tell me about your mother, I have to hear about the girl who could snare Erik.”

“Mother?” Sigmund said, calling up the memories. “Morgana Vrell, daughter of another noble family who married into the ours. She didn't fight much, but was a brilliant politician, strategist, priestess and scholar. She worked with father to bring the cultists together to conquer the rogue mage-states. ‘It's like herding ghouls’ she used to say, but she knew it was worth it to get rid of that thorn in our collective sides.”

The cultists eyes shone as he recalled the memories of his parents.

“I'm a little jealous.” Victor joked, smirking slightly.

“I… Of mother or father?” Sigmund asked, only to receive a shrug and another smirk from the assassin. “You know, father’s proposal was awfully romantic.”

“Really?” Victor said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I have got to hear this.”

“A group of rogue mages insulted mother publicly. They said she was a weak-willed atheist who just stayed in the order because she liked having servants. When father heard, he gathered his troops, captured all of the filthy mages, and killed each one of them in single combat as a declaration of his devotion.” The priest said wistfully.

“Ah. That's the Erik I know and love.” Victor said.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know about him some other time.” Sigmund said, adjusting his cloak. “Back to the present, what happened there?”

The cultist motioned towards the two halves of the nearby corpse.

“Oh, it was nothing. Just a crazy baby-eater screaming about ‘the voices’ telling him to kill or something.” Victor said, dismissing the point before breaking into a grin. “My daggers hit a lot harder than they used to, though.”

Sigmund nodded slowly in response. So hearing voices sent him on a murderous rampage? That was a little… Disappointing. The cultist was hoping for something a little more exotic to have occurred. Gods, even Sigmund himself heard voices sometimes. They didn't usually tell him to kill, though. They were usually just elder-tongue ramblings about the space between worlds and the occasional prophecy. If only it was easy to tell the two apart.

“Right… Well, what are you going to do next? I was planning on just wandering until I found some people.” The priest said. “I think I could use something a bit more efficient, though. I'd rather not starve to death and cannibalism is a sin, so…”

 

[Victor Wolfe]

Victor pondered for a moment, Sigmund, much like his father had brought up a good logical point, and just like in the good old days it was up to Victor to follow the logic, or completely substitute it with his own. Looking at the mess of blood-stained snow and human cadavers, a slight tinge of disgust filling the pit that was the assassin's stomach he decided to agree with his new friend.

"Well, I must agree that wandering is probably not the best of ideas. It would be such a shame if your pretty little face was to be eaten by the savage beasts, or natives that happen to hunt in this tundra. At least from what I have been told." The assassin looked out from the rocky outcrop, the large rocky mountains in the distance oldy bare of snow. An idea sprung to his mind as he scanned the horizon. "Well, judging by the lack of snow on their peaks and the slight hint of greenery, I would assume that those mountains are Volcanic." Victor stood up, pacing around the makeshift cave as he pieced together a plan of action.

"I think that, rather than what logic would normally dictate, if we are looking for settlements then we should probably head towards the fire mountains." He said with a satisfied smirk, turning to Sigmund, who didn't seem to be as big a fan of heading towards a possibly very active volcano.

"Are you sure that is a good idea? What if they erupt? Do you have a death wish?" He questioned, wondering just how insane the man in front of him was.

"Well I have been known to die occasionally but that usually isn't of my own volition so not really a death wish. Think about it though, this loose snow is awful for trying to secure a regular food source, no farming, no large common game we can see. But as this deranged gentlemen had informed me there are human villages on this celestial body." Victor started to once again create a diagram on an empty section of wall, using the blood of the miner as paint, like a teacher expanding on his logic.

"For you see my dear nephew, I think that given how harsh of an environment the tundra is that the human population would likely try to stay near the mountains. Their rocky surface would make the predators camouflaged for tundra like stand out and easy to spot. And all that volcanic activity would regularly bring up nutrients from the earth. and leave spots of very rich farmland. Mineral water and hot springs would also be within easy access, so if we assume that some of these volcanoes do not have large explosive eruptions, but instead, more easy to predict lava flows, perhaps even seasonally. Given the ingenuity of the occasional brilliant mind that us humans seem to produce from time to time. They could make a pretty decent situation out of the adversity of the elements. " The lord finished his diagram, turning the frowny faces of "the masses" into smiling ones around the volcano.

"in simple terms, people tend to be dumb in a mass, but the odds are that at some point a clever person would have noticed how advantageous a village on a mountain would be over on flat ground with unseen predators everywhere." As he looked around the cave the assassin started to rifle through the miner's pockets, finding nothing of any note, other than a neckless of some rather tiny teeth, causing Victor to roll his eyes and throw them away. Horrors of this fallen murders tales to forever be lost in the snow.

"Well, it looks like we are taking only what we have with us. Useless to the very end this cannibal scum was, But that is fine, I am sure that if you are anything like your father we will have no problems making it to the mountains."

The pair set off on their journey across the snow, the large red mountain ominously looming in their view, all of their natural instincts telling the pair that this gargantuan being of fire and rock should be feared and that they should be heading as far in the opposite direction as possible being ignored, on the assassins hunch.

The pair exchanged small talk as they walked, luckily it had seemed that the weather was calm, no blizzard or biting winds, progress through the deeper snow easier than the walk to the cave had been when Victor had first arrived.

"Not at all surprised to hear about your mother's personality." The former lord announced, thinking of a topic to distract them from the long walk.

"Oh? And what makes you say that?" Sigmund asked curiously, clearly wondering just how his father had been at a younger age.

"Well whilst of the Nippurian Elite your father was certainly brilliant of mind and blade. He was by far the most passive of us, He didn't have the drive for revenge that Sasuke had, the lust for power of Gilgamesh, or the burning ambition for political manoeuvring I had. He just wanted to serve the King and do research to gain information. Its why one of my many plans was simple, have your father promoted to a Lord at my recommendation." Victor grinned, the talk of Nippurian Court intrigue warming him to his core.

"That is quite the nice thing to give up a subordinate and put him on the same level as you. You must have really liked him" Sigmund also smiled.

"Well I did, but that wasn't the only reason for it." The Nippurian sighed.

"You see with only two lords, it meant that any decision that came down to the lord level could end up in a political deadlock and have to be decided by the King. This actually meant unless both of us agreed on an issue we didn't really have as much power on deciding it as I would have liked. So if there was a third lord, one who didn't really care for all the politics involved, and he felt like I had given him a lot of that power, then not only would we have a tie-breaking vote. But one that is more likely to side with my way. Putting the diplomatic branch of Nippurian politics, above the military branch in political clout." He chuckled as he remembered the huge list of laws and future projects that he had planned to help implement to improve the efficiency of their still struggling desert kingdom.

"And then as usual when things seem to be going well forces from beyond my control come along and mess it all up. Be it the battle of Nippur, the super prime that wiped the floor with us, a damn rodent embarrassing our guards, or shadow organisations trying to control all the industry. Things never really ever seem to go the way I plan." He let out a half-hearted chuckle before stopping, something didn't seem right. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted another cave, this one leading down into the ground, black webbing sticking to the walls of its entrance. Reaching out an arm Victor stopped his companion from taking another step.

"What is it?" Sigmund questioned, wondering if this was just another one of his "uncles" quirky moments. Leaning down to the snow Victor carefully parted it with his daggers, about two feet in front of them, the webbing from the cave entrance continued. Moving around and digging up more snow with his blade the organic web seemed to form a near perfect circle around the cave entrance. It was curious, it didn't seem to be made of fibre or silk, and had the blackish sheen of oil. Whatever it was Victor was pretty sure that stepping on it would be a bad idea. The reflection of the purple orb in the sky giving it an unearthly glow.

The pair heard the crunching of snow, something much heavier than any person was coming, from the entrance to another one of the many tunnels and caves that seemed to cover the planet came a beast. It resembled a cross between a giant gorilla, and a bear, with the horns of a goat on the side of its head. White shaggy fur occasionally stained with what the assassin recognised as blood. The creature coming out of its cave raised its head, sniffing the air. The scent of spilt blood heavy in the air its large black eyes focused on the source of the scent, diluted crimson drool leaking from its mouth. The twelve-foot tall bipeds eyes hungrily stared at the pair. taking steps towards them, hunger the only thing on its mind.

Sigmund seemed prepared to cast some sort of spell as the beast began to pick up pace towards the pair. Victor, however, wanted to test out his theory. As the giant lamb from hell strutted towards the pair, the smell of the corpse behind them, as well as the prospect of two more morsels to store away in his cave for later drove him onwards, it seemed to forget its surroundings.

As the monster's feet crossed over the line that Vic had predicted the black webbing started, they felt a rumbling from the cave. out from the darkness emerged a pack of creatures, their bodies looking both biological and mechanical, a hard exoskeleton covered in a thick goo, drool dripping from their teeth as they hissed. Their tails long and whip-like, with a spear, shaped tips. Their jet black forms standing out in the snow.

One of the dome-headed creatures rushed towards the white giant. who managed to grab it out of the air as it leapt. The Alien looking creature having its body crushed under the powerful grip of the snow ape. Curiously though as the creatures green blood started to leak from its body, the giants seemed to yell out in pain. A closer look revealed large patches of fur and skin being melted away. The starving whampa seemed to realise how much trouble it was in as five more of the seven-foot-tall xenomorphs stalked towards their prey. And in that moment of hesitation, they pounced.

Pushing the creature over the pack stabbed at its limbs with what appeared to be a second mouth aimed at the joints in the arms after a few quick thrusts the struggling started to subside. Whilst the heads aimed at disabling the beasts arms the razor sharp tails stabbed at its legs, and after what seemed to be a few minutes the pack of eyeless hunters leapt off their prey. It was curious as they seemed to be so close to dealing the killing blow, but there the whampa was, left alive but immobile.

This seemed strange until a group of smaller creatures, from what Victor assumed was the same species, about a foot shorter and their skin a lighter shade of brown arrived in numbers, each one grasping onto the helpless whampa as it was slowly dragged into the cave to whatever fate they had planned for it. The larger xenomorphs standing guard over the smaller, until they too disappeared into the underground.

It all seemed to fit together, the black creatures were warriors, the ones that deal with threats and guard the smaller ones, who act as the drones and do the heavy lifting. The way one of the warriors so carelessly charged suggested a hive mind, with very little individual instinct for survival. And the webbing most likely released some kind of pheromone, that would stick to whatever passed it, giving the blind creatures a very good mental picture of the world outside their nest, and probably allowing the leader or queen of the hive to keep an eye on everything around them at once.

The pair agreed that going around the webbing was probably the best idea as neither one of them really wanted a direct confrontation with a hive of seven foot tall acidic blooded super predators. They continued their journey in silence, both trying to process what they had just seen, Victor was almost certain that he would like to find a way to tame or control these creatures in the future. Truly one of natures marvels, a perfect predator for the cave environments.

Reaching the base of the volcano it had seemed that Victor's hunch had been right, they spotted some structures further up the rocks, that seemed to have been used and lived in recently, the pair nodded to each other as they made their ascent towards whatever counted for civilisation on this deadly wasteland of a planet.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund strode, almost skipped, besides Victor as they trekked through the frozen wastes, humming a quiet, jaunty tune to himself as he listened idly to the assassin’s comments. He rambled on about lords, primes, rodents(?) and politics, which was simultaneously fascinating and bizarre. What stuck out to the cultist was Victor’s talk of political maneuvering. He wanted father to be a lord, but chose him because he would side with the assassin?

Sigmund was uncertain how he felt about this information. On one hand, it did seem to be grounded in respect, at least partially. On the other hand, it did sound an awful lot like manipulation. Mother had always handled the politics while father fought, but there was never any doubt that she had their best interests in mind. Sigmund decided to brush the intrusive thoughts aside, believing that ‘uncle’ Victor had pure intentions.

The cultist was brought to a sudden halt by his assassin companion, peeking over the much taller man’s hand to see what was happening. A strange white beast was lumbering towards them, causing Sigmund’s heart to race. The priest opened his book eagerly, praising the gods as he prepared his eldritch assault. Before he had the chance to strike, however, a number of black carapaced creatures erupted from the ground and made quick work of the beast.

Victor urged his ‘nephew’ along, skirting around the strange black webbing that the creatures emerged from. Sigmund followed slowly, fascinated by the creatures and their odd webbing. A burning desire struck into the scholar, urging him to touch the webbing, to summon back the creatures, to dissect the inner mechanisms of their behaviour, but a call from Victor snapped him out of it. Sigmund jogged over to the assassin, coming back to his side as they drew closer to the volcano. Maybe not today, but he would figure out those strange, alien creatures some day.

The ascent was slow but steady, gradually getting steeper as the pair got higher and higher. Victor seemed to take the hike fairly well, but the unathletic Sigmund quickly began to struggle as he rose up the mountain.

“You alright?” Victor asked, cocking his head slightly as Sigmund hefted himself unsteadily up and over a ledge.

“Athleticism is, huff, not my greatest strength.” The cultist replied shakily. “But one cannot improve if they don't practice, no?”

“Huh, Erik was pretty in shape.” Victor said, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “I figured all of you cultists would be decently fit.”

“I must admit, huff, that father and my sisters, huff, have greater endurance than I do.” Sigmund panted as he threw himself up another boulder. “Unless we’re talking about carrying books to and from the library.”

Victor simply responded with a chuckle as the pair continued their ascent. After what seemed like an eternity to Sigmund, they reached the structures they had spotted earlier. Compared to the view from the ground, the structures were… Underwhelming up close. They were little more than sheets of corrugated steel stacked against each other, occasionally welded together but mostly held in place by rope and prayers. They were set in a loose semi-circle around the only building in the ‘village’ which seemed to be properly constructed, a hut-like structure built into the face of the mountain itself.

“Who’s there?” A gruff voice commanded, followed shortly by a heavy-set man in mining gear emerging from one of the structures, rusted rifle in hand. Sigmund opened his mouth to respond but Victor responded faster.

“Sorry, we’re new here, and we were just looking for shelter.” The assassin said, raising his hands submissively. The cultist didn't believe the harmless act for a second, having seen the damage those daggers could do, but the miner seemed a tad more gullible.

“Newcomers, eh? You come with a mining company? How come you ain't with them?” The miner said, hefting his rifle onto his shoulder.

“I could ask you the same question.” Victor shot back. “But no, we didn't come with a mining company, we were brought here.”

“By what?”

Victor shrugged. “I was hoping you'd know.”

“Well, I'm sorry I can't help ya.” The miner said, returning the shrug. “Name’s Douglas, welcome to our little dump in the middle of nowhere.”

“Does this place have a name?” Victor inquired.

“Nope. We shouldn't be here more than a couple weeks. We either get extracted, or the beasties kill us.” The miner said matter-of-factly.

“Do you have any food?” Sigmund piped up, his posture straightened hopefully.

“Sorry kid, we got some rations but we need ‘em all.” Douglas said, shrugging apologetically.

“Okay.” Sigmund said, his cheer undiminished. The cultist changed topic on a dime, gesturing over to the building at the centre of the camp. “What's that over there?”

“An old mine shaft from another expedition.” Douglas replied. “Got no crystals in it though, so it's not got much use.”

“Crystals?!” Sigmund asked suddenly, surprising both Victor and the miner.

“A-aye, that's what most folks come here for.”

“Crystals like these?” Sigmund said as he pulled out his pouch of breach crystals and deposited his remaining two into his palm. Douglas stared at the gems greedily for a moment, before strange feelings visibly set in, his expression growing uneasy. The crystals were almost blue, but a weird shade the miner had never seen in his life. They also seemed to hum with an uncomfortable frequency and… Were they changing shape as his viewing angle changed?

“Sorry, haven't seen anything like those, although I have heard some rumours of strange crystals deep, deep in the mines.” Douglas said, turning away from the otherworldly gems. “You're welcome to stay if you don't disturb anyone. If you have any more question, just ask me. And put those damn- I mean, could you please put those crystals away, please?”

Sigmund was surprised by the extreme reaction to the crystals, but obliged. The cultist was almost vibrating with excitement at the notion of breach crystals being found on the planet. What a blessing being brought to this place was!

 

[Ahana Varma]

It was immediately apparent to them all what it was as soon as they reached the mine. They'd crossed through a cavern, which had clearly been stripped of crystals long ago, in a manner much more crude than the careful, time-consuming excavation method which the illithids had forced their mind-slaves to adopt. They'd taken that as a good sign, hoping that the signs of an actual human presence meant they were near the surface.

They'd had no idea just how quickly they would come across obviously man-made tunnels and mine shafts, though. As soon as they were out of the cavern, they emerged into what was clearly an abandoned mine. On one had, they were jubilant, as the mine was undoubtedly going to prove much easier to navigate than the confusing and all-too-numerous ‘natural' passages they'd been traveling through thus far. It would be nice to not have to constantly double back after reaching yet another dead end, or else realise that they were going in circles after taking the same turn three times. Honestly, it was a small miracle that they'd made it out of there at all.

On the other had, whilst the honeycomb of tunnels may not have been all that navigable, they were, for the most part, stable. A trait not generally shared by old, abandoned mines. They tried to step as cautiously as possible and avoid touching anything, to reduce the risk of a cave-in… though given that they were dragging along the remainder of their supplies: a half-empty crate of canteens filled with water, two crates of excavation equipment and no less than three packed to the brim with harvested crystals… well, there was a limit to how delicately they could actually tread.

Alas, their attempts at escaping the underground with their loot were once again foiled by that cruellest of adversaries; a somewhat steep incline. Had they still been in the natural passages they would doubtless have taken yet another detour, however, having gotten so close to the surface already, the group agreed that they didn't particularly feel like doubling back and hoping to find another exit nearby.

Instead, they decided to leave behind the crates for the time being, and if there did turn out to be a settlement at the top of the shaft, they could hopefully purchase some equipment which would enable them to retreive their goods.

The incline only grew steeper as they continued on, but they persevered nonetheless, and soon saw the first hints of actual daylight. Before much longer after that, it grew bright enough that they were able to extinguish their lamps. And then, at long last, they finally made their return to the surface. The sight that met their eyes was not what they’d hoped they would see upon exiting the disused mine, but it also wasn't as bad as they'd feared.

It wasn't an actual settlement, but neither was it an abandoned ruin.

Three people stood facing them as the dozens-strong group of miners slowly filed out of the old shaft’s entranceway. One, who had the look of a miner himself, gawked at them as if seeing a ghost. A second man; blond and with piercing, red eyes, appeared only mildly curious and utterly at ease. Clearly not intimidated in the slightest by the group, despite their overwhelming numerical superiority. And the third, an almost emaciated younger man in a richly embroidered cloak, and with a scholarly look about him to boot (he was even carrying a book! And as far as Ahana was concerned, that made him a scholar), seemed fascinated and excited by their arrival.

At a glance, Ahana's first impression was of some off-world noble, who’d thought exploring the depths of Inverxe would make for a fascinating trip and so had begged his doting (and very wealthy) parents to allow him to go off on his little adventure… though those parents were at least intelligent enough to realise that their weedy son wouldn't last five minutes here by himself, so had sent him along with a bodyguard, and enough funds to hire a local to guide him wherever he wanted to go.

It made sense. Almost.

There was just one nagging doubt in her mind… something was strange about them, though she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was exactly. It took her a few moments of staring straight at them for it to click. The clothes they wore weren't insulated. While it did seem to be the case (judging by both the landscape and temperature) that they were currently near the top of a volcanic mountain, it was still strange that a group exploring the icy wastes of Ioun’s moon would immediately discard their protective gear the moment they came across an area with a temperature above 0°C.

There must be something more to them, she decided... well, perhaps not the miner-looking guy who she was assuming was their guide, as he seemed monumentally plain, and so was almost certainly either a normal person or a master of disguise. The smug-looking bodyguard and young nobleman, however, must be interesting people, she was sure.

The group’s four elders—Karl, towering, muscular and grey-haired; Arnie, dark-skinned and with a long beard; Liz, short and muscular, and; Amanda, tall and sour-faced—stepped forward and introduced themselves one by one to the trio. Karl then gestured back to Ahana, who had moved forward to stand just a short way behind them, and introduced her as their healer. The bunnygirl smirked lopsidedly and inclined her head slightly towards the trio.

A Note on Clothing
Ahana is not currently wearing her normal sari as seen in her character profile, as that outfit got pretty torn up in the previous thread. As such, she is now dressed in the same way as the rest of the miners she is accompanying. Their outfits pretty much look like this: [LINK] (because Inverxe is basically the Arctic).

As the volcano which they're on in this post is comparatively warm, most of them will probably have their hoods down, and Ahana in particular will most likely never have hers up; partly because she doesn't get cold, and partly because it probably wouldn't be too comfortable for someone with ears like hers.

 

[Victor Wolfe]

Waste of so much potential. That was all that the assassins colonial era mindset could find from these miners, slaves to their company, and the whims of the land around them. Their elder lacking the testicular fortitude to make the difficult decisions that could eventually lead to these healthy men making something of the bounty that nature had left at their feet to be taken.

Instead, they lived in constant fear, just waiting for the day that they get to escape from the wilderness, living off what their masters provided them and hoping that some big bad monster doesn't decide to turn them all into its next meal. This was not living, this was merely existing, An elder long past his prime willing to allow this pathetic status quo to continue, so long as at the end of the day he got to retire safely. This was not a situation that the mighty human race should ever have fallen too. Living like those damn tree hugging elves, slaves to the world around them. Humanity did not get so far by bowing down to nature, they took control of it, and warped the world to their liking.

Not all was lost, however, although morale seemed rather low, and the villagers content. Victor knew that these many able-bodied men could with the right words and methods, be convinced that things could be different. A man was driven by ambition and wants after all if he could ignite that spark, and use his guiding hand to lead them in the right direction, who knows what could happen.

Before these political ambitions could be mentioned to his new comrade in Vrell, another wildcard seemed to be drawn into the hands of fate that had led the pair to this village. Victor had not taken to much notice of the group of miners, leaving the mine. After all, it seemed like the sort of thing that would happen fairly often in a mining village. But the look of shock on the idiot in chiefs face made it clear that these men where assumed lost to the depths of the mine.

The expression on the assassin's face turned from mild curiosity to bemusement as he noticed two long black rabbit ears, sticking if from within the group. Not recognising the girl due to her much thicker clothing the dark face and black ears gave away another of his former companions, it would seem that the gods of this world where far more kind than the last, quickly giving back some of what they had taken from the lord. Ahana Varma, the slightly violent zealot who had flown for that failure of a manbot Des..men? Not exactly a Goldie but another familiar face. Some members of her crew introduced themselves, Victor deciding that if they lasted more than the next two weeks he may decide to learn their names, or even bestow them with better ones, a high honour for sure.

After the four stooges introduced themselves they signalled out Ahana as their healer causing Victor to stifle a chuckle, the image of her throwing spears and slapping around that kid still in his mind, hardly what he would have expected from someone versed in life magic, however it was clear that this was not the same Ahana, as she did not instantly recognise the face of Nippurian Diplomacy, either that or she had terrible memory. Victor and Sigmund both took turns to introduce themselves before Victor slyly grinned.

"Well Miss Varma, it is certainly a pleasure to see a face as lovely as yours again," he said in a joyful tone

"how do you?" Before she could even respond the quick thinking assassin had already turned to the old man next to him.

"Excuse me sir, but our friend here just rescued some of your people, so perhaps we could get a small room to ourselves for a few hours, just to relax from the trek up this mountain and catch up with each other, we have a lot to talk about, perhaps even a small portion of rations for services rendered would be a nice thank you too?" He asked politely but forcefully, the old man looking at the faces of those he thought long gone before sighing.

"Fine, I will get you each a meal, and you can use my hut for the time being, after all, I need to check on these people and find out what happened down there, that will take a few hours." The elderly leader pointed his pick to the largest of the makeshift huts. Victor gave a polite bow and a thank you before he started to walk towards the hut before his companions could ask any questions he simply clapped his hands

Come you two, I just earned us a meal and I didn't even need to cook anyone, what a wild place" he strutted towards the elders home and before long the trio were left alone, around a table, each with a basic but cooked meal in front of them.

Victor, as usual, took control of the conversation, explaining how he knew of an Ahana Varma in his own world and the situations that had led to his arrival in this dimension. The girl just gave him a bemused look, as one would to a crazy person ranting about how the world would be ending next Tuesday.

"But our possible dimensional histories is not why I brought you two here, you see. This village is in the process of decay, stagnation, and rot. But I believe that with the three of us, we can fix that. Ahana you have already shown that you are capable of keeping these people alive when everyone expected their death, that is a strong symbol of hope. Sigmund, if you are anything like your father you will turn into a strong bastion of magic, science and faith, all things that I believe will be needed to truly carve out our portion of this planet. Everything we need is here to succeed, we have mines for minerals and metals, creatures to turn into the hunted, snow for water, and fertile volcanic ground for some great farming." Victor laid out his points with all the charm and conviction of a politician.

"But all these advantages are void, if there is not a system in place that is willing to take the risks and make the sacrifices that need to be made to go from this pathetic state of awaiting death or escape, to truly thriving, and that is why I ask you two, to help me find a way to replace this broken down old leader, with someone... fresh. For you see my friends, I never thought miners essential. They're crude and unspeakably plain, but maybe they've a glimmer of potential when allied to my vision and brain."Victor almost purred as he extended his hands for a handshake with his potential partners in crime.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund watched passively as the bunny-eared woman and her companions mingled with the miners, fascinated by their appearance. The cultist couldn't take his eyes off of her ears, they were just so… Fascinating. Before he could ask about them, however, Victor shepherded them into a room away from the others and delivered a rousing speech. When he got to Sigmund’s father, the priest beamed, before recoiling as if stung as the assassin continued.

“Magic, science and faith.”

Sigmund figured that it was just a slip of the tongue. He would never speak such blasphemy intentionally. Right? The cultist took Victor’s hand and shook it, but his grip was tense.

“That magic comment was an accident, right?” Sigmund said, still smiling.

“Hmm?” Victor asked, confused.

“I'd just like an apology for it.”

“What for? Your father practised magic, didn't he?”

Sigmund’s smile dropped, and for a moment he was the spitting image of his father, hard expression and all.

“You'd do well not to disrespect my father like that, Victor.” Sigmund said coldly, before his smile returned nervously. “Wait, did I really just say that?”

“Uh, yeah.” Victor said, taken aback.

“Ah, I'm so sorry, that just sort of slipped out. Gods, how embarrassing…”

“So, how do your father’s powers work, then?” Victor said, his calm expression returning.

“Wait, you really didn't know?” Sigmund asked, surprised. Victor simply shook his head in response. “Father’s powers came from channeling divine energy.”

Victor nodded uncertainly, both unsurprised and seemingly unconvinced that there was a difference between the two.

“Anyways, do we have an agreement?” The assassin asked, getting the conversation back on track.

“Certainly.” Sigmund said.

“Sure.” Ahana agreed, having sat silent through the exchange.

“Excellent. Let's get to work.” Victor said, clapping his hands together cheerfully. “After we eat, that is.”

The trio began eating the meals, but Sigmund paused after a few moments.

“What is this?” The cultist asked, poking at the mass of white grains on his plate.

“Rice.”

Sigmund simply nodded as he ate, attempting to enjoy something new, but couldn't help but note how bland it was compared to what he was used to. What he wouldn't give for some boar right now. Once they had finished eating, the trio got up and exited the tent. Victor was running plans through his heads as he lead Sigmund and Ahana through the small village, and the cultist couldn't help himself anymore.

“Are they real?” He hissed to the bunny-girl.

“They are.” She said, smiling slightly. Sigmund got the impression that she was asked that often. “What does your dad do? You know, ‘faith and science’. He must be pretty rich to send you off to Inverxe.”

“Father was a cult elder.” The priest replied matter-of-factly. To her credit, Ahana seemed unperturbed. “He didn't send me here, either. I just kind of… Appeared here.”

“What's with the book, then?” The bunny-girl asked.

“Ah, my grimoire?” Sigmund asked, his smile breaking into an excited grin. “It has anything anyone has ever known, or could want to know about the eldritch. It took me five years to get through it.”

“It’s not that big.” Ahana remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“It's bigger inside than out. Plus you have to try to keep your sanity in check while reading it, which just eats up your time.”

The pair lapsed into silence as they followed Victor. Sigmund couldn't help but wonder what the assassin had in mind for the pair, and was eager to hear his plans for domination.

 

[Ahana Varma]

They surveyed the little village while they walked and Ahana answered Sigmund’s questions. She may not have been a particularly cautious person by nature, but even she could see at a glance why the miners were holding out for a rescue rather than planning on staying here for too long. These other two apparently had come to the Crossroads from other worlds, but as a native to the system and someone who had been living on Inverxe for months already, the bunnygirl was well aware that there was a good reason the successful towns and villages of Ioun’s moon were always fortified.

There were things out there in the cold wastes that could tear through this ramshackle hamlet as easily as if these rickety buildings of theirs were constructed from tissue-paper.

Her presence here—and possibly the presences of the other two, if they were as powerful as she was beginning to suspect—would at least give them a chance of surviving an assault, but if Victor was really serious about turning this place into a thriving settlement, she was sure that the first step would need to be some defensive emplacements.

She didn’t point that out, though, preferring instead to wait and see what suggestions the others came up with. After wandering aimlessly for a little while, looking at all the little shacks, huts and tents, they left the village and climbed a little higher, until they’d reached a good vantage point. Victor stopped, and the three of them turned to look down at the poor excuse for a mining camp that they were apparently going to be calling their own.

It wasn’t a development she had expected, but Ahana figured it might be entertaining to try going along with the ambitious man’s grand plans. Surprisingly, it was Sigmund who spoke up first, “We should start a cult.”

“A cult?” the healer wasn’t particularly fond of bowing and scraping to gods, and the suggestion of religion gave her the—perhaps unfounded—suspicion that the young man would suggest something stupid, like building a church before they had even constructed walls or figured out how they’d be putting food on the table.

Victor glanced sideways at his cloaked companion and smiled slightly, but made no comment. It seemed he had been expecting a suggestion such as this.

“Yes,” the grimoire-holder answered seriously, nodding once, “It is important to show proper respect to the gods if you want to keep their favour. Besides, sharing a faith will bring these people closer as a group, and we’ll need them working well together if we’re really planning to run our own town.”

“A town?” Victor scoffed, “No, no, don’t think so small, Sigmund.”

Standing in between the other two, the man in black threw his arms around their shoulders and pulled them closer, leaning forward conspiratorially, “My friends, this is only the beginning… we are going to build an empire.”

“Oh? Well that sounds optimistic, Mr Strategist...” the bunnygirl smirked sidelong at him, then shrugged, “but it’s not like I have anything better to do, so I guess I’m on board.”

“Excellent,” the blond turned to his other ally, who nodded without even having to be asked.

“So long as worship of the Elder Gods is a central tenet of our ‘empire’, the further we can spread, the better.”

“Alright, so as I said earlier, step one is to replace that old fool of a leader… and this cult-building notion has given me an excellent idea. We need to convince these people that following us is in their best interests, right?”

“Right.” the other two responded together.

“Well, as it just so happens, we have a ready-made miracle right here, thanks to Ahana… a mining expedition long thought lost, now returned to the surface from the depths of the planet-”

“Moon.” Ahana interrupted.

“Huh?”

“This place, Inverxe, is the moon of that planet, Ioun.” she pointed up at the gas giant which filled the sky. Victor waved a hand dismissively.

“Alright, alright, this moon, then. Anyway, the point is that you rescued dozens of people who the rest of these miners all thought dead. Just let Sigmund bring you up to speed on all these Elder Gods of his and you can go about preaching to everyone about how great they are and tell them all that you’re sure it was only because of them that you made it back above ground alive.”

“Hmm.” the healer thought about that. It wasn't a bad plan, technically, but if she went about telling people she was receiving instructions from the gods then she'd either be branded a lunatic or, worse, they might believe her and start calling her a prophet, and then she'd be expected to solve all their trivial little problems... or at least hear them out and pretend to care. It sounded like a whole lot of effort, and she wasn’t at all keen on that. Before she could conjure up some objection to raise, however, the blue-eyed youth beat her too it.

“That’s not exactly realistic. There are far too many Elder Gods, and the details of their worship far too important for me to simply summarise everything and give someone all the information they’d need in a mere day or two.”

“Alright,” Victor said after a moment’s hesitation, “how about starting with just one of them? We could always teach people about the others later, if you feel that it's necessary to their... ah... spiritual wellbeing, or something.”

“Yes, I suppose that could work...” the priest was staring down at the village, seemingly lost in thought.

“Well, Ahana, you’ve been here longer than either of us, do you have any idea what kind of god would suit these people? A kind of god that they'd be more likely to obey?”

She shrugged and, smirking again, jokingly suggested, “Don’t suppose there’s a god of being batshit crazy?”

Sigmund looked up at her, “Well, I wouldn’t quite phrase it that way, but the patron deity of my family's cult is Gal’skap, the Elder God of Madness.”

“Seriously? You have an actual madness god?”

“What made you suggest a god of insanity in the first place?” Victor interjected before Sigmund could respond.

The bunnygirl sighed, “Inverxe is a weird place. It’s filled with tunnels that go gods-only-know how far down, for one thing. More importantly, though, being here, on this world, tends to affect the mind pretty severely. It’s said to bring depression in some cases, while others just snap and start killing people. I figure these miners would be pretty likely to respect this ‘girl scalp’-”

“Gal’skap” interrupted Sigmund. Ahana shrugged.

“The Elder God of Madness. That one. They’d respect it more than most other gods, since madness is kind of a big deal around here. If we could convince them that worshipping him would make them not go crazy… or at least make them go crazy in a more enjoyable way than depression… that’d likely make them more keen on sticking around.“

“Good thinking.” Victor nodded, “Alright, so that can be the basis of our plan. Sigmund teaches Ahana and I about Gal’skap, then we all go preach about how great it is, and make her out to be some sort of messiah or saint. After what she just did, they’ll eat it up and in no time we’ll supplant that old guy and put her in his place.”

“Hey, hey, hey, wait. Why do I have to be the one who gets put in charge? Just because I’ve saved a few dozen people’s lives? Tch. You both seem like impressive people to me… I’m sure you have some tricks of your own up your sleeves; you could probably do way more 'miraculous' things than I could manage if you put your minds to it… especially you, priest. I bet that ‘larger on the inside’ spellbook of yours lets you do some pretty sweet stuff, right?”

“It’s not a spellbook.” the cloaked man snapped, glaring daggers at her.

“Eesh, fine. Your ‘grimoire’, then. Are you honestly telling me that these Elder Gods of yours don’t give you some perks for carrying their book around all over the place?”

Sigmund sighed and looked around until he found something suitable for serving as a demonstration. As the strategist and the healer watched, he pointed dramatically at a nearby small boulder with some sort of shrub growing atop it, and held up his tome in his other hand, allowing the book to fall open. Its pages fluttered, turning quickly as if caught in a powerful breeze, though there was no wind.

A moment later, a blast of rainbow-hued light burst from his hand and struck the rock with a bright flash. They closed their eyes for a second—momentarily blinded by the light that they'd been staring directly into—and when they opened them again they were looking at a bare boulder with a small scorch mark on its top. Of the plant, there was no sign. The totally-not-magic which Sigmund had used seemed pretty effective. He snapped the book shut.

Ahana turned to Victor, “And you? Can you do anything as flashy as that?”

“As flashy? Not exactly.” smirking a little, the man in black pulled out a silver knife and strolled across to the little boulder Sigmund had targeted. Holding the weapon blade-down, he plunged it into the stone. With a mighty crack, the rock split completely in two.

“Oh. Huh. Wow, that’s certainly something.” even with her own massive blade, the bunnygirl knew she wouldn’t manage to pull off a feat such as that. Small though they appeared, this guy’s weapons clearly eclipsed her own in terms of power. Despite herself, she had to admit that he was pretty impressive, “Well, I guess it’s my turn to show off now.”

Planting b’Akphiyr in the ground, she held out her thumb towards the blade’s edge, then paused. Giving herself a small cut would demonstrate how her power worked, but it wouldn’t exactly seem all that great after the strength the others had just demonstrated.

She pulled back her right hand, clenched it into a fist, and while holding the sword in place with her left—and before either of her companions could realise what she was about to do and think to stop her from being a dumbass—Ahana swung the most powerful punch she could manage right at b’Akphiyr’s blade.

Her fingers struck it’s edge just slightly past her knuckles, and the blow was strong enough that the metal tore through flesh, muscle and bone alike.

As four severed digits fell to the ground, the young woman straightened up, gritting her teeth against the pain, and held up her blood-soaked hand, just in time to let Victor and Sigmund watch as four fingers formed of radiant light in place of her missing ones, wreathed in golden flames. The fire quickly receded, though, and moments later her fingers were regrown entirely.

Much of her hand was still covered in blood, however, so she licked that clean, then grinned at the two men, “What do you think?”

“Seems useful. And you can heal others too?” said Victor appreciatively, in the same moment that Sigmund said suspiciously:

“Seems magical. How does it work?”

“Yeah. It’s an aura, affects everyone in about twenty feet of me. Get injured near me and you get healed. It’s not super useful in battle, for obvious reasons, but if you could manage to kill someone while just out of its range, then stagger back over before you were to bleed out, that could work, I suppose. As for how I do it, I have no clue. My family called it the ‘Indiscriminate Aura of the Divine Conflagration’. They thought I was a chosen one of our gods, or some such shit… but as far as I know they just pulled that all out of their asses. Every one of them is dead now, so it’s not like we can really go ask for any more details they might have forgotten to mention.”

“Right…" the cloaked man began hesitantly, "well, these gods of yours may not be proper gods, but I suppose that your aura not being magical in nature is what’s most important.”

It seemed that he was generously choosing to accept the honesty of her words and the accuracy of her people's mythology, so that was fortunate.

“Okay, are we all happy then?" Victor asked, "Are we agreed that Ahana is the most saintly-seeming one of us and therefore the best figurehead to serve as group leader?”

“Yes.” agreed the priest.

“No!” objected the healer, “You two can do stuff too, so either of you could just as easily take on that role. Why should I have to be the one who needs to deal with all that hassle?”

“Well, I’m really more of a master manipulator type guy, working in the shadows, behind the scenes, that sort of thing.” the red-eyed man said.

“And I’m not the best leader, to be honest,” the brunette added, “I may have helped out on occasion, but for the most part I left that sort of thing to my father and sisters, while I studied the ways of our cult.”

The bunnygirl groaned, “Ugh, but I can’t take charge... people might expect me to actually know things and be responsible and stuff. And fuck that crap... Oh, wait! I know! Why don’t we get one of the miners to do it?”

“What? No." their strategist looked at her as if she were a complete moron, "The whole point of usurping their leadership is to put someone who isn’t a miner in charge, because they’re too timid. Leave it up to them and they’ll surely all just run off-world somewhere until they've spent all their pay and are forced to come back to earn some more.”

“Oh, right, yeah.”

“I suppose we could always just share the job until we can find someone more suited to it?” offered Sigmund, “I know it’s not exactly an ideal solution for any of us, but it seems like the only real choice we have at the moment.”

Victor and Ahana each spent a few moments feverishly racking their brains to try and find some other solution, before giving up and resigning themselves to their fate.

They agreed to the proposal, and shortly thereafter—now with an actual objective in mind—the three of them found suitable spots to sit and settled down begin their lessons on the religion of the Elder God of Madness, Gal’skap.