Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Borean Forest

Elie took a breath finding that spark of defiance that had kept him going for so long. Getting up from his knees, Elie stuck out his hand. His staff flew into it a long shaft of solid Elm. Looking up at the storm raging he struck his staff hard on the ground. It roared like a clap of thunder and the snow quit falling around them. "My Name is Elie Sansa, Shaman Of the lost tribe. And the Demon Seed. I can fight and kill if need be to make peace. If I have read the Oman right then you will need every weapon you can get your hands on in the times to come. I may be broken in more than a few ways but I hear the call." Elie said a fire in his eyes his jaw clenched. As the storm slowed around them 'Jereck thank you for showing me how to control my dreams.' Elie thought as he stared at the armored figure.
 
Though the storm in his immediate vicinity seemed to slow, the snow beyond grew all the heavier and blinding. It was almost as if he weren't the only one controlling the dream, and his efforts warred against another.

Meanwhile the draconian stared him down, her expression unwavering. Finally she spoke once more.

"We shall see, Demon-touched," she spoke. "We shall see. Climb then, but know the path before you is wrought with danger. Never forget that should you falter on this journey, it is those closest to you who will suffer your failures."

"Enough I will give my body when I die if you just stop this!"

Once again his own words echoed through his mind, a reminder of what was at stake should he fall. Of what he risked exposing others to.

Leaving him to weigh her words the draconian seemed to fade then as the storm engulfed her and she was lost from view. The calm pocket of air around Elie fought back against the encroaching storm though, and through the distant curtain of snow he could make out a faint light atop the mountain.

Before he could determine whether to move forward or not, he would find himself rousing from the dream.
 
3 Months later

Elie's road to the mountain was not easy. He had been robbed three times. His horse had died and he had killed six more people. But finally, he was there. His travel worn clothes now little more than rags. His boots stolen by highwaymen. And it had been weeks since he had a meal. He was leaning heavy on an Elm staff. As he gazed upon the mountain. Realizing now that he was standing in the place. He had the conversation that had led him to abandon his company. No doubt if he ever crosses paths with those men there would be even more blood on his hands.
Taking a deep breath he moved forward his feet leaving melted spots in the snow as he began hiking up the mountain.
 
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It was supposed to be an easy in and out for Captain Costas and his crew, but a miscalculation of his Century's FTL Drive proved to be a bit costlier than foreseen, considering the treacherous nature of jumps into Sol to begin with. He had been given a black file order by the higher echelons of his government, to fly over Valore in low orbit, undetected while dropping supplies and new orders for the men and women stranded on the surface.

The Century made it's jump from the staging area at Tal'dor with relative ease, except one glaring problem.

The split second the bomber flickered out of FTL, it was moving straight towards the ground, roughly 35,000 km up, but fortunately the Bomber had just left it's Reverence, or it would be traveling at much higher speeds, however, upon hitting the jump, the Bomber was moving at roughly 1,000 meters per second.

The initial shock was instant, rocking the Century as it nosedived towards the surface. Moving at speeds that would ensure a violent impact in ten seconds.

The Navigator and bombardier were hanging on in panic, and Costas quickly grabbed his control stick, instinctively pulling up, as the wings of the heavy craft protested.

The Century Bomber was massive, and handled slow and cumbersome, it was an impossibility to salvage continued flight, but he pulled the control stick as hard as he could, slowly angling his descent, but it was too late.

Tops of trees caught the wings as he tried to airbrake, friction flaps fully extended as he tried his best to slow his flight.

Several thick trunks caught the craft, lurching it to a stop and causing Dion's world to go black as glass and metal shards flew all around him, the plane hitting the ground and grinding to a stop, little more than mangled wreckage.
 
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A lone rider on horseback trotted along a path through the forest. First Kynan saw it..then the soundwave hit. He was almost thrown as his horse reared upwards in freight. "Woahhhh Anna" He said giving a tug on the reins. He recognized the bomber as Aschen, it looked similar to those that had been flying over Westeria city in the attack on Valore.

This wasn't good but Kynan decided he needed to investigate and check for survivors. He urged the horse off the path in the direction of the crashed bomber.
 
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Heat, the stench of rotting, burning flesh, smoke, rubber, and all sorts of foul smells roused Costas from his state of unconsciousness. The copilot had been impaled by a branch, which had gone through the canopy glass, and through his head. The young man didn't stand a chance. The Navigator and bombardier had been thrown from their stations, their mangled bodies strewn about the cabin among blood-soaked walls.

Costas hacked, as the foul stench of smoke filled his nostrils, but he knew he had to escape.

Grabbing the harness that restrained him firmly to the flight seat, he yanked at it's clasps, undoing them one by one, before he fell free from his chair, hitting the ground face first, but clawing away from the flight deck.

The floor was hot, soaked with blood and viscera, which Costas percieved through blurred and fading vision.

"Come on, you're not dying here on this gods forsaken rock."

Slowly he pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the cargo net for support, and then he pulled himself to the first aid kit, a brilliant red triangle with the rod of Aesculapius emblazoned on the front.

He opened the box and fumbled with it's contents, grabbing a pressurized syringe loaded with medical nanites and a powerful narcotic, and then he jabbed it into his leg, which had been bleeding profusely from a deep gash. Then he swiftly grabbed a stimpak, the bright green colored syringe, and held it firmly to his chest, injecting the contents. His heart began to race, the pain numbed and his vision cleared, with this newfound clarity he grabbed the canister of biofoam, filling his wound and wrapping tightly with clean gauze, splinting the leg in case there was more damage.

He hobbled to the bulkhead, grabbing an MC-1 Carbine from a nearby rack, as well as a small emergency duffel that contained emergency rations, ammunition, fusion cells, and a medical kit.

"The stuff will be okay in the pods, the kanvium laminate will keep out nosy people." He said to himself, shoving the heavy door open, and stumbling out into the forest.
 
As Kynan approached the crash site he tied Anna to a nearby tree making a very low audible click signaling the horse to keep quiet. He grabbed his longbow from the saddlebag and approached the crash site on foot moving carefully and keeping to cover to avoid detection. As he approached the crash he stopped at the edge of the woods. He noticed a man off in a black flight suit about 200 meters away, he looked back briefly to observe the wreckage and surrounding area but didn't notice any movement.

He could leave the man. Chances were they guy would be forced to wander aimlessly for weeks. However, Kynan knew he couldn't do that even if this man was Aschen. Standing up he let out a loud whistle to get the man's attention but kept close to a large tree just in case the man decided to respond with a weapon. He was taking a chance here but this man was now stranded in a strange land with no knowledge of the area. If Kynan was lucky he could get the man to surrender, but he would cross that bridge later.
 
The pilot was hopped up on Stims, narcotics, and combat nanites for the purposes of treating his wounds, not so much sound decision making, but the Pilot moved quickly for cover, putting a thick tree between him and the source of the whistling.

"You Xenos bastards aren't taking me alive." He grumbled, yanking the bolt on the rifle, charging the weapon, then hefting it around the tree and firing it. His hearing was acute, and the weapon let out it's bark.

There was no disruptor fire, no streak of brilliant green light to reveal the man's position, only a 'ratta-tatta-tatta' sound that echoed through the forest, 8.8mm ferric-tungsten rounds splintering wood all around Kynan, some hit the ground, others split rock as they hit, making a loud 'twang' as the projectile struck stone.

Hoping to suppress his target, Costas rolled into some foliage, and began to move, putting some distance between him and whoever was whistling .
 
Kynan ducked back behind the tree and kept low as rounds sprayed around him. He waited a few moments before he began to move with care stealthily making his way deeper into the forest taking a wide arch around. He knew enough to avoid the man's original position Kynan was letting the man gain some ground. He would track him when he picked up the man'ss trail. He wasn't worried about his horse which was currently well out of sight. and Kynan was between that position and the direction he likely ran off to.
 
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Slipping into some dense cover, Costas reconsidered his course of action, before taking a small telescoping mirror from his chest pocket, and holding it up. The Century had broken in two it looked like, with the flight deck and the fore cargo bays where he emerged from, and the aft cargo bay likely a klick or more back. He used the plumes of thick black smoke as a guide, before he retracted the mirror, and put it back into his pocket.

He took another brief moment to pull up his datapad, there was a set of coordinates broadcasting, the Century's subspace distress beacon was active, then he checked the cargo manifest. Six supply pods, one with medical supplies, one with spare parts, one with food, one with weapons, one with ammunition, and one with explosives. In addition there were two Lynx IFVs, but the forest was too thick to make travel by IFV Possible, so he scrolled down. "There's two Arion type UTVs in the rear cargo hold." Groaning in pain, he looked down to his leg, the bandage soaked in blood.

"The stims are wearing off, I'll rest here for a moment.." He groaned, and then pulled out an emergency concealment blanket, which refracted the light in a way that it blended nearly seamlessly with it's surroundings, a proverbial invisibility cloak, while not as perfect as a powered cloaking system, among the dense foliage, it would make an excellent concealment.

So Costas pulled it over himself, and settled behind an overturned, and rotted out log, where he could better look at his wound.
 
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