Damn that's good reading! Especially the part with the brochure!
A smart strategy, to forcibly take the young children and thus coerce the rest of those families to go along. Once they find out that they're actually much safer in a Chaos work camp than in the Federation where they'll soon enough be at the wrong end of some powerful weaponry.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little." -George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting." -Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
Chronological Incontinence: Time warps around the poster. The thread topic winks out of existence and reappears in 1d10 posts.
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
These Chaos gods have very carefully read the Evil Overlord List and have in fact made it required study material for officer training. Thing is though that someone who has read the EOL and abides by the majority of the big rules is not that far off from a benevolent dictator. They call themselves evil, but they're nowhere near as bad as they could be, and are in fact downright nice some of the time. They just call themselves evil because its a hell of a lot more convenient when making first impressions to say, "Hey! We're a bunch of evil gods!" than "Well, you see, it's a rather complex situation and while we're not exactly nice to call us evil is perhaps a bit unfair for you see..." when the majority of people will think of them as evil anyway. Plus it lets them ham it up and shape the perceptions of others to their benefit.
And no matter what the EOL says, maniacal laughter is always fashionable.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Maniacal laughter is always in style, but it can easily be prerecorded, or delegated to a minion with the appropriate vocal talents.
And then you can have your sensor systems specifically designed to edit out the sound of your own maniacal laughter, and use it for low-tech audio jamming against the enemy as well.
Academia Nut wrote:These Chaos gods have very carefully read the Evil Overlord List and have in fact made it required study material for officer training. Thing is though that someone who has read the EOL and abides by the majority of the big rules is not that far off from a benevolent dictator. They call themselves evil, but they're nowhere near as bad as they could be, and are in fact downright nice some of the time. They just call themselves evil because its a hell of a lot more convenient when making first impressions to say, "Hey! We're a bunch of evil gods!" than "Well, you see, it's a rather complex situation and while we're not exactly nice to call us evil is perhaps a bit unfair for you see..." when the majority of people will think of them as evil anyway. Plus it lets them ham it up and shape the perceptions of others to their benefit.
And of course we have the lessons from the Dread Pirate Roberts in Princess Bride; what you call yourself shapes how people react to you. I.E. no one ever ran gibbering in fear from "Not Quite Nice" galactic overlords.
The rain it falls on all alike
Upon the just and unjust fella'
But more upon the just one for
The Unjust hath the Just's Umbrella
A man sat alone in his jail cell, contemplating life, the universe, and everything. Mostly he was doing this in an attempt to figure out a way to get out of this cell, but the guys in suits in charge of him had made sure that he could not perform even the smallest of spells, keeping his hands bound and his mouth firmly closed. So he was left with trying to figure out how to free himself under such constraints.
He had resorted to silent prayer to the various gods in the hope that someone would decide to help him out for a laugh. So far it wasn’t working. Extending out with his mind as far as he could out into the ether, he suddenly heard a small ‘Pop!’ in his mind and thought to himself, Well you’ve done it now Ethan, you’ve given yourself a stroke.
For a moment there was a slight ringing before he heard a voice in his head say, “Thank you for calling the gods of Chaos. Due to the increased traffic load from various missions we have implemented an automated system to better serve your needs.”
Bloody hell! Even the gods were modernizing these days! An automated call system didn’t seem very chaotic to Ethan, but then again he supposed that if they wanted to inflict pain and insanity on the unworthy then this was definitely the way to go.
“If you wish to file a report, please think ‘one’ now… you have thought ‘one’. Taking you to mission report thought mail,” the voice on the other end said, causing Ethan to curse. Asking someone to not think of something was a sure fire way to get them to think about it, although he had a sneaking suspicion that this system wasn’t exactly made for humans. He would just have to try and keep his mind calm and empty.
Of course at that point one of his captors decided to check in on him and demand to know what he was doing.
“Automated keyword check has detected ‘captor’ in your report and signs of stress. Have you been captured?” The voice inquired.
Yes! Ethan thought.
“Checking… checking… please remain patient… checking… systems indicate that there is minimal Warp interference in your location and you can be safely recovered. Would you like an extraction?” The voice asked.
Bloody hell yes! Ethan thought on first impulse before he could realize that he had no idea who exactly was on the other end of the line and maybe sitting in his nice cell would be preferable to being taken somewhere else.
Unfortunately by then it was too late and Ethan Rayne, chaos mage found himself yanked through a hole in reality toward an unknown destination. The transit lasted only a few seconds, during which time he was exposed to the blackest darkness and a sense of coming apart at the seams, as if he were unravelling to fill the void before he was vomited back out into reality.
Of a sort.
Ethan found himself lying naked in a heap on some sort of stone tile floor in a small domed chamber, his magical senses all screaming at him that something was very, very wrong with this place. His fears were confirmed a moment later when a group of heavily armoured demons wielding enormous axes entered the room. It was impossible to describe to the uninitiated, but he could taste the fact these creatures were completely unlike the bog standard demons back home.
These were pure blooded demons. These were Old Ones, or at the very least the elite soldiers of Old Ones, and as such were about as far out of his league as it could possibly be. On his best day with full planning and the back up of a small army he might be able to take one of these monsters, but naked and alone against six he was completely screwed.
The demons looked down at him with some confusion before one of them in particularly ornate armour said, “You’re not one of ours.”
Ethan was quite amazed that the voice sounded feminine rather than evil, but he did not really have time to remark upon his surprise before he was hauled to his feet, the demon saying, “The gods will want to talk with this one.”
Ethan found himself frog-marched out of the bare chamber into a lurid, macabre realm of bizarrely twisting corridors adorned with strange sigils made of writhing, viridescent flames and solid blocks of coruscating light. Every colour imaginable, and a few that weren’t, were present in abundance. The whole place was a riot for the senses.
As the soldier demons carried him along, the population density began to increase. There were all sorts of creatures, but the terrifying thing was that aside from a profusion of the demonic there were also a huge number of humans of every possible description going about various forms of business, bearing the sort of marks that showed that they had dedicated themselves completely and utterly to whatever deities these demons served. He even saw several people walking around who were clearly possessed.
Eventually they brought him before a set of great metal doors that had to be at least ten metres across and forty high, constructed of iron, brass, gold, and what appeared to be flesh and set with rubies, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires to create a grotesque series of scenes that Ethan could not comprehend but seemed to involve excessive amounts of dismemberment.
With barely even a creak the great doors opened, revealing a swirling maelstrom on the other side, at the centre of which was an enormous stepped pyramidal structure upon the top of which was an enormous throne structure. Four figures were upon the throne, three of them sitting upon the legs or lap of the fourth.
When the figures had such things as laps and legs.
It was impossible to describe them properly, for each moment they were something different, and many of their forms defied human definition, but one common motif was of a man in his prime with three beautiful women, a pleased sneer upon his face.
As they approached, the forms stabilized, presumably for Ethan’s benefit. The four figures disentangled themselves from each other, allowing them to rise, the man coming to the forefront to take a closer look at Ethan.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The man asked. From his gaze Ethan felt that he probably already knew everything there was to know from Ethan, but wanted to hear it for the benefit of the others in the court.
“We found him in one of the emergency recovery chambers,” the lead guard stated.
Feeling the eyes turn upon him seeking an explanation, Ethan stuttered out, “I… ah… appear to have… well… err… called the wrong number, magically speaking. Terrible misunderstanding you see, and… well… I… uh… yes. Yes. Total misunderstanding.”
“Your coming here was foreseen, Ethan Rayne,” the man stated.
“Bullshit,” one of the women behind him, a redhead, stated.
Turning upon her in annoyance, the man said, “Dear, I’m trying to cow the mortal here, and you’re not helping me maintain the proper air of all knowing superiority.”
“All knowing… sure… if you were really all knowing then why was it that…” The red head began before he cut her off.
“Not the time my dear, not the fucking time,” the man said.
The purple haired one, who appeared as a sexy, sexy MILF raised a finger and said, “Actually, today’s orgy is scheduled in five minutes.”
The man paused before conjuring up a pocket watch and saying, “Well what do you know?”
“See? Not all knowing,” the red head pointed out.
“It is his brand of prop humour,” the blue haired albino woman said.
“Shut it,” the red head spat.
“If this is a bad time I can come back later,” Ethan suggested.
Glancing back at him, the man said, “You wish. Anyway, since someone had to go and ruin my aura of omniscience, I’ll get right to the point. You weren’t supposed to be able to get into that line and that error was fixed but we are very impressed nonetheless… unless of course you were and I’m just fucking with your mind.”
“Pro-tip, he probably is fucking with your mind either way,” the red head pointed out.
Glancing back at her to give her a baleful stare, he returned his attention to Ethan and said, “Getting back to the topic at hand, we would like to offer you a job Mr. Rayne. As a so-called worshipper of chaos, we would like to introduce you to the benefits of big ‘C’ Chaos and hope that you will take them back to your home dimension.”
“Uh…” Ethan said nervously.
“You don’t have to answer now, the orgy is getting ready to start, so maybe you should tell us then,” the man said, waving his hand to beckon forth a large group of scantily clad women. Smiling, he told them, “Please take very good care of our guest here.”
Ethan felt like the man who had jumped out of a plane without a parachute only to discover that his fall was broken by landing in a pool at the Playboy mansion.
Somewhere across the multiverse a dark command room only vaguely illuminated by the monitors of various screens suddenly lit up with various warning lights and the low chatter of technicians going about their work was drowned out by warning klaxons suddenly activating. There was an immediate, brief panic as everyone tried to figure out what was going on before professionalism kicked in and they began sorting out what had tripped all of their alarms.
“Incoming transdimensional shock wave!” One of the technicians announced.
“Inform the fleet,” the officer on duty ordered. “Do we have a source yet?”
“It’s coming from the direction of Wild Space!” One of the technicians announced.
Everyone felt a shiver at that announcement. Wild Space was the border land of universes about the horrific realm known as Chaotic Space. Chaotic Space had been sealed off an unknown number of eons ago by some ancient people, but despite their skills the almost non-stop dimensional rifts within Chaotic Space had a tendency to bleed out into the surrounding realities, making navigation in the dimensional sea a trying task. For the most part Wild Space never saw patrols, making it something of a haven for pirates and outlaws insane enough to take the risks.
That said a dimensional rift had not been recorded in Wild Space for hundreds of years. It required an enormous amount of energy to disturb the dimensional sea in any significant way, and Wild Space was not sufficiently disturbed to normally generate those sorts of forces.
The entire command room rumbled as the shockwave passed over their observation post, but they already braced for impact and were on a fixed point, so the fact that they felt anything at all was worrying.
“Shock wave has passed, communications are returning. Beginning triangulation with other outposts…” someone said.
There was a gasp of horror as the results were displayed upon the main holographic projector. Entire universes were presented as points of light like stars in the sky trailing tangled webs of unrealized timelines behind them, creating the impression of a constellation of jellyfish floating in the void, forming great arms and clusters of being.
And shunted off to one side, out on a branch of existence far from everything else, was the stain that was Chaotic Space, sealed off from everything else by the great works of an elder civilization. And the triangulations showed that the shock wave had come from within that damned place. Already their sensors were picking up tangled skeins of madness reaching out, ensnaring other cosmoses within Wild Space.
The officer did the only thing he could. He said to his communications officer, “Get me the TSAB Headquarters.”
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Long term, probably not. The TSAB simply doesn't have the weaponry to launch a sustained conflict against Chaos, and while their Arc en Ceils are powerful enough to cause a shit pile of damage, the range is less than their area of effect so they actually have to jump their ships out immediately after firing, if I remember the official word correctly. That means that the only gun they have that can actually hurt Chaos warships has a range of less than 100 miles. 40k warships on the other hand have typical engagement ranges between tens of thousands of kilometres to several light seconds.
Now, in small group combat on the other hand... yeah, when you're a walking nuclear artillery platform (Nanoha) or boomer (Hayate, I still laugh at the scene in StrikerS where she needed targetting data from HQ because her over the horizon attacks were a bit rusty without Rein for backup) or have close combat speeds approaching the speed of sound (Fate and Signum), you're going to put some major hurt on just about anybody who isn't a member of the Swiss Guard.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Academia Nut wrote:Long term, probably not. The TSAB simply doesn't have the weaponry to launch a sustained conflict against Chaos, and while their Arc en Ceils are powerful enough to cause a shit pile of damage, the range is less than their area of effect so they actually have to jump their ships out immediately after firing, if I remember the official word correctly. That means that the only gun they have that can actually hurt Chaos warships has a range of less than 100 miles. 40k warships on the other hand have typical engagement ranges between tens of thousands of kilometres to several light seconds.
Now, in small group combat on the other hand... yeah, when you're a walking nuclear artillery platform (Nanoha) or boomer (Hayate, I still laugh at the scene in StrikerS where she needed targetting data from HQ because her over the horizon attacks were a bit rusty without Rein for backup) or have close combat speeds approaching the speed of sound (Fate and Signum), you're going to put some major hurt on just about anybody who isn't a member of the Swiss Guard.
Please, TELL ME that at least one of the Nanoha's "Walking WMD on a Miniskirt" will be seduced for the offers of Tzintchi and his fellow Warp Gods........
Oddly, i can guess that Vita it's the most likely to be tempted.....the chance to truly become alive, and an Adult?....that would be interesting....
And....it's a bit hard to use the WMD level madz skillz, specially if Chaos's response it's to use the method what the Alpha Legion favoured on the WH40K Verse...it's a wee bit hard to nuke cities on Mid-Childa(TSAB Homeworld) or their version of Earth, to kill Chaos Cultist Cells....
And as eye candy....a pic of "Demon Hayate" and underneath the links to the demonic versions of Fate and Nanoha, to inspire all....
Sincerely, Tzintchi it would see the TSAB, no better than the Federation on several aspects. The Chance to help countless Universes, a myriad of sentient beings, and they bloody act like cops? At most, he would be VERY interested on acquire samples and knowledge of the Intelligent Device/Armed Device systems, and specially about the Unison Devices, like Rein Swei and Agito....
The Idea of a Daemon Based version of Raising Heart or Assault Bardiche gives me the willies....
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
I prefer the non-loli versions, and anyway Fate is the only one remotely stripperiffic in the actual series, what with the fact that the creators seemed to prefer long skirts to bikinis.
And yeah, I'm going with the adult versions. The TSAB is going to need all the help they can get.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Academia Nut wrote:I prefer the non-loli versions, and anyway Fate is the only one remotely stripperiffic in the actual series, what with the fact that the creators seemed to prefer long skirts to bikinis.
And yeah, I'm going with the adult versions. The TSAB is going to need all the help they can get.
Ok.....although still would be nice to see the TSAB go apeshit after one of their own it's subverted by Chaos.
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
Hayate has a miniskirt in StrikerS, which is a bit of a concession to fan-service. Nanoha also has one, come to think of it. She has a really long jacket over it though. Really should have the non-loli versions though.
"preemptive killing of cops might not be such a bad idea from a personal saftey[sic] standpoint..." --Keevan Colton
"There's a word for bias you can't see: Yours." -- William Saletan
Hmm, Strikers? Well, as long as you have Subaru fight in this one, I'm on board. Chaos vs Magical Cyborgs? Oh wait, that is already 40K. Carry on, keep on making me smile, and my summer epic.
Dan's Art
Bounty on SDN's most annoying
"A spambot, a spambot who can't spell, a spambot who can't spell or spam properly and a spambot with tenure. Tough"choice."
Fragment of the Lord of Nightmares, release thy heavenly retribution. Blade of cold, black nothingness: become my power, become my body. Together, let us walk the path of destruction and smash even the souls of the Gods! RAGNA BLADE!
Lore Monkey | the Pichu-master™
Secularism—since AD 80
Av: Elika; Prince of Persia
After a long fight with work and sickness and Age of Conan and the fact that my place of employ is currently having a "Buy 3 books get the 4th free" deal that stacks with my employee discount, I present to you the next chapter.
Chapter Twelve: Toil
Anise stared at the computer terminal with weariness and some degree of self-disgust. Freya tried to console her, but was too tired and busy trying to keep their eyes open to be of much help. Still, the fact that her host was trying to calm her down was enough to get Anise to settle down a bit.
The Tok’ra were doomed, that was the only way to put it. They had not had an influx of fresh symbiotes in thousands of years, and with the confirmed death of Egeria a few years ago the Tok’ra had truly known that they were amongst the dying. The days of their species were numbered, and the truly sad thing was that their cousins had a chance of outliving them if they learned to keep their heads down. At least they had queens so they could propagate their numbers.
And there was nothing they could do about it.
Between Anise and Freya they were not quite sure where the thought came from, just that from the ether they suddenly were struck with an idea. An incredible idea that gave them pause for a moment.
They brought up the various genetic maps they had access to and began to look at them intently. Perhaps Egeria had one last gift to give the Tok’ra… yes… yes… she could see it now. It was all so simple…
Anise and Freya had been up for a long time already, but they suddenly had a burst of energy as they began to work, doing all of the things that would allow them to complete their idea. Not only did they have boundless energy, but all of the stumbling blocks they expected to meet crumbled as they worked, complex knots untangling before them. It was incredible.
As they worked, they never saw the shadow flickering across the room, or the way it seemed to be whispering to them, telling them the answers when they could not think of one, and when they left the theoretical and actually began mixing chemicals, the shadow seemed to make sure that everything worked the way it should… or in some cases the way it shouldn’t.
And then they had it. They had it in their hands. A serum that would, theoretically, transform a regular symbiote into a queen capable of reproducing and continuing the Tok’ra as a species. It would also help the Free Jaffa immeasurably, as Tretonin production was still lagging badly behind eventual demand, but access to friendly Tok’ra larva would help them to make the switch.
All that was needed was a test subject.
The shadow whispered into their minds, telling them that there was no better subject than them. For the briefest of moments their scientific instincts rebelled against the impulse, but those thoughts were quickly overwhelmed with a rush of pride and vanity. The serum was perfect! They had made it perfect, and their reward should be to become the new queen for the Tok’ra!
Before self-preservation instincts could kick in again, they downed the serum with one quick gulp.
Only once it was within their system did they realize that they had just made a huge mistake.
“Umm… I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but was there a mistake at the printers?” Nurlan asked meekly to the young woman assigned as the den mother for the hostage children. While Nurlan wasn’t amongst those who had regular contact with the children, the few women who had been allowed to remain as caregivers usually used him as an in between with their Chaos captors. The fact that most of them were so mutilated that it was impossible to tell their species probably had something to do with it.
The young woman, a master chief petty officer named Francine who apparently considered flaying herself repeatedly and wearing her own skin a fashion statement, looked at the items in question and asked, “Do you have a problem with Momma Will Kill for You or Oh the Things You’ll Crush?”
“Aren’t they a little violent for children?” Nurlan asked.
“Come on, we went to a lot of trouble to remember these books for the kids, and besides, they’re classics… sort of… I’ll admit they haven’t been around that long, but I mean, I read these books to my kids when they were babies,” Francine replied.
Nurlan blinked and looked at her before he asked, “You have children?”
“A boy and a girl so far, and I hope to have more when this tour is over,” Francine stated proudly.
“And you read to them about disembowelling people or how they could grow up to become warlords?” Nurlan asked, horrified.
“Who wouldn’t kill for their children or want them to grow up strong?” Francine asked, equally horrified in her own way.
“Well… uh… your culture is very different from ours. I don’t think even the Klingons are this violent,” Nurlan stated.
Shrugging, Francine replied, “We are who we are. We live in a world of emotion, and we feel everything so intensely. We love our children with every drop of our souls, and we will rain down with great anger and vengeance any who would attempt to poison or destroy our children. I devoted myself to Asukhon shortly after my first child was born, for she is the patron of young mothers and defender of babies and toddlers.”
“I thought she was a war god,” Nurlan asked, dredging up what little knowledge he had of these people’s macabre pantheon of deities.
Francine paused and thought for a moment before she said, “Imagine if you will an army of mother grizzly bears trying to get to their cubs, and you will get a small inkling of the way Asukhon and her followers wage war. Brutal, direct, and designed to put down as many motherfuckers as quickly as possible so that they will never, ever rise to threaten our cubs again.”
Nurlan was disquiet for a moment before he asked, “So what do you think about this whole abduction thing your superiors are doing?”
“I like it,” Francine said with a grin, showing off her sharpened teeth. “Your Federation needs a swift kick in the ass to remind them that some things are worth fighting for, worth dying for. I fight for my children, and I want to see others fight for their children, not just roll over and die, even if we’re on opposite sides,” Francine said.
“So you don’t think what I did was a good idea?” Nurlan inquired timidly.
“Are you kidding? Surrendering was the best option you had. There’s fighting ferociously with no holding back, and then there’s just being stupid. You’re still alive and your kids are still alive, that means you still have a chance of kicking the shit out of us one day and getting them the fuck away from us,” Francine said.
Nurlan furrowed his brows and said, “You love children and yet you agree with kidnapping them. You espouse violent action and yet speak of restraint. Are these not contradictory?”
Shaking her head, Francine said, “Your Federation really has cut off the balls of your people, hasn’t it? We don’t harm kids, we might use them as human shields, but we hate hurting them physical, emotional, or psychologically. We have some huge issues with that sort of thing. We believe that when you fight you shouldn’t hold anything back, but we believe that until you actually start to fight you should use restraint and careful judgement.”
Nurlan supposed that that made some sense, but he still could not really understand these creatures, they were like night and day to the culture of Federation. Where the Federation was calm, sober, and rational, these people were wild, mad, and insane. Of course, where the Federation was sluggish, detached, and sometimes downright apathetic towards things these creatures were quick, active, and passionate about everything they did.
Having given him a few moments to absorb that, Francine said, “Well, now that we have that issue sorted out, back to work with you.”
Sighing, Nurlan shouldered his pick-axe and said, “I’m going, I’m going, no need to get out the whip.”
Again, these people were paradoxical, in that while they had technology far beyond anything the Federation could even dream of, they also forced those they had abducted into brute manual labour and used lashing and beatings to get what they wanted. Although the manual labour bit was somewhat understandable as they had more bodies than mining gear and they were on a bit of a schedule.
The innermost moon of Syracuse was being mined out to provide more extensive habitation for the natives of the dying world. Already many of the primitive aliens were being transported off their world and brought to the habitats formerly inhabited by the Federation research team, or stationed aboard the Cardassian ships that had been captured. Still, that was a population of a few thousand out of millions, much more room was needed.
So they had begun to dig. Syracusans that could be trained received preferential treatment and usually got the better equipment, but as more gear was replicated it trickled down to the captured Federation personnel. Nurlan had refused any of the mining lasers or plasma cutters, saying that until everyone else had one he would suffer with them and swing a pick at the hard stone walls. It had been becoming frighteningly easier as time had worn on, and he knew that his body was being changed by the power of Chaos. Genetic engineering and even certain forms of genetic therapy was verboten in the Federation, and yet with no apparent mechanism these beings of Chaos were twisting his body into something new, something that could swing a pick axe hard enough and repeatedly enough that he was starting to outperform some of the people with advanced equipment.
It terrified him on a fundamental level.
It terrified him because not only was his body changing, but he was starting to like it, starting to enjoy the feeling of power rippling through his body as he drove his pick into the stone and watched it crumble before him. These creatures were trying to turn him into one of them.
And it was working.
Shortly after meeting with Prometheus and him giving them the technical and industrial plans for the fabrication of a form of personal body armour that could shrug off a staff weapon blast with a reasonable degree of success and would laugh at the armour piercing rounds of most personal weapons on Earth, the enigmatic creature had suggested that SG-1 take a return visit to P4X K79E.
After checking the planet with a MALP, the mission had been required as everyone wanted to know what the hell had happened to the world. It wasn’t everyday that a once temperate world became a barren wasteland with no apparent sun providing the scarlet illumination.
While the MALP’s sensors had not detected any toxic chemicals in the air, the members of SG-1 immediately wished that they had brought along full NBC gear, for the smell was revolting, the sort of iron and copper scent of spilled blood, but it permeated everything in sight. Everyone had immediately donned gas hoods just to be safe, but even those were insufficient to block out that cloying stench.
The ground had also changed, becoming hard, scorched glass that sliced at their boots. There were signs that some people had been walking on the ruined landscape in bare feet, leaving behind trails of blood. And there were a lot of trails, all leading in one direction. Following along, SG-1 rounded a hill and discovered just how horrific this world had become.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands, were labouring to craft some enormous effigy in the landscape, carving out an enormous pit in the rock in the shape of some sort of humanoid figure. Already a scaffold was going up over the pit, presumably the top half of whatever mould they were making. But only half the people were working on the mould, the rest were lining up, whipping themselves with cat-o-nine-tails and screaming out devotions as they approached the pit. And once they arrived at the pit they knelt upon a block of solid obsidian and had their heads swiftly cut off by an axe wielding executioner.
Somehow, that was not the worst part. After the headless corpses were drained of their blood they were hauled to the back of the line where the bodies began to twitch and regenerate, until finally the people gathered up the whips still clutched in their hands and got back in line to do it all over again. Repeatedly torturing someone to death and then resurrecting them with a sarcophagus was something that SG-1 could understand, but this self-inflicted monstrosity was so far beyond them…
“You like?” A voice behind them asked. Whirling about, weapons at the ready, they discovered a bizarre, grotesque creature had somehow just appeared behind them. It was… it was… it…
It wasn’t actually attacking them, just staring at them with a strange, almost child-like expression. That was a start at least as their brains tried to process what exactly they were seeing.
Finally, after several seconds of staring agape at it, the details began to work out. The only relatively constant thing about the creature was that it was a humanoid skeleton about five metres tall, although it was hunched down to stare at their level. Rather than being solid though, the individual bones were made out of collections of skulls or parts of skulls, all stained blood red. The skulls were fused into solid masses in places and lashed together in others with long, grotesque tongues that continued to twitch and writhe. Overlaying these ‘bones’ were various muscles and tissue that only seemed to appear when they were needed, materializing out of thin air and decaying away when no longer required. Only the face seemed to stick around for long, but even then the flesh seemed to have been stapled onto the head.
For a long moment there was silence as the creature stared at them curiously before it frowned and said, “You don’t like. You don’t like momma’s work.”
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
good fix! Another highly entertaining chapter. I hope you'll allow me to consult you one day for a potential UPF chapter
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little." -George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting." -Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
I'm suspecting that Reigle was behind that manipulation of Anise.
I'm looking forward to see more of everything, there are so much possibilities.
For example:
- I would like to see more of how they will screw around with Buffy-verse.
- "Class we have four new students." - a lot of possible universes, and certainly something Kyon don't want to hear.
- The British invasion game is also something I'm looking forward to.
- Post-visit reactions from the canon EVA verse.
- A play headgames on the emo game.
Hmm... now, the question is, which thread to pick up for the next chapter?
1.) Keep with SG-1, and pick up in the latter half Nanoha (tentative title "Kids")
2.) My utterly evil idea for Buffy
3.) Start up the British Invasion, although I still have no idea what to give Reigle (anyone know any good stories in Britian involving plagues and the like?)
4.) Have the Feddies trying to come up with an adequate response to the Stiletto while balancing the shit going on with the Cardassians and the Founders
5.) Open up a new front to test out their fighter technology. I'm thinking Macross Frontier for that one. Sure, the 40k type fighters don't have anywhere near the manueverability of Macross ones, but that's because their linear acceleration makes it both impossible and a moot point anyway
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen. You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
Academia Nut wrote:3.) Start up the British Invasion, although I still have no idea what to give Reigle (anyone know any good stories in Britian involving plagues and the like?)
I seem to recall the movie version of V for Vendetta was a plague of some kind. The other possibility is a movie called "Doomsday", which involves both plagues and britian. 28 days later, I take it, was the one Asuka was calling "angry plague bearing zombies."
Would vampirism count as a virus? Also, there are a shitload of zombie universes that Reigle would have a blast in. There's also the movie universe that had the 'Andromeda Strain', which would be funny if Reigle used it to make jokes with the scientists through the use of the laboratories computers in that universe. 'I Am Legend' wouldn't be that fun or useful a universe for Reigle though.
That said, I vote for option number one. I so wish to see SG1's reactions to having a conversation with a literal daemon, if not a direct avatar of Asukhon herself.
This is sickening... You sound like chapters from a self-help booklet! Prepare yourselves!
"preemptive killing of cops might not be such a bad idea from a personal saftey[sic] standpoint..." --Keevan Colton
"There's a word for bias you can't see: Yours." -- William Saletan
