Providence [open]

[Tally]

The wolves stayed away.  They were afraid of the Dragon.

Temple could still see them milling around at the edge of the tree line.  They didn't dare come closer, but they didn't want to leave either because Providence was perched on a great jut of cliff above their water supply.  It was a cloudy little pool, barely more than a puddle, but it was all they had.

From his vantage on Providence's back, Temple could see from horizon to horizon.  Far below lay the pool of dirty water, and a ways beyond that squatted the pitiful remains of some abandoned outpost.  Weed-choked and crumbling, it might have sheltered a few diseased rejects, but nothing important enough to warrant the attention of a Pilot.  Investigations in the past hadn't turned up anything of interest.

Surrounding it all was what passed as a forest, with the gaunt, hairless wolves weaving restlessly through twisted trees.  Their whining carried through the thick silence and cut at the air.

You are troubled, Providence said into his mind.  You worry about things that are none of your concern.

It's not so easy to let go of, Temple said.  He had his air filter mask on; it covered the lower half of his face and made physical speech difficult.  He held his helmet in his lap.  It's a mortal's nature to worry.  Above him clouds raced by in an overcast sky, and he tried to lose his mind in the perpetual motion of it.  A Pilot spent years learning to keep conscious thoughts under tight control.  It felt wrong to attempt otherwise now.  It felt like trying to sleep standing up.  But that was partly why he was out here in the first place, so he could think about things he wouldn't dare think about while in Haviah.

They are mortal as well.  And as they are mortal, so will they eventually make a fatal mistake.  It is inevitable.  The Dragons need only wait for these rebels to betray themselves.

And there was the problem.  Temple had certain...suspicion s about certain other Pilots, but the Dragons didn't operate on suspicion or intuition.  They operated on facts.  They were eternal.  The rebel Pilots were to them as insects were to humans—only something to be concerned about when and if they made themselves an obvious nuisance.

Until then, Temple would indulge his suspicions.  The no man's land between mortal inference and mechanical fact got him lost every time.  He sighed and tried to let his mind wander with the clouds.

And that's when Providence died.

It was like going blind.  It was like the sun going out and taking all light away forever.  He reeled.  It all happened in an instant, a wave of electromagnetic energy rushing over him and in the same moment Providence was gone.  His mind clawed for that vast, cold consciousness and found nothing.

And they were falling.  Limp, Providence toppled from the cliff.  The world spun, Temple grasped at the harness, at the Dragon, at thin air.  His mouth screamed wordlessly and  his mind screamed Providence!  ProvidenceProvidenc ePROVIDENCE!!

An impact, and then blackness.

The pain in his head brought him back.  Stabbing, shooting, knifing through him.  Racing clouds filled his vision, but it was all black around the edges.  His whole body hurt.  Ah, he was wet.  Was it blood or water?  Didn't matter.  Providence.  Providence mattered.

"P...Pr..."  His mouth, it felt thick and full of cotton.  It didn't want to work right.  Move, he had to move, to get to Providence.  He shifted, dragging himself, pulling and pushing and trying to work limbs that felt feathery and light.  One hand found his Dragon's neck and he hauled himself close, moaning as the motion sent a fresh wave of agony rippling along his nerves.  In his head a mantra went out, pleading, seeking:  Wake up wake up Providence, say something.  Say something say something, come back Providence, come back now please come back Providence Providence Providence.

A low growl came from somewhere.  Through darkening, blotchy vision he glimpsed slim forms ghosting back and forth across his line of sight.  The wolves paced, losing their fear swiftly, the smell of healthy, bloody flesh working them into a frenzy.  But it would be okay.  He would be okay because Providence...Provid ence was a Dragon, and Dragons didn't die.  Dragons were eternal.

"Wh...where are you," he murmured, pressing his face against the metal plate of Providence's neck.

[Anonymous]

A young girl with brown hair and violet eyes looked down at the pilot and his dragon who appeared dead she knelt next to him placing her fingers on his neck feeling a pulse. One of the wolves lunged at her she shot it a death glare and it went whimpering off with it's tal between it's legs the others watching her keenly. "What'd doing Mara?" a male voice ask the girl turned around to see a raven haired boy about 16 with  a  girl about 15 behind him the emerald eyes quickly went to the injured pilot "what happened here" the boy asked. "hurt " the girl said "I can see that Mar" the boy answered  "Alright what's going on here" another male voice said as a red haired boy about 17 appeared followed by a pinked haired girl about 10. "Mara found this guy He's pretty banged up from what I can tell" Ryoshi replied ,"Hurt" the girl repeated looking up at the gold eyed older boy. Kasai smiled and gently placed his hand on the girl's head  he said as the brown haired girl knelt by the dragon "well Mara" he asked the girl shook her head. "Can I eat it?" the girl with the pink hair asked "No Kalulu you may not" the redhead answered. "Let's go back, Ryo can you carry this guy" Kasai said it wasn't a question. "yeah I guess" the inky haired teen replied lifting the body up and placing it on his back. the three other Kumori zipped back to the abandoned warehouse they were usig as shelter. Ryoshi stayed as he walked over to where his younger sister was still kneeling by the dead dragon "Come on Mar let's go back there's nothing we can do for it " he said gently taking his sister's hand as they zipped back to the building. Once there Ryo laid the injured pilot on one of the matresses they had stolen "Alright Mara he's all yours" he said and back off giving the brown haired girl some room. Mara dipped a cloth in a basin of warm water and began to gently wipe the blood of her patient's head and wrapped in a bandage once that was done she began to build a fire setting an old kettle filled with water on it, she then took a small bowl and began mashing herbs all the while her distant violet eyes wtaching the pilot.

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Um how old is your charry? cuz' I can't just keep calling him pilot


clickey to learn more on my charries
http://http://remnants.spiritsoftheearth.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=199

[Anonymous]

After the disappearance of those strangers, the wolves came back, waiting to dine on the now-deceased dragon. But then they felt an unbelievable aura emanating from somewhere, and that made them scatter. Stepping out towards the deceased dragon was a tall, muscular man with a giant scythe and a greatsword strapped to his back cross-style.

He had borne witness to the dragon's death from far away. In fact, he had experienced the electromagnetic surge firsthand. Since his left arm and left eye were now just machines, the feeling had not been pleasant at all. It had scrambled the systems and left him blind in the left eye for awhile, but they had recovered shortly after. He had seen the look of terror on the Pilot's face as the dragon that controlled him had its life ruthlessly cut short. Without the dragon, the Pilot would go mad.

Such a sight amused Jonah Azrael, the Ryoujin.

He then looked at the dragon's lifeless body and his left eye went to work, scanning the dragon's vitals.

BIO-SCAN AND MECHANOID SCAN COMPLETE

TARGET DRAGON IS NOW DECEASED

SCANS INDICATE MASSIVE ELECTROMAGNETIC TRAUMA AT THE TIME OF DRAGON'S DEATH. BLUNT PHYSICAL TRAUMA IS ALSO APPARENT.

LIFE SIGNS ARE AT A FLATLINE

NO REGENERATIVE PROCESS ENACTED

ALL MECHANICAL FUNCTIONS HAVE CEASED

RESURRECTION DOES NOT APPEAR LIKELY

So read the text inside his eye. Jonah smirked. These disgraces of the true dragons, no matter how powerful they are, still cannot predict the raw power of nature.

This satisfied Jonah. Now to burn the body.

A high-pitched whistling sound pierced the air. Then, in an instant, the dragon was engulfed in flames. The heat was so intense that the metal components of the dragon began to glow, then slowly melt and fuse. Slowly, but surely, the dragon's body was being turned to ash and molten metal.

It didn't matter to Jonah if it was metal, dragon scales, or the entire empire of Aedolis...there was nothing his flames cannot burn.

Before leaving, Jonah left his mark in front of the burning dragon...a demonic skull, whose eyes seemed to stab repeatedly at the mind, with a sword and a scythe behind it in the form of an "X", so that whoever found it would know he was here. The flames that made it were extinguishable only by his hand. But by the time the maddened Pilot would find it, Jonah would be long gone.

And so he left, intending for the flames to burn for days.

[Tally]

I think...I'm bleeding.  A lot...

Maybe dying?  Yes, he thought so.  Reality was fading all around him.  Even the pain was going, and that was such a relief because he'd never felt such physical agony in his life.  Broken ribs, head trauma, and it felt like something had stabbed through his abdomen.  If he died, he'd be numb, wouldn't he?  No more pain, no more...no more of the emptiness in his head...

The only solid thing was Providence, cold metal and flesh that was still warm.  Nothing else seemed to exist.  There were the wolves, a choir of snarling beasts, and other things, too—noises like human speech and thought patterns that snagged in his mind like wind-swept debris caught in a tree's branches.  People?  All the way out here?

But these things hardly felt real.  They were all so far away from him, and getting farther, because he had a sense he was falling away from the world, falling down and down to where Providence was.  Yes, let him go there, to that place.  Even in blackness it would be okay.  Anything would be better than this feeling like his mind was collapsing in on itself without his dragon's intellect there to hold it up.

Hands were on him, pulling at him.  Pulling him away from Providence!  No!  He curled his fingers around the edge of a metal neck plate and fought but there was just no strength left in him, and he was ripped away from his dragon.

Without that keystone there to hold it up, his mind crumbled inexorably into unconsciousness.

[Anonymous]

Mara finished mashing the herbs and mixed them with water , holding the bowl to the young man’s mouth she slowly poured the contents down his throat. His body swallowing reflexively. Getting up she retrieved  an old blanket from the corner and placed it over the unconscious figure. She heard footsteps behind her and she turned to see her brother talking to Kesai.
“Well I went back to the dragon like you asked it was burnt to a crisp and it‘s still burning‘� Ryu explained

 â€œHmm I seeâ€? the red haired leader sighed “ well then there’s nothing we can do now Lulu. Irene and I are going to buy some supplies stay here with Mara and that guy and if he tries anything you know what to doâ€? he added and walked out joining the two others that were waiting for him. Ryu walked over to his younger sister and put his hand on her shoulder

“Well he looks better than when you found him� Mara turned to him and smiled which lit up her normally emotionless expression, there were very few people that could make her smile. Ryu’s eyes soften as he patted his sister’s head he loved it when his sister smiled it proved that she was still alive and not some emotionless shell. His eyes hardened again looking at the unconscious form watching as his sister gently wrapped the pilot's ribs and chest.

[Rhi-Rhi]

What the fuck are people doing out here?!

Those were Cyrus' thoughts when he was snapped awake by a scream and the crash that followed, and for a moment panic gripped him before he wrestled it back, refusing to let it claim him, refusing to let the sense of failure and guilt take hold before he even knew what the fuck was going on. Aw shit, he'd screwed up royally. He shouldn't have taken that break. He shouldn't have let himself nod off. It was a stupid enough move as it was, alone on the outskirts of the Upper City with nothing but wolves for company, even if he wasn't stupid enough not to take shelter in one of the abandoned buildings. He should have known better. He shouldn't have blown off this assignment.

But he hadn't known there were people out here!

All he'd seen were the wolves.

He'd even shot one earlier that day when it came skulking a bit too close for comfort, put the poor deformed thing out of its misery as he saw it. The things were everywhere, and he gave them a wide, respectful berth as he patrolled the area. Be on the lookout for any people hiding out. Report anything odd. Keep an eye on the skies for any Dragons, just in case; hadn't had trouble with that stuff before, but it didn't hurt to be paranoid. So he'd wandered around the area, poked his head into a bunch of buildings, and everything was so insanely the same and as deserted as the million other times he'd been here that...yeah, boredom kicked in. Plus he was still sort of hungover from the night before, so a quick nap couldn't hurt, right? Pass the time. What could go wrong?

Famous last words. The answer? Fucking everything!

Cyrus threw the door open and stumbled out of the building, cursing loudly. Sounded like it came from the one place he didn't check, which was the other side of the damned cliff with the murky pool those mutts likes to hang around. Of course. No time to waste, he yanked his pistol free of its holster, checked the safety, and took off running. He pulled his communicator out of his pocket as he went and flipped it on. "Guys, it's Cyrus, I need back-up, I think there's someone out here and--oh you gotta be shittin' me."

That was when he realized the thing was dead.

He uttered a slew of curses and pocketed it again--he planned on banging the hell out of it to get to work once he had a chance to--but continued on his way, almost there. He could see smoke rising and even through his protective mask he could smell the rancid scent of burning machinery and...

...Flesh?

Shitshitshitshit!

It felt like forever before he finally got there, and by that time he was gagging from the stench while silently praying for the impossible--that he wasn't too late. Fire blazed before him, engulfing a mess of something, and for a second he wanted to be simultaneously horrified by his failure and disgusted by the sight, before horror took a firm hold when it finally dawned on him just what was burning.

A Dragon.

It had been hard to tell at first, already so far destroyed, but his eye caught a flash of talon and the curl of a tail and he made a strangled sound against his will and leaped back away from it as though it were still alive, even though he was already a good fifteen feet away. A fucking Dragon! WHAT THE HELL?! He takes a nap for what, fifteen minutes and there are fucking DRAGONS here! He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he looked up and scanned the sky, bonde hair sticking to the beads of sweat collecting on his skin (from the heat, not nerves, really!), and he made another futile attempt at getting the damned communicator to work, wanting to warn the others back at the city. No go. Dead. It had been working before his nap!

Wait.

The scream.

...Where the hell was its PILOT?!

Oh shit. Cyrus took a deep, calming breath. Right. The skies looked clear save for the clouds, he was without a link back, so he just had to do what he could do here with the Dragons and shit he actually knew about. He leaned forward a little and squinted through the flames, trying to make out anything he could, but it only hurt his eyes. Oh shit. He saw something that could have been a melted helmet near one of the claws, but it could have just been paranoia kicking in, too. The Pilot was either burning with the Dragon, or he'd managed to crawl away somewhere. He hoped for the former, but hope sure wasn't enough to go on.

Aside from the crackle of flames, it was disturbingly quiet and still. Even the wolves had cleared out, thank goodness. Cyrus drew another deep breath, kept his ears open, and began to make a slow circle around the Dragon, inspecting the dusty ground for footprints, blood, marks that would point to someone either crawling away or getting dragged off--maybe the wolves got him if he hadn't burned. It was when he got to the Dragon's other side that he saw them: a mass of footprints, some rather small, which then lead off through the dust and weeds.

...So there were other Pilots? But...the small ones...what the hell?

Whatever. By the time he went back to the city to get back-up and came back here, they'd probably be gone. No time to chicken out. He adjusted his hand on the pistol, glad he was wearing gloves or it'd be all slippery in his hand, and set off.

The trail lead to an old warehouse. Cyrus paused outside and listened, and he could hear faint voices coming from the inside. One of them sounded female and...young? No time to stall further, if there was a Pilot in there then he had to be fucked up judging by that wreck, and as for the others? He'd climb that mountain when he got to it.

With a grunt he kicked the door open and immedietely aimed, ready to pull the trigger, but the sight that met him nearly made him drop it altogether. Not from nerves this time, but because he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to palm his forehead.

Yes, there was the Pilot. If the uniform didn't name him, his banged up state did. And then there were the kids. He'd told them off before--maybe not these ones, but he'd had to tell off a lot of dumb kids for playing outside and without masks, too! They were around the injured Pilot; the girl was wrapping his chest, and he was obviously unconscious. Cyrus gaped at them for a moment, flabbergasted, before his mouth was able to work again.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!" he shouted, stomping into the room. "Get away from him! He's a bloody Pilot! You--"

The klaxon sounded. Pilot approaching. Repeat, Pilot approaching the Upper City from the southeast. He's coming in fast. ETA in 15 minutes. We're holing up in five. Get inside or get caught. Cyrus' hot blood chilled. For fuck's sake...

"Get out of here. Get underground, now," he told the kids. They were more than five minutes out from the main city, but there were still emergency routes out here, entrances to the underground and a mass of tunnels and routes you could traverse to reach the Lower City if you knew which way to go. A lot of them were blocked and old, so it was easy to get lost. Cyrus had familiarized himself with them, though they'd probably end up waiting around underground for a while until the city opened up. No time to get back to his jeep and drive off. He just hoped the Pilot would overlook it; he'd covered it with weeds. "There's an old tower across from here. You can get underground there, a busted up TV's over the entrance. Meet me down there. Go."

The injured Pilot he considered for a moment. Unconscious, bloody as hell, couldn't be let here for the other Pilot to find him and take him home. Cyrus considered putting him out of his misery once the kids were out with a quick shot to the head--he could just tell the kids he'd died on his own--but he thought against it as soon as the idea came to him. Instead, he holstered his pistol, stooped, and hauled the limp Pilot up and over his shoulder, not caring if he aggitated any broken bones. Not like he was awake to feel it and hell, he'd been thinking about killing him a second ago.

If the Pilot lived, he'd be more useful alive than dead.

Glad for the guy's slight build because dead weight was a pain and he wouldn't have been able to do this with a buff dude, he stumbled as quickly as he could out of the warehouse and to the tower, slipped inside, and crawled down through the opening first before reaching up to pull the Pilot down with him. There he rested for a moment, panting, and for once in his life he was actually glad for all those army drills where he'd been forced to run around with copious amounts of weight, even if he'd wanted to kill his instructor at the time.

[Kinda rushed toward the end. xD]

[Tally]

OOC: LPS, whoo

The fire was visible for miles away, a thick column of black smoke rising then spreading beneath the clouds.

"Hurry, Scher," he said, the display on the inside of his visor magnifying the area, flashing stats at him regarding altitude, terrain, weather.

"Oh, is that what I should do?" Her mental voice was dry.  "So glad you're here to tell me these things."

When the automated warning had blared in his headset, they'd been wheeling along the coast and had turned immediately.  Scheherazade was among the fastest dragons and she poured the speed on to get to the coordinates—and, he hoped, to Providence.  Upon her back, Roman crouched low, keeping half his attention on their destination and half on the Network alerts scrolling in his visor view.  It was a tense moment for both of them.  A dragon had died and no one knew why, and he had no idea what they were flying into.  Satellite feeds kept Scheherazade informed of any threat from the ground for a five hundred mile radius in any direction.

Into air thick with smoke they flew, and he didn't need words to tell him what Scheherazade intended.  As she streamed downward toward the source of the fire, Roman sucked in a deep breath of air.  Just in time.  She didn't hesitate, zipping in a wide, low circle around the burning core, breathing a ring of dragonfire around it then soaring upward.  Roman was no mage, but he felt the thrum of old magic vibrating against his mind and had to turn his face away as the ring of fire glowed candent, white-hot.  A cyclone of wind rent the air and all Roman could do was cling to Scheherazade's back with his head down, chest burning, unable to breath as every stray molecule of oxygen was burned away.

When the roaring subsided, Roman was able to look down at last, sucking in lungfuls of breath.  Denied oxygen, both fires had died, leaving only stray, red tongues licking at the breeze.  There, half-burned, crumbled at the base of a cliff, lay the body of a familiar silver dragon.

"We alone?"

"We are," Scheherazade said, taking them down.  They landed right before Providence's charred body, leaves and dust and twigs raining down as the wind died and released all the debris from the sky.  After sliding down from Scheherazade's back Roman took his helmet off and shook his air out.  The air filter over the lower half of his face he kept on.  He sighed, one hand on his hip as he took in the state of the dead dragon and the surroundings.

No sign of Temple, and the gale would have destroyed any markings or footprints left behind.  Not that there was anyone near here to track.  Scheherazade's scans would have picked up any heat signatures beyond wildlife.

So.  What could kill a dragon instantaneously, giving no warning and no chance of defense and retaliation?  Roman could think of only one thing.

Tossing his helmet to the ground, Roman picked his way across smoking ground to kneel before Providence's immense head.  Newer models were nearly always larger than older ones, and Providence was massive, more than twice Scheherazade's size though not so big as Absolute.  The fire had consumed mostly the last half of the dragon's body, leaving head, neck, and chest almost whole.  Hopefully the thing Roman was looking for would be somewhere in the untouched region.

Roman pulled his gloves off and began at the tip of Providence's snout while Scheherazade settled down to wait.  Some questioned why dragons even needed humans and here was one reason: with his small, dexterous human hands Roman was able to run his hands over every groove and curve of Providence's body in a way no dragon could ever match.  By it's very nature, the thing he sought was undetectable through any digital or heat scanning means Aedolis had.  If it was to be found, it would be by touch.

He missed nothing, even prying Providence's mouth open and feeling along the inside of his jaw, under his tongue and up agianst the roof of his mouth.  He felt under every metal plate, along every plane and edge and in every port and seam, working his way over the head and down the neck.  It was half an hour by the time his exhaustive search reached the dragon's shoulders, and Roman's legs were aching from being in a constant crouch.  He didn't stop, though.  Just kept on, working in silence, trusting Scheherazade to watch his back.  She was oddly quiet.  This unpleasantness had even her on edge and irritable.  And why not?  If he was right, she had good reason to be grave, and every Pilot would have good reason to step lightly around the dragons.  Even more so than—

He froze, his hand upon the inside of Providence's right front leg.  Scheherazade's attention snapped to him, alerted by his thoughts.  By feel he explored the object, wedged between the grooves of two muscle augments.  It should not have been there.  It resisted like a magnet when he pulled it off and up into view.

Looking at it, he wondered if maybe he'd been wrong.  It was...a marble.  Or at least it looked like one, just a little bigger and blue in color.

"Bring that here," Scheherazade said.  Her voice box had been damaged decades ago, before Roman was even born, and her voice now held the slight, cold echo of digitized sound.

"I'm not sure it's what we're looking for," he said, trudging back and holding it up before her.  Large, artificial eyes scanned the image, reading things about it he couldn't even see.  Those eyes then speared him in place.

"No.  That's it.  Relinquish it."

Roman peered at the little thing.  There didn't seem much to it.  He'd seen EMP devices before, and they never looked like this.  That was the only thing he knew that could kill a dragon in this manner.  An electromagnetic pulse, a high-intensity burst of energy that knocked out electronic equipment.  For a creature that was half machine, such a thing would be instantly fatal.  For a creature that wasn't a dragon of Aedolis.  There were safeguards in place, both magical and mundane, to protect them from such a thing.  The only person anywhere with knowledge of how to get around those safeguards...

...would be a Pilot.

"I'd rather hand it off to Soren—"

"Relinquish it immediately," she said.  It was odd for her to give him a direct order.  It almost shocked him, for she hadn't spoken to him like that in years.  He handed the small object over, and it disappeared into a containment compartment  within the wrist joint of her clawed paw.

"I have already summoned a retrieval crew.  They will be here shortly.  Mount up."

Maybe she was more irritable than he'd thought.  The two of them soared in wide circles while awaiting the salvage ship.  It came with an escort of some half a dozen dragons and Scheherazade herself oversaw the loading of what remained of Providence's body.  What they would do with him was not Roman's business.  The dragons saw to their own.

When the salvage ship was secure, it and Scheherazade swung around and made for Aedolis.  The other dragons stayed behind, running sweeps.  Searching for Temple, or for what remained of him.  For Roman, Temple's absence was more worrying than the strange EMP device.  His remains hadn't been in the fire, his body hadn't been near Providence's.  His headset had a satellite positioner installed; if his dead body were anywhere they would have found it.  Which meant he was alive.  But why leave Providence?  And where was he now?

"We will require every Pilot in the Axis Point," Scher told him.  "You and Pilot Dyerlich will go first."

"Right," he pathed back.  Nothing less than he'd expected.

[Tally]

Thread complete!

Continuance here >> A Pilot in Teinar

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