With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
07:31 GMT -6

"…President Horne getting a surprising degree of traction in Colorado."

"I…" I nod my head to the side. The gesture will be lost over the radio, but increasing numbers of people watch over the internet these days. "I think it's really more that… With me here… People are willing to look beyond their customary party loyalties and examine the actual content of his platform." I raise my hands. "Though I want to be clear-."

My interviewer raises her pencil-thin eyebrows sceptically. "You're not campaigning for the President."

"Just so. I-."

"Every time you get an interview and promote the President, you say you're not campaigning."

I shrug. "The President is what people ask me about. You can ask me about Senator N-."

"Senator Knight. Since you can't seem to remember his name from one interview to the next."

"I was going to say Senator Northrup Bristol…" I frown. "He's still in the running, isn't he?"

"He's still on the ballot paper, but he can't get enough delegates to win the nomination."

And she knows that I'm messing about. I nod to concede the point, and decide that it's time to retire that joke. Senator Bristol didn't have much of a following, even amongst the arch-conservatives who might be considered his natural followers, largely because he sounded dangerously close to wanting to give certain parts of his social ideals… An undue amount of legal authority. Fault-only divorce was one of his more sensible policies.

"You can ask me about my dealings with Senator Knight if you like, but it won't take very long."

"Okay then. What dealing have you had with Senator Knight?"

"Basically none." I shrug. "I arranged for his protection when Doctor Cochin tried to carry out his coup, and I've been on the periphery of a few discussions he and the President were part of, but that's about it. I don't think we've exchanged more than a dozen words. You see; I can only tell you about the interactions I've actually had with people, so anything I say on the subject is naturally going to focus on President Horne. But you can ask me about anything else."

"Alright then." She turns to the… Internet text-channel thing. "Have you got anything to say about rumours you're dating a horse?"

"No, no. Completely ridiculous."

"Because they've got pictu-."

"Princess Luna is a pony, not a horse. A horse would be taller. Also, she's from a parallel universe where ponies are intelligent. Really, it's no more weird than me dating a human would be. Also, she went from trying to stab me to dating me, a dramatic improvement on the order in my previous relationship."

Her expression suggests that she doesn't quite know how to take that. Jade's doing… I hesitate to call it 'good' work in Africa, but certainly 'productive' and 'beneficent'. Their politicians are mostly-. I should say, their surviving politicians are mostly honest, and we're making progress with their industry. The continent as a whole has never been more stable or principled and Lex is building so many spaceships without having to worry about first world spies.

"So.. I.. understand that you send your children to a public school."

I fro-. "Oh! Oh, sorry. Ah. In Britain a 'public' school is one you can attend regardless of where you live or what religion you practise. They're still private organisations, rather than public services." I nod. "Yes, all my children attend our local school. Since none of them had what you might call.. normal childhoods, I thought that improving their social skills and.. helping them make connections in the local community was the most important consideration."

"That implies you don't think very highly of the quality of the school's teaching."

"No, no, that's… I'm in the fortunate position to have good relations with the genomorphs. I employ a lot of them in Challenger Mountain and I've been involved in helping them find their feet in human society. So it really wasn't that difficult to have a lot of the purely rote learning stuff telepathically inserted into my children's minds. That's a service the genomorphs offer commercially, and since my younger children would have been so far behind their peers otherwise it seemed wise to avail ourselves of it."

"So between the genomorphs teaching them facts and the school teaching them how to use it, you've covered all of your bases."

I nod. "Nearly. I had to cover a couple of things myself. There aren't a lot of New Gods on Earth, so I had to teach Lynne the New God specific things myself. Likewise, my younger children have a tutor for their own arcane abilities. And since American schools are so reticent in that area, I had to cover sex education myself. Which was a little bit awkward, because I had no prior knowledge of how sanitary pads or.. tampons worked, until I needed to find out for my younger girls. If you're a boy, British sex education just skips right past that stuff-. Or at least it did when I was in school."

"You..? Ah, you didn't get sex education from… On Apokolips?"

"Sort of. That was a five minute aside from my father's chief torturer during my physiology lectures."

Confirmed by the late and unlamented Father Box.

"I can't say it really stuck out? And that wouldn't have covered 'feminine hygiene' anyway; female New Gods can consciously control their fertility and so have no need for that sort of thing. But when I was growing up in Britain during my 'second childhood', I didn't remember any of that."

"A lot of American parents don't want schools to teach their children about sex in case it encourages them to become sexually active before they're ready to deal with the emotional and physical consequences. How do you feel about that?"

"Well… I'm…" I shrug. "Just used to it being part of the curriculum. And.. it certainly didn't make me sexually precocious. But that's a.. wider difference between Europe and America, you know; collective responsibility versus individual responsibility. In Europe it's considered completely natural to make sure that children get a basic education on how their bodies work in school, along with education on everything else. I think… Some parents withdrew their children from those particular lessons, but it was a pretty small number. But in America it's seen as a big deal… So… Fine; you're responsible for your own children. If you don't want to delegate that responsibility then it's your job as parents to make sure they have the information they need presented in the proper context. I don't have a problem with that, either, and like to think that I've discharged mine in a reasonably competent manner."

She nods. "I see. And what sort of age do you think a parent ought to explain things to their children?"

"The explanations children get for things get… More complex as they get older. But I'd say that the very basics of how the reproductive organs work, it probably makes sense to tell them that as early as possible. 'This is what your heart does, this is where poop comes from, this is what your genitals do.'"

"Ooh."

"Because that way you're not making it sound like it's a taboo subject. You're not drawing any particular emphasis to it, and at that sort of age they're not going to take in the details anyway. If it's not a taboo subject, not only will they not feel embarrassed about asking you questions, it won't be anything like as interesting."

She sits back in the chair.

"I.. think we're going to get some calls about this."

"Good show, but while I don't really have a problem giving the talk to… Just about anyone, I really think… Children, if you're listening? The best ports of call actually are your parents, not phoning a radio program. I know it's weird and awkward, but they've almost certainly been through whatever you're going through, but long enough ago that they've got some perspective on it."

"OkayIthinkthat'senoughonthattopic! Ah. Let's try something nice and uncontroversial, like gun control."

"Ah, alright? To the best of my knowledge, President Horne's position is that the Second Amendment is pretty clear on the subject, and the Federal Government shouldn't be infringing on people's right to bear arms."

"His.. voting record as a Senator and his speeches tell a rather different story."

"The fact that he personally doesn't like private gun ownership doesn't change his reading of the Constitution. It's like free speech: 'I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it'. He is very unlikely to spend any time while in office removing restrictions because he likes living in a country where those restrictions exist, but he isn't going to make more because he doesn't think he has the authority."

"Okay! Well, ah… This is Karolyn McDermott for DCNN, and we'll be… We'll be right back after these messages. … Probably."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
08:38 GMT -5

Brother Abednego looks mildly puzzled. "Who be that?"

New Plymouth's parliament building is constructed like a fortress. The interior walls are painted in dull, sombre tones, and the walls are decorated with pictures of long dead parliamentarians and metal warding-plates. The actual debate chamber is more similar in shape to the US senate or the Scottish Assembly than the House of Commons; arcs of seats facing a central point. I think that probably comes from the fact that early in they didn't really have political parties; everyone was just too glad to have survived Melmoth for that sort of tribalism to have emerged.

"Christopher Columbus? Italian explorer working for the Spanish crown?"

"I know the man not. The hell-fiend Melmoth was not given to preserving our history for our benefit. Even our knowledge of the Lord Christ comes to us only by chance; only two Bibles were held by our forebears when he stole them away from their homes."

Diana and Dr. Balewa are talking with their head of state, Lord-Protector Judah. The rest of us are… Not exactly under guard, but I've noticed that there are more than a few witch-hunters around.

And that most of them are carrying injuries.

"So… Who is it that your country is named after?"

"Saint Columba of Ireland, who preached to the heathens of Scotland and converted them to the worship of the Lord. As we ourselves came upon a strange and unchristian land and made it a place of God." For a moment he looks uncertain. "That is… I should not question, but I foolishly did not think to purchase a tome on the lives of the saints while we were upon your Earth."

Ring?

"Yes, that's right. And if we establish a trading relationship, we can certainly include literature on the history of Christianity."

Abednego smiles. "T'would be a glorious thing, for all that you're a pagan damned to hellfire."

"You're welcome. You're impressively adaptable, for a man with the colour vision God gave a bat."

He looks away for a moment, taking in the walls.

"Tis true, we're not much given to frivolity, but I testify unto thee that mine eyes see just as clearly as thine. I feel the joy of colours when I look upon the natural world which God gave unto Adam, and feel no need to parody the good Lord's work with profane creations."

I nod at the witch-hunter shadowing Major Adams. His arm is in a sling.

"What's with all the walking wounded?"

"Witch-hunters are right busy folk. When our Lord-Protector called for our service, only those such as myself who walk as synchronicity pilgrims, or who were at the hospital here in New Plymouth could answer his call."

…

He's warded of course, and sheeda/human hybrids raised as puritans don't appear to have quite the body language I've been trained to read. Still, that sounded a lot like a lie to me.

"How do your elections work?"

"The business is naught too complex. Each five years every town and area of countryside elects a representative, who meet in the chamber to debate matters of import. The Lord-Protector is in turn elected by their number, to rule us and guide us."

"There are no permanent members?"

He frowns. "I don't follow your meaning."

"In Britain, at the time your forebears were abducted, our parliament had a second chamber. Its members were mostly hereditary, with a small number of bishops and judges providing spiritual and legal advice."

"'Bishops'? We have naught to do with that papist rot. Our church is overseen by a council of elders. And no, we have no lords but the Lord."

"Do you actually know what a 'papist' is?"

"Tis an object?" He looks mildly surprised. "I trow it be a synonym for wrong-headed and heretical."

"You really did lose the history of Christianity, didn't you?"

He nods. "As I spake unto you-."

"Brothers and Sisters!"

I rise from my pew as the Lord Protector marches into our antechamber, lizard familiar on his right shoulder. He's a powerfully built man, and a little taller than most of his contemporaries. But his face… He has almost no expression; as if the muscles which would normally animate it have been paralysed. I doubt that the local puritans go in for botulinum toxin injections, so maybe an injury? It makes him look more fearsome, but for all I know he's laughing on the inside.

"The heathens have requested that we allow them to send a mission to the warlock-breed!"

But he probably isn't.

Diana.. is standing just behind him, and she's got her diplomat-face on. Something odd is happening. Dr. Balewa hasn't accompanied them, so I'm.. assuming that he's already gotten to work? And Alan, Leonid and Major Adams aren't heathens, they're heretics at most. Or is that worse? I can't remember what puritans thought about other Christian denominations.

"I have granted licence for this, and for their study of the artefacts of the accursed sheeda which remain in our possession. In return, they shall aid us against the warlocks who now assail us! Brother Shadrach! You shall instruct them in the progress of the conflict. Brother Abednego! You shall escort their heathen missionary… For so long as you can stand it."

Abednego nods phlegmatically.

"Those of you who are injured, I thank you for the devotion which you show in heeding my call. Return to your sickbeds, that you may regain your full strength. All others, return to your duties."

He about-faces, glaring momentarily at Diana as he marches back out of the room. Him leaving appears to be a general signal to disperse, those carrying visible injuries being given room by their fellows to leave first.

I lean slightly closer to Brother Abednego. "Are there any restrictions on the medical techniques your people can use?"

"Anything involving demons, unclean spirits or changes to the sheeda part of our blood, though the latter is less for faith and more for practical reason."

"But a tool of profane magic is fine?"

"If that wert truly its nature, yes. Have you such a thing?"

I take a purple ray out of my armour and offer it to him. "A purple ray device. Press the trigger and it emits a ray of purple light that will heal anything it touches. Not immediately, but it's far faster than natural healing."

He takes it from me and… A sigil flickers over his right hand and the ray disappears.

"Thank yea. Tis a most generous thing."

Our team moves to gather around Diana as the last of the reassigned witch-hunters file out.

"As the Lord-Protector said, we will be sending a group to the 'warlock-breed'. As you know, when a citizen of Columbia breaks their vows they are transformed by their magic. When this happens they are made an outlaw, and they are usually killed by the witch-hunters. However, those who escape can sometimes establish their own settlement, or survive in the forests away from those who hunt them. It seems that they pass on their physiological changes to their descendants, and it is to one of those communities we will be sending people. Physician, you will take Orange Lantern and Starfire to the settlement Brother Abednego shows you. Learn what you can of them. The rest of us will be attending a lecture by Brother Shadrach. It seems that the Sheeda are more active here than we believed."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
08:59 GMT -5

"Mistress Bleak not going to join us?"

Abednego hesitates for a moment before responding. "Sister Bleak is a canny fighter, strong-willed and true. But she is a scourge where perhaps a feather is more suited."

A couple of local men are supervising the grundymen loading our wagon, while Mr. Yao is quietly humming as he tries to understand their physiology. It looks like their wards don't disrupt his sonic abilities.

"Well said. Very diplomatic."

"We do not customarily work as a group. We were simply the ones who stepped forward when the call was made to face the fiend. Brother Shadrach were powerful moved to face the foul warlock who had slain so many. Sister Beulah wished to kill the murderer of her parents."

"And you?"

"I felt moved to it." He frowns as he catches sight through a window of Diana's part of the team. "Prithee, explain a thing to me."

"Certainly."

"Yonder woman; she is a princess among your folk?"

"Themyscira isn't a huge place, but she's the Crown Princess."

"Why does she… Dress..?"

"Joke-answer or real-answer?"

"As it please you."

"That's the traditional raiment of Themysciran ambassadors. She has dresses and robes, but we weren't sure what sort of reception we were going to get and she wanted to travel light. The bustier itself was made by Hephaestus, and is proof against most forms of attack. It also has the advantage of not binding her arms or legs; Diana is far stronger than any normal woman and if she wore something more binding in a fight she'd risk tearing it."

He frowns thoughtfully. "Still…"

"Have you ever worked on a farm?"

"Aye, as a child, before I was 'pprenticed."

"Did you ever take your shirt off because you got hot from working hard?"

"Aye, I did."

"Was that lascivious? Were you trying to attract the amorous attentions of the local girls?"

"No." He nods. "I take your meaning."

"Oh, it's not my meaning. 'But I say unto you, that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.'"

He smiles. "Ah! So you interpret our Lord and Saviour's lesson as being that the sin is in the watcher, not the one being watched!"

"Well… Not in all circumstances, but for her that form of dress is completely normal. She's not trying to 'lead anyone away from the path of righteousness', she's just armouring her vital organs in case she gets into a fight. If someone gets 'distracted' by it, that's on them."

"I take your meaning, but methinks you would be hard pressed to carry the conclave."

"But I'm not trying to convince the conclave." I nod at the wranglers as they hitch horses to the cart. "Why do you use horses, not grundymen?"

"Controlling grundymen requires us to use our magics while controlling horses requires but a touch of the reins. If those we would speak to seek affray, grundymen would leave me weakened. And there are ways to disrupt the witch-signs I would use."

"And why aren't I just carrying us there?"

"We are a people of Christian witches. This hallowed land upon which we live is rife with spells and witch-signs, which such techniques as you use interfere with. That was what drew Sister Beulah to you."

"And.. she shot me. And you think the 'warlock-breed' would react in the same sort of way?"

"Some members of the parliament have long called for their deaths."

"And you?"

"'The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself.'" He bows his head slightly. "Alas, the magics of the Sheeda do not share the Lord's forbearance."

He walks towards the cart, raising his right hand slightly to draw the attention of our fellow travellers.

"Gentlemen, please take your seats and we will away."

Mr Yao takes a seat on the bench at the front, while Leonid and I land in the back amongst the supply boxes. He claims a box as a seat while I generate a construct. Abednego climbs aboard last, a faint glow coming from the sigils carved into the wood and embossed upon the metal. He lightly shakes the reins and the horses trot out of the yard and down the centre of a largely empty thoroughfare.

Mr Yao looks around as people step to the sides of the road to avoid us. The witch-people clearly haven't felt the need to establish a rule about keeping to one side of the road, and the grundymen are slow enough to respond to their controllers that we have to keep a slow pace.

"How long will this take?"

Abednego shrugs. "Not so long, i'faith. I will use my magic to speed us on our way once we leave the town. That will take us to the closest road, then we must journey across the chalklands for a time. Perhaps a day or two, all told."

"What form of magic?"

"I be a synchronicity pilgrim. The cart, the horses and we ourselves will move at one with the universe."

I frown. "Yes, but wouldn't that.. just mean that obstacles were conveniently absent and connecting ferries will be there when we need them? We'll be moving in harmony with the world, not changing a part of it."

"Ah, you have some knowledge of it!" He smiles, glancing back at me as he does so. "Verily, at the skill of an apprentice that is indeed so. But as my master taught it to me, far greater things are possible if you abandon ego and submerge yourself in the wonder of the Lord's creation."

Which might explain why John never did it. 'Submerging himself in wonder' isn't really his thing. Or… 'Wasn't', I suppose. Becoming a Lord of Order and Chaos might have changed his perspective.

"Mister Abednego?" Leonid leans forwards slightly. "May I ask, what abilities do you use in combat? If this meeting is hostile, we must plan for what you can do."

Abednego tugs his coat aside slightly, showing a brace of pistols.

"I'm a fair shot, but if I'm a'fighting someone without righteous cause I prefer to slip away. Things being what they are, the warlock-folk are powerful riled up."

Mr Yao raises his eyebrows slightly. "For what reason?"

"We bind people against using evil magics because in the early days some of Melmoth's favourites tried doing things… That should not be spoken of. Which means that whenever we scry the workings of the Sheeda, the warlock-folk are targeted for a vengeance of dubious righteousness. They have their own ways of keeping watch on us, and they usually choose to move further away. But the Lord-Protector has commissioned a series of new villages these past few years. We're closer to their oldest settlements now than ever before, and they do not want to move."

Marvellous.

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
09:11 GMT -6

Luna glances around from the television as I as trot into the living room in equine form. The new… Newer living room has a surfeit of space even for a full family gathering, but she's opted to lie on the floor rather than move a settee into a direction which would allow her to watch the screen. Not that it's much of a sacrifice; with a cleaning staff and science fiction cleaning tools I opted for a decadently fluffy carpet, and it's easily soft enough for comfort.

"We do not believe that We understand the way in which the people of America choose their ruler."

"You and America."

I walk over to stand next to her, then begin the somewhat awkward process of lowering myself onto my belly. Yes, I could just pull in my legs and let Sinestro lower me, but I want practice in my pony form. Downdowndowndown and we have a successful landing! Tuck my legs in a bit…

"We suppose that it is progress that you are merely as ungainly as a drunken adolescent."

"Yes, yes it is." I smile and turn my head towards her. "But remember that every piece of mockery which you throw at me will be thrown back at you when you experiment with bipedalism."

"We are uncertain that We even want to change Our form so. It is less stable, lacks wings, struggles to utilise magic and lacks the physical strength which Our Earth Pony magic provides us."

"Basically all human technology is designed for hands. But, I'm not forcing you. If you don't think you're up to it then you don't think you're up to it."

"An obvious bait."

"Yeah." I smile. "Is it working?"

She rolls her eyes and looks away for a moment, before giving her mane a small toss.

"What do you mean by 'Us and America'?"

"I'm pretty sceptical about how many Americans actually understand how the whole thing works. Most of them probably get the basics, but the actual give and take and lobbying that actually happens to actually effect change… I'm dubious. I don't really understand all of it, and I've been involved at the highest level for over a year."

"Explain it to Us."

"O-. Well, I can't; as I said, I don't understand it. But if you want the basics… Equestria is an autocratic tyranny. When Celestia wants to make a law, change a policy or use executive authority, she doesn't need anyone's permission."

Luna raises her eyebrows.

I raise mine right back.

"Duocratic monarchy. And we are advised by numerous ponies."

"But they can't stop you. The only people who can gainsay the monarchs are the monarchs, which in practice will mean Celestia for a generation or two."

"Yes… Someone must be able to make a final decision."

I squeeze my eyes closed, quietly sniggering.

"Is that..? Not the case here?"

I open my eyes to see Luna regarding me quizzically.

"The problem with America, is that they tried to make the best system possible."

Her eyes narrow. "And that is bad?"

"If you try and make a perfect system as an imperfect being using imperfect beings, things are going to go 'bong' the moment you pull the activation lever. This right here?" I nod at the television as the presenters try to judge the likely outcome of the remaining primary votes. All the ways Knight could lose, basically. None of them are particularly likely. "This is a pre-election election."

"Yes, the two parties are deciding who will be their champion. We understand that much."

"Except that's not it. Each state votes on who they want each party's candidate to be. In some places only members of that party can vote, but in other places anyone can."

"Would the other party not simply try to vote for an unelectable ignoramus, to increase the attractiveness of their own candidate?"

It would explain a lot…

"They might, but there's a risk that person might get elected. The intent -as I understand it- is to increase the chance of getting a candidate with wider appeal. And of course there's an electoral college, which makes things more complicated."

She frowns. "If the system is so complex that it requires a college to teach people how to participate, then We may concur with your assessment."

"No, 'college' in this context means the votes in each state determine where the fixed number of votes of that state go, which are the votes that actually determine the outcome. So you vote for a vote in an election for an election. In fact, given that they also use electors, it's a vote for a vote in an election for a vote in an election."

"I suspect that it is more sensible that you make it sound."

"No, it's like Winter Wrap-Up: pointless, but people have been doing it this way for so long that people don't react rationally to you questioning it."

"What is your intent?"

"I'd like Horne to win, but Knight is such a… Leaf in the wind that I doubt he'll really make things difficult for me."

She nods, though she's frowning. "Did your interview advance his cause? Are those issues… Child-rearing and private armaments, important to the people of America?"

"Ahhh… Sort of. It's…" I take a moment to work out how to explain it. "Virtue signalling."

"Your meaning?"

"Humans are mind-blind. They can't hear one another's thoughts, or truly see the world from one another's perspective. All they can do is observe the behaviours of one another and attempt to decipher the thoughts and intent behind them. Virtue signalling is the process by which humans within a political community show one another what people in that community value. For a pony example: Applejack is honest even when it isn't in her interest to be, and all around her can see this and are reassured that honesty is something she truly values."

"We understand so far."

"And that lesson wouldn't be anything like as effective if she merely said that she valued honesty but constantly lied. She would be labelled as a hypocrite, and when an accusation of hypocrisy sticks it's usually considered a pretty solid refutation of an argument. Which is a fallacy; a person coming up short doesn't prove that they don't value a thing or that the thing shouldn't be valued… But I'm getting off track."

"A consequence of mind-blindness is that all we can judge are appearances. But if that's true, what is the difference between someone who acts in accordance with their deeply-felt beliefs and someone who puts on a show for popularity's sake?"

"Constancy."

I snort with amusement. "Yes. But people have such short memories. Gun ownership and sex education are… Flag issues. Signifying issues. In theory, they show an allegiance to a particular way of seeing the nation. In terms of practicality they're irrelevant. The most conservative president in history couldn't block children's access to sex-related material in a country like America. The most liberal couldn't prevent parents lecturing their children on abstinence-only. The most gun-hating president couldn't recall every gun in circulation and if a gun-lover repealed every restrictive ordinance hardly anyone would take advantage of it because the most practical guns are already legal. A handful of people would buy tanks and artillery pieces to show that they could, and that's about it. Whether Horne or Knight win the election, I doubt that either will change the law relating to either topic much, if at all. Even if they would like to." I snort quietly. "Even if they try to."

"But Knight is signalling that he has a virtue, a set of beliefs. A set that will cause particular demographics to vote for him, even though they'll get little out of it. A set that I don't believe that he actually has, but that won't matter because his new friends aren't going to look back at his previous positions, or will accept that he's seen the light. Knight goes to where people are and tries to fit in. Horne states his case -usually.. not very well- and tries to bring people to him."

"What would they do if they felt it necessary to take a position that none agreed with, as Celestia did when she freed Discord?"

"They fail to pass any legislation for the remainder of their term, and are never elected again."

Luna nods. "We think that We may see a flaw in this system."

"You and Socrates, Luna. You and Socrates."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
13:21 GMT -5

Morning brings the chatter of bird-analogues and the rapid culling of beetle-analogues by their snapping beaks. Winged insects don't appear to be a big feature here, with pollination-duty being taken by pseudo-hummingbirds and small climbing pseudo-reptiles, but fairly tanky-looking scavenger beetles are ducking and covering as they go about their carrion-seeking duties.

The journey down Columbia's road system was… Interesting. It was as if we were flicking between intersections and villages with the rest of the network appearing only as momentary blurs. At the same time, the rattle of the solid metal-rimmed wheels and the clopping of the horses' hooves were completely constant. Since this appears to require a highly trained speciality and doesn't work -or doesn't work safely- in a built-up area, I don't think it's got the sort of wider applications that Ted and I look for. But if we work out how to train a person as quickly as possible… Maybe.

"Checkmate."

And I've just lost the thirty-second consecutive chess game to Leonid.

"Can't we play something else instead?"

"You mean, like that board game you wrote? Or perhaps like that card game you made that comes from your universe, that no one else can understand?"

Abednego glances back.

"Games of skill are perfectly good pastimes, but I'll not have gambling in my cart."

"I don't gamble, Mister Abednego. But my grandparents taught me basic arithmetic using card games. I really don't see what the objective difference between chess pieces and cards is."

"People are wont to gamble on cards, even if you do not. People do not gamble on chess.

Leonid shakes his head. "In Russia, people gamble on chess games. More often on card games, but chess is very popular."

Abednego doesn't look impressed.

"How about Othello?"

"I know it not. Be it a gambling game?"

"W-. You can gamble on just about anything. You don't even need to gamble on poker."

"I be unconvinced-."

"Mister Abednego." Mr. Yao taps our guide on his right shoulder. "Can you give us some idea of how much further we have to go?"

"If the weather holds… Two more days' travel."

"And you're sure we can't just fly there?"

"Be you proof against maleficium most foul?"

"Highly resistant? Magic can't find me, and my spell eater amulets tend to nullify spells that try and affect me."

He frowns. "Magic cannot find you?"

"Scrying me or scrying my location won't work, even with a blood sample. Any spell which is supposed to guide itself to a target won't if I'm the target."

"That is a strange thing. Forgive my doubt, but such a claim is so at odds-."

"You can check. Even if you prove me wrong, it's a useful data-."

A red-white beam blasts through the cart just in front of me, burning into the ground beneath!

"Was that-?"

Abednego throws himself off the cart, hands reaching for his pistols as Mr Yao opens his mou-.

Ow! Need to start training with Justice League members who aren't Lanterns.

His mouth, and the sky vibrates. For a fraction of a second I see three… Shapes? And then they vanish again. I form a plasma initiator construct and launch it up into the sky as Leonid shoots upwards, flickers of fire leaping from his hands in all directions as he tries to find his target. No hits then I activate my construct, the activation energy of every gas molecule dropping to near-zero and causing an area about fifty metres in diameter to transmute into electrically charged plasma! Still nothing.

Ring, scan everything you can and extrapolate everything you can't. Also, armour.

Working.

And in the mean time, dismissing the plasma initiator and quietly cursing that we were right and we Lanterns did indeed lose access to our subspace storage, I send a torrent of orange filaments outwards in all directions. Five hundred metres, no contact. A kilometre… Nothing. A mile? Still nothing. Genuinely not there or exotic defence? Don't care. I turn filaments to blades and swing-.

My hands fall from my arms, my constructs failing at-

Call rings!

-once, a blade I can barely see leaping for my face!

A barely-heard sound, the noise of the very cogs of the celestial mechanisms of the universe rusting and grinding, the space in front of me flickering-.

And I see my first Sheeda as my blood-covered rings reach my arm-stumps, orange knives manifesting and stabbing-. And being turned to mist by the Sheeda's armour, fine, x-ionised knife.

A beam of red-white energy punches through my chest and vaporises my heart, along with a chunk of my torso.

Armour back punch with the knife restore chest bangs of pistols knife cuts armour draws blue-green blood. Knife evaporates Sheeda armour glistens crumble gauntlet evaporates.

Feed Us.

Sheeda armour grey thin pale face fears.

Feed Us.

Sheeda gasp fall back energy pulse parried pulls stone cracks Leonid flies through gone.

Gone.

Ow.

I set myself down on the ground somewhat unsteadily, planting my feet as my rings finish knitting my body back together. Looks like I-.

I raise my right hand to my face and feel a dozen minor cuts as they are erased by the orange light.

I took a beating I didn't even feel. And… I touch filaments to my severed hands and disintegrate them.

Mr Yao is singing…

Singing…

Singguh. Singing something hypnotic that I'm blocking with construct earmuffs. Abednego's dropped his pistols and has witch-signs glowing in each hand and Leonid is looking from Mr Yao to me… Looking for instructions?

"Mister Abednego, do you know what that was?"

"A Sheeda warrior."

"I-."

"I bid you wait. Once they leave, they seldom return at once, but I would not see a man dead for my laxity. If you are targeted, it be wise for me to share a little of what has befallen us."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
13:26 GMT -5

"We do not live now in the lands our forefathers tilled at Melmoth's behest."

When Abednego made to open a crate containing what looked suspiciously like hardtack, I offered to cook something instead. My subspace food may be inaccessible but I'm perfectly capable of rebuilding food substances molecule by molecule. And since my personal lantern is sitting nearby in a case I'm not desperate to save power. But apparently his sister baked them with a hint of something called 'zynam', which is some sort of local herb. It sounded like he was looking forward to it.

Thank you, 16th century high church Anglicans. I dread to think what our food culture would be like if these people had won.

"That was…" He looks around. "Some way away, past the land we are now travelling toward. Melmoth had no Sheeda allies, but he had warbeasts and monsters of the Sheeda host who were bound to him. Some were large; great insects who could swallow men whole and men made of water who could melt flesh with a touch. Others were small; tiny man-shaped creatures with insect wings, who could spy upon us or control a man by touching his neck."

"Spine Riders. We met them. They actually stab their blades into the neck to take control of their victim's central nervous system via their spine. Did he have large maggots as well?"

I generate a construct, and Abednego nods in recognition.

"That be having the look of it. He had mortal men as well, but our forebears couldn't ken whether they served him willingly or were bound by spell or fairie. As you were told, it was not until the first generation of his children grew to manhood that they could rise against him, having learned of the magics he used to bind his creatures."

Mr. Yao nods. "They are the same spells you use to control your undead servants."

"Aye, that they are. There was something of the Sheeda in the beasts, as there is something of the Sheeda in each of us. I deny it not. We needed new fields and new homes. Labour was short and need was great. It seemed unseemly to them as to you, but it was needful."

Leonid frowns. "And now?"

"Now, 'tis custom. 'Tis normal. Each of us knows that we will labour our lives and labour our deaths 'til our bodies crumble to naught. 'Tis a service we willingly give to our descendants."

"There is no final rest?"

"Nay, there is. A corpse does not heal. In time, the witch-signs will not serve to bind the remains and the body collapses. They are buried again, and blessed, and they finally know peace."

"What is the orthodox church's view on magic?"

"It… It depends. Some things are allowed. Manipulating the physical world is usually accepted. But to speak with the dead-." He shakes his head. "No priest would allow it."

Abednego looks at him curiously. "You are a Christian, then?"

Leonid nods. "Yes. Of the Russian Orthodox church."

"Ah! I had thought that your entire company were pagans!"

"Christianity is the Earth's largest religion, if you don't mind the denomination."

"And do we puritans make up a goodly portion?"

Leonid looks at me.

"Between the intervening centuries and your use of magic, no one on Earth practises Christianity in quite the same way that you do, though violent conflict between Christian denominations is quite unusual."

He nods. "That is better. But we wander from the point. Many died before Melmoth was brought low and the survivors fled before his monstrous host. Our forebears fled until the beasts pursued them not, then cleared fields and built the first of our settlements. We had peace for a time, but something… Perhaps our magic fumblings, perhaps they merely sought prey… The beasts found us, and we fought. Once the harvest was done we moved again, hoping that we would escape them." He shakes his head. "We never did, but we learned enough of battle and magic that we could fight them off when they came."

He leans back.

"Magic… The youth of that day had known ought else, but to the elders it was strange. Perhaps ungodly. They were not ungrateful, but they saw it as a living link to Melmoth. Once our forebears had breathing room, a conclave was held, and an agreement wrought. Some magics would be accepted, some prohibited." He looks at Leonid. "Much as your priests accept some forms and bar others. Different forms of Christian worship draw the lines in different places."

"Alright, but those weren't beasts. They were proper humanoid Sheeda."

"Mayhap. Or mayhap a warlock-breed pushed things further than any man should. Melmoth had weapons he took with him into his exile. The most simple ones we-" He draws a pistol and holds it out for a moment before reholstering it. "-copied for ourselves, but many were beyond us, and deadly to those foolhardy enough to attempt to use them. But warlocks become as they are because they push their Sheeda blood further than we dare. 'Tis not unthinkable that they could make use of them."

"Do you think that is what we fought?"

"I have never seen a true Sheeda to compare it. Have you?"

"No. I know only one man who has ever seen them, and we didn't bring him with us."

"For what reason?"

"He's an insane criminal scientist who spent years in their homeland. His crimes are many. Bringing him wouldn't have been acceptable to a lot of people." I frown. "But I recognise the beam weapon. It was an entropic ray."

Mr Yao bows his head slightly. "Is that significant?"

I shrug. "It's not very common. It's not that powerful for its size and complexity; the only really unique feature it has is that it bypasses certain types of defence. The version I'm familiar with was developed by the Reach, and the Sheeda version looked completely different so I doubt they got it from them."

Leonid nods. "What does it do?"

"The Reach were trying to intimidate a species who occupied several systems, but they weren't getting very far; they didn't want to trade and were strongly culturally unified. Their weakness was theological. They were Source-worshippers who believed that only the Source could create or destroy energy. So the Reach developed a 'theologically significant' gun which destroyed energy, flushing it straight into the Bleed." I shrug. "When the Reach demonstrated it, it caused a species-wide religious panic. With their unity fatally undermined, the Reach were able to infiltrate them, and their mini-empire collapsed within a decade."

"How dangerous is it?"

"Considering how technologically complex it is, not very. It's more effective against thin but tough armour than it is against sheer mass. It can hurt people like you and if that's the standard Sheeda weapon I'll have to redesign my armour into something more ablative, but it's manageable."

Mr Yao nods. "I felt the power of my sound being drained away, but I could not tell why. Do you know why we could not detect them?"

"No. I mean, I'll know to check for an entropic defence of some kind, but those usually aren't that subtle. I'd guess that it was-" I look at Abednego for confirmation. "-magic?"

"Mayhap. I could not ken it well or true." He shakes his head. "We did not risk taking great quantities of Sheeda wargear with us. I know something of Sheeda creatures but little of the tools their masters used."

"All the more reason to make contact with the warlock-breed, then."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
18:04 GMT -5

Leonid watches as I finish transmuting another box of crumbler ammunition as we both continue to ignore the.. buzzing sound that Mr Yao has been making for the past five hours.

"Would that work?"

"They're my go-to option for hard-to-kill targets when constructs don't work." I glance up at him. "No guarantees."

"Of course." He pauses briefly. "Do you think I should have brought my spaceship?"

"Not without knowing how it would interact with the witch-path. And you'd have had trouble fitting it into the basement with the machine."

"We could borrow Atom's white dwarf fragment." He glances up at the sky, though the local white dwarf is over the horizon. "Should we get him more?"

"I don't.. think that what Atom has is actually a piece of a white dwarf in any literal sense. And I can just make electron-degenerate matter if he really wants some."

I haven't spent much time looking into Dr Palmer's work. It's a bit like superspeed; so absurdly broken if applied in a military context that I'm hesitating to put it into wider circulation. Dr Dane's formula would be far safer, though… Far less useful, even if I could get it.

"Are you prepared to sell this 'electron-degenerate matter'?"

"Sell commercially?" I send the bullet box into subspace and sit up to look at him. "No."

"The Russian Federation does not want certain technologies to spread. My government could give people super speed at any time, but we do not do so. We respect the balance of power."

"And if I gave you some electron-degenerate matter, you'd only have as much as I gave you, and you want me to believe that your superiors would… Just make a couple of shrink systems and then stop, the same as they did for the Garrick Formula."

He nods. "Yes. The Star Wars defence system increased tension between Russia and America because it could prevent Russian nuclear missile hitting America while American missiles could still hit Russia. Russia has no desire to expand its borders by force, but in such a situation it is logical to attack because the primary deterrent is about to be rendered useless. When the radar stations they would use for tracking were removed, relations improved."

"I suspect that my 'colleagues' in the Great Ten would also appreciate a sample." Mr Yao glances back at us. "If the balance of power is being preserved."

"The United States government doesn't have shrink technology. Giving it to Russian and Chinese governments doesn't preserve the balance of power, particularly given that I don't own the technology. Unlike Mister Garrick, Atom has never acted as an agent of the American government. So when it comes to this sort of technology I'm afraid that my answer hasn't changed; create a planetary defence force and I'll equip it, but I'm not supplying individual armies." Hm. "Except Themyscira, because they've got a three thousand year long peace record and won't use it anyway."

Leonid shrugs. "I will pass that on. I am curious. What would a 'planetary defence force' look like?"

"Like a unified planetary military created for the purpose of, one, defending the Earth from external threats and, two, defending human expansion off Earth."

"The Russian space program is currently the most advanced in the world. And my ship can fly in space without-" He glances at Mr. Yao. "-causing me to melt."

Mr Yao shakes his head. "I do not want Orange Lantern to share this technology with China. I simply wish to preserve the balance of power along the border between our countries, and that requires that neither of our countries get it."

"Normally I'd say that's the sort of attitude that's keeping humanity back, but in this case I think it's the sort of attitude that's keeping us from nuking ourselves." I look from Leonid to Mr. Yao. "I… Thought that the issues on your border were resolved."

Mr Yao nods. "They are. And we both want to make sure that they stay resolved. If one side gains an advantage… Sometimes, these things change. But since you are not supplying anyone, it does not matter."

"So… No one's going for the EDF idea?"

Mr. Yao looks away. "It is… Doubtful. I assume that the technology you would provide would be for 'EDF' use only, and not supplied to participating countries?"

"Absolutely."

"If you want a formally informal answer, I will ask my superiors. But it seems unlikely to me that the People's Republic of China would be interested in such a thing."

"The Russian government may be prepared to agree not to use such devices on Earth. Recent events have led people to reconsider space security."

"Please inform them that I am disinclined to be negotiated down."

I take the small sample of possibly-Sheeda blood that I scraped off my armour out of subspace and take another crack at it. More because I don't particularly want them to carry on trying to bid for technology that I'm not selling than because I think I'll learn anything new this time, but hopefully they'll get the hint.

"Be you able to decipher some secret from their blood?"

"No. Not really. I can't even tell whether or not our attackers were true Sheeda or your atavistic cousins, because Sheeda are essentially humans."

Abednego frowns. "I-. I do not understand. Are they not some other species?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, I hadn't realised that it wasn't common knowledge here. No, Sheeda are humans from the far future."

He grimaces. "What horror could have befallen them to turn men into that?"

"We don't know. The Huntsman didn't say, and I haven't met any intelligent Sheeda."

"Yon man who spent time in their lands. Could he not find the truth of it?"

"He probably could have done, but he was fighting for his life and scrabbling for enough food and water to keep himself alive. He didn't really have the opportunity to study their history."

And he… Honestly wouldn't have been inclined to. If the idea even occurred to him.

Nothing here immediately puts me in mind of another species… Or rather, there are things in their blood that also exist in other species, but it doesn't look like the result of interbreeding or a simple graft. Really, I'm.. more surprised by how much 'human' there is. It certainly makes sense to me that a being like this could have children with a human without medical intervention. If this is designed rather than the product of however millions of years of natural change, I'd assume that it was deliberate. Do they..? Come to the past to pick up breeding stock as well as technology and raw materials? If so… Why? Is their population inbred? Was there a disaster which hurt their genetic diversity?

What the heck turned us into these things?

Abednego pulls the horses to a halt and dismounts, witch-signs glowing over his hands as he walks towards a standing stone.

"A moment, goodfellows."

"What is it?"

"A way to inform those we would visit that we do so in peace." Glyphs light up over the stone as he runs his hands over them. "I think it best that there be no more surprises on either side. And if they are not willing to treat with us, I'd druther know now."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
01:34 GMT -5

A glowing two-dimensional blue-white fence surrounds our campsite. Abednego's eyes are glowing a similar colour as he writes in a journal. I did volunteer to take the watch myself, seeing as I can go without sleep for long periods without any negative consequences, but when he said that wasn't a good idea I decided to bow to his experience.

Empathic vision turned up maximum comfortable levels I scan our surroundings again. Nothing yet.

No one responded to Abednego marking the monolith, but he didn't seem to find that unusual. If most contacts between warlock-breed and witch-hunters results in a to-the-death fight it's hardly surprising; the sensible thing to do would be for both sides to cordially avoid one another. And if they just avoid us until we get to the original settlement… Whatever state it's in, that's technically a success for us.

I'm particularly looking forward to getting a look at Melmoth's remains. Confirmation of what the Sheeda of the future look like and not merely their hybrid descendants will not only allow me to fine-tune my scanning but perhaps work out how to turn warlock-breed back into regular.. witch-breed..? Would that be the word?

I walk quietly over to 'quiet conversation' distance with Abednego and sit down. He looks up and sets his journal down… He picked up a biro from our parallel. Didn't buy a history book but-. Picked up a biro from the Hall of Justice.

Practical.

"If the people we're going to see are warlock-breed, what are your people called?"

He shrugs. "Men. I take your meaning, that we are not men as your people are, but a more accurate name… Well, what would we call ourselves? Sheeda-breed? Sheeda-kin? T'would be unthinkable for most."

"Witch-breed?"

"To be a witch is to use magic, and the warlock-breed use magic more freely than we do."

I nod. "Are they Christians too, or have they left the faith?"

"I… Be unsure. Some settlements have crude buildings with crosses affixed, but… Oft times the cross is not a simple-" He makes the sign of the cross with his right forefinger. "cruciform, but has other additions. It could be meaning something else."

"Why would their buildings be cruder than yours?"

"Fewer people to work upon them and carry the knowledge, methinks. Warlocks of the first generation did oft change when they are on their own, flee on their own, and may be slow to be accepted by others of their kind even if they find them."

"How do you personally feel about warlocks and the law surrounding them?"

"I be not one who puts obedience next to godliness, but such rules as our people have exist for goodly reasons, for the most part. Warlocks do not come to be for trivial or trite reasons. But neither do I believe that any act is unforgivable, should they honestly and truly repent for it." He looks down for a moment. "How do your people deal with such crimes?"

"Depends. Most nations on Earth don't have a significant number of magic users, so there generally aren't 'separate' magic crimes. Minor magic users can generally be dealt with easily enough by the normal criminal justice system." I smile. "We've actually adapted a prison to be able to hold powerful demons who commit crimes in the material world, and so far it's working surprisingly well."

"You arrest demons?"

"What should we do, kill them? Their spirits just return to Hell to regain their strength. Binding them in a sacred place would work, but there's a history of the people guarding them suffering 'piety failures' and the maleficent entity escaping. There are pagan gods who wouldn't mind taking custody of them, but transferring prisoners from one country to serve their sentence in another is… Legally difficult."

No matter how much more sense it would make for Satanus to be bound in Tartarus than Belle Reve, Congress wants to get its money's worth. Senator Knight said that he'd revisit the issue if there were any escapes, but I think he was mostly trying to get rid of me at that point.

Themyscira has been at peace for three thousand years. Cronus has been bound in Tartarus for at least twice that. A few European ambassadors I've spoken to sounded somewhat interested, but Mr Churkin said that Russia was happy with its current arrangements. Which means they've made a pact with someone, because I've met what passes for Russia's magic corps and they're a band of barely competent ritualists. Goodness only knows what China's doing.

"You keep demons in your land because imprisoning them elsewhere gives your lawyers trouble?"

"I got a law passed which gives equal recognition to all intelligent beings. Banishing a demon that hasn't done anything else illegal is fine, but if they commit crimes then we have to punish them in the same way we would a man." I shrug. "Not my best idea."

He draws himself up slightly. "Do demons.. openly walk your lands? I confess, I was not looking for such creatures when I visited."

I think about the Praexis Demons.

"Not openly, but there are a few around. Weak ones, mostly. The stronger ones draw attention from people who can actually fight them reasonably quickly, and they struggle to manifest on Earth even with help. Is demon summoning a problem here?"

"Only twice in all our history has a warlock been condemned for treating with demons. Neither time did they go so far as to summon one bodily onto Earth. Malevolent spirits are far more common."

"How many warlocks do you actually get?"

"Perhaps one every five years, on average." He shakes his head. "Nowadays it is more likely to be small groups falling to corruption over decades, rather than one man or woman more frequently."

"But if they're doing that, why don't they just… Leave? Load a cart up with the materials to start a farm, take a team of grundymen and head off?"

"Why thinks you that they don't?" He shakes his head. "Our witch-signs tell us if a man or woman breaks their vows where they are planted, but they do not tell us what comes after or what occurs further away. If they are far away, we'd not know it."

"'By definition, we can only study failed criminals'."

He smiles faintly. "That's a fair way to put it. Though if your embassy goes well, we may prevail upon you and your comrades to look around for us."

"Is that a good idea? We wouldn't want to start a fight."

"Unless they be in league with the Sheeda. As I have told you, the warlock-breed are descendants of those who broke their vows. If there is a chancellery of malefactors elsewhere in these lands, that is a just concern."

"I suppose we could have a look around. It-."

"Oh, could-"

Ring showing nothing vision showing nothing armour construct armour.

"-you now?"

Without rising, Abednego tips his hat in the direction the voice came from.

"Pleasant evening, Mistress Butler."

"I'd not be so quick to say that."

A patch of the darkness takes a new texture as a humanoid figure appears, and -ow- I start getting meaningful returns. Rather than the grey-blue of the witch-folk, the person has skin which shades from grey to sandy yellow. They also have the Sheeda's elongated ears, and… Either heavy scarring or.. some sort of skin growth. Their forearms are long enough to reach the ground and they're broader than a normal human could be. It puts me a little in mind of Klarion's monster boy mode, but more… Unhealthy. Like he made it to a plateau of power and this 'Mistress Butler' fell well short and was left unfinished. Her clothing consists of a cloak made of reptilian skin and a dress of pale blue wool.

"But rather you than another. You and your people will be wanting an escort, I take it?"

Abednego nods. "If it will not trouble you too greatly. They have news which concerns us all."

"Aye, well." She comes a little closer, the barrier repelling her for a moment before Abednego waves his right hand to drop it. "As you have news for us, so we have news for you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
01:43 GMT -5

Back on the cart, with Mr Yao in the back with Leonid and me and both of them not yawning. I suppose that between Russian military academy and Chinese boot camp they've become accustomed to disrupted sleep cycles. Outside the cart our surroundings flicker and fade, partially illusory and partially spatially displaced.

If any of us were actually magicians I'm sure this would be fascinating. Especially considering that their formal magic education is bound to be worse than what their oath-following kindred have.

"Mistress Butler." She turns her head to regard Mr. Yao, her neck just a little too long and too flexible when compared to human norms. "Do you know who or what it was that attacked us?"

"Something invisible, was it? You couldn't see it even when you knew it was there?"

"Saw one of them pretty well." I take the blood sample out of subspace and hold it out to her. "Tough, but not unbeatable."

"You killed one of them?"

"Probably not. Even with a nasty hole in its chest, it managed to disengage. Starfire thinks he hit something, but we couldn't pierce their illusion."

Disturbingly elongated fingers pluck the vial from my hand.

"We can use this. We may finally be able to undo their 'fluences."

Abednego glances at her. "Have your people suffered from their depravations?"

"Aye, we have. At first 'twas little more than a light touch 'pon our wards. Then people began to vanish. The first few were taken when they were alone. Then they began acting more openly, stealing our folk away in the middle of crowds, of locked rooms! What are they!?"

"We're not sure, but there's a chance that they're Sheeda. Actual Sheeda from the Land of Summer's End. The place from which Melmoth fled."

"If they seek him, they're seeking in the wrong place. Our village is nowhere near his grave."

I suppose that the Sheeda wouldn't necessarily know… No, it's the first thing someone they were torturing would say, isn't it? A truth that would make the pain stop and get their attackers to leave their family alone. 'The place you want is nowhere near here. Go there instead of here.' Did they.. just not bother asking?

"How long do they go between abductions?"

"They have no pattern."

Mr. Yao frowns. "Do your people have no military? No government which could send aid?"

She turns and bares her teeth at Abednego. "Have you told them nothing?"

"I felt it best for them to see with their own eyes."

"We were forty eight. Now we are twenty seven. We have no grundymen so raise creatures of the Sheeda to aid us."

"Is your settlement one of the larger ones?"

"We do not have so many settlements that that question has meaning. Not that I have knowledge of. If we gather in numbers his kind come to destroy us."

Abednego doesn't look around. "No pilgrim such as I stood amongst that host, Mistress Butler. You'd not tolerate me here if one did."

"Hm." I try scanning her, and the clumsily-stitched glyphs on her cloak's collar shimmer.

"What are you about!?"

"I was thinking that it shouldn't be too hard to reconfigure your body. I doubt that Columbia has fully accurate censuses. If you looked like a Sheeda-altered human rather than a warlock, it should be easy enough for your people to slip back into society."

"Fool! Altering our form with magic causes this."

Abednego shakes his head. "Nay, Mistress Butler. 'Tis the breaking of the oath and the spell bound to it that causes warlocks to change. None of your folk have sworn the oath-."

"Some have."

I frown. "Why?"

"The fools feel the guilt of their ancestors. That this is a punishment sent by God. Perhaps some hope that they may be absolved, changed back and so return to 'righteous' society."

"Can't help with God, but if all that's happening is that your Sheeda genetic characteristics are getting hyper stimulated, resetting it should be easy enough. You'll need to remove your ward, but-."

"Hah!" I think that's a genuine expression of amusement; her altered facial structures make it difficult to tell. "Is this the type of man your land breeds, who would snatch a woman's cloak from her body within minutes of meeting her!"

"Yes, because I derive most satisfaction from solving problems, and this is an eminently solvable one. Failing that, it shouldn't be too hard for us to relocate all 'warlock-breed' to another part of the planet. You'd be safe from the Columbians there, at least for a few centuries."

"And what do you want in return?"

"Technically, nothing. I'd do it without asking anything in return. We would like information on the Sheeda, examples of their physiology and technology and any leads you have on who it was that attacked us, but if you refused us I'd still try to help you anyway."

She regards me cautiously for a few moments.

"We are hunters and farmers. We know little of the Sheeda. Any help I could give you, you could get better elsewhere. The witch-man's people could help you more."

"I said I'd help for nothing, and you think I might take that back because you're offering something?"

"And the other villages could offer you more. One… They try to study magics that are forbidden. I have not tried to confront them because I lack the power, but if our attackers are warlock-breed who found some way to change themselves further, that is where I would look."

Mr. Yao nods.

"We shall enquire with them once we have seen to your people's needs. If-."

The cart appears on the bank of a small river, a crudely-built town just ahead of us. No paving here, and I suspect that if we were in the rainy part of the local year the streets would be a quagmire. Ghostly lights illuminate the buildings, which are a mixture; wattle and daub walls are the most common, though some appear to be tents with leather in place of canvas. Some have roofs crudely made from bundles of branches and others use what looks like segments of the shell of giant beetles. As for the people, Mistress Butler appears to be an average representative. Some are closer to human norms, with a signature mutation or two. I see one man with standard puritan dress who could pass in Columbia if not for the strange tentacle-like structures which emerge from his head. The most extreme example has all of Mistress Butler's mutations, as well as compound eyes, fangs and a single dragonfly wing emerging from their back.

"Aye, not a pretty sight, are we?"

"I've seen worse."

"I'faith, if my brother and sister witch-hunters saw these people as we do now, I believe there would be less animosity between us." Abednego pulls on the reins and the horses come to a halt. "If it please you, Mistress Butler, take us to the site of one of the disappearances. Even my more fanatical brethren would say that the presence of true Sheeda should be my priority."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
01:50 GMT -5

"This is a maggot pit."

It's a maggot pit.

A hundred and thirty three Sheeda maggots writhe at the bottom of a steep-walled pit as a local youth throws the chopped entrails of various local animals down to them. The maggots orientate on them at once, squirming towards them. The youth has skin of a shade of deep pink that I've never seen on a human, and his fangs are so pronounced that they jut out from his mouth top and bottom. He's also really thin, though I'm not sure if that's a mutation or just his build.

Or malnutrition.

"What happens when they reach maturity?"

"They don't." He raises his right hand, a witch-sign glimmering between his fingers. He swipes it over the rim of the maggot-pit, and as it swings I see the invisible signs branded on the 'foreheads' of each of the maggots illuminated by its ethereal light. "We bind them to this form as we in turn are bound."

"And what do you get out of them?"

"Maggot milk."

I blink. "And you..? Drink it?"

He looks at me like I'm an idiot. "No, good sir. It's a resin. We use it to keep the water from our homes and our boat."

I nod and.. look away from the maggot pile as they pull the offal into their mouths. Aside from the other four pits I can't see any other pastoral areas. They've tried to keep as much of the tree cover from the surrounding areas as possible, and the sloped sides of the gully we're in create a canopy of greenery which will probably make this place dim even in the day.

"Mistress Butler mentioned other farm animals?"

"We let them roam. We couldn't feed the live ones close to the village, and the dead ones we keep for times of direst need."

I look at the giant undead cricket-spider that's staring off towards the village edge. I suppose that being hunted by the Sheeda is a pretty good example of a dire emergency.

"Do the maggots react to the intruders?"

"No reaction I could ken. Though they are maggots, sirrah."

Fair point. Not like they're about to start singing. Still, I can scan them and their undead fellow Sheeda creatures without difficulty, and I've found something jolly interesting. There are segments of their genetic material which are shared, completely identical between each type of Sheeda creature and the warlock-breed but not the Columbians. But I'm not completely sure what it actually does. It looks like it creates a protein which absorbs contaminants in the blood stream to aid the liver in filtering them out into the waste system… But the physiology of a maggot is radically different to the physiology of a giant insect. I'd assume that it's engineered in, but there are several ways to create something that would be better at the job. And they also share chunks of non-coding DNA whose purpose I can't decipher.

I suppose if Melmoth was just breeding naturally… Or raping the women in his power for the fun of it, he wouldn't check which parts were transmitted due to a lack of genetic technology or a lack of desire. But they're active in all warlock-kind, whatever their physical mutations.

"Tell me, do the physical changes you possess relate to those of your parents?"

"My mother shared my teeth, sirrah. But if there's a pattern beyond that, I see it not."

They don't run in families, but there are definite commonalities of style. The same things are mutated, and in only so many ways. They're not just getting animal parts randomly grafted on or having their bodies twisted like they were plasticine in the hands of a cruel child. There's some purpose at work here.

I sigh inwardly. But I think it's a purpose that requires a team of biomancers to understand.

"Did you grow up around here?"

"Somewhat close to here. Then the witch-hunters came, and their.. fire."

Ah.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

He snorts a humourless laugh. "'Tis our lot in life. Neither our mannish forebears nor our Sheeda forebears have any love for us, and most warlocks don't either."

"I'm-." I frown. "People like yourself, or first generation warlocks?"

"Both. I have only seen a warlock once, and he and his grundymen hurried through here without stopping. They felt only contempt for us. I could taste it."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally, though his scowl made his mind plain." He shrugs. "I taste it with my eyes."

"By spell, or an innate ability?"

Another shrug. "I don't use witch-sign, but maybe there is some other kind of magic? May I take my leave, sirrah?"

"Oh. Of course."

He turns and strides away, which-. He's been feeling my avarice. That… Must be uncomfortable. And if he's just feeling that it's there, he might not see what it is that I want.

I give him time to get away, then walk away from the pit and back towards Mistress Butler's home. Two rooms and a dirt floor, though the glyphs around the wall work to keep out moisture. Along with the maggot milk, presumably. There's a saw propped up against the outside wall, and it isn't made of metal. It couldn't be; they have no way to mine iron or copper and trade with the Columbians isn't possible. And stealing would be entirely too risky. Instead, this saw is made from part of a macro-insectoid's body. A foreleg, I think, with glyphs carved into it to extend its lifespan.

The door is open so I wander inside, where Abednego, Mistress Butler and Leonid are looking over a crude map. They look around as they hear me approach.

"We need actual researchers. I think there's something revealing going on, but I don't have the skills to study it."

Abednego raises his eyebrows very slightly. "Oh?"

"I'm not a magician. I can recognise some things based on what I've studied, but if someone's done something genuinely original there's no direct way for me to study it. Unless someone wants to go warlock while I watch so I can see exactly what happens."

"What is it that you have found?"

"There are certain characteristics of the body common to warlock-breed and all Sheeda creatures that I've been able to examine. It's not in people like yourself, or completely Sheeda-free humans like Starfire or me."

"Be it in the grundymen?"

I nod. "Yes. It's probably why branding works. Have you ever tried to brand a warlock?"

"No. Pistol shot is my preference for such as they."

"Do you know if it works?"

He shakes his head. "It has not occurred to any who would put it to paper to try. And I'll not be expecting the warlock-breed to volunteer for such treatment any more than I would turn myself warlock to assuage your curiosity."

I nod. "Mistress Butler, would your people mind our magicians coming here?"

"Now?"

"No, not right away. We only brought one with us and he's busy at the moment. It will be several months from now. And in the mean time… Would you like me to do some work on your town?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
02:23 GMT -5

"Wards still alright?"

Mistress Butler cautiously nods as she taps her right foot on the tarmac which now covers the village's main road.

"What be this made of?"

"Concrete, bitumen and small stones. It'll hold up to repeated impacts and water no problem."

Once it became clear that Mistress Butler wasn't fleeing a war party, most of the locals went back to sleep. Right up until the village around them turned orange.

I know it's more efficient for me to badger people into doing research that will improve our knowledge of the universe and open up new technological possibilities, but there's something I find really satisfying about building things. It's like how I always tried to capture buildings in Command and Conquer even when it wasn't efficient to do so. It's not a good idea for me to spend my time like this, but it's… Nice, when I get the opportunity to do so.

Mr. Yao smiles as I lower my rings. "If you are finished, we have our next objective."

I nod. "The original settlement or the Sheeda-ites?"

"The Sheeda-ites. The identity of our attackers is a more urgent concern than studying their history."

I nod. "Right you are. Are we getting back on the cart, or can we fly now?"

He turns away. "Get in the cart, Orange Lantern."

I stride after him. "How about if I fly straight up and then straight down again? The spells can't confuse my mind if I don't use it."

"What would happen if someone tried that to get to Themyscira?"

"The spells around Themyscira obscure it from detection until you're right on top of it. If you get close anyway they generate a sudden storm, but if you tough that out you can get there safely. That's how Herakles managed it."

"These spells were put in place by the gods of Themyscira?"

"By the five goddesses who are their patrons, yes. And yes, I know that they're going to work better than thousands of badly maintained spells put in place by badly trained humans, but that's why I think I can probably bypass them."

"And warn our targets that you have that ability."

I raise my hands. "You're in charge, Physician. If you want to travel by cart, we're travelling by cart." I walk towards-. "Oh. Mistress Butler, you haven't had anyone who wants to risk me altering them to human physiological norms, have you?"

"No, I have not. And having heard you say that you know naught of magic, I doubt that folk will be."

"Alright, but remember that the offer was made."

"Yes." She looks around at her reformatted village. "I think I will be long forgetting this."

The cart rocks slightly as Leonid lands, while I just float over the side and land lightly. Mr. Yao climbs in from the rear while Mistress Butler and Abednego take position at the front. I could improve the village as long as I left anything with a glyph on it unchanged, but this whole cart is covered in them. I couldn't even add tyres. I mean, it's got leaf springs, so it's not as bad as what the Amazons use, but it's not exactly an easy or comfortable ride.

"Onwards, my boys."

Abednego doesn't bother with the reins this time. The horses clop forward, apparently untroubled by the novel road surface or the fact that I was performing transmutations directly in front of them. But I suppose that they were raised in a society of magic users.

Leonid leans forward. "Mistress Butler? How much contact have you had with the people we are visiting?"

"Nothing for eight years. Five years ago a warlock came though here and asked for directions, but we have seen neither hide nor hair of him since."

"What.. part of the year five years ago?"

We exit the town and.. our surroundings begin blurring again.

"What import is it?"

"Given that warlocks are uncommon, I imagine that he'd just become a warlock and other people had been aware of it. Particularly given that he had functioning grundymen with him."

Abednego glances back at me before returning his attention to the pathway.

"That does not necessarily follow. Between here and the land to which Melmoth brought us there are like as not a great many unhallowed bodies."

Leonid frowns. "That was five hundred years ago. Should they not have rotted by now?"

"No. Our bodies do not decay, but rather ripen after our deaths. Our grundymen have far greater strength in death than they did in life."

"I assumed that was…" He looks at me. "I don't know the English. Hysterical strength?"

"Hysterical strength."

"Yes, hysterical strength."

"I be not certain what that is, but I be confident that is not what it is."

"Yes, those Sheeda traits that Columbians don't have in life become active in death." Ugh. "Maybe I could ask Natasa to come here to study the process? I don't know any pure non-sacred necromancers."

"Sacred necromancers?"

"Not Christian-sacred. Pagan-sacred." I frown. "I mean, I do know some Christian magicians… But one's a papist and the other's a werewolf."

Who surprisingly got in touch with me via the Justice League to find out if I knew where John Constantine had gotten to. Given what Brother Chalice did to him during that whole Nameless Beast mess I was surprised that he cared. I mean, yes, werewolf battle monk. If he'd been seriously annoyed he'd probably have eaten John…

"And neither of them are necromancers."

"In Russia, we have werebears."

And that goes on the slate. Along with finding Cyrus Gold's corpse and seeing if he's got Sheeda blood in him.

Mr. Yao looks thoughtful. "Mister Abednego, will you need to conceal yourself when we arrive? If they study forbidden magic and harbour warlocks, they will not welcome you."

"Nay, Physician. My dress is not so outlandish that they would comment, unless I brandish my pistols. If they ask, tell them that I am a guide."

"As you will. Mistress Butler, please tell us what you can of their people and home."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
02:57 GMT -5

"You know, I think I need to tell Batman about this."

Leonid frowns faintly. "Yes. He will want a full report."

"No, no, I mean…" I stamp my right foot twice. "The cart. He likes to be fully prepared at all times, but at no point in our training were we stuck in a cart for hours. Hey Abednego, the booby trap spells you were talking about. Do they go underground?"

"They do not. The maggots do, but the spells do not."

"If we negotiate a settlement of some kind, I'll build you a tunnel network before we leave."

"I think perhaps that no agreement could be wide-reaching enough for that to be-."

The blurred landscape around us winks out, replaced by a dull blue emptiness. The runes on the cart ignite, radiating out of the wood and metal with enough intensity that I blink and try to look away. Abednego and Mistress Butler have witch-signs in hand, and the tone of Mr. Yao's humming has changed.

"Cunning." Abednego's signs shift, twisting and moving. "'Tis a while since I have seen such a thing."

I consider asking what happened, but it's best to let them work through… Whatever just happened. I could offer to help, but Mr. Yao knows what I can do and will ask if he thinks it would be useful while the other two don't know how their magic interacts with my constructs. Leonid looks at me curiously, but I shrug and shake my head.

Mistress Butler glares at the nothingness. "A wrinkle in the fabric of the world. Warp and weft twisted aside-."

"I be having the gist of it, Mistress Butler. I pray you have patience."

MALEVOLENCE.

Oh.

"Did anyone else feel that?"

Abednego nods. "They're not so foolhardy as to let things like that into the world, but they'll bait a line with us if it stays in the river."

A vaguely… Cone-shaped distortion is.. growing larger. I'd say 'in the distance', but I've got nothing to use to judge scale by. Construct armour and charge an energy pulse.

Mr. Yao looks at my left hand with concern.

"I'm not shooting it, I'm just getting-"

Our surroundings… Bubble, patches of rocky scrubland appearing and vanishing in an uneven mess-.

The springs screech as the cart drops onto the stony ground, wherever we were vanishing back to wherever it was. Mistress Butler staggers off the front board to touch the ground and even the taciturn Abednego looks relieved.

"Was that..?" Leonid looks mildly bewildered. "Bad..?"

"Yes it was." Abednego nods. "Yes it surely was. Though I suppose to one who knows naught of magic it would merely seem-."

I release my blast, the giant mosquito shimmering into being and being torn apart by the orange energy! A warbling note from Mr. Yao highlights another two, which swiftly join their colleague in oblivion as Leonid leaps from the cart and pulverises them with his fists!

The witch-signs etched into their carapace fade and fail as they bleed out, and I start scanning. Yes, Sheeda creatures, the signature biological markers are all there.

"Hid in the eddies of the spell." Abednego nods. "Cunning. Mayhap this is their perimeter watch, and they will bear us no malice?"

I spin out filaments, running them along every surface and up into the air-.

I grip and pull an object unseen but still tangible.

"GAH!"

Orange light grips a humanoid outline and slams them to the ground as Abednego steps up and thrusts a burning witch-sign to their face, particles of illusion flaking away and revealing… Black armour, in a shape nearly but not quite human.

Abednego lifts his brand away and steps back.

"We do not come here for war, but you'll not find us lacking."

"Aye, witch-man, you being here while we are at our weakest is the devil's mischief alone."

"You live far from our towns and villages and we know little of you. Even should I want to, I could not act on knowledge of you I do not have. Pray tell, what malefactor is it which afflicts you? For you are far from the only afflicted in these lands."

I lean closer to Leonid. "I could see through that. Our attacker's concealment was much better."

He nods, keeping his eyes on the newcomer. "Yes. I could feel the wing-beat of the insects. And I think Physician could hear them."

Mistress Butler steps up beside Abednego. "Speak, girl. I know Abednego as I knew his master; he bears us no malice."

The helmet turns our way. "And what of them?"

"W-."

"Yes, we are here to help as well."

As he kneels down and hums at her I remember that Physician is in charge of this, and bite down my intended introduction. I've got out of the habit of acting under someone else's direction in the field. On team missions I lead a squad, and when I work independently I direct myself. I.. don't think I like this, but I suppose that if I wanted a Justice League slot then I should have handled Nabu differently.

Avoiding the mild irritation wouldn't be worth it.

"That-." The figure in armour shakes slightly as Mr. Yao's pitch changes, and then a degree of tension leaves them. "Thank you."

"Please. We came here because we wish to fight the Sheeda, who threaten our world with a Harvest fleet. When it comes, we will have to fight millions of invaders. We must learn all that we can of them before that occurs. If you do not trust our word, at least believe that we are interested in our own people's wellbeing."

"They're here."

"By that, do you mean 'right here'-?"

"They came to our village months ago. We thought they were outcasts as we are, but the creatures of the Sheeda obeyed them more readily than they ever obeyed us. We should have-." She snarls, then pulls herself upright. "They wanted to know about Melmoth, about our history. Seemed to be a natural enough thing to question. We showed them the Old Town. I did not myself see… What happened, but my-. They got into one of Melmoth's armouries. Took his weapons for themselves and announced that we would be their slaves in the name of their Queen."

Yes! They're actual Sheeda!

"Those who resisted or fled, they slew. Our only freedom comes from when they hunt for others."

Mistress Butler scowls.

"And what do they do with them?"

"They do not invite us to join them. But we do hear the screams."

Abednego nods. "I wonder, child, how it is that you escaped to be here?"

"I did not. I hoped to find something I could trade to them."

"So that they might leave your people in peace?"

"So I could become more like them. Strong and powerful, not an ignorant savage living in a forest."

There's a moment of silence.

"If you help us kill them, I can augment you using their corpses."

Mr Yao, Mistress Butler and Abednego turn their heads to look at me.

"What? I can."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
03:09 GMT -5

The trees are dead as we approach the pro-warlock settlement. Still tall, still solid to the touch, but there's not a leaf on their branches and their bark has.. taken on an almost… Varnished appearance. I'd ask what the heck happened, but we're moving into contact and I don't want to make unnecessary noise.

My preparations for our second encounter are taking most of my attention. My armour's kinetic barrier has been redesigned to reduce the noise it generates when it touches things to near nothing. That cost me its ability to absorb kinetic attacks, but the Sheeda didn't really use those last time so I think it's reasonable. I ran out of internal space for the phasing and invisibility systems I usually use and the next-best replacements wouldn't work well together, so I decided to switch invisibility for active camouflage that's merely good. Entropic weaponry doesn't exactly have a counter… Well, it does, but you have to know exactly how the person shooting you is accessing the Bleed and I don't.

The next best thing is messing up their target acquisition system. Which is what phasing, camouflage and… Dodging are for. In addition to that, a layered plasma shield where the charged gas films are interspersed with layers of vacuum tends to slow down the rate at which it chews through the target. Doesn't really work well with the phasing or the camouflage, but if they've got exotic target acquisition or anti-phasing technology or magic I expect to find out quickly and switch over.

I've also done something that I wanted to avoid doing and implanted my rings inside my body, with one in my chest and the other in my skull. My fingers have glowing pieces of plastic on them instead. A head shot… I'm not completely confident in my ability to survive one. Then again, I'm not confident of their ability to survive me, either.

Leonid said that he was just going to use his own speed for defence. It's not.. a terrible approach, assuming that he can hurt them. Mr. Yao also declined my help, while the magic users have done something.. unsettling-looking with the blood sample I offered them. They're flickering in and out of visibility now, just… Visually merging with their surroundings.

On the far side of the tree line the bare earth starts. The wraith that I think is Abednego takes the lead, and… A shimmering path over the hard-packed soil appears. I drift along it, noting the difference in philosophy as I go.

Mistress Butler's people hide under the canopy, minimising their footprint and using concealment magics. These people clearly don't care about hiding. This is landscaping for fortification: to better enable them to fight potential attackers. They're not hiding at all. Not from a visual inspection at least; I can't speak for their magic efforts. And the wall at the top of the earth slope is made with… Flesh. Beetle shell and beetle meat, human bones and ligaments, wood… All magically preserved and fortified. They drew the runes with artfully arranged veins, and in my rear view camera I can see Leonid glower.

Pretty big wall, and our girl from the inside -who's bound, gagged and blindfolded and geased against using magic for about four hours according to Abednego and is very definitely being kept on the outside- said that her people aren't doing their usual patrols. Their Sheeda overlords didn't order it today, and they've been doing the stupid-evil thing of killing people who try to be helpful when they weren't ordered to be. Still, I'm a little nervous to be floating my head above the parapet, but I'm following the shimmering 'safe' path…

Head-mounted camera shows no activity, and between optic camouflage and my wards I should be pretty hard to see. And.. over I go, up and… Down. Not touching the ground but floating just over it using my kinetic belt.

The buildings are made of… Not sure. It looks like macro insect shell, but crafted with far more skill than the roofs of Mistress Butler's village. Purpose-grown house insects, or perhaps force-grown after their death? Another subject that will be interesting to study at leisure.

Their windows even look like insect eyes. I mean, they're not; I checked. But in the white dwarf's half-light it would be easy to imagine. The individual houses are fairly large and solidly constructed and I can see a few that have been destroyed with vehemence. The carapace is melted and the building sagged before rehardening, the eye-window holes empty and… Yes, the bodies left where they fell.

No Sheeda in sight as yet. No Sheeda insect mounts. Just a shimmering path from the blood-seeking spell Abednego and Mistress Butler cast, leading further into town. Nowhere else to go.

I'm… Getting vision on the town folks. Some of them, anyway. A few who feel brave enough to move through the streets, more sheltering in their homes. Their mutations are more uniform; human or waif proportions, thin limbs and short tentacles projecting from areas of dull green skin. That can't be chance. I think they've learned to at least somewhat control their changes. That could be invaluable for the others.

The blood-path is leading towards… Not the largest building, but one which holds the relics the locals excavated from Melmoth's former home. A sensible enough place for them to make their base of operations. No idea if any survivors from amongst those abducted from Mistress Butler's village are held there, but after killing the Sheeda we can look for them at our leisure.

The door to the landing area is open-.

There's a giant fly that's looking very dead. Tougher looking than the other Sheeda-insects that I've seen, yet somewhat… Bleached? Plus the burns from-. From Leonid's energy blasts. If I'm reading its physiology correctly, it would have lived long enough for a short flight… I don't think we're close to where we encountered the Sheeda, but the locals have shown the ability to reanimate Sheeda creatures. Perhaps its rider kept it going?

The other two giant flies are stabled, troughs of meat paste being rapidly emptied by their proboscises. They've also got the same slightly-bleached look, so I'm going to assume that's what 'Feed Me' does to them. The glyphs inscribed on their carapaces are still there, though, so it didn't drain their magic… Unless they're so innately magical that all I'm seeing is the altered colour. Scanning them is a risk. Shooting them dead… I would expect a magic-focused civilisation to have riders bound to their mounts in some way, so that would tell them that they need to be on the alert.

There's a door here to the interior, and I can see though the external windows that there's light inside. Phase through or try opening it? There are risks-.

A shadowy man figure peels away from a patch of darkness and passes his right hand over the door frame. I don't see a glyph, but a moment later the door retracts and Abednego disappears again.

Good show. Of course, I'm not going to assume that was sufficient to stop whoever is inside from detecting that the door was opened.

I float inside, putting a little more speed into it. Yes, this looks like some sort of military barracks. Wide corridor, thicker walls, bunks…

I can hear something.

The shimmering path leads onwards and left. The sound is coming from the right. No words, just objects moving against each other.

No. Follow the path.

The building isn't huge; this isn't a particularly big settlement and wouldn't have much use for an inner keep. If the witch-hunters got this far then they weren't going to be stopping. It's only about twenty metres further where the path takes me into… A room with… Pits, about two metres by seventy centimetres, filled with… Pale green gas. Fog. I can't see into them any significant depth and I'm not sure how far down they go. The shimmering path leads to one.

I float over to it and look down. I guess that my attacker is in there. Cleaning? Medical? Some sort of healing pit? I dimly remember the Sheeda in the comic using something a bit like this to travel through time, and… Wasn't there a cauldron?

If this is for healing, now seems like an excellent time to assimilate a Sheeda. But I need to confirm this Sheeda's location as well as the locations of the others before kicking anything off.

I float away from the pit, getting a mild frown from Leonid as I do so. Yes, I know we're following the path to our destination but the target isn't here. I look at Mr. Tao, and he nods and gestures to the exit. I float-.

"MRAAAAAAAAAGHHHHuuuugggghh…"

I don't remember the Sheeda particularly caring about the infliction of pain per se, but they certainly don't care about the wellbeing of their guests.

I turn to Mr Tao, who nods and motions for me to investigate, along with-. Ugh, those two puritan-shaped blurs. He then points to himself and Leonid and the pit. Right, makes sense. I'm pretty sure that Leonid can kill anything he can get his hands on, and neither of them have invisibility. If fighting starts they can catch us up.

I trigger my phasing system and fly in the direction of the scream.

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
03:16 GMT -5

The first bunkroom is just that: a bunk room.

The second is also a bunkroom, but this time it's occupied. Warlock-breed lie on the beds, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. They appear to be wearing… Whatever the Sheeda picked them up wearing. No… Obvious-. Ah, a neck clamp of some sort. Presumably holding them in near-total paralysis, 'near-total' because I can just about see them struggling to breathe. Storage for whatever they're planning on doing with them? I'll come back once the Sheeda are dealt with.

The third room is also a bunkroom. And a mortuary. Or.. possibly meat storage. I don't remember whether the Sheeda had any particular problem with cannibalism. The bodies have been mutilated, cut open and… Parts removed. There the flesh has been stripped from the left side of the skull, which in turn has been opened to allow the removal of parts of the brain. Next to that unfortunate a rib cage has been opened up and the lungs and liver are missing. The rest are in worse condition still. I'm not sure which part of this world the victims came from. I can't see any mutated parts, but I'd have to check their genes with an active scan to be certain.

Why be selective? There's no way they have the facilities to analyse arcane physiology like this here. Are they removing them? Planning on taking them back to the future for some reason? I'd consider it as taking hunting trophies if there was any rhyme or reason to the parts they were taking. Donation? I wouldn't think so, and the remains here certainly seem… Fresh enough.

"Mamuraghahhhhhhhhh…"

I phase through the wall in the direction of the noise.

Two figures in bleached armour are standing next to a warlock-breed who is strapped to a mobile platform. The one on the left is holding some sort of beetle, which is chewing through their victim's right arm. No, chewing though connective tissue, like a scalpel with mandibles. It looks like the warlock-breed has.. some sort of exoskeleton growth? And it's being peeled away in sections. Other pieces of skin have already been removed, and laid out on a… On an organic frame, which appears to be supplying them with a green fluid in place of blood from a slowly-beating bladder at the base.

"We are fortunate with this one."

"Melmoth's loss is our gain."

"Come now. This would not have bought him back into her good graces."

They're both fully armoured but I can only see their side arms. And as far as I can tell they're both looking at their victim. Who's still conscious, but no longer able to make noise due to the damage to his throat.

"Nor would it us. I am concerned about the Lantern."

They ride giant insects and their surgical tool is an insect. That skin loom thing looks… If not 'alive' then at least biological. Is their armour alive as well?

"Why? This world is far from Earth."

"If the profligates have Lanterns, that implies that they are close to freeing themselves from Earth. If that is true, then this harvest-."

Left glares at right. "Do not speak it."

"As you insist. But you understand-?"

Left returns his attention to his victim. "An alternative would be preferable in any case. Something that gets us out of the sun. Events merely emphasise the importance of-" With a tug a section of carapace comes free, and it gets attached to the frame. "-our work here."

"Melmoth's work here. It is unfortunate that he is dead. It would be enlightening to question him."

"I will trust Melmoth to remain dead when the Queen eats his still-living body, and not a moment before. I suspect that we will find his trail once we move on."

"The leg, you think?"

"The fleshborer thinks not. The taint of summer's dawning is too great for it to have use to us."

"It is well-intact."

"We have no need for revenants. These people are broken. It would serve no purpose, even as a distraction, and our flies are well-fed."

"It seems so wasteful. We could create a true reclamation vat."

"I did not volunteer for this duty in order to 'recycle responsibly'. For this brief time we may be as profligate as our ancestors. I suggest that you enjoy it, for it will not come again."

"The Queen's order-."

"Applies under the vampire sun, yes. But we are no longer there. And her commandments relating to Earth do not apply, for we are not there."

"True. But if we are to be profligate, may we not do so properly? The larger settlements are more likely to have treasures worth plundering."

"Alas, we are bound to our task. Still… It would not hurt to acquire specimens from there also."

"And food, and drink."

"If you wish to be violently ill, be my guest. We are not as our ancestors were."

Left shrugs and gestures to his victim's throat with the beetle.

"A simple fix. I could take his tongue and temporarily replace my own. That would grant me the taste."

"If you could make it function, which is not a certainty."

"I would have many attempts."

"Perhaps. We must process our current cull first. Then if Anarawd has not stirred himself there would be no harm in it."

Left raises his beetle.

"May he rest well and true."

He moves it towards his victim's throat-.

I take an x-ionised blade out of subspace and send it at his throat!

He reacts a fraction of a second before it hits, catching the blade on a neck-ring rather than the seam I aimed for as he turns aside and tries to crouch. The construct holding the blades registers the hit, but his head remains lamentably on his shoulders. He backpedals while his colleague draws his gun and fades from view.

I drop the blade and open fire with a mixed volley of crumbler and phasic rounds at the one who went invisible, while the other gets an orange energy pulse as I move around the room. An entropic beam punches a hole through the wall where I was a moment before, and some equipment is knocked back as my railgun rounds hit something. The orange energy pulse wrecks the other Sheeda's side arm and it-

"E-h."

-stumbles as the gun's power cell detonates against its leg.

Then Abednego steps out of its shadow and jams a witch-sign through its helmet's eye, causing it to freeze up as the sigil shudders! Railgun rounds clearly unreliable I switch to a beam singularity and fire an arc across the origin point for the entropic ray. The Sheeda fades back into visibility, my beam having caught him across the hips and sliced him in two. He's still alive and he's dropped his gun, but he's bleeding freely and from his limpness I see that he's not long for this world.

I send out filaments and stop the bleeding, then reach into his soul.

"Brand."

His torso spasms, his eyes snap open and flare orange-.

His body collapses, decaying into flakes of dust that I turn my sensors up to maximum to try and analyse… No, I'm not getting anything helpful. I know what ash looks like.

Abednego's opponent appears to have a similar reaction to his witch-sign; his eyes flare white as Abednego steps away and-.

Dust again.

Damn it-!

No, can't worry about it. I remove the severed tissue from the frame, press it into the wounds of the vivisection victim and take out a purple healing ray.

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
03:27 GMT -5

Anarawd sticks his head up through the mist, then freezes.

Mr. Yao nods politely. "Greetings, Anarawd."

A shift in the position of his right shoulder suggests that he's reaching for something.

I raise a construct autocannon. Abednego holds two pistols at the ready. Leonid brings his energy blasts to the 'ready to fire' status.

"I would advise you to think very carefully before doing anything precipitous."

Anarawd relaxes his shoulder, then raises his hands. I note that he's not wearing the armour his comrades were, meaning that I'm getting my first good look at a Sheeda. His nails are inch-long claws and his fingers are just slightly longer than those of normal humans. His skin is bone-white, and the tips of his ears extend to the level of the top of his head which is shaved but for a top-knot. A thin decorative tattoo has been stencilled across his forehead and his eyes are a gloss black in iris and sclera.

"Thank you. I was not certain that Sheeda could surrender."

"Huuuuuman."

"I am the Accomplished Perfect Physician. Would you like a hand out?"

The Sheeda's eyes narrow. "You will die."

Mr. Yao nods. "Yes, someday. But not today, and not by your hand."

Anarawd considers for a moment, then puts his hands on the edge of the pit and pulls himself out. Stronger than a baseline human would be with arms that thin. He's still wearing a pair of pants, and there's an unpleasant-looking knife strapped to the belt. He doesn't resist as Leonid relieves him of it.

"Do you have my colleagues?"

"I regret to inform you that they are dead."

"Then.. I am your prisoner." He brings his wrists together in front of him. "What will you do with me?"

"You will be interrogated at length. We know that there is a harvest fleet due to return to the present. This will be the final Harrowing."

Abednego places manacles around Anarawd's wrists, locking his entire forearms together. He then kneels to lock looser chains around Anarawd's ankles before standing and looking the Sheeda over.

"The terror of my forebears. 'Tis a strange thing to see you in the flesh. Do you know what Melmoth had planned for us, or are you ignorant of his aims?"

"I am not of the High-Born. Whatever schemes Dark Melmoth had in mind, he would not have stooped to tell me." His eyes narrow slightly. "And if you have slain my colleagues, you must have some idea of what we are doing. And if you know of the Harrowing, you must know something of what my Queen has planned. I am uncertain of what knowledge you hope to gain from me."

Mr. Yao nods. "And uncertain you may stay. Mister Abednego, can you secure this prisoner?"

"Aye, though it is not our common practice."

"You have a common practice for Sheeda?"

"Aye." He nods. "We have slain every Sheeda we have ever fought. T'was but one before today, but we were thorough with it." He puts his right hand firmly upon Anarawd's left shoulder. "And I would consider it no bad thing to add another Sheeda to that tally, so tempt me not."

He pushes Anarawd, and the Sheeda begins walking where Abednego indicates.

Leonid and I turn to Mr. Yao.

"What now, boss?"

"Orange Lantern, please inform the surviving people of this town that the Sheeda are dead. If there is some connection to their world and era, try to discover it. If they have physicians, ask that they come at once to assist Mistress Butler. Starfire, please pick up the young woman who aided us and bring her here so that Mister Abednego can unbind her."

"Sir, she said that she wanted to become like the Sheeda. Are you certain that we should release her?"

"That will be up to the people of this town. We are not here to set this world to rights."

Leonid nods, and we turn to walk towards the exit.

"I'll have to test how effective this armour is later."

"They did not detect you. I would say that it was effective." He grimaces. "That was disgusting."

"Your first time seeing mass murder?"

"Yes, thankfully." He shakes his head. "We are shown pictures. We see the remains of the dead that are recovered in the field to try to reduce how it shocks us. But to pin a man, a woman or a child to a bench and then cut them apart with a beetle… That is not the same thing as dying in battle." We reach the courtyard in silence. "It was not your first time?"

"My first time was after Klarion split the world. I don't know if you heard the interview, but I spent some time removing the bodies of children whose aircraft crashed."

"The League asked you to?"

"No, it just needed doing, and since I can't be traumatised like a normal person anymore I thought it was best if I did it. Diana still needed to bench me after I went into a fugue at the sheer senselessness of it."

I look over to where the flies are continuing to eat, blissfully ignorant of what's going on around them.

"The gordanians I marooned?" He nods. "They used implanted bombs to keep their prisoners in line. I've seen recordings of what the psions did to their prisoners; recordings made by the psions themselves for entertainment purposes. I've seen recordings of Spider Guilders eating the crews of entire ships alive, and I've seen the Reach drug entire planetary populations into executing each other." I shrug. "We deal with these things so that other people don't have to."

"How fortunate for us."

"Would you prefer it if we weren't?"

"No, I suppose not."

I shrug. "I'm afraid that all too often this is what the job is about. You… Find a pile of bodies and deal with it as best you can. I'm sorry, but I'm not really… Shockable in the way that most people are. I can get Lantern Gardner to talk to you if you like. Or… I think Robin's encountered a few things like this if that would be easier."

"No, I… Think that I will talk to my priest, when we return. And… Perhaps I will request a leave of absence."

I nod. "Quite reasonable, under the circumstances. But… Look, I know that the Russian government wants you to graduate to the Justice League eventually. This… Is unusual, but-."

"But I will see it again. And again." He looks at the ground for a few moments. "Yes. Yes, I understand. This is the job that we take on."

He rises into the air, and flies back towards the dead forest.

Right then!

I fly upwards and generate giant sonic projectors and cinema screens showing my face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it is my great pleasure to announce that your Sheeda domitors are either dead or in custody. Your town is no longer under their control. Would anyone with medical knowledge please report to the barrack building. Would the town mayor or other civil leader please report to the barrack building for a full debriefing. Would anyone with an immediate security concern please report it to the glowing orange man. Would anyone…"

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd May
09:29 GMT -5

"O-h."

I smile at my interviewee. "Mister Rathaway, please, come in."

"Ah… Right."

The young man comes into the office I'm using in the Weatherly Building on Sullivan Street, Metropolis, just about managing to avoid catching his briefcase in the door as he closes it. While the charity Lex set up to handle this sort of thing generally conducts interviews -such as they are- by video link or on-site visit, it has nonetheless proved sensible to actually have somewhere physical in which to base operations. And to allow the occasional meeting with someone who… Is between workspaces.

"Mister Rathaway, thank you for coming." He's standing a little way away with his briefcase clasped like a shield. "Would you like to..? Take a seat?"

"Thank-thank you." He stiffly comes forward to sit in front of my desk, running his right hand through his hair. "Sorry, I just… Wasn't expecting you-. To-to do the interview personally."

"Oh, I usually don't. But I like to stick my nose in to things I'm attached to every so often, just to check what's going on. And unlike my fan mail, I can't outsource this to the genomorphs."

"You.. outsource fan mail?"

"Flash probably could handle all of his if he really wanted to, but for someone like me it's just not possible. So I could either ignore it, set up some sort of automatic boilerplate letter, or have my in-house hive mind write what I'd have written if I'd read it."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I mean-."

"So while I didn't actually write your reply, I did check it before taking this meeting, and I'm very glad that you took g-dwarf four seven eight's advice." I gesture to him with both hands. "So why don't you show me your work?"

He nods, still visibly off-balance, and lays his briefcase on the desk before popping the catches and opening it up.

"I was born deaf. I've got-" He turns his head to the left, reaching up with his right hand to pull his hair back from his ear and revealing a small scar. "-an implant now, but I was wearing a hearing aid in elementary school." I nod, and he drops his hand and faces me again. "Getting.. the implant… Growing up having to plug myself in when I wanted to hear anything, that made me very interested in how sound works, and all of the applications it has. Sound has an emotional impact on people, not just in… Reminding them of things, but in actually… Reliably, measurably affecting their mental state. That's… That's what I got my Master's for, and now I'm looking for sponsorship to develop the technology commercially."

"That's what we're here for." I smile. "What can your technology do now, and what are you hoping to be able to do with it?"

"At the moment I've got a device the size of a flute that can… Make people extremely suggestible when they hear the music it plays. Only while it's playing, but it works on just about… Everyone. Ah."

I nod. "I was assuming that you would have tested it exclusively on humans."

"Sound energy is kinetic energy transmitted by vibrations. If a person can hear, then they should be susceptible, but that only applies to humans. I don't know how your species would be affected."

"What degree of control does it grant the musician?"

"That depends. A short burst of sound can… Make a person make a sudden movement with.. their arm, without knowing why their arm is acting up. An ongoing song can make a group of people stand still or walk somewhere, but it's pretty obvious that they're not acting of their own volition."

"How do people feel about being controlled after they… Wake up?"

"Usually, if it's their first time they're a little scared, but obviously I let all the volunteers know what was going to happen in advance. As far as I've been able to tell, there's no lasting effect from the control; it's completely limited to controlling physical actions."

"And the effect only lasts as long as they can hear the sound?"

"A few seconds after it stops, then they snap back immediately."

I nod. "That's got some obvious applications as a low lethality police weapon."

"It's not low-lethality, it's zero lethality. This isn't a sonic cannon, Mister Grayven."

"There's no such thing as a zero lethality anything. What does it do to people with a hearing-impairment? Or synesthesia? Or when the one playing it doesn't notice that the person they've ordered to walk is reaching the edge of a cliff?"

"I… The sonic waves can vibrate bone, so unless they're deaf due to damage to their auditory cortex it shouldn't matter. I had one of my assistants test it on me and it still worked. Synesthesia or.. a cyst on the auditory cortex, it.. should just fail to work. And with the cliff thing that's not the music that's killing them."

"It's less dangerous than a firearm or taser. I just want to make sure that you understand that if your end product gets sold as a weapon, someone will eventually die from it. Of course, weaponising this technology is far easier than doing anything else with it."

"That's… That's kind of why I'm here? I'd like funding to investigate other uses. To see if there's a sound for making angry people calm, or making people more alert or attentive."

I smile. "Stranger things exist. Do you have a full written proposal? With costings?"

He nods and pulls out a binder, laying it down next to his briefcase. "Of course I do. I want to get this approved. I don't wanna get tossed off the lot because I didn't read the requirements."

"You'd be amazed how many people don't." I take the document and begin skimming it. "And the thing is, due to the sort of person we're trying to attract, we actually can't just throw them out if they can't put a written proposal together." He frowns. "I mean, don't get me wrong, this definitely helps, but these grants are intended for potentially violently destructive would-be supervillains. Half of our staff are qualified psychotherapists for a reason."

"I'm-. I'm not a… Supervillain."

I look up from his document and raise my eyebrows.

"Sure thing, Pied Piper."

"Oh, Jesus, the rats were just a test-run. I wasn't actually-."

"Ah! You didn't mention that. It's far easier to get approval for Jain-friendly pest control than for anything involving humans. Can you make instruments that just work on vermin?"

"Yes, I could make one… Shaped like a dog whistle. It would be… 'Call' or 'flee' only, but it wouldn't be hard to make. It just seems… Kinda…"

"If you can reliably remove all the rats from a major city, not only will you get enough money not to need our help, but you'll reduce the spread of infectious diseases. I'll be happy to recommend that we accept you on-" I tap the folder against the desk. "-the basis of this alone, but in purely self-interested terms that may be the best route for you. Obviously our.. colleagues in LexCorp will be delighted to help you with the business side, if you choose to make use of-"

Lantern Grayven, we have a problem.

"-them." I push my chair back. "Excuse me."

"Ah..?"

I stroll over to the window. We're only just past morning rush hour, and there are plenty of people in the streets below. They're.. pointing upwards, phones out. I look up as well, but I can't see anything from here.

Sinestro?

I believe it's the-

Red beams flicker down, punching through buildings and people with equal abandon!

-Sheeda.

And then I hear the screaming start.

I turn back to Mr. Rathaway as I take my weapons out of subspace and summon my drones.

"You have a prototype in that case?"

He nods, pulling out a flute and nervously bringing it to his lips as I generate construct armour.

"Keep it with you. You're going to need it."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th Pflugzeit 2510
Early afternoon

"That's… Curious."

Aranei frowns at the standing stone in the middle of the village square. Around us, a curious mixture of Bretonnian peasants and beastwomen work to prepare the fields for our first major planting. The beastwomen were a major find; far stronger than normal humans but far more sociable than their male brethren, they've been perfectly happy to pitch in in exchange for protection and a share of the crop. I'm still not really sure why the females are so different to the males, and Aranei hasn't really been able to help me. Neither healing people nor subtle ghur manipulation were really the focus of her magic education.

"What is?"

I took a bit of a risk in picking up a selection of potatoes from Lustria; I remember hearing that they can be poisonous and the lizardmen certainly never bothered to put them through the selective breeding process which humans did back on Earth. But as best as I can determine they should be sufficiently safe and nutritious to join turnips, oats and legumes in the local diet. Peasants in Mousillon have some fishing but not a significant amount of herding, which seems odd to me. As a result, while most of the Dark Elf residents are a head taller than me poor diet means that I've got at least that on the locals. Those who didn't have some sort of gigantism-granting mutation, at least.

"The distortion in the winds of magic which I felt last week." She gestures at the stone, causing the runes carved into the surface to distort very faintly as she makes use of the region's natural magic flows to try and narrow down the source of the oddity which has drawn her attention. As I'm not a magic user myself there's no.. light show. Not that I can see, anyway, but I've at least gotten to the point where I can tell that something is happening. "I've been trying to study the after effects, and I believe that I have a better read on it."

"Can you tell what it is?"

She makes a face like she just bit down on an unexpected lemon.

"… No. It wasn't an ignorant human wyrd drawing upon the winds in ignorance, or a daemon or chaos spawn."

"A vampiric transformation?"

"I doubt it. It's too structured to be primitive dark magic." She considers that for a moment. "Though it is true that I have never had the opportunity to study such a transformation directly." She lowers her hands and pulls a map of the duchy out of her satchel. Unrolling it, she points to a location on the edge of the Forest of Arden. "There. Whatever happened, that was where it happened."

That's not… Too close by. Given the nature of this world I would prefer to keep my head down until I've had a chance to gain more experience, and even after I've spent months draining the local dark magic taint down to safer levels this duchy is basically Bretonnia's Sylvania. But large magic distortions happening in the vicinity of my home base is… Something I have to show an interest in before it blows up in all our faces.

"I'll take a look."

"You should take an escort."

I frown at her. "Who? The cloaks are a give away, the beastwomen-."

"I will accompany you."

I look at the spiked, skull-embroidered and generally minimalist 'I grew up in the arctic, this is roasting' clothing she always wears. "I'm not sure that's a better option."

She moues and raises her hands slightly. "Dress me in Ulthuanian garb so that I only intimidate the ignorant peasants. That will assuage your concerns, will it not?"

"I suppose." I focus on my desire to have her accompany me in a way that doesn't result in her getting shot full of arrows. The result is that her usual ensemble is replaced with a multi-layered robe in two tones of blue, with gold decorative thread work and borders. She looks it over and sniffs. "Tolerable."

I offer her my right hand and she gracefully accepts, returning the map to her satchel as she does so. Once it's safely stowed she nods and we shoot upwards, the world gradually spreading out below us.

"Such unthinking power…"

Aranei has a habit of… Purring when I do something like this. Her appreciation for having a powerful patron was one of the few non-evil things I found in her psyche when I 'operated' and I thought that leaving it would help her with interpreting her older memories. And it… Does…

I focus on the area she pointed to and fly us in that direction as rapidly as I can. We don't really have anything challenging us for airspace; Bretonnians do make some use of pegasus and hippogryph knights, but they're uncommon and they generally have better places to be than Mousillon. Getting spotted would be unfortunate, and having our point of origin spotted would be far worse. I can't afford to spend all of my time in the village if I want to get anything done, but I don't want to come back one day and find everyone dead.

Mousillon is heavily forested, not because it's naturally particularly fertile but more because there aren't enough people who want to fell it to make much of an impact. Most of the places that aren't covered by a forest canopy are bare because the soil literally can't support large trees; swampland and places where the topsoil is a few centimetres thick over chalk or stone. The land we're travelling towards is swampy, a narrow creek which-

Alert! Exotic contaminant detected.

-has some sort of magic taint to it. Ring, scan for people.

Compliance.

One person-. Oh. It's… Him.

"Aranei, you remember that Questing Knight who came across you a little after I did?"

"Yes? What of him?"

"He's the only person in the area you pointed to."

"I assumed that a fool like him would be dead by now. I suppose this speaks well of his strength of will, if not his sense of direction. Will we speak with him?"

"May as well."

And down we go.

I take care to come down well out of lunge-distance. And hopefully out of challenge-distance as well; the ground here would make any attempt to bury him quickly fatal. I'd been hoping since we hadn't seen him since that day that he might have left…

Huh. His surcoat is torn and muddy… Fair enough: we're in a swamp and he can hardly take a tailor with him on his quest. But his armour appears to be in a similarly sorry state, and I know that Bretonnian noblemen are taught basic armour and weapon maintenance. Bretonnian squires are trained peasants after all, not junior noblemen. And his face… It's not the beard; shaving regularly would be something of a luxury on a campaign, let alone a quest. It's the dirt and the fact that he's just staring into space without even a fire. He looks like he's been in the metaphorical wars when he'd only been trained for literal wars.

"Sir Mallobaude? Are you well?"

He looks around slowly as we touch down. From the looks of it he doesn't really care that we're here; he only moved his head on a sort of mechanical instinct. When his eyes finally alight on us there are a few moments of blankness, then a very dim light of recognition appears.

"Oh. You."

"I ask again, sir knight: are you well? You seem to be rather the worse for wear."

He turns his head away, looking over to where his sword lies carelessly discarded onto the muddy ground next to him.

Then he hangs his head.

"Leave me be."

"Come now, that's no attitude for a knight of Bretonnia when confronted with a man like me!"

Aranei flashes me a look of frustrated confusion and I respond with an 'I'm going somewhere with this' wave.

"I am no knight. Before you lie the broken remains of a fool.."

Aranei shakes her head. "'Fool', I'll grant you. But you remain unbroken in body if not in mind, and it appears my lord wishes to offer you succour. He's done the same to less worthy beings before, so I imagine that the offer is genuine. What ails you?"

"If you have any mercy then le-."

The three of us turn as we hear the sound of approaching hooves, and Aranei swiftly makes the gesture to inform me that magic was employed.

Scan.

Ah. A small party of lightly armed nobles. A hunting party perhaps. Their leader has a tabard of three black flowers over a black fleur-de-lis on a white field. And none of their hearts beat more than once a minute.

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th Pflugzeit 2510
Early afternoon

"Sir Mallobaude, is that you?"

The lead vampire reins in his… Undead horse a little ahead of his party, and regards the miserable knight with a look of sympathy. The four knights escorting him… One vampire, and the others… Wights, I think? They don't have the flesh to be vampires, but their manner is too purposive to be skeletons or zombies dressed in armour.

"Are you injured, sir?"

The horses strike me as odd. I would have thought that a vampire pretending to be a human Bretonnian lord would have raised a living horse to be accustomed to the undead, but that's definitely not alive. It's not a skeletal horse… 'Nightmare'? It could be a reasonably intact zombie, or… I don't remember anything about non-human vampires in Warhammer, but I suppose it… Could be a vampire horse. Or a wight horse? Are wight horses a thing?

"Crippled in spirit, my lord. Hale in body."

Oh, so the vampire gets a polite response, but I get told to buzz off. I look at this lord's face for a moment. Ah, Mallobaude doesn't know the man is a vampire. That's… A problem.

Vampires are fast. I remember when Warhammer Armies: Vampire Counts was released, signalling the switch from general undead to all-vampires all the time. There was a short story in White Dwarf where a necromancer out-magiced his Necrarch master only to be killed by his brute speed and strength. I don't know exactly what that high initiative and strength translated to in real life; I've put more effort into trying to avoid standing out than hunting the undead. I don't know if he's fast enough to kill Aranei before I can grab her, or if he's strong enough to kill me though my environmental shield.

Magically I'm not too worried. 'Levels' were a game mechanic, but vampires do make poor magicians and Aranei has dispel magic scrolls. Destroy Magic scrolls are a bit beyond her, and she'd never even heard of the nifty hex scroll which turns the enemy caster into a toad. But unlike a vampiric lunge, spells have a bit of a build up and she should be able to warn me.

And speaking of the revenant, he regards me for a moment with a mild frown before dismissing me. Aranei gets a slightly more considered look, presumably because he thinks she's probably a user of high magic and so a major threat to the undead, though possibly because her outfit causes him to class her as 'foreign noble, probably more trouble than it's worth'.

The moment passes, and his focus returns to Sir Mallobaude.

"Have you encountered some impediment to your quest? If your trail has gone cold I'm certain we could find something in Mousillon for you to slay in the Lady's name."

"Her name." He gives a huffing, desolate laugh. "Why? My quest is complete. I have drunk from the grail. I…"

"But this is marvellous! Please, come to my estate. I will put on a feast of celebration!"

Just in case this vampire is one of the sensible ones, I shake my head at him.

"What did you see, Sir Mallobaude? What did the Lady show you that has affected you so?"

"We are pawns to the gods. That is what she showed me. All our virtue, all our martial pride, and all that she values in us is our ability to serve her."

The vampire affects a puzzled expression. "Do you not want to serve her?"

"I expected to serve an end!" His anger pulling him out of his funk slightly, he pushes himself to his feet. "To create something! A kingdom purged of the taint of chaos! Some recognition for my sacrifices and achievements! Instead-." He shakes his head, his passion evaporating. "Instead, the Lady told me directly that she regards us as pawns, that our struggles are merely to get us to a point where she considers us worth investing in." His head falls. "To hear valorous knights demeaned in such a fashion by the one they.. serve…"

The vampire nods. "It is… Shocking. As a knight myself, it… Chills me to my heart to hear such a thing. And you are sure that the visitation was genuine, and not some… Chaos-spawned illusion?"

Mallobaude shakes his head. "No, it was exactly as the legends described. As my father described. The Lady, the cup… And not merely that, she told me that there is no fundamental difference between herself and the Dark Gods, merely a divergence in opinion! That we knights are as deluded as the madmen who sell their souls to Chaos!"

The vampires nods. "This is not something you can keep to yourself. If the entire knightly class of Bretonnia is being deceived by a malevolent patron, they must be informed, that they may cleanse themselves."

I frown. "Why?"

The vampire's eyes dart my way for a fraction of a second though his body continues to face Mallobaude, trying to convey with his general demeanour that I'm not worth listening to.

"Because a knight is sworn to truth and honour, and continuing to practise deceit upon his fellow knights fails to uphold either."

"True, but… The fact that the Lady commands Bretonnian nobles to follow a particular code for purely selfish reasons doesn't take away from the value of the work they do while following it. If a beastherd threatens a peasant village with murder and rape, do the villagers care whether their saviour cries 'For the Lady!' or 'For Sigmar!' or 'In the name of Asuryan!'? No, they do not, they merely care that they are saved. I see that your goddess being indifferent to your deeds hurts you… I'm sorry, but I've never been a man of faith myself. When I do a good deed-."

"When you save pirates from righteous vengeance."

"Come with me, and see the village their labours have built. See the new mill, the irrigation systems, the school and the forges. Speak with them, and learn how they feel about their new lives."

He gazes at me blankly.

"If you serve no god, why do you even care?"

"Because you are a man, as I am a man. Because you are distraught, as I have been distraught. Because when I do good, the consequences of that goodness are all the reward I need; the gods could spit on me and I would still be happy."

Now the vampire is glaring at me.

"And what of the service rendered? If the gods merely demand the service of mortals for their own amusement, that is not an affront that can just be ignored."

"A saint and a highwayman are both made of the same meat. And the best revenge on a lying goddess is to live well in spite of her." I raise my eyebrows. "And I'm a little surprised that a vampire includes himself in the 'mortals' category. You are aware that you can't permanently die, yes?"

Mallobaude straightens slightly.

"A vampire?"

"A family affliction; I manage it as best I can."

I smile. "At least you're not a Nagash-worshipper. But alright; I think that Sir Mallobaude's best course of action is to devote himself to his people rather than his goddess. What would you prescribe?"

"Tear down the faith. Show his-." He turns back to Mallobaude. "Your fellow knights that they have been deluded. Slay the false prophetesses and the liars who serve them. Take Bretonnia for yourself, free its people from their divine oppressor!"

"And kill thousands… Tens of thousands of men and women whose only crime is to believe the same lies as all of those around them? And replace the existing order with what? If you tell knights that their faith is a lie and they believe you, what rules will you put in place to guide them?"

"They will follow him if he has the strength to lead!"

"He barely has the strength to stand upright! Sir Mallobaude, come to my home. Speak with my people. Let me tell you about my plans for the world, and how gods are not invited."

The vampire frowns.

"Sir Mallobaude, ignore this prattling peasant and accept my hospitality. We can send out messages to my neighbours that you may share what you have learned. Even if you choose to take no other action, they deserve to know."

Sir Mallobaude raises his head slightly, and chooses.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Faed Away

Earth 12
15th January 2002
10:37 GMT -5

The Brown farm has clearly seen better days.

Back in 1997 a farmer by the name of Enoch Brown developed a growth hormone which could turn a normal farm animal into a giant farm animal. He first unveiled it to the public at the Gotham Agricultural Expo, where he displayed a sheep nine feet tall. He claimed that his work could end world hunger, which was obviously incorrect… But maybe he just made that claim for press release purposes.

But whatever his work could have done for the world of agriculture, his work came to a screeching halt when the sheep broke out of its cage and ran amuck. Mr. Brown gave it a sedative and no one was significantly hurt, but the resulting panic spooked a local judge into ordering him to cease his research and barring him from bringing giant animals into Gotham. I'm not… Quite sure how a judge had the authority to do that, but no one other than Mr. Brown was interested in contesting it at the time. I suppose that after the first few 'angry' scientists the people of Gotham rather lost patience with that sort of thing.

What happens next is a relatively predictable revenge story where a slighted scientist uses his work to take revenge on those who've wronged him, leading to a brief altercation with Mr. Wayne and his eventual incarceration.

Between the criminal damage, assault, blackmail and the attempted murder of a police officer, both Enoch Brown and his daughter Emmylou Brown received rather substantial prison sentences. And yet, a mere three years later, Emmylou Brown is out on parole at the family farmstead. I suppose criminals being in and out of incarceration is something else that Gotham has gotten used to, as I wasn't able to find a mention of it in the local papers. I only found out by chance, when I tried to get Detective Bullock to talk to me about some of the local… 'Characters', and he definitely hasn't forgiven her for trying to feed him to a giant pig.

Given that this is private property and I'm in America, I make a point of having my hands empty and clearly visible as I walk up the driveway. Neither she nor her still imprisoned father have any history of using firearms, but I imagine that's one of the things that prison life can teach you.

"Hello!?"

The newspapers said that the animals were removed after their arrest, a claim confirmed by Detective Bullock. He also said that some people 'from the Feds' went through the laboratory to make sure that it was safe. But while owner and daughter were in prison no one was doing any upkeep on the place. The fence around the farm has lost most of its paint to the elements and is rotting in places. The land is almost completely overgrown, and even the dirt lane from the closest road appears to have the weeds cut back only recently.

"Hello?! Miss Brown?!"

It's quiet out here. We're far enough from Gotham that there's barely any noise from the city other than the occasional muffled blast of a foghorn from the docks, and at this time of year the wildlife isn't particularly active.

"I'd like to talk to you about your father's work!? If that's at all possible!?"

The house and farm buildings look mildly dilapidated, but the house is more of a piece of cover for the underground bunker where most of Mr Brown's sensitive work took place. So once the mess the hazardous materials team made is cleared up it should still be perfectly habitable.

"Excuse m-?!"

A hard door slams and a well-built young woman in farm overalls strides out, glaring at me.

"WHAT?!"

I stop talking, because while Miss Brown isn't technically super strong she's still far stronger than someone of her proportions should be. Strong enough to lift an obese police detective over her head and throw him with no apparent effort.

"I'd like to talk to you about your father's work!"

She's striding towards me and looks irritated, though whether that's me or the situation I'm not at all sure.

She slows slightly, looking at me suspiciously as she gets to within non-shouting conversation distance.

"Who are you, anyhow?"

I smile warmly. "My name is Peter Wynne. I run a company called 'Schizo Applications'. We specialise in helping people bring.. exotic products to market, and fund research with the aim of turning good ideas into marketable ideas. I.. heard about your father's work while I was in Gotham-"

Deciding that if the local version of Pamela Isley was 'turning people into plants' crazy then she was a risk beyond what I'm willing to take.

"-and I thought that I'd see if anyone was home."

"This here's private property."

"And I'll leave at once if that's what you want. I.. did try phoning, but I couldn't get through-"

"They cut us off."

"-when I-. Yes. And you didn't reply to my letter."

"Mail man don't deliver 'round here."

"So I thought I'd pay you a visit in person. Though -as I said- if you'd rather I leave then I'm happy to do that."

She tilts her head to the right, her gaze more quizzical than suspicious.

"Who'd you say you worked for again?"

"'Schizo Applications'. And.. I don't work for them. I own the company. We… Recently became the largest supplier of electricity in both North America and Europe?"

"They cut the power, too."

"Ah." … "Sorry?"

"None'a Pa's work had anything to do with electricity."

"I've already got electricity. But I think that there's a market for enhanced farm animals… Perhaps not as enhanced as some of the ones which you and your father produced-"

"Mister Bleaty just got scared by alla them flash bulbs!"

"-but there's definitely a market there. As well as for your own enhancements."

She frowns.

"You work fer the gub'mint?"

"No. I mean, we probably supply them with electricity, and I've.. been involved in negotiations with various government bodies… I'm not sure what you're implying."

She nods, her face relaxing.

"Don't pay it no mind. My daddy's not here right now. But if ya'll come up to the house I'll listen to your offer."

I nod. "Thank you. Though before we can begin… Can I make sure that your release from prison was legitimate? It's just.. something the human resources department are a bit hot on."

"I ain't suppose to talk about it. Daddy made a deal, and I'm out."

"'Out' as in you were pardoned, or-?"

"I ain't suppose to talk about it."

"But nothing that will stop you being officially employed?"

"No."

"Well, that's.. fine, then."

I suspect that someone in the superhuman security apparatus pulled something. That or Lex Luthor paid someone off. But she's out and the local police aren't planning to try to arrest her, so that shouldn't be a problem.

"Have you been back long?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 12
10th February 2005
13:14 GMT

Oh my.

Oooooh my.

Lantern Stewart leads the way through the corridors of the Watchtower, past the staring gazes of the various.. superheroes I can… Mostly recognise. Red Tornado, yes, Elongated Man, yes, and… Bwana Beast? Others… Don't ring immediate bells, though with the more conservatively dressed ones I'm not completely sure that they're not part of the crew.

The whole thing's a bit out there, and-

"Hey, Mister Wynne!" / "Hey, Peter."

I wave back. "Hi guys."

-Courtney and Patrick are the only people here I actually know.

"So… A space station with artificial gravity. Human technology, or did you import it?"

"Wayne Technologies reverse engineered it from crashed Thanagarian ships after the occupation."

Perfectly plausible. While I employ a large number of Thanagarians, plenty work in other places and my employees are mostly ex-soldiers rather than technology specialists. And there's nothing stopping a company with the right connections mastering Thanagarian technology with human scientists. I know perfectly well the sorts of things that human technologists can do when they set their minds to it.

"I see." I look around and… That's Crimson Avenger. I've tried to get my head around this… Whole thing. I know my DC, and Crimson Avenger was chronologically one of the earliest superheroes. If that holds true here then he should be about eighty by now, if not older. And yet he's a contemporary of someone like Bwana Beast rather than the far older Wildcat. "So is Batman planning to give me the ring he stole from me back at any point, or do I have to sue you people in open court?"

John Stewart doesn't turn around.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you really think I don't know the difference between a glowing piece of plastic and an actual power ring? I was willing to chalk it up to a temporary attack of Bat-paranoia, but since it hasn't reappeared in my safe yet I thought I'd use the opportunity this represents to raise the issue directly."

"You'll have to talk to Batman."

"Or I could talk to the Sector's senior Green Lantern, who he almost certainly asked about it. Lantern Stewart, that's theft. The Justice League does not have the authority to confiscate private property on its own recognisance."

This time he does stop, and glances at me. He looks slightly uncomfortable, but I suspect that's more due to being discovered than actual guilt.

"That depends where you got it from."

"Lantern Stewart, I employ a great many lawyers. I've checked in every jurisdiction in which I do business. And I can tell you now: it does not. I could have stolen it from Ganthet's laboratory and it wouldn't make the slightest difference to the legal position. Earth does not have extradition treaties with other planets. If you think I stole it from someone on Earth you can apply for a confiscation order and have me arrested. What you can not do is steal from me."

He looks mulish, which I suppose is a job requirement for a Green Lantern. Or maybe it's not? I'm not sure whether the local version of the Corps works on pre-War of Light principles or post-War of Light principles.

"Do you want me to serve him papers in his public identity? Because I'm not playing around here; you will be returning it to me, or that's what will happen."

"We don't take kindly to threats."

"And I don't take kindly to theft."

We spend a few moments staring each other down, but dealing with recovering supervillains on a daily basis has caused me to grow a considerably stiffer spine than I had when I first arrived on this Earth. While I don't think I could win a staring match against someone with an environmental shield under neutral circumstances, he knows that he's in the wrong and that if it came to it I'd probably win.

He looks away.

"We don't have it anymore. It's on Oa."

"Do you routinely trade in stolen property, or am I uniquely privileged?"

"We wanted to make sure you weren't dealing with Qward. Since they're the only other people who can make power rings, it seemed like a reasonable guess."

I frown.

"All the maltusian factions have the ability to make power rings. You've met Star Sapphire. It's not like the Guardians are the only ones who can do it."

His eyes glow for a moment.

"So you're saying you got it from someone the same species as the Guardians."

"No, I'm saying that if you can't produce the ring, plan legal action is a go."

"I'll-. Ask them."

"They've got until my legal department complete the forms." I look around as Booster Gold and Blue Beetle try to pretend that they're not listening in on our discussion. "Though I'm willing to extend considerable leeway if I get an orange personal lantern out of it."

"That isn't gonna happen."

"I can't sue the Guardians, but I can sue their agents. I haven't expanded my operations off-world yet-."

"Just-. Come and meet the rest of the founders. We can talk about this together."

I nod and shrug, and he continues to lead the way through the Watchtower, towards some sort of meeting room.

"Yes, in a meeting where I'm outnumbered seven to one. That sounds completely reasonable."

"If you're this angry about it, why-" The door opens and he leads the way through. "-did you agree to come here?"

I raise my right hand to greet the rest of the founders.

"Because I thought it was just Batman being sticky-fingered." I glare at him. "And yes I did realise that you stole the ring from my safe, Mister Wayne. You'll be hearing from my lawyers. And imagine how disappointed I am to learn that you are all in on it. Is your new motto 'Truth, Burglary, and the American Way', Mister Kent?"

He exhales. "Batman.. told us about that after he did it."

"And did you tell him to give it back? Or did you rubber-stamp him sending it to Oa, the last place I'd want it sent? Handling stolen goods. Is a crime."

"So… Okay." Flash raises his hands defensively. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. Ah. Yeah, the ring thing… Probably didn't make the best impression, but we just got our asses kicked by a parallel universe version-"

Batman, Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman are glaring at him.

"-of you, and we were worried you might be planning something."

"I'm planning a court action, yes."

Okay, I think I've made my point there. The ring will either come back or it won't.

"I've never met a parallel universe version of myself, so I can't vouch for them. But there are counters to any approach; some better known than others. If you fought a version of me and lost then he probably had more resources to draw on than I do; I'm pretty sure that even if I had the ring back I couldn't beat you. So I can't help you there."

I shrug.

"What else did you want to talk about?"

Batman leans forward slightly.

"I'm interested in getting your take on League operations. You've clearly given the matter some thought."

"My first thought is that breaking the law in front of someone who knows your secret identity is a good way to bring the whole thing crashing down. Governments do not like losing the monopoly on the legitimate use of force, but they tolerate you because you're popular and generally do a good job. Lose one of those and you'll see anti-vigilante laws getting enforced again." I shake my head. "What sort of guns does this station have?"

Manhunter's face betrays nothing. "That is highly secure information."

"Because I've looked at the publicity images, and I couldn't see any gun ports. With lasers and railguns you could cover something like… Sixteen percent of the Earth's surface with flak batteries to intercept missiles and attack craft. You'd need more platforms to complete the network, but I doubt that Earth's governments would complain about guns that couldn't target the surface. If you want any other advice, I'll need access to your databases."

"And the God damned ring back."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd May
14:16 GMT -5

"…mortal remains of our brothers and sisters in Christ to the earth."

I was somewhat relieved to learn that the inhabitants of this town don't routinely strip their dead for parts.

"That they may in the fullness of time rise once more to aid their living kin."

Not because what they do is less ghoulish, but more because it's less Sheeda-like. 'First' funerals aren't that big a deal in Columbian society, and it looks like that's a tradition the warlock-breed have maintained. It's not until a person's final death that you can fully commemorate their lives. They don't bother trying to convince themselves that the grundyman they've raised is just a mindless and soulless zombie; their theology makes specific reference to the fact that they're not.

"I shall now read from the Gospel of John, chapter eleven."

Abednego looks around the crowd of mourners, who I suspect are gathered here more because it's a social event than because they're particularly interested in what this outsider has to say. They started depositing the bodies as soon as the holes were dug, and I started doing that as soon as they were all identified. The holes were something else that's different from Christian burial as it's practised on Earth; they're only two feet deep to make pulling the grundyman out easier, and the corpse gets rope wrapped around the torso for much the same reason. And they're buried face down so that they can't climb out on their own.

"'Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village…'"

They're actually paying more attention to the ropes than to the bodies, something... I suppose that I should withhold judgement until I observe a second funeral, but I already know that Lord Hades wouldn't like this. I shake my head and turn away as Abednego continues his reading. I offered my aid in making repairs, but unlike Mistress Butler's village the people here have enough of a resource surplus that they can afford to do things in the manner of their choosing. They don't want help from me, and they don't want me to disrupt the magic they use.

"…join us here."

Mistress Butler is talking to one of the village's two surviving 'shapers'. Magic users who specialise in biology, though they'd be totally out of their depth talking to a true biomancer. Everything they do relies on the Sheeda traits that they and the Sheeda creatures possess.

"That is a generous offer, Mistress Ginter, though you will have to forgive me if I am somewhat surprised by it."

"We have empty homes and work enough. Our need is greater than our reluctance to involve those who do not think of our condition as we do. We are not unaware that the Unenlightened threaten you and those other settlements close to their lands."

"Will you also make such an invitation to the other villages?"

"If we can safely make contact with them." She turns to face me. "Is that a thing that you may accomplish?"

"I keep getting told 'no', due to the danger that the spells pose. I doubt that I could do it without the Columbians detecting it."

"Do they not know that you are here?"

"They know that my colleagues and I are heading this way. They don't know exactly where we are or who we're talking to. As I see it, any risk incurred would be yours, so if you want me to make the attempt I'll put the idea to Accomplished Perfect Physician."

"And in return, you would ask us to show you Melmoth's Tomb."

"We're rather hoping this motivates you to do that anyway. But… No. I am willing to do that anyway. Though I suggest that you give more thought to the offer I made to relocate you."

"I accept that you made the offer in the spirit of kindness, but we will not be moved to suit those people."

"I didn't make the offer to please them, I made the offer to preserve your lives. And theirs. To my mind, if two peoples have such irreconcilable differences, moving them to separate locations is a perfectly sensible thing to do."

"No."

"Mistress Ginter-."

"We will not do it. Not while they still take the pledge. Not while their timidity still gives rise to warlocks. We will not abandon the few free-thinkers who can escape from their iron-bounded civilisation."

I bow my head slightly.

"I'm.. saddened to hear it, but very well. If we're fortunate, it will be unnecessary. Regarding the Tomb-?"

"Your Sheeda prisoner can show you its treasures better than any of us. Unless you want a tour of the place."

"I would, actually, though I suppose that it's not a priority." I hesitate. "How are.. your people feeling about this?"

"We will mourn our losses. And our weakness. But more than anything… There is almost a relief to it."

Mistress Butler nods. "That we are not so similar to Melmoth that his kin would see us as their kin; that the accusations of the Columbians are fear-filled lies."

"I… Suppose. I referred more to the truth of our history. That the self-serving version told by the Unenlightened is not pure invention. That Melmoth's kin are as self-serving and cruel as their tale makes them out to be."

"I don't remember hearing them say that about other Sheeda, only about Melmoth himself."

"And how long were you amongst them?"

"No, I'm not suggesting that you're wrong; I'm asking for clarification. What do they say about other Sheeda? I'm working off the stories of a mad scientist who didn't actually see that much and the history of the handful of people who survived the last Harrowing."

Mistress Ginter blinks at me with both sets of eyelids.

"What be a 'harrowing'?"

"You don't know anything about where the Sheeda come from?"

She shakes her head.

"Okay, well, I suppose it can't hurt to give you a summary. The Sheeda are the-." They left in the sixteenth century. They're very unlikely to have a concept of natural selection or evolution. "-Are altered humans from a very long way in the future. They live on Earth, but so much has happened between then and now that it seems like a completely different place. Every so often they travel backwards in time and destroy civilisation. They loot everything they can load into their harvest ships and then return to their own era, but not before burning everything that's left. We don't know exactly how many times they've done it before; they're pretty thorough about destroying all traces. Melmoth was their king, but lost a power struggle with their current queen and had to flee. Exactly why he did any of-" I look around. "-this is a mystery to me, and from the sound of it the Sheeda here didn't know either."

"By whom were they altered?"

Hm. Worth asking, I suppose. Their whole identity is built around their difference, after all.

"I don't know. It could be that they changed over time, or that they changed themselves. I rather get the impression that you've been altering yourselves."

Mistress Ginter nods. "Based upon them. We have not created anything new, not to our knowledge."

"But you know how it might be done?"

"Yes…" She frowns thoughtfully. "Pray excuse me, Orange Lantern. I must.. speak with my people. We will arrange for a guide for you on the morrow."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
18:51 GMT -5

"This.. way."

Anarawd leads us through the desertified land that was once farmed by the Columbians. Scraggly grass sprouts through the dried plates of soil on the ground, and dead trees act as the only windbreak. A few miles away I can see the sea for the first time since coming to this planet, surf eating away at a shore with nothing to anchor it in place.

It looks like some combination of the passage of hundreds of years, hostile spellcraft and the elements have destroyed whatever the first generation built here. I'm a little surprised that there isn't some sort of monument here, but I suppose that would be somewhat out of character for the practical Columbians to build something they didn't have a material need for.

"How did it get like this? I mean, this whole continent has been pretty heavily forested."

Our guide, a local man named Peter, shrugs.

"Which part? This land is not a joyful place."

"The soil. If this happened in Melmoth's era, it should have recovered by now."

Abednego considers my question. "I think it started with rampaging Sheeda-beasts." He pats his spider on the head. "They be wont to run riot when unbound."

"And that damages the soil?"

"Much of their bodies are poisonous, and their habits are destructive. They are made for our labour, not to be a free part of Creation. The soil needs creatures to maintain it, and they were not proof against such things."

"Al.. right."

"We lack goodly records of the fight with Melmoth, but battle magics which drain vitality come natural to such as us."

Anarawd twitches, earning a curious narrowing of the eyes from Abednego.

"Some part of this could be from then, but I suspect that the greater part of it is more recent." Peter glares at the back of Abednego's head. "How long ago was it, witch-man?"

"Eighty years, or thereabouts."

"What was?"

Peter glowers. "An unwise warlock came here, searching for the means to undo the changes her body had gone through. Witch-hunters followed and found our town."

"Your town? Did they scout the area?"

"Nay. We used to live here. 'Tis the obvious thing to do, when you are no longer welcome in Columbia. The Sheeda-beasts live here in larger numbers than anywhere else, and there is the lure of finding relics. We gave the warlock refuge… But we did not spot the witch-hunters."

"And they did this? Or… No. They went back and got friends."

Abednego sighs. "Aye. That was the last time the might of Columbia was roused in wrath."

I look around the blasted landscape.

"Alright. An indiscriminate bombardment… Because the Columbians didn't know exactly what you had or-."

"Or they did not care."

"This is a pretty enthusiastic bombardment. I've only seen long arms with enchanted bullets."

Abednego raises his right arm and points to a.. shallow pond a short distance away.

"Witch-hunters mostly hunt warlocks and Sheeda-beasts, or apprehend more common criminals. But some have knowledge of true battle magics. They are not much called for…"

"The first our grandparents knew of it, the mere touch of the land burned all who stood upon it."

"Didn't they have defences?"

"Aye, wards to detect the beasts, or tell us when a new warlock was coming in case they were one of the truly mad. We remember Klarion even now."

"Good news on that score."

"We know that he left these lands."

"No, I mean that he's dead. I was part of the team that finished him."

"That is good news. But what one madman did, another can do as well."

"There's a way around that, but… Yes."

He frowns. "What way?"

"There's a limit on the number of Lords of Chaos who can be active in a particular area. If someone who isn't a criminal lunatic does it and then sticks around, you don't have to worry about someone who is doing it." I frown. "Um, sorry. Off-topic. So they weren't prepared for a Columbian attack?"

"No. They were not. Our protections are somewhat stronger, now. And we too study the magic of war."

"I've offered to just move all your people to somewhere else on the planet."

"Would that stop the Columbians coming for us?"

"It would make it far harder for them, and give you time to entrench yourselves."

"And our crops? And our beasts?"

"Crops I can move. Beasts… You'd have to make arrangements for them, but yes."

"And what would it cost us?"

"You wouldn't be here to pick up anyone who goes warlock in the future. You wouldn't have access to-" I look around again. "-this place, but if you weren't getting much out of it anyway-."

"If they were not getting much out of it then they were not looking correctly."

Anarawd raises his hands and gestures, a thin tower that looks like it was grown from coral shimmering into view. Peter and Abednego both blink, staring at it.

"Dark Melmoth may have hidden his tools from human eyes, but he made little effort to hide them from ours. Or perhaps he did, and time or his death has unmade them."

Mr Yao lays his right hand on the door, humming quietly for a moment.

"And what lays within?"

"My salvation." I frown as Anarawd looks around the group. "You will not defeat the Harrowing. Your future is in our blood. But the Queen will have my body given to the digestion vats if I return as I am now. My only way to buy myself back into her good graces is to discover Dark Melmoth's plans, and convey that information to her. My colleagues and I did not do more than a brief survey of the outer parts. We felt that the reward did not outweigh the risk. But if what you want is in here then our interests coincide."

I narrow my eyes-. Looks like he's telling the truth, and the witch-people went over him for arcane defences so I suspect that it's genuine. I nod to Mr Yao.

"As you say. Take us inside, and show us what you have found so far."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
19:22 GMT -5

I look at the hibernating maggot-like creatures with the very visible insects inside their translucent abdomens. Giant normal maggots, not Sheeda-maggots.

"Why..? Beetles?"

"Dark Melmoth wished to farm here. They would consume the stones in the soil, and excrete substances to provide nutrition to the plants."

Peter looks interested for a moment, before setting his face back into neutral and pointing his hands at the closest. A.. complex witch-sign appears between his hands.

"I notice that your people use a lot of biotechnology. Is there a special reason for that?"

Anarawd appears to try and decipher the reason for my enquiry. The conclusion he reaches appears to be 'person asking is a fool'.

"The magic we use to control them would hardly work on a mechanical device."

"Perhaps, but machines can be operated with magic; I've seen magic-operated mechanical arms. Is there a reason why you don't use those?"

"If you want to talk about the rulership of our society, I suggest that you capture one of the High Born. I have never seen machines like that, but there are many things which I have not seen."

Peter dismisses his witch-sign and shakes his head. "How do we awaken them?"

"They may be commanded by any who know the proper signs."

"Show me."

"Alas, I know only the signs for their cousins in the Land of Summer's End. Perhaps your people can discover it."

Which is fair. I wouldn't expect an office worker to know how to fly an aircraft.

"Anarawd, what exactly is a 'vampire sun'?"

"It is the malevolent orb about which our world rotates, feeding on the life and animation of all who dwell there."

"Do you know why your sun is like that?"

"It is as it is. It has been that way for as long as I have been alive. Perhaps even for as long as we have been Sheeda, and not human."

Peter glares at the maggot and tries a different sign, causing its beetle-sack to ripple slightly.

Mr. Tao looks thoughtful. "I am impressed that they have remained alive for so long. I cannot see any way for them to absorb energy. They are not eating. They are not exposed to the sun."

Anarawd makes a dismissive gesture. "This is no great span of time for one of our living tools. If the spells are properly laid in, they could survive the passage of eons."

"Does Melmoth have that skill?"

"I would imagine so. He is old in blood and bone, and led Harrowings before the Queen removed him from power. He would not have survived so long were he foolish or ignorant."

"'Is'? Do you share your colleagues' opinion that he's unlikely to be dead?"

"I have no special knowledge of Melmoth's status. These…" I assume that he's looking at Peter, though his sheer black eyes make it difficult to tell. "Descendents of his, may have been able to kill him. Those who lived here fell to us too swiftly for me to assess them. And anyone can be taken unawares."

"Abednego, did your people ever try to summon his shade?"

"We did not. That form of necromancy is proscribed, on pain of broken-oath."

"Do Sheeda bodies reanimate in the way grundymen do?"

Anarawd shakes his head. "When we die and our remains are taken by our kin, we are placed in the reclamation vats, that the materials used in our creation are not lost."

"Lost..?"

"To the hunger of the vampire sun."

"And that doesn't happen while you're alive?"

"Perhaps if we were to fly close to it. I have never heard of anyone try."

"But on the ground or in the air, you are unaffected."

"Yes. Though I do not see how our sun will allow you to prevent the Harrowing."

"I don't hate you or your society. My preferred solution is to find a way for you to exist without the Harrowing. To do that I have to learn how things work in your era."

"Would it not be better to solve that problem for your own era first? If nothing else it would give us more to take."

"I'm perfectly capable of creating a matter transmuter which runs on a Bleed torsion generator. No external input required; you can make whatever you want. I don't because I think it would destroy our civilisation. But if it's that or suffer through a planetary invasion I'm happy to toss you one or two."

Anarawd looks at me incredulously.

"What would stop the vampire sun from consuming it?"

"I-." I blink. "No wonder Sivana couldn't get decent data. He hardly ever used biotechnology. He had to outsource his own children's augmentation."

"Sivana? The small human with-. He devastated entire colony sectors."

"To be fair, if those colony sectors were generating the Huntsman your people sent after him, that may have been me." Hm. "Abednego, do your people have any record of the sort of creatures their forebears used while they worked for Melmoth?"

"Not that they put to pen." He looks thoughtful. "Though if there are unhallowed dead as date from that time still at rest in these lands, it would be no heresy to call them up and question them."

"Can grundymen talk?"

"Aye, well. There are spells to aid such things. But I must ask: to what end would I be raising it?"

"I don't know what's important. We don't know what Melmoth's ultimate goal was. Any firsthand account might be helpful, it might be informative or it might be useless. I have no way to know in advance."

"I will ponder the wisdom of it." He looks around. "I believe that we have seen all we may of this chamber. Anarawd, where else did you explore?"

"Further down. Though I warn you, if Dark Melmoth put any defences anywhere, they will be there."

"Did you discover some in your first foray?"

"Yes, but they were designed to keep out beasts. Sheeda-beasts and humans alike. They did not trouble us. But you are not Sheeda."

"'Tis a true statement. But I be somewhat more hardy than my forebears. Lead the way."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
19:37 GMT -5

"…say hold!"

The lines of green poison weave through the air and strike at Abednego's ward-signs even as Mr. Yao sings through the register-!

A stone cracks, shooting stone fragments across the room. The deadly tendrils fade a moment later.

Abednego lowers his arms and nods respectfully at Mr. Yao.

"Thank you, good sir. Melmoth was clearly both canny and vengeful."

Leonid winces slightly as he clenches and relaxes his right fist, the light of my purple ray playing over the area of his right arm where the strands touched.

"Yes, that feels better."

"Good show."

"But I do not understand how the spell got through your construct shield. It did not damage it."

"Construct shields only block tangible objects. It might look like a glowing strand of stuff, but as far as I can tell the light it gives off is a side effect of the passage of the arcane presence. I haven't… Yet worked out how to make my constructs drain magic by default." I shrug. "That's something I can work on while we're here."

Leonid nods, and touches his spell eater with his left hand.

"And this?"

"I never said that spell eaters are a perfect defence. Usually magic users try to power through the draining effect, but a sufficiently skilled one could probably find a way to bypass it. Any protection can be bypassed, though… I'd like Doctor Balewa to study the interaction."

Anarawd is standing back, not far enough to appear as if he's trying to escape but far enough that he feels justified in his hope that the defensive spells won't target him.

"You have Sheeda protective amulets? Did Sivana recover them for you?"

"No, I and an Atlantean magician called Sephtian developed them. Draining a spell tends to make it fall apart and prevents the more complex effects taking effect. And they eat through ongoing effects if the magician isn't continuing to supply them with power. We haven't ever really looked into sophisticated ways to bypass them, because… They're already cutting edge and they're not supposed to be relied upon."

"And you did not design them based on your study of the works of the Sheeda?"

"We developed them months before I had confirmation that the Sheeda even existed." I watch his face carefully. "Hey, is that temporal proof that we survive the Harrowing? The data had to-"

"No."

"-come from somewhere, and your people aren't particularly innovative."

"We may be less creative than the People of Spring, but we are perfectly familiar with spell-crafting. We could simply discover those same principles without your input."

"Did you?" Abednego and Mr. Yao begin cautiously surveying the room. Peter is giving Abednego the eye… Because the level of skill he just showed is above what he thought the average Columbian is capable of. That… Could be a problem, but we can probably explain it by the fact that he's a guide to the parts of the continent outside the boundaries of Columbia, and needed to study for his own defence. "Because that sounds like something that would cause the creator's name to be a rather big deal in your history."

"I have not studied our history in such detail."

"And I haven't studied avionics but I still know who the Wright brothers are. Still, it's nice to know that I'm such a big part of your culture; the last few time travellers I've met haven't even heard of me."

"No, that-." His eyes move away from us to stare at nothing. "No."

"And do you have records of how the Sheeda came to be? How you stopped being baseline humans and became this? Was it gradual or did you intentionally remodel yourselves?"

"That-." He actually backs up a step. "That does not matter. This is who we are."

I.. think I should give him a while to stew on that. I don't want to make him so afraid of what the truth could be that he does something foolish.

"It's interesting to see a time traveller so ignorant of history." I walk over to where Abednego is opening… Some sort of chrysalis? No, it's a living creature in its own right. "Found something interesting?"

"Mayhap."

It opens easily in response to a witch-sign, revealing a suit of armour like what the Sheeda wore, broken into parts. No, disassembled. This is an armour station.

Mr. Yao looks at Abednego.

"Mister Abednego? Is this significant?"

"We have not had a suit of their armour to study prior to now. Arrayed like this, 'twill be easier than with the damaged versions in town. Mister Anarawd, is this manner of device the normal way of arraying your armour when not in use?"

"Yes. When not in use. Simply taking it off in the field is…" He spreads his arms slightly. "Unwise."

His armour was pretty wrecked, and I'm not sure that we can learn much from it. But clearly it did its job, given that he's still alive.

Four more pods, four more suits of armour. Did Melmoth have accomplices, or did he just keep these spares for himself? For himself and any worthy descendants? Five suits of armour wouldn't be enough to conquer a planet, but perhaps it would be enough to carry out an assassination? Or reverse engineer to produce en masse? As a.. time traveller, I imagine that he was perfectly comfortable with long-term planning.

"How long would someone like Melmoth live?"

"Dark Melmoth often boasted that killing him was impossible. That a relic of one of the earliest Harrowings sustained him better than mortal blood."

"Is that true?"

"He… Survived a great many assassination attempts. Wounds that should have been mortal. Poisons known to be deadly. When a new attack occurred, he was said to make a great display of it. But… This is reputation alone. I was born under the rule of our glorious Queen. I have never seen him."

"And none of the assassins tried the whole 'fate worse than death' thing? Burying him in a solid block of concrete, that sort of thing?"

"The Queen has decreed something along those lines. I… Would imagine that it was because he was not entirely without supporters, who would see opportunities in defending him or liberating him. Or perhaps he stages the attacks himself, to better demonstrate his power. At this far removed, I could not say."

Abednego makes a slow circuit of the room, witch-signs faintly glowing as he checks for other traps. Leonid takes a closer look at the armour.

"Should we put it on?"

Abednego shakes his head. "I'd not recommend that, not unless your forebears were Sheeda."

"Or perhaps use it as a shield?"

"Without the correct invocations, t'would serve you not." His sigils dim. "The room is safe, as far as my magics can tell."

"Let's press on, then. I want to see if I can actually block the next attack."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
19:54 GMT -5

Abednego lowers his hands, witch-signs fading.

"It will not yield to my subtle magics, I'm afeared. All I can offer is best wishes and a blasting hex."

Mr. Yao nods. "Peter?"

The youth nods and steps toward, running his finger tips down the solid material of the door. The door… I wouldn't say shimmers, but my underdeveloped magic sense feels something.

Peter steps away. "Nay, sir. It responds to Sheeda blood, but it feels the manish blood within me and will not open."

I give Anarawd a quick repeat-scan, then synthesise a vial of Sheeda blood and play a purple healing ray over it for a few moments. Abednego frowns curiously.

"On my Earth, we have creatures called vampires. Intelligent animated corpses who maintain their existence by consuming the blood of the living. They don't have to kill to live, but the whole thing is a bit unsettling and I wanted to develop an alternative way of feeding for them. Our medical science is advanced enough to produce synthetic blood, but it lacks the arcane vitality which vampires need. This is-" I turn off the purple ray. "-vitalised Sheeda blood."

I float it closer to the resolutely closed door.

Nothing happens.

I uncork the vial and tip a small amount of the blood onto the surface of the door.

Nothing happens.

"Or it might not be a purely blood-based lock."

I tip the rest of the blood over my right gauntlet and step forward to touch the door myself.

Nothing happens.

I shrug inside my armour, disintegrate the blood and vial and than step back out of the way.

"Pass."

Mr. Yao nods. "Anarawd, what do you suggest?"

Anarawd looks uncertain. "Do you not have weapons?"

Another nod. "I could break this open with a note, but I would rather have this facility as undamaged as possible. Please step forward."

He hesitates, then comes forward with his hands forward and fingers outstretched.

"I.. cannot feel any of the spells which are in common use in the Land of Summer's End. Dark Melmoth may have a lock which is far more complex than anything I can open."

"Still, I would appreciate you making the attempt."

This is a curious question. How far can we… How far should we push him? He and his people are committed to killing most people currently alive on Earth and stealing everything they can carry. He hasn't repented in any sense and the only reason he's sticking with us is naked self-interest. If he's a prisoner of war we.. aren't supposed to compel him to assist us. Does Columbia have.. laws relating to war? They're certainly not signatories to the Geneva Conventions. And neither's Themyscira. And yes, precedent says that if a Sheeda war fleet was overhead right now I could mind control him, but… One isn't. I'm pretty sure that if he says 'no' that I could square it with my conscience anyway…

But is he a prisoner of war? We're outside Columbia's borders here. I'm pretty sure that they'd just… Consider him to be a bandit. If there was a reason for them not to kill every Sheeda they met beyond 'we haven't met any'. Which would probably mean execution. So…

Anarawd touches the surface of the door, and green… Veins? Marbling? Appears on its dark surface.

Anarawd freezes.

"Anarawd, do you recognise this response?"

"I am-. Not-. High Born-. This magic is more sophisticated than-"

The door turns to dust floating in the air, then vanishes completely. Anarawd takes a hurried step backwards, his hands still in their raised position.

"-anything.. I know."

The room beyond appears to be… A control room? There's a techno-organic control panel, what looks enough like an Atlantean illusory display that I'm going to assume that's what it is, and… Not a lot else? The interior wall has a knobbly surface but I can't see any runic inscriptions.

Kind of dull for a final room, but I suppose that Melmoth was working with limited resources.

Or maybe there was a guardian beast and it died.

Leonid glances my way and I grant him construct armour, working in enough rune work and hunger that it should work against exotic attack. But that's why we put the super tough guy at the front. Mr. Yao nods and Leonid cautiously advances, eyes at medium glow.

I generate a sensor array construct and get scanning. The material this place is made of is… Sort of like chitin, in the same way that ceramic armour inserts are sort of like clay. I don't think this was ever part of a creature, even a magically-constructed one. I really have to take samples for Sephtian; if Atlantean bio-artificers can replicate it then we might be able to get Atlantis into space after all.

Leonid makes a careful circuit of the room before turning back to us and nodding.

"Clear."

I enter next, focusing my scanning on the control console. It's resisting exotic scanning, but more mundane sonic and thermal scans show where it's getting its food from. Deeper underground, there are creatures bringing it nutrients. I suppose they must have been too deep for the Columbians' spells to kill them. Either that, or too different from things that would usually be considered 'alive' for it to have been affected.

I don't.. actually have any Atlantean biomancers in my circle of contacts. Not my close contacts, anyway. Which is a shame because I think we're going to need a whole team here.

I send filaments throughout the room, but I can't feel any concealed objects. Low level magic, but no more than I would expect from this amount of Sheeda biotechnology.

"Clear."

Mr. Yao comes through next, his continuous hum causing a slight fluctuation in my armour construct. A moment passes and he nods at Abednego, who motions for Anarawd to enter first and then follows him in.

Mr. Yao looks at Anarawd and then gestures to the control system with his right hand.

"Does this seem familiar to you?"

"This.. precise design is new to me. Perhaps unique. But I can at least perform its basic operations."

"Please attempt to access the records contained here."

Anarawd nods, then focuses on the strange keyboard and begins pressing keys with purpose. The keys are marked with straight or slanting lines, which I assume make up the written form of the Sheeda language. The symbols aren't getting translated by my ring, which… Presumably means that they have no direct equivalents.

A moment passes, then tiny witch-signs in shades of green and blue flicker in the illusory space for a few seconds before drawing together into the form of a Sheeda man.

Anarawd tenses and lifts his hands off the control panel.

"Melmoth."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
19:59 GMT -5

Blue-grey skin, pointed ears which are noticeably shorter than those of the three other Sheeda I've met. His face… No, his head, is taller and narrower than a normal human head, but only subtly so. You could meet a man of those dimensions on the street and only find it unsettling rather than monstrous or alien.

Naturally, he has a goatee.

"If you're seeing this message, then I have a visitor from Summer's End! Greetings, cousin. Welcome to my home away from home. Try not to trouble the locals too much; they can be ever so useful when they put their minds to it. And their backs, and their cunnies. You get used to the sunlight eventually; enjoy it! You'll not see its like again, and the burns are only temporary."

The illusion raises its right hand to its right cheek and touches it before lowering its arm again.

"If I'm still in residence, then make yourself known to me. I will welcome you warmly, and explain the purpose of the operation I've set up here. It will be pleasant to converse with an educated soul after so long amongst these… People. And as you can tell, I am rather partial to the sound of my own voice."

"Can you access the records?"

Anarawd tried pressing a few buttons. "It's locked while this plays."

"I can tell you of the true history of our people, which I'm certain that my dear wife has done her level best to conceal. I can tell you of the glories of the First Harrowing, the people we killed and the magics we stole. I can offer much in return for your service, and… As of now, my dear wife will consider your loyalty suspect and order you killed should she see you again."

Mr. Yao nods. "If you are able to agree, do so."

Anarawd glances at him, clearly concerned. "I would not dare betray the Queen. And he would know that."

"But do you think he'd enjoy watching you try to lie about it?"

"He may. But amongst Sheeda, that sort of torture is unusual. We-"

I nod resignedly. "Save it for humans."

"-save it for Peoples of Spring, like yourselves."

"And I see that you've brought humans with you. How very open-minded!"

Melmoth may not look all that inhuman but his constant toothy smile is a little disturbing.

"Two local men and-. Is that a Lantern?"

Are Lanterns a big enough deal that he'd program this to recognise one? From the fact that the two I killed yesterday recognised me and the fact that I think the Green Lantern Corps was active in this region of space during at least one previous Harrowing it's certainly possible-.

He's looking at me. That could be a programmed response, but-.

"Yes, yes, this isn't a recording. Imagine how surprised I was to be notified that someone had opened up my old hidey-hole."

The illusion… Makes eye contact with each of us in turn.

"I assume this means that her majesty Queen Gloriana Tenebrae is even now on her way at the head of a Harrowing fleet. Thank you for letting me know, I'll carry on with my own plan in response. But what to do about you?"

Ring, trace the communication channel.

Mr. Yao takes a step forward. "We are willing to cooperate to defeat the Harrowing fleet. Once the Queen is dead, you could resume your place as king."

Working.

"But I want to Harrow you too! The only philosophical difference between myself and ole' Glory-bra is that while she believes that she should rule the Sheeda, I believe that I should! We can't reconcile, but, well… Your civilisation is dead and damned either way."

"We have access to other worlds. We could rehome your people on another planet, where you could rebuild your civilisation."

"I'm sure that you could and I'm sure that you would. But my dear optimist, you need to understand that I really like hurting people. I absolutely love having them under my power, and I won't give that up for something as trivial as good sense. We have time travel; did you really think that if we wanted to we couldn't arrive during a period where there were starships on Earth and simply steal one? We don't Harrow you because we need to in order to sustain ourselves. We Harrow you because it lets us sustain ourselves while still being ourselves; casually cruel and vicious and revelling in our superiority. And, frankly, your utter destruction is well worth that."

"There is no room for negotiation?"

"Not.. really. I mean to say, if you wanted to arrange yourselves into patterns and then kill yourselves we'd probably let you, and if by some miracle you actually won then I imagine that the last few survivors would throw themselves upon your mercy… Perhaps. But on the core issue, I'm afraid that you are shit out of luck."

Unable to trace.

I connect a filament to Mr. Yao and send a message through it.

"Do you want me to try assimilating the console?"

He gives his head a small shake.

"Why did you found this colony?"

"If I had to live in exile, it may as well be a comfortable one. Have you ever tried taking a shit in a garderobe? Barbaric."

"That is.. all?" Abednego's hands are balled into fists. "You stole our forebears away from their homes-."

"Oh, you didn't think you were actually important, did you?" He pantomimes astonishment. "You did? Well, let me disillusion you: you're not. You're the result of me not realising that I'm biologically similar enough to humans that I can breed them."

He smiles. "Mea culpa."

"That's really it? I'm a little disappointed."

"They can't all be sinister plots. Though my actual breeding project is doing quite well. And since Glory-tits is on the move again… I suppose that it's time to ring the dinner bell."

He actually reaches out of shot and picks up a gong and mallet.

"Dinner time, children! Dinner time!"

I hear a fizz coming from the lumps on the wall the room and-.

"Attack from below! Everyone-"

I stick flight auras around Mr Yao, Peter, Abednego and Anarawd and pull them up-

"-off the-"

-as the creatures below us cease their regurgitations and bolt for the surface!

"-floor!"

The floor buckles and the frantic burrowing displaces tonnes of soil in an instant, silicoid claw-faced worms bursting through, magically-enhanced corrosives bubbling from their maws!

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
20:02 GMT -5

Three worms more coming door-. Door closed worth preserving structure no.

Acid midair construct barrier destroyed physical barrier melts partial neutralisation-.

Mr. Yao sings and the acid loses all momentum and falls back to the ground. The worms aren't bothered by it but the material covering the floor begins bubbling.

"Back, beasts!"

Abednego raises new witch-signs, each the size of kite shields. He gestures at the closest worm, which responds by lunging out of the ground and chomping at him! I yank him back, the sign attached to his left hand passing through the worm's maw with no noticeable effect.

"Ha! What fun."

Melmoth has a cup of tea and is sitting watching us, the-. The console appears to be immune to the acid.

Leonid blasts the door, which distorts slightly but then holds fast. His next shot hits one of the walls to even less effect.

The worm that failed to grapple Abednego burrows back underground as two others-.

The room tilts measurably. We're being undermined.

Strands of orange light connect my right hand to the console, causing it to briefly glow-.

Melmoth looks mildly disappointed as the console decays and his illusion projection fades away.

The new worms spray acid upwards Mr. Yao sings acid keeps coming! He twists aside, acid burning through his robe but missing his body. His song changes and the temperature of the room drops, frost forming on the worms and walls.

The worms appear unaffected. The two new arrivals lunge for Peter, forcing me to pull him towards the top of the room to dodge their mandibles. The two original worms spray acid in a wide arc, splattering Leonid's construct armour-

Hunger.

-which holds, which I'm pleased about. I form a construct railgun with the same rune work, load crumblers, point it at the door and fire. The hit causes a hole about forty centimetres across, which Peter might be able to squeeze through but is far too narrow for the rest of us. I reload and fire again as Leonid literally chances his arm by punching a lunging worm. It gets slammed back into the now-gelatinous floor with a quiet splat, Leonid jerking his fist back as the construct gauntlet gives up the ghost.

Vitriol.

Vitriol containment procedure requires countermagic or feeding it base until it's neutralised. There isn't an easy way to deal with it. With the worms being a constant source that won't work. Killing the worms might, but escaping is a priority. I've got a range advantage while their spit-pressure appears to limit them to shots of about three metres.

Second railgun shot fires, and-. The door is somewhat abraded, but it's still very much whole. Worse, the door appears to be regenerating the damage of the original shot by shifting material from the rest of it.

Alright, be clever, then. I fire strands at it with the aim of assimilating-. They're turned aside by a magic effect. Fine, assimilate-.

Buh-?

Leonid shoves me aside as acid sprays past where I was, droplets splashing on my construct armour anyway. I twist in the air, letting them spray off and shoving an x-ionised sword at the worm's neck as it lunges for me! The blade goes through its grey epidermis, shearing its three-pronged head from its neck, acid dribbling from the wound. The blade's a write-off so I drop it, and-.

The worm-corpse explodes! Fragments of its armour and blobs of highly acidic floor gunge spray outwards in all directions!

I try to interpose barriers and Mr. Yao howls a wave of kinetic energy, but all of us are hit! Anarawd's face is a rictus of pain as his right leg gets coated, the glutinous blob dripping down having eaten down to the charred bone! Peter frantically tries to wipe what he can off with the tattered remains of his travel cape before it can eat through his armour, but I can see the point where it gets through on the left side of his stomach.

"YAAAAAGHHH!"

Leonid copies my action in shaking the stuff off his construct armour and uses precise energy blasts to knock the worms' heads away from us. Mr. Yao shouts the.. same note he used when Klarion mind controlled him, break-breaking the universe around the door and carving a hole out of the surrounding walls. Abednego flies through immediately before turning small witch-signs on himself. His clothing appears to have protective spells bound into it, but the acid has eaten its way through and has badly burned the flesh beneath.

Leonid grabs Peter while I grab Anarawd and we both head for the door while Mr. Yao turns his doom song on the console room. What's left of the console evaporates, along with the floor and the visible parts of the worms. I-.

Mr. Yao doubles over in the air and coughs, small flecks of blood-.

I yank him out and put up a hungry construct wall between us and the console room.

"Physician?"

I don't say anything stupid like 'can you heal yourself?', because he'll tell me if-.

"Purple…"

I draw my purple healing ray and-

On the other side of the barrier I see a new worm breach the surface and launch a spray of acid. The construct is thicker than our armour and can take it for now, but that's a temporary thing and I need to do something nice for Wallace when we get back.

-shoot Mr. Yao in the mouth. Sonic scans…

"More worms coming. We need to go."

"Yes." Mr. Yao straightens with a nod, and I offer Peter the purple ray. He takes it, his breath unsteady from the shock. "Starfire, lead the way. Lantern, rearguard."

I nod as Leonid takes-

The building shudders and the walls tilt.

-off down the corridor towards the stairs.

"The acid's sinking the building."

I float backwards, holding Anarawd in a construct while the worms alternate between spraying acid and ramming my construct barrier. It looks like their innate magic isn't restricted to their acid, because those impacts shouldn't be doing that much damage.

Abednego helps Peter get moving, and a low hum from Mr. Yao tells me that he's listening to the vibrations of our surroundings. Pull back pull back-.

I transition myself and Anarawd back as a worm explodes in from the left wall, squirting acid in all directions! The others take immediate advantage of my barrier vanishing and surge forward, cracking the construct-.

I drop the construct, lash out with x-ionised blades, then create a new-.

The blast hisses through the air! No sludge this time, but super hard fragments wreathed in acid annihilate my barrier construct and eat into my armour construct and-.

Oh. No, that's gone through my regular armour as well.

I take advantage of the momentary respite as more worms pull themselves up to remove melting lumps of my own flesh from inside my armour, disintegrate what the acid hasn't and then heal myself. Then I create a new barrier and continue to pull back.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

s this the your inner voice of reason, reaching out to you from whatever inner pit of stupidity you've buried it into, trying to tell you to actually grow as a person, but you're trying to use its advice to insult me?

My jumped up elemental I think you have some serious issues.

This might actually be in your favor, since if you really have some kind of disorder people might actually pity you.

On the other hand you might not have a disorder and are just an asshole, in which case, Fuck You, you little pathetic piece of shit.

Click to shrink...

This is well beyond the bounds of the kind of conduct we allow here on QQ. If you can't talk to other people in a thread nicely then I will very nicely make you leave.

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
20:03 GMT -5

"The doorway is blocked."

I grimace faintly as I use very strong railgun shots to knock the worms back, keeping them off my barrier as we near the exit. When we headed down I could scan reasonably freely, but now it looks like Melmoth's flipped all of the switches. I can't even scan the next room with a default scan, and alternate sensors aren't returning completely reliable results.

"By a door or by the earth?"

"Neither? It looks like… Lichen? Dark grey?"

I feel through the construct holding him as Anarawd twitches in shock.

"If you know something-?"

"I have underestimated the Dark King."

"Not a capital offence. Care to narrow it down?"

"Orange Lantern!" I switch my attention from our Sheeda prisoner to Mr. Yao. "I should be able to sing open a hole, but for us to clear the distance-."

"I'll shield us and move us."

I move closer to the exit, the six of us clustering together. Something else for the slate: an alchemically-enhanced base to go with the alchemically-enhanced acid. Sure, in a situation like this it would cause a colossal explosion, but it would probably be a mostly-conventional explosion and I'm good at surviving those.

There's no countdown. Mr. Yao opens his mouth and I've already wrapped everyone in a rune-inlayed construct barrier, dropping the barrier to our rear. The worms have lost a degree of their focus and aren't quite as quick to go after us as they were when they first emerged, but-.

Mr. Yao pronounces the-. Yeah, great, now my ears are bleeding. The grey organic stuff covering the entrance is torn apart, the soil behind it blasted aside… For a moment.

I seal the construct and then shoot us forward, spinning construct drill pushing the subsiding soil aside and pulling us through for a few seconds until we're back out over the desolate plain.

I stop, turn, and turn the construct drill into a construct platform.

What little is still visible of the tower is rapidly sinking into a highly acidic bog, though that might be due to the empty chambers below the tower falling in on themselves. The worms are… Breaching the surface in a dozen or so places, though they aren't trying to attack us. I don't see any eyes, so perhaps they can't see us?

The grey lichen-like material is visible in patches all across the wasteland, and… I can see it slowly growing. It doesn't appear to be affected by the worms' acid. Our mounts are gone. The worms might have taken them, or they might have fled. There aren't any flying Sheeda creatures that I can see-.

I add a dome shield around the platform we're standing on.

"Anarawd, I would appreciate it if you would expand upon your answer."

"It-."

"Orange Lantern." Mr. Yao fixes me with a steady glare. "His leg."

"Right." I move Anarawd into a standing position and attach filaments to the acid-burned parts. "You might experience a few moments of discomfort."

Unlike with the creatures below, when he's not wearing armour Anarawd is perfectly simple to scan. Reconstituting his leg using my own revulsion at physical imperfection and desire to hear what he has to say is a simple matter.

When I'm done he stares at his new lower leg in nearly as much discomfort as he showed when he lost it.

"How long does it last?"

"I don't know. How long do Low Born Sheeda usually last?"

"The discomfort. It feels physically normal, but it does not share my soul."

"I'm afraid that I can't really help you there. If you come back with us to Earth, I can ask a biomancy specialist to take a look. Now about that lichen-stuff."

"The Earth of the Land of Summer's End is not like your Earth. The light of the vampire sun weakens and kills; it does not nurture and strengthen as your sun does, nor the suns of this world."

"Yes?"

"But the rest of the world is altered as well. Our creatures may borrow some parts of their form from the creatures of your era, but they are altered; larger, fiercer, enhanced by magic and possessing something of Sheeda biology."

"So.. I've already noted."

"Our buildings are the same. Our great vessels as well. Each is in part alive; a creature as those Core Worms are or as the Spider Mounts are. Our buildings are the same, and the Earth itself, that is enveloped by it the… Lichen? That is what you call it?"

"Until I can analyse it properly, yes."

"Our entire world is alive in some form or another. But our world is sustained by the Harrowing."

While… Melmoth's… "You think he's transforming this world?"

"I am not High Born. I do not understand the magics which allow us to raid the past. But if Melmoth feared that no more Harrowings were possible, or if he intended to cause this one to fail to spite the Queen-."

"We'd remember you, and never let ourselves become you. You'd need somewhere to come from, like a planet full of people with Sheeda DNA who used Sheeda-style magic."

"The pathways to future and past bring us from our world to yours. I always assumed that they were the same world; that we were your future. But if Dark Melmoth sought to secure us a new past… This…"

I take another look at the grey-coated worm-ridden landscape.

"This is how it would start."

"You do not understand. Everything we know about ourselves-."

"No, I just don't care. Will the people who live here be able to survive if the world is Sheeda-formed?"

"I-. Yes, certainly. Not so easily as we, but the beasts are controllable and for the most part work at their intended function without distraction."

Abednego nods. "'T'would mean the end of Columbia."

Peter hands me the purple ray back. "We must warn the town. Mayhap we can stay ahead of the beasts."

"How does that lichen interact with other plants?"

"It grows best on rock, but it will throttle any living thing not born of the Sheeda, given time."

"Does it have weaknesses? Some way to stop it? To kill it?"

"There are creatures which feed upon it, but never to the point of eradicating it."

"Orange Lantern." I look at Mr. Yao. "Get in contact with Lantern Stewart. I need to consult with Wonder Woman."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th May
20:03 GMT -5

Much as this sucks, as planetary invasions go…

Sivana grins menacingly as he flips the switch on his hex-generator, and the sky ripples as the harvest-ship that has been eating its way through what's left of Detroit suddenly loses its wards and becomes visible. It had been a disturbing sight: factories and homes just vanishing without rhyme or reason, and unlike with the raiding bands it isn't just a matter of hunkering down until the invisibility spells lose power. I don't know what they can do Sheeda-side, but on a magically active planet like modern Earth the ships can keep it up indefinitely. Not just invisible to the electromagnetic spectrum but almost unthinkable.

The arcane engineers in the Queen's employ will realise what's happening at once, and they'll shout warnings. I can already see insect-riders rising from the stable-bays-.

"It would be so easy…"

Sivana's hands are twitching over the console which controls his other tools-.

I shake my head. "Doctor, the Queen isn't even here. I didn't like letting them destroy our shipyard in Kenya, but I did it because I knew it was necessary. If you can't control yourself-."

"I know. But to have-" A light comes on. "-them…" He recovers his smile. "There. They're calling for aid."

Jon and Sam agreed to pulling back US military assets once we discovered where the harvest ship was. They may not be real warships, but their beam weapons would shred pretty much anything that could be sent against it. The only avenue of attack is to take advantage of the fact that it has relatively low power reserves, and… You'd have to maintain a constant attack for days and take tremendous casualties to make that matter. China decided to ignore my advice and try that after their nuclear strike failed, and… It will work. After about a week and the deaths of half a million soldiers.

No. We need the Queen to deploy Castle Revolving somewhere we can get at it. And given how they really don't want to lose the harvesters…

BOOM! Kill.

Two blaster-equipped drone squadrons fly out of the boom tubes and fly at the Sheeda air cavalry. I learned the painful way that any attack that doesn't kill them lets them adapt their armour spells to nullify it, which forced me to bench my entire purple death ray force. Ah, yes, the Sheeda have spotted them-.

"They're calling again. Do it now!"

My eyes flick his way for a moment. "I'm choosing to interpret that as a request."

I raise my right arm, fusion cannon construct manifesting as I point it at the harvest ship. Which thanks to Circe hasn't spotted us yet, though that will soon change. This time the gun manifests differently, the ongoing terror of everyone left in the city and the fear of a world under assault meaning that I can afford to put a little more pressure on things.

Let's see. Don't want to knock the ship out completely…

There. Here I Stand.

I aim at a point just above and to the left of the primary harvesting array. And I fire, a blinding line connecting me to my target and punching through the far side. Face Me!

I step up onto the bonnet of an abandoned car and stride down the roofs of empty vehicles, Circe's ward evaporating around m-.

One of the harvest ship's underslung beam weapons orientates on me and fires, an entropic ray about a metre across hitting me on the upper right side of my chest. The crashed vehicles behind me decay in moments but I'm a New God. I am fuelled by the Source. And I did just shoot out about two thirds of the power relays to the lower platform. That probably helps.

I target the gun and fire again as I continue my advance, neatly shearing off the gun that shot me.

"Face me, Queen of the Sheeda!" WHERE IS YOUR NAME, THAT IS WRITTEN IN THE STARS?!

For a New God, that's throwing down the gauntlet. A demand that they confront the one shouting it, and a gamble from the one shouting it. Because if they demonstrate their nature and successfully slight yours, you get a very long term disadvantage using New God technology and God-powers against them. Of course, by making such a bold statement you get a boost and if you can make your claim of superiority stick then you keep it. To anyone else it's pretty much just an insult: strongly implying that since they're not one of us that they are ultimately unable to effect a change of any significance.

But it's still God-speech. A challenge shouted on a thaumically active planet. So when the Queen gets a request for help… If we're right, then she'll think of this as a personal insult and turn up to put me in my place. If not? Well, then I get a free harvest ship.

With the challenge issued and unanswered, my armour's ability to resist attacks by anyone working for the Queen is magnified… To a point. An unanswered attack will still weaken it, but only if the attack actually does something and is entirely unanswered. I don't have to spend the rest of eternity chasing down one guy who got a lucky hit in. But as the gunners on the back of the Sheeda flies try to find time to focus on the ground targets that they're designed for while the drivers duck and dive to try and avoid the blaster shots… They must recognise them by now. A couple who-. Ah, they're tanking shots, they've already acquired immunity. I could probably power through it using-

Red beams from their entropic rays hit my chest to very little effect.

-my God powers, but that would imply that they were significant enough to warrant it.

I raise both forearms in their direction, generate pulse plasma guns on both forearms and open fire. I do add a little of my own power to the shots to make my point, because there's nothing quite like a coup de grâce that misses to make a person look foolish.

What emerges from the guns are barely visible flickers of burning white, each existing only for moment before losing their heat to the surrounding environment. But in that moment they punch through Sheeda fly wings and harnesses, causing mutant insects and riders to tumble through the air and crash uncontrollably into the ravaged city.

Looks like Sheeda armour isn't very good at absorbing kinetic shocks. Worth remembering. I drop the construct on my left forearm and aim the one on the right at the fliers trying and failing to duel with the far more agile drones-.

And there's the castle. There's no transition; it doesn't shimmer or generate any kind of portal I can see, even with my goggles. One moment local airspace contains drones, insect riders and a harvest ship and the next there's a giant… 'Lump of radioactive coral' would be my best stab at describing it.

I don't know exactly what the glowing green bits do but it's somewhat irrelevant. By answering my challenge, Queen Gloriana Tenebrae has created a link between us. I might be able to exploit that unaided, but-

I twist the knob on Circe's amulet, which starts sparking.

-why have friends if you're not going to exploit them?

"Hush tube." Stand before me.

"Ping."

"Sivana-."

"Lex is already en-route."

"Good show. See you shortly."

Because while I can probably kill the Queen, stopping the ship is a dicier prospect. But what the heck? I dismiss my gun construct, fold my arms behind my back and walk through the hush tube in an utterly unhurried manner.

And I appear in front of the Queen's throne, Sheeda I assume to be the command crew at stations around the room and what must either be her bodyguards or her handmaidens crouched at her calves.

…

The bondage theme is strong in this one.

"Queen Gloriana Tenebrae?"

Guns and blades are drawn and I affect an air of being utterly unimpressed.

"I will now permit you to surrender."