#took a lot of pieces from Sanna's last entry

[memoirsofratasum]

Protector Tarnn: The Eye of the North

So many people have been making their way north chasing Bangar that it’s actually kind of amazing that I never made it that far into the Shiverpeaks. My duties had taken me back to the warmer jungles of Tarir. Years ago I had done some preliminary work on copying and translating the Exalted’s tablets and now some magisters wanted to consult with me on transcribing a new set of tablets that had been found in a corridor recently cleared of debris. Not the most exciting work, but you don’t want to snub any of your higher ups when you’re looking for advancement.

Sure the job had its own share of adventures, the jungle hasn’t changed much, but it was the assignment I got after that was noteworthy.

The location of the Eye of the North was never exactly a secret. The old ruin is famous among most of the races, a place of history for all of Tyria. But in spite of that importance, the tower has been mostly left alone, even by the Priory. It’s location in the mountains was too difficult to keep excavation teams supplied. The relatively recent invention of airships alleviated that issue, but with the Elder Dragons we had better places we needed to fly too.

So imagine my surprise when I was called into Steward Gixx’s office and asked if I knew anything about the Eye of the North. As much as anyone does, the occupation by the Ebon Vanguard, the scrying pool, the battle with Primordus’ lieutenant, and that it’s been mostly left alone for 250 years. And that’s when Gixx got this gleam in his eye and I knew I was going to be trekking north after all.

I wasn’t going alone though. Gixx had a guest for me to meet. A familiar stick-in-the-mud asura, Inscriber Nivv. I haven’t seen him since Istan. I had already figured by his presence that this must involve waypoints, which Gixx confirmed before I could open my mouth. The short of it is that the Arcane Council was contacted by an anonymous client who commissioned for a waypoint and asura gate activation in the Eye of the North. Nivv, having been impressed with my bodyguard work in the past, had requested me by name. The last time this happened I was certain that he had slipped my commanding magister a sack of gold for my services, Gixx has to be getting something out of this too. He’s grinning too much like a loon for it to just be mystic coins under the table. Probably has at least one member of the Arcane Council owing him a favor. Doubt I’ll see the gains when that gets fulfilled.

Nivv on his part seemed completely unsuspicious on how this deal manifested. He was eager to work with me again. This little expedition was going to be bigger than the Istan one as it included gate technicians and enough equipment to build a new gate from scratch if it came to that. The danger assessment had it’s holes, but there didn’t seem to be any svanir or renegade charr in the region, not even a nearby kodan sanctuary. Just wild animals and the elements. The mysterious client didn’t say why they wanted the Eye hooked up to the modern teleport systems all of a sudden, though it’s easy to imagine someone rich wanting to aid in the war effort as it would make for a good base and staging ground. The only thing I can guess about their identity is that they aren’t Pact, this is well outside the usual protocols.

Regardless, we were in the air within a couple days. The Arcane Council had chartered us an airship out of LA crewed by members of the lionguard, guess Gixx was willing to lend out me but not one of the Priory transports. Not as swift and battle ready as the Pact ships, it was at least a more comfortable ride in comparison. The civilians disagreed but I was just glad to not have to sleep next to the roar of the engine.

We were scheduled to be in the air 3 days but the pilot and navigator were worried about the adverse weather in the Shiverpeaks. Since Grothmar things had apparently gotten worse and not for the first time I wondered how Sanna was holding up. I wouldn’t expect an elementalist of her talents to be overwhelmed by any sort of weather, but there have been rumors trickling down from Bjora Marches of worse things. Apparently the wind whispered to you and a curse from hunger could turn you inside out. I’m not sure what to believe and the Pact brass was not willing to discuss it. Some said that they don’t want to scare off assignees before they get there, but other quieter whispers was that no one could be certain if any charr members were in league with Ruinbringer and could leak information. This had happened with the sylvari once already, and now our charr brethren? That sort of distrust would only prove Ruinbringer right. But it’s not my call to make. The last official announcement was Soulkeeper’s fate, Alchemy keep her, when I was in the jungle. After that everything seemed to be on a need-to-know basis.

The first day in the air went by as normally as one could expect. The Sanctum Harbor soon gave way to the biting cold of Lornar’s Pass. Familiar landmarks passed underneath us but it was too cold to stay out on deck without a reason. Nivv showed me the crates in the cargo hold that held the waypoint and gate components. If it wasn’t for the asuran script stamped on the metal, you’d have guessed they were normal shipments of smithing or artificing components. Nivv wanted to impart the importance of the crates but he didn’t need to bother. Easy access to the Eye could guarantee the Pact and it’s allies were always better prepared than Ruinbringer, wars have been won with less. Nivv wanted me to check on the crates during our journey, the components were delicate and if the rough weather prediction was correct he didn’t want them to get jostled around too much.

The second day things started to feel a little...off. It had gotten colder, we were over Frostgorge Sound, and the krewe was huddling around a space heater grumbling to themselves. My wolf Valor though didn’t have the mind to join in, instead his ears were up and eye trained on one of the human lionguard crew member, an engineer whose name I didn’t know. The wind was whistling strongly through a seam somewhere and I realized the engineer wasn’t occupied with his work like I had assumed, but staring down at the cold asura with something akin to contempt in his eyes. That wasn’t going to fly. I got his attention just as the wind calmed down and he muttered something about being needed elsewhere and wandered off his with wrench.

I didn’t think much of it, some people are just jerks and its not worth wasting brainspace on them. I went to check on the crates to see if they had shifted overnight. At first glance they were just as we had left them the day before, but just as I was about to leave I noticed that parts of the metal looked deformed. Not by a lot, just some shallow dents on the top seam, as if hit by a blunt instrument. Such a thing isn’t uncommon as old crates gain some wear after being used over and over again. But I could have sworn that the crates were new. Maybe I just misremembered. It’s not worth bring up to Nivv.

This airship must be full of holes, the wind sounded like it’s in my ears.

I returned to the inner decks and found some of the krewe in an argument. Cram a bunch of self-proclaimed geniuses in one place with no easy way out and it’s bound to happen. I was going to leave them to it, I’m not here to protect their egos from themselves, but Valor was standing stiff, staring at them. That moment of hesitation gave me enough time to see one of the krewe members lash out and a trail of red appear on her opponent’s cheek.

I immediately blinked into the middle of it, grabbing her wrist before she could even finish the swiping motion, a shard of bloody glass clenched in her hand. What was her name again? Calli? Well, whoever she was blinked as if she was just waking up from a dream which turned into a growing horror as she realized what she just did. The glass shard fell from her hand, no idea where she could have gotten it from, as she started crying, claiming that she didn’t mean to do it, that a voice in her head told her too. I didn’t care about any of her stammering excuses.  Assaulting a krewe member, or anyone on your side for that matter, will not be tolerated on my watch. I had the lionguard escort her to the brig, Nivv could sort his people out himself. 

The wind started to die down.

Her victim seemed more shocked than hurt, the scratch on his cheek was shallow and I was able to use a little guardian magic to close the wound. Strangely, he couldn’t recall what the argument was about. It wasn’t over anything normal, like a theory or paper. I’m sure getting attacked by a colleague pushed it right of it his mind.

Things seemed to quiet down after that. Nivv was beside himself over Calli’s behavior. It didn’t bode well for when they got to work at the Eye. A rebellious krewe member I could handle though, so I found myself drifting off as I checked my armor while he continued to babble on about how to reassigned the work if Calli was out and then ley line nodes and molecular relays and on and on.

The wind was picking up again and his voice blended with it. Whatever he was talking about didn’t matter. I probably shouldn’t even be here playing progenysitter to a bunch of spoiled technicians anyway. Didn’t I leave Rata Sum specifically to not do this sort of work anymore? 

A low growl from Valor jerked me back to reality. I looked up from my polishing to see that Valor had placed himself between me and Nivv, his ears and hackles both up and his teeth half-barred. A warning.

Nivv looked startled and confused, as if he didn’t realize where he was, his scepter clattered to the floor. He didn’t have an answer when I starred him down and asked what was wrong. He seemed nervous and more than a little scared. As he should be. I don’t want to think one of Sanna’s old acquaintances and a person who I’ve worked with before would willing to stab me in the back, but if he was he’d have to be a lot more prepared than this. I said as much when I pressed his scepter back into his hands.

Nivv didn’t stick around, leaving me and Valor alone. My wolf nudged at me and licked my face, his tension eased.

The wind quieted and I felt like I could think again. 

What the hell was going on? I couldn’t even remember what I was just thinking about. Were we honestly going stir crazy after only a day in an enclosed space? That didn’t seem right.

Every asura on the ship tried to avoid each other for the rest of the day, casting distrusting eyes on their krewemates and myself. The lionguard seemed on edge as well. The only person who seemed to have any sense of control was the airship captain, a norn with a hammer on his back and an adherent of wolf if the tattoos are anything to go by. He stopped me in the hall after dinner under the pretense of wanting my input on flying over Bitterfrost Frontier as I had been there before. But I could tell that what he really wanted was to know more about Valor. Guardians aren’t known for their animal companions after all. The captain nodded in understanding when I told him that Valor had once been a shrine wolf, that the shaman had tasked me with healing his wounds after rescuing her wolves from the Svanir, and that he’s been with me ever since as support for my mental wellbeing rather than as a ranger companion. The captain nodded as he listened and scratched Valor behind the ears. Said that Wolf must see me in a good light to allow me one of his wolves. Yeah I dunno about that. 

The captain then asked if I had noticed anything unusual going in with the asura krewe. He seemed to have noticed that some of his lionguard acting suspicious and on edge, or being found in the cargo hold when they had duties elsewhere, or hesitating at the controls before following his orders. That didn’t sound good. Sounds like both crew and krewe are acting out when they should be more professional than this. It was worrying but the captain said that we should reach the Eye by the end of the day tomorrow and it would be easier to sort this all out once on solid ground. He bid me goodnight and that Wolf watch over me.

I think that was the longest span of time throughout the entire day where the wind wasn’t howling in my head.

The next morning we were flying over territory unfamiliar to my eyes. We had to be getting close to the Eye. Tensions hadn’t eased but nothing had exploded. Nivv wrung his hands and avoided my gaze when I asked if his krewe would be able to at least do the work when we touched down. The last thing I wanted was to essentially have come all this way for nothing. I know Gixx wanted Priory footprints in the snow, but fat lot of good that does him if the promised transportation isn’t there.

I needed to calm down, I was just adding to the tension and unease. Someone was going to snap at this rate and I couldn’t let it be me.

By midday I decided to check on the cargo hold again. The crates definitely didn’t have those dents yesterday. They weren’t the small indents that could be waved away by some rough handling. They were caved in and clumsily strewn across the floor, one spreading crystalline dust like blood out of a newly formed crack. The turbulence hadn’t been that violent. It was clearly sabotage. 

I sprinted from the hold, calling for Nivv when the airship suddenly listed sharply to the side, causing me to lose my footing. The airship swung wildly again and I slammed into a wall that was acting more as a floor. 

The wind was deafening.

Nivv’s crates could wait. I needed to make it to the bridge.

Alarms were blaring and the windows were almost a solid white from a blizzard. But that wasn’t the part that shocked me when I reached the bridge.

The human engineer from the day before was at the controls, spinning wheels and throwing switches seemingly at random. But the lionguard pilot and navigator, one with blood on his temple, were desperately trying to wrestle him away. The airship was still spinning wildly and it felt like we were rapidly losing altitude. 

And the captain just watched.

I didn’t have the time to think my actions through, I needed that time to act instead.

I rushed forwarded and wove my way in-between the struggling lionguards and threw a fist at the engineer’s solar plexus. He doubled over immediately, air knocked knocked out of him, and I was able to drag him away and allow the pilot and navigator to reassert control. 

The captain still showed no reaction.

The wind had risen to a roar.

The tension cracked when Nivv charged in, demanding to know what was going on. The blank expression on the captain’s face never changed, but his stance shifted. I moved at the same time. I slid in front of Nivv, my shield rippling into existence just in time for the captain’s hammer to ricochet harmlessly off the shiny surface. 

I had to think fast. The bridge of an airship was not the ideal place for a fight. Fire magic was out of the question and my sword could easily damage the controls. My staff might have been my best option, casting from range and drawing the captain away the bridge and the now terrified pilot and navigator.

The captain raised his hammer again but instead of falling, a mass of fur slammed into the captain, knocking him off his feet. Teeth sunk into his wrist, forcing him to drop the hammer and scream in pain, his first natural reaction out this entire encounter.

I dropped my shield and ran to my wolf. Valor had the captain at his mercy, holding him in place and tightening his jaw at any movement he didn’t like. This gave me some time to get some answers.

The captain though was worse off than Calli. He didn’t know what he was doing. A voice had been gnawing at his mind, telling him that the asuran krewe couldn’t be allowed to succeed in their mission. Why? He had no idea. He couldn’t even say who the voice in his head belonged too. But he thanked Wolf for bringing him to his senses before he did something he regretted. 

I didn’t think that was good enough. We where still hours from the eye and who knew how long before the waypoint and the gate were operational, if they could even be brought online after the pummeling their crate’s took. The captain maybe remorseful now, but there was still time for sabotage. In my opinion, he and the still dazed engineer should be thrown in the brig and LA radioed. That is if the pilot could make the landing without the captain’s instructions. 

I studying the subdued captain and mentally calculating the distance from LA for backup, when the wind fell silent and the snow stopped. Outside the windows, the sky was a glorious glow of oranges and pinks. It shouldn’t have been that late in the day yet. And unless the pilot still hadn’t gotten us on course, we shouldn’t be seeing the sunset through the bow windows. The sunset glistened and flew closer.

It wasn’t the sunset, it was Aurene!

The Prismatic Dragon circled the airship, a rainbow left in her wake. Her voice, somehow both within my head and out, gently instructed the airship to follow her to make a landing at the Eye.

The affect of the dragon was like taking a breath after being under water, everything felt calm and right. I placed my hand on Valor’s head and he released the captain from his jaws. The captain would still have to answer for his actions, but for right now I don’t think anyone will try anything while under Aurene’s shadow.

The Eye of the North was just like the stories, huge and imposing but most importantly safe. And being in a sheltered valley, the worse of the Shiverpeaks weather didn’t hit quite so hard. A few bears and wild wolves eyed us from the undergrowth, but a few demonstrations of my fire magic kept them there.

Aurene watched as we unloaded the airship into the main vestibule. As I had suspected, some of the components had been damaged. Crystalline filaments were shattered and the dust contaminated. Aurene offered to create any necessary crystal components the krewe may need and then she bidded us to her lair at the scrying pool, saying that she owed us an explanation.

As suspected by her presence here, Aurene was the anonymous client who had commissioned for the waypoint and reactivated asuran gate. She did not elaborate on how this was paid for. She then apologized to us. According to her, the voices and thoughts that had been in our heads was Jormag. Aurene had thought that with it’s mouthpiece Drakkar under threat, an airship could have slipped into the Shiverpeaks unnoticed. But she had underestimated Jormag and just how much of a threat a Tyrian foothold in the Eye would be to the Ice Dragon. The violence onboard the airship was solely Jormag’s responsibility. But now that we were under Aurene’s wings here at the Eye, we were outside of their influence. And if the campaign against Drakkar is successful, that influence would end permanently. 

However that campaign ended, Aurene still wanted the Eye up and running for Tyrian use. The krewe had a few days at most to complete their task. I have to patrol to perimeter, almost a vacation after that trip. The airship crew needed to take that time to assess for damages. And the captain...well he said he was going out into the forest to mediate on Wolf and not to worry about him. 

I hope Wolf keeps him, and all of us safe. And if not, I know Aurene will.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #asura #Tarnn #this is the Shadow in the Ice journal #but feels weird to call it that when it's not set in Bjora Marches #this issue went way off the rails from what I was expecting it to be #took a lot of pieces from Sanna's last entry #I even used Nivv again #if I had known it was going to take these turns sooner I might have tried to lean more on the horror element #regardless it was fun to explore the options and see Tarnn being a badass

[shatteredskies042]

Dangerous: Part I

“Petty Officer?” A blonde head of hair popped up at the voice. “Yeah?” She wiped the grease from her brow and stepped out from under her ship. She wiped her palms on a greasy rag as she approached the ensign, “what is it?” “Rear Admiral Pierce sends his regards, ma’am,” the ensign saluted. He withdrew a data chip from a pocket and offered it to the blonde. “This chip contains your orders.” “Direct from the Admiral himself?” Aliana Judge asked, slightly awed. “Did he give a timetable for these?” “As soon as possible, ma’am. Good luck,” he wished, before saluting and striding away. Aliana looked at the chip in her palm, wondering what.. or who, could be so important. She returned to her ship, finished the minor repair, then boarded her ship. Sitting in the docked craft, she punched a command to bring her personal vehicle: a Faulcon deLacy Viper Mark IV, optimized for the fighter role. Her first true ship, as the others she had were loaners, Federation property. She stopped by her cabin to change into her skintight dark green flight suit. She took her seat in the singular chair. She plugged in the data chip as she activated her systems and prepared for a long flight. As her reactor warmed, she examined the contents of the data chip. The first was a preface from Rear Admiral Pierce himself, uncommon in her typical mission orders: “Judge, this mission is not exactly your typical operation, but you’ve probably guessed that by now. The man we’re sending you after... he interdicted the pirate ambush on your father’s funeral ship when it passed through Epsilon Indi. Attached are the classified reports confirming this fact. He’s proven himself capable, and I want you to bring him in. Her breath hitched, remembering her father’s funeral. She remembered the report of the attack, remembered the two Eagle pilots credited as heroes for thwarting the assault on the medical transport carrying her father. Why had it been covered up? Pushing the emotions from her brain, she looked at the current location of her target, and locked it into her navigation computer. Regulus, an out of the way system without much to offer. Firmly in the Federations hands, interesting. “Daedalus Control, Pad Thirty-Four, requesting launch clearance,” she spoke into her helmet before she slipped it over her head. Adjusting the fit and making sure it connected with her suit, she sealed the environmental controls and watched the displays scroll and activate. “Pad Thirty-Four, deLacy Juliet Alpha, clear for launch. Mind the traffic, pair of cruise ships coming in,” the controller responded. “Copy Deadalus Control,” she replied, taking off and angling her Viper out. Exiting spaceports was painstaking, it took so much time due to speed restrictions. She kept her speed just under the requirement as she exited the circular spaceport in Martian orbit. Once clear, she increased power to get free of the mass lock of the Red Planet. Once clear, she engaged her Frame Shift Drive, and began her trek to the white star of Regulus. She opened the full file, and read the name of her target: Michael Voron. She skimmed the entry, what they knew of his past, and statistics gathered by analysts culled from transactions he had made. One piece of data in particular jumped out at her: An organization known as the Pilots Association kept data on every pilot in the galaxy. Their data was free to access, and would be displayed when a ship was scanned. The three main surveyed traits revolved around trading and economic skill, navigational ability, and combat prowess. The latter trait was surveyed from the lowest rank of Harmless to Dangerous. Fewer than one tenth of one percent of all pilots would ever earn the rank of Dangerous. Her target, Michael Voron, was rated a Dangerous combat pilot. The bar was decrepit. Most pilots bars were. Men and women who spent millions of credits on their ships to purchase and outfit them were often the stingiest and most frugal of drinkers. All their money went into their craft. They were a mixed bunch, but they mingled together well. The drink flowed, and as it had been for time immoral among gatherings of pilots, so did the lies and exaggerations. At one corner table sat a scout, a trader, a handful of Federation security pilots, and one other. “So, this Lance is coming up on the asteroid I’m parked behind, and I ping and scan him. He thinks it’s one of you guys, because I don’t say anything and I’m running silent. He’s sneaking up on Nguyen's ‘Conda, and I can tell he’s fangs out and about to engage. I throttle up and sit behind him, come out of silent and flash my own fangs. He takes a shot at Nguyen, and I light him up.” The speaker was a man, of average height and build, possessed of light gray eyes and short brown hair. He sat in a chair with a glass of amber liquid in front of him. He wore a gray leather jacket over a white shirt, as well as dark pants with a holstered pistol strapped to his hip. “Is that the guy you were off chasing when we were in that furball with that five man wing?” One of the Federal pilots asked. “He was the fifth man,” the pilot confirmed. He could easily be any sort of pilot in this room, with the cool confidence of a man who knew the score. “So, he takes a shot at Nguyen, and I start hitting him. Dude panics and tries to break off, but I’m right in his wake the whole time.” “I thought I saw a plasma shot flash by my cockpit,” another Fed pilot, Nguyen presumably, spoke up. “How the hell did your Cobra keep up with a Lance?” The pilot grinned, “I duplicated his every move. He boosted, I boosted, he tried to sidestep, I drift and sidestep behind him. The Fer-de-Lance is a great ship, but you have to pour some money into it and watch your power distribution. Manage it on the fly. He didn’t, so I was able to keep behind him and keep pinging him until his reactor detonated.” “See, I don’t believe that,” the trader spoke. “The Fer-de-Lance is a heavy fighter. It’s got a class five weapons hardpoint for god’s sake,” he swirled the ice in his drink. “It would have gutted your Cobra in seconds.” “It would have,” the Cobra pilot agreed. “But who’s here telling the story?” he grinned. “It is a tall tale, Mister Voron,” a female voice rang out. g out. A short haired blonde approached them, a red half-jacket made of synthetic leather and what looked like a uniform under it. She leaned down and set her palms against the table, watching the bounty hunter. “I too, would think so, but I happened to check at the authority office before coming here.” Michael Voron narrowed his eyes, setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “And you are?” “The woman who just bought everybody at this table a drink, it’s up at the bar,” she winked at the others. A means to get Voron alone, it seemed. As the chairs cleared out, the woman sat across from the bounty hunter, looking him in the eyes silently. “You’ve got my attention,” he told her, taking a sip. “Of course I do,” she said confidently, bordering on cockiness. “You’re Federation,” Michael pointed out, seeing the insignia peeking out from under the corner of her jacket. “A petty officer, a pretty new one at that, seeing how shiny the insignia is,” he observed, watching her. “Who are you?” “My name is Aliana Judge, and I want to offer you a job,” she said. Violet eyes interrogated gray, as outlined what she had come here to do: “The Federation is putting together a special squadron, fully comprised of Dangerous level pilots.” “Not interested,” he said flatly. A crack appeared in the woman’s confidence. “You can have everything you want. Top of the line upgrades, any ship you want, the riches of the Federation at your-” “I have everything I want,” he promised, glaring at the woman. “I don’t want any part of your war.” Maintaining an icy confidence, Judge glared at him: “then if you did, why did you protect my father’s convoy?” “What convoy?” he asked curiously. A soft bang came as she pound her fist on the table, “don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about.” “Petty Officer Judge,” Voron said slowly, “you’re causing a scene. You offered me a job, and I declined. I’m happy with my lot in life. Bounty hunting is always good, and I’ll take courier and even strike contracts on occasion. I’m free to choose my own targets and jobs and go where I please.” “You’re going to regret this,” she said spitefully. Aliana pushed from the table, and quickly made her escape from the bar. ----- Four Months Later... “Jade Angel breaking off, nearly Winchester,” Judge called over her communications link to her fellow Federal pilots. She’d been in an active conflict zone in Sanna for the last half hour, and nearly shot her kinetic weapons empty. She funneled her power into her Viper’s engines, accelerating away from the battlefield to jump into supercruise. Once she made the jump, she relaxed, letting out a deep breath. She was safe, for the next hour at least. That was until the direct message scrolled through the communications window. [DIRECT] CMDR Voron: Judge, we need to talk. Ali’s left hand danced over the keyboard as she checked local contacts. She responded with a standard Federation response: THIS IS A FEDERATION CRAFT. CLEAR OFF OR YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON. [DIRECT] CMDR Voron: Canned responses won’t faze me. Then her HUD flashed, her drive and engines decreased in pitch. She had returned to normal space, and for this second, she was dead in space. She looked through her canopy as she tried to reboot her systems. Michael Voron’s ship sat in front of her, weapons trained on her.