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[[File:LoreQuintessence.png|300px| | [[File:LoreQuintessence.png|300px|thumb]] | ||
'''Quintessence''' is a [[Lore]] book introduced in ''[[Season of the Risen]]''. Entries are acquired by progressing the Active Listener seasonal [[Triumphs|Triumph]]. | '''Quintessence''' is a [[Lore]] book introduced in ''[[Season of the Risen]]''. Entries are acquired by progressing the Active Listener seasonal [[Triumphs|Triumph]]. It details the perspective of various characters while [[The Coalition]] forces work together to foil the [[Lucent Brood]]'s plans for the stolen [[Light]]. | ||
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==I - Pith== | ==I - Pith== | ||
[[Caiatl]]'s feet stubbornly refused to touch the floor. | [[Empress Caiatl|Caiatl]]'s feet stubbornly refused to touch the floor. | ||
She—at least, the loose approximation of her body—floated inelegantly in the [[Psion]]'s Mindscape. She reached out for purchase as a bit of geometry drifted by, but her hands were as intangible as smoke. | She—at least, the loose approximation of her body—floated inelegantly in the [[Psion]]'s Mindscape. She reached out for purchase as a bit of geometry drifted by, but her hands were as intangible as smoke. | ||
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"Then try harder," she said, not without affection. | "Then try harder," she said, not without affection. | ||
The floor of the Mindscape buckled and then rose to meet her. There was no sensation as she stood upright. She took a step. The space swirled around her; dense, gaseous, like walking inside a headache. | The floor of the [[Mindscape]] buckled and then rose to meet her. There was no sensation as she stood upright. She took a step. The space swirled around her; dense, gaseous, like walking inside a headache. | ||
She peered into the gray, unimpressed. Her tour of the arena where the Guardians and Lucent Hive would fight was proving disappointing. "Is this all there is?" | She peered into the gray, unimpressed. Her tour of the arena where the Guardians and Lucent Hive would fight was proving disappointing. "Is this all there is?" | ||
The Psion sent her a telepathic explanation: hosting | The Psion sent her a telepathic explanation: hosting Lightless beings in a Psion's Mindscape was like holding up a hazy mirror, reflecting what was held inside. It would be different, more tangible, for the Lucent Hive. For the [[Guardian]]s. | ||
"For those with the Light," she sighed, and as she did, a yellow glow lit the mist around her. | "For those with the Light," she sighed, and as she did, a yellow glow lit the mist around her. | ||
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And something loomed from behind it—something she knew. | And something loomed from behind it—something she knew. | ||
Xivu Arath towered in the sky, but now her father's corpulence spread to contain all she could see. His finery was tarnished; his purple silks dripped with rank saliva, his gold armor caked with pus. His form swelled grotesquely as it surged toward her. His wet mouth opened, lips slick with sweet fat. His bulging eyes stared wildly at nothing. | Xivu Arath towered in the sky, but now [[Emperor Calus|her father's]] corpulence spread to contain all she could see. His finery was tarnished; his purple silks dripped with rank saliva, his gold armor caked with pus. His form swelled grotesquely as it surged toward her. His wet mouth opened, lips slick with sweet fat. His bulging eyes stared wildly at nothing. | ||
She saw the floor of the Mindscape rise and transform into a barrier; the Psion was attempting to block | She saw the floor of the Mindscape rise and transform into a barrier; the Psion was attempting to block Calus out. | ||
"No," she commanded, her voice tight. The barrier dissipated. | "No," she commanded, her voice tight. The barrier dissipated. | ||
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And when the Lucent Hive reached Shaw Han, eager to feast on the New Lights… they met the Vanguard instead. | And when the Lucent Hive reached Shaw Han, eager to feast on the New Lights… they met the Vanguard instead. | ||
==IV - Shutdown== | |||
[[Crow]] pulled up his hood and watched as the Guardian's ship roared out of the Hangar to race after Caiatl's flagship on the way to the [[Scarlet Keep]]. | |||
He kept to the shadows as he made his way up to the [[H.E.L.M.]], pushing through the throngs in the Bazaar with an easy grace, inconspicuous even in his recognizable garb. His light movements belied the twist of guilt in his stomach: Saladin had requested him to handle recon on the mission, yet here he was, creeping instead through the Tower like a common thief. | |||
There would be consequences, of course, but he could accept that. We all have to make sacrifices, he thought. | |||
He held his breath as he opened the doors to the Psisorium. As they clicked shut behind him, he threw back his hood and allowed himself a sigh and a smile. | |||
Crow looked up at the Lucent Hive suspended in the holding tanks—not dead, but certainly not alive. The Psion sat in its chair, twitching faintly, its long fingers moving as though tracing through water. Pulses of blue energy radiated out from the Psion's skull and into the depths of the machine. | |||
"I've got some good news," Crow said pleasantly to the Psion as he passed. | |||
The Psion, as always, said nothing. Crow didn't mind. It probably took all its energy to keep the Hive preserved well enough to skim through their memories. | |||
"This war is over, thanks to you," Crow continued. "They sent the Guardian, and when the Guardian sets out to do something, it gets done." | |||
The skin on his neck prickled at an old memory. "Believe me." | |||
Crow approached a display interface covered in Cabal runes. He paged through menus until he saw the familiar Vanguard symbol nestled in a corner. He pressed it, and the language on the screen changed. He shook his head in wonder. "Imagine what we'll be able to make in the future when we're not busy squeezing secrets from the Hive." | |||
Crow frowned, looking up at the holding tanks. "After all this ugliness is behind us," he said and resumed scrolling through the menus. "Now, how do we shut this thing down?" | |||
He found his answer in a hidden directory of commands: SECURITY > OVERRIDE > SHUTDOWN > IMMEDIATE. | |||
He paused for a moment, imagining what Saladin's reaction would be. But he, of all people, should understand. "After all," Crow said quietly to himself, "the right path isn't always easy to find." | |||
Crow executed the command. | |||
He walked toward the Psion as the lights on the machine began to turn red in sequence. "Let's get you out of here, friend," he said as the Psion began to stir. It blinked slowly and opened its eye. Crow smiled and waved. | |||
"Good morning," he said. "Would you like to go get some ramen?" | |||
The pulsing current running through the tubes in the back of the Psion's head slowed, and Crow winced as a white-hot pinpoint of pain stabbed into his mind, shrieking a single word, clear and impossibly loud: | |||
STOP! | |||
The machine sputtered. Sparks erupted from the central hub. Cracks spiderwebbed across the holding tanks. Electricity arced from the control panel and Crow staggered backwards. | |||
Without warning, the energy current in the tubes suddenly reversed. Waves of blue quickly flowed back toward the Psion. He was pulling at the cables connecting him to the chair when the first blast of feedback hit him. His body spasmed with pain. | |||
Wave after wave of Psionic energy pounded into the base of the Psion's skull. His muscles stood out in sharp relief as he pulled against the cables, his hands desperate claws, his face stretched with terror. | |||
The pulses thrummed faster and faster and the Psion began to scream; a high, thin noise. He beat at his own head with one spindly hand, and reached the other out toward Crow. | |||
Crow reached back as another wave of energy hit the Psion, bursting his retina, turning his eye into a muddy black sphere. Crow recoiled in horror, his mind pierced by unimaginable pain, and he fell to the floor in a heap. | |||
The machine groaned, hissing smoke, the holding tanks boiling, the Hive bodies inside dancing grotesquely in the roiling fluid. The blaring sirens began to overpower the hoarse, sustained screaming. | |||
Something snapped inside the machine and it shuddered to a stop. | |||
And, finally, silence. | |||
==V - Rite Proven== | |||
Saladin hears Caiatl's voice boom over the endless drone of the imperial cruiser's engines. Grains of bloodied sand trickle from the ceiling of the Cabal-sized elevator and fall against his helm as he rides up to the brightly lit arena floor. | |||
"[[Guhrn Or'ohk]], Valus in the empress's service. You challenge the Iron Lord Saladin Forge, Bracus in the empress's service. You outrank this man." Her words circle the spectator stands, sending a hush through the gathered crew. | |||
"As it should be." Or'ohk, his challenger, stands not ten paces in front of him. | |||
Caiatl presses, "Why challenge him? Did this man slight you?" | |||
Or'ohk turns to her, kicking up sand. "He walks our halls, trains our soldiers, and shares our meals as if he is Cabal. That slights. He is not Cabal. I'm not the only one to say so." | |||
Saladin looks to Caiatl. He'd attempted to stop this, tried to staunch unnecessary violence with reason, but tradition is not so easily denied. | |||
<nowiki>**</nowiki>EARLIER<nowiki>**</nowiki> | |||
"This is ridiculous. Killing your officers only weakens us." Saladin stepped toward Caiatl. Even seated in her chambers, her eyes were level with his. | |||
"Funny how our perspectives have shifted since we first met," Caiatl grunted. | |||
"Why are you humoring this?" | |||
"Quieting rebellious words does not weaken us. It binds authority in blood." Caiatl looked back to myriad datapads on her desk. "If he submits, no one has to die." | |||
"That seems likely," Saladin quipped sarcastically. | |||
Caiatl stood. "He wants you stripped of your rank and made to clean war beast pens. Indefinitely." | |||
"And that is worth his life?" | |||
"I know pride isn't a foreign concept to you… Lord." Caiatl spat out his title and walked past him. | |||
Saladin sneered. | |||
The empress turned to him as she opened her chamber doors, ushering him out. "What if you lose?" | |||
He huffed so hard he almost choked. | |||
<nowiki>**</nowiki>NOW<nowiki>**</nowiki> | |||
Caiatl nods to Saladin. To Or'ohk. They nod back. | |||
"When the [[Rite of Proving]] was conceived, it was to be a level field of battle. We honor that tradition here!" Caiatl slams a fist down for emphasis before pointing to the arena floor. "Single combat by blades. One life, no Light. Death… or submission determines the victor." | |||
The crowd erupts in roars as a weapon rack rises from the floor. Or'ohk lifts a heavy cleaver from the rack. Saladin sees his own axe there; he glares at Caiatl for taking it without permission and lifts the axe. | |||
With weapons drawn, the Rite of Proving begins. | |||
Or'ohk lunges and thrusts the cutting edge of his cleaver toward Saladin's ribs. Saladin sidesteps the massive Cabal blade and bats it down with the haft of his axe. The two test each other's range and speed with a series of back and forth half-committed strikes—until Or'ohk gains favorable footing and bursts forward to swing at Saladin's waist. | |||
Saladin narrowly tumbles over the cleaver. Sparks of contact spit from his leg guards. He lands on his knees and jabs the blunt head of his axe against Or'ohk's exposed throat. | |||
"This is your one chance to yield," Saladin says as the Valus sputters for air and stumbles backward. Or'ohk's cough turns to laughter. He kicks up a cloud of sand and leaps with his cleaver brandished overhead. Saladin wipes granules from his visor and raises his axe to block Or'ohk's heavy swing. The Iron Lord absorbs the shock and controls Or'ohk's blade, sliding it down to catch on his axe-head, and pivoting the weapon's hefty pommel to butt Or'ohk hard in the face. | |||
Or'ohk staggers away and slashes wildly, splitting Saladin's visor and drawing blood. The Iron Lord throws his ruined helm to the ground and wipes blood. He advances, ducking under a deterring swing, parries a second chop away, and severs the Valus's hand. | |||
"Yield!" Saladin growls as blood pours onto the sand. | |||
Or'ohk looks to him, to the cleaver still clutched in his detached hand, and back to Saladin. "Never to you." He dives for the cleaver. | |||
Saladin swings, catching Or'ohk's jaw, spewing blood. Or'ohk tenses for a moment, then falls limp. | |||
The Iron Lord sighs and wrenches his axe free, painted as a warrior in the eyes of the Cabal. | |||
Cheers erupt. Caiatl's voice cuts through the frenzied crowd. | |||
"Rise… Valus Forge!" | |||
[[Category:Lore]] | [[Category:Lore]] | ||