A red haze permeated the cramped corridors of the eliksnian dropship, as the occupants were allowed to chitter away idly in their alien tongue. Their Captain stood hunched over at the end of the transport bay, his imposing silhouette dwarfing every other eliksnian in the room. His four eyes burned with a strange blueish-white light that poured through the eye slots in his elaborate helmet, his ether breathing apparatus concealing his spider like facial features as his gaze swept back and forth across the other nine eliksni in the bay.
He shifted one of his upper arms to get a better grip on the stability rail above him, his lower set of arms moving to rest in a crossed position across his midsection. He wore a hardy, rubberlike bodysuit with grooves carved into it beneath his multiple layers of white plated armor, the plates arranged in such a way so as to allow him a full range of movement. The tattered teal cloak draped across him signified his place as a Captain from the House of Winter, along with the intricate and ornately decorated, crested helmet atop his head.
Three of the other eliksni within the dropship were adorned similarly, a simple grey bodysuit beneath an adequate amount of armor that managed to be bulky, yet form fitting at the same time, along with a shorter, tattered cloak than what the Captain wore draped across them. Their helmets, similarly, integrated their ether breathing apparatus into them, concealing most of their face, only allowing their four glowing eyes to poke through the angled, wide V shaped eye slot that ran along the front of the helmet. They each held a shock rifle, a strange, bulbous weapon that crackled with electricity around the shock cores embedded in the midsection of the rifle. Each of the three eliksni Vandals carried it proudly as a sign of their rank, clutching it tightly against their chest with their upper pair of arms, while their lower set fiddled with the set of shock grenades they all carried on their belt.
The Captain's gaze shifted to the other six eliksni in the dropship, his eyes narrowing as he did so, as all six of them turned their heads to the floor. There was no uniform or standardization to be had among them, save for that each one wore an ether breathing mask, and their House colors in the form of tattered scraps of dirty, washed out teal rags. Each one was different, their armor seemingly scavenged from battles past, and pieced together in a ramshackle attempt at providing adequate protection.
But what really set this motley band of souls apart, was their lack of a lower set of arms. Instead, each one had useless stubs where there should have been arms, the nubs covered by a metal casing that stunted their growth. They had not yet earned the privilege to become a Vandal, to be allowed to regrow the arms they had been docked of.
They were the dregs, the bottom rung of eliksnian society. Each of them tightly gripped a shock dagger in one hand, and a shock pistol in the other, their legs and arms wrapped in tattered cloth and bandages. What little armor plating they did wear was limited to a chest plate, thigh guards, and an open helmet which was separate from their ether mask, their spiky, dark hair poking through the open slot in the top. A lucky few had scavenged the odd knee or elbow guard, but none had a set of armor as complete as a Vandal.
As the Captain eyed them up and down, one of them dared to look up from the cold metal floor. He met the Captain's gaze head on, the audacious dreg's eyes burning intensely, unafraid of his superior's watchful eye. Neither one said a thing, but they each knew what the other would say.
They both held the stare for a solid minute, the dim red light that illuminated the transport bay making it all the more intense, as even the other dregs slowly looked up to gawk at the situation, a mix of disbelief and shock washing over their faces. One vandal shifted uncomfortably , raising a lower arm in the disrespectful dreg's direction as he spoke.
"Skell-"
The Captain immediately raised an arm to silence him, and the vandal deflated instantly as the massive eliksni shuffled forwards, toward the dreg. As he neared, the dreg spoke, his voice calm, soft, and surprisingly composed for a Fallen of his caste.
"I'm not going."
The approaching Fallen stopped dead in his tracks, now only a few feet from the dreg. His words had hit him like a slap across the face, like they were an insult. He took another stride forward, one of his lower arms reaching for the grip of the shock blade dangling in its scabbard at his side, the shape of the straight blade reminiscent of a tanto, but much longer. He remained silent, his expression conveyed entirely through his menacing posture, as his burning eyes narrowed at the dreg.
"I refuse to participate in ano-"
The Captain's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the floor and pressing him against the wall forcefully in a split second, the massive eliksni having lunged for the dreg mercilessly. His shock blade came out of its sheath in one fluid motion, raising the crackling blade to the defiant dreg's exposed throat, the dim blue light the arcing electrical field surrounding it gave off revealing that the dreg was sweating profusely, his black skin glistening under the oppressive glow.
"How dare you address me in that bastard language," the Captain said menacingly, in fluent English, mocking Skell in his preferred language.
The others in the transport bay remained deathly still, even the vandals shocked into submission at the ruthless display. All was silent for a few seconds, as the Captain stared into the dreg's eyes, the defiant fool refusing to look away even as the life was choked out of him.
"Very well dreg, if you prefer the language of mongrels, then I see you have chosen well. Halved ether ration. Thirty cycles. No exceptions," the Captain's authoritative, booming voice resounded through the hold as he released his death grip on the dreg, the worthless scum falling to the floor with a metallic thud, gasping for ether. The Captain stomped back over to his former place at the end of the transport bay, his steely gaze glossing over the rest of his crew as he sheathed his shock blade, continuing to speak in the foreign tongue, just to spite Skell, to make his words deadly clear to the oddball dreg.
"Next one to step out of line gets a shock round to the skull."
No one dared argue, the only sound being that of the pathetic dreg's ragged breathing, as he got to his feet. He looked at the Captain, a mix of humiliation and anger burning in his eyes as he settled back into his spot.
The Captain smirked beneath his helmet, motioning with one of his lower arms to allow his crew to continue their conversations.
Chatter filled the room slowly as the other eliksni spoke hesitantly at first, to see if they were being tested, before resuming their conversations in earnest when no response was garnered from the Captain, the guttural, rumbling sound of their native tongue filling the room.
"Skell, you're gonna get yourself killed you moron. We discussed this, you can't - we can't speak this to anyone except each other. It's not safe and there's absolutely no reason to not speak in eliksnian like everyone else," the vandal that had spoken earlier said, his voice a mix of frustration and genuine concern. Skell-Rook glanced over at him, his expression softening as he saw the worried look in his friend's eyes. He turned his head to the ground for a moment, before speaking.
"No, there is," Skell spoke softly, raising a hand to his chest, still looking at the ground. "This isn't who I am, but it is what the eliksni have become. You know what we're doing, you know it's not right Kalnir, and if this is just what we are, as a people, then as far as I'm concerned, I'm not an eliksni anymore."
Kalnir's gaze met Skell's as he looked up from the floor, and the two stared at each other for a moment, before Kalnir sighed in defeat, Skell's impassioned words reverberating within him. Kalnir glanced over to the Captain, who was idly fiddling with the assortment of devices attached to his belt. He looked back at Skell, his voice a near whisper, hoping that the other conversations would mask his words well enough.
"I ... I know. But Skell, you ... " he choked a little trailing off, almost afraid to say it "you can't try and pretend you're something you're not. This is our way of life, its how we survive, Skell. There's no other way for us, no way around it. We're pirates, raiders and scavengers, through and through."
Skell's expression intensified as he looked into Kalnir's eyes, his own burning with a deep hatred at the mention of those repulsive words.
"You and I, we're not evil Kalnir. Even though we've both done wrong in the past, done some pretty brutal stuff to get by, I know, deep down, that it's true. This isn't where we belong."
Kalnir glanced over to the Captain once again, the much larger eliksni still toying with the gadgets on his belt.
"Where are we supposed to go? What are we supposed to do? Hijack a servitor and live happily ever after? You and I both know how it ends if we try and desert. Not only that, but even if they didn't come looking for us, where are we supposed to get ether, huh? I don't even know how the damned things work, but I do know, that the servitors are the only thing capable of producing ether, and as far as I know, Archons and Kells don't go around handing out millennia old relics to just anyone," his voice started as a whisper, steadily rising in volume as Kalnir tried to make it clear to Skell the sheer lunacy he was proposing. Skell's expression faltered underneath his friend's verbal attacks, looking at the floor sheepishly as he continued his rant.
"Look, Skell, I get it, I really do. I want to do what's right too, but I want to have ether in my lungs more. I want to wake up tomorrow more," Kalnir paused for a moment, eyeing Skell up and down noticing Skell's deflated posture.
"Then I guess that's where we differ," Skell shot back sharply, his words tipped with venom, interrupting Kalnir with disregard to manners.
Kalnir stared at Skell, slightly incredulous at his response. Skell had always been a strange friend, but he had never come across as a self righteous martyr, yet there he stood before him, having spoken his piece.
"Yeah , guess so," Kalnir choked out uneasily, unsure of what to think. Though the dropship was filled with the chittering of eliksnian, the silence between the two was tangible as Kalnir awkwardly turned away from Skell, the dreg still staring at the floor, hiding his eyes from view.
Skell muttered something under his breath, looking back up, a strange look in his eyes. A dangerous one. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat, and he remained silent. He glared at Kalnir, shaking his head in disappointment as the Captain's voice filled the room, his fluent English grabbing their attention.
"We're approaching the drop off. You all know the target, you all know there's a chance of Guardian interference. We don't extract until that gate is scrapped, regardless," he said, his commanding voice cutting through the chatter that instantly died down as he spoke. It was clear he still had it out for Skell as his gaze lingered a moment longer on him than any of the other dregs.
The three vandals, Kalnir included, tightened their grip on their shock rifles, while the dregs brandished their shock knives, holding their shock pistols across their chest, save for Skell, who let the weapons hang at his side, almost disgusted with the tools of the trade he had never wanted to be a part of.
Though the Captain was done speaking, the transport bay remained deathly silent in the minutes leading up to the drop. Skell holstered his shock pistol and readjusted the few tattered pieces of teal cloth that signified his allegiance to the House of Winter, but as he did so, he felt a rising urge to simply tear the scraps from himself and be done with the life of a pirate.
If only it were that simple. A lifetime of pillaging and raiding, doing what needed to be done to survive had warped his moral compass, even though he had desperately tried to hold onto the values and teachings of the grand civilization the eliksni had once proudly presided over. He clutched his ragged, hole ridden, teal shawl tightly, his muscles tensing as he shook slightly, preparing to rip it off. He looked down at his trembling hand, and then over to Kalnir, who was eyeing him intently. He shook his head ever so slightly.
Skell knew he was a dead eliksni if he renounced his allegiance to his House, knowing that the Captain would gut him right then and there.
But he didn't care, the dangerous, desperate look in his eyes flaring up as he made up his mind, hesitating for a moment as a seemingly unimportant thought was pushed to the forefront of his train of thought. Kalnir had told him something once. Something that he had carried with him, all this time.
You should always choose a side, even if it's the wrong one.
He hadn't said anything at the time, unsure of whether he was right. But now Skell knew the answer.
He knew Kalnir was wrong.
With an abrupt jerk of his arm and a tearing sound that permeated the entire room, Skell ripped his shawl from himself, holding it beside him for a moment, before letting it flutter to the floor in a heap. The dregs on both sides of him gawked at the display, eyes wide as the shawl hit the floor.
Skell proceeded to scour the rest of himself in a passionate frenzy, tearing loose any strand of cloth or rag with his house colors, and casting them aside as the Captain at the end of the room looked on, unmoving and silent. Kalnir glanced at him, noticing the look in his eyes, the restrained, implacable rage burning in them. He knew what was about to happen, as the Captain's lower right arm reached for the shock pistol holstered at his side, his three armored fingers wrapping around the grip, sealing Skell's fate.
As Skell tore the final piece of colored fabric from himself, the Captain drew his pistol, and in one fluid motion, leveled it at him.
It was at that moment, that the entire front of the dropship erupted into a blazing inferno, as it was torn in half violently. The entire area behind the Captain was gone in an instant, as the terrible explosion rocked the transport bay, taking half of the dropship with it, sending everyone tumbling to the ground, flailing desperately to get a grip on the stability rails overhead.
The Captain's one hand, tightly gripping the rail above him was the only thing that had saved him from being immediately thrown from the transport bay. He struggled as he placed another one of his hands on the rail, the remainder of the dropship now spiraling towards the ground below, thick smoke billowing from the wrecked engines on the side, as blindingly bright bolts of red energy streaked through the air, ripping into the side of the ship with explosive results as a hole was torn in the side of the transport bay. Two dregs were ejected from the transport bay , the hole where they had once been allowing Kalnir to catch a quick glance of them flailing helplessly as they fell alongside a hail of smoking debris.
"Skeellll-Roooookk!!!" the Captain's enraged voice cut through the din as another red bolt tore a hole in the side of the ship, instantly vaporizing the dreg next to Skell where it had punched through. They were rapidly approaching the ground.
Skell, clutching the railing overhead for dear life, shot the Captain a venomous, defiant look, and he returned it with another bellowing roar.
"If the Vex don't kill you, I will!"
The dropship slammed into the ground with a tremendous explosion of rock and dirt, grinding to a halt as smoke billowed off of the twisted mass of wrecked metal, electrical fires raging across the hull as energy bolts continued to tear into it, the whole thing coming to a rest with the front of it buried into the ground.
Skell's blurry vision was marred by black spots as he took stock of his situation, desperately trying to stand as the dreg to his left was blown apart by another energy bolt that ripped through the dropship's ruined hull like it was paper. The wiring and inner workings of the ship had been freed from their compartments by the anti air fire, the holes in the roof and sides of the transport bay revealing a sparking mass of tangled wires and technology, intertwined with valves and pipes that had been torn open, leaking a deep purple, synthetic fluid.
Skell scrambled forwards, towards the section of the transport bay that had been blown apart, glancing over to the three vandals on the opposite wall. Kalnir wasn't moving.
Cursing profusely under his breath, Skell stumbled uneasily over to Kalnir, as the vandal beside him struggled to his feet, before crumpling forward, a sizeable piece of metal shrapnel lodged in his chest, rivulets of violet blood contrasting starkly against his stark white breastplate as he hit the floor with a metallic thud, the light in his eyes darkening, before flickering, and fading to black. Skell had watched the display in horror, before snapping himself back to reality with a thorough shake of his head, springing into action as he threw his shock knife to the ground, before gripping Kalnir with both hands, and looking into his dim eyes.
"Kalnir, c'mon, we gotta go!"
He attempted to get him to move, but Kalnir said nothing, motioning weakly to his ether mask. Skell glanced at the breathing apparatus, and a grim look washed over him almost instantly upon seeing the severed tubes that fed into his mask, spewing precious ether.
Skell released his grip on Kalnir, before dropping to the floor beside the dead vandal, desperately trying to rip his intact mask from him, even as another red energy bolt tore into the side of the ship. He struggled with it for a moment, releasing the metallic clasps on it, before wrenching it free from the dead eliksni, detaching the ether supply tubes, and scrambling to his feet.
In a frenzy of desperate motion, Skell unclasped the damaged apparatus from Kalnir, before thrusting the new one onto his face immediately, connecting the ether tubes to a small cylindrical compartment attached to the armor on his back. With a relieved gasp, Kalnir's eyes instantly brightened as he was able to breathe again.
Skell wasted no time, grabbing Kalnir by one of his arms, and dragging him towards an opening at the front of the wreck. The other remaining dreg had the same idea, and crawled through the opening in a bid for survival, only to be met with a torrent of Vex energy bolts, the red lasers tearing him to shreds, reddish purple blood pooling around the corpse in the seconds afterwards.
Kalnir resisted Skell's grip upon seeing the dreg torn to pieces, breaking free of Skell's grip and falling backwards against the side of the dropship with a thud. He glanced to his right and recoiled instantly, a mixture of shock and fear dancing across his face.
It was the Captain. His eyes had gone dim, his eye slots giving off no light. His dead hands still held the shock pistol that would have ended Skell had things not turned out how they had. Kalnir's eyes darted around the massive eliksni's crumpled form, centering on the jagged, twisted piece of broken metal jutting out of his stomach, shredded pieces of his guts having escaped his body. Violet blood poured from where the Captain had been violently impaled upon impact, pooling around his corpse, staining his teal cloak.
Kalnir's emotions raged against one another, part of him thankful that he wouldn't have to deal with that situation, and part of him scared out of his mind, realizing the dire straits they were in.
"Skell ..." , Kalnir trailed off, his breathing ragged, his voice hoarse and laden with grim acceptance.
"Don't give me that defeatist bullshit right now Kal. You said it yourself, you wanna wake up tomorrow, more than anything else. So then, let's do this," Skell spoke, an aura of determination about him as he outstretched his arm, offering his hand to Kalnir. The vandal looked up, into Skell's blazing, dangerous eyes. He was fairly sure Skell was unabashedly insane, but that very same look harbored a deep desire to survive, to live another day, and that was something he could get behind. Shaking himself out of his grim mindset, and grasping Skell's hand, Kanlnir managed a weak smile as Skell began helping him to his feet.
Another red energy bolt tore through the wreckage at that very moment, piercing the hull on one side, and slamming directly into Kalnir's chest, as he was torn apart in a split second by the explosive blast, his reddish purple blood spattering against Skell as he stood there, frozen in shock for a moment. He was still clutching Kalnir's severed arm.
He let the appendage fall to the ground with a sickly plop, blood pooling around it. This wasn't a battle anymore, if it had ever been one, it was a fight for survival.
Shaking himself out of his dazed stupor, Skell attempted to reason what his next course of action should be, holding back the tidal wave of grief that was slamming against his mental defenses, telling him to give up and mourn the loss of his only friend. He could feel his composure cracking, as his legs gave out, falling to his knees, and slamming his fists into the ground in a fit of grief induced rage. He shook his head momentarily, before taking a deep breath, and attempting to curb his emotions, knowing that the only way he was going to get through this, was by keeping a level head. He had fought the Vex before. Their cold, calculating method of warfare was unforgiving, and entirely detached from emotional impulses. The only way to beat them, was by playing their game, by being just as logical and practical as they were, regardless of how your emotions affected you.
With a newfound resolve, Skell pushed back the torrent of grief momentarily, calming himself as he pounded on his helmet, attempting to spark some genius idea that would get him out of the situation alive, raging against the overwhelming desire to just accept his death, desperately trying to remain as composed as one could be in such a situation. Panicking would only get him killed. He glanced over to the last remaining vandal slumped against the wall, his breathing apparatus broken similarly to Kalnir's, his form unmoving; he had suffocated.
With no better idea of what to do, Skell stumbled over to the two dead vandals in a survival driven stupor. Starting with the one on the floor, he fumbled with their ether supply packs, and detached them, before fastening the small metallic cylinders to his belt. Scanning the area frantically for any others, Skell remembered the Captain, trudging over to the massive corpse with a purpose. He would have smirked upon seeing the defeated eliksni, but given that his friend had just been blown apart, knowing he was probably next, he wasn't in any kind of mood to smile.
He rolled the corpse over, disengaging his much larger, rounded square shaped ether supply compartment, realizing that he'd have to carry it under one of his arms it was so large. He could only guess as to how much of the precious substance it held.
Skell ducked down as another energy bolt tore into the hull of the transport bay, impacting one of the dead vandals, the corpse exploding spectacularly in a shower of gore, before the torrent of laser fire finally ceased. Skell dragged himself into a corner, nestling up beside the Captain's corpse as he attempted to remain deathly still.
He could hear metallic footsteps, methodic and measured, stomping towards him. There must have been at least five of those damned robots closing in. There was no way he would survive a confrontation with that many, even with access to the dead vandals' shock rifles and the Captain's shock blade. He was a decent fighter, but he was no Kell.
With nowhere to run, Skell decided his best option was to hide, quickly scurrying underneath the Captain's massive corpse, propping it up on top of him, and attempting to shrink into the corner of the ruined transport bay, the much larger eliksni's weight nearly crushing him.
The metallic clanking ceased, as a red glow pierced one of the holes in the hull of the dropship. A Vex peered through, its central, red eye scanning the interior with a cold and detached glare, its steely gaze shifting around the room, taking note of the casualties. After a few nerve wracking moments, it centered on the dead Captain, and Skell could feel it looking at him. He tensed up, holding his breath as he attempted to remain still.
The Vex tilted its head quizzically, looking at the corpse intently, before turning away, and sauntering off with the rest of its unit. It was only once the metallic din of their march was but a distant echo that Skell dared to even breathe, gasping for ether as he relaxed his muscles.
"Fuckin ... tin cans ..." he muttered to himself between ragged breaths, as he forced the corpse off of himself, the Captain's body slumping off of him unceremoniously.
Skell sat up against the wall, still clutching the ether storage compartment under one of his arms. His mind was a mess, his thought process completely derailed and racing in a million different directions as he attempted to devise his next course of action. The thought of making a mad dash for eliksnian territory crossed his mind briefly, before he mentally slapped himself for even considering such a thing. He looked down at himself, devoid of his former House colors.
Live or die, there wasn't any going back now.
Quickly discarding that idea, he scurried over to the other side of the ruined transport bay, hesitantly peering out one of the smaller holes in the hull. In the distance, he could see the group of Vex that had come to investigate him, their bronze forms glinting in the early morning light. He glanced around, his eyes darting frantically around the Venusian landscape, searching for, something. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, the only thought in his mind at the moment screaming at him to find anything that might save him.
After a few moments of frantic searching, his gaze centered on a large, circular structure, composed of two circles, the innermost one glowing a bright white, rippling with a strange, otherworldly distortion field. A Vex gateway. From what he had heard, little bits and pieces of rumour spread aboard his House's ketch, that was what allowed the Vex to teleport around. He wasn't sure of all the details, but it stood to reason that if it worked one way, it might work both ways, at least in his mind.
Still, he could only guess as to what might be waiting for him on the other side, if it even worked both ways. He glanced around, noticing a few other Vex patrols striding across the landscape here and there. They weren't everywhere, but there were enough to make him feel nervous enough to duck back into cover. It was only then that he realized his breathing was way out of control, hyperventilating almost, and it took him a few moments to calm himself.
He mulled over his other options, not liking the prospect of being whisked away to a place filled with those things. He could just attempt to run, but as he thought about it more and more, Kalnir's words reverberated in his head clearly, and he sighed, realizing his late friend was right. If the Vex didn't vaporize him, his House would come looking for him, and even if he managed to elude them, he'd run into a Guardian sooner or later, and then it'd be lights out for sure.
Not only that, but regardless of the supply of ether he was hefting around, it would run out sooner or later, and he couldn't exactly just waltz up to any random servitor and ask nicely. He was on the clock; it was only matter of time before the reaper would be calling his name.
Still, Skell refused to submit to the inevitability of his death, even if he knew there was no way around it now. If the reaper was coming for him, he'd have to catch him first. He peeked back through the hole, glancing over at the gate, and watching it with interest, as another group of Vex emerged from the glowing center of it, their arrival coinciding with a sizeable ripple of energy.
As they came, another group went, the damaged and ramshackle group of Vex hobbling towards the portal, before stepping through, accompanied by another temporal ripple. Skell mentally rejoiced at the finding, realizing that he might actually have a decent shot at getting his plan to work. At the very least, he knew that if he could get there, the gate might let him through. The only problem now, was getting there without turning into a cauterized hunk of destroyed flesh.
With a groan Skell ducked back down, and hobbled over to the Captain's corpse, setting down the stolen ether compartment, and setting to work on the body. Most of the Captain's armor was far too large for Skell, but a few pieces, like the arm guards and greaves would do just fine, albeit they were a loose fit. He fastened whatever clean white and tan armor plating he could to himself, whatever would fit him. He made sure none of the armor he took bore his former House's colors, and was thankful that there were still plenty of unmarked pieces, more than enough to salvage a full suit. He even wrenched the maglocked, modular plating off of the corpse's chest plate, and attached them to his own meager breast plate, reinforcing it many times over. He even took the Captain's high capacity magnetic belt, slinging it across his shoulder like a chest strap, the shock blade in its scabbard dangling across his chest, as he placed the large ether compartment on his back, attached to the belt like a backpack. He even pried the shock pistol from the dead eliksni's hands, putting it back in its proper holster, which was now right below the shock blade, across his chest.
After picking his corpse clean, Skell scurried over to the one vandal that had managed to stay mostly intact, his mind briefly wandering to Kalnir, forcing him to fight back a sudden wave of grief as he picked over the body, managing to salvage two shock grenades, and a shock rifle with a rechargeable core. He carried the rifle in one hand, before attaching it to the mag belt above the ether compartment on his back, fastening the stick like grenades to his belt proper around his waist, bringing his supply of grenades up to three, counting the one he had been supplied with prior to the mission. He checked to make sure his own shock pistol was still where he had holstered it, and indeed it had remained in place at his side through all the chaos. He wasn't sure if he'd need all the firepower he was packing, but he certainly felt more confident, armed to the teeth like he was. If Kalnir had been right about anything, it was that they would come looking for him. Skell had a feeling he'd need it all, and more by the time he was done running from death.
Scavenging a few extra pieces of armor from the fallen vandal and slotting whatever supplementary plates he could into place, Skell made sure to take an extra set of arm armor. Archons be damned, no one was going to deprive him of his arms any longer, and as soon as he was in the clear, he was going to pry the infernal metal restraints around his lower set of arms off. He fastened the extra set of armor to the mag belt, carrying it on his back below the ether compartment, before crawling over to a much larger hole in the hull of the dropship, big enough for him to slip through.
He had done all he could to increase his chances of surviving the inevitable hail of energy bolts that would be directed at him. He might be able to shrug off one or two small hits, but if that laser cannon - Cyclops, he believed was its proper name - saw him, he was toast. He peeked out of the rent in the side of the ship, noticing that all of the Vex patrols were scattered and fairly far apart. He searched for a moment, attempting to locate the Cyclops that had blown up his dropship, but cursed under his breath when he couldn't find it. It must have been hidden somewhere, cloaked even. He'd heard some crazy stories about the Vex.
He plotted his route out in his head, making adjustments as he eyed the broken corpses of the other dregs that had been ejected from the dropship while in free fall, more specifically, the ether canisters attached to their back. If his own ether ration was anything to go by, theirs would only last seven cycles each, at best, but it was better than nothing. After all, he didn't know where under the stars he was headed, but he was pretty sure there wouldn't be any ether waiting for him when he got there. He silently mapped out his route, estimating that if he was quick and didn't make any mistakes, it'd take him around ten seconds per dreg to get their ether compartment and run. Discounting the two dregs that had been reduced to ashes, that meant three dregs total, thirty extra seconds added to his mad dash for the gate. That was a lot of extra time for him to get shot in the back.
Still, considering his circumstances, he reasoned that the risk involved was worth it. Fourteen extra cycles was a lot of time. Skell ducked back down , mentally preparing himself for the utter lunacy he was about to attempt. To say it was all a longshot, would be an understatement.
He held his head in his hands, and thought about it for a moment, before realizing he was still wearing his open dreg helmet. While it was reasonably comfortable, it wouldn't stop an energy bolt. He lifted it off of his head, fastening it around his waist, before inching over to the dead vandal he had picked over earlier. Though Skell had ripped his breathing mask from him earlier to save Kalnir, the rest of his helmet was still very much there. He eyed it over for a moment, taking note of the places he would have to attach it to his own ether apparatus. He had never worn such a helmet before.
He lifted the helmet off of the dead vandal, before placing it on himself, almost like a crown, making sure to fasten the clasps and attach it to his mask properly. After a moment of awkward fumbling , Skell was wearing a vandal helmet, his eyes poking through the eye slot. To tell the truth, he rather fancied the little decorative horns near the back. Aesthetics aside, he definitely felt a lot more confident having donned the final piece of protection he was able to salvage. He had done everything he could think of to prepare himself. Even so, doubt gnawed at him, even as he started towards his exit hole.
But Skell stopped dead in his tracks, realizing that even though he would have plenty of ether, relatively anyways, if his breathing mask broke, it'd all be useless. He trudged back over to the dead Captain, wrenching his entire helmet, ether apparatus and all, from his head.
As he popped the helmet free of the eliksni's head, Skell couldn't help but stare into his lightless, dead eyes, mesmerized by them. Skell felt a shiver run down his spine, as he realized, he was looking into the future, staring down at the corpse. No matter what he did, where he ran, he was going to die.
He stood there, helmet held in his hands, looking down at the twisted corpse for a moment longer, before nodding to himself, as he turned his attention to the helmet in his grasp. He ran his thumb along the cool metal ridge right above the eye slot, looking into the dark emptiness within the helmet. In that moment, peering into the hollow piece of armor, he realized that his death had already begun. Even now, breathing shakily, using up his precious supply of ether, he was inching ever closer to the grave.
He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them, and taking one last good look at the empty helmet, his gaze drifting over to the motionless eliksni he had stolen it from. It gave him a strange sense of detachment from the situation, having come to terms with the fact that he was essentially a walking corpse. Without a word, he attached the helmet to his belt, fastening it magnetically, feeling it snap secured.
He was starting to feel weighed down by the various odds and ends he was carrying, but he still felt like he was skimping on supplies. He briefly contemplated attempting to take all five of the dead dregs' ether masks too, just in case, but reasoned it would leave him out in the open far too long. Still, he decided to go with a half measure, as he scurried over to the opening that that one dreg had crawled through earlier, and been promptly shot to pieces.
He got onto his stomach, reaching out as far as he could, and grasped the dreg's leg, before pulling him back inside the wreck. He quickly set to work snatching the small ether compartment off of his back, cursing his luck as he threw the useless, punctured canister aside. Still, the dreg's ether mask was intact, which Skell eagerly separated from him, attaching the mask, along with the supply tubes that accompanied it, to the strap across his chest. He subtracted ten seconds from the extra time he'd have to spend out in the open, eyeing the final two dregs now.
Skell reluctantly trudged towards the rent in the ship's hull, peeking through it to make sure the patrols were still few and far between. Confirming that they were, Skell rolled his shoulders, readjusting the weight on his back as he readied himself. Up until this point, he wasn't entirely sure he would go through with this plan, but now that he was all geared up, standing there, gazing out at the Vex gate, it made him realize that this was it. In that one moment, Skell knew he had chosen his path.
With a lightning quick motion, Skell forced himself through the rent in the the side of the hull, and just like that, he was off. He was sprinting so fast he practically rolled to a stop as he tripped over himself trying to slow down as he came to the first dreg. He frantically fiddled with the eliksni's ether compartment, hastily detaching it from his corpse and attaching to his own chest strap.
As soon as he was done, he was sprinting like a crazed animal once again, and once more, he came to a less than graceful stop at the next dead dreg. He cursed under his breath as he realized this dreg had landed on his back, crushing his ether compartment, before quickly bolting to his feet and racing across the field.
With the gate fast approaching, Skell was starting to feel confident, like his plan might actually turn out alright. The sound of Vex gunfire quickly ended his optimistic streak, as his heart sank into his stomach.
At first he hadn't noticed, but Skell realized in the seconds after the laser fire had started, that it wasn't directed at him, no energy bolts exploding around him like he had expected. A bit further down the field, close to the Vex gate, almost in front of it, a torrent of blinding red energy bolts was bearing down on a Guardian, who was, to be generous to the Vex, slaughtering them wholesale. Deep purple void bolts composed of swirling, malevolent energy arced from the Guardian's hands, smashing into the robots and tearing them limb from limb in a fantastic display of power.
A warlock. Wonderful.
Skell glanced over his shoulder at the patrols further out that were stomping their way back to the gate. He was sure they had seen him by now. Just up and running away from the warlock wasn't an option, even if he didn't have intentions, which he did, on making it through the gate. Still, it felt incredibly stupid running directly towards something that was ripping murderous death machines into pieces, most likely for fun.
Reassuring himself that every option available to him would likely end in his demise, Skell pressed onwards reluctantly, beginning to chuckle slightly under his breath at his situation, every moment, any moment bringing with it the likely possibility of death. There wasn't really anything funny to laugh about, quite the opposite actually, but it helped relieved some of the constant, adrenaline fueled stress building inside of him. Yet his reluctance to continue towards the gate, and the warlock, didn't slow his pace. In fact , it spurred him to run even faster. There was a chance, even if ever so slightly, that the warlock might not see him if he was quick enough.
"Just ... a little ... further ..." he muttered to himself between breaths, pushing himself to the limit as he zoomed past the the embattled warlock in a blur of frenzied motion, the helmets attached loosely to his belt bouncing up and down, clattering against his armor with every step.
He was nearly there, just a few seconds away from the gate now, and the Vex hadn't even touched him. His spirits soared as the glowing white light of the gate blinded him, taking his final few strides forward.
But it was at that moment, that the warlock cast aside the final Vex attacking him, the machine exploding in a burst of void energy. The Guardian reared back with one arm, a ball of crackling, unstable matter forming in the palm of his hand, the writhing mass of energy defying the laws of time and space itself ; a nova bomb. Without a moment of hesitation, he released the bomb, shooting it forward with incredible force, sending it tearing through the air, aimed straight at Skell.
Just as Skell took his first step through the gate, his body becoming engulfed in white light, the nova bomb detonated behind him as he disappeared into the light. The brilliant purple explosion that followed brought the whole gate down, as the massive metal support structure crumbled, falling to the ground in a twisted heap.
Yet something strange happened, even as the last few bits of the physical gate came crashing down. The energy within the gate remained, with one key difference. The once serene, white portal had been warped into a swirling maelstrom of crackling, unpredictable void energy that flickered violently for a moment, before collapsing in on itself with a thunderous roar.
The warlock simply stood there, looking on at the unusual display, his robes fluttering in the wind, his armor glinting in the early morning light. He scratched his helmet, unsure of what had just happened.
A small, white, multi star shaped machine with a central, glowing blue eye materialized beside him, the ghost staring on at where the collapsed portal had been as well. The warlock glanced over to the ghost, shrugging his shoulders, expecting some kind of answer from it. The machine simply turned to the warlock, eyeing him up and down for a moment, before dematerializing, its sarcastic electronic voice echoing across the landscape as the Guardian took his exotic pulse rifle in both hands, turning to face the last few incoming Vex patrols.
"It was obviously magic. A wizard did it."
Skell-Rook was still going full steam ahead when he had entered the portal. In the split second that followed after, a myriad of strange things happened. For starters it hurt like hell. Every fiber of his being screamed in unbearable, sharp agony, as if each and every one of his cells was being stabbed, destroyed on a molecular level. He squeezed his eyes shut in response, gritting his teeth beneath his ether mask as a sudden burst of brilliant purple light exploded all around him. Indeed, it was so blindingly bright he could somewhat see the sudden explosion of color through his eyelids, as the pain receded momentarily.
His eyes shot open and were instantly assaulted by the iridescent mass of shifting void stuff that was swirling and exploding all around him, as he drifted through a black void that stretched on into eternity, feeling no ground beneath his feet. A landscape exploded into existence around him for a split second, the unmistakable metal structures of the Vex jutting out from the lush landscape, their seemingly nonsensical architecture standing out against the overgrown fields, their twisted and oddly shaped exteriors reflecting the Sun's light magnificently.
The entire scene dissolved right before his very eyes not a moment later, the landscape before him flickering for a moment, like a faulty projection, before disintegrating back into a writhing mass of black and purple void energy. He was back, drifting through an endless void once again, the ear drum shattering detonations of unstable matter his only companion as dozens of explosions erupted around him in a vibrant, awesome display of void energies.
It was almost beautiful, in its own strange way, were it not for the fact that the intensity of each burst of light blinded him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. As he clenched his eyes shut, the pain returned, with a vengeance. His entire being screeched in agony as he let loose a guttural roar of incomprehensible pain. It was the kind of all encompassing, indescribable pain that would warrant death, yet even though Skell-Rook was pleading, begging for the pain to stop, the sweet release of death was dangled before him, teasing him, before being yanked away harshly as the void around him dispersed, the ethereal darkness giving way to a more natural one.
The deep, penetrating pain subsided instantly, and was quickly replaced by a more familiar one as Skell smashed into something, face first, before collapsing into a heap on the ground with a weighty thud that echoed through the air. Apparently he had carried his momentum through to the other side.
He remained in a twisted pile on the floor, his instincts telling him to move, but the jarring, blunt pain in his head barking at him to stay down. He rubbed his helmet pointlessly, hoping to relieve some of the aching pain. At the very least, the soul destroying agony that had nearly strangled him into submission not moments ago had receded, but his entire body was still sore from the experience. Even raising his hand to rub his helmet ached, his muscles screaming at him to remain still. Skell was starting to think there was a very good reason only robots went in and out of Vex gates.
He stared off into space, looking at the dark, black ceiling just a few feet overhead, blinking a few times just to confirm his suspicions as his blurry vision cleared up. His world was tinted a light blue; he was in total darkness, but at least he could see, thanks to the eliksni's inherent low-light vision. He shifted his other arm slightly, running his palm along the cold, rough ground. Stone of some sort, he figured, turning his head to stare down at the blackened floor. It took him a moment to put two and two together, but after blinking a few times, Skell realized he must have landed in a cave of some description.
Skell cautiously sat up, groaning in pain as he did so. He would most likely be sore for the next few cycles, but he fought through the pain as he looked around, realizing he was in a tunnel of some kind, silently celebrating his escape with a weak smile upon realizing that no Vex were in sight. He didn't count out the idea that they might be lurking somewhere in the tunnel, but for now, he felt safe, the only sound he could hear being that of his own ragged breathing as he fought to bring the pace of it down.
He had landed sideways in the tunnel, slamming into one of the side walls, so that the path to his left was what he assumed was forward, and the path to his right was backward. He couldn't know for sure, but his guess was all he had to go on at the moment. After taking another few moments to orient himself, Skell sunk back down to the floor, the tunnel so narrow that he had to bend his legs to fit, and even then, his neck was pressed up against the opposite wall awkwardly. He supposed he hadn't really noticed how uncomfortable the position was at first, having been overwhelmed at the sudden relief from the intense pain that had plagued him earlier, along with the fresh wave of pain that came from smashing headfirst into a stone wall.
Skell sat back up almost immediately, sitting with his legs crossed as he reoriented himself to face the path to his left. It was around this time that his higher functions were starting to come back to him, and he began to question what under the stars had just happened. He glanced over his shoulder at the stretch of tunnel now behind him, unable to find anything out of the ordinary. It was just a roughly carved out, narrow tunnel devoid of any kind of identifying features.
He turned his head back to face the front, his mind wandering back to the fact that no Vex were in sight, nor could he hear them. With the way him slamming his head into the wall had resounded through the tunnel, he was fairly sure he'd have been able to hear the unmistakable clomp of metal feet a mile away. He held his breath for a moment, straining his hearing to pick up on anything that might give him a clue as to where he had ended up, but sighed a few moments later as the darkened tunnel remained eerily silent.
So he was in a pitch black tunnel, alone presumably; that was about the extent to which Skell could figure his situation out at the moment. He remained sitting for a few more moments, allowing his aching body to rest for the time being, multiple thoughts racing through his head, each one presenting a new question. He mulled over the multitude of questions he had, unable to answer most of them, but was genuinely stumped, and rather worried, about one in particular.
Where had the Vex gate gone?
He was no scientist, and knew about as much about the enigmatic Vex as anyone else, but he had figured that if he went through a gate, he'd come out of one too. Instead, he had just been spat out in some random location so far as he could tell, with no portal, or even any Vex in sight. Not that he was complaining, an empty tunnel in the middle of nowhere was far and away preferable to anywhere the Vex had set up.
Resolving to worry about the details of his situation later, Skell forced himself to his feet, struggling to stand at first before finding his footing. It wouldn't be easy to walk, but he couldn't just sit there forever, so with a grunt of exertion, he began to hobble forward uneasily, the deep soreness that plagued him stifling his movement, each step forward rigid and forced.
As he walked, he took stock of his gear, first checking to make sure all of the ether rations he had taken had survived the journey, including the large ether canister he was carrying on his back. He was pleased to find that they had all stayed in place, and none of them had been damaged to the point of being useless, just the odd dent here and there. After checking his ether supply, he ran a hand along his belt, finding that all of his grenades, and his pistol had stayed secure. Reaching behind him with one arm, he was relieved to find that the extra set of arm guards he had packed had survived the trip. He could still feel the metal restraints on the useless stubs that were his lower set of arms, and shuddered as he remembered the kind of pain he had endured the last time he had attempted to pry them off. Still after his recent ... experience, he was almost sure he could bear through it this time.
A brief moment later, as Skell finished checking his provisions by reaching behind him to check that his shock rifle was still in place above the large ether canister, he came to an abrupt bend in the tunnel, veering to the right. He could feel the shift in slope as he proceeded down the stretch of tunnel, sure that he was descending deeper into the ground now. It didn't bother him all that much though, just glad to have survived his unfortunate encounter. He figured that if he just kept going in one direction, he'd end up above ground eventually, and if not, he didn't mind retracing his steps and heading the other way, even if his aching body begged to differ.
Letting his mind wander for a moment as he continued down the lightless tunnel, every one of his steps echoing into the darkness around him, Skell began adding up all of the ether rations he had managed to bring with him. Each ration was designed to allow the respective caste of eliksni to operate in intense conditions for seven cycles, but larger eliksni, like vandals and captains, were given more to support their larger physiology, and to allow them to grow even larger.
Taking this into account, and recalling that vandals were around twice as large as dregs, and captains nearly four times as large, he began to calculate how long the ether he had hauled would last, figuring that if a vandal was twice as large, a ration from one would last twice as long.
Two dreg canisters, including own, plus two vandal rations and a captain ration meant he had around ... 42 cycles, plus however long the captain ration would last him. He didn't know exactly how much the hefty canister held, but he had a pretty good guess. Dreg rations would last him seven cycles, vandals, 14, so it stood to reason that if each rank, the ether ration was doubled, the captain's ration would add another 28 cycles to his 42, bringing the grand total of time before he would suffocate to death, up to 70 cycles.
"Woo ..." he muttered under his breath in a deflated tone, his raspy voice lingering for a few moments after as the sound waves bounced around inside the tunnel.
He stopped dead in his tracks as a foreign sound assaulted him, snapping him out of his contemplative stupor. Just as his grimly sarcastic cheer of triumph faded away, a sharp scraping sound echoed down the tunnel. So engaged in estimating the day of his certain death, Skell hadn't even noticed that he had come to another bend in the tunnel, this one veering off the right sharply. The scraping sound resounded through the air once more, prompting Skell to press himself up against a wall, reaching for his shock pistol as he poked his head around the corner to see what was causing the noise.
Skell had seen a lot of stuff in his time as a - reluctant as he was to say it - as a pirate, but the shifting figure just a few dozen feet down the hall was unlike anything he had encountered before. It was facing away from him, and it stood upright, but hunched over, on two squat legs as it dragged its massive claws along the wall alongside it, its meaty, muscled arms nearly the size of Skell's torso. It was hard to make out, but from where he was, Skell could tell that it was covered in a short grey coat of matted, unkempt fur. It even had a short, bulbous tail that appeared to be covered in fur as well, and had fleshy, bony spikes protruding out of it, the little tail wagging back and forth lazily as the creature went. His eyes darted around the backside of the being, taking note of the only two scraps of clothing it was wearing, a brown jacket of some sort, along with a bejeweled collar fastened around its neck. His gaze drifted to the side pockets of the jacket, stuffed to the brim, practically overflowing with glimmering gemstones of varying colors.
Skell drew his shock pistol, just in case, but as he wrestled the gun free of its holster, his plated arm clattered against the side of the wall. The figure's ears instantly perked up, standing at attention like a dog's, as it shifted and began to turn, letting its clawed hand fall from where it was dragging it along the wall.
Cursing under his breath for being a damned clumsy idiot, Skell ducked back behind the wall, the pace of his breathing picking up as he could hear the beast plodding back down the tunnel towards him. Its footsteps were heavy, and determined, each one punishing the stone beneath its feet.
Skell wasn't scared, just nervous. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself of as the footsteps neared, stopping just short of rounding the corner. He was pressed up against the wall as tight as possible, pistol held in one hand, hoping to somehow melt away into the shadows.
A muzzle poked around the corner, just below Skell's head, the canine snout sniffing the air heartily for a few moments, its glistening, black nose catching Skell's eye as he slowly positioned his arm, aiming the pistol at where he estimated the beast's head would appear when it rounded the corner.
The canine snout disappeared back around the corner, taking one final sniff before doing so. Skell waited, and waited, his finger trembling against the trigger of his gun, ready to fire the moment the beast came around the corner.
But it never did. Seconds stretched into minutes, and Skell was unable to tear himself away from looking at the corner expectantly. It was only when he suddenly felt something on his neck, someone breathing on him, that he whirred around frantically.
He was suddenly staring into two feral, yellow tinted eyes, as it exhaled another puff of hot, foul smelling breath into his face from its agape maw, filled with massive, dagger like teeth dripping with saliva.
"How th-"
Skell started in surprise, before being interrupted by a sharp blow to the back of his head from something behind him. His already weak body surrendered in defeat as the sudden wave of crackling pain in his head buckled his unsteady legs. He fell backwards, hitting the ground with a metallic thud as he stared up at two canine faces, just barely able to make them out through his darkening, blue tinted, blurred vision. They said something, he was sure of it, since their mouths were moving, but it all came out a jumbled mess to him, his ears still ringing as he fought to remain conscious.
It was a battle he knew he couldn't win, as he felt himself slipping, his eyes dimming, as they closed. He could feel his grip on his shock pistol loosening, as his mind began to fade away into unconsciousness , the glowing yellow eyes of the canine creatures burning themselves into his memory in the moments before he succumbed to darkness.
With a final, pained gasp, Skell-Rook drifted into unconsciousness.