• Published 9th Oct 2013
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The Dragon and the Force - FenrisianBrony



Spike disappears from Equestria, and ends up surrounded by Jedi

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The Man in the Mask, Unmasked

Harmony shot through the otherworldly realm of hyperspace like a knife, darting ahead of Canderous’s far larger vessel as they both shot towards what Revan assured them would be the start of their final destiny. Spike wasn’t sure about that last part, he’d heard enough similar sentiments down the years from Jedi Masters, jumped up General’s or maddened Sith, but he kept such thoughts to himself, seeing the effect such words were having on Canderous. The old warrior's eyes had a fire in them that had not faded one but since Revan first stoked it into life, sending out the word to the rest of Clan Ordo to converge upon Rekkiad. Already scattered over half a dozen nearby systems, it had not taken long for the sudden convergence to be noticed, and already reports were streaming in that multiple clans were now dotting the icy surface of the world. In short order, Rekkiad had gone from an unknown world, to a poorly kept secret, to a race against the close, Canderous driving his clan onwards to ensure that it would be Ordo who stood to take up the ancient mantle once more.

“We’re approaching the system,” Moonstone called out, Spike drawn from his silent contemplation to look towards where she was sitting, a smile crossing his face as she ‘worked’ the controls.

Both Spike and Moonstone knew, at least as much as either of them truly knew anything about Moonstone, knew that she had no real physical presence, her hooves visual manifestations, the dials beneath moving thanks to tiny portions of Spike’s own arcane power that she drew and manipulated as she mimicked the action a creature of flesh and blood would make. Despite everything, Spike found himself transfixed by the odd scene as it struck him just how out of place she was, even beside a displaced dragon such as himself. First she had simply been a manifestation of his ‘inside voice’, then a personification of his force and eventually magic. She’d been an unknown figure, then Twilight, now finally the green Alicorn she was now, and yet beyond the obvious, she was an enigma.

She was so like Desolation in what she was, and yet where Spike had felt fear at the mere thought of his darker self, he had never once felt anything of the sort from Moonstone. He trusted her with his life, a trust she had earnt time and time again, but was that trust true, or was it a part of her, some compulsion of her acne nature forcing him to trust her?

Spike shook his head as he forced the thoughts out of his head. She had done nothing to ever make him doubt her, and without someone far more skilled in magic aiding him, he would likely never know for certain, and the galaxy was seemingly bereft of those.

“Another reason to find home,” Spike murmured, his voice all but a whisper yet Moonstone’s ears flicked all the same. For a moment she looked as though she would turn and speak about it, but a second later the moment was gone, the bantha in the room being ignored yet again.

Spike couldn’t blame her, even if he hadn’t shared her longing deep in his heart. If she did have her own personality, rather than merely being a fragment of his own mind, then she had her own wants and desires, hopes and dreams and a longing for a place she had never seen, a yearning to stand beneath a sky she had never seen, and most damning of all, to meet people, no, that wasn’t enough, to meet ponies whose image she wore through force of habit and a heritage she would in all likelihood never see. It was an impossible mission that would consume their minds on those rare occasions that the pressing matters of the now allowed them respite to look to the future, and yet to find a single world upon millions was all but impossible without additional information, to find a world as technologically limited as Equis even more so. Over the decades, Spike had collated all the information he could, the sum total of a single scroll vomited up in his weakest moment, and all that had done was narrow down the size of the haystack he had to search from the size of the senatorial chamber to that of the Jedi Council chamber, a task that was for all intents and purposes, impossible.

Spike’s mind was finally snapped back to the present as the ships bridge lights dimmed almost imperceptibly a split second before it lurched under the strain of rapid deceleration, dropping out of hyperspace a split second before Candeous’s vessel. As easily as flipping a switch, Spike pushed all thoughts of Equis and Equestria from his mind as his hands raced over the consoles. Shields flared into life around Harmony even as laser batteries charged and sensor arrays pulsed to bring a picture of near space, Spike knowing that Candeous would be doing the same as his eyes watched the sensor returns on the ships around Rekkiad. This was going to be a race alright.

Of the dozens of ships in orbit, close to half bore the sigils of Clan Ordo, but there were just as many from other clans; Brars, Jendri, Vizsla, Djarin, Saterr and more besides, a veritable gold rush for the greatest prize of a shattered people, and if Spike had his way, each would be disappointed when Candeours and Clan Odo stood above all others.

“Seems like we’re late to the party,” Canderous’s voice sounded over the comm, appearing unbidden on the deck’s holo-projector an instant later. “I’m sending landing coordinates to you now, you and the Harmony will descend to our camp on the surface to provide close air support, my warriors and I will descend on Basilisks and join you.”

“Understood,” Spike nodded. “Though if you’re wanting dedicated fire support, sending a few gunnery crew over wouldn’t go amiss, the targeting computer is hardly top of the line anymore. “

“I’ll send over three of my best,” Canderous’s reply was clipped and to the point, the channel going dead as he finished speaking. Not for the first time, Spike found himself marvelling at the warrior he had once named enemy.

The fire in Canderous’s eyes when he set his mind to a task was breathtaking. Of a calibre he had only seen its like in three others besides the Alore; Solaris, Meetra Suurik, and of course, Revan himself. Others could lead, Conel Mika had led the Special Forces with near unmatched skill, Master Kavar had been regarded as the greatest of the Jedi’s warriors before Revan had risen to prominence, and Spike himself had fought at the head of armies more times than he could count and forged a path to victory, and yet all paled in comparison. It was one thing to lead, but those three, and now Canderous besides them, could do more than simply lead, they could inspire entire worlds, entire peoples, driving them through fires than lesser commanders would have turned away from or perished within.

“If you’re quite finished gushing over Canderous,” Moonstone cut in with a giggle,” the crew from his vessel are almost here, opening aft airlock now.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” Spike laughed back, feeling the ship move almost imperceptibly as the airlock drained its air, opening to admit the newcomers before repressurising in mere moments in an almost textbook example of efficiency.

“Welcome aboard,” he didn’t look round as the trio entered, his hands gripping the flight sticks as the cockpit view screens briefly flared with fire before resolving, giving Spike his first look at the barren world below.

Ice stretched as far as he could see, almost featureless, the landscape utterly dominated by a pair of tall plateau’s rising from the frozen desert that could only be the so-called Ice-Spears that Revan had spoken of. Even from here, Spike could sense the wrongness of this place, echoes of an ancient and powerful energy radiating outwards, even a novice Jedi able to identify the pall of the darkside that engulfed the world. This was not like Exar Kun or Malak however, nor even Revan, but rather more refined, a honed blade to their blunt cudgels.

“That’s new,” Moonstone remarked dryly, her face screwing up in discomfort at the aura they were flying towards.

“New flavour, same shit,” Spike grunted, pulling his helmet on as if such an act would block out the feeling. “Everytime anything happens anywhere in the galaxy, the force has its hands all over it. Jedi, Sith, doesn’t matter, everywhere is infested by it. I wonder if the galaxy will ever be able to just...be free of it, to live in peace without the influence of either sect. Doubt half the galaxy even knows the difference between them anymore.”

“Wow,” Moonstone slowly looked at her empty foreleg in amazement, as if inspecting something there. “It didn’t take you long to go native at all, did it? What’s next, going to take up the bes'bev?”

“I just might,” Spike shot back. “I think I’d play it well.”

“Please, save us from the delusions of dragons,” Moonstone deadpanned, before her face cracked and she broke down in hysterical laughter, it being all Spike could do to not join her, his humour limited to a broad smile beneath his helmet as the ship touched down.

“You have the ship,” he glanced at the three Neo-crusaders briefly, fighting every instinct honed during the war to strike down the armoured figures on his bridge as he strode past them.

Even for one who had strode the void, Spike couldn’t help but shiver as the winds bit into his scales, seeming to pass through his scales and armour as if they weren’t there. For a moment, Spike allowed the wind to fill him, chilling his very bones, before he opened the vents on his helmet, letting out a small burst of fire through the grill-piece, banishing the cold in a puff of sublimated steam.

“I am not sure if you can cheat in survival tactics, but that is definitely cheating,” a familiar voice called out, Spike turning to see Seugtai approaching, Spike throwing his arms wide to embrace the Mandalorian, his father technically, though such a word still felt alien and strange in his mouth.

“It’s like standing next to a plasma coil,” Segutai sighed happily, before finally breaking off the hug and stepping back to look at Spike, his visor obscuring the eyes that Spike was sure were examining every inch of his battleplate.

“Well, I told you to uphold the traditions of my lineage, and you definitely didn’t disappoint,” he nodded approvingly. “Composition?”

“Durasteel and Obsidian,” Spike answered without skipping a beat, drawing a cocked head from Segutai. “With a few auditions from the Temple of Vur Tepe. It will hold up, trust me. Same with the axe.”

Spike held out his weapon, Segutai laughing as he drew out his own near identical axe, save for the bone construction of his blade, and the sheer size of Spike’s new weapon.

“Compensating for something?” Segutain smirked beneath his helmet, taking hold of the weapon with a single hand, before swiftly putting his other hand on it, straining under the weight as Spike let go, a smirk of his own crossing his face.

“A weak mentor?”

“Yeah yeah,” Segutai strained as he proffered the weapon back to Spike, who took it in a single hand with ease. “Show off.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Canderous’s voice cut through the wind, any further response Spike was going to give dying at his arrival.

The Alor was flanked by a pair of hulking Basilisk War Droids, joining Spike’s own mount that had deployed from Harmony shortly after the ship touched down, the pair now standing with it and the three other droids that were already within Ordo’s camp. Once again, Spike found himself amazed that the Clan had managed to keep a single Basilisk intact and active, let alone five, the Republic had placed a high importance on the destruction of such weapons of war. Even a single one could threaten a platoon of lesser troops, six was enough to overwhelm a garrison on any number of backwater or rim worlds.

Segutai began to take a step towards the Alor, before freezing as the figures with Canderous materialised out of the snowstorm. Most were clad in the standard neo-crusader armour, but the last was clad in far lighter armour of Echani make. Blasters hung at both his hips, while a worn backpack sat upon his back, looking every bit the grizzled mercenary that the galaxy at large would see him as. Spike knew better, and so it seems did his father, as a split second later a private comm channel sprung into life in Spike’s helmet.

“Revan?” Segutai hissed, his hand already dropping to his weapons, hovering just above them, ready to draw and launch into combat in an instant if the situation demanded it.

“Yep,” Spike nodded with a hard edged tone. “He came to Canderous while I was away, probably the last man alive who knows where the mask actually is.”

“Explains why Canderous ordered me away from Hyrakral, though if we had a guide we probably could have done this subtly. It’s hard to hide the movement of so many, now we need to contend with the other clans,” Segutai glanced at Canderous as he and Revan strode past.

“Doubt he wants to ascend in secrecy,” Spike shrugged. “He needs to be seen finding the mask, has to be genuine and not some fake for his claim to be taken seriously.”

“I guess. Doesn’t make our job easier though.

As they spoke, other members of Clan Ordo had gathered around their Alor, some Spike knew from his time in the clan’s village, but the vast majority were unknown to him, his helmets systems integrated into the Ordo battlesphere displaying names over the top of the otherwise faceless neo-crusader armour almost every one of them wore, Segutain and Spike the only two in the garb of the far older crusaders, while Canderous wore an armour that seemed to bridge the gap between the two, ensuing the cowled helmet that had become so feared for an almost entirely unadorned piece. This was the first time Spike had seen him in this new war-plate, more used to seeing him in the armour he had worn as a mercenary during the Jedi Civil War, or the true Neo-Crusader armour he had worn before that, but he did not have time to muse on the reasonings behind his Alor’s attire for long, Canderous raising his voice to address the assembled clan.

“Clan Ordo! I am grateful for your swift answer to my summons. I am sure you are all aware of why we are here, yet this is not a fruitless search on hearsay and rumoured hyperlane trails, not this time.”

He stood to one side, allowing the clan to see Revan, gesturing to him as the greatest killer of the Mandalorian people stepped forward without hesitation, his gait betraying nothing but a cocky swagger that could easily have been found on any smuggler, mercenary or bounty hunter across the galaxy.

“This is Avner, a smuggler I’ve had dealings with in the past, running guns for us during the Great War against the Republic. During that time, he used this world as a base of operations, and was here in the wake of our final defeat above Malachor.”

The word seemed to hang in the air for eternity, even as Canderous continued without pause.

“From how Avner tells it, no one had been to this world other than him for years, hence why he used it, and yet mere days after the battle, a single ship landed, just up there,” Canderous pointed towards the summit of the Ice Spear they were clustered around. “Avner, if you will.”

‘Avner’ nodded, stepping forward and adopting a Nar Shaddaa accent as easily as if he had lived there his entire life, the change jarring from the commanding voice Spike knew so well.

“As yer lord says, ain’t nobody ever come to Rekkiad willingly, nor with a purpose that isn’t suspect at best. Ah decided to keep an eye on ‘em, see if they had anything good they were stashing that ah could take once they were gone. Their ship was some fancy Republic shuttle, big enough for a platoon of troopers, but only two stepped out. Ah may try and avoid politics, but even ah knew them; bald and tattoo’d one and another wearing black robes and a mask, same bastards who led the war against you lot, and against the Republic.”

‘Avner’ spat at this before continuing.

“They were carrying something else though, Revan treating it like the greatest prize in the galaxy, another mask, looked like the one that belonged to yer king. Had it with ‘im when he went into the cave up there. Didn’t have it with ‘im when he came back out and when they flew off. I ain’t mad enough to go poking my nose around the business of those two, but ah think that information alone is worth my fee.”

If the mask is up there,” Canderous folded his arms, drawing a scowl from ‘Avner’. Spike was grateful for the helmet that hid his smirk, the pair playing the parts perfectly.

“We’re taking the word of smugglers now?” a voice called out, a woman pushing her way to the front, her helmet removed as she stared daggers at Canderous.

“Veela,” Canderous’s face was obscured behind his own helmet, but Spike was taken aback by the tone in Canderous’s voice, even distorted through his helmet speakers, a sense of longing? Regret? “It is...”

“Don’t say it’s good to see me,” the woman, Veela, replied, her voice as icy as the ground at her feet. “You abandoned the Clan, went off to fight as a gun for hire like that’s all we were after our loss, now you waltz back in and claim rulership and expect us all to just jump to your words and the words of a smuggler?”

“You and I both know that I have gambled far more on far less,” Canderous shot back, the tone in his voice now hardened once more. “I trust Avner’s word enough to search here especially as we weren’t getting anywhere fast on the other worlds we were searching. Any lead is better than no lead, so if you don’t like it, I invite any here to invoke the rule of challenge.”

Canderous paused, looking pointedly at the rest of the clans, his gaze ending on Veela, his visor locking onto her eyes until finally, she turned away just a fraction, averting her gaze from her Alor.

“In that case, prepare to move. Scans show that the tip of the Ice Spear has destabilised with time and the season, we’re not going to be able to land heavy equipment up there, which means we have a climb ahead of us. If you are lucky enough to have a jetpack, or wings,” Canderous glanced at Spike before continuing, “you’re on recon. We move in one hour.”

With that, the crowd began to disperse, Veela taking a moment to look at Canderous and ‘Avner’ before turning and walking away, sliding her helmet into place as she did.

“So that was...clearly something,” Spike mused, glancing down at Segutai. “What’s the story?”

“Between Veela and Canderous?” Seguati asked, before shrugging. “They were married during the war, she stayed behind when he left, after Malachor. She never forgave him. Same story’s probably been told dozens of times across the surviving clans. The loss of the mask fragmented us like nothing else could.”

“Even the great Canderous isn’t above a little loved squabble,” Moonstone laughed, before sighing, a wistful smile on her face. “I wonder if finding the mask will help to quiet those squabbles?”

“Who knows,” Spike turned to face her, opening his mouth to speak more but before he could give voice, his eyes shot wide beneath his helmet, a sense of foreboding and doom lancing into his brain. In the same instant, Spike saw a similar expression written across Moonstone and ‘Avner’s’ face and without thinking turned to dive atop Segutai, throwing up his wings in a protective barrier. Not a moment later, a lancing pain struck Spike, scything through the membranous portion of his wing with ease before bouncing off his helmet, the initial impact having robbed the round of its momentum, though still leaving Spike’s ears ringing, almost missing the whip-crack of the rounds firing and the roar of engines and battle cries.

“For Clan Jendri!”

Spike was moving even before the battle cry had faded, spinning and bringing his gauntlet to bear, Segutai following his lead as the pair unleashed a flurry of shots into the air, only for them to harmlessly impact the underside of a Basilisk War Droid, the mighty war machine howling as it shot overhead, followed by three more of its kin, blazing a trail for close to fifty Mandalorians, all presumably belonging to Clan Jendri. Some of the clan were born aloft upon tongues of fire, swords and pistols ready for imminent combat, while further out more warriors took up positions with rifles, pinning Ordo down with withering volleys of fire.

Spike took in the battle in an instant, yet even that wasn’t quick enough, a glint catching his eye as the light of the sun reflected off a sniper's scope, Spike barely having time to throw himself to the side, the round flattening itself against his thigh plate. The armour held, but from its impact Spike knew the shooter was no novice, having chosen his rounds well.

With a flash, the squashed explosive detonated, Spike hurled through the air and landing heavily on the snow, carving out a deep furrow before finally coming to a halt. The air was alive with blaster bolts and solid slug rounds, Spik hauling himself to cover even as he watched a pair of Clan Ordo warriors cut down, one of them bursting into a flare of rapidly dissipating particles as he was struck with a disruptor round. Grimacing, Spike hauled himself into cover behind a rock, looking at his wing and the fist size hole punched through it. Whatever had made the hole was big, some slug thrower or ripper, bad news either way.

“Canderous!” Spike roared into his helmet, only to be met with the hiss of a jamming signal.

Canderous Moonstone’s voice echoed in his mind, bridging the gap between him and the Alor through the interference.

Spike? Canderous sounded surprised for an instant before recovering. I’m pinned down with fifteen of the clan, what can you see?

Four Basilisks, about fifty Jendri split between rifles and storm troops, they have at least one big gun on the ground too.

Canderous swore in a language that was neither basic nor Mando’a as Spike ducked his head to avoid another barrage of blaster shots and solid slugs.

Revan, Moonstone instinctively threw his mind wider as Spike called out, the voice Spike knew and hated sounding back without hint of surprise by the magical communication.

We can’t just sit here, we’re outnumbered and outgunned on the ground.

No shit Spike growled, wincing as a Basilisk soured overhead, raking the rock he hid behind with pulse-cannon fire. Any bright ideas?

Have you tried shooting the pilots Revan’s tone was dry even across the magical link.

Gee, why didn’t we think of that? Canderous retorted, Spike rolling his eyes before leaning out and unleashing a fusillade of his own, scouring a glancing hit on one of the pilots but doing little more than scuffing the finish of his armour, the majority of the shots impacting the droids heavy armour to no effect.

I can’t get a good angle, and I don’t know how well transforming is going to go in my new armour Spike cursed that he hadn’t thought to test his capabilities before entering a war zone, resolving it to be one of the first things he did once they got out of here. I may be able to get into the air, but with this many enemies... he trailed off.

If you can cause a distraction, I should be able to reach our own droids and see them off Canderous sounded as if he was firing as he spoke, grunting in pain as something presumably hit him.

I can cause a distraction, but the clan probably won’t like it Revan’s voice was low and hard.

Well they can be disgruntled and alive or ignorant and dead Canderous snapped back, Spike feeling Revan’s mind harden and push him out.

Just be ready Spike finished before cutting the connection, looking over to where Revan was taking cover, the ex-Jedi reaching into his backpack, Spike reaching into his own belt-pouch, grasping the hilt of Elusive.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he prepared himself, watching Revan even as he instinctively knew that Revan was watching him. They had to time this just right, act too early...

Revan blurred into motion, Spike joining him as he left over his cover, Elusive flaring into life, its blade almost lost against the storm as Revan’s own paired lightsabers did the same, the green and purple blades a whirling vortex around the man, deflecting blasters that now seemed to have eyes for nothing but the two Jedi in their midst.

Spike couldn’t help but grin under his helmet as he moved to stand by Revan, relishing the opportunity to fight beside the man he had once followed into war despite everything that had happened since. It had been a simpler time, before war had claimed the soul of the Jedi, the Republic and Spike, before Revan’s own fall and everything that had followed. For a glorious moment, Spike felt a peace he hadn’t known for a long time, focusing purely on his bladework, Moonstone beside him as she focused his magic against the worst of the incoming fire.

“Don’t go getting all sentimental now,” Moonstone’s face was screwed up in concentration, the weight of fire, mix of slug, blaster and disintegration rounds and swarming tactics of the enemies taxing even their magic, more used to smaller, more focused applications.

“You’re loving it too,” Spike shot back, drawing a small smile from Moonstone, before he turned his head and shouted, not wishing to risk expending power on another link.

“Canderous! Get in the air and take the droids out!”

The Alor seemed to need no further instruction, bursting from cover as he and his warriors ran towards the Basilisk droids, the mighty war machines firing at the incoming Clan Jendri but seemingly unable to take to the sky without their riders atop them. With Spike and Revan drawing most of the fire they made it through, though even with the distraction, Spike watched a number of them fall, some roaring in agony while others twisted into unnatural angles, sprawling across the ice in a way that made it clear they would never again rise from it.

“Hurry up,” Spike grunted, leaping backwards as a missile streaked towards him, impacting where he had been an instant, the blast buffeting him even as jagged barbs of metal exploded outwards, most impacting off his armour though more than one slashed against his wings.

“Canderous!” Revan roared, but his roar was quickly lost against the roar of six new and terrible steeds taking to the air, Canderous and four of his warriors taking to the air, Spike noting that one of them rode his own war droid, the sixth and final droid little more than a smoking slag pile.

In an instant, the battle took on a new momentum, Clan Jendri suddenly not only contested in the air but outnumbered and outgunned. In a single pass, the five Ordo machines tore into the Jendir fliers, one of them spiralling to the ground in flames.

Sensing the battle had turned, Clan Jendri began to disengage, Spike watching as many of the jetpack equipped Mandalorians shot upwards and twisted away from the Ordo encampment, but Canderous was clearly not in a forgiving mood, spurring his steed onwards as he and his warriors engaged the remaining Basilisks.

For a moment, Spike stood transfixed, watching as Canderous effortlessly piloted the droid, cartwheeling around the enemies fire and delivering pinpoint accurate shots of his own. A blaster bolt impacting with his helmet brought him out of the daze, doing little to his plate but setting his ears ringing. Lightsaber still in one hand, Spike drew his axe in the other and charged, Revan doing the same as they clashed with the retreating Mandalorians.

“Just like old times,” Revan called out, decapitating a Mandalorian Rally Master, before hurling one of his blades at another warrior scrambling to get away.

“Shut up,” Spike growled, even as he admitted once again that it was exactly like that, images of the early days of the Mandalorian Wars filling his mind.

With the Ordo Basilisks in the air and Spike and Revan now on the offensive on the ground, the battle swiftly turned from an ordered withdrawal into a bloody rout, the final guns falling silent mere minutes later. The ground was littered with the dead and wounded of both sides, Ordo showing no mercy to their defeated foes, putting them to the sword with detached efficiency.

“Spike, Avner, go secure the base of the Ice Spear,” Canderous’s voice swam across an open channel. “If Jendri is going to try something, it won’t be long until others get the same idea. We’ll take a smaller party up and move quickly. The rest of you, gather the dead, treat the wounded and maintain battle footing. We will not be caught with our helmets off again.”

“Come on,” Moonstone gestured. “We should probably get going. The less questions we have to answer about...all this,” she gestured around them, “the better, at least while Canderous is still only an Alor.”

“Agreed there,” Spike nodded, putting his hand to his ear. “Segutai?”

“I’m ok,” the Taung’s voice was pained but strong enough. “Clipped me good in the fight, I doubt I’ll be making the climb with you. Just get the bloody thing back, ok?”

“Don’t go pulling anything heroic,” Spike replied, before letting the channel go dead, looking upwards at the Ice Spike stretching away above him and flexing his wings. Magic was already starting to flow into the wounds and he would likely be able to fly on them, but for how long was up for debate.

With a grunt, Spike beat his wings, beginning the task of scouting a way up the sheer ice face as Canderous and Revan began to climb, leaving the rest of the Clan at the bottom to tend the wounded. Even from this distance, Spike could feel eyes boring into him from below, already preparing himself for what he feared would arise when he returned to the ground.

Author's Note:

To everyone who voted in the recent poll, and just in general to everyone who has stuck around and gives this chapter a read, thank you. From the bottom of my heart it means the world to me that there are still people interested in what I put out, and in the fandom stil in general. Each and every one of you are utterly utterly awesome, and while I doubt I will be as quick as I used to be in putting out chapters, I will try to never let my absences get to the ridiculous levels that did in the last few years.

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