Madoc

Captain Fisher agreed to the demands of restitution for killing the necromancer, curse, and or rogue god. He was paying them in corpo chits, which had been met with plenty of grousing. The corporate money could only be spent at other corporations inside of the same trade bloc. It made life more difficult if anyone wanted to cash out on their reward, but it was all the Captain had available. Madoc didn’t care that much, he needed money to buy another ticket and this would work.

Gom assembled the party at a lower deck, flush with the ground. The crew had only opened up one of the emergency exits, so this one wasn’t swarmed with hungering undead trying to get in like the primary one was. Gom and his two fellows, Nobbs and the Argentum Elf maid, who’s name was Ilyria. The three of them were leaning against the sealed door, calme and ready.

Sir Huntley had been bullied into accompanying them along with the incognito Lloyd Braxt and two of the other human guards. The old dwarf was sleeping sitting down against a bulkhead, a plain silver axe laying across his lap. Nobody bothered him even though his snores filled the small hall.

Four goblins dressed in security uniforms were standing by the door, their long mag rifles slung across their backs. They spoke in their native tongue, not bothering to use their translators as they hissed and spat at one another while pointing frequently with their sharp black talons. For beings the size of a prepubescent child, Madoc found them to be intimidating. He thought it had to do with their jagged teeth and hungry gazes. Something about it spoke of a history not long past, when goblins referred to everything as meat.

Sam and Madoc were the last of the kill team. Sam’s large warhammer was resting on the ground while the bulky redhead skimmed through a tablet, humming to himself. Madoc was doing his best not to vomit all over the deck. The fighting earlier had come in such a rush and with no time to contemplate what was going to happen that he had just snapped into action. Years of training took over as he protected himself and used his abilities to the best of his knowledge. Now though, waiting patiently for Captain Fisher to come down and give them the go ahead? He was anxious and had already drawn more than one irate stare because of his nervous pacing.

“Boyo, you need to relax, you're making it hard to nap,” the old dwarf finally spoke, his snores ending so abruptly that Madoc thought they had to have been manufactured. Gom looked over and smiled his toothy grin while the rest of the party just glared at them. It seemed nobody wanted to be on the dwarfs bad side, and Madoc’s pacing had inadvertently toed the line.

Captain Fisher arrived in a huff, appearing between doorways in a blur as he moved toward the sealed hatch. The man looked tired, his eyes ringed in deep shadow, his hair limp to his head, skin sallow. He turned to them, his back to the door and some of the iron discipline returned as he took a breath, reinflating before their very eyes.

“We will open this door and I will provide you with a tunnel. Stay inside of the tunnel. It’ll get you to the edge of the forest, after that it’s up to you. We will be resealing this door after you leave. If you can, please see if you can confirm the loss of the scouting team,” Fisher said it all in a rush, eyes glazing over as he started to breath in rhythm.

Everyone recognized what he was doing, drawing in aether in preparation for a large scale working. Madoc knew the man was nearing his limits, so to feel the amount of rushing aether filling the man and not leaking out was concerning. The Captain needed to be alive if they were to be paid after all. Blowing oneself up from overdrawing aether wasn’t unheard of either.

“You heard the man. Up and at em. Ilyria and Nobbs will be the vanguard. Old timer will protect the rear, everyone else, don’t stray,” Gom gave his orders as he straightened out his robes, preparing for his own part in the mad dash that was to occur. None of us could hear the undead outside, they made no noise after all, but we had seen them. Some of the outer cameras had survived re-entry and we had found the closest hatch that faced where Nobbs had indicated the creatures had come from. It was absolutley surrounded by the leathery undead.

Ilyria checked the short sword on her hip, the glow of ther metal brightening the room enough that the goblins hissed in annoyance. Sir Huntley pulled out a baton that he clicked to expand into a stabbing spear. The other human guards pulled similar weapons out while also having swords on their belts. Sam just reached over and plucked his hammer off of the deck. Madoc checked that his sword was strapped tightly to his belt, afraid that it might fall off when he began to sprint.

“Now,” Fisher whispered, the strain evident in his voice. One of the goblins touched a button and the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Madoc caught a glimpse of the area around the crash site. Shoulder to shoulder with still figures, not a single one of them moving as they stood in a packed mass just watching the ship. As one, their empty eye sockets turned to look at the now open door. Fisher strode up, a burning ball of fire floating inches from his hand.

He snapped his arm out and the incandescent ball of flame floated lazily away from him and into the center of the mass of zombies. They were starting to stir, beginning to move as one toward the open doorway. Madoc watched that floating ball of heat. A zombie accidently brushed against it and simply puffed away into a cloud of ash. Fisher had powerful concepts of heat, undoubtedly, if he could conjure something like that in mere moments. Fisher snapped his finger and all hell broke loose.

The ball expanded, shoving outward in every direction, burning as it went. Still the creatures made no noise as they were disintegrated. A covered tunnel emerged as the sphere stretched out and out, hollowing itself in the process. Ilyria and Nobbs wasted no time, leaping out of the ship and racing down the newly formed tunnel without a word. Madoc followed behind them, eager to finally move and do something rather than waiting.

Sam was only a step behind, the larger man keeping pace with Madoc easily. The tunnel was cool and dry, like an ice rink. There was little moisture and no heat inside of it, the ground soft under their boots. It was terrifying to think that only a foot in either direction was a heat strong enough to disintegrate. The tunnel ended quickly, Madoc chewing up the ground to the jungle in seconds. He glanced back to see Captain Fisher standing resolute in the doorframe, his face blooless and sweat slicked, his outstrtched hand trembling as he struggled to keep the tunnel from collapsing.

“Keep moving, the Captain knows what he’s doing,” Sam said as he overtook Madoc, bounding into the dense foilage. Madoc followed his advice, looking away from the straining Captain and started to push into the jungle. The wet humidity appeared between one step and the next like a wet blanket slapped his whole body. Madoc reached down to grab the pommel of his sword, tightening his grip as he followed Sam’s broad back.

“Definitely space involved in that, heat and space,” Gom said behind them, barely loud enough to be heard.

The undead were in the trees and brush, but in scattered ones and twos. They didn’t bother to stop and fight them, simply shoving them out of the way and continuing after Ilyria and Nobbs. The goblins kept pace with the taller people, their gray and green skin allowing them to blend well with their surroundings as they slid in and out of the brush to the sides. Gom and the unnamed dwarf were unbothered by the taller people’s pace. In truth the one struggling the most was Lloyd Braxt, huffing and puffing beet red as he sloppily trudged through the underbrush.

This wasn’t a mission of stealth, which Madoc was glad for. They would have failed instantly as Lloyd seemed to try to alert the whole planet what they were up to as he cursed soundly as he bounced his way off of trees. Madoc paid attention to the young noble, to the aether flowing invisibly around him like a shroud. Like Madoc, Lloyd didn’t have a core, or if he did, it was horribly inefficient. The boy was sucking in aether with every breath, using it to strengthen his body to keep pace. That type of rapid apsecting was exhausting and couldn’t be kept up for long without repercussions. It was only the first level of cultivation.

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Madoc cursed the weak willed guards who had allowed the brash young noble along. The boy had no place out here, but his ranting and raving had been enough to finally defeat the obstinate guards willpower. That or greed of possibly finding something on the planet that could further their own personal cultivation. The way the men’s eyes were sweeping about with hunger, Madoc assumed it was the second option. The remnants of a Divine War battlefield could have treasures aplenty that would fuel rapid cultivation growth. If they didn't kill you. Or worse.

Madoc turned his attention away from the knights and back Sam’s broad back as he wove in and out of trees with an unearthly grace. He was monstrously sized, big as a mountain, yet was moving like the breeze. He was definitely further advance in his own cultivation than Madoc could be, but just how far? In the fighting earlier he hadn’t seemed to be able to do much more than he let on, which was Madoc’s upper limits as well. So how was he moving with such speed and grace?

Something else Madoc had to shelve, as three zombies burst out of the foliage. They were different from the ones from before. The ones surrounding the ship were dried out corpses with leathery skin. They were literal skin and bones animated by aether. These one’s on the other hand, still had the hints of the life they had lived. Clothes, tattered but still there clung to them in rags. Their skin still had some hints of vitality, having not been completely drained of moisture. Eyes, clouded and white, scratched all over but still in their sockets. Dirty nails coated in black dirt and dried blood reaching out in grasping claws. All of this, he saw in a moment.

His sword was out instantly, singing as it split the air and cut the closest one from hip to shoulder. Madoc found out these ones were a bit tougher too, remnants of muscle and ligaments needing to cut through. His sword was supernatural though and he bisected the creature in half with a grunt of effort. Aether roared through the sword and into him, much more than what the others had contained.

Madoc continued to attack, bringing the sword back down in a powerful two handed blow that dug into the skull of the second zombie. It’s skull split and black sludge rolled out of the wound in a weeping pulse as it’s body went limp and collapsed towards the earth. With his sword still wedged in the skull. Madoc was forced to leave the blade; jumping backward as the final zombie swung with its dirty nails, raking the air where his face had just been.

Using aether without his blade was difficult and would remain so until his wings emerged. He could still do it though. A dagger of ice formed in his hand and he lunged forward, into the waiting grasp of the zombie. The dagger struck true, piercing it’s eye with a squelch and releasing more black goop, this time all over Madoc’s hand and arm. The creature died, but no rush of aether followed. The runes on his blades harvested aether much better than he could himself.

“You good?” Sam called back, having barely stopped his trot to watch as Madoc dismantled them. It had taken all of a few seconds to draw his blade, dispatch two of them, conjure the ice dagger and kill the final one. Madoc pulled his sword free, wiping it on the zombies dirty clothes until it was marginally clean.

“Yeah I’m good. Let’s go.” The line had kept going while he cleaned his blade, Sam waiting patiently. They had gone from being the first in the line after Ilyria and Nobbs, to being in the back with the old timer. Who, now that he thought of it, Madoc didn’t know his name.

The old dwarf was trotting with an unhurried appearance, as if this was all far beneath him. With how the others were acting, it actually might be beneath him. There were plenty of stories of old masters just traipsing around bored. Or having made a series of poor financial decisions, poor and needing money.

“Good work with those puppets. You’re quick,” the old timer said as he waited for the boys to start up jogging in front of him. He took being the rearguard somewhat seriously. The crescent bladed axe rested on his shoulder easily as he lazily followed them, little effort needed to keep pace.

“Thank you,” Madoc said, deciding there was no harm in being polite.

“What the fucks wrong with you. I can smell what you are. Where’s the wings?” the old timer decided to spit on being polite and point out what was very much a sore subject.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m out here. Trying to figure out why they won’t appear.”

“Perception is a tricky thing. You’ll figure it out if you think about it. Can’t let you have too easy of a time. Journey being greater than the destination and all that.”

“Wait…you know what’s wrong with me?” Madoc couldn’t believe that this old dwarf was telling him that he knew what was wrong with him when no one could have. It seemed like a cruel prank, and then to say he wouldn’t tell him. Crueller still.

“Oh, no. Not what’s wrong with you per se. Nothings wrong with you, you’re just not perceiving yourself correctly,” the dwarf said, making no sense at all to Madoc.

The headache and distraction not worth the line of questioning, Madoc decided to let it drop. Dwarves were well known for their stubborn nature as a people and the old ones were even worse. If the old timer didn’t feel like telling him what was wrong, nothing would make him say it.

Ilyria stepped out of a tree in front of them and Madoc nearly had a heart attack as his sword leapt to his hand. At least he got to watch as Sam leapt nearly three feet off the ground and a startled shriek started to emerge before he throttled it. The old timer didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

“We are approaching where we lost contact with the scout team. Crook-Tooth is requesting we stop and investigate,” Ilyria voice was husky and low, deeper than expected but soothing. The old timer just nodded, nonchalant about the jungle filled with undead.

“No problem for me. Is my charge being too much of a headache?” Madoc had forgotten that he was part of Lloyd’s protection detail.

“They’re loud and poorly trained,” Ilyria said while a single eyebrow raised just the faintest degree. The dwarf laughed, deep belly rolling laugh, and the sound dind’t travel more than a foot in any direction beyond them, rebounding back toward them.

“You caught that then. Well, we old timers like to have our little jokes here and there. I’ll keep em safe.”

“Of course.” Ilyria bowed her head and stepped back into the tree and disappeared.

“What’s up with them stepping in and out of things. Nobbs with shadows and her with trees?” Madoc asked toward Sam. He hoped the old timer would actually respond, but didn’t want to interrupt him and his obvious good mood.

“I don’t know man. I just hit things with my hammer.” Sam patted said hammer while suspiciously eyeing all the nearby trees and the shadows they cast. Madoc re-sheathed his sword and followed the tail end of the group as the started to collect where the scout team had been lost.

It wasn’t any different from the rest of the jungle. Trees, ferns, vines, undead monsters. Fairly standard for the planet. There was battle damage here and there, though no sign of the actual team. One of the goblins, possibly Crook-Tooth, turned up a long curved bronze dagger and shook their head slowly. The other three goblins offered up sorrowful howls as they closed ranks, ignoring the voracious undead for a moment.

Sir Huntley and his knights fought with mechanical precision. Their spear work was impeccable, each blow killing one of the undead with no wasted motion. There was a lack of finesse about them though, as if they were just going through the motions. Madoc had a hard time figuring out what it was he saw as he maneuvered through the trees, fighting two of the more recent undead. These one’s still had hair and their eyes were sort of working.

One was a large orc seven feet of rotting muscle with a black mane of hair filled with twigs and leaves. One of his tusks had been broken off, and the black goop leaked out of a punctured ear. The other was another human body, like most of them had been. They did the same moves the others did, just faster and with more vigor. It took Madoc two swings to decapitate the orc, and the human undead actually attempted to dodge the blow that took its head. It was much too slow, but still, Madoc wasn’t liking that they were starting to not just shamble into their blades.

“These one’s have more aether than the ones by the ship!” Madoc called out, hoping that the others had noticed. If they kept getting stronger and healthier the closer they got to their source, they would rapidly turn from an annoyance into a genuine threat.

“It’s good for your growth to be challenged,” Gom said, standing in the middle of the formation and not participating in any way, shape, or form. Madoc sighed as another trio of zombies burst through the brush and headed his way.