The city lies to itself.
I have traveled across the entirety of the New Vultun Special Administrative Suzerainty three times in total during my service. I have seen many things and encountered many obstacles of evident and unnatural categories.
A thing to note for all operatives is that you cannot view the city as a straight path. Going from one place to another is a determinant scenario. It’s determined by if any warheads are in play between the Guilds or their Syndicates during the day. You must also worry about the effects of any stray Heavens leaking over into foundational reality itself–I lost half my drones once attempting to look upward in an Ashthrone district.
This resulted in an unsecured Hell releasing its entropic feedback and hyper charging the air friction around me.
Much of this is to say that you must consider and develop adaptable routes. I recommend using local contacts in each district for safety. It is essential to know which boundaries are geometrically, spatially, or just thaumaturgically affected in general.
Presently, New Vultun is split over forty-five thousand fatality-procurement distribution sites. Over two thousand different major sovereignties make up the governing pillars overlooking these zones, so be sure to familiarize yourself with which Guilds have the most vested claims in the area, and what Heavens they might be able to deploy.
Above all else, be aware.
Awareness is the key to your operational success and survival. Employ all means of internal and vetted external assets to ensure your comprehension of the locality and preparation for any event.
If you are the first to be acquired or engage an adversary without properly understanding what they are, the outcome is rarely certain.
And from my encounters, I must stress that the cessation of one’s consciousness is a lesser torment in the face of other ends I’ve seen befall certain former companions.
-Sunrise, Operative of Aegis (Voidwatch)
14-16
How to Win Friends and Murder People (II)
Among the greatest boons the subminds granted was a passive awareness of information. From all the minds he consumed came new branches of memory, and with each extension of their segments did his base of knowledge swell.
More than just this, they allowed him to understand matters better–to assemble pieces of infromation where he would be been just blind before.
[Pendross’ Ravine was born of a fruitless struggle,] said a submind channeling a myriad of templates. [Clenched between two other districts at war, the urban sprawl had the look of a basin when viewed from on high. To its north rose a grand tsunami of insects caked in living flesh, with eyes sprouting from enamel stalks glaring unceasingly at the uneven teeth-like mountains stacked far southward. Strong winds unnaturally funneled all things capable of motion through the passage of the miraculous edifices, serving as a checkpoint for most to contend.]
More details loaded into Avo’s consciousness, and the history of this place unraveled before him. Distant vicarities and past mem-sims expanded through is cog-feed. Festering bones raining down from cancerous sores swallowing entire patches of sky warred with towering icons of wood and storm. The horizon was bathed in endless light, the bombardment of atomics endless and constant.
There were wars here even before the fourth great clash between the Guilds. A war to settle who would control which piece of the Tiers, and what portion of deaths flow to which master.
For years, the districts of Yuan Feng and Kag-Kraelin pressed against each other, Sainist and Massist forces fighting and bleeding and dying by the thousands across the minutes. Countless No-Dragon bioforms once littered the ground here, as did Scaarthians enduring the trials of their adolescence–most of them never surviving to reach the ascent of motherhood.
Then, just before the time of the Third Guild War, a failed coup left the No-Dragons reeling on the cusp of victory after years of bioform-wrought attrition, plague, and bombardment left Stormtree’s local detachments decimated, Highflame stole the moment from their own ally and claimed the area as their own.
What followed thereafter was equally a farce. Gullivan Pendross, noted Chivalric and Authority of Highflame, was found dead a few months later, having apparently contracted a suspiciously rare and undetected prion that caused his final cessation in the midst of combat when the Third Great War began.
Also interestingly were the claims that the No-Dragons were unable to receive any communications when the fighting began, arriving only as Highflame’s knots were on the verge of collapse to offer their support.
On the Massist side, Ashthrone and Sanctus, both seeking to curry more support and favor from Ori-Thaum, rushed to punch through Highflame’s wanting defenses. Unfortunately, they decided to do this as an act of “mutually agreed proactivity,” and thus didn’t alert Stormtree of their assault.
Thus came the battle that numerous Proparazzi heralded as “Shame in the Basin,” with decimated Highflame units bolstered far too late by No-Dragon forces to mount a meaningful defense, and the last of Stormtree’s local Bloodthanes engaging in brutal ally-on-ally combat and rending the Massist unable to fully take advantage of any breakthroughs.
By the end, Pendross’ Ravine remained split sixty-forty between the Saintists and Massist, and those that stayed past the conclusion of hostilities established strange bedfellows even among former enemies.
Down the middle of the city, the Highflame-owned enterprises were tethered together as a continuous chain against the messy smattering of Ashthrone and Sanctus businesses. Around the perimeter, however, there was no shortage of Sang-Scaarthian joint-owned structures, forming an encirclement of ire that pressed the Golds, Blues, and Grays against each other.
It was also why Avo didn’t find himself all that surprised when a series of nuclear blastwaves ballooned over the horizon and carpeted his destination in suppressive devastation.
The aero’s systems wailed warnings as skies seemed to tremor and shake. The Harshlander’s sensors spewed an avalanche of mem-data while phantoms portrayed a full-spectrum detection grid of all that was happening around them.
It was a testament to Stormtree’s design that the vehicle barely groaned as the first whiplash of turbulence ran through it, but where it could contend with the disruption inflicted by coldtech, there were also stray miracles in the air and sky above the afflicted blocks boomed with mind-burrowing warnings.
+ATTENTION: COUNTER-MIRACLES ARE ACTIVE
ALL VEHICLES APPROACHING BLOCK C-4 ARE TO HALT AND RETURN TO THEIR POINT OF ORIGIN. THE AIRSPACE HAS BEEN VECTOR-LOCKED. ALL PHYSICAL ENTITIES WITHOUT PROPER FATE CLEARANCE WILL HAVE THEIR ACCELERATION DETACHED FROM THEIR ONTOLOGIES AND BE SUBJECT TO DETAINMENT UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF HIGHFLAME.
WE REPEAT. HALT, AND RETURN TO YOUR POINT OF ORIGIN.
A BLOCK WAR IS IN PROGRESS.+
“Looks like our ‘nearby’ option is a bust,” Reva deadpanned as she took a drink of honey-scented liquor. Avo glanced at the bottle briefly and studied the name under its mem-con-infused label. Ursa-Rager: Let the bear roam. A phantom manifested as a massive brown-furred bear pouring scalding honey down its throat and burping. “Where’s the next nearest dead-drop?”
The inside of the aero shook again, but the auto-grav security systems ensured absolute stability for the inhabitants. FATED didn’t need to concern themselves with gimbals or the like.
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“This one’s still fine,” Avo replied. “Maybe even better. Guilder assets distracted with each other. Won’t be looking at us when we go in. Can get to what we want while Ashthrone and Sanctus are raiding.”
The Bloodthane fixed him with a flat stare and frowned. “Listen, I understand you don’t care much about Guild etiquette and all that, but right now the powers are in the thick of it. You’re not marching into some Syndicate’s backdoor. There are Heavens active–a twenty-mile thaumaturgic perimeter is in place and draining all the force out of all movement vectors. Those nukes are going off air-burst style because they can’t get close. And neither can–”
“I will open the path,” Avo responded. But his new “friend” was so depressing. Zein would have hated this one. Can’t. Won’t. Guild rules. Limitations.
This wasn’t the voice of a Godclad, but the worried complaints of a street squire.
[Probably cause she used to be one,] Abrel chimed. She scanned the Bloodthane and chuckled. [Not bad. But not bad doesn’t light the wick. You see all that tension in the way she’s siting, and how her shoulder’s tight like that? Her body is still used to drawing on her muscle instead of just using her Heaven. Not to put insult our esteemed opposition or anything, but there’s a reason why training a ‘Clad early makes them better at scraping than just elevating a hardened killer. A lifetime of proper habits and instincts is hard to make up for.]
+Didn’t they snuff one of your cadre?+ Avo asked.
[Yeah. But we were chasing you, and didn’t expect to smash head-first into a couple of Stormtree Bloodthanes backed by high-end golems. Highflame golems, come to think of it…]
Curious indeed, but something to discover later. Right now, he needed a way to get into the block, lest they suffer a six-hundred-mile excursion to the next closest cache.
[Can’t approach conventionally. Nether is still accessible.] The Subminds hummed in contemplation.
[Not for long. We remember to block wars. Thoughtwave Detonations will follow soon. Will be suicide if we enter directly.]
[Detonation must come from somewhere though. Will need active Necros attacking and defending. Jocks too. Hm. Jocks. Some nukes have loci in them. Mix of coldtech targeting and jocking. Could be our entry point. Burn through one of the jocks. Eat through their systems.]
[Could be. Risk of exposure?]
[Present. Should shift ourselves over and use Incog if at risk of discovery.]
[Yes. Will need to be in range to use our Sanguinity. Twelve miles gives options. But reaching blindly is dangerous. Should overlap with nukes on approach Intercept before they get stopped by the defensive perimeter.]
One of his subminds scoffed in disgust. [Defensive perimeter. Remember the block wars of our youth? Just relied on memite. Block’s already indestructible. What’s the point of this Rend-waste.]
[Prevention of continued suppression probably. And opening for counterattacks.]
His path forward cleared and understood what needed to follow.
“Can you turn the aero’s Phys-Sim on the trajectory of the warheads?” Avo asked. “Get us within twelve miles if possible.”
A ghost undulated out from White-Rab into the aero’s locus without delay.
This brought a smile to Avo’s face. “Thank you. Glad I don’t need to burn Reva’s aero with my mind. It’s nice transport.”
White-Rab chuckled. +No, consang, we definitely don’t want that.+
Reva’s eyes narrowed evermore. “Consang.”
A pause took hold of the other Necro’s accretion. +What?+
“Nothing.” Reva shook her head. “I’m just happy to see you connecting with someone. I don’t think you’ve ever been this willing to socialize with… anyone.”
In the depths of Avo’s consciousness, Abrel let out a breath of excitement. [She's jealous. Jealous of you. Oh, this is fucking fantastic. This shit is tastier than Nether gossip. Tell White-Rab you feel like you two have a “connection.” I want to see how much more the Bloodthane sow can squint. Her eyes are going to be shitting pearls soon.]
Though it was tempting, Avo didn’t taunt the Bloodthane further. Instead, he diverted his attention into expanding his Sanguinity’s Reign to its maximum baseline broadcast radius without fully manifesting his Woundshaper.
All around him were patterns. Patterns of the physical. Patterns of the material. Patterns of static and electricity and light and biology. Patterns that his Heaven could touch, imbibe, and manipulate as it mantled itself over fundamental aspects of reality.
Aeros and drones ran beneath his eldritch senses, and within his Frame, he felt his Woundshaper shudder. “Imagine, master. Imagine just clenching your fist. Just reaching down into the city and clenching. How many thousands of lives could we carry away with us? How much greater could we be.”
Again, the temptations were all around him, but such a thing struck him as something he could do once and never again. It was also a distraction from his true intent. He needed to use his haemokinesis as a conduit again, and he needed to touch a passing nuclear delivery system.
The phantasmal grid playing between him and Reva showed arcing trails and estimated accelerations. The nukes were being fired from the low stratosphere in batches of twelve and were each screened by a swarm of fifty expendable drones.
[More jackpoints.]
[Indeed]
This made things easier for him. They didn’t even need to approach the block directly, though all the current impact vectors were still a mile or two beyond his reach…
[Don’t need to overlap our Sanguinity. We can use more meticulous methods. Form haemokinetic shrapnel. Burn Auto-Seances into them. Fling them into the sky.]
[Yes. Maybe still too wasteful. Could pour most of our ego over into a construct. Boltstride using it.]
[Effective. But loud. Obvious. Also puts us at direct risk of disruption if it happens.]
[Hm. Shrapnel.]
[Shrapnel.]
It took less than a thought for him to harden ten thousand tiny flechettes in the air twelve miles beyond the aerovec. He stopped as he began to feel slightly lightheaded, seeing that he was presently drawing from himself than converting any external mass. His subminds made shaping and controlling all the constructs even more convenient, and his Sanguinity allowed him a direct connection to infuse the once unlit constructs with the necessary dosages of ghosts.
“What are you–” Reva’s words were cut off as Avo’s cognition flared, and every last diminutive mote of blood sparked like struck flint as he poured parts of his mind into them. Blazing ghosts rode out like a tumbling wildfire, and ten thousand thoughtcasts were tethered to ten thousand shards.
[Arranging cognitive inventory.]
Avo took a moment to enjoy his feat. Previously, he had neither the ghosts nor the mental processing power to achieve such a thing. Now, with each ghost he consumed, his mind expanded, and his ability to think and learn and become expanded.
Weight was no longer his enemy. Gluttony was now, at best, a lesser vice.
The grid before him flashed as new icons entered its radius. Dipping a Whisper across his outermost shards, Avo peeked at the newest falling barrage of warheads let and simulated his own calculations. Triggering his personal Phys-Sim, he aimed a salvo of his own, and when the estimates loaded place and the lanes turned red, he flung his blades out with a flick of will to pierce his adversary in mind and matter both.
The air rippled with force. Outward sailed Avo’s traveling fangs. Outward they would bite and bury, the ones that missed slated to be released from the presence of his Heaven, while those that impacted would serve as his insertion points.
There was much to consider about unleashing an attack across vast distances. The numbers didn’t lie, but physics was a capricious entity. New blastwaves folded the air and shook forty percent of his initial constructs off course. He anticipated this possibility, but quantity had quality all its own, and blood worked like birdshot–spreading wide and piercing shallow.
Of the ten thousand needles he cast out, only three hundred sank into the warping embrace of foreign alloys, and of those, only eleven remained after one of the warheads he targeted was intercepted by an unanticipated missile.
Success, in the end, came in the form of a passing drone that took one of his shots straight through its chassis. Immediately upon detecting the impact, he activated one of his few remaining Auto-Seance sessions and directed his perception through the other side. It took less than a second for him to identify the presence of the drone’s locus, and by the end of said second, he was already threading his Conflagration into the drone’s cognitive structure and incinerating all that could burn within.
Roaring down the scant memories forming the connective tissue between the drone and its jock, Avo’s consciousness went off like a firebomb, and the lobby from where the attacks conducted their offense reacted as wood would to his presence.
All came alight.
All came aflame.
All became him.
There was no anticipation, no retaliation, no chance to respond.
Avo spread through the lobby of the attackers, and across the city, thousands began to twist and writhe upon their jacking stations as the flames blessed them with a final seizure.
They might’ve begun the day thinking this was going to be a prolonged raid, but Avo really didn’t have the inclination to be delayed.
This block war was going to be done, whether these “players” wanted it or not.
And when he was done, he’d just pin the blame on Highflame.
It wouldn’t be that hard to have White-Rab fabricate a stray memory or sequence left behind, after all.