Siege on the Faction of the Mind
Hendrick stood unmoving, surrounded by likewise still ranks. The absence of uncomfortable shifting, checking of straps, or other nervous ticks was thanks to the Warmaster. The Warmaster had a plethora of achievements under his belt, almost all of them came from his ability to organize and use an armed force.
The SPM stood in a circle, an unmoving brown coral. The resources that went into acquiring all their matching uniforms was immense. To get it on such short notice, was even more so. However, the Warmaster demanded it, and all twelve of the races contributed to its cost.
In the middle of the unified force was a city. If not for the sudden change in opacity, or the visible circle around it, you would think it was Atlantis. This was the Faction of the Mind’s city: Cortex. The pocketed and swirling coral resembled its namesake. Two towers stood opposite one another over the wall, looming over the two armies beneath them. The invasive brown stood opposite the lively pink, and the Orthodox that protected it.
The Start Protection Militia was not surprised at the much smaller army standing defiantly against them. The Orthodox may seem divided by their factions, they may keep secrets, but they were fiercely loyal. Their pride in their race, their respect to tradition, and their belief of Inter Pares, was what earned them their name.
Granted, in their language it was different, but the Reforms —pushy that they are— insisted that the Latin was a necessity. When the Primus gathered, they decided they not only greatly approved of the Latin meaning, but also of the background. Hence, they adopted the Latin, and the Reform’s Orthodox culture. The Primus —their original names lost in time— further became unified at that time. This unification was evident in the Orthodox arrayed against the SPM.
Hendrick thought all of this as he was restrained to his position. He could not do much else with the Warmaster’s control. Well, he could try to change his breathing pattern, but he had no doubt the Warmaster or one in his chain of command would notice.
Having joined the SPM for glory, levels, and out of fear, Hendrick did not have much of a choice of whether or not he wanted to obey the Warmaster. In his contract, observed by the Guild and monitored by the twelve races, it specifically mentioned his obedience. Perhaps obedience was not the proper term, Hendrick thought, it would be more accurate to call it acceptance. The soldier needed to accept the Warmaster’s influence to be controlled by him. Had the Warmaster attempted to influence the opposing army, he would have been unsuccessful.
One downside of the Warmaster’s ability is that the members of the army —technically marines now that they were underwater— could not be updated. The Warmaster would understand the inner workings of the battle, but the individual would not. This was all to say, Hendrick did not know what the cause of the cease fire was. According to his briefing, the operation should have started without a single soldier pausing. The whole idea was a concept the Warmaster labeled as a Blitzsieg. Yet, the vanguard had stopped mere feet from the Orthodox line.
The opposing force parted down the middle. A previously unseen gate opened, revealing the multicolored buildings within Cortex. Three women walked out of the surreal city, the gate closing so perfectly behind them that not even a line was seen. It looked like two were Reforms, and one was Orthodox. Hendrick couldn’t tell from his vantage point, but the one at the front seemed to be ignoring the two following behind her. As she left the bubble, her black hair billowing in the water, she didn’t flinch. The two followed, before the Reform turned around. She said something to them. The other Reform said something. The first replied. The Orthodox said something to the two Reforms. Both nodded.
The first Reform walked forward, the other two women stepped back into the bubble. Likewise, the SPM parted, and an old grey-haired gentleman walked between them. Hanz Kühn, the Warmaster, decided to meet the woman himself. Two figures stood opposite one another in No Man’s Land. Their conversation was soon projected to all sapients in the area.
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“It looks like it’s headed towards the ground.”
How long?
“I’d say about ten seconds and it will land.”
Sector?
“The one with the U-shaped bend in the river.”
Twenty-seven, got it.
“There is doubt in my mind that you made that number up Sen.”
Focus. How close?
“Three. Two. It should have just landed.”
I sense it. It was actually sector twenty-eight.
“I don’t know, it looks like sector twenty-nine to me.”
A fair observation, but I assure you it is sector twenty-eight.
“Do you have a net there?”
No.
“So odds are, this landing will be another bust?”
Your positivity is astounding. But yes.
“Let me know when you make your attempt,” Yuclaus replied to the leaves nearby. Reclining on a lumbar supported plush vine chair —now with arm cradling technology— our protagonist looked down on the forest from on high. A tangle of vines decorated the tree that he made his observation deck. Sadly, he had no beverage to accompany his gorgeous view of the mystical forest. Canopies of all shades of the rainbow could be seen, causing Yuclaus to mentally call this forest the Painted Forest. Not original, but true. One glaring absence that Cause never noted, were the mysterious pink trees near the Environ’s territory. Of the ephemeral trees, there was no trace.
For once in their expedition, Isencia was hunting down the creature, while Yuclaus got to be the guy in the chair. This was not because Isencia had a change of heart, nor because Yuclaus mentioned anything. No, it was purely practical. Their current prey, a large hawk with no outstanding characteristics, was difficult for Isencia to sense. No plant she knew of could reach into the sky and sense the movement of flying bodies.
Hence, they marked an area with designated sectors. There were roughly fifty odd sectors, but none of them were named. Instead, the largest landmark was the namesake of each region. While “U-bend sector” and “metal-leaved tree sector” were not the most creative nor concise terms, they did not have time for better naming schemes. The sooner they leave the forest, the better.
There was an undercurrent of urgency in the past week. Initially, the plan was for Yuclaus to test his abilities mildly, before they would stop and finish their journey to the elevator without it. As we have seen in recent cha— ahem, actions, this plan was gently swept ever so lovingly under the rug. The pursuit of unique abilities and the need for power against their pursuers was far too alluring.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
The dilemma with simply pushing something under a rug, was that it sometimes got tripped on. The passerby remembered with startling suddenness as they plummeted face first towards the ground. The knowledge that they were less than a week from the edge of the forest, was one such remembrance.
Though neither stated it, the unspoken consensus was that they would sacrifice location for a tool they desperately needed: a way to move through open land discreetly. They were already surprised that no unsavory folk had greeted them yet; they were not foolish enough to believe the trend would continue.
Therefore, they were attempting to gather wisps for disguises, discreet traveling, or to modify the senses before leaving the forest. They decided exiting the forest was a priority, despite Isencia’s misgivings about leaving it for the first time in her life. First, they had to acquire useful wisps before they could truly go incognito. The Goat Wisp was unhelpful in that regard.
And so we return to the operation at hand. What better method would there be to reach the elevator, than to fly? High enough that the traveler would believe them to be one with the background, not garnering much attention. Fast enough to evade their pursuers. Elegant enough to not require Yuclaus being carried as a backpack. Speaking of backpack, I’m fairly certain Yuclaus lost it a while ago. It was empty of anything beside a flask, pen, and sentiment, so it was not a large loss.
In order to capture the hawk to… harvest —following EDA regulations obviously— the two companions needed to wait for it to land. Yuclaus did make an argument for Sen to “snipe it out of the air” but it was summarily shot down. Heh. I don’t believe I need to explain why such an idea was met with ridicule.
Yuclaus would call out when the hawk was a moment from landing. In turn, Isencia would discern the most recent vibration on the earth —or plants should the hawk decide to alight upon one— and assume that it was the hawk. They attempted using just vibrations, but after capturing a six-legged hairless abomination, a travelling plant, and a large worm that was not NB, they decided they needed an alternate method. The method was provided by Yuclaus, seeking to redeem himself.
Sadly, as we will soon discover, Isencia is not omnipotent. She can only spread her net of vines so far, there were bound to be holes. The best they could do was to stagger which sector had a complete net, then stall for time as the nearest vines rushed to aid. This typically resulted in the hawk sensing movement and taking to the air in its skittishness. Fortunately, the hawk had not completely fled the area, or a lot of time would have been but chaff in the furnace.
First vines just arrived. I’m going to have to use the trees to cage it in rather than use my Spore, the dancing leaves said to Yuclaus. He didn’t feel a need to respond. After a few moments of silence, a soaring dot was seen rising from the forest.
“It will probably be in the air for a while, rest for a bit Sen.”
Tree’s sway in the wind. How come the hawk believed that was reason enough to leave! Is it scared of trees? Unfathomable.
“You should have had it. We should report that hawk.”
The sarcasm was not appreciated.
“I was agreeing with you! It’s not my fault you are unfamiliar with the tone of voice and facial expressions.”
Mhm. Sure.
“Come up and sit with me. We can relax for a bit, and maybe we will get lucky.”
It will be harder to operate my Spore.
“You and I both know you’re going to come up here anyway.”
That makes me want to stay down here.
“I would offer you a chair as a peace offering, but it is impossible to compete with you. I also don't have a chair.”
Fine. Fine. I’m coming. Like a time lapse of a seed, soon green vines sprouted next to Yuclaus, forming into an identical copy of his chair. Isencia pulled herself up from multiple anchor points, making it seem as if she merely floated off the ground, being carefully placed into the chair. Cause was tempted to inquire as to why she didn’t place him as carefully. He was fairly certain a pink bruise was blossoming on his rear.
“We need to get drinks,” Yuclaus finally said after she had settled in.
“We have plenty of water. I do not see why we need more. Couldn’t various beverages harm us?”
“Huh, I never thought of that. I’m fairly certain you can’t water plants with soda, juice, or alcohol, but then again I am no expert. You have a stomach right?”
“I am tempted not to answer that.”
“But I appreciate that you will.”
“Yes, I do have a stomach. So I assume it will be satisfactory notwithstanding the liquid I imbibe,” Isencia attempted to rile Yucalus up by using some of his language. It succeeded, but he didn’t let it show.
“You said there was a city on our way right? I know it may be extremely dangerous for us to enter it, but I’m sure there will be merchants travelling. I could show you the glories of beverages!”
“Hey Yu, is the hawk going down?”
“No, it seems fine. You can see it right there,” Yuclaus paused as an idea sprung in his mind like… a spring. Good job narrator. I should be allowed to pat myself on the back now and then. It is painful watching myself get slowly replaced by a plant girl. I mean, you try to imagine it. Seeing your friendship slowly stolen by a cute —I mean repugnant— nymph. I need to stay positive, all things considered. “Wait,” Cause continued, “Can you not see it?”.
“No, I can see it.”
“So you can see its heading to land now?”
“Mhm. Exactly.”
“Sen, it’s still in the air.”
“...”
“Isencia,” Yuclaus turned to look at the nymph radiating a scent that tightened his chest. Almost as if Cause himself was embarrassed. “If you really can’t see it, that’s ok. You can sense a whole forest single handedly. But, remember when I first saw the tower? I thought you were enjoying the view too.”
“I was enjoying the colors and sky. The finer details are hard for me though. After a certain distance it gets much harder to decipher what things are. It is embarrassing though. To be honest, I didn’t really think you could see differently until today. When you pointed out the hawk I was all but blind to it. Imagine thinking your whole life you were normal, only to so casually be proven wrong.”
“I’m sorry Sen, and I know this is very poor timing, but the hawk is actually starting to land.”
“Sector?”
“What's the one a few sectors towards the elevator from Gourami?”
“The ‘nothing-interesting sector’. I believe you named it.”
“Yes, that one.”
“If it really is sector fourteen—”
“—Thirteen.”
“—Then we might finally be in luck, I have a full net there.”
“Yes! Ok, it looks like it will land in five. It’s always hard to guess whether it will pull out of the dive early and float down, or go straight for it.”
“A little too much information Yu, how long?”
“Right…. Now!”
“I got it. Using the ne—” Isencia’s head jerked to the side, looking to the right of the active sector. “I’m using the net,” She eventually finished her sentence, but kept her eyes towards their camp.
“I don’t see anything flying out of the area. I think we are good.”
“I have it. It is trapped in a ball of— No! It slipped out! I didn’t even think there was a gap. Yu watch it, I had to have at least injured it.” A dot hung low to the horizon, making a beeline for the outer sectors.
“It’s landing on the ‘river-start sector’. Please tell me that one has a net.”
“No, it has never strayed towards the outskirts so I moved it in—” She had been trying to watch the sector to see if she could also get a glimpse of the hawk, but looked straight back at their campsite for a moment. “—to help us have more of a net where it had been landing.” She eventually finished.
“See if we can get to it fast. It just landed, did you sense it?”
“Yes but we… lost it.”
“We lost it?”
“Mhm.”
“How? Did it die, is it gone, what happened?”
“I will take us,” At Isencia’s declaration they left their observation deck. Leaving the crown of the tree, Isencia slingshotted them with her vines. Yuclaus —luckily— was not a human-sized backpack. Instead, he had the privilege of hanging under her like a helicopter air lifting an injured hiker. He kept his eyes steadfastly on the ground below. He did not want to look up Isencia’s dress. That was a line he was not willing to cross.
The two reached the location. In the middle of scattered feathers, was a large hole. It was big enough Yuclaus could crawl into it should he desire. The worst part was that there was no familiar haze denoting a memory they could harvest. Harvesting is the “loot distribution” method of getting the wisps, contrary to Cause’s ripping method. Both understood what this scene meant. Yuclaus was hoping they could get an eagle sight wisp for Isencia. Isencia was hoping they could get a flying wisp. Both were wishing they could kill the Neck Beard.