1. OBSERVATIONS NO. 455
2. DYLUS (who else, idiot?)
SBJT
UNQ. KRITTER OTW TO VLG.
Noticed strange four legged herbivore while out on assignment. Very wrinkly skin like leather, prominent tusks or tusk-like appendages from their mouths. Wide feet, but not hoofed. Greenish-brown hide with mottled spots. Hard to see from moving vehicle, however: could determine there were multiple creatures in the jungle. Assuming herd behaviour in play, or perhaps a foraging area for them. Def. not native to the Hollow Peninsular, guessing that it is Warp-related instead of evolved. Throwing guesses here.
Neck wound from earlier encounter wt. Yumiko started to hurt. Prevented too much staring at creatures. Wondering where she is now. Praying to Tuah she is safe.
Regret. Regret. Regret.
Regret hurting her. Words kept coming out. Didn’t know when to stop. Thought only job. Hurt more than I realise. What to do? Does Miriam know?
She must know. Ignore uncomfortable thoughts. Return to creature observation. Convoy moving slow, could see larger variant of herbivore in bushes. From limited observation, herbivores seem to be sluggish but wary of pred. Larger variant (assuming alpha male / female) was staring at us. Brown eyes, very focused. Did not move at first. Convoy stopped when creature bellowed. Reg gunners trained on animal, mercs stayed calm.
Herbivore attempted to charge. Reg gunner opened fire, warning shots only. Herd immediately fled. Waste of ammunition. Commissar came out to check the scene. Was the one who gave order. Conclusion is she has never been around wildlife much. Encounter over, hoping to see more strange creatures in future.
Thinking about Yumi again. Still have regret. Much to do. Good person beneath shell. Checked map, communicated with Regs. Close to village. Scouts say villagers friendly, ready to entertain us.
Hoping to start investigation early. Will write later.
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The feeling of wild mud on your back was one that was never particularly pleasant. There were all kinds of things trapped within, things that breathed, squirmed, even fed on you on the side. Were it medicinal mud, then it would be an entirely different story. As it were, the Commissar’s lips curled when she saw Dylus drag himself out from underneath her vehicle. The boy- she refused to see him as a man- was somehow brimming underneath the sweat and grime on his uniform.
“Yep, that should do, miss. Your chariot should hold for now.”
“Do you require anything else?”
His metal hand unfurled like a flower as he stood up, “Nope.”
“Good, then we shall carry on.”
“Fine by me,” Dylus said, “but one thing I gotta let you know, miss?”
She spun around, arms crossed, “What would that be?”
A metal finger pointed towards the jungle all around them, accompanied by a worried expression, “Don’t spook the locals. They might remember you.”
“You must mean the tuskers,” Engli said, resting her hand on the hood of the jeep, “and they will, one way or another. Best to get them acquainted with the idea of the Merah’s might in these jungles sooner than later.”
He tried to feel impressed with her boast and failed right off the bat, “Right, I’m sure that’ll work out for you guys in the long run.”
“If you intend to doubt, then maybe do it out of my earshot, Captain.”
“Look, I’m just giving you a heads-up,” Dylus said, putting on his skull-cap, “don’t get feisty when the critters decide you’re their next biggest problem. I’m sure that’ll be more of a problem after the war but still.”
“Then we shall have the locals’ guidance, and perhaps a little bit of yours should the need arise. Let's move on, we waste time talking.”
Engli saw the expression, the body language and the nod of agreement from the mercenary captain. As soon as she turned to return to her vehicle, Dylus immediately changed all that to a small scowl. With a few spins of his finger in the air, the idle mercenaries who were out to stretch their legs- and in the case of one, out to take a leak- quickly returned to their assigned vehicles. His thoughts began almost as soon as he entered his own ride, right after giving the pisser his just due.
“Couldn’t even bloody hold it in, can ya? Next time, we’re leaving without you if you need to piss again,” adjusting himself in the seat, his next words were starkly contrasting, “They’re gonna turn this place into a factory lot when they’re done with it, aren’t they?”
Miriam offered a somewhat lighter thought to that cynicalism.
“Maybe not, Ten-Ten. Maybe they’ll just let the locals live as they are,” she diverted her attention towards the jeep’s radio and informed everyone of their immediate departure, then came back to Dylus, “there’s just too much ground here to cover, even for the Merah.”
“Won’t stop them from doing so eventually.”
“The locals will have time to adapt and assimilate, don’t let your distrust in people get in the way.”
“The people?” Dylus sounded surprised that she brought them up, “nah, we’re all flexible pieces of equipment, I’ve got no worries about that. It’s about the critters.”
Miriam chuckled, “Critters. Yeah. I forgot.”
The convoy roared to life once more. Their journey to the first village was nearly completed, having left behind a trail of disturbed dirt and crushed foliage in the wake of their vehicles. All that was left was a winding path ahead through more jungle, several plains dotted with metal obelisks and rocky hills. Dylus’ request for air recon had paid off as a black dot in the sky alternated between following them and moving ahead. It wouldn’t last for long, but at least it was comforting to know there were eyes in the sky working with them.
While there was a carved out path through the jungles and valleys, Engli had opted to go for a more indirect route, assisted by air support in the case of an extraordinary emergency- or an ambush. In a rare moment of understanding, Dylus agreed with her logic when she explained herself over the radio.
Even going off the beaten path, the commissar still warned that the raiders could be watching them. The point was hammered home when the canopy opened up, revealing that they were riding atop a hill overlooking a wide, recovering plain. Down below and hidden in-between what seemed like the rusting corpses of metal giants, there were several paths that criss-crossed, intersected and occasionally merged into single lanes. On one such charted path, there was a blinding abundance of smoke rising into the air. Dylus, reclining in his chair and just done with hearing a little about Miriam’s recent adventures, leapt up upon seeing it.
“There. That one of our vehicles?”
Miriam didn’t need to look carefully to see them clearly.
“More than one, actually.”
That something had turned into many things. The smoke had coagulated from several dozen sources of smoke, all emanating from dying embers. Miriam’s fire rose from within and silently leapt to the site of battle, revealing how long they had been burning for. She spoke quietly.
“The convoy’s been burning for two days now. These flames ate some of the occupants alive, those that weren’t already killed by the raiders.”
Dylus grimaced, hearing something roar in the air above, “Poor bastards.”
“Poor indeed.”
The roaring peaked, then dipped. Its source, a helicopter with a dull red shade wrapping around its cabin, appeared just ahead, approaching the wreckage with unknown intent. Behind the smog, Dylus could make out a few long, melted barrels jutting out of the vehicles. Whoever was their quarry, he thought as the convoy left it behind, was definitely prey with sharp claws and wit. Amidst the sounds of Engli’s voice going over the comms about the wreckage, he turned to Miriam.
“Tell me something, sis.”
“Yeah?”
“The flames. How much do they tell you about what happened there?”
“A lot, but not all.”
Dylus looked up and adjusted the mirror towards himself. Miriam slapped him and he pulled his hand back in pain, despite her hitting the metal arm instead. He shook his head and continued, “force composition, then.”
She sighed, leaned back into her chair.
“Two infantry fighting vehicles, at the front and back at full carrying capacity. Three self-propelled artillery guns in the middle and several armed jeeps, kitted for off-road travel.”
Dylus grunted. A fair amount of firepower. The road ahead was going to take them into the jungle again. They wouldn’t be seeing this clearing again, unless the commissar had other ideas later on. His next thoughts immediately rolled off his tongue.
“Tell me how quickly they were overwhelmed.”
Miriam looked incredibly uncomfortable at that question. From behind, a curious Wally, stirred by the sight and adding the last touches of pencil shades to his sketch of the burning convoy, spoke up.
“She doesn't like that, chum.”
The lieutenant said nothing, only choosing to curl her lips inwards. She was already reliving the events of the battle without his question, if she could even call it that, her pyrecognition already making her skin crawl. Such was the quiet strength of the orang agni, or pyrogicians as casual speakers like Dylus spoke. Brilliant, evanescent destruction with just a snap of your hands was an ability many would obviously remember despite its endless drawbacks, but the ability to peer into flames, any flames, and walk into the past was one that kept them out of trouble. There were already many fires being kindled, natural or unnatural, in these lands, and pyrecognition helped to figure out how exactly they came about.
In this instance, Miriam only saw a horribly one-sided battle. The smoke from the flames as they rose turned into shapes, turned into people and vehicles, playing out the general direction that the ambush took. There were no sounds, only the roaring of flames, and when she had processed it all, five minutes had passed. Dylus was busy tending to Wally in the back, handing him a piece of bovine jerky, craning back when it was clear Miriam’s pyrecognition had passed.
“What’d you see?”
“A quick death,” she said, “the raiders won the battle before the Merah soldiers even realised that they’d stepped on the first mine.”
Dylus furrowed his chin. A constant gesture from him whenever he was thinking. He moved to dig a little deeper, only for Miriam to suddenly expand on the past.
“There was more.”
“What of it?”
“Some of the men inside were taken by the raiders.”
“Did you get a good look at the kidnappers?”
“As much as I could,” Miriam said, “strange garbs surround them, tripartite eyes watching their victims, their shapes constantly whirling in a darkened blue. Dragged those who could still breathe away into the smog. Something about them messed up my pyrecog, like looking at mirages instead of actual people.”
Stolen story; please report.
There was a lot more interest in his face now, “Sounds like necessary details. I’ll call up Miss Engli.”
She stopped him before his hand reached the console, “Don’t. Not yet, not until we get a good look at them.”
“I trust your pyrecog, Miriam. These are soldiers that could still be alive, leads that could take us to the raiders’ point of origin. She wouldn’t want to pass up on that, right?”
“She can, and she doesn’t have any reason to trust us, remember?” Miriam reminded him, “the same way they don’t trust Yumi, they won’t trust the words of an agni like me.”
“Don’t worry, you got me. I’ll vouch for you. If the vouching doesn’t work, maybe I can punch some sense into them.”
Miriam snickered at his arrogance, “That attitude’s going to get you killed some day.”
Sunlight pierced through the canopy. It bounced off the jeep’s hood and momentarily blinded Dylus. He covered his eyes for a brief second and then looked away to the left. Amidst some destroyed trees there was a sign of human habitation, or at least what looked like it. A mud hut flickered between trees, bushes and leaves, a rack of things left out in the open for some purpose, and the hint of massive scars on the hut’s walls. The finer details eluded him, but something inside him seemed to think it had been recently attacked and abandoned. He didn’t know why exactly, bothering him all the more when it disappeared. He spoke again, focusing his mind on Miriam’s pyrecog.
“So what are we gonna do with your secret knowledge? Any ideas, Wally?”
The crocodilian had already finished his jerky early on. He had been set on being content with more napping, but jostled his brain upon hearing his name being called out. The initial words that came out of his mouth was a sort of ‘murrr’ before becoming coherent, “I dunno. Tell our guys?”
“Right on queue,” Dylus said, “if you think Engli won’t listen in, let’s give our channels a shoutout.”
“That works with me, Ten-Ten.”
This time, she didn’t stop him from accessing the radio console. Dylus cleared his throat and spoke a little more stoically, “Attention all mercs, can I have your attention?”
All of them responded immediately. He smiled.
“Right, so I figured most of you with a window seat have seen that wreckage from earlier on. If you’re not familiar with agni spells, then I have to inform you that Lieutenant Miriam can see through fires into the past. She’s not got an entire picture, but we have a basic identity to our raider issue,” he offered the radio to Miriam with a curtsy nod, “she will lay it out as simply as she could.”
Thus she spoke simply. With one line, the comms momentarily went silent. One person spoke up after a second, “So they got three eyes and invisibility, eh? Penchant for kidnapping helpless soldiers too?”
“Thinking it's some kind of advanced equipment, Helang-Two, like night-vision. Same goes for the garb, though I can’t imagine what powers the need to kidnap a bunch of wounded guys.”
“Maybe they were hungry. We’ve got this area under lockdown, figure they ain’t receiving supplies or something and got desperate.”
“You kidding? They got a bunch of villages to steal from, all this vegetation and whatnot, plus that port up north. If anything, I bet they’re trying to dig out more information about our employers. ”
“I like that guess,” Dylus said, “Let’s run with that. For now, we keep this to ourselves ‘till we can find some solid proof for the boys in red.”
The jungle slowly transformed into a sparse clearing that stretched on into the horizon, populated by the decaying structures of old buildings. Around a winding river that seemed to bleed across the earth and under flocks of bat-like creatures, there were strange, gigantic crystalline explosions pointing towards the sky, surrounded and grown over by flora. Shadows of creatures in many shapes and sizes populated the land around the growths, ignoring the convoy. The crystals seemed to have erupted from the very earth naturally, having created a local ecosystem and having no ill effects towards the environment. The faint shimmer in their web-like cores, however, told Dylus they were anything but natural.
A Warp storm had come and gone countless years ago. It had dropped off these geological relics of an alien world like garbage on top of the Shielded Region, shattering what remains of a surviving Old World city. As always, there were signs that someone tried to exploit these alien things for their own reasons; misshapen abandoned outposts were everywhere in various states of disrepair, alongside carriages both empty and split. Either something had driven out the enterprising miners, Dylus thought, or perhaps the crystals held nothing of value after much mining. Whatever the case, the Merah had thought nothing of it all.
There were stranger things at home, especially near the Eternal Warpfall. The convoy moved on, Dylus trying to write about the sights in his little brown book. His focus was broken when there was a transmission over the radio, conducted with Engli’s usual austerity.
“All vehicles save for Knox-Two, halt all movement and await for my signal. We will push ahead and meet up with the village chief first, over.”
Dylus naturally felt the need to inquire about this, “This is Captain Dylus, has the geezer gotten a change of heart over our arrival?”
“His name is Muzan, captain, and in a way, yes. He has not expanded on her intentions, but he has expressed concerns over our arrival quite suddenly. That is all I can say for now.”
“I don’t suppose you told him about the mile-long convoy full of personnel on the way to their hometown?”
“No. It was in our best interests to keep him in the dark. The raiders could have overheard us before we left the base.”
“Great, so he doesn’t know how many of us he’s supposed to greet then.”
“And it will not matter. If he tries to object or resort to intimidation, we have them all outgunned.”
“I wonder how that will work out, huh?”
“In our favour, captain. Get off the damn line and stay put, over and out.”
He hadn’t noticed his metal hand turning into a tight fist until he rested in the chair. Miriam pointed it out in quick order before he started spewing venom at his employer.
“Dylus, count to four.”
He almost objected, then took a breath in.
“Good. Thanks for listening to your big sis for once.”
“Don’t have to treat me like a kid. Not when I have some room to be upset at that woman.”
“Honesty dies first in war, I suppose,” Miriam muttered, resting her head on the steering wheel, “In some way, she’s right. Mister Muzan’s a village chief. We’re an army of conquering brigands. D’you think we’d keep to our word and play nice?”
“Yes, if you want them to listen to you in the future.”
“Maybe.”
Wally perked up, having been so knee deep in his artistic vision for a world made out of pizza that he only noticed the halted convoy just now, “Huh, what’s happening? Why’d we stop?”
Dylus explained it all quickly. There wasn’t much to go over anyway. The crocodilian immediately understood and offered his point of view rather awkwardly, “I heard you two talkin’ about stuff. Maybe we stopped because those raiders could be in the village and the commissar just wants to double-check.”
“If they were, they’d hit us already. Too good of an opportunity to hit and run.”
“Not if they’re patient hunters like us.”
Huh.
It was an interesting thought; one that filled his mind with anxiety more than anything else. Remembering the overgrown city, the mud hut from earlier and the burning convoy, Dylus retreated into his thoughts for a moment. When he looked outside, it suddenly felt like there were eyes watching them. Nay, there had to be. It was a matter of what they’d do next.
He looked at Miriam and silently communicated his discomfort, then sent out an order for some men to guard the convoy while they were idle. He joined them with his rifle in hand, eyes darting all over the place. For the next few minutes, the jungle had become a lot more constricting, even when the Merah soldiers bolstered their numbers.
Wally had no idea how right he was. Something was watching them, continuing to do so even after Engli had given the all-clear sign and most of them had retreated into their vehicles. One person did not for a moment, standing there and tilting his head as if something was whispering into his ear over his standard-issue headset. The watcher thought nothing of it at first, then suddenly saw him turn.
Not left, not behind. No, towards its direction, with a vacant, almost-dead stare. The watcher flinched, readying its weapon. It only relaxed when the mercenary seemed to ‘wake up’, like he had fallen under some kind of brief spell, rubbing his temples and returning to his vehicle. Despite the false alarm, something seemed not right with the man.
The watcher mentally made a note of this strange individual: this was one to be wary of.
Without any more foreseeable interruptions, the convoy moved out once more. The signs that marked the end of their journey were visible after ten minutes more; a set of adobe houses neatly built in parallel lines alongside a stretched road, three large buildings tucked away behind them that spewed light puffs of smoke upwards into the sky. There was not much grace when the convoy crossed over to the actual road leading into the village, rolling over all manners of things personal to the village. Muzan- who had watched the path with a massive gun at rest- separated from the commissar across her and waved to them. The lead vehicle raised the comms.
“Alright, we’re here, boys and girls. Get ready to disembark and offload those supplies, over.”
Dylus found himself out of the vehicle as soon as he felt the vehicle stop. His hewn-together coat followed in his steps in a faint breeze, making him stand out from the soldiers all around him. Wally accompanied him, eyes glittering with wonder from seeing An Vrong’s quaintness. Their presence certainly enticed the village chief more than the commissar’s own, seeing that his face glowed with curiosity.
Without a word in his stride, the mercenary looked past the village chief and analysed the town. From where they stood, Dylus could see that most of its bulk lay in its source of trade; huge iron structures topped by chimneys and large entrances, nestled comfortably behind most of the residential huts. Its industrious nature seemed to have earned it some form of luxury from the Coalition. Electrical poles stood high above the town, clean water plentiful from the numerous water towers scattered throughout the place, even some concrete buildings that seemed far more suited to the Old World than to An Vrong.
All was not exactly in one piece, however. Some parts of the town seemed to be deserted, others lightly damaged by what seemed to be stray shells or bombs. One area seemed particularly roughed up, cordoned off by the villagers through haphazard signs and rusted detritus. It was this area that intrigued him the most. He couldn’t quite tell what had caused it from this distance, but something told him that it wasn’t caused by human weapons. Approaching Muzan with this on his mind, he opened his mouth just as the chief spoke. The ensuing backpedalling ate some of his pride, to say the least. Not that the chief minded or even noticed.
“A-a-ah, you already have something on your mind, hunter?”
“Hunter?”
Engli looked at him, arms crossed, then spoke.
“Chief Muzan here knows you more than he knows about us, mercenary. Completely changed his attitude when I brought you up.”
“I- thanks?”
Muzan put his rifle against his breast and reached out for a shake. Dylus nervously smiled, offered his hand, and almost panicked when Muzan kissed it instead. The man was elated to see Dylus, speaking in his native tongue with subdued joy.
“The Slayer of beasts from across the wall! What an interesting sight to our humble village!”
“Uh.”
Of all outcomes to expect from this meeting, this was one he preferably didn’t want. A little praise and some leeway, but not outright joy. He looked to Engli and shrugged. The chief did as well.
“You should have told us about him and his people, officer, instead of just yourselves. The people- they are scared of soldiers, frightened from that terrible warlord’s reign. I had to sing songs about your glory to get them to calm down.”
“Warlord?”
Muzan nodded feverishly, “Yes, yes. Sawat-Lon, a witch from the sandy North. A speaker of devilish tongues. He is nothing but trouble, without anyone to rein him in.”
“Warlords and witches, interesting…”
“Not yours,” Engli said, “Lon is one from the Khayivati kingdom, right next to Ghincheng. They’re normally reclusive, but RISIKO has seen them making political moves in the aftermath of their civil riots.”
“Yeah, the sand ‘casters. I’ve heard stories of them appearing in the Peninsular for weird trinkets, then disappearing as quick as they come.”
The old chief wagged his finger, “they go far for conduits, things to channel their thamorja, then they return to their sandswept huts to harness devilish power. It is wicked work, I tell you.”
The old man looked around cautiously. His eyes looked beyond Dylus and Engli. Instantly they knew that he wasn’t spacing out. Muzan was watching for something beyond his village’s walls, something in the trees that could be watching them. Nay, was watching them. There was a hint of fear in his eyes, compounded by his next words, “we must not speak too close to the border. Come, we will discuss more in the meeting hall further in.”
Engli moved to speak, only to have Dylus interrupt her with some confidence, “We appreciate the gesture, chief, but what about our vehicles and assets?”
Muzan stared at the convoy and muzzled his beard with a free hand. He didn’t take long to act, whistling in a cadence Dylus was not familiar with. Soon, someone came to him, a young lad smaller than Dylus who was spry and jittery. The chief confided with the boy for a moment and sent him off towards An Vrong’s interior with a message.
“My people will help yours, as you promise to help ours. For now, we must make sure that Sawat’s eyes cannot find them again so easily, alongside your-”
Though he had seen many things over the course of his lifetimes, the sight of military vehicles never failed to intimidate him, “carriages. Our karaakar buildings have been silent since the attacks on our place and cleared out. Your metal carriages can find refuge there.”
Sawat’s eyes, Dylus mused. The thought brought him back to the gnawing wariness after Wally’s mutterings and the various sights he had noted down throughout the journey. Muzan waved for them to follow him, bringing them to a small little trishaw that looked well maintained despite all that plagued the town. Engli’s people followed as well, but the chief warded them back and shook his head.
“They will not follow. Only you two.”
Engli made sure that there was a reminder of her official seniority, “With all due respect, they shall follow us. A measure of protection, should Sawat’s raiders be within this town waiting to strike.”
“You think I would host followers of Sawat, officer?”
“I think they hide amongst your people, regardless of your intent. It’s only a small favour I ask, chief, to keep you and I safe.”
The old man remained stubborn, “You shall not have it. They will stay.”
Engli huffed. She moved to respond. Dylus immediately cleared his throat, stepped up and lightly brushed away the commissar. His stride wasn’t bombastic in any way, but it carried an air of heroism that flowed with his cape and caught Muzan’s respect, “Alright, just the two of us? Your rules, sir, we’ll play by it. Lead on.”
When Muzan chuckled, it served to rile up the commissar internally. She almost felt like chewing him out there, especially with a cocksure smirk that he made towards her upon getting into the trishaw, but threw her frustration down into an abyss. There was already enough trouble he was brewing, she would not allow herself to get incensed by this child of a leader.
When the both of them entered the trishaw, Dylus reached over and made a wide-range broadcast to his own group, “Alright, mercs, help out the Merah regiment with their unloading. Play nice with the locals and see if there’s anything you can do to help out while I meet up with the chief. Spot anything funny, let me know. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”
Then he saddled up, adjusted his skull hat, and took in a whiff of An Vrong’s air. It was stale, a bit muddled with the fumes of burning earth, but it would do. A bit like home, he thought, a bit like home.