hey all!
The next chapter entails Alaric having nowhere else to turn and he, led by the hawk, would find something that would test his sense of identity of himself and what he believed to the limit.
this chapter was draining on me, spending so much time on it, trying to get it right to the last detail. I hope I nailed it.
Just so you all know I'll be taking a pseudo-break from this story in April, I'm going to the USA on holiday. But, ever the person who's always thinking of things, I will be writing whenever possible and hopefully, and if you lot are good, I may have a chapter ready for when I return.
As always, read and review and don't forgot to spread the story around.
Chapter 22- Sanctuary.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Alaric cursed as he ran as fast as he could, boots crunching underfoot and trying not to trip over hive webbing and ice slicks, from something that used to be human.
The hawk, flying out ahead of him, suddenly veered sharply around a corner and Alaric was determined not to lose sight of it. He vaulted sharply around the corner, free running across the opposite wall a few crunching paces as his momentum carried him off. It wasn't long before the xenomorph in question did the same, tearing shreds from the stone wall.
Alaric's luck had run out. He had discovered that one of the xenomorphs had been tracking him and was now trying to lose it as it chased after him. It appeared that what miner said about 'knowing through each other was true and Alaric had unknowingly walked right into the claws of the ambusher laying in wait.
But on the bright side, if you could call it that, at least all the running would keep Alaric warm.
Alaric found that outrunning this miner-turned-ancient xenomorph in its hive was pushing him far beyond his boundaries. He was running in unknown territory where he had no idea of where to go or what might be behind the next corner. The xenomorph on the other hand would know every inch of its hive.
Alaric's only guide was the hawk as it now flew above him, shining like a beacon to lead Alaric to safety.
"Do you even know which way you're going!?" Alaric shouted up, sliding under a massive tendril.
The hawk merely gave a loud call in reply as Alaric sprinted to his feet just in time to see it dive sharply down and out of sight ahead
"Oh, of course." Alaric muttered as he vaulted over another tendril. "You've probably been stuck in this temple for years."
That was when he noticed that the passageway had suddenly dropped steeply when he expected to land on his feet. More accurately, he ended up half skidding, half rolling head-over-heels down the drop before he knew it. Cursing loudly, he managed to roll onto his feet and stay on them. He saw that the slope was actually tendril encroached stairs that led ever deeper into the temple.
"This I do not need!" Alaric cursed, spitting out a mouthful of webbing as he left a trail of crushed webbing behind him.
Alaric slid down the tendril encroached stairs, keeping his balance with his arms out. Looking behind him he could see that the xenomorph was somewhat imitating his actions. Perhaps in some way to intimidate him.
Alaric, thinking ahead, veered over to the right side of the staircase, until he was nearly scraping on the tunnel wall. And the xenomorph followed suit. Alaric shifted around so that he was facing is pursuer and he gestured with his hand, daring it to come closer.
That's it, Alaric thought as the xenomorph swiftly approached. A little closer.
The xenomorph had now come dangerously close to striking distance. And Alaric saw it rearing to bring him into its razor filled maw.
"Bon appetite'!" Alaric yelled, giving the xenomorph the Finger.
Alaric hurled himself off the ramp at the last moment, with as much force as he could muster as the xenomorphs jaws snapped behind him with a loud chitinous crack. He vaulted over the balustrade that had suddenly appeared with a fluid flip while the xenomorph crashed face first into the stone. The balustrade, weakened from the hive webbing, fractured into large chunks of rock with a loud rumbling crack.
That'll buy me a few seconds, he thought as he trailed though the air.
Alaric landed his feet after he landed as the xenomorph skidded to a halt, no doubt stunned by the impact. He didn't waste time running before the xenomorph recovered from the impact.
He had managed to get a good distance away before he skidded to a halt.
"Oh... bugger." Alaric panted, looking around.
He took in his surroundings, completely at a loss since he could not find the hawk waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.
"Shit!" Alaric cursed, looking frantically around. "Where are you?!"
Alaric found himself in a large hall that only had one other tunnel leading out, straight ahead. Alaric didn't have time to mentally map this chamber or figure what it's purpose was. He ran for the tunnel, which was roughly ten feet wide and about twenty feet high. However, the hawk was no where to be found to confirm if this was the way.
Alaric's footsteps were now making a much more solid thumping sound instead of the usual crunch of hive webbing. That meant he was running more on solid stone floor now.
Alaric had a faint hope that he had finally found an exit out of the hive but then that came to a rather literal, abrupt, and jarring halt. And by that, He had run into a solid wall, slamming hard into the stone and slumping down in a heap. Alaric cradled his head, throbbing as the impact caused a migraine to erupt behind his skull plate.
"Fucking typical." he cursed, rubbing his head and picking himself up. "I run straight into a dead end."
Alaric looked around frantically as he searched for another way out. There was no other tunnel leading away from his position. And he couldn't see the hawk anywhere.
"You bastard!" He cursed the hawk, wherever it was. "You led me into a trap!"
That was when he heard the screeching roar.
Alaric turned and he saw the xenomorph, face scuffed and scratched from its previous battering, halt several meters away from him. It was likely gauging on Alaric's chances if he should fight in this confined area. Alaric had already assessed his position and he was as a severe disadvantage. Considering the xenomorph's size and the size of the tunnel, Alaric had little room to maneuver.
One wrong move and he would be sliced to ribbons before he could react.
Alaric drew one of his hand axes and hefted it. He would have to fight his way out of this one whether he wanted to or not.
"If there's any human left of you in there, you have one chance to get out of my way." he demanded, half heartedly hoping that some remnant of humanity resided behind the xenomorphs eyeless visage.
A loud roaring screech was the reply he got as the xenomorph riled itself, sending up clouds of snow. Alaric flourished his axe and took deep controlling breaths, preparing himself for the fight.
"Well, come on!" Alaric goaded, getting into a readied position with his back and free hand to the wall to the stone wall. "Come and get me then!"
The xenomorph responded to his challenge and charged at him at speed, likely intending to crush him against the stone. But as it approached, something strange happened.
A blue glow filled the tunnel, coming from the stone wall behind Alaric. it illuminated the whole tunnel on the first light that this temple must have felt in eons.
Then, in a completely uncharacteristic move, the xenomorph skidded to a halt just one foot away from Alaric. Alaric was about to drive his axe in but the sudden stop caught his attention. He looked up at the xenomorph, wondering why it stopped. Its attention was concentrated on the wall that Alaric had his back to. It seemed to reacting what seemed to be anxiety or even fear. It made what sounded like stammering screeches as it backed away quickly.
Alaric watched with complete puzzlement as he saw the xenomorph suddenly turn tail and run with a frightened screech. Alaric holstered his axe as he watched the xenomorph latch to the walls and scampered up into the darkness.
What could scare an ungodly bug?
"What just happened?" he asked himself, before uncertainty took his mind. "What the hell did I press?"
He looked up behind and saw an imposing sight as he stepped a pace or two back for a better look.
"By my ancestors." he whispered.
It was a towering glowing effigy of the Yautja god of death, Cetanu, himself. But, not in the normally demonic manner that he was associated with but in a more honored and venerated state. The deity was clad in ancient armor of godlike, almost angelic artifice and robes like the void of space, giving the visage of an angelic warrior priest. Streams of light poured from his back like angel's wings in four pairs arranged like a star. In his left hand was a levitating orb, pulsing with energy with a mist swirling around it. In his right hand was the scythe that he had been seeing in those visions.
"This is supposed to be the god of death?" he questioned to himself. "He doesn't look horrifying here as everyone on Lai'kairis makes him to be."
In fact, as Alaric himself had seen at the temple for his initiation, Cetanu was often shown under his void black robes as encased in the bones of the dead and having multiple maws that were used to devour the souls of the living. Something to inspire terror in any who see him.
This effigy however, was of a more revered, dignified and noble figure.
This clan really takes their god seriously, Alaric thought.
Alaric then noticed a glowing imprint that was level with his head. A hand print surround by a ring of runes. He looked at it closer, reading the runes around the hand print.
Built from our Bloodline. Opened by our Bloodline. Sealed by our Bloodline.
This filled Alaric with a small flicker of hope. Maybe this was the main entrance to the prison. He could finally get out.
Thinking back to the visions he had been seeing, if his Spartan ancestors were indeed made a part of the clan than, hopefully, they would've been able to open doors that were built into the temple.
Alaric looked back and he heard more screeching echoing throughout the hive. He knew that every single xenomorph was converging on his position. He didn't have much time. Alaric knew that there was only one way to go now.
He would have to try to open the way.
Please let this be the way out, he prayed as he pressed his hand to the imprint.
The glowing runes and effigy surged with power as his hand made contact, brightening the tunnel, and flickering with waves of energy that coursed through the stone like a flowing river. Alaric withdrew his hand, seeing tendrils of light encircle his hand in graceful arcs and feeling comfortably warm before fading away. The wall then started to split down the middle as a stream of energy slid down the wall before the two half rumbled apart, so seamlessly that no such split was visible to the naked eye. And the two halves of the wall slid apart with a loud grinding of stone.
Alaric didn't waste any time as he squeezed through the gap as soon as it was big enough. The doors themselves as Alaric found out were over a meter thick and clear lines of power were coursing through almost like an organic circuit board.
He saw that he arrived in a large room, thirty meters square and illuminated by a beam of light that shone from above, one that didn't have colossal amounts of snow or hive webbing occupying everything. This was without doubt the most ornate room by far, judging from the incredibly exquisite craftsmanship.
Alaric wondered if the whole temple was this ornate under the webbing, but his wonder soon turned to frustration as he saw that there was no other exit from this chamber.
"Oh, give me a fucking break!" he cursed as the gateway stopped with a loud rumble
He turned around and saw the swarm of xenomorphs turn into the corridor and headed towards him. Seeing no alternative, either getting swarmed by rampaging xenomorphs or getting trapped behind solid stone, he chose the latter and rushed back to the doors desperately trying to pull them close.
"Shut!" he shouted in frustration. "Shut you blasted thing! Shut!"
The gate surged with blue energy and began to close at the same grindingly slow pace. Alaric rushed to the left hand panel and aimed Razeal down the corridor. He had to slow the xenomorphs down so that the doors could seal themselves.
Right, he thought as he cocked his sidearm. Nine rounds, nine hits.
He fired Razeal down the tunnel, taking extreme care with his limited ammunition. While he couldn't outright kill one of these ungodly bugs with his sidearm, he could at least try and pop a few kneecaps.
Alaric managed to get a few clean hits, causing the xenomorphs hit to stagger and disrupt the rest of the swarm but only for a few moments until they once more joined the flood of impending death.
And that wasn't the only thing that Alaric was concerned about.
"Where's that bloody bird?!" he demanded.
A shrill avian cry echoed down the tunnel and the gleaming hawk appeared, soaring down the tunnel like shooting star. Alaric watched as the hawk steered itself towards the lead xenomorph and it was glowing more intensely then before. Suddenly, in a flashing blur, the hawk rocketed at incredible speed at the beast. The hawk impacted the xenomorph from behind with a enough force to punch right through it in a brilliant flash of white light like a shooting star. The xenomorph, much to Alaric's surprise, seemed to fall apart as flame like energy consumed it. The xenomorph disintegrated to bits as it hit the ground, it's flesh and carapace sizzling.
The show was enough to make the horde pause for a moment in what was perceived to be fear. But it didn't take long for their Hive Mind to bring them in line and they once again resumed their charge.
"About time!" Alaric praised as he fired once again as the hawk flew past him. "Nice take-down."
Razeal's slide jerked open as the last spent casing pinged out as the hawk flew into the chamber. Alaric cursed as he tossed his pistol to his side and patted around his belt. Alaric grasped for the loaded flare gun and aimed it just as the lead bug lunged at him.
"Say 'Ahh', motherfucker!" Alaric roared as he squeezed the trigger.
In a bright flash, Alaric fired the flare right into the xenomorphs maw and it lodged itself right in the roof of the bug's mouth before exploding in a red flash. Red flames engulfed the xenomorph's head as it crashed to the ground and thrashed around, knocking some of it's brood kin out of the charge.
"Ha!" Alaric laughed before his smile left his face. "Oh, shit!"
Alaric dived to the side just in time as a xenomorph, the same one that had been chasing him earlier, lunged, and attempted to bite him with a loud snap of razor sharp teeth. He rolled; reaching for an axe before seeing that his enemy had run into a slight problem. Or rather had gotten trapped by a big problem.
Alaric saw the xenomorph's head had gotten caught between the doors, futilely trying to get free and there was a loud symphony of cracks forming in its already battered head. The stone doors were undeterred by the sudden obstruction as they slowly ground their way together. Shards of chitin started to chip off and rivulets of acid blood streamed out the cracks.
Alaric walked up next to xenomorph as a loud crack was heard and fractured its head lengthways. It was about to cave in on itself. Alaric smugly leaned over like he was in a comedy program.
"I heard about using your head, but this is ridiculous." Alaric remarked.
The xenomorph's head collapsed like an overripe zit, chitin shards flew and acid blood spurted in all directions as Alaric nimbly dodged the corrosive streams and the doors sealed with a loud thud and grind of stone. The acid blood fizzed and bubbled on the stone, giving off acrid smoke but the stone showed no intention of being dissolved.
Alaric breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could rest without fear of being ambushed. He slumped against the door, slid down to the floor, and sat there. He shivered as his body used up the last of the adrenaline in his blood, his bands jingling in his hair.
"This is just getting too much, even for me." he muttered, wiping the cold sweat off his face.
Outside, he could hear the roaring of the xenomorphs. He can hear the dull scratching of claws against stone as they tried to tear their way through. Alaric shifted away from the door out of caution, picking up Razeal as he moved. But the stone was unyielding against the onslaught.
"Well, at least I finally found a sanctuary in this hive." he praised before sighing. "Even if it is right in the middle of hell."
Alaric assessed his situation as he looked at his empty pistol and the empty flare gun.
"Right." he evaluated, tossing the flare gun. "I'm stuck in a middle of the hive full of prehistoric, host-transforming bugs. I've got no ammo or supplies. I'm freezing my ass off and I'm trapped in a tomb with the whole fucking brood outside these doors." he shut the slide on Razeal before holstering it. "Well, adapt or die." he sighed.
Alaric decided to see what this sanctuary had to offer for his survival. He looked around to get a feel of the chambers layout, now that he had time to. This had to be the only place pure of the hive as there was little to no snow or webbing, so this would make scavenging much easier. But, on first glance this crypt was looking a bit bare.
There weren't any ornate murals, elaborate stonework decorations on the walls, and no statues that he could see. It gave him the impression that this chamber had not been finished for some reason.
Maybe the temple wasn't finished before the xenomorphs were hemmed in? Maybe there as a sudden change of plan?
The room also had eight large geometrical pillars that were arranged in a geographical fashion, one in each direction like a compass. Much like the frozen waterfalls in the cavern in which the temple is located.
Alaric was thrown from his thoughts when he suddenly slipped on an ice slick and he fell onto his side with a loud crash that made most of his ruined armor rattle and crack. Groaning in frustration, he sat up, rubbing his arm after he had landed on it.
"Oh, come on!" he cursed. "I've had enough of ice!"
He looked down to the slick and his frustration faded quickly when he saw that the slick in question was dark red.
The slick was in fact blood.
Human blood.
Alaric shifted himself off the slick and looked at it more closely, his experience of battlefield forensics coming back to him. It looked as if someone was hemorrhaging badly, maybe from a severe wound to a vital artery and, when Alaric looked further up, was moving further down the chamber as indicated by the streaking drops.
Alaric picked himself up and followed the trail. He noticed that the trail was getting irregular and, judging from the stains, the bleeder in question was being supported by another person it would seem. Alaric paused when he noticed a change in color with some of the blood slicks.
A once fluorescent green.
The other person must have been one of those Yautja from the visions.
Alaric was starting to get uncertain with what he was tracking. But, he continued on.
As he got closer, Alaric at that point noticed something, hidden from view by the central right pillar. It was an armored hand, dimly shining in the dim light. And the trail of frozen blood was leading to it. Alaric hurried forward.
Coming around for a better look, Alaric was in for a surprise. It was a frozen Spartan corpse in chipped battle damaged armor that lay against the south west pillar in a manner that was like sleeping, his aspis shield, looking almost completely undamaged by comparison, resting against him. Alaric walked closer and saw a large ragged bloody hole, run completely through, in the body's side where his liver would be located. This gave him the impression that something had enough force to penetrate the armor. Maybe from a xenomorph tail but something about this wound, a feeling deep in Alaric's gut, just didn't seem right. A large pool of his frozen blood was pooled around him. With a smattering of green drips in front of him.
The Spartan's hand was encrusted predominately his own blood and a smear of the Yautja's.
Alaric couldn't help but mutter a small prayer as he knelt down by the body, head down in respect. As he raised his head, he noticed distinct ornate markings on the armor, different from the armor he had seen in those visions. It looked as if this Spartan was one of a higher rank. Maybe one who was in charge of a phalanx? A Lochagos, the ancient Greek variant of a captain.
He and one of those Yautja must have gotten separated and was attacked by one of those bugs, Alaric thought.
He looked back at the blood trail as he surmised a plausible hypothesis.
Then he was carried here and died before any medical aid could be given, he concluded. Though with these wounds it might not have made a difference if he did.
Alaric examined the body more, gently raising the shield to get a better look. Alaric was careful not to damage the millennia old remains. He raised a brow when he saw the Spartan's vice-like grip on the shields handle.
Alaric was surprised that such a grip had survived for so long.
"He died with his shield." Alaric said, seeing how tightly the Spartan had gripped it.
In Ancient Greece, the shield was considered the most important item of a warrior. It not only protects himself but protects those next to him in the phalanx, ensuring a strong defense. If a warrior lost his shield or, considering how heavy the shield was, throws it away to flee, that was considered an extremely disgraceful dishonor. Negligence for the former and putting his own survival ahead of those of his comrades for the latter.
And that led to a well known Spartan phrase: Return with your shield or upon it.
Alaric looked around the Spartan's body and grumbled in annoyance.
Where are his weapons? He thought before another popped into his head. And another point, where is that Yautja?
A distinct rapping was heard coming from the centre of the chamber. The sound of a beak against stone. Alaric turned to the source and he found something that caused him to whisper in the slayer tongue.
This room, or crypt for a more fitting term, had a large ornate stone sarcophagus in the centre on a plinth of six steps that was illuminated by a beam of light from above. Making for an almost shrine-like setting. And, much to Alaric surprise, the hawk was rapping against the stone lid in a manner that spoke of reverence or, from it's posture, mourning.
Almost like it was trying to wake up the dead occupying it.
Alaric noticed that the dark green blood trail that had joined the Spartan's was leading to the sarcophagus. And, for further confirmation, there was a large blood stain upon the stonework, giving Alaric the impression that the Yautja had fallen upon it at one point.
Alaric walked up as the hawk continued to rap with its beak.
"There you are." Alaric said, stopping at the edge of the sarcophagus. "Where have you been back there?"
The hawk didn't look up to him. It continued to look at the sarcophagus. Alaric leant on the sarcophagus, clicked his tongue, and rapped his fingers.
He was going to interrogate the hawk.
"Look, I know you can understand me." Alaric stated. "And I've got a good impression of what you're communicating. Since we are now trapped inside a crypt with the whole hive waiting outside, you are going to tell me WHY, of all places in this ice ball, did you lead me here?"
The hawk looked up at him. It gave Alaric a cocked head that told him 'We're not trapped'.
Alaric rapped his fingers again.
"It would've been better if you had led me to an armory, something that could help me, oh I don't know, get out of this place?!" his added, his frustration finally bubbling out. "I mean the only thing I've seen so far is one of my dead ancestors sitting against a pillar."
The hawk was undeterred by his rant. It merely stepped back and waved its wing over the sarcophagus. In a manner that it was showing to Alaric that this was the reason it led him here.
Alaric rapped his fingers again in thought from the hawks actions.
"So you led me to a crypt and whatever is in this place, namely this sarcophagus, is the key to my escape?" he surmised.
The hawk nodded before making a lifting gesture with its wings. Alaric rapped his fingers again as the hawk once again motioned its wing over the sarcophagus.
"You want me to open this?" Alaric asked, pointing at the sarcophagus.
The hawk nodded and Alaric gave a curt laugh.
"I've seen enough Indiana Jones to know that this is likely locked, trapped or both." Alaric said.
The hawk cocked its head at his point. It didn't understand the reference that Alaric had just made.
"Ah, you wouldn't know who Indiana Jones is." Alaric muttered as he turned to the task at hand.
Alaric was understandingly cautious about messing with this ancient Yautja tomb. There was no telling what the builders, be it Yautja or Dwarves, could have hidden in the stone.
However, the current situation dictates otherwise.
Alaric, out of caution, moved around the sarcophagus, carefully examining every square inch. He even gave a few cautionary pokes on anything that he thought looked out of place. The hawk simply watched him, like it was perplexed that Alaric was taking so many precautions.
Well, Alaric thought. I can't see anything out of the ordinary.
He stood back up, back to where he started.
"Oh, well." he said, getting a grip on the lid. "Sorry about this, whoever is in there."
He gave a sharp pull and he winced at the sharp tug on his muscles as the stone lid failed to give. Rubbing his arms, he tried again, this time more slowly. But, no matter how much muscle bulging tugs he gave, even managing to give himself a really bad cramp in his right arm, the lid would not budge.
The hawk was looking somewhat bemused from Alaric's attempts as Alaric finally gave up.
"Fuck, that's a tight seal." Alaric cursed.
Alaric massaged his biceps as he assessed the situation, muttering under his breath. The hawk rolled its eyes, almost with 'Are you kidding me?' look on its avian face. Alaric at that point suddenly had a thought.
"Wait a second." Alaric said, looking to the hawk. "I'm missing something aren't I?
The hawk merely rapped it's beak in the same spot it had been and Alaric noticed it, shifting up onto the sarcophagus for a better look as the hawk stepped to the side, making a pointing motion with it's wing. It was another hand print and rune circle, cleverly concealed. Alaric hadn't seen it before because at first, it was seen as merely part of the ornamentations on the sarcophagus.
"Clever." Alaric said. "Literally in front of me the whole time."
Alaric saw that there was green blood in the indent. That put the idea that the wounded Yautja had opened it before climbing inside.
He then read the runes.
'Should the Devouring Darkness rise once more, embrace the Light within.'
Alaric grinned.
"If that doesn't say 'Weapons Cache' I don't know what will." he said, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Alaric placed his hand onto the imprint. And he once again felt that warm feeling coursing over his skin as tendrils of light coursed over his cold flesh.
The whole sarcophagus lit up in the same fashion as the doors had. All manner of glyphs, patterns, and runes lit up, illuminating the chamber as the light shone brightly as if a sun was contained within. The hawk flapped off of the glowing stone and flew up somewhere out of sight.
Alaric stepped back in case he had set off a trap of some kind. And what happened next was just nothing short of mystical. The light within the sarcophagus surged outwards and up like a roaring fire, illuminating the whole chamber. Alaric had to hold his hands up to protect his eyes. The flames took the shining form of the scythe and Lambda glyph before the flames flared and died in a massive surge of light.
Alaric rubbed his eyes as the flash had robbed him of his night vision. It took a few moments of blinking and rubbing to regain his sight.
The stone sarcophagus lid slid apart with a surprisingly soft grind into multiple stone plates before it lowered itself to the floor on each side, swirling tendrils of light coursing around the stone before fading away. Looking into the sarcophagus, Alaric saw something that made him go wide eyed. Inside was Gri'nyr in his armored suit, his long armored dreadlocks draped over him on one side like a quilt. And, surprisingly, it was in pristine condition. Its silver colored metal was shining in the light, its robes were pristine, and the darkened crystalline runes contrasted with the metal plating. From they way it was laid out in a natural posture, he concluded that the armor was still occupied.
It would seem that Gri'nyr had died in battle and was placed here as a silent guardian for the temple. Alaric considered the possibility, accounting for the nature of these xenomorphs.
However, since he had seen the blood trail leading to the sarcophagus, he had presumed to see damage to the armor. There wasn't so much as a scratch on it.
The hawk hopped onto Gri'nyr's shoulder, bowing its head towards Gri'nyr's mask. It then looked up at Alaric, gesturing with its wing at Gri'nyr.
"Looks like he didn't make it after all." Alaric said, getting a closer look at the armor.
"You want me to rob a clan leader's body of his armor?" Alaric hesitantly asked.
The hawk nodded before it hopped off Gri'nyr and up onto the stone rim.
"Right, as much as I hate desecrating graves, needs must." he whispered to himself.
He unlatched his axe's harness and placed it on the floor, followed by his two hand axes. He then, somewhat gingerly, reached out to take the helmet. He gently lifted it up, strangely with no resistance, expecting to see the mummified remains of the Yautja who wore it. But, surprisingly, he didn't find a frozen corpse. He didn't find a body turning to dust. In fact, there was no body occupying the suit. It was almost like the armor had lain in this tomb by itself.
What the hell? He thought. There's no body?!
Even though he then searched the whole coffin very thoroughly for any dead remains, he could find nothing. Gri'nyr it seemed had vanished into thin air.
Alaric looked to the hawk.
"All right, there is something strange about this whole ordeal now." he earnestly told it. 'That Yautja's armor is in here, obviously in a funerary layout, but there is no body." He then held up the helmet and pointed to where Gri'nyr's head should be. "And, since there are Yautja blood spills on the floor, there should be a body. So, where is the body?"
The hawk simply flapped its wings and hovered before flying up and out of sight. Alaric decided not to waste time trying to get an answer.
"Fine, I'll question you later." Alaric said, waving a hand, placing the helmet on the sarcophagus' rim.
Resuming to the task at hand, he stripped himself of his damaged armor. From the look of the armor suit, and what he saw from those visions, he could see that it was going to be skin tight.
Alaric undid his ragged thermal jacket and the shreds of insulating fur inside tumbled out. Alaric slightly shivered as he dropped it on the ground. He would have to get in the armor quickly. Alaric then unlatched his ruined gauntlets and dumped them before reaching down to his boots. He deftly removed them before, somewhat reluctantly, removing his fatigues. He was sorry to see them go after all they had been through but needs must. He then went about removing all of the thermal mesh that would have been warming him in different circumstances.
Alaric shivered as he felt the ungodly cold encroach deeper into him, now wearing only his boxers. He had to get in the armor quickly.
He reached in the sarcophagus and started hauling out the armor and laying it out on the stone floor.
It appeared that the suit was made in a modular fashion with each part of the suit's structure being interconnected with each other. The upper body was composed into torso and arms, while the lower body was the boots, greaves, groin protection, and fully encircling cuisses for the thighs. And all of these had the fine robes of metallic silk, as was the closest that Alaric could describe.
He slipped the lower proportion of the suit on, with some difficulty due to it's larger size and the fact it was freezing cold upon contact with his skin. As each part was joined there was a slight hissing click and the parts were securely held together.
"God, this is baggy." Alaric muttered, as he held up the belt to keep it from falling.
He soon decided that sitting on the steps would be the best option. He pulled up the leggings and sat down to keep it in place. He then reached over and slipped the cuirass on before locking it in place. Alaric then proceeded to slipped his arms into the armored sleeves and gauntlets before locking those in.
He stood up, feeling the suit shift and clatter downwards as gravity took hold.
"Okay, last but not least: the helmet." he said, hefting said item up and putting it on over his head.
It took some adjusting, getting his hair into the armored tubes were Gri'nyr's dreadlocks used to be, before a sharp click was heard as the helmet sealed over Alaric's face and connected to the rest of the suit.
Alaric could hear his breathing echo inside the helmet and his shivering made the plating rattle. He hefted up his arms to find the control unit for the suit. But to his puzzlement, there wasn't any. There was no sign that a control unit was even designed into this suit.
Oh, he thought. That's not normal.
He then sighed, the sound echoing loudly in the helmet.
Well, he thought in apprehension. Lets see what it can do.
Alaric took a few trial steps and found the armor was far too big for him as it clunked and rattled with every motion. The under-suit constantly shifting against his skin. Alaric would be lucky be lucky to have only chaffing to worry about at this rate.
He saw that the hawk was watching him from a nestled position on a pillar ledge. It looked like it was silently amused from his attempts to fit the armor. However, it appeared to be waiting for something to happen.
"I bet you're finding this very amusing." he said, crossing his arms.
That was when he heard a sharp click coming from his neck, followed by an electrical buzz. He looked down to see arcing sparks dance around the amour.
"What did I press?" he said, dread filling his head. "What did I press?!"
Alaric suddenly felt a sharp piercing pinch erupting all over his body. The armor and the underlying layer beneath for some reason was contorting tightly and sharply around his body, like a snake crushing its prey.
Like it was rejecting or even devouring its wearer!
"Shit!" Alaric cursed.
Alaric gasped as he struggled to remove the now seriously ill-fitting armor, deciding it was a bad idea to even think he could use this ancient technology. But no matter how hard he yanked or tugged, the armor would not shift and pain erupted whenever he tried. It felt as if the armor had somehow grafted itself to his skin and was forcing its way into his flesh. He couldn't even find where the different segments even join. He soon found to his horror that he couldn't breath. His chest was being constricted as the armor tightened the vice as he clawed at the helmet, desperately trying to get it off.
Alaric looked up and he saw the hawk sitting on the pillar that the dead Spartan was propped against.
"Get this... off me!" Alaric yelled to the hawk.
The hawk, rather ominously, was simply watching his plight from its perch. It merely stretched out its shimmering wings casually as Alaric struggled.
"What...you..." Alaric choked before his lost his balance.
Alaric fell to the ground with a loud metallic thud down the steps and clattered against the stone floor as he felt his entire body go limp. His nerves were being suffocated and his body going numb. His vision was starting to blacken and he struggled to keep conscious. And he felt sure the armor was now crushing his skull.
Alaric could see, with his fading sight, the hawk was now sitting on the rim of the sarcophagus, just watching him with a cocked head. It wasn't doing anything to help him; rather it was waiting for something to happen to him.
And something did happen.
A surge of power coursed through Alaric as the amour's decoration glowed brilliantly, causing him to convulse. Alaric let out a loud yell that resonated throughout the entire chamber as he felt the sharp piercing burn flow through his body. The ornamentation of the armor flashed brilliantly to life as a lightning storm erupted around him, lashing out at the nearby stonework.
The hawk remained unmoved as its eyes glowed bright in unison.
Then as suddenly as it started, the lightning ceased, the pain stopped and Alaric found that he could breathe again. He took several deep breaths, getting precious oxygen back in his starved lungs as he calmed himself down.
The ornamentation on the armor dimmed and flickered out. Alaric was perfectly still as he quickly made his mind up.
Right, he thought. I'd rather go buck naked in the snow than wear this!
That was until he felt something. And it wasn't the freezing cold but much overdue warmth. In fact, the armor was now thoroughly keeping him at an optimal temperature for the environment.
Alaric was slightly comforted from the sudden sensation of warmth. But he wasn't going to let his guard down just yet.
Alaric gingerly picked himself up, expecting the armor to react again. However, after getting to his feet, his concern over a crushing death was averted. He conducted a quick self examination, patting himself down and saw that nothing was out of place. In fact, he saw that the undersuit had formed perfectly around the muscles and contours of his body. The plating and the robes was still disproportionate but they fitted perfectly.
He felt his head, feeling the long metal dreadlocks rattle as he brushed his fingers through them. And as he felt them, he found that they had actually molded to his hair perfectly.
He took a step forward and found that he wasn't as impaired as before. The armor plating was moving in sync with his muscles and the undersuit was not shifting against his skin but was now perfectly formed to his skin.
It was indeed like a second skin.
He let out a tense sigh of relief.
"Well, this is... good so far." Alaric said his voice now synthesized by the helmet's audio systems. "I'm still in one piece, nothing out of line. First bit of good news."
Alaric heard the hawk give out a call and he watched it fly around the chamber, darting between pillars with finesse, leaving a trail from its glowing feathers.
It was celebrating.
"All right." Alaric asked the hawk as it fluttered down to his feet. "Since I nearly died a few moments ago, what the hell did I just go through?"
"Bond established." a synthesized but oddly familiar voice said. "Wearer's profile accepted. Bloodline descendant: Direct."
Alaric paused when he heard that. The voice was coming from the suit itself via its comms.
"Body Structure: ooman" the voice said. "Adapting form."
Alaric suddenly heard the rapid shifting and click-clacking of armor plates and he felt that the suit actually changing on his body. The suit shifted and molded seamlessly, almost like the metal was organic, to his form, shifting into armor that was more of human build. Alaric looked down to his legs and his hands and he saw the greaves become like those of the Spartans. The segmented cuirass shifted into a metallic linothorax cuirass, segmented plates clicking into position and taking shape of the characteristic armor with the lower armored pturgeas reaching down to his knees from the belt that had reformed. The gauntlets transformed in tune, perfectly molding around his arms and hands and geometrically mimicking the muscles within.
The robes on the other hand, glowed into a bright light and reformed into a long flowing cloak of crimson and a long tunic under the linothorax.
He saw a reflective panel in time to see the mask take on a new form.
The mask was shifting into a fully enclosed helmet, the Yautja face, and dreadlocks disappearing and in its place formed the intimidating visage of a Spartan Corinthian helm. A synthetic rendition of a horsehair crest projected perfectly straight out a foot long and trailed a shining metallic ponytail down his back to his waist like his hair. And to finish it off, the lenses protecting Alaric's eyes glowed blue. And from inside the helmet, Alaric could see a runic Heads Up Display holographic project in his view. A layout of his body and the armor showed up, showing optimal status. Those disappeared shortly and were replaced by an interface that encompassed a communications system, vital signs, navigation and suit status before those faded from sight. Then, the mask highlighted his entire view, switching through various vision modes, ranging from the tradition thermal and night vision to some modes Alaric had never seen before.
This level of tech was far beyond anything Alaric had seen so far from his previous mask's interface.
Alaric also found, much to his surprise, that the even the ornamentation had changed and was now resembling his warpaint, especially on the helm with the weeping flames seeping from the eyes and a lambda symbol formed like a crown on the Corinthian mask. There were also a myriad of ancient Greek style patterns and his runes all over the armor, concentrated on his linothorax, greaves, gauntlets and helm, flashing into life.
"Adaptation complete." the voice confirmed.
He couldn't resist stroking the helmet with a finger in admiration.
Alaric looked at his armor before looking at the dead Spartan's for comparison. The armor he wore looked fit for a king himself. No doubt about that since Gri'nyr was the clan leader.
Looking closer to the left gauntlet, he could see that there was a circular pad with a geometrical pattern of circuitry in place of a wrist-comp. Alaric could only guess what it was for.
Alaric looked back down and noticed some things lying around where the armor had been resting.
Now we're talking. Alaric thought as he saw what he had needed.
Alaric reached into the sarcophagus and pulled out what looked like an inert, flawlessly crafted combistave. After several seconds in his hand, runes and indentations glowed blue. Then with a sharp click, the weapon armed and extended a thick spear head, one foot in length and six inches wide, formed at the end with a smaller counterbalancing spike at the bottom. The weapon extended to a length of ten feet, runes and indentations then glowed blue and, to Alaric's surprise, sparks of lightning were arcing up and down the spear and coiling around his hand.
"Groovy." Alaric said in amazement as the comb stick formed into the Dory spear that the Spartans wielded.
Alaric placed the dory against the sarcophagus before he reached in again and found another weapon. In its scabbard was a characteristic sword that the Spartans once wielded.
A Kopis.
Alaric picked it up gently and unsheathed it, the two foot S-shaped forward curving blade making a nice song of metal as it left the scabbard. He held the sword in his hand for a few moments, watching the light glint off the half fullered blade. The first foot of blade formed into a forward curve before the second half straightened into a rather wicked double edge point. Evidently, this blade could serve a mean stab should the opportunity arise but on the other hand, it would serve as a vicious hacking weapon. The rune decorated hilt and cross guard curved forward protecting the index and little finger like a set of brass knuckles while the back of the guard followed up the blade for six inches.
Alaric tried a few swipes and heard it whistle through the cold air before he brushed his fingers along the blade. Touch receptors in the gauntlets allowed Alaric to feel the blade as if he was using his bare hands.
The blade was so smoothed and polished and the edge so sharp that the air proved little resistance to it. Flesh and bone would likely prove to be no deterrent too.
"Brilliant." Alaric said, sheathing the blade back in its scabbard
Alaric looked for a place to attach it on the suit and, experientially, placed it behind on his hip, grip to his right. Much to his surprised, the scabbard sharply connected to the belt and there was a slight buzz of power. Alaric gave a scabbard a good tug and he found that it had fix securely to the belt. In fact, Alaric felt new bindings securing the Kopis to his belt.
Retractable magnetic holsters? Alaric thought as he reached for the dory.
He looked at it for a moment, trying to find the button or mechanism to retract it. However, the dory retracted on its own accord and it did so rather quickly.
Alaric at that point had another hunch. He held out the dory and thought in his head ' Activate'. The dory quickly armed itself and, with another thought 'Deactivate', the dory retracted.
Alaric cracked a smile behind the helmet's visage.
It would appear that the weapon activated on the mental command of its user.
"These Yautja knew how to make things." Alaric said in respect.
Alaric holstered the dory behind his hip with the Kopis, firmly attaching itself to his belt as the former. Alaric then picked up his axes and went about attaching to the armor. He was surprised to see that the armor had formed specially made holsters for his axes where he would normally have them. His great axe fitted nicely under the crimson cloak, serving to hide his weapon and his hand axes attached firmly to his thighs.
Alaric finished off by unlatching Razeal in its holster from his ruined armor and, after some adjusting, attached it to the linothorax where he would usually have it.
Over his heart.
He then reached down to the remains of his armor at his feet and detached the pouch that contained his tome before he attached it the belt. He was surprised when he felt the armor accommodate it at will.
Alaric looked around inside the sarcophagus some more and his shoulders drooped.
"Damn." Alaric said, straightening up. "No scythe."
He sighed before raising his head. He felt the dory and Kopis on his belt and Alaric just remembered the Spartan, Remembered that there was one thing missing.
"One last thing." he said, turning around.
Alaric headed over to claim the shield. He knelt before the honored dead, taking in the Spartan's broken form. He felt apprehensive about removing such a cherished object from its owner.
"I am sorry about this, Ancestor." he apologized, bowing his head.
Alaric started to carefully remove the Spartan's shield from his arm, taking care not to snap any appendages off. He carefully uncurled the Spartan's frozen fingers from the shield's Argive grip, ice flaking off of the creaking plating. Alaric then braced himself on the shield, getting a secure grip and gave a small twist then a tug. The shield come off with a loud solid clunk as the seal holding it to it's owner's arm gave away.
Alaric heft up the shield, turned it around to see the back, and raised a brow. Aside from the hand grip, there was no ring for his arm to go through. Where the ring would be at the centre of the shield, there was a circular pad with intricate circuitry spreading around from it like tree roots. There was also a series of plating that made up the outline of a forearm.
"Interesting." Alaric said, examining the circuitry.
Alaric looked at the Spartan's arm, and saw that the dead warrior had the same arrangement of circuitry as he did.
Alaric looked at his left gauntlet's pad and brought his arm to the back of the shield. The pad's circuitry glowed and the shield clanged suddenly on contact, making Alaric jump slightly. Power surged through the gauntlet as the shield fixed itself to his arm securely, arcs of lightning surging around the shield as the scythe and lambda emblem glowed. Then armored articulated bands shifted over his gauntlet, forming the shield rings that were missing before.
Alaric hefted the shield up and down as it dimmed out, getting accustomed to its weight. It was heavy as would be expected on his arm but it was not as heavy as he first thought. The aspis by its design was an inch thick, shallow bowl. Normally it was made of solid oak carved into shape, backed with leather, and faced with bronze plating. This one was made in the same composite style but with different metal alloys and such, whatever was chosen by the smith. And with its weight, it could serve to deliver a mean shield bash to gain some room in a fight.
Alaric gave the shield a thump with his fist and he heard a solid thunk when his armored hand connected to the shield. Alaric saw also that when his fist impacted the metal, the shield glowed blue in that spot and a small flash of sparks was seen.
Alaric was intrigued from this sight and for further clarification; he picked up piece of his ruined armor at his feet. He chucked it up into the air and then swatted it with his shield. The shield flashed as at impacted the metal fragment and it was smacked far and fast, impacted the far wall with a loud metallic ping.
Alaric lowered the shield as arcs of energy swirled around it before vanishing.
Energy shielding, he thought with awe.
That was when he heard something that stopped his admiration.
"Getting all armored up are we?" A voice said, in English oddly, snapping Alaric out of his amazement.
Alaric looked up and, much to his shock and surprise, he saw a misty apparition of Gri'nyr, in his armor and a pale blue aura burning around him, sitting on the rim of the sarcophagus. It was enough to make Alaric fall back with a loud clatter of armor plating against the stone pillar, being held up by his great axe.
More so because he hadn't had any blinding pain in his head before hand.
Gri'nyr simply tilted his head at Alaric's reaction, his dreadlocks trailing down onto the stone steps.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Gri'nyr joked, before indicating to the blood on the floor. "I apologize about the mess but it couldn't be helped."
Alaric was silent, not knowing what to make of this sight. Gri'nyr gave Alaric a look over and he seemed pleased about it.
"I see that my armor hasn't killed you." Gri'nyr said pointing at the armor that Alaric wore. Before noticing the axes. "And my axes are on your person. So, you must indeed be one of our bloodline." he concluded.
He than stood up before he straightened his robes and his dreadlocks.
"In that momentous case, I have a message to tell you." he added.
He then cleared his throat, like he had been rehearsing for this moment.
"At long last, one of our bloodline has returned." he started. "As was foretold in the Annals of Fate."
He then slowly paced from end of the sarcophagus to the other and back again.
"For generations we, the bloodline of our progenitor Cetanu, have fought the Primarchs and their kin. The Ossian's successors and killers." he said as he walked. "We alone had the strength and courage to do so, losing many of our blood and many of our closest allies. Our task was almost complete, but we were betrayed by our bitter and cowardly rivals, those who feared and envied us for what we were. Our clan was destroyed, our people and our closest allies slaughtered, our homeworld stolen from us and our memory scrubbed from our race's history. Those of us left are being hunted down like prey even as this message plays. We can only hope that one of our line would rise up and avenge us from this betrayal. And now, our hope has been fulfilled."
He stopped pacing, waiting for Alaric to respond.
Alaric was still silent from shock from what he was seeing.
"Is it good?" Gri'nyr asked. "I had the last few millennia to work on it, not much else to do inside there." Gri'nyr quipped, gesturing to the sarcophagus. "And the bit about the annals was improvised. I never read them, wasn't allowed to."
Alaric shook himself out of his shock, trying to clear his head as he removed his helmet.
"Okay." Alaric awkwardly said, getting back on his feet.
He then gave his head a few taps and waving his hand in front of his eyes, making sure he wasn't hallucinating again.
"Blinding flashes haven't occurred." Alaric muttered to himself. "And I'm not freezing any more. Must be real this time."
Alaric took a breath.
"Are you some kind of... ghost?" Alaric asked Gri'nyr.
Gri'nyr leaned nonchalantly against the sarcophagus.
"Me?" he questioned before he gave a curt laugh. "In a way. I am a fragment of my consciousness, housed within the armor and, at the moment, out of it." he then made a little gesture. "Think of me as… an A.I construct."
So far, so good. Alaric thought. Something plausible, finally.
"So... where did your body go?" Alaric asked, pointing at the sarcophagus. "I mean I couldn't find anything organic, or what had been organic, in there."
Gri'nyr looked back into the empty sarcophagus.
"My body has already joined the Ancestors." Gri'nyr said, before resuming his attention to Alaric. "My purpose now is to guide the one who will avenge our line. Only then will I be able to fully join the Progenitor." he then made a gesture that seemed malevolent "Make those who took everything from us pay."
He then caught eyes on the Spartan propped against the pillar.
"He was one of my closest friends." Gri'nyr said, remorsefully. "A true warrior to the end. His fate was better than the rest of his comrades."
Alaric could sympathize with that. Compared to being torn apart by one of those bugs, this was more preferable.
"Why did your armor change form after nearly killing me?" Alaric asked.
Gri'nyr looked slightly puzzled from Alaric's question.
"The armor that you now wear one belonged to me, as it belonged to my father and those before him." Gri'nyr revealed. "In our clan, a warrior's armor is not just protection; it is an extension of one's self. Hence, the armor is what you feel it to be and what you choose to be."
Alaric was silent, with a blank look that showed that this wasn't registering with him.
"It changed to reflect your Spartan heritage. Something that you hold dear." Gri'nyr clarified. "Much of how our items gain strength is that it comes from all who came before." Gri'nyr explained. "Such items are treasured among our clan, a tangible link to the ancestors and our progenitor."
Alaric was still silent.
"All of this you already understand, of course." Gri'nyr stated with a confidant tone.
"No." Alaric said, with slight apprehension.
A long pause filled the room as Gri'nyr's shoulders drooped in surprise. It was almost as if he was dumbfounded by Alaric's response. Gri'nyr then made a comical gesture of clearing his ears.
"What?" Gri'nyr said, at a loss from Alaric's answer. "Alert me if I'm wrong but, since you're here, you do know how our clan was wiped out, don't you?" he sincerely asked.
"Our clan?" Alaric questioned before he scoffed. "I don't know about you Yautja, but the Mongols had murdered Grimnir's family after he was betrayed."
Gri'nyr cocked his head in confusion. Like he had trouble believing what Alaric said.
"Mongols?" Gri'nyr queried, enunciating the word, before he realized what Alaric meant. "You mean those scattered tribes of horseman from the eastern steppes of your world? What gave you that assumption?" He then scoffed. "And, more importantly, why a bastardized version of my name?"
"Your name?" Alaric asked before he gave a condescending chuckle. "I'm sorry, but Grimnir was a human last time I checked."
Gri'nyr after giving some thought, wagged a finger in realization as he put the pieces together.
"Ah, I see." he said, with a slight laugh "You haven't been initiated into the forgotten history of our clan. The Tome would've been cryptic to prevent interpretation from the enemy."
Alaric's grin was swiftly wiped from his face when he heard that. He subconsciously reached for the pouch in which his tome was kept.
"The Tome." Gri'nyr repeated. "You know, leather bound with our clan symbol on it?" He then pointed. "And, from the way you're reacting, the Tome is on your person."
Alaric reached for his tome, bringing it out into view. Gri'nyr nodded when he saw it.
"That's it." Gri'nyr asked, stepping closer. "Bring it here."
Alaric held it out.
"Open it." Gri'nyr asked.
Alaric flicked it open to a random page, one which had both runic script and illustrations, and Gri'nyr nodded after he read the runes for a few seconds.
"That is Tse'los's penmanship." Gri'nyr confirmed. "Everything is changed to human history but the truth is still there. And he was quite an artist too."
He looked up to Alaric as he remembered something that he had been desperate to know.
"How is the clan, by the way?" he asked with hope. "Did you eventually regroup after the betrayal?"
"Regroup?" Alaric questioned, placing his tome back in its pouch. "I don't know what you're talking about but I am the only survivor of my family."
Gri'nyr stood back up, almost in shock.
"The only one?" he asked in disbelief.
"Well, unless you count my son." Alaric clarified. "He's dead, along with his mother. Murdered by Yautja, who had been trying to kill me since I was a kid."
Gri'nyr looked almost devastated.
"Those cowards are still after our line after all these centuries?" Gri'nyr said, with shock laced with anger. "That bastard is devoted to getting what he wants." he then cupped his chin in thought. "Maybe the others didn't get away." he shook his head. "No, You're here, so that means they did escape. They may be hiding."
Gri'nyr looked to the discarded armor pile next to his tome. He could make out the tribal patterns from what was left of the plating. He sighed.
"Hard to believe that the Yautja could have fallen so far from grace." he said, sadly. "All because of racial pride. A once proud people reduced to a primal conglomeration of tribes."
"If by primal you mean ripping heads off anything they deem sporting, yes they are primal." Alaric said. "Then again, I'd imagined that you and your group might have done the same too."
Gri'nyr laughed sharply at that comparison. Alaric raised a brow from this reaction the ghost gave.
"Is that anyway to speak of your ancestors?" Gri'nyr asked, mockingly hurt at the prospect. "Using such a primitive comparison?"
Alaric rolled his eyes as Gri'nyr brought up the ancestors stuff again.
"There you go again." He exasperatedly said, his patience about it wearing thin. "My ancestors are those Spartans." Alaric hotly declared, pointing to the Spartan's corpse "I am a human being. Not a Yautja! Fact!"
Gri'nyr ominously stood up straight. It would seem that he wasn't fooling around any more about this ancestors business. And he was evidently at his end with Alaric.
"Maybe." Gri'nyr pointed out. "But, given the circumstances, even a Spartan wouldn't be able to wear my armor and survive the bonding you went through. Blood binding doesn't work that way."
Gri'nyr walked up to Alaric, stopping a mere foot from him. Alaric wasn't intimidated by the display of authority.
"You would have to be one of my descendants to wear my armor." Gri'nyr said, reaching for his mask. "One of my blood. One of our blood!"
Gri'nyr reached for his mask; the ornate decorations inscribed upon it glowed as he touched the metal. Gri'nyr lowered his mask and Alaric saw a stark change that he was not expecting. Something that stood out from the ghostly apparition.
Gri'nyr indeed had a Yautja face, though completely lacking the head crest. His dreadlocks were arranged very much like a human's hair, with a style that mimicked Alaric's own hair. And more than anything else, Gri'nyr's eyes were exactly the same as Alaric's.
A dark ruby red.
Alaric stepped back. He was completely taken by surprise from what he saw. so much that he had dropped the Corinthian helm and it impacted the stone floor with a loud metallic thud.
"How are your eyes..." Alaric started.
"My youngest son survived after all." Gri'nyr said, his eyes flashing into a bright crimson. "Is this enough confirmation?" he asked pointing at his eyes as his dreadlocks stood up into a spiked mane.
Alaric blinked in shocking surprise.
This Yautja had the Rage as he did?
"How can..." Alaric gasped.
"Ever wondered why you and your family always had these eyes when no other oomans ever did?" Gri'nyr continued. "Ever wondered how such a feature could survive many generations as strong as the first? Ever wondered how you could harness incredible strength, far more than any ooman, whenever your need was dire?"
And, to round it all off, Gri'nyr decided to drop a bombshell.
"How is it you could see the visions of our forgotten past, our forgotten battle, on your way here?" he said, looking up with his eyes before dropping said bombshell. "And led by a silver hawk if I'm not mistaken."
That was the clincher in this argument.
Alaric looked around for the hawk from where Gri'nyr was looking but it was nowhere to be seen.
Alaric was processing what he had heard, putting all the similarities together. To his knowledge, outside his family line, no other human had these characteristics. The slayer tongue, though partly ancient Greek was wholly unique to him alone. Yet, these Yautja and the Spartans were speaking the same language like they had always been speaking it. Maybe the dwarves understood it as well. Plus, the runes in his tome are the same as the ones in this temple.
And how did Gri'nyr know about the hawk?
Was the hawk his pet that Kas'tigyr had mentioned?
The pieces than connected inside Alaric's head.
"Are you saying... you're my ancestor!?" Alaric concluded in disbelief.
Gri'nyr laconically clapped his hands.
"I thought my bastardized name already established that." Gri'nyr reminded. "And yes, this is a lot to take in."
'A lot to take in' wasn't exactly what Alaric was going through.
Alaric held his head, thinking of some way to deny the possibility. He became flustered as his eyes darted from side to side, his breathing became erratic and his hands ran through his hair, tugging it on every stroke.
Gri'nyr's expression soon turned to concern from Alaric's reaction.
"You really didn't know?" Gri'nyr questioned with concern. "Your father didn't tell you?"
Alaric was still being erratic and the mention of his father made him snap.
"It's not possible!" Alaric declared. "I don't look anything like you!"
Gri'nyr laconically chuckled.
"Denial." Gri'nyr said dryly, placing his mask back on as his dreadlocks fanned back down. "Very ooman trait. We've already established that we have the same eyes, same hair, so to speak, and have our progenitor's power flowing within us."
"Bullshit!" Alaric replied in defiance. "Does it look like I have mandibles?!" Alaric questioned, pointing at his mouth and than his hair "Do I have tubes for hair?! You're not my ancestor!"
Gri'nyr wasn't at all concerned about Alaric's insistence on the matter. He just gave a laugh laced with irony.
"It's amazing how many generations it takes between my time and yours for you to act like that." Gri'nyr remarked. "I don't know the reason for you not knowing the truth, but trying to tell you everything will take up too much of what little time you have." Gri'nyr stated, raising his hands. "It's much simpler if I showed you."
"Show me?" Alaric spat in disbelief. "This place has been fucking up my head long enough!"
Alaric swiped out a fist to try and dissipate Gri'nyr and rid himself of this now decided hallucination, but he was in for a shocking surprise.
Gri'nyr actually caught Alaric's fist in his hand with an audible smack. Alaric was so shocked by this revelation that he didn't resist at all.
A ghost, if you could call Gri'nyr that, had caught his fist.
"What the...?" Alaric stammered.
"Is this real enough for you?" Gri'nyr asked.
Gri'nyr lowered Alaric's hand.
"Descendant." Gri'nyr commanded. "Listen carefully."
Alaric in the meantime, regained his senses and struggled to get free. Gri'nyr kept him in his grasp as tendrils of light encircled Alaric's hand.
"Choice is a factor in this matter." he explained, firmly keeping his grip on Alaric. "Here and now, you can choose to accept what I am about to show you or not. But, regardless of what you believe, our Progenitor runs through our blood. We all bear a shard of him within ourselves. And you will have to face it sooner or later. You'll never learn to control our Progenitor's power until you accept that he is a part of you."
"Get off me!" Alaric demanded. "I don't believe any of this! I cannot be descended from a Yautja!"
"No. Something far more." Gri'nyr corrected. "Now, back to a more important matter."
Gri'nyr gave a curt but slightly ominous chuckle.
"This may feel a little strange." he said, raising his free hand towards Alaric's head.
The aura surrounding Gri'nyr flared into life brightening the entire chamber. And, from what Alaric could make out, the flames on Gri'nyr's back were taking on the rough shape of wings.
Alaric had a feeling that he had seen something like this in the past. Then he remembered when he was thirteen.
The Ghost that saved his life from a psychotic Xeno extremist patriarch.
Alaric was now losing his cool from what Gri'nyr was doing.
"What are you doing?!" Alaric demanded.
"Open your mind." Gri'nyr advised, as his hand flashed with bright light.
That was when a sharp pain erupted in Alaric's head, causing him to grab his head and strain against the intense tide as Gri'nyr disappeared like a dying flame. Alaric eyes were aflame with blue fire as he yelled out aloud with unimagined pain against a sensation that drove right into his very being.
Like what the armor did before but far more painful. Almost like it was burning right into his soul.
"What have you done?!" Alaric strained through his teeth as he tried to fight the pain. "My head!"
It felt like his head was going to explode the harder he tried to fight it. Covering his eyes proved futile as the blue flames slipped through his fingers. However, these were not flames in the literal sense as they did not burn.
"Open your mind." Gri'nyr's voice commanded from within Alaric's head.
That was enough for Alaric to lose his concentration to fight for a second but that was more then enough.
Alaric's eyes flashed into a more intense flame that generated a swirling fire storm around his head. And just as quickly, the flames died out. And that was when he collapsed hard into the stone pillar with a loud clatter of armor plating before sliding into a heap. Alaric had passed out before he hit the ground, his vacant eyes still burning with blue flame from within. Were it not for his ragged breathing, he might have been mistaken for dead.
The hawk at this point flew down from it's hiding place and landed next to the comatose Alaric, nestled itself next to his head and it's eyes glowed as the light in it's metallic feathers rippled, keeping a watchful eye over his unconscious form.