Travelling towards the City of Doors was circuitous route, or at least this route was, for the League expedition that Tarvek was on as they passed through three separate planes of existence. They were empty worlds, near earths, with the last one that Tarvek and the caravan had passed through a ruined world. Whose it had been was for the small base study, salvage, and guard teams in the hidden base there to know, if anything was known, and for Travek to learn likely many years from now. He didn't even know where the true base was, as the brief refuge and rest stop that they had spent a night in before they'd departed for the Outlands, or the Weirdlands as other called them.
Tarvek himself, as a good orc shaman, fell into that category as the place was unnerving as even Sasha, their elf mage-medicus agreed.
There was always the giant mountain reaching up into the sky.
There was always the great silvery 'donut' ring surrounded by clouds.
There was always the vast expanse of flat valley rising up that slope, forested and with rivers.
None of it was real.
All of it was real.
Iterations upon iterations of realities meshing and overlapping, then ceasing to be, replaced and moved, the very building blocks of reality being unreal. It unnerved walked upon such ground, for there was no ground here, no gods or science or true Truth, just…
There was a valley. With a forest. With a mountain to climb. With the City of Doors atop it.
Yet it was never exactly the same from moment to moment. It was not even exactly the same to each of their eyes in the caravan, and standing watch was something that was done in shifts…for actively watching was painful when focusing upon such things. For it was best to actively ignore it as senior planeswalkers of the League informed them in training, as madness was but one potential, unfortunate, outcome to immersing your awareness too much in such things. So standing guard for the caravan was, to say the least, an unpleasant sensation in the brief, alternating, shifts they must take; and the entirety of the time spent on guard as the nearer they got to their destination the less things worked. From magic to technology as sensors failed on Tarvek's power armour and his own strength was increasingly required to move at the needed pace.
They were six wagons, surrounded by humans, or, like himself, fake humans of another place and time, moving up the muddy trail-that-did-not-exist, misty fog upon the trees and steppe that was equally unreal. All while Tarvek reminded himself that it was real, and biting down on the urge to draw out his multiversal compass to reassure of himself of that fact. For, well, it would NOT do such a thing as he went through a weapon's check for the billionth time to keep his mind off the horror of unreality, and what he might or might not see. No conversation was engaged along the line of two dozen guards and merchants, beyond orders, or confirmations of actions as now was not the time for such things.
Tarvek himself stood above the others, along with his friend Krull, in their heavy power armour of bright blue with odd symbols on them. In his hands he held the heavy weapon system, the weapon feed extending into the now increasingly heavy ammunition pack upon his back as they ascended the false-mountain-forest. It was frustrating, and exhausting, to feel the magic and higher energy state systems go-offline gradual, weakening as the moved…but that was the job he'd signed up for. And Travek was proud of his strength as he maintained his position at the mid-rear of the formation as Krull took the mid-forward spot as the watch order changed yet again amongst the 'Imperial Guardsmen' for the usual mental health concerns. He grimaced, glancing up and judging they still had a long way to go. Then down.
For there was no sky, just the illusion of one. One he was naturally better at seeing through than others.
Good at times. Not now though. Now it was physically distressing if he focused too much.
'Then. Again. Rounds…Full. Track system; still active, not yet over threshold…"
"CONTACT LEFT!" came the shout from ahead from one of the watchers, and training kicked in for Tarvek as he immediately switched every functional system to Active, then turned to guarding the RIGHT initially while the others went LEFT "MULTIPLE…"
Then there was the sound of battle, violence, and not-quite human or orc shouts and roars. Shapes emerged from the unreality forest, charging at them as Tarvek did a full check as an order came over the barely functioning TacNEt…
Before shifting back to the LEFT flank as the right was confirmed clear. Flanking ambushes were damned near impossible in this place, and if they were to attack they had to be within a few seconds of other attacks…else reality shifting would distort time space within the iteration. For the unleashing of energy, as battle now erupted, was not good for reality, real or unreal, in this unreality. Low energy relatively speaking, as they were all limited to, at best, Tier Three spells, which were beyond Tarvek's spellcasting level anyway, as well as to cruder, simpler, munitions and no sensors beyond audio-only TacNet. Krull was already unleashing his fury, the trees and foliage from which foes charged exploding…
Yet being undamaged in sight as the whole area flickered and distorted as humanoid figures charged out with melee weapons and pistol-like guns. They were tall, grey-skinned, with odd, coloured eyes, and ears that likely meant they were some sort of elves he made with a snap judgement as he visually observed, then aimed his heavy repeating machinegun-shotgun at them and began to pull the trigger. Their attackers were clearly bandits, seeking out their caravan's cargo, and wore dull grey armour with various unknowable, unreadable, sigils upon it. The words shouted from their mouths were unintelligible here, as translation magic had already temporarily failed at these heights of the unreal-mountain.
No words were needed in truth. Actions made them the enemy. And his actions spoke as loud as his comrades-in-arms Tarvek believed.
Bullets, or equivalent to such, impacted his blue armour as stomped forward, serving as shield for three other pathfinders in lighter armour that served to guard the rear wagon. Sasha amongst them, the elf unleashing a weak blast of fire while to his right the crimson robe clad in human disguise gnome Isuriel's tentacle arms emerged with blades for melee. That he barely noticed, or paid attention too, as his gun moved and bucked in his arms….the heads of one, then two, attackers exploding into gory bits of crystalline bone and oddly hued, multi-coloured liquid. Blood he assumed, but it was hard to know for sure as didn't have time to process as a heavy impact drove him backwards a step, then another…
Still, he answered in kind, and another attacker died as he did so with one hand now, needing his left hand and arm free to deflect a blow as one of the screaming, shrieking, not-humans, maybe-elves, did a leaping attack with a blade. Sparks exploded from his armoured left arm as the strangely shaped crescent blade squealed noisily, yet momentarily, along said arm in the moments before his heavy weapon moved, shifting upwards…
Then roaring in repeating blasts that shifted him back a little, towards the wagon, even as the shells hit the female looking attacker one after another at the waist, blasting through her as the shells marched up her body in a moment time seemed to slow. Tarvek almost watched her disintegrate, or perhaps become a series of multicoloured circles in mid air as she went from living to not-living in mere moments. Like one of those human tapes catching and going wrong in the cinema-place….only to snap back to reality moments later as Tarvek's body on its own. The left hand catching the falling legs of the now upper body-less enemy, and throwing the remaining lower-body into the nearest charging idiot as the fight went wrong.
Along the line the fight was going well….
"Die!" save at the rear, where he was, as dozens of the freaks charged forward, managing to get close with a combination of actual shields and using the first wave of fools as meat-shields. The nearest pathfinder in the garb of a guardsman took a slash to the right arm, cutting it off in one swing as Tarvek stepped in and was forced into close quarters combat. The CQC of power armoured first punching off unknown alien's head in retaliation as the now screaming in shock fellow guard stumbled backwards…
Only for multiple attackers to try swarm Tarvek and the wagon, where an injured Sasha had fallen into he saw as he tried to throw off one such swarmer. Instead he simply crushed the fool's head with his fist, systems starting to give alerts and take damage as they pinned down his gun arm somehow. Magical strength? Technology?
…and then it did not matter as he punched and punched till it was freed, trying to raise up his weapon as he saw one of them charging forward with two others holding shields up. Carrying something. What it was, he did not know for sure, save that it wasn't good in any way, hating as the shells impacted *off* the shield, or damaged it only rather than obliterating it, as the foes went after the wagon. There was no time as his legs were impeded, and defence was impossible for the wagon. The wagon was not as important anyway, not against the lives of his comrades. Still firing, though failing, Tarvek moved without much thought, liquid covered free hand grabbing an injured elven form, then hurling Sasha into Isuriel's cyborg false body to get clear as the shouting, perhaps, chanting, shielded group charged into the wagon.
"RAAAHHHHH!" was all he could roar at the bastards as the multicoloured device with flickering lights was pressed down into the wagon, but mostly because while the fuckers had succeeded….
The head of their mage exploded almost at the same time…
Then reality gave way beneath him and the attackers…
Falling….
He was falling….
Tarvek reached up in shock, or perhaps on instinct, as he and other bodies fell through a void while a circle seemed to be above him. The wagon was falling with them, and he could only assume this was not their plan as his system reactivated as they fellow out of the Weirdlands, the Outlands, into the void between voids, and his systems screamed alarm after alarm in those brief moments. But even as his suit's systems came back to full activation and function there was a hissing, shrieking, static as shields warred with encroaching unreality and the pull of dimensions unknown. Around him the falling bodies of the attackers were moving, some screaming, and others moved to attack him, even now, and, tumbling in mid-air through a void without gravity, yet still falling, Tarvek activatied his weapon once again, while drawing out his dagger and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing….
Till he fell through an actual sky, before slamming into hard ground, pain becoming his world for a moment till darkness consumed him…
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