This is my fanfic, it was started before you could migrate your account to Steam. I migrated my account and so I cant move or do anything now that my name has changed. Dont like that? Tough cookies. =)
The Stars that I Know”
Its nighttime in the clockworks and the ever present hum and movement of the world beneath us reverberates through my body as I sit. Distant beams from the Gremlin Munitions Factory light up the sky. The smell of ash and grape jelly is carried by the wind across the bulwarks and towers that defend Haven and here I sit, amongst other Spiral Knights in a glorified ditch staring across an irradiated wasteland, of twisted mechanical parts, and the forms of broken Gremlins and Knights. My eyes drift shut, and for a moment I dream.
I dream about the stars I saw when I was young. I dream about the familiar constellations of stars of my lost home. I dream of the familiar things that comforted me. I dream of the wings of the Kingfisher that sweep across the sky breaking it free from the inky canvas of night as it soars around the star Cygnus X1; Cygnus X1 which glimmers in the center of the Celestial Guard’s shield as he stands between the accretion disc of Centarus A and the rest of the galaxy. His hand clutched around the constellation Argentes as he prepares to fire into the darkness. I see the flowing veils of the divine maiden, which in my dreams shimmer with a brilliance that accentuates their divinity. In this dream I see the darkness coalescing and warping around Faust’s blades as he stands vigil beside the Celestial Guard. The four stars that makes up his arm raises and he points. Both Faust and the Celestial Guard look and marching towards them are twisted shapes, cubes of gelatinous strength, trees of iron and red wood shambling towards them. I dream in this dream of charred and burnt corpses of things long dead, the glowing phosphorescent silhouettes of butterflies. I see the Celestian Guard raise his Argentes and fire amongst the oncoming tide. From the barrel of his weapon stars are flung forth and amidst their ranks the stars supernova, yet their tide continues unabated, undiminished and still ever determined! The enemy horde undeterred advances, the very universe begins to shake. Stars glittering begin falling from the sky. I can feel the vibration now…..
My conscious mind begins to awaken from its slight reverie as it can no longer correlate what my body is feeling with my dream. It begins to wake me, the falling stars are flares launched from Haven to illuminate the irradiated wasteland. Still groggy I hear a voice, “Weapons at the Ready!” Coming to my feet I drive the tip of my Crest of Almire into the wall of the trench in front of me. “Hold your FIRE!” I feel my own lips forming out the words as I blink the sleep from my eyes. My own version of the Argentes is pressed down on the rim of the shield to steady my shots. I see shadows moving, darting hither and yon. Wolvers……moving quick, “Pulsars! NOW!” I hear myself shout.
All along the trench a cacophonous roar of energy discharges spew forth in a wall of pure of malice. The orbs of energy swell with murderous intent as they sally forth. Then in unison they all burst their hateful rage upon the ground. The wild yelps of wolvers in pain are drowned out by the relentless barrage and everywhere the exploding malice begins flinging wolver parts across the field, Sharp Fangs, Bushy Tails, Monster Bones are raining down everywhere. It continues like this as Spiral Knights fire their weapons well past the overheating point. The rhythm of battle begins to change, the line of explosions begins to waver.
Tinted optics that had covered my eyes when the initial bombardment began, digitally silhouettes trees through the bright explosions. The shambling trees have entered no man’s land. “All Weapons FIRE!” The darkness of night is shattered by tens of thousands of stars flung forth from the Spiral Knight’s line. As Callahans, Sentenzas, Alchemers and their brethren open fire. The steady pulse of massed weapons fire begins to slacken testament to wolvers that have broken through the hail of gunfire.
A wolver explodes from the ground near me, it savages a fellow Knight. Leaving my shield buried where it is I draw my Final Flourish as it lunges at me. I spear the fast animal through its gaping jaws pinning it into the ground, the beaming tip of my Argent Peacemaker jams into its eye. Instantly I can smell the scent of charred flesh from the white hot tip of the barrel, which is followed by the scent of offal as a deluge of rounds penetrate through its tiny cranial vault and exits out its body. All across the line blades have been drawn and Knights are charging forth into no man’s land to deal with the horde in melee combat.
Leaving the flourish impaling the ghastly remains of the wolver, I pull my shield from its temporary dirt support and charge into fray. The next moments are awash in indigo ghost trails of my Gran Faust blade swinging amongst the non-shielded gremlins. The gleaming purple blade parts their flesh exposing their entrails in wide sweeping strokes. Then as suddenly as it began it ends as the horde is defeated. I’m stunned for a moment, as my eyes dart about looking for something new to sweep into the afterlife.
There’s a half hearted cheer that dies. The Spiral Knights who were the best of the best on the Skylark sully their armor and gloves as they go about the grisly joy of collecting materials. Ribs are pulled from the charred husk of undead. Piles of Sharp Fangs appear as pliers are used on the mandibles of wolvers. Amidst this barbaric carnage I begin to make my way slowly across no man’s land to my little hovel in the dirt, I stop and gaze into a bright point of light in the ground. A Flare? No….. it is a Spark of Life. Reaching down I hold what was once a creatures spirit. This brilliant beautiful immutable representation of life that I hold in my hand, I ripped from its mortal coil, is worth a profit now……
“Captain Ser, you’re not going to take that?” I toss the Spark towards the Knight, “Take it nublet I no longer have a taste for what the reaper gives us. It is yours.” My eyes do not need to gaze upon him to know that he is young to the order, itching to prove himself and gain accolades, Itching to wield ever more destructive weaponry. My footsteps carry me to the lip of the trench. As I look over it, I meet the barrel of my own Argent Peacemaker.
It’s held by a small tier 1 gremlin. I can see it does not have long to live. Its left eye looks like it has been mangled by a blow from a thwack hammer. The indentations running superior to the crushed ocular orbit confirms my suspicions. The barrel is twitching its remaining good eye has an empty murderous stare. Click, it pulls the trigger, it pulls the trigger again and again, the double action hammer slamming down against the cylinder containing the ammunition. Smiling, I tell the gremlin, “The Antigua line is an ancient series of firearms. It uses an inefficient form of propellant. Which cause a carbon build up that can sometimes foul the hammer of the weapon.” It has no comprehension of the information I just told it, what it does comprehend is that it can not harm me, it will not have victory over me. I drop my shield. Its eye looks down following the shield. Distracted now, I grasp the barrel of the Peacemaker pulling the gremlin forward and allowing its own weight and momentum to drive itself into the tip of my Faust. The blade grinds against the lowest intracostal rib which deflects it down through its organs to scrap grindingly across the iliac crest of its hip before exiting through its back. I let the body now acting as a scabbard for my Gran Faust fall to the ground. Whereupon I sit between my grisly trophies.
Looking at the wolver head with the Flourish holding it in place I ask. “Why do you still fight us?” Its only response is to drip coagulating goblets of blood intermixed with brain matter, through the gaping hole in its cranial vault. Turning to the small tier 1 gremlin with my Gran Faust impaled through its body, “You will only know defeat at our hands. There will be no victory for you.” It replies by staring blankly through its eye at the sky and the stars. I gaze up for a moment as the darkness descends on the trenches. These strange stars offer no comfort, nor do they offer any stories of heroes that have passed into myth and legend. Looking on them now only reinforces the lonely fact that I am not home. Beside me the Equestrian contingent I lead begins to return to their places at the trenches. As I stand on the precipice of dreams I can see the Kingfisher beginning her flight towards Cygnus again and the melancholy of being lost and alone wanes just as long as I can see the Stars that I know.
The incessant patter of rain drenches Haven. In the central cluster near the Auction House, the crystal drops collect on the blades of grass. The collected drops combine and drip atop the cobblestones and slip away as clean as when they formed in the sky. While elsewhere where the sounds of the whistling sound of the gremlin forge breaks the patter of the rain, the gutters fill with the broken dirty bits of life. Half drank canisters of fermented flowers, the remnants of a night of joy. There bobbing in the clogged drain a warped hydro spanner, the final resting spot of some poor Spiral Knight’s lifelong dream. There in the wash, foaming with the collected dirt of Haven, a discarded pennant. The pennant might have been waved over some victorious battle, or been held by someone with dreams of victory, honor and lifelong service to Spiral Command. Here, now it floats, its colors muted by the dirt washed into it by the rain. Here it rests dishonored, reflecting the red light from a light tower that has since lost the luster that it once carried.
In this muted red darkness Valivarre sits, his eyes watching the rain distorted through the murky contents of his upheld glass. Littering the ground about him discarded haphazardly empty bottles of the foul drink of his choice. A wheezing cough bursts from Ser Valivarre, and some of the murky liquid falls atop the battered steel of his table preceding a think coil of smoke as the substance scars the table. He lifting the cup again to stare at the flashing light. The cup held in his hand shakes, while his vision blur. A gremlin whistles pierces the night, and he’s making his way towards the escape hatch. The calm over head voice speaks without regard to the terrible message it gives, “All hands to escape pods. All hands to escape pods. This is not a drill.” In his drunken stupor the glass shakes, to the motion of the Skylark’s last moments. Through the glass he sees the distorted view of a Spiral Knight glistening in resplendent armor, while his inebriated mind translates it into the cowering form of a Spiral Knight on Skylark clutching a wall he shouts, “COWARD!” Then, Valivarre in his daze finds himself crashing towards the new world. There’s a flash of pain as his face hits the pavement followed by pressure on the back of his skull.
“This is your ace in the hold? Certainly Lord Knight Commander this cannot be him! This Knight is a drunkard! Who has not bathed in weeks, look sir! He still wears the uniform from his court martial! Its turned a disgusting yellow from the grime but it Is still there. Such a filthy soldier!” The pressure present in the back of his skull brings his mind back from its inebriated state, just slightly. “Get your foot off me before I insert it so hard into your face, your unborn children will feel it.” The incessant pressure became painful for a brief instant before being let up.
Pulling himself wobbly to his feet, his eyes focus on the Lord Knight Commander. “I would salute you but I seem to have misplaced my commission. So I will just go back to drinking.” Without further fuss Val found his seat and lifted the decanter in the direction of the Lord Knight Commander. “Well, now I am tempted to spit at you, but my mouth is a bit dry at the moment so I will drink to you. Long live the Lord Knight Commander may his totalitarian reign be ever oppressive!” The Lord Knight Commander, looked at one of the upturned chairs and looked pointedly at his adjutant. Valivarre’s eyes followed and a smile crossed his face, “Hi! What’s your name? Would you like a drink?” Val offered his decanter, which she pointedly ignored.
Quickly she lifted a fallen chair and dusted off the seat and offered it to the Lord Knight. With a bit of disdain in his stoic demeanor he sat opposite the drunken Valivarre. “So, Gabriel, what are you doing slumming in this neighborhood? I am fairly certain that you aren’t here to find a date. Nor are you here to enjoy the fine vintage that I have.” Val once again lifts the bottle and swigs from it. “Give me a drink of the Val. It’s been a long time since you and I drank together.” The decanter was passed, and swigged. The corners of Val’s mouth began to curl upwards. The moment the decanter was lowered Gabriel immaculate in his polished uniform curled forward and began to cough. The epaulettes upon his shoulders shook with the violence of his coughing fit. The gold buttons of his white uniform ground against the stained metal table as he hunched over it. Val’s grin broke out into a round of laughter.
Sitting beside The Lord Knight Commander Gabriel, his aide de campe, rose and began to fuss. Her own uniform a mirror of the one worn by Gabriel, with less marks of rank began to soak up the grimy dirt as she checked over him. A few more moments of coughing before it subsided and with eyes blood shot from the coughing Gabriel stared at Val. “You have the most revolting taste in drinks.”
“And you Gabriel Lord Knight Commander have the most revolting taste in military matters.” “Old friend.” Val snorted derisively. “I am not here to look in on a friend whose career I have crushed.”
“You shut your mouth Gabe, I followed you from the lofty central highlands to the depths of this forsaken new world.” Val turned his head into the street and spat, as the idea of this new world made bile rise in his throat. “without once questioning why. After all that I get in a drunken fight and in the process so what if I beat up a Knight Captain…..” “It was four, Ser Valivarre, and a squad of military peace officers.” His adjutant interrupted.
“Well whatever, they had it coming! They were from that blue blood cohort. You remember them, and that one time they came marching in and busted us out of that tight spot up in the Bitter root range?” Gabriel’s head nodded, “Yes I know them very well. I even know their Knight Captain. His tongue by the way is healing after you tried punching him in the mouth in an effort to have his teeth cut it off” Val sneered before taking another swig. “That’ll teach that worthless dairy farmer to keep his mouth shut around me.”
“Look Val, can we let sleeping dragons lie?” Gabriel had folded his hands in his lap. Val, sneered again. “If you had listened to me when I said that, up in the Bitter root back on home that dragon wouldn’t have cornered us!”
“At any rate, I hate seeing you my friend, who I have stared at death with, be like this.” Gabriel waved his hand and indicated the decripid conditions that Val now found himself in. “So I want you to take Huxley here into the clockworks to collect some data. It’s an easy milk run. Get her in and make sure her data gets back to scientists that run this show.”
Valivarre holding up the bottle to ensure that there was no more liquid in it spoke “I thought she was just a pretty aide de campe of yours.” Ignoring the open insult to the Science officer, Gabriel left a metal container on the table. “There are your orders along with a signed docket you will present to the Master of the Armory so that you can retrieve your armor and equipment. You leave tomorrow at dusk.” Gabriel reached into his pocket then carefully placed a crown on the table ensuring his gloves did not touch the table surface, “Have a drink on me, then have one for me.” Gabriel and Huxley both rose and departed, leaving Val alone with his orders.
He stared for a moment at the cylinder. With no real ability to decline the mission his hand reached for it to read his orders.
“I Gabriel Lord Knight Commander of the Celestian Guard hereby reinstate Ser Valivarre. Notwithstanding, his previous altercations that occurred while off duty. The aforementioned individual will have full access and privilege due his new rank of Knight Captain. Equipment that was confiscated from him will be returned to him. Removal of his court martial from his records will not occur. Reversal of his sentence will instead occur. Operational restrictions that are placed on all Knight Captains will be amended to allow Ser Valivarre to complete his mission. Gate access will also be amended. All individuals who are shown this letter are to show Ser Valivarre Knight Captain of the Celestian Guard their immediate attention. The individuals who do not do so will be stripped of rank and title. Exacting punishment from those who do not show immediate attention will be at the discretion of Ser Valivarre.
On the following page
Miss Huxley, Val will require you as an escort. Under no circumstances are her instruments to be tampered with, the readings she takes is her mission. Reprimands from me will occur if you in any way damage her instruments. Delve to the correct depth that she needs. Eliminate all threats to her. Remember, that your job is to ensure the completion of her readings, do not jeopardize that aspect of the mission.
Valivarre leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply. His eyes stared into the table top and at the crown resting atop of it.
Valivarre carefully re-read the signed dockets of his reinstatement. Taking each sentence line by line to ensure he had read them carefully. Finally satisfied that he understood he leaned back in his chair. Despondently his gloved hand reached out, he fumbled with the coin cleaning some dirt off the table with fingertips and called for another bottle.