Published Aug 15th, 2017, 8/15/17 10:18 am
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Some minor lore
I pride myself on only three of achievements in life. The first being that I have never loved or considered marriage. That would muck my reflexes up and dull my body. Second, I was born with a blue eye. Apparently, the mountain-huggers think that’s good luck. Lucky me.
Third and finally, I am a huntress for the Queen’s Own. And, if I do say so myself, I’m rather good at it.
It’s the fifth day on a miserably isolated forest planet. Instead of Spine-Zest, I’m drinking sour rainwater. The world is inhabited by indigenous and advanced Darakiil alike, but those aren’t what I’m hunting.
My quarry is the Dregs, black curs, crude Skrum-bait that has no right to carry on in this godsforsaken universe. There have been reports of Dreg raids on local villages and outposts, so I'm here to sort out business.
I check my belt for a moment, compulsively, just to feel the familiarly weathered grip of my Magnum slug pistol. Three blink knives are holstered on my Baldor Steel cuisses. Two smoke grenades are clipped to the back of my belt. I’ll be buggered if someone knocks me on my back.
Final check. I turn my left wrist over to reveal three short runes etched into the gauntlet. The cheeky armoury wizard that made them had decided to experiment. Called it Prismatic Cloaking. We’ll have to see how well it works.
It works like Balg! Gods, I will shoot the armoury wizard in the face if I make it out of this.
I can hear the Gnasher rifles chattering behind me, like a swarm of Skorthage Izaars. I swipe my hand across the runes for what feels like the millionth time (probably is) and the ice-water sensation of the Prismatic Cloak washes over me. I glance at my hand as I book it and take cover behind a small rise of heavy rock. The ripple of the cloak is hard even for me to see, that is until a spot of sunshine hits me and sends a bloody light show of colors off into the four corners of the galaxy.
Still fantasizing about that whole shooting the wizard thing. I swear on my mother’s grave, I will do it.
I hear the ugly yammering of a Dreg captain nearby. Let’s estimate about 60 yards North-west from my perspective. I duck deeper behind the rock formation and tap one of the runes on my helmet. A tiny whistling noise indicates its link with the targeting golem in my pistol. Alright, alright. And GO.
I jump from behind the rocks and swing the barrel of the Magnum towards the first Dreg I see. The Dreg Captain. Serendipitous. The golem link pings in my helmet, I let loose a shot, I dive to the side, all in the blink of an eye. The Dreg Captain, or what’s left of him, slumps dead onto one its nearby comrades. Of course, seeing as the Dregs aren’t very organized to begin with, it didn’t make much of a difference in cutting of the head of the snake; the rest of the body keeps coming.
Now they’re even angrier. Let me tell you, when stupid meets really, really angry, you make for the hills.
Ping. Shoot. Ping. Shoot. Ping. Shoot. Two more shots left in the Magnum. I swipe my hand over the cloak again and go for thicker forest cover. The trees get closer together. Less likely that a Gnasher wad will hit me. Still gotta stay cautious, kids. That’s what they nail into your head at the Academy.
After I find ample cover, I pop open the cylinder of the Magnum and force in four more slugs. I flick my wrist to send the cylinder back into the gun, locking it in. Unfortunately for me, that’s the rest of the ammo. Oh well. I’ll make it work.
How many loose Dregs were left after that little gunfight? Two, six, nine, uhh. Twelve. That’s the ticket. Think fast! Between the six-round cylinder and the three knives, you have three left to plug. Can’t very well shove a smoke grenade down their throats. They won’t let me close enough. Unless I keep the knives on me. I’ll hurl one, keep the other two.
C’mon blue eye, don’t fail me now.
I slip between the trees to conceal my movement. The Prismatic Cloak is better now that I’m under the shade of a fistful of trees.
I see a Dreg. Ping. Down it goes. The others hear the boom-crack of my Magnum (hard not to) and begin their rush. Absolutely stupid of them, but still, gotta stay cautious. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Click. The Magnum is empty. I don’t toss it aside like some dense rifleman would, however. I love my pistol and my pistol loves me, so it doesn’t go anywhere but my belt. The Magnum is holstered, move to knives.
But Gods, what a burn! A spray of Gnasher wad tears through my right arm as it reaches for a knife, leaving the hand dangling uselessly. The runes on the gauntlet are shattered to Skrum, too. Thank the Gorobon for adrenaline-induced numbness.
I lob two smoke grenades as fast as I can towards the onslaught. It obscures them, but the Gnashers keep going. A couple more stinging pikes of pain shoot up through my legs, one in my torso. Not fatal, still hurts like Hell, even with my nerves full of adrenaline. I still have six more of the Dregs to deal with. I’m sitting pretty with no cloak, full of bleeding holes like a Seies-Sifter, and getting tired fast.
The smoke only holds them off for a few seconds, and the first gormless Dreg mug that I see bursting through the smoke gets a knifepoint the face. The blink knife flits in between its beady eyes, leaving a gap wide enough for a not-too-shabby fount of gooey black blood to bubble out. I sweep the knife through the throats of two more Dregs, exposing their vital arteries to fresh air. Three more to go. My good arm is getting heavier. I press my thumb to the blink rune on the knife and let it charge for a moment. Another Dreg comes up, flick. The impact of the knife sends the Dreg’s head spinning around, the supporting slab of meat that is the beast’s neck giving a deep-bodied crack as it breaks from the sudden blow.
I whip out another knife and throw it into the gut of the second Dreg. It howls and digs at the knife. Brainless fool should know that pulling the blade free only means death-by-blood-loss. I shuffle over to finish it off, but the Dreg seems to have a stroke of genius for once and sends a couple Gnasher wads into my chest. I’m winded but not down. That was stupid of me. Really tired now. I unsheathe the last knife and punch the blade into the forehead. I hear the last one behind me, but it’s too late to turn around. I hear the chatter, I feel the loss of breath, and since the adrenaline has worn off, I feel the full searing pain as at least seven Gnasher wads chew through my back armor and into my shoulders and kidneys. No lung or heart shots? I make a mental note to leave a gold Rune at the Monastery if I make it through this.
The Dreg comes over the double tap, but the dullard takes too long to figure out how to go about the whole deal. Lucky me (thanks, blue eye). I roll over and stab the knife into the Dreg’s calf muscles, pulling down to fillet the leg. It shrieks and tumbles over. I have to give the thing credit, ‘cause it puts up a good fight. I tank a couple of punches to my head, but a third and fourth are enough to both piss me off further and send my brain swirling. I slash at the arms angrily, feeling the blade connect and tear through flesh and sinew, before throwing all my weight against the knife and plunging it into the Dreg’s heart, killing it stone dead.
I roll off the Dreg’s body, thoroughly tired and mildly sick thanks to the sulfurous scent of my blood and their blood mingled and crusted onto what’s left of my armor. And then everything’s foggy. I’m unconscious.
I wake up, stiff as a board. Feels as though I’ve been kissed by the devil, ‘cause everything burns. I must have a small fever. Fantastic. Ah, and here comes the sick. Add that to the list of fluids that my armor is stained with. Even more fantastic. And the shot arm still doesn’t want to move. Hell of a list of injuries I’ve got building up.
But I’m alive, so my lucky eye didn’t fail me. I pull a chunk of healer’s grass from a mangled pouch on my belt and begin to chew. Heal up, get off this planet. That’s what I have to do.
Oh, and I’m still shooting that wizard. Not gonna forget that.
Once again I continue the annoying trend of featuring the color red prominently in my skins. But it works as a good supporting hue, so go away.
I got inspired by the recent Destiny 2 beta and its artwork. That mixed with some binge-playing of Titanfall 2 has resulted in a crazy concoction of sci-fi good stuff in my brain that needs a medium to vent into. So I made a skin.
As per the norm, I kept the palette on the skin! Download to check it out. Feel free to use in your work! Just credit the colors. :)
There's another one in the works, too! Hopefully, it takes less than a whole bloody month and a half to finish.
Sneaky Peaky
While I was sharing the skin designs in discord, cool guy ThatGuyJake was inspired and made a rad armored dude of his own. Check it out!
Cool lil thingy for those who can't see the 3D preview:
| Gender | Female |
| Format | Java |
| Model | Alex |
| Tags |
tools/tracking
3989659
5
huntress-bridge-the-frontier
_Blanc__
TravisaInc
Danesto
CrystalRuby
User5098101G
EarthUser
User5115289G
MindOfSocial
katress
Buhh
autumn
TheMountaineer
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yah yeet
Looks excellent, as always.