More pawns in the chess game
The door to room 2,147,483,647 upstairs in Milliways' living quarters has never opened, not even for its present occupants. There roosts Evil Chicken; there remains a great hoard of treasure; there stands guard one of Jordan Kennedy's Providor Units.
The door has never opened, because its occupants never needed it to open. And for all purposes, it can't open. Here, Evil Chicken was free to use his teleporting ability again, and as for the Providor unit? It was built with teleportation tech built right in, teleportation tech that works even in Evil Chicken's home world, where his teleportation magic doesn't. At least, not anymore. Not for now.
Really, the Providor Unit standing guard is superfluous. Milliways' magic dictated that no uninvited guests could ever wander into a room anyway. Not like anyone has tried it to Chicken's knowledge. So, it was quite safe for the Providor Unit to disappear once in a while to take care of some needs while Chicken slept.
The Devourer has arrived once more in the realm of the Killerwatts. It is unlike the hunters who pour though the howling portal. They are of flesh which burns, and they come only to kill. But the Devourer is of light and force, its hungry heart a metal life draining prison. It comes to feed, and tonight it feasts greedily, dragging many more of our kindred into its hungry maw than is usual. I have told the young ones to not attack it, but they do not listen. Our manner of fighting only provides the beast with a foretaste of our essence, yet many still fight on.
I can no longer run. I can't hide.
The skies over the southern swamps of Morytania are always overcast, thank the Lord, and thunderstorms are by no means rare. But what one of the vyrewatch patrolling the area witnessed was extreme and to not investigate would be foolish. Such frequent lightning could mean that some scientist was conducting unsanctioned experiments. Such a scientist could be working for the rebellion.
He ascended to a greater height with powerful beats of his large, black, leathery wings and glided toward the phenomena, adjusting his course so to skim around the phenomena rather than fly through it. He concentrated on any psychic chatter coming from the ground, but it was silent except for the desires of a frog for prey and companionship and the hungry moans of a ghoul, lost in the swamp. The air, though, smelled clean in pockets. Dry. With a tinge of ozone. Closer to center of the area lightning was striking at so frequently, the air ignited here and there. Gases from the swamp, no doubt. Cautiously, the lone vyrewatch tightened the lazy circle of his flight path to investigate the phenomenon more closely.
The closer he flew, the more he flirted with fate. The lightning strikes were happening so close he could feel that the air was incrementally warmer. Still no significant psychic presence detected. Then he saw.
A woman. Red haired. Sun kissed skin. Red eyes. Tracking him through the sky. Zero psychic presence.
And after a few seconds, no physical presence.
He only felt something small and light land on his back before there were warm blooded but scentless arms wrapped over his wings under his arms, palms covering his eyes. Then came the sensation of long, luxurious hair tickling his cheek as whatever... whoever, approached his cold and bloodless ear to speak. The warmth was there, the tactile sensation was there. He could feel the blood flowing through the palms which blinded him, the regular heart beat which proclaimed human!
But the lack of a scent, the lack of a mind, the lack of an actual mass... what was this thing?
It whispered, its breath as warm as any human, "Guess who?"
Lightning struck the pair, but before they could fall back toward the ground, the male vyrewatch disappeared from the sky and reappeared on the ground. The "woman." however, did not reappear.
When another vyrewatch patrol found him, he was barely alive (for however "alive" vampires can get). His shirt was mostly burned away, revealing a dark Lichtenberg figure snaking from his back to his chest. Most shocking to the patrol that found him, though, were the two palms burned into his face, sealing his eyes shut. This wasn't someone who accidentally flew above the clouds. This was... How do sunburns like that happen?
The door to room 2,147,483,647 upstairs in Milliways' living quarters has never opened, not even for its present occupants. There roosts Evil Chicken; there remains a great hoard of treasure; there stands guard one of Jordan Kennedy's Providor Units.
The door has never opened, because its occupants never needed it to open. And for all purposes, it can't open. Here, Evil Chicken was free to use his teleporting ability again, and as for the Providor unit? It was built with teleportation tech built right in, teleportation tech that works even in Evil Chicken's home world, where his teleportation magic doesn't. At least, not anymore. Not for now.
Really, the Providor Unit standing guard is superfluous. Milliways' magic dictated that no uninvited guests could ever wander into a room anyway. Not like anyone has tried it to Chicken's knowledge. So, it was quite safe for the Providor Unit to disappear once in a while to take care of some needs while Chicken slept.
The Devourer has arrived once more in the realm of the Killerwatts. It is unlike the hunters who pour though the howling portal. They are of flesh which burns, and they come only to kill. But the Devourer is of light and force, its hungry heart a metal life draining prison. It comes to feed, and tonight it feasts greedily, dragging many more of our kindred into its hungry maw than is usual. I have told the young ones to not attack it, but they do not listen. Our manner of fighting only provides the beast with a foretaste of our essence, yet many still fight on.
I can no longer run. I can't hide.
The skies over the southern swamps of Morytania are always overcast, thank the Lord, and thunderstorms are by no means rare. But what one of the vyrewatch patrolling the area witnessed was extreme and to not investigate would be foolish. Such frequent lightning could mean that some scientist was conducting unsanctioned experiments. Such a scientist could be working for the rebellion.
He ascended to a greater height with powerful beats of his large, black, leathery wings and glided toward the phenomena, adjusting his course so to skim around the phenomena rather than fly through it. He concentrated on any psychic chatter coming from the ground, but it was silent except for the desires of a frog for prey and companionship and the hungry moans of a ghoul, lost in the swamp. The air, though, smelled clean in pockets. Dry. With a tinge of ozone. Closer to center of the area lightning was striking at so frequently, the air ignited here and there. Gases from the swamp, no doubt. Cautiously, the lone vyrewatch tightened the lazy circle of his flight path to investigate the phenomenon more closely.
The closer he flew, the more he flirted with fate. The lightning strikes were happening so close he could feel that the air was incrementally warmer. Still no significant psychic presence detected. Then he saw.
A woman. Red haired. Sun kissed skin. Red eyes. Tracking him through the sky. Zero psychic presence.
And after a few seconds, no physical presence.
He only felt something small and light land on his back before there were warm blooded but scentless arms wrapped over his wings under his arms, palms covering his eyes. Then came the sensation of long, luxurious hair tickling his cheek as whatever... whoever, approached his cold and bloodless ear to speak. The warmth was there, the tactile sensation was there. He could feel the blood flowing through the palms which blinded him, the regular heart beat which proclaimed human!
But the lack of a scent, the lack of a mind, the lack of an actual mass... what was this thing?
It whispered, its breath as warm as any human, "Guess who?"
Lightning struck the pair, but before they could fall back toward the ground, the male vyrewatch disappeared from the sky and reappeared on the ground. The "woman." however, did not reappear.
When another vyrewatch patrol found him, he was barely alive (for however "alive" vampires can get). His shirt was mostly burned away, revealing a dark Lichtenberg figure snaking from his back to his chest. Most shocking to the patrol that found him, though, were the two palms burned into his face, sealing his eyes shut. This wasn't someone who accidentally flew above the clouds. This was... How do sunburns like that happen?
The door to room 2,147,483,647 upstairs in Milliways' living quarters has never opened, not even for its present occupants. There roosts Evil Chicken; there remains a great hoard of treasure; there stands guard one of Jordan Kennedy's Providor Units.