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 Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:03 pm
Takes place in early June. The first shot came out of the shadows between two pine trees. It struck the Senshi square in the back—a burst of energy loud and sudden enough to send several timid creatures scurrying for cover.
The forests around the city were lush late in the spring. Vyn frequently roamed through the older parts where the trees were tall and hardy, their mingled canopies dense enough to block what starlight managed to penetrate the ambient light of the city itself. A half moon threw beams of silver through their branches, but it was easy enough to avoid the patches of light. Vyn kept to the great swathes of darkness, peering through the night for any sign of life that couldn’t be attributed to the local fauna.
He’d stealthily pursued the figure picking their way through the trees for a quarter mile, taking advantage of his own lack of aura coupled with his ComTech’s ability to track them. At first, he’d known only that the Senshi was an Eternal, but he’d had his suspicions roused by their careful gait. What was a Senshi doing out in the forest alone, skulking around like they didn’t want to be seen?
Only when he caught a brief glimpse of the uniform beneath the moonlight did Vyn recognize his target.
He shot without remorse, then leapt out of the shadows to strike with more force before the Senshi had the chance to recover from the initial blast.Quote: A sci-fi rifle - capable of firing a ball of concentrated energy every ten seconds; this ball will explode on impact and create a tingling or numbing sensation in a six foot radius that lasts for ten seconds. The explosion does not cause actual damage but the electric field can cause dizziness and feel like static is in the air for anyone within the radius. If it hits a target directly they will feel the full brunt of the initial blast but it will taper quickly in power; if the environment is hit, the blast retains full strength and affects all those that pass through the radius.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:05 pm
The shot hit him square between his shoulder blades.
Oberon gasped and stumbled, crashing into the undergrowth as the world flickered white around the edges. The force wasn’t quite pain. It was more like chewing electricity. His fingers tingled, his limbs were heavy. For a moment, he couldn’t feel his legs.
“Okay,” he hissed through gritted teeth, voice ringing in his own ears. “Ow.”
It was as though pins and needles exploded down his arms. He couldn’t feel his fingers. Or his legs. Oberon’s eyes narrowed, but he quickly rolled onto his back, limbs trembling from the static shock.
“Oh, hell,” he wheezed into the dirt, spitting leaves. “Seriously?” he sputtered, hearing the movement of the person following him approaching quickly, before he could even pull himself upright. He managed to push himself up against a tree, hoping to avoid the second attack. He held out his arm, bracing himself for impact.
Of course it would be the same guy who had shot him when he was trying to help them during the fight with the Calamitous Hollow. The one whose aim was too precise, the gleaming tech, the unbreakable loyalty to Lyndin.
“What’s with you shooting people from behind, huh?”
If this guy was out here, it was obvious the intention was to track Caedus. Unfortunately for this Commander, Caedus had plenty of tech to protect him from a surprise attack. And friends who would help lure away threats.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:05 pm
Vyn took the opportunity presented to him by the Senshi’s labored movements to direct his next shot into the Senshi’s face.
It wasn’t lethal. (Sometimes Vyn wished it was. Between the Negaverse with their cruel weaponry and the White Moon and their intent to kill without them, Vyn understood the allure of Earthen firearms even if he ultimately thought them distasteful.) The impact would hurt. At close range, the blast could leave minor abrasions. With the Senshi’s head so close to the tree trunk, it might cause additional damage if the back of his skull collided with the wood hard enough, but he would survive.
He wasn’t any use incapacitated.
Before the Senshi could react in the aftermath, Vyn grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him up onto his feet, shoving the Senshi harder against the tree.
Vyn knew he wasn’t menacing. He was tall enough for an Earthling but quite average if not short for a Velencian. The shorts and t-shirt he wore instead of his uniform gave him something of a disheveled air. He was not large enough to loom nor hardened enough to strike fear into anyone with the power of his glare alone.
But he could be relentless.
“Where is he?” he demanded.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:06 pm
The second blast struck him in the face.
Not dead. Not unconscious. But s**t, that hurt.
Oberon’s head snapped back into the tree behind him with a sickening crack. Light burst behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure he even knew the names of all the colors he saw. He slumped briefly, stunned with the world spinning, his vision and thoughts full of static.
He’d had worse.
But that didn’t stop the unintentional grunt that escaped when the Velencian hauled him upright by the front of his shirt and shoved him even harder against the trunk.
Everything was spinning, but slowly it started to readjust. The Velencian wasn’t big. He wasn’t even that intimidating. He looked like he belonged sorting books in a library, or sitting behind a desk. Not slamming people into trees like some crazed soldier. But his grip was firm, and his eyes were serious.
Relentless. Yes, that was the word.
Where is he?
Oberon blinked once. Then twice. His head throbbed. His lip was bleeding. His back felt like it had been struck by lightning. And yet…
“Wow,” he coughed, forcing a crooked smile -- bloody and half-dazed. Completely nonchalant. “No drink? No small talk? We’re just skipping straight to threats now?”
He wanted the Commander off balance. Wanted to buy time. Wanted the pounding in his skull to stop long enough to think.
“You know,” Oberon started slowly, as though testing the limits. “You’re really consistent. Always shooting first. Asking questions later. What, you get a bigger gun and suddenly all your conversations start with a concussion?”
Sure, his tone was casual, but there was coldness beneath it. He wasn’t just trying to be difficult. He was pushing back. He wanted to see if there was anything left in the Commander that could be worth reasoning with.
“You’re wasting your time,” he added after a pause, sounding more grounded in his confidence. “Even if I knew where he was -- which I don’t -- you wouldn’t get it out of me. Because I don’t turn people over to execution squads.”
His head was still throbbing, but he kept his eyes on the Velencian’s face. He leaned forward just a little, testing his grip on his shirt, his voice low and even.
“I spoke to Lyndin. Recently. Before the whole Hollow crisis. Yeah, I know he’s looking for alternatives. Something that doesn’t result in Caedus being slaughtered. So are you really trying to save your world, or are you just out for blood?”
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:06 pm
“Keep the Commodore’s name out of your mouth!”
Vyn released the Senshi only to deliver a kick swift and strong enough to send him careening back to the forest floor. Twigs scattered beneath him. The Senshi’s weight left an impression in the dirt. A thin blanket of pine needles covered portions of the ground, but it would only do so much to cushion his fall. Vyn stood over him once he was down and took aim at the Senshi’s face again.
If the Senshi meant to prompt a guilty conscience, he would receive no sign of one. Vyn was only ever apprehensive about his choice to search for Caedus when he considered what his friends might think of him for doing so. Caedus himself meant little to Vyn. He had been missing longer than Vyn had been alive and had offered nothing upon his return. If Caedus had died when he was meant to, none of this would be happening. They wouldn’t be on Earth, stuck between two sides of a war that had nothing to do with them. Their people might have been able to reclaim their homeland centuries ago. Vyn could have been born on Velenia.
This Senshi had fought for Caedus. He’d disregarded his own safety to take back Caedus’ starseed and had begged others to assist him. There was a chance he did so out of the goodness of his heart, but Vyn thought it far more likely that the Senshi considered Caedus a friend. Caedus might therefore rely on him. If anyone was likely to know where Caedus was at any given time, it was the ones who’d put the most effort into saving him.
“You don’t even care what you’ve done,” Vyn said. “You heard everything, you knew what was at stake, and you still sacrificed the rest of us for him!”
He didn’t care if the Senshi spoke to Lyndin. He didn’t care what Lyndin told him. Lyndin would have shared only what the Senshi needed to hear and nothing more. Caedus’ starseed was still their best chance and the only method currently at their disposal that would produce the desired results. Lyndin had made that clear to the Vanguard.
When Vyn had shot this Senshi before, Lyndin hadn’t chastised him for it. If anything, he seemed to approve.
“Save your lies and spare me your self-righteous fury. Tell me where Caedus is hiding.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:07 pm
The kick drove straight into his ribs.
Oberon hit the ground hard, air leaving his lungs in a soundless wheeze. Pine needles and dirt scraped against his skin. His vision swam. His body recoiled with the lingering static. His back screamed painfully. He barely had time to brace himself before the barrel of the rifle hovered back into view like some kind of divine judgment, aimed directly at his head.
He didn’t flinch.
Instead… he laughed. It was short, breathless. Almost a cough. But he was still breathing. Still conscious.
“Right,” he hissed, coughing blood into the pine needles. “Because beating the s**t out of me is definitely going to save your planet.”
He didn’t give the Velencian a chance to respond. He was already tapping into his magic, sending it out like a silent, suffocating pulse. Dread would rush in like drowning in cold water. A spike of panic. A weight of something too large to remain above the surface.
He knew the Commander would feel it, that breath wouldn’t come easily--
So Oberon moved fast. He struck out with his foot, aiming to crush the Commander’s knee. He lunged upward, grabbing him by his shirt and slamming a knee into his gut, palm under his chin to knock his head back. It wasn’t clean. Nor was it elegant.
He shoved the Commander back -- not enough to knock him down, but to place enough space between them so he could think. Oberon was panting, blood running from a split at his temple from when he was knocked down. But he stood his ground.
“Miracles happen here,” he growled, eyes blazing with pained but growing fury. “But only if we give them a chance. I’d die to save a world. If I knew one life could bring back a whole world, I’d offer mine in a heartbeat. But Caedus deserves the choice. His life was stolen from him once already. You don’t get to take it again just because you’re too angry to hope.” Quote: Eternal Sailor Attack: Spirit of AdventureLike with any good adventure, his targets finds themselves facing a danger they must overcome, and they are hit with a crippling rush of adrenaline, as if forced to face one’s greatest physical fear; jumping from an airplane, or facing a pack of hungry wolves, or being caught in a wave, unable to surface, about to be sucked into the vacuum of space, etc. Like in all dangerous situations, fight-or-flight kicks in, but the attack itself removes the ability to physically react to that response. The physical symptoms may be comparable to that of an anxiety attack for some; shortness of breath, increased heart rate, dizziness. Chills and sweating are experienced, as if having a high fever, and chest pain as though in cardiac arrest. Other symptoms are unique to each individual. There is no outward damage done by the attack, but those that experience it get to "survive" their worst fear, and are left weakened and psychologically drained. The attack itself builds up to its peak around 45 seconds and can be used on a single opponent within a twenty foot radius. It could be used twice if absolutely necessary, but is physically draining and only used as a last resort.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:07 pm
When your worst fear already loomed on the horizon, inching closer each day the one who could prevent it chose himself over his own people, what worse could magic do?
Vyn felt it like a tingle against his skin. There was no other outward sign of it—no shimmering air, no kaleidoscope of color, no unusual scent, nothing of substance—only a subtle shift in his awareness as his own body began to betray him. Suddenly his lungs were short of air. His heart rate increased as adrenaline, already elevated, spiked to levels that would have surely concerned Aliez. Vyn’s hands shook around his rifle. His vision swam, impeding his aim. His heaving chest tightened. His throat constricted. His thoughts, already ensnared by fear, veered sharply toward panic.
His knee gave out. The strike to his gut forced a gasp of precious air from his lungs. His head snapped back, but the pain was immaterial. Vyn stumbled, lurching back. He almost lost his footing; the shoes he wore to run skidded through the dirt and leaves, offering less traction than his boots would have if he’d only had pride enough to wear his uniform. He threw his arms and his rifle up to fend the Senshi off, but the Senshi put some distance between them. Not much, if the blur of color still in the vicinity was any indication, but enough that Vyn’s next wild swing met open air.
His body had gone tense and uncoordinated. Vyn shook his head to clear it, but the magic sank in deep, pulling the worst of his nightmares to the forefront.
Tears sprang into being before Vyn had the chance to rein them in. He didn’t want to hear about miracles. They were the belief of the powerless and those who chose inaction, turning to the supernatural to absolve themselves of the need to make difficult choices. Miracles hadn’t saved his people. They’d saved themselves, and they prevailed now through their own hard work and determination. Why should they rely on the mercy of some higher power or cosmic force outside of their control when they already had the means to achieve their own goals? Why wait, and hope, and risk everything for a miracle that may never come?
Vyn lunged forward with a cry of rage, and bitterness, and loathing. Unable to aim through his impairments, he tossed his rifle aside and crashed into the Senshi, striking with his bare hands. He grappled, and swung, and kicked, ignoring his own injuries for the chance to release a fraction of his pain onto one of the people responsible for it.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:07 pm
The Commander hit him like some wild thing. They crashed into each other with enough force to drive the air from Oberon’s lungs -- again -- except that this time there was no time to think. No speeches or clever insults. Just fists and instinct.
The rifle clattered somewhere into the undergrowth, forgotten. The Commander was on him, striking hard and fast with rage spilling from every hit like a dam that had been busted open. The Velencian was just a bit shorter than him. Lighter -- but desperate, which made him heavy.
Oberon hissed as he stumbled back with the first blow, his forearms immediately up to guard his head. The second punch cracked into his ribs. The third grazed his jaw.
He grit his teeth as pain lit up through him. His spine was already bruised. His legs threatened to give out -- but he twisted into the momentum and shoved forward instead. He threw his elbow into the Commander’s shoulder, then a knee into his thigh.
“You wanna fight?” he snarled, spitting blood from his busted lip. “Fine. Let’s fight.”
Oberon had never actually trained for this kind of brawl. His brother taught him how to throw a punch, but Oberon’s strength was in philosophy, in research, in technology -- but he’d taken enough hits over the last fifteen years to give them back.
His knuckles cracked against the Velencian’s cheekbone. He slammed his boot into the Velencian’s shin. He threw him back just enough so he could slam the heel of his palm into his solar plexus, hoping to knock the breath from him.
“You don’t get to put this all on him!” Oberon shouted. His voice was raw and there was blood in his mouth. “Caedus didn’t choose to come back only to be murdered by his own people! He didn’t ask for his starseed to be mutilated, only to be told he still wasn’t good enough!”
When the Commander hit him again, he didn’t even see it until the fist connected. Oberon saw stars. His head rang, and he crashed into a tree with bark shattering beneath his weight. But he didn’t fall. Instead he lunged -- this time dragging the Commander down into the dirt with him.
They rolled and kicked and scraped and grappled. Oberon’s shoulder slammed painfully into a rock. His side was going numb. He couldn’t tell whose blood was whose anymore, but he didn’t care. Because this wasn’t about winning. It was about surviving long enough to make sure Caedus could.
And if he had to bleed for it, then he would.
He grabbed a handful of the Commander’s collar, pulling him close, just inches apart. They were both torn and covered in dirt, panting heavily.
“You think you’re the only one hurting?” he snarled. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost everything? You want a scapegoat? Pick me. But you leave him the hell alone.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:08 pm
Vyn wasn’t particularly brilliant. He would always insist on that. He could keep up with his own people and outperform an average Earthling, but his strength didn’t lie in academics. He preferred physical activity to research, and joined the Vanguard under the assumption that those skills might see better use.
His fight with the Senshi lacked the finesse he was used to. Engaging with a real opponent wasn’t like training with a friend. His colleagues among the Vanguard followed predictable patterns. None of them were out to hurt each other, merely to learn and improve. During their time on Earth, Vyn had used his rifle against various opponents. He was a good shot. Better than most, maybe, if he was ever afforded the opportunity to think so highly of himself. His aim was true. He rarely hesitated. He didn’t enjoy the harm it caused, but he was grateful for the ability to protect his people.
A brawl was different. Vyn had not yet fought an opponent one on one outside of training. The Senshi lacked the simple predictability of Aliez or Andreiya. He threw punches with more surety than he used his feet. The Senshi had the height and weight advantage but didn’t seem to know how to use either effectively, leaving openings where a more skilled opponent would have been able to overpower Vyn, who himself showed somewhat less skill with his fists than he demonstrated with his rifle. If Vyn hadn’t been suffering from the lingering effects of the Senshi’s magic, he would’ve had the upper hand.
Still, he met then Senshi blow for blow, and when they crashed into the ground together Vyn used whatever he could to turn the tide in his favor. He shoved dirt into the Senshi’s bleeding face. He brought his knee up hard against the Senshi’s groin. He let the Senshi talk, let him seethe and preach and grab Vyn by the shirt, and when the Senshi thought he had him prone Vyn spat into one of the Senshi’s golden eyes.
They rolled again, wrestling with more passion than prowess. Vyn hardly knew the difference when the magic wore off. He felt unhinged—frantic, out of control, desperate. A wordless shriek tore from his throat. Tears streamed from his eyes, joining the smears of blood and dirt on his face. He threw several punches in quick succession, then hoisted himself off the Senshi and stumbled for his rifle, gleaming in a patch of moonlight nearby.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:09 pm
The Commander’s shriek cut through the trees like a trapped, injured animal. Oberon gasped for air, his chest heaving, ribs burning. He was half blind from the dirt smeared across his face. One eye stung, either from spit or blood or both, and his temple throbbed painfully. He was bleeding in more places than he could count--
But he shoved himself upright. He wasn’t done.
“Don’t you--” he snarled when he saw the Commander scrabble for his rifle. He doubted there was any logic left in him. No purpose, just pain, and a need to end something. Whatever that may be.
But Oberon’s words never finished, because the air seemed to change. It was subtle at first, just a shift in the wind, like the slow draining of energy. Then the magic hit hard, like an ache behind his ribs. Like sorrow and despair. The trees lost their color. The shadows blended together.
Oberon stumbled -- tried to focus -- but it was like everything around him lost its joy and meaning. He didn’t drop, but his knees buckled a little. His shoulder hit the tree in an attempt to remain upright. “Enough.” Even without hearing his voice, Oberon could have guessed from his magic alone, although he’d never been at the receiving end of it before. He glared at Surtur, teeth nashed tightly together, blood and sweat dripping into his eyes and down his face.
“You’re just going to step in like he didn’t start this? Like he didn’t come at me, rifle drawn, shooting me twice? Now you show up? Or were you watching this whole time?”
He hadn’t felt any other aura. Maybe it wasn’t fair to accuse Surtur of appearing out of nowhere when he might have just been passing through. But Oberon was angry and in pain. He didn’t want to fight any more. But he didn’t want to concede, either. Surtur stepped forward, aware of the heaviness his presence might have caused. When the world around them was muted, bleached gray, devoid of signs of life. He stood close to Vyn’s rifle, gleaming in the patch of moonlight.
Oberon was still upright, but barely. Surtur took in the blood on his face and the anger in his eyes, but he could see the exhaustion as well. Vyn looked like a cornered animal, moments away from lunging again. Grief heavy and clinging to him like wet fabric.
Surtur turned to him first.
“Don’t,” he said. His voice was quiet, but final. It wasn’t a warning. “You won’t win like this,” he added, taking a slow step forward. “Not against him… Not against yourself.”
He didn’t wait for Vyn to answer. But he didn’t reach for his weapon -- his magic had already stripped the fire from the air, leaving only ash and an eerie silence.
Only then did he glance toward Oberon. He didn’t apologize -- he knew that wouldn’t help anyway. But there was something in his gaze that at least acknowledged the damage that had been done. Beyond the blood and bruises.
“You didn’t deserve this,” he said quietly. Steadily. “But I’m ending this now.”
Surtur didn’t reach for either of them, but he let the weight hang in the air that said: try me. Quote: Sailor Scout Attack - Forlorn Heart - Surtur’s target is hit with a heavy wave of depression and feelings of emptiness. Everything around them appears as though it has lost all color saturation, or has been covered in ash or dust from decay. There is no physical damage, but the attack can be disorienting and emotionally draining. It lasts for thirty (30) seconds and can be used three (3) times. It affects enemies within a ten foot radius around Surtur and the magic will follow him if he moves, but the effects end if the target moves out of the radius.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:10 pm
Vyn staggered and fell to his knees. His rifle remained just out of reach.
Magic muted the anger within him as it muted their surroundings, leaving him as desolate as the landscape. Dirt turned to ash and slipped between his fingers. Vyn gazed through the wasteland around them to the figure at the center of it and felt, for a moment, a flicker of relief.
It was easier, sometimes, to feel nothing when the alternative was to feel too much.
The urge to fight subsided. His hatred turned inward. Vyn sagged against the barren ground and wept for what he’d already lost, and all that he might one day lose.
It wasn’t about winning. Victory wouldn’t come until Velencya was saved, until they stood on their own living world and saw a new generation take root there. It wasn’t even about vengeance. Spilling blood wouldn’t change what occurred on the hilltop. Vyn could grab his rifle, take aim and fire the Senshi again, beat him until he begged for mercy, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Any satisfaction he drew from it would only be temporary, as all things were now.
In the end, helplessness and fear were at the heart of it. Vyn felt stifled by his own sorrow. It choked off his cries and left him weak and hollow.
He stared through their bleak patch of forest, tears so heavy he could no longer see his opponent through them.
“Go,” Vyn croaked. He shuddered through a ragged inhale. “The next time you see him, ask that coward what happens when Velencya dies. Ask him if he cares at all. Ask him how he can live with himself, knowing how much others are willing to sacrifice when he can’t do the same.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:10 pm
For a long moment, Oberon stood there. His breathing was ragged, and he could feel every bruise, every strain of muscle, but he held himself upright by sheer force of will.
The Commander’s words hit him. Not like before -- not with fists. But a crushing weight settling heavy on him. A quiet misery.
Oberon didn’t answer. How could he? Because deep down… he feared the same thing.
“That’s the difference,” he finally said after steadying his voice, despite how rough it sounded. “You keep asking what will happen when he doesn’t sacrifice himself. And I keep asking why you won’t give him a reason to live.”
Oberon didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and walked away, limping slightly. Blood was still trickling from his temple, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t look back.
The moment Oberon was gone, Surtur let out a quiet breath, and it was as though his magic eased with it. Not all at once, but color returned faintly, as though dawn was breaking from a long night. The air lost its tension.
He stepped towards Vyn. There was no lecture, no reprimand. Just standing close enough to be present.
“You are not weak,” he said gently, slowly kneeling beside him in the dirt. He didn’t touch him, not yet. But he stayed close enough to shield him. Just in case the trees made noises strange enough to spook him, or perhaps if the silence got too loud.
“You are grieving. There is a difference. You do not have to carry all of it by yourself,” Surtur added, his voice quieter now. “Even if you think you deserve to.”
He paused for a moment, watching Vyn with a quiet understanding. He lowered his voice again, even softer than before.
“Let me help.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:10 pm
The Senshi left, taking his righteousness into the shadows. The forest returned to itself, lush and beautiful under the light of the moon, full of a life so many others lacked. The night was quiet and warm—almost peaceful, if not for the evidence of a skirmish strewn around them.
Vyn wiped at his tears and smeared more dirt onto his face. His was filthy, covered in blood, sweat, and grime, with loose leaves and pine needles tangled in his hair. Though his injuries were numerous, they hurt far less than his aching heart.
He lifted his watery gaze to Surtur. Vyn wanted to be angry with him for interfering. He wanted to send him away, then pick himself back up on his own simply to prove that he could. Grief hadn’t stopped Vyn yet. Not for long. Not so completely that he couldn't find his way. There was too much at stake. Caedus was out there somewhere. All paths led to him, whether any of them liked it or not.
“The only one who can help refuses to,” Vyn argued, soft and frail in the dark.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2025 5:11 pm
Quietly, Surtur watched him. Watched as the anger simmered into grief, as the blood on Vyn’s skin dried. He watched the effort it took for Vyn to just breathe without shaking apart.
Overhead, the trees swayed gently, the soft sounds of animals and insects in the forest like a blanket of calm.
“No one refuses forever,” he said, voice quiet as he knelt beside Vyn. His voice wasn’t scolding, nor was it hopeful. Just sincere in the way that a mountain remained, weathered but unmoving. Still standing after a storm.
“Sometimes it takes too long. And sometimes it costs too much. But people change, even when they do not want to. Even when it is the last thing they think they deserve.”
He paused for just a moment, long enough to draw in a quiet breath.
“Your pain does not make you wrong, Vyn. But it does make you dangerous if you let it lead you. And it makes you strong if you do not.”
He extended a hand then, not as a command or even as an offer of rescue. Just something grounding. Something that was real.
“I will walk with you. However long it takes.”
Fin!
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