Duel Kopperian Fury: The Desolation of Umwat

[Vladimir Katlinchuk]

As Vladimir knelt in the chapel, he could feel the darkness grow ever thicker. Suddenly, the candles on the mantles blew out, and in his ears, he could hear the howls and cries of wicked things from beyond the mortal realm. Taking a deep breath, he crossed himself before kneeling, closing his eyes. "O' Father. Lend me Thy strength once more. To deliver my brethren from this horror. Have mercy on our souls." When he concluded, he stood up, taking his cross before standing at attention. Suddenly, he turned to see one. Just one candle, struggling to stay lit, an unseen breeze attempting to snuff it out. Turning to his priests, he found they had gone silent, their eyes empty, bodies collapsed to the floor. Oil dripping from their mouths.

Gathering himself, he took a deep breath before he began to speak:

"Hear me and weep, 'O ye wicked and perverted creatures! Know that ye can have no power over me, for the Lord of Hosts strives with us, and in His name, I cast you into the endless void, where ye shall live in the absence of light! Ye have no place here among the living! Return to the blackness that you spawned from, 'O children of devils. Ye wicked and foolish souls, who condemned yourselves unto death through your ambitions and abominations! The Lord hast seen thy works!" As he continued, voices began circling him, the bodies of his priests standing up, eyes still empty, yet pointing in accusation. Still, the Patriarch was unmoved, even as his mind filled with horrors beyond imaging, the scent of blood filling his mind. His soul ached, the anger he felt replaced with sorrow. "How could ye do this to the Lord's children?" He questioned, only for the righteous fury of earlier to return. "HOW COULD YE! YOU DEVILS! WHO DOTH SEEK TO DESTROY THE KINGDOM OF THE MOST HIGH?!" Slowly, inperceptebly, that lone candles flame grew stronger. "YOU FOUL THINGS! GET THEE HENCE FROM MY SIGHT! LEST YE BE SMITTEN OF THE LORD, AND DESTROYED FOR TIME AND ALL ETERNITY! SO SAY I, BOGATYR AND WARRIOR OF THE LORD, ANOINTED AND SET APART TO DESTROY THEE! GET THEE HENCE!" He bellowed, drawing his sword and flinging himself at the darkness. As he did, two glowing personages appeared beside him, tall, concealed with blinding light.

The three of them rushed into the blackness, the unseen creatures crying in pain as wounds of pure light were inflicted upon them.

Death filled the ship, only not the cries of the living, but the damned, squealing and groaning in pain, like hungry beasts pursued by a vengeful sheppard. Until at last, their cries faded, and light returned.

When the Priests stood up from their prayers, they found the Patriarch, laying on his back. A serene smile on his face. When they touched him, he slowly awoke. "Father?" One asked, concerned.

The old drone merely nodded his head. "I'm fine..." He replied before shaking his head to remove the groggyness from his lenses. "Just a bad dream. Please, let us continue."

 

[Boris Petrovi Yroslavov]

Boris saw his life flash before his eye as his own body snatched him up, horrid, empty laughter echoing from the supposedly empty frame as it brought him toward its mouth. Or at least, it was, when suddenly the laughter ceased, it's joints seized, and the body collapsed forward as the bridge crew looked around in confusion. Turning to Ivana, he found her eyes replaced with a yellow X, a worker drone seconds from having it's head ripped clean off. But then the visor glitched. Reverting first to red, than to the emblem combat emblem of the Spetznaz, before finally returning to her normal eyes. She quickly let go of the drone before slowly walking away and dashing out of the bridge.

Boris found similar scenes, with other Razborka drones having nearly murdered their fellows, only to stop, looks of horror on their faces.

Slowly but surely, all eyes turned to him, or rather, his body, and without a word, the Admiral leapt back into his chest cavity.

CORE: RECOGNIZED
POWER: RESTORED
FUNCTIONALITY: RESTORED
WARNING: OVERHEATING RISK
WARNING: ADMINISTRATOR NOT RECOGNIZED
WEAPON SAFETY: OFF ON
SERIAL DESIGNATON B: ONLINE

With a cough, the Admiral slowly rose to his feet, chis chest cavity sealing shut as cool liquid metal encased it before hardening, repairing his uniform in the process. With a sigh, he turned to the crew, still frozen, eyes trained on him. "What are standing around for? Get back to your posts!" He shouted, and without a word, the crews swiftly picked themselves up and got to work. Meanwhile, one opened a container, releasing tiny metal crickets, who made quick work of all the spilled oil before being put back into the container and placed into a small compartment inside a panel. Even still, he shook as he sat in his chair, core shivering in his chest. Quietly, he lowered his head, and for the first time in several years, he prayed. "Father, forgive me. My soul is afraid. Give me the strength to see this through. Amen." When he concluded, he one of his officers. "Order our weapons to destroy what's left of that ship! Fire another round of anti-matter! Once it's gone, engage the next of their large ships. But make sure to load more anti-matter when we do!" He commanded, the weary Razborka drone saluting before relaying his orders. Even if they would likely run out, he had a sinking feeling that what he and his crew endured was thanks to that ship, and he had every intention of leaving no trace of it.