M The weight of responsibility

[Aistiva]

Marduk Salas

Shakily so, he unfurls moving his paws from his face and hesitantly lifting his head, swallowing the knot that's locked tight in the base of his throat. His mouth dry, he tests it only once maybe twice before rising on shaky limbs. Something new stirs within him as golden hues take in the reality of the scene before him, his parents mutilated bodies unmoving on the cold ground; and these aliens to blame. Shrieks of vaesen in the background only to fall upon deaf ears as pain twists and contorts into rage, he cared not his age, his size, short awkward limbs, or small needle like teeth barely able to pick meat from bone. Tiny lips curl, his hackles bristling upon his back with nothing left to lose he rushes from his hiding spot. Digging deep for as mighty of a growl as he can muster as he charges the demon alien. The pup slams his head into the mans leg, which throws him backwards, causing him to tumble over himself. Though dazed, he clambers to his feet giving a small shake of his head before charging again jaws parting to try and grab a hold of the back of his ankle all while a fuss of determined and pained snarls ripped through him.

 

[A_Bibor_Farkas]

Location: Direth Mountains


The shrieking came now even louder than before, as the horde of Vaesen cautiously fell back, disappearing into the mountains yet again. The complete chaos was vastly different from the constant Urban warfare the Marines and Shock troopers were accustomed to. Finally gaining a footing after such a vicious attack, Levente attempted to breathe, as the exhale came a much lighter force smashed into his legs, more so tripping the Trooper as he fell back, instinctively bringing his hands up as the pitiful growling and scratching sounds soon registered. pushing the pup back, Levente clambered to his feet, reloading as the pup began attempting to bite again at his ankles. "Looks like you still have quite a lot of fight in you." His armored Glove reached down slowly picking the pup from his fixated position, the cold metal of the gauntlet pressing against the soft fur on the scruff of the pups neck before the bright snow laden forest disappears only met with the dark of a pouch. the smell vastly different from anything the young pup had experienced.

leaning down to pull the communicator from his headset, the tired SGM took the time to recover his weapon and reload, assessing the carnage around him." All stations, this is 03 actual, fall back, the enemy has fallen back for now. regroup and fortify the crash site. lets get a count on remaining supplies and materials we have to fortify. if any squad leaders survived, provide an after action report once our beachhead is established." The cold was beginning to become a terrible problem, even so early in the day. On the trip back, the gross casualty rate was...staggering. the patrols trail was left painted in their own blood, 8 total marines and OST survived the night. Realizing this, Levente returned to the smoking hull of the ship ,the world did not seem to want them to live.





One Year Later

Location: Direth Mountains – Main Body of the Crashed Colony Ship (“Camp Aegis”)
Time: One Year After the Initial Crash and Previous Events

A frigid wind whistled through the battered corridors of Camp Aegis, sending icy drafts along the improvised walls of salvaged hull plating. For many, it was impossible to forget the day Sergeant Major Levente Barná had returned from a brutal skirmish, bringing someone he would name Marduk. Now, twelve months later, Marduk was the human equivalent of eighteen years old, and life in the settlement remained a constant struggle.

In the command section re-purposed from half-collapsed cargo modules, Command Sergeant Icarus of the Special Projects Group (SPG) scrutinized a flickering holomap. His austere expression betrayed both exhaustion and unwavering resolve. Once deployed for pinpoint operations, his elite SPG troopers were now in daily scrambles for food, fuel, and any resource that could keep the settlement alive.
“We’ve finally managed to open a line of trade with that outpost near the Heims,” Levente said quietly, shaking off the cold. The year had etched harsh lines into his face and frost into his hair. Still, his voice carried a note of cautious optimism. “They’re willing to barter winter gear and some dried food in exchange for tools.”

Icarus nodded, eyes flicking up at the mention of the new trade possibilities. Around them, newly thawed colonists,engineers, medics, and farmers, crowded the makeshift ops bay. For many of these civilians, the shift from suspended animation to the grim realities of a frozen wasteland had been jarring. Yet the promise of exchanging tools for winter clothing and food lit a spark of collective hope.

Outside, the wind battered the settlement walls like a living thing, echoing with the distant howls of Vaesen that still roamed the Direth Mountains. Everyone understood the stakes. If these fragile trade ties held, Camp Aegis might outlast another deadly winter. If not, the settlement’s meager stores would run dry, and the creatures prowling beyond the barricades would seize the moment.

Sergeant Major Barná, Commander Icarus, and the newly awakened colonists all eyed the future with a mix of trepidation and determination bound together, by the knowledge that they would need every possible advantage just to survive.

 

[Shadowwalker]

Private Tillery stood sentinel against the rugged walls of the settlement, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. In his hands, he cradled a cup of recaff, a bitter concoction made from reused beans that had been watered down and salvaged from the last pot, yet he had managed to coax a bit of cream into it, adding a touch of comfort to the otherwise harsh brew. The warmth of the drink seeped into his palms, providing a small reprieve from the biting chill of the wind that nipped at his cheeks. His ginger beard, though thick, offered little protection against the cold, and he found himself grateful for the small solace the recaff provided as he fought to stay alert.

The distant howls of creatures lurking in the mountains sent a shiver down his spine, prompting him to absently rub the dent in his armor a remnant from a chaotic encounter a year prior. Those early days had been a whirlwind of confusion and danger, a time when survival felt like a constant battle. As he stood there, he couldn't shake the worry that their recent trades exchanging tools for food and winter gear might not hold up under the strain of the harsh season ahead. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him, and he hoped fervently that their efforts would bear fruit, ensuring the safety and well-being of those who depended on him.

 

[Wolf626]

There was a lean shadow that stood alone in the ops bay, fletching arrows for his bow. The year had been strange to Thorrfen. Meeting the star people of Babel, these odd not magicians that wielded lightning and iron to strange purposes. Being their source of knowledge when it came to Vaesen, to the language of the Heims and more. It had been busy. and that had been a blessing.

Less time to think about the fact that he was a monster.

Ice green eyes lifted from the missile he had crafted, staring instead to the draugr, Barna. The half-dead thing that wore the face of a man.

Strange days. Saga worthy days.

"Leave soon. Time is enemy. Snow is enemy. Vaesen, enemy. Quick good," The young man said in the tongue of Babel, the basic nature of his knowledge evident in how accented and awkward it sounded.