- Joined
- Jun 3, 2020
- Messages
- 70
- Thread Author
- #1
<:: Personal Datafile, COLLAR-07887, DESIGNATE 'Kyrn'Auth' ::>
<::Accessing Datafile...::>
.
..
...
Limited Access Granted, Full Access Level insufficient.
<:: Loyalties log, statement by XRAY-[REDACTED] ::>
"Subject has proven Obedient level activity, yet to reach Conformist. I know why, too. It knows, someone told it, that if it proves itself too loyal, it will get that Nullification. You should see the way it squirms at the mention of that operation. Hilarious stuff. When you ask if it wants such an operation done, it'll avidly deny any offer."
"Anyways."
"I know it's a mask, its in these things' natures to seek freedom. I'd trust it as far as I could throw it not to slide a knife in between my ribs and twist the damn thing. And it's a big fucker, too. I couldn't throw it very far. It's a quiet, observing type. There's a lot going on behind those weird, freaky eyes. It's regularly spotted by Scanners traveling in-and-out of the slums area, but beyond that we can't trace its activity."
"During the most recent Tyradium Crystal activity, it just stood there, watching the nearby soldiers that were monitoring ways out of the City, into the Slums. It kept muttering stuff to itself, like it were hearing voices and talking back to them. I personally don't think these things get Schizophrenia, so its' definitely got some ties down below."
"I'll keep watching it and see what happens."
<:: END LOG ::>
Elyse Jacobs
One that might be designated a surrogate mother, were we inclined. She is the one to take us in, teach us the ways of the City, and develop our vocal skills in the Common Tongue- English, she insists it is called. She seeks to see us freed at any cost, but the one cost that we would not stand would be her own end. We feel that if there is any one person we would violate our vow of Peace for, it would be her.
Tuu'By'Llam
Any and all within this organization has our undying loyalty to a fault. It has welcomed us with open arms, taken our inquiries and very limited advice seriously, and mentored us further in our yet-detached ways of The Vortigaunt. We may not desire to join in Coterminity, but we respect the opinions and advice of it all the same.
The Sentinels
A nebulous group, these. We hear their name around every corner, and are told that they are a trusted friend of the Tuu'By'Llam. In turn we will extend our own trust, though we have never personally laid eyes upon nor greeted a member of their ranks.
"Kompot"
Speaking of nebulous individuals, the Kompot is a reserved specimen of its kind. Difficult to extract any explanation out of to a fault, but one that has offered its assistance time and again, and so we would extend that very same courtesy.
"Flash"
An individual similar to Kompot and the Sentinels. It keeps its cards close to its chest, but will accept a nice walk from time to time and discussions besides. It shares not its name, but such is something we believe to be a close-kept secret for a reason.
"Yuri"
A trusted individual within the confines of the Tuu'by'Llam. It would lay its life down for this one, and this one would do the same for itself.
Cyrus
Our own ilk, and yet different, on a fundamental level. It is not this one's fault, Honored Peer, that you are considered quiet or savage. Instead, it is a failure of us as a whole that there are those whom would label you such. Upon our freedom, we promise you this. We will find a presentable option to mend that which was not within your control to sever.
Rastaman Idris
An unknown quantity, to be sure. We know you, of blue band and so equally blue blood. We extend our trust to you- but marginally, until we may confirm where, truly, your loyalties lie.
<::Accessing Datafile...::>
.
..
...
Limited Access Granted, Full Access Level insufficient.
<:: Loyalties log, statement by XRAY-[REDACTED] ::>
"Subject has proven Obedient level activity, yet to reach Conformist. I know why, too. It knows, someone told it, that if it proves itself too loyal, it will get that Nullification. You should see the way it squirms at the mention of that operation. Hilarious stuff. When you ask if it wants such an operation done, it'll avidly deny any offer."
"Anyways."
"I know it's a mask, its in these things' natures to seek freedom. I'd trust it as far as I could throw it not to slide a knife in between my ribs and twist the damn thing. And it's a big fucker, too. I couldn't throw it very far. It's a quiet, observing type. There's a lot going on behind those weird, freaky eyes. It's regularly spotted by Scanners traveling in-and-out of the slums area, but beyond that we can't trace its activity."
"During the most recent Tyradium Crystal activity, it just stood there, watching the nearby soldiers that were monitoring ways out of the City, into the Slums. It kept muttering stuff to itself, like it were hearing voices and talking back to them. I personally don't think these things get Schizophrenia, so its' definitely got some ties down below."
"I'll keep watching it and see what happens."
<:: END LOG ::>
The Arrival
Hmmmh. Where to start...
The Beginning is much too early, mayhap we begin our winding tale as we arrived.
True to many of those that found themselves foisted here, it began in a heat-haze desert under the order of the Nihilanth. However, not even a day after, the voice that permeated our being with orders and tellings ceased to be, and it was with a renewed vigor that we escaped dark halls of concrete and rebar, desperately avoiding any and all combat.
We have yet seen enough combat for one lifetime in those short twenty-four hours, we wish not to visit such atrocities upon any other living being should this one have any such say. This body deftly, and only just, evicted itself from the hellish halls filled with things startlingly familiar and yet, alien. Bipedal, hairless, small things that our connection to the Vortessence would inform of us as human, killed kinsmen in droves- but this one, this singular mind, saw the truth of things. We were, at this moment, all pawns acting in accordance to greater wills.
So this one disobeyed that will, it fled. Out into the wasteland, away from any and all slaughter within those corridors. It was with a strange breath of strangely familiar air, that we wandered the desert, and learned to survive. Not only, but to thrive!
Did you know that cacti contain a startling amount of water for such a dry place? Some of them even have fruits!
The Past, come to Haunt
And so, by day and by night, we hunt, sleep, and travel our way across this waste. We crossed rivers, plateaus, canyons and valleys.
Until the Storms occurred. Monstrous things, hellish to behold and even worse to be caught within. We were but fraught with luck, to not be caught inside such things, and the War occurred. All under our unknowing nose. It is through our dreams, through the Vortessence, that we had learned our kind had not yet escaped its master. Not that of the Nihilanth- something new, something terrible.
Not so long after, during our Travels, it is within this Wasteland that the screaming, racket of bio-engineered nightmares of the Combine bore down on this one. It is with great fear of the unknowable future that we submitted ourself for capture. Once free of our binds, now re-applied under something infinitely more clinical, more devilish and cunning than one could ever imagine.
The Present
It is with heavy heart that we found ourself quickly relocated to Terminal Nine.
We were... not obedient then, rioting against our binds and shackles and receiving much punishment for it. Even so far as to be put within one of the pods. They drained me of all but the barest energy required to keep our mind functional, and left us within the bare cell in which we decayed with no food and little water. Day by day they used us as a vessel, a battery to power their infernal machinations.
However, slow as we were at learning, learn we did. We learned that to keep ones head down, to avoid contact with any Soldier or Enforcer was to ensure their ire not returned. And so with the scrape of our feet, the clench of our claws, the grinding inane nature by which we were forced to live, we obeyed. We kept our head down, and in turn we were transferred off to our next destination.
The Seventeenth City.
This was but yet another interim in our journey before we would find ourself at our first permanent station. It is much the same as Cities Twenty-Four, and to City Eight. We were designated general sanitation, and so Sanitize we did. Such actions were not documented as obedience, for the Overwatch and their Machine God thought it ridiculous a notion that our form needed something so outrageous as incentive to serve. It was simply expected of us.
We suffer abuse at the hands of loyalists and Soldiers and Enforcers alike here, in this place. But we do not begrudge them this, it is what the system of calculated torment has bid their due. We trust them to act according to their nature, and their nature is, above all else, to survive and to thrive. If that entails stepping upon the backs of those lesser, far be it from us to hate them for obeying what they know.
The Twenty-fourth City
We find ourself here, now, still young and still learning. We had no allies, no companions to assist us in the Seventeenth city, but here, away from the seat of power, it would be different. Slow of tongue, still unknowing in anything but the bare-bones of the Common Tongue, we were thrust into this place, and told to clean. Much similar to City Seventeen.
Now, however, begins the true journey. One of learning, of strife, of striving and starving.
Hmmmh. Where to start...
The Beginning is much too early, mayhap we begin our winding tale as we arrived.
True to many of those that found themselves foisted here, it began in a heat-haze desert under the order of the Nihilanth. However, not even a day after, the voice that permeated our being with orders and tellings ceased to be, and it was with a renewed vigor that we escaped dark halls of concrete and rebar, desperately avoiding any and all combat.
We have yet seen enough combat for one lifetime in those short twenty-four hours, we wish not to visit such atrocities upon any other living being should this one have any such say. This body deftly, and only just, evicted itself from the hellish halls filled with things startlingly familiar and yet, alien. Bipedal, hairless, small things that our connection to the Vortessence would inform of us as human, killed kinsmen in droves- but this one, this singular mind, saw the truth of things. We were, at this moment, all pawns acting in accordance to greater wills.
So this one disobeyed that will, it fled. Out into the wasteland, away from any and all slaughter within those corridors. It was with a strange breath of strangely familiar air, that we wandered the desert, and learned to survive. Not only, but to thrive!
Did you know that cacti contain a startling amount of water for such a dry place? Some of them even have fruits!
The Past, come to Haunt
And so, by day and by night, we hunt, sleep, and travel our way across this waste. We crossed rivers, plateaus, canyons and valleys.
Until the Storms occurred. Monstrous things, hellish to behold and even worse to be caught within. We were but fraught with luck, to not be caught inside such things, and the War occurred. All under our unknowing nose. It is through our dreams, through the Vortessence, that we had learned our kind had not yet escaped its master. Not that of the Nihilanth- something new, something terrible.
Not so long after, during our Travels, it is within this Wasteland that the screaming, racket of bio-engineered nightmares of the Combine bore down on this one. It is with great fear of the unknowable future that we submitted ourself for capture. Once free of our binds, now re-applied under something infinitely more clinical, more devilish and cunning than one could ever imagine.
The Present
It is with heavy heart that we found ourself quickly relocated to Terminal Nine.
We were... not obedient then, rioting against our binds and shackles and receiving much punishment for it. Even so far as to be put within one of the pods. They drained me of all but the barest energy required to keep our mind functional, and left us within the bare cell in which we decayed with no food and little water. Day by day they used us as a vessel, a battery to power their infernal machinations.
However, slow as we were at learning, learn we did. We learned that to keep ones head down, to avoid contact with any Soldier or Enforcer was to ensure their ire not returned. And so with the scrape of our feet, the clench of our claws, the grinding inane nature by which we were forced to live, we obeyed. We kept our head down, and in turn we were transferred off to our next destination.
The Seventeenth City.
This was but yet another interim in our journey before we would find ourself at our first permanent station. It is much the same as Cities Twenty-Four, and to City Eight. We were designated general sanitation, and so Sanitize we did. Such actions were not documented as obedience, for the Overwatch and their Machine God thought it ridiculous a notion that our form needed something so outrageous as incentive to serve. It was simply expected of us.
We suffer abuse at the hands of loyalists and Soldiers and Enforcers alike here, in this place. But we do not begrudge them this, it is what the system of calculated torment has bid their due. We trust them to act according to their nature, and their nature is, above all else, to survive and to thrive. If that entails stepping upon the backs of those lesser, far be it from us to hate them for obeying what they know.
The Twenty-fourth City
We find ourself here, now, still young and still learning. We had no allies, no companions to assist us in the Seventeenth city, but here, away from the seat of power, it would be different. Slow of tongue, still unknowing in anything but the bare-bones of the Common Tongue, we were thrust into this place, and told to clean. Much similar to City Seventeen.
Now, however, begins the true journey. One of learning, of strife, of striving and starving.
Elyse Jacobs
One that might be designated a surrogate mother, were we inclined. She is the one to take us in, teach us the ways of the City, and develop our vocal skills in the Common Tongue- English, she insists it is called. She seeks to see us freed at any cost, but the one cost that we would not stand would be her own end. We feel that if there is any one person we would violate our vow of Peace for, it would be her.
Tuu'By'Llam
Any and all within this organization has our undying loyalty to a fault. It has welcomed us with open arms, taken our inquiries and very limited advice seriously, and mentored us further in our yet-detached ways of The Vortigaunt. We may not desire to join in Coterminity, but we respect the opinions and advice of it all the same.
The Sentinels
A nebulous group, these. We hear their name around every corner, and are told that they are a trusted friend of the Tuu'By'Llam. In turn we will extend our own trust, though we have never personally laid eyes upon nor greeted a member of their ranks.
"Kompot"
Speaking of nebulous individuals, the Kompot is a reserved specimen of its kind. Difficult to extract any explanation out of to a fault, but one that has offered its assistance time and again, and so we would extend that very same courtesy.
"Flash"
An individual similar to Kompot and the Sentinels. It keeps its cards close to its chest, but will accept a nice walk from time to time and discussions besides. It shares not its name, but such is something we believe to be a close-kept secret for a reason.
"Yuri"
A trusted individual within the confines of the Tuu'by'Llam. It would lay its life down for this one, and this one would do the same for itself.
Cyrus
Our own ilk, and yet different, on a fundamental level. It is not this one's fault, Honored Peer, that you are considered quiet or savage. Instead, it is a failure of us as a whole that there are those whom would label you such. Upon our freedom, we promise you this. We will find a presentable option to mend that which was not within your control to sever.
Rastaman Idris
An unknown quantity, to be sure. We know you, of blue band and so equally blue blood. We extend our trust to you- but marginally, until we may confirm where, truly, your loyalties lie.
Last edited:
