What is it you really want, a Soulmate
or just a Perfect Warrior?

                Chapter the First

Where magic gets a little confused by the modern world

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Hi, I’m Alice, not that you'd believe me to look at me. I know my parents love me, but they only see Hans, they can't get past what my body looks like. Things wouldn’t be so bad if I could just shave all this horrible fuzz off of me, but my “failed suicide” made the shrinks insist I not be allowed near sharp objects, so if I did, they'd know I’d broken the rules and I’d be sent off to the ‘Happy House’ again. I only got out last time when an orderly noticed my hair wasn't growing back and got the docs to finally believe me when I said I’d gotten my friend
Carla to Nair it all off.

                Right yes, Carla, she’s my best/only real friend, her, her little brother and their mam's are the only people in real life who properly accept me as Alice, and their house is the only place I can be me, even if I don’t look it. I mean, yes, I am very jealous of Carla, and her
second mam, and how well both of their transitions are going, but even with how much it hurts seeing things going so well for them, it’s still better than being at home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

                “Are you sure this is a good idea? The last four known times someone has attempted this spell it has drawn an uncontrollable fighter whose first act is invariably to kill everyone involved in summoning them.”

                “That’s what the second spell is for, and why you need to be the first thing they see when they arive your highness.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

                So that’s me, a 15 year old, 6 foot 3 tall, 2 foot wide, 18 stone transgirl with as much bodyhair as a whole pack of dogs. thankfully
my voice hadn’t broken yet when I did... it, so at least I sound right, and it’s so fun watching peoples reaction when this soft feminine voice comes out of a lump like me. I much prefer dealing with people in cyberspace over meatspace, people hear my voice and accept me as a girl, plus I kick serious ass in games and it helps me forget about the hairy flesh sack I’m trapped in...

~~~~~~~~~~

                “I still don’t think that this is what that prophesy meant, even if it actually does refer to me.”

                “Please relax your highness, we have been preparing for this for 15 years, we have thought of every possibility, have faith.”

~~~~~~~~~

                “Allie, why don’t you let me do the Nair thing again? It worked really well last time, and it did come back thinner.”

                “Because I can’t risk them locking me up again, I couldn’t bear it, you don’t know just how bad it was.”

                “But, you got out last time, they wouldn’t take you straight back there, not if you tell them what’s going on.”

                “Right, because that worked out so well last time, I only got out because they only had one orderly strong enough to hold me
down, and he eventually noticed it.”

                “But but...”

                “Enough Carla, I just want to sit here and kill aliens, can we just leave the ‘dealing with Allie’s self image shite’ till the weekend, when we can get some booze.”

~~~~~~~~

                “We’re ready to begin your highness, please kneel down in that circle and press the tip of your left thumb to the spike.”

~~~~~~~

                After about two hours, and three changes of game, we both start to get fed up of the whining of the pre-pubescent idiots that seem to infest every online game, and things inevitably drift back to talking to each other instead of other players.

                “I’m sorry Allie, I know things are so much easier for me, but it hurts me too, watching you push yourself down when you leave here, I just thought it might make you feel a little better.”

                “I know, but you just don’t get it, maybe if I went to the doctors first and got explicit permission first. You didn’t see dad’s face when I came home hairless and he freaked, not angry, scared, and... AHHHH!!” blinding pain shoots through my body.

~~~~~~

                Upon the altar before the young prince and the royal court mages, magical energy begins to coalesce into a vaguely humanoid form.

~~~~~

                The pain is horrific, worse than anything I’ve ever felt, and I can hear Carla and her mams shouting for help and can feel them trying to hold me in place as I’m thrashing about. And then it all stops, and for a moment everything is completely peaceful, no sound, no pain,
and there’s just a muted sky blue glow that surrounds me.

~~~~

                As the magical glow fades, the young prince steps up to the scandalously clothed body curled up on the altar, covering her with a sheet to protect her modesty. “How long until she wakes?”

                “Every other warrior summoned with this spell has arrived fully aware, and, from their attitude, apparently straight from combat. I am not sure what has happened this time, I don’t see how either of the other spells would do this your highness.”

~~~

                ... What...

~~

                “She doesn’t look much like a warrior does she? Beautiful though.”

~

                I open my lower eye, just enough to see but hopefully not enough to be noticed. From where I’m lying, on what feels like cold stone, I can see what looks like an old stone church, a bunch of creepy old dudes in grotty robes and feel someone just moving out of my sight near my head. The person walking around me speaks up again, “well she didn’t immediately rip us all limb from limb, so at least that’s worked out better this time.” He, and he is definitely a He, steps into my eye line, and looks so... right, that I can’t keep from opening my eyes fully and locking mine with his.

                “Good morning milady, are you well?”

                “The fuck are you talking too?”

                “Well, you, obviously, you’re the only beautiful maiden here aren’t you?”

                “That patronising bollocks isn’t funny, I know how bad I look, you don’t need to make fun about it.” My body is still too twitchy and tingly-numb from the pain to get up, so I roll myself to face away from them.

                “I’m sorry if I have offended you somehow, that truly wasn’t my intention, but I really do not understand your hostility.”

                “Look, your highness, I know what I am, there’s no point taking the mick over what I’ll never be.”

                “I am just being honest, are you saying that you are not the incredibly beautiful girl laying before me? That that is somehow a deception?”

                “Are you blind?” I flick the sheet off of me, “what part of me looks like a beaut...” as I move, I feel my body move in an unexpected way and glance down...

                ...

                ...That’s different... that is very different... um... panic...

                “AAHHHHHHH!”

                What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

                Chapter the Second

Where our heroine plays with herself and her new boytoy a bit

~~~~~~

                “AAAAHH!”  What the hell is going on! Right, get a hold of yourself Alice, there’s some sane explanation for this... maybe. Need time to think, get off this altar first. The altar is to one end of the ‘church’ so I roll off to the side away from the door, and all those old guys... mages? Next check my body out, see what has changed, start at the top: Hair; same length, same colour, feels finer... or cleaner. Face; brow feels smaller, nose too, no beard... um yay, mental happy dance. Arms; finer, no hair there either, hands seem smaller, nails still done pretty, chips and smeg gone.

Chest... well I’ve got one, that’s first... is it bad form to grope myself in front of a prince? Tie-dye tank looks like it’s shrunk, nicely fitted, belly on show, denim vest hasn’t, feels like everything is still in the pockets. Belly; even more no-hair, no chubby gut, piercing doesn’t look stupid anymore. Legs; still got them, that’s always good, combats are way more fitted, like seam up my arse cleave fitted, purples look okay, the white’s gone tan though, belt hasn’t shrunk... meh its a paracord braid, pull it in a knot for now, can fix that later, no bulge... doesn’t feel like I’m tucked... no bulge... more yay, something else to play with in private. Feet; smaller, boots fitting better, feels like the wear inside is gone, treads look new, they’re clean and... yep tools are still in them.

Okay, clothes and hair suggest I’m still me...ish... now, mirror out of jacket, deep breath, and... wow... face is still me, only pretty... like proper pretty, it’s still my face, just... nicer... I’m pretty...

“Milady, are you alright?” Oh great, please don’t cry, not in front of the hot boy.

“Better than ‘alright’. Just what exactly did you and your pet spellslingers do to me?” Are they goodies or baddies... woah where did that HUD come from... okay, its highlighting him green and all the crap around us in white. Quick look... all the mage guys are green too... hope that that does mean they’re goodies.

“We were trying to summon a great warrior to aid us with a prophesy, that is to say a specific warrior...”

 “You fucking Narnia’d me? Seriously?” huh, when I focus on him there’s a name label; Prince Iason.

“I sorry, I don’t know what that word means.” He looks cute when he’s confused.

“Oh, right, on my world magically kidnapping children and teens for prophetic reasons to fight off ultimate evils is a bit of a played out story trope. So I sort of get what you’ve done too me Iason, but I’m still a little fuzzy on why you’ve done it to me.”

“How do you know my name?” yep, I’m going to have so much fun with this cutie, and that set up is just too good.

“Magic!” Okay, the jazz hands are probably a little too much. “And don’t avoid the question, if you’re expecting me to be able to help, it might help me to know what the smeg is going on.”

“Umm well it’s actually a little embarrassing. See, when I was born there was a seer there, a well respected and reliable seer, and she came out with a prophesy that...” The church doors burst open and a fairly dirty looking warrior and a fairly stereotypical looking (chocolate) elf ranger run in and slam them closed again.

“Your Highness, we need to retreat, there’s two full companies of Black Knights in the next valley, heading this way. Did you cast the spell? Did it work?”

“Yes sergeant, and I think... hope so.” Oh wow, never had a guy look at me like that...

The fanciest looking mage speaks up, “Your Highness, you need to take the girl and the things that arrived with her, and take the tunnel out of here, we will hold them here and prevent them from following you.” He turns to the youngest, and most delicate, looking one of his peons, “Go with them, they will need you on their quest.”

Wait, are five old geezers really going to try and fight two hundred(ish?) knights... shit, and it looks like everyone is agreeing with it... just what kind of fucked up situation am I in... best stand up and make myself known... and useful, “um, how can I help?” And, from the looks on the new lot’s faces, I am really not what they were expecting.

“If you feel up to it, take some of those bags down to the cellar, we’ll join you as soon as we’ve packed up the rest of our effects.” Okay, so he’s not just a pretty face, it looks like commanding comes naturally to him. The bags aren’t too bad, more bulky than heavy, but it’s easy to carry four of them down the stairs at once. I think I still have all my old strength, I don’t feel weaker... that’s going to be a fun surprise for the first cockwomble to try giving me shit.

The cellar looks just like the ones in every fantasy adventure ever, so there’s either a secret wall, or we’re going down that culvert in the corner. Quick look... and yep, large shaft down to what looks like an underground stream... and cool, looks like this HUD thingie has light enhancement features. “Well, looks like you’ve already found the way out, good.” It’s the sergeant... ‘Häming’ according to my HUD, and he’s got a basket and rope. “Let’s be quick about this, I’d really rather not be anywhere near here when they find this.”

“Okay Häming, you belay me and I’ll go down first, just divn’t drop bags on my head once I’m down, yeah?” no hesitation from him... just how important am I right now? And no reaction to knowing his name either, must have been warned about that trick already, damn.

~~~~~~

                I was right about the stream, but it looks like this chamber has been used for this a lot, loads of carved shelves on the walls and barrels of ‘preserved’ food. The mage panicked the whole way down in the basket, and seemed put out when I said, “you’d best get that under control Markys, I suspect we’re ganna have to deal with much more scary smeg than a bleeding basket.”

                It doesn’t take long to get the others and the bags down, the Elf, Aerilaya, (who’s gender I totally cannot work out) dropping down without using the rope and landing as if they just stepped off a curb, and Iason and Häming belaying each other down.

                “I fear I have been remiss milady, you seem to know all of our names somehow, but we have not asked of yours. Would you do me the honour of knowing your name?” Why is he so smegging cute, it’s totally not fair.

                “It’s Alice, Alice Olo. Friends call me Allie”

~~~~~~

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

                Chapter the Third

Where we experience a stereotypical adventurer’s first fight (because of course we do)

~~~~~~

It’s a weird sensation, not getting shit about my name (either one), and as they all give the requisite introductory platitudes, I take the chance to take a proper look at the tunnels. The upstream path looks easy to traverse, nice wide passage with a minimum of obstructions in the section I can see. Downstream looks rough and untamed... and has a dirty great grate in the way... that is lit up by my HUD just like all the other unfixed objects I’ve seen so far, so obviously there’s a hidden lock and it’ll turn out the way for us to follow that path.

“So, which of you knows the trick to that grate? It’s kinda obvious that that’s the way we’re ganna gan innnit, so we might as well be about it.” Should I stop being such a smart arse?... I should probably stop being such a smart arse... nah fuck it, its ages since I’ve had this much fun. “Should we lay a bit of a false trail? Drop some of these barrels upstream, break’em on the rocks?”

Häming laughs and smacks Iason on the shoulder, “you’re going to have a bit of fun with this one, and go for it Allie, you too Markys.” He tosses a barrel to each of us then squats down at the grate, digging around under the water on the other side of it. Lock must be some hidden spike, probably with a normal stone stuck on top.

“But... this is grunt work...” We’re going to have to break him out of this... prissiness(?)

“Yep, you’re in the army now.” The temptation is too great, and I just have to sing, “*Oh, oh you're in the army... now...* So suck it up, do you want to get caught?” I should probably tone down the pop-culture smeg too, ganna start sounding like a John Crichton level mentalist, end up dancing on tables and threatening peace conventions with nukes.

It’s fairly easy for us to make it look like we scarpered out quickly, leaving a few broken barrels near the chamber, and another pair at the corner where the path moves out of sight. Just as we finish up and start heading back to the others, there are squeaks and hisses from behind us. Markys scarpers, leaving me to turn and see a pair of (worryingly large) rats in the passageway, my HUD bordering them with a red glow. Woohoo way to be fucking stereotypical universe, fighting rats at the start of an adventure and all I’ve got is a long screwdriver and a pair of scissors...

As I reach down to pull them from my boots... something... flows through me... sort of like the disorientation when something breaks immersion in a game... only backwards... Two Targets- left is closer- snap a firm kick with left leg- left target pushed back- pull screwdriver from right boot- throw at right target- left target approaching again- step forwards- jump and stamp on left target- pull screwdriver from right target- stab repeatedly... WOAH... the fuck did that come from... just what did they do to me...

 “Well, at least we know you can fight Rats,” Aerilaya looks like they are either disgusted or amused, “although if you’re going to leave a mess like that every time, I might just rethink joining this group.” Right, Disgusted.

When we re-join the rest of the group, Häming has gotten the grate open and they are loading themselves up with bags and supplies. I take my share, still feels weird having all my old strength in this smaller body, seems like bulk more than weight is going to be my encumbrance limit.

“Hey Aerie, what’s that look for?” Häming actually looks amused, while Iason is focused on getting Markys ready to move out.

“...She fights like you eat.”

~~~~~~

The tunnel actually manages to be worse to follow than it looks, with pot holes hidden under the water, narrow slots that need us to pass the baggage through separately (so glad I’m not that fat bastard still), low roofs that we have to swim under (so, so glad Markys knows a waterproofing cantrip), moss and algae that make everthing slippery, side channels that create swirling vortices that throw us about, the fear of being followed keeping conversation to an absolute bare minimum, two medieval glowsticks our only source of light,  and instead of Iason's super cute bootay to look at, I’m stuck behind Häming and his middle age arse.

We eventually reach the point where the tunnel widens out and there’s the glow of light coming from further down the passage. A quick look at my phone (that has no signal) puts our trip at nearly 4 hours without a real break, which we finally get in a (mostly) dry hollow in a side tunnel. As Häming starts breaking out food, the rest of us settle down, Markys complaining over the exertion, Iason about neither of the (at this point, laughing) veterans warning him that full-plate was going to be a bad choice today and Aerilaya taking first watch outside our camp/hollow. I do the only sensible thing, given that it’s effectively 11pm for my body, and it was a school day before all this smeg started, and go to sleep.

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where we get to see the aftermath of how things looked on Earth (also an assorted selection of Alice's weird dreams)

~~~~~~

The Hospital room was quiet other than the beeps, bleeps, whirrs, clicks and dings of all the tech hooked up to the patient laying comatose and the quiet sobbing of the 6 year old boy sat at the foot of the bed.

“Is she ganna to be okay? They aren’t ganna lock her up again are they?”

“No Ben, they aren’t going to lock up someone in a coma, and they definitely won’t try it when she wakes up if your other mother has anything to say about it.”

~~~~~~

The ballroom is filled with pretty pretty people, wearing pretty pretty clothes. Perfect flawless faces surround me, miles of lace and brocade twisted into vast cyclones of material. Bolts of black lightning blasting from the storm strike at an armoured figure, as they cut their way to me through the crowd of twisted leering visages.

~~~~~~

“Carla, I can’t help if you keep keeping secrets about Hans.”

“Her name is Alice you jumped up, pompous slag.”

“Fine then, what were you and Alice talking about that set her off this time.”

“What do you care, why are you even involved? Didn’t Mr Olo promise to cut your heart out with a lemon if you came near his child again?”

“Unfortunately for him, he is ‘unavoidably detained’ elsewhere, and I am the only child psych on duty tonight, so you are stuck with me.”

~~~~~

“Surely you can move faster than that!” The old master with terrifyingly wide eyes doesn’t let up, launching flurries of blows with his staff, and I am only able to block two out of three of them. “Your purpose is too great for you to fight against yourself while also fighting your enemies.”

“Then what would you suggest, you’re the teacher, teach.”

“You must release yourself to battle, let yourself immerse into the flow of combat, only then can your warrior spirits join with your true self.”

~~~~~

The scared young boy is joined by his big sister, and they curl up together at the foot of the bed. Their mothers watch on, proud of both children for their unconditional love for their unconscious friend.

“Amanda, did they say what’s wrong with her?”

“No, they really don’t know, her brain activity is normal for someone who is actually awake and doing something and they can’t find any reason for her to be out like this.”

“So it’s just a waiting game, keep her alive till she wakes up on her own?”

“Yes, and until then we have to keep our two from being too effected by it.”

“I really hate this.”

“I know Lauren, I do too.”

~~~~~

LETMEGOLETMEGOPLEASEPLEASELETMEGO

~~~~~

“Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Burns-Fields, can we talk a abou-“ the rather stuck up child psych never got to finish what she said before two solid fists are thrown right into her face, the meaty thuds satisfying honour in the only way left since the end of legal duelling.

~~~~~

The water is stormy, and a short figure wearing overly large shoulder pads is smashing oranges resting on the rocks with a flying fish, a figure made of flowing blood with lots of little skulls floating in it, wearing a cloak made from a flag, reaches into the chest of a robed figure, whose head explodes into a mushroom cloud, and rips the sun out from its breast...

~~~~~

“How has that fucking bitch still got a medical licence?”

“Carla! Watch your mouth round your brother.”

"She had Allie Committed over smegging Nair, how rational is that, tried to fight her release too."

"It's going to be sorted sweetheart, she won't be involved again."

~~~~~

I reach into the glowing water in the well, lifting the globe free from the black tendrils holding it down. My arms split open, the tears reaching up my body, my skin falling off into the water in rotting clumps.

~~~~~

“I am terribly sorry, you can be sure that she will not be involved in this matter any further.”

“She had better not, and she had better not have any of the files about it still.”

~~~~~

I’m falling, through a storm, surrounded by all sorts of things, from tiny trinkets to full sized warships, everything moving independently, but nothing hitting anything else, an aerial ballet of debris and chaos.

~~~~~

The room is quiet, the children in the bed asleep or unaccountably unconscious, and the adults sitting together in the largest chair watching.

~~~~~

The cathedral is packed with guests, all looking towards me with affection as I make my way down the aisle towards the altar.  As I pass one of the guards with shining armour, I see the reflections of the guests with different expressions, a cruel dehumanising glare. The figure awaiting me at the altar seems... unstructured, faceless shape, just filling a role and-

*BLLLLAAAARRRRPPP*

Who is smegging about with an air horn this early in the morning?!

 

 

 

---

 

Authors note: Is what is going on understandable? In this chapter and the story as a whole. I have a niggling suspicion that I've obfuscated things too much and things only make sense to me because I know what is going on.

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where Allie puts together some answers (and creates more questions for herself) and has a weird moment about there being a boat... underground

~~~~~~

*BLLLLAAAARRRRPPP*

Uuggghh, too early for this shit...

“Come on people, time to move out.” I didn’t notice yesterday just how grating Häming’s voice is.

*BLLLLAAAARRRRPPP*

“Okay, okay, I’m up, you can smegging quit it with the air horn!”

A new voice, with a beautiful, natural sounding musical twang to it calls out from the main tunnel, “Hurry up please, the Commander doesn’t like sitting waiting underground.”

“Alice! Markys! Get up and help load the boat.” Is he an ex-drill sergeant or the ilk?

Wait... Boat?!? We’re in an underground tunnel, where did a smegging boat come from. Ow, ow, ow, crick in my neck... sleeping on bare rock wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had. Markys looks as bad as I feel, and the other three look fine, other than the proper hacky looks they’re shooting at us (for sleeping through all the carrying?)

It feels a bit embarrassing carrying one of the smaller bags, given how many we actually have, and by a bit, I mean my face is probably brighter than those shitty glow-sticks(jars/flasks/whatevers). Huh, HUD turned itself off, good; divn’t want that overlay all the time... but light amplification seems proper useful right bout now.

*BLLLLAAAARRRRPPP*

Wow, I must have been proper tired last night... how the smeg did I not notice that this tunnel got so wide. It’s two meters tall and four wide and has side paths on both sides of the strea... Okay... there really is a boat on the stream... and three Hobbits/Gnomes/Kender/whatever in fancy uniforms carrying what look like flintlock muskets stood around it. The leader(? looks like it, he's got the most braid on him, HUD’s calling him Sararic Wavestomper) seems annoyed and irritated (which sounds comical with his beautifully tuned voice), “That the last of it? Good, we’re not waiting any longer.”

“Yes Lieutenant, that’s the last of it, we aren’t putting you out of your way are we?”... I think I need to take some quiet time to reflect on why I find this princeling so unbearably cute, like seriously how does he make sass seem proper manly.

“N-no your highness, certainly not. It’s just that we were expecting four people and a minimum of luggage, not five and a boat full. We are going to have to pull the boat through the shallows, and it’s a long way back to any of the channels that are open enough for the motor.” And I’m starting to wake up enough to notice things, like that the boat is a wood effect material (fibreglass maybe?), and that one of the other Halflings (Isenfast Proudgrip) is wearing a pair of proper 90’s style light up trainers, and that the boat has a smegging outboard motor perched on the back.

“Well we shall take it in turns to pull then, that seems the sensible solution, yes?”

“Ye-yes your highness. We should probably get started, who’ll take the first shift?” Poor bastard doesn’t seem prepared to handle royalty, especially not reasonable royalty.

A quick look at my phone (that has no signal) puts us at 3 in the morning... 4 hours sleep? That’s not right... probably ganna get shite off of Häming if I head right back to kip in the boat though... “I’ll take first shift on the left side, gizz’us the rope.” The third shortstack (one Adeleloc Deepcutter, got a nasty scar right round his throat) leans over the boat, holds the rope out with one hand and makes a move for my goth-mo fingerless glove/sleeve/thingies... and I have to pull back. “I divn’t care who you think you are, any of youse try touching me gloves again, I’ll rip your smeggin face off and rub sherbet into your face meats, ya’ get me.”

Too much? He’s looking pretty worried... okay, didn’t expect him to pull a blackboard of all things out of his doublet(? I suck with medieval mens clothing)...

-soft gloves no help with rope-

-have leather pair may fit-

-willing to lend-

“uh, yeah, that’d be great thanks. Divn’t need to take these off though,” the great thing about open finger hole gloves is, pop the thumb out, and you get free hands without having to take them off, “see, out the way. And um, sorry for gannin mental, it’s just...” He gets this weird look on his face, apologetic and understanding, and it feels genuine, not like a therapist fucking with empathy trick.

-I understand-

*BLLLLAAAARRRRPPP*

“That’s getting really smegging old.” Everyone (but Sararic) is nodding in agreement, probably trying to ignore my... outburst...

“No cannon fire with it, probably just merchant idiots getting too close being warned off. Now can we please get moving, it was a 3 hour trip up here, I’d like for it not to be much longer getting back.”

“If you marines handle keeping it off the rocks, I’ll do the right side, let the boys get a bit more sleep.”

“Do I have time for a bite o’ brekie before we start?” not giving them the chance to refuse, I know I’ve got 2 sections of chocolate covered Kendal mint cake in my pocket, that’ll do for a kick-start while the boys get in.

~~~~~~

Pulling the boat in near silence (with just occasional comments from the marines as to obstacles) for an hour, gives me plenty of (effectively) alone time to think about everything that I’ve seen and has been said.

Point the first: They summoned me here with a spell meant to draw ‘great warriors’ right out of combat. Theses warriors attack anyone in sight immediately, probably due to their blood being up, the immense pain of the transition, and being dragged away.

Point number two: I was playing games with Carla when it got me, and I am really good at them, so I was technically a ‘great warrior’ in the midst of combat.

Point C: I have a HUD inside my eyes, an as yet unexplored new fighting trance ability thing, and a totally... revised physique. So presumably, the magic they were using got confused as to meatspace and cyberspace.

Point iv: There is a prophesy, that requires either specifically me, or someone with a skill set and personality like mine to fulfil.

Point echo: There is other stuff that looks like it has arrived here from my world or other worlds like mine, enough that this upper crust lot’s only comment on my gear was probably about the fit of my tanktop and combats, not about their existence in and of themselves.

Supposition A: Something about one of the games I was playing gives me an ability that is necessary to fulfil this prophesy

Hypothesis the second: There is some piece of advanced technology that my knowledge is necessary to deal with for the prophesy

Speculation iii: This is all an hallucination, and I’m actually strapped up in a bed in hospital, with Ben and maybe Carla curled up at the foot of it.

Conclusion: Go along with things, at least until I get the lay of the land, and some privacy to see just what’s up with my new form.

 

 

 

 

---

Authors note: I had hoped to get further in this chapter, get into some of the details of the prophesy (and actually make it too the ship) but I didn't expect that getting on the boat would take so much time to write.

I'm kinda writing by the seat of me kegs here, trying to write at decent amount each week to try and be productive and get myself out of the lazy rut I've gotten stuck in. I have part of a plan, lets just see where it goes shall we

ps: I am totally happy to get constructive criticism, not ganna take it as a personal attack.

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where we finally get to hear (bits of details about) the Prophecy, and get to encounter an even bigger boat... underground

~~~~~~

...Volunteering to pull the boat for an hour wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Really, really far from the stupidest mind you, but still not very smart.

“Are you feeling all right Alice, you look like you’re flagging a bit.”

“Tired, divn’t get enough kip last night Laya, not much longer on our turn though, right?”

“Feels like we’ve done about an hour. And ‘Laya’?”

“Well Aerie and Allie sound way to similar to be practical once all the fighting that we’re clearly ganna have starts up and-“

“~Let the bodies hit the floor, Let the bodies hit the floor, Let the bodies hit the floor, Let the bodies hit the *tish~tish* FLOOOOORRR!~”

“What, in the name of all the gods, is that noise?”

“That el-tee, is the alarm on my magic noise box I done set when we started towing. So that’s an hour for us, time to wake the boys and let them have their turn.” At my suggestion, the other two marines each lean over, scoop up a double handful of water, and dump them over Häming and Iason's heads.

“Man Overboard!” – Iason

“What are you idiots playing at!” - Häming

~~~~~~

It takes us nearly five minutes to get them calmed down, everyone switched places and us moving again, and another five for me to get and eat some actual food... Okay, so its meat that’s so well done it feels like chewing leather (and that’s not a happy memory), but I think I need something other than sugar in me, starting to get a little loopy.

Everyone’s awake, and seems aware of things, time to get some smegging answers. Phone (that has no signal), iPod and Tablet set up to get everyone on video, right, let’s do this; “So, can someone tell me what this prophecy thing is all about? If it’s why I’m here, I should probably know a little about it. I mean obviously not the bits that knowing would prevent me fulfilling it, but the rest?”

“Yes, you probably should.  A lot of it is identifiers, which will be handled back at court, the actual prophecy parts are focused on a single event, a turning point in the current... conflict.” Häming is avoiding looking back as he speaks... knows more than he’s letting on?

“That’s all well and good, but then raises the further question; what the smeg is the ‘current conflict’? In case you divn’t notice, I ain’t from around here.”

“There is a cabal of Necromancers, Dark Sorcerers, Liches and others of similar persuasions, currently conquering the various petty kingdoms on the west side of the Altanth Ridge, most significantly, all the ones with good troop landing sites on the Western Vinder River, meaning it is incredibly difficult to help the few still independent ones.” It comes out in a bland monotone, as if Aerilaya is channelling a BBC newsreader.

“Oh... I think I’d like to go back to not knowing please...” And that’s without knowing how bad it is geographically... I need a map... and maybe a history book.

“If you are the subject of the prophecy, you won’t have to fight all of them, just a specific battle, that will supposedly weaken them in some way, so that they can be beaten in a conventional war.” Tiny bit of warmth in her voice... still a bit unsettling though, especially with how warm and silky her voice was before this.

“That’s not very reassuring... and I guess asking any specifics would be refused because you aren’t sure what I’m supposed to know or not?”

“That, and that there’s things you need to know that Iason can’t if things are to work, and also that saying something wrong might make things worse, it has happened before.” Hmm, getting a bit of a feeling like Häming is the real leader here, sound like he knows way more about what is going on than everyone else...

*BLLLLAAAARRRRPPP*

“As fun as this conversation is, could you leave it until we are back at the ship, it’s only a mile till the water is deep enough to use the motor, and I suspect the Comm...” Whatever the lieutenant was saying is drowned out by the sound of cannon fire. “Correction, the Commander is getting angry.”

At the cannon fire, everyone else got nervous, which killed the conversation (that the constant sound of air horns and cannons made conversation impractical didn’t help either). Iason and Häming speed up a bit, the rest of us keeping quiet except to point out obstructions in the way... well the others did, I took advantage of some passenger time to listen to some music and type out as much as I can remember about everything that’s going on and all my earlier hypotheses so I don’t forget any of it.

~~~~~~

Once we reach the channels where it’s safe to use the Outboard, our pace goes from lethargic all the way to plaid... or at least it feels like it. After a while the cannon fire drops away, and we just here the blarps of the air horn.  The light is getting brighter, but it’s not a natural daylight light, more a sort of icy blue/grey aura, lighting up the tunnel from the distant end, and also from this glowing moss like stuff that has started appearing on the walls.

Then, without any warning, we blast out of the reasonably sized tunnel we are in (about the size you’d expect for an under river road tunnel), into what has to be the main channel. It is MASSIVE, like smegging huge! The sides are so wide and the roof so high and the water so deep an entire American Carrier Group could get through here... side-by-side. The walls and roof and the sides underwater are all completely covered in the same moss stuff from the little tunnel and these crystal growths mixed right in amongst it, taking the glow from the moss and turning it into a rainbow of light.

And sat in the middle of the channel, about five hundred yards downstream of us, is a warship. It looks a bit like HMS Victory, if Victory had 6 gun decks and was painted purple. The marines seem relived, and Iason looks a little pleased with himself.

“Behold, the Flagship of the Imperial Fleet, the Pauldronius, named for my grandfather. So Allie, what do you think?”

“Well... That is a most majestic vessel, First Rate.

Looks a little pompous mind, bit like the house of some arrogant cattle baron.

Well organised, guards arranged with overlapping sightlines, no apparent blind spots.

- ANACHRONISTIC WEAPONS IN THE FORECASTLE, SHIP-TO-SHIP MISSILE LAUNCHERS INTEGRATED IN STRUCTURE, MULTI-BARREL AA GUN ON- -

...What the smeg was that!” Nope! Nope! Nope! “What did you freaks do to me! Whats goin...”

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where Allie discovers that Gnome built ships have Low ceilings

It was a very good thing that Alice was sat in the boat when she fainted; the River Vinder is not a forgiving one, the strong undercurrents dragging even the strongest swimmers to its depths.

“... What was that? Where did those voices come from?”

“You don’t know? After all that ‘oh we know what we’re doing’ stuff?”

“I wasn’t saying that, the Elders were saying that. I’m just as confused about all of this as you are Your Highness. Maybe more, this is my first time away from the Circle’s Tower since I was an infant”

“Can we please have this discussion aboard ship, we did hear a battle earlier. I would much rather be on the two-hundred-and-forty-eight gun warship made from ironwood if their friends turn up over being stuck in this effectively unarmed launch made of spun glass and resin. Those two might like to try it, but they are enlisted, I am an officer and am expected to show a little forethought.”

The Queen of Bats was quivering with excitement as her enemies’ commander lead them blindly into another ambush, but so far only her lieutenants had gotten to have fun with these feeble humans and their pathetic Pale Elf whores. Now however, the Half-Elf general had lead his (worn out) personal troop right past her hiding place, leaving them wide open to a rear charge from her (fresh and rested) unit of True Elf paladins.

The Elves tore through the humans, each of the dying knights fed the Queen’s magic, and she unleashed it in a blast of blue energy and swarms of bats, reducing the unit to just the (now even more pale) half-breed commander. But, just before she falls on him, his mirror polished shield shows her reflection. Only instead of the sharp, angular and deep indigo face, above highly decorated armour, there is a young, confused looking human girl, wearing quite eccentric clothes...

Clinton Terrell, Sheriff of Touchdown, Arizona, formerly Captain Clinton Terrell, US Cavalry, and his unlikely deputies; a Mexican Vaquero, an Apache huntsman, a Chinese gold miner, and, honest to god, a Train Robber, had had one hell of a day. The lizard-like creatures who have had the town under siege for weeks had been driven off, and he and his “deputies” had pursued them to their... fort...

After dispatching the guards, his team moved towards to door, where in its smooth metal surface, they saw their reflections... or not in the Sheriff’s case. Instead of his aged and rugged features and well-worn uniform, he looks at the image of a young girl, wearing peculiarly coloured trousers and an oversized, sleeveless denim shirt that’s covered in patches of elaborate artwork... and she is looking back at him with all the same confusion that he feels at it...

Agent 57 was having fun; the foreign agents acting against her and her team had fallen quickly to her peerless marksmanship, and nothing and no one stood in the way of her recovering the assets from the “secure” facility. While stalking through the corridors she spots a civilian looking girl moving through it too, seemingly following her and disappearing at random... then she saw the mirrored door, and the trashy biker-punk looking girl stood there matching her...

 - WARGAMES SIMULATION IN PROGRESS - MYRMIDON TWO-ONE DOUBLE THREE REPORTING - MID-ENGAGEMENT UPDATE: RED TEAM LEADING IN OBJECTIVE POINTS SIX HUNDRED THIRTY TO ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY - NEW CONTACT - OUTFITTING SUGGESTS CIVILIAN NON - COMBATANT-CLASSIFYING AS NON-HOSTILE - - - - ERROR - - - - CIVILIAN IS REFLECTION - - - - ERROR - - - -

“Surely you can think faster than that!” The old master with terrifyingly wide eyes doesn’t let up, launching flurries of blows with his staff, and I am only able to block two out of three of them. “Your purpose is too great for you to fight against yourself while also fighting your enemies.”

“Then what would you suggest, you’re the teacher, teach.”

“You must release yourself to battle, let yourself immerse into the flow of combat, only then can your warrior spirits join with your true self.”

“What the smeg are ‘my warrior spirits,’ is this some sort of metaphysical douchery?”

“Look around you, they are waiting for you to accept them.”

I turn around, to the four waiting people... characters... the characters I was playing as last night just before all this started. But each of them is slightly transparent, and inside them is another... me... or is other me’s wearing the characters... “Just what is all this?”

The old master has stepped up beside me, only he has taken the form of a mid-30’s woman in a flowing gown, and her voice has changed to match, “They represent skills and abilities that you will need over the course of these events.”

First to speak is the Spy/Assassin in the skintight catsuit, “We are here as extrapolations of your gaming abilities into the real skills they represent.”

“ - THREAT ANALYSIS OF THE FUTURE REQUIRES AN ENHANCEMENT OF YOUR MARTIAL CAPABILITIES - ” And of course the post-human cyborg super soldier has no indoor voice.

“I guess that makes sense, if some back-asswards prophetic dren is throwing me up at a global level threat, I could do with a bit more combat experience than 3 sessions at Air Cadets.”

“Not just combat, a whole platter of other skills, awareness and emotional support... you are not the most stable individual.”

“Riiight, because adding D.I.D. on top of all the other fracked up smeg in my head seems like a massive improvement.”

“We are already part of you, all that is happening is the little bits of headspace where you store your skills and ingame attitude have had the actual skills that your skills represent added. You have talked with us for years, you heard us, felt us as you played, this is not that differe...”

“~Master! ~ Apprentice! ~ Heartborne, 7th Seeker ~ Warrior! ~ Disciple!~”

... Is that my alarm?...

“~ In me the Wishmaster! ~ Riddly Diddly Diddly Dum~”

I’m in a bed... was all that just a dream? Eyes open and... where the fuck am I? Turn off that bloody alarm first, now where’s my vest... and the rest of my clothes?

“How do you shut this noise off? Corporal Proudgrip mentioned it, but I thought he was joking.” There’s another of those Halflings sat next to the bed, and she’s holding my phone...

Well obviously the rational thing to do would be to calmly take it from her and cancel the alarm (which means I’ve only been out for about 2 hours), but I am clearly not the most rational of people, both in general and in this overarching situation in particular (mainly due to culture shock and not knowing what the smeg is going on). So I grabbed and wrapped the sheets around me and tried to stand up and run away...

...

~CRACK!~

“OWW! Really?!? A three foot high roof?!”

 

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where Alice discovers a linguistic barrier that she wishes she didn’t cross

“Look, give me the phone then kindly fuck off and let me get dressed. Who the smeg are you anyway?” Being curled up in a ball freaking the frell out on the floor wrapped up in sheets is the most familiar thing I’ve gone through in the last 12 hours. She comes and kneels down next to me, gives me my phone (that has no signal) back, and I turn off the Germans that could only afford a drumset. But she doesn’t leave, just sits there and...

...Oh, that look is familiar too...

“Camelia Glorydew, ship’s surgeon.”...yeee-up, once again, I meet a new doctor and immediately have them think I’m nucking futs.  “And I only want to help, everyone has noticed you aren’t exactly coping with what’s happened.”

“No shit Sherlock, also news just in; water is wet. Just wait till I get over the culture shock and get my bearings, then I’ll start proper freaking out...  Also, silly question, why am I smegging naked?” ... Naked?! Gloves! Phew, still on...

“No I haven’t touched your gloves, and I am starting to understand Corporal Deepcutter’s insistence that I not. And you are naked because I’ve seen too many people get worse because of tight clothes blocking blood flow to leave anyone in them. Now, can you tell me what is wrong?” ... She reminds me a bit of Gram Washington... except short...

 “...I didn’t hurt anyone did I?”

“No, you just fainted after apparently speaking in four other voices.”

“Yeah, turns out the magic they brought me here didn’t quite understand the meatspace/cyberspace dichotomy... and you probably don’t either and mentioning it probably makes me seem madder and that’ll not be good for you releasing me from whatever you call medical seclusion on this dirtball and and and... can I have my clothes back please?”

“Of course, they’re in the table, I’ll give you some privacy. Just open the door when you’re dressed, the corporals have the rest of your things outside. I think you’ve made a good impression on them two, they don’t willingly interact with anyone on the ship other than me and Lieutenant Sararic.”

After rolling over to the table, that has a high lip so my things really are ‘in the table’, I can see that all my stuff is in there so; “What ‘rest of my things’, everything is here?”

She’s about to leave the room and turns back to me with a smirk on her face. “I don’t know, I’m just the surgeon, they don’t tell me anything.”

Hang on a moment...“Wait! Just how private is this room? Am I going to have others barging in?”

“This is the Female Guest Stateroom, only person you’ll be sharing it with is Colonel Aerilaya, and she is probably still in briefing with Commander Tiderider, so very private unless you leave the door open. Anything else?” After a quick shake of my head she leaves and shuts the door... finally some privacy... time to actually see what that magic whoopla did to my hoo-haa...

...

... Okay, I am never  calling it that again...

...I’m whole, like really whole (like really got a hole... bad Allie, stop being pervy), everything is right, all my scars are gone...all my scars are gon...

...

...what about those scars?...

...

... Gone... like completely gone... like smooth and unmarked like it never happened...

... YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES...

... Fuck this ship I wanna stand up and dance around...

...

...nope, still feels badwrong having bare arms... bear arms might be fun though... I should probably get dressed, and empty my pockets, see what smeg I actually got with me.

I have camos of holding... I guess it makes sense, I’ve shrunk, they’ve shrunk, all the pockets were full, it was either magic them or burst them... but it’s still smegging mental, they’re all at least twice the size inside. And my belt is long enough to double wrap it round me, so yay, no need to spend hours rebraiding thirty five meters of paracord. My training bra is now a proper bra, and it fits perfectly, so more yay, don’t have to arse about with medieval lingerie. Knickers fit properly too, and cause I don’t need to double up no more, I’ve got a spare pair, more no having to deal with fucked up regressive evil undies.

Feels nice having my feet free after... shit, 21 hours,  no wonder they ache. Well, bare feet are the least of their problems if they’re prudes, not like this top covers much more than my bra, and it’s warm enough to get by without my vest (also ‘ of holding’). Right, time to let them in, and see what this ‘rest of my stuff’ is.

 

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where we could really use a montage (because unpacking bags is soooo exciting)

After turning the music down a bit (because who doesn’t jam when they get dressed, especially when they’re proper buzzing like) and crawling to the door (that’s going to get old proper quick), I find both corporals (with their tunics/jackets/jerkins/whatever they call thoses off), most of the bags we humped through those tunnels... and Markys, out of his robe... and looking scary waifish.

“No robe?”

“Horrible to crawl in, too warm, and I’m not in their hands anymore, so I’m getting free from some of their stupid rules.”

“Good on ya’. What’s with all the bags? I don’t think blocking the corridor with them is a great idea.”

“It’s the things that came through with you, we all assumed they were yours.”

“...Oh... bring them in then.” ... did five of us really cart all that down those narrow tunnels?

It takes a while for them to get them all into the stateroom, 27 fairly large sacks... well, got nothing better to do.

“You two mentalists got any duties to get too, or you feel up to playing ‘What's in the magic bag’ with us?”

After looking at each other for a moment, doing the whole ‘friend telepathy’ shtick, Isenfast and Adeleloc drag a first bag over to the table. “Let’s get started then.”

We tip it out and it is full of boxes of ammo, grenades and dynamite, after a moment of panic, we bag it back up, start a new pile, and get the next one... and it happens again...

“Okay boys... new plan... look before you throw things out into the table...” The marines look suitably concerned... Markys looks more confused than concerned... “You do realise that there’s enough shite that goes boom in each of those two bags to blow us into the middle of next week, right?” Ah, now he gets it...

As we work through the next one, that is filled with a mixture of sci-fi-esque combat rations and de-hydrated fizzy pop, a question of practicality occurs to me. “So do you two have more practical versions of your names I can use? Isenfast and Adeleloc are a bit of a faff to say.” Before I’ve even finished the question, Adeleloc has turned his blackboard towards me;

- Fast and Lock -

And ‘Fast’ immediately follows it up with, “bit obvious really.”

The unpacking continues, most of the bags containing large amounts of fairly standardised supplies, so conversation drifts away from listing and cataloguing off in other directions...

“He is cute, for a bigling I mean.” Fast has a right shit eating grin on his face, “I mean, I might have made a pass if I didn’t grow up friends with his mother... and I thought I had any hope of beating how he looks at you.”

“How he what?!?”

“Well when you started pulling the launch for example, his look wasn’t the usual lechery you see from guys watching girls, it was a ‘how could I get her to notice me’ look?”

“When the spell glow faded off of you he blushed bright red at how you look, and he was more erudite before you... bewitched him.” ... I had hoped Markys would have been too sheltered to join in their banter when it started...

“I’m not that... I mean, I’ve not been this me for very long, it’s not like I’m some seductress aiming to bag me a bit of Royal Totty.”

“Never said you were ma’am, and it would be Imperial ‘Totty’ in any case. Just that it’s obvious that you’ve both got eyes for the other, you were watching him just the same when he was pulling.”

... This is getting too much, need to get away from it...

“Markys, how hard would it be too learn that waterproofing cantrip you were using in the tunnel? A lot of my stuff doesn’t really like water and well, I’m on a boat...”

“Playing ‘I’m On A Boat’,” Lock is looking guilty as he pulls back from where he leaned on my tablet’s search bar, and my tablet switches from reasonable a reasonable Instrumental Metal playlist to:

“~ Shortayyyy ~ Aww shit ~ Get your towels ready it's about to go down~”

...at some point I’ll have a musical interruption that doesn’t make me look fucking loony toons... right?

We continue sorting, finding; an assortment of spy and sci-fi tech devices; bits of futuretech and fantasy armour pieces; a gunbelt with a cowboy-style revolver holster on the left, a fancy 3/4 thigh length ‘magnetic’ ‘holster’ plate and bullet loops in the belt itself; a set of bandoliers; Temporary Tattoos that look identical to the Queen of Bats magic tats (and at her insistence inside my head, I apply them to match hers); a dozen radios with throat mics; and lots and lots more supplies.

And, as we sort, Markys starts teaching me magic... with Her Evil Drow Majesty butting in, hijacking my throat and explaining both how magic works here and how to integrate it with her magics... The combination works for me, and by the time we find My bag, I have already learned both the personal and projected forms of the Waterproofing charm and how to hold it and have gotten fairly far into learning a pair of (fairly wimpy to be fair) fire cantrips that I’m probably going to keep calling the ‘Flick-Click-Flare’ and the ‘Thumb-Lighter’ in my head.

The second of the first two things I pull out of my bag from home (a slightly over large, even for old me, hiking backpack) triggers an noteworthy response, then again, I doubt that super shiny, vinyl hooded jackets are a common sight, even at the Imperial Court (the first is a really warm Chinese bootleg Coke branded hoodie; Bite the wax tadpole, amusing to me, completely over their heads). Now before, when I got it as a bit of a joke, it made big me look like I’d mugged a prostitute (yeah, it’s that kinda jacket), in my new hotness in my phone’s camera (once I’d taught them all how to use it) it makes me look a bit like I’m the hooker... so I threw it to Markys who seems about the same size as me.

...And it kinda suits him, I mean, it is super feminine, but it’s a look that works for him... “ You can have it if you want, it’s never suited me the way it does you.”

And he is blushing, “T-thank you... I um, haven’t had anything that was mine since they took me to the Tower.” Lock turns to comfort him and just as I am about to ask what he means...

... There is a knock at the door. “Enter... Oh, Ric, what can we help you with?” No reaction from the Lt. over the nickname, good guess I guess.

“The Commander wants to see you in the wardroom, and what are you two still doing here? You are still on punishment detail, you’re meant to be cleaning the glowrock off of the launch.”

“Well you ordered us to see that Alice got her things, and she asked us to help her check she has everything... it seemed a logical extension...”

“...What am I going to do with you two?”

“Nothing, as I am the Empress’s best and closest childhood friend and still in favour in court... as long as I stay away from court...”

...Wow, feels awkward hearing that sorta groan about someone else for a change.

“Just get to the cleaning the launch, you can come back here to... play later. So Miss Olo, shall we go? You should probably put a top on first mind, the boys can get away with the bare chest look, girls as... well armed as you... can’t.”

 

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where... I can’t think of a subtitle

“Am I going to have to crawl the whole way there?” Crawling everywhere is gonna ruin my knees.

“No, just to and from the steps, those ones.” Sararic points at the fairly steep stairs just off to the side of our door

“Was Fast begin serious, about him and the Empress? Also, Regnant or Consort?” Ahh, room to stand up, that’s much better.

“Consort, and he likes to think so, personally I’ve always thought she likes Lock best of us. We grew up together; her, Fast and me are military children, Lock was a runaway Fast’s parents took in when we were all around seven. Pretty much the only reason we got posted to the Imperial Flagship, it’s just about the only thing prestigious enough to get us away from Court without looking like a dismissal.” ...That sounds... plotty

“So that simpering stuff when you picked us up was?”

“Not acting too familiar in front of unknowns, like you and the mage, or especially the Guardsman. That’s part of why Ceonred and Longjie thought it best to get us away from Court, there is a lot of unrest from the Guard Families over an independent Emperor marrying someone from a High Military Familiy, especially when their heir has adventurous wanderlust.” Well shit, and knowing my luck, that’s going to blow up in my direction at the worst possible time... And he is looking down from up the stairs with the same joke-smirk Fast and Lock have, “also, Iason likes us playing it up, has done since he was little and spitting fire at everything, it pleases the draconic bits of his ego.”

“Wait! He’s part Dragon?... From which side?” Ric has stepped away from the stair to an ornate door on the same side as ‘our’ Stateroom.

“Longjie’s, Iason is the first time the Imperial Bloodline has had a worthwhile measure of Dragonblood... things will be... interesting with a functionally immortal Emperor with a fondness for burning things.” He reaches for the door handle, but is interrupted by the door being slammed open and Häming crawling out in as close to a huffy slouch as is possible. We step (he steps, I crawl) into the Wardroom. “Presenting Alice Olo, as ordered sir.”

“Ah, Miss Olo, delighted to meet you, I’m Commander Edvard Tiderider, Captain of the Pauldronius.” He steps around from the table that’s covered in charts and the ilk and shakes my hand. “I must say, you are not quite what I expected.”

Need to squelch that twich when people say that, I get the feeling everyone is going to say it. And this ‘Commander Tiderider’ isn’t what I expected either. I was sorta expecting some grizzled Old Sea Captain stereotype, big thick white beard, worn old sweater under a battered old jacket, not someone so well together that (were he twice the height... and not on another world) he would fit right in one of those 100 hottest men lists, in a stupidly well tailored, blood red uniform tunic/jacket/doublet/whatever.  “Right back at’cha bossman.”

“Quite... this is my First Mate Solara Deckwalker,” he gestures towards the rather severe woman standing at the table more focused on what she is reading than anything else, who gives only the barest glance at me. “And you already know Prince Iason,” who is sat, looking proper swish in a dark green version of that uniform, sharpening his nail-claws that were hidden under his gloves before.

“So, what do you need me for? I still have effectively no idea what the smeg is going on round here.” Iason is patting the low seat next to him, so obviously I take it, and sort of stare at the moving lumps on the back of his jacket... wings?

“You are getting a commission, in the Imperial Marines, to serve as part of my new bodyguard unit with Aerilaya, Markys and my Uncles. It will let us stick together, as the prophecy requires, and gets me free of the Imperial Guard, whose loyalties are feeling a little suspect.”

“Yeah, Ric mentioned a little about that... is Häming going to be a problem, I’m guessing he is your ‘proper’ bodyguard, how are we planning to get him out of the way?”

Wow, not seen anyone’s face light up like that in ages... or look at me like that... what did I say?

“It’s already started; he has anger issues with disrespect, especially from the actual military. Hopefully dismissing him like we just did, and having the crew primed to annoy him further, will make him do something that we can use to justify leaving him in the Marine Lock-up in Dwarf-Town.”  Her feral grin makes this Cap/XO dynamic clear, he’s the Father to His Men, and she’s the Bitch Queen from Hell.

“Dwarf-town?”

Iason pipes up, “Don’t ask us to pronounce its ‘real’ name, everyone that could say it died over three thousand years ago, it’s a ‘coastal’ city at the mid-point of the Vinder, where it splits and heads out to either side of the Grand Ridge. It’s been Imperial Territory since the very beginning of the Empire, the Navy has a fairly major fortress and dockyards on one side of the lake, the waterfront of the Old City on the other side is mainly merchant docks and warehousing, nobody lives in the old city itself.”

“So, we go there, drop off Angrypants-McHamburger, then what?”

“Resupply, and have Markys and you outfitted with proper Marine uniforms and equipment. After that, it very much depends on what information they have for us. We have all been out of touch for some time, and that attack earlier coming from the east suggests something very wrong has happened.” He looks unsettled, which definitely doesn’t feel right on his recruitment poster visage.

“Okay, see I have no idea about any of this world’s geography or geo-politics. So while that might have meant something to a native, it means nothing to me.”

... I hate info-dumps, they always make me feel like a stupid cow. Probably going to forget a huge swathe of all that anyway. At least the food they had brought in was good... even if I had no idea what it was. I just want to go to bed...

...

...

...Okay... well that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve opened a bedroom door too... Kinda fun watching that panic from the outside though. And it looks like there’s a wardrobe of spare clothes (definitely gonna raid that later).

“Hey, Markys, its okay, calm down, it actually suits you... even if that shift sends all sorts of wrong messages with the hooker jacket over the top.”

 

What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

 

Where a closet gets raided.

 

“I’m sorry, ididntmeantoobesoweird, please don’t hate me..”

“Bit hypocritical if me if I did like, at least you actually pass as a girl, I used to be a right ugly twat. You did notice me wigging out over my new body when I got here, right?”

“Yes..?” Thats better, they(?)’re starting to calm down... and there goes a nice chillaxing evening.

“Yeah well, I used to look like crap when I tried dressing like a girl before, people humoured me, but it was always sorta patronising.” Ahhah idea, should be a pic on the tablet... let’s see, perfect, just before that dance... eww, forgot how bad I looked. “See, that is what I used to look like all of two days ago, next to someone about your size.”

... I can understand why they’re taking their time, I really looked terrible, depression fat, excessive body and facial hair, much better looking and sized friend right next to me, and a truly terrible dress, admittedly that was more an ‘only thing that fitted me that wasn’t stupid money’ rather than a deliberate choice, but it all adds up. “You looked like a troll.”

“Wow, thanks. But you get what I mean, you don’t look that bad, you look far better than I ever could have before.” ...maybe that pic wasn’t the best idea, what with how they’re rubbernecking between me and the tablet. “Hey could you look away for a bit, I need to get changed.”

I get a vague noise as they roll over away, and turn back to the wardrobe (like I’m going to chill/sleep in outdoors clobber if I don’t have to) The selection is mostly shifts, slips, petticoats and assorted other significantly sized and/or structural and otherwise old-school lingerie, I guess the outers are in the next one along (assuming that it actually is another wardrobe and not something else)

My attempt to pick something to wear is interfered with by the Queen of Bats offering advice, ‘so, this one is going to be your secret minion then.’

‘What, how'd you get to that?’ keep it cool crazy girl and just pick something to wear.

‘Oh come on, you’ve found out a major secret, and she isn't (so far as we know) part of these infantile courtly power plays. Securing the loyalty of the apparently way out of her depth mage is just sensible.’

‘It does make reasonable sense, even if it has come out of evil miss knife ears.’ ... that ‘evil’ bit sounds a little hypocritical from an murderous spy/assassin.

‘You’re all ganging up on me then.’ Ah, that one looks like it should fit; solid cream fabric, extra long sleeves with fitted wrists, and a shaped chest, perfect.

‘Not all, the cyborg and I aren’t that interested in this social drama. We’re happy taking a backseat until the fighting starts, no skin off our backs.’  No, cause it’s my back, bloody arrogant yankee.

‘I don’t care, I’m not doing this for some socio-political advantage bollocks, it’s just the right thing to do, now would you all shut up and let me get to it.’ ... at least the nightgown fits, pretty well as it turns out.

“Right then Markys, so what are we going to do with you?... I’m decent, you can look again.”

“You’re really not bothered by me being...” there’s a vague gesture at themselves.

“Seriously, just lie down and chill out, if you wanna talk about it we can, if you just want a night chillaxing away from all the lads and ilk we can do that. Now budge up a bit, there’s more than enough space for two on that bed.”

“No judgements?”

“Nope.”

“Just get to lie here like this?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, can we do that then?”

“Totally.”

There must be something really screwed up at wherever it is they keep their mages if the prospect of time alone is such a big deal. Well, it’s something to try and work out of them later, got 5 days sailing (and how is that working underground?) before we make land again... assuming that all this is real and not an hallucination.

“Thank you.”

“Really not a problem.”