The Butcher' Rebellion: Eden

The Butcher's Rebellion: Eden

The world thrummed around us as if we had found ourselves swallowed up by the heart of some terrible giant. A slow, steady staccato of violence shook the earth we stood on even deep as we were beneath the surface, hidden in our Terra lined sanctuary. The warships had arrived without warning, gargantuan shapes blotting out the sun and raining their hellfire down upon my home. I had been on the terrace of my rooms upon their arrival. Situated on the tallest floor of the royal tower, allowing me to witness the Butcher's destroyers in all their terrible glory. His silver ships bore the livery of legions well known to me. Those taught to us as children and belonging to battalions whom were celebrated as heroes; the embodiment of those most loyal to the oath. Fear and confusion had gripped my heart and to my shame, kept me rooted in place until a squadron of Royal Guards had come to collect and spirit me away to the underground bunker we currently stand in.

Even now I tried to piece together a reason for this treachery. For some explanation that would justify such violence directed towards my sister and her followers. We who had stayed true to the Order and it's mission to watch over humanity. Born and bred to act as eternal protectors.

My dark thoughts were interrupted by Sergeant Lawless' firm hand gripping my shoulder. The weathered lycan had once been Sister Faith's bodyguard; a mortal protector who according to tradition, worked alongside her Chevaliers to keep her from harm. The gunslinger had been a gift two years earlier after an unfortunate misadventure had cost the life of my dear Captain Marcus. Chester Lawless had taken the change in stride and taken up an almost familial role in my life as if he were some grouchy, whiskey smelling uncle. His title granted him special privileges over the general line and file regardless of his rank. Privileges which Chester took great joy in exploiting at every opportunity, much his officers' frustrations.

He gingerly led me to a nearby seat behind one of the many scripted barricades his fellow Marines were hunkered down behind. The warriors sent to obtain heavy weaponry from the tower's armory had not yet returned so what was kept down below in the high vaulted siege bunker was rationed out evenly amongst each gun tower. Brother Empathy's melee oriented Home Guard took up positions by the robust blast doors we had come through while my Chevalier Elora and her Marines remained on the back half to lay fire upon whomever was unfortunate enough to cross the threshold. A small contingent of Royal Guards encircled me towards the back of the large room armed with long silver spears forged from Terra, a rare metal who's forging process was amongst my people's greatest secrets. Each spear rang with a metallic hum of power sourced from the many symbols inlaid upon their shafts. Runes and sigils of integrity and bolstering were the standard but every warrior of Sheilda knew to spare no expense on their weaponry and armor. Each suit of Terra plate was a blank canvas just waiting for their artists to apply the first brush stroke. In the end the image each painted was one suited to war.

The once distant sounds of battle neared closer and closer to our sanctuary as time passed. A Royal Guard knelt beside me at the center of a circle playing host to a number of fragrant salts and bottled flames of every color. The incantation she sung was deep in her throat and was more akin to the grunts of some crude instrument. Scripts of brown power floated off the ritual circle she had carefully prepared and wrapped themselves in the air surrounding her, spinning in different directions to mimick a sphere. Lieutenant Perceival's kneeling form rose from the ritual and ended her battle preparations by drenching the tip of her spear with a leather water waterskin that reaked of rich soil and peppermint. She took up the forward position and was soon joined by her comrades, having each completed their own magics. A warrior to the Lieutenant's left was accompanied by two spectral apparitions above each shoulder weilding long glaives. Another to her right was a headache to look at. Whatever spell they cast had made reality shift into a kaleidoscope of color and shapes around them. Not to be outdone by the 'tabard wearing dandies' as he liked to call them, Chester splashed his lighter combat gear with ochre colored dust a brought out a bulky concussion cannon he had liberated from an enemy some years prior.