Xibalba-WIP

Aurelia Clarke D.Elf 4, 5, 5, 5, 2, (6), Paragon
Yaotl el-Jamil Ocelomeh  2, 5, 2, 3, 2 (6),  Melancholic

Yaotl frowned at the stone the Dark Elf had placed on her desk. It had as dirty yellowish color. The paw sized stone’s shape was to irregular to easily describe. This was her first time seeing it with her own eyes, yet she knew it like the back of her paw. If she turned it over, there would be a claw sized chunk missing, with a precise pattern of cracks. Yaotl gave a brief mental prayer, nerving herself to as she turned it over. It was as she had thought, the stone looked exactly as she’d suspected. The cooling sea scented breeze rolling through her fur from the nearby window didn’t lift the Ocelomeh’s mood as she held the cursed rock.

The Dark Elf sitting before her, Aurelia Clarke, must be quite “blessed” indeed. The thought made Yaotl’s fur rise, her people had once ritually slayed individuals thought to be blessed. Her posting here at Zanichitl made that gruesome past impossible to forget. Yaotl had been dreading and hoping for this moment for so long, but the reality was anticlimactic. The Ocelomeh had been given a long time to come to grips with this eventuality. The Dark Elf clearly hadn’t been briefed. Typical. She hoped Prvt 1st Clarke had plenty of nerve. Killing a God would demand quite a lot of it.

Yaotl looked over her visitor. Aurelia Clarke was slightly taller than the usual Ocelomeh, easily taller than the short Yaotl.  Her platinum hair was shorter than mandated, slightly less than shoulder length. Clarke’s dark brownish skin covered a heavy muscular frame, that filled out her khaki Order uniform. Along with her rank, the long-sleeved shirt carried insignia indicating achievements in investigations, marksmanship, sword-work. Among these was a anchor-shaped pin showing allegiance to Poseidon’s Cult, a mirror to the one on Yaotl’s own uniform. The Ocelomeh’s eyes lingered on the Poseidon insignia, deciding to take it as a favorable sign.

Sitting the stone back on her desk deciding to leap right into it, the Ocelomeh spoke, “You are certain that you are the one who found this stone, Prvt Clarke?”. The gray eyes of the Dark Elf, which must have been inherited from her human ancestry, easily met Yaotl’s own. The Dark Elf’s confirmation was calm and unworried. Yaotl stood abruptly, kicking her chair backwards. The chair didn’t topple over, not that Yaotl cared. Clarke jolted stiffening in her chair, her ears perking upward. Yaotl felt herself grin. “Let’s take a walk Prvt. Bring the stone along.”. Setting movement to words, Yaotl, was already at the staircase leading downwards, only moments after the Dark Elf’s affirmative response.

Prvt 1st Aurelia Clarke hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t been close to 2nd Lt. Yaotl el-Jamil. The short officer, was heavily muscled. Even stationary, she gave an impression of activity. It had taken some real effort not to react to the aggressive 2nd Lt. Within a few minutes of meeting her, the Ocelomeh had shown rising hackles, claw and teeth baring, and the folding and perking of ears. Whatever the stone meant, the Ocelomeh felt strongly about it. Even as she followed the officer down the narrow dark staircase, the other’s tail was lashing restlessly.

Soon entering a gently illuminated small room, Clarke noticed what looked like a small museum of exhibits. There were various artifacts, and documents arranged with care, meant to be easily examinable. The room smelled of stone and aged paper, but not dust. Clarke dared to extend her senses, carefully. There was old dangerous magic here. The varied artifacts were tainted with Enemy magics, gnarled, bitter, but restrained. There was a weaker trace throughout the room, a sort of stalking presence that had been ingrained into the room by sheer persistence and time. After a moment, Clarke recognized the embedded streak of restless melancholy. It was 2nd Lt. Yaotl el-Jamil, who must have spent a very long time coming here to have left such a strong trace.

The short muscular Ocelomech drew a stone from a pocket. With a small surge of mana, she activated the device. A glowing hologram emerged from the device Yaotl held. Now that the projection was in full view, Clarke felt her hair stand on end. The Ocelomeh had paused the projection. It displayed a list of security clearances Clarke had never heard of, and the instructions to LEAVE NOW if she lacked those clearances. Realizing that this was to either be her briefing, or the 2nd Lt would determine that there was some error made wasn’t what set the Dark Elf’s stomach into knots. It was the sign in the corner of the projection.
Officially it was a Order sign indicating disturbing or gruesome content. Unofficially, it was known as the Vardanyan sign, or some variation thereof. It was so named for Corporal Razeen Vardanyan. During an engagement, he had been cut off from evacuating even after the Corruption in the province he was in had exceeded his Corruption Tolerance. The mamono in his unit had tried to keep him alive, but despite all of their efforts, Vardanyan had died in slow body destroying agony.  Clarke knew this because the Order made certain that every mamono applying for citizenship saw the recordings in vivid, gruesome detail.

It was a harsh lesson tailored to make absolutely certain that mamono conscripts knew what would happen to humans in the Corrupted mamono majority lands. The recordings had been edited and restored to crisp and sharp detail. Sharp enough to set bile and tears to flowing in sensitive watchers, it was almost like being there in person. Seeing Vardanyan’s mind and flesh degrade no matter the mamono efforts was a undeniable warning to would be mamono kidnappers. The mamono soldiers had tried everything possible, driven to desperation as his flesh peeled, soured, dissolved. Vardanyan had “survived” for a week and a half. That was twice as long as the Order’s medical department had thought possible. The medics in his platoon had been offered commendations and awards for their attempts to save the unlucky Corporal while they had been cut off from Order facilities. All had politely declined, two had later killed themselves. Their graves were all commonly visited. Clarke couldn’t disagree with the Order’s reasoning at all. How could a Dark Elf deny the necessity of painful lessons, especially when it saved from having to pay such a horrible price? Still the recording never failed to make her stomach churn.

Clarke met 2nd Lt. Yaotl’s sad golden eyes, the list of codewords in the projection was long. The Dark Elf was starting to understand why the Ocelomeh was so irritable and melancholic. Taking a deep bracing breath, Clarke nodded, preparing herself to see just how much of a load she’d have to bear for finding a weird magic rock while on patrol.