Location: Origin

Origin years since the Arrival: 3 

Arch Extent adjusts the backpack on him, fixing his eloquent hat. He stares at a great vortex of swirling cyan, whites, and greens before him. He’s gone through these portals many times in his life, each time to embark on an expedition to Division 5.

He’s the director of Field Research for Seraphic Inc. It's a part of his position to visit Division 5: to report back discoveries along with any type of biological advances regarding the natives of the planet. While Atlas may not be aware of everything going on behind the scenes due to the time difference, he trusts Arch Extent enough to know that he’s always busy just trying to find a cure.

The scientist grips the straps of the tanned backpack, taking in a breath before he begins to take the necessary steps forward to an alien world, filled with natives who couldn’t fathom advanced concepts and run wild with vicious monsters. At the same time, it kept him on his toes and excited as each day would always be something new. The fate of humanity rests on this man’s shoulders, a boulder that seems to be crushing him consistently as he feels the last lifeline of humanity slip away from the incoming calamity.

I just have to keep believing I’ll find an answer. Arch Extent takes in a sharp breath.

With these pressuring thoughts looming at the back of his mind, Arch Extent takes the final step forward and places his hand to the portal. It only takes seconds, but he’s finally through, blinking a few times as he brushes a few black locks back from his face. His gray eyes skim over the scenery: storage containers neatly stacked, glowing holoscreens, and very few staff members running about. There were only a few security guards at this lab outpost, and only one other scientist besides himself.

The team needed to stay small as the labs here in Daggermouth was considered obsolete to most employees that worked under Arch Extent. It’s still accessible, but there was only one other reason Arch Extent chose this location: less monitoring by Atlas down his neck, something he needed at all costs for a personal mission of his.

Location: Division 5, Daggermouth, Elator Labs

Division Years since the Arrival: 1448

Full Moons of Amorous (February)

“Arch Extent. We have a few questions as to why we are making this our outpost.” T-6 approaches the Arch of Atlas.

Right. Questions. Arch Extent thinks to himself.

He knew to expect this from T-6, an employee who always had a good nature. Arch Extent works well with this man, knowing T-6 could be trusted, even if he didn’t always agree with every rule within Seraphic. This other mission with Princess Aress was a good fit for the lower-level employee.

Arch Extent takes off his backpack and holster to place it on one of the counters in the lab. He sets his guns aside, though keeping it in at least some type of reach for a worst-case scenario.

“This area is just a fragment of what survived from the Great Migration. It was a part of the actual lab on the ship,” Arch Extent explains as he grabs a pair of black medical gloves. He’s ready to begin work, the dark bags under his eyes proving just how much of a workaholic this scientist truly was. “It was designed to contain any type of contamination even after crashing. Think of it as a failsafe. The only way the Cosmos Plague could possibly enter this lab is if someone broke down the four-tier layered door.” 

“That’s a big relief, boss.” T-6 twiddles his thumbs briefly, turning his head to a screen with information processing. His gaze pinpoints Arch Extent, who seems to be working on withdrawing blood samples from a recently deceased test subject. T-6 wants to impose the question, being one of the one other scientists that had discussed with Arch Extent about the dealings of Princess Aress, a test subject promised to them. “So…How is the princess being delivered here? And uh–when was she supposed to be delivered?” 

“He said she would be delivered discreetly by someone who is non-tribe. There’s a group called the Prayers.” Arch Extent pauses briefly, focusing back on the assignment he has for himself on the cadaver.

“You mean the ones who are calling you Demi-God?” T-6 inquires, knowing that his boss is definitely nothing of the sort. He’s aware that the only non-tribe group near this lab outpost would be the Prayers.

“Yes. I suspect he possibly made a terrible decision to trust his daughter to those natives. She’ll still be good to us, dead or alive. Though…I’d prefer if she’s alive when we do receive her. Or else, King Uthar will give us issues. That’s the last thing I need.” Arch Extent grabs a tool at the side, nearly finishing.

However, he can’t directly involve Seraphic as much as he wants in the lives of the natives, only observing and acting discreetly. It’s a part of the rules of the company; Even if he is an Arch of Atlas, he still needs to uphold those dire rules. Atlas is already aware he’s trying to create some kind of coexistence.

“Do you think she’ll get to us alive then?” T-6 cocks his head to the side, with eyes peering out of his cyan visor.

“I don’t know. She should be here soon, if I remembered the time difference correctly.”

Location: Division 5, Daggermouth, Outside of Elator Cave

Division Years since the Arrival: 1448

Full Moons of Amorous (February)

“Alright! It should be right up ahead!” Winter rides as fast as she can on Trot, her Featherduster companion kicking up sand and rubble with every pounce to the ground.

His gray fur wavers as much as Winter's scarf, elongated navy-blue feathers bouncing up and down with every prance of his four legs. However, it isn't too long until Winter and Neil approach a rather imbrued scenery, human skulls littering the entrance of the cave. The huntress swears she can also see a disfigured rib cage lying on the ground, one that looked fresher than the rest. Her eyebrows raise, and she looks towards her big brother for commentary on the matter.

“Well, that’s gross…” Neil huffs out. His eyes decide to gaze the other direction, not focusing on the gore in front of them.

“Yeah…I’m not a big fan of it either. Guess that’s how they decorate? We should probably make sure we don’t become a part of those decorations.” She feels sympathy for the poor bastards who had their heads tossed off and skulls left outside.

“Anyways, might as well go get our one hundred and fifty thousand gems. You’re the one who wanted this job,” Neil sternly reminds the female Winterlance. He hops off Heist, giving a brief pet to her smooth, pearly scales. Heist murmurs with a low growl into Neil’s hand, showing her appreciation and trust for the hunter. Neil makes sure to tie the reins of his mount tightly to a wooden pole so Heist doesn’t wander off.

“Like I said…Food for life?” She smirks, seeing Neil’s face have the exact reaction she was looking for: Annoyed. 

“Let’s go get ourselves a princess then,” Neil groans.

The duo approaches the cave while the winds of the desert pick up, beginning to cover them in speckles of sand. Once they enter, the feeling of pricks hitting them ends, darkness ensuing due to the lack of sunlight.

Like any Treetop, Neil was born with the ability of night vision. For him, darkness is no issue as he’s able to see the many rocks laid out before their feet, or anything else that might dwell in the dark. His hearing and smell are also heightened; These were all natural traits of the Treetop tribe.  

“Ugh! It smells like duster shit in here!” Winter’s expression is in utter disgust whilst aligning her arm with her ice–the very ability of the Winterlances from what Neil has conducted.

“Hey, Winter. Before we do anything, make sure to watch out for any–” 

It was too late.

His sister had already walked forward too far and activated a trap. The floor crumbles beneath her, and the gravity sends her body downwards, causing the smell to only become more pungent. The female grits her teeth, blonde locks coming undone from underneath her black hood, her body stretching out to accommodate for the amount of ice she’d have to cover herself in. Her eyes squint hard, feeling the coldness take over her, ice lining up along from her fingertips to the top of her arms, along with the slit of her pants on her left leg. Her entire back is covered now, hoping that it’ll stop the fall. She hits the ground with forceful velocity, feeling her muscles doing their best to withstand the impact.

Winter coughs, looking around her as she tries to make sense of where she is. She’s a bit dizzy, not registering sounds or sight at first. After a solid minute, Winter finally sits up, blinking a few times whilst letting out another curse. 

“Fucking traps…Fuck. It’s really dark down here…”

Winter gets on a knee, brushing the leftover ice shards off her body along with dust from the impact. The smell is so strong now that it’s making her nauseous, reeking as if hundreds of decaying bodies were in her presence. While decay was a scent, she’d become quite familiar with on Divon in her line of work as a notable huntress, this one was very different. It was more akin to that smell individuals emitted when they were ill.

“I can’t see for shit down here. Even the damn hole above me is sealed. Well, isn’t that just great? I’d really kill to have Neil’s night vision." Winter grows even more frustrated as she tries to navigate in the pitch-black cavern.

"Why is the smell even worse down here?” The blonde finally composes herself, standing upright and grabbing her hood once more to place it over her face. Naturally, she’d keep it on. If she has anything falling on her from above, she’d prefer it if the hood was on. She tries to see, only finding pure darkness still. “Guess I’ll just feel my way around here then.” 

Winter begins her journey through the darkness, placing her fingerless gloved hand across the rocky wall. Her fingers shuffle along it, feeling every dent, every groove, and any dampened area. That is, until she finally laces her fingers across something that feels oddly flesh-like. Was it a carcass? Muscle? She goes wide-eyed, unsure of what exactly she brushed her hand over. Upon further feeling, she can tell that there were bones, a ribcage of sorts that felt like it was shredded. They faced outwards, as if something had bursted out of them. Even the mushy sounds of gore could be heard underneath her worn boots. Taking her hand off, despite lack of vision, Winter clicks her fingertips together to try and rub the substance for better inspection. With the foul scent infiltrating her olfactory, any type of sense of smell needed for inspection was rendered useless.

“What the fuck?! I’m dead positive I just touched a corpse. I think I’m just gonna stay off the walls for now…” Winter’s head shoots up in the direction of what sounds like a little girl coughing. It meant someone was alive, and not too far away.

I have no clue who I’m jogging towards, but it sounds like a little girl. She might know how to get me out of here.

Winter couldn’t make out the words being said between the faint coughing, but if they knew what was going on, it would better her chances of finding a way out of this hole. “Hello? Hey! Whoever you are, I’m comin’ for you!” 

She dashes fast, her black boots pounding into bloodied soil beneath her, a panicked expression rushing across her face in the darkness. As she runs, the coughing becomes louder, more apparent. If it’s Prayers, she needs to be cautious, in case this was another deadly trap that awaited the Winterlance. Her fingertips align with a solid ice claw, salient edges ripe for tearing through any type of flesh or bone if danger dares to cross her. 

Just as soon as Winter’s hasty thought finishes, a blue light appears in the distance. It was ominous, mysterious, and intriguing. The huntress approaches closer, her arms falling to her sides as she blinks a few times before she registers it’s a young girl. She’s decorated in an elaborate Cloaks Tribesfolk dress, sitting on the ground in front of a metal door with lettering on it that Winter couldn’t recognize. Winter allows the ice attached to her arm to fall off before further approaching. 

“Hey! Are you okay?” Her words had gotten the young girl’s attention, seeing her head turn and look upon the huntress with pure white eyes. She’s a Cloaks, as that was a distinct trait of theirs.

“Please…Help me…” The young girl pleads.

Winter’s hand reaches over to place it on the girl’s shoulder, a form of comfort to offer the young female.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you, kid. Just–” Winter cuts herself off as soon as she gets a closer inspection to the girl’s face. The huntress is horrified. Was this an illness? The girl was bleeding profusely from her mouth, watching as more ichor spilled with each cough hesitantly emitted. There were dark patches splattered across her skin, almost as if they were some type of tumor infecting her body. Winter removes her hand, unaware of what this was or what was happening.

“What happened to you…?” The Winterlance leans over, still keeping her distance. 

“They offered me to something called 'Biohazard'. They threw me in here…” she coughs, wheezing in between her responses. “They told me someone named Demi-God could help me.” 

“Who?” The horrified look on Winter’s face only intensifies.

“The Prayers.” She lets out another wheeze, reaching up to wipe the blood from her left ear. 

“Hey…Are you Princess Aress?” Winter cocks her head slightly.

If this was really the princess, then this would be a problem for Winter. She accepted a contract, but if this princess was quite ill, there’s no way she could bring the girl back to King’s Court like this. Winter doubts Aress could even survive a trip through the desert of Daggermouth, let alone all the way through Matrum. Not without a Blazerock wanting to take her head. After all, the Blazerocks and Cloaks were enemies, and their conflict is far more than a trivial problem, as a war could break out at any moment between the tribes.

“Not anymore,” Aress sighs weakly in her response. Her body hunches over, obviously exhausted. The girl looks more defeated as she speaks. The huntress extends her knee out and rests an arm around her, something to at least comfort the girl. Aress lays against Winter, her chest heaving as she struggles to take normal breaths.  “...My father, King Uthar disowned me to the Prayers.” 

“What do you mean he disowned you?”

Why the hell would King Uthar get rid of his own daughter? A possible future tribe leader?

“My father…He traded me to the Demi-God for supplies for an upcoming war against the Blazerocks. I wasn’t good enough for him,” The teenager coughs, falling over from her body’s fatigue. Winter catches the young female, holding her close. Winter can tell she isn’t looking too good.

“I’ll get you out of here. We just have to go through the door, right?” Her fuchsia eyes swivel towards the direction of glowing cyan and letters she couldn’t understand. It had to be some kind of power, magic, something mystifying, or a hint that this was a Lair of the Gods. 

“Yes…But it’s sealed.”

Winter lays Aress down gently against the rocky wall, making sure she’s at least somewhat comfortable. If there’s a chance that this Demi-God could actually help Aress, it’s worth breaking into whatever that glowing door is. 

“Ever met a Winterlance before?” Winter states with a smirk on her face. 

“No…” 

“Well…in that case–” Winter cuts herself off, reaching her right arm outwards, watching as rock hard ice decorates along her fingertips once more. It quickly spreads, coming out of the woman’s pores and attaching itself firmly to each fiber of her skin. Her arm becomes aligned with ice, jarring outwards into other spikes of ice. The cyan lights reflect off of her encased arm, shimmering off her sheer ice claws with a deadly beauty.

“--Lemme show you what a Winterlance is capable of!”