Big Sister (40k/???)

[Academia Nut]

Vulkan watched out of the corner of his eye as his men hauled away the equipment of the dead aliens that they could recover. While the wicked raiders targeted anyone that carried their gear and the damnable stuff refused to work for anyone but them, Vulkan had ordered all captured equipment to be hidden in caches so that it could be examined more thoroughly once the aliens had been driven from Nocturne.

Of course, the reason that he watched with only a corner of his eye was because he was focusing the rest of his attention on his sister, who was deep in meditation, the gem of hers floating between her hands, light pouring from its core, slight shifts of the patterns shed every few minutes as the cracks within healed. The reactions of the men under them were interesting, running the gamut from fear to awe, but Vulkan was most heartened by the fact that there was no hatred. The men loved or feared her, but they would not attack her for what she was. Even the new recruits had been trained well.

Finally with the sun half-way towards its zenith, Nanoha unfolded herself from her repose and approached Vulkan, tears of joy streaking her face as she held up the gem for his inspection. She said, “Brother, I want you to meet someone very dear to me.”

The gem flashed and words in a language Vulkan did not understand echoed out from it, to which Nanoha translated, “She says hello. Her name is Raising Heart.”

“Raising Heart…” Vulkan said, rolling the unfamiliar word around his mouth for a moment before he said, “It is good to meet you then Raising Heart.”

The object dutifully said something, and Nanoha added on, “She is glad to meet you too.” Nanoha sniffed powerfully, wiping her face on her sleeve. “For so many years… I thought…”

The device said something that seemed to console her, and she nodded at whatever was said, the steel coming back into her eyes. Holding out Raising Heart, she began to say something, some sort of long complex speech in whatever language the two of them shared. Vulkan recalled her talking about such knowledge before but she had never really taught him this language since they had no need of another tongue that only the two of them shared.

A massive circle covered in arcane runes sprang into existence beneath Nanoha’s feet, and light enveloped her for a second before disappearing, leaving his sister’s garb transformed. Gone was the rugged leather and plant fibre gear she had worn for the past two years, replaced by a long, flowing white dress with blue and red highlights, a black-under jacket and a gold choker. Raising Heart had also changed, now a fist sized ruby sphere at the heart of a gold crescent atop a white staff. Complex mechanisms in gold and pink metal formed the connection between the top of the staff and the main body. The whole thing looked a touch impractical, although Vulkan could identify a few touches of Nocturne in with the foreign styles. He also knew what she meant all those months ago about how she had not been made for this world. The dust and ash of Nocturne seemed undeserving of such immaculate beauty

About a quarter of the troops had run while another quarter dropped to their knees in supplication and the remaining half just stared gobsmacked at the fantastical transformation. Then she said something in the language of Raising Heart and a pair of wings of light sprang from each foot. Hovering at first, Nanoha then rose into the air high above them all, her long skirt somehow maintaining her dignity despite the angle working against it.

Then, just when Vulkan thought that she was going to come down, having successfully regained her capacity for flight, she stopped playing around. Vulkan had seen the alien skimmers and jet bikes going all out, but when Nanoha took off he knew that she could easily leave the strange machines in her wake. She became a streak of light across the sky, the common man unable to track her movements except in passing as she pulled off a variety of high speed acrobatic manoeuvres.

Vulkan’s mind was already turning over all of the tactical and strategic abilities that the full extent of Nanoha’s abilities could present, and he could see To’Van trying to turn over the political ramifications of having her as an ally of the Order. He was desperately trying figure out how to not to exploit his sister while still getting the most from her abilities when she drifted back down to close to ground level and said, “Brother! Now that I have stretched my muscles a bit it is your turn now!”

Vulkan stared up at her and remembered his promise to her all those months ago and nodded. He had not expected her to be able to fly so high or fast, but he had indeed asked that he be taken with her on one of her flights. A grin spread across his face, and he shouted so that all could hear, “Of course sister! But do you think that you have the strength to give a turn to anyone else brave enough to take you up on the offer?”

She grinned, seeing through him with all the skill of a sibling who had seen the entirety of Vulkan’s life and said, “Of course, if there are any brave enough.”

Vulkan then felt an invisible force wrap around his whole body and pull him into the air, tugging him along as Nanoha ascended into the sky once more, the ground falling away rapidly, transforming the landscape into something more akin to a map than what a man might tread across. He quickly surveyed the surrounding lands, burning the images into his memory. This was invaluable data for the next move they would make, since he had already identified two dozen features within a day’s march that his maps and scouts had not made clear to him.

As they ascended through a layer of low-lying clouds, a thought occurred to Vulkan and he asked, “You know much of combat… this is your battlefield, the sky, is it not?”

Nanoha nodded, a sad look crossing over her face, and she said, “I met many good people in the skies.”

“Allies?” Vulkan asked.

“Friends,” Nanoha corrected, although a wry smile replaced some of the sadness and she said, “Although many of them did not start that way.”

Vulkan considered the statement and what he knew of her and stated, “You subdue your enemies, not kill them.”

“Yes… but it takes more energy to do that, energy I do not have,” Nanoha stated remorsefully. Vulkan quirked an eyebrow at the incongruity of that statement while they were flying but said nothing. She then hardened some and said, “And considering their weapons, those pirates don’t deserve the effort.”

Dropping down lower, their little trip over for the moment, Nanoha asked the wind, “Will it always be like this?”

Even though he pretended not to notice, Vulkan could not help but compare the appearance of her clothes to what he knew beat in his heart. He knew that only blood awaited them, knew that only war dwelt in his own heart. However, he also knew that he was not as transparent as she thought he was, and that she could be surprisingly blind to things at times. Like how the line of men forming on the ground was not just there to prove their bravery to each other, to prove that a little height was nothing to those who stood up against the nightmarish enemy.

Like all things he applied his mind to, Vulkan was picking up the intricacies of politics quickly, and while he felt he did not have it in him to find any affection for another beyond the platonic, his sister deserved some tenderness in her life beyond the cruelties of Nocturne. If she should happen to find such happiness with a politically advantageous match, well then the most anyone could accuse Vulkan of would be in making sure that both parties were in the right place at the right time.

Of course, unbeknownst to Vulkan, while his own machinations were within Nanoha’s own blind spot, her own mind was working along parallel lines. Unlike him, she did not have a pool of readily available candidates yet, but the war had to end eventually and then they would be back amongst civilian populations and many would want to meet the conquering hero.

After all, no war could last forever.

Right?

[darthdavid]

After all, no war could last forever.

Right?

Uh oh...

[Hawkwings]

You are spoiling us with this fast update schedule, Academia Nut. Keep up the excellent work!

[Highlord Laan]

I'm, still wondering what caused Nanoha's fall. What happened to TSAB that caused one of their best to end up in such a situation? Where are the other Strikers?

I have an idea, that TSAB fought either Chaos or the Necrons and lost, or tried to stabilize the Age of Strife and were simply overwhelmed. I really hope you clear that up at some point, AN.

As an aside, I really want to see the byplay between the God Emperor and Nanoha when he shows up.

[Mechatrill]

I don't think it even got to StrikerS yet.

When it started, Nanoha's legs were completely non-functional. This pointed the time line to be directly after that disastrous mission where she almost died, and then had to go through a good half year of rehab to regain use of her legs.

I do believe that even took place sometime between the end of A's (but not the epilogue) and before the StrikerS manga (she's about 16 then). Thus, by a rough estimate, Nanoha should be about 16-18ish at this point in this story.

[Academia Nut]

Vulkan was not sure what he preferred more: battle or smithing. Battle was intense and exciting and made his heart sing in ways he could not properly describe, but it also came at a high price in blood, loss, and suffering. Smithing, or in fact any sort of construction, did not call to his being the same way battle did, but at the end of the day something new existed where war only brought destruction. Musing on the thought while he brought his hammer down repeatedly on the glowing metal on his anvil, he decided that he was made for war, but he lived for smithing.

It had been four months since the last reported sighting of the alien raiders. Perhaps they had left for the year like they always did, but then again they had stuck around for two extra months this time because of the presence of Vulkan’s army. More likely they had withdrawn for a time in the hopes that the lack of their presence would dull the fighting edge on the forces assembled against them. If that was their plan then they were truly idiots, for no dull blade lasted long on Nocturne; it was either sharpened or consumed. The extended presence of the raiders and their depredations had brought much bitterness and resentment, but their departure and the huge number of artefacts that attested to the number killed had bought huge political gains.

The army was swelling, forces being trained up so that they could train others, distributing knowledge across the surface of Nocturne. Some worried that these would form the seeds of forces that would eventually oppose Vulkan, but the simple fact of the matter was that the planet was large and they could not be everywhere at once, so when the raiders returned they would need many more warriors to protect everywhere against them, not just the local area. Plus, while the skills of war were useful, they would not bond people to Vulkan the way the other skills being taught would.

Pausing in his hammering, Vulkan eyed the apprentice working the bellows, and the lad immediately resumed the pumping he had been slacking off on. All around the sound of hammers on metal could be heard, a dozen smiths and a dozen-dozen assistants and apprentices working away at a variety of projects. If Vulkan’s skills at battle were legendary then he intended to make his skills with metal mythical. He knew everything his father N’bel had taught him and many techniques from others he had met on the campaign trail and after, but he had also figured out things that no one else knew. He could tell how any given sample would be shaped practically by taste, and when he worked over the forge he could feel numbers running through his mind, calculating and computing strange balances that told him not just what was going to happen but why.

Surveying the long, thin, slightly curved blade he had made, Vulkan quenched it in water before handing it off to another apprentice, a soot stained girl who would mount the scythe blade on a haft so that it could be put to use on the farms. The presence of females in these classes had upset a few more traditional masters and community leaders, but their protests had been silenced by Nanoha. The girl was not fond of anyone telling her or any other girl what their proper place was, and it was rather demonstrable that most females on Nocturne were physically tougher than her, so clearly it was only a matter of mental and spiritual toughness.

The brief flash of pink light that leaked through the holes in the walls of the teaching forge reminded Vulkan both that his sister could be extraordinarily persuasive in her own way and that he was not the only one teaching today. Deciding against shaping another block of metal into the tools of survival, he instead waved to the lad pumping the bellows and said, “Keep the forge warm, but don’t burn up all of our fuel. I’ll be back shortly.”

Leaving the forge room, Vulkan walked outside into the settlement that had sprouted up around where he and the core of his men had decided to establish their primary base. Founded outside any other settlement so as to remain neutral, sturdy buildings designed to withstand the shaking of Nocturne and assault by the raiders were slowly emerging from the small tent city that formed the original basis. People were flocking to the new settlement for the protection and knowledge it offered, and they brought knowledge of their own, either in the form of skilled workers or as ancient texts or technology that served as proof of better days on Nocturne.

Spying Nanoha hovering over a small group of robed youths, their heads shaved and their necks collared, Vulkan amended that not everyone who came to Salamander Bastion did so willingly. Nanoha had been… miffed… at how the Order treated its trainees, but at least Vulkan had managed to keep quiet what happened to those the Order deemed too weak to be worth training. Fear of what she would do if she heard what exactly happened in that scenario at least meant that the Order had decided that the traditional cremation methods should be altered slightly so that the witch was actually dead before burning the body.

Approaching the students staring up at Nanoha in awe while alternating their attention with the field of flattened ash that had previously been a field of tangled grass, Vulkan also knew that weirdly enough, a few of the students actually wanted to be here. Apparently Nanoha had the sort of effect on people that when they saw her flying overhead in her immaculate dress that a few people actually volunteered to Order testing on the off chance they could emulate her. Even the tiniest sliver of hope that a person could train under her and learn to fly one day was enough that any indignity could be suffered for it. Of course, Nanoha had quite vociferously protested mandatory eye removal and strongly discouraged it voluntarily amongst her students.

Seeing her brother approaching, Nanoha waved to him while dropping her hover down to eye level with him, which still put her feet above the heads of some of her younger students. A few of the trainers from the Order frowned at the interruption, but they knew that Nanoha could teach and they were all not stupid enough to annoy her over something so trivial. Grinning, Vulkan asked as he approached, “Teaching the students about the importance of agriculture?”

“A demonstration on responsible use of power, both as a service to the community and to show the consequences of misuse. There were a dozen target dummies out in that field,” Nanoha explained. Vulkan did not even twitch at the statement despite seeing no evidence to back up her claim. Her phrasing had been in the past tense for a reason.

“Miss Ga’ri, you said that there were ten targets,” one of the students, a young girl that seemed to hang on Nanoha’s every word and move, pointed out.

“Huh… and how many of you actually bothered to confirm that?” Nanoha asked with a sly look on her face.

A few looked puzzled, but the quicker ones caught on and let their eyes go wide. Like always, Nanoha liked to demonstrate things via multiple layers. It was not just enough to show how her power could be lead to intentional harm; she also had to show how it could lead to accidental harm. The Order trainers nodded grudgingly at the lesson.

“Actually, it is good you arrived when you did brother. Class, please run mental resistance drills with the senior instructors for a few minutes,” Nanoha said, and the students all cringed while the blind members of the Order all got looks on their faces that indicated that they would be responsible for the suffering to follow. There was a line they were not allowed to cross, but Nanoha gave them free rein right up to that line and had no pity for her students otherwise.

Drifting away from the group, Nanoha asked, “Before I say anything else, is there something you need of me brother?”

“Not as such, no, I merely came out to get in some face time with the mighty Ga’ri and to stretch my legs a bit. Plus you scare most people with your light shows, so me going out to see what you are up to reassures those around me, lets them know that I can keep you in control,” Vulkan stated, leaving out the fact that sometimes he just wanted to see his sister outside of official meetings. He left it out because he knew that she already knew that.

“Ah, that’s good I suppose. I was going to ask you later, but I have a bit of a favour to ask,” Nanoha stated.

“Say it and it will be done,” Vulkan replied instinctively.

Chewing on her lower lip for a second, Nanoha said, “There may be political ramifications…”

Rolling his crimson eyes, Vulkan asked rhetorically, “When aren’t there political ramifications? Just tell me and I’ll work it out.”

“It’s about one of my students, Puelammi. She’s a brilliant girl and one of the volunteers. I think she has a bit of hero worship going on for me. I see a bit of myself in her actually, since she’s an incredibly hard worker,” Nanoha began.

“I doubt anyone can match the dark depths of your work ethic,” Vulkan interrupted with good natured ribbing.

Shaking her head ruefully, Nanoha continued, “That’s not her problem. Well, actually it is. Just from what I have seen of the magic on this world, I don’t think anyone here has the power and control necessary to fly, but Puelammi has her heart set on it. The thing is that if that is what she wants then she is going about it the wrong way. Flight magic is more about control than raw power, but that is what she keeps developing. Worse yet, her talents are with fire, not telekinesis like she would need for flight. I think she thinks that if she gets powerful enough with that then the other will miraculously follow.”

Frowning, Vulkan asked, “How could I possibly help with this sort of thing.”

“So far despite her intelligence she has not been able to focus on improving her control because to her fire is fire,” Nanoha stated, causing Vulkan to scowl in annoyance.

“Fire is not just fire. There are so many different kinds needed for so many different… oh, I see. You want me to take her in and let her work the forge, learning to control the temperature with her mind. Yes… I can see how that could be troublesome for me,” Vulkan said, going from irritation to thoughtful consideration in the span of a few heartbeats.

“So you won’t take her?” Nanoha asked.

Waving it off, Vulkan said, “No, of course I’ll take her. She’ll undoubtedly wreck a few of my pieces by getting the fire too hot and scare away some of the other smiths in there, but you’re my sister and this is not a task so onerous. Come, I can take her now if she is ready.”

Turning in the air, Nanoha called out, “Puelammi, come over here now!”

The girl that had spoken up before, her age close to that of Nanoha, left from the small circle where an elder psychic was testing her mental defences. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she tried not to let her eyes completely bug out of their sockets at being in the close presence of both of the most legendary people alive on Nocturne. Vulkan grinned at the fact that despite having associated with her long, the girl was clearly more in awe of Nanoha than him.

“Puelammi, this is by brother Vulkan,” Nanoha said as introduction, and the girl nodded eagerly, despite the fact that it was rather obvious. Continuing, she said, “I have some special training for you. I want you to help my brother with his smithing. He needs the fires of his forge at the right temperature, so you need to exercise careful control over your abilities while working for him. We’ll still do the regular training, but this is special training just for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes Miss Ga’ri, I understand,” Puelammi replied with almost excessive zeal.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone else,” Vulkan said warmly while gesturing to return to the smithing complex.

[Simon_Jester]

As an aside, I really want to see the byplay between the God Emperor and Nanoha when he shows up.

I, for one, am wondering about the byplay between Nanoha and Magnus the Red; that'd be bound to happen sooner or later.

[LadyTevar]

Now that is an excellent idea to teach control. The pyro will be able to see exactly what she is doing wrong, and will work all the harder to fix her mistakes.

[Academia Nut]

The day began early, rumblings from distant Mount Deathfire shaking the ground and rousing the inhabitants of Salamander Bastion shortly before the first fingers of dawn’s light began to creep above the horizon. With the pre-dawn twilight staining the starry sky purple and blue, most of those woken by the tremors chose to simply get an early start. The buildings and tents would have to be checked for damage from the quake and repairs begun if necessary, so the extra time would be needed. Of course it was an ill omen to start the day and cut short sleep left more than a few people in a bad mood.

After a few hours, other than a few more weary eyes than usual, everyone was into the usual routine for the day. For the past month, Vulkan usually drilled troops in the morning while the various smiths and their apprentices got the forges hot and started on their projects for the day so that at mid-day he could come in and join their work, making corrections to technique where he saw them or improving his knowledge if someone else knew more. He generally did not join in with the hot forging until after dinner though, seeing as how one of his students made actual progress there rather difficult.

When Puelammi arrived after the mid-day meal half the smiths filed out of the teaching workshop, not wanting to be in her presence. Part of it was because they were uncomfortable around those with powers like her, but a big part was because even after a month she still lacked control. While she had only ever once caused a fire other than the one she was concentrating on to flare out of control and cause injury, temperatures still tended to fluctuate weirdly whenever she tried to practice her abilities and she had ruined dozens of projects.

Today when Puelammi showed up for her lessons, she was sporting a rather nasty bruise across her left cheek. Vulkan did not say anything, but the question was clearly asked non-verbally and the girl said, “I was sparring with Mistress Ga’ri and overextended. Her staff caught me across the face.”

“You’re working hard but you keep trying to rush to the end of the lesson without learning what you’re supposed to,” Vulkan said while cold working the steel of a ploughshare.

Puelammi blushed and nodded with her eyes downcast. “Yes, I know, I-”

“No, you don’t. You have it filed away in the back of your head because we keep telling you, but you haven’t absorbed it into your soul yet. My sister let you get smacked in the face to try and wake you up to that fact,” Vulkan chastised. He then ordered, “Now I have a mould prepared from last night that wasn’t damaged by the quake, I want you to melt those bars of bronze into the mould.”

“No problem! I’ll be done-” Puelammi began to say cheerfully before being cut off again.

“You will be done when your job is done right. I don’t want you superheating the metal, cracking the mould and splashing molten bronze anywhere… again,” Vulkan rebuked. Puelammi took on the appearance of a puppy that had been smacked for leaving a mess inside and Vulkan softened his tone a bit to say, “I want you to do it nice and slow so that no one, especially you, gets hurt because you lost control of your powers. Got me?”

Cheering up again, Puelammi nodded and said, “Yes, I will go good and slow.”

“Good. Now do it,” Vulkan said, waving in the direction of the mould he had set up, the set up looking suspiciously bulky for the amount of metal to be poured.

Scowling in disgust, one of Vulkan’s personal apprentices, a girl named Fara about two years older than Nanoha, muttered under her breath, “I don’t know why you put up with her incompetence.”

Tapping the ploughshare he was working on, Vulkan said, “She tries hard and has a lot of potential, and it’s not like what she is trying to do is easy.”

“That didn’t sound like an explanation,” Fara said darkly while running a whet stone over the edge of a scythe she was working on.

“Because my sister asked me to,” Vulkan snapped, irritated by his apprentice’s uncharacteristic chattiness. Usually she just got down to work, quietly going about her business with methodical efficiency. Although after a moment of considering it, hostility towards Puelammi was not out of character of the girl. Ever since Puelammi had joined the group Fara had been glaring daggers at her, although she did not leave like so many others under similar circumstances.

Fara grumbled and scowled and then muttered, “There are lots of people with lots of potential trying to do things that aren’t easy, but you don’t see them getting half the breaks she does.”

Seeing out of the corner of his eye that Puelammi could hear, Vulkan reproached, “Fara, please work in silence.”

Fara’s scowl deepened but she did not say anything. For another hour, the cacophonous serenity of the shop reigned, no unnecessary noise interrupting the unique rhythms and melodies of the forge. Vulkan kept an eye on everything that went on around him, and he was glad to see that Puelammi was finally taking her time in heating the metal, and had it at a nice cherry glow and the surface was starting to look rather runny. A month ago she would have had the metal bathed in copper green flames and would be shocked when someone had to knock her out of the way before the metal exploded.

After having finished the final sharpening of the batch of scythes she had been working on, Fara went to her own little project, a long knife she had been working on for the past three weeks. A lovely thing made of a variety of steels welded and twisted together, she had then case hardened and etched the surface to bring out a whole rainbow of colours in swirling water ripple patterns. She did not know it, but Vulkan had been watching her carefully and considered it her journeyman project. He still had much to teach her, still had much to teach everyone even if he was still learning himself, but he felt that she would be the first of his apprentices to graduate to the next level, in part because she already had several years experience from her grandfather.

Today however, when Fara pulled out project box she jerked her hand away as if burned and immediately rushed for the nearest source of water. Seeing Vulkan’s look of worry, she said, “The box was wet and I had acid in there.”

“The bottle must have cracked during the quake. You should have checked the box earlier,” Vulkan said, being sure to raise his voice in an instructional tone so that all could hear. A few people sheepishly ran off to their own project boxes, and Fara’s grime covered cheeks flared red in embarrassment.

“I did check,” Fara protested while washing her hands. “It must have been a hairline fracture I missed in the early dawn light and it slowly leaked out.”

Using a pair of tongs, Vulkan flipped open the lid of the box and found that the inside was indeed soaked with liquid, the acid having turned the bottom into a mass of wet wood pulp. The knife was wrapped in a leather bundle that had also soaked through, and just from looking at the amount of acid spilled and knowing what it did Vulkan knew that the knife would be a mess. He told Fara, “Bad luck, you were right.”

“Damn it!” Fara cursed. Shaking off her hands like flinging away the water would dispel the disaster; she glared so intently at Puelammi that one would think that she had the psychic power to light people on fire with her mind. She then whispered maliciously, “What is bad luck is having a witch in here.”

Vulkan was not sure if Puelammi was supposed to hear, but she definitely did, and unlike Fara, she did have the ability to light people on fire with her mind. Vulkan had no idea if it was intentional or if the focus she had been applying to the bronze slipped, but the end result was that all the metal on Fara was suddenly subjected to the same psychic barrage. The various buckles and clasps on her clothing glowed red hot and Fara’s eyes went wide with shock and pain.

Despite his superhuman reflexes, Vulkan could not stop what happened next due to the simple reason of relative distance. Fara was a daughter of Nocturne and one who followed Vulkan’s philosophies to the point where she had been accepted as his apprentice, and as such her response to being attacked was to grit her teeth and counter-attack. Puelammi was a hardy girl, but she was not a smith and she was younger, so when Fara hit her teeth went flying.

Every furnace and kiln in the forge erupted into great gouts and fireballs all at once as Puelammi’s psychic energy went wild and grounded explosively in the nearest fires it could find. Screaming filled the air as men sought cover and Fara let instinct give voice to her pain. Despite everything Fara still managed to grab hold of a mallet and raise it up murderously while a barely conscious Puelammi managed to look up from a floor, her eyes burning with inner light.

Then Vulkan was between them, his red eyes flaring with his fury at the two of them while his obsidian face was twisted into rage and disgust. An incoherent bellow erupted from his lips that eventually resolved into something that could be interpreted after the fact as “STOP!” He looked down at the two girls he had interposed himself between, and saw their hatred dissolve into terror at having this demi-god of war step between them, the cloth of civility shed in favour of displaying the capacity for raw violence that dwelt in his heart.

The mallet tumbled from Fara’s hands and she stepped back only to fall flat on her ass, staring up at Vulkan’s towering figure as his he stared wrathfully down at her. Puelammi cringed away from her position already on the floor, blood still streaming from her mouth and tears starting to leak from her eyes. Seeing that situation more or less, Vulkan let loose with the voice he used to cut over the din of battle to deliver orders. “All hands to fire suppression! All hands! Get the bucket chain up and running!”

His deep voice cut through the panic and smoke like a rifle round and men immediately got to work containing the out of control fires, throwing water and sand at the problems in large amounts thanks to excellent planning and stockpiling. Once it was clear that people were actually moving, Vulkan plunged into the fires himself, spearheading the effort to save the forge.

Within five minutes the worst was over, thanks to jumping on the problem with both feet before everything went out of control. Wiping some of the soot from his face, Vulkan scanned the area and found the instigators conspicuously absent. He considered for just a moment before he told the nearest person, “Go tell Lady Ga’ri and the Order to find Puelammi. I’m going to go find Fara.”

Damn it, but Fara was his apprentice, and thus his responsibility.

[LadyTevar]

So, why are the two girls jealous of each other, hmm?

[Academia Nut]

So, why are the two girls jealous of each other, hmm?

You know, thus far you are the only person to ask that question. Makes one wonder about the relative mindsets.

[Academia Nut]

Tracking Fara was not a particularly difficult thing to do, and with but a few questions Vulkan soon found her sitting on a cliff overlooking the great, tangled plains of razor grass to the west of the new settlement. She was drawn up into herself, legs hugged to her chest while she watched the sky darken over with clouds rolling in from the east. She barely turned her head, just enough for her tear stained, blood shot eyes to realize who had found her before she buried her face further into her arms.

Vulkan opened his mouth to say something, before realizing that he had come here without anything to say. There had been thoughts of reprimand, thoughts of ranting, but now that he was actually here, he had nothing to say. He realized that in a way, Fara had not even done anything wrong in hitting Puelammi, seeing as how she had just been attacked by the other girl. Of course, Fara had provoked the incident with her comment, whether or not it was an accident. She did not need the attention of the demi-god of war, or the rebuke of a master smith, but to talk to another human being.

The realization was profound, particularly since Vulkan was forced to admit he knew very little about being human. He was so different from everyone else and grew so fast that he really had very little idea how it was that others worked. His learning had occurred so quickly over his incredibly short lifetime that there had been little time to absorb the finer nuances of behaviour, especially due to limited contact with others due to his outsider status. He could only shudder inwardly at what he might have been like if he had not had Nanoha as his sister.

So instead of delivering a sermon from on high, Vulkan sat down next to Fara, his legs dangling over the cliff, and asked, “Why?”

The wind that blew between the two of them was the only sound for several seconds before Fara sniffed weakly, “Why what?”

“Why do you hate Puelammi so much?” Vulkan elaborated.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fara asked.

“No, it actually isn’t,” Vulkan answered truthfully.

Vulkan could practically hear the function of Fara’s mind come to a crashing halt as she tried to process this admission of fallibility from a demi-god, and the restart process caused an immediate second crash as she tried to process that her entire perception on the situation was likely wrong. It took her a few more seconds before she posed a counter-question. She asked, “Why… and I mean honestly, why did you bring Puelammi into the forge?”

Vulkan furrowed his brows and said, “I already told you that. My sister asked me to help one of her students. I will admit to also being interested in seeing if the girl’s powers could be better refined to aid in the forge work, but the hassle of having her around means that I’m really only doing it for my sister.”

Fara raised her head and looked into Vulkan’s eyes, before she broke down sobbing again. Vulkan had nothing to say to such a reaction and could only sit by while Fara cried, up until the moment he heard her muttering, “Stupid! Stupid! So weak! Weak! Stupid!”

While the words were directed inward, something about the sentiment offended Vulkan on a deep, personal level. Before he spoke though, he thought over why the comments enraged him so, and he then remembered what had ultimately started the whole incident: Fara’s knife. Vulkan had judged that work worthy of being what would elevate her out of her apprenticeship. Vulkan had judged her in his mind to be worthy, and her putting herself down was like saying to him that his valuing of her was wrong.

“Stop that!” Vulkan roared before grabbing her wrists and pulling her out of her shell so that she would look at him with tear stained eyes. He marvelled at how despite the definition of her muscles she was so frail in comparison to him, her skin like paper and her bones like sticks. He could see the pain in her face from his rough handling of her, and he eased up a bit while still maintaining a firm grip. He could feel her tremble with terror, but he could also feel the rapid-fire beat of her heart through the pulse in her wrists.

He glared down at her and knew that he had done wrong, but his toolkit for this sort of thing was so woefully inadequate. Worse yet, considering his own feelings, he knew that unlike everything else he had done, there was no drive to apply his heart and mind to learning and changing ignorance to mastery. He wanted to protect those around him, was driven to do it, but only in the bluntest and most direct way possible, a warrior willing to interpose his body between the slings and arrows of the world that would injure those around him. That method however left him with no way to save people from themselves, from the pains lurking in their own hearts.

So Vulkan fell back on the only gesture he knew that might be appropriate to this situation, one he had seen his father and sister use to comfort those who were hurting. He drew Fara into a deep hug, her head pressed into his broad chest and he said, “I… I’m sorry. I’m no good at these things. I… I… people are things to me. Precious things, to be cherished and protected for sure, but I… I can lead warriors, I can teach students, I can play politics with rivals and allies, but I can’t deal with people as people.”

Fara managed to get an arm free and frantically tap Vulkan on the arm, indicating that she needed air. Releasing her sheepishly, Vulkan let her fill air back into her lungs before he said, “Sorry… again, not very good at this sort of thing.”

Gasping for breath, Fara stated, “This… this isn’t you.”

“And what is? Would you have preferred I descended upon you with all the thunder and fury of Mount Deathfire? I can do that without difficulty… perhaps that is what I am,” Vulkan mused rhetorically.

“NO!” Fara blurted out. She looked shocked by her own forwardness, but then she whispered, “That’s not you…”

“Then what am I?” Vulkan asked, trying to make his response more sincere than furious. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment before he changed his question and asked, “Then what am I to you?”

Fara started to tremble, existentially terrified by the question. She tried to cast her eyes down, but Vulkan put a single finger beneath her chin and asked, “Then what am I to you?”

“You… you’re the first person to look at me like a person!” Fara stated before deflating like a person that expected their deepest, darkest secret to be used against them.

Vulkan blinked. He honestly had not expected that answer, especially given his earlier admission otherwise. All he could say was, “Okay… why?”

Fara seemed flabbergasted by the question, unable to process it for a second before she got her worldview smacked around again, although the earlier shocks had probably inured her somewhat. The revelation however did seem to crush her somewhat, and she squeaked out, “You were the first person to make me feel special.”

Vulkan’s eyebrows furrowed and he said, “That can’t be right.”

“It is! I… I…” Fara worked her jaw several times, like she was trying to chew on the lump in her throat impairing further speech. Finally she bit down, gritting through the pain in her heart and she said, “My birth is all wrong! I was born just before the previous Time of Trials. My parents died trying to take care of me and so my grandfather had to take me in and with father dead he had no heir to his skills so I was the only choice and he felt duty bound to teach me despite the fact that even he didn’t think girls should be smiths to say nothing-”

Vulkan interrupted her by stating, “Fara, breathe.”

Fara took in a deep breath, the tears leaking freely from her eyes even though she clearly was not noticing them. Chewing on her lower lip, she continued a touch more coherently, “I… I always had to work twice as hard for half the recognition. I always got told ‘not bad for a girl’ or ‘good job for a girl’ like if I was a boy my work would not be acceptable. I fought and clawed for every bit of respect I ever got, and then… and then you.”

Eyes wide with wonder, Fara stared up at Vulkan and said, “You… you and your army rolled through my village, the conquering heroes, the invincible god who everyone whispered about… and then when you look at my work you immediate ask ‘Do you want to come with me and learn more?’”

Vulkan considered his next words very carefully before he said, “Did you consider that your being female never even entered into my assessment of your work?”

“And that’s not supposed to make me feel special how? You saw me as a smith, as a person of worth, not an upstart or a spare that would have to do because my dad was dead. I had worked so long for everything, and then you come in and do what no one else had done and it was everything I could do not to become a bawling little girl in front of you…” Fara explained, self-consciously wiping at the tears on her face.

“I’m pretty sure expressing emotion at having your entire life validated in a single encounter isn’t a female thing to do, it’s a human thing to do,” Vulkan pointed out. He pointedly did not point out that he had never cried before.

Fresh tears, these more joyful than the last bunch, began to well up but Fara still fought a losing battle to hold them back. “Not if you asked my grandfather. I worked so bloody hard for so bloody long, and then… and then… you. You took me in, showed me so many incredible things, and treated me as… not as an equal, but a peer certainly. Others could whisper behind my back about how I didn’t belong, but around you all of that shit fell away. Around you no one could unfairly challenge me, they had to criticize on merit alone, and damn if I couldn’t beat the pants off of men twice my age. And then she came along.”

It all clicked. Vulkan got why Fara had such a problem with Puelammi.

“You didn’t hate her because she was a witch… you hated her because she was a girl,” Vulkan uttered with realization.

“A girl who got all the breaks, who got away with failure that would have had scorn and abuse heaped upon me a thousand times over even if I was a boy. She monopolized your time and… and… and what was I supposed to think? I was supposed to think that she was getting away with all of that because… because… because there wasn’t a personal reason for it?” Fara screamed, the bile that had been building up for a month bursting out of the dam that had held it back.

Vulkan was quiet for a long, long time before he said, “Fara, I know that you are a brilliant girl… no, a brilliant person, so I think you already know what I am going to say, you just don’t want to believe it. Fara, I have no feelings like that for Puelammi, but that is in part because I don’t have feelings like that for anyone. Not even you.”

He could see her heart break, but this time no new tears came, but that was not because she had exhausted the well. Instead, she threw her face into his chest while attempting to hug him and asked weakly, “Why not?”

“Because… because maybe everyone is right and I am the avatar of Nocturne given flesh. My heart is full of iron and fire and war, and that leaves no room for soft things like love. Concern yes… even the capacity for care for others, but there is no room for love,” Vulkan admitted.

“Make it bigger,” Fara muttered into his chest.

“I… I… don’t know how. I see boys looking at girls… men at women, women at men, even men at other men, and I see the light of attraction in their eyes, but there is nothing like that when I look at others. I care for my father and sister; I am concerned for the well being of others, but… but no attraction, no desire. It is who I am,” he explained.

Fara looked up at him, and he knew she was about to say something stupid, something that could get them both into trouble, something he should stop her from saying, but the moment was interrupted by a lance of pink light cutting up into the clouds gathering overhead.

[LadyTevar]

I knew it. she was jealous.

[Hawkwings]

Bravo sir. Excellent storytelling.

What are the approximate ages of all these characters?

[LadyTevar]

Late Teens for Nanoha, iirc. I'm assuming the same age for Fara

[Academia Nut]

Nanoha -> 14-15

Fara -> 17-18

Vulkan -> 2 1/2 (but he looks like a 2m tall 17 year old built like a brick shit house and he's only going to get bigger due to the whole Primarch thing)

There, the record has now been set.

[Academia Nut]

Returning to Salamander Bastion at a hurried pace after seeing the blast of magical energy, Vulkan’s stride turned into a dead run when he saw the smoke rising from the settlement, his long legs carrying him away from Fara in an instant. Flames leapt uncontrolled from the interior of the partially completed main fortifications, while numerous smaller fires twisted and danced amongst the rest of the community. Dozens of people ran around in a panic, while equally many tried to get the fires under control with bucket chains, but the main fire was not something that would go out easily.

Bellowing at the top of his lungs, Vulkan immediately began to restore order and get those not helping to either aid in the firefighting process or to just move out of the way. While barking orders over the cacophony of the disaster, he demanded, “Where is Ga’ri?”

As if on cue, Nanoha stepped out of the inferno that was the fort in construction, a sheet of flame parting to let her step out into full view. She seemed to droop once free of the fire, and Vulkan ran to her, but once he drew near it was not from heat exhaustion or injury that she sagged, even though the latter did afflict her. While otherwise immaculate as always, her magical dress was partially shredded along the right shoulder and collar, and a long line of blisters and reddened skin marred her neck and jaw-line, the pain in her eyes was not physical. Nanoha stared up at Vulkan, and the hurt on her face was of betrayal.

“What happened?” Vulkan demanded, but already knowing the answer.

“I went to go talk with Puelammi. She was upset… I just wanted to talk but she started ranting and raving. She wanted to know how the training would help to learn to fly, and I told her to be patient. She just got more and more agitated, saying that I could never teach her what she wanted to know. I tried to calm her down, explain what I had already explained, but she just got worse and worse… then… then… then a strange look crossed her face and…” Nanoha tried to explain, her guts clearly turning at the thought of what happened next.

“She is taken by an evil spirit. Puelammi is no more,” Wanshan stated while striding up to Vulkan and Nanoha, a trio of other Order psychics in tow.

“What do you mean ‘no more’?” Vulkan asked.

“When an evil spirit takes control of a witch, it consumes their soul so that the body can be worn like a jacket. I have encounter but one such abomination before, many years in the past, but not this strong… I do not believe anyone in the Order has ever encountered anything this strong before,” Wanshan explained.

Nanoha shook her head vehemently and said, “No, if she is possessed then there must be some way to get her back.”

“There is no way, the best thing we can do for her is to destroy her body so the spirit cannot use it for evil,” Wanshan insisted.

Waving his hands to forestall the oncoming argument and instead demanded, “Where is she now?”

Nanoha ran a finger across her chin where her skin was puckered and blistered and said, “She hit me with some sort of heat attack… I already had my barrier jacket up from training, otherwise… but after the first attack failed to kill me I hit back with a Divine Buster. That seemed to rattle her for a few moments – it should have knocked her out – and then she seemed to claw at the air and a portal opened. Just before she stepped through she exhaled a huge blast of flame.”

“That must have been at least two minutes ago, what were you doing in the flames so long?” Vulkan demanded out of concern.

A look of ultimate sadness settled over Nanoha’s face. She stated coldly, “There were people working in there. Were.”

“We have to find her and stop this,” Vulkan demanded.

Wanshan turned his head to the distant blot of smoke that was Mount Deathfire and said, “She has gone to the mountain… I could feel the wounds she left in the veil between this realm and the next when she stepped through her portal. Long has that place been… known… to those whose senses extend to the Other Side.”

“‘Known’?” Vulkan asked.

“Emotions, particularly strong ones, can accumulate; on things and in places. How many millennia do you think that deathly place, home to not just fire but to the fire drakes, has been a focus of fear and hatred? The veil is thin there… I dread to think what such a powerful abomination could do there,” Wanshan explained.

“We stop her then,” Vulkan stated.

“We must kill her,” Wanshan stressed.

“We must save her,” Nanoha countered.

Wanshan tilted his head and said, “Those are the same thing.”

Nanoha glared at the man for a moment before realizing that it was futile so she just stuck her tongue out at him instead for an instant before she said, “It will take weeks to get there on foot. We’ll have to fly.”

“Agreed,” Wanshan and Vulkan stated at once, although the Order psychic was considerably less enthusiastic about it. Vulkan then leaned in and whispered, “Are you okay with that burn?”

“Don’t worry about me brother, I’ll survive,” Nanoha said. She then summoned forth the wings upon her feet that she used to fly, and invisible force wrapped around Vulkan and the psychics, lifting them off the ground. Before he could even ask for it, someone had already brought Vulkan his rifle and a bandolier of ammunition.

“We go,” Nanoha said, pulling the quintet of companions along with her into the darkening sky.

She flew up just high enough to avoid the local terrain and then accelerated to speeds Vulkan had never seen her do before. Despite the terrain whipping by at a fantastic rate beneath them, Vulkan felt no wind. He did however see the strain on her face and cautioned, “If you wear yourself out now, you will have no strength for the coming battle.”

“I will have enough,” Nanoha replied with grim determination plastered over her face.

Vulkan knew that he would have to convince her to take a break after this was done, because he knew that she had been working herself as hard as possible for the past two and a half years, and she still had yet to tell him the full story of how she found him so it seemed likely she had been working just as hard for years beforehand. She had broken once; it seemed likely she would break again if she did not ease away from the edge.

Despite the ferocious speed with which they travelled, it still took until nearly nightfall for them to reach Mount Deathfire, the baleful light of lava from the volcano casting an eerie glow over the landscape just as the cooled rock turned the terrain into broken, deathly pale wasteland. The air tingled with energy, lightning bolts occasionally striking from one cloud of ash to the next, adding another, transitory layer of disjointed light to the hellish landscape.

“There…” Wanshan said, pointing out a place on the volcano, his finger and voice trembling with fear.

Vulkan could see it, an island of broken basalt and obsidian surrounded by deep canyons cut by the lava flowing freely on all sides. All around the island salamanders, the greatest predators on Nocturne, duelled with each other, the mighty lizard biting, clawing, and exhaling great gouts of flame upon each other’s flesh in a wild orgy of violence. More than two dozen smaller individuals had already been ripped to shreds, but half a dozen massive fire drakes still fought, their hides proven against many Trials. Floating above the island at the centre of the carnage was Puelammi.

Or at least, what had once been Puelammi. She now glowed with inner light, her veins and eyes rippling with sick orange light like she had magma for blood, the inner heat having burned away her clothing to reveal a fully mature body studded with scales somewhere between those of a lizard and sharp, studded bits of cooled lava. Her fingers had elongated sickly, forming long blades of glowing obsidian. Finally, enormous wings had sprouted from her back, great, twisted things that flapped lazily and far too slowly, constantly shedding black feathers that turned to ash once free in the air.

They set down on the island facing her, but at a distance. Once their feet touched the ground Nanoha let out a little gasp of exertion and the air rushed in to meet Vulkan and the psykers. It was hot and slightly toxic, like Vulkan would expect from the air around an active volcano, but it also carried a smell like blood boiling on hot copper, and the wind seemed tainted with whispers snatched from distant lips.

Nanoha stared at her student and asked weakly, “What… what happened to you?”

The thing smirked, blood dribbling from its cruelly twisted lips, and then it spoke with the voice of a crematorium. “My apotheosis, frail creatures, my apotheosis. I thank you, for if you had not planted the seed of false hope in my heart I never would have reached this state.”

“Do not listen to the creature, it speaks only lies,” Wanshan warned while his comrades gathered around him, all trying to give each other strength against the monstrosity standing before them.

“But I don’t. I am Puelammi… or at least I was. I was also once a wretched thing, the soul of this world, an unthinking thing, all of your petty mortal fears and pains wrapped into a ball… but now we are one and I am so much more than either could ever be alone. I think it only fair that my former companions from both sides be granted the same blessing,” the creature said, tracing its fingers lazily through the air, little eddies of light in unnameable colours spiralling away as it tugged at the fabric of reality.

Vulkan looked over the creature for a moment and then retorted, “I don’t think so,” right before putting a bullet square between her eyes. Unfortunately, the round simply shattered upon the creature’s skin, barely making her head jerk back. Nanoha and Vulkan’s eyes both went wide with shock, while the blind psykers just trembled with terror while still managing to not run screaming.

“Well now, that wasn’t very nice,” the thing retorted. The ground then shook with huge impacts as the half dozen fire drakes still left fighting leapt across the canyons and scrambled upon the stone, their hides bloody and torn but psychotic light still burning in their tortured minds.

As one the great lizards bellowed their tortured fury and the thing whispered piercingly, “My turn.”

[Highlord Laan]

Aw, shit. Daemonhost.

[DeRogue]

Aw, shit. Daemonhost.

Might even jump for Daemon Prince... Princess?

[Hawkwings]

Naturally. I mean, no less for the mighty Vulkan to face up against. Lesser daemons would just be too easy.

[Academia Nut]

Five weeks. For five weeks the people of Salamander Bastion watched as Mount Deathfire raged with crimson light and black smoke in the distance, its malevolent glow illuminating the horizon even at night. For five weeks their heroes had been missing, and the prayers for their safe return were matched by the wails of doom for the end of days. For five weeks, everyone waited for an end.

Then one afternoon, one of the sentries spotted a dark shape on the horizon, ploughing through the tall grass of the plains. Word spread quickly, and scouts were dispatched. All throughout the settlement people felt dread and hope, wondering it was their salvation or their destruction making a beeline for them. The scouts on their sauropods mounts plunged into the grass and went straight for the disturbance, leaving everyone else behind to hold their breath.

When the answer came, the initial reaction was a stab of fear as the horns of the scouts sounded, before it was realized that signal was one for triumph, not for attack. The sound of distant horns was quickly drowned out as the populace realized that evil had once more been driven back, that the abomination was vanquished and their heroes returned to them. Only a few had the presence of mind to wonder why they had not flown back.

Finally, after five weeks of waiting, the grass parted for a final time before Vulkan as he stepped into one of the cleared fields, his former clothing gone, replaced by a makeshift cloak made from the hide of a salamander, his fine rifle and bayonet gone, replaced by knives and a sword sized for him made from the teeth of some great fire drake. The razor sharp grass harmlessly caressed his skin, yet numerous long scars and burns adorned his frame, the wounds already mostly healed and fading into the background of lines he had received in the campaign against the alien raiders.

The cheers at his return quickly died away in confusion when no one else followed him out of the grass save the riders who returned as his honour guard. From the grim look on his face, everyone quickly realized that there was a reason for that. The same reason it had taken Vulkan so long to return and why it was on foot. Silence fell over the crowd.

Vulkan had returned alone.

He marched up to the settlement, looked over the repairs that had been made in the wake of the fire after he left, nodded a few times in approval before he said, “I will be in my home for a few hours, please continue what you were doing.” With not another word he entered into the sturdy structure he had built as his room and office for when he was not training or at the forge and closed the door behind him.

Silence ruled.

Slowly the crowds dispersed, confused and distraught. What had happened on Mount Deathfire? What had happened to Ga’ri? What had happened to the indomitable Vulkan to so badly damage his spirit?

It was Fara who worked up the courage to knock on his door first, nearly an hour later. When at first she received no answer, she knocked again, and again, and finally she just pushed on the door, which much to her surprise actually opened, not having been barred against entry.

Vulkan was lying on the floor, arms draped over his chest in a pose reminiscent of death, his eyes closed. Despite initial appearances, he cracked open one red eye at Fara’s entry and said, “I was wondering when someone would try the door.”

Fara’s jaw worked for a few moments without sound before she replied, “You never actually said you did not want to be disturbed.”

“So I did not,” Vulkan conceded. Sitting up while waving Fara inside, he instructed, “Come in, and close the door behind you.”

Fara did so, feeling distinctly uncomfortable in the dark, bunker-like room with only the faint glow of Vulkan’s eyes to guide her, but with a flash of light he ignited a match and used it to light a few candles, providing a faint amount of illumination that simultaneously made Vulkan’s features softer and more sinister, depending on the exact angle.

Finding a seat on a chair sized for normal humans, Fara stared at Vulkan in the dark for a time before she asked, “What happened?”

Vulkan just stared back with eyes holding back incredible pain for a few seconds before he replied, “I will take that story to my grave, as my telling it could never due proper tribute to what occurred out there.”

Fara stared at him incredulously before she snapped out, “Bullshit!”

A tired smile creased Vulkan’s wounded face, and he suddenly looked two centuries older than he was. Bowing his head slightly, he said, “The truth will bring pain, and lying about it will do worse damage, so I hold my tongue.”

“So you will just let rumour run wild? Is that not the same as lying?” Fara demanded, furious at his passive behaviour.

“Yes… and no. I keep my voice silent on the matter because I do not know the full truth. I could say what I know, but that would just force upon everyone else the same doubts I now suffer. I would prefer the wild, unfounded rumours to what could grow from even a glimmer of what actually happened. All that is safe to say is that I am the only one to return here from the battle,” Vulkan explained sadly.

Fara wanted to scream at him for his obtuseness, wanted to berate him for his stupidity, but the longer she looked into his eyes, the more she could see the immense pain weighing down upon him. She remembered that time from over a month ago, remembered the words left unsaid, and then went to him to do exactly the wrong thing. She knelt so that she was level with his sitting form and hugged him as tightly as she could.

Vulkan got as close as he ever had and probably ever would to crying. Instead, he just placed his arms around Fara’s shoulders, gently rest his skin against hers. He could crush her ribcage with a single hand. He could flick a finger and shatter her skull. He could pick her up and hurl her body into another person with enough force that both would die instantly on impact. She was so fragile, so impermanent, and yet she was like a rock to cling to in a storm.

Despite that, even as he held her close with feather pressure, Vulkan still whispered, “You know, it was your comment that set Puelammi off.”

Fara stiffened at the comment, and she surely noticed just how solid he was. Before she could say anything, Vulkan just pressed her in closer, preventing her from getting out another word. He continued on, slowly and deliberately, “One could say that this whole situation started because you were jealous.”

Vulkan could feel her tremble. She was scared. She was terrified.

“If we track this logic, then Puelammi, Wanshan, and most of all Ga’ri are gone because of your actions,” Vulkan detailed out. He could feel it. Fara knew that she was going to die.

Pushing her away from him, Vulkan stared down at her and said, “Of course, if I said that then I could not be held blameless. After all, I took Puelammi under my wing even though I knew her presence was hated in the forge. I also decided to chase after you instead of her when you had your dispute because you were my student longer. Going even further back, I encouraged the Order to bring their trainees here. I even used my sister’s reputation as a recruiting tool. Puelammi was only here because of us, because of me.”

Fara was shaking and her face was stained with tears of panic and relief in equal measure, and her mind was still trying to catch up with current events. So Vulkan continued on. “There are many ways to respond to a mistake. I could be bitter, I could be angry, I could try to repress it by burying myself in work or battle, or I could try to do what I think my sister would have wanted me to do. She would want me to learn from this disaster, to learn from where it all went wrong, and to not let the past dwell in my gut as rage and bitterness.”

The tears had opened up the flood gates of her nose and Fara sniffed deeply to try to control the blockage, but she was only partially successful, so her words were a bit choked when she said, “You could try to be less scary for one.”

“Fara, I punched a fire drake in the jaw so hard the bone shattered and the joint dislocated. I am putting a great deal of effort into being less scary right now,” Vulkan stated. “I am doing this because of the last thing you were about to say to me.”

“What?” Fara asked, confused and rattled.

“You were about to say something you should not have right as our conversation was interrupted by events spiralling out of control. That is not something the mind lets go of so easily, and you must have dwelled upon what was not said ever since. I know that in my long journey I reviewed many things in my head, and that was one of them. I am fear itself when I want to be, so I need to know if you still want to say back then,” Vulkan explained.

Fara nodded slowly and said with extreme care, “If you do not know how to care for others… I… I… I could… I could… I could teach you.”

Vulkan embraced Fara again, this time more tightly although with the same control needed to keep her from turning to paste in his arms, and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“Vulkan?” Fara asked, confused by his long, repeating gratitude.

Still holding her, Vulkan said, “I have a hole in my heart I do not know how to fix. My sister would berate me if I gave up on loving others just because I lost her. If I gave up now, I do not think I could care for another again. It is forward into the unknown or backward into callous despair; I cannot stay where I am now. I need you to show me the way. I need you to show me the way.”

A new fear gripped Fara and she admitted in a small voice, “Now… now that I… I… I don’t know if I can. I don’t know what to do.”

“Asking was the first step, I think,” Vulkan replied. He then said, “Let’s figure out the second one together.”

---

Additionally, Dark Heresy stats for what Puelammi became:

WS 30
BS 35
S 60
T 42
Ag 25
Int 82
Per 66
WP 91
Fel 13
Wounds 30
Psy Rating 8

Unholy Changes
Claws
Wings
Bleeding Mouth and Eyes
Inner Fire
Scales

Daemonic Presence
…snatches of sound without connection can be heard
…the air is filled with the scent of blood
…muttering familiar voices can be heard
…the air is hot, as if standing in front of a furnace

Psychic Powers
Create Door
Flaming Word
Beastmaster
Fire Storm
Incinerate
Precognitive Strike
Blood Boil
Force Barrage

Traits
Daemonic (TB , Dark Sight, Fear 4, Flyer (4), From Beyond, Natural Weapons (Claws), Warp Weapon (Claws), Unnatural Strength (x3)

[LadyTevar]

Ga'ri is dead?

[DeRogue]

Awww, I miss Ga'ri already. Also Ow. That daemon sounds like a tpk waiting to happen...

A large number of times.

[Academia Nut]

By the reckoning of those with the memory of such things, Vulkan had appeared on Nocturne four years ago, even though his true age was completely unknown. While he did in fact keep track of such things, he did not particularly make a particular deal about it, which was why he was both amused and a touch bemused as to why everyone made such a big deal about celebrating it. Still, it was nice to be appreciated, and he supposed that a party every now and then was a good mood lightener.

He knew that the people of Nocturne certainly needed some cheering up after the disasters of the past few years. The raiders had returned after a long lull, but Vulkan had masterfully kept his army from both decay and turning against their neighbours. They had returned to face multiple armies on many prepared fronts wielding the most advanced weapons Vulkan and his thousands of smiths could produce and all coordinated via telepathic communication supplied by the Order. It had barely been enough as the aliens brought with them weapons meant for annihilation rather than pillage. The triumph after had been a solemn thing, more a remembrance of the destruction rather than a celebration of victory.

Seeing the joy of this festival thrown in his honour, Vulkan had to marvel at the resilience of his people. Two weeks ago they had been in desperate war for control of their world, hiding in caves and crevices, trying to seize control of the shadows from the raiders, turning every inch of their world into a giant deathtrap. Now the same men who had been so grim faced and dark eyed before swaggered and pranced about, challenging each other to feats of strength and skill, posing for women who had stood beside them in battle who in turn fawned and gawked over the strutting braggarts like they were immature girls. Was it all merely an illusion, or was this what their faces looked like when the mask of war came off? Vulkan fervently hoped that for the majority of people the latter case held true, because he knew that he had taken too much pain in the past year and a half for his smile to be completely genuine. First Nanoha, then N’bel, then…

The thought caused Vulkan’s face to sour slightly. Losing his father had been bad enough, but Fara… after that he had changed the orders for any raiders that might accidentally survive the battle from straight up execution to death by fire, with incineration via dangling over a lava flow the preferred method. The drastic measures he had to take to keep the assassins from targeting any of his other loved ones still hurt like hell. He had mounted dozens of charred alien skulls with their own blades above the entrance to his home as a reminder to any of the shadowy assassins who thought to target him or his personally that they would not survive the experience.

Just as quickly as the frown creased his lips Vulkan banished it. If he fell into bitterness and despair then the bastards won. He had suffered incredible loss, but he would continue forward and never forget the lessons his loved ones had taught him on how to love. People needed to see him appreciating their efforts, and the thought of him lifting their spirits cheered him in ways dark memories could not counter.

Sitting at the main feast table at the only table capable of supporting his truly enormous frame, Vulkan quirked his eyebrow as there was a bit of an event over at one of the duelling fields that was drawing a crowd and raising quite the commotion. Setting down the bowl sized goblet of spirits he had been sipping at, Vulkan stood up and said to those eating at his table, “If you will all excuse me, it would appear that someone is making a bit of a fuss elsewhere and I should probably go see what is happening before someone does something stupid.”

That elicited a laugh from the merrily eating diners, many of them eagerly tearing into the food with the ferocity of the half starved. A lot of people had died in the ferocious conflict with the raiders, leaving fields untended and herds to wander free, something that Vulkan’s armies had taken custody of simply to keep it all from going to waste, so this celebration was also a way of giving food back to those who had lost so much.

Wandering over to the gathering crowd as casually as an obsidian skinned giant adored by tens of thousands could, Vulkan used his superior vantage point to peer over the crowds at a rather impressive one on five sword duel, the five being the best swordsmen in Vulkan’s army and the one being a strangely dressed, pale skinned man. Just by looking at the stranger, Vulkan could already tell the outcome of the fight, and his men would not be the victors. He could also tell from the whispers of the crowd that they knew it too, and that many were speculating on where the man had come from.

Carefully sliding through the crowd, Vulkan reached the edge of the duelling arena and held up a hand while announcing, “Hold good sirs! I know your pride is on the line, so do not damage it more by drawing out the inevitable. But let us all give a hand for all the competitors here today, especially for the victorious stranger!”

The five men all looked slightly relieved that they would not have to take the fight to its embarrassing conclusion, and the stranger graciously bowed to Vulkan. He then said, “Thank you. I boasted that I could best any man here and it seems those men took offence to it.”

Vulkan snorted and looked down at the five swordsmen for a moment before he said, “If you think that ganging up on a man who brags is the way to address an imagined slight to my honour then it would seem that you all need more philosophy and less swordplay.”

The five hung their heads in shame. The whole thing was a rather large stain on their pride and honour, but it would do no good to protest against Vulkan’s rebuke considering he was right. The stranger looked rather amused and asked, “Most men in your position would feel threatened right now.”

“Most men in my position do not get there by being threatened by random strangers. Your skill with the blade is impressive, but I have seen many who were impressive with a blade.” Vulkan then jerked a thumb at the gruesome warnings hanging over the threshold to his door. “Their skill was immaterial in the end.”

“Would you then care for a match?” The stranger inquired.

“It could be arranged,” noted, taking stock of the man’s attitude and bearing before he said, “I think however that this is a clever ruse on your part. You want something bad enough that you are willing to make it a wager as a part of this duel.”

The stranger burst out laughing and nodded sagely. He said, “Your reputation for intelligence and perception does not do you justice. Yes indeed, there is something I seek. I seek your oath of loyalty.”

The crowd gasped and the held its breath while Vulkan considered this statement. Vulkan stared down at the man for several seconds before he burst out laughing, something that took him aback and just further confused the crowd.

“Oh my, that is the funniest thing I have heard in a long time,” Vulkan chuckled, clearly amused by the man’s irritated expression. Smirking at him, Vulkan stated, “Loyalty given from the result of a contest is not something worth gaining. Loyalty is something granted only to those worthy of having it. It is not something that is won; it is something that is earned.”

The stranger’s frown reversed into a smile and he bowed his head slightly in agreement before he said, “The tales of your wisdom are well known, but truly I only wish for your loyalty even more now.”

“What cause have you so great that my loyalty must be demanded rather than my assistance requested?” Vulkan asked suspiciously.

The man gestured to the duelling field and suggested, “Perhaps we should wager a question each on the outcome of a match?”

“No,” Vulkan said immediately. “Or rather, tests of strength of arms are meaningless. Just because a man can swing a sword does not mean he can lead. So if you wish to do this, I will accept, but as the challenged, I get to choose the contests… plural. This is not something that can be decided on a one-off event.”

“Excellent! I accept your terms,” the stranger declared.

Vulkan smirked and replied, “You’re going to regret saying that.” He then raised a hand and said, “Bring forth the sculpted tables, the ivory dice, and the figurines of pewter!”

There was a collective grin from the crowd, and the stranger just furrowed his brows and asked, “What?”

“The first challenge is one of intellect and spirit. If you wish for me to join you then the only possibility is you have some military campaign in mind. During my campaigns I found planning invaluable even if plans are always the first casualty in actual battle, and I later refined it into something of a game to help teach my officers in strategy and tactics. That shall be our first challenge,” Vulkan explained as the crowd parted for the requested equipment being brought forth.

“You wish to play a war game?” The stranger asked incredulously.

“Five rounds, all based on actual battles fought, and we shall alternate between sides,” Vulkan said while he began to instruct the assembly of the various terrain models.

“Very well. What are the rules?” The man asked.

The smile on Vulkan’s face was nothing short of daemonic as he said, “I will tell you when you break a rule.”

The man blinked three times before he burst out furiously, “You expect me to play a game where I don’t know the rules and you are both my opponent and arbitrator of the fair play?”

“Life can be a bitch sometimes, can’t it?” Vulkan asked while he began to unpack the miniature armies of men and aliens. “I said that this was a test of intellect and spirit. A leader worth following is one who can still lead even when everything is arrayed against him.”

The man held his tongue and said, “Fine.”

Four hours later and the table was lit by torches, and the game was tied two rounds each. As Vulkan had expected, the man had caught on incredibly quickly, picking up the rules the moment he first experienced them so that by the third round he knew the majority of how the armies played, even if he found the rules unrealistic and irritating. Vulkan also remained honest and did not invent any new rules along the way, or enforce something unevenly between the two of them.

Now it was the final match, with Vulkan playing the human forces and the stranger playing as the raiders. The terrain was a complex maze of canyons, and the objective was annihilation. Vulkan’s flamers were inflicting massive casualties, but the terrain meant that his troops were disorganized and had no coordination, something the stranger was taking vicious advantage of.

“…and with that, I make a sweeping advance, wiping out the squad,” the stranger stated, concluding his turn.

“Very good,” Vulkan conceded before rolling his reserves check. Getting a six, he nodded to one of the men watching over the model cases and said, “I will deep strike in Ga’ri.”

Vulkan watched very carefully as the model was handed to him and then as he placed it on the table in out in the open, in full view of the three hover craft the raiders used as transportation. There was only confusion as to why Vulkan was placing a model of a young girl in a strange dress in the middle of a vicious firefight. Anyone who knew Nanoha would not have responded like that.

Thirty seconds later the stranger cried out, “BULL! SHIT!”

“Hey, it’s totally legitimate according to the rules,” Vulkan replied as half the remaining raider army was packed away, including all of their vehicles.

The stranger glared at him for several seconds before he said, “I concede.”

Vulkan nodded and said, “Very well. Would you like to begin the next challenge now, or wait until morning?”

“Let it begin now, I am not tired,” the man stated, although he was clearly irritated by Vulkan apparently deciding to say ‘I win’ even though a Divine Buster from Nanoha was a completely legitimate move in the war game, and a valid tactic during the later stages of the first campaign. Then again, Vulkan was not actually interested in winning; he was interested in seeing how the stranger responded to stimuli.

The man was a brilliant tactician, and once he knew the limits of his units he used them to their fullest, but he had a ruthless streak in him Vulkan was not sure he liked. He was willing to sacrifice units for goals Vulkan was not sure were worth the cost. The fact that he had not responded at all to Ga’ri meant that the man was from very far away… and yet he knew of Vulkan.

Putting the thoughts aside for a moment, Vulkan announced, “Very well then. Bring forth the go board.”

The stranger quirked an eyebrow at that and then said, “Another game?”

“Yes,” Vulkan said as a new table was set up and the board and pieces set down in front of them.

This time recognition flashed before the man’s eyes, and he said, “I was unaware that your people knew of this game.”

“There are a few who play,” Vulkan answered, which was to say that before Nanoha had shown up and taught it to him the number of players on Nocturne could have been counted on a quadruple amputee’s thumbs.

The games went on through the night and into the next day, Vulkan slowly building up a picture of the man before him. The stranger was a man of incredible intellect and force of will, but he was also used to getting his way and far too focused upon Vulkan, all but ignoring everyone else in the settlement. Finally, with the second dusk since this challenge had begun starting to fall, Vulkan said, “No more games.”

The stranger nodded, but was clearly thinking ‘Finally’. Vulkan stared at him with a level gaze for a long time before he said, “For a time I thought that you might be seeking Ga’ri and wanted to finally pry my story out of me, but you know nothing of her tale. You in fact know little of my story either.”

The man looked like he was going to protest, but Vulkan held up a hand and said, “I am not finished. You know little of my story because you knew of me before there was a story to tell. But before there was a story to tell, I was an infant lost to the storms of the Trial. You knew of me when I was an infant, and you seek me now. Am I wrong, father?”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd that turned to awed silence as the stranger’s guise fell away like an abandoned costume, revealing a giant in golden armour of the same stature as Vulkan, his face noble and cut from stuff sterner and less yielding than granite. The few members of the Order of Pure Flame who were in attendance all dropped to the ground in supplication, begging for mercy from whatever they saw with their strange senses. Soon others began to bend their knees in awe as well.

Vulkan remained standing, staring his father in the eyes. After a time he said, “You have a strange way of greeting your son.”

“My sons are all powerful men, prone to pride and I often have to show them why they should follow me. I am impressed you were able to determine who I was without the gift of foresight. I have so much to show you my son, so much to tell you, so much to teach you,” the man explained.

“What may I call you?” Vulkan asked.

“Father, or the Emperor of Man if you feel like being formal,” the Emperor stated.

“Tell me then father, why have you been absent these past four years?” Vulkan inquired.

The Emperor frowned and said, “It may have been four years for you, but it has been over a century since you and your brothers were taken from me by foul forces.”

Instinctively Vulkan knew what the Emperor meant and he could feel his lips pull back from his teeth in a feral snarl. The Emperor looked at him sadly and said, “I can see now that such things have hurt you twice now, both times denying your family. Now that my mind is free of the cloak of disguise I can see you and your sister. A remarkable young girl, I would have liked to have met her before she died, especially considering how well she shaped you my son.”

Vulkan bit his lip and then asked, “You said ‘brothers’?”

“Yes, you have brothers. Each one is a general in my armies, each one leading a Legion of the finest soldiers the galaxy has ever known. We lead them across the stars, liberating the human worlds fallen to aliens and corruption, leading humanity towards a brighter future. Your Legion waits for you son, waits for you to show them glory and conquest… and revenge. The perfidious Eldar plague many worlds, and you know well the threat of uncontrolled psykers,” the Emperor explained, and Vulkan knew that this was what he was born for.

“What of my mother?” Vulkan asked.

Something flickered across the Emperor’s face, and he said, “I have much to explain, but suffice to say that you have no mother. You and your brothers were born from my blood and my mind alone.”

Vulkan nodded without understanding and then said, “I suppose such a curious conception explains the rate of my growth.”

“Yes my son, yes. Come, I shall summon my shuttle and show you things you have never dreamed of before, and I shall explain everything,” the Emperor stated.

Vulkan nodded and said, “Yes, yes. If you will give me a few minutes, I must prepare a few missives for my people so that they will not be completely lost without me.”

“Of course, of course,” the Emperor said, clearly understanding the needs of leadership.

Father and son turned away from each other, the Emperor desiring that Vulkan not watch as he carefully slid the stasis vial out of his belt and deposited a few things taken from his son’s home into the arcane technological device. They were small things, but they had preserved well. A few strands of auburn hair and some white flakes of skin.

For his part, amidst the other messages he sent, Vulkan let out a very secret one that said in code, “Possible new threat appears. Keep her hidden and safe.”

[drakensis]

Vulkan watched very carefully as the model was handed to him and then as he placed it on the table in out in the open, in full view of the three hover craft the raiders used as transportation. There was only confusion as to why Vulkan was placing a model of a young girl in a strange dress in the middle of a vicious firefight. Anyone who knew Nanoha would not have responded like that.

Thirty seconds later the stranger cried out, “BULL! SHIT!”

You broke me.

Even now, I read that passage, imagine the Emperor saying that and... bwahahahaha!