Returning the Favour [Closed]

[Schwieger]

Polynya's Visit

PW-1 Universe

 

What the hell? Why are we here? Yamsi Natynozh growls. This verse is unfamiliar. Pords don't control Uranus, or at least they didn't. 

 

You were called here by a ceremony at this shrine... It is the only one built in your honour so far, Polynya states bluntly. She points to a city down on a rocky moon. I guess they've been busy elsewhere, the Polar Herald states. She brushes a long lock of brown hair away from her face and it floats in the void. 

 

Yamsi nods. Damn him. Damn that man! he considers to himself. But for once it truly isn't the fault of the Yamsai'an. They no longer dominate Nalydian politics and Cholkük, now leading the Natynozh, probably did honour him. The Yamsai'an wouldn't interfere; the Yamsai'an and Natynozh have an uneasy alliance of sorts - they work against the growing might of Kornat Hanüch and the encroaching Zhyssians. This too Yamsi knows and shakes his head at the thought.

 

The Pord moved into this verse, Polynya tells Yamsi, and now lives in this system known as Orbis.

 

How... Peculiar, Yamsi replies.

 

The UMS have also joined them, she says, remembering the name of the organization. Triskel and Maya and Brotherhood all have claims in-system.

 

Yamsi nods. 

 

Polynya points to the various planet-systems and explains details about them. Apparently the Mri have set up shop on Orbis II and Orbis I is within their economic zone. There appears to be some sort of consternation around the general area of Orbis III and Orbis IV, whatever that might be about. Their attention eventually comes back to Uranus, to the capital of Colony Natynozh, before zooming off towards Neptune. 

 

The mortal realm seems to be much more busy than when I last was here, Yamsi notes. 

 

Polynya shrugs. It's all the same, she says. But the Pord is always up to something, she says... Not that it matters. The shambolic happenings of NS are very fractal and, for the most part, difficult to observe in their entirety. Polynya shrugs again. What a pathetic realm.

 

Yamsi nods. I suppose so, he says. His mind drifts back to the final days before he fell cold. The UMS had practically just been formed, but there were... Anomalies - oddities he could not quite pin down. Temporal scientists throughout Imperial Nalydya at the time were working feverishly to sort out the mess but no headway was being made (something about timeline divergences or paradoxes or something...). And then Jlokhemit took him and all was made clear. Voznayte lost a bet and Yamsi Natynozh, the great Hunter-General and favourite of Voznayte, was the wager. The timeline was destroyed and reality was reset. Yamsi would become an Arbiter of Winter - the Second Arbiter - beneath only the Grand Arbiter himself. He grabs his trident out of nothingness and turns to Polynya: Is this still NS-1?

 

No, she says. 

 

It's not... FB-1 is it..? Or MS-1? 

 

No.

 

BB-1..? ZB-1..? C-

 

This realm was only recently found by the Pord, she interjects. He calls it... She pauses briefly while struggling to recall the Pordish name. PW-1, she says. The races inhabiting it are still rather... Primitive.

 

Yamsi chuckles at the thought. The Pords were once primitive - just yesterday if Polynya is to be believed (and by Amaruq's assertion, still are).

 

Is this why Grazhni Yamsi was built here? Yamsi chuckles again - nervously, but genuinely.

 

Polynya shrugs. Sure, she says. High Hunter Choryzhnova Kolytaq oversaw the construction of this shrine as well as the colonization of another world that bears your name... Her voice trails off into the void; Yamsi raises an eyebrow.

 

I have no idea who that is. 

 

Polynya laughs. You wouldn't. She is Zhyssian, I believe.

 

Yamsi's eyebrow remains raised. A Zhyssian? Overseeing the establishment of System Natynozh? The Second Arbiter turns away. Skirts incredulity, he utters.

 

The Polar Herald can only laugh. See for yourself.

 

Yamsi lowers his eyebrow at the comment. For a moment he sits in thought. I think I will, he finally decides. Polynya nods at the decision. 

 

He turns. A chilly distant world fades into view but it is not as Polynya implied. Massive warships float cold and dead in her orbitals and the remains of once truly massive docking facilities circle the world's equator in tens of thousands of broken sections. The planet, however, is not entirely dead; on the surface sprawl tens of billions of...

 

Naxids, Yamsi growls. 

 

Polynya shrugs. Would you look at that. Must've recently fallen, she says. 

 

How does this even happen? Yamsi questions. Deep down he knows why, but it still is... Shocking. After all, the fleets of the VRZ are invincible, at least when compared to insects... At least as far as he witnessed back during his tenure amongst the corporeal. 

 

Yamsai'an holdings in Orbis probably had priority, Polynya says. 

 

Yamsai'an? I thought you said the capital was Grazhni Yamsi?

 

Polynya floats slowly. There are Yamsai'an holdings on the third world in the Orbis System, she says. 

 

Yamsi frowns. Sure enough, the myriad buildings of New Yamsai stretch skyward out of the Icelandic snows. This... Looks like Earth, he says. This was defended in lieu of System Natynozh..? Why are there even Yamsai'an holdings here..?

 

Polynya can only shrug. Pord goes where he wants to, she says. 

 

You know I - he cuts himself off. Polynya, apparently, has left. Nevermind, he says to himself. 

 

Fortunately, most of the architecture is familiar enough for him to navigate the city. Not from his having been here before (no, he's not been here before) but simply from the style and arrangement of the structures. It obviously was planned with great care and finesse. Thus he finds himself beneath the great gates before the Icelandic Palatial Villa atop which Pords with tridents march. He motions for them to open the gates. 

 

A moment passes. The gates, however, remain firmly closed.

 

Your identification is suspect, one of the trident-wielders calls to him. Yamsi nods.

 

I am Yamsi Natynozh IV, he calls back, Once Hunter-General of all the Natynozh, but now the Second Arbiter of Winter.

 

No reply comes forth from the guards. They chat amongst themselves; he can overhear them speaking:

 

"System seems to think he's Yamsi as well, but Yamsi is dead."

 

"There's obviously an error here."

 

"What was that about Second Arbiter?"

 

"He's a fake, obviously, we'd know if his grave was disturbed."

 

Yamsi says nothing to them in reply. A few more minutes pass as the guards bicker back and forth before coming to a consensus. 

 

You will not be allowed through, one says. Leave the premises. 

 

Is this not the Yamsai'an Palatial Villa for this realm? Yamsi questions.

 

One of the guards raises an eyebrow. Tasi, he says. 

 

By the grace of his eternal winter, all the Yamsai'an and those underneath them on this world will join my Natynozh brethren in the afterlife, Yamsi says. 

 

He's insane, one of the guards says. Get him out of here before he causes a scene.  

 

Two of the trident-wielders nod. Suddenly they appear to float off of the wall to join Yamsi at ground level; closer inspection would reveal two tongues of water upon which they surf. In unison they level their tridents against Yamsi: Leave, one says with heavy force in his voice.

 

But he says no more. Colour absconds from his face and his form takes on an icy-blue tinge; his movements are stopped and a look of horror splashes across his face for the few moments that he retains control of his facial muscles. With a dull thud his trident crashes into the snow. Yamsi walks past him without even acknowledging his presence or that of the other guard who has suffered a similar fate, or the guards on the wall who seem to have fallen victim as well. The ice of the gates of the walls part for Yamsi and he enters the courtyard of the Palatial Villa. His entrance, however, has not gone unnoticed. Off in the distance he can see High Hunter Nykat as well as a handful of other Hunters emerging through the main doors of the facility on the opposite side of the courtyard from where he is now. Yamsi takes one step forward and finds himself but a few paces from Nykat and the others.

 

Yamsi... Natynozh? High Hunter Nykat questions. Hunter-General Yamsi Natynozh, he says. To what do we owe the pleasure?

 

Yamsi nods as he watches Nykat step back slightly from his sudden appearance. I recently came across hundreds of millions of dead Natynozh, he says. Whose lives were apparently traded for the safety of this... Planet, he says. This... Yamsai'an Earth. 

 

Nykat nods nervously. The Naxids were indiscriminate. We couldn't defend everywhere, he says.

 

And so you chose the lives of the Yamsai'an and of this primitive world over those of the Natynozh. That is a shame, Yamsi says. 

 

Nykat frowns. You of all people shoul -  

 

Unfortunately, now isn't the time for debate, High Hunter, Yamsi says. That your people saved the lives of those on this pitiful world is more insulting than anything else, he says. Look around you - this is Earth. The same shithole that appears in every universe, Yamsi says, and you saved it.

 

Our defense was of the entire system, not this planet in particular, Nykat says. 

 

Minor details, Yamsi says. The Yamsai'an have been a plague ever since they came back to power, Yamsi says. I would kill you all myself if only... Yamsi's voice trails off. He shakes his head with disappointment. So much for death tempering his dislike of Hans-Ulrich's Hunters.

 

Nykat nods. By the grace of his eternal winter, he says. Fighting the Natynozh... Is not a new concept. He adopts a fighting posture and the Hunters with him do the same. They slowly fan out to surround Yamsi who takes no motions to stop them. 

 

By the grace of his eternal winter, Yamsi calls back to Nykat. The skies begin to darken and a grand Chlümüchgrazhni erupts forth spilling snow, sleet, hail, and even larger ice projectiles in myriad directions... But none of it is aimed at either Nykat or his men. It crashes down in great sheets and the area rather rapidly becomes engulfed in a white tide killing visibility and plunging the temperature to well below what would be normal for the region. Yamsi steps forward again. To the Ever-Tundra, he says. He plunges the blunt end of the trident into the dirt and torrential snows explode out in a ring round him. Nykat shields himself from the blast, but everything else on Iceland is overtaken by the alabaster grandeur of the attack and all of the occupants flash-frozen into oblivion as the avalanche rolls over the tundra.

 

Nykat stumbles back into a stable posture. He says nothing but still appears willing to fight... If only just.

[Schwieger]

The Favour is Done

What Remains of Pordish Iceland

 

The Yamsai'an have always been stubborn, Yamsi says. He turns his head fully and looks up and down Nykat's robes. 

 

Nykat moves his lips slightly. He manages no words and only silence. The winds drone past him and a small tuft of snow accumulates on his shoulders. His time has nearly come. With a single fluid motion he hurls an ice spike at Yamsi and then, with the same momentum and continuing into a spinning maneuver, a large wall of rapidly hardening snow. But upon nearing Yamsi they are taken to an even deeper realm of cold and are stopped and come crashing down. Yamsi does not move. 

 

We're about done here, High Hunter. Yamsi says. 

 

Nykat, panting, continues attacking Yamsi with various strikes. They all fail to close and he soon becomes much too winded to continue.

 

And the cold seems inviting.

 

Yamsi appears to become more distant now as Nykat eyes him (his own vision becoming much more foggy). By the grace of his eternal winter, Nykat says. He sits to preserve his energy and thinks of the grandest of tundras, the Ever-Tundra.

 

Yamsi watches him as he does this. He knows of the Ever-Tundra and its chilly expanse. He has been there before. With neither smile nor grin upon his face he walks out of the ruins of the courtyard and allows the cold to overtake Nykat. Behind him he can feel the High Hunter's life ebbing away until...

 

The Faroe and Shetland Islands are much less populated than Iceland. Unfortunately, they also house little of any consequence for Yamsi Natynozh. He sinks the islands into the sea and makes his way towards the Azores; sprawling cities cover much of the islands and the architecture, much more modern and not truly fitting of proper Nalydian holdings, deeply disgusts him. Once more winds of the Chlümüchgrazhni gather to unleash Winter upon the realm. And they do. For what seems to be an eternity the snows and ices drown out all as they cascade through the streets and through the buildings. It is a slow death in contrast to Iceland and the other islands. But these too become barren icy wastelands. 

 

Last on Yamsi's grand tour are the Cape Verde and Canary Islands. Their resemblance to the islands of the Azores is perhaps uncanny. 

 

The guardians of culture have fallen so far, Yamsi says. None of this should be, he continues.

 

Polynya folds her arms. Perhaps too harsh on them, she says. 

 

On the Yamsai'an? You know how long I spent fighting them, Yamsi says. I can hardly stop now.

 

Perhaps you should, Jlokhemit calls. His voice seems to echo and a chill descends over the already frigid land. 

 

nam-Jlokhemit, Yamsi says. He bows with respect but says no more. His trident, crafted in the image of the Winter-Bringer's own, absconds from the realm. 

 

You know how Reknu and Klovnar must feel knowing you are slaughtering their creations.

 

Yamsi straightens himself. I suppose you are right, nam-Jlokhemit, he says. My mistake.

 

As Second Arbiter you are to do my bidding, not that of your own, Jlokhemit says. Remember this.

 

Yamsi goes to reply but the Winter-Bringer has already left. He turns to Polynya. You knew he was coming.

 

Polynya shrugs. You summoned his winds. You brought him here.

 

Oh yeah... Yamsi says. His voice trails off. But there are still those islands left, he says. 

 

I wouldn't -

 

Polynya is cut off by Yamsi who finishes the job he came to do. The last of the Pordish holdings on Orbis III are reduced to rubble in a grand icy tumult, and he steps back to admire his work. He nods, but finds that he has backed into something.

 

Or rather, someone.

 

Wearing the hide of a wolf and its fur-bound skull as a cap, Klovnar floats behind Yamsi. In one hand is clasped a spear, in the other - reins with half a dozen sabre-toothed wolves pulling angrily at them. They snarl and snap and give no sign of abating. 

 

Yamsi Natynozh IV the Second Arbiter of Winter and He Who Answers to Jlokhemit Himself, he begins, we meet at last.

 

Yamsi turns around. Klovnar's pelts are similar to the Pords' own, but they are much more... Primitive in aesthetic. They seem almost as if fresh from the hunt, unlike many of which grace the shops and stores of inner Tnem-Fragg. Of course, the Pords have also largely made the transition to robes and tunics, but that is another matter entirely. 

 

nam-Klovnar, Yamsi says. To what do I owe the honour? Yamsi says quietly. Klovnar makes a motion mocking his volume but Yamsi does not repeat himself. They both know he was heard.

 

These Pords were not yours to end, my friend. Klovnar says. 

 

Before he can reply the unwelcome pain of a spear piercing his abdomen overtakes him. The planet the space the system... They all fade away. And for the first time since he first fell cold, he is unable to move. His perception, however, remains. And with it, the searing agony of ten thousand knives being plunged into his corpse. 

 

My wolves will feast upon you for the next five hundred cycles. Perhaps then you won't mess with what is mine, Klovnar says. He turns to Polynya. If you gave him advice, it was terrible,

 

Polynya shrugs. I said nothing of the sort, she says. But... Jlokhemit did warn him not to kill the Pord, she chuckles. 

 

And you didn't stop him? That should be the last time we let you train someone.

 

You lost the lot draw, not me, she says. And before Klovnar can reply, Polynya is gone.

Edited February 9, 2017 by Schwieger