He was glad for it. It gave him something to focus on: to acclimate to the world and the dangers it presented.
There were plenty of them. He quickly learned that most of the militia rotations used a mixed unit of species, each one being treated tactically, covering each other's weaknesses, and complementing their strengths.
Though, he found it quite surprising that Regia kept partnering up with the team, and would be giving out orders, testing their reflexes with blasts of water, and occasional heckling.
In the evenings, even exhausted, he would work in the smithy, helping Varrick with various items while Claire got a makeshift lab set up, using borrowed chemicals from everywhere across town. They would work until the nebula was prevalent in the night sky, before calling it a day.
Most people would call it exhausting. He called it an experience, as he spent part of the night dismantling one of the rifles, and the accompanying alchemical rounds. After consulting with Garrett on how to do so safely, he had successfully deconstructed one, and showed the components to Claire.
“No gunpowder.”
“Say what?”
“Yep. It’s a small trace of gel activated by the hammer impact against the center of the case–almost like nitroglycerin, which is unstable as all hell. Functionally it almost feels like a rimfire cartridge, and there’s no primer. The gel is the ignition source, that’s it.” He showed the jelly-like substance he’d been able to carefully extract and showed her how viscous it was. “So, when you hit it with the hammer, the high impact triggers it, and it ignites. No sparking, like in a rimfire.”
“What a weird magical technology,” she murmured. “What do you think the limitation of it is?”
“It’s not as good as gunpowder,” he concluded. “Or, the gel isn’t potent enough. If I had to hazard a guess, based on the travel speed at the target range? It's mid-range at best. Not very effective against giant monsters around here, at all. Last estimate I had was like, six hundred meters a second. And that’s not accounting for drag.”
“The recoil is quite manageable, though. Barely kicks at all. The bullet could also use some work, it’s not very aerodynamic,” she pointed out. “You want to hit targets hard, and at long range? You need either a more potent gel, or gunpowder.”
“You can make it, right?”
“Sure, they have most of the preamble here, and no one’s bothered using it. We also need an ammo reloading bench.” She frowned when she pointed at the casing. “The straight wall cartridge sucks. Do you know how many times it got jammed in the chamber? Like one in ten rounds. That could be a lethal issue in a crisis moment.”
“I’m not inclined to disagree, they need a lubricant, tapered casings, or copper trace to extract the rounds better. Though, having claws does present an advantage,” he added as he demonstrated putting an intact round into a disassembled rifle, then pulled it out with little difficulty.
“Show-off. You’re leaning into this a bit.” At least he could get her to smile a bit.
“Not really. Claire, what if I forget what I used to look like?” he asked quietly. “Like, the me I used to be? The me that I’d like to get back to, which while quite average, was me." He gestured to his body. "This? I don’t know what to do with this, yet. I have no photos of me, now that we’re stuck here on Remaria. And the phone I turned off, because the nearest charging station is about one reality away, give or take.”
“I’d remember,” she replied, giving him a good look.
“Yeah, but it’s not me, when I look in the mirror. It’s a gestalt run wild, that turned me into something else. It’s a risk I took–”
“No. I know it’s you.” He didn't mind the interruption, while she leaned back in her seat. “Do you know how I know that? The way you talk. The way you scrunch your face when you’re trying to solve a puzzle–like we are, with these rifles. The way you get that wonderstruck look, when you find something new to study. A physical appearance is only one component of who you are. It’s…something I think you need to keep in mind.”
“That was… actually quite thoughtful,” he conceded. “I like it when we’re working together, rather than trying to egg each other on.”
“Me, too! I like solving problems with chemistry. And possibly explosives.” She tapped the round gently on the table, and he very cautiously put a hand over hers to avoid activating the round.
“I don’t think you should tempt fate by tapping that wizard bullet on the table,” he pointed out. She glanced down at the round and nodded.
“Yeah, good point. Well, I think if we go with gunpowder, we will have another problem. These barrels are not made of strong steel. The components will likely rip themselves apart if we try to go for higher chamber pressures. This? This already loses some of the power, because it gases something fierce. You’re losing a lot of potential energy, the way it’s set up.”
“I noticed. There’s plenty of room for improvement, at least. The lever action works, but I prefer a bolt action, mechanically it's simpler. Trigger groups for automatic or semi-auto could be possible, too.” He stretched his wings gently and felt fatigue building in. They’d already spent part of the day training, and helping out Varrick sapped the rest of his endurance.
“There you go, on about improvements. Got a practical set of things to work on?” Varrick asked coyly, tapping a thread on a simple fastener.
“Gunpowder. And a better barrel. I’d also like to switch to a bolt-action design. Lever action is a pain. I can do it, I have some calculations on how to pull it off,” he answered as he tapped a claw on the table. “Ah, it’s late. I’ll jot down notes and we’ll start looking around to see where we can get some of the components of gunpowder.”
“Why not use the alchemist gel?” he asked with curiosity.
“Need a primer, too,” Claire pointed out, “if we use gunpowder.”
“The gel could act as a primer,” he suggested thoughtfully. “We want bigger bullets, and speedier bullets. Also, harder bullets, if you want to penetrate deep into a monster’s guts and past their tougher outer hides,” he explained. “Don’t worry Varrick, we won’t put you out of a job, but if we do make this work, you’ll be overwhelmed with orders.”
“Burdened with work? I guess that’s not the worst thing that could happen,” he replied, and let out a rumble of contentment as he finished his work. “Let’s start fresh tomorrow.”
“With Regia and Garrett running us in training? Yeah, we’re stretched thin.” Shawn glanced at the clock on the wall. “How does a planet that’s broken into pieces even have a consistent twenty-four-hour day?”
“It’s easy on the outer layer. The deeper layers rely on those giant solar crystals that take sunlight deep within. There are some strange day and night cycles, deeper down,” Varrick answered as he closed the bench and walked over to his loft. “Try not to stay up too late, you two."
“Can do,” Claire answered before she started putting the parts into a drawer. “Well, onto the next challenge for tomorrow, then.”
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Training the next day always presented new opportunities and new solutions to their current problems. He spent as much time as possible working on his gestalts.
The hard part was finding that rhythm within himself, the pulsing core of Etteria that was now integrated with his body. Giving it shape and form was getting easier with each attempt. and it was taking less effort to continue using his abilities.
Regia explained that the Etteria core--the physical portion, and the metaphysical one--could grow and become more complex over time. with regular use, it was like working a well-toned muscle. He jokingly called it 'magically fit' and got punched in the wing by her. However, he also noted her fighting back a laugh as she did it.
Of his powers, the force barrier was easiest to use, but the most difficult to get the maximum potential out of--owing to his still nascent attempts using it to make molds at Varrick's smithy. He could still summon a barrier of incredible strength when he focused it on a smaller portion of his body, or a broader, less focused barrier gave him full body protection–if needed.
And, protection for his fist, when he did a quick sparring with Trask and Raine. He’d landed a blow that sent the elder Vorhunde tumbling, complaining about a bruised rib. Shawn felt some impact as he shook his clenched claw, and noted something: he’d hit way harder than he had planned for.
Did that mean he could amplify force? “Damn, Shawn, you might be an Aveeran, but you hit like a Vorhunde!” Raine called out with a hint of excitement and helped his brother to his feet. “Hey, Trask, are you broken?”
“No. I want a rematch. Birdy’s fast on his feet,” he grinned, and wiped the sweat away from his fur. “Ten gold says you can’t do that twice.”
“I don’t have money. I like playing for sport,” Shawn commented dryly, panting a little from the exertion. This lack of sweat is annoying. It’s going to be a limitation in a prolonged brawl. I need to find a way to work around it.
A few rounds later, he was convinced that a burst activation of his force barrier would not only protect a part of his body. But, it could also amplify the force of his blows–without shattering his bones. Trask had landed a good hit on his beak when he misjudged the man's motions.
It felt like getting punched in the nose. He groaned, wiping a trickle of blood away, and Trask helped him to his feet, smiling.
“You good?” he asked. Shawn felt his beak for any damage–just a cut on the inside of his cheek, and he gave him a nod.
“I’m good.” Internally, he noted he should try that reactive barrier against more hammer blows, and whether it would also soften the impact on him.
“Shawn, you know, most Aveerans flare out their feathers when they’re being laborious,” Garrett commented in a subtle nudge. “No need to keep up appearances.”
He’d felt his feathers bristle before, and trying to do it on-demand wasn’t as hard as he thought. Claire laughed at it. “Like a giant feathered heat sink,” she teased.
“I uh…wasn’t that winded,” he tried to deflect. She still wore that wry smile though. Seriously, why didn’t I think of that?
You’ve been an avian for a week, and managed to stay alive in a forest filled with predators. There might yet be hope.
He learned something else, while he was sparring–those wings of his could give him an extra burst of speed to dodge and evade, and he evaded a few blows he didn’t think he could have, from before. Flight practice had been limited–he knew enough to take off, but sustained flight, he wasn’t good at. It was like trying to work an atrophied muscle–it would be slow and painful.
All through the day, Regia had been happy to demonstrate with a blast of water every now and then, to see if he and the others were paying attention to threats.
The first time he got soaked and was left dripping wet, with Claire and the others laughing at his failure to get his barrier up in time, was a teachable moment he was not keen on repeating. He glared at her accusingly but said nothing.
She just whistled and said he needed to be more fleet of claw. He swore it sounded like a line from a book, somewhere.
But, it also allowed him to test something else: his fire gestalt. He got annoyed with the dripping wet sensation, and rather than change uniforms, he twirled the small ball of fire in his hand while sitting cross-legged, thinking of its utility.
He started tossing the small dart of fire in his hand, rhymically. He used to do the same thing with a stress ball at work, and it helped him think. Meanwhile, he listened to Garrett talk to the others about the various gestalts they had witnessed personally, and what to expect out in the field.
Halsey, can I…channel this over my body, without incinerating myself?
Maybe, if you got it low enough power, yes. But, don’t fry yourself. I don’t think you’re a phoenix, and that won't end well.
Wait. Are there phoenixes in this world? He'd been listening to Garrett talk about monsters and the other sentient species in the world, but this definitely wasn't one of them.
Well…I recall seeing something in your head about a fiery bird that would self-incinerate upon death, and then a reborn phoenix would rise from the ashes. I don’t think that would happen here. So, don’t try it?
Yeah, I’m kinda nervous about the lethality of some of these gestalts. He choked the flow of energy across his palm, and the flame flickered, barely more than a candle’s worth of energy, in preparation for his plan. He slowed down his breathing, focusing on that tiny flicker of flame, and his Etteria flow. Now, I just need to do this at a low enough power, to not incinerate myself.
He kept his gaze focused on Garrett showing off his gestalt, and how he used it to tactically displace at high speeds. Shawn was impressed by how fast he moved over short bursts; he was practically a blur of feathers and claws. But, he also noted how continuous use left Garret instantly fatigued, panting, and unable to answer immediate threats with high effectiveness
“See what happened? I got winded,” he stated between pants. “This is why you need to keep a reserve for an emergency, because threats are plentiful, in the wilds beyond our forest town. We also have a militant god on the move below our feet, and they have gestalts, too.”
Shawn noted that against other gestalt users, he’d need to pay careful attention to what powers they had. He’d been sitting with his Etteria barely a trickle, and felt confident enough to try the next step. He gently opened that mental check valve of energy, and let it flow across his body.
He felt a gentle warming across his body–starting with his extremities, then flowing inward, toward his torso and chest. A very faint glow of orange surrounded his body–not a full flame, but something of a precursor to it, and he felt his soaked clothes drying off, a bit at a time. He kept his breathing calm and controlled as he used his hand motion to act like a mental throttle. And he nudged it ever so gently.
Bits of steam rose off his clothes, but it felt like a reward for figuring out a puzzle, and more importantly, it felt like a good soak in a sauna. Claire shied away nervously.
“Hey, Shawn? You’re steaming.”
“Gestalt training, shush,” he spoke slowly, eyes open no more than a crack. “Don’t break my focus–”
A blast of water from Regia put him right back at square one, and his force barrier came a fraction of a second too late to prevent him from getting soaked again. He squawked with frustration. “Damn it, I was almost dry!” He glared intensely at her, while she wore that knowing smirk.
“You forgot the most important lesson, Shawn, be aware of your surroundings!” She leaned in and tousled his feathers, and he let out a sound of disgust. “Besides, you did it once, which means, you can do it again.”
“I think you secretly hate me,” he stated accusingly.
“Hmm…no.” That coy smile was possibly the most annoying aspect of the ordeal, and he wiped the water from his face for the second time in a row. “Now, what have we learned?”
“Be aware of my surroundings.” Rather than retort, he leaned into it–for now.
“Good. Now, Trask, show me your shadow evasion again, and get a hit on Garrett!” Regia instructed and got everyone back into motion on their training.
Claire wouldn’t stop chuckling as Regia fluttered up to her observation tower, watching as people practiced on the range. “I think she likes you.”
“Is it normal for people who like you, to torment you?” he asked with an edged tone.
“Oh no. That's marriage-level dedication.” He stared at her, unable to form a retort while she wore a Cheshire cat grin. “Just saying, in the worst case you’re stuck like that forever? It’s good to keep the options open. I could be an honorary aunt someday!”
“You are more terrifying than the monsters that roam the forest. And possibly–”
A primal scream from the forest got everyone’s attention, and Shawn instantly flicked a flame dart in hand, while Claire grabbed her rifle, sighting down and looking for a threat. The others quickly grabbed cover near the barracks while Regia called out for a calm and ordered defensive line. "Ah hell, what is it this time?" She snarled. "The next monster that tries to murder us, I'm beating it into submission, and domesticating it!"
“Shawn, big thing closing fast, tree line, two hundred meters, due north,” Raine called out, sharpened claws ready for battle. Shawn could feel that ever-so-gentle nudge of the magnetic north, and all the others turned to face the threat once he pointed in that direction.
“Claire, fall back to the town wall, get everyone inside. Raine, any idea what it is?”
“Big, and hungry, that’s all I’m getting!” He grabbed a rifle from the firing range and chambered a round, as did the others. Shawn could hear another ear-piercing screech, and something massive was trampling the trees, closing fast.
“Recruits, fall back to the town wall!” Garrett screamed out. “Valtirian thunderhead incoming!”
Shawn knew by gut instinct this was a danger level above murder cats. The trampling foliage crushed downward to reveal the beast, easily the size of a small truck. It was charging on a set of four sturdy legs, covered in a tough blue and green colored hide that would put a rhino to shame. Its head was shaped like a hammerhead shark, and energy crackled from its teeth. One thing was clear, this was a predator that Regia had been right to be wary of.
They were in for a bad time.
Dun-dun-duuuuun! Boss Battle!
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