A town you don't remember - Printable Version

Those heretics.

Juggernaut stood in Eridanus, once beautiful Eridanus, choking on the smell of smoke. The colonies - the damage - it was monstrous. Wisps of fungal ash drifted on the humid air, settling on the flourishing green. All of their work, undone.

Well, almost. It spotted a few white clusters from under the burnt underbrush. Just enough to work with.

This was the farthest he'd been sent since Canis, and the task was intended to be simple. Anyone could maintain the growths. But Eridanus' population was significant, and clearly resistant to the love they'd been blessed by. He alone might not save this node, but he'd try his best. He didn't have anything better - or easier - left to do.

And if said population attempted to interrupt his work, he was best suited to beat them back down if necessary.

A stinger jabbed into the clump of stringy fungus he'd nestled behind one of his horned crests while he scanned the ground for a good spot nearby. Satisfied, he speared the earth with a leg with a loud thud, and deposited the new growth in the soil. However, he was not quite capable of the dexterity the task required, and several splittings of the growth drifted like feathers where he could not see them, surface level and quite possible too small to propagate.

It was something to do, he reaffirmed.

Eridanus was. Well. He was sure that it USED to be a nice place.

And it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, either. Much of the infection had been burnt away, giving way to charred clearings already speckled with sprouting plants. Cyneweard hadn't participated in the mass burning- he had no spells suited for burning away mold nor protecting the healthy trees, and he wasn't exactly EAGER to hang out in the middle of a wildfire- even a controlled one. But the fire had since burnt out, and now he patrolled the remains, looking for straggling fungi or anyone who'd been unfortunate enough to have been caught in the fire.

His progress was slowed down significantly by the massive double-headed battleaxe he'd carried over his shoulder. It buzzed distractingly, like a fly in his ear. It had been a gift from The Blacksmith, and he was truly grateful for that! But sometimes he thought about trading it for something a little bit more manageable. And less annoying.

This train of thought was interrupted by a loud thud. Instinctively he looked towards the direction of the noise, and froze.

The many, many wings and eyes made it hard to parse as anything other than a mass of something. It took him a moment to realize it was just a single beast, shaped like absolutely nothing that should be alive. Even valkhounds, as terrifying as they were, were more often shaped like some kind of beast. Even if that was a massive, slavering, many eye'd and maw'd beast. This was more like a marble pillar that wore a dress of swanskin.

This must be a drone. He'd heard of them, but hadn't encountered one up until now. And he sorely wished he hadn't.

But he must stand strong. Strong and brave. Like a knight. Which he was. "You aren't welcome here." He spoke, trying to force the tremor from his voice as he steeled his nerves. He moved into a stiff stance that was marginally more battle-ready than his previous pose, axe held ready to deflect any stingers or claws this thing flung at him. Because it was definitely, DEFINITELY going to attack.

Juggernaut did not have an issue with bipedal Gembound as a rule. One of his litter was upright most of the time - and there was Jinyi and Vindicator too, who were treasured members of his family.

However.

Seeing this posture on an outsider, one approaching with a weapon too, brought back unpleasant memories. He felt and ache at the base of one of his tendrils, recalling the fight on Leo. He was smaller then. No less unsure of himself, though.

He is The Juggernaut. He needed to start acting like it.

It picked Cyneweard out from the underbrush as soon as he emerged. It was, physically, very difficult to take it by surprise. It stepped away from the hole (though making sure it was between the new growth and the stranger, just in case), glaring back at him with many times the eyes.

"This is... Now, our home." His voice crackled like a glacier calving. "I will protect it. Defend... If I must."

He was GOING to continue with something similarly stern yet diplomatic. However, as he prepared his defences himself, he felt one of his legs slide out from under him as it failed to take his weight, slipping on a clump of Mother's own fungus. He staggered, tendrils lashing, in an attempt to regain his balance.

Juggernaut is looking reallll choppable right now.

The thing spoke- a deafening crackle, like stone being sheared apart. Protect. Defend. Interesting word choice. Relatable word choice. But there was absolutely no relating to something like this. He was a knight, and this was- well, not a dragon, but close enough. It was a beast that threatened this cave. It had to be slain.

He braced for impact as it shifted, and. Oh. It tripped.

A couple thoughts ran through his head, like Suddenly not as intimidating and THAT'S AN OPENING! but mostly he didn't think at all. He just suddenly found himself with the ability to move- to rush forward, to raise his axe-

-and fall flat on his face.

The axe's blade fell alongside it, quite nearly cutting his head off. He felt a surge of embarrassment and terror and It's going to stomp on him. It's going to squish him like a bug and he'll protect no one, not even himself.

He felt the electricity of anticipation sweep through his outer layers, eyes fixed on the blade as it fell closer, closer to his carapace. He was already planning for what he'd do after it hit, calculating just how his flesh would cleave. He'd suffered worse, he remembered. Far, far worse.

And then Cyneweard ALSO tripped and fell, immediately mitigating the embarrassment of his previous misstep. That great axe clattered uselessly at his side - now it was Juggernaut who had the opening.

The decision had to be quick, before the knight regained his footing. In those seconds he clung to Mother, the lightness of her warm edges. She always knew what must be done. ~~Except that one time we don't talk about.~~ With that warmth, he came to a decision.

Instead of a leg, which had a high chance of a lethal strike, red tendrils whipped down through his many feathers, seeking flesh. When in doubt, he'd rely on the venom to buy him time to think.

Only one of his tendrils were on target, and near Cyneweard's arm rather than his torso. The others would collide only with the earth - less than ideal.

He picked himself off the ground just in time to see four tendrils lash out like angry red snakes. He scrambles back, abandoning his axe in favor of Not Getting Stabbed.

He wasn't paying attention, wasn't thinking, not aware of the tendril behind him until it stabbed directly into his back.

IT HURTS. He twists, spasms, trying to dislodge the stinger. IT HURTS. He's on the ground again. IT HURTS. He can't get up. He can barely breathe. IT HURTS. IT HURTS. IT HURTS.

The fight is over before it even really began, a pathetic display that Cyneweard doesn't even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about.

All that's left to do is for Juggernaut to end it.

OH. okay.

He felt his stinger sink home directly where he wanted it, the perfect spot. It was like the gembound wanted to be stabbed, the vulnerable flesh beneath fur splitting easily. It'd been a while since he'd drawn blood, and the adrenaline pulsed through him. He was Juggernaut. He was Mother's sword and shield.

And he could be her executioner, if he wanted.

Did he want that?

Time, time, more time. He needed it all. He charged forward, legs drumming the ground toward Cyneweard's prone body. He was on him in seconds, meat-grinder end slamming into his spine a little too hard, a little too fast. The only symptom of his panic. "SURRENDER NOW. OR DIE."

He needs to move. He needs to move he needs to move HE DOESN'T WANT TO DIE! NOT LIKE THIS! NOT AFTER FACE PLANTING TWICE LIKE A FRESHLY-HATCHED IDIOT!

Maybe it's the adrenaline coursing through his system, or just a stubborn refusal not to die here and now. In any case, he's able to lunge forward to avoid the crushing blow to his spine.

Instead, he gets a crushing blow to his tail.

He squirms like a trapped mouse, or perhaps more accurately, a dying bug. He struggles to pull his tail free because he swears on the oath that binds him that he will not be dying here.
Or at the very least, he will go out fighting.

He wasn't listening, and Juggernaut needed him to listen. "STOP. REFRAIN." It wouldn't say please this time.

Its voice was muffled by the ground and the tail in its mouth, unfortunately.

It rose again, mandibles chattering with irritation. It'd hesitated before, and it wouldn't do it again. It rose a leg high before sending it downward with force at the closest leg, hoping to shatter Cyneweard's internal structure beyond quick recovery.

That way he'd HAVE to listen.

More bellowing. All he had to say to that was "Never." Did it REALLY just expect him to stop? To lay down, roll over, and let it win?

Maybe not, because that leg was coming down for another crushing blow.

The same leg that was no longer pinning his tail. He took the chance to lurch to his feet, managing to avoid getting his leg broken. Instead the limb bludgeoned into his side. He stumbles back, reeling and wheezing Did something crack?

It doesn't matter. It's not like his whole body doesn't hurt already. Instead he's lunging for his axe. Maybe- no definitely- that's a stupid idea. He should run while he still can, find somewhere safe so his stone can reclaim him for the third time.

But that's just not something he can do. He's already failed at being a knight- at being his knight.

Knights slay beasts. So that's exactly what he'll do.