SwanInTheHouseOfTheLogrusSB: Swan: In the House of the Logrus"But perhaps" Horatia looks at the remnants of the spread. "It is time for rest. We've more lessons in shapeshifting, including your elemental form, before Suhuy will declare your lessons done. He would be loath to leave such a promise unfinished and incomplete before the Queen Mother finds us." Swan gives a light nod, stretching out. “I like you, doll. You’re a keeper.” The next few days are practice, practice and practice. Suhuy, his hunchback form replaced with what looks like a double-breasted suit and tie, with Red wing shoes, returns and the lessons in shaping return again, more intensive this time than last. Her Great White/panther war form is practiced, and practiced, and this time she gets some toys to play with, and some sparring practice with Horatia. The intent is to make going to the war form natural and instinctive, without thought. Between that, there is some practice with allowing Swan to loose some of her boundaries, to let emotion and her inner life flow into her shapeshifting. Eye color changes. Growing fangs, claws. Hardening of skin. Swan is encouraged to let emotion and need have the shifting changes come out. During one sparring session, however, the other interesting aspect to her comes out. As Horatia reaches to put Swan in a headlock, without thinking about, her Siren abilities manifest suddenly and without warning, making her intangible and invisible even in her war-form. "Impressive." Suhuy says. "A dimensional shift. Your chaos-infused Pattern?" Crunchy-Swan flexes her claw, smiling at its transparent glow. When it solidifies once again, she balls it into a fist. “Yeah. Still working on the finer points,” she chuckles gleefully. “Got the whole phase-thingie down pretty well, though. A little sugar and zoom-bal-loom, dagger up your strap.” Her flesh flows like water until the Beauty that is Swan returns. “Between this and Skin-dancing, I should be rolling naked in cabbage before you can say, ‘Agh, my spleen.’” "I did not know the Barimens could do such things." Horatia says. "Now you know why Swan was such an excellent choice for shapeshifting training." Suhuy says. "She already has touched Chaos, even if it as a stained and changed Pattern." He looks at Swan. "But now that you have returned to normalcy, the lesson of the moment is to invoke your primal form. To put your body in mortal danger and let you go Elemental. See what your body comes out. Getting your body to shift and not phase is going to be difficult..." And then he strikes, suddenly. Swan feels the coil of Logrus energy rise up in Suhuy like a wave, and then one of the tendrils wraps around her like a tentacle. A tentacle that is infused with shocking energy that only increases as the tendril tightens. Time slows down for Swan. Death is funny that way. You get a good old look at it when it’s coming your way. Not that you can do much except wonder what color pumps go best with the Big Sleep. You also get a nice taste of the pain it brings. Normally, in a moment like this, she just gets pi$$ed off. That, and her unconscious desire to simply let go, to cash in her chips. But, today, there’s something else lurking beneath that burning rage. Some primal need to deny this end, to reject the limitations of her body, to spit in the face of its frailties. She’s no longer constrained by flesh and bone and form. She can be formless, mutable, unrestrained. Eternal. Her mind knows this. Now, her body learns this as well. As the tendril tightens, her flesh flows around it. . . dissolving, not into water – as Horatia suspected – but into something black and ashen and ethereal. Smoke. Fire and Air. Order and Chaos. Bound together, feeding one another eternally. Like the smoke rings she has blown over a century of life, Swan becomes form from formlessness. Horatia gives off a gasp as the transformation is complete. Her face is a mixture of surprise and delight. The spectral creature slides free from the killing restraints, boiling across the floor in an ashen cloud. It reshapes itself into a humanoid silhouette – red and orange fury glowing behind pitted eyes and slashed mouth. The Flame and Shadow hisses like an ancient geyser, “Give me one reason I shouldn’t pull your ass over your head, Old Man.” The killing restraint of the tentacle, grasping air, disappears and is gone. A grin is across his face and he shakes his head. "Trying to kill me would inevitably lead to your death, and I would rather not cause the Queen Mother some grief over it." Suhuy says. "And you should *thank* me" he adds. "You are magnificent. The hellmaiden had imagined a water elemental, flowing, primal. Most Chaosians pick one element for their form. Some of the more clever ones use a combination of two." "But you, Swan. Fire and Air, and a touch of negative energy to make a creature of Smoke and Ash. Such creativity in your makeup! With such a form,you could war across much of the Black Circle. Reave Charrae, stand proud among the Efreet in the City of Brass." He rubs his hands together. "I am the midwife of the unlocking of your true potential here in the Courts. Potential denied by your years near Amber. That's why you won't try to kill me.' Swan’s opaque form collapses, spreading out over the floor like a cloud of ash. “Yeah, you’re my Huckleberry, Suzy” she purrs. “This is nice.” Her face disappears, as the cloud boils and rolls across the floor like oil. The darkness coils around Horatia’s feet, swirling, sparking, before moving onwards. After a moment, the cloud resumes its humanoid shape. A Cheshire grin slashes across its mouth – revealing glowing embers. “Okay. Give me the lowdown on this. Ain’t just for slipping the bracelets is it?” "No, it is not." Suhuy says. "Although it was a clever ploy. Studying and perfecting your Elemental form, internalizing it, will permit you to instinctively shift into it when confronted suddenly with a situation that requires survival." Horatia grins and chimes in. "Fight or flight, Swan. You have learned the war form, and your body knows what it needs in order to fight. We practiced that. Now, we perfect *this*, and when a situation that you can't fight your way out of emerges, and escape and survival are the only options, you will instinctively shift to your Smoke Elemental form." "Some shifters, not many." she adds. "use their elemental form in an offensive capacity as well." "Perhaps" Suhuy muses, scratching his chin. "the opportunity for Swan to employ such gambits should be added to her training to perfect the Smoke-Ash form. Create eidolons for the purpose." He rubs his hands together. Swan gaze drifts back and forth between them – or, rather, the glowing pits forming her ‘eyes’ shift within the ashen cloud. “I’m game if you are, Tia-Maria. The more I glom, the better. Liking this side of the Family more and more. So many possibilities.” Suhuy's smile is beaming. "I do hope that the Queen Mother's daughter will prove as enthusiastic a student as you, Swan." he adds. "She approaches, possibly in search of you. She has another hellmaiden, her demon, her vassal, and a Hydrargyrum elemental with her of all things" "She must have conjured it from the river" Horatia murmurs. "A rather interesting group, I must say." Suhuy says. "I will leave the two of you to practice in the meantime. We'll shortly see how committed they are to reaching here." Swan shrugs slightly, “They’re a rate bunch of eggs. Don’t cut them any slack. Probably just get their panties in a wad, if you did. They like the rough and tumble. But Ezzy may be a tough nut to crack. She’s stiff as a highbinder’s shirt. Only thing flexible on her is that pig-sticker she swings around.” "Ah, yes." Suhuy says. "The Puissant Weapon she bears. I sense that even from here." And he disappears in an overly theatrical puff of smoke, like a stage magician having a victim disappear. When Suhuy heads out, Swan turns to Horatia and gives a fiery grin. “Right. Let’s tango, doll.” Horatia nods. "I suspect anything the Keeper is going to send, he will be able to find us. Let's get to one of the rooms where we can break things." Horatia's choice is a cavern that looks like its made out of an old lava tube, mottled black rock in a cylindrical shape, running in both directions once the pair climb up (or down, directions go wonky) into it. Once on the floor, Horatia looks around suspiciously. "You know, as soon as I change into my own elemental form, that's when the trouble will hit. Ready?" Swan jerks a nod – or the smoky facsimile thereof. She waits for Swan's assent, and then shifts. Horatia's elemental form is allied to Swan, in that it shares the element of fire. But the burning black crust above what is probably a gooey magma center, judging from her red eyes, suggests that the hellmaiden uses fire and earth, rather than fire, air and negative energy. It's not a particular bulky, large magma form, much more of a lean creature of hot rock in parallel with the severe look of her war form. Her voice comes out gravelly. "The last I used this was a dip into the Great Volcano in shadow Stromboli " she says. “Mrmmmm… Stromboli. I could do with one of those right about now,” Swan says. She wagging burning eyebrow. “Though might be more fun getting a taste of your meaty center.” Horatia's confused look turns slightly wide-eyed, and then grinning. Swan at that moment hears the clanking. Forms coming up the tube from both directions maybe two dozen in all, short, stumpy, looking like hobbits made out of brass or bronze, and carrying polearms suited to their size. The flat blades of the heads of the polearms are glowing faint blue in color. Swan chuckles faintly, but her manner remains deadly serious. “You take the dozen on the left, I’ll take the right.” She slowly approaches them, letting the group flank her. She wants to be in the worst position possible, so she can see how well she can get out of it. When they finally take a swing, she lets her body slide and roll around the floor ~under~ the attacker – then attacking it from behind, driving molten claws into its back. Or, at least, that’s how she hopes this new body works. Horatia happily troops off to take the "east" set of automations, leaving Swan with a dozen nasties of her very own. They are eager to remove her degrees of freedom of movement, it does not take much on her part to get them to flank her, seeking to attack her from multiple angles and directions. In place, they stab with those glowing polearms of theirs. Swan is still getting used to her new form, and she does feel the blades of a couple brush her before she manages to get out of their way. Their touch is not so much an elemental sensation as a bludgeon of magical force, seeking to disrupt her, make her lose her form, her concentration. A full round of such treatment might have well succeeded. Smoke and ash behind one of them, her attack isn't so much fire and molten as it is smoke and hot ash. Fire in the form of its byproducts, smoke and ash, rather than pure molten power. Swan guesses it would take more education and practice to switch her elemental form on the fly, and for the moment, is restricted to these in the heat of battle. Thusly, instead of melting the metal hobbit with her punch, the thing stops, seizing up as hot ash and smoke invade the crack created by the force of her blow. Adding smoke and hot ash into the innards of this creature does not do well for its well-being, as it continues to convulse. The remainder of the automations turn to wield their polearms, forming a thicket to make it more difficult for Swan to try that trick twice. Swan giggles to herself. ~I’m a walking, talking coffin-nail.~ With this revelation now fully established, she begins sliding and slipping between the amassed group – shaping her body to avoid blows and strikes. Whenever possible, she slides a limb – of which she has many – between the seams and opening of her metallic opponents. Like volcanic ash choking a car engine, she clogs up air-intakes to starve her attackers of their life-giving oxygen. Ashes gum up gears, causing them to cease and mistime. Not spectacular way to kill, but certainly effective. She is like the Death Angel of Second-Hand Smoke. It’s an odd sensation though – sticking one’s body parts into another being. She dimly registers what should be ‘pain.’ Swan learns with each blow, each penetrating attack, becoming accustomed to this amorphous, airy form. In a moment of pure inspiration – or madness – Swan slides completely into one of the metallic creatures. Trying to take it over like a second skin and control its movements. The automations get a little warier as Swan starts to learn and develop combat techniques in her Smoke and Ash elemental form. They stop their thicket about the third one she manages to kill with circuit and metal harming volcanic ash, and it takes a little more movement and interplay for Swan to make successive kills. One thing--she's learned how to move as Smoke and Ash. While true flight is not really possible, yet, certainly there is a fluid elegance to her motion now. With less than a half dozen left, slipping into one of them is a much more practical option. Getting her form into the body is not difficult with a strike, its trying to take control of the automation afterwards that proves challenging. Seeing and sensing inside of it, there are things like circuits and wires, at least that's the way Swan registers them. But her entropic laden touch is not the healthiest thing for them, the controls degrade even as she works them. It certainly confuses the other opponents, who mill around their dominated comrade, not quite sure what to make of Swan being inside one of their own. Swan fiddles about inside the thing, not enjoying the sensation on bit. She’s definitely not going to challenge Aunt Fi anytime soon for mind-control, but at least it was worth a shot in the dark. In the meantime, the other set of metallic hobbits are being melted into slag one by one by the remorseless attacks of Horatia in her lava form. She is struck and hit, and takes wounds that heal quickly, very quickly. Her punching, however, leaves their foes half melted and senseless, even as they try to surround and injure her. Satisfied with the result sof her experiment, Swan gives her ‘puppet’ a final touch of death – blistering wires and clogging circuits. Then she rips out of it, leaving destruction in her wake. The metal hobbit doesn't explode, but rather collapses in a heap shortly after Swan vacates it. While the others remain confused and distracted, she billows across the room to assist Horatia. “Trade off,” she says with some authority. “Keep them off-balanced with our techniques. Old close-quarters trick.” She tried to pull the attackers off Horatia, and then move them away at an angle. . . allowing her time to recover and reengage the others. The hobbits that had engaged Horatia are rather surprised to find Swan now in their midst, molten punches replaced by smoke and ash and entropic destruction. They do recover from their state of shock quickly. But not before several of them fall to her touch. One of them, finally, steps back, well away from the group and opens its mouth. A gust of strong wind, the force of a gale, emits from its mouth. Its powerful enough to slightly cool Horatia, way down the corridor. The effects on Swan are more disruptive. The wind is strong enough to batter at her, keeping her from the metal hobbit, and keeping her integrity disrupted for as long as she is in the cone of the wind spell. Unstopped, the wind threatens to unmake her into a cloud of smoke and ash, without being able to form a quasi solid body of same. Swan feels her body starting to dissipate. A wave of fear hits her. This is so foreign, she has no frame of reference on how to deal with it. She struggles to keep her body tight, flowing back with the current without breaking up. The wind continues to blow, fighting her efforts to remain fully integrated and together. “Screw it,” she mutters and summons her new Gift. She has no clue how her elemental form will react, but she tries to phase – slowing time and ‘jumping’ behind the offender. Swan is used to phasing in her ordinary body. And perhaps trying to phase in her war form would be the same as that. But to try and phase in a somewhat disjointed and dissipated form is different. Very different. The core of her starts to phase out of reality, but her form makes it difficult for the phasing to catch her form and transition it. And for all of its strange nature, the broken Pattern is an icon of order, however bent. A creature of smoke and ash is not a creature of order. At least, Swan hasn't figured out how to make it so. Most parts of Swan remain stubbornly unshifted. In fact, mostly only her head and some of her torso have shifted into the ethereal. Swan can see the metal hobbits, and the rest through the lens of that shifted reality. However, the rest of her body remains in the material world, amorphous, reacting badly, a cloud of smoke and ash without definition, and being blown severely by the wind. If Swan does not return to the material, or manage to get all of her form to phase, Swan will tear herself into two pieces, one in the ethereal, one in the material, with unguessable consequences. "Shift!" Horatia shouts. "By the Serpent, shift!" Knowing two Swans don’t make a right, she desperate tries to reassemble her body back into something more. . . whole. Pain – if it can be called that – clouds her mind as her particles drift and swirl, threatening to disappear forever. Like playing a game of terminal pick-up-sticks, Swans pulls each piece back into her body, phasing them back into the material world. It hurts like a bastard, but she solidifies herself into the now familiar war-form – pulling more and more of the ashen elements into her. It isn’t pretty. It isn’t pleasant. But with any luck, she puts it all back together in something akin to humanoid. . . without extra fingers, toes, or breasts. The good news is that Swan manages to get into her war form and out of her elemental form without an extra head, arm, finger, toe or other body part. That's the good news. The bad news is that shifting back out and all of it back together hurts bad. Hurts bad enough to briefly turn her vision into a shifting kaleidoscope of red and black triangles. The metal hobbits moving in as she reforms and shifts doesn't help matters, either. The next minute is much recovery mode for Swan, and no offense is possible. Her Shark/panther form is agile enough to keep from going down in a rain of blows. And, of course, the air gust from the one hobbit now is no threat at all. By the time that metal hobbit realizes it, Swan is back to functionality. Horatia has taken apart some more hobbits, but is further surrounded by adversaries who thought the wind machine was enough to take the elemental form of Swan out. Swan’s learned her lesson. Time for school to be out. Still reeling from the pain, she summons her pistols to her. It isn’t pretty. It isn’t proper. But, frankly, she doesn’t care anymore. And definitely not with her new friend in trouble. Getting torn apart herself – been there, done that. But touch one of ‘her’ Furies? No, sir. Not going to happen. She uses her liquid grace to dodge in and out of the slashing blades – firing near point-blank into faces and chests – the armor-piercing slugs cutting deeper than her claws ever could. And when the rune-bullets run out, she tosses the guns away to grab one of the halberds. Pain-fueled rage blinding her to wounds. . . all that matters is the killing. The hobbits are surprised by the first few shots, as rune bullets rip through metal and ichor, felling them with well placed shots. Two of them do turn to the new threat, both of them raising what look like arcane shields. Fortunately for Swan, rune bullets can and do shatte So, it just takes a couple of additional bullets to eliminate the threat. This does mean that Swan has to switch to halberd sooner rather than later, but her war form is strong enough to handle the weapon with ease. Glorious carnage and slaughter, wading into the remaining hobbits. Caught between a Hellmaiden's gift for death, and Swan's, the remaining enemy are reduced in numbers rapidly. Until nothing remains save Horatia, Swan, and the smoldering wrecks of Suhuy's creation lay at their feet. "Are you sure, Swan?" Horatia says with a smile with the same sated satisfaction of post-coital bliss. "that you aren't one of us?" The Glorious Beast wipes the sweat and oily blood from her aquiline brow, offering a shrug. She doesn’t want to admit how much she loves this form. Its power and grace, its needs and desires. Feral and beautiful. She half-wonders if the Weir must feel like this. Wouldn’t Carl get a kick outta her now? She snorts. “My mother was a torcher. My father a royal bastard. Both dead to me. One literally, the other figurative,” she says, stalking through the ruined bodies toward Horatia – her shark-like tail swishing through the gore. “But this? This is too rate to be a coincidence. And we have a lotta cuckoo’s eggs in our family.” "We'll figure it out." the hellmaiden says confidently, shifting to her more human form. She grips Horatia, pulling her close, all tight and slippery. The Need is still there, now as transformed as her flesh. She kisses the woman’s, hard, growling. “Either way. I’m Home.” Horatia's kiss in return is just as wanting, just as passionate and just as needful. "An offering of sex on the battlefield." Horatia says once the kiss is broken. "You ARE a hellmaiden." she declares triumphantly. "Offer accepted." In short order Swan finds herself on her back. Not quite as dominant in mating as her superior is in the hellmaidens, Horatia nevertheless has hungers. And in fulfilling Swan's, sees that her own are fulfilled as well. Some time later. Perhaps much later. "You may wish to be done now." comes a distant, sing song voice. The Keeper. "Your friends are here to bring you back to the Queen Mother." He does not come into view until Swan can roll off from on top of Horatia and both can get back up again. "One daughter, one hellmaiden, one vassal, one elemental and a demon." Suhuy says. "Looks like Dara really missed you." he grins, swinging on a cane as he comes into the cavern. He looks around the metal hobbits. "It would seem that you have passed with flying colors." Backlinks |
