Bladeraver (pt50) (339 hits)
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Submitted by Tactile Ire (View user info) at 2007-04-22 18:41:01 EDT
The next morning they shared caff in the cosy dining area of the enclave. They were joined by a few of the children who engaged in good-natured squabbles underfoot. The loud noises from the grown-ups frightened a few of the playmates. The Mantling seemed to be the centre of the storm.
Drewhldt and Jeena were confused and upset by his actions. Flens remained distant, unfocused. Mantling faced their concerns with his customary reserve. "Can't you just tell us what that was all about?" Drewhldt asked. "I mean bladeraves? Why do we have to get involved in that scene? It's tacky, it's illegal and it's liable to get you killed."
"I have work to do. And that is where I have to do it. That should be enough for you swordsman." The Mantling slammed his cup down on the table, slopping caff over the wood, and strode from the room.
"Well that went well," said Jeena.
"I just don't understand what he's up to," said Drewhldt.
"When have we ever?" asked Jeena. "Drew', why did you two swear fealty to him? Was it just because the city intimidated you?"
"No," said Drewhldt. "I mean that was part of it sure. I know my limits Jeena. I'm a half-thick grunt. Good with a couple of weapons. I know that the best someone like me can do is find a capable leader to stick by. And Rammstein's gone. Arjl's a teacher not a captain, and he's old. You'd have me wiping butts and runny noses. So that left him. But it was also because of his sight, his vision."
"His 'vision' Drew?"
"Well, its like, once up in the canopy - when we were getting swarmed. The mants had us dead fall. We'd been taken in by their feint, got back to the column in time to see most of the people fleeing. I landed near the mants. They were swarming up over a couple of my buddies. I just stood there. Watching them die. There was nothing I could do. And then he shows up, takes my flamepole and burns them. While I was frozen in place watching my buddies die he was thinking things through. He could see what was going to happen next. He saved us all. And I just remember looking at him. Amazed at him. The clarity he sees things with. The willpower he brings to the follow through."
"Well remember those reasons, and trust. He'll have a purpose in this beyond mere blood-sports," said Jeena.
"Any idea what that might be?" asked a chagrined Drewhldt.
"If I know our guy at all," said Jeena. "I'd say its revenge."
***************************
The Mantling went directly from the breakfast table to the canopy by the fastest route he could find. He went overland to the North Tree and then took the lift cage up. From there he struck out at random, moving through the canopy on slinglines, travelling fast and easily. He swung past a group of canopymen who called in consternation at his free-swinging mode of movement. They leaned into their safety ropes and strained the holds of their climbing tools to watch him go past. He was moving faster than any man there could believe was possible.
He noted the paucity of the canopy he moved through. In comparison to the wild deeps he had experienced the branches here were stripped, sick and stricken with man's predations. Hardly any animals or insectoids moved around him. Even the ever-abundant bird life seemed thin in number. He stopped at a particularly ailing riamu, stripped bare of fruit and over-taxed in its efforts to grow more, the forest giant was in a bad way. At the crux of one branch the Mantling put his hand into the apparently solid wood of the trunk only to have it come crumbling away in his hands. Clearing the dead wood away in swathes he came across the familiar boreholes of drillworms. The parasites had begun to infest the trunk in numbers - the first death knell for the tree. Eventually the worms would kill the giant and it would fall, killing the worms as well. He shook his head at the folly of a species that could not live in balance with its environment, but instead destroyed the very realm that gave it life.
Make that two species.
What to do? The greedy, money-grubbing, venal idiots in the city turned his stomach. The way they each absconded from responsibility for how they allowed their society to be run, accepting it because it was the status quo. But what if they actually felt as he did? What if they too dreamed of a better world? One where honest and hard-working men didn't have to cast themselves out into harm's way. What if, in their hearts, they weren't really lack-witted scum? He fingered the crumbling wood and debated his course of action.
He stayed aloft and wrestled with his thoughts for the next three days.
***********************
When he finally came back to the log pile he moved with a new surety of purpose. He was delayed on his trip down the North Tree. He free-climbed down in the gathering dark and seemed to come into difficulty a few yards above the ground, stopping there and fussing with gear and load for a full hour. As a result he was running late, still sweaty and filthy from three days in the wilds, when he got to the bar Charke had named for their meet. It was a quiet public house in one of those bohemian areas that people persist in thinking of as poor despite the vibrancy of new wealth. The trappings of its destitute past remained in dilapidated storefronts and the few derelict denizens crouched in dank doorways. But behind this were the signs of gentrification. The shop interiors glistened invitingly and the old drunks were bustled aside by young hard-working men and women of purpose.
The bar that had been chosen for their meeting was typical of the neighbourhood. Old, solid, carved fittings, scarred from hard use, had been refitted and polished to new warmth throughout the long, low hall. What had once been a dank, draughty and dinghy open space had been cleaned up and carved up into small cosy alcoves, warm and softly lit. In one of these alcoves Charke, Jeena, Drewhldt and Flens nursed sparkling spirit drinks and talked in low tones. Much of they time the others listened as Charke held forth on the not quite illegal business of bladerave operation. The Mantling hung back in the shadows, listening to the spiel.
As in all things the bladeraves had a competitive hierarchy. Top of the heap for moons had been the bizarre attractions of the House of Pain. There was a clutch of junior clubs constantly nipping at 'the Pain's' heels. Bladerave promoters worked hard to add new variations and attractions to 'pull the punters' and attract fresh young fighters to their regular nights. A small club that managed to pull a regular strong crowd, came up with a hot new gimmick or, even better, discovered a star fighter, might then be granted a 'Versus'.
In this instance an older, stronger club would hold an event in conjunction with the upstart. The fighters from each stable would compete. The crowds would mingle and the promoters would feel each other out. The outcomes of these nights were as many and varied as the bladerave clubs themselves. Sometimes, one of the clubs simply ceased - losing all they had built in one mismatched bout after another as previously loyal fans began chanting the victors call-signs - and it was not always the newer club that lost in this manner. Other times a club's fighters might win but the club itself would fail - destroyed by a lack in one of the crucial support areas like musicians, dealers, bookies or security. Sometimes the clubs were too similar and the crowds would meld into one unified following. Other times the clubs would be evenly matched and the night would become an epic contest of vibes and fighters that left both clubs separate and alive but hurt deeply - losing burned-out fans and favourite combatants.
The outcome was never formally announced but in the drug-fuelled vibe of the mob-mind all would know the true result. The only surety was that both promoters would emerge well paid.
A lynchpin of any club was the bitch. A club's bitch was the stable champion - the most popular fighter the promoter had on his books. This was not always the best fighter - although skill did tend to enamour the crowds. A wily promoter could ride the talents of one good bitch all the way to the top. And Bresta had been a fine bitch. Which explained the wrath of Rhys, the goldshirted man. Bresta had been well touted around the Lower Trunks - much sought after as a guest-fighter at several of the other 'underground' bladeraves.
This had been good for Rhys' 'Immolate' and that night some of the organisers of both Scream and Gatecrusher had been on hand to check him out. His death in a preliminary warm-up bout would be the talk of the industry for the next few weeks. This level of underground attention was almost always pounced on by the bigger clubs, hence Charke's enthusiasm. With Rhys busily networking away the disaster with the two big-name club crews he had left Charke - lowly bookie and the only man on the floor with the stones to approach the insane killer amongst them - to pick up a sweet management contract.
Of course Spikehand was insane - no mentally balanced man could match the speed and ferocity of a well-drugged bladeraver. At this point the rapid fire talk petered out and Charke nervously eased himself back on his chair as the Mantling loomed out of the shadows and, with a menace that bordered on shameless hamming, enquired again about the terms of this 'sweet management contract.'
Charke recovered his composure quickly. "Oh man you are so HOT! You burn man. I've just met with Rhys. Get this. We have an offer. A full 'Versus' with Gatecrusher. Standard slice of the gate sales - matching promotional spend - the whole deal right down the middle. Since it's you they want, I've gotten Rhys to give us a thirty-cut man. Cash time! Oh yes! Gig's in six weeks. As part of the build-up you've got a guest spot at Gatecrusher in two weeks - a first blood match against their bitch - mucho kudos and moolah - a sweetener for the promoters - part of the 'hype' clause."
The Mantling looked distinctly unimpressed. "It's a start," he said.
"Oh this is mant shit!" said Drewhldt "Man' - what do we need this for? This creep, this shitty 'industry,' any of it. Jeena says you're after revenge. Fine. Name the target. I'll take Flens and some armament, go do a nasty piece of wetwork and we can get on with our lives."
"Drewhldt. Peace. If you must know, I'm doing this because we need the cash."
"For what?" asked Jeena softly.
"We have an election to win."
They stared back at him in mute incomprehension.
User Reviews
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2007-04-24 15:05:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by genericIntent (user info) at 2007-04-23 11:06:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sorry about your sister.
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-04-23 02:08:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WOOOOO!
50!
This is awesome.
AWESOME.
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-04-23 01:45:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm sorry about your sister.
Submitted by silent1 (user info) at 2007-04-23 00:31:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yeah! I had been looking for this!
(Obviously patience is not one of my virtues).
Sorry to hear about your sister.
Submitted by Ildeth (user info) at 2007-04-22 23:51:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-04-22 18:43:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry for the missed day. I went to New Zealand to visit my sick sister.
Thanks for solid run of plus2's on the last post, guys. You make me blush.
******************
Blush, my arse - you know you deserve it! Very underrated if you ask me...
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-04-22 23:49:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Hey Bubba,
Thanks for the kudos. This...
http://www.ubersite.com/m/87410
...was published in a quarterly sci-fi Australian magazine called Aurelias. They paid me and everything.
Hey Benny,
It's a nice thought, but my sister won't be getting better. Which sucks. A lot.
Submitted by whiskey_jack (user info) at 2007-04-22 23:30:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-04-22 18:43:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry for the missed day. I went to New Zealand to visit my sick sister.
**********************
Lies! everyone knows there's only sheep and tourist in New Zealand.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-04-22 23:29:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2007-04-22 23:06:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It surprised me when part 50 wasn't waiting for me on Friday...never mind life occasionally has to get in the way of Uber. I hope your sister gets better soon.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2007-04-22 22:41:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-04-22 18:43:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry for the missed day. I went to New Zealand to visit my sick sister.
Thanks for solid run of plus2's on the last post, guys. You make me blush.
******************
No need to blush. You write excellent stories, and I appreciate them. I think, perhaps, I am not alone in saying you should look into publishing some of your work. Getting published is difficult at best, but you should try, nonetheless...
Submitted by ih8u2man (user info) at 2007-04-22 22:40:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 50. That in itself, as a mark of dedication, deserves a whack of +2's in my opinion.
Submitted by whiskey_jack (user info) at 2007-04-22 20:30:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
If I had a foot fetish I'd wanna change your shoes for you cause this was an interesting read.
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-04-22 18:43:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry for the missed day. I went to New Zealand to visit my sick sister.
Thanks for solid run of plus2's on the last post, guys. You make me blush.