Life's A Dreg

by -Singleton-

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Crossover, Death, Drama, Diamond Dogs, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Original Character, Profanity, Adventure
Length: 30959

Life's a game full of decisions, and most of us don't have the power to change the rules. All we can do, is make our choice, and hope it was the right one, because in the end, no matter what anyone else says or does, we choose our own destiny.

Life's a game full of decisions, and most of us don't have the power to change the rules. All we can do, is make our choice, and hope it was the right one, because in the end, no matter what anyone else says or does, we choose our own destiny. I don't know an awful lot about life, how to cheat at it, for instance, has always eluded me, but I do know that what I say is true.

If I've truly learned anything worth knowing, leading the life I do, it's that all are equal in death. The legacies we each leave behind, that is what truly determines the worth of someone.

So with that in mind, I've got just under 70 cycles to carve my name into history, 'fore I bite it that is.

Time's a wastin', let's get crackin'.

When a House of Winter Fallen dropship is reduced to a smoldering wreck of twisted metal by a Vex Cyclops, Skell-Rook, a dreg who's reluctant to accept his lot in life as a pirate, does all he can to survive the encounter with the murderous Vex.

He makes a decision that will forever change the course of his life.

Join Skell-Rook the Fallen dreg in his last-ditch effort to survive, an endeavor that will take him to a place he never imagined possible, free of the myriad of warring species he once knew all too well. A place where no one knows what a "Fallen" is, where no one judges him for what he is. A place where he can start over.

A place, called Equis.

A big thanks to all my pre-readers who helped me refine and shape this story into a tale that is worth your time.

Santa Shaxx
Loyalist
Vedues
That One Hunter
LoneShadow

Author's Note: Eliksni = Fallen, its the proper name for Skell-Rook's species.

Published 2016-03-30 02:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-03-09 14:06:59 UTC

Prologue: I Am The Master Of My Fate

A red haze permeated the cramped corridors of the eliksnian dropship, as the occupants were allowed to chitter away idly in their alien tongue. Their Captain stood hunched over at the end of the transport bay, his imposing silhouette dwarfing every other eliksnian in the room. His four eyes burned with a strange blueish-white light that poured through the eye slots in his elaborate helmet, his ether breathing apparatus concealing his spider like facial features as his gaze swept back and forth across the other nine eliksni in the bay.

He shifted one of his upper arms to get a better grip on the stability rail above him, his lower set of arms moving to rest in a crossed position across his midsection. He wore a hardy, rubberlike bodysuit with grooves carved into it beneath his multiple layers of white plated armor, the plates arranged in such a way so as to allow him a full range of movement. The tattered teal cloak draped across him signified his place as a Captain from the House of Winter, along with the intricate and ornately decorated, crested helmet atop his head.

Three of the other eliksni within the dropship were adorned similarly, a simple grey bodysuit beneath an adequate amount of armor that managed to be bulky, yet form fitting at the same time, along with a shorter, tattered cloak than what the Captain wore draped across them. Their helmets, similarly, integrated their ether breathing apparatus into them, concealing most of their face, only allowing their four glowing eyes to poke through the angled, wide V shaped eye slot that ran along the front of the helmet. They each held a shock rifle, a strange, bulbous weapon that crackled with electricity around the shock cores embedded in the midsection of the rifle. Each of the three eliksni Vandals carried it proudly as a sign of their rank, clutching it tightly against their chest with their upper pair of arms, while their lower set fiddled with the set of shock grenades they all carried on their belt.

The Captain's gaze shifted to the other six eliksni in the dropship, his eyes narrowing as he did so, as all six of them turned their heads to the floor. There was no uniform or standardization to be had among them, save for that each one wore an ether breathing mask, and their House colors in the form of tattered scraps of dirty, washed out teal rags. Each one was different, their armor seemingly scavenged from battles past, and pieced together in a ramshackle attempt at providing adequate protection.

But what really set this motley band of souls apart, was their lack of a lower set of arms. Instead, each one had useless stubs where there should have been arms, the nubs covered by a metal casing that stunted their growth. They had not yet earned the privilege to become a Vandal, to be allowed to regrow the arms they had been docked of.

They were the dregs, the bottom rung of eliksnian society. Each of them tightly gripped a shock dagger in one hand, and a shock pistol in the other, their legs and arms wrapped in tattered cloth and bandages. What little armor plating they did wear was limited to a chest plate, thigh guards, and an open helmet which was separate from their ether mask, their spiky, dark hair poking through the open slot in the top. A lucky few had scavenged the odd knee or elbow guard, but none had a set of armor as complete as a Vandal.

As the Captain eyed them up and down, one of them dared to look up from the cold metal floor. He met the Captain's gaze head on, the audacious dreg's eyes burning intensely, unafraid of his superior's watchful eye. Neither one said a thing, but they each knew what the other would say.

They both held the stare for a solid minute, the dim red light that illuminated the transport bay making it all the more intense, as even the other dregs slowly looked up to gawk at the situation, a mix of disbelief and shock washing over their faces. One vandal shifted uncomfortably , raising a lower arm in the disrespectful dreg's direction as he spoke.

"Skell-"

The Captain immediately raised an arm to silence him, and the vandal deflated instantly as the massive eliksni shuffled forwards, toward the dreg. As he neared, the dreg spoke, his voice calm, soft, and surprisingly composed for a Fallen of his caste.

"I'm not going."

The approaching Fallen stopped dead in his tracks, now only a few feet from the dreg. His words had hit him like a slap across the face, like they were an insult. He took another stride forward, one of his lower arms reaching for the grip of the shock blade dangling in its scabbard at his side, the shape of the straight blade reminiscent of a tanto, but much longer. He remained silent, his expression conveyed entirely through his menacing posture, as his burning eyes narrowed at the dreg.

"I refuse to participate in ano-"

The Captain's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the floor and pressing him against the wall forcefully in a split second, the massive eliksni having lunged for the dreg mercilessly. His shock blade came out of its sheath in one fluid motion, raising the crackling blade to the defiant dreg's exposed throat, the dim blue light the arcing electrical field surrounding it gave off revealing that the dreg was sweating profusely, his black skin glistening under the oppressive glow.

"How dare you address me in that bastard language," the Captain said menacingly, in fluent English, mocking Skell in his preferred language.

The others in the transport bay remained deathly still, even the vandals shocked into submission at the ruthless display. All was silent for a few seconds, as the Captain stared into the dreg's eyes, the defiant fool refusing to look away even as the life was choked out of him.

"Very well dreg, if you prefer the language of mongrels, then I see you have chosen well. Halved ether ration. Thirty cycles. No exceptions," the Captain's authoritative, booming voice resounded through the hold as he released his death grip on the dreg, the worthless scum falling to the floor with a metallic thud, gasping for ether. The Captain stomped back over to his former place at the end of the transport bay, his steely gaze glossing over the rest of his crew as he sheathed his shock blade, continuing to speak in the foreign tongue, just to spite Skell, to make his words deadly clear to the oddball dreg.

"Next one to step out of line gets a shock round to the skull."

No one dared argue, the only sound being that of the pathetic dreg's ragged breathing, as he got to his feet. He looked at the Captain, a mix of humiliation and anger burning in his eyes as he settled back into his spot.

The Captain smirked beneath his helmet, motioning with one of his lower arms to allow his crew to continue their conversations.

Chatter filled the room slowly as the other eliksni spoke hesitantly at first, to see if they were being tested, before resuming their conversations in earnest when no response was garnered from the Captain, the guttural, rumbling sound of their native tongue filling the room.

"Skell, you're gonna get yourself killed you moron. We discussed this, you can't - we can't speak this to anyone except each other. It's not safe and there's absolutely no reason to not speak in eliksnian like everyone else," the vandal that had spoken earlier said, his voice a mix of frustration and genuine concern. Skell-Rook glanced over at him, his expression softening as he saw the worried look in his friend's eyes. He turned his head to the ground for a moment, before speaking.

"No, there is," Skell spoke softly, raising a hand to his chest, still looking at the ground. "This isn't who I am, but it is what the eliksni have become. You know what we're doing, you know it's not right Kalnir, and if this is just what we are, as a people, then as far as I'm concerned, I'm not an eliksni anymore."

Kalnir's gaze met Skell's as he looked up from the floor, and the two stared at each other for a moment, before Kalnir sighed in defeat, Skell's impassioned words reverberating within him. Kalnir glanced over to the Captain, who was idly fiddling with the assortment of devices attached to his belt. He looked back at Skell, his voice a near whisper, hoping that the other conversations would mask his words well enough.

"I ... I know. But Skell, you ... " he choked a little trailing off, almost afraid to say it "you can't try and pretend you're something you're not. This is our way of life, its how we survive, Skell. There's no other way for us, no way around it. We're pirates, raiders and scavengers, through and through."

Skell's expression intensified as he looked into Kalnir's eyes, his own burning with a deep hatred at the mention of those repulsive words.

"You and I, we're not evil Kalnir. Even though we've both done wrong in the past, done some pretty brutal stuff to get by, I know, deep down, that it's true. This isn't where we belong."

Kalnir glanced over to the Captain once again, the much larger eliksni still toying with the gadgets on his belt.

"Where are we supposed to go? What are we supposed to do? Hijack a servitor and live happily ever after? You and I both know how it ends if we try and desert. Not only that, but even if they didn't come looking for us, where are we supposed to get ether, huh? I don't even know how the damned things work, but I do know, that the servitors are the only thing capable of producing ether, and as far as I know, Archons and Kells don't go around handing out millennia old relics to just anyone," his voice started as a whisper, steadily rising in volume as Kalnir tried to make it clear to Skell the sheer lunacy he was proposing. Skell's expression faltered underneath his friend's verbal attacks, looking at the floor sheepishly as he continued his rant.

"Look, Skell, I get it, I really do. I want to do what's right too, but I want to have ether in my lungs more. I want to wake up tomorrow more," Kalnir paused for a moment, eyeing Skell up and down noticing Skell's deflated posture.

"Then I guess that's where we differ," Skell shot back sharply, his words tipped with venom, interrupting Kalnir with disregard to manners.

Kalnir stared at Skell, slightly incredulous at his response. Skell had always been a strange friend, but he had never come across as a self righteous martyr, yet there he stood before him, having spoken his piece.

"Yeah , guess so," Kalnir choked out uneasily, unsure of what to think. Though the dropship was filled with the chittering of eliksnian, the silence between the two was tangible as Kalnir awkwardly turned away from Skell, the dreg still staring at the floor, hiding his eyes from view.

Skell muttered something under his breath, looking back up, a strange look in his eyes. A dangerous one. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat, and he remained silent. He glared at Kalnir, shaking his head in disappointment as the Captain's voice filled the room, his fluent English grabbing their attention.

"We're approaching the drop off. You all know the target, you all know there's a chance of Guardian interference. We don't extract until that gate is scrapped, regardless," he said, his commanding voice cutting through the chatter that instantly died down as he spoke. It was clear he still had it out for Skell as his gaze lingered a moment longer on him than any of the other dregs.

The three vandals, Kalnir included, tightened their grip on their shock rifles, while the dregs brandished their shock knives, holding their shock pistols across their chest, save for Skell, who let the weapons hang at his side, almost disgusted with the tools of the trade he had never wanted to be a part of.

Though the Captain was done speaking, the transport bay remained deathly silent in the minutes leading up to the drop. Skell holstered his shock pistol and readjusted the few tattered pieces of teal cloth that signified his allegiance to the House of Winter, but as he did so, he felt a rising urge to simply tear the scraps from himself and be done with the life of a pirate.

If only it were that simple. A lifetime of pillaging and raiding, doing what needed to be done to survive had warped his moral compass, even though he had desperately tried to hold onto the values and teachings of the grand civilization the eliksni had once proudly presided over. He clutched his ragged, hole ridden, teal shawl tightly, his muscles tensing as he shook slightly, preparing to rip it off. He looked down at his trembling hand, and then over to Kalnir, who was eyeing him intently. He shook his head ever so slightly.

Skell knew he was a dead eliksni if he renounced his allegiance to his House, knowing that the Captain would gut him right then and there.

But he didn't care, the dangerous, desperate look in his eyes flaring up as he made up his mind, hesitating for a moment as a seemingly unimportant thought was pushed to the forefront of his train of thought. Kalnir had told him something once. Something that he had carried with him, all this time.

You should always choose a side, even if it's the wrong one.

He hadn't said anything at the time, unsure of whether he was right. But now Skell knew the answer.

He knew Kalnir was wrong.

With an abrupt jerk of his arm and a tearing sound that permeated the entire room, Skell ripped his shawl from himself, holding it beside him for a moment, before letting it flutter to the floor in a heap. The dregs on both sides of him gawked at the display, eyes wide as the shawl hit the floor.

Skell proceeded to scour the rest of himself in a passionate frenzy, tearing loose any strand of cloth or rag with his house colors, and casting them aside as the Captain at the end of the room looked on, unmoving and silent. Kalnir glanced at him, noticing the look in his eyes, the restrained, implacable rage burning in them. He knew what was about to happen, as the Captain's lower right arm reached for the shock pistol holstered at his side, his three armored fingers wrapping around the grip, sealing Skell's fate.

As Skell tore the final piece of colored fabric from himself, the Captain drew his pistol, and in one fluid motion, leveled it at him.

It was at that moment, that the entire front of the dropship erupted into a blazing inferno, as it was torn in half violently. The entire area behind the Captain was gone in an instant, as the terrible explosion rocked the transport bay, taking half of the dropship with it, sending everyone tumbling to the ground, flailing desperately to get a grip on the stability rails overhead.

The Captain's one hand, tightly gripping the rail above him was the only thing that had saved him from being immediately thrown from the transport bay. He struggled as he placed another one of his hands on the rail, the remainder of the dropship now spiraling towards the ground below, thick smoke billowing from the wrecked engines on the side, as blindingly bright bolts of red energy streaked through the air, ripping into the side of the ship with explosive results as a hole was torn in the side of the transport bay. Two dregs were ejected from the transport bay , the hole where they had once been allowing Kalnir to catch a quick glance of them flailing helplessly as they fell alongside a hail of smoking debris.

"Skeellll-Roooookk!!!" the Captain's enraged voice cut through the din as another red bolt tore a hole in the side of the ship, instantly vaporizing the dreg next to Skell where it had punched through. They were rapidly approaching the ground.

Skell, clutching the railing overhead for dear life, shot the Captain a venomous, defiant look, and he returned it with another bellowing roar.

"If the Vex don't kill you, I will!"

The dropship slammed into the ground with a tremendous explosion of rock and dirt, grinding to a halt as smoke billowed off of the twisted mass of wrecked metal, electrical fires raging across the hull as energy bolts continued to tear into it, the whole thing coming to a rest with the front of it buried into the ground.

Skell's blurry vision was marred by black spots as he took stock of his situation, desperately trying to stand as the dreg to his left was blown apart by another energy bolt that ripped through the dropship's ruined hull like it was paper. The wiring and inner workings of the ship had been freed from their compartments by the anti air fire, the holes in the roof and sides of the transport bay revealing a sparking mass of tangled wires and technology, intertwined with valves and pipes that had been torn open, leaking a deep purple, synthetic fluid.

Skell scrambled forwards, towards the section of the transport bay that had been blown apart, glancing over to the three vandals on the opposite wall. Kalnir wasn't moving.

Cursing profusely under his breath, Skell stumbled uneasily over to Kalnir, as the vandal beside him struggled to his feet, before crumpling forward, a sizeable piece of metal shrapnel lodged in his chest, rivulets of violet blood contrasting starkly against his stark white breastplate as he hit the floor with a metallic thud, the light in his eyes darkening, before flickering, and fading to black. Skell had watched the display in horror, before snapping himself back to reality with a thorough shake of his head, springing into action as he threw his shock knife to the ground, before gripping Kalnir with both hands, and looking into his dim eyes.

"Kalnir, c'mon, we gotta go!"

He attempted to get him to move, but Kalnir said nothing, motioning weakly to his ether mask. Skell glanced at the breathing apparatus, and a grim look washed over him almost instantly upon seeing the severed tubes that fed into his mask, spewing precious ether.

Skell released his grip on Kalnir, before dropping to the floor beside the dead vandal, desperately trying to rip his intact mask from him, even as another red energy bolt tore into the side of the ship. He struggled with it for a moment, releasing the metallic clasps on it, before wrenching it free from the dead eliksni, detaching the ether supply tubes, and scrambling to his feet.

In a frenzy of desperate motion, Skell unclasped the damaged apparatus from Kalnir, before thrusting the new one onto his face immediately, connecting the ether tubes to a small cylindrical compartment attached to the armor on his back. With a relieved gasp, Kalnir's eyes instantly brightened as he was able to breathe again.

Skell wasted no time, grabbing Kalnir by one of his arms, and dragging him towards an opening at the front of the wreck. The other remaining dreg had the same idea, and crawled through the opening in a bid for survival, only to be met with a torrent of Vex energy bolts, the red lasers tearing him to shreds, reddish purple blood pooling around the corpse in the seconds afterwards.

Kalnir resisted Skell's grip upon seeing the dreg torn to pieces, breaking free of Skell's grip and falling backwards against the side of the dropship with a thud. He glanced to his right and recoiled instantly, a mixture of shock and fear dancing across his face.

It was the Captain. His eyes had gone dim, his eye slots giving off no light. His dead hands still held the shock pistol that would have ended Skell had things not turned out how they had. Kalnir's eyes darted around the massive eliksni's crumpled form, centering on the jagged, twisted piece of broken metal jutting out of his stomach, shredded pieces of his guts having escaped his body. Violet blood poured from where the Captain had been violently impaled upon impact, pooling around his corpse, staining his teal cloak.

Kalnir's emotions raged against one another, part of him thankful that he wouldn't have to deal with that situation, and part of him scared out of his mind, realizing the dire straits they were in.

"Skell ..." , Kalnir trailed off, his breathing ragged, his voice hoarse and laden with grim acceptance.

"Don't give me that defeatist bullshit right now Kal. You said it yourself, you wanna wake up tomorrow, more than anything else. So then, let's do this," Skell spoke, an aura of determination about him as he outstretched his arm, offering his hand to Kalnir. The vandal looked up, into Skell's blazing, dangerous eyes. He was fairly sure Skell was unabashedly insane, but that very same look harbored a deep desire to survive, to live another day, and that was something he could get behind. Shaking himself out of his grim mindset, and grasping Skell's hand, Kanlnir managed a weak smile as Skell began helping him to his feet.

Another red energy bolt tore through the wreckage at that very moment, piercing the hull on one side, and slamming directly into Kalnir's chest, as he was torn apart in a split second by the explosive blast, his reddish purple blood spattering against Skell as he stood there, frozen in shock for a moment. He was still clutching Kalnir's severed arm.

He let the appendage fall to the ground with a sickly plop, blood pooling around it. This wasn't a battle anymore, if it had ever been one, it was a fight for survival.

Shaking himself out of his dazed stupor, Skell attempted to reason what his next course of action should be, holding back the tidal wave of grief that was slamming against his mental defenses, telling him to give up and mourn the loss of his only friend. He could feel his composure cracking, as his legs gave out, falling to his knees, and slamming his fists into the ground in a fit of grief induced rage. He shook his head momentarily, before taking a deep breath, and attempting to curb his emotions, knowing that the only way he was going to get through this, was by keeping a level head. He had fought the Vex before. Their cold, calculating method of warfare was unforgiving, and entirely detached from emotional impulses. The only way to beat them, was by playing their game, by being just as logical and practical as they were, regardless of how your emotions affected you.

With a newfound resolve, Skell pushed back the torrent of grief momentarily, calming himself as he pounded on his helmet, attempting to spark some genius idea that would get him out of the situation alive, raging against the overwhelming desire to just accept his death, desperately trying to remain as composed as one could be in such a situation. Panicking would only get him killed. He glanced over to the last remaining vandal slumped against the wall, his breathing apparatus broken similarly to Kalnir's, his form unmoving; he had suffocated.

With no better idea of what to do, Skell stumbled over to the two dead vandals in a survival driven stupor. Starting with the one on the floor, he fumbled with their ether supply packs, and detached them, before fastening the small metallic cylinders to his belt. Scanning the area frantically for any others, Skell remembered the Captain, trudging over to the massive corpse with a purpose. He would have smirked upon seeing the defeated eliksni, but given that his friend had just been blown apart, knowing he was probably next, he wasn't in any kind of mood to smile.

He rolled the corpse over, disengaging his much larger, rounded square shaped ether supply compartment, realizing that he'd have to carry it under one of his arms it was so large. He could only guess as to how much of the precious substance it held.

Skell ducked down as another energy bolt tore into the hull of the transport bay, impacting one of the dead vandals, the corpse exploding spectacularly in a shower of gore, before the torrent of laser fire finally ceased. Skell dragged himself into a corner, nestling up beside the Captain's corpse as he attempted to remain deathly still.

He could hear metallic footsteps, methodic and measured, stomping towards him. There must have been at least five of those damned robots closing in. There was no way he would survive a confrontation with that many, even with access to the dead vandals' shock rifles and the Captain's shock blade. He was a decent fighter, but he was no Kell.

With nowhere to run, Skell decided his best option was to hide, quickly scurrying underneath the Captain's massive corpse, propping it up on top of him, and attempting to shrink into the corner of the ruined transport bay, the much larger eliksni's weight nearly crushing him.

The metallic clanking ceased, as a red glow pierced one of the holes in the hull of the dropship. A Vex peered through, its central, red eye scanning the interior with a cold and detached glare, its steely gaze shifting around the room, taking note of the casualties. After a few nerve wracking moments, it centered on the dead Captain, and Skell could feel it looking at him. He tensed up, holding his breath as he attempted to remain still.

The Vex tilted its head quizzically, looking at the corpse intently, before turning away, and sauntering off with the rest of its unit. It was only once the metallic din of their march was but a distant echo that Skell dared to even breathe, gasping for ether as he relaxed his muscles.

"Fuckin ... tin cans ..." he muttered to himself between ragged breaths, as he forced the corpse off of himself, the Captain's body slumping off of him unceremoniously.

Skell sat up against the wall, still clutching the ether storage compartment under one of his arms. His mind was a mess, his thought process completely derailed and racing in a million different directions as he attempted to devise his next course of action. The thought of making a mad dash for eliksnian territory crossed his mind briefly, before he mentally slapped himself for even considering such a thing. He looked down at himself, devoid of his former House colors.

Live or die, there wasn't any going back now.

Quickly discarding that idea, he scurried over to the other side of the ruined transport bay, hesitantly peering out one of the smaller holes in the hull. In the distance, he could see the group of Vex that had come to investigate him, their bronze forms glinting in the early morning light. He glanced around, his eyes darting frantically around the Venusian landscape, searching for, something. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, the only thought in his mind at the moment screaming at him to find anything that might save him.

After a few moments of frantic searching, his gaze centered on a large, circular structure, composed of two circles, the innermost one glowing a bright white, rippling with a strange, otherworldly distortion field. A Vex gateway. From what he had heard, little bits and pieces of rumour spread aboard his House's ketch, that was what allowed the Vex to teleport around. He wasn't sure of all the details, but it stood to reason that if it worked one way, it might work both ways, at least in his mind.

Still, he could only guess as to what might be waiting for him on the other side, if it even worked both ways. He glanced around, noticing a few other Vex patrols striding across the landscape here and there. They weren't everywhere, but there were enough to make him feel nervous enough to duck back into cover. It was only then that he realized his breathing was way out of control, hyperventilating almost, and it took him a few moments to calm himself.

He mulled over his other options, not liking the prospect of being whisked away to a place filled with those things. He could just attempt to run, but as he thought about it more and more, Kalnir's words reverberated in his head clearly, and he sighed, realizing his late friend was right. If the Vex didn't vaporize him, his House would come looking for him, and even if he managed to elude them, he'd run into a Guardian sooner or later, and then it'd be lights out for sure.

Not only that, but regardless of the supply of ether he was hefting around, it would run out sooner or later, and he couldn't exactly just waltz up to any random servitor and ask nicely. He was on the clock; it was only matter of time before the reaper would be calling his name.

Still, Skell refused to submit to the inevitability of his death, even if he knew there was no way around it now. If the reaper was coming for him, he'd have to catch him first. He peeked back through the hole, glancing over at the gate, and watching it with interest, as another group of Vex emerged from the glowing center of it, their arrival coinciding with a sizeable ripple of energy.

As they came, another group went, the damaged and ramshackle group of Vex hobbling towards the portal, before stepping through, accompanied by another temporal ripple. Skell mentally rejoiced at the finding, realizing that he might actually have a decent shot at getting his plan to work. At the very least, he knew that if he could get there, the gate might let him through. The only problem now, was getting there without turning into a cauterized hunk of destroyed flesh.

With a groan Skell ducked back down, and hobbled over to the Captain's corpse, setting down the stolen ether compartment, and setting to work on the body. Most of the Captain's armor was far too large for Skell, but a few pieces, like the arm guards and greaves would do just fine, albeit they were a loose fit. He fastened whatever clean white and tan armor plating he could to himself, whatever would fit him. He made sure none of the armor he took bore his former House's colors, and was thankful that there were still plenty of unmarked pieces, more than enough to salvage a full suit. He even wrenched the maglocked, modular plating off of the corpse's chest plate, and attached them to his own meager breast plate, reinforcing it many times over. He even took the Captain's high capacity magnetic belt, slinging it across his shoulder like a chest strap, the shock blade in its scabbard dangling across his chest, as he placed the large ether compartment on his back, attached to the belt like a backpack. He even pried the shock pistol from the dead eliksni's hands, putting it back in its proper holster, which was now right below the shock blade, across his chest.

After picking his corpse clean, Skell scurried over to the one vandal that had managed to stay mostly intact, his mind briefly wandering to Kalnir, forcing him to fight back a sudden wave of grief as he picked over the body, managing to salvage two shock grenades, and a shock rifle with a rechargeable core. He carried the rifle in one hand, before attaching it to the mag belt above the ether compartment on his back, fastening the stick like grenades to his belt proper around his waist, bringing his supply of grenades up to three, counting the one he had been supplied with prior to the mission. He checked to make sure his own shock pistol was still where he had holstered it, and indeed it had remained in place at his side through all the chaos. He wasn't sure if he'd need all the firepower he was packing, but he certainly felt more confident, armed to the teeth like he was. If Kalnir had been right about anything, it was that they would come looking for him. Skell had a feeling he'd need it all, and more by the time he was done running from death.

Scavenging a few extra pieces of armor from the fallen vandal and slotting whatever supplementary plates he could into place, Skell made sure to take an extra set of arm armor. Archons be damned, no one was going to deprive him of his arms any longer, and as soon as he was in the clear, he was going to pry the infernal metal restraints around his lower set of arms off. He fastened the extra set of armor to the mag belt, carrying it on his back below the ether compartment, before crawling over to a much larger hole in the hull of the dropship, big enough for him to slip through.

He had done all he could to increase his chances of surviving the inevitable hail of energy bolts that would be directed at him. He might be able to shrug off one or two small hits, but if that laser cannon - Cyclops, he believed was its proper name - saw him, he was toast. He peeked out of the rent in the side of the ship, noticing that all of the Vex patrols were scattered and fairly far apart. He searched for a moment, attempting to locate the Cyclops that had blown up his dropship, but cursed under his breath when he couldn't find it. It must have been hidden somewhere, cloaked even. He'd heard some crazy stories about the Vex.

He plotted his route out in his head, making adjustments as he eyed the broken corpses of the other dregs that had been ejected from the dropship while in free fall, more specifically, the ether canisters attached to their back. If his own ether ration was anything to go by, theirs would only last seven cycles each, at best, but it was better than nothing. After all, he didn't know where under the stars he was headed, but he was pretty sure there wouldn't be any ether waiting for him when he got there. He silently mapped out his route, estimating that if he was quick and didn't make any mistakes, it'd take him around ten seconds per dreg to get their ether compartment and run. Discounting the two dregs that had been reduced to ashes, that meant three dregs total, thirty extra seconds added to his mad dash for the gate. That was a lot of extra time for him to get shot in the back.

Still, considering his circumstances, he reasoned that the risk involved was worth it. Fourteen extra cycles was a lot of time. Skell ducked back down , mentally preparing himself for the utter lunacy he was about to attempt. To say it was all a longshot, would be an understatement.

He held his head in his hands, and thought about it for a moment, before realizing he was still wearing his open dreg helmet. While it was reasonably comfortable, it wouldn't stop an energy bolt. He lifted it off of his head, fastening it around his waist, before inching over to the dead vandal he had picked over earlier. Though Skell had ripped his breathing mask from him earlier to save Kalnir, the rest of his helmet was still very much there. He eyed it over for a moment, taking note of the places he would have to attach it to his own ether apparatus. He had never worn such a helmet before.

He lifted the helmet off of the dead vandal, before placing it on himself, almost like a crown, making sure to fasten the clasps and attach it to his mask properly. After a moment of awkward fumbling , Skell was wearing a vandal helmet, his eyes poking through the eye slot. To tell the truth, he rather fancied the little decorative horns near the back. Aesthetics aside, he definitely felt a lot more confident having donned the final piece of protection he was able to salvage. He had done everything he could think of to prepare himself. Even so, doubt gnawed at him, even as he started towards his exit hole.

But Skell stopped dead in his tracks, realizing that even though he would have plenty of ether, relatively anyways, if his breathing mask broke, it'd all be useless. He trudged back over to the dead Captain, wrenching his entire helmet, ether apparatus and all, from his head.

As he popped the helmet free of the eliksni's head, Skell couldn't help but stare into his lightless, dead eyes, mesmerized by them. Skell felt a shiver run down his spine, as he realized, he was looking into the future, staring down at the corpse. No matter what he did, where he ran, he was going to die.

He stood there, helmet held in his hands, looking down at the twisted corpse for a moment longer, before nodding to himself, as he turned his attention to the helmet in his grasp. He ran his thumb along the cool metal ridge right above the eye slot, looking into the dark emptiness within the helmet. In that moment, peering into the hollow piece of armor, he realized that his death had already begun. Even now, breathing shakily, using up his precious supply of ether, he was inching ever closer to the grave.

He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them, and taking one last good look at the empty helmet, his gaze drifting over to the motionless eliksni he had stolen it from. It gave him a strange sense of detachment from the situation, having come to terms with the fact that he was essentially a walking corpse. Without a word, he attached the helmet to his belt, fastening it magnetically, feeling it snap secured.

He was starting to feel weighed down by the various odds and ends he was carrying, but he still felt like he was skimping on supplies. He briefly contemplated attempting to take all five of the dead dregs' ether masks too, just in case, but reasoned it would leave him out in the open far too long. Still, he decided to go with a half measure, as he scurried over to the opening that that one dreg had crawled through earlier, and been promptly shot to pieces.

He got onto his stomach, reaching out as far as he could, and grasped the dreg's leg, before pulling him back inside the wreck. He quickly set to work snatching the small ether compartment off of his back, cursing his luck as he threw the useless, punctured canister aside. Still, the dreg's ether mask was intact, which Skell eagerly separated from him, attaching the mask, along with the supply tubes that accompanied it, to the strap across his chest. He subtracted ten seconds from the extra time he'd have to spend out in the open, eyeing the final two dregs now.

Skell reluctantly trudged towards the rent in the ship's hull, peeking through it to make sure the patrols were still few and far between. Confirming that they were, Skell rolled his shoulders, readjusting the weight on his back as he readied himself. Up until this point, he wasn't entirely sure he would go through with this plan, but now that he was all geared up, standing there, gazing out at the Vex gate, it made him realize that this was it. In that one moment, Skell knew he had chosen his path.

With a lightning quick motion, Skell forced himself through the rent in the the side of the hull, and just like that, he was off. He was sprinting so fast he practically rolled to a stop as he tripped over himself trying to slow down as he came to the first dreg. He frantically fiddled with the eliksni's ether compartment, hastily detaching it from his corpse and attaching to his own chest strap.

As soon as he was done, he was sprinting like a crazed animal once again, and once more, he came to a less than graceful stop at the next dead dreg. He cursed under his breath as he realized this dreg had landed on his back, crushing his ether compartment, before quickly bolting to his feet and racing across the field.

With the gate fast approaching, Skell was starting to feel confident, like his plan might actually turn out alright. The sound of Vex gunfire quickly ended his optimistic streak, as his heart sank into his stomach.

At first he hadn't noticed, but Skell realized in the seconds after the laser fire had started, that it wasn't directed at him, no energy bolts exploding around him like he had expected. A bit further down the field, close to the Vex gate, almost in front of it, a torrent of blinding red energy bolts was bearing down on a Guardian, who was, to be generous to the Vex, slaughtering them wholesale. Deep purple void bolts composed of swirling, malevolent energy arced from the Guardian's hands, smashing into the robots and tearing them limb from limb in a fantastic display of power.

A warlock. Wonderful.

Skell glanced over his shoulder at the patrols further out that were stomping their way back to the gate. He was sure they had seen him by now. Just up and running away from the warlock wasn't an option, even if he didn't have intentions, which he did, on making it through the gate. Still, it felt incredibly stupid running directly towards something that was ripping murderous death machines into pieces, most likely for fun.

Reassuring himself that every option available to him would likely end in his demise, Skell pressed onwards reluctantly, beginning to chuckle slightly under his breath at his situation, every moment, any moment bringing with it the likely possibility of death. There wasn't really anything funny to laugh about, quite the opposite actually, but it helped relieved some of the constant, adrenaline fueled stress building inside of him. Yet his reluctance to continue towards the gate, and the warlock, didn't slow his pace. In fact , it spurred him to run even faster. There was a chance, even if ever so slightly, that the warlock might not see him if he was quick enough.

"Just ... a little ... further ..." he muttered to himself between breaths, pushing himself to the limit as he zoomed past the the embattled warlock in a blur of frenzied motion, the helmets attached loosely to his belt bouncing up and down, clattering against his armor with every step.

He was nearly there, just a few seconds away from the gate now, and the Vex hadn't even touched him. His spirits soared as the glowing white light of the gate blinded him, taking his final few strides forward.

But it was at that moment, that the warlock cast aside the final Vex attacking him, the machine exploding in a burst of void energy. The Guardian reared back with one arm, a ball of crackling, unstable matter forming in the palm of his hand, the writhing mass of energy defying the laws of time and space itself ; a nova bomb. Without a moment of hesitation, he released the bomb, shooting it forward with incredible force, sending it tearing through the air, aimed straight at Skell.

Just as Skell took his first step through the gate, his body becoming engulfed in white light, the nova bomb detonated behind him as he disappeared into the light. The brilliant purple explosion that followed brought the whole gate down, as the massive metal support structure crumbled, falling to the ground in a twisted heap.

Yet something strange happened, even as the last few bits of the physical gate came crashing down. The energy within the gate remained, with one key difference. The once serene, white portal had been warped into a swirling maelstrom of crackling, unpredictable void energy that flickered violently for a moment, before collapsing in on itself with a thunderous roar.

The warlock simply stood there, looking on at the unusual display, his robes fluttering in the wind, his armor glinting in the early morning light. He scratched his helmet, unsure of what had just happened.

A small, white, multi star shaped machine with a central, glowing blue eye materialized beside him, the ghost staring on at where the collapsed portal had been as well. The warlock glanced over to the ghost, shrugging his shoulders, expecting some kind of answer from it. The machine simply turned to the warlock, eyeing him up and down for a moment, before dematerializing, its sarcastic electronic voice echoing across the landscape as the Guardian took his exotic pulse rifle in both hands, turning to face the last few incoming Vex patrols.

"It was obviously magic. A wizard did it."

Skell-Rook was still going full steam ahead when he had entered the portal. In the split second that followed after, a myriad of strange things happened. For starters it hurt like hell. Every fiber of his being screamed in unbearable, sharp agony, as if each and every one of his cells was being stabbed, destroyed on a molecular level. He squeezed his eyes shut in response, gritting his teeth beneath his ether mask as a sudden burst of brilliant purple light exploded all around him. Indeed, it was so blindingly bright he could somewhat see the sudden explosion of color through his eyelids, as the pain receded momentarily.

His eyes shot open and were instantly assaulted by the iridescent mass of shifting void stuff that was swirling and exploding all around him, as he drifted through a black void that stretched on into eternity, feeling no ground beneath his feet. A landscape exploded into existence around him for a split second, the unmistakable metal structures of the Vex jutting out from the lush landscape, their seemingly nonsensical architecture standing out against the overgrown fields, their twisted and oddly shaped exteriors reflecting the Sun's light magnificently.

The entire scene dissolved right before his very eyes not a moment later, the landscape before him flickering for a moment, like a faulty projection, before disintegrating back into a writhing mass of black and purple void energy. He was back, drifting through an endless void once again, the ear drum shattering detonations of unstable matter his only companion as dozens of explosions erupted around him in a vibrant, awesome display of void energies.

It was almost beautiful, in its own strange way, were it not for the fact that the intensity of each burst of light blinded him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. As he clenched his eyes shut, the pain returned, with a vengeance. His entire being screeched in agony as he let loose a guttural roar of incomprehensible pain. It was the kind of all encompassing, indescribable pain that would warrant death, yet even though Skell-Rook was pleading, begging for the pain to stop, the sweet release of death was dangled before him, teasing him, before being yanked away harshly as the void around him dispersed, the ethereal darkness giving way to a more natural one.

The deep, penetrating pain subsided instantly, and was quickly replaced by a more familiar one as Skell smashed into something, face first, before collapsing into a heap on the ground with a weighty thud that echoed through the air. Apparently he had carried his momentum through to the other side.

He remained in a twisted pile on the floor, his instincts telling him to move, but the jarring, blunt pain in his head barking at him to stay down. He rubbed his helmet pointlessly, hoping to relieve some of the aching pain. At the very least, the soul destroying agony that had nearly strangled him into submission not moments ago had receded, but his entire body was still sore from the experience. Even raising his hand to rub his helmet ached, his muscles screaming at him to remain still. Skell was starting to think there was a very good reason only robots went in and out of Vex gates.

He stared off into space, looking at the dark, black ceiling just a few feet overhead, blinking a few times just to confirm his suspicions as his blurry vision cleared up. His world was tinted a light blue; he was in total darkness, but at least he could see, thanks to the eliksni's inherent low-light vision. He shifted his other arm slightly, running his palm along the cold, rough ground. Stone of some sort, he figured, turning his head to stare down at the blackened floor. It took him a moment to put two and two together, but after blinking a few times, Skell realized he must have landed in a cave of some description.

Skell cautiously sat up, groaning in pain as he did so. He would most likely be sore for the next few cycles, but he fought through the pain as he looked around, realizing he was in a tunnel of some kind, silently celebrating his escape with a weak smile upon realizing that no Vex were in sight. He didn't count out the idea that they might be lurking somewhere in the tunnel, but for now, he felt safe, the only sound he could hear being that of his own ragged breathing as he fought to bring the pace of it down.

He had landed sideways in the tunnel, slamming into one of the side walls, so that the path to his left was what he assumed was forward, and the path to his right was backward. He couldn't know for sure, but his guess was all he had to go on at the moment. After taking another few moments to orient himself, Skell sunk back down to the floor, the tunnel so narrow that he had to bend his legs to fit, and even then, his neck was pressed up against the opposite wall awkwardly. He supposed he hadn't really noticed how uncomfortable the position was at first, having been overwhelmed at the sudden relief from the intense pain that had plagued him earlier, along with the fresh wave of pain that came from smashing headfirst into a stone wall.

Skell sat back up almost immediately, sitting with his legs crossed as he reoriented himself to face the path to his left. It was around this time that his higher functions were starting to come back to him, and he began to question what under the stars had just happened. He glanced over his shoulder at the stretch of tunnel now behind him, unable to find anything out of the ordinary. It was just a roughly carved out, narrow tunnel devoid of any kind of identifying features.

He turned his head back to face the front, his mind wandering back to the fact that no Vex were in sight, nor could he hear them. With the way him slamming his head into the wall had resounded through the tunnel, he was fairly sure he'd have been able to hear the unmistakable clomp of metal feet a mile away. He held his breath for a moment, straining his hearing to pick up on anything that might give him a clue as to where he had ended up, but sighed a few moments later as the darkened tunnel remained eerily silent.

So he was in a pitch black tunnel, alone presumably; that was about the extent to which Skell could figure his situation out at the moment. He remained sitting for a few more moments, allowing his aching body to rest for the time being, multiple thoughts racing through his head, each one presenting a new question. He mulled over the multitude of questions he had, unable to answer most of them, but was genuinely stumped, and rather worried, about one in particular.

Where had the Vex gate gone?

He was no scientist, and knew about as much about the enigmatic Vex as anyone else, but he had figured that if he went through a gate, he'd come out of one too. Instead, he had just been spat out in some random location so far as he could tell, with no portal, or even any Vex in sight. Not that he was complaining, an empty tunnel in the middle of nowhere was far and away preferable to anywhere the Vex had set up.

Resolving to worry about the details of his situation later, Skell forced himself to his feet, struggling to stand at first before finding his footing. It wouldn't be easy to walk, but he couldn't just sit there forever, so with a grunt of exertion, he began to hobble forward uneasily, the deep soreness that plagued him stifling his movement, each step forward rigid and forced.

As he walked, he took stock of his gear, first checking to make sure all of the ether rations he had taken had survived the journey, including the large ether canister he was carrying on his back. He was pleased to find that they had all stayed in place, and none of them had been damaged to the point of being useless, just the odd dent here and there. After checking his ether supply, he ran a hand along his belt, finding that all of his grenades, and his pistol had stayed secure. Reaching behind him with one arm, he was relieved to find that the extra set of arm guards he had packed had survived the trip. He could still feel the metal restraints on the useless stubs that were his lower set of arms, and shuddered as he remembered the kind of pain he had endured the last time he had attempted to pry them off. Still after his recent ... experience, he was almost sure he could bear through it this time.

A brief moment later, as Skell finished checking his provisions by reaching behind him to check that his shock rifle was still in place above the large ether canister, he came to an abrupt bend in the tunnel, veering to the right. He could feel the shift in slope as he proceeded down the stretch of tunnel, sure that he was descending deeper into the ground now. It didn't bother him all that much though, just glad to have survived his unfortunate encounter. He figured that if he just kept going in one direction, he'd end up above ground eventually, and if not, he didn't mind retracing his steps and heading the other way, even if his aching body begged to differ.

Letting his mind wander for a moment as he continued down the lightless tunnel, every one of his steps echoing into the darkness around him, Skell began adding up all of the ether rations he had managed to bring with him. Each ration was designed to allow the respective caste of eliksni to operate in intense conditions for seven cycles, but larger eliksni, like vandals and captains, were given more to support their larger physiology, and to allow them to grow even larger.

Taking this into account, and recalling that vandals were around twice as large as dregs, and captains nearly four times as large, he began to calculate how long the ether he had hauled would last, figuring that if a vandal was twice as large, a ration from one would last twice as long.

Two dreg canisters, including own, plus two vandal rations and a captain ration meant he had around ... 42 cycles, plus however long the captain ration would last him. He didn't know exactly how much the hefty canister held, but he had a pretty good guess. Dreg rations would last him seven cycles, vandals, 14, so it stood to reason that if each rank, the ether ration was doubled, the captain's ration would add another 28 cycles to his 42, bringing the grand total of time before he would suffocate to death, up to 70 cycles.

"Woo ..." he muttered under his breath in a deflated tone, his raspy voice lingering for a few moments after as the sound waves bounced around inside the tunnel.

He stopped dead in his tracks as a foreign sound assaulted him, snapping him out of his contemplative stupor. Just as his grimly sarcastic cheer of triumph faded away, a sharp scraping sound echoed down the tunnel. So engaged in estimating the day of his certain death, Skell hadn't even noticed that he had come to another bend in the tunnel, this one veering off the right sharply. The scraping sound resounded through the air once more, prompting Skell to press himself up against a wall, reaching for his shock pistol as he poked his head around the corner to see what was causing the noise.

Skell had seen a lot of stuff in his time as a - reluctant as he was to say it - as a pirate, but the shifting figure just a few dozen feet down the hall was unlike anything he had encountered before. It was facing away from him, and it stood upright, but hunched over, on two squat legs as it dragged its massive claws along the wall alongside it, its meaty, muscled arms nearly the size of Skell's torso. It was hard to make out, but from where he was, Skell could tell that it was covered in a short grey coat of matted, unkempt fur. It even had a short, bulbous tail that appeared to be covered in fur as well, and had fleshy, bony spikes protruding out of it, the little tail wagging back and forth lazily as the creature went. His eyes darted around the backside of the being, taking note of the only two scraps of clothing it was wearing, a brown jacket of some sort, along with a bejeweled collar fastened around its neck. His gaze drifted to the side pockets of the jacket, stuffed to the brim, practically overflowing with glimmering gemstones of varying colors.

Skell drew his shock pistol, just in case, but as he wrestled the gun free of its holster, his plated arm clattered against the side of the wall. The figure's ears instantly perked up, standing at attention like a dog's, as it shifted and began to turn, letting its clawed hand fall from where it was dragging it along the wall.

Cursing under his breath for being a damned clumsy idiot, Skell ducked back behind the wall, the pace of his breathing picking up as he could hear the beast plodding back down the tunnel towards him. Its footsteps were heavy, and determined, each one punishing the stone beneath its feet.

Skell wasn't scared, just nervous. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself of as the footsteps neared, stopping just short of rounding the corner. He was pressed up against the wall as tight as possible, pistol held in one hand, hoping to somehow melt away into the shadows.

A muzzle poked around the corner, just below Skell's head, the canine snout sniffing the air heartily for a few moments, its glistening, black nose catching Skell's eye as he slowly positioned his arm, aiming the pistol at where he estimated the beast's head would appear when it rounded the corner.

The canine snout disappeared back around the corner, taking one final sniff before doing so. Skell waited, and waited, his finger trembling against the trigger of his gun, ready to fire the moment the beast came around the corner.

But it never did. Seconds stretched into minutes, and Skell was unable to tear himself away from looking at the corner expectantly. It was only when he suddenly felt something on his neck, someone breathing on him, that he whirred around frantically.

He was suddenly staring into two feral, yellow tinted eyes, as it exhaled another puff of hot, foul smelling breath into his face from its agape maw, filled with massive, dagger like teeth dripping with saliva.

"How th-"

Skell started in surprise, before being interrupted by a sharp blow to the back of his head from something behind him. His already weak body surrendered in defeat as the sudden wave of crackling pain in his head buckled his unsteady legs. He fell backwards, hitting the ground with a metallic thud as he stared up at two canine faces, just barely able to make them out through his darkening, blue tinted, blurred vision. They said something, he was sure of it, since their mouths were moving, but it all came out a jumbled mess to him, his ears still ringing as he fought to remain conscious.

It was a battle he knew he couldn't win, as he felt himself slipping, his eyes dimming, as they closed. He could feel his grip on his shock pistol loosening, as his mind began to fade away into unconsciousness , the glowing yellow eyes of the canine creatures burning themselves into his memory in the moments before he succumbed to darkness.

With a final, pained gasp, Skell-Rook drifted into unconsciousness.

Author's Note

So yeah, here we are, at the end of the first chapter of a story that hit me like a slap in the face a few days ago. It was an idea that I got after playing some Destiny with my cousin, can't say I'm a huge fan, but the lore behind Fallen, or eliksni dregs piqued my interest, and here we are just shy of ten thousand words later.

Any critique, comments, questions, or compliments are welcome, you can even go ahead and diss my work if you're not a fan. Just please, let's keep it civil, and let's keep it constructive. Regardless, thank you for your time, and I hope I've piqued your interest and made the read enjoyable.

I Am The Captain Of My Soul

"Oh! Shhh, shhh, its waking up. Look."

Skell's hearing was the first thing to return to him, the soft melody of a feminine voice rousing him from his forced slumber. He understood what they were saying, but it went in one ear, and out the other as he immediately forgot that someone had even spoken, his damaged, distorted thought process attempting to straighten itself out as he awoke. He could feel his senses coming back to him, his mind reestablishing itself. He wished it hadn't. The deep, aching pain coursing throughout his entire body was the first, and most intense sensation he felt as he blinked groggily, noticing that his vision was still tinted blue. He swore the kind of unrestrained soreness he was experiencing was a curse of some kind, it had to be, a terribly sharp pain shooting through his enfeebled arm as he attempted to push himself off the ground from where he was laying.

He had his eyes open the entire time, but he had been staring off into space for the first few seconds of consciousness,. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he appeared to be situated near the end of a large, relatively speaking, tunnel chamber, devoid of any kind of markings or objects. The pain wracking his body had demanded his full attention, until now, finally realizing what was directly in front of him, his eyes widening, the light they gave off flaring up in a mixture of surprise, fear, and shock, as he froze while in the process of attempting to sit up, his weak arms propping him up slightly, resting on his elbows.

Skell was surrounded, five sets of glowing yellow eyes all trained directly on him, each pair belonging to one of the beasts in front of him, towering over him from his spot on the tunnel floor. He didn't stare at any single one, his eyes instead bugging out as they darted frantically between all of the canine creatures, trying to take the situation in without panicking. He was fighting hard to keep his emotions down, to keep himself collected, though he flinched more than he should have, when one of them, the one to the far left of him, shifted slightly, inching closer to him.

In response, Skell attempted to just scoot backwards a few inches, but instead found himself scrambling away from the mob of mutts, only stopping once he found his back pressed to a wall. Perhaps he wasn't as calm as he thought he was.

"Geez Baxter, what'd you do to it? It's as frightened as a cornered animal," The central creature said, looking at the canine beast to Skell's far left, speaking in a masculine, commanding, yet somehow gentle voice that radiated an aura of kindness as well. Skell , reluctant as he was to admit it, agreed with what the creature had said, he was frightened.

Wait ... what?

It was around this time that Skell's logical mind ceased to function, as he registered the fact that he understood each and every word the creature was saying, his mouth hanging agape beneath his ether mask. To say he was surprised they could speak english would be an understatement. He had always known that it was one of the more popular and pervasive languages in the galaxy, and he had assumed these beasts were at least intelligent enough to have a language of their own, he just hadn't expected it to be the same one as his adopted tongue.

Even so, upon hearing the recognizable language, Skell's muscles relaxed slightly, relieved that at the very least, he would be able to communicate with them. After all, there was no way he was going to be able to fight his way out of his predicament, even if he didn't feel like he had just been put through a meat grinder without being physically torn apart, so that left him with only two options: run like hell, or hope he was charismatic enough to charm them into not killing him. He had a very good feeling that no matter which option he went with, he was going to die exhausted and out of breath.

But something occurred to him, as he lay there, his hazy and scattered mind wrenching a recent memory to the forefront of his train of thought, suddenly remembering, or perhaps truly appreciating how he had gotten here. The tunnel, the beast, his stupid holster refusing to let go of his shock pistol, and the inexplicable mutt that had somehow crept up behind him, allowing the other one to knock him out cold. It sparked a chain reaction of thoughts in his mind, most of them nonsensical and useless, some of them driven by anger, others by shame, but one stood out among the crowd, the singular idea resonating within him, both reassuring him, and frightening him.

He had been spared. For whatever reason, they hadn't killed him, and even though Skell didn't know exactly what that reason was, it gave him a sense of confidence, as he relaxed his muscles, the thought that he might actually live through this becoming a possibility. But he was still scared, frightened enough at the prospect of knowing why they hadn't just gutted him, that he could feel himself shaking slightly. Skell's blood frosted over in his veins as he mentally berated himself for losing control of his emotions, the rising fear inside of him gripping him tightly as another one of the creatures spoke.

"I didn't do nothin' to it, it was Buster that whacked it upside the head," another one of them spoke, his voice much deeper and more rumbling than the mutt that had spoken before him, his gravelly voice assaulting Skell's ears like sandpaper. This one was Baxter, Skell figured. Baxter glared at the dog next to him, most likely Buster, Skell thought. He mentally patted himself on the back for still having the capacity to infer something so painfully obvious. After having been smashed on the back of the head, and slamming face first into a stone wall, Skell was fairly sure he had lost some brain cells somewhere in there.

The dog next to Baxter returned the glare, holding up one clawed hand, or paw, as it were, opening his mouth to say something, before pausing, and sighing, turning away from Baxter sheepishly.

"Yeah, he's telling the truth," the mutt who Skell presumed was Buster said, his voice very similar to Baxter's, save for the hint of shame in his tone. Skell's eyes darted back and forth between the two, noticing that they shared the same silvery grey fur as well, along with the fact that they were each roughly the same size, which is to say noticeably larger than the other three creatures Skell could see out of the corner of his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat quickening as he turned his head ever so slightly, flicking his eyes in their direction just to confirm his suspicions, immediately turning back to looking at Baxter upon seeing that they were indeed still observing him intently.

"For the millionth time, you can't go around attacking every random soul that happens to get lost down here. C'mon Buster, we've talked about this," the central dog beast replied, motioning with his paws at Buster to emphasize his point.

"It's not his fault Winston, he's just wound up from last week's raid. You know he's only trying to keep us safe," a soft, feminine voice cut in. That word, raid. It stung Skell, but at the same time he could feel something inside of him, beginning to assert itself. He pushed the feeling aside for the moment, Skell's eyes darting over to her briefly, before following her gaze to the dog she was speaking to, as Skell identified, or at least took a guess that the one she was looking at, was Winston. Yet there was something strange about her voice, a kind of unplaceable power and authority behind it that both intrigued and frightened Skell. His eyes wandered back over to her, hesitantly at first , but managing to keep his eyes locked onto her as she continued, her gaze shifting to Buster - or was it Baxter? They both looked so similar.

"It's all right Buster, you didn't do nothin' wrong, but ya've still gotta apologize to ..." she trailed off, turning her head to Skell. He could feel the ice in his veins freezing him solid as he met eyes with her, staring deeply into her emerald irises. "... to uh, our friend here," she managed to find the words to finish her sentence, gesturing to Skell with a paw.

Friend? Skell wasn't sure how to feel about that word, part of him sighing in relief, confident that they weren't going to kill him after having used such a term. But another part of him, a much darker, insidious piece of him was telling him something else entirely. Skell had done a lot of bad things in his time, and even though he had always known they were wrong, he had still followed through with them, for one reason or another. Perhaps he was more like Kalnir more than he was willing to admit. He couldn't lie to himself about it though, he knew exactly what the other part of himself was.

It was his brutal, sadistic, by any means necessary side. His experienced, piratical instincts whispering into his ear.

Kill them. They won't expect it. Look down at your belt.

Skell was fighting hard to try and tune out his instincts, beginning to sweat visibly as he refused to give into whatever twisted plan he was cooking up, deep inside his mind. But he couldn't just ignore what his instincts were telling him. They were a part of him, just like any other, and within the moment, he found himself glancing down at his belt, swallowing hard at what he saw.

They hadn't taken any of his gear, not even his weapons. There, still magnetically hooked around his waist, were the three shock grenades he had scavenged.

See? You know what to do.

"Fuck ..." Skell muttered under his breath, so softly that he was sure no one else could hear him, his instincts raging against his supposed moral boundaries, his face scrunching up as he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold out against,well, himself. He wasn't ready to believe that these creatures trusted him in any way, figuring that they hadn't taken any of his gear because they didn't understand what any of the stuff he was carrying was, but even that path of reasoning had its flaws. If these five were truly out to harm or kill him, they would have at the very least, picked through his supplies, taken his weapons, even if they didn't know what they were taking. Hell, he'd have likely been dead by now had they done that, if they had taken his active ether canister or mask. Not only that, but he knew that the holes he was poking in his own logic were true. There had been many times in his life where had scavenged something he had absolutely no inkling as to what it did, simply because it looked like it might be useful or valuable.

He ripped himself away from looking at the tempting explosives, terrible, doubtful thoughts creeping into his mind. What if they had just said he was their friend to get him to relax, so that once they were ready to kill him, he wouldn't expect it? It wouldn't have been the first time he'd have witnessed something like it, luring an enemy into a false sense of security, before stabbing them in the back when they least expect it.

One of the dogs, Buster Skell identified him as, stepped forward, spurred on by the female of the group motioning him to do so. The sudden shuffling noise of Buster's clawed feet against the stone floor roused Skell from his internal battle, but he could still feel it raging inside himself as the dog began to speak.

"I'm ... sorgmmn," Buster said, his words trailing off into nonsense, his face turned away from Skell.

"I don't think it can hear you Buster, better speak up," the female beast said, walking up behind Buster, and gripping the much larger dog by the back of the neck, forcing him to look directly at Skell. He could see her claws digging into the flesh beneath his fur slightly.

"Alright, fine! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Buster yelped, his companion's claws letting up as he did so.

"There we go," she said, pleased with herself, before turning to look directly at Skell again. They locked eyes once more, and again, Skell could feel the tension in the air as she sauntered towards him. Those emerald eyes of hers pierced Skell , cutting into him and penetrating his mental defenses deeply, as he could feel his breathing picking up.

But that wasn't what worried him, no, he had long ago admitted to his fear of the situation, and by extension, the creature slowly approaching him. What concerned him, was what he was doing. He swallowed hard, his left arm descending ever so slowly to his belt, his fingers wrapping around the grip of the stick shaped grenade, feeling the cool metal on his skin, as his thumb drifted over to the circular activation button, hovering over it.

You better be to ready to bolt once that thing is armed, else you're getting a nice electrocution scar. Remember, don't take any chances, shoot em' once they're down, just to be sure. No survivors.

The dog stopped a few inches short of him, her lean form towering over him, forcing him to crane his neck up to maintain eye contact with her. She was an intimidating sight, but Skell dared not look away from her, for fear of what might happen. He managed to calm himself down slightly, enough so that he could take in her appearance. Her cream colored coat wasn't quite as unkempt as the others, but it was messy and ruffled in more than a few places. She was wearing a dented and scarred, multi-layered metal breastplate that covered her entire midsection, the armor plating going down as far as her waist, where a hefty, pocketed leather belt was fastened. Her legs and arms were similarly encased in overlapping plates of red metal, the multiple, flexible plates clanking against one another as she knelt down, bringing her face to face with Skell, her muzzle only inches from him now.

His thumb was on the activation button.

One good punch , right side, then shove the grenade into that little gap in her armor, right below her neck, and clear out. She'll fry like a pig, and so will the rest of them.

"Hey there fella," she spoke, her warm voice washing over him, thawing his ice filled veins. "I know we didn't exactly start off on the right foot, heh, but uh, we ain't gonna hurt cha." Skell looked into her eyes, staring at her, long and hard, sensing the underlying compassion, the empathy within them. Skell had never been very good at calling liars on their bullshit, and over time he had developed a bad habit of just defaulting to not trusting anyone, but there was something in her tone, in her her relaxed , friendly posture. Something genuine.

She stretched a paw out to him, slowly, and with her claws retracted as she spoke, her padded palms not covered by her open gauntlets.

"Name's Dakota. Pleased to meet cha."

Skell tore his gaze from her mesmerizing eyes, long enough to look at her open paw, waiting for him to take hold. His right arm twitched for a moment, the muscles tensing up, preparing to enact his plan, his other thumb ready to prime the grenade.

His arm shot up, taking her much larger paw in his own hand.

Don't say ...

Skell felt a slight smile creeping across his face, as she grinned eagerly, shaking his hand heartily, while his other hand slipped away from the grenade around his belt.

... I didn't warn you.

Skell had been struggling against his instincts the entire time, fighting hard to try and silence the very thing that had seen him through time and time again. He didn't have to be friends with them, didn't even have to like them, all he had wanted to do was give them a chance, seeing as they'd done the same for him, but he couldn't do it without first taking control of himself.

It felt wrong on a primal level, as he forced his instincts into submission with a final burst of willpower. Yet at the same time, he felt the kind of euphoric relief that only came from one conquering one's inner demons. But he knew they'd be back soon enough.

Shaking the final, lingering thoughts from his mind, Skell wrangled control of his breathing, as Dakota finished shaking hands, standing up as she did so, still gripping his own, forcing him to his feet with her. He groaned at the painful stiffness that still held sway over his aching body as he stood, Dakota releasing him from her grip, and smiling at him warmly. He hadn't noticed it at first, but as he stood there, looking on at her, Skell noticed that she had a slight under bite, her lower canines a bit bigger than what he had expected, her lips contoured to the jagged outline of her teeth, but still loose like a dog's. It created a strange effect, where he could tell she was smiling, able to see her lips curved upwards, and tell that her teeth were locked together, without actually seeing her teeth.

If he was being honest though, he found it somewhat endearing, his initial trepidations melting away under her reassuring gaze, able to sense the genuine kindness about her. The very same emerald eyes that had paralyzed him in fear, now egged him onwards, giving him enough confidence to look at her directly, he as cleared his throat, and spoke.

"S-Skell. I-I'm Skell," he said, stuttering slightly as his raspy voice filled the air. He could just feel the charisma oozing from every one of his shaky, unsure words.

Dakota plodded over to him, draping an arm across his back, and pulling him in close.

"Phew, I wasn't sure what we were sayin' was gettin' through to ya, but I'm glad to hear that it did. I just wanna say again, we're mighty sorry for uh, y'know, attacking ya and all," she said, her voice soothing him, bolstering his confidence as her other arm wrapped around him, lifting him off the ground, in her tight grip. Skell was fairly sure he had just signed his own death warrant as he felt the ether being forced from his lungs, his feet lifting off the ground caught her incredible grip as she brought him closer to her own face, to her waiting jaws, ready to tear into his neck. He squirmed uncomfortably, fighting to wrestle himself free, all while knowing that there was zero chance he was going to be able to break free from her powerful arms. This was it, crushed to death by a deceptively friendly dog beast named Dakota.

Honestly not the worst way to go out from what he'd seen, but Skell still hated the fact that he had survived the freakin' Vex, only to be finished off by some anthropomorphic mutt that he couldn't even place, despite his knowledge of numerous species. He closed his eyes, letting his limbs go limp as her hot breath washed over his face. He had been far too optimistic to think that he could make it all 70 cycles. He couldn't even last one ... Kalnir had been right, Skell was out of his goddamned mind. He resigned himself to his fate, ready to savor his final experience. He had always wondered what death felt like anyways.

A scant moment later, the skin on his face was tingling pleasantly as he was engulfed in a raw wave of warmth that enveloped him in a blanket of good will. He forced his eyes open, incredulous at what was taking place before him. She was brushing her fuzzy face up against his, the little tuft of hair right above her eyes tickling the little bit of skin that showed through his helmet.

Was she ... hugging him? Hugging an eliksni? Apparently, the grim reaper would have to take a rain check, because there was no denying it, as Dakota nuzzled into him, that he was indeed being hugged. He hardly knew the word, or what it meant, but he had managed to wrench a distant memory free from the darkness clouding his mind, remembering having read about the show of affection in a human text he had come across in his travels.

She was warm, in every sense of the word, her soft fur radiating heat, her buttery voice relaxing Skell. He was at a loss for what to do, suspended in the air by the noticeably larger Dakota, having only just met her moments ago. He was confused, unable to put a label on the tingling sensation he was experiencing, only knowing that it felt strangely enjoyable, to be held by someone else. But it was a startling experience nonetheless, Skell unsure of what to make of the confusing whirlwind of swirling emotions within himself, unable to recall feeling anything like it before.

Come to think of it, he couldn't remember a time when anyone had hugged him, not even as a child, his winding, foggy memory failing to present him with any examples of reciprocal kindness. He had never imagined that anyone would spare, much less hug an eliksni. Among his own race, it was simply unheard of, punishable by death even. Among others ... well his species, they were hated, feared and reviled across the galaxy as butchers and merciless raiders. Not exactly the type to warrant a hug from anyone.

Yet there he was, overwhelmed by the strange mix of emotions beginning to bubble to the surface, an unfamiliar wetness forming in his eyes as the dam holding back his flood of emotions began to break.

He had spent his entire life, learning that the only useful emotion was rage, and even then, it wasn't useful if you couldn't channel it into battle fury, for it would destroy you if you let it control you. He had always disagreed with such a philosophy, but it had always been hard for him to truly believe himself, having known nothing but shame, humiliation, and anger throughout his entire life, which made the experience all the stranger.

He felt something, deep inside him, a growing, intangible warmth that burned fiercely. His heart hurt, the painful sensation concentrated in his chest stabbing him sharply, as he continued to try and suppress his emotions, to attempt to hold onto the doctrines and teachings that had kept him alive all this time. But there was something more to this emotion he was experiencing, unable to give it a name, having never felt its overwhelming, pleasant sensation within his heart. It was so much stronger than anything he had ever felt before, and it was impossible for him to remain steadfast against it, the powerful emotion smashing his resolve to pieces, crushing the dam that was holding back all of his feelings, as it slipped into his heart.

What came in the split second afterwards, could only be described as unbridled terror. What was happening to him?!? His chest tightened, his breathing intensified, and his entire body tingled, the aching pain subsiding for a few moments as the intensely pleasurable torrent of emotions swept through him, Skell frightened by the sensation that came with it, having never felt this way in his whole life, until now.

Here he was, on the verge of - tears, yes that's what the moisture in his eyes was called. It had been so long since the word had crossed his mind, so long since he had felt the sensation. They had beaten him to a pulp the last time they had caught him crying, told him that it was a useless function that served only to weaken one's resolve.

They had threatened to kill him on his next offense. He hadn't cried since.

But now he knew. Knew that they were wrong, as he felt a drop of moisture roll down his cheek, the cathartic sensation that he was experiencing gripping him tightly, and that combined with Dakota's soft fur on his skin, the comforting aura that surrounded her, finally allowing him to let go for a moment, to allow himself to experience the tide of unknown emotions raging inside of him, as another tear rolled down his cheek, and into the lower part of the inside of his helmet.

He had always tried to suppress his emotions, like he had been taught, and for a long time, he had agreed with the practice, the only emotions ever being experienced having been negative ones, and so it made sense to suppress them, to hide his pain. Skell was at a loss for what to call the current blend of emotions, raging inside of him, but he didn't care, even though he was confused, frightened even by the alien sensation coursing through his body.

All he knew, was that it felt good, so much so that this single moment, this one experience, was undoubtedly the best he had ever felt in his entire life, and even though he hardly knew Dakota, it didn't matter. He didn't care who she was, or whether he'd be dead in a few moments for ignoring his instincts and teachings. All he needed from her, was for her to continue holding him, to let the feelings inside of him continue to confuse, and comfort him.

He was still scared out of his mind though, so very frightened by the emotions he was experiencing, the strange, indescribable feeling of warmth that accompanied them lulling him into submission, telling him to stay right where he was, to continue feeling what he felt.

At this point, Skell was too deeply absorbed by the confusing cavalcade of his cascading emotions to really worry about getting offed, and even if he did care about dying now, he would gladly trade away the 70 cycles he probably wouldn't even live through to continue experiencing Dakota's overwhelming warmth. If he was going to die, he was going to die, no two ways about it, and now would be the perfect time for Dakota to squeeze the life out of him if she wanted to.

But Skell would only ever have one first hug, and he'd be damned if he'd let it go to waste, worrying about such petty nuisances as death, especially if this was to be his last hug as well. If he died, at least he'd die knowing that for a moment, however brief, he felt at peace with himself. To die having experienced a wider range of feelings, to know that there was a world of positive emotions out there, waiting for him. Casting aside his doubts, and just saying, to hell with it, Skell returned the hug as best he could, his arms groaning in protest, unable to fully wrap around her broad midsection, but the thought was there, as another droplet of moisture glided across his face.

"Dakota you gotta stop hugging the intruders, its-" one of the other mutts started, Skell recognizing it as Winston's voice.

"Unprofessional? Dangerous? Oh please, spare me the lecture Winston. You saw for yourself the last time someone tried something, that I can handle whatever I choose to hug. I practically bit that arrogant minotaur's head off in one bite," she said, slightly annoyed at Winston.

Skell suddenly felt less comfortable around Dakota, his damp eyes sweeping across her teeth as she spoke, his train of thought absentmindedly derailing, searching for the meaning and imagery associated with that word, minotaur, before a terrible realization crossed his mind. Minotaurs were Vex. Heavily armored, twelve foot tall constructs. He had only seen one, and only once before. Four vandals went down trying to take it out, and even then, they had only damaged it. Skell shuddered, realizing that he might not have escaped the Vex after all, leaving him to wonder how in the world she had taken a bite out it's metal head, with her teeth.

He swallowed hard as she put him down, both disappointed as her warmth left him, and relieved that he wasn't as close to her powerful, metal crushing jaws, all while his mind raced at the prospect of having to put up against the Vex, alone this time. Skell was starting to wonder if he would ever have any strictly enjoyable experiences, the bittersweet, or downright sour mix of emotions within him never seeming to subside to give way to purely good ones. Still, he took the experience for what it was worth, smiling slightly as he swept his arms behind him, checking to make sure she hadn't crushed his ether canister, relieved upon finding that she hadn't. His hands idly wandered, checking the rest of his gear, and finding that it was all still in its place, save for the shock pistol he had dropped. He didn't much mind honestly, resolving to simply enjoy the moment, and inquire about it later.

At the very least, for the first time in a very long while, Skell continued to smile slightly underneath his helmet, the positive feelings inside of him outweighing the negative, the sensation of Dakota's velvety fur on his skin lingering long after they had finished hugging. He knew, deep down, that it had merely been her way of greeting him, of apologizing for Buster's actions. He knew that she didn't actually care about him, but he didn't pay attention to that fact. He had experienced something wonderful, something terrifying and awesome , and he refused to let that go, feeling a connection, however misguided or nonexistent, between them. He would never be able to thank her enough.

"Alright, fine, I suppose that's fair enough," Winston replied, conceding to her, before muttering something just loud enough for Skell to hear , " still took me three days to wash his blood out of my fur though ..."

Wait, blood? Skell knew the Vex had some sort of biomechanical fluid contained within their chests, but blood? He had never heard anyone use the term to describe the milky white substance. It couldn't be the Vex, at least the way he saw it, but it wasn't entirely out of the ballpark that it might be them after all. For the time being, Skell decided that they weren't referencing the Vex, pushing the worrying thought from his mind, and attempting to cling to the last fleeting bits of Dakota's warmth lingering about him.

Skell breathed a sigh of relief, resolving to ask them exactly what they meant by 'minotaur' later, silently hoping that they weren't talking about the Vex. He quickly redirected his attention to Dakota, catching her pleased grin out of the corner of his eye as she turned back to face him, he himself swiveling his head to meet her gaze.

"Plus, I think our new friend Skell here really appreciated it," she said, her voice comforting him as she patted him on the back a bit harder than he had expected, her forceful smack sending him stumbling forwards awkwardly as he managed to catch himself and regain his balance, the soreness in his muscles screeching at him for having the audacity to move.

"Ooh, sorry, heh ..." Dakota said in a somewhat embarrassed voice, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, "... you're just a bit smaller than most of the folks 'round here is all."

It wasn't like Skell hadn't noticed. Buster and Baxter were easily triple his size, confirming this to be true as he glanced over in their direction. He was actually just as tall as them though, since Buster and Baxter walked hunched over, whereas Dakota and Winston seemed to have a straighter posture, and even though they weren't quite as large as Buster or Baxter, the way they carried themselves went a long way to making Skell feel shorter than he actually was.

Skell didn't even care if the two burly dogs he was looking at could see the glistening streaks of wetness on his leathery skin; he had cried, and it had felt damn good.

It was at this point, having fully taken in the fact that he legitimately didn't care anymore, that Skell realized he had somewhat lost it, time grinding to a halt around him as he dwelled on the matter. Sprinting across an open field full of Vex was one thing; that was just blatant , spur of the moment, survival driven lunacy.

But this, this was something else entirely, and he was unsure of exactly what he was feeling, the kind of freedom he felt, being able to experience the confusing, yet decidedly pleasurable sensations he had felt freely without fear of reprisal, not caring about others seeing him indulge in a behavior he had been taught was shameful, unbecoming, and useless, a detriment to him even.

It felt like all his life, he had been pushed to the ground, forced to crawl through the mud, so of course he had always felt like life was dreary and terrible, felt like his emotions were only detrimental to his mental wellbeing, because the truth was, with the kinds of emotions you get from having your face shoved into the mud, they were harmful and depressing feelings to harbor. It was only after having the courage, or perhaps just being stupid enough to stand up to his superiors, combined with a twist of fate, that he had managed to roll himself over, to gaze up at the sky, and marvel at its wonder, and only now, by looking back on what his life had been only a short time ago, did he realize that even though he was inching closer to death every second, he felt more alive than he ever had before.

He was scared of his emotions, unsure of what kinds of sensations and experiences they yet held for him, but it felt so very good to be frightened, to have that unknown factor pushing him to try and discover what else might be waiting for him, within himself.

He was most assuredly crazy by eliksni standards, and he loved it how it felt.

The proper flow of time resumed as Skell snapped back to reality, noticing Buster's head darting away as Skell centered on him, the massive dog clearly still reluctant to face Skell after what he had done to him. Skell's eyes wandered over to Winston briefly, his eyes pleading with him, asking him what to do. They exchanged a look, Skell now finally calm enough to take in his appearance, letting his eyes sweep over Winston after seeing him shrug, offering Skell no help in regards to Buster.

Winston wore a small brown, leather jacket, left unzipped just like Buster and Baxter, over his short, tan coat, yet no gemstones were stuffed into his pockets, the little flaps of leather empty at the moment. The little tuft of hair each of the dogs seemed to have right above their eyes was smoothed back in Winston's case, lending more attention to his eyes, accentuating his icy blue irises. Skell took note of the bejeweled collar around his neck, taking the time to try and make out exactly what color the gem embedded into it was, which was rather difficult at times through his blue tinted vision. It was a strange rock, rippling outwards from the center, starting with white in the middle, and gradually transitioning to a caramel tint near the edge of the rounded square shaped stone. It had clearly been carved specifically for his collar.

"Agate. My stone, it's agate," Winston said, rousing Skell from his contemplative stare, tapping one of his fingers against the gemstone. He must have noticed him attempting to determine what it was. "As for the rest of us, well, they can tell you themselves, if you're interested that is."

Skell nodded in reply, eager to learn something new about his new ... friends. He knew it was wrong, calling them that when he hadn't done anything to yet garner their affection, but he was determined to rectify that.

"Alright then. We'll tell you something about ourselves, you'll tell us something about yourself. For starters, I want to know what exactly you are. Never seen anything like you before," Winston said, motioning to Buster and Baxter, and then to Dakota and ... the other dog, before pointing at Skell. The dog still hadn't spoke a word, and even the others hadn't even mentioned him until now. He just stood there, perpetually staring at him, Skell always able to see him out of the corner of his eye. It was, unnerving to say the least.

He thought about Winston's offer for a brief moment. He didn't really need to know what their gemstones were, and there were no repercussions for not knowing, but if he told them that he was an eliksni, well things might get ugly if they recognized the word.

Still, seeing as eliksni had a reputation that got around, and seeing as they genuinely didn't seem to know what he was, Skell figured he was safe to tell them. From what he gathered, they didn't seem to know anything about him or the eliksni.

Skell had been waiting for a day like this, the day he could finally separate himself from the reputation all eliksni had thrust onto them just by merit of them being what they were. He had always wanted to prove, to himself and to the world, that he wasn't a bad person, that just because he was born an eliksni, didn't mean there wasn't any good in his heart.

Here was his opportunity, and after the enlightening kindness Dakota had shown him, he wasn't going to ruin the trust beginning to form between them, however slight, by withholding information from them. Skell figured that even though he really didn't need to know this bit of info, it would serve well as a chance to begin to lessen the tension between him and the others, and to start building a mutual trust. He owed it to himself, and more importantly, to Dakota, to at least try and make nice.

Skell nodded weakly, Winston glancing over to Buster and Baxter, and giving them the go ahead to share their stones with a nod of his own.

"Mine's smoky quartz," Baxter said shuffling a bit closer to Skell and raising a paw up to point at the amber colored gemstone in his collar. Skell looked closer to get a better look, and found that it really did look like there was smoke, suspended within the sizeable translucent stone. Skell shifted his gaze to Buster, who pawed at the ground meekly, his head turned from Skell. He really was beating himself up over what he had done, and couldn't help but feel like Dakota had only worsened the problem by forcing him to apologize, even though she had defended him from Winston. She was a strange one for sure. Skell equated Buster's sheepishness it to a combination of shame, and blind ignorance, two things he knew very well personally.

There was no way Buster could've known he could speak English when he had attacked him, no way he could've known that just talking to him might have defused the situation, although in hindsight, Skell was ready to put a shock round in his skull, and then things would have gone south, fast. Perhaps everything had turned out for the best, in the end.

Skell wasn't entirely sure of it at first, but after that hug from Dakota, he was convinced that the lingering ache in the back of his head was worth it. With all of the kindness Dakota had shown him, he felt obligated to do the same for Buster. Skell glanced over at Dakota to his right, looking at up her, searching her facial features as if it would somehow help him gather the nerve to speak up. He knew it was silly, stupid even, but Skell felt a lot safer, more comfortable around Dakota than he did around anyone else, despite her somewhat worrying remarks. She had kept referring to him as, as her friend, and even though Skell wasn't ready to believe her just yet, not feeling like he had earned her friendship, he was ready to start working towards it.

He was proven right, as Dakota returned Skell's unsure look with a reassuring smile, egging him onwards to do whatever it is he was going to do. She would be there for him if he needed her; there was no reason to be afraid. Skell turned away from Dakota, holding on to the friendly look in her eyes,

He cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that had formed there, and started speaking without knowing what exactly he was going to say at first.

"I uh ... It's alright Buster, really. I ... I forgive you," Skell managed to stutter out, tripping over his own words, but putting as much passion and feeling as he could into them, to really make it clear that he harbored no ill will towards him, and in fact, deep down, was thanking him for inadvertently leading him down a wonderful path.

Buster's ears, which had been flattened against his head the entire time, instantly perked up upon hearing Skell's words of forgiveness. He slowly looked up from the floor, looking right at Skell, the two exchanging an expression of understanding.

"No hard feelings?", Buster asked, his trepidation laden tone clashing oddly against his gruff voice.

"None," Skell replied in the most reassuring voice he could muster, attempting to soften his expression towards the lumbering behemoth of a dog. Buster's own facial expression relaxed as well, his inviting brown eyes lighting up, grinning at Skell as he brought a massive paw up to his collar, directing Skell's attention to the shiny, dark black gemstone embedded there.

"My stone, is onyx," Buster said proudly, tapping one of his fingers against the smooth surface of the precious stone. Skell, not knowing how else to respond, simply nodded in acknowledgement of him, beginning to wonder why they all had a different kind of gemstone. It obviously held some sort of significance that was unclear to Skell, what with the way Buster and Baxter had both presented their stones like they were trophies of some sort. Winston hadn't though, so what did it all mean, what purpose did such a trinket serve? He kept his mouth shut though, not wanting to touch on it in case he was right, and it was some kind of possession they held sacred, instead looking over to Dakota, craning his head back a little bit to look up at her from where she was standing a few paces off to his right, watching her expectantly.

She smiled warmly in his direction, kneeling down so that they were face to face, allowing Skell a better view of the bright red gemstone embedded in the center of her collar. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as her pupils dilated without warning, holding a paw up, motioning for Skell to remain silent as a deep rumbling from somewhere overhead resounded through the air, shaking the tunnel ceiling. Dakota glanced over at Winston, who met her head on, eyes wide, the both of them communicating with each other without uttering a word.

Skell was unsettled by the sudden change in spirits, his instincts beginning to take hold of him once more, shifting uncomfortably in his armor as the somewhat casual and relaxed demeanor of Dakota melted away, revealing an attitude of unnerving seriousness. The rumbling overhead worsened, bits and pieces of loose stone from the tunnel ceiling being knocked free, smashing against the floor. Skell recognized the sound coming from above all too well, and even though he didn't know what was causing it, he knew that something, or rather, a lot of something was marching in the tunnels above, each punishing, methodic footsteps shaking the room around him.

"Dakota, please tell me you resealed the entrance when you came back this morning," Winston pleaded grimly, his voice cutting through the worsening sound rocking the tunnel cavern.

"Course I did, now drop it, ain't no time to play the blame game. They're minotaurs Winston, they can get through mountains if it tickles their fancy. A giant boulder ain't gonna change that," Dakota said, her voice taking on an air of sudden authority.

"But last time-" Winston attempted to retort, but was cut short.

"Last time was different, and you know that. It was a tragedy that we couldn't have prevented. But guess what? The next tragedy is stompin' through our tunnels at this very moment. We know they're comin', we have that goin' for us this time, and I'm telling you to dig deep into that thick skull o' yours to realize that the only way we're gonna get through this, is if we move, now " she said, her torrent of impassioned words, silencing Winston.

"Alright then, now hush up and skidattle on back to the den fore' I smack you upside the head and drag you there myself," Dakota said, interrupting Winston, refusing to argue about it. Winston glared at her, his icy blue eyes clashing against her emerald ones for a moment, before Winston grumbled, and turned away. He glanced over to Buster and Baxter, signaling for them to follow him as he started towards a narrow passage on the far end of the cavern they were in. The as of yet unnamed dog followed suite, shooting Skell a strange look, before falling into line behind the others.

Skell had absolutely no clue as to what was going on, the worrisome scene unfolding before him forcing his instincts to the surface, as the other side of himself asserted itself, beginning to take control again. He could hardly move, much less think, an overwhelming sense of fear gripping him tightly as Dakota quickly turned away from him, hurrying over to the rest of her group, bringing up the back of the troupe of dogs, as Winston disappeared into the passage, Buster and Baxter slipping out of view a moment later.

The rumbling overhead was getting worse, Skell unsure of how to respond as Dakota looked back at him, her eyes filled with conflicting emotions.

"Leave him, we're not taking any chances Dakota!" came Winston's disembodied voice, echoing down the tunnel. Skell couldn't believe his eyes, as she took one last look at him, clenching her own eyes shut, and turning from him, disappearing into the passage, leaving him standing there alone in the darkness, shaking his head ever so slightly, unable to process the fact that the very same person who had opened him up to such wonderful, confusing feelings, had just left him to his fate.

It stung all the worse because of it, his inner voice whispering to him as he blinked back another tear.

Feel that awful, familiar sensation coursing through you? That loneliness, that feeling of abandonment, both things you've felt before. Isn't it so much worse now, so much more painful after having known a moment of relief from them? You keep resisting what I tell you, even though you know I'm right.

Skell was shaking now, another tear slipping from his eyes, as the smile beneath his helmet soured, his face contorting into a grimace. He was a bloody idiot to think he wasn't still alone in the world, to think that just because Dakota and her pack hadn't killed him, that they were suddenly his friends. He was pathetic.

Now get yourself under control, now isn't the time to be breaking down, old pal.

He swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists as he did so, struggling to seal away his emotions. He didn't know what was coming, didn't know if the 'minotaurs' stomping around above were the Vex he dreaded, but he knew that he couldn't give up. He had to keep going, even though the terrible pain in his heart, and the weakness plaguing his body told him to lie down and accept his destiny; to die scared and alone, like the worthless whelp he was.

But he refused to give into the temptation, breathing deeply as he glanced around, noticing several tunnel entrances scattered around the circular cavern. He had no idea where any of them lead, but he couldn't sit there and wait for his death to find him. From the violent shaking still coming from above, there had to be at least a dozen of whatever was slinking through the cave system. Skell could barely take on two opponents at once, much less a dozen. He was dead if he didn't get moving.

He picked an entrance at random, glancing over to the one Dakota had disappeared into, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and sadness, as another hot tear rolled down his cheek. He was still fighting hard against the maelstrom of emotions within him, only clearing his mind enough to be able to act, as he started towards the entrance of his choice.

Skell berated himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. He had known that letting himself go would only cause him more pain in the end, but he had been stupid enough to ignore his voice of reason, and now he was suffering for it, the terrible pain coursing through his body having expanded into his soul, tearing him apart on the inside.

Just as he came to the narrow passage of his chosen tunnel, Skell heard something coming from behind him, off to his right.

"We attacked him and then scared him half to death, I'm not leaving him out here to get torn to pieces by a bunch of savage bulls!"

He was barely able to make out Dakota's muffled shouting, but he recognized her voice instantly. She was arguing with someone, Skell unable to make out the jumble of distant words that came from whoever she was arguing with. He could feel his spirits lifting, able to hear her frantic footsteps, the metallic clanking of her armor echoing down the tunnel she had disappeared into, getting closer by the second. She was coming back for him.

"I'm not letting him get wrapped up in the mess we created! He's coming with us Winston, and that's the end of it!"

Skell turned, her voice getting closer as she scrambled into view , bursting forth into the cavern and immediately calling out to him.

"Skell! It ain't safe out here, please, I know you don't have any reason to trust us, but ..." she pleaded with him, trailing off as they locked eyes, Skell's overjoyed expression conveying all she needed to know. He was by her side within the moment, the soreness in his legs unable to stop him from sprinting over to her, his emotions wrestling control of him once more, as the darkness in his mind whispered to him.

Fine Skell, let your petty emotions control you, but just remember ...

Dakota smiled warmly at Skell, her aura of compassion returning as she waved Skell into the dark passageway, glancing around at the rumbling cavern cautiously for a moment.

... you can't run from what you've become, from who you are.

She sniffed the air for a moment, as Skell stopped, waiting for her to join him, never again wanting to feel the terrible loneliness he had known for so long. Dakota scrunched her face up, displeased by whatever subtle scent she had picked, turning to face Skell, giving him a gentle nudge forward, and slipping into the passage with him, as they disappeared into darkness together, Skell's troubled, darkened mind mirroring the blackness around him. He let Dakota slip past him, to lead the way as Skell realized he was still shaking as he proceeded down the winding tunnel, keeping pace with Dakota.

He wasn't shaking from anger anymore, but rather, fear as he followed her, fighting the darkness within himself, attempting to suppress it as he tried to focus on the powerful relief he felt, the warmth inside of him from knowing that Dakota had come back for him.

I am in every breath you take. You continue to try and separate yourself from me, trying to force me down and silence me.

But even Dakota's constant aura of kindness and warmth, did nothing to stop his blood from running cold as he sensed his inner voice surging back to life, a single, undeniable thought slipping through his mental defenses, chilling him to the bone as the words echoed in his
mind.

But you can't and you will never be able to get rid of me, because I think you've forgotten one tiny detail Skell.

His resolve weakened, the color draining from his face as Skell allowed the the blackness that surrounded him to permeate his being, sweeping away everything else, and leaving only darkness within him as he came to terms with the terrifying thought, knowing in his blackened, guilt ridden heart that it was true.

I am you.

A Simple Task

It was kind of strange, Skell realized. Here he was, scrambling through the darkness that could not stay his eyes, struggling to keep up with Dakota, constantly glancing over his shoulder to see if the punishing, frantic footsteps trailing them were substantiated by anything, namely the creature Dakota had mentioned, 'minotaur'. Every time he turned his head to look behind him, he could feel the panic rising inside of him, but he wasn't scared for some reason, wasn't afraid of whatever was coming for them, even the outside possibility of these minotaurs being of the Vex variety unable to faze Skell.

There was something else in fear's place, a feeling he couldn't quite distinguish, even though he recognized how it felt, the oddly pleasant sensation calming him, putting his chaotic mind at ease, the maelstrom of emotions inside of him, raging against each other and against his best efforts to suppress them, melting away as his entire being felt only this one thing. It felt like Skell's body and soul, knew nothing but this singular emotion at that moment, even his internal voice having been silenced by the sensation. So overriding was this feeling, that he wasn't even frightened or confused as to why it was overtaking him, as there was no space within him not occupied by this emotion.

An invigorating burst of energy, of vitality and strength surged through Skell, allowing him to push past the weakness in his limbs to maintain the quickening pace Dakota was setting. They slinked through an increasingly erratic tunnel pattern, the narrow passage veering off to the right in some cases, and then immediately zigzagging back to the left, all while the slope of the floor decreased little by little, sending them deeper and deeper into the ground. He could hear the echoes of the frantic steps of the other dogs further along the passage than him, pushing him to go faster, the seemingly random tunnel pattern making it hard to maintain anything more than a jog. The floor itself had become uneven as well, forcing Skell to watch where he was stepping, further slowing him down.

Dakota had no such trouble maintaining her hasty pace, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to check up on Skell, to make sure he was keeping up. He had noticed that the gemstone in her collar had begun to emit a soft red glow.

As he went, the rumbling overhead shifted, now seeming to be echoing down the tunnel from behind them. Whatever was chasing them, was getting closer. Skell pumped his legs harder, trailing behind Dakota who was setting a blistering pace, her claws scraping against the floor as she dropped to all fours and burst into a sprint that Skell could scarcely keep up with, especially considering the rough, uneven surface of the floor that had become the norm as they'd descended deeper. Skell's mind did not wander though, not even able to focus on the pain surging through him, telling him to stop. Whatever had taken control of him, whatever he was feeling, disallowed him from focusing on anything else besides staying hot on Dakota's heels, and he did his best to do so. Time seemed to blur, seconds blending into minutes as they continued to flee, the near featureless tunnel melting away around Skell as he focused intently on Dakota, doing everything in his power to stay right behind her.

It was only when Dakota slid to a stop some time later, as she burst into another open cavern, that Skell's mind snapped back to reality, as he ground to a halt behind her a moment later. He doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard, his muscles telling him to collapse.

Another wave of whatever had allowed him to fight through the pain as he had ran swept over him, reassuring him that the only way to make it through this, was to continue fighting the weakness coursing through him. He nodded to himself weakly as he got his breathing under control, even managing to look up at Dakota as she rose to her full height once more, glancing over her shoulder at him. He knew she couldn't see his mouth beneath his ether mask, but he smiled weakly anyways, raising one hand to give her a thumbs up that Skell knew was a blatant lie.

He was actually kind of angry at himself for feeling so weak, for feeling like he was slowing her down. He redoubled his efforts, forcing any notion of pain or suffering in his mind out, gritting his teeth as he stood up straight, silencing his aching body, detaching himself from what was happening. Skell refused to be beaten by his own body.

Dakota grinned ever so slightly at the display, able to tell that he was really struggling to keep on going. She raised a paw to her collar, tapping her glowing gemstone slightly, as it pulsed with bright red light for a moment, before fading back into a dim glow. Something strange happened as it pulsated though, an invisible shockwave rippling outwards, slamming into Skell forcefully.

His eyes shot open as he felt another surge of strength course through him. His eyes flared up for a moment, glowing brighter as he was filled with an overwhelming sense of determination. He had absolutely no idea what she had done to him, or even how, but he wasn't going to argue with the results as the pain he was battling faded away, leaving only raw, potential power left in his extremities. It was an amazing feeling to have, made all the sweeter by the fact that only moments ago, his whole world had been only terrible agony.

"Come on, let's go! We have to seal the den!"

Skell was roused from the incredible sensation he was experiencing by Winston's frantic shouting, the dog located at the far end of the cavern they were in. Skell turned to look at him, noticing that he appeared to be standing in an entrance of some sort, half of the sizeable circular opening behind him blocked by a massive metal plate that seemed to roll into place from the side. He was motioning to them frantically, his eyes conveying the sense of urgency to them.

Dakota burst into a sprint while remaining upright, the metal plates of her armor clanking against one another as Skell followed suit, his newfound vitality allowing him to stay right beside her as they made a mad dash for Winston. Skell didn't know what was going to happen once he was locked in this den of theirs with them, his mind finally managing to find a moment to wander, presenting him with worst case scenarios, his instincts telling him that this was a terrible, stupid idea.

Still, he pressed on, step after step, forcing himself to remember the trust and kindness Dakota had shown him as he got closer and closer to Winston, the worried dog stepping through the entrance, shouting at them to hurry it up. His eyes darting around the massive cavern frantically, scanning it. Skell hadn't noticed it at first, but just like the last cavern, this one was fraught with tunnel entrances, the underground room acting as an intersection of sorts.

It was at that moment, as Skell glanced back over to Winston, that he noticed something was very wrong. Winston's erratic eyes had ceased to dart around the room, and were now locked onto something just outside of Skell's field of vision, off to his right. His mouth was moving, trying to tell them something, but it came out muffled and distorted, at least to Skell, as the world around him became less real for a moment.

The split second that followed was total chaos.

The world around Skell suddenly popped with unnatural vibrancy, becoming incredibly real as Dakota went down in a blur of metal and fur, tackled to the ground by a massive figure that had appeared out of nowhere to Skell's right. Skell, having been running right alongside her on her left was knocked aside as well, tumbling to the ground, unable to keep his footing after such a forceful shove,

"Dakota!" Winston's voice rang out, the sudden ringing in Skell's ears subsiding quickly enough for him to make what he had said out.

Skell lifted his face from the floor, his blurred vision coming back into focus. He pushed himself up off the ground a bit, glancing over at Dakota, his eyes wandering to the tunnel entrance off to her right as more and more creatures flooded into the room, each of them easily eight feet tall, their slightly hunched, hulking forms dwarfing Skell, and even Dakota.

He turned his attention to Dakota, now a few paces away from him, as she wrestled with the massive horned creature attempting to hold her down. She managed to slip one of her arms free of the beast's grasp, winding up and delivering a jaw shattering punch to the creature's face, dazing it for a second as Dakota readjusted her legs, placing the bottom of her feet on its stomach, and kicking it off forcefully. It flew backwards a few paces, hitting the ground with a metallic clank, as the truly huge battle axe it had been holding in one gauntleted hand skittered away.

It snorted angrily, hot air escaping from its short muzzle, as it slammed a fist into the ground, forcing itself up, and looking straight at Skell, a visible dent in its helmet where Dakota had walloped it. Peering out from beneath the rectangular eye slots in its full helmet, were two beady eyes that Skell could clearly see through his own blue tinted vision. They burned with a tempered rage so great that even Skell was taken aback.

It abruptly clicked in Skell's mind, staring into the beast eyes as it got to its hooves, Skell noted. This was a minotaur, wasn't it? This was what Dakota had been referring to all along. Somehow, even though Skell would take just about anything over fighting a Vex, he felt like this creature, this mass of muscle and metal, fueled by disciplined anger, would be far worse to square off against.

He could feel the sensation that had carried him through the tunnel system without fear or anxiety beginning to crack, allowing doubt and a myriad of other emotions to come rushing back to him all at once. His heart sank, able to feel himself beginning to sweat, his heart rate picking up as well.

"Seal the darned entrance!" Dakota barked back at Winston as she forced herself to stand, her paws splayed out by her sides, her retractable claws extended. She didn't even turn to look over at Winston as she shifted her stance, baring her teeth, and growling at the minotaur before her.

Despite the fear beginning to take hold of him, Skell roused himself to action following Dakota's example and managed to get to his feet once more, almost wishing he hadn't for what he saw as he stood up reasserted the feeling of hopelessness dwelling inside of him. There were four others standing behind the minotaur that had tackled Dakota, each of them brandishing a double sided battle axe, their sweeping, sharpened blades truly massive. But what really caught Skell's attention was how they moved.

Each of them was encased within a suit of overlapping plates, the only spots not covered by armor being their eye, nose, and mouth slots, along with an opening on each side near the top of their helmet for a pair of intimidating horns to poke through. They were so heavily armored that it must have impaired their movement, and yet, they shifted and shuffled as if the undoubtedly heavy metal plates weighing them down weren't even there, each of their motions fluid and natural as they stomped closer to Dakota. It was almost like they were one with their armor; a frightening prospect.

"B-but you'll-" Winston started, before falling silent as Dakota glanced in his direction.

She shot Winston a grim look, her eyes filled with a deep sadness, clashing against defiant determination. She spoke no words, but what she said was final. There was no other way.

He looked down for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, and nodding shakily as he took hold of the circular, rolling door. Skell was sure he saw a tear slip from his eye as he sealed himself off, the plate clicking into place as the rough gemstone embedded into the center of the door burst to life, exploding in a flash of brilliant light that left behind a barely visible barrier of pulsating blue energy. One of the minotaurs had moved to stop Winston, but arrived a moment too late, instead careening into the barrier. It smashed its fist against the field of energy, the force field rippling outwards from every impact point like water, but all to no avail.

A shielding device, Skell figured, having seen higher ranking eliksni carry them as a form of self defense. He was unable to decide whether or not he should be furious at Winston for leaving him to get ripped apart by these minotaurs, even though Dakota was the one who had forced his hand.

As the terrible din of metal clattering against metal flooded into the room from behind Skell, catching his attention, he decided to put off judgement for now, resolving not to think about nonessential things for the time being. He figured he'd have plenty of time to dwell on whatever he liked if he managed to actually make it through the situation that was rapidly deteriorating around him. Indeed, when he glanced over his shoulder, he was clearly able to see five more minotaurs bursting forth from the same passage he and Dakota had come from.

Ten of them, versus him and Dakota. He had a pretty good idea of how that would end, especially considering the fact that the fear gripping him was slowly paralyzing him.

Forgetting someone now, aren't we Skell?

His eyes widened, his inner voice slinking back into his mind, talking to him as the world around him slowed.

Look at yourself, letting your emotions control you like some worthless human.

Skell watched intently, slowly backing away from Dakota as she dashed to her right as one of the minotaurs set before her lunged forward with an overhead axe swing, the steely blade kicking up a few sparks, finding nothing but rock to bite into. Dakota pressed her positional advantage, smashing her armored right elbow into the minotaur's side, the blunt force of the blow carrying through the minotaur's armor and dazing it long enough for Dakota to grab hold of one of its horns. She forcefully yanked its head down as she slammed her other fist into the top of the beast's helmet.

Metal and bone yielded to her assault, a sickly crack resounding through the air, before she released her grip on the beast's horn, letting the limp form fall to the ground in a pile, its axe sliding from its hands. Skell, even from where he was standing, was able to see rivulets of blood pouring through the minotaur's eye slots, forming a dark pool around its crushed head.

You care about this one, don't you? It's why you're unable to quiet your emotions, I can sense it. You're afraid of losing the only one who ever showed you any kindness, afraid that you'll never feel her warmth on you again. You truly are a pathetic specimen Skell, even now motivated only by selfish interests.

Two more minotaurs rushed forward, one on each side of Dakota, each of them with their heads angled down, horns pointed at her like lances as they crushed the stone to dust beneath their armored hooves. Dakota, instead of trying to avoid them, surged ahead to meet them head on. The two beasts were charging at her in such a way that there was a small gap between them, and Dakota exploited it by dropping into a slide just as they were about to gore her, reappearing behind them and wasting no time in leaping on top of one of the minotaurs. She took hold of both its horns and yanked its head back, even as the massive creature struggled to shake her off.

Skell looked on at the admittedly impressive display of agility and strength, nearly frozen in mesmerized fear, even as the punishing footsteps coming from behind him approached. He was too involved with trying to beat back his inner self, telling him to just let go, to give in to his murderous ways. Skell knew, deep in his soul that he wanted to help Dakota, and he knew if he would only pick up his gun and start killing, that he could.

But something else, something recent and new that he couldn't quite understand, was fighting his inner voice with everything it had, trying to get Skell to see that if he gave in, he would essentially be admitting that Kalnir had been right, that he was a pirate, and that no matter what he did to try and change that, he would always be the very thing he was now fighting so hard to distance himself from.

I don't know when you decided that you could just run from your past Skell, but it doesn't work like that. You can't leave a lifetime behind, just because you want to. We are, who we are; who we were made to be.

Skell took another big step backwards, his eyes still locked onto Dakota as wrestled with the minotaur she was on. She released her grip on one of the creature's horns, the claws on her free hand igniting in a burst of red light as they were encased within a sheath of crackling red energy.

She gave the rampaging minotaur one more good pull backwards, yanking its head up, exposing its neck. She raked her energized claws across its neck, slicing through its thick gorget and tearing apart the vulnerable flesh beneath.

Skell looked on as the huge beast choked and gurgled on its own blood, falling to its knees as Dakota dismounted, turning her attention to the other minotaur that had charged her, snarling at it as her other set of claws burst to life with the same crackling red aura.

But Skell couldn't tear himself away from the injured beast, watching as it let its axe fall to the ground with a heavy clatter, reaching up with both of its gauntleted hands, desperately trying to cover the rent in its neck, as blood continued to pour from between its reddened fingers, streaking down its silvery chest plate. Skell's eyes wandered to its face, and he looked into its eyes, just barely visible beneath its helmet, watching the life drain out of them as it collapsed onto its side, accompanied by the clanking of metal as it hit the ground.

That look in its eyes, that look of futility, of fear, anger and sadness ; that unspoken feeling of 'I don't want to go', that he had seen in that minotaur's eyes ... he knew it well. He had seen it hundreds of times before, and every time, he wished he could just take everything back, and even now, just witnessing it one more time, he could feel his sins crawling on his back. He continued to rage against his creeping instincts, as the heavy steps behind him neared.

Why are you trying to shut me out, and at a time like this? I am the piece of you that got us this far, and now you're going to throw it all away and get us both killed because of some deluded sense of morality. You're fighting the wrong battle Skell.

Skell continued to observe Dakota as she ducked underneath a sweeping, horizontal strike from the minotaur before her, immediately bringing a clawed hand upwards as the attack whiffed. Her crackling claws sliced the long metal haft of the axe in two, the end of it containing the axe head skittering away as the beast was left with a useless length of steel.

But you're too stubborn to see that. I will not let you drag us both down. You will submit!

He had been resisting his instincts the entire time, but his resolve could only get him so far. He felt a deep, encompassing stillness taking hold of him, a familiar shockwave of suppression pushing back the slew of raw emotions plaguing him. Even so, a tiny piece of himself refused to be purged by his instinctual failsafe, continuing to bash its head against the expanding wall of discipline and cold aloofness. His eyes were still locked onto Dakota, even though he now felt a strange detachment from the situation, watching her fight on.

She rushed forward, her claws poised to tear into the minotaur, but as her feet left the ground, leaping into the air, Skell noticed that that the same minotaur that had attempted to stop Winston from sealing the entrance had rushed over to aid the rest of its kind.

It's actually really quite amusing that you think you ever had a say in the matter at all. But I'll humor you Skell, because I know you're still fighting me, even now. We're not going to survive this unless we're both on board, so I'll give you a reason to do as I say ...

Skell watched as he minotaur's hand wrapped around Dakota's ankle, closing around it like a vice as the huge beast stopped her midair, pulling her down with a forceful yank and slamming her into the ground, the aura around her claws flickering out.

Dakota gasped painfully as the air was knocked out of her, connecting with the ground in an explosive manner, her impact shattering the stone beneath her. The armored giant released its grip on her, taking its gargantuan axe in both hands, as Dakota struggled to move out of the way.

Skell was forced to watch as she looked up at him weakly, her emerald eyes pleading with him from a distance.

... see that? Look into her fading eyes and behold your only chance of ever experiencing that deplorable warmth you so desire, slipping away.

Skell couldn't stand to watch any longer, seeing the pain and desperation in her eyes. Yet even so, he kept trying to find another way, any way he could help them both, struggling against the urge to pick up his gun and admit defeat. The tiny sensation within his otherwise blank soul tried, and failed to stop his arm from moving towards his shock pistol, desperately shouting at him with a voice too small to hear.

Skell finally realized that there was no other way.

His fingers wrapped around the cool grip of the gun, watching as the minotaur beside Dakota reared back with its axe, preparing an overhead swing.

You know what has to happen, if you ever want to feel it again. If you want to sate your repulsive, selfish craving for kindness, to "show her how grateful you are", then you'll listen to me and hear me well. I have a very simple task for you, one that you'll find intuitive, Skell.

Skell's pupils, hidden behind the glow of his eyes, contracted into predatory slits as the insignificant feeling raging against the darkness inside him was finally snuffed out, leaving his mind, body and soul filled with nothing but a lifetime of brutal cunning, and an overwhelming desire to protect Dakota.

Kill them all.

Move, dammit move!

Dakota knew what she wanted to do, but her body wasn't cooperating, the pain shooting through her left leg causing her to grimace as she attempted to roll out of the way, only rolling far enough so that she could look up at the minotaur about to slice her in two, her eyes gravitating towards the gleaming axe it held aloft.

She closed her eyes, desperately trying to inch away from her death. That was when a sound, unlike anything she had ever heard assaulted her ear drums, the whining, hissing noise erupting into existence and echoing off the high ceiling of the cavern. Her eyes instantly shot back open, darting around frantically for a moment before stopping abruptly, centering on her would be executioner. Dakota watched, mouth agape as the huge, imposing minotaur before her spasmed uncontrollably for a moment, the axe raised over his head slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground behind him.

He took an unsteady step back, regaining control and looking down at the smoke drifting off the hole in his chest, Dakota following his hands as he brought them to cover the bloodless wound, the section of his chest plate reduced to molten slag.

The warrior looked back up at something out of Dakota's field of vision, and she watched intently as a searing bolt of blue energy arced through the air, nailing the minotaur right between his eyes, another violent bout of twitching gripping him for a moment, before collapsing unceremoniously in a smoking heap. The foul smell of burning flesh and fur, mixed with molten metal filled the air.

"What the ..." Dakota muttered to herself, unsure of what the heck was going, but not arguing with the momentary reprieve, finally mustering the will to fight through the crippling pain in her side as she struggled to her feet. That same sharp hissing sound reached her again, as she watched another bolt of crackling blue energy whizz past her, her eyes unable to keep up with the lightning fast projectile as it slammed into another minotaur a few feet to her right.

She watched briefly, stunned as the behemoth lost control of his own body, spasming violently as he fell to his knees, another brilliant bolt of energy streaking past Dakota and catching the warrior in the head. He continued to twitch, even after having toppled backwards with a metallic clank as he hit the ground, smoke rising off of the mass of burnt flesh and metal.

Dakota swiveled her head the other way, finally locating the source of the hissing sound as yet another crackling mass of blue energy zoomed past her.

It was Skell.

He was slowly walking towards her, taking his time with every step, one arm outstretched, holding a strange, tan colored device with ridged spikes protruding along the length of the top of it. She watched, mesmerized as a swirling mass of crackling electricity coalesced inside the barrel of the device, before shooting outward in burst of light and sound. Dakota just barely managed to wrench her eyes away from staring at it dumbfounded, her gaze locking on to the warriors stampeding towards Skell from behind, the very same minotaurs that had been chasing them directly.

"Skell! Beh-" Dakota began, attempting to warn him of the group of five more minotaurs rapidly approaching him from behind, the heavy thud of their loud steps easily audible, yet Skell seemed like he was in no hurry, paying them no mind. Dakota's voice faltered at what she saw next.

She watched in shocked awe as he whirled around, one hand moving down to his belt and detaching a small, stick shaped device from it, the length of metal pulsating with white hot energy as he flung it at the minotaurs in one swift motion as he was spinning around.

The small device skittered to the ground a few paces in front of the group of warriors, resting there for a moment, before detonating in a burst of blinding light that illuminated the cavern. Dakota didn't even know what to think, a million thoughts racing through her head as she watched every last minotaur stop dead in their tracks, uncontrollable muscle spasms wracking them, as clearly visible surges of crackling electricity arced back and forth across their conductive metal armor. The tendrils of energy slinked up and down their extremities, rocking them violently, smoke beginning to rise off of them as their muffled groans and gasps of pain filled the air.

One fell to the ground not a moment later, hitting the floor with a heavy thud as smoke drifted up off of him, and then another, and another. Dakota could only watch in disbelief, looking on at the three dead warriors of Minos, her eyes darting back over to Skell, who was leveling the device in his hand at one of the two warriors that simply refused to die.

Both of them managed to struggle desperately, breaking free of whatever had felled their brethren, and rampaged forwards with a newfound rage, crushing the stone beneath their hooves into submission.

Dakota started toward Skell, intending to assist him, but stopped cold.

The first minotaur rushed straight past Skell as he rolled to his left, two more brilliant arcing bolts of energy bursting forth from his weapon, each of them finding their mark as they slammed into the side of the minotaur's head. The armored warrior's furious charge turned into an awkward stumble , the violent spasms overtaking him as he tripped over himself and crumbled to the floor, a foul smell wafting off of him.

Dakota took a step back, genuinely taken aback by what she saw staring down at the dead minotaur, her eyes unable to look away from its helmet.

It had been melted onto the minotaur's head.

Metal slag had been fused with the bone of its protruding horns, bits of burnt flesh and singed fur poking through the melted holes in the side of its head, the cauterized, blackened flesh conjoined with the metal of its helmet. The two impact points where the projectiles had landed were still giving off a visible trail of wispy, acrid smoke. She had seen a lot of disgusting wounds in her time, but this ... this was something else entirely.

She snapped her attention back over to Skell just in time to watch him get lifted off the ground by the final minotaur warrior that closed in on him while she was distracted. The massive bovine had grabbed Skell by the neck so suddenly and with such force that Skell's mysterious weapon was forced from his grasp, crashing to the ground below as he was held aloft, the huge warrior crushing him in a death grip as he readjusted his grip on his axe, holding it close enough to the head that he would be able to swing it accurately with one arm.

Dakota, suddenly aware of Skell's impending death, shook herself out of her daze, rushing forward as fast as her legs could carry her, dropping to all fours to pick up speed as her front set of claws ignited with ruby red energy. Her gemstone glowed brightly as she surged towards Skell.

But she was too late. She ground to a stop just a few feet away from the gargantuan beast, looking on in disbelief at the scene before her.

The minotaur released its grasp on Skell, and stumbled backwards as Skell hit the ground with a dull thud, landing on his knees and coughing violently, gasping for air. Dakota watched, as the warrior began to twitch and spaz out, bringing its now free hand up to where a sizeable blade had been jammed into its neck. It had punctured its heavy armor like it was nothing, the metal around the blade seeming to almost have peeled itself back to allow the sword entrance.

Dakota glanced back over to Skell who was now standing at his full height, watching as he sauntered over to the minotaur, unflinching in his stride. A combination of disbelief, concern, and genuine fear danced across her face as she found herself slowly rising to stand on two legs, the aura surrounding her claws flickering out while the bright light emanating from within her gemstone ceased. They were left in darkness once more, Dakota only able to see what was unfolding before her by virtue of her kind's low light vision.

She almost wished she couldn't.

Skell stopped just in front of the minotaur, and even though he was dwarfed by the beast, Dakota knew which of them was experiencing true terror at that moment, able to feel a chill creeping down her spine as she watched Skell unsheathe a dagger from a makeshift scabbard at his side. He held the knife, turning it over, observing it a few times, as the minotaur continued to spasm violently, unable to keep itself from falling to its knees , bringing it face to face with Skell.

He looked up from the dagger, a soft blue glow suddenly encasing the entire blade, as he stared into the minotaur's eyes, the beast's pained groans making the fur on the back of Dakota's neck stand up on end. She didn't know what he saw in the minotaur's eyes, but apparently Skell really hated whatever it was.

He took a step forward, getting in nice and close to the warrior, before jerking his arm forward, and jamming the glowing dagger into the beast's left eye, through its open eye slot. It must have died instantly, the minotaur's cries of agony falling silent as Skell yanked the blade out of its eye, while he pulled the other, much longer sword from its neck. He put a foot on the beast's chest, and kicked it over.

The room fell silent in the moments after the metallic clatter of the brutalized minotaur hitting the floor faded into obscurity.

Dakota forced herself to keep her eyes locked onto Skell, not wanting to look at the undoubtedly grizzly sight next to him. He just stood there, looking down at the broken form before him, as he sheathed both of his blades, the shorter one disappearing into a holster at his side, the longer one fitting snugly into a scabbard suspended across his chest by a strap. He remained deathly still after he had finished putting away his weapons. She could scarcely believe he hadn't already killed her. Dakota had known he was carrying weapons with him, at least in regards to his blades, but she had never truly realized until now how deadly they were, and by that same token, how close she might have been to death.

She was more than a little hesitant to begin moving towards him, her wandering eyes darting all around her, taking in the destruction and death surrounding her, smelling the awful, acrid scent of burnt flesh, able to hear whenever a muscle spasm jolted through a corpse, the unsettling clatter of metal causing her to shake. She took a tentative step toward Skell.

Hoooo ... Just ... breathe ... let your ruby do it for you ...

The red gemstone embedded into her collar began to pulsate rhythmically as she slowed her breathing down, quieting the fear that was beginning to take hold of her, and replacing it with an unnatural courage that spurred her onwards, despite her trepidation. She took another cautious step towards Skell, stopping midstride as she noticed him move ever so slightly.

He turned his head ever so slowly, taking his time as his gaze drifted over to her, staring down at the floor just in front of her, hiding his eyes from view. Both of them remained where they were, unflinching, even though Dakota's façade of bravery started to crack, Skell's oddly intimidating, unnaturally still silhouette unnerved her.

If that simply rattled her nerves, what she saw next terrified her.

She could feel her blood frosting over in her veins as Skell looked up at her. Those eyes weren't his. She had only been around him for a sparse few moments, but whatever was in those detached, dead eyes of his, the very same ones that had produced genuine tears of happiness, whatever it was, it wasn't Skell. It was like staring into the eyes of a feral animal, but far worse; gazing into pure darkness, so black that even through her night vision, the pits of his eyes remained a colorless void, even though they still burned with that same strange blue-white glow that concealed what was behind them.

She winced, rousing her from her terror stricken stupor as Skell suddenly collapsed onto his knees, wobbling uneasily as he fell, before finally toppling backwards in a heap. He hit the floor with a sharp metallic thud.

Dakota finally regained her senses as Skell hit the ground sharply, noticing that she was still shaking, even through the courage her gemstone was imbuing her with, its soft glow visible beneath her face.

Dakota swallowed hard, taking a cautious step forward, trying to focus on the courage in her heart as she neared Skell's motionless form. A terrible thought crept to the forefront of her mind as she approached.

She didn't want to admit it, but he had saved her life, and it made the thought of having to kill Skell all the harder to bear. Here was someone who she and her pack had not only wronged once, but who had then proceeded to stand beside her in battle, and she might have to kill him. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

But she couldn't trust him, no matter how much faith she wanted to put in Skell. She admitted to the fact that Skell could have killed her earlier, hell, he could've killed her now, yet chose not to, which reassured her that she made the right decision in trusting him, but even so, things were different now. After having witnessed such a merciless display, there was no way she could take any chances with such a dangerous character. The moment he tried anything, reached for any of his weapons, she would have to tear his throat out, if not to protect herself, then to protect the other four members of her pack.

She had told Winston to seal the entrance to keep them all safe, and when she had made the decision to stand and fight, to not risk the rest of her pack's safety, she had committed to eliminating any potential threat to them, and she was going to make good on that promise, no matter how hard it was, no matter how low it would bring her.

The maelstrom of conflicting emotions raging inside of her brought her to the brink of tears, a knot forming in her stomach as she came to a stop in front of Skell's nearly motionless form. He was still breathing, his chest rising and falling weakly. As terrible a thought it was, somewhere deep inside of her, she had hoped he would have been dead so she wouldn't have had to deal with the situation, to recognize the fact that she might be deciding Skell's fate in the next few moments.

She crouched down hesitantly, her frantic eyes darting around Skell's entire body, scanning for any sudden movements as she began removing the belt fastened to his waist, fiddling with the strange clasp for a moment before sliding it off of him gently, trying to be both quick and gentle with her movements. She pushed the heavy belt behind her, the two metallic cylinders attached to it rolling a few inches, dragging the belt with them slightly, before coming to a stop.

Dakota suddenly frozen, noticing the device Skell had been using throughout most of the fight, the one he had dropped when he had been caught off guard by the final minotaur. Dakota shuddered staring down at the mysterious, deadly thing, her mind racing back to the fact that Buster still had the other one, having picked it up and kept it after knocking Skell out. She hesitantly reached over to it, sliding it behind her and making a mental note to take the one Buster had when she got back.

She turned her attention to the strap across Skell's chest, her eyes focusing on the blade draped across his chest as she reached over to the strap with intention.

Dakota was so focused on separating Skell from his weapons that she didn't even notice one of his eyes cracked open for a split second.

An acceptable performance. See? That wasn't so hard.

The unbearable ache in Skell's muscles had returned, and begged to differ.

Quit your whining, and reap what you've sown.

Skell cracked one of his eyes open just barely wide enough to make out Dakota's blurry form right next to him.

I always keep my promises. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, that's how its always been between us, you've just forgotten that as of late.

Despite the pain coursing through his body and the fact that he had just massacred over half a dozen souls in a bloodthirsty frenzy, a weak smile crept across Skell's face, hidden by his ether mask as he let his eye close, not wanting to think too hard about his actions.

He could feel the blackness calling to him once more, telling him to drift away. He allowed himself to heed its call, comforted by the feeling of Dakota's soft paws on his chest.

I'll never understand what you get out of moments like these, but go ahead. Savor it Skell.

His last thought before slipping away, suddenly wiped the smile from his face, as he no longer found himself drifting peacefully into darkness comforted by the fact that Dakota was still alive, but falling into an endless void as he fully realized why she was still alive. It reverberated within him, souring his mood as he slipped into unconsciousness for the second time that day.

You earned it.

Her Way

For such a small frame, Skell was surprisingly heavy, and although Dakota was more than capable of hefting him around, it was still surprising to feel just how much weight was packed into such a small space. Dakota chalked part of it up to the weird armor he was wearing at first, but after seeing him move about it in, she doubted it was all that cumbersome. She readjusted her grip on him, carrying him with both her arms, his legs dangling off to one side, his head curled up near her chest plate.

Dakota continued her steady pace, the sound of her claws against the stone floor echoing through the darkened cavern. She kept her eyes trained straight ahead, locked on to the den door, still sealed behind a barrier of energy. She didn't want to look at any of the brutalized corpses strewn about as she passed them, though she could definitely smell them. As it is, she was just barely mustering enough good will to spare Skell, she didn't need any more reminders of why she should really be ripping him to ribbons right now.

Even though she knew it was the best way, the safest way, Dakota didn't work like that, she couldn't just bring herself to betray him after he had saved her life. Reluctant as she was to admit it, he had most likely saved her entire pack. Ten vanguards? Dakota was a good fighter, and she was confident in her abilities but fighting ten minotaur vanguards all at once was practically suicide. Yet here she was, carrying someone who had done just that, or very close to it anyways. Her prideful side was unwilling to let go of the fact that she had still downed two bulls herself.

She let her gaze slowly drift down to the unconscious form in her arms, her soft eyes scanning his face as she neared the entrance. She couldn't help but laugh and sigh grimly at the same time looking down at Skell. She didn't know what to do with him. She wasn't going to kill him preemptively, she couldn't just leave him out here, with or without his stuff, and she couldn't keep him around, even disarmed. Simple fact of the matter was that he was just too dangerous, too unpredictable from what she'd seen so far.

Dakota could scarcely believe that this twig less than half her size, was more dangerous than a minotaur, ten times over even. Everything she had witnessed thus far, that detached, cold look in his eyes, the acrid smell of burnt flesh still flooding into her nostrils even now, was telling her to drop him and take a chunk out of his neck. It would guarantee he wouldn't cause her any trouble, and she wouldn't have to worry about keeping an eye on him.

At the same time, the very fact that he was as dangerous as ten minotaurs was a contributing factor to her wanting to keep him around, to try her best to befriend him. All she ever wanted to do was to take care of her pack and keep them safe, and as reluctant as she was to admit it, she just couldn't do it alone anymore. The raids had been going on for weeks, usually consisting of just two to three warriors. She could deal with that, but obviously they were getting fed up with her pack's resiliency, week after week, so they must have decided to try and put a stop to it all with one final push. She didn't want to think about what might have been if she hadn't met Skell. It was clear that she needed help, and although Buster and Baxter were large fellas, they were just big softies, of no use in a fight.

But Skell ... he had already proven his worth as a fighter, and although he legitimately frightened her like no one she had ever met before, she needed his help. That moment when she had been slammed into the floor, staring up at the huge blade about to come down on her, her body refusing to move fast enough, she thought she had failed. When that strange, terrible noise had reached her ears, she didn't know what to think, but as she had looked over to Skell, watched him walking towards her as the minotaur beside her fell, she knew he had her back. Skell stood by her and even though she couldn't be sure of whether he had been fighting for his own survival, or for both of theirs, the simple fact of the matter was that he was more than capable of killing her if he really wanted to. He chose not to.

That was all she really needed to know, and while she still couldn't fully trust Skell, he deserved a chance based on his actions.

She groaned, mentally berating herself for being so much like her father, for putting so much faith in strangers. She sometimes loathed the fact that she had inherited her dad's emotional softness and optimism. She was constantly at odds with what her logical mind told her was the right decision.

If she wasn't holding Skell, she would be facepalming at how unbelievably stupid, naieve even, she thought was acting right now, going against her better judgement like she was. It was pointless trying to talk herself out of it at that point though, she had already made up her mind about the whole thing, the conflicting emotions within her doing nothing to deter her anymore. Skell would have his chance.

She came to a stop a few paces from the shield of energy protecting the den door, looking up from Skell and steeling herself, trying to ignore the scent of burned flesh that still permeated the cavern. Winston would be relived to see that she had made it, but he was still no doubt gonna give her hell for having Skell with her. In hindsight Winston was probably right to not trust Skell after having witnessed the kind of destruction he was capable of, but at the same time, she wouldn't be standing there were it not for his help.

She just hoped she could rush inside and close the door before Winston had a chance to see or smell the grizzly scene behind her. It wouldn't do much to reassure him that bringing the person that caused it all into the den was a good idea.

Dakota sighed, resigning herself to the inevitable verbal onslaught she'd be facing in just a few moments. She concentrated on the lingering vestiges of courage within her, brushing aside all her other emotions as she closed her eyes and focused on this one singular feeling. Her gemstone began to glow with a soft red light, as the courage within her burned away every other sensation coursing through her for a single moment, her entire body alight with sensory overload as the light radiating from within her ruby intensified before expelling itself in a burst of energy.

The shockwave of light and sound that rippled outwards from her collar collided with the force barrier surrounding the den door, the red energy from the pulse of light fusing with the blue energy of the shield, before it flickered into nothingness as the shield disintegrated with a sharp crackle.

The rough, glowing gemstone embedded into the center of the door sputtered and faded into darkness, as Dakota's ruby also dimmed, the overwhelming sensation of courage rushing through her subsiding as she gasped from the sudden withdrawl of emotions. She had never truly gotten used to that part of being a diamond dog, of being a gem bearer.

She had spent so long training to brace herself from the sudden influx of emotions that came with her ruby, that she had more or less ignored training to steel herself against suddenly having them yanked away all at once. It made her feel strangely empty every time it happened, having all that unwavering courage and bravery ripped away in a moment, and even though the void within her was always filled with other emotions quickly, it still rattled her nerves every time.

It scared her how weak she felt without her gem's power.

Coming down from the unnerving rush, Dakota blinked hard a few times, shaking her head slightly to straighten her thoughts as the den door began to slowly slide to the left, stone grinding against stone as the dim torchlight from behind the door peaked around the edges of the circular slab of metal and rock.

Dakota took a step forward as the door creaked open just wide enough for her to fit through, but quickly halted her advance at what she saw as the stone slab clicked into position, having rolled open all the way.

Standing a few feet beyond the entrance was Winston, hunched over menacingly. He looked ready for a fight, his gemstone glowing his signature amber, his claws encased in sheaths of crackling energy of the same color. His expression was a mix of fear and determination, his face contorted into a snarl at first, his fur bristling with anger, droplets of desperate wetness clearly visible in his eyes, but as him and Dakota locked eyes, his demeanor softened instantly, shock clashing with relief as they both danced across his features, his snarl melting into a slack jawed stare. His gem flickered and dimmed as the arcing energy surrounding his claws disintegrated into wisps of residual magic before sputtering out of existence. His eyes brightened.

" Y-you ... you're alive! I-I ..." Winston stuttered in disbelief at first, breaking into an uncontrollable grin and practically shouting, before fumbling into a breathless sense of awed happiness, unable to find the words to finish his sentence. Dakota remained silent, managing to return the sentiment with a weak smile of her own. She was still preparing herself for the confrontation; she knew it was coming.

Indeed, it came not seconds later as Winston dropped everything rushed forward to meet her, ecstatic waves of joy washing over him for a moment, before being torn away, as he ground to a halt, his expression faltering upon noticing Skell held snugly in her arms. His implacable grin quickly receded into a vague frown as he stared at the strange form Dakota held, only looking up from it a few moments later.

"Is ... is it , y'know ... dead?" he said, pausing every few seconds, hesitant to ask. Dakota took a brief moment, sighing and looking away from him, breaking eye contact.

"No, he's still alive," Dakota responded, her words bittersweet. Winston's gaze drifted back down to Skell, scanning him as his chest rose and fell weakly, before turning away and staring at the ground.

Dakota remained where she was, fighting back her anxiety as she steeled herself, taking a deep breath, and stepping forward, hopeful that Winston would just let the whole thing slide.

"No," Winston said shaking his head, his eyes hidden from view. The sinking feeling within Dakota was reaffirmed by his defiant, yet saddened tone. She had known this wouldn't be easy, but she had to try and push through it.

"Yes," she retorted, unsure of what else to say as she took another hesitant step towards Winston.

"Dakota, please ... I- we almost lost you, because of that thing," Winston stuttered, his words cutting into Dakota as she slowed to a halt just a few inches away from him. She tried to look Winston in the eye, but he refused to look up from the floor, and so she found her own gaze slowly drifting to the side as she mulled over what to say.

"He saved my life," Dakota said, letting her words resonate for a few moments, as Winston shifted uncomfortably.

"If you hadn't gone back for it, you wouldn't have needed saving, you would've made it inside with everyone else," Winston suddenly said, his voice faltering near the end.

"That was my decision."

"And it was a stupid one."

"No, it was the right thing to do, and you know that" Dakota fired back, trying to convince him of her point of view. She tried one more time to get him to look up at her, but sighed as he continued to stare at the floor. He was beginning to shake slightly. The oppressive silence that permeated the room was strangling them both.

"Look, Dakota, whatever happened out there, I know it wasn't your doing. You even said it yourself, 'He saved my life.' We've known each other for a long time, and I've never met anyone better at fighting than you b-but ..." he stammered out, choking up near the end as his voice cut through the air, swallowing hard and continuing " I know what burnt flesh smells like, and I've known you, trained with you long enough to know that you haven't the slightest idea when it comes to fire magic. Whatever it did to those minotaurs, it couldn't have been pretty; it smells truly repulsive. I don't want that happening to us."

Dakota could feel a shiver run down her spine. She had hoped he wouldn't have noticed the terrible stench, but it was a long shot at best. She calmed herself, trying to put together a response, taking a step back as she attempted to fill the entrance a bit more, to try and at least keep him from actually seeing the carnage.

"We only just met it. We have no way of trusting it, and I don't understand why you insist on putting blind faith in it."

"Winston I was out there, fighting right beside him. He could've turned on me and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. But he didn't. The fact that I'm even alive right now is proof enough that we can trust him," Dakota said, trying to put every ounce of passion and confidence into her words.

She finished, silencing sweeping over them, Winston still refusing to look at her. She was getting nowhere, snorting in frustration at Winston's stubbornness, but concerned about him all the same, noticing that his shaking had gotten worse. His paws were clenched into fists. Taking a deep breath, and readying herself, Dakota decided to redouble her efforts.

"I'm not asking you to like him. I'm not asking you to be grateful for what he did for us today. I'm not even asking you to trust him. All I'm asking, is that you trust me."

Silence.

He refused to budge. Dakota was about to sigh in frustration and defeat, only stopping herself from doing so once she caught a glimpse of something seemingly insignificant; a single tear sliding off of Winston's hidden face, plummeting to the ground and dispersing into even smaller droplets with an almost inaudible sound. Dakota found herself staring at Winston, watching his trembling form as another droplet of wetness fell from his darkened face. Winston did many things, but cry? Something was definitely wrong with him. She blinked a few times in disbelief, swallowing hard as she mustered up the courage to speak, finding her voice.

" Winston, I-I... " she said worriedly, trailing off, suddenly unable to think of what to say. Without any better idea, she hesitated and took a step forward, now only a few inches away from him. His refusal to look at her, combined with his reluctance to speak was starting to get to her, the ice in her veins growing colder by the second. She could feel herself getting goosebumps as she looked at Winston's visage, shrouded from view. It was so very strange to see him like this, and more than a little disconcerting; she was honestly lost as to why he was acting like this.

"Look at me," she demanded, trying to wrest control of the situation. "Winston, look at me."

Her voice died away within a few moments, and in that time, Winston finally moved. He hesitated at first, but little by little, he began to look up at her, stopping just short of actually looking her in the eye, flicking his own eyes away from hers. They both stood there, neither daring to speak, until finally, Winston's shaky voice split the silence.

"T-This isn't the first time you've done this," his voice was hoarse and unsteady, but it was backed by a wall of raw emotion that took Dakota aback as he continued, "I've thought you dead many times, and every time you came back, every time you turned out to still be alive, I told myself, I'd never let you go again, told myself I'd try harder to hang onto you ..." Winston said, still unwilling to lock eyes with her.

"... and yet here we are, once again," Winston said, taking a step back and outstretching his arms in exasperation and disbelief. He still refused to look her in the eyes.

"I never meant to-" Dakota started, but was quickly cut off.

"No, no I know, but," Winston interrupted her, sighing sadly, searching for the right words, before continuing " Look, Dakota, I've always trusted you, always done things your way, but your way always ends the same, and I can't put up with this kind of emotional rollercoaster we go through every time you go and nearly get yourself killed. I know you only do what you think is right, only do something because you think it's the only way, but I'm drawing the line here. You're wrong this time. I'm not letting that thing in, I'm not letting it jeopardize me, you, and everyone else just because you want to do things your way again."

His words slammed into Dakota harshly, the emotional intensity behind them truly telling of the kind of mental state Winston was in. Dakota and Winston had traveled together for years, wandering the world, and in that time, she had only ever seen him brought to tears once before. It was just as worrying then as it was now.

If she wasn't completely stunned before, she froze solid as Winston finally dared to look her straight in the face, his icy blue eyes clashing with her emerald ones. The kind of deep pain in his eyes, pain she had caused, blew her away. The stress mixed with frustration , anger and defiance in his eyes, all melded into a withering gaze that truly pierced Dakota. She had to look away from him, unable to continue looking into his pained soul.

"Winston I'm, I'm so sorry. I never realized, I just, I always thought ..." Dakota was starting to tear up herself. She could barely hold back her own emotions, memories of her travels with Winston pushing themselves to the forefront of her train of thought. Every time they had been separated, every time she had stayed behind to buy him time to escape, every time they finally met back up ... every time, that same, forced smile on his face, like he was hiding something. She felt her memories shift, tinting a shade deeper, a bit darker. Her past seemed to grow teeth only to sink them into her hide.

She had never much cared for her own safety, putting others before herself, never even stopping to consider how others might feel if she never came back, always focusing on doing what had to be done instead. It was a lot to think about, and the more she thought about it, the worse she felt about her past actions. She suddenly lost her will to speak.

"Dakota, just ... just put that thing down, and we'll be done with this" Winston said, his trembling voice chilling Dakota to the bone as he spoke. She registered the words, but she didn't want to hear them, each one sending an icy tremor down her spine as she flicked her eyes to Skell's nearly motionless form in her arms. She watched his chest rise and fall weakly, his labored breathing muffled by his mask, the acrid stench still assaulting her nostrils reminding her of what he had done.

Winston was right to be wary of him. Dakota was suddenly feeling terrible about herself, feeling like she owed it to Winston to just give up and kill Skell, just to spare him any more trauma. She battled with herself, realizing that no matter what choice she made, it was the wrong one. If she killed Skell, she would be betraying someone who had not only saved her life, but could actually stand up to the minotaurs in combat. She would be throwing away her only chance of ever being able to feel safe in her own den.

On the other paw, if she somehow managed to convince Winston to accept and spare Skell, she'd have to live with the fact that she was perpetuating Winston's suffering, along with proving him right that she did think she always had the answers, always had to do things her way. She sighed exasperatedly, mustering a weak smile as she looked back up into Winston's eyes.

"Winston, I'm so sorry, for everything I've put you through. I-I can't even begin to imagine how much of a jerk you must think I am right now but ... we have to give Skell a chance. It's not because I trust him Winston, it's not because I even want to keep him around, it's because we need him," She was going to regret her choice either way, so she figured that at least this way, nobody had to die, or so she hoped. Winston was about to retort, but she intervened, cutting him off before he could even begin.

"You saw how many of them there were, you can see the kind of trouble we're in now. We're not running from far flung patrols anymore, they're actively trying to kill us. Can't you see how much they want us dead? They sent real, proper soldiers after us! These aren't volunteer militia like before. I ... I can't handle this on my own anymore, I can't protect us from that many," Dakota finished, pushing aside all of her thoughts and completely throwing herself into her argument, her words resonating with impassioned emotion. She was still staring into Winston's eyes, the two of them fighting for dominance as Winston took a step back, looking away. He had managed to get his emotions somewhat under control, but his voice still trembled as he spoke.

"Then get Buster and Baxter to help you. I'll help you. We're in this together Dakota, that was the whole point of settling down here, so we'd have others to back us up if we needed it. We stand together. We fight together."

"But we don't have to! That's what you're not getting. I don't want to force y'all into fighting. That's the whole reason I volunteered to be the scavenger of the pack so y'all could sit tight, nice and safe in the den. I tried, hard as I could to keep everyone away from danger," Dakota fired back, frustrated with Winston's stubbornness. He was making a noble gesture, but a naieve one all the same. He knew just as well as she did that Buster and Baxter wouldn't last long in a fight against minotaurs, it just wasn't in their nature, and it wasn't in his either.

He wasn't made for fighting.

"All you'd be accomplishing by throwing the rest of the pack into battle would be getting us all slaughtered, and I'm sorry Winston, but no matter how badly I've hurt you, I'm not gonna let you think for even one second that this idea of yours will work. We're not soldiers! We ran away from our pack precisely because they tried to force us into that lifestyle, and now, you want to try and convince me that they were right all along?" Dakota said, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. She hated arguing with Winston, especially after all the pain she'd put him through. It wasn't fair to him, and it hurt her that she had to stand by her choice. She had to stand by Skell.

A long, drawn out sigh permeated the den entrance as Winston's demeanor shifted noticeably, his shoulders relaxing, his posture easing up. He slumped up against the cave wall to his right, still looking down at the ground as he spoke.

"Fine, just ... just keep that thing away from the others. If you're bringing it in, you're hosting it. Keep it in your room, and away from me," Winston conceded as he motioned with one paw to allow her in.

Dakota's soft gaze lingered on Winston, trying to get him to look at her, but after a silent moment, she simply sighed.

"Thank you ..." she almost whispered, her quavering, grateful voice filled with guilt. She took an uneasy step forward, eyeing Winston intently as she did so. He didn't move, his deflated form remaining slumped up against the wall. He refused to look at her.

Swallowing her emotions, Dakota continued on past him, the sound of her steps the only noise accompanying her as she walked. Winston vanished as she passed him. She couldn't bear to glance over her shoulder to look at him, so she just kept her head to the ground, ashamed of herself.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry ...

She repeated it to herself, over and over in her mind, trying to wrench truth out of them. She tried to convince herself that she meant what she said and thought, but found herself questioning her authenticity. How could she truly be sorry if even after all that, everything Winston had said, she still kept on doing things her way?

Dakota felt a terrible, creeping sensation sweep over her as she plodded down the entrance hall. Her head was swimming and her emotions battled for control of her against her logical mind, which kept trying to reassure her that this was the best choice she could have made. She began to feel very dizzy, her self loathing and doubt starting to close in on her, paralyzing her. Each step was harder, more deliberate and forced than the last.

The short trot down the hall to the central room of the den felt like a walk of shame. She did not greet Buster or Baxter sitting beside the crackling fire burning in the hearth, nor did she respond to them as they leapt up to embrace her. She brushed past them, her gemstone radiating a crimson glow, the circular door to her room grinding open and then slamming shut behind her as she sealed herself inside.

She set Skell down on her makeshift bed of straw, hides, and furs with a ginger precision, letting his heft slip away from her arms only to be replaced by an intangible weight saddling her shoulders. His set of blades clattered to the ground, Dakota releasing them with a weary sigh before combing over the lithe monster before her, unbuckling anything that wasnt bolted onto his armor and piling it into an organized mess on the floor.

Dakota flopped down onto the floor beside her bed, letting her head rest against the wall, gazing up at the ceiling. Her eyes unfocused, staring at the rough stone as she braced herself.

And she waited.