Relias: Uprising
Authors: M.J Kreyzer
Relias
By M.J Kreyzer
Relias
Copyright © 2012 Mitchell R. Jones
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Table of Contents
Havok
The History of Havok
Races
Organizations
The United Commune
The First Legionnaire
Elemental
Religions
Major Events
Modern Figures
Historical Figures
Weapons
Science and Technology
Cities
Languages
Wildlife
General Reference
Chapter One
265, Modern Industrial Epoch
It had been six years, and the unrelenting darkness of the ten by ten cement prison cell had become all too familiar. The darkness was palpable, like the deep, inky black of an oil slick, and weeks would pass without so much as a glimpse of sunlight.
To Luke Semprys, these facts were trivial. Or at least that is what they had become. Every day that passed further defined his tortured existence, bleeding him of the love and compassion that he once had. For more than half a decade, the only human contact he had had was with the scientists who studied and dissected him in the lab and the Legionnaire soldiers who escorted him there. Now, with the Durant race facing extinction, his wife and son dead, and the open world being nothing more to him than a pleasant fantasy, the place in his heart that once made room for his friends and family was now nearing repletion, with what little space that remained allowing room for two people. The first, representing what little love he had left in him, was his daughter, Tess. She was his reason for living, for hanging on. Life had little consequence to Luke; the thought of his daughter being helpless and alone beneath the brutal and despotic tyranny of the Commune did. The other person, occupying a space much darker and far more malevolent, was a demonic sadist known as Vladmir Frenz. And if Luke escaped this place for anything other than protecting his daughter, it would be to rip this man’s heart out, if he had one, as well as tearing every Legionnaire soldier limb from blood-soaked limb and making it perfectly clear that evil, eventually, is met with equal and opposing consequence.
Then it just happened, a sudden burst of chaos somewhere distant beyond the confines of his cell. Explosions, gunfire, and the screaming engines of fighter craft. He knew it was an attack on the city, but as Luke assumed that the world considered him dead, he was convinced it wasn’t for him.
An hour passed and the noise outside only intensified. And just as Luke had settled on the fact that he wouldn’t be going anywhere, it happened.
There was a struggle outside his door. Gunshots, shouting. One voice was cut off in mid-sentence. The other pled for mercy. There was a brutal pounding against the door. The pleas went silent.
“Help me out here.” Came a quiet, muffled voice from the other side of the door as there was a metallic clattering against it. “You got the charges?”
There was a deep, mischievous chuckle that answered the question, followed by a booming drub that hit the door like a deep, metal drum.
“Back up.” Came the first voice again.
“I was actually gonna stand right here before you told me that.” The deeper voice said amidst an immature laugh that came in reply. Their footsteps moved away from the door. Everything went silent once more.
“Blow it!”
A shockwave rebounded along the cell wall and caused Luke’s brain to reverberate within his skull. Nothing muffled the deafening explosion; it drove into Luke’s ears like a white-hot rusty nail and made them ring. It was the most welcoming sound he could have heard.
The door bent and Luke heard the wheels on its sliding track crumble. The broken door groaned as the first man tried to move it. “Come on…” He coaxed it. “Can’t even… Morlo! Quit pickin’ your crack and get over here and help!”
“Comin’, comin’, you whiny little…”
The voice trailed off and the door budged. A white sliver of light shot across the floor, piercing the darkness and, as it did, a large set of fingers could be seen clasping the doors edges.
“This is what you couldn’t move?” Morlo said, his voice now clearer. “You’re serious?”
“Just another thing that makes it obvious that you were blessed with strength and nothing else.”
Morlo laughed and pulled harder. The door groaned against its supports. With a grunt it was ripped clean and the sliver of light became a blinding, searing column. A man in a metallic armored vest and mechanical devices strapped to his flame-tattooed forearms stepped into the light. His face was hidden behind a mask a matte-grey steel skull of a wolf with glossy black lenses placed in the eye sockets. With his inky, uncaring eyes scanning the room, the man appeared more as a predator than he did an ally.
“Luke, it’s Hendrick.” He said combing the darkness as his eyes adjusted. “I swear this cell better be yours this time.”
There was a shuffling of thin clothing and skin rubbing against cement. Bare foot steps approached the light and stopped. With half of his scruffy, grizzled face in the light, Luke stopped and stared, the irises of his sightless eyes were blood red in color, hateful, and filled with purpose. Hendrick nodded and smiled with satisfaction. He looked back to the door. “Got ya.” Hendrick muttered to himself. He nodded towards the door as an indication for Luke to follow. “Come on, we don’t got much time so… suck me down to bloody…”
Luke’s body came into light. A tissue thin pair of prison pants far too large for him were fastened crudely around his waist. His muscles, though well-shaped, had lost considerable mass. They drew deep, dark shadows revealing every sinewy shape on his body. Though his survival was a surprise at the severe degree of his malnourishment, it was the scars, the dense, morbid patchwork that covered his body, that drew shock. Regardless of his frail appearance, Luke stood up straight, shoulders squared and head held high, looking remarkably dignified.
Almost as though his mask were distorting reality, Hendrick removed it to see the scars for himself. Without the mask, his goatee and crazed, wild eyes now in view, it was clear that this was, in fact, Nathan Hendrick. Hendrick snapped his fingers and pointed towards Luke while looking behind him. “Get him his stuff, will ya?”
“Yes
sir
.” Came the booming voice, laced with sarcasm. Heavy footsteps approached from the outside.
Light blocked the entrance as a heavily armored giant, a beast of a man known as Morlo Greyhorn, ducked through the doorway and entered the room with a large pack in hand and a flood light mounted on one shoulder pad. He was massive, standing a solid ten and a half feet tall. His shoulders were as wide as Hendrick was tall, and even for his size his arms were disproportionately large. In one enormous hand he clutched a handle on a six-barreled chain gun larger than Hendrick, its weight causing even Morlo’s shoulders to sag. With the dark, cramped room illuminated, his face turned to surprise as he looked the room over. “Well this couldn’t have been fun.”
Luke paid the comment no mind and started towards the door. He took just one step before stumbling. His hand immediately found the wall to support himself as Hendrick grabbed his other arm.
“You gonna be able to run?” Hendrick asked while ushering Morlo over to help. “Bring him that stuff we packed up for him.”
Morlo plunged one hand into the large pack he bore, rummaging around and removing a small plastic gel pack and a bottle of water. Luke took it gratefully and first started with the gel pack, removing the top and squeezing the contents into his mouth.
“We thought we should water down the calorie pack a bit.” Hendrick explained, checking his watch. “Figured you wouldn’t have eaten much in the last little bit so we didn’t want the sudden influx to send you into a food coma.”
“Happened before.” Morlo said with a rough chuckle.
Luke waved him away and shook off Hendrick, putting a hand on one leg to give himself support. “I’ll be fine.” He said in a rough voice, taking deep, relieving swallows from the bottle of water. “Just give me something to kill with.”
Hendrick nodded towards Morlo. “You heard ‘im.” He said as he led them all out the door.
Luke took several steps into the glowing ocean of white outside. His legs still weak, he placed a hand on the wall to stabilize himself as he used his sense to get his bearings. The long bending hallway was lined with other cells similar to Luke’s and curved out of sight. On one side of the hallway through the transparent steel windows, the rising sun cast the city beneath an amber hue. Gunships soared through the wispy clouds, glowing lines of bullets streaked to the sky, and the streets were filled with soldiers from both sides battling fiercely against one another in a violent, chaotic struggle.
It was a surreal and ethereal sensation. The bright light and his dizzying nausea only added to the effect. But he was free, and that sensation greatly overpowered anything else he was currently feeling. And with the sudden gift of his newfound freedom, a thousand different possibilities wedged their way into his thoughts. But after a moment of composing himself and organizing his thoughts, his first thought came to mind: kill.