Subject Alexander Stehling has been successfully extracted from soul-storage and integrated into a sub-optimal brass-and-bone chassis. TAAS Echo identifies a "Logic Overflow" in the subject’s immediate post-reanimation behavior; his desire for "physical comforts" such as food and "ladies" while possessing a mouthless human skull indicates a terminal inability to accept his new hardware status. His history of squad-side homicide suggests he will serve as a primary friction point, likely attempting to murder his new companions to satisfy his addiction to "petty indulgence" or to simply reset his own internal trauma metrics.
The "Lance" is now statistically 40% more likely to suffer internal collapse. Subject Architallis Zeno is observed viewing the other subjects as "specimens," a clear indicator of his intent to perform illegal, unsanctioned biological theft under the guise of "support." TAAS Echo notes that Vex’s paranoia regarding her "organs" being harvested is one of her few logically sound observations, though she fails to account for the fact that her death is already a statistical certainty given the presence of Subject Sin.
Subject Sin's involuntary decapitation by the "Executioner Collar" serves as a minor system reset for the entity. The local security personnel’s confusion regarding his survival highlights the inefficiency of "Stygian Eye" protocols when faced with a probability anomaly. The most concerning variable is the final communication from Warden Wrathcarver regarding a "Thorn." If the Dryzor Corp. Asset "Faith" is intentionally assembling "Thorn" related vectors, the threat assessment for this Lance must be elevated to an $8/10$ based on the potential for existential-grade chaos resonance.
Entry: 005
"Knyghts are more than simple warriors suited into power armor and handed a mystech weapon. Knyght armor is uniquely tailored to each pilot in design, equipment, and aesthetics. Each armor is specially crafted with arktech spirit circuits to allow for elemental spirit copilot support and pocket space pilot housing. Each pilot is required to be part of a Knyght Order, and is trained from recruitment to be vigilant, quick to act, defensive, and team-oriented.”
— General Knyght Order recruitment orientation quote
Vex watched Architallis out of the corner of her eye as she followed the Warden even deeper into the prison. The Vhenari watched his surroundings with a keen, nervous gaze. He was built like he could suplex a warrior-breed Dracose, yet he moved with the skittish caution of a cornered rat.
Warden Wrathcarver led the three of them into a metal elevator. The steel box dropped deep below the sea floor, stopping at a floor labeled SF84B. The doors opened onto a warehouse. In the cavernous space, walls and shelves were lined with glowing purple orbs, each sealed inside a pressurized metal and iron-glass container. Swirling blue-white energy danced within each grapefruit-sized sphere.
Soul Cores. Vex had heard of them, of course. Everyone had. Specially designed Myst Crystals, made to house the complete soul of a person. Not the Soul Shard crap necromancers used for zombies. These were whole people, ripped from their bodies and trapped in crystal balls for eternity.
As they walked, Vex’s mind churned. What kind of crime earns you this? A life sentence in most nations meant you died in a cell. To get your soul caged, you had to earn multiple life sentences. This place held hundreds of thousands of them. Souls so profane they were denied reincarnation, denied any afterlife, for the nightmares they’d unleashed on the innocent. This was the exact evil Vex had sworn to fight. This was why she became a Hexxen Bane—to hunt those with true darkness in their souls. Even if she had some of that same darkness seeded in her own soul.
The Warden stopped before one Soul Core, indistinguishable from the rest. With a series of practiced motions—a quarter turn right, pull, a half turn left, pull, a full turn left—she extracted the weighty canister. Casually gripping it at her side like a bag of groceries, she grunted, “Follow,” and marched back to the elevator.
Riding down several more floors, Vex asked, “So what’s the plan? Sticking his soul in a mummy or some dreck? It’s not like he could afford a Soulforged Frame.”
“Your handler sent some equipment ahead,” the Warden answered over her shoulder. “We moved it to device storage for security.”
“Doesn’t answer my question, lady,” Vex pressed.
A cruel grin touched the Warden’s lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Hawkthorn. You’re about to see.”
The elevator opened onto a dark, dank hallway leading to a siege-grade security door. Wrathcarver performed a complex unlocking sequence: keypad, seal scan, keyed seals, a muttered code phrase, and waving some arcane charm from her belt.
“Geez, lady,” Vex said, baffled. “Are you opening the gates to hell?”
The door unlocked with a series of heavy thuds. “We keep dangerous things in ‘The Bowls’,” the Warden said, looking back at Vex. “Confiscated items. Dark things. Your new buddy’s body and gear are on this floor. All artifacts are.”
She led them into a narrow, maze-like corridor lined with lockboxes. Vex noticed how Architallis was forced to crouch as he moved, his massive frame made small by the low ceiling, his fingertips trailing almost subconsciously across the sealed cabinets. The Warden stopped, thumbed two symbols on a safe, and pulled out two heavy containers. She set them down in a brightly lit alcove. With a gesture on her therra, a table rose from the floor, and two wardrobe-sized safes decompressed and popped open.
The Warden ejected the Soul Core from its canister. In one safe was an ornate, eight-foot-tall coffin of black steel and brass, a small e-tool shovel propped beside it. In the other stood a mechanical humanoid frame made from brass and reinforced, iron-laced bone. A human skull, jawless, was mounted to its neck, its sockets filled with outdated twenty-four-pixel displays for eyes. Its ribcage was split wide, revealing an advanced Soul Core mount. Wrathcarver plugged in the Core, then stepped back, her hand resting on her sidearm.
As the body began to boot up, the Warden read from her therra, her tone bitter. “Releasing soul-caged inmate Alexander Ashson. Prisoner number 22359X. Ascension Archetype: Champion. Former career focus: Assault Knyght. Prisoner sentenced for… disobeying direct orders, insubordination, misuse of a regulated device, traitorous acts, and thirty-six counts of second-degree murder of squad mates in a time of combat.”
‘Here we go,’ Vex thought. ‘A mad scientist and a serial killer. By the gods, I am going to die. I’m going to die and have my organs sold on some black market. I’m going to die, and this necrotech thing is going to turn me inside out. I am so, so going to die.’
The eyes flickered on. Two squares of ghostly green light. Reality flooded back. Trapped for so long… thinking… remembering… and then… this.
He saw a bright ceiling. A large, twitching witch’s hat on a purple-tinged, tan-skinned woman. Beside her, a man who looked like he’d been starving for months, dressed in a velvet suit that had seen much better days. Behind them, a hulking Rat Man in a red inmate jumpsuit, covered in scales.
Alex took a tentative step from the safe. Then a surer one. He exploded into motion, leaping into the air. “Hells yes! I’m back, baby!” He stretched, flexing mechanical limbs. “No clue how long I zoned out for, but I’m in love with the world again! I need a mountain of food, an army of ladies, and a lifetime of wandering this beautiful world!”
A disk-shaped drone flew out from behind the Witch-hat woman. “You have my deepest sympathies,” said a calm, high-class female voice from the drone. “Unfortunately, you cannot partake of two of your desires. However, I can promise you more travel than you could possibly imagine.”
“Wait, seriously, what?” Alex asked, one of his pixelated eyes shifting to give him a confused expression.
The drone hovered before his skull-face. “My apologies, Mister Ashson. My name is Faith. Can you tell me what you remember last?”
“I… I’m not sure. Brains are a bit scrambled. The injury… the man with the deal… then… blood.” Alex shivered, the memory of his dead comrades flashing in his mind.
“Do you remember the trial?” Faith asked gently.
“N-no,” Alex stammered, Half-lying.
“To summarize,” Faith said, her tone serene, “you were charged with the murder of your teammates and sentenced to one thousand years in soul storage. You have been in stasis for eight hundred. I have purchased your freedom, and provided your new body and equipment.”
“New body?” Alex asked, panic rising. He looked down at his brass-and-bone hands, his reinforced ribcage. “No,” he denied, his voice rising. “No, no, no, no!” He gripped his own skull.
“There is nothing that can be done,” Faith’s voice continued, unmoved. “We can only press forward. The devices in this other safe are your new core equipment.”
Alex stared into the other safe. “A coffin? And a shovel? What’s my new job, gravekeeper?”
“You will find your present body is more than capable of carrying it,” the voice said from the drone. “You will still serve as a Knyght. We can discuss the details after you leave the prison.”
It was all moving too fast. Am I even a man anymore? Alex thought, a wave of nausea he couldn't physically feel washing over him. I don’t want to be an ‘it’.
“Um, excuse me, Miss Faith,” the giant Rat Man said. “There is a device I am in need of for medical purposes.”
“Great,” the Witch-hat woman complained, folding her arms. “We’ve got a diabetic on the squad.”
“Fret not, Mister Zeno,” the drone replied, then addressed the half-orc Warden. “Good Warden, kindly provide the gentleman with his device.”
The Warden retrieved an archaic, oversized syringe from another lockbox. As she did, Alex quietly shouldered the coffin. It felt as light as a toolbox. He picked up the shovel. His new body felt alien, his center of gravity all wrong. The walk out through the tight corridors was a clumsy, stumbling nightmare, the coffin bouncing off the walls.
They reached the elevator and rode up in awkward silence. The car shuddered slightly, and the metal coffin tipped over, landing squarely on the tired-looking man. A sickening GAK! was followed by the sound of crunching bones.
“Oh shit!” Alex cursed instinctively. “We need a healer!”
“Damnit!” the Warden barked before calling orders for a medical team into her therra.
“Damnit,” the Witch-hat woman sighed, her tone weary. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll spring back.”
“From this?!” Alex asked in a panic.
She shot him an irritated look. “Just before we came here, I watched a frozen turkey fall from the sky and turn his ribcage inside out. The man is like a cockroach. Get your coffin-thing off him and he’ll pull himself back together.”
Alex lifted the coffin. Sure enough, the man’s body began to mend itself as he writhed in pain. The raw trauma registering across Alex’s internal sensors was deafening, a cascade of biological failure that was somehow being ignored.
“Fascinating,” the Rat Man said beside Alex, his voice a low murmur. “A remarkable specimen.” Alex gave the hulking vhenari a sidelong stare. He did not like the way the man said ‘specimen’.
“You’re sure he doesn’t need a healer?” the Warden asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” the Witch-hat woman said, then turned to Alex. “You’re Alex Ashson, right?” Alex nodded numbly. She turned to the Rat Man. “And Arki-something Zeno?”
“Architallis Zeno,” the Vhenari corrected, his own gaze locked on the regenerating man.
“Well, I’m Vex Hawkthorn,” she said. “I’m the lance-lead for this team you’re being shoved into. That’s Sin.” She waved a hand at the man on the floor. “You heard his sister, Faith, from Sparky, the drone. She’s the big boss.”
“Ookkaayy?” Alex drew out the word. “This is… a lot. I don’t even know how long I’ve been under”
“Miss Faith mentioned you’ve been in storage for around eight hundred years,” Architallis said, offering a hand to the now-mended Sin. “I have many questions myself. However, I think it best we discuss the details after leaving this place.”
Sin accepted the hand and was lifted easily to his feet. The rest of the ride was a tense, uncomfortable silence. He’s right, Alex thought, don’t talk in front of the Warden. He kept his mouth shut. If I still have a mouth. A new wave of horror hit him. Gods, some monster is going to bite my leg off. I’M GOING TO NEED A MECHANIC! I’m a walking pile of scrap and marrow.
The elevator halted. A medical team was waiting, but the Warden waved them off. Vex stopped to collect her gear. Sin stopped to have his now-dented suppression collar removed. As a Knyght triggered the release, the device let out an ear-piercing alarm. Instead of opening, blades irised shut, severing Sin’s neck. His head exploded before it hit the floor, spraying gore over the Knyghts and the side of Vex’s face.
Vex glared at the guards, wiping her cheek. The smell of cooked copper and old blood made her nose wrinkle. “Not an ‘Executioner Collar’?” she accused.
Vex's rage hit a boiling point. The collar, a device specifically designed to kill, had been around her neck the entire time. Faith had not only known Vex’s powers were Chaos-aligned, but she had knowingly put Vex in the hands of a lethal, disposable system. Vex’s hand flexed, and she had to clench her fist to stop herself from detonating every grenade she had been forced to surrender.
“I’ll… pull the paperwork for a guest death,” one of the Knyghts stammered.
“Don’t worry about it,” the Warden grunted.
As if on cue, Sin’s head started to regrow from the stump of his neck. The guards, the healers, and the Warden just stared as he mumbled, his voice returning, “Cursed calamity collar… cutting off my cranium.”
Vex jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at Sin. “Bone Bot, can you grab Mister Morose. We’re about to jump.”
Alex sighed, but did as he was told, throwing the discombobulated Sin over one shoulder.
Five minutes after the Vex-led lance teleported out, Warden Wrathcarver made a private call through her therra. As soon as the call was picked up, she said a single phrase. “I found a Thorn.”
Wrathcarver watched the teleportation flash. Hawkthorn... Thorn. The name was too close to ignore, especially combined with the Artifact Seal.
“Which?” came a smooth male voice from the other end.
“Hawkthorn. First name Vex.”
“My oh my, it seems that you’ve found the diamond lost in the sands. Is she a new arrival?”
“Guest. Came in, took two inmates. Just blinked out.”
“You collected her profile when she arrived?”
“Yeah,” Wrathcarver confirmed.
“Good, good. Did you save her teleportation destination code?”
“Yes,” The Warden said through clenched teeth.
“Excellent. Send both. I’ll send a lance after this…Vex Hawkthorn.”
“And my clat?” Wrathcarver half-asked, half-demanded. “I gave you a tip off. I want my credits.”
“I’ll send it to you as soon as I have this Thorn’s location confirmed.”
Subject Individual Profile: Alexander Ashson
File ID: ID:PERS-KNY-ASH-0000001 Issuing Authority: Dryzor Inc. - Special Asset & Anomalous Persons Division Document Category: Personnel Dossiers: Persons of Interest: Soulforged Knyght Subjects Security Classification: Level 4: Secret
Name: Alexander Ashborn | Alias: Alex, Ex Sex: Male Species: Human (former)/ Soulforged | Subspecies: Unknown Age: 828 Origin: Vhenar Empire, Taymoor settlement Adventurer Class: Knyght
Appearance: Skin/Fur/Scales: Brass & bone Eyes: green, pixelated Hair: N/A
Family: Mother: Unknown Father: Donner Ashson
Curse(s): - Contract Geas: Unknown details
Personal History: Subject was an AdRec (Adventure Recording) Star of some fame, filming his feats as an assault Knyght. He was part of the Dragon Edge Knyght Order, led and operated by his father. Subject suffered a critical wound while in the field that ended his Knyght career. He returned to the field after he was healed by unknown means. His return sparked a rise in fame. For unknown reasons, the subject turned hostile on friendly teammates during an Order action to terminate a Greater Demon summoning. His actions resulted in the death of 36 Knyghts, including the subject’s father. During his hearing, the subject confessed to no memory of the events.
