It came from HP's head... *MATURE CONTENT WARNING*
Posted: Mon May 03, 2010 2:42 pm
Hey, all. I have a confession to make: I am a big kid. Much like little kids, I like to come up with stories involving my toys. Of course, at 24, the stories I come up now with are probably a bit more involved than what I might've come up with when I was 8. And, naturally, stories involving the Busou Shinki would end up being more complex and mature than those that involved my Transformers. I think what I'm going to put here will be a bit different from what most of you are used to seeing regarding Shinki. For one thing, the girls in this fiction are human-sized, and most try to blend into human society, so those expecting a "we live in Master's room and fight in Battle Rondo!" will end up being a bit surprised.
Oh? You're wondering about that "mature content warning?" I'll say right off the bat, it's not sex. Well, there could be some sexual themes if I get around to Graffias and Vespelio, but, being glorified androids, Busou Shinki have no proper sexual definition, and, as such, do not engage in intercourse. The mature content comes mostly in the form of language. Under times of frustration or stress, there will be coarse language. The rest of it is in a few gruesome scenes depicting severe injury. I try to tone these down, but they do happen. I plan on doing mostly shorts that focus on one or two Shinki, and maybe writing bios to share the rest of the information you won't get out of one short story, such as armor and weapon specs.
Following is a testing of waters. This Arnval story will be left uncensored for the time being, but I will gladly change that at a moderator's request. I hope you enjoy it!
***Arnval: The Burden of Responsibility***
It's a typical week. Some hostile force from beyond the Sol System decided that Earth is some sort of threat; either that or they just like to see random destruction. The latter seems more likely. Instead of attacking from space, small groups formed localized raids to burn and pillage. These were either pirates or punk kids with nothing better to do. They came in fast, but not hard enough to pose too much of a threat. In fact, each group has already been dispatched quickly and efficiently. There is some property damage, but it seems no one is severely hurt. In one particular suburb, a blond girl in gleaming white armor hovers, surveying the scene. It is this Angel that vanquished the space pirates from this neighborhood. All in a day's work. Just doing my job, ma'am. Part of the town blazes into the sky, but the houses are vacan-- huh?
While watching the fires, the girl sees something that shouldn't be there. Her eyes, fitted with telescopic vision and the ability to detect life, spot a young girl in one of the burning houses. She cries on the bottom floor while the top burns. Structural collapse immanent, that little girl needs help, now. The bio-mechanical Angel fires up her solid rocket boosters. At the same time, the top floor comes down. At full speed, it would take the Angel less than half a second to come to the girl's aid, but from a full stop, it will take the her 1.5 to 2 seconds to cover the distance. But that doesn't matter this time. In less than a second, the girl will die. The Angel's eyes analyze the girl's face. Sandra Deerlove, age seven, attends the local elementary school, makes the highest marks in her second grade class, and, according to her ballet records, will reach full point in less than a year. Youth, innocence, the foundation for success in her adult life: it means nothing. The Angel watches as her target's head crumples beneath the weight of the burning wreckage. Sandra dies instantly. The Angel doesn't even have the ability to pull out her injured body and state that she'll be alright. She is close enough to hear the Deerloves scream in terror.
"My baby! My baby girl!," Mrs. Deerlove pleads to the Angel, "You have to get her out of there; she'll die!"
"Please, Arnval," Mr. Deerlove echoes his wife's sentiments, "Please save our daughter."
Arnval stares at the couple wide-eyed. "I... I can't," she whispers. Mrs. Deerlove only stares at Arnval open-mouthed, as if the Angel had just said something outrageous.
"Excuse me?," Mr. Deerlove demands, "What do you mean, 'you can't?' My daughter is in that fire and you're just going to sit here and watch it - watch her burn?! You're one of those goddamn robots! That fire won't even phase you! What kind of Angel doesn't help out a girl in need?!"
Arnval places her hand on his shoulder, closes her eyes and shook her head and repeats, "I can't."
Hysterical now, Mr. Deerlove shoves Arnval's hand away. "Don't you dare tell me 'you can't!' Sandra! SANDRA!"
Mrs. Deerlove already knows; her maternal instinct kicked in after Arnval's first whisper. But, in her mind, the Angel didn't fail, she had just exacted the will of God. Such is the work of an Angel. Arnval now stands with one hand over her mouth and one arm across her torso; tears stream down her face. Mrs. Deerlove approaches her.
"He has a plan for us, right?," she pleads. Arnval snaps out of her daze.
"W-what?"
"God. He has a plan for me and my husband, right? H-he must! H-he wouldn't ju-just t-take our little girl from us for no reason, right?" Mrs. Deerlove's eyes plead for answers. "Yo-you're one of His Angels. Puh-please, just tell muh-me there's some good to come from th-this." She can hardly speak through her sobbing.
In response to this, Arnval falls to her knees and sobs with the ferocity of Mrs. Deerlove herself. The flight stabilizers on her knees dig into the Deerlove's front lawn. Her wings, still a luminous white against the billowing black smoke, sag to the ground, dragging the boosters that failed her earlier behind them. This day, MMS Type Angel: Arnval, fails.
***
Three weeks later, Arnval makes a special point to attend Sandra Deerlove's funeural, a closed-casket event. No one recognizes her without her armor. Of course, the black veil helps this matter. During the service, she cries as if she knew Sandra. That's all Arnval can do for the girl she could not save. After the service, Arnval pays final respects at the casket and leaves a boquet of white roses. On her way out, she overhears Mr. Deerlove talking with some of the attendees.
"You know, one of those robot girls was there," he sneers.
"You mean those Busou Shinki?" one asks him, as if there were other robot girls walking around."Which one?"
"The leader, of all things! You know, the 'Angel.'" Mr. Deerlove makes air quotes on the word "Angel."
"Well, didn't she help out?," another asks, slightly dumbfounded.
"Oh, she helped, alright! She helped make sure there was a funeural for a seven-year-old-girl today!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean she was there and didn't do a damn thing after those... space... things... were gone. It was like she was off-duty after that. She wouldn't go in and get Sandra out of there!"
"That's terrible!"
Having heard enough, Arnval leaves. A car waits for her. She climbs into the back seat. From the rear view mirror, red eyes peer at her inquisitively.
"You done?," the driver inquires.
Arnval lets out a deep sigh. "Yeah, I guess so. Let's just go home, huh?"
"Well?," the driver digs as she pulls the car out of the funeural parking lot.
"Well what?," Arnval replies sharply.
"Chill, girl, geez. 'Welllll' did you talk to them? You know, the parents."
"No, I didn't talk to anyone. In fact, the dad blames me."
"Ouch. That bites. So I guess they didn't even mention you during the service?"
"Yeah, the mom did. She kept on insisting that 'God has a plan for them because that Angel showed up.'"
"Doesn't that ever get on your nerves?"
"All the fucking time!," Arnval suddenly bursts out. The driver's last question makes something snap. "Everyone thinks that I'm some fucking symbol of their God sent down from heaven to deliver them from disaster and sin and other bad... stuff... that... Shit! I don't even fucking know anymore! I just know that I'm not what at least half of them think I am! I'm sick and fucking tired of people expecting goddamn miracles because the 'Angel' is on the scene. I mean, I want to help them and all, but it's not like I'm perfect! It's not like I can catch every little thing that goes wrong! Shit happens, you know? Hell, maybe God does have a plan for her, I don't fucking know."
"Wow," the driver replies after a short pause, "that wasn't very Angelic at all. You need to work on that mouth, young lady."
At first, Arnval's rage increases tenfold at this, but then, she sees her sister's eyes in the rear view mirror. Strarf, ever playful, grins back at her raging sister. Arnval's anger dissipates almost instantly. she lowers her face to meet her palm as she lets out a stifled laugh disguised as a sigh. "I hate you so goddamn much right now, you know that, right, Strarf?"
"Yep!," Strarf chirps in response, "Glad I could help!"
The unlikely sisters arrive at their home: an unassuming house in a quiet suburb. There is no secret basement hanger, no hidden laboratory, nothing suspicious at all. Well, nothing save for the fact that the two women share the house and never bring any men home. Otherwise, they are generally well-liked by their neighbors and known in their community. Under the name Annie, Arnval manages the local grocery store. Strarf, under the name Steph(-anie), works in the music and movie store at the mall in the nearby town. Now, Arnval and Strarf enter their home and shed their disguises. Their "skin" changes color and consistency and areas that were once contiguous give way to mechanical joints, seams, and bolts.
"Sorry about that, Strarf," Arnval says while pinching the bridge of her nose, "And thanks for letting me vent."
"No problem!," Strarf winks at her sister, "What are sisters for if not driving to some random kid's funeral and then getting yelled at?"
"Shut up; I wasn't yelling at you, you just happened to be the only one around. Anyway, I'm taking a bath."
Arnval naturally has no need of baths, but the water soothes her. The warm wetness embraces her body and she loses herself in thought. What might they think? How would they react if they knew that the Angel's closest friend was the Devil herself? Is it worth going to Cid to change her armor? Would it do any good? More importantly, would it do any harm? Why do these people even matter? They're just humans, after all. So what if they see her as some holy messenger? So what if they see her as the Valkyrie of judgment? So what if her appearance makes them feel safe, gives them a glimmer of hope, tells them that there's a good chance of making it throu- Oh.
That's it. That's why Arnval is so important. Her white wings, her helm's golden ring, even her fair-skinned, youthful face: these act as symbols of salvation to many of them. No matter how many Busou Shinki show up, they look to her, the Angel. Without the Angel, where would they turn? The Knight, perhaps, but Queen Xiphos can't be on the front lines near as much as she might like. None of the other Shinki bear the responsibility of representing the peoples' hope. But who decided this burdon should fall on her? She realizes, though, that if not her, then another would have to wear the Angel armor. Who could she possibly wish that upon? not even her worst enemy. Besides, she's best suited for the job.
As she drains the bathtub, she decides to grin and bear it. She has her sister, who always puts up with her crap, and her extended family in the Royal Guard. Those are the people who matter most to her. She hugs her sister tightly and says, "I won't give up here."
"And if you ever do, I'll be right there to beat the motivation right back into you."
"Good. I'm counting on you, Strarf."
"Whoa, whoa, that's a lot of responsibility!"
***FIN***
Name: Arnval
Type: Angel
Element: Light
Weapons:-Seraphic Shot: A small sidearm. It's not very powerful, but it's accurate and has a short recharge rate. Arnval can summon this unarmored.
-Valkyrie Beams: A pair of beam sabers. Though she prefers ranged weapons, Arnval uses these with great proficiency. They can be summoned unarmored.
-Light Pulse: A square-looking gun that fires, as its name suggests, pulses of Light energy. The pulses deal heavy localized damage (no blast radius.) It's slow to fire, but has a decent recharge rate.
-Holy Rail: The gun Cid included in Arnval's upgrade, this fires piercing rounds. So as to avoid too much collateral damage, the shots are set to dissipate after a set distance, which can be adjusted depending on the environment. Slow recharge rate.
-Divine Judgment: The crown jewel in Arnval's arsenal. This is her BFG. Sure to take out anything in its path. at full power, it is theorized that it could destroy Earth's Moon. However, Arnval can only use it once before its 72-hour recharge kicks in.
Bio: Arnval is the unofficial "leader" of the Busou Shinki Royal Guard. She is level-headed, and good at developing strategies. Also, she knows how to change a set strategy to adapt to unforeseen situations. She feels pressure, not from her peers, but from the humans of the planet she swore to protect, as they have a set of rules that defines what an "Angel" is. A flight-capable unit, Arnval is the only Shinki who can break Earth's gravitational field and achieve orbit unaided. Because of this, she is often used as an envoy for visitors from afar. Her Light attribute grants her an illuminating aura, which she can use to light dark paths or to suddenly blind and stun enemies. Additionally, she deals extra damage to the undead and those with a Dark attribute.
Oh? You're wondering about that "mature content warning?" I'll say right off the bat, it's not sex. Well, there could be some sexual themes if I get around to Graffias and Vespelio, but, being glorified androids, Busou Shinki have no proper sexual definition, and, as such, do not engage in intercourse. The mature content comes mostly in the form of language. Under times of frustration or stress, there will be coarse language. The rest of it is in a few gruesome scenes depicting severe injury. I try to tone these down, but they do happen. I plan on doing mostly shorts that focus on one or two Shinki, and maybe writing bios to share the rest of the information you won't get out of one short story, such as armor and weapon specs.
Following is a testing of waters. This Arnval story will be left uncensored for the time being, but I will gladly change that at a moderator's request. I hope you enjoy it!
***Arnval: The Burden of Responsibility***
It's a typical week. Some hostile force from beyond the Sol System decided that Earth is some sort of threat; either that or they just like to see random destruction. The latter seems more likely. Instead of attacking from space, small groups formed localized raids to burn and pillage. These were either pirates or punk kids with nothing better to do. They came in fast, but not hard enough to pose too much of a threat. In fact, each group has already been dispatched quickly and efficiently. There is some property damage, but it seems no one is severely hurt. In one particular suburb, a blond girl in gleaming white armor hovers, surveying the scene. It is this Angel that vanquished the space pirates from this neighborhood. All in a day's work. Just doing my job, ma'am. Part of the town blazes into the sky, but the houses are vacan-- huh?
While watching the fires, the girl sees something that shouldn't be there. Her eyes, fitted with telescopic vision and the ability to detect life, spot a young girl in one of the burning houses. She cries on the bottom floor while the top burns. Structural collapse immanent, that little girl needs help, now. The bio-mechanical Angel fires up her solid rocket boosters. At the same time, the top floor comes down. At full speed, it would take the Angel less than half a second to come to the girl's aid, but from a full stop, it will take the her 1.5 to 2 seconds to cover the distance. But that doesn't matter this time. In less than a second, the girl will die. The Angel's eyes analyze the girl's face. Sandra Deerlove, age seven, attends the local elementary school, makes the highest marks in her second grade class, and, according to her ballet records, will reach full point in less than a year. Youth, innocence, the foundation for success in her adult life: it means nothing. The Angel watches as her target's head crumples beneath the weight of the burning wreckage. Sandra dies instantly. The Angel doesn't even have the ability to pull out her injured body and state that she'll be alright. She is close enough to hear the Deerloves scream in terror.
"My baby! My baby girl!," Mrs. Deerlove pleads to the Angel, "You have to get her out of there; she'll die!"
"Please, Arnval," Mr. Deerlove echoes his wife's sentiments, "Please save our daughter."
Arnval stares at the couple wide-eyed. "I... I can't," she whispers. Mrs. Deerlove only stares at Arnval open-mouthed, as if the Angel had just said something outrageous.
"Excuse me?," Mr. Deerlove demands, "What do you mean, 'you can't?' My daughter is in that fire and you're just going to sit here and watch it - watch her burn?! You're one of those goddamn robots! That fire won't even phase you! What kind of Angel doesn't help out a girl in need?!"
Arnval places her hand on his shoulder, closes her eyes and shook her head and repeats, "I can't."
Hysterical now, Mr. Deerlove shoves Arnval's hand away. "Don't you dare tell me 'you can't!' Sandra! SANDRA!"
Mrs. Deerlove already knows; her maternal instinct kicked in after Arnval's first whisper. But, in her mind, the Angel didn't fail, she had just exacted the will of God. Such is the work of an Angel. Arnval now stands with one hand over her mouth and one arm across her torso; tears stream down her face. Mrs. Deerlove approaches her.
"He has a plan for us, right?," she pleads. Arnval snaps out of her daze.
"W-what?"
"God. He has a plan for me and my husband, right? H-he must! H-he wouldn't ju-just t-take our little girl from us for no reason, right?" Mrs. Deerlove's eyes plead for answers. "Yo-you're one of His Angels. Puh-please, just tell muh-me there's some good to come from th-this." She can hardly speak through her sobbing.
In response to this, Arnval falls to her knees and sobs with the ferocity of Mrs. Deerlove herself. The flight stabilizers on her knees dig into the Deerlove's front lawn. Her wings, still a luminous white against the billowing black smoke, sag to the ground, dragging the boosters that failed her earlier behind them. This day, MMS Type Angel: Arnval, fails.
***
Three weeks later, Arnval makes a special point to attend Sandra Deerlove's funeural, a closed-casket event. No one recognizes her without her armor. Of course, the black veil helps this matter. During the service, she cries as if she knew Sandra. That's all Arnval can do for the girl she could not save. After the service, Arnval pays final respects at the casket and leaves a boquet of white roses. On her way out, she overhears Mr. Deerlove talking with some of the attendees.
"You know, one of those robot girls was there," he sneers.
"You mean those Busou Shinki?" one asks him, as if there were other robot girls walking around."Which one?"
"The leader, of all things! You know, the 'Angel.'" Mr. Deerlove makes air quotes on the word "Angel."
"Well, didn't she help out?," another asks, slightly dumbfounded.
"Oh, she helped, alright! She helped make sure there was a funeural for a seven-year-old-girl today!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean she was there and didn't do a damn thing after those... space... things... were gone. It was like she was off-duty after that. She wouldn't go in and get Sandra out of there!"
"That's terrible!"
Having heard enough, Arnval leaves. A car waits for her. She climbs into the back seat. From the rear view mirror, red eyes peer at her inquisitively.
"You done?," the driver inquires.
Arnval lets out a deep sigh. "Yeah, I guess so. Let's just go home, huh?"
"Well?," the driver digs as she pulls the car out of the funeural parking lot.
"Well what?," Arnval replies sharply.
"Chill, girl, geez. 'Welllll' did you talk to them? You know, the parents."
"No, I didn't talk to anyone. In fact, the dad blames me."
"Ouch. That bites. So I guess they didn't even mention you during the service?"
"Yeah, the mom did. She kept on insisting that 'God has a plan for them because that Angel showed up.'"
"Doesn't that ever get on your nerves?"
"All the fucking time!," Arnval suddenly bursts out. The driver's last question makes something snap. "Everyone thinks that I'm some fucking symbol of their God sent down from heaven to deliver them from disaster and sin and other bad... stuff... that... Shit! I don't even fucking know anymore! I just know that I'm not what at least half of them think I am! I'm sick and fucking tired of people expecting goddamn miracles because the 'Angel' is on the scene. I mean, I want to help them and all, but it's not like I'm perfect! It's not like I can catch every little thing that goes wrong! Shit happens, you know? Hell, maybe God does have a plan for her, I don't fucking know."
"Wow," the driver replies after a short pause, "that wasn't very Angelic at all. You need to work on that mouth, young lady."
At first, Arnval's rage increases tenfold at this, but then, she sees her sister's eyes in the rear view mirror. Strarf, ever playful, grins back at her raging sister. Arnval's anger dissipates almost instantly. she lowers her face to meet her palm as she lets out a stifled laugh disguised as a sigh. "I hate you so goddamn much right now, you know that, right, Strarf?"
"Yep!," Strarf chirps in response, "Glad I could help!"
The unlikely sisters arrive at their home: an unassuming house in a quiet suburb. There is no secret basement hanger, no hidden laboratory, nothing suspicious at all. Well, nothing save for the fact that the two women share the house and never bring any men home. Otherwise, they are generally well-liked by their neighbors and known in their community. Under the name Annie, Arnval manages the local grocery store. Strarf, under the name Steph(-anie), works in the music and movie store at the mall in the nearby town. Now, Arnval and Strarf enter their home and shed their disguises. Their "skin" changes color and consistency and areas that were once contiguous give way to mechanical joints, seams, and bolts.
"Sorry about that, Strarf," Arnval says while pinching the bridge of her nose, "And thanks for letting me vent."
"No problem!," Strarf winks at her sister, "What are sisters for if not driving to some random kid's funeral and then getting yelled at?"
"Shut up; I wasn't yelling at you, you just happened to be the only one around. Anyway, I'm taking a bath."
Arnval naturally has no need of baths, but the water soothes her. The warm wetness embraces her body and she loses herself in thought. What might they think? How would they react if they knew that the Angel's closest friend was the Devil herself? Is it worth going to Cid to change her armor? Would it do any good? More importantly, would it do any harm? Why do these people even matter? They're just humans, after all. So what if they see her as some holy messenger? So what if they see her as the Valkyrie of judgment? So what if her appearance makes them feel safe, gives them a glimmer of hope, tells them that there's a good chance of making it throu- Oh.
That's it. That's why Arnval is so important. Her white wings, her helm's golden ring, even her fair-skinned, youthful face: these act as symbols of salvation to many of them. No matter how many Busou Shinki show up, they look to her, the Angel. Without the Angel, where would they turn? The Knight, perhaps, but Queen Xiphos can't be on the front lines near as much as she might like. None of the other Shinki bear the responsibility of representing the peoples' hope. But who decided this burdon should fall on her? She realizes, though, that if not her, then another would have to wear the Angel armor. Who could she possibly wish that upon? not even her worst enemy. Besides, she's best suited for the job.
As she drains the bathtub, she decides to grin and bear it. She has her sister, who always puts up with her crap, and her extended family in the Royal Guard. Those are the people who matter most to her. She hugs her sister tightly and says, "I won't give up here."
"And if you ever do, I'll be right there to beat the motivation right back into you."
"Good. I'm counting on you, Strarf."
"Whoa, whoa, that's a lot of responsibility!"
***FIN***
Name: Arnval
Type: Angel
Element: Light
Weapons:-Seraphic Shot: A small sidearm. It's not very powerful, but it's accurate and has a short recharge rate. Arnval can summon this unarmored.
-Valkyrie Beams: A pair of beam sabers. Though she prefers ranged weapons, Arnval uses these with great proficiency. They can be summoned unarmored.
-Light Pulse: A square-looking gun that fires, as its name suggests, pulses of Light energy. The pulses deal heavy localized damage (no blast radius.) It's slow to fire, but has a decent recharge rate.
-Holy Rail: The gun Cid included in Arnval's upgrade, this fires piercing rounds. So as to avoid too much collateral damage, the shots are set to dissipate after a set distance, which can be adjusted depending on the environment. Slow recharge rate.
-Divine Judgment: The crown jewel in Arnval's arsenal. This is her BFG. Sure to take out anything in its path. at full power, it is theorized that it could destroy Earth's Moon. However, Arnval can only use it once before its 72-hour recharge kicks in.
Bio: Arnval is the unofficial "leader" of the Busou Shinki Royal Guard. She is level-headed, and good at developing strategies. Also, she knows how to change a set strategy to adapt to unforeseen situations. She feels pressure, not from her peers, but from the humans of the planet she swore to protect, as they have a set of rules that defines what an "Angel" is. A flight-capable unit, Arnval is the only Shinki who can break Earth's gravitational field and achieve orbit unaided. Because of this, she is often used as an envoy for visitors from afar. Her Light attribute grants her an illuminating aura, which she can use to light dark paths or to suddenly blind and stun enemies. Additionally, she deals extra damage to the undead and those with a Dark attribute.