Love on Gaia:A Walk In The Black Forest (Storge - familial love)

Storge: Familial Love

Character: Aath – well a pair of her NPC’s

Nickname: Aath

[Aath has travelled from Ealdwic, London to Germany with her Confidi Security detachment EXT-1, to meet with the Magi Matriarch of an unusual realm. Her Confidi are her private paramilitary. They are highly trained, equipped with the best money can buy (or steal, from organisations like the Orochi). They are beyond loyal, they are telepathic, and they are family.]


Tinnitus screamed in her ears as she opened her eyes to the fog. Uncertain where she was? What had happened?


No, … not fog … smoke. For some reason she is flat on her back and as she tries to raise her hands to her face she finds the left is tangled in something … the lanyard that connects her assault rifle to her battle harness. Wiping at her face, blinking, her vision blurred by the smoke and dust.

‘EEEEeeeeEEEEeeeEEEEeeeEEEEeeeee … eeeee … eee … ee’

The ringing in her ears slowly dissipates, still she can more feel than hear the incessant ‘Phwit! Phwit! … Phwit!’ of high velocity projectiles passing above her. Steadily the reports from small arms fire and various explosions impose on her consciousness along with the groans and sometimes cries of agony from casualties close by.

“Mel! … Mel! … Are you hit? … Are you okay?” the noises and concerned questions, accompanied by the feeling of hands checking her over, bring the actuality of her situation back into focus.

“I’m good … I’m good.” As she rolls prone and grimaces a smile at the man as she brings her rifle to the ready while anxiously looking at her surroundings. The carnage inflicted on the Black Forest Company security detail, mind numbing …

“Kendrik! … Mother? … The Matriarch?“

He responds quickly, “They’re safe … The Matriarch’s shield. She, Mother and Les are safe.”

Melissa nods and shakes her head to shift the last of the concussive confusion from her head, “What have we got?”

Just then there is a thump as a body crawls … falls from the remains of the armoured car that has been flipped by one of the explosions. A Black Forest Company trooper had somehow survived. Although for how long is another question. Simultaneously, through the cacophony of sound there is another Phwit! … heard and felt as it passed just to the left of her head, the single rifle’s report lost in the thunderous crash of combat.

Melissa and Kendrik dive apart. As he tries to force his frame closer to the ground by force of will, he shouts his answer.

“Multiple hostiles across the whole front.”

Melissa, now shielded by the remains of an overturned Humvee, attempts to return fire when targets present themselves.

Her anxiety grows by the second. The sheer volume of fire coming from their front is significant. Her earlier quick look around had found that a large number of the Black Forest Company had become casualties. Most of those who had survived were situated to her and Kendrik’s left. They seemed competent and were tending to their wounded and returning fire when able.

Still, by some grace, she and Kendrik were probably the most combat effective of what was left of the combined security detail … and she was in charge. Her brow furrows in concern when she sees the blood streaming down Kendrik’s neck, flowing under his collar from where something sharp had kissed his neck.

The day had started as a routine goodwill visit. The one affectionately known as Little Mother had arranged to meet the Magi Matriarch of this strange side dimension in Germany’s Black Forest. It was also the home of The Black Forest Company and the rest of the very unusual society that had developed there.

Not long after their charges had entered the large Gazebo for their meeting, the exercise had quickly become a total clusterfv#<!

Further reflection was interrupted as the pair were required to defend against the frontal assault in earnest, their innate ability to communicate telepathically allowing them to coordinate their fire. The anima infused projectiles tearing through underbrush and mundane body armour with apparent ease. High explosive and incendiary grenades rained on the assaulting forces from the underbarrel launchers.

Another BFC trooper manages to extract themselves from a damaged Humvee and waves frantically at the woman, shouting something. She can see his mouth moving, but any words are lost in the overwhelming crash of battle.

As he’d been shouting his untrained mind displayed fragmented images of the message he was trying to impart. These found Melissa but the best she could determine was that the attacks were widespread throughout the realm. The images were otherwise very strange.

The situation deteriorates further. A BFC Trooper had managed to man a Humvee’s open topped turret sporting twin 50 cal MGs and fire effectively for almost a minute before slumping back. The exit wound at the back of his head leaving little doubt as to his fate.

Melissa’s eyes flick right and left, searching for something, anything that she could use or do, to improve their situation.

Kendrik, while he continues to stomp ‘spot fires’ with his rifle and grenades … watches his ‘sister’ as she struggles to overcome her concussion and be able to work the problem. She was a New Yorker from the Village. She had been with Aath since before The Bee. He was born and bred of West Indian forebears in the East London Borough of Hackney. Fate had determined that they were more than just philosophical siblings.

Melissa’s anxiety is short circuited when a poorly delivered impersonation of Tim Brooke-Taylor from the old British comedy show, “The Goodies” fills her mind “And now for, ‘A Walk In The Black Forest’.”

She looks over to the widely grinning Kendrik as he winks and projects “We’ve got you.”

She cannot help but smile, closing her eyes a moment, she projects affectionately, “Idiot!” Before returning her attention to the front. Bolstered by his belief, she’s determined to defend Mother, The Matriarch, her ‘siblings’ and even the surviving BFC troopers until the cavalry arrives.

As the recoil from her rifle punches into her shoulder, she hoped the cavalry was more than the Napoleonic styled Hussars that the wounded BFC Trooper had inadvertently projected earlier.