u/KnownPangolin

Log Entry #030

Prisoner’s been spending a lot of time by herself. Does she like the silence that comes with being alone? Or is she used to being by herself and doesn’t want to leave the comfort bubble? Maybe both?

She still occasionally comes to me to ask even more questions. This time, however, she asked if I had any more books for her to read.

Me: “You’re out of books to read?”

Prisoner: “Not exactly. There were some good ones, but I really don’t feel like reading The Art of War, The Six Secret Teachings, and by God I am not reading The Human Centipede. Why do you even have that book?”

Me: “I’m pretty sure it was a gift from someone. I never read it myself.”

Prisoner: “Well, do you have anything that isn’t military strategy treatises or The Human Centipede?”

Her attention went towards the bookshelf in my room.

Prisoner: “What do we have here…”

She took some of the books and had a better look at them.

Prisoner: “Demon Farm… The Ripping Tree… The Guts of Wrath… Eat. Rip. Tear…. Living With Rage? You have anger issues?”

Me: “I’d rather not talk about it.”

After getting a good look, she put the books back.

Prisoner: “This collection is… ass… Except for Living With Rage. I’m glad you’re working on self improvement.”

Me: “Rude.”

Prisoner: “Do you have anything else? Maybe this place has a library? Castles tend to have them, and this place is basically a space castle.”

I approached the bookshelf and grabbed the old rolled up schematics of the Fortress of Doom from its top. I unrolled them and hung them on a wall in the room. We both got a good look at it, but Prisoner spotted some areas of the Fortress she didn’t know about yet.

Prisoner: “Ripatorium? What is that?”

Me: “It doesn’t matter. Don’t go there unless you really wish to die.”

Prisoner: “It’s at the bottom of this place? Is that the area you don’t want us to go to?”

Me: “It doesn’t matter. Do. Not. Go. There.”

Prisoner: “I can’t stand secrets, Flynn.”

Me: “It doesn’t concern you. Keep your nose out of it.”

Prisoner: “Why can’t you tell me??”

Me: “There. A library. Let’s go there and have a look.”

Prisoner: “Don’t change subjects!”

I rolled the schematics back up and placed them where I got them. As we were walking out of my room and heading to the library, she kept asking about the Ripatorium.

Prisoner: “Flynn, what is the Ripatorium?”

Me: “None of your business.”

Prisoner: “Why are you hiding the truth?”

Me: “It’s for your own safety. Knowledge can be a burden.”

Prisoner: “Lack of it can be a burden too, especially when it’s put like that!”

Me: “Oh for fuck’s sake- IT’S A DEMON PRISON!”

Prisoner: “…What?”

Me: “At the bottom of the Fortress is what used to be a training arena that I repurposed as a demon prison. That was a very long time ago and I left it as well as its inhabitants to rot. One of Telorian’s primary objectives is making sure nothing gets out of there.”

Prisoner: “There are… literal demons at the bottom of the Fortress?”

Me: “Creatures that kill and eat the innocent for sustenance. I keep them there as revenge. I used to go down there to warm up for combat deployments, but that was a long time ago.”

Prisoner: “Are you sure they’re still living?”

Me: “They are. Surviving by eating themselves most likely.”

Prisoner: “Can’t you just… get rid of them somehow?”

Me: “That area is gigantic. It’s like a maze. Clearing it could take months. They’ll starve eventually.”

Prisoner: “Can’t you just pump some gas in there or something?”

Me: “And risk having that gas leak into your rooms? No. They don’t deserve a quick end like that anyway.”

Prisoner: “You seem to hate them a lot. Is there a reason for that?”

Me: “Oh, for all that is good, KNOCK IT OFF! Stop asking me these questions! Stop trying to squeeze out all the information out of me! I am not telling you ANYTHING that I don’t want you to know! End of story!”

Prisoner: “…”

We finally made it to what seemed to be the door to the library. It seemed old and didn’t open.

Me: “It’s jammed.”

Prisoner: “She we get Telorian?”

I forced the door open with my hands.

Prisoner: “Or… we could do that…”

Inside the library it was dark. If not for the light out of the doorway, it would’ve even been pitch black. I had a flashlight with me and we got a better look around.

The library was incredibly old and a thick layer of dust was on every surface. It was also huge, with tall numerous shelves stacked full of books with varying sizes. Prisoner looked excited.

I noticed a silhouette loom in the doorway. It was Fergus, who got curious about what we were doing.

Fergus: “By the Emperor, a library! Ye had it in the Fortress this entire time??”

Me: “I never knew about it, until now.”

Fergus: “Kindred, I believe we haven’t met before. Prisoner, was it?”

Prisoner: “Uh, yes. It’s an interesting choice for a name, but I can’t remember mine, so…”

Fergus: “I am Fergus Cameron. A Preacher for the Ecclesiarchy!”

Prisoner: “Ecclesiarchy?”

Me: “Imperial church in the Grimdark.”

Prisoner: “So… you’re a priest, right?”

Fergus: “Nae! A Preacher! Me role is to kindle faith, maintain morale, and drive Imperial soldiers into rages against heretics and xenos!”

Prisoner: “You have an interesting accent, Fergus. Are you from Scotland?”

Fergus: “Never heard of it!”

Me: “There is no such thing as Scotland in the Grimdark.”

Prisoner: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Me: “In the Grimdark, humanity is unified in a single empire - the Imperium of Man. There are no such things as countries, nations or states. No governments either. Only the Imperium of Man. Religion is also strictly limited to that of the God-Emperor. Any and all other religions have been erased entirely.”

Fergus: “So, what is it with this great place? How come such a massive vault of knowledge has hidden itself on the Fortress?”

Me: “Well, I usually got everything I need from stores or gifts. Never really needed an entire library.”

Prisoner: “This place is a mess…”

Fergus: “Indeed! It shall be restored to its former glory! I’ll see to it!”

Me: “You’ll clean this place up?”

Fergus: “I must make sure that the knowledge stored in here receives the proper care! The Ecclesiarchy would support my intent!”

Prisoner: “I’ll help.”

Me: “Great, seems like you two get along. I guess I’ll go see what others are doing.”

I left to see what others were up to, knowing well that Fergus and Prisoner could be trusted.

In all honesty, I didn’t really know where I was going. I thought that Prisoner could use some bonding with others, but now that I think about it, I have no real way of knowing what happens in the library. No bugs or cameras. Guess we’ll see where that leads to.

Then I decided to visit Witch. It’s been a while since I’ve last seen her and I thought that perhaps it’s best to see what she’s up to.

As I assumed, Witch was in her room. However, this time, instead of playing video games, she was watching a show.

Me: “What are you watching?”

Witch: “The Boys.”

Me: “I didn’t think you watch shows… wait… how are you watching it? Don’t you need to pay for it?”

Witch: “Found a site where it’s free.”

Me: “I must admit, you’re learning to use the internet at a very fast pace.”

Witch: “I had like 8 months to do it. You know, I remember I kinda wanted to get out of this place when you first brought me here, but now… I kinda don’t want to. I… I think I… I like it here… Oh man...”

She then pulled something out her mouth and put it in a small black can.

Me: “What is that?”

Witch: “Pouch.”

Me: “A pouch of nicotine??”

Witch: “Yup. 43mg.”

Me: “Where did you get it??”

Witch: “I borrowed it…”

Me: “I’m the only one on the Fortress to use them!”

She looked at me with a smug look on her face.

Witch: “And who do you think I borrowed them from?”

Me: “Alright, give the can back.”

Witch: “No chance!”

Me: “That stuff’s addictive!”

Witch: “Pfft. It’s not that bad.”

Me: “Where did you even learn how to use them??”

Witch: “A few google searches got the job done.”

I then snatched the can by force. It wasn’t hard since she was high, but she was not happy.

Witch: “You suck!”

Me: “The can’s half empty! How long have you been using these??”

Witch: “A couple days…”

Me: “You used half of a 43mg can in a couple days?!”

Witch: “Hey, I’m not the one that bought them for myself!”

Me: “I use one pouch of super strong ones once every 24 hours to wrap up a hard day! It’s not the same!”

Witch: “But you use them!”

Me: “Either way, you stole my shit!”

Witch: “I borrowed it…”

Me: “Oh yeah?? And what if I “borrow” this from you?”

I unplugged her television and picked it up.

Witch: “What are you doing?!”

Me: “Borrowing it!”

Witch: “HEY!!”

I made my way out of her room, television in hand. Witch followed closely.

Witch: “You can’t do this!”

Me: “Watch me.”

Witch: “I only used a few!”

Me: “You used half of the can!”

Witch: “Okay, okay, I did! I’m sorry! Can I maybe pay you back somehow?”

Me: “Eye for an eye, a couple days with my can and a couple of days without your television.”

Witch: “WHAT?! That’s so unfair!!”

Me: “You know what’s also unfair? Stealing.”

Witch: “Flynn, please! I’ll… I’ll do anything!”

Me: “…”

Witch: “Okay, maybe not literally anything… but still! You want me to clean? I’ll clean! Want me to do the dishes? Clean Marcus’ vomit? Help Telorian? For fuck’s sake, I’ll do it! Just give me back my TV! Please!”

Me: “No.”

Witch: “Come on! What am I supposed to do now?!”

Me: “As you said, you can clean, do the dishes, clean Marcus’ vomit, help Telorian, whatever you want.”

Witch: “Ugh! I hate you!”

Me: “Mhm. I know.”

I walked away and put the television in a secure place where she won’t find it.

I’m sure she’ll try to get back at me somehow.

//CONTINUE LOG

I was sitting in my room until suddenly Prisoner ran inside and begged me to come help, saying that Fergus has gone mad.

We rushed to the library and in it I saw a massive pile of books by the entrance. Fergus was pouring some gasoline on them.

Me: “What the Hell are you doing?!”

Fergus: “Getting rid of Heresy!

Me: “What are you talking about?”

Fergus: “These books contain profanities, perversions, poison to the soul! They must burn!”

Prisoner: “Flynn, please help! He’s going to destroy all of the good ones!”

Fergus: “Clearly, ye understand not what good writing even is, kindred! Worry not, I’ll show ye true purity!”

I snatched the gasoline from Fergus.

Me: “Who gave you the right to destroy literature?”

Fergus: “But Taggart, surely ye could see the corruption within these pages!”

He handed me some of the books and I got a better look. They seemed like genres of romance, religious wisdom, or straight up scientific writings. These kinds of books in particular could never exist in the Grimdark.

Me: “Fergus, listen. I know you want everybody to remain loyal, pure and faithful, but you must also remember the oath you gave.”

Fergus: “Oath?”

Me: “When we first met and I welcomed you to the Fortress, way before the Construct was even discovered, you promised not to interfere with anything outside of the Grimdark.”

Fergus: “I… Uhh…”

Me: “This is a direct violation of that oath. It appears your old mind seems to have forgotten all about it.”

Fergus: “…My apologies Lord Taggart. Fer I have sinned!”

Me: “Indeed you have. Just… don’t flog yourself over this.”

Fergus: “I… will be back…”

He walked out of the library. Prisoner let out a sigh of relief.

Prisoner: “Oh my God, Flynn! Thank you so much!”

Me: “Don’t mention it.”

Prisoner: “He wanted to keep only the most boring ones he could find! What does he even see in them? Thank God for that oath!”

Me: “There was no oath.”

Prisoner: “What?”

Me: “Fergus is old and forgets many things. Forgetting about a nonexistent oath doesn’t sound too unbelievable to him.”

Prisoner: “You gaslit him into thinking he made a promise? For me?”

Me: “Enjoy the reading, Prisoner.”

Prisoner: “Flynn… Thank you… The books are soaked in gasoline, but… You did a really great thing.”

Me: “Mhm.”

I couldn’t really blame Fergus for doing something so drastic, since, in his dimension, little stuff like this could get you killed.

Here’s hoping he doesn’t find out the oath was a lie.

//END LOG

Log Entry #029

The newest expedition into the Construct was a success. Yet again I managed to retrieve yet another Princess.
This one seems to be very close to a generic human, much like Damsel. I found her shackled in a much more prison-like basement, because of which she has been named "Prisoner". Compared to the rest of the Princesses, she's much more sensible and intelligent.

Extracting Prisoner, same as the rest, had proven to be challenging, since, at first, she wouldn't trust me and held me in deep suspicion. When we did make it out of the basement, she slammed the door into my face and made a run for the forest. She stopped shortly after making it out of the cabin and stared into the woods.
I told her that the forest was endless and the whole dimension itself is abstract in nature. She questioned everything, of course, even mentioning the avian humanoid that was seen by everyone before her, but she eventually agreed to come with me.
Something tells me she still didn't trust me, but thought that it was unwise to run into the woods without a clear sense of direction. Can't blame her.

The moment we made it to the Fortress, she stared at its interior in awe, until eventually noticing others standing in the lobby and eyeballing her. There was literally everyone, except for Telorian, who was likely working. We walked down the pathway from the portal and past the crowd. Damsel slipped through, excited to greet the newest member.

Damsel: "Hi, my name is Damsel! Nice to meet you!"

Me: "There will be time for introductions later, Dams. Give us a moment."

Damsel: "Oh, yeah! Of course!"

We made our way to the lab, where I, same as with the rest of the Princesses, ran a few tests and took a couple tissue and blood samples.
I looked at the blood cells under the microscope and, same as the others' blood shortly after arriving, the cells seemed unstable and even looked like they were "glitching" or something.
This time I decided to take a bit of blood and then preserve it cryogenically. Maybe I can run some tests on this blood?

After I was done, I took a fine laser cutter to remove the shackles on her hands and neck.
As I was cutting, she spoke.

Prisoner: "What is this place?"

Me: "It's a gigantic, ancient space station, once serving as a battle station, now used as a home for me, and, for now, you too."

Prisoner: "That's just absurd..."

Me: "Interdimensionality gets whacky and ridiculous. It's best to not overthink it and accept it as it is."

Prisoner: "Do you really travel between dimensions? How many have you been to?"

Me: "Yes. I've been to many. I lost count."

Prisoner: "Those girls... They look just like me... but are still different..."

Me: "Mhm. Each of them has their own story. You'll be able to ask them if you're interested."

Prisoner: "What about those two men?"

Me: "They're old friends of mine. They got into some trouble a while back and I let them stay here for the time being. Their names are Marcus and Fergus. The one with the mustache is Marcus and the one with the braided hair is Fergus."

Prisoner: "Are they... brothers or something?"

Me: "No. They are very different people that bonded in very harsh times. They come from another dimension - The Grimdark."

Prisoner: "That sounds ominous. What is my dimension called?"

Me: "The Construct."

Prisoner: "Why "The Construct"?"

Me: "Felt fitting, otherworldly, abstract. Your dimension is vastly different from the rest. It is illogical, people don't seem to stay dead there, and it keeps shifting in design and concept every time I visit."

Prisoner: "I... I feel like my life was a lie..."

Me: "Don't worry about it. The life that follows now will definitely not be a lie. I promise."

As I finished speaking, the last shackle on her neck came off.
Removing the shackles revealed very gnarly bruising that seems to have been caused by constant pressure - like bed sores.

Prisoner didn't notice it at first, as she was enjoying her newfound neck flexibility.
She cracked her neck and stretched. I heard her vertebrae joints crack many times as she did.

Prisoner: "Oh my God... Ooooh... That felt heavenly... Like taking off a backpack after wearing it for years..."

Me: "You have some nasty bruising around your collar bones."

Prisoner: "My... what?"

She looked down and noticed the bruising.

Prisoner: "Maybe it will heal?"

Me: "There is already scar tissue. That will leave a mark - a permanent one. This means that-"

Prisoner: "That I will never truly leave the shackles behind... I understand."

Me: "Well... uh... Now that we're done, maybe you should go out and meet the others?"

Prisoner: "I guess."

We left the lab and headed to the lobby.
As we were walking, Prisoner struck up a conversation.

Prisoner: "You know, I don't really like small talk, but... I have to admit, this place is... eerily beautiful."

Me: "Eerily?"

Prisoner: "Yes. There's an interesting choice of statues in this place. What are they?"

Me: "They're creatures from another dimension."

Prisoner: "The Grimdark?"

Me: "No. They're from a dimension call "The Argent D'Nur". They're called the Wraiths."

Prisoner: "What are the Wraiths?"

Me: "In The Argent D'Nur, they're considered Gods of sorts. People in that dimension were living in a very dangerous world inhabited by colossal creatures - Ancestral Beasts. Then, one day, The Wraiths arrived in a giant world-sized shard that got lodged into their planet. That shard was called the "world spear". Stuck on their world, the Wraiths emerged onto the lands of the planet, and their "howls" killed off the Ancestral Beasts as well as a massive part of other creatures that lived in that world. However, some things got better. Crops began to grow. The surviving people of Argent D'Nur thrived and advanced at an astonishing rate. That is why the Wraiths became a divine symbol."

Prisoner: "That... has got to be the craziest story I've ever heard. But I guess that's why this space station looks so much... like a castle."

Me: "Yeah. It is also highly technologically advanced. It suits my needs and serves as my home."

Prisoner: "I can't imagine what it's like to live here-"

Her speech abruptly ended when we bumped into Telorian.
Prisoner's eyes went even wider when she noticed the giant 9 foot tall Space Marine. I myself am a pretty tall man, but even Telorian makes me feel small. Her reaction was justified.
Telorian had his Omnissiah Axe with him - a giant Space Marine sized Halberd with wires, cog-shaped blade and a mechanical clamp instead of the backblade, all combine into a truly beautiful weapon and tool of a Techmarine.

Telorian: "Lord Taggart, you have returned from the expedition."

Me: "I have. And where were you when we got back?"

Telorian: "One of the pipes in the lower levels had burst. I needed my axe, but it is fully operational once more."

Me: "Telorian, this is Prisoner. She is the newest member of our nice little collective."

Telorian leaned forward to scan Prisoner. After a few seconds of weird robotic sounds, he stood straight again.

Telorian: "You need not fear me, Prisoner. I am an ally. I am also "really cool"."

Me: "Who told you that?"

Telorian: "Damsel did, my Lord."

Me: "Of course she did."

Prisoner: "Uhm... who exactly are you?"

Telorian: "I am Telorian, a Techmarine of the Ultramarines Second Company. I volunteered to leave the bonds of my Chapter to accompany Lord Taggart and help spread the glory of the Omnissiah - The Machine God."

Me: "He maintains the equipment and other machinery of the Fortress. Think of him as our main engineer."

Prisoner: "So, if something breaks, I speak to you, Telorian?"

Telorian: "Yes, Prisoner. The faster I know of a breakdown, the faster that breakdown will be terminated."

Prisoner: "Okay. Nice to meet you Telorian."

Telorian: "We will speak more another time. I will be in my Forge."

Telorian, having completed his work, went back to his workshop.

Me: "So? What do you think?"

Prisoner: "And here I thought you were big..."

Me: "Yeah, well, Telorian is a Space Marine from the Grimdark. He's genetically modified and is also half-machine. Sometimes he acts more like a machine than a human."

Prisoner: "I noticed."

Me: "Alright, let's keep going."

As we were walking further towards the lobby, Prisoner stopped.

Prisoner: "You know, I don't think I really want to meet all of them at once."

Me: "Why?"

Prisoner: "I don't like crowds, especially crowds of people I don't know."

Me: "Hm. Neither do I."

Prisoner: "Maybe there's something else you could show me? Perhaps where I'll sleep? I'm not going to be sleeping on the couch or something, am I?"

Me: "Yeah, sure. Come with me."

Instead of taking Prisoner to the lobby to meet the others. We decided to get familiar with her quarters instead.
Once again, I reserved yet another room for Prisoner. Keycard and all, just like with the others. Damsel had cleaned it up earlier. She does that to every new member that arrives.
When Prisoner first went inside, she never dropped the look of awe on her face.

Prisoner: "This is... all mine?"

Me: "Yes. For the time being, treat this space as your very own."

Prisoner: "I can do... literally anything here?"

Me: "Well, "literally anything" is a bit of a stretch, but I trust you to not destroy this room."

She sat down on the bed.

Prisoner: "This is so much better than the cold stone floor."

She proceeded to lie down on her back, letting out a sigh of relief as she did.

Prisoner: "For as long as I can remember, this is the first time I finally feel... safe."

Me: "Alright, that's great. I'll get going. Let me know if you need anything."

Prisoner: "You got any books around here?"

Me: "Sure, there should be some in this room."

Prisoner: "I would kill for a book right about now."

Me: "I think we'll get along, you and I."

Right as I was about to leave, she had one last thing to say.

Prisoner: "Thank you, Flynn. For everything."

Me: "The only person I remember that thanked me for anything was Damsel. You're welcome."

I left her room and went about my day.
Prisoner could probably use some rest.

//CONTINUE LOG

Most of their rooms share the same hallways. Each and every hallway has high-quality cameras to monitor their behavior and for me to have eyes around the Fortress.
Back when Prisoner first arrived, I told Damsel that the time for introductions will have to wait. Apparently, Damsel couldn't wait and really wanted to meet Prisoner. One time when she hugged me, I quietly clipped a bug onto the back of her dress, right under her hair. This lets me track their location, as well as hear conversations between people that think they're alone.
It's intrusion of privacy, sure, but I think that knowing what's happening behind your back at all times is beyond crucial.

At first, cameras picked up Damsel approaching Prisoner's room. She was holding a cup of coffee.
Shortly after knocking on her door, Prisoner opened it.

Damsel: "Hello! I think we didn't have a proper chance to meet!"

Prisoner: "Hello. Damsel, was it?"

Damsel: "Yup! I brought you some coffee!"

Prisoner: "Oh, thanks. You'll... come in?"

Damsel: "Yea! Sure!"

Both proceeded to go inside of Prisoner's room.
I couldn't see anything happen inside, but I could hear it.

Prisoner: "So, uh... How long have you been here?"

Damsel: "About 6 months, I think?"

Prisoner: "6 months?! Don't you think that's a bit too long?"

Damsel: "Well, it is a pretty long time, but this place is very cool! There's a kitchen for everyone to eat, a living room where we can all hang out, Flynn makes sure to give us anything we need, there's even a Gymnasium Advie goes to!"

Prisoner: "Who's Advie?"

Damsel: "Adversary! That's the name Flynn gave her, but we just call her Advie!"

Prisoner: "Is it the really big one? With horns?"

Damsel: "Yea! That's Advie!"

Prisoner: "Maybe you could tell me about the others?"

Damsel: "Sure! Who do you want to learn about?"

Prisoner: "Well, what is Advie like?"

Damsel: "Advie is really strong. Despite looking a bit menacing, she's really nice to the people that are nice to her! Actually, she loves to spar! She sparred with Fergus, Flynn, Telorian... but, uh... well, she lost every time. But that doesn't stop her from trying! That's what makes her so cool!"

Prisoner: "There was also one with a tail. Who's that?"

Damsel: "That's Witch! She... well, uhm... she's... stinky and lazy? She's also mean to almost everyone, but Flynn says that is "due to her past". I never really understood why. She never told anyone about her past other than Flynn..."

Prisoner: "Okay. What about the weird one? The one that smiled creepily."

Damsel: "That sounds like Razor! She's chaotic and very enthusiastic! She's pretty funny too! She also has a secret - her ENTIRE skeleton is made of swords!"

Prisoner: "What??"

Damsel: "Yea! Flynn says that the place we all come from, the Construct, creates "unpredictable mutations", which causes many of us to look so weird."

Prisoner: "Is she dangerous?"

Damsel: "Flynn says she isn't..."

Prisoner: "Do you believe in absolutely everything Flynn says?"

Damsel: "Yea, I trust him! He's smart and he means well! He's super kind and understanding! I was very sad and scared when I first arrived here, but Flynn was always there for me. I got sick once and he took good care of me!"

Prisoner: "Why were you sad?"

Damsel: "Well, I think you also met him, right?"

Prisoner: "Are you talking about the bird man?"

Damsel: "Yes, him. He tried to free me back in my basement, but... it felt like something started controlling him... so I... I killed him..."

Prisoner: "It also happened to you? I could've sworn the exact same thing happened to me. I quickly sliced his jugular open to put him out of his misery."

Damsel: "Well... I never stabbed anyone before... So... I just kept stabbing until he... stopped moving."

Prisoner: "Oh... I see..."

I couldn't see, but I heard someone start sobbing. From the following audio I assume it was Damsel.

Prisoner: "Don't cry. It's alright. You tried your best. How were you supposed to know how to kill someone quickly?"

Damsel: "I... *sniff* I didn't even want to kill him..."

From the sound of something rubbing on the bug, I can only assume they hugged.

Prisoner: "Do you need a moment?"

Damsel: "No... *sniff* I only cry harder if I think about it..."

Prisoner: "You're right. Maybe tell me about Marcus, Fergus and Telorian?"

Damsel: "Well... *sniff* Father Fergus is also kind..."

Prisoner: "Father Fergus?"

Damsel: "Yea, Fergus is a priest! He does his best for us to remain pure and keep Mr. Emperor happy!"

Prisoner: "Mr. Emperor, huh? Alright, what about Marcus?"

Damsel: "Marcus is very funny, nice, and has a cool mustache! He has a robot arm, because he lost it when serving Mr. Emperor in "the Guard". He also drink a lot, and I told him that he should do so less, but he says it keeps him happy, so maybe it's not that bad."

Prisoner: "Okay, and what do you think about Telorian?"

Damsel: "Oh, Telorian is super cool! He's very smart and loves to build and fix stuff! He lived on the Fortress before any of us even got saved by Flynn! One day, he appeared out of nowhere when Witch went too deep down into the Fortress!"

Prisoner: "Too deep down? Why can't we go too deep down into the Fortress?"

Damsel: "Flynn says there are traps down there and that it's very dangerous! I don't know why there are traps, but if Flynn says it's dangerous, it must be really dangerous!"

Prisoner: "And what about Flynn? Who is he? Where did he come from?"

Damsel: "I... Don't know actually... He never told any of us. He never even showed us his face!"

Prisoner: "But why do you trust him so much then?"

Damsel: "But... who else could I trust if not him?"

Prisoner: "Well, if that makes you feel safer, I guess it's okay."

Damsel: "Alright, I best get going! So you around, Prisoner!"

Prisoner: "See ya, Damsel."

Damsel: "You can call me Dams too, by the way!"

Prisoner: "Alright, Dams. See ya."

Damsel left the room and went to do something else.

It's nice to have someone like Prisoner around now. She seems smart and very calm.
However, she already has raised some questions about me and the rest. Let's hope it won't cause any trouble in the future.

//END LOG

Log Entry #028

I have notice a very unusual pattern occurring in the Fortress - Every sharp piece of cutlery is seemingly vanishing without a trace, especially the sharpest knives and blades.

The first one to tell me this is Damsel, who loves to do the cooking around here. She needs sharp knives to make fine slices, but since everything is gone, she resorted to cutting with a dull butter knife instead.
She looked uneasy when serving the food to others.

As I was speaking to Damsel about this problem, asking where she last saw the knives, what she used them for and so on, our conversation was interrupted by Marcus, who had a very distinct stubble and clearly needed a shave.

Marcus: "Aye, bruv. Have you borrowed me shavin' kit by any chance?"

Me: "I have standards, Marcus. Taking one's belongings without asking and without a probable cause is below me."

He scratched his chin as I said that.

Marcus: "Weird. Been missin' for a while now. Could really go for a shave sometime soon. It had me razor and all."

Me: "Razor... wait, RAZOR!"

The prime suspect was now Razor. Who else would need so many sharp knives?
I never really understood her thought process. She's as unpredictable as she's deadly.

When all three of us arrived at the door to her designated room, I knocked on it and we went inside.
Inside was Razor, sitting at her desk with the creepy smile on her face, as usual. The desk had a pile of knives and other kitchen utensils on top of it. There were even some other jagged pieces of metal that seemed to be broken off of something. On the middle of the desk sat some sort of metal effigy made of knives, that strangely resembled a woman.

Razor: "Hi guys!"

Me: "So that's where all the knives went..."

Razor: "I had to borrow some! But look! Behold, the perfect woman!"

Marcus: "Riiiight..."

Marcus then noticed his shaving razor lodged at the very top of the strange statuette.

Marcus: "Ay, that's me razor!"

Razor: "Huh?"

Marcus: "No, not you. Me shavin' razor!"

He walked up to her and plucked his razor out of Razor's effigy.
It fell apart instantly. Her smile dropped.

Razor: "Hey! I worked hard on that..."

Marcus: "Don't touch me stuff, las!"

He walked away without saying another word. Likely off to shave.

After that Damsel walked up and took some of the knives from the pile, then also left.

Then there was just her and me.

Me: "What am I supposed to do with you?"

She looked at me with a slight frown with her eyes turning slightly moist.

Me: "Don't give me that look. You know very well that you're not the only person here that has a use for those knives."

Razor: "But it's so boring around here! What else am I supposed to do?"

She was right, you know. There sure as Hell is nothing she could really do that she would find interesting.

Me: "Alright, come with me."

Razor: "To where?"

Me: "Does it matter? You've got anything better to do?"

Razor: "Okay..."

Razor and I made our way to Telorian's new forge. He used to have one at the lowest levels of the Fortress, but he managed to set a practically impenetrable perimeter around the Ripatorium, so his presence down there is no longer needed as much as it used to.
The forge is his workshop of sorts, he repairs broken equipment and other gadgets. However, Telorian has been so effective at his job that he rarely ever needs to repair anything, so he instead just modifies already functional equipment, developing upgrades and running basic tests to monitor shifts in efficiency.
Poor bastard does not relax at all. His work is his life. The Tech-Priests of Mars cut out any need for comfort he had left.

We entered the forge and saw Telorian working on something. I didn't bother to ask what it was.
He slowly turned towards us, waiting for me to say something.

Me: "I have a new task for you, Telorian. Do you have the time?"

Telorian: "There is always time for your command, Lord Taggart."

I sigh every time he calls me "Lord Taggart". It's... triggering.

Me: "Watch over Razor. Make sure she doesn't cause more issues around the Fortress."

Razor: "What??"

Telorian: "With all due respect, my Lord. I have more pressing matters at hand and do not have the time for babysitting."

Razer: "Yea! And I don't need any babysitting! I'm a grown woman!"

Me: "Then start acting like one. Telorian, this isn't up for debate. You're the most reliable person on the Fortress."

Telorian: "But Lord..."

Me: "And quit calling me a Lord!"

Razor: "Flynn! I don't need a babysitter!"

Me: "What's that? You need a babysitter?"

Razor: "No, no! I said I DON'T need a babysitter!"

Me: "Oh, alright! If you need a babysitter, then right there is your babysitter. Take it from here, Telorian."

Razor: "Wait, no!"

I left the Forge and closed the door behind me. There is a camera in the Forge as well as on Telorian's shoulder mounted Servo-Gun. He keeps it unloaded and mainly uses it as an additional eyeball. I used the cameras to monitor the following situation.

At first, both of them just kind of awkwardly stared at each other without saying anything.

Razor: "So, uh... You got any knives around here?"

Telorian: "Yes."

Razor: "Can I see?"

Telorian: "No."

Razor: "Oh... Okay..."

Another awkward silence followed.

Razor: "Sooo... What do you do in your free time?"

Telorian: "I do not have free time."

Razor: "Really? You just work all the time?"

Telorian: "I choose to do so."

Razor: "So you do have free time, but you choose to spend it by working?"

Telorian: "...Yes."

Razor: "But... Why do you choose to work instead of doing something more fun?"

Telorian: "My life is my duty. My duty is service. And so, my life is service."

Razor: "That sounds boring!"

Telorian: "It is all I ever wished for. There is nothing for me to complain about."

Yet another awkward silence followed.

Telorian: "Tell me... What is it like to have blessed steel already a part of your body?"

Razor: "What?"

Telorian: "Steel. Strong, reliable and everlasting. Your skeleton is nearly unbreakable. Is it not the greatest gift ever bestowed to you?"

Razor: "Well, actually, it hurt me a lot!"

Telorian: "Pain is only temporary."

Razor: "This one wasn't! the blades kept cutting, and cutting, while my flesh just healed only for it to be cut again!"

Telorian: "Does it still hurt?"

Razor: "Sometimes, but not as much as it used to! Flynn gave me this special collar thing that helps!"

Telorian: "Yes, the D.U.L.L. collar. Stops or at least tries to stop the blades from slicing your tissue and internal organs. I helped create it."

Razor: "You helped to make it??"

Telorian: "Yes. It was mostly Lord Taggart, but I made some adjustments, making sure it does not cause you to implode."

Razor: "Wow! I really wouldn't want to implode!"

Telorian: "Indeed. That would not be ideal."

Razor: "Hey, question! Why do you talk like that?"

Telorian: "Like what?"

Razor: "You know! Like a robot! You're not a robot, are you?"

Telorian: "I would love to become one with the machine, however, I am in fact a human. Heavily genetically modified, cybernetically enhanced, and disciplined by the harshest, most demanding Space Marine training, but I am human, at least that is what Lord Taggart keeps telling me."

Razor: "That's cool! I don't even know if I'm human myself!"

Telorian: "True. Nobody is born with a steel skeleton. Calling you human would be incorrect."

Razor seemed slightly saddened by his words.

Telorian: "Do not feel bad about yourself. I envy you. Being born with steel already a part of you is truly a gift from the Omnissiah."

Razor: "Why are you so obsessed with steel? I mean, sure, I like sharp metal knives too! But I feel like you enjoy steel in particular! Why?"

Telorian paused for several seconds. Long enough that I thought he had ignored the question.

Telorian: "Because flesh fails."

Razor tilted her head.

Razor: "Everybody keeps saying that!"

Telorian: "Because it is true."

Razor: "My flesh heals!"

Telorian: "Yet it was cut."

Razor: "Well... yeah!"

Telorian: "Steel does not scar. Steel does not tire. Steel does not fear."

Razor: "Steel also doesn't laugh!"

Telorian fell silent.

Razor: "Or eat!"

Silence.

Razor: "Or dance!"

Silence.

Razor: "Or kiss people!"

Telorian: "I fail to see the relevance."

Razor: "Exactly!"

Another pause followed.

Razor wandered around the workshop while Telorian returned to his work.

She poked a large machine.

Telorian: "Do not touch that."

She poked another one.

Telorian: "Do not touch that either."

She pointed at a rack of tools.

Razor: "Can I touch those?"

Telorian: "No."

Razor: "What CAN I touch?"

Telorian: "Nothing."

Razor: "You have the worst workshop ever!"

For the first time since I started watching the cameras, Telorian actually stopped working.

He looked at her.

Then at the tool rack.

Then back at her.

Telorian: "Would you like to learn how to forge a blade?"

Razor froze.

Razor: "I can do that?"

Telorian: "Any sufficiently disciplined individual can."

Razor: "I'm not disciplined!"

Telorian: "That much is obvious."

Razor grinned.

Razor: "Can I make it really sharp?"

Telorian: "That is generally the objective."

Razor: "BEST DAY EVER!"

Telorian immediately looked as though he regretted the decision, but, now both of them have something in common.
I guess that's better than stealing all the blades from the Fortress.

//CONTINUE LOG

Another expedition into The Construct will be conducted tomorrow.
Telorian advised me to arm myself in case there's ever something I couldn't handle with my bare hands in there. I chuckled at the silly thought. However, in case there is something in there that requires additional tools, like, let's say, rough terrain or a giant monstrous Princess fixated on killing anything that moves with no intent to stop, I have a special little something planned for emergencies like that.
Inside the armory there is an emergency slipgate that can deliver anything inside to wherever I'm currently at. I never used it, since there was no real need, but should there ever be anything I need help with, I'm sure the slipgate will deliver whatever I need.

Damsel also spoke to me about it. She reminded me to get whoever I find out of the Construct to the Fortress. I told her I remember my promise and I gave her my word that none of the ones I find will be left there to die.
She gave me a hug and wished me good luck.

There is no telling what I will find in the Construct this time, but whatever it may be, I will be ready.

//END LOG

Log Entry #027

Today was unusually quiet. The Fortress felt colder and emptier than it already is. Even during the war, it felt more alive.
The girls slept longer today and were still sleeping. I don’t really have a solid explanation for that, so I just assume it’s one of those days.
The only ones to wake up early today were Marcus, Fergus and Telorian. But even then, they usually wake up even earlier.

I decided to give Marcus a visit. I haven’t talked to him in a while, so I went to have a chat.

He started his day like he usually does - with a thick cigar in his teeth. Marcus put on his attire and went out of his room, still biting down on the cigar. He never took long with his morning routine.
Marcus reeked of hangover. He was probably drinking yesterday. Again.

Me: “Good morning, Marcus.”

Marcus: “Pff. When has it ever truly been good?”

Me: “With the amount of liquor you’re chugging… probably never.”

Marcus: “Aye, well a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do to stay sane.”

Me: “I notice your little habit a little more often recently. You really gotta slow down with the booze, Guardsman.”

Marcus: “Oh right, about that. We should probably do somethin’ about the fact that it’s runnin’ out.”

Me: “What do you mean? You’ve exhausted my supply of alcohol??”

Marcus: “You callin’ that a karkin’ supply?? I’ve had more guns than all those bottles of yours combined!”

Me: “Didn’t you have only like a couple variants of a lasgun?”

Marcus: “Precisely, lad! Say, you should really take me to a store. I’ll show you what a proper stash looks like.”

Me: “And I see you’re still smoking… You really need to quit that shit.”

Marcus: “What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.”

Me: “You’re right. Those, however, will kill you.”

Marcus: “Ah, right. Where are me manners…”

He reaches into a pocket and pulled out another cigar.

Marcus: “Want one?”

Me: “I don’t smoke. Someone like me should keep their lungs fully functional.”

Marcus: “Hoho! You’re so big and intimidatin’, but scared of nicotine?? Come on, lad. One smoke ain’t gonna kill ya.”

Me: “Wrong. I do enjoy some nicotine. It really helps relax after a long day of work.”

Marcus: “Really now? Never seen you smoke before.”

Me: “It’s because I don’t smoke. I use nicotine pouches.”

Marcus: “The Hell’s that?”

Me: “A small pouch you put under your lip that does practically the same thing, just doesn’t leave disgusting cigar smoke.”

Marcus: “You’re breakin’ me heart.”

Me: “Hey, have you noticed that the girls are sleeping in this morning?”

Marcus: "Can't really blame 'em. Didn't really wanna get out of bet myself. Today just feels... awful, really."

Me: "Yeah, I suppose it does."

Marcus: "And that thing that happened to Advie yesterday... yikes... She didn't really seem like herself ever since."

Me: "She wants the impossible. She wants to be the strongest."

Marcus: "You know, I don't really think so."

Me: "Hm?"

Marcus: "By the way she's actin', I'd say that she wants her presence to matter..."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Marcus: "Haven't you noticed? Every time she fights one of us, she always ends up on the losin' end."

Me: "That's because she doesn't have any experience. Nobody is born a flawless fighter."

Marcus: "I've met so many people like that in the Guard. People that focus on the one trait they're good at and make it their whole thing. There was this one Ogryn in me squad once. He was dumb as shite, but was so very good at smashin' stuff. People started commendin' him on it and so he started lovin' it even more. It was the one thing he was always good at."

Me: "You're comparing Advie to an Ogryn?"

Marcus: "Aye, in a way. I'm sure that if she doesn't give up, she'll eventually grow more than capable of handin' our asses to us."

Me: "She doesn't seem to have much of that spirit left in her..."

Marcus: "Maybe you should talk to her about it?"

Me: "Advie's not a big fan of sentimental talk."

Marcus: "Maybe you need the right kind of sentimental talk... Eh, just give it a try. What have you got to lose?"

Me: "I guess you've got a point."

Just as I was about to go see if Advie had woken up, I bumped into Telorian.
He was carrying a device I haven't seen before.

Me: "Telorian? What are you already up to?"

Telorian: "I am attempting to find the source of air quality deviation. The concentration of oxygen is slightly lower than yesterday."

Me: "It explains why people feel so sleepy today..."

Telorian: "Indeed. The Construct entities, much like generic humans, require correct concentrations to feel normal and perform task as intended. Maintenance of the air ducts is required. Such quality is unacceptable."

Me: "Can you... not refer to them as "Construct entities"? They're people, just like us."

Telorian: "With all due respect, my lord. They are nothing like us. They are far more frail and require constant care. I would not be conducting repairs if that was not the case."

Me: "Have you seen Advie today?"

Telorian: "Construct entity number 4 is currently in the central habitat module."

Me: "Did you at least apologize for what happened yesterday?"

Telorian: "I do not see any reason for me to do so."

Me: "You broke her jaw..."

Telorian: "We were sparring. Such incidents tend to happen."

Me: "Your heart is as cold and still as stone."

Telorian: "I do not have a heart, my lord. I replaced it with a Cardio-Implant. It was the first augment I ever received."

Me: "*sigh* Whatever. Get back to work."

Telorian: "Yes, my lord."

After that, I went to the central habitat module, also known as the "living room" of the Fortress.
Advie sat motionless on the couch. Her jaw was wired shut and her arm was in a cast. She was staring at nothing and looked miserable.
What caught my attention the most was the fact that the bruises on her jaw still haven't healed. Advie usually heals those in mere hours.

Me: "How are you?"

Advie: "..."

Me: "Is it about yesterday?"

Advie: "..."

Me: "Look, I know it's tough, but if you ever want to grow in terms of martial prowess, you have to be ready to take on challenges. Nobody is born perfect."

Advie: "..."

Me: “Advie.”

Advie: “...”

Me: “You’re angry.”

Advie slowly looked toward me.
Not furious. Not hateful. Just tired.

Advie: “I lost.”

Me: “Everyone loses.”

Advie: “Not you.”

The words came out muffled through the wiring in her jaw.
That one sentence lingered in the room longer than I expected. Because she was right. I could remember defeats. Failures. Entire worlds consumed before I could save them.
But never helplessness. Never weakness. Telorian gave her that feeling.

Advie: “I thought… if I kept fighting… eventually I'd become someone that mattered.”

Me: “You already matter.”

Advie looked away immediately after I said it. As if the statement itself offended her.

Advie: “That’s easy for you to say.”

Me: “Why?”

Advie: “Because people look at you and see certainty.”

Silence.

Advie: “People look at me and see something entertaining.”

That one hurt more than I expected. Because somewhere along the way, the Fortress had accidentally become an arena for her.
Sparring. Challenges. Competitions. We praised her when she fought well. We admired her endurance. But maybe nobody had taught her how to exist outside of conflict.
And maybe that was my fault.

Me: "Look, the rest of the guys might not agree with me, but life is far more than just one big fight. Combat is not the pinnacle of all life."

Advie: "Then what is??"

Me: "That's the neat part - nobody knows. We all just... find something we enjoy and live with it. But we shouldn't let that something define us."

Another moment of silence followed, and she seemed to reflect on what I had told her.

Advie: "I... *sigh* I don't know even... "

I leaned back on the couch and took a deep breath.

Me: "Listen, what I'm trying to say is that you really shouldn't take a couple lost sparring matches so close to your heart. You're an excellent fighter, make no mistake. But you lack what all of us have an abundance of - experience. You may yet become as ferocious as Telorian."

Advie: "I don't want to become like Telorian, I want to become like YOU! I want to be powerful, I want to be respected, I want to be remembered as someone imposing, I don't want to be the most powerful, I just don't want to be remembered as the newbie... The mere thought makes me sick!"

She let out another big sigh.

Advie: "I can't even beat an old man like Fergus... If I can't fight, then who am I?"

I sat a little closer and put my arm over her shoulder.

Me: "First of all, Fergus is far more than a mere old man. Second, I know exactly who you are. You are the strongest, most dedicated, toughest chick I've ever had the opportunity to meet. And you have some serious potential to one day become as powerful and respected as maybe even me."

Advie: "You... really think that?"

Me: "I know it."

After giving her a pat on the back, I got up.

Me: "Come on, let's go."

Advie: "Go where?"

Me: "Let's play a videogame or something, it doesn't matter."

Advie: "I don't like videogames..."

Me: "Why?"

Advie: "You just sit there, mash buttons and grow fat and lazy. Just look at Witch! She sits on her ass and plays videogames all day!"

Me: "You think Witch is fat?"

Advie: "Not yet..."

Me: "I ain't leaving you here, come on."

Advie: "Ugh... Fine..."

We made our way toward one of the recreation rooms near the lower habitation decks. The Fortress did not exactly have many places meant for leisure, but over the years I had repurposed several unused chambers for that exact reason.
Turns out people tend to lose their minds when all they see every day is steel walls and weapon systems.

Advie dragged her feet the entire way there.

Advie: “This is stupid.”

Me: “Probably.”

Advie: “Then why are we doing it?”

Me: “Because sitting alone in silence all day is even stupider.”

She crossed her arms and looked away.

Advie: “I still don't understand how staring at a screen is supposed to help.”

Me: “You'll survive.”

Advie: “Unfortunately.”

The recreation room itself was dimly lit. A large monitor covered most of the far wall, accompanied by an old couch that Marcus had somehow fallen asleep on several nights before. Empty bottles still sat beneath the table from one of his drinking sessions.

Advie stared at the setup suspiciously.

Advie: “This is where you come to relax?”

Me: “Sometimes.”

Advie: “That explains a lot about you.”

I ignored that and powered the console on. A few moments later, the familiar title screen appeared. Advie narrowed her eyes.

Advie: “M i n e c r a f t...”

Me: “You've heard of it?”

Advie: “Witch talks about it constantly. She also threatened to stab Marcus because he killed her sheep once.”

Me: “Reasonable reaction.”

Advie looked genuinely disturbed.

Advie: “You people are insane.”

I handed her the second controller.
Advie stared at it like I had given her a live explosive.

Advie: “Why does this thing have so many buttons?”

Me: “You'll only use like four of them.”

Advie: “Liar.”

A new world loaded in.
The two of us spawned in the middle of an open plains biome. Advie stood completely motionless for several seconds.

Advie: “...This is it?”

Me: “This is it.”

Advie: “There isn't even music.”

Right on cue, the soft piano soundtrack began playing.
Advie looked around slowly. Grass moved gently in the wind. A river cut through the plains nearby. Blocky clouds drifted across the sky in complete silence.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.

Advie: “...It's weirdly peaceful.”

Me: “Mhm.”

Advie immediately punched a tree.

Advie: “Okay now what?”

Me: “You gather resources.”

Advie: “For what?”

Me: “To build things.”

Advie: “Why?”

Me: “Because night comes eventually.”

That answer seemed to resonate with her more than I expected.

Advie quietly continued punching the tree until the block broke apart.
Advie blinked.

Advie: “I absorbed the wood.”

Me: “Inventory.”

Advie: “No, I absorbed the wood.”

Me: “Inventory.”

Advie: “This world obeys no laws.”

After a while, she slowly began understanding the basics.
Wood became tools. Tools became stone. Stone became shelter.

At first she treated the game like a survival exercise.
Efficient movements. Direct objectives. Constant vigilance. Then she discovered crafting.

Advie: “Wait... I can make stairs?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Advie: “Why would anyone need stairs?”

Several minutes later, she was aggressively redesigning the entrance to our small house because “the symmetry looked wrong.”

I leaned back slightly on the couch.

Me: “Thought videogames were stupid.”

Advie: “They are.”

She placed another stair block.

Advie: “Move.”

Me: “Why?”

Advie: “Your side of the house looks terrible.”

Me: “It's a dirt shack.”

Advie: “Exactly. Have some standards.”

That was probably the first genuinely normal conversation we'd had all day.
Then night fell. A zombie emerged from the darkness outside. Advie froze.

Advie: “What the fuck is that?”

Me: “A zombie.”

Advie: “Why is it approaching us like that?”

Me: “Because it wants to kill us.”

Advie immediately sat up straighter.

Advie: “Finally.”

She charged outside with a wooden sword and missed every swing.
The zombie hit her twice.

Advie: “THIS COMBAT IS AWFUL.”

Me: “Skill issue.”

Advie: “DON'T YOU DARE-”

A skeleton emerged from the darkness and shot her directly into the river.
Advie stared at the screen in disbelief. Then at me. Then back at the screen.

Advie: “I hate this game.”

She did not stop playing for another four hours.

//END LOG