Before the story starts, I’d love to introduce you to Firefight! It has, over the last year, become my favorite Sci-Fi Tabletop Strategy game. It utilizes alternating activations, universal special rules (USRs) and is overall just a fantastic game! This story is set in that universe and centers around Skretch, a Master Creeper. It is important to note that the lore/fluff for Veer Myn, or anyone else for that matter, isn’t thoroughly fleshed out yet, so I took a lot of liberties and took inspiration from some “other” factions and books I’ve read. Thanks!
Solace IX
Lumina
Solace IX.
Earth reborn-or so the travel ads claim. They usually depict pictures of luscious greens and snow-capped mountains, screens filled with happy faces getting back to nature. “A vacation resort for any sort”. But the truth behind the adverts is one of neon lights, smoggy cities packed dense enough to be a black hole, consuming all that gets caught within its event horizon.
Tucked deep within those neon cities are shadows so dark and harrowing even organized crime fears them. Within those deepest shadows are where people, and their belongings, simply cease to exist. It is in these chthonic recesses where Skretch has made his home, and in his home he doesn’t just survive, he thrives.
Within this gloom he lurks about, his whiskers twitching at the shifting air currents. The gentle hum of a nearby reactor echoes in his ears. It is unpleasant, but it makes the job of stealth that much easier. His eyes dart in the same twitchy cadence as his whiskers, and he watches as his creepers stalk through the shadows.
“Yes.” Skretch said to himself. The word stretched like time as it left his muzzle.
His arms twitched and moved spastically as he directed traffic, sending his creepers to their positions. The filthy spoiled surface-meat had seemingly abandoned this reactor, despite it being in good operational condition. It was now Skretch’s job to discretely reroute some of that delicious power back to the brood for fueling the surge that would end Lumina.
He watches as the moments tick by. He watches as his team moves in unison, as if they were all one restless entity jerking around with skittish motion. He watches as they begin their work diverting wires and cables towards the brood, ensuring the matriarch gets her fill. Soon, however, one of his creepers materializes from the shadows, ensuring that he keeps his head lower than Skretch’s as he approaches the Master Creeper.
“Yes? What is it?” Skretch asks, his voice dripping with impatience. His speech is slower and more deliberate than the other creepers-a product of spending countless hours honing his mastery of language. Skretch finds the twitchy spasms of speech that other Veer Myn speak with to be a mark of ignorance.
“Skretch. Master Skretch. There is a skitter-band of surface-meat approaching.” Skabbix’ eyes darted down one of the subterranean tunnels as he spoke, indicating the direction they were coming from.
“Surface-meat know we are here?” Skretch wonders out loud. He thinks of all the possible plans of action, his brain thinking in the same spasmodic pace his body moves in.
“Purge-things, Master Skretch. Purge-Things. And they carry a Nest-Burner.”
The purge-things make Skretch reel, but the words Nest-Burner fill him with dread. He fights the urge to shrink and cower as he thinks back to the many times he has seen the destruction of purge-things firsthand, eradicating brood-clusters with ease as they sweep through with their nest-burners. He swallows hard and his large eyes narrow. He remembers who he is.
“I am Skretch. Skretch the Master Creeper. Skretch the Gnawer of Shadows. Skretch the Deep Scourge!” He loudly whispers.
Skabbix stares at his Master Creeper briefly, his head cocks to the side as he tries to understand what is running through Skretch’s mind before responding, “Yes, Master Skretch. Yes yes.
Skretch looks angry at Skabbix’ interruption.
“Skabbix! We must melt into shadow. We cannot fight Purge-things head on. We must skulk. We must stalk. Purge-things like to shoot. We get in tight. We must taste the stench of surface-meat when we pry them open. We must blast them from their clang-suits. No purge-things will leave alive.”
“Yes! Master Skretch!” Skabbix is intoxicated at the thought of a fight with the purge-things.
“Gnawtch!” Skretch whispers loudly over the hum of the reactor, and soon a patchy young nestling appears in front of Skretch.
“Master Creeper,” he whispers. He stares at Skretch, unafraid.
“Gnawtch. Skretch, the Master Creeper, has plans. You will continue to route the power. Run the brood-cables. Gnawtch does not stop, no matter what Gnawtch sees or hears.” Skretch eyes the nestling carefully, studying his reaction.
“Gnawtch is not afraid of purge-things, Master Creeper!” He replied with a dangerous vigour.
The nestling had never encountered purge-things, so he had no reason to fear them. Skretch had come across them many times, and Skretch knew there was a keen intelligence in being afraid. Their powered suits made them near-unstoppable, especially one-on-one, and their precision with the laser-rifles they carried with them were especially lethal. One purge-thing could decimate a whole brood-squad of stalkers, especially with their nest-burners.
“Gnawtch is not afraid because Gnawtch is stupid,” Skretch snapped, “Skretch has seen the purge things. Skretch has fought the purge-things. Skretch knows the violence it will take to kill them all. Skretch knows how to creep in tight. When Skretch kills the purge-things, Skretch gets so close he can smell the purge-thing’s stench through their clang-suits. Skretch is scared. But Skretch will use that fear. Gnawtch is not scared, and will die brave and stupid!”
“Gnawtch will do as Master Creeper commands,” Gnawtch replies. He isn’t afraid of the purge-things, but Skretch’s visceral demeanor gives him a nervous tick. “The brood-cables will be run. The brood will feed. Gnawtch is proud to have this honor.”
“Good.” Skretch drags the word out in a death rattle. “Creepers! Melt into shadow with Skretch!” As he speaks he disappears into the darkness. He vanishes into the black depths of the industrial undercity, and his creepers follow—melting into shadow, twitch by twitch.