Monomachiarum is a multifandom experiece that takes the characters into the chaotic future of the 30th century in the great expanse of space. Our lore is a combination of worlds brought in from other franchises, lore created by the site founder, and user-submitted information in order to make a vast and diverse setting. Add your pages to our grand story no matter who your characters might be or where they came from before. This is a place meant to explore possibilities and open new doors. Canons and OCs are welcome, just so long as they can fit into the setting with a little bit of reasonable modification here and there if necessary. So what are you waiting for? Join us today! If you'd like to get to know our community more, feel free to check out our Discord channel.
May 2023 It's been hectic this last year, but we are alive and celebrating our fifth year of adventure and tales. A lot has been worked on to help make the Monoverse one that everyone can enjoy and explore their story while becoming a part of the greater cosmos. All of you, new and long time players, stay safe, and see you in the Sea of Stars!
Well shit. He was right. AGAIN. It was starting to become a common occurrence, something the cyborg was starting to dread given that his inferences were less than optimistic. A single pat to either side of his legs verified that the automatic weapons in his grasp where indeed loaded, the clips still holding and seemingly functional in the partially-warped weapons. Eliza was locked in her armour, out of the battle but seemingly safe, allowing him to focus on keeping the fungal undead away from him.
The sound of grinding metal would echo across the chamber, cut by short periods of silence as his fingers twitch across the triggers, attempting to fire them in short burst, sparing both the weapons and the ammo, spreading it across the shambling mob, prioritising the ones that got a little bit too close to his own person, making up for his poor aim by simply holding the barrel roughly by the creature's heads before firing, the high velocity rounds shredding through the spongy mass with disturbing ease.
The click of his empty magazines seems to to herald the appearance of Weir, the man's speech echoing across his brain like a wave of white noise, causing him to grit and grind his teeth, his vision blurring as he turned to face him. At that moment he knew two things. One, the Spartan's weapons would do absolutely nothing against Weir. The creature had survived two ONC grenades and a trip through the singularity...physical harm was no longer a concern. And two, the device held by Miller would work. The core was tired. Angry. Prone to the same fallacies most creatures fall prey too in such conditions. By tipping its hand so heavily, by calling Weir back from the Void with such a singular purpose, it proved them they were right.
The guns fall down to the metal floor bellow as taloned feet dug into the grating, providing him with enough grip to begin a mad dash, a straight lie of pure acceleration, diving into the Spartan's line of fire, uncaring as shots land along the plates of his right arm, shattering the ones across his shoulder as he reached out to grab Weir, intending to lift him off the ground. He couldn't throw him into the ground. He couldn't pin him to a wall. He The entire chamber was but an extension of his being, perhaps the entire ship...He only needed to keep him busy for a minute.
A burning flash, the bright blue beam, and then Weir realized his hand was missing. He was turning just as another bright blue shaft of light ripped through his chest, then another through his opposing shoulder. Another beam, then another, penetrating his limbs and body with a ferocity that had surprised even him.
He barely had time to turn before he felt the full fury of the cyborg deckhead slam into him. Another beam laced through his lung even as it shattered the armored plates of Eligos' shoulder. He was twisted around, another beam managing to blow through his head, leaving a gaping hole almost three inches wide while narrowly missing anything vital in the cyborg's body. He slumped, allowing Eligos to easily lift his form while Miller recovered from the coolant pool and made sure grenade was primed.
A breath as he launched himself back up the ramps, mach speed slugs slamming into a pod born monstrosity that tried to give chase. It was just the masses of fungal flesh forming a web between him and the eye now. Miller took the chance, climbing the webbing with intensity and purpose. He was feet away. It was panicking. He could see it. The singularity grenade was ready to end this nightmare of eight hundred and thirty years.
"Miller! Don't!"
And Weir's desperate plea was in vain as the man rammed his hand holding the grenade into the eye. A screech as its broken eyelids slammed shut, but a moment too late. Instead of pushing his hand away, Miller was now trapped by the steeltrap grip of the core's eyelids. He gave a tell as the webbing he had climbed on crumbled, forcing him to hold on for dear life.
He wasn't getting free, and the entity was counting on it. It expected him to be afraid. It had forgotten eight centuries, then. "I'm already dead." His hand holding the remote detonator was raised as he held his thumb over the trigger switch. "And I don't have anything left to fear."
And then the eyelid released, allowing him to fall, but the switch was already pressed. A blinding flash, and matter tore away from the mass as it screeched. A swirling torus formed, arching out from the collapse point and pulling violently on the eye mass. It was already collapsing inward as its tissue was stretched and compressed into the infinitely dense point, much of the surrounding brain matter tearing apart bit by bit while the ship itself gave a scream. The gravitational radius managed to catch Miller just as he hit the deck. A long moment as it began to pull on him, even as the ship would scream and howl. More off the central mass was pulled into the void of nothingness, a sickening crunch was heard. More was pulled in, tearing the central mass into pieces.
Weir was yelling in rage. Yet it was also fear. Knowing what was becoming of his creation. And seeing that, knowing what would be next. "We are not done…"
And then came the flash, blinding everyone, and then...darkness.
It was gone.
As soon as everyone could see, the heart mass was gone, as were Miller and Weir. All that remained was the dais, which had been pulled and twisted up from the pull of the micro-singularity, and the worn and ancient corpse that lay at the base in the coolant pool, with a tag now visible on its coveralls; MILLER.
The ship rumbled, the chamber now bleeding out from the openings along the sphere walls and ceilings. No screams came with the heart-brain mass gone, collapsed into the void of the singularity grenade. The sensation of descent continued, and even now increased as the coolant began to roil and bubble, signaling that something was happening.
Another thrust of downward force, possibly shaking the remaining humans off their feet. The ship's structure began to phase in and out again, the flesh and bone of the 'living' creature returning in bursts to the metal and frame of the vessel's original state. The descent velocity increased again, the ship shaking more violently as it continued toward whatever final destination awaited. The core chamber completed its transformation back to the mechanical gravity drive core, with the wounds and broken spires reverting to gashed walls and collapsed spikes of metal.
And then, abruptly, one last violent shudder, and the ship was still. Gravity faded for a moment, then resumed seconds later to drop anything floating back to the deck. After that, it was silent. The chamber was like a tomb, and no sounds of the unnatural swarms in the rest of the ship could be heard. Except for the fact that power was maintaining atmosphere and gravity, the engineering section of the Event Horizon was dead.
The entity was no more, and the burnt and crushed remains of what had been the gravity drive's magnetic rings and platform were proof that the heart of the vessel was gone. The only thing left was to deal with the drifting hulk of the vessel's drive section, and to leave it all behind.
And then the intercom systems crackled to life. Something was said over the communications system, a language that sounded vaguely like ancient Terran latin. Unfortunately, the language spoken was not coming through the galactic translator as part of the database. But one word stood out as one that might well mean exactly was it sounded like.