The brutes arrange, and attend, a marriage.
@internutter/challenge-02828-g271-war-makes -- Anon Guest
It was one hell of a surprising wedding for the high society of Ladidah. Half the guests were heavily armed and on oath to keep the safeties on, "unless someone wants to flakk with us." That half was Bergeddin's Brutes, a rough, tough, order of space marines who activated when someone wanted the problem to no longer exist.
The other half was the high-class, high-ticket, high society of Ladidah. Kudge had started calling it that and Liz encouraged it. Neither of them liked that half of the new family about to launch.
Ladidah insisted on flowers, arches, a garden, pomp and circumstance. Bergeddin's Brutes insisted on intense security measures and battle-rated livesuits ready to rock and roll somewhere in the fancy outfits.
The Ladidah fashion set were having conniptions.
Grid explained it best, "We've all got enemies with big flakkin' guns. This event has been plastered all over the info-nets for three weeks and counting. Those assholes are going to attend with their big flakkin' guns."
"Well, I never," scoffed the co-ordinator.
"If we ain't armed, you never will," said Liz, possibly on purpose. It was clear who was going to get the most holiday visits.
Nevertheless, it went ahead. Broadcast to all interested parties for a modest fee. Available on demand for an even more modest fee. Pomp. Circumstance. Ritual centuries in the making... and the Alliance's most discrete battle-ready instant livesuits under both dress and fancy suit, just in case.
The Vorax tried to raid it during the bridal dance.
Lady Elizabeth Montgomery-Clyde, now Liz Wekka, spotted the incoming shield breachers. "Assholes on my three! HUT HUT!" She slammed her livesuit button.
Thirty-eight Hours worth of dress and Fifteen Years worth[1] of gemstone beads scattered into fragments as Liz's livesuit ruptured the dress' infrastructure. Roughly the same value of suit followed soon after.
The Brutes chorused, "BRUTES HOO-AH!" And some truly interesting armaments began to power up with ominous whines.
The Mediks in the team deployed an Instant Shelter, which was bug-ugly, but served a purpose. Hustling the Ladidah faction inside was a battle in and of itself.
"I'd rather die than be seen in there."
"Those are your options. Live," pointing to the bug-ugly mass of impressive shielding, "or die," pointing towards the incoming Vorax.
It was amazing how many chose to live. Just so they could complain about it afterwards.
The Vorax were suitably and more than adequately repelled. So, too, were all the normal citizens of Ladidah.
[1] Time is a unit of currency in the Alliance, thus, conspicuous consumption takes centuries.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / oorka]
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