Being transformed into an Aveeran, fortunately, hadn't destroyed his sense of balance, but many things still felt off–chief among them, the overwhelming increased fidelity of his vision and hearing. He needed to be mobile, and he needed to be deadly, right now.
As if on cue, runic text appeared in his vision, slowly unfurling into letters and symbols he could understand. Halsey was still with him.
Okay, Shawn, I'm synced up with you. You got something useful! I was right about you!
Halsey, this is a bad time for a tutorial! We're in a crisis! He remembered that he could project thoughts to that presence, this Halsey, keeping his promise to keep her existence a secret. He gently tested his balance on his new feet, observing how Regia and Telga stood, the way he envisioned they spread their body weight. His muscle response was sharp, almost instant, and he spread the taloned toes widely, for balance. But the elongated ankle joint threw him off as he tried to move in a way that wasn't part of his natural gait, he almost stumbled. Claire grabbed him before he could topple.
"Shawn, I don't want to question your sanity, but are you still you?" she asked worriedly.
"I'm Shawn Pentecost, born August sixth, at Baystate Medical Center. My parents are Marie and Jackson Pentecost. You told me in freshmen year of college that you had a crush on Nancy, from your art class. I almost died of hypothermia when I tried to rescue Maggie, when she broke through the ice on the river when I was fifteen. Satisfied?" he asked warily. She let out a measured sigh of relief.
"Yeah, you're you. You're just a different you. Wow, you're tall now." It wasn't until she said it, that he realized he was at least several centimeters taller–almost to Telga's height. "Can you stand?"
"Yeah." He could feel his brain slowly mapping out the movements, muscle memory was returning to a form he'd never possessed before, and he kept watching the motions of the other aveeran, the way they shifted their bodies, and their leg stride. He felt like every nerve was wiring in real time; he felt steady, after a few seconds. He narrowed his gaze at the door. "How long before they're here, where's our exit?"
"Portal is charging, down the hall! Five minutes!" the rusty red and green feathered Aveeran with emerald-colored eyes got his attention, with a perpetual scowl on his face, accented by a faint scar line where feathers didn't grow, just above his eye. "You idiots picked a bad time to try to throw things to chance! I hope you got a gestalt that doesn't kill all of us!"
Almost as if on cue, more runic text appeared.
Shawn, the gestalts, you have choices to make. I don't remember much or If I have been barred access, but you can control what happens next. There are a few configurations of the Etteria that may be useful to you!
Halsey, I'm barely standing here, and we've got enemies at the gate! It was disorienting to see this presence overlaying his vision while the chaos swirled. He motioned to Garrett, and pointed to a set of fabric armor sitting on the table, similar to his. "Help me put that on. I can fight."
"Shawn, you are in no shape to be fighting!" Claire protested.
"Then pitch in. It sounds like we need to hold out for five minutes."
"Shawn, you are insane." Her lip trembled, but she slowly nodded, and set the casing down on the table, only to grab another rifle, examine it, and loaded more rounds. "Cripes guys, what other tech did you borrow from Earth?"
"Whatever the summoned can bring with them or remember how to reconstruct," Garrett answered. "Our tech is all over the place, as a result. Doesn't help that our planet is a giant jigsaw puzzle, either." Shawn in the meantime was trying to feel out just what he could do. He could feel a vibration in his body, like there was an energy coursing just below his feathers.
His feathers. He couldn't even fathom this one just yet. Halsey picked up on his distress.
I need your input, from the following options. These abilities are tied to your personality, I have a limited list from my end. Information seems restricted.
Halsey, what exactly are you? Some kind of magical construct? An artificial intelligence? One of those annoying feathered gods that are taking a wrecking ball to my life? He really hoped that last one wasn't true.
I don't know. I'm something more than I was before. I remember the connection to something greater, a starburst of vast power. I remember the cutting blade of being severed, and a long darkness, cold and uncaring. Now I'm tapped into you, but a lingering thread to that greatness remains. That's our ticket to survive.
I think I've narrowed down your choices. You could be a brute. A destroyer. There would be no barrier you couldn't break, no will you could not bend, no enemy you couldn't tear apart.
No. Anything but that. That's not who I am.
But it was an influence on you. Once.
He winced and shook his head. No. I want nothing to do with that. I will never be that man.
A hunter, then? You took a liking to the outdoors, and with this, there would be no trap you can't sniff out, no shot you couldn't make, no wilderness you could not navigate and make it your home.
That's on the right track. But, what else could we configure it to be?
I have one more that might be a match for your personality. It would build on your knowledge and your passions. You could be an Arcanist Engineer. You could make the impossible, producible! There would be no problem you couldn't plan and prepare for!
He felt like that was the right choice, before she even finished. I think I know what I need, Halsey.
Alright, but a warning: There is no means of reversing the choice, once made. The Etteria in your body can only configure one of these. There may be more ways to enhance and strengthen it, later...but I think this choice, is the most important one of all.
Training, or playing with dangerous magical rocks? Yeah, I won't be touching any more Etteria anytime soon.
All this information was fed to him while he strapped on armor over his ruined clothes, and he noted the snugness of the vest and leggings on his new form. He tried not to tear the fabric with his new claws, though his finger motions felt precise, and not lacking dexterity.
Garrett called out that the invaders were approaching the bulkhead. He helped him secure the vest over his wings, and he noted the strength and fast response of these new limbs. He felt the rush of blood to these new extremities–they seemed quite sensitive, and he could feel minute air currents. But his focus was on this immense choice before him–on choosing his future gestalt, with this strange presence in his head guiding him. One option, he could rule out immediately.
Alright, I can rule out being a brute. Never a brute.
He pondered the other two choices. Being a hunter was one he might have a leaning toward. He liked the idea of being self-sufficient, able to work independently. He'd spent his early twenties with friends, practicing camping and hunting–activities he still enjoyed. But…was it the right call, for now?
He threw on a pair of armored bracers that Garrett handed him, while a charge continued to build in the background. "Shawn, they're almost at the door. You better be ready!" Garrett insisted. Shawn clenched his new beak firmly, eyes narrowed on that last barrier between them, and the unknown enemy.
"Just about," he answered while eyeing the weapon on the table. Functionally, it had all the appearance of a lever action firearm. If he didn't know better, it could have been made by Winchester or Ruger. But, created by an avian alien.
Being a hunter would be a good play, Halsey. I'm a good shot, and know how to hunt already, and know how to learn the lay of the land.
But, he had one more choice.
Becoming an Arcanist engineer could be the winning move because it was core to his identity. He could design almost anything, or could stand to be a bulwark against what was coming with innovation and daring. But, what would help the most, here?
If I may, Shawn? What do you stand by, in life?
Making lives better, and having a plan for any problem. That means, that I've got one logical choice to make. I just need to be brave enough to take a leap of faith. And that I need to live long enough to put it to good use.
He took a shaky breath before he grabbed the rifle, and checked if a round was chambered, by edging by the lever action ever so gently. This felt intimately familiar. This part of him, the training, had not left him.
Garrett gave him a knowing nod. "You're familiar with that?"
"It's close enough." He closed the action fully and examined the feed tube slide, before grabbing the alchemical rounds in a specialized case. The size of the rounds indicated substantial stopping power–he hoped.
"They're almost here. Everyone not defending, fall back to the portal room!" Garret bellowed out as a warning to the anxious people–mostly Aveeran, though there were, strangely, a few humans. He also spotted two wolf-like people who fell back to the barricaded door down the hall. Claire loaded a rifle, and a few compounds off the bench, examining them. "This looks dangerous," she muttered.
"Claire, fall back. Keep that crystal and yourself guarded. We might still need it," he insisted before he shouldered the rifle, and moved swiftly to cover. Regia, Garrett, and Telga did the same. He took a measured breath, and took the plunge on his decision.
Halsey, we're going with the arcanist engineer. I'll build myself a solution to topple a god. I can't outpower him, but maybe, I can outthink him.
I knew that might be the choice you would make. Mapping Etteria pathways…
A whirl of power crackled across his body, and he shuddered involuntarily as those wisps of gold and teal energy circled his body, less painful than the transformation, but still persistent enough. He felt a spider web of pain through his extremities, then gravitated towards his core, out to the tips of the wings. He felt wired, and alive.
"Shawn, you're glowing again, please don't catch on fire," Claire insisted from her vantage point.
"I'm good." His answer was throaty, and he could feel the power resonating within him. He focused on the door, where a thunderous banging sound was approaching. "Keep a suppressive fire on the door. We need a constant volley of rounds to keep them suppressed. Call out your reloads. Garrett, how many rounds are in the tube?"
"Six, plus one in the chamber," he answered, eyes peering down the sights of his rifle. "Save your gestalts for when you have to reload. I've got a gestalt that gives me precision motor movements, and I can burst speed my body for short periods. Also, I'm a bit late on the greetings. But, glad to have you, Shawn. Also, sorry that you got transformed."
"It could have been worse. I could have gotten turned into a slime girl." Garret let out a cawing laugh, even as he rested the stock of the rifle on the corner of the wall, steadying his aim. Shawn felt rock solid, his limbs tense and controlled. More glyphs appeared, and persisted, near the bottom of his eyes, but not obscuring his vision.
I can feel a trace of the Etteria working, it's configuring your physiology. I'm still trying to figure out what, exactly, you'll be able to do.
How do I use these abilities?
You'll feel it by instinct, the Etteria seems to help people figure it out on their own by trial and error. For these, you will direct your ability through your limbs. You feel that buzz through your body, now? You are brimming with mana energy, and dangerously overloaded.
I suggest you use it, so you don't…you know, become fried Aveeran. The Etteria is forming pathways through your body, like an extra nerve center.
He let out a nervous laugh that had Claire on edge. "Uh, are you…okay over there?" she asked anxiously.
The door resounded with an enormous impact. He sighted down the weapon, feeling energy coursing through his claw tips. "Claire, I feel profoundly messed up. So let's not die here."
Another impact. The door deformed inwards, the steel buckling, and a few rivets popped out. "How effective are these rounds against organic targets?" he asked Garrett, never taking his eye off his target–the doorway under assault.
"Brace your shoulder tightly. They're effective enough. Anyone without magical shielding is in for a bad time." Shawn took the moment to cycle a round with one fluid pump of the lever action, just to check how well the action worked, and caught the ejected casing, mid-air, in a burst of dexterity. He quickly inserted it back into the tube. "Done this before?" Garrett asked with keen interest.
"For hunting, and stationary targets."
Garrett chuckled in response. "Don't hesitate. They won't. Telga, you fall back first, down the hall. Displace, fire, displace. We're buying time."
The banging sound stopped–and for two seconds, all sound seemed to stop. Shawn could feel the heat of power in his hand, as if looking for an outlet.
The door burst inwards and skidded to the ground with a deafening clang, and Shawn shouldered the rifle, aiming at the foes beyond. The brute in front, a monstrous wolf-like humanoid clad in a blue and black uniform with piecemeal metal armor, stood at the forefront. Black and grey fur matted his body, and he pointed at them, fangs bared and poisonous green eyes fixated on them in hatred.
"Bring me Telga alive. Kill the rest." A searing ball of fire appeared in the wolven foe's hand, and he lobbed it right at him.