The Lady's protection (or at least an inch of kevlar).

It wasn’t a surprise for John to find out that the Brighton family had their own personal armory underneath the manor, but the contents weren’t what he’d imagined. When Erica offered to replace his ruined armor before they headed out, he’d been anticipating rows of swords, pikes, hammers and other weapons that matched the Order’s medieval aesthetic. He’d expected to see shirts of chainmail and suits of full plate set aside for their ‘knights’. Instead…

The pentagonal room was laid out like a police armory. Locked cabinets full of precisely organized **** rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, pistols and more exotic weapons, including two rocket launchers, completely covered the two walls to their immediate left. There were several swords amongst the cases, but melee weaponry was comparatively rare. The third wall held shelves full of plastic briefcases of varying colors, some marked with designs or text he recognized. Grenades, C4, biohazardous material and… radiation hazard? John recoiled from a case resting on the ground that looked distressingly like it was made out of pure lead. The Brightons’ couldn’t possibly have a nuclear warhead, could they?

Erica was less perturbed than he was by the presence of more guns than anyone could possibly have any sane need to own, and she casually walked in, turning to the right to browse the contents of the last corner of the armory. A rack of tactical and bulletproof vests, with the occasional leather cuirass or chainmail among them, completed the full range of paramilitary equipment. There was even a crate of riot helmets opened underneath the armor.

“What size do you wear?” his partner pulled a black vest with a thin layer of flexible armor plating and more pockets than he could possibly need at the waist off the rack. It looked like something a SWAT officer might wear to a riot. “Hm…” She grabbed a set of simple chainmail and compared the two while looking him up and down.

John tugged at the t-shirt he was wearing, “Medium, I think? Maybe a large?”

The berserker’s lips pursed in thought, then she put the chainmail back, tossing the riot gear to John. “We’ll go with that,” she said. “Just in case we run into some trigger-happy guards at Vanessa’s place.”

“You think that’s going to happen?” John asked as Erica sifted through the rest of the available equipment to pass him a set of armguards that matched the chestpiece.

She shrugged, “Anything’s possible. I’d rather not take risks. Alright. Follow me. Some of us can’t keep all our stuff in a broken pocket dimension. I need to swing by my locker to change.”

They left the armory and re-entered the maze of hallways that spread throughout the manor and tunneled beneath it. Like the vault, the armory was located several floors below ground, and their surroundings felt increasingly claustrophobic. The walls here lacked the adornment and rich coloration of the upper floors, and the air tasted dry. Pale, halogen lighting bathed everything in a stale light that properly suited the atmosphere of militaristic austerity. Rooms were labeled in blocky, black text that was printed above their doorways.

As they passed ‘Paladin Quarters - Alpha’, John caught a glimpse of two people inside: a man and a woman playing chess while dressed in modern military gear. The woman locked eyes with him and gave him a very slight nod of acknowledgement before pushing her rook forwards, “Check.”

“Damnit. Can’t you go easy on me for once, Jen?” grumbled the other soldier as they passed out of earshot.

Room after room, John’s sense of the Order’s aesthetic and capabilities was turned upside down. The ‘Hospitalier’ seemed to be a modern doctor’s office, connected to advanced surgical facilities, but that was only the beginning. There was a fully stocked cafeteria, the ‘Mess Hall’, as big as the manor’s rear garden, at least two more armories, and above all else, he counted no less than two dozen men and women dressed for combat throughout the complex.

I should think twice before I crack jokes about the Brightons being out of touch… they have a damn army down here… Hell, maybe they do have a nuke. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised. Why they’d need one, that’d be the real question. I hope I never find out.

Their path briefly crossed through a large corridor, distinct amidst the rest. It was three times as wide as the rest, broad enough that one might be able to fit two small cars down it at the same time, and the floor was covered in text in a language he guessed was Latin.

‘In nomine Dominae et Custodum Sanctae:
Anima dominae, sanctifica me.
Corpus terrae, consolare me.
Sanguis stellae, aufuge me.
Ab hoste maligno defende me.
In horae mortis meae voca me.’

…I have no idea what that means.

The letters stretched down the floor of the hall to a gigantic iron vault door embedded at the end, flanked on each side by two armed guards. Erica quickly led him past, grabbing his wrist and almost dragging him out of view of the soldiers before John could ask what he was looking at. In fact, the sight was almost immediately overwhelmed by the panic of his partner leading him straight into the female side of a set of locker rooms.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he struggled to free himself from the berserker’s grip, wrestling with the woman’s inhuman strength. “I’m not- I can’t be in here! Let me… go!”

She released him at that, looking behind with a slight wince mixed into her expression, then gestured at the locker room around them. It was just the two of them. “Relax, dude. We’ll be in and out in a minute. Do your thing and I’ll grab my stuff.” Erica started pulling off her shirt as she walked towards a locker that looked identical to the rest. She didn’t notice, or more likely, didn’t care that John stared, dazed, at her bra as she rifled around. After a second, John snapped out of it and pulled up his inventory to shift around his gear.

The set bonus from his Hydra Scale Armor was no longer active, which he grudgingly admitted was fair. Half of the armor set had been utterly destroyed and what was left was in rough shape. At least his new armor would more than make up for the lost protection.

Universal Tactical Ballistic Vest
<Excalibur Armaments>
Designed to be as widely applicable as possible, the standard armor of Order Paladins is well suited for any Abyssal environment and comes with enough pockets to store up to four items.
15 Armor; Minor Anti-magic (5 resistance), Bulletproof

Bulletproof
Reduces damage taken by gunfire to the protected area by 75% and renders it nonlethal. This ability only works while equipment condition is ‘Intact’ or better.

Universal Ballistic Gauntlets
<Excalibur Armaments>
Reinforced to absorb the shocks of most light slashing and bludgeoning weapons, these armguards are commonly used by Order Paladins.
8 Armor; Deflecting (Minor, Arms)

Deflecting (Minor, Arms)
Negates all damage from grazing attacks that land on a protected area.

Wow. This is a lot better than the stuff I was using. Maybe I should’ve grabbed more earlier. I wonder if they’d let me pocket another vest on my way out…

While he was at it, John re-arranged his second equipment load to include the Ouroboros Band and to use the t-shirt he’d been wearing instead of his uniform. He also equipped Vanessa’s broken locket in his neck slot. Thus far, he’d been able to cast with the damned thing in his inventory, but John wasn’t feeling up for taking any more chances until he could figure out how to unbind himself from the Spell Focus.

Next were his loose items. Some were utterly useless, such as his history textbook and the single remaining Unit of Atmospheric Oxygen. He hesitantly withdrew the latter from his inventory and the air erupted from his palm in a loud pop that blew back his hair. His partner gave him a concerned look that John tried to placate with a gesture. When she shrugged, he returned his attention to the Unit of Seawater x 3 in his bag. Those… he’d let them stay where they were for now. He reorganized the medical supplies and potions to be separate from things like his keys, wallet and phone. That left the items that were more… unusual.

John dragged the Solaris Keystone off to one side. He still had no idea what the thing was, other than ‘important’, and if there was one thing he did know, it was that he had no sense of scale for magic. The idea of turning it over to the Order briefly passed through his mind, but he quashed that thought. He’d found it, it was his by explorer’s right, and, most of all, he didn’t fully trust his employers. Erica was one thing, Moira was another, and Lord Brighton…

No. The keystone would remain in his possession for now.

That left two items, rewards from recent achievements. A box of Golden Fleece Condoms and a weapon called the Fang of the Deep Sea. John stared for a moment at the condoms, contemplating the irony that they were an achievement reward for barebacking a girl. He’d asked Tryn about using one, so it was probably fine. Could goblins even get pregnant from humans? He didn't think so, maybe he should ask, but… still. Gaia sure had fantastic timing. He moved them to be separate and easily found, just in case.

Better to have something and not need it than need it and not have it. Isn’t that how the saying goes? Whatever. If I need these, I’ll be properly ‘equipped’.

John scoffed at his own terrible joke and pulled the last item out of his inventory, turning it over in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. The Fang of the Deep Sea was beautiful; the knife’s surface looked almost fluid and reflected light with a pale shimmer that reminded him of refracted sunlight on the sand floor of the Everdeep. The handle appeared to be made out of polished, smooth bone that was somehow fused to the blade.

Fang of the Deep Sea
[Unique]
A replicant dagger created from the melding of Oceanum and the jawbones of multiple apex predators.
“From the tide we came, and to the sea’s embrace we will return. - Mariner’s Vow”
Base Damage: 10 water
Attribute Focus: Agility/Strength
When drawn, it splits into rippling echoes of itself that may be thrown without losing the original.
Critical hits will induce temporary drowning.

Now that’s something. More damage than my old daggers and some crazy sounding effects. “Critical hits will induce temporary drowning”? I don’t know how that works, but that’s for whoever I’m throwing these at to figure out.

It was a no-brainer to swap out Lerna’s Jaws for the Fang of the Deep Sea, and the moment he did, the dagger’s surface began swirling like a whirlpool. John hesitantly reached towards it and the entire thing liquefied as his fingers touched the surface. With a sound reminiscent of a wave crashing down onto the shore, the water-metal poured from one hand to the other and reformed into an identical dagger in each.

Whoa…

He looked between them, trying to figure out which was the original and which one was the copy, but it was impossible to tell them apart. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter too much when it came to throwing them at stuff…

Upon dismissing the weapons they both melted in his hands into water, dripping to the floor and disappearing, leaving his fingers inexplicably dry. John immediately opened his inventory, sighing in relief when he confirmed that his new weapon hadn’t just evaporated.

In the corner of his vision, Erica pulled down her pants and grabbed a pair of complicated looking leather leggings reinforced with metal and a pair of dark brown shorts. John tried to concentrate on his inventory, fumbling through his stock of potions, transferring some to the pouches in his gear… and utterly failed to not stare at his partner’s ass as she bent over. Her underwear was more utility than fashion, simple, black and sporty, but the tight fabric clung to her body. His breath caught at the clear sight of Erica’s naughty bits, and his gaze lingered until she stood back up and gathered her hair into a ponytail. She glanced back at him, and, upon catching him checking her out, simply raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks burning as he **** his attention back to his inventory. His partner only snorted and swayed her hips from side to side, taunting him, before sitting on a bench to pull on her armor. The shorts provided sufficient decency, but scarce armor. In fact, her gear was almost as mismatched as his was. Her chest was protected by a light leather cuirass, but her arms were nearly bare aside from a couple metal bracelets, and as he watched, she pulled taut a series of belts that held on her leg armor.

The berserker tucked a couple raven feathers into her hair and brushed herself off as she stood up. “What?” she asked, hand on her hip. “You’re not the only one who scavenges for gear. All that ready-made stuff doesn’t fit my frame.” Erica patted her chest, which miraculously fit into her top. “You would not believe how much tailoring I have to do.”

“Maybe I can help? I’ve got a skill that lets me make equipment, but I’ve never tried making something for someone else.”

“What can’t you do?” she rolled her eyes with a grin. “No thanks, dude. I know exactly how I like my armor, and I prefer wearing my own stuff. I need it to be flexible in the right spots.” Erica stretched, groaning softly as she shifted in her armor. Noticing John was watching her again, she turned the noise into a languid moan. She even shuddered so her chest would jiggle slightly.

“Okay, you can stop fucking with me now.” This time it was John’s turn to roll his eyes as his partner gave him a wide grin.

“I could, but I’m not going to.”

“Come on!”

Erica crossed her arms and gave him a look that spoke volumes about her intentions, but when she spoke she relented, “Pussy. C’mon, dude. Let’s go bag the bad guys.”