“Well, this changes things.” Aren murmured as he looked out the window over the Pit from where he sat to lunch with Zana and Talia in their (temporary) home’s dining hall.
“How so?” Zana asked.
“That’s a dragon, you know?!” Aren half-coughed. He dragged the word out for emphasis. “Draaagon! Just imagine! Next time a Beast Wave comes by, all that fellow needs to do is blow at them! VWOOM!” Aren gestured vaguely.
If his crew saw him talking like that, their jaws would hit the floor. Stern taskmaster Aren speaking cutesy was something only his daughter would think was normal.
“That’s nice, dad, but it’s not our dragon.” Talia pointed out. “Darian has to go back for training and all.”
“Besides, are the Beast Waves still coming? I thought the Tide was the end of it? Or are they all going to be Tides, now?” Zana asked.
“I… I’m not sure.” Aren confessed.
“I think they’re from different sources.” Talia cleared her throat. “The Tides ha
George had his own way of ranking the importance of the news he received. For instance, “The Red Fang is back!” was ranked lower in importance to “Darian came back on a dragon!” But even “The dragon seems to be on our side!” was ranked lower in his mind than “Remian exhausted himself and is now ill in bed!” Faced with that dire top-ranking news, George called Taj. “How’s our secret project?” “The herb farm?” Taj blinked. “It’s just getting started. It seems secure, and there’s been no signals or reports of attacks, but you have to understand, herbs take time to grow, even with life magic, water magic, and earth magic treasures and the most skilled mages of my clan on it.” “Is there anything we can do to…” “We’re already giving it all our best. The herbs will thrive, I guarantee it, but we need time!” “How much time?” “A week at least for even the quickest-growing herbs. That is, assuming you want quality.” “Abso
Darian had a warm reunion with his worried Mom outside. “Mom…” Darian gasped, “I can’t breathe…!” “Darian!” Eriane scolded. “Don’t make Mom cry! I’ll shoot you!” “But… but…” *BANG* Eriane’s toy gun fired. They ate dinner together. Sabriane came up from the new hospital site. Remian came out of his room. The apartment instantly became the Vin family home, and it stayed that way for five days. Five warm, soothing-if-somewhat-annoyed-by-siblings days. In these days, the miners avoided the new tunnels and the dragon within, just mining Fire Copper and Jade normally. In these days, Remian left practically everything north of Kara-Goth to George, repeatedly stressing the dangers of killing too many Wilds, but not interfering with George’s policies. In these days, Darian became a hero to the younger generation who sought this new trend/craze called ‘Comrades’ with tail-wagging enthusiastic cooperation from the wolfcats. The av
“Here they come!” “Ranged units, fire at will!” Song Chen gripped the hilt of his sword, the strongest bladed weapon ever produced by the Burning Steel Forge. Designed for battling massive Wilds the likes of Spike and DD, it was a massive ruler, five feet in length, five inches broad and weighing almost 15 kg. Made out of Tier 5 bone (DD lost a tooth when he fell in the Pit way back then) it was not usually a weapon one carried around to a battle, completely unsuited for complex swinging, much less for prolonged combat… Heck, it wasn’t even sharpened. But when you had to deal with oversized, heavily armored targets, blunt force trauma and sheer mass worked better than sharp edges. Besides, this battle was turning out to be a challenge of pushing heavy Wilds into the Pit, not actually trying to kill them with weaponry. At least, not for the FDF. The Sky Fortresses had the advantage of height and heavier weapons, but down here, all the FDF had to rely o
“Wasn’t that dragon already awake earlier?” “No, apparently, Darian couldn’t wake him up…” “Well, he’s definitely awake now. Any Wilds in the Beast Wave left?” “Only those in the Pit.” “So… what do we do with them?” They barricaded the tunnels and surrounded the Pit, three Sky Fortresses and the military-grade Red Fang hovering above with every cannon and ballista pointed downward. Having the enemy trapped in a pit, surrounded on all sides, with air superiority and the ultimate high ground all at once, this Beast Wave was turning out to be much easier to handle than expected. Remian, Markus, and Carrie peered down at the trapped Wilds from above. Remian called out, “Everybody get clear, at least three hundred meters away!” They moved while Remian closed his eyes and concentrated. He calmed himself, calmed his mind, gathered his strength and evened out his breathing. “I am calm. The skies are blue. The grass is green. I am at pe
Days since last Beast Tide: 15. Current Kill Count: 478 (81 since yesterday). *** “No? Fine! Drop the lion!” Mindy ordered. [No, don’t!] the lion under the airship yelped. “Wait!” Remian also yelled. [Lion Lord, please elaborate. What do you mean ‘no’?] [‘No’ means no.] The Lion Lord yawned again, settling down to sleep. [I know your kind. You want us all to work for you. Well, I won’t do it! If you want to hunt your own kind, do it yourself.] [So you’ll let us hunt them?] [What do I care?] [And you won’t attack us?] [Maybe we will.] The Lion Lord shrugged. [I make no promises.] [We still have your cousin, you know. He’s still our prisoner.] [So?] [So we won’t release him unless you help us, or at least promise us safe passage!] [Then don’t release him. See if I care.] [Cousin!?] The lion prisoner protested. [Don’t worry. These guys try to befriend Wilds all the ti
While Mindy and Remian were flying off to start trading, while George was taking charge of Kara-Goth and the rest of Shadowflash Fief, Darian was learning an ultimate technique. Or at least, Doom said it was an ultimate technique. That’s what he called it. Darian wasn’t so sure. But whatever it was, it was definitely powerful. The first thing Doom had Darian learn was the Dragon Silhouette. He said, “You need to be able to survive out here on your own! I’m not going to run around rescuing you all day!” “Is it that hard to survive around here?” Darian asked, looking around Dragon Lake. “You’re in the middle of six Dragon clans with hundreds of members between them, any of whom might feel like snapping you up as a snack. You tell me.” Darian quit the very thought of protesting. “What’s a Dragon Silhouette?” “You know how Ha’res-dras sometimes appears bigger than he really is? He doesn’t actually get bigger. That’s his Silhouette.
Days since last Beast Tide: 17. Current Kill Count: 528 (39 since yesterday). Mindy arrived at Fal’Herim with Remian and found a familiar face at the airport. “There! Did you see that?!” Asda pointed, shrieking. “One just ran past, behind you!” “Ma’am?” the guard turned around and looked about curiously before shaking his head. “I don’t see anything, ma’am.” “It was there!” Asda insisted. “There was a lynxmouse!” “Yes, ma’am.” The guard said politely. But when Asda turned around, he exchanged glances with the other guard next to him, who also shook his head wordlessly. “Hey! Asda!” Mindy pounced. “UWAAAAAH!!!” Asda shrieked. “It’s HER! It’s Mindy!! She brought the lynxmice!” “Wha…?” Mindy stared. “I didn’t! You can ask your airport customs people! They just did a full search of my hold!” “It’s you! I know it is! You’ve been setting lynxmice on me! Spying on me! Stalking me! Stealing my CHEESE!!” Asda pointed, sc
Days since last Beast Tide: 21. Current Kill Count: 672 (21 since yesterday). During Darian's first weekend. *** George stared at the map on the table in front of him, rubbing tired eyes. In his hand was breakfast, an Ashdale style plate of hash browns, eggs, and sausages. The images and icons in front of him seemed to swim for a moment. George shut his eyes tight for a bit, and wondered if perhaps maybe, just maybe, he should have slept in this morning. "Not today." He decided, gathering his guts and his willpower. "Tomorrow. Today, we need to face another Beast Wave." What should they do? Should they evacuate the mines, or just keep them running? Except maybe for the copper mine at Deadly Sands. And maybe the silver mine at the far southern end of the Misty Heights. Maybe even the Misty Steel mine at the source of the Three Forks River, at the heart of the Misty Mountains. Right. Misty Steel. That was a water elemental metal, similar
Somewhere along the line, he’d lost consciousness. George only realized it when he woke up to a splitting headache. “Ow.” He groaned. “What... where...?” “We’re on the way back to Sorrel.” Grace told him, appearing by his bedside. And it was a bedside, he realized. He seemed to be in the Kara’s Medical Bay. “I’m sorry. We had to retreat.” “Our... people?” George managed. “The HAC Troopers made it back. The Mechs... did not.” Grace paused. “We have the refugees though. And the Robotic Assembly Plant for Mining Drones. That’s all they managed to grab.” George slurred. “Mech pilots?” “Alive, if battered.” “Good. Alive is good.” George sighed. “This... didn’t go so well.” “Hey, at least we got the guys we were trying to save, and some machinery on top of that. You might say it was a success. A costly one, but a success.” “Casualties?” George asked. “Plenty of injuries to go around, but no deaths. So far.” Grace paused. “Some of the really badly injured might change that before lo
“Were these really the best you could do?” George asked, eyeing the six hulking figures in front of him hesitantly. “Mmm.” Juni grunted. In front of them were six brand new Mechs. 2nd Generation products, they were armored weapons platforms on legs, with jumpjets for the signature ‘jumps’ that earned their generation the nickname, ‘Jumpers’. Or were they? George wasn’t entirely sure. When he looked at them, they really looked more like 1st Generation Walker-types. Those Jump Jets seemed to be an afterthought, an added equipment haphazardly strapped to their backs. “Would they really work right?” Juni shrugged. Given the time and materials he had to work with, George supposed he couldn’t expect better. He had only just received 2nd Gen tech. Until now, he’d been working with 1st Gen expectations and schematics. One of these Mechs seemed a bit worn, evidence that it had been built quite some time ago, and only recently been modified for George’s requests. “Fusion Cell for power, Pu
It turned out that they also needed to acquire salvage rights to haul away ‘scrap metal’. Fortunately, that was a simple affair now that they had local currency. 50 USD and the matter was done. Grant, being the nearest specialist on matters of scrap to their location, graciously offered to transport their ‘scrap’ directly to their vessel out of sheer goodwill. Finally Benny and Sam went to try out the barbecued skewers. At Grant’s recommendation, though, they didn’t go to the Starport roadside stall. They ended up at another roadside stall run by a ‘foreign refugee’ someplace downtown not too far from Grant’s workshop. There, each skewer was loaded with rows of thick, juicy beef sausages, and only cost 20 USD for 10. Benny stretched. “Not bad for our first day. We’ve got three days here, don’t we? But we’ve already got half of what we wanted.” “What’s the other half?” Sam asked. “Technical manuals on engineering, power and propulsion. Tech, basically.” Benny yawned. However, whe
“Black Fang, you are cleared for docking. Follow the designated path and welcome to Trifer, colony of the Uber States.” Benny stood on the observation deck of the Black Fang below the bridge, listening to the conversation between the comms officer and the dock authorities. He eyed the massive sprawl of structures and smoke emitted below and wondered. “This is what they call a ‘small’ colony?” The colony was bigger than Craggy Falls, Kara-Goth and Nightshade City put together. “Just how many people live here?” Benny asked next. “According to our sensors, about half a million.” The bridge crew told him. Okay, that was less than the human population of the Sorrelian Migration, which, after including the Cumin survivors, was over 800,000. They shared the sensor feed with Benny, Sam and Foxy. Looking at the scope, Benny realized that most of the colony below consisted of machinery and robots. Furthermore, what he saw on the surface wasn’t even half the colony. The entire complex went
That evening, Benny and Sam left with Tim’s battle group, headed for the nearest Uber States outpost with medicine in the cargo holds. This left only one freight galleon to ferry materials and regretful space miners from the surface to Sky Haven. “It’s going too slow.” Remian decided. “I need to call Raven.” With Mindy busy trading across star systems, Raven had inherited (bought over) her airship fleet and company on the surface. They built more gunships and scout ships than freighters these days, mainly focused on providing recon and fire support to ground forces fighting Undead. But it was those freighters Remian needed now, the bigger the better. “We need them refitted for extreme high altitudes, as high as they can go.” Remian explained. “Also we need them spaceworthy, at least up to low orbit.” “You want our airship freighters to fly into space?!” Raven spluttered. “Yes, but not on their own. I want them to haul cargo and passengers as high up as they can. Around 30km woul
“Relax, I’m not asking you to build them from scratch. You’ll need to remodel a Galleon and a trio of our current Dropships. We do want proper Mech Carriers in the future, but for now, we need to deploy urgently, so we’ll just remodel what we have.” Ermine brought up some projections. “The Mechs in question are going to be Light Walkers, designed and built by J-Armory. Juni’s had a workable prototype for a long time, but it’s never been needed until now. Live testing is scheduled to start in three days. They’re powered by Fusion Cells, the kind that looks like dustbins, so you won’t need to worry about fuel lines, just cell-swapping. You won’t need to worry about replacing the He3 in the Fusion Cells either; spent cells will be sent back to J-Armory for recycling or refueling or whatever it is they do. Same goes for the weapons; Jamie’s J-Arsenal will handle maintenance and replacement and all that. The ship only needs to carry the Mechs, deploy them, and run basic maintenance. Repai
They met online the next day. Remian opted out, letting them handle it. Upon bringing up the subject of the Woofers’ request for more aid across different planets… Ermine snorted. “I refuse.” “What?” George stared. “I refuse to help them.” Ermine said stoutly. “I know that you guys all have some sort of savior syndrome, and it’s something that Remian seemed to have passed down from the very beginning, the sort of meddlesome hero complex that has you all trying to save the world at personal cost, but I’m no hero. I’m Tau, and we’re practical survivalists. We simply can’t afford to go around saving everybody. We need all our strength and resources to save ourselves. As for the Woofers, as a collective, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization, a whole class more advanced and stronger than us. They have their own governments and their own fleets. Let the Woofers help the Woofers.” Xiao Yan cut in. “As you say, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization. Since you’re talking about praticality, t
“Go, go, go!” green light flared in the bay of the Dropship as the floor fell away. George and twelve other figures were unceremoniously dumped on the ground nine feet below. They landed with heavy impacts. George staggered, realizing the gravity on this world was at least twice what he was accumstomed to back home. For a moment, he regretted leaving his Frame back on the ship, but they were here to clear the bandits out from a city center, meaning tight spaces, narrow access points, and needing to take care to avoid civilian casualties. Or at least, that was the plan. George and his squad had been deposited on the outskirts of the city, at the very border of a suburban district. “Incoming!” someone yelled. George crouched as something exploded; the ground shook and chunks of dirt flew through the air. “Get to cover! Return fire!” George called, even though he wasn’t entirely sure where the attackers were, exactly. The guys diving behind nearby garages and a public toilet clued hi
Quite predictably, the first of those calls to reach Sorrel II was from their dear friends, the Woofers. Three Paws explained it. [This is from Kelso III. It’s an agrarian world, roughly eighty hours’ flight from here for our fleet. Local gang bosses have titled themselves warlords and suppressed the citizenry with brute force. They take whatever they want, and demand whatever payment they like, on pain of death or torture. Local law enforcement has been completely overrun and even planetary militia couldn’t save the settlements under their control. The best our local paws could do is contain the situation and prevent it from getting worse.] Remian sipped hot coffee. Eighty hours flight for the Woofers Fleet should mean a bit less than seventy for the Tau fleet. “That’s rough. But what’s the point of calling us here to tell us this?” [We can help them. Just one division of your fleet could make a huge difference against these local gangs.] At the moment, the Sorrelian fleet consist