It began with fire.
Cruel Rose was enjoying herself at the time. Her closest enemies were destroyed. The north side was hers, at last. Madam Sara, the leader of the Ravens was bound to a pillar in the middle of the dining hall, gagged with both legs broken. Wrapped around her broken legs was the dead body of the Ravens’ Slayer, Donny. Unable to fight, unable to flee, unable even to curse, taunted by Rose and her lieutenants on every side, all Madam Sara could do was glare at them through reddened eyes.
But all of a sudden, shouts interrupted the revelry. “Fire! We’re on fire!!”
Who dared disturb the festivities?! The boss and her top lackeys were in the middle of celebrating the destruction of the Circling Ravens and the complete domination of the north side!
A man burst in. “Boss! We’re on fire!”
“Did someone mess around with the book again?!” Rose demanded crossly, irked at being disturbed in her moment of gloat-worthy triumph. “Where is it?
Remian called him aside the next morning. “George, I was rather impressed with the way you stepped up for Mindy back then. Tell me, what do you plan to do in the long-term?” “You mean, what I want to be when I grow up?” George shook his head. “Nothing much. I just want to have my own farm and have enough food for everybody.” Remian nodded. “So why wait? You don’t have to wait until you grow up for that. Let’s do it.” “Really?” George blinked. “When?” He expected Remian to talk about five years or ten years ahead, but what he said was, “Today.” “Seriously?” “Right now.” Remian marked out a huge (or at least, it seemed huge to George) plot of land with fire. “From here to here, plant food crops. On this side, you can raise Glass Dandelions. Further out, we need Purple Heartbeat Trees and Blue Ring Mushrooms. Also, we should dig a large pond to raise Rainbow Jellyfish.” “You want to farm the ingredients for Tier 1 and Tier
Carrie arrived with no less than twenty wolfcats; eight Tier 3 adults, five Tier 2 half-grown wolfcats, and seven Tier 1 cubs. To be clear, these wolfcats were not joining the Guild; they were willing to dig and guard in exchange for cooked food, but they were not willing to join forces with humans or help defend the town when the Beast Wave came. They were there to watch Carrie or something. Remian wasn’t too clear on that, and Carrie didn’t elaborate, but basically they would be willing to work for her, but not for him. Also, they wanted a territory where they could live in peace. “Fine! We’ll take whatever we can get.” Remian looked about. “Maybe we can build them some kennels or something on George’s Farm.” [Or we can hunt the nearby Chief Blood Rabbit and take his burrow.] Carrie added. “Or that.” Remian agreed. “That sounds like a better idea. I’m actually quite impressed that so many of them are willing to follow you. I thought Wilds hated humans in ge
In the hottest place of Frontier Town, iron melted like wax. Sparks and flames spontaneously burst into being and lived out brief existences in momentary glory. The roars of man and machine competed to overwhelm any hapless passerby’s ears. There at the heart of the heat, was a man. Truly, there was no other way to describe him. He was a man’s man. Burnished muscles, a towering figure, a six pack middle and shoulders that could bear a cow… women saw him pass by on the streets and murmured with admiration “Now THERE’S a man!” Do you not believe it? Just ask The Man himself! Surely such a manly man would not lie. Even if he did, your eyes would certainly tell you the truth… Anyone could see, very obviously, how manly this man was, compared to, for example, that runt of a boy who just walked in with the pretty, long-legged with hair like red honey. She was holding his hand as if they were on a date. A date? What a mockery! To enter the domain of
“Legionnaires!” Markus barked at the assembled trainees the next day after a morning of training and a quick lunch. “The Adventurers Guild say they are going to build a size 4 Evemont Guard Tower to Phase 2 by the next Beast Wave! What does that tell you?” Twenty trainees, a quartermaster, a drill sergeant and a new agent all stood there in assembly without saying a word. A few of them exchanged puzzled glances. What was that supposed to tell them? “It tells me that they don’t believe in us! They don’t believe that the Legion can protect the town on our own, and that we will not be able to keep them safe!” Markus roared. Again, the exchange of glances. It was obvious that the Legion really couldn’t… “Well, I say we prove them wrong!” Markus exclaimed. “I say we challenge them stroke for stroke! They want to build a Guard Tower? We will build one too! We’ll match them size for size… and we’ll do it better!” Fortifications! Everyone lit up. Now
Don’t tell Markus, but having the Wilds help them was only half the reason why the Adventurers Guild managed to build the bunker form of the Guard Tower in six days. The other half had to do with a new scroll that Remian was Inscribing these days. It was a Lightening Scroll. There were nine different Tiers of the same spell; the Tier 1 version reduced an object’s weight by a few kilograms, up to half its original weight, whichever was lesser. Therefore, if a stone weighed 100kg, the Tier 1 version would reduce it to 95-99 kg, depending on the scroll Inscriber’s and the scroll caster’s power. If used on a 2kg bag of flour, it would reduce the weight by half to 1kg. The Tier 2 version would reduce weight by roughly 30kg (give or take up to 10kg) or half, whichever was lesser. While not entirely helpful with tons of logs, it enabled even children to cart level planks around by hand. Even considering how weak the scroll casters’ powers were, anything below 50 kg would lo
That night the headquarters of the Adventurers Guild looked like a mix of a school canteen and a kennel. There were wolfcats and children everywhere, yipping, laughing, screaming, yowling…Red and Lunar had brought their cubs to play with the children and Vigil had gotten caught up in the fun. The lot of them were scrambling around madly and having a jolly good time while their parents and caretakers took to the side to nurse their collective headaches.Remian watched the Maelstrom for a while with a small smile on his face. Then, he reluctantly broke in to extract someone from it. “Jane? A minute, please?”Jane paused, took one look at him, and immediately ran away.“Huh…?” Remian blinked, staring at her back as she fled. “What the…?”“What did you do?” Mandy asked, seeing the girl run away.“I didn’t do anything…! I just wanted to ask her how her stall
That evening, the airship arrived.“Is it just me, or is the airship coming more frequently, these days?” Remian asked.“You only say that because we left late last time.” Charlie snorted.“Sorry. Did you get in trouble?”“Not really, no. The amount of goods and profit we brought back more than made up for it.” Charlie cleared his throat. “The more business the Frontier gives us, the more often we can justifiably come out here.”“Well, we don’t expect a Beast Wave for another week yet, so…” Remian grimaced. He really didn’t like the idea of depending on Beast Waves for the economy of Frontier Town.“Actually, I brought you an opportunity. It’s an old survey map, something left behind by a certain Deutero prospector…” Charlie slipped parchment into Remian’s hands. “Apparently, there might, just might be… a man
Tim was fascinated with the new headless spears. “They’re too heavy to throw or move around much… but if we’re just going to hold them in place and let the wilds run straight into them… I think they’re going to work! If we can just build them some frames…”“Frames?” Remian blinked.“Barricades that use these metal stakes instead of sharpened sticks.” Tim explained. “Actually, can we ask them to make completely metal barricades, with sharp stakes pointing outwards? I think the Iron Legion would actually pay for those.”It was a good idea. The Legion was experienced in fending off human bandits, so wooden stakes were good enough, but when it came to Tier 3 Wilds, they were going to need stronger, heavier fortifications.“Can you talk to Markus about it?” Remian asked.“Yeah. Last I checked, he was trying to buy out all the bear traps in town.&rdqu
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