Utan Migration Wars

During the Utan Migration, tensions rose considerably during the movements, causing an outbreak of tensions that resulted in a war.

Summary
The Warlord with the One Eye is on the move! With the non-human species being forced out of Cameo and Jaedinar, he has declared them to be under his protection, against all comers. The Blood Meridian, the Human Supremacy movement, has laughed at his promises and has begun to maneuver against him. The Warlord has sent his armies, meager compared with the proper nations, but still not to be laughed at, to protect the massive caravans that are moving through the passes of the surrounding nations. The Sky King Helios, champion of Valkyries and Utan, has declared the formidable might of the Valkyries to be with the Warlord. Cameo, already in near panic because of the Estellion Sky Empire, has declared war on the Warlord, and Jaedinar follows lock-step with them.

Sabbatholm, meanwhile, is in near chaos. Their infrastructure is no match for the millions of refugees streaming through their cities. They turn to an amoral aspect of their lives, the Slave Trade. Nathan Kale and Marshall Luke Merran strike a deal. Luke Merran would bolster Nathan's forces, and provide protection against the marauding Valkyries. Also, Merran is playing another side, Cameo is actively paying him to side with the slavers as funneling the non-humans towards the southern Neutral Lands. But his superiors are not as pleased. They want the non-humans that have come in out, NOW! But Cameo refuses them, and states that they will not take their 'inferior' species back.

The situation does not improve at all. With Sabbatholm harassing the non-humans, the Warlord sends reinforcements to the caravans passing through, and this is seen as an act of war by the other nation. Cameo and Jaedinar likewise think themselves threatened and declare war on him. While this is happening, the Neutral Lands are being trodden on. Lumina Kaphisilla, the regent of the lands bordered by the feuding nations by order of her sister, Alidee Kaphisilla, made her demands, that they stop squabbling long enough to leave her lands. No one listens to her. And so House Kaphisilla has entered the war on their own side.

They fight each other, but not in true pitched battle, many times, and then something bad happened. Supplies that were supposed to go to the effort in Estellion Sky Empire went to this, comparatively small conflict. This finally gained the notice of The 12 Pillars. They sent in the Pillars who had stayed behind with much of their remaining force. Also, the Arcadian Exile Fleet, which was in the Midworld for the creation of a new capital ship, the Exile Mk. 2.

The Arcadians and the Pillars did not take kindly to this disturbance to the world. The nations should have been supporting their troops fighting against the Empire! Not squabbling over something that could have been down a thousand times more peacefully. All the parties involved did not see the wisdom to settling peaceably, and they prepared to fight the 'invaders'. The Exile Fleet, however, did not appear with the Pillars. Gil Colin Graham appeared over Cameo Lake and destroyed and landed in an abandoned portion of the capital city. He then led his Air Marines to capture the Imperial Palace as well as Emperor Zeto and Rollan Briscolletti. This check-mated the Blood Meridian members, and caused Jaedinar and Cameo to back down.

Sabbatholm and the Neutral Lands also backed down. The Warlord with the One Eye refused, even though it was feared the Pillars and Arcadians would just conquer him and have done with it. He was met by two Pillars, Trema Spectra and Ophelia Metis, who argued with him to back down. He refused, and Trema Spectra sent him through a wall. He asked them did they know what had happened to those who traveled the lands? He told them of the massive upkick in the slave trade, and of the families that were being separated, and he provided witnesses and evidence to support his claims. He stated that he would not back down until the non-humans were left unmolested as they traveled to his domain. The Pillars, who had been lied to by the surrounding nations, agreed to assist.

Thus ended the Utan Migration Wars. The Exile Fleet went to lead the Arcadian forces in the Estellion Sky Empire, and the Pillar's forces stayed to protect the refugees.

Story
Incomplete

Utan Migration War

Here is a hand and a pen. Paper is under them. This is the beginning of all stories' physical being.

I am Plue. No one need meet me in person. No one need know my face. I am the mere narrator. I hear stories and I hear rumors. Enough rumors give me what you are holding. A story. I am the teller of tales and you are their devourer.

I remember times when the world was young and warriors and species no longer living warred for a thousand years till few lived and fewer knew what lived before. I am one. I know what happened. Another much like me knows, and she tells me whatever I ask because she loves me. That is how I can tell you this tale.

In this world of ours, with its tens of billions of people, is incomparable, I would suppose, to the fantasies that line the shelves of worlds like ours, but cracked like mirrors every one. Reality is fantasy and fantasy can not be distinguished by mere mortals as you, and maybe I.

But this story is true. Truer than I. For I live and you see me not, but you read and you see. Green is real. Stellaria is real. Yun-Hee is real. The animal-human Utan are real. The Elves are real. Cities are built by giant robots. The xenophobic Blood Meridian is real. And warlords only have one eye and harems of ten.

Is that our world? I would suppose so. You could put this down you know. Pick a real fantasy. But you won't. Why? Because you want to know what went on in those back rooms.

You want to know why the Valkyries defied the Twelve Pillars and struck Cameo and Sabbatholm to protect the Utan. You want to know what happened between the Warlord and Trema Spectral. You want to know the juicy details, scandals and murders. You want a pandering shadow, that thrills and chills and horrifies. You want to escape to another end of our own reality for mere entertainment.

I have talked enough. Now I merely tantalize you with facts and figures. Names that are known to any who read a wikia article. Or not, I shall describe them either way.

Now blink a few times to wet your eyes, stretch so you feel no cramp while reading and drink a sip of water so you are not distracted by a dry mouth. Here begins the tale.

Here begins THE UTAN MIGRATION WAR

Chapter 1

Arcadia is layered like cake. Not the sort of cake that is delicious all the way through, but an old and moldy wedding cake that is constantly added to. The base so wide it has a thousand different additions in different places. The base is still solid, but no person in their right mind eats of it. But people are not logical.

Thus in the vast, immeasurable, Arcadian Undercity, the plot begins. There is, in a certain layer of the cake city of Arini is a small cabaret club. One may ask, why should we care? Know that this club is run by the insidious and capitalistic Assassin's Guild. There gather thugs and politicians, mob bosses and CEOs, all looking for their own near nihilistic pleasure.

The Assassin's Guild is a squidlike entity. They have developed their tentacles so far and so wide that they could stop killing people and remain one of the most powerful companies on the planet. Indeed, a thousand dummy corporations fed and funneled the money that it controlled. And Arcadia was merely another gem.

This club was the refuge of female assassin's that could no longer fulfill their duties, yet still wanted to work for the guild. Such was the nature of their work. If one could no longer kill, they must have had some other skill to rely on, looks, numbers technology... Twas thought respectable, within the guild at least, to join such establishments.

These resorts were not legal by any stretch of the imagination. Nor was it particularly safe for patrons, either. Much of the time, if, by some unthinkable reason, you cannot avoid a visit to this place, those in the know kept no money in their pant's pocket, rather paying in advance for certain drinks, hours and hostesses' attentions. If one let their guard down, they could find themselves tied to their own bed by their underwear and all their valuables quietly appraised, then stolen.

Such a place was Caborat Cafe. A strange place run by the man known as Caborat. Every sentient species, from Elf to Utan could be found their. Once inside, you chose from a series of available waitresses, the wise paying in advance, and given a table. There, you were entertained and your ego stroked.

“Oh my, such BIG muscles, you must work out. So nice to have such a strong man to entertain me!”

Drinking was encouraged but physical activities discouraged. Caborat thought he ran a classy establishment. There were bright lights everywhere, these may have been camera flashes, but who knew? Music was loud and blaring, mimicking the carnivals and circuses that passed through Arcadian Megastructures like clockwork. No one could hear anyone past their own table.

And everyone smiled. Some smiled the smiles of drunkards and others the smiles that comes with flirtation. But the most smiles were the slashes of the waitresses. Welcoming one in, they pressed themselves like fire. Secrets would be let out if they played their cards right. And matching their slashes were their former co-workers.

The greatest assassin's smiled. Whether an easy smile of a calm-hearted monk/killer, or the wide grin of a hopped up thug who knows he's stronger than you, every good assassin smiled. Orvan Kits smiled widely.

He was no true assassin, not anymore, at least. He saw the world and knew it from years of experience that his lessers died before ever achieving. Now he was a glorified middleman. The seeker of talent and the sender of victims. Twas his head that nodded at Caborat in a strange, circular motion. He spoke and communicated more in that nod than you or I could possibly read in an hour.

He was given a human that he stated suited his tastes. He tipped Caborat a small fold of bills, one containing not the picture of Elizabeth Delphine, but of the man he was going to meet. Then he was away. To the two Elves behind him, they thought him showing his gratitude early, and decided to follow suit. Caborat smiled and took the money. These two weren't used to the ways of his club.

Orvan Kits then began to exchange pleasantries. The weather was decent (he hasn't seen the sun in a year, too much work to vacation). Pity about the death of that diva (he had delivered the orders). And wasn't it a shame that those ECHO punks from Estellion are still around (he killed one two days ago). Read without the subtext, these conversations are mere innocent exchanges. The business man in the next booth said as much when he came in, though he was drunk.

Twas Orvan's way to observe all around him and think of the facts he knew. He smiled broadly at the hostess, who smiled a slash. This human used to work for him years ago, and was actually injured on a mission he gave her. She had been stupid and forgot to set up a dummy set of living quarters, rookie mistakes that cost her. He knew this.

The business man was being fondled by two Utan. Utan were the genetic modifications of humans designed by madmen for servants, slaves and worse, before this layer of Arcadia had been built, and before the rot set into the layer beneath it. They spread to all the world, and were now only outnumbered by the billions of humans.

There was a cat and a rabbit. Their ears and sizes distinguished them clearly to any who had an education in such. The Utan had thicker hair (called fur though it is not truly such) than humans, and they could be multiple colors at once. Each had the ears and tail of their namesake, and personalities, managed by hormone glands lacking in humans, which could be manipulated by the petting of heads. They were also the cornerstone of the slave trade, though they were not without strong allies.

The Rabbit Collective member, who had suffered a massive head trauma, obviously had the ears and tail of the rabbit. Colloquially called bunnies, they were categorized as the 'worse' group by the madmen who started them. She would never break the height of four feet and a half, not counting her ears which let her break five foot within an inch. Her eyes were blank and there was a smile on her face. She was bait for corrupt men. She contrasted well against the Cat.

The Cat Lounger, who had a incurable, but treatable, inner ear injury, was the brains of the group. Where the rabbit was thick and dull, she was lean and sharp. Her tail curled in the handles of cups and tea kettles. It was calico though the main body was merely orange. It was a great rarity that visitors liked. Her mouth spoke words that Orvan did not need to hear to understand. She teased the old man with half promises and all lies. Her claw-nails plucked at his sleeve and she encouraged him to drink.

The Businessman was old and quite drunk, getting drunker all the time. Before long, the cat would have him invite her and her friend to his house. There, as soon as the door was closed and locked and the windows shuttered, she would rob him. Then, she would bind him to his bed with old woman's brassieres and make off with money, using her friend to carry the valuables. The man would be too embarrassed to admit anything, and with the protection of the Assassin's Guild, the pair would be scot-free.

Orvan smile widened a little, and he winked his right eye at the cat. She quietly twirled her right ear back at him. He turned his head, disturbed and he smile slackened. Across the walkway strode a member of Silicon Soul. She was usually kept in the back, monitoring the video feeds live, until those with that uncanny fetish for unemotional things requested her against the suggestions of Caborat.

The Silicon Soul was nearly symmetrical, both in body features and over all look. It was disturbing to those who understood what they were once. Humans who forwent flesh and sought an eldritch immortality built on silicon and founded on steel. Her left eye was large and multifaceted. It had been replaced by the best and could see a fly a thousand yards way. Her right arm was sticks held together by black balls that were nearly joints. The shoulders were improperly aligned but the left arm was comfortingly human. Her clothing, far from the gaudiness around her, was sombre night, a mix of black and navy that was indistinguishable. Around her waste was a skewed apron that was white for reasons only she knew. Her hair was cabling that sometimes moved on it's own and sometimes braided itself. Lastly, her lips were black and it held a smile of sharkteeth of which she did not know the meaning.

Even before she had finished passing, Orvan's smile returned and it flashed dangerously about him. The agent was late, but not unpleasantly so. Knowing him, he was likely being overly cautious, which was why he was chosen.

A hi-pitched “KEI KEI KEI KEI” sounded beside him. It was those two Elves from before. They were being entertained by what he assumed was a young elf female but he was never sure. He hated the laughter of elves.

Elves are the tallest 'common' species found in the world. These elves were tall even for elves. Elves are very unusual for humanoid species, for one, they were nearly every color of the rainbow, and then some. These three were green, purple and yellow respectively. Hair also followed this rule, with colors such as indigo, red and black.

Their long ears curved downward, nearly touching their shoulders and supposedly could hear a much higher range of pitch than humans. Their eyes were much larger than normal humans as well, their peripheral vision nearly reaching two hundred and seventy degrees. Elvish eye color universally matched their hair. One last detail of note were the fingers, five joints for reasons no one rightly understood.

This surrounded the smiling Orvan Kits, who sipped a tea supposedly from the far western nation of Cameo, that he knew merely came from Willowscent, Arcadia's neighbor to the north. He liked it, though, and it was a vice that he attempted to keep secret. He was joined by Trentan Aymon, and to all the world, it looked like he had been their the whole time, so easily did he converse with the hostess. His smile was as wide as Orvan's.

Chapter 2

Another apt analogy applicable to Arcadia is a comparison to a body. The brain resides in Arcadia City. The heart could be found in Arini. A pulsing heart of industry that cannot be compared, even to the military industrial complexes, which now contracts out to the Rhun Family. So the roads, which carry the lifeblood of commerce and factory goods, are the veins, arteries and capillaries.

To the east and west and north and south, there are a thousand thousand miles of roads. From the massive Megastructures, to the needle like skyscrapers, everything is connected by these roads. Two very distinct cultures grew up to fill them, the Greasers and the Punks. Motorcycle gangs that searched for home, but then sought different paths.

The Punks became evil, slavers and gang bangers. They are feared because they know only the morality of the strong. Rumors about them abound, from dark and forbidden cults of Shade worshipers to anarchistic burners, bent on tearing down the city. Sometimes the rumors are very true.

The true and accepted group is the Greasers. Sometimes an Arcadian youth feels the desire to rove the country's infrastructures. Sometimes, they travel alone, but most of the time they find groups devoted to traveling a roaded wasteland to find a home. Occasionally they settle, inhabiting former parking garages. These way-stations dotted the forest of skyscrapers as often as one can find the advertizing billboards of abandoned corporations defunct a hundred years.

The Greasers are famous for two things, their fashion sense, and their fighting style. Male greasers wear a white undershirt covered by a black leather jacket. Girls wear long skirts with leggings underneath, in battle, they can rip them off easily. Their fighting style is unique to say the least. It's proper name is 'Dance Fighting'.

The heart of Arini is the Tal Heights, a gigantic factory complex the size of a city itself. A humongous pump sending out products, every second trucks, trains and airships leave to carry the precious oxygen to all Arcadia. There are dangers all the way, Punks and Sky Pirates constantly harass the trade lines. The Arcadian Sky Navy does it's best to protect the sky ways, but what of the land?

Greasers come in, at a price, to protect the convoys. More enterprising members even take personal items to and from clients. This is the key Greaser Package System. Their enemies, the Punks, have taken advantage of their new wealth and upped their attacks on convoys and individuals cocky enough to go on their own.

One last item of note, the Greasers are lead by the King of Greasers. He, as it always is a he, won the title by right of strength, in an arena that only the Greaser's know. That is how Andrew Dwade came to power, and how he rues it.

In Arini there is a bar. After saying a few code words and buying a certain drink, one can be led to the warehouse out back. That is the court of the King of Greasers. At the back and at the top, there is a wide throne. It is adorned with motorcycle parts and other, more macabre trophies. It's back is a gigantic sword, no one knows who owned it, but that the City Builders, giant robotic construction workers, put it there. It's meant for two.

On that throne sat Andrew Dwade himself. He mulled his bad luck silently. His girlfriend, or 'Doll', Moira Bakura, had been personally assaulted by Punks led by Erebus Waldron, scarred and maimed. She was healing at her parents house in Abinoch. It struck him deeply. The King of Greasers was to be invincible, the game changer. When he and his pack, Horizon Storm, made a move, they were to earn a victory so definite...

He was silent. He thought it best to wear his motorcycle gear at all times. He watched his people eat, drink, sleep and interact with each other. But they were supposed to dance. Greasers are supposed to posture at each other, some pair of alpha males should be fighting for dominance. But no, they were quiet too. They were waiting for him to do something.

He had done something. He had called a gathering. Rumor was that Erebus Waldron was moving west, quickly, paid to cause some chaos in the Utan Migration. Even then, he found he had not the strength to move. The helmet over his eyes mimicked the shroud he felt over his soul.

Then the near mad architect Green Mustard entered the room. He was not alone, and he came with a human sized City Builder, a female Silicon Soul and a thin man in a cloak. The Silicon Soul was obviously a secretary. Green strode into the hall without a single hint of hesitation or trepidation. He was entering another public place without any real distinction.

“Well then.” He started, rubbing his hands, as if he had found some unexpected delicacy in his meal. “I'm wondering if you are the King of Greasers?”

Andrew raised his head without moving any other part of his body. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees and hands clasped. He didn't know whether he had moved in hours and he was very stiff.

“Well I don't think you are.” Green said, looking at him as if he discovered that the delicacy may not be all that fresh. “The King of Greasers has always been the life of a party. The King of Greasers doesn't mope because his girlfriend got beat up.”

One of the Greasers stood up and pointed accusingly at him. “You upstart! How dare you come to insult him! She took a lot more than a beating!” Beating was chewed thoroughly by that Greaser. He was joined by several girls who had been vying for his attentions. Apparently he was high ranking and wasn't seeing anyone, Green noted.

“WELL that may be, but even old Greasers have more spirit than this guy. I mean, back in my day, Greasers had blood vendettas. Greasers tore apart entire city blocks just to kill one man who disrespected their weakest member. They didn't wallow in self pity like he is.”

“Oy! Don't ignore me!” That high ranking Greaser got up in his face. “I see that you don't really understand all that you're saying. You don't come into our bastion and talk to us like that.”

“Calm down Rufus.” Andrew stood up and walked down the steps leading to his throne. He had been sitting down for a long time and his back hurt. “He's baiting us.” He reached the bottom and put his hands in his pockets. “And I want to know what for.”

Green stuck his own hands in his pockets, leered and leaned at the King of Greasers. “I need an army.”

The Greasers started to laugh at him. They had heard his name once or twice, but they didn't respect him. He was no Greaser. He wasn't even some sort of officer. He just showed up and demanded they help him. “WHY? WHY?!” They said mockingly. Andrew felt amusement himself. Dark and brooding, it forced itself out of his lips. His back arched and his hands flew out, almost in a crucified fashion.

“HA HA H AH HAH HA!” He ripped off his helmet, it revealed a twisted, contorted face. It was scarred and his smile was large. It almost threatened to rip his head in half. “WAR? WAR?” He covered his face his hands. “WHY!” He stopped laughing and looked at Green. He smiled, but his pupils were improperly dilated. Whatever madness that had been inside him had come out, wrapping tentacles around his brain and forcing him away from sanity.

“Well, the Valkyries said much the same, but they agreed in the end.” He stated this as a fact. He waved a little, as if warding himself against the hilarity that had infected every Greaser there. “I even got the Arcadian military to lend me some old ships to take with me. So with Valkyries, Airships and their Air Marines, I've got the sky power taken care of. But that leaves me with a need for ground power. I'll pick up troops in Sabbatholm and elsewhere...” He paused a picked up a pitcher. It was full of something red, but didn't smell like wine. He poured two cups and passed one to a Greaser, who took it to Andrew Dwade.

Andrew took the cup. His face was less contorted than it had been, and it looked normal. The smoothness, freed from large wrinkles caused by his wanton smiles, revealed scars and blemishes. Most were fading, but a disturbing few were very deep and barely healed. Someone had tried to scratch his left eye out. They were very red and gave Andrew a very evil aura. He drank deeply. “Who will we fight?”

“Punks, slavers, gangsters and entire nation armies.” Green drank from his own cup. Those greasers next to him were drinking cranberry juice for some reason. “It'll be radical. Fight to deaths all over the place. You know, like it was during the old times.” He put the empty cup down. “Remember those times! Like the battles you fought for Arcadia during the Faceless Wars. Like the hero Musca Heron. Of glory, honor and battle that lives in your songs. That is what I am offering. Come with me, and I'll save you from your apathy.”

“Punks?” Andrew threw the cup through a window. “I don't care about all that. I want to kill punks.” He grabbed a jug of something clear and started drinking. “I want revenge.” He pointed to his face. “You know what this is? They pumped Moira so full of drugs she was little more than an animal. It took all my strength to to hold her down so we could stop the bleeding from her stump of a hand.” He threw it down. “IT WAS AN ATTACK ON MY SANITY!” He laughed, a guttural sound compared to the maddened laugh of before. “AND IT'S WORKING!”

He picked up a table, shaking off all of the food and Greasers on it. He began to spin around. After a few revolutions, he sent it through another window. It calmed him down a great deal. He just needed to get the energy out of his system. “I want to alleviate the shame I feel. It... hurts and I want to kill Punks!” He started to breath easily.

Green grinned widely. Andrew put on his helmet. Green wondered if there was a connection to his self control and that helmet. “Well then. One month from today I leave on the Pan-continental line 1034. Be there two days early to receive maps and orders in case we get separated.”

“Understood.” Andrew walked back up to the throne of the King of Greasers and sat down. His face, Green thought, was as expressionless as his helmet. He turned to leave, waving his hand.

The man in the cloak was a Datamancer, a powerful coder and data archivist. Computers were breathing and eating to him. “Can he be trusted? He wasn't sane.” He hoped that no Greaser or ally could hear him.

“We'll worry about that later. He'll gather every Greaser that will still harken to him.” Green threw a couple bills to the bartender. “He'll heal up nicely if he kills that Erebus Walden. Hopefully. If this had gone on for much longer, he'd have been killed by his own people and there'd be a civil war for the King's title. We have to depend on them.”

Green snapped his fingers at his Datamancer. “In one month, we'll see.”

Chapter 3

The most distinctive characteristics of the Valkyries are their all consuming love of battle. To a Valkyrie, no greater shame existed than to be somehow completely unable to fight. More Valkyries fell in battle than died of old age, even in times of peace. They do not lament this, they have far too much fun. A lucky few were known of in song, to achieve that immortality was every Valkyrie's goal. As measure of their strength, an average Valkyrie child may lift one hundred pounds.

There is a mystical attitude about them. By some unknown force, maybe even their own spirits, they glow with a blue fire when excited. The fire can be controlled and focused, providing last resort weapons, fortunately, their fire only hurts their enemies.

Valkyries are the only sentient winged humanoid on the planet. They can fly long distances on their wings, sometimes for eight hours at a time, before tiring. Males cannot fly as long as females due to slight differences in musculature. Now a days, they hitch rides on trains and airships. Not many people feel cocky enough complain about it.

Valkyrie males and females have a very strong dichotomy. Males can reach seven feet high easily and their wings are a little more bony, with claws on them which can be used in battle. Females reach six feet and lack the bony wings. Clothing is considered formal to humans, dress shirts and lace, but those experienced in Valkyrie relations know they hide armor and weapons within.

The Eastern Valkyrie Clans are part of the triumvirate of Valkyrie clans, East, West and Central. They are a much more loose conglomeration of Valkyrie groups than the other two. The Eastern clan was led by Lady Stellaria. The Valkyries were stuck in a crossroads, much like the Greasers. Stellaria's mate had been assassinated by the Assassin's Quarter, rivals of the Assassin's Guild.

It was a shameful death, one Stellaria refused to fully accept. She, even two months after his death, kept the Valkyrian custom of draping black lace over her white wings. Also, her pinion feathers were dipped in a burgundy paint, another sign of mourning. This did not go well with her advisers. She was their leader, so they must acquiesce to her, but this was far too much. She was the example for the Eastern Valkyrie Clans.

Stellaria currently resided in The Needling Peaks, a series of extremely high sky scrapers that acted much like a normal mountain range. Humans did not find this height appealing and so avoided living there. There were hydroponic farms, meeting rooms, airship docking bays and even gymnasiums and swimming pools, but it was more than ten thousand feet up.

From one of these meeting rooms, some gold trimmed executive suite, Stellaria looked out into the clouds. The advisers were debating the proposal of the strange and bold human Green Mustard. The Valkyrie lords were also present. They had agreed without Stellaria's approval. She didn't care.

They were not rebellion but she knew the signs. It always started with whispers. “She is losing her touch. Maybe she is weak enough to challenge.” Yet no one dared. Even if they beat her, her son would interfere, and though he was not yet a 'man', he was considered a very formidable warrior. His name was Phelan, meaning Little Wolf.

In the middle of her reverie, she was interrupted. “Everyone's ready.”

“Thank you.” She turned to face the assemblage. She lifted her right hand as she began her oratory. A Valkyrie Oratory is something to see. The speaker walks across a room, touching shoulders and demonstrating the subject with hand motions and object showing. It is a show, as much as it is a speech. Valkyries have a rather short attention span towards talking, so the show helps.

“Lords and ladies of the Easter Valkyrie Clan. I am Sky Queen Stellaria, widow of Sky King Belgan the Mighty, who was only slain by foul trickery. I am the daughter of Sky Queen Terllan, who was the daughter of Sky King Berlland. They say that all Valkyries loved him, and that he could be called Sky Emperor, King of Sky kings.

“I know the stories of the Utan. I know of their birth to who we call the Mad Men. They escaped their bondage and fled into the now populated Wilderness of Signt. There, where the sun barely broke through the leaves and the branches reach out to strangle you, we conquered them. We fought them like we do all of our enemies. We were about to slay them all.

“Then the greatest of all Badger Lords Horculus the Ultimate tossed us about like so many leaves to the gale. The Badger Lord is respected by us above all Utan. Eventually Turrean, the fabled Sky Emperor, took him down in the most honorable one on one combat that nearly killed him. They begged us for our mercy, which we gave. Nearly a half hour after this, we ran into the humans. They had been pursuing the Utan without ceasing, like a hunting dog.

“They demanded the Utan. They said they owned them, body and soul. We laughed. We laughed for a day and a night even after we killed them. The Utan cleaned our weapons without asking, and cooked our food. They cared for the few wounds we sustained. It touched us and we called them friends. We called them our friendly prisoner of war. We gave them the name Utan.

“They traveled and bred and cared for us. We loved them and spread them to all Valkyrie clans. Then they grew so large they asked to live apart from us. We granted them this mercy. It comes to no surprise to me that they were oppressed in the west. They were always superstitious and thin skinned there. They were nearly snapping before the dishonorable Estellion Sky Empire invaded their lands and oppressed them for those years.

“They turned for scapegoat. Who better than the pacifistic Utan? The Utan who we protected, and who nurtured us into a proper warrior society. We owe them and they owe us, but we cannot decide, as a nation. We cannot go to war as a nation. Any can go alone. I will not stop you, but I will not fund you. The armor taken must be your own. The weapons-”

“HOW DARE YOU IGNORE THEM!” Sky Knight Merchator leaped from his seat. Stellaria was actually surprised they lasted that long before interrupting her. “We have ever been their friend and support! When Windbloom began to oppress them, who begged for aid? WHO CAME BEFORE US YESTERDAY?

“I'll tell you... the Badger Lord Morway the hammer. HE leads an army to the west. Green Mustard funds the massive refugee camps and is going to create an entire city for the millions living the the respectable Warlord with the One Eye's realm.” He stopped talking briefly as he tried to calm himself.

One of the elder Sky Nobles stood up. “What Sky Knight Merchantor wishes to say, is that we cannot ignore this. We cannot ignore this detestable series of events. Sky Queen Stellaria. We all acknowledge you, so we will not officially go to war. But you will live here alone until we return.” She flicked her wing and knocked over her chair. The rest of the Valkyrie leaders did the same. Soon, Stellaria was alone with her son.

“What do you think?”

Her son turned to her after the last Valkyrie left. “I think their disrespect was intolerable. I think you should drag them all back here and demand their respect. Or maybe we should go to war with them.”

“I have not the spirit. I cannot find my love of battle.” Stellaria, loosed her hair from the set of jeweled pins that was a crown for her. It flowed silver, contrasted against her black cloths and the black lace on her wings. “And Arcadia warned me against going to war. They used the underlying threat that comes with human language. The bare complexities that are beyond most of our kind's ken.”

The son arranged the jewels into their box. He then poured wine for them both from a flask. “I will not go to war, except that you go with me.” He drank deeply, then left for his chambers. Stellaria looked out to the setting sun.

Chapter 4

In Cameo, the land of the Emperor, the tea ceremony is the most revered of traditions. They say a thousand secrets may by learned by a true tea ceremony master from a single event. That is nonsense, the tea masters joke, they only learn a hundred. Either way, they are banned from most nations' capital buildings in case they send national secrets to Cameo.

Within Cameo itself, the skill of a tea master could decide their social rank. A true master, whether peasant or noble, could rise beyond all and serve tea to the Emperor himself. This would give honor to their family. This was how the now Empress Lay Zeto came to power.

At ten she was apprenticed to Master Xen Hyr, a world famous Tea Ceremony master. This was how she became famous. She was raised to noble level after a traffic accident killed her family. They were given a car to help them see her perform. She was famous enough to actually promote the noble family that adopted her.

Then began the intrigues. The first was a supposed affair between her, at fifteen, and a minor nobleman. That was empirically false, as discrepancies in time between her actions and the time requiring the supposed affair could not match up. The minor noble was disgraced. Her next great battle was a rivalry.

Rivalries are sometimes beautiful things. They drive both beyond themselves through a great primal need for both to be better than the other. This may lead itself to abuse, to one or both going too far. Her great rival was Sook-Hee. To rival someone in a Tea Ceremony is to fight for patrons and audience venues. Sook-Hee had the benefits of the powerful Hee family behind her.

She used it illly, and soon began to secretly slander and spread rumors about the younger Lay. She insinuated that it was an affair with a different noble, and that the younger noble had been a decoy. Lay ignored those rumors and continued to perform the tea ceremony. Finally, Master Xen Hyr moved in Lay's defense and outed Sook-Hee for a liar.

Despite the infamy, Lay gained reputation within the all-important tea ceremony circles that her ceremonies were 'purer' than Sook-Hee's, and she received the prize. On her seventeenth birthday, she was given an invitation to perform before the young Emperor Zeto. He was so impressed with her ceremony that he asked her to marry him.

Their romance threw the nobility into a furor. Certainly it was her right to perform the tea ceremony despite her birth, but marry the Emperor himself? This time, the noble family who adopted her, the Nocs, gave her full support. Many lesser families, dependent on Noc for their status, also publicly supported her. Finally, to her surprise, the house Hee supported her as well.

She married the Emperor on his eighteenth birthday. Sadly, soon after she realized how capricious he was. The Emperor was expected to gain many wives from many families as a kind of guarantee against assassination, as well as a guarantee of heirs to take the throne as well as certain offices guaranteed the Emperor's children, like diplomats and certain harmless positions like undersecretary of the interior.

But the Emperor, to everyone's opinion, moved far to soon. With the support of the Noc family, he had the support of the south-western port province of Atajin. With the Hee family he looked to the farms of Xaio Mae. The Emperor was nineteen when he invited Yun-Hee to the palace. Whereas Lay was given the title 'pure' to her name when she was addressed or signed her letters. Unofficially, Yun-Hee, in private letters between friends, was called 'Snake'.

Lay was still the Empress, and she had not rested on her laurels while she was unopposed. Her greatest ally now was the Liser family. They were small, but important, and above all, loyal. They were recovering from a rebellion their head of family started years and on his own. His son, Borundum Liser, killed him in battle.

Brundt Liser was cut from the same cloth. He was given the title 'Bulldog' by the Emperor. Brundt was a little short and built like a Camean Heavy Tank. His skills as a warrior lacked in comparison to his skills as a military administrator. He gained back much of his families fame, if not their power. The family, after an unfortunately necessary culling, was small and thus mobile. Brundt now ran all mercenary activities for the Emperor.

Brundt did have a weakness, he loved a good tea ceremony. It was his one 'unmanly' hobby. In fact, his daughter, Burtea, was a respected Tea Ceremony acolyte. He couldn't be more proud. The Empress learned from Master Xin Hyr how to use the Tea Ceremony to make friends with people like him. He could appreciate every part of it.

In attendance was a lady in waiting who's name was Syu-Huk and Brundt's son, Brutander. Brutander had not inherited all of his father's patience, but instead got a double helping of his warrior spirit. He was learning patience at this time, after beating a fellow student senseless after an insult. He was being forced to enjoy the Tea Ceremony with his father. He sat cross legged on the floor at his father's right, given the spot directly across from Empress Lay.

Empress started this ceremony by plucking each tea leaf individually from the plant. This was considered an 'Avant Garde' technique as green tea was thought unfit to use in a ceremony until three years ago. Her fingers made very delicate motions, plucking at each of the leaves perfectly, not a single stem or leaf damaged.

Brundt began rumbling. She knew he would. While he loved a Tea Ceremony, he had a hard time being patient during this part. What was great about him, according to her, was his willingness to talk candidly to her.

“I can't believe you are taking Yun-Hee lying down.”

She didn't look up. “She is a presence at the court, but I am the Empress.”

Brutander shifted uncomfortably. Brundt motioned him quiet. “You... don't know?”

Empress Lay stopped and glared at him. She could almost hear his mind say: “Oh no.” “What are you talking about?”

“He's been... visiting her.”

“And?”

“Staying for a while, milady.”

Lay quietly placed the leaves in the palm of her hand into a dish and stood up. She was wearing robes very indicative to her status. Gold thread and silk intertwined with flowers and plants. She was shod with slippers of the finest materials and bejeweled with rubies. Her fingers held three rings, the ring of her adoptive family, the ring of marriage and the ring that made HER Empress, and no others.

And around her neck was the Star of Laru, a magnificent sapphire of wondrous size and luster. It was said to be worth the whole domain of the Warlord with the One Eye. It was said it glowed when it's owner was in danger of its life. She wore no headdress in this particular ceremony, just a magnificent pin of platinum was coiled about with twin dragons.

All that expensive magnificence paled to her eyes. They shone with true fire. An anger that would never bleed out under any other circumstance. She knew that all Emperors were allowed their harem, but never like this, there was decorum to follow. A very important period during which time she would be able to conquer the court so that she was Empress.

“You will accompany me to Yun-Hee's quarters.”

Brutander and Brundt jumped up. While they did not know their ancestry beyond their entrance into Cameo, they had a rare bloodline ability to sense feelings directed at them, an empathy. They could feel Lay's anger as surely as they could feel the heat from the splashing tea.

She motioned them out and the lady in waiting dragged out various robes far less ceremonial than what she was currently wearing. Brundt and Brutander gathered her two body guards from their spot outside the room. They formed a four square around the Empress when she flew out of the room dressed in a more robust outfit.

She waited a second for them to form up before power walking through the halls. The halls of the Imperial Palace were draped about magnificently. The Emperor, for all his pettiness, had a fine taste in wall hanging styles for the palace. He even knew enough about flowers to actually make decent choices about what flowers should be on display in the palace.

Oh, but all of that was lost on Lay. She remembered her ordeal with Sook-Hee, and was very suspicious when the Hee family, who had been suffering from some dishonor, supported her. And now it all made sense, perfect logic. Brundt and Brutander would have revealed this to her before now had they known.

Zeto was a fool, she realized now. But he was a fool surrounded by competency. She knew that Yun-Hee had enough supporters to give her troubles, but she had other high grounds. For now she couldn't move against her, but the opening moves, always so important.

When the Hees supported her, Yun-Hee would have access to the palace. Likely enough to seduce the Emperor without alerting others. Probably without him realizing it.

She arrived at her door far more quickly than she liked.

Chapter 5

The claws on the right hand of the Warlord with the One Eye clacked on his throne. It was very late, almost everyone was asleep. Dutra, his spy mistress may still be awake, but he didn't want to talk to anyone right now. His thoughts were his own. He reveled in the silence. He could think properly when he was alone.

He stalked his dark halls and scratched the walls. His right arm suffered from a necrosis, the flesh nearly rotted away, leaving nerves and bones. He had gained the mechanical arm from Anthea, his dwarf artisan and secretary. The necrosis he gained from a fight with an ancient evil that sadly yet lives. Though he would love to have revenge, he moved on to other things, much more important things.

When he was given immortality, he given a mandate, but more like a prophecy. This was compounded by dreams and whispers only he could hear. He was glad he was a warlord, anything less would have been disastrous to his rule. He started to head towards the sleeping quarters when Dutra appeared without a sound.

She was an elf of average size, but very thin, near emaciation. She ate well enough, so the Warlord put it down to metabolism. She wore cloaks that could mimic the colors of shadows and render her all but invisible. She was a skilled poisoner and alchemist, she was a consummate secret keeper and seeker. This made her the proper choice for his spy-mistress.

She was cold and decisive, but she liked him well enough to be loyal. Underneath her mask was her purple skin, nearly violet. Her eyes were piercing and her mouth a thin line. Her hair she kept in a bun and all her movements she controlled. She was the last of his 'secretaries' to join him.

She circled around him silently, watching him like a snake watches a mouse. She was suddenly touching him and forcing him to match her motions like a dance. He pulled away when he felt he had given her enough attention. “What is it, Dutra? Do you know Green Mustard's movements?”

She knelt and put her mask on, it was emotionless and steel. “He's gathering allies. Greasers, Valkyries, some Silicon Souls and others. They say even Fleet Admiral Gil Colin Graham will ride with him.”

“I would have thought him fighting in Estellion.”

“No, he is overseeing the creation of the second Exile.”

He walked to a window, looking out to his city, Eila. “They cannot afford not to. The loss of the Exile was dear to the Arcadians, and nearly destroyed their fighting spirit. To think that ship could last a thousand years and tens of thousands of battles. I'm told Kor the Battler, that Estellion admiral, was actually nearly panicking at the thought that cannon they used would not work.”

“Yes. But more pertinently, Cameo may be in unrest soon. The noblewoman, Yun-Hee, is making a move on the Emperor. I worry that our ally, Empress Lay Zeto, will be in danger. Brundt Liser will also be at risk if she falls, he has put much faith into her.”

“And if they lose power, the forces protecting the caravans of the non-humans will disappear.”

The Warlord stroked a wall hanging. “I will tell Philantha to move troops closer to the borders. We must prepare against such machinations. What of the Blood Meridian?”

“The xenophobes are still hiring forces of evil against the caravans. Punks from Arcadia and mercenaries from Willowscent are gathering at borders and making bold raids. Soon, they will begin to assault the main caravan lines.”

He began to pace again. “It's hard to act politically in times like this. I cannot afford to take a single step behind. I cannot make a fool of myself, at least in this manner.” He allowed himself a flashback.

It was day and he slouched on his throne. Lily, the leader of his secretaries, was introducing various leaders and nobles with whom he had to play nice. Suddenly, he heard a ruckus outside. People were fighting with his guards. He did not think of it as an assassination. The doors burst open, falling out of their hinges.

A great Badger Lord Utan rushed through, he was covered in blood, his own and others, in his attempt to reach the throne room. He was easily seven feet tall and more muscly than a body building Valkyrie. He threw himself before the steps leading to the Warlord's throne.

Lily stepped forward, wielding her signature naginata. “Who are you, badger, and what is your purpose? Why do you disturb us?”

“Lady! I wish to entreat the Warlord!”

“Then you should do so in a more respectful fashion! Don't come like a brigand and a warrior! Come humbly!”

The Warlord held up a hand for silence. “Who are you?”

“Lord Widestripe the Mighty. I rule the Utan in all the Neutral Lands.”

“I remember you. I knew your father.”

“Lord! Are you blind?! Do you not know? Are your spies actually working against you!?”

“I know what you are talking about.”

Widestripe leaped up and roared. “AND YET YOU DO NOTHING!” Everyone present feared he would try to attack the Warlord's person. “You sit in your halls as great injustice is done, even in your city and throne room! These speak honeyed words to keep you sleeping when you should awake!”

The Warlord stood up. “Who are you to say that? I know of the Blood Meridian's oppression. The Utan move out and go to my lands. I have welcomed them into my lands. What more do you want?”

“The Utan need more! They need protection. Do you think that they are warriors!? The Dog packs and the Wolf Clans and the Badger Lords can fight, but we are not numerous! We cannot protect them. The Rabbits Cats and Fox Families are being plucked apart by slavers and others even more hideous! Please! I know of your ancient pacts! I was told of them! You must help!”

“SILENCE!” The Warlord roared at the Badger. His mechanical hand reached out as if to strangle the Lord before him. “I remember the ancient pacts, they have been haunting my sleep this past year. Speak not of them. I will fulfill the pacts I made.”

He stood and addressed the crowd. “I shall never mention what pacts were made, but know that I honor them. Let my nation be a haven to the Utan. Let my nation's borders be safe. Let all know who rules this lands, and who he protects. UNTIL THIS IS OVER I WILL BE THE UTAN'S SHIELD!”

Now he stood in darkness. His armies, minor compared to many others, were moving to their borders and beyond to enforce his will. “Dutra. What are your thoughts?”

“Your allies gather around you and an army rushes to your aid under the mad Green Mustard. Things will turn in your favor, as they always have.”

He scratched a series of lines into the window sill. “I hope so. This is why I've done the things I've done and killed the people I killed. I've torn apart contracts, maps and alliances all to fulfill something that happened before your grandparents lived.”

“And I worried you were going soft.” She flitted into the shadows, disappearing before his eyes, on her way to do his bidding.

Interlude 1

King of Greasers-

The King of Greasers danced alone. He was in Abinoch, city of culture and movement. Songstresses and dance artists begin here. Not as a rule, fortunately, but the status quo favored artists here. The King of Greasers was no artist, he danced for battle and his own heart's torment. He had more energy in him than his body knew what to do with.

Greaser's formal dance fighting is truly a wonder to see. They begin in tandem, snapping their fingers until all is in one rhythm. They then start doing hand motions, making a charade of what their group likes. One group uses the hand motions like birds, symbolizing freedom. Then they begin the leg work, kicks and pirouettes and break dancing, all united.

When the King of Greasers got on that Linear Train, he didn't pay for a ticket. He didn't bring his coterie with him either. He would go to Abinoch alone. There, he would meet the leader of the Greasers in that area, Were Huey. Were would then head towards the launching point, gathering all Greasers that would still heed Andrew Dwade.

Were Huey was an old sort, the kind that respected their authorities. Were agreed and headed out immediately. Andrew Dwade walked into the Abinoch Dentin Megastructure. It was a gigantic building structure with a thousand thousand buildings and rooms within it. Hydroponics labs stretched on for miles and floors. One could find places to live that haven't been disturbed for a thousand years. Occasionally, the corpses of gigantic city builders, four or five times bigger than anything still functional, are found in the Megastructure cores providing power, and something else. It is very bad luck to even touch one.

Andrew Dwade walked into trams and elevators, moving about at his own will. The elevator guards, meant to keep riff-raff out of floors that did not belong, left him alone. He was the King of Greasers, after all. One he knew well, it was very old, put in by the city builders, rather than just be a copy.

“SOORR, VystTIng GURURL?” Their language was a broken facsimile of speech. Wrong syllables were given importance and words were butchered by barely functioning speech boxes. This knew him from his youth, even before he was a Greaser. He had not wooed Moira yet then.

“Yes.”

“SSSEEE'IS HELLLAING is TOld.” These mechanical beings listened to everything that people said, and are an excellent source of information about the people in the area.

“Thank You. Have a nice day.”

“BUUTE HREE parENTs woN'T mush wanT, SOOOORRR.” It said that to the back of Andrew Dwade, who waved at him. Andrew was grateful, though he expected that already.

He didn't recognize anyone he passed. As he understood, Abinoch's area was undergoing a small migration, certain industries had left and were heading out west to Guran Guro. There were much newer factories there and the workers were actually being paid to head out with them. This was actually quite common for Arcadian workers, families migrated roughly every three generations.

But the Bakura family hadn't moved but a floor into a higher level. This floor was for richer inhabitants and much more spacious. A benefit of the money sent by those worried about the King of Greaser's Doll's health. The Rhun Family had been especially generous, in return for heavy favors, of course. She had been given the best of care. If she had not been blessed so, the King of Greasers would have made deals with darker beings.

And that was why he danced alone. She was doing much better, but her parents blamed him. They deserved that right. He broke into break dancing, then flipped onto a massive air conditioning unit. He jumped down and began walking. The aggression had been worked out of his system for now, but not forever. He realized he had not taken his helmet off in several days.

He was not worried by that at all, in fact, it was strangely comforting to him. He stepped into a unmanned elevator and pressed the button to go down to a non-maintenance floor. He would hit the earliest train possible and go to his forces massing in the city of Doldarn.

For some reason, he felt very calm. Everything was going to be okay. His helmet was feeling very comforting right now.

Chapter 6

The western mountains of Sabbatholm are explored and mapped, but really, there are more than enough places to hide a Punk Jamboree. In the massive caves of Sabbatholm there is more than enough room for a gigantic party of violent nihilists who are out for blood.

The festivities were well underway. Punks jumped and danced and partied like there was no tomorrow. It was a nightmare scene, the sort of dream that is fueled by a terrible mixture of laudanum, LSD and acid. Fires burned out of control, casting shadows all about the cave system. Terrors roamed freely, basking in the glow of pure lasciviousness.

Faceless beings ancient as civilizations enjoyed the scene, lesser ones actually partaking therein. Other shadowy beings, summoned by dark shamanistic rituals sucked souls and blood equally, some destroying their summoners without thought. In the middle, a dark shaman who had real power manipulated shadow as he pleased, pushing the crowds to greater furor.

Nathan Kane watched it all from a box placed high above it all. He really didn't want to be there. There were two Punk girls trying to make him more comfortable, but he couldn't feel it. He knew he could get out there just fine, but the evil he felt sickened even a slave trader. He was a little enthralled by the shaman in the center.

“He's 'Willow the Wisp'. He's real, you know? Really real.” Erebus Waldren walked through with a punk chick at each arm. One was completely bald and studded with enough jewelry to make her face shine like a spotlight. The other was dressed in leather tight enough to strangle lesser men. He was enjoying the chaos, almost seemed to be feeding off of it. It made him very strange to Nathan Kane, who enjoyed order a lot more than he did the chaos that surrounded Erebus like a cloak.

“Where'd you find him?” Nathan refused a drink proffered to him. He had seen someone at least fall unconscious earlier after drinking something of the same color. Nathan gave him a look, nope, the guy was dead.

“The Arcadian Sewer System, believe it, man. He was summoning some big monster or something. Long story short, I killed it, man. Mounted it on the nearest wall like a trophy, man.” He drank the strange cool aid, with no ill effects, sadly. “He's like, 'What the shades!' And I'm like, 'I want you to join my crew! And he's like, 'Whatever man, I can't even look at you right now.'” He kicked a Punk out of the chair he wanted to sit in and sat down.

“So he's been with us ever since.” He drank more of the stuff, again, to no discernible affect on him. “He's a valued member of the community, yo. Really knows how to set the stages for a party. Had him summon up something nasty too, just for that Purple... Ketchup... something condimenty guy comin' over, yah know? One of those surprises like a bomb in your car, but this one's alive but steals souls, yo.”

“That sounds terrible. Anyway, have you received your orders?”

“Yeah, that Melon guy sent over a messenger. Poor sod got himself eaten by a... horrorshow, you know?” Nathan Kane didn't know. He didn't want to know. General Luke Merron had enough disposable people to spare anyway. “You don't mind the fact that I treated that life like trash?” He leaned in towards Nathan Kane with a literal shark tooth grin.

“A little, life has value.” Nathan Kane was a consummate capitalist, if nothing else.

“AH HA H AH AH AHHA HA HA!” Erebus leaned back deeply and laughed loudly. “OH LAWL. I knew you'd say something like that. I knew it! Ha HA! This is fun! VERY FUN!” He threw the absurd kool aid into the crowds. One raving raver screamed in pain and scratched out her own eyes. Nathan was very glad he didn't drink anything. “Delicious. Now then, CAPITALISM!”

“Yes?”

“Well?”

“Nothing until you actually deliver goods.”

“What do you call those boxes of Utan I sent you?”

“THEY WERE DEAD! I need living slaves! Living!” The nightmare was still very fresh in his mind. He had seen bad things in his day, but please, they had stuffed the meat so tightly it burst out when they opened the crates. “I need to make a profit to give you money! I know that you are used to just killing everything, but, in your best interest, keep 'em alive.”

Erebus' eyes glimmered strangely, and the girls moved away from the two of them. “Was that an order?” He drank down a different colored drink, this smelling strongly of lilacs. “I don't like being ordered around.”

“I know you don't understand what I do, but it's so simple, just call in locations. We gave you the equipment! ” He stood up, towering over the Punk. He had his hand on his sword, expecting the Punk to leap at him. Nothing happened.

“You must have been given courage by the Light itself to stand up to me. Or courage from the Shades themselves, more likely, yo.” He drank another tumbler of the lilac smelling stuff. “We start following your rules, yeah? We be your capitalistic lapdogs for your songs, yeah? But know one thing, man, don't ever talk to me like that again. Chaos and Shades. Don't you dare even STAND at me like that again.”

Nathan Kane left as the mad man began to laugh at some poor Punk being strangled by a Faceless One. The poor soul was actually being lifted up by the villain's face tentacles. Nathan Kane was very glad to leave. Not because he feared for his life, but because he feared for his sanity. It was dangerous just being in that monster's presence.

He left the cave and crossed a sea of motorcycles and armored cars. There make, model and number innumerable. He knew that more would leave that cave than came in. He knew that this was merely one part of an army now dedicated to the enslavement of those refugees. Those poor dears, he almost felt sorry for them. They would actually be treated better as slaves, than under these monsters. The days were gone when vague honors ruled the underworld.

No, but Punks had always existed in the background, mostly supressed by the power and authority of the organizations, but in the ordered chaos of Arcadia? No such power balance exists as was understood. It would figure that the most advanced nation would bring out the great degenerates.

He arrived at his car and was very grateful that his driver was still alive. As he left, he swore he would not go to a Punk party again. He did not sigh in relief until he was in his base, surrounded by his personal army and guards. He could not. The slave trade was order, but the Punks were chaos. Frankly, he was glad he had gotten them this far at all. He would never know why Ronch Loran requested their aid, or why they gave it.

Chaos was chaos, but at least it could be bribed.

Chapter 7

The small town of Durdo, in Sabbatholm, is the main hub of slavers for nearly five hundred miles around. You wouldn't know it to look at it. Small houses line roads that are only covered in dirt. The villagers know what dirty deeds happen, and ignore them, paid well for the privilege. The caves were where the real action happened.

Nathan Kane was recuperating in an underground spa. He needed it so much. The hot liquid washed his troubles away. The punks had received their orders and that's all he had needed to do. He grabbed a drink, provided by a house slave, another human, and savored it. This was a juice made of a mix of apples and cherries popular in the region. He thanked the slave with a grunt and waved her away. He liked her a bit more than the others, she couldn't talk.

He felt a cool breeze from an open door. “I gave orders not to be disturbed by business!” He heard no answer. He had a spike hidden next to him, and he grabbed it. He didn't draw it, if he killed someone unnecessarily, there would be trouble. “I know you are there, I feel the breeze and the steam's dying down. I see you!”

The shadow became real. Ronch Loran grinned at him. “I guess I've had enough fun. How are you?” Ronch Loran was a fine example of a man. Even featured and well muscled, he was the public face of the xenophobic Blood Meridian. His chin jutted heroically, and no one could imagine his eyes held the soul of a killer. His brown hair was arrayed in a generic, but very suiting, style that evoked a feeling of trustworthiness. This guy was a human, and that was comforting.

But Nathan Kane knew him. Nathan Kane him knew him well enough to hate him. He was the chief servant of Rollan Briscolletti from his youth, though who was the master was an impossible question. He was cruel, more out of his personal excess than true malice. He was a dog with a leash, but untrained. When a target was given to him, he destroyed it. This excess made him the operational head of the Blood Meridian.

Nathan Kane stood in direct contrast to him. He was brown skinned with a black mustache. A boxing match ill set meant that his chin jutted a little. His nose, again ill set from the same match, was crooked. He had scars on his chest from fights against rivals in his hard rise to the top. He kept himself bald, after a rival grabbed him by the hair and nearly killed him. He had many rings, not because of any vanity, but because they made a great impromptu brass knuckles, and he kept a poison liquid in a special sealed ring. He had immunized himself to that poison, to avoid his own downfall.

Nathan Kane was made by hardships and gang war. He had, however, risen above his underlings to become a leader, albeit mostly by strength. He adopted high culture and now enjoyed it with an even mix of sanity and cunning. Ronch Loran was made by intrigue and back stabbing. He had risen above all the backstabbers by out backstabbing them all then killing who they held most dear. He lived in culture and could never truly enjoy it because of his near paranoia and too much shrewdness.

“Ronch Loran, your interruptions are always a pleasure I never enjoy.” Nathan sank back into his spa, he was determined to enjoy his one half-hour to himself. “What do you want? Those Punks are insane. I feel like they were raping my mind. I gave the message, and they'll head out whenever the survivors recover from their bacchanal.” He said 'bacchanal' syllable by syllable. He liked the sound of the word.

Ronch Loran gave him a funny bow in mock respect. “Well I'm glad it worked out. Erebus well?” He laughed at Nathan's expression. “Well is a word I would use loosely with him. Alive is a better word for it!” He sniffed a shampoo. “You don't have any hair.”

“I have a mustache; they make shampoo you can use on mustaches. Is that all you wanted to say?” He sank a little deeper into the water. His cares floated away a little more. If Ronch would leave, he could summon that slave girl for another of those fruit drinks... Light, so good.

“I guess I was just here to ask for an update. But I suppose that isn't important. Enjoy your soak.” He left the door open as he left. Nathan yelled an insult at his back. Ronch laughed. “Sticks and stones, my puppet.” Nathan's good feeling was nearly going. Ronch wondered if he should remove it completely, but decided against it. He couldn't push Nathan too far, he was more a warrior than the nobles that he was used to dealing with.

Ronch walked out of the spa towards the female leaning against the wall. Her eyes were entirely black, speaking of possession by a shade. Her clothes were very mismatched. It was like someone had watched a few fashion shows then heard about the concept of avant garde. As a result, only a few of the pieces matched, that is, her socks. Her pants were some sort of fabric Ronch didn't recognize, but the coloration was tartan. She wore a tweed jacket of a color Ronch didn't know the name of but looked a mix of white and blue.

“Well, he's alive, and as sane as could be expected.” He leaned against the wall next to her. “Why did you refuse, you'd said that you'd tell me after the party.”

She moved an arm to wave him off. Black shadowy smoke followed it, bleeding off her. The body was soulless, that was why the shade inhabiting it had such an easy time controlling it. There was a draw back, a shade's body shape do not perfectly match a human's. They bleed out a little. “I could have met a few old superiors. You know, I quit them and worked for another guy. The Prime Revenant, you haven't heard of him.”

She sighed. “Some of those Eidolons and Revenants didn't like one of the few remaining 'smart' shades defecting to some johnny come lately. Well, I can't do anything about it. I could feel them from here, it was nearly scary.” It smiled, or rather, gave a facsimile of a smile. “What do you want, anyway?”

“Why does everyone say that?” He shrugged. “I'm not that shallow a person.”

“Because you only talk to me like this when you want something.” She started walking away. “But I have an idea. Spy on old Green Mustard. You talked about it the last time we spoke.”

“Good girl.” Even though the shade seemed loyal, Ronch had no idea why it was working for him. He shouldn't really trust it, but he liked saying he had a shade for an underling.

He walked out to a veranda. The vista would have been magnificent if the sun was rising. He found he was not alone. “Baez, what a pleasant night, how are you?”

“Fine until you showed up.”

“Everyone's hating. Nathan yelled dirty things at me. No one trusts me... mine is a sorry lot in life.”

Baez sighed. He wanted to walk away, but Ronch's masters gave him a pay check he could never refuse. He wished that he didn't love money more than he loved others, but that was a weakness he could live with. “What's up, Ronch?”

“Just wanting to fool about a bit. You got any orders?”

“The usual junk. Make sure to thank your master, Rollan Briscolletti for his continued patronage of my boss. It is appreciated. I don't care about all that, and neither do you. Any information I should know about? Any moves you're making that I should fear?”

“Why should you fear anything I do?” Ronch smiled at the general. He should be thankful for all the stuff that they've been doing for them.

“Because somehow the Pillars haven't gotten on us like a hammer. It's rather troublesome for me to spend my nights worrying that some super powered chick that's the personification of one of the twelve major gems' powers will come kicking down my door in the night.”

“Sounds hot. But I guess that's just a matter of opinion.”

“Ronch, if you don't stop being a jerk to everyone, no one's going to follow you.” Merron was tired.

“In a word? Money. In another word? Fear.”

Baez placed his palm on his face and sighed deeply. “That's not what it's about. Sure that works for nobles and servants. But out here, there are MEN. True warriors who know who and how to kill punks like you for a one coin. It's a different thing to the intrigues of court. I speak from experience. Either you stop alienating powerful people out here, or you're going up a creek without a paddle, as the young people say.”

Ronch Loran laughed into the night sky.

Chapter 8

The living quarters of Yun-Hee were opulent, but tastefully so. Gold trimmed everything and pearls adorned a bed large enough for five. The sheets were of the finest gold thread and silks. The drapes were made of lace, supposedly from the hair of the purest virgins. The bed posts were silver cored by the finest mahogany.

There were chairs and tables set up so that one could eat well and have an intimate conversation. The windows overlooked the setting sun. They were framed by latticed, sweet smelling wood. All around were art pieces, trumping all was an original by Van Goht: 'Brave Soldier and Girl with a Big Heart Share a Kiss in the Moonlight'. The Hee family owned that piece, and refused time and time again to show it in an art museum.

The Emperor Zeto was sitting in a very thick and comfortable sofa. He was half sunk in and nearly drunk. Yun-Hee was personally serving him drinks. He was already half unbuttoned, and was in the process of losing his outer robes. Brundt Liser started as he saw that all the Emperor's rings lying on the table. If someone stole those, they could impersonate the Emperor and sign things into law.

Yun-Hee was dressed very provocatively, with a kimono who's bottom was far too short and the neck line which dived down enough to leave little for the imagination. It was decorated with a snake that began on her shoulder. It had jeweled eyes but the fangs were absent. Her nails looked sharp, but were rounded enough to avoid cutting. They were painted red and orange. Her lips were painted red, with a dip in the center to give them a more full look.

She was dressed for seduction and the fool Emperor Zeto was falling for it. Empress Lay now wondered whether she made the right choice. But the two had stopped their tryst in surprise. Now was the time to strike.

“I was looking for you, my Emperor, and I wondered why I have not seen you in a while. I see that you have been spending time with this woman.” She made a motion with her hand. Brutander rushed forward and man handled Yun-Hee into a chair. Not what she wanted him to do, but they'll work on hand signals later. “I fear that she has been seducing you.”

She sat where Yun-Hee was sitting. The Emperor was still quite confused about what was happening. “Well, maybe. What? Why are you here? No one was supposed to know...” Lay sighed.

“My Emperor, you cannot go anywhere at any time whenever you want. It's because you are the Emperor.”

“But when the Emperor wants to go somewhere, he does somewhere!” He drank another glass of expensive rice wine. He was not drunk enough yet to slop his drinks. Lay thought that was a pity. “And I want to go here.”

“But my Emperor... you cannot go places that would harm you. Here, Brundt, give him your arm, we'll take him to my chambers.”

Yun-Hee stared down Brutander. Then found her voice.“But the Emperor doesn't want to go, Darling.” She smiled at him. “We were having such a good time, Darling. I have more drinks and I can always lock the door...” She gave another poisonous stare to Brutander and he was pushed away from her by her will. She turned back to Emperor and flashed him a smile. “Darling, I thought we were discussing our political alliance?”

Lay tried to interrupt, but failed to get in before the Emperor spoke.

The Emperor's eyes glowed. “Yes! Yes we were! It's very important. Yes.” He scratched his head. “Marriage?”

Lay lost a little of her composer. “You can't do that! There's a two year wait before you pick up more wives.” This was to give consideration to the first wife, that is, Lay. It was thought very good taste. “Please come back to my quarters. We can't have a scandal like this so early in your reign.” Yun-Hee jumped in. “But that doesn't matter, darling. If the Emperor orders it, the servants will not talk.” When she said 'servants' she looked meaningfully at the two Lisers. Brutander looked like he wanted to say something but Yun-Hee stared at him again.

Brundt's age prevented him from being quelled by her looks. He was furious despite an even look on his face. “Lady, do not tempt us. We are not the same sort of noble as you are. We were warriors first. Strongest of the strong and we have bloodied our hands more than is remembered by all history books. If you ever do anything to hurt the Emperor, we will skin you alive.”

The Emperor started up. “Whoa! We're all friends here. Brundt, get out. I know you're loyal and all, but I need to have fun. It's not like I've got anything else to do.” He said that last sentence very sullenly. It was a known fact that after the gem cartridge economic recession, he was not allowed near actual decision making. “I'll do whatever I want. Get out. Lay, you too. I'll see you tonight.”

He got up and left, headed towards his wing of the palace. He did not like to be reminded that he was just a figure head, not at all. Brutander lent him his shoulder and he took it. Lay nearly ran out of the room once he left. Brundt went after her, but not before firing off a parting gesture.

“You may think us dogs. We are, and we enjoy the master's scraps even as you try to take them away. But when troubles and calamities arise and we are there? I wonder who the Emperor will remember? His dogs? Or a snake?” He left before she could fire back.

“Empress Lay! Please wait up!” He ran, huffing and puffing after her. “It's not that bad! He'll come to see you later!” He stopped where she stopped; Lay was surprisingly fast. “It'll work out. He'll get board of her sooner than you think and he'll come back to you. I know his kind.”

“But you aren't his wife. I'm sorry, Brundt Liser, but I am canceling our meetings for a while. Or until I want you around again.”

“Yes my lady, of course. My daughter, will she still be allowed to take lessons from you?” She just wanted to be alone, he knew, but he couldn't allow that. She was the Empress, after all.

“Yes. Just go away.” He left her by herself. He grabbed a servant and began to spread the word and some cash. The movements of Yun-Hee and Empress Lay were to be reported to him. If something unusual happened, he was to be contacted immediately. Yun-Hee was a snake with fangs, after all. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> The Emperor was very silent for a long while. He sobered up a little by the time they reached his apartments. “Why did I do that to Lay?” He sighed and took a robe from a drawer. He hated servants constantly fawning over him; it felt fake. He didn't mind non-servants, though they were sucking up, but it felt more genuine. The Lisers never felt that way, at least, he hoped so.

It pained him to be constantly on his guard. But it was all breaking down. He wasn't caring any more. Self destruction was almost glorious to what he felt now. It was why he allowed Yun-Hee to hang around. He didn't not like Lay, and he would visit her as he promised. But it wouldn't progress him.

Two things, he planned, would advance him back to a proper ruling position. The Blood Meridian. Billions and billions of humans panicking. He knew he was a puppet. Oh, but for how long? Ronch Loran was a high functioning sociopath/sadist. He would eventually fall like all his kind. Rollan Briscolletti, without his servant's support, would find enemies at his bedside when he awoke from a night's sleep. Already, Zeto the Emperor had secretly funded the 'destroyed' House Ashera's servants, the Spectres. It was only a matter of time.

The second thing was Yun-Hee herself. She was pursuing him for power, he knew this. Why else would any female be interested him. He knew Lay enjoyed the power she had as Empress. Yun-Hee would pursue it with a passion nearly devouring her. She would purge those who were threatened by his power. He knew that the Lisers would come out alive and others who were loyal. But who else would? Ha! He would then have Yun-Hee killed and he and Lay would be Emperor and Empress. Liser would be glad to do it, Light knew that he would want to do it.

“Brutander. Thank you, I nearly lost my head.” He wouldn't have. His alcohol tolerance had become inhuman after his doctors secretly put in a mechanism to prevent poisonings. He did, however, fake it.

“Ever your loyal servant, My Lord.” Brutander bowed deeply to him. “The Lisers are your allies forever. When my grandfather killed his rebellious father we sealed our loyalty in blood.”

“I know. I know you would do anything for me.”

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That night, as Emperor Zeto visited the chambers of his Empress, Yun-Hee plotted. In the inner chamber of her rooms were Shyn, one of the captains of the guards and Jasinde, a representative from the Assassin's guild. They were, of course, discussing treachery most foul.

Shyn was the most vocal of the group. He was young, an old friend of Brutander, but he lacked certain traits. He was known for being a braggart, but one who would often follow up on deeds when challenged. He was given command because he was tougher than most of the guards and he could display tactical skill.

He was thick chested, but lacked the same bulk in his legs, giving him the look of a triangle. He kept his hair in a pony tail that fell to his elbows. It was said he once strangled an assassin with it. His eyes were different colors, blue and brown, it was a genetic impossibility that had been studied for years.

“Not a day goes by when I don't hear of some idiocy. He flirts and drinks and ignores protocol and it's driving me insane!” He had been drinking. He actually lived in something of a half drunk state, which somewhat endeared him to his men. It was said that no matter how much or how little he drank, he would never leave this state.

Yun-Hee jeered at him. “Your poor grammar is the true monster here.” Jasinde nodded sagely. Jasinde was the opposite of a man like Orvan Kits. She took orders and money from clients, then sent them to the proper assassination teams. She dressed in black as a rule, mostly to hide in the shadows as necessary. These came with the dangers of the occupation.

She was a different breed from the relatively easier going Orvan Kits. She was leaner and tougher. She knew the exits to a room before entering it. She could kill a fully armored man with one strike and was immune to thirty different kinds of poison. She was of low rank within the Guild, but Yun-Hee didn't know that.

“Time to talk business. Yun-Hee, the only reason the Guild is assisting you is because you have money, and a plan. We've accepted your money, but the plan on faith. We need to know your plan before we progress forward.” She had not eaten or drank anything. She was wearing a mask to hide her face, more than her identity.

“Darling, this is why he's here. I marry the Emperor. Use my influence to put Captain Shyn here as the top captain. Then you come in and kill him. Darling, here's the kicker. I understand that the Warlord with the One Eye is moving troops into position, his top warriors. Now, what's to say he won't send some assassins? I'll be the bereaved widow. The people will rally behind me as I take the mantle of Empress of Cameo and leadership of the Blood Meridian. I've already talked to Ronch Loran about this, and Briscolletti promises its support.”

“Too simple.”

“Darling, the simplest plans are the best.”

Intermission 2: Stellaria

Stellaria was nearly alone. Only one other Valkyrie was with her inn the building, her son. She looked out to the stars and remembered better days. There were days when the battles were hard and the nights so long and dark. But she was never alone. It was comforting to her.

She knew what her dead husband would say about this. “GET OFF YOUR LAZY BUTT AND FIGHT!” But she couldn't feel it. She couldn't move forward or backward in the time that she was given. Her army abandoned her to do what it thought was right. She liked living better before she got involved with leadership.

But someone had to do it. Her husband laughed at so many different diplomats. He had kicked them off stages, hijacked trains and blew one tough nut out of a cannon. Then House Teradoc took a personal hand. They'd both been beaten up and told to behave by House Delphine's attack dog. At least they had Valkyrie blood in them.

Then things became stressful. Battles became sordid affairs. Blood spilled by water and their kill count went up faster than it had been before. It was different, though, tainted. The glory wasn't in it anymore. They took over these towers and lived here. They stagnated. Stellaria knew this killed him, and was killing her.

She had to do something. She looked through the window and saw her reflection. She wasn't as tall as she was before. There were bags under her eyes and her silver hair was turning a dull gray. She was aging fifty years too early. She screamed and threw a chair through the window. She felt satisfied as it shattered, and energized. Her blue fire returned to her and made her feel warm. She knew what she had to do now.

Her son ran into the room. “What is it? Did someone attack?!” He was glowing blue with a fierce fire.

“No, I was destroying a reflection of myself. I'm going to visit Lord Lunarious. You remember him?”

“He kicked me through a wall.”

“Next time, you'll remember not to annoy him. Pack and lets go.”

Her son shouted back as he ran to his room. “It's good to see you do something, mom!”

Chapter 9

Ten Days after Green Mustard Meets with the King of Greasers

The city of Sandreggo had three hundred thousand people in it. It was known for one thing, a vast amount of non-humans living there. Their numbers reached seventy percent. This was true before the War of Estellion Aggression, and after, eighty. It was an unimportant city of the Neutral Lands, ruled by a corrupt man who secretly sold the souls of the city's inhabitants to slavers.

They knew this when the first north gate, relics from less advanced times, shattered and turned to splinters. They were swarmed by wickedly grinning slavers. They were thousands in number and empowered by shadowy strengths given by demons. Erebus Waldren led them, though he alone cast only one shadow. It was an invasion. The people were no warriors, and most of their young men and warriors had gone on to take the fight to the Estellion Sky Empire itself.

But, there was one bastion that stood against the darkness. The Church of the Light stood against the invaders and gathered all they could into their cathedrals, and they became the last safe place. Long ago, according to their stories, the forces of Shadow made great war against the Church. Suddenly, a bright light burst in the sky and a purifying sun burned on all the battlefields.

Their prophets revealed that the Light had sacrificed a portion of itself for them. They were strengthened in spirit, and the Church of the Light was truly born. They never lost their hawkish observance. After all, Shadows were real, weren't they? And though they could never bring themselves together in such strength again, they must be vigilant.

And it payed off. Sandreggo was actually a center for the Church for the Neutral Lands. There were around six hundred Temple Knights and twenty Templar Captains and one Bishop. They opened their doors and sortied against the slavers and pushed them back long enough to save a good hundred thousand. So many were killed and captured that they nearly despaired.

Then they received word from the unlikeliest source, “The Warlord was on the move. Hold out for five days.” Their hope renewed, they fought on, closed their doors and the darkness splashed against it. The Bishop, Kasimir the Pious, declared that this was the workings of the Light, and they were not to lose hope.

But that was easier said and done by far. It fell on the Templar Captains of the twenty remaining cathedrals to make it reality. Thus, Revecka Sland, a Wolf Utan/Human half-blood was bound to the fight. Fortunately, there were still a few who could augment the fighting force of the Templars. They fought against the innumerable shadows that came with the invaders. By the end of those five dark days, they were fewer, and their lights sparkled dimly.

Five days after the message, the Slavers were banging down her doors. They had no more rabbit holes to ambush from. The city was burning. Should the slavers get their desire, they would too. They were Punks and the dregs of society. Chaotically evil, the only reason they worked for the slavers was for the cash and the opportunity to do more destruction.

Revecka slumped against the pounding doors that reminded her of a failing heart. Normally, she would be doing charity, training or assisting the Bishop in his sermons. She was a warrior priestess of the highest caliber, but she had begun to reach the end of herself. She had lost track of her husband, the Human Templar Captain Bogden Sland.

Kasimir walked up to her. His cane was more for show than anything else. It was expected. He had a great long beard, white and wispy. He grew it after becoming a Bishop. He felt that it was something of a requirement. His Skufia was large, and his eye brows were wider than his face. He looked like a very wise, bearded owl. He was considered third in line for an Archbishop seat for his knowledge and, well, piety.

“It's not good to sit there, they could burst through at any second, Light forbidding.” He sat down beside her, taking care not to tread on his beard. “No, you'd be arming yourself if we were in danger of them coming in.” He tapped her shoulder with his cane. “You haven't slept in two days, have you?”

“No.”

“Well, you can sleep in warmth. You Wolf Pack Utan are going to be coming in here to sleep. They've had a rough time of it and they're exhausted. They've only got a reprieve because the slavers have moved off to prey on poor Andias' cathedral. Horrible people. Alien. Even I must doubt their humanity.”

The first of the Wolf Utan threw themselves down on the mats various helpers had put on the ground for them. They soon formed, according to their custom, a gigantic pile, growing larger and warmer with each new body. Pretty soon, the mass got large enough to reach Bishop Kasimir and his second. He had five different younglings draped over him. Revecka, as she was considerably 'sturdier' had nearly ten.

“Quite comfortable, once you get used to it.” Kasimir dryly commented. Revecka knew, from experience, that he would get used to anything. “I suppose you'd prefer something else. Someone Else.”

“Some Bishop you are.” She didn't say it with a smile. The pounding behind her stopped. The invaders had stopped their assault and were likely looking for something sturdier. “It's been five days and the Warlord's not here. Even I am beginning to doubt whether it was meant to be.”

“Light knows. I may know something else too.” He smiled at her, and shifted a young Wolf Utan off of his head onto Revecka's. He laughed at the sight. “Maybe he's within five minutes march of here. Maybe, he was waiting for that darkest moment, like when the Light burned away our enemies. Of course he would. Life works according to a level of the dramatic.”

He lifted the rest of them onto various positions on her. He also handed her a paper. “At your doorstep. Rest up and stay inside. Won't guarantee your safety if you leave your Cathedrals.” She tried to get up, but Kasimir pressed his cane on her shoulder, that, and the weight of those Wolf Utan, kept her down. “You expect me to stay here while they fight for us?”

“You think they're going to lose? Rest.”

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Erebus Waldren was in 'the groove'. It was one of those days where everything was going far too right for it to stay that way. Think about, nothing bad had happened to him for forty eight hours. And he was just given the best coffee he ever tasted. “Guys! Keep goin'! Break those doors down!” He liked the spires on the Cathedral in front of him. It was... like... the best building looking thing ever! If he got to keep this city, this would be his headquarters.

“Are you entirely certain that your plans are as fool proof as you say it is?” The one talking to him was an abomination. His real species was merely a normal Faceless One. He was a very powerful and ancient. He also felt a great hatred for Erebus. He was on the lawful side of evil. What was the point of all this conquering if you couldn't rule it with an iron fist!

“What, killin' all resisters and slavin' the rest ain't a plan? I believed it a good one, man.” He sipped from a coffee cup he found on the ground. This was some good coffee. He was wearing his great coat. It had all sorts of weapons in it. It was collared with the scalps of people he killed and one guy who choked on a pretzel. Erebus still couldn't figure out how that happened.

“What if someone with an army attacks? From the south gate, perhaps?”

“We run or something. Maybe fight them if I think I can take them.” He sipped his coffee again. “We're about to get our behinds napalmed, aren't we? Rather sucks, man.” The Faceless One had disappeared and Erebus was alone. He sipped his coffee again, finishing it off. He tossed it to one of his majordomo's for safe keeping before putting on his goggles. The goggles protected his eyes against dust, very important.

“Punks! We're heading out! Be sure to get those caravans movin'. Yeah. And tell those slavers we need them at the south end of the city. Yeah. Punks with me!” He revved his engines and wheelied out of there. He past up the last of the slave caravans and kept moving. The slavers were whooping and moving towards the south. He calculated they would give him enough time to get out with the greater part of the prisoners. If they made the Camean border they'd be fine. The Blood Meridian promised troops in case of interference, after all.

Chapter 10

The first sign the slavers were in for disaster was the southern gates, closed against fugitives attempting to escape, shattering. Shattering is an understatement. Shattering implies there are chunks remaining around, or even half of a door lying around. The Doors were destroyed in a horizontal pillar of light. They turned to dust at the speed of light and everything behind them for one hundred feet was annihilated.

The offending party waited for the dust to settle a little before revealing themselves. By this time, a slaver commander by the name of Baez quickly organized a defense and called for reinforcements. By the time there were about five hundred of them, with more on the way, the dust was down to half the height, but it was enough.

It started with a blue glow, Valkyries, obviously, he smirked. Then came the real shock. With a roar and an earthquake, two giants, a hundred feet tall each, swinging great spiked war hammers. They kicked a tank into the stratosphere and killed ten with their first swings. The Valkyries and humans charged in after them. The humans brought with them Arcadian Speed Tanks and heavy weapons.

The slavers began to rout, but Baez was wily. He had to be to even survive half as long as he did. He was a veteran of many battles. He had been there when Galton the King had fallen to the forces of Lumina Kaphisilla, local regent of the Neutral Lands of the House Kaphisilla. The tactics were the same. Blow up the doors, send in the big guns, and then clean up the rest with light troops.

As with all problems presented to Baez, his first resort is to blow it up and deal with the fall out later with liberal amounts of much smaller explosives and ordinance. There was a literal ton of Ruby 'Big Bertha' Bombs. Indeed, the explosion was big enough to stumble one giant and sent the other into a small cluster of hotels. Most of the tanks were disabled and their front line was in disarray. Now was the time for a strategic retreat and entrenchment, he needed to gauge their strength better.

Baez had already realized that Erebus Waldren had scarpered. He knew that the slave caravan wasn't going to make it without heavy interference. Baez dodged a rather disoriented Valkyrie. “FLEE COWARDS! Sky Knight Warrun is here!” Baez stabbed him, then ran off. The Valkyries were falling like fish in a dynamited lake, but they were numerous and blood thirsty.

“Slavers! Regroup at your planned points! Resist them, but do not engage in deep combat!” He got into a jeep and drove to his regrouping point. There, he calmly adjusted his body armor and walked in. He flipped open the Communication array to all channels. He breathed in and calmly began. “Gentlemen and women! We have an issue! The southern gate has been overrun. Now, the issue here is that our main slave caravans haven't finished leaving yet. Now, I want the mobile armors and the speed tanks to use guerrilla tactics. Force the enemy towards the east gate. I want them to think that we are based towards the west. Also, I want those attacking the remaining cathedrals to pull back and mine the area around them.”

He quickly cycled through his mental checklist. “Lastly, I want people to conserve resources. The enemy is multi-species. Do not underestimate what they could bring to the battle. It will take two hours to get the last of them out. After two hours, beat a fighting retreat.” He waved over to his second, Cold Eye Anastas. She was a Cryock, that is, a master of using ice against her enemies. She shot them with special cartridges based on the Sapphire Gemstone. “We're getting out of here. We need to tell Nathan Kane what happened. The only force against us is the One Eyed Warlord. If he's actually leaving his lands, the game is entirely changed.”

“Aye, sir. You telling the men?”

“No, these guys are expendable. You think Nathan would put his best men on the first assault? Come on, I'm sure I saw Elves in their vanguard. They have an eye for enemy commanders like myself.”

Baez and Anastas slipped into a sewer hole and ran down the service passageway to the water purification facility. They ignored various refugees who had inhabited the area and focused on their escape.

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Bogden Sland was about five seconds away from his last stand. He had buckled on his armor again and was about to charge out of his splintered Cathedral gates and put his trust in the Light that he could hold off the enemy until the Warlord's forces arrived. Indeed, he had nearly done this twice before, but each time he had been stopped by some new idea to keep the Slavers at bay. Not so this time.

He was surrounded by his Temple Knights. They had similarly armed themselves. Behind barricades were the refugees. They had taken up ranged arms and were ready to fire when the doors fell. Bogden Slander shivered with anticipation. He didn't mind the whole dying bit, but he would make those slavers pay dearly for every captive.

Leaving Revecka would be bothersome, though. The Central Cathedral was actually a great deal sturdier than his, he was sure that their doors would be holding out pretty well even now. He sighed a bit, he had missed her company. The last time they met...

(Flashback!)

They were standing back to back on the roof of the best restaurant of Sandreggo. The restaurant was known for its delicious home made ice cream and it's masterful cooking of steaks. They had been cornered there when they met scouting, before the enemy began their siege of the Cathedrals. The enemy was fifty sword users...

“SIR! They are about to breach!”

He snapped himself out of the flashback. The doors looked like they only had one hit left to them. But the enemy wasn't attacking anymore. No... he heard fighting! He ran to a slit window and looked out. Warriors in unknown livery were attacking the Slavers. He shouted out orders, there was a slaver on fire charging the door with a jeep, that was also on fire.

“Hold the line! We're gonna be the anvil to their hammer!” He held up his sword and shield. “Light strengthen us against the darkness!” The Jeep burst through and crashed into the floor. The driver was too awesome and on fire to live through it. The slavers burst through, forced into the confrontation by the Warlord's forces.

The Temple Knights held firm. The remaining slavers fled into the streets. What Bogden assumed was a commanding officer walked in. “Sir! Am I speaking to the Templar Captain in charge of this Cathedral? Good. I am in charge of protecting what refugees that remain. As the fuel tank of the vehicle behind us is about to explode, would you mind giving me a leaping high five?”

“Of course!” They leaped together, slapping hands as the fuel tank exploded. It was an awesome ending to serious business.

“Back to work. We've got word, the Central Cathedral, Thirteenth Chapel and the Starlight Church still stand, while five others were in a similar condition to yours. The other eleven have fallen completely and burn. We need you to defend this against any scum looking to hide. They're pushing us to the east, trying to protect the slave caravans that haven't left yet.”

The commander left a force with Bogden and ran out to press the enemy. Bogden slumped down against a pillar. “Revecka! We'll meet at the end of this! I knew we would!” He set up a patrol and sent a runner to the Bishop Kasimir. He would wait for instruction. Hundreds of his brethren had gone to be with the Light in the Halls of the Believers. But they would mourn their loss later. Too many slavers still roamed the streets, despite the Warlord's forces.

Chapter 11

General Luke Merron of Sabbatholm was corpulent, but merely describing him as such was an insult to obese people. He realized that fat people are harder to kidnap so he made himself the size of a van, but that still is something of an understatement. When he started gaining weight, he kept eating, and never stopped. Luke Merron had a small helicopter with rocket boosters attached to him. It was considered one of the wonders of Sabbatholm that he did not die of a heart attack. Best betting odds were on less than six months, but they had stayed at those odds for years.

His face was still angular, despite the fat. The angles at his cheek bones flapped with his mouth movements actually causing small drafts. Disturbingly, he used the massive folds of fat to keep near everything he could possible needed in them. The most disturbing incident involved his missing assistant. Once, Luke Merron fell off of his chair, and among the paraphernalia of trash, food and weapons (8XL), was the body of the missing man. Apparently, Remeirdo Moon, 'The Legendary Soldier', was paying him back for not letting him have a ride on his helicopter/rocket chair.

He was a man who distinguished himself by being the lapdog of whoever was in power at the time. His current assignment was to drive the refugees from Cameo out of Sabbatholm. They were a massive burden on the economy and the crime families in the area did not want to take advantage, as it was wasn't viewed as very profitable.

Luke Merron, being something of a key member of the Blood Meridian, took pleasure from this job. He was currently overseeing the movement of nearly one million refugees from a camp they had set up leaving Cameo. He heard the wailing of the women and children and it gave him sustenance. He was still hungry, though. So he munched on a sandwich that had been found mere moments before. He did not remember that sandwich.

Finally, he saw the man of the hour, Nathan Kane. They were beginning to settle things, finally. Food was expensive these days, at least in the quantity at which he went at it. While he had an excellent pay check, him being a general and all, he spent most of it on fuel, both for him and his rocket/helicopter abomination.

“Nathan Kane! Been so long. I remember that time I bought a Bunny from you. Cute thing. Disappeared when I ordered her around. Don't know where.” Nathan Kane nearly fell down. He was supported by the recently arrived Baez. It was rumored that this happened quite often. He thought that they hid in his folds until he fell asleep. “Now I know you are a man of means, and I need means.”

“Yessir.” Nathan kept a 'respectable' distance. He was too far for Luke to eat him. That was silly, Luke wasn't a cannibal, yet. It was more like he was too far for spittle to reach him. “What sort of means can I provide for you?”

“Look out there. Do you see an interestingly delicious sight?” He gestured with either a hand or a limb like fold of fat.

“I see a million poor people who are without true defense. Who's life could be shattered in an instant.”

“But can it be shattered profitably. That's the real thing.” He heaved a sigh. The breath moved him out four feet. “You heard about the Assassin's Guild officially pulling up it's investments?”

“Thought it was just a rumor. That's bad news. But I'm in it too deep to merely leave whenever I want. That group is all profits and no spirit now. The Assassin's Quarter is still around.”

Luke Merron heaved himself around in fury. “Those pretenders?! I'd rather trust those dodgy mercenaries the Emperor of Cameo hires. You hear that that Brundt Liser's got them EscorTING refugees to that rotten Warlord? And that bean sprout of an Emperor justifies it as 'speeding the cleansing'. I was like 'what.'”

“Yeah, I was about the same. Hear it's the Empress pressing on him more than anything. I'm trying to keep major operations out of Cameo's actual borders for the time being. I hear whispers of a rebellion. And not the kind I can really profit off of.” He sat down on a rock facing the caravan. “World's changing. I don't think people like us will survive the generation. A new world...”

“What are you talking about? Sounds like you've been thinking about the wrong things. Like, not bout money and stuff. New world. Ridiculous nonsense best left to poor philosophers and artists. Call me shallow, but I've got bigger needs than this world's situation.”

“I know people. They always need cheap workers. All willing to pay money.” He stood up. Nathan Kane finally discovered what disgusted him about Luke Merron. He didn't think of the future. “And of course, you will be getting cuts. But a group like this is too big to capture at once. I guess we'll pick at them a bit though. Grab some kids and some of the younger males and females. But I'll leave most of this one alone.”

“Aww... you'd think this be right up your alley. Lotsa young and lots of them.”

“Nope. Gonna wait for the market to recover. I just added a hundred thousand to the selling table, and there's only so many I can sell wholesale right now.” This was true. The market was in a state of flux. Prices were good, but not for long. He'd have to be a bit wiser. If he sold to the mining corporations, he'd be able to stabilize the part of the market he had cornered. It defied most of the economist's expectations, but it had already worked earlier in the Utan Migration, as it was called.

“Huh. Whatever.” Luke Merron shifted himself. “I want to put a man in your operation.” Nathan Kane sighed deeply. “What was that?! Anyway. Meet Henoch the Butcher. He'll be my eyes and ears. Anything he does, consider it like I was doing it.”

Both Baez and Nathan Kale thought the same thing. “With complete disrespect. Got it.”

Henoch came into view from inside a large military vehicle. Luke Merron was hideous, but in a laughable way. Some said you could put tusks on him and he would look like a flying elephant. Henoch was out and out terrifying. The type that causes children to soil their pants and believe in both monsters in the bed and closet.

His muscles were cords that stood out individually and moved as if each had a brain. His back had several bones sticking out of it, as if there had once been a wing there, but had been ripped out with a pair of rusty pliers. Given the people he surrounded himself with, it wasn't a far cry. Henoch's headd was indescribable, only barely classified as 'humanoid'. He had no neck, and one shoulder was much larger than the other. It lead to a clawed hand that was big enough to crush torsos.

“Gentlemen, this is Henoch. He is a member of the Monster Squad of Sabbatholm. Elites, you know. Dangerous to a man. Psychotic. Bloodthirsty. Mmmm. Henoch took only a half a dose of monster mutagen. You know what that does? All the mental faculties... most mental faculties... with a major increase in power unmatched by any. He used to be a man, you know. But now he is one of Sabbatholm's perfect soldiers.”

Henoch smiled. Screams broke out from the caravan, it was that fearsome. “I gonn wokkin' wit you. Kill... Murder... Torture. I do all dat.” He reached out a hand to Nathan Kane. “Plesur. Plesur.”

“Same here. Our experiences will profit us both.” He shook the loathsome had with a smile. It's what was needed right now. As soon as he got back to his base, he would relax in the sauna and drink until he was unconscious. “I trust you are sending him as an advisory position?”

“Nope! I want him to pull his weight! He'll work as hard as any of your men.” Luke Merron tossed a sandwich to Henoch, then dragged out another for himself.

“Lovely. I'll trust him to move to the coordinates on his own.” Nathan Kale nodded to the smiling Henoch and entered a stealth air transport. He shouted back at Luke Merron. “Hey! In ten days that Green Mustard moves out! Erebus has got something for him, but I'd warn EVERYONE about him! Those Greasers and Valkyries aren't construction workers after all!”

He closed the door and sighed deeply. Henoch was something else. Somehting very terrifying. Anastas was piloting the transport. “Sir. I can say for certain that I would have trouble killing him.”

“I know. You know they worship that psycho Remeirdo Moon? Blood sacrifice and cannablism. We may be monsters, but they are monsters on another level. Like a Shade. Baez. Pass me that cooler.” He quaffed a beer in a second. He felt a little better for it, and so he relaxed for a second. “Light help me, I'm sending him on a long range mission. I'm going to send him on the way to Green Mustard. And if humanity's lucky, he'll die.”

Anastas did her best to shrug without changing the course of the transport. “Sounds like a tall order.”

Intermission 3

Communication is important to every war effort. Millennia ago, runners on horses were the best money had to offer. This method was slow and costly. The enemy could easily intercept and capture secret communications. Obviously, this would screw up the entire army's plan. Billions of deaths and the collapse of entire countries could be traced to the enemy capturing information.

Indeed, while food, cloths and weapons is entirely connected to an army's success, all the preparation and arms in the world cannot save you if the enemy knows your every move. During the Column Era thousands of generations ago, the rebellious city of Heatherguard was utterly ruined because of this. Ironically, the message intercepted was an order to the commander of the siege of Heatherguard to spare the city.

When electricity was discovered during the Column Wars, much rejoicing took place. Then a great deal of confusion took place. The cables and radio waves were fickle things. Radio waves was found to be easily disrupted and also useless in the mountainous regions of Narthus and Sabbatholm, and Arcadia had such strange interference that occasionally a listener would go mad. And no one wanted to lay billions of miles of cables, even in their own nation during such a destructive war.

Electricity was considered worthless to the nations above, and technology, despite early interest, eventually stagnated. Electricity instead turned to transportation and common life. Since electricity was a no show for telecommunications, scientists turned to the gemstones for an answer. Gem cartridges were already the leading technology in weapons and locomotion, after all.

Diamonds were the first to be turned to the problem. One man, W. B. Morck, used a code to communicate over long distances. For a year, his 'Morck's Code' ruled. Then there was an incident involving the incineration of an important figure due to an apparatus set to high. Military still uses Morck's code for quick and simple ship to ship communication.

Then there was a long series of failures, some more amusing than others. There was the 'Ruby smokestack', a funnel that sent up flames according to Morck's Code. Another one was an unnamed invention based on the sapphire's ice powers. In it's first public demonstration, the message created missed the target and buried the inventor under several hundred pounds of ice. The next attempt took down an experimental airship costing billions.

Finally, they turned to the more innocent quartz crystals. Resonance had already been discovered, but never applied to anything other than the boosting of gem's powers. A Ruby Gem Cartridge and a Quartz Cartridge put in sequence strengthened the powers of the flames. A series of experiments proved that quartz vibrations could be controlled and then set up so that certain other quartz would mimic it.

Eventually, the Column William Colton discovered ways to use this information to create Quartz Gem Cartridges that were all connected to each other. Because the people had used up the good ACRONYMs with more useless things, they were simply called 'Communication Gems'. Colton won the Column Wars, on part because of superior communication between his officers.

The next evolution of communication came in the discovery of Quartz resonance with the Linear Train System created during the Column Era. As a side effect of the materials used in the rails, Quartz was found to be very reactive to it. Because early attempts often ended in the destruction of the monitoring equipment, it was called the Meltdown Resonance Network. Iroha Universal was the first to truly take advantage of it, first creating a 'wired' access that anyone could use.

Communication boomed, as did trade. Money no longer needed to be kept in local vaults, and could be invested near instantly in near anything you wanted to. Over night entire economies revolutionized. Countries became more centralized. And Armies moved about without fear of their enemy seeing their communication.

The second revolution of the technology was wireless. This was actually a mix of modern parts and artifacts to form the first Xaio Sphere, named after the Camean engineer Lu Bien's daughter. Xaio spheres were very versatile, capable of both long distance communication and giant Xaio spheres could even increase the range of the Meltdown Resonance Network. The military immediately embraced this technology to the uttermost.

Every capital ship in every fleet had multiple giant Xaio spheres inserted into them. Every other ship had multiple smaller ones. Military communication was revolutionized and became it's modern, near instant form. Admirals could give orders to underlings instantly. Strategy reached a new form. Instead of 'turn by turn' book moves more resembling chess than anything else, ship to ship combat became fluid and fast. The Battle of Kelvar Dardin was the first.

During the Second Faceless War military leaders planned a massive air and land assault on Kelvar Dardin, which was being used as a launching point in the Faceless invasion of Carnelia. Fifteen Grand Admirals, each with their entire complement of officers, ships and Air marines that numbered in the millions. It was such a highly successful attack that Azrael the Putrid was driven back into Sabbatholm and never recovered his former strength. The success of the attack is not based on the numbers involved, but on the order communication brought them.

In the modern era, communication again became the byword of war. This time, it wasn't grand fleet tactics, but in the resistances that fought against the Estellion Sky Empire's dominance of the lands. The Estellion Sky Empire did not have the luxuries of the communication advances that their enemies have. They depended on the more archaic radio broadcasting systems based from their Sky Islands.

Estellion, under the direction of the Apex Victoria Lilty, was truly unified with the Imperial Communication System, named to match the Imperial Forge Works. Sky Islands, requiring mail carriers that could take a month to span the Empire, could now communicate faster than ever. It did not cause the same uproar that the lower Midworld system did, but now they all felt like the Empire was more than the person who took their money every year.

The System depended on the strange magnetic forces that were discovered as being tied to the massive crystals that kept the sky islands afloat. The second generation involved the discovery of a vault of Lost Technology in Londinium, former capital of the empire of the same name. Due to the age of the vault, the documents had disintegrated. It was discovered that they were actually amplifiers and magnetic '' of sorts.

The crystals sent out a magnetic field, among differing lines per Sky Island. Using the magnetic sinks, they were able to extend the range of their communication technologies beyond the massive series of relays that had been made. They were able to bounce between Sky Islands at a greater rate, though certain transfers still required communication relays.

They combined the technologies together to create the modern Imperial Communication System. It was capable of massive transfers of communication, and led directly to Estellion developing computer systems beyond mere radio systems. When they began their spying campaign on the Midworld, one of the technologies they stole was their advanced computer tactical systems. Like the Midworld, they combined the two into the most advanced Fleet Tactical Control System ever created, far exceeding anything the Midworld had.

The Estellion invasion of the Midworld went remarkably well. Until some college students got their hands on the old radio disruption technology housed in the Karstic University's basement. With a little modification, they were able to even hack into the enemy's communications, and then gave this information to their nation's military.

Chapter 12

Brutander Liser wasn't quite a sociopath. He didn't enjoy hurting people, or causing pain. He did enjoy power. He could appreciate things of delicacy, like high literature and the tea ceremony. He just didn't have the patience. He liked running around and fighting people. It was what got him kicked out of the world renowned Camean Royal Academy.

He got kicked out after he beat up the heir of Jaedinar's House Briscolletti. The main issue isn't that he fought, after all, worse had been done there, it was that House Briscolletti were main allies of the Emperor. The Emperor had called him in privately, chewed him out briefly, then asked about the look on the Briscolletti's scion's face.

Something like that changes one's opinion of the world. Powers that be chew him out for beating up another power... But wait! They're laughing over it. Brutander was not a complicated person. It took him awhile, but he figured it out. It wasn't so much that he beat up someone. It was that he beat up someone important!

He was put under the tutelage of master Hiram, a swordsman known for his aggression. He survived with only a few scars and came out a wiser man. Wiser was stretching it. But he was more of the man. His best scar was one that came up diagonally across his cheek. Lay Zeto said it made him look tougher. He guessed that was when he joined his father in being loyal to her.

So when she asked him to escort the last of the refugees from the northeast province of Hu-Hyu? He jumped at the call. It was one of those things. A good opportunity for heroics, excellent chance to fight somebody... It wasn't a dream assignment, but darn if it was close to one. His father had even pulled some strings to get his group mobile armors to use.

He also had heard rumors that Lay Zeto and his parents were planning to arrange a marriage with a member of another house. Who it was he didn't know, yet. But he was sure it was happening. He figured he'd do exemplary on this mission. He'd get some great pictures of him helping people out. He'd, he didn't know, get some recognition from the Emperor. “Man who kicked the last of the Utan from the northeast provinces.” Oh yeah. That was street cred for nobility right there.

For now he was organizing the last of the refugee supplies. He didn't have any particular racist ideologies, Hiram was an elf and could beat the tar out of him daily. He did, however, made it well known that he would not abide lollygagging. Despite them facing persecution and worse, they did not want to leave their homes.

He regretted beating up a bunch of those wolf Utan, but it was unavoidable. They had put up a resistance. He didn't kill anyone, but tossed them around and shook them up. It was how you dealt with recalcitrant Wolf Utan. Establish yourself as Alpha, then they'll at least give you respect. The rest fell in line after they were defeated.

His 'second' a young noble much like himself, Jen Uloi. “Brut' were ready to go. All hands aboard. I've got Xiaoping with the Scarecrow attached to the roof and Li with the Tin Man in the back. The last of us are loading the supplies with some of the strong ones. We ready?”

Brutander nodded. “Just need to double check with home base. Take these. Grains mostly.” Jen obligingly brought out a long range Xaio Sphere. “This is Alpha dog calling in Papa Wolf. These Call signs are stupid. Over.”

“This is Papa Wolf. You have no say in the matter. Over.”

“Alpha dog and pack is ready to move out. Over.”

“And no one died?”

“Father! Please confirm we are situation green. Over.”

“Situation yellow. Be advised that a band of Punks has been seen roving. Have dispatched two mobile mercenary squads along the line. Code X-Lay. Over.”

“Thank you Papa Wolf, we are advised. If the mercenaries have not made contact advise them to begin escort at point Puppy thirteen. Over.”

“Light Speed, Alpha Wolf.”

“Light protect us, Papa Wolf.”

He shut off the Xaio Sphere. “Jen, have the rest of this stuff taken aboard. Also, pass along the information. I'll be around to Li and Xiaoping before we go. I'm going to go over the route with the train driver one more time. ”

“Sure, Brut'. I'll send a runner when you're ready.”

Brutander walked out towards the train. The Linear Rail System could take them all the way to Arcadia within a week, full speed. An entire continent traveled on thousand year old technology, it wasn't something he was good at understanding. The Warlord with the One Eye's domain was their destination.

He wasn't a military genius. He was smarter than your average mook soldier, but goodness knows he could not hold his own in a chess game. He was good warrior and he was a half-way decent leader, but he depended on underlings like Jen, Li and Xiaoping far more than was comfortable.

Li was the first person he met. “Hey Brute, when are we leaving?” She was in a Tin Man from Kill Industries Limited Licenses product. Dependable and easily modifiable but couldn't fight in hand to hand confrontation. It was given a small buckler to block non-explosive weapons. It's main armament was a large caliber gem cartridge rifle, capable of accurate fire. It also was equipped with a suitable sized Diamond Cartridge laser Gatling gun.

“Soon. Jen just has a more foodstuffs to get loaded. Punks and slavers have been spotted, but my dad's mercenaries are trying to intercept.”

“Mmmm. Well, I hope that we get to fight. First time in a Mobile Armor and I don't get to fight anyone.” She tried to scratch at her head, forgetting the foot of metal and electronics between her head and the hand. “I do hate the itches though.” Li was a morbid character, and could often be found read dark and depressing novels by candle light. Candle light 'heightened the mood' according to her.

“I'm sure your future fiancee will appreciate your hobbies.”

He walked off, not disturbed at all. Li was part of the 'old gang' from the Camean Royal Academy. He led the group, who's officers were Li, Xiao and Jen. They were the top delinquents in the school, something which was a source of pride for Brundt. They weren't just delinquents, they were THE delinquents!

Xiaoping was latching himself to the middle-most train car. “How's it going? You ready?”

Xiaoping was inside a Scarecrow. It was another K.I.L.L. product. It had short range cartridge rifles on the shoulders. The rest of the armaments were its claws, speed and appearance. The Scarecrow was long and gangly. It had blood red teeth that shined in either the sun or the moon. It's claws were strong and cruel, capable of cutting a man in half. It's legs were designed for kicking and jumping, and it was said that kick wounds were indistinguishable from explosive damage. A weapon of fear, Xiaoping was the obvious choice to use it.

“Be aware of slavers coming in on our location.” He helped him tie a foot to the window. He could feel a mixture of resentment and fear coming in from the train cars. It was directly mostly to him. “Some mercenaries are going to assist us.”

“What? Really? But we've got... well... us.”

“I know man, but my father, you know him. No kill like over kill.”

“Whatever, it's a waste of their time.”

A signal flare rose from the baggage portion of the train. Jen was ready. “Alright. We're getting going within the hour.”

“Peace.”

He arrived at the driving car. He had to push through hordes of Utan to get there. They were in various states of sleeping, talking or fighting. Some of the Wolf and Dog Utan were having some sort of prize fight, more for fun than money. Those he knocked around and made look outs.

The driver of the train was a very old man, Grover De le Ware. He was a chauffeur of the Lisers. He had driven Airships, limousines and ships. Supposedly, he was an airship fighter pilot during the Sixth Faceless War and served throughout the Skylord Era. That was possible. He was certainly old enough.

He was a raisin of a man. He was one of the darkest men Brutander knew. He never bathed either, he feared that the wrinkles would eventually get so bad that he couldn't see. Instead he used damp towels and liberal amounts of cologne. It wasn't bad to smell, but it was unnerving. Brutander knew what death smelled like, and there was a small hint of it with him.

“Well, if it isn't young Brutander! I'd been worried about you. Haven't heard from you in a while. How have you been?”

“Fine gramps. Can we get this thing moving?”

“I suppose. Twas getting too comfortable anyway. Too much comfort is death you know.” He started flipping switches in sequences. He then turned on a loudspeaker. “All hands! All aboard! All aboard!”

Brutander flipped open a short range Xiao Sphere. “Brutander to Jen. Brutander to Jen. Everything ready?”

“Yessir. All hands aboard. All goods aboard. We are ready to go.”

“Alright. Gramps, full speed ahead!”

He pulled a lever and the Linear Train lurched forward. “I half wanted you to yell 'RAMMING SPEED!' like when you were younger. Heh heh. One time I got so heated up I actually rammed something. Those were good times.”

“DANGIT GRAMPS! You left the loudspeaker on!” Laughter came through his short range Xiao Sphere. He'd have to bust some heads to reassert dominance later. “Jen, Li, Xiao. We'll talk later.” Groans came out from the sphere. That was better.