6 - Azrael Reaps
“Uhhh, sir? We um… Seem to have moved. To uh, a place with purple water… And a pink sky. Sir? Can I be relieved of duty? I think I've been drugged.”
“If you have, then so I have I, Mister Blake. Switch off that egghead’s gizmo.”
“No effect, sir.”
“Get the Admiral on the line, he’ll want to know about this hallucination immediately.”
“Uh, sir? My compass is pointing east.”
“What?”
“My compass is pointing east. We were facing north, now the needle is pointing east. And the sun’s at a different- Uh, forget the sun. There’s two moons.”
“Well, shit.”
- Captain Van Allen, USS Eldridge - Drakehand Bay, Mar’rath - October 28, 1943
Lyra Heartstrings - Day 1
The Dark Fortress - Wieav
Lyra’s footsteps furiously thudded against the stairs as she took them two at a time. Her aching body cried out in distress, each frantic movement deepening the cracks in her bones.
I don’t think I’ve ever been hurt this bad, she observed silently as she rounded the corner and exited the stairs into the third floor hallway. Not on the job at least. I miss regeneration.
The keep appeared almost alien with the lights on. The dim gray stonework and maze-like corridors had been frightening, but were easily understood by someone with experience in navigating ancient ruins.
The lights transformed this ruin into a normal place. One she had never been to before. The little details such as the vinework carved into the walls made the passages Lyra had begun to mentally map out feel alien once more.
She said her room was on the third floor. But is it on the right or the left? Lyra asked herself in desperation as she started to run to each door and quickly poke her head inside.
Her every motion was born of panic distilled through her sense of duty into pure energy. The details of her search had no chance to stick in her mind. A door would open, there would be no fae nest within whatever room she happened to look into, and so Lyra would move on, never truly seeing inside the rooms.
A foolish strategy perhaps, but an understandable one given the situation at hand.
Sky briefed us on nuclear weapons when Phoenix started to build them. Lyra remembered as she began to reach the end of the hallway. I thought the point of having them was you never use them. It’s like the ultimate threat. Attack us and none of you will survive. Our last act will be to end your entire nation.
Evil things… But admittedly necessary for a tiny country to protect itself from big ones. Or from threats from space. Besides, Equestria has five Alicorns protecting her. We could unleash way worse evil. If we wanted.
You can’t hold it against a tiny industrial powerhouse which keeps pissing off the griffons to want a way to even the odds. Even Sky’s tech wouldn’t hold off millions upon millions. I can see the griffons deciding they want that super science for themselves… Peace just isn’t free, sadly. At least threats are a better price for it than all out war.
Lyra began to run for the last two rooms in the hallway, her mental clock ticking away the few remaining seconds of safety. Orchid had to be in one of the two rooms. If she wasn’t there, there wouldn't be time to get away.
Sky always said he’d never show us one go off. We’d have to be okay with watching video of past detonations. Because if he blew one up, everyone half a country over would be poisoned and a city sized area would be uninhabitable for decades.
These guys have to know what those bombs do. They built them. They put them into launchers on their subs. They shot twenty at us. Twenty “All is lost, take them with us so no more shall suffer their wrath.” bombs. What did Hatty do to them?
Lyra threw the left hand door open wide. Her eyes scanned the room, noting a distinct lack of anything like a nest and immediately leaving the doorway. She spun on her heel, losing her balance and falling over as her damaged hip simply couldn’t take her full weight.
Ponyfeathers! I just had to want an escape from my normal life, didn’t I? She moaned. I’m a sniper, why did I pick a melee class? I didn't even go rogue like I normally play… Maybe Hatty is right.
That thought sat in her mind for exactly one tenth of a second. The buck he is, Lyra. This is a new challenge. Overcome it! Let’s do this!
Lyra scrambled upwards, moving across the hall before she had properly stop, back up, and throw the last door open. She didn’t need to look around to find a nest.
The entirety of the large bedroom had been completely transformed by Orchid’s ancestors. Rich black soil had been brought into the room and used to terraform the stone box into a lush hilly valley covered in neatly trimmed grass. Plants grew in the room thanks to the special lense which replaced the window’s glass, allowing the sun’s warmth to flood the entire room.
Miniature trees were planted everywhere, some even growing tiny fruit. A doll-sized barn sat at the base of a hill where fae drones tended to a herd of shrews. A water pipe in the wall had been cut into, allowing a itty bitty river to flow through the valley along clay banks and then drain into a lake complete with a water treatment plant.
Small lumps of magical stones had been stuck to the ceiling, creating a night sky. Hidden amongst the pale glowing chips of a light-stone were silver and copper medallions. Once tools in a spy’s arsenal, the magical tokens now created a number of tiny smokescreens, simulating clouds or playing quiet sounds of nature.
Birdsong, distant rainfall, the chirping of crickets. These sounds poured from the room the moment the door had been wrenched open.
Lyra stood at the edge of the room-sized mountain-valley, so stunned by her discovery she briefly forgot about the incoming doomsday barrage which even now plunged down through the stratosphere.
T-there’s even a little town! Lyra stammered mentally as her gold eyes locked onto the hundred or so miniature dollhouses arranged in the valley’s center.
There was a post office, and a fire house, and a little general store. A schoolhouse, a library, and a town square complete with a clock tower, fountains and a “big” pine tree as the centerpiece. The swarm of Fae walked along the town’s sandy streets, performing minor maintenance on buildings, and otherwise maintaining the town but never once interacting with one another.
Like an estranged stallion’s model train set, the only missing feature of the fae nest was people truly living within it.
This is what Neighpone’s kaiju feel like. How can they bring themselves to smash cities?! Lyra asked herself as her eyes took in the countless tiny oil lamps set atop toothpicks to form street lamps. Are tiny things disgusting to them?
Lyra didn’t notice as one of the house’s doors creaked open and a pink ball of light sleepily flew out from the Victorian styled townhouse. Orchid made it up to Lyra’s eye level before the minty mare snapped out of her incredulous marveling.
“Hey… So… I need two things,” Orchid asked with a yawn far too adorable for someone who insisted on being a tough warrior. “I need you to brew me a you sized mug of coffee, cuz I’m not gonna get back to sleep. I also need you to open the door WAY less fast from now on. The wind that makes is really really loud for someone my size.”
Lyra shook her head once to fully clear her mind. “We need to get to the basement now! Those goblin’s friends just launched nukes!” Lyra warned.
The sleepy fae frowned. She’d never left the fortress, nor had any of her ancestors within her swarms’ memory.
“What’s a nuke?” She asked, rubbing her eyes with her hands in a vain attempt to dislodge the sleep trapped within her eyelids.
“Big, terrifying, city-destroying bombs!” Lyra warned urgently. “We have like, a minute left! NaN says there’s a chance we can survive down there.”
Orchid’s eyes peeled open properly. “Come again?” she asked.
“This whole place is going to be flattened! We need to go!” Lyra shouted, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the hallway.
The sleepy fae turned around, looking at her “hive” for a short moment before simply shaking her head. “Lyra, the fort’s walls are thicker than you are tall. We’re fine.”
Lyra’s jaw dropped at Orchid’s display of shocking naive. “I- but-”
“Goblins throw bombs at me all the time. Those things never do anything to the walls. If they are throwing from outside, we’re fine,” Orchid continued, fluttering down towards her house.
“A ME SIZED CITY, YOU IDIOT!” Lyra shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Wait, what?” Orchid asked, turning back around.
“We’re being shelled, with bombs, big enough, to destroy a whole city, made for people MY size,” Lyra clarified.
Orchid’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she came to understand the immediate danger. Then she grinned ear to ear.
“That sounds awesome!” Orchid said happily.
... Can’t tell if stupid, or just likes explosions. Lyra silently groaned. “I can’t grab you and run without crushing you. Move it!”
Orchid nodded and waved Lyra down the hall. “Go! I’ll be right behind you. I need to get-”
“WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO PACK VALUABLES!” Lyra shouted, her left eye starting to twitch.
“I’m getting mission critical equipment!” Orchid explained as she flew back into her hive.
While the two had been speaking, a large percentage of Orchid’s swarm had cleared the ground in front of the room’s closet door, and pried the “colossal” oak slab open to reveal a wooden gantry constructed from random bits of driftwood and old tree branches.
Supported by the wooden structure was the single most intelligent creation of all time.
The golem stood two feet tall. Most of its skin was made from the assorted segments of sixteen different suits of armor stitched together with scrap thread made from loose cloth fibers. One patch might be thick leather, it’s neighbor might be chainmail, and it’s neighbor’s neighbor could very well be a piece of brigandine.
Pieces of household objects made up larger portions. The face seemed to have been made from a bronze statue, but had been battered so much to make it fit with the rest of the skull you couldn’t tell the sex of the statue’s original subject. What’s more the eyes had been cut out and replaced with chunks of crystal, and the creation had been given a faux-hawk using feathers from four differently colored feather dusters.
Orchid raced towards the Random Crap I Found Around the House Golum, heading right towards a small open hatch on the chest.
“We don’t have time to start up anything! We need to run!” Lyra urged.
“It won't take long! NaN showed me how Numerican Marine’s armor works. I just need to give it a little psionic juice and-”
Lyra groaned and facepalmed. “Why is this important to you?”
“I can’t ever make another one! I may need a larger body to help our master!” Orchid shot back.
Unwilling to argue with the fairy, Lyra stepped into the room, carefully avoiding stepping on anything or anyone, and ripped the golem away from its moorings. It was much heavier than she expected. A sharp and wet crack followed by an agonized scream nearly deafened Orchid as one of Lyra’s ribs shattered under the stress.
Lyra closed her eyes, blocking out the pain as she shouldered the massively heavy miniature mecha and began to firestallion carry it out of the room, pain significantly slowing her steps.
Orchid gasped and raced along after Lyra, her swarm following as one.
“I’m so sorry!” She apologised. “I’m not very alert when woken up, I didn’t notice you were wounded. I’ll fix you up! I just need three minutes.”
“You… Can heal?” Lyra groaned, staggering back down the hallway, her eyes intently focused on the stairs.
“Yes! Any swarm of my size could heal you.” Orchid said worriedly. “If we get the chance.”
They reached the stairs before Lyra decided to reply. “I haven’t been hurt like this in… In a long time. Back home, in my real body, I would have healed from a beating like that in minutes,” Lyra said convercationaly, using her words to distract from the pain burning along her side.
“What happened?” Orchid asked as they began to spiral down the stairs.
“You missed a goblin. I got him though,” Lyra grunted as the shock of a particularly hard footfall sent a shooting pain up her side.
First chance, get some real armor. Kobold hide may be tough but I think something inside…
“Oh,” Orchid said sadly, losing a bit of altitude as she realized the danger was her fault. “He called for help and now they’re-”
Her words were lost as the world was consumed with a light so bright the sun seemed like a candle.
The Dark Fortress - Day 1
Stonerake Island - Wieve
Twenty warheads fell from the heavens and transformed the moonless night into day. A hundred miles east, Landfall Isle was the first to know of the explosion. The town guards on the western side of Noma who were unfortunate enough have been looking out to sea were struck blind by the firestorm. Everyone in town with a west facing bedroom window woke from the impossible flash just in time to see every piece of glass in town shatter.
Even further away from the manmade star, on the mainland, the entirety of the port city of Tulwar lept from their beds in fright as the world’s loudest thunderclap sent the city into a panic. The bombardment’s shockwave battered the port’s sea walls with immense waves. The few ships leaving or entering the port at the late hour were dashed against the brick sea walls or capsized.
High in the air above the sea, the blast’s winds ripped at the cloth-skinned airships carrying Fort Helm’s soldiers towards the center of the temporary sun. No one in living memory had seen a nuclear blast, and that statement remained true. Every soul within the fleet dared not look upon the hell before them, choosing instead to hunker down and beg their patron deity for forgiveness as they were caught in the storm.
A storm which swept Stonerake Island into the annals of history.
The warheads exploded in the air, allowing the full force of their combined blasts to hammer the fortress below using the isle itself as an anvil. The fortress, its island, and the lake around it vanished inside a ball of flame hotter than the core of the stars themselves.
The lake evaporated instantly.
Everything on the lakeshore vaporized. Every plant. Every animal. Every scrap of stone within the fireball. Gone.
Everything on the island unfortunate enough to not have been inside the man-made hellfire burst into flame.
But only for the tiny fraction of an instant before winds more powerful than anything in nature’s arsenal pulverized the island, blasting everything other than the bedrock to dust and scattering it all to the winds.
The once lush island was now a bare lump of stone protruding from the sea. The lake had become a crater three times as deep as the former lake. In a few days, a week at most, the sea’s relentless waves would smash aside the nearly annihilated seawall, and a new bay would be born.
In the coming weeks every nation to the east would experience black rain. Clerics around the world would deal with a spike in birth defects this year, and many more cases of cancer in the coming decades.
Yet the true horror was this: Every mother cradling her deformed child, every untreated person dying from fallout induced cancer, every last person struck blind, they all knew of The Blight in the west. Only the most selfish them wouldn’t be happy with the price they paid to stop its creator.
Five hundred meters below the sea, near the blast epicenter, the Sea Dragon rocked and swayed as the submersible weathered the storm, it’s psionic shields and the shear mass of water between the starburst and her hull resulting in only a few bumps and bruises for careless members of her crew who refused to brace for impact.
The submersible slowly rose upwards, even as the blast wave shook the ship. She rose to just below the surface and set sail for the shoreline, moving towards the aftermath of the hell she had created.
The journey was short, even with the Sea Dragons ageing engines, and a mere three minutes after the island ceased to be, the order was given.
“Up periscope,” Captain Harrel ordered calmly as he stood up to inspect the carnage.
With the flip of a switch, the Sea Dragon’s eye raised above the surface, and turned towards the crater.
Captain Harrel peered into the scope, turning it left and right to survey the devastated area. Not a scrap of life remained on the island, just as expected. Stonerake had become a place of the dead, without a living thing upon it. Nor was the fortress sitting on it’s small isle amid the lake.
The fortress hovered mid air, its ancient arcane engines keeping the entire islet the fortress was built atop aloft. Or at least, bairly aloft. The flying fortress swayed in the air, more than a little unsteady as she listed to one side and rotated slowly counterclockwise.
Her shield was visible as a crackling pale green orb which spat the ocasional bolt of lightning. The universal sign of a shield generator on it’s last circuit screaming out for a mother it didn’t have.
“She’s airborn,” the Captain reported to his crew with horror. “If you ever wanted proof that Command agreeing to lower our nukes yields was a bad idea, here it is.”
Then the Captain’s eyes found something which brought hope back into his world.
A massive jagged looking patch of shield near the top sparked and flickered maddeningly. A weak spot, perhaps even a breach where a direct hit had thoroughly disintegrated at least one shield emitter.
“Gentlemen, we have scored a direct hit,” the Captain announced the moment the breach entered his field of vision. “With some luck, the fireball leaked inside, or the gamma pulse will have scoured the fortress.”
Captain Harrel was not a man to let luck speak, not when the enemy fortification still stood.
And stand the fortress did. The crackling shield made it next to impossible to see the extent of any damages, but at the moment that was not important.
The Dark Fortress had been hit with more than twice the warheads which had at last breached her shields a hundred years ago. Yet she stood. Every last soldier on the Dragon’s bridge felt an intense wave of hatred deep within their hearts, directed at long dead diplomats who had negotiated certain treaties just now unintentionaly doomed the world.
Not just the reduction of their nuclear arsenal, but also the ones prohibiting fielding Marines on foreign soil without express permission months in advance.
“It’s a good thing we’ll never go to war with the Dragons,” the navigator murmured nervously. “Imagine if that place’s shield weren’t six thousand years old…”
“Never say never. It could happen,” the tactical officer disagreed grimly.
Captain Harrel stepped away from the periscope. “I’m afraid that Mister Johnson is correct, Mister Brown. We will never go to war with the Dragons. It would be more along the lines of pest control.
“That being said, this ancient Ranger Station is only slightly more advanced than the Sea Dragon. It can be breached. It can be destroyed using our weapons, and destroy it we shall.”
Mister Brown cleared his throat. “Will all due respect, Captain, I doubt we can do much to it with it still standing after a Full Strike. Not with this ship being as old as she is. I recommend we observe until reinforcements arrive then provide assistance with whatever arcane weapons they will field. The spiders should be along soon, and the fortress isn't returning fire. I believe we have time.”
Captain Harrel nodded and begun walking back to his chair. “I agree, Mister Brown. However I want to see if our secondary guns can take that shield fully down. That generator is on its last legs.
“Helm: Bring us to the surface and transition to attack mode. We will bombard the fortress with our secondary guns until the Rider and his knights arrive.
“Miss Thompson, request our allies reroute an airship to help us deploy some Marines, and make sure our best Assault Marines are ready to deploy as soon as the spiders can get an airship to us.”
“Aye, sir!” The communications officer answered, immediately getting to work.
The Captain sat back down and closed his eyes sadly. “Charlot,” he said quietly, looking off into the distance. “I’m afraid you’ll have to try and bring the main gun online. We’ll need it now that our silos are empty.”
The ship’s Poltergeist was silent for several minutes. Not because she was following orders, rather because she was afraid.
“I don't think we can fire it without me exploding, sir,” she answered at last.
“Would we get off a shot?” Captain Harrel asked her calmly.
“I think so.”
“Then do it. I’m certain everyone aboard would rather die than see a nation transformed into more Blightlands,” the Captain said while letting his eyes roam across the fifteen crewmen on his bridge.
Not a one of them objected.
Dragon Riders are a rather unconventional lot. If asked, most people without a military background would say the Riders are akin to a knight order, with the Dragon clearly acting as a knight errant to prove their worth to their eignamatic kin while their Rider is a humble squire, attending to the dragon’s needs.
This is entirely untrue.
Those with a military background, especially officers, would politely correct you on the matter, saying the pair are a police force. Equal partners with the non-dragon serving as an expert in the ways of the more primitive species living outside the dragons homeland. Some might let it slip that their service as mercenaries can be purchased through Weive’s military.
This is only mostly untrue.
To the non-dragons who enlisted in the Riders as a cadet, the opportunity of a lifetime awaited. The great honor of working alongside a Dragon to bring peace and safety to all the world was something most people could only dream of. Especially since the true test of a Rider was one of character, not of strength.
The non-dragon in the pair had to be a hero with a heart of gold. The cream of the crop, for courage. As well as capable enough to be trained as a skilled warrior.
According to the official documents, only one in ten thousand initiates passed the Council’s judgment and were admitted as full riders.
One would expect the dragons to be similarly vetted. Not so. For the dragon in a Rider team was a failure. Someone who flunked out of Ranger training, but allowed to take on less serious work helping to maintain relations with their world’s primitives by serving them.
Like most dragons within the Riders, Zorgoth the Shadowscale had long since made his peace and even found a measure of honor in his work.
Zorg was a fairly runty dragon, short in height and length and quite thin as well as being very narrow and angular. In all, he stood about as high as a large horse, and counting his tail was only twice as long. Such a build would have allowed him to be a very stealthy Ranger, if it didn’t also make him a very slow flier due to his little wings.
His scales were a dark black, dark and glossy enough to be highly reflective and hide nearly every one of the features unique to Mar’rathian dragons. The black coloring had to be some form of mutation, covering him scale, fang, claw, and flesh. His flesh, both carbon and silicone based, it was all black.
Even his wing membranes were too dark to see the tessellating patterns of the natural solar cells which lay beneath his skin.
His eyes too were black, not that mere color could mask the uniqueness of his people’s eyes. The wet granite colored orbs were ringed in concentric circles of glowing light, yellow in Zorg’s case, the ever shifting and rotating circles screamed ‘cybernetics’, especially when the ocasional fleck of a HUD element popped up in them.
Yet they were natural. All Dragon’s eyes were
Amusingly enough, Jago matched his partner. The Kobold was also small, very short, lithe, and nearly monochromatic, being almost entirely platinum gray with only yellow eyes and tiny black horns to provide any sort of accent.
One would expect the kobold to dress in colors which complemented his hide. Unfortunately for people who believed in the importance of fashion, Jago’s clothing, platemail, and tabard were all his favorite color. White. The only color given to his ensemble was the red and gold the Rider’s coat of arms on his pauldrons.
The two were almost entirely certain the Council paired them simply because Maru the Colossus thought it would be adorable to make the tiny white kobold ride the tiny black dragon.
And ride he did. Better than most Riders, in fact. While Zargoth was slow for a dragon, Jago weighed next to nothing, and thus slowed his partner down not at all.
The two flew ahead of the Wevian fleet, having decided to scout ground zero themselves before the men under their command could even get near to the Dark Fortress. Fort Helm wasn’t a very important military outpost, the small fleet maintained there held only older ships. They hadn't a prayer of keeping up even a slow dragon like Zorg.
A very good thing when you were uncertain if the landing zone was a radioactive hell or not.
<How strong do I need to make the repulsion field again?> Jago asked telepathically, grateful as always for the magics granted to them by their bond allowing clear communication despite the wind roaring past their ears and the loud creak of his leather saddle.
<Strong as you can. These weapons mimic a Circle of Death spell. The effect may be gone by now, or it may remain. It’s not guaranteed to last for more than a few moments,> Zago answered.
Jago nodded and closed his eyes, centering himself and quickly layering the extra ward atop their usual beefy protections. He slumped slightly, the effort taxing him more than he’d ever admit.
<I can see the fortress,> Zago announced just as jago reopened his eyes.
<Show me,> the kobold said, closing his eyes again and reaching out to his partner through their soul link.
Zargoth reached back, and his friend instantly saw the world through his eyes.
The Dark Fortress filled the Dragon’s view. It sat in the air above the skeletal remains of Stonereake Isle, surrounded by the crackling opaque green shield and slowly drifting, like a wounded animal.
<That shield’s bleeding mana,> Jago observed, wincing as he watched the arcane energy swirling across its surface. <Wasn’t that fort built atop one of your people’s forts? Shouldn’t it be a tech-shield?>
<Yes. It really shouldn’t be doing that,> Zargoth agreed wearily. <I don’t like this. We stopped making those kinds of shields because of the… Poor way they interact with magic unless carefully tuned. If the shield is disrupted anymore it may explode.>
<Oh! We could bombard the fortress from a safe distance and->
<Blow a hole into to amuul and flood the world with demons?> The dragon interrupted. <There’s a very good chance that’s exactly what will happen if we violently collapse that bubble.>
Jago frowned, uncertain as to the meaning of the draconic word though the message was quite clear. He continued to study the damaged shield, searching for any safe way to breach it. Like all Riders, he was trained in the use of magic. Unfortunately, this felt like a problem for a proper wizard.
<There’s that unstable patch near the top. It looks like the shield is flicking on and off-> Jago began.
Zargoth’s eyes flicked right as he noticed a black shape in the water. WIthout the moons in the sky even draconic eyes could only see the Sea Dragon as a dark rectangular blotch on the surface of the sea. A dark blotch which was slowly changing shape as recessed gun turrets were raised into position.
<Jagoi! The Tainted are about to bombard the fortress! Stop them!> The dragon urged.
Jago groaned internally by reflex, once again wishing that his partner didn’t know about certain elements of Kobold society. Specifically, the extreme rarity of male kobold warriors.
<Stop calling me a girl, Zar,> Jago grumbled as he took the portable radio out of his saddlebag and switched it on.
“Rider Jago to the Sea Dragon: Abort bombardment, repeat abort bombardment! The fort’s shields are highly unstable and could open a Voidgate if collapsed., he called loudly, hoping his voice would carry over the wind.
A few long moments passed. Zargoth stared at the ship, eyes locked on the turrets, dreading the violet beam of psionic energy which could doom them all.
“We hear you Rider,” the radio crackled, Miss Thompson’s voice nearly lost to the winds. “The Captain wishes to speak with you. Standby.”
Jago nodded, blushed as he realized he forgot the Numerican’s toys didn’t send pictures yet again, then waited.
“Rider?” Captain Harrel asked over the radio. “Are you there?”
“I am. We’re scouting the Fortress, roughly a thousand yards above and to the east. Do not fire on the fortress! It’s shields are reacting to the local magic in a very bad way. We can’t bring them down violently,” he warned.
“Yes, so I’ve been told. What exactly is a Voidgate? We’re not quite familiar with arcane terminology,” the Captain understated.
<Their word for it is a psiportal,> Zargoth reminded.
<Why do they put psi in front of everything?! Yeah, they are psions. We get it,> Jago grumbled silently. “I believe you call them psiportals. You know, gaping holes into the void from which demons like to spew out? One of those.”
“Ah,” Harrel said calmly. “Let’s not do that.”
“Yes. Let’s not,” Jago agreed with a relieved sigh.
“Unfortunately, this means we will need to find another way inside the Fortress. My orders state it must be swept and cleared if it continues to stand after the Full Strike. What’s more, I’d do that anyways. This is… Personal,” the Captain admitted.
Jago nodded, his mind flashing back to the three months he and Zargoth had spent attempting to retrieve a lost ambassador from a town swallowed by the Blight.
The fleshy ooze which replaced the ground and grew out until it neared water. The grotesque horrors which grew from the living ooze like plants, only to break free and hunt down anything with a pulse like an apex predator. The distinct feeling that the Blight and it’s Spawn were all the same organism, working together to feed on your flesh and soul.
The fact that not even the gods could destroy the Blight. Just how much money and men did it cost Numerica to contain.
“Yeah… Yeah I imagine it would be for anyone living next to that place,” Jago agreed grimly. “I don't have a plan, but I have the start of an idea. There’s a weak spot in the shield up top. It flickers out of existence entirely for a few moments only to come back on. We MIGHT be able to do something there.”
“Did you get our message requesting an airship?” Captain Harrel asked curiously. “I intend to land as many Marines as possible on the Fortress. It might be possible for a squad to jump down through the breach and disable the shields from within.”
<I can’t use the radio while flying. Let me speak through you!> Zargoth exclaimed so urgently that Jago didn’t even think about preventing him.
“That’s not a good idea. Too much mass hitting the shield could overload it. I recall your Marines being quite large. What’s more, if they missed the breach touching the shield itself would almost certainly disintegrate them. Though I think the breach itself may be safe to pass through. Well, somewhat safe,” the dragon said through his rider.
“Could a single Marine make it without causing a third demonic invasion?” The Captain wondered.
<Well?> Jago asked his partner as the Dragon remained silent.
<I think that would be safe.>
“That could work,” Jago said, passing on the message since Zar was seemingly done relaying through him. <It’s so weird that bothers you but not me.>
<Your vocal center feels cramped,> Zar said defensively.
“Then we do have the start to a plan. But only a start. Ordinarily, one Marine would be more than enough to turn off a shield, but this is the Dark Lord,” the Captain said grimly.
Jago’s eyes brightened as an idea sprang fully formed into his mind. “Ah ha! I’ve got it,” he exclaimed eagerly. “I brought a gate charm with me incase we attacked only to be trapped inside the Fortress. If we get someone inside, they can use it to open a portal and allow a large force to enter who can then take down the shield!”
“You only just now remembered this?” Captain Harrel asked incredulously. “I’ve seen those in action, one will do nicely.”
Jago nodded. “Well, I brought it as a contingency, not a means of assault. What’s more there’s a catch. Arcane portals tend to spew mana everywhere while open. With how unstable that shield is-”
“It would overload them. Right, back to square one. What if we drop a squad through one at a time?” the Captain asked.
<Not a good idea. It’s total mass, not mass at one time.> Zar warned.
“Zargoth says that’s no good, Captain,” Jago relayed. “But I wasn’t done. As long as the gate charm was activated towards the middle of the shield it should be okay. The energy overflow is localized. Trust me, I’ve used these to slip around wards before.”
“Then if we can get a man inside the Fort itself, we can get a squad inside. Excellent! How soon can you have an airship pick my men up?” The Captain asked.
<If we wait for the fleet to arrive, and the Dark Lord didn’t spot the Sea Dragon, and is playing dead until he can see what hit him, then he’ll blow our fleet out of the sky while we wait for his Marine to open the gate,> Zar advised.
<I’m with you there,> Jago agreed. “Not sure if that’s the best idea, sir. It would leave my fleet exposed and within attack range of the Fortress for however long the shields remained up, plus the time it would take to begin dropping paratroopers.
“We have uh, ten minutes? Ten or twelve. Let’s go with ten to be safe. I think we could lift one Marine up to the breech and drop them in, right Zar?”
The dragon nodded.
“Yeah, Zar’s up for it,” Jago added quickly. “We can be at your sub in three minutes, at the breach in say, two more, giving your soldier five minutes to open the gate, and then the squad would have a few more minutes to take down the shield. If they can be fast, we might not have to circle the Fort at all. What do you say?”
The Captain was silent for a few moments as he tried to think of a better plan. “It’s worth a shot. We can always try bombardment and magically containing the psiportal once your fleet arrives. How many battlemages do you have?”
“Sixteen, and two wizards,” Jago replied. “Along with fifty knights. Nearly our whole garrison.”
Jago flinched as a loud snap crackled into his ear as the Captain flipped a switch on the Sea Dragon’s bridge.
“Sergeant Horrigan, report to the upper deck and prepare to be airlifted. We need someone to help the spiders open a portal so we can take the Fortress’s shields down safely. A Rider will be along shortly to transport you. You’ll be briefed in flight.” The click thundred once more as the Captain flipped the intercom off. “Godspeed, Rider. Sea Dragon out.”
<Think one marine can live in there long enough to open a gate?> Jago asked as he tucked the radio back into his saddlebag. <You know, if the Dark Lord is still in there.>
<I don’t know. I don’t know much about them,> Zargoth admitted as he banked left and begun to dive down towards the Sea Dragon. <I guess we’ll see.>
“Orders received sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Francine Horrigan said as the intercom crackled off.
The assault deck was a single massive airlock with dozens of individual hatches and ladders. A space meant to shelter troops before they rapidly deployed onto the upper deck. It a fairly cramped place for a Marine.
Especially one of her size. Even more so when the Sea Dragon’s entire Marine complement was standing armed and armored on the deck, clustered around the hatches, making each hatch and ladder glow a pale purple.
Not intentionally. Each squad’s collective psionic might combined with their eagerness to fight almost always caused a little Saint Elmo’s fire to manifest nearby.
“Damnit!” One of Francine’s squadmates cursed, frowning behind his helmet’s faceplate. “There goes our shot at some fun this year.”
“Save some for us, Sister?” Another asked hopefully.
“I don’t know… It’s just ONE Dark Lord,” she joked, sending each of her squaddies a quick telepathic smile. “We’ll see.”
The Marine gave her armor one last quick check, pulling her currently green adaptive camouflage robe aside to check for each of her weapons and tools.
Very few people would call a Marine’s kit Power Armor. It was sleek, nearly form fitting, with very minimal visible plates. Most people would describe it as a black catsuit with a hydraulic exoskeleton attached to it. Those people never saw the armor in proper use, when psionic energy ran through the armor’s systems like the lifeblood it was.
Most people also found the marine’s eyeholeless helmets to be beyond stupid. Not because of their simple blank-face aesthetics. But because they offered no physical or magical way to see. The Marines had no need of such shortcuts. Francine could see herself just fine.
Her equipment was all there. She was good to go.
With the most trivial of thoughts, Francine directed her power to her armor. Energy poured into its systems. The armor hummed quietly, purple energy flashing across its surface for an instant as perfectly form fitting plates of hardened ectoplasm formed over and around the armor’s hydraulics, creating a full body suit of dull green armor that was just as tough as the marine who conjured it.
Francine didn't need the ladder. Reaching up and twisting the hatch open, the Marine hoisted herself up the fifteen feet to the upper deck, pulled her robe’s hood up, activated its’ camouflage mode with a thought, and waited for her ride.
“Better not be a tomb already. There’s only so much sitting around meditating a girl can do,” she grumbled to herself.
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This is about to go so wrong I can't wait to see the next Chapter.
The fortress after those nukes.
Orchid's room is neat, too bad it's about to be nuked.
So, it's a combination submarine/battleship? I ended up a little confused by the description last chapter but forgot to mention that in the comments.
That might be a little adorable.
Seems like that would be bad.
Ahh, so that's why they put psi- in front of everything.
8646426 Perhaps I did describe it poorly... It's called a submersible and not a submarine for a particular reason. It's a submersible battleship.
It looks something like this in terms of general shape and above water profile. It's far larger than a civil war Ironclad, approaching the size of a Nimitz Carrier
images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20111110213906/dirkpitt/images/c/ca/Sahara.jpg
The main deck on the top conceals six retractable tri-barrel turrets. They retract to make the ship more hydrodynamic and keep the weapons dry. I am referring to these sorts of guns.
ak2.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/16849192/thumb/1.jpg
It has three at the bow, and three at the stern. The launch silos are flush with the top deck and sit between the two gun emplacements at the center of the ship. The assault deck is at the very front of the ship just below the guns.
This will go one of two ways, either the gang will find some way to convince the Sea Dragon that they are not who they think, or ist all going to go tits up.
8646485
Honestly, considering how bad hatty was? Killing some innocent adventurers and then simply resurrecting them (if possible in this world) or just feeling bad about it is a fair price to pay. We're talking not about don't children villain, but straight out real abomination territory. An Elder God attack in all but name. Half a dozen innocent lives are a cheap price to pay in an act to eradicate it.
Their only true hope is keeping the potential demonic invasion as a deterrent and then getting the hell out of dodge, somehow. And/or Twilight ex Machina (considerably more realistic, considering the GM is on their side, somewhat).
Cute fairy village. Shame she has no one to share it with
8646764
She had imaginary friends...
8646764
However they don't know they are innocent, they think everyone in the fort is with Hatty and planning to bring about doomsday, all I'm saying is that they need a chance to convince them that they are not here to bring about Armageddon
Holy fucking shit. What the hell did he do to deserve that?
8650623 If you were paying attention you would know for creating The Blight (seems like a grey goo thing), nearly killing NaN, being mean to the faries, and we can assume other horrible things...
8653910
Chem did that?
8656588 No. Hastur did while impersonating him.
Hastur obviously had to make the world hate Chem's alias somehow, so he did that. Which frankly would result in everyone trying their absolute hardest to kill you if you came back to life. I also do not know how you missed this. It's not a throw away line. It's not in one place in the chapter... Mabey you're as sleep deprived as I am. 4 hours in 3 days... Yay >,<
8656789
Oh shit, I skimmed it in the morning on the bus..
I'll have to reread it. Sorry!
I am slepp deprived of one day too, but jeez, 3-4 days?
"Francine Horrigan" I see what you did there ;p
9882375 Realy? Then I wonder if you'd see what I did in my Fallout Equestira fic. Not sure anyone has yet.