Another flash of white, another crack of thunder—Gilda was blind, deaf, and unaware of what was going on around her. She couldn’t keep track of time. How many seconds had passed? How many minutes?
Slowly, her vision returned. Whites slowly blended with blues, browns and greys. Her ears also began to respond, as she could hear the roar of the wind. At a distance, she could hear someone calling out her name.
“Gilda! Gilda, wake up!”
Gilda took a moment before shaking her head. She felt the wind hit her strongly. Too strongly. There was also an odd sinking feeling in her gut. She realized, a second later, that she was falling uncontrollably from the air.
The eagless immediately spread her wings. Her eyes were still swimming in color, so she used her experience as a practiced flyer to right herself until she could finally see.
The first thing she saw was an air coach doing a vertical dive and the Wind Knights at the rear trying their hardest to keep it from crashing towards the incoming ground. The front part of the air coach had one burnt griffin dangling lifelessly, and the other missing.
Gilda immediately dashed forward, towards the front of the air coach. She felt a windstream coming up beside her, and a glance revealed Fortrakt to be the source. They nodded at each other as both grabbed ahold of the front air coach extensions and grunted as they tried to lift their side up.
Fortrakt squawked with effort as he began to flap his wings hard. Gilda just clenched her beak, a trill of effort escaping her beak as she too tried to lift, to right the coach as quickly as she could. Glancing downwards, she saw the ground creeping up on them fast, the blurred greens slowly transforming to trees.
There was screaming inside the coach. Marco’s voice was the most recognizable, but she could hear the others too. She could also hear and feel small impacts—the passengers were being thrown around.
Time seemed to slow down. Gilda’s vision tunneled as she saw individual rocks, blades of grass, and the crack of dirt below. They were almost to the ground, and her gut was telling her they were coming in too fast.
“Prepare to spread wings!” Gilda barked, sounding surprisingly clear, strong, and loud. “Now!”
Four griffins opened up their wings wide, the wind dragging them backwards. All of them shouted with effort, their feathery limbs taking a toll as they approached the ground.
“Brace for impact!” Gilda squawked.
A sharp, electrical jolt climbed up her forelegs. The extension of the coach snapped, which flung her into the air. In her tunnel vision, she saw the sky, the ground, and the sky once more as she impacted twice before rolling to a stop. The whole thing lasted for just a few seconds, but for Gilda, it felt like an hour.
By the time the eagless came to awareness, she felt her blood rushing everywhere and her heart racing so fast, she thought it would jump out of her body. She kept her eyes down on the ground, the tunnel vision slowly widening. With an effort, she slowly stood up on all fours, and noticed Fortrakt not too far away in front of her, lying on his back, all four legs up in the air.
“Fortrakt, you okay?” Gilda asked rather roughly, her throat sore.
“Hurt. Everywhere,” he replied.
She was about to reply when she remembered the air coach. Grunting, she turned and spotted the air coach. The front extensions have been ripped off, with the bottom smashed and dented, the wood deformed and twisted. The Wind Knights on the rear were trying their hardest to get out of their harnesses. Right behind them, she also noticed the last two coaches making their way down. So far, they were undamaged.
Ignoring the pain in her legs, she slowly made her way towards the downed air coach. When she was just a few paw-paces away, the door was kicked open by a human boot. The noise agitated the Wind Knights in the rear, one even grabbing for the crossbow on his side, but calmed down as Imlay slowly got out. He held the door open as one of the Fortus Knights came out, with a whimpering Brennan riding on his back, the human clutching his left leg. Marco came out as well, his arm around another Marine’s shoulder as both exited the coach. The Fortus Knight and Marines followed afterwards.
“Okay, what the fuck happened?” Imlay demanded, staring at Gilda.
Before Gilda could reply, a strong gust of wind blew around them as the last two air coaches landed. Giraldi was out of the coach, his eyes searching until he spotted Gilda and landed in front of her.
“Sir! You okay?” Giraldi asked.
“I’m fine,” Gilda replied. Her voice still sounded pretty rough, which had Giraldi frowning. The eagless pointed towards Fortrakt and the human civilians. “Have our mage check on the casualties.”
Giraldi nodded. “May I suggest we establish a small perimeter while the injured recover, sir?”
Gilda grabbed her head with one of her claws. She should have thought of that. Nodding towards Giraldi, she replied, “Yes, establish a perimeter while we get our bearings. If we have any available Wind Knights, have them scout the area. Find out where exactly we are and the status of the magical field. Last thing we need is another surprise lightning bolt coming at our rears.” She looked back. “Also, we need to know where the first air coach crashed.”
“Aye-aye,” Giraldi replied, saluting. He flapped his wings, barking orders as he moved towards the newly-landed coaches and began to gather the griffins to assign them various duties.
A small groan grabbed Gilda’s attention as she spotted Fortrakt as he finally made his way towards the first coach. Marco and Brennan were already lying down when Fortrakt followed suit. The eagless caught up with him and checked on his legs and wings.
“Nothing seems broken,” she said.
“I’ll be fine,” Fortrakt muttered. “But I hope you don’t mind me staying here.”
Gilda shook her head in response. She too wanted to just collapse. Her wings wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t flap freely. She sighed, wondering how she would catch up to Giraldi when she heard footsteps approaching her. She turned, and saw Imlay standing there.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
Gilda looked at him. His face was devoid of emotion, but his shoulders were hunched, arms holding that black tube across his chest. For some reason, she realized she wouldn’t get away with a non-answer. She motioned towards the damaged coach, and towards the sky. “We passed through an active magical field that rained down lightning bolts.”
Imlay frowned, his neutral face transforming to a more contemplative look. “So someone shot us down?”
“Not exactly,” Gilda replied. She looked up again. “The field was more of a Defensive spell.”
Imlay frowned before nodding. “That’s the kind of spell that takes time to build? The Lynch?”
The eagless blinked. “Lynch?”
“Sorry, Layered Enchantments,” Imlay replied. “That’s what Equestrians call it, I think.”
Gilda nodded, impressed. “Yes. Huh. Thought you humans didn’t know about Tellus magic?”
“We studied up,” Imlay replied. “So, basically, we entered a minefield, and stepped on one.” Gilda just nodded, taking note of the word ‘minefield’. “Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?”
“What do you mean?” the eagless asked.
“I’m assuming that the spell we triggered was one of yours.”
“No!” Gilda exclaimed. “That spell shouldn’t be there at all! And most of our border spells just detect trespassers. We don’t call down lightning on them!”
“Then someone just placed an unauthorized Lynch here? I mean, I don’t know about you, ma’am, but the implications scare me,” Imlay muttered.
Gilda looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“As far as I’m aware, Lynches only have limited uses,” the human muttered. “They have certain parameters to follow. Up there, it was shooting out lightning, yet down here—”
“We’re safe,” Gilda finished. She looked up again, her mind quickly realizing the implications Imlay had spoken about. “The Defensive spell is acting as a barrier for high-flyers. Its preventing anyone from entering in a hurry.”
“Or from escaping,” Imlay added.
Gilda nodded. “Either way, it makes for getting reinforcements harder. That means something’s happening in the Southern Lands.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Imlay said. “Also, I might add, is it true that you have sent a scout out ahead before we were shot down?”
“Yes, I did,” Gilda replied, only for another thought to hit her. Why wasn’t Fortrakt attacked when he went ahead?
“I see you are also realizing another implication,” Imlay said, nodding.
“Someone activated the Defensive spell, ensuring maximum casualties,” Gilda muttered.
“Exactly,” Imlay replied. “We may not be alone, ma’am.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Corporal,” Gilda replied. She gave him a sharp nod. “Thank you.”
“No problem, ma’am,” Imlay said. He took a moment and looked around. “One coach is missing.”
Gilda felt the bottom of her stomach take a dive. She nodded again. “I’ve sent additional scouts to find the limits of this Defensive spell and the downed coach. We will rescue the missing passengers.”
Imlay’s lips thinned, but nodded. Gilda thought he was about to say more when a group of Marines walked up behind him.
“Corporal Imlay, what’s going on?” one of the Marines asked.
Imlay gave one last look at Gilda before facing the group. “It seems we might be seeing some action. Lock and load, and stow the combat-jack. Time to go to work, boys and girls.”
Gilda watched as Imlay gave the group more instructions. Oddly enough, the group seemed to get more and more excited, even giddy, as Imlay told them to expect hostiles. Comforted that the Marines weren’t hesitating or even reluctant with the whole situation, she made her way towards the injured.
Marco was being checked by a dark-skinned Marine, who was asking him a few questions. Marco responded by either nodding or shaking his head.
Once she was close enough, she could hear the Marine say, “You are very lucky.”
“Sorry if disagree, doc,” Marco muttered.
Gilda heard a few footsteps, and a glance revealed Imlay. “How are they, Doc?”
“Mister Brennan is suffering from a broken leg,” ‘Doc’ replied, not even looking at Imlay. “I placed it in a splint. Mister Lakan here is luckier, suffering from milder injuries.”
“And said I disagree,” Marco mumbled.
“He also might be suffering from a mild concussion,” Doc added.
“I called in a mage to have a look,” Gilda said. “He’ll heal both of them.”
“I really appreciate that, ma’am,” Imlay replied, giving her a nod.
The eagless nodded back. Doc then moved towards one of the Marines sitting down and began to check on him. Imlay left, probably to check on the other Marines, leaving her alone with Marco. He gave her a frown.
“Gilda... Chris, Tara?” he asked.
Gilda sighed, and for the first time, felt very bone-tired. She laid down on all fours, gently placing a claw on Marco’s chest.
“We’ll find them, Marco,” she replied. “I promise.”
The human closed his eyes, one of his hands patting her claw. “Thanks,” he muttered.
Gilda watched Marco for a moment as he began to breathe steadily, sleeping. She groaned for a moment. She tried to stand up, only for her legs to disobey her. Forcing them to respond didn’t help and she soon found herself falling back on the cool comfortable ground. The eagless sighed, closing her eyes for just a moment.
Just for a bit, she thought, until the pain moves away.
Warmness encompassed her. She shuddered as she felt her limbs slowly relaxing, the pain fading to a more comfortable soreness. There were a few murmurs, but nothing really stood out until she heard Fortrakt say, “She’s going to be fine.”
Gilda opened her eyes, only to see a tiercel and an eagless looking down on her.
“Sub-Tribune,” the eagless spoke, slowly, “are you feeling better?”
Gilda grunted and tried to stand. Her legs responded more naturally. She felt for her wings, which flexed at her command. She took a glance at the eagless, noting a levitating staff on her side, and realized what had happened. She gave the Mage Knight a nod.
“The soreness will fade in half an hour, but you will have full control of your limbs,” the mage continued. “Also, drink a lot of water and eat more red meats for the next couple of days.”
“Will do,” she replied towards the mage, then turned towards Fortrakt. “How long was I unconscious?”
“About an hour, sir,” Fortrakt replied. “The scouts are back. That human Corporal and the Spear Centurion are awaiting your presence.”
Gilda looked around and spotted Brennan, Marco, and two Marines lying on the ground. She motioned towards them and looked at the mage.
“The civilians have been looked over, sir,” she replied. “The one with a broken leg will be able to put his full weight on it after a while. The other is unconscious, which is normal after healing a head injury. The human soldiers will be looked after at once now that you’re back on your fours.”
“Marines,” Gilda corrected.
“I-I’m sorry, sir?”
Gilda opened her beak, then closed it, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Where’s the Spear Centurion Giraldi and Corporal Imlay?”
“By the Third air coach,” Fortrakt replied. “I’ll lead you there, sir.”
“You are not leading her anywhere,” the mage muttered. “It is your turn to get looked at.”
“I’m fine!” Fortrakt insisted.
Gilda blinked, then slowly stretched her wing to gently hit Fortrakt in his foreleg, which immediately got him to clam up and shudder. He gave her a look.
“Get yourself looked at first,” Gilda ordered. Expecting a complaint, she gave him a glare. “Are we clear?”
Fortrakt sighed. “Yes, sir.”
Nodding, Gilda stretched her legs a bit, feeling the mild discomfort from the soreness, but otherwise was able to move around less stiffly than before. Step by step, she left the gathered injured laying down in circle around the damaged Second air coach, watching a few griffins patrolling the air, while a few Marines were posted around in a perimeter, their tubes pointing outwards.
The Third coach was not too far away, tucked in between the Second and the Fourth. Giraldi had moved the coaches closer to each other while she was unconscious. Awaiting her around the Third coach was Imlay and Giraldi in the center, two Fortus Knights, and a clawful of Wind Knights and Talons around them. As she neared, the griffins saluted and bared their necks, some of them moving out of the way.
“Nice to have you back, sir,” Giraldi muttered as Gilda approached the center.
“What do we have, Spear Centurion?” she asked.
“Not a lot of good news,” Giraldi replied. “The Wind Knights were able to ascertain the expanse of the Defensive spell. Travel higher than fifty perches from the ground, you enter the magical field and get rained down with bolts. And as far as we know, it extends for maybe fifteen more leagues.”
Gilda frowned. While that height would still allow griffins to fly, it’ll be useless when it comes to carrying the air coaches effectively. Then, looking around, she realized that the coaches themselves wouldn’t help. They were down to two, and even if they repaired the Second one, she’d just be tiring out the rest of the Wind Knights—not a particularly good idea when there might be enemies about.
“The magic bolts also interfered with our comms,” Imlay declared. “We’re getting nothing but static.”
“Comms?” Gilda asked.
Imlay took a moment, his expression deep in thought for a moment before he nodded. “Radio. We have certain technology in Earth where you can communicate with someone far away via voice.”
Gilda remembered something similar in the movie, Warrior. “Like those telly-bones?”
“Telephones,” Imlay corrected. “And yes, ma’am. It’s something like that.”
Gilda and Giraldi clenched their beaks. They both thought of the same thing, wanting to ask how that ‘radio’ worked. Instantaneous communication like that was only found using Dragonfire Gems, which they had, but they daren’t risk sending a letter now, especially when there might be an antagonistic mage nearby. The letter could be intercepted, or worse.
“When can you fix the problem on this radio?” Giraldi asked.
“I don’t know,” Imlay replied. “The radio is pretty sensitive to bursts of magical energies. But it should be working again once we clear from the area.”
“Alright,” Gilda said.
“Corporal Imlay also said that he had talked to you earlier, and that a conclusion was drawn that we have entered a hostile territory?” Giraldi asked.
“A conclusion that is getting more likely,” Gilda replied, trying not to sigh. “Earlier, Fortrakt had spotted a few dragons ahead in a spread-out formation. We are unsure yet if they are even part of this, but it's worth noting.”
There was a murmur among the griffins.
“He also came back unharmed,” Giraldi muttered. “Someone activated the field when we were nearby.”
Gilda nodded, impressed that he caught on that rather quickly.
“Then we have an enemy mage griffin nearby,” Giraldi muttered.
“How can you be sure it’s a griffin?” Imlay asked. “It could be a unicorn.”
“An Equestrian?” Giraldi almost scoffed.
Imlay raised an eyebrow as a response.
“No, this is a griffin spellwork,” Gilda assured. “Trust us, Corporal, we have known our Equestrian allies longer than you humans.”
Imlay frowned but nodded. Gilda accepted that and looked back at Giraldi.
“Any news on the missing coach?” she asked.
“There’s an indication of a crash site a league south-west of our current position,” Giraldi replied. “I dare not spread our forces thinly, especially when there are potential hostiles around.” He sighed. “While we cannot confirm, there are things moving under the tall grasses.”
“It could be grass lions,” Gilda said.
“Grass lions?” Imlay asked.
“Native animals to the South,” Giraldi explained. “Not really lions. More like big cats with large canines.” He turned to Gilda. “Sir, I doubt it would be grass lions. The movement indicated at least three or more hiding and traveling under the grass.”
“And grass lions hunt alone,” Gilda completed, frowning. “Okay, it doesn’t matter. We know there’s something out there, so let’s be prepared for hostiles. What matters right now is that we have to find the missing coach and its passengers before they fall into the claws of whoever attacked us.”
Imlay nodded again. “So, ma’am, what’s the plan?”
Gilda pondered about it for a moment. “Can we move the injured?” she asked Giraldi.
“From what I’ve heard, most of the injuries are simple,” Giraldi explained. “However, we only have one mage, and we’ve overworked her a bit. We can probably leave after an hour, once she fully recovers.”
Gilda shook her head. “Too long. Once she heals everyone, and once she can walk, we’re moving out. Take whatever we can. We’ll move forward as a group. I need a few Wind Knights to patrol the air, and make sure no one is creeping towards or behind us. I want Fortus Knights covering our flanks with Talons supporting them.”
The eagless expected Giraldi to say something, but after a moment, the centurion nodded. Facing towards the surrounding griffins, he shouted an order. All of them saluted and began spreading out, some going through the coaches, while others patrolled the area.
Once they cleared, Imlay turned to Gilda. “Once we get a clearer signal, we’ll try and get the word out of what’s going on here. Meanwhile, I’ll have my men ready to move when the time comes.” He walked away.
Once he was out of sight, Gilda sighed and looked at Giraldi. “Well?” she whispered.
“Not bad,” Giraldi replied with a small smile. “I still think we ought to wait for our mage to recover, but you are also right that we need to catch up to the fallen coach.” He looked around. “Let’s just hope we don’t come across a mage.” He looked at her again. “I’ll give you a call when we’re ready. I suggest you take a rest, Behertz.”
Gilda gave Giraldi a nod, though she was unsure whether to follow his suggestion. Right now, she wanted to move, to do anything. Something was coming, something big, and it scared her that she had no idea what it was.
Passing through the damaged Second coach, she saw Fortrakt chatting with Marco and Brennan, both sitting up. They didn’t see her. Not feeling the need to join in, Gilda began to walk around the perimeter, watching a few Marines chatting with the griffin soldiers, though still maintaining due diligence by keeping their eyes forward.
Walking towards the Fourth coach, she spotted the sleepy-looking Magus Knight meditating, staff glowing in front of her. Giraldi was walking around giving a few more orders. She half-wondered if the centurion ever got tired.
After walking around in a circle for the second time, she finally gave in and joined Fortrakt, Marco and Brennan on their conversation. For almost half an hour, they engaged mostly in small talk, with everyone seemingly avoiding the topic of the missing coach, until a Wind Knight approached and advised her that the Magus Knight was ready to move.
“Tell the Spear Centurion that we’ll have everyone travel in five minutes,” Gilda replied. The Wind Knight saluted and bared his neck, then moved away.
“What was that?” Marco asked, shifting his body a bit.
“We’re moving in five minutes,” Fortrakt translated in Equestrian.
Marco blinked. He took a deep breath. “We’re going to look for the first coach, right?”
Gilda gave him a sharp nod. “Of course.”
The human sighed. “Thank you, Gilda.”
Gilda just gave him a smile and patted him on the back. She looked at Brennan. “Can you stand?”
Brennan gave her a nod before slowly getting on his feet. After putting pressure on his just healed leg, he winced, but was able to move, if not slightly limp, around.
Gilda looked at Marco, who was already standing and slowly pacing around them. One of the passing Marines said, “Hey, look who’s up. What’s the hurry, Flip-Boy?”
Marco grinned. “Didn’t you hear? We’re Oscar Mike in five.”
“For real?” the Marine replied with a grin. “You ain’t playin’ me, right?”
“You can always ask Imlay,” Marco said, shrugging.
“Well, it’s about goddamn time.”
When the Marine walked away, Brennan was smiling as he took his sixth step. “Okay, this is getting weird. But good weird. The pain is fading.”
“You drank plenty of fluids, right?” Fortrakt asked.
“Pretty much, yeah. That’s what that griffin told me.”
As the two continued the conversation, Gilda’s eyes drifted towards Marco, who seemed to block out the everything else as his eyes stared towards the South.
It was a little more than five minutes once the everyone started moving. Giraldi had changed the formation slightly, using only two Wind Knights to scout forward, and three Wind Knights to guard the rear. The two Fortus Knights and one earth-griffin Talon carried most of the supplies, while the rest of the Talons covered the group’s flanks. The Magus Knight was at the center of the group, accompanying Fortrakt, Marco, and Brennan.
Gilda was in the front, something she had insisted, even with Giraldi suggesting she join the human civilians. Giraldi advised her that the command structure was very important to the griffin morale, and couldn't risk her in the front unless necessary.
“I won’t ask a griffin something I wouldn’t do,” Gilda had said, which finally convinced him, though he had insisted that she should not act like a regular soldier at the first sign of trouble.
“Let us do our jobs,” Giraldi had replied.
The Marines were spread out, though they were concentrated in the center. Imlay joined her in the front.
The trip itself was pretty routine. They walked for more than half an hour, with the forward scouts reporting a clear path, though they have spotted movement along the fields and some of the woodland areas. The rear Wind Knights were also reporting something moving behind them as well. Yet as alert as the griffins and humans were, nothing happened. There was a point, where both rear and front scouts approached, just to tell that they spotted movement on both sides.
“This feels like a horror movie,” Imlay muttered. “A bad one.”
Gilda looked at him. “Never watched those yet. Why? What would make it less ‘bad’?”
“It would be dark,” Imlay replied with a grin.
Gilda shook her head. “I’ll probably ask Marco to play one for me once we get back to Arnau.”
Imlay chuckled. “There can only be one reason for a boy to watch a horror movie with a girl.”
She blinked. “Which is?”
Before Imlay could reply, they heard footsteps coming from behind them. Both Gilda and Imlay looked and spotted a Marine that had a backpack with a flexible rod emerging from the backpack, reaching towards the sky. He was holding a black box that looked like a telephone, attached to coiled rubber. Imlay’s eyes widened.
“You have a signal?”
“Not clear, but I think we can send something through,” the Marine replied.
“About fucking time,” Imlay muttered. He placed the phone on his ear. “This is Warwolf-3 Alpha...”
“Sub-Tribune!” Giraldi called.
Gilda blinked and tore her eyes away from Imlay. She spotted Giraldi pointing towards the sky ahead, and she noted a Wind Knight scout coming back, though this time, he was raising his claw. Gilda took a breath. They had just reported five minutes ago, which means they found something new.
The Wind Knight landed just a few claw paces away from Giraldi. His beak was open, wheezing, trying to get as much air as he could. He gave them a snap salute and bared his neck before saying, “Downed... coach... twenty minutes.”
“Any activity?” the centurion asked.
“No... sir,” the Wind Knight replied.
Gilda’s eyes narrowed. A thought went through her head, but after a moment, she shook it out.
“Behertz?” Giraldi whispered. The eagless looked at him. “Something bothering you?”
She almost scoffed. Nothing seemed to escape the centurion. “Just a thought,” she replied.
“What is it?” Giraldi asked.
“We are very close,” Gilda began, “and a part of me wants to quicken the pace.”
“Aye, have to admit, I’m tempted to ask you to give the order,” Giraldi muttered. “No reported activity near the downed coach doesn’t bode well with me. There should at least be some, with either the surviving Wind Knights or the Fortus Knight in the carriage.”
Gilda nodded. “However, if we hurry without thought, we could tire ourselves out and be unprepared if an assault comes. And we wouldn’t be useful to anyone at the downed coach.”
“We’ll make do,” Giraldi replied. “It’s the Marines, though, that I can’t vouch for.”
“Vouch for what?” Imlay spoke up. Gilda glanced at him, and noticed that he wasn’t talking on the radio.
“Have you gotten through?” she asked.
“I sent word out, but we haven’t gotten a response yet,” he replied. “Now, vouch for what exactly?”
Gilda explained what the scout found out, and their current dilemma.
“Well, we’re okay with a quicker pace,” Imlay replied once the eagless stopped explaining. “I mean, I doubt we can run as fast as you griffins, but we won’t tire out. However, I can’t say the same for the civilians.”
Gilda clicked her beak. While she was sure Marco would probably be able to keep up, Brennan was a different story. She had no real way to judge if a human was fit or not unless she had seen them in action.
“That said, we can send someone ahead, establish a perimeter, while the rest of the group catches up,” Imlay suggested.
Giraldi blinked. “Break formation?” he asked.
Imlay looked at him. “I’m guessing you’re not a big fan of that.”
Gilda shook her head. “We rarely break formation, especially with such small numbers at our disposal.” She paused, then looked at Giraldi. “How many earth-griffin Talons do we have?”
“Around three. You had one carry the supplies. Why?” the centurion asked.
“We can still move at a quicker pace,” Gilda replied. “Let the two earth-griffins carry the two civilians, and have the rest of them run at a steady pace with the Marines. The sky-griffins can take to the skies ahead, make sure they won’t be running blind.”
Giraldi gave her a look, frowned, then nodded. “That may work.”
“Good.” Gilda rotated her shoulders. “Let’s turn this twenty-minute trip into ten.”
It took two minutes for Giraldi to reorganize the griffin soldiers. It took only a minute for the Marines to organize themselves. Gilda liked to think that miffed the centurion a bit, but she had a bit more worrying issues. Giraldi was an earth-griffin, thus leaving the leading of the sky-griffins to her disposal. The thought of choking up once trouble appeared, thus getting the griffins under her command killed, plagued her mind.
Thankfully, five minutes into the trip, nothing happened. The sky-griffins passed through more plains of grass, with the woodland areas getting farther and farther away. A few of the Wind Knights began to slow down once they reached the seven minute mark, but Gilda kept pace, somewhat proud that her nightly flights had definitely paid off. And even if she had felt tired, she wouldn’t have slowed down.
She finally saw it: the fallen coach.
It had crashed in a middle of a depression, crushing a few tall grasses underneath. There was a fallen tree nearby, probably having taken a blow from the coach as it came down. With her sharp eagle-eyes, she saw the extent of the damage on the coach: the wood had been burnt black with scorch marks and the four extensions were smashed, with no signs of life anywhere. And as she finally came closer, she felt ice sliding down her back.
There were two lumps on the ground, the grass around them tinged with red.
“Sir!” Fortrakt called.
Gilda turned her head back towards the Wind Knights, and realized they were trying to catch up with her.
“Sir! You’re going way too fast!” Fortrakt called, finally catching up with her.
Gilda thought about it for a second, then nodded to herself. “I need four Wind Knights with me. We’ll go ahead and establish a perimeter, while the rest catch up.”
“Y-you mean break formation?” one of the nearby Wind Knights advised.
“Yes,” Gilda replied.
“Sir, I don’t know about you, but we could we flying into a trap,” Fortrakt muttered.
Gilda nodded. “I know. That’s why we’re going in as a small group. If we do spring anything, we can easily escape.”
“Ancestors, I hope this isn’t about me giving you grief about your age,” Fortrakt whispered.
The eagless looked at her partner for a moment, shaking her head. “We’re so close, Fortrakt,” she whispered. “And I am not liking what’s going on so far.”
“Well, hope you don’t mind me joining,” the tiercel muttered.
Gilda gave him a small smile before darting her eyes forward. She fought the urge to go even faster, and remained steady and calm while staying in formation. Three minutes felt like three hours, but at a steady pace, they were able to reach the fallen coach.
Three Wind Knights landed first, crossbows out. They scanned the area, and when they squawked an all-clear signal, Gilda and Fortrakt landed next, and the two Wind Knights joined the fifth one in the sky, circling the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
“Check the inside of the coach,” Gilda ordered.
Fortrakt saluted in response and called one of the Wind Knights to help him.
Gilda ran towards one of the lumps in the grass, and the smell of blood and bile told her what it was before she could see it. A dead griffin laid on the grass with one of his wings ripped apart. She frowned. There was something wrong here.
“Sir,” one of the Wind Knights, an eagless, called, “we have a dead Wind Knight here.”
It was a second moment before she realized what was bothering her. She checked the body again. She sniffed again, noting something missing. After a second, she noticed it.
“Is the body burnt?” Gilda asked.
The Wind Knight frowned, took a look again before shaking her head. “No, sir. He’s missing his wings though.”
Before Gilda could think about it deeply, Fortrakt called her attention.
“Uh, sir, the door is stuck,” the tiercel muttered. “We may need an earth-griffin here.”
Gilda looked towards the sky. “How far is the rest of the group?” she shouted.
One Wind Knight descended just low enough to reply. “Five minutes out.”
Gilda nodded her thanks, and looked back at Fortrakt. “Do you hear anything from inside the coach? Breathing? Crying?”
Fortrakt looked towards the open slit, sniffed, then looked back at Gilda, confused. “I smell blood. And... there’s a griffin blocking the door.”
The eagless frowned. Something odd was definitely going on around here. Still, it seemed that nothing was popping out to attack them, so she she joined Fortrakt near the fallen coach.
The group appeared two minutes earlier than expected. The earth griffins came first, running down the ramp with Giraldi in the lead. He looked none too pleased. The Marines came in later, those of paler color looking flushed, red. They were breathing through their mouths, panting just a bit.
Before she could say anything, Giraldi walked forward and whispered, very evenly, “Sir, I don’t meant to be disrespectful, but what the crows were you thinking?”
Gilda wasn’t fazed. “I made a call, centurion. And we can talk about this later. Right now, we need the door of the carriage opened.”
Giraldi looked like he wanted to argue more, but ever the professional soldier, just nodded. He barked out orders once more, having the Talons spread out, with Gilda pointed out where the two dead griffins were laid. The Marines, surprisingly, looked healthy once more, just taking a few sips from their odd dark-green colored ‘waterskins’, and joining the the Talons in establishing a perimeter.
Near the fallen coach, Marco and Brennan were watching as the Fortus Knights tried to pry the door open. After failing, they took out their warhammers and began to hit both sides of the door. Wood chipping flew with every impact, and soon, the door gave way. Prying it away, the first thing that greeted them was a bloodied Fortus Knight, who put his whole weight on the door, as if to block it. Close behind the Knight was a Marine.
Gilda couldn’t tell if the griffin and human were alive, but judging by how the Magus Knight was nodding, she hoped it was good news. Next, the Fortus Knights lifted the coach to widen the opening, just enough for a few Marines to crawl in and slowly extract the injured.
Raleigh came out first, his spectacles smashed, with a few cuts his face. The Marine, Doc, gave him a look, and the Magus Knight approached him. The two talked, with Doc pointing out specific places in Raleigh’s body, probably giving her a run-down of the injuries, before the mage waved her staff over Raleigh’s body, where it glowed brightly.
Gilda had to admit, the Magus Knight was made of tough stuff. Any normal mage wouldn’t have much magic to spare by now.
Still stealing glances as Talons began to report back to her, she saw Doc grab out a few bandages, cotton, and some bottles. He overturned a bottle over the cotton and wiped Raleigh’s face.
Brennan approached once a Marine was able to extract Henderson out. Another Marine had the rounder human keep his distance as Doc took a look at her. Again, the human and the mage worked in tandem, with her healing injuries, while the Doc grabbed out a few bandages and cotton.
Marco approached when Tara came out. Gilda craned her neck upwards, trying to check and see if she could confirm if she was alive when she heard a flap of wings approach.
“Sub-Tribune,” Giraldi called.
Shaking her head, Gilda looked at the approaching centurion and nodded. “Yes, Giraldi?”
“We have to move soon,” he muttered. “We’re spotting more movement following us, getting closer.” He looked around. “And we’re not exactly in a good fighting position. That ramp we just passed will assist whatever is following in their charge. What’s worse, we only have two Fortus Knights, so we can’t form an effective shieldwall.”
Gilda nodded. “I know. Once we get all the injured out and looked at, we’ll have to move out of here—”
“Chris!”
Marco’s shout sent shivers down her spine. Turning around, she saw the brown-skinned human trying to overpower the Marine stopping him from reaching the now-extracted Chris. Both the Doc and Magus Knight were shaking their heads.
Gilda immediately rushed towards the downed coach. “Give way!” she barked, and the griffins followed suit. Even from afar, she could only look in horror as Chris seemed to be bent... wrongly.
“What happened?” Gilda asked, a little louder than necessary.
Doc looked at her, frowning. “Damage to the vertebrae. Mister McClain is still alive, but he won’t be able to move anything below the chest.”
“Chris! Fuck you, let me go!” Marco shouted, still trying to force his way through.
Gilda turned to the brown-skinned human, her mind trying to form words of comfort, only to die down once she heard a death scream.
Everything went to the crows then.
The scream came from a Talon. One of the dead Wind Knights suddenly stood up, jumped over her, and snapped its beak towards her neck. Taken by surprise, she was utterly defenseless, and her death only served as the first warning.
The second warning came from a Wind Knight, yelling as he was shot down. The second dead Wind Knight had stood up as well, grabbed its crossbolt, and taken the shot.
The third warning came as a roar. Above the ramp, a pack of grass lions of various state of decay emerged from the foliage. They stared directly towards the group surrounding the fallen coach before they began to run down the ramp, jaws open, sharp overgrowing canines gleaming dangerously with the sun.
There was no time to mount a defense. There was no time to retreat. All of Gilda’s fears came true. The griffins would die under her command. The humans would soon follow afterwards. She thought back to Equestria, with Rainbow Dash, and back at Marco, Tara, and Chris as they watched the human movies in the latter’s room, back in Arnau.
She found some sort of steely resolve. She immediately went for her steel claw gloves. By the time the grass lions reached them, she’d have worn the pair, and she hoped to take out at least one. A part of her wondered if they’d be able to buy time for Giraldi to order the civilians out of there.
“Light ‘em up!” Imlay shouted.
It took Gilda a second before she realized that the Marines had taken a step forward. It was a second later when she realized why.
Cracks of thunder filled the air, the noise deafening as the black tubes the humans pointed towards the grass lions flashed with fire. An acrid smell of dirt and burnt metal filled the air as the grass lions fell down one by one.
It was odd that Gilda felt some clarity as she observed the human weapons deal in death by numbers. Her sharp eagle-eyes could see all tubes breathing out fire, the smaller ones at intervals, while the bulkier ones fired almost continuously. For some reason, she could see glinting pieces of yellow metal expelled out from the sides of the tubes.
Black rectangular metal pieces started falling from the bottom of some of the black tubes. Gilda wondered if the human weapons were breaking. However, the Marines holding the affected tubes just grabbed another rectangular piece from their vests and quickly replaced the one that fell, joining their brothers-in-arms with more bursts of fire until the last grass lion was down to the ground.
Gilda could not believe her eyes. She counted at least ten grass lions, and they barely made it halfway. Even with a working shieldwall, the best thing the griffins could do facing that would be delivering death by inches. The humans, the Marines, had all but destroyed them.
“Holy fucking shit!” one of the Marines shouted, smiling. “Did we just light up a bunch of sabretooth tigers?!”
Imlay was frowning. “Stow that shit, Stavrou. The little bastards are still moving.”
“Fucking hell, they aren’t dead yet?” another Marine asked.
Gilda blinked and watched as two grass lions emerged, limping, still coming at them. Three more followed afterwards, crawling.
“In the head,” she shouted. Imlay looked at her.
“What?” he asked.
“Hit them in the head!”
Imlay nodded. “Well, you heard the lady!”
The Marines pointed their weapons towards the approaching grass lions. More cracks of thunder roared around them, though unlike earlier, came at single bursts.
“Boom! Headshot!”
“Holy shit, did you see that!? I splattered its brains all over the place!”
There were more single bursts and a few instances of laughter. “Fucking A, this is fun!”
“Anderson! Stop wasting your fucking ammo or you’re stuck on police call!” Imlay ordered. “Kill the goddamned thing already!”
Another shiver ran down Gilda’s spine as she felt magic stirring in the air. Before she could shout a warning, a ball of lightning formed right above the Marines, and sent down one destructive bolt down on their heads.
The Magus Knight behind them jumped to the air and intercepted it with her staff. With a shout of effort, she moved her staff in an arc, and returned the lighting towards a slight haze in the sky. A sickly green shield emerged, redirecting the lightning upwards.
“Mage griffin!” Gilda shouted.
It landed on the ground on all fours, scabs and red blots and bald spots all over its coat. The griffin mage held a glowing broken staff with its beak, spreading his unkempt wings as he stared at the Marines blankly.
“Fuck that griffin’s day,” was all Imlay said.
More deafening bursts of thunder spread out in the air as the Marines focused on the griffin mage. But whatever weapons they had, they couldn’t seem to penetrate its sickly green shield, which sparkled with bursts of fire.
“Shield!” one of the Marines shouted.
Imlay nodded, and grabbed something from his vest. It looked like a thick cylinder with a yellow curved tip and inserted it into the bottom length of his black tube. Gilda couldn’t follow what happened next. All she heard was a thumping sound, like a hiccup in the air, and the next thing she knew was there was a small flash of light and a deafening explosion that had her recoiling backwards. Dust flew everywhere, making her cover her eyes, as more bursts of thunder echoed for a few more seconds before it finally died down.
“Holy fuck, did you see that griffin’s face when it ate that grenade?” she heard one of the Marines ask.
“I don’t think it registered at all,” another Marine replied.
Gilda opened her eyes and saw a dead griffin, charred and blackened. It was still biting its broken staff. She turned towards the ramp and saw the grass lions lay still, dead and unmoving. Gilda couldn’t find the words, finally remembering to breathe. She watched as the Marines began laughing and giving each other high-fives.
It was a second later that Gilda realized something, and turned around, only to find a collection of griffins stabbing lumps on the ground. It seemed that the Marines weren’t the only ones busy. Giraldi had rounded up a defense, and they were able to bring down the two Wind Knights that had come back from the dead. Said centurion was now actually flying towards her, his eyes wide as platters as he stared at the destruction a few Marines had caused.
“Ancestor’s Past,” he invoked.
Gilda frowned. “I know.”
“In just minutes, they destroyed a group of grass lions and a griffin mage?” Giraldi shook his head. “What are these humans?”
Gilda shook her head. “Well, I’m just glad they are on our side.” She looked at the dead mage and the grass lions. “Especially now. Giraldi, we’ve heard the stories… but I never really thought I’d witness it.”
Giraldi nodded. “Aye. Corpses coming back to life… animals not acting like animals… griffins not acting like griffins.” He paused. “The Cloven of the Sun.”
“After more than a thousand years,” Gilda muttered, shuddering. The worst enemy the griffins have ever faced, the enemy that united the griffin tribes, responsible for forming the Gryphon Kingdom, have returned.
Ancestors preserve us, she thought.
Huh. That actually went better than I expected.
Of course, the dragons still haven't shown up. I presume they are hostile as well?
3109827
Not telling. XD
They may show up. All I can say.
So... Necromancy? Ewww...
Yay! Show those bastards some human weapons! Though, better not tell them about chemical weapons and nukes.We humans seem to keep developing more horrible ways to kill each other.
3109841
Actually... worse. Necromancy is kinda icky as magic, but... this was not done by magic.
If you want some details, you can read The Last Stand of Arnau. Cloven are there.
AMERICA FUCK YEAH! COMING TO SAVE THE MOTHERFUCKING DAY! Well now the Griffins know what those black sticks can do, and for a second there I thought that Griffin Mage was able to block everything. Good job on making him to OP.
Shock and awe, motherfucker
3109856
Me and Permanent Temporary have been discussing how magic shields worked in this verse. We came up with something good. ^_^
3109857
Oh yeeeah...now we gettin' some action! Can't wait to see how the other griffins will react to our firepower!
3109865
Namely that, since the magic bubbles don't stop air from flowing through (otherwise the one inside could quickly suffocate), it logically shouldn't stop the explosive shock waves traveling through that same air. And close-range explosive shock waves do quite a number on the internal organs.
Yay logic.
3109925
Man, writing that part was kinda fun.
3109940
Oh come on, it was more than that. But yeah, basically, that started our discussion, then we moved past and experimented on 'What is the difference between a fire done by magic and a fire done by a flamethrower' (or something close to that).
gotta love underslung grenade launchers cause even if it doesn't travel far enough to arm itself it still hits hard enough to collapse ribcages
3109949
Well I was trying to keep that part on the down-low for now while still offering a plausible explanation...
Why did I think of the Cloven once there was mention of reanimated corpses?
Anyways, good work, as always!
There's a time for peace and then there's a time to blow something's head off with a rocket propelled grenade launcher.
content.ytmnd.com/content/e/1/7/e1775d2678986b89ae7e68577c3cc63c.gif
3109965
An ~8 ounce projectile traveling at ~170 miles per hour impacting below the distance of ~45–90 feet?
That should have about the same kinetic energy as a 9×19mm Parabellum at ~15 feet from the muzzle, or between two or three times the kinetic energy of a heavy jab from a 280-pound professional boxer.
Of course, this doesn't take into account the force and pressure of the above examples...
3109965
And bash heads in. You know, before it explodes.
3109967
A little more info wouldn't have hurt anyways.
3109975
Woohoo! Broke the Five Stache rating!
3109994
Probably coz you read Last Stand and just faved it earlier?
3110010
Was there any record of someone actually headshotting someone with an RPG?
3110024
Uh, there's gonna be a slight snag there.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is what happens when you take a bunch of Marines far away from home, get them all good and pissed off, and drop them into a target-rich environment (with zombie kitties and griffins, no less).
Edit: The reinforcements better bring extra ammo, just in case
3110043
Maybe should have put a comment in.
"Man, fuck Grand Theft Auto."
3110038
>>
<<
Maybe.
And get on Skype! You've gotta get on more!
3110062
I will, later. Still working on my Changeling thing, and I'd rather not get too distracted.
3110067
Excuses, excuses...
I kid, I kid. Do what you have to.
3110038
I've heard of incidents where the rocket [accidentally] hits someone in the head at relatively close ranges happening before, but I don't have a proof at the moment. I'm pretty sure it was with the ubiquitous RPG-7 type of launcher. I'm not certain the head would be blown off, because the projectile likely wouldn't have detonated, but a 6-pound HEAT projectile fired from an RPG-7 at 250 miles per hour has approximately the same kinetic energy as a round from a .50 caliber machine gun. The force of the impact would likely break the neck and probably fracture the skull.
The Humans in Feathered Heart just opened a can of marine corps whoop ass, and the griffins in the story are like, what in the fuck just happened?
I was like. You hear that sound? That's the sound of a the face of warfare in Equestria changing forever. Yes, as a matter of fact, it does sound like "AMERICA! FUCK YEAH!"
Now, military fanwanking aside, I was a little turned off by the poor fire discipline the Marines were showing. I like to think that in a combat situation marines are professionals who act like professionals and don't say things like boom headshot, but it's a relatively minor gripe, and can probably be handwaved as nerves when confronting magical nonhuman foes. Plus having never actually BEEN in a combat situation with Marines, I freely admit I might not know my head from my ass in this situation.
3110118
I say let them have their fun. They got shipped off without any serious expectation of a fight, and suddenly they get to have a turkey-shoot with a bunch of zombie kitties. Besides, it's not like they're taking any return-fire yet.
3110093
... then explode? (I know, you said they wouldn't).
3110118
What 3110140 said. Though I have to add, they only started mouthing off when the immediate threat was down or slowly crawling up. Rest of the time, they were silent.
Also, welcome back. ^_^ When was the last time I saw you here?
3110129
Maybe Brennan. He was interested in the Zombies thing. Marco may join in except... well, man down.
3110140 That's a piss poor attitude for professional to take, man. You do it by the numbers every time, in training, in the real thing, because laxity leads to lives being lost. Like I said though, it certainly isn't a deal breaker for me... I'm willing to admit that it might be a bit over critical, but I respect the author and I LIKE the story and I wouldn't be a very good reader if I didn't give an honest critique. I think that Laharl can survive a little well meant criticism.
3110093 The boom headshot stuff was during the firefight, and the firefight wasn't DONE, because they hadn't secured their perimeter. If anything that's a dink on their sergeant, and Imlay struck me as way too much of a professional to let that slide, but again, I stress that this is a minor quibble.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.
AAAAAAAAAAAH.
EEEEEEEEH.
good stuffs
3110186
Corporal. No sergeant was present. And no problem about the minor quibble thing.
For my part, most of what I gotten from the Marines are from books and Generation Kill, who also mouthed off when they were in a firefight. Also, Eratosthenes. XD
Granted, the one in GK that mouthed off was a bit of a psychopath ("Did you see that? I blew his knee out!"), was kinda excited to fire his weapon (after having not fired it once after entering Iraq), and in a Humvee, so yeah, could be different situation altogether.
3110211
Hmm... fair enough. For some reason I was thinking Imlay was a sergeant. My bad. Having known a few Sergeants I could see one riding herd on that group pretty fast, but a corporal might be a little slower to exert authority.
Generation Kill was a pretty decent series, but believe it or not, the guys the series was based on were kind pissed at how they were portrayed, and I should stress that what people do in a TV series meant for entertainment is likely to be rather different than a real combat situation. I LIKED Generation Kill, and again, I have no combat experience myself, I'm just like you in that respect. I was in the Navy and we talked shit ALL the time. And again, what people do for entertainment etc. etc., so like I said... it doesn't ruin anything for me. It certainly doesn't break my willing suspension of disbelief.
I don't know if anyone pointed this out yet, but while I agree on a general strategic level with holding the abilities of human warfighters close to the chest, on a more detailed strategic and tactical level it's fucking dumb.
I'm surprised that Gilda was the only one staring dumbfounded at the weaponry. If you're allied or working closely with a particular nation, you WANT them to know what you can do. You WANT them to know about your weapons, your abilities, your medicines and support/communication equipment. You want them to know that. What happens if it was a group of dragons that ambushed them in the air? Can you imagine the insanity of these gryphons suddenly having 'thunder-sticks' going off behind them? They would have dropped out of the sky just in initial shock. It would have made more sense to sit down pre-mission and go over the general idea of these items - not range, muzzle velocity, etc ... just 'it sounds like this, bad guys lose limbs, everyone wins' type of thing. Also, 'don't get in front of the end with a hole' and other gun safety would have been a good idea.
Sorry, I was wanting to say this last chapter but I forgot until now. I just can't see sending out a combined security force where one side isn't aware of what the other can do.
3110211>>3110230
...Yeah, I do believe I did mention the wisecracking Marines might be a bit much, didn't I Sally?
I'd suggest not using that trope altogether often, even if it makes the Marines seem mechanical in nature. It's fine for them to wisecrack and goof off when they're not on duty, but when they are on duty (especially when they're in live-or-die combat situations) they should act pretty much exactly like the Canterlot Royal Guards—a coordinated group of highly-trained well-oiled warfighting machines.
3110178
They don't typically explode... at least not from hitting a relatively soft target like a human head. Yeah, I know that healthy bone—such as the skull—is typically stronger than concrete... but it's also a thinner than a concrete slab, not fixed in a stationary position, and cushioned by soft tissue and fluid.
...However, after hitting the skull, one of these two things would typically happen:
1.) The impact causes the rocket to tumble out of control and it eventually hits something hard (like the ground), and the warhead detonates on impact.
2.) The impact causes the rocket to tumble out of control and it eventually hits something hard (like the ground), but the warhead does not detonate on impact due to a malfunction.
Number one is dangerous, for sure, but number two is even more dangerous because even though the rocket malfunctioned (probably the fuse) and didn't detonate, the warhead inside is still live and dangerous, and it could detonate without warning from a sudden disturbance, basically turning the failed rocket into an impromptu improvised explosive device that could remain operational for years after fighting in the area ceases.
i.qkme.me/3se6b7.jpg
3110381>>3110230
I know it might seem a little undisciplined, but at some point, you have to let DEL write his own story. I got no problem with a couple of Marines hamming it up for the reader every now and then. It's an acceptable break from reality as long as he doesn't go overboard.
Hell, Imlay even lampshades it a little when he tells Anderson to quit fucking off and do his job.
3110330
In my mind it's more of an issue with higher-ups and cross-cultural silliness. The humans were basically told, "Don't go around bragging about how much better our shit is than theirs, but if anyone asks, it's not exactly top-level state secrets." (especially considering they'll just be able to look it up on the internet once they start visiting Earth) Meanwhile, the griffins are basically thinking, "Well, we don't want to insult them by just asking about it."
That's just me, though. DEL may have something entirely different in mind.
3110230
Surprising, considering one of them (Rudy "Fruity" Reyes) starred in it, and he and Person were consultants.
Also, have to point out again, the line I used was both in the book and series. Its something I like to do if there are two source materials when it comes to it. Just in case one medium isn't as good as the other.
3110330
^_^ That's for next chapter, really.
3110381
Let me have my fun, spoilsport.
SDHMKLZDUNKNAETH;LAETNLZJIOPp:ZHN!!@!!
3110404 3110474
3110456
Eh, its fine. We're all good, dude.
Also, maybe its time to point out how that is kinda like how I write and do characters. "Man, that doesn't sound like that's how they roll, but its plausible." Kinda like life. I think that's what makes things organic.
A little bit of both, actually. I'm hoping the next chapter can explain it.
I will be honest, I was expecting a Resident Evil reference from one of the human.
Anyway, an epic chapter, and one hell of a plot point.
3110456
At some point one should also let the author speak for their own story and respond to criticism themselves.
That said, great story and a good chapter (though I tend to agree with those that spoke about the firing discipline). Keep up the good work.
3110503
I don't think they noticed that the grass lions were either dead or decaying. They just... saw a threat and dealt with it.
3110518
I was gone. XD For a while. Anyways, glad you're enjoying the story too, minor quibbles aside.
All we need now is Invictus, and I'll have a matched set.
3110518 3110456
At some point this really doesn't need to become a battle in the comments about how I was teasing my friend who happens to be the author and then thought that, as one of his "auctorial advisers", I should share with him an earnest suggestion as to how he might prevent a possible future issue in regards to the characterization of US Marines.
i think it fits...
Also, I feel I am obligated to post this.
i711.photobucket.com/albums/ww118/AAKRON/tumblr_m0j4fkFQMR1r1ltgj.gif
3110518>>3110563
Hehe maybe I did get a little carried away (I'm a prereader too). I just couldn't resist the chance to play a little devil's advocate
HELL YES! Its finally time for us to show the griffins how to properly kick ass! Can't wait till we start seeing some vehicles (Abrams and apaches please?) arriving.
That was hella fun, I've been looking forward to the weapon capabilities reveal.
I am a little surprised about the limited number of casualties in the crashed coach, with it falling out of the sky like that I wasn't really expecting any of them to not be very, very dead.
3110456
... I can totally see that - but only to an extent. It feels a bit more 'don't talk' then 'don't brag' because the gryphons had no hints. But ok yeah, I can still kinda see that and it does explain some things. I'll wait for Demon to do his thing and go
unrustle my jimmies... I dunno, unrustle my jimmies I guess. They don't feel particularly rustled but you never know.Thanks for that insight.
3110552
If that is true then that is some pretty bad obliviousness. Plus there was also the two dead gryphons that started attacking the. Also Gilda did pretty much set it up when she said to aim for the head.
3110582
The beginning line sounds... traditional, yet still cool. I wish I could write a bit like that.
3110591
... is that... Uh... that Assasin in 3?
3110634
A little snag there. Explained next chapter.
3110636
I think credit goes to the dead griffins that came back to life... and got killed again afterwards.
No good deed, indeed.
3110643
Haha, true. Maybe next chapter, once the whole thing
diesstays down.