NationStates Jolt Archive

Tarlachia, 2150 AD.

It has been two months since the disappearance of the beloved ruler, Sigrun Greenwood. It has been fifteen days since the Prime Minister, Arleni Greenwood, stunned the nation with the news of Sigrun’s departure from this world. Throughout the nation rumblings were felt as political parties shifted into high gear, each demanding their time to hold the public’s ear. Three parties have risen to the top, each showing relatively equal strength, and threaten to divide the nation into thirds.

Hailing from the capital city of Turath, one party consisting primarily of humans desiring a return to democracy as seen in time of President John Marshall. Three-star General Marco Campin leads this party with a strong voice and noble ideals.

From the exquisite Aria Forests, the elves have joined together in support of a continuation of the Greenwood monarchy. Arleni Greenwood is their voice to the people of Tarlachia. They have gathered the support of the elves and many of the traders. Many non-elven citizens listen to their words, giving support for their cause.

Yet, as well known as these two parties are, there is yet another. From the southwestern realm of the Grendals, a new voice has risen, rapidly gaining momentum to challenge the two other strongest parties. Leading this front is an unknown man by the name of Carrick Ranci. Already, Ranci has garnered the support of not only the Grenals, but also the much feared forces of the Moonwalkers, more commonly known as vampires. Now, Ranci courts the ear of the Dramen, a small yet powerful civilization in the western mountains of Tarlachia. But he is not alone. The elves too seek the support of the Dramen kinfolk; using the familiarity of Sigrun with their kind.

Civil unrest now spreads like a fire across a land caught in the snares of a terrible drought, a drought that can only be eased with a strong unifying leader for the citizens of Tarlachia. Until then, a civil war shall soon become a reality. With three sides to this impending conflict, this war will be bloody, and many shall suffer.Yet, like any war there is one steadfast truth.

To the victor, go the spoils…

_________________________________________________________________

There is a great disturbance once again in the world. This time, it strikes closer to home, in the very halls of Turath. Sigrun is gone now, and already I can see the rapid dissolution of all that he has built. Is this all his work is good for? A mere memory in the passing of time; when the keeper of the strength of Tarlachia is gone? What will we have left then? My people have pushed for the continuation of the Greenwood line on the throne, and I am the next in line. But, there is a problem. Should I take the throne, there is a dark promise that the very nation of which I shall take helm of, shall dissolve into the murky depths of a terrible civil war. I am greatly troubled, and the prospects that have stepped forth from the other parties are nowhere as experienced as I, nor as knowledgeable of the workings of government behind the closed doors of governmental structures. They would bring chaos, and ultimately destruction. This I can foresee, and this, I fear. I love Tarlachia and I cannot just stand aside and watch it fall to the scavengers. I know the humans are strong, but they have several weaknesses. I need only the right time to strike and gain the support of the vast majority of citizens in Tarlachia in one single overpowering blow. The other party, led by Carrick Ranci, troubles me more than I would like. Ranci emits an uncanny strength in his words and actions. I wonder if he is something else, something more than a mage of a forgotten and nearly extinct culture. Who is he? Sure, he answers to the name of Ranci to the world, but I know there is another name that he goes by, one that is uttered rarely. Such is the way of the Grenals.

A lizard zipped across the windowsill and froze in the warm basking sunlight, savoring the heat in its cold-blooded body. Arleni watched the lizard scurry away on whatever important mission it had in mind. Her gaze soon returned to the southwestern horizon, just beyond the gates of Turath. A dark horizon had gathered from that direction, a storm brewing over the sea and poised to pass over the land. It was a sign she knew, a sign of dark times to come.

“My lady. General Campin is here to see you.” Arleni turned and nodded to the servant whom held the door open for the military figure. “My lady,” the general greeted with a bow, “It is good to see you again.”

“I told you already. I will not join you under your policies. I have sworn long before you were conceived to uphold the truth of Tarlachia’s legacy.”

Campin was quick to reply,“That legacy is dead Arleni. Sigrun is gone. His reign is all the prophecy foretold.” She glared at him, “You dare insult me and the wisdom of the elders?! I’ll have you know that I am the next in line, and I will take the throne at the right time. No sooner, no later.” She marched closer to him, getting eye to eye. “And when I do, I swear to you General; I will have your support, or I will have your head.”

He swallowed slightly, exhaled and changed the subject, “I did not come here for politics, Arleni. I came here to share with you some information I have come across. It concerns our mutual rival.” She backed off and let him continue with a wave of her hand. He took the opportunity to seat himself in the window. “I’ve sent some men into the Grenal realm to dig up some information on our Ranci fellow. They’ve come back with stories of strange shadows, of an unknown language spoken amongst only a few elite Grenals. Something is going on there, and we don’t know what.”

“I could have told you that already, Campin. You’re three days behind on your intelligence.” Arleni informed him as she shook her head, “You cannot possibly hope to win this office with such horrid intelligence, do you? As for Ranci, I am aware of his secrecy. Even elves cannot find out what I wish to know, what I wish to hold as a bargaining chip against Ranci.” She turned and picked up a book on Tarlachian history. “We are both forced to wait until Ranci decides to reveal more.”

Campin nodded slowly, not liking the situation at all. He was about to speak again, but he was interrupted, “Goodbye Campin. I’ve given you the audience you requested. It is clear you carry no more than old news and false hopes. Be gone from my sight.” She glared at him, “Now.” Campin complied and departed the room, returning to his transport that waited outside. Several minutes later, Arleni watched as the transport hovercraft maneuvered out of the capital and back onto the road to Romia City. Pitiful. I still don’t know how he managed to become a general in the first place. It astounds me. she mused to herself, before turning indoors once more.

"Quietly, and I do mean quietly get us all the information on Carrick Ranci" Mercedez looked at the dossiers before her with a small frown. "And we have been keeping excretable tabs on HRH Arleni and General Campin. Remedy this"

"Yes your Highness"

Mercy rolled her eyes as the section chief hurried from the spacious office. Standing orders were not to use her title, but some couldn't seem to break themselves of the formality.

She called up a holomap of Fatal Terrain and studdied it closely. If Tarlachia falls into civil unrest, how are the rest of our neighbors going to react?' She mused. FT had been quiet for many generations and in truth Tanaara had been rather standoffish with their neighbors. 'Until Cats Keep arrived, they yelled for help,Tanara answered, met Sigrun and what in the Universes name was the Empress thinking, gave them entre in to space....Well it allowed us to come out of the closet so to speak. She thought as she made connection with the royal palace in Montgard, her Majesty's private comm.

"Holli, I need to see you this evening. There is trouble brewing. Dinner? Damn you're going to make me dress up and show me off to potential marriageables." She listened dutifully and sighed heavily. "Yes your Majesty"

***********************************************
I feel change in the wind, and it has an unpleasant odor about it. I ask for more knowledge and find myself saddened. Sigrun is gone, and his going seems to have broken something. His Tarlachia, the focus of all his work is splintering.

I listen through the shadows, Stepping between them to over hear what I can. Three different groups have formed, none of them seeming care much about unity, and far too much about power.

Shaking my head, and tired after the day's efforts I make one last Step, going home to all that is left of Cats Keep. I am often lonely but I can not fault my people in their need, their desire, to reutrn to the Realm of Shadow. I was most welcome to have returned with them, but I knew I could not. My efforts during Kiroval's Conception Ritual bound me too much to this world. Here I am and here I will stay.

But I will watch from the shadows, listen to the wind. My few thousand acres should be of interest to no one I chuff sharply at that notion. War respects no one and no thing. If it slips outside Tarlachia's boundries...

OOC: Imitora, this thread is open to all members of Fatal Terrain to join, as it will probably have international tremors... Also, the timeline and tech level doesn't necessarily mean you can't participate.

IC:
A chilly breath spiraled visibly through the air dissipating within moments. The man seated in the old worn armchair was clearly at unease with the one whose displeasure he feared beyond anything else. He was in his mid-thirties by appearance, but eternally set until his forced death sometime in the future. Quivering lips revealed elongated canines for the briefest of moments. He nervously watched as the cigar was puffed upon next, then slowly and methodically extinguished before being placed down on a small ceramic dish. The boss’s gravely voice broke the silence. “You may speak.”

At once, the man cleared his throat and spoke quickly. “Senior Elder Grakeni states that he will consider your proposal. He gives it a 70% chance that he’ll accept it, but he wishes to discuss it with the rest of the elders throughout the remaining clans.”

The boss behind the desk nodded. “Very well. How long until we hear from them?”
“At least a week.” The vampire replied. He winced slightly as the boss scowled, “Though, I can demand a reply in three days. They should swing that way if I tell them of your urgency.”

“Make it happen. What about the elves?”

The vampire swallowed slightly. This had been the feared question that he knew was coming. “I noticed a few horses grazing nearby. They all had horse blankets that were elvish design. I counted six of them.”

“And the elves?”

“Nowhere in sight, though I presume they’re there to speak to Grakeni as well.”

The boss mused over this as he turned about in his chair to look upon a photograph of a sword on fire. The blade had been covered in some flammable liquid, then set ablaze in an angry red flame. The vampire knew it was the boss’s favorite picture, though he didn’t know why. He was smart enough to not ask. Finally, after several minutes of silent thought, the boss turned and eyed the vampire. “Leave them be. Instead, I want you to find out what they’ve got on the table. Diminish it. Destroy it. Leave nothing for them to bargain with.” He pointed at the man, “I want their support, and I will get it.” He stood and crossed his arms behind his back. His cool penetrating gaze watched as the vampire rose and respectfully bowed. As the vampire was about to open the door to leave, the boss called to him.“Vladimir. Remember; get their support one way or another. I will accept nothing short of this. The reign of the elves is over.”

Vladimir nodded, “Yes, Boss Ranci.” The door clicked shut quietly behind him.

Ranci lowered a hand to press a button on the telephone. A moment later, a feminine voice replied, “Yes?”

“Meet me in my office.”

“Be right there, love.”

Almost as soon as the finger lifted from the button, the western wall of the office shimmered slightly. Two hands pulled apart the air, and were followed by a striking redhead with jade eyes. She wore an all-black full length dress that had a low scoop. She smiled as she laid her eyes upon Ranci. He returned the smile. “Have they joined us yet?”

He shook his head negatively. “No, but they will soon. Vladimir will make sure of it. The whelp is more than enough terrified of what I will do to him if I don’t get what I want.”

She chuckled as she traced a lingering hand across his chest, “Oh, I’m sure. But you know, I don’t fear your wrath. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—vent that wrath upon me.” A dainty, dark tail flicked from underneath her dress and slid across his calf gingerly.
“Of course not. You’ve proven yourself many times over all these years. I have nothing to fear from you, my dear.” He stroked her cheek. “However, should Vladimir not obtain that which I require, then I want you to fix the problem.”

She nodded in understanding. “It’s been a long time coming. The Elite will learn their mistake for what they’ve done.”

“Yes. Very much so.” He replied darkly, his eyes blazing over as he allowed his anger to consume his mind. Her soft touch returned him back to the moment. Her free hand clamped down upon the desk where a small blaze had been feeding upon the wood. Smoke issued from under her fingers.

“Careful. Wouldn’t want to get the fire brigade in here, would you?” she grinned as she placed a kiss upon his lips. “In due time, my love, you’ll have what you desire. It has always been so. Sigrun is gone now, and that elven bitch will not last long. Nor her hybrid daughter.”

His eyes lightened up at the coy mention of the elves. A pat on her cheek was given, “You are rather devious.”

And something unseen, an essence of shadow within the deepershaows of an unobserved corner, ..a shimmer and was gone

I Stepped thirteen times in near instantaneous suscession. With two pass through the sanctuary of St. Peter's Bassilicia - despite the Holy Auras which left me, pagan that I am, shaking and drained. That would be one huge trail muddier if I have by some fashion been noticed and a tracing attempted.

"What in H..." I closed my mouth with a snap, unwilling to make that invocation after what I had just observed. I leaned agains the railing of the balcony and let my energy trickle back. Once I was renewed, MBC, Smug and I went about reinforcing the wards. Reinforcing them till they nearly glowed to the naked eye, a normal's naked eye at that.

Once I felt minutely more prepared, I poured a large brandy and sat down to confer with my friends. And think -alot.

I had no idea why...no that was wrong I had a basket full of possible play outs for why one of the Abyssals..and I didn't like most of them...again wrong ...I didn't like any of them.

“Atten-hut!” came the cry as soldiers scurried with a well-practiced haste to stand at attention. From the end of the barracks, General Campin marched dutifully to the center of the room. He looked around at the soldiers with a cool gaze before clearing his throat. “At ease.” The subordinates returned to their seats, their attention fully focused upon the senior commanding officer.

“Gentlemen. As you know there is a situation brewing right now at home. You know what I am using as my political platform. I won’t lie to you. Tarlachia needs a democracy again. We were progressing at an advanced rate in civilian and military technology back in the days of our ancestors under President John Marshall. Since Sigrun’s takeover, this has slowed to the point where foreign nations are now capable of outperforming us in quite a number of fields. Our economy has been lackluster, although still strong. Only a proper democracy will return us to what we need.”

He took a moment to look about at the clean-shaven men in front of him. They were elite soldiers, his most trusted troops known as the Alpha Shades. Selected through a rather particular filter of traits at a young age and delivered into the hands of military trainers; these were the finest military troops at the disposal of Tarlachia’s government. They were quite proficient in several martial arts, all were sniper-class shooters, each could hack into most of the world’s toughest systems in a matter of minutes, and together they had performed a number of black ops successfully throughout the world. Like shades of shadow, they were there, and then they were gone. They left no trace, save for their work completed. Their identities were super-secret. Even then, their original names had been erased, replaced by a military moniker known only to their teammates and authorized commanding officers.

A holograph was activated, beams emitting from several points in the wall. With an outstretched hand, Campin pointed and proceeded to brief his men.

“Situated here is what intel says is the HQ of Carrick Ranci. We’ve been unable to secure photographs from either satellites or otherwise in order to verify this. Each time we try, there’s some sort of invisible fog in place. However, we’re quite confident this is where Ranci is, and your job will be to eliminate this threat. Ranci’s up to no good, and his work is unsettling even the Prime Minister.”

A few shifts were noticed as the Shades heard this. Supposedly, the prime minister was an unshakable rock, always cool and confident, her commands precise and articulate. Campin cleared his throat to call their attention back again, although it was unnecessary.

“Primary objective is to locate and neutralize all operations running under Ranci’s platform. Everything is to be halted, prevented from running again. Secondary objective, locate sensitive information that may relate to his goals. He’s up to something, and I want to know yesterday. This operation will be code-named ‘Grapes of Wrath’ and will be green light at twenty-thirty hours tonight.”

Looking around at the faces of the Shades Company, he nodded to them. “Give ‘em hell boys, and I’ll see personally to a pay bonus like you’ve never seen before, not that any of you need money.”

A scattered laughter filled the room before all subordinates stood at attention once more. Campin gave them another nod, then took the disk from the wall and deposited it into the incineration chamber nearby. Promptly it completely destroyed the disk and all information on it. Seconds later, he disappeared through the doorway, leaving the men to begin preparations.

"No Holli, not another dinner. I feel like a lamb staked out for wolves and I don't like it." Mercy's voice had no laughter in it. She was dead serious and she didn't care if she was refusing the wishes of her monarch. "I've just recieved the expanded reports on Tarlachia, and I'm going to be working very late tonight."

She listened to Her Majesty's reply, her lips beginning to curve in a small smile. "That's what you pay me all these decans for....and don't worry 'mom' I'll find somebody, someday." 'Not. I found him and he didn't feel the same, but I don't think there will be any one else for me' She couldn't tell her friend that. No, she didn't dare let her know how lonely she was.

Once she'd signed off Mercy shook her head, buried her heartache away and turned back to work. Less than two hours later she issued orders under her own authority to place Tanaara on a much higher alert than they had in some time.

"And get me a FTL commo through to Tanara. We need to let them know whats going on in Tarlachia." She requested.

Fall of Athens, 0550 Standard Mean Space Time

James rolled right hard, dodging the incoming fist, dropping to the ground. His hand found the grip of the M5C Handgun, and it came up, its built in laser dot centering on the mass of the attacker. He squezed the trigger five times in quick succesion, sending out five of the 12.7mm jacketed hollow point rounds, watching as blood splashed from the open wounds on his target. But it kept comming. He forced himself to his feet, glancing around for a new weapon, something with more power. He had no idea where he was, it was a dark room, with no windows or doors or light, just a floor, him, and his attacker. He was never able to get a clear look at the man, but he did know one thing: He wasn't human.

He began backstepping, trying to find a wall he could use for leverage. The dark figure just continued closer, hising, dripping with blood, looking for its meal. Fangs hovered over James, he could feel the cold breath against his neck. He felt the pain, the sting, the driving force of two razor sharp teeth ripping into his neck...

Only the strongest will survive
Lead me to heaven when we die
I'll am the shadow on the wall
I'll be the one to save us all

Lance Corpral, First Class, James Gibbson shot up in the bed, his body covered with damp sweet, the sheets soaked with it. He looked around the dark room quickly, his training taking over, his eyes looking for a target to mark. However, the only target was the radio blaring music, and the other men and women in his unit forcing themselves out of bed. Breaking Benjamin wailed on about an epic battle on the radio, and a pair of legs landed next to James.

"Dios Mio Jimmy, how can you listen to that crap. Damnit man, gotta get some good music in here." The voice, much like the legs, was strong, yet distinctly feminine. The tanned legs belonged to Petty Office Tanya Cortez, the platoon's medic. Her slightly accented voice was accomponied by a soft smile, and a wink as she strolled towards the showers.

"Yeah men, this is the shit right here!" another grunt said, walking over and pushing a rap card into the music player.

James rolled to his right, pushing himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of MI black trousers. He slid them on, and clicked on the thigh holster, grabbing his M5C and slipping it into the holster. He shook his head, and stood, his athletic frame holding him up well as he searched for his shirt in the light. His eyes had always been slow to adjust between dark and light, something that had plauged him constantly durring basic and boot camp.

"Bad dreams again bud?" Private Connor O'Connly asked. The unit's sniper, he and Gibbson had been close friends since the bus ride to Ft. Dekworth, the Imitora Marine Corp's cheif bootcamp. James had advanced faster than the sniper, but they both acted as if they were the same rank, and in many cases, ignored rank.

"Yeah, same one."

"Aight man, lets go get some grub, we can talk about it then."
_

Northampton, Imitora

"So what is the general idea?"

"None of the possible candidates really seem to offer anything Imitora would prefer in office. Most of them are the same, generic, weak willed types that we would be better off just glassing. Of course, that has been the repeated thought for the past years of just about every Fatal Terrain nation."

The two men speaking were two of the most powerful men in Imitora: The Commandant General of the Imitoran Marines, General Commandant Deavon Niven, and The High Marshall of Imitora, Davis Grave. Ever since The Great Rebelion, Imitora had been a military monarchy in the true sense. There was no bicameral legislature, no independent judiciary, no stagered but fair and regular elections, none of the like. There was the High Marshall, and no one else.

"Very well, General," the High Marshall spoke, turning to look out the window of the Presidential Mansion. He looked out over the bustling city of Northampton. "You are dismissed."

The General left, leaving Grave alone. Or at least, he thought he was alone. A dark voice flowed from behind him in the shadows, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. "You know, you really should treat the General with more respect. You wouldn't want to have to ask me to put down another coupe, would you?"

Grave did everything in his power to not shudder. "I could hold this position without you easily enough."

"I doubt that. Close the blinds, would you?"

Grave did so, truely fearing what the man in the room could do to him. With the blinds closed, the room fell dark, and the voice stepped out of the shadows. "Good. I'm glad you've decided to play nice today. Now, what do you think about the situation in Tarlachia?"

"I agree with the General," Grave replied nervously.

"I knew you would say that. You know why?" The voice didn't even give Grave the chance to ask. "Becuase I knew that you would think I would agree, seeing me as a power player and all. But I don't."

The voice seemed to travel from one side of the room to the other, going from shadow to right in Grave's face, fangs bared, his words more hiss than language. "You don't gain my power and ability and prestige being a God damned yes man! Think for yourself for once!"

Grave froze, tense in fear. "Uh, yes, sir. Yes. What do you think, sir?"

The voice calmed. "Send in an operative, try to infiltrate one of the groups, and pump them for information."

"Very well. That is a better idea, now that I think of it. Any ideas of who?"

"I have prepared a list of personel I believe would be best prepared to handle this operation. Make sure it does not fail."

Grave went from frightend to angry. Never once had he failed an operation, all his missions had been carried off without a hitch. His cheeks flushed with blood. "Damn you! I have never failed a single mission, my record is flawless! I will end you beast!" he shouted, throwing the curtains and blinds open. The room was flodded with light, empty save for him. The voice was gone. Grave wondered if he had even ever been in the room in the first place. He sighed, and collapsed into his chair, noticing a large folder on his desk. It hadn't been there before the convorsation.

He locked the door to his office, and began going through the names.

Kaylinde frowned as she listened to the report Mercy had compiled. She wasn't in the best of moods as it was. This was something she herself had to handle, and the report had arrived just in time to interupt some of the Empress's rare, very private time with her family.

"No I don't want anything more than another letter of condolence and support for the nation, who is our good friend and ally." She briskly advised the Minister of State.

Once he was off the comcast she keyed in a code known only to her. *Perigrine, head to Earth, Tarlachia may blow up on us. You should still have the arming codes. If it becomes necessary I want every ship Michiko gave them reduced to their component atoms. Keep me updated, you have complete authority. Take the five oh first with you, station them in Tanaara, just as 'I'll sleep better' back up - and thats me who will sleep better.*

The face on the other end of the comcast just nodded, and the conection ended. Perigrine Omega was the senior most of the Empress's Hands, and she'd just been turned loose.

The Five oh First wouldn't have been her first choice, but she could work with them. They were completely upgraded, their mechs three full generations beyond the latest variants of the Wrathchilds, Rex II:AS of Tarlachia. And they needed no urging to kick butt and not ever worry about names.

President Arthur Stahler had died suddenly of a heart attack barely two weeks after the vampire attack on the capital city of Clarence in the Golden Simatar. Vice-President Paul Mirren had taken over. He stood at 5’11 with dark brown hair and at 49 it was just beginning to show grey. His light brown eyes turned to the two figures in his office; both garbed in back and were near a roaring fireplace. Mirren walked forward and stared at the man.

“So, do you know where the fuck Greenwood is?” He demanded. The new of the departure of Sigrun Greenwood had surprised the region and the future of Tarlachia, the Golden Simatar’s closest ally was uncertain. Mirren was a slightly impatient man and wanted answers immediately.

The man stared into the fire; his cobalt blue eyes reflected the flicker of the fire. “I don’t know Mr. President.”

That didn’t sit well with Mirren. “God dammit Malone you were one of his closest friends you must know something!”

Stephen Malone (http://groups.msn.com/WeatheredImagination/nationstates.msnw?action=ShowPhoto&PhotoID=250) stared at the President. The Golden Simatar’s first vampire had learned of Sigrun’s departure long before most probably did. Along with that, news of his vampire teacher and Assington Ancient Skadi had left too had surprised him, though news of Skadi would probably never go to more than a half dozen people. Stephen remembered the parchment carried to him by a falcon written in a smooth, delicate Elvin hand telling him of Sigrun’s and Skadi’s departure; the letter would forever be burned into his immortal mind. It had hurt him greatly and he still felt a slight kick in the gut, he doubted it would ever go away, yet he found peace in the fact Sigrun and Skadi were together. “I was only told he departed the world Mirren. I am happy for him.”

“Happy? What the fuck do you mean happy?” The human shouted.

Stephen sighed. He didn’t like Mirren, the man was a prick who had originally wanted to toss him and his wife Nicole (http://jamesbond.ugo.com/girls/rp/pike.jpg) out of the country the first chance he could. Thankfully he hadn’t yet. Mirren also had no idea what it was like being immortal, no human could. “You must understand, Sigrun has been around for centuries. He was several centuries older than I am. Immortality slowly takes a toll on someone, thankfully I haven’t experienced that yet. Sigrun also fought many battles and killed hundreds if not thousands…everyone gets tired of killing and war. Where ever he is I know he is at peace and is happy, which is why I am glad.”

“Oh lade fucking da.” Mirren said as he moved around the room. “While he is sipping tequila in some place his country is going to shit. Have you heard what the fuck is going on?”

“Yes we have Mirren.” A female voice said. Nicole sat in a chair while her husband stood near her. The vampiress looked at Mirren. “We have the Greenwoods, some army general looking for democracy, and some nutcase courting the vampire race and others.”

“Question is who are you supporting?” Stephen asked.

“General Campin of course. I prefer democracy over a monarchy any day.” Mirren said.

Stephen shook his head. “I don’t consider that wise Mr. President considering all that the Greenwoods have done. Consider this, I lived her as a vampire for several centuries before being uncovered. I lived in a nation who didn’t believe in vampires. Guess what…vampires seemed to like that idea. Sigrun helped watch our borders during a lot of this time and thankfully he did or else we would still be embroiled in war against my kind. Sigrun was also popular here too…he gained a lot of support from our military, law enforcement, and countless politicians after he began to send help to teach humans about immortals. We owe the Greenwoods big time.”

Mirren gritted his teeth, the vampire had a good point and he hated him for it. There were many powerful Congressmen, military leaders, and civilians who like the Greenwood monarchy. Tarlachia also was fairly peaceful with them in charge. “Alright, you made your point. But, if that nutcase Ranci begins to harass our citizens over there and Arleni doesn’t do anything I am sending in Special Forces to grease his ass.”

Stephen stared at Mirren. “That would be unwise. No one seems to know where he is and might I add that will sour relations between us and the Tarlachians. Not only that, you will be inviting a massacre as we don’t seem to have the ability to launch a successful offensive against vampires. Just saying you support the Greenwoods and offer help will be enough. Nicole and I will go to Tarlachia and hopefully talk to Arleni and get an answer or two.”

The vampires were halfway across the room before Mirren spoke again. “Alright, just keep that damn dog of…”

Mirren saw Stephen at the door and felt a great pressure on his throat and began to gag and choke. He blinked in surprised and next saw Stephen holding firmly to his throat, his cobalt blue eyes burning into his eyes as the vampire stared at him. His voice bit like an Artic storm. “I am rather fond of Amara…she is the daughter I never had and if I hear of you causing her problems I will crush your brain and make you a vegetable.”

Nicole appeared next to Stephen and stared at Mirren. “I wouldn’t put it past him, or me. I personally will gouge out your eyes and your manhood. Clear?”

Mirren nodded and Stephen released him. The human fell gagging to floor and it took him a full minute to recover. By the time he looked up, the vampires were gone. Mirren moved to a table on the wall and poured himself some brandy and seated himself behind his desk.

“God I hate vampires.”

If there was one place within Fatal Terrain that none ever entered it was barren wasteland known as Arithon. The demonic nation itself didn't actually exist within the region, or even the univserse. Such a place could only be outside this realm, sealed away in a place that was not readily accessed. At least not from this realm of existence.

The borders of Arithon marked on any Fatal Terrain map still held significance though. Out of all the places in the world, the ethereal barrier between worlds was weakest here. The very essence of the demonic nation could leak through here and as a result the land was dead. Upon venturing into this land one could forget all they knew of worldly things, the rules didn't apply here.

The manifestation of Arithon on this world was real, the barrier grows weaker every day and it's becoming more common to see creatures of darkness lurking about land of molten rock, sulfur and jagged cliffs.

As the nation was enshrouded in arcane barriers, the happenings within the borders are usually not privy to the surrounding nations and so none would notice two figures idly standing by one of the many lava lakes population the wasteland.

Lord Arithon and his highest ranking demon Lord, Nez'gah stood in silence for some time as they scried recent events of the world around them. Arithon felt it necessary to be knowledgable in the events of the mortal world, especially of those so close to the gateway. The events within Tarlachia were of particular concern considering the recently elven dominated nation bordered Arithon.

"Sigrun is dead... of his own accord."

"I noticed. Tarlachia will fall to pieces now...."

"I trust you were expecting this my lord?"

"Somewhat, yes. There are forces at play here beyond the understanding of all those concerned. It would be in our interested to monitor this carefully, perhaps even act if necessary."

"I assume this means I'll be spending a bit of time up here for a while?"

"Indeed. You'll be going into Tarlachia."

"And if I'm captured? The elves are competent demon hunters, we know very little about their capabilities."

"I know. I would suggest you return to our realm instantly. Don't worry about your form, another can be conjured easily enough."

"I suppose so. I'm just looking for now though?"

"Yes, try not to draw any attention to yourself."

"Of course."

"This Ranci character is the key player. If necessary you may need to make yourself known to him, others will undoubtedly attempt to destroy him. Now go, I have business to attend to."

"Yes, master."

With that said one of the figures turned his back upon the other and slowly began to change as he walked towards the edge of what could only be described as the physical manifestation of Hell in a geographical sense. The figure grew far shorter and a thin layer of skin promptly grew over his form, as organs changed and bones grew. Within minutes a man stood at the border, covered in a common traveller's cloak and looking very much human.

Nez'gah gave his master one last look before stepping through the barrier and into the lands of Tarlachia. The extreme change of scenery was almost disorientating as Nez'gah found himself within a grassy field plagued by sunshine and life.

Arithon merely watched in silence, if things worked out as he hoped then hey may have found a new ally in the mortal world.

Stained Rocks, Tarlachia
2030 hours ; TARL-MIL Time

“Red Fox, moving in.”
“Grey Wolf, moving in.”
“Roger. Perimeter watch secured. Wraith King, sit tight. Watch that exit. All units maintain com silence, starting now.”

Through the flip down display that covered Grizzly’s left eye, he watched as the remote video feeds showed him everything that Red Fox and Grey Wolf were looking at. He glanced sideways for a moment as he saw a movement. It was only a small lizard. Scratching his scruffy face, which hadn’t seen a shave in a day and a half, he looked through the scope of his rifle, scanning the surrounding area of their target. All was clear, no movements.

He could hear the shallow breathing of the two soldiers carefully stalking their way through the corridor of the building. Their night vision scan-screens continuously sought the viewed area with shifts of color indicating each new scan for particular life-breeds. Too quiet. Grizzly thought as he noted the still present movements of the lizard nearby. A second later, the lizard’s head was split in half with a combat knife.

Grey Wolf’s screen suddenly shook violently, then disappeared into a disconnected view. Grizzly’s eyes went wide for a second as he keyed in the screen com, <<GW, status?>> There was no response. Silently he cursed. <<RF, regroup GW.>> He watched as Red Fox slowly turned and made his way back to the room which Grey Wolf had been last. As he entered the room, he felt a chill run down his spine. It was a small room, and Grey Wolf was nowhere to be seen. He too cursed silently as he scanned the room. He did not panic, nor let fear run through his mind. He was too well trained for it. Grey Wolf was obviously gone; there was no retrieving him unless he was found alive for sure. If dead, his body was to be left where it was. There would be no identification, and any investigation would only conclude that at best, Grey Wolf had been nothing more than a rogue mercenary. Mercenaries in this part of Tarlachia weren’t all too common, but there were some small villages to the northwest, near the Dramen borders.

Red Fox turned and made his way back down where he had been last, taking care to sweep the rooms he passed for a second time. Coming upon a door that was solid oak and steel, he opened it slowly and entered the room. Behind the desk that stood in front of him, he let his gaze land upon the flaming sword painting. The chair was turned toward it. Two arms, one on each side could be seen slightly as they were folded inwardly. He raised his rifle and prepared to fire.

“You know, trespassing is a crime on private property.” A voice called out from behind the chair. The rifle lowered ever so slightly. The chair spun slowly, revealing the man sitting there. “I don’t like trespassers.” He waved a hand, “But nevermind that. I’ll let it go if you can give me one good reason why you’ve decided to pay a legitimate visit to my office here?”

Red Fox’s rifle fired once. Expecting to see Ranci’s head recoil backward from the shot, he was surprised to find the bullet being twirled between Ranci’s fingers. He fired again with the same result.

Grizzly watched Red Fox’s screen with rapt attention, also showing some surprise over the results just observed. Twice, Red Fox had fired bullets that were filled with incredibly deadly venom, and twice the bullets ended up in Ranci’s hand, the poison having no effect. What the hell? Even dragons if hit properly with one of those bullets were downed within minutes. Humans should have been much easier. These were the latest bullets for assassination missions; bullets that literally disintegrated and left no trace save for the bullet wound entry which itself was made to look like a snake bite wound. The entire concept was flawless in all tests and proven 100% effective in other assassinations carried out. That was true until now.

Grizzly watched as Ranci rose from his seat and shifted forms. He saw great leathery wings expanding from behind Ranci, he watched as the skin grew to an onyx color, he saw the eyes turn black with red irises, and he saw the teeth sharpen to points; all of them. “Oh my God…” was all he heard from Red Fox. Through Red Fox’s com, he heard Ranci’s response, “God has abandoned you.” Red Fox’s ensuing scream caused Grizzly to swallow hard. He broke com silence, “Wraith King! Get in there!”

Red Fox’s screen ended as the soldier looked down in horror as Ranci’s hands tore through the armor and torso viciously and tore out his heart in one hand, and a hazy low light in the other.

“Your soul shall burn forever.” Was all that was heard from Ranci. Gunfire erupted a nano-second later. Wraith King had arrived in full glory. Ranci’s roar shattered windows nearby and within seconds Wraith King was dead in a similar fashion as Red Fox.

Grizzly’s voice was heard through the com, “All units move in! Hot zone! Hot zone! Eliminate all hostile targets!” He ran a shaking hand through his graying hair as he watched numerous shadowy figures emerge from their places and move in rapidly to their predestined points. Like a well orchestrated fire-team, they swept through the place. But, something was wrong. As Grizzly frantically switched between the screens of his troops, he was dismayed to find those screens just as rapidly falling to faze. Suddenly, a cold voice whispered next to his ear, “Hello handsome.”

Turning rapidly with his rifle, he fired, only to find the gun pulled from his grasp and bent in half. He looked upon the red haired, black skinned female before him. Her tail wrapped around his throat tightening quickly as she growled at him. “A compliment begets a death warrant? How uncouth!” she declared before pulling him forward and delivering a kiss upon the man’s lips. Her teeth locked into his lips, her breath inhaling rapidly. Grizzly shook violently, then collapsed as his soul was devoured. She licked her lips and glared down at the carcass, “Out of your league, boy.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Gnome Base; somewhere in the Tarlachian countryside
Three hours later

“Where the hell is everyone?” Campin cried as he stormed through the barracks of the Shades Company. He slammed open the door to the Shades’ commanding officer’s personal quarters. It was empty as well.

“I don’t know sir.” Replied one of Campin’s aides. “Perhaps they’re still out in the field?”

“No, no. That’d be way too long. Everything was set up to be completed in no more than an hour’s time.” Campin said as he put his hands on his hips. He shook his head, “Something’s wrong.”

He stormed past the aide, heading directly to his office. He would contact Grizzly from the secure line there.

-------------------------------------------------------
Stained Rocks, Tarlachia
2343 hours

“Hey boss. What’s up with the blood all over the place? It looks like some sort of blood rave.”

“Vladimir, even gifted with vampiric abilities, you are dense.” Ranci replied coldly. “What have you got?” He adjusted the clothes he wore. He had returned back to his human form.

Vladimir swallowed, “We’ve got the support of the Dramen, at least half of the clans. The rest have joined up with the elves. Seems even they’re having a civil division of sorts. However, we’ve got most of the stronger clans.”

Ranci nodded, “Very well. We shall make do with that for now.” He held a hand up, “However, I want you to gather as many other vampires as you can. The blood out there is the blood of top secret military troops, all under Campin’s command.”

Vladimir nodded, “You want us to pay Campin a visit.”
Ranci nodded in reply, “It appears that Campin is going to need to be forced into early retirement. Tonight.”

“Consider it done, sir.” Vladimir declared with a sinister smile. He was stopped in his tracks by the look in Ranci’s eyes.

“Vladimir. No mistakes. I’ll be watching.”

Vladimir swallowed tightly,“Yes, boss.”

-----------------------------------------------------
Gnome Base, Tarlachia

The military base lay open to the night sky, surrounded by great electrical fences, some arcane shields and guarded by high-tech surveillance as well as by a number of foot patrols. All was quiet under the pearled moon.

Suddenly, numerous alarms and sirens rang loud and clear into the night sky as soldiers scrambled to their posts, and those present began firing upon the hordes of fast moving creatures advancing rapidly upon the base. Just as the hordes of vampires reached the gates, the entire base suddenly was swamped in darkness as all electricity was cut. The hum of distant generators was silenced seconds later as the arcane shields slowly dissipated to nothing.

Inside the base and deep below ground, General Campin stood in the mess hall. He screamed in frustration before pulling out his pistol and taking an offered flashlight from a nearby soldier. “What the hell’s going on? Why in God’s name are those sirens going off?”

“We’re being attacked sir, from all directions.” Reported a soldier who had his hand to his ear as he listened to the reports.

“Who in the seven hills of holy Rome would dare attack a fully staffed and armed military base of my goddamn country?!” Campin asked in a shocked tone. “Who the hell dismantled the shields and fences?!”

“Vampires, sir. Looks like an inside job as well. We should get you out of here.”

“No fucking way! We’re going to crush these goddamn bloodsuckers. Get all troops out there now! Kill them all, take no goddamn prisoners!” Campin retorted. “By no means are we to give this goddamn base to them!”

Campin moved along with several soldiers as they made their way to the doorway of the mess hall. But before they could reach it, it exploded inward and was momentarily swarmed over by dozens of vampires, all anxious to kill, all baring their fangs as they held various weapons of death from guns to knives. Gunfire erupted with deafening roars. Bodies dropped as Campin found himself slowly being forced into another room. He turned and fled when he realized that his protective troops were dying in strength. Panting heavily as sweat drenched his body, he hurtled down the hallway toward the one place he had in mind. As he reached the entryway, he looked back. The hallway was empty still. A few guns still could be heard echoing down the halls. Slipping inside the room, he activated the security features and ran to the console. He keyed in a few buttons, stated a coded phrase and nearly leapt onto the platform. Within seconds a light blue light swirled about his body and he disappeared from the base.

Over the skies above Gnome Base, great fires raged, sending plumes of thick black smoke into the night sky. Thousands of vampires swarmed the base’s exterior, and hundreds more swept through the base’s underground rooms.

Next to Vladimir, a hand clamped his shoulder, causing him to collapse to the floor. When he looked up with a snarl on his face. His face was covered in blood, his hand holding a shotgun that was aimed upward. However, he stopped as he realized who it was. “Boss.”

“Where is he?” Ranci demanded.

Vladimir shook his head negatively, “Not here sir. He’s escaped through a portal that immediately self-destructed after he used it. We’re not sure where he’s gone to.”

Ranci growled menacingly, “Escaped?! I told you Vladimir that I wanted absolutely no mistakes!”

Vladimir trembled before him, expecting Ranci to end his life there. Instead, Ranci hoisted him to his feet with little effort. Ranci growled to him, “We’ll find him. He’ll have fled to someplace more secure.”

He turned and surveyed the overrun base. None heard his quiet words as he cursed. “Mark my words Campin…your soul’s condemned.”

Nicole parked the silver BMW in a small garage next to a single story farm house. She slid out of the car and waited to Stephen to climb out before locking it. As the pair walked across a grassy field to their barn house, Stephen’s attention was caught by movement in some reeds by a pond a few meters away. He smiled and whistled there was a pause in the rustling before an animal fluttered out from the grass and flew over to the vampires.

Tolkien was an ice blue miniature pincher size ice dragon. Far more dog than dragon and still barely grasping his native tongue the little beast spent much of its time harassing its larger siblings and cuddling a young werewolf named Amara who had become more or less the Malone’s adopted daughter. The dragon fluttered around the two vampires and waited impatiently for them to open the door to the house. Furnished in polished hardwood and marble, the dilapidated exterior was the perfect cover for the small mansion.

Nicole discovered Amara asleep on the couch. Bitten at 18, she would forever be an immortal teenager, something that was bound to cause her problems in the future. The vampiress put a blanket over the werewolf and smiled as she followed Stephen down a stairwell and into a small system of tunnels that connected the main residence, an armory/gymnasium barn, and the ice barn where the Malone’s dragons stayed.

“I’ll get packing…best get Darius, he is the strongest of the pair.” Stephen said to Nicole.

“Alright, you really think we need weapons?”

“You still have years to learn you never go anywhere in the world without some kind of weapon Nicole. With Sigrun’s disappearance I have no idea what kind of hell is brewing in Tarlachia.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you outside.”

A half hour later, Stephen came into the warm night air carrying two black duffel bags with clothes, weapons, and his bloodstone. Nicole was standing next to a dark ice blue, bus sized dragon. Darius was the mate to Stephen’s first dragon Cassandra who was now standing outside, her white scales shining in the moonlight as she watched her mate prepare for the long flight.

Darius turned his eyes to Stephen. “Why all the rush to my homeland?”

“Trouble is brewing Darius. Cassandra doesn’t know much of Tarlachia, we will need your help with that and she has your pups to attend to.” The vampire said.

The dragon nodded. “Alright, climb on. I will get you there before dawn breaks. Where is it you wish to go? Talk to my kind in the mountains or someplace else?”

“Turath Darius…straight to the grounds in front of the castle. We need to speak to Arleni Greenwood about the situation.”

The dragon nodded and the vampires boarded the scaly beast. Darius spread open his wings, pointed himself in the right direction and lifted off towards his home.

Outside Gnome Base, Tarlachia

Nez'gah had always been one to appreciate coordinated destruction of one's enemy and the sight before him caused a razor sharp smile to spread across his human face. Despite all their technology and so called intelligence, humans were nothing particularly special in the great scheme of existence and yet they thought everything revolved around them.

Alarms and screams filled the air as hordes of vampires stormed the human military base, easily breaching the fences and engaging the human guards. Whilst the demon lord thought very little of vampires, at least they were able to do the job effectively, tearing down the human defence and crushing any opposition.

Confident in his own safety, Nez'gah began slowly walking towards the base, not really paying attention to anything around him. Everyone seemed too concerned with killing the enemy to notice a lone cloaked figure walking through the chaos, not calling any attention upon himself. Stepping over corpses every few metres, Nez'gah noted the manner in which the vampires fought. They weren't professional warriors of any sort yet they appeared to be fiercely loyal, most likely through fear. The best way to lead in his opinion.

As he progressed further into the base, Nez'gah began to get in the way of the fighting soldiers, resulting in a multitude of bullets being sprayed in his general direction. Yet to the surprise of those behind the guns, no bullets struck the lone figure as he continued upon his path. Instead the metallic objects merely fell to the ground, as if they'd hit something far denser and stopped in their tracks.

Now withing some of the main buildings, Nez'gah found himself confront by a vampire with a rather nasty looking dagger. Now slowing, the demon lord spoke softly yet loud enough for the vampire to hear.

"You should move, now."

Not having enough sense to know what he was facing, the vampire advanced upon Nez'gah and disappeared in a dull flash. Not a single trace of the vampire remained as Nez'gah continued upon his path. Expanding his demonic aura slightly, those with enough sense would realise to stay away from him and undoubtedly this Ranci character would notice him.

Weaving through the halls and doors, Nez'gah managed to find himself a empty room and promptly sealed the door via arcane means, he didn't want to be disturbed. Sitting upon an empty crate, Nez'gah closed his eyes and focused upon Ranci.

"I suppose you are somewhat curious as to why I am here?"

Perigrine Omega and the five oh first made landfall in Tanaara with no public fanfare, or even knowledge. The Tanaara's had made sure than an old, mothballed base along the border closest to Tarlachia had been readied and was waiting for them, though no Tanaaaran was there to greet them. As per the Tanaran Empress's orders-Tanaara might be long independant of their 'mother' nation but they didn't question those orders.

The five oh first came fully supported, and quietly, little noticed, there were several more capitol ships in orbit about the planet as well. Tanara bore responisbility for taking Tarlachia in to the wider universe. If their gifts went into ...hands unacceptable to the Empire, those gifts would become so much star dust, and if things truly got out of hand, the capitol ships could turn an ofending nation into so much slag. Though that would be an oprion only to save the rest of the planet.

The doings with in Tarlachia came under discrete, but thorough and intense scruitny by a variety of methods. And the old, long quintescent programs that Sha'Do had slipped into Tarlachia's cyber systems roused, and began feeding their electronic mistress information of every sort.

************** ************** *****************

Shalamar didn't want to know his true name, that would make her too dangerous to him and his mate. And the form he took revealed a visage not familar to her from her studies. 'but then again I didn't make that great a study of his kind, and I'm not sure if I want to go in depth now. But I do know what his mate is, though to see one of those 'settle down' has got to be as rare as hen's teeth.' The Lady of Cats Keep thought as she Stepped away from Stained Rocks.

She didn't take as many Steps this time, she hadn't been followed the last time and her reinforced shields had kept her from being detected. 'I don't need to get careless though. I'm spending too much time watching him. She knew what her problem was - she was bored and lonely and that, for her had always been a dangerous combination.

When his vampires hit Gnome base she merely scryed the start, knowing that human military depending primarily on technology stood little chance. The detals weren't really necessary for her to act.

Once the attack was fully underway she stepped into a shadow in the great castle at Turath. Moving wraithlike from shadow to shadow she located Arleni Greenwood, Sigrun's presumed heir. Taking a piece of paper prefolded into an airfoil she aported it. It appeared before Alreni, then her telekensis held it, let it hover for a split second before the elvin princesses eyes. Shalamar let it fall as she Stepped away, heading home though the no time of Shadow.

Gnome Base is falling to vampires. You and Campin aren't going to win this one by fighting your opponent seperately. I'll warn you further - Ranci isn't human.

She had another note to write, one prompted by her own 'demons'. That one would need very careful wording though.

Stephen’s enhanced vampire eyesight and combined with a pair of powerful binoculars stared down at the glow on the ground several miles away. The vampire did not wish to set down in order not to attract too much attention so Darius continued on his flight path. Even with this, Stephen could not make out exact details on some things, but from he did see he could tell it was some kind of government instillation, probably military, under attack by vampires.

“It has begun.” He muttered quietly as he lowered the binoculars. Nicole tapped him on the shoulder and he handed the binoculars to her. She stared at the base and muttered something under her breath.

Nicole stared at Stephen. “What side do you think our friends will be on?”

Stephen was silent as he placed the binoculars back in their case. He had been thinking about it for some time. If their vampire friends turned against the Greenwood monarchy, shooting had already begun. Stephen wondered if he would have to fight friends if it came to Civil War. “I don’t know. We’ll know when and if we see them.”

Nicole nodded as Darius flew onward to Turath. She stared ahead as the dark sky was brightened by the city’s lights. She squinted slightly as they got closer and some of the brighter lights gave her sensitive eyes a bit of a sting. As they moved across the city, she looked down as people stared up at the beast and pointed, even with a nation with dragons she guessed it was an odd sight to see a beast flying over a metropolitan area.

She was patient as Stephen directed Darius to the Greenwood castle in the middle of the city. Almost the second the dragon touched down, men and elves quickly appeared aiming bows and firearms at them. An elf approached them and stared coldly at the pair. “Who are you?”

Stephen stared at the elf for several long minutes before slowly sliding off Darius. Not much to his surprise the elves tightened grip on their bows and the humans wrapped their fingers around their triggers. “My name is Stephen Malone and this is my wife Nicole. We were friends of Sigrun Greenwood and I have meet Arleni on several occasions I would like to speak to her.”

The elf continued to stare. “How do I know who you say you are?”

Stephen sighed. It was his second confrontation with armed elves in this fashion. The first time was before the Star Trails where he had been knocked unconscious by elf magic and put in a cell for a while before Sigrun freed him. He was not in the mood to reenact that. “Listen to me good and clear. I know who I am and I am here on official business that concerns my nation and yours. Send one of your men and tell her Stephen and Nicole Malone are here to see her. She knows who I am. And when we are seen tend to my dragon. He needs water and something to eat.”

The elf stared at Stephen before turning to another and speaking something in elfish. The other elf turned and headed back into the castle. The other elf turned back to Stephen. “We shall wait and see who you are now. If you make any move deemed threatening both of you will be killed.”

Stephen merely grunted and walked back to Darius and helped a slightly nervous Nicole off the dragon. He was calm as he waited for the messenger to go to Arleni. The vampire could only hope the elf did remember him.

Turath, Tarlachia

Inside the castle at the pinnacle of the hill-city capital, it seemed like chaos had taken residence. Military personnel, servants, elves, and even a few Dramen were scurrying about. Through this confusing shifting maze of differing bodies, one elf hurried toward his destination. He nodded to the guards at the door as he approached. They nodded in reply and stepped aside.

“Francas, what is it?” Arleni questioned as she looked up from her current project in front of her, the official activation of elven military troops to high alert. She rose from her seat as she watched the elf approach.

“My lady. There is a visitor.”

“If it’s Campin, I want nothing to do with him. Escort him out of the capital immediately.”

“It’s not General Campin, my lady. Two vampires—“

She growled audibly, “Agents of Ranci?” Her hand clenched into a fist as her eyes blazed, “Ranci is getting rather full of himself!”

He shook his head negatively. “No, my lady. They claim to be friends of Sigrun. They’re dragon-riders. Stephen and Nicole Malone. We’ve got them, and the dragon under spell lockdown just outside.” Lockdown in this sense was an invisible dome that was cast over particular subjects of interest. Inside, they could wander all they wanted, but escape or cast counter-arcane spells, they could not.

Her eyes blinked as she recognized the name of the male. The female however was new to her. She raised an eyebrow as she thought over what on Earth could possibly be important enough for him to come here. Surely it wasn’t the current situation that was beginning to engulf parts of the nation in flames. She gathered the papers; including a mysterious letter of warning; on her desk and shoved them into a drawer while calling over her shoulder,“Bring them in.”

---------------------------------------------------

Gnome Base, Tarlachia

The base lay in ruins amongst the bodies and flames that littered the once proud military installation. Off to the northern end of the base, human survivors were being herded like cattle to a holding zone. There, they were given the option of joining the ranks of the undead…or death. For those that chose the latter, they received quick deaths by bullets between the eyes.

“Divide and conquer.” Ranci muttered with a sneer. He glanced to the woman standing next to him. “Time for you to begin.” She nodded and proceeded through a rip-hole nearby. Watching the rip-hole seal itself over, he thought to the demonic presence that had come in the midst of the base’s overthrow. He found the thought that another demon had made himself known to Ranci as disturbing. If demons were coming, how far behind were the Elites? Moving into the shadows of a doorway and passing through the threshold, he strode down the halls and past the numerous rooms that now lay in disarray. He smiled slightly at the chaos that had come to stay.

At last, he came upon a doorway that was closed. Allowing his eyes to change to pure black, he then saw the demonic locks. Strong locks, unbreakable to most but equal or stronger demons. They especially guarded against any Elites that might come snooping. Raising a hand to the locks, he watched as they glowed red and demonic words appeared. The hand twisted a particular sequence of arcane threads and seconds later he passed through. The seals locked instantly behind him.

In the center of the room, a lone figure sat upon a crate watching him as he approached. Ranci exchanged cold looks with the figure, typical of distrusting creatures. This was especially true amongst the underworld. At last, Ranci’s hands shredded the human illusion that was his guise and revealed his true appearance to the other. His skin was black, his wings coarse and with feathers. His eyes were dark still, but now they glowed with an inner fire. He looked toward the other demon and identified himself, “Lord Abaddon, one of the First Fallen.”

-----------------------------------------------------
Turath, Tarlachia

The doors opened as Stephen and Nicole were escorted into the room. Arleni approached them, but kept some distance. She nodded to him, and ignored her. “Something I can help you with, Stephen Malone?”

As she waited for his response, she turned her eyes unto Nicole and narrowed them slightly. Her expression was blank, yet held a hidden warning behind them, barely distinguishable. Political posture was a necessity these days, and often one had to remain aloof of others, especially if they were from foreign nations. Seeing that her intense gaze was beginning to unsettle Nicole, Arleni turned her attention back to Stephen.

Stephen waited patiently while Nicole paced and Darius lay on the ground, his eyes following the nervous vampiress. Stephen eyed Nicole, he couldn’t blame her for being nervous and in truth he had a slight bit of nervousness in him himself. If the elf sent inside just said there were vampires or Arleni was in such a rush she might just execute any vampire that comes onto the premises.

Remembering his treatment with elves before, Stephen walked towards a pair of Elf archers and paused. They didn’t react and Stephen reached out with his hand and felt resistance. Invisible shields…magic…something I will never get use to. Stephen turned back as he saw the Elvin runner return and talk to the head guard who turned to the vampires and raised and eyebrow before nodding to the runner.

“You are to follow me, keep your hands in plain sight at all times if you value your lives.” He said before moving towards the castle.

Stephen turned back to Darius, but as soon as the shield had lifted, the dragon lifted off towards the mountains. The vampire wasn’t surprised; if he needed him all he had to do was send a message in draconic. Stephen kept Nicole close as they walked into the castle with a pair of elves following them, their hands close to their swords. It was chaos and once the people inside saw the vampires, there seemed to be quiet as they moved as they were regarded with anger, mistrust, and Stephen picked out a few of the younger ones obviously wanting to cut his head off.

He felt better when they were let into Arleni’s chambers. She was just like he remembered her, always cautious with non-elves. The first time they had met he had jumped too close to her, thankfully she practiced restraint with her sword or else his head would have said goodbye to his body.

Nicole stared at the elf, Sigrun’s eyes were always warm and spare for after battle always had a smile on his face. This woman was opposite, Nicole had felt nervous around Skadi when she first met the ancient due to her reputation, and the young vampiress now shifted her feet uncomfortably from the stare from the elf’s eyes.

“This is my wife Nicole.” Stephen said with a smile on his face. Nicole simply nodded to the Elf, knowing the other woman probably didn’t trust her.

Noticing the tension between the women, Stephen stared blankly back at Arleni. “I knew there would be a shakeup in Tarlachia after Sigrun disappeared…but I would never imagine this. I want to first thank you for writing before you announced it.”

He paused for a second. “I came here after meeting with our President. He is a bit over paranoid and a bit of a prick and is hooting and hollering about this. He is threatening that if harm comes to citizens here, though he apparently is going to be asking them to leave here tomorrow, he will send in Special Forces to get at Ranci.”

Stephen let it sink with Arleni for a few seconds before diving into his next point. “I came here to tell you that personally…also to see if there was anything we can do to help you. You should also know that one of your army bases has come under vampire attack just tonight. We flew over it a while ago…I don’t know what base it was but it looks like Ranci isn’t going to play this game clean.”

The vampire waited for few more seconds. “So, is there anything we can do to help you?”

"Mercedez is going to go pay a personal visit to Sigrun's heir. They've put the ball in motion with a call to Tarlachia. The information that vampires have destroyed one of their bases is making Queen Holli very nervous. It will hopefully not take long too make the arragnements" Perigrine told Sha'Do as she finished the late evening snack she had been enjoying. "I've made it clear that I go with as her bodyguard and we go in the ShadowDancer."

Her partner gave the Neitzschean a thin smile. She hadn't like Tarlachians since they'd first met, though Sigrun had earned her respect. She didn't mind a little intimidation at all. She loathed vampires even more, their experiences with them having been far less than pleasant. "Good. Being there physically will allow me to more quickly get into their cybernet and upgrade the old programs. " The Avatar, sentienced to be the ultimate hacker, had long ago slid spy programs into Tarlachia's network, but she'd created better ones since then.

Perigrine nodded as she took a last sip of her wine and the pair returned to the complex of rooms that were being used as the Intelligence Center for the base. The recon sat's highly detailed pictures of people being forced to become vampires to 'save their lives' had the Neitzschean growling deep in her throat. In the Empire it was a death sentence to force some one across the veil, and such tactics as the Tarlachian vampires were useing disgusted her.

******************************************

Shalamar sat on her porch, sipping dark French Roast coffee, and trying to decide on the wording of her next missive. After a few minutes she shook her head and decided to scry the fallen base once again.

In moments she was on her feet eyes pinpoints of blazing fury. "Smug, MBC, to me now " she called as she swept into the house to take needed items in hand.

Then, with her familiars -the pair now each the size of a large pony, she Stepped.

The Step ended in the center of the holding zone at the north end of Gnome base. Smug and MBC moved a short distance away to give Shalamar working room. A few heads turned at the out-of- thin- air arrival, but most were too busy dieing, or dealing death, to notice.

And that suited the Lady of Cats Keep just fine. Her eyes drooped closed as she wrapped herself in a mantle of unbreakable concentration. She had trained under the most demanding of teachers - survival- and had leared the lessons well. For a goodly portion of her life in Shadow she had ruled the Psi towers and their workers, as she ruled Cats Keep itself- by force of indomintable will and unmatched skiil.

Storm Queen one with her donas, gifts of the mind, was titled, able to manipulate the web - warp and woof of the planetary energy field- directly. Power shimmered about her, coalescing, gathering taking on an almost tangable aspect and more heads turned. The power spike reached it peak, contained by an etherial yet infinitely strong shield. Then it spiraled outward and changed.

Transformed from something that merely stirred the inner senses to that which seared the outer. An omnidirectional wave, an ever expanding outward orb that carried its own sound, that of the spheres. It's own touch, a pressure against the skin like the first day of sun after a winter of grey and cold. It's own taste, indescribable, that of life.

Light, the birth of a star, heatless yet never the less as bright- and on the same angstrom wave length- as the Sun which currently warmed the far side of Earth. A solar furnace that did not suffer dead to remain extant in it's presence

Fiat Lux The words reverberated in the minds of every living being for nearly a mile in diameter as night and it's train of stars fled. For a time and space there was no dark, there were no shadows as the killing light scoured vampire -elder and new made alike. No time to cry, to flinch, to flee, just time to ...

Their bodies did not even burn but shuddered into so much dust in the photonic wind. Wind that shivvered the dust into fine silver mist that vanished, dispersed by that fatal wave.

A wave that washed over those still human, leaving them untouched. Then it was gone, the spike of unimaginable power used up, and MBC was leaping over to wedge his body under Shalamar's as her knees went weak and she fell against him hard.

"Smudge, get us out of here" She gasped almost inaudibly, and with a quick chant the tuxedo furred Flapcat began to prepare a gate that would take them back to the safety of their lands, the sprawling ranch that had become thier home. All that was left of Cats Keep on this world, after it had retured to Shadow.

Nez'gah looked up as he felt the presence of Ranci outside the door. No doubt existed within his mind that this man was of demonic nature, he oozed with energies not natural to this world. The locks would be a mild test of his strength, if he was a power of any significance then he could pass them, otherwise he was of no importance.

Fortunately Nez'gah's effort was not wasted as Ranci easily moved through the door, resealing it behind him as he approached. Nez'gah did nothing to highlight his presence, Ranci would know where he was soon enough. The room seemed to be completely isolated from the happenings outside, the only noise withing was that of Ranci's footsteps as he moved forward, unloading a stern look towards Nez'gah, in which the demon lord fully returned.

For a moment both creatures of darkness merely watched eachother, attempting to gain a measure of eachother and determine just what would happen next. Demons were untrustworthy creatures afterall, even amongst themselves. Sure this Ranci character was of interest, yet it was yet to be determined just how trustworthy he could be.

Finally he revealed his demonic form, displaying black feathered wings. This was a most interesting fact, he was a Fallen. They were an entirely different kind of demon compared to Nez'gah and Arithon, they had once been angels whilst Nez'gah had always been a demon.

Revealing his own form, Nez'gah quickly grew in size as thick muscle bulged upon his demonic bones, skin became leathery and dark red whilst the demon's eyes became an obsidian colour. Moderately sized leather wings spread were folded over his back and talons were strategically placed upon knuckles, wing tips and around the ankles. There was no doubt these demons shared no blood relation.

Nez'gah contined his surprise as Ranci finally revealed his true name. Abaddon. He'd heard tales of the demon here and there throughout his time upon this mortal world, legends of the uprising against Him and of those cast down. Abaddon and Lillith, they had suffered one of the worst fates at the hands of the angels. Yet it seemed that fate wasn't so bad at the moment.

"Nez'gah, of Arithon."

He couldn't be sure Abaddon would be aware of the demonic nation that existed within another realm of existence. Stories of the place were infamous in other worlds, places that had felt the true presence of the demonic horde and the touch of Lord Arithon yet this place knew little of the nearby threat. It was defended well by a creator and his legions.

"You have caught the attention of my master, Lord Abaddon. You may share similar wishes in regard to this region."

Before he could say anymore, Nez'gah noted a massive outburst of energy above ground, something had focused a large amount of power and unleashed it upon Ranci's forces. Immediately he could tell it was not an angelic or a demon, something quite different.

"A friend of yours?"

“Spawn of the Depths.” Abaddon muttered as he watched Nez’Gah take his true form. However, after hearing his apparent interest to the underling’s master, their meeting was interrupted by a tremendous blast on the surface.

“A friend of yours?” Nez’Gah questioned.

Abaddon shook his head negatively as he sought to analyze what had churned that force. “Not mine, and obviously not yours. Grey energy, not dark enough to be demon, and not of Elite nature.”

He looked upward and snarled slightly. He didn’t like this new element. He focused his attention on the ceiling above him and unleashed a tremendous blast that blew a wide enough vertical tunnel straight to the surface. Spreading his wings and taking flight upward quickly, he was followed by Nez’Gah until they reached the surface. Touching down upon the shattered earth, Abaddon looked about to see his minions murdered…gone.

His eyes fell upon the humans who stumbled about in a daze, trying to make sense of what had happened. A few caught sight of the two of them. Abaddon narrowed his eyes and watched as they suddenly clutched their chests and screamed in terror as their hearts were set on fire and extracted forcefully from their bodies.

He shifted lens and scanned the area, looking for an arcane signature of the spell-caster.
He found it almost instantly as he saw three figures off to the side of the base. One of them was preparing a portal opening. Abaddon was upon them within seconds, his hand sending a blast of dark energy upon the portal and overloading it. It’s structural elements shattered to pieces. His eyes bore down upon the three of them as he growled, “Identify yourself, or face a death few ever experience.”

-----------------------------------------

Arleni shook her head negatively to Stephen, her eyes growing ablaze with fury at him. “National Sovereignty is prominent here, Stephen Malone, and The Golden Simatar will respect Tarlachian sovereignty no matter what. If I find out your Special Forces are on Tarlachian soil, you can bet every drop of blood your nation will find themselves in a hell far more than they’ve ever seen!”

Her hands clenched tightly as she stepped closer to the vampire and hissed into his face, “Ranci will be eliminated, don’t you worry about that. I know some things about him that you don’t. For one, Ranci is not human.”

She allowed that to sink in a bit, then continued, “Nor is he vampire. No…he is far worse.” She returned to her desk and withdrew the mysterious letter and handed it over to him. “This is my confirmation of that fact. Carrick Ranci is a high level demon under guise here in Tarlachia. Your nation can barely handle vampires as it is, how do they think they’ll be able to handle a demon lord!?”

She took in a deep breath, calming herself. “His true name is still unknown, and his purpose as to why he wants Tarlachia under his control is still unknown. He’s had thousands upon thousands of years to conceal his identity, to set into motion inevitable events.”

Her head shook sadly as she looked toward the bookshelf. Years were accumulated through the many books there, years of history and strife. Yet, none warned of the likes of Ranci. She shook her head sadly once again, “Ranci will be eliminated, but how remains the question. I just don’t know how to deal with him to tell the truth. All I know is that my people can put up their best spells and defenses, but I don’t know if they can contain him.”

Nicole shifted her stance slightly, causing Arleni to look toward her. Nicole asked, “Isn’t there anyone you can contact for help?”

Arleni gave a nod, “A few…but as to their worth, that remains to be seen. One is Liam Celadrin. The other is our deep space ally, Tanara. Some representatives are on their way here now actually.”

Suddenly, the doors burst open and a dirtied, blood soaked man stumbled into the room and looked unsteadily around at the three of them. Once he saw Arleni, he stumbled toward her and fell to the elf’s feet. She scoffed in disgust and delivered a kick to his face until he lay on the ground in front of her. She stepped closer and looked down at him, “What the hell happened to you General Campin?”

“Va—Vampires…ambushed…double agents…Gnome Base…overthrown.” He rasped as he struggled to catch his breath. Arleni’s face grew graven as she looked up at Stephen, “You were right.”

Campin rose to his feet with the aid of a nearby chair, which he promptly collapsed into. Arleni gave him a hardened look. “Are you ready to stand by me now, Campin?” The general blinked, then nodded slowly. With a glance to the two vampires, Arleni nodded, “Good. Now, what I was telling these two before you came in is that Ranci is far more than he portrays himself. His arcane power is beyond many of our individuals’ capabilities, and possibly even against the strength of our entire race.”

She keyed a button that had begun flashing, “What is it? I hope it’s important.”

“My lady, There is a Tokram Firescales here to see you with classified information.”

“Firescales?” she muttered as she released the button. She indicated that the two vampires move to the shadows. As they finished doing so, the door opened and in strode a dark haired middle-aged Draman with dark tan scales on his exposed skin. His eyes were sharp, intelligent. He bowed respectfully and began speaking.

“Lady Greenwood. I bring information I think you’ll find pleasing. You’ve sent request for aid against this Carrick Ranci character. In return, I have been sent to represent half of the draconian clans in the western mountains. The rest…,” his eyes landed upon the vampires in the corner, and his expression turned to stone. Arleni’s raised hand returned his attention back to her.

“They are friends. They have nothing to do with this situation.”

Tokram glared to them once more, the distrust quite evident. “The rest of the clans have joined Ranci…a terrible situation for us, as most of them are the stronger clans. Ranci has drawn his conflict into our secluded culture and has split our peace we’ve established over three thousand years ago. Because of Ranci, those of us whom I represent have decided unanimously to declare war on Ranci and his followers, including our defective brothers and sisters.”

Tokram took a moment to breathe, then looked Arleni square in the eye, “If it helps…I’ve dealt with powerful dark creatures before, including one that sought to destroy the earth starting in the nation of Khadrim.”

Arleni took this in thoughtfully and turned away to gaze upon a plant that grew in a pot by the window. Silence filled the room as they awaited her to speak. At last, she turned and looked at all of them. Her words were firm, her resolve resolute.

“We’re going to have to set aside our differences and join as one against Ranci. We might just have a chance then.” She exhaled slightly, “Hopefully, or this nation will fall, and if Tarlachia falls, others will follow.” Her eyes were now upon Stephen. “It’s time for me to officially declare war.”

Shalamar's initial exhaustion had faded. When one lives 'plugged in' to a planets energy well, it's easy to recoup. And the deaths of the humans she had just managed to save was added incentive.

“Identify yourself, or face a death few ever experience.”


"Oh please, can the bad melodrama." The Lady of Cats Keep snarled as she turned flinty eyes on Abaddon. "You sound like you ought to be twirling your mustache and carrying poor Penelope off wrapped in carpet."

A thought, and protective energies invisibily wrapped the trio. "One Fallen Angel and one demon don't much bother me, so I'll be on my way." and hope you don't figure out too much about me too quick. Damn Demons just aren't content to rule Hell nowdays got to export themselves she thought as she made herself meet the obsidian orbs glowering at her. The smile she gave him was more of another predators baring of teeth. It would not do to let him see the slightest fear or weakness.

But the fine hairs on the back of her neck were standing...and the soles of her feet itched with the need to be elsewhere. Smug and MBC closed about her, their bodies touching hers and forming their own protective barrier about her.

Nez'gah nodded slightly as Abaddon spoke, it appeared he was very much aware of the demons beyond those cast out of Heaven. As he'd expected, the force above ground had as much to do with Abaddon as it did with him, sparking both demons' curiosity. The demon lord supposed it could be one acting on behalf of another Tarlachian faction, that would explain the lacking of demonic or angelic energies.

Watching as Abaddon promptly removed the mass of land in his way and rocketed through the hole, Nez'gah snarled was close behind. He didn't appreciate being interrupted by others, yet he couldn't help feel curious as to what had happened. He'd find out soon enough.

Emerging from the hole, Nez'gah soared into the air for a moment, taking his time as he looked around the battle ground before him. Scattered all over the bloody grounds were half the battle participants, the humans. All looked confused and less aware as to what just happened than the demons did. Not a sign existed to indicate any vampires were in the area, they had simply vanished.

A slight fanged grin crossed Nez'gah's face as he watched Abaddon kill the remaining humans. They may not have disappeared yet the final result was the same. Only five figures stood upon the inner yard of Gnome Base now. Demonically augmented vision allowed Nez'gah to spot the three intruders and so he followed Abaddon, not wishing to intervene as this was not his fight, not yet anyway.

With their portal now destroyed, Abaddon confronted the three intruders and Nez'gah gathered strength. The creatures before him appeared somewhat human yet, not. He'd never encountered their kind before and made sure to etch every detail into memory.

Gathering strength, Nez'gah waited in silence.

Nicole could not blame the elf for being pissed to learn that Simatarian Special Forces might come into her nation. The young vampiress was curious what Arleni meant by the hell her country would experience, but in her brief time of knowing the immortal side of the world she knew it wouldn’t be good. When the subject came to Ranci, she had no shock and neither did Stephen of him not being human, but both had shocks as they found he was not a vampire as they had both assumed he was.

She peered over Stephen’s shoulder and as the vampires read, Arleni announced Ranci’s true form. Nicole felt a lump in her throat, a demon lord. She knew that if confronted by it, she would stand no chance, and as Arleni spoke of thousands of years, her husband would also stand no chance. She had heard of Liam Celadrin and that lightened her now dark spirits.

Both vampires smelled fresh blood before Arleni did and turned as the doors flung open to reveal a man in a military uniform covered in drying blood. Nicole felt her mouth dry, she hadn’t fed tonight and the smell of blood made her stomach growl. She would wait till she and Stephen left before biting into his bloodstone. She smiled, her fangs retracted, as the General followed Arleni’s gaze to them.

Taking Arleni’s motion to hide quickly, both Simatarians hid in the shadows where a normal human would have to be within a foot or two to make them out. Nicole stared at the man who walked in, at first she thought he was wearing dragon scale armor until she noticed it was in fact his skin. Her eyes moved to Stephen as he tracked him, she could tell by the subtle movements of his muscles under his clothes and his eyes he was ready to fight the dragon-man if he tried to attack them.

Dragon clans joining Ranci, another bad sign, at least Darius was on their side. With Tokram knowing what they were, the vampires moved back into the light. Stephen turned to Arleni as she spoke; the domino effect that she spoke of would most certainly come true. If Ranci was going after Tarlachia, there was no reason not to go after any other nation. Out of all of those in the region, Stephen knew his nation would be the most vulnerable to attack.

Stephen nodded. “What do you want us to do Arleni? I was never able to repay my debt to Sigrun while he was alive and I wish to try and repay it any way I can by helping you.”

The arrangements for HRH Mercedez Hexx and her small entourage were originally set for several days hence. However the attack on a priorly secret Tarlachian base made it imperative that both Tanaar and Tanara make their stances clear to the Tarlachian government.

Within two hours, HRH Mercedez arrived at Montgard's starport and was aboard the Shadow Dancer with her aide cum bodyguard Sinjin Kincannon. Half an hour later the trim starcraft was streaking heavenward for the miniscule hop to Tarlachia.

*Tarlachia ground control this is TSS ShadowDancer.* The ship sent her ID information. She was already in Tarlachia's files from her prior visits. The fact that she was travelling under Diplomatic Accreditation took care of all the formalities, and Tarlachian ground control assigned her the berth she originally had all those years ago.

Rossover City had grown she noted as she landed. The vast plains where they had gated the Cipher after the accident were not under the city instead of surrounding it. There was a high speed shuttle waiting to take them directly to the Palace at the Tarlachian capitol of Turath. Her Highness, Mercedez and the three that made up her entourage were made comfortable as their small amount of luggage was transfered over. Soon the shuttle was airborn and winging toward Turath and the small Tanaran Embassy.

Plasma holo-screens all across Tarlachia flickered momentarily before being dominated simultaneously by the government’s Priority News display. Billions of citizens turned their attention to the nearest screen as the familiar national anthem was briefly played. A male voice-over began speaking, “Tarlachian Priority News, live from the Royal Press Room in Turath, Tarlachia.” Arleni’s image could be seen standing raptly behind a podium as she looked gravely toward the portal-feed that allowed her face to be seen on every screen in the nation. In addition, it was being transmitted internationally to all who would care to tune in. At last, she took a deep breath and began.

“Fellow Tarlachians, and citizens of Earth and the galaxy…it is with a heavy heart that I stand before you today and tell you news of great issue to Tarlachia. Many of you are quite aware of the aggressive politics that have been taking place after the departure of His Royal Highness Sigrun Greenwood. For those not familiar, I shall briefly tell you of the situation as it is. Three major parties began campaigns for the throne, one led by myself, one by General Marco Campin, and the last led by Carrick Ranci.”

As she spoke of the parties, brief images of the other two parties flashed across the screen, as well as the main political stances. Once it was finished, Arleni returned into view. She continued without pause.

“Recently, a highly classified military base within Tarlachia was utterly overrun, destroyed from the inside out by minions under the command of Carrick Ranci.”

A screenshot of the destroyed base from the air was shown, its ruins still in the shadows of nighttime. It had been taken within an hour after the attack had ceased.

“As a result of that devastating attack, General Campin escaped slaughter and came to me immediately.” She looked to the side and watched as General Campin limped to her side and stood firmly beside her. His eyes were hard with experience. Arleni continued, “As a result, General Campin has decided to cease his political agenda in light of this devastating attack. It is clear that Carrick Ranci has gathered many to his banner, and threatens the very nation with great unrest. His true agenda is still unknown, but one thing is for sure.”

Arleni stepped aside of the podium and moved closer to the portal-feed, until her face engulfed the entire screen. “Carrick Ranci desires the destruction of this nation’s greatest achievements, to ground the very things that makes Tarlachia what it is into the soil. General Campin now stands behind me and together we are prepared to do what we must.”

She allowed a momentary pause to ensure she held the attention of all viewers, “Carrick Ranci, as the rightful ascendant to the throne, and with the support of General Campin and true Tarlachians, I herby declare war upon you and your factions. Your aggressive actions, and indiscriminate slaughters of hundreds of innocent Tarlachians will not go unpunished.”

She took another deep breath and delivered her final words, “Your day of judgment shall come, Carrick Ranci.”

Across the nation, screens flickered once again before resuming their normal programs. However, many channels now had something that related to the hottest news of the decade.

------------------------------------------------

Abaddon growled silently as he stood opposite of the female with her two guardians circling her protectively. His gaze was locked with hers as he studied her, and further studied her aura. Many shades existed in her aura. She wasn’t dark, yet she wasn’t light either. She was an in-between, a grey. And this fact intrigued him so, for she could support either side as she wished. Another thought crossed his mind; the memory of feeling watched by an unseen force.

“You harness great strength, one I would be pleased to alliance with.” He began, “For such an alliance would greatly benefit you, creature of the shadows. I would be sure to reward you for such loyalty once my hold on this nation is sure.”

He kept in mind that Nez’Gah stood merely feet from him. He would offer similar terms, although perhaps with an additional thing or two. Arithon was a nation that would provide greater resources from him to pool from. He knew nothing of this other shadowy figure whom stood defensively with her guardians, nor where she was from exactly.

His gaze watched the female’s own slight movements. It was clear she feared his strength, yet she put up an impressive display of defiance. It reminded him of Lillit’s own personality, although it was nowhere near as defiant. No, none could even hope to even possess half of Lillit’s own defiance. Lillit was unique, one of a kind, like him.

Abaddon continued, “A reward I’m willing to negotiate with you, should you join with me.” He purposely left it open-ended. It was an insatiable offer, one that offered many possibilities. “You have twenty-four hours to consider my offer. Find me as you did before.” The knowing smile that followed would tell her all she needed to know.

Without giving her a chance to reply, he turned and nodded to Nez’Gah. “Come, you and I have much to discuss.” Within moments, the two had disappeared, as if they had evaporated into the air. They both made sure their path would be untraceable, even by the powers of the Elite.

------------------------------------------------

Arleni now stood alone in the Press Room, save for the General, the two vampires and the Draman. They all watched her silently as she closed her eyes momentarily and sighed heavily. “All right.” She began, “Stephen, Nicole. I need you two to gather recruits of the Underworld Cities whom have not been culled by Ranci. I will warn you though; the cities will be highly dangerous. Many eyes and ears will be watching, listening. Move quickly; speak only as necessary. Don’t stop anywhere. You’ll be trapped if you do. Possibly even killed. Leave small, but distinguishable emblems in various locations. The true loyal citizens will know what it means.”

She handed Stephen and Nicole matching bags that were decently heavy with the small metal emblems that was Tarlachia’s emblem. “I need you two to do what you can. You won’t get many vampires if any at all, but you’ll have a chance with others who live in those cities. Lycans, a few goblins, perhaps a troll or two, and others will listen. Do try to gather together as many lycans as you can, as they are highly effective against vampires.” She watched as Stephen and Nicole respectfully took their leave.

Turning to General Campin, Arleni's eyes hardened as they met the general's own. "You know what needs to be done." She didn't bother to elaborate. Campin knew his job well. He departed quickly.

Next, she turned to Tokram, “Gather your forces and prepare to leave at a moment’s notice. You will lead the rapid assault forces in an attempt to confuse the enemy. At times, I will require your people to take their full form and lay waste from above.” Tokram’s eyes narrowed slightly before he bowed, “We shall be ready when you need us.” His fist thumped against his chest, “For Tarlachia.”

As he turned and departed, the door opened before he reached it, and in strode a pair of elves whom led a small party of three. These three were clearly dressed unlike Tarlachians, yet Arleni recognized them immediately. She approached and bowed slightly in respect. “Your Highness.” Her posture straightened as she looked upon Mercedez, “I am pleased you came quickly. I’m sure by now you’ve heard the news that’s taken Tarlachia by storm.”

She gestured toward the doors, “Please, come. Let us get something to drink before we talk of pressing matters.” The escorting elves walked ahead of them and led them toward the conference room where they all settled into their seats. Arleni disregarded the seat she would have normally taken in an official meeting with foreign nationals, and instead took a seat close to the Tanarans. After they were served their respective drinks, Arleni began,

“I think it’s imperative you learn what we’ve found out so far about Carrick Ranci.”

Her hand waved over the table, and a holo-display appeared to the side, with an image of Ranci supported by the first of facts learned about him. “On the news, I stated that Carrick Ranci was merely a force with considerable numbers under his command. I couldn’t tell the people all the details of this dangerous man.” She cleared her throat and held her hand up. “I’m sorry, he is no man. Carrick Ranci, we’ve recently discovered to instead be a demon-lord in disguise. His true name is unknown…and his powers…”

Arleni’s head shook negatively as if she were scolding herself, “His powers are far greater than we ever anticipated. He may even be stronger than our combined forces of all arcane casters at our disposal. I do not know how he arrived here…but I do know one thing. I don’t want him here.”

Her eyes locked with theirs, “Your nation has long since been our allies, trading partners and friends. You jump-started our entry into space, helped advanced our technology considerably, and more. As of this moment, there are gathering forces preparing to strike against Ranci and his forces from several angles. They will blitz him from every side, and attempt to overwhelm him. I have confidence that with enough force, we can force his surrender. However…all plans don’t always go according to plan.”

Her finger pressed another button and displayed an intergalactic map. A single, small planet was enlarged slightly and supporting text identified it as being under Tarlachian control. It was a moderately sized trading outpost and military installation, where the latest in space-based technology was being developed quietly. Her finger pointed to the planet, “Borgale, our trading post that is nearest your home world. Should our blitz maneuver fail to effectively eliminate the threat given by Ranci, I wish to start transporting citizens, and key government officials to Borgale for safety. Already, there is a decently sized military reserve on Borgale, as well as the permanent reserve assigned to protect the planet. They will provide adequate protection for incoming citizens and officials.”

“That is where you come in. I need you to help us accomplish this rapidly without having to tie up our moderately sized fleet in the evacuation. I’d much prefer to station my strongest space-ships in orbit above Tarlachia, prepared to eliminate Ranci from above with excessive force if necessary. These ships would also include the entire fleet your nation has generously granted us to be the core of our space-fleet.”

Arleni took a sip of her drink and then crossed her hands in front of her as she looked to them. “If we cannot contain Ranci, then…I will be forced to ask Tanara for assistance, as well as any other international allies we have. But, please, allow me to do what I can before I ask you to intervene.”

Perigrine who had stayed in the background stepped forward. "I speak for the Empire, as Her Hand. Tanara will gladly help evacuate your civilian population at any moment you should require. We know that you can open portals from here into cis-lunar space, and transport vast amounts of material and people at one time. That can be used to your advantage. Set up gathering sites here in Tarlachia and we can have colony ships as their destination at scheduled times. We have ships that can hold a hundred thousand at a time and are willing to place them at your disposal." She paused a second then continued.

"I have been instructed to advise you that the ships that were gifted to you are yours but they will not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. And while I have never encounted a demon, after the events of tonight my determination would be that this Ranci is indeed the 'wrong hands' and I will so report to the Empress."

Mercedez waited until Perigrine finished, noting that the Empress's Hand did NOT mention the five oh first just across the Tarlachian -Tanaaran border. "Your Highness, we will gladly send aid, both financial, and supplies. Tanaara's initial offer does not include military forces, but does include any and all Inteligence." She would have to comm the queen to authorise an offer of military assisstance, but she knew that would just be pro-forma.

Tanaara didnot want such a thing as a Demon Lord taking over one of their bordering neighbors, and she knew the Empire damn well didn't want one getting into space.

Nez'gah didn't agree with Abaddon's offer to the strange woman in the slightest. She may be a being belonging to neither side that control a considerable amount of power, or it may simply be subterfuge. Whatever the case, Nez'gah didn't trust the woman in the slightest and would much rather be feasting upon her soul.

With his offer made, Abaddon focused his attention upon Nez'gah and both demons disappeared into thin air. Nez'gah didn't know where he was being led and he merely followed, making sure to cloak the path behind him as they appeared within the depths of a dark city, somewhere within Tarlahica, yet hidden from the sun's rays.

"Welcome to Eternalia City, one of the many underworld cities of Tarlachia."

Nez'gah took a moment to look around as he shifted back in his human form, keeping himself hidden under his cloak.

"I see, this will do I suppose."

Looking back to Abaddon, Nez'gah allowed an ounce of his power to flow forth from his feet as he molded it to his will, setting up barriers around the pair that would detect unwarranted ears or snooping eyes. One never knew who was watching.

"Now, back to our previous discussion. Lord Arithon has noted your activities within Tarlachia with certain interest. As you may know, a wasteland borders Tarlachia on the east. This wasteland is the weakest point in the barrier that separates the lands of Arithon from that of this world. It is the only place mass hordes of demon can be shifted and few ever dare to enter this place.

If the Tarlachians were to be removed from power, this would allow for expansion of this wasteland and eventually a permanent demonic outpost upon this world. Of couse, Lord Arithon is prepared to offer you substantial assistance in your own endeavours."

Nez'gah paused for a moment to allow Abaddon to take this in. Looking around the city he noticed basic infrastructure yet no light, anywhere. He imagined it wasn't too much of a concern to those that lived here.

"Would you be interesed?"

Stephen and Nicole took the bags and slipped them inside their coats. They bowed respectfully and departed the room. Still receiving cold, unfriendly glares from the people in the halls, the vampires hastily departed the castle and didn’t bother with a message to Darius. He and Nicole would have to stay on the ground in order to attract as little attention as possible. If there were any vampires still alive from the time of the revolt Maximus led over twelve hundred years ago, they would recognize him and probably try to kill him as it seemed that letting him live wasn’t a popular choice. Younger vampires would remember him for standing by Sigrun during the brief uprising after the Star Trials and watching him move behind the elf during the march after his coronation.

The vampires headed back down into the city before Nicole spoke to him. “Are the underground cities as dangerous as Arleni makes them out to be?”

“Yes they are, sometimes worse. I was down there once shortly after the Third Assington War and a fledgling tried to gut me…needless to say he didn’t anticipate my strength. We’ll travel together and never get out of eyesight. I hope we can lure some of our kind and others away from Ranci. With any luck we might be able to talk with some of the more influential elders.”

“Okay, now…when Arleni said ‘goblins’ and ‘trolls’…does she mean…”

Stephen openly laughed. “You should have seen your face when you first met Sigrun….priceless. But, yes I take it as the same creatures from Lord of the Rings, hopefully these are more intelligent creatures than those in the novels.”

Nicole nodded. “What is the first place on the list?”

“Last place will be Eternalia City…it is like vampire slums. First place will be Nosgah City, the most liberal of the Underworld Cities. Then Maximus…I have some friends there, followed by Bakaran, Crimson, Moonlight and finally Eternalia. Remember to watch your tongue and keep your mind guarded in these places.”

Nicole nodded once again as the pair headed to a car rental that was still open where Stephen rented a car up front in cash with no questions asked. The pair climbed into the 1997 black Honda Civic and headed to their first objective.

Damn, I was afraid of that. Shalamar kept herself from wincing at having been sensed. His mind while not as easy to read as a human was not entirely opaque to her. So the one with him was one of Arithons. That boded no good.

“You have twenty-four hours to consider my offer. Find me as you did before.”

Confirmed! and he doesn't waste any time. And flirt with fire I may, I refuse to dive in head first...Now how do I play both sides and not get burned.... She smiled grimly as he and the other disappeared. Having rested now long enough to Step she requested that Smug and MBC return to their normal size. Once that was done she scooped them up and set them on her shoulders. Then she Stepped home.

It was but the work of mintues to write yet another missive and to teleport it to Arleni's desk. She simply homed in on the location of her previous missive.

Ware, Ranci may be treating with Arithon, a demon, Lord of the Wasteland that borders Tarlachia.

She still owed Arithon a gift and she began making preperations to transport to him what he had earned.

“Interested? Indeed!” Abaddon replied quietly with a dark smile, glancing around the dark city with wary eyes. “I’m not sure that you and your master are aware of my true purpose in the larger scheme of things, nevertheless, your offer will fit quite nicely with that. However, there is one problem, one that faces all of us. Tell me, how much trouble have the Elites given your master for the past few thousand years?”

Before Nez’Gah could reply, he held his hand up and continued, “Allow me to explain myself. Long ago, I and my companion, Lillit the Succubus, were…punished, as they say, to an eternity upon Earth, stripped of most of our powers, forced to scavenge the world for our survival. Slowly, we’ve become more powerful through the easily corruptible human race, but alas, we are still inhibited by the Elites’ containment spells. Each day, we strive to break those spells, each day we strive to approach that final day in which we can finally rid ourselves of the interference from them, and slay them once and for all. When that is accomplished, I will seek to fulfill my true mission.”

Nez’Gah’s head rose slightly, “And what is that?”

“To destroy this world and leave it in utter waste.” He waved a hand toward Nez’Gah, “Then, your master will be free to take over what I have destroyed and build his empire in my stead.”

-------------------------------------------------

Arleni sat in the chair, her gaze locked down upon the piece of paper she had finished reading. “Arithon? This just gets better and better…” She slammed her fist down upon the paper and growled, “We cannot let that happen.”

Her eyes traveled upward to the others in the room with her, “There you have it. Our common foe is gathering his support. I do not know whom this agent is that sends these letters of mysterious origin, but I would be willing to bet they’ve something to lose if they don’t help us.” Her brow furrowed, Unless he or she is a propagandist for Ranci.I think it’s time that I verify this source’s true purpose. She looked between Peregrine and Mercedes, “But first…allow me to show you a little-known skill amongst my people. A spell if you will.”

Picking up the piece of paper and carrying it around the desk until she stood in front of them, she let it float gently onto the floor. She took a blank paper from her desk and quickly wrote a few lines on it and signed it. ‘Your information is valuable, however, for the sake of validity, I would like to speak to you in person. Arleni.’ Placing it atop the received letter, she noted the confused looks upon their faces and explained, “A tracing spell-summon spell cocktail. Similar to a ‘return-call’ feature on the comms that humans use.”

They watched as a dome latticed display of lights rose up around the paper and locked into place. They all looked down at the letters for a moment or two.

With that, she muttered quietly in her native tongue and watched as the dome began to glow brightly as the magic began its work. It wouldn’t be long now until they had their results.

--------------------------------------------------------

Throughout the heightened activity of Turath, a single solitary figure strode calmly through the masses with a cloak pulled down low over her head. Several times, soldiers stopped her and questioned her, only to let her by after a moment of looking into her eyes. When she had passed, they were unsure as to what had just transpired, and wondered if they had even seen her at all. Those that were males, found themselves suddenly… disturbed physically than prior to the meeting. They were quick to adjust to the situation, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

The cloaked figure looked up the hill at the castle, a slight grin crossing her exquisite features.
-------------------------------------------------------

Campin was in his ‘war room’, barking out orders across all modes of secure communication. Every unit, every battalion, every commander, every able-bodied and ready soldier was immediately called into active duty, their assignments placing them at various points all across Tarlachia, protecting vital infrastructure, settling into key positions for expected attacks, and coming to terms with the war that had just become a normal part of their daily lives. While there were not hostile activities, there was to be made every effort to divert as many citizens to key export sites where interspace ships would meet and transport them to safety in the outpost of Borgale.

However, as mobile as they were, they still would have to conquer the staggering numbers of citizens to be transported, nearly five billion Tarlachians alone…

Shalamar glared at the paper that had appeared on her desk. So Arleni has done some sort of trace back. I just hope she doesn't know where it's tracing back to. She grabbed up the paper, and a pen. She left her office and Stepped. Appearing near one of her favorite places, a little known, and now days little visited, or os it seemed, shop deep in Tarlachia. Where once she had forged the enchanted blade she still carried. Hastily she penned a one line reply on the piece of paper that Arlenni had sent.. Then, with the paper hovering on an errrant breeze, she aported it back to it's orignal author.

I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request"

She wondered if any one else would get the reference. Then she Stepped Jamaica. She was almost out of her favorite, the worlds most exquisite coffee, Jamaican Blue Mountain. She was laughing as she Stepped.

Stephen and Nicole went into the underground city of Nosgah and slipped in with the crowd. No one thought them out of the ordinary, just a pair of vampires like most other folks. Nicole palmed one of the emblems and went to the restroom at a gas station and placed it on the wall opposite of the sinks. She exited and went into the street to find Stephen walking back up, he gave a nod and they continued on.

It went smoother than Nicole thought, though she did notice a few eyeballs swiveling to them as they neared and went past. She didn’t know if they were just looking at her body or they were spies for Ranci. Still, the Simatarians continued with their objective, spreading the emblems in places from gas station restrooms to shelves at book stores.

Stephen believed they had put enough in Nosgah and the pair quickly and quietly departed. He also noted the eyes looking at them, but didn’t know if they were just looking at the new face or Ranci agents. Stephen didn’t know if they were to bump into any of them during their trip, but if they did, he figured Nicole and he could shoot their way out.

With Nosgah slipping behind them as they drove down the main roads, Stephen set a course for Maximus.

Shalamar Stepped back to her ranch house, a ten pound bag of freshly roasted to 'french dark' Jamaican Blue Mountain beans,a quart of freshly seperated cream and a quart of Brendan's Irish creme Liquor weighing down the woven willow basket over her arm. She grinned to note that no storm troopers, or the local variant, were waiting for her. Once inside she kicked off her shoes, and while a fresh pot brewed, changed into a comfortable lounging robe.

Once she had a book and mug of cofffe in hand she wandered out to the old fashioned porch swing to read before heading to bed. Smug and MBC joined her, curling in her lap as a purring,warm lump.

******************************************

Perigrine and Mercy waited silently, as the piece of paper reappeared a few minutes later to float down upon Arleni's desk.

"It doesn't look as if your mystery informer wishes to make themselves known" Mercy said wryly, as Arleni's face tightened with anger. "You can't always make people do what you want them too, no matter how much power you think you have." She spoke not unkindly, for Arleni seemed to take being thwarted rather personally.

She stood and stretched discretely. 'Your Highness, both Tanaara and the Empire have made their stances known to you. Any one you wish to send to safety over the border is welcome in Tanaara, and as The Hand of the Empress has said that their transport ships will be ready when you need them."

Her voice hardened "However we will, neither of our governments, allow your internal problems to spill over and become external ones. Nor do we of Tanaara have any desire to expand our borders. Let us stay good neighbors."

Nez'gah nodded slowly as Abaddon finished his little story. He knew the demon lord refererd to angels and their kind as Elites, for some reason. It seemed strange to him, to call one's enemy by a manner that suggests they are superior. No matter of course, twas merely a difference in their demonic breeds.

"The angels have not taken a large interest in Lord Arithon's activities, as long as it's not influencing this world in a significant manner. I have had many encounters with their kind and they have been most bothersome, more formidable than any other angelic we have encountered on other worlds."

Taking a moment to look around, Nez'gah noted the distance presence of other life forms.

"They have so far prevented us from establishing a permanent outpost on this world, it has not been appreciated."

As for the matter of Abaddon's true mission, it couldn't be better. Nez'gah couldn't help but grin as he considered this.

"Your mission suits us perfectly. My master had every intention of destroying this land anyway, the humans have no place in his realm as he wishes to create yet another demonic outpost, like the many established around the universe, within many realms of existence."

Samantha Grey stroked her long jet black hair as she prepared for the day. If all went to plan, she would finnaly resolve the conflict between the Lycans and Vampires in Centri Unisavlian. Though she would be proud of this accomplishment, she hated that she had to be the one to resolve the conflict. Being of angel and elven decent, she had a hatred for these creatures of darkness, but she knew that it was in her responcibilities of being Queen.

As she was making her way to the council chambers, she was interupted by a young female elf robed in clothes that marked her as a messenger from the Foreign Affairs office.
"Excuse me milady, but there is a growing problem that requires your assistance immedately."
"Very well. I shall meet Councilman Darius momentarly."
The messenger curtsied and hurried off towards the FA office. Samantha wondered what would be of such urgency that Slyvester would summon her so. She knew that he understood the importance of having the Lycan/Vampire issue resolved, and that she had requested not to be summoned until an hour after the conference. Pushing her thoughts aside, she walked through the beautiful royal courtyard, pausing momentarily to soak in the brillaince of a waterfall hidden behind a viel of trees, and then she was off again.

When Samantha reached the FA office, she reached out for the knob, but was suprised when Darius had already opened the door for her. Darius was dressed in his customary councilmen robes, which were a light blue with a single white stripe that went across the left brest. As he opened the door, he bowed to Samantha to which she curtsied and made her way inside. Closing the door behind her, Darius pulled out a chair from his table and Samantha sat down, adjusting her silver skirt as she did. As Darius made his way around the table, Samantha looked around the room. Maps, globes, and trinkets from the various country Slyvester had visited covered the shelves and walls. Before Darius was situated, Samantha began her questioning.

"Why did you summon me Darius? Today of all days was not the day that you needed me."
Darius gave a smile, which showed his withered face, covered in wrinkles.
"Well your highness, our friends Tarlachia, are having quite the internal struggle. So much so, that Arleni Greenwood has declared war upon a section of the country. Now as a matter of foriegn policy, and protecting our best interests, I think that we need to know more about why these events have come to pass."
"You're quite right Darius, but it should be in secret. We can not allow ourselves to be drawn into a war right now. Several cities are still recovering from the last war."
"I fully understand this, and that is why I have contacted a certain individual to perform the intel mission. Though, you may not like the selection."
"No, you didn't. Tell me you didn't."
"I'm afraid I had to milady. He is the only one who I thought could perform this mission successfully."
"Very well, but please keep in mind, him and I broke up long ago and if this is some sort of trick to get us back together, it shall not be happening."
"As you say milady."

Bruce and Geoff, the doormen and guardians of the main entryway into the castle were both off to the side, their hands clutching their pants in the shadows. Bruce gave a glance toward the disappearing figure, a slight exasperated groan escaping his lips. He hated how she had urged him on, and then left him alone and had done whatever she had done to him, to Geoff as well.

As her eyes slid to the peripherals, the auburn haired beauty cloaked in the shadows of her heavy cloak gave a slight laugh. Bruce and Geoff would be preoccupied for a little bit of time, unsure of how to fix their situations. Scent of desired, sight of beauty, desire of secret lives. she had whispered to them, and now repeated in her mind, marveling over the power of her words uttered under her breath just before she had given each of them a luscious kiss. By the time either of them were recovered, she planned to be long gone, her task finished.

Sweeping past a servant girl as if she owned the place, she suddenly turned back and approached the servant. An exchange of whispered words, and the girl followed her into a side room. Minutes later, the mysterious woman emerged, clothed in the girl’s servant clothes. She held a tray upon her hand, several glasses of water atop it. She assumed the well-oiled role of servant and walked down the corridor toward the room that the servant had been kind enough to inform her of the whereabouts of Lady Arleni. A knock was delivered to the richly decorated doors, before pushing it open. Inside, Arleni was seated at her desk, speaking into a portal-cast, through which the auburned haired woman saw a male elf nodding and replying to Arleni in their native language. A glance her way, and down to the tray in hand, Arleni waved the servant closer before finishing up her conversation with the other elf.

The servant strode closer and her hands extended the tray further, awaiting Arleni to choose her water. Her eyes watched carefully each movement of the elven woman, and just as Arleni grasped the glass, a snake-like length of tail wrapped itself around Arleni’s wrist and violently yanked downward. Arleni let out a cry of surprise, her eyes blazing as she looked up at the servant-woman, the realization that something was wrong crossing her features.

Arleni’s throat was clenched tightly, and a hand placed upon the elven woman’s face. A terrible dark energy surged forth. Arleni’s arms at first attempted to grasp and claw at the woman’s restraining arms, but soon they fell limp at her side. The woman removed her hands and dropped the elven woman to the ground. She watched as Arleni’s glazed eyes looked up in fear, her lips quivering slightly as she struggled to move. Her motor skills were missing though, for a paralysis had settled in. The woman had only allowed her to live the last few minutes as she delivered her a speech that would chill her to the core.

Kneeling down over the prostrate elf, the woman’s skin shifted tones, her eyes shifting to her demonic ones, her tail springing free of the clothes. She slid out of the clothes she had stolen and grinned a row of sharp canines down at her. “Arleni…powerful Arleni. So easy to take you down, and you were unaware. Come on, Arleni…really, I expected more of you. I suppose I gave you too much credit then. I feared your reprisal more than your ignorant daughter, you know. If you’re this easy…”

Arleni’s eyes grew wide with fear, a guttural sound echoing from her lungs. Seconds later, she began to scream as she felt red-hot fingernails slicing into her flesh with rapid speed. The woman’s hand clenched tightly over her mouth. Her chest heaved heavily, yet the woman held her down. “The name’s Lillit, not that you really care. So long Arleni Greenwood. You’ll never see your precious afterlife!”

And with that, she bent low over Arleni’s face and inhaled sharply. Arleni’s body violently shook, then collapsed once more, Arleni’s eyes growing cold with death as her soul was devoured into the dark matrix of Lillit’s power. Lillit gave her a tap on the cheek and smiled darkly. She rose and reassumed the servant appearance within moments. Five minutes later, she strode down the corridor, the tray in hand. Her next target would be fun for her.

Entering the war room, she instantly spied the General poring over maps being illuminated in front of him. Occasionally he spoke a command aloud, watching as different map types revealed themselves. Currently, a topographical map was in view, detailing each hill, mountain, tree, and stream all across Tarlachia.

“Sir…Some water? Refreshments?” the servant called. She watched as he approached and nodded, “About time you got here.” He took a deep draw of the water. Over the edge of the glass, he noted she was still there. Lowering the glass, he looked at her, “You’re finished here.”

She shook her head, “Sir, If I might be so bold to make a request.” He lowered the red file in his hand, marked "Top Secret". Inside, a new weapon of incredible magnitude had been developed. On the table next to him was the remote.

Her dark eyes shifted upward to meet his.

---------------------------------------------

“Mother…” came the whispered voice after a sharp inhale. Several footsteps later, the elven maiden knelt down and held the elder elf’s head in her lap as she checked for her vitals. The chest did not raise, the heart failed to deliver a beat, the pupils failed to react to light. A tear slid down the maiden’s cheek as she gently pulled her mother’s head to her and collapsed into anguished sobs. Her eyes traveled down to the fingernail-incised inscription upon Arleni’s exposed abdomen, ‘Courtesy of Abaddon, Destroyer of Worlds and Lillit, Succubus of the Depths’. Next to it, and equally torn into her flesh, a bloody rose was displayed. She remained this way for some time until at last; she gently laid the body down upon the ground. She surveyed the damage around her. The earthquake had destroyed a lot, too much. There had been no warning, no chance to protect oneself. Besides her mother’s body next to her, nearly three million other bodies lay in bloody heaps all throughout the remains of Turath.

Silently, she cursed the General’s name, but understood what he had been faced with. It was a decision between eternal torture…or one last hope to eliminate the Demon-lord. However, Abaddon had survived, and now was elsewhere. How he had survived, she longed to know. His whereabouts though, she now desired above all things.

She turned away, anger slowly filling her eyes. Her body glowed slightly, a strong protection spell that shielded her, lest she suffer from toxic fumes rising from ruptured lines. A desire to kill a desire to shred her foe apart piece by piece filled her heart with each step. Breaking into a run, she ran out of the castle ruins, past the rescue workers in solemn gear. Several stopped to watch her flee the ruins before returning to their gruesome tasks. As she reached the edge of the shattered city and crossing the threshold where the great walls of Turath had once stood, she paused and surveyed the land surrounding the city. The earth was tossed asunder, raped of all life in one swift, brutal move. In her mind, she knew the destructive power of nuclear weapons, remnants of old-age weapons of mass destruction, yet this manufactured force of nature’s fury was far worse. At least half of the Forest Aria would have been swallowed instantly, and what few fires burned would spread throughout the rest of the Forest. The River Aria would be polluted, coursing death throughout the currents. Cities, towns, farmlands, anything nearby would have been devastated to ruins.

Her hand reached out and grasped an invisible object and wrenched it into view. As she pulled it closer, her body exploded in blinding light. Her white robes flared outward, and her hair blew about wildly, the auburn strands snapping into pure white color. Great wings spread outward, unearthly white feathers gracing them as they fluttered against the dead air. Her eyes shifted from deep brown to emerald green, blazing even more as they finished. The robes wrapped around her limbs and tightened around her body until no loose ripples could be seen.

Her ethereal wings lifted her rapidly into the skies until she hovered between the heavens and the mortal earth. Her mouth parted slightly as she inhaled deeply. Tight fingers clenched the staff in her hand as it moved to its position in front of her.

And then her voice shattered the dead air like a siren, her voice rising in decibels and rushing outward in every direction,

“ABADDON!!!!”

A bright light near her tore her attention away, only for her to lay eyes upon her mentor, Liam. His eyes were filled with equal fury, and yet it seemed that it couldn’t match her own. He remained close, but far enough to remain out of her immediate vicinity.

National Seismic Institute
10 Miles South of Pembrooke


James Dohm sat in the lounge, his foot bouncing on the floor. His eyes were wide as he bit his lips and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the pages of Clive Cussler’s Shock Waves. The thirty-three year old technician was enjoying it immensely, but as with all good things, they must end. A red light began to flash and a klaxon began to blare in the building. Placing a menu for a Chinese take away in the book, he ran out into the hallway and pushed his way past scientists and others to reach his station.

The room was filled wall to wall with computers and printers, in the center of the room was a hologram the size of a pool table. Four men and women were around it as it showed the region of Fatal Terrain, their faces pale as they gripped the table. James then felt it. The tremor came hard and fast.

The man was knocked off of his feet by it and sent tumbling into a pile of printer paper that was shooting out of the machine faster than bullets from a Vulcan. Then, it was gone, traveling farther away. “James get over here now!”

The man scrambled to his feet, ignoring the gash on his forehead from where his head struck a computer. He pulled out a keyboard and began to hammer away at it. The hologram came to life in a flurry of colors and sounds yet it didn’t stay solid. The people stared at it, only two bits of information came out. One, the quake was much bigger than ever seen before, two, it was coming from Tarlachia. The hologram continued to whine in protest as James tried to filter the information. The device finally gave out. Word came that all the other devices had either overloaded or the tremor had killed them.

Tarlachia. James thought. What in God’s name is going on?


Nicole coughed, dust flew out of her dead lungs and into the air. Her eyes slowly cracked open and she stared up into the peaceful night sky of Tarlachia. Her body hurt and her mind was hazy. What had happened? The last thing she recalled was she and Stephen had been in Maximus City and had bumped into an old friend of Stephen’s. Hands were barely shaken when the world went into slow motion. Stephen’s face turned to terror as he pushed Nicole away as concrete tumbled around him, it was the last she had seen of her husband.

The vampiress slowly pushed herself up, pain shooting through her arms like lightening. She cried out and looked herself over. Her black was now a grey-tan color from the dust and there was dried blood on her legs. She looked around, the city was in ruins and the air was heavy with the scent of blood. Standing, Nicole limped over to where she had last seen Stephen. She found her husband lying on his back, his eyes shut, dried blood covering his face and he was pinned under what used to be a motorcycle.

Though in pain, Nicole managed to push the bike off Stephen and she fell next to him. She tapped his shoulder. “Stephen…Stephen…”

Nicole shook him, no response. Her fingers went to his throat, but not pulse. Of course there isn’t. He is a vampire. She thought angrily to herself. Nicole couldn’t tell if he was dead or unconscious. But, no matter what she had to get him out of here, before any fires started or mobs come down for them.

Screaming in pain, she picked him up and held him with one arm behind her neck and her other arm holding his waist. Nicole’s eyes were in tears as she moved through the ruins, from the pain and from the destruction. No doubt Ranci or whatever his name was had caused it. The sweet smell of the night air washed over her as she came up from the depths. Nicole got only a few more feet before collapsing, Stephen falling next to her. The last thing she remembered was a large shape flying above her.

Darius landed next to the vampires. He had followed them since they had left Turath. Off in the distance his eyes could see the glow of the fires in the city. Something evil had come into this land, something that would destroy the whole nation before giving up. So far, the darkness seemed to be winning. He sniffed Nicole and Stephen. Both were alive, but just barely. Stephen himself was unconscious and probably wouldn’t wake for a while.

Darius gently picked them up one at a time in his jaws and set them on his back. Spreading his wings, he gently took off into the sky and headed to the mountains. He would take them to a peaceful cave high up where they could rest and recover. And where they would be safe from the darkness.

The Tanaaran Seismological Institute, the nations foremost center of such studies sounded a national alert just minutes after their numerous remotes sent the data to them. Tanaara had never been particularly plagued with tectonic activity, but the nation had always believed in being prepared. It had, fortunately for the nation, always been a required standard to construct any multi storey building to specific standards- and one of them was to withstand earth tremmors of a minimum of 8.5. The shivers that racked the nation were worse than that, especially along their eastern border with Tarlachia. However the border which wound through the mountains was mostly unpopulated, though the many mines there suffered heavily. Production would be hindered for many years, and the numerous resorts in the area would require massive rebuilding.

Else where there was great loss of property, but again, due to the building codes, loss of life was moderate. However one of those lives lost was Her Royal Majesty Holli Golightly, Queen of Tanaara. In that instant Mercedes
Merrideath Hexx became Queen, and the linked status bracelet she wore shrilled and went from green to red.

Mercy cursed as she looked at the view screen in ShadowDancers bridge. The devestation it showed - she wondered if Tarlachi would be able to remain a cohesive nation. The screen rotated though it's linkages to various satallites showing destruction arcoss the region known as Fatal Terrain. She let her breath out as she noted that, while severe, the damage Tanaara had sustained was less that that which devestated Tarlachia, where the epicenter had been located.

She looked at Perigrine "We're going to need aid from the Empire" and the Empress's Hand nodded.

"I'm going to put the five oh first on the far side of the mountains. Tha is inside of Tarlachia but it is better ground for them to fight on if it comes to that." The Neitzscehan stated as she opened up a commo link and issued the necessary orders. Then she looked over to Sha'do who'd opened up an FTL commo link with the Tanaran Empress, Kaylinde Moore directly and given her the preliminary assessment. After a brief discussion the Tanaran Empress agreed to send more military and as much non military aid as the Empire could, and that was a considerable amount.

Mercy had apprised the surviving government of Tanaara , which was only slightly dmanaged that she was aware of her change of status and that she would be returning to Tanaara with in twenty four hours. She brought the military up to full war readiness and sealed the borders.

The ShadowDancer had just lifted off when the Grazer weapon had made it's first- and only strike. Even in atmosphere ShadowDancers photonic weapons worked just fine and the weapons platform that housed the Grazer became so much nothing. But the massive earthquake had already been triggered, and it's after shocks would be nearly as ferocious. At ShaDo's orders the ship hovered some fifty miles up, still on the fringes of the atmosphere but safe from anything else. All contact with Tarlachia's government had been lost and the shattered remenants of the military seemsed to be in complete disarray as well.

Perigrine moved to the next stage. Coded, unbreakabl encryped orders went out to every starcraft of the Tarlachian military that Tanara had given to them. Though their captains and crew would not know until they needed to, those ships were now once again under Tanaran control. Long burried commands with in their AI's had been activated, precautions in place since their hand over to Tarlachia. The Empire would not let their ships be misused.

"Mercy, Peri, I have a ...well, just take a look at this." ShadowDancer informed them as she brought up an image of two glowing winged figures, one male of female and holding a staff. "She is shouting Abbadon's name"

*****************************************

Shalamar was thrown from the porch swing when the first heavy jolt made the ground roil. She'd been more than half asleep and only her limpness had saved her from major injury. Smug and MBC too had been tosssed about but their instincitve taking to the air saved them. The house shuddered, groaned and collapsed in upon it'self as the tremmor continued, lasting nearly three minutes.Earthquakes are an assault on the senses. The inner ear rebells, the nose is over come by the stench of released gasses and ruptured sewerlines, They are noisy- the earth rumbles, and shrieks as it is tortured, the very air dances, distorting vision.

Dazed, the Lady of Cats Keep could only clutch the ground as it rolled beneath her. She watched, helpless, as a vast crack opened up and swalled her main stables, taking thirty of her beloved horses to a hideous death as the crack then closed. The garage with it's second floor of apartments where her ranch hands lived collapsed as wwell, unable to withstand the rise and fall of the fractured earth.

David Trinidad was making his way from Vrastlian to Upper Dalaran upon the request by Darius to help him with some government affairs. It had been some time since he had been to the city in the sky. He hadn't been there since Samantha had broken up with him. He still didn't know why, all she said was that it was for the best. It irritated him that she shoved him off like that with such a feeble excuse, and if it were not for Darius helping him through his early years, he would not be going back. But as it was, he was flying the short distance to see what he could do to assist.

It was as he was making his decent over the city that he noticed that many of the citizens were making their way to the walls and peering over them. He was curious as to why they were acting strangely, and that is when he saw it. In the distannce, the earth had opened up and he could see the rolls of the earth making it's way to the border viillages.

"By the Gods..." he faintly said as he surveyed the destruction.

As he hovered there, just staring at the carnage, Samantha had come out of the FA office. She had looked up into out of habit, and was quite taken back when she say David there hovering and staring off into the distance. She cursed him silently, it was bad enough that he had to be here, but not to even have the curtisity to come in and announce himself.

"Get down here You!" she yelled as she tapped her foot impatiently. She was getting even more livid at him as he continued to hover there as if she hadn't said anything at all.
"What could you be staring at that could be soo important?"
Suddenly snapping back to reality, David slowly came down. As he landed next to Samantha, she greeted him with her usual distasteful expression.
"Well? What were you staring at?"
"Perhaps we should talk inside.
"Hrmph, if you insist."

As the two made their way inside, Darius was busy answering the numerous lines to the various cities and angencies. He motioned to them to sit down and they complied and began their wait. Thirty minutes later, Darius finnaly hung up the phone. He turned to his two guests and gave a grim expression. Samantha, unaware to the catastrophe that had just taken place, looked on curiously as to why the men wore such grim expressions.
"What is the matter with you two? Is it "be depressed day" and someone forget to tell me?"

Darius was the one to speak,

"My lady, something unimaginable has just occured. An .. an.... an earthquake that registered 11 on the Richter scale. It orginated in Tarlachia and its tremors are being felt throughout the region. Millions, perhaps billions of lives have been lost in the region. Luckily, the majority of our buildings were built to withstand a 8.5, and the loss of life has been minimal. All we can do now is hope this is not the start of a seris of earthquakes, because I do not believe our buildings would stand up to them after this." He turns to David. "Your mission to gather intelegence in Tarlachia is now even more great. Be swift, be silent, be safe."

David nodded sullenly, and made his way outside. He knew that he could very well lose his life if he were not careful. He was afraid, for he had never been outside the nation before. Yet he had read many books about a few of the neighboring nations, and he knew that there were many dangers in Tarlachia. As he stepped out the door, and was getting ready to take off, he felt a soft hand ruffle through his wings. He turned and was suprised to see Samantha there with tears in her eyes.

"Listen you, just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean I don't still have feelings for you. So you better be careful, and come back to me, or else I am going to kill you.'

She dives into his chest and he catches her. Looking down into her eyes, they exchange a glance that clearly showed that each was afraid for the other. Just as the glance ended, she stepped back, and he gave a wink as he made his way into the air, and onwards to Tarlachia.

The cursed land of Arithon was not immune to the events taking place within Tarlachia, there just didn't happen to be any life or infrastructure present within the wasteland to be destroyed. Arithon was distracted from his tasks as the tremors passed through his land, fracturing the land, causing volcanoes to erupt and generally making a bigger mess of things. Of course that was of little concern to the demon lord.

It appeared all was going well within Tarlachia, the nation would have undergone mass destruction due to the quakes, killing a large part of any resistance his demonic army would encounter in the future. Ignoring the molten rock flowing freely behind him, Arithon stood and made his way towards the largest peak amongst this place, a volcano so large and powerful it had the potential to cover the entire region in a thick cloud of ash. Of course it was dormant at the moment due to his will, Arithon couldn't have his little toy going off at the slightest bump.

Willing himself to the top of the peak, Arithon used his position and enhanced sight to look over the border and into Tarlachia. He could already see pillars of smoke rising from damaged cities and imagined the chaos was even more glorious up close. This Abaddon character was just the catalyst he needed to get his own plans in motion.

With the after effects now over, Arithon began concentrating upon the preparation of his army once again, yet found himself distracted once again. Ripples of an extreme rage coursed over Arithon's demonic senses, a lone word recognisable amongst the waves of fury. Arithon cursed. He supposed it was only a matter of time until the angelics involved themselves.

As Nicole attempted to awaken Stephen, the city around her continued to fall apart, victim to gravity as the support structures that were spread throughout the underground retired base-turned-city failed. A large slab of concrete and earth slammed into the earth near her, sending great plumes of dirt and dust into the air around them, just as Darius swept them up and carried them to safety via a large hole in the earth above them.

As they approached the mountains, they could see a number of draconians, human and full-bred alike swarming over the mountains. From place to place, they could see a number of draconians caught by surprise and killed by the quake.

Down on the earth below, on the slopes of one of the mountains, Tokram turned his gaze skyward as he heard the approach of Darius. He nodded to the dragon, a long time respected fellow draconian. He noted briefly the presence of passengers, but knew that if Darius trusted them, then all was fine. At least on that aspect. He returned his gaze unto the corpse of an old man, his head and shoulders above a fissure in the earth. Inside the fissure, it was clear that the shifting earth had opened, then closed again, crushing him in its surprise encounter. Solemnly, Tokram knew that Darius would probably be asked to become an official elder now that his clan’s elder was now just about as flat as a pancake.
-------------------------------------------------

From the depths of the earth, a crackling sound could be heard as dark black and crimson energy formed a dome that bulged upward with slow anticipation. As it rose, the earth bulged upward in response until it fell away in great chunks. The dome continued to rise until it was clear of the earth’s surface. Slowly, it receded back into the master whom had formed the dome, Abaddon. His eyes incinerated with such a fury as he surveyed the land around him. This had not been part of his plan. No, he had merely wished to destroy those that stood in his way, but preserve the very nation they had formed and turn it to his control.

Lillit! Where are you? he demanded silently, his telepathic voice seeking her mind as he looked over at Nez’Gah whom stood next to him. Nez’Gah too seemed surprised by the extensive destruction that had occurred here. A soft voice entered Abaddon’s mind, belonging to Lillit, I’m injured, but all right. Campin did this. Some weapon of mass destruction connected to the plates deep in the earth. Rather ingenious, however none of it is salvageable. It says so in the remnants of this file I saw near him right before he triggered the quake.

Abaddon paused as he thought this over, Is he dead then?
Lillit replied, Yes. Killed by falling debris, unfortunately. His soul, I was able to mark for Hell, with your name on it.
Abaddon growled slightly. Campin would suffer for eternity, he would make sure of it. Good. Now, I’ve a few angelics to kill off. Get to my side as soon as you can.

With that, he nodded to Nez’Gah, “Time to meet our foes.” He strode forth, using his inbred demonic speed to cross over vast tracts of land with ease until he was near the hovering anglics. His own dark wings unfurled and lifted him into the air opposite of them. His eyes sought out Aeris’ own, while Nez’Gah kept a distasteful eye upon the Celadrin clan elder.

Abaddon’s voice cried out to her, “You live. How unfortunate. That shall be remedied.”

Suddenly, without warning, the aftershocks began, sending tremors through the earth once more. Although they weren’t as strong as the original quake, they were still quite strong enough to cause additional damage throughout the nation.

The time had come, his forces must be called to attention for the final stages of this operation to commence. Arithon stood alone upon the ashen planes behind a massive lake of molten rock, his figure near impossible to see amongst the smoke and ash filled air. Evidently the conditions of this place were not appropriate for colonisation by most other living creatures, yet it never bothered Arithon's demons, save for the occassional lava death, yet that wasn't too common anyway.

Arithon was now faced with a task that would require most of his power, opening a substantial portal to allow an army of demonic warriors into this world. He'd never committed to such a large scale relocation of forces before, but if things succeeded than his efforts combined with Abaddon's would enable a permanent portal to be established within the hell zone he stood within.

Discarding his cloak, Arithon quickly discarded his human form and took his true physical shape, growing in height and width, muscles bulging and other obviously inhuman features becoming apparent. Horns spiralled off the leathery crimson skin of his head, reaching towards the sky as eyes of pure darkness looked several down upon the ground, several metres higher than they previously viewed the world.

Now able to channel much more power, Arithon began calling upon the energies that were woven into his very being, the power designated to those of his status. The air thickened with a crackling of electricity as Arithon's power came to bear and he unleashed it.

An initial shockwave of energy roared forth from his postion, causing the entire land mass underneath him to rumble in awe at his power. Beams of energy arced forth from Arithon's limbs, all focusing into a sphere several metres before him. This continued for several minutes until he unleashed another wave of power, causing the beams to leave the spectrum of light visible to most creatures and enter a place only visible to creatures of a higher nature.

The air shimmered surrounding Arithon, surrounding the flats before him. A final roar of effort escaped rough lips as Arithon unleashed one final surge, the air exploding in raw fury as lightning strikes struck a single, invisible target upon the earth, tearing upon the barriers between Arithon and this world, opening a gateway for his minions.

The winds changed direction as the sulfur filled atmosphere was sucked into the portal before it stabalised, creating a clear window between worlds.

"Come, my army..."

With that said, fifty demonic warriors of the most brutal breed stepped through the portal, shoulder to shoulder. Arithon smiled and nodded, watching as another row passed into this world. The army was composed of many differing breeds, most of them bred to fight and kill, yet some held higher intelligence and arcane abilities, the commanders.

Everything was coming along quite nicely, soon enough Tarlachia would be overrun by his army.
__________________

Nez'gah immediately followed Abaddon, employing his own demonic strengths to follow at high speeds with relative ease, evading the multiple objects that would get in his way. Within minutes they had arrived at their destination, a rather unpopulated area of little significance, save for two figures hovering within the air. Angelics.

Abaddon obviously had his eyes upon the female, evidently part Tarlachian elf judging by her appearance. Whom he fought was of no concern to Nez'gah, he was always happy to spill the blood of those that would see his master's plans hindered.

Discarding his clothing, Nez'gah assumed his full form and stood before the angel, his own leathery wings extending in order to lift himself into the air. Displaying a grin armed with razor sharp teeth, Nez'gah chuckled briefly before charging towards the angel, preparing to ram one of the many spines upon his forearm into his enemy.

Yet as Nez'gah approached, inches from the angel, he disappeared in a brief flash and found himself behind his enemy, the spine upon his elbow being rammed backwards towards Liam's back.

Nez'gah had learned many tricks during his thousands of years in combat. The demon had originated as a warrior broodling and was one of the few that possessed the determination or strength to rise through demonic ranks. He would be a formidable opponent indeed.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, Nicole saw the snow capped mountains swarming with activity as full breed dragons and the dragon-humans worked to save those trapped below. Her hand weakly wrapped around Stephen’s and she titled her head to see him, still coated in blood, still out cold.

They hit the ground and as she saw several dragons in the night sky circling above Darius’s cave before the dragon marched into the cool darkness. She felt Stephen’s hand slip away as he was removed from the dragon and then she felt the gentle jaws of the giant pick her up and lay her next to him on a bed of soft leaves and pine needles. She tried to speak, but didn’t have the strength before passing out again, going into a deep, restful slumber.

Darius looked at the two vampires for a while before looking at his old cave. Where the vampires were was only a small corner of what used to be the nest where he had courted and won the heart of a young Cassandra. Now, the den was pocketed with rocks and most of the damage had covered the nest. He was glad after Cassandra had laid the eggs containing their offspring she had convinced him to help her move them to the Golden Simatar because it was fresh territory for their pups to claim as their own and form their own families without worry of bumping into another clan or dragon group.

He turned as he heard his name called from the cave entrance. Taking one last look at the sleeping vampires, he marched the entrance, ready to beat back whoever it was. To his surprise, he found two of his siblings and a few human draconian; the latter seemed the most pissed of the group. He stared at his siblings, his sisters Tala and his brother Tak. Darius was the second oldest of a clutch of eight eggs and with all dragon births from the same clutch, who was oldest was determined by either seconds or minutes; Darius was second oldest by only a few seconds as when he burst his head free he saw another small dragon stumbling towards a dead bear placed there by two massive dragons, whom of course were his parents.

Tak stepped forward, his ice blue scales were covered in dirt and dust. “Good to see you’re back Darius…just surprised you brought moonwalkers with you.”

“Agreed Darius…they are the ones that caused this destruction.” Tala barked angrily, her eyes immediately put Darius on his guard. “They and their demonic friends have killed many of our clan.”

“You have them wrong.” Darius said. “They are not evil as most moonwalkers are. They have fought many battles in their land and other lands against evil forces to protect the innocent. They were friends with the King and came to pay their respects and to help fight off the darkness.”

“Some help they are.” Tak said. “They have done nothing and we suffer. Anora is dead Darius because of them…and most of her pups are too. Only one lived and Tala has taken her in.”

Darius took a step back in shock, the oldest of their brood, Anora, oldest to him by less than thirty seconds, the one he was always closest to, dead. He lowered his head, depression taking away much of the animal’s spirit. Then, he looked up. “We shall mourn her and all the others. But now we must work to find survivors…if eggs are found…take them in till the parents are found…if not raise them as your own.”

“And kill those moonwalkers.” One of the human draconic said. He tried to advance, but found Darius’s tooth lined jaw wide open in front of him, the great beasts roar knocked him back. Anger against the perceived demonic threat made Tak try to push his way past Darius, only to have his brother stand on his hind legs and hold him back, biting into his neck just behind his head, enough to get the younger dragon to back off.

“They are not to be harmed.” Darius said, still on his hind legs, his wings outstretched in typical intimidation form. “They will be great help once they have rested against the evil in this nation. Now if I see anyone who smells like them…”

Darius let the obvious go unsaid. He wouldn’t let anyone get near Stephen and Nicole. If he did, he knew Cassandra would push him away and he would lose his mate in a more terrible way than death. Tala and Tak looked at Darius before taking off to help clear the debris on other mountains. The human draconics left a few minutes later. To ensure safety, Darius pushed a large boulder in front of the cave, leaving a crack wide enough only a bird could get through to provide some fresh air to the vampires. There was a bend in the cave before the nest, so they were safe from the sun when it rose.

It took him nearly an hour to reach Tokram. Along the way he aided in removal of rocks from caves and each time there would be joy when the living were found and sadness when a crushed and twisted form was found buried in the rubble. The discovery of dead young, their small bodies crushed under the weight of stone, their eyes staring blankly off into the distance brought more sadness than anything. Darius noted with some satisfaction, that Tala and Tak had spread his word and when eggs and young were found, they were taken away to nests that had not been severely effected by the quakes.

Darius marched up a hill and found Tokram directing a working detail. “Tokram.”

When the half-breed turned, Darius motioned him over with a tilt of his head. When Tokram got next to him, he could see the sadness in the animal’s eyes. Darius mumbled to himself. “I am happy Cassandra wanted to live in the Golden Simatar…I do not know what I would do without her.”

The dragon looked at Tokram and he slowly eased himself down onto the ground, bringing himself to eye level with Tokram. “So far…at least thirty dead…including a dozen young ones from fresh from the egg to a few years old. I cannot believe this…I have lived here nearly four hundred years and I never seen the earth move like it did. Have you? What do you think caused it? This creature Ranci who is leading the moonwalkers?”

Tarlachia-Arithon border

Just beyond the borders of the nation in turmoil, Arithon had been hard at work keeping the Gates of hell open to allow his minions into a world never seen by many of them before. The demons varied in races, yet all shared a bloodlust unseen on this world. It was why they had been in Hell in the first place. And now, they had been set loose, only restrained by the command of Lord Arithon.

With a resounding cry, Arithon urged them forward unto the unsuspecting nation to their southwest, Tarlachia. What Abaddon had begun, Arithon would finish. Countless feet pounded the earth, intermingling with the sporadic aftershocks of the unbelievable quake that had ravaged the region.

______________________________________

Five miles northeast of Turath, Tarlachia

Above the asundered earth, an epic battle began with startling speed. Liam drove his staff backwards, just as Nez'gah's spine came within reach of the angel's backside. Spinning rapidly and moving aside to face the demon, Liam was slightly surprised to see the end of the spine to the side of his face. The staff was brought upward to ram the demon in the side and causing him to recoil from the impact. Without letting up the counterattack, the angel closed his eyes momentarily, and opened them to reveal iridiscent white eyes having replaced the blue ones. It was clear he was fully tapped into his arcane sources, and the staff clarified this with a blinding light that shone in front of Nez'gah's face at about waist level. The staff was spun rapidly as the ends of it split open into four blades that drove toward the demon's head.

Aries herself had her own battle to protect her life in, and thusly was unable to assist her mentor and friend. Abaddon's hand issued a dark ball of energy that slammed into her, causing her to spin backward in the air before she recovered and returned her own energy. Her face was full of rage, and his of hatred. With a resounding cry, Aeris charged forward with her staff's basepoint aimed toward Abaddon and ready to spear him. Her attack was stunningly fast, catching him off-guard.

Abaddon roared in anger and pain as the spear buried itself into his abdomen, yet he snarled at her as his hands gripped the staff and forced it backward and out of his flesh. He thrust it downward, which she spun about to recover to her use again.

A crackling sound was heard, and overhead the sunlight was extinguished as dark rolls of clouds came overhead and lightning began to flash. A mixture of rain and hail drove earthward as Liam's eyes glowed eerily. His body glistened with further eeriness as he commanded the weather to focus upon the two demons...

______________________________________

West of Snowy Peaks, Tarlachia

Tokram glowered as Darius spoke of Ranci. His tone was cold, his teeth clenched, "Either way, he's responsible." Tokram declared at last. He turned to wave his hand toward the dead that were being gathered slowly. "Nothing can bring back our families."

He lowered his arm and strode to the edge of a newly formed cliff, looking toward the east. In the far distance, and with his draconic genes assisting him, he could see the distant ruins of various cities. Farthest from his sight and barely seen was Turath. Just as he was about to turn back, a flash of light was seen. Furrowing his brow, he focused on the spot where he had seen it. "Something's happening." he muttered as he finally turned to Darius. He noted that Darius had shifted to his human form, like Tokram.

"Come, look at this." he stated as he raised a hand and pointed to the location of interest. As Darius moved to his side and looked, they watched as clouds from all around churned quickly and gravitated there. Alarm was seen in Tokram's face as he realized what was going on at last.

"Battle." he stated. "It has begun."

Turning quickly, he ran back to where many of the other brethen were situated and quickly called their attention.

"Brothers...sisters...as you know, many of us have suffered from these quakes, and lives were lost as a result. Ranci must still be alive, for I have just observed, as has Darius here, elements of battle to the far east. The fighting has begun now...and it will only be a matter of time before Ranci calls in his support armies, if any still exist."

Tokram looked amongst them all, noting the anger that began to rise to their faces again. "Those armies will be vast, and we are but few. But we are the true Tarlachians, and we are all the humans have left. While we have lost a good number of our brethren to this quake, the humans and elves alike have lost more, much more."

"Revenge!" cried an elder Draman whom stepped forward as he did so to address them, "We cannot sit here and let them do this! We must defend anything we can of Tarlachia! We must drive them back from whence they came and re-establish Tarlachia as belonging to Tarlachians alone!"

Tokram strode forward and held his arms up, "Wait! We must follow the rules of our society first! Elders of each clan, I seek your voice here and now. If you are a newly established elder, do no hide, for your voice is needed here!" Tokram looked toward Darius, as he spoke again, "Darius...your elder was killed. I was helping to extract his body when you first arrived. You are the new elder of your clan."

As Tokram turned his attention away, he watched as fifteen elders strode forward to join him in a circle. Darius stepped forward lastly, a forboding look upon his face, yet a sense of determination. One by one, each of them cast their vote. As one race, they all agreed on one thing. Ranci had worn out his welcome long ago, and eviction was necessary. The vote became unanimous in favor of sending a wrath-infused army, small as it may be, to wreak considerable damage upon the armies that were undoubtedly coming.

"It is settled by unanimous vote. We go to war!" Tokram cried. The rest of them released war cries in turn as many of them turned to the east. A few preparations would be necessary first before they departed, particularly obtaining their draconian shielding that sat in caves throughout the mountains. A few of the older dragons would not require the shielding, as their scales would be so thick that penetration would be impossible.

Roaring deeply, Tokram tore his clothes from his body and allowed his bones to expand exponentially. His human skin-toned scales grew darker, more crimson as he felt his hands and feet morph into giant clawed feet. His face became elongated, and his sharpened teeth grew in length as well. He released another roar as his skin upon his backside ruptured and bloodied bones covered with thick leathery skin stretched outward and spanned to their fullest lengths. His snout expelled a blast of fire upon a nearby rock wall, scorching the surface with thousands of degrees. Massive in size, he turned his head to observe the progress of the remaining draconians. They would prepare, and wait for his signal to depart.

"You need to get me to Montguard." Mercy stated "I can't do much to get the government back together from here."

Perigrine nodded. It would not take the Shadow Dancer long to get the new monarch of Tanaara back to the central seat of that nations government.

"SadowDancer, make it so. Sha'Do warm up the FTL commo again. I thiink they are going to have to call in the UU, and the TCorps."

"Oh thats going to be fun." The Avatar commented sourly. Time travel gave her the willies."

"Do it and tell them to jump back at least a day, and don't be subtle about who they grab. They can deal with the trauma later." Perigrine didn't believe in soft soaping problems.

By the time that they had clearance to touch down with in the palace grounds ShaDo was able to report that the UU would begin 'salvage' openations two days prior. They estimated that over a million Tarlachians could be gathered in that time and a dedicated 'hollow world' habitat could be in earth orbit for them. They estimated that after the quakes hit they could salvage another three million, but it would take much longer.

"And no they refust to stop the quakes. They consider that too much interferance."

**************************Time is a wonderful thing, so ever moving...ever malleable, yes, unchangeable, yes too, in it's own way...tamper with it at ones own risk, but if you decide to then do it right...

The Universal University, the immense world ship that sailed the universe, sending scholars to study ever where and ever when.

The UU scholars researched the results of the quakes for fifteen years, after sending the WayFarer back to 'hold station' and once the orbital habitat was completed- a habitat designed to house nearly twenty million people and be fully self sustaining- it too was jumped back into earth orbit just outside that of the orbit of the moon.

The teams salvaged two million Tarlachians in the two days before the quakes. They would save anouther five million in the next four weeks, and another ten million in the ten weeks after that.

They refused to negate the quakes, and equally refused to say why. It was their priviledge.

High above the planet, the ShadowDancer spun on her keel, sensors taking in the activity in and above the region of the planet known as Fatal Terrain.

"Boss we have a problem. I'e got an energy signature like none I've seen be...no, like I've seen once before. When we got dumped here. Some one's opened a rift in the dimentions, and they are bringing one wierd looking army though." Sha'Do displayed the information for Perigine.

"Sha'Do..."

"I know what you're thinking Perigrine." The avatar interupted her friend. "We know what made 'our' rift and what closed it....I don't think theres anything living in that wasteland any way, and the quakes have released so much tectonic stress that it shouldn't cause more. But if my readings are right - and I believe that they are- if we don't then the amry that will come through is enough to decimate the entire region."

"Do it" Perigrine said firmly.

She destroyed at star once, and the system that it had given life to. She didn't even blink as the Nova missile was released.

It entered the atmosphere in the blink of an eye, and dove directly into the portal. A nova missile is designed to destroy the gravitic bonds of a star. What it does to a planet is much more extreme, however what kept the planet from being destroyed in far less than the blink on an eye is that the missile was set to detonate just the 'other ' side of the portal.

In that micromoment fully a third of Arithon's demonic army vanished, ripped from existance in any dimention, and the gate collapsed in as if it has never been. What else it did on the far side of the portal is not known, but it's nimbus reduced the wasteland to so much glass slag hundreds of meters thick.

Out of all the things Arithon had prepared for when it came to ensuring his army made it through the portal and into Tarlachia, a bomb dropping from orbit had never crossed his mind. And yet it happened, the demon lord watched in shock as the massive metallic device fell from the sky and plunged directly into his portal, resulting in a massive shock as the portal collapsed due to some form of massive explosion.

Just like that, one third of his attack force had been wiped out. Not injured, not merely killed but utterly destroyed, not a single remain of so many demons. Fortunately the collapsing portal had protected Arithon and the rest of the army from any damage, yet he imagined losses inside his world were quite high, most likely within the millions if the bomb was powerful enough to collapse his portal.

Screaming in anger, the demon lord released a single beam of pure rage towards the sky, up towards the source of the bomb. It wouldn't do any damage in the slightest, yet it gave Arithon a better idea of what and who was up there. He wouldn't forget them.

Calming himself, Arithon sent the final orders to his remaining forces and watched as the sprawled into Tarlachia, beginning the rampage that would see the final downfall of the nation. With that in order, Arithon disappeared from the wasteland within Fatal Terrain and returned to his bomb ravaged demonic realm.
_________________

Nez'gah roared in anger at the angel's evasive actions, preventing the demon from skewering his opponent. No doubt this was a strong angelic, perhaps stronger than he'd ever encountered before. The battle would tell soon enough.

The angel's eyes turned bright white and Nez'gah matched the move, calling upon demonic energies directly from his world, his eyes becoming a black so deep not even light could penetrate it.

Carrying himself backwards, Nez'gah extended an arc of demonic energy from his arm and flung it towards Liam's staff, giving the demon enough time to call upon a real weapon of his own. Within seconds a rather mean looking blade had appeared within his grasp, the composition appearing to be jagged bones yet no doubt it's durability was far greater.

Shadows poured off the blade, spreading darkness around the pair as they clashed in combat, blade and staff meeting on several occassions. After several minutes of clashing, the pair broke off for a moment, this gave Liam the chance to call the weather to his aid. Nez'gah merely grinned, two could play that game.

The earth down beneath the four combatants began to rumble once again, yet this had nothing to do with the previous earthquakes. Fissures opened within the earth as the shakes became more violent. A few more moments passed and Liam found himself nearly burned to a cinder as a massive geyser of lava erupted from the ground, rocketing past the angel and high into the sky.

Nez'gah merely grinned. This would be a most interesting battle.

Darius was shocked to learn that he had been chosen to lead his clan to war. When he was young and flying around the mountains playing with his siblings and friends, they would form their own little pack and have mock councils and leaders to try and act more like their parents. Darius had never once in his whole life expected to be called upon to lead his kind, especially with him and his mate living in the Golden Simatar with pups only a few years old.

Darius shifted uncomfortably in his human form, he didn’t like it, it was uncomfortable, confining and of course he couldn’t fly. When council was called, he of course voted for going to war, he wanted the land purged of evil so Tarlachians could live in peace. Already the war had begun. When the leaders went off to gather their clans, Darius gladly shifted back into his dragon form and stretched his wings out. He never understood why the wolf-girl named Amara liked staying in her human form, it was so uncomfortable.

Darius first went to see Tala and Tak. He informed them of the decision and had them go to the rest of the clan to prepare for war. He hoped when it was over his clan would still be alive and Tak, Tala or another sibling would be alive too so he could hand the reins over and return home to his pups and Cassandra.

The dragon flew back to his cave, moved the bolder with ease and moved down into the cool darkness t the vampires still resting. He knew their help would be needed. With another clenching of his teeth, he transformed back to his human form. He first went to Stephen and propped the man up. Darius opened his mouth and his teeth grew a little, the dragon bit his own wrist and pressed it to Stephen’s mouth. The blood flowed down the vampire’s throat and into his belly. The blood was enough to cause Stephen to suckle on the wound, his own healing rapidly with the draconic blood flowing into his system.

Darius let Stephen go and made Nicole drink. Once she had fed, Darius cut her wrist and dribbled some of her blood onto his wrist to speed up the healing. Quickly cleaning the blood up from the vampire’s wrist, his own and their mouths, he transformed back into his original shape as Stephen opened his eyes.

The vampire looked at him. He held his head. “Jesus…my head.”

Darius spoke. “Don’t worry, you will be fine shortly. The dragon clans are going to war…sadly it is daytime right now. If the battle continues to the night, I will return to fetch you.”

Stephen nodded as Nicole moaned and opened her eyes. To his own surprise, through pain Nicole lunged onto Stephen, locking him in a passionate kiss, mentally praising the powers that be that he was alive. Stephen returned her love and looked at Darius. "Good luck my friend. Remember, Cassandra is waiting at home for you with your offspring."

The dragon nodded. “I know. That is why I fight. I will see you when the sun goes down my friends.”

Darius moved out into the mountains again and watched as his brethern prepared for battle. Tokram blew a jet of flame around him, Darius in his own right fired a sheet of ice down upon the rocks, freezing them to where they could be shattered like glass.

Darius took off to prepare his clan for battle.

David looked down to the world through the clouds and his heart sank more the closer he got to Tarlachia. Though part demon he was, he had developed a devout care for nature and all of its inhabitants. Now with this devestating destruction of the land and the numerous lives lost in the wake, it fueled a fire in him that he had felt just once before. All that he could think about now was finding out what caused this catastrophe and doing what he could to exact revenge.

As he crossed into Tarlachian land, he could feel something strange in the air. There were powers battling in the distance, powerful he could tell, but he couldn't gage them too accurately. He knew his objective, and he knew that the best way to stay alive was get out of sight. He sighted the remnants of a forest, and instinctively made his way into it. After a rocky landing, he started to search for the battling powers, and was astonished to find angelics as two of the combatents, but he couldn't make out their foes. Intruiged, he watched closely hoping to remain unnoticed thorughout the ordeal.

Sensing the dark energy coaxing the spires of lava skyward, Liam was barely able to dodge the searing lava. Looking upward at the clouds as he moved away from the lava, he muttered something to himself and watched as powerful waves of rain-water released from the clouds and slammed into the lava. Great quantities of steam issued from the impact, and surely but slowly, the lava turned black as it cooled and solidified.

Liam then looked toward Nez'Gah and held his staff toward him, a single bolt of light-energy rocketing toward him with astonishing speed. He charged his free hand with another spell, a disabling spell that would cause problems for the demon in regards to spell-casts. Hardly a second after the bolt surged forth, the silvery-white ball of energy followed in pursuit, quickly expanding to a large diameter to envelope the demon.

Aeris's jaw slammed upward and back as Abaddon's foot connected. As she recovered, she felt Abaddon's arm suddenly around her neck, tightening quickly from behind. Her wings having been restricted of movement thrashed, yet he held on as he drew a wicked looking knife and plunged it into the girl's side. "Time to die!" he hissed into her ear as her face changed colors from lack of oxygen, her fingers struggling to tear his arm off.

Her mouth opened as she felt the blade enter her flesh, yet no sound came out. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as she slowly began to see the edges of her vision becoming dark, the clarity of the world around her losing focus.

-----------------------------------------

Orbital pattern: Earth; directly overhead Tarlachia

Admiral Raost of the ISS Dragonfire looked upon the holo-screen detailing in full color and three dimensional view the ruins across the nation, switching to new frames every ten seconds. As the next screen came up, he felt his blood run cold. He turned to an officer nearby,

"Initiate emergency evacuations of the planet, all available ships deployed as soon as possible."

The officer nodded in understanding and ran to his post to deliver the orders. Within minutes, hundreds of small fighters capable of carrying up to ten persons each were en route to the planet. Mingled amongst them, larger ships traveled as well, capable of carrying 200 persons. Last to move in on command of the admiral were the twenty other motherships of the fleet. These ships could carry nearly three thousand persons at full capacity and still maintain full integrity and not suffer from decreased performance.

Raost looked upon the screen again, now split in two frames to show the incoming hordes of demons directly headed toward large congregations of Tarlachian quake survivors. On the other screen, he could see the massive fleet moving quickly to the planet's atmosphere. Already a few were developing friction-flares as they descended.

--------------------------------------

West of Snowy Peaks, Tarlachia

Tokram released a terrible roar, and was promptly answered by other dragons in the vincinity. Looking toward Darius he growled at him, indicating it was time.

Spreading his wings wide and beating them furiously, he sent great plumes of dust and wind back as he took to the air with ease and began to lead the vengeful army of dragons toward the fighting in the distance, and more importantly, toward the now more distinguishable large forces of demons

Releasing another throaty cry, Tokram dove sharply and released massive blasts of searing fire to the demons that replied with their own battle cries and screams of pain.

Darius looked up at Tokram as he gave his signal. Darius roared equally as loud and took off into the air. All around him hundreds of dragons of every species and size were moving swiftly against the demon armies. The fire dragons would have an easy time here, sweeping the ranks of demons with their deadly fire. Darius meanwhile had thought of a new twist on the old ice spear.

A thick phalanx of demons was before him and the dragon fired a large spike at them. If it continued its course, it might have gotten a dozen tops and the demons spread out a little, waiting for it to bury itself into the ground. Instead, the spike was greeted by one from Tak, both exploded a few meters in the air, showering the demons with thin, several inch long spikes of ice. Darius’s eyes caught the satisfying sight of numerous demons screeching as they were blinded, their throats being slashed or just stopped living immediately as spikes drove into their brains.

Darius roared in triumph and continued on with the battle.

Nez'gah had fought enough angelics to know how they fought, usually with an unsuspected wit and cunning. Of course he would be ready for anything the angel sent at him.

Noting the bolt of angelic power surging towards him, Nez'gah took up a defensive postion with his blade yet he did not devote himself completely to the task of evading or deflecting this attack for he expected Liam to continue his assault in the hope he could catch the demon off guard.

Almost immediately after launching his initial attack, Liam unleashed a spell towards his demonic opponent, one that could severely hinder him. Releasing his blade, Nez'gah allowed the weapon to take care of the light bolt, deflecting it towards the earth with a surge of dark energy whilst the demon focused upon the major threat, Liam's spell.

Muttering in a language only known by specific demonic broods, Nez'gah summoned the power necessary to cast the spell. Instantly the air around the spell and Liam began to shimmer with an unseen power.

Finally the spell was completed and Liam's attack disappeared, the spell structure completely ripped apart as Nez'gah's more complex spell dominated Liam's. Unfortunately for Liam, that was merely a side effect of Nez'gah's spell, the real purpose was to assault Liam in a manner he had probably not experience before.

Liam's view immediately shifted to that of a place completely dark, penetrated by no light whatsoever. Before Liam could interpret what had just happened, a chorus of screams so intense emerged from the abyss that the angel was forced to drop to his knees, even his immortal ears feeling extreme pain at the high pitched wail of so many tortured souls.

Whilst the angel was distracted with the predicament inside his head, Nez'gah took the oppurtunity to grab his own sword and charge the angel, aiming to run him straight through the gut.
____________________

The first Tarlachinas to meet the demon hordes with any scrap of defensive ability were the dragons. Any humans caught in the path of the rampaging demons were easily torn to pieces and consumed, barely slowing the march of Arithon's army as it poured into Tarlachia, destroying anything in it's path.

Unfortunately for the many fire breathing dragons, many of the demonic creatures before them were seasoned residents of a world based almost completed on ash, solid earth, lava and fire. Heat was no stranger to them and only the weaker breeds suffered death and extreme injury. Of course there was a large quantity of these breeds, yet their losses was no major concern to Arithon.

The demons that could fly immediately took to the air in order to engage the dragons, many of them possessing tough hides similar to dragon scales, making it all the more difficult for the native Tarlachia beasts to destroy the demonic creatures.

As ice and firce rained down upon the demon army, the many spell casters within the horde began unleashing projectile attacks of their own, unleashing energy and charms that would either rip into a dragon's body or distort their perceptions to the point of possibly attacking a friend.

Shadow Dancer detected the impotent spear of strange energies that Arithon had unleashed in her direction and moved furter aside from it.

"ShaDo we are simply going to have to make a full study of those energies. It has always bothered me that we can register them but not manipulate therm." The ship stated angrily.

"Agreed sisterself, but later. This is shaping up into a nasty little invasion. The...dragons, I thikn they are called and the demons" ShaDo's voice was dubious as she put names to the combatans alon the north eastern border. ".I though they were old christian mythology, but the term seems to fit."

"We've got another much smaller confrontation nearly over the capitol as well" ShadowDancer put the combat between Aeris, Abaddon, Laim and Nez'gah.

ShaDo turned her attention to the Tarlachian capital, having her sister seld scan the area thoroughly, as she kept her attention on the combat. Moments later ShadowDancer sent her new information, and ShaDo called out to Perigrine, who was in communication with the five oh first.

"Peri, we have some of those strange 'gate type' energies building, but they are weak and erratic...and it looks like the angels are about to lose to the demon and the one with black wings."

"Take us down and lets investigate the energies, but keep an eye on that combat. " The Nietzschean ordered.

In less than a minute the starcraft wsa hovering over the ruins of the Palace, most specifically over where what remained of the war room. Perigrin, assissted by ShaDo pulled one survivor out of the wreckage, then the starcraft soared heaven wards again.

**************

The after shocks did more damage to Shalamar's ranch, her home collapsing completely, and leaving her with a broken wrist. She cursed Abaddon visciously for his folly.

*********************

Those quake survivors in encampments nearest the combat of the Dragons and Demons found themselves protect by force fields of pure energy, courtesy of the Way Farer and other UU ships. Once the Tarlachian rescue ships had taken off all that they could, the UU ships came in and took off even more.

* ISS Dragonfire, this is WayFarer, of the Tanaran Empire. If you will direct your ships to these coordinates* The sensors of the Tarlachian ships suddenly dispayed coordinates out past the dark side of the moon.

Five massive habitats, each capable of housing a quarter of a billion people dropped their cloaking

As the demon army of Arithon started swarming into Tarlachia, what was left of the ravaged nation's survivors began to beat a hasty retreat, crying out in pain and despair as the dragons, the first wave of what was left of Tarlachia's defenses began to engage the overwhelming numbers of the demonic invaders. With the erstwhile proud infrastructure of Tarlachia reduced to so much rubble by the devastating earthquake that had rocked the very foundations of the earth, there was little left of what could be considered modern civilization. And all of the survivors who were close enough to catch even a glimpse of the battle fled in terror, leaving the field of battle to the Dragons and the vastly overwhelming power of Arithon's army. All fled, away from the scene of battle.

All but one. In the distance, the caped figure watched the battle from a distance, his cape pulled over his head, hiding his features from any who would have been there to see, not that there were any. Yet, through the cape, one could catch a glimpse of snow white hair floating in the wind, covering the mysterious figure's face such that only the jawline was visible. And that jawline was formed upwards in a cynical smirk, seemingly unconcerned about the sheer horror of what was happening in the vicinity. An invasion of evil miles in front of him, sheer destruction hundred of miles behind, the signs of ravage all around him, and all he did was to light a fag, as he continued to watch the raging battle of epic porportions unfolding like a theatre before him.

"My, my, what a mess we have here......"

Smoke trailed from his lips as he exhaled, the cigarette burning in his hands. A breeze blew by, and the smoke trail blew in a thin wisp far from him. The breeze blew off the head covering of the cape too; a full head of long, snowy hair was revealed, flying in the wind. Yet, as if commanded by the will of the figure himself, his snowy hair still refused to part from his face, still hiding his features. Behind him, a large motorcycle lays parked, seeming for all the world to consist entirely of two large wheels and shiny black armor plating. The mysterious rider raised his head to the sky, taking in the aerial duel between the angels and demons with scarcely a reaction from him. Again he inhaled from his fag, as he whispered to himself:

"Well. What a time to take an eternal vacation into Neverland, Sigrun Greenwood....."

The fag fell to the ground, promptly being crushed with a big black boot. With a sudden heave, the cape was torn apart, and floated away in the wind; the figure it revealed wore a leather jacket and leather pants, crisscrossed with many leather belts, with a long, shiny trenchcoat over the entire ensemble. Yet, it was the four black wings, stretching four feet on either side of him, that was clearly the most prominent part of the mysterious rider. However, instead of taking flight, the wings of the mysterious rider disintegrated instead, becoming a black mist that flowed into the armored bike parked beside the red-coated rider. It seemed as if nothing had happened, but the rider nevertheless hopped onto it, gunning its massive engine. And as the sweet sound of hundreds of horsepower resonated through the air, a cynical smirk could be seen on the rider's face.

"Once again..........upon the fray!!!"

And the bike leapt forwards, rushing headlong into a suicidal confrontation with the Arithon army.......

Her mouth opened as she felt the blade enter her flesh, yet no sound came out. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as she slowly began to see the edges of her vision becoming dark, the clarity of the world around her losing focus.

A eye-blinding lance of pure photonic energy seared past Abaddon, as he held Aeris's limp body and a cold voice magnified by technology to be the crack of thunder but still clear as a crystal bell sounded.

"If you don't want the next laser pulse to go straight through your body you will let her go....Oh,and we have something that more that you might want."

The starcraft hovered less than a hundred feet away on silwnt antigravs, and visable no tht it had dropped it's cloaking shields. Perigrine Omega stood on the bow, having exited through a docking hatch. The cold winds of the high altitude mattered not to her, for she was a Neitzschean bred to overcome what ever nature could throw at her. Firmly she held a mostly unconscious and near fatally injured Lillit before her, useing her as a shield against distance weapons and attacks.

"It's a light speed weapon, and the trigger is keyed to a mind that lives at lightspeed as well, so don't get any ideas." ShaDo added. SHe had her tractors ready to activate and catch the angle when Abaddon dropped her. If he tried any treacher the ships powerful weapons, designed to destroy other ships of war would reduce him to component atoms. It was one of the days where she really could make her day...

Space, en route to the dark side of the moon

The onyx ocean of eternity spread out in every direction, bringing many Tarlachians to awe at the vast expanses of space. From outside the Tarlachian space-faring ships, the countless faces lining the large bay windows could be seen. They saw the earth shrinking considerably in size, and the moon reciprocably increasing in size.

In the command ward of the ISS Dragonfire, Admiral Raost was busy ensuring that every fleetship was moving as designated and without delay. Looking over to his communications officer, he called out sharply, "Patch me through to the Wayfarer."

"Yes sir." came the reply, simultaneously with a screen opening up in front of the admiral. "Wayfarer, Dragonfire here. Admiral Raost speaking." He gave a few seconds to allow this to transmit, then continued, "First off, I'd like to extend my personal gratitude for your assistance in this...event. Secondly, I'm sure you're aware of what's going on earthside, so I need to ask you a favor. Since we are at full capacity due to the evacuations, it's going to take a little time before our ships are heading back for more. You saw the battle taking place, and the invading forces. I need-no, we need your help in doing something to stem those forces. Perhaps a diverting wall to redirect the demons back to where they belong, or perhaps a containment of sorts?"

____________________________________________

Tarlachia

Whilst a vast majority of Tarlachians ran for their lives in the opposite direction of the oncoming hordes of demons, there were still quite a few who remained behind, quickly arming themselves for the rapidly approaching conflict. Raxhun, humans, and elves gathered together in random locations as they attempted to organize and immediately launch their counter-attacks. For many, they had nothing to lose except their honor, and for others whom were luckier, they still had family to defend.

Nevertheless, as they ran to meet the oncoming demons or formed defensive lines that stretched for miles around the city of Turath. It was understood that the demons would remain grouped, so that overwhelming potential was easily obtained. Therefore, as they pillaged and burned the homes of Tarlachia, the defensive Tarlachians moved to surround the demons whom had now begun to break into smaller segments, yet still numbering countless warriors.

"Divide and conquer!" came the cries from the ranks time and again. Scattered cheers could be heard as a few resistance forces managed to stem the tide, assisted by the dragons overhead. Amongst the brave few whom remained to defend to the last, were notable combatants, such as Rikan Tansho, and her fellow mercenaries. Deftly she moved through the demons that came close, her bladed gauntlets skewering or chopping apart her victims.

____________________________

Aerial combat above Turath

Abaddon's face grew darker, if at all possible, and gripped Aeris' throat with a powerful hand, holding the limp girl in front of him. He watched as the Neitzschean revealed a mostly unconscious form in her arms. His eyes followed the limp form's features, widening slightly as recognition hit him like a tidal wave. Lillit!

There was no response, although Lillit did stir slightly in Peregrine's arms.

A sound of metal striking a staff nearby caused Abaddon to turn and watch as Liam deftly deflected Nez'Gah's incoming attack. He watched as Liam allowed Nez'Gah's fast motions pull him past the angel, exposing his backside. Without wasting time, Liam unleashed another spell of disarment.

Abaddon looked back at Peregrine and growled at her. A few seconds later, he resigned to what he knew whas inevitable. He called out to Peregrine, "Release her safely first, and then we''ll talk."

He raised a hand to NezGah and Liam, the latter whom panted somewhat heavily. Liam watched the exchange negotiations and was pleased to hear and see reinforcements arrive, favoring them in particular.

Nez'gah knew his mistake almost instantly after it was too late. His back was now exposed to Liam and obviously the angel would take full advantage of such. As expected, the demon was struck by a disarming spell, causing him to grunt in shock and pain as he dropped his blade and concentrated on fighting off the effects of the spell.

Turning around to face Liam once agian, Nez'gah cursed in demonic tongues as his gaze fell upon the starship before him, weapons trained on Abaddon and the girl within his grasp. If anything could stand up to the might of demons such as himself it was highly advanced technology.

Ready to attack Liam once again, Nez'gah stopped himself at Abaddon's request, despite his strong desire to rip out the angel's heart and feast upon it. Calming himself slightly, Nez'gah took the moment of peace to observe the nearby battle of Arithon's army against the remaining Tarlachian defenders.
________________

There was no denying the overwhelming force of Arithon's demon horde. The army sported a range of demons from massive creatures that appeared more at home with the dinosaurs to little beasts that moved so fast it was near impossible to follow them with one's eyes.

Most of those composing the demonic force were not intelligent creatures, their sole reason for existence was to kill and they did it with frightening efficiency. They took no notice as the Tarlachian's began to surround them and simply continued the slaughter, destroying anything that wasn't demonic.

It was the spell casters that noted the Tarlachian strategy. Several key demons gifted with higher thought processes and abilities linked with the arcane. Communicating through telepathic means, the spell casters present within the horde began organising their own strategies, using the large demons to bash through Tarlachian lines and circle back behind them, effectively sandwhiching the enemy forces.

Whilst that was underway, a lone spell caster noted a single figure charging towards the army upon a motorbike. Thinking little of it, he ordered a dozen warrior breed demons towards the mystery attacker.

"Release her safely first, and then we''ll talk."

Perigrine gave a sardonic chuff, letting her bone spurs flex out visably. "No Meaningfull talk occurs when one has a position of strength, and I really don't intend to give you anything resembling the upper hand." Her gaze was completely emotionless, level and unyielding. "Now the one you have means less than nothing to me, but I have been advised that she does have worth to others. And those others have just enough meaning to me that I'll offer a trade."

She wouldn';t be distracted by Abaddon just letting the unconscious opne fall, or him throwing her at the starcraft, or commecing any sort of attack. Sha'Do and ShadowDancer were there to handle details such as that. Though the fact that another demon fought close by was never out of her consciousness.

"Trade? And you can even remember me for later targetting if that is part of what makes you tick." She figured that would go fifty fifty. Some people didn't understand the meaning of the term 'just business'.

**********************

The demonic hordes woud never get in to the southern section of the crescent shaped country. The Five oh First held it- and their war machines, mecha psibonded with highly skilled pilots, would stop any attempts at incursions past the interdiction line they'd placed. Behind those lines the citizens of Tarlachia were safe.

The terrible earthquake destroyed thousands of buildings across the Djeri Empire and damaged countless more; millions of citizens were injured in the destruction. The cities of Sirnod and Trengol, in the north and west of the Empire, suffered the worst damage, but even Southeastern Kurmag did not escape the disaster unscathed. The devestation would have been even worse, however, without the building codes enforced throughout the country, and the quake-wards that protected many buildings.

In Dal-Gorath, Kazar-Tiyon stormed about his mighty citadel, fuming. Both his own magic and the great structure's sturdy construction had proctected the fortress from damage, but the wasted lives and money in his empire were infuriating. To make matters worse, the complex magical instruments within the citadel had gathered data suggesting that this earthquake might have had unnatural origens. There had been some very strange readings picked up from Tarlachia just before the wave of destruction arrived. ((I figure something that can trigger an earthquake that strong is bound to have a few side effects. If there's nothing that could be detected, I'll delete that part.))

"This needs investigation!" Kazar snarled. "I've been keeping out of the political situation to the north, but if someone's got a weapon that can cause or enhance an earthquake, I want to make sure that they do not use it again. Fetch me four of your Claws. It may be wise to bring some assistance, and I do not wish to bring an army into Tarlachia unless we clearly stand to gain from it. You can begin organizing the recovery as soon as they are sent to me."

"As you say, your lordship."
Djer'kaal, the semi-living sorceror who served as Kazar's assistant and administrator, had the unenviable task of keeping up with his angry master while at the same time trying to get some actual work done.
"My little toys shall arrive within moments, and I shall get to work at once."


The grim tower at Taman Grell, an the Southwestern corner of the coastline, had been the site of powrfull magic long before Kazar-Tiyon came to the land that would become the Djeri Empire under his rule. The work Kazar had done there increased this dark power considerably, and it was now easy for him to open a portal between the depths of his citadel and this important outpost. He did this now, and strode through the shadowed hole in distance with four gleaming steel Claws of Djer'kaal marching behind him. Climbing to the top of the tower, Kazar wove magic and darkness into a great black disc - his favored means of transportation. As soon as the Claws had joined him on this hovering construct, he glided out to sea and soared swifttly north, toward the narrow waterway that would bring him to the sea next to Tarlachia.

It was at this time that he felt the sudden upsurge in demonic power coming from the wasteland east of Tarlachia. Beneath the impenetrable shadows of his hood, Kazar smiled.

"So," a deep, yet soothing voice spoke, looking at the letter, "what can you tell me?"

"Well," this time a female, "it's very, how would you military boys put this, fucked up."

"Fubar'd, Elaine. Fubar'd."

"Yes, Mr. Bruce. Fubar'd" Elaine Jacobson tried to hide her discontempt. She had no qualms working for former military men, but the language often exceeded that of appropriate. And to top that off, it was rubbing off on her. She mentally scolded herself for the curse, and then went back to the discusion at hand. "I belived that the situation would call for numerous operatives, possible more than we could spare, considerng the outcome of our Colombian interdiction."

"Elaine," replied David Bruce, Operations Director of Security International, and former US Army Major, "what have I told you about operational affairs?"

"That you handle the logistics and support, and I work out how much we charge?"

"Exactly. Now, how much do we charge?"

"My suggestion, sir?"

"No, your daughter's suggestion. Yes, yours."

"Wait until post operation, lets see exactly how much we spend, then we can work out a negotiable price. It will allow us to set a standard, seeing as we have never operated on this large a scale before."

"Excellent choice, Miss Jacobson. Excellent choice." His tone wasn't exactly condiscending, but not very sincere, either. It was that military response that said 'not what I would do, but I guess it works for now.' "I need you to prepare a comunique."

"Yes sir, right away."
+++++++
To:Lady Khadri Van Maartin
From:Maj. David H. Bruce
Re:Camp Security

My dear Lady Van Maartin,

I recently recieved your request of contract regarding the security and set up of a number of refugee style camps of displaced citizens. First, I would like to thank you for choosing Security International. I hope that we can fufill all your needs and exceed any expected level of performance.

First, I would like to make it known, as I feel it only fair to you, the contracter, and those that will be emplaced in the camps, that we have never taken on an operation of such scale. Most of our operations never expand beyond the company level, and that itself is a rare occurance. Therefore, we are even more excited to take on this contract, as it will not only serve its purpose of protecting those displaced citizens, but also testing our ability to respond to any crisis of such scale.

At the advice of our finacial department, we will be holding out on pricing at this stage. We feel that, in the best interests of the displaced citizens, it would be better to skip the sometimes long stage of negotians over price, and get straight to work.

If possible, I have selected a number of company representatives that would like to meet with yourself or a choosen representative in the area, tour one, if not more, of the camps as they stand, and get a feel for the situation. They would then report back to me, with operational goals and a good estimate on the numbers required to carry out the mission.

Again, I would like to thank you for choosing Security International, Inc. With the upmost regards,

Maj. David H. Bruce
US Army, RET.
Head of Operations, VP of Security International, Inc.

Darius tumbled from the sky, his claws buried in a flying demon. Both creatures snarled and bit at each other, their claws ripping away. Sadly for the demon, Darius’s thick and sleek scales made it hard to get a firm grasp on the beast. The demon’s jaw, lined with crooked, broken, and horribly decayed yet none the less lethal teeth snapped again and again as it tried to get around the dragon’s neck. The dragon finally broke free and kicked his opponent away, sending the demon tumbling down a few more meters before its wings caught air and the thing came back towards Darius.

The dragon roared and fired a long ice spear at the demon, the creature didn’t dodge it, its body lurched backwards as Darius stared at it, wondering if its spear had skewered its intended victim. The dragon watched as the spear melted in the demon’s hands and its sick yellow eyes glared up at him. The demon rocked forward and slammed it shoulder into Darius’s chest and the pair went hurtling into the clouds.

Darius roared as the demon pounded at his hid and ripped at his wings. The dragon twisted and turned, trying to throw the beast from him. The demon slipped, it was all that Darius needed. The beast’s head snapped around and grabbed the demon’s flailing arm and with a bit and twist, the limb was ripped from the socket. The black demon blood began to rain down below as the creature cried out in pain and pulled back from Darius.

The dragon spat out the limb and was instantly upon the demon, his teeth buried in the monster’s head. The pair began to tumble as Darius bit harder and deeper, blood began to flow as the demon howled and tried to pull the jaws from its head. The demon suddenly ceased its resistance as Darius bit once, his teeth tearing through the skull and into the brain. The dragon released the corpse, sending the bleeding hunk of flesh down to the battlefield below where it crushed several smaller man sized monsters.

Darius roared in triumph and began the deadly dance of death with another demon who arrived too late to save its kin.

If possible, I have selected a number of company representatives that would like to meet with yourself or a choosen representative in the area, tour one, if not more, of the camps as they stand, and get a feel for the situation. They would then report back to me, with operational goals and a good estimate on the numbers required to carry out the mission.

Again, I would like to thank you for choosing Security International, Inc. With the upmost regards,

Maj. David H. Bruce
US Army, RET.
Head of Operations, VP of Security International, Inc.

"Get back with him right away, set up a face to face meeting . If they can have people ready for a junket in twenty-four hours make it happen. Those cities are going up with confused, despariing people rushing to fill them, and the last thing I want is for them to explode in our faces." Mercy handed the paper back to Khadri, and turned to other of the myriad problems facing her nation currently.

Khadri nodded and headed to her office which was adjacent to the one the Queen occupied. Her intellegence had gotten her the name of Major Bruce's partner, one Ms. Elaine Jacobson and now she had Montguard Palace's operator get the desired lady on the line. "Ring thru to me when she is on the line please." Khadri requested and turned to her over flowing in basket. Every waking moment was busy in the current crisis, and too precious to be wasted.

The roar of Cerberus's engine resounded in the mystery rider's ears, as he continued his relentless, suicidal charge towards the demons of Arithon's army. It seemed that those creatures, whatever they were, didn't seem to think much of him, as only a dozen or so of them were diverted his way. What a pity, thought the rider with a cynical grin. Well, nothing to it but to see what these guys were made of.

He was rapidly approaching the point of battle now; the closest ones roared at him, and began to commence their attack. Three of them, coming in at him from left, right, and center; he grinned. Now they were almost near striking distance, and he could practically smell the hell-stink from the mouths of those that were almost within reach to gore him. Of course, he wasn't going to be the one about to get gored. Not if he had anything to say about it.

"Alright, let's get this shit on!!!"

The armor plating of Cerberus suddenly shifted; before they knew it, two of the demons had been haplessly sliced Julienne-style by two long, slim blades that extended five feet on each side of the armored bike; definitely, the bike was not what it seemed. The one demon to escape the bike's blades was not spared either, for it was soon impaled on a ridiculously huge blade, except that this time, the rider himself was wielding the blade instead of the bike. It was huge, easily the size of a zanbatō, yet he was easily wielding it with only one hand. Clearly, just like the bike he was riding, the mysterious rider himself was not what he seemed. And definitely not to be underestimated.

With a great heave, the rider swung the great blade to the side, disposing of the impaled carcass by tossing it to the side. However, he had not much time to catch his breath, before the next wave was upon him; seeing the fates of their rasher fellows, the demons leapt as one in the air, avoiding the long blades of Cerberus, each one attempting to take the rider off the armored bike.

"Heh. Amateurs."

What the demons did not expect though, was that the bike itself could jump as well. And jump it did, the rider pulling back on its handles, using the bulk of the machine to act as a barrier towards the incoming demons. Two of them were struck by Cerberus's freespinning wheels, knocked back down......and as the bike continued on its backflip, the rider was facing the rest of the airborne demons again.

This time though, he had twin auto-shotguns in his hands.

BLAMF
BLAMF
BLAMF

Those demons that had jumped up into the air after the rider ate loads of buckshot; several more died instantly for being too close to the shotguns' blast radius, while the rest, although merely injured, fell back to the ground from the force of the blasts.

Still in the air, standing on the seat of the airborne Cerberus, the rider smirked. In his hands, the shotguns began to shift in shape; in a matter of moments, they had become a willow-leaf saber, and a Chinese longsword respectively. Now the battle was fully under way.

"C'mon, you ugly mugs!!! These all you got?"

"Listen, Micheal, its not like I'm asking you for a gunship or a fighter jet. I can take whatever you give me, I just need two Apaches."

"Christ Elaine, do you know what your asking for? The Army lives and dies by these birds, I can't just loan you two attack aircraft for a test operation. These are the best that money can put out there, I can't just loan you two Longbows and be done with it."

Elaine sighed. She had always thought having a brother in the military would open things up for her. Get her special connections, a hook up so to speak. She had even listed it on her resumé for Security International. And now, that connection was severed. "Please, Mike, I'm begging you. I know you can pull some strings. We have our own pilots, our own test ground, we just need two of the birds. Listen, I have another call on the line. I'll get back to ya, ok?"

"Elaine, I can't just give you two of the most advanced combat helicopters in the world and right it off as a loan. These aren't cars, and we aren't Enterprise. We are the United States Army, and these AH-64Ds are our main event."

"Mike, I know. But I also know everything has a price, so you go find me a dollar sign, and I'll get back to ya. Bye."

She clicked the blinking 'line 2' button, heard a click, and answerd. "Elaine," she said, terse from her previous convorsation.

"Miss Jacobson, there is a call comming in from Tanara. Sounds official."

"Alright, patch them through."

"Yes ma'am." There was a soft click, and then dead silence. Two seconds later, a beep, and then another soft tone. "This is Elaine Jacobson, how can I help you?"

"This is Elaine Jacobson, how can I help you?"

"Ms Jacobson would you please hold a moment while Lady van Maartin picks up the line?" The pleasent professional voiced operator inquired. The wait time wasn't even five seconds.

"Miss Jacobson, this is Khadri van Maartin, and I am thankful that Security International responded so prompty. It has been requested, by her Majesty, that I inquire if your company could have your representatives available within twentyfour hours? We can have one of our liveried aircraft at any airport you request within that time. They would first be transported to our national capitol, Montguard, for an initial briefing, then on to any of the camps they so chose."

Elaine looked at the phone cross eyed for a moment, and then shook her head. "I'm sorry ma'am, I just run the finacial asspect. Can you hold on for just a second?"

There was a click, and Elaine dug through a stack of files, finding Operation Provide Care. It was a simple name that a computer had picked out for the specific operation regarding refugee camps. She scanned down the page, found the main contact number, and managed to, for the first time, successfully complete an inbulding transfer.

Landon Webber had spend ten years with the United States Navy SEALs before comming to work Secuirty International, where he served as a field operative for one of the eight special mission teams, before getting transfered to his own desk in the company. It wasn't as exciting, acting as an operational manager, but the pay was better, a nice sum just shy of seventy five thousand a year. For a single male with no children and prefered to live a quiet, small life, it was more than a fortune. And the bennifits weren't bad either.

As a field operations coordinator, he had completed two operations to this point, both simple site security ones, one an oil field in Iraq, the other an office space in Germany. This was his third, and he planned on keeping up the record of success. His phone chirped, and he picked it up.

"Webber."

"Landon, right? This is Elaine, over in Finance. I have a call regarding your new op. Want me to patch her through?"

"Sure, go for it."

"Alright, hold on a sec, ok, here's Miss van Maartin." There was another click, a beep, and the same soft tone, and then the line came to life.

"Miss van Maartin, Landon Webber. I've been assigned to handle your case, a refugee camp security contract. What can I do for you?"

I'm sorry ma'am, I just run the finacial asspect. Can you hold on for just a second?"

"My aoplogies Ms. Jacobson. Certainly, I'll hold." Khadri made a mental note to ammend the intel on Security International, to indicate that Elaine Jacobson was purely Financial, not Operational. The wait time was short and a deep male voice came on the line...

"Miss van Maartin, Landon Webber. I've been assigned to handle your case, a refugee camp security contract. What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Webber, first off let me thank you, speaking as a represenative of Tanaara to your company, for handling our request so promptly. In our communications with Security International, Major Bruce indicated a desire to have a team head in-country to get an initial overview of the camps. Her Majesty, Queen Mercedez, has requested that your representatives are given every courtesy and priority status. I can have a liveried airplane at any airport you designate within twenty four hours. Can your representatives be heady within that time frame? We'd like to bring them to Montguard for an initial briefing and then on to any, or all, of the camps for on-site inspection."

Webber nodded at the phone, aware that the woman on the other couldn't see. It was impressive to him, at least, to have a client know what the hell was going on. His past two operations involved phone calls that consisted of "we are in a world of hurt, "we can't handle this situation," and "was it really nessacery to kill those people?"

He glanced down quickly at his watch. With rush hour traffic, it would take a good three hours to get to the airport, and that was if they were lucky. However, they did have a rented hanger at the private aviation sector, plus their own helicopter that they used to get around in when needed. It was at the hanger, but with the team hired to operate the bird, it would take maybe an hour and a half at most to gather the team heads he would want to bring, get the bird to the office, and then get it back to the airport. That would be the best option, depending on when the Tanarans could get a flight in.

"Well, ma'am, I can have all the representatives I need together and at D/FW in about two hours, max. We have a hanger rented out in the private aviation sector, so you just give me a time in the next twenty four, and we'll be there ready to go."

"Well, ma'am, I can have all the representatives I need together and at D/FW in about two hours, max. We have a hanger rented out in the private aviation sector, so you just give me a time in the next twenty four, and we'll be there ready to go."

Khadri smiled, and while the good Mr. Webber couldn't see it, it did come across in her voice. "Oh Mr. Webber, that shows a splended level of readiness, but I don't think it needs to be quite so "drop every thing". Would eight hours be enough time for your selected representative to arrive at DFW without yanking them from sleep and such? And that would be the..."

Her fingers danced lightly over the keyboard laying before her terminal "Addison section of DFW, correct? I can have a executive seven sixty seven there for you in...seven hours. It will need to refuel and take on a fresh load of meals, so in eight hours they would be ready for you to board. And is there any particular inflight movie you all would like?"

The Tanaaran's did their intellegence homewwork, it ws what made them so formidible. They knew everything, or could find it out quickly. Their current monarch had 'grown up' as the first an analyst, then active intellingence for a time, then moving up to become the director of the entire Tanaaran intelligence gathering operation.

Negotiations in the skies

"Trade? And you can even remember me for later targetting if that is part of what makes you tick."

Abaddon glanced down at the girl in his hands. She was young, yet strong in her magical skills. He wasn't sure of her approximate age, but one thing was clear: she was far younger than he. Much too young for his tastes. No, he preferred the experience of the darkness that Lillit had. After a moment, his cold, onyx eyes locked with the woman's. A scan of her mental waves happened in a half-second.

"Very well then, Peregrine Omega; a trade it is." he spoke aloud, "As for your life, I shall take it in due time."

He tossed Aeris into the sky, a single hand directing the dark energies to carry the unconscious girl and settle her none-too-gently onto the bow of the starship, next to Peregrine.

He locked eyes with the woman again, "I'll take her now."

As the trade was being completed, Liam's attention was drawn to a dark speck in the far distance, far beyond even most immortal eyes to see. From over the sea it flew toward them, dark energies propelling it forward. Great...more of 'em... he thought, wondering who'd get the unlucky attention of that dark character.
__________________________________________

The bloody battle below, not too far away

Cries of desperation were soon following the triumphant cries of the ragged Tarlachian combatants. The demons were overwhelming them, and little could be done as they watched the demons surge about them like an angry sea.

"Hold together!" Rikan's voice cried out as she deftly beheaded two demons nearby in a single stroke of vicious attack. A plunge backward and a third demon was disemboweled. She looked skyward as she heard a caucophany of roars coming from above. She smiled a gritty smile as dragons came down like a single wave, their bodies smashing through the demonic forces that had been counterattacking. Through the midsts of screeching demons and Tarlachians' roaring in return, Rikan saw the small route being opened up behind them. And at the edge of that route, only a few hundred yards away, were large behemoths of mechanized forces. She saw that their highly developed weapons were devastating any nearby demons with frightening efficiency.

"Retreat!" she cried, "Retreat behind the line!" She remained where she was as her fellow Tarlachians obeyed the resounding cry that echoed barely above the din of war. She remained still, even as she became secluded, cut off from her own retreat. Like a relentless fox cornered, she struck and killed the demons that came near, their forces encircling around her thickly as the last of the Tarlachians ran for safety behind the mech-held line of defense being upheld by the 501st.

Strange as it was, she remained on her feet, her endurance running high as she kept up the defensive strikes, never allowing herself to accept defeat. Alas, she was only Raxhun, human in the simplest terms. It was only a matter of time before she fell.

At first, the sound was barely heard over the roars of demons nearby, but it grew stronger, and with it came the agonized screechings of demons being slain. Turning for the briefest moment of moments, Rikan's eyes caught sight of a mechanical motorcycle flying through the air, coming right for her. However it's rider seemed to be unaware of it's trajectory.

Growling, Rikan doubled her efforts and killed more demons nearby as she prepared herself to combat this new intruder. He'd die just like any of the others that had fallen already. A casualty number that already ran well into the hundreds...

The 501st had advanced further incountry that had been planned, but they had an freedom of autonomy that few other units had. And they could not ignore the battle. The psibonded mechs spat the azure lightning of PPC's, launched misiles,shredded demons with rail gun fire all with the precission that told of much practise, of much combat. Some stayed on the ground, useing their shields to provide protection for the fleeing Tarlachians; others took the LAM's airborn darting with lethal agility among the flying demons.

*********************************

I'll take her now."

Perigrine nodded slowly, somehow knowing that for this small span of time he'd keep his word. "Come take her. She's injured and it was worse than it is now. Our medicine had a hard time figuring her out at first."

She held her ground as Abaddon drew close to take Lillit. "By the way. We did a bit of research on you. And I'll say just this - if you destroy everything then you destroy yourself, her and your child to be as well. Might be better to rethink the whole notion and find something better to do. And besides if the original information is correct, though the translations do vary a bit - aren't you supposed to be destroying the Angelic Hordes rather than one small planet?"

She set the unconscious figure in his arms. "Though I will admit you aren't doing half bad for a non Nietzschean."

Unsee to the mystery motorcycle rider, one of the many spellcaster commanders had noticed his presence and the way he handled the dozen attacking demons. Obviously he was not some mere human to be dealt with by a bunch of low level warriors.

Employing his mental uplink with demons under his specific command, the spellcaster ordered what humans might call 'Tank Class' demons towards the stranger. These creatures stood over ten feet in height and easily weighed over a ton in pure muscle and bone. Their hide was thick enough to equal that of any dragon scales.

Six of these beasts moved towards the lone biker as he finished off the remaining minor demons with his blades. As if they weren't enough, the spellcaster enacted several runes he'd cast into those demons, protecting them from energy based attacks by reflecting it upon the enemy.
______________

Still floating around in the air with Liam nearby, Nez'gah sent his own thoughts to Abaddon.

"Something needs to be done about this foreign resistance to the army..."
___________________

Despite the addition of the mechanical opponents, the demons pressed on, many of the larger breeds battering through the human resistance to attack their steel enemies.

Several of the spellcasters remained back to imbue their warriors with necessary abilities to take down their enemies, such as a resistance to energy weapons or the strength to tear through metal. Morale wasn't an issue with these creatures and they would not be scared off by new enemies. Numbers and strength were their distinct advantage and they intended to use it.

On top of this, the spellcasters launched their own assaults, unleashing surges of demonic energy that would rip through a human with ease and certainly do damage to electrical equipment.
___________________________

Another winged demon had noted the success Darius was having against his comrades and felt the need to put a stop to it. This demon was part of a mixed breed, created to combine effective components of combat strength and magical ability.

Soaring through the sky, evading other demons and dragons, the winged spell-warrior rammed into Darius from below, attempting to dig it's energy charged claws into any region of the dragon's underbelly that would be soft enough to allow penetration.

The 501st didn't bother to stand their ground, they advanced, knowing that high above, beyond the veil of atmosphere, allies waited for the proper moment to strike.

The minute that sensors showed that a majority of the Tarlachians had made it safe behind the psimechs, Operation Firestorm launched.

Though ShadowDancer was seferal thousand miles away from the start of the energy wave barrage ShaDo yelped and threw up sheilds.

Perigrine grabbed Abaddon and held him with surprizing strength "Move away from shields now and you'll die!"

She grabbed Aeris's unconscious body in her free hand then turned and watched the wavefront, like a curtain of madly writhing all consumeing fire, sweep towards them - destroying what ever it touched - anything unshielded and air born.

"The missile baarrage to destroy your ground forces will follow in a moment." She commented. "I can't duplicate much less control the energies you call majic, but tech matches them. And we have more tech than you have majic." She commented calmly as she braced for the buffeting that would happen despite the shields. Her voice was calm and conversational. "Just remember Abadon, we can destroy this planet with the push of a button. Right this instant. Can you?"

She knew she'd probably not be able to beat him in a hand to hand contest, and she had the strongest suspision that his magic might be sneakier than her tech. However Perigrine Omega would be damned before she'd give any hint of unease before a male.

His breath washed over the demons surrounding the human woman and had an almost liquid nitrogen effect. Whole demons were frozen or just a limb would and break off when it was moved, the more heavily armored ones had their armor turn to glass and were shattered as Darius zoomed down and with his claws bared, tore away at the frozen creatures.

The dragon had taken a temporary break from battling the sky demons in favor of trying to give the human woman some relief, though she was obviously a great warrior, probably Raxhun, even she could use a break. Darius pulled up and rocketed several hundred feet into the air after his last pass to overview his work and continue his hunt for airborne foes.

It was then the dragon roared as it felt something slam underneath him, propelling him and his assailant higher and higher. Darius felt the claws of the beast trying to find a weakness in his armor. The dragon’s head moved downward as he snapped at the demon beneath him and his legs kicked, trying to break it off of him.

The dragon felt the claws of the creature beginning to find dents from pervious engagements in the day and there it began to squeeze, trying to break though his tough hide and then to his flesh underneath.

Darius roared and staring straight at the demon, unleashed a gust of his freezing breath that had worked so well against the demon's land based bretheren.

As he was about to fall with his bike right back into the midst of the snarling demons, a dragon passed him by. In a flash, these same demons turned to ice statues in the blink of an eye; definitely it had something to do with that particular dragon that flew overhead just now.

"Pheeeeew! Talk about bad breath!", the bike rider joked to no one in particular, now that his immediate targets were all iced over. With a whump, Cerberus landed heavily on the ground, its wheels spinning and squealing in protest as it struggled to gain purchase on the blood-slicked battleground. As it slipped and slid sideways, the bike and its rider smashed many of the frozen into bloody smithereens, before coming to a stop in the midst of a forest of the frozen gargoyles. Right in front of a most incongruous sight; a woman in their midst, apparently un-frozen and quite well, if a little battered and bruised from what must have been a mighty battle she had taken part in.

"Well, what do we have here?", the silver-haired biker quipped, instantly going into 'flirt' mode. "What's a babe like you doing in this mess, eh?"

It was just then, that a humongous series of roars rang out, distracting the silver-haired biker from his non sequitur flirtation......only to see six huge demons coming his way. And by huge; they were enormous; they easily stood 10 feet each, dwarfing him easily. However, they were still a distance away from the rider of Cerberus, and the woman he had just happened to come across.

And the fact that these demons looked like they could crush the nameless rider with a foot didn't seem to faze the said rider. At all.

"Wooooo hooooo! I'll like to know what their mother feeds these guys......"

As he continued talking trash unconcernedly, the biker clashed his two swords together; it became one mess of writhing, squirming dark matter, a shadow mist protruding from his hands. At the same time, more of the dark mist flowed out of Cerberus; the bike didn't seem to change in and of itself, but it gave up so much mist that for a moment, the rider seemed obscured in it.

Then, the mist consolidated into one point, forming the shape of what appeared to be a really large gun. In no time at all, the rider was visible again; and in his hand this time was.......a full-scale, no-shit anti-tank rifle. And what was even more unbelievable, was that the nameless biker appeared to have no problems holding the humongous rifle in one hand.

"Eat this, suckers!!!!"

With a yell, the biker had aimed the rifle at the lead huge demon and fired off a blast; the slug kicked out of the barrel, and scored a direct hit on the ugly head of the giant demon, blowing it up into a mess of blood and gore. The rest of the body, bereft of its head, wavered in its position for a moment, and then collapsed onto the floor, dead as a dodo.

"The bigger they are", the biker quipped, as he reloaded the rifle with barely a scarce thought of concern, "the harder I kill."

He brought the rifle to bear on the next giant demon.

"Bring it on!!!"

(OOC: Now what kind of anti-tank rifle does that, exactly? You tell me......I was just basing this off the first boss of Time Crisis 4. :p )

None of the 'tank' demons had been counting on the bike riding newcomer to possess such a weapon, promptly demolishing the head of their comrade. A mixture of shock and anger fuelled roars that shook the very ground as they continued the charge, picking up speed in order to close the distance in less time.

The demon on the furthest left locked eyes with whoever this new enemy was before doing something completely unexpected. Lowering itself on massive muscle bound legs, the creature launched itself several feet into the air before landing directly infront of the gun wielding foe. Without hesitation an enourmous clawed arm swept up from the demon's side and slammed into the enemy before it, launching him into the air for quite some distance before hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

The other four demons altered their path in order to continue the assault whilst the initial attacker turned to face Rikan, intent on killing the human that had slain so many lesser demons.
_________________

Now staring directly into the face of the dragon, the winged demon snarled in fury. He realised if the dragon was facing him then it was going unleash more of it's icy breath, attempting to freeze it's attacker.

Obviously not wanting this to happen, the demon screeched it released it's own natural talents, bursting into flames in order to counter the ice. The fire itself would not harm this particular demon at all and was easily enough to counter the ice.

Taking the dragon's evident surprise, the demon continued to attack, tearing free a single scale.
___________________

Nez'gah's demonic hearing allowed him to easily hear the words spoken by the woman holding Abaddon's pet hostage and was barely able to control his anger.

Not willing to allow the destruction of the demon army, Nez'gah communicated with the multiple spellcasters within the demon horde.

"Ranged attack is imminent, bunch the army and establish protection."

Acknowledging the commands, the demons acting as officers began commanding the army, much of it grouping tightly together as it retreated, soon to be surrounded by a web of energies invisible to most eyes. Power surged through the spellcasters and Nez'gah as he aided in binding the magiks.

Those left outside the shield would continue to fight, they were easily replaced.

Darius roared in pain in anger as he felt a scale ripped from his body. The demon had shocked him when the fire whipped around the creature. Darius felt the burn on his scales and his wings. He knew he had to break contact with the beast in order to save himself from cooking to death. Darius roared and dug his talons into the flesh of the demon and fired another blast of air. The ice vaporized on contact with the flame, but the distraction was enough for Darius to rip free of the creature.

The dragon angled upwards and felt the rush of cool air against its hot body. Darius spun around in the air to see the demon resetting itself for another attack. The dragon twitched his talons and looked down at them with glee. He saw several large chunks of black and red meat on them.

The dragon swooped to the side and up as the demon tried another ram, but instead of waiting for the beast to turn, Darius rolled over and dived down on it and smashed right onto its back. The dragon roared and promptly began to tear into the wings of the demon with his teeth while his talons tore at the monster’s back.

In the maws of the enemy

Abaddon growled as Perigrine snatched him and pulled him closer. Instinctively, he turned as she pulled, putting himself between Lillit and Perigrine. However, her words of warning were heeded, and he watched as the first of the firestorm came raining down from above. At first, he was dismayed, though he didn't show it. Then, he turned his attention to the largest masses of demons below, and smiled somewhat sinisterly as the demons enacted shields barely in time to deflect the oncoming artillery. He watched as the rounds slammed collectively, ceaselessly, into the shields, creating dark red ripples that echoed outward. Strangely, and somewhat surprisingly, the shields held strong.

Turning to Perigrine, Abaddon exhaled slowly, his chin raised slightly as he watched her expression of the results below. Although there were a good number of demons dying outside the dome shields, casualties were moderately low. Her expression revealed nothing, something he was beginning to realize was common for her. In close proximity of her however, his mind was strong in its delving powers, and he sensed frustration, perhaps even a slight fear of the resilience of demons on this world.

"You didn't destroy the world when we first started taking over Tarlachia, so I'm not really compelled to believe your threat, although I'm sure you're capable of it. You won't do it for the sake of your friends, or at least because of the orders of your superiors."

Turning his attention to Nez'Gah whom was momentarily distracted by his effort to help safeguard the demon hordes, Abaddon spoke through mental channels, Retreat the troops to strongholds within Tarlachia. It's time to change tactics. His eyes sought out the angelic nearby, whom was shielded with his staff, a bright white glow surrounding his form, protecting him from the attacks from above. Instead of colliding with his shield, Liam had fused the shield with a transparency spell, effectively making him ghostlike so that the attacks would appear to go through him, yet he remained unharmed. To those of higher understanding, Liam had moved to another plane of existence, yet remained tied slightly to this one.

Turning back to Peregrine, he addressed her carefully, his words darkly ominous, "You win this battle, but the war is mine." Such confidence he portrayed, as if he knew of a secret, a terrible secret that would ensure his victory.
_____________________________

The Raxhun and the Demonic Goliath

"Well, what do we have here?", the silver-haired biker quipped, instantly going into 'flirt' mode. "What's a babe like you doing in this mess, eh?"

You've got to be kidding me. Rikan spun her head to see the man upon the motorcycle. He obviously eyed her like candy, and this enraged her. However, her chance for retribution was stolen as a massive clawed paw slammed into the man and flung him far away mercilessly. Three ten foot demons roared and pounded across the shattered Tarlachian earth in pursuit of the flung man.

Rikan turned with a cold wave washing through her spine as she heard and felt the first heavy footsteps of last behemoth. A large hind foot slammed into earth where merely a few seconds later she had stood. Now, she had moved in a rapid rolling motion between the creature's legs to end up behind him. Spinning right up onto her feet, she turned and viciously dug her bracer-blades into the creature's thick legs, right at the back of the knees.

In a moment of deafening noise, the creature roared as her blades found a weakness in the thick skin. It bent its knees, ready to crush Rikan under its massive posterior or backside. Yet once again, her agility lent her a few more minutes of life. Borrowed time... she couldn't help but think as she leapt up and scurried up the creatures massive arm and onto its chest. Feeling the muscles under her feet moving as the beast prepared to slam a heavy fist down on her, she leapt forward and landed upon the creature's lower jaw first, then onto its forehead. A deep growl emanated from below her as the fist thundered through the air toward her and slammed with all its might into the vacant forehead. Promptly, the demon's arm fell to the earth, knocked out cold. Rikan looked up at the lopsided face, seeing the none-too-slight indentation of the fistmark upon the forehead. She shook her head in disbelief.

A few seconds later, a terrible roar rose again, but not from organic sources. She turned to see a wave of fire raining from the heavens, and knew the truth immediately.

If she ran, she was dead.

Turning back to the beast, she shuddered slightly as she moved to the far side of the behemoth's body and tucked her self into a tight ball under the creatures overhanging armpit. The stench reeked horribly, but she dared not move. Instead, she held her breath...

Something caught Perigrine's attention, though come the future she would never be able to say what, and she felt something insubstancial riffiling though her mind. A sensation much like the union between her and Shadow Dancer through the cybermatrix. Why you arrogant son! deliberately she called forth the memories of launching a nova weapon in to the star that provided life to the Oni home system. Watching the missile sped past defenses brought on line too late. The stellar furnace, wrtithing in pain as the gravitic bonds that held the sun together were ruptured.

A nova born of technology, a nova that swelled forth, raceing to the furthest reaches of the solar system, scouring eleven planest with implacable all consuming fire. Relentless fire that devoured every life in the sytem.

"Oh yes Abaddon, I have done it before, and I would have no qualms about doing it again. I AM Nietzschean - we do not give up, we do not give in, we are bred to overcome.

"You win this battle, but the war is mine.

"As I said, and I am not prone to repeating myself. This is not your war, go fight the your Adversary. That is a battle worthy of you." Inwardly she admired his confidence.He would make a fine Alpha, and would not he throw strong offspring. Mating with him would be like riding the whirlwind. Fun and totally dangerous. But is not that what it is all about? She asked herself with a hidden smile.

The horde of demons protected by Nez'gah and the spellcasters promptly killed any Tarlachians caught within the spelled protection, tearing them to pieces within minutes as the barrage of missiles pounded against the shield. Many simply watched, gazing upon enemies with a snarl and extreme desire to cause significant bodily harm.

Nez'gah merely grinned as he too was protected by his own shield of similar energies. These friends of the Tarlachians may have advanced technology but they would soon find out demonic magiks were up to the test of combat.

Retreat the troops to strongholds within Tarlachia. It's time to change tactics.

Seeing the logic in such a decision, Nez'gah complied.

"Underway."

The message was quickly passed down to the commanders and the horde began to move away from the retreating Tarlachians, the shield remaining in place so as to cover the demonic army. Whilst they may have escaped destruction in this battle, there was no doubt the horde would not simply leave Tarlachia.

With the retreat underway, Nez'gah returned his attention to Abaddon.

"I would suggest we leave then, we have more important things to deal with..."

They brought it on, all right. No doubt about that, at all.

"Urrrrrgh......", the mysterious biker groaned, as he slowly picked himself up from where the humongous strike had left him sprawled on the ground. It seemed a miracle at all that he could even stand though, after suffering an attack which would have broken the body of any mere mortal. Naturally, it was clear for all to see that the lone ranger was no mere mortal; apart from some horrendous-looking injuries stretching the width of his body, he actually seemed barely the worse for wear from such a lethal strike.

"Okay, that hurt......", he conceded to himself, yet he was still grinning like a maniac, even if there was a hint of a pained grimace in that grin. Slowly, he tightened his grip on the anti-tank rifle that he had somehow managed to keep his hand on, even after being batted away like a foul ball; the anti-tank rifle began to shift once again, dissolving back into the dark mass from which it was formed, then reforming itself, once again, into the great big zanbato which the biker had used earlier to skewer one of the hapless demons on his charge into the fray. Stabbing it into the ground, the leather-clad biker used it as a prop to stand, his other hand clutching the place where the claws had dug deep into his torso, blood spewing forth from punctured organs and broken ribs.

As he slowly stood up, goliaths charging towards him, a demon of the grunt variety attempted to rush him from behind.

Zwing

The great Zantetsuken swung around once in the air, and then thudded back into the ground again tip-first, as if it moved of its own accord, and not of the will of the biker. The demon was nowhere to be seen.......but as the sword-wielding biker stretched out an upraised palm, pieces of the demon's body rained down around him, and the unlucky thing's head landed nicely onto the silver-haired biker's palm.

"Amateurs. Even in the demon world you get them stupid punks......"

Then, he opened his mouth; revealing, for the first time, the fangs hidden beneath. They were sharp-looking, and definitely of a predatory nature; without hesitation, the mysterious biker plunged his fangs into the skull of the demon, sucking god knows what nourishment from it. In a matter of seconds, the head had dissolved into barely more than ash; the biker too, was fully healed, although his blood still stained the white shirt underneath his leather jacket.

"Okay, now you bastards really are gonna pay......"

The biker picked up the great zanbato from the ground, waving it in the faces of the great demons that were still charging at him. In the distance, one of the great demons, the one that had struck him, was preoccupied with the babe he had barely had time to introduce himself to; she appeared to be putting up a fairly good fight against the behemoth. Well, can't do anything for her now, he thought to himself, as he raised the great sword, preparing to joust with the remainder of the goliaths charging towards him.

That is, until he heard the unearthly roar, and turned to see what it was as well. And what he saw wasn't quite to his liking.

"Well.......crap. But what the hell."

The biker beckoned with one hand; in the distance, his fallen bike Cerberus revved its engine of its own accord. Then, it righted itself, and went full throttle; the riderless bike ran towards its rider under its own volition, weaving and dodging between the legs of the great demons even now charging towards the biker. With a leap, the biker leapt onto Cerberus, and sped away.

"C'mon, go go go go go go go go......"

The Zantetsuken dissolved into a dark mist again, and this time, the entirety of the mist entered the armored bike. Thrusters sprouted from the rear of the bike; the sounds of twin jet engines on afterburner roared in the biker's ears as it shot forward by a good magnitude of its usual speed.

"Go go go go go go go......."

The silver-haired biker sped pell-mell towards the line of Tarlachian mechs, attempting with all his heart to make it to sanctuary before the first missiles hit......

Darius watched as the demon’s corpse tumbled from the sky. He was going to roar in triumph, but he noted something very disturbing. Down below he watched the armies start to run. His ears picked up an unearthly roar from above and he looked into the heavens to see what appeared to be large rockets barreling towards Earth. Darius let out a loud roar for his clan to retreat to where the other Tarlachians were going.

Darius meanwhile turned and angled straight for the ground, picking up as much speed as he could as he headed back towards the mountains. He did not forget about Stephen and Nicole, with the sun still out, it was impossible to move them. He knew there was no time to find a larger dragon and hopefully convince them to carry one or both of the vampires safely in its jaws before reaching a building where they could rest till evening. Darius also had a somewhat higher calling. There were some females back in the mountains tending to the injured and caring for the pups that lost their families. He had to warn them and get them to safety.

The dragon knew the mountains were tough, the earthquake that had shattered them was not natural, and a normal earthquake might drop some pebbles and dust, but not collapse entire caves. Darius knew of several thicker walled caves that were deeper in the earth, they should provide enough protecting from the rockets coming down from above.

The dragon made one last look upwards before giving another, strong beat to his wings as the mountains fully came into view.

A moment of tense peace

"As I said, and I am not prone to repeating myself. This is not your war, go fight the your Adversary. That is a battle worthy of you."

Abaddon looked the Nietzschean in the eye, admiring the defiance in them. He did like strong women, women who weren't afraid of telling him their mind. Pity she is not on our side. he thought briefly as he delivered his answer to her, "My adversary pride themselves on the fruits of their labors, in this case, this world. They have come to see its inhabitants as their own children, and thus this is an avenue of revenge for me to travel."

His eyes darkened as he reached out with his mind to the Nietzchean's own, this time making no effort to conceal such as he flooded her mind's eye with images of a time of strife, agony, and ultimately anger. She saw the battle before time, she watched as Lillit and Abaddon were struck down viciously, their wings torn asunder. The chains that bound them seared their flesh as the seraphim buried their magic spells into their bodies, limiting their abilities. The Nietzchean saw the anger through Abaddon's eyes as he wearily looked over to Lillit whom hung unconscious against a wall. She heard his whispered vow uttered, "I will bring death to you and your kind in ways you'll never know!" As the nearest seraphim, one clad in golden armor, delivered a massive blow to Abaddon's face, the imagery ended, returning the Nietzchean to the present day.

Abaddon looked at her solemnly, "Now you see why I do what I do. Forces of light and goodness? Hypocrites! I only wanted recognition for my services, and they cast me down, banished me to the Underworld, and eventually stripped me of many of my powers."

He looked down at Lillit in his arms, still unconscious. "I swore to avenge them for their wrong actions, and I will repay their deeds a thousand-fold!" Giving one last glance to Peregrine, both he and Lillit shimmered out of sight.

________________________________

The stinkin' battlefield

A somewhat loud gasp emitted from beneath the burned flesh of the large demon and a few seconds later, its arm was cast aside slightly. Rising from the shadows of the creature's armpit and nearly gagging, Rikan stood and looked about the battlefield.

The bodies that literally covered the landscape like a blanket were overwhelming in view, seen to the horizons. She knew that soon enough, there would be a stench that would reek like nothing the world had seen. Waving a hand in front of her face to fan away the stench of the demon whose body had sheltered her from the airstrike, she turned to gaze upon the Tanaran mechazoids that stood some distance away shielding the surviving Tarlachians. All stood solemnly, surveying the destruction all around.

Looking upward, she noted the seraphim Liam whom was now alone. He too was surveying the damage on the earth and from the posture he held, she realized that Abaddon and the other demon were nowhere nearby anymore. Did they die? she wondered briefly before shaking the idea from her mind. No, they wouldn't have died from something as mediocre as this. She gazed at the bodies again, Then again...if this is mediocre, then I don't want to see what would be considered 'extreme' force...

Wiping with futile efforts the blood from her clothes, she began to make her way to the mech-enforced security zone, her movements catching the eyes of many Tarlachians as she neared. To many, she seemed like a ghost, and yet they saw she was still alive. Many wondered how a fellow citizen had been able to survive such devastation. It gave great credit to the Raxhun, and even some unsolicted admiration.

"I swore to avenge them for their wrong actions, and I will repay their deeds a thousand-fold!"

"Don't you dare say it Perigrine Omega, but you understand him far gbetter than you wish to admit." Sha'Do said tartly as the avatar joined the Neitzschean. "You may act out of logical necessity, but that doesn't mean that it's not also revenge, and that you don't enjoy it."

"Aye I probably do. But he is petty to take his wrath out on lesser beings - contesting with ones equals, or those vanishing few who might be superior is where the true test lies, where one proves ones self."

"Perigrine Omega, you are so Nietzscchean it's frighting." Sha'Do laughed, uhphased by Perigrine's affronted look. "Lets get back into space where we can keep a decent over watch. And deliver our passenger to the habitats."

She had taken Aeris's body from Perigine as she and Abaddon had moved inside the ship to avoid the energy wave. The gravely injured girl was in the 'hands' of the ships highly advanced medical technology.

Perigrine nodded and the Shadow Dancer raced for the eternal night of space.

***********************

Captain Hexx jumped from her Mech's cockpit and moved toward the one who appeared to be not only the last survivor but leader of the Tarlachian forces the advance lance of the 501st had been protecting.

"I say, we didn't think any one would have survived that, and he barely made it behind the shields." Hexx, an attractive, despite the combat rig, blonde nodded to the silver haired biker who had ridden for his life upon some sort of unearthly motorcycle.

She kicked in her mech's amplified voice, addressing all of the survivors.. "We have transports coming to take all of you to our encampment were medical personell are waiting."

Darius looked at the smoking battlefield from a high cliff. He wondered if Tala and Tak or if any other of his clan had survived. He saw several shapes slowly moving in the sky towards him, his heart jumped with joy as he recognized them, yet his heart collapsed seeing so few of them and tears fell from his eyes when he saw Tala and Tak were not among them.

Counting the eight females they had left to guard the young and eggs and the five survivors of the battle, including Darius,…We are destroyed. The dragon thought numbly to himself. Though, he knew there was always still hope, he knew that some survivors appeared a few hours or a day or two after the battle so the dragon still kept some hopes up.

Darius watched as the few survivors landed and one of the young males hobbled up, his front left leg injured, his right eye missing and he had numerous cracked and missing scales. “What are we to do now? We are too few in number to defend ourselves here.”

“Go and begin to gather the young and eggs. I’ll fly back to the battlefield…there are these massive machines that everyone seemed to be making for. I shall see if any can be spared for us to transport our families. It would take too long to do it ourselves and we would be overwhelmed if attacked here. Has anyone seen my brother or sister?”

The dragons looked at each other and the same one eyed male looked at Darius. “Tak was knocked from the sky by magic…I tried to save him but he was overtaken like ants over honey. We haven’t seen Tala since the battle began.”

Darius slowly nodded, trying to hide his emotion. As the survivors moved towards the caves to begin the move, Darius stood alone on the cliff. He turned his gaze to the battlefield, praying that Tala had made it to safety. Turning around, he flew back to his own cave and he found the boulder he had placed there missing. The path on the dirty before dropping over the edge to the valley below told him it was the shockwaves of the explosions that caused it.

The dragon moved into the darkness. “Stephen? Nicole?”

“Darius?” Nicole called out. The dragon rounded the corner to find the vampires behind a small wall of stones, their weapons drawn. “We heard the fighting…what has happened?”

The dragon collapsed on the floor and he found the vampires at his side. “My clan is down to only about a dozen. Many brave Tarlachians were killed. The demons move in a swarm, there were so many…I must have killed at least hundred...or hundreds, yet there were still so many more. My brother is dead and my sister is missing. Right now we are preparing to move the young and eggs from the mountains…we cannot defend ourselves here so we are moving to where the rest of the armies are.”

The dragon stood. “It is still daylight out. I am going back to find a transport for you and every egg or young we can’t carry.”

Stephen nodded. “Alright Darius. We’ll be here.”

The dragon nodded and departed the cave. Darius took to the sky and flew back to the battlefield. Craters covered the blackened land and charred corpses coated the land so thick one could walk across it on them and never touch the burnt soil. He saw scattered groups of Tarlachian survivors making for or lying exhausted near the large metal machines and he spotted a woman rallying them to her. With the few bits of English he knew, he picked up transport and medical.

The dragon landed on the ground near the woman. Darius landed and began to move to her, ignoring everyone but the woman who had her voice amplified through the machine. The dragon stared at her as he stopped a few feet away, he hoped she knew Draconic or had a translator for he couldn’t speak English.

“My clan is down to only a dozen. We have many eggs and young up in the mountains and we are too few in number to transport them all. Can you spare a few of your machines to transport them and two vampire friends to safety? We cannot defend ourselves in the mountains from this threat. Please…it would take us too long to get the young to safety and some of us are badly injured and during the time the demons could find us and kill the youngster. Please…”

Darius bowed his head and lowered it down to the ground, submitting to the woman. “I am begging you to help us.”

Minutes ago......

"Go go go go go go go......", the biker continued to chant, as he continued his desperate pell-mell rush towards the Tarlachian mech line. Even at the maximum speed which Cerberus was capable of though, the line still seemed so far away; oh, how far away they were. And now he could clearly see the missile barrage streaking in from the sky, looking like so many burning meteorites homing in unto the battleground. And despite his mad rush, it didn't look like he was about to make it in time, even with a bike equipped with twin jet engines set on afterburner.

"Argh, fuck this!"

At his colorful exclamation, the demonic bike responded; it retracted the jet engines back into the folds of its armour, depriving itself of the boost that the engines gave it. As the sentient bike continued on its still substantial speed through the sheer force of inertia, it took a different approach to the problem at hand. The black armour plating of Cerberus shifted again, revealing twin Gatlings extending from its rear, pointed at the sky; Cerberus had decided that CIWS weaponry would be the better solution at this point.

"Good one, Cerberus!!!"

The Gatling CIWS guns let fly; slugs upon slugs flew into the air as the missiles approached, ripping into the missiles that were targeted most closely on the biker's position, and detonating them prematurely before they could injure the said biker on his headlong rush to safety. Still, two Gatling guns against a horde of missiles were still at a disadvantage, and even with the more immediate threats neutralized, it was only a matter of time before the majority of the missiles hit the ground and owned him. With nothing left to lose, the silver-haired biker decided on a desperate last measure.

"Ho, Cerberus, fly!"

With that, the biker pulled up on the handlebars of the demonic bike, and the bike responded by leaping up into the air, just as the first missiles struck a short distance away........

___________________________________________________________________________________

Fast forward to the present......

The impact of the missile barrage was not a small one, and the shockwaves could be felt even behind the safety of the defensive line held by the Tarlachian mechs. As far as the survivors could see, the battlefield was consumed by fire; nothing could have possibly survived the firestorm that had blossomed, throwing all sorts of debris up into the air with it.

But one particular piece of debris, even from that far a distance away, clearly had a defined shape to it, and it was headed the Tarlachians' way. Closer it came to the mechs, and as it got closer, it became more apparent what the piece of 'debris' was, as impossible as it may have seemed; the silver-haired biker on his demonic bike, utilizing the force of the explosion to blow himself skyward the rest of the way towards the defensive line, and somehow escaping the worst of the destruction that the said missiles wrought on the rest of the battlefield. Inbound the biker came; from the height that he was coming in from, any living thing would have landed as a splatter on the ground, and any piece of machinery would have been reduced to its component nuts and bolts from such a fall. Yet the biker was no ordinary human being, nor was his steed any ordinary machine; lightly onto the ground bike and rider dropped, sliding through the mechs into the safety of the shields like all he had attempted was some particularly spectacular stunt, seemingly none the worse for wear. It was a performance worthy of great applause; and even amongst the war-weary Tarlachians, a smattering of applause ensued for the impossible stunt that the mysterious biker had just pulled as he skidded to a stop behind the line.

"Woooo.......that was intense........", the biker panted, as he righted Cerberus, and put on the stand to keep it in place. With the worst over, he could finally lean shakily on his machine, and finally break out a smoke, lighting it and putting it to his lips.

"Whoa, nelly. That was some crazy shit I pulled there, man."

"I say, we didn't think any one would have survived that, and he barely made it behind the shields."

The biker turned towards the source of the voice, smoke trailing out of his lips and nostrils as he exhaled the deep breath of tobacco he had just pulled from his smoke. An attractive blonde, one of the pilots of the damned huge machines he was sitting under the shadows of, by the looks of it. Even the combat rig she was wearing didn't detract from her attractiveness one bit, and the biker grinned.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, babe", he husked, getting up and walking over as if nothing had happened, and happily taking liberties with the blonde as he put an arm around her waist. "What say you we go have a drink after all this mess, eh? That is, if we can find a bar still running in all this mess."

"What say you we go have a drink after all this mess, eh? That is, if we can find a bar still running in all this mess."

Merrideath didn't bother to answer him as a pair of giant fingers, with unbelieveably delicate skill and precission, picked the silver haired man up and away from her. "I'm busy, maybe later." Her calm voice replied as she moved toward the other massive figure that had just landed. The mech set him down and took the stride or two needed to be along side the dragon.

Then mecha went down on one knee, and the ampilifed voice dropped to 'normal' as Merrideath stood near the dragon's head, and winced at the wounds he bore. The psimechs of the Tanaran Empire did indeed possess translators as standard

“I am begging you to help us.”

"Yes we can have a transport here in minutes. Do your people need caves for proper dwelling? My maps show an extensive cave system on the Tanaaran side of the border mountains." The Captain of Scouts for the 501st asked concernedly. The 501st had a frightful reputation, one they cultivated aussidiously, but it was just a reputation, not fact.

Darius looked up at the woman on the machine; his eyes were filled with exhaustion and pain. He nodded slowly as the woman mentioned caves.

“We do not need caves yet they are greatly preferred as they offer more protection for the young when they hatch. Yes…caves would work.” Darius bowed his head and when he looked back up; Merrideath could see joy and gratitude mixed in with exhaustion and pain. Darius was beginning to feel better already, a transport was coming, the young and the vampires could be taken to safety. Things were actually looking brighter for him, though the death of his brother and possible death of his sister still tore at him.

“Thank you…we are in your debt.”

“Thank you…we are in your debt.”

"No speaking of debt. We are glad to help. We will make sure that there are those who can heal with...magic there." Her voice was dubious. "I don't know how it works but I've seen it heal some terrible wounds. And we'll need to know your dietary needs so we can make sure you are all properly fed."

Minutes later, in response to her communication concerning the plight of the Dragons and the other surviving Tarlachian defenders, numerous transposts appeared, including those big enough to transport beings the size of Dragons.

and as Merrideath mentioned, with them were those who healed with majic, for the dragons were simply far too large to fit within the Tanaran medical machines.

Darius looked up into the sky as the transports arrived. Several of the larger ones hovered nearby and Darius knew they were for his kind. He turned back to the woman, he gave another bow.

“Thank you…I am Darius and I am in your debt.”

With that, Darius turned and flapped into the air with the transports behind him. He glided for the most part, a few beats to gain some speed and altitude and then glided. He let out a series of cries as they entered the mountains. Darius led the transports to a flat area in the mountains were one or at a pinch two could land at a time. The dragon began to rally his kind as the first transport kissed the ground. The dragons worked quickly yet with focus as they brought, probably much to the distress of the crews, branches and leaves into the bowels of the ships before bringing their eggs or pups into them. The pups were hesitant; many were still crying over the loss of their families and were afraid of the machines.

It took some coaxing from the adults, but one by one the transports were loaded with the eggs and pups along with a single female to keep the pups in check and make sure the precious cargo was transported safely. Darius felt better as he watched the last transport left for safety. There was also a small transport that arrived a few minutes later than the others. Darius pointed them to his cave where Stephen and Nicole were. Despite obvious nervousness, the humans went in with black tarps and a few minutes later Darius watched as the vampires were walked out draped completely in black and put into the transport and taken back to where the armies were rallying.

He turned back to the wounded fighters of the battle.

“Back on the other side there are humans around these massive machines who can heal you with magic. Once you are healed, go to the Tanaaran Mountains on the border, that is where they are taking our families for safety.”

The one-eyed male, named Goric looked at Darius through his one eye. “What about you Darius? We are staying with you…we will fight to the end.”

The other fighters grunted in agreement, they were fierce and wanted more dead demons, but Darius knew the clan needed to be rebuilt. “I understand yet you must go. You are all badly injured though you may be healed you need rest. I am hurt yet my wounds are nothing to yours. I will stay here. Go…please. Rebuild the clan; Goric…if something happens to me you are in charge.”

The other dragons looked at each other and nodded. One by one the dragons lifted off towards the Tanaaran lines to be healed before making their way to the mountains where the eggs and pups were being taken. Darius flexed his tried wings and took off into the sky. As he glided across the burnt earth, his eye caught a flash of white and ice blue.

Angling sharply, the dragon dove down on what he saw and landed with a brisk jog as he approached the thing he saw from the air. His heart broke and tears flowed across his scaly face. Tala’s broken body lay before him, one tattered wing shifting in the wind, blood covering her body; numerous scales had been shredded off from a mix of magic and attacks by demons. Her eyes were closed and it almost looked like she was sleeping.

Overcome with grief and fighting against all that his brain and heart told him, Darius slowly moved forward and gently licked her face. He stood there and looked at her still body; he gently nudged the head, licked her and whimpered. Tears fell from his eyes and splashed on the ground as he slowly pulled back, Tala was not in deep sleep…she was dead.

Tears continued to flow from Darius’ eyes as he let out a long, mournful cry that was heard clearly across the smoke of the battlefield and carried to the ears of the humans gathering at the rally point.

Even two giant mechanical fingers picking him up off the ground didn't seem to faze the incorrigible flirt of a biker one bit, but then again, one could probably assume that after all he had been through in the past hour, if not one thing had fazed him so far then probably this one wouldn't. As it was, it certainly did nothing to wipe off the mad grin that peeped out from under the silver hair of the biker, although he did envince a resigned air about himself as he shrugged.

"Shot down again......", he sighed jokingly to himself, as the mech put him down before joining its pilot to face a dragon that had landed in front of them, making all sorts of dragon-y noises. The biker watched with some interest at the conversation between the dragon and the Tanaaran pilot who had shot him down, or at least what seemed to pass for conversation. They must have some kind of translator on that metal hunk somewhere, he thought, for certainly he could not understand dragon-speak, although one didn't have to be versed in that language to see that the dragon was in distress, and most likely seeking help from the Tanaaran forces. Just as just about everyone else in Tarlachia was seeking aid from the Tanaarans, their own government having failed them.

How long would it be before this debt is repaid?, the biker thought to himself, as he mounted Cerberus once more, gunning its engine. There was nothing more he could do here, and besides, it seemed like the Tanaarans had everything down pat. A pity that he failed to get the number of the blonde hottie who piloted that Mech, but you win some, you lose some.

With the roar of hundreds of horsepower, Cerberus sped off, away from the scene once again, heading off towards destinations unknown.

____________________________________________________________________________

It was a scorched land, a wasted land, removed of all things living by the missile barrage that had all but brought down Armageddon onto the battlefield where not so long ago, a bloody battle to the death ensued. Now, nothing remained, not Tarlachian survivor, not Arithonian demon, nothing. Blood wet the land as the armoured bike ran over it, its fat tyres grappling for every scrap of grip it could get on the blood-soaked ground. The countenance of the biker, so flippant even in the face of death, was now somewhat changed from before, slightly more serious, even though the playful demeanour still remained somewhat.

A draconic howl of grief sounded over the land; the biker looked up in the sky, looking in the direction where he thought the cry came from. However, it was not what he was specifically looking for, and in fact, the object of his search was already coming up before his eyes. An angelic being, still floating over the scene of the battle, surveying the land like a divine commander watching aghast at the unravelling of his plans.

With a twist of the handlebars, the biker skidded Cerberus to a stop. Taking his time about doing things, the silver-haired man got off lazily, kicked the stand of the sentient bike, and walked around it, surveying the angel with his outstretched wings as he leaned back against his bike, using it as a support for his butt while he leaned on it. Black mist formed in the figure's hand; it became a mobile phone, which the biker promptly flipped open, and played about with the buttons for a while. A grin widened on his face as the display screen of his phone read 'Liam Celadrin', and with a press of the 'Call' button, the biker put the phone to his ear.

Way up high, Liam heard the voice of a long-time acquaintance as a psychic message, and lowering his head, saw the said acquaintance far below him on the ground, while the familiar irritating casualness of said acquaintance's tone sounded in his mind.

Hey, ol' chap! Stop playing at being the angel on top of da Christmas tree, and get down from there already!

Ten years later...

A whirring noise could be heard briefly as the system booted up and began to run a playback of a file artistically entitled, 'Crimson Tide'. Several seconds later, a series of photos, holograms, and videos of the devastating war could be seen.

Click.A hand touched the holoscreen, pausing it. Demonic forces raging forth from the depths of hell were frozen in place, their sneering bloodlust prevalent. Click.

The next segment flashed before the viewer, this time showing the battlefields, starting with the one that had started it all, the one that held the greatest number of casualties. The bodies that lay still, blood-soaked, faces gripped in catonic fear and surprise. The missile storm that had laid waste to the first battle, had left great craters and wounds in the earth. Click.

A hand rose to her mind as she gripped the edge of her seat. She could hear the screams of millions of victims, the cries for mercy of the slain. At first, shortly after the war, she was as fine as could be, although the memories of the war remained fresh. Then, as the years had passed, she began to experience unprovoked visions, memories of a slain race demanding justice. Yet, each time, she pushed the visions away, her doubt of her abilities prevalent. Further, despite her doubts and fears, she couldn't bring herself to completely dispose of her past. A fist slammed the desk before her, rattling the holoscreen slightly. "Tarlachia is dead..." she muttered. "He is too strong now..."

Click. (http://www.atddm.com/ftm11.jpg) ((ooc: click the 'Click'! hehe.)) The screen changed to that of a political map, detailed lines criss-crossing the lands of Fatal Terrain. Much of the region had remained the same, and much had also fallen under the seemingly unstoppable forces. Tarlachia and Arithon were joined together, although still distinctly separate, their borders to engulf the entirity of the northeastern part of the region, save for the distant islands of the Gothic Underworld.

In response to the imperialistic expansion of the demon hordes, Tanaara and her motherland, Tanara had established militaristic presence in the northwest. With a vast empire of resources to draw from, Tanaran forces had been quick to establish military bases at the borders of the Demonic Empire, to be staffed by allies of the fallen Tarlachia or those that wished to see the expansion of the demonic realm halted. In the southwestern portion of Tarlachia however, the reputable 501st of the Tanaran Armed Forces held ground, a small foothold on the lands that once was Tarlachia. Unfortunately, they held few critical cities, as most were to the east and north, deeply embedded in the hands of the demon lord, Abaddon and his minions.

In further response to the demonic expansions, The Militarized Zone, a collective and impressive gathering of armed forces from around the region, maintained a buffer zone between the empire and fellow allies to the south, the closest being that of the Golden Simitar. The unity of allies against the dark storm of the north proved over the years to be resilient against constant attacks and barrages of the power-hungry, and land-hungry demons. It was a fortress that stretched hundreds of miles, and it was doing exactly what it had been created to do.

Click. The screen went blank, indicating the end of the file's archives. Rising from the seat, the female turned and strode to the windows that looked out into the vast darkness of space. She missed the forests that had once been her home, now gone and devastated. She missed the lifestyle that made her people infamous, and most of all, she missed her mother. A tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind. Her thoughts turned to Liam, whom had disappeared shortly after the war, as was that mysterious rider whom she had seen several clips of him in action, courtesy of the on-board recorders of the Tanaran mechs that had held a safety zone in the first battle. Where he had gone, she did not know, and she wished he would return and take this pain away she felt resonating deep in her heart.

"My lady."

Turning, Aeris faced the young woman whom stood at the entrance to the room. "My lady," the girl repeated, "Your presence is requested by Dowager Emperess Michiko Jones. She wished you to accompany her in her private quarters."

Aeris nodded slowly, turning away once more to stare at the distant stars of space. When she heard the door close, she then turned and approached her dressing room, where she discarded her nightclothes for simple clothes that had become her custom since the war. No longer did she wear the clothes of her people, clothes that were created from the earth itself, but now she wore clothes that, at first, were uncomfortable, alien to her. She struggled inwardly to drown the sorrows of the past into the murky depths of history, blood covering the memories.

As she neared the door and rose her hand to tap the panel, she paused, using her other hand to wipe the tears free and regain her composure. She knew she had to appear strong, willing to do what was necessary for the good of the remnants of Tarlachia, despite her desire to do otherwise. She had to continue this facade for her host and mentor, Michiko Jones. A few seconds later, the door finally slid open and she departed the darkening room, its lights dimming as sensors noted the departure of any sentient beings, an effort to limit the waste of unnecessary energy.

Striding down the corridor with her head held high and her her gaze impenetrable, she at last passed through the doors that led to the Emperess' private quarters, a room that was much more than it's name suggested. It was almost as if an entire castle had been lifted up from some obscure location and placed directly into the ship they were traveling within. Stopping just inside the doorway and looking toward the Emperess whom was several feet away, she spoke,

"You requested my presence?"

It was in fact an entire castle picked up and transplanted by the technology of the Tanaran Empire and transported to settle within a giant hollowed out asteroid, or more precisely a planetoid.

The dowager empress, the first Empress of the Tanaran Empire to be precise, stood on a balcony that opened off the magnificent room, and looked over the vast park where children played.

"You requested my presence?"

Michiko Jones (http://www.atddm.com/michiko.jpg) turned and gave the young woman a searching glance. "If you don't want it, give it up." She said calmly, then waved away the beginings of protest. "The ship tells me that you have been crying, and watching the past again and again. Either give it up, or move on and do what your people need you to do. The children who romp in the gardens below know nothing of their native land, their home save what they learn in school, nothing of Tarlachia as a land, a unwounded people, a free people."

"Their parents know differently, as do you."

Her words were gentle but firm, as was her expression.

"And Abbadon causes more pain and more despair to those who were unable to be rescued, then enslaved, every day. Lead or get off the throne. For if I have to, I will step in and pit the might of the Empire against Abaddon, and Tarlachia-that-remians will be turned to glass. He threatens too many others for us to allow him free rein any longer.

And if Aeris knew nothing else of Michiko Jones by now she knew that Michiko meant every word she said. The dowager Empress was nothing if not a woman of blunt speech in private, though she was scarcely more circumspect in public.

"Mother is right you know." Race (http://www.atddm.com/Tomo1.jpg), as most knew him, Michiko's eldest son, said softly, his voice laden with compassion as he came to stand beside his mother. "It's not fair to your people, and it's not fair to you

Aeris gave a glare to Michiko as she scolded her. She couldn't understand how the Emperess could maintain such a degree of nonchalance. She managed to keep her retort in check, yet she still gave the woman her leveled response.

"I hardly think you're in a position to understand what I do now. An entire nation effectively eliminated, a destroyed race whose hope for survival and rescue dwindles with each day. Yet, they are Tarlachians, and to the end they will fight as best as they can. There is no other alternative."

Glancing over to Race for a moment as she took another breath, she continued, "You cannot possibly understand the very rage that courses through my veins right now. It is a rage that superceeds anything of my capability, a rage that belongs to a destroyed race demanding retribution. You don't get the visions each night you sleep, you don't see the faces of your fellow men, women and children who have been left behind, or have died."

Realizing she had let slip a secret, she turned away and looked down upon the children below, her lower lip in a firm bite as she waited for the inevitable response from Michiko. Looking up slightly to the horizon, she finally spoke something else.

"Tarlachia will not be destroyed, not completely, and if you so much as have a finger in such destruction, I guarantee you you'll live to regret it. Death is not the answer here, except for those guilty of their parts in this situation." She turned and eyeballed Michiko squarely, "Tarlachia will rise again, one way or another. I would appreciate your assistance in this matter, as it would be quite useful."

Ten years had passed since the initial invasion of Tarlachia and the battle that had seen the remaining Tarlachians either die, run or end up in slave camps. The Tanaran military presence had been an unwelcome and unprediced issue yet even they could not stop the inevitable.

As promised, once the Tarlachians had been defeated by Arithon's demon horde, Abaddon himself aided the demon lord in permanently opening the gateway between Fatal Terrain and Arithon's own demonic world. Whilst the land within the region known as Arithon was already a desolate wasteland that could support no life, the energies of Arithon had established a grip upon the natural lands of Tarlachia and surrounding regions, causing plants and animals to simply fade away into history as death itself spread throughout the land.

The land of Arithon was now a fully established outpost, the borders protected by the demonic energies originating from the homeworld. Nothing could get in or out without Arithon's knowledge, keeping the gate completely safe from attack.

Once the outpost had been established it was easy for demonkind to spread throughout the region. Literally over a billion demons called a large part of northen Fatal Terrain home now, doing as they wished to the land and anything that was unfortunate enough to not have escaped the region when they had a chance.

A handful did manage to survive and found themselves kept within slave camps for the idle amusement of the demonic forces. The few Tarlachians within these camps could only watch as their very homeland was corrupted, the one vibrant environment dying under the touch of forces not from this world.

Of course this was only the beginning, alas the rest of the region was putting up a better fight than Tarlachia. Of course they would fall eventually but for now Arithon would simply be patient.

When Kazar-Tiyon had left his lair to visit Tarlachia some ten years ago, he hadn’t known exactly what he would do when he arrived. The available information had been both scarce and vague, and his primary goal had been simply to find out who was responsible for the earthquake that had done so much damage to the region, and make sure they didn’t repeat the action. As he had learned more, his plans had solidified. Maximus was gone – both the form that Kazar had first met, and his incarnation as Sigrun Greenwood. Kazar might have considered siding with his old friend’s chosen successor, but not against Lord Arithon. His alliance with the powerful demon, though not precisely firm, had been in place for a very long time, and it had been of benefit to both of them upon occasion. Besides, if the world were covered in open warfare between man and demon, that could hardly fail to help Kazar’s own plans…

At first, all had seemed to be going reasonably well. In fact, Kazar had simply sent Arithon and Abaddon a message of congratulation on their victory, given the demons a quick hand in a few battles here and there, and gone home. Djer’kaal could lead the country well enough on his own, but it was best to remind the near-immortal sorcerer that he now served another, once in a while. The demons could handle this conquest easily enough by themselves – or so Kazar assumed.

Indeed, they had managed to take over most of the Northeast without any real difficulties, but their other neighbors had fortified the border, and were successfully resisting further expansion. Even a small chunk of Tarlachian land remained out of demonic control, protected by the Tanaran military. Kazar-Tiyon could be very patient when he had reason to do so. He had remained quiet, watching the area closely, and preparing for the time when the struggle against the demons led to a weakness somewhere – some place that he could strike with strike with the Djeri soldiers, and tip the balance in favor of darkness. It had been ten years so far, and he was beginning to grow tired of waiting.

The Groombridge System
12.2 Lightyears From Sol

The hulking mass that split the liquid blackness of space moved with an eerie silence, devoid of any life. Controlled by a preprogrammed flight plan, the black, angular Northampton class modular frigate still carried an air of distinguished honor and pride. After all, she was the oldest ship in the fleet. At just a slight hair over one hundred and fifteen years old, The Amanda Muirne Ormsby, the first of the Northamptons, and the original fist of Imitoran power was slowly being pulled into a trap of sorts.

The Ormsby was the first Northampton commissioned, and had seen violence in every major war that Imitora had taken part in, and some that the beloved home land hadn't. She was there for the battles over Markov, leading the APTO forces against the traitors Soviet forces of their former ally. She was part of the massed battle fleet that engaged ACORP and GCON forces, wreaking havoc on the fools that had attempted to use weapons of mass destruction against Elara and New Empire. The Ormsby had launched the first wave of Imitoran MultiAtmospheric fighters against the state of Slave Traders in the Liberty Fighters campaign against the nations of evil. Daezmen had fallen to the guns of the Ormsby, and during the turbulent times between the King's Crown in Iansisle, and fading relations with Larkinia, she kept a valiant watch. Fultonia, Hodgeania, and Sambizie rebel forces had all seen the power an might of the Imitoran military machine with the onset of the Ormsby, and she had even engaged the forces of Melkor, and staved off an invasion of the ever deadly Sha'Ra alien forces.

In short, in her one hundred and fifteen short years (the average Northampton has a shelf life into the three to four hundred year range), The Amanda Muirne Ormsby had, to follow the old saying, 'been there, done that, and gotten the t-shirt'. And now, she was but a mere test bed for weapons systems, and would soon be, if the test went to plan, nothing. Yes, Imitora Military Command had plans for a replacement befitting the name, a ship of war in the truest sense, but that was still under construction. As near as the completion of the first Imitora class Man o' War was, Shinseki Aerospace was still under scrutiny from the IMC for their lack of promptness. They had missed five deadlines already.

But that is a different story, for now, we focus on the hulking mass of the Ormsby, sliding through the silence of space. Not to far behind her, at no more than twenty miles, was another Northampton, a newly commissioned ship, Mercy's Passion. And flanking the Passion was a single fighter, an F/A-78 Archangelsk. Like the Ormsby and her sister ships, the Archangelsk was an aging design, but also like the Northampton class Modular Stealth Frigates, it was a design that needed no improvement. While newer fighters, from both General Galaxy and Shinseki Aerospace were undergoing combat trials, the Archangelsk, a fighter that had been developed in conjunction with the Northies, as they were affectionately known by both crew and the populace in general, was here to stay.

Inside the Archangelsk was a younger pilot, one who had seen little combat, but enough to know how to handle himself: Lt. Tien "Wheels" Garrett. Wheels had been just part of a long line of combat pilots, starting far back in the late 20th century with Rays "Turbo" Garrett. It ran in the blood of the family, they were natural pilots. Tien was no different.

He was massaging the throttle, keeping the fighter at a healthy eight point two times the speed of sound. That number, however, was irrelevant, as there was no sound in space. It was just a number that meant he was pacing the Passion. In his weapon bay was the newest toy from Imitora Military Industries (IMI), a weapon that was reported to be able to take out a full size ship, yet carried by a single fighter. The ASM-229 "Hell Shot" had been undergoing testing for quite a while, and it was now in its final stage: operational testing.

"Reaver Six, this is Ghostrider. Space is empty, we got the green light, test is go. Good luck little buddy." The voice over the speaker was Mercy's Passion Weapons Information System Officer, or WISO. In the past, the WISO was the back seater on the infamous Imitoran F/A-18J Yellow Jacket II. A single man who controlled all the weapons on a fighter. Now, with the assistance of an advanced AI system, a single WISO controlled an entire star ship.

"I got you five by five Ghostrider, Reaver Six has green light." With a slight nudge, the Archangelsk leapt forward, slashing through space towards the Ormsby. It had been decided that this was a fitting death the Imitoran legend. The distance was covered quickly, and Tien's hands danced over the information panels. Well, in a way. The Archangelsk, just like the majority of combat aircraft, had HOTAS, or Hands on Throttle and Stick. Every single feature of the aircraft could be accessed, manipulated, selected, or otherwise used without the pilot's hands ever leaving the control stick and throttle. With a flick, a tap, and a click, Tien had selected the ASM, selected the target, designated the target, and let the computer take control of all the firing operations. All he had to do now was press a button. A tone sounded in his ear.

And he did.

The computer set the target into the missile’s guidance system, opened a weapon bay door, launched the ASM, and closed the weapon door all in under a heartbeat, all with the tap of a single red button. Then, with a flick of the stick, and a punch into the throttle, Tien flipped the fighter, rolled over, and then flipped again, pulling away from the Ormsby.

A number of satellites began focusing on the Ormsby and the Hell shot, and began transmitting data back to a planet side monitoring station. Inside the station, a blizzard of activity swarmed around countless computer screens and keyboards, watching the entire test play out.

"Missile launch is good."
"It's approaching the PDS."
"PDS was breached successfully."
"Emergency systems kicking in."
"Shit, no, wait. Yeah, ok it got past the anti missile system!"
"Three till impact. Two. One. Impact!"

All eyes jumped to the main screen as they watched the missile slam straight into the flank of the Ormsby, port side, just below the divider mark. There was a small shudder as the ship's hull was breached by the main explosive charge. It held for a second, nothing visibly happening. There was nothing onboard the Ormsby to be sucked out by the vacuum, however, had there been anything inside the ship, it would have been sucked out by the lack of pressure.

"Nothing's happening?"
"Yeah, yeah there is. All systems are shutting down, it’s trying to route all power to life support."
"I'm getting reports of massive bulkhead breaching, it’s punching into the middle of the ship."
"All computer systems on board are down, no power to anything."
"Is that all..."

Before the voice could finish with 'happens', the center most section of the Ormsby[i] shuddered violently, then disappeared. The AMS's plasma war head, the third of three warheads on the missile, had detonated, engulfing the ship in what many would consider a pure star. Weapons on the Ormsby mostly surplus designed to see how they would react to said explosion, began detonating, and the video screen showed the blasts clearly as the first fist of the Imitoran military disappeared into space.

"Test is successful. She's gone!"

The station broke out into applause.
+
[I]Northampton, Imitora
Sol System

"Well, what's the news?" The question belonged to the new President of Imitora, recently elected, and just now finding out about the situation in Tarlachia. Too many, it was old news, damn near ten years old, and the previous military junta had held its old fashioned idea of isolationism from the conflict. Now, Tarlachia had been torn apart, taken by an enemy from behind our plane, and Tanaran forces barely held onto soft spots. It was, in the old military term, a cluster fuck.

"Well, sir, IMC out in Groombridge just tested the new AMS. Full destruction. Total success. Following that, we believe now that it should only be a few short weeks till the MW01 First Speaker Amanda Muirne Ormsby, our first true Man o' War will be complete."

"Good, what else?"

"Well, we need your decision on the new fighter, as well."

"New fighter? What’s wrong with the Archangelsk? Never did me wrong." The new President, David F. Mitchell, had been an ISN Pilot, and he had flown the Archangelsk.

"Nothing, Mr. President. It’s just that, well, we need something new as most of the airframes are aging. Orders to Shinseki for the Archangelsk are dropping, it might help if they had another frame to sell."

"Fine, I'll look at the data later. Now, I wanna know the real news."

"Well, sir, it’s not exactly good. We stayed out for ten years, so we really don't have any presence in the theater. Plus, these demons or whatever the hell they are have done a pretty good job locking into place. Nothing that we are just going to coerce out of place. Satellite over flights aren't showing anything, and the Tanarans are having enough problems to old their own footing. It's contained, but not good. My advice sir?"

"That is why I hired you."

"We monitor the situation with a few ships, put something in geosync. A Northy, perhaps, or a few Halcyons[i]? We have a small contingent of the 185th or 918th ready to move when we say, plus a QRF from either the 18th or 12th Infantry. An armor devisor ready as well. Maybe, a few of them?"

"Them?" It wasn't as much a question of who they were, but more of were they needed.

"Yes sir, I think one or two of the Arbiter units would be prudent. Hell, two platoons quelled the uprising at the Juno Reactor on Pariz, 40 against 500 with no losses. That’s some good PR right there. I mean, I don't know if anyone would oppose sending one or two Arbitor units in."

"I agree. They are nasty bastards, not exactly the best side of war, but they are successful at what they do."

"Good call sir. I'll get on that right away."

"Ok, now, what’s the status on the Marathon project..."
+
[i]Fall of Athens
Halcyon class Battle Cruiser
First Speaker Stephanie WaitkusBattle Group
Earth Geosynchronous Orbit

Sitting just over thirty miles over the central mass of the Fatal Terrain region, the Fall of Athens sat tucked in with its escort of two Hobart class destroyers. Part of a battle group of thirty eight ships, the Fall of Athens was no normal Halcyon class. It was a Block IV SpecFor Mod. 2 designed for the rapid transport of Imitora Special Operations units, including the elite armored infantry of the Fighting 69th, the men and women of the 185th (said one hundred and eighty fifth) and 918th (said nine eighteenth) Special Operations Units, and others, including the famed Arbitors.

The difference between a standard Halcyon and a SpecFor Halcyon was, externally, unnoticeable. However, inside, the rec rooms and small shopping centers designed to keep soldiers happy and forget about the distance from home were replaced with hollodecs that allowed the operatives to continue training. Firing ranges allowed the operators to keep accuracy in check, and weapon smiths assisted keeping weapons in shape, and making modifications to any weapons that came in. An entire section that would be dedicated to combat aircraft maintenance had been removed, and swapped out with a full electronic suit that included jamers, interceptors, communicators, and the like. A maintenance bay was present for drop ships and the room needed for the mechs of the 69th.

In all, it was a ship with one purpose: War.

As were all ships in the battle group, thirty eight of Imitora’s finest craft of war. Northamptons, Halcyons, Hobarts, and Empire class ships, all with their own mission, style of operation, but ability to work together in order to bring the fires of hell and heaven down on an enemy.

But the key to this specific group was the Fall of Athens. She had been on training missions in Groombridge, conducting ship to ship assault operations, when the call came in for her to join the Waitkus battle group. Her specialties were required, and within minutes, all operatives had been recalled, and the jump made. It took fifty minutes for the fold to Sol, and then three days for the slow journey to Earth space. It was the men and women of the 918th that were desired, one of the two Imitoran Special Operations units. Trained and set to operate deep behind enemy lines, they would use guerilla tactics to gain information, disrupt enemy operations, and cause dissent among the non combatants of the area.

If they couldn’t get the job done, and if the Arbitors couldn’t make a major change, then the Imitoran Military would authorize the full scale assault on Arithonian held territory.

Somewhere within the wasteland once known as Tarlachia

What had once been a vast forest was now nothing more than a lumber graveyard, the trees devoid of leaves and twisted in a manner as if they had been tortured to death, their distorted forms frozen in place in order to convey the agony they experienced.

Arithon and Nez'gah stood before the once proud forest, noting the thorough job their demonic energies had done to the land itself. Nothing would grow there anymore, the very earth itself was dead in this patch of land.

"They will come."

Arithon nodded, he was well aware of that.

"Of course they will. They will come with their machines and weapons of destruction for they are a weak people, lacking of any respectable natural aptitude."

"Despite their weakness, their weapons could very well destroy our forces."

"It is entirely possible that we are driven from Tarlachia, but that does not worry me significantly. We have what we wanted. The outpost is established and none of their weapons can pass the barrier. We've waited this long, we can wait longer than anyone else."

Nez'gah disliked waiting, patience was something he'd never had and was unlikely to gain in the future.

"It is most tedious."

"Oh, don't you worry. We have more important goals than keeping Tarlachia. There are many ways to declare war on people, many of which are so subtle you wouldn't know it's happening until you lay in ruins."

"As for now?"

"For now we shall continue to currupt this land. If they do win it back, it will be at a cost far greater than they could have expected."

With that said Arithon simply faded away into nothingness, leaving Nez'gah to ponder the words of his master. It was impossible for the younger demon to gauge what happened within Arithon's twisted mind, yet he could count on it being enjoyable once it came into fruition.

Destruction is but only a byproduct of the forces of evil. It is merely a single element amongst others in the ultimate dominion of the darkness of evil. The world runs on a circle of life and death, for none are truly immortal. Death comes to all beings in due time. However, there lies one issue that stands outside the mortal bindings of the world.

What of the true immortals whom death itself fears? What do they have to fear if death is but only a faint whisper?

And therein lies the answer. Earth-bound sentients govern the lives of those like them. Such is also the way of beings not of this world. I wonder, of whom do I belong? mused the elven woman as she sat in her chair, deep in thought.

“Lady Aeris. Destination: Earth, has been reached. We are in stable orbit now over Tarlachia.”

“Thank you.” Aeris replied, “Open bay windows.” The near silent sliding of the protective hull windows shields brought the shining world into focus. Even from space, and even through the light cloud cover, she could see that darkness covered the lands of Fatal Terrain. Tarlachia, once lush with greenery now lay in desolate ruin, and Arithon a dark red fire reflecting through the great realm-gate of Hell blazed brightly into the mortal world. Demons and dark allies now occupied much of the northwest she knew, yet they were stemmed in their conquest by the valiant forces of those that dared oppose them.

It’s time. she thought. It’s time to put an end to this. Abaddon shall be destroyed or shoved into the netherworld by force, so help me.

“Shado.” She called to the ship’s AI, “Gather my commanders in the briefing room.”

******************************

Briefing Room

Within the room, a dozen commanders sat and discussed the war at hand. Some wrote brief notes on their holoscreens, others were animated over various topics, ranging from air strikes to stealth missions. A beeping noise alerted them to the arrival of Aeris, spurring them to rise to their feet in respect. In she strode, her cool gaze meeting each and nodding. After a moment, they sat down with their eyes on her.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” She began, waving a hand off to the side, instantly dimming the lights and turning on a holoscreen next to her. A topology map of Fatal Terrain blinked into sight and held stationary. “You know the situation down below, so I’ll spare you the details on that part. I’m here to get answers now. It has been ten years since that ill-fated day, and now it is past due that Abaddon and Arithon get their due and proper. Tell me what we’ve amassed now.”

“My lady,” began General Miguel Fuego, “We can order several hundred airstrikes from orbit per hour. We also have warcraft capable of interatmospheric travel, capable of precise bombings and ARC-M attacks.”

She nodded, focusing on the next person, General Teresa Bold. Bold took the cue and cleared her throat before speaking, “While airstrikes and such may be useful, we have to keep in mind the potential of the demon magic capabilities. Undoubtedly, and confirmed by spies within enemy territory, there are numerous anti-air defenses over all of the Dark Empire. So numerous are they, and so well reinforced that they will survive anything we can possible throw at them from long range or even short range, short of total planetary destruction.

“Not an option, obviously.” Aeris muttered, her mind refreshing the occasional conversations with Michiko about her lack of caring of the fate of the world. Even to this day, Michiko seemed resolute to that attitude. “What about sabotage? Can we do it?”

Bold shook her head negatively, “No, as many anti-airs they have, a hundred thousand times the infantry personnel they have per site. Only a fool would try such an attempt.” A first lieutenant came into the room quietly, handing an item to one of the Admirals.

Aeris sighed slightly. “Come on people…we need something, anything we can get to turn the tide of this war to our favor.”

“My lady.” Admiral Rico Suarez interjected with his hand holding up a piece of paper, “We’ve gotten recent word that Imitoran intergalactic ships, Northampton class, have recently come into a few clicks of our present location. It has been confirmed that they have a detachment of elite military troops ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“Elite soldiers?” Aeris scoffed, “No offense to them, but perhaps they’ve not seen what happened to our own elite soldiers, outmaneuvered, outperformed, and utterly murdered by Carrick—Abaddon and his minions. And those soldiers were amongst the best in the region as well. Nevertheless, at this point, I’m ready to try anything that may perhaps usurp the bastard from power.” She leaned back and looked at her subordinates. Each nodded their agreement.

“There’s one other problem, however.” Aeris continued. She pushed a holographic button in front of her, switching the image into view. “The child of Abaddon and his consort, Lillit.” A moment passed before she spoke again, “Demons don’t follow the worldly rate of growth, and their offspring are even more unpredictable. You all know of my background, of the races I am. Demons fraternizing in similar manners will produce similar powerful offspring.”

“So, we abduct the child, simple as that. Put a few multipurpose freeze spell on the kid and he or she won’t be able to do anything to escape.” An officer with elven traits spoke up.

Aeris’s scoff resonated clearly. “They are demons. They are accustomed to assassination attempts, kidnapping attempts, deception, disguises, and more. As a result, they are just as capable of spotting others who are employing such techniques with considerable ease. It’s why we’ve recently developed the KNIFE systems.” She looked around at them.

No response was returned. Aeris rose to her feet, “Very well then, let’s give the Imitorans all the help they can get. Get our stealth units ready, and I want each of the elite soldiers of Imitora equipped with one of our KNIFE stealth units. I’m sure they’ve got their own version of stealth units, but I guarantee they don’t have anything that can bypass demonic scanners as well as these.”

She keyed another holographic button, watching as a face came into view. “Hans Balran, ladies and gentlemen, whom I’m sure you remember as being a POW and experiment victim of a foreign war.” They all nodded to Hans, whom returned the favor. “Hans experience with advanced stealth units has helped us develop something of our own variant.” A panel slid out from the wall, revealing one of the KNIFE units. It was a head-gear unit, powerful enough to completely engulf the wearer, and capable of shifting the wearer into a parallel universe for as long as the unit was activated, for up to 48 hours. In such a universe, they could bypass the earthly plane and any safeguards established there. Next to the unit, a holographic screen detailed the unit’s capabilities.

“We’ve got enough to outfit all of the Imitorans and some for our troops afterwards. More are being produced each day.” She stated. “Preliminary tests have shown these units 100% effective against known demonic shields and defenses, even the powerful ones. Unfortunately, we’ve yet to test them against demon-lord levels of arcane abilities. It is the one wild-card that could swing either way.”

Rising to her feet, Aeris looked at her subordinates once more, “This time around, we’re more prepared to deal with this old threat of the ancient world. It’s time we put him and his cohorts back where they belong. Let’s go. This mission is to be top-secret, code-named Phoenix Rising. If any word of this gets beyond our allies, heads will roll.” She glared intensely at each of them, as if daring them to disobey her. “Send word to the Imitorans that I’d like to speak to their commanding officer or whomever is in charge as soon as possible.”

With that, she turned and departed the briefing room, leaving the subordinates to their thoughts before they snapped into action.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades."
The Revelation of St. John the Divine 11:7-8

The inscription could barely be seen in the darkness, carved deep into metal support beam over the door to CB-117 by a laser durring construction of the ship. The fall of Athens had seven rooms just like this, each one quiet, cold, and sterile. There was no savers of life in this room, only bringers of death. Fifty men, in sleep state tubes set in two rows of twenty five. Fifty men per room, seven rooms. Three hundred and fifty men that could, and would, kill anything and everything that moved. Arbitors.

Lights clicked on, the door sliding open, and two men, dressed in usual military high end officer fashion, walked down the hallway, their high polished shoes clicking on the tile floor. The strode with purpose between the two rows, observing the men, if they were even men anymore, in their induced sleep. The two glanced to the left or right only so often, they had worked with Arbitors for numerous years, yet neither could ever get used to this process, observing the soldiers in their sleep. It was discomforting, the thought that the men were only in an induced coma. The didn't dream, they didn't think, they didn't observe or wonder. They didn't know what was going on, about the situation in Tarlachia or anywhere for that matter. They were more machine than man. Of course, one operative from the 918th SOU, before undergoing the genetic changes in his quest to become an Arbitor, had described them as "More Human than Human." He was the first, and only, person to be accepted into the program after the age of six.

"There they are. Its creepy," the one with less medals said. He was FlAdm. (Fleet Admiral) Thomas Clagget, the commanding officer of The Fall of Athens. The other one, a three star Fleet Admiral, Thomas Dodge, was soon to be the commanding officer of the newest ship in the Imitoran military, the First Speaker Amanda Muirne Ormsby II. He was in his last assignment as not a ship CO, but a Force Commanding Officer. He was CMFTARL, or Commander Military Forces, Tarlachia. This was his operation, and he would see that the Tarlachians got their land back, or that the earth was destroyed in revenge. Eight of the seventeen planets in the Groombridge System were habitable, as were the numerous moons. The Tarlachians could have their own planet if total global destruction was of the order.

"I know," Dodge said, quietly. He walked his eyes through the room, observing the warriors. The two men were as different as night and day. Clagget had been a ground pounder, well, sort of. He had been in the Marines, but as a ship to ship specialist, boarding other ships in combat ops. Had he been selected at a young enough age, many assumed he too would be part of this program, asleep in one of the tanks. Clagget had no ambition to reach this stage, he joined as part of his civic duty. He had no idea he would have made it this far.

Dodge, on the other hand, was a lifer. From a young age, he had wanted to fly the fighters. However, a scar on his retina durring a school yard brawl took that dream from him, and when he was accepted into the Naval Academy, he had found the joys of flying the big ships. He worked his way up quickly, first commanding a small escort frigate, up to a full size Northampton, then a number of battle groups. "Wake them," he said quietly, the turned on his heel, walking out from the room.

Clagget nodded, and went about to waking the warriors.
+
Dodge walked with a strong stride to the bridge of Athens. The personel on the ship parted for him, making way for the high rank officer. He was moving straight to the comm room, he wanted to get in touch with the Tarlachians. He reached the door way, punched a key code, and it slid open. He entered the blacked out room, waving off the surge of salutes and standing low rank officers, and glanced around at the screens of data. Mass sensors had identified around twenty ships, picking out their location in space.

"Which one is ours?" Dodge asked, watching the on screen images change. A captian worked the computer, selecting a single ship, and enhancing its computer generated image.

"This one sir, its the one we have most contact with at this point," the captain said, bringing up a list of frequencies and contact info. His hands moved over the virtual keyboard quickly and easily, selecting the most succesful contact, and opening a laser data trace. A few more strokes, and Athens began broadcasting an secure hailing signal. "We've been communicating a bit over the past few days, FlAdm. Clagget had been cordinating movements with them, making sure we don't bounce into each other."

Dodge nodded. "Who am I talking to?"

"Uh, let me see." A few more movements of hand, and the ship transcripts came up. A click and the captain was glancing fast through the list of names. "Lady Aeris, sir. And we are ready to broadcast."

"Good job captian." Dodge moved over to the broadcast terminal, and opened the communication transmitter. It was a general hailing call, not a communication, so he wasn't worried about getting a response. It was, in space, the equivalent of leaving a voice mail. When the green light clicked on, indicating a clean and clear signal over the laser data transfer beam, he began talking.

"Lady Aeris, this is Fleet Admiral Thomas Dodge, Imitora Navy, and CMFTARL. My staff has told me that you have had a small amount of contact with FlAdm. Clagget, most manuvering coordinates. I know that we are, well, a touch late to the fight, but we're here for the long haul now. If possible, I'd like to get a meeting with you for an update on the SITREP. Just go ahead and contact us back on this line with a time and place. I look forward to meeting you."

Dodge clicked the close option, shutting down the open broadcast, standard hailing manuvers. That would keep any less savory characters from tracing an open line into the Imitoran ship. However, it would still remain open to recieving transmissions.

"Mother" The voice was deeply resonant with the passion he was feeling "We want to be a part of Phoenix Rising You know if they go in without us as part of the team, they are going to get slaughtered, KNIFE units or no, Imitoran special forces - the 22nd, 918th, or the 105th combined or no." The speaker's face was calm though, despite his eagerness to convince his mother. Adoni was the most out spoken of the group and generally acted as their leader.

"Yes mother, our abilities will be of great use to them" Lillith, her senior most of her daughters, added. "You can't keep us swaddled up forever"

"Oh I can't can I?" Perigrine Omega chuckled as she looked over her sons and daughters, her pride in them carefully hidden.

They were scarely nine years old, though they were, to all outward appearances, full adults in stature and abilities. Ten years ago when Lillit had fallen into her hands severly injured she taken tissue samples. Using the genetics of the demoness and the fetus she had carried, Perigrine had crossed them with her own Neitzschean genes to create offspring superior to even herself. She had kept their existance carefully hidden. Abbadon and his allies had no knowledge of their existance. Even few with in the Alliance knew of them.

"I will speak with Aeris on your behalf." Pergrine replied after a long moment of reflection.

Ten years had passed and the region of Fatal Terrain stood on the brink of complete destruction from demon hordes. Shortly after the fall of Tarlachia, the nation of the Golden Simatar took in many refugees and immediately mobilized its military and the military’s budget jumped considerably and there were many volunteers for the military as fear of a demon attack on the Golden Simatar prompted many civilians to get ready to defend their homeland.

The first place that the military was sent was to the far west of the Golden Simatar where it bordered Tarlachia. Several Virginia SSN Class submarines along with the 3rd Fleet were dispatched to Fatal Terrain’s inland sea to guard against any possible attack from the water by the demons. Meanwhile, the remainder of the Golden Simatar Navy was posted off Tarlachia’s old waters or were ready for rotation back in port. In The Militarized Zone, Army Group B and Army Group C along with the 41st and 87th Marine Divisions kept a constant guard on its stretch of the border with Tarlachia. Army Group A along with the other four Marine Divisions were posted far to the west where Tarlachia and the Golden Simatar touched. Even still…

“Ten fucking years.” The woman muttered. Captain Lorrie Russo sat on top of her Leopard 2E, a modified version of the 2A6 with greater armor protection, and slowly ate her MRE. She was thirty years old, stood five ten with a head of what used to be bright red hair, now buzzed down to only a few millimeters. Her brown eyes stared out across the vast wasteland of what used to be Tarlachia, there were no trees as far as she could see, only dead grass. She had always wanted to go to Tarlachia, but now who would want to? The place was crawling with demons, but since her time here…she hadn’t seen one.

Russo was part of the vaunted 132nd Armored Division, who had won fame just over a decade before in the Battle of Clarence against invading vampires. She had been there, remembering the uncomfortable position she felt of maneuvering her tank through the city. Currently the 132nd was with Army Group C stationed in the TMZ, cities weren’t tank country, but here…here was land she liked. Then again, maneuvering through the Simatarian defenses would be difficult.

Since the first Simatarian unit had taken up position, the defenses had grown thicker and more dangerous for an attacker. Directly in front of her was nearly a mile thick layer of razor wire, landmines from toe poppers to anti-tank, motion and heat sensitive mini-Vulcan guns, dragon’s teeth, trenches that seemed to offer safety but were booby with mines and false bottoms so that the unfortunate soul plummets down to spikes waiting for them.

Every inch of the Simatarian line was also marked. Light mortars, heavy mortars, howitzers, self propelled guns, and MLRS…any unit in need of artillery could bring down fire from hundreds of every conceivable caliber from 60mm to the gigantic 203mm. Units closer to the water could also bring down fire from destroyers and cruisers posted offshore.

The defense line bristled with weapons. More the mini-Vulcan guns, rocket launchers, missile launchers, rapid fire grenade launchers, machine guns, and hundreds of thousands of Heckler and Koch G36 assault rifles in the hands of the soldiers. The line itself which was a complex line of trenches, earth works with concrete, and small forts did not go in a straight line but instead had multiple bumps in it to give the defenders a better chance at defense with multiple interlocking fire areas and fire zones. Once pinned down in a fire zone, the enemy unit would most likely be destroyed.

Then us. Russo thought. She looked at her company of forty two Leopard 2Es, she had taken over command two years ago and she didn’t mind. Sitting only a few meters back from the main line were the tanks and APCs. Instead of sitting out in the open, the vehicles had their own pits where they could easily back up or if need drive forward out of but while inside, only the turrets were visible. Their job would be to provide more direct fire for the infantry fighting in front of them in their fortifications. But the tankers would prefer to do battle with other tanks, but they knew the days of Prokhorovka were long since over.

“Coffee cap?” A cheery voice said from behind her. She turned to see a young corporal holding two mugs of coffee. She smiled and took one as he climbed onto the tank and sat next to her. Peter Basham was her driver, one of the best in the whole division in her opinion and if it wasn’t for this mess she knew he would love to prove it. She sipped the coffee, for once it was excellent. She didn’t bother asking where he had gotten it from, he also was the scrounger for her company, “procuring” supplies from the rear echelon that they usually didn’t get up at the front. Despite the fact there was no battle, it was the way the army worked.

There was a low drone and both turned their heads skyward to see a thin contrail before it disappeared into the clouds. Up above, the Air Force always kept UAVs at the ready along with B2 and B52 bombers, ready to deliver their payloads down below. A-10 Thunderbolts, RAH-66 Comanche’s, C-130 Specter Gunships and C-130 transports each armed with a single MOAB were the stationed closer to the ground for more direct support. Though the MOAB carrying C-130s were always last resort.

“Another long day cap.” Basham said as he drank the coffee had had “procured” from General Hakha’s HQ, Hakha was the commander of the 132nd and well liked, but everyone knew there were many dicks in his HQ sadly who took great pleasure in behind in the rear. And the MPs always seemed to have a blank memory on how their breath smelled of gourmet coffee shortly after some goes missing.

“Yeah, no demons…no action. But we’re ready if they decide to come.” She said as she drank some more. “Thank God for R&R or I would go insane.”

“Agreed. Do you think we’ll go in after them if word is given from whoever is in charge of what remains of Tarlachia?”

“No doubt.” Despite the thickness of defense, there were several areas were several tanks could pass next to each other if an offensive was called for. Those places were probably the most heavily defended and were always covered by aircraft.

She looked up into the bright blue sky. “At least the weather is nice.”


Meanwhile, several thousand miles away in the Golden Simatar, about thirty miles out of the capital of Clarence sat a horse farm called Golden Stables. It was profitable, well know for its superb stallions and the owner’s kindness in letting classes from local elementary schools come out so they can have picnics out on the vast grassy areas of the farm. Though, there was always one complaint that some of the more snobby folks had. There were three dilapidated barns on the farm, but the owners always kept them there despite even one man offering to give them another half a million if they tear them down. All were rejected.

The pure and simple reason for this was simple, it was all a ruse. The three barns, though they looked horrible from the outside, were another world inside. One was a complete workout center equipped with a small pool, target range on the upper floor, and several benches with weights and machines. Another was like a small mansion inside furnished with high quality, polished hardwood. And the last was like going to Antarctica.

Inside the last barn, a teenager sat on the edge of a snow mound and looked down at the large dragon sitting on the floor. Amara Malone, the young lycanthrope adopted by the Golden Simatar’s only vampires sat on the snow and chatted with Darius. The dragon had left his clan shortly after they were safely taken to Tanaara. They had pleaded with him to stay and lead them, but Darius’s priorities rested with his mate Cassandra back in the Golden Simatar. He tried to get them to come back with him where the land was still virgin, but they had refused and thankfully most understood his reasoning. He was still depressed about the loss of his siblings as well as almost all of his clan. But, he was still proud of his offspring and glad for the support from Cassandra, the vampires, as well as Amara.

Darius shook his head, Tolkien…the runt of the first group of pups, who had never gotten larger than a miniature pinscher in size and possibly in mind had been laying on his father’s snout for some time. The little dragon fluttered upwards and then sat down on the top of his father’s head. Darius looked at Amara as she chuckled. “I will never understand how he stayed so small.”

“Ditto…but I don’t mind. He is a good friend and if he misbehaves I can cart him around like a football.” Amara said. Cassandra was currently outside getting rid of the remains of breakfast.

“How are your parents?” Darius asked.

“Both are taking it all hard. Especially dad, he had many friends in Tarlachia and most are dead. Life hasn’t gotten any easier…if anything harder. Some folks believe that he is still alive and if he is in the Golden Simatar he is working as an agent for the demons.”

Darius snorted angrily. “Damn humans, they are so thickheaded and closed minded. I doubt they would let my kind stay here if they found out about us.”

“Well, you never know. Dragons are cute and you would just have to worry about poachers or rich folks wanting a pet.”

Darius nodded. “Well…yes there is that. But this land is so open we can hide out and they will never find us. Tell me…where are your parents now?”

“Sleeping. Mom says that the President wants to see them to get their word on what is going on and if they have heard anything in the immortal world.” Amara said. The last ten years had been rough on her vampiric parents. Both had been plowing around the Golden Simatar, Assington, and every place that might have any even the slightest clue to what was going on in Tarlachia. But, they had come up empty handed every time. What was done in Tarlachia, stayed in Tarlachia.

“Anyway, I am gonna hit the sack. Human kinda makes me sleepy.” She said with a yawn. Coming with her change into werewolf, came the taste for human flesh and every full moon a death row inmate being transported through the forests and “escape” so that she could hunt them and fulfill that need.

“Alright. Take the little shit with you.” Cassandra said as she walked into the barn. She was smaller than her mate, only about the size of a horse and with snow white scales. Tolkien started a long, incoherent babble in draconic as he heard what his mother said, even in a playful tone.

“Come on boy…I’ll get you some chicken.” Amara said with her arms out. Reluctantly, Tolkien departed his father’s head and went to Amara’s arms. Cradling the dragon, she departed the barn through an underground passage that lead back to the barn house.

With Amara gone, the two dragons looked at each other for a while before shutting the door and curling up in their nest next to each other and falling asleep.

In the vast grassy lands of Golden Stables

A rumbling roar, mechanical in nature and totally unlike the sounds that usually permeated the idyllic horse farm, vibrated through the grassy lands, an alien intrusion into the natural setting of the land. Gradually, it grew louder and more intense, as the source of it came closer and closer to the three dilapidated barns that the owner of the horse stables had insisted to retain, for some reason despite all the offers he had been made to tear them down.

In the distance approached the source of the disturbance; a huge, sleek bike of unknown manufacture, looking like some sort of strange hybrid between Harley-Davidson and Yamaha, as if the soul and heart of the Harley had been built into the general shape of the Japanese racebike, as well as being equipped with the explosive power of the latter, and fitted with glossy black armor plating that gave it its sleek, muscular look. All in all, it was a strange-looking, but handsome machine, something that looked almost as if its design could never be replicated in any factory in the world. And on the bike was a rider clad in black pants and a red trenchcoat, his silvery hair flying in the wind as he sped towards the barns.

For the past decade, the Nameless Rider, as the remaining rebels of the Tarlachian freedom movement had so termed him, had busied himself with conductin impromptu, surprise attacks on the occupying Arithonian forces, making quite a name for himself as he slew hordes of the demons wherever he appeared. Pinpricks they may have seemed to Arithon himself, yet his efforts have saved the Tarlachian rebels from certain doom many times in the past, and he has since been hailed as an inspiration to them, despite his propensity to go at it alone. Only a select few of the rebels knew his true identity, and thus the mystery about him was preserved with the legends of his exploits, an unseen angel of vengeance descending to assist the freedom fighters at their time of greatest need, unbidden and unlooked for most of the time. His every movement left rumors in his wake; that he most definitely can't be human, otherwise he could't do the things he did; he is a messenger from above, sent to Earth to combat the evil that has spread across the land; no, he actually came from down below, a dark being with his own personal score to settle with the leader of the demons who have occupied the land; and the most outlandish claim, that he is somehow connected to the last surviving member of the overthrown royal family, the Princess-in-Exile, the Lady Aeris herself! How strange, how wonderful! Who is this man with the silver hair, who rode a bike that somehow concealed all manner of weaponry within its armor platings, who always seemed to have whatever weapon he needed, when he needed it, whose combat ability seemed without parallel amongst the freedom fighters of the land?

Of course, even a legend needed a break sometimes. And after a decade, it was as good a time as any.

The bike and his rider crested a hill, gaining a small amount of airtime before landing on the ground, reaching the wide-open space that the three dilapidated barns overlooked. The silver-haired biker brought the armored bike to a stop; kicking the stand, he dismounted, and leaned against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. Trees and grasses everywhere, but no sign of any other life.

"Well, damned. Hondur said the kid's somewhere around here", he murmured. It was clearly that, despite everything he had ever been said to have done, the legendary Nameless Rider was hopelessly, pathetically.............lost.

"Oh, well", the biker shrugged, pulling out a fag. Lighting it, he inhaled deeply of the tobacco, and raised his eyes upwards as he exhaled the aromatic smoke, letting the sun shine on his face. It was good to be able to relax like this, even for a little while, to have the sun on his face. Goodness knows he had had little enough of such simple pleasures back in Tarlachia.

“Rodney? Rodney are you there?”

Rodney Greenwich removed a small, black walkie talkie from his utility belt and brought it up to his mouth as he leaned against a pitchfork. “Lunch ready yet Ashley?”

“No its not you moron. We got an intruder…came through the woods about Sector G-4. He is on one hell of a motorbike and is near the barns.” The slightly irritated and surprised voice of Ashley Mercer came over the walkie talkie.

Greenwich promptly left the stable where he was putting in fresh hay for the black mare and shelved the pitchfork. At thirty-two, he stood at five eleven with short brown hair and sharp brown eyes. He had obvious muscles under his blue overalls and plaid shirt. He ran over to a rusted metal locker and quickly hung up his belt spare for the walkie talkie but clipped it to his overalls and attached a headset to it.

He opened a small laptop on the work station table and brought up an image of a man smoking a cigarette next to a motorcycle like none he had ever seen. “Okay, we got photographs being taken?”

“Course we do. I got the guns up and running and they have him sighted so make sure your marker is ready in case this fella tries anything. Remember we’re just the owners of this place and not…”

“Yeah I know. Get the M82 and get ready to put a slug into that bike in case he tries to run.”

“Way ahead of you.”

Greenwich and Mercer were both Special Agents in the VIB and both had been trained by not only Black Operation soldiers for combat but also by Stephen and Nicole on how to battle vampires and such. They both took their jobs very seriously as they were the only humans outside of the President, Joint Chiefs of Staff and the heads of the VIB and IBI to know of the Malone’s in the Golden Simatar. Their cover was that of a married couple and they were also chosen as they both had extensive experience with horses.

Intruders were something they never experienced. Golden Stables was ringed by forests and the forests were lined with sensors and hidden sentry guns. There was also a lake in the middle of the property within sight of the barns and inside the grasses and reeds were several more guns. Security cameras were hidden on every building and were right now recording everything the strange rider was doing.

Greenwich went over to another locker and removed the lock. Inside were two Heckler and Koch G36C assault carbines, a Ruger Mini M14 with collapsible metal stock, a Franchi SPAS-12, and two Para P-12 semi-compact handguns as well as magazines for all of them. He grabbed the Mini M14 as well as three thirty round magazines and a P-12 with another two magazines. He slid the P-12 and pistol magazines into his overalls were it would be hidden and took the rifle and magazines and left the stable building.

Greenwich moved to an ATV sitting outside and detached the wagon carrying various tools and such before mounting the vehicle, placing the M-14 on his lap and the magazines in a small storage case he had put on the side. As he moved towards where the rider was, he knew that Mercer had already slipped out of the house and into the woods with a phone to call VIB HQ and the M82 .50 rifle with armor piercing slugs. The man would have quite a surprise if he tried to ride off.

He quickly crested a small rise and found the biker below him, Greenwich put one a small smile and a wave before pulling to a stop a few meters from the man. His right hand rested on the visible M14 and his left on the handle bar of the ATV.

“I’m sure you know that you are trespassing on private property. I’m gonna ask you to mount that beast and get off my farm. So…on the beast and off my farm.”


Inside, Amara had woken up as soon as she heard her parents moving about, Tolkien woke soon after her and started to bark. The barn was sound proof so no one on the outside could hear the tiny dragon. Climbing out of bed, she went into the hallway and she went to the circular steps and went down a few before sitting down. Stephen and Nicole were busying themselves over a computer, a pair of UMP machine pistols sat nearby.

“What’s going on?”

Nicole looked back and smiled. “There is just someone on the premises. The VIB is taking care of it. Its still daylight outside too, so we really can’t do anything unless he somehow breaks into here.”

“Alright mom.” Amara got up off the stairs and went back to her bedroom where Tolkien had calmed down and was now curled up in her blankets. If he gets in here…

Amara went to her closet and rummage around for a little bit before pulling out a strange weapon. It was a Remington 11-87 automatic shotgun, but with two strange attachments. With a lot of spare time being an immortal teenager with no real friends, she had attached a EX-41 grenade launcher to the underside of the shotgun, minus the buttsock of course and for no reason, the head of a small pitchfork.

“My 12 gauge fork o’ doom.”

Amara had never fired the grenade launcher, in reality she was afraid to. Then again it seemed more plausible then her fear of vampires. The whole thing was more or less something she did to kill time or just make herself look scary. She loaded the shotgun as well as the grenade launcher. She left her room and slipped downstairs past her parents, who were still hovering over the computer and through a doorway which led to underground tunnels that connected all three of the barns. She sprinted to the one where Darius and Cassandra where and up the stairs and inside. Both dragons had quieted their brood, the six pups were now about the size of a pony and looked anxious. The barn was sound proof also so in case there had been any noise it wasn’t heard.

Amara sat down on a large mound of snow and looked at the closed doors, wondering what was happening on the other side.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" Abaddon questioned Lillit whom stood by his side, her arm linked around his waist and her tail around his closest leg. The two of them stood on the eastern wall of the rebuilt remains of Turath. Instead of the late gothic/early Renaissance style castle that had been destroyed, a charcoal black fortress stood in its place. It's stones and metals were of an otherwordly origin, specifically of hell, forged in deep fire and dark magics. From the gates to the highest pinnacle, the fortress was immense, twice the size of the former castle, and entirely surrounded by dark clouds that obscured the landscape of the entire city. They rose to the skies, and they hid the countless energy runes that were carved into every stone and every open surface of the fortress. So long had the demons occupied this capital that even the nearby buildings had been reinforced by the crafts of dark magic.

"Yes." she replied at last as she surveyed the desolate and blackened landscape that still failed to yield greenery since the first days of the war, "Beautiful." She turned her eyes to him, slinking around his form as she moved in front of him, "They'll launch a large counterattack soon, they have to. It's been ten years since the last great offensive. Since then, they've sent numerous smaller attacks, all beaten back. It's only a matter of time before they are able to return in great numbers."

Abaddon nodded slightly, "Perhaps so, but while they have been preparing, so have we." He turned his head away as a fiery portal opened up several hundred yards away and out came a host of demons returning from the borders. One of them came toward Abaddon, a scout captain.

"What news from the front?" Abaddon questioned as the demon knelt to a single knee.

"The filth are trying to break through again. It appears they're amassing more forces on the western and eastern borders. I've gotten reports that the Tarlachians in our sphere are still holding off our oppressive movements, however their efforts are dying. It won't be long until we can destroy them too like the other four resistance settlements."

"What about the Rider?" Abaddon asked, "Has he continued to attack our forces?"

"Not of late, however reports have come through that he's slipped through the buffer zone toward Golden Simatar." the captain replied.

"Very well then, destroy and kill the last of the entrenched resistance. I want it done by the end of the week." Abaddon commanded, before turning away. The scout replied his consent and disappeared quickly from sight.

Changing the subject, Abaddon looked down at Lillit, "How is he?" She knew immediately whom he spoke of and replied, "Our son could be better. A perfect child of your strength and my deceit. His training is finished."

Abaddon shared her smile as they walked back into the murky depths of the cloud cover. "Excellent." he replied as his voice wiltered away in the clouds.

*********************

"Play the transmission for me." Aeris commanded as she entered the bridge.

From the speakers that seemed to be everywhere, the message was played.


"Lady Aeris, this is Fleet Admiral Thomas Dodge, Imitora Navy, and CMFTARL. My staff has told me that you have had a small amount of contact with FlAdm. Clagget, most manuvering coordinates. I know that we are, well, a touch late to the fight, but we're here for the long haul now. If possible, I'd like to get a meeting with you for an update on the SITREP. Just go ahead and contact us back on this line with a time and place. I look forward to meeting you."

"Set up reply."

"Complete, ma'am."

Aeris cleared her throat momentarily before speaking, "Fleet Admiral Dodge, this is Aeris. Contact with Fleet Admiral Clagget is correct. I'm glad to see you here. You're just in time for a highly classified operation about to commence. I suggest you initiate your level ten security program now as you're about to recieve details of said operation. In there, you'll see my requests for your assistance. After you've reviewed the data, meet me in the briefing room aboard this ship at 1145 hours, earth time. That's one hour from now."

She nodded to the communications officer, "Send the message, then send this." She handed him a holocron, small yet packing quite a bit of memory space. The file would remain closed until the Imitorans opened it through the necessary program. Within minutes, the entire transmission was complete, and the holocron back in her pocket. "Inform me when they are ready to meet." she stated, turning to leave.

As she left the room, a Tanaran representative approached, "Lady Aeris. Your presence is requested by Lady Peregrine." Aeris nodded and proceeded to follow her.

“I’m sure you know that you are trespassing on private property. I’m gonna ask you to mount that beast and get off my farm. So…on the beast and off my farm.”

The Rider continued to puff on his tobacco, ignoring the owner of the horse ranch as if he didn't exist, taking his time to enjoy the simple pleasures of life without heeding any distractions. Presently though, the silver-haired man dropped the butt onto the ground, grinding it under his heel, before deigning to look at the horse rancher who had decided to try and chase him off his land. As if it was possible to chase the Rider off any land he got in his head to occupy, but apparently, this foolish man didn't know anything.

"You know, I've noticed a few things", the Rider said, leaning back onto his bike and regarding Rodney with a relaxed attitude, as if he didn't realize the threat he was under. Or, if he knew, he simply didn't care. "For one thing, you're perfectly fine with a whole bunch of those snotty kids having a picnic on your farm.......but I go for a free run through your lands, and you get all hicky. For you to be so biased towards me just because I don't look like a wholesome lil' brat, it just breaks my heart, you know? What is this world comin' to?"

Chuckling to himself, the Rider stood up, and took a few steps towards Rodney; the latter tensed up, ready against any trick the intruder may try, but the silver-haired one merely looked at his lap, obviously examining the rifle the horse farmer was keeping visible in his right hand. After a few moments, the Rider smiled with a knowing glance, and then looked at Rodney again.

"For another.......that's a Mini M14 you have there. Ruger AC556, shoots 5.56mm rounds in a 20-round magazine, with a folding stock. Not to mention that P-12 that's sticking out of your pocket over there........that's a lot of firepower for a simple horse farmer such as you are, huh, my boy?"

The Rider put a finger to his lips, seeming to ponder on the situation without any sense of fear whatsoever. Then, inexplicably, the silver-haired biker gestured behind him with a thumb, seemingly into nowhere. But it was obviously not at nothing from what he said next;

"And why is your little bitch lying there with that M82 .50 sniper rifle aimed at my bike? You know what all of these says to me?"

Suddenly, before Rodney had a chance to react, the Rider was right in front of him, one hand grabbing him by the front of his shirt. And his M14 was in the Rider's other hand, being crushed by the pure force of the Rider's tightening grip. The smoky smell of the Rider's breath hit Rodney full in the face, as the Rider brought his face close to the false farmer, staring at him straight in the eye.

"It says to me that one, you two ain't what you seem, and two, you two totally suck at undercover work."

With a fling of his arm, the obviously superhuman Rider easily threw Rodney into the trees, and the impact of being thrown against the trunk knocked the false farmer out cold. Then the very next moment, Cerberus's turbocharged engines roared with an earsplitting growl, and the bike suddenly did a front wheelie on its own; barely dodging the round that cracked from Ashley's M82. In that same instance, the Rider had leapt into the air as well, doing a backflip to face the direction where the snipe shot had come from. The same maniacal grin was back on his face; the anti-tank rifle had already formed out of nowhere into his hands, as upside down in the air, he took aim.

BOOOOM!!!!!

Before the other agent could fire off another shot, the Rider retaliated; the anti-tank shot streaked through the air, striking the ground just behind the female agent; even the force of the impact from the missed shot was enough to hurl Ashley out from her hiding place, knocked out cold as well although not terribly injured, just as Rodney was.

Then the sentry guns chattered; quickly dropping to the ground, the Rider took cover as the bike Cerberus revved around to his front, its armor plating acting as cover for its master from the hail of bullets being pumped in his direction. Its armor began to shift; the stand of the bike elongated and planted itself onto the ground, while the seat of the bike moved aside, making way for the machine gun tripod that rose from the bike. The Rider appeared in sight again, this time with an FN MAG GPMG in hand, and quickly he fixed the large machine gun onto the tripod, while bullets flew all around him. Finally, with the big gun fixed onto the support, the Rider grinned from behind Cerberus.

"Time to eat some, ladies!"

And with that, the GPMG spoke; in a matter of seconds, the four sentry guns that had been firing at the Rider were but smoking lumps, while the Rider was once again leaning on his bike, smoking another fag unconcernedly despite the apparent danger his life was in just moments ago. Looking at the two unconscious agents who had just tried to waylay him (unsuccessfully), he grinned. Those kids didn't know what they were up against, but he couldn't blame them. They didn't have what it takes to deal with him after all, and besides, it's not like he killed them just because of that. They would wake up soon, albeit with a splitting headache.

"Jeez, you people really need to take classes in hospitality towards guests......."

Stephen watched dumb founded on the screen as the Rider quickly took out the two VIB agents and several sentry guns. He stared at the rider; zooming in as far as he could with the camera. There was something about him that was strange, something oddly familiar about him that made the vampire scratch his head.

He paused the feed as the Rider shifted, giving Stephen a better view of the face. He studied it the little man in the far back of his mind began to awake, coming forward and typing in the answer into the vampire’s brain.

“Zero…” he muttered, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

Nicole looked at him. “Stephen…Stephen….”

Her husband stared at the screen, his eyes wide, and his mouth hanging loosely open as he stared at the image on the screen. He muttered again. “Zero…I thought he was dead.”

Nicole looked at the screen, she studied the picture and then like Stephen, she recognized the face. “That self-centered…pompous…thin skulled dick face…”

Nicole never liked Zero, ever since he had been rude to her just after they had met when she was only a year old as a vampire. “I thought he was…”

Stephen nodded. But there was no denying it, the man out there had Zero’s face. But he was in the daylight…how? Stephen’s head fell and he chuckled. “It’s just like Maximus to Sigrun. Zero must have died and is now reborn…still that same…”

Stephen flicked a switch, turning on the outside intercom which Zero could hear quiet well outside.

“Stupid mother fucker! Jesus fucking Christ! Can’t any of my friends stay in one fucking form for more than a millennium? Jesus Christ Zero…you have surely fucked me over this time. Barn on your far left, door is open on the other side. Get your ass in here now. Oh and Amara…do dad a favor and check on the two humans.”

Just after the intercom shut off, the door to the barn directly ahead of the Rider opened and an eighteen year old looking girl came outside, she shut the door and with only a quick glance at the Rider ran to where he had thrown Rodney.


Meanwhile Stephen stood inside, his cobalt blue eyes burning white hot in anger as he awaited for the man he once knew as Zero to enter his household. He wasn’t very pleased, Skadi had been polite when she had come here…he expected this from her…then again…it was Zero.

Stephen waited, Nicole by his side.

Stupid mother fucker! Jesus fucking Christ! Can't any of my friends stay in one fucking form for more than a millennium? Jesus Christ Zero...you have surely fucked me over this time. Barn on your far left, door is open on the other side. Get your ass in here now. Oh and Amara...do dad a favor and check on the two humans."

Unseen by Stephen from that distance, the Nameless Rider grinned at the vampire's pissed tirade, although of course, it was clear that the Nameless Rider did, in fact, have a name after all. One that no one else knew, at least not by those who had not known about who he used to be, back in the times of the Third Assingtonian Civil War that raged in Emerald city, all those centuries before. Indeed, he was Zero, otherwise known as Raphael Celadrin; the Ancient hero from the Atrosian race of Noble blood vampires, one of those who had such an integral part in how the War eventually turned out. However, the memories of those days were but distant memories; now only those who had fought with him back then would remember who he was now. Stephen Malone was one of them.

Of course, Raphael thought to himself, now he isn't what he used to be anymore. He's no longer vampire, but something else entirely; what, he had not yet told the rest of them, at least not clearly. Even Hondur was still getting used to the fact that an old friend long thought dead was walking the land once more, resurrected in a new form. In a way, it was reminiscent of how the bloodthirsty terror Maximus Destroi was reborn as the Elven legend-king Sigrun Greenwood, whose passing had precipitated all the mess that was currently happening in Tarlachia in the first place.

Of course, I can never match you, old friend. What a hell of a mess you left behind when you decided to just screw everything and go........only you can screw the rest of us up like that. Me? Heh......I don't have the kind of influence on the world that you had. Thank goodness for that, really.

Still smirking to himself, the reborn Raphael gave the teenage girl who ran past him no more than a cursory glance, as he strolled leisurely towards the barn that Stephen's booming voice had indicated over the intercom, his bike cruising slowly behind him as it followed of its own accord, like some kind of faithful dog. Which it really was, in a sense; except neither Stephen, nor anyone else for that matter, needed to know right now. Not yet.

At the door, the bike-that-was-no-mere-bike stopped short at the door, extending its stand as it parked itself by the door. Offhandedly, Raphael smacked the bike on its seat; out popped a can of chilled beer from a secret compartment into the air, and the silver-haired biker caught it, popping the tab and taking a good, long drink just as he stepped through the door of the barn, to see Stephen and Nicole staring at him; evidently they weren't too impressed with what he had done earlier out there. But then again, they really should have took lessons in hospitality, he thought.

"Aaaaaaaaah, good cold beer always goes well after a little exercise!!!!", Raph said, raising his beer can towards Stephen in an impromptu toast, ignoring the fact that the young vampire was staring at him with barely disguised fury. "Yo, kid. Haven't seen you in a while now, eh? How're you doing? Oh, hey there Nikki. Didn't think you'd still be sticking around Stephen after all this time."

With that, Raph drifted off to one side, seemingly distracted by something. Curious, the silver-haired hellbiker sniffed at the air, looking like he was surprised at something he had found. Then he turned back to Stephen, and he looked visibly perplexed at a question he could not answer himself.

"Hey, kid! How come your place stinks of lycan bitch?"

"Lady Aeris. Your presence is requested by Lady Peregrine." Aeris nodded and proceeded to follow her.

"Your Highness" Perigrine gave Aeris a brief nod of the head as Aeris entered the ShadowDancer as she lay docked in one of the many slips that lined the massive asteriod base. "Thank you for coming. There are some ones that I'd like to introduce to you."

With an eye flicker she signalled Sha'Do, the ShadowDancer's fully sentient A.I., to bring up the lights fully with in the sleek ships spacious gathering room. Her sons and daughters rose from their seats, where they had waited, with admirable patience, for the head of Tarlachia -in- Exile's government to arrive. They gave Princess Aeris half bows as they did so.

They were inpressive. Five male and five female. One set of male twins, one set of female twins, and one set of male/ female identical twins the other four were singletons. The smallest among them stood five foot eleven, the tallest nearly six foot eight. They were all perfect specimens of physical perfection, their muscles dense and inhumanly strong without making them bulky, and they had their Neitzschean mother's full nanite load out coursing in their veins. Some had prehensile tails, others did not, three had wings of ebon feathers, and two of equally dark leather. All had the vertically pupiled eyes of the Neitzscheans, and five had gleamed more than faintly in the semi dark that the filled the room as Aeris had arrived. Their movements were inhumanly graceful. Some had ebon skin -true black not the dark of the human race- the others had a more normal range of skin tones. They were definitely demonic cross breeds.One looked to be a mirror image of Abaddon himself, one of the females Lillit, and one of the other females was pure Perigrine, the others had varying mixtures to their features.

"My daughters and sons."

Pnce Aeris had gotten over her understandable shock, Perigrine introduced each of them. "They wish to be part of the coming offensive. They are fully trained to My satisfaction and those of them with non Nietzschean abilities and those capable of weilding majick are also equally trained in their uses." That had been no small trouble and expense for Perigrine to get done in complete secrecy. However she had had the full weight and resources of the Empire behind her, and no expense had been spared.

Their training had been rigorous, and she had always encouraged them to learn as much as possible, to love learning, proving themselves against the universe and all it could throw at them. In her home universe all of them would have risen to legendary status in their own lifetimes, sought by countless others of her race to breed with in hopes of producing superior children. Perfection of mind and body, as epitimized by surviving...no not only surviving but excelling over anything the Universe could test them with, the sole, driving, genetically bred into blood, bone and yes soul of every scion of the Nietzschean race.

The black combat armor gleaned in the soft light of the Halcyon class ship. It was worn by SSgt. Lucas Harlow, 2nd Company, Thrid Platoon of the 105th ODST, who was not only one of the deadlier in his unit, but also part of the elite Third Platoon. To say someone in the 105th was elite was almost a redundant statement, but the Thrid Platoon was not a combat action platoon, but a unit dedicate solely to bodygaurd duty in combat times. There were memebers of the Third Platoon, which was really more company sized, on almost every ship and planet in the Imitoran sphere of influence.

Harlow, and his compatriot Steven Ellot were suiting up, pulling on the dark combat armor, covering their bodies and faces with ceramisteel. Following the armor was the arming, Harlow taking his weapon of choice for close combat, the M90 shotgun. The eight gauge, pump action was easy to clear hallways and rooms, and the solid heavy stock was easy to smash a face or two. Ellot took the standard weapon, the BR55 rifle. Suited up, they moved quietly from their room out to the main walkway, which brought them to the shuttle bay. A single Pelican stood ready, Dodge already loaded up into the ship.

The Admiral wasn't leaving his life totally up to the troops, though. Instead, he also carried a weapon, a M6C magnum handgun. Once the two soldiers had loaded up, the Pelican left from the Fall of Athens, and headed towards the Tarlachian fleet.

Stephen was a calm and gentle person. Hands down he was probably the most even tempered vampires of his species. He tolerated a lot, mostly having to do with having Skadi as his teacher so he learned to tolerate…most of her ways so that sort of prepped him for life. But, Zero was a whole nuther ball game.

Zero was rude, full of ego and seemed rather slow in the head but quick on the tongue. He didn’t seem to get the fact the teenage girl who he had seen was Amara, his and Nicole’s daughter, and the lycan he smelled. She certainly was no elf or angel or human…what human would live with vampires anyway?

Stephen also was a small bit of a legend in the Emerald City vampire community, not only was he taught by the ancient Skadi, but he was one with no sire. A fluke, something that wasn’t suppose to happen. It had taken him 1000 years to turn into a vampire and as such, at vampire birth his physical strength was that of a five hundred year old vampire. Now, at nearly thirteen hundred years old, it was nearly that of a seven hundred year old elder inside a three hundred year old neonate.

And all of this force came right out on Zero. No sooner had lycan bitch exited his mouth and the beer went back to the lips, all of Stephen’s unnatural powers came to life.

His right fist shot forward like lightening and struck Zero square in the mouth, sending the other man tumbling back over the couch, a chair and finally crashing into the circular stairs leading upstairs, breaking the last eight steps. Several of his teeth were also chipped.

Stephen moved forward a few meters from Zero, his fangs full extended and visible, his cobalt blue eyes were as cold and barren as the icy plains of Antarctica and his voice bit with the same cold as the wind of the icy continent.

“I have let you get away with many things Zero…but coming to my home, assaulting two Federal Agents, and then insulting my own daughter…you have crossed the line once before when you insulted Nicole when you first met her but Hondur kept me back. But you have crossed the line with no excuse to back your bloated sense of yourself up.

“In case you don’t read the newspapers I am the least popular man in the Golden Simatar and people lust for my blood. The current President doesn’t like me living here very much and by attacking those two VIB agents and not going the easy route and introducing yourself as a friend of mine you have basically signed Nicole’s and my exile papers. As soon as word reaches him of you possibly paralyzing one and injuring another, he has his excuse to give Nicole and I the boot.

“Then…coming in here all high and mighty like a rock star fresh off a world tour and insulting my daughter. If you considered thinking you might guess that the girl outside checking on the VIB is not human or elf….no one in their right mind would live with two vampires. You come in here and smell lycan…outside of my dragons I have no pets so don’t think of spitting out a bullshit statement like that. You have no excuse for calling Amara a bitch Zero…not one excuse in this great world.

“You have no excuse at all for your conduct at all. I am a calm person Zero…but even I have my limits.”

Nicole stood next to Stephen, her eyes a little calmer then her husband’s, yet her fangs were also extended.

“So…mind explaining why you are here? Outside of fucking with our lives?”

"Your Highness" Perigrine gave Aeris a brief nod of the head as Aeris entered the ShadowDancer as she lay docked in one of the many slips that lined the massive asteriod base. "Thank you for coming. There are some ones that I'd like to introduce to you."

As soon as the doors had been opened, Aeris had noted something off, something wrong in this room of ShadoDancer's insides. Something that caused Aeris to immediately settle into a defensive position. Her eyes flickered lenses, and the darkness before her illuminated the ten figures all seated, all with their eyes on the entryway. However, in the next moment, the lights were turned on, and they were momentarily lost as Aeris closed her eyes, turned her head downward slightly, and returned to her elven lenses. After a moment, she looked back up into the room.

"My daughters and sons." Peregrine introduced, her attention on Aeris to watch her reactions.

Aeris looked between the ten of them, all either at eye level with her, or towering over her. She shook her head negatively for a moment and approached one of them. "Impossible." she muttered to herself. She moved closer to one of the females, one that had startling resemblences to Lillit, minus a few physical features. Inhaling discreetly, Aeris could sense the demonic blood that issued lightly like a dark omen. She moved to the next child, another female whom looked more of a cross between the two races. A hand reached up to gently touch the female's skin, feeling its texture, feeling the arcane energies that rippled invisibly across the surface. As she did so, there was a slight shift of the reality scope right behind her as her wings slightly came into view.

Her hand slipped away, and her wings disappeared from sight. She at last, turned to face Peregrine, her eyes intense. "This was not a wise decision, interbreeding the two." She gestured to the ones that looked the most like their current adversaries in the war, "How do you know they're not going to succumb to the darkness that is inside them? How do you know we won't become sabotagued? And who in the hell trained them for their arcane abilities?"

A male voice came from the corner of the room, answering her question, "I did."

She turned to gaze upon this newcomer, "Liam?" She blinked a few times, "Is this what you've been doing all this time?"

He nodded, "I knew what was going to happen once Lillit had been captured. I knew that the Nietzscheans would need expert assistance in that regard, so I offered my skills. Peregrine speaks the truth. They are ready, and quite able for combat purposes."

Aeris scoffed slightly, "Their arcanes, you only know the powers of Light."

Liam shook his head in agreement, "True, but you forget something. I am seraphim. As such, I am quite familiar with the forces of Dark, and I am capable of drawing such energy out. It's in our nature," he gestured to the ten of them, "If anything, they've been a very useful, very capable group of half-breeds to train upon. They have been properly trained to resist the allure of the Dark genes, to maintain balance. Much as in the way you are a half-breed of elven and angelic sources, they are the best of the Nietscheans, and the best of the first generations of demons."

Aeris looked toward them again, then back to Peregrine, "Liam wouldn't lie about something like this." She looked away for several moments as she thought carefully.

Silence filled the room as they all awaited her to speak. When she did, it was to a note they would be pleased to hear.

"All right. They're in. Let's see how they really stand against our enemies."

***********

"Imitoran troop transport Pelican coming into bay three." declared an ensign.

"Affirmed. Send them an envoy to bring them to Lady Aeris, over in ShadoDancer." commanded the leading officer on shift.

"Not the council room?" the ensign, a young lad with brown, clean cut hair, asked.

"No." replied the officer, "Her orders." The ensign saluted and began to turn away. "Ensign Ramos."

The soldier turned back.

"Don't question me again unless you want to scrub the hull again."

"Yes sir." the soldier replied with a gulp. Scrubbing the hull of the ships wasn't a fun task, and it typically meant going out into space and removing any foreign articles of space travel that might have gotten caught where they weren't supposed to. It was considered a dangerous task, for at any moment, anything could come hurtling along at high speeds and kill them before they knew what hit them.

"All right. They're in. Let's see how they really stand against our enemies."


As she spoke,Adoni, his brothers and sisters (http://www.atddm.com/pchildren.htm) as well let the tenseness they had been feeling show, and they all exchanged relieved and happy glances.

"Thank you greatly your Highness. We will do our best not to disappoint you." Adoni spoke confidently. "Lord Celedrin has been most thorough in his teaching and he has taught us every thing we know about demons. Though I'd hazard a guess that it is not all he knows" Pergrine's eldest, the double of Abaddon himself, and acknowledged co leader among the siblings joshed gently, but he suspected truely.

"Our lady mother was most thorough in our all education, making sure we had the best teachers and mentors she could ferret out." Lillith said softly then grinned "And she was an absolute dictator when it came to learning other than the arts of war."

The others laughed at that and semi chorused "Well Balanced" making Perigrine blush ever so faintly. Then she held up a hand as Sha'do advised her, through her communications implant that Base Control had just taken in a shuttle carrying Fleet Admiral Thomas Dodge and aides from the Imitoran Fleet.

"Fleet Admiral Thomas Dodge will be arriving here in less than ten minutes Princess Aeris" Sha'Do said aloud so that all could hear.

Sprawled at the foot of the stairs, the red-coated hellbiker began to laugh. It started off as a controlled rumbling in his stomach, as he slowly picked himself up, then it became an amused from-the-belly chuckle as he brushed himself off, unconcerned about the gimlet glares that the Malones were shooting at him, just a few meters away from him. And in front of their eyes, Raphael's teeth regrew in a matter of seconds; spitting out a mouthful of blood, he otherwise looked entirely unharmed by Stephen's strike, even with the full force of an Elder's strength behind it and all. With that, Raphael looked askance at Stephen.

"Time for some anger management, kid."

The next instant, both Stephen and Nicole found themselves being dragged along the floor by their necks, unable to react against the astonishing strength and speed with which Raphael pulled their heads through the floor, ripping two parellel trails of broken paving before slamming them with incredible force against the opposite wall, disintegrating the paintings that just happened to be there, and making two human-shaped holes in the paint of the wall where Stephen and Nicole had been plastered onto it. Loosening his grip on the duo, the silver-haired hellbiker watched calmly as he let the Malones drop to the floor on their knees, gasping as they dealt with the pain caused by ribs broken by the juggernaut force that Raphael had dealt upon them; force that came from a being no longer human, or indeed no longer a being entirely chained by the laws of the physical world, even that of a vampire of many centuries. Indeed, the power that the resurrected hero of the Third Assingtonian Civil War possessed was far beyond that of even Stephen's, enough to conceivably destroy the latter entirely, if Raphael so wished. Which, of course, he did not.

As the Malones regained their breath from the jarring slam, their vampiric physiology ensuring that they healed quickly from even the horrendous physical injuries that Raphael had unleashed upon them with juggernaut force, the latter broke out a fag, lighting it and casually taking a puff upon it as he looked at the two young vampires again.

"We've not seen each other for goodness knows how long, kid, and first thing you do is slug me?", Raphael said, smoke trailing out from his nostrils like he was some fire-breathing dragon from Oriental lore. The smoke wafted around his face, making him look more menacing than usual. "First time I come to your place, and you expect me to know what's what? That's asking too much of me, indeed it's asking too much of anyone. And to think I came here for a break from fighting Arithon's goddamned demons for a freakin' decade; you tell me, how am I supposed to know those two buggers I whacked out there aren't his assassins out to get me? I certainly wouldn't know they were your men, idiot. Especially not if I didn't know the arrangements you made with your mush-brained dolt of a President, so you could settle down here like some freakin' human male with his wife and kid, and a freakin' dog in a house with a white picket fence."

With that, Raphael dropped his tobacco onto the floor, grinding it underneath the heel of his boot; he promptly pulled Stephen up by his shirt, slamming the vampire against the wall, although not hard enough to break anything else as yet.

"And for another thing, I've seen that girl out there, and I've heard you call her Amara so I'll assume that's your little girl, but don't insult my intelligence by telling me I should guess that she's anything other than human", the silver-haired hellbiker growled at the vampire this time, showing him his own fangs that signified he wasn't entirely of human heritage. "Let me tell you a story, Stephen. Several centuries from this day, in the Assingtonian city of Emerald, there was a young girl who was rescued from the brink of death by a vampire from the island nation of Atros. She was but a mere human, barely 15 years of age, and the gap between her and the immortal spanned more than a millenium. Yet the Ancient loved her, and took her in; in time, she loved him too, even though he was immortal, and she was but human, doomed to die in a mere several decades. He took her in, and although he eventually left her, they had still spent a long, happy time together. And even though she turned out to be not just human afterwards......for the first few decades of their life together, she was the human lover of a one cursed to immortality. And you're telling me it's impossible for a human to live with a vampire?"

Just then, Raphael's face inexplicably turned melancholy; Stephen began to breath easier as the former dropped him back on the floor. A pregnant pause ensued, before the hellbiker spoke again.

"Before she became the Princess of Tarlachia.......she was just a mortal girl named Aeris. So don't you ever dare again say that no human in her right mind would live with a vampire."

He closed his eyes, as if reminiscening about his past life. After a few moments though, those eyes opened again, and his old self was back, the all-too-familiar cheeky grin brightening his face once again.

"But come, come! We're supposed to be on the same side here, we don't have to fight!", Raphael said. "Now all that is said and done on my side......yeah, kid. Sorry about making a mess out of things here, even though I couldn't possibly have known any better. But you know me, shoot first and ask questions later. My apologies about your Amara too, though I'm still wondering how it is you'll take in a Lycan, especially since you fought against them too back in the Third Assingtonian Civil War."

He extended both hands to both Stephen and Nicole, offering to pick them back up onto their feets. "I'll help fix this mess up later, once I'm done with what I'm really here for. So......no hard feelings, I hope?"

Tolkien watched the proceedings in a confused state of mind. At first he thought the man who had been hit across the floor was done for, but the next thing the little dragon knew was that the man held Stephen and Nicole and was dragging them through the house, literally. The only thing the dragon could do was bark and fly around, unsure of what exactly to do. When the man had finally dropped them, the little dragon flew down to the ground and ran first up to Nicole and began to lick her, remembering his mother licking him and it made him feel better when he was a pup.

They were moaning and Tolkien knew they were in pain. He turned and began to yap as the man grabbed Stephen and dragged him back to the wall.


Stephen hacked up some blood onto an Oriental rug as Raphael hauled him up and slammed him against the wall. The vampire could feel several cracked ribs and possibly one broken, his skull pounded in pain from being dragged through hardwood floors. But he still was able to clearly make out what Raphael was saying. His first statement didn’t make much sense to the vampire, Arithon’s assassins in the Golden Simatar? Unlikely as it seemed to Stephen then again his country was oblivious to the existence of vampires for centuries.

Though he had at least expected Raphael to sense that the two people outside were human and as far as Stephen knew it was only demons they were facing in Tarlachia. Stephen sighed as Raphael went into a very obvious tale of what had occurred in Tarlachia during the Third Assington Vampire War. He would have made a sarcastic comment at this if he didn’t hurt so much.

As soon as he dropped to the floor, he felt Tolkien’s tongue move across his face in an attempt to make the vampire feel better. Stephen groaned as he heard Raphael suddenly switch back to his old self. He really needs to take medication. Barely able to take hold of Raphael’s hands, the vampires felt themselves pulled up and onto their feet. Stephen wrapped his arm around Nicole, not being as old as he was she would take longer to heal and her body wasn’t as strong to absorb as much impact as he did. Stephen deposited Nicole on one of the couches before stumbling into the kitchen and retrieving two bags of blood and two glasses and went back to the couch. He opened one of them and poured the contents into a glass and was able get some down Nicole’s throat before she was able to hold the glass herself. As Stephen got his own drink ready, Nicole lowered her glass and looked at Raphael.

“You have the wildest mood swings of anyone I know of. Might as well…take a seat.” Once Raphael was seated, Nicole looked a look around her living room. “I hope you fix it up, I rather like it clean.”

The vampiress took another sip of blood. “When Amara was still human she was studying in Emerald City as an exchange student. Another student was a lycan, he was turned after being accidentally bitten during third vampire war and bit her after they were ambushed by some vampires. She came back here, after her first transformation and the boy who turned her followed and killed her family and friends. Stephen found her in her home shortly after she had killed her creator and brought her back. She’s been like the daughter we could never have. An interesting note…she is petrified of vampires, scared to death…won’t even watch a vampire movie. We have suggested sending her to Hondur and spending some time with him so she will be more comfortable…but she balked the the very notion of going back to Assington.”

At that moment they heard the front door open and Amara’s voice. “Mr. Greenwich has a few cracked ribs, a very bruised back and he is out cold. Ms. Mercer had some gashes on her leg and back but I sealed them up with my blood. Who is that assho…”

Amara froze as she entered the room and stared at the devastation. Her eyes fell upon Stephen and Nicole and the lycan rushed forward. “Mom, dad…what happened?”

“Just a little misunderstanding Amara.” Stephen said.

Amara looked up and stared at Raphael with a If I could I would tear your throat out look in her aquamarine eyes. Though, Amara was still not old enough as a lycan to be able to transform at will, but the anger was still there. “So who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I hope you fix it up, I rather like it clean.”

"Yes Ma'am, I'll get on it before I go!", Raphael replied in an almost impossibly cheery voice, as he unreservedly fell into the cushion opposite Nicole's as if what had transpired moments before never happened. Seeing that the Malones had their own drinks, the hellbiker promptly looked around for the can of beer he had brought into the place, before remembering that it had been overturned during the fracas that had made a mess of the area around them.

"Oh, shoot. What a waste, good booze really takes a chunk out of the wallet nowadays......"

With that, he raised a hand in the air and snapped his fingers; from outside the house, the roar of Cerberus's engines was heard, and then the door popped open; in came a fresh can of beer flying through the air, and Raphael easily caught it, promptly popping the tab and taking a good, long swig from it himself. The door slammed shut again with another snap of his fingers.

"Interesting......", Raphael murmured, as bit by bit Nicole recounted Amara's life story before they took her in, and then he looked askance at Stephen once more. "Gotta hand it to you, kid. Despite being a vampire now, against all odds you actually managed to get yourself a wife, a kid, and a nice house. You even have a goddamned little doggy", his eyes followed Tolkein's flight path as he said this, "like some goddamned human living out his happy family life, however short. I'm almost jealous."

Just then, the girl they called Amara burst in and made her report to her parents, and Raphael took this chance to take another deep swig out of his beer, studiously ignoring the exchange between 'father' and 'daughter', even the murderous glare that the young Lycan shot at him. Only when she spoke, did he look up from his beer and grinned at her.

"Sprite, I'm old enough to be your great-great-great-great-great-great.....great-......", there he paused, brows furrowed as he tried to count on his fingers before giving up with an exasperated shake of his head. "Argh, I lost count. Just 'Uncle' would do then, little one", he finally decided, winking mischieviously at Amara. Then, the silver-haired man closed his right hand into a fist; from between his fingers, black light glowed.

"And oh, by the way, good timing. Here......"

With almost an afterthought, Raphael swung his right hand, and threw two black pills at Amara, and the Lycan girl caught it easily. In her hands, the two pills looked ordinary, yet even she could sense the dark power enamating from the otherwise innocuous-looking pills. On the other hand, there seemed to be no evil intent in it whatsoever despite its dark nature, which seemed almost strange for its dichotomy.

"Feed one of these each to those two poor buggers out there for me, would you?", Raphael waved her away, as if shooing off a distraction. "Would fix them up just fine, and they won't remember shit to boot. Problem fixed, no one needs to know anything happened here. And as for what I'm here for......", he paused, watching Tolkein again, before he continued.

"Funny I should see one of those ice lizards here, small as this one is, but at least I know I'm in the right place", Raphael remarked, leaning back and making himself comfortable on the couch. "See, I'm doing a favour for one of them. What was his name again......", he scratched his silver hair for a moment. "Oh yes, Goric, I believe it is! Anyway he practically begged me to deliver a message for him to one of his kind. Darius I think was his name......

He paused again, scratching his chin this time. "Only other thing he told me was that I'd find this Darius where I'd find you, kid. And of course, let's just say I haven't exactly been able to keep up to date, so I had to go bother old Hondur for where you were. That's a long way to ride to Assington, it is."

At that, Raphael sighed. "And even Hondur wasn't too clear on that either. Neither did he tell me about the two buggers who work for you too, kid. That Hondur's probably getting all old and forgetful, I'd not be surprised if he looks all wrinkly the next time I see him around."

Amara stared at the man and then at the pills in her hand. They gave her a strange sensation in her hand and they almost looked like some kind of poison capsule you see in movies or a small black Jelly-Belly. Still, she looked at Stephen who nodded. Then, she looked at the man. “Okay…Uncle…”

Amara left the room with the pills in hand and went back outside towards the farm house.

Stephen chuckled as he looked at Raphael. “People have always said my fault is I am too human. I guess the fact that I spent a thousand years as one has affected me. If I turned into a vampire that night thirteen hundred years back…probably would be much different now, maybe more like Hondur.”

Almost as soon as Darius left Raphael’s mouth, Tolkien was sitting next to him, his front paws on Raphael’s leg; his tail flying wildly and an incoherent stream of draconic streamed forth from the little dragon’s mouth. The dragon runt continued to babble, climbing on top of Raphael and slapping his front paws on the man’s chest as if to demand he answer.

Nicole laughed. “Tolkien is a runt, he maybe small and probably not that bright, he can’t even speak straight draconic…but the little guy knows the name of his dad when he hears it. Never heard of a Goric before though. You Stephen?”

“No can’t say I have. Though he must be someone Darius left in charge of his clan when he returned here. Give us a minute Zero.”

The vampires closed their eye and concentrated on their insides, using their powers they readjusted their ribs to their original positions to speed the healing even more. Once this was done, Amara was already back inside; she looked at Tolkien who was still on Raphael.

“Tolkien, here boy…here boy.”

The runt turned and flew into her arms and she cradled him gently. Stephen and Nicole opened their eyes and stood. “Come on Zero…let ya meet the big guy himself. Since you talked to a dragon ya know draconic but we can translate if you have trouble.”

Leading Raphael to a hidden doorway, the vampires led Raphael, with Amara following, down a series of hidden tunnels that connected all three barns and up a flight of metal stairs into a small room. Nicole opened the door revealing a winter wonderland. Tolkien shot out of Amara’s hands and flew over a mound of snow before them and instantly the cries of several dragons were heard.

Stephen, Nicole, Raphael, and Amara moved atop the snowy hill and revealed to Raphael was Darius along with his mate Cassandra and six pony sized dragon pups, Tolkien meanwhile was sitting atop one of his sisters and babbling away.

Stephen whistled and Darius looked up. The vampire spoke in draconic. “This is Raphael; he has a message from a dragon named Goric.”

Darius’ ears instantly twitched and the dragon moved over to the snow hill and was directly eye to eye with Raphael. He spoke in draconic. “What news from my clan?”

OOC: TGS and GU, you may continue your little interaction. Sorry for the misunderstanding we had...

IC:

Aeris was studying the Nietzschean offspring of science as the message about the arrival of the Imitorans was announced by the doors sliding open to their arrival. Turning quietly, she laid eyes upon Admiral Dodge and raised an eyebrow at the weaponry they held.

"Not exactly necessary," she began, "although with you lot, perhaps to be expected." She turned slightly, holding an arm out to interior of the room in which Aeris, Peregrine, and the offspring were situated. As an afterthought, she added in, holding a hand up as if to stop them before they fired upon the ten offspring off to the side of the room, somewhat in the shadows, "Oh...the ten strange looking ones here that look a lot like our 'dear friends' who've been terrorizing the region for the last ten years...they're not our enemy. Ask Lady Peregrine about this if you wish, for they are her...creation." A sideways glance was delivered to the woman.

"Nevertheless, welcome to ShadowDancer, a fine vessel if I must say. I've gathered us here to discuss upcoming movements, as you are aware. I need to know when you're prepared to depart, how many strong, and the likes. Then, we'll send word to our earth-bound friends, get them in on the situation and have them coordinated."

She paused then called out, "ShaDo, please pull up a topographical map of enemy-held lands, including Tarlachia. Please also include an overlay of Allied forces positions around the region." As she waited, she took the opportunity to seat herself in a nearby chair.

*****************************

"You summoned?" Lillit's voice filtered through the room, seductive, soft as silk, and as dangerous as fire. She strode into the room, well adjusted to her role as his right hand, her beautiful physique complimenting the dark-toned muscular frame of her love.

Turning toward the sound of her voice, Abaddon's eyes flashed red for a moment as he sealed the room into a soundproof box. "Yes. I've a job for you, something that's going to require your skills to do."

"Anything you desire." she replied confidently. A smile crept across her face as she realized he was about to give her something big, something risky, and something entirely evil.

"Your skills of shapeshifting and seduction." he began, "are required to penetrate the interior camps of the Tarlachians trapped in our vice. I want them destroyed once and for all, and you're going to set up a breach in their border for the grunts to come in and kill them all."

"It shall be done." she replied, stepping closer to deliver a seductive kiss upon his lips. Lightly, she bit his lower lip, drawing blood. The taste was metallic, almost acidic in a sense, and in the few drops she had gathered, she could literally taste a fragment of the power that coursed through his veins. "I'll be back before you know it."

"ShaDo, please pull up a topographical map of enemy-held lands, including Tarlachia. Please also include an overlay of Allied forces positions around the region."

As the Imitoran Admiral,with his aides and body guards, entered the suprizingly spacious room- for a warship were every inch of space was typically devoted for weapons and shielding- Sha'Do, the Shadow Dancers AI-brought up a highly detailed holograph of FT, and the Alliance positions, with a seperate, overlaid detailing of Tarlachia - labeled with every bit of intell they'd been able to garner. They had com int, human int, elec int, and more.

"If there is anything more you need, please don't hesitate to ask" Sha'Do's melodious voice sounded softly.

****************************************

Elsewhere on the Shadow Dancer a tall slender figure in dirty, ragged clothes STEPPED out of nothingness. "Hecate forbid the need for such antics" Shalamar said wearily as she began stripping off her disguise "Sha'Do, I went through the Vatacin thriteen times and that is thirteen too many."

"But it makes you completely untraceable to them"

"I'm more certain than ever that they've never been able to trace STEP, but I know 'take no chances' and leave no trace" She snorted as she stepped into her suites shower compartment and began scrubbing real authentic Tarlachian soil off of her. "I couldn't get past the Inner Wards however, and that means somethings up. Don't know what yet though. So has Perigrine let Aeris meet the kids?"

"Yes they met and now Admiral Dodge commander of the Imitoran forces is here now as well. You might want to join them."

"I'll be there shortly then, but can you have dinner waiting for me. I need to have something in me or I am going to be too light headed to be of any use."

"I'll have some of your favorites waiting for you there." Sha'Do replied as Shalamar stepped out of the shower and with a thought dried herself and manifested her crimson silk robes and veils of a Tenereu about her.


**************************************

Lillit smiled as Abaddon's slid about her, and he deepedned their kiss. Long moments passed before they both reluctantly broke the embrace. They had been apart much of late and Lillit didn't hesitate to let her mate know how much she had missed that. "We will simply have to take two or three centuries of vacation after this minor fracas is settled by our victory." She said in her darkling voice as she stepped back, and looked him up and down.

"You are still the handsomest being in existance, and I never tire of you my mate" She considered herself fortuante beyond belief, for their Bond was the rarest among their kind - that of true love. Then she was gone as he unsealed the room.

Nez'gah and Arithon stood before the desolate plains of Tarlachia, yet were actually nowhere near the nation itself. Both demons could clearly view the wasteland before them yet anyone within Tarlachia could not see them in return.

Grinning slightly, Nez'gah turned to his master.

"So this is what you wanted to show me?"

"Indeed. With the portal now permanently established in this region it has become much easier to shift between the planes of existence. This, abyss is simply the space in between. Nothing physical exists here but the ethereal are free to roam this void."

Pondering the concept for a few moments, Nez'gah posed a question.

"So how will this help us for the coming battle if we cannot exist physically within this place?"

"The energies from the portal can be used to transport matter. Whilst in here, your physical body does not exist but once you exit upon the other side you shall find it completely intact."

"Excellent. From what I've been able to find out we have little to fear from the Golden Simatar forces, their technology is not on par with that of Imitora or Tanara. It would be best to keep as many forces in here until they land their ground forces."

"Of course, but I want all the camp guards to remain in place and a few others scattered about in order to maintain a watchful eye. We can afford to lose a few thousand in their initial attack."

"Indeed. Shall I brief the the relevant casters?"

Arithon nodded and stepped out of the void and into the physical nation that was Tarlachia. There was still the issue of what Abaddon had planned.

The life of an insurgent fighting for their right to live against the massively oppressive demonic empire was not an easy one. It had been ten years now, and those that had remained in the depths of Tarlachia, surrounded by enemy forces, had somehow by miracle or pure stamina, kept the forces of darkness at bay. As determined as they were, none wished to surrender the last foothold of Tarlachian soil held by Tarlachians alone.

Unlike their brethren whom resided alongside the Tanaran soldiers and friends on the borders of Tanaara and Tarlachia, these men and women had not seen rest for a very long time. War was a fact of their lives, and the pleasant childhood that many had long ago, seemed to be nothing more than a dream. Green trees of the Aria Forest, blue waters of the River Aria, rustling grasslands of the North and the West, bustling cities around the downed nation, all were but memories.

All were dead, heavily saturated with death and evil contamination. All were unlikely to be recovered to their former beauty except by miracles alone.

Striding along the northeastern fortified wall, many soldiers turned briefly to acknowledge the passing commander, a legend unto herself, born of the harsh life of many Raxhun, pushed to excellence by her own standards, commanding death to kneel before her whenever confronted. Rikan Tansho had seen death's terrifying hold on her life as a child, when it had taken the lives of her parents and family. She was spared somehow, and in time, had become adopted into a mercenary clan now long disbanded, or rather murdered one by one by those they had sworn to protect the general populace against: vampires. She was the last of the Wolves clan, and she had more than avenged the death of her clan. Upon the onslaught of this war, she had risen once again to the call of desperation for justice and protection, rapidly becoming a leader despite her attempts to remain in the shadows. After a year of such attempts, she finally gave up and accepted the position.

For nine years since, she had commanded the extreme reinforcements of the dividing wall, the wall that held the raging waters of death at bay of this tiny island of refuge.

Walking up to a man clad in heavy armor, his eyes scanning the horizons, she spoke just loud enough for him to hear. "Yulas, still quiet?"

"For the most part, ma'am," he replied as he turned to face her, "Been a few attacks toward the gates, but they've held strong. That was a few days ago. Nothing since."

"How are the developments along the dry creek?" she asked, "You know, the weak point in our defense?" She glanced as something flashed in the distance but disappeared before she could lay her eyes upon it. Her eyes narrowed a moment.

"We're moving as fast as we can, but supplies and troops are low. We've got a few of the elves sitting down there as defense, but like I said...we're not doing so hot." he turned to see what she was looking at, "See something?"

A moment passed before she answered, "I don't know. Something's moving out there."

"There's always something moving out there." he replied wearily, pulling up his binoculars and zooming to 50x magnification. Several moments later, and several clicks of a button on the binoculars later, he reported, "Nothing on any scanner, ma'am."

Rikan shook her head, "I know there's something out there." She rubbed her eyes with dirty fingers, "Increase defense for the next shift to orange level. I'm going to catch some sleep-eye."

Each shift of watch lasted 12 hours, usually designated and ruled by reports of hostile activity. The higher the alert, the more men were sitting on the walls, watching the horizons, scanning with their scanners, and always waiting.

Making her way down from the strong walls, Rikan maneuvered through the many tents and structures that had become the homes of the Tarlachians. Always, there was the sound of blacksmith tools being used to refine weapons, the occassional sound of soldiers training themselves with one another, and the smell of meager meals wafting over the stale air currents.

Upon reaching her tent; something she demanded to have despite her position; she pulled out a RTE meal and ate it sitting upon her cot. Once she was finished, she cleaned up and was soon asleep, however lightly.

Not exactly necessary.

Dodge huffed as they were lead through the ship, noting the comment. He would expect such comments, Imitoran military forces often showed up in force, and were used to such snide remarks.

"Well, maybe its why we don't lose," one of the two black clad guards chuckled. The other laughed along with him.

Dodge raised his hand, and the two silenced. The rest of the walk was silent from the Imitoran side, Dodge following the escorts through the ship to the briefing room. Dodge would let his thoughts on the Tarlachian handling of the conflict go till a later time, and he would most likely joke along with the men of the 105th that accompanied him. However, now was not the appropriate time.

I've gathered us here to discuss upcoming movements, as you are aware. I need to know when you're prepared to depart, how many strong, and the likes. Then, we'll send word to our earth-bound friends, get them in on the situation and have them coordinated.

Dodge watched over the holomaps, observing the lay outs. Enemy locations, numbers, freindly locations and numbers, everything he could want. He nodded, and looked over to Aeris.

"I can land about six thousand troops in the next hour and a half, that doesn't include armor units. Mostly special operations forces, the 105th, the 69th, and the 22nd SOTF. Not a major forward combat force, but enough to tear some shit up. Their best operation would be in support of insurgant forces, with the armor supplementing current armor forces in the area." He made no mention of the Arbiters, the top secret unit wasn't to be revealed to anyone outside the command structure unless given expressed right by ONI and possibly the President.

He looked back over the map, noting possible landing sites and operations.

"In a few more hours, I can bring in eight hundred thousand combat troops in two Assault Fleets. After that, it would simply just be giving word that we need another fleet or so, and four hundred thousand troops would be on their way in. Both infantry and armor corps. With the ships in the fleet, we'll be easily able to bring the fist of God down on these demons."

He paused again, watching the images float through the air. "Of course, I'll need all this information, to go. Need to run it through our own comptuers and what not."

"I can land about six thousand troops in the next hour and a half, that doesn't include armor units. Mostly special operations forces, the 105th, the 69th, and the 22nd SOTF. Not a major forward combat force, but enough to tear some shit up. Their best operation would be in support of insurgant forces, with the armor supplementing current armor forces in the area."

A newly arrived officer crisp in midnight blue with gold accents that matched the spill of bright golden hair shook her head.

"Admiral Dodge, I am General Merideth Hexx and I do not know how much help the Tarlachian insurgency is going to be. Our information on their capabilities and numbers is sparce. I have it on good authority though that their only technological weapondry is what we have been able to ferret into them. The demons don't consider them much of a threat apparently, as they've never made any serious moves against them in the past decade."

The General listened quietly as Admiral Dodge laid out how many men he had available for the coming action.

"In a few more hours, I can bring in eight hundred thousand combat troops in two Assault Fleets. After that, it would simply just be giving word that we need another fleet or so, and four hundred thousand troops would be on their way in. Both infantry and armor corps. With the ships in the fleet, we'll be easily able to bring the fist of God down on these demons."


"We have only twent thousand on the ground right now, but we can match your numbers in possibly less time, as we have a million troops in the solar system already. And the Desitter drive can have a second base, with full troop strength, here in in hours. Admiral, we specialize in mechs and air superority. And most of our mech are LAMS. Might I suggest and equitable division of effort- you take the ground we'll take high guard and keep their flying troops off of you. We can drop pinnances directly down to your troops so there will be no supply lines for them to cut. Plus we can handle medivac with ease. Our medical pinnances are hospitals with wings and are as armed and armored as a combat ship." General Hexx offered.

"Of course, I'll need all this information, to go. Need to run it through our own comptuers and what not."

Before he could be asked what format suited the Imitoran's best...

Another figure, anonymous in crimson robes and veils enterd "We may have the start of something. Abaddon summoned Lillit and threw up shields. I could not break that sheilding so I have no idea what he's sent her off on."

The low almost hills that the camp sprawled over were all but barren, though here and there small copses of stunted trees struggled to survive. The trees of the Aria forest had not given up completely. Lillit his herself among them, watching the camp closely, angered that some one there had seemed to sense her presence. Minutes passed and no one investigated more closely.


She smiled as her form shifted to that of the young woman she had slain hours ago, stokeing her inner energies with the victims soul. The girl had been so foolish, so unwary. She'd been too eager to return with the large amount of fruit she'd found that she'd not paid the necessary attention to her surroundings, and Lillit had been upon her before she could react.

Lillit picked up the basket and with steps that were both tired and hurried at once scurried toward the heavily fortfied gate that pierced the high wall that surrounded the encampment. The guards and other watchers looked her over carefully as she approached, but they had seen the one whose guise she wore leave that morning with the others assigned foraging duty. She was early, but the basket she carried looked heavy.

They called down to her and she answered, holding up the basket so that all could see that it was filled. Pleased they began to unblock the gate so that she could enter. She made her plan carefully. The eleves watching along the dry stream bed might sense the energies emanating from the device she held in the hand that was ostensibly holding the bottom of the basket.

When she crushed it in her fist the explosion would be enormous, breaching barriers both physical and magical. It had been created for her by one of Arithons mages. He'd been eager to please her, hoping for recognition of his skills. He didn't need that recognition now. Lillit smiled cruelly. She didn't like Arithon, didn't feel that they had any need of him, and trusted him not at all. And didn't mind weakening him, no matter how minutely, at all.

**************************

Far by some standards, but not all that far as one of Arithon's grunts could travle when at full speed, a large force sped in a disorganized manner to the lines held by the Tanaran 501st. This was not an unusual occurance, for the demons tested the lines nearly every day. This band was even more disorganized than usual, and thought the 501st saddled up a hand of lances no one took it with much seriousness.


**********************

Lillit stood in the gateway, laughing and showing off the fruit to the guards who flocked about her eagerly. She set herself, began to call upon her own powers, for the one thing it would not harm was those that were slightly out of phase with reality, and that was one of the powers the never to be suffeciently damned Angelics had not been able to strip from her.

Else where the pack of demons, now much larger than it had seemed to be before, swerved violently, and went to even greater speed, heading directly towards the insurgents location.

Then, as the first alarms sounded in the watchers minds, Lillit took control of those minds, silenced them for a second longer, as her hand crused the black crystal and with all but simultaenity she went completely out of phase, her body just a transparent ghost. Then the massive explosion were drownding out the cries of alarm, and the wall and magical shields collapsed along an unsealable breach.

Seconds later the demons were pouring through...

The intensity of the explosion knocked many people aside, killing dozens instantly. The shockwave, powerful and devastating rippled throughout the insurgency camps. Within seconds, alarms began to blare as thousands of voices suddenly began shouting and screaming. As soldiers and armed civilians alike scrambled to their weapons, demons swarmed into the camps like a neverending wave.

Rising from the ground, Rikan groaned from the impact her head had taken. The shockwave had all but leveled her tent, hanging haphazardly as she quickly departed her tent. As soon as she was clear of the tent, she turned to the direction of the explosion and saw the gaping hole in the defense wall.

Fuck. she cursed silently, as she ran as fast as she could toward the scene. Already, she could see the demons swarming in, a black and crimson tide sweeping through and simply running over anyone who got in their way.

Swinging her katars in an almost hypnotic dance, she drove forth into the demons, slaying with a fury not seen in many years, and yet not having lost any of her skills of combat. Around her, she watched as her allies fell in rapid numbers, and those that were still alive struggled to fight for their very lives. The incessant chatter of gunfire worked in tandem to mow down incoming demons, who gave no concern to their own welfare, desiring the death of those whom they had come to kill.

As the tide of death died down and demons became slain, not by power but by defensive force and strategy, the last of them died in the midst of the crater that had spawned this attack.

It would soon be found that the demonic surprise attack had devastating toll on the defending Tarlachians. Early estimates would reveal a staggering loss of allied life in the upper eighty to ninety percentile.

**********************

Almost as soon as the demons had shifted course and began targeting the entryway in which Lillit had blasted open, allied forces on the ground within the 501st protective zone immediately blared warning alarms and sent messages directly into space to the respective authorities. A collective force was instantly gathered and sent to immediately aid the entrenched Tarlachians, traveling by low-atmospheric vessels.

Alas, the demonic wave had been so swift, so focused, and had been directed toward the strongest point of the defensive wall built by the isolated Tarlachians, that by the time reinforcements had arrived, they had only to help pick off the last few demons that roamed the bloody site.

**********************

ShaDo's transmitters immediately picked up the distress signal, uploaded the schematics to the localized map in the room in which the meeting was gathering, and linked simultaneously into real-time satellite feeds of the massacre that unfolded upon the earth beneath them.

In the conference room, Aeris's attention was immediately drawn by the flashing arrows that indicated heavy enemy transports shifting course from the usual patterns seen in the past and washing over the Tarlachian stronghold. ShadowDancer's informative input was hardly needed to understand what was happening. Her eyes grew dark, and those capable of sensing arcane energies suddenly were alerted to the fury that issued from her, swirling about her form like a tornado of unimagineable power.

No longer was Aeris the child she had been ten years prior, prone to cry at times of despair. Now, properly trained as both a leader of her people, and as a warrior princess at heart, she bore a wrath matched by few others. To those that were watching her, they saw her angelic wings, iridescently white, almost painful to gaze upon, flare into the visual scope, splitting the fabrics of her clothing at her shoulderblades. The demonic hybrids especially felt their own energies shifting into defense mode.

Her eyes blazing with a complete whiteness, watched as within minutes, the emcampment was swamped and effectively wiped from the map. She knew not how many survivors there were, but from what the real-time feeds were showing, there were too few, far too few.

At last, she spoke, and when she spoke, it was filled with fury. "Our timetable's been moved up. Initiate attacks immediately!"

"Sha'Do, contact the Empress immediately, tell her to send the second base now." Perigrine snapped.

"Open me a freq to the 501st, all Tanaran and allied forces. I want full mobilization now!" General Hexx requested almost simultaneously.

"Admiral Dodge did you wish to be back at your command ship?" Shalamar asked quickly. "I can have you and your men there at the speed of thought."

Perigrine's children had moved closer to one another as Aeris's wings manifested, and their own shields springing up about themselves.

"Lady, do you wish to be down there?" Adoni asked. He, all of them, felt much the same fury that she did, though he knew somehow that it came no where close in quanatative terms. "I can open a gate, and take us there"

Turning to the demon hybrid that had spoken, Aeris took a moment to remember his name. "Yes...Adoni, In fact, I think it's time for you lot to prove your worth to me."

She turned to Peregrine, "If it's all right with you, I'll take them down, we'll test the defenses of Abaddon's fortress, then get out of there before Admiral Dodge and his lot start their attacks."

*************

Abaddon pulled up the strong shields around the room as Lillit strode closer with a wide smile crossing her face. At the moment, she bore the likeness of the woman whose identity she had stolen to accomplish the mission. In a necklace around her neck, bound by arcane energies, was the remnants of the woman's soul, slowly dying in agony as its life-force was consumed by the demoness. Then, the portrayal shimmered, and the familiar seductive form that was Lillit's own returned.

"They are destroyed." Lillit reported as she slipped under his arm and rested her hand upon his chest. "Just as you requested. The swarms destroyed more than I expected, but not all of them."

Abaddon nodded, "That is fine. The mission was a success. You've breached their defenses, and we've killed more than enough to ever have to worry about them again."

"Unless they receive reinforcements from abroad." Lillit intoned.

"Unless indeed. But not to worry. The end is in our grasp."

Abaddon looked out the window to the dismal city surrounding the fortress, watching as powerful mages worked to increase the strength of the dome shields. The so called "good guys" would retaliate, and chances are they would strike from above. This would be the test, Abaddon knew, to see the true strength of their weaponry. If they could breach the shields, then they would be known as strong foes. But if they could breach the solid, multiple defenses of the Onyx Fortress, they would be nearly invincible.

If it came to that, then Abaddon had plans in place. He didn't expect them to possess weaponry that would be capable of doing so, but it still never hurt to be prepared.

His black-skinned hand gripped Lillit's shoulder tightly as they watched the mages work quickly.

Dodge listened intently to Hexx's suggestion, and thoughtfully shook his head. "Why seperate forces? If you have soldiers in the area, and I do as well, we should simply both use them. Seperating duties would only cause further problems for communications, and coordination. It would be easiest to use our full force available."

He watched the map, and started pointing out certain locations. "I believe a joint cross strike would be best. Create a large phyisical barrier to issolate enemy forces moving in from other locations, and simply attack the main force target. This would best be handled with..."

Our timetable's been moved up. Initiate attacks immediately!

Dodge and his two guards watched the change, making a mental note of the person. He sighed inaudably, and nodded. Despite the action in the room, his own gaurds stood fast, not reacting in any visable way.

Admiral Dodge did you wish to be back at your command ship? I can have you and your men there at the speed of thought.

Dodge shook his head. "No," he commented plainly. "That won't be needed. We can handle ourselves." He turned, waving to his guards and they turned towards the door. He looked back at Hexx and Aeris, and then to the map. "The data would best be recieved by LDT. Fastest and easiest, would allow imidiate access of the information to our targeting computers."

He watched the flare up on the map, and made his decision. "I'll be unleashing the 22nd and 69th in order to secure the recent attack site, and hunt down fleeing targets. The call will be made for my assault fleets to come in, shouldn't take long. Lady Aeris, I'll need any information you have on the insurgent forces that are left, just go ahead and send that with LDT info you have."

If it's all right with you, I'll take them down, we'll test the defenses of Abaddon's fortress, then get out of there before Admiral Dodge and his lot start their attacks.

He glanced at the map again, and then his watch. You'll have forty minutes from the time I leave the ship to get in, get off, get out. That's how long the targeting for my weapons will take, plus a fifteen minute breathing space. I hope you can work that fast. After that, I'm starting ortillerization of the target, en massé. I would recomend clearing out."

He didn't leave time for a response, but instead spun on his heel, and walked out, the two black clad 105th'ers following. The walk back to the Pelican was short, and soon, it was off, heading back towards The Fall of Athens.

Dodge was already handing out orders from the Pelican, and as soon as it landed, he was out, and a full platoon from the 22nd SOTF was loaded up. The mission was to drop five platoons, near 200 men, from the 22nd, as well as 150 of the MBRs and twenty M808B Scorpions from the 69th. The call had already been made via sublight comms to the Groombridge system, he would have an extra eight hundred thousand men ready to combat drop in a short period of time.

The main target, however, was the big black castle he had plans for. The forty minutes was actually a bit long. He could have rounds comming in on target in less than five. However, the added time would allow the ship's AI, Fragrent Gennesis to compensate for position, air temperature, wind speed, air density, atmospheric conditions, and other small bits of information that would perfect the ortillery's accuracy. Normally the targeting was accurate within three hundred to four hundred yards. With weapons of this scale, that was plenty accurate. However, with the added calculations, the MAC guns would turn into nail drivers, bringing the massive rods in on target on the same impact point time after time.

Of course, with the hellish rain that would soon be falling, accuracy wasn't all that important. The AI had already contacted Dodge twice, it was ready to start shooting, but Dodged brushed it off. He would let the drop forces see what would work, and then when they were gone, he would hit it every thirty seconds with a one hundred and fifty yard long, thirty five yard wide rod moving at forty percent the speed of light.

Dodge was soon in the command room of the Athens requesting authorization to use the Arbiters. He wanted to show the demons on the ground what real killers were like.

A young corporal sprinted down the hallway, his boots thumping on the floor as he barged his way past dozens of orderlies and aids as he made his way to the primary command center of the Republic of the Golden Simatar Army. He crashed through the door, an MP tumbling with him, he had just run into him and kept going. Heads turned as he stood gasping.

“Gen…General Lussier!” He gasped, saluting with his right hand to the man with the five stars on his shoulder.

General of the Army Nicholas Lussier, a rather thin man with graying hair and calm hazel eyes returned the salute. “What is it corporal?”

The corporal stumbled forward and handed him a blue piece of paper he had been carrying. “The demons…have launched an offensive…hitting the Tarlachians and Tanaarans, its coming all over the wire.”

Lussier grasped the paper and read it quickly. “Does the navy and air force know about this?”

“Yes sir…got confirmed.”

“Alright…ladies and gentlemen, time to get everything rolling. I hope Jorgensen gets this.”


Fatal Terrain Inland Sea
II Fleet of The Republic of the Golden Simatar Navy
Admiral Richard Jorgensen Commanding

GSN Poseidon: CVN-77 Class Aircraft Carrier

The klaxon blared throughout the ship. The sailors raced back and forth inside the ship, delivering weapons to the aircraft waiting below the flight deck as the crews got into their gear and went over their targets. A pair of pale blue eyes stared at the smooth flight deck as a F22N’s engines heated up before the pilot opened the afterburner and the catapult sent the stealth aircraft barreling down the deck, the aircraft quickly entered the void of space and the pilot quickly pulled up on the stick, sending his aircraft into the air.

Admiral Richard Jorgensen’s eyes traveled from the flight deck to the four ships in his fleet, all were brand new stealth boats, including his carrier. The superstructures were smooth and they were covered with radar absorbent material. It was the new Simatarian Navy, stealthy and deadly. Now, they would be put to the test and he hoped they wouldn’t be attacked, yet he felt full confidence in the crews to do their job.

He heard another roar as another aircraft was shot into the sky, a squadron of F22N would remain with the fleet in case of an aerial attack while the other aircraft headed for the mainland to strike targets in support of the Army and Marines.

From the news he had received, the demons had attacked and the need to divert attention was given priority as the timetable was pushed up. This canceled the plan amphibious attack, thus negating the need of his cruiser’s and destroyer’s guns. He was slightly disappointed with this, but the fact they were actually going to battle was a little exhilarating. But, he kept this contained and acted like the professional he was.

“Sir, I got word from the Megalodon, confirmed orders.” A lieutenant said.

“Good, hopefully Valentine can handle her.”


Depth: Twenty Meters
FSSN Megalodon Glothlin Class Stealth Attack Submarine
Captain Helen Valentine Commanding

“Captain, we just got word from Goblin and Mako, confirm orders and that they will begin to take up firing positions in one hour. Orca is heading down too as there is no need for her Tridents.”

Helen Valentine turned and nodded to her communications officer. She was thirty five, with an athletic body, and fiery red hair tied up under her blue baseball cap. Taking a brief look at the orders in her hands, she turned to her dive officer. “Chief make your depth zero-nine-zero meters, we’ll come up to firing depth in on hour.”

“Aye ma’am…making my depth zero-nine-zero meters.”

Below the waves, the 410ft Megalodon began its descent into the depths, her crew checking her weapons systems over and over again as they prepared to unleash her missiles. Like her sister ship Megamouth, they were the first of the Glothlin Class Stealth Attack Submarine, both barely five years old and their class would begin to phase out the Virginia Class submarines.

To a casual observer, the Glothlin’s looked like a leviathan airplane that made a ditch in the sea. It resembled a F117 Nighthawk and though it appeared to be cumbersome and slow, the Glothlin’s two NCP42 magnetohydrodynamic drives could propel the boats at nearly forty-two knots at full speed. Its underbelly was fairly flat spare for slight bulges from where the water would be shot out, propelling the submarine forward. Its body covered with radar absorbent materials, they were the result of years of experimentation in stealth submarine warfare.

Besides their stealth, the Glothlin’s also packed a heavy punch with six bow torpedo tubes, a single stern torpedo tube, and ten vertical launch tubes. Across the spine of the ship was ten hexagonal shape panels arranged in two rows of five, the vertical launch tubes primarily carried Tomahawk and TS179 thermobaric missiles, but if the situation called for it, a modified TS179 that instead carried a single nuclear warhead. But, for now it only carried five Tomahawks and five TS179 missiles.

Valentine looked at the clock on the wall, watching as its red numbers slowly counted towards launch time.


Baltimore Air Base
1st Airborne Corps Head Quarters
General Andrew Pepper Commanding

Baltimore Air Base was the center of three air bases that housed the whole of the 1st Airborne Corps along with its planes and equipment. For the last several months, the paratroopers had been undergoing tougher training everyday as they prepared for the expected drop into Tarlachia. They had been briefed on their targets, two large bridges, each spanning a different point along a massive river. From satellite images, the structures seemed to be in good condition despite years of neglect. Both bridges were also key due to they were where the roads converged and the armies could begin to link up.

The first Codenamed: Apollo would be handled by the 17th and 83rd Airborne Divisions as it was the largest of the pair and would be the first to be captured by Simatarian forces. Apollo was also where Army Group A and C would link up before pressing towards Turath. The second, Codenamed: Mercury would be seized by the 63rd Airborne with the 1st Ranger Regiment and once Army Group B arrived, they would continue to move towards Turath and link up with Army Groups A and C along the way.

To the paratroopers, there was a sense of excitement in the air, they would be the first paratroopers in years to get a combat star on their jump wings. They also liked the fact that so many of the trees and vegetation had been destroyed by the demons, as this allowed a much larger field for them to land in and would allow more room for the transports to deposit the armored vehicles without much worry. It would also allow more soldiers to be dropped so that they would be in stronger force that much quicker and be able to fend off attacks.

“Yes sir…I understand sir. Thank you sir.” General Andrew Pepper put down the phone, he had just gotten off the phone with Lussier. His eyes turned towards the preparations down below on the airfield, knowing it was being repeated at the other two. Thousands of men and women were loading their packs, checking their weapons, checking their parachutes, checking their friend’s gear, loading vehicles and supply crates into the bellies of the transports as they prepared for the expected drop.

Pepper turned around and looked at his four generals. “We’re going. Get everyone set and loaded. The defenses have to hold. As soon as you land, organize your regiments and get them dug in on both sides of the bridges, tight as ticks and hold until relieved. To keep the offensive on time the bridges must survive.”

The officers nodded in understanding and the commander of the 63rd Airborne Division Ted Stonewall spoke in a slight bit of a light hearted voice, but with a serious undertone. “As long as we don’t end up reenacting Arnhem at my bridge we’ll do fine.”

Pepper nodded at the obvious reference to the near destruction of the British 1st Airborne Division and the Polish 1st Independent Parachute Brigade at the Battle of Arnhem Bridge during Operation Market Garden in 1944. Both units suffered heavily with the 1st leaving Arnhem with only around two thousand survivors out of nearly ten thousand men.

Stonewall’s Division as well as the Rangers would be a much smaller force and the possibility of another Arnhem, or worse, was known. Pepper had hammered into Army Group B commander Isaac Pitt of the need to reach Mercury Bridge as soon as possible. Hopefully they would get there on time.

As the generals left to do last minute preparation for the drop, Pepper turned back to the timetables. The fact of thousands of demons, strengths and exact numbers unknown was factored into the tables. Paras at Apollo should be reached within four days and the troops at Mercury should be relieved in three to five days.

If not, he hoped to God the resupply drops were on time.


Army Group C
132nd Armored Division
General Ezekiel Hakha commanding

Russo sat in her tank, tense. The clock was slowly counting down to the launch. Her tanks had been topped off with fuel and with ammunition, the infantry around her was already getting the last of their gear stowed aboard their APCs and trucks, the mortar crews were ready to open fire as soon as the word was given.

The offensive would open up with an awesome artillery and rocket barrage, the bombers would penetrate into Tarlachia and start bombing their targets. From what Russo knew of the bomber’s targets they included old Tarlachian underground facilities, from storage to military as well as any structures or strange formations that seemed artificial. Once the targets were destroyed by bombs and missiles, the bombers would begin to attack known demon staging areas once the creatures made themselves known.

A few miles behind the line, the vast array of artillery was preparing for a creeping barrage. At first it would seem static, covering a several hundred meter area ahead of the barbed wire, but once the tanks began to roll and got closer, the artillery would start to adjust their fire, moving the zone of fire steadily forward, ahead of the columns of armor. With the power of modern artillery and the vast stores of ammunition, the barrage could last for several miles before the smaller artillery was hitched up and moved forward.

Russo looked at her watch, ten minutes to go before the second front opened. In the skies all along the Simatarian line, thousands of aircraft from fighters to helicopter gunships made their way forward. “Alright Peter, start her up.”

Russo felt the Leopard rumble and the reassuring roar of her engines. She seated herself on the rim of the hatch, looking left and right down the lines of tanks and armored vehicles. Off to her right she knew the 666th Armored Division would be on the 132nd’s flank, the irony of the 666th’s number was not lost on anyone.

Russo looked at her watch. Five…four…three…two…one...zero.

The ground rumbled as every artillery piece the Simatarians had opened fire in complete unison, out to sea missiles rocket from the ocean depths from the submarines as well as those launched from the ships.

Russo braced herself as she heard the scream of the artillery shells and rockets. She didn’t need binoculars to see the massive wall of soil that shot skywards as the shells landed. The explosion noises blended with the roar of the artillery firing and with the aircraft moving overhead. Russo looked up to see only contrails and some shapes, but knew among the contrails and shapes were the paratrooper transports…her first objective.

She gripped the rim of the hatch as the artillery continued to tear away at the Tarlachian soil.

Russo looked at her watch, a brutal one hour bombardment had gone on and it was time to move. She raised her right arm and swung it around before slamming it forward like the tank commanders in the movies, only this time it was real. Russo slid down into her seat, her head still sticking out of the tank as the Leopard lurched forward, going over the front of its pit and into the open.

Thousands of Leopard tanks and armored vehicles up and down the line lurched forward in unison and began to move towards the defenses. In perfect coordination, the vehicles formed columns as they drove down along the highways, the safe parts in the massive minefield where they could drive through.

Russo turned her head, her first platoon was right behind her along with a platoon of grenadiers in Bradley's and Humvees following. To her left and right, columns of tanks and APCs moved steadily. She turned her attention to the wall of raining soil that began to draw closer. She smiled as she got word that the shells began to move farther away, slowly, steadily, clearing a path for the infantry and armor.

Russo smiled as Peter pushed her tank a little harder as it broke through the mass of barbed wire and into the waste lands of Tarlachia, making hers the first to enter.

The second front was open and the Simatarian offensive had begun.

Lord Arithon had been pondering his recent conversation with Abaddon when one of his many scouts appeared behind him, the lesser demon's appearance not lost upon the demon master.

"What news do you bring?"

"It was as you predicted. The attack on the Tarlachian stronghold has put things into motion. There is word of movement in the west and forces mobilising from above. Many of these humans come in spacecraft."

"Indeed. We are to cocentrate on the east for the moment, what news of it?"

"Forces from The Golden Simatar have mobilised and are moving towards Turath using an artillery to clear their path. Their technology is far less than the enemies of the western front yet still a threat."

Holding up an open skull within his hand, Arithon looked into the black liquid within, a pure darkness that seemed absorb all light into its bottomless abyss. Under Arithon's gaze the liquid shifted to show him an image, the scene of advancing Simatarian forces. Pondering the predicament for a moment, Arithon finally turned around to face his minion.

"Have all the underground cities been reinforced by the spellcasters and secured?"

The younger demon nodded, anxious to please his master. Pointing to a map within the skull, Arithon highlighted a specific location.

"Relay orders that I want a large offensive force waiting there. Mostly combat units but provide enough spellcasters to maintain control of the situation. As for the Simatarians, dispatch a unit of Mamoths to greet the the advancing forces. I want them to charge straight for them."

"Of course."

Indicating he was done, Arithon turned his attentions back to the skull whilst the smaller demon disappeared once again.
___________________

2km ahead of the Simatarian advancing force

One thousand Mamoths seemed merely step into existence as they became visible to the naked eye. Right behind them were twenty spellcasters, their eyes flaring with arcane energies as they sealed the void behind them. They knew very well that what they were about to attempt was suicide.

Of course it was all for the good of the cause and disobeying Arithon meant far worse fates than death. Each spellcaster brought their palms upward and released a small orb, no bigger than a tennis ball, into the air. Without a word these orbs shot forward, heading straight for the Simatarian line. Whilst Arithon was able to scry events almost anywhere, the lower level arcane demons required some form of viewing device.

Using the orbs as their eyes, the spellcasters watched the enemy line advance and prepared their troops. It wouldn't be long until Lord Arithon's plan was set into motion.
__________________

Underground Tarlachian City

The city seemed to shake mildly as the Simatarian bombardment passed overhead. Earlier it had been bombers but now the orbs saw the main force. Tanks, armoured transports, artillery devices and aircraft. The humans were certainly throwing a significant force at them.

The commanding spellcaster was a reasonably young demon by the name of Gol're. He was a competent warrior and spellcaster, yet not highly important amongst the ranks of commanding demons. Nevertheless, Gol're did his job and did it well, hence he was chosen for the mission.

Nez'gah's scratchy voice chimed in within the demon's head, ensuring the final orders were understood.

"Alright, once the signal from the surface is given I want everyone out there. Force your way through the ground, teleport as many as you can. They need to get out there, quickly."

"How many am I getting?"

" One hundred thousand. It may or may not be enough but Arithon wishes the bulk of the Tarlachian horde to be up near Turath under my command. Consider yourself lucky, the Simatarian technology is rather primitive compared to that of the Imitorans and other assorted enemy nations."

"Understood."
_______________________

The Simatarian front

No doubt many of the Simatarians in the front line couldn't understand why the demons before them would simply charge towards their artillery fire.

As the giant creatures approached it could be seen they were easily a storey in height and probably weighed at least twice that of any tank within the Simatarian army. The creatures boasted bulging arms that ended with massive blood stained claws. Evidently they were not agile creatures but they could certainly run towards the enemy at high speeds.

Whilst the soldiers expected the massive creatures to be cut up in the constant line of artillery fire, this was not the case. The spellcasters has moved to the side and using the pinpoint accuracy of their scrying orbs were able to establish a shield several metres above the ground where the shells would normally strike. It was only think in width and merely provided enough cover for the demons to make it past the artillery line, once again being open to fire. It was time to send the signal.

Seconds before the signal, Gol're's forces had appeared through a number of portals. A large range of combat breeds ranging from basic grunts to Mamoths and even flyers. Gathering the other spellcasters under his command, Gol're gave the orders and all hell broke loose.

Thousands of demons disappeared in bright flashes and appeared upon the surface, in front, amongst and behind the Simatarian forces. They were quickly followed by thousands more pouring through the constructed exits that had been carefully hidden under spelled illusions whilst other demons simply moved through massive holes in the ground opened up by their arcane commanders.

Immediately the flying demons took to the air, their main objective to knock out the artillery with concentrated fireballs. Whilst the tanks were formidable machines, their effectiveness was severely reduced when demons would appear directly behind them, intention ripping the machines to pieces.

Gol're's forces had the surprising edge, only time would tell if it would prove the deciding factor.

Russo looked through her binoculars, so far everything was going according to plan, and the 132nd had pushed eight miles into Tarlachia and had yet to see any demons. Where they all occupied with the Imitorian and Tanaaran forces? But, she had a feeling things were going to get started sometime. Word had already flashed through the Allied Forces and messages went straight to the top that the Simatarians had begun their offensive.

Russo took a sip of water from her canteen and looked behind her. Hundreds of tanks and armored vehicles and thousands of soldiers were behind her. She knew off to her right and left, between the Simatarian divisions were Stryker units, aided by satellite and UAV video feed, they kept the flanks in check.

Russo put the canteen back into the tank and lifted her binoculars again. It was then she saw them. They were not like what she had thought, maybe twice as tall as she was…but these things…were gigantic.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Button up!” Russo cried as she ducked back into her tank and slammed the hatch shut. “This is Tiger Black E Oh-Eight…we got enemy, lots of them, huge fucking buggers. Deploy into battle formation.”

Almost instantly, the alarm shot through the whole of the division and it quickly began to form to battle positions. Russo looked through her viewing port, knowing her two platoons were forming up behind her, along with the rest of the division, infantry was being deployed with missiles and machine guns…and the monsters were well within range of her 120mm cannon.

But, the artillery would dispose of them, they were walking right into it. What the fuck?! She watched as the shells exploded just above the heads of the monsters, none were being affected. Magic, only explanation. She usually didn’t believe in that stuff, but she learned the world could only get stranger before it got more normal. Well…taste this mother fuckers.

“Fire!”

The Leopard barely shuddered from the roar of the gun and the 120mm shell shot through the air and smashed into the ribcage of one of the Mamoths in the lead. The demon roared as the round tore apart its rips, heart, and its organs. The beast tumbled forward as other tanks opened fire, many striking their targets.

“Fuck! They’re among us!” A cry burst through Russo’s headset. She panned the small camera on her turret and cursed as she saw thousands upon thousands of smaller demons intermingled with the 132nd Division. The APCs and lighter armored vehicles swung their machine guns and 20mm cannons inside, blasting in short bursts at the demons. The infantry fought with everything they had, bullets, grenades, even bayonets.

“Bring that damn arty closer in! Prevent any other fuckers from getting here. Get us some damn air support!” Russo heard the voice of her brigade commander Lewis Gavin bellow over the radio.

“All Black Echo company.” Russo said as calmly as she could. “Keep shooting those huge ass mother fuckers and run over any of these small shits that you happen to see.”

The tanks began to maneuver, to draw the Mamoths away, while continuing to fire their guns at them, bring down or mauling several dozen more within minutes. It was also then Russo noticed the artillery has stopped firing.


Back at the main Simatarian defense line where the artillery supporting the advance of Army Group C was located, the alarm was raised as a large flight of flying demons was seen. Three squadrons of F-22 Raptors were inbound to deal with the threat, till then the artillery had to rely on the anti-aircraft defenses, which, despite advances in missile technology still had plenty of heavy machine guns and Gatling guns.

The 155mm field guns continued to roar until the first fireball struck a cannon dead on, the fire washed over the crew, but the exploding ammunition prevented them from suffering any further pain. The swiftness of the first attack had stopped almost all of the firing of the cannons as the humans rushed for G36 assault rifles and other weapons to aid the air defense.

Up in the clouds as the demons moved in, ready to take over the Simatarian weapons, something caught the eye of the leader. The demon turned and screeched as a long spear impaled him and it tumbled from the sky. Down on the ground, the humans would wonder why a gigantic icicle was sticking through a demon.

The demonic flight turned, something was coming from the sun. Within seconds, a flight of ice dragon dove in, firing their liquid nitrogen like breath, more ice spears, and slashing and tearing at the monsters. The flight moved straight through, no stopping for battle. The number was only thirty, but the surprise of the attack had given them a slight edge, allowing them to kill or maim at least twice or three times their number.

Darius roared and led his clan flew back up towards the demons. The dragon had slipped out of the Golden Simatar some time before, to check up on the status of his clan. They were slowly building themselves up again. But all yearned to return home to Tarlachia. Before he departed, word reached them of a demonic attack on an allied base inside of their homeland. The dragons knew it was time to help take back their home, despite only thirty were combat ready, Darius agreed to lead them into battle. He had already decided to help the humans from the Golden Simatar, knowing they would need it most.

The dragons were traveling forward towards the sounds of battle before they saw the demon flyers moving towards the main Simatarian line. Though the demons were several hundred in strength, the dragons knew they had a slight edge and would cause all the damage they could.

Darius had decided to simply dive on the demons, go straight though doing as much damage as possible with surprise, roar back up and engage. Despite the dragon’s fury and obvious danger, only a small part of the demon force stayed to fight, which still outnumbered the dragons, as the rest moved in on the artillery. Fireballs smashed into guns, trucks, rocket launchers, and even single soldiers, the explosions ripped apart more equipment.

The returning fire was heavy, but the demons enjoyed some superior for several minutes before two AIM-120 missiles vaporized a pair. The demons turned as sixty Simatarian F22 Raptors began to grow in size, some peeled off towards the heavens were the rest of the demons were while the others stayed at a few hundred to a thousand or so feet where the rest of the demons were. Nearly a dozen flashes were visible under the aircraft as more missiles came the demon’s way.

This time however, the demons had more time to dodge and only one was hit by one. The Simatarian pilots knew that the missiles were going to be hit or miss affairs. The heat seeking Sidewinders were left on the ground in exchange for another two AIM-120 radar guided missiles, they would be more accurate as the heat signature of the demons wouldn’t equal that of a fighter. But, several Raptor pilots had optioned to carry one new type of Sidewinder; the heat sensor had been altered to lock only in on a far lower temperature, which hopefully would lock in on the demons, but thankfully wouldn’t lock in on other fighters.

Still, the Raptor’s 20mm Gatling gun would be its primary weapon in this battle. The Raptor formation broke up into pairs and the battle for the skies continued.


At the time that Russo’s tanks were moving, a Mamoth turned at the sound of thousands of angry hornets, only to be faced with a large flight of aircraft and a line of red. The 30mm rounds quickly made hamburger of the Mamoth’s face. As the other monster quickly became aware, the sound of hornets mixed with the already chaotic sounds of battle.

A squadron of twenty A-10 Thunderbolts roared in, housed in the nose was a GAU-8 Avenger 30mm Gatling gun. The first flight of four aircraft thundered in. The pilots fired burst after burst of rounds as they strafed the leviathan creatures, killing and mauling several dozen in their first pass. The other flights lined up for the attack, but now in addition to the 30mm slugs, several pilots locked on with infrared and fired AGM-65 Maverick missiles at the Mamoths, tearing off huge chunks of flesh as the warheads exploded.

Once their initial pass was over, the A-10s broke into pairs and began to unleash hell upon the demonic forces below. With such vast numbers compared to the size of the division, thousands of demons were outside of the main field, pushing inwards as others were cut down or Simatarians repositioned themselves.

The A-10s were not the only aircraft in the air. Another squadron of Thunderbolts screamed over the demon army sitting outside of the Simatarian line and unleashed a spread of MK-20 Rockeye bombs. Seconds after deployment, the bombs peeled back like a banana and thousands of one pound bomblets ripped several long lines into the demonic infantry as 30mm slugs continued from where the bomblets left off.

Added to the A-10s, Mi-24 Hind F attack helicopters came in support of the humans and like the A-10s, they began to file down the demonic forces outside of the ring of defenses. The Mi-24s, nicked named TAS or Tank Aircraft on Steroids by the Simatarians that flew them, covered in rocket and machine gun pods swept in, each one of the armored giants unleashing a furry of fire that would send a normal military running for cover. One Hind went after the Mamoths, killing a pair with a volley of 57mm rockets and AT-6C missiles before being brought down itself by another Mamoth, which leapt up and managed to rip off the tail rotor. Despite being able to absorb almost any small arms fire thrown at it, the Hind was brought down because of loss of the tail rotor. The helicopter spiraled out of control and smashed into the trampled grass, exploding in a brilliant display of fuel and ordnance eruptions.

Meanwhile, RAH-66 Comanche stealth helicopters, their internal weapons bays out and in the open concentrated on giving more direct support to the troops. With the Simatarians activating strobes on their vehicles and putting some on the ground around a perimeter that slowly grew stronger, the RAH-66 pilots were able to see where their own forces were more clearly as the strobe showed up on the helicopters heads up display. Then, they helicopters would roar in, using rockets and missiles when their own forces weren’t that close and their 20mm three barrel Gatling guns when more direct fire was needed.

The aircraft kept coming in defense of the 132nd, relieving pressure from the troops so they could form a better defense perimeter. But for a brief minute, the aircraft backed off, but the reason quickly became clear as towers of dirt and demon bodies rose from the ground. A quick look into the sky by the spell caster’s orbs revealed the ugly outline of B52 bombers and the sleek outline of B2 stealth bombers as they dropped their payloads in a ring around the troops, acting as a temporary artillery for a moment.

As soon as the last bomb had fallen, the A-10s, RAH-66s, and Mi-24s were at it again. As the battle went on, they were joined by AC-130 gunships, which took a ring formation up in the skies. The gunships opened fire, tearing a ring of fire around the 132nd, acting as a substitute artillery.

As the attack aircraft continued to support the infantry and tanks, a squadron of F22 Raptors danced with the flying demons that remained as the fought to gain air superiority.


As the battle went on before them, a demon spell caster spotted something odd in his orb off to their left flank on a rise five kilometers away. It was a Leopard 2E cresting the rise of a small ridge. The orb moved a little higher and at first it seemed to be to be nothing more than a small recon unit that was rushing back to aid the 132nd. But, the force behind the ridge was quickly revealed to be dozens of phalanxes made of tanks and armor vehicles, three brigade’s worth to be exact.

The tanks were of the 666th Division, that was advancing six miles away, but as soon as it heard the 132nd needed help, the commander ordered three of his six brigades to immediately rush there to aid the 132nd while his other three screened the advanced and guarded the flanks.

At the same time, another spell caster’s orb spotted something eight kilometers away on their right flank, more armored phalanxes moving across the plain at full speed. Two brigades of the 33rd Armored Division of XVII Corps, which was on the left flank of the 132nd and V Corps had arrived. The 33rd’s three other brigades were covering the advance of the advancing brigades and would reach the battlefield to reinforce the 132nd and elements of the 666th and 33rd shortly.

There was no pause as the tanks of the 666th roared down the slight rise and were quickly level with the main forces. The ground shook as the tanks rumbled forward and in unison, their guns roared and 120mm shells rained down upon the outer ring of demons and straight into the flesh of the Mamoths.

It became immediately clear that the humans were committed to nothing short of complete eradication of the demonic force.

Time to bombardment: 00:37:41

There was a slight glimmer of light just inside the old city walls, then all was normal as the elven woman and her hybrid entourage appeared upon the surface, moving quickly to the fortress. Aeris knew that allied attacks on both fronts would garner more attention at the moment, and an indirect attack from a small insertion team would be hardly noticed.

She intended to not be noticed at all until it was too late for Abaddon and his minions.

Taking cover behind the remains of a destroyed wall, she focused her attention on her own persona, and within moments her entire form had taken on the illusion of a demonic mage. Looking to the hybrids she smiled with dark teeth, her face riddled with runes. To those of the enemy unknowledgeable the sibils of light magic, they would think that she was one of them, mistaking her sibils for dark magic.

"Let's move." she commanded, "We need to find some weakness, anything that can be used for our benefit." With that, she issued commands to disperse into groups of two, all to approach the onyx fortress from different directions. She would go with two of them, the two strongest ones insisting that she needed protection. Without giving grief over this, she accepted and they all departed to the routes assigned.

Time to bombardment:00:28:56

With Aeris, she had the two demons that were closest resembling Abaddon and Lillit, with Adonis moving forward ahead of them as would be expected of an Abaddon look alike. They passed through the several security stops, their guises proving to be more than what was necessary to remain undetected. Adonis' strange knowledge of the passcodes to get through the stops caused both slight alarm and relief in Aeris' mind.

At last, they gazed upon the fortress, watching the various troops that were milling about, and observing the utterly countless sigils that covered the massive structure that seemed to pierce the skies like a blade.

Adonis nodded to Aeris, mocking Abaddon's voice and command, "You see that spot there?" he asked sternly while pointing at a rare blank spot of the fortress high above their heads, "I want it fixed! I will not tolerate incompetence!"

The Lillit-clone then spoke, "Perhaps our powers as well, my lord, will help strengthen the defenses."

Aeris nodded in agreement, her eyes silently praising the female for catching on to the game that was being played. Adonis nodded positively a moment afterwards, and together the three of them focused upon the demonic structure, casting wave after wave of arcane spells toward the structure. To any observing demons that had heard the conversation and watched their progress, it was an impressive display of arcane power and strength, and the laughter of demons was mixed with dark cheers and approving growls.

Time to bombardment:00:11:04

Hundreds of spells had been cast toward the structure as the time wore on, nearing closer and closer to absolute open warfare, courtesy of the Imitoran pride and joy. By this time, the other hybrids had arrived, each adding their own offensive spells toward the structure, each targeting separate "blanks", much in the same fashion. Various attacks had been tested, each being deflected. For a brief moment or two, Adonis turned to the other two and spoke lowly so his companions could only hear, "The sigils are too strong, much stronger than was expected. I suggest implanting a viral spell that will break apart the shields from the inside."

The Lillit clone raised an eyebrow, "A very risky idea...but it's all we've got now."

Aeris nodded, "True. Time's running out. Hopefully it'll get the shields at least momentarily disrupted long enough for Dodge to destroy the sigils themselves."

Once she was finished, they formed a triangle, facing each other. Adonis issued a black flame that hovered in their midst, the smaller licks of flames opening up as if it were a container. Into this, Aeris and the Lillit clone poured their viral spells in turn. After several minutes, they finished, and Adonis levitated the massive fireball skyward, rocketing toward the fortress and embedding itself into the sigil layout, disappearing rapidly from sight. Several more moments passed before the first dozen or so sigils implanted by true demonic mages began to explode outward, the shield suddenly glowing in visible light as alarms began to blare from all over the possessed city.

It was in this moment that the demons surrounding them suddenly erupted in a terrifying, collective roar as they finally realized that the three of them had been covert enemy spellcasters. The three did not confront them, but instead turned and disappeared into a waiting portal, which promptly closed after them.

Time to bombardment: 00:01:15
On the observation deck of ShadoDancer

There was a terrified scream as the three of them departed, causing them to instantly turn and watch as a demon with its body severed in half collapsed to the ground. Instantly, ShadoDancer's defenses activated, and froze the corpse with an icy blast. Several moments afterwards, the demon popsickle was fired into deep space, forever to be lost in the neverending void beyond.

Aeris looked to Peregrine, deactivating the illusionary spell and returned to her true appearance. Peregrine nodded and turned to a nearby screen of which the Onyx Fortress was portrayed. They could see countless demons scurrying about, and could see a number of demonic spells were being launched into the fortress's defenses, attempting to eradicate the viral spell, to no avail.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps, causing Aeris to turn and nod appreciatively as the remaining hybrids approached, each silent, but each smiling as they indicated their mission had been a success.

In the bottom left hand corner of the screen, there was a counter, counting down the last seconds until Dodge and his crew were "go" for their piece of the action. A soft feminine voice announced the last five seconds. "Five...four...three...two...one..."

Five...four...three...two...one...

In the Imitoran command ship, the single red LED digits counted down as well. When it zereoed out, Dodge nodded, and looked at his fire control officer.

"Fire."
__

There are some who don't believe in God. Many of them soon found faith after facing the Imitoran combined assault fleets. Ortillery had been the first technology fully adapted by Imitora's growing space program in the early day, creating weapons that would launch hunks of space rock or scrap at considerable mutliples of the speed of sound towards earth based targets. Soon, the accuracy grew even closer to pinpoint, the scrap replaced by depleted uranium "slugs" or tungston ferric rods, and speeds grew to sublight portions. The horizontally fired weapons, used to engage enemy ships, are oft capable of putting rounds into enemy ships at near 40% the speed of light. In order to prevent the total destruction of the planet, the vertically fired rounds were designed to hit the planet side target at near 10% the speed of light, roughly 30,000kps.

Each ship, recieving the command to open fire, did so. The rounds all targeted the Onyx castle and the imidiate surround area, the rounds, affectionately dubbed the Rods O' Doom by the enlisted personel in the Imitoran military, began slamming into the planet side targets with nail driver accuracy. The massive, six hundred ton prjectiles ripped into the earth with unheard of ferocity, smashing anything in their way into a litteral oblivion. The rounds maintained their structure and speed through the ablative coating, tearing through the atmosphere as if it weren't there.

It was almost poetic and beautiful. A blink up in the sky, and then a heart beat later, the round slamming into the planet. The GPS and AI co-guidance system brought the rounds in close, the combined barage from the QRF bringing a round down on the target or the imidiate vicinity every four seconds.

Gol're positioned himself reasonably high above the battle, enabling himself to gain a good perspective of the battle and direct his forces when necessary. Whilst he had to admit the large sized human weapons were quite effective at damaging even the larger demons, he was confident their overwhelming numbers and a few other tricks would win the day.

As he continued to watch, Gol're was alerted by several spellcasters of enemy forces flanking their position. Energy orbs had picked up their presence and they were now within attacking range. Cursing in a language impossible for humans to even speak, Gol're relayed orders to his arcane inclined minions.

Two spellcasters separated themselves from the masses, one on the right flank of the main confrontation whilst the other moved towards the left flank. Both were engulfed in their own personal shields and thus were not concerned with the flying shrapnel and bullets that seemed to be everywhere.

Once in clear view of the approaching armoured forces, each spellcaster began chanting and dawing strange runes into the air, their actions obviously the beginnings of a spell. Within seconds it was complete and yet nothing appeared to happen. The tanks continue to fire towards the sandwiched demonic forces, unphased.

Without warning the air several hundren metres before the armoured forces began to shimmer under some transparent force, gaining speed as it formed a massive wall, moving towards the Simitarian flanking forces. Not particularly visible until very close, the wall of 'force' was merciless as one slammed into the front line of the 666th Division whilst the other hit the 33rd Armored Division. Immediately tanks, armoured vehicles and anything else in the path of these walls were tossed into the air like feathers, easily floating upwards.

Unfortunately for the forces behind those that took the main force of the shockwave, the shock they felt had been enough to distract them from the fact that their entire front line was plunging from the sky, directly on top of them. It literally began to rain tanks upon the Simitarian forces, crushing those unfortunate enough to be in the way.
__________________

Whilst the 120mm guns were quite effective at putting the smaller demons down for the count, it would take several rounds to a vital region to stop the bigger demons. With that in mind, the mammoth creatures began tearing into the tanks, uplifting them as if they were small toys are literally ripping into the steel with their massive claws.

To make things worse, the smaller demons figured that if they jumped into the air and landed upon the tanks, the humans would have more difficulty shooting them and even be somewhat resistant to fire upon their own units. Several tanks were now swarmed with the smaller creatures, cameras destroyed and even hatches ripped open to allow the agile creatures into the armoured vehicles, making quick work of the operators.

As for the aircraft, Gol're decided to take care of that personally. Muttering under his breath, there was no doubt to the Simitarians that what was happening before them was not natural.

The sky immediately filled with low lying, thick black clouds. Whenever a plane flew through the clouds it would stick to the vehicle, destroying any visibility it once may have had. Lightning also began to surge within the clouds as they spread, covering the entire sky. The pilots would soon find that radar would be useless as the lightning charged the air with enough energy to completely scramble the radio signals. It was truly a moment of darkness for the aircraft pilots.
_____________________

The dragons certainly did catch the flying demons by surprise, many of them being injured or killed. Once they did realise what was happening, they decided it best to take advantage of their numbers and so each dragon soon found itself confronted by at least three demons, all blazing eternally hot flames towards it. The heat was enough to melt any ice spears within seconds, saving the demons from an impaling.

Fire soon filled the air in almost every direction as the demons began to focus upon their winged opponents. The humans were mildly ignored for the moment although some may have noted a thick black cloud slowly edging towards them from a distant battleground.

The missile strikes were few and far between for the demons as their agility allowed them to move easily out of the path of the human weapons. Unfortunately the the machine guns were more effective and thus more than one plane may have found a demon clawed to the base, ripping open the aircraft from below.

Lussier stared at computerized map that took up part of the command room. He could see the blue of the 132nd Division slowly squeezed into a smaller and smaller area by the red of the demons. The blue of the 666th and 33rd Divisions were spreading out, encircling the demonic force and providing a lesser target for the demon magicians.

The video feed he had seen had shaken him to the core. The Simatarian Army was well equipped and could easily deal with the relatively unarmed and under armored demonic force. The humans had vast stores of ammunition in vast underground bunkers and acres of spare vehicles and parts. The humans had built up for ten years, not wasting a single dime, not cutting a single corner, anticipating everything. The one thing they didn’t expect, or at least in this capacity, was magic.

Lussier had watched as several sixty-two ton Leopard Es were thrown into the air like they were toys by some invisible wave. Other Leopards and other vehicles were crushed when they fell back to earth and at that time the divisions and spread out.

“Jim, get in contact with Cotton…tell her to send the whole of the V Corps to that area. And get me a line to the ShadowDancer.” Lussier ordered his aide.

Anger was slowly building up inside the five-star General. He knew his troops could have easily dispatched the demon force, broken them up and wiped them out. But, some force field had stopped the shells from the arty from falling around the soldiers, now some cloud had cut off communication with the pilots and demons had popped out of no where. To save one division by committing a full Corps every time they faced a demonic threat would bring the Simatarian advance to a crawl and they would have died of old age before they got within sight of remains of Turath.

Turath, the very thought made his blood boil. His troops were on the ground, making headway into the country, fighting and dying now in the wasteland to hopefully give a future to Tarlachia. Meanwhile what were the Tanaarans, Imitorians, and that Elvin princess Aeris doing?

Hammering away at the enemy fortress and to the up to the minute intelligence Lussier had, they had yet to put on company of fresh troops on the ground to hit the demons from somewhere else. This fact made Lussier, as well as every other Simatarian who knew of this boil in anger. Even with sending reports that they had encountered magic, they had yet to receive any support. And Lussier was sick of just “message received.”

“Sir, we have the ShadowDancer.” A young corporal said.

Lussier marched over and grabbed the phone from the corporal, he heard the usual ‘ShadowDancer Communication” crap and by this point he didn’t let whoever was on the ship finish.

“Look here you shit. This is General Nicholas Lussier, head of the Golden Simatar army. Now, we have been sending you reports that we are encountering fucking magic on our front and one of my divisions is completely surrounded and I should tell you now shit that we have lost all communication with our flyers as some big cloud is also shooting lighting at the aircraft and brining them down. So, I want you to this message to that pointy ear elfish princess bitch Aeris verbatim.

“I am loosing a lot of good fucking men and women right now in a battle that we need some fucking support on and that we have asked for in various degrees. We are the only ones with troops on the ground while you sit in your space ships and fire your weapons at a God damn castle. I understand the possible moral boost its destruction it will give to your people and how it will make Princess sleep well at night in her bed.

“But it is certainly not helping the Simatarian soldiers who are on the ground fighting for their lives! A whole fucking division is surrounded and I have had to commit a full Corps to save them. If you by chance every tuned into a military TV station you will know that using a Corps to save one division is a huge fucking problem.

“We are faced with this huge fucking problem as demon magicians are popping up in portals and using their voodoo to knock back my armor and give their side a huge God damn advantage. Now I do not know if I am facing merely a probing force or if beneath in Tarlachian’s under the fucking ground cities I am faced with millions of demons and so of course we are seriously fucked.

“You tell Princess to get off her pampered ass and start helping us out! Start landing your God damn troops to give us some relief as so far you haven’t done shit! Second, tell her to get some of her Harry fucking Potters down Earthside and break up all these spells and shit the demons have put and then keep them and others with my units along the whole of my front so that if there is any portal or any other strange shit they can shut it and we can keep moving on schedule as it seems we are the only ones on the ground doing anything.”

Lussier paused for only a second to look at a lock on the wall. “Tell her starting with me hanging up, Princess has fifteen minutes to stop having her little fantasies, get her magic men on the ground and start ripping these demon magic folks a new one and destroy their shit. Then of course they stick with our troops. If not, we are pulling out. The whole of our army is going back to the starting point and I will easily get clearance to start chucking nukes at free will and that will be our attack. Fifteen minutes start now.”

Lussier slammed down the phone and was greeted with applause from the men and women in the room. No doubt the President would hear and he could kiss his career goodbye once this campaign was over for possibly starting an incident concerning the leader of what was left of the Golden Simatar’s closest ally. But, in the end:

Lussier didn’t give a damn.


Darius flipped over and dove straight down to earth as a pack of eight demons leapt at him. The dragon tucked his wings in and went speeding towards earth and the orange dots from the Simatarian weapons and the green tracers that raced up past him. Darius continued to move straight for the ground, his mind racing as he began to calculate when to make his move.

Almost as the last minute, but twenty meters above the ground, he twisted his body up and opened his winds, the wind racing up at him caught in the leathery flaps and the dragon began to level off as the ground raced up towards him. Slowly the small ant shapes became more distinguished as soldiers and their weapons and he could see their shocked faces as they saw a large blue dragon racing towards them.

Darius twisted his body more, feeling the strain in his wings and body and he clenched his jaw as the ground got closer. At only a few meters from the earth, the dragon leveled off, sending dozens of Simatarians running for cover as it seemed it would crash into them. For three of the demons, that is what happened, one was killed instantly, and the other two were stunned and were quickly disposed of with grenades and 30mm shells. That still left five demons on Darius’ tail.

The dragon moved on sheer momentum, racing over the Simatarian lines, some soldiers firing their rifles and pistols at him, many of the rounds bouncing off the armor, but the sight of a Greyhound bus sized dragon sent moved to the earth. But as soon as they had passed, the soldiers were up again and firing, but with the demons in the rear, they took the rounds.

The dragon swung left, down across the vast series of trenches and across no man’s land. Darius beat his wings and turned his head, seeing only three demons now chasing him, two more had succumb to ground fire. It was then he decided to attack.

Darius swung back around and went after the smallest of the trio. The demon tried to absorb the demon and hold him while its larger brethren, both about the size of the beast would take him down. Darius put every last ounce of power he had from his dive into the attack, knocking straight into the demon, his front claws tearing right into the flesh, breaking bone and his jaws crushing the head.

Dropping the semi-lifeless body down into the vast sea of barbed wire, the demon’s weight carried it through where it landed on nearly two dozen landmines of various sizes, leaving nothing but blood left.

Darius flipped on the other two demons, both were right on top of him when he turned. He roared as he felt the fire they spit wash over his body, burning at the hard scales. The demons held his front legs and using their more bird-like feet, held his bottom legs. The trio spun uncomfortably in the air as three sets of wings beat furiously and the beasts fired ice and fire at each other while biting and clawing.

Darius knew he couldn’t hold the pair off forever, their tactic was simple, sap the dragon’s energy as he struggled and despite the injuries he was inflicting upon them, they could still come out on top. Darius lashed out, his jaws latching around the throat of one of the monsters and at that same second, the other one snapped its jaws around the base of his neck.

The demon’s bite was hard, but against the scales of the dragon, it would take every bit of energy to get through to the soft meat underneath. But, Darius’ teeth into the thick hide of the demon had an easier time. He tasted the foul blood as then the sudden sensation as they tumbled from the sky, his prey unable to keep his wings beating as it struggled to free itself.

The group smashed into one of highways, the demons landing on their back and Darius on top. The dragon pulled free with a roar, losing several scales in the process. He backed up a few feet and shaking himself off, he blew a white cloud over the demon he had mangled. The liquid nitrogen like breath froze the creature to the ground while the other leapt out of the way.

Darius brought himself to his hind legs, putting himself at his full height, showing his burnet and dented underbelly and spreading out his massive, torn and burnt wings. He wasn’t about to let pain get in the way of victory. The demon readied itself and lunged, Darius’ left leg shot forward and around, smashing into the monster’s face, ripping part of it off and showering Darius in black blood. The demon meanwhile was sent right into the minefield and on top of several more mines, resulting in the same effect as before.

The dragon put himself on all fours and began panting, he was beginning to feel exhausted, but he had to keep fighting. Darius turned and cocked his head as a large black cloud began to approach.

Sensing something was seriously amiss, Darius took off after only a few minutes rest and headed back up into the battle.


Another Comanche smashed into the ground after being leapt upon by demons. Things were now a complete hell for the soldiers of the 132nd, 666th, and 33rd. They had lost contact with the airmen and they were now fighting for their lives. Word that legions of armor was rushing their way gave them some hope, but for now they only had to worry about their own survival.

The pilots meanwhile quickly learned to avoid the almost oil slick clouds above them after witnessing several aircraft rip through them to gain height and when they came back, their cockpits were completely covered in a thick black substance. The men and women inside could only rely on their instruments, only one or two managed to break free of the stuff, the rest flew around helplessly till they crashed on their own or were destroyed by demons.

The pilots had to revert back to old hand signals and wing waggling like their forefathers had done in the wooden and paper bi-planes that had made up the first Simatarian Air Force. Despite the lack of radio and radar, the pilots continued to press their attacks. Whatever radar guided missiles they had, they fired them as simple rockets, still causing the same damage as they would if they were guided.

Their 20mm and 30mm Gatling guns meanwhile continued to rip into the demons as the pilots strafed the demonic groups, much of the attention for some pilots was on the Mamoths as they were taking out the tanks.


Russo smiled a little as another large demon crashed to the ground as a HE round from her cannon smashed into its kneecap. She heard pinging on her tank and smiled. Demons leaping on the tanks and tearing them open to go after the crew had been a problem, but after the initial shock wore off, the tanks and other armored vehicles that had demons on them were soon being raked by machine gun fire from a 5.56 G36 to a .50 M2 Browning. The thick Chobam armor on the Leopards protected them from nearly every conventional weapon that would normally knock out a regular tank. The APCs and AFVs had a thinner Chobam, but still provided more protection than average armor and were also being swept clean. The 20mm rapid fire guns were only used on the larger demons and the ones on top of the tanks, so to give the tanks little if no damage. Humvees though lacked this protection and couldn’t be cleaned.

“Fire!” Russo cried.

A 120 shell spat out of the barrel and smashed into the back of a Mamoth. Before the gun could be reloaded, Russo screamed. Her tank had jerked violently to the left, outside Mamoth had smacked the Leopard after seeing it take out several and injure several more of its brethren.

Russo held onto the control panels as the Leopard rolled over again and again, crushing dozens of demons and sadly a few humans before rolling to at stop upside down.

Russo only remembered the first two rotations before her head smashed into the top of the turret and her world went black.

Aeris growled as she listened to the transmission by the Simitarian General. While on one hand, she was pleased to see that they were doing decently despite the mishaps they were encountering, she was equally displeased with the General's choice of language. Although she was no stranger to the language he employed, she thought it to be a mark of lower intelligence almost to resort to such words.

Striding from the room, Aeris was speaking quickly with ShaDo, having her transmit multiple messages at once to all available Tarlachian troops ready for instant deployment. As she entered the airlock and sealed the doorway behind herself, there was a flash of light as she assumed her angelic phase and seemed to glow with an unearthly color. The cold rush of deep space was ignored as she flew around the large ship and within minutes was entering the upper atmosphere of the planet. As she passed through the atmosphere with an unnatural speed, she knew that the reinforcements ordered to action were now arriving via portals. Elves stood on the decks of space-faring ships that were now situated strategically in every direction around the massive fighting. Behind them, in the distance, the blinding flashes of light could be seen as Turath was bombarded by the Imitoran pride and joy of artillery.

On the earth below, Simitarians and demons alike were suddenly alerted to the presence of a high number of powerful elven mages churning together a massive bright blue fireball and releasing it toward the dark clouds that were approaching.

As soon as this was released, the elves began to unleash powerful spells toward the demons, focusing on the visual arcane relay paths of the demonic orbs, following the reverse course to the original demonic crafters. Within seconds, each recieved a lightning bolt that split apart their bodies and burned their cursed souls in a manner they were clearly displeased with.

As Aeris appeared and slowed to observe the fighting, she sent a telepathic message to all Simitaran commanders in the field. This is Aeris of Tarlachia. Gather your troops together as quickly as you can.

She watched as they soon could be seeing attempting to reassemble themselves and congregate as one large mass. By doing this, it would allow Aeris to focus on the demons alone with the attack that she was rapidly pulling into essence.

Behind Aeris, it seemed that a million stars were spawning to life, bringing an unearthly glow upon the earth. After what seemed to be an eternal time of waiting, the suns were sent forth to sear the demons and penetrate their skins and shields with a massive blast.

As the lights died down, all saw that the demons were still alive, looking down at their bodies in confusement. As they looked up at Aeris and unleashed an unholy cacophony of screams and terrifying roars, Aeris merely smiled darkly.

The screams ceased abruptly, moments before the numerous demons were exploded from within, their body parts scattering far and wide as they littered the earth like a black rain.

All fell silent as Aeris lowered to the ground and collapsed to her knees. Although the attack had been quite effective, the very exertion that had been required to do such would probably never be seen from her again. She gasped as the pain of the effort set in, her hand gripping her ribcage as she looked up to the approaching Simatarians. She could hear the victorious cries as they did so.

Rising to her feet slowly, she greeted them as her divisions of elven spell-casters assembled nearby quickly, save for a pair of divisions that remained on the ships to scan for any oncoming threats.

As she was surrounded by the grateful Simitarians, she sent a message to General Lussier via a comms unit provided by one of the Simitarian soldiers.

"I hope you are satisfied." she stated simply, "because that took more out of me than you realize. Now command your troops to keep pressing toward Turath. We shall accompany your men."

None had expected the Elves to strike, especially with such arcane force. Whilst Gol're was a powerful demon in his own right, Aeris was something beyond a mere elf and her power overwhelmed anything he could conjure.

There was nothing the demon force commander could do as the Elven mages eliminated his spellcasters, paving the way for Aeris to unleash her own attack upon his army. Fortunately he was able to protect himself from such attacks, yet the remaining survivors could be counted on both hands. Surveying the situation, Gol're realised retreat was the only option and so he gave the order.

Whilst the majority of the main demonc force had been eliminated, those attacking the Simatarian artillery were untouched by the Elven spells, still engaged with human and dragonic forces. With significant damage already done, their commander passed on the retreat signal, all were to escape through the void.

Through the eyes of any Elves, Humans or Dragons watching, the remaining demons seemed to just disappear into nothingness, no sign of any spells or the sorts to indicate they were transported anywhere. They simply vanished, leaving the battlefield silent.

Hovering in midair, invisible to all those around him, Gol're watched the baffled humans as all their foes disappeared. Before he departed himself, there would be one more little surprise for the Simatarian fools and their companions. Gol're possessed the foresight to consider many alternative outcomes to the battle, even defeat. And so he had rigged the beneath the battleground and above an underground city, with explosive spells.

Uttering the words that would activate the hidden arcane charges, Gol're smirked, placing his jagged fangs on show as the ground began to shake as the foundation and support was blown apart, right beneath the Simatarian forces. Of course there was no telling how many would perish and so on, yet Gol're felt he could at least leave the battlefield with some sort of victory.

The ground shook again and the demon discharged his invisibility spell, giving the enemy a quick glance upon his black form before he too, disappeared into nothingness.

Private Liam Wymer was only twenty and his company’s radio man. During the battle he had lost his helmet, but kept his G36C firing while his commander screamed into the radio on his back, until he was killed. He remembered behind knocked to the ground and faced with a demon nearly twelve feet tall, large fangs set in a twisted jaw and blood stained claws for hands. Wymer’s eyes grew wider as the clawed hand was raised before the demon turned its head skyward.

The young boy began to fumble with his carbine, not paying attention to why the demon was looking up nor the message blasting through his seat to solidify all positions and hold fast. The next thing the boy knew was a blue object shooting through the sky, burning away the black cloud and then an unearthly light flashed across battlefield, coating everything and everyone.

Wymer’s eyes were shut. Did a bomber drop a nuke on them? He didn’t feel his cells suddenly erupt and his body vaporize, so that meant he was still alive. He opened his eyes to reveal the demon still standing above him, looking a bit confused and bewildered. Wymer charged his carbine and fired off a burst, clipping the monster in the left shoulder. The demon roared and turned back to the young man, but the only thing Wymer got was a blast of black blood on his rifle.

The demon backed up, looking stunned as his body began to pull apart before finally erupting. Wymer flipped himself over and covered his head and along with the juicy pop behind him, the air was soon filled with the noise of demons bellowing, giving out their last cries of anger and pain before being dying.

Wymer turned his head; only the massive feet were left the monster. He smiled, and then cries of joy rippled through the ranks of the Simatarians. He stood up, feeling a slight burning sensation on his ear, he batted at it and felt it on his hands, he wiped it on his uniform and saw a tiny bit of fabric melt away. “Fuck…shit is corrosive.”

Wymer didn’t have time to think about it as he saw a woman collapse to her knees just off the edge of the field. The young man began to jog towards her, not noticing the other soldiers moving towards her. As she lifted her head, the boy recognized her as Princess Aeris of Tarlachia. His heart leapt, the Tarlachians had come to their aid. Another solider recognized her too as suddenly the cries of “Long live Aeris!” and “God Bless the Elves!” shot through the ranks.

Wymer was the first to get to her and she grabbed the receiver on the radio that he had strapped to his back.


Lussier smiled as he got the word from Aeris of what had happened. He was watching live feed from a UAV circling above and couldn’t contain his smile and the cheers from the room caused him to shout back.

“You got it, we are moving out!” Lussier hung up. Things were now beginning to look up; the demons at the main defense line had vanished, along with some strange white reptile heading into the clouds the flyers said they saw. The line would solidify and some of MLRS and medium and heavy towed and self propelled artillery would begin to move forward to support the advance. Lussier got on the line with Ezekiel Hakha, commander of the 132nd. “Ezekiel how is your division?”

Hakha’s gruff voice came back across the line. “We are pretty badly mauled. No estimates as of yet, we are trying to reform right now and get a move on. I can say that we are in need of a lot of vehicles and men. Probably a third of my division is out of commission due to various reasons and the rest is badly banged up but can still attack. I suggest a rendezvous with transport carrying armor…what the fuck!?”


Wymer smiled at Aeris as she returned the receiver. “You…don’t know…how fucking happy we are ma’am.”

The young soldier pulled out his canteen and guzzled down about half the contents before offering it to the elf. It probably wasn’t the classiest thing to do, but being covered in dirt, grime, and blood of comrades, class had nothing to do with anything.

Around them the vehicles that could still be used in the offensive were being moved out of the kill zone and troops were removing the injured, support units would have to collect the dead. Aircraft began to fly back to base as planes with full fuel tanks and weapons racks too their places. Black Hawk, Chinook, and Huey medi-vac helicopters were inbound to take the wounded back to aid station. The 132nd along with the other two divisions were regrouping and would be ready to move out again within no more than half an hour.

Wymer’s grin disappeared as he felt the ground rumble beneath him. “Da hell…?”

The soldiers looked at their feet as the ground began to rumble and then slowly crack. The realization of a possible underground attack or a demon caused earthquake quickly began to dawn on the still hyper alert soldiers, but the word didn’t get out fast enough.

Wymer was the first victim.

He felt the ground disappear from under his feet and he screamed as he fell backwards, watching as Aeris gave way to sky, the to the upside down view of his comrades, then dirt, a smaller Aeris, smaller sky…he tumbled for nearly fifty feet before radio hit an underground boulder, stopping his descent.

His eyes opened and it took him a second to get his bearings. He looked upwards and saw a shape high above him at the edge of the crevasse. Wymer’s eyes focused as dirt began to rain down on him as the object began to slip. His heart raced as he recognized the shape of a Gepard anti-aircraft tank entering the crevasse and tumbled down.

Wymer just had time to open his mouth and scream.


Above the field, airmen watched as soldiers began to make a beeline for the ridge on the right side of the field and the plains on the other side from where the 666th came from. The vehicles that could began to race away while vehicles trapped by debris were simply abandoned as the crew leapt out and began to jump upon vehicles running or simply ran on their legs.

The airmen watched as long cracks began to appear in the earth before large chunks of dirt began to fall away and the abyss began to engulf abandoned and destroyed vehicles, soldiers who didn’t get away soon enough and wounded. The nightmare unfolded before them and seemed to take hours though only a few minutes had elapsed.

Hakha, a man in his mid fifties with a snow white beard stood on the edge of the crater as his soldiers began to enter, trying to locate survivors. He turned as an aide in his Humvee offered the receiver to his radio. “Nick?”

“Ezekiel? What the hell is going on down there, I can’t see a damn thing? You reform your division?” Lussier’s voice came through. Back at HQ, feed was being disrupted and Lussier could only see a large group of tanks and men on either side of the battlefield.

Hakha tried and failed to hold back tears as he spoke. “General…I have no division…”

As the feed was switched to another UAV, Lussier could see what Hakha meant. The 132nd was now a shadow of its former self. It had entered combat with seven brigades, but now, at least half if not more was now at the bottom of a crater or simply could not continue. “Ezekiel…get what remains together…I’ll have a rendezvous with transports ahead of your column with fresh troops and tanks. I’m getting engineers along with the medi-vac birds to try to find survivors. Link up with the 666th and continue with them.”

Hakha acknowledged and hung up. He relayed the orders to anyone left in his shattered division that had a radio and as the V Corps began to reset itself and the 33rd began to shift more to the right flank to link up with the XVII Corps again, Hakha got word of the state of his command. At the very best now, they could muster only about two brigades plus change. Still, a lot of the vehicles had taken a lot of damage during the engagement, so no telling how many would break down and for the soldiers that could still fight, most would have to piggy back on the armor till fresh transports vehicles could be brought up.

Hakha turned his attention to Aeris, who was pointed out to him by one of his aides. The General marched up to the elf and once she turned to him, he drew himself as straight as he could and saluted.

“General Ezekiel Hakha…commander of the 132nd Armored Division. Or what is left of it.” He offered a weak smile as he lowered his arm. “I cannot thank you enough ma’am. If you need you may ride in my Humvee. I see you have your own ships, you might have to use them for whatever troops you might have on the ground as our own will be covered with our own men till we make a rendezvous with aircraft carrying fresh armor.”


Darius and his clan slipped through the Simatarian lines and back into the TMZ after flying through the clouds. The group reassembled in a forest, far enough away from the humans where they wouldn’t be seen, but close enough so that they could be over the main defense line within a few minutes if the demons launched a surprise attack. It was here they got to see who was missing. Nine of their number had been brought down during the battle, one due to a stray Simatarian missile. Darius looked at his group.

“We may either continue or we may return to our families. Though you have picked me as your leader I cannot order you to an almost certain death. Things will only get harder as there are millions of more demons still in there and resistance will only get worse as we press deeper.”

The other dragons looked at each other, a young female stepped forward. “We already said we would do what we could to save our homeland. And we indeed to follow through with what we said. We lost nine of ours, but we killed dozens of theirs. In the grande scheme of things it isn’t much, but we were able to give the humans a chance. If we all have to give our lives in giving the humans time to deliver the final blow against these monsters…so be it.”

The other dragons nodded and stomped their feet in agreement. Darius looked them over, wings were damage, scales ripped from the body, one had lost an eye, toes were missing, parts of tails…but they still wanted to battle and do what they could for their homeland. As well as exact as bloody revenge as they could against the demons for destroying their clan a decade ago.

Darius nodded, but unlike the human commanders, Darius had his clan rest. Three went on guard while the others curled up and were out within a few seconds or minutes.

Darius was one of the first to go on watch. He would allow his clan maybe an hour or two of sleep, just enough to recharge some before they flew into Tarlachia.

Aeris nodded in appreciation to the General, then looked down at the canteen still in her hand, the last exchange she had shared with the radio supplied soldier. Sighing as she subliminally felt the souls passing on by into the vast expanse of the skies above, invisible to all, and visible to her only when she activated the multiple parallel universes sight.

"Thank you, but no, I will travel with my ships." she replied to the General, "Let's get a move on while they're still numb from our attacks."

With that said, she gave a command into the skies that ushered one of the ships closer. A leap upward, and she was on it's outer deck, overlooking the cratered battlefield.

"A costly victory..." she muttered to herself. When the war was over, she would send out crews to excavate the crater, return the bodies to their respective homelands.

Turning to the direction of Turath, she watched as the last of the Imitoran bombardment subsided, leaving a massive pillar of smoke rising up to the heavens.

"Move out." she commanded to a soldier nearby. "Send scouts to scan the earth for earthen traps of any type. If any are found, destroy or disable them. The rest of the forces are to move with the Simatarians, provide air support and serve as advanced observation."

______________________

Deep within the ruins of Turath, smoke, fire, and the smell of cremated flesh rent the air with such a putrid essence that even the hardiest of soldiers would have recoiled and evicted any recent meals.

There was a shift of rubble bulging upward, then it subsided. A second later, it exploded upward and outward, a smoky black orb rising upward containing three individuals. Inside, Abaddon looked skyward, his face bloodied considerably, even his body painfully hurt. Yet, he was alive, as were his love and their offspring.

"Cursed be you, damned mortals." he rasped. "Your names will be on my list."

The orb shuttered from sight, slipping into an alternate dimension, appearing moments later next to Arithon. Only then did it disengage, emptying its travelers to their feet.

Abaddon stepped forward as he looked at Arithon. His face was scowling, his eyes ablaze with white hot fury.

"Curses to them! They're going to converge on Turath. Let them. Then, we'll send out everything we've got there, destroy them all at once in one fell swoop!"

Alrighty Boyos, lets finish this up, what do ya say? On an off note, one must realize that I have RETCON'd the original ortillery strike and force size estimate. The five day long ortillery strike has been RETCON'd to a five day long arty barrage. The forces would have been stationed in the area by this point.


Fire control forward observation base, Arithonian Held Tarlacia

The barrage had lasted five days. For five long continuous days, 155mm and 20mm high explosive, cluster munitions, plasma warhead, and ablative anti-shielding rounds fell from the heavens onto the Dark Castle. The men of forward observation base, more of a small lying up position just a few hundred yards away, watched as they called in artillery strikes, adjusting fire for effect positions, and took their place in the mayhem.

The incoming fire wasn’t designed to destroy the fortress, but to break the will of the demons manning the position. That, and what damage was done and those who were killed would make the force on force operations much easier. The ablative rounds were doing the most damage as they punched through the force field around the castle, and then came screaming in to impact with the deadly force of a 200mm artillery round ripping into brick and mortar. The holes created in the shield were left open for moments as a few lucky HE and cluster shells made their way into the field, wreaking their own havoc.

At the close of the fifth day, the rounds stopped falling. The sky was no longer wailing from the death whistle of a heavy artillery round falling from the sky. As the rounds came to a stop, the shooters from the 23rd Special Operations Group, Republic of Imitora Army, Reserve, pulled back from the observation position. They left nothing beyond to tell of their presence, beyond a simple calling card: a playing card. The Ace of Spades.
_

KMAV-998-AU94

The KMAV was quite possibly the single most popular love child of the Imitoran Central Intelligence Agency. The KMAV series of satellites had been used by the ICIA to do everything from sending emergency communication messages to allies to launching space based cruise missiles and EMP weapons to prepare for a ground invasion. They had lost three in this excursion due the heavy presence of space based forces from the Fatal Terrain expeditionary forces. However, they had quickly revamped the collision warning units on the satellites, and all had been fixed.

Alpha Unicorn Nine Four was tasked with tracking the artillery barrage unleashed by Imitoran forces. It had been sending back live footage for all five days to ICIA observers, who then forwarded the video caps to an IMSEPCWAR expeditionary force preparing for a forward assault force on force operation. The videos were in multiple formats: IR, Heat Imaging, Normal View, Electronic Spectrum, and every other sort of special viewing mode one could conceive.

The images all showed the same thing: the shield had gone down. The expedition operation was a go. Alpha Unicorn Nine Four was quickly reconfigured to handle its new role of recording the upcoming battle.

_

SpecWar Forward Command Center, Refugee Camp Center, Tarlachia

The SpecWar FCC had been quiet in the past few hours. Normally a flurry of activity, the helipads, motor pools, and weapons ranges were now quiet and empty. No roars from MH-60I War Hawks firing up their rotors, no backfires and crank pops of the Land Rovers, Hummers, and FAVs being worked on, and no staccato from the range as shooters sighted in their weapons. It was indeed oddly quiet.

The FCC had been set up in the Refuge Center against the wishes of many. Most felt that the presence of a war fighting unit stationed among refugees was begging for disaster. However, when a recent demonic incursion had pushed into the camps, the presence of some of the best warriors from Imitora proved invaluable. Between a MEF (Marine Expeditionary Force) stationed in the area, the RIA Pathfinders 1st Battalion, and the ultra secretive 1st SOGD-D, and more than just a little help from IMAFSOC close air support, the demon incursion forces were pushed back with minimal casualties to the refugees.

Further, Imitoran outsider enlistment rates had skyrocketed. The refugees had been displaced, and many of the younger ones, both male and female, were angry. The Pathfinders and Marines played on this anger, urging the displaced Tarlachians to take up a rifle for the fight. And after picking up that rifle, they were urged to just sign up for nothing major, just a short four year term. No long term commitment needed, just four years to see if they liked it. Few of these new recruits would see combat in the Tarlachian theatre, those that would were not part of this new excursion.

However, despite the quiet around the outer fringes of the FCC, there was intense discussion inside the tent that served as the briefing center. The platoon Sergeants and Chalke leaders from the Pathfinders; pilots, Air Force CSAR, and Forward Command Controllers from IMAFSOC; and the shooters from the 1st SOGD-D were all piled into the tent, watching holographic maps adjust and change over the area. There was an odd hush among the shooters, many of them watching to figure out the best way to carry out their operation.

At the front of the room stood a single man, Gen. Gerald Fletch who, if his BDU blouse bore the patches of every combat unit he served with, would have more patches than many military units combined. He had seen combat in just every war Imitora had fought in his life, and he now held the title of COMFATTEROP, or Commander, Fatal Terrain Operations. His sole job in the Imitoran Military was to direct force on force operations in the theatre. And this force on force would be the crowning achievement. When he and his field commanders finally stopped their own discussions, the room was brought quiet, and attention focused.

“Alright boys, time to get the game face on.” He took a quick look around the room, and, satisfied at the presence, started the brief. The holomap at the front of the room began to evolve and change, showing separate angles of attack and possible operations.

“What we have is a standard assault siege. Well, as standard as fighting a group of hell spawned demons can be. We’ve been artying the castle for the past five days, so we have a good portion of kills already handled. We aren’t expecting anything representing surrender, so don’t worry about using your quick cuffs. However, we do have some targets, and a general idea of what we need to happen.”

The screen changed to show three images. Three unique separate faces. “These are our main targets. Abaddon, Lillit, and a third entity known only as the child. This info has been relayed from Tanaran units, but we’ve been picked for the main assault. We are closer and have a better chance of operational security and success; after all, it’s the specialty of the units present.”

The screen image changed back to the castle, and the brief continued. “Right now, what we have worked out is a lock down plan. Nothing in, nothing out. We’ll be using two full companies from the one bee tee Pathfinders. First one is going to be part of Storm group, the other will be the Charger group. We’ll cover Storm here in a second. Those of you handling Charger will be taking the lead in the ground convoy. At one hundred meters from the target, you will break away and head on to a new set of way points about due north east of the main castle. KMAV over flights have shown a massive gathering of demons at this point here. It was a general flee group, trying to get out of cover from the castle at bombardment. Numbers vary, but we are thinking somewhere between four to five thousand, maybe more. There is a decent sized camp set up that you’ll need to attack, and seeing as you’ll be outnumbered minimum three to four against one. You have your work cut out for you. I’ll leave it up to the platoon and Chalke commanders in this room to work out a battle plan.”

He paused, then began to address the others in the room. “Storm group will be moving in to the actual castle grounds. We are expecting some damned fierce resistance once we get inside. The second company of Pathfinders, plus some shooters from the 1st SOGD-D will be moving in, room to room looking for the face targets.” The screen of the holomap jumped back to show the faces of the three main demons. “Its gonna be fun in there, so we all need to keep our heads about us. It will get close, messy, and dangerous going room to room, so remember your operational training.”

“The Pathfinders will supply main point security, taking out the courtyard, and engaging any main forces. This will clear out for the Delta shooters to move into the main body of the castle with three platoons of Pathfinders. We want to try and take our targets alive, but if we can’t, well, so be it. IMAFSOC CSAR in MH-60Is will provide over watch, and before the convoy rolls in, we’ll have MH-6I Little Birds armed with mini guns, RAWS, and rocket pods come in for sweeps. Each full platoon of Pathfinders will have a Forward Command Controller attached to call in strikes.”

“Full over watch will be provided by four AC-130Is, call signs War God one through four. Along with the three CSAR birds, Guardian Angel one through three, we’ll also have two birds up with a detachment from the 3rd Special Operations Group. Each A team will be tasked with emergency quick response, and will mostly be providing counter sniper work. They’ll also be watching for runners if we have any. This generally forest like area just to the south will be a drop point for another SaD A team. And that’s the idea. Any questions.”

There was a general murmur among the unit commanders, when a hand, belonging to Ryan Fortier, a.k.a. Snake Eater, from the 1st SOGD-D, popped up. “Yes son?”

Ryan dismissed with proper greetings and address. Unlike most in the room, the Delta shooters often dismissed with standard order and organizational proceedings. And unlike others in the room, he didn’t wear the standard BDUs, but a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and some flip-flops. “Yeah, how long do we need to worry about deployment?”

“Operation shouldn’t take more than a few hours, but prepare for full scale combat. We’ll also have a QRF force, but in all irony, its about two hours away. A full armor brigade, XIV corps, air cover, the works. Just might need to call it in before we get any problems.” There was a general laugh among the units in the room. “Anything else?”

The same hand went up. The shooters of the first tended to ask a large number of questions. It was what allowed them to be so successful in their operations. “What is the weapon status? I mean, I know that we did ok against the past incursion, but what can we look at kill wise.”

“We’ve all seen the kills,” Fletch replied. “The 6.5 Grendel that the Pathfinders use and the 6.8 Remington that you Delta shooters like are both more than enough to take out a demon with a standard kill shot. The DMRs will be using the 7.62 standard. However, snipers in all units are going to be reassigned weapons. Four oh eights, four sixteens, and fifty cals. Those rounds are able to tear a whole through concrete, I don’t have any worry about demons. Next?”

No more hands came up, the room silent and watching for the upcoming attacks. “Alright then. Listen folks, this is gonna be one nasty mission. We’re going in only a few thousand strong, no heavy armor. We will have air cover, but that is subject to its own issues. I want you wall to be prepared to fight close in hand to hand combat, and be ready to defend yourselves at all costs. It will be messy, it will be dirty, and it will be bloody. But, I have no worries that we will fail. In fact, I fully demand our success. Your dismissed gentlemen, go suit up.”

The men in the room stood and returned to their respective platoons to continue the briefing, and prepare for the upcoming battle.
_

Ryan Fortier chuckled as the men in the Imitoran Delta unit joked and laughed. They were not ignoring the seriousness of the operation, not at all, but the laughter allowed them to ease their minds before the operation. He was pulling over his combat vest, and mentally running the mission in his mind. Land on the roof, roof to door, door to stairs, stairs to first hall, room to room. It carried with it the same style as every operation he had run to this point, but with an added danger. In the past, the targets were scared terrorists, not demonic hell forms that could do God knows what.

He strapped the clips on his assault vest, a custom made number specifically for the Imitoran Delta shooters, measured perfectly, holding twelve thirty-two round magazines of 6.8mm Remington SPC Hollow Point ammunition, 384 rounds all together. Each vest also held four magazines for each shooter’s heavily customized SIGARMS/IMI 1911 GSR. The vests also held radios and other small needed objects that would help with the assault, such as flash bangs and fragmentation grenades. They wore no body armor under their BDUs, there was no need. There were other tactical goodies as well, each wearing a web pistol belt that held numerous pouches for grenades, ammunition, and the like. A Serpa drop leg holster held the heavily customized pistols, as well as extra magazines and an Ernest Emerson CQC knife. Ryan also carried an extra knife, an Emerson Karambit.

Each shooter also prepared their main weapons: the IMI CAR-68. The short barreled carbines were based on modified H&K416s, with heavy input from the shooters themselves, working closely with IMI and H&K to get a weapon that fit their preference. Ryan, however, after slinging his CAR, moved away from the equipment lockers, and over to the arms desk.

“Hey man, you know that with the extra weight, it’s only gonna slow your ass down,” one of the other shooters laughed. Ryan just nodded back.

“Its good luck man, and besides, nothing wrong with having something bigger than a three for a little extra protection.”

At the arms desk, he checked out one of the Detachment’s AK models. Each model was based on a Romanian or Czech made AK-47, and then sent to the US firm TAPCO for an overhaul. A TAPCO six position CAR style collapsible stock and SAW style pistol grip had been mounted, and the wooden fore-end was replaced with a polymer grip, with a mounted rail for a weapon light. The standard slant cut break was replaced for a replica AK-74 break, and a Russian Cobra sight had been mounted on a side rail.

Ryan then took a side mounted pouch on the vest, one that most used as a drop pouch for their empty CAR magazines, and stuffed it with AK magazines, loaded with steel core 7.62x39 rounds. He slung the AK over his back, out of his way. He then returned to his locker, as the rest were finishing loading out, and grabbed his helmet. The textured ProTec helmet had been spray painted tan with hints of sage, with a green Punisher skull on the right side. He checked his NVG mount, and satisfied that they were locked in properly, he, along with the rest of the team, made their way out to the three MH-6I Little Birds waiting for them.
_

It took hours at most, and soon the entire convoy began to roll. Two full convoys of Hummers and Stryker attack vehicles rolled out from the special operations center, powering towards Abaddon’s now defunct fortress. The roar of the assault vehicles was deafening to the refugees in the camp. The serene air space was broken as well, the roar of numerous light attack, transport and observation helicopters screaming over head. The War Hawks with the Special Operations soldiers climbed away from the group, powering forward of the group to start over watch. The three MH-6Is with the shooters from the 1st SOGD-D dove low, and flew in just over the heads of the lead Hummer in Storm group.
_

Over Abaddon’s fortress, three MH-6Is, armed with 7.62mm Miniguns, rocket pods, and the RAW-14, a .408 caliber rail accelerated Electro Thermal Chemical gun, started their attack runs. They came in low, sweeping over the dazed and disoriented demons, still trying to repair their castle from the artillery barrage. The rounds tore into demonic flesh, ripping bodies apart. Rockets and the rounds from the RAWs blew open holes in the brick and mortar walls, opening up entry points for the assault teams.

One was lost in the raid, nailed by a blast of fire from one of the demons. The chopper managed to get away from the fortress before going down, all on board surviving. However, they had little time, as a group of demon warriors had been dispatched to take them. A MH-60I loaded with the Special Operations soldiers and two IMAFSOC Forward Command Controllers quickly turned to move towards the crash site. The goal was to drop the FCCs to call in air strikes against the advancing horde from the ACs. It would pull one of the Specters out of service over the black fortress, but it was a sacrifice that was needed.
_

In the lead Stryker of Charger group, the battle commander watched ahead through a pair of gyroscopically stabilized binoculars. The powerful optic was capable of seeing over a mile on a clear day, and on this day, he could see the outline of the demon group his Pathfinders were to engage. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. He grabbed the communication radio, and started barking orders to the entire group. “Branch out and open. Triple echelon. I want all gun Strykers to target and engage now!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the 105mm guns on the armed Strykers opened up. The Hummers started to fall back in a third line echelon behind the Strykers. The 105mm HE rounds slammed into the ground in front of the demon group, sending dead bodies flying off into all directions. Shrapnel tore into other demons, lowering the number quickly. However, it would not be as simple as sending rounds onto targets. They would need to get close to engage the targets.
_

Storm group pushed on forward, their own Hummers and Strykers meeting little resistance till they finally breached the fortress wall. Fireballs and lightning struck out, flying in all ways towards the assault group. A number of Hummers simply plowed over the demons, and the Strykers remained outside the wall. From there, they could provide a security barrier, and began to fan out around the crumbled walls of the castle. The security wall provided two opportunities: first, it protected the Pathfinders in the castle from an outside force, and kept those inside from running. Those on the proper angled wall watched from a distance as Charger group combated their camp.

Inside the castle walls, the Pathfinders quickly dismounted their Hummers, charging into battle. The few demons still left inside were shocked and unprepared to combat the Pathfinders, and quickly found themselves over run. The cacophony of cracks and pops from the Pathfinders’ weapons filled the air, and bodies started dropping. It was of no matter what ethereal plane one was from a head shot from the 6.5mm Grendel Hollow Points used by the Pathfinders could split the head of a demon like a melon. Further, rounds from the fifty caliber machine guns mounted on the Hummers tore open demons of all types.

Fletch left his hummer, snapping up his CAR-65, and popping off a shot into the face into a demon. It fell instantly. All around him, the battle raged, and he watched as the Pathfinders engaged the demons in close combat. He grabbed the radio mic on his chest, and began delving out the needed orders, guiding his shooters into combat positions. Several platoons began searching outlying buildings, and other set up mounted machine gun positions, securing the inner fortress. He waved down three full platoons, and took direct command. “We’re going into the castle!” he barked over the roar of combat. “I want two of the Strykers to come inside the walls, and provide heavy cover fire, and tell the shooters to land!”
_

Outside the castle walls, just over a mile away, the Charger group had dismounted, and was using the Hummers and Strykers as cover to engage the demon camp. Fire and lighting bolts were slung opposite of bullets and rockets, and bodies prepared for the final charge. The Pathfinders knew it was coming, but hoped that it would be late in time, with withered demon numbers. The gunners on the Hummers and Strykers were lacing the air with heavy fire from 7.62 and fifty cal machine guns. Losses were light thus far, only an hour after the initial engagement, there were but thirty or forty out of the thousand dead.
_

The MH-6Is came storming down on top a roof top open enough for a landing. Ryan was the first off his bird, and stormed towards the door, rifle up, waiting for the rest of the breach team. He took his place at first in line, and the breacher prepared to blow a hole open for the jump in. He flicked the safety off his rifle, and made sure that the rest of the team was ready. When given the pat on his shoulder alerting him they were ready, he tapped the breacher’s shoulder, who then blew open a hole large enough for the Detachment shooters to drop into the castle. Their search was just now starting.
_

At the crash site of the Little Bird, the two pilots, wounded but alive, had spotted an incoming demon horde to claim them. They were armed lightly, each with only a CAR-56 rifle, and were waiting for the demons to get closer till they opened fire. However, their worries were quickly subdued as the MH-60I came swinging in from the North. A single man fast roped down from the bird, and ran over to the two pilots.

“Ya’ll ok?” he shouted over the thump-thump-thump of the MH-60I returning to battle. When they nodded their approval, he turned, and found a chunk of the bird to use for cover. He jogged over, and set up a small box on a tripod that resembled a pair of electronic binoculars. He pulled out a radio mic, and began speaking into it, relaying a set of numbers. Moments later, then, “right, War God Two, fire for effect.”

The ground around the demons exploded as the AC-130, circling high above, sent down massive high explosive artillery shells down onto the advancing demons. Moments followed, then the deafening crack and explosion as two white phosphorous rounds fell onto the demons. “Good kill good kill, stay on station, repeat?”
_

Ryan’s assault team was on the third level from the entrance point, and still no targets. They had engaged and killed fifteen demons already, but no major bad guys. They were lined up outside another door, this one slightly more ornate than the ones up to this point. It was the same routine that he had carried out on the past rooms: breacher takes the door with a light charge, the enter the room, associate the proper angles for take down, and if none of the faces match during the take down, they isolate anyone in the room. Isolation, of course, done with a 6.8mm JHP round.

As Ryan stormed the room, he noticed that the first face matched the shot of Abaddon. The second was Lillit, and there was also the child. In the milliseconds between the breach and his entrance, he was already demanding they get down, face first with hands behind backs. The rest of the shooters echoed his shouts, but the demons did nothing.

More shouts.

More no response.

More shouts again.

A flash.

Ryan and the team, rifles hanging at their sides, exited the room calmly. A platoon of Pathfinders rounded the corner, and noticed the Detachment shooters. “What’s happening?” one quickly questioned.

Ryan turned to the Pathfinders. “They aren’t in the castle, one of the SO teams just reported a group of runners. Keep searching room to room for anyone else that can be a prisoner, I just called in a MH-6I, we’re gonna go chase ‘em down.”

The Pathfinder platoon leader nodded, and watched as three of the Detachment shooters turned and left for the roof.
_

Fletch was getting annoyed in the room to room combat with no sights on targets, and had been searching for near two hours. It was then when he got the word. Charger group had been engaged in hand to hand combat. “Fuck it,” he swore. He began to list off a number of platoons over the radio. “Ok, everyone I just named, your coming with me, we are gonna go help out Charger group. If I didn’t call your name, stay here and provide security. I want all snipers and marksmen to move to the wall and start picking of demons.”

The inner castle had been, after two hours of intense room to room combat, been finally secured, with no prisoners. He watched as one of the MH-6Is ferried down some of the Detachment shooters, and wondered where they were off to. He watched as they walked, calmly towards one of the holes in the wall facing the forest where the fear of runners existed. One of the Pathfinders stopped them, to question them.

“We’re heading to the forest, gonna meet up with the SO guys. They have some runners and were gonna pinch them off.”

“Alright, go for it, good hunting!”

Fletch overheard the conversation, and looked skyward. The War Hawks with the SO shooters on them made absolutely no move towards the forest, nor did either look like they were to make moves towards the forest. “Hey, grab them!” he shouted, pointing towards the shooters.

The Detachment shooters stopped in their stances, and then seemed to explode backwards as the corporeal form of the three demon leaders left the bodies of the shooters they had taken. Ryan snapped out of his stunned situation, and reached for the CAR-68. It had been blown away from him, and he quickly worked the AK off his back, and flipped the selection switch to full auto. He began to pour rounds towards those who had taken him, as did the other shooters. The Pathfinders in the area opened up as well, spraying towards Abaddon and his kin. One of the Detachment shooters went down from a blast of lightning from Lillit, and a burst of flame from another demon took the other shooter.

Ryan finished off his fifth magazine in the Kalashnikov, when a blast of fire from Abaddon himself slammed into his chest. He was thrown back, slamming into the ground hard again. He was unconscious, and a near by medic was fast enough to remove the PACA style assault vest, keeping the rounds cooking off from Ryan’s body. The vest was tossed aside under a Stryker, and the ping of the light rounds zinging off the metal body of the APC sounded loudly. Ryan was, miraculously and oddly enough, unscathed. Light, hardly first degree burns had licked at his arms, and he was unconscious, but breathing normally with the occasional groan.

The medic called for a medivac, and was granted the OK from Fletch in the form of the landing Rescue Hawk. The modified MH-60I Rescue Hawk quickly shot skyward and back to the refugee and Special Operations Center.

Fletch shook his head at the loss of the Detachment shooters, but then refocused on the battle. He had noticed a number of the Hummers and Strykers loading up to go engage the demons alongside Charger group. He took command of the lead Hummer, and ordered the men out. As the vehicles rolled out, the two MH-60Is with the SO A teams landed, off loading their own shooters to assist the Pathfinders who had taken back control of the black fortress. By the time the convoy was rolling out to assist Charger group, the battle was starting in its third hour. At this point, a call went out back to the refugee center, calling for the IMC’s 22nd SOTF unit that was stationed, to begin its move out.
_

The convoy powered across the open plane, taking only a short time to reach the new battle. Charger group had been doing well, but was slowly falling to the massive numbers of the demons. At this point, near four hundred Pathfinders had died, and many more were wounded. The presence of Storm group alleviated the pressure on Charger, adding another large group of Pathfinders, all armed and ready to help their brothers.

The added sounds of rifle fire began to increase the noise of battle, and more demons began to fall. Many were engaging the demons in hand to hand combat, the machete like knives of the Pathfinders quickly cutting into the demons, the demons using their own abilities to fight back. High above the fight, the pilots and gunners of the AC-130s feeling helpless, unable to engage the demons with their guns for fear of hitting their own combatants.

On the ground, the Pathfinders were slowly gaining the upper hand in the fight, and the third hour of battle was coming to a close. Demons, not known to surrender or demand quarter, were starting to ease the fight. Pathfinders, low on ammunition and remembering their hand to hand training, were doing the opposite, and turning up their intensity. Emerson CQC knives and SOG Evolution Machetes cut through hell spawn flesh.

The equalizing factor came from afar, the snipers, armed with heavy anti-material rifles picking off demons with an alarming rate of ease. It took only one round from the .408 CheyTacs, .416 Barretts, and customized .50 cals to tear apart a demon. The one shot for one kill was an easily acceptable ratio. Slowly, surely, the battle was being won by the Pathfinders.

At the castle, it was a different story. The demons, seemingly drained of energy, were being easily cut down by the Pathfinders, many of them being executed instead of putting up a fight. Within the second half of the fourth hour, the battle was effectively over. In the fields and plains apart from the castle, demons were now falling at an exponential rate.

As the sun kissed the distant horizon, slowly giving way to the inky blackness of night, the last crack of a 6.5mm Grendel CAR-65 rang out as a final demon fell. Fletch had fired the shot. He pulled the radio mic off his vests, and keyed in to the open channel. “This is Lt General Gerald Fletch; call in a large scale medivac. Also, get the Tarlachians on the horn. I think we just got their country back.”

The Tanaran forces had swept up from the south west, the 501st leading the way as usual. While they took heavy losses, material's wise, the psimechs backed by what arcane masters the Empire possessed proved a bitter feast for Abaddon and Arithon's demonic forces.

Days of fighting nearly non stop left them drained but relentlessly they forged forward reclaiming the demon infested lands. under the command of Captain Merideth Hexx.

Shortly after dark fell and the fire fight encompasing Castle Black could be seen - as the Imitorans brought down the last demonic defenders - the survivors of the 501st - far in the fore of the other Tanarran forces - maqde one last push, bringing their mechs to form an outer security perimeter.

Captain Hexx intercepted the call from General Fletch requesting medical evac.

"General, this is Captain Hexx of the 501st. TEMS WayFollower is descending from orbit at this time. ETA of 15 minutes."

The Wayfollower, a vast Tanaran Empire Medical Ship, was a fully equipped space going hospital and her talented staff was fully prepared to handle any sort of trauma resulting from the battle.

"Please also be advised that as of " She watched the swhimmer of teleports brighten and fade." "...now... ten teams of Healers have Ported down to my position. They are identifiable by the standard 'red cross' that on their uniforms."

Captain Hexx did not relax her vigilance, though she had part of the 501st stand down.

The Healers moved out briskly seeking out Imitorans who needed immediate medical aid.

Tarlachian military figures had long since been watching the events within and around Turath upon a holograph table stationed in the briefing room of the Tarlachian battleship station several hundred miles directly overhead Tarlachia, moving harmoniously with the planet's revolution.

Currently, there was a large scale display being shown, red markers indicating demonic troops in rapid retreat or disappearing off the screen in stunning numbers. Those that escaped were trapped or followed by various Imitoran troops and eliminated. On a screen behind everyone, there was a real-time visual of the battle below, with a smaller separate screen reviewing the battle from the start.

"Holy hell. This is unprecedented." one general spoke as he nodded in disbelief and approval. "They managed to not only defeat the bastards, but also recapture the city."

"Outnumbered as well, four to one ratio. Most impressive." another spoke as he keyed a button, bringing up the real-time relay video of the demolished fortress.

"Attention on deck!" cried another as Aeris came striding in, adjusting her hair as she did so. She took a quick survey of the overview and smiled a real smile for the first time in a very long time. A few moments later, the call came in. After being informed of the call, Aeris nodded to the dispatcher.

"Aeris speaking. Who's this?"

"Lady, Major General Thomas Blane, Republic of Imitora, commander of Army Operations. I've got something you'll be pleased to hear."

Aeris smiled, knowing why Blane was calling, "Go ahead."

"Lady Aeris, your nation's in a shithole, but at the least, we've got the problem fixed. You've got your nation back."

Aeris spoke, "What of Abaddon? Lillit? Their child? Please tell me they're captured or dead."

"They escaped. We had them cornered but they possesed three of our shooters to escape. Two died, one survived, opened fire, and they fled. The survivor is in a field hospital right now, minor first degree burns, concusion, he's kinda out of it right now."

Aeris raised her eyebrows at this, "A survivor? I'll be damned. I'd like to meet this one as soon as he's well and stable. If that is all, then may I congratulate you and your men on a job well done, and know that you have the gratitude of my people till the end of time for your sacrifices."

After signing off, Aeris turned to those in the room with her. She placed her hands on the edge of the holograph geographical table and hung her head for a moment before looking at the others. "Thank God it's over." she said quietly, before rising to the cheers of the men around her. She took a com-wire, and held it up to speak into it.

"My fellow Tarlachians and dear international friends, when this conflict started over a decade ago, I always wondered when this would end, and who would be left standing. For over a decade, our nation was overrun, burned, and destroyed. Homes, businesses, and lands were demolished, turned to waste. For over a decade, these damn bastards took everything we had that we called home and gave nothing back but misery and death. Now, with the assistance of foreign nations: Tanara, Imitora, Golden Simatar, and others...it is with great pleasure and relief that I now declare to you this..."

Her eyes met those of the trusted war hawks, tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, "Tarlachia is free again. Breathe the air of freedom! The war is over at long last! Let us go now, celebrate, and rebuild Tarlachia in such a way that the world has never seen before. They can destroy our homes and our lands, but they can never destroy our identity!"

Finished, she handed the com-wire back and breathed deeply, tears of joy and relief now freely flowing down her face. They were free at last, their most hated enemies destroyed or beaten back into the hellhole they had come from.

______________________
______________________

Sixty-seven hours later.

"Sergeant First Class Ryan Mitchell Fortier IV, you have proven yourself a true soldier, one willing to risk all in the face of great danger for the sake of the greater good. You have survived possession, a feat not to be left unnoticed for very few ever survive. Even fewer survive with a sane mind. So, it is with great pleasure that I present to you this Medal of Astalder, as a small measure of appreciation from Tarlachia. Forever your name shall be in our history, the sole survivor against Abaddon."

The customary salute was exchanged before Aeris placed her hand upon Fortier's shoulder, "Should you require anything, let me know. You'll have residual effects of the possession for the rest of your life, and I know a few tricks that can help keep it under control. It's more likely though that these effects will enhance what you have already in some manner."

With another salute, Aeris looked Ryan Fortier IV in the eyes, recalling the images she had seen while touching his shoulder. He was destined for greatness, like his forefathers.

Turning to the one standing next to Fortier, Aeris looked upon the mercenary agent whom had rallied many Tarlachians under her banner, and had for a long time, stood against the flood of demons that ravaged Tarlachia.

"Rikan Tansho, for over a decade, you fought for our home, staring death in the face countless times. Your efforts in securing the future of Tarlachia shall never be forgotten. It is with pleasure I give to you this Medal of Astalder and thisMedal of Ohtar, as a small measure of the gratitude of your nation."

Once again, a salute was exchanged, and Aeris moved down the line. By the time she was finished, she had awarded another Astalder to a Simataran and Tanaran soldier.

The Astalder was the highest medal that anyone could recieve within Tarlachian circles, and very few were awarded in person. More times than not, those that deserved them, were dead. While the families would recieve the medals posthumously, it would never bring their loved ones back. The Ohtar was the second highest medal, served to those who had demonstrated beyond the norm their love of country and home.

In this conflict, a total of four Astalders, seven Ohtars, and nearly a thousand Quelfara; akin to Purple Hearts; were awarded to their honorable new owners.

__________________________________

At long last, the war that has torn my nation and my people into pieces, has come to an end. Millions lie dead, their sacrifices to be never forgotten. Yet, somehow, we have survived the greatest catastrophe that has befallen the nation of Tarlachia. My mother was right, we are a strong people in heart. Our homes may be destroyed, but they failed to destroy the spirit of Tarlachia.

It is with great gratitude that I have awarded various appropriate medals to their respective recepients, although I am fully aware that these are nothing more than the medals of recognition. If there were some way I could relieve the pains of war from those that survived, I would. Some have suffered worse than others, and the worst of them have given their lives in a bitter quest for freedom.

Reconstruction will take a long time, but we are prepared in spirit. Long have we awaited the return to our homes, and long have we awaited to rebuild what is ours. Unfortunately, at this time, reports are coming in of a mysterious disease tied into the land, a last attack by the demons I fear. It has taken more lives, so I have issued a command to retreat all civilians and military troops until this matter is resolved. It may yet still be years before we can safely place foot upon Tarlachian soil and begin reconstruction. Until then, Tarlachia shall turn its eyes to the skies and establish colonies on other worlds. A new age has arrived now, an age of exploration into the black expanse of the infinite universe.

This entry is hereby marked in memory of those that have fallen. May their souls rest in peace, forevermore.

Aeris Greenwood
Empress of the Empire of Tarlachia

The Lady of Cats Keep sent a last paper airplane to Empress Aeris...

Sorry your Majesty, couldn't track them as they...departed... but I know their, shall we say unique, signatures and will keep watch for their return. Tell Fortier, if he wants in on that hunt, just to think hard about it, or speak near a shadow, and I'll know.

Gotta run, have to go round up my herd.

And the next time one of your damn weapons brings down my house, I won't be so nice.

"In recognition of actions above and beyond the call of duty of an Imitoran Soldier, in defense of your home and the home of others, and acting in a manner befiting this decoration, I, First Speaker Cara Rydell award to you, First Sergeant Ryan Fortier, the First Speaker's Star of Valour. Further, I here by promote you to the rank of Master Sergeant, awarding you the title and all its attachments. Mr. Fortier, Imitora is in your debt."

Ryan bent forward at the waist as the First Speaker slipped the award over his head. The ceremony was small, made up only of himself, the First Speaker, the Secretary of War, and three of the seven Second Speakers. His unit was still to secret to go blabbing about to the public.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, and saluted with a crisp motion. It was his second major medal award in two weeks. "It is my honor to serve."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the First Speaker's smile turned into a hard, evil grin, and fire seemed to explode from her eyes. Her body shifted and changed rapidly into that of some mythical beast. Ryan snapped out the GSR from his dress holster, but it was too late, and soon his dress greens were torn apart, as was he, half of his body now in the mouth of the demonic former First Speaker.

Ryan snapped up, his eyes wide, pulling in what little light they could in the dark room. Sweat poured from his forehead and naked chest, his lungs pulsing hard to suck in cool fresh air. It was another nightmare, the third this week. A nameless girl lying next to him nudged at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied, rubbing his forehead. "Just a bad dream."

"Well come back down here baby, let me make it all better."

It wouldn't work. This nightmare was one of just the first of many.

Aight, I'm officialy done here. Shall we call this a wrap?