NationStates Jolt Archive

The smell was immense, intense, and unwanted, but right now the time of the great scorching months of July blazed across the landscape, almost every building with its windows flung open as the people gasped under the coolness of the their flapping porches, their fingers and their hands flipping up and down as their fans fluttered gracefully. Donning shorts and t-shirts, many of them with cold cloth wrapped around their hand, the Jenrakian people began to whimper and sigh, breathing carefully as their chests rose and fell, slaves walking about in the shade, working as best as possible under the extreme heat. Nothing was in the direct rays of the sun on the scorching lands for long, save for the occasional marching of the hardened and tolerant Temsplace that continually talked and chattered in their armour, and it was a miracle that they did not fall down to the ground under the immense heat. It was here, in this blazing heat, that the university of Archriaon laid, it’s large stone battlements and immense towers once an ancient lore and long lost tribute to those who have died in their regret. But here, as the marble walls still lurk of staunch ghosts lingering about, the halls equally and also carefully lingered of students chuckling and laughing, their pencils scratching down information as they lingered.

Each one of them was clad in the same uniform – staunch white dress pants, most likely steaming hot as wafts of sweet was pouring down in drops from their heated legs, their fingers scribbling quickly with skill as row upon row of them in quiet simper looked down, their faces in grief, their hair shallow and greasy under the sweat they poured, many of them having taken off their school jackets, and nothing but a vest and a soaked white shirt, as they tried to think in the dense and humid room.

They wrote for minutes, as slaves walked around and collected papers, the dinging of a small red bell on the desk at the bottom ringing loudly, the students looking up in full motion, their heads swinging like a unified action. From there, a fat, bald teacher stood, sitting down on his table, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, showing the greasy slobs of flesh beneath his shirt, his fat fingers drenched in sweat as he regularly wiped his forehead of its slippery coat of fat. Hs face carried multiple chins, his jacket placed on a coat rack beside his small desk, the marble pillars casting large shadows as the room was plunged in a massive tint of white light. It was hard to see the whole of the teacher, yet his size showed his rough location. His plump figure, his fat legs dangling from the table, his obese form a stark contrast to the thin children sitting across from him, their numbers in the hundreds.

“Alright, now that the unit is finished, I believe the next subject we are learning in national history is the rise of the Karbulazk.” The fat teacher said, as murmur of excitement rushed throughout the once silent classroom, the children smiling and slapping each other’s hands in agreement of the excitement this could bring.

Sitting down casually, he waited for no reply to come, and the class to retort to utter silence. “Now, the Karbulazk came into rise around the fourth century CE, and they’ve had a massive stronghold in the eastern wastelands, until they were forced to migrate north. Anybody know the direct destination of the place they migrated to?”

He waited, for there was perpetual silence, until out of nowhere a hand was lifted into the hair, followed by a thin, scrawny boy with a mat of filthy blond hair, dirt on his face, his nose full of cut marks. The teacher was taken aback by this dirty boy in his room of clean students, but he was fair and picked him. “Where, my boy?”

The boy hesitated, and then replied with a cautious and curious tone. “Heidhakros?” His voice was short and squeaky, and his filthy demeanour descended from one who was most likely a slave at one point. His family was most likely poor, and thus this white-lipped, fear frozen child slumped back as the teacher felt a stroke of pity for this smart child. No one in his term had ever answered the beginning question right, and he would have discouraged it now.

“Silence!” He yelled in a dangerous, tumultuous roar, the echo of his righteous rage hurled throughout the classroom, the students falling silent in his boom. “I will not tolerance mockery in my class! Now…” His voice calmed considerably.

“…correct. The Karbulazk moved to the west into Heidhakros, and they captured it within a series of brutal campaigns known as the Saurlin Wars. This lasted for a period of 30 years, and in this time during the Saurlin Wars a series of Ascheran and Heidhakrian refugees fled to unknown parts. Nobody knows where they are right now, and people are wondering on what had happened to these people. The Heidhakrian are a dangerous breed of people, and they are unbelievably tough, even today’s standards. The typical Heidhakrian soldier was as powerful as Lord Authaulus is today, and that’s simply just the basic footsoldier. When you grew up into the ranks, you began to become more powerful, and it was odd they lost against the Karbulazk.”

“Eventually the Karbulazk were able to deploy the first mass chemical attack against a single target, and that strongly damaged the Heidhakros to the point that their capital of Zanuzaus was vulnerable to siege. So the Karbulazk did what was logical – they destroyed Zanuzaus, and routed the Heidhakrians. They fled to the north, but the Karbulazk pursued them, and then got bogged down in a series of tribes, like Urians, the Ackliask and the Methronnmin. The Karbulazk had brief skirmishes with the Ascherans after the conquer of the enemy tribes, and they won a series of vital battles that allowed them to take much of the previously held Ascheran territories, but most importantly, they developed the idea of the pantheon being one with the government. It’s an interesting ideal.” The teacher replied, his face alight with joyous thought. “And most importantly, it is what makes us today, as Jenrakians.”

“But –“ He began again, until a swift knock on the red oak door was hard, the brass handle turned as its rusty innards were clunking, the metal parts sifting out the noise as a small large nosed and dirty haired blonde man stood, apparent that his age was barely more than his early twenties, yet he carried a demeanour as if he was eighty – his back was hunched in disproportion, his face showed a grievance look uncomfortably, and his fingers slithered and splintered about as he eyed creepily the children sweating about, their hair greasy and their shirts sloshed with sweat.

“Premise?” The teacher asked quietly to the man, as the man whispered something inaudible to the students in his ear. A grim face struck across his plump visage, his chins digging deep shadows of fear and wonder as gained a look of sadistic excitement. “We must go immediately!” He said, rushing out as the students looked about as the door closed, silence reigning supreme in the hot, humid classroom.

From the sands, a small group of archaeologists worked upon the dunes, the wind blowing softly as the threatening Jenrakian sun billowed down in droves, drones of heat splashing them in a painful, but invigorating burst of sunlight, the rays trickling as violent death through their blood, their sweat pouring down to cool their quickly burning skin, periodically falling down into their shades to try and retreat. It was a miracle that ancient Jenrakians had lived like this, in this terrible sun scorched land, this myriad of dangerous heat waves and non-existent oases. Perhaps they’ve grown soft, that they could no longer handle the dangerous slashes of the country’s abhorrent climate. Underground by day, or in shades of carpet-like fabrics hung high over their heads on stools, fans blowing softly as the cool temptation of the shades drawing them about, a cold glass of icy water or wind in their hands.

Around them tiny hamlets perched across the hills, their farmlands scorched and their waters dry, their only source of moisture coming from the deep stone wells carved deep into the ground, the holes within the earth harvested for its thick, luscious drops, as children and adults alike looked around, awaiting for the next splash to rejuvenate them. It was a hot day indeed, so hot that the heat-tolerant Jenrakians found it nearly unbearable, sweating and unable to properly think themselves. Air conditioners overheated many times, and fans broke in the humid atmosphere. From here, the archaeologists looked on, walking slightly more before stopping at an outpost to replenish their supplies.

After their stop, they walked on, until reaching the valley of Esthilian, the lowest known place in the Jenrakian empire, both mainland and offshore. A massive bruise within the earth’s majestic formations, the trench like valley shone with the small emerald glitters of greenery, though slight and only sparkling at the very most in small quantities, it seemed like moss growing on a scar of the planet that would never go away. From the highest point of the valley of dunes and trees, the small sliver of water trickling about like azure blood, it was seen that large wooden planks and entire platforms were seen. Metal machines as large as buildings were evident, slaves in chains excavating and soldiers looking about with their sleek rifles in their darkened, gruelling hands.

From the dust and wind and blows and sand, a large orifice emerged, a tongue-like sword of stone shown as the people hurried about in wonder, the teacher sweating in both the unbearable heat and in anticipation, looking at the large mountains of dunes past off in the endless horizon, not a single glimpse of water in sight. Taking out a cold splash of liquid from the blue cooler beside him, he gulped down a bottle full selfishly, before walking forwards to the edge and began to climb down the ladder that led him into the giant tan quarry. The soldiers looked as a pair followed him, their faces grim and dark as they watched carefully. The fat man rushed through the sands onto the plank, criss-crossing through and through until he reached a small platform of wood and cement, rushing down onto the sands once more he ran up to the large block of carefully emerging gold in the sands. Taking a brush off a pale slave’s eager hands, he began to softly slash the ends with the sharp points of the brush, the hair on each end like a knife of its own.

After minutes of toiling, he found a small inscription, his fingers poking around softly a bit more until larger portions revealed themselves. Wiping away a bit more of the clinging sand, he saw that the symbols were indeed Ascheran. “The curved hooks and sharp turns of the letters show the savagery of the Ascheran literature, all based on tyranny and obedience, warfare and strength. The Karbulazk are much like them, though they become much more cultural.” The fat man spoke to the slaves as if they were his students, and it was likely none of them understood him. The soldiers rushed down to follow him, their rifles up high upon their shoulders, their right hand on the sheath of their swords, silver laces running up in a flashing array of elegance.

The sand was taken off more, as the large sword began to uncover, more writings appearing as the soldiers showed evident signs of curiosity and interest on their hardened faces. “What does that say, sir?” The soldier asked fervently, as fat fingers wiped off the last trickle of sand that hid the golden words, showing the pure magnificence of the item in its glory. A massive golden sword was in the ground, large and cumbersome, runes carved all over its surface, as a small hole under it showed a possibility of a tunnel, though the attention was on the sword itself. Glass-like metals, unknown and extremely cold in the hot brazen weather, glimmering and shining as the slightly transparent features portrayed the beautiful stance this giant monument was in.

Below it, a wave of blades was cemented onto its base, a small tunnel showing an opening to a dark causeway, cobblestones lining along the walls and floor, stone bricks broken as a small tunnel with a lit torch still flickered. Wondering, the fat teacher looked as he turned to the sword, reading it carefully. “Come hither to where we sleep, to where we stay. Come to the promised land, to where he hearken, and where we lay.” With a soft end in his voice, the fat teacher looked to the small tunnel, and flashed on his flashlight.

Rushing through the tunnel, long crevasses of rock showed up, twisting tunnels and turning mazes as the soldiers on each end replied to each other.

“Squad 6-C, this Squad A, we are in the west wing of the tunnel. How is the diplomat?” The soldier asked, as the Fat Teacher took the radio and replied.

“I’m alright. Let’s keep going.”

“What is this place, sir?”

“This looks like an ancient tunnel, most likely a burial tomb.”

“A burial tomb for what?”

“Possibly the Ascheran Warlords, though why they have settled this far west is a mystery to me. I thought perhaps the nationalistic Ascherans would settle in the east, in their homelands.”

“Perhaps the Karbulazk, or the early Jenrakians?”

“No, the Jenrakians settled around the Viraigius River, remember? We are in the far northern ends of Archios. This is the borderline between Sanduras and Jenrak.”

“And how about the Karbulazk?”

“The Karbulazk, perhaps. But…no. That inscription was written in Ascheran. Whoever wrote that is Ascheran, or at the very least accustomed to the Ascherans.”

“Who are accustomed to the Ascherans?”

“Any tribe that they conquered. And our forefathers conquered many tribes. The Aurians, The Kilrianuks, The Rithos, the Heidhakrians, the Methronnmin, many, many tribes.”

“So it have been built by anybody?”

“Of course. However, I – “ With that, a static noise came blustering on the speakers of the radio. Picking it up, a disruptive slashing sound could be heard, next to a series of violent bursts of fire. Screams were chortling the signal, high-pitched and full of fear. It seemed as if a women was there. The teacher lifted the radio quickly to his mouth, and clicked.

“Anybody there? Squad 6-C, report immediately. Report!” He yelled, as a small skittering noise was heard. Losing his calm, the teacher picked up his cell-phone, and flipping over the silver lid he pressed down on the flashing buttons quickly as the green light fazed up in a shining prance. Waiting as the tone flung through his ears, he only quietly pleaded as the phone opened up.

“Hello?” A gurgled voice replied.

“Asaid, I need you to do me a favour. You say you are friends with someone who knows the King, right?” He asked warily, his voice shivering with the cold slither of the icy, frosty terror.

“Are you okay, you don’t sound too good.” The voice on the phone began, concern dotting his soft temper.

“I’m alright, just fine. Just, can you get me some more soldiers to evacuate a friend of mine? I don’t –“ With that, a figure rose and with hooked blades unleashed a painful torrent, the dial tone quiet as the heartbeat of silence only thumped through the uneasiness. From the darkness, a small tunnel full of blood splashed through, like a beckoning rain, the screams of the fat teacher quietly lingering out in pain and fear until he was heard no more, his cries of help lost amongst the bickering abyss of the quiet shadows.

From the castle of Naracuirinam, Saerus stood with wonder as he looked out the landscape, the scorching how sands burning as it enviously shifted towards his shade, provided by the large, thick pillars that stood as he walked about, his footsteps clanging softly across the cement floor. His body wrapped in a long red cape, almost ten times his size as it elegantly swished and fluttered and about, his arms tied up in a golden armour, his head adorned by a crown of blades, Saerus walked on in the shadows, only the glittering jewels upon his fingers providing the last frontier of light before fully encompassed by the uninteresting darkness.

“So quiet.” Saerus says, pouring out a small cup of cold mountain water, it’s sparkling qualities rivalling the rings on his fingers, as he picked up the golden goblet and drank it down thirstily. Placing the cup down, he walked forwards, candles still it as the fragrance along the cement hallway shone still brightly, rivalling the sun itself in terms of magnificent light. From the shadows, in safety and coolness of the shade, an average height figure rose, his arms thin and bony, his skin covered by a thick black armour, chains all over his uniform, a skull mask adorning his face as his eyes peered coldly from his blackened heart. A large arm was tied to his left arm, another on his right.

A pistol was tied around his waist, and he held a sceptre-like object in his hands, the sides of his face draped around a silky safeguard. “It is quiet, yet the Castle bleeds of fury still.”

“You speak such truth, my Lord.” Saerus said.

“Indeed. I have a message earlier from a friend of mine who requires help. How many can be spared?”

“I have a small division that is in stasis, and we can bring them out. They are not much larger than a reconnaissance group, but perhaps in the endeavours of your friend they will assist him.”

“We shall see, My Lord.”

“How is the situation in Krejeistan?”

“Your brother is going swell in his campaigns. The blood of many foes runs in his sword, and his veins are now golden with victory. Make naught of the haste in his conquests, for soon he will have more power than you.”

“I trust Authaulus. So graceful and so bold a man, he is. O, what a great Lord he is, so pretty of flesh, so vibrant and indestructible.”

“You love him much, I can tell, but much of your love is in admiration.”

“He is my brother, I am by Enkur to love him so dearly.”

“Indeed, you are. How goes your wife?”

“I have not heard from her in a long time. Where she is, I know not. What she is doing, I know not. She is a star to my life, one that shines and never stops her unstoppable sense, her radiance undeniable.”

“You love her much as well. From your bosom and your soul doth you have much love for her.”

“Yes, I do.” Saerus said solemnly. “But I forget the subject. What the deployment of the campaigns against the Rithos barbarians?”

“I believe you will be most pleased in our transition. Under the leadership of Mistress Thaurausk of Haasdra you will find her to be a most interesting fighter. She rivals Nahk in terms of military skill.”

“We shall see. But for now, rest comes deft.” Saerus said, sitting down.

Selene, the crime mistress of Jenrak and the wife of the king of Jenrak, had a hard job like her husband’s job as king. Her job has made it hard for her to be by Saerus. Ordering the attack squads of Black Dragon, her private soldiers, on un-loyal crime bosses. Too many of them she has order to killed or captured. She had an iron claw on the crime in Jenrak. Many in the small crime groups in Jenrak have gave her an unwelcome nickname, ’The Iron Bitch of the Dominion.’ A nickname that is death on sight, if a person calls her that. She has spent the couple of months away from her husband, her children for her job as the head of the Annirak Mafia. Something she had formed out of her husband’s crime empire. The Annirak Mafia has control over everything that has to do with illegal operations. Small crime groups were destory or joined into the ranks of Annirak Mafia

The only person she spent her time in the hidden Annirak Mafia headquarter was her second-in-command and her female lover, Persephone Choiseul.

“Persephone.” she said as the flame of the fireplace danced around her office. ”I’m tried of not being with my children and Saerus. You will take over every day things for the mafia. I‘m heading home.”

“Yes, Mistress.” said brown hair woman, who’s beauty equals the beauty of Selene.

”Call me, if anything bad happens.” said the pink haired woman as she rose form her desk.

I will, Mistress.” said Persephone.

Soon, Selene would be on a black Mi-35 Hind E assault transport helicopter with four of her Black Dragons in the back. Two Ka-50 Black Shark attack helicopters flew on both sides of the Hind E. They were heading home, she was heading to the arms of her husband.

As the helicopter flashed overhead in signals of blundering lights, their red tails spinning and slashing across the night like a bevy of trailing threads, these six choppers sped past the night stars as the humid day turned into a humid dusk, the sun dipping slowly below the horizon, its last gust of fury smashing in its fuming temperature upon the sands. From each chopper, each one black as the one before, as dark and shielded in the shadows of the air, a small rope was hung delicately, barely visible as it sloshed back and forth. From one of them a tall black figure rose out of anonymity as his voice gave his position away. “What’s the mission objective?” He asked to the others, as they gave him a wry look.

“To secure the headquarters of the archaeology site.” The soldiers replied with a dull, almost nonsensical motion, their tongues bored and their minds mindless. In a systematic, almost robotic like movement, they cocked their guns, and prepared to drop, the large chasm that was the quarry still shining as the golden sword lingered with light from the last spot of the sun’s demise towards the night, it’s glimmer the last shine they saw before the darkness blanketed upon them. With a soft thud, they landed onto the sands, and quickly rushed through the sands as the stars began to emerge, their swords of light shining the path towards the small tunnel that was erected. Scattered footprints still showed evidence of panic, yet they pushed on. Further launching his men into the tiny tunnel, the captain lifted his fingers as they followed suite.

“We need to be careful, and quick.” He said. “Prepare rendezvous point at sectors 4 and 5.” He commanded, as a reply from the chopper above him sprung to life. A deep voice replied.

“Roger.” With that, it clicked and the communicator was silent. Lifting his fingers, the captain once more urged the last of his men to push in, and with that, they rushed in.

Their nights were sickened at the sight that came at them, as the tunnel was cool and wet, red puddles of blood from dripping tops were a horrid sight, the sinew were like cobwebs as they seemed drenched in red dew, rubies of flesh dripping down into the puddles, the small rivers that flowed upon their knees something horrid and horrific, arms floating about and fingers like small lice seemingly skittering about, nails and teeth and eyes in pieces themselves. Upon the walls, a small inscription was written.

Dejieus Aun.

“Get another team ready.” The captain said with a frightened tone, as he trailed through the pool of blood towards a small set of broken stairs littered with corpses. From one of them, a plump figure was found, his chest torn open with hooks, his ribs scattered every and his heart missing as his veins shot blood into the air, the streaks of the red jets of blood apparent by his body. His eyes were missing, only the warm gushy liquid of the humour remaining, his ears torn off as worms already began to infest his body. His teeth were sliced off their gums, his nails were ripped off their fingers and his sinew visible beneath his once throbbing muscles.

The sight was terrifying, but the stench was putrid. “We go back up, and we launch canisters to disinfect the bodies. I don’t want anybody getting anything.” He ordered the soldiers back up the hole, but a small quivering came from behind, a series of rocks shattering, as the soldiers looked around, turning so quickly that they swiftly spun about, waiting in the knee-deep pool until a tall shadow ran along the walls, the gunfire of their shots making no damage upon its armour. So swift, so fast this new coming machine of destruction, two hooks in its hands, leaping up and down upon the first soldier, the hooks digging deep into his eyes, as they others fired violently against this demon-like beast.

“Get it!” The captain ordered, as they fired even harder, but the fiend disappeared as quickly as it came. The soldier fell down into the pool, his corpse floating amongst the others.

“Let’s get out, and disinfect this place.” The captain said, covering his soldiers in case the beast came once more.

The Hind E touched down on land pad of the castle of Naracuirinam. Out came four soldier sin black Transylvanian body armor. FN Mk.17 SCAR-H assault rifles in their hand and HK P2000 pistols on their side. Two on both side of the opening of the helicopter. The Black Sharks circled above, watching everything. The soldiers stood there, their lens like darkness of space.

There was eerie filling in the air as the Black Dragons waited. The sound of the helicopters above made it harder to hear. The soldiers stood there, the HUD in their lens displayed tactical information of the area. The known number of troops at the castle.

The eerie filling was broke as a black cloaked figure stepped out of the Hind E. A small part of pink hair cloud be seen. She walked over to the door, which leads into the castle and stops the near servant. Be it a palace guard or a slave.

”Take me to my husband, now.” she orders.

OOC:Wondering do you mind if i join in?

OOC:Wondering do you mind if i join in?
OOC: No problem. Feel free to post.

From beneath the archway of the stone doors came out a staunch, tall and almost disgusting figure. With a wracked pair of hands, visible scars beneath his bandages of rotting cloth and a stench in his voice so horrid, this green eyed man lingered about, looking at the pink-haired woman with slotted eyes. His mouth was in a gripping fit, his skin thin and stretch over his face as if he was a skeletal frame of a man draped in fine cloth, his body seeming to be completely strained as it carried the thin armour upon his body with impotence. His face was wholly covered by a cold, metal mask, his arms on his side as a small trickle of blood was hastily wrapped up in a loose end of his wrappings. Small slits in the mask were for his eyes, his steel lips a calm, serene expression, his face hidden with no emotion save through the windows of his soul.

“Well, my dear. Are you so brave as to weather this heat within a black cloak? Such burning trivial moments that the sun dearly casts could kill you.” Aulocos chuckled. He spoke with a soft, soothing tone with a tiny sprinkle of a harsh taskmaster, his voice deep and occasionally uneven yet at many times it turns into almost a symphony of words.

“Why do you need to see Saerus? Why do you wish to disturb him?” Aulocos asked, his eyes behind his mask piercing into her eyes, his stare unflinching, cold and merciless, though it was merely an odd thing to be seeing. A thin man draped in white cloth, his arms behind his back, not a single slice of flesh showing as his eyes beneath his mask was a series of emerald daggers, looking at the black shape that was Saerus’ wife.

From the camp outside the horrid stone hole, the soldiers camped out, readying themselves for the small sliver of reinforcements that would come. The sands still blew softly, the quarry massive and quiet, almost like a ghost town of its own, the only noise coming from the shaken whispers of the dead. It was still hot, and dusk was breaking its arms apart to welcome the sun, the large disk shining brightly within the lower levels of the sky. Clouds were nowhere to be seen, and no promise of any possible drops of rain within the heat-blasted desert was a very visible fact. From the camp, a small makeshift set of three tents around a tiny fire, the captain waited as the rumbling of a chopper’s beating noise encompassed his ears. He had made orders of a gassing of the area – while his original objection was to secure and find any survivors, it was apparent that something was wrong within that tunnel, that something was not to be.

The bodies laying scattered on the stone steps, the pool of blood shimmering with ruby sparkles, the sinew and bone alike all still slightly throbbing as every inch of flesh was ravaged. It was cold in there, but not a cold generated by the shadows that held such doom. The cold within that wretched tunnel was icy with death, whose kingdom they have disturbed. Nothing could have prepared them for such a terrifying image, as the captain shivered and shook slightly from the fear as goose bumps popped up in the brazen heat.

As canisters dropped down, the soldiers prepared their masks, a slight teal gas spreading out everywhere as they carried the tiny steel barrels and ripped them open, the fingers of death oozing out. Throwing them crudely and quickly into the tunnel, they heard a nasty clang, and finally, waited for the gas to seep back up through the tunnel.

“We crawl in through the gas is done.” The captain said with reassurance.

Selene turned as she hear Aulocos‘s heartbeat, the thing that Remy save for his marriage to Denise. Two of the people in Jenrak that had a lot of power, standing face to face with each other. She just looked at him through the darkness of her hood.

“The black fits me, dear Aulocos.” she said. “Why do you care that I want to see my husband?”

At that time, the smell of her children’s blood entered her nose. She looked back to see the black haired boy, Saerus, and the brown haired girl, Cassandra. “Looks like I have more important people to talk. Have a good day.” said Selene. With that, she heads over to her son and daughter.

“Welcome home, mother.” said Saerus, sometime called Young Saerus.

“It is good to be home.” said Selene. She looked over at nearest guard. “Can you lead me to my husband? Or do you have any idea where your king is at?”

The soldier only nodded his head, turning his face to Aulocos as the masked man nodded in reply, a silent gesture that could be deftly read. The soldier, looking back at Selene, nodded softly and slowly. “Follow me. He is in council at the moment, but I believe I may bring you to him.”

From the large, circular, golden laced room, the silver furniture etched as carved blocks, the drapes of velvet and red long and elegant. Sitting down on the chair, his back leaning casually against the soft leather, his armour taken off, his crown placed upon the rack, Saerus was in nothing more than a T-shirt and blank jeans. His eyes were a muddy brown, yet it shimmered now as then as if he was about to cry. He had thin lips, an average sized mouth and cleanly cut hair, also a muddy brown. His cheek showed a long scar down his left side, from the bottom of his eye to beneath his jaw. A new, fresh wound from his campaigns in the western wars against the Arguns, Saerus was struck with this brown slash during a dangerous duel.

From one of the screens, on his far left, a blue-armoured beast of a man was seen, his shoulders and his head covered in a thick steel armour, shining and gleaming as a small crackle of seemingly thunder roared outside, the man turning around slightly to look before moving back. His face was not seen, yet his voice was powerful, rugged and coarse, a crude ‘T’ shaped insignia painted all over the visible parts of his armour. A massive sword laid behind him, and soldiers were marching warily.

On the screen beside the man, a blonde-haired woman looked at Saerus playfully, a bright, beautiful smile upon her face as her eyes glimmered with utmost radiance, her sparkling lips studded with a flesh red never seen before. Her skin was slightly tanned, though by many means she was still slightly pale, but only slightly. Her hair was draped over her left ear, and her eyes were placed in a position of permanent joy. She had a small blue hat atop her pretty head, shining earrings on her ears and a sash wrapped around her shoulders. Like the man in the monitor beside hers, marching and thunderous roars were heard as lights echoed up in the window behind her. Also, like her counterpart, she seemed to have paid no attention.

However, beside her, to the right, was a woman in a monitor with a sharp, piercing look, her eyes in a serious expression, her hair long and straight, yet she had an aura of beauty about her, her glowing skin smooth and perfect, her shoulders slightly broad, yet her fiery red lips accentuating her beauty. She carried a helmet under her arms, her body covered in a devastatingly powerfully crafted steel armour, ammunition wrapped around her shoulders, a massive gun held in her left arm as her right arm was lovingly placed atop her handle, a short sword upon her waist, a giant shield behind her. She had a look of seriousness, yet she was all means a vibrantly appealing woman with vibrantly appealing features.

Saerus looked at them all. “How goes the campaigns? Authaulus,” He started, looking at the farthest monitor on the left, the massive figure of a man beneath the gigantic and cumbersome armour. “dear brother, tell me of satisfaction within Krejeistan.”

“Krejeistan is being dealt with. Barbarians are routed to the banks of Onius. I will direct my forces there and prepare for the siege in Onius. I am intent on capturing Onike intact. Then we can benefit from their technology and ideals.”

“Indeed.” Saerus agreed, before turning to the middle monitor. “Denise, how goes the commission of Eraclius? Is my old ally still faithful?”

“The riot is a difficult prospect, and I need more forces. Can you convince Rashkta to send in the Sadicistra? I am being hard pressed as the Sandurians are revolting heavily. Four cities are stabilised, yet two more remain, including the ones in Eraclius’ control. Your ally is an ally, yet he is unable to launch the reinforcements needed.”

“Very well. I will tell Rashkta to commit more forces of her own to deal with the uprisings.”

“Very well.”

“How about you, Thaurausk? Any news?” He asked to the beautiful black-haired woman. “The campaigns of the Ithrimm are dangerous, I know, but I believe I can help – “

“They’ve been dealt with.” She said coldly, with a professional tone. It was silent, almost unanticipated. Saerus regained his psychological balance.

“Very well. All of the land is taken?”

“Rithman-naar is completely taken. The Dominionites have the western coastline, but I have expanded into Vulkarx, Midun and Hilker. They are officially dealt with. The Darkkorth cult has been cut off, and they’ve been defeated.”

“Ah, that is quite impressive. Loss count?”

“20,000 Men.”

“20,000 Men? In a six million man army?”

“Correct.”

“Well, that is quite an achievement. Consider yourself ready for a promotion. I am bringing you to Haasdra soon for your celebration. Consider yourself a hero, Thaurausk.”

“I’m the wife of the king. I’m always welcome at the council meetings.” said Selene playfully. She looks down at her two children. Her flesh, her blood. Her reasons to kill off anybody that crosses her. “I will see you two later.”

The two children bowed and took off back into the castle.

Selene looked at the soldier. “You may now lead the way.” she said in calm and peaceful voice.

Near Denise was man in blue long coat, the hood on his head. He stood back and watched the soldier marching of his wife’s soldiers. The white tiger on the back of coat could be seen in scene with Denise. He looked back, showing his face to the people in the council meeting. Lord Remy, the House of Wolf’s own thief and rockstar. He smiled before looking back at the soldiers.

“My lord is in here.” The soldier said, pointing to a large wooden door, unlocked but a bevy of noise and voices were heard on the other end, one with a tone not heard in a long time.

Saerus was in a time of distraught. He was hard-pressed to keep the large lands under his control after the Sadicistra moved to the outer Ithrimm colonies. The city-states of Jenrak were becoming a strain on the military, yet they tributes they provided were astounding. From here, he was wondering on weather to raise the military and cut off the supplies.

“I believe it would be beneficial to us to keep our forces intact.” Authaulus warned threateningly. “We need them to keep our empire intact.”

“Let me remind you we are not an empire and we are a colony of Ascherach!” Saerus retorted, flinging himself up, his muscles rippling with fury.

“You know your place, little brother! I made you king, and I can easily strip you of your power!”

“Come taunt me, but save me empty threats.”

“You expansive demon child!” Authaulus cursed, before cutting off his transmission. Denise was gone as well, Thaurausk the only left.

Saerus had a look of worry on his face, lines of stress blatantly obvious on his finely carved and handsome features. “Matriarch Thaurausk, you may return to your home. Haasdra awaits.” He beckoned, before turning off the monitors and slumping down stressfully upon the couch, screaming loudly and angrily as it echoed throughout.

”Thank you, soldier. Go back to your post.” said Selene. Her voice was a commanding one this time. Maybe she had power over this soldier or not but she knew what would happen to him, if he did not follow her orders. She smiled and walked into the room.

“What is wrong, my dear husband?” she asked, walking toward him.

At Denise’ side, her vampire guardian husband stood. “I will bring to the head of this Eraclius, if you want.” he said. He looked down the hill where fifty white Kraven Capitol Police soldier stood with their GPMGs in their hands. Four black tiger claw marks painted on the back, showing they were members of the White Tigers.

“Our military is stretched. I can barely keep the lands under control. I don’t want to employ mercenaries, I do not want others to fight for us. It only robs us of the experience of warfare, yet the Jenrakian blood is strained enough. I need to finish this rebellion once and for all.” Saerus calmly replied, turning on the far left monitor. Nobody was there, only a black screen flickering as a green light splattered on and off. In a small time, the large form of his brother appeared.

“What?” Authaulus asked back coldly, looking with a pertinent rage in his voice, a fiery hatred. Saerus sighed.

“How many open facilities do you have?” Saerus asked.

“16.” Authaulus replied, without anything added on. “All open, prepared. Why?”

“I want you to get rid of the cities of Horsingra and Hourdamn.” Saerus ordered, as Authaulus turned it off, without a reply. Turning back to Selene, Saerus forced a dangerous, stress-stricken smile. “Nothing.” He said calmly. “How are you? Do you want to go out on a dinner? Us and the family?”

From the dark sands in the regions of Krejeistan, Authaulus’ own personal domains, his own personal kingdom, larger than Saerus’ empire could ever be, large obelisk-shaped facilities opened at their tops, their rims revealing jagged missiles as bright as the sun, almost like a neon sword, as miles away an identical facility erected a massive missile from its hearth, blazing up into the sky as the flare glittered in the lifeless desert. Everywhere in Krejeistan, missiles appeared up in the brazen sky, flashing like a series of dangerous, divine fingers rushing across the dipping sky in a series of beautiful green light. Almost heavenly, almost euphoric at pure sight, it raced across the top of the world with speed.

In Horsingra, at the headquarters, they cheered on as the rebel leader Isusk raised his glass to the new victory against the Jenrakian forces. His guerrilla units have placed themselves under strict care, working against Jenrakians by using blackmail, hostages and threats of nuclear deterrent. However, as he drunk, the lights of the neon fingers dazzling the sky filled him with wonder, as he silenced the group. A thin, bearded but powerful man, his body draped in a fat fur coat, an axe and a rifle in his hands, his hair long and greasy black as his face showed signs of age.

“Get the defence ready!” He ordered, as they rushed to action, but it was too late. Within seconds, the lights shone with utter brilliant, and they were dazzled to death. Horsingra, population of eight million Sandurians, and Hourdamn, population of six million, was cleansed of all human life within minutes of each other. All that was left was stench of the corpses gone to death’s kingdom.

“There is something worng. You job as king is getting you to.” she said, lowing her hood. As the hood lower, the windows began to shut by themselves. “Am I right?” She walked behind him and ran her finger through his hair. “Unless you want to go out for dinner, I will go with you.”

“I – “ Saerus began, before his cell phone rang loudly. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.” He said, opening it up as he looked at the neon flashing screen, pressing the button as its silver case slapped open. Placing it up to his ear, Saerus had a look of calm discontent etched on his face. “Hello?” he asked. He had a grim look, as the voice on the other end talked back with panic.

“No, keep the position under control. I’ll divert people to the frontier. I’ll divert them to the frontier!” Saerus said angrily, before sighing, another blast of anger raging through his body. “No, do you understand? Fine.” He succumbed, “How about this – I’ll do it myself. I’ll show you fools how its d – what?” He now had a look of fear upon his face.

“Dear Enkur, you must be joking.” Saerus said, before turning it off. Getting up, carrying his armour, taking his crown, preparing his rifle, Saerus sighed to Selene. “Sorry, I have to go. Something’s come up.” He said evasively, kissing her on the forehead quickly before walking out of the chamber, headed towards the hangar. The guards did nothing to thwart the King’s swift movements to parry his feelings for his wife.

In Haasdra, Thaurausk’s plane landed deftly upon the steaming hot concrete, as she got up and readied herself to get out. Soldiers around her, she looked from side to side before moving out of the plane into the dangerous heat, the sun dipped low below the horizon, yet it was already a flaming, gaping hole to the center of a hellish landscape. Thaurausk kept her stance, her hands behind her back, looking down as she walked, the soldiers escorting her. “Keep the perimeter maintainable. I want a six edge grid deployed.” She commanded, as the soldiers nodded.

From the tunnel, the smell of death was almost an invite, the soldiers pushing forwards, trying to get into further, but they listened to Saerus’ orders, trying to keep their position at the entrance. However, the same figure lashed out at them through the tunnel with the hooked claws, and they fired off a series of bullets, surprised that such a fiend did not die from their chemical gassing. Slashing into the first pair, the blood gushed out in the warmth of the night, sparkling in their flashing lights as another hostile shadowy figure ran out of the tunnel. Legions upon legions of these mysterious hook-carrying men began to crawl out like cockroaches, none of them being able to be killed.

Something was wrong.

Selene had a quizzed look on her face as Saerus left. Not that she did not know where her husband was going, it was that fact of what she hear from Saerus’ cell-phone. You can’t hide things from a vampire, if you are in the hearing range of that vampire. She heard every words that was said on both side. Something bad was happening.

”Always trying to show everybody that you are the best.” she said out loud, not caring who could hear her. ”Back to work I go.” With that, she pulled out a black cell-phone and dailed a number. After a few seconds, she said...

”Edward, I need to talk.”

“What is the status?” Saerus asked from the hearth of his warship, it’s speedy edges sifting through the possible storms of sand that could erupt, blasting around as he and a pair of others zoomed towards the quarry. It was still dark, the sun down below the horizon, yet he had to be quiet, be careful. From the opened sides of his war chopper, Saerus took a deep look at the quarry. There was a giant golden sword clearly excavated from the sands, yet around it, almost like a citadel, turrets and towers as tall as ever, elongated gates and glass walls leading to nowhere. A labyrinth of a castle, it’s stone surface was smooth, jagged at the corners, seemingly sharp with murder holes lining its thick stone skin. “Was that excavated?” Saerus asked, worried. It looked too perfect, without a sign of age on it to be excavated. He waited for the unwanted answer.

“No. It was built within half and hour.” His guard replied, forcing a look of wonder and fear on Saerus’ face.

“Half and hour? That?” He asked, trying to confirm his fears. Such a monument to rival Necromarnen, a castle built in a century, took only half and hour. Who built it? Who could do such marvels in such a short time? It mattered not, it seemed, as once they got close enough, a horde of arrows flashed out from every turret, every tower, spraying the night in another blanket of blackness, an army of wooden locusts ravaging earth and sky. “Keep this thing in the air.” Saerus ordered, as the arrows smashed through steel sides of the war chopper, forcing the machine to gurgle and slither down, reinforcements pushed from the southern sands allowing Saerus safety.

As the explosion flickered up into a flower of yellow and magenta flames, Saerus emerged from the crash fairly unharmed, yet his left arm was brutally slashed, a slice of metal stuck in his right forearm. Taking it out, the pain seared within him, as he threw it down. From his eyes, at the edge of the quarry, he saw an army of long, thin men, their eyes covered and their faces veiled by smiling masks, their hair long and a turban wrapped around their heads. Blood was dripping from their masks, as the bodies of the lost soldiers were nothing more than bones, stripped of its flesh. Rusting hooks and bloodied arrows on the ground showed signs of a brief skirmish, yet they dearly outnumbered Saerus and his survivors. However, the rumble persisted.

An army of steel and lead from southern ends of the sands caused a ruckus, yet the monstrous men kept their stance, unafraid of the lurking Lihure, the marching Temsplace and the thousands of Sirens working their way to defend Saerus’ position. From them, a messenger came about to Saerus, as he overlooked the quarry as well. He was adorning a crisp black suit, a pair of silver revolvers at his waist, his eyes shining and his mouth and short smile. He had a button nose, his hair was a clean blonde mat, his fingers and his hands behind his back. When he spoke, he had an angelic voice, light but fairly deep, yet still and calm at the same time. “I bring a force from my Lord Authaulus. He says he does not trust in your pride.” The messenger replied, as Saerus sighed.

“Very well. I will tell my brother thanks for his unasked assistance.” Saerus said coarsely, yet it was obvious he needed that help. He went to the quarry expecting a camp of his own – yet he found an army that emerged from the sands. He hoped of excavation – he found destruction. “Gas them all.” Saerus ordered, as the drums and canisters were launched up into the air, vials fired and entire tanks spurted out a green wave that filled up the quarry in seconds. Nothing was heard for a few minutes, save a quiet, unsteady beat, an unbroken silence. Thinking himself finished, Saerus turned around, before a shout came towards him.

“They’re coming!” A soldier yelled, as he turned around, and to his surprise, they rushed forwards up the quarry with superhuman speed, none of them harmed by the chemical attack. Leaping up meters onto the quarry’s wall, they began to crawl up and jump viciously, as Saerus’ force fired off relentlessly, firing at their heads and arms, yet they kept coming. It was as if they would not be beaten. Saerus took up his rifle, and firing skilfully at the groups that were quickly swarming and surrounding them, he jettisoned off death, yet only one was killed in his entire clip. Despite the many riddled with bullets, they kept coming, unaffected.

“Launch the fire.” Saerus ordered, the railguns, the rifles and shotguns silenced, flamethrowers unleashed as snakes of fire slithered out in slivers towards their prey, yet the armies kept rushing forwards, their rusty hooks menacing and bloody, their accuracy deadly, unmissed, their fervour unmatched. Saerus had never seen such dedication of fighting by such an army. They were driving in the hundreds of thousands, compared to Saerus’ two thousand force, yet every soldier did not stop until it alone was certain that it was dead. No matter how grave their wounds, these supernatural beasts of men would not stop their assaults until they could move no more. Many of them ran with their arms missing, biting into Saerus’ soldiers, others with entire bodies blasted apart, yet they rolled for only seconds still, spitting into the eyes of his men.

But their hooks, their dangerous rusty hooks. Jumping and latching onto men like parasites, these high-leaping barbarians dug deep into their bodies and breaking even the thick steel armour, they clung on and sliced the hard Jenrakian flesh apart. Blood was everywhere, flicked at the eyes of the Jenrakian soldiers, the Temsplace forming a strong defensive barrier, yet they could even hold out against the barbarians. Firing their rockets furiously, It was a show of lights and flame, the air hot and night sky arid. Planes above began to drop bombs and bombs against them, yet they began to avoid it, leaping onto entire Jenrakian groups, cutting them apart. The only ones who seemed to be faring were the small legions of Sadicistra that fought their unrivalled enemies with equal brutality, yet they were hopelessly outnumbered. Saerus was swamped – there was no place to flee to, and his company was quickly being decimated by the hundreds, by the minute. Who were these underground dwellers? And why were they so powerful?

Authaulus was not the only one to send forces, the Prince of Ice had his own little force. Using satellites to track his brother-in-law’s warship. After the call from his sister, Edward got as many men as he could together and heads to where Saerus’ warship was heading. He only got ten thousand that were ready and active at the time. These were the crazy soldiers of the 3rd Jackson's Roughnecks. Armed with an AR-56 assault rifle and a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol in a forest green and black set of Transylvanian body armor, they poured out of the transport as they fly low to the ground. On wheeled platforms, the soldiers hit the ground and out of larger transport planes came the big toys. M60A3 Patton battle tanks, older tanks in the Dominion Armed Forces, were moving out them. As they got into range of the enemy, their M68 rifled guns being to fire.

But all of this was happening after the Jenrakian forces were killed by the ruthless monster that came from nowhere. Out of one of the transport’s plan shot a blue crotch-rocket type motorcycle. On this speed bullet was a man in long brown coat an Eskimo would wear. As the bike near Saerus’ location, the man jumped out and the bike went flying into the demon from the underworld.

“Damn Saerus, looks like you got yourself into a pickle.” said the man, the one and only Prince of Ice. Both pistols rose at the horde of monsters with rusty hooks, “Fall back, I will cover your escape.” he said to Saerus.

In Jeviz’Kraa, enormous mobile towers were seen trudging on giant wheels towards the cities, men with hooks as weapons rushing and slaughtering people as they ran, jumping on top of men and women alike, hooking on like parasites upon their hosts, licking like dogs the soft, warm blood that trickled out of their backs, as they fall down in pain. The air was slightly green in the night from the gassings used to prevent their further attacks, yet of no avail. Napalm and Vizi-Turrets combined tried to create a dangerous wall of fire to push them back with, yet these odd invaders showed no fear. The marshes were lit with blood, the islands ravaged as smoke from the nearby archipelago causing discontent and fear.

Jenrakian warships moved up the front, but the fanatical soldiers began to claw their way to the decks, slicing up against the enemy with unbridled savagery. Jenrak was being carved apart, her people dying from a threat from the ancient world. Who were these beasts of men? These dangerous foes? Where did they come from?

Vizi-turrets began to be dropped off, their flames blasting into a giant purge, the hooked men still running forwards, their numbers never seeming to thin out, always replenishing. As the bike impaled itself into one of the hooked enemies, they fiendish creature still ran, for it still had legs to run with. Saerus did not pay attention to Edward, but the monstrous men kept running towards the group, their bloodied hooks slicing about skilfully and accurately in a dangerous frenzy. Despite their blind rage, they seemed to do no harm to each other, only their enemies. Saerus placed his crown atop his head, and sighed. Picking up his rifle, he began to fire off bursts and bursts of lead, attempting to gun down any enemy he saw, but the blackened wave of foes still emanating from the tunnel frightened him. From his radio, he heard a scream and a torrent of gushing blood splatter in the distance.

“My King! Unknown enemies are pouring out of Jeviz’Kraa! They’re pushing down through Raunin and Krejeistan!” A soldier cried, before it was cut loose from a soft slashing noise. Blood and sinew was in the air, the humid night with a fog of red about, the sands kicking up as the gunfire raged on, the enemy forcing them to resort to their swords, their clawed hooks slashing and raging about. From the midst, a series of silver soldiers dropped from a series of swift cargo planes, large blades on their ends, a man in ripped red cloth and a gaping mask shown, his eyes non-existent, his fingers long and calwed under its armour, his body thin but his speed incredible. A massive electrical sceptre was in his left hand, smacking it hard against the horde of monsters, his right hand carrying a bloodied black cleaver. From his back, his sharp black armour showed his cackling resume.

“The Heidhakrians are back. What have you idiots done?” Gelectriax asked in a furious rage, as his men engaged in battle alongside Edward and Saerus.

Edward watched in horror as his bike impaled one of the beast and he continued to run at him. Thinking quick, he shot the gas tank and made hole for the gas to leak out. Fire few more times, sparks were created and the bike blew up. Taking out a few of those men from Hell back home.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the arrive of Gelectriax and his lackeys. “I had nothing to do with this.” he said over the reloading his pistols. By that time, the M60A3 Patton battle tanks, twenty in total, were rolling down the hill that lead toward the hole in the ground. Some type of entrance. The tanks just ran the beast of men over, still firing off their cannons.

“Crow to the Prince of Ice, we coming in on your six.” said a voice in Edward’s radio. The voice was Colonel Wes Morell. At that time, the six SuF-7B Nightmare multi-role fighters (http://z3.invisionfree.com/SU_Defense_Industry/index.php?showtopic=2) shot above the head of the group. The two lead planes fired off AGM-123 Skipper II (http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/smart/agm-123.htm) at the hole, the rest of the squadron fired off AGM-154A (http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/smart/agm-154.htm) at the enemy on the ground.

The Crow squadron turned and heads back toward base after they fired ever missiles they had. Over the radio Wes’ voice came “Good luck down there.”

One of the beast of men jumped in front of Edward and went face to face with him. Edward has the throat, holding back. With the pistol in his right hand, he pushed to the man’s head. Boom…boom…boom… The man’s blood and brain on Edward’s face. Pushing the body away from him, he asked “What are these men?

A staff was stuck in one of the rampaging hooked men, blood gushing in torrents Gelectriax’s already blood stained robes, his armour smashing into their faces, yet they kept pushing forwards. Many of them began to leap onto the oncoming tanks, like worms, clawing and ravaging away at the tanks’ armour, attempting to cut holes through to the soft innards of flesh. Still, there was no sign of stopping – they kept coming, they kept rushing forwards, more and more. Gelectriax lunged his cleaver into the heart of one of the rushing animals, but it kept running, before it was kicked back. The enemy seemed to replenish with every death, every slaughter. It seemed as if from every enemy death three more sprang from its corpse, endless and unforgiving, as dangerous as the last. The three eventually were separated by the masses of foes, as Gelectriax resorted to melee combat, his silver troops slashing and smashing enemies apart, yet they kept coming. Saerus was, however, faring much worse.

His left hand was brutally scarred, his right hand bruised and his once handsome face was slashed in several places, his left eye nothing more a red gash on his face. His crown was still atop his head, but was a shining glimmer as the night was bound with noises of destruction. Swords clattered, metal clanged, and the cries of screaming pain continued.

“We need to pull back!” Gelectriax yelled to Edward and Saerus, as Saerus nodded, fighting his way to the back, before a hook smashed into his spine, a quick and painless paralysis before another struck him in the eye. As they slashed him down to ribbons, his armour was ripped apart, the metal loudly clanging, the sinew and muscles flying about in their frenzy. Gelectriax lifted his sceptre, and slashed across the area around Saerus, before taking the King’s corpse up in his arms, and urged Edward to retreat.

Saerus’ crown was smashed onto the ground, the golden arms a legacy to the violence of these barbarians.

Edward was moving back as Gelectriax called a full retreat, the missiles form the Crow squadron did their damage but the beast of men continue attacking. The Patton tanks were going forwards but without their crews, the only thing that make them go forward was the fact that the driver’s lower half was still controlling the tank. Dominion soldiers fallen with their Jenrakian allies.

Edward dodge a hook then try to stop it because it was heading toward Saerus. He was half a second late, the hook impaled Saerus in his spine. Another one shot pass his head and hit Saerus, all Edward could do was watch in horror as his brother-in-law was killed.

“Nooooooooooo!!!” he yelled as spun around and shot ice from his hands. His powers were out form his control. Anger does that to most mutants. He create a winter landscape in over a minute, everything in front of him was cover in ice for 500 yards. He growled at hit beast of men that ran across his winter landscape. At that time, a Mi-35 Hind E assault transport helicopter flies in low and a soldier yells out “My Lord, get on. We are retreating.”

Edward looks at Saerus’ crown before jump on the helicopter. He looked out at the battlefield. The Dominionites loss 80% of their forces in less then an half an hour.

As both Edward and Gelectriax left, Gelectriax looked back. “Follow me to Scion.” He said, turning about, and in a brisk, he fled in his war chopper. He left his lights on, red and blinking to let Edward notice whom to follow.

Edward had had the pilot follow Gelectriax’s war chopper. He just looked at battlefield, at all the deaths of both Dominionites and Jenrakians. A waste of life. Who were this Heidhakrians? Why did Saerus have to be a hard head? He should have escaped when Edward told him. Now, Selene will be…no will she survive the death of her husband again?

Gelectriax’s mind raced with thoughts and wonders, his fingers crackling in the night as silver knives amongst his mallet of a hand. He sighed carefully – the Heidhakrians were back, and there was no Karbulazk to destroy them anymore. But why were there so many? Why was their army so large? But in that moment, it came to him. A couple thousand years of isolation, untouched, undamaged, hardened over the centuries. They were awakened, and they were ready for war. Gelectriax sighed.

The ride in helicopter was quiet one. The only question that was going through the head of the Prince of Ice was one thing. What am I going to say to Selene? What the Hell am I going to say to Selene about Saerus? She asked me to get her husband out of there, if there was trouble. I told him to get out of there and that I would cover his escape. You damn fool.

Thoughts raced through Gelectriax’s mind, his fingers tapping on his chest as he looked at the small, flat plain of grass that was visible atop a cliff, not a single sign of civilization in sight. Nodding, the helicopter lowered onto the plains, this middle-of-nowhere. “Welcome to my capital.” Gelectriax yelled to Edward. There was nothing here.

Edward had the helicopter land close to Gel’s chopper. Edward hopped off and walked over to him. “What are you talking about?" he said.

It seemed as if Gelectriax was mocking Edward – there was nothing in this bleak night but the barely fertile plains, the green toxins floating like fog off in the east, a pair of horn-like mountains erected in the distance. There was no sign of civilization, no sign of any form of life, save them. Gelectriax chuckled. “Do you think I survived so long living in a languished mansion or a massive architectural for all to see? No, I am not of distasteful ego.” He walked over to a small, muddy brown patch, plunged his hand deep into its cold hearth, the air still warm, and pulled out what looked like a small metal bar, garbage to most. Snapping the metal bar in half, a tiny key was found on its end, and he nodded. “Come.”

Edward followed him, not caring what he was saying. Gelectriax was still the sicko that kidnapper that rich brat. He did not really care where he was going but he knew how to leave when the time came. Gelectriax, Edward had a felling he could tell what was going on. After Edward gets what he wants, he would leave with Saerus’ body.

Gelectriax did not care on Edward’s view towards him, he did not care if the man still wanted his blood – given he had blood left to give. Seeing so many killed and destroyed, Gelectriax worked his means through whatever means he thought of, and nothing stood in his way – except these beasts. The Heidhakrians were a devastating race, almost like a massive colony of ants that would never stop, never stop reproducing, killing, and feasting. They were a scourge he was sure that they would be forever forgotten, but now, things were different. Who unleashed them to the world? Who opened their minds to another life beyond the grounds? It was something that frightened and tormented him, wondering on what the numbers of the beasts could do. Napalm barely did anything to stop them, they were immune to most of Jenrak’s famed chemicals, and they even became a threat to the Sadicistra whom fought with equal fervour and savagery. Taking his key, Gelectriax placed it in his right arm, a small bump in the ground showing up as a tiny metal door was seen.

“Come. There is much to discuss.” Gelectriax said, opening the tiny metal door, leaving it for one of his soldiers to keep it open. “Leave the corpse outside.”

Two of the Edward’s helicopter carried Saerus’ body to the Hind. Selene is going to loss control again when she see his body. Edward said to himself in his mind. He watched them load the body onto the chopper then turns towards the door. Walking in, he looked back at Gelectriax and asked “So…do you have any idea who let those beast out to play?”

"If I knew then I would've taken care of the situation. The quarry was unwatched - meaning whoever found the tunnel was doing it illegally on government property." He retorted.

“I believe you, maybe for the first time.” said Edward. “Now, can you tell me what those men were? I could see they were unstoppable until they get their head’s cut off.”

"They're old. Ancient enemies of the Karbulazk. They're a dangerous, exotic, powerful group. But I've never seen them so militarised. Nevertheless, it makes things worst. We faced one army, and it was an endless horde. I don't think Jenrak will last long at this rate - Jeviz'Kraa is nearly overrun, and its plausible that Archios as well. However, if I am right, I can extract the blood of information I need from a friend of mine." Gelectriax replied. "However, my resources are spent, and distrust of my authority within the Vizi-Lords has caused a shift of power. Agros controls the Vizi-Lords now, and with it, my empire. So I need to depend on your communications. Trust me, I have exhausted every other option before asking for your help."

“So…this is going to be uneasy alliance between us.” said Edward. “Just to tell you, I have a plan to stop all of this. We can call it Plan X and it will be the last option.”

“But what do you need?”

"I need you to watch over the six Islands in the Inner Sanctum of Jeviz'Kraa. A warning must be set up to defend Haasdra against all things possible." Gelectriax said simply. "Notice I needed you to watch over, not intervene against them. I have something in mind."

“Okay, I will get all that set up.” said Edward. He had a good idea to do it, too. Use Dominion satellites and airplanes to fly over the six islands. To save human lives. “Anything else?”

"No, nothing else. Just give me the information you receive per hour on their movements. When they've taken all six Islands, tell me." Gelectriax retorted. "Oh, and if you need somebody to help you, I suggest you look for Agros."

“Well, good luck.” said Edward, who turned to leave. He stopped and pulled a black phone, a satellite phone. “Take this.” he said as he threw over at Gelectriax. “If you need me, press talk and say my name. It will link to my cell-phone.” With that, he turned and left Gel’s ‘empire’. On his helicopter, he heads towards the capital.

With a handless radio on his head, he said “Get me in touch with Authaulus.”

From the cold shadows, the dark headquarters of the conquered Krejeistan lands, the familiar large hand picked up his cell-phone, his stone fingers gripping it tightly. "Hello?" He asked, without checking his cell-phone's caller display.

“Bad news.” said Edward, looking down at the body of Saerus. “Those things…are too powerful. And they killed Saerus.”

"What things?" Authaulus asked with a voice of interest, ignoring Saerus' death, coldly and without remorse in his tone. "What is going on?"

“Those bloody things that came for underground.” said Edward. “They are called Heidhakrian. That is Gelectriax what called them.”

“Oh and they are in Jeviz'Kraa.” he adds.

"Are you sure? Because the Heidhakrian are extinct. I highly doubt it was them." Authaulus said on the other end.

“I’m not sure but our good buddy, Gelectriax, is.” said Edward. “They were big wild looking men and carried hooks. I know you are part of the Vizi-Lords. You can’t hide things for me.”

“This is the plan. We watch over the six Islands in the Inner Sanctum of Jeviz'Kraa. A warning must be set up to defend Haasdra against all things possible. We don‘t intervene against them, only watch them." he said. “Dominion satellites are moving into the area as we speak. Get in touch with your new boss, Agros.”

“The more help I can get, the better it will be.”

"Agros is not my boss. I bow to no-one in the Revenant." Authaulus replied with a stark of fiery independance. "However, I can see if I can get in touch with Agros."

“Good. Need me for anything, I will be delivering your brother's body to Selene.” said Edward. “And you see her anywhere in Jeviz'Kraa. Stay out of her way. Later.” With that, he had the channel cut.

He sat on the helicopter looking at Saerus. “Your brother is a piece of shit, you know that.” he said to Saerus like he was still alive. “Sorry that I did not see where those hooks were heading.”

Authaulus hung up as well, wondering. "What would I be doing in Jeviz'Kraa?" He asked himself, as he called up Agros. For a small while, the phone rang softly, the dial tone blurred and smooth, but the short clicks in between audible. He waited a tiny bit, and then finally the noise came on. A deep, coarse voice, guttural and throaty.

"Hello Authaulus." Agros replied immediately. Authaulus nodded, the smashin blocks on his neck audible.

"I need you and the Revenant gathered together in Haasdra." Authaulus retorted.

"The Heidhakrians?" Agros asked, as if he already knew.

"Of course." Authaulus replied, as Agros hung up. Redialing the number Authaulus was phoned from by Edward, he placed it up to his and waited.

Edward pushed a small button on the radio and said “Everything good on your side, Authaulus?”

"The Revenant is gathering at the Necromarnen." Authaulus quickly said, hanging up.

“Good.” said Edward to himself. He called up to the pilot “How long?” The pilot says “Fifteen minutes, my Lord.”

Rashkta, Meillimus, Gelectriax, Agros, Himself and Ashili. Authaulus thought. The Revenant was coming together for the first time in a decade.

The Hind slowly enter the airspace of Necromarnen and touched down on the nearest landing pad. Saerus‘ body in a black body bag was loaded on stretcher and pulls into the castle. Selene looked at Edward and then at the bag. “No.” she said “Not again.”

Edward walked over to her to hug her but he got something he did not want. Selene’s fist on his right side of his face, the force knocked him on his butt. He looked up at her. “You said you would watch over him.” she yelled.

“I…I tried.” said Edward. He looked back down because she looked like she was about to hit him again. No hit this time, so he looked up to see nobody. He looked behind to see her heading towards Jeviz'Kraa with her swords (http://www.toledosword.com/im/GRHK33TS_s.jpg). Small basket ball sized metal spheres danced around her black cloak self.

From the darkness of the raging sands, the hordes of Heidhakrians pushed up through as the Sword bearers fired off bursts of furious ammunition, their flickering lights flashing up as the flamethrowers blasted around, spinning shields of metal saws slashing the enemy apart, yet they still kept coming, slashing and slicing and cutting apart all the things unnatural. At the forefront, in the midst of the gruelling, blood soaked battle, a man covered in black swung his massive halberd about, his sword on his sash, as with every swing he sliced many in half, though they began to leap over him, began to overwhelm, as he nodded to his friend, a tiny thing in a black cloak.

“I hope this thing works, my dear.” Viraranaar retorted, his voice dry and his body aching, as the stranger behind him nodded contemplatively. Slashing about, the thin, lithe figure beneath the cloak and the swift agility showed the stranger to be a woman, her hair long and straight on a thick blonde streak of colour, her lips as red as Viraranaar’s blood, a green liquid drenched on her long sword, and with every slash the Heidhakrians beasts flung down, and no matter where they were hit, they never got up again. Within seconds, the sky was filled in the tandem of a thousand cargo planes, drums of clear liquid splashing all over the place, Viraranaar slapping on his gas mask as he was slobbered in the liquid, the Heidhakrians burning as if this was the acid that would be the doom to them all. From the brown cloak, from the black mask, the stranger lifted her head.

She was with golden hair, shining in the rising dawn, her small head adorned and graced by a makeshift crown of roses, her eyes blue and shining as the far-off Jenrakian sea, her red lips glistening furiously as sweat vaulted down her face. Breathing harshly, she had a serious, but sad look upon her face as she saw the ocean of Heidhakrian blood in front of her. Dropping her sword, she sighed once more, as Viraranaar placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder, nodding.

“You were right. It worked. Do you have more?” Viranaar asked her, as she shook her head. “We must use it to recapture Archios.”

“I need to make more. It will take months alone. I need to see Saerus’ brother.” She replied.

“Then come with me to Haasdra. Authaulus is calling a meeting. You need to come home.” Viraranaar urged, as the woman shook her.

“Come home, Serrin.” Viraranaar urged, as the woman finally sighed, and finally complied. Turning around, only had a sombre look upon her face.

“Selene!” yelled Edward. He got up and ran towards her. “Get back here.” All Selene did was look back at her brother. A sad look on her face, she fell down on her knees. Edward walked up to her and said “You will get your vengeance.” He picked her up and walked into the castle with her in his arms.

It was a short ride from Jeviz’Kraa to Haasdra, the black star of the dunes, and in this short time the Revenant and more were assembled. In this massive golden dome of a structure the Jenrakian Lords, for the first time, were all in council. Every single governing body, united against this dangerous internal threat. From Authaulus to Meillimus, from Thaurausk to Denise, everybody was there, including Gelectriax. It was the first time Jenrakians all united under a common banner – the banner of war. From the front doors Viraranaar came, followed behind Serrin, her simple brown cloak a stark contrast as the former Queen of Jenrak was before them. Serrin was thought to have died in grief, a suicide of her husband’s death, or childbirth. But what was she doing here, standing as clear as life? Where was she this whole time? Nobody knew, but she took her seat, to the surprise of every Lord there. The Dreskisk blood lived on.

Edward and Selene were in the council near Ashili. The vampire guardian husband of Denise was there, too. Former Major General Max Kane, now member of Remy’s White Tigers, stood near his boss. Brigadier General Rico Justice (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/Justice.jpg) of the 3rd Jackson's Roughnecks, was there beside Edward. Rico was the second-in-command of the 3rd Jackson's Roughnecks, the next to take over the division. He was there to be part of the meeting.

Tears ran down the face of Selene as Edward watched Serrin walk in and take her seat. What the fuck? he said to himself

The council was quiet, staring shockingly at Serrin – they forgot about the Heidhakrians, and looked at her with a blank stare. Serrin broke the silence by having to stand up. “My friends,” She said, looking at the Dominionites, “and my brothers and sisters. A threat comes, an old barbarian tribe that we thought was killed ages ago.” She began. “Heidhakrians. They are moving up the Raunin peninsula, and they’ve overrun most of Archios.”

“We know that, Serrin.” said Edward looking at her then at Vira. He gave Vira a what the fuck type face before looking back at Serrin. “One thing, are you a zombie or something? The last report I got you were dead.”

Serrin smiled, looking down nervously at the desk before looking back at Edward. “I know you may have that perception of me, but thanks to Lord Gelectriax a doll of me was constructed to make it look like my death. In my absence I travelled the world, helped financially by Vira, of course.” She nodded to the black-cloven priest, whom nodded back. Gelectriax only bowed his head slightly in recognition, but it was still an odd sight – there she stood, Serrin, looking in almost a decade as if she had never aged at all. She showed no difference from her youthful self, and it a miracle she stood here. “I’m not a zombie, Edward.”

“Oh…I was just asking.” said Edward. He thought it was strange that Gelectriax did something for the woman then later on he kidnaps her daughter.

He looked at the others in the meeting. “So…what is the plan? Because bullets only slow those freaks down. Head shots and heads being cut off was the best thing to do. Being ran over by tank worked but they open the tank with the hooks like the armor was nothing.”

"I've developed a chemical compound that degenerates their body quick for them be unable to continue moving. However, the problem is that it takes an extremely long time to create this. I need everyon'e co-operation that the productions in my old laboratories in Murun will be safe. If that means risking Haasdra, then we'll have to take that risk." Serrin offered, as they thought carefully. Was their survival so doomed? Was it so horrendous that Jenrak had to abandon her heart?

Edward thought about it as the other did to. Jenrak was his wife’s nation. Haasdra was nothing to Edward. “I have an idea.” he finally said. “Does anybody know of a human survive in 200 below or lower type weather? I don’t think about has survive in that type of weather for a long time. Create a landscape in Jenrak that is like Antarctica.”

“Me, Remy, Selene, whoever wants to join us will head towards the largest group of the beast of men. The rest will head to Murun and set up as guardian at your old laboratories.” said Edward. All Selene did was smile at that idea, she would get her revenge.

“If we have to risk Haasdra, then we can always rebuild.” said Edward.

"Good idea. However, we need to bait them to a relatively safe place away from civilians, and most importantly, any form of technology. If they started adapting to more advanced weaponry, coupled with that bloodlust, it could be a dangerous prospect to be fighting them." Serrin warned. "I will lead the research against them, and I will make sure that I can get enough to wipe them out for good. However, we need to be careful. They sorely outnumber us, slaves included, and they could incite rebellions all over the place. I'll need Saerus to lead the lancer charges in Marazekko." She looked around, trying to find the familiar heavily tattooed man, but to no avail.

"Where is he?" She asked.

Edward and the rest of the Dominionites did not say anything. They did not want to tell anybody Saerus until a Jenrakian told the council. Edward looked over at Gelectriax. He mouthed 'Tell them.' at him.

Gelectriax nodded. "Saerus is dead." Gelectriax retorted, as they looked at him in silence, almost with a shocking gasp that drained the air from under their breaths, yet they almost seemed like they were joking. Authaulus nodded in recognition.

"It's true." He replied.

“It is true.” adds Edward. “Your king has been killed in battle defeating his nation.”

"Defeating?" Serrin asked.

“Wrong word.” said Edward. “He was defeating the enemy fighting for his country.”

*Bump

OOC: Why did you bump it? You need to post.

OOC: Why did you bump it? You need to post.

*Do you really think that I think most of the time? I do most of the things by pure instinct.

OOC: Oh…are you going to post?

*I am soon. I just got Fable: LC, however, so what little I have is dying away. Though I promise I will reply once I beat the game.

"Saerus was king? Who had the authority to crown him?" Serrin asked.

“His brother. Plus, he had a person call the Jack of Spades using his body as a host.” said Edward.

"Alright, sounds plausible." Serrin replied, looking at everyone else. It was still a shock that she survived this long. "So, is everyone agreeing to this strategy? I was going to have Saerus bring the bait into Marazekko, but who would volunteer to bring the bait in?" She looked around, as Authaulus asked.

"What are you using for bait?" Authaulus asked her.

"Something that took me years to find." She said, almost proudly, taking out a small bundle, unwrapping it on the nearby oak table. Interest was enticed.

On the table, flesh hanging about on a scorched end, the rings still glimmering of melted jewels and gold, was Arcarum's right hand.

“I’m the best man for the job.” said Kane, his demonic voice echo through the meeting room.

"Then let's go. The sooner we get this plan working the sooner we can prevent a ravaged empire." Serrin replied, as the Lords stood up, talking amongst themselves, preparing as they rallied and hurried about. Authaulus looked at Serrin with interest. He had not known that she was alive this whole time, so off the metal cuirasse of the catwalk and onto the floor, his massive structure was standing as he stood beside Serrin, her eyes scanning across the room.

"Where have you been?" Authaulus asked her, as she looked at him with serious and murderous intent.

"Places. I've been travelling around the world, learning from others." Serrin replied, as Authaulus sighed carefully.

"Much has changed. The military, the religion, the - "

" - imperialism." She replied, as Authaulus nodded.

"Rithman-naar is a vital member of the Jenrakian corpse now." Authaulus said wisely, as the two walked out.

As the Jenrakians moved out, Edward walked over to Serrin. Followed by the rest of the Dominionites. “All I can say is this…good luck.” said Edward with that he heads the landing pads. Selene walked by her brother, Brigadier General Justice followed behind them.

“The children are heading towards our Rith land.” said Edward. “Farkas is the only one that heading there. Right now, I have lost track of my son.” Selene stayed quite.

Remy said something in Kane’s ear before heading off to find Edward and Selene.

“So, where does the bait go to?” asked Kane to Serrin.

"To the center of Marazekko." Serrin repeated.