“Mam” A gruff looking young man gave her a salute, the blue badge of the lawkeepers gleamed bright on his chest.“Marshal, good you know who to salute. What seems to be the commotion?”“Trader’s caravan was massacred in the Corinth road this morning, estimated thirty dead. We also got some swamp folk boats comin downriver empty and bloody. Some of the trapper camps were even emptied out. We have to close down the road and the river. Could be a Birchmen raid. Can’t let anyone through the marshes for now.” The countryside drawl was a bit hard to get used to but Likaya was able to take in what was being discussed.“Marshal, we’re not some slack jawed traders. We’re voltiirs of the Zeraph Military and we’re on a mission from the Army to search for lost assets in the Suha Marshes. You’ll le
Ordinary runecraft never reacted with that much energy, so she was sure it wasn’t just swamp labor tool leaving the traces.“Sergeant Wriixer, bring us to the island on the north east. The thickest group with the bent down swamp tree.” Wriixer turned the boat, the vessel tugged and cracked as marsh reeds were ripped apart by the paddle. As they neared the place, a strange smell began to permeate their surroundings. Likaya thought it was only her but she noticed the others reacting in some manner of disgust.“Lieutenant, you smell that?” She asked, noticing that Froster had put his left hand on his nose.“Yes I do mam. I believe it’s a Rot spell of some sort.”“Rot spell? That’s infernal magic isn’t it? Skolic stuff?”“Yes mam, but more likely it was a rune stored weapon smuggled to the Kolysians.” Likaya reviewed th
The team moved to the last cabin they hadn’t inspected, one that sat close to one of the work yards. This shelter was different from the rest, not many supply crates were present. It was instead a collection of arranged camper bags, folded tents and a few foldable tables littered with papers and books. “This looks like an archaeological expedition.” She muttered, walking towards an opened bag that had its contents spilled over. She picks up a reddish shirt that bore the image of a fish swimming downward, a symbol for the Southern Star. The letters SU were in the middle of the shirt in bright gold lettering as well, this was indeed a camp for the Southron University’s ex
The sheriff cursed in his indigenous language, shaking his head as he clawed on the horns on his head.“What’s happening here Captain? I knew something was wrong when I saw those sprites burstin up when they’d fly high. And those damn mushrooms, I don’t know where they came from.” Froster’s attention had peaked, as well as his Captain’s.“Mushrooms?” Aster Likaya interrupted. The sheriff nodded his head.“Mushrooms, yes. We tried to save that stranger as he ran to the West Inn. Next thing we know, we’re getting mushrooms boiling out of the place. We couldn’t go through.” The stranger was indeed someone from that camp, they just knew it.“I should follow my people, Richardson is still far.” Tipping his hat, the old Xanthite left the company of the voltiir’s steamboat. A complimentary warning
“CONTACT LEFT” Likaya called, shooting down the Birchman soldier before it could throw a javelin at them. Within seconds, the marshland was filled with guttural howls. The unnerving cries reminded her of a parched drunk, crying as he was thrown out of a tavern. Within seconds, crude javelins were launched from the reeds. Aster took cover by the galley entrance, firing away at any Fangsworn in sight. The autocross began to fire, the steady rumble of the automatic weapon was deafening but to the voltiirs it was a welcome noise. The weapon’s bolts tore through the reeds, the howls of the enemy were followed by water splashing as they fell from their ambush points. Sensing some relief, she checks on the squads, but the voltiirs had huddled into a defensive position with their backs against each oth
“As per the previous report, Wriixer has given us an hour.”It was the six in the evening, the suns were now setting as an orange glow bathed the stillness of the marshes. Night was coming.“Half another check, with Brasidas’ discovery. I need to know if we have to retreat.” Marshal Jennings was only in his early 30s, but some had assumed he was close to fifty. It was an exaggeration to some, but he never took it against them. His brown hair was graying by the side, eyes were sunken due to long nights spent awake on the saddle, while the facial scars caused by an arcane claw from a defiant mage bandit did make it look like he was covere
He swerves to his corners, checking the two entrances of the engine room. Hoping to crack a shot, but nothing. The silence was deafening, he could hear his heart beating, his sweat trickle and the shivering of his body. The Marshal tried to listen to his surroundings, blastfire still cracked around him. He could hear the shouts of the others that had come with him. They were alive, that was enough. Footsteps echo from behind him, he turns to see another Fangsworn standing facing him. It carried a twisted spear that shone red with blood, and it was aimed right at him. Jennings wastes no time pulling the trigger, the bolt does its work tearing through the Birchman’s armor. Whispering a quiet prayer of thanks to Akath, Jennings loads the cro
Metal whined and clanked as the Gearbanes were rive with activity. Swinging, firing and shattering any of the Fangsworn they encountered. Ragehog’s grappling hook was a devastating melee weapon up close, folded into a spike it served as a gigantic stake. While Thornrat carried a long pick axe, which by now was stained with blood and wood from the enemy dead. The Gearbanes were called such, due to the noise their gears would produce while in battle. As if their internal contraptions were close to giving way from the strain of their power. So far, no damaging strain was felt. That much Likaya could feel. Though the battle was heated, and she kept the marching cadence of her squad. Half her mind was focused on
It stood taller than all of them, an ordered collection of twisted wood and petrified birch. The head was covered in a helmet made of glistening wood, antler like branches sprouted from the sides while four glowing eyeslits sat on the faceplate. They glimmered with the green flame of some nature born arcane force. Froster’s arcane eye was at barely a fourth of its capacity but he knew that this enemy was blistering with energy. “Damnation” His Captain cursed, as she fired at the new Druid. A volt landed on its shoulder, but it spawned a shield of grey vines from its right hand. The Lieutenant wasted no time, binding a lightning spirit to his blast rod and opening fire. Thunder roared as a lightning bolt spat out from the blast rod, pushing the Druid a few steps back. In its staggered state, the Captain had followed with a few more shots of her own. Forcing th
Clutching his staff, he drew upon the energies of the land. Seeping away at the remaining essence of his minimal verdure surroundings. He reached out further, away from the town. Further away from the ruined brick of the town, and emptied bones of the fallen Xanthites. He had to go further. Into the marshes.His magic touched the reeds, the lilies and the grass. Once his power touched them, he took their blessings. Seeping their life from their form. Turning what was once green and lively into nothing but a dying husk. Rejuvenated, he stands straight. Ready for the phase of the battle.The Druids moved first, slinking away in a haze of dusty and leaves. Moving deeper into the streets, they fired crossbows and hurled wreckage. The Fangsworn stayed, tossing javelins and charging without abandon. Their stronger variants, the leaders of the pack had retreated. Leaving the plasma fodder for the Kolysians.Ergonus cast his energies upon his surroundings, forcing floral growth to emerge from
The town square was the center of the conflict. The whistle of pirate plasma and the crack of their skelemek automatons rang high, all while the Fangsworn’s roars echoed as their Druids cast bizarre but powerful spells. Kolysians clashed with all the unorganized rabble of their pirate profession, backed up the more stoic movement and patterns of their veteran comrades.The Fangsworn rushed ahead, with javelins hurled as they ran from cover to cover. Massive blocks of stone and earth would emerge from the ground. Summoned by their Druid’s impressive magic.From edge of the Birchman line, Likaya spotted their target. The staff carrying Druid who had yanked her back into the damned town. Ergonus, was the name Froster overheard. When the pair slew one of the Druids, this Ergonus took that as a personal slight and hunted the squad. Chasing them down with a devastating Lightning Caller.The Druid was small when compared to his companions, he stood in stark
The rain soon fell weak, allowing the two a bit more space as the drains flowed less. But much time had passed, and the weariness had taken the better of them. “I have a plan.” Likaya announced, the weakness had left her voice and there wasn’t much strain as she moved to show Froster a map of the town.“The post office, there are sprites there. We had Brasidas scout for them remember?”“Are they messenger worthy?”“Not sure, I’ll assume yes but we can always spruce them up. We send them a message, confirming our survival. Then we set a rally point for Richardson and take the last working boat on the western docks.”Froster nodded in agreement.“We move as soon as we heal. So an hour perhaps?” Seemed too long, but he did want the rest.“Yes mam” He agreed.A silence fell upon the pair, one laced with enough serenity and
The Druid’s power was unexpected, the vortex it had created had sent the Kolysians into a panicked retreat towards Orobar Hill’s empty streets. While vineborn tendrils of the Druid’s lash had hurled the Lieutenant and the Captain back towards the ruined towns. There was a crack moment when the officers sensed what had to be done and had unleashed a torrent of telekinetic blasts to dampen their fall. They crashed onto a small shed a cloud of dust and splinters erupted. Froster’s hands were weak beyond measure, a spiking headache had bit onto his skull. A lifetime of training and experience led him to committing to a well timed forward roll that broke his fall. Keeping the momentum he stands up, searching for Likaya under the soot and debris. His eyes stung and a bruising pain stuck to his left side. His blast staeve was damaged, the hammer shattered a
The DragonWolves showed no emotion as the enemy closed in. Their eyes were focused and their faces stoic as Drent focused precise shots on the incoming boats. Kolysians perished or hid as their vessels broke down at the augmented bolts pouring from the voltiir’s autocross. The plan was simple, they would focus the pursuers onto a funnel. Damaging enemy boats at the angles of their formation, preventing them from fanning out and surrounding their warehouse. Any other unit would have needed two or maybe even three autocross teams or even a breaker cannon. But these were DragonWolves, she was witness to their skill in combat.
Able Froster was still in pain, what little food and medicine he had ingested had only done little to alleviate the pain. But it was reassuring that his Captain was around to well, be the superior officer. He had served under commanders who were not DragonWolves, needless to say he felt a disdain for them. But Likaya was different, she was confident in her role as an officer and an experienced soldier. Her mastery in the arcane was impressive, it lacked the carefree pride that most Battle Mages exhibited. Instead what Likaya brought was precise confidence in her spellcraft and accuracy expected of all soldiers. She was easy on the eyes as well. Not that, it was a factor in his judgement. He felt embarra
The story that Keever told was close, if not exact to what Likaya had imagined when she first witnessed the carnage at Willis Camp.It was a long recollection of events, with their little guest dictating what he could remember or at least claimed to. “I saw signs of the Birchmen, their magic leaves a trail, a presence if you will. It ripples in the trees when they attempt to travel through.” There was a weakness in his voice, guilt and remorse for what he had done. If Keever’s story was true, he was indeed responsible for the murder of almost twenty people.“I knew they were coming. I tried to take the vessel but, it… it took control of me.” “Control?” Likaya felt uneas
Able Froster tried to drag his body from the boat, but he was too mired in pain. His nostrils flooded with blood and his breathing was choked with phlegm. He pushed himself up, coughing out the red mucus and whatever blood was clogging up his pathways. “Captain?” he wheezed, “Squad?” he gagged, spitting out whatever fluids were stuck in his throat. His joints were aflame, but none of his bones seemed broken. At least that was his assumption, based on past experience and what little medical training he could remember. His head on the other hand, felt numb. No sensation could be felt from his forehead to his skull. This made his eyelids needlessly heavy. He attempted to grab on to the railing but he froze the moment he caught sight of their surroundings.It was the port of a small town, flooded with knee high water. Dead fish and other fauna floated on t
“Aster Likaya, Captain of the Zeraph Republic Voltiir Corps. Serial number 3349-88766.Aster Likaya, Captain of the Zeraph Republic Voltiir Corps. Serial number 3349-88766.” She repeated the phrases in her head, desperate to focus on something that didn’t involve the seeing numbness that had overtaken her body. The death of one Druid and the departure of another had weakened the vine wall that was separating them from their vessel. From the wet reeds, the rest of the Fangsworn had either followed their leader or had attempted a panicked attack, only to be cut down by the voltiir’s staeves. The Captain was seated in the galley, her hands on her head, gasping for breathe and sanity. Froster sat just across wh