---> if you are interested in my work, please check out my novel The Starving Vulture. Available on A****n, $3.99 for the Ebook and $14.95 for the Paperback https://www.a****n.com/Starving-Vulture-Miguel-Monta%C3%B1a/dp/1951150899<--------- Her legs were on fire, not in the actual sense of things. But the sprint uphill had done more than just spill some sweat and bleed her already bandaged wounds. Her back ached with a pain born from blackened bruises and bad posture, her chest was just about to burst from the exertion she was forcing upon her tired body. But giving up wasn’t a viable option for a soldier, much less for a Lieutenant of the Voltiir Line Infantry. At the corner of her eye, she saw the rest of the platoon. Lead by her ever reliable second in command. The soldier stood
---> if you are interested in my work, please check out my novel The Starving Vulture. Available on A****n, $3.99 for the Ebook and $14.95 for the Paperback https://www.a****n.com/Starving-Vulture-Miguel-Monta%C3%B1a/dp/1951150899<--------- The jagged rocks sat high above the rest, domineering the distant valley horizon like the bared teeth of a humongous predator. The surroundings rippled with the noise of volt fire, as the roar of explosions echoed across the stony hills of the Molag Valley. Long held as the demilitarized border between the Zeraph Republic and Eldraeci Island Federation, the place now writhed with the horror of combat.
The train had begun its slow crawl onto Sephiro Station, the cars were abuzz with activity as soldiers from every class of the Zeraph Republic had prepared to depart. Mageblades rumbled out first, their heavy armor in baggage while their plasma swords slung light on their backs. Lancers led their horses by the reins, marching in a single line. All while the Voltiir Line infantry waited for their turn to depart. Likaya stood alongside her platoon, though she no longer led them. She felt it was necessary that she stayed close, till she no longer could. Her Sergeants had taken command, and soon enough they’d be shipped off to officer school.
Froster found his new Captain strange. Not as strange as the eldritch horrors crafted from Kolys sorcery or maddened savagery of the Birchmen tribes. She was just different. It wasn’t the first time he had interacted with a soldier from another regiment, nor was it his first time interacting with another sapient that wasn’t a Dragonwolf. But being under one was an experience he wasn’t sure he was prepared for. Nonetheless, he trusted Xenophon’s and Xerxes’ judgement. He would do what was expected of a Dragonwolf.The pair arrived at the barracks of the 6th Platoon, his new Captain may not have noticed it but he checked to see if the fr
The sheriff was a recluse, how and why he opted to be a lawman of a bustling trading town was a mystery to all. Including himself, but he did find pride in his work. Still, it was considered hard to operate as a reliable sheriff if he was half asleep. He very near wanted to slap the hell out of his deputy the moment he could hear the young Orsim’s crusty voice calling his name as he slept. “This better be good Will” He mumbled as they both sped their horses down the main highway. It was 3am, and a few traders had already began departing with their wares down the Sorrenson Road. Ferrying herbs, produce, meat and other essential wetland resources. A few of them recognized the sheriff, greeti
“Weapons have been tested, operating at maximum efficiency. Joint pistons have also been upgraded with a pressure release valve to help them when traversing a swamp. As per the mission parameters.”“Including Thornrat?” As if in response to her question, the light GearBane pumped its piston joints and cackled as the visors on its angular face focused towards the Battle Mage. “Feisty” Froster commented. “But useful.” Aster added. She summoned Thornrat from its mooring, the light Gearbane had a spring in its step, a byproduct of the coils that helped the machine sprint and even leap into battle.
Froster stood in front of the boat as he stared into the river’s unending horizon. The smell of water and the light tinge of smoke had done enough to dull his thoughts as he bottled in the uneasiness. A Dragonwolf never showed fear. But he knew the fight with the Birchmen was no easy memory to swallow. The memories of the Western Marshlands campaign were fresh in his mind, long days slogging down enemy territory not knowing when the strange barbarians would attack. What he feared most was their weapons, the Birchmen only used primitive spears tipped with crude metal and self loading crossbows that fired simple arrows. But their capability to meld with the wood and dirt of their surroundings was what made the barbarians such a challenging enemy. And his long career knew he had many to compare to.“It’s my second time in the marshes.&rdqu
The rest of the DragonWolves filed into the galley and took in a respective set of lunch rations. Aster saw that a few of them weren’t present. Namely Wriixer who was at the helm and three others who kept watch. They each sat onto the table and opened their rations all at the same time, with each member staring at their food as if waiting for the signal to eat. Damnation, they are really waiting for my command. Aster thought to herself as she gave the order. The dining custom was encountered by her as a cadet in the Dragon’s Point Military Academy, the square movements, speedy dining and consummate chewing. All textbook military decorum.“Do our troops know that they are no longer in the academy?” She asked, Froster who had begun to partake in his rations.“Mam?” The Lieutenant had just swallowed a big bite of rice, beans and
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