“When it comes to tactical blunders, there is no greater fear than poorly aimed mage artillery. Friendly fire is an obvious concern, but massed area of effect skills improperly employed can be absolutely devastating. Take for example the simple call for fire. What kind of fire do you want? Because there is a world of difference between a burning log and the inferno of a dragon.”

Training excerpt, Lenorian Artillery Handbook. AC 1589.

The light shines gently from above, flickering amidst the slowly waving kelp. The dim illumination reflects off the teal green of the vegetation and the constant flicker of motion makes it difficult to identify potential threats. We walk in formation cautiously, Luna taking the lead and attempting to find a way through.

There is no clearly defined path, so we gradually take a zig zagging course, weaving in and around as we attempt to move stealthily. My thoughts whirl and I start muttering to myself,

“This wasn’t in the mission brief…. Is this supposed to be a surprise addition? Should I have stayed put and waited for further guidance?”

Doubts and self-recriminations clamor about and before I drown in them, I drag my attention to the situation at hand. First, figure out what is going on. Then consider what could have been. With that plan in mind, I let out a tiny pulse of mana aimed at a specific portion of my camouflaged armor. This is the first time I’m trying this, and I’m nervous to get it right.

A quiet ‘ding’ lets me know that I’ve successfully changed comms and I should be able to transmit to the team that we’re scouting for. I take a second for a quick recall of my mental notes. We’re scouting for call sign, “Provision team.” With that established, I try making contact.

“Provision team, this is…”

Wait a minute.

WHAT’S OUR CALL SIGN!?!?

I hold up a claw to signal the squad to halt. Everyone turns their body outwards, scanning the forest for movement. As they pull security, another pulse from me switches the communicator to team comm’s and I ask the all-important question.

“Does anyone know what our call sign is supposed to be?”

*silence*

Luna hesitantly responds back,

“I… I don’t think Sergeant Lee told us that. Do you remember seeing anything in the training material about it?”

Bill chips in,

“I remember them saying that it’s generally assigned to us by higher echelons. But I never heard anything about us specifically.”

I reply, “I don’t remember anything either. Does anyone have any idea?”

A chorus of “no” answers my inquiry and I take a minute to figure out the next course of action. At this point Wilhelm says,

“We should pick our name.” He stares off into the distance and I see his tail twitch a little, almost in excitement as he says,

“We should call ourselves the Smashers.”

Mina retorts, “That is a dumb name. Not everything is about smashing. We can come up with something better. How about team Mustakrakish?”

Luna turns an arm in an inquiring manner and cautiously asks,

“Mustakrakish? What does that mean?”

Mina begins gushing, her voice audibly excited as she says, “It’s from one of Pinnipeds early songs! His early stuff was more experimental. For example, no one’s figured out yet what a “coffee bean,” is and why you need to prepare it.”

As soon as she says the name of my dread nemesis my hackles raise. Before spewing vitriol, I gather the anger and push it down. Now’s not the time Crabby, gotta focus.

All this time Bill and Billy have been quietly conferring with each other. They turn to the rest of us and say,

“We vote for the name Aquaticus Adeptus.”

For some reason, the name sends a chill up my carapace. A vague feeling of dread rises from my connection to the Akasha, and I receive flashes of images. A half dead man sitting on a throne, daily sacrifices to fuel his power. Rabid orcs, going from planet to planet, painting things red to make it go faster. Twisted caricatures of gods, hiding in the chaotic space between spaces, playing their hideous games in the pursuit of their own twisted ideals.

I take cold solace in the fact that I can easily identify that this is just a story. I tear my mind away from the grim and dark images and decide to curtail the discussion.

“We’re team Mooncrab. End of discussion.”

Quiet acceptance answers my declaration and as I nod in satisfaction a system window appears.

Congratulations!

You have gained temporary* Sect members.

*Members may voluntarily leave at any time. Any gained experience will be split by the group.

Do you wish to view the current roster?

Y/N?

I reach out a claw and select “Y”

The old familiar Sect screen appears, this time with new additions.

Sect Members:

Luna (Head) - Lvl 25.

Sir Crabby McCrabbington I (Head) - Lvl 25.

TODD (Elder) - Lvl 32.

Temporary Sect Members:

Wilhelm (Berserker) – Lvl 28.

Mina (Bard) – Lvl 27.

Bill (Artificer) – Lvl 25.

Billy (Artificer) – Lvl 25.

A quick perusal shows that we’re all pretty close in level, with Wilhelm and Mina slightly higher. Which makes sense, they said they were waiting longer for a full class roster to form, and they had gone through a few local dungeons in Incursion city in the interim. Luna, the Bill brothers and myself are the same and TODD…

What in the world has TODD been doing?

I try to imagine who he might be fighting, and then discard the notion. There’s more important things going on right now. I retry the transmission, trying to get in touch with the team we’re supporting.

“Provision team, this is Mooncrab squad. Come in, over.”

Curious as to how the communication function in the armor works, I activate mana sense to try to figure it out. As I release my mental “hold” on the message, in barely a split second, it’s encapsulated by a packet of mana which then… inverts and disappears from sight.

…

……

I have no idea what just happened.

*DING*

Congratulations!

[Mana Sense] III has leveled up!

It is now level 2.

I mentally wave away the level up notifications and continue to pay attention. A second later, what appears to be the same mana packet reappears, and infuses into what I can now assume to be the input portion of my armor. I hear a crackling and broken voice say,

“Crab?... Is… training… meant to… forward… observe?... over.”

YES! I got through! Now to clarify our situation.

“Provision team, you are coming in broken and barely readable. This is Mooncrab squad. We were dropped into an unknown area. It appears to be a kelp forest. Can you advise your current location in proximity to us? Over.”

Another tense moment passes before I receive a response,

“Barely… hear you… did… say… kelp forest? Over.”

I respond, “Yes, we’re the training team assigned to the mission to forward observe. We were displaced somehow, in a kelp forest. I say again, we were displaced, currently in a kelp forest, over.”

An even longer pause grows and I begin to worry that we are somehow out of range or that something is interfering. Then, a final response comes through the line causing me to almost jump out of my armor from the shrill voice screaming at me,

“DISENGAGE!... SAY!… AGAIN!... DANGER!!... GET OUT!!! GET OUT NOW!!!”

As the transmission fades away, I jolt into action. We’re only two hundred meters or so into the forest, we just need to retrace our steps and…

My thoughts freeze as I notice the kelp is no longer moving. There are no flickering lights coming from above, no light currents swaying the plants around me. The kelp stands dead still in defiance of the ambient conditions. As I slowly scan the environs, I realize it’s slowing growing darker. I look above and see the plants moving above us to block the light. I’m not the only one who’s noticed as Luna whispers over the team chat,

“Is it just me or is it…”

I cut her off,

“Unknown threat in proximity. Retreat back to the clearing. Slow and smooth, head on a swivel.”

Everyone tenses at my pointed orders and Luna starts to slowly move towards me. We’ve practiced this before; she’ll overtake my position in the middle and form the new point man behind me. We’ll then swivel and head back the other way.

She makes it about two Crabby lengths before the attack comes.

A neighboring kelp whips down from above, splitting the water and narrowly missing her. I manage to yell,

“CONTACT!”

Before all hell breaks loose.

Meanwhile, in the training operation center.

Drill Sergeant Lee paces back and forth behind the soldier in charge of tracking personnel movements.

“Have you found them yet?”

“No Sergeant, again, the transponders are not responding. They may be out of range or… wait. We’ve just received a transmission from the provision team. They established limited contact with the training squad.”

“And?”

“They said they were able to get broken communication from them. They report that it sounded like the squad entered the…”

“Entered the WHAT Specialist?”

The soldier nervously swallows and then whispers,

“They report that it sounded like the squad entered the Demon Kelp Forest.”

At his whisper the room goes silent. For a shocked moment, Sergeant Lee scans the six people in the room. From the battle captain in charge of this training simulation on down, he realizes they’re all lower ranking enlisted. He’s the most senior person in the room. His heart clenches in his chest as his training kicks in.

Sergeant Lee roars,

“I AM ASSUMING DIRECT COMMAND!! I NEED CURRENT PROJECTIONS OF THE FOREST LOCATION!! THE BLASTED THING MOVES!! WHERE IS IT NOW? SPIN UP THE QUICK RESPONSE FORCE! I NEED MEDICAL EVACUATIONS STANDING BY! MOVE PEOPLE!!! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!”