Barracks Station,

Lower Qaelang,

“Move! Move! Get up on that wall now. The first wall, dammit, this isn’t practice. What in the Third do you think it’s there for? To look pretty? I want those catapult’s loaded, and a spare basket prepped for each. You know your teams, now move out. Don’t look at me, I said Move!”

Yelling outside the first year’s barracks, the Sergeant of the Watch called out instructions whilst viciously banging an empty Kimchi pot. Any who ran for the Wall would be forgiven for their misguided belief in the man’s unholy fury at the pot. This was him excited.

“Spread out! You swarm of inbred Pyeanchi. Not all of you through the same damn Arch, you’ll bunch up and then you’ll really be sorry. Dammit, I said spread out."

Approaching swiftly, he set about rectifying the men's clumsiness with a finely polished armoured boot.

Of the three enormous walls protecting the mountain city of Qaelang, it was the first two that took the lion’s share of blood. Separated by a stretch of land that reached over a hundred meters. The ancient architects had long deemed the distance safe enough that no Beast could leap from one to the other. It had been in a time before the birth of Chimeras.

Narrow Arch’s marked with prayers to the Giver, pocked the base of the Second wall and were small enough to allow a man through in single file. Beasts with the power to crest or break through the first wall, would not be lowly enough to make use of these arcs. Here the ancient architect's wisdom still held true, for the Beasts of this world had only grown in size and ferocity.

The land between the first two walls was where the true ‘sport’ went on and the best trophies taken. Here Sacred Artists and Disciples of the Watch would vie for the Shogun's favour proving their worth in skillful arms and tasteful kills. In the ‘Shogun’s Arena’, some of the most fiercesome of man-eaters were brought low.

Ritually cleansed with a hint of lemony soap to the air, soon it would reek of death. It’s spiked poles dripping, its pitfalls full, and all manner of trap and decoy seeing use. One did not simply step off the narrow paths that led out from each Arch.

Overseeing this bunch of fresh recruits, he was painfully aware they had yet to face a Beast Wave before. Wide-eyed and jumpy, their fear was palpable. Mistakes here would bring ruin. As one of the many Sergeants stationed upon the first wall, duty demanded he keep them alive long enough for the veterans to do some real damage.

If their spears faltered, then the wall faltered.

“Right! Listen up you slime-coated Pyeanchi swarm of ingrates. No matter what comes through that mist, you remember your training and you WILL get through today. Keep to your techniques and none of that flashy business bullshit, you put your comrades’ eye out and I’ll take yours. Above all and by the Taker, I swear I will strike any fool dead at the first sign of cowardice."

"Remember lads! There are riches and glory enough for you all here this day, this is still the fastest way of growing your cores. I’ve done this a hundred times before and will be here for a thousand more. All you have to do is cut out their beating hearts!"

Seeking to allay their fears he silently grouched that there were far too few ‘huzzahs’ given at his impromptu, but couldn’t discern if it was out of respect or cowardice that kept them silent.

The problem with the recruits was obvious, they were younger every year. He could barely comprehend them these days. In the end, it mattered little, soon they’d all be of one mind.

The shedding of blood was always the greatest of unifiers. After today, they would all be brothers. Irrevocably changed for the better should they survive.

Watching the unnatural mists billow towards the city, his thoughts were rudely interrupted from below.

“What about me Sarge? Where do you...”

“Takers Pit’s man! Where the hell is your spear?”

“I’m sorry Sarge, I heard you shouting and came running as fast as I could. Has the alarm been raised?”

“For the love of all that is... You wait right there, soldier. I’m coming down there.”

Storming down the stairs like a bull through the reeds, each of the rushing soldiers gave the giant of a man a wide berth as he approached the suddenly fearful Watchman.

“Out there we have a possible Beast Wave approaching and here you stand as naked as the day you were born!”

The soldier frowned, “Sir?”

He was most certainly not naked.

With a grimace, the Sergeant quickly put a name to this headache. Not the brightest, perfect recruitment material. Still, if this sort of ignorance persisted, he might have to use stronger language. The type he usually reserved for when the killing started.

“Your spear dammit Tjien. You are a Soldier of the Watch! You are not allowed to eat, sleep, drink or breathe without your damn spear. I don’t want to catch you jacking off without it!”

Ugh...that... hadn’t come out right. Too late, this idiot needed to understand the severity of not having his weapon on him.

“Just what use is a Taker’s Kissed spearman without his spear? I swear if I cut off your head and fired it from my catapult, I could kill a six-tusked mammoth and still not put a dent in it. Look around you man, you’re the only one here without one!”

The brief hostile glances coming from the rest of the Watch as they rushed past burned him and he felt his face grow heated in shame.

“I’m sorry sir,” he spoke. Hanging his head.

“And just what in the fine pedigreed of hell am I supposed to do with your ‘sorry’? Where have you been soldier?”

“Artillery practise Sir.”

The Sergeant paused mid-tirade, glancing up at the nearby platforms and then out over the moors as the mist drew ever nearer.

An unexpected boon.

High up on the second wall, on the highest, grandest platform, he could just about make out the neon red of the Shogun’s impressive armour. The man stood as resolute as ever, surrounded by his rich and powerful entourage.

For some reason, the man had not yet signaled for the ‘Call to Arms’. All he had allowed for was to wave an old and much disused red warning banner from atop the gatehouse.

Why in the Nines does he delay?

The young Watchman must have imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw a worried look flicker across his Sergeant's face. Snapping to, he immediately averted his gaze when the grizzled veteran's scowl fell on him once more. As if evaluating him.

“Can you fire a mobile ballistae boy?” Growled the Sergeant.

The Watchman’s face paled.

Good, the costs were understood.

“Don’t lie to me boy.”

“Yes Sir. But only one month’s training and with practice bolts only, Sir. I’ve never fired Heavy Razors or Emperors…

The Sargent waved aside the Watchman’s stammering concerns.

“Not to worry, the practice weights are the same as the real thing, as I’m sure you were told. I just needed to know you could aim boy.”

Taking out a red chit made from bone, he branded his personal seal into it with the hilt of his cored Dao Blade. The Watchman’s eyes grew large, but thankfully the blade remained sheathed throughout its use. He took the proffered chit with little resistance.

“Sir,” He tried one last protest. “I was told in training that only the most experienced get to...”

The Sergeant rolled his eyes before silencing the stammering Watchman.

“Yes, well, now I’m telling you how we actually do it around here. Take the chit to the Quartermaster and get me my Ballistae.”

“And Watchman,” the Sergeant smiled cruelly at the dismayed recruit. “You know what happens if you miss a shot, right?”

Ofcourse he knew, it was the most varied of all punishments in Qaelang. Anything from lashings to extra work detail. Typically, it rested on the preference of the Sergeant on duty.

Forever an abundance of weaponry, never enough Razors.

“And be sure to stop by each of the other barracks on your way”

The young recruit struggled to tear his gaze from the dreaded red chit in his hands, distantly he heard the Sergeants voice before snapping out of it.

“Sir!”

“I said you better get moving Watchman!”

Watching him turn and go, the Sergeant didn’t feel too good about the decision either. He was far too much of a veteran to trust a trainee with such ammunition. But he also knew for a fact his usual Heavy marksman was on the other side of the city and would be until the alarms were raised.

At the armoury, the chit would be recorded and traded in with the Quartermaster for a mounted ballistae on wheels. Light mobile siege weaponry whose primary use was putting holes in the larger, nastier targets.

Giver be merciful. He was too young to be in debt for the rest of his natural life. He could only pray the Captains exercised better judgment and avoided him. Not every Artillerist was called upon to fire actual Razor bolts. Right?

His thoughts were dashed at the crack of a whip, narrowly missing his ear.

“Why are you walking? Move your arse! Alert the others and don’t you dare come back without your spear or I’ll...”

Oh, right... He took off running

Dead Moors,

Gutter Rats,

Out in the humid swamps, swatting away incessant mosquitoes. Two young orphans and best friends, tore at the long fresh grass with hands wrapped in cloth. Barefoot with mud squelching between their toes, they moved with great caution, always checking the depths before them with a stick. Fresh bedding wouldn’t pluck itself and they were out here gathering for their whole Nest.

“Ok so you’re saying this teacher of yours, Atticus, was your mom’s boyfriend for like six months before he up and disappeared.”

Culus ground his teeth before turning around slowly, scowling at his blonde friend. He could tell just by the way the ass kept the back of his head carefully to him, that he was smiling.

“One, stop saying his name, I seriously regret ever mentioning it. And two, you know damn well that’s not what I’m saying.”

Culus ignored the giggle.

I clearly said, I only knew him for about six months, my first six months. Then he left. I never once implied he was boyfriend, she just...”

“All three of you shared a house?” Davi interjected.

“Yes.”

“And she cried when he left?”

“You know what. That’s it! I’m finished trying to explain to you how I know my letters.”

Now Davi burst out laughing, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Easy Cul, just having a laugh. But seriously, you have to admit. It kind of sounds like he was your mom’s boy...”

“I know how it sounds! And I keep telling you it wasn’t like that. For a fellow orphan, you can be quite a shit.”

“O big brother, that’s more than I ever had. At least you can remember her. Most of us don’t even have that,” protested Davi.

Culus slowed down and took a deep breath. Her face suddenly came to him, screaming for him to... Nope, no, just no. He slammed that shut the door before anything else came spilling out. That was years ago.

Memories, he wasn’t certain they were even a good thing. Which made the total lack of memory before her so much easier to process. What few confusing moments still came to him, almost none were pleasant, and they always left him with a terrible feeling of some greater loss.

No, the past stayed buried as surely as if a Doa monk had come and performed the proper rights himself. The future was all that mattered, more so when you and yours lived from day to day.

Damn, how he hated that that one was always the first to come back. Quickly throttling it, he exhaled and looked about, making to change the topic. Instead, he frowned, there was a lot of activity happening at the First wall.

He watched as it rapidly filled with Watchmen preparing the great siege engines, a large plain red banner was unfurled and waved about. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall ever having seen its use before.

Glancing about the moors nervously, Culus was suddenly struck with a bad sense of foreboding, but everything seemed eerily calm. Even the Emperor’s wagons were still out here and carrying on. Their harvest of fresh farmed seaweed and eel from the deeper parts of the Flooded River was a regular feature once a month.

Further out, he noticed a heavy wall of fog on the move. Looking to the Hunter’s Guild for some sort of clue as these men and women lived outside the city walls. If anyone knew if something was up, it would be them.

Suddenly afraid, he saw the last of them running back to their giant Mangrove outposts. He hadn’t heard a thing, certainly no alarm had been sounded. Most of the hunters had already raised their rope ladders and the great thorn Doma was already closed.

“Uh... Davi.” Finding his tongue Culus finally spoke. “I think we better head back now.”

Looking up from his harvest, he noted Culus’s alarm at once as he too spied the approaching mists. No uncored child ever dared enter the valleys common fogs and yet both jumped when mournful howl issued forth.

High in the sky, a murder of crows flew out cawing at the top of their lungs. The carrion swarmed over the moors like a hoard of flies, making their way towards the Walls. As fast as they came they quickly turned around and made their way back into the mists. Whatever held their attention was in there too.

“Aw shit Davi. We gotta go. We gotta go now!”

“What is it Culus?”

“I’m not sure and I don’t care to find out. Now get your grass and let’s go.”

“But Culus,” Davi whined, “we just got here. It took us forever to get down the mountain road. What if we…”

“Taker’s Wrath Davi. It could be anything from a Beast Wave to a bloated Pyeanchi Swarm. We are done here!”

Hastily the boys tied up their harvest and carefully retraced their steps away from the pools

“Well, it can’t be Beast Wave,” Davi sulked. “They’d have raised the alarm...”

Atop the mountain city, a deep hollow wail shattered the deceitful calm, courtesy of the Tower Lords. It sailed down the mountain, shaking the Dead Moors. Every head turned and every breath caught at its sounding. All of Qaelang was alerted to the incoming Wave.

“Taker’s Pits Davi!”

“Oi! Don’t blame me”

“Oh yes, I will. You just had to go and say it. Didn’t you? You have no tact when it comes to the pursuit of Balance.”

“Like you do? That’s just something you heard, you’re not even Cored. What do you know about balance?”

“I know that mouth of yours is cursed. Damn well flapping the worst of things into reality.”

“Aha! So you also think he was your mom’s...”

“Ooh, you piece-of… I swear when we get back to the nest, I’m going to murder you myself.”

Both of them burst out laughing as they fell into the easy step of a lifetime’s routine of the ‘Runners Clan’.

Taking off sprinting through the wet marshes as fast as their bare feet could carry them. The wet squelches of their footing and the random waking grunts from pools and mounds, spurring them on faster.

All over the Dead Moors, the peasantry of Qaelang secured their harvests and made a desperate dash for the walls.

Second Wall,

Shoguns Platform,

“Well that just ruins that”, sighed the bright red armoured warrior. “I have given the fools what time I could,” he muttered.

“Lieutenant, lift the gag order and raise the full alarm. Drums, whistles, all are a go.”

“Yes, my Lord Salamander.”

Immediately the officer stepped away blowing on the Ivory carved whistle about his neck, signaling the nearby platforms. Taken up by the others, the shrill quickly raced along the Wall and soon the blare of Captain's horns entered the fray.

A kaleidoscope of Ki flares were fired into the air, each signifying the differing requests of stations, from more hands to securing strategic locations along the winding walls.

To the beat of the drums, soldiers of the Watch marched. The rattle of armour and sound of the boots a cadence to their every step. Spears slammed at the ready and heavy Crossbows formed neatly behind them.

With the crack of the whip and lash of the tongue, the coreless peasantry were herded through the Ascendant Gates. Prayers were given in thankful abundance for having made it back to safety.

With the sounding of the Tower Lords alarm, the last City of Man was made ready for battle. Another in an Eternal War of survival against the god's forsaken mutants and Beasts of the Wilds.

Here on the walls of Qaelang, Human and Beast gathered for an accounting of lives to be spent. Food, power and resources. The Beast Wave had come, and Humanity made ready their welcome as catapults were cranked into position.

Dressed in the armoured hide of a fire breathing Salamander and Spirit Beast, that he himself had slain some years back. The Salamander Shogun allowed himself a moment to gaze upon the masses that ran past in a blind panic.

Dimly he knew he should feel something for these wretches. It was his duty, after all, to protect the City and by default, all of its inhabitants. But try as he might over the years of service, he simply could not stem his growing disgust of them.

Weak and accustomed to it, they were his complete opposite. His revulsion in them nearly caused him an involuntary shudder, as he tried to situate himself in their place. Irritated with his momentary lapse in emotion, he knew it was his own fault really. He should not have bothered to even look.

Bad enough that they were defective or so poor as to be considered defective. But not only were these wretches uncored, they were emotional wrecks too. Constantly living in some new fear from day to day. He could smell it on them.

He could only imagine the frenzy the Beast Wave must be having as they salivated over that scent. As much as they disgusted him, they would serve him. They already did.

“Lower that crossbow you wretched pile of Pyeanchi faecal matter!”

Ah, and then there were his blessed sergeants. Not a drop of Noble blood in their veins and yet he loved them so.

Masters of subtle explanation and gentle encouragement, always ready to help out fresh recruits in new worthier lives. There wasn’t a crossbow that could reach even a third of the distance to the Flooded River and to waste a single Razor today would be an intolerable decadence.

“The next Beast loving, son of a whore, I see waving a loaded crossbow around with his finger on the trigger is going over this Giver’s Blessed Wall with my boot so far up his arse it’ll poke his eyes out!”

Truly these men possessed the ability to make a Noble’s ears bleed, even with their mouths sewn shut. And yet his soul never tired of their melody.

Tsea-gong the second, allowed himself an internal smile as they bullied the peasant boys and girls into true Soldiers of the Watch.

As was fashionable amongst the Houses, his Noble blooded Captains hid their faces behind elaborate war masks. Porcelain, rare beast hide or feathers, each more intricate than the next. The Salamander alone wore none.

With this many thousands of spears, swords and crossbows at his command, his slightest gaze was the most sought-after prize on this battlefield and each here sought to prove themselves before him. To look upon the face of the Shogun, was to know true courage.

Tsea-gong was the Wall.