The numerous hunting and scouting trips through the forest set an almost instinctual knowledge of the area in the minds of the Kobolds, as if they had grown up there. As if they had played games among the rocks and trees as hatchlings, hunted in vain for prey with their parents during a dry season, discovered what love meant behind the shrubbery under the silvery moonlight. They learned where one could walk casually with crossbow stowed and voices raised, where the Dimitria Bulbs drift from plot to plot, how close one could get to the Atlas Boa before rousing its suspicion.

They glide like razors, cutting silently through the foliage and leaving only the faintest trace of a disturbance in their wake. There are Abilities that may mimic this level of practiced knowledge, but really, nothing beats the real thing. That's why the system rewards crafters with a better chance of creating higher tiered items if they put in the effort.

For too long, the Kobolds took the oppression of their kind as the natural order.

Feeble. Spineless. Pathetic.

Even goblins, those many consider their equal in threat level, can be quite vicious. They even multiply like, well, goblins and they can overrun their enemies with large numbers, another distinct advantage they have over their scaly peers. The thought of how a species that decended from drakes or possibly even from dragons could end up this way always gave them a feeling of hopeless inferiority.

But from the mists of the Denagrin Plains, where their battle worn tribe was unceremoniously transported and left to die, a new tribe appeared and rescued them from certain annihilation. Powerful, yet nurturing individuals made up this group and they were generous with their time, energy, and resources. The Kobolds, being led by Dola Stubfang at the time, had nothing to give back to these people, nothing but their loyalties. As humble as the offer was, the leader of this group, Dawn Nobel, excepted it graciously and all the people of Linqs welcomed them like relatives who had been away for far too long.

The happy-go-lucky Kobolds run swift and silent. This is no time for jokes or chatter. An enemy has threatened their tribe, their family. And now, that enemy is within sight.

Sweaty, dirty, grey-skinned hobgoblin scouts who trained all their lives to be at peak performance during times of conflict stalked the forest up the incline towards the ridge. Before, they had snuck in and gotten as far as the Atlas Boa Grove, but this time they were expected. This time their natural and learned battle prowess will be put to the test. As will their armor and Agility…

The forest had, mere moments before, been alive with the sounds of a myriad of beasts, birds, and insects. The chirps, squaks, calls, and growls are gone for now. They did not want to bring attention to themselves as they made their escapes into their burrows, nests, or simply depart from their homes for the moment. Now is not the time to be caught in a place like this. Even the cold wind that has been ushering in the autumnal season has ceased its chilling dance through the trees. Only a distant something could be heard in the crushing silence of a capitulated forest, playing dead until the upcoming horrors pass by.

Grinning.

Grinning at the prospect of slaughter.

Grinning at the desire to rape and to pillage.

The hob Scouts slink through the forest in the hopes of finding the enemy's camp so that the fiery ecstacy of the raid can be allowed to blaze across the land once more. With an undead army behind them and the power of a powerful Tier 3 Necromancer to guide them, who would be foolish enough to--

[You received 83 lightning damage!]

[You are Stunned for 10seconds!]

All five Scouts see the same notice after the bolt of electricity lept from their leader and through each one of them, leaving jagged burn marks across the chests and backs of their armor. Their muscles lock tight, driving them to the ground, as residual static disperses into the air.

They argue in low growls over what had happened, since, even though the sky is overcast grey, it doesn't indicate any signs of an incoming storm. That, and the lightning shot straight out of the ground and traveled horizontally.

One of them strains to get the attention of their leader, but simply forcing his head away from his chest is a painful burden. All he sees is a torso riddled with arrows, leaking like a punctured waterskin. Each arrow deftly avoids the solid bone or thick leather and, instead, pinpoints weak or empty spots in the armor.

There is no time to warn the others as a swarm of shadow enhanced rapiers, crossbow bolts, scales, and claws falls upon them. And, for one brief moment, the snarling visage of an Ursine Faunus can be seen by one of the Scouts right before a massive fist makes swift contact with the hob's face like a furry wrecking ball.

Loot is unceramoniously gathered and reusable bolts reloaded into boxes. Nothing more needs to be said or done so Boulder's team leaps back into the hunt. Another crash of lightning can be heard, Elsbeth's special Shock Traps, and they know that another team is closer so their presence shouldn't be necessary.

"Should be Conner, Milli, and Haro," Boulder growled low. Tamu and Dilla nod in agreement, but say nothing else.

The two Kobold teams were split in half and placed under the leadership of a soldier. These smaller teams are meant to disrupt the enemy's reconnaissance of the area, as well as chip at the main forces with guerilla strikes. They're also using special traps made by one of Elsbeth's Skills as well as some created by Mika before departing for Project Icarus.

Each attack may only take out a handful of the stronger, better equipped hob soldiers, but the fewer units reaching the bottom of the valley, the better.

A scouting group advances far enough and finds a path on the decline, taken for quite some time due to the wide space between the trees for wagons to drive through. Nearby is a bald spot in the forest where the Linqs people must have had a logging operation. Even the stumps were cleared in this wide stretch of dirt and rock the size of a couple football fields side-by-side. The hobs assess from the shadows of the trees, arguing over what the implication of this swatch of land a few hundred yards long and wide could really be.

Their leader argues loudest and, thinking the others became silent in coerced agreement, turns back to them with a puffed chest and a dripping yellow grin.

There are only dead hobs and a pair of tiny, scaly reapers aiming odd looking crossbows at him and a young male in strange, grey leather armor. Grin frozen in place and before another move can be made, the boy makes an almost imperceptible movement with his head and the pale yellow Kobold fires her crossbow. A thick, silvery net slams the hob into a nearby tree. He struggles against the binding, but it's not so much strong as it is sticky, preventing him from moving any part of hiimself more than an inch. He tries to turn his head and the netting over his hair tears clumps out in bunches.

The trio ignores the screams and grunts of pain and Conner approaches. He stows his bow in a storage ring and withdraws a pair of irridescent black throwing daggers.

"Very nice, Milli. Gotta see if we can get more of those Huntsmans Spider Barrels. Or, at least something like them."

"Was prize, Sir Conner," Milli clutches the crossbow tight to her chest. Haro nods his head, eyes closed while remembering the battle with the Harpy Matriarch.

Conner twirls the daggers gracefully around his fingers, getting closer and closer to the hob. "Scout?" he asks, stopping the blades an inch or so from a gap in the webbing.

Yellow eyes dart from Conner's face, the daggers, the Kobolds, and the bodies on the ground with loot sacks ready for pick up. His mind races for a way out. If only he wasn't bound he would crush these tiny--

The blade edges closer to the hob's eye and sings, ringing and begging to be thrust forward, "Now, now. You know you're caught. Cooperate and you might have a chance to limp back to your general with most of your pieces attatched. All you have to do is one little thing.

"We need you to tell your boss… how wonderful this particular spot is." Conner's boyish grin spreads from ear to ear. The Hobgoblin hesitates for a moment, considers his situation, and reluctantly returns a whincing smile.

Off in the distance, a lone Lunar Elf keeps watch from her perch atop Dragon's Head Falls. The noise from the torrent of water constantly pouring out is deafening, but El doesn't mind. Nothing can sneak up the trail behind her without setting off one of her Shock Traps.

She lays flat amongst the sparse greenery able to live on the stoney surface while she uses Zoom III to observe a very particular location for activity. Feint war cries reach out this far and flashes of light from sprung traps catch her overseeing gaze. Elsbeth didn't like using the trap Skills, having grown adverse to using them due to their added cost in materials. But now, with the abundance of the necessary items and the very real threat of being overrun, the Skill is proving to be invaluable.

While still facing forward, El stretches her arms forward and sighs, resting her head on crossed forearms. How much has changed in just a few months? How far had they come? Just the thought of everything is enough to make her head spiral.

"A great view, isn't it?"

Two rapiers appear in Elsbeth's fists as she rolls over to her back, defending against the suprise guest. Alima sits upright on her haunches, tilts her head, and pops up an eyebrow. Her dagger filled grin is kept spread wide. El drags out a held breath and shakes her head, stowing the weapons for now. She signs, "Naughty cat."

"Hmmm…" Alima muses, eyeing the elf. A fleshy red tongue slips out and brushes over her teeth. "The knowledge of this new language you taught me is quite… tasty. I am most grateful. I assumed it would take more for Ardacen to teach it to me."

"He is a very generous man," El signs, a brief flash of something in her eyes. She glances over her shoulder at the area she was observing and does a double-take. With a shove to the ground, she's up in a push-up position and crawls over to the edge.

"This--" Alima also glides over and moves behind her, laying down and altering the Elf's silohuette against the sky. "--might be better for you. Speaking of Ardacen. Where has he gone off to? Any idea when he'll be back?"

Elsbeth shrugs her shoulders, eyes downcast as she withdraws her Mobile Ballista. Alima pops to her feet, eyes dialating wide at the sight of the contraption with all of it's gears, pulleys, and multitude of potentially moving parts.

"A weapon?" The Sphinx Boss asks, her silky smooth mental voice spreading across Elsbeth's brain as a low purring resonates from Alima's chest. El nods, letting it hang against her side in her grasp as she continues watching the rectangular plot of land where Conner and two Kobolds have captured a hob Scout, the Spinx's body masking her form and ballista well enough.

"You…" Elsbeth pauses, her hand and extended finger still pointing at Alima, "You won't help us fight, will you?"

Alima stares for a moment, blinks her eyes slowly and turns her ears toward El, "I have considered and reconsidered this thought more times than I normally would a thing so trivial." Her tail droops low, almost tucking between her legs, "At first I found it quite the trifle to my every day life. But the more time I spend learning from each person, the curiouser I became. There is much to know about even a single one of you. Without having to eat your brains, of course."

Turning her head away, Elsbeth touches her Whisper Ear Cuff and readies the ballista, unleashing it from its compact form in a whirl of gears and blade-like parts. The sudden movement catches Alima's complete attention and she eyes the weapon in total captivation.

"Like this thing here. The Trusco Mobile Ballista. What is it made of? How did you build it? What inspired you to create it?"

Her tail perks up and she aims her face at the Elf, "How did you lose your ability to speak? Were you always an archer type? Do you have a family?"

El smiles, "Linqs is my family."

Her sign for Linqs is a variation of the word 'link'. She forms the L with her right, and creates two circles with thumb and index finger on both hands, interlocking them over her heart.

There is a pause, long enough for hundreds of gallons to flow out of the falls and into the pond below. Alima considers several things before looking off into the distance. Her tail becomes rigid and tall and her eyes narrow into slits.

"I shall continue to observe, for now. I am not some guard dog to mindlessly attack those who enter my valley." She turns her head in the same direction as El, her tail lightly twitching. "However, I believe many of you have much more to learn and it'll make it that much easier for me to gather information for myself. Should something come along, threatening to trample my knowledge farm into the dirt, well…"

Her cheshire smile grows wide as her ears flatten, "I may have to bite off a few heads and learn what I can about these new interlopers. For now… are you going to show me how this enormous bow works?"

Elsbeth motions for her to wait patiently and points off into the distance. "I need more enemies in my range. The bigger the better."

"Hmmm… Do you mean bigger groups or perhaps bigger enemies?"

El retrieves a spear from her inventory and nocks it, she nods her head. It's a simple answer that needs no further clarification.

"Yes."

***************

If Dawn and Richter didn't just run into Erin and Arnold, the engineers working on Ardacen's case, they would've continued believing their friend simply bailed on the game. It's not like they could blame him, really, his mother's situation is a precarious one for sure and the prospect of playing a game while her condition worsened seemed unsavory.

Confused, the two spent most of their time in Dawn's room in amiable silence, working on some sort of business or on the phone with someone or other. They both agreed to contact Ardacen's lawyer acquaintance, but said little else to each other for a long time. When their food came, deli sandwiches from a shop down the road, it was a far cry from the previous "break-feasts."

They barely paid any attention to the TV as it droned on. The only note-worthy changes seemed to be Ardacen's drop to number two and Dawn's rise to number one.

Richter was about to open his mouth to congratulate her, but she slams her laptop shut from her spot on the couch.

"Where the hell is he?" Her frustation and hands are aimed at a clip of the two of them fighting the Harpy Matriarch. "Why does this kind of thing keep happening to him?"

Richter closes his as well, albeit in a gentler way, and takes a sip from a cream soda, "You got me, D. I can't even be glad that he's okay since, clearly, he's not. His moms, his number one spot, and now he's stuck just outside the game or something."

"I want to help him, but there's nothing we can do." She grumbles in frustration, absent mindedly reaching for a horn. In a split second of clarity her hand changes direction, runs through her hair, and catches a knot. She grumbles louder as she tries to work it out.

"Hopefully, he'll be in the game before we return which is in… Oh shit, we got, like, a little over an hour! I'll see you later, Dawn. Can't believe we used up twelve hours just like that." Richter scrambles to clean up his work territory and gather his devices.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, a lot of it was spent talking with Erin. It looks like Ardy has another fan."

"Who? Erin? Nah, bro. Just a celebrity crush or whatever, nothing like you-- er…"

"Choose… your next… words… carefully, Elf…" The threat in her voice was so thinly veiled that Richter could have sworn he saw her twirling her Thunderstruck in her hands as she spoke.

"Yeah… no…" He continues to stammer as he scratches at the back of his neck. "So, anyway, I guess I'll see you back in the vardo. We just gonna continue preparing for war?"

Dawn walks him to the door, raising an eyebrow at him, "Yeah. Look, we're not gonna happen the way you all think. Ardy and I… have an understanding. A level of respect."

"I get it. Champion to champion. Right?" She nods, a partial smile lifting a corner of her lips. After a full on, two-arm hug, they wish each other goodnight and prepare for another dive.

***************

The attack was so swift, so decisive, that the horde of hobs and undead take several minutes to regroup and scrape together defenses. Their shamans and clerics conjure domes of Mana and massive, wooden shields are lifted above their heads to protect them from the ariel assault. The time they wasted, however, was costly and they paid for it with dozens of lives.

"Gods, what a weapon!" Alima whispers in awe. Her eyes dart from the bow, the elf, and the enemies in rapid succession. "The ballistae I've seen used in seiges pale in comparison and you are but a single unit. You must walk me through its design construction as soon as time permits."

El nods with a wicked smile, nocking another spear and lighting the oversized bow with a dim, yellow light. The weapon itself is effective for its purposes, but what makes it stand above the others is the fact that it is considered a longbow. That means any Abilities the wielder has that necessitate the use of such a weapon will work in conjuncture with it. That is what makes this such a powerhouse of a weapon. That is why it is so devastating.

Her elevated perch and the slight bonus from her armor set combined with the distance and the raw power of a ballista, the single, Elven archer catches the army unawares and wreaks Fireball or Lightning Storm levels worth of death and destruction. It is something she does with great ferver. The usually solemn Ranger is almost so swept up by the awesome and terrifying destruction that she hardly notices the defensive measures being set up nor the massive grin spreading across her face.

A tuft of dark brown fur swishes across her cheek, down her neck, and over her shoulders, causing her to jump and look around for the playful culprit. Alima motions with her chin at the distance and El finally notices the domes of purple energy deflecting her efforts. Still, she places a triumphant hand on her hip and thrusts out her heaving chest, trying to catch her breath.

A blast from a horn erupts from her targets, something Elsbeth recognizes as a call for aid. Were they mistaken? Is there another force they are unaware of hiding somewhere in the valley? El folds up the ballista, sets it down, and raises both hands in front of her. Palms facing out, she uses them to block parts of her vision to focus on patches of area in the distance, moving in and out of Zoom. More horns blast out atonal notes and she finally catches the action.

A hob sergeant of some kind brings a small, engraved horn to his lips and blows, making it glow a dim blue. A blue magic circle appears nearby, rotating lazily on the ground on its axis. A flash of yellow light later and ten goblins in sparse, ragged clothes armed with wooden clubs stand where the circle used to be. They seemed angry and confused for a moment until a hob bared its fangs and barked an order that had them standing at attention, knees quivering.

Each resounding blast harolds another ten goblins and Elsbeth lost count of the amount of times she hears the accursed things. She takes up her weapon and launches a single spear towards the biggest cluster in her range. But, they're protected by a flashing dome of arcane energy.

El mentally curses to herself, knowing she has no choice but to communicate this to Victoria. A part of her wonders if she'll react the same way as Ardacen did, never having the need to talk to her in this way before.

Against the scouting parties and fringe units, the Kobold teams were an untouchable force. Against the stronger, well-armed, and magically fortified main body they were mearly an annoyance and after almost getting caught several times, they all agreed to gather in front of the Grey Lady where their Lieutenant waits for them.

Just like inside The Keep, a maze of earthen walls sits just before the entrance to the bridge. Meant to mainly compress and slow down the advancing forces, it was filled with all kinds of traps and devices of both physical and magical kind. Poisonous clouds and acid sprays will deal damage over time as well as weaken constitutions and armor. Paralytics made from the jub lub trees and Ardacen's Purple Haze poison will slow the hobs and gobs. They might not have any effect on the undead, but the lingering supply of Radiant Dawn Elixer gave them some breathing room.

As the final team joined them, Victoria gives a sigh of relief. Unharmed, but a little out of breath, Conner and his team collectively shake their heads, "Sorry, ma'am. We had no idea they were capable of summoning more forces like that, let alone that many of them."

"It's okay. We got their scouts and some of their casters in the raids as well as a good chunk taken out due to Elsbeth's long range attacks," Victoria commends them all with her hands on her hips. "Now we have to defend the Grey Lady for as long as we can. Ladies Dawn and Rachel and Sir Richter will be returning soon, but I'd like them to see that we're not wholly reliable on them."

She sees grins spread and heads nod at this, "This asshole may have chased us out of our homes once before, but we are no longer fragile yearlings, scraping by for survival. We are strong, made stronger with every battle, every success and failure on this long road of ours. Look into your Status Screens and you know what you'll see?

"You'll see a Feat, Wraithslayer. We all banded together and slew a demon from deep within the planes of hell whose only purpose was to create and wage war. That--" she points off into the distance "--man out there is no demon. He is nothing compared to that terror that we faced."

Her hand closes into a tight fist that she brings over her heart and the others mirror her salute. "We fight to protect our home and her people. We fight to avenge our fallen. We fight to avert more sorrow."

As one, the soldiers respond while the Kobolds stand in austere silence, "We are the armor, the blade, and the shield. Lead us, and we shall know victory. From victory, we shall find peace."

"Kah van uar Desha?" she asks, another phrase taken from the Lunar dialect of Elvish. (Can you make it so?)

"É va pelar keer." They respond in unison without any hesitation, their fists tighter and eyes steely. (If you command us.)

The first to appear from the tree line is a single, barefoot goblin. Ears twitching, it sniffs at the clearing and stares at the walls before it. It taps at the hardened dirt with the end of its club, before winding up for a full swing. Not a crack nor a crumble to show for its efforts, the goblin waves over to the foliage. A few goblins come out.

And then more.

And more.

Dozens upon dozens of goblins spill out of the trees like a wave of green, oily skin and gnashing yellow teeth, clubs waving about like branches caught in flash flood. They crash into the walls until one is lucky enough to find a narrow egress, wide enough for two or three to clamber in side-by-side, and they funnel through without further instructions.

Moments later, horrified screaming and gargled pleading in the goblins' grunting language freezes a good portion of the mob in their tracks. They gaze shiftly around, clutching their clubs and listening to their tortured brethren inside the maze. The gobs closest to the rear turn around in time for the hob force to arrive. Caught between a rock and a hard place, the little, green grunts don't know what to do next.

"Get in there, you useless snot buckets," a Hob Sergeant orders, booting one of them square in the face and sending it flying into a handful of his brothers. "Git! Or I be feeding you to that giant, bone lizard."

Cold fear spreads through the gobs, but the screaming behind them is enough to keep them rooted to the spot. More hobs appear from the treeline and the traffic jam gives rise to heated words and more abusive behavior.

Whips crack and goblins take involuntary flight as some attempt to throw them over the walls. Someone gets the bright idea to simply go around, but all they find is the stream and the bridge that can only be entered by going through the maze.

A handful of goblins end up in the water and the only one that surfaces is so much further down the stream that a Hobgoblin Tracker tosses another one in to get a better gauge of how fast the water is flowing. After a bit of laughter, they squabble over all manner of things.

"Guess we gots no choice. Get all dem gobs inside to set off all the traps!"

"Screw the maze! Blast it!"

"Idiot! All that dirt will just block the bridge!"

"Oi, speaka dem piles of dirt. What be those?"

They continue this way for a while, until arrows begin to rain down upon them. The "piles of dirt" on the other side of the stream are actually several earthen bunkers, built with horizontal arrow slits. Any return fire is shrugged off by the domes of rock and clay.

"I thought the crazy halfie say we fight cripples and weaklings? This feel like royal battlement."

"Incoming!"

A spear from the heavens finds the biggest grouping of hobs and gobs, exploding and engulfing them in a ball of fire. Off in the distance, a Lunar Elf receives an avalanche of damage notifications and kill screens. She celebrates the shot with the nearby Sphinx who purrs loudly in appreciation.

Dissonant screeching echoes wildly from the forest and it vomits a flurry of white into the air. Skeletal birds, birds in shape only, speed out in a dense flock to find to launcher of the spear. Flying through the air by magic, as there could be no other way for them to do so, scores of the head tall birds home in on Elsbeth on her perch.

Victoria shouts an order at her over the Whisper Cuff, but she could see that at their current speed the birds would reach her before El would get to cover.

Abhorrent cheering erupts from the throng of gray and green skins toward their aerial support, and it's cut short as one last spear craters the ground and incinerates more of them in a burst of red and orange flames. It may have been intended for the birds, but their swift movements prevented them from receiving harm on their path towards the Ranger.

"El…" Victoria hammers down her feelings as she focuses her aim on the incoming horde. She lets loose an arrow and an unearthly roar tears through the air at the same time. The others look over at her and she shrugs.

"That… wasn't me."

A soft, velvety voice sounds off in her ear, "Alima has me, Lieutenant. We're going to make a pass on The Keep. Please ask Kona and Seren to clear our tails."

"Heard. Meet us at Kes Mud once you're clear."

"Heard."

Vic switches targets of the cuff to Kona, "Kona, are you and Seren in position?"

"Yeah, what d'ya need?"

She rolls her eyes at the casual tone, "Keep your eyes up for Alima and Elsbeth. They have a flock of skeleton birds chasing them in the air. Eliminate the threat and maintain your position until Sonny and the others arrive."

"You got it, boss."

Breathing a little easier, Victoria glances at the bridge to make sure no one has gotten through yet and fires another arrow at an available target. A cold breeze kicks up, reminding everyone of the incoming season and the darkening sky promises something quite foreboding.

A single

white

snowflake

falls

in full view of the bunkers. The weather, it seems, is ready to invade as well. A gentle snow flurry sprinkles the battlefield. Already dressed for such an occasion, the citizens of Linqs have little to worry about, but the hobs and gobs force themselves to ignore the cold in their bone and leather armor. The undead won't be affected at all and will continue their march regardless of the temperature or weather.

In Victoria's mind, however, any change in the environment can have all sorts of unseen effects. She turns to the pale yellow Kobold with the blue ribbons on her horns and matching butterfly amulet standing on an earthen bench, "Milli, how are the Kobolds with the cold?"

"Not favorite, but not bad, ma'am. Milli hear once of blue Kobolds who prefer the snow and ice."

"As long as you can fight, it'll be enough." The little lizard lady nods and smiles, before firing the last bolt from a box and reloading with practiced speed and grace.

"Last box, Lieutenant."

"That's okay, Milli. We'll be moving--"

A grunt and a hand lunging to brace the bunker as she folds at the waist is all she can manage. The pain was more suprising than debilitating. It was a mild discomfort, like a sudden hit to the gut, and her face screws up to ease its passing. A million things run through her mind, first and foremost is the possible horrible timing of a beautiful event.

Milli is the first to reach out and steady her, "Lieutenant!" Conner and Haro are also there to help stand her up. Vic's face is still a tight grimace.

"Conner. If the hobs--"

"Not yet, ma'am, but we'll have Milli and Haro move you to Kes Mud first. Just in case."

"Nonsense. I just--"

"Permission to ignore your protests, ma'am, and see that my commanding officer gets to safety?"

"Den…Grrr… Granted," she says with a low growl through gritted teeth. Vic has enough focus to stow her bow and withdraw her shield. The Kobolds place her hands on the tops of their hooded heads and guide her at a medium gait.

She yells back over her shoulder, "The moment they start setting off the traps on the bridge, you lot better start falling back!"

"Heard!"

Through the twists and turns, Elsbeth clings desperately to Alima's mane. Dozens of angry squawking trails close behind, but she can barely hear them over the air rushing past her ears. Of course, she can still hear Alima's mental commentary and she takes note of the jovial tone she seems to have.

"Fascinating! How do they fly without feathers? Can Necromancers truly produce such wonders?"

In her own mind, regardless of whether the Sphinx can hear her or not, Elsbeth responds with, "We'd be happy to serve his head on a platter for you to find out, but first I have to live through this!"

"Of course, of course little moon Elf. Estes vien ambor."

"You calm your tits!"

A throaty, purring laugh erupts from the Sphinx as she flies past a spot near the aperture of The Keep. Storm clouds gather around a magic circle in the air and streaks of lightning race across the incoming birds, hitting one and jumping through most of them. Fried and stunned for a brief moment, a follow up ball of explosive, arcane energy envelopes a majority of the creatures.

Serenity stands stoic, wand outstretched, as Kona rubs the knuckles of a fist into her eyes, whipping her tail erratically. "Argh! I forgot to turn off my notifications," she bemoans, hunched over and blinking up at Seren who kisses her forehead.

Reacting in an instant, the Infernus sees something behind her and shouts out for them to take cover, but isn't in time. A dozen of the birds who survived the attack retaliate by swooping by and slashing at them with their razor sharp wings.

With her arms already up, Serenity protects her head and leans over to protect Kona, causing them both to drop to their knees. The sturdiness of the armor stops a majority of the potential damage. From under her guardian, Kona summons an Arcane Dome, the bigger brother of the Arcane Shield, that easily encompassed the two of them.

Whipping around and brandishing a strip of wood with purple runes in a white knuckle grip, Serenity shouts at the flock as it banks for a return pass, "No! Not my Kuzzh!" The last word comes out in a deep, gutteral voice with a hint of soot escaping her lips and a flash of darkness across Seren's eyes ("Kitty" in Infernal).

"Kiss of the Bronze Dragon!"

The wood strip turns to ash and, like water released by a floodgate, conjured clouds rush and swirl into an eddy that shapes itself into the visage of a twelve foot tall dragon's head right above the protective dome. Its maw opens wide as a surge of countless electrostatic discharges instantaneously search for a proper ground. They find it in the birds, dealing an irreconcilable amount of damage. The formidable light show over in mere moments, nothing, not even loot sacks remain of the creatures.

The tip of an upthrust staff stops a inch from Serenity's chin, causing her to flinch back in suprise, nearly hitting the Mana Dome. Tracing down to its weilder, a scowling Kona, she searches the Faunus' eyes for an explanation.

"You used up one of your runesticks for small fry!"

"S--Sorry. I-- I-- I thought--" But what she thought was cut short by a quick peck on the cheek and a head nod to the sky. Elsbeth waves and Alima blinks her eyes at the two in thanks, before flying off to join the others at Kes Mud.

After whatching them leave, Kona turns to Serenity, "Shouldn't we go with them?"

Seren clears her throat, "Well… you said… Lady Victoria… told us… to protect The Keep."

"Couldn't we protect it from over there?" She asks with a shrug, withdrawing her Flying Broom. "Besides, with this we can zip back in no time."

"Well…"

Before she could offer a proper arguement, Kona swings a leg over and mounts her ride. Her dress flutters and she beckons the Infernus with a head motion and a raised eyebrow.

"Going my way, little lady?"

As Serenity readies to slide behind Kona, she notices the flirty look morphing quickly into something else. Her one, raised eyebrow scrunches toward the other at the middle, her grin slips into a pucker, and her eyes squint at the distance.

"Is… that…?" Kona brushes her Whisper Cuff, "Sonny? Is that you?"

"Seven minutes, Kona! Where's Vic? She's not in range."

"Kes Mud. Is that really the airship?"

"Yeah. Need a ride?"

Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, but Serenity is already snuggled up behind her. "Er-- Guess not. We'll meet you there. Dawn and the others should be back soon, will you wait for them?"

"Yes. It'll be better that way. You two go, we'll rejoin you as soon as we can."

The first shots have been fired.

The pieces find their places on the board.

The battle for the valley has finally begun.

All over the world, players are donning their crowns and slipping into their pods to play a game. In a hospital, a woman holds on to the edge of a mental cliff, dangling over the edge of an abyss. In between nowhere and somewhere, a man and a snail race to return him home. In an ornate chariot, a Halfling grips the reigns of his destiny and slips quickly out of control. In a false city, a warrior who has taken many lives is afraid for the new life she will bring into the world. In a virtual world, the line between fantasy and reality blurs beyond recognition.