A War on the Continent (IC/FanT/Signups Required)

[Alegeharia]

Command Tent, Carburg Isle

---

Malik:

Malik sighed as he landed back to the command tent waving at Argalaic. He patted Ichar’ien on the head wagging happily, stretching some having been on a long ride on a dragon, he was much more used to flying around with his own wings! Ichar’ien was yawning, still not use to the magic that unleashed his “adult form” he nudged Malik and slumped down lazing. Malik giggled and looks over to see if Arge would join them, his voice changed as he started to talk to Ichar’ien. “Have you finally gotten to see how styrax is?” Through the bond between dragon and tamer he could speak his dragons language, albeit telepathically for the most part, he could still talk and understand vocally as well.

Ichar’ien:
“Pfft, doesn’t seem that tough… Hey you got any treats on you? Being large is rather tedious you know, need treats to continue.”

Malik:
The pup smirked at the dragon’s response and stretched some more. “You could always shrink back down you know? If styrax isn’t so tough take him in that chibi form you favor eh?” Malik giggled as the dragon rolled his eyes .

[SF n F]

Eastern Shore of Carburg Isle

No sooner had Damnage finished that sentence than he was once again encircled in Phaenix Fire.
"Oh no," he said softly.
"Fear not, my friend," said a voice that echoed all around the undemon. And then it was all changed. Damnage levitated, suspended over the command tent farther up the shore. From there, he could plainly see the tracks left from the recent battle. It made him think again about the massacre. Damnage was a veteran of more than one hellacious campaign, and it didn't take him long to realize just how savage the fighting had been. But the god of the Phaenix obviously had other things in mind for him, as he slowly hovered down into the tent. As he did, a voice that was at once vast, deep and bird-like came from the sphere of flame that surrounded him.

"Your Majesty, my loyal servant and, yes, friend. I give you one who can be of great aid to you in the days to come." There was a laugh. "Please do what you can to ensure that he survives those days." And with that, Damnage found himself deposited smack dab into the middle of the tent. As he found his bearings, something hovered down to just in front of his solar plexus--an Etherial Communication Broach. Damnage snatched it out of the air and instantly began to hear the talking of his people. There was also an image that he couldn't get out of his mind, but he decided to deal with it later.

"Buzby, anything on where that portal came from? We MUST find--!"

So he entered the conversation.

"It's alright! I'm alright. The portal was from one amazing VIP--we have been in direct contact with the god of the Phaenecians!"

"So what did he say?"

Damnage raised his voice so that others could hear. "I'm not sure. Has anyone found any evidence of an avalanche somewhere near here?"

[Shwe Tu Colony]

The two soldiers, choking and outnumbered, decided to surrender...

Nor watched as the men choked through the turquoise gas clouds left behind by his Su-Buchuni, his deep-underground eyes and body linked by magic. Hmph, rather easy, he thought as he burrowed up. Wait... A hardened mushroom cap grew on top of his head, and he burst through the floor just behind the two men. Something's off. He returned underground, circled around them, and poked his head out from the side, this time shielded by a ring of one-way window mushrooms, while puffs of Su-Buchuni gas-light floated around his position, weaving this way and that, left and right, up and down, and exuding their typical aura of negative emotions, of Nor's pain and hatred, of his grief and regrets.
The memories that could be gleaned from reading them, if anyone chose to, would have been vague, and often the details and events were more trite than revelatory. Some small exchange turned sour existed in an anxious meld of similar mistakes, similar flaws that, though individually weak in their emotive energy, somehow meant so much more via the Su-Buchuni's manipulation, but anyone trying to draw power from those gaseous memories would find little of substance, nothing more than brief, inconsequential moments. The spirits were infamous for this sort of amplification, for the way they seemed to herald greater troubles, if only by dramatizing the smallest of mistakes, in insisting that, somehow, the tiniest remark could slip into the cracks of one's mind, expand, and poison it. But, House Su-Xiāo was trained to imbibe their own emotions, or those of their enemy, and use it to power their partner's magic.

Then came the dark figure, and Nor linked his breath to his mushrooms to hide it, allowing them to breathe silently for him. Silent Monarchs, right next to an eldritch abomination was the last thing I wanted. As an Elf, the dark energies of the strange figure were toxic, unnatural, and for once he was thankful for the sinister knowledges and protections of House Zhong-Que; Yuki, the daughter, had warned the Penglaireans to be careful while casting her charms and the like, and she said to be careful, but she always did.
For once, her concern was justified, and as far away as Baerwan was, Nor sensed a similar disgust from the rest of the Penglaireans, but no attacks, no movement. With a quick spell from his mind, he grew a recording mushroom in front of him upon hearing the figure speak, figuring that the Psytrines would be delighted to collect a new language.
When it disappeared, he burrowed back to Baerwan and his bramble. "Well, Nor," the Chun-Kodama patriarch said, "seems we're in for more than we bargained for. Much, much more."

"Should we invite the rest of the Houses?"
"Huh." He shook his head no, and his bow-branch wrapped back around his arm, its lustrous leaves and jewel-like fruit swaying in the wind. "Not our battle, nor our war. Just here 'cos we got nothing better to do, that's all."
"Let's hope it stays that way." With that, Nor pushed past the bramble and looked down at Eglantyne. "But I'm sure one way or another, the Parfuhmerians will blabber it on."
"Oh, trust me, I'd expect 'em to. You know how they are. Always braggin' about their charity. Then again, I suppose they've never been in the wrong, or maybe that's just Sekka's PR office being connected to everyone and everything."

Meanwhile, Eglantyne picked up the girl as she fell unconscious, and the Domeses closed her eyes, humming a lullaby as she turned around; the unknown figure and its speech had left her entirely unfazed. Caleb stretched a strand of fabric out, and upon seeing that the girl was asleep, he sent his ribbons out, dragging himself into the scene. "She okay?" he asked, one back-ribbon hanging over her like a nervous snake unsure of whether to strike. "Should I..." A nod; no beat of humming was missed, and twisted white spirals formed and rotated in the air and from the ground around her. Each step summoned more and more; each step coalesced these spirals around her and the girl. Caleb watched the mesmerizing display, the strange effects of Genetics magic. Some sort of healing spell, it seemed, some way to integrate rapid-healing genes into her target, and a twinge of regret came over Caleb.

He stepped forward, but felt no power come over him. His ribbon, as it watched over the girl, pulled away. That genesis so long ago, when his cloth step inspired fear rather than rejuvenation, brought a shiver over him, and he brushed at his hair. This was not do or die, life and death, where an unstable burst of himself was workable, when it was enjoyable and justified, when he could smile at the joys of bringing the euphoria of the everything. Yet, if he could not again control his ribbons, as that time long ago— if he really had not become any better, and was still that impulsive brat...
Eglantyne paused. "Come up, Caleb."
"O-oh, uh, sure, Eglantyne." His ribbon inched forward, grazing against the girl's chin and the rest of her bloodied clothes. So fragile, like freshly-spun threads of silk.
"Something the matter?"

"Well, uh, I was just thinking, what with her clothes— I can't do things like you do, and all." Eglantyne relaxed, and a fresh aura of serenity wafted forth from her. Caleb stepped forward, and his doubt wavered in his mind as he saw the Domeses's smile. "Well," she said, "how about you try?"
"That's kinda the problem. She's not like clothing or anything, and most of the people I do tailor on-site, they're usually conscious, so I dunno if I should... It's harder to control my strength for a kid like this— she can't tell me if I'm using too much energy." Another step up.
"This is about someone else, isn't it?"
"Just a little, I guess." Caleb dragged himself up to Eglantyne with his ribbons, hanging off of her back and wrapping two strands around her legs. Then, he turned his fabric neck to watch over the girl, and a fourth ribbon returned to hovering over her. "It bothers me a lot, you know?" One of the white spirals touched his head, and he absorbed it.

"Did that help?"
Caleb brushed at where it had touched. "Dunno."
"Just try. Trust me."
"And what if you're not enough? You know what I can do, Eglantyne. I know you felt what happened when I was made."
"Oh, Caleb." She chuckled and brushed at the girl's hair. "For the children, I'll stand against the gods if I have to. I'll stand against you. I'll stand against Psytronius. Nothing comes before them."
"Even me?" Then why didn't you stop me?

"Perhaps." The ribbon over the girl flowed down, still uncertain. "Come on, I told you, I'm right next to you, Caleb. You can do it if you really want to."
"Well, it's more like—"
"No time to be pedantic." An arm, coalesced from the twisted white spirals, pat his head, and the cap on top of him floated up, then down. "Just do."
"If you insist..." The ribbon dove downward, and he felt each stain of blood, each thread of fabric, each stitch in the girl's clothing. Here we go... He split his working ribbon in half, letting one part perfectly replicate the dress at Eglantyne's side, while the other attached itself to the girl, letting his magic flow across her clothes, just above a barrier provided by Eglantyne's magic.

He realized that the barrier was weak. Part of his power struck against it, and the barrier shattered easily, but he proceeded no further, and resumed his tailoring work until, eventually, the girl's bloodsoaked attire was replaced by a new dress of comfortable cotton, with her old clothes having been effectively transferred off of her. A few lines of green ran down Caleb's gift to her — it was nothing much, just a small detail to accompany her. At the same time, the boy had been running a quick analysis of her, for what had made the girl so interesting to that figure?
Better yet, did Eglantyne know? With the way she strode away without comment from the unknown figure, he couldn't tell if it was confidence in herself or a sense that something was with this girl that two soldiers chased her, and her specifically. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to tell, what with how foreign this land was, but he was sure that eventually they'd learn.

Soon enough, they brought her to Kaspar Poppy, who performed his own scan for injuries. Behind him, Gorzvora glanced at her and opened a medical supplies cabinet, and one of his hands hovered over a box of bandages depicting cute dogs. Apparently, he had that.

[Zhenshiwa]

The Command Tent, Carburg Isle

"I fear that says more about your continent than it does your nation." Shikinami stated pointedly, addressing Numeri with a contemptuous scowl. "If you are unable to persuade your men to heed orders made in the Emperor's stead, perhaps you should allow someone else to take up that task..." Her eyes fell to one of the ISLF troopers standing among her, then back to Numeri. "My force at present is insufficient to make a difference in upon the land, mostly made up of the ISLF contingents stationed aboard each of my ships. They number little more than a few thousand in total, and are experienced, trained more for sea and amphibious combat. Moreover, they are loyal to Myself and their cause. Allowing them to deal with prisoners and refugees would free up more of your own more experienced soldiers for the front line, would it not?"

She briefly glanced at the ex-demon, preparing to agree with his appraisal of the situation, and to give her thanks regarding his support of her position. He had apparently vanished in a ball of fire. Considering that he had arrived just as abruptly, however, she wasn't overly concerned over his safety. Suspecting the undemon would return momentarily, the Empress instead turned her attention to Argalaic and his offer to observe the 'Red Arrow'. It was an intriguing prospect, and so she nodded in agreement, following him outside the command tent in subdued excitement.

"The arrival of your 'Second Fleet' will likely prove interesting indeed." The Empress spoke as she walked with Argalaic, lacing her fingers together at her waist. "If it would be of any assistance, I can detach one of my Escort Fleets to... Well... Escort it, and any other shipping you deem necessary."

The Empress' guards remained cautious, but heeded the warning of Prince Argalaic with surprising readiness. The threat of a 'Rogue Dragon' was bad enough, but to have one of such terrible size suddenly become hostile in the presence of Her Imperial Majesty? Unthinkable. The Empress herself, however, observed the powerful creature with astonished awe... Styrax was beautiful, her every breath radiating power unlike any the Empress had seen of even the largest Zhenshiwanese dragon. This dragon, nay... This being... Was all that had been described in the Ancient Texts, when the Great White Dragon of Josai had first descended from the stars and sewn the first seeds upon the island that would eventually become home to the Zhenshiwanese people. Yet Styrax was no a fable of religious teachings, but a real, living, breathing creature. The Empress had seen her before, but at that point she'd been running for her life... Now, there was time to truly take in the awesome sight.

"Magnificent..." Shikinami said quietly, looking between Styrax and Argalaic before offering respectful bow. The Prince now held a different place in the young Empress' mind, as he was more than a capable leader or warrior, but a man with the apparent respect of and for Styrax. Were he Zhenshiwanese, Shikinami would likely have named him Grand General of Dragon Riders... A rank that had been bestowed only once before, to the man that had first tamed Dragons centuries before. He was not Zhenshiwanese, unfortunately... He would have looked rather handsome in the uniform of the Grand General... Her respect and admiration for had grown ever still. "That you can work together with a mount of such size and strength is a feat I had first to witness before I could truly believe."

Shikinami's attention was drawn once more inside the tent as the ex-demon returned just as abruptly as he'd departed. Asking about avalanches of all things...? Now there appeared to be an animal-folk arriving on yet another dragon. Today was proving to be a strange one indeed, and the Empress had to wonder just how the rest of her people were faring...

Lt. Tomanaga Takeo, Detached from the Imperial Armada, Aboard Dragon Carrier Delta...

Takeo looked over the desert offered him, briefly contemplating partaking in it... Why not? He was to be polite in the presence of his new allies, wasn't he? Just as he had picked up the cream, however, the room fell silent and he came to the realization that it was simply not to be. Duty to the Empire came first, there would be time enough for foreign treats when his honorable task was complete. Setting the cream back on the table, Takeo quietly stood from his seat and bowed respectfully to the man that had served as his host, then turned to the man sent to collect him.

"Of course, I will meet now with his lordship, there will be time for food later. I am unsure if the magic you use to speak to me extends to my host, but should it not..." Takeo paused, gesturing to Lothar. His mind returned to the map of Josai, though only briefly. "Please extend to him my deepest gratitude for his welcoming me aboard. He has given me much to think about..."

IZN Obsidian Dragon, DCV-4, Flag Ship of the Imperial Zhenshiwanese Navy...

Sato examined the sword within its ivory white casing as the translator bestowed Lord Knarlson's own greeting, the Admiral's eyes traced every inch of blade in all its stunning detail. The workmanship that had gone into the box alone was impressive, but the sword was without a doubt one of the finest he had ever seen... It also represented another sign of the differences between the two cultures. The sword at his waist, and indeed the waists of most of his other officers, were elegant and beautiful in their simplicity. Folded steel, simple guards and handles. The overall design of the weapon had not changed considerably in several generations, to a point where to do so was generally considered distasteful.

The sword presented to him, however, could be regarded without distaste, for it was the product of another nation. Presented as a gift from one warrior to another, he could not refuse it, even if he wanted to... Which he didn't. Where the traditional Zhenshiwanese sword was beautiful in its simplicity and adherence to tradition, this sword was beautiful because of its intricate detail and golden facets.

"I humbly accept your gift, Lord Knarlson." Sato stated respectfully, taking the sword from its case and testing its balance in his own grip. "Perfectly balanced, as all things should be..." He returned the sword to its container, then gestured for one of a small group of gathering junior officers to take posession of the box. "Deliver this to my quarters with utmost care, the Empress will likely desire to see it upon her return..." The officer bowed and moved to take the box while Sato gestured for Knarlson to accompany him towards one of the elevators that lead up to the flight deck from within the hangar.

"Your expertise is most welcome, these seas are unfamiliar to many of my commanders." Sato continued. "How best do you believe we might utilize our fleets to assist you and the other allies?" As they were walking, a petty officer rapidly approached, bowing hastily before offering a message slip to the admiral. Quickly reading over it, he hummed. "On second thought, let us go to the Combat Control Center... I suspect we shall soon be needed there."

Somewhere Over the Sea, Nearing Ushund, 97th Naval Air Group AKA 'The Night's Disciples'...

"Heading is consistent, we're still on course..." Izanami announced over the helmet communications as the squadron of Escort Dragons made their way vigorously towards the redesignated target. Even as they moved, details of each dragon and its rider were being relayed back to the Imperial Armada with the aid of numerous enchantments placed upon the helmets. Even if that had failed, however, they had just flown over yet another small squadron of destroyers steaming along at full tilt towards their same destination. They were picket ships, the larger fleet comprised mostly of destroyers, light and heavy cruisers, and a single battleship would be along shortly... The battleship was slow and lumbering, had it not been present the fleet would already be at its objective.

The Strike Dragons had been recalled, as they would only slow the Escorts and limit their ability to engage the hostile air forces above their new destination. The mission had changed from hunting enemy shipping to establishing and maintaining air supremacy, specifically by ensuring the destruction of the accursed 'copters' that had been spoken of following the initial battle at the Wedding.

Cerberus adjusted the collar of his jacket as he recalled the briefing all had received upon their departure from Josai... The copters were formidable against ground targets and surface ships, but it was unlikely they could out maneuver an Escort Dragon, let alone more than one. That was the accepted strategy at the moment, the squadron would break into pairs, each pair engaging a hostile target. One would bait the copter if necessary, the other would slot in at its six o'clock and torch it. Upon confirming its destruction, the process would repeat as needed, until each of the wretched contraptions was wiped from the sky.

Grappling the copters wasn't an option, as the rotor blades would severely harm a rider's mount... Of course, if a mount was already destined to crash and its rider close to death, it was expected they would make the greatest sacrifice for the glory of Her Imperial Majesty and all of Zhenshiwa. Cerberus shook his head, Izanami wouldn't want him thinking like that before going into battle. As her wing man, it would be his duty to aid her to the best of his ability, and he couldn't do that if he set himself on playing hero. Patting the neck of his mount, Cerberus narrowed his eyes and scanned the skies ahead. Their squadron number thirty or so in total, plus the other squadrons from the other carriers in the Armada... He had to wonder just how many hostile copters they would need to destroy.

"You know, from up here? This place doesn't look so bad." Izanami said in his ear, obviously speaking on the person to person channel now. "Would you hold it against me if I told you I'm not so sure about what we're doing here?" Cerberus glanced over at her, peering at her from beneath the tinted glass of the helmet visor, silently asking for more detail. "They say these Pheanixians treat elves very poorly, or... Anyone they don't like, for that matter." Cerberus stared back at her, then looked down at one of the destroyers below, then back at her. "I guess that's why we aren't admirals... Can't see the bigger picture as well. Let's just get this done, if only so they know it was an elf that lead us in battle." The woman looked over her shoulder, back at the rest of the squadron, swapping back to the general channel.

"We've got a hard day ahead of us, but his is what we've trained to do... Let's make those Union pilots wish they'd never strapped into their harnesses." The Flight Commander stated in that same confident way of hers while Cerberus wordlessly continued to monitor their surroundings. In the distance he could just make out the gray splotch of land that would soon become a coastline. "Brass Hat, this is Stygian Flight. Confirming our Strike Element has fully detached, we are running lean and clean. Request alteration of callsign to Spectre One, to distinguish with returning Strike element."

"Affirmative, Spectre One. Hold current course and speed but do not stray over land at this time. Cherry Tree is conferring with Kalmarnavian Command Element, we don't want to risk any friendly fire incidents." A distant sounding voice sounded through the helmet... Great, now he had to look for copters and 'Friendly' dragons. "That said, if any hostile targets present themselves and pose immediate threat to our naval assets you are cleared to engage with extreme prejudice."

"Understood, Brass Hat." Izanami responded, once more flipping to the person-to-person channel. "You know the old saying... Hurry up and wait. Well, no use wasting time. Let's double check our boys are nice and limber..." With that, the squadron began the careful task of ensuring their mounts were ready for any maneuvers that might otherwise awkward. Hopefully they'd get a chance to actually show what they were made of.

[Kalmarnavia]

Carburg Isle

Argalaic couldn't hold back the smile that crept across his face as he saw the wide eyed wonderment in the Empress' eyes. It took him back to the day, all those years ago, when he first glimpsed Styrax on the. Dragon's Keep.

Styrax seemed to sense the Empress too, for she was no longer grimly blowing smoke out of her snout in the direction of the guards but was instead staring directly at Shinikami. Her eyes were shining like pools of molten gold, her slit like pupils now wide.

"That's as close as Styrax comes to saying hello!" Argalaic chuckled.

He looked up at his dragon, and cocked his head. Arge stared for are half a minute, judging what mood she was in. He smiled.

"Your Majesty, I invite you to please step closer. You may touch her, if you wish. This will be a public symbol of the bonds between our nations, which will be solidified in seven days time when our Second Fleet shall steam alongside yours."

Dragon Carrier Delta

The officer relayed the pilot's words to Lothar, who beamed with pride. His mind turned to his little boy Magnus, how awed he would be, how proud that by entering the service of Lord Orjorden, volunteering for this war, he had gone from simple farmer to great diplomat. He put his hand upon his heart and bowed. A few eyebrows were raised, for this was a sign of deepest respect among the people of Frondheim.

The officer turned back to Takeo.

"This way please, Ser. His Grace is most eager to meet you properly."

They walked through the twisting, bulkhead filled corridors of the narrow superstructure to the bridge. On the top step outside of the bridge, the officer paused.

"Pardons, Ser. What is your name again?"

Inside the bridge, Radnor sat in a wide backed chair. Rhaena stood to his right, the commander of the carrier to his left. A small Honour guard had been formed, with the two lines of ensigns who made up the show snapping to attention as the door opened.

The officer stepped in, and bowed.

"You are now in the presence of Radnor, of the House Wend, a Prince of Kalmarnavia. Your Grace, I present unto you Lt. Tomanaga Takeo, envoy of the Imperial Fleet."

Radnor stood with a smile. The commander gave a small bow, while Rhaena remained where she was.

"Twelve blessings upon you, Lieutenant. I am glad to meet you on solid deck and now from dragon back."

Radnor paused to allow the officer to catch up with his translation.

"As the most senior ranking member of the Royal family-"

Rhaena coughed in a very poor attempt to stifle a laugh.

"- by my greater proximity to the throne present aboard this particular vessel, I have been tasked by my dear cousin Prince Argalaic and his second in command Ser Dontas Greenbow to liaise with you to allow you to gain a greater understanding of our forces, indeed of our people, so that you may relay this to your superiors and we may forge a deeper alliance on that basis."

Radnor walked forward, still smiling.

"I understand you feasted below with the crew. Do you have any questions from your time among them? We are a diverse Kingdom with the Six Realms each having unique attributes. Or do you have any questions directly from the Imperial command?"

IZN Obsidian Dragon

Lord Aeron smiled as the Admiral swished the new sword.

"The finest smiths in Sethenland forged it with steel from the deep mountains of Dormvark and gold from the mines of Nunaatland. I am most pleased you like it."

He urged his ensign to stay close as he marched across the deck after the Admiral, his steel tipped cane clacking.

"In all honesty, Admiral, these waters and lands are almost as alien to us as you. We have the texts and the sagas, in Islandia particularly, suggesting in the times before the Conquest and up until a few centuries ago there was not a stretch of water that the longships of the Houses did not sail. But I know my way around a war. I have brought enough rum with me to warm many a belly, and shall be glad to tell you of our fights with the ice pirates over a glass or two...but to the deployment of forces."

Lord Aeron nodded appreciatively as he entered the bridge. The Zhenshiwanese were clearly dedicated to the construction of their ships, for this was a magnificently appointed command area.

He gestured to his ensign as he spoke.

"We should firstly engage with the Phaenixians to obtain charts of these waters. Your ships and our Second Fleet are large enough that they could be endangered by underwater obstacles, so accurate information would be required. Your ships, even when our remaining fleets arrive, will be the dominant force on the waves. The bulk of our coming fleets are troopships, we have enough destroyers and cruisers to defend them but not enough to dominate. My advice is that we presently deploy your ships along with half of our advanced fleet to close these shipping lanes and keep the water clear of enemy ships."

He turned to the radar screens, showing the dragon flight.

"If your forces are approaching Ushund, be aware that Chiron and Princess Ollena are there. On my way here I am certain I saw Valerion approach his carrier meaning Princess Helena has vacated the field. The Princess should know that your forces are friendly... Particularly if the Union attacks."

[Phaenix]

Carburg Isle

Numeri let a scowl creep onto his face. The guards present tightened their grips on their rifles, and one even growled a threat in Phaenixian.
"She dares to insult us!? The nerve! We have ruled unopposed since the dawn of time, and we will continue to rule long after their pathetic island sinks beneath the waves!"
Numeri composed himself once more when Damnage reappeared, though froze upon hearing the voice of the Great Phoenix. After bowing to the voice, Numeri motioned for the slaves to bring in wine and food as he summoned a magical map, which showed the positions of all forces in the area. Pointing at a group of blue triangles, Numeri spoke mostly to himself.
"Here is the Kalmarnavian naval force, and here," he know pointed to a group of green triangles, "is the Zhenshiwanese ships."
At the Easternmost edge of the map a group of red triangles appeared, with several smaller triangles circling them. Numeri chuckled.
"And it seems here are the Durikadi. From the looks of it, a carrier and five frigates, along with a good twenty copters."
The smaller triangles broke off from the main force and began approaching Carburg. Alarms were raised and marines rushed to their battle stations, the few remaining Lorians being hastily thrown into a cage. The large anti-air guns stationed throughout the isle began scanning the skies for any signs of the copters. One marine pointed to the sky, shouting, before the emplacement he was at exploded. Marines were thrown from the burning wreck, and in moments the other guns had been silenced. Numeri stood and walked out of the tent.
"This shouldn't be possible! Copters don't have the range to take out our AA!"
The figures coming out of the clouds, however, were not copters, but strange metal dragons. They flew with unnatural grace, unlike most Union machines which looked as if they were about to explode at any moment, and began breathing fire onto the camp. Men screamed as they were engulfed in blue fire, and a group of Archmagi began chanting, fire running off of them like water.
"O Deus de Imperii, Veni in mundo ure sata et Haeretici!"
With that, a hole opened in the earth, and a great burning giant, dressed as an ancient Phaenixian legionary, arose. Grabbing one of the Harbingers, the giant crushed it in its hand, however it was toppled when another Harbinger slammed into its head. Falling, it exploded, killing the Archmagi and many marines. One Harbinger landed near Numeri, who drew his sword and charged. The Harbinger raised it claws and parried the blow, however Numeri stabbed his dagger into the Harbinger's exposed chest, killing the beast. Raising his sword, Numeri shouted.
"Stand your ground! Aim for their hearts!"

Ushund, Fortress Courtyard

Titus' eyes burned red as he felt the Great Phoenix, and the Emperor collapsed. The images of metal dragons burning the Imperial camp was seared into his mind, and with a gasp he spoke, albeit it shakily.
"T-the camp is under attack. Metal dragons have destroyed our anti-air, and there have been many casualties."
Looking at Ollena, Titus tried, and failed, to push himself up. Before losing consciousness he spoke.
"You must...hurry. Union fleet...almost...there."
With that, Titus fell unconscious, and several of his Phoenix Guard rushed forward, ignoring the intense heat radiating from his body, and carried him towards a medic.

Roskilde, the Great Stables

The last of the Union mancers fell, but not before a great yell, almost a cheer, came from the portal. As the smoke cleared, a lone figure, easily eight feet tall, stood where the portal had been, black sword raised, as if leading a charge.
"Arhav, kyani! Nawat, yhe'wen p'raag eht Unone Do'aim!"
The figure turned, and a low growl escaped his helmed face.
"Que'ai? Eht scula'n unoni usuna arhav qo chal'ekhar M'yhe? Osa'ghi, Ehze ush dahshu eht sal'acti qo khal!"
With that, the great figure moved with unnatural speed towards Gravalax, chanting the whole way. With every word it spoke, dread grew in the hearts of all present.
"Mag'khat d'naio Gravalax! Ehze, Cau’ackzi-Azfhelalid, zhrah uzahe qo thio ush! Uhis ka ehze uhis’tiq!"
If one was attuned to magic, they would see two forces battling for control of the great dragon. One, red and old, fought with flames and claws. The other, black and fierce, parried the red's attacks and slashed at it's weakpoints. As the red figure was slowly beaten back, Gravalax visibly grew more relaxed, slowly moving towards the figure.

[Kalmarnavia]

Fortress of Ushund

Ollena wasted no time. She grabbed a Phoenix Guard by the arm.

"Tell Ser Tallart we're under attack. With the Emperor incapable, follow his lead."

With that, she sprinted over to Chiron, who was roaring and spurting flame skywards. She had barely clasped the belt of the saddle before her dragon took to the air.

From her place, Ollena could see the smoke and the chaos unfold. Far off, she could just make out the enemy fleet. She grimaced, and urged Chiron to make for the island.

Dragon Carrier Delta

Alarm bells rang out in the bridge of the carrier before Radnor could continue.

"Your Grace! Another attack! Ships, soldiers... And... And... Metal dragons??"

Radnor turned to Rhaena, who nodded before running out of the back door.

"My apologies, Lieutenant, but we are needed. You may retrieve your mount and join us, or you can remain here with the officers as they organise the carrier defences."

With that, he tore off at a run followed by his guards.

By the time he reached the stable, Orion was airborne screeching bloody murder as Xenia urged him on. Rhaena was mounted on Jacobus who was eager to join the fray. He cambered up on the saddle at the nape of Zanthar's neck, and clicked the great chains.

Zanthar shot up like an arrow, followed by Jacobus. As they climbed, Radnor stared in awe.

The ships of the fleet were forming a protective formation around the carriers who's own guns were spooling up. From the carriers, came the dragons.

Victarion roared loudly enough to raise the dead as Raenor drove him on, with Sunsmoke and Mermadin close at his wings.

Radnor raised a fist in salute as his old Uncle Ajax tore past on Starflame, who's bright yellow and orange flecked scales shone in the sunlight. Starflame roared as she turned west towards the oncoming enemy fleet, followed swiftly by Valerion. Princess Helena's cape snapped in the wind her mount pressed on.

Radnor and Makar's brother Samson was below, his small dragon Betazar skimming the waves as he approached the island. Uncle Viserys and Uncle Aegon were already on the scene, with Romulus and Remus both pouring flame onto the enemy. Radnor gave a shout, and Zanthar dove with a roar.

Carburg Isle

Argalaic spun round. He could not see the fan close by, all he knew was that the shit had hit it. Before he could react, Styrax lunged forward. She stood over Arge and the Empress, using her left wing to shield them and her right as a barricade from behind which the Empress' guards could give fire.

Styrax provided enough fire of her own, roaring and engulfing the unholy machines in burning flame. From above, the dragons of House Wend rained hell upon the enemy. Argalaic watched a clutch of the mechanics explode as Mermadin swept over, while Remus dove to grab one his claw before tossing it like a stone.

The enemy aircraft overhead were no match either, and he watched as Victarion swatted several with a wingbeat.

Those which got too close Argalaic was happy to take out with his rifle, but he sensed danger was pressing far too closely. He turned to the Empress with his hand outstretched.

"Your Majesty, it's too dangerous here. Come with me, aloft we will be in a far better position. Styrax will carry you with me."

Roskilde

The sky was returning to normal but the danger had not passed. The King watched in horror as the creature moved in on Gravalax.

The poor old creature was roaring and thrashing, clearly fighting the forces attempting to cajoul him. The roars were not of anger but of pain and distress. Gravalax was in pain. Unholy pain.

The mages tried casting every spell and incantation they could to drive the demon off, even to turn his attention to them, to spare the poor creature. The High Magus stepped forward his eyes glowing.

"FINALITZI AQUESTA BOGOSA I AQUEST DOLOR. DÉU DELS VELLS, AJUDEU AL SEU SERVEU, DEFENDEU-LOS DE LA FOSCURA SANG D'ERÀLIA, SANG DE VELL, NO ABANDONEU ELS BONS FORJATS!"

Gravalax's eyes, milky as they were, glowed white and then snapped to normal. The spell seemed to have worked, for he reared up roaring angrily at the demon. Flames spouted from his jaws.

Then suddenly, they extinguished. Gravalax gave a howl, a horrible unearthly noise. His front legs slipped, then gave way. The pale light in his eyes vanished. The ancient dragon, the last living thing to have seen the Conqueror, to have known Six Realms with six Kings, collapsed to the ground on his side with a crash.

King Jahaerys gave a scream of anguish, that mixed with the roars of Asterax. It was a roar that echoed off every building of the Kungshallen, all through the city. Lightning cracked overhead, and on the shores of the Isle of Flames the other dragons howled in agony.

Asterax snapped angrily, lunging into a shallow dive. Those who remained in the yard ran screaming as the massive dragon loomed over the demon.

"Foc."

With that single word from his rider, Asterax opened his jaws and unleashed the fires of Twelve Hells upon the demon
.

[Phaenix]

Roskilde, the Great Stables

The figure disappeared under the relentless storm of fire. Yet laughter could be heard, dark and full of malice.
"Ah, mortals. You tame greater beasts than yourselves to accomplish tasks too difficult for your frail bodies to handle."
The smoke cleared, and the figure stood, armor melted, to reveal...something. Several guards present gouged their eyes out as they went insane, its true appearance to nightmarish for their minds to comprehend. Those of stronger will vomited, for the creature was a mess of eyes, tentacles, and what looked like bile. It laughed, and spat out a glob of viscus fluid.
"You mortals have such weak wills. I am Warrior-Undefeated, and I will make this petty kingdom my own, and once my brothers and master come into this Realm, we will take this world, and those beyond!"
With that, Warrior-Undefeated absorbed Gravalax's soul, and even those without magical talent could see the ancient beast's soul scream as it was absorbed. Another laugh escaped Warrior-Undefeated many mouths, as the Outsider turned on the mages.
"Heh heh heh. Your souls...they are practically begging to be eaten," Warrior-Undefeated pointed his sword at the mages, "and I am happy to oblige them!"
With that, the Outsider charged, making to skewer the mages with his sword, his right arm raised to cover his now exposed face.

[Tentaklia]

The Prophet's office, Temple, Tentaklia
"Your Holiness! Urgent news!"
Sydney Lexington, a member of the Prophet's staff, had rushed into the Prophet's office. His business suit made a stark contrast to the Prophet's colourful robe.
"What is it?" the Prophet, Sah Rimnir, asked in response.
"It seems that the Rhodar-Gozari Union has declared war on the Empire of Phoenixiah."
Sah Rimnir was confused. This seemed to come out of nowhere. But he is not omniscient. There must have been some conflict brewing that he was simply unaware of.
"Thank you for telling me, Sydney. This is important news indeed."
Now, the Prophet wondered, was there a way to use this? Phoenixiah had been threatening Tentaklia's border, eager to re-absorb it, ever since Tentaklia declared itself independent eight years ago. There hadn't been any actual battles in a long time, but there had never been an official peace, so the threat of Phoenixiah was still looming. Perhaps this was an opportunity to strike a decisive blow? Or getting involved would just reignite the conflict, costing even more innocent Tentaklian lives. Ruling a nation involves many difficult decisions.

Later
Admiral Rowena Williamson of the Tentaklian navy had been called to the Prophet's office. She was nervous. Despite the fact that she had risen to such a high position as admiral, whenever she was in the presence of the Prophet, she felt like she was unworthy of this honour. This was the greatest man alive. He had completely changed her life and many others. How could she, a mere mortal, even begin to deserve the honour of looking at him?
"So, Rowena. May I call you Rowena?" the Prophet asked, while he was completely unaware of what was going on inside the admiral's head.
"Y-yes, Your Holiness."
The Prophet seemed so casual. But of course he would be. Acting like he was superior wouldn't be in keeping with the teachings of Tentaklos. He was superior of course, but he couldn't acknowledge it.
"I have a mission for you."
A mission? From the Prophet himself?
"I have received intel that the Rhodar-Gozari Union is at war with Phoenixiah. This creates a valuable opportunity. If we help the Union, we can weaken the Empire and make our own border safer. This is a war which must be fought on two fronts. Back here, we will strengthen our border. Meanwhile, I want you to take five battleships with full crews, along with 5000 infantrymen, and add them to the Union's forces. Do you accept this responsibility?"
She could hardly believe it. The Prophet was entrusting her with this mission! If she succeeds, they could finally be free of the threat from Phoenixiah. She must not disappoint him.
"I accept."

Several days later, The Union Capital
Rowena had finally arrived in the Union capital. As she was greeted by the representatives of the Union military, she introduced herself. "I am admiral Rowena Williamson of the Tentaklian navy. Now, let's kick some Empire ass."

[Kalmarnavia]

The Kungshallen

The Chief Mage smiled, and he and his fellows took flight l.

"Foul daemon, the Gods shall punish your defilement of their child."

A strange heat haze filled the air, and suddenly the clouds darkened. Lightning cracked, and where there had been a troop of mages there were now a hundred. Mirror images of each other, white magic crackling in their hands.

With a screech, Asterax landed with a thud in the Courtyard. His red pupils narrowed to slits as he lowered his neck.

King Jaeharys stood up on his saddle, his golden armour slick with blood.

"There is but one King here, and you are looking upon him. Your foul, diseased form does not affect me. I am a Child of the Blood, and you have met your end."

His hand went to his scabbard, and light poured forth as he unseathed his sword.

It was the sword that had been passed down from the Conqueror to every King of House Wend. Its blade was black, and shimmering, obsidian melded with the sharpest dragon forged steel. Deep spells had been forged into it, foul sorcery from the darkest recesses of Old Eralia.

This was Darkclaw, with which Six Kingdoms became one. With which darker spirits than this had been crushed.

Jaeharys lifted his sword skywards, the blinding light disappearing as lightning struck it and the metal burst into flame.
The King's eyes glowed white, as did those of all of the mages. They all spoke with one, unholy, ethereal voice.

Parlem amb una sola veu. Parlem pels déus. Has contaminat el nostre regne sagrat. Has matat un fill dels déus, el poder del qual no és teu. L’alliberem de vosaltres i us expulsem al pou d’on veníeu.

Asterax roared forth fire onto the demon as his master rose up into the air. The mages shot forth bolt's of white magic through the flames.

Once the flames died, Jaeharys launched himself through the air at the demon, Darkclaw glowing with unholy fire.

"DIE! Die you demon bastard!"

Special Forces Airship, deep into Union territory

The shadowy soldiers knew not their final destination, but they knew their purpose.
They readied their weapons, checked viral equipment, and monitored their vessels systems.

Deep in the hold, Alpha and Omega were at work.
The device in front of them was no larger than a football, but as they lowered the explosive core in and primed it, its innards glowed with a sinister green light.

The Union had been playing dirty with their homeland. It was time for the men of the Six Realms to strike at their very heart.

[Zhenshiwa]

IZN Obsidian Dragon, DCV-4, Combat Control Center...

The Combat Control Center was perhaps the most advanced room aboard the ship, protected within the vessel's citadel of armor, it contained cutting edge enchantments grafted to aid equally advanced technology. The screen before which Sato and Lord Knarlson stood was evidence of that, displaying their current flight of Escort Dragons that would soon be above Ushund. He was about to concur with the lord's recommendation of deploying the fleet to secure the sea lanes, and had briefly paused to order information of the Dragon Squadron be relayed to Princess Helena. Just as he was about to give the order for the fleet to begin altering its course, however, there was a flurry of commotion from one of the stations at the far side of the room.

"Admiral, we are receiving reports of a hostile force attacking Carburg Isle!" An Ensign announced as he stood from his seat before one of the innumerable glowing consoles, holding a message slip in his hand. "Flying steel dragons, and a surface fleet of approximately five ships. Possible ground assault, information is spotty at the moment. The safety of the Empress is unknown." A hush washed over the room as Sato quietly retrieved the message slip, displaying it to Lord Knarlson with a stony expression.

"Dispatch a pair of Surface Task Groups to engage the enemy surface ships, detach five additional destroyers from one of our Convoy Escort Groups to make for Carburg Isle." The Admiral ordered sternly, folding the message slip and pocketing it, his posture becoming rigid. "Have our Strike Dragons returned from Ushund yet?"

"No, Admiral." One of the other men in the room answered.

"Unfortunate..." The man grumbled, quietly looking at the floor. "Order all ships to General Quarters and prepare for air action, with the combined Anti-Aircraft capabilities of the Armada, any attack against us will be easily blunted. Have our carriers move to the center, just to be certain... Deploy another flight of Recon Dragons, I do not want to be caught further off guard. Any remaining Escort Dragons will likewise be deployed to Carburg Isle." His eyes turned to Knarlson, the stoic expression on his face belying a hidden concern. "This talk of 'metal dragons', attacking Carburg Isle no less?" He clasped his hands behind his back, scowling more evidently. "We were lead to believe the island's security was well in hand... I would never have allowed Her Imperial Majesty to attend a War Summit there, were the risks made more clear."

"Once we have dealt with the enemy force, and ensured the safety of the Empress, we will revisit your suggestion of fleet deployments." Sato continued, his tone becoming apologetic, and then cautious. The fleets would take time to redeploy, but already a pair of STGs and five Destroyers were making for their varying destinations. He just hoped the ships would be quick enough to make a difference. An announcement came over the Carrier's PA calling its crew to General Quarters, followed by the loud rhythmic 'gong gong gong' of the general alarm. Sato, however, remained outwardly unfazed."For now, I ask your opinion of our 'Allies', these Phaenixians. Thus far, I have found them to be... Sporadic, unreliable." He took on a more genuine demeanor. "I am aware it may be my personal bias, which is why I seek your counsel. Have you had similar misgivings?"

Lt. Tomanaga Takeo, Detached from the Imperial Armada, Aboard Dragon Carrier Delta...

Briefly considering the options provided to him, Takeo snapped his heels together and bowed to the departing Radnor. His mount was a Recon Dragon, fast, small and nimble... It was also poorly suited to the task of direct combat, as the same slight size that afforded it such long range meant it lacked any appreciable offensive capabilities. He would therefore remain behind for the moment, coordinating with the Carrier's defense officers and likewise observing. With any luck, he would learn something new about how to defend against an air attack... That was information he would relay to the Armada upon his next report. For now, however...

"What can I do to be of assistance in preparing your defenses?" He asked, urgently waiting for the reply.

The Command Tent, Carburg Isle...

"Give your lives for the Empire!" Declared one of the naval officers that had accompanied the Empress, drawing his sword from its sheath while the ISLF troopers took aim at several of the approaching hostiles. Heeding the advice of the Pheanixians, they aimed for the center of the enemy's chests. While there may have been differing duties within the ISLF, it had been founded with the mantra that each of its members was first and foremost a rifleman, and their accuracy was considered second to none within the Empire. While the wing of Styrax would offer momentary protection, they were already searching for a more permanent and defensible position. "Get out of here, your Imperial Majesty! We will hold them off!"

In the distance, there came the thundering boom of the AA guns aboard IZN Hononoyama, the ship aboard which the Empress had arrived. It would be only a matter of time before the ship's main battery came into play, already its Captain was radioing seeking targets on land for it to bombard. Puffs of flak and arching tracers meanwhile filled the sky, disorganized at first, but rapidly focusing on the largest threats first. Thick smoggy smoke poured from the ship's funnels as her anchor chain was abruptly released, splashing down into the water and allowing the ship to get underway. Hononoyama was by no means the fastest ship in the fleet, she was built to take a beating and keep fighting, and that was exactly what she would do... Her escorting destroyers and cruisers were far more nimble, adding their own fire to the chaotic fray, screening the massive ship as best they could.

Shikinami looked at her guards, witnessing the determination in their eyes... Then to the clouds of flak filling the sky. Not since that terrible day all those months ago had she seen such things, when she had sworn she would see an end to any and all threats to her people. This was just the start of a much larger battle, one that would quickly plunge her people into the thick of things... The war had arrived, and as much as she wanted to remain to stand with her men, she knew there could be no victory if she was slain.

"Those who fall will be remembered with honor." Shikinami vowed solemnly before turning to Argalaic and taking his hand. There was no shouted protest from the guards, they understood what was at stake. As she was pulled onto Styrax, she could hear them screaming death chants... Chants likely not uttered since the Empire's last land campaign. When the Empire had first started to industrialize, there had been those that sought to resist the change, some through force.

Ultimately her Grandmother had been forced to put them down through use of the military, and yet despite their defiance to Imperial Rule, these rebels were nonetheless held up as the spiritual ideal all soldiers of the Empire ascribed to... Willing to stand for what they believed to be right, no matter how astronomical the odds, facing certain death with nobility and grace. Shikinami couldn't have been more proud of those men growing smaller upon the ground. Upon the wind, she could hear the faint order from below to 'affix bayonets'. Though her face remained calm, tears nonetheless ran down her cheeks... Undoubtedly from the soot and smoke in the air, at least that was what she told herself...

[SF n F]

Command Tent, Carburg Isle

To tell the truth, Damnage had never been in the actual presence of a god who was benevolent before. The fare that he had dealt with ranged from ambivalent to outright hostile—and this was a refreshing change. The demon-no-more realized, of course, that he had been put on this whirlwind tour only because the Phaenix realized that his heat-resistent constitution would allow him to survive it where others would not—and he was more than passingly aware that he was not being shown the greatest of respect in the way that the god had whipped him from place to place, giving him only enough time in any one to see what he was supposed to see.

Damnage had no problem. He was the instrument of a god now, and that meant a little less coddling than might otherwise be given.

Still, he was in the command room and no one was trying to tell him what a good boy he was by patting him on the head with blunt instruments, so he decided to make himself useful.

The first thing he did was stretch out his hand and molest the war map once but good. Not surprisingly, being non-sentient, the thing didn't mind when he had his way with it. But he learned something more pertainant from doing this: the people who made the map did a better job than they realized. By feeling the mojo of the various icons on the map, one could get information about the things that they represented.

And the information that flowed up the hellspawn diplomat's fingers to instantly darken his brow with anger was that the metal dragons attacking the isle were powered by stolen souls.

He clenched his broach.

“OK, Buzby, this is Damnage. New orders. We've got an enemy instigation on Carburg Isle using necroactive airborn mechs. We need help!”

“Got that, Damnage. Sending a division of mages to that location.”

That was all that could be done. The terms of the treaty that had been struck called for humanitarian aid only. The Etherials had been strict in their requirement that they could only engage in direct combat if either the enemy were itself abysmal or the Union forces were foolish enough to knowingly, directly attack them. Barring those conditions, this would have to be a proxy war.

No sooner did Damnage finish this than he felt another ball of fire engulf him. Instantly, he found himself in

Ushund, Fortress Courtyare

Damnage shook his head to clear it and the first thing that greeted his eyes was Emperor Titus collapsing to the ground. The Phaenix must have been doing something to the Emperor that was similar to what was happening to his Diplomatic Magistrate. But the Emperor was only human. He wouldn't be able to take the vast heat.

As the Emperor's guard walked in to aid him, ignoring the heat they felt, Damnage joined them. But Damnage was born and bred to withstand even higher temperatures, and got to the man first. Fortunately, the guards recognized him and spared his life.

So he spoke to them.

“Alright. I have the authority to make one special, full-power use of each of the Patron Angels under my management. This will be the first. Her name is Sister Aurumula, and she's the best healer...in her price range.”

When no one said a word, Damnage got to work. “Buzby, we've moved. We need Aurumula. The Emperor is a little too divinely inspired and needs to cool down before he spontaneously combusts!”

“Got that, Damnage. Aurumula is in transit.”

Momentarily, a ray of light shown down from above, and, when it disappeared again, there she stood. It was impossible to tell how old she was, though she looked reasonably youthful. Her hair was blonde and her body was well-formed but lanky. She wore leopard print pants, a pink halter top and a feather boa. Jewlry bespeckled most of her body, including several necklesses and one pair of rose-colored glasses.

“Well met, my sister,” Damnage said.

“Let's not waste time. That's him, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She moved her hand to one of the stones on one of her necklesses, and it started to glow. In a moment, a bathing station more than fit for a king appeared around the Emperor. The water slowly began to boil.

Aurumula reached out her hand. One of the stones on one of her rings began to glow. The boil slowed.

“This is going to be tricky,” Aurumula said. “We've got to dissipate the heat fast enough to keep him from frying but slowly enough to keep him from going into a massive shock.”

As she spoke, the bath glowed red for a moment, and the visage of the Phanix could be seen as a reflection on the water's surface.

“Then again,” Aurumula said, “there's always such a thing as divine intervention...I think he's going to survive.”

“Great!” Damnage exclaimed. “Pheanix, you rock! And so do you, my sister!”

And then yet another fireball formed around Damnage, and he found himself being taken away As he left, he could see portals opening up around the command tent and a division of a new type of combat magus spilling out of them. He felt proud...as he was whisked to...

Roskilde, the Great Stables

...the edge of a battlefield. And in the center was something that he could easily recognize.


Variant beholder.

Back in his infantry days, they were often used as shock troops. There was a heirarchy. And the gargoyles were pretty near the top—well above the beholders. And Damnage even knew why. The gargoyles were smarter.

And this one demon-strated this fact by ignoring Damnage even as he got in touch with Buzby to report what he had found and request two combat mages to deal.

It was too busy making a silly speech about being a king, drawing a silly little weapon and making a silly charge at the nearest 'noid.

The fool! He was going to try to deal with the thing directly! All he was going to get himself with that approach was covered in a disgusting yet powerful stomach acid.

Damnage had to do something quick. That thing was already in midair. There was almost no time to stop what Damnage knew would be comeing.

Old soldier's addage: if you can't stop the battle, turn your enemy's stength into a weakness.

Snapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnap!!

These things weren't smart, but they were hardy. A normal blindness illusion wouldn't phase one much. But a gazillion illusionary mouse traps each snapping on one of its eyes at the same time—that would distract it enough to hopefully spoil its aim and thus spare the life of the soldier who had arrayed himself against it.

“Rahge-ach dek ge-eet chidhoch-ach!”* he thought to himself, in the native tongue of the demonic royals. He planned on reintroducing this arrogant blob to that language.

*King of my toilet!”

[Kalmarnavia]

Carburg Isle

T'Kaliq emerged from his tent into the smoky air. He looked around and saw one of the metal dragons staring at him. He tossed one of his blunderbusses- in truth, a modified handcannon capable of firing a 3 pound ball- to Siganeld and shot a shell through the heart of the metal beast.

"Let's be having ya!"

Styrax poured forth flame, roaring with unbridled rage. Argalaic deftly scaled the side of his mount, pulling the Empress up as he went. Reaching the saddle, he ensured the Empress was secured with the safety bonds.

"Hold on to the saddle horn, Your Majesty. This is going to get bumpy- VOLA!"

Styrax shook her head and charged forward. Allies dived aside, emies were driven into the mud like screaming tent pegs. With a few swoops of her giant wings Styrax was aloft. Mermadin gave a screech of shock and reared to the left as Makar hauled his reins, shouting inaudible abuse at his cousin as Styrax swooped passed.

Argalaic shielded his eyes with his hand. His kin and their dragons were laying waste to the enemy, but the incoming artillery and flak were hazards. Zanthar swooped passed, and took a shell to the body. He roared in agony and dropped, but soon rose again. Argalaic could see Radnor fighting to keep his seat, struggling in the smoke. He decided it wasn't worth staying to fight, not least with the Empress beside him.

"We'll make for my fleet, we'll be safe there. They have it well in hand here, Your Majesty, and I won't risk you."

Styrax roared as Arge directed her path to Carrier Alpha. Wind rushed onto Arge's face, and instinctively he leaned over to gentle fix flying goggles over the Empress' head and onto her eyes. The situation was frightening... But he would be no man at all if he didn't allow her the means of seeing the world as the gods saw it.

The smoke and clouds cleared as they descended. The Advance Fleet had enacted 'Shell Protocols', forming a floating shield around the carriers. Every gun scanned the skies for any approach of enemy aircraft, but so far they had remained preoccupied contending with the dragons.

"We'll be safe aboard the carrier, Empress. I shall have word sent to your admirals once we land."

Styrax slowed and stretched out her feet, thudding onto the steel deck of her enclosure. She lowered herself down to allow Arge and the Empress to exit the saddle. Crew and officers raced over, and Argalaic immediately started barking orders.

"Send word to Lord Knarlson that we have the Empress! I want those guns fully manned, nothing slips through! What Ushund, and my sist- oh damn you all where is your sense of deference!"

The crew suddenly snapped to attention, bowing low to the Empress, before making off for their duties.

"Princess Helena has gone with your Uncle the Prince Ajax to attack the enemy fleet, Princess Ollena remains has just joined the fray over Carburg."
"Take us to the bridge... And bring the Empress something to drink and wipe her face with."

Carrier Delta

The ensigns stared blankly before the officer translated for Takeo. The Bridge commander gestured to him.

"Here, Lieutenant. This screen shows the skies above. If anything red flashes in one of these squares on the grid, then press the button next to it here. The big guns are operated from here, one shot will finish just about anything."

The rest of the ensigns ran to their posts, strapping flak helms to their heads. One popped a helm on Takeo.

"Best be prepared friend this could get wild!"

The sea off Carburg Isle

Starflame swept low over the waves, smoke pouring from the sides of his jaws. Prince Ajax could see out of his one good eye that two of the Zhenshiwanese ships were steaming towards the enemy fleet. He signalled with a clenched fist to his niece who was soaring above him.

Helena understood, and with a click of the reins Valerion swooped low to pass over the Zhenshiwanese vessels. He gave a roar as he tore overhead. The putter patter of flack guns indicated the Union ships had found their range, so Valerion climbed higher.

Dipping down in an arc, Valerion dove over one of the approaching Union destroyers with a roar. His jaws swung open at Helena's command, and flame poured over the ship. Starflame reared up in front of the ships, light shining through his massive red wings. He roared as Prince Ajax raised his sword, before launching forward and unleashing fire.

IZN Obsidian Dragon

Lord Aeron easily kept his feet as the flagship lurched onto its new course. He smiled at the professionalism of the Zhenshiwanese sailors, thinking how well they would fit in aboard a ship sailing under the golden Kraken.

He turned to the Admiral, gesturing for his translator to come closer.

"I have yet to deal sufficiently with our other allies, Ser, to pass comment. But aye, we should urge closer cooperation. Do not fret for your Empress however Admiral- Prince Argalaic and our men will keep her safe on that island. He has his dragon with him, and Styrax is not one you should seek to piss off."

[Phaenix]

The Waters around Carburg

Valerion's fire found the DRN Stormbreaker's munitions, and the Durikadi ship exploded. The crews of the Stormbreaker's sister ships, the DRN Maiden and the DRN Wrathbone, were not perturbed by the destruction of the Stormbreaker, and instead kept making for Carburg Isle. The flak guns opened fire on the dragons, but the crew seemed strangely still, with those not firing the cannons simply idling in place. The rearguard, composed of the DRN Blackthorn and DRN Thunder, was also strangely quiet, with the only noise coming from the occasional firing of the flak cannons and the hum of the engines. The great carrier that held the Harbingers, the DRN Chaosborn, was the only ship that showed that the crew were still alive. Union soulmancers stood on the runway, straining to control the Harbingers, and a few Durikadi pilots. The carrier held no armaments, as it had been designed to carry up to five hundred copters, but the copters were grounded as to not distract the Harbingers.

Carburg Isle

Siganeld caught the blunderbuss and aimed it at a Harbinger, the metal ball tearing through the creature's heart. It fell dead, and Siganeld turned to face the remaining Harbingers, only to find that they were heading towards Ushund. Numeri realized this also, and had sent out a single radio message.
"To all Imperial allies with naval capabilities, Union mechanicals headed for the Isle of Ush, presumably to find the Emperor. Carburg's anti-air capabilities are down, and we will not be reinforced until the Second Fleet arrives tomorrow, with five-hundred ships and the entirety of the Fifth, Eighth, Tenth, Ninth, Eleventh, Sixteenth and Twelfth Legions, a total of seven-hundred thousand legionaries."
With the battle over, the surviving marines dragged their dead to a hole they had the Lorian POWs digging, throwing them in as a priest chanted the Orationis Mortuorum.
"Ut haec animarum, o Morteos, ad praetorium de Magna Phoenix. Eos deducere eorum et illi praemium. Dabo eis bellum aeternus, et gloria sine fine!"
The marines stood solemnly by the grave, before returning to their duties, seemingly unperturbed that half their number now lie dead. Siganeld, not one to feel grief, grabbed a flask from a dead marine and drank, before going to find a place to piss.

Roskilde, the Great Stables

Warrior-Undefeated stopped, his blade inches from the mage's face, and growled in anger at his momentary blindness. Turning towards the sound of King Jaeharys, Warrior-Undefeated shrieked.
"MORTAL FILTH! I WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL! I WILL BURN YOUR LINE FROM THE D'NAIO-VHELI! I WILL-"
Before it could finish, Darkclaw sliced into Warrior-Undefeated's form. The unholy fire licked the Outsider's flesh, and it swatted Jaeharys off of him, but the fire continued to burn.
"RO'MIX! RO'MIX, SE'VIUD SAN'KAT THION! EHT PHYARIS SCORI!
The Outsider screamed, but nothing answered it. The fire burned into its very essence, and Warrior-Undefeated melted, its armor clanking to the ground, before shattering.

Delkopi, Harbor of Unity

General Vladislav Mäsiar stood before Admiral Rowena, clad in the brown uniform of the Union Armed Forces. He looked over at his aide-de-camp, before speaking.
"Ah, we are not familiar with the phrase 'kick some ass,' but from the way you spoke, it means nothing good for those Imperial scum. I am General Vladislav Mäsiar, Commander of the Eastern Front. This is Colonel Dominik Jankovič. We are not quite familiar with your nation, and he will be taking notes so as to...understand your culture."
Vladislav scowled.
"Those Imperials would've simply destroyed any trace of your culture if they would have their way. But luckily," the general smiled, "we will not let them."
Vladislav motioned for Rowena to follow him as he turned around.
"Come, let me show you Delkopi. We may talk as we wait for the Prime Senator to finish his inspection."

Fortress Courtyard, Ushund

TItus opened his eyes and stood, groggily. He turned to see what had caused him to faint, only to see his men genuflecting. Agitated, Titus yelled.
"What in the Phoenix's name are you doing lying on the ground? Did I not say that THE CAMP IS UNDER ATTACK!?"
Just then, TItus looked down. He was on fire. Not in the metaphorical sense, but literally. It was not painful, but rather soothing, and when he looked back up, his men were muttering prayers. Enraged, Titus extinguished the fire, stepped forward, and grabbed the commander of his guard by the neck.
"Commander Lusisse Aquilam, tell your men that unless they wish to meet the Great Phoenix in person, they will get up and fight!"
Aquilam shakily saluted, before rousing his men to action. Titus sighed, and turned around, only to feel a metal claw grab him by the shoulder. Legionaries screamed as he tried to slash at the Harbinger that grabbed him. Yet his blade could not pierce its armor, and he felt himself being taken with the beast as it flew into the sky.
"Someone shoot this infernal beast!"
Titus shouted, yet as he looked down, he could no longer see Ushund. Titus cursed, and attempted to use magic to get out of the Harbinger's grasp, but that failed, so Titus resigned himself to being flown to wherever the Harbinger wished to take him. At least until he was rescued. Looking around, he expected to see Zhenshiwanese dragons, as he had been told of their dragon riders by his spies, but he saw none.
"Dammit, Numeri. Did you tell them not to assist in protecting the straits?"
The Harbinger said nothing, and Titus returned to his thoughts.

Phaerixian Hinterlands

As the girl was being treated, her eyes shot open, clouded by a black mist. Her mouth opened, and a voice, echoing and powerful, both feminine and masculine, came out.
"Who dares to defile Morteos' chosen? This is the rightful Empress of Phaenix, Virilis Auriana of the Black Line of Merovingiac. She is the last of the Merovingiacs, and the last of the True Children of this land, the Theringi, and I am her defender, Morteos, God of Death and Daggers."
Virilis' eyes turned to scan the Psytrines. The god's eyes squinted, and it spoke once more.
"You are not of this land, and yet you have saved my chosen. You have my thanks, and I will reward you. I will have you guard Virilis, at least until one of my followers can come for her. This is my will."
With that, Virilis' eyes cleared, and she rubbed them, as if waking from sleep. Turning to the Psytrines, she spoke perfect common.
"Who are you? W-what happened to the bad men?"

[Callid]

Psytrine Portal, 10 Minutes Pre-transit.

Streaks of pure blue mana surged under and inside glass tubes inside the floor and walls and linked up to the portal, guarded by two towering Titans, their raw magical energy encircling their arms as streaks of lightning. A man with sky blue hair and dressed in a white pilot's outfit was examining some assortment of Parfuhmerian cargo to the side, with its green-skinned Demon merchant smoking next to him; neither paid much heed to Henry. Next to them, an Elven man in a dog's mask sat on top of a shortbow, his legs kicking on the side of the cart, and he glanced at the Callidian as he passed. Some Domeses or another, it seemed, for there was a constant surging wind around his feet, but he was making no use of it as he stared at the wall on the other side of the pathway leading towards the portal.

As Henry approached the swirling purple of it, another person's voice reverberated from the speakers above. "Welcome, Harry Harrier," it said, drawing the brief attention of the dog-masked man. "I am the Domeses of Management, Jeremy Sentinel. While I traditionally link up with those who operate alongside Psytronius, in order to keep track of their health, I do understand if this may be a concern to you as a Foreigner, and I do not believe that your physiology would work with my technique. Before you enter, do take one of the Psytrine Dogtags at the rack next to the portal. It will allow you to indicate your location to me, which I can use to relay to a nearby Domeses or other operative. Thank you for joining us in these missions, and may you encounter good fortune."
“Thank you Domeses Jeremy, and may you find success in all your endeavours,” Replied Henry Harrier.


Psytrine Portal, 1 Minute Pre-transit.

Henry Harrier stood in front of the Psytrine Portal, finally finishing up the (extensive) list of pre-transit checks. “Stabilisation systems Online. Power systems Optimal. Kinetic shielding disabled. Checks complete.”

That last one was a necessity; they still weren’t sure how it would interact with the Portal, but most predictions didn’t turn out well if it were online; something about gravity induced destabilisation. Either way, it didn’t sound good, so despite the risks involved, it was staying off until they could get more equipment through their own portal to take some proper readings. Stepping forwards, with just the slightest hint of hesitancy, he entered the Portal, his helmet automatically shutting down video feed in case of any Memetic hazards. The transit should only take a couple of seconds at maximum, but he still didn’t like it at all.

Despite the magic on display previously, he still didn’t entirely trust the Dimensional transit systems. He’d seen what happened when Callidian systems went wrong after all; he was one of the only people left alive who had, but he’d been assured that there was no real risk here. He was drawn from his contemplation by a jolt as he phased back into reality.

As he emerged back into realspace, he looked around, taking stock of the situation, his helmet video flicking back on. He recognised this place from his briefing: the other end of the Parfumerie portal system. It looked like it had worked as intended, a fact for which he was grateful. He had no desire to be thrown somewhere potentially thousands of Kilometres off-course after all.

Stepping down from the platform, he looked around the grasslands around him, his helmet HUD already highlighting the optimal path towards the city of Phaerix. He took a second to cross reference it with the map he’d memorised previously. While the HUD was far more accurate that he could be, it never hurt to double check the destination. Luckily, they aligned perfectly, and he swiftly walked down the highlighted route.

[SF n F]

Roskilde, Great Stables

“Excellent form, your magesty!” Damnage called. Behind him, The rotund form of Sister Abacus appeared. But Damnage knew enough not to judge that book by its cover. In addition to being a powerful mage, Abacus was a warrior of surprising might—and she was also amazingly light on those muscular feet of hers. Alongside her came Brother Chronicity. Older, balding, with a monicle and an hourglass that he wore in a necklace, he, too, moved with surprising grace.

“Alright, then,” Damnage said, “let's close up that portal.”
Both nodded.

Abacus reached to her left side and drew a rune-encrusted sword. The moment it came out of its scabbard, it began to glow with Holy Light. Chronicity merely closed his hand on his hourglass.

“Ready?” Chronicity asked.

Abacus merely nodded. She pointed the sword at the portal as Chronicity opened his free hand. Beams of Holy Light lanced straight into the portal. Amid screams of tortured pain, it began to shrink.

“OK,” Damnage said, “it looks like you have things under control here.”

“Your magesty, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Damnage, son of Smashmouth, Head of Phaenecian-Etherial Diplomacy and Special Royal Magistrate. Hopefully, when this is all squared away, we can meet and speak over fine, strong drink.”

Then his communicator broach buzzed in.

Fortress Courtyard, Ushund

Aurumula was almost in shock. No sooner had she—with the help of a diety—revived her patient than things went crazy. All she could do was watch.

At length, she remembered her communication broach and made an emergency call.

“Damnage! Damnage! Please be there!”

“I'm here, Aurumula. How's your patient?”

“It's awful! A horrible war machine blew through his honor guard as though it wasn't even there, took him, and started flying off!”

“WHAT?!?!”

“Buzby! If you heard that, portal me into the command tent! This is an emergency!”

In a moment, the last thing in the world that Aurumula ever thought she would trust was standing back where he had been a few minutes before.

“What about the honor guard?” he asked.

“They tried—but the thing just—just—,”

“Got it. Alright. Heal the survivors, if any, and then get to safety.”

Damnage looked around, and found yet another friend who seemed to be somewhat in shock.

“MALIK! WAKE UP!”

“They kidnapped Titus! We need to track 'em!”

Not much later after all, Damnage found himself airborne, of all things, following the kind of dragon that he normally fled from—one with the kind of rider that he used to engage in battle, but was now his ally.

[Alegeharia]

Command Tent, Carburg Isle

---

Malik:

Malik Turns to Damnage and looks up to Ichar’ien who was staring at the weird creature with a piercing gaze. “Oh relax you big baby it’s just Damnage, he is a demon that got turned into a angel.” They were fying now, on their way to where Damnage last saw Titus. “I hope tubby is okay…” He pats Ichar’ien on side, more so for himself rather than his friend. Malik looks back at Damnage, oh the mysteries of a defector. Aither was a demon, but he never thought of conversion, Malik did not even think it possible. He churred enjoying the high speed as they pressed on, not sure what he was going to walk into he decided to summon his holy armaments the blue light of his halo intensifying has saintly light formed into a sword and shield in his paws, the sword a strong blade draped in his holy blue light.

It should not be much longer before he gets into the thick of it. It was about time too that he steps out into the fray, he thought about his look for a second, some common paw wear, capris and a rolled-up dress shirt… not the best for defense. He spoke in enochian asking for his father to bestow some temporary armor. He could have used the back up suit in his gauntlet. But that tech was too advanced for this place, he wouldn’t have been able to achieve a good deception for that tech. Instead his body grew bright blue as it started shaping into a fitting form. Once the light had died Malik was wearing a half plate covering the top of his torso but exposing his midriff, he had armor on his shoulders and forearms, on his legs were linked armor plates for maneuverability that protect the front of his legs with armor made to fit his special canine legs and paws.

Malik stretched getting used to the armor, it was a bit more clunky than he was used and he found the outfit a bit more exposing than he would like with his fluffy belly exposed. “What kinda armor…” Malik sighed and unfurled his wings, thinking for a second before shifting the form into a dark red scarf wrapping it around his neck letting drape like a cloak over his body. “Better.” He started to descend as they got to the meeting point.

---

Aither:

Aither growled, where did this secondary attack come from? He had returned to the command tents only to see Malik’s friend Argalaic take off with the empress to the carrier. “Damn” he thought, neither set of wings would get him that far up in the air… He would have to find a different route up. He looked around once more, “ah” He saw a weakened metal rip off hovering near by, he looked at his sword then at the dragon returning it to the scabbard before running at full speed to the metal “beast”.

Upon arrival he slid under the automation grabbing a hold of the tail using the momentum to launch himself up and onto the top running up to the head summoning bones using his necromancy powers to create a rope of sorts lassoing around the mechs neck as he got closer creating a blade made of pure fire with a hilt and haft of bone jamming it into the side. If his theory is right, and these things were controlled by souls he should be able to communicate with the being. He was no reaper, but he studied their form out of curiosity, he hoped some of it rubbed off on him. He attempted to connect mentally as he tried to get the new “mount” to cooperate and fly towards the carrier, he had some catching up to do.

[Crimetopolis]

Corrected dual post, my bad

[Crimetopolis]

Fuhrer-Kaiser Adolf von Bergmann smiled as the Landsturm trainees stood in graduation formation. From 12-61, these same volunteers, both men and women, had been fully trained as Landsturm. Phaenix would soon have new rear line soldiers.

To HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY
EMPIRE OF PHAENIX

Your excellency,

I am pleased to report we have fully trained the first class of landsturm for your empire's service. They are armed and equipped per our OklaTexas
model. We have a battalion at your command. They are armed with rifles, submachineguns, pistols and short swords. Where may they be sent in his Majesty's service?

Respectfully
Fuhrer-Kaiser Adolf von Bergmann

[SF n F]

Airspace, Over Waters Bordering Roskilde

“So...Malik,” Damnage began, “how should we...”

There was no sign that Malik understood what the erstwhile diplomat was saying.

“This is going nowhere,” Damnage said at length and turned his voice to the dragon on whose back the rather unusual Angel was flying.

“Big guy! Can you talk with your rider for me?”

This got Malik's attention.

Of course! Damnage thought. If he speaks the ice dragon tongue, I can speak with him in that! Duhh! Aren't I the genius?

So the rest of the conversation was held in the tongue of the ice dragon.

“OK, Malik—now that we're close to this thing, how are we going to free Titus?”

As he spoke, Damnage turned himself and Malik invisible so that the metal dragon they were flying behind would not detect them.

The plan was made that Damnage would use his illusion magic to disorient the machine, Malik and his dragon would free the Emperor, and Damnage would catch him if he couldn't get his wings spread and get fully airborne in time. Damnage adjusted the invisibility illusion so that the two of them could see each other, and things were off.

They were making quite a clip, and it was beginning to take its toll on Damnage's stamina, so he hoped that he wouldn't have to carry the Emperor far if at all.

This didn't diminish Damnage's powers as an illusionist, and it wasn't long before the harbinger's eyes had turned completely to black.

[Kalmarnavia]

Skies over Ushund

Ollena had flown back towards the fortress, over the destruction unleashed by the enemy mechanicals. She could see the banner if her House, torn in two, hanging limply from the keep. Chiron roared as they passed overhead, and Ollena could make out the cheers of her surviving troops.

Before she could direct Chiron to land, Ollena was distracted by an ungodly screech. Chiron bellowed in reply as Ollena spotted a blue white, utterly alien dragon tearing after one of the metal creatures with the small furry King her brother called Malik on its back. Within the claws of the metal beast, she spied a figure. The purple cloak snapping in the wind gave away their identity.

Fury sparked in Ollena's eyes. She gave a shout and Chiron tore off in pursuit. Her dragon roared as he rose above the metal beast, looming down like a. Massive turquoise and purple shadow. Ollena looked down, trying to signal Malik to position himself beneath the creature. She had a plan to rescue the Emperor.

[b]Dragon Carrier Alpha[/b]

Alarms started wailing, sirens rising and falling. Argalaic turned to see his men scrambling up to the battlements of the floating Fortress as its great guns turned skywards. He could see a lone metallic creature haphazardly weaving through the air towards the carrier.

"Get the Empress to the bridge! Keep her safe!"

Arge tore up the steps towards the armoured forecastle--which was almost the size of an actual small holdfast. From the gunnery deck, he saw puffs of smoke rising as the ships of the fleet opened fire anticipating a wave of attack. Styrax bellowed in fury from the open deck of her enclosure, spouting flame in a show of strength.

Arge picked up a pair of binoculars, focusing in on the incoming threat. It was dipping and diving and weaving, but not in a pattern that suggested an effort to avoid gunfire. It did not approach with the terrifying grace these creatures had shown to this point. He suddenly spied a flash of brown, fuzzy hair on its back. His eyes grew wide.

"CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE DAMN IT! DO NOT SHOOT IT DOWN, TELL THE FLEET TO HOLD THEIR FIRE!"

The Sea off Carburg Isle

Prince Ajax watched the first ship explode and sink, perplexed as to why the rest were taking no real countermeasures. Starflame rose high above the enemy fleet, shattering glass on the ships with his roar. Ajax saw Valerion swooping in for an attack on another ship, and decided to make his move.

He drove Starflame down right over the open deck of the ship bearing the metal dragons. With another earsplitting roar, Starflame unleashed hell fire from his jaws.

Valerion swooped in from the port side of another of the ships, unleashing flame on its hull along the waterline. Helena saw her uncle unleash his wroth on the enemy, and saw the Zhenshiwanese ships closing in. With a tug of her reins, she bid Valerion to climb. She signalled her uncle to follow suit. They would be best getting clear of any barrage from their allies.

[Tentaklia]

Delkopi

As the Tentaklian admiral and the two Union colonels were walking around Delkopi, Rowena told the others of her home.

"Tentaklia is a refuge for followers of Tentaklos from all over the world. When the Kingdom of Avalanchia shattered many years ago, His Holiness Prophet Sah Rimnir managed to carve out a piece of land just for us. But the Empire has been trying to absorb us ever since."

Rowena stopped to admire a building. "Oh, that is beautiful. Anyway, the nation of Tentaklia and the religion of Tentaklism are heavily intertwined. His Holiness is both the political and religious leader of Tentaklia. We do have democratic elections for our local leaders, but His Holiness is at the top, making sure that the local leaders follow the tenets of Tentaklism."

When asked what these tenets are, Rowena replied "Tentaklos has eight tentacles. Each of them represents a virtue. Compassion, Appreciation, Wisdom, Honesty, Tolerance, Forgiveness, Courage and Diligence. A good Tentaklist strives to embody all eight."


At the Harbor

Lieutenant Charles Grey, one of the Tentaklian soldiers sent to aid the Union was rushing back to the ship. He was a cogitari, a species quite similar to humans except that their eyeballs looked like they were made of solid gold and also they had psychic powers. He boarded the ship and found his commanding officer, Colonel Bas Brouwer.

"Colonel," Charles said. "I have something important to report."

"Yes?" Bas replied. "What is it?"

Charles started telling his story. "When I left the ship earlier, I felt something strange from the lamps lighting the harbor."

"You felt?" the colonel asked. "With your cogitari powers?"

"Yes, exactly," the lieutenant replied. "I wasn't quite sure what I was sensing so I decided I had to investigate closer. And then suddenly I realised, the lamps are powered by the souls of the dead!"

"Are you 100% sure? That's a serious accusation against our allies."

"I am positive. I know what a soul feels like, and what I felt from the lamps were definitely souls."

Colonel Bas Brouwer looked grim. "I will report this to the admiral. She's in command. She will decide how to proceed."

[Alegeharia]

Valen:
Valen got the Alegeharian Naval fleet moving again seeing the distant naval battles, he pointed his fleet at the nearest firefight and headed towards the combat. “Let’s show some Alegeharian strength mates!”

---

Robert:
Robert was looking through the binoculars watching metal beasts fly overhead. He flashed a light over to “docked” naval ship and grabbed a radio. “Start firing on those automatons! Ground as many as you can!” Robert depressed the button and pondered, “those shouldn’t be here... it’s too advanced…” He wondered if someone else was in charge after all.

---

Thorik:
He looked around, the Kalmarnavian ships were interesting machines, it was a little trivial compared to their own fleet, but it was always nice to see more advanced cultures. Thorik could not help but feel ignored having somehow third wheeled into the current situation, he looked up hearing the one called Argelaic shout ceasefire on one of the mechanical beasts. He looked to see and sure enough, it was Aither doing what he did best.

---

Malik:

Malik looked over to the beast, as the got closer he noticed the glow on the ice sigils started to dull. “Hold on a little longer Ichar’ien this beast is much smaller than us in this current form we can easily take him.” He rubbed his dragon between the horns and looked over to Titus, it was an interesting situation and he wondered what to do. He sighed and wheeled around the different tools accessible to him and shrugged, out of everything he had there was nothing he cou- wait. “That’s it!” Malik shouted breaking the silence.

He undid the scarf around his neck tossing it to his back reforming his wings and jumped off dragon flying over to Titus. “Okay tubby think light!” He started tugging at Titus as Ichar’ien blasted the legs with a fine concentrated ice beam freezing the limbs solid, and more importantly, brittle.

---

Aither:

He clung to the fighting metal beast, dodging flak fire from the carrier, he cursed as he was being shot at, he knew the gamble, but looked up as the fire stopped popping around him. Good, it seems the prince saw him finally, he pressed down on… something, he wasn’t sure himself but he managed to get the beast crashing onto the carrier craft jumping down and rolling towards the prince and Thorik.

He summoned a giant skeleton arm digging into the metal to assist in slowing down just stopping a few feet from the crowd. Getting up and dusting off as the arm dissolved into ashes floating away, he waved. “Greetings friends, appreciate not getting shot down.”

[Zhenshiwa]

Somewhere Over the Sea, Nearing Ushund, Flight Lieutenant Pasha Viktrankov AKA 'Cerberus', 97th Naval Air Group...

Cerberus experimentally flicked one of the switches on the side of his helmet as the flight of dragons appeared through the final wisps of a particularly thick cloud bank. The visor, which currently displayed his head, air speed, and remaining flight time was soon joined by a series of red squares on the horizon. Glancing at his flight leader, he could see that she too could see the various targets in the air, and that her helmet was surrounded by a white circle. They had been rising in altitude, as they'd expected to be facing copters, but apparently intelligence had been wrong... The foe was operating metal dragons of a sort.

"You ready for this?" Izanami asked over the comms, Cerberus turned to face her and nodded simply. "Alright, half the flight will engage the hostiles still attacking the fortress. The other half will take on those targets disengaging from the fight. Every one we down is one less they can rearm and send back against us." There was a chorus of affirmatives from the rest of the squadron, as well as the other squadrons from the other carriers. "All allied commands, this is Spectre Flight. Engaging hostile targets within the Ushund AO, be advised elements of the Imperial Surface Fleet will be arriving in the strait shortly, they will be marked by Imperial Ensigns."

With that, Cerberus followed Izanami's lead towards the disengaging targets. The wind whipped against his helmet mask, thundering at his chest while his mount drew its wings inwards for the dive, there was no sensation more freeing than to approach a target at such blinding speed from out of the sun. Glancing briefly at Izanami, he saw her point at one of the targets ahead, apparently with someone in its grasp now that they were growing inexorably closer...

"Be ready to catch that guy when he falls..." The woman ordered, Cerberus obeyed and slowed his descent just enough that he would arrive later than Izanami. The red squares were getting larger, and to his amazement it seemed the boys in Naval Enchantment had thought of everything, as a 'Strike Vector' appeared on the visor glass. If he were to engage the upcoming target, it would have been much easier. As it was, he was more focused on the strangely dressed form clutched in the target's talons. "I wish we could just torch these jerks... Guess we can do so after we knock that guy free, well, I can. Any people we manage to save from these things get taken to the Fortress or our own ships, whichever are closer."

That was the last thing the woman had a chance to say before her mount suddenly flared its wings and extended its talons. Much in the way a falcon would stun its prey, so to did the Escort Dragon slam into the hostile construct. Cerberus meanwhile was diving just beneath his flight leader now, eyes locked on the man whom he would hopefully rescue. He recognized him from somewhere, at least that was what he thought... Perhaps he'd been in the Imperial Newspapers? That was it... This was that 'Emperor' Titus fellow. He supposed he'd need to have his saddle cleaned after this mission, as he doubted an Emperor's stomach could tolerate the G-Forces inherent to Dragon Flight... Oh well. Cerberus watched intently, arms outstretched, trusting the strength of his five point harness to keep him in place.

Lt. Tomanaga Takeo, Detached from the Imperial Armada, Aboard Dragon Carrier Delta...

Takeo looked at the helmet momentarily, recognizing its significance, at least partially. The Empire would soon be deploying similar helmets to all their pilots, though only a few small shipments were currently in the field. He hadn't been fortunate enough to be issued the new devices, though ironically he had perhaps more knowledge on their inner workings than most... His beloved Hotaru was an accomplished Enchantress, many of the experimental units in use bore her signature. Shaking his head, the man eyed the screen and selected one of the approaching red blips. If this system worked as well as the Kalmarnavian's believed it would, it would perhaps be worth mentioning to the Imperial Navy upon his return to the fleet. Odds were this would be a long day... Raising a finger, he struggled for a moment to remember which button to press. Ultimately he settled on the large red one. Assuming no last minute interruptions came it would only be a matter of moments before the hostile air target was sent whirling to oblivion.

Surface Task Group #1, The Coast of Carburg Isle

The whistle of IZN Hononoyama emitted a loud droning cry following the fly over from the Kalmarnavians, slowly gathering speed while her cruiser and destroyer consorts were already closing the range. From this range, however, the battleship was already able to strike. Two twin mounted 16" guns at the bow trained out as the battleship maneuvered itself to come bow on with the coming onslaught, presenting as small a target profile as possible. The angle of the ship would also, hopefully, help to deflect any oncoming shells... Even if she couldn't train all of her main guns at the target.

With a deep sound of ripping canvas, four plumes of brilliant fire and smoke erupted from the guns mounted in her bow, sending a quartet of 2,100 pound High Explosive shells out to sea. At a range of just about 13 Miles, several tremendous towering columns of water erupted from the waves. It was hoped they would find their mark immediately, but the first salvo was more or less a ranging shot. The second salvo that came a minute or so later, following shouted corrections, would hopefully fall true. Four more chest thundering explosions sprang forth, propelling yet another salvo of High Explosive shells at the enemy... Hopefully this time to strike their foe.

The cruisers meanwhile were quickly closing to bring the enemy ships in range, though their AA guns were getting a far better work out. Furious black bursts of smoke sprang to life in the skies, though the gun directors were taking care not to hit their Kalmarnavian allies, only the 'Harbingers'. Thick black-gray smog rose from the smoke stacks of the destroyers as they steamed in line, creating a dense smoke screen to hopefully better conceal the larger ships of the STG. When the enemy had closed the distance they would prepare for a torpedo run, but for now their best use would be to provide to the AA bubble.

Her Imperial Majesty Kashiwa Shikinami, The Kalmarnavian Fleet, Dragon Carrier Alpha...

Shikinami had been given little time to recover from the sudden flight before being whisked off to the Carrier's bridge. It wasn't nearly what she had expected it to look like, which was to say, it didn't look like a Zhenshiwanese Carrier. The sailors aboard the ship, likewise, wore uniforms that were markedly different from those of her own country. She hadn't expected them to be identical, that would've been next to impossible, but she supposed she was expecting that most of what Zhenshiwa considered 'Normal' would translate to the outside world. How many other traditions and customs would be tested? How much of her beloved Empire's culture would change with the tides of war?

Examining the bridge, the Empress did her best to unobtrusively look over the shoulders of the officers and sailors present, if only to gauge what their various functions were. Were helmsmen still helmsmen, did they also serve as navigators, as they did in the Imperial Navy? The Kalmarnavians were a fascinating people, one she desired to study far more closely. Their concept of honor and tradition was different from that of the Zhenshiwanese, but not wholly incompatible... If anything, the Empress believed the two complimented one another rather nicely. When the war was over, perhaps she could secure some sort of permanent alliance between the two peoples. The woman quietly shook her head, she was becoming to enamored with what was and what would be, when in the moment there seemed to be a naval battle to fight.

IZN Obsidian Dragon, DCV-4, Combat Control Center...

"The Empress has been safely escorted to the Kalmarnavian Fleet, Admiral!" One of the sailors working communications announced, and as one it seemed the entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief. Sato appeared outwardly the same, calm and stoic, but his posture had become a bit less rigid than it had before. Her Imperial Majesty was the heart and soul of the Empire, the Mother of Destiny, who would care for their people as she would her own flesh and blood... Knowing that the Empress was out of harms way, at least for the moment, would undoubtedly greatly improve feelings aboard the ship. For now, the focus remained on the approaching hostiles, which the Admiral suspected would enter AA range shortly.

"I have been contemplating how best to cooperate, Lord Knarlson..." Sato admitted quietly, looking at the deck plating at his feet. "The enemy fleet disposition remains more or less a mystery, I would wager there are elements of this conflict that have yet to make their presence known. Entire nations with entire naval fleets at their disposal. As the Empress expects the Imperial Navy to take charge of the war at sea, perhaps it would be wise to utilize our reconnaissance dragons and your fleet tenders or other auxiliaries to set up a perimeter... A sort of 'Early Warning' picket line?"

[Tentaklia]

The Prophet's office in Temple, Tentaklia
The Prophet was looking through some important papers when two members of the Council of High Priests entered. Cornelius Paine, High Priest of Courage, was in charge of Tentaklia's military; and Florence Flowers, High Priestess of Tolerance, handled foreign affairs.

"Your Holiness," Florence said. "We have urgent business to discuss."
"Yes, Florence?" the Prophet replied. "What is it?"
Cornelius answered the question. "Did you send five battleships with full crews as well as 5000 infantrymen to the Rhodar-Gozari Union? I thought I was supposed to be in charge of the military?"
"I apologize," the Prophet said. "I couldn't get ahold of you and I though this opportunity shouldn't be wasted. We have an ally against Phoenixiah!"
Cornelius said "I guess that makes..."
"Hold on. What exactly are you talking about?" Florence interrupted.
"I was informed that the Union were fighting against Phoenixiah, so I took the opportunity to form an official alliance."
Florence looked annoyed now. "That would be all well and good, if the Union was actually at war with Phoenixiah."
"What do you mean?" the Prophet asked.
"The Rhodar-Gozari Union is at war with the Empire of Phaenix! Not Phoenixiah!"
"That can't be right," the Prophet said. He then pressed a button on his intercom and said "Sarah, could you get Sydney Lexington to my office please?"
"Right away, boss," the catgirl on the other end replied.

A short while later, Sydney entered.

"Now, Sydney," the Prophet began. "When you told me..." He was interrupted by an explosion.

The news shook the nation. The Prophet and one fourth of the Council of High Priests were dead.