The Dawn Celebration, five days of drunken debauchery in defiance of Xotsis Rhex; marked the defense of Catalan against the second legion of the Imperial Hand. The Great Bear General's legion, 20,000 strong was defeated and the Threshold Triad of Sitia was established through the efforts of Catalan and Mourne's FALLEN, the Orc nation of Green Coin, and the Olorean survivors of the Blight. The holiday had finally drawn to an end and I found myself staring at paperwork through the haze of dehydration and the spins.

The knocking on my door was symbolic of it's outcome, like it was my brain that was being knocked on by the yet unidentified fist.. Two fingers applied themselves to the bridge of my nose as my narrowed gaze diverted to the door, slight bite in my words as they somehow managed to escape from the bowels of my diaphragm; "What?"

As the door slowly peeled away from it's frame, the coiling of ebon digits which swept around it's edge alerted me to the likelihood that it was my half-drow counterpart, Jaerska. She said nothing and when she entered her frame was followed by another. The female that followed the enigmatic drowess wore the fatigues of the Peregrines. Her upper body was wrapped in black cotton, a single row of buttons stretched down the front, the lapels were tucked into a black pair of pants which were mottled strategically with blots of gray and white. Her black boots were polished to a similar luster of that of my father's.. and she wore the shield of Dusk upon her right shoulder.

With a nod, I motioned for her to take the seat before. Had I noticed the look on Jaerska's face, I may have known what was coming. My eyes struggled to remain open, my voice somehow constant and unwavering in it's request, "Chance Stone Ikin, to whom do I owe the honor?"

The girl was young, thin, roughly about 5'4". Brown hair just barely broke free from her ebon beret and the bars on her breast pocket signaled two things to me.. the first that she was a sergeant, and the second was based on the fact that there were no frays on the upper bar.. which meant that she either just received the promotion or she was a desk jockey. Her angel thin lips parted to end my hazy observation, "Lord Ikin.. I am Sergeant Cheyenne Diem of the Fighting Falcons, First Infantry of the Peregrine Order and am acting under the command of Watari; The War Jesus. Are you familiar with the Imperial Invasion of Etherei?"

I was already starting to question where this was going, but continued on with her line of questioning; "Familiar is an understatement.." I responded.



Etherei Bleeds
Etherei, Capital of Etherei; Dusk Empire (East)

Even with the help of Elyssa's Harbinger companions: Wolf, Kay, and Elyssa; the meager militia of Etherei was aptly crushed by the seas of Imperials. The 40,000 strong slowly began to flood into the once great city.

A voice sprang from the chaos, amidst the streets filling instantly with the armor and flags of Rhex, "Ring the bell!"

The four teens lingered in the clock tower, ground zero - the middle of Etherei's festering wound. Chance's shout rang out again, "Put down your bow and ring the damn bell, Turk!"

The Turkish raised orphan of Mourne, one Derryk Casablancas Satier, reversed his grasp on his scimitar and began to beat the obnoxiously large iron bell until the pendulum-like ball inside began to pound against it's sides. To those of the remaining militia, the resonance of the bell was the signal of dire times.. Etherei had bled out. Below the bell, Chance Ikin did his best to block the steps to the tower by pressing his weight against a turned oak desk. The bells chime made the wood beneath his feet reverberate, but he was already deafened by the fog of war. Muscles burned deep in his legs as he fought the weight of the insurgency, the Imperials were trying to take the tower with numbers. Black scuffs marred the floor of the stair's upper landing as the teen's boots were forced along the floor by the weight opposing. The soles were literally wearing by the second.

"Jae are you ready?!" He shouted.

Above, on the roof of the clock tower; Jaerska and "Jalessa" Ron Haufin continued their duo barrage into the flooding streets. Each time they leaned over the edge and let an arrow fly, two less Imperials to deal with later. It was their mantra. The drowess spat the words as she turned her bow towards the heavy rope which held the bell in place, "Go Chance.. GO!"

The eldest Ikin son glanced up from his Oaken turtle shell to see a spearhead dancing over the top of the desk's edge. He reached up and took hold of it about a foot in from the point. The other palm was forced to the wood which splintered in the contrary pressures applied by either of those lethal hands. As he rose the foot long spear remained in his clutch and was slammed between the first set of eyes he could see staring back across the desk at him. The desk snapped beneath the force of so many Imperial soldiers and he found his way to the landing's railing by the means of kicking off an attacker's chest.

Balanced on the middles of worn boot soles, he produced those kunai from behind his back, reversed in either hand. "Now!" He screamed as he flipped back off the railing to the dismay of his Imperial assailants. With fluid grace the angel of death rolled through the air and straightened as his form knifed downward in between two sets of row homes, about 8 feet apart. Each kunai's tip bit at the opposing facades of concrete and lessened his fall, fighting against gravity in a rain of dueling sparks as the teen descended to his feet.

The Imperial accumulation on the stairs didn't even have time to look up. With a thumb held to the feather, Jaerska released the arrow, the gesture tugging the feather just enough to ensure the tip would spin. It struck the rope and grazed across, fraying the rope and before the Imperial accumulation could even look up at their imminent doom; that large iron bell snapped free from the rope and burst through the stairs. It left a small crater on the ground below along with the shattered dreams of a healthy handful of soldiers.

Across from Chance, three ropes danced down the back of the clock tower wall and the Advance Recon Strike Element descended to the ground in a series of leaps. The four teens spilled into the alley and disappeared from sight.




"That's very clever, Lord Ikin." The Sergeant responded.

"Thank you.." I replied, my statement slightly uneasy; "But call me Chance.. I'm 19.. I haven't lived long enough to be so special as to be called the Lord of anything.. none the less, Ikin.. "

She nodded with hands folded in her lap properly. She was the picture of manicured soldier; upright, well mannered, and respectful based upon her position. This was peculiar in a sense, considering that I was not formally her superior, yet she gave me the respect of one. Her nod was subtle, the words leapt quietly from her tongue; "Very well, Chance.. please continue.."

Quoth the words from my very lips, "That's when things got out of hand.. "




Vice General Briggs had finally graced Etherei with his presence. The Imperial Commander's disposition was bitter like rotten lemons, and thrust further into the bowels of hatred by the death of his superior officer. When the command company had found Etherei, they were halted by the assembly of it's cattle.. seemingly left out in the desert to slow their advance. It appeared as if it were for the means of retreat. The War Jesus lead them out through the sea of livestock and aptly destroyed their 1000 strong with the booby-trapped herd. A single flaming arrow was all it took to light a single powder keg and cause the chain reaction that left the command company a mess of burns, limbs, and cow parts.

This left the bitter general to the devices of this war, and destroy the rebels he would. From the back of a black stead his voice commanded, "Burn this place to the ground.. keep the surrounding buildings on the city limits intact, so we may use them for shelter when the Peregrines attempt to counter.."

Fires erupted in the streets, bonfires ablaze with the anger and intent of the Emperor himself. Soldiers appeared in droves and lit rags on the end of wood and dashed through the city lighting everything in sight.

The Strike Element was now stuck within the death trap. There was no place to hide and escape seemed hopeless. As the buildings drown to embers, their resources were stolen from them. There was no place to hide and every place to run was increasingly occupied with the Imperial presence.

The ever enigmatic Jaerska's back hit the wall of a building, the corner, her hand waving on to her comrades. From around the corner of an adjacent building Ron's feet burst across the street and past her. Derryk ran for all of his life and came in a close second. Chance lingered, dealing with pursuers and seconds past before he darted across the clearing. That whistling was familiar to the drow and her eyes got wide even before the arrow plunged into Chance's abdomen and brought him to his knees in the street.

"Keep going.. " She shouted as she tossed her bow in the direction of Ron.

Her gloved fingers danced with mirth, those milk chocolate fingertips wiggling freely from the cut holes as they reached downward. As scissor curved daggers were yanked from leather, the slight sound produced excited the warrior in her. She counted off seconds in her head even as Chance writhed in agony on his knees.

On the count of five she slipped from safety and charged out into the street. Her lavender gaze drew in the sight of three charging, and the first was engaged instantly. Those curved blades caught his spear and forced it away from it's proposal to the chest of the Ikin rogue. She continued the momentum on one foot, the other curving backwards with near ballet grace to cradle her Achilles on the back of his neck.

The pause was brief through the intensity of battle, her ankle remained on his neck for what seemed like the drag of hours in solitude. Screams bellowed from the lips of her handler as he snapped the arrow in half and attempted to rise on his feet, and then the whole world sped up. Her body twisted violently in opposition and the soldier's face was dragged crashing into the street on the edge of her boot's heel.

As she faced the other two those eyes went wide like the thrust of a sword towards her, which she met with the curved blade of her right hand and forced over her head. The left was slashed across the inside of his thigh, the armor weak leather to support movement. It was also the housing of the femoral artery, and his scream littered the cries of battle as he dropped to the ground to bleed out slowly.. tortured with the thoughts and pain of a slow death.

The final encroached and his spear was thrust towards her belly. Instantly the drowess dropped those kukri and snatched for the wooden shaft. The slightest of sidesteps lead her free from the path of it's bladed end and those lithe fingers curled over the wood. With a yank, the soldier was pulled right into her. As they collided, her knees met his ribs. Her legs curled around his back, her arms around the back of his neck. Their forms tightly locked - crashing into the street with enough weight to knock over a horse. Her limbs restricted tightly in their placements and using the remainder of her strength she yanked on his head until the raw popping sound alerted her of the severing of his spinal column. The soldier went limp in her grasp.

Jaerska crawled from beneath the literal mass of dead weight and snatched his spear with great contempt. As the first attacker attempted to rise, the spear was thrust through his back to pin him to the loose gravel below.