Difference between revisions of "Snowtalon: Sacred World, Part V"

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Stone Grey thrust his fist through a large data server and pulled out a large information chip and handed it to Silver Blast, who walked into the room adjacent the server room. The Tyrian team were inside the Darkveil Slave Quarry, the area they were present strangely deserted. Black Ice appeared and joined up with the rest of the Silver Lance, with Crystal Echoes at his side, in the main room. All of the team was scavenging about for anything they could find that could reveal anything. Selena and Lydia appeared from nearby with a pair of strange gem-looking objects, and White handed what looked like a futuristic text log to Sharilyn.

Slicer looked over to White Glint and up-nodded at him, before speaking. "Snow's people sure as hell leave some weird things behind..." She stated, bluntly.

White hung his head upwards in curiosity. "Like what?"

She continued. "Some of the stuff here has records of people with the surname Snowtalon being sentenced to work in the Slave Quarry, estimated date in our time 1983..."

White stared blankly for a moment.

Slicer threw her arms up. "Man, for someone actually kinda smart, sometimes you're a little clueless! That's when our Snowy showed up on Earth."

"...oh."

The Ben'haian rolled her eyes and got to three steps before an explosion sounded. And she heard what sounded like a body smacking against the wall that was in front of her...

"Quick. Everyone out, let's see what's going on." Sharilyn stated, coming through, the Silver Lance, Markus and the Brand daughters following suite, along with Slicer and White. When through the door they found themselves on a nearby cliff, overlooking a previously unseen part of the quarry that stretched across at least five percent of the entire city.

It was absolutely huge and dragons of all shapes, sizes and colours had been scattered, while Darkveil Associates hauled their menacing weapons, firing them into the air. The Servicemen, Rangers, Warmongers and Slavers were fighting these rebellious slaves, some with only tattered clothing to preserve their dignity, and others with assembled and salvaged armour and weapons.

Most interestingly out of all the figures was one Earth Tralonian standing at their head, at ten feet and six inches. With fists the size of dustbin lids and a pair of crackling energy whips emerging from his black, armoured bracers, the armour-clad Slavemaster cracked said whips and coiled them around an unfortunate flame dragon's throat, who was soon executed with a well-placed autorifle shot to the head. Silver Blast glanced to one of the dead Slavers, who was the source of the disturbance, his deceased face contorted in a scream of pain. Said face was soon assaulted by a wave of rain, as the dark grey clouds circling overhead began raining. The Tyrians leaped from their post and on to the ground, drawing their weapons and joining in the fight.

The Brand sisters were the first to strike. Lydia, wielding her eight-foot chainsaw sword went for a sweeping strike against one hapless Serviceman, who was completely bisected by the swing and the barely contained fury of the brimming chain's teeth. His squad soon paid attention to her and Selena, the two fighting side by side with powerful soul blasts, chainblade swings and terrified yelps from the assailed Servicemen squad.

The Silver Lance was next. With their unified fighting style they worked in near-perfect synchronization; Crystal Echoes first curled her hand into a fist as a powerful current of air assailed a mixed Ranger and Serviceman squad, weakening their armour. Black Ice came forth and opened the flat of his hand, chilling their armour with a blistering torrent of freezing air. Stone Grey slammed his fists into the ground as stalagmites erupted from beneath the soil, rocketing the group into the air and outright impaling a handful of them. And finally, Silver Blast unloaded his plethora of weapons, missiles, bullets and even energy-blade slashes assaulting them.

Markus and Sharilyn fought together as one, with their respective blades, soul blasts and assault rifle fire. The Slavers around them attempting to get closer with their sadistic weapons, which fired inch-long spiked rods at their foes, failed miserably as they were assailed by plumes of bullets, a heavy blade meant for two hands swung with one, being slammed in the face with powerful soul energy and then shanked through the gut with her blade.

At the close, Slicer and White's love for each other extended even to how they fought. Fighting in perfect unison, Slicer assailed a pair of Warmongers with her shoulder-mounted cannons as she charged forth, White's minigun blasting plumes of gunfire from their barrels at the same targets. When they grew close enough, Slicer crossed her claws together and White immediately fired a long, thick beam of plasma at them, and it reflected perfectly off the sharp blades and right through the Warmaster pair, reducing them to naught more than a withered husk.

The twelve-foot Slavemaster stepped forward, towering over the entire team and roaring at them. "Little ones, little Tyrians! Pigs for the slaughter, you are!" He cracked his whips, chuckling menacingly from behind the half-face helmet that exposed only his mouth. The entire team exchanged glances and then at the Earth Tral Slavemaster, whose overbearing smugness would soon cost him his life. All of them charged forward at once as the Slavemaster's guards also came in, but however, over half of them a moment later had what looked like giant rods tipped with blue spikes on the end, like futuristic arrows, jutting out of their heads.

From across the quarry came a lone figure in a large black cloak, dark blue armour underneath. It was hard to tell from this distance, but the figure possessed distinctly feminine curves and a large stature. She sprinted forward, firing arrow after arrow after arrow in an insanely quick fashion, arrows spawning before her very eyes. She wore a characteristic pair of utility bracers, not unlike that which other Tralonians wore, commonly as a belt, but only on her forearms. They swirled as the arrows materialised, and she continued her assault.

The Slavemaster's face contorted into one of rage as he saw here and prepared his gigantic energy whips, sweeping across the ground and intending to swipe the Tyrians. Markus, White and Slicer managed to dodge in time, followed by the Lancemen sans Black Ice, who toppled over and fell flat on his rear, and the Brand sisters made a strike for him. Selena swirled green energy in her hands and released them in bursts, and Lydia went for an overhead strike with her chainblade, causing the chattering, vicious teeth to fall upon the Slavemaster's armour. With the mysterious figure's arrow fire slamming into his armour from one direction and being assailed by Tyrians from all directions, the Slavemaster's whips went for Lydia. They coiled around her midsection and he swung her up into the air, her chainsword falling from her grasp.

He brought the whip slamming down on the ground, causing Lydia to collapse, clutching her ribcage. Markus glanced backwards before turning to the Slavemaster, his green eyes suddenly brimming with a tranquil fury. Bringing his sword to bear, everybody attacked at once - the figure, the Lancemen with their respective munitions, ice, the very soil beneath their feet, and air pressure, Selena with her soul blasts, White with his powerful plasma barrages, Slicer now with her wrist-mounted flamethrowers, and finally Lyn slashing at the giant's ankles with her sword and assault rifle.

The Slavemaster toppled, landing on the ground, an arrow slicing right through his cheek, and met his doom at the coldy furious Forzcan who embedded his blade in the Earth Tralonian's neck. However, Markus landed on the ground first and green swirls of energy, like his daughter's, appeared in his hands. In an outward motion, he spread his arms, tearing the Earth Tralonian's very arms and legs from their sockets, indigo blood bursting everywhere like a gory fountain.

"We are many, and your overconfidence is your doom. We are your end."

With a final, terrified scream, what was left of the Slavemaster's body was turned upside down and shoved into the ground violently, turning his head to paste and expunging the sword from its entry point, effortlessly caught by its owner. Markus lifted his hand and wiped his mouth, caked in purple blood. He immediately holstered his sword and made for Lydia, the other Tyrians recovering from the recent blood explosion that Markus had caused.

The Brand sister clutched her rib and stood up, far from downed. "I-I've broken a few, but I can go on..."

Markus cocked his head upward. "We do not believe you are in a fit condition. Lydia..."

"Don't stop me. If you didn't want me here, you wouldn't have brought me along. Uncle Skarius' people want freedom, and you heard Birdbrain earlier." White chirped in the background, his attention towards Lydia.

"What I want to know is, who the fuck is she?" Sharilyn turned her attention to the figure, who holstered her bow in her dimensional storage and reached a pair of gloved, clawed hands to her hood. She slipped it back, revealing vibrant amber eyes, pure white scales, the blue scales running down her head, and the black horns that stuck out from her head.

"My name is Skaria Snowtalon, and I extend my thanks on the behalf of the Kizamethan Partisans for your assistance." The dragoness bowed her head, and when she glanced back up, she found little more than slack jaws.

Mesira waved a hand and caused the large, ominous doors leading into the Interment Center to swing open, creaking under the strain as she casually strolled in, everyone else's armaments blazing. Snowtalon's autocannon was firing great fountains of bullets, Armory's dual assault rifles assailed the enemy, Power Bunny's arm cannon thundered and smashed into the armours of the Darkveil Associates. Illusionista's barrages of psychic energy were more than a match for her draconic adversaries. Both Gauntlet and Varulfr strolled in beside the Rodi as the doors slammed shut, Mesira turned around and magically sealing them with a giant rune, which fused the doors together.

"Looks like we'll have to find another way out, eh?" Skarius tossed away an ammunition box for his autocannon and another appeared in his hand thanks to his dimensional subspace, attaching a fresh box into the weapon.

Armory lowered his rifles and swapped out his magazines for fresh ones in quick succession. "So what's our next move?"

"We head for the cellblock, then The Redeemer."

"The...Redeemer?" Gauntlet inquired, one of his brown brows arching.

"A machine that randomizes transportation between realms. Used for Tralonians who have committed terrible crimes - they get thrown in, and nobody knows where they end up. It just happened to be prophecized that I landed on Earth." The snow dragonoid grinned his signature, toothy smile.

"That, or you're just one lucky scalebag." Illusionista smirked, prompting a glance from Snow who shook his head in response.

Even Mesira smiled behind her helmet, and she walked into the main lobby with everyone following behind. For the kind of prison that they were about to see, the lobby was in substantially pristine condition. It was remarkably sterile, given the state the rest of the place had fallen into. Snow extended a hand and everybody fanned out into the room, with Armory deciding to go over the main desk, with Snow following in behind, thumping loudly.

"I'll see what I can find here. Renik, you go with Mesira and Varulfr into the left incarceration wing, and Sasha, Rebecca and Lelianna will head for the right wing. Break a leg, chaps."