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

The Tyrians trudged through the dystopic undercity of Kizameth. The dark magic storm had started to pick up - by this point it had started raining, the dark clouds having hovered in place over the great flying city. White Glint and his entourage of the Silver Lance scouted on ahead while the rest of the Tyrians made their way through the grim and grime of the lower city. While before, under the rule of a peaceful emperor and empress, the undercity was but a lower-to-middle class district, which was well kept and cleaned. But once it had fallen under Darkveil regime it become corrupted, a buzzing hive of hedonism and other unsavory acts.

However, this was not the end of additions. For a place so high-tech, and for a society with access to sophisticated machinery which could easily solve such heinous tasks for them, the Darkveils opted to use slave quarries for the people who were not affected by the control sigil at the top of the Obelisk. They were put to work in said quarries until they literally died from working too much, and thus had no further use for their corpses.

Sharilyn took the lead before turning the group to the corner. What laid before them was a long street covered by an overpass that was apart of the much more glitz and glamor overcity. However, at the very end of that street was a peculiar pit. What looked like a giant, mechanical pit, appearing with all sorts of shades of dark grey and mottled brown from the dirt. The space was absolutely enormous, encompassing dozens of football fields in size.

Breathing in amazement, Lyn mused. "God damn..."

"Slaves? The technodragons use slaves?" Selena stepped forward, gazing down at the scene.

"Only a tyrant would use such methods." Shir'ith stepped forward, shaking her head behind the helmet of her Sepentrion armor. She was clearly displeased at the development of the scene.

"Our mutual friend was very...straightforward with the objectives. Internment Center and Munitions Factory." Silver Blast remarked on the situation with the air that they should move on, rather than worry about the quarry.

Markus turned his head towards Silver Blast and retorted, "So, do we instead leave those people to be worked to death, then?"

Black Ice stepped forward. A cynical and jaded Liberavi, Ice was appropriately, cold and distant from others. "You heard him. And you will comply - we don't need to worry about a pack of worthless slaves."

Finally, White spoke. "Enough."

"Perhaps you should be a little more grateful for what my ancestor and my dad worked for? Freedom for ourselves, and for others?"

The group fell silent. Black Ice grunted, crossing his arms in disapproval. Silver Blast, Stone Grey and Crystal Echoes, the only female of the group, fell in line. Sharilyn stepped forth and looked over the quarry. As said, it was an increasingly large space with several guard outposts, barracks and even what looked like a vehicle depot nearby. The slaves' living quarters, though 'living' was a very loose word for how the Darkveils treated them, were on the far side of quarry, built into the walls.

The intense, terrifying rattling of Snow's autocannon pierced through the cacophony of gunfire and explosions going on in the Kizameth city center, just where the AVALANCHE tank had come to a rather spectacular crash. Sasha was on the roof engaged in hand-to-hand with a Tralonian Warmonger, while Snow held off Warrior-Servicemen with the aid of Illusionista and Mesira. Armory and Varulfr took to the roofs themselves to pick off the Rangers, and any Volants who tried their luck at making a bombing run on this crew of misfits.

Armory vaulted over a nearby futuristic-looking air vent and came to a vantage point, gazing over the chaos ensuing below. Several Warrior-Servicemen covered a nearby Ranger, who had his obsidian black hood swooped over his head. He gave a military-esque hand gesture, telling Varulfr to move up.

"Alrigh'," Varulfr drawled with his heavy Irish accent.

The anthropomorphic wolf did so, leaping on to the lower building. One of the Servicemen, startled by the noise, grunted and turned around, only to be met with a razor-sharp flurry of wolven claws tearing his face and light armour to shreds. The other servicemen realized what was going on in nanoseconds, unsheathing their crackling power swords which they pulled from their utility belts, which utilized dimensional subspace pockets to store items.

While they engaged Varulfr, the Ranger nearby discovered their predicament. Varulfr handled all of them at once while Armory scope a few of them, before he saw the Ranger take a run for it. An adjacent skyscraper turned out to be a perfect escape root for him.

"Let's hope you can run better than you can aim!" The Ranger wasn't going to give up. He leaped towards the building and activated his boot magnetizers, gluing him to the building. In a rush, he discarded his sniper rifle, which returned to his subspace, and pulled out a pair of submachine guns.

In the direction behind said Ranger, Armory activated his jetboots and followed suite. His own utility belt - based off the design Snowtalon himself gave to him - spawned another one of his assault rifles. The two exchanged quadruple plumes of fire from their respective weapons.

"Come back here, you son of a bitch." Renik's gaze narrowed, as did the Ranger's in response, despite not seeing the former's face.

The Ranger landed on a nearby ceiling of another residence and turned around, slipping his SMGs back into his subspace and unfurling his sniper rifle again. The Tralonian Ranger would have only one shot at this. He cocked his rifle as Armory came blasting around the corner. The shadow dragon calmly took aim and fired the high-caliber rifle.

And missed. The Tralonian cursed, knowing his missed his mark.

Mike gave a grin of glee as he rose in altitude for a moment, only to come suddenly rocket downwards and chest kick, with both feet, the Tralonian into a nearby wall. The snapping of many ribs and a painful squeal followed. "Turns out my aim's just sharp enough." He rose his second assault rifle and casually pulled the trigger, nailing the Ranger in the head, ending his suffering.

Varulfr rendezvous with Michael a moment later, landing next to him. "Thin' they ca' 'andle this fight?"

Armory nodded. "Snow looks like he's having fun." He gazed down to the city below.

Meanwhile in the carnage below, Snowtalon swung his autocannon like a bat in the vague direction of the Exarch, an Aquatic Tralonian, who expertly dodged the heavy yet fast swing and assailed Snowtalon's shields with pulse fire. The pulse bolts inflicted such heavy damage that Snow's shields they cracked with the second shot, and Snow's armour took several hits. The outer kendrium plating took most of the damage, but there were several noticeable marks. In the distant sky, Snow looked upwards and saw a small black dot in the sky, rocketing towards the ground at high speeds. Snow just looked directly at the Exarch's face, grinning wide behind his helmet, which soon became unpolarized and his face visible.

"The sky's falling," He said. The Exarch was about to fire another shot, before he was crushed to dust in and instant, his gun and sword falling to the ground as if its owner just disappeared. The drop pod door spat open, and a very small figure in power armour slipped out.

"Did I miss anythin', Snowy?" She spoke with a heavy Southern drawl. She was Rebecca Harriet, an anthropomorphic bunny and notable power armoured hero. Harriet was also Snowtalon's current lover, though unknown to everyone else. The dragon gave a toothy smile. "You landed on someone." He pointed towards the now-crushed Exarch, his helmet polarizing again. Rebecca stepped out of the pod, her armcannon folding over her hand.

Nearby, one of the Tralonian Warmongers fell from the building behind Snow, landing with a thunderous quake. Gauntlet soon followed, nodding at the two. Illusionista, with several Servicemen, a Warmonger of her own and a Ranger all having fallen prey to her psychic sleep, fell where they once stood. She regrouped with the others, as Varulfr and Armory did when they came down.

"Alright. Since we had a botched landing, we're walking to the Internment Center."

Illusionista perked her head upwards. "What about the Tyrian team?"

Snow's holopad came in front of his flashed in front of his face, opening a direct line to Major Campbell. "Major, what news? Tyrian team was supposed to meet us."

Drake responded with haste. "Turns out they've discovered a slave quarry, sir. Do you want to move them elsewhere, or--?" He asks, which Snow intervenes. A sudden, serious gaze emerged in his eyes.

"No," He said, alarmingly fast, "Let them do what they must. Remember, we're here to save people."

"O-of course, sir. I will keep them updated." And the holopad disappeared.

"Let's move."