Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

"OUR JOURNEY THROUGH THE HIGH SANDS, from the Great Canyon of Dementa's camp has lasted a fortnight. While the adventures we've encountered have been both daring and surreal, I do not wish to keep us beneath this scorch for longer than is needed. In an hour now, we'll have reached the border of Grone's territory. And our Rebellion shall begin!"

Rafel said this as the full march of his company stood on a small hill. This was the last closest dune to the obelisk that rounded off Zaftig's own hold.

From this elevation, the group could all see the stark tents marking Grone's haven, spread in the sand in the formation of a military cantonment. It was quite the site; strides of hundreds of Deathlies clothed in unruly [desert gear], striding about huge canvas stalls, milling in corners together. Even from here, Rafel could see those among who were part machine.

Those with brass arms, [shield copper] legs, nickel orbs shining bright in eye sockets. Mechas, they were called. In Titans Landing, these version of grotesque half-androids were absent. Not for any reason except that the demons—the mightiest population of species in the Capital since Lilith took the Court hated them.

It was like, why use shrapnel to fake limbs when you could just beg a Hellion to place a [death curse] on you? Make you a demon, you know?

Truthfully, no one really liked Mecha people. The parts of them that were machine and [magic ore] made them liable to sudden autistic outbursts. In a Continent with an empire like Eldoria, no species gave room for weakness. Look what happened to the Faerie—and they were the kids of the gods.

"Those are Mechas!" Ravenna pointed her slender arm.

"Yep." Rafel responded.

"I have never come close to one. I hear they are a strange lot."

"Respectfully," said Khalifa, adjusting her veils and joining the conversation, "Mechas are still human. They might be more human than some that parade in full flesh armor. The machine parts of them only brings them closer to their other side." She told Ravenna solely. "Take another look. These were once people. Those ruby eyes and iron arms were lost in undercity fighting pits. Those brass arms and steel thighs lost when the Titans rose from the depths of the Cold Sea and fucking squashed them like bugs.

You are Queen... runaway or not. Sooner or later, when we win this war, you'll have to make a choice. Will you integrate the Mechas into your new society, or disband them and exile them to the hottest breaches of the fucking Empire for having a thunk when they walk? Eh? Which shall it be?"

Ravenna fell silent. The whole company stared. It was the first time Khalifa had attacked her openly. The scarred sentinel was always very loyal. Of all their escort team, she was the most protective. She took obedience to the chain of command to another level. She'd never once questioned duty, or so much as blinked at a direct order. But now, 'why is she revolting?' Rafel wondered.

"Scarred One," Rafel addressed her by his moniker for her; he could spare a few minutes on the hill to question her outburst: "What is it? Why are all of a sudden defensive? You've never acted this way before. This is... different. You are being different."

"Yeah. Did I say something wrong?" Ravenna did the sorry look with her jaded iris. "Bigoted?"

Khalifa's brows creased into her temple. She sat straighter in her saddle. A rouge wind from the east brownlands blew across her face. Her Hijab came off behind; she didn't bother with it. Her pink scar cut across her ear and left eye. She had such a catchy face. Her shoulders rolled uncomfortably.

"I'm not being defensive! I just. . .I-I. Let's just go, please." She raked her brown eyes to Rafel. "You said we've got one hour to the border, is it? Why waste any second." She pushed her mutant ox into a trot, leaving the others to lead the front march.

Rafel sighed and shouted from his litter. "This ain't over, Hijabi!"

[Ding!] Peitho pushed into his head.

[Lord host, shall I intercept the thoughts of this girl to discern what it is that she hides from you?]

"No, Peitho. Do not read her mind." Rafel put flatly.

He pushed his hand forward. "We move!" The front march soon joined Khalifa where she was, cantering down the steep sands of the small hill. It was mere minutes when they reached the granite obelisk and broke through the border. They were now officially in Grone's territory. Very surprisingly, they encountered no marauding patrols, like at Caer Mullhen. Neither fierce raiders, like at the Canyon of the Junker queen.

"This is weird. Where are all the [furoisas] Grone is rumored to breed like cattle?" This came from the front, from Damnameneus. The sorcerer looked genuinely quizzed. A look Rafel never thought he'd see on the face of a [High Arts] Magus. Linguist. And Historian.

"They must be out pillaging or something," the girl with piercings from earlier remarked. "I hear Grone sends his sons out to do the thieving and genocide. He sits at home and fucks the daughters."

"Whoa!" Damnameneus coughed. Ravenna hid her smile. One shouldn't laugh at incest.

"No." Khalifa finally spoke again.

They were riding slowly, the whole company knit in a three line advance. It was a short kilometer to the defense trenches of the camp. Per Rafel's order, everyone kept the file. He did not want a repeat of Caer Mullhen. Grone's infantryman styled base looked like it had more than just cannon guns. It looked like he was more a weapons dealer than a gold robber.

"No what?" Cora asked. "He doesn't fuck his daughters. Wait! His sons?"

"WHAT! NO. Gods! That's not what I mean." Khalifa shot a sideways look. "I mean no: his camp is not defenseless. Yes. It may appear so from the outside, but look here..." Khalifa pressed the [charge rune] at her wrist and the [Map Digitum] glowed to life in front of them. As they rode on, she explained: "see those dots marking where we are now—that is a mine field."

"You mean there are dead explosives under us right now?" Cora looked perplexed. "This mother fucker."

"Not explosives. More like a volcano. Grone has lined the several kilometers up to the base trenches with [lightning cores], [A-Tech dynamites], and Bull bombs. No to mention all the Epic-grade arms I'm sure he has stored up in that place."

Rafel raised his eyes again to the cantonment. All in the company did.

"He could blast us all on a whim." Khalifa didn't even try for contrite. "You don't think there's a reason why the other Skullriders don't fuck with him. You'll see no vulture gangs or scavengers in his territory. For a man like Grone, he has built his name on fear of both the known and unknown. He crucifies a NUR every moon to the [Spike Wheel] and oils them before roasting... just because he can. Oh! And there's this. . ."

Khalifa grabbed her flare gun off her holding belt and fired off a shot into the direction of the camp. The red trail ran smoothly up, until it was a metre from the peg fence, and then it hit some invisible barrier. And went poof!

Ash!n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Within seconds.

"A [Hex Gate]." Khalifa offered, for those who still hadn't guessed it.

"A LEGENDARY SHIELD." Rafel muttered.

"Yep." Khalifa popped her lips as she pocketed her flare gun again.

"Well, fuck." Cora sighed. "How do we get in then?"

The [Hex Gate]: a dome-shaped electric web went down just as they reached it. Rafel shared a look with Cora. That answered her question.

They all trooped right in the center of the 9-foot deep trenches, entering the base through the peg beams. A NUR with one blue machine eyeball whizzed past on a steam bike. His entire left arm was steel too. A Mecha. He nearly crashed into Khalifa's ox. "Fuck." She pulled on its reins at the last moment, before immediately swooping her head to yell at the biker. "Oi! Wanker! Look where you're going. Fuckin' NUR."

As they pulled deeper into the camp, no one was stopping them. The base was infact a terror of people who didn't give a fuck about anything.

Not about the couple of teenagers doing mushrooms in some grayish field. The huffing gays breathing hard in the back of a tent's flap. Not about the shadow of a preteen being facefucked in the grime of a shallow pond. And certainly not about the new visitors in the base, riding on camels. Nope.

'Grone's territory,' Rafel thought, 'a place of mad men.' More crazy Deathlies flew past on rangers; shirtless boys, long-haired men, girls who looked virgin but who'd definitely had hardcore grooming. The sound of roaring vehicles on parade and the clicking of rattling machine parts on the many Mechas roboting around left the base in a tumult.

"This place is wicked!" The girl with piercings gulped with wide eyes. Of course she thought that! She was young, and uh... young.

Rafel had enough of the wildness and halted his camel. A Samurai who'd joined the escort hopped down and attended him as footman. Leaving the others to alight from their saddles also, Rafel stood in the literal square of Grone's military camp and barked on top of his voice.

"LISTEN HERE, YOU LOT. I SEEK YOUR SKULLRIDER, GRONE!"

All the noise and machine whirring came to an abrupt halt. Utter silence reigned for a full minute. It was so ironically quiet Rafel heard the desert wind blow. Then a hard voice sounded out a throng of gathered people.

"Surely you must mean Grone the Grievous."

The crowd parted in the middle. Out of it came the man who had spoken, the man with a voice that could cut bamboo, the largest human he'd ever seen. If Khalifa had scars, this mammoth had tears. He was a fucking beast.

"Is that Grone?" Cora leaned into Khalifa. She said it in a whisper. Khalifa didn't turn, but she nodded.

The beast was ten-foot tall.

"Fuck. Now I know why they call him The Grievous. If I had a face like that, I'd certainly make people grieve." This was Rafel.

He wondered if this beastly man would unify—or just nail him to a rotating cross.

All of the noisome riders, Deathlies, rapists, marauders, pedophiles, robbers, gold-mongers, cum-rags, cunt-lickers, hard lesbians, and plain motherfuckers flocked out behind this giant man: twice the army of Dementa and Zaftig put together.

Grone the Grievous stood with the mightiest force in the Badlands. Rafel blinked where he stood. "Fuck. We actually need this man."