Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Midlands

Tiko

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Lobos

From the city Butcher came, and now he soared over the Midlands a streak of fire in the sky, propelled no longer by his wings held steady at his sides, but by the raw energies he wielded. Merely using wings and tail to steer, the infernal wyrm's speed had come to rival that of a fighter jet's, boiling over the forests and plains. His path headed in a southwestern course, moving far more rapidly than a creature of his side had a natural right to be doing.
 
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as written by Tiko

The trail of flames that Butcher left in his wake set the neighboring farmland and forest both ablaze, and with him fast moving out of the bizarre weather anomaly that had engulfed Westeria City in a torrential downpour, the infernal fires were left to spread with impunity.

If left unchecked, the devastation of the spreading fires had the potential of being truly catastrophic to the surrounding countryside.
 
as written by Script

Aiedail continued to keep pace with Butcher as he fled out into more open land, but his actions gave her pause.

"Requesting updated orders!" she transmitted to the TAF, "I am equipped to respond rapidly to the fires if given leave to break off pursuit!"
 
as written by Ronin

Speeding alongside Aiedail, a squad of raptor guardians kept their sights on the fleeing dragon. Farther behind was Nero's Fiddle, the enormous Trireme pulling along slowly below the clouds.

Aboard its deck, Vrail listened to Aiedail's question with frustrated uncertainty. He'd seen the damage to Little Shintenchi and the rest of the city. As if that wasn't bad enough, the Butcher's fires now threatened the forest and farms of Midland. The area needed immediate relief, quickly. Still, the WCPD special unit could prove to be invaluable in ensuring that the Butcher was brought to justice. The captain had a decision to make - relief for his people? Or justice for the slain?

It took him only a second to decide.

"Aideail," he commed, "put out these fires, then return to Westeria for relief efforts." He set his eyes on the dragon. "We'll do everything we can to bring this beast down." He opened it up to the rest of his troopers. "All units, hold ground!"

The guardians paused, hovering above the grasslands in waiting. The butcher already had a mile lead on them.

He turned to his technicians. "Alright. Send out paladin fighters. But first..." His eyes narrowed. "...give this worm some fire of our own."

No longer using the city as a shield, the TNG Navy was at last able to provide covering fire. If he gave the order, Vrail knew he could lay down a field of destruction miles wide and cover the Butcher's flight path in beams of plasma and flurries of railslugs. For a moment, he almost tempted. A half-mile radius DE blast with Butcher as its epicenter ... that would stop him. That would make him pay.

But with a weary grunt, the captain dismissed the idea. The ensuing damage to the Midlands, the forest fires the blast would create, the potential of annihilating farmers and villages ... no. Too much was at stake. The end result of capturing the Butcher did not justify disregarding his people and planet. Plain and simple, the dragon wasn't worth it.

"Concentrated gauss blasts," he gave the order, "lay down fire until our fighters arrive, then hold."

Turrets whirred on the hull of the Trireme and unleashed a flurry of slugs against the Butcher. With the distance the dragon had put between them and his astounding speed, it was unlikely any of them would hit dead-on ... but it may give the beast pause. Chunks of earth flew up in his face to his left and right, supersonic slugs whirring past his ears.

Meanwhile, starfighters deployed from the hull of the Fiddle. A squad of Paladin II fighters soared into action, gravity-flux propellants kicking into gear as they raced to catch up to their target.
 
as written by Script

As the fight raged on into the distance, Aiedail pulled back. When broken starships had rained down on the forests outside of Westeria a few years past, Aiedail had been the one who quenched them. But her sensors were indicating that these fires were spreading far more rapidly than was natural. She would be hard pressed to prevent them causing significant damage.

Even still, her efforts would have an impact. She swerved in her flight, rocketing at immense speeds towards the inlet leading into Westeria. Once there, she directed her grav-cannons at the water, drawing as much of it as she could out and up into the air.

Her flight back was slower, due to the added weight of the water, but it remained fast. So began what would undoubtedly be a lengthy task. The android was easily doing the work of a dozen helitankers, but Butcher's fires were persistent. It was a good thing androids didn't get tired.
 
as written by Lobos

The first slug hurtled in a near miss off to the Butcher's left, a snarl escaping him as he began to bank and weave, opening rear-facing eyes and sneering. Independence had been granted him, the preeminence among his fellow servants allowing for flexibility. Where the Pariah had requested, the Butcher merely did.

Flames erupted like a geyser around Butcher as he loosed the constraints he had placed. The air around him went from several hundred degrees to several thousand, a horrifying 3700 degrees Fahrenheit. The air around the infernal drake suddenly erupted in steam as the ambient humidity boiled, even hundreds of feet over the ground, flora and fauna caught fire, the very ground searing as Butcher wheeled around, his rising power skyrocketing as he slowed, then wheeled to face his pursuit.

A visage transformed, exposed surface a uniform white from the immense heat boiling from his inferno core. A corona of spontaneous fires erupted around him, impurities carried on the wind incinerating in the face of his strength. Half seen, shimmers announced his power field around him, the ardent orange sphere brighter than it even had been within the confines of the city. His pause allowed a gun to score a strike, the hypervelocity slug impacting the globe, a screaming report filling the sky as it met with flaring, hellish energies, fully half of the slug bursting into superheated fragments and molten droplets, a large chunk careening from the surface with a scarcely slowed ricochet that bored a long furrow in the earth below.

Eyes left the Nero's Fiddle, turning to the Paladins as they raced for him, and the Butcher screamed loose a sky-shaking roar that's mere overpressure flattened trees beneath him, before his head fell with maw open, a burst stream of incineration flashing from his throat. Nearly a laser, the beam traced a line of white across the sky, neck slashing wickedly to pass the stream of 5000 degree plasma across the fighters in a downwards slash, the termination slashing into the countryside, slagging soil and ripping a brilliant, ignited line of inferno.

"Aaaaaaaggg!" The daemon screamed, all pretenses cast aside.
 
as written by Script

Far back in the direction of Westeria, Butcher's path of destruction had taken him past the sparkling waters of Lake Aranai. Though the dragon's passing had done little to harm the waters, the fires in the surrounding forest drew the attention of one of the lake's denizens.

A glimmering humanoid shape rose from the lake upon a spiral of water as Teo Aranai, the naiad who claimed the lake as his own, cast his eyes upon the blazing countryside. Scowling at the destruction, he raised his arms. The waters of the lake began to glow brightly, and like a mighty tide they surged upwards to gather around him in the air.

Far more water than ought to have been contained within even such a large lake swirled in the air, before the naiad directed it outwards. Pulses of water washed over the landscape, crashing down upon the flames with a violent hiss, as vast plumes of steam rose from where the two forces met. The war between water and flame was one-sided close to the lake, and even the infernal fires were soon doused by the sheer quantity of water that fell upon them.

Further away, the water fell thinner, and the flames continued to fight for their lives. Teo seemed to show no signs of ceasing, however, directing his powers as far as he could from his place of strength.

Only when he had done all he could from his lake did he alight on the shores and set out to seek out blazes further afield.
 
as written by Tiko and Lobos

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Midlands...

Rhea stepped out of a shimmering portal into an underground complex situated within Midlands, safely removed from the chaos of Westeria City. Several others had been ushered in behind her along with the TAF soldiers that had escorted them through.

The brunt of the parliament had been evacuated to bunkers within Gonthar, but the Prime Minister and the Minister of Defense now found themselves in what was intended as an emergency war room in the event of an attack upon the government.

Medical and military personnel alike rushed Rhea the moment the portal closed behind her, but whatever episode had struck her back in the Government Center had passed and she waved off the former.

"I need reports," Rhea instructed. "What is the situation in Westeria City?"

“Fubar,” muttered Max as he ran a hand through his hair, rubbing at his temples.

"We're receiving mixed reports," someone answered. "The NPA HQ was hit as well, but some reports claim friendly fire."

"By whom?" Rhea asked.

"Tech Con."

"The WCPD HQ and Hagan Avenue have both sustained heavy damages as well," someone else interjected.

“Solid intel points at the initial terrorists are either fleeing the city, or gone altogether. Nero’s Fiddle is in pursuit of Rogue Alpha.”

“Early damage assessments are estimating double digit millions already. Preliminary casualty estimates are actually pointing at the terrorists causing...less deaths than friendly fire?! The hell is that possible?”

"Apparently a Lieutenant Ashlyn MacDugg has ordered the detainment and arrest of Tech Con Chief, Callandra Henderson, in response to the damages. Along with ordering the lockdown of the Tech Con Quarter, and the arrests of dozens of employees."

"Under whose authority?" Rhea asked.

"No one's."

“Her ass is going in a fire when this is over.” Dirge growled. “This isn’t good. How the fuck could the Lieutenant think that was a wise decision, given we almost know how the Aschen are going to react to this?”

"This is a disaster," Rhea grimaced. "Get orders to that Lieutenant. Martial law has not been declared, and the TAF are to hold. Instruct them to contain the situation, but they are not clear to move on Tech Con." There was no denying the worry etched into her brow as she looked to Dirge. “Thirty Triremes?”

“Not enough.” The Minister of Defense’s face was etched with lines of shadows as he critically studied the screens. “If the reaction is a warfleet, that’s going to barely be a speed bump when they come knocking. If I had to make a call, I’d be on the horn with the Shintenchi Embassies requesting temporary orbital positioning to try and keep the Triremes in territory the Aschen would be loathe to fire into. Close enough to jump back in, if they absolutely had to, but in the way?”

Max shook his head. “Better to keep them grounded though. Leave them planetside. Get on the phone with the shipyards, though. I want bare essentials on site, they might be considered a target.”

"If the Empire retaliates, we won't win a confrontation in open battle," Rhea remarked as she agreed with Max's desire to keep their remaining Triremes grounded. "But as long as we hold Hagan Avenue we have some leverage to try and keep this from turning into an all-out bloodbath. What can you get me on the situation there?" she asked of the gathered personnel.

"Tech Con has stood down, and the TAF are on scene," someone answered. "Callandra Henderson has already been taken into custody, along with several individuals directly involved in the skirmishing that have been since transferred to the NPA."

“Hold a corridor around Hagan Avenue, and get the TAF presence dug in. We hold what we have, and see where we stand to execute negotiations in a best case scenario. Anything that’s TAF and not in Westeria City, I want it under cover and or as far away from there as humanly possible.” Max barked.

"I want the names of every Tech Con employee that was taken into custody," Rhea added. "Find out which ones are Aschen citizens. We need to clear the streets as well. Get the civilians indoors and start evacuations of the buildings within half a mile of Hagan Avenue."

Glancing at Rhea, Dirge sighed heavily. “Elevate to High Alert status. Mechanized units are not to move, infantry level action only, and only in the vicinity of Westeria City.”

“I hope we’re wrong about the Empire,” Rhea answered grimly.

But from what she knew of the Aschen, they weren’t wrong.
 
as written by Ronin

Prior to this, the starfighters scrambled to evade Butcher's blast. Their comms were a frenzy.

"He's charing-"

"What is it-"

"Move!"

Too late. The pillar of plasma passed through the left wing of one of the paladins just as it veered to evade. Titanium alloy melted on contact and the fighter spiraled into a crash. The squad formed to regroup, this time taking wider positions, putting more space between each starfighter. They waited until the blast from the Trireme was finished before moving in once again.

In the midst of this, the bridge of Nero's Fiddle was a blur of activity. "Sir, we're reading a huge energy spike!" one of the technicians shouted, "temperatures surrounding the target have increased to nearly four thousand degrees Fahrenheit."

"He's trying to fight back..." Vrail's brows furrowed. The captain had assumed that the dragon would try to make a quick escape. He never thought that the Butcher would actually try and engage the Fiddle.

As the beast let loose his roar, the captain's eyes widened. "He's level, and stationary. No civilians in the vicinity. Target lock, railgun."

"Locked. Primed."

"Fi-"

"Hold!" another technicians yelped, eyes wide. A pair of wings on his back fluttered nervously. "I'm reading signatures just below the target's location!"

Vrail growled. "Dragon fire, perhaps?"

"No sir, too small! They're moving as well."

"Could just be animals," another technician offered.

The captain swore under his breath. "If there's even the slightest chance that innocents will be caught in the crossfire, we don't shoot. Hold the railgun." He watched one of his paladins go down in a beam of fire and plasma. His jaw grit. They'd had a perfect shot. He only hoped he'd get a second chance.
 
as written by Script

The first sign that something was amiss at the small coastal cove came as a stifling heat wave rolled through the woods and into town, followed by the daemonic roar that shook the very buildings.

Smoke and hellish fire marred line of sight on Butcher, but one keen set of eyes narrowed upon the rippling heat waves over the forest trying to make out what he was seeing.

As Butcher unleashed a stream of plasma upon TAF fighters, R'muel's eyes went wide.

"Dragon!" he bellowed. "Dragon!"

The gypsy rovers were far from strangers when it came to dragons, but it wasn't often that the beasts were particularly hostile this close to the capital. This one seemed in a class all of its own though, and other shouts rang loudly.

"Fire! Fire! Get the ships in the air!"

It was a mad scramble as people flooded the nearby ship-yard like ants, all scrambling to get their vessels airborne and out over the water away from the fires. It wasn't in their nature to stand and fight, and yet... pressed up against the coastal waters, there was nowhere to escape for those who had no ships.

The forest was burning, and the fires rapidly encroaching on the small settlement. Women clutched children, while others sought to bribe their way aboard the airships, but there was more people than space to go around.

There upon the sands R'muel caught sight of a familiar individual - Dryden Veugh.

"Dryden!" he hollered. "Call the crew!"

Dryden didn't need to be told twice as he sent out a summoning via his callstone before jogging after R'muel who was already casting the lines off his airship, The Ever Rest.

She was a low built vessel of an older design, but one of which R'muel much preferred to the newer models you could get off the line these days. Its construction more closely matched the ships of old, with her twin masts and sleek hull. However, she made a name for herself with both speed and maneuverability, and though lithely built, she had the heft and weapons of a hardy mercenary vessel as well. She was the perfect balance of nimbleness and constitution.

Most of the crew was already aboard, preparing for late morning departure, but M'reth and Ciara were not among them.

"Where's the girls?" R'muel shouted to Dryden as the rugged wizard joined him atop the deck.

"There!" Dryden shouted back as he got a bead on their callstones and pointed to the northeast, where the flames had overtaken the forest. "They're still alive!"

"Get us in the air, and bring us around!" R'muel shouted to the crew.

It might not have been in the nature of the gypsy rovers to stand and fight, but where family was concerned, there wasn't a one among the crew who questioned the decision. You don't leave those of your own blood behind.
 
as written by Tiko

The first sign that something was amiss at the small coastal cove came as a stifling heat wave rolled through the woods and into town, followed by the daemonic roar that shook the very buildings.

Smoke and hellish fire marred line of sight on Butcher, but one keen set of eyes narrowed upon the rippling heat waves over the forest trying to make out what he was seeing.

As Butcher unleashed a stream of plasma upon TAF fighters, R'muel's eyes went wide.

"Dragon!" he bellowed. "Dragon!"

The gypsy rovers were far from strangers when it came to dragons, but it wasn't often that the beasts were particularly hostile this close to the capital. This one seemed in a class all of its own though, and other shouts rang loudly.

"Fire! Fire! Get the ships in the air!"

It was a mad scramble as people flooded the nearby ship-yard like ants, all scrambling to get their vessels airborne and out over the water away from the fires. It wasn't in their nature to stand and fight, and yet... pressed up against the coastal waters, there was nowhere to escape for those who had no ships.

The forest was burning, and the fires rapidly encroaching on the small settlement. Women clutched children, while others sought to bribe their way aboard the airships, but there was more people than space to go around.

There upon the sands R'muel caught sight of a familiar individual - Dryden Veugh.

"Dryden!" he hollered. "Call the crew!"

Dryden didn't need to be told twice as he sent out a summoning via his callstone before jogging after R'muel who was already casting the lines off his airship, The Ever Rest.

She was a low built vessel of an older design, but one of which R'muel much preferred to the newer models you could get off the line these days. Its construction more closely matched the ships of old, with her twin masts and sleek hull. However, she made a name for herself with both speed and maneuverability, and though lithely built, she had the heft and weapons of a hardy mercenary vessel as well. She was the perfect balance of nimbleness and constitution.

Most of the crew was already aboard, preparing for late morning departure, but M'reth and Ciara were not among them.

"Where's the girls?" R'muel shouted to Dryden as the rugged wizard joined him atop the deck.

"There!" Dryden shouted back as he got a bead on their callstones and pointed to the northeast, where the flames had overtaken the forest. "They're still alive!"

"Get us in the air, and bring us around!" R'muel shouted to the crew.

It might not have been in the nature of the gypsy rovers to stand and fight, but where family was concerned, there wasn't a one among the crew who questioned the decision. You don't leave those of your own blood behind.
 
as written by Lobos

Screeching with pleasure, the sockets of Butcher's eyes gleamed with boiling sadism, settling on the largest of his pursuit, the Nero's Fiddle. Wingbeats thrummed the air, holding the wyrm steady as he drew breath, channeling the storm of his unleashed strength as it so kindly held itself dead in the water before it.

"Paal," The heat storm abated for a split second, as the first, thundering word of the invocation sounded, compressing the full force of his energies within his gullet, and then his head lined itself, maw yawning. 'Tu!"

Foehammer.

The airborne shock wave of the bolt that ripped from the Butcher's throat hurled him backwards hundreds of feet, the daemon-drake tumbling as his wings fought to catch him, the recoil monstrous as his heatwaves began to drive to their previous place. The screaming channeled energies took the form of an over sized ballista's bolt, multiple rings defining how many times it broke the speed of sound. Twelve rings shattered in its wake, the seething lance of magic flying straight and true for the Fiddle's bow.

It was a power that well fit the Butcher's methods, an anti-fortress technique forged to bring the mightiest of structures to its knees. But not in the manner most expected. This was not a power that burned its target to ash. Twas not meant to burn the castle to the ground.

But to reduce it to a broken crater in the ground. Striking for the Nero's Fiddle was a blast quite comparable to it's own main gauss cannon.
 
as written by Ronin

Vrail's eyes narrowed as he saw the heat storm surrounding the Butcher quell.

"What is he..." The shot fired, his eyes widened. "Brace!"

Foehammer struck the bottom of the Fiddle's bow with resounding force. Shields rippled, the Trireme's energy reserves unable to raise fast enough to counter the tremendous strike. Vrail hadn't maximized the ship's defensive shields, wanting instead to redirect the surplus power to the guns. Not even a dragon had the firepower to penetrate a Trireme's hull, right?

Wrong. The ballista smashed through ten solid feet of tungsten-steel alloy like paper mache and powered through entire beams of the ship's titanium skeleton with the grace of a freight train running through bales of hay. The entire ship jolted backwards, the massive frigate literally reeling in mid-air, thrusters working frantically to stabilize itself.

The technicians on the bridge, held on to their chairs and railings as the whole world careened to the left.

"Stabilize," Vrail growled, "shields back up. Damage report?"

"Clean hit, sir," an officer spoke up, "penetrated our hull, went clean out to the back and made it halfway through our hull a second time before it was finally stopped.

The captain shook his head. The beast had torn through thirty feet of solid, tempered metal and ripped open a 800 meter re-enforced capital ship in a single strike. Dragons didn't do that. Gods did that. He watched the image of the monster on his screen, face vacant.

"Thankfully the lower decks are mostly cargo..." another's hands flitted over his screen, "...engines are working, so are our shields and guns."

Vrail was still looking at his screen. "Dim lights. Lower altitude."

The technicians all glanced up. One of them cleared her throat. "Sir...?"

"He's cocky," Vrail explained slowly, "he expects to be able to beat us." His eyes drifted upwards at his men, grey and thoughtful. "He anticipated that his attack would cripple us, and we're going to make him believe it did. Minimize auto-repair systems and have the paladins engage. Have some engineers set off controlled charges near the damage site that simulate a plasma core overload." He placed his holopad on a nearby table. "And comm me into our best raptor pilot." He turned in his chair, gaze locked on the large overhead screen where the dragon was likely just catching his balance. "We're going to take this worm right out of the sky."

---

Outside, the Butcher would swiftly be engaged once more, a squad of paladin fighters soaring towards the beast as he flew backwards, unleashing barrage after barrage of gauss fire on the monster. The rounds, however, would be both smaller and of a lesser velocity than what the Fiddle had previously unleashed on the Butcher. With the dragon absorbing heat, the fighters dared not release their plasma missiles. Gunfire was all they had.

---

In the burning forest, three guardians on raptor packs descended into trees just as the Ever Rest reached Ciara and M'reth.

"TNG!" one of them shouted, "you need to clear out immediately! There's a-"

Foehammer hit the Fiddle at that moment, a shockwave of force exploding out of the Trireme and quaking the earth below. The guardians nearly fell over.

"Gods above!" one of them swore, "-a dragon! A dragon on twelve different kinds of steroid, apparently! You need to move, now!"
 
as written by Tiko

"The TNG has them!" a look-out called from aboard the Ever Rest as they glided over the trees.

The heat and smoke rising from the burning forest was suffocating, and they dared not try to steer their ship down into it.

"Pull out!" R'muel ordered. "Position us over the river!"

The river that connected the lake to the coast wasn't a particularly large one, but it offered a break in the trees, and subsequently the fires as well. He didn't remotely like the idea of putting M'reth's safety in the hands of the TNG, but with the TNG waving them off they were more apt to drawing friendly fire by forcing their way into the situation without a means to communicate intent. For now, they hung back.

"Keep a bead on their location, I want to know the moment they're clear!" he shouted to Dryden.

Meanwhile on the ground, M'reth and Ciara were at the hands of the TNG to get clear of the area, given that they would never make it clear of the inferno on foot. M'reth was all but doubled over, gasping for air into the sleeve of her shirt.
 
as written by Lobos

Winds buffeting his frame as he managed to gather his balance once more, the Butcher's blazing sockets drank the wallowing trireme with satisfaction. Dominance had been demonstrated, the hunter become the hunted. Wheeling as the paladin's lashed out at him once again, he didn't both with the scant pests, their minute rounds boiling away into gas long before they reached his hide.

Banking out of a hover, Butcher resumed his course, retaining a watchful eye behind him in case the Nero's Fiddle elected on being a fool and pursuing once anew.

The daemon, after all, possessed his own agendas to keep.
 
as written by Ronin

Securing the girls, the guardians ascended out of the burning forest into the sky. They were careful not to accelerate at a speed that would harm them, but wasted no time in freeing them from the smoke. They hovered a few hundred feet in the air.

"That's your ship, right?" one of them asked, nodding to the airship. "We can take you straight to it. Hold tight."

---

Aboard the Fiddle, plans were being executed.

"Our pilot is ready?" Vrail asked.

"Yessir. Former TETRS op. We have two oracles on-deck ready to teleport him. We've outfitted him with shields and a frostwaker - and he'll have the mages feeding him." The technician looked up. "Sir he... he still won't defeat that monster."

"He doesn't need to," Vrail replied, "he just needs to last." His fingers flitted across his polopad. The orders were given. "Let's finish this."
 
as written by Tiko

With Ciara and M'reth back aboard, and the TNG pursuing the dragon out over the ocean, the area was fast vacating save for the growing flames that burned on yet.

"Should we join the other ships off the coast?" someone asked.

Off to the side M'reth was coughing into her arm still trying to clear her airways from the smoke inhalation.

"No, take us inland," R'muel instructed. "Keep us upwind from the flames."

"Inland?" M'reth asked as she caught her breath from another coughing fit.

"I want to put as much distance between us and this place as possible," R'muel explained. "I don't like the look of things, and I don't think safety in numbers is our best option at the moment."

The crew went to work getting the ship turned about as R'muel checked his stopwatch. Irony would have it that they were scheduled to set sail in an hour to deliver a shipment to Port Mahar. No reason to let good money go to waste in the wake of a rampaging dragon, and Mahar was as good as place as any to head until things died down here.

"Dryden, can you give us a hand with the wind?" he asked.

Dryden, in response, raised his hands up and his eyes rolled back on his head as he brought forth a gale wind that set the ship lurching inland. With his spell complete he lowered his hands and wiped an arm across his brow.

"It should keep for about an hour," he told R'muel. "Time enough to get some distance from here."
 
as written by Tiko

Some time later...

The fires raged on, threatening the coastal town with every passing minute. Those within the town had made their way down to the beach, but they were trapped between the water and downwind of the forest fire. The heat and smoke alone would kill them surely enough.

The gypsy rover ships would likely have faired better where they remained clustered off the coast to avoid the spreading fires. Unfortunately, the water would offer no protection from that which struck them from the skies.

The salvo of turbodisruptor fire tore through them like kindling. They hadn't the time to even know they were under attack before they were simply engulfed in the destructive force of the turbodisriptor bolts. The fortunate ones never even knew what hit them, obliterated in a moment of senseless destruction.

The less fortunate were cast down into the waters amid the wreckages of their ships, likely to be boiled alive.

Those on the shoreline could only look on in horror, and though the immense steam blinded them to what was going on out over the water, the flashes of turbodisruptor fire and the screams of the dying would haunt them for decade to come.
 
as written by Script

The coastal lands to the northwest of Westeria were home to a number of innocuous towns and cities of much lesser fame than the capital. Though they had their share of disasters, villains and heroes, they were on a smaller scale than the cataclysms and wars that struck to the south. By comparison, they were calm, almost idyllic. They were a place to go to retire, away from the chaos of the city that seemed to be the centre of more than one universe. They were a place that people could find peace.

That was all about to change.

Thousands of miles overhead, the fabric of reality was stretched out in an attempt to flatten it. The result was far from what was intended. The fabric tore, and the world was rent asunder in kind.

One moment, the countryside and settlements of western Terra carried on as they always had – they were on alert, preparing to respond to the Aschen assault of Westeria.

The next, all was light.

A roar of energy the likes of which could be heard for hundreds of miles around rippled outwards from a point at their centre, and from that point exploded a mountain. It speared upwards into the clouds, annihilating an entire town in an instant of destruction, and from that mountain a wall of brilliant light tore over the landscape.

Where the light passed, all changed. Roads, towns and cities disappeared, consumed by the devouring wave as though they had never been. People screamed and ran without hope, for the speed of the energy was immense.

But not all that the light brought was destruction. Where it consumed cities, it did not leave behind nothingness. Vast swathes of developed land were replaced with untouched wilderness, beautiful forests and rolling plains. At the hearts of larger cities, civilisation remained, but it was civilisation changed. Where skyscrapers and concrete roads had stood, they were replaced by beautiful structures of carved stone and marble. Ruined temples maintained as a relic of ages past sprung up as though new, and long-drained rivers and lakes were restored.

The new cities did not stand empty, either. In their streets, people looked upwards with yells of shock, as the sky seemed to jump, clouds reforming. Soldiers clad in armour of leather and metal drew swords in wary anticipation, whilst priests in long white robes murmured a prayer to their gods.

At the heart of all this change, the clouds began to circle the mountain that had signalled its start. In the heavens, long-silent powers found themselves renewed by a surge of belief, and in realms below, a mirroring darkness stirred.

The ancient lands of Avaros had returned. What fate befell those who had dwelled in the cities and towns it replaced, was unknown.
 
as written by Ronin

Not far from the coastline, the three guardians that had helped Ciara and M'reth were inspecting a small farmstead. The fires were rapidly raging inward, and anyone still living in the vicinity needed to be evacuated immediately.

"We checked everywhere, Giles," one of them hovered back to the main group, "they must have cleared out already."

"Check for a cellar," another responded "just in case. These fires won't spare anything."

All three looked suddenly south, brilliant beams of green funneling out of the sky and spearing into the ground a half mile away. The squad responded quickly, flying up into the air towards the strike, halting as they cleared the tree line. The corpses of air ships lay strewn across the water like bodies, the littoral town raging in an inferno red and black.

"What... what just..." the first said.

Giles looked up at the Reverence looming over the city. "Monsters. Fucking monsters."

The third shook her head, hefting her sixer. "Focus. We're miles from the main group." She looked to the second. "You've got rank, Giles, What do we do?"

"We act." He pointed to the first. "Search the wreckage for survivors, then join me and Raga at the town on the shoreline." He turned towards the burning village. "There's a lot of life signatures on the beach. They're trapped."

Nothing else needed to be said. The first guardian soared into the wreckage of the nearest airship with the precision of a missile, slamming into its pulverized bow and peering into the flaming wreck. Flames licked against the plates of his armor, the rapidly-heating water steaming against his visor.

"Hello?!" he roared into the carnage, his vox carrying his voice far, "anyone?! Can anyone here me?!"

---

At the beach, the remaining two guardians touched down in the waters before the mob of townsfolk. Smoke and ash whipped through the air, the fires raging closer with every passing second.

"Here!" the lead voxed through the crowds, "TNG! We can take three at a time! Children first! MOVE!"


---

In the TNG war room, Rhea and Max would receive a hail from a TAF commline.

"Ministers, this is Commander Amadi Lagbadara," the former TETRS trooper's voice was underscored by a low rumbling, "I'm in full ANDEE, travelling northeast from Hafirjan at 1500 miles per hour. I should be able to reach the city in less than five minutes. I've been briefed, and I'm at your disposal. Where do you need me most?"
 
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