<span style='color:red'>Celuvix Novox. Searching for the Underwater Facility. Day: 44 Month: Mia Year: 81378</span> A hell of bellowing smoke, scorched ground against the dated frozen ground, scrapped and rend apart from explosions. Corpses of Pendragons made uniform by a series of red ribbons and sashes about their necks and paws lay scattered over the ground, some ripped and mauled beyond recognition. Bodies lay ripped from inside out, steam rising from the still pumping bellies of these brutally murdered vagrants in a raid gone wrong. Some of their eyes stared widely into open space, even scarred across the face and gouged in a murderous rape of the body. In the distance, the sound of clanging metal and the occasional explosion, along with frantic shouting of older men from the slain group barely reached above the sound of blazing flames. <span style='color:red'>"Take everything and make a mad dash for the camp! They will run out of power by then by then!"</span> In the still active lands of the slow moving, yet systematic slaying, the few survivors scrambled through their destroyed makeshift camp to gather up as many provisions as possible and aid the wounded that could still be saved, racing against the surprise attack that so easily wiped out their defenses. Only young men, fresh to battle and inexperienced in the outreaches were left alive, their older and more gruff comrades either dead or too taken up with helping others to be of much aid. The remaining guards of their small group still fought back the offenders, packs of burly, black furred Pendragons with no other way of identification other than their killing proficiency. One by one, the traveling Pendragons fell with their backs ripped open by heavy sword, caught up in explosions of accurately thrown bombs, and ripped apart by the large jaws of the maddened, black Pendragons. The screams of pain grew with each passing second, only rivaled by flames crackling and roaring throughout the camp. It was not just the black Pendragons that served the slaughter, but a grotesque mass of machina in the shape of a large cylinder, rolling slowly through the ground. It served as a thorough clean up service, torching anything that went by and housing the Pendragons inside that took great pleasure in throwing bombs into scrambling masses of travelers. One of them landed inside a tent, which caused the occupants to run out in terror. A straggler, crippled by the first assault did not make it out as quickly, and was caught in the explosion. His back ripped open, slushing blood across the ground and tearing the skin from his sides, slammed to the ground and curled up like a sleeping dog. Out of the black flames came what seemed to be the leading forces of these berserk Pendragons warriors. He walked slowly and proudly with his flanks of armored companions, but not much could be seen as the wind changed, blowing smoke over the quick glance of black armor. <span style='color:blue'> "They've raided the gypsies just as planned. We just need to keep our distance and hope they lead us to the laboratory..."</span> Two hundred kilometers away, Celuvix and an unknown figure lay flat against the ground, enhanced in a form of a Biped fox, still in the basic shape of a Pendragons but with more of a human body frame, covered in blue and white fur. The young rogue wore only a heavy cloak of white to blend in with the snow, covering his matching white and blue trimmed body armor, while the unknown companion was completely shielded by a beige robe. Celuvix watched the onslaught through a Viewfinder he built from scratch after searching the Machina ruins, able to zoom in and scan the situation without much difficulty. <span style='color:blue'>"We wait for the situation to lighten up, or at least until we can find out what is going on."</span> <span style='color:green'>"Mmm..."</span> The cloaked Pendragons nodded, shadowed by the cloak. They both got up slowly, wiping the snow from their bodies, and took their time advancing towards the towering pillars of black smoke and orange flame light.
The thick black smoke, rolling through the air by the hands of the wind carried over the camp, making a heavy haze over a small expanse of land. Small fires contributed to the murky clouds, but mostly tainted by the destruction of some of the rectangular machina that the Vagrant Pendragons managed to take down before being run down. It seemed like there would be more survivors than anticipated, since only one of the "Machina Tanks" was still functional. Random spurts of Pendragons took off over the barren wasteland to their home camp, trying to salvage whatever was left. Still, the main cargo of preserved fruits, vegetables, and salted meats that they worked so hard to gather already became the property of the Black Pendragon Advancers. <span style='color:gray'>"We've been on the trail of small prey, my friends. It would seem that this was only a small provision caravan coming from the main camp. Too bad. We should have left more survivors so they could lead us to their home. I suppose...it is unavoidable..."</span> A soft voice, yet firm and unwavering. The voice that spoke came from a hulking pendragon who seemed to be the leader of all that went sour about the camp. He was shifted into a seven foot, muscular wolven wall of power. All gray, with not a taint of darkness or light in any of his fur. His whole body seemed to be perfect, untouched by the rage of battle. A well groomed, polished coat gave way to a head of snow white hait tied into a ponytail, obviously made silky by berry and herb conditioner. His black body armor was just as impressive in a artistic kind of way, but still functional. Nothing more than gargets over his shoulder, collar guards, a breastplate, and bracers on his arms and legs. The metal borders had etched symbols of red that gave the impression of fire, a sort of sparkling flame inside the letters spelling out various Magickal influences, but had no immediate importance. Over his shoulder, a hulking black and gray axe shifted loudly with every step, and what appeared to be a belt of ammunition running down near the end of the shaft and over his other shoulder. Behind the walking Pendragon were four more, each following at a quick trot. Green, Red, Blue, and Blonde. Each tainted with birthmarks of gray. Each of them with an expression that best fit their color. Whatever it was coming from the four pendragons behind him was unknown, but definately unnatural. <span style='color:gray'>"Baiko, Irvine, head back to the laboratory and give the Officers a full report on the location. Kjetet, follow them at a distance in case we've been traced. Crusher...finish the job here."</span> The blonde pendragon lowered her head slightly, looking towards a larger group of fleeing pendragons from the destroyed camp. She whipped her raging red tail, flicking the spiked fur in every direction her tail swayed. She spoke with a deep, truly womanly voice. <span style='color:yellow'>"Do you not want us to trace the location of their main camp, Breaker?"</span> Breaker, the walking gray Pendragon, placed his index and middle fingers onto his forehead, shaking in disagreement. <span style='color:gray'>"Far too much of a hassle, and we've been gone too long anyway. We will go next time. Besides, it will be more--"</span> Breaker seemed to stare in the direction of Celuvix and his companion, eyes locked on completely, then turned his head back to his companions. The image Celuvix saw in his Viewfinder was enough to stop his advance. <span style='color:gray'>"...It will be more fun. Go by land. We will meet up at the Crystal Grinder in four days. Get to it."</span> The four Pendragons nodded, then broke away from their formation into the smoke. Only the far away flicker of the blue pendragon's tail visable for to the east. Breaker stayed behind, turning her glare to some of the Pendragons still trying to escape from her subordinates. This was the legend known in the area as "Bitch Blade Crusher". <span style='color:yellow'>"Leave nothing alive, nothing defiled. Take what you want and burn the rest. That includes the people."</span>
Celuvix jerked his head slightly while looking down to the cloaked one at his side, starting again through the nearly flat plain of snow and ice. Almost undetectable because of the heat waves around the heavy, fuel fed flames and the already natural blend of their cloaks to the snow, the two could afford to make a rather quick sprint towards the massacre site. <span style='color:yellow'>"Make sure we get that Majicka Generator Unit in tact! We're running low on power with half of our scavenger ships, and we might not have to make another stop before the coast! Ugh...how badly I wish to get out of this poor fuck of a wasteland. I don't know why I volunteered in the first place."</span> Crusher muttered to herself, sitting down on her hind legs while the underlings of Advancer too to their business. There was obviously a few survivors still left behind, hiding in hopes that the rogues didn't bother to search for them. Crusher was much more thorough, too systematic for that. She tried to leave no survivors that could remember, no need for revenge that suffered from battle. It was her own personal experience from being one of the few left behind, to live a life fueled by hatred and feeling nothing but a void once revenge was fed. She was much more stable than the others of her order, but her own lunatic policy was to never leave survivors to suffer the same fate, no matter what. The blonde Pendragon stared across the desolated area, her lightning yellow eyes slowly scanning every nook and cranny on her own. A pair of black scarfed Pendragon berserkers went past her, carrying across a rather large Fronima power cell that seemed to be half depleted. While inspected it half heartedly, she noticed a small movement just underneath a fallen clutter of metal beams. She set her pure white paw down on the snow, getting up from her haunches. <span style='color:yellow'>"Wait a moment...follow me."</span> Crusher's teeth glared and twinkled as she spoke, commanding the two rather husky, black Pendragon berserkers to follow her. The blonde Pendragon's petite, fox-like paws trotted quickly across the snow, a vivid contrast from her company's far and few in between steps of large, bear in size paws. Celuvix stopped just a few feet shy of where the active rogues seemed to be finishing their work. It was a horrible sight. Slain bodies of Pendragons, some even in mid shape shifting were strewn across the snow, a sickening pain of red and white in uneven spots, completely soaking the snow near them. He crept slowly on the side of a heavy fallen machine, resembling a giant turbine with slow turning propellor inside that sparked with Majicka from burned away wires touching metal contacts. He leaned against the flat side of the turbine, then kneeled down just enough to get a better view from the less exposed part of the curve. "Xila, what have you been able to find out so far?" Celuvix whispered, speaking to the only person with him. The hooded figure, from what could be observed named Xila, held a one-foot long blue and green rod tightly with both hands, laying against the turbine and whispering back. A soft, quiet, young female voice came out of the hood with the cold frost of winter just as he requested. "Advancer's coverage is approximately two miles of heavily damaged machinery, but not all of it is covered. To be more exact, most of the Advancer's rogues in the damaged area are scattered apart, in groups no larger than four. The shape is...roughly the shape of a rectangle, but of course not strict to the exact shape. Damage...is consisted of large airships that crashed just above, and parts from rogue land ships that were broken down. There is plenty of cover, but just as many to be stalked from. I suggest--" "That's enough...we're not going to fight if we can help it. All we need to do is extract as much as we can from Crusher and figure out where to head next." Celuvix's gloved, knuckle armor hand was leaving the side of his cloak, reached in with his hands grabbing on to a small hilt with what would appear to be a clockwork guard. Just pulling enough to make it accessible, the crystal-like blue blade of Celuvix's Chinese War Sword Ice Fang came from his cloak, already spilling frost from the broad side of the blade. "Don't get any further that twenty feet away from me, Celuvix. It is a labyrinth of broken machinery, melted ice rivers, and flame. Still, I suggest we split up." "Right. You would have better luck being in the secrecy of the rubble. I'll be where I can draw they're attention if need be. Let' go." Celuvix closed his blade into his cloak, both of them sprinting from sight at the sound of the blade. Along the high towers of fallen machinery and pillars of smoke, only the intermittent shapes of the two infiltrators flashed from open space to space.
((Yes. Start. I guess it annoys people to put Crusher's voice in yellow, so I'll stop. XD)) The mind numbing squeal of excoriated metal grew from underneath, shafts of fire smudged and wrenched beams creaking out of the snow, both of the Advancer Berserkers ripping out the nest piece by piece in their teeth. <span style='color:yellow'>Crusher</span> sat calmly in front of the shrinking heap, a deep and cold gaze going into the darker hole made by the crossing shafts and beams. She could barely make it out, but there was something still inside, something that was far too small or frightened to be of her company. The Pendragons blonde and white flamed tail swayed from side to side, making her body appear more statuesque. Only a matter of time before the metal was ripped away, and whatever lay inside knew. As a beam fell onto the snow, hissing against the ground with steam rising from the mildly heated metal, a loud squeal of disapproval--a frightened whine to be more exact--burst from inside. A burst of white and gray fur shot out of the hole, a Pendragon not far past infancy trying to make a mad dash to safety. When the small, fluffy Pendragon passed by Crusher, it stopped quickly with one paw still in the air, head cocked and frozen in its tracks. "..." "..." Crusher stared down, both eyes locked onto the fearful gray eyes of the small pup. Her eyes, lightning bright and reflective, almost like a fine polish, seemed to have a dangerous glaze past just her face, a dancing pit of flames just beyond her iris that was difficult to tell whether it was reflection or paranoia. Crusher turned her head slightly, trotting off into the snow while the two Berserks headed off to do the grunt work they needed to since there was no real need for fighting muscle. The Pendragon pup had no chance, put into danger twice in one day and its life on the line. Such high stress and fear usually left as torture, even harsh for grown men, blew its mind and evidently its heart, putting the child to rest with a quiet thud into the snow, eyes still staring just as they were at Crusher. "Keep on the alert, and don't let anything out of your site. That last Vagrant Caravan was supposed to have a Supercell class weapon in their possession, and we haven't found it yet. Information like that just doesn't come out of nowhere." Crusher sighed slightly, tired of the whole business and tired of the cold. She had better things to do than baby-sit a gang of grunts that could do just fine on their own. As long as she was there, she decided to get as much done as possible. "I'm going to find out if the team dispatched to the wreckage has found anything yet. Try not to break anything of value while I'm gone?" The more intelligent, job oriented Advancers nodded and waved while checked the charges of the still working equipment, leaving Crusher to her own devices.
