Sraekt sat on a vantage point overlooking the ambush spot. He had taken some thirty Eliksni with him, and a few Walkers to guard the LZ. All-in-all, a sizeable force, but for a sizeable mission. The Industrial Wastes of an old island country was where he found himself, and the hive that prowled the caustic, waste-filled ground. Misraaks had landed the House Light Ketch nearby, the only mildly safe place to land on all of Earth. However, they were out of fuel for the Ketch and had to get some more. Luckily, the irradiated chitin of the Hive that infested this area had proved perfect for creating more. Sraekt didn’t ever want to watch the process, his imagination was enough, but he could help in the gathering. He, and the captain leading the band, knew that this was quite popular for Hive rituals, as the stone walls amplified the sounds of their chanting, and there was a single entrance from ground level, a cleft in the rock to his left that even a knight could walk through comfortably. The time of day was also good, as the sun seemed to have something to do with the ritual. It was a full hour after Midday, they appeared to be late. Guttural growls and screeches announced the arrival of the Hive. All the Eliksni Sraekt could see tensed up, preparing. The Hive spilled out into the clearing, about thirty to forty, the usual amount for the ritual. They spread out, their chants already echoing off the stone walls of the clearing. A low whine sounded across the clearing, the signal to go. Sraekt leaped down from his vantage point, dregs and vandals following behind. He rocketed down the slope leading to the clearing, his metallic legs taking the brunt of the force for him. [i]One of the benefits of having your legs cut off, huh?[/i] He mused. Sraekt hit the ground with a roll, coming up with his wire rifle shouldered. He squeezed the trigger, and in a flash of arc a bolt went through the chitin armor of the nearest knight’s head. As the Hive fell to the ground, Sraekt had already centered his reticle on a second Knight, this one front and center. The trifecta of green eyes, for a moment, held a semblance of emotion, before yet another bolt crushed them. A third, for an Acolyte who had reacted too quickly for Sraekt’s taste. It fired its void weapon as it fell, the bolts arcing through the sky. Suddenly, from his right, a Thrall leaped into the air, screeching. Sraekt cursed and threw his wire rifle at the Thrall in a moment of surprise. Realizing he had just thrown his gun, he drew a blade of blackened steel, his Crimsteel blade. This blade was hand-crafted, though he only recently got all the resources the Vault blueprint demanded. He dashed forward, gutting the surprised Thrall, who fell dead over Sraekt. He shook the thrall off and stood up warily. Many of the other Eliskni had either finished off the Hive or were in the process of doing so. Noticing one of the Dregs who had accompanied him was being overpowered by a Thrall, he thought quickly and threw the blade, sending it into the center mass of the thrall. It fell dead with a satisfying crunch. The leader of the band, Erehd, blew a horn, a loud, deep sound that would be heard at the LZ. Sraekt sighed, picked up his rifle and his blade, and strode over to stand beside the captain, who was surveying the vandals and dregs as they gathered chitin from the dead. “This went… well,” Sraekt said, rubbing his shoulder.[i] I must’ve torn something. Damn. [/i] “That it has, Sraekt,” Erehd said, not fully paying attention. Sraekt watched as Erehd did, satisfied with the result. Two Eliskni wounded, and one killed by a Knight’s blade. There would be mourning, but such a victory, what with a good thirty Hive slain, would be cause for much celebration. Hopefully, this much chitin would ferry them to the Tangled Shore. Misraaks wants to deal with The Spider, likely in hopes to gain some more supplies. “Do Eliksni have strong drink?” Sraekt asked, pulling on Erehd’s sleeve. “Eh? Of course! And, with you out of your wits, I may even get you to learn how to play Fretyk!” Erehd seemed overly excited at the concept. “And gamble away the little belongings I have left? As if!” “We shall see, friend. We shall see.” A few skiffs uncloaked overhead, the boom of them entering low atmosphere already echoing throughout the industrial canyon. A group of civilian Eliksni, something Sraekt hadn’t seen before joining Misraaks, leaped down from the skiff, helping the soldiers finish gathering the chitin into barrels, and lifting them into the skiffs. A fourth skiff uncloaked, having room for the rest of them. -- Sraekt and a few other Eliksni sat atop the Skiff as it rocketed through Upper Atmosphere, something that Misraaks kept trying to stop, but everyone enjoyed. Skiff-surfing, as it was called, was dangerous, but it was too enjoyable. The wind in his hair, the thrill of holding onto a skiff by a few ropes, and seeing the landscape below whip by was all too fun for even Misraaks to quell. Over his in-ear-comm, the only way to hear anything being exposed to the air at such speeds, Erehd laughed at a bird who flew lazily in front of the skiff. “Not very kind, Erehd.” Sraekt scolded him teasingly. “Fools fly in front of a skiff, Sraekt! It is always a joy to laugh at fools.” He replied in mirth. Sraekt laughed along with him, as did the other Eliksni atop the skiff. [i]It’s funny how these… aliens are so human that I feel more at home with them than in the city.[/i] He thought to himself, glancing back at Erehd, whose four eyes were still creased in laughter. The thrill of the flight likely added to their mirthful behavior, but it was real laughter, nonetheless. Arriving at the ketch, the skiff touched down, and Sraekt hurriedly got down, the others following. They brushed off the dust, smoothed down the fur on their cloaks, and went inside. Misraaks was waiting for them. “Well met, Erehd,” Misraaks rasped, his voice made hard by ether, “Well met, Sraekt. I assume you return in victory?” Misraaks’ four eyes scanned the two of them, as the other Eliksni carefully inched around Misraaks, wary of him somehow noticing they were skiff-surfing. “Well met, Misraakskel. And you know we would not return in such shame! The injured are treated, and we will sing funeral dirges tonight, but only after the song of victory.” Erehd said, also trying to get around Misraaks. Sraekt nodded, opting to keep silent. Misraaks studied Erehd for a moment. “You look quite winded, Erehd.” Everyone froze. Better that they had moved on, but there was no going back. “I fought hard, Misraakskel.” To Erehd’s merit, he did well to hide any nervousness that Sraekt would be feeling. “As you should,” Misraaks started, locking all his eyes on Erehd, “Of course, the stray bird’s feathers in your cloak weren’t from one of my top captains skiff-surfing, correct?” “Never, Misraakskel!” Erehd’s eyes widened in a good imitation of not-feigned surprise, “I must give my band a good example, yes?” Misraaks nodded slowly, then suddenly turned and strode out of the room. Everyone let out a breath simultaneously. “Well, let’s get moving! Resting is in mere minutes, friends!” Erehd said, much too loudly. After picking out the feathers from his cloak, Erehd led the returning group to the large, windowed room. The sky above was dark, and though it had been midday mere hours ago, the winter season in this area of the world was strange. You could almost make out stars above the haze of smog and toxins that blanketed the sky. In the room, large bonfires blazed in red warmth. Already, Eliksni reclined on cushions around the fires, chatting at a low volume. Sometimes, a cheer, or laughter would go up. From what Sraekt had gathered in his time here, this was the Eliksni’s “dinner”, though no food was passed around. Not having eaten since Midday, as every day, Sraekt brought his own food, fished from the mostly clean waters outside the ketch. Poly was already waiting at Sraekt’s usual spot. He sat down, and his ghost hovered beside him, watching his preparation of the fish intently. Sraekt had no idea why Poly did that, but it was nothing new, not anymore. The fires were not cookfires, but they would serve the same purpose, and many Eliksni appreciated the smell of cooking fish. As he cooked his meal, Erehd strolled over and plopped down on a cushion, obviously done trying -and failing- to win something gambling. Misraaks also finished his rounds, he liked to encourage and get to know as many of his crew as he could, and sat down alongside other Eliksni who were a part of the command structure. “Rest well, friends,” Misraaks began, “For we have much to discuss in due time.” The other Eliksni simply nodded. They often prefer body language over speaking when speaking is redundant. A low hum rose around Sraekt’s fire too, and soon everyone was discussing one thing or another. Erehd leaned over to Sraekt as he ate, whispering, “You asked after strong drink? We will be meeting on the morrow, at Sunrise. You may experience our ‘strong drink’ then, friend!” Erehd clapped him on the back heartily, a gesture they usually shared, but since Sraekt was actively eating, he coughed and hacked some fish back into his mouth, barely able to keep it from spilling out.