Search Results
8/6/2025, 7:48:13 PM
You answer the Gnok with a resolute nod. It’ll have to. The response earns a long, hard stare, followed by a laugh!
“Ha! I like you, crazy, big-eyed bastard!” Clasping his claw on your armored shoulder, he gives it a firm shake. “Aizee, by the way. Reckon we oughta’ know each other before we charge off to our deaths.”
Tuz, you respond, slapping your breastplate in a salute, and if this works, no one else is gonna die. Returning your salute, Aizee turns to his men and ushers them forward. “C’mon, men–we’re gonna make things nice and loud for our Mox mates here!” Being the first to mount the edge of the trench, he glances down at you as the rest of his soldiers follow suit.
“Listen for the whistle, Brother Tuz, and move fast when you do–Mox aren’t known for their speed.”
“Aye, we’re known for blowing things ta’ smithereens.” Snickers Modd from behind you. “Shall we?”
We shall.
Doubling back costs you precious time, but what choice do you have? The giants Zaan noticed before are now well past your outer defenses–sniper blasts whizzing through their bodies like a claw trying to catch a sunbeam.
You make it to the foot of the hill when you hear it–a shrill, grating whistle rising above the trenches followed by the report of several magical blasts.
“Don’t think about them,” Zaan warns as your gaze drifts down to the trenches, “Just move.”
Sound advice. Scrambling along the hill takes energy you didn’t know you still had: each step along the slope threatening to send you tumbling down to the trenches. Each footfall nearly buckling beneath your heavy boots.
Whatever Aizee and his men are doing, it works–a few Chytree Soldier Constructs march by, each squad moving in perfect lockstep with their three eyes glowing like grim lanterns in the mist.
You tug your helmet tighter as you continue on.
“Breathe easy…” Grunts Modd as he follows the same target you do, “Armor’s rated ta’ muffle magic, remember?”
You do, but it doesn’t make you feel any safer. You know all too well what one Construct can do to a fully-plated soldier. Horrible things can sling spell and sword as long as their creators have energy to share… theirs was probably spread out in a recliner somewhere far, far ahead being fanned by a servant and sipping a warm drink.
One bomb isn’t nearly enough for those big-eyed fops.
>CONTD.
“Ha! I like you, crazy, big-eyed bastard!” Clasping his claw on your armored shoulder, he gives it a firm shake. “Aizee, by the way. Reckon we oughta’ know each other before we charge off to our deaths.”
Tuz, you respond, slapping your breastplate in a salute, and if this works, no one else is gonna die. Returning your salute, Aizee turns to his men and ushers them forward. “C’mon, men–we’re gonna make things nice and loud for our Mox mates here!” Being the first to mount the edge of the trench, he glances down at you as the rest of his soldiers follow suit.
“Listen for the whistle, Brother Tuz, and move fast when you do–Mox aren’t known for their speed.”
“Aye, we’re known for blowing things ta’ smithereens.” Snickers Modd from behind you. “Shall we?”
We shall.
Doubling back costs you precious time, but what choice do you have? The giants Zaan noticed before are now well past your outer defenses–sniper blasts whizzing through their bodies like a claw trying to catch a sunbeam.
You make it to the foot of the hill when you hear it–a shrill, grating whistle rising above the trenches followed by the report of several magical blasts.
“Don’t think about them,” Zaan warns as your gaze drifts down to the trenches, “Just move.”
Sound advice. Scrambling along the hill takes energy you didn’t know you still had: each step along the slope threatening to send you tumbling down to the trenches. Each footfall nearly buckling beneath your heavy boots.
Whatever Aizee and his men are doing, it works–a few Chytree Soldier Constructs march by, each squad moving in perfect lockstep with their three eyes glowing like grim lanterns in the mist.
You tug your helmet tighter as you continue on.
“Breathe easy…” Grunts Modd as he follows the same target you do, “Armor’s rated ta’ muffle magic, remember?”
You do, but it doesn’t make you feel any safer. You know all too well what one Construct can do to a fully-plated soldier. Horrible things can sling spell and sword as long as their creators have energy to share… theirs was probably spread out in a recliner somewhere far, far ahead being fanned by a servant and sipping a warm drink.
One bomb isn’t nearly enough for those big-eyed fops.
>CONTD.
Page 1