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body div#devskin0 hr { }

A cold chill blazed through High-Father Asker as he fed a fresh mana clip into his CC-49 Tribune longrifle, letting the weapon hiss as it absorbed the fresh stocks of arcane energy. About him, clustered shoulder-to-shoulder within the armored cabin of the Vandal, the other paladins of Sanction Division readied their weapons. Some mouthed prayers, others just absentmindedly stared, however, idle chatter between the soldiers was nonexistent. Asker momentarily held his breath, listening intently. Outside the vehicle, gunfire rattled and explosions boomed, neither hinting at the possibility of relenting.

The Vandal shook violently, roaring as the drivers viciously hit the gas. Wearily exhaling the air in his lungs, Asker cast a contemplative glance towards his own reflection in the chrome-plated sheen of his helmet. A hardened man of middle age stared back: gunmetal gray hair cut to a high-faded crop, his skin, a matte deepness in black, was wrinkled and scarred, framing an impassive face.

For the High-Father, such physical traits were attributed to a lifetime of war, of decades fighting a relentless foe who, despite best efforts, could not be tamed by conventional military might. The demons, in their unabating evil, had laid waste to the free nations of the world until only a solitary city remained. This city, this last dreg of refuge, had come under siege at last. Three days of ceaseless fighting had whittled the city's defenses down to a token force. The desperate few remaining humans, elves, and dragons alike, bereaved of command, lay scattered, hopeless.

There was hope, however, which, quite literally, lay in Asker's lap. There rested a cylinder container, containing within a small dragon egg ribboned with gold veins. Asker had vowed to protect the future High-King with his life, and even now, during the waning hours of the war, he was determined to keep true to his oath. The High-Father could hear the unborn hatchling within, like a gentle hand brushing the very edges of his mind. With it, he felt reassured and reestablished.

Asker sealed his helmet and thumbed his tactical HUD on. The other paladins followed in suit, powering on their armor which lit up the inside of the Vandal with variegated hues of green, yellow, and blue.

Static hissed across Asker's COMMS. Then suddenly, a distressed cry tore through the channel, scarcely audible over the hailstorm of shouts and gunfire.

*Sanction 1, this is Sanction 5, the demons have breached the Godsway! We can't hold them!*

Asker anchored his team's channel with that of the oncoming signal. "Sanction 5, this is High-Father Asker, tactical retreat, code tango whiskey oscar, is in effect! We are currently en-route to portal extract with High-King Amurnash; E.T.A. fifteen minutes, over!"

*Sanction 1, we won't be able to make it to the portal! The demons are right on top of us--*

A deafening roar, a mangled cry, these were all Asker heard before Sanction 5's signal completely flatlined. The High-Father cursed vehemently under his breath, mouthing a silent prayer for his paladins on the Godsway. The driver's voice blared over the COMM as the Vandal suddenly jerked to a complete stop.

*Sir, the road... it's gone.*

"Gone?" Asker asked in disbelief. "Activate the prompt."

A holographic projection ballooned inside the Vandal, eliciting frustrated murmurs and sharp, exaggerated whistling from the paladins. In front of the vehicle, the entire web of interlocking highways and freeways had collapsed, leaving a smoldering ruin of fire and debris in their wake. The city, which once teemed with the spirit of life, was now nothing but a desolation of rubble and battle. The entire sky was a macabre display of red and black, filled with plumes of fire, smoke, and the dazzling confetti of heated shrapnel. Teams of dragons clashed with demonic Ash Wings in the air, while the city's carcass was consumed by an unspeakable exchange of indiscriminate slaughter.

"Where's the nearest detour to the Administrative Complex?" Asker demanded.

*Through Phoenix Avenue, about ten klicks in the opposite direction. It'll take longer but that's our only option.*

"Exactly how long?"

*Thirty minutes, sir.*

"Roger that."

One of the paladins leaned forward, shaking her helmeted head. "Sir, Phoenix Avenue was hit hard. The demons are swarming that district."

"The demons are swarming every district." Asker responded matter-of-factly. "Bring the convoy around and hard line it to Phoenix Avenue."

*Yes sir.*

The Vandal roared and gritted its teeth as the convoy made a sharp U-turn back down the road. The High-Father linked his COMM to a broadband frequency.

"This is High-Father Asker to all remaining Sanction forces," he announced, "fall back, I repeat, fall back to portal extract. Link up with the Phalanx at the outer concourse and hold it for as long as you can. We are en-route with High-King Amurnash, E.T.A, thirty minutes."

With the convoy en-route to Phoenix Avenue, Asker stowed away the dragon egg, latching the cylinder securely behind his back.

*We have demons inbound!* The driver's voice cut through the cabin, *engaging hostiles!*

Rifles were shouldered, safety switches thumbed to automatic. The High-Father glanced about the Vandal's cabin as the vehicle's rotatory canons began spitting super-heated mana shells at oncoming demons, the helmeted faceplates of his fellow paladins masked determined expressions, they were ready.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

A cold chill blazed through High-Father Asker as he fed a fresh mana clip into his CC-49 Tribune longrifle, letting the weapon hiss as it absorbed the fresh stocks of arcane energy. About him, clustered shoulder-to-shoulder within the armored cabin of the Vandal, the other paladins of Sanction Division readied their weapons. Some mouthed prayers, others just absentmindedly stared, however, idle chatter between the soldiers was nonexistent. Asker momentarily held his breath, listening intently. Outside the vehicle, gunfire rattled and explosions boomed, neither hinting at the possibility of relenting.

The Vandal shook violently, roaring as the drivers viciously hit the gas. Wearily exhaling the air in his lungs, Asker cast a contemplative glance towards his own reflection in the chrome-plated sheen of his helmet. A hardened man of middle age stared back: gunmetal gray hair cut to a high-faded crop, his skin, a matte deepness in black, was wrinkled and scarred, framing an impassive face.

For the High-Father, such physical traits were attributed to a lifetime of war, of decades fighting a relentless foe who, despite best efforts, could not be tamed by conventional military might. The demons, in their unabating evil, had laid waste to the free nations of the world until only a solitary city remained. This city, this last dreg of refuge, had come under siege at last. Three days of ceaseless fighting had whittled the city's defenses down to a token force. The desperate few remaining humans, elves, and dragons alike, bereaved of command, lay scattered, hopeless.

There was hope, however, which, quite literally, lay in Asker's lap. There rested a cylinder container, containing within a small dragon egg ribboned with gold veins. Asker had vowed to protect the future High-King with his life, and even now, during the waning hours of the war, he was determined to keep true to his oath. The High-Father could hear the unborn hatchling within, like a gentle hand brushing the very edges of his mind. With it, he felt reassured and reestablished.

Asker sealed his helmet and thumbed his tactical HUD on. The other paladins followed in suit, powering on their armor which lit up the inside of the Vandal with variegated hues of green, yellow, and blue.

Static hissed across Asker's COMMS. Then suddenly, a distressed cry tore through the channel, scarcely audible over the hailstorm of shouts and gunfire.

*Sanction 1, this is Sanction 5, the demons have breached the Godsway! We can't hold them!*

Asker anchored his team's channel with that of the oncoming signal. "Sanction 5, this is High-Father Asker, tactical retreat, code tango whiskey oscar, is in effect! We are currently en-route to portal extract with High-King Amurnash; E.T.A. fifteen minutes, over!"

*Sanction 1, we won't be able to make it to the portal! The demons are right on top of us--*

A deafening roar, a mangled cry, these were all Asker heard before Sanction 5's signal completely flatlined. The High-Father cursed vehemently under his breath, mouthing a silent prayer for his paladins on the Godsway. The driver's voice blared over the COMM as the Vandal suddenly jerked to a complete stop.

*Sir, the road... it's gone.*

"Gone?" Asker asked in disbelief. "Activate the prompt."

A holographic projection ballooned inside the Vandal, eliciting frustrated murmurs and sharp, exaggerated whistling from the paladins. In front of the vehicle, the entire web of interlocking highways and freeways had collapsed, leaving a smoldering ruin of fire and debris in their wake. The city, which once teemed with the spirit of life, was now nothing but a desolation of rubble and battle. The entire sky was a macabre display of red and black, filled with plumes of fire, smoke, and the dazzling confetti of heated shrapnel. Teams of dragons clashed with demonic Ash Wings in the air, while the city's carcass was consumed by an unspeakable exchange of indiscriminate slaughter.

"Where's the nearest detour to the Administrative Complex?" Asker demanded.

*Through Phoenix Avenue, about ten klicks in the opposite direction. It'll take longer but that's our only option.*

"Exactly how long?"

*Thirty minutes, sir.*

"Roger that."

One of the paladins leaned forward, shaking her helmeted head. "Sir, Phoenix Avenue was hit hard. The demons are swarming that district."

"The demons are swarming every district." Asker responded matter-of-factly. "Bring the convoy around and hard line it to Phoenix Avenue."

*Yes sir.*

The Vandal roared and gritted its teeth as the convoy made a sharp U-turn back down the road. The High-Father linked his COMM to a broadband frequency.

"This is High-Father Asker to all remaining Sanction forces," he announced, "fall back, I repeat, fall back to portal extract. Link up with the Phalanx at the outer concourse and hold it for as long as you can. We are en-route with High-King Amurnash, E.T.A, thirty minutes."

With the convoy en-route to Phoenix Avenue, Asker stowed away the dragon egg, latching the cylinder securely behind his back.

*We have demons inbound!* The driver's voice cut through the cabin, *engaging hostiles!*

Rifles were shouldered, safety switches thumbed to automatic. The High-Father glanced about the Vandal's cabin as the vehicle's rotatory canons began spitting super-heated mana shells at oncoming demons, the helmeted faceplates of his fellow paladins masked determined expressions, they were ready.