48 Hours after the events of "Where Heroes Are Made"...
An utter catastrophe.
That was how the media were describing it - messageboards and the like that hadn't yet been cracked down on by the Lunar intelligence officials, decrying the lack of safety standards, the officials involved... And the DAMON. That topic was, of course, being covered around the clock, given its rather... Pressing urgency.
Even after the hellish tears in the Lunar sky had closed, no small amount of the foul lizards had remained, and the many knights of the realm were reduced to pinballing between hotspots every time the hordes began to close in on a populated section. Sleep was short, tempers were high, fingers pointed in every direction and voices raised in fury. Noble and vassal alike fell before the beasts, and before the bodies were even cold, succession disputes erupted into public view, houses attempting to use the chaos of the moment to skip a knife into a competitor's ribs - or, in some cases, to dispatch black-robed assassins into the dark void, with sealed orders to return with certain heads.
And above it all sat the Palace, eerily silent. Anxious hands wrung and looked for guidance, but found nothing - only damning quiet.
The Queen had slipped away some time after the initial reports of Vynatea's arrival, ashen-faced and somber, to seek the guidance of the Alabaster Lady. Such rituals were commonplace - but communing with the Moon's guardian deity could sometimes take weeks, and the leadership vacuum had never been felt more.
The Kingdom, it seemed, was at the breaking point - besieged on all sides by monstrosities, rudderless and adrift on chaotic seas, living in daily terror that the figure from ZONE battle might yet return to finish what he had started...
James life, as it were, would have been no better or worse than that of his comrades. Around the clock sorties, spending every waking moment fighting an advancing wall of gemstone-encrusted gnashing teeth and claw. With Vynatea's repulsion, the horde had thinned, at the very least affording him some rest - but there were still more than enough of the beasts to go around, and what had begun to the Knights of the Kingdom as an opportunity for glory and trophies had quickly become a fight for their very survival, as unprepared aristocrats were shorn limb from limb by the biomechanical nightmares.
At this particular hour, however, he would have received an emergency communication, barely audible over the sound of roaring battle almost drowning out the speaker:
"This is the Royal Guard! We have an emergency situation! Please, anyone that can assist, Section Theta Four!"
Close inspection of the attached coordinates would reveal it to be not far from the epicenter of the episode - an energy pipeline and processing facility located inbetween the Lunar cities and the ZONE itself, a relatively remote location... Yet, it seemed, one that was important enough for the Royal Guard themselves to be dispatched to protect it. While no DAMON had been sighted in proximity to the area... It didn't seem to make the request any more or less urgent.
An utter catastrophe.
That was how the media were describing it - messageboards and the like that hadn't yet been cracked down on by the Lunar intelligence officials, decrying the lack of safety standards, the officials involved... And the DAMON. That topic was, of course, being covered around the clock, given its rather... Pressing urgency.
Even after the hellish tears in the Lunar sky had closed, no small amount of the foul lizards had remained, and the many knights of the realm were reduced to pinballing between hotspots every time the hordes began to close in on a populated section. Sleep was short, tempers were high, fingers pointed in every direction and voices raised in fury. Noble and vassal alike fell before the beasts, and before the bodies were even cold, succession disputes erupted into public view, houses attempting to use the chaos of the moment to skip a knife into a competitor's ribs - or, in some cases, to dispatch black-robed assassins into the dark void, with sealed orders to return with certain heads.
And above it all sat the Palace, eerily silent. Anxious hands wrung and looked for guidance, but found nothing - only damning quiet.
The Queen had slipped away some time after the initial reports of Vynatea's arrival, ashen-faced and somber, to seek the guidance of the Alabaster Lady. Such rituals were commonplace - but communing with the Moon's guardian deity could sometimes take weeks, and the leadership vacuum had never been felt more.
The Kingdom, it seemed, was at the breaking point - besieged on all sides by monstrosities, rudderless and adrift on chaotic seas, living in daily terror that the figure from ZONE battle might yet return to finish what he had started...
James life, as it were, would have been no better or worse than that of his comrades. Around the clock sorties, spending every waking moment fighting an advancing wall of gemstone-encrusted gnashing teeth and claw. With Vynatea's repulsion, the horde had thinned, at the very least affording him some rest - but there were still more than enough of the beasts to go around, and what had begun to the Knights of the Kingdom as an opportunity for glory and trophies had quickly become a fight for their very survival, as unprepared aristocrats were shorn limb from limb by the biomechanical nightmares.
At this particular hour, however, he would have received an emergency communication, barely audible over the sound of roaring battle almost drowning out the speaker:
"This is the Royal Guard! We have an emergency situation! Please, anyone that can assist, Section Theta Four!"