72 Hours after the events of "Where Heroes Are Made"
Southern Lunar Settlements
6:18 AM SDT
"Scatter!"
A series of emerald flashes, almost faster than the eye could follow - and a spray of biomechanical blood filled the void.
The advancing clump of Bull DAMON froze for a brief moment, their forms now riddled with holes where they didn't ordinarily belong, before the color faded from the crystals embedded in their flanks, and they were dragged violently back across the event horizon, vanishing without a trace. Such was the nature of these strange beasts that they didn't even leave a corpse behind - in many ways, it was convenient.
For others... It meant that collecting a trophy was that much more difficult.
Overhead, framed against the distant Earth, five gleaming emerald green components assembled themselves back into the form of a broadsword, before slamming home into the Lunar soil, sending cracks in all directions. A pair of a crimson hands reached out, resting on the weapon's hilt, the Orgone coating now receding from its surface in a cloud of verdant vapor as the Commander-type Raftclanz admired its handiwork.
"Well done, milord!"
With a spray of particulate, a second Knight-Machine, then a third and forth arrived, each one pulsing from nothingness, carried forward fractional steps in space by their Orgone Clouds. No special-issue variants were these, but they bore the red shoulders of House Ashford. In response, the Commander-type simply raised a hand wearily, as if unworthy of their praise.
"How is the prototype? Does it meet your expectations?"
One hand gripped the sword's handle, hefting it from the soil to examine its blade. At first glance, it appeared flawless - but closer inspection revealed a crack running along one of its components, causing its owner to give a grunt of dissatisfaction. The hide of the beasts was tougher than anticipated... Whatever dread realm they issued forth from must have been punishing indeed to breed such things, he thought mildly.
"Still needs some adjustments." - The Prototype Viper Sword was slung over the Raftclanz' shoulder as it turned to face its fellows.
It craned its neck up at the vast structure overshadowing all in its wake - a glistening drop visible even from Lunar Orbit, one of the crown jewels of mankind's journey into space:
"Continue the cleanup operation in my absence." Said Ashford, giving a nod to the closest of his companions.
"There's a matter that requires my attention."
So it was that Bisen Foris, as the DAMON cleanup operation began to wind down, found itself summoned to the heart of Luna's Aristocratic class, the Moon Cradle. Few had ever been called inside its daunting walls to the idyllic plains within, and its residents were considered the cream of the crop, exclusive even by Lunarian standards. It was initially designed as a superstructure intended to weather even an apocalyptic scenario, a sister to the terrestrial Earth Cradle located on the blue planet that appeared overhead in the Lunar sky - albeit one that had yet to be integrated with the questionable "Machine Cells" of its twin, and were it not fir its tight-lipped policies of secrecy, could well have been considered a national symbol in and of itself.
In time, this structure had instead incorporated all of the latest and greatest cutting edge innovations in EOT, and housed the finest minds and deepest pockets of Luna, consolidating about itself political influence that was secondary only to the Lunar Palace itself - and in some ways, it was whispered, even greater.
The letter was signed "Lord Ashford", and invited them to "Cordially discuss the future of Bisen Foris as it pertains to the sudden departure of the Knight of Knights..."
The only question that remained was... Would they answer it?
Southern Lunar Settlements
6:18 AM SDT
"Scatter!"
A series of emerald flashes, almost faster than the eye could follow - and a spray of biomechanical blood filled the void.
The advancing clump of Bull DAMON froze for a brief moment, their forms now riddled with holes where they didn't ordinarily belong, before the color faded from the crystals embedded in their flanks, and they were dragged violently back across the event horizon, vanishing without a trace. Such was the nature of these strange beasts that they didn't even leave a corpse behind - in many ways, it was convenient.
For others... It meant that collecting a trophy was that much more difficult.
Overhead, framed against the distant Earth, five gleaming emerald green components assembled themselves back into the form of a broadsword, before slamming home into the Lunar soil, sending cracks in all directions. A pair of a crimson hands reached out, resting on the weapon's hilt, the Orgone coating now receding from its surface in a cloud of verdant vapor as the Commander-type Raftclanz admired its handiwork.
"Well done, milord!"
With a spray of particulate, a second Knight-Machine, then a third and forth arrived, each one pulsing from nothingness, carried forward fractional steps in space by their Orgone Clouds. No special-issue variants were these, but they bore the red shoulders of House Ashford. In response, the Commander-type simply raised a hand wearily, as if unworthy of their praise.
"How is the prototype? Does it meet your expectations?"
One hand gripped the sword's handle, hefting it from the soil to examine its blade. At first glance, it appeared flawless - but closer inspection revealed a crack running along one of its components, causing its owner to give a grunt of dissatisfaction. The hide of the beasts was tougher than anticipated... Whatever dread realm they issued forth from must have been punishing indeed to breed such things, he thought mildly.
"Still needs some adjustments." - The Prototype Viper Sword was slung over the Raftclanz' shoulder as it turned to face its fellows.
It craned its neck up at the vast structure overshadowing all in its wake - a glistening drop visible even from Lunar Orbit, one of the crown jewels of mankind's journey into space:
The Moon Cradle.
"Continue the cleanup operation in my absence." Said Ashford, giving a nod to the closest of his companions.
"There's a matter that requires my attention."
So it was that Bisen Foris, as the DAMON cleanup operation began to wind down, found itself summoned to the heart of Luna's Aristocratic class, the Moon Cradle. Few had ever been called inside its daunting walls to the idyllic plains within, and its residents were considered the cream of the crop, exclusive even by Lunarian standards. It was initially designed as a superstructure intended to weather even an apocalyptic scenario, a sister to the terrestrial Earth Cradle located on the blue planet that appeared overhead in the Lunar sky - albeit one that had yet to be integrated with the questionable "Machine Cells" of its twin, and were it not fir its tight-lipped policies of secrecy, could well have been considered a national symbol in and of itself.
In time, this structure had instead incorporated all of the latest and greatest cutting edge innovations in EOT, and housed the finest minds and deepest pockets of Luna, consolidating about itself political influence that was secondary only to the Lunar Palace itself - and in some ways, it was whispered, even greater.
The letter was signed "Lord Ashford", and invited them to "Cordially discuss the future of Bisen Foris as it pertains to the sudden departure of the Knight of Knights..."
The only question that remained was... Would they answer it?