He's been left to die on an inhospitable world, surrounded by criminals and enemy forces. Enough is enough, and Walters doesn't care who knows it.
miércoles, 4 de mayo de 2011
El Juego - The Game Sudden Dearth Book IV
I think that it's about time we publish a little bit of the forthcoming Book IV. Youve all been patient...
Deep Space Graveyard Of Ships Unknown Location
Debris; a fallow field of broken dreams and evil thoughts. Viker studied what remained of his fleet and ignored the tears which rolled down his face. Brilliant feathers ruffled, an involuntary reflex half way between loss and rage. As each of the data streams blipped their end, his eyes grew colder, darker. He had lost many of his people here, to the demon-blessed construct. They had fought well, yet died too easily as beams of stupendous energy melted their hopes and dreams.
“Were we too late?” asked Johns, moving to stand next to his Lord, his Battle Amour shining with its newness.
“We left them here. It was over almost as soon as it began.”
“You were not to blame...”
“Ah, but I was,” disagreed Viker, “too eager in my new found power, but that has changed. What success have our people had?”
“Good, My Lord,” replied Johns, “although truth be told, it’s not a hard trail to follow.”
“Distress signals, radiation signatures and the ever-present debris make a unique trail of bread crumbs,” said Johns.
“Good. Order the fleet to jump with us. We will follow and pick up the pieces. I have no doubt we will find allies on our travel.”
“If,” muttered Johns, “the b*****d left anything alive...”
“It did,” said Viker, “I can taste their hate and thirst for revenge. We can use that.”
Asmode's Lair Spindle
Beelzebub squirmed within the confines of his throne; Asmode’s old accommodation was not to his taste, either in decoration or dimension. It had taken time to make his way here, many feeds were required to fuel his still bloated body. Followers had given their existence to ensure his survival and now he gathered them around him; deformed and mis-shapen, they were the residues of Asmode’s experiments. He was not concerned over their lack of beauty. What frustrated his ambition was their inability to provide him with an exit from this accursed planet. Their only service was in his alimentation.
“My Lord,” the wheezing voice already annoyed the demon and the face in front of him, did little to ameliorate the situation, “we have birthed more of our brothers and have made a discovery.”
“There is a ship...”
“...approaching the planet. We have recognised the signs.”
For the first time in a long while, Beelzebub smiled. This could be his chance.
“Our people must hide, until we know the identity of our visitors. We must be prepared to fight if necessary.”
His minion bowed and left, leaving the demon alone to think, and scheme.
Deep Space Arshavin’s Construct
Life was good. The promise of death and destruction that the demon foresaw had been fulfilled. World after world had been scraped raw; beings stripped of love and existence. He had sucked them dry, using them as fuel in his quest. Followers had begun to drift after him, their slow progress mirroring his own. They meant nothing to him, but could prove useful. He had even allowed a small contingent to land and occupy carefully constructed outbuildings. A bloody altar adorned the central temple and it pleased him to let them hold false hope of deliverance. Everything in its own time. He had captured the trail of his enemies and was now almost ready for them. One more world...just one more...
Kermadec Island Macaulay Disputed Zone
An Angel had come to earth and the people fell to their knees in adoration. He floated softly amidst a curtain of light, voices thrummed in counterpoint, their harshness only adding to the purity of their new God.
Dark shapes, hard lined and with rigid wings soared into the Central Plaza, moving the new faithful aside with the backwash of their Holy Fire. Johns grinned as the populace sprinted for cover, but he and his men were only the vanguard to their Lord. It was time. He flipped free a flare and fired it skyward, the red, yellow and gold flames blossoming into a fountain of colour and from within which sailed Viker. With an imperious back beat of his wings he settled to the tiled area at the centre of the Plaza.
“My Children,” his voice boomed out, “come to me...and be saved”
Asmode's Lair Spindle
The city had been raised to the ground yet the tunnels and laboratories remained, hidden below a nightmarish landscape. A pathetic excuse for a spaceship rattled to earth, its squabbling crew undecided about the salvage they would find. Their brothers above merely awaited the all-clear before they would begin to cleanse the area, ready for recovery of any valuables. Their Lord had been very clear. They had only two hours before he himself would purify this world, turning it into yet another of his burnt offerings.
Beelzebub watched them, a cruel smile on his face.
“Now,” he said, as the landing ramp crashed to the ground and a rag-tag army poured forth, “keep the prettier ones for my pleasure.”
Barely enough time passed for the first casualties to be reported when the Demon knew he had made a potentially fatal mistake. A beam of plasma burned its way through the atmosphere and incinerated friend and foe alike.
“Hello, Brother,” the voice smashed into his mind, tearing his defences apart, “I knew that something good would come of this...”