Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 7
Carnage

Ork outpost – designation epsilon 6
Geolocation ping 1.338072.21159

Spotlights cut through the darkness of the night from a pair of sentry towers, illuminating the corpse pile heaped outside the scrap-built walls of the base. Over a hundred Orks lay dead, riddled with various battle wounds, often dismembered, and already stripped of their former belongings. A constant line of Gretchen dragged even more bodies from the front gate of the palisade to the hill made of green, bloodied flesh, laboring with the intensity of slaves very recently and thoroughly terrorized. There were many boyz and Nobs among the fallen, and even a Warboss who had been mauled in an especially brutal fashion. A few defunct Killa Kans sat nearby, their front armor shredded and their cockpits pulped, but set apart from the dead to be recycled or repaired later.

Inside the palisade, dozens of bonfires lit the camp as a victorious warband celebrated its victory. Banners were torn down and bloodstained loot was sorted. Weapon, armor, teeth, bionik parts, and other recently liberated possessions were handed out or fought over. Many of the fires also cooked wooden spits that had been placed nearby, upon which were speared various Ork limbs that had been taken from the dead to feed the survivors.

Atop a stone crag overlooking the camp, a single bat pony mare slowly scanned the camp perimeter, a wing tip held to the side of a bulky night-vision visor. The device whirred quietly, its lenses extending and receding as necessary to focus. It zoomed in on a particularly large Ork, and then the green light of its optics pulsed softly, taking pict-captures for later review.

Then the mare kicked off the crag, flying away and swooping down behind a stone plateau further away from the camp. Waiting there was a group of other bat ponies, with Empyra sitting on her haunches at the front. Isabelle Bane was standing next to her, her face mostly hidden by a curtain of her oil-black mane, and behind her Beryl Blaster stood in full armor with an echo cannon slung across her back. A handful of other mares waited in an orderly row, their bodies loaded down with wargear: armor and blades and some guns, as well as numerous signum beacons.

“Took you long enough! What did you see, Butter Sly?” the Queen thestral demanded, her excitement palpable.

“The base is weakened. Many greenskins are dead. It seems there was a battle here yesterday,” the scout answered, her voice a gentle hiss.

“Oh? Who was the other side?” Empyra asked.

“Other Orks. It looks like one warband attacked and seized another’s camp. The victorious xenos are clearly settling in to the place while they divide up the spoils and dispose of the dead.” Butter’s snout wrinkled. “Part of the disposal appears to be butchering the defeated Orks and cooking them.”

“They’re cannibals too? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Beryl sniffed.

“Of course they eat their fallen,” Empyra chuckled, “they’re not sentimental creatures, and meat is meat.” Her long tongue snaked out of her mouth, running over the razor edges of her teeth.

“Unsanitary,” Isabelle mumbled, looking away.

“Don’t be such a foal. You’re not the type to be squeamish about death and making good use of fresh corpses,” the larger mare sniffed.

“On that topic,” Butter Sly interjected, “most of their dead are heaped in a pile several meters from the outer wall on the East side. That’s where there’s the most activity, as the little ones are still hauling the bodies and other garbage.”

“Oh? A corpse pile?” Empyra stared at Isabelle, grinning maliciously. “Little Bell, do you think you could do something useful with that?”

Isabelle Bane tilted her head to one side so that her hair parted over her eye to look at Empyra. Then she nodded. “I need… some time. And…” she stopped to think. “…… Fragmentation grenades.”

“Spicy!” Empyra poked a wing toward another bat pony at random. “Get as many grenades as you can over here. Go!”

The mare snapped her wing up in salute and then darted away into the darkness, a gentle, high-pitched noise ringing from her throat to guide her path without making too much noise. Butter Sly frowned, staring at Isabelle, and then shifted the scouting goggles up onto her forehead.

“My Queen, how will we do this? As I said, the corpse pile is seeing the most activity right now. Are we to wait until the victors fall asleep?”

“No, that could take all night,” Empyra sniffed. “Give me that ‘vox’ thing so I can speak to the apes with the big guns. The hunters will sneak up to the perimeter and place the beacons on the walls, all around the camp. Activate them and withdraw. Once the fort is being smashed with artillery, the alert won’t matter.” She turned her head over her shoulder. “Beryl, have our guns surround the base and hold vigil. Kill anything that attempts to flee past the walls.”

Most of the mares bowed and darted away into the darkness. Beryl Blaster nodded and then launched into the air to complete her own task. Butter winced, her ears pinning back.

“Can we trust the humans to be that… accurate?” she mumbled, approaching the larger thestral. “We’re not as far from this camp as we were from that convoy.” She glanced up at the moon and squinted, as if expecting to see munitions streaking past it any second.

“Don’t be such a coward. This is war, not an undercavern skirmish or bug hunt,” Empyra cackled. “Now push the buttons and give me the headset.”

Butter gave a final reluctant sigh and tapped her wing tip against the disc-shaped armaplas device on her ear. After a few seconds she found the right frequency, and then her wing hooked around the headset to pull it off and hand it to her superior.

Empyra snatched it up with her own wing and held it up to her snout. “Humans! Can you hear me? Is this device working?”

There was some static and thumping that came from the headset, and Empyra’s ears twitched in annoyance. Butter Sly carefully reached over and turned the vox receiver around so that it was pointing at her Queen, which would make further communication easier.

“This is… This is Beta Point fire control. Ugh. What is it now?” The voice on the other end had clearly been woken from his sleep, and was struggling to speak around a deep yawn.

“Good evening, ape! I have sent my warriors to surround an Ork base with artillery beacons. You are to annihilate all the space between them with your weapons so we may slay the survivors. Is this clear?”

There was a long pause. “… Aren’t you on a recon mission? This is the third artillery strike your battle group has requested.”

“I find reconnaissance is easier and more helpful when we can simply report that the foe is dead,” Empyra snarled. “Are you going to fire or not?”

A groan came from the other end, followed by the sound of several clicks and the hum of machinery starting up. “Copy that, Artema cogitators engaged and ready to lock on to your designator signum. I’ll get the lads up and the tubes loaded. What spread pattern do you want?”

“Big,” Empyra decided firmly.

“… We did a lot of training with your mares, there has to be SOMEONE there who’s read the karking tacticae primer.”

“Stop WHINING and start SHELLING. We’ll contact you again to tell you when to stop.” Empyra growled and tossed the headset back to Butter, who carefully caught it with her bright blue wings. “Bring the rest of the cauldron. The assault begins with the thunder of the apes’ guns, but it will end with fresh blood on our hooves and more meat for tomorrow evening.”

Butter Sly bowed and galloped away, quickly taking flight and vanishing into the gloom. Empyra took a deep breath of the cold, dry air, her crimson eyes lingering on the half moon looming overhead. Her coat bristled, and she felt saliva pooling in her jaws at the prospect of imminent bloodshed.

Isabelle shuddered.

“What’s the matter, witch? We stand on the cusp of another great victory and you look like a beaten puppy,” Empyra approached and loomed over the unicorn, red eyes gleaming and ropes of drool slowly spilling between razor-edged teeth. “Are you not pleased to be serving the Lords of Chaos? Do you not desire to wield your powers against the alien filth that’s infested our homeworld?”

Isabelle cringed away, her eyes searching the ground. “I… do want to. Yes.”

Empyra’s wing touched her chin and pulled her head up, forcing the Moon Mage to stare into the eyes of the Queen of the Bloodborne.

“Are you afraid of me?” Empyra asked, grinning.

Isabelle hesitantly nodded.

“Good.” The larger mare released the unicorn, chuckling. “You should be. But I expect you to face the greenskins with more nerve. Prepare your wretched magics, my little Bell. The killing begins at last!”

Badlands
ERROR: Pathing augur malfuction detected… Geolocation failure

“I still can’t believe you blew up my echo cannon,” Nacht seethed.

“I told you how to turn it off! You don’t know where the primary power toggle is?” Gear Works protested.

“Of course I know that, idiot! I just didn’t really pick that up when it was listed after all that nonsense about… resonance and… high or low… stuff.”

“Far be it from me to tell the soldiers how to do their job, but I do wish you all had greater technical proficiency with your wargear.”

Nacht let out a feral growl and jumped up, flying over Gears in preparation to pounce and bite him.

“Nacht, cool it,” Dusk Blade said firmly. “I know you’re mad but it’s not Gear’s fault.”

“It’s a little his fault!” Nacht retorted, still hovering over the cyborg pony.

“No, it wasn’t. He made a plan and it worked. You didn’t follow through and now your weapon is destroyed. Leave him alone,” the Lieutenant ordered, his amber eyes narrowing.

Nacht fumed visibly, and her muzzle scrunched up while she glared at the Dark Acolyte. Her armor was a complete shambles, with several plates missing and the remainder cracked and filthy. Blood had stained her hair, tail, and wings, adding a bit more terrible color to her solid black coat. Her mask and visor were gone, both of them crushed by a golem’s foot and abandoned.

The group trudging through the badlands at night was otherwise in good condition. Neuron Dialect walked apart from the others, her ears pivoting frequently to detect possible threats. Gloom Fang and Penumbra Shard walked near the rear of the group, while Dusk and Gear Works were at the front.

“While I sympathize deeply at the loss of your weapon, you seem agitated about more than that,” Gears noted.

“Of course I am!” Nacht growled. “Do you think it’s FUN getting blown up, electrocuted, and stomped by a huge stone monster?! It fanging sucks!”

“Well, no, I don’t think it’s fun. Not at all,” Gears mumbled. “It’s unclear how much effect that really had on you, though.”

“It affected me PLENTY, tin-for-brains!” the diminutive mare shouted. “I may be unkillable or whatever when I’m like that, but it doesn’t dull ANYTHING! I felt every single thing they did to me! I ache everywhere!”

Gears glanced over to Dusk. “Is she really unkillable?”

The Lieutenant snorted. “How would we know? We don’t really get to experiment with her power the way we can with the rest of us. Mostly because she can and will kill us in that state, but also because she throws a fit just like this every time it happens so studying it is just a huge hassle.”

“Although it actually did look kinda fun taking those golems apart like that with your bare hooves,” Gloom Fang chuckled.

“Well, I hate it, okay?! I hate pain! I don’t care if it makes me stronger!” Nacht seethed, whirling around in the air to face the purple stallion. “I hate the sensation of spiraling out of control! I hate what it does to my senses! I hate that I can’t think straight or recognize any of you!” She started blinking away tears, although between the darkness and her night-black coat even Penumbra’s magic vision struggled to make them out. “And now… And now the stupid pony cyborg and even those idiots in the Striders know about it,” she let out a sob and rubbed her eyes with her front hooves.

“Oh, Nacht, I’m so sorry,” Penumbra cooed, trotting up faster and beckoning to the thestral mare. “Come here, darling.”

Nacht dove into a hug with the Moon Mage, sniffling pathetically as she buried her face into Penumbra’s chest. The unicorn stroked her head tenderly, and then wrapped her in a deep hug. Gear Works felt his circulatory engine stutter at the display of tenderness and vulnerability between the two most hostile and unpleasant mares in their task force, but the other bat ponies weren’t so easily moved.

“When you’re done sobbing like a filly, catch up with us,” Dusk said, not slowing his walk. “I’ll give you my splinter rifle so you have something to shoot with, since being as useful as you were back in the ravine is too inconvenient.”

Nacht winced. Penumbra couldn’t help but smile at the Lieutenant’s coldness, but she gave the smaller mare a comforting pat on the back as they separated, and then a gentle peck on the white star tattooed to Nacht’s forehead. Then the mares headed forward again, although Nacht’s pace was sluggish.

“Don’t be too hard on the poor dear. Her power is untamed, and its potential unknown,” the Moon Mage mused.

“Then one of you should DO SOMETHING about it,” Dusk growled. “Have you ever thought about what we’re going to do with these powers now that the Nightmare is gone? It’s not like we can just spit up the magic fruit. We’re going to be like this for the rest of our lives.”

“However long that is,” Neuron interjected. “Although for Nacht it’s probably longer than the rest of us.”

“The Company is going to find out about us sooner or later. They’ve been studying me for a while and I know they’ve had their eyes on Neuro too. They think Gloomy’s eyes are just a mutation, but I’m pretty sure they’ve noticed he sometime breaks off from the unit and then an entire Ork mob is found dead an hour later.”

Gloom Fang furrowed his brow. “Wait, how would they know about the Eyes of Malice?”

“You go through regular medical scans, Gloomy.”

“Yeah, but I always close the Malice eyes for those, so they can’t tell.”

Dusk stared at him silently through the darkness for a few seconds, and then sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, okay. The upshot here is that the Iron Warriors are going to know about our powers sooner rather than later, and we should probably have a plan for that. All Striders have active vid-recorders with low-light filters, so soon they’ll have clear footage of Nacht decking a war golem and they’re going to have some questions.”

Nacht cringed, her ears pinned back and her head hanging down while she trudged along. Penumbra clicked her tongue, a rather severe expression crossing her face. In the heat of the moment, it had not occurred to the Moon Mage to disable ALL the Striders they were making contact with, and she wasn’t sure she could have gotten away with such a thing.

“Be careful what you tell them,” the Moon Mage warned. “It may be that you cannot hide your power from the humans any longer, but they’re quite familiar with such things. Strange magic, mutations, and unnatural techniques are not rare among the scions of Chaos.” She glowered at Gear Works. “However, if they were to learn these powers were manufactured by exploiting and researching the natural magics of this world, we can all look forward to a thorough interrogation, at the very least.”

“You sound nervous,” Dusk Blade observed blithely.

“You should be too,” Penumbra hissed, her eyes gleaming turquoise in the darkness. “If they know the Moon Mages created such a weapon, I don’t expect they’ll believe me when I tell the story of how that knowledge was lost. But when they ultimately fail to get it out of me, they’ll try to get it out of YOU.”

Gloom Fang arched an eyebrow. “But… we don’t know much about how the Elements were created. We just ate them.”

“Yeah. So how do you think they’re going to look for that information once it’s clear we’re not being helpful?” Dusk asked the other stallion dryly.

Gloom looked confused for a few seconds, and then all four of his eyes widened in realization, accidentally pushing his mask off. “OH. Oh, no. Okay, good point, I getcha.”

The distant crash of artillery suddenly echoed through the night.

“What the hay is that?” Gloom Fang asked in alarm, suddenly standing ramrod straight with his wings spread.

Neuron Dialect’s ears twitched. “Earthshaker impacts. Ours.” She paused as several more booming noises cut through the darkness. “We’re bombarding someone.”

“Guano! That’s where the base is that we’re looking for, isn’t it?!” Dusk cursed, speeding up. “What’s going on? Who called in an artillery strike?”

“Sounds like a LOT of them, too,” Nacht remarked. The detonations had stopped briefly only to pick up again with even more impacts.

“All the Lunar Guard recon teams were equipped with artillery signum transponders if I recall the mission strategis correctly,” Gear Works added. “Dagger Squadron presumably got some too, probably taken by the half of your unit that is fulfilling the actual mission.”

“Come on, double time! We need to get to that drill rig before it’s wrecked!” Dusk commanded. “Let’s go!”

Ork outpost – designation epsilon 6
Geolocation ping 1.338072.21159

The battle began, as so many did, with a mysterious whistle and then an ear-shattering explosion.

The Orks were taken completely by surprise, many of them eating, marveling at new loot, or already sleeping when the first shell landed and flattened a bonfire. The roaring fire and haphazard stack of wood was flattened in an instant, and the shock wave promptly pulverized or knocked over a dozen Orks besides. Bits of flaming wood were hurled across the camp, and a geyser of dirt and ash leapt into the starlit sky before receding back to the ground.

A moment of stunned silence hung over the base as the noise of the detonation receded.

And then, all at once, a raucous roar came from the alien raiders.

A whistling sound from above heralded the arrival of more earthshaker artillery, but the Orks all but ignored them even as the next string of explosions crushed an entire mob that had been collecting their weapons. The greenskins were surprised and no orders had been given, but every boy instinctively knew what to do in this situation. They took up their guns, grabbed whatever ammunition was at hand, and then dashed eagerly over the smoking craters and shredded remains of their comrades.

A new fight had arrived.

“Oi, weh’s da sen-treez?! Dey’z nappin’?!”

“Down da rohd! Get da Trukks, ya dumm gitz!”

“Sumwun git sum lite ‘rown heah! I can’t see nuffin’!”

Another cluster of shells slammed into the camp, annihilating another mob of greenskins and demolishing a larger building near the palisade edge. One of the shells landed close enough to the wall to blast a hole in it, and the flash from the explosion briefly illuminated an equine shape galloping away through some desiccated trees. A few seconds later Orks started running through the smoke, flooding through the break in the palisade. Many fired blindly into the darkness, trying to flush out the scouts that had evidently marked their camp for bombardment. Others simply sprinted toward the rock outcroppings that surrounded the base, trying to escape the artillery barrage and hoping they might spy an enemy along the way.

A sharp and rising whine came from the shadows, and several magenta and green lights pulsed.

The Orks were immediately hammered by several echo cannons at once, the air seeming to simply explode around them. Those who weren’t pulverized were knocked to the ground, dazed, with their eyes watering and ears bleeding. Still the greenskins surged forward toward the enemy, some on hands and knees.

One of them glimpsed the illuminated machinery of an echo cannon under a rock spire and pulled himself to his feet. The warrior howled a war cry and charged, his slugga pistol bucking wildly in his hand as he fired in the general direction of the glow. He could barely hear a thing over the ringing in his ears and the next barrage of artillery landing on the camp, but still the mere energy of war electrified him and granted strength to bruised muscles and fractured bone.

A large shadow suddenly soared overhead, crossing the face of the moon. The Ork hesitated for a moment, craning his neck up to look, and then promptly received a hoof to his face that threw him to the ground.

Empyra landed atop the alien and promptly bit its throat out. Blood splashed across her legs and chest and oozed down her neck, and she swallowed the wad of raw, waxy meat with a sadistic grin.

“You want battle, barbarians? You want war? Here it is! Have your fill!!” the bat pony crowed.

Dozens more Orks met her declaration with a defiant roar, scrambling over the bodies of their dead and firing their sluggas at the unusually large equine. Empyra reared up with a horrifying shriek, a battle cry that – much like her challenge – was mostly lost among the deafened aliens. A few slugga rounds connected, punching through thickened muscle or tearing holes in the skin of her wings. The heavy-caliber munitions staggered the mare well enough that the first boy to reach her sunk his choppa into her shoulder without great difficulty, and then he clubbed her over the head with his sidearm.

Empyra struck the Ork with a wing, and then bit into his arm, dragging him to the ground. Her hoofblades sliced into him and she started to tear the warrior apart, but two more reached her and attacked her in the back. Their choppas hacked into the thestral while she killed her first target; one struck the strange, ragged cape and bounced off harmlessly, but the other struck near the joint of her wing and cleaved it off entirely.

Empyra punched her claws into the Ork beneath her and ripped off his arm with a pained grunt. Then she whipped around, slapping one of the other attackers with the dismembered limb. Another Ork slammed his choppa into her flank, and then another attacker jumped onto her back.

Choppas rose and fell, sluggas thundered at point-blank range, and blood splashed across the ground. The Orks laughed, hooted, and howled as they piled onto the pony, but as she threw them off and stabbed another warrior they couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to be growing. Cuts shrank and closed, bullet holes filled up with blood and then new flesh, and a new wing had already sprouted from the stump of the last one and was getting bigger. The mare too was getting larger more generally, and her swipes and kicks started tearing Orks apart with every impact rather than merely staggering them. Bony spikes emerged from the back of her neck and along her spine, and her teeth – already quite large and viciously sharp – lengthened unevenly, making her jaws look like rows of uneven blades.

But more importantly, the pony simply wasn’t dying.

Empyra bucked a Nob in the head, breaking his iron gorget and the similarly hard bone underneath. She cut down a boy with the claw of her wing, and then smashed her forehead into the nose of another. This last strike was by far the least effective, barely pushing the alien back, but it gave Empyra enough room to leap upward and hover above the mob.

Her body was riddled with bullets and cuts, her coat matted with blood, and her crimson eyes quivered and resized constantly with a series of insane twitches. Despite her inexplicable regeneration the damage still hindered her, and her vision swam as her pulse thundered in her ears and her wing muscles strained. She filled her lungs and then released a shrill, high-pitched shriek through the bloody haze that clouded her senses.

The echo cannons fired again, and ten devastating sonic waves converged and crashed into the greenskin horde in a crescendo that fully swallowed the noise of the artillery barrage. Orks were sent hurtling through the air or collapsed into twitching heaps. Even those who kept their footing were knocked completely senseless, unable to hear or see and barely able to breathe over the ringing in their skulls and the tremors in their bones.

Empyra was hardly unaffected by the blast at such proximity, but as he ear drums collapsed and her eyes threatened to burst she turned to her other senses. With a brief sniff she fixed on the location of the largest, hardiest greenskin below her, and new strength surged into her ragged, blood-stained wings. She dove directly onto a dazed Nob, punching her hoofblades into his chest and hurling him to the ground.

Instinct served the Nob well enough to punch back as he was pinned, and he seized Empyra’s leg with his power klaw. The machinery hissed and the klaw blades closed, burning through corded muscle and splintering the bone beneath. Arcs of electricity lashed over the talons, boiling away the blood gushing from the wound.

Empyra’s maw opened, stretching like a snake’s, and then closed on the Ork’s head and crushed it like a soda can. With a brief twisted of her neck the greenskin was decapitated, and his klaw fell to the ground limp. The thestral kicked away a stray warrior behind her, launching him into the air while she gulped down her mouthful. Her eyes quickly returning to focus and she spotted another Ork nearby, facing away from her and dizzily reloading his shoota. In an instant she was on top of the new victim, leaping with her intact leg to punch her talons into his back. She howled in delight as she dragged the alien to the dirt, and then stamped a hoof on his leg to cripple her chosen victim.

The thestral queen was huge now, bigger than a Warboss and with a bulging, dragon-like body with numerous bony, backward-curving spines. Her magic cape still lashed about between her wings in the wind, but it was comically small compared to her current bulk and its abilities were all but forgotten in her blood frenzy. She ripped the Ork beneath her in two and then immediately rounded on another, her jaws snapping off some third of the warrior in a single bite. She swallowed the raw meat and then swatted the dying Ork away with a wing, sending him hurtling through the air as more blood washed down her neck and chest.

The Element of Carnage lifted her head and roared in ecstasy, her war cry echoing through the cold desert night.

“Oi! OI!! Stopp wokkin’ inta da ‘sploshuns, ya dumm gitz! Folla me!”

A Warboss in badly dented mega armor trudged through the flaming debris that used to be a bunkhouse, his enormous metal boots crushing the detritus and odd corpse flat to make a path. Hot smoke billowed about him in vast, swirling columns, and shootas rattled wildly as boys fired off bursts into the dark mostly at random. A whistling sound from above heralded another trio of earthshaker shells, but the massive Ork didn’t break stride. He lumbered to the blazing, shredded gates of the outpost while deafening explosions burst well behind him, flattening another building and some number of Gretchen cowering within.

“Oi! I see sumfin!” the Warboss announced as he shouldered his way through the broken gate. There were shapes moving through the dark, and some kind of weird, gloomy light speeding back and forth behind them.

The biggest of the Orks pounded his chest plate with his power klaw and readied his big shoota, aiming into the pitch darkness that had been previously illuminated by the (now destroyed) watch towers. “SHO YASEFF, YA GIT!! AHM WARBOSS KRAKKIT, N’ DEEZ’R MY DIGZ NOW!! IF YA WANEM, GIT OVAH HEAH N’ TAYK ‘EM!!”

A Burna Boy following in Krakkit’s wake hurled an incendiary bottle over the Warboss’s head. It struck the dirt and blossomed into a small patch of flame, providing a small radius of illumination. Immediately the mob could make out many of the figures shambling through the dark toward them, and they were quite surprised to find that they were Orks. The surprise was not so much that a greenskin would attack a fort belonging to their kin – obviously they had done the exact same thing all too recently – but rather that they had already killed these particular Orks once before.

“Wooouaaah,” rasped a green-skinned corpse, clothed only in a bloodied loincloth and lurching past the patch of fire. Its left arm had been removed at the shoulder, and its gut was shredded by gunfire. Its remaining hand was gripping something tightly, and its head lolled to one side as it shuffled toward the warriors.

“Wot da zogg?” Krakkit asked, his eyes narrowing. “OI!! WOTCHU TINK YOOZ DOIN’, YA DUMM GIT!! YA’Z DED ARREDY!!” the Warboss raged before opening fire.

The burst of gunfire cut up from the ground and over one leg, sending most of the ammunition into the dirt but still sawing the zombie’s leg apart. It stumbled and fell limply into the dirt, and its grip loosened. A mottled gray cylinder rolled out onto the dirt, leaving a trail of sticky gore behind it. Most of the Orks were spreading out and shooting into the other corpses slowly shambling into the light, but Krakkit’s eye lingered on the cylinder.

The fragmentation grenade exploded, sending shrapnel scything into the immediate area. Of course, at that range the only thing around to get hit were other zombies, which took the hot shards of metal unflinchingly. Krakkit recoiled and pointed his klaw at the dozen or so undead greenskins walking into the crossfire.

“DEY’Z GOTZ HUMIE BOMMS!! DA ZOG DEY LOOT DAT?! DEY’Z DED!!”

The other Orks hesitated only briefly at this puzzle before shrugging it off and returning to the fray. Muzzle flash cast bright, shuddering light against the wave of lurching zombies as they advanced into the gale of bullets, and one by one the green corpses fell again. Each time the shredded bodies collapsed onto the ground a fragmentation grenade with pin removed would bounce from their lifeless hand and roll across the dirt, exploding seconds later. For the most part this just harmed the other Ork zombies, but as the shambling mob closed the distance a few of the live greenskins started getting hit by the shrapnel.

“Oi, dis lot ain’t da wun dat bring da big boomas!” pointed out a Burna Boy as he began blowing out a stream of fire onto the dead mob. “Kill ‘em all an’ lezz-”

A screeching sound from above interrupted him, and then a huge black bird riddled with veins of purple – almost invisible in the shroud of night – crashed into the Burna Boy, knocking him to the ground and sinking its talons into him. The Orks scattered in surprise, and then watched in bafflement as the enormous raven took off again and carried their fellow Ork away.

Looking up, Warboss Krakkit saw another of the strange birds swooping down at him, the purple light of its eyes streaking through the darkness. With roar he opened up with the big shoota, his arm shuddering from the recoil. A few bullets ripped into the monster’s wings, slowing its dive, but still the creature landed on the Ork. Its talons shrieked as they scraped against the mega armor, and the daemonic raven stabbed its beak toward the Warboss’s head.

Krakkit caught the beast by the neck, his power klaw sinking through black feathers and false flesh while it struggled. Arcs of energy crackled around the klaw, and then Krakkit slammed the creature into the ground.

“Ha! Dat wot ya git, git!” Krakkit cheered, stomping the bird to death.

An explosion came from off to the side, and a few pieces of shrapnel scraped against his armor. The Ork zombies were still being cut down at a good pace, but a few were getting close enough now to attack directly. The undead didn’t throw the grenades they carried; presumably that was beyond their limited physical ability or programming. Instead they dropped the explosive whenever one of them was destroyed, leaving it to blast shrapnel into whoever was nearby.

“Fite HARDA, ya grot-luvin’ squig stayns!” Krakkit bellowed, gunning down an undead Ork and then tearing another in two with his power klaw.

A pair of grenade detonations came a few seconds later, sending hot shrapnel scraping against Krakkit’s leg armor. The Ork ignored it, shouting and laughing and smashing another green zombie into a bloody paste.

Something small rushed past him, briefly illuminated by some muzzle flash. He didn’t get a good look, but it stood out better in the darkness for having a lighter color. As another of the massive black birds descended on him, Krakkit dismissed whatever it was and got back to the business of fighting, filling the air with burst fire and laughing.

“C’mere burdee! I’z in da mood fer chikkin!” howled the alien, his arm shaking and the barrels of his big shoota glowing red-hot. The daemonic beast was rapidly torn to shreds as it got closer, crumbling into a stream of black feathers and purple dust.

Stopping behind the Warboss, Isabelle Bane glanced back and forth to make sure the other Orks were too busy fighting to notice her. Then she reached out and tapped the back of Krakkit’s armor, her horn flashing with a pulse of purple light.

The Ork’s heart promptly stopped beating. Isabelle back away, slinking into the darkness and away from the sounds of combat.

“WAAAAH HAAA HAA… haaa… huh.” Krakkit let his big shoota rest, his breaths becoming shallow and strained. “Dat… Dat ain’t fee roiht,” he grumbled.

A zombie lumbered up to him, groaning pitifully while reaching out with its bloodied hands (one still tightly gripping an armed grenade, of course). Krakkit seized the abomination around the waist with his power klaw and snipped the corpse in two.

The zombie’a grenade fell to the ground and a few seconds later it exploded, once again battering the Warboss’s leg armor with scything metal fragments. Krakkit flinched, feeling the noise of the explosion ring in his head in a way the sounds never had before. His eyes watered, and he blinked repeatedly to try to clear them.

“Oi… Yoo… Yoo gitz…” the armored Ork staggered toward his soldiers, raising his big shoota. “Ah’m… not feelin’ too… fighty…”

A zombie latched onto his power klaw, pulling at it and grasping with its free hand for any exposed flesh.

“Git da… Da painboy.” Krakkit’s voice rasped as another undead Ork grabbed onto a loose cable on his back and another started reaching for his face. “I’z gonna… ly… jus… nap a liddel… wayk me wen… we’z wun…”

Krakkit’s eyes fluttered closed, and he slowly keeled over into the grasping hands and gnashing teeth of his dead victims.

Badlands
ERROR: Geolocation cipher classified above current security registry. Proximity augury disengaged.

“Talk to me, Neuro. What are we looking at?” Dusk Blade asked. “Do you have eyes on the camp?”

“Yes,” Neuron Dialect replied, perched behind a stone crag and peeking over the top. “What’s left of it. That’s a surprisingly heavy bombardment pattern considering the apparent defenses.”

“Not great,” Dusk groaned, his ears flipping down.

“Well it at least means there are fewer Orks to clear out now, right?” Gloom Fang asked.

Neuron’s eyes rotated and the scanning lenses shifted, whirring softly under her hood. Zooming in on the base of one of the huge smoke plumes that stretched into the sky, she spied a shape walking out of the camp’s ruins while dragging a larger body behind it. A few more seconds of observation confirmed it.

“There are no more Orks to clear out,” Neuron corrected her squadmate. “The base has been assaulted and seized.”

“What? Why?” Dusk asked, perplexed. “This was a recon mission, there shouldn’t be any assaults yet.”

“Maybe someone else has a secret mission like we do?” Gloom Fang considered.

Neuron suddenly hissed and pressed herself tight to the rock spire. Dusk, Gloom, and Nacht all responded by dropping to the ground and remaining absolutely still. Penumbra Shard and Gear Works didn’t understand at first, but carefully and quietly did the same.

A few seconds later an echoing screech pierced the darkness, and a pair of bat ponies flew overhead. A patrol. Perhaps to guard against infiltrators, but just as likely seeking any greenskins that fled the attack. The mares stopped directly over the group and released another screech, the sound overlapping with the earlier pulse to detect any signs of movement. The pair had low-light optics, but they didn’t stop to study the area further. A few more seconds and they were gone, their periodic shrieks rapidly becoming more distant.

Neuron Dialect dropped down to the ground and slunk over to Dusk Blade. “Lieutenant. The mare I spotted outside the base… she had a drawing on her armor, on the hip cover. A cluster of grapes, I think. I spied a coiled white snake on one of the patrol mares just now, too.”

Gloom furrowed his brow. “Weird squadron markers.”

“That’s not a squad symbol, idiot, those are cutie marks,” Nacht hissed. “The ponies that have them like to paint them on their armor. And that means these ponies are…”

“Bloodborne. Great,” Dusk slapped a wing over his face.

“… What exactly does that mean for our current objective? What’s wrong with Bloodborne?” Gears asked.

“I have no idea, honestly. Which is itself a problem,” the Lunar Lieutenant grumbled. “Any other bat pony squad or tribe I would know what we’re getting into, but these mares are… different.”

He grimaced and walked over to Gear Works. “Gears, can you help take off my ballistics brace and attach it to Nacht? She’s going to need a weapon.”

The Dark Acolyte wordlessly complied, his servo arm lifting Dusk’s foreleg while smaller tools emerged from his augmetic hoof.

“You’re going to stay here with Nacht and Neuro and try to observe us from hiding,” Dusk ordered as the brace and the attached splinter rifle came loose. “If things get bad, you guys run and find a place to hide. Gloomy, Shard, you’re with me.”

“I am at your service, Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred, sidling up next to the stallion eagerly.

“Don’t Bloodborne hate Moon Mages, though?” Gloom Fang asked as he peeked out from the outcropping.

“We don’t KNOW, Gloomy. Nopony in our regiment spends time chatting up Queen fanging Empyra to check if her clan’s ancient grudges are still valid,” Dusk growled. “But if we have to fight or make a break for it, you, me, and Shard have the best shot at taking them by surprise after we’ve already announced ourselves. Clear?”

Gloom Fang nodded and slipped his mask up into place, covering up his mouth and lower eyes.

Dusk Blade took a deep breath. “All right, let’s do this.”

Dusk stepped out from behind the outcropping, squared his shoulders, and marched forward. Gloom Fang flanked his right side, while Penumbra trailed behind the stallions, her gaze fixed on Dusk’s rear end. Dusk released a short, high-pitched squeak from the back of his throat, allowing him and Gloom to map the immediate path ahead with their echolocation.

The sound wasn’t intended to alert the Bloodborne, but evidently the mares were vigilant. Within seconds Dusk heard wings beating above them. Small lights from optics visors glinted in the shadows from nearby rocks, wreckage, and smoke plumes. Soon the trio was mostly surrounded, more than a dozen bat ponies quietly stalking around them in a wide circle while they advanced.

“… Shard? Give us some light, would you? I don’t think anypony’s going to manage hiding here; may as well see what we’re dealing with,” Dusk ordered.

Penumbra’s horn lit up, summoning a sphere of turquoise magic that illuminated the immediate area like a large lamp. The Bloodborne mares recoiled and a few hissed at being exposed, but none made any aggressive moves or sought to back away into the darkness. Dusk slowed to take a look around, checking what kind of armament the ponies had.

A few of them carried echo cannons, and those mares kept slightly behind the others as they studied the newcomers. Most of the warriors had melee weapons, however. Dusk noted that several had heavy greaves that acted as shields and hid deployable sword blades. They were bulky, melee-focused weapons that made the use of a ballistic weapon all but impossible unless one could shoot with just one’s wings. Which some thestrals could, but it was an unpopular skill.

A loud, dominating screech came from above, and the newcomers cringed while another bat pony dropped down from above. She landed several feet in front of Dusk Blade, her large wings and considerable mass blasting a shock wave of dust around her. Whereas none of the other mares were familiar to the trio, they all recognized this pony immediately.

Queen Empyra of the Bloodborne lifted her head, staring down at the three smaller ponies. Her cape, still ragged and dirty from the battle, whipped about in the air behind her, as if captured in a wind nopony else could feel. She didn’t appear to be wearing any armor or other accessories, and Dusk spent a moment studying her cutie mark – a blood-colored moon wreathed in clouds – before he looked up into her eyes.

Empyra smiled, her lips parting over rows of sharp teeth still stained with blood. “Hello, friends,” she greeted, her tongue snaking out of her mouth to lick her lips. “Who might you be, to find yourself all the way out here on this auspicious evening?”

Dusk’s ears flipped down, but otherwise he kept his expression stalwart. “I’m Lieutenant Dusk Blade, of Dagger Squadron. We heard the artillery fire and came to investigate,” he reported.

“Then you may receive my report,” Empyra replied, her tone sounding amused. “The Ork camp has been destroyed. The warriors within have been slaughtered. This base is now mine.”

Dusk chewed his lip briefly as he decided on his next words, but Gloom Fang was not nearly so thoughtful.

“You guys know that you’re on a recon mission, right? You’re not supposed to kill the enemy, just find them and tell the humans about it,” the larger stallion explained.

Empyra chuckled lightly as she started circling the three ponies, her eyes studying Dusk and Gloom extensively in the light of Penumbra’s magic.

“I don’t like leaving the fun part to the apes,” she said smugly, steam blasting from her nostrils. “This camp posed no great danger, so we destroyed it. I doubt the soldiers of Chaos will begrudge me for claiming this field for the Bloodborne.”

“Okay, but let’s say there was actually something real important here that they DIDN’T want blown up. You know, just as a random example,” Gloom retorted. Dusk slapped a wing over his eyes. “It would have been way more helpful in that case to just let them know about the camp and the number of Orks, right?”

Empyra cocked her head to the side, staring down at the lavender stallion with a predatory smile. “You’re very dumb and very pretty. I like you.”

“Thanks! I get that a lot,” Gloom Fang said, looking a bit smug as he dusted off his chest armor. “You’re not really my type, though.” Dusk and Penumbra groaned.

“You’re here for something other than checking out the fireworks, so out with it,” Empyra demanded, her eyes darting from pony to pony. “What do you want?”

Penumbra cleared her throat lightly. “We’re not here for-”

“You. Moon Mage,” Empyra interrupted, her voice much harsher than before. “You are dismissed. There’s another of you wretched unicorns, Isabelle Bane, in a broken hut on the West side doing profane things with a Warboss’s bones. Go scheme with her and leave us be.” She raised a wing and pointed it in the precise direction.

Penumbra blinked in surprise. “Oh! That’s actually very helpful, thank you!” She beamed and then blew a kiss at Dusk, who looked even more dismayed while she trotted by the thestral queen and left. “I’ll see you later, Lieutenant! Mwah!”

“Ah ha! So you DO hate the Moon Mages?” Gloom asked.

Empyra hesitated, thinking carefully about the question. “I don’t like them, but they can be very useful, actually. Like any leashed warbeast they must be disciplined and directed, or they start killing your prisoners and making a mess.” The thestral queen sneered, but then her expression turned more pleasant (albeit still quite aggressive). “But back to business, stallions. What are you here for?”

“I believe that there’s a drill rig in this Ork camp. It’s a human machine that the greenskins stole,” Dusk admitted. “That’s what we’re after. Assuming it wasn’t destroyed in the bombardment. Can we have a look?”

Empyra’s eyes narrowed, and then she brought the claw of her wing to her mouth, blowing a shrill and peculiar whistle. After a few seconds, another bat pony came galloping out of the camp and rushed to the queen’s side.

“Beryl! These ones say they’re looking for a machine,” Empyra nudged her head toward the stallions. “You were reviewing the remains of the base, were you not?”

“Yes, my queen!” Beryl Blaster bowed to the larger mare, her echo cannon rattling from the motion. Then she turned a wary gaze on the unfamiliar ponies. “What are you looking for, specifically?”

“A drill rig. It’s a large work vehicle with a huge drill for digging boreholes and an in-built ore grinder to process mining yields,” Dusk explained. “There are several in Ferrous Dominus. It would be much bigger than a tank, with large treads and a raised service platform and a small driver’s cab.”

Beryl nodded rapidly. “Yes, that’s an excellent description! There’s one of those in the back, where they have a great deal of scavenged scrap and vehicles!”

Dusk looked relieved. “And it wasn’t damaged by the artillery strikes?”

“That is beyond my expertise,” Beryl admitted. “But I don’t think any of the shells hit it directly.”

Dusk soured at this news, but Gloom Fang seemed quite pleased. “Okay, so we’re just gonna go nab that rig and then we’ll be out of your tail, okay?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Empyra laughed. “No. No, that’s not how this goes at all. The rig is mine. It is part of my war loot.”

Dusk scowled, his mood darkening further. Gloom just looked perplexed.

“What would you want with a drill rig? You gonna start some deep mining op in the desert?” Gloom chuckled. “Going to dig up some gold or something? Because there’s definitely nothing important around here that you’d use a huge drill to get to!”

“Gloomy, would you SHUT UP and let me do the talking?” Dusk snapped.

“I don’t have any use for a drill rig, obviously,” Empyra replied, brushing aside Dusk’s interjection, “but you do. So I’ll trade it to you.”

Dusk felt his heart sink. “Trade… for… for what?”

“YOU,” the thestral queen breathed, her smile cracking open to let her long, serpentine tongue hang from her maw. When Dusk recoiled, her hungry expression became more reserved. “One of you, that is. No need to be greedy. Preferably the big dim one.”

Gloom Fang still looked confused. “My name is Gloom Fang, by the way. And what do you mean you ‘want me?’ Would I join one of your squads? What would you want me to do?”

“I assure you, your duties will be quite pleasant,” Empyra chuckled, lifting a wing to veil her mouth coyly. The other Bloodborne were creeping closer now, sitting down just a few feet away and watching the stallions with carnal or amused expressions.

“It’s not cooking, is it? I HATE cooking!” Gloom made a disgusted face.

“Gloomy, do you remember what Silver said about the Bloodborne’s regiment?” Dusk asked, massaging his forehead.

“Yeah, she said that they’re all mares, right?” He glanced around at the ponies surrounding them, looking a bit disappointed. “Checks out.”

“Do you remember WHY?” Dusk asked, turning his head to glare at the larger stallion.

“No, I totally lost interest after that part, why?”

“Bloodborne don’t have male warriors or even treat them like real members of their tribe because their stallions are used as breeding studs and pleasure slaves,” Dusk Blade said, rustling his wings and glaring at Empyra. “THAT’S what she wants you for, not doing household chores!”

“We make them do chores too,” Beryl Blaster pointed out, “he probably will have to cook something at some point.”

“HARD PASS,” Gloom replied with a scowl.

“No? A pity,” Empyra sighed. “Then how about we fight over it instead?”

Dusk and Gloom perked substantially at this, although Dusk was still very suspicious.

“How about it? One of you fights one of us Bloodborne. If you’re victorious, you can have the machine. If you’re defeated, you serve us from now on, and then I suppose the other one can take the machine once we leave this place. A very fair wager, don’t you think?”

Dusk Blade’s eyes darted from side to side, gauging each of the warrior ponies around him and trying to guess if any of them had any weapon or power of worth. Gloom Fang smirked under his mask and then leapt up into the air. By the time Dusk realized what was about to happen, it was too late to stop the other stallion from bellowing his challenge.

“You want a fight? Yeah, okay! I like those odds,” Gloom Fang agreed, taking his mask off and revealing the dark marks across his cheeks.

“Splendid!” Empyra said cheerfully, waving a wing to the side. “I will be your opponent. Beryl, stand back.”

The ash-colored mare scurried away to a safe distance, and Dusk Blade trudged over to join her. The stallion looked quite aggravated by the turn of events, but had given up trying to appeal to Gloom directly. The other Bloodborne backed off to watch, and a few started rushing to set up lengths of wooden debris as torches to illuminate the space beyond what was offered by Penumbra’s light sphere. The mares’ previous military discipline had dissolved entirely, and many started whooping, whistling, or bouncing in excitement as Empyra started to stretch.

“So, would you like to set any particular rules? First blood? Knockout? First limb lost?” Empyra slowly twisted her neck to one side and then the other, eliciting some pops and cracks while Gloom Fang hovered some thirty feet away and above her.

“It doesn’t really matter, but sure, first blood.” Gloom licked his lips hungrily, although it lacked the feral, aggressive energy of his opponent. “I’ll bet yours is SPICY.”

“Confidence! Delightful,” the larger thestral said, her eyes looking slightly manic and her breath emerging in steaming clouds. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you in…”

“Yeah, sure you will.” Gloom Fang laughed and opened up the Eyes of Malice.

“What? Is that-” Beryl gasped, but before she could complete the sentence Dusk stuck a wing in front of her face, blocking her view. He already had his eyes closed, of course.

A golden flash came from Gloom’s extra eyes, and most of the Bloodborne mares watching below were instantly immobilized, their expressions of surprise or gleeful cheering frozen onto their faces. Empyra too stood stock still, her eyes shifting rapidly from side to side. Some of the Bloodborne watching were at such an angle to be unaffected by the paralyzing glare, and those mares seemed confused as the others fell silent and froze in place.

Beryl Blaster swatted Dusk’s wing aside, and then her eyes widened as she stared at the paralyzed ponies facing Gloom Fang. “What? How… How did he…?”

“Ancient clan technique, don’t worry about it,” Dusk said, folding his wings again. “So how bad was the damage to the platform? Is the driver’s cab okay?”

Gloom Fang landed in front of Empyra, a wide grin on his face as he got closer. “First blood it is. Let’s see that neck, your highness.”

“You’re adorable,” Empyra replied. Then she gave him a little peck on the snout.

Gloom Fang froze in shock as the gears turning in his skull tried to reassess the situation and instead ground to a complete halt. Then Empyra slammed her head down onto his, hammering the stallion into the dirt.

“WHAT?! HOW?!” Dusk shouted from the sidelines, almost as surprised as Gloom.

Empyra chuckled as she reached one wing down, grasping Gloom’s rear leg with the claws on the peak. “Did you REALLY think it would be that easy?”

“I… ugh… kinda did… ow…” Gloom Fang groaned as he was dragged into the air upside-down, hanging from Empyra’s wing.

Empyra grinned down at the stallion, her lips curling to reveal her blade-like teeth. Then she blinked right before another golden flash came from Gloom Fang’s eyes.

“Nice try,” the thestral queen sneered, letting her wing fall to strike Gloom’s head onto the ground. The stallion yelped in pain, and then she dragged him back up.

“She blinked? That’s it?” Dusk asked, looking over at Beryl. “How did she know how to time it?”

Beryl Blaster stared at him incredulously. “I feel like having four eyes and a magic stunning gaze is still a lot weirder than that, why are YOU the one acting all shocked?”

“Blinked? You BLINKED?!” Gloom Fang shouted in rapidly growing horror. “NO! Eyelids! My only weakness!”

Empyra hauled him up higher, and she smiled at seeing a bleeding cut on his temple. “First blood is mine, slave.” Her long, snake-like tongue licked at the wound, sliding across his face in a way that would have seemed erotic to many stallions but just made Gloom feel uncomfortable and a little hungry. “You’ll make a splendid toy.”

“Yes, well, on that point,” Dusk interrupted, rushing up past the half-ring of still-paralyzed mares. “I didn’t really think he’d lose so this is our bad but I should have pointed out earlier that Gloom Fang doesn’t exactly… like mares. If you know what I mean.”

Empyra arched an eyebrow. “Oh? He is a… what is the word you use… homosexual?”

“I don’t bring it up a lot because sometimes ponies get weird about it, but yeah. I’m into stallions,” Gloom confirmed. “I also didn’t say anything before because I kind of got the impression it wouldn’t matter to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Empyra replied. Then she closed her eyes again just before Gloom Fang’s golden eyes flashed.

“Stop that! Stop blinking!” the stallion growled.

Empyra smirked and addressed Dusk Blade. “I have what I wanted. You may go take the machine you came for.”

Dusk cringed, his ears flipping down. “I… uh… okay.” He lifted his head and released a gentle but high-pitched screech, signaling to the others that it was safe.

“Lieutenant, wait! Don’t leave me here!” Gloom shouted, slowly starting to panic as the reality of his situation sank in.

“You agreed to their terms, nitwit!” Dusk snapped. “Didn’t I tell you to let me do the talking?!”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was really good at blinking! Since when is that even a skill?!”

“Speaking of which,” Beryl Blaster interjected, waving her wing in front of one of the stunned bat ponies, “how long is this paralysis going to last? We need these ponies’ help to clear the camp.”

“It lasts a few minutes, that’s all.” Dusk replied, right before another golden flash came from the four-eyed stallion and again failed to immobilize Empyra.

“Are there any side effects after it wears off?” Beryl asked, checking the warrior’s pulse.

“None that we’re aware of, but most of the affected targets end up dead so there’s not a lot of examples to work with,” Dusk admitted. Then he spotted A trio of ponies slowly approaching from the gloom and walking into the light of the torches. “Anyway, my Techpriest is here, so good luck breaking in the big lug. I have to go check up on that rig.”

“No! No, don’t wish them good luck! At least wish them BAD luck!” Gloom protested in a panic.

Empyra found the four-eyed stallion’s banter amusing, but Dusk’s comment had caught her attention. She lifted her head higher, and she arched an eyebrow. “Your Techpriest?”

Beryl glanced over at the approaching ponies, and then she did a double-take. “Is… Is that…” her eyes went wide, and she suddenly bolted toward the newcomers. “My Queen, look!”

Empyra’s eyes widened, and then she looked down at Gloom Fang again. Then she dropped him, eliciting a painful squeak from the stallion. She headed forward at a quick trot, leaving him behind and more confused than ever.

Nacht and Neuron Dialect grew alarmed as more and more Bloodborne warriors noticed their approach and rushed toward them. None had their weapons brandished or shouted battle cries, so they were reasonably sure the mares weren’t attacking in a frenzy, but they nonetheless shifted in front of Gear Works and raised their own weapons defensively. Neuron tried to recall if she had stolen anything from the Bloodborne recently, while Nacht fumed quietly at the prospect of fighting without her echo cannon.

Dusk likewise grew alarmed as his companions were surrounded, and he took to the air. Lifting up higher, he tried to sweep around to the flank so that he could strike several ponies in one dive, but he was doubtful that it would help and was still very confused about what exactly was happening. Having Gloom Fang loose again could be some help, although now that the Bloodborne knew how to counter his ability – and since bat ponies could fight with their eyes closed – the Element of Malice was hardly a trump card anymore. Penumbra would have been a far more effective option, and possibly for the first time ever Dusk regretted letting her leave.

Empyra reached the cluster of her underlings, and they immediately parted to clear a path. Nacht and Neuron bristled at the larger pony, aiming their guns directly at her. She obviously sensed the tension, and she offered the mares of Dagger Squadron a toothy smile.

Then she bowed her head and touched the tips of her wings to the ground. “Dark Acolyte Gear Works, welcome! As always, the Bloodborne are honored by your presence! How may we assist?”

Dusk Blade immediately crash-landed, almost knocking over one of the torches and skidding to a stop behind Beryl Blaster.

Nacht and Neuron stared at Empyra for a few seconds, and then slowly and silently turned around to stare at Gear Works. Gear Works blinked his optic lights uncertainly and looked over at Dusk. Then he shrugged and stepped past the mares guarding him.

“Salutations, Queen Empyra. I am currently attached to Dagger Squadron, under the command of Lieutenant Dusk Blade. Has he spoken to you about our current objective?” the cyborg pony asked.

“Indeed, he has. You are here for a machine in the Ork’s camp. A drilling tank, or… something. It is yours,” Empyra said, lifting her head again. “My apologies for this… crass game I was playing with your associates. If I had known you were with them then I would not have wasted your time.”

“That is quite all right, Queen. Thank you for your assistance in this matter.” Gears bowed his head. Then he turned to Beryl Blaster, his claw swiveling to hover over Neuron. “Miss Blaster, this is Neuron Dialect. Can you lead her to the drill rig so she can assemble a rudimentary damage report?”

“Of course, honored Acolyte,” Beryl said, her voice almost as reverent as when she spoke to Empyra. Then she faced the thestral sniper and tilted her head sharply to one side. “This way.”

Neuron didn’t move, and instead stared at Gear Works. Nacht also stared at Gear Works. Dusk slowly stood up from the divot he had carved in the ground and stared at Gear Works. Gloom Fang slowly walked up next to Dusk, also staring at Gear Works.

Then Gloom frowned. “Okay, wait, so is the nerd going to be the sex slave now? Am I off the hook?”

Several mares were overcome with laughter at this suggestion, while others turned toward Gloom with expressions of annoyance or contempt. Empyra just chuckled into a wing.

“You are off the hook, yes. As much as I would have enjoyed your services, the Acolyte’s are FAR more valuable,” the thestral queen explained, spreading a wing to gesture to the other Bloodborne. “On that matter, I do hope the Dark Acolyte has some time to spare? I would consider it more than ample compensation for the machine if you were to see to the weaponry of my warriors.”

“Of course, Queen. I shall begin the maintenance rites at once,” Gears agreed.

The smaller Bloodborne suddenly began a rush of activity, apparently waiting for this cue. The warriors carrying echo cannons quickly lined up in front of the tech-cultist, while those who had stashed their weapons in the supply train because they had become non-functional flew off to retrieve them. One of the stunned Bloodborne shuddered as her paralysis finally wore off, gasped at finally being able to move, and then sprinted away to get her jammed splinter rifle fixed.

Beryl Blaster gave Neuron Dialect a shove, gesturing toward the camp. “Get a move on. I need to get my echo cannon tuned too.” Neuron’s eyes glinted a bright red from under her hood, but she said nothing and left.

Dusk Blade watched as Gears accepted the first echo cannon and started opening the case. “Gears? Why didn’t you tell anypony that you knew the Bloodborne?” he asked, eyebrow twitching.

“I was not consulted on diplomatic outreach toward nominally allied groups,” Gear Works noted while withdrawing a glassine rod. “For obvious reasons, of course. It is not a field I have training or experience in, and anyway it occurred to me that some of you may have personal histories that would complicate a peaceful negotiation.” A small torch extended from his bionic hoof, burning into a hairline fracture on the component. “I was also unaware that Queen Empyra herself was leading this warband; most of my reputation among the tribe is linked to her.” He replaced the rod and then started closing the case again, making sure to tighten all the screws that had been rattled loose.

“If you’d said something earlier we could have avoided all this!” Gloom Fang growled, rubbing at the dirty cut on his forehead. “I lost a fight because of you!”

“You lost a fight because you are arrogant and weak. Do not burden others with your failure,” Empyra retorted sharply. “And if you continue to make a nuisance of yourself I will demand the terms of that combat be honored, slave.”

Gloom wilted immediately, shrinking back with his ears pinning to his head. He glanced at Dusk for a defense, but his squad leader just glared at him, obviously in agreement.

Dusk Blade watched Gears hand over the repaired echo cannon to a delighted bat pony and then pick up the next one. Then the Lieutenant looked over to Empyra suspiciously. “So how do you two know each other, again?”

The thestral queen made a deep, throaty chuckling sound as she sat down. “We have a personal history, of course, but what equine does not know of Gear Works, the sole pony of the Dark Mechanicus?”

“Most of them,” Dusk replied dryly, “so let’s hear about that personal history.”

“I happen to do more maintenance work in Nightwatch than any other tech-clergy, given that the Techpriests de-prioritize dwellings used exclusively by ponies,” Gear Works explained as he tightened a power relay. “The Bloodborne noticed that I always seemed to be the one to show up when anyone did at all, and then discovered very quickly that if they referred to me by name when filing maintenance requests the chances of a resolution rise significantly.”

“That’s true,” Empyra said, smirking, “but that’s not how we met.”

Gears stopped, and he turned to face the larger equine. The little circular optic lights of his eyes slowly stretched into flat lines, giving the impression of narrowing or squinting eyelids.

“Oh, come now! It’s funny!” Empyra insisted.

“… Do you have to tell them HERE? I do not need further distractions,” Gears grumbled before handing the next repaired weapon back to its owner.

“As you wish, honored Acolyte,” Empyra bowed formally, and then turned toward the other ponies of Dagger Squad while waving a wing toward the camp. “Come to my table and feast with me, warriors! We have ample meat dragged from the blast craters!”

“Ooh, I hope it’s still warm,” Gloom said, perking up and cautiously following the queen.

Neither Dusk or Nacht liked the prospect of eating greenskins, but they nonetheless followed Empyra as the larger thestral headed into the camp. Whatever she offered them to eat would probably taste better than nutrient gruel, at least.

“Yes, yes, I know. I should have gotten rid of all of the witnesses. Maybe I could have prodded them to try to stop Nacht before the Lieutenant told them to flee… I doubt it would work, though. In the heat of the moment I’m afraid the circumstances got away from me.”

Penumbra Shard sighed and took a sip of her canteen while it hovered in front of her snout. The gentle glow of her telekinesis was the only light within the shattered barracks, and it barely cast enough illumination to outline Isabelle Bane’s face while the pale mare sat in front of her.

“It’s Blade,” Isabelle mumbled.

“Well, sure. Him too. All the Elements take their job seriously enough that they may balk at being asked to slay other Company soldiers. He’s the only one I’m certain would try to stop me, though.”

Isabelle shook her head, her curtain of black hair slowly swinging back and forth. “Not that. He affects your thinking.”

Penumbra frowned.

“It’s true…” Isabelle insisted, her eye contact faltering and her ears flipping down.

“Maybe he does. But that’s quite beside the point now,” Penumbra said curtly. “Inform Rasa. We need to have those Strider pilots’ memories altered. Gumball Glade and Zariyah Backfire and… two others. Drat, I don’t think we ever got their names.”

Isabelle’s brow furrowed. “What about the other one with you?”

“You don’t need to worry about the tech-cultist. I’ll take care of him on my end. But it will only buy us a little more time, I think. The Elements of Destruction are becoming more brazen with their powers, and the apes more suspicious.” Penumbra sniffed, wishing she’d thought to bring her pipe.

“The Element of Carnage does not hide her power at all. She revels in it,” Isabelle said.

“I have MANY questions about that, not least how she ended up losing to a single human soldier if that’s the case,” Penumbra giggled. “I don’t suppose she’d be willing to sit for a little interview, though. We’ll have to rely on your observations. Strength, rapid regeneration, and-”

Beryl Blaster suddenly burst into the door, looking alarmed. She stopped short when she saw the Moon Mages barely illuminated by the glow of Penumbra’s magic, and then her mouth moved like she was speaking. Penumbra and Isabelle didn’t hear a thing, which did not come as a surprise to them.

Penumbra let the magic Silence Veil she was maintaining fall, and the light from her horn dimmed. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone making it clear the bat pony was unwelcome.

Beryl recoiled in surprise. “I can hear you now! What’s going on? What was that?”

“A little cantrip to prevent eavesdropping and foil echolocation,” Penumbra asked. “Is that all you wanted to know? We weren’t done here.”

Beryl frowned, but decided to drop the matter. “Queen Empyra requests your presence at her table. She is hosting Dagger Squadron.”

“We politely decline,” Penumbra said, turning her head away.

“Get up and get moving, PRISONER,” Beryl snarled. “You too, Bane. Spending a few minutes doing something resembling social activity will be good for you.”

Isabelle’s ears flattened against the side of her head, and she stood up quietly to comply. Penumbra made a disgusted noise but followed suit. It wouldn’t do to cause a conflict if Dusk had managed to come to a peaceable agreement.

The Moon Mages trudged after Beryl, exiting the room past the pair of guards. The mares standing watch at the entrance glared at the unicorns venomously; they were quite annoyed to learn why they hadn’t heard a thing since Penumbra arrived. The elder sorceress paid them no mind, idly observing the various craters and shattered buildings that littered the base. The other ponies were doing little to mend the damage while they dragged supplies about, so Penumbra had to assume the Bloodborne weren’t planning to stay for very long.

“The scenery here is a little rough for hosting a lunch, isn’t it?” Penumbra asked. “You haven’t even cleared up all the corpses.”

“It is very rough, yes,” Beryl agreed. “This is what victory looks like, Moon Mage: blood, ashes, heaps of dead, and great constructs brought to ruin for a moment’s advantage,” she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not surprised you don’t recognize it.”

“Rude,” Penumbra remarked. “For starters, my name is-”

“Hush, Moon Mage. This way.”

The trio approached a long scrap-built building that had its back corner blasted off by an artillery detonation. Penumbra was quite nonplussed when their guide walked around the closed and badly dented doors and started climbing up the rubble pile outside the missing piece of wall instead. There was a torch half-buried in the twisted metal and shattered stone, and she could hear Empyra’s rich, throaty voice coming from the opening.

“My Queen,” Beryl announced, bowing her head before descending down the ramp of debris, “I’ve brought the unicorns. Penumbra Shard and Isabelle Bane have arrived per your request.”

“Good! Bring them in! We were just getting to the good part!” Empyra announced, grinning to show off her teeth.

A rickety table had been recovered and set up in what had been the Warboss’s quarters and was laden with what would charitably be considered “food” and jugs of water. Not all the offerings had been scraped from the recent battlefield or abandoned cook fires, but even so the only vegetarian fare was a stack of dented ration tins shoved to one end. Nacht and Dusk sat across from Empyra, listening intently, while Gloom Fang quietly exsanguinated a severed green arm.

“So it turned out Butter had began sending all requests for assistance to Acolyte Gear Works, since he seemed more responsive. Not just repair orders! Maintenance requests, armory requisitions, supply orders, idle questions about the apes and their technologies, even directions to particular establishments and outposts. As far as I am aware he answered every one, which both endeared him to my warriors and encouraged them to abuse this access further.”

Empyra paused to rip off a chunk of a raw Ork leg and gulp it down. Penumbra and Isabelle shuffled quietly and took their seats, with the latter getting some lingering stares from the other guests.

“One night, frustrated by a particularly fruitless argument with our Princess Luna, I complained to my circle about my concubines being forbidden in Ferrous Dominus,” the thestral queen continued.

“It does seem a little unfair, what with all the OTHER slavery in the city,” Dusk pointed out. Nacht arched an eyebrow at him and sighed.

“Exactly! Why are our ways specifically against the rules?!” Empyra huffed, taking another bite of her meal.

“Because Princesses Luna and Sparkle make the rules for pony residents and conscripts,” Penumbra interjected, her voice dry as the wasteland sands. “They would, of course, free all the slaves if they could, including the ones still locked away in the pits you call home.”

Empyra made a face at the unicorn, but did not offer an argument. “Anyway, as I was saying: Sensing my desire, Butter Sly decided to try submitting a request, just as she would for a broken screen. To Dark Acolyte Gear Works.”

Gloom Fang suddenly spat out the blood he was drinking, and then started coughing violently in-between wheezing laughter. Empyra seemed to appreciate this reaction, while the rest of the ponies cringed at the blood being splashed across that section of the table.

“I don’t know what words she used in the order, but she must have been very coy about it because the good Acolyte was even more confused than I was when he arrived. He was apparently there to repair plumbing, and I was furious that I was expected to vent my passions with a servitor.” Empyra sighed, which was barely audible with Gloom laughing and pounding the table uncontrollably. “I know better now, of course, but that was the first time I had ever encountered him myself.”

“Really? You didn’t know about the only pony in the Dark Mechanicus?” Dusk asked, throwing the queen’s earlier words back at her.

She grimaced. “It has taken me longer than most of my warriors to fully appreciate the benefits of the Company’s technology and the efforts of those who build and maintain it. This is true,” Empyra mumbled. “But nopony who has served under the apes for longer than I has such an excuse.”

“Okay, cool, so back to you meeting the nerd and getting mad. Then what happened?” Nacht asked eagerly. “Did you do it anyway?”

“No, of course not,” the queen snorted. “Beryl heard my enraged shouts and found me pinning the poor Acolyte to the wall, his cloak ripped away and one of his mechanical legs bitten off. She was eventually able to convince me not to harm him further, since he was the cultist who most often repaired their sonic devices and dormitory machines. It was a very near thing, however, and the poor Acolyte was left in heap, crippled, while we argued over his fate.”

Beryl nodded wearily, offering no comment but confirming the details. Nacht and Penumbra joined Gloom Fang in laughing at the imagery, delighting in the prospect of the tech-cultist’s suffering. Dusk snickered more gently, amused by the story but feeling more than a tinge of pity for his friend.

“The confrontation was quite embarrassing, but I look back on it fondly. The Acolyte is now an honored friend of the Bloodborne. We owe him much and all my warriors are forbidden to harm him,” Empyra admitted before running her long tongue over her plate, slurping up the remaining morsels. “It speaks well of your squad that you command such an individual.”

“I guess he HAS been useful once or twice,” Nacht mumbled reluctantly.

“I prefer stallions that can sate a mare,” Penumbra sneered before swallowing a scoop of nutrient gruel.

“He did that too,” Empyra mentioned before dragging a plate of wet, completely unidentifiable meat in front of her.

Watching the thestral queen stick her face into the pile of gore and devour it like a starving wolf was quite nauseating, even to the other carnivores, but none of the guests could help it. Dusk’s eyes were wide and Nacht’s jaw was slack. Gloom Fang mostly seemed confused.

“Wait, but you said earlier that you two didn’t do it,” Gloom pointed out, his lower eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“We didn’t,” Empyra said simply, descending upon her meal again without further explanation.

Beryl lifted a wing to her lips and giggled coyly at the others’ perplexed expressions. “The Dark Acolyte can make many, many things. Not all such designs can be found in the schemata of the tech-shrines.”

Most of the other ponies still seemed clueless, but Dusk caught on immediately and gave the queen an exasperated glare. “You made him build you a sex toy?”

Empyra nodded vigorously, still happily chewing a mouthful of guts. Penumbra’s eyebrow arched sharply. Isabelle continued to stare silently at something off to the side, as if listening to a completely different conversation.

“I stand corrected... What’s THAT like?” Penumbra asked, leaning in.

Empyra lifted her head from her plate and wiped her wing across her lips. “It is large, ugly, and noisy, and for unclear reasons it requires liquid fuel to operate. There are far more spikes than is necessary or desirable. It also came with a separate chainblade attachment, which I discarded immediately.” She shrugged. “It works very well, however.”

“Perfectly on-brand for Chaos technology,” Nacht said ruefully.

There was a scuffling sound from behind, and multiple ears twitched from hearing something land gently outside the shattered hall.

“Lieutenant,” Neuron Dialect announced, standing atop the ramp made of scorched debris.

“How’s it look, Neuro?” Dusk asked, shifting around on the bench.

“Bad,” the purple mare replied. “The driver cab was flattened. Not a direct hit, but it was definitely in a blast zone and something heavy enough to crush the controls struck it,” Neuron explained, her eyes shifting their gleaming red gaze onto Empyra.

“Are you serious? So it’s stuck here?” Nacht asked, horrified.

“I’m sure the Acolyte can fix it,” Empyra said breezily before ripping into another greasy mass of raw meat.

Dusk frowned. “How is the rest of the rig?”

“The rest is in decent shape. Nothing obviously missing other than the controls. I don’t think the greenskins started scrapping it yet.”

“Okay, I’m going to go get Gear Works and let him have a look,” Dusk sighed, getting up and walking toward the hole in the roof.

“If the damage is that bad, wouldn’t the pieces have to be replaced?” Penumbra asked. “Even a Techpriest can’t summon parts out of thin air, can they?”

“He’s a Dark Acolyte,” interjected both Empyra and Neuron simultaneously.

Most of the ponies seemed surprised that Empyra had corrected the unicorn, and she lifted her head from her food and sneered. “Use the stallion’s correct title. It is disrespectful to speak of him improperly, as if such a distinction is beneath you.”

Dusk paused as if he wanted to say something, but instead shook his head and left. Neuron quirked an eyebrow, as Empyra’s reason was not at all why she was so pedantic about the matter, but then she shrugged and followed her Lieutenant out.

Penumbra Shard seemed annoyed at Empyra’s response, if not intimidated by the larger mare. “I was under the impression you Bloodborne didn’t care so much for abstract formalities like that… especially not for STALLIONS.”

“It is only very recently that your kind could speak to mine without having your throat ripped out, so I will forgive your ignorance,” the thestral queen growled, snapping up a canteen and guzzling the contents. Then she tossed the empty container away into the debris pile providing access to the room. “Do not make such an error again.”

“As you say, Queen,” Penumbra drawled, her emphasis on the word very nearly approaching sarcasm. “I have a request to make of your Highness. I would like you to dismiss Isabelle and allow her to join Lieutenant Blade’s command.”

Empyra stopped eating and raised her head, blood dripping from her chin. “And why should I?” she asked suspiciously. “You travel with a tech-cultist, the most skilled infiltrator in the army, and a mutant warrior who can stun your foes with a glance; what great need have you for Bane? And why do you make this request and not your commander?”

“The Lunar Guard are not so well-versed in our utility,” Penumbra said with a regretful shrug.

“Of course not; you hide your powers from everyone,” Empyra sneered. “When I asked Bane what skills she had to offer the cauldron, she mewled about listening to spirits. It was not until she was dragged out here, under Luna’s moon, that I learn these spirits are daemonic raptors and the living dead.” She narrowed her eyes at the pale mare and made a rumbling noise deep in the back of her throat. Isabelle shrank back, shivering.

“Yes, well…” Penumbra coughed into a hoof, “that aside, I feel that she could be of more use to Lieutenant Blade than your Highness. Especially if the machine he seeks is broken. She can summon team of dead greenskins to haul it wherever it needs to go.”

“I have-” Isabelle’s creaking voice piped up, but was almost immediately silenced by a growl from the thestral queen.

“Quiet, Bell,” Empyra snarled before slamming her wings on the table and lifting her head up. “I will grant your request, Moon Mage, if you will grant me one boon: tell me what your commander seeks to do with the humans’ machine.”

Penumbra blinked and cocked her head to the side. “It’s some chore the humans demanded of him. He’s to haul the rig out to a particular spot in the desert for them to recover and use. For mining purposes, I assume.”

Empyra stared at the unicorn silently for several seconds, and then turned her head. “Beryl!”

The smaller mare jumped to attention.

“Return Miss Bane to her room. And her guards.” Empyra then turned to look at Nacht. “You, little one. Take your unicorn and your stallion and begone.”

“What? I thought we had a deal!” Penumbra asked, sounding affronted.

“I’m not her stallion,” Gloom complained.

“And don’t call me ‘little one,’” Nacht added with a grumble.

“I do not grant favors to liars,” Empyra hissed at Penumbra. “You speak falsehoods like you hardly care whether I believe you or not. It’s as insulting as it is treacherous.” She lifted a wing and pointed it at the hole in the wall. “Now LEAVE, wretch, and never show your face before me ever again. The Acolyte’s favor is wasted on your kind.”

Penumbra bristled angrily, and her eyes darted back and forth as she considered retaliation. Beryl walked by her and tapped Isabelle on the shoulder, nudging her head in the direction of her temporary barracks. Gloom Fang and Nacht stood up to leave, although they hesitated when Penumbra’s nose scrunched up and a lash of energy ran up her horn.

“As you will it, QUEEN,” Penumbra drawled, quickly adopting a sour, but much calmer expression. She walked up the pile of debris to leave the room, tossing her mane over her shoulder as she left.

Empyra watched the treacherous unicorn descend out of her sight. She was soon followed by the small black mare and the four-eyed stallion, both of them far less bitter and glad to be leaving. Then Beryl led the other unicorn, visibly sulking, out of the gaping hole in the wall to return to what passed for her quarters.

Empyra lifted up a water jug with her wing and splashed her face, quickly washing off some of the grisly remains of her meal. Then she launched herself up into the air, flying up through the hole in the structure and into the night sky.

Ork outpost – designation epsilon 6
Scrappa’s pitz

“So what do you think? Will that really work?” Dusk asked anxiously.

Gears was handling a small control board and carefully soldering wires into place on the underside. Cabling ran from the panel – barely more than a foot long – and down into an open panel on a large, scorched platform. That platform was the top of a chassis larger than a tank’s, with a pair of massive treads and an enormous drill hanging off the back. One corner of the vehicle had different mining machinery for grinding up rock, while another corner – the corner that normally held the operator – was caved in like a discarded beverage can. Scavenged lumens strung across tall spires lit the yard, albeit poorly, allowing Dusk and the other thestrals to watch.

“There’s no need to worry. The Acolyte knows his craft well,” came a voice from above the Lieutenant, “if the task was impossible he would have told you from the start. He does not like to waste time.”

Dusk’s eye twitched, and he cast an irritated glare back over his shoulder. Neuron Dialect was watching the site from high above within a crevice in a stone spire, but there were several Bloodborne in the scrapyard as well. This was hardly unreasonable, given that they had just captured the base, but not all of the mares were waiting to see if Gear Works would still have time to fix their equipment.

“I think I know the guy a LITTLE better than you, thanks,” Dusk replied, turning away.

“You’re welcome,” she said, missing or ignoring the context of his “thanks” entirely. “My name is Starblight.”

Dusk was going to explain very curtly that he hadn’t asked, but elected for a slightly less hostile response. “That a villain’s name if I’ve ever heard one.”

The mare laughed, which wasn’t exactly the response he was going for. “You know… not all of us in the tribe restrict ourselves to the whole… ‘breeding stud’ arrangement in choosing a mate,” she said, her voice lowering to a near-purr. “I’m quite interested in the more independent stallions. Courtship, romance, things like that are quite intriguing to me.”

Several of the other mares nearby perked their ears, easily overhearing the conversation. Neuron did too, for that matter, and Dusk could swear he could see a glint of bright red light from the shadows where she stood sentinel.

Before Dusk’s irritation could get the better of him, the bat ponies all detected something approaching overhead. A moment’s concentration picked it out as another bat pony: a large one. Empyra.

Dusk’s ears pinned back as he looked up and watched the mare descend. “Did she come to see us off or something?”

The Queen of the Bloodborne swooped down and landed atop the drill mounting, her huge wings blowing a substantial wind over the rig platform. All the Bloodborne stood up as Empyra landed, thankfully pre-empting more of Starblight’s tedious flirting, but Dusk remained seated. Gear Works diverted a single optic light to tracking her while he worked. After she landed she did not interrupt, so he went back to sealing the control panel’s casing.

“This should serve as a rudimentary control interface,” Gear Works announced, turning to face Dusk with the panel in his servo pincer. “I believe the rig only needs to be refueled and then it should be fully mobile.”

Dusk breathed a heavy sigh of relief that shifted into a grateful smile.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll leave the refueling to you, Lieutenant,” Gears said before turning to face the mare perched behind him. “Queen Empyra, I take it you wished to see me?”

“Yes. Come.” She waved a wing away from the scrap pits. “I wish to talk.” Then she glanced up at Starblight. “Warriors, you will remain here and keep our guests here until I return. No eavesdroppers.”

“Understood,” Gear Works said immediately, before Dusk could voice a question or protest. “Lieutenant, I will return shortly.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute!” the Lunar Lieutenant objected, jumping to his hooves. “What’s this about? We need him here!”

Empyra scowled at him. “Our conversation is not for you. Your companions are here. Get to work and leave us be.” From the edge of the scrapyard Penumbra, Nacht, and Gloom Fang cautiously approached, having taken a longer route than the thestral queen.

Empyra dropped down from the rig platform, landing on the scorched hull of a Trukk that had been torn in half. She hopped off and started walking into a ravine full of trash, where the Meks had discarded the materials too shoddy even for them. Gear Works took the time to climb down more carefully, but then trotted up to join her. Dusk fumed silently as they left, weighing whether to chase after them and risk another fight but ultimately deciding against it.

Neuron Dialect remained where she was overlooking the yards, her eyes a pair of red pinpricks in the darkness. They watched the ponies depart in silence, and then, for but a moment, the lights flickered.

“I doubt that tech-clergy are allowed to choose their associates when sent to war, so it would be rash of me to judge you by the company you’ve brought with you, Acolyte. You should know these are dangerous and treacherous ponies you march with.”

Empyra kept her voice low as she walked ahead of Gear Works, leading the cyborg stallion through the muck and debris that littered the path. Discarded oil and bits of metal were everywhere, and while the smaller equine tried to avoid the detritus the queen didn’t seem to care as her hooves were covered in filth.

“The Moon Mage, Shard. That one is a liar. Not a very good one, but well-practiced, at least. Her intentions are hidden deep, but she does not conceal her contempt.” Empyra scowled, and her lips rose to expose rows of very long, sharp teeth. “She is also quite powerful. I can smell the dark magic on her. There is little scent of death to match; she does not kill often. Better to conceal her strength, I suppose.”

Gear Works listened intently, speeding up a bit to walk alongside the mare.

“The others are… odd. The dumb one is very pretty, at least. I would have liked to take him for myself, but you may have need of him.” A wing shifted under Empyra’s head, and the talon on the peak scratched at her chin thoughtfully. “There is a curious smell, amongst the heavy scent of death around them. A… power that is unique, yet somehow familiar…”

Then she turned her head to look down at the Dark Acolyte. “They are a treacherous lot. The small one and the mutant are limited by their feeble intellect, but the other two thestrals are more cunning. They are very dangerous, and I do not believe they are out here to do the apes’ bidding.”

“Extremely perceptive,” Gear Works said, slightly awed.

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Affirmative, although it was a struggle to acquire that data. It is as you say: this is no mission sanctioned by the Company. We’re here to recover some artifact of theirs,” Gears sighed. “The humans don’t know it exists, but perhaps you’ve heard of it. The Element of Terror.”

Empyra stopped walking. Gears stopped next to her, staring up into the mare’s bright red eyes. The eyes narrowed.

“They’re hunting for… that? I see. Thralls of the Moon Mages, then,” she snorted.

“They are more than that. That smell you detected, they’re…”

Gears briefly stopped to consider his options, wondering if he should really reveal such a secret to Empyra. He owed the bat ponies nothing, of course, and he never promised to keep it a secret. It WAS dangerous knowledge, however, and he had to consider what would happen if the more impetuous Elements of Destruction learned he was sharing it behind their backs.

Empyra squinted into the aqua-colored eye lights as if trying to decode his thoughts. Then her eyes widened, and she recoiled. It seemed Gears wouldn’t have to explain it after all.

“The Elements of Destruction! THAT’S the smell! By the moon, I never thought it was possible!” She gaped in shock before her expression hardened. “Those other thestrals have consumed the Elements! THAT was the source of the mutant’s power! Then that means the Moon Mages are gathering them? For what purpose?”

“It is Lieutenant Blade’s task, not Shard’s. He wishes to keep it safe from the enemies of the 38th Company,” Gears explained.

Empyra’s expression shifted into a repulsed frown. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you?”

“… I have my doubts,” Gear Works admitted. Then the larger pony suddenly placed a wing on his back.

“Acolyte. Leave them,” Empyra said, her eyes hard and her expression grim. “You’ve served their profane purposes and suffered under their lies long enough, and now they have the machine they needed for their objective. Join my cauldron for the remainder of our deployment. You will be under my protection, and serve a better cause than the scheming of dark sorceresses.”

Gears looked up at her, and then bowed his head. “Thank you, Queen. I am very happy you would offer me such a thing…”

She frowned and lifted her wing. “But you decline.”

“Affirmative. I cannot disobey my mission parameters under the current circumstances. Protocol demands I continue to serve, for now.”

“Is that all?” Empyra sneered at him. “You’re going to serve the whims of a treacherous witch and her thestral lackeys because defying them would break some pirate’s RULES? You take your duty seriously, to your credit, but this is something different. Your judgment is better than this, Acolyte.”

“You overestimate me,” Gears replied, “but… you’re right, that is not all. The Lieutenant. He’s… He’s my friend.”

Empyra arched an eyebrow.

“And despite… everything, I still believe in him.”

Empyra arched her other eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Blade does not fight for Shard or the Cult of Lunar Ascendance. I trust that much. He does not want the Element of Terror to serve the enemies of Equestria.”

“All right, I take it back. Your judgment is terrible,” Empyra sighed, lifting her muck-covered hoof and patting Gears on the head condescendingly. “Nothing good will come of this. The Elements of Destruction are so named because they are a terrible, cursed weapon.”

“It is my current hypothesis that you possess the Element of Carnage,” Gears said.

“That is how I know,” the queen snorted, walking around Gears to face back toward the captured camp. “Our tribe’s history of the cult of Lunar Ascendance is ancient and incomplete, but it has always brought more tragedy than glory. So it is with the Elements, too. My advice is to leave it buried, and ideally seal up your companions with it.”

“Perhaps I can affect that outcome. But only if I press on,” Gear Works replied. “Nonetheless, thank you for your consideration and for your counsel, Queen. I am honored.”

“Sure you are,” the larger pony snorted, walking toward the camp. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back to your wretched ‘friends.’”

“Before we do I would like to ask a question, Queen. About the Element of Carnage.”

Empyra stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her expression inscrutable. “The Element of Carnage is the Bloodeborne’s greatest secret, Acolyte. I think you know enough about it as it is.”

“A trade, then? I believe I have data that would be of interest to you.” The cyborg stallion walked over in front of the other pony eagerly.

“Tch! You know exactly how to get the better of me, don’t you,” she said with a sly smile. “Very well. Out with it.”

“There is another creature who hunts for the Element of Terror, or at least seeks to stop us from reaching it. Banshee, an alicorn thestral,” Gear Works whispered.

Empyra perked immediately. “A what? You’re being stalked by a baticorn?”

“Chirocorn,” Gears corrected.

“…… Yes, that is a much better name for it.”

“I don’t know how she ascended, but she is very hostile to Chaos and the Lunar Guard. I only know that she uses the name and face of a mare who is supposed to be dead: Banshee, the pony who was supposed to wield the Element of Terror. She also purports to be the last surviving member of something called ‘the Haunt,’ although I do not know the significance of this.”

“That is a very old bat pony tribe. One of the six to fall into the clutches of the Moon Mages and participate in the creation of the Elements of Destruction, if I’m not mistaken,” Empyra scratched at her chin again. “I didn’t know they had been wiped out. Or nearly so, depending on whether this creature is who they say. This is a fine morsel indeed, Acolyte! You never disappoint! Now ask your question. The answer is yours, although you may not breathe a word of it to anyone else.”

Gear Works took a deep breath to bolster his courage. “If you are the Element of Carnage, and presumably possessed its power for all of the last year, how did a single human soldier defeat you?”

Empyra’s expression soured considerably, and Gears flinched. She glared silently for a few seconds, but then sighed and massaged her forehead with her wing.

“The Element of Carnage is… different, I suppose. I cannot just turn it on and off, or trigger it like the mutant can his freezing stare. Its power is always with me and always working, but it is… inconsistent.” She turned her head away to stare at the moon, looking embarrassed. “The Element of Carnage must be fed. It demands blood. Death. Violence. It may also require actual food; moon knows my appetite is voracious whenever its magic surges.”

“The Element requires combat to work?” Gears asked, fascinated.

“It’s more like its power increases,” Empyra shrugged. “I was always larger than my subjects, stronger, and healed more quickly, but as the blood frenzy takes me and the corpses pile up, the effects increase.” She grimaced. “According to the history of the tribe, it was not always so dormant. Perhaps its power simply waned with the passing centuries, or with the transfer from one pony to another, or from so many years of peace. It had been a long time since I’d fought any real combat when I faced that smarmy monkey in the caverns, and the Element’s power failed me. It will not happen again.”

Gear Works looked the thestral over while she fumed. She did seem bigger than the last time they met, and her teeth especially were larger and more noticeably jagged now. He chose not to voice these observations.

“I have recovered much of its reputed strength through the battles I’ve had with the Orks,” Empyra continued, “but as its power grows so does the bloodthirst. I can feeling a gnawing hunger within me that demands killing, Acolyte. Not just meat or blood, but souls. I can tolerate it, for now. But I do not know the Element’s limits. Or if it has any.”

“You said the Element of Carnage was transferred from one pony to another? How is that facilitated?” Gear Works asked.

Empyra fixed him with a cool stare. “You already got your question, Acolyte. Come, I think your treacherous allies should have found some fuel by now.” She began trotting back toward the captured base.

“Of course, Queen. As you wish,” the cyborg stallion conceded immediately. “Thank you for your time, and for aiding my attached combat group.”

“Undeserving as they are,” Empyra mumbled, turning her head and slowing her pace.

“… Is something wrong?” Gears asked, stopping.

Empyra sniffed the air, and her ears pivoted back and forth. Her eyes searched the top of the ravine, watching carefully for any glint of light or hint of movement. “… No. Let us return, Acolyte. You still have a long road ahead of you…”

Author's Note

Once again, Friendship triumphs
Chapter art drawn by Blazing Stred, while the delightful portrait below is by Loom!