Grimoires and Gunsmoke

Elijah gazed at the soft hues of dawn that painted the morning sky. It was a serene backdrop to the stark reality on the ground as four GMVs, bristling with weaponry and equipment, made their way across the hilly plains. Each bump and dip was a reminder of the rugged and untamed landscape they found themselves in, where everything they passed was as novel as the next.

The night before had been a strategic dance of observation and patience. Hidden away in their makeshift camp, they had deployed drones to keep a vigilant eye on the enemy army encampment. The small, buzzing machines, almost invisible in the night sky, relayed valuable information about enemy movements and reactions.

As the reports came in, the ODA team listened intently as sadistic smiles played on their lips. The enemy was caught off guard by the 75th Ranger Regiment’s sudden and brutal raids on their fortresses and found themselves thrown into disarray. Their commanders quickly found themselves face to face with a dilemma in which they had to decide which fortress stood and which one fell.

However, contrary to what NATO's unified command had predicted, the armies of the Empire instead chose to make the worst possible decision after allowing precious hours to tick by, muddled by indecision. Instead of sacrificing one or two fortresses, the commanders of the Empire finally resolved their indecisiveness and opted to split their forces in an attempt to support all four beleaguered locations.

As the GMVs trundled across the landscape, the members of the ODA team couldn't help but let out bursts of laughter after hearing the AC-130 gunners over the tactical network. The bastards were cackling each time they unleashed hell upon the legions of men, beasts, and equipment marching towards the besieged fortresses.

“You think the Rangers killed everything?” Elijah asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Coleman peered out into the distance and eyed the rising plumes of smoke that painted against the morning sky. "Probably, but I think those AC-130s pretty much cleared the board," Coleman replied, turning his head to relax again.

With the patrols sufficiently preoccupied or outright destroyed, the Special Forces team could finally fulfill the objectives succinctly outlined in their operational charter: no-holds-barred unconventional warfare.

In other words, the ODA team was about to engage in the kind of operations that fell into a gray area. Instead of being a blunt object and subsequently thrown at an objective to destroy it, their mission was a lot less defined by military doctrine. For now, they were more or less tasked to map enemy territory. But… if the opportunity ever presented itself, they would be cut loose and do what the Army Special Forces were initially designed to do and be an absolute MENACE in the enemy's rear.

Gather intelligence, disrupt enemy supply lines, subvert the civilian population to turn them against the local regime, and destabilize command structures through any means necessary.

As the team's GMVs maneuvered through the soft rolling hills, they came across a dirt road that told a brutal story. The scene was a macabre tableau of destruction and death as bodies of various beings—humanoids in armor, colossal beasts of burden-carrying carts imbued with magic, and war-bred monsters—were strewn across the road, dead or dying.

“God damn…” Bennett cringed as he did his best to avoid the bodies and… body parts littering the area. “You’d think they'd have learned not to bunch up like sitting ducks when they first invaded."

Perched in the turret, Elijah surveyed the scene with a mix of professional detachment. "Yeah, fucking sucks to be caught out in the open like that," he said, his voice carrying a flat and uncaring tone as he adjusted the turret. The man kept the heavy machine gun trained on a giant beast still moving while he scanned the area to ensure there wouldn't be any nasty surprises.

As the team found a gap in the enemy lines and slipped through, they entered deep behind enemy territory. This was where their true work began.

But when it was their turn to cross the road finally, the GMV jolted as they ran over something… or someone. The sickening crunch and the violent bump prompted Elijah's pocket to stir.

“Wuh….” Yana’s diminutive form emerged from Elijah's pocket as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. But as she turned around, she nearly gasped at the sight of the destruction. "Ooooh! Excellent! Truly excellent!!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of glee and awe.

"Did you do this?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Elijah with an expectant look.

Elijah, surveying the scene with a practiced eye, shook his head. "No, I didn't. But, uh, things belonging to my government did," he explained simply.

Yana's excitement seemed to double at this revelation. "Excellent! I knew my investment would bear fruit!" she flourished as she climbed out and buzzed around.

In a swift, graceful motion, Yana extended her arms as her wings started beating rapidly while she elevated high into the sky. With her tiny form becoming a focal point, the fairy began to chant in a strange and ethereal language that sounded almost musical and otherworldly to all but Elijah, who furrowed his brows at the familiar yet alien cadence.

Her voice was beautiful and haunting as it carried across the field of death. "Oh, spirits of the fallen, you who linger in the shadow of betrayal," she sang, her voice echoing mystically. "Your false gods have forsaken you, leaving you to fester and rot in this mortal coil. Come to me, find solace in my embrace, for I offer you a place in my realm."

A strange ethereal energy rose from the bodies scattered across the battlefield. It swirled around Yana, forming a vortex of shimmering light and shadow.

The air around them seemed to shimmer as Yana's chant continued, her words weaving a spell of enticement and empathy. Slowly, a few barely visible wisps of light answered her call, drifted toward the fairy’s diminutive form, and swirled around her, forming a contradictory vortex of shimmering light and shadow. Even a few dying people were drawn in by her enchanting song and drifted over after releasing their final breaths. Their spirits joined the swirling dance of energy around the fairy.

As Yana's chant continued, her voice became a beacon for the restless souls strewn across the battlefield. "It matters not what form you held in life, be you weak or powerful, beggar or king," she proclaimed, her voice resonating with an otherworldly power. "All are equal before the eyes of High Judge Yanaiyániuoa. Shed your mortal bonds, discard your corrupted idols, and ascend to a realm where your essence will find true equality and peace."

Her words seemed to resonate with a deeper truth, echoing through the very essence of the deceased. More souls, drawn to the promise of liberation and equality, began to release themselves from their mortal shells. The energy around Yana grew denser and more vibrant, a stunning display of light and spectral beauty as more spirits joined her call.

The air around them seemed to shimmer as Yana's chant continued, her words weaving a spell of enticement and empathy. Slowly, a strange ethereal energy slowly rose from the bodies scattered across the battlefield. It swirled around Yana, forming a vortex of shimmering light and shadow.

The entire convoy had come to a complete stop as they gawked at the spectacle before them. The soldiers in the convoy exchanged bewildered looks, their expressions a mix of confusion and awe.

“Does anyone else have a visual on this?” Their local squad network crackled to life. “What the fuck is happening? Should we bug out?”

No one could understand the words Yana was saying, but they sure as hell could see the vortex floating just above them.

Coleman grabbed his pushed-to-talk while he continued to stare at the mesmerizing scene. “I uh… Hold one.” The team leader said hesitantly, his eyes still fixed on the spectacle. "It's uh, it's our... 'guest'," he explained with a mix of confusion and reluctance in his voice. "Seems like she's doing something with the dead."

The network remained silent for a moment, the other units processing the information. "Roger that," came the eventual response, tinged with disbelief.

Elijah, meanwhile, experienced a sensation that was both alien and intimate. As the energy swirled around Yana, he felt a faint echo of it being drawn into him. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible feeling but unmistakably real. There was a tether, a connection between him and his patron, through which some essence of the absorbed souls seemed to flow into him.

He cringed at the unnerving sensation. The mystical energy was foreign to his nature, and its passage through the tether created a discomfort that was hard to ignore. Yet, as much as he wanted to recoil from it, a part of him understood this connection was an integral aspect of his bond with Yana.

The rest of the convoy, oblivious to Elijah's internal struggle, remained fixated on the display. They muttered among themselves, trying to understand what they were witnessing. "What the hell is she doing?" one of them whispered, his voice laced with a mixture of fear and fascination.

As the ritual reached its zenith, Yana gently descended back to the ground, her wings fluttering softly, leaving the battlefield eerily silent. The ODA team, on the other hand, had remained still for a few moments, processing the otherworldly event.

“Mmmm…. Delicious.” Yana licked her lips as she took a seat on Elijah’s shoulders. “The usurpers are as wasteful as ever it seems.”

A mix of skepticism and curiosity clouded Elijah’s eyes as he watched Yana. He glanced down at his hand, the same spot where she had 'branded' him, while the strange sensation lingered.

"Did you... eat their souls, like that one scientist guy back home?" Elijah asked, his tone cautious yet inquisitive. The notion of consuming souls was unsettling, but he needed to understand what had just transpired.

Yana scoffed at the question, her expression one of mild amusement mixed with a touch of annoyance. "No, I did not 'eat' their souls," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. "What do you take me for? An idiot?” She said, waving her hand dismissively. “All I did was just offer some guidance. These souls were merely ushered back into the cycle, to be reborn or to do whatever it is they wish to do next."

One leg crossed the other as her wings fluttered gently. "I merely took a slice of the power they had accumulated over their lifetimes as a form of payment for guiding them. It's a fair exchange, in my opinion."

Looking at Elijah more annoyedly, the fairy continued, "The fool back in your world, on the other hand, I destroyed his soul because he willingly gave me permission to." She harrumphed and looked away.

Elijah scratched his beard, considering Yana's explanation. The concept of the soul was far beyond his understanding, but he wanted to try and grasp the basics. "So, can all gods or whatever do that?" he asked, his tone indicating a mix of curiosity and concern. "Guide or destroy souls, I mean."

The violet glow made it difficult to see, but the goddess clearly rolled her eyes in a clear sign of exasperation. "No, not all 'gods' can do that," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. “True gods like myself, that lazy, dusty old ball of light and a few others who don't even bother with mortals, can do stuff with souls. But most of these mortal pretenders?” She gestured around towards the field. “They lack the power or the inclination to do anything but hoard and slowly nibble away at a fraction of the power.”

Having overheard the conversation, both Coleman and Bennet couldn’t help but give the little goddess a complicated look. The concept of supernatural beings talking about souls as tangible objects was a lot to process.

With a shake of his head, Coleman dismissed the bizarre supernatural experience and grabbed his push to talk. "Alright, we're good. Let's keep it moving," he ordered.

Turning back to face the road, Bennett let out a nervous sigh and threw the vehicle back into drive. He followed the vehicle in front of him as they made their way through the somber aftermath of the battle. The convoy decided to put this little fiasco in the back of their mind as they resumed their mission, winding through the death and debris left in the wake of the AC-130’s intense bombardment.

And as they drove, Coleman couldn't help but look over his shoulder at the carnage they had just passed. The scene was a stark reminder of modern warfare's power and efficiency in contrast to their enemy's full-blown fantasy elements. It was clear they hadn’t even considered the possibility of not dominating the air, considering how clustered they were. Coleman thought they couldn’t even fully grasp the concept of long-range ordinance and waited for what they must have assumed was a strange dragon to get close enough to return fire with magic.

But, he glanced up towards Yana, who was perched nonchalantly on Elijah's shoulders; he felt something foreboding about the presence of the little goddess. She was both whimsical and terrifying in equal measure, and there was an unknown yet powerful… aura… about her that was fascinating and unsettling. Coleman knew in his gut that Yana's presence signified something profound, but whether that would lead to fortune or misfortune was yet to be determined.

To keep himself steady, Coleman held onto the frame of the GMV as they rolled over a berm and drove back into open territory. It was so… beautiful and serene that it made one almost forget why they were there and what circumstance they were in. If he could compare it to anything, it would have been a wonderful blend of the northern plains of China with strange and wondrous mountains flanking them on one side, coupled with the warm, temperate climate of the Mediterranean.

Nevertheless, this beautiful and strange new world couldn't stop Coleman's mind from churning. The words the fairy used weren't lost on him, and they painted a picture of a conflict that far exceeded the imaginations of even the highest echelons of command. The terms' usurpers' and 'mortal pretenders' hinted at a deeper, more ancient struggle that they may have stumbled into, and it raised critical questions about their role in this world.

Were they being put into a position where they were going to have to pick a side? Or perhaps that their mere association with Yana had already dictated their side.

Coleman shook his head as the convoy moved towards the horizon and refocused on the mission. These were questions for his superiors; he was just another cog in the machine, and it was about time he started acting like it. They had supply lines to disrupt, outposts to harass, and chaos to sow.

-

“Talarion…” A voice called out in the periphery of Talarion’s consciousness.

But no matter what he did or where he looked, he couldn't find the voice as the monstrous black, wingless birds descended upon them again. They were not creatures of flesh and blood but of twisted iron, a horror unlike anything he had ever seen or imagined.

The deafening thumps and the overwhelming downwash these monstrosities produced filled his senses. He could almost feel the hot gusts of wind on his skin, the vibrations shaking his very soul. But even more terrifying was the horrendous buzzing noise, a sound that heralded death and destruction.

He couldn't help but clutch his ears when he saw fire erupting from the sides of these strange birds, taking souls like the reaper of death. Each burst of flame was accompanied by a harrowing sound, a cacophony that mowed down his comrades with ruthless efficiency. Men and women, warriors and mages of the Empire, were cut down like wheat before the scythe. Some were riddled with holes, turning into a morbid pile of flesh, while others were literally cleaved in half, their bodies falling apart in a gruesome display of brutality.

Talarion had tried to run, he tried to escape the relentless assault of these wingless birds, but his legs wouldn't move. He was rooted to the spot, forced to witness the carnage unfolding around him. The screams of his fallen comrades echoed in his ears, a haunting chorus that seemed to condemn him for his earlier skepticism and inaction.

“Talarion, wake up.” The voice called again, more urgently this time. It was a familiar voice, one that he recognized even in his panicked state. But the grip of fear was strong, and he struggled to break free from the terror’s unyielding hold.

And if the horrible buzzing of death wasn’t enough, ropes were suddenly thrown from the sides of these black, iron beasts as men clad in green slid down before their black staves barked with fire as well. These were not the soldiers of any army he had seen in these barbaric lands; they were something else entirely, something more deadly and efficient.

Everywhere Talarion looked, the scene repeated itself. These green-clad warriors ruthlessly laid waste to anyone and anything visible. They were like a force of nature, unstoppable and unrelenting.

It wasn’t until that stupid Stymph, with his annoying stupid teal plumage that kept poking Talarion in the face, finally grabbed his arm, yanking him out of his daze. Talarion's body was suddenly jolted into action as Ryffka took him away from the scene of carnage, snapping whatever mental bonds had been binding his legs.

The sounds of battle and the hiss of the strange weapons were a chaotic backdrop as Ryffka dragged him away from his inevitable death. Every step was a struggle against the overwhelming desire to-

“You damned Elf! Wake up!” A sudden slap rang across Talarion's face, breaking through his nightmare.

An involuntary, high-pitched shriek that was embarrassingly unbecoming of a seasoned warrior of the Auxiliary Corp left Talarion's mouth as his eyes snapped open.

Fueled by fear and panic, Talarion's arms flailed wildly as he rolled away from the Stymph. As he rolled, the Elf slammed hard against a tree, causing the man to let another embarrassing yelp out as he cradled his head. Without thinking, Talarion curled up, covering his head with his hands, bracing for an attack that wouldn't come.

"Stop it, Talarion! It's me, Ryffka!" the Stymph's face was a mix of disappointment and disbelief while his voice was concerned. "You were having a nightmare. You're safe now!”

Ryffka then furrowed his brow as he looked to the side in contemplation. “Well… as safe as we can be under these circumstances."

Looking around, Talarion slowly uncurled from his defensive position, his gaze following Ryffka's. They were nestled in a small grove while the distant billows of smoke from the fortress painted a grim picture against the sky.

"We can't stay here," Ryffka said before a screech of wyverns on patrol resounded overhead. The Stymphs' eyes shot up before scanning their surroundings with a mix of caution and fear on his face. "The fortress has fallen, and with us fleeing... we're deserters now."