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Far away on the planet Soul Star, home of the military faction…
Blue Rain
They came dressed for a waltz with havoc, in sleek bulletproof tactical gear patterned in the cracked hues of Ashdusk camo with its jagged black veins, deep grey shadows, & dust-drowned browns, made for crawling through the black sands of the Jade Badlands where the humidity was punishing & the wind cut like razors.
Chimera — the king of thieves & now nightclub czar of The Gallows Fruit, which was a red-lit den of silk, bondage, and broken people of every stripe — clicked open his Witch Fang lighter, sculpted like a horned demoness. A hiss of witch fire sprang up from it, emerald and alive.
“Cost me about 950 and a favor I still owe a blind jinni,” he muttered, not lighting a damn thing to smoke on. "Witch fire, doll. Lasts fifteen years. The more premium models until your soul gives out, I've heard.”
Nathara — hobbit, freelance scout, & hardened Ranger — adjusted the strap of her sidearm and rolled her eyes. “You gonna kiss that thing or focus up?” Her voice was soft edges over steel.
The air choked on heat and rot. Ahead lay the Egyptian blue stone arch of an uncovered temple. The Chapel of Lycaon, ruled by the Velth’ra-Duun, Lovecraftian deities that whispered in long-dead tongues through time-splintered bone.
Then, abruptly, the sickening shriek of beasts ripped through the haze. Followed by a scream that didn’t belong to anything human. Three Tandalos wyrms ragged with hides of tumored scales tore apart the corpse of a Shantak bird, its feathers the color of bruised metal, its beak twisted in death. These creatures were mutated abominations, werewolf-headed dragons with eyes like milky eclipses. All the while, the haunting screeching and layered howls of the wyrms resonated like some unnerving curse into the stale desert air.
Chimera flinched. “Jesus Tap Dancing Christ... they’re fighting over leftovers.”
“You still think this job’s just about treasure?” Chimera whispered in an attempt to soothe his own nerves. “You ever wonder what your grandfather’s really planning to do with that damn sigil?”
She stared at him a moment. “Every day since I said yes and signed the contract for this cluster fuck.”
The Shattered Sigil was said to be an anchor, a treasure capable of birthing madness. A trinket that could bend the creatures of this corpse-bloomed wasteland to the holder’s will.

However, this kingdom of rot was to be ruled by just one soul. An eccentric old bastard with one hell of a god complex whom Nathara called Grandfather. What her grandfather was promising in exchange for that sigil was a permanent release from debt and financial anguish. Nathara was desperate & determined to survive long enough to cash out on that promise of the key to a brighter future.
Chimera glanced toward the chaos and offered a charming grin. "Reminds me of Saturday night back at the club.”
Nathara smiled back warmly and kissed Chimera’s cheek with tender affection, thankful that at least she wasn’t alone on this lunatic's errand. “If you pull any dumb antics out here, I’ll cut off your tongue and sell it for space mead.”
“Y’know,” Chimera said, his grin wobbling, “I’ve been inside strip clubs more welcoming than this place. But even still, I know we got the goods and the guts to make it out in one piece, Shorty… just breathe easy, we got this.”
Ahead, the black sand broke open like a sore. Jagged stone shimmered faintly beneath it. These were temple bones, and the yawning mouth of the ruin awaited the two Marauders like a godless invitation.
Their descent into the temple was more of a fall than a journey, with the perils of crumbling staircases, a maze-like layout, walls that periodically throbbed, & vicious skirmishes with night gaunt demons pulling them deeper. Such creatures were only known to the world thanks to the witless ramblings and hastily sketched drawings of old explorers who claimed to be lucky enough to make it back to civilization. Now Chimera & Nathara knew that those explorers weren't so insane after all.
Chimera flicked his lighter again & witch fire danced. "Let’s steal somethin’ dangerous,” he whispered.
Nathara sighed. “I’d pro’lly feel braver and bolder right now if I wasn’t so scared we’d die in this hell hole.”
Chimera, empathizing with Nathara, took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Despite the fears they both held at that moment, they pressed on with their special operation & ventured deeper into the ruin, fueled by fame, fortune, & a destiny too big to dodge.
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