Sarge's Tale, Part 8

"A High-Bred trick!" the beast-man growled, hefting his massive club with casual menace. "I am Toa!" He slapped his chest with the flat of his hand, the blow like a thunder clap. "Prince of the Keuakepo. I will crush you!"

Sarge casually shifted the carbine to her left hand and drew forth the M201 grenade launcher she had tucked over her shoulder, she said nothing, but thumbed the safety off. She kept the rest of the odd assortment in her peripheral vision, deciding that the L'na was the greatest unknown factor in the fight and resolved to cut it down with the carbine after firing on the Churl.

The Klik changed her mind slightly as the one with the circular saw fired it up to a high pitched whine, and the right hand of the mechanical retracted as a chain-saw appendage emerged, spinning and grinding. The other raised its arm and a small weapon aperture popped up as two coils emerged from its shoulders and started arcing electricity over its head.

The L'na was actually the first to break the stare down between the other four. "Peace. We are all drawn to this place; I do not believe there is a deception on the smaller two-legs' part." The creature's voice was a growl, like a great cat purring, carrying a male aspect to its inflection. "I am Apenimon. I came because of the voices, and I have lost much in the journey. I would not see more needless destruction."

The Klik looked to each other, and their various weapons retracted simultaneously. The taller, still swaying back and forth, spoke in a monotone voice that carried a slight reverberation as if through a speaker. "I seek the source of the transmissions you call voices. I am 201132, but in the manner of flesh-designations I am Roller."

The other Klik spoke after, a growling, clanging sound like loose bolts were rattling around its jagged maw. "Buzzzzzzzzzz Saaaw."

"Apropos," Sarge said beneath her breath. "I am Sergeant Alisa McGraw, Sarge will do. Did you hear the voices, Toa?" she lowered the grenade launcher only slightly.

"The ancestors called to me! The ancient ones spoke! I followed…" with that the Churl hesitated for long moments then continued, not boastful, but quiet, which still trembled the air like an avalanche. "If I return the kapu shall declare me king…"

The Churl had lost his father before coming here, Sarge mused, thinking of her unit destroyed.

Above the converging group appeared a glowing image, each saw something different but knew it not. To the apoc-humans it appeared as a black and yellow triangular bio-hazard symbol, known and respected for the life altering power is represented. To the L'na it appeared as a glowing troika of intertwining color and light, a pure representation of magic and its collective harmony with Ai, the L'na home world. To the Klik, they beheld three interlocking bands of gears working in perfect synchronicity, smooth, effortless: the perfection of the Great Machine.

A voice that seemed to emanate from their very bones rattled the company, causing each to shudder with the power it carried and represented. "I am Trionus, and you are my chosen champions. For you gathered here had the strength and resolve to heed my call and come forth."