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A high-pitched frequency split the thick, ozone- and oil-laden air. The sound peaked and held its tone for a few moments; began to warble dissonantly and finally dissipated into an angry sounding storm of hisses and screeches. Now that its audio-emitters and mental-capacitors were synched with the Lore Ward, 201132 (designated "Roller" by the non-Klik entities with which it had become associated over the past few cycles) forced itself to relax a bit and merely await instructions from its obvious superior.

It didn't work well; thankfully, the far smaller Roller Klik did not have to wait long...

Biotechnologica
Entry I-56-a, The Hydra Strand
Remus Nix, High-bred Exo-biologist

"Testing… testing."

"Thank goodness — seems to be working. This is Lt. Col. Remus Nix and I'm preserving this autopsy for NAU Command. 'Pretty sure it'll be important. Thankfully, I found some old celluloid cylinders in these ruins; looks like the place could'a been some sorta data center before the Event… Or maybe post-Event. I ain't sure. There are some odd… indications… that the NAU were here before — some strange recordings of the Rules & Regs on some of these cylinders, but honestly — seems a bit off to me."

"Makes the hairs on the back'a'my head stand up."

Never let it be said that the guys from Wandering Men Studios dislike giving away free stuff! Nothing could be further from the truth, in fact. We LOVE giving stuff away so much that our accountant wants to kill us - seriously.

But, we do it anyways...

So, to continue this proud tradition of self-inflicted degradation, we'd like to give you last month's newsletter today for free! Sure, it's about a month behind and you may have seen some of this already, but hey - if you want to see it when it's "hot off the presses", then simply subscribe to our newsletter today! The new issue will be out very soon and it's at least one hundred point three times (100.3x) as awesome as this one!

(honest!)

Within the Great Plains of what was once the United States a gargantuan and constant zone of Flux roils like the summer lightning storms that used to threaten the region. Externals drawn to the instability and Horrors twisted by its vary nature call the region home. Only a few Churl tribes dare to cross the region and the NAU consider it forbidden territory, so no one has detailed information about how many Horrors infest the ever-warping landscape, or what dire schemes they may be plotting.

Flux Horrors have a number of options available to them - befitting their ever-changing home and natures. Individual Flux Horrors cost more than minions from other factions, but their Soul based attacks, Draining Powers, and Condition Powers allow them to wash over their opponents like a seething tide. Players who like their battles to be more than the standard smash and bash will enjoy playing this faction.

(Click for a Flux Horrors Area Map)

Shadow flew through the air where the creature had been. He hit the ground hard and lashed out, quickly striking down the remaining undead. The swamp had grown quiet; hardly a noise could be heard. The new creature had disappeared, right in front of his eyes and Shadow had no clue where it had gone. He stood for a second, his breath haggard and sharp, weakly stretching out his senses. It seemed darker than it had been. Shadow wasn’t sure how or when that had happened, but he was fairly sure he had been the one responsible.

A light suddenly interrupted his contemplations. The L'na turned, slightly relaxed from his attack posture. This light was a familiar one. "An interesting and unseen development. Quite a few actually. I had been expecting anything of this nature." Shadow recognized the voice easily enough. It was the guide, speaking through its odd portal of light.

The Sergeant's eyes caught hold of a small amount of scree as it bounced from the unseen rim. He quickly heaved his steampack onto his shoulders, muttering curses through gritted teeth. The Corporal had traced the descent with her light, meeting the dreaded source: The white hot beam stained rows of liquid orbs and serrated fangs a lurid pale. The muscled, green forms hunched or hung from the roof, slowly scaling the rough walls. Thick, stony hides rippled as they crept to surround the alcove. A few now dropped into the murky puddle, bony claws clicked on the stones. Imprecations and howls mixed as the second firefight commenced.

Regan hurled his barrel-chested war cry as he unleashed a full load of steam-powered energy on the upper decks, clearing a large chunk of rock and beasts from their hold. The cascade of seared flesh and stone bombarded a few on the walls and floor, with a mix of further deaths and damage.

From the Journal of the L'na Dawn, Cetacious...

I am Cetacious, my people are the L'na, many of us are among you now since our worlds converged and I make my home here, in the warm waters near Battered Wreck it is a dangerous place. I am no teller of tales, but a protector, a guardian of the deeps and those that call the surface home. It is the way I have chosen. In order to fulfill that duty I must spin a tale, one that many will not find credible. But one that must be told, for the evil that dwells in the deeps is rising and the surface must be made aware.

I was out seeking a fishing skiff that had not returned with the evening tides. Now, a lone vessel in the vastness of the ocean is not any easy thing to find, but I knew her captain. A good man that fished a particular area of water I knew well. I found the remains of the vessel that morning, the red sun setting the waters a blaze with the blood that had been spilt. For blood had been in the water, among the wreckage of the skiff. The men that had been her crew were not to be seen, but the numerous sharks, long, sleek and deadly told their fate readily enough. With a mental command to their primitive brains I sent them on the scent trail of blood that did not exist.

Rain drizzled through the open crater and rubble, running its ancient tendrils into the broken slats of earth and steel. The rivulets pooled in crevices, especially at the center, a cool reflection pool over the unmarked graves of the pre-Apoc world. History had overlooked the shattered amphitheater, while a band of four high-bred took refuge underneath a large overhang, seeking shelter inside its weathered walls as the ancients had done before them. The desolation suited the troop of four, granting them a quiet reprieve from the brutal combat of the day before.