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“You evade my questions, Sprite,” growled Intrag once everyone was in a safe place. “I routed the Gamfinar jungle, burned this particular Fae hive, yet you aid me.”
“I’m simply doing our Lord’s bidding,” replied Dr. Borg.
“Your Majesty, forgive any impudence,” urged Torsko, “but I must beg you to heed my advice; do NOT trust her!”
“If you can explain why, I WILL forgive your impudence,” replied Intrag.
“I made the mistake of trusting her,” answered Torsko, “and she practically sold me out to Realmfleet!”
“‘Realmfleet!’” growled Intrag. “How is it that the Realms put aside their differences?!”
“How much do you remember before you died?” asked Torsko.
“All I can remember,” answered Intrag, “is that stupid so-called ‘message’ from the Divine Ones and knowing it to be a trick from one of the other Realms.”
“You publicly challenged the message’s authenticity,” explained Torsko, recalling history. “The Divine Ones intervened and the High Orc Chieftain, Juggshu, killed you. That’s when your wife took command of the Under-realm.”
“Juggshu killed me?!” snarled Intrag. “After all I did to make all of the Orc breeds powerful?!”
“Your wife tried everything to bring you back,” continued Torsko, “even sacrificing Juggshu for a ritual, but she still failed.”
“My ancestors were once assassins,” interjected Dr. Borg. “Your son hired one of my ancestors out to kill your wife. After the assassin completed his work and was paid, your son claimed the throne.”
“Your ancestor killed my wife?!” roared Intrag. “If this is true, you will be the one to pay their debt!”
“I invite you to make me!” challenged Dr. Borg as the two charged at each other.
“ENOUGH!” boomed a voice. A huge cloud of black mist exploded into being, knocking everyone off their feet. As they picked themselves up, the cloud parted to reveal the upper torso of a man clothed in black. He had the palest of skin and his eyes were nothing more than black orbs with mist constantly seeping out of them. He wore a hat that was simplistic in its design. Everyone stopped fighting and knelt in the man’s presence. “Dr. Cytanek Yavenag Borg is under my protection, Intrag Emboramii,” rumbled the man, “as are you.”
“Lord Oyed,” greeted Intrag. “Forgive my impudence, Oh Titan and Father of Gods! I was unaware of the Sprite’s involvement in your plans!”
“I shall overlook this for now,” answered the man, Oyed the Destroyer. “I must say, after seeing the Realms’ current state, I’m still displeased with how my children do not truly repair them.”
“So you intend to start the Final War?” asked Intrag.
“Not yet,” corrected Oyed. “Dr. Borg has not yet built our armies up to do so. The Splitters remain a problem.”
“Splitters, Oh Terrible Oyed?” quizzed Intrag.
“Those who’ve abandoned the Divine Ones and think as you do,” explained Dr. Borg. “They’re divided by Realm and are determined to claim their Realm’s ‘supremacy’.”
“However,” remarked Oyed, “they declared you weak early in their founding, Intrag.”
“…They WHAT?!” roared Intrag.
“You see the dilemma,” observed Oyed. “I need them gone.”
“My Lord, forgive me,” called Intrag, “but how will fighting your battles benefit me?”
“I offer a greater empire in the Final Age of Unity,” promised Oyed. “You will live eternally and be the undisputed ruler of the Under-realm.”
“…You can make me an immortal king?” asked Intrag. Tormo gave a sideways glance to Intrag.
“It is an immense task,” replied Oyed, “one where I cannot afford to be distracted. That’s why I need you. The Splitters must be broken.” He turned to everyone. “You must each gather those within the Splitters that do not fully agree with the organizations’ goals and bring them to our side,” he commanded. “Can you try this?”
“I’ll do more than try!” declared Intrag. “I’ll succeed!”
“Splendid,” praised Oyed. “In the meantime, I must make my presence known. A fleet of ships is coming and I must put them in their place.”
“Captain on the bridge!” called Malak as Arsha entered the bridge.
“As you were,” directed Arsha as she sat in the Captain’s chair. “Shalvey, open a channel to the fleet.”
“Channel open, Captain,” reported Shalvey.
“All ships, report status,” Arsha called over the channel.
“Regatim, standing by,” replied the Regatim’s Captain, a male Naga named Yantar.
“Morkal, standing by,” called the Morkal’s Captain, a female Troll name Gekthoo.
“Bolmola, standing by,” reported the Bomola’s Captain, a female Zephyr named Shumfam.
“Hammer of Tongu, standing by,” answered the Hammer of Tongu’s Captain, a male Sprite named Ilmar.
“Twelegar, standing by,” relayed the Twelegar’s Captain, a male Orc named Jonshu.
“Belsnath, standing by,” called the Belsnath’s Captain, an Alraune named Orchid.
“Realmtrail, standing by,” reported the Realmtrail’s Captain, a male Centaur named Lentha.
“Forge, standing by,” answered Roozay.
“Skyshell, standing by,” called the Skyshell’s Captain, Marianes’ sister, Samuje.
“Drelda, standing by,” finished the Drelda’s Captain, a male Elf/Cecaelia Blender named Antorma.
“Is this all?!” protested Roozay. “11 ships?!”
“Somehow, Realmfleet felt it couldn’t afford more,” muttered Samuje.
“I was there when the order came down,” replied Lentha. “The only reason we have 11 ships is because we’re getting help from the Divine Ones.”
“So a Wraith is so dangerous,” remarked Arsha, “it needs divine attention.”
“Evidently, yes,” answered Lentha.
“So, which Ones are coming?” asked Orchid. Five pillars of red mist, five of yellow, and one of black appearing on the Endeavor’s bridge answered her question. “All five of the Fire and Lightning Ones and one of the Ending Ones?” The mist dissipated to reveal a male Dwarf in red, Mordek, a male Elf in red, Enfor, a male Human in red, Glaktem, a male Centaur in red, Shenfia, a male Kitsune in red, Pecktar, a Dryad in yellow, Morkal, a male Cecaelia in yellow, Entralg, a female Elf in yellow, Zalkii, a male Minotaur in yellow, Oldramor, a female Centaur in yellow, Foltrim, and a female Fairy in black, Falheem. Everyone knelt in their presence.
“We have no time to stand on ceremony,” called Entralg. “We have a dark matter to discuss.”
The Captains and Divine Ones assembled in the Endeavor’s conference room. A display of the island near the eastern edge of the Over-realm’s northern continent was projected on the table. “So, what intel do we have?” asked Arsha. Enfor stepped forward.
“Dr. Borg’s small army has set up shop in a cathedral dedicated to Oyed on the island,” he began. “They’ve set up a supply chain for mana extraction from the Gamfinar jungle.”
“That’s a pretty risky move,” remarked Ilmar. “They need vessels to cross the water between the island and the continent. Skyships are too exposed and boats will be easily bombarded from the air.”
“Not to mention the dangers inside the jungle,” rumbled Gekthoo. “Carnivorous plants that would eat a person of any size, bears that will only gore you then bury you to eat later, and let’s not forget that Intrag brought a horde of Giant Spiders to colonize the jungle during the War of the Realms.”
“And the Spiders are Sentina Spiders,” shuddered Lentha. “If Intrag’s involved, he’ll definitely get them to his side.”
“The Spiders’ ancestors, yes,” countered Roozay. “But we don’t know if the modern Giant Spiders would listen to him.”
“Besides, ghosts of all types can’t really manifest outside the Under-ream,” supplied Jonshu.
“If the ghost is using Oyed’s power, it can,” corrected Mordek. “If the Spiders see him, they’ll rally to him. Their ancestors deified him and made a whole religion around his return.”
“An appearance from him of any kind will inspire the Spiders to obey him,” supplied Entralg.
“Has he attempted a dialogue with them?” asked Yantar.
“Thankfully, he has not,” answered Mordek, “and he won’t be able to do so before the fleet gets to the island.”
“So we need to keep him occupied,” mused Orchid.
“Him AND Oyed,” explained Enfor.
“Your father’s manifested?!” gulped Arsha.
“Yes,” replied Enfor. “As long as a worshipper of his makes contact, he can freely escape his prison from the After-realm’s Depths. That is why we’re going with you on this mission.”
“We’ll occupy Oyed and Intrag while the fleet destroys the cathedral,” declared Pecktar. “With any luck, Oyed will be banished back to the After-realm and Intrag’s soul will finally fade into nothingness.”
“The cathedral’s sure to have ground forces,” remarked Shumfam.
“Then we need to use drone fighters to occupy the enemy,” called Arsha, “while our own ground forces destroy the cathedral from within.”
“If they get pinned down in there,” muttered Orchid, “there’s no way out for them.”
“To ensure the Realms’ survival and to make sure the Final War does not start so soon,” remarked Mordek, “we must all be willing to sacrifice.”
“I’M the Black Divine One here,” interjected Falheem. “I’M supposed to say that when I need to. It’s been 5,000 years too long since your grim and gritty makeover, droning on about sacrifice. Unlike the mortals in this fleet, we don’t exactly have families to lose if we fail.” Mordek’s face assumed a scowl.
“I know loss, Falheem,” he growled.
“Lord Mordek’s right, Lady Falheem,” called Arsha. “we can’t afford to go through the Final War. We need to strike now before the Realms fall to Oyed’s design.”
Over in the jungle, an Elf woman ran through the trees, stopping to examine a plant that looked sickly. “That’s no good!” she griped. She ran through the trees again and found mushrooms that were liquifying. “Another Tomnar mushroom patch gone!” she grumbled. Just then, a bird flew by and tweeted something at her. It took a bit of her hair in its feet and pulled it in one direction. “Easy! Let go!” she snapped at the bird. She followed it to a clearing where a small monkey coughed. “Johgo!” she yelped as she dashed towards the monkey. The monkey opened his eyes and held his hand to the Elf’s face.
“Sorsha,” he coughed. “I don’t…I don’t think…”
“Don’t talk!” directed the Elf, Sorsha. “I’ll get you home!” She scooped the monkey, Johgo, into her arms and dashed towards a small sled. She placed him in a small basket, then grabbed the handlebars and channeled magic into the sled, making it propel itself through the jungle to a small cottage. She stopped the sled, then brought Johgo inside. A bunch of birds clustered around Johgo as Sorsha gathered healing materials. “HEY! CLEAR OFF! GIVE THE POOR GUY SOME AIR!” she shouted. The birds scattered and Sorsha got to work brewing up potions. She checked over her notes repeatedly after several failed attempts. When she made a glowing, green potion, she held the flask up to her face. “If this doesn’t work, nothing will,” she muttered grimly. She held the flask’s opening to Johgo’s mouth and tipped it so the contents came out slowly. The monkey’s eyes then went wide and he shoved the flask aside before throwing up. The bile took a dark purple color as it landed on Sorsha’s floor.
“That was disgusting!” gagged Johgo.
“What are you complaining about?” grumbled Sorsha as she sighed in relief. “You’re alive, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah, but my throat’s burning!” replied Johgo.
“You know where the water is,” answered Sorsha. Johgo clambered his way to a small water cooler and got himself a cup. He opened the tap and filled the cup, then shut the tap off and drank the water. Sorsha got out a small dome and placed it over the mess.
“I swear,” muttered Johgo, “all I did was eat a small apple and it blighted in my mouth and made me sick! Name me one piece of magic that does that!”
“Not any natural magic,” mused Sorsha as she got a reading from the small screen on the dome. Her eyes widened in fear. “…Oh my, but it IS! It’s natural magic all right, but an old form of it. A dark, powerful, angry, EVIL magic.” At that moment, she became aware of footsteps outside her cottage. Though the windows were shuttered, the shapes of human-sized spiders were seen scuttling around her home! “…He’s coming back!” realized Sorsha. “Johgo, when I’ve made a path, you make a break for your troop!”
“But, what about you?!” protested Johgo.
“I’ve got ways of getting out of this! Now get ready to go when I say so!” ordered Sorsha as she charged out of her cottage and fired concussive spells at the Giant Spiders. After a few minutes of combat, a path was cleared. “GO!” shouted Sorsha. Johgo scampered off at top speed and made his way to the canopy. After a few more minutes, the Giant Spiders surrounded Sorsha, daring her to make a move.
“Little monkey all alone!” taunted a Giant Spider.
“Sending your kid away?!” laughed another.
“We had a treaty!” snarled Sorsha. “You would leave me and my friends alone and I wouldn’t interfere in your business!”
“Like we’re going to keep a treaty with feculent monkeys,” argued a third Giant Spider.
“Spell ‘feculent’,” snarked Sorsha.
“F-E-C…” began the second Spider.
“Quiet!” snapped the third as he smacked the second’s head with his pedipalps. He turned to Sorsha. “With Intrag returning, our treaty is null and void! The Final War’s coming and there ain’t a thing you can do to stop it!”
“No, but I can make sure my faction wins!” snarled Sorsha. The Spiders laughed at that statement.
“You don’t have the firepower to do so!” taunted the first Spider.
“Doesn’t she?” asked a voice.
“Go away, boy,” hissed the first Spider, not turning around to face the voice. “Don’t interfere in matters that don’t concern you.” The voice’s owner then smacked the Spider’s rear, angering the Spider and making him turn around. His angry demeanor changed to a fearful one as he saw a Forest Dragon in humanoid form.
“Who are you calling ‘boy’?” snarled the Forest Dragon.
“Hey, Jokorah’s looking where you are!” gulped the third Spider.
“You mean he’s looking where I WAS!” yelped the first Spider. “AM-SCRAY!” The Spider army ran into the jungle, nearly tripping over each other in fear. Once it was just the Forest Dragon and Sorsha, they spoke.
“Noticed anything recently?” asked the Forest Dragon, Jokorah.
“I had Johgo complain that an apple he was eating blighted in his mouth and made him sick,” replied Sorsha.
“His whole troop managed to get the same results,” revealed Jokorah. “I healed them all, but couldn’t find Johgo. I take it you healed him?”
“Yep,” confirmed Sorsha. “I also learned that the blight’s evil in origin. Given what I’ve heard from the Spiders, I’d say it’s the work of Oyed manifesting and bringing Intrag back.”
“I’ll do what I can to slow the spread of the blight,” declared Jokorah, “but we need a large source of mana to purge it.”
“I’ll see what I can scrounge up,” affirmed Sorsha as she dashed back into her cottage to grab her book, then dashed into the jungle to begin her search.
Oyed, the father of the Divine Ones, has stood against the Realms since their creation. Existing since the dawn of time, he created the Divine Ones to create a world where no strife exists. He didn’t count on his children fighting each other and breaking the world into the Three Realms and so tried to destroy it to make a new world. He failed and was sent to the Depths of the After-realm to be imprisoned. However, he’s not without contingencies. He managed to get his gospel to the Realms and so gained followers and a way to escape his prison. He patiently waits to begin the Final War to forever decide the fate of the Realms.
“Your fortunes are restored?!” cheered Denstra once everyone returned to the Endeavor and explained what happened.
“And the Barmeks are part of a Clan now?!” asked Endea.
“Yes to both,” answered Bashoon. “Now we’ve got a safety net if we’re ever in financial trouble again!”
“Could you explain why the Clans are so important?” asked Arsha.
“Gladly,” replied Bashoon. “While a family can do great things on its own, when its part of a Clan, it can do so much more. It demonstrates that we’re willing to put aside differences to pursue the betterment of the Imperium and the best way for us to do that is to seek profit.”
“Well, I’m happy you have your fortunes back and can rest easy knowing you have other people willing to help your family out,” declared Arsha. “…Er, does this mean…?”
“I’m not leaving Realmfleet!” yelped Bashoon. “I plan to serve Realmfleet until retirement!” Arsha released a breath.
“I was worried for a minute there,” she chuckled. “We would have lost a fine Officer.”
“What’s gonna happen to Torsko?” asked Denstra.
“If I know my future father-in-law’s tolerance level for traitors,” muttered Arsha, “nothing good.”
There was a celebration in Dwelga that lasted a few days over the return of the Scale-sword of Yunshul. It was quite the cause for celebration and, with Goblins being Goblins, it was the biggest chance for profit. Food, drink, fancy items, all were being sold at all prices. This was a true Goblin party. After the celebration, golden busts of Bashoon and her parents were set into a wall with other busts. This was the Wall of Heroes, set with the busts of famous Goblins who changed the course of the Imperium’s history and sought new ways to make profit. Once that was done, Chancellor Penshek gave a speech of praise towards the Barmeks, thanking them for their service to the Imperium, despite the wrongs they had suffered. After the speech, Bashoon and her parents returned to the Endeavor and went back to work with a new view on life. “Well, I can only see things getting better from here,” sighed Bashoon.
“Ain’t that the truth!” replied Mr. Barmek.
“New heroes talking about the future?” called Arsha’s voice. She stepped into the restaurant.
“Wanna join in the conversation?” asked Bashoon.
“Much as I’d want to,” sighed Arsha, “I’m afraid I have an assignment for you. We need a new internal communications system set up and I need you to help Malak and Dalengor.”
“Understood, Captain,” confirmed Bashoon as she headed off to give Dalengor and Malak a hand. Arsha chuckled.
“You know, I may write a Letter of Promotion Recommendation for her very soon,” she mused.
“You think she’s served long enough?” asked Mr. Barmek.
“She’s certainly brave enough and her record’s impeccable,” answered Arsha. “I don’t see any reason to…” the intercom interrupted her.
“Shalvey to Arsha,” called Shalvey.
“It never fails,” Arsha sighed to herself. She headed to the restaurant’s communications terminal. “Go ahead.”
“Rokalla and Orbak have an Alpha Priority transmission for you,” relayed Shalvey. “They have reason to believe a Wraith is now involved in Dr. Borg’s affairs.” Arsha’s eyes went wide.
“Route the call to my Ready Room,” directed Arsha. “I’ll take it there.” She left the restaurant and headed to her Ready Room, unpinning her hairpiece, and fastening it to her waist. Once inside, she opened a channel. “Please tell me I heard Shalvey wrong,” she begged Orbak and Rokalla’s holograms. “Please tell me you DIDN’T tell her about a Wraith.”
“I wish we didn’t,” sighed Orbak. “The Wraith freed Torsko as I was about to behead him and they escaped with Dr. Borg and her cronies.”
“Your Majesty, I need the full story,” sighed Arsha.
“You WON’T like it,” warned Rokalla. “I sure didn’t.”
Torsko was restrained by his neck and wrists, awaiting the guillotine blade to drop. He was alone in the center of a circular, closed-off courtyard. Many people, dressed in dark robes, observed in silence as drums rang out, reverberating deep into the very fiber of Torsko’s being. The only one who wasn’t robed was Orbak. The drums silenced as a robed man unfurled a scroll. “Hear ye, all in attendance!” called the man. “Let it be known that on this 1300th day of Irtum in the 4006300079th year of the Three Realms’ Third Age of Unity, Former Goblin Chancellor Torsko Canerba is found guilty of the following charges: deception of the Goblin Imperium to secure ill profits, silencing innocent voices, keeping the Imperium in a state of stagnation, aiding and abetting the terrorist Dr. Borg, and engaging in treason against the Under-realm! Let it be known that the judges have deemed he is too dangerous to be kept alive! Let it be known that Orbak Emboramii, the King of the Under-realm, is recommended to behead Torsko so the Realms may rest easier! Let it be known that none in attendance are to discuss what happens here unless at the King’s discretion! Your Majesty, will you follow the judges’ recommendation?”
“I shall!” snarled Orbak. “I request a few words with the Condemned as I carry out the execution!”
“Your request is granted!” replied the man. Orbak stood up and strode towards the guillotine.
“For 36,000 years of your life,” growled Orbak to Torsko, “you’ve evaded scrutiny! Broke the backs of the poor! Sucked dry the bounty of the Goblins! Consorted with evil! Today, you will pay your debt as your thieving hands and treasonous head are removed!”
“Kill me, Orbak,” hissed Torsko, “and you lose profit!”
“You mistake me for my first ancestor, Intrag the Conqueror!” snarled Orbak as he took the rope attached to the guillotine’s blade. “I do not inflict bandits upon the poor! I do not consider the rulers of the other Realms my inferiors! I do not…!”
“That’s what makes you weak!” interrupted Torsko. “Intrag would have approved of my methods! His word was once law before you watered it down!” Orbak pulled the rope down, causing the blade to go up and undo its restraints on its own.
“I did not merely water Intrag’s word down,” he hissed in a low whisper, “I removed it! Intrag is dead and so is his twisted view of law! Never again will the Under-realm suffer his corruption!” His grip on the rope started to lessen…then a wind blew around the execution yard. The wind picked up until something caused the guillotine to be reduced to splinters, freeing Torsko. The wind then concentrated in one area before dark mist swirled, obscuring the shape of a man until the man inside swung his arms out, banishing the mist, and revealing a bare-chested man in only pants and shoes with the same crown as Orbak. Black mist constantly flowed around him and he strutted with a swagger reserved for confident warlords.
“Your king has returned,” chuckled the man. “You may bow.”
“Intrag?!” breathed Orbak.
“Manners, boy,” chided the man, Intrag. “Use my honorifics. Say, what’s your name, anyways?”
“I am Orbak Emboramii, the current Under-king!” introduced Orbak. Intrag flinched.
“You are a descendant of mine?” asked Intrag. “How do you claim the throne?”
“It became your son’s by right and deed!” declared Orbak. “You were killed long ago, as was your repugnant wife!”
“If you ARE my descendant,” growled Intrag, “then her blood is in your veins. Do not insult her.”
“I am the one who gives the commands!” shouted Orbak. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have an execution to carry out! Once that’s done, I will deal with you and your needs as a refugee!”
“…What did you call me?!” whispered Intrag.
“Current Under-realm law clearly states that all refugees be offered assistance,” replied Orbak as he turned his gaze to Torsko. “I offer it to you, Intrag Emboramii…”
“I AM NO REFUGEE!” roared Intrag as he forcibly turned Orbak to face him. “I AM THE ONLY KING OF THE UNDER-REALM! I was going to be nice and ask you, but now I am ORDERING you! Vacate my throne or I will soak this yard in your blood!”
“I won’t cede the Under-realm’s throne!” declared Orbak as he converted his scepter to sword mode.
“It isn’t yours to give!” challenged Intrag as he rushed at Orbak. He summoned a large blade and the two swords clashed. “Impossible!” breathed Intrag. “Oyed himself made me a Wraith!”
“So you DID make a deal with the Titan!” snarled Orbak as he swung his sword again. As the Wraith and King fought, Torsko tried getting away, but the people in attendance weren’t giving him the chance. He had to continue dodging the blows to stay alive. Things weren’t looking too good for either side as both were evenly matched. That is, until the Scorpion arrived. It fired a few shots to scare everyone back as Dr. Borg was transported down.
“Intrag! Torsko! To me!” she called. The two took the opportunity and joined her, allowing them to be carried up to the ship.
“SHOOT IT DOWN!” ordered Orbak. The audience tried, but it did no good. The Scorpion vanished and fled the scene. Orbak unleashed a flurry of curses in the Under-realm’s language that I shall not translate here.
“Great, so Oyed’s got something more planned!” growled Arsha once the story was finished.
“If Intrag’s Wraith is involved, you bet,” remarked Orbak.
“How bad is Intrag, Your Majesty?” asked Rokalla.
“Let’s just say,” replied Orbak, “he never believed the Divine Ones’ message of unity for all Realms. He publicly called it a hoax, even in their presence, and tried to slay them when they said it wasn’t.”
“I’m surprised his soul wasn’t obliterated on the spot!” gulped Arsha.
“Family legend…or rather, historical fact now,” explained Orbak, “said that Oyed saved his soul in exchange for serving the Titan.”
“Well, we can’t let him go through with this,” growled Rokalla. “Arsha, there have been reports dark energies being discovered on an island off the eastern beach of the Gamfinar Jungle. The Endeavor is to lead a small fleet there and investigate what’s going on. The fleet’s already assembled at the Rooka Forest.”
“Understood, Admiral,” confirmed Arsha.
“Good luck, Captain,” bid Rokalla. His part of the call ended. Orbak sighed.
“Arsha, if the fleet needs help…” he began.
“You and your wife will be the first I call,” replied Arsha.
“Just be careful,” advised Orbak. “Intrag’s not one to be underestimated, especially now that he’s a Wraith. Orbak out.” The call ended and Arsha changed into her duty uniform. While she changed, she didn’t notice that her rose was giving the faintest of glows.
Over in Dwelga, Torsko held a meeting of the Imperium Majestics, the main ruling body of the Goblin Imperium. The meetings usually consist of discussing the newest business opportunities discovered under Goblin Law. “Last, but certainly not least,” called Torsko as he wrapped up the meeting, “we must thank Twenshii for discovering a new mana-crystal source and securing it for Dwelga!” A Majestic woman bowed her head in respect. “I congratulate you all, ladies and gentlemen! Yearly profits are better than ever!” The Majestics pounded their fists on the table in self-congratulations. “However, there IS one cloud on the horizon, a cloud that none of us can get rid of easily, despite our best efforts. I’m not blaming anyone here, but it’s become clear to me that it’s becoming more and more hard to find truly lucrative opportunities here! Why? Because, no matter where we go, our reputation always precedes us! A reputation formed from the lies of our competitors!” The Majestics grumbled about this. “Competitors, like Reb Rojam, who maliciously spread the false impression that Goblins can’t be trusted!” The grumbling was more vocal. “But, there’s now a way to clear that error! You see, my intelligence network says that the Scarlet Stream Pirates have been disbanded and Reb Rojam has been finally arrested!”
“You mean…?!” breathed a male Majestic.
“Plunder Island Stronghold, ladies and gentlemen!” confirmed Torsko. “And the routes they took! We can use them for trade opportunities!”
“We can build a new reputation of using pirate territory for the betterment of society!” cheered Twenshii.
“My thoughts exactly!” replied Torsko. “It’ll be the good old days again!” There was much rejoicing at this bit of news as many Majestics started making plans. The session was interrupted by a massive knock on the room’s doors.
“…I ain’t expecting anyone,” muttered a Majestic. The doors then turned to splinters as Orbak and a contingent of soldiers swarmed the chambers.
“WHERE’S THAT PURE-BLOOD, TORSKO?!” roared Orbak. “HE’S MAKING DEALS WITH THE ENEMY! I WILL HAVE HIM EXECUTED!”
“King Orbak, my friend!” called Torsko. “What’s the meaning of this?!”
“Torsko, as the King of the entire Under-realm, I’m placing you under arrest for aiding and abetting the terrorist, Dr. Borg!” accused Orbak. “Arsha’s told me all about what your conversation with the good doctor entailed.”
“What in all the Realms are you talking about?!” yelped Torsko. “I never spoke with Dr. Borg!”
“LIES!” roared Penshek’s voice. Penshek, Bashoon, and Arsha then stormed in. Penshek stabbed the table with the Scale-sword, causing many Majestics to gasp in surprise.
“It cannot be!” breathed a man.
“It IS!” replied Penshek. “Realmfleet has authenticated it, as did Torsko’s friend, Dr. Borg!”
“That’s a spurious claim!” shouted Torsko. “I’ve never associated with her!”
“I’d like to believe that, I really would,” hissed Orbak, “but Eltan recorded the whole conversation between you and Dr. Borg!”
“After Eltan helped us escape,” continued Arsha, “we both gave the report to Realmfleet and Orbak.”
“Hold on, Eltan’s one of Dr. Borg’s Reve…” Torsko stopped himself too little, too late.
“Just a minute,” called a male Majestic, “were you about to say ‘Revenant’? Are you telling me Dr. Borg has a Revenant?!”
“How would you guess that?!” asked Twenshii. “…You didn’t make a deal with her, did you?!” Torsko said nothing.
“And it was all a bid to hide the fact that he’s clanless!” called a male Majestic.
“Yontrem!” yelped Torsko. “What are you doing?!”
“Reporting my findings to my employer, that’s what,” dismissed Yontrem.
“…A mercenary!” growled Torsko.
“I was hired to get information on you after you were declared Garsheek’s successor,” explained Yontrem. “Orbak knew there was something rotten in the Imperium, he just never figured it would be a clanless Goblin who was so afraid of being found out that he would be desperate enough to consort with terrorists and try to stifle any new opportunities with Realmfleet.”
“Realmfleet is the one that stifles us!” snapped Torsko. “On top of that, the fact that only those whose families are part of a clan can rule? That is nothing more than absurdity!”
“The reason for that is because profits can’t be sought out alone!” argued Arsha. “Not even mercenaries like Yontrem can seek it on our own! He had to get help to get this particular job from Orbak! Leaders would understand that there’s always a need for a safety net!”
“Past leaders, perhaps, but not modern ones!” countered Torsko.
“Enough!” called Twenshii. “You blind, ignorant fool! We ALL need a safety net! How else can we calculate risk?! Since you’re stupid enough to shoot yourself in the foot like this, we ALL order you to go with Orbak!”
“I give the orders, not you!” shouted Torsko. At that moment, the Majestics leveled their wands at him.
“Either you go with him or we execute you here and now!” growled Twenshii. Yontrem growled back, then sighed in defeat as he allowed Orbak’s soldiers to slap the cuffs on him.
“Just know this,” hissed Orbak, “I’ll be pushing for the maximum penalty for traitors like you!” He turned to his soldiers. “Take him away!” The soldiers took Yontrem to the prison carriage and drove off.
“The Imperium needs a complete overhaul,” sighed Twenshii.
“Perhaps the one who brought the Sword back can lead us,” mused another Majestic. Penshek goggled.
“Pardon me?!” he yelped.
“We need a new leader for a new era for the Imperium,” explained the Majestic.
“Penshek DID retrieve the Scale-sword,” mused a third.
“All those that would have Penshek Tolshoon promoted from Grand Treasurer to Chancellor of the Imperium, say ‘aye’,” called Twenshii.
“AYE!” declared a multitude of voices.
“All against, say ‘nay’,” directed Twenshii. No one said a word. “The vote’s unanimous. Penshek Tolshoon, step forward and take the Chancellor’s Oath.” She held out a book of the Imperium’s constitution. Penshek gulped before placing his left hand on the book and raising his right hand. “I, Penshek Tolshoon of the Tagnar Clan, do solemnly swear…”
“I, Penshek Tolshoon of the Tagnar Clan, do solemnly swear…” repeated Penshek.
“…that I will uphold the principles of the Goblin Imperium faithfully,” continued Twenshii.
“…that I will uphold the principles of the Goblin Imperium faithfully,” confirmed Penshek.
“I will advise the Imperium on how to seek profit…” Twenshii went on.
“I will advise the Imperium on how to seek profit…” replied Penshek.
“…even if the Guidelines must be thrown out,” Twenshii continued.
“…even if the Guidelines must be thrown out,” repeated Penshek.
“I now pronounce you the Chancellor of the Goblin Imperium!” called Twenshii. The Majestic pounded the table in congratulations, though some were a little sour at seeing a new Chancellor so quickly.
“My thanks,” called Penshek. “However, I must first clear some debts before I concentrate on the Imperium.”
“Debts?” asked Orbak.
“To Ensign Bashoon Barmek and her family,” explained Penshek.
“What debt do you owe us?” quizzed Bashoon, a little confused. Penshek pulled out a pad and keyed in something.
“There we go,” he declared. “Check your bank account.” Bashoon arched an eyebrow, then did so. Her eyes went wide.
“…Mom and Dad too?” she asked.
“My first act as Chancellor,” answered Penshek, “is to return what was wrongfully taken from you. Your family’s fortunes are restored. Let the name of Barmek be spoken of once again.”
“Congratulations, Ensign!” cheered Arsha.
“Th…thank you,” stammered Bashoon.
“Now, I need to speak with your father,” remarked Penshek. “Excuse me.” He left the chambers.
Penshek found Mr. Barmek outside the building, looking over a pad with his wife. They had just checked their bank account and were confused at the sudden increase of personal funds. He cleared his throat and the Barmeks turned to face him. “Grand Treasurer, can you help me make heads or tails of this?” requested Mr. Barmek.
“A sudden increase in your savings account?” chuckled Penshek.
“…How did you know?” asked Mr. Barmek.
“Let’s just say I was instrumental in getting your fortunes back to you,” replied Penshek.
“But…but how?!” asked Mrs. Barmek. “Only the Chancellor can do that! Last I checked, Torsko’s not gonna be one to restore our fortunes like that!”
“Torsko was arrested for consorting with Dr. Borg,” explained Penshek.
“Then, who’s the…you?!” realized Mrs. Barmek.
“No way!” gasped Mr. Barmek.
“After Torsko was taken by Orbak’s soldiers,” recalled Penshek, “I was drafted into the Chancellorship. I’ve just restored your original fortunes. Now, I must ask, which of you is head of the Barmek family?”
“I am,” replied Mr. Barmek. “Before we lost our fortunes, I’ve been trying to make deals into joining a clan, practically begging for a safety net..”
“You don’t need to resort to begging anymore,” chuckled Penshek. “You’ve raised a hero and such an act deserves a reward. Do you have your Family Ring?”
“Yes,” answered Mr. Barmek, confused. Penshek then drew out a small, ring-sized stamp. “…You’re joking!” breathed Mr. Barmek.
“I don’t make jokes that would be so cruel,” assured Penshek. “Korsak Barmek, for beginning a new era for seeking profit, the Tagnar Clan would be honored in having your family in our ranks, both as valuable money-makers and, most importantly, as friends.”
“…Chancellor Penshek Tolshoon,” declared Mr. Barmek, “I heartily accept this wondrous opportunity!” He held his ring out and Penshek pressed the stamp to it. The Barmeks were now part of a Clan! They then shook hands.
“May you be forever wealthy!” declared both Goblins.
Optimus, Megatron, Megumi, Hiro, Arsha, and Dr. Borg had gathered in the main library of Optimusthemobian’s mansion. “I just can’t believe it,” sighed Optimus.
“What? The stay-at-home order?” asked Megatron. “You know how COVID-19 spreads.”
“Well, yes, I do, but that wasn’t what I was talking about!” snapped Optimus. “I was talking about OTM dying!”
“Well, we knew it was going to happen,” sighed Megumi. “What with DeviantArt Eclipse upending everything and angering everyone with the fact that the staff didn’t listen to the majority of people saying it was too buggy.”
“I’m just sorry my journey wasn’t completed on that site,” muttered Arsha. Just then, Petramel, his wife, Noletam, and their son, Leumas entered the room.
“Mr. Venchitak,” greeted Dr. Borg.
“Madam,” returned Petramel in a cold manner. Noletam gave a raspy growl at the sight of Dr. Borg.
“Noletam, old friend, this isn’t about prom, is it?” asked Dr. Borg.
“Mainly, yes,” snarled Noletam.
“That was when we were kids!” snapped Dr. Borg.
“You KNEW I like Carnarad!” growled Noletam.
“Er, I’m glad to see,” interrupted Leumas as he addressed the room, “that everyone’s here.”
“What’s all this?” asked Hiro.
“OTM, our author,” explained Petramel in his teaching voice, “has left my family in charge of his DA estate, should anything happen to it.”
“Given what’s going on,” continued Noletam in her own teaching voice, “he has written out a last will and testament.”
“So, as the Executors of OTM’s estate,” finished Leumas in a slightly less refined teaching voice, “we’ve been empowered to read his will.”
“Well, hurry it up!” snapped Megatron. “I have a war to win!”
“If we may all be seated,” directed Petramel, “Leumas will proceed with the reading.” As everyone sat down, Leumas produced the will, straightened his back, and began.
“‘I, Optimusthemobian,'” he read, “‘being of sound mind and body…'”
“With that paunch?!” laughed Hiro.
“…’do hereby divide my DA estate,'” continued Leumas, “‘as follows: to Optimus Prime and Megatron, the main characters of my longest running series, Transformers: Mobian Chronicles…'”
“Oh, I like where this is going,” chuckled Optimus. Megatron grinned at the praise.
“…’and also the biggest pains in my neck…'” Leumas read on.
“Wait, what?!” yelped the two bots.
“‘I mean, honestly,'” continued Leumas, “‘Optimus, you charging off after Jazz like that and exposing the Transformers’ existence to Sonic’s world with no thought to the galactic political repercussions and Megatron, you adopting a Social Darwinist attitude, both of these actions are beyond me. Why I let kids like you determine the fate of your respective factions, I’ll never know. If you knew just how much you idiots made me waste time puzzling out your motives…nevertheless, that’s all water under the bridge. To Optimus Prime and Megatron, I bequeath…a boot to the head.'”
“A WHAT?!” shouted Optimus. A boot then flew at Optimus and hit him in the head!
“Optimus, are you…?!” yelped Megatron before a boot hit him in the head.
“By the Ones!” swore Dr. Borg. Hiro just laughed.
“‘To Megumi Moody Thrill-seeker Hishikawa…'” Leumas read on.
“MOODY?!” shouted Megumi. “THRILL-SEEKER?!”
“‘What you did to X-PO was necessary,'” continued Leumas. “‘Your hesitance to talk to your own family about your problems led you to making not one, but TWO rash decisions: the first being the potential breakup of the F.N.S and the second being the suicide run on Hiro when he invaded Wyldstyle’s home. On top of that, you constantly ran the F.N.S into the ground after Vortech’s first defeat and accepted an invitation to a tournament while hunting Hiro, Megatron, and Dr. Borg’s alliance. To Megumi Hishikawa, I bequeath…a boot to the head.” A boot then hit Megumi in the head. She managed to steady herself and massaged her head.
“This is an outrage!” snapped Megumi.
“‘But, still,'” Leumas read on, “‘you’re one of my more popular characters and did ask me to retire you until Optimus and Arsha finished their adventures. Since I have no further need of any stories concerning you or the F.N.S…'”
“Finally, something good!” muttered Megumi.
“…’I bequeath…another boot to the head,'” continued Leumas. Megumi managed to block the boot’s flight path.
“Too smart for…!” another boot then hit Megumi in the head, cutting off her boasting.
“‘And one more for Optimus and Megatron,'” Leumas went on. Optimus and Megatron were hit again. “‘To Hiro Adachi, the laziest villain I’ve ever made…'”
“There’s nothing lazy about commanding a multiversal empire!” protested Hiro.
“…’who commanded a multiversal empire for all of five years,'” continued Leumas, “‘until he just let it collapse…'”
“That was THEIR fault! Not mine!” argued Hiro as he pointed to Dr. Borg and Megatron.
“…’I bequeath a boot to the head,'” proceeded Leumas. The boot was too fast for Hiro to shoot as it dodged his gun’s shot and hit him in the head. “‘And one more for Optimus and Megatron.'” Optimus and Megatron were hit yet again!
“I think I’m developing drain bamage!” groaned Optimus.
“I’m dizzy and I think I’ve developed short-term memory loss!” moaned Megatron. “…and I think I’ve developed short-term memory loss!”
“‘To Doctor Cytanek Yavenag Borg…'” continued Leumas.
“Uh oh,” gulped Dr, Borg.
“…’whose actions are a continual disruption to the Realms…'” Leumas went on.
“I don’t like where this is going!” yelped Dr. Borg.
“…’why you felt the need to circumvent the cost of making a Revenant,'” continued Leumas, “‘I will never understand. The price was implemented for people NOT to make Revenants willy nilly.'”
“I don’t want any boot to the head!” pleaded Dr. Borg.
“Why mention making a Revenant?” asked Arsha, still ignorant about Yulduk’s current undead status.
“‘Given your own scientific advances…'” Leumas went on.
“I’m covering my head!” yelped Dr. Borg.
“…’I bequeath…a boot to the wing joints,'” revealed Leumas.
“WHERE?!” shrieked Dr. Borg. A boot then hit her backside, right between her wings. She opened her mouth in a silent scream of pain and fell from her seat. Hitting any member of the Fae between the wings is the equivalent of kicking them in the crotch. Much like humans, it’s more painful for female Fae.
“Oh, that’s just cruel!” protested Arsha.
“‘Last, to Princess Arsha Royana, the most dedicated of my characters…'” continued Leumas.
“Oh?” quizzed Arsha as everyone pelted with boots so far glared at her.
“…’who always did her job and did it with professionalism and courtesy,'” went on Leumas, “‘and continues to be the pride of Realmfleet…'”
“It was no trouble,” assured Arsha.
“Kiss-up,” grumbled Optimus.
“…’To Arsha Royana, I bequeath…a boot to the head,'” revealed Leumas.
“WHAT?!” shouted Arsha. She then got booted in the head! As she massaged her head, she removed her hairpiece. “I hope his soul reaches the Depths and fades to nothingness!” cursed Arsha.
“‘To Noletam Farginta and Petramel Venchitak,'” Leumas read on, “‘in assisting me in writing this will, I bequeath a BOOT TO THE HEAD!’ MOM! DAD! LOOK OUT!” Too late. Noletam and Petramel were hit. Leumas got up and checked them over. “Are you guys all right?!” he asked.
“I think my head’s bleeding!” groaned Petramel. Leumas looked all around.
“No, it isn’t, thank the Ones,” he sighed gratefully. He then checked Noletam.
“I’m fine, my boy,” assured Noletam. “Just need an…” she then noticed something wrong with her vision. “…No!” whispered Noletam as she took her ruined glasses off. “MY GLASSES! THAT’S 60,000 GOLDS DOWN THE DRAIN!” Her saliva was adopting a green coloration from her venom as she ranted. Leumas decided to continue the reading.
“‘Last,'” he wrapped up, “‘to Leumas Venchitak, I leave not a boot to the head…but a crazed wyvern to BE SHOVED DOWN HIS TUNIC’S BACK?!'” A mysterious hand then shoved a crazed wyvern down his tunic and went crazier. Leumas howled in pain as the wyvern’s teeth and claws raked across his flesh. Noletam grabbed the wyvern and sunk her teeth into it, pumping it full of her venom and killing it within 30 seconds. Petramel started casting healing spells on Leumas.
“I take that back, THAT was cruel,” remarked Arsha.
“Not half as cruel as being abused like that!” snapped Megatron. “When do we get our cut of his estate?!” Just then, a hologram of OTM appeared on the table.
“If this message is playing after the reading of my will,” began the hologram, “then it’s safe to assume someone asked when you would get your cut of my estate. The simple answer is…never. I have moved my written works to Archive of Our Own and and all of my drawings are on Newgrounds.”
“Are you serious?!” demanded Hiro. “You mean you gathered everyone here just to abuse us?!”
“It was my final wish,” replied the hologram.
“You pure-blooded bastard!” Dr. Borg managed to get through her pain.
“Do you mean to tell us,” snarled Megumi, “we’re getting NOTHING?! Not even the guys who helped you with your will?!”
“That’s correct,” confirmed the hologram. “But, my watchers get something. To all those that have taken a gander at my DeviantArt page and watched me, I bequeath the links to where you can find me, both in the description of this story and in my journal. Thank you all so much for watching me here and I hope to see you over in the aforementioned sites.” The hologram shut off.
“…I hate him,” muttered Leumas.
“We all do,” remarked Optimus. That statement was met with nods of agreement.
“Well, I must compliment you, Arsha,” chuckled Dr. Borg as both Arsha and Bashoon’s teams were brought to the control room. “I honestly didn’t expect a two-pronged attack. Still, your attempt to interfere with my deal with the Imperium was futile.”
“When the Imperium sees that you’ve interfered with a Quest that they’re funding,” snarled Penshek, “there will be no end to their vengeance!” Dr. Borg stared at him for a moment, then chuckled.
“The Chancellor’s fooled you well, hasn’t he?” she purred.
“…What?” asked Penshek.
“Get me the Imperium,” Dr. Borg ordered Eltan. The naga keyed in a command and the Goblin Chancellor appeared on the screen.
“Chancellor Torsko?” quizzed Arsha.
“Dr. Borg, I trust things are going well,” grunted Torsko.
“As well as can be expected,” replied Dr. Borg. “We have the Goblin you sent.”
“Excellent,” purred Torsko.
“Wait, I don’t understand,” muttered Penshek.
“…I thought you would have killed him by now,” growled Torsko.
“What’s all this about?!” demanded Penshek.
“A removal of a political rival,” replied Dr. Borg.
“You’ve been insulting my views for too damn long!” continued Torsko. “Why you side with rebel youngsters when the old ways still work, I’ll never understand!”
“But…but I don’t…” stammered Penshek.
“It’s all very simple,” explained Torsko. “Dr. Borg contacted me a while ago after finding the Scale-sword on her island. Her financier and a good friend of mine, Tormo, introduced me to her.”
“After we talked, I made him an offer,” continued Dr. Borg. “He would send a political rival on a Quest for the sword and I would dispose of said rival, earning a little extra money for my experiments. After all of his rivals are gone, I will give the Imperium a position in my empire as the main bankers.”
“And we won’t have to rely on Realmfleet for profits!” growled Torsko. “Ah, I see you have a member of the Barmek family with you.”
“You did all this to spite Realmfleet?!” snarled Bashoon.
“To spite YOU and your sibling-parents, actually,” hissed Torsko.
“You did NOT just call me the product of inbreeding!” snapped Bashoon.
“Why else would you preach the notion that the Imperium is diseased with its own power?!” argued Torsko.
“Trying to enslave the Trolls all over again?!” retorted Bashoon.
“When they served us, it was declared the height of our civilization!” growled Torsko.
“Slavery’s barbarism and you know it!” shouted Bashoon.
“Slavery’s been the backbone of all civilizations!” snarled Torsko. “Once Dr. Borg publicly gives the Scale-sword to me after all my rivals are dead, we’ll be funneling money to her for generations to come and I’ll retire easy!”
“So this whole thing is a retirement plan!” growled Arsha.
“I think Varshenta Beach will be a good place to retire,” chuckled Torsko. “The ladies love the money-men there.”
“You won’t get away with this!” hissed Arsha.
“Get that from Dr. Snood?” scoffed Torsko. He then gave his attention to Dr. Borg. “Penshek’s the last of my rivals.”
“Then I’ll deliver the Scale-sword to you once I finish up here,” promised Dr. Borg. “Borg out.” The call ended and Dr. Borg turned to Weltam. “Speaking of rivals, I believe Arsha should witness the execution of yours.”
“I’ll bring her up here,” replied Weltam.
“So you’re killing Reb too?” muttered Bashoon.
“Bring Melgem up here too,” Dr. Borg directed Weltam. “My newest theory is that his spirit will be broken worse than his body.”
“So, Reb first, then let Melgem give up on living before killing him,” guessed Weltam.
“That’s the plan for this behavioral experiment,” confirmed Dr. Borg.
“Coming up,” purred Weltam. She then sauntered off to the brig.
“When Realmfleet discovers what you did…!” snarled Arsha.
“Realmfleet is ineffective in keeping the major threats under control!” argued Dr. Borg. “You lot claim to be peacekeepers, yet the Splitters and scum like Reb still exist! The denizens of Domoroto were all kidnapped and raped for 50,000 years, yet the Mega-sharks all got a slap on the wrist by being forcibly relocated! I’m giving the Realms a permanent solution to evil!”
“Then why are you talking to Oyed?!” demanded Arsha.
“That’s for me to know and members of the Realm Trinity Empire to find out,” chuckled Dr. Borg. She then turned to the Revenants. “These are the last prisoners to be executed. Make sure their executions are recorded. After that, send the recordings to Realmfleet HQ.”
“Got it,” confirmed Yulduk.
Weltam keyed in an entry code for the brig and the door opened. “Oh, Reb!” she sang. “It’s time for your haircut! Now, the barber recommends going right below the neck and…WHAT THE?!” The cells were empty! Weltam opened them and cast a spell to determine if magic was used or is in use. The spell turned up nothing. “Of all the…!” snarled Weltam. She slammed her hand on an alarm button.
The alarm rang throughout the base. Dr. Borg determined its location to be from the brig. “Command Center to brig!” she called over the intercom. “What’s going on?!”
“Reb and Melgem have flown the coop!” replied Weltam.
“Are you sure?!” yelped Dr. Borg.
“Positive! I’ve checked their cells!” answered Weltam. “They ain’t here!”
“Thank you, Marshii,” chuckled Arsha.
“…Another diversion!” snarled Dr. Borg. “My security system really IS subpar! Everyone, find them!”
“You’ll fail in the attempt,” laughed Bashoon.
“Oh? Why, pray tell?” asked Dr. Borg.
“Because the Endeavor’s long left the island with Reb and Melgem being patched up by Marshii!” boasted Arsha.
“Scalpel,” Marshii directed the nurse.
“Scalpel,” replied the nurse as he handed the tool to Marshii. She took the tool and used it to cut the excess cast wrapping off of Reb’s arm.
“Success,” declared Marshii once she finished. She turned to the nurse. “Good work.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” replied the nurse.
“My GRACIOUS thanks as well, Doctor,” bid Reb. “I already feel my POOR bones coming back together. That UNHOLY brute, Yulduk, was so base that he WOULD hurt a lady!”
“I’d save the thanks for now,” advised Marshii.
“…Why?” asked Reb. The nurse then snapped his fingers and she vanished. “WHAT IN THE DEPTHS?!” shouted Reb’s voice outside the door. Marshii and the nurse stepped out of the brig’s infirmary and smirked as Reb and the cybernetically restored Melgem roared in their cells.
“Did you really think this opportunity WOULDN’T be exploited?” asked Marshii. “A chance to arrest the most notorious pirates in all the Realms? You bet we’re gonna take it!”
“I’LL PUNCTURE YOUR SWIM BLADDER FOR THIS, YOU DRIED-OUT MINNOW!” threatened Reb. “THEY CAN’T HOLD REBARISAL ROJAM, ADMIRAL OF THE SCARLET STREAM PIRATES!”
“All we need to do,” chuckled Arsha, “is to get the Scale-sword to Dwelga and upset your little potion-cart!”
“You won’t be able to do so when your head is cut off!” snarled Dr. Borg. “Yulduk, take them to the Execution Yards! We’ll show the Realms what happens to those that defy us!”
“Understood!” replied Yulduk. He turned to the other Revenants. “You lot, get them ready for…” he didn’t get far with his command as Eltan’s tail grabbed his waist and flung him into Dr. Borg! As they tried to pick themselves up, the Realmfleet Revenants undid the prisoners’ bonds.
“Orders, Captain?” asked Eltan.
“Get us to the Scale-sword!” ordered Arsha. “After that, we’ll all clear a path to the open and summon the Endeavor for pickup!”
“Drelta, lead the way!” Eltan ordered Drelta. “I’ll bring up the rear!”
“Got it!” replied Drelta as he summoned a pair of ice blades. Eltan then slithered towards Dr. Borg and Yulduk.
“What is the meaning of this mutiny?!” demanded Dr. Borg.
“While we DID wish we could see our families one last time before we died,” hissed Eltan, “we gave our lives to protect them! We feigned rage towards Arsha! The thought of having died DOES sicken me, but I don’t blame Arsha for it! Her life was just as on the line as mine and she was willing to give it up if it meant the mission could succeed back then!”
“Yulduk, stay behind and deal with this traitor,” commanded Dr. Borg. “I’ll take a team with me to stop Arsha’s advance.”
“Understood,” replied Yulduk. He then got into a defensive stance as he faced Eltan. “The Revenant Spell was your chance to take revenge on those who left you behind! You OWE Dr. Borg!”
“You were convinced to join her after she brought you back!” snarled Eltan as the two combatants circled one another. “She needed to use her words! That’s never a guarantee that a Revenant will join her!”
“Ungrateful Shrew!” roared Yulduk. “Reborn to a new privilege which you throw away!”
“Privilege?! This?!” Eltan swept her hand over her tail and indicated the Revenant veins.
“You clearly never knew a life of failure!” replied Yulduk. “If you did, you would value the gift Dr. Borg gave you!”
“This is a curse, not a gift!” argued Eltan.
“I say it’s a blessing and a second chance!” roared Yulduk. He threw a pair of fireballs at her, but Eltan absorbed them and unleashed a torrent of flames at his feet.
“Just once,” Dr. Borg griped to herself, “I’d like things to be easy!” Her pursuit of Arsha and her group led her to the new room the Scale-sword was resting in. Bashoon had lowered the force-field already and Penshek was making a grab for it. “Back away from the sword!” demanded Dr. Borg. Penshek didn’t listen and grabbed the sword’s hilt, pulling it free from its bonds. “Disobedience on this scale is punishable by death!” snarled Dr. Borg as she flew at the team in a rage. Sheendii fired a blast of ice at her wings and knocked her to the ground.
“Get going!” urged Sheendii. “I’m undead right now! I’ll cover the escape!”
“I’m not leaving you again, Lieutenant Eltraa!” argued Arsha.
“With respect, Captain, you don’t have a say in the matter!” countered Sheendii. “Go! Now!”
“Arsha!” interjected Foresna. “We don’t have a choice!”
“…Withdraw!” called Arsha. Everyone ran as Sheendii fired ice blast after ice blast, slowing down the enemy forces.
Eltan had gotten her coils around Yulduk and slammed him repeatedly against a console, forcing him to fall unconscious. She let him drop to the floor and caught her breath. “I won’t be a slave to her cruelty,” Eltan declared. She then noticed Arsha’s team on the monitor making their way towards the exit. “Near enough,” declared Eltan as she keyed in a command to the power core.
“Warning. Warning,” droned the computer as an alarm sounded. “Reactor core contamination. Unable to purge. This base will self-destruct in three minutes.”
The announcement rang throughout the base. “Self-destruct?!” yelped a pirate.
“Unable to purge?!” wailed Jansha. “Mother, what do we do?!”
“…Evacuate the base,” declared Dr. Borg. “This venture is no longer worth pursuing.”
“Plunder Island Stronghold can accept you,” offered Rochak.
“With the amount of loyalists Reb has?!” argued Jansha.
“Had,” corrected Rochak. “The loyalists fled when we took over.”
“In that case, we accept your offer of asylum,” declared Dr. Borg.
Yulduk finally got up and shook his head to clear his headache. He heard the alarm and saw the status of the power core with everyone clearing out. He then put two and two together and snarled before dashing towards the exit.
The Realmfleet Revenants and Arsha’s people got outside as the inhabitants of the base continued with a ruthless evacuation of the base. “Okay, Endeavor,” called Arsha over a communicator, “we have the sword and we’re all here! We also have five new arrivals! Get us out of here!” Light surrounded everyone and they all ended up in the teleport room! The officers manning their stations saw the Revenants and leveled their wands at them. “Wait! Hold your fire! They’re friendlies!” The crewmembers arched their eyebrows in confusion. “Okay, we’ve got a story to tell you…” muttered Arsha.
The Endeavor finally arrived at the island and held position in its airspace. The plan was simple at first glance, but required the tightest of communication. Arsha would lead one team to distract Dr. Borg and her allies, Marshii would lead a medical team to get Melgem and Reb to the relative safety of the Endeavor, and Penshek would lead a team to get the Scale Sword out of its hiding place. Arsha’s team teleported to the island’s rocky northern shores. The rocks were large and offered little comfort. The team took up positions for an ambush, mental communications only. “Arsha,” Foresna called over the mental frequency, “you do realize Dr. Borg’s most likely intercepted your transmission to Reb, right?”
“It’s probable,” replied Arsha’s thoughts. “In fact, I’m counting on it.” Right on cue, Dr. Borg and Yulduk came up the steady slope. “There you are,” Arsha purred to herself.
“Might as well come out,” Dr. Borg called. “We know you’re here.”
“I would have been insulted if you didn’t,” replied Arsha. She gave a hand-signal for everyone to hold their position. “So, what’s Oyed promising you?”
“That’s between me and him,” dismissed Dr. Borg. “You have bigger concerns.”
“Like what?” scoffed Arsha.
“Like us, for starters!” called another voice. At that moment, five people revealed themselves from vantage points higher than anyone on Arsha’s team. They were a female Naga, a male Ice Elf, a male Cecaelia, a female Slime, and a male human. They all had one thing in common; they had the same ashen skin and blue veins of light as Yulduk. The only thing that indicated the Slime was a Revenant was her core having the same veins as a Revenant.
“I believe you know these Revenants,” chuckled Dr. Borg. “Eltan Sontor, Sheendii Eltraa, Drelta Meltrek, Blenter Ansii, and Entran Deltar, the people who died under your command during your first encounter with Reb Rojam.”
“Yeah, I remember them,” snarled Arsha. “I also remember their funeral, you ghoul!”
“A worthless effort!” burbled the Slime, Blenter. “All you did was put on a show and give the illusion that you would remember us!”
“Your deaths still haunt me!” argued Arsha.
“Do they?!” hissed the human, Entran. “Or is that what you tell yourself to help you keep up appearances?!”
“Tell us,” demanded the Cecaelia, Drelta, “did you actually look our families in the eye as you told them we wouldn’t be coming home or did you simply take the coward’s way out and write condolence letters?!”
“I understand you blame me,” interjected Arsha, “but I made sure you were immortalized! To answer the question, I both wrote letters AND explained your deaths in person!”
“You still considered the coward’s way out!” accused the Naga, Eltan. “Just know this, THIS is what your future will be!” She gestured to herself. “You will die and it will all be because of Realmfleet!”
“Our future has the potential of being tragic,” interjected Foresna, “but it’s not going to be Realmfleet’s fault! You’ve all been warped by Oyed and Dr. Borg’s evil!”
“I guess Arsha never told you HOW we died,” snarled the Ice Elf, Sheendii. “A pirate ran his sword through my chest! A member of the Endeavor saw it and did NOTHING!”
“I would have executed Yotek!” boasted Eltan. “But Oak wanted the glory! He held me back and allowed me to be cut down by Under-Splitter Golems!”
“No!” declared Foresna. “I don’t believe that!”
“One day,” proclaimed Blenter, “Realmfleet WILL fail you! Then, you will believe!” Arsha looked around before deciding on the next move.
“FIRE ON THE ROCKS!” she called. Everyone fired magic blasts at the rocks above them, making the Realmfleet Revenants lose balance and tumble with the rocks as Arsha and her team got away. The Revenants regrouped and attacked Arsha’s team with Eltan making her way to Arsha. Arsha raised her hands in a defensive manner as Eltan assumed a Naga’s combat stance. “You spew Oyed and Dr. Borg’s lies!” snarled Arsha. “You believe yourself to be a savior when, in reality, all you’re doing is helping that pure-blooded Sprite enslave the Realms!”
“Who’s a pure-blood?!” shouted Dr. Borg as she joined Eltan. “My bloodline is blended, thank you! And you claim I’m enslaving the Realms?! I’m liberating us all from the shackles of limitations! How was I ever so blind as to believe that we need limits?!” She and Eltan then flanked Arsha and attacked! As they fought, more Revenants joined the fray. There’s one advantage the Undead have over the living; they never tire out. The Revenants still battled as Arsha’s team steadily became tired.
“Arsha, are we even doing anything?!” gasped Gorfanth.
“Just keep it up,” panted Arsha. “We need to show them that our way is the right way.”
“You’ll fail miserably in the attempt,” scoffed Dr. Borg as she continued the attack.
While the fight went on, Penshek led his team through the winding corridors of Dr. Borg’s base. “I can feel it! It’s this way!” whispered Penshek.
“That’s what you said in the last corridor!” hissed Bashoon. “And the one before that! Heck, you said that in EVERY corridor we’ve been down!”
“Well, do YOU have a better plan?!” snapped Penshek.
“Yes, actually,” replied Bashoon. “We use the base’s computer system to find the Scale Sword’s location!”
“And risk alerting everyone here?!” argued Penshek. As they argued, Elmar tapped Penshek’s shoulder and alerted him to a pirate rounding the corner. The pirate looked bleary-eyed, as if he just woke up from a nap. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and just shuffled down the corridor until he could see Penshek.
“Hey, who are you?” he asked, slurring his words.
“Er, we’re…uhm…” stammered Penshek.
“We’re new recruits!” supplied Bashoon. “We were told to report to where the Scale Sword was being held…”
“…but we got lost on the way!” finished Penshek.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, just take a right down the hall behind me,” mumbled the pirate. The team thanked the pirate and began moving off…when the pirate slammed his hand on an alarm button! He guzzled the rest of his coffee and looked more alert. “How dumb do you think I am?!” he snapped more clearly.
Back at the fight with the Revenants, the communicator in Dr. Borg’s arm buzzed. She tapped it and got the intruder alert. “Stop!” she called to her Revenants. “We have intruders at the base!”
“But Arsha…!” protested Blenter.
“She’s the diversion!” realized Eltan.
“Round up the prisoners and bring them inside!” ordered Dr. Borg. One quick stun spell from the Revenants and Arsha and her team were knocked out.
“NEW RECRUITS?!” shouted Penshek as he and his team ran through the corridors of the base, trying to evade the soldiers.
“I WAS PANICKING!” replied Bashoon.
“CAN WE CONCENTRATE ON RUNNING RIGHT NOW?!” interjected Elmar. It was a good enough suggestion for the two Goblins, so everyone put their energies into their feet and legs. They dashed into a hangar and avoided the shots from the base’s inhabitants. Just then, Penshek whipped out his wand and fired on the rafters. They crashed all around the enemy and almost crushed Elmar and Bashoon!
“Sorry!” he called.
“STOP HELPING!” shouted Bashoon. While the enemy soldiers were trying to get around the rubble, Bashoon and her team found a good hiding place. The enemies then got around the rubble and tried to find them.
“Where are they?!” bellowed an Earth Dragon.
“They must have doubled back!” guessed an Elf.
“With me!” called a Centaur. The enemies left the hangar, leaving Bashoon and her team to pant alone.
“Boy, we sure did a lot of running,” gasped Bashoon.
“And as soon as we catch our breath,” panted Penshek, “we’re gonna be running some more!”
“Hopefully towards the Scale Sword,” muttered Elmar. He then noticed something. He gestured for the two Goblins to carefully follow him towards a door with a golden light emanating from a door near them. The door had a numerical keypad near it, so it was a safe bet to believe it was passcode protected. Penshek then produced a device and held it near the keypad. The device bathed the keypad in green light and exposed which numbers were the ones that had been pressed the most.
“Well, we know the numbers are 3, 4, and 7,” muttered Penshek. “Now, if only we knew what the sequence is.”
“Allow me,” offered Bashoon. “Time to try something Thangred and I cooked up.” She pulled out another device with a keypad, keyed in the digits, and then brought it near the door’s keypad. The new device bathed the keypad in blue light for three seconds, then displayed 734 on its screen. Bashoon then keyed in 734 on the door’s keypad and the door opened! “We’ve already got a contract with Realmfleet to make more of these for security reasons and covert operations,” chuckled Bashoon.
“Nifty little gadget!” praised Penshek. “I hope the contract’s good to both of you.”
“It is, Penshek, I assure you,” replied Bashoon. The three then entered the room and were stunned when they saw where the glow was coming from. The light was a forcefield that held a Goblin-sized sword with the hilt’s cross-guard styled to look like a set of balance scales.
“Is that…?” asked Elmar.
“It is!” breathed Penshek.
“The Scale-sword of Yunshul!” Bashoon confirmed in a reverent whisper. The two Goblins were about to make a grab for it before Elmar held them back.
“This is too easy,” he remarked.
“He’s right,” muttered Bashoon as she shook herself out of her trance. “There should be more defenses than this. The sword IS Dr. Borg’s bargaining chip.”
“Circle the room,” directed Elmar. “We’ll approach it from three different angles.” The Goblins nodded, then went slowly along the walls, their eyes darting all around to make sure they weren’t caught by surprise. The entire three-person team then crept forward towards the forcefield. Nothing happened yet.
“This makes no sense,” muttered Bashoon.
“Er, Ms. Barmek,” observed Penshek, “all of the pillars surrounding the forcefield have gold light for trim, right?” Bashoon then observed the three pillars and, while it was true that two of the pillars had gold light, one of them had red. As Bashoon looked closer at the pillars, a memory stirred…then a frightful image!
“SIR! GET BACK! THAT’S JANSHA!” she warned Elmar. Too late. The pillar Jansha used as her disguise fell off of her and she grabbed Elmar’s head before slamming him into the forcefield and knocking him out! The two Goblins then pulled out their knifes and set their wands into them. Jansha’s eye then glowed brighter until she fired a torrent of red light at them, a massive stun spell, knocking them out. Jansha shut off the spell and checked herself over. A couple of pirates entered the room.
“It’s all right,” she assured. “The sword’s still safe. We just have some morons to throw into the brig. Get them there.” The pirates nodded and took the prisoners to the brig while Jansha reported to Dr. Borg about the situation.
Jazz was on monitor duty the next day. Looking for Rodimus’ friend was going to take a tremendous effort and needed all Autobots to give it their all. Prowl was communicating with Jazz while he was on patrol. “So far,” he reported, “it’s just a few petty crooks that needed to be taught a lesson.”
“All right, you’re due in, according to Ultra Magnus’ timetable,” remarked Jazz. “Head on back and…”
“Hold that thought,” interrupted Prowl.
“What is it?” asked Jazz.
“It looks like a trio of bots are setting up cameras outside Cream’s school,” explained Prowl.
“Can you give me a visual?” requested Jazz.
“On it,” replied Prowl. One of his headlights pulled its cover back and revealed a camera with a connection to the base. “Oh, Primus,” moaned Prowl once he got a better look. One of the bots was Hot Rod, the second bot was a green femme with a red helmet, and the third bot was a mech with wings.
“Hey! It’s the Alien Hunt! crew!” called Jazz.
“They’re setting up for another episode,” deduced Prowl.
“…At Cream’s school?” asked Jazz.
“Well, this IS an alien world,” reminded Prowl. “Maybe there’s some members of their audience that want to see more peaceful worlds.” Once it was determined everything was set up, the mech with wings started speaking.
“G’Day, all you secret hunters!” he began. “I’m Meteorfire!”
“I’m Cosmos!” introduced the green femme.
“I’m Hot Rod!” continued Hot Rod.
“And it’s time for Alien Hunt!” all three finished.
“And today, by popular demand,” Meteorfire went on, “we’re taking a look at an Earth Educational Facility!”
“All right, everyone,” called the principal, a female Mobian pig, “let’s get to class. Giant, shape-shifting, alien robots aren’t anything new nowadays.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Hammly,” replied Cream, “but these robots are new.”
“I’m sure your Autobot friends can take of this, Ms. Cream,” assured Mrs. Hammly.
“Although,” Cosmos continued from Meteorfire’s previous sentence, “this planet’s no longer called ‘Earth’ anymore. Because of increased diversity and an awareness of other dimensions, the planet was renamed ‘Mobius’. A good thing, in my opinion. Can you imagine calling your planet ‘Dirt’?”
“This world’s been attacked by the Xordas’ mutation wave,” Hot Rod went on, “but it didn’t go as the Xorda wanted. The animals attacked the Xorda and made new civilizations!”
“Just like their past,” continued Meteorfire, “Mobian schools are a rich epicenter of diversity and culture! However, me and my mates figure that it’s more than that.”
“Thanks to this Solstar Neutralizer,” called Cosmos as she pulled out a fancy-looking gun, “we’ll find out how much more.”
“Wait, SOLSTAR?!” yelped Jazz over Prowl’s radio.
“And the serial number says that it’s Rom’s Neutralizer,” growled Prowl. “That’s it, I’m moving in!” Prowl transformed and stormed up to the Alien Hunt! crew. “HEY!” he barked. “I’m placing you three under arrest for theft of Solstar…!” He didn’t get far as Cosmos used the gun to fire a ray of light at the school! As the inhabitants of the school were bathed in the light, several staff members and students changed into unearthly body shapes!
“I don’t believe it!” cheered Hot Rod. “The rumors are true!”
“Oh, when the stars align!” cheered Meteorfire.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your means of viewing do not need adjustment!” assured Cosmos. “So many races supposedly went extinct during the Great War! But, as you can plainly see, that’s not true! They’ve just been relocated to Mobius!”
“Look at them all!” sighed Meteorfire happily. “The Ancient Energon Masters, Clorans, the Nibarians, the…Skuxxoids?” The School bully was an alien that looked like a cross between a pig and a lizard. “Wait, you’re an adult. Why are you among children? Pit, why are you even on this planet? Your species is thriving.”
“Er, I’m on the run from a horrible marriage,” explained the Skuxxoid.
“It doesn’t matter!” dismissed Hot Rod. He then turned to Prowl whose mouth was wide open in stark surprise. “Well, Prowlio?” chuckled Hot Rod. “Amazed that there are so many species?”
“…So…many…” squeaked Prowl. “So many…so many rules broken!”
“…Huh?” asked Cosmos.
“You IDIOTS broke too many rules!” shouted Prowl.
“Wha…there’s gratitude for you!” snapped Meteorfire. “We rediscover so many species and you’re angry about broken rules?!”
“Hold on, did you know that the species that were declared extinct,” interjected Cosmos, “were still alive?!”
“Every Autobot law enforcer and their bosses, and that includes the Prime,” replied Prowl, “knew they were still alive!”
“So why hide it from the rest of us?!” demanded Hot Rod. Just then, the school’s trees grabbed the Alien Hunt! crew.
“Oh, for Primus’ sake,” growled Meteorfire, “if this is the result of a Majip…!”
“Watch the slurs!” snarled a woman’s voice. Cosmo and Trema then stormed up.
“A Seedrian?!” yelped Cosmos.
“One who shares a name with you,” growled Cosmo.
“Cosmo?” quizzed Meteorfire. “Did you regenerate or something?”
“Never mind the distant past, let’s focus on the more recent past!” snarled Cosmo. “I thought you and Cosmos learned your lesson after the Alovan Meteor incident! Looks like I was wrong since you’re dragging a kid into all this!”
“First off, I’m 3,000, a fully-functioning adult…!” interjected Hot Rod.
“Whatever,” dismissed Cosmo as she returned to ripping into Meteorfire. “Thanks to your big broadcast of 4020, the Galactic Council and the Black Block Consortia are harassing me to get answers! Also, Rom wants his gun back!” She commanded the trees to release the content creators, then she picked Meteorfire up by the shoulder. “Aren’t you an Autobot?!” she continued as she jabbed at the symbol on Meteorfire’s chest. “You’re supposed to keep the peace, not shatter it to pieces!” Meteorfire swatted her hand aside and got nose to nose with her.
“I’m a content creator first and foremost!” he snarled. “Besides, are you really the one to lecture me on priorities? Why are you with a Nebulan?! Last I checked, your species hated each other!”
“That’s changed once we entered the Autobot Alliance,” replied Trema. “And I’d say she IS the one to lecture you on priorities! The Galactic Council intercepted your transmission and noticed you were on all pan-galactic frequencies! Even Decepticonversations picked it up! You know, Decepticon social media?!”
“Oaky, so, maybe we can do without Decepticon subscribers,” muttered Meteorfire. Hot Rod and Cosmos then looked at him as if he had two heads!
“So, you’re taking responsibility for this?” asked Cosmo.
“Pit no!” snapped Meteorfire. “You ruined Alien Hunt!’s big comeback, you Majip!”
“This planet has plenty to offer, so we’ll be looking for a new angle!” declared Cosmos.
“And if any bad guys come our way, we’ll beat them up for you!” finished Hot Rod. “HOT ROD, TRANSFORM!” Hot Rod’s chest flipped up as his shoulders joined the sides of the chest so it became a car’s hood. His feet folded outwards, then his lower legs folded at the knee joints and came together to become a car’s rear. The wings he had rotated 180⁰ to become tailfins, completing his alt-mode’s sports car look.
“COSMOS, TRANSFORM!” Cosmos’ head swung back on an assembly while the arms and legs swung out and attached themselves to one another, making her a green fighter craft with a red dome.
“METEORFIRE, TRANSFORM!” Meteorfire’s legs swung to his back and formed a jet’s rear while his arms tucked themselves into his chest and his chest swung up to become a jet’s fuselage. The three bots then activated their holo-forms. Hot Rod’s was a Mobian Cheetah, Cosmos was a Mobian Hare, and Meteorfire was a Mobian Peregrine Falcon. The camera followed the three bots as they escaped their accusers. “So, despite this setback, we still proved that some of the ancient ‘extinct’ races aren’t so dead after all!” Meteorfire said to the camera.
“We’ll be back after things have cooled down,” continued Cosmos.
“And, like we promised the downer patrol,” Hot Rod went on, “we’ll beat up anyone that wants to take advantage of them. But, for now…”
“THANKS FOR HUNTING WITH US!” called all three.
“Remember to smash that Like button!” called Hot Rod.
“Obliterate the Share button!” cheered Cosmos.
“And conquer that Subscribe button like a Hunter!” finished Meteorfire. “Thanks for tuning in, all you ripper mates, and we’ll see you all…” he then made the “Devil” sign “ON THE NEXT ALIEN HUNT!”
Back at Cream’s school, Cosmo, Trema, and Prowl looked at the smoke trails the three streamers left in their escape. Prowl then looked down and saw the Solstar Neutralizer on the ground. “Well,” he sighed as he picked it up, “at least Rom’s getting his gun back.”
“Yeah, but the Galactic Council’s gonna have a stroke over this!” groaned Cosmo.
“The Autobots will assist in cleaning up this mess,” assured Prowl.
“If the Council gives you people the chance,” muttered Trema.
“If I know Optimus,” remarked Prowl, “We’ll still assist whether it meets Council Approval or not.”
“Councilors, I promise you…!” Optimus tried to explain to the Galactic Council over an audio-only call in his office. “…Yes, I AM aware of how many…no, no, this is not nor…I understand. Don’t worry, we WILL fix this. …Very well. Good day.” Once the call ended, Optimus shouted in frustration.
“May I come in?” asked Rodimus’ voice.
“As a matter of fact, yes!” snapped Optimus. Rodimus stepped in and Optimus jabbed an accusing finger at him. “Your past self is an immature brat who works with anti-mage idiots!”
“Ah, so you DID hear about Meteorfire using ‘Majip’ earlier today,” remarked Rodimus.
“How he becomes YOU is beyond me!” snarled Optimus. “As I understand it, Kup put the brakes on you a few times.”
“He did,” replied Rodimus. “I take it you’re calling him here?”
“I am!” declared Optimus. “And YOU’RE going to help Kup get Hot Rod under control! If he fails to do ANYTHING that isn’t self-serving, I’m holding you two personally responsible, is that clear?!”
“Crystal clear, Sir,” confirmed Rodimus. “I’ll call Kup, if you wish.”
“No, you need to do some preliminary work in getting Hot Rod to slow down,” directed Optimus. “I’ll call Kup after I talk with Prowl. Dismissed.” Rodimus saluted and left Optimus’ office.
Presenting my Kamen Rider persona, Weaver. On DA, I reached 19,276 pageviews and made a story around it. Vegeta came to do the “Over 9,000” meme, but my evil double from another universe came to kill both of us. He tried to enslave Anansi, but Anansi wasn’t having it and so joined me as he became my belt, the Weaver Driver. My form changes use the Elementriggers to give me powers and armor based on the basic elements, water, earth, fire, and air. The dial on Anansi’s butt can also summon weapons based on his first story. My base form’s powers are based around scientifically modern spiders like jumping spiders and orb weavers.