The Desert is Cold in the Dark [Dark Data]

[Dr. McNinja]

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

Ogong groaned loudly as the trio trudged through the desert. He was holding a small plastic bag (the anachronism of plastic bags in prehistoric China lost to him). In it was ice that was no longer frozen. As the warm water crinkled inside the plastic, Ogong dragged his feet in the sand.

"You know," the monkey whined, "When I said you were strong... And that I'd follow you?"

Ogong wiped another torrent of sweat from his forehead with his palm. He rubbed that palm against his sweatpants.

"I thought we'd be going somewhere nice."

The soldier, Jim, was trudging along right next to him. Ogong thought he was suited before, but his gear was even more impressive... and quite large. Next to Jim, Ogong and whichever the one that was looked like sentient rags that were following along. Still, Sonny had an air of nobility around him. Sun Ogong had an air of humid stench.

"Aren't you hot?" Ogong mumbled to Jim, his lips chapped to the point of bleeding.

Ogong couldn't tell if Jim was looking at him under that skull-visor of his. As the man clunked along, he heard Jim respond.

"Nope. Air-conditioned."

"Air-con-what?"

"Air-conditio- What, have you never heard of it?"

The monkey didn't respond. At another time, he would have been glad to try and sync up timelines, but right now the sun seemed very intent on melting him down.

"And you're not hot, either?" Ogong mumbled to Sonny.

"I feel we might move faster with a vehicle," Sonny murmured, ignoring the whining monkey entirely and hoping to change the conversation.

Jim replied, "Not in these sands. Too loose."

"Seriously, Jim," Ogong sighed, "Air conditions or not, why are you still wearing that thing? You expecting to be attacked?"

"You never know, Ogong," Jim replied absentmindedly, "You never know."

Sighing wordlessly, Ogong stopped. He could barely focus his magic, but finally he summoned the character for "Cold". Casting the complex spell, he summoned another bag of ice. Each subsequent bag of ice looked a little more pitiful than the last. His first bag was a triumphant cluster of ice that kept the back of his neck cool. This one had three sorry-looking and already half-melted pebbles.

"Are we there yet?" the monkey sputtered again.

The monkey couldn't tell, but Raynor was glowering under his visor. Sonny squeezed 

"Listen, Ogong," the storm spirit snapped, "This is the hottest point of the day. It will only become cooler. Stop complaining."

"What do you mean it's the hottest point of the day?"

Jim pointed at the sky. "Look at it. It's high noon."

Inexplicably, a small ball of shrubbery bounced along past them. Ogong sighed in relief.

"Okay, alright, I'll shut up."

The trio continued to trudge in silence for another five minutes until Ogong broke the silence once more.

"Are we there yet?"

The other two loudly groaned in tandem.

[Nebula]

High overhead, a bird of prey glided by. Wings spread, beady red eyes peering down at the sands below, and noting the odd group of three that trudged through the sands as its shadow passed over them. The hottest part of the day was upon them, and they were stuck down in the sands, where there wasn't even the grace of the brisk winds and jetstreams of high altitude.

Down below, in the sands, the group was suddenly met with the sharp, crackling warble of the liberator aides they'd been gifted snapping to life. The image of a radar settled onto the screen, showcasing a single, flashing red nebula symbol near the edge, with an arrow pointing off the side. Straight ahead, the way they'd been going. Words briefly flashed on the screen, overlaying the radar: STRONGHOLD LOCATED. It was still a ways off, from the looks of it, but the empty, open nature of the Dunes seemed to be working to the group's advantage here.

Of course, only moments after that bit of good news, something much more unpleasant registered on the radar. Two additional radar blips, coming from either side of the group and moving at a high rate of speed. Already, they could see clouds of sand and dust being kicked up in the distance both ways, and closing in rapidly. They were going to have company, and soon.

Congratulations. You've narrowed in on the location of the nebula gate in the dunes. Now you just need to reach it and zero in on its location! You all have one round of posting before you have some company join you for an Encounter.

[Jim Raynor]

"Hey, this piece'a junk's finally doin' somethin'!" Jim said as the information trickled from the liberator aide and into his heads-up display in his armour.

"Uh, I don't like the looks of this ..." Ogong said, frowning. 

Jim took in the simplistic data fed to him. A stronghold was off in the distance, almost due north of their current position. But what was that information worth, when he didn't know what a stronghold was nor how far away they had to go to reach it? The other two blips, one east and one west, tore towards the centre of the radar. In both directions, a sandy plume of smoke billowed into the still desert air. Jim knew what it was like to be ambushed in a desert, and he knew what was coming.

"Can anyone see anything?" the gaunt man said, flat hand against his forehead, peering into the horizon.

"Nothing except those big clouds," Ogong said. "I wonder what's making those?"

Raynor's lips tightened. "I don't know, but I gotta feelin' we don't wanna find out." The black plating on the CMC armour's leg peeled back to reveal a compartment. Jim reached in and pulled out his C-14 Impaler rifle, the compartment plating sliding back into place. He held it across his chest as he gazed into the distance. "We gotta move. I don't know how far this stronghold is, or what we'll find there, but it sure beats waitin' here for whatever those things are."

Somerled nodded. "Right. Let's get moving."

The trio ran across the sands. Ogong scampered ahead, his light frame and monkey-ish movements giving him a clear speed advantage. Somerled followed close behind, and Jim brought up the rear in his clunky marine suit. A thought crossed his mind; the footprints that he was leaving in his wake would surely lead their pursuers straight to them. Yet there was no time to stop and cover their tracks, and if those things coming for them already knew where they were, track-covering wasn't going to throw them off the trail.

"Stay frosty, guys," Jim said to his companions. "We got no idea what we're in for. There could be more surprises on the way, so keep your eyes peeled." To himself, he said, "Adjutant, you got any info on those things that are chasin' us?"

A female voice sounded in Jim's helmet. "Negative, commander. Approaching targets cannot be identified."

"Figures. Don't suppose you can guess how far away we are from this stronghold this gadget keeps bleepin' about?"

"Negative, commander."

Jim sighed. "Guess we'll find out the old fashioned way. Bah. I hate the old fashioned way."

[Summer]

A questioning hum escaped Somerled’s throat, his eyes darting between the two rising plumes of dust and sand in the distance. With every unsteady step, sand sliding away beneath his feet, his vision bobbed and jumped erratically. Though there was no way to tell what was coming to rain on their parade, the storm spirit was certain of one thing. Whatever the hell was booking it towards them was damn confident, and confidence like that probably meant it wouldn’t be fun to tangle with.

“Ahhh...” the monster released a strained sigh, raising his arm and trying his best to hold the device steady in front of his face. This damnable device could locate persons and places of all kinds, but apparently had no way to tell distance of all things. Or perhaps it could only give a rough estimation, and that was why it wasn’t giving any solid numbers. “Speaking of numbers... Sonny.” Somerled mumbled, trying to catch his other half’s attention. “Seeing as how you have nothing better to do, see what you can extrapolate from these dots.”

“They’re gonna catch up,” the sun spirit immediately responded, borrowing their shared voice. “That’s all I can give you. Got nothing new unless you give me a few minutes to crunch the numbers.”

“Well then,” Somerled grumbled, left arm dropping back to his side, and right reaching into the pocket of his coat. His hand closed around the familiar leather of his bullwhip, and yanked it out, taking care to keep it rolled up for now. In a few minutes, those numbers would be useless. An unsettling smile spread across his lips. “Looks like we’ll just have to blow them away extra hard. Take no chances,” he paused for a brief moment, and raised his voice, loud enough for Raynor and Ogong to hear. “They’re definitely catching up, be prepared.” They probably already knew, but more preparation didn't hurt.

[Dr. McNinja]

"Well, at least we know something, right?"

Ogong scratched his head and reached behind his back for his staff.

"Oy!" the monkey snapped, "Yeo-ee-pil! Wake up!"

The staff hovered in mid-air, then seemed to stretch, as if it was a dog rudely awakened from a nap.

"Why?" the staff mumbled, "we expecting company?"

"Apparently," Ogong said through grit teeth.

The excessively armored soldier was staring at the weapon. "Is... how does that thing work?"

"Hm?" the monkey replied, "Oh, that thing. It's magic. Don't worry about it."

The weapon snapped one end towards Ogong, as if it was a head. It started smacking the back of the monkey's head.

"The hell do you mean, 'that thing'? I am a noble and legendary weapon crafted by millenia of-"

Ogong snatched it out of the air, whispering, "Quiet. We have no idea what these things are or where exactly they are."

The staff silenced itself, but wriggled out of Ogong's grip. Its voice became exponentially quieter.

"Good thing you called me then. You think these are the Darklings that we're hunting?"

"Well, at least it'll beat all this walking," Ogong mumbled, cracking his knuckles, "Hey, given how fast these things are apparently moving, you think maybe they're riding something? We might get there fast-"

A gust of wind exploded at the ground beneath the monkey's feet. He barely had enough time to cover his face, though sand still inexplicably got into his eyes and mouth.

"Okay, whatever these guys are, I think they just blew sand into my face," Ogong reported.

"They're not here yet," Jim replied.

"I refuse to believe that that was natural."

The ground where the sand had exploded from was now trembling. Ogong gripped Yeo-Ee-Pil tighter, prompting the weapon to straighten and fall silent. Somerled lifted his bullwhip, for some reason. Jim lifted his huge glowing club, pointing the tip at the spot. He had explained that it was not a club, but something called a "rifle", whatever that meant.

The sand exploded once more, revealing a worm that was too big for its own good. Somerled let loose the whip, wrapping around the worm and pulling to closer. Ogong clubbed it, casting a spell. Jim's "rifle" started blasting tinier fireballs at it so fast it almost tore the worm in half. Then Somerled hit it with a lightning bolt, followed shortly by Ogong's fireball.

The only remains left of the sand worm were its rather annihilated ashes.

"Well," Jim said, his visor lifting, "I think we got it."

"That was easy," Ogong scoffed.

"I think you spoke too soon," Somerled said, "my device is still reporting two hostiles, still coming in hot."

Ogong glanced at his own device. "So... in other words, we just annihilated a random sand worm?"

Jim lifted his rifle again. "Get ready."

Ogong raised an eyebrow and looked where he was looking. The clouds were coming closer.

[Nebula]

A high-pitched, wordless howl rose up from the distance. Some inarticulate, almost primal screech, savage and signaling only one thing: whoever was making it had found prey. It was followed moments later by an answering shriek, coming from the opposite direction. And shortly afterward, more sound slowly came into relevance across the dunes. From one way, the wheezing, sputtering cough of an engine, revving unnecessarily loud, heralding a vehicle speeding over the sands. From the other, quieter and harder to pick out, the pounding of hooves on the sands, a steady, heavy rhythm.

As the approaching hostiles drew closer, the emblems on the radar grew more distinct, spreading out. Each approaching side spread out, into multiple individual signals. Three, from the engine-roaring side, and two, from the horse-powered side.

Streaking over a dune, only a hundred meters or so distant, a rough, rusted amalgam of armored plating, tires, and squealing engine came sailing into the air, hurtling several dozen feet through the air before hitting sand again, swerving crazily and throwing up huge clouds of dust, sand, and smoke from engine exhaust. Roaring out of the cloud of impact, the occupants could be seen. Humanoid, in at least general stature and shape. Covered in all manner of piecemeal armor and gear, and with the driver and one riding shotgun both adorned with face-concealing masks. Shotgun-rider had a shotgun clutched in one hand, leaning out the side of the vehicle at a crazy angle. And a third occupant, standing in the rear and leaning over the front seat, arms braced on the seats in front of him. A full-head mask covered them, with several thick spikes and bolts seemingly rammed through it, into the skull, and down the back, from which hung all manner of small chains, ropes and charms. From all of them, eyes blazed bright red, even through the masks.

The other way, a pair of horse-like creatures, but leaner, distorted and twisted, with six legs, came scrabbling and galloping over dunes. Riders swathed in heavy, concealing robes and bandages, hoods shrouding faces. Only their eyes, burning bright, piercing red, could be seen of their face. Both had a rifle slung over their back, and each had a weapon drawn in one hand -- a long, curved sword for one, and a slim, wickedly-sharp spear for the other -- and held out, ready to strike with their full momentum as they charged down the liberators.

As if the raiders and psychopaths out in the deserts weren't bad enough. Now they were even more crazy, thanks to Nebula.

Encounter

Five darkling raiders have found you. As a whole, the collective group has stats of 4/3/3/2. Individually, they will of course be weaker, but don't underestimate them. They'll work well as a group.

They all have the Survival power, along with the Physical Strength and Ranged proficiencies. The two on horseback have the Master Acrobat power, if forced to dismount, and the three in the buggy have the Regeneration (Basic) power. They have various firearms and melee implements, and the leader (the one with all the bolts jammed through his head) is capable of breathing fire.

You have four days to make one post, up to 1000 words, to contend with the threat. Happy hunting.

[Dr. McNinja]

"Uh, not three," Ogong said, "It looks more like... five."

Jim finished reloading his rifle and pointed it at the dust cloud. "Getting similar readings over here. Get ready for a ride."

Ogong's ears perked. "Oh! You got someone coming to help out?"

The other two Primes looked at him exasperatedly. The monkey's shoulders sagged.

"Just... you know. It's hot."

Ogong peered at the cloud, gripping his staff tighter. The marauders were almost upon them. Feeling magical power seep into his arms and shoulders, he pictured the brushstrokes of a word.

"I got this," the monkey muttered. He then bellowed, "Bungae neryuhra! CHUN!"

Ogong thrust a fist forward, a ring of arcane energy projecting over his knuckles. Awesome power filled the air, channeling sparks and static energy through its molecules.

Then the circle fizzled away.

"What the hell?" Ogong exclaimed, glaring at the staff.

"Uh... that wasn't me," Yeo-Ee-Pil noted.

The monkey glanced upwards, just in time for a club to graze his shoulder. Nevertheless the impact flung him backwards. Sun landed painfully on his back, and the sand gave way beneath him. He struggled back up. Jim was firing, perhaps landing some shots on the mauraders, and Somerled managed to narrowly avoid the explosive blast aimed for his face.

Jim ran after him. "Sun! You alright, kid?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the monkey growled, "Alright, Yeo-Ee-Pil, what spells can we cast?"

"Uh... I don't know. Try Hwa."

The monkey shoved the soldier aside, once more ready to fight. The marauders turned their vehicles, preparing to charge again. The horseman were now almost upon them on the other side. Jim aimed his rifle. Somerled glanced around helplessly. Sun Ogong rolled his eyes at the gray man and prepared another spell. He felt it flow from the hand holding the staff through his shoulders and into his left hand, like an electric current. He opened his left hand, and his fingertips became anchors for the energy to latch onto. He felt magic pool inside his palm, then once more pictured the brushstrokes in his mind. The same brushstrokes appeared behind his head, and another arcane circle appeared where the magic had gathered.

"Taewuhra! HWA!!"

The arcane circle suddenly ignited, as gasoline does from a lit match. The circle then seemed to burn away, leaving Ogong with a burning hand. Jim glanced at the monkey nervously, but Ogong seemed pretty okay with his left hand being on fire.

Moving quickly, Ogong threw his left hand forward, the momentum carrying the flames on his hand into the air. The resulting fireball soared through the air, pointed directly at a horseman.

To the trio's shock, the horseman leapt off the horse into the air, somersaulting in the air as the fireball passed under him. He landed once more on the horse and continued to ride. The fireball instead extinguished after a few more moments.

Ogong, in his frustration, swung his club at one of the passing horseman. Instead of knocking them down, however, the marauder instead grabbed the staff, yanking the monkey back with him. Yeo-Ee-Pil started whining.

"Oooookay you guys are stretching me out you guys are stretching me-"

Ogong quickly recovered from the surprise and gave the staff a hard pull. The marauder didn't budge, but the monkey flew forward a short distance. He landed on the horse. The marauder, still riding, attempted to swing the staff back at the monkey, perhaps hoping to knock him off. Instead, the staff didn't budge, to the marauder's confusion. Ogong grasped it again and pulled it backwards. The marauder was still holding on to the staff, but not to the horse. He flew off the horse, and Ogong hopped off himself.

The marauder calmly landed on his feet. Ogong sighed.

"I threw you off a horse," the monkey shouted, "You should not have landed so easily."

His opponent chuckled. "Says the boy who jumped off of the horse."

"Yeah, well, I'm a monkey," Ogong said. He started walking forward, trailing the tip of the still-complaining staff in the sand. The marauder followed suit. "We're pretty good at falling."

"Well, then," the marauder growled, almost within reach, "Let me teach you how to stay down."

The marauder slashed with his machete, which Ogong ducked. He jabbed forward with the staff, causing the marauder to crumple in pain. The marauder then did a spin-kick, landing a solid blow to Ogong's face. The monkey, still dazed, swung the staff wildly in hopes of catching his opponent. In a clash of steel, the marauder parried and attempted to shove the blade through Ogong's head. Fortunately, a loud bang pushed the marauder aside. Ogong looked to see where the noise had come from, and saw Jim holding a smoking rifle.

"You're welcome," the gunman said.

Somerled was close behind him. The trio looked to see where the mechanic vehicle was. They were still approaching, perhaps about 10 kilometers away.

"I can't conjure my storms for some reason," Somerled called out, "I can't help you unless we get them on the ground."

"Well, they seem good at dodging my fireballs," Ogong replied.

"Not their rides," Jim replied, "See that shimmer above the engine?"

Ogong looked closely, noticing the air warp especially harshly above the hood of the car.

"Yeah," the monkey replied.

"Overheating," Jim explained, "I'd hate to see what happens with even more heat."

The monkey blinked blankly at the titanic war machine.

"The fireball?"

"OH RIGHT." Ogong once more summoned a fireball and flung it at the buggy.

The resulting explosion forced the trio to cover their eyes. Hope fluttered in Ogong's chest. But from the burnt and smoldering sands slowly rose the three marauders, their burns and cuts slowly healing.

"That hardly seems fair," Ogong muttered.

[Summer]

Somerled’s eyes rapidly scanned the battlefield, flicking over every figure and every scrap of burning metal. Four on the ground, one still riding. All have guns. A heavy sigh escaped the monster as he loosened his grasp on the whip, allowing the rolled-up weapon to unfurl and fall into the sand. The three who emerged from the wreckage of their vehicle were doing much better than they had any right to, and if they played their cards smart, they’d try and use their range advantage to keep the trio at bay. 

Sand slipped away from beneath the storm spirit’s boots, as he kicked forward, lunging for the raider that had been dazed from Raynor’s attack. His left hand jerked out, lashing his whip towards the cloaked marauder’s neck. Surprisingly coherent, his target’s arm shot up, forearm intercepting the leather missile, which wrapped around its forearm. Electricity began to course through Somerled’s body and he gave a hefty yank, the raider’s shoulder popping as it was suddenly flying towards the monster.

CRACK

Lightning flashed brilliantly from the spirit’s right arm, as it rocketed forward in an instant, slamming into the bandit’s masked face. Pain exploded in Somerled’s hand from the very bones themselves, and the now limp body of his victim was launched back towards where he’d been pulled from, dragging him with. The monster gritted his teeth, trying to fight back the throbbing in his hand as he crashed into the sand next to the unconscious darkling.

“Close the distance!” he shouted, turning his head up towards Raynor just as the first shots began to crack out. The metal clad man yelled some sort of affirmative back, and began to charge the group, metallic pings ringing through the air as their bullets ricocheted harmlessly off his armor. Somerled turned back towards the meat shield lying beside him, right hand scoring a deep furrow through the sand as he reached forward with it, closing it around its neck in spite of the pain, and lifting them both up to a stand.

“Follow him!” He barked out another order, whipping his head around to face Sun as he propped his improvised barrier against his shoulder. “I’ll keep the cavalry at bay!”

“Got it!” the monkey boy responded, charging off to duck behind Raynor. With a quick and deft movement, Somerled jerked the bullwhip back harshly, pulling the darkling’s limp left arm into a pin against its back, before looping it around, dragging the plaited leather across its clothed throat and holding the whole makeshift pulley taut. Left arm bound, breathing restricted, should be good if it regains consciousness. The storm spirit released his grip on the raider’s throat, dropping his arm a bit further down and wrapping it around its chest.

Now with the unconscious bandit properly secured, Somerled hefted it just barely off the ground, and kicked forward, sand bursting up all around him as bullets missed their mark. He paid all those misses no mind, however, keeping his eyes fixed on the last mounted bandit, looping around for another charge. Careful to keep the darkling between himself and all the bullets flying at him, the monster sprinted to get in the cavalry’s way.

Unable to get to his allies without first going through the spirit, the mounted raider and its demonic, six legged horse bore down on him, spear lowered and ready to impale. Hooves beat menacingly against the ground, and the rider of the beast shouted unintelligible jeers, but the unarmed youkai stood steadfast, tightening his grip on the handle of his whip. Finally, just as the horseman was upon him, his arms heaved with a monstrous strength, and the meat shield was whipped around almost effortlessly, displacing Somerled with the momentum and putting it right in the way of the spear.

With a delicious crunch, the metal-tipped pole tore its way straight through the chest of the first raider, and Somerled immediately released his grip on everything but his trusty bullwhip. Despite just riding down its own ally, the horseman pressed on, dragging it forward. A loud pop sounded from the monster’s shoulder as his arm tore out of its socket and he was flung off his feet, pulled along with the skewered raider. He skidded along the dunes for a few meters, eyes clenched as closed as he could make them as sand spilled into every crevice and opening in his clothing, before he ground to a halt, hand somehow still gripping the whip. Dislocation, not too bad.

Somerled sprung to his feet, releasing his whip and forcing his eyes open. He counted his blessings that he could still see after that little spill. He was much less thankful for the now-two conscious raiders also rising to their feet, one spitting sand out of its mouth, the other trying to dislodge the spear stuck in its ribcage. Well at least the gunfire stopped.

[Jim Raynor]

Jim barrelled towards the smoking chassis, leaving the thin man to handle two of the ugly monsters on his own. The monkey kid fell in behind, placing himself between Raynor's marine armour and the three bandits. Bullets sang past them, some clanging against his metal shell, others spurting sand as they slammed at their feet.
 
"What are those things?" the monkey boy said. "The angry hornet things?"
 
"Bullets?" Jim said.
 
"Do they sting?"
 
"More than a hornet, that's for sure."
 
"Ooh. I'll make sure I'll dodge them then."
 
Jim chuckled and thrust his left forearm forward. "You do that and I'll be mighty impressed."
 
A slit opened and metallic segments rolled out of Jim's forearm. They clinked as they rolled down and climbed up until they covered most of Raynor's front, then shuttered into place. Bullets pelted into his arm mounted shield, tinging like a heavy rain drops on a tin roof. Lifting the Impaler rifle with one arm was tricky, but he balanced it close to the edge of his shield and peered through the thin porthole. Firing it would be another matter; the recoil on the weapon could dislocate a man's shoulder when not wearing the marine suit and using it without two hands would at least make his shots less accurate.
 
Jim kneeled and took aim. The three masked marauders ducked behind the flaming chassis of their destroyed vehicle, leaning over and around it to launch volleys of lead. Taking sight as best he could as his shield shuddered from constant impacts, Jim squeezed the trigger and fired a burst of bullets. Two of the three spikes jutted into the blackened hood and the other sped off into the sky. Raynor drew his weapon level with his targets again and shot with similar results. He grunted.
 
"Dammit. Firin' this with one hand ain't gonna work." The bullets kept on coming, and the terran commander knew his shield wouldn't hold out forever.
 
"Let me have a try," Sun Ogong said, clambering onto Jim's rounded shoulder. He glanced over the top lip of the shield, sized up his targets, and quickly ducked down again.
 
"You gonna light your hand on fire again? Might be a good idea."
 
"Oh yeah!" The monkey kid brought flames to his skin and hurled them over the shield. The fireball detonated just short of one of their attackers, missing him but the resulting shockwave knocked him over. A thin shroud of sandy dust settled over the area, making it difficult for the marauders to see. Though if they couldn't see the big rectangular sheet of metal through the haze, they were pretty useless.
 
"Ah!" Ogong chirped. "It's really hard to aim when all those ... bullets? come whizzing at me."
 
"I've seen my fair share of bullets and it don't get any easier," Jim said.
 
A bullet tore a shred of neosteel from the side edge of the shield. Jim winced. He didn't expect it start breaking down so soon.
 
"For cryin' out loud, how many clips do they have with them? This Omniverse better not have endless bullet dispensin' guns or some shit."
 
Sun Ogong tossed another flaming orb at their aggressors, though his timid aim sent the attack far to the right of its intended target. "What are we going to do?"
 
"I can only think of one thing," Raynor said, his arm tiring from the endless hammering of bullets on his shield. "But I can't do it with one arm. I need your help."
 
Sun Ogong seemed to perk up at the request. "What do you need me to do?"
 
Jim moved his rifle behind the shield. "See that little bit'a metal stickin' out the side of the gun there?"
 
"No."
 
"Just there."
 
"I don't see it."
 
"How do you not see it? It's just that metal bit right there!"
 
"Which bit? It's all metal!"
 
"C'mon kid!" Jim tapped the protruding tab against his visor with enough force to almost crack it. "There! See it?"
 
"Oh, that! Yes, I see it!"
 
"Pull it towards me, then hit the little red button that it reveals."
 
"OK ..." Ogong descended down Raynor's armoured chest and stood by the rifle. Jim watched as the monkey boy pinched the metal tab and slid it backwards. A small compartment opened up, housing the little red button.
 
"Quick, push it!"
 
Ogong clicked it in and a stout cylindrical chamber lowered from the base of the weapon.
 
"What's that?" the monkey boy asked.
 
"My own version of a fireball."
 
Jim tilted the Impaler rifle skyward at an angle and pulled the trigger. A grenade popped out of the new chamber and sailed over the shield. Their vagabond foes seemed to recognise the incoming projectile, as they scrambled further back from their smouldering cover. Fire and smoke raged as the grenade tore itself apart, the force rattling the worn shield and travelling into Jim's bones.
 
The shield fell to pieces as Raynor stood up, gripping his rifle in both hands. He edged around the blackened car frame, searching for his dead foes, but found nothing.
 
"No blood, no bodies ... where'd they-"
 
The three bandits burst from behind a dune, screaming and ranting as they charged Jim and Ogong.
 
"Ah. There they are."

[Nebula]

With a sickening, twisting crunch and squelch, the impaled darkling succeeded in ripping the spear from its chest, accompanied by an almost comical fountain of dark, viscous blood. It shrugged, tossing the weapon back to its partner, who snagged it from the air and spat out another glob of sand from its mouth. Cracked, yellowing and blackened teeth twisted into a snarl, the bandages once swathing its face ripped and torn by its impromptu dismount from its steed. Taking the spear in both hands, it slowly paced toward Somerled, circling slightly to one side, moving sinuously over the treacherous sands, the loose and sliding ground not hindering its movements at all. Its partner moved in a similar fashion, almost slithering smoothly over the sandy ground as it circled around the opposite direction, hands held forward and flexing, grasping at the air and showing small, though gleaming and wickedly sharp, claws on its fingers. They both let out a hissing snarl, backed by a deep, guttural growling noise. Like some massive reptile giving a warning it was unhappy. And then with a simultaneous screech, high-pitched and ear-piercing, they struck, lunging in from either side. Hopping this way and that in swift, bounding strides they clambered, hopped, scrabbled, ducked, threw up clouds of sand, and pounced, spear and claws working in tandem to give the monster as tough a time of it as they could. It was wild, it was savage, it was messy, but it was effective and it was coordinated. When one of t hem pulled back to scurry about for another lunge, the other one darted in to strike and harry, always throwing up as much sand and grit as they could with their movements, fully exploiting their long, ragged robes to catch and disperse the airborne particulate.


The three raiders confronting the marine and the monkey burst from the sand dune, screaming in wordless, inarticulate rage. The leader, his voice an inhumanly deep, reverberating bass rumble, rose over his fellows in volume, giving a long, drawn-out bellow. It held no words, no meaning, but it shook the very sands and spurned his underlings on. Whether out of some supernatural effect, or just to get slightly further away from that unearthly noise, it was hard to say. But they leaped and charged, mangled firearms now turned into clubs and bludgeoning tools as they blindly hopped and surged into the fray. The leader, meanwhile, paced forward more slowly, reaching into the mess of spikes and bolts jammed into his back and drawing forth a weapon of his own: a long, curved machete, welded haphazardly to a long, spiked chain, bearing what looked disturbingly like a razor-sharpened meathook at the other end. Thick plumes of smoke started to belch from the gasmask he wore, and a shimmering haze of heat grew around him, flames dancing in the dark lenses of the face-covering apparatus.

And so things continue.

The entire darkling raider squad has been banged up and injured, but they're still going strong (mostly). Keep up the fight and finish 'em off.

Injury Rundown:
-- Somerled suffers a Minor Injury (dislocated shoulder) -- 2 points of damage
-- Jim and Ogong suffer 1 point of damage from general battle chaos and angry bullet massages

Everyone has four days and one post, up to 1000 words. You're cleared to finish the group off this round, so go wild.

[Summer]

The two darklings continued to tenaciously harass Somerled, careful to stay on opposite sides of him even as they dipped in for a quick slash or poke. The monster whipped around with each prod, barely managing keeping pace with their steady footing. He swung a frantic strike with his right hand at the clawed raider, spinning around in the hope he could catch it as it stepped in for another swipe, but rather than going for an attack, it flung out its arm and all the dust in its rags went right into the spirit’s face.

“Fuck!” A short, sharp exclamation escaped Somerled, his eyes now burning. “Off!” He finished his shout and leapt forward. He didn’t need to see if the enemy was in his grasp. His right hand grabbed onto what he assumed was its upper arm, and his momentum carried both of them right off their feet and onto the sand. The bandit’s free arm scrabbled along the monster’s back, failing to find any flesh through his jacket. Somerled sprung back up again, the clawed hand of his opponent falling away, and his grip shifting along its captured arm to his wrist.

“Fuck you and your god damn teamwork!” he yelled, and with one foot planted solidly on the darkling’s chest, he gave a mighty yank, tearing its arm right out of its shoulder with a beautiful fountain of blood. The monster whipped around again, eyes blinking furiously, clearing out just enough sand so that he could faintly see. Through his blurred vision, he could make out the rough silhouette of the second, spear-wielding outlaw charging him down. He kicked off the chest of the first bandit, leaping to the side.

Somerled swung the arm forward by the wrist as the darkling frantically tried to bring the spear to bear, hoping to put the pointy bit between it and the frenzied, limb-wielding youkai. The wooden shaft slammed into the spirit’s limp arm and the severed appendage cracked the bandit’s head simultaneously. The raider reeled backwards, head snapping to the side, but the monster didn’t do so much as flinch, and pressed on, releasing his grip on the arm on the follow through and letting it fly away to safety. His now-free hand shot down, closing around the shaft just below the spearhead with a powerful grip.

Putting all his weight onto his left leg and leaning slightly away from his opponent, he lifted up his right leg. A tremendous crack sounded as he put his sole right through the darkling’s left knee, bone and cartilage shattering beneath his monstrous strength. With a  single, swift motion, he twisted away, planting his foot back onto semi-solid ground, ripping the spear right out of its grip, and whipping around the commandeered weapon with all his might.

CRACK

Wood splintered and exploded against the head of the one-armed bandit, who now suffered the misfortune of standing up too soon. The sheer force of the strike knocked it off its feet yet again, and tore the pole free from Somerled’s grasp.

“Ganging up like fucking cowards!” he shouted, spinning around yet again to face the outlaw he liberated the weapon from. The robed being leaped forward with its one good leg, snarling and screaming, barreling into the monster, throwing them both back onto the ground. Clawed hands scrabbled against his face, tearing shallow wounds through his skin. Gritting his teeth against the rather weak onslaught, Somerled shot his good hand up, bringing it between him and the bandit straddling him, and closed it around its face with a crushing grip. Bone creaked and cracked beneath his grasp, and with a swift, powerful motion, he dragged the raider off of him and to the side, its clawed fingers leaving furrows in his cheeks as it desperately tried to hold on.

The storm spirit rose to his feet once again, lifting the darkling with him, which was now clawing at the arm gripping him, but finding no purchase through his coat. He cast a quick glance over to where his other enemy had been knocked over, a cruel grin spreading across his face as he saw its figure still laying there, motionless. Without so much as a word, the monster bounded over to its form, lifting his struggling foe up over his head, and with all the strength he could muster, slammed it down again, their two heads colliding with a solid and satisfying crack.

“You got in a little over your heads, don’tcha think?” Somerled said after a moment, releasing his grip on the outlaw’s head and straightening up.

“I think they were a bit too hot-headed.” For a brief moment, his other half hijacked his voice.

“In the end, they were headstrong for their own good.” The storm spirit responded and fell silent, but Sonny made no effort to pick up where he left off. “I guess I’ll go fuck myself then.” He leaned down again, using his one good hand to remove the rifles from their backs, and using his foot to hold down the barrels, bent them until they were unusable. Just in case they somehow survived that. The robes and bandages that covered them completely also concealed whatever wounds they might have, so he couldn’t accurately estimate how dead they were. Then, planting his foot onto the one-armed bandit, he bent over and grabbed hold of his bullwhip, still attached to its arm. His arm strained with monstrous strength, and rather than spending the time unwinding it, he tore that arm off as well, keeping the leather whip wrapped around it and turning it into a makeshift, meaty flail. Wordlessly, Somerled spun on his heel, and began to sprint back to where his allies were fighting.

[Dr. McNinja]

Ogong watched in awe on Jim's shoulder as small metal canisters were launched with a deep "PUNG" from under Jim's rifle. They seemed to be mechanical fireballs, almost - small totems that were preset to cast a version of Ogong's flame spells. What's more, he was shooting them much faster than Ogong or even Master Barley ever could. When Jim finished blasting the two raiders, he stood up. Ogong hopped lightly off of the soldier's shoulders. Ogong drew Yeo-Ee-Pil, slightly jealous.

"We need to get us one of those," Yeo-Ee-Pil muttered.

Jim quietly chuckled before moving closer.

"No blood, no bodies, where'd they-"

The sand erupted behind them. Ogong faced the sound, gripping Yeo-Ee-Pil warily. Jim turned as well and sighed.

"Ah. There they are."

Ogong smirked. "Dibs on the big one with the sweh-gyum*!"

He sprinted forward, sand trailing behind his heels. He ducked and rolled to avoid the two henchmen, going straight for the head honcho. Leaping into the air, he lifted his club high above his head and swung downwards.

Before he got anywhere close to the baddie, a bloody, rusty chain wrapped around the staff.

"Uhhh, Ogong?" Yeo-Ee-Pil cried out, "HELP!"

The staff was yanked out of the monkey's hands. The momentum also threw Ogong off his original trajectory, causing him to fall forward sooner than planned. The misstep was almost a lethal one - if Ogong wasn't so short, his head might have been the temporary home of a giant meat hook.

"Why do you guys keep taking Yeo-Ee-Pil? That staff is NOT as good as you guys think!" the monkey howled, brushing sand off of his clothes. Yeo-Ee-Pil protested the claim, but his mouth(?) was in the sand.

The big guy said nothing. He just snarled, swinging the vicious chain around like a murder lasso.

He let the chain fly. Ogong stepped casually to the left, letting the chain pass him. He reached up to grab the chain, hopefully disarm the big guy right back, but the man was stronger and faster than he expected. The blade of the machete flew back into the bandit's grasp, slicing Ogong's palm on the way. The monkey yelped, gripping his wrist to inspect the wound. The cut was deep, and, to Ogong's horror, on his left hand. It was the hand that he casted magic with.

He looked at the bandit with fury. The leader was now swinging the weapon in a circle over his head, the steel chain screeching. He was going for another run.

With great pain, Ogong cast another fireball. The magical energy seemed to leak a little through the cut, weakening the fireball.

"Dammit..."

Ogong, for the first time in a while, had a thought in the middle of a fight. He realized sharpshooting wasn't going to happen with his fireballs, especially since the bandit seemed very skilled with his makeshift sweh-gyum. In fact, if anything, Jim needed Ogong to cause some melee distraction to the group while he shot them from a distance.

Well, distracting was what he was good at.

The other two minions slowly turned around, their lack of speed likely due to having been pulled forcibly from fast-moving vehicles and, well, exploding. Ogong lined himself up so that he stood between one minion and the big guy. He threw the fireball.

With no effort whatsoever, the baddie knocked the fireball off-course with the meathook, and in the same movement launched the machete forward. Thanks to the distracting fireball, Ogong was able to simply step to the side once more, standing relatively in between the two minions. The rusty blade embedded itself into the chest of a minion, who emitted a disarming "Mur?" from his mouth. The leader yanked the machete sideways, hoping to lop off the monkey's head. But he was a monkey. A halfhearted duck rendered the swing useless, instead landing inside the neck of the other minion.

"Dummy," the monkey taunted.

The leader roared in frustration and pulled the machete backwards. He started swinging the chain again, rebuilding momentum. Ogong slowly ran forward, watching the chain's movement closely. The leader launched the meathook forward, which Ogong dodged with an acrobatic flip. Before the leader could recover the weapon, Ogong launched himself forward as fast as he could, tackling the leader and pinning him to the dunes.

"Hey, gorgeous," Ogong said.

The leader responded by roaring flames at the monkey's face, which Ogong barely dodged. Even still, his front hairs were singed.

"OH FOR GOODNESS SAKE"

Ogong flipped, kicking the leader in the face from the side at the same time to stop the firebreathing. Ignoring the pain from kicking screws while barefeet, he clenched the chain and flung it as far as he could.

The leader slowly stood up, preparing to shoot fire once more. Ogong reached behind him, feeling Yeo-Ee-Pil with his fingertips. He yanked the staff from the sand.

"You finally pull me out, you ungrateful-"

Ogong launched the staff like a lance into the leader's mouth and disrupted the fire. Ogong kicked the leader back, grabbing the staff and brandishing it once more.

"Sorry, Yeo-Ee-Pil."

"Yeah, yeah, you'll be sorry when I shove your face down a flame-breathing throat."

Jim reached out and grabbed Ogong by the back of the hoodie.

"Try working together next time," the soldier muttered.

Ogong shrugged. "Worked out in the end, didn't it?"

"You almost got both of us killed."

"Both...?"

Jim pointed to one of the minions, who lay in the sand smoldering and full of holes.

"Oh. My bad."

Somerled joined them. Ogong eyed him.

"Uh... your arm."

Somerled shrugged and lifted his whip. "I got a spare."

Ogong grimaced and turned his attention to the leader and his one remaining minion.

* Korean for kusarigama, the whippy-blade weapon that the leader has

[Jim Raynor]

The leader of the bandits swung his meathook above his head, smoke issuing from his mouth hole of his mask. The remaining minion spouted jibberish and shook his hands at the sky. Jim had seen some wackos in his time, but these guys took the cake.
 
Jim primed another grenade and took aim. "Hey, ugly!" They both looked, though he was referring to either of them. "Heh. Made you look."
 
A compact metal container popped from the Impaler and landed right at the feet of their enemies. Jim's smile dropped when the expected explosion failed to arrive.
 
"Uh ... what happened to your fireball?" Sun Ogong asked.
 
"Must'a been defective." Jim struck the rifle with a metal hand. Hitting his old vulture used to make it start again, why not this thing? "S'all good, I gotta 'nother one in the-"
 
The bandit minion screeched and leaped through the air, latching onto Jim.
 
"You got him, Jim!" Ogong called out. "We'll distract the big one!"
 
"Hey! You gotta deathwish or somethin'?" Jim yelled, but the minion didn't pay any attention. Wielding a giant wrench with various sharp spikes and knives welded to its frame, he thrashed Jim's armour with it. Every collision boomed inside his armour, scratching or denting his black paint job. Jim tried swatting the annoyance from his chest with his rifle, but he overestimated his strength and his robotic fingers slipped from the weapon's grip, hurling into the sands. The madman belting his body blocked view of all else save patches of sky behind his painted mask, so searching for it wasn't an option.
 
The crude wrench-club smacked against his visor, the reinforced glass shuddering. A few more unbridled hits and its strength would give way, showering Raynor with glass and providing easy access for the next strike to burrow into his brain matter.
 
Jim seized the bandit minion's flailing arms with his own metal ones and held him off his chest. Even through his servos and steel plating, the tremors of the enemy's struggles made themselves felt. "You're a crazy sum'bitch, you know that?"
 
The bandit minion screamed frantically, his legs pumping up and down in a vain attempt to free himself.
 
"Don't see someone like you wantin' a second chance, let alone usin' it."
 
"Hey!" Somerfeld's voice reached him. Jim looked past his captured foe, through the scrapes and scratches that muddled the visor, to his two companions battling the head honcho. Flames belched from his spiked infested mask. "When you're done with your little chat with your friend there, we could really use some help!"
 
"Oh! Right. Well, your time's up, fella. Least I can do is make sure it's quick and painless."
 
"Jim!"
 
A gush of fire burst from behind the bandit minion, engulfing the small gaps of sky. Jim threw the maniac away and stumbled backwards, almost losing his balance as the rolling heat washed over his armour. The bandit screamed in a register that put goosebumps to the terran commander's flesh as he writhed beneath the harsh and brutal judgement of the flames.
 
The bandit leader approached, the last vestiges of smoke thinning from around his deranged mask.
 
Jim kept his steely gaze on the new threat while darting his eyes around the sandy surrounds, hoping to catch a glimmer of light bouncing off his Impaler rifle nearby. Nothing. Somerfeld and Ogong, hunched as if expecting a sudden attack, crept slowly behind the leader.
 
"He's tougher than he looks," Somerfeld said, whip dragging in the sands. "Don't let his appearance fool you."
 
"Son, that appearance might say a lotta things to me, but 'weak' ain't one of 'em."
 
Sun Ogong snarled. "I can do this!" He sprung into the air, hauling his staff over his shoulder.
 
The bandit leader turned his head, flames flickering from his mouth hole. He reared his head back, but as he jerked forward, a whip lashed out and coiled around his throat. Somerfeld gave the line a good yank and the bandit expelled a cloud of flame into the air, but straight up. With the way free, Ogong smiled again and took his swing.
 
Growling like a wild dog, the bandit grabbed the swinging pole with one hand. The slap of the staff onto his palm was enough to make a man wince but the crazy desert dweller barely budged. With his other hand, he tore the hooked machete through the whip, leaving a limp spiral of frayed leather that sagged over his chest. Somerfeld fumbled but kept his footing.
 
The bandit leader kneed Ogong in the gut with enough force to separate him from his staff. The monkey boy plopped into the sand, doubled over, the staff landing nearby. Somerfeld rushed from behind, but a savage haymaker crashed into his temple, knocking him to the ground. Those insane eyes focused on Raynor, and he still wasn't close enough to initiate.
 
Flames billowed towards him. Jim activated his arm mounted shield just in time to catch the first gust of fire.
 
"What I'd do to have my rifle right 'bout ..."
 
A glint of light at his feet caught his attention. He scooped out a handful of sand that rushed between fingers, revealing his faulty grenade. Not exactly what he wanted.
 
The heat abated. Jim peeked around the sizzling edge of his defence. Ogong clambered up the bandit's back and bashed his skull with his small fists. The machete swept dangerously close to the monkey boy as he jumped clear.
 
The bandit leader took in another breath.
 
"Jim!" Somerfeld shouted, blood trickling from his temple. "Throw the grenade!"
 
"Get clear!" Raynor collapsed his shield and tossed the grenade on a perfect arc. The bandit leader spewed flame as the projectile fell before his face. A second later, an explosion rung through the dunes, along with a fine red mist. The bandit's headless body tumbled into the sand.
 
"Well, that ain't the way to get a-head in life," Jim said, and Somerfeld shot him the strangest of glares.

[Nebula]

The bandit leader went down, his head only a memory. Viscous, black-tinged blood oozed from his neck, staining the sand and giving off an absolutely horrific smell. The other bandit, having been roasted by his own leader's flames, lay sizzling in the sand a short ways off. He, likewise, remained down, black ooze dripping from his wounds and burns. The ones that Somerled had dealt with lay where they had been put down, seeming to finally be out of commission. The last one, sporting a hefty new ventilation job, didn't so much as twitch, laying where he had dropped in the sand. All of them dead, after their frantic, manic struggle.

And with them down, the liberator aides of the group flickered to life again. The signal pointed ahead, as it ever had, further into the Dunes. 'STRONGHOLD DETECTED' it continued to say.

Ascending the next dune, laying in that direction, afforded the group of three a relatively clear view for quite a ways. Obscured by sand and heat haze beyond a certain point, it was hard to be clear, but they could see something. Some kind of...cluster of huge old rocks, or the ruins of a temple. A pyramid, maybe? And swarming around it were a fair number of people, or...a fair number of things. Little more than ant-like specks, from this distance. People, vehicles, large rocks, it was hard to tell. But a lot of activity, and over it all hung an ominous cloud of dust and smog. An almost cartoonish 'evil is here' sign.

Encounter complete!

Damage Report:
Everyone sustains 2 damage.

Everyone has five days and no word limit this time. Move on toward the stronghold, and commence action there as you like. More details can be provided about what you see upon getting closer at request, to flesh out what you get up to, just send a PM.

[Jim Raynor]

Jim flipped up his visor and examined the smoking bodies on the ground. He kicked the charred, melted remains of the bandit minion, just in case the crazy bastard survived his roasting. He'd smelt cooked flesh before, but something else about the maniac's situation made him stink all the more. Jim scowled, making conscious efforts to breathe through his mouth, but somehow the stench still twirled through his nostrils.
 
"Oh man. What did these guys eat?"
 
Ogong pointed at the headless bandit leader, a puddle of black ooze widening around his neck stump. "That's not the normal colour of blood, is it?"
 
"No, it definitely isn't," Somerfeld said, squatting by the thick sludge. "If it didn't come out of their bodies, I'd say it barely qualified as blood at all."
 
Jim knelt down, cushioning his metal knee into the yielding sand, and dragged his finger through the ebony fluid. Lifting the sample closer to his face, he watched it hug the fingertip, dripping with hesitance, falling in slow and thick globules. The smell was something he'd never had the displeasure of encountering before, and he knew what horrible bouquet a rotting zerg carcass produced. If he had to guess, it smelled like a combination of spoiled eggs, engine oil and vomit.
 
"Makes a man wonder how someone comes to be with this stuff pumpin' in their veins," Jim said, wiping as much of the sludge from his finger as he could. "It ain't natural."
 
"Maybe it has something to do with the dark chips that the doctor has us hunting," Somerfeld said, standing. 
 
"Or whatever creature's protectin' 'em."
 
"Commander," Jim's adjutant spoke up after a series of high pitched beeps, "the device is receiving new data."
 
"It is too!" Sun Ogong said, staring at the Liberator aide on his arm. "Looks like we might have found a stronghold!"
 
"Adjutant, bring up the intel on screen," Jim said as his visor flipped down.
 
The words 'STRONGHOLD DETECTED' flashed before him with an arrow pointing almost directly north. Nothing else appeared.
 
"What else you got?" Jim asked his AI. "Distance, size, fortifications?"
 
"No additional data has been provided by the device," the adjutant said.
 
"That doesn't matter," Sun Ogong said, scrambling up the dune. "An arrow's all we need!"
 
Somerfeld trudged up the sandy hill and Jim followed. At the peak, Raynor stared out into an almost flat plain of desert interspersed with slight, low peaks. The blazing sun lay down a swathe of stinging white light that reflected from the dunes, forcing Jim to squint, but even with the visual distraction, he was sure he could make the outlines of something out there. The waves of heat sizzling from the sands distorted the picture further, but Raynor thought he could see a ... castle? Pile of oddly shaped rocks? A forest of dead trees? It was no good. There wasn't enough definition from this distance. Yet a smoky shroud hovered above, as if some sort of industrial complex was disgorging some pollutant. Or it could have been a sandstorm, swirling it all around. Ugh, what was the use?
 
"Can you guys see that?" Jim asked, pointing at the blurry smudge on the horizon. "What's it look like to you?"
 
Somerfeld stared out, but Sun Ogong was the first to respond. "I don't know, but there are a lot of things buzzing around over there. Maybe flies?"
 
Jim peered closer. Now that the monkey boy had pointed it out, he noticed them too. Specks from this distance, but there were a hoard of black, indistinguishable objects flocking around the unclear object. 
 
"Whatever it is, it's likely the stronghold," Somerfeld said.
 
"Stands to reason," Jim said. "Guess we better head off. I don't think I can stand the stink of them bandits much longer."
 
Once he found his Impaler rifle and sequestered it safely inside his armour leg, the trio took off towards the assumed stronghold. Visor closed and air conditioning cranked, Jim marched next to Somerfeld, with the young Sun Ogong resting on Raynor's rounded shoulder pauldrons. Thankfully the battle hadn't seriously injured him, though he still had been battered around by the bandits. Somerfeld looked worse off, but he didn't seem too concerned about it. Jim thought about offering assistance, but he figured if the thin man hadn't mentioned it yet himself, there probably wasn't any great need to deal with it yet. It was the Omniverse after all, who knew what sort of creature Somerfeld really was?
 
"Are we there ye-"
 
"Start that nonsense again kid, and you can walk."
 
Ogong's spiky head appeared upside down over Jim's visor. "Well, what can we do to pass the time?"
 
Jim sighed. "You still got energy even after that big mess back there? All I wanna do is lie down in a comfy chair and have a whiskey."
 
"Whiskey? What's that?"
 
"Uh ... never mind. Somethin' you'll find out about when you're older." 
 
Ogong slipped from Jim's shoulder, shouting in surprise as he buried his face into the sand. He sat up, spitting grains from his mouth. "Hey, what'd you do that for?"
 
Jim's sudden stop had hardly been intentional. His right leg had sunk into the sand and stuck fast.
 
"Ugh, my leg's caught in the sand somehow," Jim said. He grasped his shin with both arms and pulled, but even the might of his mechanical armour wasn't enough to loose him. "Step back in case you get caught too."
 
The ground shuddered. Jim slipped down into the sand up to his knee.
 
"Jim!" Ogong shouted, stretching out, holding his staff out for Raynor to grasp.
 
"Let us help you," Somerfeld said.
 
"No, don't come any closer or you'll just get stuck here too. 'sides, it's not like either of you two scrawny fellas can lift me out in my suit." Jim planted his left foot and drove all of his strength through it. His heart leapt as his snagged leg budged an inch, and then fell as the solid sand beneath his left foot crumbled, sucking it in beside its twin. The sand crept up to his waist and showed no signs of slowing down.
 
He didn't want to abandon his armour. It was far too valuable to leave for an opportunistic bandit to acquire, but he was out of options. Either leave it or go down with it. "Adjutant, emergency eject, and in a hurry!"
 
The three quick beeps that signalled a failed action tightened Jim's gut. "CMC-400 emergency eject command failed. There is too much pressure to open the torso."
 
"Shit!" This wasn't how Jim Raynor was going to die! The unrelenting stranglehold of the shifting sands pressed against his metal shell, heightening the air density inside so much that it built inside his head. Yet if popped the visor and equalised the pressure, moments later sand would pour in and drown him.
 
His arms were buried, and no amount of forceful suggestion would move them.
 
Come on, what did this damn thing have that could save his skin? Grappling hook had nothing to use as an anchor and his two allies couldn't pull him to safety. Everything else was a weapon or a shield.
 
"Adjutant!" Jim yelled as a dull buzz thrummed in his ears. "Is there anythin' you can turn on that'll launch me? Somethin' to make me fly or jump or somethin'? ANYTHIN'?!"
 
"Affirmative, commander. A newly installed miniature version of the Reaper's jump jets are -"
 
Jim's eyeballs rolled in his head, so he shut his eyelids tightly, hoping he wasn't about to utter his last words. "I don't care, just turn the damn things on!"
 
The marine armour jolted. A loud rumbling originated from Jim's back, but his hearing was slowly dulling. Grains of sand like tumbling blocks fell over his visor, walling out the last untouched part of his suit.
 
Another intense rumble woke the terran commander with a start. Snapping his eyes wide open, Jim took in the sandy wasteland before him ... from ten metres up. 
 
"Holy shit! What just happened?"
 
Jim somersaulted as he plummeted back to the ground. Sun Ogong stared at him, apparently stunned by the unexpected lunge into the sky.
 
"Get outta the way, kid!"
 
The monkey boy snapped out of his reverie and scurried away on hands and feet just as Jim ploughed into the sand where he once stood. Jim immediately wrenched himself free and turned around. A hole had opened in the desert. Curtains of gold gushed into it. A faint trail of smoke that travelled into the air above it dissipated gradually in the slow wind.  
 
All three inched closer, peering into the black gap in the sands, though affording it the respect that it deserved.
 
Raynor popped his visor. "Wow. That was almost too close."
 
"What do you think is down there?" Sun Ogong said, unconsciously skulking forward.
 
Jim snatched the monkey boy's tail with a light pinch of his index finger and thumb and dropped the kid next to him. "Not worth fallin' in to find out."
 
"I hope there's no more of these traps around here," Somerfeld said. "There wasn't any warning."
 
"You're tellin' me," Jim said. "From now on, I think you two should walk out in front. If you get bogged, at least I can pull you out."
 
"Aw, so no more riding?" Sun Ogong said.
 
"Sorry, kid. Better than takin' a permanent nap under the sand."

[Dr. McNinja]

Ogong was tired again. He was poking the sand ahead of him every few meters with Yeo-Ee-Pil. One trap almost killing one of them was enough. He didn't want to imagine what would have happened if it was him in that pit, or Somerled.

"What..." he muttered.

The "Stronghold" was getting closer, to Ogong's delight. It was simply gushing with people, all skittering around like bugs looking for food.

"That ain't good," Jim mumbled.

Ogong shrugged. "I'm sure it's fine. Let's just go ahead and ask for some water."

The monkey leaned forward, cupping his hands like a tube around his mouth to amplify his shouting. "YOOOO! WE NEED HELP-"

Somerled grabbed his arm with his good shoulder. "No."

Ogong wrenched his arm from Somerled's grasp. "What?"

"Dammit, kid, you almost killed us all!" Jim snapped, "This is a Dark Data Stronghold. Those people all look exactly like the creeps we fought. Use your head!"

Ogong scowled, then looked at the people flying overhead. It was true. They all had those strange burning red eyes. Ogong leaned on a nearby piece of scrap metal, thinking about what to do. That was when the idea hit him.

The monkey grinned. "Okay."

He head butted the scrap metal, shattering it into smaller shreds. Somerled and Jim looked at him, bewildered.

"I didn't mean it like that," Jim muttered.

"Their armor," Ogong chirped, "It's crappy and wrecked and burnt. Just like this metal that I shredded. Hold up."

Ogong stuck out his hand. "Attach! CHAK!"

A green and yellow glue stick popped into reality. The scraps of rusty steel began floating towards the trio, the glue stick applying itself to the insides of the scraps. Soon enough, they were wrapped in fairly useless armor.

"I don't think it'll actually protect us," Ogong admitted, "but hey, as long as our eyes are glowing red and we rub ourselves in soot or something, we should be able to fool them."

Jim nodded approvingly. "Now, THAT's what I meant by using your head. Good work, kid."

Ogong puffed out his chest. "No problem, Jim. I am extremely smart, to be hum-"

Suddenly, the ground opened underneath his feet. Ogong emitted a small, pitiful yelp as he fell.

Fortunately, Somerled lashed out with his whip, latching onto Yeo-Ee-Pil. With Jim's help, the monster pulled Ogong out of the sandy death trap.

"Th-thanks," the monkey stammered, brushing sand from his clothes. "As I was saying, we need a way to make our eyes look red. Any thoughts?"

[Summer]

“Red eyes, huh...” Jim repeated in a mumble, dropping his head as he retreated into thought alongside Sun.

“The glowing is gonna be the hard part, I think,” the monkey boy responded, trailing off into an uncertain laugh.

Somerled, however, simply smiled brightly. “I’ve got just the thing for this!” He lifted his arm up, a giddy tone to his voice. “Bright, red, and glowing, we’ve got the perfect thing in nature just for this!” Power welled up within him, a faint scent of ozone beginning to suffuse the air. “Red Sprites! Skipping the specifics, they’re an upper atmospheric phenomenon caused by lightning.” Small, red orbs materialized just above the fingertips of his outstretched hand, glowing dimly with an ominous light. Sun leaned forward, eyes aglow, entranced by his makeshift magic trick, while Jim merely raised an eyebrow. “They usually only last a fraction of a second, but using my power, I should be able to maintain them long enough for us to do what we need to.”

“They probably won’t pass for eyes,” the armored man pointed out.

“If we let them get a good look, then no.” Somerled admitted, casting a quick glance towards the darklings milling about, and dropped his hand, causing the sprites to disperse in an instant. “All we need to do is hide the glow behind the armor and we should be set. I doubt they’re smart enough to figure out that it’s not our eyes that are glowing.”

“Well it’s not like we’ve got anything better,” Sun said, straightening back up.

“If it works, it works,” Jim spoke gruffly, “And if it doesn’t...”

“Then that’s a storm we’ll just have to weather,” Somerled continued nonchalantly, manifesting some sprites for their plan. “I’m sure we’ve all got a few tricks up our sleeves.” Lets just hope it doesn’t come to that.

[Nebula]

The disguised Liberators trudged onward across the dunes, drawing closer to Nebula's desert stronghold, and details began to emerge from behind the rippling veil of desert heat . The swirling, smoky haze was caused by a cyclonic storm-wall of windblown black sand, and as they approached, the darker shapes darting among the waves of wefts of rippling airborne dust began to look less like men and more like monsters, red-eyed, spider-like creatures with many-jointed limbs, swaddled in gold-embroidered rags and riding the winds on flying carpets as deeply purple-black as the ocean at night.

Closer to ground level, the picture wasn't much rosier. When the Primes' progress brought them to a point where the sun was eclipsed by flying sand and the wind began to tear at their fake armor, deeper within the storm the silhouette of the mysterious structure that they had glimpsed from a distance resolved itself into the shape of a massive, ruined temple. Six obsidian statues lined a cracked and pitted avenue of gold-flecked basalt tiles, ten meters high and standing three to a side. They depicted royally-attired men with the horns of rams and arms crossed over their chests. Their were curved swords in their hands, and their faces were as blank and featureless as the Nexus. Only two were completely intact - two more headless, and the remainder sundered and half-buried in the sand. Beyond these guardian idols lay a complex of four flat-topped five-story buildings constructed of the same black stone as the statues. They loomed above the sand, artificial mesas as broad and imminent against the dunes as a glacial wall grinding inevitably down upon virgin savannah, their walls carved with obscene hieroglyphs depicting bizzarre rituals, worn nearly smooth by time and sand, shining amidst the storm. 

Electrical cables and energy collectors, little humming boxes and sparking antennae wove among the ruins, draped over fallen stones and nestled atop the bases of broken statues. 

At the center of it all stood a single obelisk, thirty meters high. Its base was connected to conduits as big around as a man, and the ancient stone spire crackled with energy so black that it lacked any sense of depth or scale, as though a jagged whole had opened in the world, and decided to masquerade as leaping arcs of lightning. At irregular intervals, the obelisk would discharge a single bolt of sable fire into the sky, pulsing in time with the storm. 

With the addition of this new context, the seemingly random motion of the corrupted raiders began to take on a sinister sense of purpose. They were moving into and out of the sandstorm, seemingly unhindered by the wind and the dust, driving trucks and pushing crates mounted on hover-trollies. They manipulated free-standing consoles, fiddled with antennas, and pushed carts laden with dark-chips into and out of the temple's main entrance - a two-story ramp set into the face of the central building, opposite the crumbling promenade with its weathered, faceless guardians.

The liberators passed without comment through the outer layer of Nebula activity, suffering only a passing inspection from one of the carpet-riding arachnid-men as it swooped wide around the edge of the storm-wall before plunging back into the heart of the swirling darkness.

"My plan is working!" stage-whispered Sun Ogong, almost yelling to be heard over the rising gale. 

"So far..." Muttered Jim. 

Somerled said nothing, intent on maintaining the red-eyed glow that kept them hidden from their enemies. 

Then they crossed some invisible threshold, and they were truly within the storm, the driving sand almost like a solid wall, beating against them without mercy. With the sun obscured by swirling dust, the oppressive atmosphere of the ancient necropolis seemed to press down like a physical force, pulsing and vital with stern disapproval of the living - but that was hardly the most urgent problem they faced. 

Every corrupted raider, every carpet-riding man-spider, every red-eyed thrall of Nebula, had frozen in its tracks the moment they set foot on the temple grounds, and was now staring directly, silently, at the three disguised Primes. One of them, standing at a console, broke a glass a glass panel with his fist and pressed a red button.

Black energy arced from the central obelisk, earthing itself in the two intact statue-guardians. Stone rumbled, grinding and shifting into an unholy semblance of life ,and the ground shook as they stepped down from their pedestals, raising their swords to the angry skies in a mutual roar of faceless, enraged anguish.

Time for a challenge!

It was a good effort, but you ended up spotted. And now there's these two giant statues after you!

Said giant statues are extremely tough, and will hit with impressive force. They're fast for their size, but the sheer size also makes them somewhat lumbering and unwieldy. Capitalize on it!

You have to defeat or avoid the giant animated guardians, as well as evade the nebula forces in the area, to breach the temple. The portal to nebula space within this verse is located there.

You have five days and as many posts as necessary, up to 2500 words total to do your thing. Have at it!

[Summer]

“Ah...” An unintentional sigh escaped Somerled, completely drowned out by the blustering winds, as he turned his head up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the top of those animated stone statues. However, no matter how intensely he gazed into the sandy veil, whipped up by the wind storm, he could scarcely make out their heads.

“Now I’ve heard of art imitatin’ life before, but this is just ridiculous,” Jim quipped, a mellow tone to his voice despite how much he had to raise it to be heard over the wind.

“Uh guys,” a worried voice came from behind the monster, “This is looking pretty bad.”

“I’ll say,” Somerled responded, spinning on his heel to face the monkey boy, mouth open to continue his sentence. The words he’d been planning to say dropped right out of his mouth once he saw what Sun had been seeing. Out of the curtain of dust, scores of darklings stalked forward, seemingly unaffected raging sandstorm. Something sparked deep within the storm spirit, his heart beating faster as adrenaline began to course through him. A wide smile spread across his face, and his stance suddenly shifted, filled with confidence. “On the contrary, I think this is looking pretty good,” he said. “Actually, downright perfect.” With his final words, the air fell still, leaving only the sandy haze in its wake. All the darklings that had gotten used to standing in their wind suddenly lurched all over the place, their airy support stolen from them. “Alright, I’m going to need you two to cover for me for about half a minute!”

“Can do,” Raynor’s voice came from off to the side, taking things in stride as usual.

“You got a plan?” Sun asked, taking up a defensive stance on the other side of him, staff at the ready.

“Yup!” We’re storming the temple,” the storm spirit answered cheerfully, no longer needing to talk over the tempest, and quickly scanning over what little of his surroundings he could see. The fact that he couldn’t plan out a course yet put a bit of a damper on things, but it didn’t kill his smile, he’d just have to make do for now. What he really needed to do was find a way to get as many darklings as close as possible. “First goal! Avoid the statues until we can see!” he exclaimed, ears popping as a familiar, oppressive feeling began to manifest. A cold, metal gauntlet closed around his forearm as he finished his sentence, and he was ripped right of off his feet just in time for a giant, stone sword to slam into the ground where Raynor had been.

“Way ahead of you, buddy,” the soldier said, keeping his pace up as he released his grip on the spirit. Every thunderous step the rampaging statues took shook the ground beneath the trio’s feet.

“I don’t think we’re going to outrun them!” Sun shouted from just behind Somerled.

“We don’t have to!” the monster yelled back, “They’re bait!” Around them, the air darkened even more, becoming a pseudo-night from the obscuring dust, and from the unseeable, growing cloud cover above. “Change directions! Get behind them!”

“What?” The monkey boy exclaimed.

“Or at least near!” Somerled responded, sliding to a stop as he leaned against his momentum, before charging the statues at full speed.

“You ain’t makin’ this easy on us!” came Raynor’s voice from behind him. Somerled didn’t respond, eyes locked onto the stone behemoths bearing down. He was upon them in an instant, and with a quick sidestep to avoid getting kicked, he was past them before they could even begin to swing. Stone ground against stone as the giants attempted to lumber to a halt. The storm spirit had already turned around, and much to his delight, he saw that his allies had followed suit, and now they were between the statues and their temple.

Somerled cast a quick glance all around him, a swift scan to see if any of the darklings had took the bait. His grin brightened further with each charging and swooping he laid eyes on. Thinking that the three primes were busy trying to survive the statue’s assault, they were coming in for a “surprise” attack.

“And now it's time!” The storm spirit shouted, voice booming across the battlefield. He took a running leap towards his armored ally, vaulting up onto his metal shoulders.

“What are you-”

“It’s for your safety,” Somerled interrupted Raynor’s exclamation, straightening up with perfect balance. “Grab onto his leg, Sun!” The monkey boy gave up on questioning the monster, and quickly complied. “Now! You all think you’re so fuckin’ impressive with this sandstorm I’ll bet!” his voice carried across the still air, cutting through the sand. “But a little bit of sand and shitty wind is no match for-” he turned his head up, and lifted his hands skyward. Quickly, the temperature began to plummet. “The-” Carpets and spiders suddenly came into his view, tumbling out of control high above in the sky, and the thunderous footsteps started up again. “Downburst!” With a dramatic motion, Somerled wrenched his arms down. In an instant, howling winds from the sky slammed into the ground all around the trio, the tempest threatening to tear the monster off his perch. Bone and carapace alike crunched as they were dashed against the stoney ground, sand and rain crashed against the trio, and the storm spirit’s maniacal laughter pierced through the squall.

Winds flared out in the second stage of the storm, picking up the smashed corpses and tossing them away from the primes. Bodies, dead and alive, were whipped about, crashing into each other and the ground. Bones broke and bodies twisted as the darklings were turned into shrapnel, used against their own allies. In the face of the raging squall, even the mighty stone behemoths ground to a halt, leaning into the wind in an effort to stay standing.

And all at once, the storm died down again, leaving nothing but the rain and the mangled bodies of so many darklings, struggling to get up. Somerled hopped off of Raynor’s shoulders, shoes squelching as he landed. Digging his hand into his drenched hair, he smoothed it back and out of his eyes. He cast a quick glance all around them, his toothy smile unable to get any wider. Finally, with that pesky sandstorm out of the way, and the rain keeping any new sand from springing up, he could see everything.

“Alright!” he said after a moment, voice obviously giddy as he cracked open his whip. “Let’s storm that temple!”

1101 words
Used T1 Super - Microburst (1/2 SP)
Sandstorm is gone, the air is clear.

[Dr. McNinja]

Ogong could not lift his jaw from the ground. Somerled has cast some sort of storm spell, but it was one that literally wiped out most of the enemy forces and even knocked down two of the ginormous statues.

"How did you DO that?!"

Somerled kept cackling, sticking his tongue out to taste the rain. Jim shifted his rifle uncomfortably.

"Right, then. We need to do get in that-"

CRASH

Somerled stopped chuckling and looked up to see the statues still up and at it. Ogong groaned.

"Now what?"

"We take care of those assholes," Jim grumbled.

Ogong looked expectantly at Somerled, who shrugged.

"I'm not making another one, monkey boy."

"Figured you'd say that."

Ogong cracked his neck, twirling Yeo-Ee-Pil with one hand. He stretched his arms before sprinting off, shouting behind him, "Take the other one!"

Before his teammates could figure out what he meant, Ogong was already smacking at the heels of one of the statues. His staff was unusually quiet, just grunting at the pain of being smacked against stone. This usually meant this fight was going to be rougher than usual. Not like Ogong couldn't tell. This statue was freaking huge. There was only one way to take it down, and that was by bringing it low. For some reason, every artificial humanoid thing Ogong ever saw had a weak spot somewhere near the head. Hopefully these statues were no different.

As Ogong scanned the statue in a panic for a weak spot, he noticed that the entire surface of the statue was covered in deeply engraved heiroglyphics and decorative ridges. It was like it was meant to be climbed. And, fortunately, the world's best climbing animal was in the Liberators' company.

The statue seemed entirely unbothered by Ogong's efforts. It reached down surprisingly quickly - Ogong barely cartwheeled backwards to dodge a left-handed scooping assault. The monkey then jumped upwards as high as he could, just barely reaching the giant's ascending hand. Using his staff, he hooked himself onto one of the ridges and hoisted himself upwards into the palm, rolling as he landed. The statue emitted the noise of stone grinding stone, as if it was growling. Surprisingly quickly, the fingers closed in on the monkey as the statue tried to clench him. Ogong had expected this, but did not anticipate the speed of the statue. He meant to jump out of the way, but it appeared to be a lost cause. Instead, he raised his staff skyward and set one end in the palm, positioning himself to be under the middle finger. The finger, instead of squashing the monkey into simian jelly, pricked itself on the relatively toothpick-sized weapon. The statue growled again, shaking his hand in slight pain. The monkey barely held on to the index finger, screaming the entire time and constantly feeling his fingers slip from the wet stone.

When the giant stopped, the monkey let out a sigh of relief before continuing to climb. He was now jumping from handle to handle, reaching the middle of the statue's forearm in a matter of seconds. The statue, realizing what was happening, reached with his right hand to slap the monkey into jelly. Ogong wanted to jump out of the way again, but the next ridge was just barely too high for him to reach. So he once more protruded his staff perpendicularly to the arm, essentially stinging the giant once more.

The statue roared in frustration. If it felt pain, it wasn't feeling any - but clearly it felt anger. It must have felt similar to a hostile horsefly that just didn't leave you alone. And this time, Yeo-Ee-Pil was embedded into the forearm, muffling the staff's grunts. Ogong used it as a monkey bar, swinging his body back and forth to build momentum. When he jumped up, the statue had once more slapped the staff, with the monkey safely out of the way this time.

"Yeo-Ee-Pil!" Ogong cried out. The staff jolted out of the stonework and flung into Ogong's extended hand.

"Please tell me we're there now," the staff whined.

"That's my line," Ogong snapped.

Brow furrowed in concentration, Ogong continued to latch onto various handholds. It was rough climbing, especially in the upper arm, where the masons had inconsiderately not carved any writing whatsoever. Ogong clenched the edge of the statue's elbow pad, eyes squinting to keep out the rain. It was at this moment the statue decided to shake its body furiously. Ogong whimpered as he realized what was happening. He smashed Yeo-Ee-Pil into the crack between the arm and the elbow and held on for dear life.

Ogong couldn't even see what was happening back on the ground, but he could hear Jim's weapon cracking rapidly. He tried to peek at the other statue, wondering how his teammates were faring. He didn't have much time to assess their situation, as he heard the other shoulder start grinding again. Knowing the statue was once more reaching to slap Ogong away, Ogong sputtered the rainwater from his mouth and looked for a way up. He hopped, narrowly dodging the right hand.

The monkey tried to think of ways to get the statue to lift its hands to its head. If a tiny little monkey-thing was climbing him, what would he do? Slap it away, keep it from his clothes... Unfortunately, all of his experiences with tiny things climbing his body ended with the tiny things flying away or being squashed. Ogong especially hated those insect pests when they were on his neck. It was so difficult to slap something on the-

"That's it!" Ogong laughed, "Yeo-Ee-Pil, get ready to cast!"

"Which one?" the staff replied.

"Hwa!"

The monkey jumped up once again, dodging the gigantic stone hand once more. At this point, the statue was not even drawing the hand back, focusing solely on slapping Ogong. The monkey realized this could also be used to his advantage.

"Taewuhra! HWA!"

A fireball appeared in Ogong's palm, with the help of Yeo-Ee-Pil's arcane energy. He spun mid-air, chucking the fireball at the statue's neck. Ogong landed on the back of the statue's right hand, hoping it landed and realizing that if the hand was to move away he'd have to start climbing all over again. Fortunately, the fireball landed, singing the base of the statue's neck and blackening it. The statue must have felt a tiny sting. It lifted itsright hand directly to where the fireball landed, growling in response. The statue had unwittingly lifted Ogong to its head. But Ogong was not ready for the event. When the statue's hand stopped moving, Ogong launched upwards, screaming and flailing.

At the top of the jump, Ogong regained composure and spun the staff.

"Nahwara! SOO!"

The staff glowed and the Chinese character for "hand" appeared in glowing brushstrokes above Ogong's head. The character pulsed light and a giant arcane circle appeared behind the monkey, following him as he fell. An enormous grey hand shot upwards. It must have been quite the sight to see a giant hand appear out of nowhere that high up. The statue was bewildered, for sure. The fingers stretched outwards and upwards just as Ogong's did. Ogong twisted his body, moving closer to the statue's face.

"High five!" Ogong chirped.

Before the statue could react, Ogong thrusted forward with his arm, his hand clenching something invisible. The grey hand followed suit, grabbing onto the statue's blank face. The statue roared, this time in terror. Ogong then snapped his wrist forward. When the grey hand followed suit, it pushed the statue's head backwards and downwards, exposing the statue's neck. Furthermore, it pushed the statue backwards, as Ogong had just pushed the statue's face very hard.

The grey hand faded, its purpose complete. The statue was now beginning to fall backwards. Ogong, still falling, spun again and narrowed his body to fall faster. Nearing the statue's exposed neck, he swung Yeo-Ee-Pil as hard as he could at the stone column. The impact left cracks in the neck, stifling the next roar as the statue collapsed backwards.

The statue landed in a cloud of dust, which quickly dissipated, heavy with water. Ogong lifted himself from the shattered stone, lifting his hands high into the air.

"WHOOOOOOO!" the monkey cheered.

The other statue, noticing his fallen comrade, roared loudly in response and started reaching for Ogong.

"Oh come on."

1460 words.
Used Signature Move - Hand, "Soo".
One statue down!