Post by Deadborder on May 2, 2006 21:23:03 GMT -5
"In the old times, there was a race of beings that dwelled in the sky. These beings were so powerful, that they were considered to be men made gods. They were known as the Sky Gods."
The old Shaman peered into the flames in the center of his hut. "The Sky Gods were possessed of many marvels, and could do wondrous things. But their greatest creation was the Gildragon, a creature of immense power. Gildragon was created to protect the world and watch over it, ensuring that it would be forever safe from harm."
"But, in their arrogance, the Sky Gods made a terrible mistake. In creating Gildragon, they accidentally awoke his father, Gilvader, from his eternal slumber." He indicated to a pair of shapes painted on a leather hide, both of near identical winged creatures. One of them was white, blue and gold, the other black, red and purple. "Gilvader was a terrible creature of earth and fire, one that lived solely for destruction. When he awoke, Gilvader saw the new world around him and proceeded to lay waste to it as he had done to the old one before."
"Gilvader's rampage could not be stopped; no power on the planet could prevent him from burning it into ash. No power, that is, save for Gildragon. The Sky Gods sent Gildragon to fight his father and save the world from him. The two of them clashed in an epic battle that would determine the fate of the world."
"And what happened then?" The anthropologist asked, looking up from his notebook.
"Some say that Gildragon won, and sent Gilvader plummeting to the depths of the earth from which he had came. But, as a final defiant act, Gilvader threw himself into the world, and caused the Great Cataclysm that made this world of today." The shaman sighed. "Other say that Gilvader triumphed, and reigned down fire on the world, wiping it clean until we began anew."
"So what do you believe happened?" The Anthropologist spoke up, entranced.
"I believe that it'll cost you another twenty moneys for me to finish." The shaman finished with a wry grin.
*****
Genesisbunnies, Chapter 1
PILOT
*****
A shape flitted through the darkened woods, its form silent and elusive despite its considerable bulk. The machine simply seemed to melt into the shadows between the trees, passing like some form of ghost or spirit more then a gigantic metal animal.
Inside the cockpit of the graceful beast, the pilot watched the lands around her. Despite the deepness and the darkness that surrounded her, she knew this place intimately; knew every rock, every tree. This place was he true home, one that she had been forcibly taken from so many years ago.
It was a place she would return to soon, oh so soon...
*****
The process of restoring a Zoid to operational condition was a long and complicated one. Despite what some people would have you believe, it was not just simply a matter of force-feeding it some red glop and letting it go. There was a lot, lot more involved with it. The joints needed to be checked to ensure that none of them were crusted up or badly damaged; the weapons systems had to be similarly inspected to see if they would even function. The controls needed to be tested to see if the Zoid would actually respond to an owner, and, most importantly, if it would even run and all. And the remains of its last pilot often needed to be removed.
But the first step was to clean it.
Zoids that had spent millennia under the ocean or buried in the earth or wherever else they had been needed to be cleaned off so all the vital restoration work could begin. Dirt, sand, soil, leaf little, barnacles, mud, bird poop and whatever else had to be removed in order to access the machine to see if it would work, repair its systems, extract its dead former owner and then (and only then) stick red glop into it.
It was a thankless job. But somebody ended up doing it.
"I don't get it." Rex began as he scraped another mass of barnacles off thee side of the Zoid's head. "Why do we have to clear the big one off first?"
"Because the boss said we have to clear it off first." Joe, his long-suffering fellow Zoid cleaner replied. "And that's why."
"Yeah, but... Why did he get a Beeshooter up his arse about this one?" Rex continued, regardless. "I mean, why this one big Zoid that needs to be cleaned right here and right now?"
"Because he's the boss and that's what he wants." Joe sighed again. "Now get to it. I want you to start on the tail; the stuff looks extra thick down there."
"Whatever." Rex muttered as he scampered down to the Zoid's back, near the base of its tail. As he clambered down, he could see that this particular machine had a fair deal of stuff hanging off its back. He'd spotted something at the base of its neck that he figured was a cluster of guns, which were mounted above some sort of circular indentation. He could only begin to guess what that was for.
He didn't recongise the specific model of Zoid, but he knew its type; the big bipedal thunder lizards that were hell to clean off. He was never very fond of them. And even though he knew that he was getting paid for it... it didn't really help any. The fact that his boss was being a tool didn't help any.
Tall and lanky, with blue eyes long blond hair, he didn't look the part of someone who would be scraping off a Zoid. Piloting a Zoid, yes, but scraping it off, no. He always figured that he should be off having adventures and doing cool stuff, rather then hanging off the side of a Zoid and trying to de-gunk it. Still...
He spied a place on the back where the original red finish was showing through. Sighing, he walked over to it, using it as a start point for his scraper work. He began to work at the encrusted mess of gunk, slowly peeling it away to reveal some of what was below it. In this case, it was a large red panel with battered white writing on it. He'd seen lots of stuff on various Zoids he'd scraped, usually stuff about "outer wing hoist fittings" and "static discharge vents."
"Hey Joe!" He called out as he scraped more away. "What do you think EZ-021 means?"
"It means that its not going to be 'EZ' to clean unless you get to it!" He snapped. "Now keep working!"
"Right away." He finished and sighed as he went back to work. This sort of thing seemed to happen all the time; he'd make some interesting discovery and then end up being shouted at and going back to polishing the Zoid. What irritated him was that was all he ever did.
Rex liked Zoids. He liked Zoid technology and was fascinated by the way they worked. It wasn't just that they were absolute technological marvels that fascinated him, however. It was because they were the only remaining link to the Time Before that still existed in the world. While there were lots of ruins, yes, not much actual viable technology existed anymore. But yet the Zoids, their greatest achievement, had survived. The people who piloted them were fortunate enough to be able to wield the technology of the ancients.
That why he'd taken this job as a Zoid technician. He wanted to be a part of the process that was used to revive these machines and bring them back to life. And when somebody offered him a job, well, he leaped at it. Only he didn't realise that the job would be to scrape muck off Zoids and, well, not much else. The instant the scraping was done and the real work began, he was sent off to find something else to clean.
He muttered to himself and went back to scraping. Only a few zillion more hours, he figured, And we’ll have this guy cleaned. He slowly worked his way down the Zoid's tail, scraping off more muck to reveal the blood red paint underneath it. Still got no idea why they want this one done first, though. Couldn't it be the smaller Zoid that's the rush job?
*****
Shanna Giant Zrk strode confidently through the jungle with the other warriors of her trabe, travelling alongside one of their sacred Zoids as it headed towards the Place Of Battle. Like the other warriors of the trabe, she was dressed in hand-made leathers, crafted from whatever could be taken from the horrible beasts that dwelt in the jungle. Like many of her fellow warriors, she was tall and muscular. Unlike her fellows, however, she was a woman.
The only female warrior in the trabe, Shanna had been honoured with the position simply because she was so tall and rather intimidating. With her long russet hair and attractive face, she could have easily been a rather pleasant young lady, if she was maybe a foot shorter. Instead, clad in her trabal leathers, with blue war paint on her face and arms and carrying a massive two-handed sword, she was considered to be one of the trabe's toughest warriors. So much so that virtually everyone in the trabe was afraid of her. This was something that she didn’t understand. She was nice most of the time, and friendly to most everyone.
Shrugging to herself, Shanna resumed her march. Of all the warriors in the trabe, only two of them weren't walking. Morrigan Serpent, the trabe's designated champion, was piloting their Hebby Rhimos into battle, and would be representing them all. Hopefully, if all went well, he would be the only man to fight today. His job would be to meet the other trabe's champion in combat and defeat them. Then, if both trabes were in agreement, it would end there and they could all go back home.
If not, then everyone would fight.
To officiate the battle, Darshad Namer, the trabe's high priest, would be witnessing it. After the battle was over, he would judge it according to the ancient Lore to see that all went good and proper. As the high priest, he was entitled to travel to the battlefield in the Hebby Rhimos' high chair, the small secondary seat concealed within the Zoid's back. (Shanna had always suspected that the chair was meant to do more then just be a way to cart around priests and other people, but she still didn't know what.)
The procession reached the battlefield, an ancient and sacred place in the heart of the jungle. An enormous stone ovoid, it was an imposing ruin of the Old Times before the Great Cataclysm. According to the priests, Zoids used to do battle here millennia ago before the End Times came about. By having their ritual battles here, the Trabe were honouring their ancestors. The procession entered the arena, and then stopped, looking out at the empty field.
"Where are they?" Shanna began. "Are they not coming?"
"Maybe they are just late." Another warrior began. "They often are."
"Maybe their Shaman just ate the wrong herb and is having visions." A third laughed.
Shanna nodded. She could never understand the shamans that lead ancient enemies. Their belief in invisible spirits that dwelt in every object around them was rather silly to her mind, especially when they went on their rants about the earth being alive.
"I heard that the priest prayed all night to the Sky Gods for a good victory." A warrior spoke up.
Now super powerful beings that dwelt above the skies where nobody could see them? That was a sensible belief.
The Priest joined the gathering of warriors by the Zoid's feet. "Silence!" He called out, his ceremonial hood back to reveal his aged features and long beard. "Silence! This is a sacred place! This is the arena of Heroic Combat! Still your idle tongues and show respect, less the Sky Gods strike you down for your impudence!" As one, the Trabe's warriors bowed their heads and muttered an apology.
A loud clanking noise interrupted their reverence as a second Zoid entered the arena, a group of warriors around its base. Unlike their Hebby Rhimos, which sported rather simple trabal markings to signify its power, the other trabe's Bearfighter sported a lot more decoration. Much of its body was covered in jagged red patches of paint, meant to emphasise its strength. Animal skulls were arranged on top of its canopy and on its shoulders, while spears decorated other parts of its body. The warriors around it were similarly adorned; unlike their own trabe with their simple leathers, their opponents preferred to go bare cheated and wear animal skins on their heads and shoulders.
A single Member of the other trabe, a middle-aged man dressed in a long cloak and carrying a rams-head staff stepped forward to the center of the arena. Dashard Namer joined him, the pair of them facing off. "Morrigan Serpent of the Spiral Mountain Trabe!" Dashard called out. "Are you ready?"
"I am!" he shouted back form the Rhimos.
"Ugh Witwicky of the Clan of the Cave Bearfighter!" The shaman called out. "Are you ready?"
"Me am!" The Bearfighter's pilot called out.
"Morrigan Serpent versus Ugh Witwicky!" They both began, intoning the ceremonial chant of battle. "Both contestants confirmed! Arena confirmed! Contestants ready… fight!” The pair of them then sprinted out of the way as the two Zoids went into action.
The Bearfighter roared and reared up onto its hind legs, charging forwards. In reply, the Hebby Rhimos lowered its head and charged towards its opponent, its drill-like horn spinning. Shanna held her breath with anticipation at the inevitable clash; a battle such as this would be one to reMember. Both champions were amongst the strongest men in their trabes; both were masters of their Zoids who knew every inch of their capabilities. And while she had faith in Morrigan, she knew that it would not be easy for him to triumph.
She herself had learned how to pilot the Zoids, the sacred machines that were the guardians of the Trabe. However, she had never had the chance to use one in battle. She knew that someday her day would come where she would represent her people in Heroic Combat. Until then, she could but hope.
The Bearfighter lunged forwards to strike, but instead slipped over in the mud that coated the arena floor. As it had rained just the previous night, the ground was both slippery and trecherous. The Zoid stumbled, then fell flat on its back, its momentum causing it to skid forwards. Seeing the enemy Zoid spiral out of control, Morrigan tried to bring his own machine around to avoid the battle. Instead, the Rhimos skidded, then slipped over onto its side. The two Zoids came together with a titanic crash, the Rhimos rolling over and flopping down onto the Bearfighter's body.
There was a long silence, punctuated only by the cackle of a lone kookaburra.
"Um, want to call it a day?" Dashade Namer began.
"Yeah, right." The Shaman replied. "What do you reckon?"
"Well... the Rhimos is on top of the Bearfighter." He observed, pointing to the two Zoids. The Hebby Rhimos' feet were wiggling ineffectually in the air from where it lay.
"Fair enough."
Drashade stepped forwards. "The battle is over!" He announced. "The winner is Morrigan Serpent from the Spiral Mountain Trabe!"
"That was... interesting." Shanna spoke up. Nobody bothered to tell her to be quiet. They were all lost for words.
*****
It was a quiet and peaceful day in the village. The sun was shining down on the men and women toiling n the fields, harvesting the crops so that they would have plenty to eat in the long, cold winter to come. Men and women went around their daily business in the village proper, talking while trading or cooking or taking part in their normal, mundane lives. Small children ran in amongst them, laughing and happily playing in the sunshine.
It couldn't last.
A pair of long shadows fell over the village as a pair of Zoids approached. The two Command Wolf LCs towered over most everything else in the village, giving theism an air of invincibility that their pilots clearly reveled in. Their desert-tan paint was chipped and battered, and both machines showed considerable wear. Yet, at the same time, they were both clearly more powerful then anything in the village.
"All right you primitive screwheads, listen up!" The pilot of one of the Command Wolves began. "You've got two choices here. You can either hand us over all your food and any valuables you have, or we can burn this pathetic little mudhole to the ground."
"And he means it too." The other pilot added. "You don't want to mess with us. We will do it!"
An old man stepped forwards, looking up at the two Zoids. "Go away now!" he shouted, waving his walking stick at one of the Zoids. "We don't want your kind here! Go away or you will be sorry!"
"Hey, old man!" One of the pilots called out. "Shut up and go away! Nobody tells us what to do!"
"Yeah, you're giving us sass!" The second added.
"We oughta crush you for that!"
"Yeah! Crush him! That'll teach him to give you sass!"
"I mean it!" The old man called out. "Go away if you value your lives!"
"Ooh, now the old fart's threatening us!" The pilot called out. "I'm scared! I'm so very scared! What are you gonna do old man? You gonna get caught in my Zoid's foot? Gonna gum up the works? Or are you gonna beat my Zoid with your stick? Huh?"
"Yeah! Whatcha gonna do, pops?" The second continued.
"You'll be sorry!" The man said as he turned and walked off. "You'll wish you had left!"
"Not so tough, are you?" He began. "Yeah, old man, I'm talking to you! You're all talk, aren't ya? You act big, but you're just another scared little peasant!"
While the Wolf pilot had been so intent on calling out the man, he hadn't noticed another two heading into the large barn in the center of the town. This was a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life... which turned out to only be a few seconds anyway.
There was a thunderous roar as a pair of cannons discharged, followed by a loud explosion as a pair of shells slammed straight into the Command Wolf's cockpit, instantly killing the pilot and disabling the machine. The Command Wolf tottered, then keeled over, crashing to the ground on its side.
"What the?" The second pilot called out, then turned to the source of the attack. Standing in the middle of the town, just outside what should have been their main barn, was a dull green Cannonfort, the two cannons on its back turret smoking. On the side of the turret was the insignia of the Big Town Defenders, the most powerful military force in the region.
"Yes!" One of the Cannonfort's pilots called out. "Right between the eyes."
"Ayup." The other one slowly replied. "Nice shootin' there, Jeb."
"So what now sarge?"
"We blast the other one, Jeb." Sarge slowly repined. "Ayup, looks like that's the plan."
The two back cannons, as well as the twin horn cannons fired, the shots blasting into the sides of the Command Wolf, tearing apart the armour over its shoulder. The Zoid staggered back, then collapsed as its damaged leg snapped off the body. As soon as the Zoid had hit the ground, the canopy opened. The pilot stood up, his hands in the air.
"Don't shoot! I surrender, really! I'm sorry about that whole sass thing, really!"
"Looks like our job here's done, Jeb." Sarge drawled as he watched the angry old man walk towards the Wolf's pilot. He was a young man, clad in tattered leathers. The old man shouted something at him, then clipped him over the head with his walking stick. "Ayup...wait a minute."
"What is it, Sarge?"
"Looks like we got ourselves another Zoid coming." Sarge replied. "Ayup. Definitely another one. Big one too."
"Well then let's go to it, Sarge!" Jeb called out, the Cannonfort's turret traversing to face the newcomer. "As soon as I see him, I should blast him to pieces! yeah!"
"Sounds like a good idea to me, Jeb. Ayup." Sarge drawled, then checked his sensors again. "Hold up, you might wanna wait there a minute, Jeb. Not sure if this one's hostile or not."
The pair of them, as well as the people of the village who weren't poking the Wolf pilot with sticks, turned to face the newcomer. It was a Koenig Wolf, a larger relative of the two Zoids that were sprawled across the village's square. Unlike the other two Wolves however, this one looked to be in far better condition then the other two. It was a brilliant blue colour, its paint clean from any damage or wear save for the dirt around its feet. It also sported a silver trim around the cockpit that served to highlight its eyes and futures; one line passed across one eye in imitation of a scar. The Zoid's structure as well as its weapons were flat black, while the gyrocaps were a light orange-tan colour.
The Zoid's cockpit opened, the universal symbol of a pilot who wished to parlay or, at least, was an idiot. The pilot stood, her long, midnight-black hair flowing out behind her in contrast to her delicate, pale white features. Her form was slender, yet spoke of a hidden inner strength that went beyond just physical appearance. Her face was soft, with features that would belong on a goddess, save for the single scar that marred her milky-white skin and crossed one of her her brilliant golden eyes that shone with an inner intensity. The female pilot was dressed in a form-fitting crimson shirt as well as a thick black cloak that covered most of her form. However, a pair of Katanas were visible by her side.
"Greetings, people of Muckwaller." She began. "I am Mirar Kurokami, the famous freedom fighter. I have come here today to free you from your oppression!"
"Who in the heck is that, Sarge?" Jeb began.
"I have no idea." Sarge eventually replied.
"Well, we've already dealt with those young whippersnappers in the Wolves!" The old man snapped. "So you can just push off!" This elicited a few cheers from the gathered crowd, as well as a nod from the imperiled Command Wolf pilot.
"I speak not of these base marauders that plague your lands, but of the greater threat." Mirar continued. "I have come to free your village form the iron grip of Big Town and its tyrannical ruler, the evil king Freddie Cromarte."
"Well why would we want that?" The old man snapped. "We like Freddie." This elected another round of cheers from the crowd, and some more whimpering.
"But can't you see how he's enslaved you?" She began. "See how you toil endlessly in the field,s instead of being free to feast on natures bounty."
"Well, it means that we have enough food so that we don't all starve to death in the winter." Somebody else spoke up.
"And that we don't get mauled by wild dingoes while scavenging for fungus!" Another villager added.
"I was attacked by a feral turnip once!" A third added. "I like the fields, they're safe!"
But can't you see how his troops grind you under their iron heels?" She asked, indicating to the Cannonfort.
"That Zoid's saved us from attacks several times." A villager spoke up. "Until Freddie assigned it to protect us, we were constantly being raided by outlaws and marauders with Zoids and stuff!"
"And by mutant gerwalk bikers!" Another added.
"And feral turnips!"
"But don't you see how he is destroying your traditional lives?" She pleaded.
"Freddie Cromarte gave us an education!"
"He gave us plumbing!"
"He gave us security against the turnips!"
"Freddie Cromarte is the greatest man who ever lived!" Another villager called out.
"He's given us peace, security, agriculture, a reliable food supply, sanitation and education." The old man finished.
"And safety from turnips!"
"Why would we want to be free from him?"
"Because..." Mirar paused, as if she wasn't expecting this. "Because, um... He's... oppressing you? He's... destroying your traditional lifestyle?"
"Maybe you should think this over." The old man finished. "And come back later."
"Yeah." Mirar nodded. "Um, sure. Thanks." She sat down and closed the cockpit of her Zoid. The machine turned around and wandered off, its pilot clearly confused as to what was going on.
"Well that was strange." Somebody spoke up.
"Kids these days." The old man muttered. "They're all either running off in Zoids to conquer the world or to save it without stopping to think about the good things like plumbing and loo paper." He sighed.
*****
The old Shaman peered into the flames in the center of his hut. "The Sky Gods were possessed of many marvels, and could do wondrous things. But their greatest creation was the Gildragon, a creature of immense power. Gildragon was created to protect the world and watch over it, ensuring that it would be forever safe from harm."
"But, in their arrogance, the Sky Gods made a terrible mistake. In creating Gildragon, they accidentally awoke his father, Gilvader, from his eternal slumber." He indicated to a pair of shapes painted on a leather hide, both of near identical winged creatures. One of them was white, blue and gold, the other black, red and purple. "Gilvader was a terrible creature of earth and fire, one that lived solely for destruction. When he awoke, Gilvader saw the new world around him and proceeded to lay waste to it as he had done to the old one before."
"Gilvader's rampage could not be stopped; no power on the planet could prevent him from burning it into ash. No power, that is, save for Gildragon. The Sky Gods sent Gildragon to fight his father and save the world from him. The two of them clashed in an epic battle that would determine the fate of the world."
"And what happened then?" The anthropologist asked, looking up from his notebook.
"Some say that Gildragon won, and sent Gilvader plummeting to the depths of the earth from which he had came. But, as a final defiant act, Gilvader threw himself into the world, and caused the Great Cataclysm that made this world of today." The shaman sighed. "Other say that Gilvader triumphed, and reigned down fire on the world, wiping it clean until we began anew."
"So what do you believe happened?" The Anthropologist spoke up, entranced.
"I believe that it'll cost you another twenty moneys for me to finish." The shaman finished with a wry grin.
*****
Genesisbunnies, Chapter 1
PILOT
*****
A shape flitted through the darkened woods, its form silent and elusive despite its considerable bulk. The machine simply seemed to melt into the shadows between the trees, passing like some form of ghost or spirit more then a gigantic metal animal.
Inside the cockpit of the graceful beast, the pilot watched the lands around her. Despite the deepness and the darkness that surrounded her, she knew this place intimately; knew every rock, every tree. This place was he true home, one that she had been forcibly taken from so many years ago.
It was a place she would return to soon, oh so soon...
*****
The process of restoring a Zoid to operational condition was a long and complicated one. Despite what some people would have you believe, it was not just simply a matter of force-feeding it some red glop and letting it go. There was a lot, lot more involved with it. The joints needed to be checked to ensure that none of them were crusted up or badly damaged; the weapons systems had to be similarly inspected to see if they would even function. The controls needed to be tested to see if the Zoid would actually respond to an owner, and, most importantly, if it would even run and all. And the remains of its last pilot often needed to be removed.
But the first step was to clean it.
Zoids that had spent millennia under the ocean or buried in the earth or wherever else they had been needed to be cleaned off so all the vital restoration work could begin. Dirt, sand, soil, leaf little, barnacles, mud, bird poop and whatever else had to be removed in order to access the machine to see if it would work, repair its systems, extract its dead former owner and then (and only then) stick red glop into it.
It was a thankless job. But somebody ended up doing it.
"I don't get it." Rex began as he scraped another mass of barnacles off thee side of the Zoid's head. "Why do we have to clear the big one off first?"
"Because the boss said we have to clear it off first." Joe, his long-suffering fellow Zoid cleaner replied. "And that's why."
"Yeah, but... Why did he get a Beeshooter up his arse about this one?" Rex continued, regardless. "I mean, why this one big Zoid that needs to be cleaned right here and right now?"
"Because he's the boss and that's what he wants." Joe sighed again. "Now get to it. I want you to start on the tail; the stuff looks extra thick down there."
"Whatever." Rex muttered as he scampered down to the Zoid's back, near the base of its tail. As he clambered down, he could see that this particular machine had a fair deal of stuff hanging off its back. He'd spotted something at the base of its neck that he figured was a cluster of guns, which were mounted above some sort of circular indentation. He could only begin to guess what that was for.
He didn't recongise the specific model of Zoid, but he knew its type; the big bipedal thunder lizards that were hell to clean off. He was never very fond of them. And even though he knew that he was getting paid for it... it didn't really help any. The fact that his boss was being a tool didn't help any.
Tall and lanky, with blue eyes long blond hair, he didn't look the part of someone who would be scraping off a Zoid. Piloting a Zoid, yes, but scraping it off, no. He always figured that he should be off having adventures and doing cool stuff, rather then hanging off the side of a Zoid and trying to de-gunk it. Still...
He spied a place on the back where the original red finish was showing through. Sighing, he walked over to it, using it as a start point for his scraper work. He began to work at the encrusted mess of gunk, slowly peeling it away to reveal some of what was below it. In this case, it was a large red panel with battered white writing on it. He'd seen lots of stuff on various Zoids he'd scraped, usually stuff about "outer wing hoist fittings" and "static discharge vents."
"Hey Joe!" He called out as he scraped more away. "What do you think EZ-021 means?"
"It means that its not going to be 'EZ' to clean unless you get to it!" He snapped. "Now keep working!"
"Right away." He finished and sighed as he went back to work. This sort of thing seemed to happen all the time; he'd make some interesting discovery and then end up being shouted at and going back to polishing the Zoid. What irritated him was that was all he ever did.
Rex liked Zoids. He liked Zoid technology and was fascinated by the way they worked. It wasn't just that they were absolute technological marvels that fascinated him, however. It was because they were the only remaining link to the Time Before that still existed in the world. While there were lots of ruins, yes, not much actual viable technology existed anymore. But yet the Zoids, their greatest achievement, had survived. The people who piloted them were fortunate enough to be able to wield the technology of the ancients.
That why he'd taken this job as a Zoid technician. He wanted to be a part of the process that was used to revive these machines and bring them back to life. And when somebody offered him a job, well, he leaped at it. Only he didn't realise that the job would be to scrape muck off Zoids and, well, not much else. The instant the scraping was done and the real work began, he was sent off to find something else to clean.
He muttered to himself and went back to scraping. Only a few zillion more hours, he figured, And we’ll have this guy cleaned. He slowly worked his way down the Zoid's tail, scraping off more muck to reveal the blood red paint underneath it. Still got no idea why they want this one done first, though. Couldn't it be the smaller Zoid that's the rush job?
*****
Shanna Giant Zrk strode confidently through the jungle with the other warriors of her trabe, travelling alongside one of their sacred Zoids as it headed towards the Place Of Battle. Like the other warriors of the trabe, she was dressed in hand-made leathers, crafted from whatever could be taken from the horrible beasts that dwelt in the jungle. Like many of her fellow warriors, she was tall and muscular. Unlike her fellows, however, she was a woman.
The only female warrior in the trabe, Shanna had been honoured with the position simply because she was so tall and rather intimidating. With her long russet hair and attractive face, she could have easily been a rather pleasant young lady, if she was maybe a foot shorter. Instead, clad in her trabal leathers, with blue war paint on her face and arms and carrying a massive two-handed sword, she was considered to be one of the trabe's toughest warriors. So much so that virtually everyone in the trabe was afraid of her. This was something that she didn’t understand. She was nice most of the time, and friendly to most everyone.
Shrugging to herself, Shanna resumed her march. Of all the warriors in the trabe, only two of them weren't walking. Morrigan Serpent, the trabe's designated champion, was piloting their Hebby Rhimos into battle, and would be representing them all. Hopefully, if all went well, he would be the only man to fight today. His job would be to meet the other trabe's champion in combat and defeat them. Then, if both trabes were in agreement, it would end there and they could all go back home.
If not, then everyone would fight.
To officiate the battle, Darshad Namer, the trabe's high priest, would be witnessing it. After the battle was over, he would judge it according to the ancient Lore to see that all went good and proper. As the high priest, he was entitled to travel to the battlefield in the Hebby Rhimos' high chair, the small secondary seat concealed within the Zoid's back. (Shanna had always suspected that the chair was meant to do more then just be a way to cart around priests and other people, but she still didn't know what.)
The procession reached the battlefield, an ancient and sacred place in the heart of the jungle. An enormous stone ovoid, it was an imposing ruin of the Old Times before the Great Cataclysm. According to the priests, Zoids used to do battle here millennia ago before the End Times came about. By having their ritual battles here, the Trabe were honouring their ancestors. The procession entered the arena, and then stopped, looking out at the empty field.
"Where are they?" Shanna began. "Are they not coming?"
"Maybe they are just late." Another warrior began. "They often are."
"Maybe their Shaman just ate the wrong herb and is having visions." A third laughed.
Shanna nodded. She could never understand the shamans that lead ancient enemies. Their belief in invisible spirits that dwelt in every object around them was rather silly to her mind, especially when they went on their rants about the earth being alive.
"I heard that the priest prayed all night to the Sky Gods for a good victory." A warrior spoke up.
Now super powerful beings that dwelt above the skies where nobody could see them? That was a sensible belief.
The Priest joined the gathering of warriors by the Zoid's feet. "Silence!" He called out, his ceremonial hood back to reveal his aged features and long beard. "Silence! This is a sacred place! This is the arena of Heroic Combat! Still your idle tongues and show respect, less the Sky Gods strike you down for your impudence!" As one, the Trabe's warriors bowed their heads and muttered an apology.
A loud clanking noise interrupted their reverence as a second Zoid entered the arena, a group of warriors around its base. Unlike their Hebby Rhimos, which sported rather simple trabal markings to signify its power, the other trabe's Bearfighter sported a lot more decoration. Much of its body was covered in jagged red patches of paint, meant to emphasise its strength. Animal skulls were arranged on top of its canopy and on its shoulders, while spears decorated other parts of its body. The warriors around it were similarly adorned; unlike their own trabe with their simple leathers, their opponents preferred to go bare cheated and wear animal skins on their heads and shoulders.
A single Member of the other trabe, a middle-aged man dressed in a long cloak and carrying a rams-head staff stepped forward to the center of the arena. Dashard Namer joined him, the pair of them facing off. "Morrigan Serpent of the Spiral Mountain Trabe!" Dashard called out. "Are you ready?"
"I am!" he shouted back form the Rhimos.
"Ugh Witwicky of the Clan of the Cave Bearfighter!" The shaman called out. "Are you ready?"
"Me am!" The Bearfighter's pilot called out.
"Morrigan Serpent versus Ugh Witwicky!" They both began, intoning the ceremonial chant of battle. "Both contestants confirmed! Arena confirmed! Contestants ready… fight!” The pair of them then sprinted out of the way as the two Zoids went into action.
The Bearfighter roared and reared up onto its hind legs, charging forwards. In reply, the Hebby Rhimos lowered its head and charged towards its opponent, its drill-like horn spinning. Shanna held her breath with anticipation at the inevitable clash; a battle such as this would be one to reMember. Both champions were amongst the strongest men in their trabes; both were masters of their Zoids who knew every inch of their capabilities. And while she had faith in Morrigan, she knew that it would not be easy for him to triumph.
She herself had learned how to pilot the Zoids, the sacred machines that were the guardians of the Trabe. However, she had never had the chance to use one in battle. She knew that someday her day would come where she would represent her people in Heroic Combat. Until then, she could but hope.
The Bearfighter lunged forwards to strike, but instead slipped over in the mud that coated the arena floor. As it had rained just the previous night, the ground was both slippery and trecherous. The Zoid stumbled, then fell flat on its back, its momentum causing it to skid forwards. Seeing the enemy Zoid spiral out of control, Morrigan tried to bring his own machine around to avoid the battle. Instead, the Rhimos skidded, then slipped over onto its side. The two Zoids came together with a titanic crash, the Rhimos rolling over and flopping down onto the Bearfighter's body.
There was a long silence, punctuated only by the cackle of a lone kookaburra.
"Um, want to call it a day?" Dashade Namer began.
"Yeah, right." The Shaman replied. "What do you reckon?"
"Well... the Rhimos is on top of the Bearfighter." He observed, pointing to the two Zoids. The Hebby Rhimos' feet were wiggling ineffectually in the air from where it lay.
"Fair enough."
Drashade stepped forwards. "The battle is over!" He announced. "The winner is Morrigan Serpent from the Spiral Mountain Trabe!"
"That was... interesting." Shanna spoke up. Nobody bothered to tell her to be quiet. They were all lost for words.
*****
It was a quiet and peaceful day in the village. The sun was shining down on the men and women toiling n the fields, harvesting the crops so that they would have plenty to eat in the long, cold winter to come. Men and women went around their daily business in the village proper, talking while trading or cooking or taking part in their normal, mundane lives. Small children ran in amongst them, laughing and happily playing in the sunshine.
It couldn't last.
A pair of long shadows fell over the village as a pair of Zoids approached. The two Command Wolf LCs towered over most everything else in the village, giving theism an air of invincibility that their pilots clearly reveled in. Their desert-tan paint was chipped and battered, and both machines showed considerable wear. Yet, at the same time, they were both clearly more powerful then anything in the village.
"All right you primitive screwheads, listen up!" The pilot of one of the Command Wolves began. "You've got two choices here. You can either hand us over all your food and any valuables you have, or we can burn this pathetic little mudhole to the ground."
"And he means it too." The other pilot added. "You don't want to mess with us. We will do it!"
An old man stepped forwards, looking up at the two Zoids. "Go away now!" he shouted, waving his walking stick at one of the Zoids. "We don't want your kind here! Go away or you will be sorry!"
"Hey, old man!" One of the pilots called out. "Shut up and go away! Nobody tells us what to do!"
"Yeah, you're giving us sass!" The second added.
"We oughta crush you for that!"
"Yeah! Crush him! That'll teach him to give you sass!"
"I mean it!" The old man called out. "Go away if you value your lives!"
"Ooh, now the old fart's threatening us!" The pilot called out. "I'm scared! I'm so very scared! What are you gonna do old man? You gonna get caught in my Zoid's foot? Gonna gum up the works? Or are you gonna beat my Zoid with your stick? Huh?"
"Yeah! Whatcha gonna do, pops?" The second continued.
"You'll be sorry!" The man said as he turned and walked off. "You'll wish you had left!"
"Not so tough, are you?" He began. "Yeah, old man, I'm talking to you! You're all talk, aren't ya? You act big, but you're just another scared little peasant!"
While the Wolf pilot had been so intent on calling out the man, he hadn't noticed another two heading into the large barn in the center of the town. This was a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life... which turned out to only be a few seconds anyway.
There was a thunderous roar as a pair of cannons discharged, followed by a loud explosion as a pair of shells slammed straight into the Command Wolf's cockpit, instantly killing the pilot and disabling the machine. The Command Wolf tottered, then keeled over, crashing to the ground on its side.
"What the?" The second pilot called out, then turned to the source of the attack. Standing in the middle of the town, just outside what should have been their main barn, was a dull green Cannonfort, the two cannons on its back turret smoking. On the side of the turret was the insignia of the Big Town Defenders, the most powerful military force in the region.
"Yes!" One of the Cannonfort's pilots called out. "Right between the eyes."
"Ayup." The other one slowly replied. "Nice shootin' there, Jeb."
"So what now sarge?"
"We blast the other one, Jeb." Sarge slowly repined. "Ayup, looks like that's the plan."
The two back cannons, as well as the twin horn cannons fired, the shots blasting into the sides of the Command Wolf, tearing apart the armour over its shoulder. The Zoid staggered back, then collapsed as its damaged leg snapped off the body. As soon as the Zoid had hit the ground, the canopy opened. The pilot stood up, his hands in the air.
"Don't shoot! I surrender, really! I'm sorry about that whole sass thing, really!"
"Looks like our job here's done, Jeb." Sarge drawled as he watched the angry old man walk towards the Wolf's pilot. He was a young man, clad in tattered leathers. The old man shouted something at him, then clipped him over the head with his walking stick. "Ayup...wait a minute."
"What is it, Sarge?"
"Looks like we got ourselves another Zoid coming." Sarge replied. "Ayup. Definitely another one. Big one too."
"Well then let's go to it, Sarge!" Jeb called out, the Cannonfort's turret traversing to face the newcomer. "As soon as I see him, I should blast him to pieces! yeah!"
"Sounds like a good idea to me, Jeb. Ayup." Sarge drawled, then checked his sensors again. "Hold up, you might wanna wait there a minute, Jeb. Not sure if this one's hostile or not."
The pair of them, as well as the people of the village who weren't poking the Wolf pilot with sticks, turned to face the newcomer. It was a Koenig Wolf, a larger relative of the two Zoids that were sprawled across the village's square. Unlike the other two Wolves however, this one looked to be in far better condition then the other two. It was a brilliant blue colour, its paint clean from any damage or wear save for the dirt around its feet. It also sported a silver trim around the cockpit that served to highlight its eyes and futures; one line passed across one eye in imitation of a scar. The Zoid's structure as well as its weapons were flat black, while the gyrocaps were a light orange-tan colour.
The Zoid's cockpit opened, the universal symbol of a pilot who wished to parlay or, at least, was an idiot. The pilot stood, her long, midnight-black hair flowing out behind her in contrast to her delicate, pale white features. Her form was slender, yet spoke of a hidden inner strength that went beyond just physical appearance. Her face was soft, with features that would belong on a goddess, save for the single scar that marred her milky-white skin and crossed one of her her brilliant golden eyes that shone with an inner intensity. The female pilot was dressed in a form-fitting crimson shirt as well as a thick black cloak that covered most of her form. However, a pair of Katanas were visible by her side.
"Greetings, people of Muckwaller." She began. "I am Mirar Kurokami, the famous freedom fighter. I have come here today to free you from your oppression!"
"Who in the heck is that, Sarge?" Jeb began.
"I have no idea." Sarge eventually replied.
"Well, we've already dealt with those young whippersnappers in the Wolves!" The old man snapped. "So you can just push off!" This elicited a few cheers from the gathered crowd, as well as a nod from the imperiled Command Wolf pilot.
"I speak not of these base marauders that plague your lands, but of the greater threat." Mirar continued. "I have come to free your village form the iron grip of Big Town and its tyrannical ruler, the evil king Freddie Cromarte."
"Well why would we want that?" The old man snapped. "We like Freddie." This elected another round of cheers from the crowd, and some more whimpering.
"But can't you see how he's enslaved you?" She began. "See how you toil endlessly in the field,s instead of being free to feast on natures bounty."
"Well, it means that we have enough food so that we don't all starve to death in the winter." Somebody else spoke up.
"And that we don't get mauled by wild dingoes while scavenging for fungus!" Another villager added.
"I was attacked by a feral turnip once!" A third added. "I like the fields, they're safe!"
But can't you see how his troops grind you under their iron heels?" She asked, indicating to the Cannonfort.
"That Zoid's saved us from attacks several times." A villager spoke up. "Until Freddie assigned it to protect us, we were constantly being raided by outlaws and marauders with Zoids and stuff!"
"And by mutant gerwalk bikers!" Another added.
"And feral turnips!"
"But don't you see how he is destroying your traditional lives?" She pleaded.
"Freddie Cromarte gave us an education!"
"He gave us plumbing!"
"He gave us security against the turnips!"
"Freddie Cromarte is the greatest man who ever lived!" Another villager called out.
"He's given us peace, security, agriculture, a reliable food supply, sanitation and education." The old man finished.
"And safety from turnips!"
"Why would we want to be free from him?"
"Because..." Mirar paused, as if she wasn't expecting this. "Because, um... He's... oppressing you? He's... destroying your traditional lifestyle?"
"Maybe you should think this over." The old man finished. "And come back later."
"Yeah." Mirar nodded. "Um, sure. Thanks." She sat down and closed the cockpit of her Zoid. The machine turned around and wandered off, its pilot clearly confused as to what was going on.
"Well that was strange." Somebody spoke up.
"Kids these days." The old man muttered. "They're all either running off in Zoids to conquer the world or to save it without stopping to think about the good things like plumbing and loo paper." He sighed.
*****