POV : CELESTIAL WAGER
The Celestial Wager pulsed with its usual excitement, aliens of all shapes and sizes clustered around the betting tables. A wide-eyed newcomer, smooth purple skin gleaming under the soft casino lights, stood awkwardly next to Lurox, who was mid-laugh after another round of wagers.
"Hey," the newcomer asked, eyeing the holographic odds, "what does '3 to 1' even mean?"
Lurox turned, his iridescent wings fluttering gently, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, it’s simple! Let me break it down for ya." He motioned the alien closer. "So, 3 to 1 means if you bet 1 credit, you’ll win 3 credits if you’re right."
The newcomer’s tentacle scratched at their head, still confused.
"Think of it like this," Lurox explained again, patiently. "You put 1 credit down, right? And if you win, they give you back your 1 credit ‘‘plus‘‘ 3 more! But if you lose... well, you lose your credit."
The newcomer's eyes widened in realization, the gears turning. "So, if I win, I get ‘‘three‘‘ times what I bet?!"
"Exactly!" Lurox beamed, clearly enjoying this. "But those bigger odds mean it’s less likely to happen. It’s like a gamble within a gamble—higher risk, higher reward.”
“Ohhh," the newcomer nodded, their tentacles now jittering with excitement. "So, if I see something like '2 to 1,' it’s safer?"
Lurox clapped the alien on the back with one of his wings, "You got it! Easier to win, but less of a payout." He winked. "Now, you ready to place your first bet?"
With a gleam of newfound understanding, the newcomer turned to face the massive holographic board, tentacles hovering over the betting kiosk. This was their first step into the thrilling chaos of war betting on the Celestial Wager.
As the crowd around them roared with anticipation, the newcomer whispered, “I think I’ll go for 2 to 1… better to keep it safe.”
Another poor sucker was about to learn the lesson that there were never any safe bets.
Flickering lights displayed odds, and the translucent Zeltrax's three green eyes gleamed as they watched the upcoming war unfold across the screen.
"Place your bets! Place your bets!" Zeltrax's voice echoed through the halls, filled with anticipation. Gorvax stood nearby, arms crossed, his stone-like skin glistening under the holographic lights.
“Odds of winning?” a nearby alien asked, their tentacles twitching.
Zeltrax tapped the display, revealing the numbers:
‘‘Fort Bone Victory: 2 to 1‘‘
‘‘Belief Settlement Defeat: 5 to 1‘‘
The crowd murmured, some rushing to lock in their bets. Meanwhile, Lurox fluttered past, his wings shimmering as he laughed, “What’s the over-under on men killed?”
The odds shifted again:
‘‘Total Deaths Over 100: 3 to 1‘‘
‘‘Total Deaths Under 100: 6 to 1‘‘
“I'll take under!” shouted a Glytharni with too much confidence. Kroxar smirked from a dark corner, tentacles shifting as they placed their own wagers.
Virelia, elegantly floating between tables, smiled sweetly as she placed drinks on the table and added her two cents, “How long till the first shot is fired?”
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Zeltrax checked.
‘‘First Shot Within 5 Minutes: 4 to 1‘‘
‘‘First Shot Between 5-10 Minutes: 2 to 1‘‘
The crowd gasped at the bold wagers being placed. Zark and Bleeb, the casino’s unlucky duo, stumbled over themselves as they shouted bets on how many crossbow bolts would be fired before the battle ended.
‘‘Crossbow Bolts Fired: Over 50: 7 to 1‘‘
‘‘Under 50: 3 to 1‘‘
Bleeb grinned, “I bet we’ll see under!” The room erupted in laughter, knowing their streak of bad luck.
Finally, Kroxar, with a voice dripping with malice, leaned in to ask, “How long from the first attack to victory?”
Zeltrax grinned, savoring the tension.
‘‘Victory Within 1 Hour: 9 to 1‘‘
‘‘Victory After 1 Hour: 1 to 2‘‘
The betting intensified, every alien watching the screens with bated breath as they awaited the chaos to unfold.
POV : FORT BONE
Atlas stood in the War Room, his eyes scanning the bustling activity as the preparations for the march were underway. Refugees who had arrived and the adventure groups who had bought citizenship in Fort Bone had swelled their numbers to an impressive 400 men. ‘This is a lot more than I ever thought we’d have in the first month,‘ he mused, thinking back to his previous experience. Back then, the portals had only opened once a month, and things had been chaotic, but not nearly to this extent. The wasteland was different this time, more chaotic, but he had also prepared much better. ‘So far, things are working out.‘
He turned to Alexander and John, who were deep in discussion over the logistics of the upcoming march.
"Guys," Atlas said, his voice steady but urgent, "can you start preparing for the march? This will be our first time marching with this many people. I want the group prepared and the army ready to go by the afternoon—not the morning, but mid to late afternoon."
Alexander, ever enthusiastic, gave a nod, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yeehaw! I’ll get the warriors ready, Atlas. We’ll be marchin’ like a well-oiled machine."
John, always composed, added, “We’ll coordinate the refugees and adventure groups to make sure everyone’s in place. The timing will be critical if we want to catch the Faith Settlement before they overwhelm the Belief Settlement.”
Atlas nodded. “Exactly. It’s about a day and a half to two days, depending on our pace, to get there. Our goal is to stop them before they wipe out the settlement.”
He paused, then added with a softer tone, "I’m going to go spend some time with Portilla and Crushir before we leave. Let me know if anything urgent comes up."
With that, Atlas turned and headed out, his mind already shifting to the two baby trolls waiting for him.
‘‘‘
Alexander and John stood at the edge of Fort Bone, overseeing the preparations for the march. The 400 soldiers gathered in disciplined lines, consisting of both seasoned warriors and new recruits. Armor clanked as the final adjustments were made, and backpacks were being loaded with rations, weapons, and medical supplies. The army looked impressive with the bone armor clad newbies, mixed into the veterans which were wearing a mix of level one and two armor.
John glanced at the ranks, his brow furrowed with concern. “It’s our first march with this many men. We need to make sure everything goes smoothly. We’ve got to keep them moving without wearing them down.”
Alexander grinned, clearly enjoying the sight of their growing forces. “Ain’t nothin’ like a good ol’ march to break in the recruits. I’ll keep the experienced fighters at the front and back, just in case we run into any trouble on the road.”
John nodded in agreement. “Good idea. We’ll keep the newer ones in the center, where they can be protected. I’ll get the scouts out ahead to check for ambushes or hazards. We can’t afford any delays.”
Isabella walked up to join them, her eyes sharp as she assessed the troops. “Everything ready?”
Alexander gave her a thumbs up. “We’re good to go. Front and rear guard are set, and John’s got the scouts ready to move ahead. We’ll be ready to march by noon.”
Isabella crossed her arms, looking over the assembled troops. “We’ve got a day and a half, maybe two, to get to the Belief Settlement. Keep the pace steady, but not too fast. We can’t have anyone collapsing before we even get there.”
John nodded. “We’ll aim for a late afternoon arrival. If we’re smart about it, we can make good time without exhausting the troops. The biggest challenge will be keeping morale up, especially for the new recruits.”
Alexander, always optimistic, added, “Once we get marchin’, they’ll fall in line. Ain’t nothin’ like marchin’ with 400 strong behind ya.”
Isabella gave a hesitant, small smile. “Just make sure we’re prepared for anything. We don’t know what we’ll face when we get there, but we’ll deal with it when we do.”
Barbara added, “The MASH unit is packed and ready. If we need to make quick stops for any injuries or issues, we can handle it.”
“Good,” Isabella said. “Let’s make sure this march goes smoothly. We’ve got a battle waiting for us.”
With that, the trio turned back to the gathering army, ready to lead them into the fray. The plan was set: the warriors would march in disciplined formation, with scouts ahead and seasoned fighters ready to react to any threat. All that was left was the road ahead and the enemy waiting at the end of it.