Of the few HIves that have formed, none were as devastating as the Aerus Range Hive. It is theorized that to took a whole year for it to be discovered, but by then it was too late; hundreds of thousands of Clockworks had been created and just as many soldiers and hunters were needed to fight the Hive. It all culminated in the most brutal war in the history of the Vast Dust, known as the Forgotten War, as the people of the Vast Dust have succeeded in forgetting the effects of the war over the past thousand years.
-Excerpt from ‘The Clockwork Foe’, written by Ul’gard the Orc-kin
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“That is everything we received from the Grand Chiefs… Aekan has fallen, and only a dozen escaped alive. If that was not bad enough, apparently someone has been given a quest by the Creators, proving it to need Their attention,” Eaner explained to the group while pacing at the head of the table. Helga sat with a stoic face, a far cry from her normal grin. Soren was obviously mourning. Alex sat with a saddened look on his face. The other few technical engineers and workers were either grim or griefstruck.
A muffled sob was heard and they all turned to Helga. Her head was in her hands and she quietly sobbed, tears flowing between her fingers. Alex, the one sitting next to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and rubbed her back, leading her out of the room. With a sigh, Soren turned to the captain, “Captain. What are we going to do?” he asked tersely.
A man nodded with Soren, “We all know what we want to do, Captain, but it’s all up to you.”
“Agreed,” the rest of the motley group of skiff workers echoed.
Eaner stood silent for a long while. He could not make such a decision easily, “I have… to think on it. Soren, stay here. The rest of you are dismissed,” he said to them. After a brief shared look, they all left the meeting room.
Soren gave Eaner a soft look, “Captain, I know what you’re thinking, but if you don’t do this, we’re all gonna walk,” he said, “I get that you don’t want to die and all, but we have to do this.”
Eaner shook his head, a pained look on his face, “You do not have to, Soren… None of you have to do this!” Eaner yelled, his normal mask of stoic intellect shattered, “What you are all doing here is suicide! Think, Soren, we can do so much more if we simply did our jobs, delivering supplies! Why are you all so insistent on doing this!?”
Soren stood in front of the captain, his diminutive stature a stark contrast with the much taller human, “You wouldn’t understand!” he shouted, “We lost everything! EVERYTHING! Our families, our homes, our friends, our communities, our lives! And you’re sitting here, saying that we don’t need to do this! I may respect you, Captain, but you don’t know how we do it in the Vast. We take back what is ours and make them pay in blood or scrap, no matter who. If you don’t want part of this, fine, but if we aren’t fighting, then consider me out of here,” Soren said, slamming the door behind him.
Eaner released a breath he forgot he was holding and sighed. Shaking his head, he walked to the back of the room and parted a few books on his inbuilt bookshelf. Sitting there was a half-full bottle of scotch. He pulled it from his place and took a glass from the table in front of it, pouring a glass and taking a long drink. With a clack, he placed the glass onto his desk. “Creators… give me strength,” he mumbled as he sat at his desk at the back of the room, re-reading the page in front of him over and over again. The report was from Grand Chief Veligad, an old friend of his and the holder of the golden stripe.
While he kept some details from his subordinates, Veligad was not so merciful as he was. The story went that a friendly lich, as if the story was not mad enough, met with the Creators, who tasked her with the elimination of the Aekan Hive, and offered her services to the new Joint Aekan Liberation Force. She and her small crew of eleven death knights, a few dozen zombies, and three humans were accepted. It then went on to explain the situation in Aekan. A force of two Clockwork battleships, full of Clockwork soldiers, scouts, snipers, striders, headhunters, and so many other nasty surprises, invaded the capital and cut off the Aekan Pass before too many could escape. His group was the last ones out.
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He felt guilt slowly build up at the bottom of his throat, but he pushed it back with another drink of scotch. Such guilt was something that far too many suffered through and far too many had lost themselves to. Eaner sighed at the thought of his men and women, brave skiffers who had all but conquered one of the most bandit-ridden strips of the Vast Dust, falling victim to the sinister condition. He would be willing to bet that at least a few were feeling it, thinking that they should have stayed behind to save them or some other depressing thought.
He would have to try to comfort them. He was not from Aekan like most of his skiffers, but was an entrepreneur of Grika. After one too many assassination attempts and one too many kidnapings during his business’ rise, he sold everything and moved to Aekan to try to make it as a skiff caravan captain. Over the years, he had come to love his comrades in arms. They had become like a second family to him, only beaten out by his aging parents living in Mount Averus after the third kidnapping, and seeing them so caught up in grief and rage that they would throw themselves into the meat grinder that was a Hive extermination hurt him a lot.
If he were to go along with them, fight with them against the Hive, he wondered if he would ever come back alive. He loved them like family, but the idea of helping them hurt themselves was something he could hardly bear. Slamming back the last of the cup’s scotch, he shook his head and stood. He would talk to Helga.
While she would almost certainly be biased, he thought that she may be able to give him a bit of insight, something that could help him settle on a decision. Opening the door, he strode out into the hallway and through the building. He had still not named his merchant company, he realized. He had gotten lost in the trips, in the fact that a caravan’s success was almost entirely on his shoulders. It was a welcome change compared to the randomness of most normal businesses.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he stood in front of Helga’s bedroom, the door slightly ajar. Inside, he saw Alex rubbing Helga’s back as she continued to sob and cry. He mentally shook his head; no one should have to go through what the woman had. The fact that he was about to ask such a heartbroken woman about what they should do next did not escape his notice.
Opening the door, he looked around the room. The sandstone walls were bare, with only a single shelf to decorate. The shelf held numerous mementos from most of their expeditions into the Vast. Bullet shells, guns, knives, swords, metal slag, all of it could be found there. Apart from the shelf, nightstand, bed, and dresser, the room was clear of personal effects. Sitting on her other side, Eaner stared deep into Helga’s eyes, “Helga,” he said.
“Yeah?” she sniffled, “You need somethin’?”
He nodded, “What should we do?” he asked, “Everyone wants to go, but…”
“It’d be dangerous?” she finished. He nodded, “If we do go, then I’m in… No, I’m going, Capt’n. No matter what, I have to do it.” Her words rang with resolve and even Alex on her other side nodded with her.
“You too, Alex?” Eaner asked, to which Alex nodded, “But, what if you guys get hurt or killed? What if…” he trailed.
“You lose us?” Helga finished again, “It’s no secret you care for us, Capt’n. We’re like ‘nother family to you and you to us.”
Eaner nodded, “You are… And I see it. You’re all hurt bad, right now. I can’t imagine how many of you are thinking that you should have been the ones to die, or should have stayed behind to fight. It just makes me sad imagining it… But I don’t want to send you all to die!” he nearly shouted, “You all have lives beyond revenge against them and I hate the thought of sending you to die if you would have regretted it…”
Helga gave a sad laugh, wrapping an arm around Eaner, “We know that, Capt’n. We know how much you care. We know what you’re worryin’ ‘bout. But, you know what we want. You know everything you need to know,” she said, lying back into her bed, “I don’t wanna be rude, but please let me get some sleep. I’ll be back on my feet in a bit.” They nodded and left her room, closing the door behind them.
Eaner sighed as Alex gave him a pointed look, “I know, Alex. As much as I hate to say it, I cannot stop you. Because of that…” he said, taking a deep breath, “I am going with you all. Get the meeting back together, I’ll tell them myself.” Alex nodded, running off to gather the leaders of the caravaning company. With a final glance at Helga’s room, Eaner walked away, ‘How will our guests feel? I can only wonder…’