“Mastodons are distributed across distinct classes, categorized primarily by their size. At the top, the Atlas class encompasses the largest Mastodons, with heights and lengths reaching over 1000 meters. At the other end of the spectrum are the Human class Mastodons, starting at 2.5 meters in height, capable of being piloted by a single person. These smaller Mastodons, often referred to as battle armors, are equipped with a range of weaponry and specialized equipment. They are always linked to a Synapt in a larger Mastodon, ensuring coordination and support within a fleet.”
From “Treatises on the Living Vessels: The Technomagical Legacy of the Empire" by Archmagister Quintus Valerian - Great Empire’s Library.
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In the Reaper's main boardroom, a large, vaulted chamber at the top of the ship’s main body, a raucous gathering of men and women had assembled. A rowdy crew of outlaws and misfits, each of them handpicked by Cassian and his officers along their path of plunder, now stood in heated debate. Rumors had spread swiftly through the ranks, whispering of a particularly perilous mission under consideration by their leaders. This was why they had been called together, and anticipation was thick in the air as they awaited word from their commanders.
The room buzzed with an electric tension, voices simmering to murmurs as Cassian strode onto a central stage, flanked by Lark, Mila, and Aristis. The captain pressed a button on a pillar in the center of the platform, causing it to levitate. Around the main boardroom, holographic projections of Cassian and his officers appeared, casting shadows and a spectral light that reflected across the faces of the assembled crew.
“Friends,” Cassian began, his voice carrying an authority that cut through the room’s murmurs. “You are gathered because the hour is upon us. Before us stands an opportunity, a shot at glory and riches beyond anything we’ve ever dreamed of.”
He gestured to a control, and a projection of the Imperial Palace appeared, a shimmering image that drew a few gasps from the crowd. “The palace vaults,” he continued, “are home to the Empire’s finest treasures. And one of those treasures…” he paused, letting the tension ripple through the room, “is ours for the taking. If we’re bold enough to seize it.”
A collective murmur spread through the room, the weight of his words settling in as eyes lit up with excitement and a touch of fear. Cassian stepped back, allowing Lark to step forward with a smirk that matched the gleam of enthusiasm in her eyes.
“You’ve got two hours to decide if you’re in,” she announced, her voice echoing through the hall. “Arrangements have already been made with Prefetto Caprini to take in the cowards who lack the courage for this.” She marked a pause.
“But for those of you who stay… you’ll be part of the legendary crew that stole the Empire's prized possessions, and brought down its prized general.” Her words sparked a wave of excitement, and a cheer rose from the gathered pirates, filling the main boardroom with a fierce, eager energy.
With a press of a button, the stage descended smoothly, landing back on the ground as the wave of criminals parted to let their commanders walk through. If the ambiance had been electric before, it was now a cacophony of voices, each one blending excitement with anxiety. Some faces gleamed with awe and greed, while others held a wary tension.
“A treasure from the Empire?” someone gasped, the enormity of it dawning on them.
“Has Cassian lost his mind? The Empire will never stop hunting us,” another muttered, their voice tinged with worry.
As they moved away from the crowd, Mila caught up with Cassian, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That was a great speech, Captain,” she remarked, her tone light, while Aristis walked beside them, his expression pensive.
“Not all of them will follow,” the old Sophar murmured, “but there’ll be enough.” His gaze drifted briefly over his shoulder, watching the rowdy gathering, as though already calculating who among them would rise to the challenge.
“Grim’s linked with the Reaper. All engines are primed and ready,” Lark said, her attention on the glowing runes of her runeplate, already organizing the logistics.
“Good. Departure in two hours,” Cassian ordered. “And arrange a bonus for those who follow us. It’ll boost morale.” With that, he turned and strode off toward his quarters, his focus already shifting to the journey ahead.
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The next two hours could be summed up in a single word: tension. Crew members filed out of the Reaper, escorted by Testudo’s workers to temporary quarters. Cassian’s arrangement with Caprini had come at a price—an additional 3 percent tax and a forced security contract to guarantee the station’s protection until those opting out of the mission could find work on another crew.
In the end, nearly a quarter of the crew chose to stay behind on Testudo. The rest, swayed by the potential bounty or inspired by the veterans’ unwavering loyalty to Cassian, prepared themselves for the daring mission ahead. Buster, the demolition specialist, strode down the Reaper’s dimly lit hallways with a glint of eagerness in his eyes, heading toward the meeting room where the strategy session was set to unfold.
As the Reaper undocked from Testudo Station, its massive gravity reactors engaged, pushing it out of PX-716's orbit. Once clear of the planet’s gravitational pull, the runes scattered across its wings pulsed with energy, and the colossal vessel accelerated, cutting a sharp path through the void.
Buster entered the meeting room with his usual swagger, taking a seat behind Cassian and the other commanders assembled around the central table. Cassian stood at the head, his piercing gaze sweeping over his officers, weighing each of their propositions.
“There’s a meteorite belt the Iron Pegasus will have to cross if they stay on their current course,” Mila pointed out, manipulating the holographic projections on the table to display a galactic map. The image zoomed in on the rugged asteroid field. “If their trajectory holds, they’re likely heading toward Nova-X908.” The display shifted to a view of the volcanic, barren planet at the farthest edge of the outskirts.
“This reinforces the theory,” Aristis mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Nova-X908 is a desolate world, its only strategic value lies in its uselessness. A fitting hiding place.”
“So, we position the Reaper before they enter the belt, and lure the Pegasus out with the Harpies?” Lark asked, leaning forward, her fingers drumming in thought.
“No,” Cassian cut in, his gaze sharp. “We take the Reaper into the belt itself. The Harpies will cut off any escape routes. We trap them in.” He locked eyes with Lark, who simply shrugged and leaned back, deferring to his lead.
“Buster,” Cassian continued, shifting his attention to the hulking demolition expert, “we’ll need a way to pierce the Pegasus’ hull.”
The bald giant’s eyes lit up, already calculating the explosive force required. Cassian turned to Aristis next. “And you’ll need to disable their shields. You’ll board a Harpy and coordinate with Buster.”
Aristis nodded, his expression grave as he considered the challenge. Cassian’s gaze then fell on Lark. “Lark, you’re with me. Once we breach, you’ll deploy the nerve-wrackers.”
Finally, he glanced over his officers’ shoulders at the Blades’ Brother “Thorne, Ash. you’ll be coming in with me. Expect resistance.”
Thorne, the larger of the two, offered a silent nod, his face hard as steel, while Ash’s mouth curved into a smile of anticipation. He cracked his knuckles, excitement gleaming in his eyes.
The Captain’s gaze shifted to Mila, who quickly responded to his unspoken command. Her fingers deftly manipulated the projection, tracing a route from their position to the meteorite belt.
“Encounter is likely to happen within a week, Sir,” she stated, her voice steady and focused.
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“Alright,” Cassian replied, his tone decisive. “Lark, Mila, relay the orders to our ruffians. Everyone else. Dismissed. Take the time you need for preparations.”
With that, he turned and strode out of the room, his calm demeanor masking the intensity of the plan he’d set in motion. Behind him, his crew dispersed, each already absorbed in the weight of the tasks ahead.
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It had been two and a half months since the Iron Pegasus departed from Nexus 73. The journey had been largely uneventful, with the monotony of deep space broken only by the occasional pirate skirmish. Each attack was swiftly repelled by the Mastodon’s powerful energy beams and the coordinated defense led by General Gladius. Thalric, Dray, Voss, and Holt - his skilled Harpy pilots - had become a formidable presence, diving into each encounter with precision and discipline.
The crew grew closer over time, and even the reserved, middle-aged General found himself warming to Sophar Vale. The technomancer had proven invaluable, repairing critical systems and even joining the Harpy pilots in battle with her own personal Harpy, a model equipped with technomantic modifications she’d added herself.
Now, as they approached a looming asteroid belt, Gladius’s expression darkened. He turned to Althea Crest, the navigator and tactical mind of the Pegasus.
“Are you sure there’s no other choice than to cross the belt?” he asked, his tone carrying a weight of concern.
“Absolutely certain, Sir,” Althea replied, meeting his eyes without hesitation. “With our current reserves, any detour would leave us stranded in deep space,” she added, underscoring the problem that had shadowed their journey: resupplying without drawing attention had proven nearly impossible since they’d left the Planet Capital.
Gladius sighed, running a hand over his brow. “Alright. I don’t like it, but we’ll go through. This is the perfect place for an ambush,” he said, a hint of foreboding in his voice. “I want everyone ready. Once we’re clear of the belt, we’ll look for a station to resupply.”
His words were met with a murmur of agreement as his crew braced for the dangerous passage ahead.
The Pegasus maneuvered through the asteroid belt with practiced grace. Strabo, the pilot, extended the Mastodon’s legs, using them to occasionally land on asteroids and navigate between the massive rocks.
“Something’s approaching from six o’clock, Sir,” Nox, their Synapt, reported, his eyes glowing blue from his connection with the ship. “More targets closing in at three and nine. Orders?”
“We go up,” Gladius replied, studying the projection displaying a group of jet-black Harpies moving toward them.
“Holt. Voss. Dray. Suit up and prepare to engage. Hold them off,” he commanded, and his subordinates moved instantly toward their Harpies.
The Harpies—2.5-meter-tall, human-sized Mastodons—resembled humanoids with eagle-like features and winged armor. The Imperial soldiers boarded their personal units, launching into space through the Pegasus’s airlocks. Once outside, they took defensive positions around the Pegasus, shielded by the ship’s protective barrier.
“Ready to engage, Sir,” came Voss’s steady voice through the comms. Holt positioned his Harpy on a distant asteroid, pulling a large rifle from his back and preparing to cover the Pegasus’s retreat.
The Pegasus drifted upward, shielded by the Harpies. “Incoming bomb from above, contact in 30 seconds,” Nox reported urgently. Gladius spun toward Thalric, his second-in-command. “Plan B. Secure the package and get ready to escape,” he ordered, his expression grim. “These tactics. They’re Imperial. This is no drill.” His voice carried a warning edge as the bomb struck the ship’s shield, shaking the Mastodon with a runic blast.
“Shields at 25 percent, Sir,” Vale reported, her eyes glowing as she assessed the damage. “Whatever bomb they used... it’s the real thing.”
“Thalric, move!” Gladius barked, and his trusted officer immediately sprang into action, striding swiftly out of the command room and toward the main hold.
Outside, the enemy Harpies had converged on the Pegasus, engaging the Imperial pilots in fierce combat. Voss and Dray, seasoned fighters, held their ground, wielding their runic halberds with deadly precision, while Holt picked off foes from a distance with his rifle. But the enemy was relentless, their numbers growing rapidly, and the Imperials were being pushed to their limits.
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Thalric swiftly accessed a concealed compartment in the left shoulder of the Pegasus, retrieving a small but heavily fortified vault from its hidden alcove. Moving with practiced urgency, he carried the vault to his personal Harpy, which he had strategically positioned near the stash in preparation for emergencies like this. With considerable effort, he secured the vault onto the back of the small Mastodon, fastening it tightly.
Climbing into the Harpy’s cockpit, Thalric linked with the battle armor. His status as a Synapt was a closely guarded secret, allowing him the unique ability to pilot the Harpy without it being linked to a main Mastodon.
“It has been an honor, Sir,” Thalric said gravely, transmitting a final message to Gladius before severing the connection. Without hesitation, he maneuvered his Harpy into the airlock, engaged the seals, and launched himself into the dark expanse of space.
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“We need to create distance,” Gladius commanded, addressing the young pilot and navigator. “Harpies, cover our escape,” he added, his voice steely as he issued the order over the comms, his heart hardened after his trusted friend’s earlier farewell.
“Request permission to engage, Sir. There are too many enemies,” Vale’s voice came through, grave with concern.
Gladius regarded her for a moment, then sighed. “Permission granted.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Vale sprang into action, rushing out of the command room to board her Harpy.
“Crest, Flint. Clear a path with the beams,” Gladius ordered. His companions quickly climbed into the runic cannon seats as weapons extended from the Pegasus’s back and sides, unleashing powerful beams that struck down several of the enemy Harpies.
The Pegasus moved swiftly through the asteroid field, using the meteorites as shields against the relentless onslaught. Landing on a large asteroid for cover, the Mastodon suddenly shook as it triggered a hidden runic mine, causing its shields to flicker and fail. An instant later, a powerful blast tore through its left rear leg.
Red lights flashed, alarms blaring throughout the command room as the crew struggled to stay upright amidst the chaos.
“Left rear leg blown out, Sir. Sealing the air leak,” Nox grumbled, his face glistening with sweat as he fought to stabilize the systems.
“Vale, what’s your status out there?” Gladius called over the comms, but received only static in response.
“Sir, intrusion detected. three hostiles in the main hold, heading this way,” Nox reported, his voice faint as he slumped in his seat, slipping into unconsciousness.
“Everyone, prepare to fight!” Gladius barked, gripping his trusted glaive. The door to the command room suddenly blew open, and the Imperials braced themselves, weapons ready, as their attackers surged forward.
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The pirate Harpies were falling fast, their forces already reduced to half as the deadly Imperial Harpies defended the Pegasus with brutal efficiency. Cassian’s attention was drawn to a Harpy carrying a secured vault, launching itself into space and darting from one asteroid to another, clearly attempting to escape the fray. Moments later, another Harpy, glowing with intense runic energy, was ejected from the Mastodon’s back, pursuing the fleeing unit.
“Aristis, did you catch that? The Order’s after that vault. Go after them,” Cassian ordered over the comms. A grunt of acknowledgment came back as Aristis’s rune-imbued Harpy peeled away from formation to join the pursuit.
“Target nearing the mine, Buster. Stand by to strike,” Cassian commanded, signaling to the two Harpies hidden with him behind a massive asteroid. Meanwhile, cannons from the Iron Pegasus opened fire, decimating the pirate forces. Behind them, the Imperial sharpshooter with the rifle met his end as Ash, one of the Blades Brothers, cut him down before quickly regrouping with Cassian and Thorne.
“Break off ! fight for your lives!” Cassian barked into the comms, and the pirate Harpies scrambled just as the Pegasus landed on the hidden mine. Its shield flickered out as Buster moved in, planting a bomb on the Mastodon’s rear left leg.
“Blast in five, Sir,” Buster’s voice crackled over the comms, and he drifted back just as the explosion tore through the leg, leaving a gaping hole.
“Move in!” Cassian ordered, seizing the opportunity. He, Lark and the Blades Brothers swiftly closed the distance, slipping into the Pegasus through the breach just as it began to seal itself. They waited for the airlock to close completely before stepping out of their Harpies.
“Lark, it’s your turn,” Cassian instructed, drawing his gun as he led the way toward the Mastodon’s command center, flanked by Thorne and Ash, their infamous twin blades gleaming in their hands.
Lark exited her Harpy, scanning her surroundings. Spotting an access panel embedded in the wall, she grinned. “Found ya ! On with the wracker !” she cheered musically, pulling her gun and blasting open the panel. With practiced precision, she attached a round device with a needle-like appendage, driving it into the Mastodon’s exposed nerve-like fibers. As she pressed a button, the device pulsed with runes, injecting a vivid green liquid. The fluid drained slowly, and as it emptied, the ship’s glowing runes dimmed and finally went dark.
With her task complete, Lark hurried to catch up with her captain.
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Cassian fired at the door, punching holes in it until it yielded, allowing them entry in the command room. As they stepped inside, a volley of blasts met them immediately.
Without hesitation, Ash and Thorne positioned themselves in front of their Captain, each wielding twin swords that glowed a fierce orange. Their blades deflected incoming shots with practiced precision, forcing their way into the room.
Cassian advanced steadily behind them, his gaze sharp, taking in the scene. He spotted a woman aiming a rune-activated device, that was shooting an array of blasts, manipulating it with rune embbed gloves. He avoided a shot that aimed for his head and fired. His shot struck her squarely in the chest, sending her flying back against the wall where she collapsed, lifeless, a hole in where her heart had been. The gunfire ceased. The pilot had been knocked unconscious by earlier explosions and Cret - still gripping her weapon - waited for the right moment to strike.
"Cassian !" Gladius roared as he recognized his former comrade and took in the devastation around him. The betrayal stocked his fury as he launched himself forward, wielding his glaive with ferocious thrusts that forced Ash and Thorne back, who struggled to parry the relentless strikes.
"Hello old friend. Been a while, Hasn't it ?" Cassian greeted him, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. He shot a few times, aiming for the arms and legs but the General parried and avoided them.
"It's over, Augustus. Yield." he ordered but was only met with a fierce growl.
"Traitor ! Rat ! You killed them !" Gladius spat, pressing forward in a blind fury, pushing the fight out of the command room and into the Pegasus's main board.
"Back off. Now !" Cassian commanded. Ash and Thorne leaped clear as the pirate captain tossed a small cog-like device onto the floor. It sparked with orange light, latching on Gladius's right leg and locking him in place. The General swung his glaive down to break it, nly to be forced to deflect another shot from Cassian's gun. Overwhelmed by Thorne's rapid follow-up strikes, his glaive slipped from his grip and clattered on the ground.
"Don't move. It's over" Cassian declared, the beaten general slumped to his knees, His face contorted with rage as tears of anger flowed down his face.
"This is the General you mentioned ?" Lark asked, having joined back earlier and given the immobilization device to Cassian. "Not much of a fight" she commented, looking down at Gladius with a smirk.
"Many died, Lark." Cassian growled, casting her a warning look. Then he turned to the Blades' Borthers. "Restrain him."
He re-entered the command room, where the navigator was already on her knees, he hands raised in surrender. "I surredner. Please, spare us." she pleaded, her voice shaking.
Cassian surveyed her, calculating. "Restrain them all. throw them in the Reaper's brig. They'll fetch a good price." he ordered and Ash and Thorne moved to secure the remaining crew.
"Lark. Signal Grim and the twins to bring the Reaper in closer." He instructed. Lark produced a round device from her satchel, activating it and issuing the command through the comms.