FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Rain Silves was dying.

She lay on the ground, coughing and gagging, blood burbling up past her muzzle, her hands clutching the wound to her gut. The sounds of battle were dim and dull around her. A blast erupted several feet from her, raising a plume of loam and rock, showering her battered form in dirt.

She had often envisioned the ways of her death.

In her sleep or surrounded by her kin and her closest comrades in her last moments.

Taken by an assassin as she slumbered, her throat slit, or perhaps her food poisoned.

In glorious battle, overwhelmed by her enemy but triumphant upon a mound of bodies of the dead of her foe.

Not lying in the dirt turned to mud by her own blood and the blood of her soldiers with a hole in her belly, her armour rent. Any of those fates would have been preferable to the end she had met; slain from a distance, like some animal under a hunter's bow.

She looked downwards, lifting her shaking hands from her injury; the wound was ghastly, the hole nearly as wide as her palm, the edges ragged flesh curled inwards and seared from the force and heat of the projectile that had pierced her completely. Blood pooled beneath her, whilst with every ragged breath she took, more of her red life essence spilled onto her chest and her stomach, matting her white fur. Her lips quivered in fear she did not believe she would ever feel, her breaths shallow and full of dread.

How did it come to this?

Her campaign had been going well. She had taken the villages on the outskirts of the Baquar Heartland, home of the reptilian Baquan people. Their crops burned, their people captured, their land claimed in the name of Rain's Sergal Clan. The resistance was pitiful, their 'soldiers' little more than sword wielding farmers in whatever armour they could make themselves.

But throughout her advance, the Baquans constantly spoke of the 'Guardians', a great force that dwelt in their lands, long before the reptilian people settled there. These 'Guardians' had granted them living land around their stronghold, content to simply remain as they were.

Rain believed they were a professional force of warriors, at least in comparison to the wretches that her army had marched over with ease. Whilst she doubted the near mythical level of power the Baquans so reverently stated these 'Guardians' to possess, she wasn't about to so readily disregard the claims.

On the contrary, it was what she had hoped for. That a worthy battle would be fought.

She was wrong.

They had marched in the early hours of dawn, fed and anxious to fight. All they needed to wait for was for their scouts to return.

They did not. None of them did.

Rain had thought something amiss then, but felt it necessary to march ahead, albeit more cautiously than normal.

And that was when all went so terribly wrong.

They had marshalled their forces so swiftly, so covertly, that upon Rain's Army marching against their line, they were not prepared for the defence.

And so, the battle was fought. No, not a battle, a slaughter.

But this time, it was her and her forces that fell like flies, crumbling against the thunder of the Guardians. They were swift, brutal, without mercy, and above all, without emotion. There was no glory in it for them, no honour in their minds.

They sought purely to win, and so they did, their capabilities beyond anything Rain had ever seen.

And now, as she felt her life ebbing away, she looked ahead, watching an armour plated Sergal parrying a blow from one of the Guardians with a spear, their forms blurred in her fading vision, Guardian a great, bulky being. The Sergal warrior thrust the spear tip at the Guardian's chest, but the soldier's plated torso glanced aside the spear with ease. It reared up its right arm, holding its cross-bow like weapon by the end in the other. A blade protruded with a sharp hiss from its forearm, long enough to do what was necessary.

It plunged the blade in the Sergal's chest, severing the warrior's spinal cord in an instant, finishing the doomed warrior altogether with a sharp twist. It withdrew its embedded blade, retracting it back into its arm.

The Sergal had not even hit the ground before the Guardian was already moving, searching for another kill, no satisfaction to be had in any triumph.

And then it swept its cold, dull glowing blue eyes, like blocky, horizontal slits found on a warrior's helm, over Rain. It shouldered its weapon, and strode forward, its dark shape looming over her, like a spirit of death come to claim her life...

One day earlier...

General Rain Silves curled her lips in satisfaction, watching as the village of Durnst burned in the distance, the torches of her soldiers visible amongst the leaping flames to her keen eyes, a great yellowy display upon the canvass of the dark morning sky. Her position atop of the bluff was quite advantageous.

"Fools should have submitted when I still had mercy to offer," she uttered, her forked tongue flicking across her lips along the tip of her snout.

She turned around, her metal and leather armour clinking together, coloured steel grey, her great broadsword sheathed by her side. Her joints were exposed along her limbs, her silky white fur fluffed up from the cold breeze, the black along the outer edges of her body and along her back ruffled from a sparring match earlier. Her sharp, angular helmet was adorned upon her head, the menacing, protruding point only heightening the intimidating visage her face presented, her baleful golden eyes shining over her long, sharklike snout, streaks of red curling away from the corners of her eyes across the sides of her head. She strode forward, stepping before two kneeling Baquans, their arms bound behind their back, clothed in tattered rags.

The pitiful creatures were reptilian in nature, and almost half the size of the average Sergal. Their skin was green, their somewhat smooth scales reminiscent of an alligator. Small horns poked out of the skull of the one on the right, a male. The one next to him was a female, her form somewhat more lithe, and lacked the horns typical to the males. She was also the wife of the one Rain drew her sword to hold the blade's tip to the neck of.

"I have little patience, vermin," she uttered. "You will tell me what I desire."

"I-I told you, I don't know!" he insisted, his voice quavering, full of fear. "I don't know where Lord Marn is!"

"You do not know?" she said, narrowing her eyes. She pressed her blade more firmly against his neck, causing the Baquan to gasp. "Before we took those robes from you, along with your home, you were the Master of Durnst. Your culture has your officials know all of the little secrets each other has, to better govern your people. A foolish idea, and one your kind shall pay the price for... but if you do not tell me, the price you pay will be far steeper."

The Baquan's golden eyes shined with terror, and he gritted his teeth.

"I don't know! Things change, he could be anywhere! News travels slowly in war! Please, I told you everything else I know!" he pleaded. Rain snarled.

"Pathetic," she cursed, and with a quick swing of her sword, she took the head off the Baquan, blood spurting from his glistening, severed neck. The wife of the dead Master screamed.

"No!"

Tears flowed down her face. Rain stepped forward and prodded the chest of the decapitated Baquan with the tip of her sword.

"Liars deserve no mercy," she stated bluntly. She felt spittle hit her face, the female Baquan having hissed and spat at Rain, impressive from where the widow was kneeling, the difference in height substantial.

"Vile monster!" the Baquan cursed. "We harboured you no ill, did nothing to provoke you, and you come here, take our land, burn our homes, kill our people!"

Rain smirked, somewhat in admiration for this woman's fire.

"You brought it upon yourself... you grew fat, and lazy, and complacent. Such is the cost of comfort. Your so called 'soldiers' can attest to that."

"You will burn... for your crimes, you will burn, Rain Silves!" the Baquan hollered. Rain pressed the bloody tip of her blade to the Baquan's chin.

"I have laid low your people, marched across your land, and taken the prizes of war that rightfully belong to the victors. Your 'warriors', town guards and militias made up of foolish farm boys and old men, were simply crushed under our might... and you think I shall burn?"

The Baquan's mouth was closed, her features slightly more fearful, but the ferocity in her eyes did not dim.

"The Guardians will destroy you," she said, her voice quieter, but assured.

At that, Rain laughed.

"Oh yes, these 'Guardians' I keep hearing about," she said with a smirk, before crouching down until her face was level with the Baquan's, her expression turning vicious.

"The snivelling cowards have yet to come and face me. Not once have I or any of my warriors met one of these 'Guardians' on the field of battle, and they hide in their holes while your people die! And yet, you continue to hold to hope that they will come, like out of some folk tale to deliver you! Well... I'm afraid to say, no one will be coming. You are forsaken, doomed to death, or if you are smart, slavery. If you have not the strength to fight for yourself, to rely on others, then you deserve to fall."

The Baquan's face was, impressively, unfazed.

"We received a message from a courier. The Guardians needed time to marshal their forces since they went dormant, and regret the lives lost. But you will be stopped. You will burn," she said.

"We shall see... you two!" Rain snapped, gesturing to two nearby Sergal warriors, clad in simple metal armour and wielding spears. They snapped their feet together in acknowledgement. "Take this one back to the pens. And take this filth," she said, regarding the headless town Master on the ground with a hand, "with her. Let him serve as an example."

"Yes, General!" they responded in unison, and as one roughly grabbed the still living Baquan, the other shouldered his spear over his back, slinging the body of the town Master over his shoulder, and picking up the disembodied head like a piece of fruit, and both marched away through rows upon rows of white tents, pikes with red pennants fluttering in the wind.

At that moment, another Sergal, clad in slightly more ornate armour, stepped up beside Rain.

"My General," he said.

"Ah, captain Qaz. It is fortunate you are here," she said.

"There was little doubt I would return. My party lost no men," he reported. Rain sneered.

"Of course. This campaign has been nothing but a pitiful, worthless defence from pathetic wretches that call themselves 'soldiers'." She scoffed in contempt. "Town guardsmen indeed."

"We will be ready to march by noon, now that we've secured a route for the supply trains," Qaz stated.

"No... we shall wait until dawn tomorrow. That should have the men well rested and fed, and give more time for the scouts to report back. If there are lines of defences out there, I would like to know exactly how to crush them," she said, pointedly balling her hand into a fist in emphasis. "Besides, knowing the level of fight these vermin put up, they'll probably be sluggish and sleepy at such an early hour in the morn."

"And what of these 'Guardians'?" Qaz inquired. "What if they are truly real?"

Rain turned to eye him knowingly, her tapered snout's lips smirking wickedly.

"I hope they_are_ real," she admitted. "I truly do. I doubt they have the 'godlike' powers these scaly wretches claim. With their pathetic ability, anything competent would seem almost divine. Makes me question why they don't view us like some demonic horde... though, I haven't really bothered to ask them. Their fear is real enough. But this campaign has been nothing but a disappointment; the Baquans put up barely any fight, and my men are getting bored. There has been no glory in this conquest. It would be nice to have a challenge."

"I share your feelings, but what if the challenge is substantial?" Qaz asked.

Rain laughed.

"I said a challenge. I didn't mean a desperate one," she joked. "This campaign will end with this land flying my banner, claimed for my clan and kin... so, go spread the word. Have the troops enjoy a good, hearty meal, and rest up. You are dismissed."

"Yes, my general," Qaz said, putting his fist to his chest. As he turned to leave, Rain called out.

"Oh, and Qaz?" she inquired. He turned around.

"Yes my General?"

"Bring me the child of Master and his wife," she instructed. She then turned around to once more watch the burning village of Durnst. "I could do with a light meal before the battle."

"As you wish," Qaz affirmed, once more turning around, and disappearing into the sea of tents.

Rain watched, mesmerised by the flames of the burning houses, and grinned, licking her lips.

"Tomorrow begins the end of this campaign... and the heartland of Baquar will be mine."

The following morning, before the battle...

Rain stood tall at the head of the ranks of her army, their pikes and swords and spears bristling above their armoured masses. Flanking the great General were her captains, Qaz absent, sent on an errand.

They were ready to march, to cross the great barren plain that separated the arid outskirts of Baquar, and the fertile heartland within. There hid Lord Marn, the coward who would try to hide like a frightened rabbit as the forest burned around him, not at all fighting for his people. Between them, in the middle of the plain, was a field of uneven terrain, ridgelines and hillocks and boulders, open yet full of hidden crannies. And within was a supposed line of defences, erected as a last ditch effort to keep Rain's forces out of the heart of Baquar. It would do them no good, with the displays of resistance she had already crushed.

But Rain was anxious, agitated. It was the eve of the battle, and yet, her scouts had failed to return. They had ample time to survey the defences of the enemy and report back safely. Rain was not one to march into the unknown, but... but perhaps the 'Guardians' were real, and if it was they who befell the scouts, then perhaps the battle would not be so easy.

But it would be glorious.

She could not delay any longer; her men were eager and anxious, ready to leap into the fray. She admired that, so long as they held ranks and remained disciplined... those that did not would face her terrible retribution.

At that moment, she heard pounding footsteps to her left, and she saw the armoured figure of Captain Qaz bounding across the ground towards her.

"Captain, you have returned. Any word on the scouts?" she asked, smiling. That quickly turned to a frown as she saw Qaz's grim expression. He shook his head.

"There has been no news, no word, no sight of hide or hair of them. I can only assume they've been killed," he said.

Rain snarled.

"Curses... alright... we cannot march back, so we will do this cautiously," she informed, then turning to face her captains.

"Each of you will take a division of the army, and march to different sections of the suspected defensive line. I want to push against them simultaneously, and form a curved line of our own, forcing them into a point. We should eventually meet up and reform as a whole. Qaz, you will remain with me," she instructed. Each of her present subordinates responded with a salute, their fists pounding to their chestplates, before dispersing and heading off to divide the army into the required sections.

As they did so, Rain found herself a boulder to stand on, looking over her army.

"There!" she cried, thrusting her sword in the direction over the range of hills at the far end of the plains. "Beyond those hills lies the heart of Baquar! The wretches cower in their homes, for they know we are coming! And come we shall! Will you not follow me, into glory and triumph?! Will you not taste in victory with me?!"

Her response was a resounding, positive roar, cheering erupting from the ranks of Sergal warriors.

Rain smiled. Her men had never faltered or failed her before. They were loyal and eager, and she could appreciate that. They would crush the defences in wait for them, and soon, they would be in the heartland of Baquar.

"Then come, my loyal comrades! For glory, and for clan and kin! Onwards!" she shouted, swinging her sword over her shoulder in a gesture to advance. There was a roar, and the division of the army began to march forward, whilst her captains took different sections of the army to different locations. They would be spread out, but she hoped to spread the strength of the defensive line thin, and surround them.

She strode forward, blade in hand, Qaz with a polearm beside her.

Within minutes, they were at the rock field, and found they saw nothing.

"Perhaps there is nothing here?" Qaz suggested, though his eyes were alert and scanning between the hillocks and boulders. "Maybe they fled?"

He didn't sound convinced.

Nor was Rain.

"No... this could be a trap. We will be cautious," she said. The morning light was dull, casting everything in grey hues, the sun yet to rise above the horizon.

Further and further Rain's section of the army marched into the field, the other sections doing the same further along her flanks.

Not a single arrow had been let fly, and no ranks of spears had tried to block their path.

It was possible whoever intended to fight them fled, but there were of course the so-called 'Guardians'... perhaps it was they who waited for them indeed.

If it was, they had concealed themselves well, and that worried Rain.

She raised her sword, ordering her section to halt.

"I do not like this... I see nothing, but I feel uneasy," Rain mentioned. Qaz stopped beside her.

"Perhaps we should send more scouts--"

He was cut off when his head suddenly exploded, a split second trail of blue piercing where his cranium had been, showering Rain and the ground with blood, brains and bone. Qaz's headless body crumpled to the ground. The trail of blue had, in that instant, pierced through several other sergal warriors in the ranks, killing them immediately save for the last two, the trail's downward angle having instead blowing a massive chunk out of their guts and shearing their leg off below the joint, respectively, before making a massive divot in the ground

And then all hell broke loose.

The atmosphere practically erupted in a cacophony of booming bangs and loud cracks, so rapid, so numerous, it was as a constant drone.

A blue explosion bloomed to life amidst the column of Sergal warriors, sending giblets and body parts flying in every direction, a severed, flaming hand flying inches past Rain's snout.

Out of instinct, the army charged forward, knowing they had to face their enemy. Rain growled, glancing at Qaz's headless corpse, before looking in the direction ahead, split second lines of blue and white criss-crossing the air. She thrust her sword forward, and cried "Charge!"

And so she bounded across the ground, the front rank of her section at her back.

Ahead, from a concealed trench, burst a row of soldiers... but they were not Baquans.

Wielding weapons in a hold much the same way as a crossbow, but nothing like such, the row of soldiers loosed a torrent of blue thunder and fire, the trails of the projectiles, so fast Rain could not see, tearing apart the front rank of Sergals, their armour little more to the vicious weapons than paper. One of her warriors, brought down in the barrage, knocked into Rain's back, shoving her to the ground, sparing her the fate of her men... and as she looked back, she gasped in horror.

They were dropping. Row upon row of her soldiers fell, their spears being thrown at the enemy's general direction, an effort to kill something before they themselves were cut down with as much effort as one threshes wheat... less in fact.

From boulders on either side of Rain's section, more of the grey, metal-clad soldiers appeared, laying down to minimise their profile, taking single, controlled shots, their accuracy terrifyingly unerring, each crack equalling a dead Sergal Warrior.

The ranks slowed now, and attempted to form a shield wall, but the enemy's weapons simply punched holes in them.

There was a sudden pause in the barrage, and she saw the enemy soldiers pull black, metal boxes from their armaments, inserting another. She growled and snarled, and rose to her feet, throwing off the body of the soldier that had knocked her to the ground. As she did, her army surged forward, and joined her at her back.

Because of the Sergal charge, the metal armoured soldiers clambered out of their trench, with swift speed and prowess. There was no scrambling, no clawing to get away. They simply turned and ran... and that told Rain they were not fleeing.

No... she thought with dawning horror.

She was leading her charging army into a trap.

Before she could cry out to halt the advance, blue explosions erupted along the front ranks of the charge. Screams echoed, bloodcurdling and bone-chilling.

She pushed herself forward, noting the mass of Sergals had stopped. She would have herself at their head, to lead them... but for the first time in her memory, she saw fear etched on the faces of her men, a fear of defeat.

She heard no shouts for glory, cries of triumph, only screams of the dying and the thunderous roar of the weapons of the enemy.

Her men parted before her, to give way. They had stopped, huddling behind rocks and boulders to avoid being cut down. The bodies of the dead were strewn across the bloody ground, in more states of dismemberment than any battle she'd ever been in... and not a single one of them was an enemy.

She looked ahead, seeing one of the metal clad soldiers firing its weapon into an exposed group of her Warriors, cutting them down with ease.

And it was then, with this closer look, she realised they weren't clad in metal... they were_made_ of metal; the beings were some sort of machine. And that thought led to a revelation, one of shock and dread.

They are the Guardians, she thought.

Their shape was vaguely reminiscent of Sergals themselves, with digitigrade legs, claw-tipped digits and elongated heads. However, their craniums were shorter, less pointed than a Sergal's, and whilst they seemed overall shorter than the average Sergal, their heads level with Rain's own shoulders, they were stockier, less lithe. They were angular, covered in flat plates of metal that seemed thicker or stronger than the armour she and her soldiers wore, arrows harmlessly bouncing off their steel hide. Their fingers were thicker than a Sergal's, the claws on each digit short, sharp and practical, less animalistic than a Sergal's. Their feet were also much bulkier, their toes shorter, the pads not quite as wide.

They lacked facial features, save for dim, blue eyes, glowing through blocky slits, cold and emotionless; it would've been hard to see them with how dull they were. They appeared to have metal pouches attached to their waists and their backs, where they drew supplies from, as well as small canisters; explosives, Rain quickly learned, watching a Guardian lob one behind a small, shallow boulder where Sergal Warriors were taking shelter. There was a blue explosion, and the Sergals previously there were blown to pieces.

The Guardians' weapons were designed similarly to how their wielders were constructed; sleek, angular, with dull, glowing blue lines running along the tips of the weapons, most about as long as a crossbow, but others having slightly different shapes, and different purposes.

At that moment, one of Rain's captains bounded up to her.

"We were pushed back!" she cried, her expression frantic and terrified, her armour bent and her sword broken. "Th-They're unstoppable! I-I've never seen anything like it! What are we to do?"

Rain growled and grasped the captain by the shoulder. She shook the subordinate, and was ready to tell her to 'get a grip', before the captain's neck was torn open. Her eyes bulged, and she dropped to her knees, grasping at her neck. She chocked and gurgled, before another blue trail from the side pierced her head, blowing blood and brains out but leaving it largely intact, unlike what happened to Qaz.

Rain looked at the captain's body, unsure of everything at that moment. Was this all a dream? A nightmare?

If it was, it was too real. She didn't know if it'd leave her mind intact.

A piece of rock was blasted from the boulder she was hiding behind, stinging her face with fragments.

It was no dream.

She whipped her head around, and saw Guardians clambering over rocks to their right, taking pot shots with their weapons.

"They're flanking us! To the right!" she screamed. Her troops turned, and she herself, taking a great risk, bounded across the open gap between rocks, others that tried to follow dying in the hail of death the Guardians laid down. Rain neared the flank, growling and hefting her great sword.

A Guardian suddenly popped out from behind a boulder, and did not have time to bring its weapon to bear, as swift as it was, before Rain smacked it away. She attempted to run it through, but its armoured body deflected the blow. She kicked at it with her powerful limbs, sending it stumbling backwards. She lined up her blade, and thrust, sending the tip straight through its seemingly unprotected neck, severing cords and rods. Sparks sizzled from the Guardian's neck. It twitched and spasmed, before crumpling to the ground.

"Aim for their necks!" she cried. But as much as her warriors tried, the Guardians knew their own weaknesses well, taking cover as much as possible, and protecting one another. Compared to the rest of their body, the neck was such a tiny spot to hit.

She leaped over towards another, slashing its neck and sending it toppling to the ground, but it was not dead. She went to finish it off, but another came to the wounded Guardian's aid. She parried a blow to her head with the butt of its weapon, and it stepped backwards.

It slung its weapon over its shoulder, and straightened its right arm; with a hiss, a two-foot long, telescopic blade slid forth, shiny, its edges serrated towards its base. Electricity suddenly crackled to life along its edges and faces. It lunged, swinging quickly, viciously, but above all, precisely. To her left, she saw a Sergal warrior attempt to fight it with a sword. The Guardian parried his slash with a forearm, and with mechanical efficiency, thrust its blade into his chest, piercing his armour and his heart. With a sickening sizzle, it withdrew its blade, before turning to her, raising its ranged weapon.

With a curse, she planted the small, secondary blade beneath the handle of her blade into the ground, and kicked off the gut of the Guardian, giving her distance.

She rolled behind a boulder, and watched as the Guardian she had unbalanced recover, and in a move that puzzled Rain, moved to drag its wounded comrade, with the help of the other Guardian that had turned to kill Rain, pulled it to safety.

Why machines would do such made no sense to her; like the ploughs of the farmers, they were without emotion or life.

Why should they care about one of their own?

_Because a broken tool can be repaired and reused ..._she realised, grimacing.

All around her, her army was falling, her warriors scattered and without direction.

They dropped in scores, cut down without mercy, or remorse, or glory.

They were being beaten back with such ease and brutal efficiency, doubt began to creep into even Rain's mind; hundreds were already dead, and they had the advantage.

They had laid a trap. She'd anticipated it, been careful in her advance.

Who could have anticipated this?

With a painful pang of sorrow, she turned to her frightened Sergals, and cried, "We must withdraw! Advance, backwards! Do not turn your back to the enemy, but keep something between you and them! If I see any of you run like cowards, I will gut you myself!"

And so began the bloody retreat. The Guardians advanced as Rain and her army fell back.

Explosions and trails of blue energy carved the world in savage manner, leaving craters and body parts all over. Rain stepped back, and felt a crunch beneath her foot, something wet against her fur. She closed her eyes, daring not to look down.

Footsteps pounded up alongside her, and the captain from one of the other sections of her army arrived.

"We outnumber them, but we kill one for every ten of our own we lose!" he blurted out, nocking an arrow and letting it fly.

"If we can get out of this rock field, we can flee, leave this accursed land behind!" Rain spat.

The edge of the field was close. There, they would be exposed, but they would not be slowed by the terrain. The thought of retreat sickened her, but she couldn't possibly send her men to die in the butcher shop that she had unwittingly led them into.

But as it looked as though retreat would be fully possible, a loud boom shook the land, and a group of Sergal warriors were blown limb from limb, a smoking crater where they stood.

Looking up, and with horror, Rain saw a large thing, like a giant, four legged mechanical spider, its limbs stocky and fat, climb up atop of a ridgeline nearby. Its body was long, and an angular cupula rotated atop of it, a large, narrow pipe pivoting up and down. It took aim, and with a gout of blue fire, something whizzed through the air, faster than sound, and another cluster of Rain's Warriors were destroyed.

Another one of the spider machines appeared, a rapid succession of cracks signalling the mowing down of a dozen Sergals.

At that moment, the morale of her soldiers broke. They turned and ran, dropping weapons and fleeing for their lives. The ones that were closest were picked off by Guardian infantry.

To Rain's right flank, she saw a group of Sergals, brave and stalwart, attempt to advance on one of the spider war machines... but suddenly, Rain heard a thunderous roar, like rushing wind mixed with a high pitch whine. And from low over the rock field came something like no other.

A flying machine.

Its metal body was long, its tail rigid and narrow, a pair of vertical fins attached to either side of a flat plane. Thick, triangular wings, static and tapered at their leading edges, protruding from its body, bright blue discs of fire buffeting the ground below with wind, the discs pivoting every which way as it manoeuvred. From under its nose swivelled a narrow, rectangular rod. The rod pointed at the group of circles, and with a dreadful buzz, loosed a torrent of projectiles, the blue trails they left the only sign of the impossibly fast objects.

The Sergals were utterly torn to shreds, body parts severed, torsos hewn in two and more.

Gouts of flame erupted from ports in the roots of the flying machines wings, and small, incredibly fast rods flew out, like a swarm of angry hornets, churning the ground in a series of quick explosions.

"By my clan, what is--" the captain began to shriek, but was silenced when the top of his skull was blown off.

Rain looked around frantically; the dead littered the ground, the dying crying and moaning out in a bone-chilling manner.

Guardian infantry were advancing on the retreating army, battered and broken.

Rain looked around, unable to comprehend what was around her, what was occurring there and then.

For years she had led her armies on campaigns of conquest, taking land and people in her name, for her clan. She was general, but more than that, she was ruler, the sovereign of the lands she conquered.

She had tasted the flesh of her enemies, devoured their young, and had her way with the defeated.

And every time, songs of glory were sung of her, and she was praised as the mightiest of warriors.

But this... there was no honour in this. The Guardians... killing is what they did. Ironically, it was in defence of an invasion... but they had no other motivation. They didn't care, they didn't feel.

Victory was all that mattered to them. Honour, glory, fame, prestige... none of that mattered to them. They were machines.

It was in that moment that Rain realised why; the practiced warfare in its purest, truest form.

They sought only to win, to succeed, to achieve victory. They would do whatever was necessary to do so, in the most efficient and effective manner, glory and honour be damned.

They made themselves effective at the art of killing, and designed their weapons to be maximally lethal.

Their war machines performed flexible roles, but above all, ensured that the battle would be in their favour, from start to finish.

She looked around, watching stragglers be killed, on by one.

A Sergal warrior attempted to grapple with a Guardian. The machine flipped him over onto his back, extended its blade, and stabbed him once through the heart, before moving on without a moment's pause.

Another warrior tried to go hand to hand with a one of the machine soldiers, but it responded by kicking him in the shin, hard. The Sergal screamed as his bone was broken, but he was silenced when the Guardian grasped both sides of the warrior's head with its hands, and twisted, snapping the Sergal's neck with a sickening crack.

Rain bared her teeth, and raised her weapon, ready to fend off the enemy whilst her men retreated.

She screamed, took a step forward, and then another, gradually getting up to a run.

She was stopped when a bolt from nowhere punched through her gut, shattering her armour and throwing her onto her back, her weapon flung from her grasp.

And thus, the great General Rain Silves was dying.

Her army defeated, her body broken, her armour rent, and her blood spilling out onto her chest. One of her Warriors saw, and tried to assist her... but his lower jaw was sheared off his head. With a cry, he clutched the area where his jaw had been, gurgling and choking.

An explosive canister landed in his lap. It exploded, ripping his body apart, sending his shredded internal organs, bones and muscles in every direction.

Her vision blurred, her strength abandoning her, she looked around weakly, at the dead and dying all around, the giblets and gore that had strewn the ground, the soil turned to grotesque mud by blood and guts, the smell of burning flesh rank in the air, along with the bitter taste of ozone.

She tasted iron in her mouth, her ruptured belly sending blood up her gullet with her ragged breaths.

She had envisioned her death many times, in many different ways, but all never quite had the same level of helplessness and fear she was feeling now.

She was dying. She could feel herself fading.

She thought of her mate, of her young, tears welling up in her eyes.

Was that Baquan's words true? Was this punishment for all she had done?

Rain let out a ragged sob, watching as the looming, dark and blurred figure of the Guardian soldier moved to her.

For a brief moment, their eyes met, Rain's golden orbs, full of fear and regret and grief, lost in the cold, emotionless eyes of the heartless killer above her.

It levelled its weapon at her head.

She let out a ragged breath.

It pulled a trigger.

There was a crack, and Rain's existence stopped.

And so ended the life of the Great General Rain Silves, the Guardian that had finished her already moving off to find another target to kill, its Gauss rifle reloaded, advancing on the retreating army. It would kill a further six Sergal Warriors before the cease and desist order was given, a small act of mercy for the survivors. Whether they knew Rain Silves had fallen, or even who she was, it did not matter.

The invaders were defeated, peace restored to a shattered land. So they returned to their subterranean strongholds and fortresses, their war machines and soldiers waiting until they were needed once more.

Why they decided to defend the Baquans remains a mystery. To the reptilian people, it didn't matter. To the Sergals of Rain Silves' clan, terror and grief gripped them, rocking their nation to the core.

They dreaded what her death would bring; there were many, from within her own clan and from others that would have sort to fill the void she left behind, before her kin could assume the mantle. That the people she had conquered would rise up and reclaim their lands. That they would fall to infighting, and thus to collapse and ruin.

Indeed, Rain's conquests in time ceded back to the people who she had defeated.

But the infighting never happened. The collapse and ruin of Sergal lands never came to fruition. For such were the terrifying and dreadful recounts of by the survivors of the battle that bloody day, fear of the Guardians became widespread.

Fear that bolstered the unity between the Sergal chiefs and leaders, drawn together by the belief they would soon be conquered by an army of unfeeling machines.

But the long years passed, and the Guardians did not come. Peace slowly crept across the land, peace not known in a very long time. Societies flourished, people stopped living in fear of the next conquest. Ironically, it was such a savage and brutal battle that left thousands dead that seeded the kernels for a long-lasting peace. In a most surprising act, the Baquans had, despite all the cruelty Rain had inflicted upon them, buried the Sergal dead, and returned Rain Silves' body to her clan. There was a funeral held by her family, her mate and offspring remembering her deeds, and as a loving partner and mother.

But they had come to know well the terrible things she had done, and to this day, rumours and tales persist that the night on which the burial ceremony was conducted, attendees, through the torchlight of the braziers, saw dull blue eyes, luminous in the darkness... watching... ensuring that no other would rise to claim the mantle of the Great and Terrible General Rain Silves.