Black Star Air Base

[Pillow]

Pilocanci stood before the group of assebled Sharpeins on the parade deck of the newly completed Black Star Air Force Base outside the Keep of the Pen. Numbering one hundred and twenty total, those faithful Sharpeins that followed Pilocanci to this newly discovered realm stood in rapt attention as he began to speak. As he stood behind the podium, he began to speak," It has been a long and difficult jouney since our exile to this land. We have endured these hardships not in vain. By the grace of those who inhabit this world, we now no longer have to wander like nomads across the realms. In exchange, we built this base as a way to help defend the Keep. I want to thank you all for your hard work, personal dedication, and sacrifice. It is because of each and every one of you we have made it this far. Until we can return to our home of Wrinklestan, let us call this home, and let us call those who welcomed us here not friends, but family."

 

A roar of applause erupted from the crowd. On the walls of the keep, several Pennites looked on at the proceedings with a mix of wonder and amusement. It had been interesting watching the little dog-like creatures construct their airbase. Most of it seemed to pop up almost overnight. The gliders that flew night missions on occasions made little sound. The Sharpeins kept to themselves mostly due to the fact that; excluding the rare one that spoke fluent Wolfish, no one could understand their langauge of barks and growls. From what a few of the Pennites could gather, the leader, former Presidente Pilocanci was having his handful of science officers working on translators for the Pennites so they could understand their new guests. All in all, there was relative peace on both sides.

 

Later that day, Pilocanci was in Hanger 7 working on his personal combat glider, adding a new reflactor array that released a small ion cloud, disrupting projectile spells much like chaft decoys and destroys approaching missiles. Pilocanci was an expert pilot and driver. If his paws could reach the controls, he could fly it or drive it. Using a harmonic wrench to tighten the bolts on the array cover (harmonic wrenches used carefully focused sound to create controlled vibrations within a bolt to turn it into place snugly without having to physically tighen it), Pilocanci smiled as his work came to an end. He prefered to work alone on his glider on his free time. He heard footstep approach. He looked up from his aircraft to see three fellow Sharpeins; one of them his best friend, Collie Pawell. The other two he knew from the Science Center underground below the parade deck. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Presidente," Collie apologized. Pilocanci waved away the apology, not minding the interruption.

 

"What is it Mr. Pawell," Pilocanci asked as he put away his tools.

 

"The translators are completed," Collie informed," Also, was have an intellegence report of a disturbence in the far province Itholia, near the border of this realm."

 

"Distrubance?"

 

"Yes, sir," Mr Pawell confirmed," it appears as though there is a group of rogue dragons on the loose. It report is on your desk in your office."

 

"Very well, Mr. Pawell," Pilocanci nodded," I'll head there right now."

Edited November 16, 2004 by Pillow

[Pillow]

Pilocanci looked over the damage done to Immerpool as displayed on the monitor infront of him. The sub-orbital recon satellite, Arch Angel one, beamed back images of the choas and destruction. In a small window on the screen, a live video feed showed the face of one of the Arch Angel's crew. Commander Brisker had a grim look on his face as he spoke to Pilocanci," As you can see, sir, there is massive damage to the town. The local militia put up a heroic, but vain resistance. they managed to kill one dragon, but three more showwed up and pretty much leveled the town. The dragons were spotted moving Northeast from Immerpool into the Ravenskull Mountains. We tried to scan the mountians for their lairs but there is a large presence of Iron ore that is playing havoc with our geologic readers. In short, we lost them."

 

"Any idea what could have provoke this attack," Pilocanci asked.

 

A Sharpein with dark blue fur (very rare in Sharpeins) spoke up,"Mr. President?"

 

"Yes, Captian Mussel?"

 

The female intellegence officer straightened up a little," From our data gleaned from the records of the Keep, we have assertained that long ago the city of Immerpool was a refugee camp for some to escape a totilatarian government lead by a cabal of dark wizards. Appearently, the wizards vowed revenge on the refugees, but that was over a hundred years ago. Since then, Immerpool had grown into a large port city. It was our second choice for a base of operations if the Pennites refused us."

 

"So you think that these dragons that attacked Immerpool were controlled by the wizards," Pilocanci inquired.

 

"We don't know yet, sir," Captain Mussel answered," Although that is a likely scenario, it doesn't mean it's the right one. No one's heard from the group, which call themselves the Order of the White Lance. From what little intellegence we have on them, they are religous zealots that spent centuries studying magic. They set up a totilatarian mageocracy. With cruelty and terror, they made the citizen's lives a virtual hell. Those that tried to escape and were caught got boiled in lead."

 

"And I thought I was a vicious ruler," Pilocanci mused,"thank you, Captian Mussel. Here's what we are going to do; I want air patrols every six hours." Mr Pawell nodded. "Commander Brisker? I want Arch Angel to fix it's orbit on that mountain range. If anything bigger then a butterfly takes off from there, notify me immediately!"

 

"Yes, sir," Commander Brisker satuled.

 

"Captain Mussel," Pilocanci ordered," I want you to continue to search for more information on the White Lance. If need be, hire outside intellegence outfits to cover any avenues worth looking into." Captian Mussel bowwed, then turned and left. Pilocanci knew peace for his people wasn't going to last forever, but he never thought it would be disrupted so soon after they came out of exile. It seemed as soon as they found a place to call home, soemthing dark came to threaten it. He had learned hard lessons as a leader. He people had put their lives in his hands. He knew he couldn't fail them again...

[Pillow]

Pilocanci looked over the reports that covered his desk. On a flat screen computer monitor he saw satellite images in real time of the area the dragons had come from. The devistation that the dragons had dealt the town of Immerpool was nothing short of cataclismic. Nothing in the Sharpein's arsonal could compare. By their world treaty, they were not allowed to delibrately take life if they could afford not to. Accidents aside, Caniniod wars were remarkably bloodless.

 

The dictator picked up a piece of rolled parchment on loan from Peredhil, one of the Pennite Elders. It was an old illustration of a red dragon, or Rotchius Draconus. This species of dragon had dull red scales hard as steel plating, a massive wingspan, and the ability to breath fire. He stood there and reread the information. A small alarm sounded from the computer screen.

 

Pilocanci turned his attention toward it immediately. The face of Commander Brisker appeared. "Sir," he reported," we have a report of three large creatures that have just taken flight from the Ravenskull Mountians. We are tracking them now."

 

"Good work," Pilocanci pressed a button on his desk,"Colonial Satter?"

 

"Yes, Presidente," a voice sounded over the comm.

 

"We have a fix on the dragons," Pilocanci ordered," I want a squad of gliders on them. You have permission to destroy the dragons."

 

"Yes, Presidente," the Colonial answered," I will send the Black Rose Squadron. They are preparing for patrol duty. I'll personally give them their orders."

 

"Excellent. I will have Central Command guild you to your targets."

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, the combat gliders were in the air, fully armed with plaster missles and 'dusting' rounds. In the Central Command, combat controllers looked over the satellite images, feeding AGPS coordenances to the gliders nav system computers. Pilocanci looked on with antecipation. "This is Black Rose One," a voice sounded over the comm system," we have visual on targets.'

 

The dragons were flying lower to the ground then the gliders. Using a cloud bank for cover, the Sharpeins dropped into the clouds, letting their sensors trace the flying beasts. Easing the thrusters, the twelve gliders swooped in on the dragons. The first pair of gliders locked on and fire two guilded missiles. The dragon jerked as the missles impacted with it's scales. Plaster coated the beast and slowly began to harden, restricting it's movement. A second dragon unleashed a blast of flame at the dragon in front of it, burning away the plaster. With a roar, the lead dragon let loose with a blast of fire from it's maw. Though the lead glider was able to barrel roll, his wingman's glider was caught, bursting into a flower of flame a debris. The dragons broke off their pattern of flight to engage the much smaller gliders.

 

Another pair of gliders honed in from above one of the dragons, firing two more missiles apiece. The dragon flared his wings batting one of the missles away as the other three hit their marks. The dragon's left wing was coated, while it's from left leg was stuck to it's chest. As it fell from the sky, it used it's free arm to weave a magical sigil. As it did so, a bolt of lightning flashed, strking one of the gliders, rupturing it's fuel source. the resulting EMP burst knocked out the electronics on the second glider. "I'm hit, I'm hit!" the paniced voice screamed before it's communication system fizzled out.

 

The remaining gliders engaged the two remaining dragons. Weaving sigils in the air, the largest of the dragons summoned a tornado-like whirlwind. As it came in contact with the gliders, it ripped them apart, wings shredded like paper, the structures were torn to threads. The bladed whirlwind succeeded in destroying all but three of the gliders, which made a hasty retreat back to Black Star Airbase. Pilocanci had a sick feeling in his stomach that he knew wouldn't go away for a long, long time. They needed help, badly. 'Time to call in the Huskiians,' he thought.