The Rockaverse

"I am a Shaman of my people," M'Kama explained. "I would like to learn more about the religions of foreign powers. I already know much of the Matran's but I know very little of Longbao's," the Yyb stated, truthfully because that, while not his current priority, was very much the case. "Especially as our two planets are neighbors, siblings! There could be some shared history, we're not aware of."

One of Bones' mouth spores crawled stupidly close to the Worm's goopy form...

The usual smile Price bore soon faded from his face as he listened to what Arubak had to say. He peered over the map, then back up to the warlord before him, studying both him and the map very carefully. Price took another soft inhale of cigarette smoke as he contemplated Arubak's proposal.

"Mr. Arubak, I'm afraid you'll need to be a little more clear with me. Land is a rather ambiguous, general term. Are you referring to manors? Estate lands? Farms and ranches? Or... Are you referring to entire planets?" Price's gaze turned to Arubak's as he awaited the man's response, and studied him.

"You're about to be a Sham, man," Kanji replied, inhaling so hard the cigarette's burning smoke invaded his sinuses. "You after a visa- a transport? You clearly need to get to Longbao to do your... important religious work, correct?"

"A visa?" M'Kama pondered aloud. "Could be useful in the future but for now, I simply would like access to your texts? Or more accurately your prophecies."


***

"Whole planets? I ain't that bold now!" Arubak chuckled. "No, no, I'm more interested in the business of owning land. Estate. Green fields, the likes of which ain't never been seen before on the Rock. You get me that and I promise to get you whatever kinda help you need!"

"We don't store many of religious texts on the Rock, sir shaman. You could request access to the priests but..." Kanji folded his arms. "What is it you're really after?"

***

Girthfield looked out over the desert from atop the Holy Lands walls. He inhaled, the cool desert air crisping his nose-hairs. Behind him the golden domes of the Holy Land reflected the cloudy sky, and the moon beyond. Girthfield unbuttoned his trousers and grabbed his member. He began to piss, a hearty stream aimed down the plummet of the wall.

Arubak had been a gracious enough host to the survivors of the battle of the wall. The remaining Knights, their strange guest Azure who had more than proven herself in the slaughter, and himself, the sole Guardian on the rock. In the three days since they'd been housed, fed, and healed as best as Arubak could provide.

Arubak had already sent out hunting parties searching after the Lords of Rock. He'd promised Girthfield he'd not harm Otis if they were captured but the entire thing felt uneasy to him. A warlord with the power of the cannon, if he could retrieve it. The Rock was a tinder box, and it was so close to ignition. Girthfield swung his dick, droplets flying out into the dunes below.

Azure had left them a few days in. The woman was not a Knight, rather a skilled hanger on they'd found- soon though it became clear she was working for her own shadowy organization. They, being the two none knight survivors of the battle of the wall, had grown a begrudging companionship in their lodging time. Not a lot of conversations, but enough for Girthfield to know she wouldn't stay. She was after the Lords of Rock, but perhaps not quite for the same reasons as she.

She left unexpectedly- but the Knight before she went, Girthfield had told Azure something. If she found them, keep Otis safe.

Girthfield shook his cock before buttoning up trousers. He wrapped his cloak around his body as the winds picked up again and began to walk back down the wall, toward the the Pair O' Dice guard entrance he had emerged from.

***

"Have we gotten any transmission?" SIr Nardleheim's voice could be heard as Girthfield entered the lavish bunker. The Knight was sipping his soup, looking out as his fellow unarmoured companions.

"You lads truly had no plan if your Tryptian died, did you?" Girthfield said, shaking his head as he passed through the room.
Nardleheim rose an eyebrow, the six or so remaining Knights joining him to stare the man down. "We're the Knights. We're here to serve the greater good," Nardleheim said. "Sometimes figuring out what direction that good is in is hard to do."

"It's simple, it's wherever Anaszia points," Girthfield replied over his shoulder. "Or was it the Empress of Longbao your grand master is a slave to, I forget."

"I'm after many things," M'Kama shrugged. "But for now I just want a simple understanding of the foreign cultures that have made their home on the Rock. Longbaoans. Matranians. I'm of a studious nature. All I wish to do is learn," M'Kama shrugged. "It cost quite a bit if money for me to get the approval of the guard for thus venture. Humor me at least, Longbaoan."

***

"If you think serving..." Sir Hoontah marched up to Girthfield, pointing an armored finger at the guardian. He exhaled. "Our goal is simple. We protect the peace. I should hope the Guardians strive to do the same," he turned around. "In the absence or death of The Tryptian command goes to Sir Nardleheim. He died in battle a Knight's death and he shall not go unavenged..." Hoontah promised. "I made sure of that."

Sir Belvis laughed in Girthfield's face from the sidelines.

"We're not here to exact revenge on the local populace, we are here to protect it- to stop the threats before they become unstoppable," Girthfield replied. "We can still prevent total war. The Tryptians death will be that of a martyr if we can stop the Rock from killing itself."

Hoontah smacked Girthfield's shoulder, hostility replaces by by a tired smile. "You do speak some sense, Guardian. Do not worry, we won't sully from our assigned task...however," Hoontah took a step back. "The Tryptian will be avenged....even if not by a us."

"Our top priority is securing the weapon," Nardleheim nodded as he finished his bowl. "We're outnumbered and outgunned on this world- it seems like aligning ourselves with Arubak is the best choice."

"You Knights are aligning yourselves with a warlord?" Girthfield frowned. "These men... are the enemy of the people, the one you're allied with today will be waging a war on the populace tomorrow."

"We don't have the numbers, guardian," Nardleheim replied.

"Neither do the Lords of Rock, and they are faring," Girthfield frowned. "Balonius Maximus."

The dashing smile returned to Price's face as he nodded more understandingly now. "Well you would be surprised by how bold some people can be. But you asked me before if I can produce what you desire? Yes. Will I produce what you desire? Yes. But this does come with some changes you see." Price cast his gaze back to the map for a moment while taking a final drag from his cigarette, stamping it out in an ash tray and returning the stem into his coat pocket.

"My father used to caution me about taking risks. Later on in life I learned a mantra of my own though: Risks Return Rewards. This situation we're speaking of puts me uncomfortably close to risk again, personal risk in fact, more so than perhaps even some of my contacts. Having said that, I will need more in return for these specific services. Not money or anything like that, I'll need time to truly consider my options, but I'll likely be more inclined towards things with more utility, you might say."

Steppenwolf folded his hands together and leaned forward in his chair, looking between both the map and the warlord. "What you're asking for will vary in difficulty to obtain, but obtaining it can be done. You may need to put in a bit of your own efforts though, some of the contacts you'll want will be more interested in currency than you and I. Tell me though, is there any special significance to any of these planets you have marked off here? Price pointed to some of the red marks on the map.

"Tera Roth?" Seru frowned. The name seemed familiar, however her mind was on Gutner and their grand plan to take back the Witches thralls. Perhaps she'd remember later, "Right, well, let's figure out what to do, shall we?"

**

The sun was high in the sky, slowly descending lower toward the western horizon to which the canon group had traveled from. Seru lay atop a dune, her body flat against the sand as she peered through a rifle scope toward a large walled camp in the far distance. She pursed her lips. This was Gutner's camp, bigger and more armed then she was expecting. The cowgirl slid across the sand to her right where Ash, Syra and Otis lay against the dune, peeking at the camp as she did, and she handed Ash the rifle so that he could have a closer look, "It ain't gonna be easy..."

Seru glanced down behind them where Horik, Clorik and Bones waited with the worm, hidden below the slope with the gun buried deep in the sand. Bones was trying to make small talk, "So uh, Horik wassit? About yer werm...."

Back atop the dune, Seru's attention turned back to Ash who was now passing the rifle to Syra, "What d'you think?"

There was a ruined wall of stone surrounding the homestead below the lords of rock, inside they could see a few small fields and a structure in the centre. Once a military outpost, a fort of some sort. At the wall was a small posse on ant-back, rifles, short-swords and shotguns out. The guards at the draw door of the walls looked nervous as out of the walls a familiar figure marched- Crown Prince Theory, a rich looking gentlemen emerging from the walls behind him with his hands bound. Some sort of prisoner exchange?

There was a ruined wall of stone surrounding the homestead below the lords of rock, inside they could see a few small fields and a structure in the centre. Once a military outpost, a fort of some sort. At the wall was a small posse on ant-back, rifles, short-swords and shotguns out. The guards at the draw door of the walls looked nervous as out of the walls a familiar figure marched- Crown Prince Theory, a rich looking gentlemen emerging from the walls behind him with his hands bound. Some sort of prisoner exchange?

"Theory..." Syra hissed as she peered through the rife's scope. She fought the urge to squeeze the trigger, killing him wasn't worth giving away their position. Or was it? No, she thought better of it and instead focused on the man behind him, Blacksun. Her blood boiled and she handed the rife back to Ash before she lost the ability to keep the rifle from discharging. "He's got his own men here too, Blacksun must have been caught up in the kidnapping of the Witch's Thralls. He doesn't want them but Blacksun is his camp's whiskey distributor...so they have an agreement of sorts." She shook her head as she watched Blacksun mount an ant behind one of Theory's men. The two groups seemed peaceful enough, but things began to sour as Theory raised his blade to one of the guards of the camp.


****


"You ever touch this man again, and I won't just gut you, I'll burn this place to the ground and round up your little families," he leaned in closer, the tip of his blade cutting the fabric of the sweating guard's shirt, "I'll cut out your tongue and make you all watch as my men take what they want from your wives and daughters. Then, you will feel the cold of Sorillian steel before your world fades to black," He smiled slyly, "Understood? Good, make sure your Bastard of a boss understands or I'll be forced to ensure he does," with that he nodded and one of his men let loose an arrow he'd ignited, launching it at one of the fruit-bearing plants just beyond the gate.

The Remnants than rode off, laughter trailing behind them. "You should maintain a low-profile for a while, my friend!" Theory called to Blacksun with a grin.

"Can't thank you enough for the assist, shame we had to leave those Thralls behind. Damn load of fun they were, ah well, pleasure comes and goes!" he laughed.

During their time in the desert, the Lords of Rock had 'happened' across an old Sorillian munitions cache. 'Happened' wasn't exactly the right word, as Ash knew precisely where to find it, something very few others could do. It was built by the Captain's own special force on The Rock, being uncertain he could trust the imperial military to keep him and his men safe, they took to building these hidden bunkers and never let their superiors on to what was going on.

The group was able to replenish their munitions, explosives, and some other supplies. A few new firearms made it into the group's hands, but nothing too special. Just enough to put up a good fight, or to survive. For now.

As Syra had taken the rifle from Ash, he turned to look at Seru. "Small group of guards at the doors, and some other folks on ant back that don't look particularly friendly. I believe I saw some children around there too..." He grimaced as he looked to the canon. "I hope the slavers are stupid enough to just surrender. Those children ought to be left out of this."

The name 'Theory' seemed to hiss from out of Syra's mouth. Ash looked to her with concern as she passed the rifle back to him, his stomach feeling like it was turning over inside of him. "Theory eh? I was under the impression that tumors grew, not ran around all over the desert. Regardless though, I suggest we perhaps wait till he and his men are further off. They may call our bluff on the bullets, and I'm not sure we can take him and his men, plus the men inside the fort."

Syra's words caused Ash to cock his eyebrow as he checked his firearms to make sure they were in proper order, one last, marginally paranoid, time. "I wonder if perhaps Blacksun was the target? Would seem a little odd to kidnap him and the thralls just arbitrarily."

"Utility?" Arubak questioned, raising his eyebrows over his shades as he took another puff of his cigarette. "I can manage that. As for the land....ain't nothin' special really. Weren't too long ago I payed what was left of y'alls civilization a visit. Scoped out the planets, had some fine dinin' with some business associates. That war left a lot of land on the table..."

Arubak glanced up at the ceiling as he inclined back in his chair. "And to my recollection, ain't no one comin' to claim it. Maybe it's 'cause they're dead. Maybe it's 'cause they're preoccupied. But it's ripe for the pickin', so I figured.." the warlord shrugged. "I own at pretty piece of real estate right here on the Rock...why not buy some land out there? Expand my business and whatnot?"

Legionary Iomer marched beneath the full moon. It was smaller than the ones on his planet, and it was singular entity unlike the half dozen or so satellites that rotated in his familiar skies. Still, even though the stars were foreign, somewhere up there in the saphire abyss was Sor, and somewhere a lot closer was the Devil's Trident, burning megatons of coal and vaporizing tanks upon tanks of water to chug toward to this uncharted world.

The wind had Iomer pinned down. It felt like hiking through the mountains of Urakas, who would have known a desert could be this cold? One foot after another he marched forward, his Sorillian blue cloak wrapped around his body as tightly as he could hold it. Ahead, he spotted something, in the shadow of the dune's spine. He approached carefully. It appeared to be a frothy pile of shit, though now coated in speckles of sand. The wind blasted the scent into his face. By the Matran, human by the smell. He wasn't alone.

"Handsss on your heeeaad, space man," A voice spoke from behind Iomer. The legionary turned to see a trio of men emerge from the shadows of the desert, rifles aimed at him. They'd been invisible to him- they knew these sands better than he. The leader clenched his sharpened teeth to Iomer. "Youuu are with the blue cloakssss who landeddd here," The man hissed. "Whooo are youuu?"

***

Kanji grinned. "You wish to learn about... the various cultures. About Longbao." Kanji grinned. "Well, my friend, Longbao is too changing faster than you realize."

"I am a Knight," Iomer said carefully, his eyes squinting against the sand and darkness. "From Sor. We were shot down and I've been looking for help." Iomer slowly raised his good hand in surrender, his broken one remaining in its makeshift sling. "Know anything about that?"

His eyes glanced back the way he'd come, noting that several of his scouts had seen the interaction and were lining up shots on the men. His raised hand twitched involuntarily. The men didn't seem like they were about to shoot him, but if they did, he would only have a split second to react. The moment he made the signal, his scouts would fire.

"But you still have history, records, many interesting of which one could learn from," M'Kama nodded. "I understand that much has changed after the war, but surely there must be something..." the Yyb thought to himself for a moment. "But, perhaps that can wait another time since this seems to be quite quite a busy time for your embassy. So, I'll tell you what; grant us clearance to visit the Sorillian embassy and we'll be out of your hair for now."

Price nodded in agreement as Arubak spoke, the smile softened as if sympathetic to the warlord's cause. "What you seek is certainly obtainable, but just know that forgotten land today may not be so forgotten tomorrow. My contacts can help you obtain the land, again, at a risk, but you'll also want their assistance, as well as my own, in ensuring that it stays your land."

There was a slight sigh from the man as he contemplated the next thing he was going to say, feeling somewhat hesitant at first. "I suppose it would be a courtesy to you to be perfectly open about something. While the land may not be so hotly demanded right now, if some well connected nobleman comes along and decides he likes what you have, you're going to have a real challenge trying to keep it in your hands. It's not impossible mind you, but I think you and I are going to need to employ a few tactics more oriented towards... Subterfuge. And politics. Much as I despise it." He chuckled slightly, but it came out more as a disdainful huff.

Price returned his gaze to the map, letting his eyes trace over the whole thing. "You'll need allies, and loyal employees, but assuming you can get that Mr. Arubak... Well I think you could have the makings of quite the interesting business venture. And if you are correct that the 'owner's' are nowhere to be found, then it seems to me that time is on your side."

Arubak chuckled, "Well, now....I can stand to learn a thing or two 'bout politics, I suppose," he admitted, leaning back in his chair. "Allies can be bought. And better than loyal employees....I got my family. I think everything should just about be in order....'cept for one last request on my end."

Arubak pushed his chair backwards and stood up, lookong out and window as he scratched his chin, glancing down at various workers reconstructing some his damaged walls after his skirmish with the Lords of Rock. "I'm workin' with the Knights on account of both of is havin' a stake in takin' down the varmints made a fool out of us...they promised me some things but I don't quite expect 'em to keep. I ain't suspicious of 'em or nothin' but they just don't got kinda pull."

He turned to face Price. "But you might, my friend. There's somethin' I value far more'n that land. Far more'n all the gold in the Holy Land. I wanna meet with a certain individual livin' at the top of the Matranical Nobility. I wanna meet with the former queen of Sor; Anora Maximus."

There was a moment of silence in the room as Price let his mind quickly attempt to unravel what had just been said. Anora? What would a warlord from The Rock want with the ex-Queen of Sor? Furthermore, Price had very, very little love for anyone in a position such as hers. Then again, it was Matranical nobles that brought down the guillotine on all that Price had built, not the Sorillians. They weren't very different from each other of course, but in a situation like this... Perhaps the enemy of Price's enemy was his friend? If only temporarily even. That is, of course, assuming that Anora has any hatred for the Matranical Empire. Given her circumstances though, Price thought it was at least possible.

"That's a very hefty request, one that some might even call impossible. But personally, I've always enjoyed a challenge." His lips curled into a sly smile.

"I can help you meet the old queen, but this sort of venture may take time, and a great deal of research. I don't know much about the situation here on The Rock, but I know that big canon that had been sitting outside the city was certainly not built here. There's a lot of questions about the politics going on right now in the rest of the Galaxy, and it's important that we answer them before we attempt to meet Anora. For all we know, we may show up only for the Matran to bombard the entire planet. Certainly wouldn't make for a good first meeting."

Price pulled a little notepad from his jacket pocket, along with a pen, and began to take some notes. "So, we have property and property deeds you have an interest in. A meeting with Anora Maximus, ex-Queen of Sor. For my end of things, I'll need a little time to sit down and organize my thoughts, and my needs. But we have a bit of a road map to start with, and I have some clues as to which contacts I'll need to be meeting with. If I may ask though Mr. Arubak, what exactly are your intentions on this meeting with Anora?" Price asked quizzically.

"I know it may not be any of my business, but... Well it's a very unique goal, one that few people have had since the galaxy went to the Matran."

"Let's just say there's business I need to discuss with her," Arubak shrugged. "No offense meant o'clurde, but I ain't particularly inclined to discuss the details. You unstand."

"I don't think Blacksun would have been their target if they just let Theory take him without a fight...he must have just gotten in the way and they grabbed him too. Though they likely don't know how much money he has or, they're actually afraid of the Remnants...whatever the case, waiting for them to be out of the wat before we storm this place is a good idea."