Author’s note: Following is the second part of my latest story detailing the adventures shared by my most direct proxy character, Kronisk, and one character fielded by a very nice lass I met on World Of Warcraft. If you came to this page via an external link and wish to read the previous part, follow this link.
The executive summary of that part is that Kronisk and Corrigwen have come back to Kali-Yuga about a month or three after having a wedding ceremony on Azeroth. It has been brought to their attention that representatives of the new stock enemy on Kali-Yuga, the Overlanders, have taken to taking long-distance photographs of schoolchildren in the Ursine village.
Now, this middle section of this part is going to be the longest primarily because it is where the majority of the goings-on in the story occur. Sorry about that.
Without further ado…
Crimes against other citizens of the Allied Realms and its collective city-states were relatively rare, so the buildings in which the internal police divisions kept evidence were generally small. Pieces of evidence were grouped by the matter they related to, which was in turn assigned a record number under which they were all filed. In the Ursine village, the evidence storage building was about half of what Kronisk called a city block, and only a third of its storage space was really in use. At the front desk, Kronisk simply showed the clerk his card that bore his image and several pieces of text in Dwarvish that confirmed yes, he really was that Kronisk.
The recovered photographic equipment was kept in a vault that was airtight, and required both Kronisk and Corrigwen to wear suits. Kronisk took a look at this equipment and, assuring the staff that such precautions were mostly unnecessary, asked them to bring him several trays and some specific chemicals. When this process was complete, Kronisk, much to the horror and amazement of the staff in the building, began pulling the bodies of the cameras apart. Taking out what looked like very small metallic cylinders, Kronisk spoke into a microphone on his shoulder, stating simply that there were two camera kits, and both cameras were loaded with used-up rolls of thirty-five millimetre film.
In the bags that the intruding soldiers had brought the cameras in, Corrigwen found a total of another half-dozen rolls of what Kronisk called film. Placing these near Kronisk, Corrigwen listened with puzzlement as he asked the staff remaining in the room to adjust the lights in a specific manner. Once the adjustment was complete, Kronisk began to open up the metallic rolls, remove strips of what appeared to be plastic, and place them into the first tub of liquid.
The process involved putting strips into chemicals, transferring each of what Kronisk called “cells” onto large sheets of paper, and putting these papers through further chemical processes to turn them into pictures. The pictures were not exactly comforting. None of the bears said anything, but Corrigwen could recognise some of the places and bears in the images.
A typical image amongst this substantial collection consisted of a view of a school building, or a building near the school such as an inn or one of the nearby grocers where the elder cubs hung around during school downtimes. The majority of the images showed at least one cub. Most of the images were completely innocuous, and showed nothing other than cubs doing cub things. But on the occasions when a cub was doing something in front of the lens’ eye that interested the photographer, the images became sharper, more detailed, and often bore on-negative annotations. The annotations always appeared at the bottom right of the image, and although nobody in the room knew exactly what they said, Kronisk had a suspicion that they stated something about one or more cubs being potentially a Mage. All such annotated images showed a cub with some form of light or energy around their paws. Judging from the looks on the cubs’ faces, these moments were simply reflexes or very momentary slips in judgement.
Although there were six used rolls of film, only six exposures had really been used in the final roll. The other eighteen had somehow been prematurely exposed. The first four pictures from this roll were little different from the other hundred and twenty pictures in this collection. Cubs wandering playgrounds or doing things in nearby buildings, occasionally with an adult bear or Humanoid nearby. The fifth shot in the roll was a little different. Kronisk estimated that the lens used to take these pictures would have needed to have a focal length of at least a thousand millimetres, if he recognised the buildings in the pictures. This meant that the photographer could have been so far away as to be invisible to a bear, even if they were trying to gain the bears’ attention.
The fifth image in this last roll, however, showed an Elvish woman looking straight into the camera. Corrigwen knew from the tattoos and frightening look on this woman’s face that this was Himalataiel, a personal bodyguard to the Queen of Nagëlheim, and often held to be the greatest of Elvish warriors. What was frightening about the look upon Himalataiel‘s face was that it looked more like a loving, amorous expression than that of someone who had spotted an enemy.
The next exposure was both dramatically and subtly different. Himalataiel had moved closer to the camera. Her face almost filled the picture. Behind the Elf woman’s barely in-frame shoulder, however, one could see one of the blades of the two-ended sword that Himalataiel liked to wield. Ghost images of bear cubs could be seen in this frame.
Although no further images were available, anyone could guess what happened next. Himalataiel had probably sprinted at demon-like speed to the position of the intruding Overlanders, killed any escorts they had, and beaten them into submission. A report included amongst the evidence stated that by the time support troops had arrived to ensure the security of the area in which these spies were found, any additional Overlanders had simply vanished. One of the younger soldiers, a newcomer to garrison duty, stated that he could have sworn that he saw a very thin slice of flesh that was almost invisible except for the way light reflected through it and shone upon the snow. But it was just as likely that Himalataiel had come to this area and only found two spies.
Himalataiel‘s written report had been far more concise. In very formal Elvish, it stated that she had only found two enemy soldiers, bags of equipment she did not understand the nature of, and weapons. There were slightly more weapons than she would expect two soldiers to have, but two soldiers was her story, and she intended to stick to it.
Amongst the paperwork, most of which listed the contents of the spies’ baggage, was a sealed piece of paper. Corrigwen could not read Draconic, but she knew from the way Kronisk reacted to reading the Draconic written on the outside that it was intended for him to read.
“Thank you, gentlemen, for your time and effort,” said Kronisk. “I shall help refile the films and the developed prints before I leave. Captain, please get on the horn to both the Bear Council and the Council Of Spirit-Wielders immediately. Tell them that Kronisk says we now have a priority one and therefore classified situation. None of what was seen here this night is to be discussed with anyone other than the Council and those who were here.”
Tucking the sealed paper into a coat pocket, Kronisk immediately set about moving the photographic equipment into a container in the appropriate place in the evidence lockers. The printed photographs were each placing into a machine that whirred and shone light for several seconds before being placed in plastic sleeves which were then sealed and placed in paper envelopes. Filing these things away, Kronisk told the bears that the black mark should be placed on the cabinet in which these exhibits went. Nobody other than the Council Of Spirit-Wielders was to even know these exhibits were here.
Corrigwen, worried, followed Kronisk to the exit, out into the village streets, and towards his home.
“If I am not mistaken, an escalation in the kind of threat that the Overlanders are presenting to us has occurred,” Kronisk said as he took the piece of paper from his pocket and opened it.
Although the official statement in literature from the Council Of Spirit-Wielders divided spirit-wielders into two kinds, there was a third, rarely-acknowledged kind that Kronisk kept an even closer eye upon. Every now and then, people would be observed using abilities and powers that enhanced the physical abilities they normally used, but were also normally thought of as exclusive to spirit-wielders, especially Mages. Rose, the daughter of Gilmick, was an interesting example of this, being able to make the spirits hasten the movements of her paws and fingers in order to enhance her musical ability. But many Ursine spirit-wielders were also sure that Rose would be the first example of a Bard, a spirit-wielder whose powers derived more or less exclusively from music.
Himalataiel was a more subtle example of an individual who could enhance her abilities through powers of the spirits. Her coordination was enhanced by spirits. Occasionally, she could put on such an incredible burst of speed that, if necessary, she could be at the opposite end of a city in a second or less. But the key to her uncanny martial prowess was that she could hear the thoughts, conscious or otherwise, of her opponents. Any living thing with hostile intent toward her was broadcast into her consciousness in clear, multiple-channel. This made the vast majority of duels with Himalataiel predictable and rather one-sided.
One of the abilities that Kronisk had, but never liked to talk about with anyone, was to boost the morale of anyone that he could observe in battle, however distantly. When any soldiers of the Allied Realms felt their confidence in their leaders or the possibility of victory falter, Kronisk could project visions of a frightened enemy cowering before them into their collective consciousness. This often inspired exhausted, wounded, or emotionally broken soldiers to keep going in spite of themselves.
Sitting in front of one of his projection screens, Kronisk opened the document from the evidence depot and read it carefully. Not minding that Corrigwen used one of her minions to read the document from over his shoulder, he processed its contents thoughtfully. The words had been spoken to the writer by Himalataiel, but whomever had written them was from neither Azeroth nor Kali-Yuga. They were clearly known to Kronisk, however, judging from turns of phrase or idioms that only Kronisk could fully understand.
“For some reason, the Overlanders have a secret order that is meant as an opposite and counter to our kind,” Kronisk said with a sigh. “That is essentially what the information in this document breaks down to.”
By “our kind”, Kronisk meant spirit-wielders in general. Mages, Healers, the totemics, or even the mildly “enhanced”.
“It seems that Himalataiel found several such individuals in the hills with our friendly photographers,” Kronisk continued. “That thin slice of flesh that one young soldier spoke of in his report is what Himalataiel cut off a swordsman’s abdomen in the fight. I have told you at one time that Himalataiel is able to discern the combative thoughts of individuals who are focused upon her. Himalataiel is of the opinion that the swordsman she cut that sliver of flesh from had a similar ability. But not one developed to the same degree.”
“How far less developed does Himalataiel believe this person’s ability?” Corrigwen asked, fascinated by this story.
“Himalataiel got bored with the constant exchange of parries and thrusts,” Kronisk explained. “So once she had disposed of the three other soldiers she says were present in addition to this duellist and the two photographers, she began backing this duellist towards the caves and rivers Northeast of the village.”
Corrigwen laughed, and guessed most of what had happened. Approximately fifteen minutes walk to the Northeast of the village was a large number of caves and rivers. During this time of the year, they were less inhabited, but Trolls with children to raise and feed used the caves as sanctuaries and meeting points to do business with the Allied Realms. The River Troll that the Allied Realms had the most direct contact with, a curious but somewhat dense Troll by the name of Lensom, was one such Troll. Although he did spend a lot of time going to meetings with peoples of the Allied Realms and helping maintain peace, he also spent a lot of time caring for both of his children and their mother. And during the season where the bodies of water to the North of the Ursine village mostly turned to ice, he spent a lot of his time in this cave.
“It seems that Lensom recognised Himalataiel by her tattoos, hair, and Elvish radiance,” Kronisk continued as he read through the document. “But whomever she fought with was clearly a stranger, so Lensom decided to give a little aid by uttering a laugh.”
Corrigwen laughed a little. When Lensom laughed, it was not a continuous hiccup of mirth-like sounds. Instead, it was a slow, ponderous heaving of sounds, mostly a “ha” sound. Corrigwen had heard this sound before. Lensom laughed often, but when it was in the presence of others, he dragged out every “ha” in the laugh so far that it occupied the majority of a second. And Lensom, like all male Trolls of similar size, had an exceptionally deep voice. When Lensom laughed like this from within a cave, the walls would vibrate slightly in response.
“The enemy was distracted for a fraction of a second, during which time Himalataiel was able to kill him twice,” Kronisk read from the report. “With the two photographers escorted to parts classified, the soldiers were rounded up, brought to the cave, executed if they had not already been killed, and cooked up to be a light snack for the children.”
Corrigwen shook her head.
“Just kidding,” Kronisk said with a chuckle. “Lensom apparently asked that the living Overlanders be sent home with no further harm. Odin only knows exactly what those surviving Overlanders told their bosses when they returned to their land.”
Corrigwen giggled and patted Kronisk on the shoulder. She did not know the dietary habits of Kali-Yuga’s Trolls, nor much of their ways, but she had met Lensom enough times to know, after a momentary pause of consideration following the first version of the story, that Kronisk was kidding. Lensom, in spite of his enormous size and strength, was one of the gentlest creatures she had yet heard of. For several decades now, he had come to the aid of the Allied Realms, especially citizens who were not physically powerful enough to fight for themselves. Although the Troll was still a very solitary creature who preferred the company of family and little besides, the people of the Allied Realms always welcomed his visits.
Kronisk, on the other hand, was hatred personified where the Overlanders were concerned. Ever since she had originally met Kronisk, Corrigwen had felt a fluctuating sense of unease concerning how Kronisk chose to deal with those he considered to be enemies.
But it was all a matter of perspective. During visits to the Wunderwerck, whilst Kronisk had visited persons of import to him, Odin had sat with Corrigwen and shown her pieces of Terra’s history. And whilst the images of armed majorities murdering huge numbers of minorities for no other reason than minority status horrified Corrigwen, it also made something very clear. Kronisk could not help what he was, any more than a little boy who had grown up with no teaching or social contact could help being a man in a feral state. His powers were brutal, hideous, even terrible, but the people he used them on chose to do things that warranted their use. That was an important distinction.
“I fear that somehow, a small group of Overlanders have gained access to what their leaders would consider unnatural abilities,” Kronisk concluded. “If this is the case, we need to revise our strategy in dealing with the Overlanders slightly. To offer those with such abilities a way out.”
With that, Kronisk kissed Corrigwen for a lengthy time. Climbing out of his seat, Kronisk left the room, motioning to Corrigwen. Corrigwen followed about a second behind Kronisk. Once they had reached the master bedroom, Kronisk circled about behind Corrigwen. Putting his hands on her waist as he knelt, he pressed his lips to the side of her neck and whispered that he wished she could see the things he saw in the spirits that emerged in his sight when he allowed. Especially the things he saw in her spirit.
Kronisk‘s mission, as he explained it to the rulers of the Allied Realms and the Council of Spirit-Wielders, was to draw at least one of the Overlanders’ spirit-wielders to him. Once that step was complete, he would apprehend them, and question them at his leisure. Corrigwen had an idea that this meant he would inflict pain upon them in different manners in order to discover any information he could from them. She was not naïve enough to believe that any government, even one as noble as the collective of the Allied Realms’ governments, would not exhaust this option if they felt sufficiently threatened. But it made her incredibly uneasy.
In addition to himself, Corrigwen and two agents of the Allied Realms would be awaiting any emergent Overlanders. Who those agents would be was something Kronisk left to the discretion of Falathien. The agents would be distant enough to be undetectable to all but the most advanced of Healers or Mages, but close enough that Kronisk could summon them and have them arrive by arcane means in a few seconds.
Now, wandering along the ridge of a mountain several days to the East of the Ursine village, Corrigwen wondered to herself about the limits of Kronisk‘s knowledge of the world around him. Was he certain that enemy agents would come after him if he were seen at this place? Or was he just going for an incredibly long walk and hoping that he would be lucky enough to catch an enemy along the way? Corrigwen really had no idea, but she did know that Kronisk would not have come here without expecting something to happen.
Keeping the both of them warm with a heat-emitting orb, Kronisk explained to Corrigwen as they walked that these mountains that where they were now was once thought of as the very end of the world. Before the Elves and the Dwarrow had come to realise that their war with one another was a ghastly mistake, neither of them had ventured to this side of these mountains. Centuries later, Humans inhabited a small city at the summit of one path through the mountains that linked the majority of the Allied Realms to the cold, frosty lands where almost none dared to venture. A lengthy walk to the South of that city was a slightly larger city of Elves who, some said, had become a good deal less Elvish as a result of their proximity to Humans and Dwarrow.
Sitting atop a cliff near a fire, Kronisk and Corrigwen watched the horizon through spyglasses of varying designs. Several feet to Corrigwen‘s right was a minion that she referred to as an Observer. Observers looked enough like the Beholders that were commonly spoken of in tall tales around the Allied Realms that Corrigwen could summon one on Kali-Yuga without arousing too much of the wrong kind of suspicion. More than that, the Observer was useful for additional observation.
For hours that even Kronisk lost count of, he and Corrigwen swapped stories concerning the traditional lores of their worlds. Corrigwen only knew a small fraction of what was available from Azerothian history, but she knew enough about Warlocks and their history to keep Kronisk curious. Kronisk‘s stories consisted more of traditional teachings that were often told to the elder children at Kali-Yuga’s schools. The stories in themselves were incredibly interesting, but Corrigwen could guess at their meaning approximately halfway through them. It was far more interesting to Corrigwen that no matter how traditionally a story started out, Kronisk could always find a way to make them seem alien and bizarre at the end.
Corrigwen knew there was an approximate time frame in which Kronisk expected agents of the Overlanders to make their way to somewhere near this point. Whether he absolutely knew it was going to happen, Corrigwen was unsure. Kronisk always couched his language to suggest uncertainty when he was reporting to others, especially the Mage called Saurrodien who was his immediate (and only) superior.
But as Kronisk added another length of wood to the fire nearby, Corrigwen‘s Observer began to chatter enthusiastically in its own tongue. Corrigwen understood it. Whether Kronisk did, she did not know, but the information was important enough to warrant translation. A full squadron of Overlanders bearing various equipments had just appeared at the Northern shore. What the Observer reported concerning how they came to be where it could see them was too lengthy and abstract for Corrigwen to translate right now. The important point was that these Overlanders numbered around two dozen, were armed, and appeared to have some idea of where they were going.
Taking an orb from one of his coat pockets, Kronisk brought up the images of two agents. Himalataiel, Corrigwen recognised by sight. The other agent appeared to be one of Tasatirwë‘s Royal Bodyguard. Both looked like they individually could fight two dozen Overlanders for a bit of exercise.
In one of Kali-Yuga’s Elvish tongues, Kronisk told the two women to stand by, he would be calling on them in a matter of minutes. As he said this, an enormous Eagle appeared before the cliff face. As the images of the two Elf women faded, Kronisk turned, faced the Eagle, and greeted him in Dwarvish. Addressing the gargantuan avian as Palanagar, Kronisk carefully explained that he and Corrigwen needed transport and possibly military support to intercept yet another party of those bothersome Human-looking pests that had also shot at and injured many aves of varying races. After a short sung instruction from Palangar, Kronisk helped Corrigwen climb onto the giant bird’s back. In its own language, the Observer told Corrigwen it could be summoned again when she needed it, and disappeared into nothingness. If Palanagar gave any indication that he was bothered by the presence of the minion, Corrigwen did not see it. Getting atop Palanagar in front of Corrigwen, Kronisk thanked the great Eagle before indicating his readiness in Dwarvish.
The flight was quick, a little hard on the skin, and rather unstable. But it brought Corrigwen to a point so close to the Overlanders that she could see their faces perfectly, all before any one of them had time to react. Quickly dismounting, Kronisk drew out an orb, bellowed a Dwarvish word into it, and threw it at a point behind him.
Two Elves emerged from the black flash of light that emerged from the orb. Both Elves drew swords and spoke harsh words to the Overlanders. Climbing from Palanagar‘s back, Corrigwen re-summoned her Observer and patiently told it to keep its eyes open for any latecomers.
The Highland Elf that Himalataiel had brought with her was a Captain and bodyguard that Corrigwen would later learn was named Orveren. Orveren, like any Captain of the Elvish Royal Bodyguard, was superior in swordsmanship to all twenty of the soldiers in her command put together. Like any Captain of the Elvish Royal Bodyguard, she would also happily admit that her swordsmanship came a distant second to Himalataiel‘s. As both Elf women worked their way through the Overlanders, cutting one down with each pass-through, the Overlanders drew firearms and began to fire at the rapidly-moving targets.
Several bullets came in the direction of Corrigwen and Kronisk. As Corrigwen cursed the Overlanders in order to slow down or nullify their fighting abilities, Kronisk moved his hands rapidly, into the paths of every incoming bullet. The bullets, from Corrigwen‘s observation, seemed to simply disappear in front of Kronisk‘s hands. But that was only part of the story. Every so often, Kronisk would use one hand to point at one of the Elves in the melee and speak a word in Dwarvish. When he did this, the Elf he pointed his hand towards would experience a sudden burst of energy. What this energy did, Corrigwen could not tell, but it seemed to enable both Elvish women to fight more effectively.
Once the Overlanders had been cut down to a more manageable number, about ten, Palanagar unceremoniously swopped in and gripped two. One in each of his enormous talons, which locked so tightly around each Overlander that they soon ceased any thought of retaliation.
From there, it was more a matter of using skill to take any further living prisoners rather than kill the enemies still fighting. Although Kronisk, Corrigwen, and Corrigwen‘s Observer remained in a virtually static position, the Overlanders were clearly panicked about the two Elf women who were dancing out of the paths of their bullets.
The panic turned into an incoherent whirlwind of defensive actions as the number of Overlander soldiers fell to less than ten. When only a half-dozen remained, one, a strangely sickly-looking male with bony hands, took a metallic-looking device from a pocket and spoke into it.
Swiftly, a new group of Overlanders, small in number, emerged from the mists to the North. With a sigh of exasperation, Corrigwen turned to face this group, whispering words to her Observer, which began to emit a radiance of dark energy. In Elvish, Kronisk conversed briefly with Orveren and Himalataiel. They would be happily to clean up the remainder of the original group, they assured Kronisk. If he could keep this new group off their back for long enough, they might even be inclined to join the fight.
“Milove, my minion believes these newcomers might be what the Overlanders loosely think of as an elite,” Corrigwen told Kronisk.
As if to confirm Corrigwen‘s report, and thus her Observer’s observations, the four new Overlander agents took cylinder-like objects from their belts. Holding these objects at different angles, the Overlanders waited patiently as shimmering, light-emitting blades emerged from the handles. Gripping her staff and bracing herself, Corrigwen waited to see what pattern of attack these Overlanders would adopt with regard to her. Kronisk, by contrast, took a sword-hilt from his belt. Corrigwen knew what was going to happen, but she watched out of the corner of one eye anyway because she found it fascinating. Pointing the hilt downward at a point just to his right, Kronisk firmly squeezed the grip and spoke in Dwarvish.
From the end of the hilt, a blade of black phantom energy emerged. At different angles, one could see through the blade. The blade itself appeared to be constructed from the fear, hurt, and despair of the stretched, distorted, featureless faces that could sometimes be discerned from within.
Corrigwen knew from fighting numerous battles that she should not be so fascinated by an ally’s weapon. She was, however, deeply comforted by the fact that the enemy was just as taken in by the sight of this blade. If not more so.
It only took a quick exchange of a few swings, thrusts, and parries before Orveren and Himalataiel finished with the remains of the regular footsoldiers and joined this new fray. Although Kronisk found exchanging blows with two or three of these elites to be fairly easy, Corrigwen found she was barely keeping in the fight. Battles of a physical nature were simply not her forte, and although her own powers compensated well for that, the elite who was trying to cut her down seemed to have an answer for every strike. Even her Observer, which was busily weaving energy to hinder the Overlander, could only just keep her in the battle.
It was not that Corrigwen was incompetent or weak in battle. Far from it, in fact. But for reasons she could not understand at present, this battle was going very awkwardly for her. Her curses and bolts of energy that she would not normally use on Kali-Yuga were simply the wrong tactical approach in this context.
In the end, it did not matter. Although she was no closer to winning the duel when Kronisk, Orveren, and Himalataiel had defeated their opponents, the sight of Kronisk putting his infernal blade out in front of the Overlander’s face and asking if they really wanted to continue was welcomed.
Corrigwen did not expect the Overlander to simply surrender. Nor did they. But Kronisk and Himalataiel taking this Overlander’s attention away from her gave her the opportunity to change her approach. The Observer indicated in its own language that it understood as Corrigwen put it away and summoned another minion. Summoning a Felguard, Corrigwen set the towering demonic warrior upon the elite Overlander.
The Overlander was clearly a cut above her peers in combative terms. Although her parries and strikes against Himalataiel were hasty and clumsy, Kronisk and the Felguard found themselves in a similar situation to that Corrigwen had been in earlier.
Corrigwen was about to join the fight when a large raven landed on her shoulder and sang urgently. Corrigwen did not understand the language of these creatures in the way Kronisk did, but she knew that this raven was trying to tell her something important. As the black avian flew to the North, Corrigwen followed, issuing an instruction to her Felguard that she would return shortly. Following the raven about half a kilometre towards the Northern ocean, Corrigwen immediately understood what the raven was trying to tell her. Although the totems and symbology seemed alien, there was some sort of totemic using their powers to enhance the Overlander elite’s fighting abilities.
Corrigwen thought for several seconds. There were many powers she could use to fight this totemic and gain their attention. She could probably kill this totemic completely if she used her powers well. But the more she prosecuted fights on Kali-Yuga, the more she felt that the same powers she used on Azeroth were of limited effectiveness. That was infuriating. She had studied her powers on Azeroth for years, mastering them and their quirks. It was one thing that she had to keep them hidden from the majority of Kali-Yuga’s people in order to not raise too many questions. But that they would prove to be even mildly ineffective on a rare occasion when she could use them was aggravating.
Without realising it, Corrigwen began to focus that aggravation and annoyance upon the totemic, a slightly elderly-looking man who appeared rather small and frail even around his totems. She did not realise how much anger was funnelling through her into this man until he began to convulsively squeal and attempt to pull invisible things away from his own throat.
Without any further pause for reflection, this totemic’s head exploded. One second, the totemic was simply staggering about, trying to refocus his powers. The next, his head burst into a geyser of blood and fleshy lumps that went everywhere, wetting the snow and putting a fine pink mist into the air.
When Corrigwen returned to the battle, wandering South with the raven, it was all over. Two of the Overlander elites, both women, Corrigwen could see now, were kneeling in front of Kronisk and Orveron. Himalataiel was busily rifling through the corpses of other Overlanders, occasionally throwing what appeared to be documents or devices into the snow nearby. The other two Overlander elites, one woman and one man, were dead.
Kronisk said nothing to these Overlanders. As several modified flying machines landed nearby, and Corrigwen put away her Felguard before anyone else could see it too closely, Kronisk issued instructions to Himalataiel and Orveron. Motioning to Corrigwen, he held out a hand, and she held it. The familiar buzz of teleportation as it occurred on Kali-Yuga began, and Corrigwen closed her eyes.
Thus ends the second part of the story. Questions, comments, and suggestions may be directed toward the comments section. I intend to keep links to all chapters at points of each part, but again, any help at all concerning how to get these stories into a format that can be read on an e-reader would be much appreciated. If you have read this far, then thank you.