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The ground seared with flame and light of ethereal, unreal shade, and whorled into the creature, from which the Nauk officer swore he could hear the same rumbling voice, in an unknown language, speaking, commanding, single syllables in a chain, an incantation perhaps, though not one heard with ears. The flames then out in front of it. Splitterschwert shielded his eyes from a blue sun that flashed for a moment, then raced forward. He did not look to see where it hit, or what the damage was- the woods were near, and the potential of any escape from all of this.
Vilgerson’s platoon had gone ahead- the radios had failed somehow, and he couldn’t be heard, but judging from the fact that where he had been located, there were now Living Stones, extremely agitated ones, though no sign of any bodies or half-eaten trucks. That meant that there might not be anything in the way of fleeing…
Flee he would have to, soon, as the Living Stones spun in place at the noise of his tank- and whatever was stuck on his hull hadn’t gotten any less angry about the matter, either.
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>Turn is Open