The War Begins...

[The Whitestar Regime]

(We return after a brief period of absense. We decided that it would be best to lay low until we were certain that it was safe for us to be here, for rumours of the Lord of the Land returning had reached our ears, and now that we have revealed ourselves as enemies of Blackstar we fear the repurcussions that this may incur from this realm's former ruler (who we most certainly had not expected to return).

But it seems that he has vanished as suddenly as he appeared, and we feel that it is safe for us to once more return.)

The children blasted by flames stumble, not because of the heat, but because the light, which was perceived by them as being pitch black*, blinded them for an instance. However flames are not a smokescreen, and the 'darkness' is quickly lifted. The dragon's breath does not seem to have caused the children any harm, and most of them continue their charge, but some cast their eyes skywards, gasping as they are met with the intimidating sight of one of the realm's most famous of heroes: Danikat.

All recognize her instantly, riding proudly atop her majestic winged beast, and the people of Dojopolis would probably cheer at the mere sight of her were they not currently under attack.

One child stops as it enters the city, finding itself confronted by Tetsu-ko. It hesitates for a moment, then closes it's eyes as it brings one of it's large spade-like claws down towards the dragon's head. This child seems to be one of the weaker-willed ones, and does not wish to see it's victim at the moment that she is killed.

The rest of us begin our grim task. We have decided to take a systematic approach to this, and we are breaking into buildings and houses one by one, starting with those closest to the city walls. We find no difficulty in this part of our task for many of the structures within the city were not built with defense in mind - that is what the massive walls around Dojopolis' perimeter were for - and unlike the people that we are about to kill, the walls do not scream.

Beyond this though, we all feel uneasy. There is nothing physically challenging about our task, for many of the civilians are not armed and are in a state of panic, but none of us have ever killed before, and to take a life that you feel that you have known for as long as you've existed... It is a nightmarish experience that breaks many children, and as the first innocents are killed many of us feel that it would be impossible to raise our heavy spades against a second.

However, we have made it so that we would have no choice. In declaring war, in making ourselves known as an enemy intent on wiping out all life on Blackstar, we have deliberately encouraged others to attack us as we advance, and so killing suddenly becomes a necessity for we children who are willing to commit the most terrible sins for our fear of death.

(* Please consult the information that we have left for you all in the Hall of Records for further details.)

[Cirrial]

Aurichalcite desperately throws several small insectoid machines out into the skies, little more than cameras with propellers, as its drones perched on the taller buildings struggle to ascertain the condition of the city.

They're through the walls. They tore through them like paper. What chances does my complex have of surviving a direct assault with such skilled diggers?

It guides the six crab-machines, lumbering with the weight of boulders, towards the oncoming tide of children, aiming to crush and maim them blindly. Such clumsy, heavy machines were only meant for precision in industrial work, while static. As weapons of war, they would be far cruder in their deployment.

"Unity to CSS. Request information on zones of city most affected by children invasion. Able to dispatch subterranean devices to these zones."

It begins assembling a few squads of untested devices it had hoped never to rely on, let alone in such number. The robotic arms move the devices around in a dormant state, in which they resemble long tapered drills. As a test, Aurichalcite activates one.

It unfolds into a tripedal machine, its three legs each with three joints and tapering to points, attached to a cylindrical torso. It looks easy enough to break its legs, let alone tip it over with a gentle shove. However, on the top of the central cylinder are a mounted camera, and some sort of thin tapering cone.

The sole active machine points the tapering cone at a redundant bulkhead in the assembly room, and a loud flash and bang instantaneously appear at the bulkhead. After a few minutes, the bulkhead snaps into three pieces and collapses to the floor.

It seems the weapons work. How I wish this situation never arose.

Altogether, twelve of these machines exist, the first and hopefully last of their kind. Aurichalcite waits tensely for a response from the CSS, as it activates the other eleven, marching them in formation to its typical dispatch point, a door leading to nothing more than a wall of soil and rock.