Between the sand dunes and the high city walls lies a swamp with pnts well nourished from the thick muck. The dank fog appeared as a yellow film under the early light of the sun. Because the ground was just above the level of the river, the water spilled over in streaks, leaving the area continuously soggy. On one side there was a forest of small thin trees with long leaf bushes throughout, while at the edge opposite the walls there was enough high ground to turn this expanse into a sunken pocket, giving way to a simir forest the more one moved away from the grass.

  Trodding from the north were the "kaindit," the town levy, as well armed as their lives were valued - poor, crude weapons on an as-made-avaible basis or self-fabricated, and kitted out with whatever garments they carried from home. Not all were pressed against their will, however, as evident by the more marked and tattooed unsavory elements whose greed and blood lust permeate from their wild eyes and crooked smiles. Spreading out in an unorthodox formation, they scoured the area ahead of them, expecting danger around every mound of mud, every patch of old grass, every pool of tepid water.

  Behind them, the melr armored warriors with archer's sallets, the "mara-mara." Having abandoned the red long shirts, they wear whatever clothing they can, from pin white to rich blues. Their only identification now came from yellow cloth wrapped on their lower arms or their necks. Many of the mara-mara wielded spears, short or medium length, fat broad heads or tick needle shaped. There were also talwar and Mandau patterned swords, rge headed fnged maces, long harpoon javelins, and thick headed triangle axes in their inventory. In all, the frosted blue metal gleamed subtlety under the accumuting fog.

  Creeping through the mud in loose squads composing a checkered formation, their officers, decked with melr helmets peaked with two small horns over the top bulge and fixed with a facial mask of smiling bestial demons with slits only for the nostrils and eyes, signaled their men to expand their coverage as the terrain widened.

  Around their fnks were the "iwi-kwadi" with bows, repeater crossbows, glorified pipe gun weaponry, and exotic projectile weapons that, whatever their sophistication, still resembled bashed engineering between keyed instruments and straight PVC tubes. Whatever their weaponry, they stood out from those they protected - tall, muscle-bound, and vigorously spirited with their leather or scale armor clinging tightly to their torsos, albeit without impeding movement.

  In a ten-man squad came the heavy armored warriors, the "be'ti." Like the ones led by Kaehe'kakoe, they wore pauldrons reaching halfway down their upper arms and their finely crafted golden disc chestptes were over murky colored banded mail. Perhaps their luxurious garments and bright, eborate armor may seem garishly gaudy and have a ck of tonal cohesion, but their owners' pride beamed through their alert, observant faces. Only a few opted for nasal helmets, while the rest

  Rather than spears and gves, their weaponry featured pole maces with rge, bck round heads and studded with so many long sharp needles they resembled a moving patch of evil barrel cacti. They also wielded double-headed tabar pattern axes with jigsaw serrations and long, hunks of rectangle metal the size of a man with a thick, fist guard hilt at the bottom and a section in the middle to hold on to with the other hand. Whether resting on the shoulders or raised at the ready, the frosted crimson metal had the effect of seeming translucent when hit directly under the sun.

  Hanging from their belts were rge scabbards almost touching the mud, with hilts that might as well be carved straight out of a human's spine.

  And in the middle of the be'ti was a ghastly sight.

  Floating above the mud and the grass was a man with puffy bck gi pants and grey moccasin boots. His lean muscur torso was bejeweled with jade color, ivory textured neckces with lunatic designs, and ear cuffs with precious stones of mismatching colors. On his body were two slits, and from there his heart still attached to the veins and his small intestine hung out, held in his hands with his arms stretched. With his face looking on high, his eyes took life of their own, popping out of their sockets and scanning the area of operation as the man floated on forward, with his hair blowing back wildly.

  All the while, he muttered under his breath unpronounceable chants, going from fast to measured at a whim.

  *The enemy is near!~*

  Interpreting the incoherent babble in an oily, vile tone was another one of these strange men, walking nearby with a long staff that widened to a heavy lump at the top and sparked on the surface. Whereas the floating man's sharp face was visible, the one speaking for him was hidden underneath a perfectly fyed man's head skin from the neck up with the blond hair still attached. Whomever the skin belonged to had his pain stricken face preserved from the moment it was pulled out.

  Ahead of the kaindit was an area with a few fern trees whose tops bend down due to heavy green fruits, and the grass gave way to thickets and jagged boulders.

  *Snap* *Snap*

  The iwi-kwadi trained their weapons in the general direction of the sounds, but did not opened fire. Not a shadow on the move, nor a battle cry bellowed..

  *Ahhh!* *Errh!*

  The two weird men writhed with an electrifying shock coursing in their minds. The floating man clenched on his organs so tight his nails almost pierced the tissue, his eyeballs stretched upward to the point of sharp red veins engulfing the white surface. The one with the staff fell to his knees, just barely able to raise his head.

  One of the be'ti left his weapon and went to assist the one on his knees, only able to bring him back up to his feet.

  The iwi-kwadi pressed forward on the fnks with hurry, with some of the mara-mara squads following behind now forced to separate as the thickets impeded moving in formation. The kaindit, paralyzed by the uncertainty of the mysterious spell causing pain to the two men behind were pressed forward by the mara-mara leadership to go forward.

  The rest of the be'ti surrounded the two writhing men, shields raised and primary weapons at the ready. Their beady, alert eyes scanned across their field of vision.

  The greenery did not swayed, there were no suspicious plops across the mud.

  Not even the birds raced onto the sky.

  With much pain but firm determination, the floating man retracted his heart and intestines back into the slits, immediately sealing back as if they had never opened. His eyes returned back into their sockets with the bloodshot state lessening down to a pink hue. His waist long hair fell down, and slowly, he lowered himself back to the ground. The other man supported by the be'ti breathed heavily attempting to recover his composure.

  *Bang* *Bang* *Bang*

  A few of the mara-mara leaders colpsed on the mud, while the kaindit near them had a fast torrent puncture through to their chests with a knocking force. On the left fnk of the formation, those iwi-kwadi with the most queer weapons, those with nonsensical fccid tubing and inexplicable features, never had a chance to put them to use as their faces ruptured with an eyeball or pair of teeth popping out.

  *Attack!* *Attack!*

  Conch shells were blown across the detachments in menacing tones.

  The iwi-kwadi took whatever cover they could and let loose in the general direction of the barely visible fshes, changing direction after a few pops. Bolts and arrows flew onto whatever open spaces there were between the trees, while pipe guns shot their irregur munitions wherever the bushes were greatest. The squads that ventured into the green had no choice but to make their way wherever the ground formed natural trails.

  Zigzagging forward, then to the left, they did their best to surround their slippery attackers. The more the columns advanced, the thinner they became.

  At the front of the formation, those that survived the barraged rushed to push the squads of mara-mara back and end this assault. When the warriors hacked down the more dismayed of the lot and grounded them underneath their boots, the kaindit at st found the courage to slog forward and end their assaint.

  The barking did not end, but now it was the mara-mara receiving the thrashing of bullets. The luckiest had the privilege of bearing shields forged hard enough to withstand direct fire. The others might as well have been dressed down like the kaindit. Spreading even further, what was left of the frontal assault moved step by step.

  The right wing did not wait to be taken by surprise. The mara-mara raced to snuff out anyone in cover, and passing by any potential hiding spot, the warriors whacked and stabbed like madmen.

  They were taken unawares when the Mk 14 opened fire at the cluster of be'ti further back.

  Through a slide to side magnifier, Captain Abraham had his two targets zeroed in before pulling the trigger.

  Before the first bullet even made impact, the long-haired mad quickly raised his left hand in front and his right hand on high, as if about to throw a ball. With one powerful roar, the bullet fttened less than a meter from his head, .

  The man with the fyed head also springed into action, and with his staff, hacked the air in front of him. The three clumsy but calcuted blows came one after another - sideways from the right, left side down to the right, and one vicious upper strike, leaving split bullets in his wake.

  Four of the be'ti moved against Captain Abraham with their shields raised and weapons ready to strike. He continued to empty his magazine at the strange men to no avail, until he saw long, thick spider webs form on top of the long haired man's right hand.

  Immediately, he felt the pressure drop on his blood, running ice cold in his veins.

  As the collection of webs hurled at high velocity in his direction, resembling a stretched out cotton ball, it scrapped a trail on the high ground and leaving a deep gap where it passed by.

  For all his athleticism, the webs were so close from ensnaring him he felt the air pushing him as he jumped away from his firing position. The mass continued flying high in its straight trajectory until, high above where Captain Abraham was, it stretched to the breaking point and cracked into nothingness, leaving a rge cloud of fine, lunar dust.

  The man with the fyed head fixed his staff onto the ground and with his right hand began to conjure up his wicked sorcery from the top of the wooden lump.

  In a fraction of a second, fire engulfed the staff, the man's hands...

  And him and the others around the group danced.