Kambyon the Kruel #3 “The Enemy of My Enemy…”


Its GODS GONE WILD!

The population of the GolGotham Spaceport scattered like roaches as the two deities fought it out on the streets of their supposed worshippers.

“This day is your last, Kambyon!!” Steppenstoat shouted at the lumbering goliath smashing his way through an Apocalyspian cargo bus, “And it comes by my hand!”

Kambyon’s ready reply was cut off when an Ermines of Destruction latched its jaws onto his calf. As he reached back to pry the giant mustelid free two more pounced, one clamping down on his wrist, the second using its foreclaws in an attempt to knock gouge out his eyes. Kambyon gave a grunt and clubbed the attacker insensate with the body of its brother still attached to his arm before stomping on the beast with a well worn hoof. The creature wriggled away and then doubled back, teeth flashing. Now Kambyon had two ermines fastened to his haunches, both struggling mightily to try and drag him down.

“Steppenstoat, you ridiculous ass, The Ebon Winger will NOT come for me today! However, if you don’t call off your pets, I cannot say the same will be true for YOU!” Kambyon vowed as he limped towards his great uncle.

The old templar aimed the point of his Galactic Glaive and fired a burst of Cosmic Force. The energy was powerful enough to embed Kambyon into the wall behind him, which stung, but did solve the dilemma of the harrying stoats with a pleasing crunch.

***

Unfortunately, some problems were too big to solve with a Primal Weapon left over from the Infinite Underworld Invasion, as Commerczar Bain was now discovering.

“Control, I repeat, I have two Omega class combatants on the main Economic Concourse. Requesting all available units to aid in subdual!” the man in administrative robes spoke into his comm. set.

“Request denied, Commerczar. We will not engage either combatant until given order to by the proper authority.”

“But, but- it’s General Steppenstoat!” Bain protested, “Your leader!”

The voice at the other end countered, “And he is fighting the sole scion of Dark Thugos, our true leader. And yours too, Grovelly. You should have remembered that before attempting to interfere in the relations of the Royal Family.”

“Yes, but, but-“ the communication was cut before Commerczar Bain could protest the military officer’s blatant neglect. Not that he would have done anything different if positions were reversed. On Apocalyspe, not taking sides among the Oligarchs unless one absolutely had to was just smart politics. Unfortunately for this bureaucrat, he was the man on the spot, and decisions had to be made, “Scat! Scaredemon, secure the prisoner. Then establish a security cordon starting at the Jungu Kahn Monument.”

Bain turned to make sure the automaton was complying, only to find the creature down, a sonic stiletto quivering in its forehead.

The prisoner was gone.

***

Captain Shel-Drar of the Caravel Class Transport Bhukaza scrambled on top of a piece of fallen stonework to get a better view of his surroundings. The higher ground didn’t provide much perspective.

Chaos reigned in the GolGotham Spaceport. People ran in every direction. Some charged into buildings thinking they were safe, only to flee those when Steppenstoat, or one of his giant carnivores, or the even more giant creature the Skree warrior did not recognize damaged it. Most wheeled traffic was stalled, though an occasional aero-bike or hover taxi careened by, Grovellies or visitors to Apocalyspe clinging to their sides in hopes of escaping the tumult. Then there were the sounds of cannon fire, shooting not at those fighting on the ground, but at the ships attempting to launch from the Spaceport without authorization, something the defense forces of the planet would not allow. The skies over the city were etched with the criss cross patterns of laser fire, plasma torpedoes, and bore missiles, and occasionally lit up when one of these weapons struck home, turning a fleeing vessel into a fiery blossom of death and futility.

Shel-Drar checked to make sure the Bhukaza was not one of these, “Captain to comms: status report,” he spoke into his recovered head set.

“Captain! You’re alive!” Ensign Xor-Nal said hurriedly, “We were just about to-“

“Belay that,” Shel-Drar cut him off as he slid down from the rubble he had been standing on and weaving his way through a crack in the wall of one of the spaceport’s custom’s office, “Do not leave the ship. Do not launch the ship. Remain at your posts until I arrive.”

“And then what, sir?”

The captain shut his communicator down rather than reply. No sense getting ahead of himself.

***

The building Shel-Drar picked his way through was still standing, though not by much. The Skree warrior searched his memory to recall where exactly he would come out if he walked straight across, and if that put him closer or further away from his ship.

Then the building shook. Then again. Then the wall to Shel-Drar’s left exploded inward, spraying the room with chunks of granite.

A piece of debris slammed into Shel-Drar’s midsection, causing two of ribs to shatter despite even his protective uniform. He fell to the ground and clutched his side with one arm while instinctively put the other over his head as it sounded like the entire structure was going to collapse on him.

“RRAAARRRGGHHH!” Kambyon bellowed as he backed into the room. Steppenstoat had scored several hits with the Galactic Glaive, turning the giant’s torso into a mess of blood and matted hair. The wily cavalier had been forced to dismount when he had followed Kambyon into the building, but he was showing remarkable precision wielding his signature weapon, dancing forward to strike and parrying the larger god’s counters with his blade.

Finally, an opening. The general stumbled on a piece of fallen stonework, and was forced tow lower his Glaive to maintain balance. Kambyon lunged forward and seized his uncle by the topknot. With several snaps of his wrist Kambyon smashed Steppenstoat to the ground. Then he picked up the old god’s halberd, and ignoring the painful feedback, drove the tip of the blade into his breastplate. Steppenstoat screamed obscenities for several moments and then lay still, alive but powerless (which, for a warrior like himself, was a far worse fate).

Kambyon realized he was not alone. He tossed aside the block of masonry Shel-Drar was using for cover and sized him up.

“Alien,” he said in a voice so deep and powerful Shel-Drar felt his teeth rattle, “Do you have transport off this planet?”

“Whu- what?”

“Do you have access to a ship?” the monster rephrased with surprising patience.

“Yes, but why-?”

“I need passage off Apocalyspe, and since the Oligarchs are not interested in providing that they have forced me to seek a more common method of travel,” Kambyon replied, “You will take me to your craft so that we may leave.”

Shel-Drar grew even more perplexed. Who was this beast, and why did he demand his help? The smuggler had taken enough risks bringing the seditious propaganda to the Terror Planet, now the prospect of aiding a fugitive escape it loomed, “We… we can’t leave. No one can. The defense forces are blasting everything trying to take off.”

This was true. Kambyon thought for a moment, then formed a plan, “Go to your ship and wait. I will join you after destroying the Spaceport’s Central Power Core. That will shut down the weapons systems and allow us to depart.”

The giant stooped down so that he was at eye level with Shel-Drar, then he inhaled deeply, “I know your scent now, alien, and can track you across the cosmos if needed,” he smiled, “So do not attempt to leave without me aboard, understood?”

Shel-Drar saw his own panicked face in the reflection of the monster’s teeth. He nodded once, and stumbled for the exit.

Kambyon went his own way to procure his independence.

***

Dark Thugos dismounted from his Apocalyspian War Hound and surveyed the damage his son and uncle had done to GolGotham’s Spaceport. Row after row of buildings lay in ruins leveled, and thousands of Grovelly casualties lined the streets. A huge smoldering crater appeared where the port’s main generator once rested. Thugos paused to offer closer scrutiny to the shattered remnants of the statue honoring his own father.

“Preteritus est extraho,” he said wryly before turning to speak to his companion, “So did my son escape?”

Kwatrain, Thugos’ personal assassin and chief spymaster nodded, “Indeed. For the moment we’re not sure which departing vessel he made his getaway on, though that information will not be hard to determine once we launch the fleet,” the man in the piebald doublet and jerkin then offered, “If that is what you wish, sire.”

“Let the mongrel enjoy his freedom for now. He will soon find the condition less satisfying than it first appears,” Thugos observed.

“Very good, sire. “

Dark Thugos clasped his hands behind his back and looked upward, “It is not as if we don’t know where Kambyon plans to go anyway. He will seek out his artifacts, then his mother, and then the method by which to destroy me and assume my throne. No one, man or god, can escape destiny, Kwatrain.”

“Yes, sire.”

The lord of Apocalyspe turned on his heel and walked back towards his mount, “Still, that doesn’t mean we have to make it easy for him, does it?”

“No, sire,” Kwatrain agreed. In fact, he had just the means of making the caitiff’s life difficult. Means so flawless he had already sent them on their way with their orders, without his master’s approval.

It would not be long before Kambyon would become acquainted with the Sisters Sanguine.




Next: Kambyon comes calling on the Lair Legion. The bad news for him is that they are not home. The worse news for the Support Staff is that they are. “The Wolf at the Door”, out sometime.

Footnotes:

Ebon Winger: The personification of Death for the Newer Gods, this being comes to claim the immortal souls of those who have breathed their last. No one, not even Dark Thugos himself, knows where the Winger takes the spirits he has captured. The Ebon Winger is silent, implacable, dresses entirely in black and looks like Maurice Richard.

Jungu Khan: The father of Dark Thugos and previous ruler of Apocalyspe. He was slain epochs ago in one of the many battles against the rival planet of Newer Eden.

Kwatrain don’t let the Ren Fest Wear fool you, this Machiavellian assassin type is a dangerous adversary. He is perhaps Thugos’ most competent and trusted minon, and a superb gatherer of intelligence, having spies everywhere throughout Apocalyspe and the galaxy.