Yeah sorry for the delay, you know me, busy busy lazy lazy. You guys know the drill. This chapter is a love-it/hate-it situation, depending on your views of the game I’m introducing a crossover for, my other favorite online game… more about that later. So, without any further ado, chapter seven.

—
Riella wiped at her eyes again, and picked up Blast’s wizard wand, that wasn’t good, it hadn’t made it into the portal with him, and he would no doubt be missing it. His rucksack was there too, could he even survive without any items or magic? Magicians never were the roughin’ it types. Slipping the wand and her communicator back in a pocket, under plates of armor, Riella bottled up her woes to stand and turn to face the soft footsteps on the plastic behind her, who she saw was far from anybody she would’ve guessed. The bandit stopped walking a good ten paces away from her, to return his dagger to a large sheath at his waist and regard her carefully. She didn’t give him any longer than that.
“Shard!” she roared, rushing in, “your guild is responsible for this!” she growled, slashing out at him with her Traus. The bandit had his dagger out again in a flash, blocking her blow with the hilt of the blade, and stepping back out of reach.
“Hang on, I-” he tried to begin, but she lunged at him again.
“You’ll pay for my friends and your crimes!” she raged, slashing and thrusting forward as he dodged back, to the side, again and again, but to no avail, he was too fast.
“Can I get a word in here, I just-” Riella had jumped back to grab a weapon of greater range, and Shard stepped back as she hefted the Red Sign for a swing.
“Hey, hang on! Put me down!” it protested, as she swung it off her shoulder with force, the bandit ducking, then jumping, then darksighting to avoid beheadment. Appearing beside her to wrench the unhappy sign from her hands, and slam it down upright beside him, he raised his dagger again to hold her sword back from his face.

“Enough of that. We need to talk.” he said gruffly, and she reluctantly put up her blade. He sheathed his own as well, and continued, talking over the angry buzz of the Red Sign behind him. “You all did quite a number on my… guild…” he said carefully, Riella tensed at the mention of the DarkStriders, “and Alishar for that matter, so I have a proposition for you. I was never all for the boss’ world domination plans, personally, I think he’s a deranged nut. I only joined them for awhile because I needed the cash, and they provide free equipment to valued members.” Riella frowned at him.
“So you’re just a turncoat? And you want to join us now?”
“Not so much join you, as make it known I’m no longer a necessary enemy.” he plucked the guild tag from his shadow set, and waving a hand, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. “I can get even with my opponents among that lot far more easily if you don’t all get in my way as well.”
“Okay,” Riella agreed, “fair enough, but what’s in it for us?” she said, more coldly.
“You just lost that pesky magician to a dimensional rift it appears. If you’re planning on getting him back, you’ll need another dimensional disruptor.” Riella she stepped, forward attentive now.
“Well, do you have one?”
“No, but my old guildmates do, and you’ll need my help to get it.”

—
Whirling around to face the voice behind him, Blast promptly got dizzy and fell over, landing with a soft “wump!” in the spongy red grass.
“You asked where you are?” it said, “I presume that warrants an answer, no?”
“First and foremost,” Blast started, “you need to cover the basics. Like what exactly you are, for starters.” The creature in front of him seemed mechanical of origin, resembling something like those toy-horse-on-a-stick novelties sold to small children, though minus the stick and done up in gleaming orange metal. This did indeed seem to be some form of transportation, judging by the small standing platform and handles mounted on its back, but why it was talking, and looking, YES LOOKING at him, was beyond Blast.
“I am L-563 rev4.” it said with a mechanical whir, “Industrial strength evacuative mobile lift. You, good sir, can simply call me, or any of my kind, ‘Lift’.”
“Lift? Does that mean you can fly then?” Blast asked.

“Oh yes of course, that’s my purpose! I fly jockeys out of lost battles.”
“Jockeys? What kind of battles?” Blast frowned. “Okay, just tell me where I am.”
“Well, hop on, I’ll show you.” Lift said, and with a hiss of hydraulic steam floated off the ground, turning his handles and platform to let a somewhat disgruntled BlastMage climb aboard. “Okay, now hold on tight!” it said, and blasted into the air.
“Whao! Hold up there!” BlastMage said, jostled and made dizzy as the ground dropped away below. Regardless of impending vertigo, the view was stupendous; apparently they were above a huge landmass, not a floating island like Victoria, but solid matter in all directions, extending to the horizon as far as the eye could see. To the north, mists floated about high cold mountains, and to the west was sparkling seas. Just below them, and further north, smoke curled around a smoldering peak, and to their east the tops of buildings in a great city could be seen in the distance.

“Welcome, traveler, to Londe. We’re known for our beautiful parabolic landscapes, and the hilter-skilter orbits of our eight beautiful moons.” BlastMage looked above to see one such moon, a brilliant orange orb hanging in the sky above. “We have solar and lunar eclipses on a regular basis, as a result of such orbits, and each moon is known for an odd weather condition it creates on the ground below.
“Interesting, this place is HUGE! How did you find me here?” Blast said, dazed by his surroundings.
“This will sound odd, but I was off duty outside the Meta Mines,” the Lift said, pointing itself toward the churning factory below, “and I saw you fall from the sky! I myself was baffled to find you alive!”
“Hmm, lucky I still had my magic guard on… hey!” Blast frantically patted hands about his tattered garments, “My wand! Where’s my wand!”

“Oh, did you lose something?” the lift said idly. “If it’s not on your person, I doubt it’s with you at all, I didn’t see anything on the ground where I picked you up.”
“Damn! My rucksack too. I don’t have anything on me! I can’t cast attack spells now!”
“Magic?” the Lift inquired, “You mean like attack magic? We haven’t had any use for that since the ancient wars! Londe is at peace magician, you have no need of your magic here. What may I call you anyway?”
“I’m BlastMage,” he said hurriedly, “but you mentioned battles. Won’t I need my wand then?”
“Oh, that’s no concern for you. I was talking about Gunbound battles. It’s our global sport! The most popular profession in our world is thrill seeking as a Gunbound jockey!”
“Gunbound? That’s odd, I’ve never heard of it…” Blast said, not much relieved.
“Haven’t heard of Gunbound? Where are you from Blast?”
“I came from Maple Island, I’m a Broan. Haven’t you ever heard of Broa?” Blast said, confused now.
“No, I can’t say I have… is that a planet? Broa… you should ask our astronomer when we get back to the Metropolis.”
“Okay… so how does Gunbound work?” BlastMage said, as Lift sped off in the direction of the city he had spotted before.

—
CrossSlash flicked off his comm. to look over Grendel and Leul again. The wizards waited on him to speak, and he pocketed the device, frowning.
“Well, you heard her, we’re too late!” he said irately, “What do you recommend we do? Blast could be anywhere!” Grendel thumbed his mustache with a wrinkled old hand, and answered thoughtfully.
“This is bad news indeed. The spell to follow him is not too difficult, but there are complications.” he answered.
“Well, will you tell me then?” Cross demanded.
“Calm yourself thief, haste will get us nowhere in this. Complications, first of all we need to get a dimensional disruptor. These are tools of dark magic, and I was unaware there were any left in the world.” the wizard paused to tug at his mustache again, “The only one we do know of is with Erik, and he’s probably in the DarkStriders base. Additionally, once we do successfully prepare the necessary spells to open a portal to wherever our friend BlastMage ended up, it’s only a thirty percent chance it’ll even work, and when it does, it will open randomly on whatever planet the portal targets. Finally, we don’t know if this place we’re opening a hole to even has breathable air, or substantial living conditions.” Cross was furious,
“Well we have to TRY at least! Tell me what I have to do!” the thief smoldered.
“Alright. The first thing to do is contact a member scroll maker’s guild. The nearest one here El Moth, a craftsman in the forest south of here. He’s up the ‘Tree that Grew’ as the fairies call it. You’ll need his help to craft teleport scrolls to the DarkStriders base, he can probably reconstitute some of the charred scrolls the DarkStriders keep leaving behind for you.”
“Well,” Cross said, turning it Leul, “you heard the man, let’s get going!”

—
Riella jumped down to the platform below to sneer at the monster responsible for this mess. Alishar, another great beast, sealed away from the world in the wars of chaos, freed again by the XDarkStriders, and now to be sealed again. She lifted Grendel’s medallion from her undershirt and took it off. Holding it above her head, it slowly floated into the air. Alishar’s hulking fallen form shimmered slowly at first, then faster, and then vanished altogether.
“Two down, one to go.” she said, more to herself than anyone else, and flicked on her comm, buzzing in her pocket. “Riella here.”
“Yeah, Riella, it’s a bit complicated, but I think we can get BlastMage back. Can you come to Victoria?”
“Sure thing, where do you want to meet?”

—
“It’s a free roaming battle sport, simple really.” Lift began, “There are specially prepared courses all over Londe, Gunbound jockeys travel around in mobile battle units, old war machines adapted for sport. Any jockey can challenge any other jockey in battle, and they alternate firing strategic trajectory shots until one mobile is destroyed.” Lift told him.
“That sounds dangerous; you said this is a sport?”
“No it’s not dangerous at all, that’s wh-” Lift was interrupted by explosions below, the sky went dark, and a huge red missile flew in a high arc through the air. Lift dodged it easily, and it went on to hit its intended target below, a orange tank-like unit, with huge wheels and a front mounted cannon, on its back was a man in an odd feathered hat, frantically punching buttons to get out of the way. But, no good, the missile crashed down, and his machine was out of commission, severely damaged by the resulting explosion.
“Are these the mobiles you told me about, Lift?” Blast said, watching the opposing pilot, in a stout red tank cheering his victory.
“Yes, now watch this, the man in the orange mobile, a Kalisddon has been defeated. It’s totally safe because he’ll be airlifted out by an L-563 like myself.” Indeed, another Lift emerged from the wreckage, and as Blast and his Lift flew by overhead, the man exited safely, though cursing his fallen machine.
“Stupid Kalis! I knew you never could aim!” the angry pilot said, speeding off. “I’m ditching you this time! We’re finished!”
“Hey, hang on Lift,” Blast said, rapping on the back of its head. “is that mobile alive too, like you? Why’s that guy just ditching it like that?” he questioned, concerned.
“Well, it is a shame Blast, but it’s not always economical to repair a fallen mobile. Sometimes, it’s just more efficient to abandon them; they’ll be recovered by scrap bots later.”
“Well that isn’t right! Get me down there, I think I can help!” Blast growled.
“Oh, I doubt it, but we might as well…” the Lift said, descending.

“Hey, what’s up? You’re a Kalisddon right?” Blast said, approaching the charred and smoking metal beast. “C’mon, I know you aren’t dead yet!” The creature groaned and one metallic eye flicked open.
“I’m finished. Leave me here for the scrap yard. My pilot did.” it groaned, a voice like well oiled metal joints, but weak now.
“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Blast said, laying a hand on the dirty metal. “Maybe I can do something to help.”
“C’mon Blast,” the Lift said, turning away, “don’t give him false hopes.”
“Don’t worry about it, I got this.” BlastMage said, and was surrounded by warm green light.
“Ooh,” the Kalis said, opening its other eye and perking up, “that’s good stuff, better than repair packs. A lot better!” Gleaming brightly and well repaired now, the Kalisddon stood up. “Good Huboeian build like me, we don’t go down easy! I knew I’d be fine, didn’t doubt it for a second!”

“Remarkable!” Lift said, “How did you do that?”
“Magic user, remember Lift?” Blast responded smugly. “Hey Kal, you said your pilot ditched you, does that mean you need a new one?”
“Well, yeah,” it said, shifting uncomfortably, “but if you’re new to this… you heard that guy, I can’t aim.” frowning, the Kalisddon wasn’t proud of itself now. The L-563 turned to look at the Kalis with a metallic whir.
“You are K-B373224sv3, high angle mobile for experienced pilots, capable of massive damage and/or huge area of effect.” it said mechanically, analyzing, “You are now fully operational and entirely capable of aiming. If your pilot said otherwise, he was either ignorant or a moron.” BlastMage, a little startled by the L-563’s sudden well informed nature, turned to the Kalis to agree with it,
“Y’hear that Kal? You can aim, I just gotta aim high.”
“Well, I guess so.” the Kalis concluded as BlastMage scrambled up to sit on its back. “Let’s get back to metropolis then!”
“NOT SO FAST!” a voice said, not so far off as Blast might have liked. “I just finished off that mobile! And whatever you did to bring him back, he’s still my kill!” It was the Kal’s previous opponent! The Lift whirred again.
“Prepare yourself Blast!” it advised, “This looks like your first battle!”