[Mac Sirloin]

Chapter 1

For every abandoned house, business and vehicle, there was blood. Everywhere, no bodies, no survivors, no corpses of any kind, just blood.
They came in monoliths, enormous rectangular ships, vertically planting themselves for whatever purpose they needed. They were the size of entire city blocks, each one without distinction from the last, each epitomized by the sense of dread and hrror that they seemed to emit.

They landed in random locations, some colliding with others as they descended, in fact, they damaged each other more than any military force could even dream of doing.
Some jutted out of large buildings, like some colossal outgrowth, others would land in the countryside, standing as monuments of the impending hell.

Mudos was the only continent attacked at first, so Queen Margaret was moved to another, assumedly safer location.
Some Mudokons said that it was the reckoning of the Industrial races, that no Glukkon, Slig, Vykker, Chronicler, Intern, Oktigi or Wolvark would be spared.
This was a half-truth.
Because, though they were the first attacked, it was only to buckle any chance of rebellion, the natives wouldn't require any effort in extinguishing their presence.

But they did not chance that the Natives would flee at the first sign of offensive tactics, so they ecaped.
In 6 days from then every one of the ships were gone.
No one saw them leave, nobody saw anything, anyone who survived had fled to a 600 mile distance from any monoliths they saw.

Those of the industrial races that survived completely ignored the whole thing, effectively making a comeback in full force.
In 7 weeks all damage had been repared, the Slaves re-captured and Margaret returning to her seat of Command once again.

However, this was only in Southern Mudos, as the north was still seemingly under the control of a single monolith. One that had landed in a mountain side, and been struck by two others, and apparently, was stranded.

Glukkons did not dare send any forces to it, part of their plan not to acknowledge it and out of a deep-seated fear that it may trigger another attack.
I was an Outlaw Prospector, reformed, working independantly on finding unclaimed land and selling the rights to Industrialists, retrieving a hefty profit in the process.

I had been at home ( a Tent set up near the Scrabania/Paramonia Border) when the to be broken Monolith struck a mountain not 60 kilometres away.
Miraculously, I was not found, but was the only one who remained near one of the monstrosities during the ten day attack.

When I found myself in a city, I recounted the appearance of the thing to some soldier boys in an old Tavern. They weren't true rectangles, as the tip sticking out of whatever surface was pointed on one side, like someone had diagnally cut the top off of it.
Somehow this found its way to a sleazy reporter named Drood Cerf, a freelance Intern-cum-photojournalist. He offered me three-thousand moolah to bring him to it, I told him that this story would make him too rich for his oown good, and technically, its my property.

You see, I had just purchased the entirety of of a thought-unclaimable circly of territory from the Glukkon who owned it, for cheap price, as he didn't want property with an enormous death machine within it.

Regardless, Drood refused to offer me more, so I told him I woudln't take him. Qccording to his obituary, he had left to find it himself when he got attacked by a sleg pack on Paramonias forest floor.
When I read the rather small article regarding this in the daily decpetion, I fell on the floor laughing.
'Stupid bastard' I kept saying 'Stupid, arrogant bastard'.
This incident put me on the block however, as many people claimed I'd advised him to go there, but I shook such remarks off, I had better things to do.

I decided to explore the territory more, as any money I had would be left to an old friend, I didn't worry.

Next Chapter: The traps