Illithid behind the Curtain: The Breach; Part 1 (Patreon)

Panic surged over the city of Vale, expanding like a wildfire and urged on by its dark heralds. Such an invasion was rare, the great cities normally all but protected heavily but now? With a pipeline of sorts deep within the heart of the city, it was as if Vale had been bitten by a snake.

Venom, of tooth and claw and bone white masks would spread and tear, fought back desperately by the law enforcements, hunters who had been on holiday and more. And then from the skies, Beacon arrived.

The roar of a minigun tore into the hordes, Coco Adel gritting her teeth as she glared and yelled.

"I. WAS. SHOPPING!"

Her teammates repelled any that came close to her, Fox and Yatsuhashi working in unison like the kickass teammates they were, before she looked around and frowned.

"Did anyone see Velvet?!"

A massive explosion occurred, and Coco raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, there's our bun."

There was a sound of a vehicle, and around the corner charging at the next mass of Grimm was a massive APC. Atlas make, if Coco wasn't mistaken as the driver used their vehicle as a weapon in turn, doing a drift that slammed into the Beowolves before it opened, and the soldiers rushed out.

In unison as a team, they opened fire and the Grimm began to fall. But it was only one encounter out of many. All over the city, Atlas would be conducting swift aide as on the battleship floating over Vale, Ironwood would be commanding his troops.

It was a hot bed of activity, various distress signals and calls sent out as he scowled.

The problem with Urban Warfare with the Grimm, was that all objectives were thrown out the window. It was anarchy on a grand scale, brute force and numbers without fail while they had to watch for a number of other things. Infrastructure, power, water, the civilians... Gods above, the civilians. For every one of his troops, he'd send to defend a particular area, there would be others that slipped through the cracks, as their final cries echoed in the emergency lines they couldn't just turn off.

To his immense pride, the crew persevered. They had a duty and they would see it through the end. And then on the comm, came a growling tone of voice.

"General! This is the Quadling City navy. We're hoping you saved some for us!"

Ironwood smiled, hope rekindled as he spoke back.

"Not at all! Quadling City, thank you for responding!"

"More will be coming. Distress signal has been sent; we were the closest when word came out. Hang in there!"

====

The comm system would be passed down to the communication officer, the knight grabbing his shield as he strode towards his fellows.

Each one of them was likewise garbed as he was, paladins of the rule of Law and Power, of Tooth and Bolt. Sworn to their master, Syxorath and veterans of a thousand battlefields. What did it matter, if the technology and methods changed? War and blood were much the same, the mindset needed instilled in all of them as he slammed his helm on, the faint blue marks on his pauldron indicating his rank. By his side, a beholder floated, grinning broadly as the paladin turned and growled.

"Captain Ralakor. Good hunting."

"This is not hunting." The beholder replied, as the lower spelljammer doors began to open, his kin flying out as he added.

"This is sport."

And with a cackle, he flew out in turn-all of them flying where needed as eye beams gleamed and fired, blasts raking over the hordes. The Grimm turned to meet this new foe, with masses turning to stone, scarred by lightning or purged in other ways.

And the paladin, turning to the other knights spoke.

"DROP! THREE, TWO, ONE!"

And rushing out to planks for this precise purpose, they turned and leaped off the sides and down into the city.

Gauntlets, engraved with runes and precious stones were pointed below at the swarms, as the Lightning Horde showed just how they got that name. Chain Lightning surged from the knights, slamming into the Grimm and cascading, spreading like a storm had approached and was coming for them personally. A variant of wand charges, more fit for armor as the feather fall spells kicked in and all of the knights landed.

The moment they did, they took advantage of shock and awe as they screamed and charged. Blades swung and slammed, shields with spikes for this purpose crushed skulls as the discipline of the paladins turned them into a machine with one purpose.

Before them, an Ursa beyond most sizes roared, throwing cars and three of his men went flying, their space immediately filled as the paladin pointed.

"CONCENTRATED FIRE!"

Lightning surged once more, the Ursa roaring and collapsing as combat medics landed, rushing to help as a square formed and the knights marched. As the paladin smote one of his foes, there was a sudden click and he spun, ready to fight before freezing.

Eyes wide, odd device in hand was a faunus. A rabbit, who seemed garbed as a civilian, but showed no fear and he growled.

"Are you a huntress?"

She nodded.

"Can you still fight?"

She nodded, more determined and the paladin laughed. "Good! Come with us huntress."

More howls echoed, both turning to see a new tide of Grimm rushing for them as the paladin slammed his sword on his shield, his fellows letting out defiant yells.

"COME SEE HOW THE LIGHTNING HORDE WAGES WAR!"

=====

The second spelljammer was more direct, flying towards the source. Down below, the Grimm continued to pour out of the breach and those aboard the ship watched as a hooded figure with a skeletal hand gripped the railing.

Azreal, standing by the side of this person finally spoke. "So many dead... Grandfather."

"I can hear their voices. Cut down, wondering what happened. Wishing to know of their families, their friends and lovers." Came the raspy return before he extended his hand.

A staff appeared, polished black wood and a silver skull on the end as he spoke.

"I am no longer the clan head my child. That task is yours... Command me, as you would our kin."

Azreal took in a deep breath out of habit, turning to the rest of the dead men and women, garbed in similar clothing as all of them produced weapons out of nowhere in support.

"Tonight... Clan Blackstone joins the Hunt."

"And we will not be alone." That was the cue, and the old caster pointed down and magic burst onto the field.

Clan Blackstone was a monstrous story... Hunters of Beasts and Fiends, of things that went bump in the night. Until they were tarnished by the same brush as their quarry, when their kin began to rise as Reborn, when they began turning to other methods in desperation.

The dead rose, ghosts crying out in fury and vengeance, striking against the Grimm as the beasts roared and struck back, far more ineffectually.

And into this mess, the Clan leaped down and struck. Blades and bullet, axes and hammers, men and women and their partners, their weapons reaping a toll among the living dead as monster fought monster, for entirely different reasons.

"The entrance!" Azreal called out as he brought the spirit of his wife back to his hands, her form that of a massive cleaver, the handle held in two hands as a serrated hunk of metal formed the blade.

Four of the clan members in earshot knew immediately what to do, turning and crying out at the same time. "Cloud of Daggers!"

Metal shrieked and sparked, creating a wall of flying metal that didn't slice so much as pulp whatever came through, giving a brief reprieve as they began the bloody work of clearing the square.

Clan Blackstone was on the hunt.

And the Dead followed after.