"Looks like she grabbed those two just in time, she's on her way back and the horde is about to intercept the raiders!" I said excitedly. After my rampage about popcorn, Fang guided me in projecting what I'm seeing outwards. So now him and I are watching the Quartzpions stalk over the raiders, waiting for the Stone Worms to make their move before striking down.

"I do not envy the meat bags," Edge says as he sits next to me.

"Their frames are too weak to handle what is to come," Azure says while leaning back on his hands next to Fang.

Gotta admit, when these two aren't actively trying to bash the others skull in, they get along pretty well. Agreeing on most things really and have a similar viewpoints with only different takes on how to approach things. More akin to brothers, I think they just try to kill each other on principle of being opposites.

"Shut up you two, the Worms are about to make their move, I can feel it."

"Well, no kidding you moron. They're literally digging through a part of you, of course you'd feel it!" Fang complains. What a whiner.

"I said shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"You did n-"

"SHHHHHHHHH!" Glaring at me, his crimson eyes began to glow slightly, but he remained silent. Which is all I cared about, ooooo glowing eyes! SO SCARY! I could literally order Edge to beat you to a pulp if I wanted to and he would without questioning me. Now that's scary.

Crossing his arms, he looks away from me with sass in his movements, but he forgot to keep his bad attitude once the ambush happened.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"C'mon Skag, move your fatass! I want in on some of the action too!"

"Fuck off Mule, just stay in the back and make sure you hand out ammo when we need it. You're Mule anyways because you can't hit shit, so it don't matter if there's any action or not. Not for you anyways, ha ha!" The big brute bastard laughed, like it was the funniest shit he ever heard.

Well let's see if a bullet to the head is funny, see who's laughing now, eh? No one's gonna miss your fatass and with all the guns goin off they ain't gonna notice one more dead raider. This way at least, I'll be that much closer up front. Where I can make a name for myself. Yeah, that sounds good.

Looking left and right to make sure no one's looking in my direction, I pull out a vintage pistol. They used to have these suckers layin around all the time, but ever since them damn Ooglians and their damn mercs cracking down on arms dealers, we been strugglin real hard to find any still working after these last ten years er so. Anywho, no one was payin any damn attention to us so I aimed for the back of Skags head and pulled the trigger.

Shit, another dud pistol. At least I know now instead of later when more of them mercs come lookin for their lost rangers. Oh yeah, their little desert monkeys are lost alright. Lost in a storm of bullets, that's for damn sure.

"It's got my leg! Get it off! Get it-ahh!"

"What the hell are these things!" The intensity of guns firing went up a couple of notches and the others were aimin at something on the ground. Panicking, I checked the ground around me prayin there weren't no snakes. Give me the sands anyday over any damn jungle, let the tree humpers keep their leaves and their snakes. I fuckin hate snakes.

"They're comin out of the ground!"

"Shit, Billy's down!" More rifles and pistols going off made me second guess my current standing in life. The crush of bodies ahead made it difficult to see, but once I started seeing Big Bobby screamin like a gutted dune lizard, my legs started doin the thinking for me. Taking small steps back, I just watched as I could finally see what the hell was goin on. Fuckin snakes, or at least something that looked like em would spring out of the ground itself and take chunks out of our boys or wrap around their legs, tripping and crushing bones.

Bullets bounced off their hides like they were made of stone, but there ain't no...

"Boys! It's a godsdamned Dungeon! Fuck this, I'm out!" Screaming, I finally gave my legs the approval and started sprinting down the hallway back the way we came. From the sound of it, I wasn't alone either in my tactical retreat. Looking back, I saw about five more raiders following suit. Though the numbers kept droppin as heavy ass lookin purple rock scoripions dropped hard, crushing those they landed on or intercepting others who thought my idea was the better one.

Better them then me, I don't feel one bit sad about losin a few comrades. We only got one rule in the dunes, those who survive don't die. Kinda stupid, but what it boils down to is you only got yourself to look forward to take care of. The screams behind me started getting closer and the last raider behind me had his chest pierced by a huge ass stinger, coating my face in blood and raider meat.

Raider meat don't taste nearly as good as Ooglian meat, that's for damn sure. Shitting my pants from the effort, my legs blurred beneath me as I passed through empty rooms and barren hallways, reaching the entrance at a speed that would make a dragonfly blush. Tripping over the sand, I landed face first and my momentum spun me over and over agian down the hill. All the while my shit stained pants were smearing my ass with every impact. Those who survive don't die.

Finally, I stopped rollin heads over ass down the slope and stared up at the entrance. The mouth of a cave opened up on the side of Sussie, a big smokie of a mountain without any of the lava. And in that mouth a series of pissed off lookin scorpions were pincing their claws down in my direction.

"That's right, screw you! You fucked up little monsters can go straight to hell!" I yelled defiantly. Minutes passed by and still they sat there, flexing their claws and stabbing at what they probably hoped was me, but I was safe. I stared at the sky and laughed, my shit stained pants not bothering me one bit, because I survived. And survivors don't-

The sound of a high-powered sniper rolled across the sands followed by the thunk of a .308 doing the lords work in making sure a certain raider scums head exploded. Spitting to the side, Jeffe tilt his worn leather hat upwards and stared up at the soot colored sky.

"Good ridance, one less raider." Scratching his large untamed beard, he stood from his dune a half mile away and shouldered his rifle as he started making his way down towards the dead raider. It was a bit of a long walk to the smokies, a series of semi-active volcanoes that spat black smog in the air for the past hundred years or so. At least that's what them scholars at the academy say. Jeffe wouldn't know though, he's been a ranger for most of his life and never bothered with the frilly bullshit they teach for the well endowed and their children. Can't use a scale to fry a raider from over a mile away or use the current value of money to beat the shit out of a roaming Sand King. All the education he needed was taught in the Dungeon and the Dunes.

Gods bless em both, make a real man out of you, that's for sure. Crossing over to where the headless raider laid, Jeffe stopped when he smelt a foul smell in the air coming from that direction. Jeffe hated when the dead crapped themselves. Sighing in resignation, he climbed the dune to where he was upwind and stood before the Cave opening.

Correction, Dungeon entrance. Smiling to himself, Jeffe pulled out a long, well wrapped cigar that he had been saving for just such an occasion. It's not every day you find yourself a new Dungeon to get some good ol' education. All he had to do was wait for two wounded rangers to come hobbling out so the three of them could make their report back in Oogla. As the kids like to say it these days,

"For Blood, For Glory," the wind carried his words and cigar ash to no one in particular, but in the shadows of the Dungeon entrance, another entity watched and he was listening. His red eyes glowed softly at the said words. Oh yes, he was listening. A hunter is always listening.