Corporal Nathan Cole's Log, Supplemental
Discovery Marine detachment recording
30 days after Rothgard's Fall
Checkpoints hold.
Refugees run.
Dragons hunt.
The afternoon sun beat down on the southern road out of Roth Vale, turning the freshly graded earth into a pale ribbon that cut through the rolling foothills. Corporal Nathan Cole stood in the shadow of a reinforced barricade, his matte-gray powered armor humming faintly as it regulated temperature against the rising heat. Beside him, Private First Class Lena Torres kept her EM rifle resting across her chest plate, visor down, while Lance Corporal Jax Harlan scanned the southern horizon through the magnified overlay in his helmet. The three Marines formed the forward watch at the checkpoint, a simple but sturdy line of portable barriers and sensor pylons that marked the edge of the guarded corridor leading northwest toward Shire Base.
A low rumble of voices reached them first. Then the crowd appeared—dozens of refugees spilling over the crest of the next ridge, a ragged wave of humans, elves, dwarves, and a scattering of beastkin. Their feet kicked up dust as they ran, some carrying children, others dragging makeshift sleds of belongings. Smoke smudged the sky behind them, thick and black, rising from what could only be burning villages or supply wagons farther south. Cole keyed his throat mic. "Checkpoint Six to Discovery Actual. We have a large group of civilians inbound, panicked. Visual on smoke column to the south. Request sitrep."
The reply came almost immediately, the calm voice of the watch officer aboard Discovery cutting through the comm. "Discovery Actual to Checkpoint Six. Be advised—forward elements of the Draco Imperia Army, approximate company strength, are moving north along your axis. Hold position and stand by for further orders. Non-lethal containment protocols until we confirm intent. Do not engage unless fired upon."
Torres shifted her weight, armor servos whispering. "Copy that. Civilians are scared, sir. Looks like they've been running a while." Harlan's helmet turned slightly toward the smoke. "And getting closer by the second." The refugees reached the checkpoint in a stumbling tide. Cole raised a gauntleted hand, voice amplified through his external speakers. "Steady! Keep moving through the gap. Stay on the road. We've got you." He waved them past the barriers, his free hand resting on the grip of his EM rifle. Torres and Harlan fell into position on either side, guiding the flow without crowding, their gray armor a solid wall of reassurance amid the panic.
Then the sky roared.
A shadow swept overhead, wings beating hard enough to stir the dust along the roadside. An imperial dragon rider banked low, scales glinting black and crimson under the sun. The beast let out a thunderous challenge, jaws parting to loose a jet of flame that raked across the tail of the fleeing column. Screams erupted. A small child—perhaps eight years old, a human girl clutching a rag doll—stumbled and fell directly in the dragon's path. The rider laughed, a harsh sound carried on the wind, and urged his mount downward for another pass.
Flame bloomed across the road. The child screamed once before the fire swallowed her. Cole's vision narrowed to a razor edge. "Engage!" he barked, the order ripping from his throat without hesitation. "Weapons free—protect the civilians!" Torres was already moving. Her EM rifle snapped up, power cell whining as it cycled to full hypersonic charge. She fired first—a single, brilliant lance of kinetic force that punched through the dragon's left wing membrane with a crack like breaking timber. The beast shrieked, veering wildly. Harlan followed with a controlled burst, each round slamming home at hypersonic velocity, tearing through scale and muscle. Cole took the head shot, his rifle kicking against his shoulder as the projectile drove straight into the dragon's skull just behind the eye ridge.
The great creature folded mid-air, wings collapsing, and crashed into the scrub beside the road in a cloud of dust and broken branches. The rider tumbled free, rolling to his feet with a sword already drawn, face twisted in rage. "Civilians through—now!" Cole bellowed, waving the remaining refugees forward with broad, urgent gestures. "Keep moving! Do not stop!" Torres and Harlan advanced in tight formation, rifles trained on the dismounted rider while their free hands directed the panicked flow past the checkpoint. The gray armor held steady, a living bulwark between the fleeing innocents and the enemy.
The rider charged, shouting something in a guttural tongue, blade raised high. Cole met him with a single, precise shot to the chest plate. The man dropped without another sound. Before the dust had settled, a second roar split the air. Another dragon rider crested the southern ridge, this one larger, its scales a deeper obsidian, wings beating furiously as it dove toward the checkpoint. Behind it, the main body of the Draco force appeared—roughly a company of black-armored infantry advancing in disciplined ranks, perhaps a hundred strong, their banners snapping in the wind and their own lesser dragons lumbering at the flanks like mobile siege engines.
Cole's jaw tightened. "Second rider inbound! Company-sized element closing fast. Checkpoint Six to Discovery Actual—engaging additional hostiles. Request immediate support." Torres and Harlan pivoted smoothly, rifles tracking the new threat. The second dragon banked hard, flames licking from its jaws as it lined up on the stragglers still crossing the checkpoint. Cole's rifle came up again, the three Marines firing in tight coordination. Hypersonic rounds hammered the beast's chest and wing joints. It screamed, spiraling downward, and the rider fought the reins, trying to bring his mount around for one last attack.
"Civilians keep moving!" Cole shouted over the chaos, gesturing wildly with one armored arm while his rifle stayed trained on the falling dragon. "Do not stop! Get to the valley!" The second dragon slammed into the ground fifty yards south of the barricade, rider thrown clear but already scrambling for his weapon. Torres dropped him with a single shot before he could rise. Behind the fallen beasts, the Draco company pressed forward, their advance now visible as a dark tide cresting the ridge.
Smoke still climbed the southern horizon. More refugees poured past, eyes wide with disbelief at the three armored figures who had just felled two dragons in minutes. Cole keyed his mic again, voice steady despite the adrenaline still singing through his veins. "Checkpoint Six to Discovery Actual. Second dragon and rider neutralized. The Draco company-strength element is now in visual range. Continuing to process civilians and hold the line. Request immediate support." The answer came back crisp. "Copy, Six. Support en route. Hold the road."
Cole lowered his rifle a fraction, visor still locked on the southern ridgeline. Torres and Harlan took up flanking positions once more, their armor now dusted with the same pale earth that coated the refugees they protected. Behind them, the column continued its desperate push northwest toward safety. Ahead, the black tide of the Draco Imperia Army drew nearer.
The checkpoint was held.