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Alliance Military Guard sent the order. Sergeant Tucker Thompson acquiesced. Hopping on a plane to his long-lost Australian birthplace, he's been charged with his toughest mission yet. Thompson must rally his company of soldiers to prevent a new generation of weaponry from breaching the world's borders.
Pound the war drums. Rattle the cages. Here be Dragons.
Excerpt from HERE BE DRAGONS
“Be careful, Thompson. ‘Nough of us stayin’ down here forever.”
“No one is staying down here. That’s not the mission.”
“Aye, sir. Once I drop these off, I’ll be back to help.”
“Sounds good. Bring Parsnip. I’ll hold Exit off ‘til then.”
Nodding, Burkman shuffled out, Berserk sound asleep over his shoulder. A beam from above groaned.
Exit had vanished.
The door to the Vault clicked shut. As the door closed, the rumbling wall shuddered again, and after a sizzling pop, the beam overhead released itself from its bolts. Shooting away from the wreckage, I coughed in all the dust as ceiling particles and chunks tumbled around the beam.
In the plunging darkness, amid the fog, my VISTAS declared with precision: the door was blocked. The easiest entrance had been barred. Panic, seething, whirling and awry, pitched through my chest. Couldn’t be marooned in that dungeon. My gut told me I’d have to find an exit, and it might be painful. In fact, it would. All mortals dwell inside armor containing their mettle. But in treasure hunting, in creating a life crammed with rollicking fires and austere winds, the armor gets dented. To leave behind that armor is possibly the greatest adventure of all.
Pivoting on my heel, I faced the door to the Vault. Here be life. Here be adventure, to whatever exit it may unearth.