The planes went on slowly, their hot burner areas surging with unbearable heat, and the steam from the tanks billowing out from the smokestacks. We smiled at the amazing intelligence of the designer of these magnificent craft, who spent the time and was kind enough to give us them.
The craft certainly weren't pretty, we had to give them that. We had taken to calling them "Jho-Planes" Because of their bad looks. But they had a comfortable build, they had a nice construction, and the trip was good.
Until we noted a severely bad change in the motor's sound. They started flaming, and the dark grey metallic plating covering the steam pistons and burners began to bend and fly off, the explosions starting to utter from the massive engines powering the craft. Eventually, one of the engines on mine fell off! I began to plummet hopelessly into the desert below our position. I tried to pull the nose away from certain death, or at the most hopeful, a crash, but the elevators remained still, the hard (or so we thought) Alloy bars beginning to break and fall apart, the rust of my position at the head of the team (and in the most clouds) beginning to take its painful effect.
The desert approached my craft, its large, sandy, yellow arms reaching greedily to my craft. Just before falling, I managed to lift the plane up slightly, the landing gear crushed as soon as the massive craft fell on to the sand. I fell out, rolling several times and falling to my knees in pain. The others quickly landed, as their crafts were still in flight-ready condition.
Tayler jumped out and ran to me. I reached out my hand and she tried to pull me up, to no avail. I lied down, my eyes fluttering. Tayler dug out a small vial of liquid from her pouch and put some in my mouth, much to my detest. I spat, but still could not find the strength to drag my heavy and tired armored body up from the plains.
About that time, some people walked up from the north of our position. They all wore large suits of Jhen Mohran armor, with Gaun Dao Long Swords on their backs. They all looked ancient, with dark sandy eyes and a bushy mustache, along with beards of assorted sizes and eyebrows that looked upon us with glaring eyes. The tallest looked up and down at us after walking through the others.
He looked much different than the others. His beard was blackish grey, and came down to his chest. The large man had green eyes that pierced us with their stare. He grinned as he saw me. My mind was racing as he reached out at me.
He grabbed my hand and put a hand under my back, and lifted me up slowly, blood dripping from my face, my eyes bloodshot. I looked at my now dirtied Barroth armor; upon inspection, I realized I dropped my helm near the aircraft, which was now sitting sideways on the sand. As I walked over to the large, brown and soiled piece of armor, I picked it up, but then I shifted my attention to the massive beast beside the plane, righting it in seconds.
It was Jhen Mohran.
TO BE CONTINUED IN............Moga Liberty Chronicles 18: The Beast of The Sands