Editing New Order

{{TErow| 10 | Lightning Rod Warning | {{H|Henrietta|0=}}: I jumped up on the bed; there was a sensation I thought long lost among the memories of my old life in Eeofol. The hair on my feet bristled... and not only on my feet. As I stepped out of the tent, I saw my comrades, each sporting a dandelion-like hairdo. The air smelled of a thunderstorm… and something else. That odor—where did I know it from? Oh. Of course.<p>My memory opened the floodgates, and sensations poured rushing at me. Sight, hearing, smell, even taste—everything was sharp again, just as it had been in my childhood. A long summer day of my carefree youth: Frederick in his workshop, showing me a shiny iron ball and telling me about lightning, charges, and how he is about to harness lightning and make it turn millstones, illuminate the darkness of caves, and even drive away wild beasts. He clicked something; the room filled with this familiar smell, and the hair on my feet stood up, just like right now. I shuddered. I remembered what had come next. Smiling mysteriously, Frederick invited me to touch the shiny ball. I reached out to feel the pretty little round thing, but there was still a good cubit between my hand and the ball when lightning struck with a loud snap and pain shot through my body. I cried and swore for a good while, while Frederick blurted out apologies, muttering words I didn't understand at the time—something about calibration, calculated power and arc-through energy. Could it be that he had eventually mastered the lightning, but the artificers now think that the wild beasts are… us?</p>}}

{{TErow| 11 | Lightning Rod Warning... Again | {{H|Henrietta|0=}}: My worst fears were confirmed. We stumbled upon something I could only describe as an ugly manifestation of a dark experimenter's twisted genius. We wandered into a small rocky valley while on a recon raid. The smell of thunderstorm and burnt flesh, and charred skeletons tied to metal lightning rods—those were the gloomy decorations of the dull wasteland we saw. The sand around the iron structures had turned to glass in some places; some large stones were split, and their exposed surfaces displayed tree-like patterns etched into them by some unknown force. There was a kind of somber, magnetic beauty about them... Here and there, burnt markings with some kind of numbers on them were scattered. It was an execution, a long and painful one; it looked like it lasted all the while the wretches were testing their new weapon. I hoped fervently that the mind behind this atrocious contraption was anyone but Frederick’s. Now we knew: a thunderclap could hit any of us, anytime. We had to remember that and try to find some means of protection.}}

{{TErow| 17 | Abandoned Factory | {{H|Henrietta|0=}}: Wynona progressed by leaps and bounds in mastering the benefits of her friendship with the Couatls. Not so long ago, I was chuckling as she tried to explain the job to her first feathered spy; now we had a whole flock of nimble scouts scouring the clouds and keeping enemy airships from taking off. The Couatls are much smarter than the wyverns; those would mindlessly throw themselves at airships’ propellers out of their habit to go at their prey’s tail, and lost more than a dozen before getting the idea to attack the balloon. Conversely, our winged friends knew the airships’ weak points perfectly well, so now we had decisive air superiority. Moreover, thanks to these amazing creatures, we knew of the traitors’ well-fortified, impregnable fortress and of at least three commanders from Kastore’s growing army who had deployed their troops on the approaches to this bastion. We also knew of the ever-increasing dragon population and of one very intriguing town, abandoned after the undead rose from their graves. There were intact manufactories and foundries in that town, which meant that with the undead laid to rest, we could produce some automatons for our own needs.}}

{{TErow| 29 | Enemy Hero Waves - First Warning | {{H|Henrietta|0=}}: Kastore has thrown the full might of his growing army at us. This is not simply an attempt to intimidate the renegades or quell a rebellion. This means a war of attrition, one we are certain to lose. Every day, the furnaces of his forges and factories burn hotter and hotter; the goblins gain experience and work better and better, and he demands more and more from them. Sooner or later, there will be two or even three self-propelled machines or marksmen for each one of us. Every hour of delay today is sure to bring us bitter defeats and losses tomorrow. We cannot fight two wars at once—one in the present, with former friends, and the other in the future, with old enemies. Still, I believe we can gather enough power and take off for Eeofol before Kastore pounces.}}